Since I have access to AI-imaging software (Dream), I'm thinking of creating images of all the major characters. Of course in doing so I'll want to do the characters from Suikoden VI as well. Would you guys like to see this? If enough people are interested I'll start a deviantart page or something and put them there.
Chapter One: Part Six
The lone boat docked in Niebieska Brama's harbor was a Zelant warship. When word had spread of the…incident, the warship had headed out to try and launch a rescue operation. When the crew arrived at the island, though…they found a bloodbath.
A chilling silence had swept over the town. No one spoke; the only sounds made were the soft sounds of weeping. The entire town was gathered at the harbor dressed in mourning clothes, creating a wall of people. Only the warship was docked in harbor; all others stayed out on the water in respect. With them stood Lord Benedict de Lancret, the thirty-seven year old lord of Niebieska Brama. Though he had been in the east trying to assist with the building conflict, he rushed back to his lordship seat as soon as he received the news. Though he was a man who dressed immaculately—his wine-colored hair loose down his back and his creamy complexion always perfect—and spoke in a lofty tone, and a curious melody seemed to follow him everywhere he went, he was naturally subdued this day. His pale brown eyes were full of sorrow, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.
At the front of the wall, surrounded by Zelantan soldiers, were the six legitimate heirs of King Franz standing in a row with their assists standing directly behind them. They were not dressed in mourning but in their military armor. It was a showing of strength by the royal family. Almost all of them wore blank expressions. The only one who did not look stoic was Denzel; tears were visible in his eyes and he was puffing out short breaths, as though he were on the verge of hyperventilating. Musashi watched his charge in his usual stoic silence, but there was a glint of worry in his eyes.
A shout came from the deck of the warship, and the crew pulled on the rope of a pulley. A platform raised, and everyone could see a dark blanket covering a form on the platform. It was not the first form lifted from the boat, but it would be the last. When the first form had raised and lowered, a cry of shock overtook the crowd. But with the ninth, there was silence. A quiet acceptance of their grim reality.
Below on the stone dock, eight tables were laid out in a row. Eight shapes covered by dark blankets. A ninth table had been carried out, and the dock crew had their arms raised towards the platform. They caught hold of the platform and helped to lower it. When the platform was the same level as the ninth table they carefully grabbed the form and shifted it onto the table. Then they motioned for the ship's crew to raise the platform back up.
Brendan broke from the line and quickly headed down to the docks, Yasmine training behind him. The siblings quickly followed without a word with their own assists. Benedict also moved to follow them. The dock crew quickly saluted as the royals approached. "Y-Your Highness!" one of the men squeaked. "Lord de Lancret!" He saluted Benedict.
Benedict only nodded mutely, folding his arms over his broad chest. He seemed to be deliberately refraining from speaking.
"We will identify them," Brendan said, his tone cold and professional. "I want to see the faces of our youths." His words had been carefully chosen; a showing of both stoic affection and a grim reminder to all of what they had lost.
"Y—Yes, Milord." The dock member hurried to the first table, which Brendan approached. The remaining royals dispersed down the row to see to the other tables.
The dock member grabbed the top of the blanket and drew it back with a shaking hand, revealing the face of an eighteen-year-old boy. His expression was peaceful but Brendan saw slight evidence of dried blood on his chin, and an open wound in his neck. There had been a visible attempt to clean his wound, but Brendan saw his blood-soaked shirt. He was stabbed in the throat.
"Darko Krieger," Brendan said, looking up. "The son and heir of Lord Reilly Krieger."
"This is one of His Majesty's recognized bastards," Sigrun said in low but grim tone at the next table. Her expression was still calm but her eyes affixed upon the boy on the table with a look of sorrow. "Barrett. He was one of the fosterlings." She moved to draw the blanket further back, but one of the dock crew raised a hand. "Your Highness, we recommend you not. This one…" the man swallowed thickly. "The ship crew said that his body was brutalized. T-They believed he was attacked by multiple assailants." Sigrun nodded in understanding and drew her hand back.
"Ritta," Denzel whispered at the next table, the tears more visible in his eyes as he looked down at his half-sister. Unmindful of the warning he drew her blanket further back and raised her left arm. The skin looked scorched. "My God…what did they do to you?"
