WARNING: Violence, blood, death.
The Second Apprentice
Following the ruinous destruction wrought by Dragon's suicidal move, the grounds was stirred with agitation, despite skirmishes having been quelled in the city's corners. That area under Capricorn became of utmost interest, and from there officers were sent to give word to the barracks.
It was in this context that Jabu received their hurried message, speaking in the canteen around their ever-changing map. "So that's what that was," he said upon hearing the explanation.
"Yes, the crater goes deeper than it goes wide, but the shock wave crumbled a few nearby structures," the officer told him.
"Were any civilians affected?"
"Only minor injuries reported so far."
"Give them any supplies and medical attention they need. Make sure to knock on every door around the blast to check."
"Understood." Thereon rising comments echoed from the corridors, so the Saints and soldiers looked on, some pairs of boots racing over the flooring.
"It's a Gold Saint!" someone asked in response.
"Where's your commander?" Aldebaran's voice asked.
"In the cantina, sir!"
As expected, it was Taurus who paced in, closely accompanied by the Angels Icarus and Atalanta, and he took note that no one there was acquainted with him. His sight, nonetheless, inspired a high rank and constellation. "Who's in charge here?"
Jabu walked forth and slipped from behind his friends. "I am," he confirmed.
"I need to know what's the situation like in the Cult's quarters."
"The Cult…" Unicorn paused unexpectedly, but followed to reply with what he learned "… should be clear as day at this point. We liberated it long ago."
"Then take these two to the High Priestess, if you can." So Aldebaran stepped aside to no longer block the Angels, and the Saints saw their intricate armor, its construction too precise and complicated to remind them of lower-ranking colleagues.
"S-sure," the young man spoke and looked at the newcomers suspiciously. Icarus gave him a stately stare, whereas Atalanta looked estranged, as if treated like an alien. "They don't seem like Saints, though."
"No, they're Angels," Taurus revealed, and the ones who overheard him fell shocked.
"What, Angels?" another Saint mumbled.
"They will speak to the High Priestess and fill you in on the details. I'll check on that crater pronto, so get it done."
Jabu assured him: "No problem, I'll take it from here."
"I'm counting on you."
Once the Gold Saint exited, those present were left in that silent, awkward situation, face-to-face with the most curious folk they could meet in a lifetime. The visitors, however, eyed on oddly at their inaction. After growing impatient, Atalanta furled the brow and signaled with the hands to say: "Hmm? What's the matter? We're doing this or not?"
"Uh… yes!" Jabu exclaimed as if awakened from impertinent thoughts. "Let's move."
A convoy of Bronze Saints circled and led both to the headquarters, where the guards permitted them past the heavy doors by the commander's request. After Ichi had shut the door behind them for safety — since they did not wish prying passersby to as much as look into that sacred a place — they delved deep into the cavern towards the great hall.
From the corner, Geki insisted on observing the Angels, more specifically Atalanta, who walked close to him. Oft did he turn away from her, more when she seemed to notice, but the mannerisms of a man that big were too obvious for stealth, and it didn't take long until the redhead gazed at him pointedly.
Despite her insistence, he turned forth to act innocent, yet she didn't let him go scot-free. "Ever read that book where the guy wakes up a cockroach? That's what happens to people who ogle maidens too long, Saint," she sarcastically spoke.
Geki's swarthy skin blushed red out of shame and fear, then he bumbled when his colleagues judged him with frowns. The thought of waking up a flattened roach rather than his usual self came to mind, so he finally mustered words: "Y-you've got it all wrong! She seemed familiar, is all!"
Ultimately they entered the hall, and the girl was amazed by the statues of historical figures from the Cult of Athena, to the extent that she spat a brief "wow". Soon they found the platform where meetings were often organized by the cultists, and although they usually would not walk over it while processions were at hand, they took exception to their situation, seeing that no priestess or acolyte stood on it.
They walked past that and proceeded towards a corridor in the back, where some of the quarters were located behind wooden doors. Unfortunately for them, regardless of their knowledge that holy women slept past the rocky walls, a lot of noise had to be made in order for them to reach the one place with an open door: High Priestess Aleka's bedroom, far back in the twisting paths.
Beyond boxes piled up for storage of food and drinking water, they met the sight of Aleka leaned against the door frame, dressed in a nightgown, and hair tied in a bun. Jabu felt like a nuisance to wake her up so discourteously.
"Sorry for waking you up," he told her.
The Saints were the first to bow, and the Angels the second. "Worry not," the High Priestess said. "Sleeping while war rages outside is hard in and of itself."
