Chapter 15

"I can't believe that we're riding together… like this… again," Wolfram muttered, leaning over the side of the horse and dry heaving. He remembered boat trips, with seasickness, more pleasurable. He wiped is watery eyes against his forearm.

"Well," Yozak said, trying to avert his gaze from the blond Mazoku, "at least you're not throwing up anymore." He gave a happy-go-lucky shrug.

Still feeling green, the ex-prince forced himself to sit upright in the saddle. "At this point, I've already thrown up all the apple juice from earlier." His hand went to his stomach. It was beginning to cramp up.

"Which, by the way, you downed far too quickly." Yozak smirked at him a little. "Here's your canteen. Drink some water before you start feeling dry on the inside. By the time you realize how thirsty you are, you'll be dehydrated."

Shakily, Wolfram put the canteen to his lips and drank a few sips. He screwed the lid back on tight and gave it to Yozak. "Thank you," he mumbled under his breath and could feel a glow of happiness from the spirit within him. "And…Tra'va says 'thanks,' too."

That got Wolfram a gentle squeeze from a beefy arm. "For Tra'va," Yozak whispered in a low, sexy tone that made him blush.

"Yes, well…" the blond said noncommittally, blinking pink and green mismatched eyes. Then, on its own (which he assumed was Tra'va's doing) his arm raised itself and he pointed out the left fork to their group, taking them across the border into the von Christ lands. The wide road narrowed down into a far simpler one, but one that was better maintained. Now, there was barely enough room for traffic to head east and west.

Yuuri noticed that there were two grey stone markers, to greet the travelers in both directions, with the motto "None are braver than those who face themselves," a direct quote from Shinou, apparently, which was chiseled into them. Murata read the quote and laughed evilly inside of himself. The Original King did say the words. The von Christs got that part right at least. However, what Shinou actually said was, "'None are braver than those who face themselves?' Really, my dear Sage. That's a load of tripe. Don't bother reading that passage to me again. It would be better to rip the page out of the tome and to wipe one's backside with it."

Yuuri looked at the stone markers as they passed and turned to Murata. "Wow…I guess Shinou said some pretty profound things."

Eyes blinked owlishly from behind glasses. "Well…um…okay." He grinned.

The sound of Wolfram heaving again caught their ears. His coughs and gags were getting longer and louder. In between, it was almost as though he needed to gasp for breath. And there was a kind of desperation in his distressed breathing.

Yozak looked down at the figure leaning over the side which was now totally supported by his left arm. Wolfram's palm was firmly planted in front of his mouth, as though that could push back the acid rising in his throat.

"Are you okay, Wolfram?" Yuuri called to him. His face showed unmistakable worry.

He scrunched his eyes shut at the words. Fool him. I have to. The blond, clutching his stomach, gave a hard glare. "Do I sound okay?"

"Well, the attitude's just about right," Murata chuckled. He wanted to lighten up the mood, if he could, before Yuuri got worried. Following that, acting rashly was usually the next step for him. And Murata wasn't inclined to go through more arguments between Yuuri and Trouble. Just packing up was an uncomfortable chore with his friend and the spirit shooting glares at each other. It was godsend when Wolfram finally took his body back for the journey ahead. "Keep up the good work," he said cheerily to the blond.

Wolfram rolled his eyes and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve—a sleeve attached to a white shirt that the sage had loaned to him this morning. Just to be mean, his wiped his mouth again.

Yuuri smiled a little at Murata's words. It broadened when the blond sat up again, trying even harder to act "normally" in front of him. Wolfram folded his arms and tried to "huff" in displeasure as a cover for the dizzy spell that was coming back. But, the world began to spin and the concepts of "up" and "down" became totally alien.

"Damn it," Wolfram hissed to himself. He wobbled a bit in the saddle and his body strained against the arm holding him in place.

"Seriously now," Yozak said in his ear, "…you okay?" He could feel the blond breathing hard in his arms, his chest moving in irregular breaths.

Wolfram's eyes shot in the direction he knew his brother and Yuuri to be. Murata had to be somewhere on Yuuri's other side that he couldn't see. "No," he whispered back in a rush. "And this ice," he went on, pulling the pillowcase from his bed that was filled with ice and pushed against his sternum, "is dripping all over me, but it's not holding back the heat as well as it did an hour ago."

"Well, keep it pressed against you anyway. Every little bit helps."