One by one the blankets were drawn back, revealing the face of a dead teenager. Kion was at the last table and confirmed the last youth. "Milo Arbeit," he announced stoically. "The younger brother of Lady Sarka Arbeit, and a recognized bastard of His Majesty."
From the crowd, Erment and Gopal stood side by side, watching the proceedings in horror. "Oh God…" Gopal wheezed, covering his mouth.
"Butchers murdered those kids," Erment muttered, gritting his teeth. "Butchers murdered our siblings."
The captain of the warship then approached. He had a bundle tucked under his arm. "Are there any others?" Brendan asked.
The captain shook his head. "There were no others found."
"Where is Astraea?!" Denzel demanded. He started to advance upon the captain but Vahan grabbed his arm to stop him. "Where is she?!"
The captain slowly shook his head again, his expression turning more somber. "We…We did not find the Princess," he said softly. "But…"
The royal siblings gathered closer as the captain raised the bundle. He unwrapped it to reveal a satchel and a coin purse. The strap of the satchel was broken, and both the satchel and coin purse were covered in blood. The satchel also had a tear in it; like it had been stabbed. "We checked the contents, and—"
"They're hers," Sigrun said softly, nodding stiffly. "Those—Those are Astraea's."
"Give them to me," Denzel quietly rasped. He surged forward and pulled the satchel and coin purse out of the captain's hands. He hugged them tight to his chest and stepped backwards to stand between Kion and Vahan. Tears were still stinging his eyes but he did not shed them.
"Where did you find these?!" Philomena demanded.
"On the cliffside at the northwestern part of the island, Your Highness," the captain said. "Not far from his body." He motioned to Milo. "And—we don't have it yet," he added. "We're currently developing it. But we took a picture of the rocks below the cliffs and…they are also stained with blood."
"So Astraea must have fought side by side with Milo," Kion said softly. "And when Milo fell, Astraea was either thrown from the cliffs or jumped from the cliffs. She hit the rocks and…" he let his voice trail off but they were all thinking the same thing.
She was swept out to sea.
Before they could properly absorb this news, murmurs broke out from the crowd behind them. The royals turned to see the crowd part, and Gwenette brightened very slightly as a wave of blue-white robes approached the harbor. A woman in her fifties with dark brown hair in two pigtails draped over both of her shoulders led the group, her usually kind expression grim. Everyone knew who she was; it was Lady Norma, the leader of the Magic Guild of Honigmilch. She was closely followed by a tall man wearing a dark cloak covering his face and a boy of thirteen years wearing with dark blonde hair and dark eyes wearing a blue-white cloak. The man was Ernst, Norma's husband, and the boy was Ragna, their grandson.
Zelant proudly boasted of Norma and Ernst's accomplishments as they had been heroes in the Falenan Civil War over thirty years prior. There were rumors had Ernst had suffered under a curse as a teenager and that Norma had helped break his curse. Since she had eventually taken over as the Mistress of the Magic Guild, these rumors were easy to believe.
"Lady Norma," Brendan greeted her as the woman herself, Ernst, Ragna, and the rest of the Magic Guild saluted the royals. "We are honored by your presence."
"Hello, Prince Brendan," Norma greeted him respectfully. "Princess Sigrun. Prince Kion. Prince Vahan. Princess Philomena. Prince Denzel. It saddens me to see all of you under these circumstances, but the Magic Guild is here to offer aid."
"You have a Resurrection Rune, don't you Lady Norma?" Vahan asked. "It's a long shot, but maybe…?"
Norma smiled sadly at him and gestured to the rune symbol on her forehead. "I will gladly try."
It would be a long shot. It was commonly believed that when a person died, their soul did not immediately pass on to Heaven or Hell. Instead, their soul passed to the World of Emptiness; the plane between all three. The soul would spend a short time in the World of Emptiness before passing to the beyond. The link to the living world and the World of Emptiness was strong though, so oftentimes when someone died their soul could be called back to their physical body by a Resurrection Rune. The physical body though needed to be present for this to work. And once the soul passed to the beyond, it could not be called back.
But in cases of traumatic death—such as death on the battlefield—the soul was oftentimes too traumatized to be called back to the living world. When this happened, a Resurrection Rune was not strong enough to call the soul back to its body. With the nine youths, who all visibly suffered violent and horrific deaths…everyone knew that the trauma to their souls may be too much.
