A swarm of crows spiralled down a dark cave. There, they nested and dropped the first egg down to the cavern's pit. The bottom of the pit warmed them, comforted them, and nourished them with flesh, but only in exchange for the first egg the mothers laid.
One day, a mother laid two eggs. She pushed the one she thought she had laid first out of the nest and into the pit, but it fell short of rolling down the edge. A tiny, silver hatchling emerged only an inch away from his demise.
The pit grew angry, making the other crows sick, so the mother rolled down her second egg and rescued her firstborn son.
The pit was pleased, giving the crows even more power than before.
The mother was praised, her son exalted for his unusual plumage, but her guilt would never truly fade.
The mother raised her snowy son, showing him how to use his claws to mend all wrongs and use his beak to defend the weak. Her fellow crows began to notice that many differences separated them from the mother of the snowy chick. Their crimson eyes set on her, and the closer they looked, the more the mother tried to hide. Alas, she could not change the fact that her tail was pointy and not flat. Although her coat was black, she was the size of a hawk. Her son was much the same, and pale ravens were always a sign of Death.
'Traitors! Traitors!' cried the oldest crow of all. 'These two are ravens, they must die!'
Mother and son fled from the cave, but the crows never forgave. The fugitives made a nest far in the black desert, hidden behind countless dunes.
One night, the swarm covered the empty sky; their wings flapped with the pace of murder, and their cries carried their promises of carnage.
Mother Raven saw them and hid her snowy chick, giving him the chance to flee.
The swarm saw her protecting her empty nest and spiralled down to where she was, bringing their reign of terror upon her. They ate Mother Raven's eyes and pecked at her feathers until their beaks were crimson. They asked about her son, but she did not tell at all.
'To the gallows, to the gallows!' The swarm of crows chanted. 'To the gallows she shall go!'
The hatchling, now a chick almost old enough to leave the nest, came out of hiding. He faced the hundreds of hungry, crimson eyes that raged at him.
The chick was not afraid; his mother had taught him to defend the weak, and a life of running from the vile swarm was no life at all.
Young and inexperienced as he was, the chick fought bravely, for he was Death, and Death feared none. For every silvery feather he lost, three crows died. But the swarm was made of thousands, and he was only one.
A howl made the presence of the wolf known; it would not tolerate intruders. The swarm of crows took flight. The chick lay on his back in the bloodied, black sand, expecting the wolves to tear apart what remained of him.
He saw a young she-wolf, perhaps as young as he was. Her fur was white like Death's; a crown of horns sat on her head, and her eyes held winter within them. She was holding the oldest crow of all in her maw. It was dead. She snapped the crow's neck, and the blood dripped all around the chick's injured body. It absorbed the blood, gaining the strength of the swarm. It returned, screeching for revenge.
The swarm was right behind the she-wolf, merging into a monstrous chimaera with the beak of a crow, the eyes of a spider, and the body of a goat. The wolf attacked it, but she was immediately injured and left to roll on the sand with a deep wound on her front legs.
The chick attacked, aiming right for the chimaera's eyes.
Ainchase woke up and, much like the silver raven from his dream, he saw a wintery gaze looking at him, but thankfully without a dead bird in her mouth. Though his dream had hardly been any less violent than the previous ones, somehow, he felt more at peace than when the bloodshed was inflicted on faceless demons.
'There was no fire this time around…' he noted as he greeted the demoness. Seeing Luciela donning her gauntlets put him slightly on edge.
"Is something the matter?" he asked her after she greeted him back. Sitting down, sore from sleeping on the uneven terrain, he saw another figure sitting beside the demoness' servant. It was a cloaked person.
The grey cloak gave away the curves of a woman, and the ashen green hair that peeked from her hood were enough hints to know exactly who they were dealing with. The Celestial took a deep breath. He expected the Ranger to try to contact them, perhaps try to thwart their mission, but he did not expect it to be so soon.
"Nothing worrying," Luciela said before sitting down next to Rena. The elf uncovered her face, and the demoness glanced at the elf before turning her gauntlets back into long, sleek gloves. "She just wanted all of us to be awake to talk."
"Good morning," the elven Ranger greeted him with a polite nod.
The Celestial contented to nod back before pulling back a fur that he could recall putting on when he fell asleep. The idea of the demoness being the one to cover him came to mind very naturally, and it did not leave a lingering trace of disgust. If anything, he questioned why, if his dreams were only figments of his budding imagination, she seemed to act as if there was something more to them.
He had many questions, yet he feared that some would hurt Luciela.
