Yea! Another chapter posted up!
Things have been going good lately. Don't forget to check out the Yahoo! groups we have! It's under my profile.
Review replies:
Vincelia Valentine: Yeah, I miss Xellos and Filia being together too! Though I understand you wanting sooner chapters, I'm afraid once a month is my max until I start having a good chapter buffer. I used to have 10 chapters written in advance! Can you believe it?
Emmyjenny: Hmm. Well, it's not Amelia or Zelgadis as Azrael said that Xellos couldn't be told who they were, because he couldn't be told anything he didn't already remember. He remembered Amelia and Zel, so that wouldn't have worked, unless Azrael were lying. :-) I am definitely considering putting in the next chapter about Filia thinking about her mace. And that's a good idea, that some tension might be released if she flew around. I'm not sure what she would hit, though! Maybe Iyzeka would stand still . . . And thanks for the congratulations! Here's to the merry winter season! PS: the sage is . . well . . . she's a priestess Xellos knew when she was alive. And she went to Lina and Goury's wedding.
Ryu-Zero-Rei: You got it! Damn, you're just too smart. Stop being so smart! If you keep this up you're gonna figure out all my plot ideas, lol.
Mistress DragonFlame: Where do souls go when they leave heaven? I'd say Miami. Just kidding!
Mwafwa: I think Zelgadis was never this upbeat. And you know it's bad when the Angel of Death is happier than you are. ;-p
CrazyElfPaladin: You scare me! You gave another review! The afterlife is definitely more real in some ways. As to the real names of the angels . . . names have power! Can't go around giving away that, tisk, tisk! Maybe I will . . . but only at the end. (kisses)
Tbiris: At least it's not "fascinating". You silly Vulcan. :-p
Ryoko: Actually, I did get a lot of inspiration from "What dreams may come" when it comes to the descriptions. Also, from the Chronicles of Narnia, and a Star Trek book, if you'd believe that. Vulcan, by Diane Duane. But, no, nobody is going to "turn into" anyone else. Though there is a bit of the alteration, he's able to recognize people he actually knows. Thanks for the support! (winks)
Dimitri Plabato: Oh, my! Well I love you too. :-) Hope you like this chappy just as well!
Legona: Thanks, hope this pleases too!
Icecrystal48: wow, what a long review! I really love having long reviews, don't worry, keep it up! You sure read it fast, man, even I can't read it that fast. I am so pleased that you think it is worth the 50+ chapter read. I am definitely planning on finishing. This baby is a part of me, on many levels. I think the problem with fanfic writers is that they only write when they are really pumped up. You have to keep pushing yourself (much the same way with professional novel writing. After all, you can't sell an unfinished novel.) I am looking forward to your future reviews, and don't worry about giving long ones! Those are the best kind!
Sith Knight Galen: You too? Too many smart people. (kidding) I'm actually glad that some people are figuring me out. Though that might mean I'm being too obvious. What do you think? As for Iyzeka, yeah, she's kinda like that. She is still very chaotic, possibly the most chaotic creature to be created in a while. Don't forget, though, that sometimes exterior behavior could just be a front. (winks) happy you liked this, and happy you realized who the "priestess" was. Hope this chapter also satisfies!
YueMichiruNaragisawaMiko: well, hello there, Miko-sama! Glad to see you back! If heaven made you cringe before, this chapter is pure torment! Let me know what you think of this one! And once again, good to see you!
Alright, everyone. Merry Christmas, happy Kwanzaa, and happy Hanukkah, and cheery Winter Solstice to all! Unfortunately, there won't be time before Xmas to make a "Christmas" chapter. But perhaps this chapter will give you a spiritual feeling never the less.
Love one another, love your family and friends, and love the strangers around you. You never know who might be an angel, or who might need you to be one for them!
--Ukky
-:(-(-(-)-)-):-
Chapter 49
Land of the Dead - Book Three
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L O O K I N G – G L A S S
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Filia watched the rain as she felt her tears begin to fade, the shuddering breaths slowing with each cooling inhale of the misty air. Eventually, she thought, emotions empty and sallow, you have to stop crying. Right?
