A warm atmosphere returned to the house as the sconces flickered back on, almost as if Testament's evil presence was the sole reason Polnareff and Gaelstrom were flung into darkness. And with that evil eradicated, that same restful mood had been restored. The two-story house in Tal Hoffnung was once again just as welcoming - just as comfortable - as it had always been. But neither Polnareff nor Gaelstrom would be there to bask in its ambience. Only one person remained standing after that fight, the hilt of the sword still gripped tightly in their hands.
Andrej's body was all but gone, leaving no more than a dark memory to linger amidst the shadows and hitch a ride from time to time on the shoulder of the woman that would find herself lost in solitude. Eva would always remember that fateful night she had taken up the sword and avenged her little brother. She'd remember the actions of those two mysterious men and their tortoise having wandered into their home to seek refuge, and unbeknownst to them, helped her in ways she never imagined.
The sword clanged against the wooden floor, falling away from uncontrollably trembling hands. Though, she had avenged Tobias, there was nothing to gain from that fight. Marlin was gone. And as soon as he'd arrived, Gaelstrom Callaghan was no more. And that man in the tortoise...the way he appeared to be shouting something at Andrej...there could be no denying now she knew what he'd done. To think that even a revenant bore so much nobility that they would willingly die twice to protect someone.
I didn't even know him...it was me that monster wanted to kill. It should have been me. Guilt brought her to her knees, her teary eyes glued to the floor in front of her. It's my fault.
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A low groan came from the other end of the room. "Boy am I knackered..." Gaelstrom Callaghan climbed to his feet, pinching the bridge of his nose. He cursed his dizziness and how queasy it was starting to make him feel. Opening his eyes, he blinked a few times to chase away the fuzziness of his vision; that's when he spotted Eva weeping on her knees.
"Feel like I should know what's goin' on, but I don't...?" He scooped up his trousers and shirt off the floor, brushing dust off of them. He figured that room was dusty before, but this was just ridiculous.
"Wait, why am I naked..." Gaelstrom looked down at his toes and trailed his vision up to his navel. Unfocusing his gaze, he lifted his head digging into every crevice of his memory bank to piece together a fitting enough explanation. So far, he found nothing remotely sensible. One thing Gaelstrom recalled was Testament absorbing his life energy, but everything betwixt eluded him. A shriek startled him as he leaned down to pick up his socks and dress shoes.
"Whoa!" Gaelstrom exclaimed, scrambling to cover himself with his khaki brown pants. A mortified Eva threw a hand over her eyes and spun around to face the wall behind her.
"It's okay, it's okay!" he tried to assure her with his arm extended. "It's okay, look, don't cry. I'm gettin' my trousers on, see? Look. Shite, don't look. D'oh!" Gaelstrom brought his suspenders over his shoulders, snapping them to his collarbones for good measure. "Alright, I'm dressed. Nightmare's over."
He made a gesture with his arms outward, cracking a lopsided smile. "See?" Hushed sobs convinced him that his cheeky attempt at bringing light to the situation was fruitless. Gaelstrom's fingers curled back loosely, his upturned lip drooping as he came to understand that she wasn't the least bit worried about him. Frowning, he rubbed the back of his neck with a hand on his hip.
"Well...didn't think I was that ugly."
Gaelstrom's hand moved away from his neck. An iridescent shine brighter than the warm glow of the sconces stole his gaze away from Eva. Unnerved by its presence, he slipped into a wary stance. "What the hell...hold on." There was one faint recollection that he managed to conjure. One detail that stood out amidst the rest.
...the weirdest part was that after cutting himself this light just poured out of it like someone threw a flash grenade in here...I killed a spider around the equipment. After that guy died, well, there it was creepy crawling like it never happened at all.
Are you trying to tell me that this sword brought a spider back to life?
"...brought a spider back to life..." Gaelstrom mused as he knelt onto one knee. "...Fackin' hell, did I die? Alright, Gaelstrom, think. I remember that I'm supposed to be studying up on this thing. Now, I know Jean and I came here to get out of that storm...what else...shite, where's Mr. Ambrose? Where's Jean? Holy shit, where's Jean!? Jean!"
