Wings of Anemos

by HyrulianJedi

Generations ago, the Kings of Anemos took their people and fled the world, becoming little more than a myth. When myths come alive, however, Weyard's most recent heroes find themselves struggling to balance their own issues in this new world against the future of Weyard itself, learning the price some must pay to be heroes.

16. A Child's Conviction

Golden Sun: Wings of Anemos

Chapter 16 – A Child's Conviction

- \/\/ -

Ivan sat atop Jupiter's aerie, the lighthouse's beacon steadily pulsing at his back. He felt the constant, gentle surge as it pushed its power out over Weyard, spreading Jupiter's influence to the furthest reaches of Gaia Falls, and even beyond. The power made him shiver frequently as it rippled past him, enough energy to cover all of Atteka in lightning storms, yet sliding past him with barely a whisper.

The lighthouse's shadow fell over the forest to the east, stretching far into the mountains beyond. Ivan glanced in the opposite direction, gazing out at Sol as the great god slowly slipped beneath Weyard's edge. The ocean turned to fire near his departure, brilliant hues of red and orange and yellow that autumn's end dreamed of matching.

He turned his eyes upward to the deep blue sky, quickly darkening as it stretched away from the horizon. No stars had yet emerged from the darkness above, though he knew they simply waited patiently for the sun's departure. Soon they would spread across the heavens, a handful of glittering sand cast out by the gods for the fascination of mortals.

Sol's retreat thickened the shadows over the land as his aura began to fade, following its owner beneath the seas. From his seat atop the aerie, Ivan watched as darkness filled in the gaps between trees below, turning the forest into a labyrinth of wood, one that could ensnare wanderers for weeks on end. Darkness spilled out from the cracks and crevasses of the mountains, life some enormous maw stretching wide to swallow what little light remained. Even the empty plains grew dull, their colors slowly fading to the gray that would in turn give way to black.

Such darkness was abnormal, he knew. His gaze turned skyward once more, searching for the loose handful of stars that should have emerged from their slumber, yet the sky remained empty. Luna alone hung in the center of the sky, full and round, yet her presence gave no light to her child. From its normal, remote hideaways, the thick dark stretched out, devouring as much of Weyard as it could before Sol returned.

Like a black wave the shadows washed over the land, though this wave did not recede. The darkness continued to spread, turning everything Ivan could see the black of the sky above, even the rolling ocean. Soon nothing remained beneath him; even the horizon itself had vanished, melding land, sea, and sky together into one endless mass of shadow, Luna peering down from above like a terrible eye.

He could see the shadows reaching up the lighthouse, slowly climbing the bricks and devouring them in the same manner. He moved backwards, towards the beacon, knowing that it would protect him, that it would keep the darkness at bay in place of Luna's light.

When he turned around, however, he found the beacon gone, the well standing empty. He could do nothing more than stare at it in silence as the black tendrils crept over the aerie's edge, reaching out to smother everything in darkness.

- \/\/ -

Jenna frowned.

Kraden's face mirrored hers.

The old man had a convincing frown, one that rivaled her own, accompanied by a fiercely sturdy stare. The girl had practiced her art for years, capable of wearing down just about anyone who chose to test his will against hers, but Kraden possessed a stubborn determination that far outstripped hers. When she stared into his eyes, she found the immovable essence of time staring back, that which bent for no man.

Jenna felt her own determination slipping, She felt her eyes trying to slide from his, her mind wandering to the great window's map behind him, or to his bookshelves that lined the study's walls. Even her body betrayed her, an itch on her neck requiring the constant, conscious decision to keep her hands firmly on the desk, planted where she had slammed them down. She grudgingly recognized that the man would merely defeat her again, as he always did. Even Felix would lose to her on occasion, but Kraden never lost. When he set his mind on something, nothing could sway him from it.

So she stuck out her tongue and blew raspberries at him. "Fine, then. Keep your secrets."

Kraden rolled his eyes as the girl folded her arms across her chest. "You'll find out soon enough. There's no reason to go through everything multiple times. Just wait until everyone is awake."

The Valean scoffed as she spun around, striding from the room with as much haughty pride as she could muster. Only once the door had closed behind her did she drop her shoulders and attitude, looking around the empty hallway with a bored expression.

Three days. She had been stuck here for three days, though at least Felix let her outside the palace this time. She wanted more, though. She wanted to take their momentum and use it, place the Anemoi on the defensive for once. She had not even wanted to leave Contigo in the first place. The girl had waited at Ivan's house for what seemed like hours that evening, her eyes never leaving the direction of Anemos. In the growing dark, she had not seen the minute speck approaching until it cleared the hill in a warp, Alex and Isaac winking into existence before her, relatively unharmed. Their victory ignited the hope inside her; if the two of them could defeat a king so soundly, why didn't they just rush the palace to take out the other two?

Felix struck down her proposal immediately, of course, though much to her surprise, most of the others did as well, including Isaac. "That was Clotho's first real fight," he said, shaking his head. "He was a kid when Anemos left. He was powerful, really powerful, but didn't have any actual experience. He was arrogant, and overestimated us."

"You're welcome," Sheba said, looking at her fingernails.

Though she acknowledged they had far better points than her, the realization did nothing to alleviate the boredom over the next few days. They had all celebrated Sheba's return, of course, and she filled them in on everything that had happened there, but that only occupied her for a day.

Several of the boys had visited Yallam yesterday, to check on the status of Garet's armor, the first time any of them had left Tolbi since returning. She fought desperately to go, but, again, Felix intervened, sending Isaac, Garet, and Ivan instead; the former two for the experience in short-term combat armor they had gained in Colosso, vice the less encumbering light armor they usually wore, and the last for his ability to appraise the status of just about everything. Not that they doubted Sunshine, of course, but once the man started work on something, he became remarkably withdrawn, usually responding to questions with grunts. The three figured that, between them, they could probably determine how much longer the armor would take.

It seemed simple. They had left in the morning, and returned in the late evening, citing another mandatory dinner from the innkeepers. When they returned, though, their eyes were alight with excitement, yet no armor to accompany it. Jenna had waited up for their return, but Felix had told her to go to bed, as the others had, that they would discuss everything together in the morning. When she pointed out that he was staying up to hear the news, he simply reminded her that he preferred to sleep on plans and shut the door in her face.

She had blown raspberries at him, too.

Jenna frowned to herself. Isaac was still asleep, although she doubted he would stay like that for long; others, while not as impatient as her, wanted the news as well. She could probably afford to waste some time loitering. She briefly considered making a return to the roof, but dismissed the idea, not wanting to get blamed for any loud noises.

For the past few days, every so often, they would hear some resounding boom from Kraden's basement, courtesy of the toys they had brought back from Anemos. Mia had delivered a strange rod that stored Psynergy, and when a small switch was pulled, launched it in the direction the rod pointed. Kraden's alchemists had gone crazy with the possibilities, immediately ferreting it downstairs.

They tried to do the same with Sheba's tuning fork, which she occasionally spoke to someone through, but the girl gave them an hour with it before she demanded it back. The alchemists resisted, even when she threatened to bring Kraden, but finally relented when the girl threatened to bring Jenna.

Jenna had greatly enjoyed the look on Brennan's face when the others forced him to hand it back over. He had not been in Tolbi during Jenna's first trip to the lab. The others had. The others remembered.

After a long conversation with Kraden, Sheba finally agreed to give it to them for longer, recognizing the usefulness such a device could bring. Jenna still liked to think of it as a victory, though.

