AN: As promised, here is part 2 of Salvation. There is a brief torture scene here, but nothing to intense. Still, if your uber-sensitive to this kind of stuff then just skip over the first few paragraphs.

By the way, I'm thinking of pairing Simon with Cana. Thoughts?

Enjoy, and leave a Review to feed me! REVIEW!

But most of all, enjoy!

Chapter 5: Salvation, Part 2

Pain, fiery pain as powerful and intense as the sun itself. That was the only thing that Erza could feel.

Pain, the Obliterator, the demon that took over your mind and poisoned it with its fiery stabs and heart-stopping power. She screamed in pain as the guard jabbed his spear deeper into her eye, fire betwixt lightning shooting through her skull, ripping her apart. Tears streamed from her good eye as her screams mingled with sobs. Never could she have imagined such agony, agony beyond even the suffering she had already suffered. And yet here she was, in pain's gruesome embrace.

"That's right you little whore, scream for me!" snarled the guard in an ugly tone as he withdrew his spear. Erza felt the pain in her skull lessen immensely, and she silently praised whatever Gods there might be for such a small blessing. The pain still burned, but it was decidedly less so. She let out an involuntary breath of relief at the lessening of the pain.

Big mistake.

"Oh, you think you're getting off easy mini-bitch?" hissed the guard as Erza's betraying breath escaped her mouth. Erza froze in horror at her terrible mistake, and whimpered slightly at the knowledge of how much it would cost her. The man snickered, finding her fear amusing. A smile of sick delight crawled over his face as a truly evil idea spawned in his mind. "That's right you little fuck-cunt. Be afraid. But do me one little favor." He snarled as he knelt down in front of her. "Scream for me baby."

With that he drove his thumb directly into her damaged eye-socket.

Erza did scream, a loud and shrill sound that rang in the small room. She screamed from the bottom of her soul in pain and humiliation. The pain exploded inside her skull with terrible force, the humiliation of being broken yet again fueling the volume of her wail. At that moment even a banshee would have looked at Erza Scarlet in envy at the truly heartbreaking sound that echoed forth from her mouth.

To the guard it was as sweet as mother's milk. The man, who was named Ibex, had been hand picked out of the bingo-book of criminals by the Prophet Ghirahim himself as torture master, to preside over all prisoners that the Demon Lord needed special attention paid to. When a prisoner was particularly rebellious, they were sent to Ibex for "discipline". When Ghirahim needed information, they went to Ibex. And always, without fail, they talked. They always told Ghirahim what he wanted to know.

Anything to stop Ibex's relentless "games" as he affectionately called them.

Ibex loved his job, and he praised Zeref whenever Ghirahim tossed him a new plaything. It made him feel powerful, invincible, whenever he had someone below him, begging for mercy like the dogs they were.

So when there was a knock at the door this night he became frustrated that his fun had been interrupted, even if was only momentary. Frustration overriding his better judgment, it might be the Prophet after all, he called back in an angry tone. "Hey assbag! This room is occupied." There was a moment of silence and Ibex returned his attention to Erza, a sick smile growing over his face once more at the thoughts of the thousands of tortures and humiliations he could subject her to. How many ways could he violate her? How many ways could he make her squeal like the swine she was?

His pants stirred at the thought.

So when the door knocked again frustration gave way to outright anger. "Zeref fucking dammit!" he spat out heading over to the door, granting Erza another momentary reprieve. "I don't care who the fuck you are, or what the fuck you want!" he snapped, unlocking the door. "I am going to make you-"

Whatever foul thing he'd been about to say was cut off as the flat of a spade came crashing down on his face with surprising force. For a moment he simply stood there, a look of mild surprise on his face at the fact that a shovel was hitting him in the face. The spade came down once more, harder than before, breaking his nose and chipping a couple teeth. With that blow, Ibex the Torture Master of the Ever-Eye Guild fell unconscious.

Jellal Fernandes smirked as the man toppled, dropping his shovel next to the fallen sadist. "Yeah, yeah, fuck you to." Sneered the blue-haired boy.

"Jellal," came the plaintive voice of Erza from the pillar she was bound to. "Jellal, is that you?" the pathetic tone of voice drew him out of his brief victory as he turned his thoughts back to his actual mission here.

"ERZA!" he cried, rushing over to her, going straight for her bindings. "Erza, thank the Gods you're okay!" he cried in barely restrained joy.

"Jellal… how?" she managed to get out through her pained mind. And it was a genuine question. How the Hell had Jellal gotten away from the Guards? Let alone gotten all the way to her?

