Scorched Earth

by Kyuohki

Summary:

Fate has a way of intertwining with itself, more of a tangled snarl of string than a straight path of one point to the next. When one Universe is given a chance with something as simple as an answered knock, that new string falls and twines with others as it is twisted into existence.

The consequences of these connections can be both necessary and devastating.

Notes:

As a heads up, this is not gonna be a happy fic.

Already have a few chapters done, will post weekly, though the day may vary.

Chapter 1

The lights of the Humble Boast’s quarters were blessedly dim to Zale’s eyes, the reddish glow of sunset filtering through the windows.  Every part of his body felt like it was seizing up.  He didn’t have the energy to even crawl to one of the beds, having collapsed moments after he’d made it through the door.  He could hear voices, a cacophony echoing from beyond the entrance, but couldn’t summon the mental strength to pinpoint where or who they were.  

Zale’s eyes drooped; surely Valere and Garl wouldn’t mind him taking a quick breather here.  Or maybe they could help him get to a bed?

He could smell blood though.  Taste it on his tongue.  

Where were the others?  Had they been in a fight?  If he was hurt, surely everyone else needed healing.  And Zale had been their primary healer for so long.  He needed to get up…

With a groan, Zale braced his hand on the floor and gagged at the slimy, squishy feel under his palm.  He cracked his eyes open, the nauseating sensation a rising alarm in his head.  But the warm glow of the wooden floorboards was all he could see.  

He rolled himself over, and the room spun - twisting into pulsating veins and flesh for a second before snapping back into the upper deckhouse of the Humble Boast.  Zale panted from even that small effort, his ribs protesting every shuddering, iron saturated inhale.

A shape materialized above him, and he lashed out.

“Whoa!”

Garl.

“Hey, you’re all right, Zale.  Don’t try to move, okay?”

Zale couldn’t focus on him.  Garl’s blurry form hovered over his broken body, hands waving over him as if casting a spell of his own.  Zale smiled weakly at the thought, knowing Garl would love to be able to heal with a word or gesture.  Zale was the one with the magic, and Garl was the one with all the heart.   

“Smiling’s good.  Just stay awake.”

The flash of silver behind Garl could only be Valere.  She hovered just as frantically as Garl, as Zale’s eyes drooped.

“Zale!  Focus on us, please!”

“We’re gonna figure this out, then get you out of here.”

But they were safe.  

He’d get up in a bit.  Heal himself…and, and everyone else.  

Then they’d all eat some of Garl’s wonderful food.

They were at the Humble Boast, and they were all safe.  

*

The swaying was making him nauseous.  Zale dangled between two grotesque, dual headed monsters, their rhythmic shifting just out of sync with the other and jerking him between the two.  Focusing on the corridors made it worse - the fleshy, raw, contaminated surface of the place made his head spin.  Zale groaned, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to ignore the lurching movements. 

“Set him down there.”

His knees smacked into something hard before the clawed hands released his arms.  He crumpled across a table, then felt a hand brace itself on the back of his neck, pinning him to the surface.

“Never had a Solstice Warrior for just my experiments,” was hissed into his ear.  Zale clawed at the offending hand, fear giving him a brief burst of strength as he struggled.

“Get off me!”

The hand on his neck tightened, and two more caught his arms.  Zale’s hands were twisted back and up, tight towards his shoulder blades, the other’s weight forced the air from his chest.

“The Master wanted very specific outcomes when he altered those other two Warriors…wasn’t much more than an assistant for him.  Such an honor to see him work, though.  I learned so much!”

Zale froze at the mention of other Solstice Warriors.

“…those two?”  It could only be…  “No…NO!”

A hissing giggle above his head before the hand shifted from his neck to his hair, tightening in the blond locks before he was jerked off the table.  A moment of vertigo before being slammed back down onto the surface, stunning the young man momentarily.

“I need to make sure to make the most of you in thanks for the opportunity the Master has given me.”

An arm pinned Zale down across his chest, the two other hands forced Zale’s arms and legs into straps bolted to the table.  Hands tugged at his clothes, a metallic snicking echoed in the room as the fabric was cut away from his body.  Zale thrashed in his bonds, felt more straps pulled tight against his knees, his stomach, his neck.

“No!  I won’t—!”

His captor straightened as the young man shouted and exhausted himself, taking in the prize that was a Solstice Warrior.  Zale flinched as the monstrous being leaned over him, the three armed creature petting his hair with a sickening gentleness.  A scalpel flashed bright before Zale’s eyes, trailing light against his cheek before it moved down towards his chest.

“Don’t worry, pet.  I’ll take it slow, and we can find out together what you’re capable of becoming, hmm?”

The blade bit into his skin, the scream ripped out of him.

“You’ll be a work of art when we’re done!”

*

“What do you miss the most from Mooncradle?”

“Garl, that’s not...”

“No, look, he needs to focus on something…”

Zale’s head was in Garl’s lap.  He blinked slowly up at the Warrior Cook, the stars a beautiful backdrop against the young man’s silhouette.  Garl wasn’t looking down at him, he was focused on something to his side.  Zale licked his cracked lips as he considered the question.

Dry blood crumbled away from his tongue.

“I think I miss the Celestial Willow the most,” Garl continued, a soft, sad smile gently crinkling the corners of his eye.  “Its glow is so pretty, and the sap made the best jam, right?”

Zale hissed a laugh at the memory, throat convulsing in pain from even that minuscule effort.  He heard a gasp, then a low sob coming from nearby, but he needed to answer—

“G-ga..rl.”

That got Garl’s attention, face turning down to finally look at Zale.  That beautiful, warm brown was all Zale could see, the Warrior’s own bloodshot blue held in transfixed awe.

“Zale?”

He loved that brown gaze, that warm voice.  Zale never wanted to look away.

“M’ssd…Ga-rrl.”

Yes.  He had missed Garl so much in training.  And Valere was his mirror, his other half. 

They were everything.

