The funeral for Emperor Doel was nothing to scoff at. The entirety of Kazas and all the villages in Southern Serdio must have shown up, as people stretched as far as the eye could see. Although, now that Dart thought about it, it really wasn't saying much. They'd all crowded into the massive courtyard of the Black Castle to watch the emperor's pyre, after an annoyingly long line of people had stood before the masses to speak. Albert was among them, and Dart did his best not to roll his eyes when he took the podium. The king's speeches were never something he wanted to listen to, and now that Albert had retrieved his dark green attire, Dart hated how much he reminded him of Lavitz. Occasionally, when he saw him out of the corner of his eye, with his emerald clothes and golden hair, fitted with a lance in his hand, Dart almost thought it really was Lavitz. And inevitably, disappointment settled on him once again as he looked the king squarely in the face.
Throughout the entire ceremony, Dart stood with his hands clasped behind his back, Haschel and Shana on either side of him, all of them trying not to stare at Doel's lifeless body waiting to be set to flames. It was quite unnerving, the emperor lying there so close, as if he knew that they had killed him and was preparing to rise up and take his revenge. The unending sidelong glances from the crowds didn't help, either.
After King Albert was finally done spewing on about the few good deeds of Doel, the healing of ancient wounds, and the bright future awaiting the new Serdio, the Great Commander - who was now the acting mayor of Kazas - said a prayer for the emperor's soul before several guards approached with torches and lit the wood near the base of the platform. Soon enough, the flames engulfed Doel's body, committing his spirit into the next life.
Dart was beyond grateful when they finally departed the courtyard and found their way back into the castle. Repeatedly, he reminded himself that they were leaving the next day, and that soon enough they would be doing things again instead of sitting around munching on grapes. After they returned to Bale and secured whatever chaos may have been roaming through the city, they would once again be off, five dragoons on a mission.
However, the previous day's events still rattled around in his mind. The haunting corpses of the two dragons caused him considerable unease, though not as much as it had Haschel. The old man had been silent ever since he'd come back to the room the night before, and still seemed to be ruminating. But Dart knew better than to intrude; instead of prying into Haschel's inner thoughts, he'd simply informed the Albert of Doel's eccentric research activities. The king did not take it well.
Dart spent most of the afternoon wondering what Tiberoa was like. He'd heard that it was usually hotter and drier than Serdio, courtesy of some kind of oceanic phenomenon that he did not really understand despite Albert's multiple efforts in teaching him, but he was more than prepared to enter such a climate. Serdio was often too damp and cold for his tastes, and he was looking forward to the chance to feel perfectly comfortable without having to generate his own heat all the time.
That evening, Dart's restless legs roamed the castle in anticipation of the journey ahead. It really was a grand, stately place, albeit dark and somewhat menacing, but filled with all kinds of expensive decorations and unnecessary frivolities. He still balked at the dragonsbane torchlight waiting for him around every corner, and if it would not have aroused great suspicion among the wandering servants and guards, Dart would have dragged around his own flame for light. But either Doel had employed far too many servants, or they had all agreed to spy on him; everywhere he turned, there was another maid shooting him rude glances before ducking her head and charging past. He'd tried to talk to several of them, but they'd had none of that. He couldn't tell if they were angry or simply afraid. It was just as well. He'd helped kill their emperor.
Just as he was about to head back to his room for some relative solitude - maybe Haschel would be asleep - he came upon a small, covered balcony overlooking the city and the plains beyond. The view was nothing compared to the one from Indels Castle, but what really attracted his attention was Shana, leaning against the railing and watching the last dying rays of light as they disappeared behind the hills to the west. Her chocolate hair, soft and clean from a bath that morning, cascaded down her back, bits of it breaking free and tossing itself over her shoulders as slight breezes blew past her. He took a sharp breath when he saw her, and thought about turning back, but he knew that she'd heard him coming; everything echoed in these stone hallways. They hadn't had a proper, private conversation since before the Hero Competition, and he could sense that she'd been wanting one. Might as well get it over with, he thought.
Reluctantly, he strode out and stopped to her left, leaning forward on his elbows and trying not to look at her. She smelled of honeysuckle, and he had to fight not to sniff at her like a madman. She said nothing, registering his presence with merely a glance.
"Nice evening," he said casually.
"Yes," she agreed.
They stood in silence. He could feel her desire to speak; why wasn't she? He glanced over at her, then quickly down to his hands. There was something about the way the light hit her face, her hair... Sighing lightly, he pushed the thoughts away. Too many hidden emotions whirled around inside him to be dealing with these, too.
"Listen-" he started.
"You don't have to talk," she interrupted.
"...Oh." Perhaps she'd come to the balcony for some time away from the others. He pushed off the rail to leave.
"No, I mean..." she said hastily, turning to him with a slightly panicked expression. "You don't have to leave! I'm sorry! I just meant that you don't have to talk to me about... things if you don't want to, or if it makes you uncomfortable."
"Oh," he repeated, returning to the railing. "Sorry."
