GAH! I hate my new ISP. Grr. Long story. Anyway: YAY! It's chapter five of Angelic Sacrifice! -cue music- We're almost to a close; aww, how sad! Been thinking about the yaoi version too: dunno if I'm gonna yaoi-fy the entire story or just the last few chapters, but I've got a few good ideas.

Another reading assignment. Go check out A Single Drop of Purity, a collab by Spiritua Masquerade and Holyknightsteve. Why? Do you even have to ask?

I do not own Tales of Symphonia. If I did, Origin's seal wouldn't be on the outskirts of nowhere, deep in a mind-numbing forest.

It was time for the waiting game. Destiny was pleased with the path She set before them, finding no regrets for the pitfalls that stood in their ways. Fate smiled to Himself, bragging about the choices He forced the Seraphim to make. And Death sat and looked upon the man in his state of demise, as he inched closer and closer to the door from which none have returned. His lips curved into a grin, calling out the name He had been waiting upon for far too long; the one that escaped from the grave, the only human to make a fool of Him. Kratos Aurion. The time has come. Finally, I've won.

The candle ran out, but Kratos continued writing. Yuan looked on in surprise as he heard the sounds of scribbling in the darkness. Even without the lights, he could tell that the mercenary's words were important to him. The inkpot's reservoir became more and more shallow as the quill wore out, barely surviving the abuse of intense, yet delicate handwriting; Yuan worried that Kratos would run out of ink or the quill would give way before his great work was complete, having no knowledge of possible replacements. He was curious as to the words that were contained within the pages of the diary of a dying angel, but felt viewing without permission would be an invasion of privacy far beyond forgiveness and he had no intention of asking for said permission. Whatever Kratos needed to get off his conscious was his business, and if he were involved, surely he would be notified.

Water. It was the only thing left on the planet, the only thing to repress Kratos' starvation, if only for a moment. The hunger consumed him with four thousand year's retribution, growing more and more untamed with each passing instant. He mumbled incoherently to himself, moving around as if the feeling of fatigue would go away with motion, only to make his cravings more passionate. In his suffering, he tried to remain as silent as possible, but his companion's angelic hearing picked every grumble, cry, plea, and groan as he sat in the corner, pretending not to be affected by the sounds. What have I done?

Suddenly, the sounds stopped. Yuan looked up nervously at his companion, breathing in and out as his heartbeat increased tenfold. He struggled to his feet and ran over to the bed. Kratos lay motionless in an uncomfortable position, lacking the energy required to move, covers wrapped around his arms and legs in disheveled manner; most of his weight was on his shoulder, while he leaned on the side of his face, causing the pillow to block any air from reaching his nose and mouth. Pushing his cerulean hair behind his ear, he tilted the mercenary on his side, gently lowering him to his back, fearing he was unable to breath.

"Kr-Kratos!" The half elf's eyes widened in fear as he shook Kratos' body, staring into his companion's unmoved face for any signs of life. No! Not yet! I'm not ready to lose you!

With a monotone moan, Kratos opened his eyes; the lids undulated as another wave of fatigue flushed over his face, exposing his dulling brown orbs. He tried to bring a hand to his head to wipe away gray strains rubbing against his skin, but Yuan beat him to it. The angel fixed the blankets under his companion to the best of his ability and straightened Kratos' clothing. He ended up smoothing the man's hair down to the sides, careful to avoid having any of the locks stick to his cheeks.

"...uh..."

Yuan shook his head and covered Kratos' mouth with his hand. "Don't talk if you're in pain. How many times do I have to tell you that?" He pushed the man back down, settling his body in a way he felt would be most at ease.

Something on the mercenary's face was different: the once radiant glint in his eye was gone, smothered out like a candle's fire. His breathing had yet to steady enough to quell Yuan's fears, but he made no effort to correct it. Despite the Ritual being complete, the fever remained and his skin was hot to the touch. Yuan's fingers began to develop sores and blisters from nursing Kratos. Through all this, the angel expressed no complaints. He couldn't forgive himself if his companion died, the last words coming from his mouth being negative. That was just unspeakable.

Kratos ignored the chastisement. "...wa-" His hand shot to his mouth as he covered a cough; his face grimaced in pain.

"Water?" replied Yuan as he scrambled around to find the bucket he'd been using to retrieve water from Derris Kharlan's well.

He located the bucket and turned back to his ailing companion just in time to make note of a soft nod. Yuan replied with a nod of his own, standing to his feet. "Alright, but the bucket's empty. I need to get more from the well. I'll be right back." He stood to his feet, bucket in hand, and made his way to the door with hastened footsteps. Kratos watched him walk away before turning on his side with his back facing the door with no intention of looking at it again.