Norma stood in front of Darko's table and spread her arms. "Yell," she called out. A green rune symbol rose into the air, but just as quickly the symbol of the Resurrection Rune dissipated. The dock crew quickly checked Darko's body, but everyone else knew what had happened. The spell hadn't worked.
Everyone watched with growing dread as Norma moved from table to table, calling for the revive spell of the Resurrection Rune. One by one the rune activated, but one by one the spell dissipated. None of the teenagers laid out on the tables stirred. None of the teenagers laid out on the tables came back to life.
After the spell failed for Milo, Norma returned to the royals. Her face was a mask of sorrow as she swept into a bow before them. "I failed, Your Highnesses. Please forgive me."
"Grandma Norma, let me—" Ragna spoke up, but Ernst touched his shoulder and shook his head at the boy. Ragna lowered his head, but said nothing more.
"There is nothing to forgive, Lady Norma," Brendan told her, motioning for her to stand. "The trauma inflicted upon these children in death is evident. If you—the Mistress of the Magic Guild—cannot call their souls back, then I cannot imagine anyone else who can."
"Who did this?" Sigrun demanded as Norma stood up.
"We brought back what we could find," the captain said. Two crew members approached holding objects. The first stepped forward, holding a blackened piece of wood. "We found the remains of a still burning ship, Your Highnesses. We believe…that it was the ship Princess Astraea and the others were sailing in."
Norma examined the piece of wood closely, and ran a gloved hand along the side. "This was rune magic," she murmured.
"A-A Rage Rune!" Ragna quickly spoke up behind them. "They probably used Final Flame!"
"Hush," Ernst quietly admonished him.
"…My grandson is probably right," Norma said after a moment. "Final Flame would be strong enough to consume an entire ship."
"W-We—didn't find any other bodies," the captain said. "Besides these nine. W-Would that spell be strong enough to consume bodies, Milady?"
"I would need to examine the area where the ship was, to make a proper assessment."
"We can make those arrangements for you, Lady Norma," Brendan said. He looked back at the captain. "What else did you find?"
The captain sucked in a sharp breath before exhaling. "We—"
"OUT OF MY WAY! GET OUT OF MY WAY!"
The royals turned towards this shout. A feeling of dread swept over the docks as Lord Reilly Krieger burst through the wall of mourners and sprinted towards the royals, his bodyguards hot on his trail. "Darko! DARKO!"
The lord did not pause to greet the royals, but he skidded to a stop when he saw the row of bodies. Mouth agape and eyes wide, he stumbled almost blindly, tears spilling down his cheeks. The raw agony in his face was unbearable to look at no. "No, no, no, no, no…"
Then Reilly reached the table Darko laid, and he let out a piercing shriek when he saw Darko's body. "MY SON!"
Reilly grabbed Darko around the shoulders, hoisting him into his arms as he began to wail loudly. His shrieks echoed across the docks. Each gulp of air was followed by an even louder shriek. The screaming sobs were sometimes broken by Reilly calling Darko's name, followed by a litany of "no's". Though Lord Reilly was hardly a popular lord, everyone knew how much he loved his son. Seeing his very public grief was gut-wrenching.
The mood did not get better as the royals realized that all of the families of the victims had arrived and were approaching. Brendan quickly thrusted his hand towards the second crew member. "Give that to me," he said. "Whatever you found we can deal with later."
"Y-Yes, Your Highness!" The man quickly passed a white gauntlet to him. More shrieks rose in the air as the families laid eyes upon their loved ones, and Brendan quickly looked the gauntlet before passing it to Yasmine. He knew he needed to strong and present in the moment.
He turned to give his attention to the grieving families, but he saw Sigrun and Kion at his side. He narrowed his eyes and whispered one sentence to them before heading to the families.
"It was from Bianca."
The bodies were handled with dignity, but no one rushed the grieving families. The only one who seemed to maintain their composure was Lady Sarka. She did not shed tears when she looked upon her brother's body, nor did her demeanor crumble. She kept an appearance of calm as she carefully brushed Milo off and fixed his hair. "Always so good," she murmured to herself. "Always so brave. I'm proud of you. The proudest big sister."