"I just don't want you to feel obligated... I know that Lavitz was the one you went to... before."
Flashes of memory - nights around campfires, talking in the windowless room - came rushing back in a great wave of pain, and he turned his eyes to the hills. How long would it be like this? Like a great abyss lurked within him, widening at every mention of the name. Would it ever be filled again?
"Yeah," he said stiffly. He'd thought he could do it, talk to Shana about everything he'd been feeling since the prison, but he now realized how impossible that was. Wishing desperately that he could give her what she wanted, what she deserved, he changed the subject.
"I still can't really believe we ended the war, though." Then without thinking, he added, "He'd... He'd be happy." Clearing his throat, Dart tried to remove the lump that sat there, pressing painfully against his esophagus. Maybe he should find a glass of water.
"Yes," replied Shana quietly. "It's exactly what he wanted. But sometimes I wonder... was the cost too high?"
Dart grabbed onto the new topic. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated. "Were we right to kill him? To come into his home, unwanted, and murder an emperor?"
"Shana, he's killed thousands of innocent people over the years. Including Albert's father. Started a war, convinced Greham to betray Lavitz's father, and worked with Lloyd to kidnap you and kill all those people in Seles. And let's not forget that he slaughtered a dragon just for research. I think it was the least he deserved."
"I know. But I just can't help but think that there may have been a better way to handle the situation."
He sighed. "We ended the war with minimal bloodshed. If we had followed more conventional strategies, we could have ended up losing another thousand Basil soldiers, and at least that many from Sandora. Not to mention, the King of Basil himself sanctioned the mission."
"Dart, I..." She sighed and put her head in her hands, sparking some strange instinct within him. It took every conscious effort not to sweep his arms around her and hold her until she smiled again. "I delivered the final blow," she said, her voice nearly wavering. "After everything that happened, all that fighting, I'm the one who killed him."
"You did what you had to."
Ignoring him, she closed her eyes and continued. "I keep seeing that moment over and over in my head. I thought you could handle it without me, but then Albert got hurt and I got angry. All that swirl of magic, and nothing was working until I pulled back that shaft and fired. And then he was on the ground, bleeding to death. It was me. If I hadn't fired, he wouldn't have died."
"Shana..."
"And you know the worst part? I didn't care. In that moment, the dragoon took over. It was like I had to protect you, and the others, no matter what it would cost, even if I killed him."
This he understood. It was exactly what he felt every time he looked at her.
"You've killed before. Why is this different?" he asked.
As her glistening eyes met his, he froze. For a long second, all he could hear was his own thudding heartbeat. I thought we'd moved past this, said a voice in his head. We're not supposed to be feeling this anymore. Somehow, that voice did little to aid him.
"He wasn't always so evil," she said, "and he was Albert's uncle. What makes it okay for me to kill him?"
"For starters, he was trying to kill us," said Dart, ripping himself away and turning back to the landscape. "And he was powerful, too. I wouldn't put it past him to actually have succeeded with one or two of us eventually. But you're the reason why he didn't. You did what you had to so that we would all come out alive and unharmed. I think... it would be a different kind of day if you hadn't helped."
"I guess... you're right. But... I still feel like it was wrong."
"It fades. Over time."
Returning to their silence, they watched the darkness creep over the countryside as the stars and the moon's rays became more vivid. He tried to will himself out of his own emotions, to stop feeling this for her. It was already bad enough that he'd dragged Shana into all this mess, and that she would undoubtedly accompany them into the next one. But he simply couldn't bring himself to take her with him to face the Black Monster, whether they were both dragoons or not. One day, their journey chasing Lloyd would end, and he would leave her again. What was the point of pursuing a dream that would one day have to die?
Shana's timid voice broke the silence. "When was the first time you killed somebody?"
The young face flashed before him, the crude armor, the blood. The lifeless eyes. Dart had seen too many since then.
"About a year after I left," he said quietly. "The east is kind of wild, a lawless place. Nobody is under the king's jurisdiction, and they all do what they want. There's a... limited amount of government. And because of that, attacks from bandits are common." He dropped his gaze to his hands, fingering the polished stone surface of the railing. "He was probably about my age now. Hoping for an easy haul. I did have a nice sword, I suppose, for the area. He didn't expect me to know how to handle it, though."
"How long did it take? To forget?"
He paused, remembering his grief. Only nineteen, he was little more than a child at the time, and death was something he'd managed to avoid since Neet. Even now, he recalled the scene vividly.
The body was on the ground, eyes staring blankly at the hazy sky. Red blood dripped from the steel sword in his hand as he gazed down, wide-eyed. Hastily, he wiped the blood on the grass before heaving his lunch onto the forest floor. What was he to do? Would someone find the body and realize what had happened? Would he be imprisoned? Killed? Grasping for answers, he dragged the body deep into the trees, hidden among several bushes. The gods will surely curse me for this, he thought as he continued his journey, dragging his feet. He didn't sleep that night, or the next.
"I never did," he said quietly.