"We barged in because we were told to bring them to you."
The Angels were given way to approach, thus the priestess studied the etching on their cuirasses mindfully. Her knowledge of history allowed her to make assumptions about their identities, although the latter came with doubt: "Icarus and… Atalanta, I presume?"
"Astute observation, ma'am," Icarus confirmed with a nod.
Atalanta seemed slightly baffled that her name was inferred so forthwith. "How does she know that?" asked the girl.
"She must have deduced by the figures on our Glories."
"Eh!" the Angel uttered in enlightenment. Again, Aleka corroborated it with a smile and signal of the head.
"What do I owe your presence to?" the woman spoke.
"You are the one in charge of raising the replacement for the Cancer Saint, are you not?" Icarus questioned. This came as both a question and vested news — bad ones at that. With a sudden breath of pang, the High Priestess deviated the stare slowly aground. She came close to sobbing at the thought of Deathmask's departure from this world, although the tears only bundled under her pupils. "I am sorry, ma'am."
She raised the palm to ease him, then dried the eyes. "I will be fine," she assured with a broken tone, one soon fixed with a gulp. "I must say, a child is currently in training, albeit one too young."
"How young?" Atalanta chimed in.
"Too young to learn the trapping of souls, to put it bluntly."
Icarus continued: "Your apprentice has been dead for hours now, enough for the judges to notice his absence. We were sent to correct this before it grows into a grave issue."
"I know the protocols," she guaranteed, "I know what I must do."
"Good. May I leave this matter to the Saints?"
"Of course."
The first Angel bowed more closely. "My condolences. May time heal your mourning heart," he whispered.
Seeing that, Atalanta offered the same: "My condolences, ma'am." Once they left her with Jabu and the others, Aleka shut the eyes and turned to the rocks, processing such terrible news with a sigh.
Far above, back in the temples, a conflict of Cosmoi took place upwards from Capricorn, whereas Shiryu silently bled, spattered over the marble floor. It was then that a man entered, in his hands the limp body of another, which he slowly brought over to the wall next to Dragon.
When he lowered and the flames of torches shone against his face, the Cygnus Cloth and the fair hair announced Hyoga, Shun inanimate in his arms. He took him to the floor and nuzzled the hair atop his head as he did so, before he was lied softly onto stone. Just as carefully, he dragged Shiryu to the side and checked on the bleeding wounds, easily exposed due to lack of armor.
Thanks to extreme cold, he cryocauterized the large and deep cuts from Excalibur, no matter how much time this took. He knew it would not make healing easy for his friend, but preferred to risk extra pain than loss of life. When the injuries on the front and back had been frozen shut, and no more blood flowed onto the pool below, he stood and stared at both of them a while.
He felt the energy coming from above, a familiar couple of powers which he thus chose to chase. Therewith Cygnus left the temple to meet the eleventh one, the jar from which hailed the twin fish, the House of Aquarius. It was there where the sound of intense fighting could be heard. Long ago, Seiya and Camus had already met and clashed as a result. Passage was not given by Hyoga's master, and so they struggled in mutual defiance.
Pegasus was a much more aggressive force, though this was met with staunch defense, Aquarius frequently raising spiked walls of ice to break the advance. Like the state in which the Sagittarius Temple was left, the surfaces on that place were slippery, coated in unmelting layers of ice. In the center, above a circular pool, stood a statue of a veiled lady pouring a slender jar overhead; the stream of water that would've fallen from the container was frozen in place, standing only thanks to the water below, that had also solidified.
Camus erupted from the icy dust of a broken blockade and swept Seiya back with freezing wind. The Bronze Saint nearly lost balance, but spun sideways and landed with grace. "Why are you doing this?" the boy asked, met with ignorance.
Frustrated, he attempted to slip through once again, to no avail. Even being faster than that foe, he could not penetrate his barriers, for he had full control in a place with temperature so low, and could rise sheets of ice at will.
That notwithstanding, there were instances where Seiya came close to an escape, always brought to a halt into crashing frost. Because he had grown angered, he burned Cosmos and strode with a heavy swing, screaming: "PEGASUS METEOR FIST!"
This could've injured a foe, which Aquarius knew well, so he dodged with every tool at his disposal. He slid back all the way to the porch outside the exit, allowing his body to raise horizontally, legs thrown back; this meant the spheres of energy flew under before he safely rocketed himself in.