Yozak felt a blond head nod, reluctantly, in agreement. And, then, he felt the head lean against him with a very frustrated "sorry."

"It's okay," Yozak said, coiling his arm a little more tightly against Wolfram. Sleep now and I'll wake you at the next turn.

"Fine," he sighed back with an edge, "but just tell everyone I fell asleep. Do not tell them that I feel this bad. I'm tired of them staring at me, and I don't want their pity."

"Com' on… They care about you." The spy's words were kind, but he understood why the blond felt that way.

"I know that. But, there's nothing they can do." He leaned in again and turned his head to the side. "And, another thing…" Wolfram got dizzy again, his fever blush getting darker, and, like a rag doll, he wobbled.

The world faded to black and his body grew heavy.

"Wolfram!" Yuuri wailed, urging his steed closer. Because of the sudden, uncoordinated movement in front of him, he caught the sight of Wolfram's collapse. The blond head rolled along with the shifting body.

Conrad heard Yuuri and his head whipped in Wolfram's direction. He, too, urged his horse forward with a panicked "Wolfram!"

The orange haired spy stopped the horse, dipped his hand in the wet cloth against Wolfram's chest and patted Wolfram's face with cold fingers. Not willing to give up, he pressed the hand against a warm cheek. Eyes flew open at that.

"Wolfram?" Yozak said in a low voice. He stroked the face with cool fingers until Wolfram was able to focus his eyes on him.

The blond put a hand to his head. He felt like warmed over crap.

"Yozak, I can carry Wolfram for awhile," his brother said, motioning with his arms stretched out. He would carry his little brother from here on in. Some part of him, the brother who held him at birth, needed to hold Wolfram to assure himself that his baby brother would survive this.

"No," Wolfram whispered into the spy's chest.

"He's not a burden. I quite like holding him," the spy said with a kind of "over the top cheerfulness" that spoke volumes to his long time friend.

Conrad lowered his arms at that. But the brown eyes and blue eyes formed a connection; a link.

Wolfram noticed, with a begrudging envy and respect, that the two of them had their "special" unspoken language between them. And, at the moment, they were speaking volumes in a foreign tongue he couldn't even begin to comprehend. He promised himself that, should he survive this, he would build such a relationship with The Maou so that they, too, could speak without words.

Wolfram gripped Yozak's hand and held on. "I'm not moving. There's no need. I'm going to stay with Yozak because I'm damn well not getting off," he said as the last of the dizzy spell started to clear out of him. He scrunched his eyes shut and buried his face into Yozak's chest again. And, because of that, he missed the deep frown on Yuuri's face and the look of distress on Conrad's. Yozak gave him the "If he prefers me, then we should let him be comfortable" vibe. Reluctantly, Conrad agreed with a slow nod, noting the way his brother was clutching at his chest with one hand. Conrad also saw that, with the opposite hand, Wolfram had tightened his fingers in the material on Yozak's sleeve just under the shoulder. His knuckles were white.

"…And that's all there is to it." Some part of Wolfram couldn't believe he just said that. He cringed. The truth was that, at least, Yozak was strong enough to hold him, and the spy would try to preserve his dignity as much as possible. Wolfram knew that now. And the very idea of getting off one horse just to get on another one was even more sickening to his stomach. "Besides," Wolfram breathed, "we need to go this way anyhow." He pointed to a little dirt trail off of their road. It wandered away towards a lake and some trees. Yuuri thought he could spot a small structure made of grey stone beyond that.

The horses turned and headed off in a new direction, following the trail.

"Yozak?" he whispered.

"Hm?" The spy answered. He wondered if the blond was going to give him another "thank you," or if he felt well enough to go back into his "bratty" nature and would start issuing orders. The latter would relieve his worries more than the former.

"Tra'va and I…we're tired. We really are…" His grip on Yozak's sleeve was loosening. The fingers trailed through the material before falling away.

"I see…" the spy said quietly, trying not to say something that could be overheard.

"The dagger…" Wolfram said, leaning blond curls into his chest. "…if all goes horribly wrong... Tra'va could try to transform and use her talons instead, but maybe not… So, the dagger would…be…"

"Wolfram… I…" Yozak interrupted. But, he felt stupid doing it. He didn't know what to say. Caring for Wolfram had almost become second nature to him now. Yozak just couldn't do it. And he realized, now, that there had never been a point when he was able to.

"I know you can't," Wolfram admitted slowly with a grim smile. "It was inexcusable to ask that of you. So… Just put it in my hand and I'll do the rest." He gave the spy a sincere look, the kind that melted hearts. "It beats the alternative of…Conrad watching me die."

