The Island of Narid

Chapter 15: Sun Festival Pt. 1

Hello everyone; yes I understand this is late. Sorry. Ahem. Anywho, I am both sad and happy to declare that this is the second-to-last chapter. Can you believe it!

Oh, I don't own FMA. –insert witty phrase here—

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"Good morning." Came the sneerish voice of the young boy homunculus when Rose opened her eyes.

Rose gasped and scrambled back on all fours until her spine hit the backboard of the bet. Her breath came in shallow heaves.

"Do you know what day it is?" He was sitting on the end of her bed, cocking his head in a grotesque way and smiling in a mischievous fashion.

Rose said not a word, and the youth widened his grin. "It's the last day of the Sun Festival; it's the summer solstice. It's a holy day to celebrate your Sun God Leto, right?"

Though the girl knew that to be a truth, she refused to acknowledge him.

"But today it's more than that." Sloth murmured, causing Rose to start. She was so intent on keeping her eyes on the boy that she failed to notice the presence of Sloth in the doorway, her thin frame leaning against the door's.

"Today is also a celebration of completion. There's been a long project the people of Bloch have been working tirelessly on and now is when they'll see it through. They even have the last step here. The Sera Chto . . ."

Rose's eyes widened at the pair of familiar words.

"Yes, you. Do you know what they mean yet?" Met with no answer, Sloth assumed she didn't. "No? Would you like me to tell you?"

Rose cast her eyes aside, staring down at her bed linens. She wasn't sure if she wanted to. The people here treated her as something of a holy presence, but they also feared her immensely.

"You, my little treasure, are the finishing touch to the ceremony they'll perform. You're their savior. We chose you to be that hero, are you not proud?"

Rose lifted a thin hand and gently brushed the scar on her neck from when she was marked.

"You are the blood sacrifice."

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"Hierra?" Ed said softly when they left the prison-like room. "Where is Rose?" His voice unbiddingly betrayed emotion. The place they entered was anything but comforting. Was she being held prisoner? "Hierra." He spoke again when he received no answer.

"Chuka, Ed. Ditayosé mé haru." Her words were soft, threatening to be overcome by small sobs. She wouldn't look at him.

Hierra led Edward through another tunnel, this one devoid of prisoners, and so was a bit of relief. But what he did see reminded him of a momentarily forgotten obsession. For upon the austere grey walls hung a gallery of artwork, from primitive sketchwork on the wall itself to the colorful canvases that were framed. Depicted in some of the pictures were the people like Hierra, and they were on their knees; their arms sweeping the floor graciously. Some captured the event of murder, the victims running or crawling, their skin clouded and tainted with crimson blood. On one of those murder paintings, he saw the dying not being slaughtered by a mortal weapon, instead by something that wasn't entirely there. Half their bodies were simply blue ash, being blown by the wind. And yet some canvases were just a whirling warp of different shades of blue.

It brought his mind back to the topic of the Philosopher's Stone—something that hadn't crossed his mind for a while. As his mind pondered, a dawning horror became readable upon his features. Why else would the homunculi be here? On an island barely known to any it was extremely unlikely that they had simply followed him and the military. He silently cursed. The homunculi must be forcing the people on this island to create a Philosopher's Stone, or at least, something like it.

A sudden thought halted Ed abruptly. The color receded from his cheeks. The homunculi had scarred Rose—they had marked her and Ed was too concerned with other things that he failed to make a connection. And now surely they had her, but for what reason Edward couldn't guess. He wished not to.

"Ed?" Hierra whispered, turning back to him.

Openly Edward cursed, clenching tight his fists. He looked back to Hierra and with as much patience as he could possibly wring out of himself, he said only a few words. "Rose is Sera Chto?" Then he lifted his palms up as a sign to say 'what?'

"Dara te Sera Chto?" At his frustration she luckily got a glimpse of his meaning. "Sera Chto deso mi youshvolk." She lifted her heavy bangs from her forehead and showed him the brand she was given. Then she hurried over to a painting that held what she tried to convey.

Hierra pointed at a picture smothered simply in blue, pointed to her scar, and then at the painting where the people's skin turned to ash. She indicated herself.

"Hierra. Yu Rose . . ."

Hierra gestured at the blue canvas again, and then pretended to consume something. Then widely she spread out her arms in a burst of energy. With a trembling finger she brushed her neck where Rose was marked.

Then she said, "Hawmonkyulïs."

Though Edward didn't quite understand most of what the young girl's attempted to tell him, her last word struck a point.

"Homunculus?" Ed choked.

Hierra solemnly nodded, then pointed first to her neck, then to her thigh. She repeated the gesture, and this time her finger grazed against her tongue. Again—her collarbone. Her shoulder. Her foot.

All the while Edward stood in numb terror. Hierra knew the homunculi. The connection was complete. If the cursed were here bothering the people—it could only mean the Philosopher's Stone. And somehow they needed the gentle, fragile girl Rose for it.

Hierra noticed his expression and quietly mumbled something before turning and leading him again.

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Rose pressed against the backboard of the great bed, shivering. Her violet eyes were flared open and violently her lips quivered. The kirtle wrapped around her skin she held bunched close to her, as if she could somehow recede into the walls if she could compress herself small enough.

