Disclaimer: I do not own HunterxHunter, nor do I profit commercially from these writings.

Lucian's Story Part 12

ON THE WAY TO AN END

"Come, Holy Saint. Time is of essence."

Those words kept ringing in the Holy Saint's head as he stared bemusedly at the hand that was extended toward him, offering a safe escape from the building doomed to collapse. He wondered if he would seal the proverbial 'deal with the devil' if he took that hand.

As if to emphasise the urgency of the situation and his own reeling mind, the building shook again and a portion of the ceiling fell off and crashed onto the floor. Fire descended from the hole on the ceiling and burned everything within its reach. In no time, the room was engulfed in red hot fire. The undead's pale complexion was tinted red, and it gave him an even more infernal appearance.

But what shocked the Holy Saint was the notable lack of bloodlust in those cold hard eyes. They were cool and calm. Calculated, yes, but no malice. Most importantly, they were sincere. And that knowledge sealed his decision.

"I will heed your advice," the Holy Saint declared with strong voice, "but I shall make my escape on my own term."

Yes. He would do that. If God willed that he escaped from this doomed place, He would guide his path into safety. Perhaps, in a twisted sense of irony—hey, who was he to question God's sense of humour and the execution of His grand plan? At this point, his oh-so-grand title as the Holy Saint was entirely redundant—the undead was Godsent, to nudge him to the correct path, so he would be able to redeem himself.

"Good day." He said politely to the undead with head held high. He didn't berate himself for the gratitude that tinted his voice. He didn't begrudge it. He owed it to the undead.

With renewed vigour that almost did not befit his age and his frail countenance, the Holy Saint turned around and strode towards the door with confident gait. Even among the roaring fire and the crumbling structure, the Holy Saint managed to catch the undead's last words to him.

"How curious. You would be the first religious figure to bid me a good day."

Those words were laced with amusement, and the Holy Saint did not detect the slightest hint of sneer in it. Nor did the Holy Saint miss the equally sincere and good-natured "Have a safe escape" that followed soon after. The Holy Saint found himself smiling at those words.

And so with that smile etched on his weathered face, the Holy Saint walked down blood-soaked, burning corridor of the citadel. Throughout the walk, he remained immaculate and untouched. The flames stayed away from him; seemingly refusing to lick his billowing garbs, and soot slid away from him like water on duck.

"Holy Saint!"

I am not holy.

"Your Excellency!"

Nor am I a royalty.

"Please rally the troops' morale! The undead are relentless!"

This is not military!

"What shall we do?!"

Without breaking his steady stride, the Holy Saint strode down the burning halls while addressing his men flocking about him like distressed ducklings:

"Our duty is to spread the words of our Heavenly Father. Not to mete out judgement. Who are we to judge mankind, for we are men ourselves? No, that is a prerogative reserved to our Heavenly Father."

The moment he walked through the citadel's main gate, it collapsed like bread crumbs in his wake. He went on, unfazed and almost unconcerned with the trail of destruction behind him. .

"We have transgressed. All of us. We have overstepped our boundaries. Let the fire cleanse this corrupted place, for in death there is life anew. We shall start again from zero, and this time we will all be better people."

And so his men; Holy Knights, clergymen and simple servants, trailed behind him like helpless ducklings as they made their way out of Hiera Sedes. The moment the Holy Saint reached a safe distance from the Hiera Sedes, a figure of black dragon rose from the heart of the palace, tearing everything down as it flied to the dark starless sky cloaked in fire and thunder.

The Holy Saint observed the burning citadel as it was levelled to the ground, and all he felt was relief.

She woke up to the sound of crackling fire, followed by the singing of the nightlife. Kurapika groggily opened her eyes, and her eyes landed on the only source of light in the vicinity.

She stared at the dancing flame of the campfire for what seemed forever. She felt a sense of nostalgia, as she recalled the distant memories of her journey around the world with Kuroro ages ago. They would often camp out in the forest when they were too far away from civilization. Even during the first trip when Kurapika had wanted nothing more than to rip the Spider's head off, they still had sat shoulder-to-shoulder for warmth—and also because of that damned cuff that Hassamunnin locked around their wrists. Only during their second trip in their search for Meta did they start cuddling for warmth at night when they camped out.

Her absentminded gaze onto the campfire was broken when she heard voices. And that was when questions started to pop.

Where—what—? How long have I been out? Where's Kuroro?

