CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Crippled Wings

"What happens now…?" Jacqueline whispered, her voice not sounding like herself.

"We return to Ostrheinsburg," Raphael said with a proud, malicious voice. "It is there that the spiritual powers of Soul Edge will feed to Soul Calibur," he glanced at me over his shoulder, "right?"

"Y-yes, master." I murmured, my voice barely getting past the lump in my throat. He took his gaze from me, as if doubtful – or maybe it was just my worry.

"Then… I will create the utopia for Amy and me…" He said, more to himself than to us.

I gripped Auguste and Jacqueline's hands tightly as we strode behind Raphael.

The battlement Ostrheinsburg crept over the horizon. Walking across the stone bridge, we entered the citadel's throne room this time, which looked a bit similar to Raphael's manor. When we stepped inside, Raphael looked around eerily, Soul Calibur shining in his hand. He stepped forward, down the carpet and struck the blade so it stood upright in the floor, just a foot away from the strange chasm that stood ahead of him. "Marienbard, Jacqueline…stay here." He glanced around again, then he locked his gaze on Auguste, scanning him from his bare feet to his wolf mask. "Auguste, come with me. I need to speak with you."

Auguste obeyed his master, and the two walked out. Jacqueline and I stood silently at the sides of the carpet, waiting in agonizing suspense and anticipation.

"M-Marienbard…" Jacqueline whispered, her voice shaken and terrified. "Master Raphael…he k-killed an innocent man…!"

"Who?" I tried to keep my voice even as I always did, but it wavered as well. "Wh-which do you mean?"

"The Knight…!"

"The Azure—?"

"No, n-no… The crystal knight… S-Siegfried…"

I tried to scoff, but in my heart I knew Jacqueline was right. "We know nothing about…Siegfried. R-Raphael said himself that the man was a sinner…"

"If he was an evil man, why would he have Soul Calibur?" Jacqueline shrieked. My breathing increased as did her paranoia.

I swallowed. "Siegfried—the man did speak of redemption…"

"Raphael is evil. He plans m-malice!" Jacqueline was practically screaming.

"Jacqueline – calm yourself!"

"NO!" Jacqueline did scream this time. "RAPHAEL IS AN EVIL MAN!" Tears streamed down her cheeks and her voice calmed to a whisper. "Whenever before have you heard of a holy vampire in folklore..?"

I knew what she meant by calling Raphael evil. I put my gaze to the carpet and locked it there, whilst biting my lip and blinking tears. "Jacqueline, I will not let him kill you."

Raphael entered the throne room with pride. Jacqueline and I regained ourselves – I did not take a moment to acknowledge the blood on the edge of his rapier – and Raphael began to walk down the aisle towards Soul Calibur. He threw his sword to the ground as though it were a useless decoy. Jacqueline scrambled to retrieve it, but I mouthed her not to and motioned her away.

Raphael stood before Soul Calibur with his arms outstretched.

"Now, Soul Calibur! Create a new world for Amy and me!"

The moments were silent. I glanced to see if the spirit sword showed any activity, but it was still. I could see – even from the back of him – Raphael's face twist in disappointment. "N…nothing is happening," Jacqueline squeaked. Raphael frowned and turned to face me.

I twitched at his piercing red eyes. "Is Soul Calibur really the sword they claim it to be?" His gaze kept flickering from my glazed yellow eyes and the shaking of my hands I tried so hard to hide.

"Yes," I said with a bow.

He faces the spirit sword again, as if a thought erupted in his head. I tried to blink away the tears in my eyes – he knew I was lying.

"Ah, yes, of course. I should have realized," Raphael stepped towards Soul Calibur, running a finger under his nose, swung the sword and all too suddenly there was a large cut over my throat and my mouth filled with blood. My voice was too gargled to scream, so I collapsed onto the floor with a grunt. I did not know how long it was till I would perish, but I kept my eyes open as long as I could. Raphael had Soul Calibur pointed at Jacqueline.

No, I will not let you kill her! I wanted to scream.

"M-master! Raphael!" Jacqueline pleaded, her arms thrown above her to beg for mercy. I could see her trembling, even through my now fogging vision. Raphael only held the sword out at her, threateningly, and just when I thought he would spare her, he slashed at her throat more aggressively than he had mine. Jacqueline collapsed to the ground, her mouth formed around the word, "Why?"

"As of right now," Raphael gazed at the blood that now stained Soul Calibur, "this world truly belongs only to Amy and me."

He turned, as if to scold us if we were still living. "So, why should the two of you, even have been here?"

Raphael looked to the ceiling. "The mistake has been corrected!" He let out the most sadistic laugh ever to cross my ears.

I have died in vain, I thought as I laid on the ground. I have died serving an evil man.

But wait – out of the darkness – was it Auguste? – running up to Raphael…No, it was shorter than Auguste. Shorter than I. Feminine. With ginger hair pulled into dual pigtails…

Amy! I thought. No – I am just hallucinating. I am already dead!

