Dante: Omg, to say I'm really late with this update would be an understatement. xD Last update was October of 2006... sorry it took so long! I started writing original fiction shortly after that, and got hooked, and I've only been able to delve back into fanfic for oneshots. Buuut I've been slowly poking away at this over that period, and I just finally finished it. I hope people still remember this story. xD
Anyway, forgive the inconsistent style/writing level - it took me so long to write this chapter my writing style kept changing as I was writing it.
Anyway, it's been long coming, but here it is! Also, it was starting to take too long, so I'll just do review responses by message 3
Chapter 5
Cinaed lay awake in bed, his hands folded under his head as he stared up at the ceiling, listening to the deep, rhythmic breathing of Aleos and Orior as they slept in their beds. His burgundy mane was arrayed out on the pillow below him, and he had rolled the sheet down to his waist to try to stave off the stifling summer heat. He watched as dancing leaves played mottled moonlight off his bare chest, shining off the scales that dusted his shoulders and trailed down his pectorals and arms.
He jerked sharply as there was a light rap on his door, and he sat up in his bed, hazel eyes watching the door to the inn room warily. "Who is it?"
"It's me, Maris. Can I come in?"
Cinaed took a quick glance around the room, saw his compatriots sound asleep, and gave his assent. There was a faint creak as the door racked open and the Imilian slipped in, a lighted candle shielded in her hands. She was wearing a light blue nightgown and her navy hair was down and mussed, as if she had lain restlessly. "You couldn't sleep either?" the Star Magician said, putting the candlestick down on the bedside table.
Cinaed shuffled over to the other side of the bed, leaned up on one elbow, and gestured for Maris to sit on the other side. He paused as if considering his answer, and then nodded. "No, I couldn't. It may simply be the unfamiliar room," he shrugged vaguely.
Maris sighed. There was several moments of uncomfortable pause, and at length, spoke. "But it's not that, is it? You can feel it, too, can't you?"
"I'm a warrior, a hunter, and what's more, a Proxian. My senses and instincts rarely fail me, and if a common human like you can feel what I'm feeling, it must be serious indeed."
Maris lay down beside him, and stared up at the ceiling as he looked at her expectantly. "What do you feel?" she asked softly.
He paused for a moment, wrapped in silence as he collected his thoughts. "A deep unsettled instinct," he responded. "I cannot put my finger on the cause, but I something doesn't seem natural. It's too quiet, as if all the small creatures had fallen ill or frightened. Listen," he said, and nodded up at the open window. "Even the crickets and such have stopped chirping."
Maris shivered, her turquoise eyes tossing a look at the window herself. She snuggled up to the Proxian, feeling the warmth of the Mars Adept enfold her as he smiled down and put an arm around her shoulder, idly brushing her hair with the backs of his fingers. "Cinaed," she said softly, "do you think it's related to our quest tomorrow?"
Cinaed looked down as she turned her face up to look at him, and he smiled. "For all we know, it could be. Many forces seek to oppose us, but we mere men cannot know them all – that is up to the Gods. We must merely fulfill the role they give to us warriors, to defend what is right and just. Why do you ask?" he said lightly, as she turned around and leaned back into his chest. "Are you afraid to leave?"
"Well… maybe just a little," she admitted. "But don't you dare tell anyone, Cinaed! It's just, for all our 'experience' in travelling the world, this is not our world. The landscape, the people, the very water itself are all different… things have happened over these past thousand years, Cinaed, and the land bears the mark. Can't you feel it?"
Cinaed was quiet for a moment, stroking her hair thoughtfully. "There is a story in Prox that Fire, the great Element of Mars, is shaped and formed by all that it has consumed… fed on brush and trees, the fire spreads throughout the forest, leaving desolation behind, but refertilising the soil. We also cremate our people, so that they may return to the Fire. If fire is used for evil, it will begin to savour the taste of flesh, and will burn more fiercely, and be more difficult to control. In the ancient days – far beyond our time – the Fire was used severely in war, and as its nature became more and more wild, the Adepts would sought to wield it found they couldn't control it, and the fire ripped through Weyard ruthlessly." He smiled down on her. "It may be a primitive fable, but the earth now has borne everything this past Dim Age, and it has undoubtedly changed."
Maris looked blankly at him for a moment, then elbowed him in the ribs. "Wow, I never knew you were such a wise shaman, Cinaed."
"Oof," the Proxian winced, and mussed the Imilian's hair, to which she shouted indignantly.
They froze as Aleos and Orior stirred in their sleep, and the former buried his head deeper into the pillow.
"We need to be quieter," Cinaed said archly, in a whisper.
"Tell me about it," Maris said breaking down into giggles. "Look at us, here. If they were to catch us like this, we'd never hear the end of it."
Cinaed appeared to think about this. "That's true. Anyway," Cinaed continued, "I suspect the real reason the world is different is because of the most obvious one – it is suffering from a thousand years of lack of Alchemy, and so it has eroded, changed, and become weaker." He paused for a moment, and tilted her head up to look at him. "You're worried about Lumeria, right?"
