Chapter Six – Unknown, Confused
There was an immense flash of light and Dark beat his wings furiously, rising higher above the mayhem below. He threw up his arms to shield his eyes, turning away. The light was blinding, searing. It incinerated is very being.
"Dark! Dark! What's going on!"
"Not now, Daisuke!" The Phantom Thief chanced a glance downward and what he saw left him flabbergasted.
"Dark, he's not--!"
"I know."
What he had expected to see was Krad; Krad in all his hideous glory, donned in the clothes that Satoshi had been wearing, which always made him either look too innocent or too young. Krad, with his long, golden crown of hair and his eyes of bright, malicious ember. Krad, his other, monstrous half.
But it wasn't Krad.
Miraculously it was still Satoshi that stood before the 'Mystic's' podium. His body was shaking, but it was still his body, not that of the creature inside of him. He was breathing heavily and his hand was clutching the podium for balance. He tried to loosen the taut muscles in his shoulders but growled in vicious pain. He glared over his shoulder in detest. The towering, white wings served to only weaken his already strained body, the magic they used to sprout forth having felt like two daggers ripping through his flesh.
I warned you, Krad, Satoshi thought, ignoring Krad's cries of rage and deprivation from not being released. I told you I'd stay in control.
He took in a shuddering breath and looked up.
Dark still hovered above, too amazed to descend downward. It wasn't possible for a human to suppress the pull of Hikari art, especially through the fashion that Krad did it. The magic that Hiwatari must have had to fight was probably immensely strong, so how had he managed?
"He really is bent on protecting that sculpture," Dark said to himself, staring down at the boy. An unconscious smile crossed his lips as his thieving mind swung into overdrive. "Which makes it all the more imperative for me to steal it."
He swooped down towards the sculpture, aiming vertically for Satoshi's head. The Chief Commander threw his head back to stare up into his face, his eyes burning with pain and rage.
"I said leave it alone, Dark!" He bellowed and pointed his flashlight directly into Dark's face, shining its light into his eyes. Dark cried out and faltered in flight, shielding his face from the beam. He blinked rapidly, momentarily blind, as he fumbled back down to the ground a few feet in front of Hiwatari.
"Why you--," he groaned, but Satoshi wasn't listening.
"There are things about this art that make it dangerous to the existence of mankind. Things that can harm a human's very soul." He sounded desperate as he explained, not threatening.
Dark didn't know how to deal with desperation.
"All your family's art hurts the human soul, whether it's corrupting it or, in your case, manipulating it like some parasite!" Dark lashed out the statement without emotion. The barb could not have possibly missed its target, and Satoshi narrowed his eyes.
"Aren't you manipulating Niwa? Aren't you a parasite as well? You're just like Krad."
"Don't you ever say that!" Dark's vision was clearing and he began to see the Commander clearly. He was standing erect, the wings still protruding from his shoulder blades and the oil lamp held in one hand. "I'm not like that monster! I'll never be like that monster!"
"But, just like him, all you care about is possessing The Mystic and you don't care to what it could mean to everyone else! All you think about is your stupid reputation as the Phantom Thief. Well, enough with the reputation! You can't have this one Dark, so leave it alone!"
"Stop blabbering and get out of my way!" With a powerful pounce Dark jetted directly for Satoshi.
In one, swift motion Satoshi had cracked open the oil lamp, pulling out the burning wick and splayed the oil around him in a circle. He tossed the wick onto the trail, igniting a barrier of fire between him and Dark. The Thief dug his heels into the ground and stiffened his wings, skidding to a stop before he entered the flames.
"No," Satoshi said from the opposite side of the barrier. "Not this time."
"You little bastard!" Dark jumped into the air, clearing the tips of the flames and searching for an opening past the boy.
Satoshi, consumed in his role as defender, picked up two of the lamps shards from the ground and, with trained precision threw them at Dark, both aiming for his chest. Dark was able to swerve out of range of the first one, but, instead, moved into the line of the second and caught it in his right arm.
Dark, surprised, fell back down to the ground.
"I'm not giving up," Satoshi informed him. Dark's frustration was mounting.
"I AM THE PHANTOM THIEF!" he cried, lying on his side and glaring through the dancing fires at those menacing blue eyes. "And I have never backed down!"
Without thinking of the consequences or to the strain that it would do to Daisuke, Dark raised his hand towards Satoshi and gathered his magic for the shot.
Hiwatari realized what he was doing and paled, losing what power he had commanded earlier. "Dark, no!"
But the bullet had been shot and the blast of shadowed light zoomed between them and struck Satoshi hard in the chest. He flew back, his limp body hitting the podium and knocking it to the ground, but there was no clink of broken glass as The Mystic struck the stone floor.
"Dark!"
Dark started abruptly and sat up, breathing hard. "Daisuke," he cried, searching within himself for the feel of the boy's energy. It was wavering, and he was in incredible pain from the magic. "Daisuke, I'm sorry," he whispered, angry that he was flooded with a sudden wave of shame and guilt for hurting him. "I wasn't thinking."