Conrad? Sky blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're only speaking Conrad's name to make me agree," he spat, but did it so that only the two of them could hear. Now, he was furious with Wolfram. He hated being manipulated. This was just typical of the spoiled prince.

"Yes," the blond admitted in a hushed tone. "You've found me out. I'm selfish…to the core…not that you didn't know that before." The head snuggled into his chest a little. "But…I'm no liar. I can't keep feeling like this." And then the spy's ears picked up the soft words, "It hurts. It burns...Yozak."

He quickly forgot his anger and held Wolfram closer to him. Oh, Hell! "Let's find this shrine."

To everyone's surprise, the spy suddenly urged his horse to ride at a gallop, sending up little clouds of red dirt behind him.

Hold on, Wolfram. Hold on!

The Hermit's Shrine of the Holy Sepulcher was a small, ancient structure made of stonework and mortar with a simple roof and a garden path of moss covered pavestones leading up to an ornately carved oak door with heavy, iron hinges.

The current hermit, a short, shriveled up like a prune Mazoku in his early 400's wearing a dark brown robe tied at the waist with a strand of rope, was busy, kneeling down to get a better look at the red roses he had been cross pollinating. The new variety, one that he hoped would be more resistant to black spot in the wetter weather, would be his contribution to the beauty of the shrine. And, of course, the added bonus would be the rosehip tea that he could enjoy all winter long once he made his modest harvest.

The sound of horse hooves behind him made him jump.

Visitors, he thought, holding back a frown. Now, I will be out of my schedule for the rest of the day. I hope they leave before vespers.

The man stood up and wiped his lightly soiled hands together until they were clean. And, with the action, went his annoyance. If these people managed to find him and the shrine, by whatever miracle, he could at least greet them in a civilized manner.

Five horses came into view. Oddly, there were two riders on the first horse. And, that alone worried the hermit. So cut off from the temptations and cruelties of Shin Makoku, he knew that he would probably be the last to know if war had been declared or if a plague should befall the people.

As the riders drew near, the hermit noticed that the blond rider's body seemed crumpled against an orange haired half-Mazoku male. The blond's eyelids were hanging low and his hands were grasping his shoulders. The angelic face showed pain—the ride jarring his body, the old man guessed.

The hermit raised a hand in greeting as he approached the strangers. Obviously, the blond young man was the one in need of help. And, if possible, he could use a mixture of herbs and healing magic to send them on their way.

"Greetings," the hermit said with a smile. "I am Adalric, keeper of the shrine." He nodded humbly and his bald head gleamed a bit when the sun hit it.

With fatigue, Wolfram dragged his leg over and tried to get down by himself before Yozak stopped him. "Let me get off first. Then, I'll get you."

The blond shook his head "no" and found himself very much alone on the horse.

Yozak stood on the ground with his arms raised. "C'mon."

Jerk…doesn't listen to anyone…. Shakily, the blond wiped some sweat from his cheek with the back of his hand. Then, he tossed away the "now very wet and empty" pillowcase, folded his arms in defiance, and said "Humph, I'm not a pretty princess. I'm a man. And, I can get down on my own."

Suddenly, a callused hand grabbed Wolfram's elbow and yanked hard—sending him over the side and into the strong arms of Yozak. The pale face framed with orange hair filled Wolfram's whole field of vision. "Man, you're a pain… Any more attitude," came the dark, sexy tone, "and I'll hand you over to the sage, bridal style."

Pink and green eyes widened at that.

"You wouldn't dare. As weak as I am, he'd take advantage," Wolfram murmured, eyeing Murata as he jumped down from his horse. "Who knows what he'd do and what Tra'va'd let him do as a 'farewell' gesture." The burning increased in his chest. The blond decided it was the sage's fault—somehow. He narrowed his eyes.

Yozak laughed. It had a mischievous ring to it.

Wolfram began to sweat for a whole new reason besides his fever. "We can't have sex at a holy site. We'd be cursed!"

Another laugh.

He chewed on his lower lip. "But, I'm not interested in Murata that way," he protested in a harsh whisper. The blond folded his arms to push back the burning feeling, he told himself.

"You didn't care earlier," Yozak pointed out.

"I couldn't feel anything earlier…when she was in control," Wolfram admitted reluctantly.

Yozak was now close enough to kiss. He swallowed hard.