Yuan turned the corner at lightning fast speeds and started off with a power-walk, which progressed into a jog, then a full run, until finally he summoned his pink, translucent wings. He growled to himself in disappointment, as he tried so hard to avoid their assistance. He didn't want to use the accursed, artificial appendages; one of the only things left that marked him as an angel of Cruxis. But, right now, there was no time to spare.

Derris Kharlan's well was off some distance from Welgaia; an area not heavily guarded, as no one felt the need to steal something as basal as water. It was hardly used, other than for cleaning purposes. He landed some feet away, retracting his wings early, causing him to run a bit before coming to a complete stop. Bucket in hand, he approached the brick well, placing it on the ground for the moment. Then he took hold of a small wooden handle on the side and turned it. The well creaked and the ropes moaned as the water pitcher rose to the surface. Soon, the pitcher reached the top, filled to the brim with water. Some spilled out over the edge as he struggled to keep it from falling and tumbling anymore than it already was.

"Damn you! Cooperate!" Yuan grumbled at the inanimate object. It must have heard him and replied by tipping over half way, spilling even more of the precious water. Shaking the bucket verified that only a quarter of its capacity remained. "You've gotta be kidding me..." He rolled his eyes, throwing the bucket back in the well to repeat the tedious process from the beginning.

Finally, he didn't want to begin considering the exact amount of time, his own bucket was filled with an adequate amount of water. With a glare, Yuan cursed at the well in several different languages, picking up his bucket with both hands and prepared to leave. He summoned his wings again as he brought up the possibility of losing them permanently. He sighed, shook his head, and closed his eyes, pushing the issue to the back of his mind for the time being. I've plenty of time to think about that later. But right now, Kratos needs me.

- - - - - - - -

The angel navigated with swiftness, cutting through the air as if he were born with a natural sense of aviation, but kept the container in a standard position the entire time to avert loss of cargo. Somehow, most of the water managed to stay inside of the bucket. He landed the same way he did at the well and ran into the room with nimble footsteps guiding the way; his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness again as he waited for the sounds of coughing or a stray moan.

"I've got the..."

But something wasn't right.

Stepping into the room, the first thing he noticed was the silence. Dead silence."Kratos?"

No reply.

"Kratos?"

Silence.

"Kratos?! KRATOS!" Yuan panicked and released the bucket from his grasp, wasting all of his hard work. Water splashed all over the floor, raining down like a minute waterfall, and puddled in every direction as the bucket hit the ground with a large bang before rolling around its circumference until its momentum dispersed. It would have tripped him had he not outrun the water; his mind had far more important concerns, clouded with heartbreaking, but possible suspicions. "Dammit, answer me!"

With a slid, the half elf sprinted to Kratos' side and dropped to his knees, almost falling over himself. His hands grabbed the mercenary's body indignantly, gasping when he felt the temperature of the fingertips: ice cold. The skin was clammy, containing no color, with goose bumps all over like a million needles rising from his icy flesh. He remained unresponsive to all of the half elf's pleas for resurrection. This time, his companion's eyes never opened.

Parts of him wanted to believe that this was all just a cruel, sick joke for revenge, despite knowing that Kratos possessed no such harsh sense of humor. An aquamarine gaze scanned the still body for any hints of spirit, finding none. Yuan grabbed one of Kratos' wrist, flipping it palm-side up before placing his index and middle finger over the crease in the wrist joint. Shaking his head, he lowered it to the mercenary's chest, placing his ear where he determined the heart to be situated. Both inspections came to the same conclusion.

Kratos was dead.

"Say hi to Martel for me..." whispered the half elf as he stood to his feet. He took hold of his cape laying on the ground and placed it over his deceased companion. After standing there for a moment, he made his way out of the room, head drooped and feet shuffling as if they were too heavy to lift. Yuan turned the corner, leaned against the wall on his shoulder, and let his body drop down, softening the impact with his hands. And then, he resurrected a skill that had been dormant for over four thousand years.

He wept.

He grimaced in pain.

He crippled in sorrow.

He cried.

Because, this time, he couldn't save him.

Yuan thought about his last words to Kratos... "I'll be right back." Suddenly, an intense pain hit his chest and his face hit the icy floor, shaking convulsively in a fetal position. He wrapped his arms around his body, tightening the grip as he embraced himself; aquamarine eyes widened in shock as they stared blankly onto the ground, his dusty black clad chest contracted and expanded as breathing pattern became more and more broken up. Cerulean hair broken free from behind his shoulders and ears, shielding the sides of his face. I told him I'd be right back... he died waiting for me!

