Chapter Thirteen
It was late. The sodden night air swept gently passed the under-lit coals of a dying fire. Crickets sang their lust filled songs from the laden grass, and the silvery moon stole herself away between great billowing clouds. The woods brought a heady, deep smell to the forefront, its thick sweetness both lush and green. The scent of early spring flowers filtered through the clearing, accented by the rustle of leaves. Beside the fire, hounds lay dreaming of the hunt, their sleep fuddled yawns muffled only by the shifting of great paws on damp earth.
The man eased himself back against the scratchy wood of an ancient oak, eyes just beginning to dim against the oncoming moonrise. The weary weight of travel and concern drifted down from his shoulders in the fold of a great black cloak. The hazy light of the moon and sparkling dew left a strange impression in the back of his mind. It was as if the Goddess herself was reflecting back a million times over through the tiny, unperceivable droplets. Though not by nature a religious sort of man, it did stir within him a sense of peace. The night's matronly arms had always held sway of him, and the full, bright orb above shimmered and glowed within the sparse clouds.
Darkness settled quietly about the slumbering prince, the night crept onward toward dawn. The pale Being flew high above in the heavens, marking her nightly journey across the sky in blazing grandeur. Onward, he slept, even as, for the first time beneath her light alone, the great Goddess looked down to where he lay. Her glory shone round about him, teasing the backs of his eyes as he dreamed. Warmth and quiet reflection surrounded his sleeping thoughts, yet the eyes of his gentle intruder were the cause of his awakening from slumber.
The first view of her was pale majesty. Her skin was as glowing and fair, as radiant as the moon shining down from above. Glittering silver hair fell in great torrents, spilling around him as waves of pure light. Her slight frame bent gently over his sleeping form, a shift of cloudy white clung against her perfect form. Her eyes were twin pools of clear atmospheric blue, open wide in surprise and wonder.
The gentle throbbing of his heart reverberated the quiet astonishment between them. Softly, very softly, the echo of her heart began to throb as well. Not in time, for there was no common beat between gods and man. For a bare moment, all of eternity fit perfectly within the shared thrum; in the echo which boomed throughout the corridor of time. The sudden shockwave tore through the woven tapestry of fate, shriveled the eon-long stretch of the God's rule to nothingness.
Somewhere, far more distant than the stars above, the ripple of motion reached it's peak high, high in the heavens.
And snapped.
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….
Mamoru pulled away from the rose carefully, fingering a soft white petal in his hand. Whatever urge had possessed him to kiss the silly flower was gone, and yet the action had helped. He had woken from a nightmare not long ago, had retreated from the distant sounds of battle into the living room. It was his one refuge from the dreams, from the insistent and increasingly demanding Moon Princess who haunted his days.
The sudden apparition of these dreams fell like a guillotine. It had been months since the last had woken him, shivering and lost in the strange surroundings of his own room. The memory of that night had been a constant threat that never manifested in the flesh. The respite had been needed. It was these few moments in which the constant fight could settle slowly into the back of his mind, the desperation would still long enough to breathe again.
Until now.
The rose had been dim. The sudden onset of panic had erupted instantaneously within his chest long before he could have rationalized the sudden change. Instead, he had all but run across the room from the hallway, had reached for the flower. He had sworn never to touch it again for fear the rose would wither or yellow.
It had trembled in his hand. Trembled.
One soft petal creased between thumb and forefinger as he stared at the rose in awe. The eternal bud…was wilting… Already, the blooming head dipped just slightly in response to the weight. The single petal in his hand could easily have been blood -at least, his muddled, sleeping brain had twisted the image so. He gulped, fearfully placing the petal carefully within the base of water. Four months, and the flower had done nothing but blossom, and writhe it's rooted fingers around the glass vase in happy abandon.
"Moon…"
The subtle threads of worry and longing began to writhe deep into his chest. A few of the spiked leaves had begun to curl downward. Concerned, tired eyes stared at the white petal listlessly, too exhausted to follow the logical pattern. If he could guess nothing more from the strange behavior of his once happy gift; it was that she was in trouble.
With grim determination, perhaps even a hint of fear, he turned toward the outside world, trusting his gut to lead him to her. The sodden night air swallowed him whole, and trailed curious paws along the open doorway.
The imperceptible plod of a fallen white petal mussed the edges of the abandoned domicile.
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….
The misted world hung heavily across her shielded eyes. The dark shroud of night hung with the stalking care of a wraith poised to strike. She gulped in a heavy breath, steadying the heady thrumming of her heart as it surged through her chest and forehead with wild abandon. The murky outline of trees and broken foliage lined the horizon on all sides, coupling with the solid mist to make the scene impassable. The heavy tug of thick fabric clung to the whispering fingers of dead trees beneath her feet.
The stench of death was heady, filling the rotting landscape with dread and fear. She gagged as it clung to the inside of her throat possessively, burned at her eyes and touched its ghostlike fingers to the exposed skin of her shoulders. A dry sob wracked the ribcage from within, and the sound of her strangled voice startled even her at its hoarseness.
There, beneath the tangled web of broken limbs and fallen stone, the eyes stared out at her. Their wide, terrified depths broke her skin in cold, writhing flesh, and filled the very bowels of her being with horror. She cried out, both afraid to make the sound and yet unable to muffle it through the sickening sense of guilt and shame.
The eyes stared at her openly, mockingly; their accusing, somber gaze seemed to scream in rage and betrayal even as the ghostly hands gripped at her shivering flesh from all sides. The tearing of her skin burned and seared as the fingers tore deep into flesh and bone, her pain-filled screech seemed distant; too distant to be burning from deep within her chest as it was. The eyes filled her vision, blood red and burning with vengeance and hatred as the hands tore her limbs from her body.