Shana's eyes were on him now, and he could feel the sympathy she radiated. He wanted to get swept away in it, but he did not move. Slowly, she placed a hand on his forearm, and without thinking, he pulled away, causing hurt to spread across her delicate features as she returned her gaze to the city.
I'm sorry, he pleaded silently. I can't.
"Mine was in Seles, I think," she stated, voice going stiff. "I shot one of the soldiers fighting Master Tasman, but I honestly don't know if I actually killed him."
"Tasman?" said Dart, ears perking at the name of his former master. "Is he alive? Did he survive?"
"I don't know," she replied mournfully.
Surely, he thought. Tasman was the only person in the village who could have mounted any kind of proper defense, and at the very least, he would have taken several soldiers with him.
"You never told me about the attack," said Dart. "What exactly happened?"
Shaking her head dolefully, Shana replied, "I'm the wrong person to ask. I was asleep when everything happened, but the screams and the fire woke me eventually. My house is on the outskirts, you know, so it didn't catch immediately. I looked outside and saw everything burning, and could barely make out some people running away, carrying their children to safety. Tasman was just outside, trying to fight them off, and I tried to help with my bow, but they had already made it inside. They knocked me out, and the next thing I knew it was morning, and I was far from town. I could barely see the smoke on the horizon."
"And the commander was there?"
"Yes. He stayed with us until I was safely locked away."
"I'm... sorry," said Dart slowly.
"It's not your fault."
He shook his head. How could it not be his fault? Somewhere inside him, he knew that if he'd been there, he could have stopped them. Fighting side by side with his former master, they would have been able to fight them off. If he'd just come back only a day sooner, if he'd just skipped that extra night in that little town east of Seles, he would've made it back on time. He couldn't imagine what she'd been put through, both on the ride to Hellena and in the prison itself. While she'd only spent a couple nights in the jail, even one second in Hellena was too long. And he knew that she'd been less than candid about what had happened inside.
"If I'd come back sooner..." he said.
"You couldn't have known," she said firmly. "Nobody could have."
"I could have stopped them."
"Don't put that on yourself."
"I could have stopped them," he insisted. "I could have saved everybody. I could have saved you."
"And what if you had?" She turned to him now, somehow gentle and fierce simultaneously. "If I hadn't been taken, where would we be? Certainly not here." She gestured over the city. "The war would still be raging, the dragon wreaking havoc and killing thousands of innocent people. We would never have met Lavitz, and he probably would have died in Hellena, completely alone. The world is better because you didn't come back earlier."
The lump in his throat returned in full force as he considered her words. If they had really made such a positive impact, why did his heart feel so heavy? Why did it hurt to breathe when he remembered anything past two weeks ago? It wasn't fair that they would succeed for so long only for Lavitz to fail. It wasn't fair that they would save a king's life only to lose a friend. And what was the point of it? What was the point of knowing Lavitz at all, of spending all that time with him, if he wasn't here now? All that was left was an open wound, ready to fester into a lethal infection. And if it healed, what then? What was the point of a scar but to remind you of what you lost?
"He wouldn't want you regretting your past," said Shana quietly.
It's not your fault, he'd said. The last words Lavitz would ever speak. Suddenly, Dart was back on that balcony, buffeted by that incessant wind, blood soaking his trousers, Lavitz's eyes flitting shut before him. No, he cried weakly, shaking his head, forcing himself away. But then he was back in Lohan, in that blasted room at the One-Eyed Crow. Lavitz sat across from him, laughing. Talking. Spewing wisdom and advice like always. I know this really great place in Bale. You can take me there.
No, Dart told himself forcefully. His throat caught; his eyes watered. He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. He couldn't cry like this in front of Shana.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"It's not your fault," he replied, forcing a weak smile. "But it's getting late, and we're traveling tomorrow. So I think I'll head back to my room." Pushing off the railing, he avoided her captivating brown eyes and turned to leave. "Good night," he muttered behind him.
"Dart."
He paused.
"He loved you."
"... Yeah."
He stepped forward and walked down the halls, not even noticing the questioning staff, and did not stop until he found his room. Stepping inside, he was relieved to find Haschel asleep, and closed the door behind him before sinking to the floor. For several minutes he sat there, arms propped on his knees, staring at the ceiling. Whatever was going on inside him would have to be sorted out eventually; he knew this, and yet he found himself wondering how long he could go on avoiding it before his sanity broke. Two months? Two years? Ten years?
Lavitz had believed in some kind of fate guiding them forward, and Dart couldn't help but wonder if that were true. But he wasn't sure that he liked the idea; what good was fate if it ripped away those you loved most?
The next morning, Dart slipped away early to go out into the city, a hefty bag of coins in his hand. It was the entirety of his winnings from the Hero Competition, given to Lavitz in return for everything he'd done for them. Ever since his friend's death, Dart hadn't quite felt like reclaiming the money, although everyone else had insisted that he keep it. Now, however, he had a different purpose for it.