*

The fleshy wall was unyielding as he was kicked back into it.  The giggling, grey-patchworked…thing in front of him danced in glee as Zale struggled upright, his knee giving out and sending him sprawling back down to the pulsating floor.  A hoarse scream tore from his abused throat as a blade stabbed through his hand, pinning him in place.

“Is this the best a Solstice Warrior can do?”

Zale gagged as the blade was jerked out, before plunging down into his other hand.  His voice gave out in a crackling wheeze as he twitched on the floor.  His blood blended sickeningly well with the veins that splayed across the room.

“How disappointing.”

Zale felt the snarl snag deep in his chest.  He was not.  He was made—trained to fight against the horrors of the Fleshmancer.  He was a Solstice Warrior.

“Oh?”

 He ignored the flash of agony as he raised his arm, focusing as how Erli—as he’d been shown to harness his Solar magic.  Pulling the energy to his palm…?

“Ah, trying again?”

It wasn’t gathering.  He couldn’t feel anything.

“How many times must we go through this, little boy?”

The soft tip of a brush gently caressed under his chin before tipping his face up.  The red eyes were piercing, filling Zale’s vision with their sickening glow.

“No sun, no power.  You’re nothing here.”

The heel of a grey, sutured foot collided with Zale’s temple.  

*

The fire was crackling merrily, but he still felt cold.  Zale slumped across the foot of the cave wall, shoulder propped against the basket urn that held their precious treasures.  The gentle hissing of the waves washing against the cliff below was thunder roaring in his ears.

The hideout - their hideout - was the same as he’d always known it, but…

“G-gg—”

Something was missing.

“—G’rl...?  …V’lr?”

Every twitch of his limbs shot excruciating pain through his very core.  He couldn’t focus.  Couldn’t move.  His bleary eyes shut, tears squeezing past the swollen lids.

“…hnn-g…”

He was so alone.  

He was so scared.

…he didn’t want to be here anymore.

“Zale!”

“Oh, no.  No.”

It was like he’d been punched in the chest.  Zale’s breath shuddered out of his lungs, eyes cracking open a sliver.

“Just hold on, Zale.  Don’t give up.”

Two blurry, familiar silhouettes were before the campfire, kneeling by him.

“We’re here.”

Zale felt the tears spill faster, stinging against the wounds on his face.

“We’ll always be here.”

*

It felt like something was tugging on him. 

He couldn’t move.

It hurt.

Someone was muttering over him, hissing and giggling, and he couldn’t understand.

A flash of silver buried itself into his leg.

Someone was screaming.

Notes:

In regards to Zale not having access to his Solar magic:
1). He’s too injured to fight or block, so no Live Mana to use;
2). He’s in the Fleshmancer’s Lair prior to the clouds being dispersed, so access to the sun is nonexistent. (When this was explained in game, I expected to see either Zale and Valere having most of their magic greyed out, or the strength of them halved, etc. I can’t remember if it actually was weaker, as I only played through once, and had most of the relics activated to make life easier on me.)

Chapter 2

It was warm.

Zale whimpered as hands gently rolled him onto his back, onto a soft cloth that was being carefully pulled about his shivering body.  It was warm, and had a strange, but pleasant, dusty odor.  Zale settled back, wondering where Garl had gotten the fabric.  Maybe snuck it away from the central storage?  Gran was gonna be so mad that they’d hidden some of the winter supplies in the cave again.

The hands were moving him carefully, propping him up before arms shifted under his back and legs.  Vertigo as he was lifted, cradled gently to a strong body.

“—hngg!  N-nn-”

It hurt.  It hurt it hurt it hurts it hurts hurts hurts—

“Just bear with me, Zale.”

Garl’s voice cut through the pain, but it sounded strange.  Deeper.

“—hr-s!  ii-hrs—!”

“I know, I’m sorry……This should help…”

A hand gently tipped his head away from where it had been tucked against Garl’s chest.  Zale couldn’t see much through the tears, but the form was a blur of white and red-purple against the mutated wall dark stone of their cave hideout.  The person pressed a vial against his cracked lips, and a cool liquid tipped into his mouth.  

It tasted wonderful, cool and soothing against the rawness of his mouth and throat.  He weakly tried to surge up, to get more of the liquid that trickled agonizingly slowly into him.  The vial pulled away, and he moaned at the loss.

“Slowly.  Slowly, Zale.”

The vial returned, and Zale tried to do as he was told.  Garl always told them to savor food and drink; hard to do when feeling starving after a long day of fighting monsters.

“Good.  That should be enough for now.”

The person’s warm hands carefully brushed his hair away from his face, the gentle caress distracting Zale from the vial disappearing.  He felt oddly fuzzy and numb, the pain of being held faded away.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

The arms shifted him into a better position, and the rhythmic swaying of Garl’s footsteps turned the fuzziness into darkness as Zale drifted off.

*

There was a soft rustle over him.  He could feel a breeze against his cheek, through his hair.  He could smell green.

  //“Zale, what do you mean, you can smell green??”
  “You know, like plants? Or the grass after it rains?  Green!”
  “…But the plants and grass are purple?”
  “Ahahaha!  Yes, but they smell Green, Valere!”
  “HA!  I think I know what you mean, Zale.  Yeah, I guess it does smell green!”//

Zale’s eyes cracked open, blinking at the soft light filtered through the canopy overhead.  He felt warm and numb, laying on something soft.  It felt like a bundle of fabric was surrounding him.  Had their blanket fort collapsed again?

  //“Aww, I knew the support wasn’t enough.”
  “It’s okay, we can get something better later!”
  “Yeah, it’s not bad!  Now we have a nest!”//

It was warm.  The sun was warm.  He could feel it trickling into the aching void deep inside.

The whisper of moving grass drew his eyes down from the wind-stirred leaves, and he could see…  

“Oh, my goodness!”

…Valere?

“Are you okay?”  

Valere rushed to his side, blue-silver hair flying behind her, and Zale gave his partner a weak, lopsided smile.  He’d missed her…when had they gotten separated?  They’d…they’d split up on the path to the Elder Mist, and one of those rock-goats had charged at him…

Her hands were gentle, quickly checking over his body, pressing down on his side.  The numbness faded back, a dull ache radiating from the pressure.  Was he injured?  He couldn’t remember.