Random questions along those lines bombarded her head as she scanned the immediate area for the Spider Head. It took her two flat seconds to locate him.

He was standing at the edge of their makeshift campsite, a phone pressed to his ears. His back was turned to her and he was talking in low voice, but Kurapika could feel the intensity of the conversation. Whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn't a social call from Fino. Most probably a report of some sort from the Spiders. If that was the case, then it was none of her business. If it was indeed her business, Kuroro would let her know.

With that in mind, Kurapika turned her attention away from Kuroro. Naturally, the only thing in the vicinity that could hold her attention was the thrice-damned mountain of rubble that had trapped Lucian and Bia underground. She had to keep reminding herself that they were still alive, so that she wouldn't go into another panic attack.

Slowly, she stood up and walked towards the mountain of rubble. Once out of the protection of the forest and the warmth range of the campfire, Kurapika shivered violently as the cold wind blew around her in the open area. The night was cold and the wind was harsh, but Kurapika tried to ignore it. Instead, she kept walking until she was only a few metres away from the ruins, and then proceeded to summon out her Dowsing Chain.

Earlier in the morning, before she collapsed, it hadn't occurred to her to use her Dowsing Chain to determine whether Bia and Lucian were still alive or not. Her Dowsing Chain was perfectly capable to divine such things. After years of practicing on her errant children who made it their duty to go missing all the friggin' time, Kurapika had become the master of dowsing people's location and lifeforce, as well as determining whether they were still alive or not.

The Dowsing Chain was still as it dangled from her outstretched finger.

"Are they alive?"She asked the Dowsing Chain in a soft whisper, and half-prayed half-threatened the pendulum to sway, goddamit!

She felt the world turned brighter when the pendulum swayed, strong and sure.

"Predicting whose pregnancy now?" Kuroro's voice rang with thick amusement as she heard the sound of his footsteps approaching her.

Kurapika groaned in embarrassment as she dismissed her Dowsing Chain and buried her face in her hands. When Fino discovered that her Dowsing Chain could divine the lifeforce of all living things no matter how small and minute, she had bullied Kurapika into using this particular skill as impromptu pregnancy test and Kuroro Lucifer made it his life goal to never let her live this down. The first time he had discovered this and seen her face, he had laughed so hard until he got stomach cramp.

"God Almighty, angels above and demons below. Will you ever shut up about it?" She groaned as she glared daggers at him, face still beet red.

Kuroro's response was that boyishly handsome smile of his that was as effective as any cute children's puppy-eyes. It was a smile reserved only for her, and his trump card to get away with about anything. Kurapika swore that Noah got that charming smile straight from Kuroro. The boy usually only made small smiles at most, but when he did smile broadly it was the most handsome sight...ever…

Kurapika paled.

"Noah!" She shrieked as she clawed at her face and started looking around frantically. "And Meta and Sarai! Where—"

"Shalnark brought them home hours ago." He informed her before she went into another full blown panic. "He picked them up before you even collapsed."

"Oh…" Kurapika deflated with relief. "Good…"

"...And they saw everything."

That broke her heart. Those young souls had to witness their eldest sister being slaughtered like that… It would scar them for life.

"Meta is shell-shocked. Sarai had gone into hysterics and eventually fainted out of sheer exhaustion. Noah…"

Kurapika's stomach churned. She didn't like that pause.

"What's wrong with him?" She asked with dread.

"He ran away."

One second.

Two second.

"WHAT?!"

Kuroro gave a long-suffering sigh as he grabbed Kurapika around the waist with both arms when she looked like she was about to fly away like a freaked out pigeon.

"The moment they reached home, Noah immediately commandeered Bara and they flew away Lord knows where." Kuroro paused, and added as if as an afterthought: "He took his bisento with him."

"What?! Who is he going to fight?!"

On hindsight, he probably shouldn't have told her the last bit. Noah was generally pacifist, but when he picked up his bisento that usually meant he was going to pick some serious nasty fight.

"Anansi is tracking him down right now even as we speak." Kuroro told her in hope she wouldn't go more ballistic than she already was.

"Anansi?" Kurapika was surprised. Kuroro usually made the Spiders do this kind of odd job; tracking their children down whenever they went AWOL or MIA—whether intentionally or by accident—had been the Spider's part-time job at some point.

Kuroro gave her a wry grin.

"This is Noah on his own, Kurapika." He said, as if it explained everything.