"I kicked the guard in the balls and ran like the devil." He said proudly, glowing over the fact that he had so wounded one of the hated guards. His expression and voice became more serious as he undid another bond on his friend. "That being said, he don't have long until the guards come after us. We have to move fast if we want to get to the tunnel and the boats."

"We're leaving?" asked Erza dumbly, her mind still trying to cope with the pain signals her eye-socket was sending to her.

Jellal nodded. "Oh yeah." He said firmly, a flash of anger showing in his eyes. "We're going through with the plan, just a little improvised this time." He said firmly as he worked on the final, tricky knot. He'd give those bastards one thing, they really knew how to tie a knot. "We're going to get help and save the others as quick as we can, that's the plan, and we can do it." He grinned as he undid the final knot.

Without the knots to hold her up and support her, Erza felt the full brunt of her fatigue and her pain hit her directly in the legs. She wobbled for a moment, and then collapsed to the floor, face-first. However, before she reached the cold stone, she found herself caught into his arms, the arms of her best friend Jellal.

"It's okay Erza, I've got you." He said gently as she attempted to find her strength again. She felt tears come to her remaining eye, because she knew the words were true.

He had her, and he always would.

"Now come on Erza." He said pulling away from her. "Let's….." he trailed off, his victorious look becoming one of abject horror as he saw it. The horrible mar on her pretty face, the black and charred hole where her eye used to be. The horrible mark that was the ultimate symbol of evil, of the cruelty that this place had inflicted upon them. It had stripped away their innocence, degraded their lives, and ripped open their souls to the point of infants. Now it had ripped apart Erza's very flesh, permanently marking her on body and soul.

Erza was terrified, horrified of what this would do, horrified of her friend's reaction. She had no way of knowing how he would respond to this, how it would affect their friendship and their lives. For all she knew it would drive him away, that this knew mark upon her face would mar their relationship in some irreparable way.

She looked at him in the blurry vision of her working eye, trying to see his reaction, to watch as it morphed from his shock to whatever horrible reaction he would display. To her surprise, he was shaking, and his expression was slowly turning into that of a dark, primal fury; roiling up from the bottom of his soul.

"What have they done to you." He said in a voice of barely restrained anger. "What have those bastards done to you Erza." He said in a voice that frightened her slightly.

"J-Jellal?" she asked, fear leaking into her voice. "Jellal, are you okay?" she was genuinely worried for her friend. He looked as though he was ready to murder someone. This was beyond simply badmouthing the guards, or challenging his friends when they behaved in a less than exemplary manner. This anger was borderline murderous.

"Erza, we will make them pay." He said quietly. "We will make these bastards pay for what they did to us." He promised in his oh so quiet voice. "Now let's go." With that he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to her feet, forcing her to run with him, grabbing his shovel on the way out.

It was too late.

The moment they got out into the hallway, magic circles blazed to life on the ground, and the dread hellhounds appeared. Their milky white eyes blazing with mad hunger, their too-large jaws salivating in their hunger.

"No, no not again!" cried Jellal in a panic stricken voice. Erza also felt whatever little hope she had left in her heart die. They were doomed. Every escape attempt was thwarted, their friends were subjected to the tortures that a madman could concoct, and now they were alone, facing down an army of salivating hell-spawns.

But then she saw Jellal's face. Fear gave way to a look of determination so powerful she was surprised that the hellhounds didn't drop dead from its sheer intensity. In that moment Jellal no longer looked like an angry little boy.

He looked like a hero.

"Well, guess there's nothing else for it." He said grimly, hefting up his shovel. "We're going to have to fight for our freedom."

Fight… for our freedom.

When Link came to he was lying on his side in a small room. For a moment he could not remember where he was, or what had happened. For all the world he could have sworn that he was in his cottage, and grandmother was calling him down to breakfast. For just a split second he could have sworn that the air was permeated with the smell of waffles, frying sausage, and the unmistakable scent of fresh eggs. The warmth of his quilt seemed to be draped around his shoulders, and it should have been the all-to familiar soft feather bed rather than cold stone underneath him.

But then the moment was over, and cruel reality washed over him again.

He struggled into an upright position, striving to remember the last few hours. He remembered trying to escape, trying to divert the blame and the punishment to himself, and his little talk with Ghirahim.

"YOU ARE THE HERO REBORN YOU LITTLE MORON!"

Link sat bolt upright, his eyes as wide as dinner plates as he remembered those words. Those horrible words that rent his reality to shreds. The dawning horror as he realized that a small part of him believed Ghirahim.