As he walked down the streets, he was amazed at the change already visible. Although the city was still damp and rotting away in places, the people actually looked at him as he passed, occasionally sending a small smile. There were more people about, and a couple times, Dart saw parties and other celebrations through the windows of the buildings. He smiled; perhaps the city could heal, in time.
He continued along until he came to a familiar door, opening it to a familiar scene. Nobody sat in the lobby of the inn, except a forlorn Connor behind the counter, propping his head up with his hand. As the door opened, he perked up, but a shadow passed over his face when he saw Dart.
"It's you," said Connor, the disdain evident in his voice. It made sense; he'd sympathized with Doel, even thought him to be a great leader, and he'd no doubt realized that Dart's coming and Doel's death were not a coincidence. Even so, Dart couldn't help but feel hurt at the reaction.
"Yeah, it's me," he replied, closing the door behind him. "I know what you're probably thinking, and I can't really say much in my defense." Connor scoffed. "But I don't forget a promise." He strode up to the counter as Connor jerked into a standing position, prepared to fight or run. But instead of attacking, Dart simply reached out and dropped the sack of coins on the counter.
"What?"
"It's payment for our stay here. Plus a little more. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with the landlord, and... well, that money belonged to... a friend of mine, and he'd want you to have it."
Cautiously, carefully, Connor reached up and pulled the sack open, gasping when he saw the contents. Then in a burst of excitement, he dumped them onto the counter, all four hundred coins, and put a hand over his open mouth as they spread, several bouncing to the floor.
"This is... this is at least two months' rent!" he exclaimed. Then his eyes flitted back to Dart, full of suspicion and caution. "Why would you give me this? What do you want in return? My silence?"
Dart shook his head fervently. "No. I don't want anything from you. I know what all of this looks like, and I won't try to change your mind. But just know that... we believe we did the right thing. Not just for us, but for people like you. And if you can't forgive us... Just get back on your feet." With a small smile, Dart turned and made to leave. Just as his hand touched the doorknob, Connor called after him.
"Your friend... who was he?"
After drawing a long, shaky breath, Dart said, "His name was Lavitz. He fought for Basil, but... he cared about each person, no matter where they came from. Or who they fought for."
"He sounds like you," said Connor quietly. "Thank you."
Nodding, Dart swept himself outside and poured his soul into each footstep, ignoring the loud cries of his heart. He thudded on until he reached the castle and then found his way to his room. Haschel was running about, gathering and packing supplies. He looked up when Dart entered.
"Back at last," he said. "Ready to get on the road?"
"You have no idea," said Dart, grabbing his prepared satchel and swinging it over his back before stopping to watch Haschel with a smirk.
For a few seconds, Dart stood amused, until Haschel glared at him and said, "I know I should've packed last night. No need to be so smug about it."
Laughing, Dart said, "I'll meet you downstairs," and headed out the door.
Much to Dart's chagrin, a great procession lined up by the castle gates to usher them on their way. Even worse was the fact that the commander had decided to accompany them with a couple guards of his own, just in case they came across any unfriendly Sandora troops. Their group of five was now eight, and Dart was dreading the journey. For one, they would have to travel slower with non-dragoons. Not to mention, he would now have to spend at least a week with three extra people that he didn't like.
The first day wasn't so bad, until they made an unscheduled stop at a nearby village. At first, Dart thought that the commander had discovered that they were missing some supplies and needed to restock. But unfortunately, what should have been a quick visit turned into several hours of King Albert and the commander announcing the end of the war and assuring the people of a new peace. The people gave them many gifts, although most of it was junk, and Dart finally understood why they'd brought so many extra horses with them. After far too long a delay, they left the little village and continued their trek north.
Foolishly, Dart admitted, he'd thought that would be the last of it. However, he could never fault Albert for a lack of attention to detail. As they made outrageously slow progress, the king made sure to stop at every single village or town within several hours of the main road, many of which Dart had never known existed. He wondered if Seles had been such a small, unknown village like these before the Sandora attack.
After three days, they finally reached the narrow part of the road where the Serdian Mountains abutted the sea. When Dart recognized the terrain, he swore; three days should have taken them past Lohan. That night, as the group camped in an open field, he seriously considered leaving and traveling the rest of the way on his own. At the very least, he'd be able to take Shana, Rose, and Haschel with him. However, this idea did not appeal to Shana or Haschel, who thought it best to stay together and come into Bale as a group. And so the journey continued.
Slowly, they made progress heading north, Albert and the commander in the lead, chatting away constantly about how to move forward with the nation. Both men seemed eager to begin the healing process, the nation once again becoming a strong, unified Serdio.
Dart found himself incredibly bored every day, forced to listen to the two leaders talk either on the road or in towns, and unable to practice as a dragoon thanks to the many nights in random inns. But the real challenge came when they arrived at Lohan.
As they came to the city gates, wide open and unguarded as usual, Albert, the commander, and the two Sandora guards rode straight in. Immediately, they began fanning about, waving to the joyous people who'd obviously already heard the news about Doel's death. But Dart stopped and watched, just outside the gate and unwilling to take one more step forward. He sensed the others around him, waiting to see what he would do, and his heart pounded loudly.
