Standing on the lands of the people that had taken her in as one of their own, Wendy felt...connected. Empowered in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. The air had changed, the ethernano was being drawn away from them. Just like in Edolas. Fae's warning had been life saving. Slayer Magics could survive on their element alone in a pinch.
But strangely enough, without the ethernano dominating her senses...Wendy felt something else stirring around her.
We missed you Wendy.
Welcome back, child.
In some places, ever since she had remembered the more powerful spells Grandeeny had taught her so long ago, Wendy heard voices. The same voices Fae could hear when she reached into the past.
She heard the dead.
And here, standing on Nirvit holy ground, she heard them all the more strongly than before.
"Power of Stout Arms to tear the Heavens: Arms!"
An enchantment to increase attack power for Sherria as she sent another Sky God's Dance at the two men that were coming at her with a pair of jagged axes and shields. All the equipment was magical. She could see the blades of black wind that were Sherria's magic shattering against glittering silver domes that almost encased them. She took another deep breath of the air around her to replenish her stocks in case she needed to move and heal someone.
"Oh racing wind that soars through the heavens: Vernier!"
Lyon's speed was boosted allowing him to cast his Icy creations more effectively. His ice eagles were driving the enemy away from circling around the icy wall that was protecting the closest hostages. He was also crafting the second of a pair of large yeti like creatures that was using the box they had brought to put chains on the men that the eagles had dispatched.
Wendy, we're here.
The Sky Dragon Slayer shook off the whispers, she needed to focus.
Oris was doing his best to kill Fae, clearly having been pushed past his current limits of sanity. He was using a staff that looked...familiar.
It took her a moment, but Wendy remembered where she had seen it before. Mystogan had used a staff just like it. An Edolas device and magical dead zone in the heart of Nirvit territory... A vicious blow whistled just over Fae's head as she ducked and rolled to the side to avoid him and one of his lackeys approaching from the side. She wanted to send a defensive enchantment to her. But she couldn't get a clear line of sight and might end up catching Fae's opponents instead of the Rune Wizard. And the voices of those who had passed on still whispered in the back of her mind...
Wendy, don't let blood be shed here. This one place...
The only place that had not been tainted by war in all of Nirvit's history.
She could smell the fear of the hostages. Their captors were getting confused and diverted by the illusion aspects that Fae had woven into her swift protection. But they were still chained, still hindered from escaping as combat raged close by. The rune wizard herself was managing to evade the attacking madman, and the two lackeys that had come to assist him.
Lyon was wielding a hammer of ice to keep their flank clear alongside his ice creatures. Sherria was keeping him from getting surrounded, always pulling in more power from the air. But she couldn't do that for very long. It was one of the benefits that Dragon Slayer magic had over God Slayer magic. Fae had put the God Slayers as... 'glass cannons'. They did not possess innate Dragon Scales to up their physical defenses, or the same ability to recharge so effortlessly. Instead, they could output greater amounts of power much faster. Wendy could not heal herself like Sherria could, but she could draw on her element for much longer with no drawbacks. She would slow down much sooner and not be able to recharge for as long.
We are ready, child. Call on us.
She tried not to address the voices she heard. It was a way of getting caught up in the past and was a little concerning to be speaking to dead people. Necromancy had enough of a reputation that no one wanted to be known to do anything even remotely close to it.
No...! You died long ago. I saw you leave. You're at peace!
The voice was persistent and growing steadily louder...
We were because of you. And now we are not. Because of him.
An edge of anger entered the voice. She heard the tremble that Marta's voice took on whenever she was angry. The harsh, sharp quality of how Samiel sounded at his most furious. A dozen other voices, all distinct. All the people she had known and grown up with. Then their voices unified, focused and intent.
He claims heritage that is not his. He cites our fallen days as our greatest triumphs. He perverts every piece of good that he touches that is of the Nirvit. We are not at peace as long as he trespasses on our land!
Within those words, she could hear every person she had grown up with. That she had known. Shades that Roabal had conjured to keep one little girl from being lonely. They spoke in eerie unison. Wendy shook her head, feeling the light veil covering her face flutter erratically as she started to lose her rhythm.