Deep crimson spilled in great rivulets from her chest, directly from the source of her anguished cry. As cold, terrified blue eyes turned downward, they met with her restored fist, and a great black sword buried to the hilt in her ribs. Her scream was nothing but a gurgle of bright, fountaining pain that dripped down her chin and chest, mingling with the already inhumanly bright mess down her front. The pale fist blushed as the liquid drained slowly from her body, leaving nothing behind but the husk of her lifeless corpse, wrapped in the tatters of blue and white, and the dark, dark river of red.
"Sh, it's alright,"
The strange voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once, sending a jolt through the motionless limbs splayed around her. She tried to gulp, to swallow, to breathe. Instead, she stared across the dead silvery ground that pressed deep into her skull like the executioners block, and waited.
"It's alright." The voice repeated itself over and over, the echoes going on for miles as her spinning; empty mind forced the words in and out again. The subtle, steady sound of distant footsteps was barely audible above the whispering, hateful wind. The dead ground burned cold into her face and body, the weight of the sword held her captive to the earth, though she fought with all her strength to move. All the while, the steady thrum drew closer and closer to her resting place.
The first touch to her shoulder was a firm strike of lightning on a solid tree. A deep breath rushed into her punctured lungs, forcing the blood out of their drowned innards. She tried to cry out, but there was no strength. The fear paralyzed her already dead flesh and pinned her very soul to the dirt below. The powerful, lightning filled hands lifted her doll-like body from the ground just enough to turn the world downward again.
She gulped, feeling the air sizzle in her lungs and open wound with fiery indignation. The hands smoothed strands of hair from her face and chin, held her close enough to push the pain to the back of her mind. She breathed again, easier now. The retreating agony howled somewhere far distant. The air didn't burn, nor did the weight of the blade tear at her so deeply.
"It will be alright."
Warm lips pressed to the gentle crook of her brow and nose, soft and reassuring. Groggily, she tried to pull her eyes apart long enough to see who her would-be assailant was. The soft kiss was familiar, and sweet, and kind. The sensation of an age-old gesture returning from the ashes seemed to break the hold of slumber.
The second kiss fell against her cheek as she groaned heavily, fighting with the soft weight of fabric and sleep and the lingering taste of fear somewhere in the back of her throat. She groaned, more from exhaustion than anything, and turned. The surprising lack of constraint on her arms and legs was enough to send both blue eyes flying open and into darkness.
A figure barely made of shadow and night hovered close enough to share breath before the strangely familiar weight of lips pressed to hers. Panicked, slightly confused and fairly sure she was still dreaming somehow, Usagi instantly seemed to lose all power over her body and simply allowed the stranger to do as he would.
Reality lay suspended in the midnight air for a moment, her gentle captor pulling the groggy thoughts steadily downward till she was almost sure it was all a dream. The kiss was not wild or passionate or hungered, as she would have expected from Mamoru; but held a gentle pleading, and a deep sort of gracious longing that the other seemed to lack. There was a deep attraction, and a languishing for much more, but it was content and quiet lodged somewhere in the back of her mind.
The soft kiss ended, the sudden loss of pressure at her neck informing her that it had been there at all as the shadow faded instantly into the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. She gulped, slowly needling herself to a sitting position on the bed.
The room was still. Luna's pitch black body was a lump of softly breathing darkness beside her bed and the shadowed moon filtered in through window, branch, and cloud. The shifting covers whispered in the darkness as tiny white feet touched the soft ground and padded toward the open air. Mid spring flowers bloomed, filling the night with their soft scent, and the mist of the nearby ocean filled the late night with ethereal haze. She gulped, pressing her hand to the window frame and searching the darkness for any sign of an intruder.
"En…."
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….
The stark, late afternoon sun burned through dingy windows with hellfire. Legions of dusty stacks stood at attention on all sides. Bloody afternoon light fumed red through the haze of freakish crimson coated clouds. Even now, it brought with it the phantom-like screams from the dark corners of his sleepless mind. The somber smoking of indigo eyes smoldered through the gore of the dying sun and into a darkened corner. A film of rancid metallic coating itched the inside of his mouth.
It stung. A sleepless night rampaging through the darkened streets of Tokyo could not erase the screams. His dream last night had been anything but a battle, yet the aftertaste was like licking a wound. Though the patrol had given him ample opportunity to vent on a few of society's less desirables, it did not and could not explain the sudden loss of vivacity. He could not tear the image of that one fallen petal crushed between thumb and forefinger in horrified shock.
The hot brand of irritation sizzled in a forge of aching futility. He had searched for her for hours, grasping in vain at the familiar tug that would not come. It was the one thing that would beckon him to her side like a magnet to true north –impassible, immoveable, and utterly unreachable.
He shifted, wiping the exhaustion from his aching eyes with stiff, stubborn fingers. The rose was dying slowly, and the beastly story was playing over and over in the back of his mind. He had heard somewhere that fairy tales –the old ones anyway, were powerful. Their time-tested tellings were roadmaps into the unknown; significant in any age because of their complexity. He couldn't help but wonder if the sudden stress of his gift was the beginning of the end for them.
They hadn't seen each other since Valentines. It had been months, now, and finals were closing in. He should have prepared more for them, but as with last semester school had been a side thought to the real issue. She had been so sad. As much as he would love to admit that last night's escapades were the first of their kind, it would be a lie. His feet had stalked the city streets in the murky hours between sunlight like an apparition, searching for trouble in the hopes of seeing her.
It had done wonders for his image as the mysterious half-ally of the Senshi, and yet had given little in anything else. Motoki had urged him to do kind things for others in the hopes that it would help hone those humane instincts within him. Every back alley rescue made him feel like a bad comic book remake, and none of it inspired the same softness that Moon did. Besides, at least as the hero, he didn't have to worry about girls chasing after him anymore.
He sighed, rubbing at his weary face and shifted in the hard, uncomfortable seat. The Crown's backroom was dingy and dark, and loaded to the brim with dusty boxes, which did little favors for his watery, irritated eyes. Though he sat alone amidst the faceless crates, the scarlet light and hazy vision was still echoing with dark screams of terror and pain. It was driving him slowly mad.