She glanced around herself suddenly, finding herself underground. Had she started towards the lab while thinking about it? No, she realized. This was the passage to the colosseum, not to the lab. Shrugging, she continued along the path, her mind having no better plan than her feet.

As she stepped out into the arena stands, the silence pulled the breath from her lungs. She had never been in the colosseum while it was empty, but even so, she knew that more than simple absence maintained the silence.

In several places around the arena, she could see the mangled remains of stone and wood where stands once sat, covered in their red cloth. One of the walls had shattered, stone spilling down into the arena floor, the center of which had hardened again. She could see the shattered remnants of the prison Alex had placed her in, as well as the imprint Ivan had made when Alex forced the boy into the mud.

The most notable change, however, was the black crater on the arena floor. The outer ring rose up nearly two feet from the ground, shimmering lightly in the morning sun that peaked through the slats in the eastern wall. The sparkles made the superheated glass seem beautiful, a sculpture frozen in an instant of time, but the knowledge of its origin made Jenna shiver.

"The air is still here."

Jenna spun around at the voice, finding Piers in the stands behind her. Had he been there all along? "Don't do that, Piers."

"Sorry," the man said quietly, stepping down. "It's just... It feels almost rude to speak here. It reminds me of a graveyard."

The girl remained silent for a moment as Piers stepped beside her, looking out over the damaged colosseum. A pair of birds fluttered onto the northern wall, looking down at them for a moment in the same silence, then continued on their way. "This is your first time seeing it, isn't it?"

He nodded slowly. Jenna could not think of a time the man did anything quickly, outside of situations that called for urgency. "I haven't been back to Tolbi since it happened. When I was talking to Mia yesterday, she suggested I come see it for myself. Give me a more concrete motivation to stop them." A small smile crept onto his face. "I don't think she knows me as well as she thinks."

"You tend not to let things out much," Jenna noted. "It took a long time before you opened up to us. She probably mistook your stoic aloofness as a lack of concern."

Piers turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Stoic aloofness?"

She placed her hands on her hips. "I can call you a shade less shy than Ivan, if you prefer. I think he took longer to start talking to me."

"You'll forgive my introversion, I hope," he said with a smile. "I tend to prefer my thoughts to conversation most of the time."

"That's why you were out here, huh?" Jenna asked, but turned away. She needed no response to the question. "I think I needed some of the same."

She felt him move away. "I'll leave you to that, then."

"Wait, hold on!" she said, looking over at him and shaking her head. "That came out wrong. I just meant I needed to think about things too. I'd rather have someone to talk it over with, though. Plus... You're good for talking about this kind of thing."

Piers waited patiently for her to continue, but she failed to find the appropriate words to start. He seemed to notice this, however, moving to the edge of the arena and looking out over it once more. "There's a power here. It lingers in the air, even now. Can you feel it?"

She shook her head silently.

"It's subtle, quiet," he continued softly. "You hear it in the silence, in the deep respect and fear held for this arena. It runs deep, far deeper than Psynergy. Almost on a purely spiritual level." He met Jenna's eyes, his face carefully comported in the same calmness that she found so common on him. "Death, Jenna. Death lingers in this arena, and not just from Clotho's attack. Blood is soaked deeply into these stones."

Jenna nodded. "Kraden told us that long ago, before he was born, before Babi was even born, they had real fights in the colosseum. Not like now, with the training blades, but ones to the death."

"I've heard stories," Piers said, turning back to the sand below. "In the decades that followed Alchemy's seal, as Psynergy began to fade from the world, Adepts used their lingering power to rule, and often in unpleasant fashions. I imagine non-Adepts were pitted against each other here for amusement."

"You can feel it?" Jenna asked.

"Yes." He sighed softly, looking around once more and closing his eyes. "It's not something I've noticed before visiting Prox for the first time. While we were in the town, I could feel something slightly...off in places. I didn't make the connection until much later, after revisiting some places and paying attention to the feeling, but it was of a concentration of death. Healer's clinics were the most frequent disturbances, but occasionally I would find a random one, likely from an event forgotten to the world."

Jenna closed her eyes, trying to empty her mind. She felt the warmth of coals fill the darkness, her Psynergy automatically reaching out to her, but she gently pushed it away as well. It did not hold the answer she sought. One by one, she shut off her senses, knowing none of them would be useful in detecting the disturbance Piers spoke of.

In the end she was left with simply her breathing as utter blackness filled in her world, feeling her chest slowly expand and contract. Her mind frequently tried to slip to some other sensation, but she tethered it firmly to her breathing, counting the breaths in the back of her head.

After a few moments of nothing, however, she felt the mental leash grow taut once more, then finally tear. Colorful lights began to dance along the backs of her eyelids as she became aware of the sunlight's warmth, the gentle rustling of sand across the stone, the distant shouts of merchants from the city beyond. Sighing, she abandoned her efforts and opened her eyes. "I'm sorry, I can't feel anything."

He shook his own head. "Don't be disappointed. I went a long time without ever noticing. I can't even really describe how it feels normally, either; it just is."

They stood together in silence as Jenna simply absorbed it. Though she could not feel what Piers had, the arena still filled her with a sense of unease. The glass crater gave her the impression of an eye looking out from the arena's floor, never blinking. Simply the knowledge of its history unsettled her; she needed no additional sensations for that.

"You said earlier you had something you wanted to talk about?" Piers said after a few minutes, shifting slightly to the side to move his eyes out of a ray of light.

"No, not here," Jenna said, shaking her head, tearing her eyes away from the crater. "This isn't a good place for it. Let's head back, we can talk about it later. It's not that important."

By the time Piers opened the door to Kraden's study, Jenna found nine pairs of eyes instantly look up at them. The two slid in the room without a word, shutting the door behind them.

"Jenna. Glad you could join us," Kraden said dryly, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her.

She felt her face turn red and mumbled an apology that she doubted anyone could hear, shuffling over to stand beside Sheba. The other girl nudged her gently with an elbow, grinning wide, but said nothing.

Kraden, standing in the center of the study, turned back towards his desk and gestured at the three boys standing in front of it. Jenna could not help but giggle mentally at Ivan; since getting back to Tolbi, he had insisted on keeping Dullahan's blade slung across his back. While such a weapon looked normal on Isaac and Garet, the sword dwarfed the boy's small frame. He had even forgone his normal sword belt, at least while around the palace.

Isaac and Garet glanced at each other briefly, the latter shrugging, then looking around. "Okay. So anyway, the armor's about half done," Garet said, crossing his arms. "Definitely be done within a week. Sunshine says it's difficult to work, but the guy's completely fascinated by it. He's not gonna stop till it's done."

"Do we have any plans on implementing it?" Alex asked. "Aside from 'don and go', of course."

Isaac shrugged. "Not anything big, yet. They don't realize we have it, though, which could be a big advantage. Clotho knew his way around a sword, but it was obvious he was out of practice. If we're lucky, the others will focus on Psynergy instead of physical training."

"We might consider using it as the end result of a trap," Piers said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "If we physically exhaust the kings first, then engage with the Myrtle, they may be too fatigued for a sword fight. Or we could use their overconfidence against them, goad them into a fight somewhere where their Psynergy has a benefit, such as Jupiter Lighthouse, since their perceived advantage will be nullified."

"Keep the idea in mind, and when it comes time to use it, we'll talk about it again," Felix said, then twirled his fingers at the speakers.