There was no way it could be true, there was no possible way that he, Link Atreides, could be the legendary Hero Reborn. It simply defied all laws of nature and reality! He was the son of a farm maiden and….. apparently a powerful mage. But it couldn't be true, it just couldn't!

"Well, the Hero awakes." Sneered Ghirahim in his unmistakable drawl. Felling every cell in his body turn to ice, Link slowly turned his head in the direction of the voice. Sure enough, in the center of the room stood Ghirahim, in all his demonic glory. He wore his pleasant smile, but Link could practically feel the roiling hatred beneath the tranquil veneer. "I'm so glad that you're awake." Sighed Ghirahim dreamily. "I always love to see those final little emotions spring into my victim's eyes before they die, and yours will be particularly delicious I think."

Link felt his heart drop into his intestines and splash his organs with acid. He was going to die. Somehow he had held out some miniscule hope that he would escape with his life. Now he saw how foolish he had been, how abysmally stupid he had been for thinking that. He should have seen it in Ghirahim's eyes. This demon didn't simply hate him, this demon loathed him with everything in his unholy yet fabulous body.

Link found himself wishing that he had jumped to his death, for he could tell that whatever Ghirahim was going to do to him was a thousand time worse than simply splatting onto stone or water.

"Why?" Link managed to croak out. "Why me?" he said, his voice sounding pathetic, even to himself. It was stupid to ask, but he needed to know, why? And not just Ghirahim killing him. Why had his only remaining family been taken from him, why had he been taken to this hell hole?

Why him?

Ghirahim snickered, not really detecting the underlying questions. "Why?" he laughed, and began to strut around the room. "Well dear boy, it's simple really. I don't like interruptions to my fabulous plans. I like to get all of my proverbial ducks in a row as it were, and you my friend are an ugly little adder in the way." He turned to face Link, his full sadistic grin spreading over his face. "And I think I need to cut off the head of it, so my pretty little duckies can get to their river."

With that, he snapped his fingers, and a huge obsidian object appeared, leaning against the wall behind him in a flash of black and gold.

It was a giant obsidian crucifix. Inside the stone Link thought he could see faces, souls swirling about, screaming in torment.

It a rush of horror, Link knew what was going to happen to him. Ghirahim, sick bastard that he was, was going to crucify him.

"Ah, I see a dawning light." Mocked Ghirahim. "Oh yes Hero, I'm going to nail you to this cross and put you on display for all of the prisoners to see. You'll slowly bleed out as flies flock to your wounds and birds pick at your flesh. You will soon be nothing more than an unpleasant and unfabulous nightmare." He sneered.

At that moment Link felt the full brunt of an emotion deeper and darker than any he had felt before, than any that had ever touched him mind. Before he had only scratched its surface, touched the fringes of it. But now it came upon him with the force of a sledgehammer.

Despair. Empty, despair.

He was going to die. He was going to bleed out and become a feast for the crows and the worms. No burial, no family to wish him goodbye, and worst of all his friends would watch it happen.

There was no grief, no pain, only the emptiness.

"What's this? Giving in already?" sneered Ghirahim. "Oh you're no fun at all. Where is your fire! You're oh so fabulous spirit! I was going to relish crushing it out of you!" laughed the Demon Lord.

"Just kill me." Said Link in a voice as hollow as his own soul.

"Pardon?" said Ghirahim with barely restrained glee. "What was that? Say it a little louder."

Link looked up at him, his blue eyes dull and dead. "Just do whatever you're going to do. Beat me, burn me, nail me to your cross, I don't care. Just do it already and quit playing around." The words were true. Link was done with these games, this coy crap that Ghirahim kept spewing out.

Ghirahim shook his head. "Oh how positively droll. Whatever happened to-"

"LORD PROPHET!" cried a guard, as he pushed open the doors and rushed into the room. The guard's face was panicked, his eyes wide and frightened. He was covered in scrapes and burns, and wearing a black eye like he had won it in a barroom brawl. "Lord Prophet! The slaves, they're revolting sir! We have a full scale riot!"

Ghirahim snorted in disinterest. "Well you know what to do man, kill the ringleaders and send the rest back after a good whipping."

"It's not just a few Lord Prophet." Said the man shaking his head. "It's all of them, every single slave is fighting against us!"

Ghirahim scowled. "Who is leading this, is it a young man with blue hair?" he snarled, silently vowing to murder Jellal if he found the boy was responsible for this interruption to his plans.

"No sir, it's a little girl with red hair and an old man." Answered the guard anxiously.

'Erza! Rob!' Thought Link, joy flooding through his system that Erza was alive. 'Oh Gods, please be alright you guys!' Hope flared to life in his chest once more, and he looked about, searching for some sort of exit, some means of escape he had missed. Hope, hope was returning to his flesh once more.