And it actually did. Noah was the ninja of their family. He wasn't on Killua's level yet, but he was steadily getting there. He was stealthier than all his siblings combined. On his own, he would not be found if he did not want to be found. For whatever reason, only Anansi or Kuroro could track him down whenever he did his vanishing act. Kurapika never voiced it out, but she suspected that it had something to do with their bond with Ishtar, in one way or another.

"Oh God…" Kurapika rubbed her face vigorously with her hands in frustration. "Why is he doing this now?!"

Noah had never caused trouble before. Out of the four children, Noah was the only one who had stayed out of trouble enough that he didn't need bailing out from them. In fact, if it wasn't for him, Sarai would have needed more bailing out than what was in her current record.

"Let's take a leap of faith and assume Noah knows what he's doing." Kuroro said with placating tone, although he himself was itching to track down his errant youngest son.

"Easy to say…" Kurapika murmured wearily, and decided to change the topic. "Has Heen told you anything more about Lucian's and Bia's health or whatever he's keeping track of?"

Kuroro blinked at this question. Oh, right. He hadn't told her.

"Heen is currently out of commission."

At that, Kurapika gave him a bewildered face.

"What? Why?"

"Madame Sforza broke his paralysing Nen on Lucian, and the repercussion is the same as when your Nen chain is broken."

Kurapika winced in sympathy; she was all too familiar with that painful sensation of her Nen being broken. However, her attention was taken by the other name that Kuroro had mentioned.

"That Madame Sforza. Who is she?" Kurapika asked in a tone that was a curious mix between a whimper, an angry hiss, indignation, and the slightest bit of despair. She had been so powerless before that woman.

"A Solomonar Witch who makes it her duty to watch over Lucian. She took gypsy fortune-teller as an occupation. But other than that, I don't know..."

He really didn't know. All those years, Madame Sforza had always maintained an enigmatic air around her, never once revealing her identity and the nature of her existence to him. Even that one time when she gave Kuroro warning of the disaster that would befall Lucian, she had only given him the barest minimum of information regarding herself. The exact nature of her connection to Lucian was something even he could not make a guess on. But if he was to make assumptions...

"What I am sure of her is that she is doing all of these with Lucian's well-being in her best interest. If she is as ruthless as I assume she is, she would have ensured with everything she has in her disposal that Lucian will survive this. In the current circumstances, Lucian's survival would mean Bia's survival as well. In other words, her preparations would also ensure Bia's survival."

Kurapika contemplated his words for a while, before she looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you trying to comfort me?"

"More like trying to pacify you." At her offended look, he elaborated with a chuckle: "You look ready to hunt down Madame Sforza. I would rather have you here trying to unearth Lucian and Bia from out there with me rather than going on another quest of vendetta."

Kurapika rolled her eyes. It had been a running-gag between the two of them; about Kurapika going on a quest of vendetta much like her old revenge-mission against the Genei Ryodan, and Kuroro so loved using it as an analogue whenever she felt wronged by someone.

"So...Do we get them out now?"

Now Kuroro gave her a winning grin.

"Of course. Whenever you're ready." He said as he condensed his Nen on his fist.

Kurapika smirked at him as she raised her fists and used her Emperor Time to build up her Nen to the maximum.

"Always."

There wasn't even a countdown. The two of them moved in perfect synchronization that any twins would be jealous of. They unleashed all of their Nen onto that seemingly unmovable mountain of rubbles, and the combined force of their condensed Nen was so strong that it looked as if the mountain of rubble was vaporised. They both waited until the dusts cleared up a bit before they approached the edge of the hole where the mountain of rubble had been.

With heart in her throat and dread pooling in her stomach, Kurapika peered over the edge of the hole.

The Count stood at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the inferno at the distance. If he knew that the spot he was standing on was the exact same spot that Kuroro Lucifer had stood on before he infiltrated Hiera Sedes to rescue Lucian, the Count didn't show any response. Strands of his hair whipped around with the violent wind, although it was anyone's guess why he still looked dramatically regal even with the absence of his inky velvety black cape.

He watched with satisfaction as the citadel of the Order burned down and his familiar levelled it down. Zirnitra; the black dragon god of sorcery. He was a familiar handed down generation to generation to the Count of Wallachia. At some point in the future, Lucian would inherit the black dragon. Only when he was ready.

But knowing the boy, that would probably not happen for another ten centuries.