"Well, it's not that simp-, what I mean is- well, yes," she admitted. "If the world's changed as much as it seems to have, I'm afraid what shape Lumeria is going to be in. Aleos said Hydros is still alive, but I just don't know, Cinaed," she leaned back and blew her bangs out of her eyes, worried.
Cinaed reached up with one roughened Proxian hand and tucked her bangs behind her ears, smiling tenderly. "Maris, love, there's no use worrying about what tomorrow will bring, especially not at a late hour such as this. The least we can do is simply go to sleep, and wake up in the morning, well-rested."
Maris gave a little sigh and a sheepish smile. "You're right, as always. Goodnight, my wise dragon," she tilted her head back as he tilted his down, and they kissed upside-down.
As she nestled against her Proxian lover, his hands curling gently around her waist as he drew her towards him, a serene quiet fell over the room, filled only by the muted breathing of Orior and Aleos. Slowly, in sync, the Imilian and Proxian's breathing began to slow as well as they drew away from consciousness, down to that sleeping dreamland, past dreamland, to that subconscious state of relaxation where evil could not reach.
If only.
The door to the innroom disappeared – except, it did not so much disappear as crunch in on itself, folding inside over and over as if it was a piece of tissue paper, sending splinters flying in every direction. But even those splinters could not escape the door's fate, as they seemed to fly through the air, freeze, and then draw back into the black and swirling vortex where the door had been, only a few remnants visible, pieces of oak just disappearing through the portal.
"Hmmm, what?" Maris mumbled lazily, half opening one eye. "Who's making that awful racket…?"
It took her brain a few moments to register just what was happening, and by then the first of the shadowy, ghost-like claws had emerged from the darkness beyond the door. "By Nereid! Everyone, wake up! We've got company!" She realized her own foolishness then, in leaving herself undefended – Leviathan was back in her room.
"Wake up!" she yelled frantically, and raised her hand. There was a gathering of red psynergy, and an Anger Ball formed there, steam hissing already from between the chinks in its armour. With a roundabout swing, she hurled the not-very-happy Ball into the portal, and waited for the inevitable explosion.
There was none, and as she opened her eyes, she saw the first of the creatures, not five paces from her. The Anger Ball was nowhere to be seen, and the creature seemed to be wearing a derisive smirk, as if laughing at her pathetic attempt.
It was merely an insubstantial shape, a suggestion of a form standing- floating, rather – before her. A long, sinuous and gaseous tail served both as its body and its legs, the tip just barely scraping the ground as it looked at her flippantly. Three-clawed "hands", if they could be called that, floated like pincers in the air, connected to the "body" by a single black thread, or so it seemed. Its head was blunt and jarring forward, vaguely birdlike, its beak half-open to display… nothingness. Golden eyes glared at her from deep-set sockets, and a frill of spines rose from the back of its head. But again, it just seemed… a shadow, something not really there.
"Br-r-r-r-r-r-ack!" it choked out, in a surprisingly deep voice, and from the still-moving portal behind it three more emerged.
A fireball streaked over Maris' shoulder and at the beast, and she didn't have to turn to know it was from Cinaed, who would be undoubtedly standing in a dramatic pose, sheets wrapped around his waist to save his dignity, one hand flung out in front of a hardened expression, the other holding up the blanket. She smiled knowingly, and waited for the creature to be blown to bits by the attack.
It didn't happen. It passed through the creature as if it wasn't even there, the glow of the fire vanishing in the portal behind. The creature smiled viciously. It then began to advance on Maris, its claws reaching forward ahead of it.
Maris gave a cry, and looked around frantically for something, anything, to defend herself. Her eyes alit on Draconaix, Cinaed's halberd, and she seized it. Wrapping both hands around the shaft, she struggled to lift it.
Neptune! She thought with amazement. It must weigh well near seventy pounds! She managed to lift the shaft off the ground, but the head lay stubbornly on the floor. She gave a frustrated cry of hopelessness, but just then powerful arms reached from behind her, placing scaled and roughened hands over hers.
"Let's do this together," Cinaed said coolly, calming her. She set her mouth, and nodded, and lifted with all her might. Cinaed lifted as well, and the weapon swung easily off the ground, its steel edge brought to bear, and for a moment, the creature hesitated.
Now it was their turn to seize the moment, as the blade swung like the executioner's axe, aiming to diagonally bisect the creature.
"No, stop!" Aleos' voice, alarmed. He had awakened during the battle. "That's a Demitia, a gravity demon! You can't kill it like-"
His voice stopped midsentence as his point became readily apparent – the blade passed through the creature with hardly a whisper, and then on the return trip, the Demitia's claw raised and caught it, three bladed claws encircling it easily.
Cinaed and Maris had never felt anything like it. Suddenly, the weapon in their hands grew inexplicably heavy, suddenly weighing a hundred, five hundred, a thousand pounds. Maris' delicate hands nearly broke at the strain, and she gave a squeal and ducked away. Cinaed glared alone across at the creature, hazel eyes burning with an internal fire, as his muscles bulged and veins stood out like cords.