Thunder struck just as something soft and furry brushed up against her leg, and the dragoness jumped away, yelping. "Eek!" Turning towards what had touched her, she found the large marmalade cat from the day before gazing at her, before it began to lick its brilliant white chest. "Oh. It's you, kitty."
Sighing again, the dragoness cast her eyes about the wild storm dancing beyond the window frame, the passion of the tempest juxtaposing the quiet emptiness within herself. The feline returned to running against her legs, and Filia returned to her inner struggles. "You have it so easy," she told the cat, hollow gaze captured by the rain and seeking solace beyond the walls. "You just eat, and sleep. And get love," she murmured, then frowned. "Funny . . . that a cat would be happy and find affection amongst Mazoku . . ."
The creature began to purr loudly just as a rumbling male voice startled her from below, "Hey, pretty lady, it all depends on the Mazoku you find. You should know that."
Looking around, Filia found only the cat, whom she leaned over to stare at. "Did you just talk?" she asked, tone brittle and wary.
The tom stared up at her with large jade eyes, then sat back on its haunches just as the voice spoke again, "I sure did, sweet-cakes."
With a heavy exhale of breath, the blonde knelt onto the marble floor in front of the tabby and stared at it. "Cat's don't talk," she informed it, only to watch its tail curl in amusement.
A low chuckle escaped from the cat, though its mouth never moved, and it went back to licking itself. "They do when they've been made into Mazoku. My name's Reginald, but you can call me Sweet Reggie, my delectable woman."
Brow rising incredulously, Filia leaned back and peered sharply at the animal. "You . . . were made into a Mazoku? So you're immortal? And you . . . can talk?"
"Yes ma'am. And I think you need some cheerin' up, don't you?" he informed her. "A pretty thing like you shouldn't be contemplating jumping out the window and ending it all."
"But I wasn't!" Filia exclaimed, then put her hand to her face. "I can't believe I'm being accused of attempted suicide by an undead cat that's hitting on me . . ."
"In any case," the deep-voiced cat moved on to cleaning his tail, "The lovely Lady Zelas has asked that you join 'er now if you're better. So I hope you're feelin' a bit more frisky. Mrowr." With that he began to saunter away, and Filia rose to walk barefoot a few steps after him.
"Hey, um, Reggie," Filia tried, floundering before she brought a hand to her mouth thoughtfully, "thanks. I guess."
"Ohhh," the cat began to sing in a bluesy fashion, "My baby done did me wrong, but that's okay . . ." As the tabby slunk around a corner, his voice continued to warble as it grew more and more distant, "Baby, come back, and you can keep on doin' it . . . I'd take your abuse any day . . ."
Filia turned to scan the darkening corridor, the surroundings less vibrant now that the cat had left her. "Time to go, then," she murmured, then took a final glance out the window onto the storm. I'm not going to break, she told herself, and felt surprise at her own resolve. Take me to Zelas, she thought to herself, and closed her eyes to step forward, hoping her intent would teleport her.
It's about time I stop being so selfish, the dragoness told herself just as a feeling of weightlessness came over her and her footstep landed. I have a duty to the Creator to save the world. Maybe it's time to start doing just that.
-:(-(-(-)-)-):-
The meeting room that Zelas brought everyone to proved to be a new creation of hers. Large with walls that curved into a perfect sphere, it gave the sensation of being within a gigantic balloon or bubble. The shimmering walls shifted through color mixtures like oil upon water shining in the sun. As they all sat around a round ebony table, Iyzeka's eyes were trapped by the swirling patterns along the walls, and she began to bounce excitedly. "Look at the walls, Val!" she told the boy next to her, and waited eagerly for his reaction.
To her disappointment, the teen winced at the moving surface and looked down at the table instead. "It's kind of sickening."
Just as Zelas sat down at one of the chairs, Filia appeared, then stumbled slightly, surprise coloring her features. "Oh," she exclaimed, "I guess it worked." The blonde then flushed at her interruption and sat down with them at the black table.
