MW: Yo, back with another one after so long. Forgive me for taking forever, but remember, I have to do extensive research seeing as I no longer play the game and I have to keep continuity. Went back through earlier chapters, realized that Talon had a former female roommate who was killed by Sabrina, hence why Astra is his current roommate.

I will be going through the entire Celestia questline, and I may merge quests into one to avoid drawing out the "Celestia Arc" for a prolonged period of time. Trying to build relationships and continue the storyline as the war goes on. There is a little lack of progression within this chapter, something which I'm aiming to fix along the way so that deaths and growth becomes more meaningful. Also, I'm doing my very best to develop my characters and keep them interesting as well as entertaining and believable, so please forgive me if characters are bland or dull. I'm trying hard to have them develop them in a realistic manner and keep their designs easy to visualize. It is a bit difficult to describe a character's design, however, so you have been warned.

...There's a lot I want to do, and I have to restrain myself from shoving it up the ass of an entire chapter and stretch it out so that it makes sense and is reasonable. Since the world is already established, I need to redefine the scale of the world and the idea that it won't adapt to characters' whims and is more something they have to carve through rather than work around. There are three major themes I want to deconstruct as the story goes on: love, power and death, as well as explore the relationships that can form in times of trial or crisis, the attachments people have to one another, what it means to fight, and especially the experiences that shape a person and just how they affect the people around them.

Finally, back to the basics—I have a plan, an endgoal, but let me know what you want to see happen in the story regardless of my endgoal.

Thanks to all my readers, friends, family and fans who have helped me edit and keep this story alive.
Enjoy.

Pre—chapter Q&A:

Q: How old is Talon?

A: Nineteen.

Q: Who dies first?

A: Someone important. Good enough?

Q: When can we expect the next chapter?

A: Probably some time over the summer—my writing speed/upload rate increases the less schoolwork I have to do.

Q: How long will the story be?

A: I dunno. As long as I make it, I guess. I have to go through four world arcs—Celestia, Zafaria, Avalon and Azteca—before the war, or at least, the war through the protagonists' eyes, reach its conclusion. Right now we've just begun the Celestia Arc (because I'm slow and I like taking time to build relationships and develop characters), so it'll be a little bit. If everything goes as planned, the Celestia Arc should be the shortest of all the world arcs, coming in around ten to twelve chapters including this one.

Q: Will Talon's decisions affect everyone in the long run?

A: I plan to have everyone's decisions affect someone or something in the long run. Since this is a reimagined Wizard101 universe, I'm free to alter the world as I please and not confine it to the pre—established rules, so I'm excited to do so. I want to keep things realistic despite the setting being so far from humanly possible.


14 — Celestia I \\ Talon and Valkyrie

62.

It burns.

He woke with a start, the pain that lanced through his back startling him. "What the he—God, that's hot!" He yelped, reaching towards his back frantically. Pulling off his shirt with negligible difficulty, Talon craned his neck to try and see what had appeared on his back, but, as he should've known before he tried it, he couldn't. Instead, he resorted to tracing his fingers across the burn in an attempt to understand the pattern of sorts that had appeared.

62.

"Feels like a number," he muttered, pausing and wondering just what he did that would—

An image of the ice blade Valkyrie's colossus had driven into him what seemed like minutes earlier flashed before his eyes, and—panic rolling through his mind like waves—he grabbed at his abdomen, breath quickening and heart threatening to burst from his chest, high on the fervor that coursed through his veins. Bandages were wrapped around his waist, clinging tightly to his body, dried blood caking the edges as well as the center. It was real, and it had clearly been violent. More vicious than it felt, it seemed.

The Necromancer poked at the bandages first, feeling for the hole in his body, but finding instead what felt like a slight indent where there should've been a hole. Had he been healed? But how?Valkyrie's surprise attack couldn't have kept him out for that long, could it have?

"You're awake..!" Although he sounded cheerful, Hunter's voice was slightly lackluster, causing Talon to frown.

"Hunter...how long have I been out? No, wait, tell me—is there a brand on my back?"

Hunter gave his older brother a quizzical look as he turned around. "Woah," the Diviner murmured absentmindedly. "Since when did you get a brand, Talon?"

"I've never—Hunter, what shape is it?" Talon inquired.

"It's a number. Sixty—two." Hunter said, leaning in closer.

Talon frowned. Huh, where had he heard about brands like that before..?

The younger brother brushed his fingertips against it, recoiling swiftly. "That's hot! As if you were burned just now. But the scars don't look older and healed over like the lightning scars on your stomach, but they are definitely not fresh as if you were branded just now. So, why is—" Hunter began.

"Stop with the analysis, Hunter," Talon interjected. The Necromancer glanced at his surroundings, observing them clearly for the first time. "How long was I out? And where are we?"

The Diviner's face quickly grew solemn, and in seconds, he was frowning. "Well, you've woken up every now and then, but technically, you've been out three days. Don't you remember that..?" Upon seeing Talon shake his head, Hunter shrugged. "We're at the base camp—we managed to close the elevator behind us and keep the girl you were with out of it."

Talon nodded and Hunter gave an ugly pause, eyes locked on his brother.

The air thickened, and the first bead of sweat rolled down Talon's back.

Drip.

The Necromancer averted his gaze, knowing what Hunter wanted to ask, but praying he didn't.

"Talon, that girl...what were you doing with her?" Hunter tried. Upon Talon's silence, he continued. "...She was one of Morganthe's, wasn't she?"

The older brother remained silent but nodded slowly.

The second bead of sweat.

Drip.

"Did she…" Hunter swallowed. "Ask you to join her?" His voice shook.

Talon gave another slow nod. The third bead of sweat barely rolled down the Necromancer's back before Hunter erupted into a rage, face traveling through an array of emotions before settling finally on utter disappointment.

Goddamn it.

"What the hell!?" He snarled, startling Talon. "Are you stupid? Do you think this is a joke? A game? What the hell are you doing, Talon, abandoning your friends to join some psychopath?"

"You don't understand!"

"Well, you're certainly doing a great job explaining yourself! You're supposed to be the leader—you're the oldest, the one who protects me, who stays true to his beliefs and doesn't cry in the face of danger! You're the one who's supposed to keep us together! We're your friends, Ta—" Hunter started.

"No!" Talon roared, the yell causing him to wince as his wound stung in response to his outburst. "No, you're wrong! You're not my friends, none of you are! How can I call you my friends when I know jack shit about you?"

"Then learn something about us!"

"No, you don't get it!" Talon fired back angrily. "I've been in prison for six years, and while I was gone, everything changed. Everyone changed! I don't know anything about Astra, and I can't help her through whatever she's going through. I don't know anything about anyone on some team I'm supposed to be leading, and I can't even keep control of my own goddamned emotions. I don't even know you anymore, Hunter. I've lost six years of my life. I've missed six years of yours. You don't know how scared I am. How lonely I feel. I try to hide it, but it keeps coming back—people keep coming back, and they're different! I don't want to be around a group of people I can't even make sense of..!"

Talon's retort lingered in the air, held steady by the silence that wafted between the two brothers. Hunter frowned, turned on his heel and moved towards the entrance.

"Everyone loses something," he said. "...Get over yourself."

The Diviner exited the tent, the curtain sweeping behind him and blocking Talon's view of what lay outside.

The Necromancer scowled, hand finding one of the two stacked pillows next to him and launching it at the tent entrance. He gritted his teeth to block out the pain that tugged at his closed wound. "...Fuck you!" Talon called loudly. As if Hunter could hear him. The Diviner had a tendency to hold grudges and was probably off fuming somewhere where Talon couldn't discover him.

He tore his legs from their confines within the bedsheets, feet touching the cold tile. He blinked a few times, finally and completely surveying the area around him. He was in some sort of tent...the bed he had been lying on sat in the center of the tent, medical supplies scattered about. Talon ran a hand through his tightly—curled black hair, glancing around. "The base camp, huh..?" His duffel bag lay on the ground next to the bed, most likely retrieved by one of his team members when they fled from Valkyrie.

Zip.

Talon rummaged through its contents. He really should've been wearing his armor when he decided to travel, but he didn't think it was necessary. He figured he'd reach Valkyrie and assimilate himself by the time the team found him.