King Franz arrived to Niebieska Brama with Albert, Elly, and the rest of the Intelligence Bureau within an hour of the unloading of the ship. It was understood that Albert and him had a matter to handle in Blutkrieger, thus why his six legitimate children were sent ahead to receive them. The Reiser Royal Family convened at Lord Benedict's mansion, and the lord vacated his home himself. "Use my residence for as long as you need, Your Majesty," he said softly, bowing gracefully. "There is enough space for all royals to have their own rooms." The hum of a melody followed his low words.
"We appreciate that greatly Lord Benedict, thank you," Albert said.
In Lord's Benedict's largest sitting room the King was presented with Astraea's damaged and bloodstained satchel and her bloodstained coin purse. He sat in a plush chair while his six legitimate sat on two couches facing each other. Brendan, Philomena, and Kion on one side, and Sigrun, Denzel, and Vahan sat on the other side. Albert stood behind the King at his right, and Elly, agents, and the royal guard framed the room. The entire mansion was completely locked down; no one was leaving, and no one was coming in.
King Franz held the two in his hands, examining them with an unreadable expression. He lifted his head and looked around the sitting room. "Is this all that is left of my daughter?" he demanded.
"Pictures were taken of the area of the island, Your Majesty," Vahan said, his eyes casted downward. "They are currently being developed, but the captain of the rescue ship…"
"He said there was blood on the rocks," Brendan spoke up. "Below the cliffside where…Astraea's items were found. It's possible…that Astraea fell upon the rocks, and was swept out."
A painful silence followed his words. King Franz let out a long and painful sigh. "Twenty crewmen," he said softly. "Seven soldiers. Six youths. And…four of my children. All senselessly slaughtered."
"It was Bianca," Kion spoke up. Yasmine passed the white gauntlet to Brendan, who stood up. He moved to hand it to the king, but Albert took it. "That's a piece of their military armor."
"…Indeed it is," Albert said grimly, looking at it closely. "You can see the national emblem of the Bianca Alliance here." He pointed to the rim of the gauntlet.
"Then it was as we feared," Elly said. "We knew Bianca was planning something against us, but—"
"What the hell happened?!" Denzel demanded sharply. He glared around the room. "How was the Bianca Alliance able to ambush Astraea and everyone else like that?! You're our damn Intelligence Agency! How could you all let this happen?!"
"Denzel—" King Franz said.
"Why did they stop there?!" Denzel shouted, launching to his feet. Sigrun tried to grab his arm but he shook her off. "That island was barely off the coast of Zelant! There is NO WAY they needed to do a stop off there so soon after they left harbor! And why were they on the island alone?! They had soldiers to escort them, why didn't the damn soldiers disembark with them?!"
"Your Highness—" one of the agents began.
"I'm not done, SHUT UP!" Denzel shrieked. "Astraea is dead. DEAD! Do ANY of you comprehend that?! My sister was MURDERED while being sent away on a damn trip that she didn't ask to be on! This was WHOLLY preventable! How could you let this happen?!"
King Franz swiftly stood up and squared his shoulders. "Clear the room," he said harshly. "Brendan, Sigrun, Kion, Vahan, Philomena, Denzel—all of you out."
The royals wanted to protest. They knew the King was about to have a meeting with his Intelligence Agency and they didn't want to be excluded from the meeting. But they were given an order by the king and they could not defy it.
"Your Majesty," Albert said softly.
"Oh, right," King Franz said. He motioned to the satchel and coin purse. "Please take these. You may each take something of Astraea's to have."
Sigrun came back and took the items before they left the room. King Franz then glared at the faces in the room. "Now," he said darkly. "You all have a lot of explaining to do."
In a smaller sitting room upstairs, the royal siblings opened Astraea's satchel and carefully emptied it on a tea table. A handkerchief. Oil for her knout. Hard candy. A fresh notepad with a pen. Topical cream. It almost felt like an invasion of her privacy, but they pushed the feeling aside. When the bag was empty, they stood in silence, staring at the contents.
Vahan absently emptied her coin purse and counted the money. "1,000 Potch," Vahan murmured. "Didn't she have more when she left?"
"She probably bought a few things before leaving," Philomena said, smiling wistfully. "Astraea loved going to the markets."
Brendan shook the bottle of oil. "Half-full. She always knew how to maintain her weapon."
Denzel reached out and picked up the small pack of hard candy. He carefully unscrewed the lid and looked inside. He left out a short laugh. "She always eats the red ones first." His face crumbled and in an instant he began sobbing uncontrollably.