Iyzeka frowned at her, then pointed at the walls. "Pretty!" she informed Filia, and then slumped when Filia gave the patterns a 6nauseated look.
"Enough, Iyzeka." Zelas smiled at them, and the tiny demoness pouted before leaning forward to rest on the table. "We have work to do. And if we get done quickly, Valgaav and Filia will be able to have dinner. I'm certain they're famished."
The girl nodded miserably, thoughts spinning in her head. Why can't everyone be happy? Why did Master Xellos run away from Lady Filia? Why is Lady Filia sad when she should know he loves her?
She blinked upon feeling a soft hand on her back, patting her. Turning her head, she found a flushing Val pointedly looking away from her as he tried to comfort her. –Thanks, Val,-- she spoke to him telepathically, sensing his concern for Filia through the link.
"Mom," Val started, his deep voice giving substance to the fanciful environment, "I think it's time for you to tell us what you experienced."
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"What I received," Filia began, everyone watching her closely, "was a directive." Val frowned with concern as she took a shuddering breath and let it out. "The thrice we must wait means three times, we knew that. The days for years, we understood. But now I know that we must wait three times of ten. So . . . thirty years must pass," she finished, wide cerulean eyes bewildered and rather afraid.
An uneasy silence filtered through the air before the Hellmaster cleared her throat. "Well. That is an interesting obligation. Fortunately, due to the magic of this island and the two philosopher stone fragments we now have at our disposal, we will be able to do just that."
"What do you mean?" Valgaav asked, careful to remain polite even though he felt a strange tingling rushing across him at the knowledge of what they were going to be doing. He struggled to keep from shivering, golden eyes narrowed with the effort. This is important.
"What I mean," the aquette woman sighed as if heavily put upon, "Is that this island could make the years pass as days. Within a month of staying on the island, we will be thirty years into the future." A glass of wine appeared in her hand and she sipped from it with annoyance. "You'll have to forgive me," she added suddenly, green eyes snapping. "I am still annoyed."
This frightened the girls into semi-cowering, but Valgaav nodded in understanding, the odd sensations clouding his expression with doubt. "I sense," he admitted haltingly, "that we'll find our goal easier in thirty years. At the same time, logically Telgaln will have more time to come up with his plan if we do this, though." He shook his head, frustrated with how powerless he felt.
Nodding, Zelas mused thoughtfully, "Perhaps. Yet he won't know what has happened. The island will effectively disappear completely for thirty years. It might actually confuse him since he won't know when we will reappear, and his searches for you will draw nothing. We would catch him by surprise, wouldn't we?"
They all nodded, and Val rubbed at the goosebumps prickling along his arms. "Maybe. Hopefully. So, then I guess . . . what should we do beyond that?"
Zelas' piercing gaze turned to him suddenly, and the boy jerked back. "Val . . . you will need to train yourself for a fight. All of you. And let's not forget, if one knows oneself and one's enemy, one will always win the battle." Her eyes flickered to Filia then, who dropped her head shamefully. "Do you know yourselves as well as you believe? I think not."
Val blinked. "What?" he asked as his stomach began to churn violently, the swirling wall colors not helping his growing nausea. "What do you mean?"
His mother's face had paled, and Zelas stood to shake her head with disappointment and distaste. "You'll see, young Val. You'll see," her quiet answer sounded loud in the pregnant silence. "well, then. It's time to get things ready." Her chartreuse eyes pinned Valgaav's once more, before she finished with, "We'll wait for Xellos one more day. And then he'll have to leave his other astral self behind, because we will be in a dimensional pocket with its own rules of time and entropy."
The Hellmaster turned and began to walk from the room, leaving an unsettling quiet behind that rivaled the chaos Valgaav felt he had been flung into without care or concern.
He sat, staring at the table, knowing that what Zelas had said rang true, deep within himself. Why does Mom look so pale? What . . . what does Zelas mean?
It meant something, that much he knew. He was absolutely certain.
But what it could be escaped him in a way that sent shivers of irrational fear down his spine and an icy cold latching onto his chest.
To know yourself . . . to know your enemy . . .
If this isn't myself . . . If I don't know myself . . .