"I hate you, James…" He muttered as he withdrew the axe, testing its weight and spinning it twice in his hand. "But I'm a nice guy, so I won't bash your head in with this axe." The Necromancer chuckled for a moment at his own incredulity, then sighed. Well, hell. He was back with his team again, and chances are they wouldn't let him leave, whether or not they knew what he had been planning on doing with Valkyrie.

Talon slid into fresh undergarments and then a pair of reinforced, yet skintight pants that would function as clothing that went under his armor. He touched his bandages, debating whether to go about the rest of his time awake with them on or removing them, before shrugging and tugging on a magically reinforced shirt.

He was halfway through putting on his boots before he was alerted by footsteps. He turned and was greeted by a fist to the chest.

"Who the hell do you think you are!?" Astra roared angrily. "I can't believe I—no, I can't believe you wanted to join Morganthe! Are you stupid?"

Still doubled over, Talon grit his teeth. "What's it to you? Why do you care?"

"Because—" Astra began, faltering. "Because I think I'm still in love with you." She tried. She herself wasn't entirely sure of her own feelings but was certain they were closer to love than just a simple, fleeting attraction. They had to be, or else she wouldn't be gravitating towards Talon in his current, pathetic state.

A strenuous pause.

Talon scoffed in return. "Still in love with me, huh? Because of a memory, that's why, isn't it? Because of your goddamn repressed memories." He scowled, shooting the now—noticeable dragon on Astra's shoulder a glare. "I don't have to explain myself to any of you." The Necromancer muttered, placing his foot in the other boot, strapping on the pieces of armor that protected his knees and subsequently lacing up his thigh guards.

"No," Astra corrected, her tone sour. "It's not just the memories…" but she trailed off, and in what felt like an instant, she, too, was gone.

What was he doing?

Distancing himself from people who trusted him? And in such a way, too...why? Talon couldn't stop the words that flowed from his mouth. He was angry, bitter, and all of the negative feelings he had felt in the last six years erupted, pouring forth from his lips, and he couldn't prevent it.

He wanted to join Valkyrie because he felt alone even around a team of people he knew and people who could've been as kind as his mother, but wasn't it the same for Valkyrie? He hadn't seen her in five years. What was there connecting him with Valkyrie?

She terrified Talon.

Did he want to join her because he thought he could reconnect with her after so many years, or because he feared what Morganthe would do to him if he refused? Did he attempt to join Valkyrie because he knew that everyone around him—and maybe even he himself—would be killed by Morganthe and her adherents? Was it because he desired to be on the winning side, even if it meant losing the trust of people close to him?

Does it matter? Thalomir spoke up suddenly. You failed, whether your intention was to join her, gather information, or bring your friends to your location.

"They're not my friends," Talon corrected in a weak voice, pulling the final piece of armor—the spiked garment that covered his chest and his torso—over his head.

Out of all the things I say, that is the one thing you must argue against… The overlord trailed off, and then, What will you do now?

"I don't know. Is there anything I can do? I don't think I'll be forgiven."

People are capable of much more than you think. Thalomir responded.

"And how would you know?" Talon inquired, tying his curls together to form braids.

After being impaled on my son's own blade, he forgave me. Thalomir paused. Would you like to know how I know that the best kind of sandwich is a desert—what do they call it now—submariner? The overlord's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Submarine. And I get it, I get it." The Necromancer muttered, grunting as he began to tug and reshape his hair into braids. "...I always hated doing my own hair…"

There was nothing but silence and the occasional grunt of pain within the tent as Talon took each individual braid, made an "o" with his fingers and tied the braids together to form a ponytail.

"Fine," he said finally. "I'll handle this."

The Necromancer slid on his helmet and stepped outside to embrace the wrath of his teammates.


"Sabrina," Valkyrie murmured to the woman next to her.

"What?" Sabrina asked, clearly irritated.

"Are you excited?" Valkyrie inquired, the glee evident in her voice. The white haired girl trembled, shuddering in a voice that conveyed sexual pleasure rather than the bloodlust that usually exuded from her every pore. A sword hung at Valkyrie's hip, the intricate, cryptic patterns etched into her obsidian armor captivating Sabrina.

The former Ravenwood Diviner would never understand how such a girl could wear armor commonly associated with wealth and nobility so...proudly, and yet use it for something so far from knightlike.

"No," Sabrina responded flatly, her vibrant green eyes searching for an inkling of something akin to a soul within the girl who called herself Valkyrie. "I'm not like you. I don't kill because I want to, I kill because it's necessary."

Valkyrie seemed to pout.

Sabrina never really knew what her comrade was thinking, as the woman seemed to change moods almost immediately, and on top of that, her eyes were nearly invisible. They blended almost perfectly with her sclera, adding to her mystique and the haunting air she emitted.

"I'm excited," Valkyrie answered absentmindedly, ignoring Sabrina's statement regarding her philosophies on killing. "I get to see Talon again."

Talon?

Hunter's brother?

"What is Hunter—er, Talon—doing here? He's in the war?" The blonde servant of Morganthe paused. The way Valkyrie spoke about him was reminiscent of poor, foolish, lovestruck trash. "Is he fighting for us? For the Queen?"

The ice witch's face became sour. She frowned. "No," she answered bitterly. "He tried to ambush me."

"And?"

"I stabbed him." The Thaumaturge said, her breathing quickening. "I could—no, his friends grabbed him and retreated. They did a decent job holding me off. But they won't get far next time. I'll freeze their legs, break their bones and crush their hearts." Her last sentence became a vicious hiss, a ruthless promise, an unbreakable vow that she will uphold so long as she lives.

Disgusting.

Sabrina was no stranger to killing, no stranger to violence. For as long as she'd been Morganthe's apprentice, mercilessness had been her trade.

But unlike Valkyrie, she was collected. She might've been equally as hateful, equally as ruthless, but she was methodical.

She thought ahead and did not lag behind. Her mind was faster than her body. She envisioned the lure and transformed it, making it a reality. Strategy was not folly to Sabrina, and she unleashed the full potential of a strategy. A plan was always necessary; arrive, establish target, establish weapon. How you kill is irrelevant. Your thoughts during and following your kill were irrelevant. Escape is of the essence; establish route, establish vanishing point.

The Diviner had emotions, of course, but they meant little when she took it upon herself to carry out a task. She was swift and silent, like the languid, brief period of silence that washes over the town before a storm, but like the uncultivated hound that circles her feet, she was brutal and lacks remorse.

"Why in hell are you so excited to see Talon again?" The Wolf inquired, her voice maybe a bit too sour, blowing a strand of blond hair from her eyes.

"Because I love him," Valkyrie whispered coolly. "Clearly, you don't understand what love is." The Thaumaturge spat out.

"I don't think I want to," Sabrina murmured in reply, shrugging. "Well, whatever. I'll see you another time. Hopefully not soon." She added, turning on her heel and leaving with a half—assed wave.

Valkyrie frowned, shaking her head. "Bitch…" she muttered under her breath. Unfortunately, not all of Morganthe's apprentices were allowed the luxury of being stationed in Avalon.

Sabrina sighed as she rounded the corner. So Talon was in Celestia, huh? And he wasn't alone? Well, if that was the case, then that would mean Morganthe and Valkyrie traveled to Wizard City to recruit Talon recently and he retaliated by dragging his entire team along.

Despite being the Umbra Queen's beneficiary, Sabrina was not up—to—date on all of her activities and as such had to rely on assumptions.

If Talon was here with a group, then...could Hunter be in that group?

The Diviner snarled, feeling upset at her own incompetence.

That group was dangerous. Weak or strong, they had something Sabrina did not—numbers. Those numbers mattered, especially if they were coordinated like they should be.

She glanced down at her hand, a chill running down her spine. Although her fingers had returned to their normal color, a jagged slice—no, a crack—ran from her middle finger to her wrist. There was no blood, but the crack was open wide enough that one could view inside and be greeted with absolute nothingness, as if her blood, flesh and bone had been removed from that very spot. She could still move her hand, but the memory of her appendage being frozen did not vanish from her mind.

That Thaumaturge was skilled, and thus a threat.