- - - - - - -

Grief and sorrow consumed the planet, as if all of Heaven were dressed in black, mourning along side the half elf and the last of the light fled. Emotions he was not prepared to endure, but was forced to, devoured his conscious with little to no mercy. He felt guilty; it took Kratos' death to break down the stern wall of hostility that he spent four thousand years to build up. He tried to cease his tears, feeling it was a form of contempt. Still, no matter how hard he tried, the tears wouldn't stop. So, after a while, he gave up, and let the pain wash down his face.

Then came the issue of how to handle the remains along with the location of the ex-Seraph's eternal resting place. Just like the angel, Kratos' body would have to be disposed of quickly before it began to decompose and the smell haunted Yuan's memories for the rest of his life. His options were limited, due to most of the equipment being discarded, but he eventually came across a magitechnology casket similar to the ones used to bury Martel's failed vessels. Kratos was not a rejected vessel, but Yuan had little choice. Maybe they were all judged unacceptable; tainted in one way or another, having no use other than to warm a lonely grave. In failure, there is destiny.

He reentered the room after being absent for Martel knows how long. The sight of the mercenary's lifeless body, even through the darkness, made his face wince as if he were slapped by the memories. Swallowing his emotions, he trekked with slow steps to Kratos' side once again. He moved the body away for the time being, still feeling he needed more time to prepare. Yuan grabbed his cape and folded it before placing it on one of the bottom steps; for some reason, he had no desire to put it back on. Next came the pillow, which was left alone, followed by the blankets.

Kratos' journal remained on the floor, exposed once the pillow was removed. The half elf was hesitate to touch it, as if it would burn his flesh to alert him that he lacked the right to view such a beautiful piece of literature. Eventually, he found the strength to pick it up and stared at it, waiting for it to give him some type of comfort. His palm ran over the top, taking note of the smooth sections along with a few nicks and bumps. This journal was now legendary in a sense, and he treated it as such. His thumb gripped the edge of the cover, in a manner suggesting he wanted to open it. But something stopped him. Shaking his head, he put the journal on top of the blankets and continued his duties.

Finally, he could no longer avoid the task. Yuan bent down on one knee, feeling the side of the casket until his fingers hit a clasp. A flip and the top opened with ease and a resounding echo as the joints and bearings creaked, revealing an empty space designated for only one resident. Looking up, he located Kratos' body, half expecting him to be standing, arms folded, eyeing the half elf with a frightened glare while he questioned the purpose of the casket; but he did not stand, he did not move, and he wouldn't ever again. If only...

Yuan turned to retrieve Kratos' body. He stood, only to bend down again, situating one arm under the mercenary's neck and the other under his knees: the same way he caught his body at Origin's seal. He took a deep breath in and lifted the entire mass along with his own, carrying it to the casket. The half elf ran his hand around the inside to make sure nothing protruded from the lining. His final inspection came out clean; now he was prepared to lower his companion's body inside, never to retrieve it again.

The face of Kratos pained him: the eyes were closed, the lips opened partially as if Kratos were speaking as he died, and his hair remained in a tangled manner; Yuan was forced to turn away and cover his eyes, suppressing the tears that demanded to overflow. For a moment, he considered covering the face with a blanket, but quickly voted against it. It wouldn't be fair to do such a thing solely based on his own unstable emotions.

"Goodbye, Kratos," Yuan whispered as he replaced the top of the casket. Now was the best time to say such a thing, even if it was too late.

No marches followed this funeral; things remained as silent as ever. No red sympathetic roses were placed on top of the casket, though Yuan wished he had some. No groups of weeping spectators or mourning hearts gathered at the edge, for they were in lands far away. No tombstone marked his final resting place and no pastor was present to speak words of comfort. Not even his son was in attendance to make note of his father's passing. No. Yuan was all that remained.

Derris Kharlan. Population: One That Remains.

- - - - - - - -

The final decision was left up to Yuan. After much contemplation, he finally decided to let Kratos rest in the main hallway. Discarding it into space would be an act of sacrilege and he hated himself for not asking his companion's request before he passed away. If only he had more time to say everything he wanted to say, if only he knew how much time was left, he would have treasured it so much more carefully. Time was too precious to waste and he made a conscious promise to cherish his remaining time, even though he had no limit for his Cruxis Crystal was still in his possession. But it wouldn't be for long.

Now he was truly all alone; the last remaining angel of Cruxis, the only survivor of a corrupted organization. His mind still played host to infinite memories and secrets that would turn any heart to stone, including his own. The halls echoed with a dark muteness, sucking away the last bits of life that sought to manifest itself. He felt no need to find more candles for the darkness was so comforting and he felt his eyes would betray him by resurrecting more memories with a single glance. There was nothing else to lose: his goal, his fiancé, his love, his hope, his family, his dreams, they were all gone. He buried a piece of his heart along with Kratos, seeking no desire to retrieve it. Even if he did, it would remain dead.