Before him lay the city that housed many of Lavitz's final days. A meager map unfolded in Dart's mind, highlighted with the places that had become the most important to him: the inn, the tournament tent, and the clinic. Suddenly, he wasn't so sure that he could manage walking around this city without Lavitz. The memories flooded back to him in a rush that he wasn't quite prepared for, and he scrambled for a way out.
"Dart," said Shana quietly beside him. It wasn't much, but he grabbed onto that sound and pulled himself back to reality. Turning to her, he shoved away his own thoughts and clung to whatever she was going to say, hoping that it wouldn't be about Lavitz.
"Do you want to camp outside the city?" she asked kindly. He thought he saw tears in her eyes.
Clearing his throat, he said, "Yeah. Doesn't make sense to waste the money on an inn anyway."
"I'll tell the king," said Haschel. "Where will you be?"
"North."
Haschel nodded and rode into the city, and Dart turned Luna right and headed north. It was the same direction that he'd gone the morning before his final match, the day that they'd gotten the news from Bale. As the grasses rose up to greet them, Dart glanced back at the city, noticing that the tent for the Hero Competition had been taken down, leaving little more than a pit where the arena once lay. It seemed strange, empty and barren as it was. It felt as if an entire sector of Lohan were missing. They rode in silence until the noise of the city had become a distant mutter, and all they could hear was the wind brushing over the open field.
Dismounting, Dart walked around several times to push the grass down to form a sort of floor, being sure to leave enough room for all four bedrolls and horses. A few minutes later, they were seated in silence.
Dart sighed; there was little for them to do out here, and the sun was still high in the sky. They had at least six hours of daylight left, and he felt a little foolish to be hiding this far from the city. Suddenly, a drink from a tavern in town didn't seem like such a bad venture. But he was kidding himself; he knew that he couldn't go into Lohan without breaking into a heap of sobs and hiccups.
"You guys can go into the city, if you want," he told Shana and Rose.
"I don't really want to," said Shana.
"Wouldn't be any fun by myself," muttered Rose.
Dart almost laughed. Rose wouldn't have fun even if she went with a whole dancing troupe.
"How long do you think it will be before we head to Tiberoa?" asked Shana.
"No telling," Dart replied. "It depends on what all the king wants to do."
"Lloyd could be anywhere by now," said Rose. "We should move quickly if we want to catch him."
"And yet..." muttered Dart angrily.
"We'll find him," Shana reassured.
Dart looked down at the grass pressed beneath him and plucked off a grainy head, rubbing it between his fingers. The more their journey west was put off, the more he thought about what it would be like to encounter Lloyd again. He remembered with perfect clarity those crucial moments on the top of Hellena Prison: Lloyd's silver hair flashing in the breeze, the flaming sword in his hand. Dart had imagined the scenario a thousand times over, inventing a million different ways that he could have saved Lavitz's life, and each of them ended with his sword pushed through Lloyd's dead heart. He wished that he could make that a reality.
But what would really happen when they found him? He'd fought Lloyd before, and been hilariously outmatched. Would anything be different the next time? The next time, I'll be fully transformed, he thought, relishing the idea of his full dragoon power being unleashed on Lloyd.
The grass in his hands suddenly caught fire, burning in an instant in the abnormal heat, crumbling into cinders. He shook his head at his lack of control and wondered if Lavitz would have done such a thing. He'd always seemed to have the greatest control of his magic, flowing through him effortlessly whenever he'd needed it. Dart recalled Lavitz's impressive performance at the barricade before Hellena and wondered if he could summon the same level of strength from his own fire. He held out his hand and summoned a ball of fire, drawing the gaze of Rose and Shana. But he ignored them and concentrated on the flame, willing it to burn hotter and hotter, and soon enough he could feel the heat pulsing on his skin. Not enough, he thought. I need more. He pressed forward, feeling the draw of his power and a sudden urgency to test his limits.
"Dart!" cried Shana, and he jumped. Looking up, he saw her gazing wide-eyed just past him, and he turned to see the stalks of grass behind him burning. The flame in his hand disappeared as he shifted his attention to the grass, reaching out and patting it between his hands to extinguish the fire. He felt a pleasant warmth as he grasped at the flames, and a second later, the fire was gone, leaving blackened stalks behind.
"What was that?" she demanded.
"I was... practicing," he murmured. "Seeing how hot I could get it."
"I could feel it from here."
"Good," he said simply.
"If you want to practice using your dragoon power," interrupted Rose, "you should practice precision over strength. See if you can control the heat's direction, not just its intensity."
"What do you mean?"
"Start with something simple. Make a ring of fire."
Holding out his hand once more, he summoned a flame and watched it for a moment before trying to manipulate it. He'd done it before, to a small degree, shaping his fire into a path, but this was different. He struggled, pushing the sides out with his will, ignoring the urge to reach out and try to physically pull it. Edges of the fire leapt out tentatively until he'd formed something reminiscent of a U, but then they heard someone approaching. At the sound of horses' hooves, Dart shot to his feet, letting his art falter to a simple flame, and prepared to hurl it at the trespasser. But with his new vantage point above the grass, he saw that it was only Haschel.
