She couldn't hear them over the sound of her own whimpering, and if she couldn't hear someone, she didn't know they were there.
"How is he?" A voice broke from the darkness.
"Gone," she whispered. "Gone."
"What?"
"Gone. I know not where. Gone, perhaps forever," she said.
"Ah, that's bloody ridiculous it is," Biorr interjected. She heard his heavy footfalls. "He comes back. Ye said it yerself. He said it himself."
She shook her head. "No, it beith different this time. He hath vanished into the gaps between worlds. The nexial binding canth not find him."
"But he's not dead," Ostrava's hopeful tone.
"No. Twould beith better if he were," she said. "He cometh back from death, but from this..."
Her head drooped, and her hands ran along the cold stone floor, back and forth, trying and failing to soothe herself. "Gone."
Ostrava approached the body, she heard it rustle as he examined it. There was a long silence.
"Lad..." Biorr murmured.
"Just...just give me a minute," Ostrava said. "I can find a way to-"
"Ye can't. If she can't, then ye can't."
Ostrava didn't move.
"Step away from him, lad."
"It's not fair...we didn't even have a chance."
"No, we didn't. That's how an ambush works."
Ostrava stood up. The Maiden heard him turn away.
"I guess we're on our own, now."
Ornea tried to keep up, but she was limping.
"Lady Mephistopheles...please...please wait."
The woman stopped at the end of the alley. Turned slowly.
"He cut my leg, and...I can't so this."
She narrowly managed to avoid falling.
Mephistopheles looked up at the rooftops above, then back at Ornea. "I am going to climb."
"I can't," Ornea said.
"You will."
"I-" but before she could object again, Mephistopheles was already scaling the wall's outcroppings. She climbed easily to the rooftop, then looked down from it.
Ornea hissed, and backed up for a running start. She held back a squeal the moment her foot hit the the ground, but rushed forward all the same, her fingers gripped the handholds. She made it a few feet before plummeting.
Mephistopheles looked down at her, lying on the ground, and cocked her head. "Disappointing."
"Can we just take an easier route?" Ornea asked as she got up.
Mephistopheles frowned, then started climbing down from the wall again. When the reached the ground, she turned, and started walking toward Ornea. When she reached her, she just stood there, silently.
"I know," Ornea said. "We have to hide...but I'll be quiet, I promise. Slower, yes, but still quiet. You don't have to worry about-"
Then she felt the dagger embedding itself in her stomach.
"You aren't quiet," Mephistopheles said.
Ornea looked down, and saw the blade jabbing into her, with Mephistopheles' fingers wrapped around it. Blood flowed out from her, down the blade, and between them. Mephistopheles twisted, and she keeled over. She looked up at her mentor for some hint of regret, and saw nothing.
"W-why..." she gasped.
"Your souls are more valuable than you are," Mephistopheles said.
Ornea stammered. "But...you were...you were like my mother. You were our mother."
Mephistopheles froze. There was something in her eyes. Ornea wondered if she'd appealed to something in her. She'd pull the dagger out now, and heal her, and apologize. She had to. It was just them. They were the only people left, and Ornea had never had parents. Mephistopheles was the closest thing. She'd kicked them and abused them and yelled at them. It was insane to call her that, but it was true.
Mephistopheles pulled out the dagger.
"Lady Mephistopheles...I-" Ornea started.
She interrupted. "I'm not a mother." Then, with a deft swing of the blade, she slit Ornea's throat.
Afterward, she cracked open Ornea's augite, and felt the cursed energy enter her. It was a dark, evil thing.
But if they were going to make use of it, they had to do so efficiently.
It occurred to her, then, that she had the power of almost every member of the soul society flowing through her. She made a solemn promise to do them all justice, then scrambled up the wall again. This time, she moved so quickly that she was up it in half the time.
Both of her targets had survived. But she had time. And they had to come to her eventually. There was nowhere else to go.
Ostrava chewed on the moongrass as firmly as he could, as if mashing it down with ferocity would make him heal faster. When he downed it, he grabbed another patch.
"Easy there, lad," Biorr said. "We only have a limited amount of this stuff."
Ostrava continued chewing, and swallowed. "It's up to us, now, Biorr. We're the only ones left."
Biorr rustled to get a better sitting position, "Yeah."
"He was a better fighter than me. Maybe even better than you. And he was immortal. He was-"
"To be fair, he did try to kill us," Biorr said.
"But he didn't. He wouldn't," Ostrava said.
"Whatever ye say, but I've come into the habit of being partial to people who don't think of killin me in the first place. It's served me well."
Ostrava stopped chewing suddenly, and looked downward. "He was my friend. I think. It's stupid, I barely knew him."
"Ye fought together, lad," Biorr said. "Men who fight together bond years in days. Just the way it works."
Ostrava nodded. Then froze. There was a pause.
