The Eternal Dance of Light and Dark

by The King of Ravens

Having just survived a nine year long civil war, those of Lucael would be forgiven for entertaining the notion of peace. However, new threats are rising, and as the son of the king, it is Caiellis's job to combat them, despite his youth. But as the leaders of a rival nation declare war and mysterious figures pull strings in the shadows, Cai will be drawn into the fate of the world.

34. A Hero's Death (Part I)

Well originally I wasn't going to upload this as one chapter, since in my plans it should have been combined with the next, but I looked at the size of it and knew that another scene would take way too long. On a side note, if you are leaving a review (and I'm always happy for anyone to review so please do) please tell me what you think of a chapter length of around 40,000 (which the past few chapters have been). I like it at that length, but what do you think?

Furthermore just to clear up any confusion that could arise, I am changing Caiellis's height from 5 feet to 4'11'' since I only picked the former because it was Hope Estheim's height in FF-13. I really had no clue whether it was small for his age or not, but I thought it would be since a couple of years ago when I was that age I was around 5'6'' and that wasn't even close to being in the top quarter of heights (and since I had my growth spurt early now nearly all of my friends are taller than me) I thought that 5 feet would be around small enough. I was looking it up out of curiosity and apparently it is only an inch shorter than the average height of thirteen year old boys in the UK. While I know that Lucaelians would be taller on average, I still think I needed to make him shorter. I thought I'd put that here in case someone was reading it and got confused by the fact that he suddenly shrunk.

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Tristram screamed out in pain as his arm was lopped off by the glittering and malevolent blade that exuded high amounts of sadistic Black mana that amplified his pain, and Elizabex immediately conjured healing White mana from within her to help repair the wound – although she could not create a new arm and the malicious magic of darkness that had been coating the sword wielded by the Master of Gluttony would seek to nullify her magic. She gathering up the mana within her like her mother had taught her all those years ago at the start of the civil war, where Alexander and Caiellis's mother had been assassinated by demons and the capital city had been besieged only a few minutes afterwards as more demons tore their way from the forsaken void and into reality and hounded the army as it tried to prepare.

It had been a night of bloodshed, murder and fire, and while Elizabex had edited out most of the memory of that awful time only a few things stuck with her – and the only one of any use was her mother, a powerful High Priestess of the Cathedral of Salvation in Capitalia Lux, pushing her small secondary wand into her nine year old daughter's small hands and quickly making sure that she knew the knowledge of a spell to harm and another to heal before throwing her and Leodred inside of their small safe house and leaving to go help the army fight against the demons. Elizabex and her brother had been terrified, and although the younger of the two had professed that he was going to protect his sister Elizabex knew that it had been her job to guard her (only just) little brother from the demons and the traitors attacking the capital.

They had spent all night scared within their temporary sanctuary, hoping that the demons couldn't detect their fear and nevertheless wanting to help the army against them, as they could hear the sounds of the fighting and violence in the wider city, the blood curdling screams splitting through them and reaching the cores of their being and freezing them to the spot. They had wanted to help, but Elizabex knew that they would have just been getting in the way instead and that they were far too scared to be of any use so they stayed cowering within their home's cellar until the fighting abated, praying silently that no demons would come.

They never did, but Elizabex still channelled that fear into her magic, coupled with the desire to help that had been burning within her breast the entirety of that night and the realisation that she could now aid those that were fighting for the safety of the kingdom and the children left behind, the determination within her to allow others to live prosperous and safe lives free of war and destruction empowering her magic. One thing that she had always been concerned about was the fact that if she had been so terrified that she couldn't move or process the thought of leaving their refuge despite the fact that it was almost as dangerous as the outside, then how had that affected the little brother of one of her best friends, Prince Caiellis?

He had only been four years old when his mother had been ripped to shreds in front of his eyes, and had been forced to contend with his perfect life being torn away from him at an age where he barely knew what was going on around him (although Cai had always been an intelligent and perceptive child, highlighted by the way he had "forced" others to read history books to him), and even though she knew how good of a brother her best male friend was it still didn't change the fact that arguably Caiellis had suffered more out of the four of them. If she couldn't cope with the terror at the age of nine, then how had he managed at the age of four?

Elizabex knew that despite what others may like to believe, the Lucerna family were not gods, they were just humans that had power that they could use to help the Kingdom of Light – sure, it was easy to believe that they were divine beings, and the power that she had seen from King Marik was breathtaking to behold and stirred a sense of deep rooted loyalty and pride within her, but the fact was that they were still mortals, still human beings that needed love, warmth and friends just as much as everyone else did. She wasn't sure that she would be saying the same if she didn't have the two youngest in the royal family as friends (although she wasn't sure if quiet Caiellis would class her as a friend or not, or just his brother's friend) and was aware that they were people, young teenagers that were the exact same as normal humans bar the Summonings of First Sisterhood angels, but it was why she had to fight now. Elizabex had to fight and help her allies, family and friends so that they could all live happy lives free from strife and bloodshed, and give thirteen year old boys a chance to live a life away from the pressure and death bearing down upon him.

She cared a lot about Caiellis, not just because he was a Lucerna prince, but for two reasons: she knew that Alexander's inner happiness more often than not correlated to his little brother's happiness, and could well empathise with wanting to protect younger brothers (not that Leo had ever considered himself her younger brother), and secondly she thought it was one of the greatest injustices in the world like innocent children like him (and Alexander, but it was more prominent within his younger sibling) had their childhood's stripped away from them because of the ravages of war and the greedy impulses of narcissistic would-be rulers. Elizabex and Leodred also had to suffer through that, though to a much greater extent than the Lucerna brothers, as their father had left to go fight with Marik as the king's right hand and most trusted general and they had only seen him less than twenty times over the nine year period of the civil war instigated by the king's insidious and brutal brother.

As she channelled the spell, her sharp mind working overtime to create the emotions necessary to override such vile and destructive Black mana pulsing through the Capitalia Lux Guardian that had done so much for her friends, Elizabex wondered how many Welkalite children had been torn away from their innocence and their allowed immaturity because of the Orders of Passion that had corrupted a city and empire that had just obtained its freedom from a lineage of autocratic and draconic tyrants – she remembered when Alex had spoken to his kid brother's roommate about after he invited the Welkalite boy over in the dinner of the day that Caiellis had passed his Summoning trial, and that Kaled had never known his parents and had been taken in by a well intentioned and kind old woman when he had already lived years of hardship on the streets of the very city the Lucaelian soldiers were battling to free (even though some couldn't care less about the fate of the Welkalites and simply wanted them destroyed so that he could not continue to threaten Lucael or the young heirs to its throne). She had felt sorry for the fifteen year old then, and although some of the more narrow-minded within her nation (probably including her father and mother) only cared about the Kingdom of Light, the rest of the world be damned, Elizabex wanted every child to have a chance at life, no matter where they were born.

She felt the White mana flowing through her, more powerful than she had ever conjured it before, and Elizabex thought that perhaps this would in fact heal Guardian Tristram's arm fully and restore the limb completely, and the gentle but tough Purity sang a cry of nobility and light as the magic flowed through the elemental, incandescent circles of healing power surrounding both Tristram, Elizabex and the elemental of goodness as the eighteen year old raised her staff to the raging sky, ignoring the fact that droplets of blood were beginning to pour from what had been named as the Tempest of Craving and splattering on the bare skin of her pale face.

The daughter of Carlis Montlea quickly whispered the final words of the incantation that had only taken a few seconds to cast and that had been started pre-emptively as the Master of Gluttony Ilentia had began her attack, Leodred internally praising his twin sister's foresight in preparing a healing spell of great power the moment the insanely attractive but almost demoniacally pale Welkalite bitch stopped attacking and distracting her as he and his Valour rushed towards the Guardian and his assailant and the angel and demon continued to fight in heavens above. Elizabex felt her hair slowly being lifted into the air through the power of the spell coursing through her as light surrounded her limbs and pulsed through her staff, the girl determined to help the others avenge the deaths of her father's personal retinue and guard, the Spears of Justice, that now littered the ground with their body parts, and she slammed her staff into the ground.

Instead of a blast of light illuminating the reeling Tristram and repairing his wounds, instead an explosion of violent and malicious Black and Red mana detonated all around the girl, spiralling contrails of sadistic darkness combined with vindictive black flames that pulsated with an obtrusively vibrant crimson core consuming her in fire and blood as the magic of repairing and kindness turned inwards and had its pure intentions corrupted by the bloody rain that was burning through Elizabex's skin. She involuntarily screamed in pain as the violent magic blossomed throughout her body and bloodstream, sending spikes of throbbing agony stabbing into every inch of her skin as the circles of orderly and virtuous White mana that had been circulating around her became spiteful and ruinous, losing their perfect shape and mutating into cataclysmic symbols of pain and hedonism that danced behind Elizabex's eyelids as she automatically shut them in the wake of the explosion that was crashing through her.

The girl vaguely felt herself being blown backwards by the sudden generation of large amounts of Black and Red mana that was a sick parody of her healing spell, but the pain of the impact was nothing compared to the agony blasting through her limbs and ramming pounding blades of torture into her skull again and again. It was more pain than she had ever experienced before, and it hurt, the agony blooming within her as if some sort of capricious and frenzied god addicted to bloodshed and violence was punishing her for trying to heal and help others, inflicting torment upon her to in payment for her attempts to soothe the pain of others.

Elizabex coughed as she screamed, scarlet blood exploding from her mouth as the warm liquid's taste was strangely amplified and focussed by her agonised mind, every sensory facet of her own blood accentuated by the hedonistic Red and Black mana swirling savagely around her as the circles of once noble White mana that had been revolving around her wrists and slender forearms like enchanted bracelets of holy luminescence became barbed and wickedly spiked and lost their divine light, turning hellish and smoky as they emitted the debased and sacrilegious mana of corruption and impulse. They suddenly started constricting, stabbing into Elizabex's arms and veins as they sent vile and agonising Black and Red mana into her blood, losing their uniform and circular shape and extending outwards like jagged and thorny chains of wire that cut and slashed at her lower arms and wrists, every pain stimulus she felt heightened to insanity inducing levels by the screaming Tempest of Craving that sent resounding pain ricocheting through her skull.

Blearily, she felt blood pouring down the back of her head and noticed that it was resting on stone, and then Elizabex saw something like a shield of golden and white magic cracking apart in front of her, splintering into several metallic fragments of light as the dark magic pulsed through it, and the young woman distinctly felt a feeling of being protected that had nestled within her behind all of her fear and determination smashing apart, the deeply rooted sense of safety and security that she had detected was coming from Guardian Tristram's Second Sisterhood angel, Athela of the Aegis, broken within her and truly exposing her mind to the terror of the battle in the corrupt City of Pleasure underneath an unnatural and roiling storm that could wipe her from existence at any moment its atavistic will chose. A demonic roar resounded across the battlefield, although it was not coming from the ravenous creature the Master of Gluttony had created, and Elizabex perceived the presence of something monumental and indescribably evil entering the city of Usnaan near to where she had vaguely detected the location of Prince Caiellis.

Elizabex, one of the more sensitive members of the Montlea family that had surpassed her proud mother in that department a few years ago, but who was more focussed upon the aura of emotions rather than mana pools (although the two were linked in potency and the feelings of a being with large amounts of magical energy were more obvious to her), screamed in fright for her fraternal twin brother, father and friends, and in fear for herself, as despite technically being an adult Elizabex was still a child and still a teenager, and the pain that was pulsing through her that had destroyed the protective blessing of Tristram's seraph homed in on that fear and used it top exacerbate her agony. Then, blackness consumed her sight and Elizabex let herself be consumed by the lull in the pain for an infinitesimal moment before pushing herself up out of it as the excruciating that revelation unconsciousness only brought more pain made itself known to her.

"Eliza!" Leodred shouted as he saw his slightly older twin sister being flung across the garish but bloody avenue of Banquet Street by malignant energies that crackled through her in a sick mockery of the orderly and kind healing magic she had tried to conjure to aid the Guardian, but there was nothing he could do to help his precious sibling at the moment so instead hefted his longsword that had been a present for his eighteenth birthday and ascension into adulthood, and launched himself at the fiery and red eyed Master of Gluttony that was pressing the attack against Tristram. Valour rushed to his side in a blaze of milky White light that reminded Leo of the exalted King Marik, though he did recall his elemental incarnation warrior telling him that he was a servant of the divine Angel of Wrath and that because of that he used a similar power to the First Sisterhood angel, and the exemplification of soldiery hefted its elegant spear as he augmented his human Summoner with additional speed so that the boy could match him as he charged towards Ilentia, who was now spinning her second strike through the air with the more destructive and chaotic blade of her left hand whilst her right was curving around also.

The sword in that hand was pulsating with dripping malicious energy that craved bloodshed and pain, and as Leodred ran towards her his adrenaline fuelled mind couldn't help but think that now that the Welkalite weapon had caused the Champion of Capitalia to lose his right arm and had caused the noble Tristram a large amount of torment the blade seemed to have developed a liking – no, an addiction – to the Lucaelian exemplar's blood and pain by the way that it moved in Ilentia's hand of its own accord and reached towards the reeling Guardian. Leo saw his dad on the other side of the unusually pale Welkalite woman with his androgynous elemental known only as Glory attacking from above, and his eyes locked with the brown sphere's of his father's as they rushed to the attack.

The boy – young man, he corrected himself - knew that while he wanted nothing more than to go and help Elizabex and see what was wrong with her, find out why her healing spell had backfired and comfort the sister that had helped him through many painful experiences and had always been the temperament to his more brash and boisterous nature, killing the seemingly ironically named Master of Gluttony (as while her demon seemed voracious and insatiable enough) that had made a mockery of their fighting skills and danced through them as she killed those without powerful Summonings and exploited the gaps in the Spears of Justice that had been caused by her brutish and slavering force would serve to make Eliza safer in the long run, although Leodred always felt awful whenever he saw his twin sister hurt and felt protective over her to the point where he had often gotten into fights with boys that had wanted to date his sibling but would have just spurned and rejected her given the chance and had only wanted to use her for the prestige of having a girlfriend – which was the content of one of his few fights with his best friend Alexander Ensis Lucerna.

There was a tempestuous roar of a primal and insatiable lust for destruction and chaos that echoed across the battlefield and was originating from something that was the most powerful thing Leo had ever sensed before, but Leodred paid it no heed as he, his Summoning, his dad and the man's own powerful Sancturia creature initiated their three pronged attack on the seemingly oblivious Master of Gluttony who was split seconds away from eviscerating the uncharacteristically blinded by pain Tristram (which only emphasised how potent the enchanted weapons of their Welkalite opponent were). Leo knew that no matter how concentrated upon solely the tall and broad Capitalia Lux Guardian Ilentia seemed to be, she would be focussing upon the battle as a whole and probably perfectly ready for their attack, but they still needed to force her away from Tristram so that the man's angel – the only descendant of the holy heavens that was close enough to provide aid, the others embroiled in most likely equally bloody battles elsewhere across this light-forsaken city – could continue to hold of the greater demon pressing down on her and testing Athela's skills to the limit, as well as preserving the life of the man who was famed all across the Kingdom of Light and who meant a lot to Leodred's best friend.

"Ave Lux!" Valour shouted, his otherworldly voice nevertheless infused with very human conviction as he closed on the Master of Gluttony, his spear carving a line through the air as he lanced at the unnaturally albino woman as the torrent of blood shed from the Tempest of Craving that crackled and screamed in the roiling sky above increased in intensity until it became a veritable downpour of gore and lifeblood. Leo wished that he had access to long ranged magical attacks, but all of his magic was exclusively focussed into a single discipline, that of augmenting the close combat power of himself and others around him which was similar to what his father did, although Carlis's Glory had a wider variety of abilities and spells at its disposal that Leo hoped he would unlock with years more of training and honing his magical potency, because that meant that they would have instantly been able to respond when the Guardian was injured and his arm amputated by the greedy black blade of the Welkalite – as his father's magical attacks took a long time to prepare.

Despite whatever notions of glory and honour Leodred had concerning being the one to slay a Master of a Welkalite Order of Passion, the boy knew that his role in this would be to distract the woman or force her away from Tristram so that either his dad could get in a good blow or they were able to reconsolidate and prepare for her next attacks. He hacked his longsword towards the woman, who predictably spun around to block it on her fiery blade, the strength behind the blow immense as Leodred felt the burning power of the rush of a thousand infernos enhancing the force generated behind the return strike as Ilentia almost casually sidestepped the strike from the fluted spear of Valour.

The demonic power that she had willingly traded her former Summoning for in an Infernal Bargain with the denizens of the unholy abyssm coursing through the corrupt veins of the woman made her far more formidable than a normal human, and her speed would have been incredible to behold had she not been their enemy who had received that power in the most vile of means, and as Carlis slashed his shining blade – channelling his mana into the ornate and ancient sword that had served many generals loyal to the Lucerna line and had been a gift from Lord Marik in recognition of his efforts in a way that the man, his friend and almost brother that was a few years younger than him, had taught his dutiful general – at the Welkalite wench she leapt upwards, her feet surrounded by fire that had helped her push herself from the ground as the ambitious and selfish Black mana that flowed through her bloodstream and would forever corrupt her heightened the effectiveness of the movements even more, and Carlis's blade hacked a swathe of light in the space that she had occupied only minuscule moments ago as the rain of vivid crimson blood sizzled as it touched the holy mana of White.

Carlis immediately looked upwards towards where his elemental incarnation was descending upon the Master of Gluttony as she somersaulted through the air, displaying the astonishing agility that had allowed her to exterminate the to all extents and purposes Spears of Justice that had survived many horrific battles within the Lucaelian civil war and all of whom Carlis had known personally (as he had hand picked each and every one of them himself, apart from the one who had been offered a place in the Lucerna Guard instead), Ilentia ripping apart men that had fearlessly battled against horrors from the pits of the darkness and overwhelmed powerful demons with their unity and skill like they were children playing at the game of being soldiers and had had their folly punished with the ultimate price. He shot a bolt of light at the woman from the tip of his large (though not quite as gigantic as the king's broadsword) longsword, golden mana spilling out of the blade and streaking through the air at her, a single beam of light surrounded by coils of yellow energy that strengthened its already potent power that shone forth from his fingers as both of his hands gripped the weathered handle of his blade that was eroded from many years of use but still kept it optimum condition – as Carlis was loathe to let such a mighty blade lounge in disrepair and refused to let any of his servants or squires tend to it, so he always tended to the sword personally.

The bolt of radiance was met by a shield of wriggling shadows that Ilentia brought in front of it, obscuring the man's vision of the woman with its noxious darkness that would no doubt clog the lungs of any of noble Lucaelian heritage that entered it, though he knew that Glory's post human sight would pierce through the veil of deceit and evil as it had done so many times in the past when the forces of Johnias had shrouded themselves in the blessings of the night and had become invisible to both physical and magical sight (and it seemed that the youngest son of Marik had developed a similar ability, the young thirteen year old named Caiellis that Carlis had never really interacted with before (although he had spoken to Alexander on quite a few occasions) and who Carlis wasn't sure how he felt about despite knowing that any son of Marik and any Lucerna was far beyond whatever his lowly opinions were) and was warily confident that the elemental would be able to force Ilentia out of her concealment.

It was with no small rush of satisfaction that Carlis noted that his magical shaft of incandescence blasted through the cowardly shadows that Ilentia had wrapped around her position in the air as Leodred came to his father's side quickly, the lanky but still muscular boy's only slightly pale face becoming stained with the blood pouring relentlessly from the cursed storm above as his brown orbs reflected his fear and concern for his sister, but Carlis spared his beloved son no more than a glance as he watchfully observed the cloud of darkness that had burst into the air that Glory, its ribbons of protection the colour of midnight shadow, had just entered, and the general and head of the famed Montlea family who had long served the Lucerna line and the Lucaelian people prepared to launch another magical assault. Long ranged attacks were not his forte, but as the holder of one of the highest ranks in the Lucaelian legions he had to proficient in all forms of combat – as one never knew when they would be needed – and as he prepared the attack it was only a second or so until Ilentia burst out of her brief defence.

The woman immediately sighted the Lucaelians below her, her combat instincts blaring within her mind as she emerged from her temporary sanctuary of darkness that was only ever meant to be used as a distraction, and although the new Ilentia fancied herself to be an impassive and serious warrior she could only just resist the burning temptation not to wear a contemptuous smile that would be directed towards the foolish girl who had tried to cast a healing spell whilst under the effects of the Rain of Gore that had just began. However, Ilentia couldn't really blame her, as she had been trying to heal the one that the Master of Gluttony had almost killed, and the girl obviously wasn't aware of the bloody rain or what it could do. Ilentia had planned this out from the start, as she had felt the Tempest of Craving changing in the core of her being, a sensation that she had found extremely disturbing at first but one that she had manipulated to her advantage.

Ilentia had spoken with Arrapackxia after speaking to Eras Stormwind, the young and undoubtedly insane Master of Wealth that had given her the teleportation device that nestled in the pockets of her light armour, and had forced the greater demon to begrudgingly reveal information about the whirling storm above the city of her two births so that she could better plan out the defence of the Glutton's Quarter – Tradax's insistences that everything would be fine and that they only needed the Lucaelians to simply enter the city be damned. To that end she had planned to launch her attack round about when she predicted the Rain of Gore to start pouring down upon Usnaan, as the chaff of the Lucaelian soldiers would die within one or two attacks each and the mages as such wouldn't have enough time to heal them.

However, the more prominent warriors from the Kingdom of Light – the Summoners, potentially those of angelic counterparts to Ilentia's arrogant demon – would definitely be able to withstand some of her weaker blows and almost certainly survive the more major attacks that she could muster as she was still getting used to her new abilities and demonic power, although her instincts and impulses were serving her very well in deciding upon how to wield her mana in tight situations in ways that the former Ilentia would never have done before. That meant that she would have to wait until approximately enough death occurred in the besieged capital city for the hellish Rain of Gore to begin so that the healing of the stronger Lucaelians would be nullified and punished with a vengeance, and so had planned for the dispatching of the lesser enemies from the assaulting forces who had entered the place she ruled over to take around as long as the Tempest of Craving would to metamorphose into its next stage.