Gaelstrom scanned the room, checking under the chair and bed. No sign of him. He sat in the floor, leaning his elbows on his knees as he brushed his fingers through his hair. "What the hell happened here? If I died, then...! No!" He leaned down to look under the bed. "Jean, answer me! Oh, Christ. Oh, Christ. Shit!"
He shot up from a squatting position and scoured the room, his breath becoming much more spastic. "Jean..." Gaelstrom sat in the middle of the room on his knees, defeated. There was no other explanation for what could have happened other than Testament killed Coco Jumbo not long after his death. With quaking breaths, Gaelstrom pressed his palms against the floor, slowly bringing his head down. Slamming his fist, he wept.
"I'm so stupid!" he cried. "I should've just came alone and left you in Italy. None of this would have happened if I'd...if I'd...!" He could feel his throat closing up on him, talking through his labored cries did little to help it. "I was selfish." he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I was so worried about myself that I forgot about the risks I was putting you through. Please, god...don't let it be like this."
The room fell silent, save for Eva's weeping. Gaelstrom failed to look up and take note of what else he was hearing; a sort of light, slow padding sound that drew nearer to him as he kept his forehead leaned against the floor. Tilting his head up, his face went white as a sheet. Coco Jumbo dragged by still in one piece. A weight lifted off of Gaelstrom's chest, watching in addled surprise as the tortoise kept going. Should he think to look inside of the stand on its shell? What if he'd learn something he didn't want to, though? Gaelstrom reluctantly sat there, hoping for something. A moment passed and he came to accept that perhaps the sword freed Polnareff's spirit from Mr. President. It could have had that effect on ghosts, he didn't know.
Striking fear in his heart as he went to turn his gaze, something unexpected reached out of the key and grabbed ahold of his arm.
The hand was undoubtedly tangible and that of a living person. "What the fuck!" he cried. Eva was turning around, wiping tears from her eyes when she took notice of the arm coming out of Coco Jumbo's back. Her breath shuddered. With both of her hands touching her face, she let out an ear-piercing scream. Was it really him? Were his prayers answered?
"Jean, is that you? Holy mother of god, I'll get you out of there. Hold on!" Gaelstrom took his hand and climbed to his feet. Whoever's hand it was, reciprocated and clasped their hand around his wrist. Just as he began to pull, the bedroom door burst open and standing in the doorway wearing his stitched coat was Marlin. His eyes found the sword then Coco Jumbo with a human arm extending from his shell.
"What in God's name is going on in here!?" he cried.
"There's no time for questions, Mr. Ambrose, help me!"
Rushing over without a second thought, Marlin took ahold of the arm and helped Gaelstrom pull whoever it was out of the stand. Another hand appeared, the elbow and forearm resting on the floor. Wavy, silver hair emerged from the key, chasing all doubt about his identity from Gaelstrom's mind. With one final pull, the rest of his body slid out of the key. Coco Jumbo passed by unfazed by their efforts to save him, leaving them to take care of it.
Brushing silver strands out of his face, Gaelstrom's palm glided across his cheekbone and triggered the many fond memories of when they were young. He'd taken every chance he got to make skin contact, be it by holding his hand or gently leaning into him. And though, his gestures were never returned, Gaelstrom stayed by his side. Polnareff may have hated him - he may have wanted him dead at one point in time - in his heart he knew this. But that alone couldn't hope to alter the shape of his loyalty for him.
Mr. Ambrose covered his bare body in Gaelstrom's trenchcoat as he knelt beside them. "I don't understand," he said, picking up the sword, "how is it that Evanescence summoned a man from the body of a tortoise?"
"Evanescence? Is that what it's called?" Gaelstrom asked.
"Yes. But what I would like to know is how it resurrected a man who was never here." He gestured to Polnareff.
Gaelstrom looked down at him, regarding that Polnareff was as alive as he remembered him to be. The idea of him being a spectre felt as though it were no more than a nightmare, and they'd finally awakened together. "Because," Gaelstrom told him, "he never left."