So the Count watched in wicked silence as the building collapsed onto itself, into a heap of flames and melting rocks. He had given Zirnitra explicit order to contain its black flames to make sure that it didn't spread to the city and destroy everything. He wanted to bring down the Order, yes, but he had no wish to destroy innocent humans who knew nothing about the proverbial skeletons in the Order's closet.

The rustles of the bushes on the outskirts of the forest behind him didn't startle him at all. He had sensed the approach long before the silent footsteps fell within his phenomenal earshot. Therefore, he had simply been waiting until the approaching person—or creature, who knows—revealed itself. The Count turned around, and was greeted with a sight that took his breath away.

Silky black hair. Billowy black fabric. Ancient bisento. Deep, abysmal black eyes.

"Lady Ishtar…" He whispered in his surprise.

One blink, and the image was gone. The image of the Lady Ishtar; of her standing regally with her beloved bisento in hand, was replaced by a small boy who bore uncanny resemblance to the deceased Lady of Ryuusei-gai. He even wielded the same weapon; The Count would recognise that bisento anywhere.

This boy's appearance was nothing as immaculate as the one he remembered of the late Lady Ishtar. His hair was a messy mane, and his clothing had seen better days. There were dirt and dried blood all over his face, and he smelled of smoke and poison. Had been poisoned and recovering from it, it seemed.

Close enough.

The Count shifted his eyes slightly and spotted the black unicorn standing behind the boy like a bodyguard. Obviously it was the black unicorn that had made that remark.

"Pardon?" He inquired politely. He might be THE Count, but that didn't mean he couldn't be polite.

You said Lady Ishtar when you saw this runt. That's close enough. Lady was brat's grandmama. The black unicorn; whom the Count correctly assumed to be the infamous renegade unicorn called Bara, said while gesturing at the small boy standing by his hooves.

"Ah. Kuroro Lucifer's offspring then." Now that he paid closer attention, indeed the boy resembled Kuroro Lucifer more than the Lady Ishtar in appearance. The aura that he exuded, however, was another entirely different case. "Why are you here, child?"

"My name is Noah." He bowed his head politely. "I am pleased to finally meet you in person, Lord Count of Wallachia."

The Count raised an eyebrow delicately.

"Oh?"

And with that one word, Noah understood the question behind it.

"Lucian showed me and my siblings a picture of you."

"How curious." Indeed it was, and the Count couldn't help feeling pleased that his fledgling deemed him important enough to introduce to his godchildren. "And what did he say of me?"

"He told us to be polite to you and," Noah gave him a sheepish smile, "when my eldest brother is not around, to beg you not to introduce the Solomonarii Witches to him."

The Count blinked slowly, eyes staring at the boy bemusedly. The boy himself had that expression that practically said 'my eldest brother is crazy and you should really trust Lucian's words on this one'.

I assure you, you don't want to introduce the little devil to your Solomonarii. The end of the world will be coming sooner when they meet. Bara said with a tone that the Count wasn't exactly sure to treat as serious or jesting.

"I will keep that in mind." The Count said with a small amused smile, and turned to regard the little boy again. "So why are you here, child? Without your parents' consent, no less." At Noah's slightly widening eyes, he elaborated: "With your bedraggled appearance, one would assume that you have left in a hurry, fresh from a battle, without asking leave from your parents."

Bara made an appreciative whistle. Sharp, aint'cha.

"I am The Count." The man said dryly.

Fair enough. Bara shrugged—or a horse's equivalent to a shrug.

The Count looked at Noah in the eyes, and the boy's eyes met his cold grey eyes head-on. He liked it.

"I came here to demand retribution." The boy declared firmly, and his eyes fell to the burning inferno behind The Count. "But…"

"I believe it is within my right to demand retribution as well." The Count said, tone far from being threatening. If anything, he seemed amused more than anything. "And have you come earlier, I would have invited you to the party."

At The Count's admission and indirect approval, Noah gave him a humble nod of gratitude and appreciation.

Hafta say it's a job well-done, though. You've got taste. Bara whistled appreciatively as he watched the raging inferno that was consuming the Citadel. And some awesome familiar you've got there. Zirnitra, black dragon god of sorcery, eh? Fancy stuff there.

The Count made a non-committal hum as he turned around to gaze at Zirnitra's black flame as it consumed the falling debris that would have crushed the ignorant humans screaming and running about like frightened rabbits.

I find it curious that you ain't obliterating the entire city without leaving a single survivor, though. I've heard all manners of mighty and terrible things about you, Count of Wallachia, but being soft ain't none of those. Your fledgling rubbing off on ya?