"Krad, no!"
Dark looked up and saw Satoshi struggling to his feet. His arm was stretched out before him, stiff and rigid, with the palm opened directly for him. The Commander was struggling with his arm, tugging fruitlessly on his own wrist to lower it.
"Krad, stop it! Stop it, now!" Dark watched as he squeezed his eyes shut, a golden light gathering before his hand. "Krad…" he was losing, and the magic Krad was mustering would be hard to dodge. Dark flapped his wings and tried to stumble into flight. "Krad…Krad…no!"
With an almighty wrenched Satoshi averted his arm upward, now aiming for the high, vaulted ceiling. There was a piercing cry and then golden rays were ripped out through his arm, flying towards the wall and striking it with a resounding blast. Dark covered himself with his wings to shield against the flying stones and debris.
"DARK! GO!" Such a note of pleading, panic and fear. It was already unnerving listening to this cold, collected boy beg; it was more unnerving to hear him plead; it was downright troubling to listen to his fear. "Hurry, get out of here! Leave!"
The Phantom Thief emerged from his feather cocoon and beat his wings, rising a few feet higher into the air. He looked up to where Krad's blast had struck the wall. There was a wide hole where the wall and ceiling had been and the damp earth was pouring in. Dark flew closer and noticed that he was staring up from the ground, the wide, evening sky displayed above him.
The moon was glowing radiantly in the heavens and it flooded the room with its beams.
Then Dark felt it. The tingling sensation of both warmth and cold traveling up from his feet, his legs, past his waist and into his very lungs. The same shimmer of magic and art rushed through him, but this time it was accompanied by something darker…something older…something crueler…
Like cold fingers, the feeling wrapped around his throat and suffocated him, dazing him and making his body feel week with fatigue. Something was happening. Something was happening that shouldn't have been.
Just when Dark turned his head to look down a blur of white rushed him, enveloping him in a swirl of white wings. Strong, human hands grasped him by his lapels and he was jerked into the tide, his body being tugged upward, chest first, as the white blur raced for the opening.
"What the hell are you doing!" Dark demanded. They were nearing the opening of the sky while below sinister and beautiful magic was forming.
"We need to get out," Satoshi called back at him. "We need to leave now."
Dark tried to pry himself loose of the boy's grip. Satoshi would have died before he let him go.
In a breath of relief mixed with frustration and disappointment, the two winged men sprouted through the opening and into the clear night. They were in a valley between some of the mountains, the Hiwatari mansion a few miles to the east.
They were alone.
Satoshi landed clumsily on the ground and hurriedly pushed Dark aside. Without hesitation, he aimed his palm towards the gaping opening in the earth and sent a wave of white light to consume it, the magic slowly sealing the hole.
Dark stared at the white light and then back at Satoshi. He was bleeding in a thousand different places, the skin exposed at his neck and collarbone were bruised. The hand that had been the puppet and portal to magic was limp and scathed.
"What was that about--," Dark began to ask, but the Chief Commander ignored him and jumped into the air again.
"Leave, Dark. Leave this cursed ground." And then he was gone, a mere angelic vision rising into the star-studded night as he made his elevated way back towards the city.
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Satoshi could feel his body draining, could feel the very last pull of life itself begin to drain from him. He was beaten and bruised, most likely in the worst shaped he'd ever been in his life. He teetered in his flight, too dizzy to pay attention to the way the wind current was carrying him.
The magic had left lingering traces of strain. Krad was still raging inside of him. The wings did nothing but make his shoulders sore. He was probably dying of blood loss, what with all the cuts and abrasions and scratches he had accommodated.
And still he had failed to protect the world against The Mystic's Dream.
The moon's rays had touched it, had bended and contorted itself in the many transparent curves of the sculpture. The damage had been done, the evil released. He had allowed The Mystic to reawaken.
Satoshi began to rapidly descend from his flight, his body crumbling and his wings waning.
All he wanted was to sleep…sleep and never wake up to the responsibilities, trials, and tribulations he would have to face for his folly.
He collapsed onto a stone surface, the sound of the sea trailing at the back of his mind.
Where was he? Where had he ended up?
Someplace where the night was filled with the scent of cherry blossoms and lavender. Where there was a glass window and pink curtains. Where the balcony overlooked a cliff and the shore.
He laid his body down on the cold stone and closed his eyes.
Maybe, by some miracle, he'd wake up in a few hours to find himself dead and at peace.
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Risa was a pretty heavy sleeper. When she was out, she was out. There were many times when Riku would be at her wit's end trying to wake her up in the morning. She was easily caught in a world consumed by peace and dreams.
But, for some reason, Risa had been sleeping lightly all night. She had crawled underneath her sheets at ten thirty, tired and worn, and from there had woken up several times during the night. Eleven o'clock; one thirty-seven; three thirteen. And then she'd lay there for several moments, either staring at her ceiling, her wall, or the glass doors that led out to her balcony. She didn't know what it was that was making her restless, but she was beginning to loath it with genuine prejudice.