The last time they had openly talked, she cried over something he had said, and although Ainchase did not quite know what it was, the end result did not change, nor did his regrets over it. After all, the last thing he wished for was to harm her; that had been the case from the very start, even when he denied it. It was so ingrained in him that it must be the goddess's wish for him to spare her.
He noticed that he had been staring at the demoness only when she turned her head away to yawn. From the angle he had, the Celestial could still see her fangs—sharp and long, enough to bite through flesh, much like her claws.
'But why a wolf?' he wondered as he, too, caught the urge to yawn. 'So many other animals have fangs…'
"So," Rena began after clearing her throat, "I'll get straight to the point now that everyone's awake." She clapped her hands once to get their undivided attention. "I came here because Elder Branwen's wasting your time."
The Celestial stared blankly at the elf. Though her interference in this matter was perhaps inevitable, he had expected at least some credible lies to come out of her mouth. Something so easily proven false was either a testament to her simple-mindedness or that she had no idea they had not simply left to roam about the forests with some supplies in tow.
'Or both. Mortals can be both stubbornly stupid and ignorant.'
"Really?" Luciela questioned the Ranger, crossing her arms. Her blue eyes set on the elf with disgust, and the slight twitch in the corner of her mouth only made her displeasure far more apparent. "I thought that creating puppets was at least a conscious effort. Did she dream the Rogue Phorus into existence?"
"Rogue Phorus are nothing new," Rena answered with a shrug. "If anything, they've just been more active outside the ruins because of other threats to the forest. Namely demons. They're like minor spirits, in that way."
That answer finally settled the question that had appeared in his mind; Rena was clearly showing ignorance and stupidity, hoping she might convince them to abandon their mission. It only made the elf's presence even more unwelcome.
Ainchase scoffed. "An elf loved by the spirits comparing the most horrific human chimaeras to minor spirits? Well, now I've seen it all."
"They're monsters, yes," Rena argued, her tone growing tense, "but they depend on the forests, too."
Though it sounded outrageous, the Celestial had to admit she was right, but only on a minor technicality. They depended on the forests because their creator was bound to them. It was why he was shocked to see them around yesterday, though he now supposed it had been a mirage. He still could not explain the fog, but it was perhaps just an effect of Henir's unfettered influence on the land without the El.
"We killed some on our way here," Luciela lied as she lazily combed through her hair. "It doesn't seem they miss the greenery all that much."
'Though deception is not exactly condoned by the goddess…I think this is justified.'
The Celestial showed his silent approval with a nod.
"And they've been attacking people before any demon set foot here," Ciel added as he rekindled the dead fire. He only shot a casual, almost dismissive glance at the Ranger. "Rena, we talked about it when we met, didn't we?"
The elven woman remained silent for a moment, casting her gaze down. Ainchase knew he had to trace a clear line on the sand; she was wasting their time, and he would not tolerate it.
His emerald gaze was pinned on the elf, unflinching, almost threatening. Just as Rena opened her mouth, he cut off whatever rubbish excuses she might have thought about. "You might be willing to ignore the disaster your friend caused," he told her, "but no one will follow your lead."
Rena frowned at him. "I'm not ignoring anything. You're the ones who are ignoring the full picture."
The elf searched the pockets of her coat and took out a rusty gear that reeked of El Energy—Ainchase could tell because of the slight boost of energy he felt when he laid his eyes on it. That piece of El had been refined to an impressive degree, something humanity had not achieved for centuries.
'Hm, but maybe the heretics that destroyed another El Shard… Could they have—?'
Ainchase shook that thought off his mind. It was too early to make that kind of conjecture. Mortals rarely, if ever, attempted to revive dead languages. Besides, the Church would surely stop anyone from getting their hands on the knowledge of the Debrians.
"I found this near the White Mist Swamp," Rena informed them, looking down at the piece before turning back towards the Celestial. "You said that you were attacked by Nasods, didn't you? The real culprits could be long gone when you reach the ruins."
"And why's that?" Luciela challenged the elf one more time, crossing her arms. "Nobody can cross the White Mist Swamp by airship, and the road by land is treacherous. It's a two-week journey at least."
Rena tilted her head at her. "How do you even—?"
"Because," Ciel cut her off as he got up and took out a pan, a sealed water jar, and some oatmeal out of their bag of supplies. "Making sure some merchants had safe passage over that road was part of my mission."
He used magic to empower the flames, so the water boiled in a minute. "Wanna have breakfast with us?" the Steel Cross asked the elf as he poured the oatmeal into the now simmering water. "We need something a little more filling than a conversation to start the day, y'know?"
The Ranger did not answer, contenting to nod as Ciel stirred the oatmeal. Ainchase furrowed his brow at the half-demon's casual acceptance of a potential hindrance to their mission, but the faint, devilish smirk on his lips made the Celestial pause.