“Liam!”

Who?

“Gabrielle?  What is it—Oh, Great Eagle!”

“Quickly, he’s hurt!”

Larger hands took over from Valere, the pressure and ache grew as she brushed his hair away from his face, and Zale’s breath caught as brown eyes locked with his own.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

Garl.

“We need to move you, okay?  Stay awake for me.”

  //“Zale?”//

Valere and Garl were here.

Chapter 3

Gabrielle sighed as she straightened up from the nest she and Liam had built and settled the boy into.  Having been apprenticed to the healer in town, she knew that it was easier and safer for the injured to be kept low or on the floor, on the chance they thrashed enough to fall off a bed.

And this boy was so, so injured, she didn’t dare take that chance.

The sight of him had been startling, laying bundled in bloody fabric next to the path to their cabin.  She and Liam had preparing to go to town, loading up the hand cart with various bundles and packages from storage.  They’d enjoyed the unusual summer-warm autumn day as they worked, hoping for a good trade of their furs, herbs, and dyes to prepare for the coming winter months.  

She’d noticed an odd movement and sound at the entrance to the clearing, and heard more than saw the thunder of wings as a large bird flew away.  She had left Liam for the path to their cabin, as he dug further into the shed for the last bundles.  Gabrielle tentatively ventured into the underbrush on glimpsing an odd green-blue shape against the browns, yellows, and reds of the autumn forest.  

Gabrielle remembered the chill that shot through her at realizing that the odd green-blue shape was a blanket wrapped about a body, slowly staining with blood.  The bundle shifted, and a golden head lolled to the side at the noise of her pushing through the thick grass and shrubs.  A boy had given her a dazed and weak smile, and she’d rushed forward without thinking, calling for Liam.

They’d managed to slow the bleeding, but the boy lost consciousness when Liam had picked him up.

When they had gotten the boy inside, and unwrapped him from the bloody blanket and a heavily stained robe, it was a shock to see that he was nude underneath.  The boy’s body had been sliced open and sewn shut over and over again, many of the older cuts having healed and scarred over the string binding his flesh together.  Most of the bleeding had been a deep wound in the boy’s side, reopened not long before they’d found him.  Bruising had led them to numerous broken bones and fractures — both legs broken, his left arm, and numerous ribs.  His hands were scarred disturbingly in the center of both, identical sized wounds on both the palm and back, as if a blade had been driven through them.  There were also heavy bands of scarring around his wrists and ankles, as if the boy had been tied down and struggled against his bonds.

His injuries were a horror story that Gabrielle was sure she’d never want to fully know the tale of.

They’d carefully washed and bandaged his wounds, set and stabilized what bones they could, and dressed him in one of Liam’s old nightshirts.  The boy was so thin and emaciated, he looked as if he was swimming in the cloth.

“Elle?”

Gabrielle turned to her husband, as he quietly shuffled into the bedroom.  He knelt and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, frowning worriedly at the slight form of their rescue.  The boy was shifting minutely under the blankets, mumbling quietly against whatever nightmare had hold of him.  

“I’m gonna to town.  They need to know about this,” he murmured into her blonde hair.  “Will you be okay?”

“Always so worried, Li,” she smiled at the large hunter, running a hand through his greying black hair.  “I’ll be fine.  He’s not in any condition to do anything, either.”

“I’ll try to be quick.  I doubt we’ll have enough time to get to the market like we’d planned…”

“That’s fine, the boy comes first for now.  Maybe you can go later if it doesn’t take long…”

“Yes, okay.”

Liam kissed her atop her head, gave the boy one more worried frown, then got up and left the room.  Gabrielle picked up the blanket and robe they’d discarded to the side, the fabric of both saturated with blood.  The light fabric of the blanket was patterned in beautiful green and blue geometric shapes, the robe had been a light cream linen, lined with purple; both smelled strangely of old books, dust, and the sea.  She wondered at the how the boy had been wrapped so carefully in them, at who might have left him in the forest so far from town.  She dimly wondered if they’d be able to salvage either of them for the boy.

Gabrielle gathered the blanket, robe, and scattered bandages and bottles they’d used to treat the boy, moving to the front room, when she heard him groan and shift in the nest.  She swiftly turned to see that not only was the injured boy awake, but he’d rolled over, and was attempting to push himself up on his good arm.  She rushed to his side, catching him as his arm gave out.

“Va—al…”

“No, no, don’t try to get up,” she admonished, “You’re not well.  There we go.”

He blinked blearily up at her as Gabrielle settled him back down, carefully arranging his arms and tucking the blanket back up around him.  He seemed even more pale than before, dark skin greyed out from pain and malnourishment.

“-al’er?”

His voice was rough and whispery, and she winced in sympathy.  Gabrielle smoothed his golden hair back away from his face.  

“You’re okay.  You’re safe.”

*

Liam had made good time, even with having to go back and forth from the town with the guard, after reporting the sudden appearance of the tortured boy.  Gabrielle had a worried furrow to her brow when they’d arrived, and the boy had apparently woken up while he’d been talking with the guard.  But the boy, while awake, had not reacted to the examination the guards, eyes dull and unseeing as they carefully checked his injuries, unresponsive when they tried to question him.

Liam had led them to where Gabrielle had found him, to try to figure out how the boy had gotten onto the trail to their cabin, but there was nothing.  No tracks.  No signs of struggle.  Just as if he’d been dropped out of the sky into the small clearing, just for Liam and Gabrielle to find.

One guard tried to lighten the mood, tastelessly joking that the Great Eagle had left the boy for the older couple, as they’d never had children themselves.  His senior had cuffed the novice guard about the head, bowing and apologizing to Liam for the rudeness.  He’d accepted her apology, frowning at the idea that the Great Eagle would abandon such an injured boy with an isolated couple in the woods.  It didn’t add up.