Finally, the endless white sheets bubbled across the table before him like a death tome. There were so many of them to review, and Motoki should be getting off his shift soon. After having sat back here for an hour, he still had not bothered to touch even one of their simpering words. He had meant to pull himself together, take some time to drown out the other thoughts raging within the confines of his skull enough to function as a human man again. It hadn't worked.
He reached forward, spreading the papers out dealer-style across the table in thoughtless abandon. One slid easily into his hand, a claptrap of musings and irritating grammar mistakes. The flood of exasperation swelled with every line; so much that the thoughts themselves became a laundry list of problems. The paper was set aside with a smoldering red grade etched at the top. He reached for another, noting quickly that the solid, foundational ideas of the class were completely lost in a rainfall of pointless chatter. How these students could make it through a regular high school class was beyond him.
Sizzling anger thrust another paper into his lap, only to add to the growing heat. Every student must be completely incapable of using a spellchecker. He didn't even bother grading it. Rather, his eye caught the one sheet handwritten on lined paper, and the rage boiled to the surface. He squashed the emotionally packed memories of that girl in his apartment, the hurricane-like frustration and fear and hate that had riddled him afterwards. Rather than dwell on any of those things, he felt his whole body clenching in frustration.
The paper was coated in orange cheese powder, grease, and soda. It was like she hadn't even bothered to write it at home! If anything, the stupid girl had gone to the arcade with her friends, remembered at the last minute it was due, and wrote it on her napkin. Which happened to be lined paper. He glared accusingly at the cheese stains as if the demons of hell lay in their orange, powdered souls.
If there was one thing Mamoru could not stand, it was people eating in class. Secondly, it was people sleeping in class, and thirdly, people reading material other than the assigned. Odango Atama seemed to be the grandmaster of all three annoying habits, and despite all efforts against them, continued to be. It was grating, and angering, and finally, completely hopeless. He'd made her stand in the hall, he'd made her clean extra after class, and made her the librarian, and made her take attendance, and a million other things. The girl simply refused to do what was needed!
"Why won't she just stop eating in class!?" He exploded as the backroom door slid open. Motoki paused in curiosity at the outburst, eyeing the table in confusion before settling himself into a seat. The blond man shrugged, flipping a page over as he did so. The rustle in the quiet was a stark contrast to the irrational outburst. Motoki could only shake his head in wonder. Mamoru was becoming more human everyday –even down to the anger issues.
"Maybe because she's burning ridiculous amounts of calories every day. And she's got blood sugar problems, Mamoru." With casual precision, the white knight broke through the rage with a surgeon's touch, and snagged the one piece of dying softness.
"Does she?" Mamoru blinked, not quite sure he'd heard correctly. The girl did run everywhere she went, this was true. He never knew she had health problems, though, she was just a kid.
"Yeah. That's why you ended up carrying her to the Crown last fall." The pompous fury that had lit within his friend's chest snuffed out, quickly deflating back to what Motoki could only guess was indifference. That face was so trained to be a cool, lifeless mask that it simply reverted without any effort on Mamoru's part.
"…oh." Downtrodden, maybe even a little bashful, the man cleared his throat and tried to force his way back to irritation. The sudden deflation of all of his anger left him winded and confused, and nowhere he thought he'd be when discussing the strange girl. "Well, I guess I can't begrudge her that. But why sleep in class and read manga? That's just as annoying."
"She runs everywhere. All that energy has to give in at some point. The manga, however, is really inexcusable. I'll talk to her about it." The red pencil flicked and spun in Motoki's hand as he spoke, but his eyes were glued to the page before him. The man simmered quietly to himself, grasping for any reason to be angry still. The sudden appearance of his friend had washed the bloody landscape from his mind, leaving only the soft buzzing of a light from above, and the steady stacks of boxes all around them. Outside, hazy twilight filled the windows with grey softness. He sighed finally, allowing the frustration slip and drain through his aching legs into the uncaring ground.
Moon still haunted him, but the urgency had dissipated with the dying sun. He felt leaden. As much as he wanted desperately to find the Senshi, it would be no use until the next battle. He had known as much before, but there had been no escaping the instantaneous and overpowering need to do anything rather than wait. Exhaustion was slipping in beneath the sudden void of rage. Rather than admit defeat, he promptly shoved the mess aside and reached for the first driveling paper.
It didn't take long for the author to fade from his mind again. The essay itself was probably better than several others in the stack, but even that couldn't tear his mind away. He slid a bright red comma between a few words, knowing even as he did that the line would work without one. If only the Senshi could be called out right now, and save him from the madness looming on the horizon.
"What are you working on?" he asked finally, ready for any distraction. Motoki paused mid bite.
"One of her papers, actually. It's got some grammar issues, but the ideas are really good." Another fry slid into his mouth and the world was silent again.
"Oh? Any of them on the merits of Sailor V?" Mamoru tried to keep the irony from his voice as he considered the possibility of Odango saying anything worthwhile. Motoki glances up briefly without amusement.
"No."
Even the subtle din of traffic seemed hushed. It was so quiet without the attacks, the Senshi to fill the world with sound. Even the bloodlit sun spoke of battles to come, of screams, of horror. It was silent, yet the promise hung in the air now. The promise of war, of revenge. And through it all, the vision of golden sunlit hair.
"Have you talked to her yet?" Motoki ventured. It was a reminder of the present, of the pile of papers and fries and thoughts and expectations. His skull began to ache.
"Yes. She's terrified of me."
"Give her some time. Through her eyes, you should have found her already and the longer you take, the more she thinks you hate her too. Just get to know her, then look for that same person here." Motoki's concerned eyes stared through him, leaden with meaning. It had crossed Mamoru's mind several times that his friend might know the real identity of his obsession. Was it reading between the lines to ask a simple question in response?
"But we're in the arcade."
"You know what I meant, Mamoru. Don't dodge the subject." It was no use, the blonde's reaction was hardly distinctive. He rolled his eyes skyward and shook his head negatively before returning to the paper before him.