The Demitia only smiled once more, and then waves of rippling darkness blasted out from its hands and down the shaft of the weapon, which suddenly seemed to weigh a million pounds. Cinaed dropped it with an exclaimed curse, and watched as the shaft fell and shattered through the floorboards-
Only to stop as the creature tightened its grip on it and lifted it, light as a feather, onto its shoulder. It gave Cinaed a jaunty wave goodbye, then turned and vanished through the portal, taking Draconaix with it.
Maris and Cinaed turned and saw with alarm their friends wrestling with their own creatures, Aleos valiantly fighting off one of them with an unearthly glow emanating from Masamune, and it seemed neither of the two creatures was willing to touch it, as they dodged every slash he made.
Over his shoulder, a not-so-sleepy-anymore Orior was tugging on the hilt of Auraleo, while the claws of the hissing demon were wrapped around its blade. The creature spared a glance the Proxian's way, noted the absence of his fellow, and turned back to Orior. As with Cinaed, a blast of darkness emanated from its claws, and Orior let go of Auraleo with a muted cry of surprise. Then, the creature turned on Aleos, and swung the gold-green blade.
The Wise One's eyes widened as he caught the blade coming from his peripheral vision, and he turned Masamune to bear, blocking the creature's slash and, with a deft turn of his wrist sent the creature flying through the portal – unfortunately, Orior's sword still in hand.
It was all the opening the other two creatures needed, as they reached from behind him, each one grabbing a wrist.
Aleos only had time for a brief "Wha-" before the creature's eyes glowed, and a cackling storm of black energy ripped through the air, sending wave after wave of Luna over Aleos, who let out a grunt of pain. His eyes, squinted with pain, narrowed, and with a burst of energy which sent the creature's flying back, the human Aleos disappeared –
and the Wise One floated there.
It seemed Fate was angry with his servant, however. Lacking hands, Masamune dropped uselessly to the ground, and clattered before the demons. They looked at it, before finally snapping out of their reverie and snatching it up, disappearing through the portal with one last terrified look over their shoulders. The portal closed, and silence reigned supreme in the room.
The Wise One's eye lowered to the floor, and in his rocky expression all could read his disbelief. The rock shifted, grinding against itself to form a man-shape, before closing over the azure eye and bursting into dust to reveal Aleos standing there, disbelief still acutely visible on his expression.
"Look," Maris said mutely, and pointed at the floor where the portal had been. In its place, words were scrawled, as if with heavy black charcoal. They are stared as they read:
Your move.
The silence stretched for a couple more moments, and was broken suddenly by Aleos' harsh laughter. "So," he choked out between gasps of mirth, "Demante still thinks this is all a game, does he? Still thinks it's just a schoolyard game of chess! Well, he's sadly mistaken."
The Void Adept turned to the window, and stalked towards it. "Demante! Hear me, this is no game! You may have taken away our playing toys, but in the end, you'll find yourself distraught, all your betting come to naught. I don't care who you are, what kind of powers you have, or by Coatlicue's thong, I don't care about anything! I've had enough of you, and I swear now, I will destroy you!"
Suddenly, just as quickly as it had come, Aleos' rage disappeared. "Just as we defeated you the first time," he spoke, barely a whisper, "so shall we defeat you again. I did not risk everything and suffer a thousand years of slavery to let another darkness of shadow cover our land."
The others stood in silence, shocked at Aleos' outburst. Then, Maris stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on Aleos' shoulder. "Aleos…" she said compassionately.
He whirled around, silvered hair flying out behind him, and shoved her. The Imilian stumbled back a few paces, and Orior put an arm in front of Cinaed, stopping the man as he gritted his teeth and made to move forward.
"What…" Aleos said through gritted teeth and panting, glaring at Maris from under the messy strands of his hair. "… do you want. Want do you want from me. Is it not enough that we have just suffered our first loss of the war!? Without our weapons, what are we? Those are the only things that guided us through defeating Regnoare the first time, in case you have forgotten!!"
But Maris would not be swayed. "We managed just fine without their power against the Spirits," she said quietly. "And you haven't done so bad yourself without it, in one thousand years."
"Heh… yeah, right." Aleos said bitterly. "A demigod, that's what they called me. Sure. Of course I managed just fine… I've lost my humanity. And what are you doing in here, anyway!?" he suddenly demanded.
Maris blinked, startled. "What?"
"What are you doing in our room?" Aleos demanded again. His eyes flicked back to Cinaed, standing in only a sheet. "Ah. I see. Having a little fun, are we?"
"Aleos!" Maris said, shocked. "What's gotten into you?"
"It's not what's gotten into me, it's what I've realised." He gave a hollow laugh. "No wonder we lost our first match of the war… you two are more concerned with rutting like rabbits than our cause."
"ALEOS." Cinaed said angrily, his eyes flashing dangerously.
"What is it, Proxian?" Aleos said, laughingly. "Can't handle the truth? We are the Fivefold, legendary warriors and sacred knights… we should be above such… activities. And besides, this is an inn, not," he gave a sweeping gesture of the room. "A whorehouse."