She recast the Arms spell on Sherria, it was already fading fast, steadfastly ignoring the murmurs of her long gone loved ones.
I can't...! It's necromancy to call on you for this, even if you are willing! I can't do that!
Then she heard a voice she would never forget as long as she lived...
Hear the voices of the dragons spirits that lead to the river of heaven.
Grandeeny had taught her that spell. A way to allow her to call on other dragon's spirits for their wisdom even if they were no longer present. Or rather what she had said...
"Many dragons will consider you kin, dear heart. And I want you to know that your family stands with you. Always."
Milky Way was not meant for dragon's spirits. It was meant for family.
The colored threads that bound her hair in a short symbolic braid seemed to weigh much more as Wendy regarded them for a second...
Call us Wendy. Let us stand beside you again.
She threw out her hands, winds spiraling from her fingers, twisted into claw like shapes and slashing down in precise motions. Tiny blades of wind scored lines into the ground in an intricate pattern, cutting deep and deliberate. She had only a few seconds before hostages started to die. And Milky Way needed a physically drawn magic circle in order to be cast correctly. But some modifications were needed. She would be asking for more than knowledge of those she was summoning.
"Oh wandering Spirits of Nirvit's long past! Reveal yourselves, defend our sacred ground and the lives of the innocent: Milky Way!"
-vVv-
When I heard Wendy's cry, the knot of worry within me loosened and I barely managed to avoid the latest bolt of slow lighting that Oris was hurling at me. The majority of it at least. They were not quite AOE spells, but they certainly weren't as precise as other elements.
I knew the staff he was using, of course. Sacred Lightning, an Edolas weapon to go with his Harvester. Capable of firing bolts of lightning, as Oris was doing, or, in the hands of an expert, controlling and redirecting it in whatever way he pleased. Oris was not an expert, thankfully. But the weapon was still dangerous.
And of course he wasn't alone either. The armor that his thugs were wearing was giving me all kinds of problems, as was their insistence on getting up close and personal. The hissed spells under my breath quickly had their strength stolen by the Harvester, though they kept me from getting turned into ground beef, orange runes flaring and catching blows as they fell before sputtering out.
I couldn't take a breath unmolested, let alone open my book and pull out a totem or suss out the vulnerability in the spells enchanting their armor. I had come prepared with Link, Naruto and Ezio Auditore totems as options for this fight. But I had been counting on more time to get inside information and determine the best course of action.
That was my biggest problem.
Time.
Everything I could do well relied on having enough time to formulate a plan, or create an item to answer it. My stop gap measure of the Harry Potter spells wasn't cutting it, they were too weak with the draining effects of the Harvester being so close by. At some point in the fantastical scenario Oris had concocted, there would have been time to open a book and the chest in preparation for the ceremony and pull out a totem.
I'll have to do something to improve my set up time so this doesn't happen again.
I had to throw out a burst of magic to avoid getting gored by a spear blade on one side and losing a hand on the other to an axe blow. The puff of energy was quickly sucked away by the Harvester.
Safe magic levels at 60% and dropping quickly.
I was the closest to the epicenter so it was draining me more quickly. I would lose magic even more quickly with every enchantment not anchored to an item, but this would keep me alive and in one piece. I managed to slide my fingers into the back cover of my spellbook, one of the basic enchantments. Minor, from the fluidity of the story, but life saving.
"Story Attunement: Rough 'n' Tumble!"
The story from Dragon Quest appealed to me. Multifaceted, many opportunities to grow in a variety of different directions depending on your whim and will. And the main character's starting class, Minstral, had a special ability, that typically only triggered when the user was weakened somewhat, that could save my life.
Evasion capability increases by a lot. Counterattack success rate increases by a lot. Safe magic levels at 50%.
I managed to flow out of the way of the third man's axe strike, chopping on his arm and managing to land the blow in a gap in his armor, shaking his grip.
This wasn't ideal. The enchantment would be more vulnerable than my personal magic stores, meaning I had maybe 2 minutes of safe magic use before I needed to cut it off or risk a Magic Deficiency triggered seizure.