"There's more though sir." Said the guard. "The old man…. He's apparently using fire magic."

Ghirahim was very still, taking deep breaths to keep himself calm. "This….. situation, must be resolved quickly." He said in a low voice.

"Y-yes sir." Said the guard nervously. "That's why I came here Lord Prophet Sir. I had hoped that…" he trailed off when Ghirahim gave him a downright poisonous look.

"You want me to clean up the mess that you cannot." Finished Ghirahim.

"N-no sir! I-I-I w-w-wanted t-to-" he never finished, for Ghirahim flashed forward, faster than thought, and snapped the poor guard's neck. Link stared, numb as the man fell to the ground, dead. This was the first time he had seen death, truly witnessed it. And he was surprised to say that it grieved him, yes grieved him, to see his enemy die like this.

True he hated the man as a guard, but no man should die like that. As quickly and mercilessly as one would put down a rabid dog. It just wasn't right.

"Bah, stupid brat." Snarled Ghirahim, waltzing to the doors. He brushed off his hands as though he had touched something dirty. "I must do everything myself."

"You….. you killed him." Said Link in a small voice.

"And?" asked Ghirahim, sneering at the trebling boy. However, the moment he saw the boy's eyes he saw that they were not filled with fear, but rather they blazed with rage, the emotion he trembled with.

"You…. Inhuman… monster!" cried Link, righteous rage pouring from every pore of his body.

"What are you, my driver's license." Sneered Ghirahim stepping out the door. "Now boy, I'm going to go kill your friends. And then, I'm going to kill you. Ta-ta!" he said brightly, pulling the doors closed.

"NO!" cried Link, rushing forward to the door. "No! No you can't do this!" He reached the doors the moment they closed, sliding to the ground, his face and hands pressed against them in despair. He was alone again, alone with a dead man. "No, please, don't leave me alone." He said, his dim moment of courage and hope disappearing.

He was met with silence, the horrible oppressive silence. He realized now that even the poisonous company of Ghirahim was better than the horrible, horrible aloneness that accompanied the silence. He felt the hot tears spring to his eyes, and the icy cold fingers of fear spread through his heart and into his mind as panic overwhelmed his senses. His breathing became fast and shallow, his vision became exceedingly blurry; whether from tears or fear he did not know.

He had nothing, he was alone once more. Once again the despair threatened to consume him. He turned away from the door, facing the interior of the room. He immediately regretted it, as the only things in the room were a dead body and the crucifix that would be the means of his death. That is, it would be once his friends were dead. He knew all too well what would become of them. He wasn't sure how powerful Ghirahim was, but he could sense power and evil coming from him, intertwined like grapevines on the arbor. All the people that Link had come to love in his time here would be killed by a monster vomited up from Hell's maw.

With nothing else left, Link bowed his head in prayer, managing to get words out between stifled tears.

"Oh Din, please… protect my friends." He chocked out. When once his prayers had come as eloquently as a bard's song now they came as strangled as an infant's tone. "Farore, please of Farore, if they do die, let them face it bravely." Link felt a tiny stirring in his soul, a real and imperceptible warmth. "Nayru, give them love in their last moments. Let them know I love them." Was it just his imagination, or was the room growing brighter? "Oni, let them do down fighting, taking as many of these monsters with them as they can." No, it was not him imagination, the room was growing brighter! And the warmth in his chest spread throughout his body, to his limbs and belly. "And Hylia…. just…. let them find peace."

And the brightness exploded into true, glorious light.

Jellal was alone.

After his failed attempt to rescue Erza they had taken her away and bound him in her stead, tied him to the pillar and tortured him with electric shocks and burns. With every blow, with every hurt, something in his heart had grown. A dark feeling of such intensity it could not be counted as merely hate. It was a blackness, a darkness that fed off his anger.

And he was always so damn angry!

Even before he had come to this Hell, he had been an angry child. He had been quick to resort to blows whenever the other gypsy boys jeered at him, laughed at him for his blue hair or his strange tattoo-like birthmark. His mother had done her best to curb his fiery temper, and while she was around he felt in control.

But now she wasn't here to keep it in check. And his darkness had grown. His hate of these men, though justified, threatened to become all consuming. Only Erza possessed the capacity to calm him down, but then they hurt her. He saw the horrible thing they had done to her, the mark they had placed on her, and he had seen red. The blackness in him grew, drawing strength from his righteous fury.

And now here he was, alone, his torturers having been called away to deal with a "little problem" leaving assurances that they would return. It left Jellal all alone in the dark of his cell.