Garet frowned, but continued. "We've got something else to work towards, too. We've all seen blondie's sword there," he said, jerking his thumb at Isaac, "and how it amplifies his Psynergy. Turns out that's not all it does. Shorty here," he jerked a thumb in the other direction, "has got a sword that lets the holder use Jupiter Psynergy, even if the holder isn't a Jupiter Adept."

"It might just be lightning," Ivan said, frowning at Garet's name for him.

The young man shrugged. "Not important. These swords, though, are pretty much identical, other than shape, and element. One for Venus, one for Jupiter. When we talked about them with Sunshine, he got a crazy idea in his head: what happens if you forge a new sword from them both?"

A brief silence settled across the room as Jenna noticed everyone, bar Felix and Kraden, pondering that thought. Alex spoke first. "If done carefully, the new sword could theoretically control both elements."

Garet nodded. "Yep. Sunshine thinks the same thing. But he's crazy. He's thinking big. Why do it with just these two?" He paused for dramatic effect, then said, "Why not find one for Mars and Mercury, then get a sword that controls everything?"

Sheba let out a low whistle. "That'd be pretty nice. How well can it control things? Like..." She trailed off, glancing at Alex, but Jenna understood.

Isaac did too. "Not that much. It makes things much easier for your own element, but others are still pretty difficult. I tried Ivan's out earlier, and even after I got the hang of how Jupiter Psynergy works, it was still tough. Mine, though, basically expands everything I can do. Range, ease, complexity, everything."

"Is it worth combining them, though?" Jenna asked, then glanced around. "Instead of one awesome sword, we'd have four pretty cool swords."

Felix shook his head. "Not much use. Isaac's made good use of the Venus blade, and Garet could probably use a Mars one to good effect, but we don't have anyone to use the Jupiter blade, and while Piers could use a Mercury sword, he's the only one comfortable with the Trident, which is still fairly powerful, even when facing the Anemoi."

Isaac jerked his thumb at Felix. "We already figured he'd get it, anyway. I've got Prox's sword, once I figure out how it works, and Garet's getting the armor. It works out better."

"Amassing quite the arsenal, aren't we?" Hama murmured. "Before we get ahead of ourselves, though, where do we plan on finding two more of these swords? I've never even heard of such blades before."

"They seem to have been relics of ancient civilizations, perhaps from a time when such weapons were commonplace," Kraden said, gesturing to Isaac. "That was found deep in Venus Lighthouse, which has been sealed for many generations, and is the only remaining remnant of the vanished Venus Clan. Ivan's was handed to him from the spirit of an ancient King of the Jupiter Clan. It stands to reason the other two clans would have created these blades, as well, and if we're lucky, they might still hold them."

Jenna's eyes drifted back to the sword poking over Isaac's shoulder as Kraden's point became clear. "Could that one be the Mars blade, then?" she said, pointing at it.

Isaac and Garet shook their heads together. "We already checked it," Isaac said. "There's something there, something powerful, but it doesn't have the same feel as the other two."

"So we need to check with Prox again," Piers said, sighing. "Well, Felix, you should have a much easier time with that than we did."

Much to Jenna's surprise, her brother glanced briefly at Piers, then dropped his eyes to the ground, remaining silent. She felt her mouth fall open at the scene, and she noticed most of the others expressing similar surprise. "What the... Felix, what was that?"

He muttered something quietly.

"What?" she asked, cupping a hand around her ear.

"I said I can't go," he said, still barely audible.

Jenna blinked once, glancing over at Piers, who seemed similarly surprised. Before either could say anything more, however, Sheba spoke up. "He promised to take me to Lalivero." As they all glanced over at her, the girl swallowed, turning pink, then continued. "I... I need to see my family right now. Felix promised that he would bring me there before we got back into the thick of things."

The silence that followed her words only served to make Sheba's face brighter and brighter, and though Jenna found her embarrassment hilarious, she knew she could not simply sit back and watch her friend suffer. "That's fine, I'll take his place," she said, clapping Piers on the shoulder. "We'll go together. Minus Isaac. It'll probably go much smoother."

"I would actually like to come as well," Hama said. "Fortune sent me to find the Myrtle last time, which worked out for the better, but I would like to see the northern wilds, too."

"You're not missing much," Isaac murmured, but everyone ignored the comment, amusing Jenna to no end.

"I'll be headed to Imil, then," Mia said, then glanced at Alex. "We will, rather. My father has a large store of things he collected from the world, and from the lighthouse, as well. We can start there."

Jenna glanced over at Ivan, expecting the boy to protest, or to join the Imil group, but when he spoke, it was not about concern for Mia's safety. "Should we be splitting up so much, though? One of the kings might be dead, but the other two will surely be out for us now."

"Don't worry, they're still sitting at home," Sheba said. "I've been talking with one of Atropos' daughters, and she promised to let me know if one of them left the city. They've got the tool down in the lab right now, so just check in real quick now and then. She knows you guys might be using it, too."

Alex frowned. "Can she be trusted?"

Sheba nodded. "She doesn't agree with the kings, and she's a friend. I haven't told her where we are, though. She's specifically said she doesn't want any details like that."

"Don't worry, Prince Sheba's got us covered," Garet said with a wide grin.

"For the gods' sakes, Garet, I told you, the royal titles are gender-neutral!"

- \/\/ -

The door shuddered as Mia's foot slammed into it, tiny specks of dust ballooning into the air. She watched them through the lantern's light, then handed it to Alex, eying the side of the door. She knew it always tended to stick after being shut, and it had not been touched in years. She could feel the permafrost settling in around the frame, bowing it slightly, but thawing it would only cause stability problems.

So she stepped back, then lashed out with her boot again, striking it solidly next to the handle. The whole frame rumbled this time, causing more dust to drift down from the stone ceiling. She had no fear of the chamber collapsing; the sanctum above had been built to last, and she had seen firsthand just how reliable Imil's frozen soil could be.

"Are you sure you don't want me-" Alex began, but Mia shook her head sharply.

"No," she said, cutting him off. "This is my sanctum, my door, and my responsibility. I'm fine." Taking a deep breath, she kicked the door once again.

This time the frame relinquished its deathgrip on the door, allowing it to swing open and crash into the opposite side. Mia winced, hoping there had been nothing fragile behind it, took the lantern back from Alex, and stepped inside the dark storeroom, holding it aloft.

It seemed a lot smaller than she remembered it, though to be fair, she had not been in the room for nearly ten years. Not since her father had passed away. She could not recall him ever opening the door to remove anything, only to put something new inside. Nothing had ever left the room besides him, as far as she knew.

"Can you see in here?" she asked.

Another light flickered across the darkness from behind her as Alex lit his own lantern. "Hah. No, but I can see why your father never let me in here. Can you feel it?"

She turned around, finding him standing just inside the doorway, eyes closed. "Feel what?"

The man did not answer at first, taking a long breath through his nose. "This room is full of Alchemy. So many things here are resonating with Psynergy, thrumming with power. It's...astounding."

Mia quieted her mind, reaching out with it instead. As soon as she moved her attention towards it, she immediately picked up on the sensation Alex spoke of. All around her, she could feel things. She pushed her mind towards them, trying to feel them out as if they were items hidden beneath a cloth, but found herself unable. They evaded description or identification, simply continuing to exist on the edges of her senses. She thought of a creature, sitting silently underwater, only visible by the trail of bubbles it released to the surface.

"You're right," she murmured, then shook her head, glancing around. She hoped for the glimmer of firelight on steel, and while she received no such sign, she spotted her target anyway. "Here. Over here."