Pegasus was caught as he attempted the next escape, unaware of the enemy's plans. "DIAMOND DUST!" Camus' voice finally echoed, and the place was engulfed in turbulent gales. The young man became coated in ice while thrust back, though he gyrated midair and cracked the sheets, which flew outwards with the forces.
The Gold Saint covered his face from the particles, then remained prepared afterwards. Once a hint of someone else's energy sparked behind Seiya, his stoic shell nearly broke out of apprehension. Pegasus, however, grinned and skipped onward to pester him.
He was pushed back with a blast of ice, then had to block a preemptive punch that vibrated the plates on his arm. As soon as he flipped to sweep Camus off his feet, the man raised both arms to produce a violent outburst, which pushed the Bronze Saint back and compelled him to recompose.
Nonetheless, the encroaching visitor had come, but not to attack by surprise. The dim outline was difficult to see against such a dark sky, and the illuminating crystals within scattered light in uneven ways, as they stayed also under ice.
Eventually the identity became undeniable, and whereas Seiya beamed at the sight, Camus' lips parted in shock. "Hyoga, you're alive!" his friend said. Cygnus merely scowled at his master, therefore Pegasus followed suit. "For some reason, Camus won't let me pass. He didn't even bother to tell me why."
"Go on through," Hyoga nonchalantly said.
"Huh? But he keeps blocking the exit."
During silent seconds, he took steps closer to Camus and positioned the boots parallel to each other; the guardian acted similarly, shifting the placement of his legs. "As long as I'm here, he won't try to stop you," claimed the apprentice.
Seiya looked back and forth and began to shy his way around the Gold Saint. Indeed, he would not take eyes away from Cygnus, and Pegasus was free to hurry up the stairway to the last house.
Aquarius insisted on staring at his student without a word, yet, as deadpan as he was, the tone of his semblance appeared inquisitive to the other. The wordless question was answered with actions: the Bronze Saint's Cosmos burned colder than ever before, seemingly boundless in nature. After the briefest of sighs, Camus understood the means through which he had not died, then presented his own power in confrontation.
Hyoga assumed the fearsome pose of the swan, albeit only with the curved arms, legs still stuck to the floor. He lowered the head and let strands of hair occlude his features, then lifted both arms straight up, fingers of both fists joined at the top. In face of that, Camus rose a chin and felt shaken, eyes watering with emotions he dared not express. Master shadowed the student's stance as would a mirror.
What he saw wrapped by plummeting temperatures was no longer Cygnus. In fact, he trusted an instinct that it was his first apprentice who was destined to take that Bronze Cloth — undeniably, the one in front of him was a much grander soul. Crowned with the Seventh Sense, and, as a matter of course, readying such deadly ability, he assumed to take in the mien of the truest Aquarius Saint. He found the only other one his constellation would ever preside over.
Moments before the strike, his tears fell at the realization, flowing as a crystalline stream ensnared by meandering Cosmoi. Streaks of greenish lights adorned the view in the hall, then at last, their arms violently lowered.
"AURORA EXECUTION!"
The forces met midway to maturate into explosive sequences of polar lows. Much of the structure in the temple crumbled with the intensity, and both of them were caught in the blast, thrown spinning with little control, then crashing into the pillars that had not fallen prey to their power.
At the split second before he struck a column and fell unconscious, Camus was overcome with the joy of learning he may not have been a bad master, and that haply he had not done it all wrong. Either he had been in some way successful, or he had been naught but a stepping stone for the next Aquarius, his second and last apprentice.
Under the rubble of falling marble, Cloths cracked by the summed energies, the sight of that aftermath was bloody and impressive. Somehow the structure of the building held on after losing so many pillars, yet it was impossible to tell for how long it would stand. Fallen abandoned, the snowy, heavily injured images of Camus and Hyoga stayed there until the end of the war came to carry them away.
Despite the great heights of those powers behind him, Seiya didn't turn back, tunneling on the upcoming house and the Pope's Cosmos far above it, the nearest it had ever felt. Upon arriving at the porch, he witnessed a gentle breeze and the sign of the twin fish; Aquarius was the jar whence Pisces were spilled, and so it was natural that both Saints neighbored each other.
The young man's only hope was that no more difficulties would arise, if not his inevitable clash with the one in the Temple of Athena. "This is the twelfth temple, the last before I reach the end," he murmured and moved in. "Please, let this one go well!"
Therein he found the main hall, virtually as vast as Virgo's, albeit with a decidedly different layout; the largest section was built as a rose garden of small fountains, then succeeded by a wide walkway lined by beds of colorful roses. Panes of glass above diffused the light of energized crystals, warming up the place as if lit by filtered sunlight. On the walls, variously-sized still life paintings hung from nails, displaying the same flowers that embellished the temple, only with fruit, plates, vases, and other commonplace decorations.