Alone, save for the darkness.

"Damn them. Damn them! DAMN THEM!" he roared to the shadows. His eyes were frenzied, and he felt the shadows within him thicken. "I hate them, I hate their Tower, I hate them all so much!" he cried, knowing it was the truth. The shadows in his soul could be nothing besides hatred, for it was the only word for them.

"Yes, but why boy? Why do you hate them so?" came the question from the shadows. Jellal's anger and hate were so intense he failed to question the notion of voices coming from the dark. "Tell me why, tell me why they inspire such delicious fury in your heart?" said the almost mocking voice.

Jellal scoffed. "Why shouldn't I? They imprisoned us, beat us, starved us, and now…." He trailed off, the fury in his voice palpable. "Now….. now…." And he exploded. "THEY HURT ERZA! THEY'RE HURTING LINK! I HATE THEM SO MUCH! I HATE THEM!" His shouts rang out through the room, dripping with hatred.

There was silence from the voice. The silence endured for a long moment, stewing in the juices of hatred. Finally, the silence was broken. It was not broken by words, but by laughter. Laughter as deep and thunderous as the clashing of the sea against the stones. The laughter rung forth, but bearing none of Ghirahim's madness. Rather this laughter, while wild, seemed powerful and confident. The laughter of a king.

"Indeed boy, that is just cause for hatred." Said the voice, ending its mirth. "But you are weak nonetheless." Jellal felt his anger grow at the insult, and clenched his fists. "Oh yes boy, you are weak. And in this world there are the weak, and there are the strong. The strong prey upon the weak, feed off of them, and eventually become stagnant and weak themselves. Eventually those they kept down become the strong, and oppress those who have become the weak. THAT is the truth of the world."

Jellal glared at the shadows. "Then why become strong." He challenged.

The voice laughed again. "Such a wise child! But all you must truly avoid is becoming STAGNANT! You must remain strong, invincible! You must be strong, but you must always become stronger! Only then will the weak bow to you."

Jellal narrowed his eyes. He didn't know why, but the words appealed to him, raised some ancient desire within him, some ancient and dark part of him that man had lost since his days in the caves. Some primordial fear and desire culminating into a twisted lust for strength, to never be afraid again. "Who are you." Said Jellal.

For a moment nothing happened, and Jellal felt a stark fear of madness shoot through him.

But then, the shadows started to twist and mold. They became as liquid, shaping and reshaping, melting and then hardening. The darkness slowly rose, growing in strength and size. It was a huge, shapeless mass of shadows. The mass began to shift, twist, and change, taking the form of a giant man. The man of shadows stood so tall that his head touched the ceiling. Long tendril-like fingers spread from hammer-like hands. On the head, two glowing red eyes appeared, blazing like fire.

Jellal gaped at the monstrosity before him, but at the same time felt a thrill of excitement at the sight of the creature. The stench of burning sulfur filled the air, the air felt charged, as though filled with lightning. Jellal could feel the remaining light in his soul dimming just by being in this being's awe-inspiring presence, overtaken by his hate and anger. Or maybe it was the creature's own hate.

To be honest, Jellal no longer cared.

"Bask in the glory of Omnipotence," spoke the being of shadow and flame. ", for the God among Gods stands before you. His whim is your reality for the Universe is his to mold. In his veins flows the blood of infinite potential, and in his eyes Eternity is actualized." The creature loomed over Jellal, looking down on him with those fiery eyes. He transcends the Alpha and the Omega, and in his name your Gods tremble." The creature' head suddenly shot down to Jellal's eye level, holding his gaze level with Jellal's.

"He is, Demise. And if you give him your heart, he will make you… invincible."

The glorious light faded, but not completely. The room remained slightly illuminated as though by some unseen lantern. Link slowly lowered his arms which he had thrown up to protect his face from the attack he had been sure was coming. But when none came, he looked about, searching for the source of the light.

That's when he saw it.

It was a skeleton. That in itself was odd, but what the creature wore was even stranger. On its abdomen was a breastplate in the shape of the top of a bird's head, and a kilt-like garment covered its pelvis. Greaves and bracers adorned its arms and legs and a large helmet completed the odd armor set. A white broadsword rested in its left hand, and a metal buckler was secured on its right hand.

Though terrifying in appearance, the skeleton exuded an almost fatherly aura, not unlike his father's. Red flames burned in its sockets, but not frightening flames. These flames were war, loving, the flames of a hearth. A courage filled his soul, wellspring of valor he never knew he had, spawned by the shade's presence.