"What is to become of me?"

He thought about his last options, coming to no original conclusions. Every room in Derris Kharlan had been taken care of and emptied, so his goal was met. A few of them were set on fire using the power of lightning, burned to ashes with a godly hell fire that would make Efreet envious. He doubted how long he'd survived on the planet with nothing to do but watch the stars tease his angelic eyes. Waning in regret, he still managed to hear soft whispers, unable to determine where they were coming from. The half elf looked around, only to view the same familiar darkness that's been greeting his vision ever since he set foot on this forsaken planet.

Yuan's heart dropped when he reached into his pocket. Kratos' Cruxis Crystal was still inside as he could not bring himself to destroy it as requested. Wherever his companion was, he wouldn't need it. He sat up with his back against the nearest wall and stared at it with teary aquamarine eyes, throwing his hair behind his shoulder. It still maintained its radiant glow, illuminating a small circle of the hallway, though some of it had died down. The Crystal was almost as cold as Kratos' body when Yuan last found it; not even warming it in his hand changed the temperature. Little did the mercenary know, his Crystal was born from the same fate as his son's: through the life of his mother; she was one of the first exsphere human ranch victims. Mithos never said a word, even knowing that his experiment had a tight blood relation to one of his Seraphim. Yuan knew as well, but never conceded, feeling Kratos would be unable to handle the truth, and regretted not confessing before he fell to his grave. Secrets seemed to ruin everything for the both of them.

And that's when he came to his decision. Standing, he walked over Kratos' casket and placed the Crystal on top, right next to his sacred journal, holy quill, and consecrated inkpot. He bent down, lowered his head, and gave another heartfelt farewell to the ex-Seraph. Yuan still had hope that maybe, just maybe, Kratos could hear him and he'd be able to find the courage deep within his soul to forgive the half elf of all his mistakes, for he had not a son to correct them.

No one else remained to nurse him like he did Kratos; he would singlehandedly witness, execute, aid, and participate in his own death. Maybe it was for the better, seeing how he reacted to his companion's death. Maybe Kratos would have broken down just like he did; maybe his brown eyes would flood with tears and he'd fall to his knees, weeping over a casket, screaming out inaudible apologizes that would never reach the ears of the dearly departed. Maybe that's why the mercenary went first; a fear of sorrow, a fear of pain, a fear of being hurt again.

Yuan retrieved a second casket, purposely avoiding passing through the main hallway, and carried it into the Great Seed Chamber. Kratos' belongings still lay there, untouched since his death. The half elf had no intentions of disturbing them either; they served no further purpose. He placed the casket on the altar, where Martel resided for four thousand years, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything. And that's where he'd stay; forever.

Once the casket was in position, centered and aligned from every side as if he were an offering to the Goddess Martel, he opened the top and stepped inside. His heart was racing, pleading with him to cease and desist from this most sinister plan since the Age of Lifeless Beings for nothing good would come from sacrificing himself. And just like his lord, he refused to listen, tapping in to the stubbornness that most members of Cruxis possessed. Nothing great would come from living any longer. His purpose had been fulfilled with the burial of his fellow Seraph, and now, nothing more remained.

Hands clasped together in a manner suggesting he was praying, he closed his eyes, tilted his head to the Heavens, and took one last breath in. He was not born as an angel; he was not born with glimmering wings, or the ability to fly, nor was immorality a birthright. Yet he chose to die as something artificial and counterfeit, thus ending the legacy of the organization with the bloodiest hands; the last of the blood being from its own members. Farewell, Cruxis.

"Thy power floweth purely, ever unwavering. Accept my soul into thine embrace. Sacrifice!"

His voice produced screams that none could hear and his eyes filled with tears that none could see. A mana circle developed beneath his feet, glowing bright shades of purple and blue. Light flashed, strong enough to blind anyone standing in the room, and surrounded his body as mana flooded in all directions, pouring onto the stairs and overflowing off the altar. Beautiful pink wings appeared on his back once more. And he fell backwards; his body leaning on the edge of the casket with no one to correct his position.

Derris Kharlan. Population: None That Remain.

Oh noes! Nooo! Not Kratos and Yuan! I feel bad for the stuff I did to Yuan: having Kratos trick him out of the room and all; almost cried myself xD Wasn't expecting to have them both go in the same chapter, but if I had split it, chapter six would barely be five pages. Still, I'm pretty satisfied with the way this story turned out. Some parts need to be edited, but overall, I'm happy. Might edit later.

We'll close with an epilogue; not sure when it'll be out. Maybe in a few days -shrugs- I just got my first project for a class.

Time to run before the fangirls come after me with pitchforks and torches. 'Til next chapter, TOOTLES. ♥