She had fought him very briefly, and he was much unlike most wizards, utilizing his ice in clever and creative manners rather than employing all out brute force. The Thaumaturge played defensively, even when attacking. Not easy to overcome. And if Talon was here with a group, chances were that the group was full of powerful wizards like the Thaumaturge.

"I'll have to be filled in another time…" she sighed, shaking her head. For now, she would move to Zafaria and check on the attendant Morganthe had stationed there. Hopefully that would keep her mind away from the beginning of the war.

After all, everyone was simply a piece in a diabolical board game. Sabrina was simply waiting to be moved.


"You sicken me," William Lightningwind hissed. "You're not good enough to call yourself a leader of a team."

The team stood outside of several tents arranged in a semicircle in a spacious corner of the Celestia base camp set up by the archaeologists and explorers. It was a convenient place, one where they could train, learn information regarding Morganthe and her minions, and converse with other wizards about meaningless things.

It should've been that way. There was a war now, which means trivial conversations with wizards was now a decimated concept, and learning information regarding Morganthe and her minions was out of the question since it wasn't easy to absorb extra information in the heat of battle.

In short, the war that should've begun weeks later, with Wizard City and their allies reacting to Morganthe's hopefully proactive strike was upon them now.

Talon fucked up.

"Shut up—as if you're any better," Talon responded, rubbing his jaw where Eron had punched him almost the instant he walked out of his tent in armor. The punch even hurt through his armor, resulting in the Necromancer deciding not to question the draconian's strength anytime soon.

"Actually, I am." William snarled. "I know who my friends and my enemies are." He concluded, folding his arms across his chest.

"I still don't understand why you would do such a thing..!" Maximillion tried. "You have to explain yourself!" His voice wasn't necessarily pleading, but the expression on his face told Talon that the Conjurer wanted to trust him again.

So the hero still had faith in him, huh? His friends didn't. William had a look of disgust on his face and Vincent said nothing, simply observing with a blank expression.

Talon shook his head. "I don't have to explain anything other than the fact that you started a war."

"No," Eron interjected. "You started a war. If you hadn't come here in the first place, we would have time left to prepare!"

"Hey, fuck you!" Talon roared in response. "I don't care what any—" Talon paused, shooting Astra a glance. The look on her face was bitter. "—what any of you think about what I did, and I'm sure as hell not going to explain myself! I have my reasons, a right to my secrets just like you have yours, damn it..!"

Silence washed over the wizards, broken only by Eron's periodic snarl and grunts of frustration. The draconian couldn't respond.

Instead, James spoke up.

"Israfel is right," he exclaimed. "It doesn't matter what you think of him, or why he did what he did, but he didn't follow through with it—or at least, we got him before he could—and he's back now. He's still our leader, and we should trust his judgement above all else. After all, we are at war." The Thaumaturge nodded at Talon when their eyes met, and Talon frowned.

"What th' hell are you on about?" Eron roared.

"How do we know you aren't being controlled, Israfel?" Mirror asked, her voice demanding an answer. A gleam in her eyes notified Talons that she desperately wanted him to be the same Talon that she felt attracted to, the Talon who was a capable leader.

"I don't care what you think," Talon repeated, as if reassuring himself that it was true. "You don't understand..." He turned away, moving towards the tent he had exited just before. He had to get out of here.

Clearly this was a waste of time. There was no sense in trying to explain himself, and his "teammates" weren't having any of it. So why did he come outside in the first place? He sighed, turning back on his heel to face his team before sighing once more, shaking his head dismissively and advancing towards the tent.

"Where are you going..?" Hunter's voice.

"Get back here, damn you..!" Eron.

"—Israfel!"

"Talon—!"

"Stop!"—

Their yells for him to stop were futile. He wasn't going to stop. He had started down a dark path, a road covered in shadow, a forest where hate gave birth to the foliage, a well from which he could never climb out.

He couldn't be saved. He didn't want to be saved. He wanted to survive, and if he had to join the person whom nearly all of the world's classified as evil, join the one person who was the reason why such a war was being waged, he would. It was necessary to live.

The flaps of the tent moved in the slight breeze generated as Talon strode back into the tent and sat on the bed, tearing off the entire upper torso and helmet of his armor set.

"Argh!" He roared, throwing his helmet at the wall. He tore off his breastplate and chest armor, practically ripping off his shirt. "Goddammit, goddammit all, goddamn this brand—" he clawed viciously at the indents within his back as if trying to tear them out. Clearly, he was unable, but that did not stop Talon from trying, fingers and arms flailing behind him, bits of skin tearing off, small wounds opening in his back. "—goddamn Astra, and Hunter, and Eron and—" his face twisted into an expression of utter agony, and he rose to his feet as if he were going to strike something before failing to commit to the action, crumpling into a resting position, head in his hands, shoulders quaking.

"Why can't I just die, Thalomir..?"

The world isn't done with you yet. The overlord's voice matched Talon's mood—soft, somber, lifeless.

"Why can't the world be done with me? Why can't I do what I want, huh? To hell with the world and it's stupid rules…" the Necromancer grated through ugly sobs.

An unsettling silence slithered over the tent. Talon could hear almost nothing from his team members outside, and inside the tent he felt about as miserable and as helpless as a creature aware of its impending, inevitable doom.

He should've been dead already. He could see it coming—he failed to join Valkyrie, rescued instead by a group of people who...who he didn't want to be around. And why was that? Because they scared him. Neither of the people were inherently evil—no one was—but to Talon, this collection of misfits meant something. They represented a reality, a state of being, a mindset that Talon could achieve if he managed to turn back, an ideal that gave birth to heroes.

They clung to hope. No matter how broken they were, they clung to hope, and they moved forwards.

These people were heroes.

Talon had never clung to hope. He tried, truly, but in his experience, hope led to destruction, depression, desolation and hatred. Talon moved forwards, yes, but at the cost of his own life—at the cost of his sanity—while those who clung to hope were shielded. They were not exactly noble, but they were protected from the horror that was despair. They were...they were…

"...They're strong," Talon murmured aloud. "I want to be strong, but…" he trailed off.

'I don't want to be them.' He wanted to say. The thought moved to the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. Never.

He couldn't turn back, could he? He was on this path for life, right? It was hell he was traveling into, wasn't it? Destruction? Madness? Rage? Hatred?

It was too late to turn back…

...right?

"Thalomir." Talon spoke, clearly. He removed a hand from his tear—streaked face. "Am I doing the right thing?"

The silence mocked the Necromancer. Thalomir did not respond, and Talon was left alone for the briefest of moments, throwing himself back onto the bed, hand over his face.

Ugh.

He ran a hand along his abdomen. His wound stung, burning fiercely. Talon's mind flashed back to the ice sword. How the hell did he come out of that alive?

"The Theurgist healed you, you know," James' voice resounded throughout the room.

Where the hell did these people come from? It was as if these—no, just James—showed up at the most convenient of times.

He hadn't even heard James arrive. When did he get there?

Talon sat up, wiping his face. "What do you want?" He asked, voice nothing short of poisonous. His eyes flicked about until he saw James' face poked through the tent flaps.

"I just want to talk. We just want to talk." The Thaumaturge slid into the room fully, followed by Vincent Deathspear and William Lightningwind. The Necromancer peered at Talon through flat, bored eyes. Did he have any emotions at all? William's nose was upturned, gaze averted, like an exaggerated comic.

"I don't want to talk to you." Talon responded, ending any further means of continuing the conversation.

But James pressed forwards. "We aren't going to take information from you and then spread it to the rest of the team. That wouldn't be fair."

Talon frowned. James had been...spying on Talon earlier in the month, hadn't he? What was stopping him now? But nonetheless, the Necromancer was interested in what James had to ask. "Hurry up," he said, expressing his impatience.

"We heard news regarding the brand on your back. Vincent may know about it."

"Then why is he here?" Talon inquired testily, gesturing to William.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, just like you don't have to explain yourself to me," William responded with a powerful huff.

Well, that seemed fair.

Vincent advanced, gesturing to Talon to turn around. The younger man did as he was told and Vincent crept closer, ogling Talon's brand.

"Did you come here to look, or can you heal it?"

"Do you know what it is?" Vincent's voice was far deeper than Talon expected, and he was taken aback.