Risa was never a happy person when sleep deprived.
And now dawn would be coming. Risa lay on her back, waiting for the golden rays to stain her ceiling with gradual descent. She had been lying, awake, for maybe half an hour now. She was tired, but obviously not tired enough to fall asleep. She groaned.
"Today won't be a good day," she mumbled to herself, tumbling out of bed and landing, catlike, on her feet. She straightened up, stretched, and let loose an almighty yawn. Risa gathered her hair behind her head and snatched the hair tie from her dresser, securing her brown locks off her neck. She never did like the prickly feel of her hair on her skin in the morning.
Risa rubbed her arms. She felt cold and wondered if Riku had turned on the cooler. She usually didn't mind if her sister preferred the cold climate, but Risa had been lazy the night before and had not taken the time to don her usually warm nightgown. She only wore a large shirt and boxer shorts, the loose night clothes that Riku preferred from tightly hemmed nightgowns.
She checked her clock again. Four o'clock. The sun was at least another two hours' wait away, but all the same, Risa was glad it wasn't a school day. Even with all the time to get ready she didn't feel up to the trials of education.
She strode over to her window and threw back her curtains, intending to await the morning light to blaze away her fatigue. What she didn't intend was to look down, scream, and trip over her rug as she tried to back away from her balcony in surprise.
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"Come with me, Satoshi-dono. Come with me and we'll steal through the night. Leave your world behind as you part from the light…in my dreams…you'll stay in my dreams…you'll die in my dreams…you'll never return…"
Satoshi woke with a start, his heart racing dangerously in his chest and fear enveloping him in brittle arms. He tried to push himself up into a sitting position but found the task beyond impossible. Instead he blinked rapidly, trying to focus his vision. He was staring through the pillars of a rail, the sound of ocean waves filling his ears, and the crisp cold of darkness. But it was a different darkness…farther from late and closer to early.
With a cruel effort Satoshi rested his palms against the smooth stone and pushed his upper body up, flopping back into a sitting position. He groaned out loud at the soreness in his muscles and the wounds on his body. He rolled his shoulder in its socket, loosening the tight muscles.
The bloody wings were starting to get heavy.
"In the dark I have come, I am cold. I will take what I need, I feed on your soul…in my dreams…somewhere in my dreams…you'll stay in my dreams…you'll never return…"
That haunting voice; he could hear her. She was so far away, sealed in her cavern, and yet he could still hear her.
"Satoshi-dono."
He frowned, frustrated. It was one thing to hear the song of The Mystic and be afraid, but hearing Krad's voice was just starting to get annoying.
"Shut up," he grumbled and began to struggle to his feet, spreading his wings to help balance his wobbly frame.
There was a low, amused chuckle. "But tamer, I think you've frightened her."
Puzzled, Satoshi glanced to his right. Through the glass of the window, which was actually a door, sat Risa Harada, her feet tangled in a pink rug, her long hair tied messily behind her head, and her wide eyes dilated in fear as they stared into his face.
Satoshi sighed. "Damn."
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She breathed deeply, pulling the air into her lungs with great care. The cold that passed through her body was shock, but it was one that she had not been allowed to feel for years. She breathed again and again and again.
Oh, how she loved to be alive.
She wiggled her fingers and held them up to her face. They were moving, tangible things; no longer frozen in their reach for the stars. She flexed the muscles of her hands. They responded. She used them to brush the hair from her face, tossing the silken mane over her shoulders where they fell to her knees. She blinked, looking at her surroundings with eyes of bright amethyst. Everything was so dark, save for a few glowing embers of a dead fire scattering the ground and the smallest sliver of moonlight peeking in from the ceiling; a moonlight that had, moments before, doused the vault in its brilliance, alighting upon her and filling her with life once again.
She had longed for that moonlight.
She ran her hands over her arms. She was freezing, but she did not mind it. The garments that she wore were hardly made to keep her warm. They were loose and thin, a dress layered with gossamer and silk, slinking off her shoulders and her collar. She wore nothing on her feet.
There was a sudden feeling within her chest and she realized it was excitement. So…she really was alive again. And if she was alive, then she was still able to sing…
The lips parted, the eyes closed, and the voice of fire and ice flowed outward, pouring from her throat in one clear, menacing note. It seeped through the walls, through the earth, into the night, carrying out towards the city where it leaked onto the streets and into the sea. It was beautiful and ethereal. It was inhuman. It was Art.
The Mystic let the note fall slowly, fading out into the night. She breathed again.
"My Hikari," she whispered. Her voice, so different from her song, was deep and resonating with melodies. "My Hikari. Where has he gone? Where has the cursed one gone?" She looked up into the moonlit sliver. "I must find him…my Hikari. My dying Hikari…" She lifted her elegant leg and, with the pointed feet of a dancer, stepped up onto the vaulted air.
