The Sanderian mage was unsure if she preferred the silence over a conversation with the blonde recruit. They had searched most of the camp without saying much after introducing themselves. Their sporadic discussions centred around the following spots to look for Elsword. The night had long since fallen when they reached the main entrance to the camp.
The station at the base's main entrance was the only place left to ask about Elsword's whereabouts.
"What if he ran away?" Aisha asked as she eyed the entrance that he was seemingly set on ignoring. "He didn't look strong enough to wave a sword around."
"He was strong when it mattered," Wyll answered, putting his hand over his bandaged arm. His eyes finally set on the entrance, and he let out a long sigh. "If I were him, I would run, but…I can't."
Aisha tilted her head at him. "Are you too far away from your folks?"
He gravely nodded. "My older brother is all I have left; for better or worse, this is his new home. I've got to adapt to it, too."
The mage blushed, suddenly realising she had asked something out of line. "Dear El, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
He made a hand gesture as if to dispel her worries. "No, no, you couldn't have known, Aisha. It's okay. Let's ask the guys at the entrance if they saw him go out."
The mage's eyes widened before her gaze sank to her feet. Wyll did not know what she had done, but those knights did. They would expose her crimes to him. "I think you should go ahead. I can wait here."
The blonde's gaze narrowed. "Did those guys bother you? You know you can talk to the Captain about it, right? He'll discipline them. This is no place for harass—"
"No! It's nothing like that. I just…" Aisha interjected, only to lose the will to continue to lie by omission. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she took a deep breath. "I hate this," she mumbled before she found the courage to look Wyll in the eye. "But I guess you're owed the truth."
She paused, only growing more anxious as she noticed the confusion in his eyes. He was waiting for her explanation, and she had said too much to simply avoid the topic at this point. After spending an hour in the medical ward earlier in the day, Aisha understood how serious her actions had been.
The handful of healers the base could afford were barely novices from the Church. They were very ill-equipped to deal with even minor injuries. Orpheus, in particular, proved to be quite a difficult patient to keep alive. The worst part was that – because he was the highest-ranked knight among the critically injured – his treatment often came at the expense of others. Aisha had seen two knights covered with white cloth and carried out. For the first time in her life, she lamented turning down Mathi's help when they met in Hamel. He would have saved the lives of most knights here; she was sure of it.
"Your brother, Liam, got hurt because of me," she softly confessed.
His gaze widened in shock at her words, but there was no explosive anger, disdain, or hatred. At least, not yet.
"What did you do, exactly?"
"I electrocuted him on our way back to base," She explained slowly, painfully. "I wanted to go back to the Tree of El because I need to research the El Shard. It's for an important project of mine. I need to get it done."
Her heart sank when she saw the first sparks of anger change the glow in his eyes, but he did not lash out at her even then.
"But, why would you resort to that?" he asked her, his tone a bit harsher than before. "We could've all worked something out if you had said something. I was still at the gate when—!"
Wyll was on the verge of screaming at her, but he bit his tongue as his calm expression fully transformed into a scowl. The wave of anger that had drowned his expressive chocolate gaze subsided, leaving only a hint of grief in its wake.
"Just…" he softly said. "Tell me why you did that."
She had no good answer for him. There was no way to twist the truth into something less hurtful. Wyll was hurting enough, and she could understand why, to an extent. Though the Landar family was huge and seemingly very close with each other, they often were a family in name only.
'It must be nice having siblings you're this close to,' she thought as a thick silence between them settled in.
"Why did you electrocute my brother?" Wyll insisted, breaking the silence. His tone was even calmer, but there was no mistaking his new attitude. The blonde's cold gaze set on her like his brother's sapphire eyes had looked at her from the beginning.
"The truth will probably make it worse for you," Aisha warned him. She set her hand on the middle of her chest, trying to stop the sinking feeling in her heart. "I'm sorry about what I did. I truly am."
"Nothing you say can hurt more than what you've already done," Wyll hissed. "Tell me why you did it."
Aisha tried to find some kind of gentleness or understanding in him, but he offered her no such thing. Remaining silent or evading the question would make his anger worse.
"Asking anyone to help me with my research was the last thing on my mind," she finally answered. "I didn't think your brother would've tried to help me, even if I had asked. He was rude. And, look, I know I'm not wanted here, so I'll leave as soon as my sentence is over."
"I see," he noted as his gaze lowered. He pondered something silently for a minute before he looked at Aisha again.
"So, are you helping me out just to get your sentence over with?"
She frowned at his question. It sounded like he assumed she had no remorse.
"Wyll, I'm helping the healers out because that's part of my sentence," she answered before combing her braids behind her ears. "But I offered you my help because I wanted to."
