Author's Notes: I have decided that a theme song for the story should be implemented. My suggestion is that you listen to "Life Starts Now" by Three Days Grace, off of their newest CD, Life Starts Now. "Life Starts Now," Life Starts Now, and Three Days Grace are the intellectual property of Three Days Grace and RCA/Jive Label Group, and I hold no ownership of either. I feel that both the lyrics and rhythm accurately depict the overarching theme and mood of the storyline. I may implement further themes for various reasons in the future.

***

Daryn prodded the fire contemplatively. Judging from the position of the moon, it was well after midnight. Scenes from the previous day flashed through his mind, a tumult of emotion and violence playing through his thoughts, one that refused to relent. He had been the only one to speak since the incident with Dycedarg the group's family members, save for Alyssa, who was still sequestered from the scene that the others had witnessed. His speaking was limited only for the purpose of answering the young priestess's questions. The mantle of leadership had always weighed heavily on his shoulders, but never as much as now. Today's events had forced him to take a position that he would wish upon nobody.

His eyes stared absently into the night, blind to the other figures that were assembled around the campsite, all of which equally quiet and still, obviously lost in their own thoughts. The darkness around the campfire seemed oppressive, pressing in on the group, threatening to envelop them in hopelessness. All of this passed unnoticed to the knight, so occupied with his own demons that he could not perceive the external darkness. His mind wandered, once again replaying the events of the day.

It had started as any other day, albeit one with a battle hanging in the balance. Anticipation was wrought throughout the gathered military force, some eager, some sorrowful, and some merely lost in thoughts for their families. Commoners and nobles, united under the banner of the Hokuten for the cause of Ivalice. Daryn had spoken a few quiet words to each of his friends and teammates, ensuring that they were prepared for the coming events.

To Tia, his words were those of reinforcement, knowing that the girl was well versed in her place in the group. "Remember, find your high ground. We will need your skills and support. Only resort to close combat if you are personally threatened; I will need you to be the eyes in the back of my head."

Rikk received words of faith. "Let your blade strike true, my friend. Keep in mind that your holy powers have saved our lives many times; ensure that you protect not only your sister, but all of us with your abilities. God smile upon your sword."

Tristan's advice was one of warning. Daryn was still fearful that his youth would lead to mistakes, and as the newest and youngest member of the assembled, he had not yet truly found his niche. "Stay with Tia, and use the tools you have. Your aim may be true, but don't rush into melee combat, and use the earth here to hinder our foes and aid our own movement. Remember not to be a hero; we need you to aid us, not everyone else. They have their own resources. Listen to Tia, for she is well versed in battle and is an excellent guiding source for you."

Alyssa received words of pure encouragement. She was still innocent, and her mind was not as scarred as that of the others. "Dearest, hide your eyes from the bloodshed. Use your mercy as you see fit, but please call upon the power of God to keep us fit. I would not tell you to ignore a wounded enemy in pain, but I would warn you that we come first. We are your friends and family, and we need you, perhaps more than any other."

Daryn himself had received no advice, no encouragement. He was a leader, and he carried the weight of his team on his shoulders alone. He reported directly to Heavenly Knight Barbaneth, the leader of the Hokuten, as his squad existed outside of the command structure. As the general was occupied with his own plans for the battle, he could not spare time to see to the young knight's ego or emotion. Thus, Daryn bore his burden alone, a leader and a stone, a pillar for his team to lean against in need with no support of his own. He had to be strong; he could not bend, not to anything.