"Uh...well, I think so. It's payment for taking a piece of another soul and fusing it with yours, right?"

Vincent nodded and Talon exhaled. Okay. Okay, that wasn't bad.

"Do you know what it means?" Vincent asked suddenly.

Oh, man. What had Dworgyn told him about the drawbacks? Um...something about life being taken...but he was referring to the opponent, no? The number of opponents killed appears as a brand on the body? No, that wasn't it. Number of souls taken appears as a brand on the body? No…

So what was it?

Talon shook his head.

"It's how many years of life you have remaining," Vincent responded flatly. "Your brand reads "62". Mine reads "73"."

Talon chuckled nervously. "You're...you're not serious, right? This is just a kill count. No way in hell is that how many years of life I have remaining." He turned to look for any signs of humor in the older man's eyes.

Vincent shook his head. "I haven't told a joke in a while." He said with a sigh of exasperation. "I'm surprised you didn't know about it. I assumed all Necromancers would be taught that much…"

Damn. So paying attention to that crazy old man would've paid off.

"But...I don't really have sixty—two years to live, do I?" Talon tried again. "I mean, there can't be such a thing as some sort of 'death clock', right? That—that doesn't make sense!" He was frantic now.

William placed a hand on his shoulder. "Cool it, kid. It's a consequence. You take life and you think you can just walk away scot—free? Necromancy punishes you for using it. Understand?"

Talon faltered. "I...It just...I can't…"

"Great, now he's all tongue—tied. Serves you right." William snarled, averting his gaze.

James spoke up, placing a hand on Talon's shoulder. "You're our team leader, so we can't afford to have you do anything stupid."

"Like you did three days ago," William chimed in. Talon shot the Diviner a glare. James glanced behind him at William, shaking his head slightly. William fell silent, frowning.

"You can use Necromancy, sure, but you can't die. Use it in short bursts, and nothing too taxing," James continued. "We don't know how long it'll take us to reach Morganthe, but we assume it won't be anytime soon, nor are we ready for it. That's why we need you to be aware what the thing on your back is. So that you can train around it."

Talon paused. "You're asking me basically reign it in until you figure out a way to get rid of this?"

"Well—" James began.

"No," Vincent interrupted. "You can't get rid of it. James is trying to help you out—trying to make this sound less than it is—but there's no way out. The moment you used Necromancy, you resigned to your fate. The question is: will you continue to use something you know will kill you, or will you stop now?"

Talon faltered.

He didn't know.

At this point in his life, was there really anything to fight for? He had missed six years of what should've been beautiful. He had turned his life into a hell. While he hadn't tried to lose anything, the things he wanted most had turned him away. Why wouldn't he stop now?

"I'll—" he tried.


"Did you get a distress call?" The dog—woman inquired, glancing at the group of wizards before her.

"Yes," Maximillion answered. "Is everything alright?"

"Well—" the woman started, attempting to keep her voice from breaking. "—we build these air—filled domes so we can explore the ruins while our ships stay on the surface and recently our—our expedition leader, he's gone missing, and—"

Max frowned. "Wait," he exclaimed, holding up a hand. "Calm down. I know it's hard, but in order to help you out, we need you to be calm. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded rigorously, inhaling deeply and exhaling. Eron made a snort of impatience, but otherwise said nothing as he, Maximillion, Astra, Hunter, Mirror and Leif waited for the woman to answer their initial question.

"Okay," she said. "I'm calm. So, we're exploring the ruins, and suddenly, our expedition leader goes missing—right before the crustaceans attack!" Max raised an eyebrow, mentally taking note of the crustaceans. He himself hadn't been to Celestia before, but he'd heard some amusing rumors. "Our leader—uh, Sir Thurston Plunkett is his name—he believed that if we found the Grand Astrolabe, we can learn Celestial magic!"

"Celestial magic?" Hunter inquired. He'd never heard of that. Well, he'd heard rumors and whispers, but Hunter never really stayed much on top of gossip.

"It's harnessing the power of the stars," the woman responded almost dreamily.

"That's not possible," Leif chimed in. "At least, as far as we know…" He trailed off and shrunk back just slightly as the woman turned towards him.

"But it is!" She responded quickly. "Or at least, it would be if—"

"If y' had Sir Plucker back, we got it," Eron stated testily. "Who else can we talk to 'bout this?"

The woman seemed to recede, her eyes saying she felt threatened by the large draconian. With shaky fingers, she pointed left, towards a tunnel that looked very much like the shutter sliding closed on a camera. "D...Dalton Prescott is the acting...leader while Sir Plunkett is away...y—you can talk to him…"

"The dog?" Hunter inquired, noting her fear and stepping in front of Eron, almost as if to protect her.

She nodded slowly.

"Thanks," the Diviner muttered, gesturing to the others to follow him as they made their way over to the tunnel.

"B—Be careful! It's dangerous out the—" she called behind the group, her voice cut off as the tunnel closed behind them.

"Let's figure out what's going on and then we'll round up the others," Hunter instructed, earning a few nods from his comrades, and grunts of approval for some.

Good. He could do this.

He could be better than Talon.

The sound of boots on the metal floor served to break the silence and cut partway through the lingering cloud of tension. Unfortunately, it did not manage to slice through the cloud entirely, evident by the periodic clearing of throats and awkward sound of someone shuffling.

The end of the tunnel opened up again, and the wizards poured out, glancing every which way, unsure what Dalton Prescott looked like.

A thundering male voice found Hunter's ears, and he turned his attention towards a large dog—man walking towards them. Similar to the predominant species of investigators in Marleybone, he sported a large, upturned nose, predominantly pointed ears that drooped slightly at the very tips, and a mouth that curled upwards into a haughty smirk.

"Are you searching for something?" He boomed.

"A Dalton Prescott…" Hunter paused, trailing off. He narrowed his eyes. "Are you related to him?"

A terse silence, and a smirk. "As a matter of fact, I am him." The dog spoke.

Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Sorry for the hostility, sir—" he began, but was interrupted by a chuckle.

"It's okay, son," you're probably a bit frazzled. ...What with the crabs and all."

"I heard about that," Hunter murmured absentmindedly. "Anyways, is there anything you can tell me about a Sir Thurston Plunkett?" The other members of the group were beginning to gather around him now, murmuring amongst one another or glaring off into the distance as if the surroundings themselves were deserving of some degree of wrath.

Dalton Prescott sighed. "So much has gone wrong since we arrived. Almost immediately after we set up our base camp, we were met with technical difficulties—it was most likely sabotage..!" His tone turned sour and he gnashed his teeth together, growling angrily. "Then there were thefts of equipment and our other stores...then we lost Sir Thurston...and then…" he paused, as if he wanted the wizards to understand his plight.

"And then..?" Hunter urged.

Dalton frowned briefly, but continued on. "The most recent attack was caused by some of the indigenous species in the ruins. It w—"

Maximillion interjected hurriedly. "Wait, there are indigenous species here?"

"Of course!" Dalton exclaimed, scoffing slightly. "Did you not think that there would be anyone residing in these ruins? Just because something is destroyed doesn't mean there are people who can't call it home."

"Well…" Max began, but paused abruptly and trailed off.

"It would be a great help if you could find survivors." Dalton said, sighing again. "I've taken roll, and it seems like Mackenzie Trowel, Edgar Ableton and Peter Cheswick are still missing. Let them know the attack is over and they can come back..!"

"Why can't you do it?" Eron asked, his voice full of sardonicism and acrimony.

Dalton narrowed his eyes, refusing to answer Eron's question. Instead, he spoke in a dark tone, voice laced with annoyance. While he may have been pleading, the pleading note had all but fled from his voice causing the wizards before him to stiffen slightly. "And while you're at it, find Sir Thurston's missing notes, too."

Hunter bit back a sigh. "We're on it, sir." He turned on his heel and marched away. The instant Dalton was out of earshot, the Diviner whirled on his comrade, suppressing his irate howls as best he could. "What the hell, Eron!?"

"What?" The draconian inquired, an incredulous look on your face. "It was a serious question." The world around Eron apparently didn't exist, or else he would've noticed the tension in the atmosphere, taken heed of the consequence of the situation and the brevity of time and would've snapped into action.