His gaze briefly widened, softening the stern expression on his face before it returned to his Liam-esque coldness.
"I'll escort you back to your dorm," he offered her. "It's getting very late."
He walked past her, expecting her to follow immediately, but she stayed behind. Wyll was quick to notice her absence and turned around. The torch in his hands cast heavy shadows on his face, making it harder for her to tell how he felt.
Aisha looked one last time towards the gates that were only visible because of the torches laid to both sides. "You're not going to continue looking for Elsword?"
"I will do so without you."
She had expected that reply to eventually come, but it still stung. The mage gravely nodded as she caught up to the blonde and let him guide her back to the healers' dorms.
The night had just covered the sky, but Elsword's home was already pitch black, thanks to the surrounding trees. The red-haired boy often woke up in the middle of the night, and walking around the house was usually his preferred method of calming himself down after a nightmare.
Keeping himself busy by playing with Amelie did wonders to keep Elsword's darkest thoughts at bay. Even so, he worried about the mysterious sickness that had befallen Elias after he had failed to use a healing spell two days ago. The blonde boy had gotten better since, but Seris had remained strangely anxious.
Elsword drew closer to the master bedroom, somewhat surprised to see a sliver of candlelight slip out of the half-open door. He stopped to see if Seris needed anything to care for her son. Instead, he heard Seris talking with Owen through a communication orb. Elsword sat down, his back leaning on the wall and began to listen to her conversation.
"I doubt it," Owen softly said. "The prisoner isn't really human. He's a corpse fused to Nasod machinery. Nothing we do can put him down for more than a few minutes. I'm sure all the rest are just like him."
"I doubt they're immortal. Golems and the undead have a control gem. Nasods must have something similar."
"That's what I thought, too. Unfortunately for me, the prisoner has more oil than blood in his veins. I can't find the control stone, so I've left the matter to the Steel Crosses."
"Oh, so that's why you got sick. Think of our son first before you flaunt that power again."
Owen sighed. "The Steel Crosses we're with insisted that I use my expertise, as they called it, to pinpoint where his control gem was. I hate—"
A fit of coughing came from the other end of the line. It was so loud and gurgly that Elsword wondered if Owen had spat blood.
"I know you hate using your power, but…Are you sure that our son will be safe?"
Owen fell silent, leaving Elsword wondering if it was because he had grown too weak to speak. The sound of a cork popping briefly interrupted the eternal silence.
"I can ask Lady Artea a favour if they start asking you too many questions," he finally said. His tone was firm, full of life. Perhaps he took a recovery potion – a miracle remedy that healed most ailments.
If only Elsword had one when…
Elsword tapped his head against the wall, trying to physically erase his dark thoughts.
"I need to borrow half of her healers since all of ours are overworked or injured themselves," Owen continued. "That's why I'm heading back. I should be at the Earth Temple in two hours."
"You'll be back in Velder in two hours? Are you on an airship?"
"Not just any airship." Owen chuckled. "We're on the Ignition Caligo."
"Wow, that brings back memories," Seris sighed. "Is it still the fastest in the kingdom?"
"Of course it is, thanks to you."
"Oh, flattery won't get you very far, Mister Felford," Seris said playfully before briefly pausing. When she continued, her voice was barely a mutter. "We all want you to return home soon, safe and sound."
Silence lingered on the other end for a long minute.
"You know I'd do anything to end this mess right now," Owen yawned. "I don't want the kids to grow up in a world as cruel as the one we grew up in."
"I know, Owen. You'll achieve that, I'm sure of it. If anyone can pull off miracles and bring hope to the kingdom, it's you."
"I won't disappoint you." Owen's quiet voice sounded hopeful yet melancholic. "According to the prisoner, they'll strike the outskirts tonight at midnight. I'm planning to round them all up before they slaughter the survivors of last week's raid."
"What's their obsession with attacking our poorest citizens?" Seris hissed. "They have nowhere else to run to! Those scumbags have no honour."
Hearing Seris swear was strange, but Elsword agreed with her. Those scumbags were as bad as the demons that–
Slam!
Those thoughts were useless. Lowe had told him to stop thinking about it, so Elsword wished to do it at any cost. He continued to softly tap his head against the wall, holding onto the Felfords' conversation and the pain to occupy his mind.
"Well, it might just be their twisted brand of irony. You hit the mark with your previous report. The prisoner swears that he's part of the Black Crow Mercenaries."
Seris groaned. "I had hoped to be wrong, for once. Whoever is tainting his legacy like that is sick."