"Hey, hey," Sigrun said, quickly wrapping her arms around him. "L—Leave Astraea's handkerchief for me, please," she said over her shoulder as she pulled Denzel towards the door. Musashi and Ferdinand quickly followed her out of the room.
The siblings and their assists stared at the door for a long time in silence. It was Kion who broke the silence. "We should send the satchel to Dawa."
"I was terrible to her, wasn't I?"
Kerime looked up. Vahan was sitting across from him, his elbows leaning into his knees and his hands clasped in front of his face. "She wanted to spend time with me," Vahan murmured. "Before she left. And I dismissed her. I thought—I believed that we would have time later." He shook his head and met Kerime's gaze. "Why wasn't I better to our sister?"
Kerime swallowed thickly. He reached out and laid a hand on Vahan's shoulder. "…I wasn't much better," he admitted softly. "Either to the Princess, o-or to Milo, Barrett, and Ritta. They were my siblings too, and I…" he shook his head.
Vahan gasped softly, and two teardrops slid down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away. "I really hate myself," he said. "Well you know the—" he waved a hand. "But now I wish…I wish I was there with her," he hissed. "I wish I had been there to fight by my sister's side."
"We will avenge her," Kerime said. "We will make sure Bianca never does anything like this again."
Vahan nodded, and he stood up from the chair. He approached the window of the room he had taken. "I'll make them pay what they've done. All of them."
Philomena paced her room, running both hands through her hair. "I never wanted a little sister," she whispered, tears in her voice. "I-I felt like she wasn't worth it because of Mother. But—she loved me so much, Aravine!" She paused and turned to look at her assist, who was leaning against the wall near the door. Tears rolled down Philomena's cheeks. "Astraea loved me, and I treated her with nothing but contempt! She loved me, and I—I hated her! I hated her for no reason!"
Aravine moved away from the door and approached her half-sister. She reached out and placed her hands on Philomena's shoulders. "You don't hate her," Aravine said. "You never did. You did love her, Philomena. That's why it hurts you so much now."
A sob bubbled in Philomena's throat. She threw her arms around Aravine and pressed her face into her shoulder. Aravine held her tight as she sobbed. "I'll kill them!" Philomena wailed, her voice muffled. "I swear to God I'll kill them for this!"
"I know," Philomena said softly, rubbing her back. "And I will help you do it."
"Your Highness?" Gwenette approached Kion from behind as he stood at the window. Her throat was burning but she maintained her calm. "Your Highness, if you need anything—"
"I wish not to be bothered by this anymore," Kion said irritably. He looked at her over his shoulder, and she saw no sorrow in his eyes. "Please go and watch my door."
Gwenette was stunned speechless. Unable to say anything she nodded and moved to leave the room. She closed the door behind her and leaned against the door. The hallway was empty. The tears spilled out and she pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs. It didn't help and her body jerked as she struggled to stay silent.
The door behind her abruptly opened, and Gwenette lost her balance and fell backwards. But arms caught her and she found herself being hugged from behind. "I'm sorry," Kion said quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you. This is very difficult for you, isn't it?"
Difficult for me? ME?! Your sister died, Your Highness! Princess Astraea died, and you don't seem to care!
The realization hit her sharply and she began to cry harder. Kion though continued to hold her, shedding no tears of his own.
"Your Highness—" Yasmine said.
"No," Brendan said abruptly. He was lying on the bed still in his armor, his arm covering his eyes. "I will not discuss it."
Yasmine stood at the foot of the bed watching him. After a moment she nodded. "Of course, Your Highness."
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Brendan abruptly broke it again. "Was the satchel sent out?"
"To Dawa?" Yasmine asked. "Ah—yes it was, Your Highness."
"Hmm."
Silence filled the room once more. Yasmine watched him for a moment before she spoke. "Your Highness?"
"Yes?"
"You shouldn't lie in bed in your full armor," Yasmine said. "Let me help you get comfortable."
Brendan did not immediately respond. After a few moments he lowered his arm and let it drop upon the bed. "All right."
Sigrun sat on the edge of the bed beside Denzel. Her youngest brother was asleep but curled in a fetal position on his side facing her. Astraea's tin of hard candy was still clenched in his fist. She reached out and stroke his hair. After a moment she looked up and met Musashi's gaze. "Please look out for him," she said.