The perfume and temperature impressed Pegasus, and he comprehended the breeze he had felt at the door; the air caressed the place, flowing down from the stairway above, to the corridor, then as far as the porch. Someone's pale robes were lightly carried by this movement; this person, who tended for one of the beds close to the exit, was whom Seiya approached.
In fact that was Aphrodite, the Swedish youth whose duty call Marin first delivered. He carried a large basket overflowing with many roses, only white, red, and black. As he wore no helmet, Pegasus could take in his long, dark blond hair, apart from a flowery aroma coming from its waves. There were signs of a Gold Cloth under the loose cloak, yet he kept the body largely covered.
Seen from the side, only his gentle features, pink lip gloss, a subtle blush to the pale cheeks, and the beauty mark below the eye were visible. For all intents and purposes, Seiya assumed him to be a woman and went with it. "Excuse me, ma'am," he called.
The other turned upon plucking a shorter rose, and with face fully revealed, those round bright eyes and delicate nose took the visitor by surprise. "A Bronze Saint, aren't you?" Pisces questioned with that breathy tone his.
"Yeah…"
"Do me a favor," he stopped to show the flower he held. "In the bedding behind me there are roses white as snow. Pluck some blooming ones at this length, will you?"
Seiya nodded and promptly turned to the other side of the corridor. "Okay!" He saw that the colors had been painstakingly divided, and that behind them flowed water that both nurtured the plants and fed the ornamental fountains of marine animals in the larger hall. "These white ones, right?"
"Yes," Aphrodite confirmed after double-checking. "Three of them should be enough." Carefully, the Bronze Saint plucked only the roses whose petals were spread to the light above, though the guardian still had more to say: "Ah, forgive my crudeness. May I have your name?"
"I'm Seiya. Seiya of the Pegasus constellation."
"I'm Pisces Aphrodite," said the other, and that only reinforced Seiya's naive belief in his gender. "It's nice to make your acquaintance."
Thus Pegasus returned with the three flowers, properly cut at the desired length. "Like this?"
Pisces smiled brightly and slid the stems into the basket. "Wonderful! That's just the perfect length," he said.
Seeing the innocence and softness in his smile made Seiya grin and scratch the side of the head with an index. Out of awkwardness, he had forgotten his objective for a brief moment. "Uhm, yeah," he muttered ere coming to his senses, "so you seem like a nice lady, Aphrodite. I bet you'll understand." He breathed in and out deeply in preparation, and with a wince, hurried through the question: "Is it fine if I pass over to the Temple of Athena?"
The Gold Saint only gave a serene, somewhat inquisitive expression. "I'm afraid that's no longer possible," he replied.
Seiya stepped closer with the aim of pressuring him with reasoning, however, the breeze hit in an angle that made Aphrodite's curls and neck exhale more of that intoxicating scent. He turned slightly to the side and nodded negatively; the perfume was no different from before, only that in such concentration, it both confused and dizzied him. "But… but I…" he stammered, then his eyes looked back up at Pisces, sensing some strangeness. If such a strong whiff of the roses left a mind spinning, how could someone live a whole day in that garden? No, worst perhaps was the obvious observation he made next: Aphrodite's face was naked in a manner almost sinful to an amazon. "… huuuh?" The realization struck him as would a truck, thus he leaned back — face twisted by pure shock — and rudely pointed. "Eeeh, w-wait a minute there, you… this again? No way!"
Aphrodite hummed out of some malicious amusement. "What's with that face, Mister Seiya?"
"I totally thought you were a pretty girl! Ah, man, I can't believe this, you didn't even correct me when I called you a lady — that stuff on your mouth and everything, of course I'm going to be confused! Is this some kind of prank that you do? Come on, just look normal!"
After a brief giggle, Pisces insisted for the sake of jest: "Well, what if I were a pretty girl?"
"Hm? What do you mean?"
He raised the eyebrows, but then turned to focus on his job, bringing red roses into the basket. "Did you fancy getting a girlfriend that looks like me?"
Seiya looked off to the side in further shame. "I mean, no," he responded, "like, I already have a girlfriend, so I was just surprised, that's all."
"You shouldn't have a girlfriend, Mister Seiya. That sort of relation is forbidden to us."