Consciousness wavered; though Polnareff's eyes opened, the darkness swallowed his vision and all he knew was that he felt separate from his body and yet, somehow, still felt everything happening to him. The sound of men talking to one another seemed distant, yet clear. Perceiving an Irish lilt left no doubt in his mind he knew the person who had him in their embrace.
"Gaelstrom …?"
"Jean, you're okay!"
"...did we win...?"
Stroking his cheek with his thumb, Gaelstrom couldn't suppress his smile. "You're damn right we did." And then, it happened. That nauseating lump in Polnareff's abdomen pushed into his throat.
Bleghhh!
"Gee, thanks." Gaelstrom slung vomit off of his hand.
"You're welcome..." his airy voice spoke as his eyes closed and he slumped over.
"Hey. Hey! Jean, look at me." He lightly patted his face.
Polnareff's lids weighed over his eyes, barely allowing him to open them. "Why's papa walking like that?" He leaned his head into Gaelstrom's chest, poorly warbling and mispronouncing the lyrics to a song. "Earring saws a story..."
Gaelstrom clapped a hand to his head. "Oh, fackin' hell, he's delirious."
"Eva..." Marlin spoke softly to her, grunting in pain as he knelt beside her. Damn knees weren't as young as he foolishly thought them to be. His cane clacked against the floor and he gently tilted her chin up. Teary, purple eyes looked up at that same familiar smile, laugh lines and all. It's me. he signed to her with a smile.
Reluctantly reaching up to his face, Eva studied how real he truly was. Marlin made the gesture to her for father. With her thumb touching her forehead and the other fingers straight in the air, she signed father back to him, a smile piercing through the fear and sadness. It was him. Eva wrapped her arms around him and cried.
"It's going to be alright," Marlin said, hugging her, "it's over." He looked back at Gaelstrom, who had his cheek leaned against Polnareff's head. Eva helped Marlin to his feet, his hands pressing against his cane to help him stand.
"Master Callaghan." he said. Gaelstrom lifted his head, giving him his attention. "How did you come across the sword?" There was a sadness he couldn't quite understand present in Marlin's eyes. Feeling he should be transparent, Gaelstrom answered him.
"My father works for an organization that dug it up in Slovakia. He's too infirm to be going abroad, so I took it, thinking I could study it for him."
Marlin inhaled through his nostrils. "Fate," he said, "I had a vision about exactly this."
"What?"
"It seems I can trust you. Before I can explain any further, we need to take care of your friend. His fever will be setting in soon."
"What fever? How could you possibly know that?"
Marlin sighed. "Because Evanescence once belonged to me. I'm aware of its capabilities when it comes to matters of the deceased reborn. Depending on how long he's been dead, readjusting to his body could take months, maybe years. No matter, Eva and I will help you."
Voices fleeted from Polnareff and his fight to remain conscious more so. That same out-of-body experience allowed him to feel Gaelstrom lift him up and walk with him. Where were they going? Probably didn't matter. The feeling of detachment to his physical self lingered until the group traversed up the dim halls.
"You're gonna be okay." he faintly heard Gaelstrom tell him, but he wasn't sure that was real. The warmth of Gaelstrom's embrace fled and he found himself drifting deeply into a series of dark and foreboding dreams.
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Ominous, dark clouds drifted slowly in an ochre sky, formed in clusters to imply a storm was coming. To where the storm would be hitting was the question: for, there was no ground. A child of eight years stood there perplexed by his young appearance, watching the clouds under his bare feet. Ripples ebbed beneath them, but there was no water; no sun. Only an endless, pale-yellow sky.
"I don't have legs, though." he spoke in a youthful voice. Gray clouds drifted just in front of him and he narrowed his eyes, discerning the silhouette of another person behind them. Presumably, there was a man in armor standing not too far off. As the cloud's parted ways, his true appearance came into view: warm, blue eyes and shoulder-length, golden hair. His smile was none the more welcoming as he regarded the young Polnareff.