Shrugging, the darker man returned himself, flicking a pen between thumb and forefinger in hopeless loss. It was no use trying to pump his friend for answers about her. Either he knew everything and felt obliged to protect her, which bothered him to no end, or he was simply offering generic advice.
A concussive sound boomed low enough to rattle pavement, and sent cups and plates flying into the already rocking ground. A thrill of panic shot through his mind as he fought to gain his balance again. The ground was shifting, walls were beginning to crumble at the seams, and the shattered glass tinkled across the floor threateningly. Motoki hollered in frustration as he slipped and fell, and Mamoru could hear the crunch of glass under his weight.
The second boom hit closer, so quickly in sequence it almost felt like afterschock. The bare moment of silence between them was spent trying to figure out if the earth had shifted or been attacked. Dark blue eyes fled to the streets in concern, noting that several car crashes had appeared, and people littered the broken ground. Shit, he'd have to move fast, and Motoki was probably injured.
"Oi! You alright?" he called, shifting his eyes through the instant haze broken ceiling had created. The room was in tatters, many of the booths had been crushed, or coated in broken glass from the shattered window. He gingerly stepped around a fizzing light fixture, intent to find his friend among the rubble.
"Hai! Oh crap-nuggets," the shuddering blond head lifted, and with it a sheet of dust fell hazily to the floor.
"What's going on?" Mamoru asked, lifting a heavy beam out off the table with apparent ease. In a moment of realization, he was grateful the other man knew. Otherwise this situation would have been more complicated. Not that it would have stopped him from helping, but it would have proven a good waste of time in the explanations department.
"I smashed my new glass! Not that it matters. What are you still doing here?"
"What?" He blinked in confusion, staring at the rubble where the arcade used to stand. The familiar walls lay in heaps of broken drywall and shattered picture frames on all sides. The separating wall from storage and arcade had fallen in, but thankfully no one seemed to have noticed the feat in all the confusion. Within moments the rush of her transformation shrieked within his ribcage. The echoing howl between his skull was enough to drive him to his knees. Visions of fluttering white burned against retina and skin and bone, setting his teeth on edge as everything swam in red.
"Hello! Earth to Mamoru! Problem!" It was several moments later when he realized Motoki had been screaming at him from across the fractures remains of the small backroom, bringing the flurry of images to a screeching halt. The manager's face was set in a furious scowl, part horror, part worry. Mamoru gulped, unsure exactly what had happened moments before, but there were no words to explain all the things burning through his veins.
"Just…making sure you're ok." Motoki started. The words caught somehow between his ribs, lodging a subtle fear within his chest. There was no time to argue, no time to think about how to answer his friend. Moon was out there, and shit was about to hit the proverbial fan.
He didn't bother to try and find a place to change, simply pulled the chaotic shadows from the ground below. Rubble fell away in heaps as he leapt from the scene, forcing his hands into the broken chunks of brick and cement, and hefting himself up onto the unsteady rooftop beside him. The shrill cry of those caught below still haunted the dying sunlit air.
The scene stretched across the broken street like a grizzly Hollywood war movie. He breathed once, surveying the bodies that clumped across the ground in ruddy patched. The ominous crack of Jupiter's lightning sizzled the air was light for a bare moment, bringing his eyes up from the carnage. There, further up the street, a sudden streak of deep green flitted past his eyes, signaling another round of heavenly retribution to burst the clouds overhead.
He glanced back, viewing the upheaval of cement that would block EMT vehicles, and took aim. The Senshi could handle a Youma for another minute while he did what he could for those left alive. Ripping a smart phone from the ground, he hit the panic button and turned to release hell on the barrier. The blocks burst outward and into the open store fronts and alleys.
It wasn't much, but the small sense of satisfaction was cut short as the ground beneath him began to shiver. The aftermath of Mars' fire was still rampaging along the ground as the Youma slithered behind a large SUV 400 yards away. Rather than bother with Mars; who, he would add, was quiet evenly matched and would probably win anyway, he continued on.
The ruptured street told a violent, inhuman story as he raced passed scorch marks and large divots dug out of the cement. The fight had moved further and further down, and had gotten more and more violent as it went. Rough and shattered ground gave way to flaming cars and fallen street lamps. Somewhere far above the carnage, the squeaking voice of Mercury was pitching orders into the fray before a blanket of fog smothered sight and sound completely.
He slid into an alley once he thought the Youma was within throwing distance. The Dark Kingdom had never done this much damage to the city before, and he was sure the victims hadn't been as mutilated as those people had. His mind was caught between formulating a plan, and hoping what he'd done would be enough to help at least a few.
"Oh, a little mist? Yes, I'm so afraid of the dark…" the voice was thin and malicious, and echoed through the unforgiving fog on specter's paws. He strained to see through the mess, sliding his cane free. The speaker was close. The familiar timbre was almost hallucinogenic, and brought to mind a sudden vision of white pillars.
He threw the image with a violent shake of his head. Rather than dwell on the oddball thought, the cane was gripped close with trained precision as he waited for the ponderous footsteps. The haze made it difficult to gauge the uniform sound, especially as a fireball ignited the air to sizzling not far ahead. Still, he waited, carefully controlling each breath. His only attack needed a clear target, and if there was some way to knock the general off his feet…
He sprang, brandishing the weapon as if it were an age old sword, and met the calm steady hand of his enemy. A sudden burst of wind cleared the scene and drenched the surprising twist in reality. Silver-gray eyes hardened to stoic flint, glaring halfheartedly for a moment before the wind stole with it the fluttering white of his mask.
"You."
The ominous word whipped harshly through the street, taking with it any sense of certainty he had left. That solid, lifeless gaze froze from the inside. A heady sense of déjà vu shuddered between his shoulder blades and drained the blood from his face. He knew this man, this new general. The icy thrust of death swam in foggy tendrils through his chest.
