The half-elves of the group walked in silence; the only discussion was between Kratos and the King, and even that was halting and troubled. They spoke quietly, but Mithos could hear bits of their conversation; he didn't like what he heard.

Mithos slowed until he was in-step with Yuan and Martel. "What are they talking about?" he asked blankly, softly. "It sounds like the king thinks Kratos is a prince!"

"Technically, he is," Yuan replied softly. When Mithos started to protest, Yuan cut him off, firmly but quietly, "Not now, Mithos, please. Let him deal with the king before making him defend himself to you."

Strangely, Mithos was hurt. "He lied to us, and you're making it sound like I'm wrong!"

"Did he?" Yuan replied with a raised eyebrow.

Yuan was surprised when Martel spoke up. "Lies of omission are still lies," she said softly, flatly.

So they would respect his wishes and leave Kratos alone about it, for now. Instead, Yuan would be the one defending. Patiently, knowing that his experience with humans had been much more merciful than theirs, he retorted, "And who are your parents?"

"What does that matter?" Martel demanded, raising her voice slightly. Then, as quickly as she snapped at Yuan, her indignation left her as she realized that was exactly Yuan's point. "Oh."

That dispute settled, or at least rendered irrelevant for now, the half-elves lapsed back into silence. Uncomfortably, Cleo questioned Yuan about his mother's health; Yuan replied, with equal discomfort, that she was well. All three noted that the King did not ask about Yuan's elven father.

By the time they had arrived at the Balacruf Mausoleum, the structure built around the Sylph's seal, it was nearly dark. This, they discovered, was a problem. "I'll open the tomb for you," the King said quietly. "The seal itself is on the roof; you have to move with caution. There are traps all over the mausoleum. Do you remember any of the layout, Kratos?"

"Vaguely," the human replied flatly.

"Then I shall accompany you, to assist in locating and disabling them."

"Is this a good idea, your Grace?" Kratos said, his inquiry stopping Cleo as he turned to the pedestal in front of the tomb's entrance. "It's very close to nightfall. I imagine by the time we got to the seal, it would be dark, too dark to comfortably fight."

Cleo was not pleased, but did his best to mask it. "That demon is liable to attack Asgard again at any moment," he countered. "Surely it would be best if we took care of this immediately? Once Mithos has the pact with the Sylph, we can go back to Asgard and you can all rest for as long as you need."

"And we'll need to rest, your Highness," Yuan cut in, "if you're asking us to fight a Summon Spirit in the dark!"

"There are eternal torches-"

"We're fighting three beings, uncle, not one!" Kratos snapped.

"I'm not spending the night outdoors," Cleo countered sourly, admitting why he wanted to do this so quickly.

The disgraced knight glared at the King for several seconds, and then smirked. "I have an idea," Kratos said. "Obviously Yuan and I want to wait for morning. Martel's too polite to get involved in this dispute-" at this, he bowed slightly to Martel, "although I suspect that she agrees with me and Yuan."

Martel interpreted his statement as a question, and answered softly, "I do. If one of you gets hurt, I won't be able to see enough to heal you properly."

Kratos nodded to her, and returned his attention to Cleo. "You're outnumbered, your highness, by far."

"That can't be your 'idea', Kratos," Cleo observed dryly.

"It is not," he conceded, "although I wish you wouldn't make me do this."

Now Cleo was intrigued. "Oh? What is 'this', Kratos?"

The knight sighed heavily. "Mithos," he said quietly, "you are the one who will be making the pact with the Sylph. Provided we survive the initial confrontation-" This last was accentuated with a pointed glare at Cleo- "your ability to forge the pact will determine whether we live or die. Therefore, the only one of us who has the right to decide whether we do this tonight or in the morning is you. What do you want to do?"

"Me?" Mithos squeaked, looking around in dismay. "Kratos, I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Kratos cut him off calmly. "What do you want to do, Mithos?"

Cleo was too busy staring at Kratos in disbelief to protest before Mithos said, meekly, "I'd really rather wait until the morning... I'm tired, really. I don't know if I would be able to focus enough to do it now."

"Then we do it in the morning," Kratos said firmly.

As far as the companions were concerned, the issue was settled, and the group began discussing the most equitable way of dividing up camp duties. In one last, desperate attempt, Cleo blurted out, "I really do not wish to be away from Asgard over night! My people need me-"

"Then open the Mausoleum and go back," Mithos cut him off, astonished at his own boldness.