She stepped towards a table along the far wall, various weapons all laid out on it, covered in varying layers of dust. Glancing down at the edge, she saw four small disturbances in the thicker dust, though they had been covered with a layer of their own to hide them. She reached out slowly, laying her fingers into the imprints, finding them slightly wider and larger than her own.

Pulling her hand back, she moved her eyes across the table. She could see several swords and daggers, varying in their lengths, as well as a few axes, and even the head of a halberd, removed from the staff that once held it. Before she could examine any of them in length, though, her eyes fell on the piece of paper lying in the center of the table, folded and resting across a pair of sword sheaths. The only marking on the outside was her name, written in the small, neat handwriting of her father.

Again she thrust her lantern into Alex's hand as he approached, turning back to the table and picking up the paper without a word. She hesitated briefly, gingerly touching the name on the paper, as if she would wipe it away should it be an illusion. She felt Alex become still beside her, holding his lantern up for light, so she opened it. The same handwriting filled the inside.

Mia,

If you're reading this, then I've already joined your mother at the feet of Coatlicue (and far earlier than I would have liked), because you're too well-behaved to sneak in here otherwise.

I don't know what brought you to this room. I hope it's nothing more than a simple curiosity about the things I've found. If so, I beg you: leave now, shut the door, speak of it to no one, and open it only to lock something inside.

The items in this room are dangerous, each and every one. They are not toys, nor ordinary items, no matter how much they might seem it. I've felt the power hidden within each one, and I'm sure that if you try, you can too. I'm no longer in any position to tell you what to do, so I must hope that I've raised you to make the proper choices on your own. I highly recommend treating this room in the same way I have: as a prison.

I cannot possibly predict all the things you might see or experience in your life, though I hope they are varied, and good. If you feel the need to remove anything from this room, all I ask is that you give it the consideration it warrants, and that you treat it with the proper respect. Do not take anything here lightly.

I apologize for not telling you these things in person, but our lives are not always meant to be long. Your mother was a vibrant soul, far too bright for Weyard to handle her for long. If you're reading this, then evidently, she passed on too much of her radiance to me, and my candle has burned up.

Know that I will always love you, Mia, no matter what. I always hope I get to see you grow into a beautiful woman, but even if I don't, I can imagine it well enough. Regardless of where life brings you, I'm sure you will handle it as best you can - and that's all any father can ask for.

I love you, my angel.

Always.

Mia continued to stare at the letter for a long while in silence. She read through it again, slowly, savoring every word her father wrote, her eyes tracing out the crisp flow of his letters, hearing the words in his voice. She found the mention of her mother odd, considering how little he ever spoke of her. After a moment, however, she realized he had no reason to speak about her. Mia had never known her, the woman having died in childbirth, though she knew her father treasured her. The few times she entered his words for more than a short mention, he ended the conversation with wet eyes and a morose expression.

After her fourth time through the letter, she gently folded it back up, sliding it into her thick robes for safekeeping, then refocused on the table in front of her.

"Mia?" Alex asked quietly. "Are you alright?"

"Nothing that can't wait until later," she said firmly, keeping the thoughts of her father at bay. "We have work to do."

He studied her in silence for a moment, then nodded, turning to the table as well. He handed Mia's lantern back to her, then reached out over the weapons. His hand hovered above the various sheaths for a few seconds, then moved on to the next without a word. Only once he had paused at each one did he reach back and pull one sword from the table.

"Will that work?" Mia asked.

Alex nodded. "Both this and that dagger," he gestured with the pommel, "have an inherent Mercury signature. I would think this to be more useful in our case, however."

Mia nodded in reply, looking back at the table again. She held out her hand to the dagger Alex had indicated, feeling the faint sense of Mercury emanating from within. Gently laying her fingers onto the handle, she could feel the dormant energy inside, rather different from an alchemy tool. Instead of the near-silent whispering in her mind, asking for use, she felt another presence entirely, as if something lived within the blade. It stood still and unmoving, poised for her command, its very presence giving the weapon weight.

She picked the dagger up gingerly, turning it over in her hand once, then replaced it. Her eyes moved to the next weapon, her hand following them to the long, slightly curved blade. The sheath shone red in the firelight, and within seconds she could feel the Mars energy within the blade.

"Alex, what about this?" she asked, shifting her hand to pick it up. Without warning, a manacle of ice suddenly formed around her wrist, jerking both her hand and arm up and away from the table, forcing her onto the balls of her feet.

Alex appeared by her side a moment later, his eyes wide. He placed a hand on her arm and the ice vanished, allowing him to guide it back down gently. "Don't touch it," he breathed, his gaze flickering to the sword. "Not with your bare hands. Preferably not ever."

Mia drew her hand to her chest, unconsciously clenching and unclenching it. "What is it? Can we not use it?"

"We might be able to," he said, then shook his head. "I will not risk it, though. I've seen blades such as that before, tainted with blood and hate. Those who hold them always wind up slain in horrifying ways, and I would not count on any smith short of Daedalus himself to remove such a stain."

The woman glanced back at the unassuming blade, then turned her back on the table. "We have what we need. Let's leave."

Alex frowned, looking to the side. "We do, I agree...but despite the danger some of these might hold, I think we should at least look through. There may well be useful items here."

"At what cost, though?" Mia asked. "If you are right, taking that sword might have destined me to an early death."

The man patted the other sword, now slid through his belt. "But this one is merely a danger in the wrong hands. I believe many of these items are the same: held here to prevent them falling into unsavory hands, for fear of the damage they might cause. Now, though, our hands need as much damage as we can find."

Mia frowned, but said, "Alright. Don't touch anything without being sure of it, though."

Alex turned to her with a smile, opening his mouth for what she suspected was a sarcastic remark. When he saw her expression, however, the smile fell, and he nodded. "Of course."

She followed him as he explored the small storeroom, their pair of lanterns filling it with light. The table to their left held more weapons, though a few assorted pieces of armor sat along the edges as well. Mia could see a pair of boots, a pair of greaves, and a lonely gauntlet. She peered underneath the table, wondering if the other had fallen, but found nothing. Alex passed his hand over everything, but made no comment about them, nor about the suit of armor resting in the corner.

A series of shelves stood against the other wall, holding a variety of random items. Mia could see jewelry, books, a folded piece of cloth, and even what appeared to be the skull of some horned animal. All lay under the same coat of dust the weapons had, muting the colors completely.

Alex started at the top, running his hand over the jewelry in a quick pass, then returning for a more thorough inspection. As he cleared some pieces, he picked them up, merely holding some, while applying a small amount of Psynergy to others. The first few did nothing, but on the fourth ring, a gray cloud sprayed out. Mia immediately held her breath, fearing the worst, but Alex waved his hand and the mist dissipated. "Nothing to worry about," he said with a smile, placing it back on the shelf.

He passed over the next couple, then tried another ring. A white light suddenly filled the chamber as he did, searing Mia's eyes. She flinched back, threw up her hand reflexively, and yelped more from surprise than pain. The light immediately faded, though the afterimage lingered on in the now-dim lighting.

"I apologize," Alex said, rubbing his own eyes with the hand that still held the ring. "I hadn't quite expected that either." He blinked a few times, then looked down at the ring thoughtfully. After a moment of consideration, he held it out to Mia.

She glanced at the ring, then at Alex, one eyebrow arching sharply.

The corner of his mouth tweaked up into a small smirk. "I would never dream of doing such a thing in a basement, Mia."