"The princess! Moon, go!" Mars screamed, just enough to break the locked gaze and sent both pairs of eyes flying up the street. The golden-haired warrior was bounding toward Zoicite with her crescent wand trailing in one arm. The fireball erupted just beneath her feet as she cleared a rooftop and charged toward the dark kingdom General in wild abandon. Kamen felt himself smile; infinitely proud of her fearless demeanor.
"No, you don't." The white-haired man murmured, turning to race after her. A single white glove was lost in the mane of hair momentarily, before a quick smash left the bleeding general a pile at his feet. Kamen took a bare moment to wipe at a splash of blackened blood on the side of the building before taking off down the street.
He dodged beneath a bolt of shimmering electricity, leapt over a fireball and burst through the smoke just long enough to watch Moon trip over a pigtail and go down. Zoicite's laugh barked across the battlefield, bringing with it the sting of a thousand razored petals. The dark savior dove for the struggling girl, quickly covering her form with his cloak. The petals swirled around them momentarily, attacking again and again the black shroud without effect. He grimaced within the soft haven, catching her eye just enough to wink.
"We've got to stop meeting like this."
"Didn't you say that over Halloween?" She commented, lost for a moment.
"Right. How…did you remember that?"
"Uh…"
He laughed, loving how the freckled tops of her cheeks glowed red in the twilight. The forced onslaught stilled moments later, effectively ending any chance for conversation. After so much time spent fighting together, it was a quiet look that passed between them before the wall of red fell.
The dying sunlight burst inward, highlighted by a dazzling explosion next to the general's foot. Moon leapt, her tiara held burning in her left hand as she dove for her enemy's chest. The effeminate man stepped back, gasping in shock as the Senshi dove expertly toward him before lifting his arms in defense. A shard of livid green ripped across his hands moments later, tacked down by a blushing red flower. The angered howl was cut short as Moon descended in a deadly arc.
The clash of shrieking metal ripped through the falling night sky. The ghostly general's blade cracked against the spinning disk, sending shards of burning light skittering through the air. To see the phantom general so soon after their last encounter left a cool chill in the flat of Kamen's back. Added with the vision of Moon fighting him alone, it was too much to consider.
Moon spun to whip a kick into her enemy's face. The general dodged, catching the back of her knee in a quick swipe and twisting. The girl fell in a heap at his feet. Kamen was already moving, the cane whipping though the air to smack against the animate corpse with a hollow thud.
Without another thought, he leapt forward, brandishing the cane as neatly as a blade to pry the dark General from her side. Kunzite –he didn't know where the name had come from- fought back with only one hand. The billowing grey and white cape masked his movements, and the specter distracted Kamen from landing any damaging blows to his opponent.
The gloved hand smashed into Kamens face, sent him headlong through the air to crunch against the side of the building. Agony scorched along his side and skull as the heap tumbled altogether against solid stone. The battle must have raged on without him for some time. A cocaphone of musical blasts and grunts filled his spinning ears as the world tilted back into focus.
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…
The warrior watched in mute satisfaction as the shadowed hero fell. Wind swept a sudden rush of gold across the scene, hiding the frantic movements of the Senshi below. The only sight to be focused on filled the sentinel with pride and admiration, a glowing report that even words could not express. Her matching pigtails swung outward as the glowing discus burned a wicked arc through the falling night. Her opponent barely dodged the attack, and not without some small help from the taller general.
As opposed as she had been in the beginning to follow through with her advisor's plan, Artemis had been the wiser of them. Moon's form was almost perfect. There was no indication from his feline counterpart on what had changed her from the carefree child she had been. A part of Venus was troubled greatly at the change. Her charge should never have had to be inflicted with this fight. It was unnatural and disturbing, and strangely fitting. Perhaps if She had been forced to raise her hands in defense, the past would not have…
Moon's scream ruptured the thought as Zoicite and Kunzite descended in unison. With the tiara knocked free from her hands, and the shining girl cornered on the rooftop, Venus had little time to reconsider her actions.
"Stop!" She cried, pulling on her ancient powers to draw a golden glow from within. The false tattoo blazed eerily just beyond her vision. The dying sun gasped its last breath from behind her, igniting the already hazy glow to an inferno. The combatants froze mid-movement, blades drawn, and turned to her. It was a small relief, as they were still crouched over Moon's form. "By order of Princess Serenity. You're fight is with me."
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…..
Despite the crushing headache, and the sweet lightshow that followed, Kamen felt himself more worried that hurt. Moon would be defenseless with the other Senshi covering ground below. He shook the resulting dizziness away, and was rewarded with her terrified screech. His eyes still wouldn't focus, but the menacing shadows loomed across the broken rooftop. A curse died in his throat as a shining force lit the darkened world, and with it drove the silence away.
The glowing woman was standing at rigid attention on the rooftop, her clear voice ringing through the battlefield. It was his first good look at the one who had devastated his sleeping schedule for months now, and the sight was strangely otherworldly. The long golden tresses shimmered and burned, yes, but her face was not what he would have expected from millennia-old nobility. If anything, she had the look and style of a 50's Hollywood actress with her blood red lips and sassy pose.
Disgust filtered through his being in every fiber, leaving a rancid taste in the back of his mouth. All those nightmares, all those sleepless nights for just another ridiculous... He could have puked. Of all the kinds of women she could have possibly been, and of all the times he could have possibly run into her. Well, the one consolation to be had was the fact that she pretended to be a Senshi. Whether or not that made her worthy of the title was left to be discovered.
It took Kunzite no more than 30 seconds to latch his cold, bleeding hands around her throat from behind, and rip the girl down from her post. She fell without another sound, just as easily as she'd ascended before. It may as well have been her death sentence, for all the emotion it inspired in him. Rather than waste his time trying to make sense of the apathy, he lunged forward.
"Princess!" Mars screamed from the ground, nursing her wounded shoulder in one hand. The charcoal black mass of her hair pooled on the ground beside her, covering the flaming red skirt in a play of color. He gulped, shaking his head at the sight. The euphoria burned his brain with fever. Moon was still fighting, her burning tiara flashing in one hand while Zoicite parried with a crystal blade. Jupiter boomed in the effort of summoning the crackling power from above, her movements as slow and laborious as his pain-filled eyes could follow.