Seven hostages are injured. The man at risk for heart failure has entered the early stages of a heart attack. Back up has arrived.
Vague shapes or people whipped past us. Cool, distinctly unearthly presences, but not frigid and hostile. There weren't Nirvit warriors painted for battle. They were people I recognized. It was Cait Shelter. Hale, whole and healthy. Cleansed from the memories of their death. As complete as Wendy remembered them. And for just a few minutes, they were just as alive.
They caught weapons in bare hands as Oris's remaining men managed to get around Lyon and Sherria to attack the prone hostages. I felt Spirit Magic feed into the minor protection I had cast over them and turn it from deflection to true stopping power. They couldn't hurt them. Not their former captives or the summoned spirits.
As long as no one is killed, the Nirvits will be able to shield the hostages from harm. No fatalities. No disintegrations.
OK, great! Now tell that to him!
Oris was getting distracted, but still very much trying to kill me.
I barely dodged another bolt of lightning, feeling aftershocks prickle painfully through my arm and left side. The lightning splashed harmlessly against the armor of one of his henchmen. His movements were quick from practice, but he telegraphed everything that he did. He had only gotten lucky twice. I would have one heck of a bruise on my arm later. It was take the hit or get sliced open by the other two lackeys that were trying to pin me down. It was like the smallest gesture of his hands on the staff screamed his intentions. I had seen Sacred Lighting in use before. With Mystogan. And this was almost embarrassingly inept...
I evaded a third bolt and I was starting to get annoyed with the clumsy handling of the Edolan weapon as he tried to bash at me once again. With the casting focus, not the weighted butt of the staff. Even with my Attunement upping my evasion, anyone with any degree of competence in using staves would be able to hit me. Especially if I was outnumbered four to one!
"Are you serious? That is an Edolan Sacred Lightning! I refuse to die by the hands of someone who can't tell the business end from the butt!"
It was actually a little embarrassing that he had evaded my searching for so long and yet he was this unrefined in actual combat. The drawbacks of being an ambush tactician. He was just as off balance as I was without time to set his stage. I hadn't been as prepared as I might have liked. But just by being even a little prepared, it had thrown him off.
This was going to come down to who could adapt best on the fly.
He tried to hit me with the focus again.
I almost wanted to pull a Kinana and spit acid at him in outrage. He was taking a beautiful, well made magic item that could last a lifetime, and using it like a club!
Not everyone can use staves as well as Mystogan, but still-
You could.
I managed to trip one man into the course of the contracting circle of lightning, using him as a stepping stone to jump clear without taking the brunt of the spell. His armor was insulated, he'd recover in short order. Getting kicked in the head...might take a little longer.
What do you mean?
Morgana's words were mild and said without pomp or preamble. Understated, as most of her input was.
Mystogan Totem ready for activation.
I would kick myself for not thinking of it sooner.
Stories impacted us by how personal they were. How much they related to us.
My friends had changed my life in so many ways. So why couldn't I use the parts of their stories that had interacted with mine to fuel new spells related to the things they did? One that used the lacrima within me as a focus to access those perfectly preserved and stored memories?
I had never once tried to call on their strengths, and they were surely the stories I knew best in the world. The ones that meant the most to me...
But I would berate myself for not seeing that later.
Right now, I just wound one hand into my cloak, Mystogan's cloak. One of the few remaining physical reminders of him that I had. There was no lacrima on the item itself. And I don't think I needed one. I felt my vision lighten as my eyes blazed with a surge of power.
Unlike the times I borrowed stories and power from Morgana's memories of another life, this was closer. More personal.
This was someone who was part of me.
The vague attunement melted away as a stronger enchantment took its place.
"Story Magic: Mystogan of Fairy Tail."
After that, everything just...opened up.
Now instead of barely dodging, thanks to the luck enhancer of Rough N Tumble, I could see everything he was and wasn't doing. Borrowing the experience of a master at his craft.