Her own smirk mirrored his as she took the ring. "No, I suppose you value style too much for that." She slid the ring onto her finger, once again feeling the faint whisper of an alchemy tool. She held it low, placing her body between it and Alex, and fed it Psynergy, looking up before she did. Another brilliant flash of light filled the storeroom, quickly stifled as Mia wrapped her hand around the ring's jewel. The gaps between her fingers shown a brilliant red as the light tried to squeeze out, making the woman feel as if she were holding the sun itself.

She cut out the light, a bit disappointed that she could not control the intensity of the illumination, but still recognized its usefulness. Moving her hand next to the lantern, she found the ring held not a single gem, but three: one red, one blue, and one green, fit together into an oval and nestled atop a silver band.

A sharp intake of breath made her look up once more. Alex's hand had hesitated over the cloth on the shelf, though his eyes were fixed upon one of the books near it. His hand shifted to it, then pulled back slightly, as if he belatedly remembered his promise to Mia. He paused there for a moment, then pulled the book from the shelf, setting his lantern down to turn it over in his hands.

Mia held her own lantern up, peering at the book as well. The cover was a deeper black than any she had ever seen. It surpassed that of the night sky, so dark that she could probably have picked it out on a moonless, starless night. Thin, vivid red lines, their vibrancy unmarred by the layers of dust, etched out a series of letters in a language Mia had never seen. "What is it?" she asked.

Alex brushed one hand across the cover gently, his fingers tracing out a few of the letters. "This is... It holds the secrets of a tribe that lives in the heart of Gondowan. I thought it nothing more than a myth, but this... I can feel it. This is more than just a book. This is the Tomegathericon."

She glanced at the book again, but saw nothing special about it, nor could she remember ever hearing about it. "What sort of secrets are supposed to be in it?"

He turned to look at her, firelight flickering in the reflection of his eyes. "Secrets about the boundaries between life and death."

A chill ran down Mia's back, settling into her lower back and reaching into her stomach with cold fingers. "Alex... Is this about..."

"Yes," he said immediately, glancing down at the book again. "This book might tell me how to bring her back, even without the rest of the Golden Sun." He ran his hand across the cover again, then slid the book under his arm and picked the lantern up once more. "Of course, that is simply my personal interest in the book. There are said to be secrets of Psynergy in here, unknown to modern times, utilized only by the tribe."

Mia looked at him skeptically. "And you think they might be of use?"

Alex shrugged. "I've heard few details beyond that, but given the range of techniques we have seen Psynergy capable of, I am certainly willing to find more."

She frowned, wanting to find a flaw in that logic, but could not. "Do you... Do you really think that Marie should be brought back?"

"She was robbed of her life," he said firmly. "If you or I were to die now, it would be tragic, to be sure. But what right did Charon have to take her? She had not lived in this world." Mia could hear his voice shift slightly, sounding slightly sullen. "While few can claim to fully experience life, she never had the chance to even partially experience it. Five years is nothing, Mia. Nothing."

"I'm not saying it was fair," she said gently, laying her open hand on his arm. "But you know as well as I do that death never is. We devoted our lives to the respect of that barrier, to trying to stave it off for as long as possible, but some things always fall out of our control."

"And sometimes, just sometimes, things fall back into it," he whispered.

Mia stood silently for a few minutes with him. To bring the dead back to life... It just seemed wrong to her. She held no delusions that the gods had taken Marie for some purpose; she found such an idea silly. People died all the time, and as unfortunate as it was, in times of sickness, children were some of the first to succumb.

Perhaps it was simply her perspective. She had no siblings to lose as a child, her mother had died without her ever knowing, and her father died over the better course of a year, long enough for her to grow accustomed to the idea. Death had always been part of her apprenticeship, too. Her father imparted on them both early on that not everyone could be saved. It had taken time to adjust to that line of thinking, of course, to desensitize herself to the loss of someone she knew, but it came.

She always thought it had come for Alex, as well. She knew he carried the pain of the girl's death with him, of course, as did she, but as a memory, not a motive. Had her death simply struck past the barrier they had built up? Had it come too early for him to properly deal with?

She had no idea. Alex guarded his inner thoughts too well for her to make any strong guesses. She knew well his incredible strength of determination, however. He had shaped the world itself for his sister, at least in part. Could she really talk him out of something like that?

"Come on," she said at last. "Let's go. I don't think there's anything else here for us."

Alex glanced around the room one last time, then nodded. "I agree."

As she locked the door, dropping the key back into one of her pockets, Alex moved towards the stairs, looking back down at the book. The question she should be asking herself was not if she could, she realized, but how.

- \/\/ -

It did not snow in Lalivero. According to Kraden, the last snowfall in the area had been during the long, cold winter that preceded the Great Flood. The world had been covered in catastrophes in that time; earthquakes tore land and threw it into the sea, volcanoes turned islands into piles of smoke and ash, countless coastal villages vanished in the wake of hurricanes, and droughts revealed lake beds so deep they had never been touched by man.

Kraden theorized the events had resembled the rumbling of one's stomach, that Weyard had been trying to shift its limited nourishment around to make it last longer. Had the removal of the elemental stars from Mt. Aleph's sanctum not triggered another such wave of worldwide disasters, Kraden speculated they would have occurred regardless, though perhaps a few years later.

The severe upheaval had caused strange weather patterns across the world, from twisters touching down in eastern Angara, to blizzards in central Gondowan. Suhalla had received nearly a foot of snow, something that few of the inhabitants had ever heard of, much less seen. Many of them saw it as a sign of the apocalypse, according to writings from the period, pulling the various small farming communities together for their last days.

The world had not ended, of course, but the close-knit group that bonded remained together regardless, forming the town of Lalivero. For a few years, they enjoyed a great fertility of the receding marshland, courtesy of the heavy floodwaters, but after a few decades, the land returned to its mostly barren state. The Laliverans prayed for snow once more, desperate for another flood to follow in its eventual spring.

Felix sympathized with them, though for entirely different reasons.

He pulled at the neck of his shirt, fanning himself with it, wondering in what way Weyard considered this winter. He had stowed his leather armor in his bag before leaving, knowing it would likely be unnecessary, but even so, he felt the heat pressing in all around him. It did not merely come from the sun; broad-rimmed hats helped deal with that significantly. This heat seemed to come from the ground around him, as well, drifting lazily up from the cracks in the baked clay like water gone wrong.

In all of his previous visits, earlier this year and the one before, he had found the town hot, but not unbearable, glad for the seasonal timing. For whatever reason, though, winter had decided to go on vacation, bringing along a burning glimpse of late spring. When Sheba mentioned it became even hotter in the summer, Felix forcibly prevented himself from trying to imagine such a hellish heat.

For her part, the girl appeared to be handling it much better, though Felix supposed that if he had grown up in such an environment, he would as well. She had worn light, loose clothing as well, and though a thin sheen of sweat coated her forehead, she seemed to pay no attention to it. He noticed she did not move quickly towards the town walls, despite her obvious eagerness, and realized she was likely moving slow to compensate for the heat.

He focused on his own movements, trying to minimize them and the effort he used, but felt no real difference in either his movement or the heat, so he focused his attention on his surroundings instead.

His first trip to Lalivero had been disastrous. Not only accompanying the people who merely blasted through the town's minor defenses, but with their revered child in tow, he often wondered whether the Valeans or Laliverans would hate him for longer. Sheba had apparently convinced her mother, at least, that he had no ill intentions, but after his most recent visit, he wondered whether that protection would stand...or if they would allow her to leave again.