Hunter's eyes narrowed dangerously and he shoved his face as close as he could to the taller creature's. "Don't." He snarled, his rage manifesting as sparks of electricity crackling in what minimal space remained between the two. "Don't fuck this up."

Eron made to growl in retaliation, but snorted instead and leaned back. "Take us away, then, leader…" he muttered.

'Leader'. Hunter liked the sound of that.

The Diviner turned away. "Let's go find those guys. Then we'll regroup and take things from there."


"Thalomir, do you think I made the right decision?" Talon inquired.

I do not know. I think that you may feel differently in time, but I am unsure. The overlord responded in a neutral tone. What will you do now that the war has begun, albeit prematurely? And what of your team? Can you control them? Can you control yourself?

Talon gave a slight chuckle. "Probably not, but I'll try."

His mind slipped back to just minutes earlier when he had relayed his decision to the James, William and Vincent. While the other Necromancer and the Thaumaturge seemed to understand, William was angry.

"You can't just decide to give up!" He had roared. "It's not for you to decide! You brought us into this, so you get us out, whether you like it or not—!"

"I'm not giving up!" Talon returned just as fiercely. "I just...don't want to die."

"What about us, huh? Just casualties? Just lives to be thrown away?"

"Will—" Vincent tried to interject.

"I don't know, William, maybe I should count off the things you've done for me! Let's see—oh, looks like I was made leader of this team because all of you assholes can't think for yourselves! Let's see—oh, looks like no one can cooperate with one another, so there goes our coordination! Ah, yeah, you flipped out when I made a personal decision about—" Talon tried.

"That wasn't a personal decision!" William responded. "You were going to join Morganthe! That affects us all! Are you stupid? Are you blind or something? You can't see the world around you and—and you just—have to just cave into your selfish desires, huh? Can't even take control for once? You're not as righteous as you think you are, Talon Bloodbane! You're a killer and—"

"Will, out, now." Vincent commanded his comrade sternly, not bothering to give Talon a second glance as the two headed out of the tent, William continuing to fume.

"Sorry," James muttered. He paused, stared at the sullen, broken man before him and the ghost of a smile floated across his face before he turned and left without another word.

"Do you think...if I joined Valkyrie, do you think anything would've been different?" Talon whispered absentmindedly, brushing a shaky hand against his face. His words were addressed to the Titan within his conscience, but they slid off of his lips, barely audible, as if he were afraid to ask such a question.

It's possible, Thalomir said. But fate is not predetermined. Things can change. Time can change. New pathways are revealed, and others are destroyed. The cycle of choice is endless.

"What's your point?"

That you make the right choice.

The Necromancer inhaled sharply. "...And what is the right choice?"

Never what you think it is. The tyrant fell silent once more, leaving Talon to his own thoughts.

"Huh." Talon murmured. "Well…"

He was alone now, not particularly wanting to rise from the bed and peek outside or interact with any of his teammates, but not particularly wanting to remain by himself. The air went rigid, Talon's breath became mere vapor and snowflakes began to drift and swirl about the room.

"Valkyrie!" He snarled instinctively, rising from his bed.

"Hey, stud," she said, teasingly as she materialized slowly behind a curtain of frost. "Did you miss me?"

The Necromancer stole a glance behind him at the bed. His armor rest comfortably on the floor on the other side of the bed. He could try to dive over the bed and attach his armor hurriedly, but he was slow. "Hurriedly" for him was at most five minutes. In that time, Valkyrie would be upon him, cutting holes in his body with ice oddities. Damn. In a situation like this, in close quarters...what would happen? Could he signal for help? How could he signal for help? And...the number on his back...would he use it? Necromancy?

"Shhh, don't scream now," Valkyrie whispered, a smile playing on her face. She was complete now, before Talon, as pale as a ghost, adorned in a light dress, sections of armor covering her more exposed areas. "Do you like it?"

"What am I supposed to like?" Talon responded quickly. "Because I sure as hell don't like you."

Valkyrie frowned for a moment, but the smile returned almost immediately. She twirled around, running her hands along her hips. "How do I look?"

"Deranged."

"I was going for 'sexy', but that works just as fine." Valkyrie's lips turned downwards just slightly, and she advanced a step. "How have you been?" Her arm stretched, and she reached outwards towards his side.

"Stop it, Val," Talon hissed, drawing away from her. "...I know you're here for a reason. If you want to fight, let's go."

"I don't want to fight…" Valkyrie spoke softly. "I came to see you."

"What?" The Necromancer asked incredulously.

"Because I love you," Valkyrie echoed the words she had spoken earlier to Sabrina. "I put this on—" she gestured to her dress. "—just for you, Talon."

He raised an eyebrow, his mind screaming at him to call for help.

"It's too bad you lied to me earlier," the woman continued. She slid one of the straps on her dress off of her shoulder. "But maybe I can convince you once again…Do you like it with the lights off?"

"What...the hell are you doing?" Talon breathed. He lowered his fists just slightly, bewildered at the sudden development; the sudden change in her behavior. Had she always been this...God, she was attractive. But even so...she wanted to kill Talon, and every one of his instincts insisted on not succumbing to his impulses. He resisted with everything he had not because he didn't want her, but because he didn't want to die.

"I'm seducing you," Valkyrie responded, sliding the top of her dress off of her shoulders. "I need you with me, Talon. Always...I wanna ask again."

The pale blue dress dropped to her feet. "Join me, Talon. Alone." Her breath was the warm morning air on a child's face—kind, serene, beautiful.

Was she stupid? Why did she keep returning to him, to ask the same question, to be given the same answer again? Was she some sort of masochist? Or was she just an idiot?

"You can't be Valkyrie…" Talon tried, but his voice was pathetic and dying. "Valkyrie wants to kill me."

"It's only because I love you."

Talon swallowed painfully, his eyes darting over her figure in a lustful manner. Still, he restrained himself. This wasn't something he wanted. "That's not love," he tried softly, attempting to make his words sound as soothing as possible.

They were both volatile, but Talon wasn't stupid. He knew this would go south if he didn't comply, but...

"What, you think I'm wrong?" Valkyrie hissed abruptly. "You think I deserve to be hated, don't you!?"

The Necromancer raised his hands defensively. Axe, axe, where was the axe? "I don't know," Talon muttered. "I wanted to join you, but I don't know now."

"Are you mocking me!?" She roared. "I love you—I do all of this for you, and—and you won't respond..!" Still nude, she moved forward a half step.

In a normal situation, Talon would've burst out laughing, the outrageous situation twisting his fear into joy and subsequently laughter he had no choice but to expel from his lungs, but this wasn't a normal situation, and he was scared. The woman before him claimed to "love" him, but truly had no semblance of how to express affection other than through bouts of extreme violence and overwhelming desire.

The Necromancer briefly hesitated before he threw himself backwards towards his bed, flailing for the briefest of seconds before his legs tumbled over his head and he slammed against the floor on the other side of the bed on top of his armor and his axe. He scrambled to a kneeling position. No time to strap on the armor, and Talon wasn't so adept as to enchant the armor to attach itself to him. Instead, he grabbed the axe and aimed the blades at the deranged disciple.

"Stop," he forced himself to say sternly. "This isn't love."

Valkyrie inhaled sharply, recoiling before she waved a hand over her body, her armor materializing in a flurry of cold winds.

At least Morganthe taught useful skills.

"You think you know what love is!?" Valkyrie screamed. Talon turned towards the entrance of the tent, wondering why no one had come running. "You're obsessed with that redheaded bitch, aren't you? You can't see that I'm the only one for you, can you, Talon? You let her walk all over you and you expect her to even pay attention to you—?"

No matter how psychotic she was, her words were a blow to the heart. It was as if she'd stabbed him all over again, only this time, the truth had been driven into his mind like a blade slowly pushed through flesh, muscle and bone.

'That's not true,' he wanted to shout. 'She doesn't walk all over me!'

No. No, that wouldn't be true, would it? She was saying she loved him now, but he couldn't accept it. It wasn't really her—it couldn't be; she didn't truly feel that way, she was just trying to make him happy. Astra was using her memories as a crutch, merging them with her own feelings, trying to make them a reality. She couldn't have cared about him, not when she didn't remember, not when he'd changed so much.