"No need to ask," Musashi responded, and Sigrun started slightly from hearing him speak. "I will watch over the Prince as I always do."
Sigrun nodded slowly and stood. "Thank you." she glanced to her assist. "I'm…retiring for the rest of the day, Ferdinand."
"Of course," the Kobold warrior said. He motioned to the princess and they headed out of the room. As they entered the empty hallway, her vision blurred, her throat closed, and her knees weakened. She felt like she couldn't breathe.
"Your Highness!" Ferdinand exclaimed. Sigrun realized that his arms were around her and she knew that she had nearly fainted. They both sank to the floor with her sitting partially in her lap. "Easy, Your Highness…"
"F…Ferdinand," she wheezed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "My—My baby sister was murdered."
"I know," Ferdinand said quietly.
"M-M-My baby sister was murdered and s-she died alone, Ferdinand. She d-died—"
Sigrun couldn't form anymore words. She buried her face in her hands and she began to sob. Ferdinand didn't say anything more. He simply held her while she cried.
The next day…
She had heard. Everyone had heard. But when the ensign arrived to her residence with the official message and the proof—the proof—of what everyone knew to be true…Dawa could no longer cling to the denials. There was nothing to deny. Not while she clutched a blood-soaked satchel in her arms that she knew had belonged to Astraea.
"I offered my deepest condolences to you, Lady Dawa," the ensign said sadly. The man had ridden all night without rest to get to Potsfurt in a timely manner. "The royals…this one amongst the only things they found of Princess Astraea. The royals felt that you should have that."
Dawa slowly looked up at him. Her mouth opened and closed before she could speak. "I…need to go," she said softly. "I need to go to the capital—"
"Begging your pardon Lady Dawa," the ensign said. "But His Majesty the King wishes that you maintain your position here. It's suspected that he will declare war on the Bianca Alliance very soon. He wants Potsfurt to be prepared for it."
Dawa blinked in shock. Maintain my position? What?! Why?! Am I not even allowed to go to the Princess's funeral?!
Just thinking those last words made her feel violently ill. But she knew there was no point in arguing with the ensign over this. "…Thank you for bringing me this," she said, hugging the satchel to her chest. "I would offer you shelter here in my residence, but I…" she swallowed hard before continuing. "I gave my staff the day off."
"I understand, Milady," the ensign said. "I have a room at the inn reserved. If there is nothing else I will take my leave."
Dawa nodded mutely. Left to her own devices, Dawa turned and headed upstairs. Her family residence was a lot more modest than the residences of other lordship seats, but she made due with the space. The door straight off the stairwell on her right was her office, and she entered the room. She looked around the room in a daze, almost feeling like she was floating over to her desk. She set the satchel down on the surface and smoothed it out. There were bloodstains and the strap was broken. And there was a clear hole in the bag that had been made by a sword. Dawa traced the hole absently, but then she quickly flipped the bag over. There was a matching hole on the other side.
They broke her guard. If they got this close—was this the blow that killed her?
Dawa's vision turned red. She stormed over to her fireplace to the western side of the room and drew out a fire poker. Sucking in a sharp breath, she turned and proceeded to smash everything within vicinity. Vases, cups, trinkets, mirror—nothing was left unscathed. With every object she broke she envisioned that it was one of the butchers who had killed Astraea.
Who had killed her little sister.
Dawa screamed, and began slamming the fire poker into the floorboards, beating at the wood as though it were a nail and she was wielding a hammer. She didn't know how long this went on for, but she stopped when her arms became sore. She hunched forward, breathing harshly through clenched teeth. She squeezed her eyes shut, the rage and grief swelling inside her and overwhelming her. Never had she thought that mere feelings could make her feel like she wanted to die, but in that moment…in that moment she truly wanted to die.
I was her assist. I was supposed to protect her. But I abandoned her…and she died.
"Dawa?"
Dawa's eyes snapped open when she heard this voice. She straightened her posture and turned to face the person standing at the door. A beautiful woman in her early thirties stood there. She wore a blue-white cloak, pale pink dress, and thigh-high white boots. Her white hair was worn in a sleek ponytail and her pale blue eyes were half-lidded but emotional. Her complexion was like espresso and she always seemed to have a natural glow around her.