Not that they could stop her, of course. He glanced over at the girl again, though she seemed to be walking in an oblivious calm, enjoying the simple pleasure of being home once more. Beneath her delight, however, he felt her resolve. If anyone tried to stop her from leaving, she would simply teleport out of the city.

Assuming she decided against a display of Psynergy to threaten her way out, or convince them of her safety. She had been picking up a terrifying number of habits from his sister.

As they approached the town's gate, Felix watched the guards' expressions shift from light interest to sudden joy to silent horror in one fluid motion. One turned towards the town and shouted something, and in less than a minute, two more men and a woman appeared in the gate, all brandishing weapons.

"Great," he muttered, suddenly regretting he had worn his sword. Without his armor, it stood out significantly more, and it would have been just as easily accessible strapped to his bag. After a moment's consideration, however, the regret vanished. He would hand his coins to Charon personally before he allowed himself the chance to be caught off-guard again, unable to defend Sheba.

He felt Sheba bristle beside him, an irritated scoff coming from her throat. Before he could say anything, she strode out in front of him, her jaw set. Once they had reached a comfortable speaking distance, she stopped, eying the five people now pointing weapons in their direction, all deliberately avoiding the girl. "Excuse me. Do you mind?"

The guards glanced at each other briefly, before one said, "Ah, Sheba..."

"Felix is my guest," she said firmly, placing her hands on her hips.

"But your father-"

"You will let him in," she said, and Felix found himself suddenly curious how this would play out.

The other guard tried his luck. "Faran has barred entrance to him."

"I don't think so." Rather than continue the discussion, Sheba began walking forward again.

The guards exchanged nervous glances again, evidently unsure of what to do. Felix counted on their indecision and fell into step behind Sheba, hoping her firmness would get them through. He had not missed the furious looks that flew his way.

One of the guards decided he trusted Faran's judgment over Sheba's. Felix found it difficult to blame him, despite his frustration. Despite Sheba's unusual standing in the town, she was still just a young girl. He had no doubt that the townspeople had encountered her stubborn attitude just as much as he had.

What they had not encountered was the powerful determination that hid beneath it. The guard on the right stepped in front of her, holding his spear sideways to block passage. "He can't enter. I have my orders."

Sheba stopped and looked up at the man, her hands returning to her waist. "Move," she said quietly.

The guard held his ground. "I can't allow him to-"

The girl waved her hand. A gale howled from nowhere, kicking dust and sand up into the air, stinging at Felix's face, but the brunt of the wind struck the guard. It shoved the man aside in the way Sheba herself could not, sending him tumbling down onto the cracked ground. Sheba turned her head to the others, who parted for her, pulling their weapons back, then continued into the town.

Felix cautiously watched them as he passed, praying none of them would attempt anything; any violence from Sheba could be smoothed over in the town, but any by him would be remembered for a long time.

Once they had passed the gate, he stepped up next to her. "That might not have been the best idea," he muttered.

"I don't care," she snapped. "He was irritating me. I'm not letting them treat you like that."

"I'm just saying there were other ways to handle it," he said calmly, recognizing the anger filling her all too well. Perhaps that was how she dealt with the heat so easily. "Attacking someone friendly to you is never a good idea."

She snorted. "That wasn't an attack. I pushed him aside. He'll live."

"It would have been better to-"

"It's done, Felix. Drop it," she said shortly.

He did. She had moved past rational action or thought and would not listen to him, regardless of what he said. Her determination had receded, leaving her stubbornness to linger on. He only hoped he could try and mediate for what he knew would come next.

Faran had called for his banishment from Lalivero. Sheba's father. Felix had never met the man, only Sheba's mother, but evidently he had not taken as well to his daughter's explanations. Which, in turn, would lead to her not taking well to his. His very presence had created a schism between the two, and given Sheba's recent family issues, if he could not patch it, the girl might never recover.

He stole another casual glance at her. She tried so very hard to be strong, to put on a tough front. They all did, at some point or another. When they had first met in the desert, they found her hiding amongst the rocks from one of the massive lizards that inhabited the wastes. She thanked them politely for saving her, then asked if they could help her to Lalivero. Saturos initially opposed the idea, not wanting to be slowed, but it was Menardi who convinced him otherwise, on the condition that Sheba keep up.

The girl did so admirably, though Saturos' usual pace slowly wore her down. Felix helped her along then, earning a weary smile in thanks from her before she shook herself off and resumed the march alone. By the time they reached the desert's end, however, their plans had changed: she was a Jupiter Adept, after all.

Upon receiving the news that she would not be free to leave them, Sheba fixed them all with haughty stares of indignation, demanding her release. She held her head high, refusing to show them any fear, though during their long periods of silence, Felix could see the shadow of anxiety crossing her face.

Anger was her only means of letting people know her inner pain. She had no idea how to deal with it any other way, so she pushed it aside, fiercely guarding her fear and weakness like a wolf and her pups. If she were to bare those teeth at Faran...

As they neared the house, Felix could feel Sheba hesitating. Her steps slowed to a shuffle over the course of a minute, and the girl continued to look all around her, unable to keep her gaze focused on her house for any extended length of time.

Their approach must have been noticed by someone inside. Felix tensed up when the door flew open, as did Sheba, but Javen hurtled through the doorway towards them, his face split into a massive grin. Dust kicked up behind him in a thick cloud as he ran, barefoot, across the sands. Felix admired his bravery; he would never dare to touch that sand in the day, not with bare skin.

"Sheba!" the boy shouted, leaping the last few steps at her. She caught him roughly, stumbling back a few steps, but kept her balance as she pulled him tight. "I can't believe you're home!"

"I missed you, buddy," she said quietly, her face pressed into his shoulder. "You have no idea how much."

"Not as much as me," he murmured back.

Sheba laughed, and Felix could see tears in the corners of her eyes. "No, I bet it wasn't."

Zahara appeared in the doorway next, relief flooding her face. She paused long enough to shout back into the house, then moved out towards her daughter as well. Sheba set Javen back down, much to his disappointment, embracing her mother next.

Javen looked over at Felix, staring up at him in silence, his face expressionless.

"I told you I'd keep her safe," he said quietly.

The boy answered with a grin, brushing his sandy hair out of his face, but before he could actually say anything, another cry of "Sheba!" cut across the yard.

Faran stepped out from the house, moving towards them as well. Felix could easily see the joy in his face, though it flickered briefly when he glanced up at Felix. In an instant he had returned his gaze to his daughter, though, scooping her up into his own hug when Zahara stepped back. The girl held him tightly, but when he set her down, she took a cautious step back. "Why did I have trouble bringing Felix here?"

He glanced up at Felix once more, though he held his expression steady that time, then said gently, "Sheba, why don't we go inside and talk about this?"

Felix could nearly feel her temper flare up once more, though he supposed it had merely been hidden beneath her joy. "No. You owe him an explanation, too. Do you know what he went through for me?"

This was heading in the exact direction he had hoped against. He had an idea why Faran had taken the actions he did, and he understood them, but if this continued, Sheba would not. She would see it as choosing sides between himself and Faran, and in her current state, she would choose Felix. Given her encounters in Anemos, however, he knew he could not allow her to make that choice, even subconsciously. "Sheba, don't worry about it. I have a history here, so it's only right for him to be suspicious."

She turned back to him, doubt on her face. "But that's no reason to-"

"We'll work it out between us," he said, cutting her off. "Spend the night with your family. That's why you're here."

Sheba frowned. "What? Where are you going?"