His stance, his breathing, the way Oris handled his weapon, his grip on it. Mystogan knew the weapon, its strengths and weaknesses. He could identify the training, Edolan militia drills were rampant throughout my opponent's every move. Oris was an Edolas citizen, Morgana affirming the thought silently, but he had not been part of the standing army. Mystogan knew the barely visible gaps in his guard as my enemy wielded the magical item against me with all signs of being incredibly rusty in his Edolas militia training.
Edolas militia need to be ready to engage in close combat. The style does not mesh well with the fluidity needed to wield magic items to their fullest extent.
That! That I can use!
Had Oris been relying on his native training, I would never have been able to get the staff away from him. All Edolas weaponry was designed to be used in melee combat if its magic ran out. He was just casting with it and not using it to its fullest advantage. He had bastardized his own style by using a magic weapon without actually knowing how to maximize its effectiveness. I could see gaps in his guard, highlighted in my vision in amber. Mystogan would have known just how to twist the staff so that Oris couldn't keep hold of it.
And, as of half a minute ago, so did I.
I spun my newly acquired weapon, the weighted end cracking across Oris's face and sending him stumbling back a step. I moved with him, reaching out instinctively for his belt.
Every skill Mystogan had ever possessed seemed to be ingrained within me and felt easy and effortless. Much like when I had first used the Child Link totem, my movements were guided by the memories of the person whose story I was adopting. What he had known, I could recall as if I had experienced it first hand. And Mystogan knew exactly what the trigger of the Harvester looked like.
Dashing into close range while Oris was still distracted, I let Mystogan's knowledge guide me and snatched the small magical device off of Oris's belt. His gaze lowered to meet my own with such surprise, I almost felt bad for him.
Key word being 'almost'
But more dominant was a catty surge of triumph as I used the cylindrical control baton to turn off the Harvester. The hum of the device faded, and left only the sounds of magic casting.
Safe magic levels at 30%.
I heard one of Oris's men curse loudly behind me.
He knows.
You mean exactly how screwed he is now? I should bloody well think so.
Now, I could call spells more easily with the air being clear. The telepathic link was blessedly silent and not distracting. And I happen to know a lot of Electric based, one to two word stories that included a non-fatality failsafe built right into them.
I dropped the remote and spun the Sacred Lightning over my head, hand over hand.
"Discharge!"
Crackling bolts of ice blue electricity surrounded me, striking all three of the men I was facing.
Pokemon in just about every iteration, rarely involved death. The most their Moves did, no matter how damaging it should be, was knock the opponent out. Benefits of borrowing power from a G-rated story.
I could hear shouts ahead of 'ghost' and various other reactions as Wendy called on the Nirvit's that had adopted her to prevent blood from being shed on their sacred ground. They were standing between the men and the still prostrated hostages. And moving to make sure they stayed between them.
"Rune Knight armor is meant to negate the fatal blows. The more dangerous the attack, or the greater the potential for lasting harm, the greater the defensive response."
Hearing Mystogan's voice almost brought tears to my eyes. It had been so long since I had heard him. And for that moment, it was just like when he was teaching me. Our training trip during the Phantom Lord war.
If they are meant to protect against fatal damage, then as long as I take them out without actually 'hurting' them, it won't stop it.
The four armored men were convulsing with electricity as it actually affected them now. I took the staff up and jabbed the weighted tip meant for bashing and stabbing into Oris' chest with a little more force than was necessary and smiled as I said:
"Thunder Wave."
The intent translated into my staff and the sparks, now colored amber to reflect how I had altered the item's capabilities, raced down from the focus end to where it was touching the man. A small, buzzing sound filled the air as he tried to struggle.
Bov Oris is now paralyzed. He can't move.
Excellent. Let's finish this up.
"Electro Ball."
With the master neutralized, I then went bowling for minions. Or maybe using a peculiar flail was the best way to describe how I used it. A ball and tether of lightning attached to the casting end of the staff I held, and being controlled to tag all three of the men behind me at least twice. I was focusing on inflicting the exact effect that I wanted. Not damage, but freezing them where they stood...
All three of my opponents were left frozen in place, covered in tiny amber sparks.
The enemy is now paralyzed. They can't move.