Maris and thus far, remained quiet, head downcast and hands balled into fists at her side. Now she looked up, cerulean eyes blazing behind her mussed hair. "Are you," she said, far too icily, "calling me a whore?"
"Yes, I am, my dear," Aleos said, his eyes dancing with challenge. "For that's exactly what you are. What would your father Poseidon say," he went on mockingly. "If he were to see you now, you whore."
Maris stood in silent shock for a moment, her mouth agape and her eyes wide with disbelief. "I can't believe, you just-" then her features hardened and her eyes narrowed, and she reached up and slapped Aleos' across the face. Hard. "How could you say that!?"
"You are!" Aleos cried, his own hands clenching and unclenching, as if he was itching to use them. "I am the one who finally defeated Regnoare, I am the one the Gods' chose as their messenger, I am the one who laboured day in and day out for a thousand years to keep Weyard safe! And then," he said, his voice thick with bitterness and mockery. "Then, after I free you from a thousand years of blessed, senseless confusion, what is the first thing you do? You go and do this! When we have a new cause to serve, greater than ever before! THIS is what you should be concerned with, not with exploring every part of Cinaed's body!"
A primal growl escaped Cinaed's lips and he lurched forwards once again, and Orior once more put a hand on Cinaed's arm and stopped him, even though he himself was glaring at Aleos with anger in his eyes.
"Are you so much of a child, you spoil Imilian brat, that you think you can do whatever you want and shirk your duties whenever you feel like it? Is that what you think? Well, let me tell you something, whore. You are sadly mistaken!" he proclaimed, practically screaming with rage.
His words seemed to hung in the silence afterwards like a poison, a polluted fog that clouded the minds of all those present.
"Aleos…" Cinaed said dangerously, and made as if to step forward. Orior made no move to prevent him.
"Stop." It was Maris, as she swept back a hand dismissively. "Let me deal with this."
"Aleos," she said, in a dangerous tone, fires burning in her eyes. "What happened to you? What have you become? Mercury, the Aleos I knew would never say such things to someone he once called his ally, his fellow Fivefold, and his friend. You really lost your humanity… haven't you?" She glared at him. "Too many years lording over all humanity, drifting in a far off place, revelling in your ultimate power and by Pelagius, why not immortality, too? You had everything you could want: a place in the world, serving the very Gods themselves, with a promise to be reunited with your lost ones someday! It must've been nice, was it, having people slave over your every whim and fall to their knees whenever you entered the room?"
The bitterness in Aleos' eyes could've rivalled poison. "Do not lecture me," he said harshly, "about what you could never know, Maris. You weren't the one who couldn't know the simplest pleasures of eating, sleeping, even normal conversation with another human! Locked in the eternal cycle of trying to save a bunch of humans bent on destroying themselves, seeking the power of Sol Aurarius to rule the world?"
"Have you forgotten, Aleos?" Maris spat. "You're human, too. You may fool yourself with your all-importance in Weyard, but you and I, all of us, we're nothing more than humans, touched by Sol Aurarius. If you were locked in a cycle, we were locked in Morxez, hell… not knowing even the comfort of the sun. Yet nonetheless, we are human, with human feelings and emotions and dreams, and so are you."
Aleos snarled. "I renounced my humanity long ago. I know only what the Gods tell me to do and what I must do to achieve Weyard's peace." He turned away, to the window. "Only once that is done, can I finally rest. With Aquina, and all those we left behind in our time," he said softly.
There was a solemn pause, as the atmosphere in the room reached a fervour pitch, a choking fog. Cinaed and Orior waited guardedly to see what Maris would say, waiting to intervene if things got out of hand.
Then… a new voice rang out. "Did you really think that's what I would want you to do, brother? Waste what precious moments of life you have left, living everything in mourning for me? That's sweet and all, but Aleos, that's just not right."
Aleos' blood froze, and for a moment he wondered if he had gone insane, mad with long-pent up grief. A dark corner of his mind would've welcomed this refrain from thought, but Aleos knew reality was still before him. Almost dreading what he could see, Aleos turned around slowly… and almost died of shock.
There, almost as if she had never been poisoned from the inside out my Regnoare's darkness spell and then battered by the ruining of Vale, was Aquina. Her teal-coloured hair – which she inherited from her mother, Aleos remembered, and he had almost forgotten it's almost ethereal glossiness – was parted in the centre of her forehead like it always had been, as if one thousand years had not passed, tucked behind her ears and then curling over her neck in the exact way it always had. Her face was set in an unfamiliar expression, one that spoke volumes of love, confusion, and betrayal… all at the same time. She was clad in a simple nightgown, and the grey eyes she shared with her brother seemed to look right through him.