"Calm down! It's just me," he said as he swung off his horse. "I did you a service. You should be thanking me, not trying to kill me with a fireball."
"I didn't know it was you," muttered Dart, letting the flame dissipate.
"At any rate," replied Haschel, brushing the incident aside, "the king is satisfied with the sleeping arrangements, though not without some spirited arguing."
"You argued with a king?" asked Shana.
He shrugged. "One could call it that." He turned to Dart. "Practicing spells, are we?"
"Sort of."
Haschel's fingers flexed and a glint caught his eye as he glanced to Dart's hand. Except for his small display in the dungeons of the Black Castle, Haschel had not gotten to use any magic for fear of the repercussions.
Awkwardly, Dart offered, "Do you... want to... try?"
Flashing a smile, Haschel said, "You know, I haven't gotten to do much of anything with this dragoon spirit since I got it. Somebody-" he cast a glare over to Rose "-seemed to think that it would be too dangerous around the common rabble."
"'Common rabble'?" laughed Dart. "Come on, we'll start with something basic."
"Take it over there," said Rose, gesturing to the field. "I don't feel like getting electrocuted today."
"Sometimes, an occasional spark is good for you," grinned Haschel.
Rose glared at him, and Dart chuckled, dragging Haschel with him into the field.
The next several hours were filled with sly jokes, crackling air, and several patches of burning grass. Dart thought it amazing how easily Haschel could make him relax, taking him back to that free-spirited time when they'd traversed the wilds of the east. For the first time since Hellena, he laughed freely. All traces of his tremendous grief vanished for those few hours, giving him a reprieve that he hadn't known he needed. They avoided full transformations, being within view of the city, but Dart felt confident that Haschel would be able to transform whenever he needed to. It was an event that Dart was quite eager to see; no doubt, Haschel would move so fast that he'd be hard for any of them to track.
That night, as they slept under the stars, Dart was almost at peace. For the first night in many weeks of travel, they left no watch, contented to let the world be.
King Albert sat alone in his room, his hair loose and flowing across his white tunic. Before him lay an open book with empty pages, waiting to be filled with his experiences over the past couple weeks. But something in him resisted whenever he tried to put the pen to the paper. Something refused to give up his emotions.
Feelings were in no way foreign to the king, and he understood that they had their place. Often, he would get swept away in the logic of a decision and disregard his own feelings toward it, or sometimes the feelings of others. To help himself counteract this, long ago he had decided to keep a diary. Following in the footsteps of his father, Albert had forced himself to face his emotions by writing them down rather than ignoring them. In this way, he had come to appreciate them and the role they had in his life and his ruling of Serdio.
But sometimes they were harder to write out than usual. And tonight was one of those moments.
He had grabbed the empty book the day before leaving Kazas with the intent of recording every moment between his capture and his return to Bale, and now that it had come time to write in this musty room in Lohan, he found himself at a loss for words. It was a frustrating feeling, one that he had not experienced many times in his life.
Rubbing his hands over his face, he sighed before taking up the pen once more, dipping it in the ink, and placing it on the paper.
The 21st of April of the year 4156, Third Era. Albert, son of Carlo, King of Serdio.
He stopped. This was the easy part. Although few people in Serdio seemed to pay attention to dates and calendars, Albert found the entire concept fascinating. He was always sure to affix the date to the top of each page for posterity's sake. But now he faced a new challenge. Several potential phrases ran through his head: On this day, I was captured by Imperial Sandora; on this day, I gave myself up to Imperial Sandora to maintain peace; on this day, because of the siege from Imperial Sandora, I was taken captive... Nothing sounded quite right to him. He shook his head and turned the page.
The 24th of April of the year 4156, Third Era. Albert, son of Carlo, King of Serdio.
Just before sundown, the carriage arrived at Hellena Prison. I was escorted roughly to the top level, where I remained bound to a pillar, my body sore and dehydrated, my wrists raw from the chains.
He stopped again, finding himself unwilling to continue any further. With a sigh, he counted off the days in the book, leaving space for each day's venture, until he reached today. Once more, he wrote the date at the top of the page:
The 15th of May of the year 4156, Third Era.
Then furrowing his brow, he considered what to write. While his stuttering mind really wanted to simply record the facts of the day, he knew that this was not the most beneficial thing for him to do. Thoughts continued to rattle around in his mind, unbearably loud ever since their encounter with Emperor Doel. A terrible, deep-seated fear had been realized within him and brought to the surface in a rush of emotion on that day. He needed to understand what he was feeling and how this new information would affect him in the future. And so he took a deep breath and wrote:
I find myself at a loss for words to express the sorrow that lurks within my heart. Terrible news has reached me, only sixteen days past, that has brought to the forefront of my mind a circumstance that I had long hidden away. My heart trembles to consider the implications of this terrible truth: My father was killed by none other than his own kin. His brother, Doel, always so kind and generous in my memory, though in truth jealous of the throne, slayed the late King Carlo in his own chambers now two decades past. While some part of me, ignored for so long, had always considered this to be a possibility, the truth has now been placed before me with such clarity that it can no longer be disregarded. It is my sincere hope that, upon arrival in Bale, I may seek out my father's written journals and ascertain whether he detected any sign of this betrayal in his final days. Perhaps this will grant some lucidity to those mysterious events and some peace to my troubled heart.