"If you asked me," Owen's voice was down to a whisper. "I think Rod Ross and his faction are behind this. He may be a puppet king, but—"
"Owen, give me a minute."
"Sure."
Elsword heard her get up and scrambled to escape, but by the time the blonde woman looked at him, he had barely managed to get back on his feet.
He offered her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Lady Seris."
She crossed her arms, still looking at him disapprovingly. However, it did not stay that way for long.
"Dear El," she gasped, "your head is bleeding…"
"Elsword, are you alright?" Owen asked. "Seris, what's going on? How bad is it?"
"It's not too bad, but—"
"May I come in?" the boy asked. "I'd like to talk with Lord Owen."
"Of course," the blonde woman said as she ushered him in. "I'll patch you up in the meantime."
"I don't think I need that much," the red-haired boy admitted as he entered the room. "You said it wasn't that bad, right?"
"If we don't do anything, it'll get infected," Seris reminded him. "It won't hurt, I promise."
Once inside, Elsword first noticed Elias lying on one side of the bed. His cheeks flushed from the fever, but he looked to be in deep sleep. Elsword looked to his right and saw the communication orb on a small pillow on the desk facing the wall. It shimmered gold under the candlelight, and its sandy contents softly swirled around the glass as if it were alive.
The red-haired boy pulled up the chair and sat beside the orb. He had thought of what to say to Lord Felford before, but now, his mind went blank.
"Good evening, Sir Felford," he began. "Uhm, I'm sorry for eavesdropping. I really shouldn't have, but I couldn't sleep and—"
"It's alright," the commander reassured him on the other end. The sand within the orb stirred up and down at the pace of his words. "Don't go talking about it to your brothers-in-arms, though. Everything you heard is only privy to some captains and commanders."
"Ah, well, about that." Elsword shifted in place, struggling to get his words out. He had thought about telling his plans to the head of the Felford household, but now he hesitated. He could not ask that now that he knew the Felfords were a military family.
Seris had begun to treat his injuries using magic, perhaps, because instead of any sting, he only felt a comfortable warmth on the back of his head. Then came the cool touch of the bandages. It could almost lull him back to sleep. If only the nightmares went away…
"What's the matter, Elsword?" Owen asked with a hint of genuine concern peeking through the buzz of the sound transmission.
"I, uhm, I don't think I have what it takes to become a knight," he admitted. "I haven't slept much because of the nightmares. I'm too weak, Sir Felford. I'm sorry for wasting your time. I can't put into practice anything you taught me."
"What did they do to you?"
Owen's tone was stern but different from how he talked with his wife over military matters. Elsword could not quite put his finger on what the Grand Commander was feeling only through his voice.
"It was my fault," the boy lowered his head, urging the familiar sting of tears to go away somehow. He did not want to wake up another day with puffy eyes. "It was all because I was weak. I can't be a knight."
Before he realised it, his tears and words were pouring out of him, uninhibited. He recounted everything. Elsword could not remember anything that happened after they reached their destination, but his nightmares filled that gap with horrific visions that all seemed very real.
A seemingly eternal silence settled in, only sporadically interrupted by his sniffles. Elsword had grown more comfortable accepting Seris' motherly embrace when he could not calm down alone. Today was no exception. He welcomed her arms and let his tears fall over her shoulder.
"You shouldn't have been exposed to that, Elsword," the blonde woman softly said. "You're not weak at all, my boy. You survived all of that. You did everything you could."
"I should've done more," he muttered, wiping his tears. "I should've done more to deserve having you as…"
'As my family,' he thought but could not say it. Elsword still had his sister, wherever she might be. Elesis was his family, and he should never forget that.
"Elsword," Owen called his name; he seemed serious but gentler than when he had asked him what had happened to him. "You did more than I did when I encountered demons for the first time. Those monsters have no mercy, so you did great, fighting back and coming back unscathed. Every moment spent training you was not a waste of my time."
"But I was wea—" Elsword wanted to protest, but the head of the Felfords did not leave him such a chance.
"If you were weak, you would've died." The waves of sand rose so violently that Elsword thought he had perhaps angered the man, even if he still spoke calmly. "Demons have no prisons, do you understand? They don't capture the enemy like we do. They exterminate them. You lived through that. You're more than deserving of being a knight and having us cheer you on every step of the way."
"I don't want to do this anymore," Elsword breathed out, feeling a knot in his throat at Lord Felford's words. "I've had enough. I don't want to be a knight."
"How much of our conversation did you hear?"
Elsword blinked at the sudden change of topic but explained what he had overheard.