All three of his protectors, as well as Cleo, seemed fairly astonished by Mithos' sudden confidence, as well. Cleo's response was to snap his mouth shut angrily, scowl at the half-elf child, and stalk to the edge of the wooded clearing the Mausoleum was built in. The king settled himself at the foot of a tree, and sulked.

Kratos and Yuan were unperturbed by the King's childish reaction, but it unnerved both Mithos and Martel. Division of duties was left to the two men; they had the most experience with camping out of the five of them. It wasn't long before Mithos realized that the King was being left out of the division of chores. "Kratos?" he asked softly, timidly. "What about the King?"

The knight's brown eyes flicked to his brooding uncle, and then back. "Leave him be," he said finally. "We're walking on thin ice by telling a King we won't do what he wants. Trying to force him to perform menial tasks would not end well."

"So he gets to just sit there and do nothing while we do all the work?" The prospect of this made Mithos bristle.

"Yes," Kratos conceded, completely honest. Then, with a wicked grin, he added, "Although I was planning on having each of us cook our own provisions tonight. I don't know if you noticed, but His Majesty is... traveling lightly."

And Mithos understood. They had all the food. If Cleo wanted any, he was at their mercy. "Fine. I don't like that we have to do all the work, but you're right- he is the King." With that, Mithos wandered away to collect kindling for the fire, as he had been instructed to do. The knowing, understanding smirk he flashed Kratos was enough to tell the knight he had no further argument.

It also told him that Cleo wasn't getting any of Mithos' rations.


The night passed uneventfully. Cleo eventually stopped pouting and helped Martel tend the fire; he held the night watch for most of the night. Yuan was the one who was expected to stand watch through the middle of the night, and that stretch of time was almost complete when he woke and realized that Cleo had neglected to wake him for his shift. "Go back to sleep," Cleo ordered him, his tone firm but gentle. "I can guide you through the Mausoleum, but I cannot fight; I've had no training. Kratos was right; you all need to be rested to do this."

"Mithos was the one who brought up being tired, your majesty," Yuan remarked quietly, accusingly.

Cleo had no answer. "Go back to sleep," he repeated flatly. Yuan didn't argue further.

A few hours before sunrise, Kratos woke. Cleo attempted to tell Kratos to go back to sleep, as well, but the Knight refused. "I've actually been awake for hours," he told the King, "and you've been awake almost a full day now. You should get some sleep, at least. You do need rest, uncle, especially if you are to help us deal with the traps in the mausoleum."

The King narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Kratos. "You don't look like you've slept at all, Kratos."

"I have," the knight returned, immediately. Too fast.

His uncle let it go, although he was concerned. "It isn't long until sunrise," Cleo conceded, "and I am tired. As long as you're sure you've had enough rest."

"I'm sure," was Kratos' firm reply. Cleo didn't respond; he merely lay down, and closed his eyes.

Somehow, Kratos knew the moment Cleo was asleep. He drew his sword, went a few feet away from the little campsite, and started attacking the shadows. He exercised to try to purge the dark thoughts simmering in his head, but quickly discovered that this was too routine, too normal, and he didn't have to focus on it at all. Lunge, backstep, slash, thurst, backstep, parry, lunge, backstep, slash, thrust, backstep, parry...

All the while, his mind was still on the fact that he could not sleep. He wasn't tired. He wasn't even fatigued. He just couldn't sleep, and his uncle's observation was correct. All he could do was pray that he was alert enough to fight.

The sun filtering through the canopy ceiling woke his companions without any intervention of his own. They all set about collecting their belongings wordlessly, and it was Mithos who inquired, when they were all awake and had eaten, "Are we ready?"

"I am," Kratos replied. The other two half-elves nodded, and Cleo said, "I am, as well. Shall we go?"

The group walked in silence, again, oppressive and uncomfortable. Cleo opened the tomb without event; they moved through the mausoleum, the stale air adding to the oppressive feeling they all shared. Cleo disarmed the traps as the group encountered them. At one point, Mithos observed dryly, "This is surprisingly boring."

"Hush," Martel said softly. "Don't jinx us."