And yet, in the midst of this pain of the soul, I find a small comfort, if it can be considered as such. I find that, after all my time with him, I have never felt as close to my friend Lavitz as I do now. While I was always able to sympathize with the loss of his father, I could never truly understand the force of wrath that overtook his eye whenever he spoke of Servi's death. And now, I fear that I understand. That same wrath overtook me as I faced my uncle and the evil he had wrought over the land and my people. To learn of his hand in my father's death awakened a madness in me that I had not known existed, and I at last was able to comprehend the bitter desire for vengeance that Lavitz had clung to for so many years.
Now, my only desire is that I could share with him this burden of knowledge, as I have done so many times in the past. After his death in Hellena Prison only three short weeks ago, I rediscover daily the void he has left in my soul. I fear that I may only feel it more acutely after arriving in Bale, but I know that he would never want his death to bring about any unnecessary or extended grief for me. I will honor his memory before all of Bale, and I will pray for his spirit daily, as I have each day since his passing.
However, I must now focus my attention on the present. My fate has shifted dramatically with the advent of Dart and his companions. In a short time, I must temporarily set aside the mantle of king and take up that of the dragoon, traveling with these people until our mission is fulfilled. I will not deny the wave of anxiety that fills me each time I consider leaving my kingdom in the hands of another, especially in such a delicate and formative time. However, it is apparent to me that whatever is unfolding is greater than the future of one nation. This is the most logical course, and I must not allow my own reservations to detract from a higher calling.
Surveying his work, Albert leaned back and wiped a single tear from his cheek. He missed Lavitz more than ever, and he wished that he could spend just a few more minutes with him. His death had been sudden and wholly unexpected, happening in the blink of an eye, leaving him no time for a proper goodbye. But, he supposed, that was the way of things. He had never had a chance to bid his father farewell, either.
Now, he had greater things to deal with. Much work would have to be done before he could leave Serdio, and he was uncomfortably conscious of the strain this would place on the others, especially Dart. Dart's desire to chase after Lloyd was intense, and it was something that Albert understood well. He, too, had watched Lloyd steal away his best friend's life, and Albert's soul demanded recompense. But he had learned enough from Lavitz to know that vengeance was not so important as to set aside all other tasks. He hoped, and often prayed, that Dart would be able to see that as well.
He worried often about Dart. It was clear that Lavitz's death had made a deep and lasting impact on him, but Albert feared that it had evoked an instability that would eventually lead to more pain. Recalling the evil that had spawned from the grief in his uncle, Albert hoped that Dart would find peace before his volatility opened to ruin.
But, he reminded himself, he had not known Dart very long. Perhaps the king had only perceived this instability. That meant neither that it was there nor that it would generate difficulties in the future. Dart was nothing like Doel, and Albert was confident that his end would be quite different.
He sighed once more and closed the book, his mind exhausted from the day's events. Lohan was a sizeable city, and the people were welcoming but abundant. He felt nothing but joy at explaining the promising future for the people of Serdio, but he had explained it so many times that the task was becoming tedious. He was grateful that they would return soon to Bale and Indels Castle and that their journey would come to an end. Perhaps then he could begin preparing for his new journey instead of merely planning it out in his mind.
"I suppose," he said to no one in particular, "it is time to retire."
Glancing out the window, he saw that the sun had set over the city, leaving moonlight in its wake. Standing, Albert shut the curtains before removing his boots and settling into bed. The next morning, they would be back on the road, and he would be one step closer to home. It did not take long for him to drift off into sleep.
Shana lay wide awake, the thick stalks of grass pressing into her back despite the bedroll beneath her. She cursed herself for her insomnia and wondered how long this would last. Ever since their excursion to Hellena Prison, sleep had been difficult to find most nights, and impossible on others. She'd tried to hide it from Rose, but was not so sure that she had succeeded, and now, she found herself there again. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Lavitz's limp body, his pale face, and Dart weeping next to him. If she ever managed to sleep, she found herself back in her cell in Hellena, greedy guards reaching for her through the metal bars, Lavitz and Dart standing helplessly nearby. In other dreams, she was in complete darkness, her mind screaming out for light. Sometimes, it wouldn't come, and she would wake with a jolt. But when it did, it exploded out from her in all directions, revealing the lifeless body of Emperor Doel, his empty eyes fixated on her as blood oozed out of his neck.
She wanted the nightmares to end.