"Carry on, my wayward son." he told him.
"Huh?! Alright, who are you?"
As quickly as he'd appeared, another cloud drifted past and he was gone. Polnareff took a step back, forming a waterless ripple under his foot. "Wha...? What the hell?"
Another silhouette strolled out from the haze, this time it was a feminine figure. Dark, bouncy curls accentuated porcelain skin as she came forward with an umbrella in her hand.
"Sherry!"
He started to run up to her, overcome with ecstasy. She was really there, and he didn't care how. "I missed you so much!" he cried. "I'm so sorry! We can be together now. I know I don't have a body anymore, but we can make things work, right?" Tears streamed down his face. Knowing that it couldn't be one of Judgment's tricks made it all the more believable until Sherry said something that made his heart sink into his stomach.
"Carry on, my wayward son."
"What?! It's me! Your brother! Don't you recognize me?" He took a moment to think, knowing in his gut it wasn't what it seemed but chose to follow the path of denial. "Oh, I get it. You and dad are playing a prank on me. You are playing a prank, aren't you?"
Appearing beside Sherry was another person, someone he'd never met before a day in his life. He was a few inches taller than her and middle-aged. It was like he came straight out of the Dark Ages. "Carry on, my wayward son." he said.
Another man stepped out of the haze carrying the same features as someone from that era. "Carry on, my wayward son."
Then another. And another.
"What...?" The flame of hope grew smaller within him as more and more people came out of the darkened clouds, repeating the same phrase; one after another. Until someone else that Polnareff loved walked out of the crowd of strange people and stood mere feet away from him as Sherry did. Bright blue eyes looked back at him as he was unable to form a sentence. The same pearl bracelet she wore everyday, the same gentle smile. Her hands brought together in front of her separated as if to welcome him.
"Don't..." he wept. "...please don't say it. I can't lose you again, too! Maman, please don't say what they're saying, anything but that!"
She reached out to him, inviting him to come over and give her a hug. Hope's flame burned just a little brighter as he made his way into her arms. He didn't care about the strangers repeating the same things anymore. He had his mother and sister again. Like he had done as a small child, he pulled off her pink pearl bracelet and nestled into her embrace.
He rolled them around to feel their gritty texture, not being able to shake the sense that there was something significant about them. I just can't understand why he's so attached to them; 'twas the remark he remembered hearing her make once.
"Maman, will you sing that song you used to sing to me?" He waited eagerly to hear her lilty voice. Appearing from behind a dark cloud, came a metal clanging sound likened to a knight's leg armor when they walked. Towering over his mother was a familiar face with white, slicked-back hair. Polnareff's eyes widened.
"Papa?"
"Carry on, my wayward son." came his mother's voice.
"No!" Polnareff cried. "You're not supposed to say that! You're supposed to sing to me. Please!"
The circle of faces faded away into the gray clouds that drifted past him, including Sherry. He cried, reaching desperately for her. As his mother began to fade, her fingers slipped away from his grasp. "No, maman, don't leave me again!" The cloud swallowed her and Polnareff searched through it, finding no trace of her or his sister.
"Noooo! They were right here!"
There was one person the clouds failed to take from him and that was Jean-Luc Polnareff, his father. His metal leg clanged as he came nearer. A seething hatred boiled in the pit of Polnareff's stomach by the mere sight of him. How could he still be there? Why was he of all people so special? He balled his fists and spun around, shouting at him.
"I hate you! Maman's dead because of you, it's your fault, you hear me!?" He stopped shouting long enough to catch his breath. Jean-Luc's facial expression remained tired, unfazed by his hateful words. "I'll never forgive you."
Jean-Luc placed a hand on his shoulder, surprising him. Polnareff feared the worst as he looked him in the eye. His father's gray eyes looked back without judgment and what he said etched itself somewhere within the walls of Polnareff's heart: "I know. It's alright."
Polnareff's vision swam into black. Jean-Luc was gone, the clouds, the sky; all gone. "Why," his airy voice trembled, nearly weeping, "why is this happening to me?"