Gabrielle had come to a decision while the guard examined the injured boy, that they would keep him with them as long as they were able.  With the stormy season close at hand, it would be too dangerous to move the boy to the town; and there wasn’t a good path to and from their cabin for the aging healer to come to them, or even a better cart in which they could transport the healer or boy such a distance over the rough trails.  If he hadn’t been so injured, if the weather wasn’t turning for the worse so soon, or if they weren’t so far away…

And yet, after it all, there amazingly was still time to get back to town.  Gabrielle had insisted on him leaving for the market; she’d apparently taken stock of her supplies of medicine and bandages, along with their current food supply, and they needed more, and immediately, if they were to care for the boy.  She’d also loaded her weavings and shawls she’d made for herself the last year, the few things she had that were only for her own pleasure.  She loved to wrap herself in the lacy shawls, a reminder of her mother and her trade.  Liam had protested that, but she wouldn’t hear of it.  They needed more supplies than usual, and this was one of the few ways to do so.  It wouldn’t be the first time she’d done this, though it had been years since the last lean time.

 Gabrielle had ordered him to stay overnight, worried that he would injure himself in the dark on the long trip back.  One of the guard was still at the cabin, the older veteran staying to both keep investigating the area, and to put Liam’s worries at ease and ensure that Gabrielle would be safe while he was away.

So Liam had taken their loaded cart, and returned to town with the novice, with just enough time before the market closed.  He’d managed to made a good profit and barter from the stalls, and there was more than enough supplies to get them through the winter, even with the boy adding complications to their plans.  Even managed to get enough coin to book a room at the inn, without having to barter for that, too.

“Almost done, Liam, you can stop wearing a ditch in my floors.”

“Ah!  Sorry, Derik!”

It was late evening, and Liam was in the clinic now, the ancient healer frowning at the hunter as his apprentice sorted through the various herbs he had brought for them.  Gabrielle had apprenticed here herself before marrying him, and there still were days that Liam wondered if he’d stolen her away from her calling.  She had made it a point when helping him with gathering the dye ingredients for trade, to gather as many medicinal herbs as she could to send to her former teacher to help ease the burden of the clinic needing to wait so long to get supplies in the winter.

“You needn’t worry so much.  Gabrielle is still one of my finest students, and this boy will probably be on his way to being even healthier than he’s ever been come the end of winter.”

“Y-yes, you’re right, Derik.”

The healer nodded, and returned to sorting and cataloging the completed medicines on the other side of the room.  The gentle clink of bottles and scratch of pens was calming, reminding Liam of his younger days that he’d spent loitering and volunteering in the clinic, working up the courage to court Gabrielle.  To reach for the stars with every smile she gave him.

“Here.”

Liam startled at the large box that thumped on the counter, filled to the brim with sealed amber bottles and ceramic containers, along with a variety of envelopes, bandages, and what looked to be sheaves of papers rolled and bound with twine.  He’d intended to purchase some medicine and supplies, but this was at least double, if not triple, of what he’d requested!

“Gabrielle is good, but even she needs the best supplies to work her magic.”  Liam gaped at the gruff man, as the healer rattled off what he’d prepared.  “These should get you through the season, and those are instructions for some of the new formulas that came a few months ago.  Not sure if they’ll be better for the boy than what she knows how to make, but good to have alternatives on hand in case.  Some are from as far as Mooncradle, if you could believe it!”

“But, so many!  We can’t afford—”

“Nah, never you mind that!”  Derik waved him off, a rare smile on the man’s face.  “You don’t have to pay me back.  You both have done enough for this little clinic over the years, and this is just my way of giving a helping hand back.”

Liam was sure he still looked stunned, as he took the the heavy box from the counter.  The healer helped him with the door, then with getting the cart rearranged for the unexpected supplies.  

“Strange though, how you found him, with you both so far out there.”

It made the hunter pause again.

Because Liam agreed, and his worry grew.

Notes:

A little “interlude” away from Zale’s perspective, to give me a break from his poor mental state, and establish a bit of these OCs. These two only slightly resemble Garl and Valere, but Zale is too hurt and hallucinating to realize it. They’re both about mid 40’s.

Liam is a bit of a Samwise Gamgee in my head. Guess that makes Gabrielle a Rosie?

(Yes, I know those injuries would probably kill Zale, especially without a modern hospital's intervention. And they probably could've moved him to town w/o issues. But this is fic, and I need him to be here, damn it! *sticks fingers in ears and sticks tongue out*)

Chapter 4

Zale needed to get up, he needed to get away from here.  The ceiling loomed high overhead, and he could hear the ticking of gears and cogs.  The sound thundered in his head as as he shivered prone on the floor.  

The Acolytes had…they were on Watcher Island, in the jungle, and had been fighting the Acolytes…and they nearly—they’d gone after Garl, knocked the Warrior Cook down.  And he’d thrown himself between Garl and the dual blades that had been—had been—

“G-garl!”

  //“ZALE!!”//

He’d knocked the dual-wielder away, kept attacking, pushing them back—and gotten too close to the giant Acolyte, too far away from the group for them to react—he’d been grabbed—his sword arm pinned—

“No!”

  //“GARL!  ZALE!”
  “Valere, look OUT!”
  “No!  NO!!”//

He was being dragged into the gate—if they took him—the Acolyte with the sword was standing behind Valere—there was blood, so much blood—he needed to—he—he had—had to get to them—they weren’t—they weren’t—-

“NO!!!”

“Hey!  It’s alright!  You’re safe!”

He was being pinned down, the giant had his foot on his chest, pressing and pressing—!  He couldn’t breathe!

“Elle, he’s thrashing too much—!”

“Let him go, it’s not helping!”

Zale felt the pressure ease, and managed to twist free, scrambling away.  His shoulder hit the wall, and he flung himself backwards alongside it until his back hit another.  Agony shot up his arm and legs as he tried to push himself away from the hulking shadows approaching.

He needed to fight, but he couldn’t—it hurt so much—

“N-no—g‘way…”

“Shhsh…”

The voice was soft, and cut through the panic.  A light flared, before dimming to a soft glow of a lamp.  The figures that had been approaching him were…

“It’s alright.”

They were…

“You’re safe now.”

Silver hair and brown eyes.

They were safe.