Dawa felt her name form on her lips, but no sound was made. Prim.
Primrose, elite member of the Magic Guild, glanced around Dawa's newly destroyed office with a raised brow. After a moment she looked at Dawa and approached her. "I heard," she said softly.
Dawa shook her head. "The Magic Guild went to Niebieska Brama, didn't they?"
Primrose shook her head in response. "Not all of us. Lady Norma only took nearly all of us with her."
"Nearly…" Dawa scoffed and looked away. "But not you," she added.
"No," Primrose said.
They stood in silence for a long moment. "I don't have the right," Primrose said finally, looking away briefly before meeting Dawa's gaze again. "But…I'm here for you, Dawa. And I am truly sorry."
The poker slipped out of Dawa's hand and clattered to the floor. "Are you now?" she whispered.
"Princess Astraea was your sister," Primrose said. "And…she was a good person. She deserved better. We all know that."
She wanted to yell and scream. She wanted to continue to destroy. She wanted to rush out and find the people who killed Astraea and make them suffer worse.
Instead she opened her mouth to speak…and a sob ruptured from her throat. Once the tears came she could not stop them, and she covered her face with her hands.
Primrose said nothing more, but she moved closer and embraced her while she sobbed.
…
…
…
Pain.
So much—
Too much—
Dying—
Am I dying?
No.
No.
NO.
I will not die.
I WILL NOT DIE.
Astraea forced her eyes open. The world was so dark and her body was in so much pain. But the pain meant that she was still alive.
She was alive. She would live.
The battle had been swift. By herself facing down twelve soldiers…she stood no chance. She was stabbed three times—once straight through her satchel—before she made the split decision to jump from the cliffs. She thought in the moment, Maybe I'll get lucky and hit the water—
But she hit the rocks. She felt the impact of her body on the rocks and she fell into darkness. She awoke sometime later—she didn't know when—partially drowning with her head slightly submerged in the merciless waves. Her sleeve had been caught in between two jagged rocks. She knew that this was the only reason she wasn't swept out to sea.
But then she heard them coming—looking for her on a boat. She saw nothing but black and red; nearly blind as she fought the waves and pulled her way across the rocks. She was stabbed in the palms multiple times by the jagged rocks, but she persevered. Crawling and pulling, pulling and crawling…she somehow found a small cavern behind the wall of rocks. She pulled herself into the cavern, and she realized that the cavern was only partially wet. It was safe from the rushing waters.
But when she found her shelter, she found a new problem. An even bigger problem than surviving drowning. For when she pulled herself into cavern…she noticed for the first time that her legs would not move. She looked at them, but even with her fragmented vision they did not seem broken. But as she shifted, and she noticed the searing pain in her back, she realized why her legs did not move.
I broke my back in the fall.
She did not know how she was alive. She was wounded from her assassination attempt, and she was wounded from the fall. Now, with a broken back…she did not know how she would escape alive.
I will not die. I will not die. I cannot die.
She could not move her lower body, but her arms worked. So Astraea proceeded to crawl through the cavern on her belly, her elbows digging into the rocky soil to propel her. Rocky soil…she did not know if the soil was damaging her legs. She could not feel it. But she did not let it deter her. She crawled and crawled and crawled in the darkness, punctuated by her labored breathing. The sounds of waves grew further away, which gave her hope. She was making progress.
But her body was getting weaker. She had lost so much blood, and she did not know the extent of her back injuries other than the paralysis. But she pushed the thought away and kept her mind focused. She would worry about it later.
I will not die. I will not die. I cannot die.
No…she could not die. Not when she had a family to go home to. Not after the horrors she witnessed. Not after she was nearly killed by butchers and survived. She was alive. She needed to go home. She needed answers on what happened. She could not get those answers if she died. She would not die. She WOULD NOT DIE.
But…
But her movements became slower and slower. Her arms became heavy and did not move as quickly. Astraea gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep pushing forward. "I…will not die!" she gritted. "I will not die!"
Astraea gave a final heave forward—and met open air.
She did not have the energy to scream. She tumbled down a steep and hard incline and her broken body slammed into the surface of a rock. Bright patches filled her vision. It felt like she was in a crevice and she was laying on her back. She could not turn over. She could not breathe. Her surroundings were dark. She did not know how big the chamber was.