"I'll stay at the inn," he said, gesturing vaguely behind him. He had no idea where it was, or if they would let him stay, but she had no need to know that. "You need to see them, and I'll only get in the way of that, at least tonight. Take your time with them, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"But I don't want you to leave," she said quietly.

He smiled at her. "And your family didn't want you to, either. Think about them, today. Forget about me completely. I don't want to even enter your thoughts until the morning. Understood?"

She stared at him for a long moment in silence, then slowly nodded. "Okay. I'll come see you tomorrow morning, then."

Felix looked on as Javen grabbed her hand, tugging her towards the house while fervently telling her about something he had found a few days ago, and Zahara ushered them along. She cast a single glance back at her husband, who remained where he stood, then shut the door behind them.

The silence returned around the two men, both staring at the closed door. Finally, Faran turned to Felix. "That was well done. Thank you."

"She's been through a lot recently," Felix said quietly. "She met her rea- her birth family, and they were...not what she expected. She needs you all right now, more than you can know."

Faran nodded silently, pausing for few seconds before saying, "It wasn't because of your history that I told them that. Not truly."

Felix nodded in return. "I know. I put your daughter in danger when I show up, and she willingly walks into it. I understand your concern. I don't think you'll believe me, but it's one of mine, as well. One of the largest."

"I do believe you," Faran said, looking up at the beacon in the distance. "But I also know that concern is not always enough to protect someone, especially when facing such forces." He turned back to Felix. "She's my daughter, Felix, regardless of where she was born. I spend half my time worrying about her safety, the other half worrying about Javen's. Even if it's what she wants, even if I know you'll do everything in your power to protect her, she's still heading into danger."

Felix opened his mouth to say something in reply, but Faran held his hand up, shaking his head. "I know that's not your intent. And I know she's capable of taking care of herself, as both of us have seen. It's a father's concern, one that nothing can lessen or erase. Every time I can't see her, can't touch her, when the only thing of her I can hold are my memories, I worry. You represent that worry, that fear of her leaving and never returning. Not only due to danger," he added, giving Felix a look. "I know how she feels about you."

Felix coughed into his hand, feeling a slight flush creep into his neck. "Her feelings don't have anything to do with leaving here."

Faran gave him the same look that he often gave Garet. "Even if you removed them, she still might go with you, but you're a fool if you think they have nothing to do with it. She would follow you over the Falls themselves."

"To be fair," Felix said quietly, "I would do the same."

He turned to the house as a silence fell over the two like the muggy heat of summer in Vale; uncomfortable, but not unexpected. They had nothing more to say to he each other, he knew. As he watched through the window, he saw Jaden continuing to pull his sister along, staring at a gold bangle on her wrist as he did. Sheba glanced outside as she passed, flashing Felix a smile that he returned immediately.

"Come on, let's go."

Felix turned around, finding Faran a few steps away, paused while looking over his shoulder. "Where to?"

"The inn," he said. "It won't do to have everyone trying to kick you out of town. Sheba will be looking for you in the morning, and..." Faran trailed off for a moment. "And tomorrow, we'll need to put this issue to rest, one way or another."

- \/\/ -

"No, no, spread your hands a little more," Garet said.

Ivan shifted his grip on Dullahan's sword slightly. "Like this?"

Garet shook his head. "Wider. You want your rig- uh, left hand up underneath the guard, but the right down near the bottom. Like this," he added, shifting his own sword to his left hand and demonstrating.

The boy followed his lead and frowned, looking down at his hands. "It feels weird."

"That's because you're used to smaller hilts," the redhead said. "You can't swing a long sword the same way. You need momentum. That's what the hand at the bottom is for."

Ivan looked at it for a moment, then nodded. "To use the length as a lever action."

Garet stared at him. "What?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, turning slightly red. "I got it. The hand under the guard is for control, then, right?"

"Yep," Garet said. "You can shift as you get a better feel for it, to adjust between more power or more control, but that's the best grip for now. Give it a few swings, get a feel for it."

He made sure to back away from the boy first, knowing firsthand that a few of those swings would go wild and throw Ivan off-balance. Memories of his own sword lessons from his father came rushing back in a wave of nostalgia, including the time Isaac had nearly taken his head off. While Garet had been handling axes for years and was used to the momentum of a two-handed swing, Mrs. Chayan had firmly refused to let her son handle one.

"With my luck, you'd inherit your axe-handling skills from your father," she always said, before heading off for wood herself. Even before the storm, when her husband had all but died, she had always been the one to wield it.

Ivan had certainly grown stronger over the past year, in more ways than one, but Garet knew it would not be enough to wield the blade effectively. He could swing the sword, certainly, and likely had enough strength to control it well, after some practice to grow accustomed to its weight. To use it in a fight, though, Ivan would need even more, else his endurance would give out in barely a minute.

Though the boy had come to him for lessons in heavier blades, Garet now found himself running through various strength-training regimens in his head, Ivan's practice swings having slipped from his mind almost entirely, though he did automatically step back when the Jupiter Adept stumbled forward once.

Not until Ivan had nearly reached him did Garet suddenly snap back into focus, finding the boy staring at him in concern. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you were okay," Ivan said, stabbing the sword into the ground while raising an eyebrow. "You looked a bit distant."

"Yeah, sorry, just thinking about some things to help you with this," Garet said, gesturing to the sword. "Why are you so suddenly interested, though? You've never really cared before."

He shrugged, scuffing one of his feet on the ground lightly while looking down at it. "Dunno, I just...wanted to learn something new, I guess."

Garet stared at him. "Cut the bullshit, Ivan. You suck at lying."

The boy frowned, but looked up. "I... You weren't there, in Contigo. When we fought Aeshma..." He shook his head slowly. "I don't want to be weak, Garet. I'm afraid of what will happen if I am."

Garet blinked. That was his reasoning? "You're an idiot." Before Ivan could launch a protest or question from his open mouth, Garet cut him off with a sharp swing of his hand. "You think you're weak? Are you serious? Shut up, I don't want you to answer that."

The Valean paused, then sheathed his sword and placed his hands on his hips. "Ivan, when we met, I could barely tell you apart from a little girl. When I ruffled up your hair, you could have passed for Isaac's little sister."

"Yes, and I remember half of Bilibin thinking the same," Ivan said flatly.

Grinning, Garet said, "You didn't just look like a girl, though. You were quiet, shy, and let people walk all over you. You were scared of your own shadow. You could barely make more than a gust. Now look at you." Garet began to walk slowly around the younger boy. "You've faced down dragons and nightmares, bringing down Thor's wrath on their heads. You've stood your ground against people way more powerful than you, while knowing it. You don't even look that much like a girl anymore."

Ivan rolled his eyes. "Thanks, my masculinity is restored."

"My point is," Garet continued firmly, "you're not weak, so cut it with the self-doubt. So you lost a fight. Big deal. Alex did too, and he's a hell of a lot stronger than any of us. So you're a bit stringy and fight with a toothpick. Whatever, I've watched you dance circles around Isaac in duels. It's pretty effective."

"Maybe," Ivan said, "but your way of fighting is still better."

Garet stepped towards him and poked the boy in the chest. "No, I'm just better. Get it right. The style doesn't matter, it's how well you can use it. I'm big. I'm strong. Like a dog. Why wouldn't I use that to my advantage? You're more like a cat. When was the last time you saw a cat chase after something bigger than it and try to overpower it?"

Ivan shook his head. "Never. They wait for an opening, then pounce." He sighed. "You're right. I just... I don't like that feeling of helplessness. I don't like having to rely on others to save me."