Hearing the steps behind him, Raphael turned – but he was too late to react as Amy pushed him off the edge of the floor and into the abyss-like chasm. He fell with a short scream, then I heard Soul Calibur clatter as it hit the ground also. Amy stepped towards me, kneeling over my dying body in the dress I had made with her. She dropped her rapier and pulled out a thick kerchief, pressing it against the bleeding cut on my throat.

"No, Amy!" I gargled through blood, then tried to spit it out as Siegfried had, but it spilled out of my lips and over my face. "I am dead! It is futile!" For some reason, I began to cry.

"Hush," Amy said in her emotionless, neutral voice. "You are not dying. I watched from afar – he only grazed you."

I did not seem to listen to Amy's words. "Au-Auguste! Jacqueline!" I cried.

"Jacqueline is dead. She choked on her own blood."

"AUGUSTE!" I screamed, then began coughing, for the blood clotted in my windpipe.

"Hush," Amy said again. "We have to staunch the blood."

So I sobbed as Amy knelt there, so silent and innocent, holding the cloth to my neck, gagging on my own blood. In what were only a few minutes, though it seemed like years, the blood stopped flowing and I embraced Amy. "An angel! A saint!" I wept into her red curls. I regained my character, I suppose, after realizing I would not die. "Go, Amy," I said in a hoarse voice. "Escape from this place. Forget everything…" I motioned for her to stand, and she did, surprisingly, looking at me with a half-open mouth and a sorrowful look in her eyes. "Leave me! Leave the cursed land of Ostrheinsburg! Do not let malfestation stain your blood!" Tears fell from my eyes. Amy slowly picked up her rapier.

"GO!" I said again, and she jumped, as if startled, then squeezed my hand.

"Maybe…we will meet again." She said quietly. I almost bawled at her consideration of me.

"Go," was all I said, albeit gentler. And Amy had disappeared in the darkness.

I scrambled over to Jacqueline's corpse and bawled. "My sister!" I said with a strange ring in my voice. The slit in my throat must have hit my vocal cords. Every word I spoke made it harder and harder to speak. I shakily stood to my feet and carried Jacqueline over my shoulder. I trudged out of the throne room to try and find Auguste. I saw his body laying motionless by the door of the throne room.

Unintentionally, I dropped Jacqueline's body and ran towards Auguste. I turned his body over – only to uncover that his throat had also been slit. I wept into his unmoving chest. He was the one I loved, not Raphael. How could I have ever loved such a monster? My dear Auguste…!

Hesitantly, I pulled away Auguste's mask with shaking hands. And beneath it! Auguste was so handsome, so beautiful – his hair was dark brown, his eyes amber. I could not hold myself back; I pressed my lips onto his, begging for a return. Kiss me! I wanted to scream.

I stood and threw Jacqueline's body over my shoulder and Auguste in my arms. I do not know how I did it. I began to sulk out of Ostrheinsburg, heading west somewhere. "My dear friends," I sobbed along the way, "my loves!"

Curse my luck. Now, I have lost everything. All my friends, all my family…they are all gone. Vanished. I will never see them again.

Somehow and miraculously, I ended up in the battlefield where my father was slain. The bodies had all but decayed, and all that was left were bones. Shielding myself away from the horrid sight, I limped into the stronghold that had once stood so high and mighty. It was now falling to ruins and laid vacant. I walked into the great hall and collapsed. The bodies of Auguste and Jacqueline lay next to me. I curled into a ball and wept until I fell asleep.

A sudden shaking disturbed my sleep, then a soft voice. "Marienbard?"

I am still dreaming. Either that, or I am truly dead.

"Marienbard?" The voice calls again.

Is it God? Please, oh Lord, do not take my life yet.

"Marienbard!"

I wake. Staring me in the eyes is Edwyn, his hair grey and face screwed in worry. I almost cry out in joy – yet knowing that it pains me, I wrap my arms around his neck instead. He hugs me back so tightly. "I thought you dead," he whispers in my ear. I feel his back shaking with sobs. I want to tell him to hush as Amy gently did, but all that comes out is "shh, shh."

He pulls me away. "You are but skin and bones…my dear child!" Edwyn does not say anything more. I think it is because he can't, so I haul Jacqueline and Auguste over my shoulders again. He shakes his head.

"I will carry the man…this was your friend, wasn't it?" He asks. I do not feel like answering.

"More than that, it appears." Edwyn almost reads my thoughts. "Come. We will return to my home."

Edwyn had settled in a cottage many miles away from the battlefield. I was glad, for I did not want to step foot in that nightmare again. We made arrangements that I would live with him for now on, and he whisked in a doctor to see about the slit in my throat, which had become infected and was practically poisoning my vocal cords. The doctor had stitched my throat closed since Raphael had slit it open just a bit.

The cost was that I would lose my voice. It had to be done, for after all my sins, I do not deserve to be heard.