I will not die. I WILL NOT DIE!
Astraea tried to sit up, but then she retched and coughed up blood. She planted her elbows as best as she could, leaving her body at a slight angle but not entirely on her back. She could not lie down. She could barely breathe as it was, but if she lay down she would suffocate. She grunted and choked, tears spilling down her cheeks as she tried with all her might to move. To get her body up. But all she could was hold it in a partially leaning up position. But even then her arms trembled violently beneath her.
"I—will not die!" she spat out, her voice raspy and weak. "I will not die! Not now!"
Her right arm gave out and she collapsed onto her back. Abruptly her airway burned as more blood spew from her throat but could not escape her mouth. She no longer had the energy to move.
No—NO! I cannot die! Please! Please—
A piercing dark light suddenly filled the chamber, illuminating it from ceiling to floor. It was a large cavern room filled with jagged rocks. But strangely…the two rocks Astraea was nestled between were smooth. As Astraea struggled to breathe, a tendril of light slid across the rocks and underneath her shoulder blades. The tendril felt solid against her. Then the tendril moved…lifting her. She was shifted fully into a sitting position and propped against a smooth surface. Astraea gagged as she could finally breathe.
"Princess Astraea Reiser."
Astraea gasped when she heard her name. It was an ethereal voice with an indeterminate gender. She did not know if the speaker was a man or a woman. "W…Who?" she croaked, still struggling to catch her breath.
"Princess Astraea Reiser," the voice said again, filling the room. "Your pain and determination to live called to me. Will you accept me?"
"What?" Astraea mouthed the word, but no sound came out. Suddenly she felt a gust of wind. She wanted to shield her face but she could not lift her arms. She ducked her head forward and squeezed her eyes shut as her only means to shield herself.
"Princess Astraea Reiser. Open your eyes and look at me."
Astraea lifted her head with great difficulty and opened her eyes. What she saw was the most magnificent being she had ever seen in her life. It was a— giant bird. A bright green bird that seemed to be made of light with six wings. It hovered directly above her, its wings flittering ever so slightly. It was so large that it filled the room.
"Look upon me, Princess Astraea Reiser," the voice said, and Astraea realized that it was coming from the bird. "Look upon a power of creation. Look upon the power of a True Rune."
True Rune? Astraea's eyes widened and she gasped softly in shock. This bird…was a True Rune?!
She knew what True Runes were. The 27 True Runes maintained the fabric of the world, created from Sword and Shield. She knew they existed, but she had never seen one before.
"I offer you this power, Princess Astraea Reiser," the bird told her. "With this power, your body will heal. With this power, your body will freeze in time at this moment. With this power, your life will be eternal. Immortality with a power that shaped the world. I have chosen you to wield this power, Princess Astraea Reiser. It is yours…if you choose to take it."
Astraea blinked slowly and coughed softly. She could already feel a little bit of her strength returning to her, but her body was still wracked with pain. "You…Want to help me?" she whispered.
"For a price," the bird said. "Only by your choice. If you choose my power, your life will be tied to me. But I am not your servant. I am not a tool for you to use wantonly. You would owe me your life—so your life is mine. You are bound to my will. You will yield my power how I see fit. And if you ever prove yourself unworthy of me, I will leave you. No matter the circumstance I will leave you.
"But it is your choice. You can deny me, and you will die right there. You will die without seeing your family again. You will die without taking revenge on those who did that to you. If you accept me then you can do these things; see your family again. And get the revenge you deserve. But my power is MY power. It is mine to control, and you will serve me.
"Make your choice, Princess Astraea Reiser. Will you accept my power…or will you accept death?"
Astraea stared stunned at the bird. She knew that this was a pivotal decision. Quite possibly the most important decision she would ever make in her life. She could accept the True Rune, and its ominous promises, or she could deny it and die.
"W…Who are you?" she asked.
The bird spread its wings wind and hovered in the air. "I am the True Wind Rune. Commander of the wind element. Does that power please you, Princess Astraea Reiser?"
True Wind Rune? Astraea thought. She felt a simmer of relief in the core of her being. That doesn't sound so bad. Wind Runes are not as ferocious as Fire Runes or Lightning Runes. Wind Runes also have healing spells. This True Rune…shouldn't have dark powers. Or purposes.
She slumped back against the wall and made her decision. "Yes."