It was not normal for Welkalites to think about the long term consequences of their activities nor what alternate courses of action to take that would be just as beneficial, preferring to act on sometimes whimsical compulsion, whereas Ilentia still lived in the present like most of those in the nation she was currently aligned with (as the Master of Gluttony had no particular loyalty to the New Empire of Passion, nor its apparent goals of Summoning demons into the world and creating a domain of hedonism and unfettered indulgence) but made plans for the future as well, a future in which she would survive and not die.

To that end she had attacked the most formidable of the attacking Lucaelian warriors – the man with the guardian seraphim that was tangling with the feasted greater demon who was far more powerful once he had consumed soul essence – with two clear plans in mind. Either she would kill the man and forcefully dispel his angel, the greatest asset of the weak Lucaelians that had been sent to conquer the Glutton's Quarter whilst the rest of their legions hacked their way through the other Passion Quarters and the forces in their way there that were lead by Ilentia's fellow Masters (not that any felt any sense of comradeship with the others), or she would rouse the girl with the abilities of a cleric and who controlled the flying deer elemental to attempt to heal the man – as there was no way that he would have emerged unscathed unless Ilentia had greatly underestimated him, and she had never done that ever since her dark revival. Most likely because underestimating Tradax's capacity for violence and sadism had lead to this situation in the first place, and so the emotions of that had remained with her fiery defiance.

Now she was leaping through the air, having intentionally attracted the boy and the man who seemed to be the father of both the young swordsman and the girl to the spot where she had hacked off the arm of the leading Lucaelian warrior who had wielded the large steel axe (although Ilentia couldn't help but feel a small sense of admiration in the fact that despite the malignant wounds inflicted by Malice that would already be poisoning him without the aid of any form of healing, the warrior was still sustaining his angel and therefore preserving the lives of his comrades a little longer) and baited the young woman into attempting to restore his injuries and purify his afflictions. From the angry blade in her left hand, the Master of Gluttony released large amounts of almost uncontrollable fiery Red mana that took the form of several large and billowing fireballs that arced down through the air towards the man and his son, the speed of the magic faster than any shields they could hope to raise.

Ilentia then landed on the blood slick ground of the once garish but now solely crimson Banquet Street, flipping over backwards and kicking a small and downed market stall at the incarnation creature that had been quickly tailing her acrobatics that would never have been possible in her former body no matter how long she had trained but had been gifted to her by the Infernal Bargain that had landed her with the potent but hatred filled Arrapackxia. The pure white avatar swung its golden staff at the debris launched at it, splitting the wood in half and sending the splintered pieces of it crashing down to the ground elsewhere as it spoke in some unknown language to Ilentia filled with archaic-sounding and magisterial words that nevertheless seemed to invoke great power and a feeling of awe from those less powerful than the Master of Rapture, the numinous being's voice deep and saturated with an ethereal timbre.

As she quickly evaded a jabbing attack from the pole weapon of the elemental, the ribbon of magical substance that was coloured deep black flashing blinding for a second as it carved a swathe of pale light through the air, each of the enigmatic and inhuman being's four angel-esque wings glowing with the same shade of white and adding power to its strikes that discharged energy all around it, Ilentia briefly saw out of the corner of her eye the intended result of her fireball bombardment and the damage it had wreaked, and although she refused to become distracted by it she couldn't help a smile from slowly working its way onto her harsh and pale features that now had rivulets of pulsing scarlet streaming down it.

As she had anticipated and bargained upon, because she had launched the flaming projectiles at the adult man instead of what seemed to be his son – the only one of the children still protected by the shield of the angel that had cracked on his sister because of her attempts to use powerful revitalisation spells – who was almost unprotected by magic apart from the few inherent resistances he had as a Summoner of a powerful Sancturia creature, the elemental of the girl that was still around (as "Eliza" or whatever she was called had only been knocked into a brief unconsciousness by her agony and would soon recover without the protection of the angelic shield that while invisible Ilentia had sensed upon her) reacted as the Master of Gluttony had banked on and rushing forwards, a beam of light bursting out of its open mouth as it sang in defiance of the damaging magic, converting it into rejuvenating and soothing particles of gold that glittered as they floated languidly towards the intended recipients of the attack before being violently snuffed out by bursts of crackling red and pink electricity combined with ruptures of darkness.

Too late, the white deer of Purity that was covered in blood realised its mistake, and it was with no little amount of vindictive gratification that Ilentia witnessed the being crying out in agony and pain as a rush of throbbing shadows electrified by sadistic and baleful crimson lightning wrapped around it in vengeful retribution for endeavouring to stop or prevent pain as it was dragged to the ground, the shadows becoming barbed and sharp in an imitation of what had happened to the being's young Summoner who had attempted a similar move only a minute or so ago and ripping into the elemental's flesh, blood of a more dark scarlet pumping out of the creature's wounds as it screamed, a pealing noise of sadness and innocent hurt that would have once appealed to Ilentia's more sensitive side in caring for her two years younger brother but now only made her despise the beast even more.

Stupid deer, she thought, wondering how foolish a creature had to be to replicate the mistakes of someone that had just suffered the almost fatal consequences of them, and without any sort of divine shield guarding the elemental it would soon be Unsummoned and out of Ilentia's way as the potency of the dark and sybaritic magic afflicting the being increased as more chains of wickedly spiked darkness coiled around it and dug into its white fur, but the Master of Gluttony had little time to ruminate upon the thoughts as the second elemental was joined by the third, the only ground based Sancturia creature of the three that glared at her out of its spiritual helmet of mana substance.

"Ave Lux!" the crusader of White mana that was probably supposed to be some sort of manifestation of Lucaelian and White mana virtues shouted at her again, making Ilentia briefly wonder what the words that were perpetually vomited up by nearly all of the invaders from the Kingdom of Light to an almost irritating degree meant, before deciding that so long as it wasn't a spell that would invoke a specific result she should be wary of and was just a battle cry then she couldn't care less. The flying one dove at her as its partner sprinted across the land, both of their weapons giving them longer reach than the Master of Gluttony who would have to get in close to deal with them, as she wasn't yet confident enough in her unpredictable magical abilities that she had only had less than six says to experiment and train with, and Ilentia's piercing red eyes tracked the movements of the two Lucaelian males as they ran to join with their Summonings as they charged the outnumbered Welkalite in their midst.

Ilentia quickly flicked her gaze up to the clashing angel and demon that seemed completely oblivious to the battle below them, each spitting curses at the other as the angel's elegant and ornate axe tangled with Arrapackxia's lengthy claws that dripped with a deadly venom that wouldn't spoil the taste of his meal, even though Ilentia was sure her ravenous Summoning cared much more about the quantity of his feeding sessions instead of the quality of those that he would feed upon. It was with a stab of annoyance that Ilentia quickly deduced that her demon was simply toying with the angelic shield maiden, leading her on a merry dance as the two fought in the age old battle between the forces of light and darkness instead of finishing with her and moving on to help Ilentia against the other Lucaelians – not that the Master of Gluttony had expected any help from a demon, especially not her demon, but the move reeked of the egotism and conceit that she had come to despise from the Archlord of Rapture and ideally Ilentia wanted the shield that was guarding the youngest male combatant gone so that she didn't have to weave intricate plans around them and place herself in additional danger just to circumvent something that Arrapackxia could have already dealt with.

However, the demonic creature was still occupying the seraphim and without that the Welkalite would have had a significantly more difficult time dealing with the Lucaelians, so she would only recall him to her side if she needed the aid. She jumped back from the two elementals, releasing an explosion of magma and dancing orange flames from the ground that she had been stood on in an attempt to dissuade them from following, but the flying servant of the light placed its staff at a right angle and swiftly turned the colour of its ribbon red, iridescent spheres of the same colour surrounding the four soldiers and allowing them to wade through the inferno unscathed as the fire and lava pattered off their shielding.

Carlis leapt at the insidious Master of Gluttony who had been baiting them since this battle began first, his sword carving a line through the air as it was met and deflected by the more indiscriminately destructive master crafted sabre in the woman's right hand, the workmanship of the two clashing blades of a similar quality but massively different properties – the general's graceful longsword was a devoted representation of purpose and loyalty, created through the dutiful and tireless labour of faithful servants, an object of the wielder's devotion to the cause of justice in the service of his kingdom, whereas Ilentia's curved blade was the expression of impulsive and fiery emotion formed in the passionate heat of the moment and infused with the potential for unpredictable destruction as well as spontaneous creation, an evanescent and fleeting release of passion and emotion scraping against the timeless symbol of undying loyalty that was Carlis's longsword.

By comparison, the malevolent scimitar gripped tightly in the Master of Gluttony's other hand was a darker twin to the passionate sword grinding against the Lucaelian's own, a malicious and fiendish weapon that had much more in common with an implement of torture than a noble blade of honour in spite of the reality that it was simply a mirror of the other sword and both were just expensive and intricate curved blades undoubtedly made by Welkalite artisans and that there were no spikes or hooks protruding from the armament. However, one current quality of the weapon that was rather more pressing than the others was the fact that it was currently arcing towards him, eager to spill his blood and cause him as much pain as possible whereas the other sword simply wanted to eradicate everything that came in its path and see what came from the flames of its obliteration.

Nonetheless, as Carlis strained against one blade and tensed his muscles to react against the other, he sensed that because of the ways in which they had been made and the methods they were employed in, neither of the evidently heavily enchanted swords felt any form of loyalty towards their current wielder besides the fact that she was using them to inflict torture and ruin upon her foes, which made sense because of the utterly disloyal and ambitious Black mana that was the lifeblood of one and the individualistic and temperamental Red mana empowering the other. Maybe that would be something that he could use to his advantage in obtaining victory later, but Carlis knew that no matter he did if he wanted his beloved children that were more precious to him than anything in the world to survive then he needed to take control of the situation.

He was scared, which was something that he would never admit and never show to anyone else, and although the most overpowering fear was the concern for his twins' lives against a Welkalite Master that had shown she was capable and fully prepared to target and eliminate the weakest links first there was still the underlying worry that he himself wouldn't survive this conflict – that wasn't to say that he wouldn't willingly give his life for the cause of continuing the Kingdom of Light's existence, which was simply untrue, but Carlis had always felt that way, always knew that should he die then he wouldn't have anything else to offer in his duties and that the men who he commanded – that he had now led to their deaths – would be left bereft of leadership.

This wasn't a new thing for him, and he had just supposed that fearlessness was what set apart a simple (but successful) general like him from the heroes in the kingdom, most prominently the Lucerna family who would throw themselves into the most perilous situations without a moment's hesitation and were exemplars of selflessness and sacrifice, giving up everything so that the kingdom could survive and stay a refuge for the innocent and the good, a bulwark against the darkness that pressed against them from all sides, and he had for as long as he could remember manipulated that fear to his benefit, using it as a motivation to keep on fighting when he had been younger in the years of constant attacks from remnants of the Grafnica Dominion after the destruction of their capital city Malevioletia, and then turning it into a desire for no one else to have to feel the fear that he did, especially not his twin children that he cared for more than anything else and would sacrifice himself over a thousand times over for exactly like King Marik would give his life for his sons in a heartbeat despite the apparent difficulties that he was having with his impertinent youngest (although Carlis hadn't yet seen how they acted out of the strategy sessions, though if those were anything to base his assumptions upon then the relationship between father and second son was extremely strained to say the least).

He knew that ideally he and Leo had to delay until Tristram and Elizabex could recover and aid them against the formidable foe that was the Master of Gluttony, as there was little chance that they would overcome the Welkalite even with their Summonings and hers being distracted by a Second Sisterhood angel. Carlis hadn't earned his reputation as a master strategist (that he was too modest to ever admit and it certainly hadn't shown here) and become one of the generals to the greatest army on this world for nothing, and he could clearly tell that this Ilentia outmatched them by quite a significant degree even if she was fighting alone, and she didn't seem to be possessed of the same arrogance that seeped from most of the other warriors of the darkness – including these Welkalites -, just a quiet but unbreakable confidence in her own abilities that would make it hard for Carlis to lure her into over extension.

His mind worked in over drive as the woman swung her second blade that had cleaved straight through Guardian Tristram's powerful wards and would make a mockery of his own at him, the man analysing every facet of the battle, and it was a little known fact that the famed Montlea that had attained almost the most glory out of anyone that had ever been part of the noble house that he was currently the head of was actually much better at assessing small numbers of opponents and finding weaknesses within them than orchestrating entire battles of huge armies because of his respect and accolades earned from the latter, but Carlis had been the former Prince Marik's Champion far before he had become a strategist and had been taught to evaluate the capabilities of any enemy (potential or obvious) in the protection of his Lucerna liege who would probably be doing the same by the poor Guardian Axeclion that had been cut down (although "eviscerated" was more of an apt description) by Johnias in one of the first battles between King Marik and the Arch-Heretic's main forces.

However, Carlis Montlea was extremely concerned at despite the fact he could probably come up with a good plan for defeating or at least stalling the slender and seemingly inappropriately named Master of Gluttony, his son Leodred might not be thinking the same way as him and he would have no way of communicating his plan to the lad without Ilentia hearing or taking advantage of his attempts to talk to his youngest child. Furthermore, Carlis had often rebuked his only son for being such an impetuous and often reckless – bordering on foolhardy – warrior that often threw himself into dangerous combat situations with little head of the consequences and was wont to press every perceived tiny advantage he had instead of consolidating his resources and victories and being careful. Carlis of course had always expected to defeat his admittedly skilful son in their sword training and sparring matches since the boy was younger than him and drastically less experienced, but to crush him in such a decisive and telling manner each time they had trained against each other even in spite of his boy's evident proficiency with a sword that made Carlis proud of him no matter how much he chastised him for his recklessness.

This meant that Leo might not see how powerful the Master of Gluttony was or read her constant feinting and baiting for what it was, and Carlis was aptly aware that the bitch would probably be targeting his son or the downed Guardian so that their Summonings could be removed for the battlefield as well, but right now Carlis had to trust that his son could take care of himself well enough for now so that he could concentrate on protecting him from the Welkalite woman that was about to split him apart with the malicious scimitar in her right hand.

Carlis released a quick blast of golden light around him that would have temporarily blinded less powerful and resilient foes, though that did nothing to dissuade Ilentia as she pushed off from the ground, using a burst of flame as a means of propulsion as well as a secondary way to damage the Lucaelian (which was subsequently blocked on his scintillating shield from his elemental) as she pressed against his stuck straight steel longsword with Fire and swept Malice sideways into him, watching intently to see how the man, who was clearly a very analytical warrior just as the one that she had cut the right arm off was as well, though this one seemed to be more concerned with any discernible patterns in her fighting strategy than what she was like as a warrior, would counterattack or block her killing strike, as Malice would slice straight through the plate armour that he seemed unencumbered by at the moment and disembowel him whilst injecting his fragile human body with powerful rending toxins of Black mana that would eat at the Lucaelian from the inside.

Carlis let go of his longsword with his right hand after having both of them holding the blade so that he could resist the surprising might of the fiery sabre, aware that he couldn't execute a move he would have liked to, which would have been to grab hold of the sword that was presently arcing towards him and rip it out of her grasp, as the malevolent blade would cut through his metal gauntlets and poison the skin underneath precisely like it had infected the resilient and admirable Guardian Tristram (that Carlis would always see as a young and moody teenager no matter how much of an embodiment of Lucaelian ideals and the post of a warrior Light-bearer (a position that the Montlea patriarch had once coveted long ago in his foolish youth) the now thirty year old became).

Instead, he quickly drew a small symbol with his forefinger in the air, luminescence flashing from the tips of the metal clad digits and etching a sigil in the ancient and venerated language of the ancestors that had not just been simple words and had carried its magical power over the thousands of years it had been in existence, and clasped his hand over the floating and potent emblem as he pulled back force from his sword that would allow him to disengage easier, although it could entail bodily harm to himself if he wasn't careful or Ilentia pulled an unexpected move, and let the malicious sabre carve an unrestricted path through the air and the droplets of blood that filled it towards him as more light blossomed into existence.

Ilentia watched with a measure of wary curiosity as she continued her attack regardless into the Lucaelian man's magic, fully aware that the boy and his spiritual soldier were circling around behind her, although because of the fact that her current opponent's brown eyes (which were a slight rarity in Lucael with the most common eye colour being blue, although green eyes were even rarer than that) were fixed upon her and his own magic instead of his son meant that either they had somehow planned this and he didn't want to give the ambush attack away or he had little idea of what the heedless (from what Ilentia had observed so far) brat was doing and intended to finish her himself.

She quickly swept her blade towards the unprotected (as plate armour would do nothing against her demonic power) side of the man, supposing that if whatever he was doing took too long then he would be easy prey for the thirsting Malice and that she may as well kill him if she got the chance and therefore wouldn't have to waste time dealing with his magic, but as the light increased in intensity Ilentia quickly deduced that she didn't have enough time to kill the Lucaelian soldier captain before his relatively fast spell completed, so she prepared to pull back whilst still continuing the attack, although she was focussed upon reducing the inevitable damage that would be done to her when the spell finished instead of finishing her attack which would almost certainly be nullified by the magic that she had allowed him to cast.

Carlis smiled grimly as he disengaged from the woman's fiery blade in a shower of swiftly neutralised sparks as the chaotic and individualistic Red mana clashed with the orderly and heavenly White mana of his relic longsword, and instead of the scimitar of Malice cleaving into him and rending his organs apart Glory materialised in the space that he had left for the incarnation of exaltation and magnificence and blocked the sword that was emitting heavy amounts of ambitious and sadistic Black mana with its staff, the blessed Sancturia fabric fluttering from the top of the enigmatic weapon (as it was simply a golden pole with a ribbon attached like a banner and seemed to have no offensive capabilities) and turning shadowy black once again as it charged White mana into the plain sceptre that nonetheless evoked a feeling of awe from all who looked upon the numinous and androgynous being made from the light of Sancturia and so far removed from human characteristics as to be pure and unrestrained by the folly of human beings, sweeping the blade of poison and pain backwards in a blast of searing light that the Master of Gluttony was hard pressed to get away from.

Some of the burst of purifying fire without heat washed over the pale white skin of Ilentia's right arm and burnt the flesh from it in a way that would have been extremely painful and emphasised her corruption (as she wasn't sure whether or not she should be classified as living or undead as she didn't seem to have to eat or drink to exist. And did not require the respite of sleep), exposing bleached bones underneath and bare musculature that tensed as she instinctively pulled away from the manifestation of pretentious and fanatical Lucaelian virtues that she detested just as much as Tradax's arrogance and the annoying hedonism of the Welkalite people despite not being exposed to them for very long (as this was the first time she had ever seen a Lucaelian that wasn't a slave in her entire life, including the time she had spent being called Guena Wranion).

Dark energies whirled around the wound that she didn't flinch from at all, surprising Carlis as every one of the denizens of the unholy and perpetual night or the servants of the darkness had never been able to resist Glory's purification present in the being's attacks and the pain that it caused the corrupt beings, as while Ilentia was different from those that took residence in the Lucaelian abyss that had never been categorised and defied normal comprehension of size she was still clearly tainted by Black mana in a way that every individual who used it was forever stained (bar one exception that Carlis was willing to make, the youngest prince who didn't seem blighted by the magic of darkness – or perhaps he simply refused to believe it because the boy was a Lucerna and could one day inherit the throne, and he supposed that Xarius had managed to hide his growing corruption until the day he initiated his coup d'etat and overthrew his reigning sister and queen) and exuded the stench of evil as well as Summoned a greater demon.

The Black mana within Ilentia's dark heart that beat with the power of her defiance of death and powerful grip on life and had been restarted by her dark resurrection flowed through her damaged limb, reknitting the pale tissue and rebuilding the burnt muscle in spite of the fact that normally White mana of that power would prevent regeneration, and the Black mana repaired her in such a way that defied the anti-healing effects of the Rain of Gore – simply regenerating the skin and muscle around the arm instead of actively healing it and soothing her pain, the Tempest of Craving's dark magic giving those that used the reanimating and regenerative properties of the evil energy of the shadows and death a clear advantage over those that would use light and life to restore their wounds.

Ilentia pulled back from the elemental as it and its Summoner pressed towards her, capitalising upon the brief and minuscule upper hand in the combat they had gained against the formidable Master of Gluttony as the boy and his ethereal warrior Summoning attacked from the back in tandem, which was a stupid move in Ilentia's opinion as while it would surround her they were already aware of her remarkable agility in avoiding attacks and leaping out of groups of enemies and simply staying close but not assaulting her would be much more efficient.

That was what Ilentia would have done had she been in the boy's position, as while she hadn't looked round at him she could sense the White mana through the predatory sixth sense in her mind that she had developed from sharing a Mind Realm with a ravenous hunter demon like Arrapackxia, as that would force her to either fight the Lucaelian's father who was a vastly superior and much cannier warrior than his son who looked about seventeen or eighteen or would prevent her from fleeing as if she leapt into the air away from the man then his brat could attack her, but this foolish move smacked of inexperience and the childish want for the glory attained from a great deed that Ilentia had experienced in her former existence and in the fragmented and fractured memories that haunted her dreams whenever she chose to go asleep (which was not often because of the aforementioned reason), although unlike herself the Master of Gluttony was going to make sure that the boy would not survive his recklessness as she barely dodged a blinding slash from the staff of sanctimonious gold held by the incandescent elemental of pure White mana.