"Weep no longer small one, dry your tears and stand." Said the spirit without opening its mouth.

His fear gone, Link stood, wide-eyed as a child at story time. "Who… who are you?" asked Link, not wanting to sound rude. He did not see the absurdity of the notion of it even being possible to be rude to a skeleton.

The spirit raised its head, a hint of pride in its voice when it answered. "I am the Shade, the Shade of the Hero."

Link immediately felt a chill in his bones as he recalled Ghirahim's words, his accusation of Link being the Hero Reborn. Now the arrival of this…. Shade, only made the case stronger.

"So, I am the Hero Reborn?" he asked, his nerves and fear building like a tidal wave inside of him.

Heedless of Link's fear, the Shade answered. "Aye, the Hero you are."

And there it was, plain as day, out in the open. Stated by a messenger of Heaven and the Gods. He was the Hero Reborn, the warrior of legend who was destined to save the world from darkness, but at the same time forever change it. And he was it, he was the Hero of Legend.

No, no it couldn't be, it just couldn't be the truth. There was no possible way he was the Chosen One. He began to shake his head, panic filling his eyes. "No, no, no." he said, an edge of hysteria in his voice. "No, it can't be." He said again, wrapping his arms around himself, trembling slightly.

"I do not understand." Stated the Shade, shaking his head. "You have been given a great honor, a Divine Charge. Is this not a cause for celebration?" asked the Shade.

"NO! IT'S NOT!" Link screamed at the Shade, causing it to step back from Link's angry face. "No, it's not. Oh sure, it's fine to read about, but it's not good! Not when you have to face an army of demons! Or, better yet, THE GOD OF EVIL HIMSELF!" he cried, his eyes bloodshot.

The Shade nodded in comprehension. "So it is fear, you are afraid?" questioned the Shade, attempting to confirm his thoughts. Link fell to his knees and nodded. Was he afraid? Oh yes. He was scared. "Of death?" asked the Shade, a hint of indignation in his voice. Link shook his head, which confused the Shade more. It had been so long since he was alive, he had forgotten many human emotions, especially complex ones like fear. "Then why do you fear child?"

Link looked up at the Shade. "In all the stories, in every tale, the Hero is this great man, a selfless Hero. He isn't afraid of anything, not even death." Link shook his head. "And I, I'm just not that. Heroes… they don't cry." He said simply, wiping his face as a tear rolled down his face. "And I'm crying right now." He said miserably.

The Shade nodded in understanding. It had been so long since the last Age of the Hero he had forgotten that this was a common problem. One of the tell-tale marks of the Hero was the fact that they usually suffered from a severe case of inferiority. A problem made no better by the fact that the deeds of the Heroes were told in such a way that practically deified them.

The Shade sighed, or at least did the Shade equivalent of sighing. "Child, that is a very foolish notion." Said the Shade. Link looked up in surprise, shocked to see a look that he supposed would be considered stern if the Shade had human flesh. "You think the Heroes are so great that they never cried? Get that silly idea out of their head. All of the heroes were human, and therefore they all cried. I should know, I am the Hero."

Link gaped at the Shade, shocked by its statement. "But… I thought…"

"You are." Said the Shade. "But you are merely the latest in a long line of Heroes. I am the spirit of the Hero, the enduring spirit that represents each Hero, the core of their power."

Link looked up in awe. He had had no way of knowing that this creature was all of that! But if that were true, then he knew each Hero intimately, knew everything about them. Because he was them! And that meant, he was Link to.

While slightly disturbing, the idea was also incredibly fascinating. But also… comforting?

"What do you mean?" asked Link, a bit confused and a tad perturbed that his childhood perceptions of the Heroes of Old were being shattered. He had always seen them as the ultimate expression of manliness, and now the Shade was telling him flat out that they weren't, that they had been human too. "They… cried?"

The Shade nodded. "Aye, the Hero of the Sky cried when he thought he had lost the love of his life. The Hero of Time cried when finally found his parent's, as they slept in their graves. And the Hero of Twilight, he cried when his foster father died from his battle wounds, in his arms." The Shade knelt and looked Link in the eye. "Heroes do not cry because they are weak little one, they cry because they have been strong for too long."

Link stared at the shade, pondering his words. Tears were nothing to be ashamed of, it was a foreign concept to Link, and yet it appealed to him. Before, he had always felt weak when he cried, but now he understood, at least a little better.

Link shook his head. "May I ask a question?" asked Link.

The Shade chuckled. "Why of course little one." It said well naturedly.

Link looked up at him, his eyes pleading for the Shade to speak the truth. "Why me?"