The half-demon searched the bag to his right, took out a wooden spoon and began to stir the pot, whistling what Ainchase assumed to be a lullaby. Ciel lingered on some notes for far longer, rushing through others, creating a chaotic rhythm that made the Celestial question why he had assumed it was a lullaby. It sounded like a folk song, though perhaps not the kind people danced to.
"I'm not hungry," Luciela informed them, turning her head to the side, seemingly looking for something on the horizon. She combed her hair back, but her hand lingered a second too long over the nape of her neck as if she wished to protect it.
Rena raised an eyebrow at her and put a hand over her shoulder, whispering something to her, to which the demoness contented herself to nod. They exchanged a few words, but Ainchase's focus drifted towards the half-demon.
Ciel became expressionless all of a sudden. His blank stare towards his mistress made Ainchase shudder. Before he realised what he was doing, the Celestial sprang up on his feet and was firmly clenching two daggers in his hands. Then, just as suddenly, the blue-haired man donned a kind smile and acknowledged his mistress' desires gleefully. Ciel then turned his attention towards Ainchase and chuckled at the sight of his daggers, praising him for how energetic he was. It was a light-hearted, amiable laughter that stood in stark contrast with the look in his eyes only seconds ago. Only then did Rena turn her gaze away from Luciela, and her eyes widened when she saw that Ainchase was armed.
The elven Ranger muttered a few words in her native tongue, and a handful of fireflies appeared around her before swirling away to circle around their camp. She had surely assumed he had sensed some outside threat.
"What did you create those for, Ain?" he asked, happily stirring the contents of the pot. It was already thickening nicely, and the smell was mouth-watering. Ciel looked around them for a moment. "I don't see anyone but us around."
His gaze narrowed at the overly familiar way the half-demon had addressed him but did not comment.
"There was something around here," the Celestial calmly said as he disintegrated his weapons before sitting back down. "But it ran away."
"Ah, it ran because you spotted it so quickly, right?" the Steel Cross wondered as he took out three wooden bowls, leaving the wooden spoon sitting still in the pot. "I'm glad you're so focused on the mission."
Though his words were full of friendly praise, Ainchase wondered if the half-demon meant it. Seeing Ciel's empty expression, however briefly, had unsettled him far more than it should. It was perhaps what mortals called a primal fear, though it was most likely unfounded.
'But that's odd…I shouldn't be so easily scared of a mortal,' Ainchase thought as he stole a glance at the demoness, who was murmuring with Rena. He was relieved seeing Luciela calmer than before, though part of him wondered if that calm was only a front. Then again, she was perfectly capable of crushing that human, just like he was. The unease he had felt was completely unjustified, even assuming he had reacted out of concern for the demoness.
The Steel Cross served everyone a portion of oatmeal, but despite how tempting it was, Ainchase paused when he met the demoness' gaze. She looked away almost immediately, announcing that she would pack their sleeping mats while they ate. Rena tilted her head but did not stop her.
Ainchase looked back at the bowl and stirred it with his small wooden spoon. The texture was fine, it was piping hot, and its aroma was a pleasant mix of apples and cinnamon.
Apples and cinnamon? He had not seen the half-demon add anything special to the oatmeal.
There was only oatmeal in the small bowl; there were not even chunks of dried apples or traces of cinnamon powder. Subtly, the Celestial traced a few protection runes on the bowl and the smell immediately changed. It was still pleasant but not as inviting as it had been before. Ainchase took the first bite, taking his time to chew carefully and probing if any traces of magic were left in the food. Fortunately, there were not.
'This man could be dangerous,' he thought as he swallowed the first bite. 'I can't leave him to his devices.'
Ainchase was famished, so he ate the now inoffensive meal, one careful spoonful at a time.
"Hmm!" the Ranger squealed as she wolfed down her plate. "This gotta be the best oatmeal I've had in my life!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth as she spoke and still savoured it. She pointed at Ciel with her spoon. "You have to tell me your secrets."
"Aw shucks, Rena," he simpered, blushing ever so slightly. "I'm glad you liked it that much, but I have no secrets to teach. I was just born with that talent."
"You should open a restaurant, seriously!" the elf insisted as she scraped her bowl. "You'd have endless clients. Including people like us, right Ainchase?"
Her peridot eyes turned towards him, full of life and joy bordering on mania. Whatever charm spell Ciel had injected into the food was frighteningly potent. And if the charm affected an elf, then it had enough El Energy to kill a demon. The half-demon was not possibly dangerous; he was an unpredictable threat.