To that the Bronze Saint became defensive, for he was unaware of such a law. "No, no, don't get me wrong!" he exclaimed after babbling. "We just like each other a lot, that's what I meant by girlfriend, but it's not a relationship or whatever."
From the corner of the eyes, Aphrodite offered another mischievous smile. His insult, however, came with a girlish drawl: "You're so silly…" Once more Seiya's face burned, and he shyly avoided visual contact while the other Saint walked to a corner of the flower bed, where he collected black roses. "I suppose that's a gray area. Us Saints may be denied most carnal pleasures, even the intimacy of a lover, but there is no law that bars us from love itself, the feeling. In other words, love her as you will."
Pegasus now accompanied the other man's collecting, then recalled his original worry. "Anyway, about the passage — I need to go up to speak to the Pope as quickly as possible," he said.
"As I mentioned, it's no longer possible to reach the Temple of Athena."
"Why not?"
"The Pisces Saint is charged with buffering the stairway to our Lady during war. Even I cannot safely go up any longer, since I could fall before arrival."
As he wished to do prior, Seiya intensified his tone of voice, although, faced with someone that calm, he restrained himself: "I have to go, Aphrodite! It's a matter of life or death for Athena!"
Aphrodite shut the eyes and strolled to the next bed of roses. "You have been warned. I suggest that you stay if you value your welfare."
Seiya sighed and thought a moment. For the efforts of his friends, the many dangerous foes he battled to reach that point, seemingly no more obstacles ahead, he would've sacrificed his own life, if at all necessary, to give a chance of survival to his goddess. No longer turned to Pisces, he instead focused on the exit at the end of the corridor.
"I'm going," he announced.
"That's unfortunate to hear, but I will not stop you, Mister Seiya. I appreciate the help you offered with my garden," said the Gold Saint.
With that over, Pegasus marched to the exit, seeing the reflection of petals on the floor outside. The closer he came to the passage, the louder became the jangling of many a wind chime, gauges for the wind produced by the unique conditions in the House of Pisces.
Out to the porch, he could finally see the stairway from a proper angle; that was the longest one thus far, dwarfing others at least eight times in length, and it curved ever so subtly into the distance. The beds from the corridor past the threshold continued till the last destination, but the roses therein were dry and overtly delicate.
A soothing wind came, as if from above to run amid the temple's hall, and it brought the loosened petals with it, crumbling their tender fabric into a dust-like substance. These shards permeated the air and the marble beneath, such that when Seiya stepped onto them, they crumbled further and more easily shot up in the air.
The otherwise sweet perfume of roses fell rather bittersweet there, like a pleasure one must not indulge. The manner with which it tingled the airways wasn't alarming at the first sensation, though it came as an extra sign of danger.
Admiring the beauteous view, Pegasus seemed confused. "A flower road? That's what it is?" he mumbled and walked towards the first step. "Eh, why does it matter? It's time to give the Pope what's a long time coming!" So he flashed into the distance, and like this he disturbed both the unremitting wind and the flowers it affected, launching more broken petals to the skies. Thus the Bronze Saint believed he'd soon reach the Pope's corrupting Cosmos, to bring an end to the war and Athena's ailment.
Far below the temples, however, in the site of Capricorn Shura's impact, elements of the rebellious army convened to recover his body. They set up a wooden crane at stable ground to more easily lift him out of the hole, and were during the process of raising him.
Aldebaran squatted close to the hole, watched by an officer, and recognized the corpse's identity as it came in view. Visibly fazed, he took off the helmet to reveal a roughly cut, long hairdo, and lowered his saddened expression. "That's Shura," he confirmed.
The officer waved for the men at the crane to pull him off to the side, since the visual recognition had been made. He tapped the Gold Saint's shoulder a few instances to support him, yet Taurus didn't seem to respond.
"Sir, for such a thing to happen…" he shook the head at the wastes they endured everyday due to the rebellion "… what's going on in the temples?"
Aldebaran got up to answer: "No different than down here, we're being pitted against one another. That man was among the most loyal and experienced Saints we had, and there he is, killed by one of his own. What a disgrace…"
"But it has to have a reason!" the officer told him. "This whole war has to!"
"What reason could there be?"
"I don't know. Perhaps one of the other gods, they must be behind this! They could be trying to weaken us for an invasion."
The Gold Saint spat a chuckle at that. "Wouldn't be the first time," he commented before turning to the warrior, "but I hope you're right, officer. If we find out these people died for someone's selfish ambition, I don't know what I'll do." Taking his leave, he slid the helmet on and departed from the vicinity, leaving the military to bow and finish the job with Shura's corpse.