They came quickly to a sealed doorway; Cleo effortlessly removed the trap from the door, and it burst open, knocking the King back. Martel screamed as a large monster, like a huge, bipedal boar, emerged from the room with a shrieking roar. Kratos' sword was in his hand in a second, and he lunged at the demon as Yuan threw a lightening spell at the creature.

The initial shock of the sudden attack wore off Martel and Mithos, and Mithos joined the battle with a spell of his own. Martel went to the fallen Cleo, checking to make sure he hadn't been seriously harmed. The fall twisted his ankle, and she shouted to her companions that she needed to help him get away from the battle. She did not get a response, and didn't expect one. Instead, she pulled one of Cleo's arms around her shoulders and stood, straining under the man's additional weight. He balanced himself as well as he could to help her assist him, but he couldn't bear weight on that leg; when they had stood together, he tried and nearly caused them both to collapse again.

Martel and Cleo limped away from the fight, as quickly as she could carry him. They turned a corner; Martel assumed that this would shield the king enough from the battle and eased him down against the wall. The half-elf cast a light healing spell over his leg, to dull the pain a bit; "I'm sorry," said Martel quietly, once it was done. "I'll be back as soon as we've killed that thing!"

As she moved to stand, Cleo grabbed her sleeve. "Wait!" he exclaimed, through clenched teeth. "I've been nothing but rude to you half-elves. Why-?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you, or see you hurt," Martel responded. "I'm sorry, I have to go help them!"

Martel pulled away from Cleo before he could stop her again, and dashed back in the direction of the battle. She ran headlong into Yuan, and the two almost toppled to the floor together; Yuan put his hands on Martel's shoulders to stabilize them both, and their eyes met for a second that took Martel's breath away as surely as if she had fallen.

But it was only a moment, and a very brief one. Yuan abruptly broke their eye contact, looking at the floor. "The battle's over," he said.

Indeed, Martel now realized that there was no clamor. Kratos and Mithos glanced around the corner, both apprehensive and clearly worried. "Was anyone hurt?" Martel asked.

"No," Mithos answered, breathless from the fight. Then, to Cleo, he asked, "Are there any other monsters like that down here?"

"I don't know," Cleo answered, completely honest and bewildered. "That should not have been down here. I swear, I had no idea it was and don't know why."

The group exchanged glances. "Well, that means we can't just leave him here," Mithos said grimly. "If there's another one of those demons and it finds him, he'll be helpless."

"I'll be fine," Cleo contradicted. "The more I think about it, the more I know that thing shouldn't have been here. If you can heal me enough that I can walk, Martel, I'll go back to our campsite."

"There are monsters there, too," Kratos observed dryly.

"We weren't attacked a single time last night, Kratos," Cleo snipped. "There's nothing out there." When none of the companions seemed convinced, the King gasped in aggravation. "I'll be fine!" he repeated in irritation. "It's much more important that you forge the pact with Sylph right now than it is to worry about me."

Much to everyone's surprise, it was Mithos who replied. "Your Majesty, all due respect," he said, his voice low, "but if something happens to you, I'm not sure saving Asgard from that demon would help much. You don't have an heir."

The young half-elf's last statement was pointed, accusing. Mithos noticed that Kratos' gaze fixed on him, carefully blank and unreadable. He made a note to tell Kratos that doing that made it painfully easy to see that he was distressed; right now, though, Cleo was answering, "Even so, I have a close relative, as you know. He'd have the authority to make executive decisions just by virtue of blood. He doesn't have to be my heir."

Now Kratos was uncomfortable, and Cleo was staring at him. He heard his uncle's message, loud and clear: You might as well do it, since you can't get away from it. "Can you heal his ankle enough for him to get out without exhausting yourself?" he asked, feeling surreal.

"Yes," Martel answered quickly, and knelt next to the King once more.

As her healing energy soothed the pain in his ankle, Cleo said softly, "Thank you, Martel, for both the assistance and your earlier sentiment. It shall give me something to think about while I'm waiting for you."

"You're welcome," Martel replied with a slight smile, helping the man stand. "Be careful."

"And you as well, all of you. Good luck."

As they watched him walk away, Yuan said flatly, "I hope there aren't any more traps that need to be disarmed."

"Too late now," Mithos miffed. "Let's go."