The first hours of the battle were dull, with no necessity for the skills of the crack squad. It wasn't until the sniping arbalesters had appeared that Daryn's orders came down, and the tam had moved out without a word spoken, each knowing their place and purpose. Daryn was proud. The endless practice and drills had obviously paid off. He stayed dismounted, with Nyran following behind, using her powerful ability to summon flaming chunks of earth to clear the path before them. The formation was simple; Daryn took point, with Nyran on his heels, carving a path of destruction towards their goal. Behind them, at forty-five degree angles, were Tia and Rikk. Tia, her bow slung, used her mastery of chakra to block flank attacks, knocking back opponents from twenty paces away. Rikk called heavenly wrath upon opponents from the other flank, his sword carving neatly through anybody who strayed too close. In the center of the triangle were Alyssa and Tristan. Tristan supported all sides, conserving his precious ammunition by carving the ground to his will. Alyssa provided aid by the power of God, protecting her teammates from harm when necessary.

It wasn't until they had reached the base of the cliff that the arbalesters were perched upon that things went awry. A force of cavalry came in against Tia, breaking through the flank before she could react. The rest of the group dove to the side, managing to avoid the trampling chocobos, but were somewhat separated in the desperate avoidance. Daryn's eyes went from one member of his team to the next, taking accountability, and it was immediately obvious that one of them was missing: Alyssa.

Daryn was not the only one to notice. He heard Rikk swear and the divine swordsman immediately began to give chase to the chocobos, who were heading towards the nearby woods. Daryn's thought process stopped suddenly, as his recounting of the events caused a sudden realization. The cloaks worn by the knights… they bore the crest of House Beoulve. His mind silently cursed as more of the events fell into place, and then continued, without his permission, through the dramatization unfolding in his mind's eye.

Their force broken, Daryn had ordered the remainder of the group to give chase as well, knowing that all the pieces were necessary to complete their mission. He shared Rikk's anger, truly he did, but they still had a mission to complete, and those arbalesters were wreaking havoc on the forces of the Hokuten. Cursing the holy knight, he mounted onto Nyran, using her speed to catch up to Rikk. "Rikk! We need you back! We have a mission!" His order was met with silence as Rikk continued his pursuit after the quickly diminishing figures of the chocobo knights.

Realizing that the only viable solution was to retrieve Alyssa, Daryn spurred Nyran on to a quicker pace, but the red chocobo could not match the pace of the faster yellows. Slowing the bird for fear of injuring her, he moved at a more moderate pace, allowing his allies to quickly catch up with him. As their small force moved into the woodland, he dismounted, and the group crept cautiously along, in search of the missing priestess.

His mind balked now, not wishing to go through the site of his mutilated father or those that he had come to respect, but this time he forced his thoughts onward, and the painful scene once again played through his thoughts, as it had already done a dozen times this night. The Beoulve was creative, and appeared to enjoy the games he had played with the nobles that he had somehow managed to disarm and bind.

There was Dycedarg, standing in a clearing amidst a copse of evergreens. Daryn's father was laid out, his throat slit. Pieces of flesh had been carved from his muscle, the white sinew shining wetly in the midday light. A long gash split his stomach, his intestines still connected but laying against the ground. Blood oozed from the wounds, staining the ground under his corpse.

Tristan's older brother was a sick sight. Jagged bones split through skin in many parts of his body, and all of his limbs were in awkward angles. The cracked bone and ligament throughout his body was evident and obviously painful. His chest had been carved open, and pieces of rib stuck out at odd angles. His eyes had been gouged out, and grey and pink matter seeped from the empty sockets.

Nearby was Tia's twin sister, and this site was probably the worst that was witnessed by the party. Her wrists and ankles had been pinned into the hard clay of the earth with thick iron nails. Her legs were splayed open, and her clothes were in tatters. Drying semen stained her inner thighs, a sure sign of the vicious attack that had come upon her. One nipple had been sliced off, a jagged line showing that it had not been done quickly or by a sharp blade. Her sex had been violated not only by a phallus, but also by something sharp, as the tears and blood seeping from between her legs displayed. Her stomach was cut open, and the apparent cause of death was blood loss from her vagina and abdomen, as no other vital areas appeared to be harmed. Hers was the only blood that had coagulated, showing that she was the first to die. The others had probably been witness to the torture itself.