The thought was too disturbing to finish.
-:(-(-(-)-)-):-
E M P Y R E A L - F O U N T
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Mountain mist obscured a lush tapestry around him, as the sounds of liquid rushing and gurgling underscored an aria of forest birdsong. Xellos knelt before a large pool of sparkling fluid, watching the clear water cascade down from a wide, glistening crystal bowl. The source glowed unnaturally and reflected the light so completely that gazing at it pained his eyes.
Having this time to contemplate the heavens, Zelas' General and Priest decided that he felt truly discomfited by them. Everything that could physically affect him did so in quite the negative way. Beauty was agonizing, and sorrow cut into him with painful intensity. Emotions and his surroundings strove to damage him in such a way that he found himself ruminating over the dangers should a creature here truly attempt to harm him physically. Good thing that Meliael is looking out for me then. And . . . Azrael too.
He held aloft the simple-looking stone bottle the angel had given him. The container he had manifested had received a swift shake of her head, and her eyes hid knowledge from him he felt he was soon to discover. "Only a holy object can hold that which is holy." I wonder why . . .
Xellos decided he could probably guess.
Rising to his feet, he deemed this the time, and looked down at the pool of glittering nectar. "No time like the present . . . especially in the afterlife," he joked with himself, though the words soaked into the mists with little humor left behind. Let's get on with this.
His first step into the sanctified fluid felt warm, tingling. Trudging faster, pants sloshing, the second and third burned and stung, until he felt his skin blistering. Pulling himself along the outcropping stone that hung against the rock face, Xellos winced and gasped in agony, only a few more steps to the fount.
Just as I thought, he grimly considered as he finally reached the generous flow of sacred liquid that splashed down into the shallow pool. Finding it hard to stand in the water, he pulled himself out onto some flat granite, then let himself rest, panting from the pain. Wait . . . pain. He felt his heart leap into his throat, then paled since he'd never experienced the sensation before. I don't feel anything from the pain. No pleasure or surge of power. Just . . . pain.
Wanting to avoid any further consideration of what that meant, he instead studied his ankles and calves, stunned to find them whole and visibly unaffected. At least there is that. Now, I am leaving this accursed mountain as soon as possible. Glaring at the glittering basin from which flowed the spring, he pulled himself to his feet and weakly struggled forward. The fluid splashed onto him as he shoved his stone urn towards it, and he gritted his teeth, determined to not cry out at the agony that seared through his skin, the sensation worse than burning alive.
Burning alive . . . a nightmare image resurfaced with the sound of Filia calling his name, and he shoved it from his mind . . . yet the memory lingered, and didn't do justice to the horror of the holy fluid pouring across his flesh.
He pulled away just as his fingers began to uncurl from around the container, and found that it was full. Grunting, he sat again upon the oasis of rock to recuperate, and found with grim satisfaction that Mercy's device, though lacking a cork, spilled not a drop of the blessed fluid.
"It hurts, doesn't it," spoke her voice from behind him, and he twisted around to gaze at Meliael sullenly. Her blue eyes gleamed with amusement, so he simply turned away.
"Yes, it hurts," he whined, "are you happy? You have proof of how evil and twisted I am. Just get me off this rock so I can leave this damned river." Hearing himself, Xellos knew he sounded petulant, but a fearful anger permeated his thoughts.
"Sadly," spoke the floating angel, her wings beating slowly in the foggy air, "you have to finish it yourself."
Frustrated, Xellos stared into the water as the brunette disappeared. "This is ridiculous," he murmured to himself, a flash of desperation coming over him, and then, a tiny flicker of loneliness hungrily gnawing at his heart.
His reflection shone back at him from the calm pool, and a part of him seemed distantly surprised to see longing dwell within his own violet gaze. He felt . . . so alone. Especially in this place of sacrament and purity.
Filia belongs here, not me, Xellos mused suddenly, the sloshing and gurgling of the spring ringing loudly in his ears. He sighed, picturing her in his mind. When he looked again to the waters, his own reflection was gone, the mirror-like surface portraying a shimmering golden-haired woman, her laughing cerulean eyes staring into his own. "Filia," Xellos murmured, surprised, and the image vanished.