I grounded the staff into the dirt, it was getting a little hot under my hand, but not too much.
He'd have blown it up if he kept trying to use it the way he was.
Kinana swooped down like the fiery flying serpent that she was and bathed the remaining men in sleeping gas. They were all shouting and terrified by the ghosts of the Nirvits, so they inhaled before realizing the trouble that they were in and were out within seconds.
Oris couldn't even speak as he watched his plans fall apart before his eyes. I don't think he could even blink, but the same force which held him paralyzed was making sure he would not be harmed permanently by keeping his eyes hydrated. Somehow.
Definitely something to study later.
"I'm quite sure you would be monologuing if you were capable of doing so: So I'm gonna steal that for myself. If I stayed quiet, the temptation to add some injuries you sustained while resisting arrest would be too tempting."
Now that I was no longer so pressed for time, the tangled, living mass of emotion I had been nursing for the last week had no place to go but anger. My prisoner's eyes flicked over to me and instead of hatred, or frustration as I would expect from a foiled villain, there was only fear in his gaze. No confidence, no arrogance. Nothing, just naked fear as his world view was shattered around him.
He was vulnerable now.
And I wanted payback. Payback Wendy couldn't take for herself.
"You did this." I told him, voice as cool and factual as I could make it. "Your delusions could have sustained you for years yet and I would never have known better. But you decided to try and get more. You tried to enslave my friend."
His gaze shied away from me, managing to move his eyes. Morgana quietly added that the paralysis of all men wouldn't last very long. Mere minutes.
So I've got to finish terrifying them so they don't try and keep fighting.
The staff was back in my hand, spinning. I stopped it barely an inch away from his face. His body twitched against the paralysis holding him captive, new sparks emitting from his body when he tried to move.
"You stalked her for years, and I never knew. You objectified her as a killing machine that would do everything for you. Be at your beck and call. And I never knew. And when I did, I would have been more than happy to just crash the party...but then you invited me."
I stepped in closer, grabbing his chin and manipulating his holding spell that he had to look me in the eye. There was nowhere else to look, just me.
"You had the audacity to invite me to sell off my friend to a sad, obsessed, sick pervert who started pining for a little girl...And you expected me to comply with everything. To view it as an honor even as you planned to end all of our lives."
He wanted to free Wendy from her human form. He was going to integrate the lacrima made from you and your companions into her form and turn her physically into a dragon.
How delusional can a guy get?
Knowing with your head that there were some sad, sick people in the world was one thing. But that knowing never seemed to account for the ways it impacted you in your personal life.
Morgana was carefully keeping quiet. I would notice it later and ask about it, but right now I was just indulging my anger and need for some payback.
"And you believe that...Even now, most of you believes that this is some sort of nightmare, and you'll wake up and everything will be right again."
And to you, what I was seeing...that was right. But you had to know. There has to be some part of you, deep down under everything that knew this was wrong.
Isn't there...?
I drew the staff back carefully, grounding it once again, it hadn't quite finished. I still was holding onto his chin, reading his history.
The Anima had remained open for years. Lisanna had been pulled through on accident when her alternate died. Mystogan passed through deliberately. Oris had literally had the pure, dumb luck to stumble through while he was drunk. And the absence of his counterpart, having died in his childhood, had let him pass through and remain with no issue or need to disguise himself or lay low. He had been confused, obviously, but he was a former engineer of magical tools and militia member. He had adapted. He had been looking for a way to go back to Edolas and gain recognition and honor for 'discovering' a land so rich in ethernano. A new land to conquer.
In his efforts to try and find a familiar civilization, he came across a mention of the Nirvit tribe. Their era of peace meant nothing to him, having been born and raised in a militarized culture. But the wars they fought among themselves? That was territory he knew and was confident in.