With a sigh, she rolled over. Though she was grateful for the light of the moon and the stars cascading down from so high above her, she could not help but feel trapped in the dark of the night. She sat up and glanced about; the others appeared to be sleeping peacefully.
As quietly as she could manage, she stood and walked through the grass toward the west, the distant mountains little more than a dark silhouette against the night sky. She savored the sounds rushing around her: the rustle of the grass in the cool breeze, the distant hoot of an owl surveying the field for prey, the crickets singing an anthem to the moon. After many minutes of meandering, feeling the heads of grass under her fingers, she stopped and lay down among the reeds. Here, she was alone. But she wasn't quite sure that she truly preferred it that way.
The moonlight flickered through the swaying blades of grass as if it were seeking out her hiding spot. But she did not mind; the moon had always brought her a strange peace that she could never explain, and now she grabbed onto that light, so kind and familiar, and called it to her. A moment later, a glimmering blue orb appeared and hovered over her. Reaching up her hand, she played with it, pulling it out in fine tendrils and shaping it into swirls and various shapes. Absentmindedly, she spelled out her name, and then Dart's, and Rose's, and then Haschel's and Albert's. The names hung before her, suspended beams of light, and yet somehow incomplete. Reluctantly, she reached up and drew one last name: Lavitz.
As she stared at it, she thought back to their time in Lohan and saw Lavitz's gleeful face across from her at the dinner table. She remembered his uncontrollable sobs on that fateful day in the heart of the swamp after having found his brothers-in-arms slaughtered. And she remembered his anxious fervor on their way south as they charged to save the king. What would he think if he were here now? Would he have approved of what they'd done? Would he hate her for being the one to cause the death of an emperor?
The orb of light and the names faded away, and she slowly sat up to hug her knees, almost welcoming the darkness and its covering. Even though she understood all the circumstances surrounding the battle in the Black Castle, a heavy guilt had sat on Shana's chest every moment since. She felt like a murderer.
Lifting her head, she glanced around her. Although she knew she was alone, she felt something almost familiar nearby.
"Lavitz?" she whispered into the darkness.
No reply came. She sighed.
"Lavitz, I miss you."
Part of her felt silly for talking to herself like this, but another part believed that he was listening. Her lip quivered as she continued.
"I feel like I really messed up, and that I can't go back and fix it. But I... I don't want it to change who I am. I'm not a warrior, and I never have been. I'm not like you and Dart..." She swallowed as a thick lump formed in her throat. "I killed him, Lavitz. And I don't know if it was the right thing to do. I just..." A tear escaped her eye and she quickly wiped it away before taking several breaths to steady herself. "What if I'm turning into something horrible? What if, without you, we're all just winding down a path toward darkness? What if... what if we can never come back?"
The spoken words sent a jolt through her as she realized her own emotions. It was not the act of killing Emperor Doel that had her shaken; instead, she was afraid that she was becoming something evil. She was afraid that they had crossed a line and that they could never recover.
Completely overcome with the many weights pressing on her heart, Shana wept. As the tears fell, she covered her face as her body rocked back and forth, her mind reliving every horrendous moment from the past two months. She felt that she didn't understand anything that was happening around them, or even anything about who she was. If something greater was at work, what was her part in it? Was she the person destined to take the lives of others? If that was her fate, could she find a way to escape it?
For several minutes, the tears escaped, and the edge of her sleeve was soon soaked through as she wiped them away repeatedly. At last, the crying subsided, and she sat numb, hugging her knees, forehead resting on her kneecaps. Her breath was still ragged though her mind was empty.
Suddenly something touched her shoulder, like fingers wrapping around it. She jerked around, palms and fingernails digging into the earth as she scrambled to see who was behind her, but was left speechless when she saw no one there. Her eyes saw nothing but swaying stalks of grass. She stood abruptly to look over the field, a ball of light forming in her hand, ready to blind any potential attacker. But she was alone.
Her heart still pounding, she lowered her hand and relaxed, but only slightly. Was she going crazy? A hand had touched her shoulder; she was sure of it. And yet, nobody was nearby. She listened intently, but heard no movement. But... maybe...
"Lavitz?" she said tentatively.
Silence returned to her, and she sighed. Maybe she really was going crazy.
Sniffing, she rubbed a hand across her face. Somehow, she felt better having cried, and yet nothing had been returned to her. Her innocence, her security, and her peace of mind were still far away.
"Thanks for listening..." she whispered into the void before her. As she turned to head back to camp, she heard a distant rush of wind and jumped as it ran past her, buffeting her with the scent of roses, tossing her hair about and pushing down the grasses next to her.
And an instant later, all was still.
It could have been a fluke, or some incredible coincidence, but as Shana walked slowly back to the camp, the smallest of smiles lifting the corner of her mouth, she chose to believe that it was something more.
Author Note: Happy New Year! I hope you enjoyed starting off your 2020 reading this chapter. This is a difficult interlude between discs, and I apologize for how long it took to get this up. Once again, I request your patience as I continue to make sure each chapter is up to code.