The relief rushed cold through his limbs, and dragged Zale into darkness.

*

Zale drifted in a fog, blinking up at a rough, wooden ceiling.

“It’s too late now to take him to town.”

It was dark in the room, and he turned his head to the firelight filtering in by the door, and could see the silhouette of an older man with dark hair sitting at a table.  He looked familiar…?

“Elle, can we even help him?”

A tiny, blonde woman stepped into Zale’s view, pressing herself along the man’s back and gently embracing him.

“We will do the best we can.  Derik was very generous with the supplies, I have more than enough to help the boy.”

The man…no, Garl leaned back against her, hands wrapping over her own.  She leaned in, kissing the Warrior Cook on his cheek, blue-silver hair glittering in the flickering light.

He blinked, and it was day.  The light was odd, feeling grey and damp, streaming through the window.  He could feel that drained space inside reach for it nonetheless, trying to renew itself.

He was being propped up against a broad chest, and an older woman was carefully wrapping his aching arm, wooden splints holding it straight.  Every minor adjustment was like needles stabbing into him.  He couldn’t stop the whine spilling through his chest.

“I know, dear.  Just a bit more, and we’ll try the new tincture.”

He reached up with his good hand and grabbed hold of her wrist.

“…stop, it hurts…”

He felt the body behind him jolt, and the blonde woman before him froze.  A gentle hand caressed his cheek, and Zale blinked tears from his eyes.  The woman’s grey eyes crinkled as she smiled at him.  She had a pretty smile, making her look much younger.

“I’m sorry it hurts.  We’ll be done soon, okay?”

“…okay…”

She gently extracted herself from his weak grip, and finished tying off the splint.  A cup was pressed against his mouth, and the bitterness of the medicine caught in his throat.  He gagged and coughed, feeling arms come up to catch him as he pitched forward.

“Easy, easy!  There.”

He found himself staring up at an older man, his black hair greying at the temples.  Zale was tucked carefully in his arms, the man’s brown eyes wide and expression panicked.  A cloth gently wiped at his mouth, and he twisted away with a grimace.

“It tastes terrible, but you’ll feel better after, I promise.”

He was carefully maneuvered back up, the man’s large hands gentle as he was settled.  The cup returned, and Zale reluctantly drank the foul tasting medicine, barely keeping it down.

“Very good!  Here.” 

Something moist was pressed against his lips, and he opened his mouth without thinking.  Sweetness spread over his tongue, chasing away the aftertaste.  His eyes widened, and another spoonful was presented.  He followed the line of the spoon, to the woman’s hand, to a bowl of some kind of mushy, brown porridge in her other hand.

“Wh…who’r yo-u?”

He could feel himself tiring, fuzziness quickly taking hold of him again.  He found himself accepting more of the porridge, his sapped energy barely enough to allow him to chew and swallow.  The woman smiled sweetly at him again.

“My name is Gabrielle, this is Liam.”

“G-br’ll.  Li-m.”

The man chuckled and smiled at him.  Zale smiled back.  He looked so familiar…both were so familiar.  But he never met either before…had he?

“Close enough, for now.  What’s your name?”

“—‘m Zale.”

His eyes drifted shut, feeling a hand gently pet through his hair.  He cracked an eye open, and smiled weakly as his partner leaned forward and cupped his head.  Valere tucked a strand of silvered hair behind an ear, her violet eyes intent as she stroked his cheek. 

“—Zale.  We’re… —help you…—okay?”

He hummed tiredly in response.  Trusting that Garl and Valere were there to watch over him, Zale slipped away.

*

“I think it’s time.”

The Celestial Willow glowed brightly overhead.  He lay on his back on the purple grass, with Valere leaning over him, her hair a silver waterfall about his face.  Her violet eyes were blurred with tears.  Garl knelt down to her right, worry creasing his brow.  Zale frowned at the expressions on their faces.

“No.”

“Garl.”

 “We promised him, Valere.”

“…don’t you see it, though?  Feel it?  We can’t stay.”

Zale stiffened.  What were they—?

“We can…he needs us.”

“We’re, we’re out of time.  He needed us when he was there.  But now, they’re trying so hard to help him…and he can’t see them.  Not really.  Because of us.”

“…”

“…we’re making it worse.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and the grief tore at him.  Zale tried to shift, to pull Valere into a hug, but his arms were like lead and she shuffled away.  Her silhouette against the Willow’s leaves flickered, and Zale swore he saw the tree through her.

“Valere, what if you’re wrong?  What if we go, and he needs us?”

Go?

Valere got to her feet, a hand wiping at the tears streaming down her face.  Garl caught her other hand, halting her from backing away further.  His large hands gripped hers so tight his knuckles were white.

“I…don’t think we have any choice, Garl.  I know you feel it too…we’ve stayed too long.”

They couldn’t be talking about—no.  No.

“…”

They couldn’t.  They promised.

“Garl.  It’s time.  We have to go.”

Valere tugged Garl up beside her, both of their bodies shifting in and out of focus. Garl’s face twisted, catching himself on Valere’s shoulder, shuddering as he flickered.  Zale could barely see them.

“N-no!”

Garl’s head snapped down, anguished brown eye meeting Zale’s own.  Zale struggled up, reaching out to them—

“I’m so, so sorry, Zale.”

“Don’t!  Please!!”

He surged forward, hands grasping at air as his friends shuddered, then were gone.  Zale sprawled into the dirt, and he struggled up onto his knees through the pain.  He clutched at the withering grass, sobbing.

“…don’t leave me alone!”

 The light of the Celestial Willow flared, going bright, to dim, then brighter still.  

“Come back, please!”

The bark of the trunk convulsed, crackling and shattering as if it was burning from the inside.  

“PLEASE!!”

A sickly red streaked through its glow, then the Willow went dark, leaves curling and falling like ash.

Notes:

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Chapter 5

Gabrielle was worried.

Liam was outside, prepping his winter trapping gear, and getting ready to go out to set them.  She knew it would be a while before he returned, so she’d had Liam carry Zale out to the main room.  He’d settled the boy into his chair by the fireplace, and Gabrielle wrapped him in blankets to prevent chills.  She’d helped Zale eat, then took up her yarn and needles that she’d been forced to set aside while they helped Zale heal.