Concentrating again, he found he could conjure her form within the flat sheen of the pool. An overwhelming longing filled him at the sight, and without thought, he brushed his fingers along the surface. It was only after the ripples sent the image into oblivion that he marveled at the lack of pain.
If I think of Filia . . . and how much I care for her . . .
He rose, creating a form and figure in his mind so real that, closing his eyes, he swore he could smell her all around him. Blindly, he took a step forward, imagining her walking next to him. Filia, he told her image with the first splashing stride, I'm sorry I ran. I should have left you a note, he continued, the second step soaking his pants but without pain, his eyes still squeezed tightly shut. I miss you. I don't know what I'm even doing any more. But I promised Lina. And I owe her a lot. The timid steps sped more and more quickly, until he was sloshing through the pool, sightless but Filia's cheerful image filling his mind. I'll come back to you, he swore as her face in his head began to dissolve, and he tripped, collapsing onto dry land. I swear. Filia. I'm so sorry I left you. I . . .
He felt tears coursing down his face just as a hand touched his arm. "You got out," Meliael murmured softly, and easily pulled him further from the spring. "Good job, Xellos."
I broke my promise, Filia, he shakily rose to his feet with her help, and the angel gave him the dignity of leaving so he could wipe his face, then sit to stare into the waters, shuddering slightly before calming. Please forgive me, Filia. I never meant to hurt you. It seems I do little else these days.
Before he could drown in his despair, he filed it away, swiftly, efficiently; the same way everything was placed deep within his psyche, he acknowledged, chuckling softly without humor at himself. I really am a sorry mess. Then he frowned at his reflection, and clenched his fist. But I'm also surpassing my own expectations. I refuse to let this place destroy me. I refuse to let me destroy myself either.
Unfolding his legs, he swiftly stood once more and called out, "Meliael."
"I am here," the angel appeared, and smiled kindly. "Hey, you look better. How are you feeling?"
"Crazy," he smirked charmingly and took her arm, then grinned when she gasped in surprise. "But triumphant." He solidly looked into her eyes, and she met him with a far more somber stare.
"Careful, Mazoku," she told him quietly. "You are less, and more, than what you think you are."
He blinked, and nodded with surety, then murmured, "Yes, I know," as her words rekindled a memory that seemed a million years ago.
The angel's dark blue eyes studied him, but all she said was, "Do you really?"
-:(-(-(-)-)-):-
D E P T H - A N D - B R E A D T H
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There was no world but a stench of death and decay, and the endless waters, dripping, sloshing and shimmering around him. This was existence, this remained while all else vanished from his mind.
Did he have a mind?
He had vengeance. That he was sure of. He had anger, and pain. He didn't know why, or how, but he had them, and he could make use of them and receive his requital, create his future upon the bodies of his enemies and rivers of their blood.
That thought enveloped him instantly, and he relished the images of each of them, limbs torn, skin shredded and bathing in the viscous fluid that seeped from their veins, a sea of blood to replace the ocean around the world, yes, that was what he would create, a sea of blood ever more beautiful, and more permanent than his creator's . . .
In a tiny hole, dark and dank, he awoke, and sat up to look around himself. "Kendar," he whispered, a sensation of desperation and rage filling up the empty spaces that whistled barrenly within him, "come here.
"We are going to change things, Kendar," he told the silence, and knew without looking that the little Mazoku had arrived, frightened and fragile before him, as all should be, "we will subjugate them in such a way that they will never think of standing against me again."
In the black, empty cell, he cast a light to glimmer and reveal the earthy, foul, and fetid demon to him as he knelt, shaking. "Yes, my Lord. My King," he stuttered and vibrated in terror.
Telgaln laughed softly. "Don't you see, my little fly? They are already losing. They did their best, and I am still alive. Now they hide, behind that shield of theirs, upon their island, isolated until they creep out, like little mice, and I will be there, Kendar. I will."
"What," the creature shuddered but still spoke quietly, "what if they never come back?"