The tip of the axe lowered ever so slightly and Valkyrie lunged forwards, arms outstretched, hands curled and vile, like that of a demon's. Her palms brushed against Talon's neck, her fingers dug into his trachea, the snarl present on her face the only indication that she truly wanted to kill him.

Why? Because he didn't love her? Because he wouldn't join her?

Was this what he wanted? To die a painful death? To suffer for all the hell he'd wrought, for all the lives he'd taken, for all the pain he couldn't overcome?

Was he truly this weak?

His vision swam.—

The axe began to slide from his hand, and he lost strength–—.

His life slipped away from his grasp—.

Life —– away —weak

Talon—

—die die

...No.

No, he wasn't done. He was weak, wasn't he? But that didn't matter—he couldn't die. Not yet. Not until he found an answer to his questions. Not until he could survive through his pain. Not until he himself could understand why he couldn't join Valkyrie.

The Necromancer gritted his teeth, spittle flying from his mouth. Mustering his strength, he shoved his free hand into Valkyrie's face. She hissed in response, her grip tightening.

Will you die here?

Talon didn't know if Thalomir truly spoke or not, but he heard the overlord's voice—the overlord who chided him so often about his decisions, the overlord who was the stepping stone for humanity, the overlord who was the representation of tyranny and power, the overlord who Talon so desperately wanted to surpass…

Fuck that.

The Necromancer shifted his hand, pushing his thumb into Valkyrie's forehead and his other fingers into her ear, the back of her skull and her neck. He pulled her face closer to his as she squeezed the breath from him. He should've been dead.

—–Hahaha.

He wasn't dying here.

As Valkyrie grunted, pushing more force onto Talon's throat, he threw his arm to the side, tilting Valkyrie's head in the same direction. She pulled against it and Talon was gripping at her hair now. He wasn't done, however, and forced his body to roll over swiftly to the left. The man spun the golden—bladed crescent axe in his grip as he rolled, curled his arm and thrust his wrist forwards, the blades crashing into her side with enough force to loosen her grip on his throat. Inhaling sharply and just enough to regain a portion of his strength, Talon lifted his knee, sending it flying into her nether regions before shoving her away violently.

The deranged Thaumaturge rolled a step before hopping to her feet, angry.

Talon lay on the ground, eyes shut tightly in pain, hand grasping at his throat as he coughed and wheezed.

He survived. A smile played on his face, tugging at the corner of his lips and he choked out a pained chuckle.

"—Hahaha–––hahaha…"

—Some time passed, maybe.

He could breathe again, and rolled on his side, tired of staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

"Talon, I heard—" James' voice.

"It's her—!" William always managed to capture the spirit of the obvious.

"You called your friends again?" Valkyrie growled. "Always coming to him when he's in need, is that it?" Valkyrie glared at Talon and turned to face his friends. "I hate people like you...one day, I'll kill him and you won't be there to save him…" Her body proceeded to turn into snow, and for the briefest of moments, Talon wondered how someone could develop such a visually appealing teleportation technique.

"Will—!" James commanded.

"On it!" William exclaimed, launching a bolt of lightning towards Valkyrie's location. The electricity soared between the flakes of snow, destroying about half of them and enveloping the others in heat. Valkyrie screamed, reforming her body...or rather, what she hadn't lost.

As a product of William's lightning, a chunk of Valkyrie's shoulder close to her bicep had been completely decimated, her arm barely attached to her body. She clutched at her wound with a hand, tears streaming from her pupiless eyes. She glared at William—or what looked like a glare—who winced.

"That looks painful…" he muttered with a slight chuckle. "Okay, no laughs. I can work with that." The Diviner shook his head dismissively, moving forwards.

"Wait," James stopped him. "Don't kill her."

"Why not?" Will inquired, narrowing his eyes. "She tried to kill us. One less enemy to fight."

"We aren't strong enough," James responded flatly, eyes locked on the hunched figure on the other side of the room.

"What the hell do you mean?" William asked incredulously, turning to face James. "I just took a chunk out of her shoulder, she's—"

"Getting up." James interjected, and William turned to stare at the opponent who had already risen to her feet. "Get out—!" He grabbed the Diviner's shoulder, shoving him down to the ground as an oversized icicle flew between their heads, covering the ten meters of the tent in the span of six seconds.

"Woah!" William yelped. Valkyrie leapt over the bed with her free arm, aiming a boot at the wild Diviner's forehead. He ducked underneath her, but she swept her foot downwards, striking him in the back of the head. The vicious Thaumaturge landed on his body as it crumpled to the ground and turned to face her other opponent.

James took a defensive stance, and Valkyrie's brow furrowed dangerously.

"...Stop..!" Talon coughed from behind the bed. "If you touch any of my team, I'll...I'll kill you."

"What an empty threat," she hissed, whirling to face Talon.

James took advantage of the opportunity, darting forwards, spreading a thin layer of frost across the air between himself and Valkyrie. Talon wasn't sure what the other man's plan was, but he assumed it had to do with mounting an average defense so Valkyrie would tire herself out chasing him. Unfortunately, she turned all too quickly, planting a destructive heel through the thin ice wall and into James' stomach, sending him stumbling backwards. A grin graced her face. "You won't catch me off guard again, idiot."

"Valkyrie—!" Talon roared, leaping from the opposite side of the bed, axe brandished. In his mind, he ran through the spells he had memorized, but stopped himself. He couldn't...Instead, he swung the axe violently downwards as if to cleave her in two (narrowly missing William's face), a predictable and anger—fueled attack which she dodged almost effortlessly.

"We'll finish this later," Valkyrie exclaimed, her body turning into snowflakes. Talon didn't continue his attack, helping James to his feet and rousing William, simply glaring at the snow that swirled in the room for a brief moment before vanishing.

"Well," James coughed. "That was interesting."

William threw Talon's hand off of his body angrily. "I can't believe you let her in here…" he grumbled.

"What makes you think he could've...no, would've let her inside?" James inquired in response, a quizzical look on his face.

"Well—"

"She could've just as easily teleported in. We have no evidence, William." The Thaumaturge concluded.

The Diviner sighed and turned away in a huff, muttering to himself. He exited the tent.

James turned towards Talon. "You okay?"

"Why are you helping me?" Talon found himself wondering why James was so invested in him, defending him from the other reasonably angry team members.

"What can I say? I like to bet on the underdog." James answered with a shrug. "I don't know, it's just a compulsion. It's like I should know why, but I don't. ...Besides, maybe you're worth defending."

That shut the volatile Necromancer up for the remainder of the day.


"We're back," a fatigued—looking Hunter announced as he strode into the center of the base camp where the team had transformed into a makeshift base. The Diviner was followed by the remainder of the group, each of them looking worse for wear like Hunter. Armor was cracked in several spots, pieces flaking off with each step the wizards took. Cuts, scratches and bruises littered their faces and they looked terribly tired, as if they'd missed several days of sleep.

"Where've you been?" Talon inquired, sitting at the head of a small table lined with chairs, barely wide enough to fit all of the team members. A fork was in his hand, and he shared tedious glances with the food on the plate before him and his brother. James sat nearest to Talon, glancing up at the team very briefly before resuming his eating and remaining silent. Based on the looks of things, the two had just begun eating.

Where were Vincent and William?

"Do you think you're in a position to ask questions?" Hunter retorted coolly, casting his eyes at the other man in a disdainful fashion. The Diviner didn't bother to remove his armor like the other team members, pulling out a chair directly across from the Necromancer, never breaking eye contact.

"Do you think you're in a position to talk back to me?" Talon responded.

"I think I am." Hunter dismissed.

"I think you're wrong," was Talon's flat response. "It doesn't matter what you think of me, but that's not a reason to undermine my authority—"

"Authority?" Hunter laughed. "You planned on joining Valkyrie—you planned on joining Morganthe, for fuck's sake—and you talk to me about authority!?"

"Are you ever gonna stop bringing that up?" was Talon's quiet reply.

"No!" Hunter yelled. "No, I won't, not until you learn you don't have to do everything alone!"

Talon fell silent, a thick blanket of tension falling over the entire group, save for James, who continued to eat, undeterred. "You can sit down," Talon mumbled to the other team members, who each took tentative seats at the table. "Food's in the center."