It had been over three months now, and while the boy’s physical wounds were healing, his mental stability kept fluctuating.  They’d had that early breakthrough, with the boy finally becoming aware of his surroundings, but it had been short lived.

“…Val?”

A gentle tug on her skirt.  Zale had moved, and now knelt next to her chair, curled up with his head pillowed on her knee.  He had twisted to look up at her, but his eyes were not focused.  He was seeing his Valere again.

She took it as a compliment.  During one of his better days, Zale had haltingly described a beauty of a girl, a girl he considered to be a sister, strong and kind.  Similarly, she knew Liam felt humbled at Zale mistaking him for his friend.  Garl had sounded incredibly amazing, steadfast and ever cheerful.  Gabrielle wondered if Zale knew how smitten he’d sounded while describing the two.  

She hoped they were safe, that they hadn’t suffered as this wisp of a boy had.

Another tug on her skirt, more insistent.

“Valere?”

“Yes, Zale?”  She knew she shouldn’t encourage his hallucinations, but…he sounded so lost and sad.

“Why’re we in Mirth again?”

Mirth?  Was that Zale’s hometown?  Gabrielle wondered where it was, if they could get word to the town to let them know that Zale was here…

“You, you were hurt.  We came here to get you healed up.”

“Oh.”

Zale’s blank gaze turned back to the fireplace.  Gabrielle gently ran a hand through his hair, wishing that there was some kind of medicine that she could give him that would heal his mind along with his body.

*

Liam shivered as he walked along the snowy trails, carefully setting the tools of his trade out.  He only had one left, and having taken his bow with him, Liam had managed to get some a couple of rabbits for some fresh meat.  Stew would be good on this cold day.

Soon he’d be back home to help Gabrielle with Zale.  

It wasn’t that the boy was difficult, per se — rather, he was almost placid in everything they asked of him when physically treating him.  But his distressed confusion when they tried to correct him on who they were…that was hard.  The boy panicked at the implication that his friends were not there, clinging to them and begging them to not abandon him.

It tore at his heart, and knew it was the same for Gabrielle.

She cared so much, and it was that deep well of empathy that ultimately forced her to stop working as a healer in town.  It was years ago that disease had tore through the town.  It had hit too hard for her, too close to how she’d lost her parents, so that she wore herself down to nothing in caring for her patients.  She’d gotten sick herself, had nearly been paralyzed from it.  Liam knew she felt like she’d failed town; was unable to take the losses of so many.  They’d left the town after she’d healed and they’d married, Gabrielle too heart-hurt and wanting to get away from the painful memories.

And now having Zale with them, being so injured, and the wounds becoming not anything they could really touch.  He could at least give Gabrielle a breather from caring for the boy.

The trail was looping back around to the cabin, and he picked up his pace.  He could see the cabin in the distance, the smoke rising from the chimney, and a warm glow cast from the windows onto the snow in the clearing.  Liam crunched through the last bit of fresh snow piled in the trail, pausing at the door to knock the snow from his boots.

He could hear the slap of footsteps on the floor just before the door jerked open, hearing Gabrielle shout from within the cabin.  Liam briefly saw a blanket-wrapped form silhouetted in the frame, before a body hit his and he toppled backwards into a snowdrift.  He dropped the rabbits as his arms automatically came up to catch the laughing boy as they fell.  Panic bloomed in his chest at the realization that Zale might hurt himself again.

“Zale!”

“Hi, Garl.  M’ssed you.”  The words were lightly slurred, and Zale smiled vaguely at the hunter.  

Ah.  That explained Gabrielle’s heartbroken expression as she stepped outside.

She helped Liam carefully pick them out of the snow, grabbing the discarded rabbits while he brushed the powder off of the boy.  He gave Gabrielle a worried look as he steered them both into the warm cabin.  He settled Zale on the floor before the fireplace, joining his wife to the side at the counter.

“He’s been like this for a while now.”

“I think we’re going to need more help here, Elle.”

His wife sighed, mouth twisting into an unhappy frown.  Liam drew her into his arms, resting his chin on her head.

“We’re out of our depth now.  You said he’s pretty much physically healed, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then we do what we can to build his strength back up.  Once spring comes, the weather will give us a chance to get him to town.  Someone, if not Derik, will know something on how to help him.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

Liam gave her a tight squeeze, and a gentle kiss.  They had a plan.  Just had to wait for the season to turn.

Notes:

He’s their kid now. These two OCs never had children, but they’ve definitely, unconsciously adopted Zale at this point.

(I love these OCs now, can you tell?)

Dunno if anyone is actually following this fic, but I'm running out of my buffer. Might not be an update next week...

Chapter 6

The sun was out and the energy was like a warm balm on his soul, despite the cold.

“How’re you doing there, Zale?”

They were outside the cabin, the snow carefully swept away to make a little clearing between the building and shed.  Zale was sitting on a bench beside the door, wrapped heavily in blankets.  He took a deep breath of the biting air, reveling in how his ribs finally didn’t hurt.

“Good.  Comfy.”

Garl gave him a smile, turning back to the wood he was chopping.  Valere was inside, making lunch for the three of them.  (Which was weird, she usually didn’t like cooking…)  She was the one who insisted that Zale go out with Garl, saying something about how he needed the fresh air.

And he did.  It was invigorating.  He’d been down for so long, and while still sore, Valere had assured him and Garl that his legs were healed enough to walk longer distances.  But Garl still had been the one to cocoon him up in all the blankets, muttering about not wanting him to get sick.

He didn’t tell them about how he felt like he already was, not wanting to worry them more.  Sometimes he couldn’t hear what they were saying to him; he would space out, jerking to awareness at a question they’d asked him, realizing that hours had gone by.

There were times when he looked at them, and they didn’t feel right.

He frowned up at the cloudless sky, and let the light filling him distract from the worry curling in his gut.