"Aleos…" she said, stepping forward and compassionately taking his hand. "What have you become? Would you cast your own life aside to dwell in the bitterness of the past, forgo the very friends and family that stood by you… you sadden me, Aleos," she said sharply, and for a moment an expression of hurt flashed across his face. "You reduce yourself to petty insults and find comfort in your arrogance, when in reality, you are nothing more than a dried up husk of a man," she spat. "Sometimes, I wish that you would have died with me in Vale, and Regnoare had taken over the world. For what good is living if we live at each other's throats and hoard our pride like gold? I think you need a reality check, Aleos dear. You have forgotten what it means to be human, to feel emotion… you've cut yourself off from humankind, as you said. And both your family…"
There was a shimmering around her, like waves of heat off black rock in the summer, a golden sparkle, and suddenly she was Aquina no more, but Maris, standing in front of Aleos and glaring daggers in his eyes. "Until you have regained your humanity, Aleos, you are dead to me," she said harshly, "what good is it talking to someone who has lost what it means to be human? One might as well talk to a Mantrak, you heartless Wise One. Goodbye," Maris said forlornly, then turned and ran out of the room.
Silence once more reigned supreme, and then Cinaed levelled a dark Proxian glare at the Void Adept. "I will never forgive you this insult, Aleos," he spat. "My Maris is not a whore." With a self-righteous tug, he fastened the sheet around him tightly, grabbed his cloak, and left the room.
Aleos scowled at Orior. "You going to leave, too?"
"Nah," he responded, "there wouldn't be much point in that. You and me, Aleos, need to talk, man-to-man. But first, we need to rouse the others, and see if any of the Heroes have suffered the same encounter we did. We may be in trouble."
Aleos' eyes widened. "By the void, that's right! We better move, now." And even as he spoke, they became aware of the muffled shouts of alarm and groggy surprise drifting through the window. He made as if to leave the room.
Orior laid a warning hand on his shoulder. "But. We will talk about this."
Aleos scowled once more, but stopped when Orior glared at him. "… Okay."
Cinaed caught up to Maris in the hall. "Maris!" he said, sharper than he intended. He put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, but she shrugged it off and kept running.
"Leave me alone now, Cinaed! I just need some time to myself!" And without another word, she ran out into the night, leaving Cinaed at a loss behind.
That's where they found Maris, sitting on the bridge, legs hanging over the edge to feel the spray of the river as it splashed against the rocks. She was sniffling, her navy hair wet and plastered against her face; she looked like as if she had gotten a little too close to the river.
Shamira and Sheba, who had been out for a walk together, talking of Sheba's life in Lalivero, and stumbled inadvertently upon Maris. Shamira immediately knelt down, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Maris, what happened? What's wrong?"
Maris sniffed, and wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh, it's that bastard Aleos!" she said angrily. "He thinks he'd all that and a bag of chips."
Shamira laughed. "Well, that's nothing new," she said, looping an arm comforting around Maris' shoulder. "What did he do this time? Not give anybody any spending money again?"
"He called me a whore," Maris said icily.
"I've said worse," Shamira said indifferently. Noticing Maris' glare, she hastily corrected, "not about you, of course. But seriously, don't pay any attention to him. He's probably just being difficult. Do you know what got him in that mood?"
"Uh, yeah." Maris' eyes widened. "Oh Mercury, I forgot! We were attacked by some strange demons, and while we weren't really hurt, all our weapons got stolen!"
Shamira cursed. "I left my weapons back at Sheba's tent – that's where I'm staying. We ought to get back, wouldn't you say, Sheba?"
Sheba, who had remained characteristically quiet, rolled her eyes. "No duh, genius. Let's get back," with that, she tugged Shamira away.
"Talk to you tomorrow, Maris!" Shamira waved.
"Goodbye, Shamira, and stay safe. Look out for demons and stuff." Maris smiled.
But the night was not over, she returned to the inn, her mind slowly turning to what she would inevitably have to face.
One thousand years. One thousand years. Fifty generations over their own, life spent in a time that wasn't their own.
She went to see Aleos.
At first, they just stood facing each other, glaring, while Orior stood on the sidelines, arms crossed – ever the responsible one, and Cinaed stood closer to Maris, glaring at Aleos.
"Aleos, I-"
But he cut her off. "Maris, stop. Both of us said stuff we should not have, and both of us now have to live with the consequences. That's just the way it is."
Maris looked back at him, sadness tugging its weight on the corners of her mouth. "You know things won't be the same again between us, Aleos, not anytime soon."
"All the better that we'll soon be separated on our quest," he said, sharper than he intended.
Orior glanced up at him warningly, and he saw Cinaed curl his lip faintly in distaste.
Aleos threw up his arms. "Fine, side with her. Prepare your adepts to leave tomorrow, that's all I ask." With that, he stormed out of the room.
They looked at each other. "This is not a good omen for the start of our journey," Orior murmured.
"Find the others."
"So, what you're telling me," Sheba said sceptically, looking from one downcast, darkened face to the other, "is that we're about to set out on the apparently greatest trial yet, already been thrown aside by some demons from hell, and on top of that, all our equipment has been stolen?"
"That's what we're telling you," Jenna confirmed with a smile.
"Great," Sheba said, rubbing her hands together. "It can't be any crazier than half the stuff we've already done."