All the summon spirit knew was that she and her sisters had been forcibly separated from their summoner. He was a powerful man, and a kind one. He was, however, involved in some shady business; his pact was not part of that, but it still made the three of them wary of forging the pact. To ease their minds, his oath would be that he would only ever seek enough power to defend his kingdom and his citizens. A worthy oath, especially considering what the man had his hands in.

None of them realized that he was breaking his oath when he sought to fortify his power. Neither the Spirit nor the Summoner could control the pact once it was made; their magical link did, controlled by the Kharlan Tree. If the Kharlan Tree truly interpreted Cleo's actions as seeking more power for his own ends, something was dreadfully wrong.

The fact that she was unaware of her surroundings was further proof of this, and she assumed her sisters were in the same position as she: blind, deaf, and for all intents and purposes, mute. They were ancient creatures, and had suffered through vow breakings before. This had never happened before.

As Fairess was pondering this again, for a lack of anything better to do, she abruptly could see and feel, and what she felt was pain. Her body struck the cold stones of the mausoleum roof hard, the sounds of a desperate battle ringing around her. The Sylph was able to shake off her confusion and take assessment of the situation; there were four warriors fighting them, three half-elves and a human who bore a resemblance to their summoner. Two of the half-elves were fighting with magic; one of them was drenched in a different kind of magic. Fairess gasped as she recognized the vibration of that magic, and scrambled back to the sky.

That half-elf child was fending off one of her sisters, desperate in his movements; he was hurt. Fairess lunged at Yutis and wrapped her arms around her sister, dragging Yutis to the ground. "Summoner!" Fairess screeched. "Make your vow!"

"I- but-"

"Do it! Hurry! I can't hold her-"

The half-elf child stuttered for a few more instants; just when Fairess thought that Yutis would fight free of her, he shouted, "I vow to rescue the Kharlan Tree!"

"We accept!" Fairess replied.

Abruptly, Yutis stopped struggling. Although she couldn't see the third sister, she heard Sephie say, very softly, "What- what are we doing?"

The group of warriors edged towards each other again. The moment the Sylph stopped fighting, they did as well; Fairess noted that none of them put their weapons away, though. Her gaze darted over them, her memory hazy. Things that she knew immediately before being suddenly awakened by being hurt fled from her mind. "We've been in a coma of sorts, it seems," Fairess said quietly. "We have no idea what's going on. I'm sure this situation is quite interesting."

The half-elf child stepped forward, clearly anxious. None of his anxiety was reflected in his voice. "I am Mithos," he said. "That's my sister Martel, and my- my friends, Kratos and Yuan." Fairess caught the half-elf's hesitation at the word "friend", as though he was testing the temperature of hot drink. He seemed to like it. "The Kharlan Tree is dying," Mithos continued. All three of the spirits knew this, but didn't interrupt him. "We're trying to save it."

"We know about the condition of the Tree," Yutis informed him. "All of the Spirits can feel it; we get our power from the Tree. The more it declines, the harder it is to control our power."

"I can sense that you've already forged a pact with Efreet," Sephie added. "You're just a child, though." To her sisters, she asked, "Does he have the strength and control to go making these pacts willy-nilly?"

"I don't know," Fairess responded. "But if someone's willing to try, we've got to give him a fair chance." And then she addressed the group again: "But our previous summoner wanted to do this. I know he tried, and I know that we were forced to reject his new vow and break our existing pact. What-" Fairess's voice cracked slightly; there was a chance that they had inadvertently killed the man.

"What became of our previous summoner, do you know?" Sephie asked for her.

"He is alive and unharmed, except perhaps his pride," Kratos answered. "He guided us here to forge the new pact with you. It seems that we have a more immediate problem than the Kharlan Tree, and we absolutely must get your assistance in dealing with it."

Again, the spirits listened patiently to the story of Mesaton's destruction, as well as the attacks on Asgard. By the end of that tale, the Sylph's demeanor was grave. "If this is the demon we think it is," Fairess said quietly, "the situation is much worse than we previously believed. Even with our power going out of control, it should not have released that creature. Its seal was not tied to us once it was done."

"We should go to Asgard as quickly as possible," Yutis said. "If it's already destroyed Mesaton, it'll keep coming back until it is satisfied that Asgard is in a sufficient state of ruin, as well."

"Can you seal it up again?" Yuan asked them, sounding doubtful.

"We can," was Sephie's reply. "Let's go, quickly. We need to get there before it does!"