The Count simply spared Bara a fleeting cool gaze, before he turned around to observe the scurrying humans in Hiera Sedes.

"There is no sense in murdering civilians just because they are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Our target is the Order."

And those pitiful humans living under the Order's protection an' serving 'em ain't part of 'em?

"Bara." Noah said disapprovingly with a glare at the black unicorn.

Okay, okay. Was just teasing him. Geez, calm your ass down, ya cheerful little thing. Bara snorted, but didn't make any smartass remarks.

They remained where they were for a little while, three sets of eyes gazing at the burning citadel in the distance. At the climax of the destruction, Zirnitra rose from the burning remains of the citadel in its fiery and thunderous glory, before it flew across the dark sky and headed straight towards the cliff where the Count was standing. Bara took a step forward, standing by Noah's side protectively. The dark mass of Zirnitra swirled and pulsated as it hovered around the Count, before it condensed and wrapped itself around the Count like a cloak. As the Count's velvety inky black cloak.

"It is done." The Count declared as he caressed his cloak with long spindly fingers.

Noah was staring at The Count's cloak with obvious interest and admiration, but at length he broke his appraising gaze and bowed respectfully at The Count.

"Lord Count," Noah said politely, "I shall take my leave. You have another guest waiting for a private audience with you. Once again, you have my thanks."

Noah had just turned around when the Count spoke again. His voice was soft and unthreatening, but Noah couldn't help the chill he felt when those words reached his ears.

"Your behaviour is uncanny for a child. How old are you exactly, Noah?"

It didn't escape Bara that The Count had deliberately addressed Noah with his name instead of the usual 'child', therefore nullifying any assumption on Noah's real age regardless of the apparent physical age. Bara silently shifted his eyes from The Count to Noah, gauging their reaction and anticipating Noah's answer.

Instead of an answer, Noah instead turned to give The Count an enigmatic smile. The Count raised an eyebrow; that was the exact same smile that Lady Ishtar had given him when in one occasion he had made an enquiry about her age. The resemblance was so disturbingly uncanny. Before The Count could make any further comment, however, the boy had flown away in his black steed, disappearing into the dark night sky.

The Count stared for a while at the spot in the dark sky where the boy and his black steed had disappeared into, before he averted his gaze and filed away his observation on the boy's strangeness for later date.

"You have another guest waiting for a private audience with you."

Because indeed, he had another guest waiting.

"Will you not reveal yourself?" He asked the darkness, to nobody in particular.

Several timid footsteps answered his question, and he turned around to face the owner of those soft footsteps.

She was as beautiful as he remembered her. Her hair as lustrous and her gait as graceful. When she saw that he had seen her, she bowed deeply; kneeling on the ground with her skirt flaring around her and eyes humbly down. She bowed as a court lady would bow to her liege.

"Domnul meu (My Lord)." She greeted with soft voice, deep with affection and longing.

And yet, he could see how she clenched her tiny fists tightly, so he wouldn't see them trembling. But her garment was soft and light, they fluttered at the slightest breeze. He could see how the fabric trembled oh so slightly, that only his inhuman eyes could perceive such minute detail.

Wordlessly, the Count crossed the distance between them and in no time he was standing right before her. He gazed down at her, observing her small form. It was wrong to see her to submissive and humble, so he lowered himself to her level. He knelt before her, knees on the dirt, and he enveloped her in his arms, his cloak spreading around her like a protective fort. He kissed the crown of her hair, whispering soft words reserved only for her. She was so small in his arms; smaller than he had ever remembered.

"It must have been so hard on you, iubită(beloved)." He whispered to her, tender and aching.

She told herself that she wouldn't cry. That she would stand strong and present herself as his humble servant, who was simply reporting to him for the lifetime mission assigned to her. But with him here; in flesh and bone, not a splice of his Nen and with his arms around herself, her resolve crumbled like shattered glass and she sank into his arms.

"Eu sunt a ta, iubitul meu (I am yours, my beloved)." She sobbed shakily into his chest.

The Count said nothing any further. Instead, his cloak came to life and spread itself around them like a cocoon. The black cocoon was then swallowed by darkness, and it was no more.

Author's Note: So! Should I make restore Lucian's handsomeness entirely, or should I keep the disfigurement on him? Please let me know, readers! Your opinions are greatly valued and appreciated! And of course, tell me what you think of this chapter ^^