The eight heroes, Kraden, and the Fivefold were gathered at the entrance to Vale, hoisting their packs, each full of Herbs, food, and sleeping materials. A small crowd from Vale, mostly friends and family, had gathered to see them off.
"I feel naked without a weapon," Cinaed commented dryly, his eyes red and tired. He had spent most of the night fighting off demons and then Maris and Aleos off each other, and it was enough to make any man feel stretched a little thin. The absence of the comforting weight of his halberd across his back was something he keenly felt, but he tried to ignore it.
"Don't worry, we're not entirely without weapons," Cara's voice called out from behind the crowd. It parted for her, and the two burly weaponsmiths dragging a wheelbarrow full of weapons behind them. "These just came in from Prox, and I reckon you'll need them more than any of us. They're not the majestic weapons you're used to, but they're functional. Vale's footing the bill for it, so we have to definitely accomplish our mission."
The Adepts crowded around the wheelbarrow, as the shopkeepers stood back and let them pick what they thought would be best for them.
Ivan, Jenna, Shamira, and Piers selected Master Rapiers, a blade that seemed to shine white in polished steel, with a gold-hued bellguard that curved back over their fingers.
Felix, Isaac, and Orior chose Great Swords, six foot blades that seemed capable of crushing stone, with a similarly gold hilt and handle, and a pearly white blade that reflected hues of sapphire, so that it seemed water ran down the edge of the blade like a stream, reflecting the light.
Cinaed and Garet, macho Mars Adepts through and through, each selected a giant double-bladed Great Axe, each five feet across at the head and four feet long.
Mia, Sheba, and Maris all took Martial Staves, a design recently imported from Xian. They were each five feet of hollow, lightweight steel, with a blade of cold iron in the head.
Aleos snarled at the wagonload of weapons. "I fight with Masamune or with none at all."
The weaponmaster shrugged at him. "It's your life, buddy."
Isaac scanned the faces of his friends. "All ready?"
They looked at each other, and nodded. The Fivefold exchanged looks and did the same, save for Maris, pointedly avoiding Aleos' searching look.
He shrugged. "Let's move out."
Shortly after, everyone was gathered with packs in hand, lingering around the gates of Vale as the townsfolk stood around to say goodbye. The heroes exchanged looks that seemed a bit anxious, a bit reserved, and a bit curious. They were about to set off on a journey with a group of five adults who just appeared on their doorstep and instantly gained the trust of the elders of their village.
But after witnessing the assault against the Elder by that demon, they couldn't deny that something was wrong. And if they didn't at least try to see why monsters were appearing, they couldn't call themselves heroes.
Not that they did anyway, of course.
As for the Fivefold, they were still a little hurt, upset, and confused. They had gone through their own quest, were thrown in a thousand-year hell as a reward, and now discovered that they had to go on yet another.
As for Kraden, he was simply thrilled to be journeying with the Wise One.
"Well," Aleos said, turning to face the open fields of Weyard. "Let us begin the advent of our adventure."
Glitter like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid
The road was exactly as they had all remembered, and despite their misgivings about the future they faced and the hardships ahead, they couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement.
They walked a few miles down the road to Vault, the few trees that survived the destruction of Vale standing proud and tall among a sea of tiny saplings. The road was cleared for a hundred feet on either side for larger parties, a wide and grassy river that flowed down from the mountains towards the civilization of Vault.
The sky above them was a clear, crystal blue, devoid of clouds and fresh with the scent of hope, of adventure, of new things and new opportunities. They began to swing into that gait, the easy travellers gait that wasn't fast, but conserved energy and set them for a long hard day of walking until they got to their closest destination. They tried to let the sunny weather distract them from the thought that they would have to say goodbye to some of their friends and the crossroads, as some walked down the roads fated to them, while others continued on.
Fortunately, or perhaps not so, they were provided with an easier distraction.
The soil churned before them, rocks splintering like wood and dirt erupting into the air like the flash of sparks from an anvil. The ground wilted away and peeled back as something rose from the depths beneath. Long and arcing tentacles burst from the ground and waved through the air searchingly, before planting themselves like sick plants in the ground, as even more quested from the ground beyond.
The thirteen heroes stood, and as one, drew their weapons – all save for Aleos, who really needed no weapon. Kraden stepped back to observe, as the monster roared from the ground.
It resembled a massive, seething nest of tentacles, each attached to a cone-like centrepiece, which seemed the creature's head. Many smaller tentacles on its bottom reached out and hefted it out of the ground, where it hovered placidly. Its veritable forest of tentacles whipped around, then each twisted and touched its tip almost docilely to the ground, some threading over others. It exposed the cone core of the beast, a rounded and hairless thing nonetheless corded with muscle.
As they watched in disbelief, a figure ascended the far side of the monster and stood on its head while the creature stood still. The figure wore a ragged brown cloak, edges torn and frayed, with a high hood pulled low of its face and a blue breastplate over the chest. It extended one cool, pale hand towards the heroes, and in its voice they heard the faint shadow of a smile.