There, above it all hung the glowing figure of a woman dressed in white and gold. Her hair flapped in the breeze and shimmered with inner light. Blazing from her forehead lay the birthmark of the ancient Goddess' lineage, the golden white aura of the Elders themselves. Behind her glory-streaming body stood the last Dark Kingdom general, the blatant mortality of his figure standing like a pale shadow in comparison to the shining apparition.
Tuxedo Kamen waited for the familiar rush of images to surge to the forefront of his mind, carrying with them the icy cold fingers of the other world. They never came. The beautiful woman clothed in light looked every inch a Goddess, and yet there was something itching in the back of his mind.
The general cackled in glee as the ground beneath them began to shimmer and fade. The recently freed Senshi squealed momentarily, losing their footing as the rooftop gave way to shuddering blackness. The low whine of shearing metal ruptured hacked into the darkening night air, tearing reality quickly from it's hinges.
"You want your precious princess? Come get her." He growled, whipping her frail body downward into the yawning depths below. The ground howled a warning upward, not to be daunted by the entrance of the Senshi into the Dark Kingdom. Mars was the first to leap headfirst into the pit, the raven black hair trailing after her. Kamen hardly wasted time, watching the others follow suite immediately after the fire guardian.
The darkness led infinitely downward in jagged, cutting lines. The Senshi were running hard, obviously much more excited for the revelation of their ridiculous princess than he ever could be. It wasn't like her arrival would tell him exactly where this stupid Ginzuisho was; not to mention the fact she'd expect him to get it for her. It was like watching the finale of a tv show he was being forced to watch –only to find out there was a season two.
"Lapsing." He huffed, chasing after the others.
He turned the last bend, watching as the wild explosion of colors lit on multifaceted walls. The sight neatly ripped the vision from his eyes and replaced it with blind, searing pain. The girls were screaming, both in defiance and irritation at the richocette. He would wait till the blurry sparks left his retina, listen for the sound of Moon going down. There was no reason to rush into the fray just yet.
The sharp tearing of a blade struck through the thin fabric of skin and grew through his chest in one slick movement. Fire, ice, crushing weight bore down on him from all sides as an arm gripped his neck and pulled. The frozen blade twisted, sending every nerve in his body raving mad.
"A parting gift, Kamen, with…love." Zoicite murmured somewhere behind him. The words were lost in concussive, grinding torture as the blade ripped suddenly backwards. The arm evaporated, the world suddenly came rushing upward to meet his darkening eyes as the cold sensation of liquid dripped down his chest from a thousand miles away. The sounds of battle faded as all things came to an end.
A chill unlike any other rippled across Sailor Moon's skin with a sudden pop so deep, it could only be the end of all things. She froze mid-movement, her throat suddenly closed. Her head whipped raggedly to one side, just long enough to see the bloody sword finish it's retreat. Tuxedo Kamen sagged limply, giving first at the knees before crashing heavily into the ground.
The sudden thrust of wintery ice crushed against Moon's lungs, broke across her skin in feverish sweat and pin-prickled skin. She dropped instantly, sucking in great gasps of breath against the sudden tearing sensation, the hysterical sense of blood dripping from her gaping chest. She struggled to move, reaching for her front with numb fingers to find the wound, only to realize nothing was there.
"What the hell?" Her confused whisper was lost in the sounds of battle, the newest Senshi's attack, and the general who seemed to be invincible. She glanced around, still struggling to her knees. There, not 15 feet away, lay the rumpled form clothed in shadows. The ground was dark and wet, the pristine white gloves had been stained…stained…
A wail began somewhere far away. It blotted sound from the air, sucked the fire from the earth, suspended broken shards of cave wall to hover uncertainly in the air. The warriors clapped hands to ears in vain, for the sound bore strait to the bone, rattled and hummed within the very sinew of their flesh. The world tilted drunkenly as the scream finally reached the crescendo in a terrible, heart wrenching end. The shear wall of sound reverberated against earth and stone, and sent chunks of rotting ceiling crashing down to the ground.
The slow rumbling began deep in the earth, a perfect counterpoint to the sirenic scream of pain and longing that echoed across millennia. The Senshi fell in domino slow motion as the ground responded to the power suddenly pooling toward the small figure. Magnetic, the light followed as moths to sudden flame, bringing the world to start contrast of utter white and complete blackness.
A tiny sliver of light began building from the pinpoint of her forehead, the shimmering river of tears sparkled diamonds in the white-hot flare that grew till it filled every pore and crevice of the once dark hall. The micro tears of reality began to bend and flare, sending sparks of power billowing through the gloom. Shadow and silver light marbled across the air as the glow steadied.
Zoicite's grey-clad arm lowered momentarily, peering through the blinding light to the shimmering figure hovering in the middle of the room. The flickering outlines of a womanly figure differentiated from the pool as if she were being materialized directly from the powerful radiance. Evanescent silvery hair whipped across the expanse, filling the room momentarily before trailing upward.
Pale feet touched the ground like the setting of a bomb, shattering the ground beneath them before the shining woman came forward. With each step, the heavy whipcrack of broken rock boomed across the shattered remains of their battleground. Her hand rose, crackling blue eyes opened to a ricochet of white hot light springing from her fingers. The blonde general was thrown back, smashing heavily into an already compromised cave wall. The rock crumbled beneath the weight of the blow and tumbled downward to sheath the remaining corpse.
Her tear filled eyes turned to the other general. The weight of her broken, fierce gaze filled the expanse between them with preternatural, leaden promise.
A wicked grin veiled his features and the sword turned resolutely to the preternatural figure. Two heavy steps beat the ground before he froze, a look of carnal rage shifting in his eyes. His angry mutter slithered through the space unheard before he drew his cloak up and soaked deeply into shadow. The Senshi began to shift in awe, slowly regaining their footing as the strange woman turned toward the fallen hero once more.