"Why did you put such a powerful spell on the food?" the Celestial asked, his tone just as cold as when he had spoken to the Ranger. "It has enough El Energy to kill a demon."
The Steel Cross' friendly grin briefly soured, but he picked back his act as naturally as ever before. "Wow, that's a little harsh, Ain. You could've just said you don't like it."
Though the Ranger immediately agreed, Ainchase would not let the matter drop. His eyes narrowed at the Steel Cross. "Are you so incompetent with your magic that you can't notice what you just did?"
"Why are you being so rude?" the entranced archer demanded, glaring at him. "Just don't eat it if you hate it that much."
The Celestial got another glimpse at that unfathomable darkness in the half-demon's sapphire gaze, twisted further by how subtly the corners of his mouth turned upward. He slid his hand into his pocket, and before he took whatever it held within, Luciela came back into view, dropping their now-packed supplies between them.
"Enough, Ciel," she snarled as she sat down. "Break that charm. Right now."
The Steel Cross clicked his tongue. "C'mon, Lu. What's wrong with using her?"
He weaved his mana into a small hexagon, and Rena's lively gaze dulled into an absent stare.
"See?" He gestured towards the entranced elf and added, "She'll do whatever we ask if I keep my spell on. We could even tell her to kill her family, and she'd go for it." The Steel Cross turned towards the Ranger to prove his point. "Right, Rena? You'd kill—"
Once again, Ainchase found himself acting before fully understanding why. The Steel Cross' assessment was correct; they had to manipulate the elf into not being a hindrance, but the idea of controlling her to the point she would kill her own people revolted him far more.
Ainchase unleashed his Spiritual form and pointed a halberd at the half-demon's neck. For once, Ishmael's soldier saw genuine fear in the Steel Cross' eyes. It was a fear that Luciela mastered far more. In fact, Ainchase could not tell if she was afraid.
Though he should not feel any satisfaction from power, Ainchase could not help but smirk. There was perhaps something to feel satisfied about by terrifying someone who had also triggered a misplaced sense of dread in him.
"Know your place, abomination," he ordered, pressing the edge of his weapon close to Ciel's neck, barely enough to make a tiny dent in the skin. "You have no right to bend a mortal's will to your liking. That is heresy of the highest order."
Then, unexpectedly, Ciel smiled in turn. "Then, go ahead and kill me, O Venerable One."
"Only if your owner permits it," he said, looking at Luciela. She seemed surprised, though it was hard to tell if it was in a good or in a bad way.
The Steel Cross chuckled, bringing Ainchase's white and blue gaze back to him. "You're going to put the decision in the hands of your enemy? Come on, Ain. Don't you have any pride?"
Ciel was still afraid; he could see it from his tense posture, even if his empty, blue stare might suggest the contrary. The idea of knocking half of his teeth, just for good measure, sounded very tempting. Yet, the Celestial had the impression that the half-demon was fishing for another irrational reaction on his part.
"My only purpose is to enact the goddess' will," Ainchase told him, speaking without a hint of emotion. "You should be glad she doesn't want me to harm your owner. Otherwise, I would've killed you both the moment I saw you."
Little by little, Ciel's bravery crumbled there, but so did the fear, at least, to a degree.
"Spare him on the condition he dispels his charm in the next minute," Luciela finally said, her expression unreadable.
Ciel glared at her before finally capitulating and doing as he was asked. He weaved his mana into a small circle of runes and let the spell silently dissolve around them. The elven woman blinked a few times as if awakened from her sleep.
"Wha–?" she muttered, looking around her. In his current form, Ainchase only had to glance at her to tell her what had occurred. The language of spirits transcended sound, words or anything that most mortals could comprehend as communication.
Rena's gaze was set on her empty plate, and she weaved mana around the edges. A frown soon soured her expression. Her grip on the bowl tightened so much that she threatened to break it into countless pieces.
The Celestial returned to his mortal shell, dispelling his weapon soon after.
"Is this how you thank me?" Rena hissed. Fury ignited her eyes and hardened her expression so profoundly that she almost looked like a different person. "Is this it?"
Luciela did not say a word, even when Ciel looked at her for help. It was obvious that the half-demon had to answer for his actions, and she would not help him.
"What? Did she force you to do this?" the elf hissed.
The Steel Cross looked almost ashamed with how he lowered his head and nodded gravely. Rena got up, walking so fast it was as if she was running up to hit someone. The Celestial expected a slap, perhaps, or at most a punch to come flying Ciel's way for continuing to lie.
However, he was the first one surprised to see her pull a powerful kick to his stomach. The Steel Cross put his arms to protect his ribs, but the impact was still enough to knock him over his back.