And they just watched her, the two homunculi; they drunk in her fear like a hound dying of thirst. They watched as she tucked her head into her arms, pitifully silent-sobbing.

Behind her arms and the curtain of dark hair, Rose closed her eyes. This was her only chance. If she was going to live, she had to run. Soon. But those two would constantly watch her door, and who knew what preparations she had to take in order to be the 'Sera Chto . . .'? Between the brown strands of her hair she glimpsed the two cursed staring at her with faint amusement. They waited for her to look back up. Obviously they had more information to torture her with. Then Rose started suddenly; the door was wide and enticingly open.

Her thoughts dashed. Sloth was no longer against the doorframe but was on the side of her bed. The boy stood beside his 'mother', grinning mischievously.

Slowly, Rose swung her legs over the bed at the opposite side than they stood. She leaned back and washed away her tears, looking up at the ceiling. Tentatively she touched the mark on her neck, glancing quickly back, then with a lurch leapt, no flew through the door and scrambled down the hallway her legs chose, not her mind. The boy had yelled when she ran, and Sloth attempted to grab her, but Rose's suddenness into action had clearly surprised them both, if not Rose herself.

Her bare feet padded quietly enough, but Rose's breathing gave way her presence and left trail for those two to follow. Rose's body, though lithe and thin it was, hadn't full out ran for a while; truth, she had never run this fast in her life. It seemed underneath her waist some mechanical device put forward her legs and kept them in motion, for Rose could no longer feel them.

Down this hallway not a soul did she encounter, not even the two homunculi. Her heart pulsed wildly in her head—blood coursed in her ears. Turning a corner she came to her hands and pushed off again with her legs, losing no time. Her face met the solidness of a door. In a sudden frustration her fingers closed round it and she flung it open, forcing herself into action once more. Inside she prayed—prayed for salvation. Her eyes stung with unbidden tears.

But deep in her chest, she did feel the burning exaltation of hope. She had made it this far and no sound of others could be heard. She had run. The though was all the fuel she needed.

For minutes did she run, for what seemed like hours; her chest on fire but her mind oblivious to the pain. She was no longer conscious of herself. Without controlling her limbs, they reacted within a split second—the doors would open before she completely stopped.

Only when she crossed an intersection of the hallways did her mind register. Abruptly halting Rose fell to her knees, for once her rubbery legs stopped, they were useless. She could no longer push them into movement. She was stuck.

Rose turned to what had forced her to stop moving. She looked and attempted to crawl, feeling clouded in thought and pushed by only the urge to move. Move. She scrambled on her hands and knees to the two forms, two she knew.

Her throat suddenly opened, if swollen, and she heard a soft, strained voice cry out, "Ed!" She started when she realized it was her own lips, her own voice that spoke his name.

The boy scrambled over to her, strung one of her thin arms across his shoulders and raised Rose up to her wobbly feet. She couldn't see his face—he hid it from her. Hierra clutched the other arm, tugging.

Forcing words raspily out of her throat, Rose whispered, "Run. Out. They are after—Sloth—the boy . . ."

Ed and Hierra needed no more words. Going back the way they came, they dragged Rose with them in their fast pace. She didn't mind the fact her knees were losing skin trailing the burning ground. Ed had come for her, she was going to live.

Without warning Rose wrenched her arm from Hierra's grasp and wrapped both around Edward. He stopped, nearly losing his balance. She cried out.

Around both of her ankles, a thick substance not quite liquid, for it was as strong as any rope, was curled. Hierra screamed.

Edward quickly slapped his palms together, turned in Rose's grasp, lashed out his now sharp pointed head and sliced through the water-chains around Rose's ankles. For a moment they dissipated, but then in a fury they seeped through the space between Ed and Rose. The water slid underneath the creases of Rose's hands holding Ed and, slipping, she could no longer grasp him. She cried out, and saw Ed lunge for her.

But through the air she was carried, and he in his restricted height could not reach her. Swearing vehemently he ran towards her, when a boy near to his size stepped out and laughed in a voice sickeningly sweet.

Something pinned him against the wall suddenly. Looking up, he met the gaze of Lust.

"We need that girl, Fullmetal. It's not you we're after today." Her eyes flickered to the girl Hierra. "I see you've tried to set one of the ingredients free as well. I can't let that happen."

Another form walked over to Hierra and brought a heavy fist down on the base of her neck. Hierra collapsed instantly.

"Edward!" Rose's agonizing scream pealed. She struggled and shrieked until the water embrace that held her moved to her head and covered her mouth, strangling her.

Edward cursed again, screaming her name, but his eyes abruptly closed when a weight pressed against the back of his head and he was released to fall to the floor.

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Wow, not bad for length, eh?

Haha.

Actually this chapter was kind of fun to write. I had my hot cocoa mixed with vanilla cocoa and nutmeg. Ahhhh, bliss.

My reviewers, you can have that wonderful drink as well, if it's not too hot where you are, OR if you're not into mah little mix, then I baked you all some chocolate fondant. MMMmmmm. Lovely.