The faint outline of an ancient dress began somewhere within the powerful glow, hinting across one shoulder to trail long behind her. The pregnant corona of light shifted, settling downward as the luminous being knelt. The blackened void of Kamen's suit collided against brilliant scintillation. The two atmospheres struggled a bare moment, the light of order, and shadows of chaos trapped within one perfect capsule of time.
A single incandescent hand trailed across the soft stubble of his chin to leak down the strong neck. The sudden heart wrenching sob lynched sodden cave air in a hangman's noose; the taste of it was thick and powerful enough to snag in the throat. Palpable tears soaked the air densely as the fingers finally rested above the gaping maw of blood and flesh and torn red cloth.
Endymion…
The words shimmered though air and mind at the same time, not spoken so much as bidden. The figures were engulfed in a silver blaze. The powerful blowback knocked the Senshi across the cavern floor.
The tumultuous burning sensation writhed through his being straight into the core of him. It went on and on, so hot he melted to nothingness beneath the tirade. The endless, falling void filling the world with incandescent white light, battering every particle of him with a buzzing, fiery energy that spread across the nothingness that used to be him. It was like screaming forever, falling into the blazing glory of the sun, rocketing through the atmosphere of the earth like a white comet only to explode against the rocky face in a fury of power and destruction.
The soft administration of lips against his was the first scintillating sensation striking at his core. A soft pressure expanded across his chest all at once before lifting. The gentle pressure of fingers against his chin and face where the whip crack of reality as his brain fizzled to life. Images of a lifetime long past whirred throughout his mind, too quick to catch. It was a black hole of memories laced with pain, longing, love. He fell, deep into the darkness like a stone to a chasm. The steady rumble of power shook the ground beneath him, accented by the billowing silver light from above. He blinked, watching in fascination as the source shimmered in multi-faceted glory before fading again.
"S-Serenity!" he breathed, mouth feeling alien and sluggish. Her shimmering eyes opened, tear ridden and heavy. He couldn't bear the memory of her bright smile against the fearful, sad one that greeted him. Her soft, silver-blue eyes trailed to his chest momentarily, drawing his gaze with them. The solid black plate armor met his eyes, a strange tightness caught at his torso as he breathed once. There, spread across the aristocratic curves of her long fingers, splattered the grim stain of red.
He gulped, drawing a shaky breath and pushing himself upward to grip the elegant curve of her wrist in horror.
"You're hurt…" He began, shifting to his knees quickly. The memories of battle were fresh and bright at the forefront of his mind; that his Goddess should be wounded right beside him was too much… She quieted him, her eyes soft and concerned.
"It's yours, Endymion. I'm alright." As an afterthought, he smoothed one hand across the plate at his chest. Yes, there had been a twinge of pain there, but it was gone now. The shimmering goddess folded easily against him as he quickly scanned the large cavern around them. The last thing he remembered was Kunzite with a disease-ridden black blade hanging from his limp hand.
"The Guardians…" his goddess whispered, lifting her head to peer into the darkness. He turned, ready to reach for his sword should they attack. The four flickering pillars remained motionless, suspended above the broken and rocky ground with their eyes sealed. The vision was both horrifying and mesmerizing. The legendary power of the gods could not be matched by any but an Elder. The four had been chosen by the king of heaven himself to guard his titan niece. A sudden shudder of dread pierced the flesh between his shoulder blades. Statuesque, the figures loomed over them like their death sentence, waiting for a moment to scream for his head.
"How did we get here?" the confused tremor in her voice worried him. Memories were beginning to simmer up from the darkness, images that disturbed and confused him. He stood, the rumbling clack of his boots on stone a solid reminder of his own mortal situation. The goddess all but floated upward, her feet never quite touching the dirty ground.
Endymion took a few cautious steps forward, wary eyes trained for any movement from the glowing child of Venus. Her form shimmered, hands resting lightly on the pommel of a great sword. Any moment, he feared her heated golden eyes would snap open, and the fury of the Gods would consume him. Serenity was still and quiet in his arms, save the flowing of her robes in the unseen wind.
"Interesting choice of leader, don't you think my love?" he whispered finally. It had often bothered him in the past to think of this. Why wasn't the daughter of Zeus himself the leader of their little band? And this particular gathering of powers…he grimaced quietly. How could he have been so blind?
"What do you mean?"
"Love, foresight, wisdom and power. The Gods weren't worried about an attack…they feared us." He paused, following the thought through. "Think Serenity; Zeus' own daughter would have been the perfect commander of an armed guard. Yet this one, her powers almost entirely mimicking her mothers, is chosen. Her second in command is the powers of foresight. He did not trouble himself on the thought of your safety so much as…"
"He feared the love that would signal the end of his rule." A dark voice murmured just barely above the hum of power around them. As one, the couple turned toward the dimly lit recesses and peered uncertainly into the darkness. The subtle shift of cavern and air sizzled a cold fire from the obscurity; the stark flash of silver twinkled unevenly as the figure loomed closer.
The dark, time-burned umber eyes of the final Guardian crackled against the fabric of reality. The deep eternal green of her Senshi attire all but melded against dark cinnamon-bark skin. Eons passed through her care-worn gaze, the weight of it pulling the long wealth of forbidden emerald hair deep into the time gates themselves. Endymion had only met the sovereign of time once, and it was not without an infinite sense of awe. As dark and terrible as her father, her tall frame seemed to dwarf their rocky prison. He refused the sudden shiver clawing between his shoulders, and released his beloved Goddess long enough to bow.
"Lady Setsuna… your attire…" The stunned goddess began, her tone unguarded and perplexed. The visage was familiar, but from a memory far away. The Senshi nodded, the dark garnet of her eyes grave.
"Yes. It has been an age, Serenity. You have been dearly missed." The moon princess nodded, unable to respond to the strange greeting. "And his Highness, Prince Endymion of the Terran Empire. How long we have waited for you." those same stern, unimpassioned eyes turned to her companion. It came with an odd sense of mockery, though Serenity could have sworn on her life that no such sense existed in the woman before them.