"Was that 'couldn't?' Or…'didn't want to'?" Yozak asked in half seriousness.

"Put me down," Wolfram gritted out. Then, on his feet, he added as an after thought, "the hermit was staring at us."

"And the kiddo still is," Yozak said with a hand on the blond's shoulder, and a head motioning to the double black.

Eh? Wolfram turned to look at Yuuri. He was standing next to his horse with his hands on his hips and a dark expression. The black eyes looked levelly at him. The expression said, "And you're always the one to call me 'cheater'."

What Yuuri sees, The Maou sees, the blond worried to himself, wrapping an arm around his ribs and slowly straightening up all the way. He rubbed his feverish face again and approached the hermit. I know that Yuuri doesn't care that much for me. He has someone else—maybe, several "someones." But The Maou is probably mad. If I make it through this, I could be in for some trying times later.

"Greetings, Hermit Adalric," Wolfram said, making great efforts to hide the pained voice that would give him away. He stopped before the elderly man with a slight smile on his lips. The others followed up behind Wolfram.

One look at the pink and green eyes startled the hermit. He took a step backwards and eyed the young man before him. Feverish face. Body bent over, holding his chest…and those eyes! It must be a new disease. I've never seen the likes of it before.

A part of the old Mazoku wanted to flee from Wolfram. If it was a disease, it seemed to affect the eyes first. They could all be blind, or even dead, very soon. However, the kinder and more loving nature was the dominant one. To heal was his first instinct. And, if he could save this blond stranger, he would. Adalric reached a hand out to cure the fever first and a green glow came from his hand. "You seem sick, young one."

Wolfram laughed a little, caught the man's wrist, and lowered the hand. In a voice that sounded like his mixed with Tra'va's, the blond said, "You should know me, hermit."

The old man's jaw dropped. And so did everyone else's.

"You saw me in the dream last night, remember?" A smile followed.

The old man shook his head. "I would have remembered a cherub in my dreams. What I saw was…"

"A flying fox?" the blond offered. "Just like the legends…?"

"Well…yes…" He gaped at that. "A…fox woman…" He studied Wolfram a little closer now, wondering for a second if the stranger was a female after all, but in disguise. Foxes were known to be sneaky and take on unusual forms. Male or female? Then, he decided it didn't matter. A beautiful youth was a beautiful youth. "Umm….You are a…good fox…right?"

From behind, everyone laughed nervously at that. Tra'va shot them a dangerous "What, the hell, do you think you're doing? I'm trying to impress this guy" look and they sweat dropped.

Tra'va straightened her shoulders and tried again. "I'll bring you wisdom."

Yuuri snickered behind his hand at that.

"And my first profound thought is," and Tra'va pointed at Yuuri, "he's a prat."

Everyone snickered but the double black.

The blond nodded at the stunned hermit, who was quickly questioning the veracity of the "good" fox who was walking into the shrine. Without turning, Tra'va said, "I will be your companion for the next twenty years if the ritual goes well." The blond passed through the doorway and, for a brief second, Tra'va's head and the shadow of her shoulders loomed over Wolfram. But, the moment passed and the blond walked on.

Yuuri and Murata shot glances at each other.

Yozak made a movement to get the dagger from his saddlebag. But, his hand couldn't touch it. The spy couldn't even touch the bag. Instead, his hand was there—frozen in mid air. Then, it fell. Yozak made for the entrance silently berating himself when he felt a large, warm hand on the middle of his back.

"You're not a failure," Conrad said quietly, "even if it was what Wolfram wanted."

"You knew…that he'd ask for the dagger again." Yozak stared levelly, his hair blowing slightly in the wind.

"I guessed," Conrad said, sliding the hand over to the shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "We'll get through this, though."

Yozak sighed and tried to appear cheerful for Conrad's sake. And Conrad appreciated it.

Inside the shrine, there were four simple pews made out of cherry wood resting on a grey, stone floor. A small, raised dais had a lectern with an old, well thumbed tome resting closed on it. To the right of the lectern was an ornate chair decorated in gold paint. On the left side, there was a small recess with a wooden shelf built inside of it. It held a small book with golden embossed pages, an oil lamp, a crystal goblet, and a long, narrow shadow box with an arm bone fragment and a lock of blond hair.

The only window was a round, stained glass window on the wall behind the dais—depicting a tree with spreading branches. Green and gold light spilled in and gave a kindly glow on the people within.