The Shade sighed. "I suppose that is the only question that matters in the end." The Shade stood and walked forward, closer and closer until he loomed over Link. This close Link could feel a sort of static electricity in the air, a charge of power that the Shade seemed to exude. "Why you? Because you are a protector boy." Said the Shade as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

Link scoffed, a bitter taste in his mouth. "Yeah right, now I know you're crazy."

"Whatever do you mean?" asked the shade, a confused tone in his voice. Why were Heroes so damn hard to deal with?

Link looked up at him with bitter eyes. "Protector? You're kidding right? I couldn't protect my grandma or my sister, I couldn't even protect my friends. I'm no protector, I'm a joke."

And Link realized in that moment the true source of his grief, the true source of his pain. He didn't blame the guards, the leaders, or even Ghirahim for all that had happened. Oh yes, he knew they were guilty, but he didn't truly blame them. Nor did he blame the one's lost as many survivors did.

No, he blamed himself.

To his surprise, the Shade laughed! Laughed as though Link had told a spectacular joke and not confessed his inner feelings of inadequacy. To be honest it was unnerving, and a bit frightening.

"Pardon my mirth little one." Said the Shade after he had finished laughing. "But I simply found your statement ridiculous. If you are no protector, then why have you been able to protect you're perfect heart."

Link frowned, shaking his head yet again. He felt like he had flies in his brain! "I don't understand." He said in a resigned voice. He simply succumbed to the notion that he would have to ask this phantom to explain everything it said.

"Look at what you have suffered Link. Look at the pain and the loss. And yet you have not allowed your heart to be tainted by darkness." Link looked up at him trying to see things from his point of view. "Oh you have felt anger and fear yes, but never hate, never true hatred. Always your heart has been pure, otherwise you would attempt to blame someone else for the losses you have suffered, even though they are not your fault."

Link felt touched by the Shade's kind words, but part of him still didn't understand one thing, why was the Shade here besides give him a pep talk? Link wasn't completely sold on the whole "worthy of being the Hero", but what was the purpose of sending the Shade.

"Why are you here?" Link blurted out. The Shade seemed taken aback and Link rephrased his question. "I mean, why come now?"

"You prayed for guidance, and it was pure." In response to Link's confused look the Shade continued. "Your prayer, it was free from any selfish desire, holding only hope for others. And since the Goddesses decided that you needed help on this one, they sent me."

Link frowned. "To do what?"

If a skeleton could smile, this one did, and Link found it slightly unnerving. "You see Link, you already have a natural store of Magical Energy, but as the Hero you have another power source. You have the One Power."

"The One Power?" asked Link. Such a thing was not mentioned in any of the stories, or anywhere in the Holy Books for that matter.

"The One Power, the True Source, but most call it the Triforce." Answered the Shade.

Link's jaw dropped. The Triforce, the source of all life and magic, the tool of the Gods, and Link could use it. According to this phantom, Link could use the Triforce as a battery for power.

The thought was a tad intimidating.

"Unfortunately," continued the Shade, heedless of Link's surprise. ", your connection to the One Power, like your stores of magical energy, is rather puny at the moment. So the Goddesses sent me to give you a temporary… power-up you might say." Said the skeletal specter with same ghoulish grin.

Link felt a thrill of excitement up his spine at the ghost's words, though it felt like a drop of water against his all-encompassing shock, not to mention fear, grief, and anger.

Dear Gods, if he had to deal with any more emotions he was going to explode.

"The sun rises in the East now. While the Sun shines in the sky this day you will be able to call upon the One Power as much as you need with no negative repercussions to your mind and body." Said the Shade. "But once the sun sets in the West today, you will have to reclaim your power the natural way. But just for this day you will be able to do anything, move mountains, part seas, even bring the stars to your level."

Link stared at the Shade dully. "So, I get to be a God? Just for today?" he asked, a rising sense of courage building in his chest. If the Shade spoke the truth then maybe he could get his friends out of this after all. But still, the idea of having so much power, even if it was just for the day, was a little daunting.

Not to mention terrifying.

"Well Hero? Will you take this power? Just for this day? Do you accept the Mantle of Hero of the Gods?"

Link sat very still, trying to find the right words. He thought of the people he had lost, his grandmother, his sister, his mother and father. He thought of his friends, the people he might yet lose, his dear friends who had become his family. Here, he had the chance to prevent it, to save them once and for all.

There was only one real answer.

Link looked up at the Shade, apprehension in his eyes, but courage as well. "I do."