"I will be honest with you, Elsword," Owen said; his tone was calm but firm, similar to Lowe's. "The battle against the Black Crows is not an easy one, and the Crown is getting desperate to replenish the Centurion Guard's ranks. They may use old military laws to bring all known deserters to the frontlines. If you don't come back to base, you'll be on that list sooner rather than later."
"What?" Elsword gasped. His voice quivered. "W-Why? I-I'm not a knight yet."
Owen took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter to them, Elsword. You're officially part of the El Search Party, and that's good enough for them."
Elsword felt a shiver run down his spine. Should he face the Black Crow Mercenaries – those immortal and cruel soldiers – Elsword knew he would die.
"I don't know Sir Evans personally, but," Owen continued, breaking the tense silence, "I've heard he's not the kind of man to put his recruits on a battlefield. As much as I'd like to, I can't afford to do the same for every new batch of men the Crown gives me, regardless of their age."
"I understand," the boy finally capitulated. There was no escaping the constant reminders of what he had gone through. "I'll go back once Elias recovers. I'm worried about him. Would that be okay with His Majesty?"
"I'm not sure, but I promise I'll do everything I can to keep the Crown's eyes off you," Owen vowed. "It's very noble of you to take care of Elias, Elsword, but take care of yourself first, okay?"
"I…I'll try, Sir."
"Let's start with a good night's rest, hm?" the Grand Commander suggested. His tone carried the impression of his soft smile – one that Elsword could picture very clearly in his head.
"Yes. Good night, Sir Owen."
Ainchase was returning to the base with a bag full of medicinal herbs he had picked up around Lake Noaz, about a twenty-minute walk from the village. He looked around the different cottages that stretched along the road that would eventually lead him to the El Search Party's base. The Celestial wondered which one Elsword lived in. He doubted the boy lived in the village's square, but perhaps he was mistaken.
Today marked a month since Elsword was last seen in the base. Truthfully, the priest had hardly any time to worry about him until now. He had been swamped rebuilding the barriers around the Tree of El, recording many of the moribund knights' last words, and performing their funerals. His busy schedule should have also meant that he saw the strange demoness less. Alas, she persistently managed to approach him in hopes that he would accept another spar against her. So far, she had not succeeded, and he planned to keep it that way.
Ainchase stopped in front of one of the houses. It was a bright red wooden cottage right at the foot of the hill. There seemed to be no one home. The Celestial wondered if it could be the boy's home, but perhaps that would have been too great of a coincidence.
'If he doesn't come back today,' Ainchase thought, 'I'll have to find a way to drag him back.'
He heard the leaves rustle behind him and turned to see the last person he wanted to see. With a few leaves tangled in her white mane, a girl emerged from one of the many bushes along the way. She had brought two wooden swords with her.
"No," he told her before she even thought about giving him one.
The Celestial fled, taking long and fast strides to put as much distance as possible between him and that accursed woman.
"Aw, come on!" she protested. Judging by her timbre, she had revealed her true form once more. "I'll leave you alone next week. Promise."
"I'm not as naive as your slave," he grumbled as he saw her catch up to him from the corner of his eye. "Your promises mean nothing."
"How impertinent of you, your Holiness!" She feigned her outrage with a shocked gasp and dramatically placed her clawed hand over her generous chest. "To doubt the trustworthiness of a humble, delicate maiden like myself! I'm wounded."
"You? A humble, delicate maiden?" Ainchase could not help but roll his eyes at her. "If there's any truth to that at all, you're a disgrace to all demonkind."
"I'll have you know that not every demoness is as lustful and proud as a succubus," she pouted. "Nor as strong as a Garen woman. I'm being honest. I would never dream of sinning in front of a holy man."
"You have sinned plenty already. You'd be better off repenting and leaving me alone."
"Oh, forgive me, Friar, for I have sinned." She put her hands in prayer, but her awkward grasp on the weapons she had brought as she feigned to pray only made it more apparent that she was mocking the faith. "Allow your humble Daughter to indulge one last time in the sin of battle before seeking true repentance in the eyes of the goddess."
"Battle itself is not a sin," he grumbled, hoping she would stop talking before he seriously considered accepting to spar just to shut her up. "Being a demon is your biggest sin. I can't forgive that, even if I was crazy enough to consider it."
"Well, that settles it, then. I have nothing to repent for!" The demoness beamed before she offered him a wooden blade once more. "Come on, priest. I know you had fun last time, too. You'll grow old and grey if you're all work and no play."
Her knowing grin and her stupid rhyme were enough to make him frown. "I refuse."
"But why?!"