Ciel coughed, almost gasping for air as he slowly tried to get back up, but it seemed that he had also hit his head. His sapphire gaze was looking around, blinking and disoriented. He was practically stunned. Rena looked down at him, still furious.
"By rights, I should kill you! For lying, for poisoning me!" the elf growled. She took a sharp breath, glaring at the man she had knocked over with a single hit. "Don't you dare to set foot in our land again. I will shoot you dead if I see you."
With those words, Rena put her hood back and leapt away, and they soon lost her in the grey, monotonous landscape. It took Ciel a minute more to finally get the strength to sit down again.
"Bullets are faster than arrows," the half-demon muttered, his eyes fixed on the horizon, zoned in the direction Rena took.
"And my fire turns your bullets into dust," Luciela coldly told him. "Stop acting like an imbecile, pick up your bag, and let's get going."
Elsword felt sore all over, but he used one of the swords his father had given him to keep steady. Despite the cold, he was sweating so much that his clothes were glued on him like a second skin. Practice. He ought to continue practising. Practice and practice until he dropped into a dreamless sleep.
He exhaled, and his breath condensed, bringing a fleeting warmth to the otherwise bleak world around him. Just to his left were two graves, both shallow and hastily covered by his fellow knights.
The state of the corpses was far worse than what Elsword could have imagined. He swung his sword again, pivoting as he spun from left to right. A tiny spark of mana flashed from the tip of his weapon, immediately turning to ash as it cut through the dry, poisonous air around him.
Elsword felt his nose get stuffy. He passed his thumb near his nostrils to clean them, but when he looked at what he assumed to be some snot, it turned out to be blood. The red-handed boy clicked his tongue as he finally settled to stop training and head back home.
Home. The word was now hollow. The people who made that little cottage feel like home were gone, but that was for the best. Ruben was not the cosy, warm village where his family could stay.
The young knight sheathed his weapon over his back and picked up the torch he had left to his left to head down the now depressingly silent and abandoned roads that led from the town square back to his home. What once had been a peaceful, unpaved way surrounded by leaves and flowers was now mostly barren, with only some El Stones hanging around the few properties that still had people surviving within them.
What remained where the trees had once stood was only a dry, almost desert-like, silent land marked by a few mounds of dirt. Graves. Elsword counted six of them before he reached his home. It already had some El Stone lamps planted around the garden, replacing the flowers and spices Lady Seris and he took care of.
Aisha was sitting on the stairs leading to the main entrance, already dozing off over a heavy book. Her staff and bag full of knickknacks lay at her side, acting as a very unusual and uncomfortable cushion.
"What are you doing here?" he asked her, raising his voice to wake her up. The Sanderian mage jolted awake and looked around before she realised he was the one who had called her.
"I wasn't assigned a residence," she answered with a long yawn. "I thought I'd have to spend the night outside…"
The boy clicked his tongue. "Move your stuff out of the entrance to my house, will you?"
"Can I stay?" she timidly asked.
Elsword frowned. "Why should I let you? We were…" His expression almost crumbled, and he looked away, hating to remind himself of everything, but his crimson gaze met her amethyst eyes again, full of fury. "We were burying people, and you were just reading your dumb books!"
"My books aren't dumb!" Aisha shot back. "I have been looking for ways for people to survive, you know?! We won't last a week if I don't keep looking for a solution!"
Elsword glared at her momentarily, but he soon realised that even if he wanted to kick her out, he was too tired to continue fighting. He sighed.
"And did you find a solution?" the red-haired boy asked as he sat on the other side of the stairs just to her right. Every muscle was screaming for him to rest, but he could not. At least, not yet.
"I… need to confirm my theory with a friend," she softly confessed, holding her heavy book close to her chest. "He's the best healer I know, so… he might know how to heal the sick here."
Elsword sighed. "Fine. I'll let you use my parents' room. It has a communication orb installed in it."
The mage turned towards him, her eyes sparkling beautifully under the weak light of the El Stones, but most of all, her smile.
"Thank you so much," she said, offering him a small, tired smile that was brighter than anything he could express. "I promise it won't take very long."
Elsword's attention drifted briefly back to the mounds of dirt. He wondered how she could smile like that after everything that had happened. The young knight slowly got back on his feet, muttering a half-hearted 'You're welcome.' He envied Aisha for being capable of smiling like that, of being so bright.
It almost made him want to rip apart whatever made her so strong.
As he opened the door for the two of them, he shook the violent thought away. It was so strange and brief that Elsword dismissed that thought as a product of his fatigue.
Maybe this time, he would be tired enough to avoid the nightmares.