He craved recognition from those he perceived as his superiors. As Wendy was a Nirvit, she was someone he respected and admired. His perception of her as the last surviving Nirvit was coupled with her being a Dragon Slayer. Survivors were fearsome people, always. And given the recent history, he assumed that she was a survivor because she had killed all of her enemies. Someone with the power to kill dragons was surely a bloodthirsty and savage within. A perfect match for him. He remained a devoted worshipper from afar, eager for the day when Wendy would 'reveal her true self'. His ardor for her got him into trouble multiple times. Once, it even got him severely beaten. He had been vocal about his passionate feelings for the then thirteen year old Dragon Slayer and some people had interpreted it as sexual interest in a minor.
Some of which were ex-convicts with very strict views on what was a forgivable crime.
Wendy was working in the clinic he was taken to to try and keep him from dying due to massive trauma from the beating he got.
She did her job.
She saved his life.
After he was told who had worked on him, it clicked for his psychosis. The very person he so admired had saved him. His twisted mind created entire conversations that Wendy had had with him as he lay unconscious. That she had stayed by his side throughout his recovery, but was never there when he was awake to protect him from being targeted again. That she had told him what she wanted. And what she wanted 'coincidentally' aligned with what he wanted as well.
To rule over the most fearsome of creatures in the world and put all under his heel. To revive the Nirvit tribe as the conquerors that he saw them as, but united against the world rather than fighting amongst themselves. United. A single family.
Bov Oris, upon recovering from his injuries, vanished into the system. Lewin Trantos began to raid a few weeks later and build his reputation and bridal gifts for the fantasy he had concocted.
And somewhere deep down in there...was the firm belief that Dragon Slayers could become dragons. Not dragons like their parents, but the beings so drunk on their own power they never stopped fighting or indulging in it.
And trying to find that led to the same frustrating dead end that I saw in every dragon slayer's history. But this time there were words there.
Dragon Seed.
And somewhere in there was a horrifying echo of truth.
Wendy can or could actually change like that...under the right circumstances, he really could have turned her into that monster.
I had read parts of this as I cracked open his story on the way here in the last few hours. I found his name buried in the people that Wendy had treated, cross referenced for the seminars where Wendy had been outside of Fiore and thus, easy tracking range.
His whole story played out in my mind in no more time than it took to take a breath. I watched Oris's obsession lie dormant, then ignite, grow and finally shatter right in this moment.
He was reeling, falling down a slope of madness that I couldn't see the bottom of.
When he reached it, it would really hit him. But until then...he would probably just stay quiet. But he could still hear and process everything.
"My first memory of this life is of a summer day. Peaceful, happy, safe. That is the state I want to be in. Where I want everyone I care about to live."
My smile felt like cracking ice, the weight of my still present anger splintering it into sharp points.
"But if you try to control and enslave my friends, my family: Then you had best watch yourself, because I will find you."
The air around me was growing dark... Not with malice or evil but with a cold chill of winter promising it's arrival.
"You will not sleep, knowing I am looking for you. When I have you, I will take you apart, piece by piece. Everything you thought you knew. Every reason that you thought you were so right and that made it acceptable to hurt and kill others."
Oris looked almost like he was wetting himself, if his muscles could do anything other than hold perfectly still. Paralyzed twice over.
"Every lie you told to further your cause against my loved ones... I will pull it all down. Until you are left cold and alone, with nothing ahead of you but empty years and a quickly forgotten grave."
The words flowed naturally and with an edge of malice that didn't feel like it was mine. My grip tightened on his chin,as if he had the capability of looking away from me right now. His eyes were blown wide, I could feel his pulse roaring as his body tried to get away from me.
"So little man... have I kept my word?"
He could hurt Wendy. Even now. This knowledge, those two innocuous little words, were dangerous. A threat to my loved ones. To the Dragon Slayers personally. They wouldn't become dragons like their dragon parents. The connection was more brutal than that. Archaic cave paintings of people twisted and broken, growing scales, claws and wings. Growing in size and savagery until they were unrecognizable. All they did was hunt and kill until they were killed themselves.
Who would stop them? Who could stop them? They're there to fight dragons for us. Who fights them if they become dragons themselves?
I needed to know more. I needed to know where Oris got those words. Pictures were one thing but words were another. And...he couldn't be allowed to speak of this. Ever. No one could ever know that Dragon Slayers were at risk of becoming dragons somehow. Not until I had proof that it was a non-issue.