*

Valere had him exercising regularly now, and Zale fell back into it eagerly.  He felt so weak, and all the enforced rest had made him antsy.  It was also a welcome distraction from the realization that he had gaps in his memory, losing bits and pieces of the previous days.  Of the feeling that his barely remembered nightmares were important.

It was odd though…Valere had refused to spar with him, grey purple eyes startled when he’d asked her.  It wasn’t like she would hurt him, even as weak as he felt now.  Still, he couldn’t force her.

Zale grunted as he pushed against the wall of the bedroom, carefully planting his feet further back so he’d feel the burn in his arms more.  Garl worried that he was pushing himself too much, but Brugaves Headmaster Moraine had been careful to instill into them proper techniques so as to not injure themselves (or at least injure themselves further.)  He knew that he’d have to work back up to being able to do this fully horizontal to the ground, even if it rankled that it was taking longer that he’d thought.

Zale had positioned himself next to the window, so he could get the most of the last of the sunset streaming in.  The red-orange looked like a painting against the dark silhouettes of trees in the distance.  His magic wasn’t fully back yet, and he worried at how long it was taking.  While this wasn’t as good as being directly outside, the yard had turned into a muddy, slushy mess with the season changing.  Too dangerous to train out there now.

“Ouch!”

There was a metallic clatter from the front room, and Zale heard Garl shout in alarm.  Zale jerked away from the wall, rushing through the bedroom door to see Valere clutching her hand, Garl frantically grabbing a cloth to press against it, red soaking swiftly into the fabric.

Blood dripped and splattered onto the table, a knife glinting from where it had fallen to the floor.

All he could see was the splatter of red, the horrible wound in his partner’s hand.  It was exactly like the wounds in his own hands, where one of those grey things had stabbed him…his blood was dripping from them as he stumbled forward.

The room spun, the reddish light of the room seemed to pulse around them all.  The floor felt like it was flexing under him, his feet tripping over themselves and the uneven veins as he desperately rushed to their side.   

He couldn’t hear them when he reached Valere; her lips were moving, and Garl was trying to push him back, but the roaring in his ears blocked out whatever they were trying to say.

When had they been captured?  Was this his fault, too?

His hands clenched around Valere’s wrist, forcefully pulling her hand towards himself.  He shakily brushed the cloth away, and placed his hand over the cut.

It didn’t matter.  He could fix this.

Zale felt the energy pulling from deep within, his hand tingling as he concentrated, a faint glow emanating from between their palms.  Valere and Garl froze, staring as the light grew brighter and brighter and brighter.

He had to fix this.

Zale trembled as he lifted his hand, his breath releasing in an explosive gasp as he stared at Valere’s palm.  He wiped the blood away with his thumb, revealing unblemished skin underneath.  

“Zale, how—?”

It…it worked?  His magic was back?

Zale beamed as he looked up, catching their shocked expressions for a brief moment before his knees buckled.

Everything went dark.

*

Zale woke in the nest in the bedroom, curled on his side with his arms splayed out before him.  The tremors in his hands were worrying, fingers shaking before he clenched them into fists.  He needed to get better…had to get back into fighting shape so when they went to Watcher Island, he could prevent…

…so he could prevent……?  

Prevent what?

The anxious clench in his stomach didn’t give him any clues, and Zale sighed.  He could hear a commotion from the front room, and he wondered what his friends were up to.

“E̸̢̬̺̹̿̐͑̇ḷ̷̝̈́̆̋̏l̷̘̖̂͠ë̷̬́̿̈́̽͘, that was magic…”

“Yes, it was…but I’ve never seen this kind before.” 

Zale levered himself up, wrapping himself in one of the blankets, and shakily walked to the door.  

“But you’ve heard of it?” Garl’s voice was shaken, and incredulous.

“It was light…who else uses light?”

“You can’t mean that Zale is—?”

He leaned against the frame, watching as Garl knelt before Valere.  She was sitting slumped at the table, eyes on Garl’s hands as they cradled hers.  Those hands were shaking as his thumbs rubbed over the palm of her hand.  

“Ļ̶̰̌́̋͊i̸̼͋͐a̵͖̿͊͒̀̌m̴͖̺̳̘̅̽̕͠, it’s the only explanation I can think of.”

 Garl’s shoulders shuddered as he let out a shaky sigh.  Valere gently extracted her self from his grip, running a hand through Garl’s dark hair and gently resting her forehead against his.  She leaned in and gave the larger man a soft kiss before noticing Zale was in the doorway.  

His stomach lurched at the intimate sight.  When had they—?

“Zale, you feeling better?”

“…a little.  Did something happen, Val?

Valere’s eyes widened, and Garl’s head turned to stare at him incredulously.  

“What?” Garl’s sharp exclamation seemed to snap around him, and Zale’s gut clenched again.  He wrapped his arms around himself…he’d lost track of something again.  

“E̸̢̬̺̹̿̐͑̇ḷ̷̝̈́̆̋̏l̷̘̖̂͠ë̷̬́̿̈́̽͘ cut herself.”

“You’re hurt?”  Zale’s stomach plummeted, eyes snapping to Valere.  “…V-Val?”

“No, you…you healed her, Zale.”

They were staring at him, worry twisting their faces.  Valere stepped up to him, lifting her hand to show him, rubbing at the palm with a thumb.

“I cut my hand, and you healed it with light, Zale.  You...really don’t remember?”

“I…did?”  

Zale couldn’t…he…couldn’t remember.  He didn’t understand why he was losing time, why he couldn’t concentrate.  He was…he was forgetting……And now, they knew.  

(They knew and they were going to leave.  Because he wasn’t good enough…he couldn’t save them, and it was all his fault—)

“Oh, Zale.”

Arms were wrapping around him, stilling his shaking.  When had that happened?

“Wh-what?  V-val?”

The room was spinning, a tightness in his chest that was growing, and Zale didn’t know what was going on.  What was happening…?

“Breathe with me, okay?”

A hand pressed against his chest, and Zale sucked in a wet, shuddering breath, feeling another pair of arms wrap around them both.  He sobbed, letting her hand tuck his head down into her neck, feeling a large hand gently rub his back.