"Then this world is mine without a fight," Telgaln chuckled, and he felt his laughter fill and overflow the small alcove, so he laughed louder, and louder, until it overcame him . . . and then he stopped.
Kendar quaked like a child in a storm. "The other Mazoku may fight you, Master. They may try."
"Ridiculous!" Now the rage began to spin inside of him, sweeping up the walls of his empty soul and billowing from him in waves. "They know I am too powerful, they have nothing they could ever do to harm me! I am the most powerful being alive!"
At his feet, brown and gray stumbled into a crawling, vibrating mass ever smaller than before, yet still the insignificant thing spoke, defied him. "But-but not ever . . . Perhaps the most powerful now . . ."
This would not do. Not at all. Telgaln spat and hissed and kicked at the sniveling runt, and relished at the whimpering he drew from him. "What do you mean? How dare you think to challenge me? Who could have possibly bested me? Well, you slime, you filthy maggot? Tell me!"
Kendar sobbed, a weakling so worthless Telgaln considered once more destroying him to be done with it, but in the end he spoke his bizarre words of defiance. "Th-the Mazoku will never worship you even should you revive Shabranigdo, b-because . . . someone could still have destroyed you. If she were alive. Sh-she . . ."
Telgaln kicked at the lesser demon again, then began attacking the cavern walls, furious. "Is that what they think, KENDAR?" he heard himself screaming, and let the vicious emotions rise to a squall within him. "DO THEY THINK LINA INVERSE COULD DESTROY ME, IF SHE WERE MERELY ALIVE?"
The creature vanished before his eyes and he began to shriek, and howl. "I will NEVER BE DEFEATED, KENDAR! NOT BY THEM, AND NOT BY HER."
Revive Shabranigdo, his thoughts spun as he raged against his surroundings, I will be victorious! I will be the one to rule them all, not Shabranigdo, I can do it, I can, I could beat Lina Inverse, I could destroy them ALL, I can, I could, I . . . I can . . .
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
After the wail, he quieted, his mind empty again. Again . . .
"No," Telgaln stretched out across the cold, clammy coral ground, and let the illumination fade, and the walls fall into shadows. "They will bow to me. Even if I have to twist the threads of reality themselves to make the universe dance to my song."
And they WILL dance . . .
SHE will dance . . .
He laughed and laughed until he heard nothing but his own laughter in the darkness, and beyond that he lost all awareness of existence.
-:(-(-(-)-)-):-
B E N N U – I N – F L A M E S
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"I can do this."
Xellos stood overlooking a vast desert from high above, the land a burnished gold and the sky that spread overhead glittering like inlaid turquoise. He wasn't sure where the plateau they stood upon had come from, or how they had came to be upon it. They gazed out upon an ocean of sand across which ran a jagged wound, cutting deep into the earth from here until beyond the horizon, where his eyes could not penetrate.
Next to him, the angel stood, petite and shimmering in the sunlight, a blinding white that he could only glance away from, dazzled by her radiance. "Do you really think so?" the brunette smiled at him, and he laughed softly.
"I have to," he said, letting his eyes close against the light and feeling the warmth glow upon his eyelids as he threw back his head. "I'm going to win this." I've come so far. There's nothing that can stop me, he told himself, determined not to falter.
"Then I will have faith in you," she told him, voice smooth and gentle.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself alone, the wind sweeping across the mesa to toss dust high into the air. Shielding his eyes, Xellos looked at the broad mounds of sand miles below, sparkling in the hot sun, and made his decision. Right. Can't die in heaven. Not from falling, anyway.
He clutched his staff tightly, then ran towards the edge of the cliff, and with an intake of breath, launched himself into the air.
Envisioning himself soaring, he began to float upon the breeze, arms outspread and the hot sun upon his back. Slowly, the land below neared to him, and the behemoth gorge grew before him, a silver snake gleaming within it, revealing the river below as it reflected the sun for a moment – and then he passed it, and bent his legs just as he landed in a crouch upon the sandy hill.
Xellos could already feel himself beginning to sweat. He wasn't used to the sensation, and with a growl of annoyance, he cast off his cloak only to watch it vanish into nothingness. After doing the same with his gloves, he began on his journey.