"Yes, I'm sure you have. No visit from your father then? I'm disappointed." His tone was just as cool, and far more flippant. His fingers sought her waist, more for the need of her skin than any sense of comfort. She cast eyes on them both, wondering at the odd exchange between the two who had never before met.
"He is passed, so far as his dealings with this world are concerned. It is with me you must now begin the reckoning." The staff echoed against the solid ground beneath her feet, the ominous music ringing through the small cavern to permeate stone.
"Reckoning?" Serenity breathed in confusion, continuing to look from one to the other uncertainly. Her memories were returning now, hazy and distant. The only scene to present itself distinctly was the secret nuptials that had crowned them in the ruins so long ago…and yet… The sudden memory of icy cold through her chest left her breathless, reaching upward to gingerly test her skin in abject horror. Though the flesh remained unbroken, the scabbed memory of a blade ghosted through nailed her to the ground. There was love and passion, but also visions of blood, of screaming kin and the death cry of her Senshi guardians. The recollections were vivid splashes of color on canvas. So dark, so horrifying were these that even the shadowed cavern and all it's occupants drifted away.
The world she had known was gone. All the beautiful silver fountains, the lush glades of rolling silver wheat, the soft and weightless air of her home where she had been loved and cared for. Maybe in looking back, her thoughts were broken then. How she longed for the soft and sweet gaze of her young mother, the quiet babble of elegant birds in the sea. That she would never again hear the call of one so loved and missed, or view the splendor that once thrived in her home brought a heartache so tangible it was all she could do not to cry out in despair.
Now, the silver pillars were splashed in blood, the cry of a child cut short within a menacing cackle. The burning, hellfire eyes of her enemy had been shadowed by a power far more sinister than she had ever seen. Snake-like, the woman had slithered closer, hissed her greeting. The memory of her scaly, crimson spattered skin froze the very blood within her, and sent the flash of past hurtling away from her mind's eyes. The weight of the blade still clung to her, forced breath from her lungs. Desperately, wanting nothing more than to wash the vision of his broken, lifeless body in her arms, she sought his face beside her.
"…Contract is binding, one you signed of your own free will." Setsuna's empty, unfaltering drone boomed despite it's muted tone. The realization that she had missed something big eased the pulsing memories back enough to focus once more. She grimaced, nervously biting at her lip as the exchange unfolded.
"He swore he would give us a Binding. He swore that we would face this challenge together." Endymion's hell black locks sucked in the light from behind them, and his dark eyes shimmered with anger. The sudden tenseness of his fingers at her waist were alarming. They were angry, shouting in words rather than volumes as she would have with her Senshi. The mortal man would not back down or cower from the unmistakable Goddess before him. The returned anger from the time guardian was equally as intense, though it reflected in her emerald-shadowed aura.
"Your seal stands. But know this, dark prince, that the Fates themselves are no friend of yours. This first test they have set for you has all but broken you from each other. All with parlor tricks, age-old and well used. Should the binding break entirely, both must fulfill the measure of their contract regardless."
"Wait, Setsuna, please. What contract? What binding?"
The heavy burden of ages settled across him as his goddess awaited explanation. He could not bear to look into her wide, confused silver eyes at the memory. She had always been so gentle, so soft. She had never posed a threat despite her Titan heritage. It was the only reason she had not been overthrown and cast into the pit of Tartarus at the new Age. Had he known that she would be forced to fight as well…he never would have agreed to such an ordination.
"I signed a contract with Kronos the night of our wedding. We are to serve as protectors of this world for all time."
The hollow, forlorn words left his lips as if the confession were somehow natural. The impossibility raged against her conscious. Such things could not be done. Such things surely could not be undone. His hazy, confused night eyes were shadowed with frustration, longing. The turn of his mouth gave no evidence of a joke, nor did his demeanor speak of mirth.
"That's silly, Endmion. Why would you do such a thing? What could he have possibly offered…" the air froze within her throat. His cobalt orbs were intent and riddled with darkness as he stared at her, the muscle in his jaw visibly tightened. She gulped, turning to the time guardian with a distant sort of fascinated horror. The sonic realization boomed through her mind, siphoning the visions both past and present into nothingness.
Her. Kronos had offered her.
"Yes. A Binding spell, sealing you together forever."
The words echoed, more so than any she had spoken earlier. Dizzying images began to swim toward the light of her conscious mind, bringing with them a wrenching sense of injustice. The flood of pain, all the remorse and heartbreak Usagi had gone through over the years of knowing him flooded upward, choking her, tearing her down. It brought images of his icy stare, the cold so fierce it burned from within…The hopelessness of these feelings, and the sudden, wrenching end it had come to. She gulped, forcing the tears down as each successive memory howled through her mind. A spell that should have brought every good and beautiful thing in this world twisted into a curse so terrible it would crush her in every lifetime, every time she saw him. Forever.
The weight of her discovery squeezed the air from her lungs. More than anything, the images brought with them the knowledge of his indifference. The most recent of them all was seeing him stand beside a white rose, his face as calm and collected and distant as she had ever seen it. He had spoken those words, as if nothing could ever be done to change their situation. It was the most telling of all of them; and she felt herself shiver away from his touch, from his side.
"Endymion. What have you done?" she could remember thinking, so many times as Usagi, that she never wanted to care for him at all. The feelings of entrapment had run wild from the beginning, that false tug on her heart had been nothing more than a superficial spell from an age long gone. The worse of it all, though, was the knowledge that even despite the fact; in her heart she loved him anyway.
The revelation was a laceration of crimson-encrusted trauma that could never be washed from her soul. Even when she could have chosen otherwise, even when she might have untangled herself from the fate that surrounded them, she couldn't. Or, more accurately, she amended that she wouldn't. The spell had done more than bind them together; it had taken from her the most important man in her life, and had denied her the right to choose for herself.