"Too tired to stand…through this…" Without asking permission, Wolfram placed a palm against his chest and forced his body into the chair. The burning sensation increased, causing him to bite back a groan. But, Yuuri could see it. Even with all of his soldier's training, there was no way to hide how sick he was anymore.

The hermit was about to protest Wolfram getting on the dais and sitting in the chair without permission, but one hard glare shut him up right away.

Wolfram closed his eyes briefly and took some cleansing breaths. When he opened them again, they had adjusted to the low light.

"Choose, Wolfram," Tra'va said out loud.

"What?" He answered back in his own voice.

It was odd, disconcerting. Wolfram and Tra'va were speaking to each other out loud as themselves.

"My new vessel," she said and pointed to the shelf of objects. "Decide…where I should go. You are the only host I have ever given this honor to…by the way."

Wolfram turned his body slightly to stare at the shelf—as did everybody else.

"Do you choose: The book…knowledge. The oil lamp…insight. The goblet…fellowship. Or, the bone…reverence?"

"The bone…?" The hermit squeaked incredulously. "That is Shinou's. You can't use the most hallowed relic in the entire kingdom as a home!"

Murata stared at the bone and the lock of blond hair from the spot where he was standing—and smiled deviously. The lock of hair was the wrong shade of blond. It was bleach blond. The hair was nothing even close to the sunny color that Shinou once had. Only Wolfram had come close. And only he, himself, knew the true place where Shinou's bones were buried. Murata could still see himself, as the Original Sage, setting the funeral pyre and burning Shinou's body after taking his soul. He sat alone, just the two of them—one alive and one set aflame—with the wind slicing against his skin almost cruelly. And Shinou's beautiful face disappearing in a violent burst of dying ember sparks. Abandoned and alone… But, between his palms, he held Shinou's warm soul in a vessel. His treasure.

Tears pricked at Murata's eyes. The words he spoke at their first meeting were true. No good can come from an association with me.

"Does it really matter, Tra'va?" Wolfram asked irritably. The burning inside of him was getting to the point where he couldn't focus.

"To me, it does."

Wolfram nodded. "Then, this is my choice." He closed his eyes and told her what he wanted for her. …Because you love me…and I want the best for you…if you can't be inside of me any longer.

Tra'va smiled at it all—Wolfram's admission and his choice for her. And, she suspected, even he didn't fully comprehend the ramifications.

"Agreed, then."

Wolfram's hands rested on the arms of the chair. His feet were planted firmly. "Let us begin," Tra'va said, her voice carrying over Wolfram's. "Amicitiae nostrae memoriam spero sempiternam fore." The words echoed slightly.

Black and purple magic began to seep from Wolfram's body like a strange mist—swirling, holding him. A slick residue formed from the magic, settling down on Wolfram's skin. He threw back his head and hissed at the feeling—electricity biting him, numbing pain quickly following. Green eyes became red, bloody. Wolfram gasped for breath as his form changed and the "shadow-man" reappeared, superimposed on the body in the chair.

A thin web came from Wolfram's chest. It fell away from him, like a shimmering fold of ivory silk. It sought out the edges of the chair, the dais, and the lectern. One thin strand reached out like a finger for the shelf. It flicked open the latch to the shadow box with the lock of hair and the bone.

"You chose the bone."

"I did," he breathed. "You told me once… No one buried you when you died…remember? They just left your body as a warning to not raid the king's tomb."

The spirit wanted to laugh, but there was too much pain in Wolfram's body.

"It's time to say goodbye, Wolfram," Tra'va said. Her ghostly arms held him.

The black and purple magic circled them, causing a breeze which pushed against Conrad, Yozak, Murata, and Yuuri. The old hermit backed away to the wall closest to the door and leaned against it for support.

A crackling sound and a deep rumbling made them all jump.

Wolfram's hands gripped the armrests.

"Now!" Tra'va's voice echoed in the room.

The energy rose and the shadow-man form leaned back, trying to block out the pain. It didn't last long. Wolfram thrashed in the chair. Try as he might, he couldn't help himself.

Sparks of energy shot at them.

The purple and black magic began to fade enough to reveal Wolfram's features. He was breathing hard and groaned in pain when the next shock hit them.

"I can't!" Wolfram said in Tra'va's voice. "I don't think I have enough energy to shift away." She was panicked, shaking her head "no" and Wolfram's body, like a puppet, was following each gesture.

"Tra'va!" Wolfram shouted over the noise.