Marching through the desert, the Mazoku knew not where he was going, or even if he was to find his goal at the end of the journey. The sun never moved, and always glowed with an all-encompassing fire that soon overwhelmed the world.
All of Xellos' existence was that flame, that thin, arid heat that seeped into his pores and soaked through him into his very core. He could feel the extreme temperature within himself, burning inside his mind and perhaps even his soul. If I have a soul, he mused fitfully after sliding down a hill of sand and landing painfully at the bottom, only to rise again.
As he forced himself to trudge along, he felt an indescribable thirst, his throat scratched and his eyes scorched by the reflection of the sun upon the waves of desert sand. Yet he continued to walk, lifting one foot in front of the other and leaning solidly upon his staff with each step.
Xellos wasn't certain when he fell and began to crawl, but he concentrated on just moving forward, his staff discarded behind him. It can't be far . . . it must be here . . .
He'd seen nothing . . . not a sign at all of life.
And still the blistering, unforgiving heat continued to bear down upon him, and still he crawled, more and more slowly with every laborious intake of breath, with every ponderous stretch of his arms to grasp the dirt and rocks ahead of him.
Please, he felt his mind reach out. Give me this. Bring the creature to me. I must see Lina . . .
Just as blackness began to dance at the corners of his vision, and his eyes shut against the haze, he heard a sound . . . the most beautiful sound he had ever heard . . .
It danced and darted into his ears, and with every wordless note from a paragon throat, it lifted him up, until he was blinking at the sun above him and enthralled by the song encompassing him.
The chorale melted into him, weaving and dancing, the paradigm of all music and song. The unparalleled splendor brought such immense emotion to his heart that he felt himself begin to sob at its strains, until he was so overcome that he knew one more moment of the immeasurable bliss would destroy everything that he was . . .
And then it stopped.
Xellos opened his eyes.
Before him spread a simple well, lined with stones shaped such as to allow one to sit upon broad, flat rock smoothed by wind and time around the mouth of the well. A wooden bucket sat upon the stone, a long, worn rope tied to the handle and trailing upon the dusty ground.
But what drew his attention and made him spasm in surprise from where he clutched at the ground was the brilliant, magnificent beast that flickered and burned before him in glorious flames. With eyes of liquid emeralds, it gazed at him, then spread its fiery wings to beat at the air. The bird raised its slender head above a long, golden neck and pranced upon thin, twig-like legs. A shimmering, flagrant heron, it drew nearer to him, and the fire appeared to lick across it. Xellos drew back from the heat, staring at the bird as it opened its mouth, spreading its beak wide to release the song yet again.
Stunned as the melody and harmony beat into him as if he were bludgeoned with the beauty of it, Xellos slid away, backpedaling upon his hands and knees like a crab, before pulling himself to his feet. "No more," he gasped, and the bird stopped.
Taking in deep breaths of the silence, the demon tripped and collapsed onto the stone seat encircling the well. "Please," he told the bird, and it cocked its head and blinked deep green conflagration at him, "no more, I beg of you," he gasped for breath again, "Let me," heart pounding and lips cracked, "rest."
Thus the crane fell silent, and Xellos turned to the bucket, then looked at the bird. He dropped the bucket into the darkness of the well, and heard a splash as it struck the waters beneath. Rope in hand, he laboriously began to drag the bucket back up, until it sat before him, filled with the most wondrous of fluids.
He drank, and as the liquid flowed down his throat, he blinked and his eyes were clear, and his throat no longer ached, and his limbs felt renewed. Xellos stared at the water, then at the bird whom stared at him. "After singing such a song," he told it softly, "you're probably thirsty too." With a sigh and a bemused smile, he dropped the bucket again.
Again he lifted it, brimming with water, and it splashed droplets into the air like jewels as he sat it upon the shaped stone before the heron.
It dipped its head, and Xellos watched it gracefully bend down to take a drink. As it drank slowly and did not rise from the drink, Xellos watched and wondered. "Bennu," he murmured, and the bird glanced at him with flaming emeralds, and he waved his hand. "Please, keep drinking."