Garet grinned, then clapped a hand on Ivan's shoulder. "Yeah? Neither did Clotho, and look where that got him."

The boy suddenly frowned, but before Garet could ask, he said, "I had a dream the other day. You were in it."

"Woah, Ivan, I mean, I know we're close and all..." Garet said, backing away and raising his hands defensively.

Ivan made a face at him, then shook his head. "No, I think it was about the future. I saw you fighting Atropos."

Garet dropped his hands to his waist, tapping his foot thoughtfully. "What makes you think it was a vision?"

"We didn't meet Atropos until later that day."

"...Okay, yeah, that'll do it." Now Garet found a frown pulling on his mouth, a chill running down his back. He never cared for Ivan's prophecies, especially when they involved them, but he had trouble denying their usefulness. "What did you see?"

Ivan shrugged. "Not much. You were in the Anemos palace, wearing the Myrtle armor, and...you were winning. Had won, I guess. I didn't really see anything of it, just you two talking after."

Garet turned away, looking up at the palace. If it was a prophecy, then that was good news...right? It proved their plan, that his sword and Psynergy skills could overcome the king's remaining capabilities. He still had reservations about the idea, of course; they knew very little about how Atropos fought, and nothing about Lachesis. How could he reasonably compare his abilities against such an unknown?

It left a lot up to chance. Chance got people killed. There were times where fighting an enemy of unknown capabilities was necessary, of course. Lemuria had been one of them. Mars Lighthouse had been another. Knowledge of the enemy made things much more certain, though.

He had proven it before. After fighting Saturos at Mercury Lighthouse, Garet went over the fight in his head several times. He firmly fixed the battle in his mind, recalling exactly how Saturos moved, pressed an advantage, gave ground, defended his back and flanks, everything. He studied it almost every night before sleeping, not only to learn from the man, but also to learn about him, to study how he fought.

When they met on Venus' aerie, the situation had been different, of course. Menardi's presence changed his tactics, having a partner to guard him, and the lack of dampening of his Psynergy allowed him to rely less on his sword. When Garet's blade met his, though, the Valean saw surprise on the Proxian's face as the younger man fought him back, anticipating his movements so well it bordered on precognition. Saturos shifted his own tactics, of course, sliding into a style of swordplay that focused more on using Psynergy to augment his strikes, but the few moments of utter control had been there. Everything that Saturos did, Garet wanted him to.

Garet had done the same with others, though he never saw such a pure example as with Saturos. No one else who fought to kill him had been fought twice, giving him the chance to apply the learned knowledge so specifically, but with each opponent, he continued to study their movements and tactics, guessing at their thoughts and plans, trying to get inside their heads. He found it much more difficult with the bandits and ruffians they sometimes encountered on the roads - they generally relied on intimidation, not skill, so he often had difficulty determining if a particular movement had been a calculated measure or a foolish blunder.

He learned from them, too, though. He quickly discovered how clearly he could remember fights, and for quite some time. Many had faded by now, of course, though some remained, such as both battles against Saturos. He owed a lot of his skill with his sword to their fallen foe, from the form he had learned in reflection, then mastered through practice.

"You've got that distant look again."

Garet blinked, then turned to Ivan again. "Sorry, just thinking."

"About Atropos?" he asked.

"Yeah, sort of," Garet said, nodding and looking out towards the city. Thin wisps of clouds streaked across the sky, brightly lit by the setting sun. It made the city look like it was burning, the thicker clouds above those pluming upwards like great columns of smoke.

He felt Ivan move beside him, saying quietly, "I'm sure you can beat her. You're the best swordsman I know."

While he might not know how Atropos fought, Garet knew his own styles very thoroughly. He had tactics for dealing with stronger opponents, for faster opponents, for opponents with polearms or axes. It would take a supernatural being to hit him with something he had not imagined, something he had not planned for. Something like how Aeshma had attacked Ivan simply by knowing his name.

But Atropos, while powerful, was still only human.

Still. Caution.

Garet slid over, throwing an arm around Ivan's shoulders. "Maybe. I try to avoid biting off more than I can chew. Knowing your limits and capabilities is far more important than just getting stronger, because there's always someone else even stronger. Or a monster. Or multiple people. Or multiple monsters. Or an angry Jenna."

Ivan laughed, a sound that made Garet relax slightly. Despite how he often made fun of Ivan for it, he liked the similarities it had to Aaron's. Both held the high-pitched chimes of children, reminding him once again that Ivan had not yet even reached manhood. Technically.

Technically, he and Isaac left Vale as men. Young men, green men, but men nonetheless. Garet remembered how proud he felt on his sixteenth birthday, and despite how nervous he felt about leaving, he had been excited. Excited to go on an adventure, excited to prove himself to his parents, excited to be chosen to save the world...

He had been no more a man than Aaron was now.

He had difficulty picking out the exact moment that he realized it. Was it their first night in the Goma Caverns, where the echoing sounds of those that shared the darkness had kept all three of them awake through the night? Was it in the snowfields outside Imil, where he completely froze after a bear shredded Ivan's back, coming inches from killing the boy? Could it have been on their first day on the ocean, wondering at how powerless all of them felt, despite their victories?

Looking back, he believed that in that moment, wherever it might have been, he truly became a man. It had nothing to do with age, that much was obvious now, though he found it difficult to define. He simply knew it. The sensation was not the proud, back-straightening feeling he had upon leaving Vale - I am a man! - but rather, a sinking feeling somewhere in his stomach, one that came in the dark of night to question every decision he made - oh gods, I am a man.

It was not a feeling he expected anyone else would have been able to help him with, or even accurately identify. Others' opinions on whether or not he was a man now no longer mattered; the truth was inside him.

He glanced over at Ivan again. What about him? How did the boy feel about it? Had he even consciously thought about it? He had never seemed to place much importance on the label, though he did dislike being referred to as a child.

Garet turned fully towards him, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. "Well? You ready to go back inside?"

Ivan looked up at him for a moment, then shook his head firmly. "No. We've still got more to go over." When Garet raised an eyebrow, he continued. "Just because I can't use it effectively doesn't mean I can't learn to."

The grin that came over Garet's face move on its own, despite his best efforts to force it back down. "You ever heard how curiosity killed the cat?" he asked the young man opposite him.

Ivan's face mirrored his. "Don't you know? Cats have nine lives."

As Garet began to draw his sword again, though, a shout from behind him caught his attention. He spun around, scanning the grounds quickly, then realized the shout had come from down the road a bit. He glanced back to find Ivan pulling his sword from the grass and following him, so he continued towards the shout.

More shouting followed, though it sounded quieter than the previous one, with more urgency than alarm. He kicked his feet into a light jog, stepping onto the road and heading down it. He could see the guards that normally stood atop the hill crouched in the road's center a short distance away, with one shouting instructions for a third to bring bandages and more help.

A blond woman knelt between them, her hair half-dyed with her own blood. Garet could see the front of her clothes splattered with blood as well, while some of it dripped down into the road. The woman herself remained hunched over, her hair swaying back and forth with the faint motion of her breaths, obviously heavy and ragged.

"What happened?" he called out as he approached, slowing down so as not to plow them all over.

One guard shook his head. "No idea. She just came up here like this, stumbling up the road. She's barely conscious."

Whether the woman knew they were talking about her, or simply looked up at the sound of voices, Garet had no idea, but when she met his eyes, he found his sword in hand without any memory of drawing it, the blade pressed against her neck.

"Please," Atropos whispered. "Help me..."