"If I can't do this, you're going to die, Wolfram!"

"Keep trying!" he encouraged and closed his eyes tightly, willing it to succeed.

"I don't have the strength. I'm too tired. It's too much. I can't leap."

There were tears on Wolfram's face now. They weren't his.

"I'm scared," she whimpered.

Yuuri wanted to go to Wolfram and took a step before he felt Murata holding him back.

"Murata!" he shouted in frustration.

"Shibuya, if you touch even one of those strands, you'll break the web," he pointed out. Yuuri's black eyes turned and he saw that Wolfram was now covered in a fine web of silver threads. "Break even one strand, and…" Murata didn't finish his thought. He didn't need to.

Wolfram scrunched his eyes shut. "Then… Then, take my magic! It's fire magic and we're both fire wielders. So, do it!"

Tra'va shook her head "no." "You're tired, too. I can't just…"

"I SAID, DO IT!" Wolfram roared. "Take it! TAKE IT ALL if you have to!" The purple and black bands were the only ribbons of magic tied to them now. His blond hair blew across his face, his eyes hidden in shadow.

Suddenly, Yuuri couldn't breathe. What? No….NO! He turned to Conrad in a panic, grasping his sleeve. "She can't just take all of his magic! He'll die! Just like Susanna Julia!"

Conrad's head whipped to look at his brother. The soldier's heart was beating hard. This was his little brother. And, in front of them all, he was willing to sacrifice his life for the fox spirit. Conrad's final moments and memories of Susanna Julia came flooding into his head mixed with memories of a little Wolfram studying in the library with her. Then, it was Wolfram—wrapped up in a white and golden embroidered blanket, as a toddler throwing fists of green peas at a maid, as a young man dueling Yuuri for the first time…

"Wolfram!" Conrad shouted, quickly followed by a pleading cry from Yuuri.

Murata stood silently with his jaw set tightly. They just don't understand. If Tra'va doesn't jump into her new vessel, Wolfram dies. If she needs all of Wolfram's magic, he still dies.

Wolfram slumped in the chair, his eyes watery with tears. He looked at the people before him and thought to himself that, at the very least, he spent his final moments with the people who cared about him. But, now that his engagement was officially over, he would be like the bone in the window box—separated forever from the ones he loved in life. Wolfram knew he would be buried in his father's lands, and Yuuri would be entombed with the Maous in Blood Pledge Castle. But, it was okay, he decided. Wherever Yuuri was—wherever The Maou was—it would be fine because they would live. And if Tra'va died with him, he would keep his promise and hold onto her in the void for all eternity.

She was so much a part of him anyway, it would almost be a comfort knowing that he would be with someone who cared for him so deeply.

Despite the pain and fatigue—his body begging to be released from this moment—Wolfram lifted his head and smiled at Yuuri one last time.

"It was good…while it lasted, you know."

In his mind's eye, Wolfram gathered the last of his magic—a burning flame in the palm of his left hand. He found Tra'va's hand and placed the magic in her palm. She struggled with him—trying to pull away, trying not to take it. "Where I'm going, you shouldn't follow," she whispered. "It's a bad place." Wolfram laughed, forcing the magic into her palm anyway. "You're right. Someone should go on, and I choose…you."

Red and yellow fire fanned out—layering over the black and purple bands of magic that outlined their bodies. A shooting flame, burned and followed the web lines like a long, intricately woven wick set ablaze which hissed loudly. The flames joined and narrowed down to a single strand, going into the box with the bone fragment and the lock of hair.

Murata dropped to his knees. This was it.

Wolfram and Tra'va screamed together; hideous and agonizing.

Conrad found Yuuri's hand and held it tightly, shaking hard. Wolfram was beyond help. He knew it, and he would curse himself forever because of it. But Yuuri had to be protected from doing something rash. Yuuri would be his sole devotion now, and he would never make this mistake again—to allow a danger to come so close to someone he loved.

"Wolfram!" The voice broke as it cried the name.

Conrad's wide eyes turned.

Before he knew it, Yuuri's smaller hand slipped out of his grip and the double black was running forward. His hair lengthened to his shoulders with the first step. His shoulders widened with the second. Blue bands of light and energy engulfed him with the third. The eyes had black slits by the time he'd reached the chair and pulled Wolfram into his arms, engulfing everything in a blue-white light.

"Yuuri! Wolfram!" Conrad shouted, hands clinched into fists.

What if he lost both of them?