She pirouetted on the spot, releasing a blast of fire in order to force a the being to change the colour of its magic specific protection shields to be able to nullify and absorb Red mana once again, and once that was done Ilentia, aptly aware of the positions of the boy and his celestial warrior as they rushed her from behind, tossed Malice at the man and the ambiguous and abstract representation of White mana, letting go of the sabre that was never wielded by the morbidly obese former Master of Gluttony Ershun Firefist that had been slain by the two young Lucerna princes that really ought to have been killed the second they stepped into Usnaan as a tendril of shadow burst out of her upper arm and wrapped around the ornate and ergonomic handle of the wickedly curved scimitar and flung the weapon at the legionary commander from the Kingdom of Light faster than the elemental could change the type of magical barrier was surrounding the two servants of the self-righteous light, but Ilentia knew that this type of magic would not kill the two as the elemental would throw itself in front of the blow and the man had enough mana to Summon it once again if he so desired.

Instead she infused the willing blade with large amounts of noxious and debilitating Black mana that would slow their movements and prevent them from intercepting or stopping her next actions. Ilentia span round fully before even waiting to see if her distracting attack had its intended effect and leapt towards the startled Leodred who had been labouring under the presumption that the Master of Gluttony had been too embroiled in battle with his father to notice his position, grasping Fire with both pale hands as she charged past the elemental Summoning of the boy, inclining her leap to the side slightly. Leo almost cried out in shock as Valour almost intercepted her attack, his halberd lashing out as the two past and carving a line straight across the woman's lightly armoured lower abdomen as the two passed each other, black and oily blood spraying out from the horrific wound that didn't impede Ilentia at all as she closed on Leodred.

The young man felt his adrenal glands power into overdrive as time seemed to slow down, but even with that the Master of Gluttony was terrifyingly fast whereas it felt like his own limbs were sluggish and being dragged through murky waters as he raised his sword to block a strike that he knew would easily kill him or shatter his bones if he absorbed the force of the more physically powerful fiery sabre that she was wielding with two hands now. He felt like he was a clumsy child trying to mount a resistance against the embodiment of predatory grace and violent elegance, every movement of this Ilentia who had murdered the Spears of Justice that Leo had always looked up to as a child like they were mere chaff perfectly poised and tensed and flawlessly executed to the maximum efficiency so that no energy was wasted in her pursuit of bringing death to the Lucaelians, and as Leodred looked up his gaze was transfixed by the fiery and baleful red eyes of the ferally attractive woman, terror freezing his already lethargic and lumbering limbs in place in spite of the fact that he knew Ilentia was using no magic to paralyse him or hold him in place.

In the back of his mind, the one calm place in the roiling storm of primal fear that his thoughts had become that he hadn't felt ever since that fateful night where his best friend's mother and the queen had been killed and Capitalia Lux had been besieged by hordes of traitors and demons and he had only been nine years old, he mused that this would be what Alexander had felt when he had been fighting the bitch of an apparently insanely attractive (as the younger boy had told his smaller (much to Leodred's chagrin) friend when he had been recovering from the wounds he had suffered, joking about the experience in a way that was clearly to prevent Leo from worrying about him) vampire that had fed upon him and almost killed him.

Leodred knew that he saw his death in those defiant red eyes as the woman shot through the air towards him, her corrupted and vile black blood splattering the paved stones of the once garish and extravagant Banquet Street that was now littered with brutalised corpses from both Lucaelian and Welkalite origin as it mingled with the unholy red torrent from the Tempest from Craving, and while one part of him was screaming at him to react, to move and that he was damn well lucky she wasn't using hindering magic upon him that would stop him from dodging or retreating or counter attacking against her renewed assault (and he couldn't compare his experiences to Alexander's at all because he hadn't just fought his way out of a capital city filled with enemies baying for his blood or capture, killed a Welkalite Master of Passion, Summoned a First Sisterhood angel and hadn't had his actions slowed down by the vile magic of Aksua), whilst another cursed the childish foolishness that his father had often rebuked him for when they were training, hating the fact that despite the reality that he was now eighteen and an adult he relied upon his daddy to come and save him and was too weak to fight for himself.

Finally, the last section of his mind wailed in pathetic but all too real and all consuming fear at the attack of the Master of Gluttony who had sensed weakness and sprung to the opportunity to attack it, and Leodred didn't want to die after not having any time to experience the pleasure and benefits of being an adult combined with the freedom it entailed, he didn't want to die knowing that he had his entire life ahead of him and that he could spend time with his friends and perhaps get a girlfriend, maybe go back to the friends he and Alexander had made within the Scholaria Magnus from other nations and help save people from the darkness. He didn't want to die like this, contemptuously cut down by a user (and most likely slave) of demons like he was nothing, like he didn't belong to a noble family and was the son of one of the most influential generals in Lucael and the King's Champion, like he didn't have aunts, uncles and cousins leading forces elsewhere in the city (though he was the second youngest of his family apart from his eldest cousin's young daughter), like he wasn't a Lucaelian, part of the strongest nation in the world and with the blood of the Kingdom of Light running through his veins.

With that realisation and sudden decision that he needed to do something to prevent his death a spontaneous surge of renewed energy coursed through Leodred's body and he sprang forwards to intercept the graceful Master of Gluttony, though he did not break off his eyes from the woman's terrifying gaze that was as bad as a Lucerna's or a demon's, his frantic heartbeat pounding in his head as adrenalized blood ran through his veins, his desperate need to survive infusing his White mana with power that ran through his straight steel longsword as he automatically cast several enchantments and auras upon himself that would augment his physical power and enhance the strength behind his strikes. His blade clashed into the fiery sabre held in the woman's tight grip, and Leodred almost dropped his sword at the sheer force behind the blow as the impact shuddered up his arm and shook his bones.

The boy could feel his teeth rattling together as he tried to replicate a technique that his father had taught him to deflect the strength behind an attack elsewhere instead of absorbing it fully, but he couldn't do it without the blade cleaving into him and tearing his lean body apart so instead he was forced to take all of the power on his sword, which thankfully didn't crack under the pressure because it was of artisan quality – even so, Leo reminded himself, the fact that the blade was of stout Lucaelian origin meant that it would be reliable and dependable and never give into the forces of darkness just like the holy kingdom's hardy inhabitants. The woman simply glared at him with her red eyes, although there was a vague tint of incredulity in them as if she was surprised that he would pull such a reckless move against her, and Leodred smiled grimly before crying out as her blast of dark magic hit him square in the stomach, sending him stumbling backwards as the solid bolt of spiralling darkness crashed into his lower abdomen and threatened to knock him off balance, stabs of impact pain like he had been just trampled over by a loxodon Summoning resounding through his body as he gritted his teeth.

Leodred clamped his mouth shut, knowing that giving into the pain or even concentrating on it would allow it to overwhelm him as he generated his protective White mana into the place where the damage was the worst, knowing that the Master of Gluttony's magic could easily be saturated with crippling spells that would hinder his movements and speed, so to combat that he infused his own mana with a disenchanting spell so that the curses wouldn't get a hold upon him. He was aware that the magic was just meant to ruin his balance and make him an easy prey for her sword that was hungry for his ruination, but it still hurt quite a bit and had hit him before he had activated any of his shields and as such probably damaged his ribs, if not quite broke them as he would be in a lot more pain if the impact of substantial and formless Black mana had.

Leo just managed to pull away before the woman disengaged herself and sent a flaming strike arcing at him, prior to spinning around and launching a blistering display of fire at Valour who had just been about to assault her with his spear, Ilentia completed out manoeuvring her opponents to a ridiculous degree as the sword of Malice and the shadowy figure that had formed from the single tendril wielding the malevolent scimitar held off Glory and Carlis, the blade's personality suffusing the Black mana with a kind of limited sentience as it attacked the general and his incarnation. The curved sword of some unusual Welkalite metal that channelled the passionate Red mana within it flashed by Leodred's face, missing the skin by mere inches as he could feel the heat resonating off the blade evaporating the sweat and unholy blood on his face with an extremely unpleasant sizzling sound and stinging pain, leaving tiny particles of salt on his cheeks and brow before he pulled away and the Tempest of Craving once again covered his pale face with more blood and more gore in its endless rain of claret fluid upon the damned City of Usnaan.

Leo blocked another arcing strike on his sword, feeling his wrist (as he had been forced to let go of the weapon with his left hand so that he could impeded this attack and stop it from hacking into him, which would have left irreparable damage) aching under the strain and the abuse of repeatedly having to stop these blows, as because of the sheer speed of Ilentia that was elevated to insane levels by her chaotic but sinister (far more than other Welkalites, as the current Master of Gluttony's Black mana had much more influence than her Red) Black and Red mana that far eclipsed his own quite fast movements he was unable to dodge the vast majority of strikes. He swept his free hand round, his mailed fist coated with a sheen of White mana that would add to the power of his punch and discharge light from his knuckles, but the fist was met by a spray of shadows that materialised out of nothing and wrapped around it.

A burst of incandescence from his closed hand destroyed a few of the chains of solid blackness, but the rest of them swarmed around his hand and dug into his fingers, piercing through the hard metal of his gauntlets and through the fabric that made wearing mail gloves bearable, into the fragile soft skin hidden underneath. It drew blood as it stabbed into his fingers, but what was more pressing were the unnatural magical toxins that Leo detected being injected into his bloodstream as he mustered his White mana to try and combat them, diverting the light energy that had been pooling up in his stomach to his hand so that it didn't become too damaged or paralysed by the malignant curses now rushing through his veins as an extremely painful stinging sensation that had him almost recoiling instinctively from the Master of Gluttony, as if moving away from the Welkalite woman would somehow reduce the intensity of the agony.

So focussed on the damage to his hand, Leodred didn't see Ilentia grinding Fire against his sword and displaying incredible flexibility by launching a kick into him before it was too late, the flash of her leg whipping through the air towards him registering a split second too late as all the Montlea could do was close his eyes involuntarily. The pain was instantaneous and blinding, crashing through his skull with the force of a thousand suns exploding behind his eyes as his altitude suddenly decreased, sending him tumbling backwards as the detonation of pain resounded through his skull.

The final Aegis of Athela had protected Leo from the worst of the agony and the force of the kick that would have shattered straight through his skull and smashed into his brain, sending jagged spikes of bone stabbing into his mind and causing him permanent and crippling brain damage if not killing him outright, but Leodred wasn't aware of that and could only focus on the splintering whiteness flashing around in his head as he skidded across the blood-slick ground, not sure whether he still had his sword or not clenched in his grip. He forced his eyes to wrench open, tears misting his vision as blood poured into them from a cut above his left eye, thankful that he had at least pulled away fast enough that the woman's boot didn't blind him forever, and as he blinked again, the world too blurry to focus on in his pain, his surroundings snapped into terrible focus and fear that was somehow worse than the agony shuddered through his mind and sent cold clawing up his spine.

He was leaning against a broken market stall that would have, only yesterday, been covered by the most extravagant and ostentatious delicacies from all across the New Empire of Passion as the final day of the Emperor's Banquet drew to a close and those from the Order of Gluttony gorged upon all of the food available in an orgy of debauched consumption, and as he blearily looked upwards and let out a pathetic mewl of pain he could see the Master of Gluttony launching herself through the air towards him, wasting no time with her almost incapacitated opponent now that the shield of almost invulnerability that had been protecting him was gone. Her sabre was help above her head and reversed, ready to plunge into the boy and impale him, and Leodred tried to move before finding his arm stuck underneath one of the heavy beams of wood that had held up the destroyed stall that must have fallen across his legs in his journey through the air towards where he was now, and fear burst its way through his mind, accompanied by a ringing noise that indicated he had suffered a concussion, which made said consider the impact to his head that he had taken.

However, as he tried to conjure up mana to blast the timber apart so that he could get away from the Master of Rapture, the Black magic that had been running through his hand rushed through his body, converting the White that he tried to muster into Black mana that he couldn't use that simply leaked out of the small holes in the fingers of his left hand, and he raised his sword that he was squeezing his fingers round the wooden haft of with a white-knuckled grip harder than he had ever held something in his life (including the sword that he had gripped on the night that the civil war orchestrated by a traitorous Lucerna had truly begun) in a pathetic gesture of defiance that wouldn't stop Ilentia in any way, but it was all he could do as the rest of him was trapped.

Carlis saw Leodred fighting against the Master of Gluttony and cried out when her lashing kick caught him full in the face, the Aegis of blessed Athela who was holding off the greater demon – the Archdemon of Greed, although it apparently wasn't an Archdemon which was one solemn blessing lonely amidst a host of curses – even now that had saved the general's daughter cracking apart in front of his eyes as his son was sent flying backwards, smashing into a market stall that was flimsy with the amount of unnatural blood the sodden timbers holding it upright had absorbed and sending the stall falling over, splinters embedding themselves in the gaps in his son's armour although that was the least of his current worries as a beam of wood landed on the boy's legs with a painful impact. Carlis almost died then as he shouted his son's name again, the malicious blade that was seeming to take pleasure from his distress and emotional pain at seeing his beloved son in such a perilous situation nearly hacking into him as it took advantage of the rather large distraction of his only son nearly dying before his eyes with him powerless to stop it, before the staff of Glory arced round and the being bellowed in the ancient language of the heavens at the mass of shadows controlled by the almost sentient master crafted sabre and renewing its attack, its master's desperation for his son infusing its strikes with more power as Carlis's protective instinct that had developed ever since he became a father and had two tiny hands wrapping around each of his own large and long thumbs a few days over eighteen years ago sparked into overdrive by the cry of pain Leodred shouted.

Glory lashed at the shadows with its staff, the White mana carving a swathe through the wriggling darkness that was forming more of itself from the disturbing black blood of Ilentia and drinking upon the woman's life fluids, but more corrupt blackness replaced the gaps in it as the blade lashed out again, blocked by Carlis's longsword as he glanced fearfully over at his son again, his heart rising into his mouth as the Master of Gluttony didn't delay in advancing quickly on the boy. Carlis's strikes became more frantic, and he recalled a technique that he had learned from Glory long ago that he hadn't used often because of its risk but would do so now because anything was worth preserving the lives of his innocent young children that he still and would forever see as a little girl and boy instead of two adults.

The elemental looked at him with its mysterious and guarded eyes, and Carlis saw that it seemed to understand what he wanted to do, and that they would probably never see each other again after this, and as the man pulled White mana from within him to the fore the incarnation let go of its staff that hovered in the air, forming up behind him as he held off the malicious blade of Ilentia that kept attacking him as if sensing that its brief independence would soon end if he was allowed to continue on with this course of action. Glory hovered above Carlis like a guardian angel, and the man silently nodded his thanks to the elemental that had served him all these years that he had never had to use this skill, a shield of iridescent White shielding him and burning away the questing tendrils of shadow that thrust themselves at him and his Summoning, the only thing that could damage him the sword that he was preventing from striking with his own.

Glory's four wings detached from its strange body in four opposite directions, the White mana from the elemental flowing around Carlis as he gazed desperately at his baby boy as the Master of Gluttony leapt towards him with Valour far too late to intercept her and sacrifice its current Summoning for his Summoner, the ritual taking far too long as he willed it to speed up, adrenaline pumping through his body as the need to protect his son fulminated throughout his limbs and pulsed to the extremities of his body, filling them all with White mana as the four wings attached to his back, Glory's substance dissolving into him as the creature sacrificed its life – this one and its permanent existence in Sancturia – to save the life of its Summoner's youngest child.

Carlis shot towards the stricken form of Leodred as Ilentia flew through the air towards him, his wings from the sacrifice of glory coupled with the shimmering sphere of protection and grace that surrounded him augmenting his speed and allowing him to fly to the aid of his son, piercing straight through the shadows that screamed as he broke through them and the sword was too slow to reach him as Carlis shouted a battle cry that exemplified his anger at anyone touching his children and the need to avenge the Spears of Justice that had been torn apart by the Master of Gluttony. He knew that this move was foolhardy and stupid, but he couldn't care less because his children were in danger, and as Ilentia's blade sliced through the air towards the terrified Leo who was ready to face his death in the face without screaming or being pathetic.

The two swords met once again, the enhanced and enchanted Carlis crashing into Ilentia and sending her away from his son as his longsword strained against her destructive and emotional blade as Red and White mana strained against each other, bursts of fire on light at either side exploding and showering the two in orange and white luminescence as Ilentia glowered at him, irritated at being stopped from finishing one of her opponents once again and beginning to detest this nameless man that had thwarted her every move as he overpowered Fire, the light coiling round his armoured limbs in an almost blinding intensity as he launched another powerful strike at the recoiling Master of Gluttony who was more annoyed than anything at this sudden reversal and being on the defensive once again just as she caught the scent of a kill.

It was surprising, to say the least, this sudden burst of irritation and detestation within Ilentia's mind, as while she wasn't addicted to violence like some others it was an enjoyable experience and she could see well how some became intoxicated by the prospect of bloodshed and the murder of hated enemies, and the hatred of having her targets – her prey – escape her that had been spawned when the Resistance that she had scoured from the sewers of this sprawling city had teleported away from her flared within her mind as she blocked the strike, incandescence violently discharged into her and met by a wall of flames that rushed through Fire as opposing mana colours battled in a war for dominance against each other as she beheld the shining eyes of the Lucaelian who had sacrificed his Summoning so that he could be here to protect his son, his irises still brown but his pupils filled with righteous luminescence that Ilentia wanted to cut out of him and trample over.

She strained against his sword, her sinewy muscles tensing as she tried to overpower the man, but the new auras encapsulating his being were augmenting his strength to extremely formidable levels as he pushed against her. Ilentia felt her feet slipping across the slick ground that had been made slippery by the Rain of Gore as the sword that was blazing with sanctimonious light pressed against Fire and threatened to overcome it. Ilentia couldn't deal with this, and called Arrapackxia from where he was toying with his prey of the angel so that the demon could help her against this new threat. She sent a frustrated glance over at him for a brief moment as she lost more ground against the Lucaelian, blocking a pulse of light with her own shadows as they were shredded by the holy illumination and destroyed by the heavenly power of the luminosity outputted by the general that she hadn't bothered to learn the name of, and the demon dodged a shining blow from the angel that he was fighting and had enough time to grin down at her self-assuredly, the malicious smile visibly radiating arrogance and hubris (two qualities that were extremely common when it came to demons no matter how powerful they actually were, and characteristics that usually passed down to their Summoners but hadn't in the unique case of Ilentia) and exposed sharpened fangs dripping with blood from the Rain of Gore that Arrapackxia must have lapped up with his tongue.

As the man came at her again, his eyes full of a vengeful desire to avenge his soldiers as well as the punishment wreaked upon his children (the stupid Lucaelian probably blamed her for what had happened to the idiotic girl who had tried to heal with the unholy storm raining blood down upon her), Ilentia conjured up the shadowy chains of substantial darkness that wrapped around her greater demon and would bring it to heel, force the petulant and childish demon to obey her will and aid her in the wider battle against these Lucaelians that she had almost defeated entirely on her own. Instead of shrieking in pain, clawing on the rope of shadows that represented Ilentia's dark will but nevertheless coming to her aid and obeying her directives, Arrapackxia snorted derisively and pulled the steely tether of Black mana off of his neck, grinning down at Ilentia before turning back to his fight with the angel.

Sorry, my dear, but I am enjoying myself quite a bit in dealing with this self-righteous whore of an angel and I have recently fed enough not to have to obey your commands, so you will have to deal with the little humans down there yourself, Arrapackxia's sarcastic voice was polite, almost gentlemanly, but it was entirely unwelcome in Ilentia's head and it brought on a spike of pain similar to how she felt when flashbacks sprang upon her when she saw something that sparked the sudden and overwhelming remembrance of a former experience, although the every syllable dripped with a mocking undertone that did little to conceal the demon's hatred of her due to the fact that he had been pulled unwillingly out of the dark nether of Sancturia and forced to serve under her through the contract of the Infernal Bargain, and the taunting inflection to the voice that painfully spoke through Ilentia's mind increased in intensity, Unless, of course, you can't defeat them by yourself? And if that is the case then surely you are not powerful enough to be commanding me?

I am going to enjoy punishing you after this, Ilentia thought resentfully, though she had no idea whether or not the disgruntled and challenging greater demon heard as it turned back to the oblivious Athela and swung a virulent strike at her with its long claws. However, she had little time to be messing around with demons, and it was with no fear whatsoever that she acknowledged that she was truly on her own in this – in fact it was exactly how she preferred it, and it had been met with great success so far until this point. Just like in her former life, Ilentia had to rely upon her skills and her wits to survive (as her frightened and cowardly younger brother that she had once thought was innocent and cute but now despised had been little help in the slums of Usnaan) and emerge triumphant against all odds, and she concealed a smile when she noted that the man was clearly over extending himself to the point where he would be a complete idiot – which was not what Ilentia had seen of him so far but was inclined to think about his less than intelligent son – in the defence of his still trapped son.

The wound in her side had sealed up now, which was good as the sensation of her own frankly startling black blood running down her leg wasn't the most pleasant, though the pain hadn't really bothered the Master of Gluttony in the first place as she decided that because the Summoning of the man that could switch the type of protection that was in place had been sacrificed to allow him to gain more power (talk about hypocrisy) then he wouldn't be able to change the shielding against Black mana – which Ilentia preferred but didn't rely exclusively upon like her egotistical demon – that was surrounding him. At any rate, there was no harm in trying apart from expending her still high mana reserves whereas she was pretty sure that the Lucaelian was at the end of his rope with no Summoning remaining, and if he did change the spheres to be able to nullify Red mana then she could strike with Black before he had chance to change it back.