And if it wasn't already, I would make it so.
But all that I could read magically right now was that long, damned tunnel...
He cannot be allowed to speak of this. Ever.
It wasn't Oris that broke my focus, it was one of the men listening behind me. He gave a tiny sob of terror. I looked down at my hand, and saw a tiny magic circle on my palm. A spell that I had never fully conceptualized before now.
You hid your name to acquire power. But now I know your name. And I know your measure. You have gambled against me and lost. And your power, your life, your will, shall forever be mine, by the speaking of your true name, Bov Oris. Unseelie Arts: Rumplestiltskin's Rending.
I forced it to dissipate quickly, stomach churning.
It would be the truest revenge to turn the man who wanted to enslave Wendy into a minion as well. Put a leash on him like he had envisioned on her. That was what would balance the scales and teach him once and for all that what he was doing was wrong. And ensure that he could never let slip about this hint about how to turn Dragon Slayers into what they were meant to protect us from.
Fae...
I didn't even need to hear what Morgana was going to say. I already knew.
...No. I'll find another way to keep him quiet. Anything other than this.
I gathered up the cold, calculating, eloquent witch-me that had said all those things...And directed her back into her room to stay and reflect on her almost taken actions. She could stay back there and think about the last person who had wanted me to rewrite someone's head into compliance, to suit his whim. And who had very nearly factory reset my own identity.
I won't let you turn me into Brain.
It was two words, the odds were infinitesimally small that anyone else would hear anything but the ramblings of a madman. They wouldn't have Morgana and the right type of magic to confirm that Dragon Slayers could become monsters like Acnologia. The best thing to let knowledge like this die...was to not draw attention to it. Right now, all logic said that this information would be written off as the ramblings of a madman.
Straightening my back, I carefully picked up my new staff, winding my other hand into Mystogan's cloak.
"Bov Oris. I will see you at your trial. I will see you convicted for the full extent of your crimes. Then you shall never darken my horizon, or that of my friend's ever again.."
I then turned and walked away.
Wendy was still holding Milky Way active, reluctant to see the tribe disappear again. They were all catching up, speaking with bright happy voices. Sherria was taking on medical treatment of the rescued hostages and those of our captives who needed it. The little boy that I had noticed at the beginning was hugging his grandfather. The older gentlemans face had color and was breathing easy once again. Sherria had performed the necessary treatment well. He would live a long time.
Someone's shoulder gently knocked mine.
"You looked like you were about to rip out his tongue and show it to him."
Kinana's voice was soft, conversational even. My shoulders slumped, the cold knot where those words and that hatred had come from was tightly sealed again.
"I...let him get to me." I admitted, knuckled whitening on the Sacred Lightning staff. "I thought I was centered enough. I thought I could...know what, and why without letting him change me. I thought..."
I wasn't going into the sick feeling of imagining Rogue, Sting or Wendy transforming into Acnologia. That secret was going to stay with me until I could suss out if it was what Oris believed...or if it was actually possible. And thinking about how close I had come to enthralling another person...that was an immediate concern. I knew tempers could get people into trouble, buy in the moment it had felt so right and justified. The perfect way of balancing the scales...
A hand rested on my shoulder and I looked over at my friend and part time animal companion. Kinana was a beautiful, mature woman with the heart of an angel. And she...looked like she knew what I was failing to express.
"I thought I could win...that fight...instead I just let him control how I felt."
Kinana, called the Naga for her iconic powerset, shook her head slowly.
"No Fae. You tried to understand him. You tried to look at him and see a person instead of a monster. And it is not your fault that you couldn't see one."
I let those words sink in. taking comfort in them...But I felt she wasn't done yet. And I was right.
"It is true that you got angry. You let your anger control the words you said. And your words...will always be linked with your magic. I don't think it's possible to separate them."
She gave a soft huff.
"I also doubt there will come a day when you can look into someone who worships war to such an extent and not be repulsed and furious. Because you've seen humanity, nobility and redemption in places no one else would look or could see."
She carefully drew me into a hug, only an inch or so shorter than I was.