Sho, Wally, and Milliana ran as fast as they could, the sound of the riot fading behind them the further they ran. They were not running away in fear, Lord no, they were looking for Erick. Erick, their friend, who had been taken away to some sadistic doctor for some deranged experiment that the quack had cooked up. While Erza, Rob, and Simon led the freed slaves like two pre-pubescent and one very old Spartacuses, the three of them went off to rescue Erick and Cubellios.

"Come on guys!" cried Sho to his two friends who lagged behind him a bit. "Come on! I'm sure that they took Erick this way!"

They were currently running along a ridge behind the Tower, a perilously small ridge that overlooked the sea. Milliana couldn't help but sneak quick peaks at the crashing waves beneath them, feeling exhilarated and frightened by those brief looks each time.

But more than that it delighted her to be near the sea again. She had grown up on a boat, sailing and fishing with her parents, and this brought back every good memory she had of them.

"Come on Sho, slow down a little!" panted Wally. "We're gonna die of exhaustion if we keep this up."

"No way!" said Sho vehemently, showing an uncharacteristic amount of forcefulness. "Who knows what they're doing to Erick man! We need to get to him as soon as possible."

Milliana was impressed at Sho's recently discovered forceful side. It made her feel strong to see her friend standing up for himself, and it also made her cheeks burn for a reason she didn't quite understand. She could only assume that it was for the same reason that Erza's face turned red when Link said something nice to her… whatever that reason was.

"There! That has to be it!" cried Sho, pointing to a point up ahead. Milliana glanced from the cliffside to where Sho was pointing. Up ahead, built into the stone, was a metal doorway with a glass porthole in the center. "That has to be where they took Erick!" he said, picking up his speed.

Wally and Milliana groaned, and followed their hyper friend towards the door. Really, it was inhuman how much energy Sho had stored in his small body. "Wait up Sho!" cried Milliana, but the small blonde boy was already pulling at the handle of the door, desperately trying to get inside. "Come on! Come on!" he cried, pulling at the door with all his might.

"Um… Sho?" said Milliana from behind him.

"Guys come on! Help me open this! We have to save Erick!" he cried to them in a pleading tone.

"Sho." Said Wally a bit more forcefully.

"Damn this infernal contraption! WHAT DEMON FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL CREATED THEE!" cried Sho, straining to pull open the door.

"Sho!" shouted both Milliana and Wally together.

"WHAT!" cried the high-strung boy.

Both of them glared at him, before walking forward and pushing the door open with minimal effort. Both looked back at Sho who blushed in embarrassment. "I, uh, I knew that." Said the boy sheepishly. Both of Sho's friends rolled their eyes.

"Come on! Let's find Erick!" he cried, taking the lead once more, charging past his friends and through the doorway. Sighing, both followed him… into a hallway full of doors.

"Great job genius, now where?" Said an exasperated Wally to his short friend who was gaping at the hallway in horror.

Wally must have had a connection to the Gods, for in the next moment his question was answered by a scream, Erick's scream, from a doorway at the other end of the hallway.

"That way! Quick!" immediately the three of them ran for the doorway which seemed to loom further and further away the harder they ran, like they were trapped in a continuous nightmare. They pressed their body's harder, adrenaline and anger overriding their fear. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they reached the door and (after making sure it was a push door not a pull one) they flung it open.

The inside of the mad scientist's chamber was, predictably, a complete horror show. Even now the Minotaur's carcass was strapped to its table, and Erick was strapped to his own. Sherrick stood by one of the counters taking notes on his clipboard. At the sound of the children entering the room he glanced up at them.

The kids took one look at their half-dead friend, who miraculously didn't have a scratch on him, the mutilated Minotaur, and the guilty looking scientist, and horror quickly transformed into rage.

Sherrick gulped nervously at the murderous look in their eyes and promptly ran in the opposite direction. Wally attempted to rush after him but was grabbed by Milliana. "No, wait! We need to get Erick out first!" she cried.

Sho swallowed his own anger, knowing she was right. Wally, however, was fighting harder to do so.

"No way! He has to go down! Look what he did to Erick!" he cried.

"I agree, but Erick is our friend Wally. We need to help him first." Said Milliana gently.

Wally seemed to snap back to reality and stopped struggling. "You're right." He sighed. "Let's help our friend."

AN: Well, that was the longest chapter I've ever written. The next chapter is the climax of what I'm calling the Captive Arc. It will include character death (or it will seem to), an epic showdown between Link and Ghirahim, and Erza awakening her inner badassness. And yes, they will FINALLY reach the Guild next chapter.

Please tell me what you think in the reviews, I worked really hard on this so tell me what you think. And tell me what you think of the whole Simon x Cana thing.

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