Furthermore, the man had three glaring weaknesses whereas Ilentia had none, the other three members of his party that were all wounded and hurt whilst the Master of Gluttony had no attachments that would slow here down, and while Ilentia didn't have enough time to review the positions of the angelic Summoner and the girl the scared brat of a boy was still fixed firmly in her sight and still stuck underneath the market stall and suffering because of the poisonous magic she had cast upon him. With a sense of amusement hidden under her veneer of seriousness and sheer anger and frustration directed at her demon she noticed that the ethereal warrior that the teenage male had Summoned came to the side of the man she was now facing before he dismissed it with a shake of his head in the direction of his trapped son, though both he and Ilentia knew than he needed the help now that the shock of his new power had run out and the Master of Gluttony was already thinking of how she could defeat the desperate man.

Even though it was immensely uncharacteristic of her, Ilentia forced a contemptuous smile onto her features as she spat mockingly, "I bet you are wishing that you didn't bring your young brats onto a battlefield now, aren't you?" in an attempt to bait him or disrupt his concentration, thought the Master of Gluttony wasn't entirely sure whether her seething anger bled out of the words or not. Even so, the man still bristled at the taunting words as the two pressed their swords against each other, Ilentia bringing her strength to bear once again as mana swirled up from within her and forcing him to take a step back again, her resentment of her demon and the Lucaelians that were threatening her existence – the only thing precious to her in this life – and had stopped her from completing her kills heightening the rush of Black mana through her veins which was not entirely useful because of the shield safeguarding the man against the magic of darkness but she could utilise it to increase her physical strength.

Ilentia lashed out a violent kick at the Lucaelian soldier, aiming her leg at his head until he let go of his sword with one hand and gripped her slender ankle with his gauntlet, the shining mana of White that was gathering in the large fingers searing the woman's flesh at the grasp, and so to help with the vision that she had been caught off guard she let out a gasp of pain that wasn't entirely faked because the agony of having the pale skin that had clothed her since her dark revival at the hands of the (then Master) Archlord of Rapture that she could no longer sense (although it was fully possible that the mass of Red and Black mana near to the Palace of Desire was blocking him out) scorched off of the bone was something to behold. Normally Ilentia wouldn't have made a sound, but she wanted to give her opponent the impression that he was gaining an edge over her and would be able to finish her and return to his children soon, though Ilentia was not intending to land her soul in Arrapackxia's grubby claws any time in the foreseeable future.

Carlis grabbed hold of the woman's leg as she arced an overhead kick at him whilst still straining against his longsword in a way that she had done against Leodred and caught the boy off guard by doing so, and while normally Carlis wouldn't have been that concerned at a woman of that size launching a kick at him (apart from in his head region) since he was wearing full plate armour everywhere but his head, but Ilentia had already shown that she was possessed of a massive physical strength and could have easily killed him in that one blow had he not halted the kick with his hand. He felt himself slipping across the ground as he absorbed the force of the blow, his hands that were coated with purifying White mana dissolving the corrupted skin of the Master of Gluttony as she hissed in pain at him, perhaps not anticipating the effects of the magic of light that was saturating Carlis's limbs, although regardless of the pain she was still grinding her scimitar against his relic sword and preventing him from bringing it to bear and tearing her apart.

He increased the intensity of his grip, wondering if he would be able to break the woman's bones with his strength and doubting it, instead channelling more mana into his contact with the Welkalite in the hope that it would cause even more pain and perhaps distract or weaken her enough so that he could land a decisive blow, though he could feel his reserves of mana running out now that Glory was no longer with him and protecting him. Then the woman twisted in his grip, arching her back and pulling her sword away from his, a gigantic amount of Red mana suddenly brought to the fore as it ran through her sword, a huge ball of fire that evaporated the bloody rain all around it quickly released towards the still confined and trapped Leodred as Valour had only just reached his side, the mana one of the most powerful Carlis had ever sensed.

As time slowed down around him and adrenalized blood pounded in the man's head, he noticed that the inferno rushing towards his thrashing son was just slow enough to be stopped by him, slower than most of the fireballs she had fired, although whether that was because of the amount of mana focussed into it making it cumbersome and restricting its purpose or the decrease in speed had been deliberate so that Carlis had to choose between himself and his only son and youngest child was unknown to the Montlea general. At any rate, when it came down to it, it was an easy choice.

As the mass of infernal flame sped towards his son, the boy raising his hands and forming a small shield around himself whilst Valour stood in front of him, although both of them knew it would not be enough, Carlis quickly executed a disarming movement on the Master of Gluttony who had inadvertently ruined her balance in casting the immense spell, ripping the sword out of her hand and sending it clattering away so that she could not stab him in the back or carve apart his legs as he sped towards his son, the four wings of Glory enhancing his swiftness until he became something akin to a speeding missile of white, silver and gold, his mind screaming at him to get there faster and save his son as the ball of fire moved gathered speed and rushed through the air towards the entrapped boy who was meeting death in the face for the second time this day, Carlis's eighteen year old son raising his hands in the hope that it might somehow protect him as the inferno closed in on his stricken position.

Carlis knew exactly what he had to do to guard his little boy (who was almost the same height as him but not as bulky as the general, still possessed of his teenage slimness and leanness despite the amount of time he spent toning his muscles and trying to build up more), as with Glory dead and the ribbon staff lying on the ground too far away he couldn't change his colour-specific defence to be able to nullify Red mana or create a powerful enough shield to prevent the flaming projectile from incinerating his son and immolating the pale flesh from his bones, and he was fully prepared to do it, a father's protective instinct overriding any thoughts of self-preservation or making sure that he himself didn't get hurt and pushing down the thoughts of how the remaining Lucaelians would be able to combat the Master of Gluttony with him severely wounded as he ran in front of the ball of snarling flames.

He focussed on Leodred's eyes as the burning agony consumed every single nerve he had and made him feel like each and every one of his pain receptors was set alight, making sure that he looked into the brown orbs because they might be the last things he ever saw and ignoring the smell of scorched and charred flesh that drowned his nostrils in its stench. Carlis could feel his plate armour melting but luckily not sticking to his skin because of the shield of mana he had just above the surface of his flesh that would prevent it from doing so, though the pain was still excruciating and immense and the man was sure that he screamed in torment even though he didn't want his son to hear that, the fire increasing in pressure against him as he held his arms (and Glory's gift of wings) out wide so that none of the flames could get through to his son and Valour, who was staring at him silently whereas Leodred's eyes were wide open in shock, fear and predominantly concern for his father as the burning sensation heightened in pain.

Carlis bit into his tongue as he focussed on blocking out the agony, thinking about the happy times in the past with his wife and his twin children instead of the torture crashing throughout his body, the coppery tang of his blood flowing around his mouth in a strange way that he shouldn't have been able to concentrate on since his entire back was alight in pain, but Carlis could disturbingly pinpoint every exact flavour of his blood, the iron rich and crimson fluid spurting out of his tongue in relatively small amounts as he ground his teeth against each other, staying resolutely quiet against the pain and refusing to let it overwhelm him.

Leodred cried out: "Dad!" as the man ran in front of the projectile of flames, a sense of almost overpowering guilt running through him as he realised that it was his own stupid fault that his and Elizabex's father had been forced into this position, and he was determined to atone for it as he thrashed his trapped limbs against the wood holding him down, ignoring the splinters that pierced his skin as well as the fact that one of his hands was numb and wouldn't move because of the crippling mana that Ilentia had cast upon him. He made sure to keep his dad's gaze as the man stared at him, the adult's own brown eyes screwed half closed in the pain that was rushing through him as the fire finally dissipated, most likely leaving him with sever burn wounds that would never heal, but that and a million times worse than it was worth it to protect his children and he would easily go through it again if they were in danger.

The man staggered forwards, sweat, ash and blood coating his pale and handsome face that had one or two scars on it from the violence of the civil war, and Leo was silenced by horror as he saw the scale of the injuries that were his doing inflicted upon his dad, one of the most important generals in the Kingdom of Light that they could ill afford to lose, but more than that Leodred hadn't had time to repay his father for the man bringing him up and fighting for him – fighting for them all – against the armies of the Arch-heretic lead by his best friend's only uncle. Then his mind was roused to action as he saw a dark shadow sweeping across the avenue to where Leodred and Carlis were situated and the teenager cried out in pure shock and horror, a warning to his dad that was too wounded to react his time and was still recovering from the abuse at the hands of the inferno that had been aimed at Leo.

"DAD!" Leodred cried, willing Valour to be faster and intercept the movement of the Master of Gluttony, but shadowy tendrils burst up from the ground and held the elemental warrior still as he barked in fury at being restrained by the vile grasp of the darkness, solid gloom inflected by bloody and arterial red snaking up the ethereal soldier of the Sanctum Angelica's armour and restraining him. Leodred was powerless to act but also powerless to look away as a dark blade pierced through his father's chest and heart, rending through the heavy and enchanted plate armour like it was nothing and sending a spray of blood fountaining over Leodred as he wailed like a young child and flailed in his restraints of sodden and moist wood that was now dripping with his dad's lifeblood.

The man let out a choked gasp of pain as the blade rammed through his heart, the parasitic and sadistic weapon having returned to Ilentia's grip just after the fireball had been launched and the Lucaelian had sped away, and his vision blurred through the pain as his mouth frothed with blood that crashed through his open lips as he coughed, the all-consuming suffering even worse than the agony he had endured at the fiery claws of Ilentia's flames as the blade protruding from him stabbed through his heart, his fingers scrabbling at the unyielding curved edge of the malicious sabre that greedily drank upon his pain, cutting apart the metal clad fingers as he tried to pull it away, like it would lessen his pain or cause him not to die as his son screamed his parental title at him again, tears of hurt spilling down the boy's young cheeks as he thrashed against his bonds, the shadows wrapping around Valour encircling him as well as he tried to come to his father's aid.

Carlis felt himself being lifted off of his feet as his body sagged, pressing against the crossguard of the malevolent sword as Ilentia hoisted him upwards, blood flooding his breathing system and windpipe and making it impossible to breathe as his body slowly gave out. He knew he was going to die, and while he didn't want to – he wanted to grow old with his wife, to see his beloved daughter and son be successful, revel in their achievements and meet his grandchildren to come – he knew that it was worth it because Elizabex and Leodred would live a little longer. Even so, he wanted to speak to his son, tell him one last time that he loved him and that this was in no way his fault, that every parent would do the same for their children infinite times over if it meant they could be safe, but as he tried to muster words all that came out was a meaningless gurgle and more blood that fountained out of his mouth.

Carlis belatedly and distractedly thought that he must look like how poor Emili had been on the night she had been killed (as he had entered the room just after Marik to see Prince Caiellis annihilate the demons), the demon's claws through her stomach and lifting her off her feet, and wondered if this would allow Leodred to empathise with young Caiellis more.

Carlis started to become desperate, knowing that Leodred would blame himself as his aghast son stared at him, his blood cascading down the youngster's face and cheeks as he leaned over to him, aware that he couldn't speak and that his body was shutting down as not only would the wounds alone kill him but toxic and corrupt fluids were running through his bloodstream and turning the once bright claret liquid a shade of darker and murky red, and he refused to let the tears that must have been brimming in his eyes at the realisation that he wouldn't be able to spend more time with his family rushed through him drip down his face. He would die with dignity, refuse to give in to the Master of Gluttony and fight the bitch until the end of his final breath. He reached towards the boy with his mailed fist, and tenderly brushed the tears from one side of his face away like he had used to when Leodred had been a reckless child and hurt himself or even when he had been a baby, and the eighteen year old was wracked with sobs as his father's loving brown eyes became glazed over and blank as he was ripped away and tossed aside by the vindicated Ilentia like Carlis was just some toy to be discarded when he no longer entertained the one playing with him.

The Master of Gluttony pondered saying something mocking and insulting to the boy who had just witnessed his father die because of his stupidity and folly, but Ilentia thought he had suffered enough and didn't feel that his personal family sadness was something she should interfere with. It was strange, she had enjoyed the kill and the prosecution of that violent act, but felt nothing but a sense of something she couldn't identify towards the idiotic boy that had caused the death of his dad, and stalked forwards silently, intending to put him out of his misery quickly and without unnecessary as he stared up at her with sorrowful and tear-filled eyes.

She readied the blade that she would plunge into his heart, Malice delighting at the suffering it had caused and eagerly awaiting the next kill, before a blast of pure light more powerful than she had felt so far from the Lucaelians hit her in the side, followed a second later by a potent swing of a large weapon. Ilentia let out an involuntary shriek of frustration mixed with pain at being thwarted again, and was sent flying backwards, agony exploding in her side as black blood gushed from the wounds as she based her head on the blood-slick rock of Banquet Street, a ringing noise ricocheting through her skull and bouncing on the inside walls in tandem with the pain.

The Master of Gluttony quickly pulled herself to her feet and leapt away a tiny moment before a huge pillar of light obliterated the place where she had been stood, and Ilentia sent a glance over to where she had last seen the girl. The teenager's face was alight with hatred and vengeful White man was coiling around her staff, buffeting her brown hair as she rose to her feet, but as Ilentia threw herself to the side when her instincts screamed at her to move a large axe that was covered in vibrant blood ejected from the Tempest of Craving crashed into the space she had previously occupied, sending shards of rock flying away from her.

Ilentia looked up and scowled into the face of the man whose arm she had chopped off with Malice and started this chain of events with, his pale Lucaelian features dripping with her black blood and contorted in detestation of her and a golden replacement arm of magic extending from the stump of his right elbow.

"Get the fuck away," Tristram growled at her, launching another spinning blow with his axe that sent juddering pains through her wrist when she blocked it on Malice, the malevolent blade less physically powerful than its passionate twin of Fire and as such less suited for blocking heavy blows, and the man's voice was full of hatred that made Ilentia think that perhaps she had made a mistake in killing the father man and should have instead left him incapacitated until she finished with the rest as he continued, "From the kids!"

.*.*.*.

Marik would have smiled at the fond memory of his interactions with two year old Caiellis and the remembrance of the old librarian who had died in the initial siege of the palace nine year ago at the outset of the civil war, if he could have mustered up any other expression and thought other than rage that coursed through him at the entrapment within his mind, unable to aid his obstinate but well-intentioned little boy against the force of a Red and Black Archdemon, and the smile that the last remaining piece of the horror Aksua had been given as a Summoning wore with its distended mouth, the bleached white teeth smugly grinning at him from the face that defied human comprehension incensing him further.

What was worse was the fact that he knew the smile didn't belong to the horror itself, or if it did then it was specifically designed in a certain way, as it reminded him heavily of Johnias's arrogant and self-assured grin that he had worn the first time they had met in the civil war where Marik had sustained some of the scars on his lower abdomen that had faded but were still there even today, which just showed how much the bastard brother of the king was enjoying messing with his sibling's life.

Marik tried once again to somehow force himself out of his mind, wielding his anger like a weapon despite the fact that there was an undercurrent of fear that was turning into desperation running through his head, a parental fear that he had become well accustomed to over the past few days despite barely feeling it for nine years of not seeing his sons, the fact that he had completely and utterly banished all thoughts of his innocent little boys from his mind proving essential in obtaining victory over the forces of the Arch-Heretic after the man had ripped apart his kingdom and armies and Marik removed Marik the Father and Husband from his mind, fully assuming the cold role of Marik the Supreme King which he had remained within until Alexander's defiant plea for him to care about his sons that had snapped his fatherly instinct into focus with the issue of Caiellis's self-harming.

Now that Marik had met and come to know his sons for the wonderful young men that they were he would find it almost impossible to set aside his parental thoughts again – as he had nearly not been able to in the civil war, but it had been the worry and fear for his two sons that had cost him several potential victories and ended the lives of both Guardian Axeclion and young Hierarch Mithres no matter how he wanted to look at it. He knew that Caiellis needed his help, had seen his youngest son wounded, battered and exhausted after holding off the Archdemon all alone until Marik came to help – although I'm not entirely sure falling unconscious/something else that I don't know is helping him in any way, but since Akroma isn't here I can only assume that the Angel of Wrath is still in the physical world and hopefully battling the demon with him while I act pathetic and useless.

Self-loathing infused Marik's mind, as well as his paternal fright for both of his sons that he wanted to have in his sight when they were in war at all times so that he could protect them irrespective of what they thought of each other outside of the battlefield, and Caiellis needed to survive so that the king could apologise to his youngest son now that he knew the cause of his rage – whether the thirteen year old would accept and forgive – as he wouldn't have at that age – remained to be seen, but that was something to ponder after this ended.

He stood up once again from where he had been sat in one of the many hard wooden seats in the war cathedral in his mind after plunging into his memories of Caiellis, although the probably sick motives behind making him forcefully remember the times of happiness that he had spent with his second son (as well as his first but these were clearly aimed at Caiellis and any occurrences of Alexander (or indeed Emili) within them were purely coincidental) were still unknown to him, the horror answering cryptically every time he attempted to beat the knowledge out of it or demanded to have an answer, the black being seemingly amused by his anger because they both knew that at the moment it was impotent.

"Sit down, Mariky-boy, we haven't finished the tour yet!" the horror's taunting and complacent voice warbled, like the wail of a child shrieking at uncaring and ignorant parents, and Marik smashed apart with his large fist a fleshy tendril of shadows that languidly reached towards him, the horror stretched out on the rows of benches in the strategium-esque church room comfortably like it was the master of this place, although at the current moment it had complete control of Marik's mind as he tried to force it off, railing against the horror's dominance with every fibre of his being and hoping that it was having some effect on whatever was happening back in reality. Marik had dealt with enough arrogant forces of the forsaken nether to know that the invader of his psyche would continue to act smug and conceited no matter how much disruption Marik was causing to make its victim feel like they were achieving nothing and should just submit to the control of the horror, but even so he had no way of discerning the consequences of his furious resistance as he dodged another lashing tentacle, this one flung with more force as a thought popped into his head.

The horror shouted to him like an exasperated adult trying to reason with a petulant and impertinent child, "Don't force me to come and make you complete it, Mariky-boy. You wouldn't want to see me angry, trust me."

The horror's sibilant voice that was like dark and corrupt honey poured into the eldest Lucerna's ear was almost drowned out by his heavy footfalls on the wooden ground as he ran to the door on the other side of the room. He grasped the handle, but predictably it was closed and no amount of wrenching with his strength could force it open, so instead he took a step back and rammed his shoulder (that wasn't wearing armour as Marik's current representation of himself in his mind was simply clad in plain fabric clothing) into the dark mahogany that was decorated by ornate and magisterial silver etchings. It didn't budge, and the resounding boom of the impact echoed around the large chamber, but that didn't dissuade Marik from trying again, taking another step back as he could hear the shadow interloper to his personal mind that made him feel violated tutted disapprovingly in the background.

The man rammed his large body into the door again, knowing that it wasn't the act itself that would achieve anything within his mind that was under the control of the horror intruder that had once belonged to Aksua – who must have been under the command of Johnias or still had ways of contacting him -, but the thought of throwing off the yoke of dominance and restoring control of his mind and the mental power put behind it that would serve to free him from the horror's clutches, and if he was powerful enough and could muster enough mind power within him then he would be able to leave his mind and protect Caiellis, embrace his duty as a father and a king and slay the blight on the land that was the Archdemon instead of leaving his fragile youngest son to deal with it himself.

The wood cracked this time, a jagged split splintering down its length as the horror sighed exaggeratedly. Marik rammed the door one final time, fully prepared for what he would probably see on the other side. The horror was there, as he had expected, materialising out of thin air and grinning at him like he was being caught off guard or surprised by this parlour trick magic, but Marik continued on with his charged, crashing into the solid and wriggling shadows that made up the wretched child of the abyss that was similar to other nations' visualisations of the underworld. The horror fell back as he attacked unexpectedly, his reckless movements aiding his surprise factor in a way that was oddly reminiscent of how Caiellis had fought that final time against his older brother whilst Marik had watched them sparring, lunging forwards and slamming his fist into what passed for a head of the mind and dream invader that had trapped his youngest son in its vile embrace whilst Aksua fed upon Alexander and was threatening to keep Marik here, with potentially dire consequences for Caiellis.

The horror shrieked, an unholy sound of pain that pierced through Marik's eardrums and almost had him holding his head in agony as the headaches that had been caused by this being fell upon him in even greater pounding intensity than ever before, but Marik could not stop now, he could not give into the pain now because his baby boy's life depended upon it and he would be damned if he died before he and Caiellis came to good terms with one another. Then the denizen of the netherworld smiled at him once again, instantly snapping back on itself from where it had been reeling back from Marik's powerful strikes and wrapping tendrils of darkness round the king as he tried to leap past this interloper. To Marik's credit, he managed to slip out of the cold and nausea inducing touch as he sprinted past the horror, running down the corridor that was lit by several candles and braziers hanging on the stone walls.

His footfalls – for some reason he wasn't wearing any shoes, just socks – were incredibly loud and induced more crashing pain within the Lucerna patriarch's head, the world shaking around him as it felt like someone was systematically smashing every nerve in his head – which the horror probably was. As he ran at full pelt through his mind that had become his prison, not caring where he went because the simple act of running that represented freedom would help his efforts to break out of the hold the horror Johnias had sent had on his mind, his feet taking him far into his mind down some corridors that were familiar and others that weren't.

As he ran, not pausing to consider his surroundings and simply choosing whichever next corridor was the closest and didn't require a closed door to access, the candles that were weakly illuminating the inside of the war cathedral/citadel fortress of Akroma had their light snuffed out, plunging the areas behind the king into darkness as the only source of luminosity within the place was extinguished, smacking of Johnias's penchant for the melodramatic and showing off his dark power. Snaking shadows shifted past the king as he ran, his lungs on fire like he was very young once again and not able to run from the darkness. It reminded him heavily of his own Summoning trial, whereby a similar thing had happened and he had been thrown into this same cathedral and had to run from a similar being of darkness and shadows that had chased him.