But the bucket was empty when it rose its head, and the bird still peered at him expectantly.
"Eh . . ." Xellos frowned, then reached into his satchel and took out the stone bottle, before looking at it thoughtfully. With a disbelieving sigh, and with only the slightest of movements he overturned it high above the bucket.
To his surprise, a few droplets sprang from the urn to dance into the air, and the creature snapped them up with its beak, each one slipping down its throat before they could land upon the sand and be swallowed by the earth.
As soon as the last drop had been drank, the bird blinked at him, then opened its mouth. "Thank you," it spoke with a voice of masculine and feminine, and Xellos gaped.
"You can talk?" he marveled.
The bird nodded. "Long it has been that I have wished for a taste of the nectar. I have sang before this well since the beginning of time. Its waters are sweet, but nothing like that hope which springs eternal off the mountain."
Xellos could only peer at it, then place the stone vial back in his pack. "Well. I guess I'm glad I was able to help."
"You, stranger of darkness and deeds done in the most foul of night's embrace, you have done more than help me. Surely," it cocked its head again, "you have not journeyed all this way for nothing. Let me give you that which you desire."
He blinked, then looked down at his bare hands, smooth and healed after the draught of water where before they had been cut and bloodied by the stones and sand he crawled across. "I guess . . . I can only ask for a feather from your peerless form," he spoke softly.
"Very well," it murmured to him. "Xellos Metallium. Look well to yourself. Remember me," it neared to him, then reached out its head to brush its beak against his cheeks. "I have drank of your tears."
Xellos stared at the creature and touched his face to find moisture still there, then watched as the creature spread wide its wings and leapt into the air, beating fast towards the sun and vanishing from his sight.
As he gazed up at the blinding orb that hung above him in the cerulean sky, he realized that something danced down from it, a dark patch against the light. Slowly, ponderously, it drew towards the flat plane and the well, to land lightly across Xellos' lap.
He took up the gold and marmalade feather, marveling at how it shimmered like metal in the sun. "Bennu," he muttered. "Phoenix. Thanks."
"You are welcome, child," a sound carried across the wind, and Xellos gazed out over the sand, finding nothing there.
Sand crunched behind him, and Xellos turned to see Meliael standing quietly behind him. "You did really well," she said, then smiled faintly. "I'm proud of you."
"I thought," Xellos said as he rose to his feet to face her, "that I was supposed to battle it, or steal the feather, or something."
"Well then," she told him, and her smile widened. "Perhaps you should broaden your scope."
"Perhaps," Xellos murmured, then rose, only to have Meliael wave a hand at him.
"You've forgotten something," she told him, and smiled. "I believe it was one last gift."
Looking around, the demon frowned, then bit his lip and stared into the empty bucket. Within sat a rosy, round fruit, colored the hues of fire. He took it and felt its weight in his hand and rubbed his thumb against its skin, feeling its texture.
"You must be hungry," the angel told him, and he nodded.
"I guess I am," Xellos sighed, looking at the pomegranate.
Beaming, the brunette chuckled softly as he stared at the fruit. "You must have truly impressed the phoenix, Xellos. It's not often it gifts someone with one of its treasured fruits. If you eat it, you will feel revitalized." Her wide blue eyes reflected the heavens above, and Xellos felt the knot that had wrapped around his chest slowly come undone.
"Thank you, Meliael," he breathed, and dropped his eyes to the feather, and to the fruit. "I think I will."
He sat at the well and ate the fruit on the sandy plain as the angel stood guard at his back, and deep within himself, beneath all of the pain and loneliness, the fear and uncertainty, a bloom of peace began to grow, until it had spread throughout his form, down every limb and inside his heart and mind.
And he felt more whole than he had ever in his remembrance, and he stood to gaze into Meliael's azure eyes once more, at peace.
"Do you feel better?" she asked demurely.
He nodded.
"Then let us go." She took his hand, his other holding the glowing feather, and they vanished from the dusty desert, and the burning skies.
-:(-(-(-)-)-):-