"Good afternoon, heroes. Lovely day for an adventure, isn't it? Our perhaps you're just sightseeing? 'cause I dearly, dearly hope you aren't out to oppose any demonic overlords, are you? That would be tragic, and also ultimately futile. My master has waited for many many years to have this chance to rule Weyard, and his army is vast. Submit, throw down your weapons, and we might let you live as slaves."
Tell them exactly what I tell you to, a voice said quietly in his mind, and he felt a nick of pain in his skull.
He winced mentally. Yes, master…
Or, better yet, my little bishie…
"Or, better yet," the messenger said slowly. "Relinquish the Golden Sun, also known as Sol Aurarius, from your possession, and we'll leave you alone completely and even carve a place for you in the coming New World."
I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak through my voice, Demante.
Pay attention, Alex, you might learn something. I figured this experience would be educational for you, and that's why you're here. So pay attention – these are your enemies.
Does that include Mia? Alex responded, as he gazed at her confused face from under his hood.
She… she is whatever you want her to be, my comrade.
"The Golden Sun?" Isaac said angrily, hand on his blade. "You've made a mistake, sir. It lies in the hands of Alex, not us. If you think it does, perhaps you are even more deluded than he was."
He clenched his fists, but was stopped from attacking by the voice in his mind. Do nothing, Alex. Leave them to think on it, so they begin to doubt… they must not realize what they have, but so long as the possibility is in their mind…
Alex bowed deeply. "Alas. I leave you to play with Demante's gift. Perhaps we shall meet again. I shall be back for the Golden Sun."
Could we not have taken it there? Alex thought angrily. What's stopping us?
They are stronger than they appear, Demante answered. These things must be done delicately… we shall pick them off, one at a time, and so slowly increase in power, while theirs decreases. Now, return, Alex!
And the figure disappeared in a swirl of shadow.
Before the heroes could recover from that encounter, the monstrosity before them stirred.
It rose to its full height once more, ripple upon rippling tentacle raising into the air as it squirmed, clods of earth wrenched from the ground as it swung around haphazardly. And then, as if it had ways of sensing them beyond mere sight or hearing – for no eyes or ears could they see – it began to move towards them.
And then, it attacked.
Quick as lightning, the tentacles lashed out like whips and slapped the heroes, as its smaller tentacles continued to relentlessly manoeuvre the beast closer and closer, as it could bring more and more of its tentacles to bear.
"This is going to be one hell of an adventure, I think!" Garet said, swinging his axe wildly as he fought back to back with Piers.
"Now, wherever would you have drawn that conclusion from?" he returned, as he swung his rapier up in a quick arc and slashed one of the tentacles down the centre – but a shout of exultation quickly soured in his throat as both halves turned to him and began to strike anew.
Isaac and Felix circled each other, Great Swords sketching a whirlwind of motion in the air as the two frantically fought to keep the tentacles from grabbing one or the other.
Cinaed and Orior worked in concert to keep the tentacles away from the staff users, sweat pouring down their faces as they strained beneath heavy armour, fighting with unfamiliar blades. Mia, Sheba, and Maris stood within their field of protection, and they nodded at each other and as one began to charge their psynergies.
The monster seemed to cringe for a moment as an aura of violet and blue exploded beneath it, as the three women raised their arms. Cinaed and Orior moved aside as they cast their psynergies – a dragon-shaped river of water bursting forth from the two Mercury Adepts, lightning crackling in its mouth and from its eyes, as it wrapped miasmal body around the beast – then, gaping jaw plunging, teeth trying to tear into plantlike skin as it froze and exploded in a shower of razor-sharp crystals.
Psynergy shields flew up around the battlefield as crystals, glinting, tore through the air and drove into the ground.
They raised their heads, hesitant, and stared through a slowly shimmering cloud of snowdust.
Cinaed blew hair out of his eyes, and leaned panting on his axe. His eyes glowed darkly.
The cloud slowly fell, dreamlike, to the ground. The abomination didn't move for a moment as the curtain fell around it… and then writhed in rage. Merely irritated. Completely unharmed.
They stared in stupefaction.
That was all the beast needed to lash with every tentacle at once, wrapping tight around their bodies and lifting them high into the air.
"Psynergy immunity!" Shamira shouted, her hair flying around her face as the tentacle spun her madly through the air. "Son of an incestuous incubus!" she said, smashing her rapier against the tentacle holding her.
An action of futility.
The abomination's scales were leathery, impenetrable by such ordinary weaponry.
The tentacles swirled in a whirl and gathered at the centre as the beast's body opened, roselike, to reveal its gullet and razor teeth.
Reaching through the air, Cinaed and Maris lock hands, their eyes saying everything.
Psynergy flies into the belly of the beast as they fight to prolong their death.
But it is inevitable.
Darkness begins to swallow them as they are lowered, the rose-like petals beginning to close around them.
Then suddenly, a flash. And blinding light.
A cloaked figure rips through the wall of the petal and, in a tornado of whirling slashes, leaps from vine to vine, slashing it beneath him as he leaps to the next one.