However, he had always been caught no matter how far he ran, and every time he had run but been cornered and he had attempted to fight he had been overwhelmed and failed the trial, until finally on the day that his slightly older twin had completed his own Summoning test and Summoned poor Serenity Marik had been filled with youthful pride and brimming with the need to succeed and not give his cold and judging father another reason to ignore him, he had passed his own test set by Akroma. It had been simple, really. All he had had to do was rush at the indescribable creature of the mind that had been the product of all of his fears of the darkness and of failure with utter certainty in his mind – which meant that even running for a bit would end unsuccessfully – and fight his fears. Nothing dramatic like giving his own life to succeed, just being willing to confront anything that came his way instead of running from his inner terror, but most of all being able to defeat it as well – it was all well and good to recklessly launch himself at the terrifying problem, but he had been forced to show that he had the martial skill required to defeat the foe of his own psyche and born from his own nightmares.

However, Marik had already established the futility of trying to destroy the horror through his own physical and mental might, and while one could say that his defeatist attitude was the current cause of his downfall one would only say that had they not had a piece of Marik's mind – he believed with utter certainty that he could leave his mind because it belonged to him and he refused to acknowledge the alternative of leaving his army and two young sons for dead, especially Caiellis who had clearly been depending upon him for help and who he needed to apologise to for his violent actions – truly apologise to now that he knew the true cause of them. Marik only wished that he had pursued the reason behind his abhorrent violence towards his son – violence that he would never had dreamed of before the civil war, his sons were his and Emili's flesh and blood and nothing would harm them, least of all himself – instead of simply attributing it to how angry Caiellis had made him with his constant and grating defiance, and thinking about how next to punish his son in an attempt to stop him.

Although to be fair to Marik Caiellis had overstepped numerous boundaries and crossed several lines in his arguing and if the king was honest with himself if he had been acting normally it probably wouldn't have been long before he had hit Caiellis with the angry but cold force vaguely exhibited by his father, although Garius had been seething with anger as well at some points in the past and not just beating Marik with the desire to discipline him but with the desire to release some of that anger. However, even with Caiellis's constant defiance Marik still found it hard to countenance hurting his youngest son physically, not just because he knew that the violence wouldn't silence the impertinent boy (well, it would, for a short while until Caiellis rebuilt his confidence and his fury sparked into life once again), not just because of his fragility compared with Marik's very high amount of physical strength, but because the thirteen year old was his son and no matter that it wasn't the same without Emili Caiellis's well being was still his responsibility.

Nonetheless, the king had little time to think of this as he ran through the darkened corridors of his own mind, the fluttering flames of the candles dotting the walls with their warm spheres of light continually snuffed out and smothered by the gathering shadow. Twisting and wriggling tendrils of tenebrosity and gloom snaked across the stone walls as Marik ran past them, reaching towards him with their quivering arms of darkness before the king sped out of their range of motion, and through it all Marik could hear the conceited laughter of the mind horror who had quite a large part to play in the wounding of his precious and selfless eldest and would hopefully not be given the chance to have a role in any more pain directed towards fragile Caiellis.

Perhaps Marik shouldn't think of his family, should focus exclusively upon the need to achieve victory like he had in the civil war – the type of thinking that he had filled his mind with during the war that had lead to his victory in it, expelling all thoughts of family apart from the need to avenge perfect and murdered by cowards Emili out of his head and filling it with only stratagems for defeating the degenerate and traitorous armies of his twin brother – but this was a battle of the mind, not a battle of armies and men that he had to command and lead to triumphant victory, and now that he had seen his sons again after nine years he had built up a connection to them, especially thoughtful and easier to get on with Alexander, so thinking of what he now cared about instead of simply purposeless and hollow victory that was driven by the need for vengeance against his fraternal twin brother that had ruined his perfect and impossible improve family would serve to aid him in this effort to escape the prison of his own psyche.

The being was playing games with him, that much was for certain, and it seemed to be deriving a sick perversion of enjoyment from watching him struggle and try to flee that was similar to how Johnias in the civil war had enjoyed tearing down everything that he had tried to build up and establish within the kingdom, ripping apart Marik's success with his envy of it as if it would make the fact that he had not been crowned the supreme king with the death vision of Garius II a less bitter pill to swallow. He wondered how much control his brother had over this horror now, how much Johnias was or had been able to watch his actions through the mind parasite inserted within him that had fuelled his genuine rage and turned it nasty, and Marik could remember the invader of his most prized personal space telling him that him pinning down his own son on the bed and restricting his breathing had been added by Johnias himself.

Whether that was meant to be a taunt and actually had no base within factuality was unknown to the king, who would not put it past the heavily corrupted man at all to design the actions in an attempt to widen the ever-growing rift between him and his youngest boy or simply to provide some amusement in his currently unknown plans. If it had been the doing of the Arch-Heretic, this would be the most overt thing he had directly done in the past month or so, as Garod Morr's actions in apparently inadvertently attacking the train that held his youngest son seemed to have no correlation with Johnias's schemes, although several leaders on the side of the darkness (such as generals in the Grafnica Dominion) had reportedly thrown their subordinates into situations that they had no hope to prevail in to get them out of the way or to prevent the growth of a rival, a strategy shown by the Welkalites and most probably the now dead Tradax in placing expendable leaders and captains leading the ultimately delaying armies situated in the cities and forts blocking the Lucaelian progression to Usnaan.

It could have been a lie to make him worried about the progress of Johnias and therefore think less about other potential foes, or make him extremely concerned for his sons – in particular Caiellis; perhaps it was meant to bait him into mistrusting his youngest son now that he had very good reason to be opposed to his father and the Black mana inside of him, but Marik knew that no matter how much they argued and quarrelled incessantly with each other Caiellis wouldn't do anything to hurt him, though Marik didn't know if that was because he was a naturally gentle boy and still loved his father deep down or solely for Alexander's sake.

However, he needed to stop thinking of Johnias and his potential plans and what was the reason behind trapping him in his Mind Realm – ruminating over that could come after he had defeated the Welkalites and the Archdemon that they had Summoned within their city, and he didn't want to have to find out the reasoning for the horror trapping him within his head at this pivotal point in the war. It was entirely possible the being was simply a sadistic servant of Black mana that had read through some of his memories or heard of the Fallen Lucerna and decided to taunt him to entertain its own vile sense of amusement, and was serving its own ends in revenge for having the greater part of its being and its accursed Summoner killed by Marik and his Angel of Wrath instead of being part of some greater plan involving Johnias, but Marik would have no way to tell and he could take nothing that the horror said at face value. That meant he had to resort to the tried and tested method of dealing with those that either had been born in the darkness or had traded the light for it in the pursuit of unholy and undeserved power, which was simply to not listen to them nor let their words have any effect and purge them from existence before they could cause too much damage.

As Marik ran, his footsteps pounding in his head as the world shook in the throes of an excruciating headache that he now knew the cause of as the horror dug its insipid tentacles into his mind, he thought of his two sons stuck inside of the city with him. Although he was worried about them both immensely, knowing that Alexander was still recovering from the life-threatening wounds that had almost snatched his precious eldest away from him, in truth Marik was far more concerned about Caiellis because of the fact that the boy was a lot weaker than his older brother due to the age gap and the premature birth that had affected him even though his height and thinness could be attributed to his age and the fact that he hadn't quite gone through his growth spurt yet instead of his tumultuous birth, and because while Alexander may be fighting against powerful enemies even now there was no way that they would be stronger than an Archdemon.

Emili had always told him never to compare their children and instead revel in their individual characteristics and skills, and while Marik had tried and succeeded to adhere to that before the war it was hard now that they were teenagers fully capable of fighting in war and helping the kingdom in the age-old tradition of their birthright. When they had been younger, when war had seemed unlikely as the aggressive Welkalites could be dissuaded with a combined force of the Yentarian Republic (that Marik had reaffirmed their alliance with after the war but not spoken to them during it) and the Kingdom of Lucael, he hadn't needed to measure his sons against each other, but now that war was upon them Marik found himself unavoidably and increasingly comparing and contrasting the two, something he had done ever since getting back from the civil war where his mind had still been stuck in the set of fighting against Johnias and preparing forces to hunt him down.

Now that he was forced to compare them against each other as a king and as their leader and overall commander rather than their father, Marik was finding Caiellis increasingly less adept when measured against his older brother, as he lacked strength and durability without his magic and that was something that every Lucerna needed to be able to fight in war and stay at the forefront of the army throughout battles. Furthermore, the thirteen year old seemed to not possess the aggressive stint and inclination owned by both his father and elder brother, although the fact that he had thrown himself into the centre of the city and killed the Archlord of Rapture alone seemed to offer an alternative perspective on that.

It was not that Caiellis couldn't tailor his personal strategies to be highly offensive at times, although until this point never anywhere near the amount of aggression in warfare his brother or Marik himself would display, it was just that while the boy was fine with selflessly hurling himself into dangerous situations if he had planned for it beforehand and calculated the chances of victory – as Caiellis had clearly been ready for whatever Tradax had tried to use to defeat him, and Marik wouldn't have put it past his son to compile what he knew of the Master of Rapture's personality and plan out the perfect strategy for overcoming and slaying him (it was just a shame that he hadn't been ready for the entrance of an Archdemon and had failed to stop that, but for a thirteen year old – although the fact he was a Lucerna made his achievement more swallow-able – defeating Tradax was quite the success if Marik was being honest) – he was extremely reticent to put his soldiers into risky positions to the point where it could compromise the entire strategy of the army or place them in even more danger as he tried and failed (as he had done now) to take every burden upon himself.

Then it suddenly hit Marik. The force of the obvious revelation could have caused him to stop running if his mind wasn't focussed upon keeping the distance between him and the cackling horror that had caused him to hurt his fragile youngest son, reinforcing his hatred of the being and of all of the collective forces of darkness with these thoughts of family rushing through his head – Marik hoped that by wielding his mind like a weapon he would be able to expel the horror from it and then surge awake to help his second son against the Archdemon that he hadn't been able to stop entering the world, not that the king really blamed his son. It was entirely possible – and very likely – that the Archdemon would have been Summoned without Caiellis's interference and would have attacked the Lucaelians as they tried to make their way through the Welkalite thronged city of Usnaan if the youngest Lucerna had not been there to delay it.

The king could have cursed at the fact that the realised took as long as it had done to click within his damned head, and while he would like to blame the disruption of the horror for that deep down he knew that it was his fault he had not seen it, that he had missed it because he was busy looking at things other than his children (especially his "failure" of a youngest), just like the anger that had caused Caiellis to be choked by the one who was supposed to protect him and keep him safe was from within Marik and not the cause of the mind invader, albeit it had been twisted into violence by the disgusting and vile abomination.

The reason why Caiellis wasn't harsh upon his soldiers, was reticent to push them to the absolute limit and risk their lives in the service of the kingdom in spite of whatever orders Marik may give him, was because he was only just thirteen years old. No matter that he had spent nine years of his very short life within the most brutal war to have come upon the kingdom in many decades of time, no matter that he was a Lucerna with a duty to the Kingdom of Light, a duty that could only be paid in blood and sacrifice as he used the power he was given to protect the innocent citizens of Lucael from the ever encroaching darkness of the abyss – all that was irrelevant, because Caiellis was only just into his teenage years, still growing and maturing physically and as a person in spite of the fact that he had been thrown into an adult role that would normally have been occupied by someone twice his age at least, and performed admirably despite disobeying his father and doing what he thought was right for his soldiers.

Caiellis was gentle with troops because he was a kind and young person, even under all of the angstiness that Marik guiltily knew that he had a major part in developing, and didn't quite understand the fact that they were soldiers and had been trained specifically for this type of warfare – they had been through some of the harshest and most punishing exercise regimes so that they could move from one battle to the next with minimal pause only to consolidate their victory. He didn't want to put them through too much strain because he was sympathetic and thoughtful, and would prefer to have a rested and fully operational force rather than a prudent but vaguely tired one, and Caiellis didn't want people to die.

Neither did Marik, but because the king was an adult with many years of experience with some of the most bloody and brutal warfare the world had ever seen under his metaphorical belt, he understood that in war sacrifices had to be made and that a few had to die so that the rest could prosper, whereas his youthful and unseasoned (as inexperienced wasn't quite the word because Marik knew that unfortunately his second son had a large amount of familiarity with violence) thirteen year old son thought about preserving the highest amount of lives possible within every battle instead of the amount of lives preserved in the long run.

He hadn't yet gained the emotional maturity to be able to countenance not being immensely careful with his soldiers, and Marik was immensely sorry that he had, instead of tutoring his youngest son and keeping him at his side while prosecuting war alongside him – if he even should have been in the war in the first place -, teaching him about the nuances of fighting and making sure every step of the way that he was emotionally ready for it (as if he wasn't then Marik would have been able to see and take him away from the savagery), instead of figuratively throwing him in at the deep end so that he could learn on his own and develop individually instead of having to rely upon his older brother (who took the burden willingly) for leadership and direction.

Marik had been extremely worried and annoyed at the fact that Caiellis had been trapped in a dream world whilst Alexander had been contending with the last vampire (how ironic...) alone, and that even before that the youngest of his two teenage sons seemed to depend upon his older sibling for help and to be the more confident of the two, what with Alexander being the more assertive and least shy of the sons of the king, and it had seemed to the king like Caiellis relied upon his older brother way too much for a prince. That, coupled with Alexander's personality of being a big brother and feeling like he could do everything himself, fully willing to sacrifice his well-being and health for his little brother, made it dangerous when Caiellis was put in danger and used to manipulate the seventeen year old into submitting.

Added to the fact that Marik was extremely angry with the new novelty of having his authority challenged by his suddenly defiant son – although before now he had never stopped to wonder why Caiellis was being so defiant instead of attributing it to hormones, a general lack of respect for Marik and the fact that the king had never been able to truly impress his authority onto the boy, and it was obvious that they had all been immensely stressed with the kidnapping (that Caiellis had nearly been killed within by the Master of Violence's gargantuan and inhuman arms) of the princes and the closeness to death that the third member of their small family had got to, it had been an easy decision to send him to Scientia Mos instead of trying to rebuild their relationship.

Marik had wanted to blame something because of the fact his eldest son had almost died, and he had lashed out at Caiellis because of how he had been manipulated into being used as a bargaining tool for both of the Lucerna children and had left his exhausted brother alone with a vampire, but in truth Marik knew that he was finding something to lay all of the guilt upon for what had happened to Alexander because he was so angry at the fact that his sons had been taken from him and his eldest had almost died with him being able to do nothing about it, a sense of uselessness that had never been so pronounced since the death of his beloved Emili running through him, and it had scared him. To that end, he had blamed Alexander's wounding upon Caiellis's lack of independence and, tired of the arguing and refusing to see from his youngest son's side or comfort the boy who had been through so much as well as Alexander despite not almost dying, sent him to the City of Books so that he could both get out of Marik's head and learn some skills about war and doing things for himself.

That had been a mistake, and despite the fact that it had expanded Caiellis's skills and confidence dramatically (although he was still a very shy and quiet boy that barely ever spoke unless his brother talked to him) as well as making him far more suited to leading an army on his own without needing those older and more confident than him to take the lead, it had reduced his youngest son's respect of Marik even further because it had shown him that he didn't need his father to be there watching him to excel.

It had been exactly as Guardian Tristram, who had once been a quite close friend to him despite their age differences and he couldn't be grateful enough to because of what he had down for the Lucerna sons during the civil war, raising them to be young adults far better than Marik ever would have done on his own (although with Emili at his side the two youngsters would have had the perfect childhoods), but who now probably hated him with good reason for what he had done to poor Caiellis, had predicted – it had seemed that instead of the resentment between father and son dying down (although Marik had been able to focus on Alexander and because he was used to his youngest not being there he had removed the hostility between them from his mind, even congratulating Caiellis on the wonderful speech that he had given out), it had festered within Caiellis.

However, it was more than likely that the boy had simply grown more confident in his own abilities, confidence that was well deserved, and had been ready to push aside their petty squabbling in the name of the kingdom as well, but the dormant defiance within him had been lit when Marik had chastised him over the delay that he had caused because of his gentle and more merciful nature and had raged into a powerful fire that the king had had to work hard in extinguishing, his own anger roused as well as he blamed their argument on the fact that Caiellis hadn't changed instead of looking deeper into it and as such disliking the boy for it.

Overall, it highlighted Marik's inexperience at being a father just as much as it emphasised Caiellis's lack of knowledge of leading armies in brutal warfare – not in strategy, as the kid was excellent at that – and instead of being allowed to berate and reprimand him for his mistakes and then congratulate him on his victory and exceptional skill in wielding an army for his age it had devolved into a bitter argument between them as the resentment flared into life once again.

Their relationship had deteriorated ever since then, what with the horror that he was now trying to break free from and hopefully destroy turning his anger into violence that he was still terrified of ever subjecting his smallest son to again and had made him horrified at himself and how he had lost control, and even with Alexander their to break up their arguments – putting himself in emotional harm's way to do something that wasn't expected of him was very heroic of Marik's eldest, especially since he had only just recovered from his own severe brush with death that had started these heated disputes in the first place – every attempt that they had made to make it up to each other (albeit Marik's hadn't been done very well since he had been trying to prevent the violent headaches that had resounded through his skull turning him to attacking his son again and more focussed on the war than the well-being of a petulant teenager) had ended in failure.

That was why Marik had to destroy this horror that had trapped him within its noxious embrace, had to return to consciousness and destroy the Archdemon that the foolish Welkalites had allowed to enter their city, heedless of the dire consequences, alongside his second son. He would make sure that Caiellis survived so that they could make it up to each other now that Marik would be able to destroy what had turned him abusive and brutal, and ensure that his youngest son would feel safe, protected, and loved around Marik, because alongside Alexander Caiellis was the person that the king loved the most in the world despite their differences and their fighting due to the fact that he was his bright and intelligent son.

Marik kept running through the endless corridors – as a young ten year old boy he had once asked Akroma (when he could pluck up the courage to talk to the terrifying Angel of Wrath within his mind) how big his Mind Realm was only for her to reply unusually cryptically and tell him not to ask again – ignoring the large doors that creaked open as he neared them that lead into large and cavernous rooms like other majestic cathedral halls as he knew that they would most likely be a trap set by the horror that had a scarily potent grip upon his mind, what with how everything around the king was juddering and shaking like the whole Mind Realm was in hazardous flight.

His suspicions were confirmed when he passed the doors and the light that had been spilling out of the warm and inviting rooms turned dark as contrails of inky blackness cascaded out of the doors to join the wriggling and pulsating mass that followed the king through his mind, the vile being laughing all the while. The reason why Marik had been able to identify the trap was because of the fact that the light shining out of the multifarious rooms in his mental basilica of warfare had always been cold, harsh and dutiful, not welcoming and happy, and as such Marik had instantly known that such things had no natural place within the residence of Akroma.

"You can't run forever, Mariky-boy!" the horror caterwauled, the mass of shadows crashing through the corridors behind the king as he sprinted, noting that he was not tired at all because the run wasn't a real one, meaning that he still possessed some measure of control within his own mind, the horrifying creature of the night rushing through the rooms like a tide of solid shadows and ooze that throbbed to the sound of a malignant heartbeat that sent pains shuddering through Marik's head, although that would not stop him now. Too much was at stake, and should he fail the entire Lucaelian force containing almost every person that he cared about personally would be wiped out by the overwhelming force of an Archdemon that could only be challenged by an exalted First Sisterhood angel; the king was not prepared to allow that to happen, not while he still drew breath and the need to oppose the darkness and protect the kingdom still burned within his breast.

The globules of murk and gloom spread across the ceiling, the floor and the two walls of the corridors as the king ran, knowing that it was gaining on him and unsure whether the horror in his mind was simply enjoying playing games with him and could capture him and force him back into his memories of Caiellis at any point or if he was seriously outrunning it and it didn't have a grasp on all of the monarch's mind. However, the horror was correct, for once, and Marik knew that simply fleeing from it would not solve anything – yes, he may be able to escape from his mind, but leaving the being there was a recipe for disaster and there was no guarantee that it wouldn't just pull him back if he even managed to get out of the prison of his own thoughts.

No, he needed to destroy it, to cast out its foul essence from his mind so that it could not influence the decisions of a Lucerna monarch any more – and it was a testament to how far the beast of Aksua had dug its tendrils in and how insidious it was to resist the purifying aura of both the crown and the Angel of Wrath who was usually adept at noticing encroaching corruption and would have murdered it herself – but for now he needed a bit more distance, the man thinking of his family and his duty all the while as it empowered his motions within his mind.

"I am the master of your mind now! I can read every thought that comes into your head! Why do you think that you can escape me when I know your every movement before you even think of it yourself?!" the horror shrieked at him, though there was a frustrated tinge to its voice that Marik wasn't sure whether he had imagined or not, and a sudden thought popped into the man's head as he instantly smothered it with another, thinking of how he was going to repair the relationship between him and his thirteen year old son who was going through the turbulent time known as puberty and adolescence, refusing to hope that the horror had not detected it because simply entertaining the notion of that hope within his mind would alert the vile being to his plan.

The king cried out in shock as a door of dark wood etched with symbols that radiated neither light nor darkness and simply unstoppable magic crashed shut in front of him, and the king threw his substantial weight into it in the way that had begun this escapade from the original entrance of his austere Mind Realm in the first place, though despite him mustering thoughts of breaking down the door and striding straight through it in his head the door didn't budge – almost as expected, but if Marik expected to fail in this realm of metaphysics then he would never succeed, as it was the will to win and achieve triumph that was more potent then the actions of doing so.

The king spun around, holding his fists at a ready position as the tide of living gloom crashed into him, leaving him untouched as it swarmed around his form at covered the door behind him in a revolting mass of squirming black fleshy globules that swayed in a mockery of life as he was pinned against the door, his back pressed into the hard wood as he readied his hands to attack, although ideally as the being hadn't touched that he didn't want to stain himself with it yet. A figure was rising up out of the wriggling blackness trapping him in an abyssal prison against the door, the shadows taking the vague shape of a humanoid creature without legs that moved through the solid and throbbing darkness around him.