"So, uh, for anyone who wants t' know…" Eron started. "We were out helpin' some guy find his friends, 'n' then he kinda sent us out t' find clues and kill crabs. Somethin' 'bout some pineapple tower...but anyways, we found a portal lookin' like th'one back here. We brought the inscription to another one of the first guy's friends, and he tolds us t' come back in a bit once he's deciphered it. Hunter figured we should round everyone up and try then." The draconian concluded, arms folded across his chest, nodding proudly.

Talon raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to say something but decided against it. He could infer enough from Eron's mediocre description of the events. He nodded and began to respond—

"Alright, thanks for that, Eron," Hunter interjected. "We'll eat and rest here for a day and then we're back out, assuming that works for you." He glanced around at the other people at the table, Talon very briefly and nodded, as if it would help reinforce his point somehow.

...Hunter…

What was he doing? He had lashed out just a moment ago about Talon joining Valkyrie for the second time that day—or week, Talon wasn't really sure how time worked in Celestia—and then proceeded to one—up the leader at every junction.

He was undermining Talon's authority, wasn't he?

The Necromancer's eyes narrowed. "And if it doesn't work for me?"

"We'll go without you," Hunter stated.

"No," Talon responded sternly. "No, you won't go without me. I'm the leader, and I frankly don't give a flying fuck what you think. Before anything else, you're my subordinate, my comrade, and we sure as hell aren't ready to be doing anything dangerous right now. We need to train."

"We've already wrapped ourselves up in something dangerous," Astra interjected. "There's no time to train."

"Then we make time," Talon answered forcefully. "Look, I know I fucked up—"

Eron snorted.

"I know I fucked up," Talon continued. "But I want...I want to fix it. I want to kill Valkyrie. She's one of Morganthe's, and maybe the biggest threat to us right now. I think we need to stop, take a look around, get over ourselves—"

Hunter made a small, guttural noise, which sounded to Talon like anger.

Well, granted, he did just reiterate what his brother had told him earlier.

"—and fight back."

Hunter folded his arms across his chest. "And what about the people in Celestia? Leave 'em alone?"

"No, we'll help them...but we may have to put them on the side." The Necromancer answered. "...Unless helping them aligns with our war efforts, then we'll have to set them aside." He added.

"I'll alert the headmaster," James followed. "Means I'll be gone for a bit, but I'll be back as soon as I can." The Thaumaturge, however, did not move, waiting patiently for the meeting to adjourn.

Talon nodded in response, but something inside him died. James had been...incredibly helpful even despite the Necromancer's frequently poor decisions, mental breakdowns and inability to control a group. Having him gone would be as if someone stole the wheelchair from a cripple. A possibly devastating blow...but he would compensate.

"So, first thing we do is get stronger?" Mirror asked, furrowing her brow.

Talon paused, then, "Yeah, if we can. If anything, we need to be able to work as a team. ...Trust one another." Another pause. "I realize that's not gonna be easy given my recent actions."

Eron and William seemed to snort in unison.

"I think that's a good idea," Leif mumbled softly. "Um...getting stronger before anything else. What if we aren't strong enough and we lose out to Morganthe?"

"We can't possibly keep up with Morganthe," Maximillion stated. "That's impossible—Ambrose can't even keep up with her."

"I know," Talon sighed. "But we're not trying to keep up with her, just the people she sends to stop us."

"Do you think she'll send Valkyrie again?" asked Astra, who had been unusually quiet for the past conversation. Her voice was neutral, unwavering, like that of a trained professional, but her eyes held a barely noticeable jealousy.

"I don't think Morganthe is sending Valkyrie," Vincent, who had entered mere moments before, said.

"What do you mean?" was Hunter's question.

Eron interjected. "Maybe he's thinkin' that that Valkyrie isn't bein' sent by Morganthe, but maybe she's headin' here by herself 'cause she wants somethin' from Izzy."

"Who?" Mirror asked.

Eron pointed and Talon. "This one."

"She wants me to join her," Talon muttered.

"Mmm." Eron continued. "And y' refused her, didn'tcha?"

"She came back," James interrupted. "Will blew out a chunk of her shoulder, but she got away. She might be back again, so we should be wary."

"She came back!?" Hunter exclaimed incredulously.

"You weren't here, so, uh, we had to handle it on our own," Talon answered. "I told her I didn't want to join her. ...Not this time."

The Necromancer's brother paused at Talon's response. Not this time, huh? So was Talon realizing his mistake?

Eron frowned. "How d'you know she ain't gonna come back?"

"I don't," Talon muttered. "But I don't think she will."

Silence greeted Talon, so he continued.

"I already refused her twice, so she's angry, but since we've wounded her, she'll have to wait a bit and recover. When she does come back, she's gonna want to kill us all. Or rather, me, but Valkyrie's not the type to ignore people related to me."

"What makes you think she's going to attack us if she just wants you?"

Talon shrugged. "She loves me, I guess."

Astra frowned noticeably, while Hunter and Eron stared at the Necromancer, quizzical looks on their faces.

"Wake me up when it's time to go." Talon answered, pushing his near—empty plate away and heading back to his tent.

Almost immediately after he was out of earshot, Eron leaned over the table. "He seems surprisingly sure of 'imself." The draconian paused, then, "I dunno if we can take what he says as th' truth after what he did…"

A nod from Hunter. "He can't just move past it like it's nothing..! He's gotta recognize that he did something wrong, and I won't—I'm not gonna let him rest until he does."

"Do you still trust him?" Mirror whispered.

"Well…" Hunter trailed off, averting his gaze, his determined visage crumbling almost as quickly as it formed.

"I don't," Astra muttered angrily. "I don't care what he says about being our leader, nor do I give a shit about his 'authority'. I can't trust him now, can I? What if he was lying about Valkyrie coming this time? What if he told her he wanted to join her—and she went to report to Morganthe and Will just caught her in the act?"

"She was choking him when we arrived," James interjected.

"So?" Astra responded. "Could've been a ploy."

Hunter closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. Talon wouldn't, would he? But he said himself...they weren't his friends. He didn't know anything about him. But was that enough to join someone who he didn't know anything about, either? "Damn," he swore. "Astra's right, we can't take any chances."

"I want to help him," Vincent murmured. "I know he tried to betray us, but I think he just doesn't know what to do. ...I've been there before."

"You're actually trying to help him?" Maximillion erupted, an outraged look on his face. "Not only did he try to betray us, but we all know that he's a convicted killer! Who's there to say that he can't kill again? And who's there to say that it won't be us dying?" The outburst was new to the team, who was fairly unfamiliar with the hero, however, the members of Team Immortal appeared unfazed. Maximillion was never one for grey areas, especially when it came to morality.

Eron threw his arms in the air. "Woah, woah, he's a killer now!?"

Hunter's face grew even more solemn, Astra seemed to falter for the briefest of moments, the ghost of anger on her face, Mirror looked away, James folded his arms across his chest, and the other members of the team reacted with mixtures of shock, fear, and anger.

Upon noticing the expressions of the few who were...informed, Eron's voice dropped to a growl. "You knew about this!?" He snarled angrily. "You knew about this and you didn't tell us?"

"So that's why he wanted to be called Israfel…" Mirror murmured. Talon was in prison because he was a killer, and if everyone were to call him Talon, they'd recognize him, wouldn't they?

Suddenly she realized why he had been so vague during dinner earlier in the week.

...And she wasn't bothered by it. Not particularly, anyways. It was pretty cool, actually. Friends with a killer…the side of Mirror that embodied almost childlike rebellion had always lingered within her, and she couldn't help but smirk slightly.

"People can change, can't they, Eron..?" Leif began, reaching for Eron's shoulder.

However, the draconian rose from his seat, whirling on his roommate. "I knew you were in on this! Y' were just tryna get close to me so you could plot 'gainst me, huh?" He growled, jumping to irrational conclusions, as usual. "How d' I know you weren't with that ice girl, Leif? Who says—"

"Stop," James interrupted sternly, grabbing Eron's shoulder.

The draconian turned his head towards James, eyes narrowing. "You're with him too, aren't you?"