A long tongue emerges from the gullet below, black and slimy, searching for flesh.
The figure executes a perfect backflip and pins the tongue to a vine with a elegant knife and severs both with his scimitar.
They fall, dreamlike, as the vines fall to pieces around them.
They plunge into the gullet of the beast.
But this time, they are ready.
They tear it apart from the inside out.
"Disgusting," Mia commented elegantly, and wiped monster blood and digestive juices off on Garet's tunic, who was just as covered as she was.
"Hold still," Maris said cheerfully, and soaked everyone with douse. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" But her grip on Cinaed's hand tightened.
Isaac breathed. "I don't think we appreciated how vulnerable we are without our weapons until now. Things may have been different without psynergy, but we must be prepared for the inevitability. That was too close," he said, holding out his hand.
It was shaking.
"It seems the enemy is prepared for us," Aleos said quietly. "In such a situation, is it truly wise to divide our forces? I know I can protect myself, but I don't know about you all."
As he said this his eyes strayed to Cara, white as a sheet and her eyes glistening from fear. Her weapon hung loose in her hands.
"We can handle ourselves," Felix said confidently. "There is no need to stray from what is planned."
Garet clapped him on the back. "Good man, Felix. Always knew you had some gut in you."
"Ahem," the cloaked figure coughed.
All eyes immediately shot to him in surprise.
"Ah, yes," Shamira said, shooting the figure a casual salute as she fingercombed monster goop from Sheba's hair. "Thank you for saving us, whoever you are."
The figure lowered his hood to reveal a familiar face.
He smirked and, throwing back his long black hair, thumbed his hooked nose at them. "My name is Lunpa, of course."
Glitter like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid
He awoke knowing everything, and yet knowing nothing.
The world seemed… strange. Dreamlike. Everything seemed… soft, fuzzy around the edges. As if someone had taken a cloth to the world and blurred the lines of colour. Red melted into orange melted into the cold white of the sky, speckled with black points.
He saw this through the window, as he lay, neck craned back, staring at the sky.
He knew that sky. But it was not supposed to be a cold white; it was supposed to be a comforting, warm dark. And the stars were not black, they sparkled with life. He had laid beneath them many times, sweat drying off his body in the cool air, her hand in his.
He remembered that.
But he did not remember why the world was reversed… why every colour he thought he knew was inverted and perverted, why black was white and the cool blue curtains of the Proxian inn a soft and malleable red.
He remembered his name, and her's.
Saturos. And Menardi.
"… Saturos?" her voice, soft and hesitant, the satin voice she only used when they were alone.
He must have spoken aloud. Turning his head, and hearing the rustling of the pillow, he assured himself that he was not dreaming.
She lay in a bed beside his, wrapped in a black shroud, as he was. Her hair was impeccably perfect, as it always was, her soft red eyes blinking.
She, at least, was right. And familiar.
Grunting, he swung himself out of the bed, tossing the sheets away from him angrily. He was frustrated. He was out of his element, confused, and in a foreign environment. His muscles bulged as the dragonblood began to beat in his veins, and his eyes slitted, snakelike.
If this was Prox, why did it feel so wrong?
There was a rustling as Menardi moved off the sheets.
She stood before him, finger plucking at the collar of her dress.
His eyes fell and noticed the deep blue dress she wore. It was a funeral dress, but the colour was wrong.
He felt her eyes on him and raised his to meet them.
Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but instead she simply rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him, digging her nails into his back to reassure them both they were there.
"What the Gehenna happened there?" she said through gritted teeth. "Last I remember, we were on the Aerie. The beacon was finally lit… I remember feeling elated, and then the bloodlust surged… what happened after that?"
He grimaced. "I don't remember," he said flatly.
He looked around at the room. It was deathly silent. His trained ears picked up not a scurry, not a footstep, not a whisper of air. Everything hung straight down, flat and dead. The door stood ajar.
"Walk with me, Menardi," he said, blood pounding in his veins.
She nodded, and together they stepped outside the door.
It was not just the stars that were black.
The houses of Prox were a strange, sickly yellow, and the snow they walked through was as black as ebony.
They could feel the wetness of the snow, but it was distant, and somehow false.
They kept walking through the silent streets, and stood at the gateway to Prox.
And looked out across the expanse of sparkling obsidian that was the tundra, an endless black expanse that reached all the way out as far as they could see… and at the very, very limits of their vision, there was an ominous red glow, reflecting the light of the black stars above.
The dead sky reached down with fingers wisped with black clouds, and touched where the bloody sea met the blackened snow.
"I've read of this realm," Saturos said quietly. "The world where everything is silent, and the world of the physical is reflected."
He turned to Menardi.
"Menardi, my little phoenix… we died on the Aerie. Remember? We fell into the beacon."
Menardi's eyes widened, and stepped forward she grabbed his collar. "What are you saying? This better not be another one of your jokes, Saturos!"
Saturos simply wrapped an arm around her and inclined his head, resting it in her hair. Of all the things here, alone, she felt alive.
Ironic.
"This is the spirit world," he whispered. "Realm of the dead."
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