What was more disturbing than the human appearance that the horror had sued before was the sheer size of the creature that had nestled in his mind ever since the last vampire had been killed and the tainted race of unholy blood drinkers had been consigned to rightful extinction, an endless expanse of blackness stretching back along the corridors as far as Marik could see that wriggled and palpitated just like the rest of it did, a tide of filth that he knew had grown from that tiny splodge of the original horror that infiltrated his mind. Then another thought entered his head, and he supposed that despite the minuscule size of the horror that had originally penetrated to his mind its power over him was still large and it could make itself seem infinite and massive within his head whilst in reality it was a small drop of pure shadow with a sentience of its own. He couldn't remember the horror talking when Aksua had controlled it, and it had simply seemed like a mindless but malicious beast of the shadow, and although he had never spoken to Caiellis about the battle neither one of his sons had said that the horror used words.

It was possible that without the controlling influence of Aksua the being was free to express its own thoughts through speech, or that it was being controlled and someone was speaking through it, but currently Marik had more pressing concerns as the horror's humanoid form drifted through the rest of the darkness and rushed towards him, the three slitted eyes opening up on its head as a single mouth of bleached teeth stark against the shadow ripped itself open vertically down its face and underneath its first eye, one other on each side of the gaping maw as it reached out an arm of gloom and murk that vibrated it time with the rest of the living and corrupt shadow, quivering fingers of dark essence splitting off from the main tendril and branching out into even more like a repugnant perversion of a tree's life-giving roots.

He flattened the thoughts of his plan under more about his family, thinking of how proud he was of both of his young sons at how mature and grown up they were at their youthful ages as the nether being leaned closer to him, its head and neck regions extending so that it could look down at the king as it reached closer, the man recoiling automatically in disgust before realising that he had nowhere else to retreat to and that his back was firmly pressed up against the hard door as the being leaned closer still, shadows whipping around Marik like a maelstrom of darkness that left the king untouched as the creature of nightmares grinned at him.

The king could feel the virulent breath of the horror on his face as it spoke, the smell warm and foetid like rotting but freshly killed corpses undergoing a heightened and faster state of decay, and more disturbingly a scent that Marik hadn't smelt before but incited an emotion within him that he rarely felt – fear, "Nowhere left to run now, Mariky-boy. What were you hoping to accomplish anyway with that little stunt of yours? I thought that you enjoyed your memories of the "happiest time of your life?" I though that you would give up everything that you had now to go back there? Surely then I was doing you a favour?"

The horror's voice became slightly sullen and petulant, and Marik repressed the shiver of uncharacteristic fear for himself that he felt that ran down his spine, knowing that it was just the aura of the denizen of the abyss and the hold that it had on his mind stimulating that emotion and that he was no longer ever scared for himself, but frightened for his children and the kingdom. He snarled in hatred when the being must have pulled up some of his recent memories of things that had only happened a few days ago as it imitated Caiellis's young and at the time sorrowful voice when he had been crying for his brother as Alexander went through the operation that had saved his life, and continued, its voice somewhere in between the genuine sadness that it imitated and a mocking resonance, "I'm sorry if you felt that I wasn't helping; all I have ever wanted to do was to help you, Mariky-boy."
It then grinned, dispelling the image and its voice returning to normal, although hatred was still surging through Marik which would have been obvious to the one that had control of his mind, and then the king sensed it digging its claws into his mind again and wrenching loose another of its memories. As it spoke again, it wore Caiellis voice for the second time, but on this occasion it was the defiant and angry tones his youngest son had used against him when they had been in one of their many awful arguments that the king dearly regretted now, "Was I simply not good enough for you? Were the memories that I chose not to your esteemed standard, Lord Marik? Or are you simply too wrapped in hatred knowing that I am controlling you now and making you do the right thing?"

"What are you doing?!" Marik demanded loudly despite himself, having originally planned to keep silent until he was ready and the horror was close enough to strike, but the sheer anger at having someone else dominating him and using him to their own ends – ends which obviously involved hurting Caiellis judging by the horror's track record – and the being laughed as it leaned in, taunting and its voice turning back to its original sibilant whispers, "Wouldn't you like to know, Mariky-boy? Don't worry. You will find out soon enough that I have done you a great favour. But for now, why don't you be a good little king and submit while I take you through a tour of your happiest memories?"
Marik had had enough, and when the horror bent forwards, about to brush his cheek with a shadowy tentacle, he put his plan into action. Surging forwards, Marik brought up every single memory of his precious family that he had to the fore of the mind from where he had been mustering them behind his veneer of hatred that surge to the fore as well in tandem with the recollections of the past.

He thought of his first meeting with each of the three most valued people in his life, those that were part of his family. He thought of happy memories, of the golden sunshine of his eldest's birth and the cute happiness of his youngest's tumultuous entrance to the world. He thought of sadness and pain, of arguments with Emili where they almost considered never seeing each other again, of Alexander cutting his hand on a blade that Marik had carelessly left out and having his wife slap him for the first (and only) time because of it, and of Emili's near death at Caiellis's birth. There were unfortunately far more memories in this latter category, including the abduction of his sons, the awful wounds Alexander had suffered at the hands of Aksua, and his explosive arguments with his youngest son as well as Caiellis almost being blown up by the Welkalite skyship in the battle of Fort Egetau, but Marik brought every single one of them up as he sprang forwards – every single memory but one, one that he refused to go back to.

Light burst into being around the king in response to this renewed outpouring of powerful emotional thoughts, illuminating the horror in a harsh golden glow and burning apart the shadows that had been moving to grasp at Marik's ankles, blinding light ensorcelling Marik's tight fists as it burst up from within him and formed a shining crown around his forehead that dispelled the shadows around him. The king leapt forward, pulling the memories of his family to the fore as he charged the short distance to the horror, his thoughts of the ones that he loved more than anything else swirling around his hands and making his fists into weapons of divine magic. Focus on your family, Marik! Focus! Think not of the horror, but of the family that you have to protect and the happy memories of the past, the possibility of making more happiness in the future if you overcome this being!

Marik brought up three images in his mind, the first of Emili Noctis the day that she had proposed to him, a happy smile on her face and her green eyes twinkling with her love for Marik, interchanged with that when she interacted with their beloved children and her emerald irises shone with her motherly affection for the two youngest Lucernas. The second was that of Alexander Ensis Lucerna the last time Marik had seen him, his face full of agitation and concern for his little brother the moment before he had sprinted off into the city to try and make his way to where the smallest prince had travelled to, and that too was interposed with the visualisation of the four year old blonde when he had first met his younger brother and his bright and warm blue eyes had been glowing with fondness and excitement.

Finally, the last vision of the members of his family was Caiellis, and like the others it was a combination of two other images from different memories of the boy. The one before the civil war was the last flashback that the one with a malevolent grip on his mind had forced him into, where his two year old son had snuggled up against his father and shown him love that Marik would never forget and cherish forever, whereas the second was similar to Alexander's in it being the most recent occasion the thirteen year old boy had been viewed by his father.

Caiellis was beaten and bruised, his light armour (that Marik really thought that he needed to wear more of considering his physicality and fragility, but supposed that his son might not obtain the manoeuvrability conferred by his iridescent stained glass wings should he become too heavy) torn and ripped at numerous locations, exposing scratched and bloodied flesh underneath. His face was ashen pale with fear and exhaustion, and slick with the blood that endlessly poured down from the insanity-inducing heavens of the Tempest of Craving. The Sword of Glass that Marik had gifted to his son and had served the boy well was gripped tightly in his small and slender hand, and although his eyes were full of relief at having his father there that spoke volumes about the fact that their arguments were just petty squabbles that didn't mean anything now that they were in battle, the wide green orbs that were so much like Emili's had been full of fright at the Archdemon, highlighting his age and the power of one of the strongest beings spawned forth from the darkness.

The trifecta of family members infused Marik with strength and magical power that surged through the mental representation of himself within his mind, light swirling around his muscular limbs and burning back the darkness as it was purified by the divine illumination and mewled in pain as he charged at the one who had caused him to hurt his youngest son, a crime that could never be forgiven and would end with this vile creature dead and expunged from his Mind Realm.

The horror was completely unperturbed that Marik had been able to conjure up a form of mana within his head and that it represented the king breaking free of the control the being had upon him that had prevented him from accessing his magic, and it simply looked on unconcerned as the grand monarch of Lucael charged at the humanoid form of him. Its eyes were unimpressed and impassive despite the fact that other parts of its being were hissing and sizzling away as the cleansing light purged away their taint from the ornate war cathedral of the Angel of Wrath, but Marik paid no heed to that as he leapt into the air, magic coalescing around his closed fists as he sprung at the face of the creature, concentrating his thoughts of his family into an undiluted and powerful, weapon like form that he would use to banish the foul creature that had taken refuge in his most private of residences.

Alexander, Caiellis, the king thought, his mind voice a combination of an inspiring and stirring war shout of pure hatred of the foe similar to the one that he had bellowed as the Lucaelian legions had gathered outside of the walls of the City of Pleasure, and a quiet but no less firm and determined promise to himself and his children, I am coming!

He thought more of his most recent memories of his two cherished sons that he had barely been given the time to know and love, the ones showing that they needed his help as a king but most prominently as a father and that as their dad he was required to help them through this time of turmoil that he should have prevented them from getting into in the first place by being sons someone that the boys (well Caiellis at any rate, because Marik was reasonably confident Alexander was warming to him and trusted in him) could trust and talk to, instead of someone that his youngest found intimidating because of his actions and judging because of his words. Finally, he thought of the precious wife that had been snatched away from him because of his own twin brother's greed and envy, and how disappointed she would be in him from her place in paradise watching over them if he failed their sons now. Think of my family!

"Oh, Mariky-boy, why didn't you just say that was what you wanted to do?" the horror giggled at him maliciously, and the king involuntarily cried out in agony as the reverberating torment within his mind skull rose to unbearable levels even with the golden magic of his protective defiance cascading out of him, and the humanoid figure within the tide of vibrating darkness simply swayed to the side out of the headlong rush of the king as he pitched forwards, pulses of pure pain crashing through his head and distorting the images of Caiellis, Alexander and Emili that he had conjured within his mind, turning their gazes hatred filled and condemning as they glared down at him, their faces contorting and warping into leers of disgust and sadism that his family had never worn before in their lives.

The void being laughed again, the sound like icy daggers being rammed over and over again into Marik's mind as he swung around, wondering if this is what Caiellis had felt like when the king had forced him to spar against the older brother that was clearly better than him as he slammed his shining fist into the space where the horror should have appeared according to his predictions of its movements – even with the pain he was in the strategist within the man had anticipated that the mental intruder would move its most important section – the human-esque figure that had its eyes and mouth – to the section of its roiling shadow body that it rose up out of now, far enough away from the king's first attempted blow to avoid damage but close enough so that it could still taunt and jeer at him.

The king of Lucael was not disappointed as the being reared up its head out of the place that he had postulated as being the location of its resurgence, and with a cry on his lips that was half fervent and half pained he spun on the spot, the darkness around him pushed out of the way of his feet by the light as it tried to grab hold of his legs, and launched himself at the horror again. He put all of his defiance of the darkness and need to protect his sons into the attack, and the light became blinding in its intensity as he arced his shining fist at the cowardly creature of shadows.

It laughed again in spiteful amusement as it lashed out a tendril of dark matter, blocking Marik's fist as the light instantly died out, the memories of his family drowned out by the pain and sudden feeling of hopelessness that overwhelmed the king as the horror extended its neck in a sickening motion of expansion towards him and whispered in his ear with its sinister words, "Why didn't you just say that you wanted to think about your family? I would be only too happy to please you there."

Marik tried to roar his defiance at the creature who had made him choke his own son and hurt his baby boy, to swing at the being now that it was so close and smash it out of his head so that he could embrace his duty as a father and king and lead the Lucaelian warriors that depended upon him for strength to victory, but every part of him was becoming numb as he felt his mind being dragged out of him again. He toppled to his knees, and then fell forwards as his mind screamed at his unresponsive limbs for them to move, to make the most of the advantage he had created for himself since he might not get another chance to be in the same position again, but as the darkness overwhelmed him and smothered the light Marik was pulled back into his memories once again.

.*.*.*.

"Why can't you just see the merits of what I am suggesting?!" Emili demanded, her voice full of anger that Marik knew wasn't directed at him and an undertone of fear, fear and apprehensiveness that they all felt about the recent news that could have been considered treasonous. Marik would have had the person who had delivered the message severely punished – and other, harsher Lucerna kings may have had them killed – if the source that they had come from hadn't been so reliable in the past. Apparently, his twin brother, Johnias Otium Lucerna, along with Vectura, City of Transportation, Crescia, City of Commerce, and Epulaeous, City of Nourishment, had declared their independence from the rest of the Kingdom of Light and their succession from the reign of the Lucerna line.

Such news was absurd, only twice ever before in the annals of their race had a civil war occurred, one that barely had any history upon it at all as the rebelling armies and their corrupt general had been crushed underfoot by the might of Queen Tidisa and the second was the revolution against evil King Xarius, but Marik hadn't as of yet had any communication from any of the aforementioned metropolises nor his brother as to what this was all about. At any rate, the news was shocking to say the least, and utterly terrifying if it was true, but Marik still couldn't believe that Johnias would betray him and turn three cities against him, for all that his brother had been the favourite to inherit the throne seven years ago from their late father.

Nonetheless, the two Light-bearers from Civitas Sol reported that some of their armies that had been patrolling the border in case of further Welkalite incursions (which thankfully had stopped the past two years apart from the very occasional bandit attack that the leaders of Welkas assured the Yentarian Republic and the Kingdom of Light had nothing to do with them) had been attacked and wiped out very recently and almost inexplicably, and scouts from the Capital City had noted that the abyss had seemed more active than usual, shapes roiling in the darkness with a greater frequency than ever before in Marik's mostly peaceful reign.

Marik wanted to take control of the situation instantly, as it was not unheard of for specific generals of figures of importance to lose themselves to the temptations of the void and trade their holy Summonings away for demons or other abyssal residents in an Infernal Bargain, and if there truly was a rebellion than it needed to be put down immediately before the stability of the nation could be affected too much. However, for all that the king thought that it was unlikely and incredibly dreadful if the three aforementioned cities that had been under Johnias's direct command in a way that gave the man a method of using the leadership skills that Marik's brother possessed in abundance, he thought it was ludicrous to suggest that his loyal and loving brother would turn on him like the news had indicated.

Nonetheless, because of the amount of trusted sources that Marik as the king had informing him of the developments such an implication could not be taken lightly, and he had given the word to mobilise Capitalia Lux for war and sent the message to everyone of of the other sanctuaries against the darkness, although because the monorail systems that would revolutionise transport were still in development it would take a few days before the responses of each of the seven other cities could be heard and their loyalty ascertained – apart from the reply from Scientia Mos, as the City of Books with its Yentarian links had finished their monorail connection to the Lucaelian capital and their loyalty had been confirmed almost instantly.

Meanwhile, he wanted the capital to be a bastion of hope and solidity against any tension or talk of insurrection, an invincible monument of Lucaelian ideals and a bulwark against the ever encroaching shadow.

The reason why he was arguing with his wife now was over the plan that she had suggested for herself and their two young children of age eight and four, after hearing the news (but not from Marik who had been busy fuming with outrage at first at the suggestion Johnias would ever turn his back on his twin brother and then becoming clinical and acting like a king) for herself. Emili wanted to take Alexander and Caiellis to Scientia Mos, the city that she had been brought up in and the one that her parents that they had all visited less than a year ago lived in, using the newly constructed first monorail line to travel quickly out of Capitalia Lux.

"And why can't you see that the palace is far safer than Scientia Mos?" Marik questioned back, his voice also coloured with anger that was not targeted at his beloved wife, but fury at the possibility that the darkness would ruin his perfect family and bring death upon the kingdom, and vexation at himself because of the fact that if what had been reported had truly occurred then he should have been far harsher on the kingdom and spent less time with his children, not trusting Johnias to take care of the three aforementioned dwellings apart from a few routine inspections that Marik had subjected them to and meetings with the Light-bearers within Capitalia Lux, the most recent of which had been Teylaisian Illustri, the Guardian of Vectura, and if the dependable, faithful and honourable warrior had turned his back on the light of the kingdom then he hadn't shown it and Marik hadn't been able to pick it out – which he should have been able to considering that he was a Lucerna king.

However, now that Marik thought about it, he had often considered removing Teylaisian from the post of Guardian because there was one thing that might have been able to convince him to stray from the path the holy angels had set for them, but Marik didn't want to entertain the thought of betrayal now and instantly assume that he was guilty right from the start. He would retain a healthy scepticism of the news until he had established just what was going on and crushed any dissent in his kingdom without any outsiders being involved – as if the Yentarians saw that there was a civil war going on Marik wasn't sure how they would react, and Lucael would certainly be viewed as weak by the New Empire of Passion should they ever hear the news – restoring order as soon as possible, because even if there was only limited rebellion the greater darkness would take every opportunity that it could to exploit the chaos and resentment.

The husband and wife were stood in the medium sized kitchen/dining hall (since they had moved out of the former as they were too close to their sleeping young ones) connected to their sons' nursery, although Alexander slept there less and less because of his age of eight (angels, he was growing up so fast... well, they both were, as Caiellis was now almost as old as Alexander had been when the younger of the two had been born), and while their voices conveyed their emotions they didn't raise them much past hisses because of the fact that both of their youngsters were asleep in the room next door.

They didn't often argue, Marik and Emili, but when they did it was very heated as each was extremely stubborn and refused to back down until one of them thought that the whole argument was pointless and gave in – or more rarely a compromise was made. Right now, the king thought that his wife's idea of taking herself and their two sons to the City of Books was completely absurd because the capital city was the safest metropolis with the largest army and the Lucerna citadel was the most protected place in the entire kingdom, whereas Scientia Mos was not.

Furthermore, Marik wanted his children and love where he could protect them, which would not be in the City of Books, to make sure that they were alright as he returned order to the nation and cowed the apparently rebellious cities under the hammer of the Lucaelian legions, and if they were in Scientia Mos then he would have no way of ascertaining their safety. While he would have to leave Capitalia Lux with a sizeable force (from every city that would lend its aid – as if they didn't then that would be disobeying orders and would show that their loyalty was not to be trusted) to quell any potential uprising, he would be able to do so knowing that his infinitely precious family would be safe within the palace, guarded by some of the kingdom's finest soldiers, not in Scientia Mos where attack would be much more likely – as assaulting the imposing and massive capital city was tantamount to a death sentence for any besieging force.

"Because Johnias – or whoever is the leader of this damned rebellion – knows that we are in Capitalia Lux! If we secretly move to Scientia Mos any of the traitors won't realise and will continue to focus their efforts on the palace!" Emili hissed at him, filling the tense quiet that had descended with her words, about to speak again in that way that she did – as arguing with the queen was like debating with a hurricane of shouted words, ideas and arguments, and one had to be an immovable object against the force of her suggestions and accusations otherwise they would be overwhelmed by her barrage of points. In contrast, Marik often left gaps for his opponents in the dispute to respond so that he could calmly dissect and destroy their point of view. He had been forced to develop that method so that he didn't become swamped over Emili's veritable bombardment of arguments and words, and as his beautiful partner's mouth opened again he spoke over it, "And why is Scientia Mos so much safer than the citadel? This palace has barely ever been breached by enemies before, not counting Xarius's reign, and I want you three here so that I know you are safe and sound instead of sending you away to another city that I can't watch over you in!"

They were just going over the same ground again, all of the points that either of them were raising now had already been launched into the heated air between them, but neither was willing to give up and Marik couldn't understand why his usually intelligent wife had got this silly notion into her head that the Lucerna palace, the bulwark against the darkness that had stood for thousands of years and held many generations of the Lucerna line, was suddenly unsafe and somewhere unsuitable for housing the king's young family. The thirty one year old woman shook her head at him, her curled fringe flicking to the side and concealing one of her fiery emerald eyes, though Marik consciously had to stop himself from reaching forwards and gently brushing it out as he knew that it wouldn't be appreciated by his wife. The argument was clearly hurting her, Marik suddenly realised, just as much as it was hurting him underneath the barriers of determination he had placed over his now cold blue eyes, and Emili had never been forced to conceal her emotions before so they bled out of her expressive green orbs (or orb, since one was covered up), showing her anger at Marik and the thought of a war ripping her husband away from her and tearing a father away from their children as he campaigned across the kingdom.

"The safety of the palace didn't stop your grandfather being assassinated by the shadow agents of the Grafnica Dominion," Emili replied, uncharacteristically quiet in one of their arguments, and Marik had to check and stop himself before he exploded at his wife. She knew that saying the words would strike a cord with her husband because of the fact that the murder of Garius I at the time when the late father of the current monarch had only been sixteen had been one of the factors attributing the austere coldness to Garius II, although the death of his beloved wife Ismerelda due to giving birth to the only Lucerna twins had been the final point in the destruction of his love and warmth. Marik would have shouted extremely loudly and angrily at his wife had she been anyone else and if they hadn't been relatively close to their sleeping children – only two rooms away – so instead he took a deep, shuddering breath as he gathered his thoughts, preparing to make the most of this lull in the relentless assault of points to come up with a good counter argument.

The fact that Alexander was also sleeping in the nursery was very unusual, but it was a perfect example of how emotionally attuned he was to the rest of his family and how he could sense when things were wrong or now. He had decided a few hours ago when it had been Caiellis's bedtime – as it was now midnight and both of the boys would be soundly asleep – that he wanted to sleep in the same room as the youngest Lucerna, somehow knowing despite not being told anything about the potential for a civil war (as Marik and Emili had agreed that their sons would be kept relatively ignorant as to preserve their innocence and make sure that they were not worried too much) and wanting to protect his younger brother from whatever might happen. There had been no objections from Caiellis, who was probably very happy for the company considering that his big brother was maturing now as a person and would rather spend time with the friends that were his age instead of the sibling that was four years younger (though he in no way ignored Caiellis), and their parents had left quietly with them sleeping in each of their respective beds that had been pushed closer together at Caiellis's request.