"I don't want to fight again, Biorr."
Biorr grimaced. It wasn't a surprised look at all. He had to have known this was coming.
"That boy..."
"-Was trying to kill us," Biorr said. "Yer havin this problem, lad."
"I know...it's not him, though. It's me. I don't think I can kill again. I thought it would be the same as killing a soulless soldier. I thought that there would be no difference."
"But there was," Biorr said.
"My hands haven't stopped shaking. They take breaks, pauses, but they don't actually stop."
"Yeah," Biorr said.
"What do you mean, 'yeah'?" Ostrava said. "As if it's just that simple?"
"It happened to me. It happens to everyone. When ye kill for the first time, it feels nasty. But ye get used to it."
"I don't want to get used to it," Ostrava said. "If I'm ever king, I shouldn't be used to it."
"If yer ever king, yer gonna have to kill a lot more than one person. Ye'll give orders that'll send a thousand men to their deaths. Just goes with the job."
"Maybe," Ostrava said. "But I can't be callous about it. If I ever am..." he remembered what he'd seen in the swamp. "...nothing good will come of it. And its lot easier than I thought it was. That's what I realized. This sliding scale from good to evil doesn't have any notches. You'll wake up one day on the wrong side of it without any indication of how it happened."
"Yer father," Biorr said.
"He made a lot of mistakes. But this shouldn't have happened. There was still a good man in him, I know there was. If he's still alive...as unlikely as that is..."
"What'll ye do?"
"I don't know, Biorr," Ostrava shook his head. "Honestly; I just don't know. But I have to save him. He's my father."
"Then we have to go," Biorr said.
Ostrava looked over at the Maiden, still running her fingers through Nameless' hair.
"Milady," Ostrava asked, though he doubted his own sanity in doing so. "If you need another Champion, I will bind myself to the Nexus."
She shook her head.
"But-"
"Thou dost not understand," the Maiden said. "Who hath slain four Archdemons? Thee? No, he hath done it, he hath done everything. The Old One spoketh to him, not you. There beith no replacement. Without him, we have lost...and it is my fault. I took him there, where he beith now lost."
"Milady, we can't give up. We have to keep trying."
"No," she shook her head. "No."
"Ignore her, lad," Biorr whispered. "It was a nice sentiment. But she ain't gonna listen. She was too attached to him."
Ostrava stood up. "That's ridiculous," he said. "I can take his souls. You know I can."
"Thou couldest...if his soul were here," she said. "I even gave him the option to leave. He couldeth, if he wished...though he never spoketh whether he would...but with him gone, the souls of all four Archdemons are gone with him. The Old One shall call for someone else...someone we have not control over."
"Give me the nexial binding," Ostrava said.
"At this point, it beith less risk to hope he returneth."
Ostrava stepped forward, and she turned like lightning.
"DO NOT TOUCHEST HIM!" And as she screamed, he saw something infinitely black appearing in her throat, just a glimpse of it, but enough for him to back away. Beneath the wax on her face, an indescribable glow appeared. Darkness crawled along her skin.
"Do not touchest mine champion," she whispered, turning back to Nameless. She placed his head in her chest. "Please, comest back to me..."
Ostrava stood there, frozen.
"Let's go, lad," Biorr said, and a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
Ostrava sighed, and nodded.
They left her there, cradling him in her arms, and went to the portal, where they transported themselves back to Boletaria, the place they had started their journey.
And the Maiden in Black's soft whimpers were heard by her alone.
A thousand years. Almost all of us dead. For this.
The Monumental closed his eyes.
"Wake up, sir Thomas."
Sir Thomas?
The man who had forgotten his name opened his eyes, and remembered everything.
I'm a bad person.
There are a few reasons why this chapter is so short. One is because I wanted to experiment with making you guys not wait as long for a chapter that wasn't as long. One is because I'm trying to get better at cliffhangers. And I mean better in the objective sense of getting people to want to read the next chapter/hate you more. Finally, the best reason is that I wanted to let you all know about Anazia, the first chapter of which is already up on Jukepop. There's a link to it in my profile. It's the story of a friendship between a girl and a spider. Also the spider is going to get really big.
I'm going to try really hard to update both this and Anazia regularly, but it's tough to take on multiple projects. However, Imma be honest: this fanfiction was never first priority. Even when I was working on it over the past year and a half, I was also working on other things I cared about more. BUT, Anazia is also significantly harder to write. Because, and I'll be honest again, there are a lot of times writing fanfiction when you can just rest on your laurels and settle for something that is "good." But original fiction cannot just be "good," it has to be GREAT. Otherwise, nobody cares about it. For obvious reasons, Anazia is priority one until approximately the end of Summer, when I finish it. Sorry about that.
But thanks for reading, thanks for reviewing, and thanks for encouraging me. Seriously, you guys are great.