Alyssa appeared to be unharmed. Perhaps she had succumbed to fright and mercifully passed out. She was, however, bound, and it appeared that she would have been Dycedarg's next victim had the following events not transpired.

The initial shock of experiencing the horror of the scene caused Daryn and his troupe to pause in revulsion, just as Dycedarg plunged the dagger into Rikk's and Alyssa's father's chest. His death had been the most merciful, perhaps indicating that Dycedarg himself had not committed the atrocious acts. Thick nails had been plunged into non-vital areas, but he had obviously not gone through the pain that the others had been forced to endure, and his death was rather quick as the life faded from his eyes.

Witness to the event, Rikk's stunned trance broke, and he roared in anger, clenching his blade as he began to rush towards the traitor. This predictable action was impeded, however, by the large boulder that slammed into the ground not fifty paces from the scene. Dazed by the attack, Daryn was motionless for several seconds. When he regained his senses, Dycedarg had vanished, leaving only the squad with their murdered family members.

Much of the rest of the day was a blur. The group collected Alyssa and moved away from the horrible scene; Daryn returned alone to bury their lost loved ones. The shadows in the eyes of his comrades showed that they wished not to speak of anything, and none responded to Daryn's inquiry of how to handle the situation with Alyssa. His burden deepened and grew, pressing on his shoulders with each passing moment as he battled his own horror.

He had managed to compose himself when Alyssa awoke. The last thing she had remembered was the strike from the cavalry, and being lifted off of the ground. Blackness, thankfully, had enveloped her then. Daryn kept a strong face as he told her that her father had fallen in battle, and that the group was going to recoup before following after the main force. He informed her that they had won, and the enemy was routed. There was no mention of Dycedarg.

And now Daryn was left with more questions, and more decisions. He could not relieve his mantle onto one of his friends. Such would have been cowardly and unfair. They looked to him to lead, and lead he would. For the first time, however, he questioned this. Could he lead? Could he be the pillar of strength that they needed him to be in these trying times?

The decisions he would have to make in the near future troubled him more, perhaps, than his question of leadership. Where would they go? The Beoulves were a powerful house, and these five orphans' claims would fall on deaf ears were they to slander the glorious name. Yet, returning to the army would prove dangerous, and he would endanger every life in his command. He was torn between duty and friendship. In his brief term as a commander, Daryn was faced with the hardest decision he would possibly ever have to make.

His unblinking eyes finally closed, welcoming the blissful darkness behind the lids. He did not sleep. Daryn merely fought through his issues, one at a time. He lost every battle. Come morning, he would have to tell the group where to go. Would they return to the assembled force ahead, as was their duty? His honor demanded it. Would they flee, and become refugees? His heart demanded that. Torn between mind and spirit, his brain ached as it mulled over what was to happen to him and his friends.

As dawn broke the horizon, Alyssa stirred, awakening, and the others began to move, abandoning their own thoughts and breaking camp in a practiced routine. Daryn had less than an hour before he would be called upon to determine their fates, the rest of their lives. Were they to be deserters or dead? Would there be a difference? Perhaps running was only delaying the inevitable. In under an hour, Daryn would decide the fate of all who surrounded him: his darling mount, raised from a chick under his tender care; his closest friend, a knight that had the power of God behind his wrath in battle; a child, barely into his teens and still truly untested to the world; one he viewed as a sister, a constant companion through troubling times; and a sweet, innocent girl, the only one not eternally scarred from the horrible visions that would haunt the rest of them throughout the end of their days.

The mantle of leadership bore down on Daryn. He could feel his knees giving, his back breaking. Could he command his friends to take any of the possible routes? Could he command them to abandon their posts, or to walk to their deaths like sheep to the slaughter? No matter what his choice was, it seemed that it would end badly for his party. He could only choose one, and their fates would all be sealed to it. He strained under his burden, his mantle. And yet, the decision was his. Such was the place of a leader.