Marik wished that he had possessed that kind of brotherly bond with Johnias when the two had been younger and only really had each other to talk to (as friends were considered a distraction to the learning Lucernas and a reward to be given out when they performed well (meaning that Marik was given barely any time to spend with people of his own age besides his brother)), as it was supposed to be twins that were close, had some sort of mental link with each other and were accustomed to each others' wants and needs, not brothers who were four years apart. Nevertheless, even without the closeness that Alexander and Caiellis shared, Marik had still been friends with his brother and knew that he could trust Johnias with anything and his identical twin could do the same with him, and that was why he found it ridiculous to imply that the eldest living Lucerna would betray his twin on the throne.

"And how many important officials have been murdered by the foul operatives of the darkness whilst in the Scia Atria of the City of Books?" Marik asked his wife, though the question was rhetorical and the bristling Emili knew it, although his wife's eyes showed that she was slightly sorry for what she had said earlier and didn't enjoy emotionally hurting her husband at all, and continued before she could reply, "Far more than have been killed within the palace, and that is a fact. Every time agents of the shadow have penetrated the Lucerna citadel it has become even stronger and safer for the royal family within it. Besides, what makes you think that Johnias – if he is even leading this supposed revolution - will be sending assassins to murder you and our sons anyway? If he wanted the throne, then he would challenge me to combat over it or focus his efforts on me, not on you three. Johnias wouldn't do that, he doesn't approve of the killing of innocents or children, and he would not want to murder his beloved nephews and sister in law."

Emili's dubious expression make it quite evident that she was unconvinced, and Marik knew that was because Johnias wasn't her biological brother, she hadn't shared the same experiences as him like Marik had and she was only thinking about their children to make sure that they were safe – Marik agreed with that, but it wouldn't be like Johnias at all to target Alexander and Caiellis whom he clearly loved very dearly since he had no children of his own, and even if he or whoever had orchestrated the reported uprising had been corrupted by the darkness and wanted the Lucerna children dead so that there was no chance of Johnias not being put on the throne, the boys and Emili would be in the most protected location within the entire kingdom instead of a random city.

"I'm not so sure, Marik, and I mean no disrespect to your brother by saying that, but if he does want to become king he has to kill Alexander and Caiellis (her voice almost broke when she said the words and Marik had to fight the increasing urge to wrap an arm around his wife's slender shoulders and comfort her), as otherwise your Death Vision will choose one of them as the successor to the throne," Emili replied, her voice quieter again as if she was horrified by even mentioning the awful ideas, and Marik frowned at her for the umpteenth time on this night of disputing, as she forced herself to suck it up if she wanted any chance of winning this argument and the timbre of her voice was more steely and adamant as she spoke again, "And moving our children with me to Scientia Mos will make sure that whatever assassins might have been sent to the palace won't know where we are, and if any are sent during anything that will occur when you leave to put down this rebellion they will be entering a trap as we will no longer be at the palace."
"And risk you three travelling to another city and being ambushed on the monorail? No chance," Marik snorted, almost derisive of his wife's points by now because of the fact that she was trying to argue against keeping their children in the safest place in Lucael, something that Marik was never going to give up on arguing for and if it came down to it as the king he could order Emili to stand down and give up with this altercation if he wanted his wife to hate him and be extremely angry with him when he would leave to restore order to the nation. The queen's eyes flashed angrily at him as she removed the hair from her left eye with a flick of her head, and Marik returned the gaze stonily as he sensed that his wife was about to launch another barrage of arguments at him, confirmed by her (quietened but no less emotional, although it was by far the loudest either of the two had been so far) yell of "Why won't you just listen to me, Marik?! The enemies know that your only weakness is your family, and if they want you dead then they will target that, and they know that they are in the palace! The citadel has been breached by assassins before, and it might happen again, and I am not willing to take that chance! Moving the chil-"

"And I am not willing to take the chance of something happening to you and our boys while you are in Scientia Mos or travelling there and I won't be able to help you!" Marik shouted back, to his dismay quite loudly as he exploded at his poor wife, who instead of being cowed by the display of anger was just about to respond to it in kind. He was more angry with the fact that his perfect family that was so young and hadn't nearly had enough time to bloom and develop could be threatened by these developments in the outer kingdom, and was releasing that fury in his heated words to his wife, but right now Marik didn't care and knew that Emili could take it – she was one of the strongest people he knew and wouldn't be hurt by a few shouted words, not least because she was the one who had started this whole argument in the first place that had been going on for several hours in hushed tones before this, although the king was confident that the fact they were two rooms away from their sons meant that the boys wouldn't wake up.

Emili opened her mouth, taking a deep breath which only served to emphasise how loud this next point of hers was going to be shouted into Marik's ears, and then blinked in surprise for a second, the anger instantly fading from her bright green orbs and her mouth closing for a moment after it had been gaping open. She looked past Marik, who had his back to the door and whose eyes narrowed at the sudden change in demeanour undergone by his wife, and her eyes became softer and sympathetic in a way that could only mean one thing as she opened her mouth, her words far more comforting and calm then they had been only seconds ago, but also slightly stern, "Caiellis, how long have you been there? Why aren't you in bed, mister?"

Marik spun around instantly as he heard a small and extremely sad sniffle, and his eyes stopped on the sight of his youngest son stood beside the doorway of the room, the door (that had been closed to act as another sound barrier between them and their slumbering young ones) opened ever so slightly to allow him to peek through and watch his parents shouting at each other, and upon seeing the four year old's welling green eyes as they glistened in the light catching them Marik instantly felt sorry for shouting, although he was still fuming at the suggestion that his wife and children leave for Scientia Mos and the interruption of his youngest son hadn't changed that.

"I'm sorry … mummy … I had a nightmare..." the boy snuffled ashamedly, and Emili shared a pitying glance with Marik before walking over to the other side of the room (concealing a frown at the way that her husband just stood still and made no moves to help her in comforting their fragile second son, as she didn't want Caiellis to think that he was angry with her). It was obvious that Caiellis had woken up in the middle of the night and Alexander had still been asleep, so instead of waking up his big brother and asking him for comfort the four year old had walked out of the room to find his parents, as after going into the kitchen that he still hovered in, half of his body behind the door, he would have been able to hear them talking – well, shouting at each other. Caiellis would have probably been nervous to go in when his mummy and daddy were yelling at one another, so would have lingered in the doorway and waited until they were finished before entering.

Caiellis's green expressive green eyes were moist with tears and the Black Sun mark on his cheek glowed a melancholy purple where the tears had obviously trickled down his face, making Marik wonder how much of the argument that had been progressing for some time now the boy had heard and understood, dearly hoping that he hadn't been there when Emili had talked about the rebellious armies sending people to kill Caiellis and his older brother, because that was the last thing that a young boy who had obviously just suffered through a horrible bad dream needed to excite his vivid imagination even more.

Before Emili reached the boy who was still reluctant to enter, still probably under the illusion that his parents were angry at him for getting up in the middle of the night when he should have been in bed – as parental censure was something that Caiellis feared greatly since he had never experienced it before and tried to be as much as a good boy as he could for his mum and dad – Marik wanted to make sure that there would be no more disputes on this matter because he had other things to focus on instead of arguing with his wife, so pressed, "So are you three staying in the palace then?"
"Yes, Marik, angels above! We'll stay in the palace!" Emili replied exasperatedly, glowering at him for a second before softening her gaze as she turned back to little Caiellis, her concern for her son overriding any incentive to debate with her husband and her intentions to comfort the scared little boy far more important in her mind at the moment, and Marik concealed a smile at having obtained victory for once in their very, very rare shouting matches, because he knew that said triumph hadn't been fairly won and he certainly didn't want his son to take any cues from that sort of ungracious behaviour – Caiellis was set to grow up into a fine young gentleman, and Marik didn't want to change that.

He followed his wife with his eyes as the woman gently coaxed the snuffling Caiellis into the room, the four year old far more slender than someone his age should have been (although his scary thinness had dissipated and he had put on some healthy mass, though he was still underweight) and smaller than was expected for his age – though at least he wasn't extremely tiny and seemed naturally small like Emili had been at that age instead of malnourished and not growing properly.

Marik knew that he had to stop thinking of Caiellis as one would think of a delicate and precious sculpture of glass simply because of his premature birth four years ago that meant that he hadn't been able to touch his son for the first month or so of his young life, as his youngest son wouldn't shatter at the merest touch and he had already established that playing and wrestling gently with the boy was entirely possible, and he had improved in that respect a significant amount. No, he concluded, he didn't regard Caiellis as something that would break even with the lightest force applied to it, hadn't done so for a few years now, it was just his parental instinct that was multiplied because of his small size and the fact that if Caiellis wasn't a Lucerna then he probably would be bullied by his classmates in the future. He was concerned that if his slenderness and small height didn't improve over the next few years then he would be unsuited for combat, which was something that was unheard of for a descendant of Matalis Ortus Lucerna, but right now the king had more pressing issues and if his youngest didn't shoot up and widen eventually like most children did at the end of their teenage years (he himself had been a very skinny youth until he started to develop some of the muscle that now toned him).

"Why were you and daddy shouting at each other?" Caiellis asked his mother in a small voice as the woman took him into her arms, lifting him off of the ground in a way that was made significantly easier by his almost weightlessness and gently brushing the tears out of his eyes and smiling comfortingly at the young boy. Caiellis was trembling softly in her arms, speaking volumes of the awfulness of the nightmare that his young and imaginative mind had conjured for himself, and Emili focussed herself on the plight of her youngest son instead of her husband who she was quite annoyed at. The argument was a legitimate one, and Emili still stood by her suggestion of taking the boys to Scientia Mos, but her and her husband were both so stubborn that neither would relent in an argument. For now, because of the fact she knew that Marik was extremely stressed and already beginning his process of self-loathing that the boy with very low self esteem he had once been had often plunged into because of the talk of civil war, Emili was willing to accede to his wishes and stay within the palace with her children.

She thought about the words for a while, hoping that Caiellis hadn't heard too much of the conversation that was not at all suitable for his young ears, and ensured that her face was set in an open and motherly smile to make her youngest feel welcome, and answered in a soft voice, "Well, Caiellis, sometimes people who love each other very much disagree on something and if both of them feel very strongly about their own points of view, then they might end up shouting at each other. But it does not mean that mummy and daddy don't love each other, we are just arguing about something. You shouldn't worry, little one."

Emili looked up at the brooding Marik for support in the statement, her green eyes twinkling with her love for her children that far surpassed anything she had ever felt before (even her immeasurable love for Marik), hoping that he wasn't too annoyed at her to reply and assure their second son that mummy and daddy did indeed still love one another. Marik returned the gaze of his wife, his eyes cold and austere, and then looked at his youngest son in the woman's arms, peeking up at his dad out of his fringe of brown hair that really needed cutting now despite the fact that Caiellis wouldn't be starting proper combat training for a couple of years, and muttered, "Put him down and stop patronising him, Emili."

"Marik!" the woman snapped, her irritation at her husband because of his blatant hypocrisy slipping out through the motherly and comforting visage she had created for the evidently scared Caiellis (as the boy was darting glances to the dark corners of the room as if he expected some form of monster from his dreams to drag itself out of the shadows and attack him), "I'll have you find that we both held Alexander when he was five years old, and that Caiellis is only four now. And I am not patronising him."

Marik's flinty gaze instantly softened and became contrite, and he straightened out of shame as his son watched curiously. Emili was right, he had held Alexander when he was older than Caiellis was now, he had just been irritated because of the potential for war and the fact that Caiellis acted very mature for his age often made Marik forget how old he actually was. Marik looked at Emili sorrowfully, his eyes begging for an apology from her, and held out his arms for his youngest son.

His wife smiled at him, glad that Marik was willing to atone for his rash words in front of their four year old son who might still be under the impression that his parents hated each other, and gently passed Caiellis over, her smallest son looking even tinier when in the arms of his tall and broad father. The boy looked up at the king, his bright and attentive eyes wide and gleaming, although that like was because of the moist tears that had been welling up in them, probably because of the nightmare he had just suffered through, and shifted his small body to get a better position in the king's arms. Marik smiled at the youngster, though his mind was still awhirl with different scenarios and possibilities relating to this supposed rebellion of the three cities that Johnias had the most control over.

Caiellis pressed his head against his dad's chest for a moment, feeling safer by the second as he stopped sending frightened glances over to the shadows of the room and trusted his father to protect him from the monsters of his dreams, knowing that his dad would guard him from the imaginary monsters that he knew weren't real but had seemed so convincing in his fitful slumber. Emili grinned at Marik for a second, although her eyes were still darkened by the potentially awful news hanging over them all, she just didn't want her perceptive son to pick up on that otherwise he would worry even more and think that if his mummy thought that something wasn't right then it wasn't just him imagining the nightmarish creations his sleeping mind had probably conjured up to scare him.

However, Emili was quite concerned about the frequency of her youngest son's nightmares, as this was the third in the past week in which five days had elapsed so far, and while she was aware that children his age did often have overly hyperactive creative powers and couldn't quite distinguish between reality and dream, Caiellis was having far more bad dreams than any boys or girls she had seen before at four years old. Normally it was Alexander who informed her if he had been wandering into the nursery and had seen his little brother tossing and turning within the bed, and even when Emili had tried sleeping with the boy the nightmares still happened.

She had tried to discuss it with Caiellis, but the boy had flat out refused to talk to her about it every time he had recovered from it, looking at her with a frightened tint to his eyes although Emili knew that the fear in them was not towards her, which at least meant he wasn't dreaming about something horrible like his mother abusing him which he would have no cause to think of whatsoever. Caiellis always thought that he was being stupid and pathetic (his own words, making Emili wonder who had said pathetic in his presence and for their sake hoped that it wasn't directed towards her youngest munchkin, otherwise there would be hell to pay and her motherly wrath was not something anyone would want to invoke) by murmuring in the night or waking up terrified, and was embarrassed about the dreams.

Emili simply hoped that they would go away and had already tried everything in her power to stop them, but at least they weren't awful enough that Caiellis would wake up screaming or start sleep walking, and he seemed to recover from them fast enough if he was with someone else that he trusted to protect him from whatever had happened in his nightmares. Short from taking him to some sort of psychiatrist or doctor, which Emili ideally wanted to avoid since it would make her intelligent son think that he was a freak (in spite of her protestations that he wasn't) and wouldn't be helpful for his development at all if he believed that there was something wrong with him, the queen had done everything that she could and had to leave Caiellis to deal with them himself while she comforted him and tried to help him through every step of the way.

However, she hadn't yet told Marik about the nightmares of Caiellis because of the fact that firstly the youngster had made her promise not to tell their dad (which she hadn't, because Emili hated breaking promises (especially to her children) and knew that she would), which wouldn't have stopped her in itself, and secondly even though she knew that her husband wanted to take as much an interest in their sons' lives as possible she didn't want to worry him with that as well as being a king. Added to the fact that the last few days her love had been immensely busy and had toppled into their bed exhausted had made the queen reluctant to inform him, and furthermore she didn't want Marik to have to worry about Caiellis at the moment.

Because of that Marik didn't know that the bad dream his youngest son had tonight was not entirely uncommon (thought at least it wasn't every night), but if the previous nightmares were any indication they had been growing steadily worse each time that he had them, and before the young boy had sleepily buried his head in his father's chest Emili had seen the haunted look in his eyes. Caiellis then extricated himself from Marik, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his tiny hands in a way that made Marik remember his youthfulness, and Marik rubbed a soothing circle on his son's back with his own hand to show Caiellis that he was safe and also had nothing to worry about.

"What was your bad dream about then, little guy?" the king asked affectionately, enjoying the hug with his youngest son, and Caiellis looked up at him with his wide and young eyes that often seemed to be filled with childish wonder and inquisitiveness but also understanding that Marik had come to expect from the insightful boy who had often said things to him that he would never have expected from a four year old but just made Marik love him even more.

He loved both of his perceptive sons, though they seemed like they would be counterparts to each other in the future if their personalities turned out like their characteristics would suggest now (with Caiellis being shy but very intelligent and his older brother being easily confident and enthusiastic), even if at the moment Caiellis admired his older brother and father and wanted to be exactly like them and therefore copied a lot of the things that Alexander (whom he saw more of than his dad) did – which was far more often than not a good thing, but occasionally also a negative one if he tried to do something reckless like his mischievous brother (or if Alexander got irritated by his brother acting like he did). They still got on very well at the moment, although because Alexander was eight now he didn't have the same timeless attention span for being with his younger brother which was entirely expected and would prefer to do things with people his age or things that his brother couldn't do (which, although he accepted it with little fuss, seemed to annoy Caiellis to no end that there were things he wasn't permitted to do that Alexander was because of the four year age gap).

Marik heard Emili tutting at him quietly in the background, and wondered if asking Caiellis the subject of something that had woken him up out of his sleep and made him want to find his parents, though at least he had stopped trembling with fright and directing scared glances around the room. Caiellis met his dad's gaze again, and took a deep, hitching breath after sniffling slightly, making Marik smile proudly at him as he looked as if he was preparing himself for facing his fears and talking about his nightmare, "I dreamed that a mean monster was going to take me and Alesh (Marik wasn't sure whether Caiellis pronounced his brother's name wrong because of his age of just four (for which he had incredible speech capabilities) or to annoy Alexander, or both) away from you and mummy."

Marik opened his mouth to speak, before shutting it again as he sensed that his son was about to continue and was gathering his courage again, and it hit Marik how much Caiellis had been scared by the nightmare. He couldn't really blame the kid because of his tender age, and he had been the same when he had been even older than that, and Marik ensured that he smiled encouragingly at Caiellis to assure him that his words were welcome even as his eyes were narrowed in consternation, as the boy choked back a whimper, knowing that neither his big brother or daddy would act the same as he was doing now. "I dreamed (Marik was sure that he could wait until another time to inform the boy that the past participle of dream was dreamt) that the mean monster had a brother and … and ..."

Caiellis blew his nose and violently brushed away the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Marik decided to rock his son gently as he plunged into the awful memories of this nightmare of his that he could evidently remember quite well, Emili sending her son a sympathetic glance before moving over to his side and tenderly brushing his brown locks of hair. Marik shared a glance with his wife again, though this one was more concerned for their baby boy (who would vehemently deny that he was a baby whenever his brother teased him by calling him his baby brother, amusing Alexander to no end) rather than annoyance at her and fear for his family (though the latter was still present), and adjusted his grip so that the boy could move around easier when he started squirming, although Marik didn't quite want to let him go yet.

Caiellis took another deep breath to stop himself from sobbing at the horrible thoughts of the dream that was the worse one he had ever had, not wanting to look like a stupid baby in front of his mummy and daddy (especially the latter), "Sorry … 'm such a baby. The mean m-monster's b-brother w-was ... a d-demon with b-black eyes and it … and it … a-and it k-killed m-mummy … and then the other o-one t-took m-me and A-alesh a-away from d-daddy..."

Marik hugged his son close as he broke down in tears for a short moment, wondering what was going on inside of Caiellis's head to make his subconscious think such awful thoughts that had evidently and understandably scared him quite deeply, but something that Caiellis had said had shocked the king and he waited until just after Caiellis stopped himself from crying to gently tilt the youngster's head up and stare into his red-rimmed eyes, asking with a note of firmness, "How did you know that the mean monster's brother was a demon, Caiellis? Tell me why you thought it was a demon."

"Marik!" Emili exclaimed in annoyance again, feeling that the man should be more focussed on comforting his still quiet son instead of ascertaining the species of being that had appeared in his dream, and in her opinion Caiellis had probably just said demon because he had heard it before and thought that it meant any form of evil being.

She had half a mind to take Caiellis out of his father's arms and comfort him herself, but Marik's love had always been slightly tougher than her own (as she was wont to babying her children sometimes if they were hurt or needed emotional comfort whereas because of his upbringing Marik had always possessed more of a "suck it up" mentality that didn't quite extend to the soft spot of his young family) and the king was clearly concerned by the fact that Caiellis had mentioned demons. Anyway, little Cai looked quite eager to follow his father's orders, so Emili would let Marik take the lead for now, supposing that perhaps giving him commands instead of soothing him might work.

Marik was disturbed by the fact that Caiellis had mentioned demons, because although his youngest would almost certainly have heard of them by now what with the history books he read (though Marik had always omitted them when reading to his second son, as Alexander was old enough to know about the creatures of the darkness now) he should know, even at his young age of four, that there was a difference between the mean monsters of dreams and demons that were all too real and were the greatest enemies of the Kingdom of Light.

He knew that Caiellis was still very young and probably didn't understand the difference that well, but his youngest would never have seen a demon before and shouldn't be able to distinguish between a normal horrible creature of nightmares and a demon as the four year old had only moments earlier. Caiellis needed to be taught that there was a very big reason why demons were not on the same scale as beings from his fitful sleeps, but ensured that he didn't look critical of or angry to his snuffling little boy who had been frightened by his awful nightmare and didn't need his daddy annoyed at him as well as that – as he had already seen him and Emili arguing which was bad enough.

"It had black eyes," Caiellis began, shutting his eyes so that he could better remember the beast that had made the dream him scream in fear and so that he could help his daddy now that the man wanted to know something, "And really big curly horns. It had really big claws on one hand that … that it used to … that it..."
The boy started crying again, big fat tears cascading down his cheeks as he pressed his head into his concerned father's shoulder, the man sharing another pitying glance with his wife as his unfounded annoyance with his youngest son dissolved completely – what little Caiellis had described did sound like some form of demon, although it was a wingless one, but although it did worry Marik he believed that it didn't mean that he was possessed (as Teylaisian Illustri had reported that his poor daughter had dreamt of the demon that had manifested itself inside of her and forced her to be killed by the man who loved her more than anything, the Guardian of Vectura's wife killing herself soon after) as there would have been other signs and the man, being the Lucerna king, would have been able to sense corruption.