Ainchase knew he should ignore her, but she made it unreasonably troublesome with her carefully calibrated nagging that always managed to get under his skin. The demoness was set on following him around, and in her adult form, no less. His divine energy was recoiling in disgust within him. Her demonic energy was powerful, so much so that he had half a mind to indulge her only to kill her in the end.
Thankfully, she had grown quieter, and her foul power slowly waned. Whether that was due to her so-called seal or her conscious effort to hide her nature, Ainchase welcomed it regardless.
"Celestial," she called him calmly, softly. For once, her voice held a level of maturity proportional to her age. "Aren't you curious to know why you can fight like a demon?"
"I don't fight like a demon," he coldly dismissed her, though his jaw clenched at her words. He had wondered why he had enjoyed the fight as demons did, but hearing her call his way of fighting similar to a demon's was downright insulting.
"I doubt you truly believe that." She sighed. "But I suppose you don't have to worry about it for long. You're returning to the Tree of El next week, right?"
"Yes," he cautiously answered, wondering where she wanted to go with that conversation. Hopefully, she would not bring her childish pleas for a fight to the forefront.
"Well, once you return, I probably won't even bother talking with you like this," she added wearily. "I have a good sense of self-preservation, believe it or not."
Ainchase paused at the strange sincerity in her words. He stopped and turned towards her. His emerald gaze met her unique arctic eyes as she stopped and turned to face him. He had a hard time believing what she was implying.
"You and I don't look all that old, but," she continued as she briefly averted her eyes from his inquisitive stare. Her long, delicate eyelashes almost gave her regal face a vulnerable look, especially with how she lowered her head at him. "I'm sure we've both lived enough to know a few secrets about each other's kind. It's not that difficult to see why I'll start avoiding you, is it?"
When she looked back at him, Ainchase surprised himself by noticing how the rare sunlight that filtered through the leaves gave her gaze a neon-blue hue that resembled the sacred glow of the El. Her faint smile was tainted by the dejection overflowing from her eyes, but it hardly affected her oddly captivating looks.
"Do I have to spell it out for you, Celestial?"
He remained silent. The demoness continued.
"Your goddess can mould you back to normal, can she not? The only thing she needs is for you to be right next to her little gem for a long enough time."
"I thought you had something more interesting to say." He scoffed. "How can you call something so obvious a secret? Of course, the goddess strengthens me; that is precisely why I'm her envoy."
"It isn't that well-known among demonkind," she mused. "And, if we really think about it, our people have hardly spoken to each other. You don't even bother to face us honourably in battle and talk with your weapons."
The white-haired demoness turned around and continued her way back to the base first. The breeze that made the trees sing along its calm rhythm combed some locks of her hair to the side, revealing parts of her contract mark. What it mostly unveiled, however, were the two vertical, parallel scars on her lower back. He looked at them, noticing how messy they truly were. Someone had torn her wings off her. Though he felt no sympathy for her, he could easily picture the excruciating pain such an injury would provoke.
The demoness stopped for a moment and looked over her shoulder. Her fascinating eyes caught him staring at her scars before Ainchase met her gaze. "If I were you, I would try and correct that by giving my targets one last fair fight."
Before he could remind her that scum like her had no true concept of fairness, she leapt away, vanishing from his sight. This new facet of hers was entirely foreign, unexplainable. The more he thought about it, the more his mind recalled her eyes, her scars, and the strange allure he had momentarily seen in her. It was a conundrum, and he dismissed it entirely. While the goddess had been silent during his last few visits, she would surely answer next time.
Ishmael would clear his mind and help him see through the demon's strange game of deception.
The silver-haired priest heard a set of steps behind him and turned around to see who it could be. His expression lit up with a gentle smile as he spotted the red-haired boy he had thought about looking for before the demoness ruined his day.
"Good morning," he warmly greeted the boy, "How have you been?"
The boy looked up to him, and although he smiled back at him, his smile did not quite reach his eyes.
"Good morning, Friar," the boy greeted him back. "I've been doing really well."
The red-haired boy could not have fooled anyone over the age of two with his lies, but Ainchase could pretend otherwise. He figured it would be an excellent way to nudge the boy back on the right path.
"Is that so?" Ainchase asked. "I'm glad to hear that. You have so much potential that some wondered where you had gone."
The boy tensed at his words. "Oh, they did?"
"Of course. You're almost as strong as a knight."
Elswoed paused for a moment, growing increasingly pale. It was an odd reaction, but Ainchase trusted that he could use some of his power on the boy to keep him from running away from his destiny.
Luckily, Elsword decided to run in the right direction.
"Well, I'm gonna go, like, uh, running!" he sputtered as he dashed past him. "I can't keep making them worry! See you, uh, see you at the base!"