"Not every opponent will be one you can identify with. We love you for the heart you have that is always open. That always tries..."
She smoothed my hair, careful of the braids that were still woven in them.
"Some mountains are not yours to move, Fae. You demand enough of yourself. Let others take Oris and get him the help he needs so he can be held accountable for his crimes."
A gentle touch on my forehead, a cool, scaled wing wrapping around me in an extra layer of a hug.
"You are enough, my brave hatchling. You have done enough for today."
I leaned into Kinana's shoulder...suddenly sad and tired beyond belief. And missing home.
Not the building. Not the familiar bed, the well known sights, sounds or smells.
But the people who still weren't there. Who I had been searching for for five years...
No award that I earned. No number of books sold. No academic accolade. Nothing I had done in the last six years had been able to cure the tiny feeling that I was letting everyone down. I knew stuff, I found it, I had the potential to achieve anything. And I still had not been able to find our missing guild family and bring them home.
No one asked why my eyes were red when Kinana and I rejoined the main party. But Wendy did squeeze me in a tight hug and remained close by.
Not even my moment of negativity and depression could stop the smile on my face of seeing Chief Roabul again. He looked different from what I had last seen him as. He was young again. Taller, dark haired again, and so very happy. The centuries had fallen away from him and left only the glowing memory a noble leader who wanted to make things right.
"Hello Chief."
"We've been watching, Seer. And we owe you much gratitude for what you have done in our memory." He gave a salute, fist over his heart and an unwavering smile. "You've done much, learned much and will grow still further. And even in your righteous anger, you honored to the sanctity of our ways, and did no unnecessary harm in our place of rest and refuge. Though we are gone, we would extend to you, a Name to be recorded amongst our peoples as friend and kindred of heart."
I was so emotionally wrung out that I halfheartedly poked Morgana to get her to translate the prose rather than puzzle through it.
Before she could respond though, Wendy leaned over and whispered in my ear.
"He wants to adopt you. As a Nirvit, like he did me."
That made my head snap around. Her smile was big and glorious to see after the week we had been having in hunting down her stalker.
"I thought..."
That this rarely ever happened. Adoption to the Nirvit's was only applicable for someone who brought in a new art form or a new line of magic. And I suppose that I qualified but this felt different.
"Yes, thinking is one of your better qualities. Also a weakness when you do it to excess. Your efforts have preserved our memory in the world as the peacekeepers we once were. You held your peace when righteous wrath would have made you cruel. You carry on the work we loved most, not from outside obligation, but for the love you have for it."
Roabul's chuckle was wholehearted, as were the bright eyed looks of the tribesmen around us.
They weren't clad in armor or carrying any weapons. But they had stood between Oris's henchmen and stopped every blow that might have caused harm. And they were all looking at me now.
"This is only an offer, Faerun. It will change nothing. Just make some old dead people happy."
I managed a light giggle.
"Not just some old or dead people I think." I pointedly did not look at Wendy, whose smile pulled into a grin. "Whatever you freely give me, I will accept with pride."
I already had a family. This was true and unchanging. And the wonderful part about family was it was grown through love and loyalty and not something as limiting as blood. Or ectoplasm/spirit matter in this case.
Roabul gave a short commanding shout and the Nirvit spirits Wendy had summoned stood straight and gathered around me. The green streams of light from Wendy's spell filled the air around us in an ethereal backdrop.
"Celeste D Faerun, artisan, story teller, inventor, historian. Creator of many wonders."
The air was silent and peaceful, my heart was being pulled to two opposite spectrums and somehow that dichotomy made both the suppressed grief and the burgeoning happiness bearable and manageable. The spirits in their ring placed their left hands on the shoulders of those standing beside them and extended their right towards me, palm up. An invitation.
"The tribe welcomes you home, Pagemaster."
A/N
Thanks for staying with us through this! This was a little bit of a different feel than was usual. I'm quite happy with how it turned out!
Update:
Sequel is in the planning stages right now. One more Time Skip chapter is planned to wrap up some loose ends and set the scene for Scribe of the Sidhe.