No, it was something else, and it was entirely possible that Caiellis had read some obscure history book with references or pictures of a similar demon to the one he had described which had meant that his over-active and child's imagination had turned it into a being to haunt his nightmares, and Marik rubbed his son's back reassuringly as the boy cried into his shoulder, feeling that he knew exactly what to do after eight years of parenting despite never having Caiellis cry when he was in his father's arms before, as his little boy murmured something in a wracking sob of utter sadness that had Marik's heart aching for the youngster and what he his mind had forced him to go through in the middle of the night.

In spite of the words' quietness and lack of volume, the king and queen heard what was heard perfectly well, and it made Marik feel immensely sorry for Caiellis if this was what his perceptive and intelligent mind that nevertheless belonged to a four year old that couldn't quite distinguish between dream and reality made him think of, "It u-used t-the c-claws t-to k-kill m-mummy..."

Emili placed her hand on Caiellis's head, gently stroking the curly brown hair on top of his young head as he wept some more at the awful images he had seen in his nightmare, and Marik narrowed his eyes in concern as he nonetheless kept up with comforting his son. They stayed silent for a few seconds after Caiellis's words, each of the boys' parents thinking that they should leave him to finish his tears for a few seconds before intervening as the four year old sobbed and hitched in between whimpers, "M-mummy's n-not g-going t-to d-die, i-is she? I d-don't w-want m-mummy t-to d-die. I d-don't w-want d-daddy t-to l-leave us..."

"I am right here and fine, Caiellis. And I have no intentions of dying any time soon, sweetie, I promise," Emili soothed, moving in closer to Marik so that they could both embrace their sobbing youngest son at once, worried about the fact that this was the worst dream that Caiellis had had so far because of how much it had made him cry (as while Caiellis had never told her about his dreams he had described some of them to his older brother and confidante Alexander, and this was by far the worst but also the only one to involve some of his family members). Marik then gently plucked Caiellis away from where he had buried himself in the man's broad shoulder so that both he and Emili could hold the boy and assure him that there was nothing one, although Marik dearly hoped that his innocent youngest son hadn't heard anything about the turmoil in the wider kingdom that might whisk their father away from them, "And I am not going to leave you and Alexander, you have my word on it as a father and as the king of Lucael."

"P-promise?" Caiellis mumbled, brushing the tears out of his eyes with his small hands and staring up at his father again, his wide green eyes full of a sadness mixed with a hope that Marik could never have the heart to dispel. He looked up at Emili anyway, silently asking for confirmation whether he should inform his son that he might have to be leaving soon and not wanting to promise anything that there was a possibility of him not following up on, especially not to one of his young sons, and the woman nodded sadly to him, though the way that she did it made it obvious to Marik what he should say. Emili backed off slightly, allowing a small smile to work its way onto her motherly and concerned features at the bond that she shared with Marik and how the couple could often communicate without words because of the amount that they loved each other, and Marik placed his youngest son on the ground in front of him, softly removing Caiellis's tight grip on his arm that would have hurt in its intensity had it belonged to an adult.

He put his hands on his baby boy's thin shoulders, pondering if it would be beneficial to force him to eat more so that he didn't feel so thin but supposing that Caiellis would grow at his own rate and was only four years old – plenty of time for change – and gently titled the young boy's chin upwards so that his father could look into his welling and doleful green eyes as more tears streamed down his cheeks, Marik wondering how a child that had only lived four years of life could muster up such heart-wrenching sadness that would make even the harshest adult warm to him and feel that they had to take care of him (the king thought that even his cold and dispassionate late father who had ignored his own children's crying would have been broken out of his austere shell by Caiellis's sorrow), and brushed the tears away with one large finger.

"I promise that I will not leave you and Alexander, Caiellis. While I might be distant, and you might not be able to see me, I will always be with you," Marik softly gripped his son's thin and small arm at the wrist, ensuring that his grip was firm and reassuring but nowhere near hard enough to put the four year old under any discomfort whatsoever, and as Caiellis watched, enraptured by his father's words and motions as he stared into the man's warm blue eyes, his dad placed his son's small hand on his chest with his own much larger palm over it holding it there. Caiellis could feel the soft beating of what he knew was his heart underneath there, and he closed his eyes so that he could better focus upon the vibrations running through his hand that was underneath his father's hand that dispelled all of his fears and made him feel protected and safe, looking to the thirty one year old like his son was in silent repose as the tears stopped falling out of his eyes, and he smiled lovingly at Caiellis as he continued, "I will always be there, in your heart and watching over you no matter how far away I might be, Caiellis. And I will make sure that no nightmares will ever hurt you."

Emili thought she was going to cry at how loving and affectionate the statement was, wondering how her superhuman husband could cope with being a king of one of the most powerful but also the most threatened nations in the world, show huge amounts of love to his wife and be a perfect father to their children without snapping, and she wrapped a slender arm around his waist, all of her former annoyance with him utterly gone as she supposed that the palace would be perfectly safe and that she should trust her undying love more instead of arguing with him. Caiellis opened his eyes once again, all traces of the tears and fear that he had felt pushed away, although unbeknownst to his parents Caiellis was aware that the terror of losing the family that loved him was still locked away inside of him and ready to spring out at any moment, but he felt protected for now and knew that his awesome daddy and mummy wouldn't let anything hurt him or themselves and that the nightmare monsters would get completely owned by his parents.

He smiled up at his father, a small expression that contrasted heavily with Alexander's infectious grins of joy and excitement but nevertheless emphasised his happiness and made Marik grin back and ruffled his curly brown hair that he could excuse the length of because of the four year old's young age. The youngest Lucerna giggled and batted playfully at his father's hand, before another voice made everyone else turn around as it exclaimed, "So this is where you are, Cai! Holy shit, you had me really scared little brother!"

"Alexander Ensis Lucerna!" Emili replied, her voice loud and stern at the profanities present in her eight year old's statement as the tall for his age blonde stood in the doorway, his eyes that had been locked on his little brother, who had pulled out of his father's grip and stared at the floor guiltily, now mimicking the boy's actions as he glanced at the ground at his mum's admonishments, "Where did you learn such awful language, young man?!"
"Tristram said it," the eight year old mumbled, his voice tinged with slight sleepiness because of the fact it was almost midnight as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, making sure he didn't do it in the same way as his baby brother, and Emili shook her head disapprovingly as she scowled, muttering too quiet for Alexander and Caiellis to hear, "I swear, if that kid profanes any more in front of my innocent children then I will slap him so hard that his training up to this point will seem like a walk in the park."

Marik gulped nervously despite himself, his hand automatically making its way up to his cheek as knew that his wife would easily be able to make due on that threat as she smiled sweetly at Alexander who had raised his head again and was staring at his younger brother who had begun to slowly make his way behind his father without the man noticing, keeping his eyes glued to the floor all the while. Emili then said, her voice softer and more welcoming, "Just don't say it again, Alex. Sometimes adults (although I'm not sure that definition applies to Tristram) say rude words that shouldn't be repeated. Anyway, what are you doing up in the middle of the night, Alexander?"

"I was looking for him," Alex replied, pointing an accusing finger at his younger brother who (without looking) made himself look even smaller so that he could escape from his big brother's annoyance as he embarrassedly stared at the ground as the older boy continued, "'Cause I woke up in the middle of the night without my baby brother next to me and I wanted to know where he'd wandered off to."

"'M not a baby," Caiellis mumbled quietly, far too quiet for anyone but Marik to hear as the king turned around in confusion because of the direction the voice had seemed to be coming from, smiling when he saw that his son had stepped behind him instead of remaining at his side and patting the boy reassuringly onto the shoulder as if to tell him that he had heard and that he agreed that Caiellis wasn't a baby. Marik stared back at his eldest son who was in the process of glowering at his youngest, before Alexander stared back up at his dad and smiled, "Hey dad."

"Hello, Alexander," the man replied, his voice deep yet warm as he himself had been wondering how long it would take for his ever-protective eldest to notice that his little brother had gone (as Alexander seemed to be able to wake himself up or fall asleep at will, a trait that Emili shared in some respects but one that Marik had no familiarity with whatsoever and had often had trouble with insomnia and worry himself) and try to go and find him (as there was no way that Alexander would be content knowing that Caiellis had left without him knowing where the four year old had gone) and the boy grinned at him. Just by looking into the warm blue eyes that his eldest son had inherited from him Marik knew that Alexander had been waiting and watching him comfort the youngest member of their family because of the pride and happiness present in those thoughtful blue orbs, but even so the eight year old turned back to his brother and walked into the room, telling Caiellis, "So, why are you up here then, squirt? Spill the beans. You know that you are way too young to be getting up in the night, and way too small to be going around on your own."

Caiellis shot his the floor a glare for a second that looked to Marik as if the four year old hoped that the wooden floor of the medium sized dining room connected to the nursery kitchen had reflective properties so that the glower would bounce up at his four year older sibling without having to meet his gaze, and muttered again, although this time it was loud enough for his older brother to be able to hear his words, "'M not small. Mummy says that I'm a big boy now."
"Yeah well, you are smaller than a lot of kids at your age," Alexander responded, sticking his tongue out at his little brother although the boy still hadn't gazed up at the second youngest Lucerna, and his voice had a teasing resonance to it that Marik had often seen from his eldest son recently when he was lightly making fun of his younger brother with no intentions to hurt the younger boy's feelings because if he had been, if Alexander had been deeply insulting Caiellis with the intent to make the youngest prince feel bad and hurt him, then the king or his wife would step in to stop it and reprimand Alexander.

Right now, like it had always been since they were too young to have properly argued yet since Caiellis wasn't the sort of child to throw petulant tantrums or get really angry at his older siblings, Alexander's words were in jest and only a bit of brotherly banter. Marik thought back to the rare times where he and Johnias had light heartedly poked fun at one another, because most of the times if the eldest of the two twins made a joke his brother, still in the midst of his adolescent angst that he hoped that his children wouldn't have to suffer through, would normally have completely ignored him or stared at him without humour until he left and stopped trying to interact with his identical twin brother, and he had never really felt that comfortable in the past with teasing Johnias whereas his brother hadn't done much of the same either.

Life had been far too serious for either of them to waste time with that, not that Marik thought that the brotherly banter between his young sons (that Caiellis couldn't really participate in since he was at that age in his life where he almost worshipped the ground that his older brother walked upon) was a waste of time or anything less than absolutely adorable, better than he could have ever hoped for between his little boys (although Alexander was growing up at a frightening rate already, which probably meant that when he hit puberty he would shoot upwards).

"So why are you here when you should be in bed, Cai?" Alexander asked, breaking Marik out of his reverie, although he continued to rub his thumb against his youngest son's shoulder which he had started doing automatically and without thinking, and the blonde (who was followed by his mother, shutting the door behind him and muttering about the fact that since she had given birth to him she was aware that he hadn't been born in a farm unless she had been on some heavy drugs, making Marik smile) stepped in front of Caiellis. Marik pulled his hand away, wanting to give the two some space as he moved over to his wife and slung a casual arm around her shoulders, his way of saying sorry for the argument that they had had without spoiling the mood of youthfulness.

"I … I got up because I had a bad dream," Caiellis mumbled nervously, making Marik wonder why he was being so reticent to talk to his brother all of a sudden, supposing that Caiellis had been anxious about talking to Emili and the king as well (although perhaps that had something to do with the fact that they were arguing quite loudly), and the way that his baby boy said it made it seem like he was quite embarrassed but also still vaguely scared by the nightmare despite the fact that Marik had been under the presumption that his words had removed that fear. Then again, Caiellis was only four, and a good night's sleep would remove the darkness from his mind.

"Then why didn't you wake me up and talk to me about it?" Alexander asked him, placing a hand on his brother's thin shoulder that he was sure was way too skinny for a four year old that was supposed to be chubby, but at least Cai had become slightly more pudgier over the past few years instead of being sickly and thin, and not liking the way that Caiellis flinched back from the touch for a moment. Caiellis looked everywhere but his brother's eyes, imagining the blue orbs to be full of disapproval whereas if he had actually gazed into them he would have found them tired but sympathetic and warm instead of judging and harsh like he visualised them in his head. He had wanted to wake up his big brother and speak to him, but he didn't want to deprive the older boy of sleep (which he had ended up doing at any rate) and didn't want Alex to be angry at him because he had woken the boy up with one of his nightmares again.

Alex would think he was pathetic and lame, and Caiellis didn't want him to think that because if someone as cool as his brother disliked him then he wouldn't be liked by anyone and he knew that because of his age his brother already didn't really want to hang around with him. Caiellis was very intelligent at four years old, but because of that fact he knew how much he still had to learn instead of being proud of how much he knew, and because he only ever interacted with older people the youngest Lucerna thought that he was stupid and not cool in the slightest.

Furthermore, he had been crying despite trying to stop the tears, and Alex had said that only babies cried a few days ago. Caiellis wasn't a baby, and he didn't want his brother (who was admittedly his only friend because he found other children his age extremely annoying and unnecessarily loud) to think that he was either, and had tried to deal with it himself … but it had seemed so real, and Cai had known that sitting awake in the bed all night crying and shaking was not good and that he wanted help so he had gone to find either his mummy or daddy, happening upon them both at once but they had been shouting at each other, probably angry at him for being such a wimp. However, Caiellis wasn't entirely sure how to articulate all that in a way that wouldn't make him seem stupid, so settled on murmuring dejectedly: "'M sorry … didn't want to wake you up... didn't want you to be angry."

Apparently further words were unnecessary and Caiellis felt the hand on his shoulder grip it more reassuringly as his brother's voice spoke, "Aww, Cai. I wouldn't have been angry at you. Ok, maybe a little at first, but not when you explained that you had been in a nightmare. Come on, little guy, look at me."
Alexander jostled his brother's shoulder lightly as Caiellis slowly and apprehensively looked up into his brother's eyes, the boy even taller than him than he had been roughly a year ago even though Caiellis had grown quite a bit, and to his surprise Alexander's eyes weren't full of irritation and anger at his little brother who was such a wimp and had cried over a bad dream, though Alex looked tired even to him (though he was clearly trying to hide it) and also slightly worried about his little brother, but instead the young blue orbs were warm and filled with a brotherly love that made Caiellis feel like Alexander wasn't as annoyed at him as he had perhaps previously thought. The older boy smiled at him patently, something that Marik knew that his eldest had imitated from watching him and Emili do similar, and Caiellis brushed his wet eyes on the sleeve of his adorable nightwear. He then apologised again, because he felt quite awful himself because of the nightmare and the fact that he felt exhausted but didn't want to have to go back to sleep, "Sorry. I should have woken you up. Sorry for being such a baby."

"Aww, Cai, you have nothing to be sorry for," Alexander told him, wrapping his arm around the back of his brother's shoulders instead of just having his hand there, and then pulled him round into a light headlock that Tristram had once taught him at the eldest prince's constant insistences that he learn that sort of move, and that he had used on his brother when they had the official photograph taken of them in the short gap between their birthdays where Alex was five years older than his brother, though dad had shouted at him and they had taken another afterwards. He continued, giving his brother a gentle noogie on top of his mop of wavy brown hair, "And you aren't a baby. Just a wimp."
"Ow-ow! Stop it, Alesh!" the boy yelped, struggling against his brother who shook his head and rolled his eyes, astonished at the fact that Caiellis could find the most gentle actions painful – who was he kidding? He had put a bit of force into it, but not enough to actually hurt just to irritate his brother, but that was what he was allowed to do as a big brother so there. The boy's little hands pulled almost desperately at the arm that was plied loosely around his neck, so Alexander reduced the force on that even more in case it was actually somehow restricting his brother's breathing (which would be close to impossible but the eight year old did not want to hurt his sibling in any way), and Alexander rolled his eyes, adding, "See what I mean?"

"Don't be rough with your brother, Alexander," Marik chastised in unison with Emili, the two smiling at one another as their voices rang out at the exact same time, and Alexander put Caiellis down but still kept an arm slung around his brother's shoulders so that he still had contact but the much smaller boy could get away whenever he wanted to, and all four of them stood in companionable and familial silence for a few seconds as Caiellis yawned quietly and moved his hair out of his face, his eyes turning back from outraged at his older brother to slightly frightened or worried. Alexander gripped his sibling's shoulder once again, and asked, "What did you dream about then, squirt?"
"I dreamed of the black eyed monster again. It was hurting mummy and taking daddy away," Caiellis responded softly after a brief delay of checking the room around him to make sure that he was safe, because in the nightmare he had started off safe and happy then the demon had appeared and ripped his mummy apart in front of his eyes as its brother held Alexander still and dragged daddy away from them as the man shouted. However, he didn't want to say the word "demon" again despite that apparently being what it was, since he didn't want to annoy daddy like he had done when he said it the first time. Marik narrowed his eyes and stifled a gasp when he picked up on the fact that his youngest son had said "again", suggesting that he had dreamt of the demon before. Hopefully that just meant that whatever he had read about it from had made a great impression upon his young mind, because having a demon enter one's nightmares multiple times was extremely awful and did not bode will for the person subjected to it.

Marik resolved to ask Caiellis about all of his dreams, but another time, a time when his youngest son wasn't distraught and still recovering from a nightmare, a time when his family wasn't enjoying itself and reminding Marik what he had to protect in this potential civil war and why he would risk his life for the peace any day. Alexander manoeuvred the willing Caiellis round in front of him again so that he could look into his brother's wide green eyes that reminded him so much of their mum again, and crouched down to his height in a way that with others would be extremely patronising but with the four year old's elder brother it was immensely reassuring and made them feel closer.

"What did I tell you the last time you had that dream? Do you remember?" Alex asked the smaller boy, who nodded eagerly but not too enthusiastic to dispel his sadness and tiredness. Marik and Emili watched carefully and intently at the two boys, wondering what had been said between them, and Caiellis answered, his voice soft and quiet but full of courage and admiration for his older brother, "I remember. You said that Alesh would never let that happen and that you'd make his black eyes even blacker if it tried to hurt me."

Marik snorted despite himself, feeling the tension that had saturated the atmosphere without him noticing draining from the air, and both of the adults in the room felt themselves relaxing and smiling as Alexander ruffled his brother's already messy hair, "Damn straight, little brother. And don't you forget it."

Caiellis pushed Alexander's hand away with a giggle and Marik checked the chronometer in his pocket to see what time it was, muffling a gasp when he remembered that he had organised a strategy session that would take place in less than ten minutes within the strategium of the palace to discuss what was to be done about this talk of rebellion – as it couldn't wait until tomorrow and it was why he had stayed up this late in the first place and had gone to see Emili where she had been in the nursery kitchen over an hour ago. With the argument and then the entrance of his stricken youngest son, Marik had completely and uncharacteristically forgotten about the meeting, and while he supposed that it wouldn't be good for his standing to arrive tardy all of the generals and high-standing figures of Capitalia Lux knew him well and would understand his reasoning if he told them.

He didn't want to suddenly rush off, but he also didn't want to be late either for such an important meeting and he could see his family playing any day as Alexander began gently tickling his little brother, and quietly informed Emili of this new development. The woman nodded silently, still beautiful at thirty one, and Marik kissed her on the forehead before turning to his two playfully squabbling youngsters. "Come on, you two, it's about time you went back to bed and got to sleep, otherwise you will be grumpy in the morning."

There was a mutter of dissent from Alexander that Marik didn't quite catch, but he stopped relentlessly assaulting his hysterically giggling brother and turned the younger boy round as his body was wracked with barely suppressed laughter and his eyes shone with a happiness that made Marik feel happy – as there was no better experience as a parent than to see one's children happy, just as there was no better sight for a husband to see their partner happy. He knelt down slightly so that he could better be at their height, though with the rate that Alexander was growing he would only have to wait ten years or so until he was as tall as or even taller than his six foot seven father. He then told the two, "Alright, my sons. I'm going to be frank; I will be busy for the next few days. There are things happening in the kingdom that I have to take care of, nothing either of you should worry about, but I might not be able to see you as often as I would like. However, that doesn't mean that I don't love you, and I will return as soon as I can once I have solved everything."

"We know, dad," Alexander spoke first, the more confident out of his two sons taking the lead as usual, backed up by Caiellis's, "We love you too, daddy."

Marik swept them, and Emili who had leaned down as well, into a large hug, lifting both of his children off of their feet and embracing them tightly, never wanting to let go of his family and wanting to stay here forever as he felt three more pairs of arms wrapping around him as well as Caiellis's head rested against his shoulder and brushed it with his soft hair. He wished he could hold onto this moment forever, but knew that he was pushing it by even staying this long before keeping his generals waiting, and said, "I'm going to have to go now. I have an important meeting in the palace, and you two youngsters should be in bed and asleep at this time of night."

Caiellis's eyes turned to his, the green orbs full of a question that Marik knew would be asked soon, and pre-emptively he assured him, "Yes, I will make sure that everything is safe. I will protect all three of you. I promise. Remember what I told you, Caiellis."

The boy placed his hand over his beating heart again almost reverently, feeling indestructible with his family wrapped up around him like this, and to Marik's surprise and happiness Alexander did the same, making him remember that the eldest of his sons was still only eight and needed reassuring just as much as his youngest did. Marik kissed each one of his family on the forehead, and, wishing that he didn't have to, put them back down as Emili placed a hand on each of her sons' shoulders. "You'd best get going then, Marik."

"I love you all," the king told them, feeling that he had to make sure that they knew that, and each of them replied with, "Love you too, Marik/dad/daddy."

Then he left, knowing that Emili was perfectly capable with putting them to bed despite wanting to stay and be with them until they drifted off back to sleep.

It would be the last time he saw his wife before she died.