"No," James continued. "No one's with anyone. Be quiet. I know you're angry, but you're not the only one. At least give the others a chance to voice their thoughts so we can come to a consensus."

Eron growled in response, but fell silent, grumbling something about backstabbing, and sending glares at James, Hunter, Leif and Vincent, who—while the news was new to him—was unfazed.

"Look," James spoke up once more. "He's a killer. He's done some pretty horrible things, he's been locked up for 'em, and now he's out. He had a life sentence, so the only person who could've possibly let him out is Ambrose. Chances are—"

"Ambrose's in on it, too…" Eron muttered.

"Shut up," Hunter commanded.

The draconian mimicked Hunter's tone in a singsong voice, but once again fell silent.

"—Chances are," The Thaumaturge said. "That Ambrose let him out for a reason. To reform. To learn. To grow, right? And chances that Ambrose paired him with us because we all have something to learn. We're adults, but that doesn't mean we can't grow as people, too, right?"

"He's right..!" Leif chimed in. "Let's give him a chance. Maybe he'll—"

"We gave him a chance," William interrupted. "I don't hate the man, I just pity him. The Necromancy's killing him, he's a killer himself, and he tried to join the enemy, y'know; it's...sad, really. Makes me angry, but it's sad."

"Wait—" Astra began. "—the Necromancy's killing him!?" All traces of her previous...anger regarding the fact that Talon had killed before vanished, all animosity she felt towards him swirling into surprise.

"He's dying?" Hunter exclaimed. "My brother's dying?"

Tension. Anger. Confusion.

Silence.

Sacred, tedious, strenuous, hateful, surprised, longing, wrathful silence.

Will shrugged. "I thought you knew—"

"Clearly, they didn't," Vincent interjected simply.

"I thought you knew that Necromancy...or at least, the overuse of it kills the user. Sort of like an eye for an eye, you know? You can take life to, uh, sustain yourself, but you can't live forever. Serves him right, y'know? After what he's done…" William trailed off, expecting his teammates to agree with him.

"No," Hunter said. "I was mad before, but I can't be mad now, knowing that he's dying. I...that's my brother. He missed out on six years of my life because of what happened with Lucas...No. I can't be mad."

William turned towards Astra. "How 'bout you? You gonna go back on what you said earlier?"

Astra averted her eyes. 'I love him,' she wanted to say. But did she? Was Talon right—that the love was just her experiencing her memories again? It would make sense if it was. She barely knew him as he was, so why did she feel so attracted to him? It had to be the memories. Almost five days before, she had been thinking the same thing when she waited on him to return to the dorm, longing for something that couldn't be. The Conjurer should hate him. He killed, he hated, he destroyed. He was a brute, a savage. There wasn't any way she could feel so attached to someone who reminded her of herself. Talon was broken, decimated inside and out, so aimless and wandering that it was pitiful to watch. He was dull and hollow, empty and colorless, a shell of what he once was or could've ever been. Then the question became whether she "loved" him as he was now or what he was before. Could she fall in love with him again? Especially now, as a cyborg? He still loved her, didn't he? But did he know she was a cyborg? It wasn't a secret she shared with most, though she was fairly certain it had been revealed on several occasions. Would Talon be reviled by her new appearance, her changes, her experiences and her past actions before Cyrus set her on the path of reformation?

He couldn't possibly find solace in someone just as broken as he was. The thought of being with someone like herself repulsed Astra, and yet…

"Yeah," she responded finally. "Talon...I think I understand how he feels. I want to give him another chance."

"You're a hypocrite!" William exclaimed suddenly. "What is this, you're just suddenly forgiving him now?"

"Yes," Leif spoke up. "'Cause people forgive. People change. That's the beauty of life, right? Change, progression. We're forgiving him because we want to understand, I think. Forgiveness is the first step in understanding. And—well, we're in a war, and I think the best thing to do would be to cooperate, right..?" He trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

Hunter paused. "I...I can't forgive him for trying to join Valkyrie, but...if he's dying...I say we give him a chance."

"And now you switch up, too, huh?" Eron barked. "I thought y'all were smart, but I guess I'm fuckin' wrong!"

Astra made a noise of disgust and left the room as Hunter and Eron began to argue, the following shouts of interrupting team members filling the dining room area.

If she stayed, the conversation wouldn't progress, almost every member of the team hotheaded enough to continue on like near—endless trains, stopping for the briefest moments to catch their breath before starting up and plowing forwards.

The redhead stopped before Talon's tent, gathering her thoughts. Alright. So she'd let her mind wander and ended up before his tent. No sweat, she was...a...a social butterfly. Right.

—Hell no, she was terrible at talking to people. And when she did have to, what she said came out as cruel, abrasive and ego—destroying, even if it wasn't necessarily supposed to be. What would she say? Sorry? The last few times she spoke to him, she told him she didn't love him and then said she did almost immediately after. ...Hypocritical, sure, but people could change their minds, couldn't they..?

Ugh.

That wasn't a standard she should hold herself to. She was a killing machine, and though independent, she was still a woman. Women often had confusing thoughts, so it was okay, right?

Damn. Astra really needed to stop trying to give herself a pass. For various moments in her life, she resented someone she thought she loved...or she claimed to love...whatever. Did she really...was she really attracted to Talon? Or was it just an aftereffect of her regaining her memories?

"Astra," Talon said, and it was then that Astra realized he'd poked his head out of the tent opening to stare at her as she tumbled in a rusher mercurial manner through her own thoughts, delusions and contradictions.

"You..!" She managed. "Uh, Talon. I came to talk."

"About?" The Necromancer asked simply.

Astra paused. What was she to say? In truth, she could say anything and pass it off as if that was what she truly came there to say. Then the question became: what did she want to say?

"Sorry," she muttered. "I didn't think before I said some things, and...I uh, want to start over."

Talon frowned, stifling a chuckle. "You what?" he choked.

"I want to start over," she repeated.

"With what? With this?" he waved back and forth between the two of them. "You can't. You really can't just come up to me, apologize for everything you've ever said and then expect me to take it lying down. I won't roll over for you, Astra." Talon concluded, voice flat and remorseless.

"Well—" she tried, but stopped herself. He wasn't wrong, she really couldn't try to start over. So what was she saying, then? "Fine, I won't. But I'm still sorry."

"I'm not." Talon finished, simply. "Like I said earlier, wake me up when it's time to go." With that, he rejected her, everything she wanted to be, and left.

Well, shit.


MW: Alright, there's that for the fourteenth chapter of Down A Shadowed Road: Revised. Hope you liked it, because I sure had fun writing it.
Post—chapter Q&A.

Q: Why was everyone mad at Talon?

A: How would you feel if you were a part of a group and then your leader left in an attempt to join another group antagonizing yours?

Q: Will they ever forgive Talon?

A: Forgiveness takes time, but ultimately, yes, they will forgive Talon. They'll have to if they want to progress, no?

Q: Talon sure breaks down a lot, doesn't he?

A: Yeah, he does, but he'll pass it sure enough. It's part of his development. He's a weak character currently, but he becomes strong over the course of the story, both as a man, a leader and a wizard. As do all the characters...unless I kill 'em, that is.

Q: What is it that James likes about Talon?

A: James finds Talon interesting because he has potential to be something more. If Talon applied himself, was slightly less cynical, pessimistic and resentful, chances are he would be something far greater than a mere convict—turned—leader. It's something James sees in Talon that Talon doesn't yet see in himself; something that James sees that he wants to bring out in the Necromancer.

Q: You talked about love a lot. Does that become important?

A: Yeah, it does. A theme I want to explore in the story is the idea of love, how it can hurt, harm, what it can be perceived as, what love does to people, for people, what it is to people and confusing lust with love. I realize that's a lot, hahaha. If you pay close attention to the people talking about love, then it might make more sense. For example, Astra and Talon both trade "I love you" back and forth frequently, but do they truly love one another?

Get it?

Q: What happened at the end?

A: Astra tried to rectify her mistakes, or rather, take back what she said earlier about Talon regarding his attempts to join Valkyrie and how she felt about him, but the man wasn't having it, feeling betrayed, irritable and suffering underneath the weight of such a heavy burden, and rejected Astra, or rather, what she meant to him. Kept it short and sweet.