“Just breathe.”

“You’re alright…We have you.”

Notes:

Some tiny time jumps here. Trying to get this moving to where I want it.

Zale is consciously and unconsciously avoiding the truths staring him in the face, and how he got hurt. Between the betrayal of Erlina and Brugaves, and his capture and torture, he’s not in a good place, even if he’s physically healing. It isn’t helping that he’s blocking out a lot of what had happened.

Zale is feeling a little jealous over seeing “Valere” kiss “Garl,” but as he was/is oblivious to his feelings for either of them, he’s just confused/hurting in silence.

He absolutely overextended his magic there, using too much energy for the cut Elle had.

Chapter 7

The energy signature had been faint…but clearly had been Solstice magic.  It hadn’t taken long to trace it…Two had dedicated much of her time to keeping track of the meddling Warriors for so long, it was nothing to locate the source.

It came from the same island she was assigned to…from a boy hidden deep in the forest.

It wasn’t impossible that the Warriors had discovered her presence on the island, but Three and Four insisted that they had all the insufferable Solstice born distracted in the area north of Brisk.  One had to intervene in their bickering, then assigned Two to observe and deal with the problem of the wayward Warrior, if necessary.

In the weeks that followed the spark of energy, Two had found the boy to be a strange riddle.  He was powerful, the amount of Solar energy that he was drawing into himself surpassed anything they had observed from the Warriors they had been tracking and distracting.  But he was also recovering from severe injuries and suffering from hallucinations; and instead of being treated in the Warrior’s safe haven of Mooncradle, he was hidden away in the woods with two unremarkable sheep from this island.

The boy was an impossibility…but with his isolation from his brethren, along with how broken he appeared to be, perhaps he could be a useful one.  If she was right — if this young, broken Warrior could be utilized — then it could shave decades off their timetable.

Two smiled.  She had work to do, and One needed to be briefed on her plan.

*

 

The trip to town couldn’t come sooner…Zale had steadily gotten worse as they waited for the trail to clear.

Physically, he was fully healed, faster than anything Gabrielle had ever seen.  Zale was continuing to exercise, and was getting stronger by leaps and bounds every day.  Perhaps it was a quirk from being a Solstice Warrior?  He’d healed her with magic, so maybe he was healing and boosting himself, even unconsciously?

But mentally…mentally, Zale was deteriorating; every day he slipped a little further.  They’d sometimes find him curled in the nest, or tucked into a corner, eyes blank and unseeing for hours at a time.  When they managed to get him to focus, he wouldn’t entirely understand where he was, only briefly focusing on them, then getting caught in some memory or another.

There were other times where he would lash out, reacting to some unknown stimuli.  The brief times she and Liam had taken Zale outside for fresh air, he had reacted to something…shoving at them to get back to the cabin, shouting defiantly at nothing…once even dashing into the forest, hands flaring with fiery energy.  Liam had managed to catch Zale before he hurt himself, or set the area on fire; and for once, Gabrielle was grateful that the forest was still so saturated from the storms.  Zale had come back inside with extreme reluctance, muttering about needing to protect them.  Liam left as soon as the young man quieted, carefully scouring the areas around the clearing, trying to see what might have set the boy off…to find nothing out of the ordinary.

They needed help.

Today, they were stuck inside, a light drizzle kept them cabin-bound; Liam had gone out to the shed, finishing up on the last steps of curing and tanning his furs for the trip, and Zale was curled next to Gabrielle’s chair on the floor, fiddling with the yarns in her baskets.  A vague frown pulled on his face as he picked through them; he’d pull a skein from the pile, turning it over and over again while his fingers dug into the yarn, before either discarding the mangled skein back into the basket or adding to the heap in his lap.

“Not…here?  But…it was……’m made sure…”

Gabrielle set her nearly complete shawl aside, then leaned over and gently laid her hand on the young man’s, stilling them from digging again into the basket.

“Zale, what are you looking for?”

“……need t’ make cloth…a weaving…Headmaster said we need t’ make one.”

“A weaving?”

“…mmm.  Yours is done…but I can’t find...is it done?  No, not done.……Val…where is it?”

Zale turned his unfocused gaze up at Gabrielle, and her heart broke even more at his confusion.  She ran a hand gently over his hair, smiling sadly as Zale’s eyes fluttered closed and leaned into the caress.  She frowned as she thought, eyeing the various supplies she had in the wardrobe Liam had built her.

There had been a small loom that she’d inherited from her mother, but she’d never really used it, preferring to knit or crochet her work.  But maybe…while they waited, Zale could use it?  Something for him to do, other than exercise…something to distract him with?

Gabrielle stood and carefully dug into the drawers at the base of the wardrobe, moving the variety of tools she’d accumulated over the years for her hobby.  There in the bottom drawer, wrapped carefully in one of her mother’s blankets, was the small loom.  Gabrielle lifted it with a smile, and turned to Zale.

“Val...?”

“Here, Zale, let’s get you set up.”

Gabrielle gently pulled the boy up and settled him into her chair, then pulled the side table before him.  She carefully unwrapped the loom and set it down on the table, and smiled as Zale’s eyes widened.  He shakily ran a hand over the wood, a smile slowly spreading on his face.

It didn’t take long for them to set the loom up, threading the yarns he’d claimed through the machine and wrapping the shuttles.  As soon as they were done, Zale immediately started passing the shuttle through, humming softly under his breath as he worked.

Gabrielle smiled as she watched.  This was the most focused she’d seen Zale since she’d cut herself.  Maybe this could help settle him.

*

It was progressing better than she’d hoped.

Two smiled at the cabin, hidden carefully in the shadows of the forest.  The young Warrior was highly sensitive to her presence, immediately zeroing in on her when she extended her magic.  He’d shouted at her, pushing away from the sheep that had been caring for him, chasing her deeper into the forest once.  The strength of the light flaring in his hands was both terrifying and exhilarating as Two fled deeper into the wood, briefly utilizing a portal to escape the threat.

  //“You won’t hurt them again!  I won’t let you!”//

The boy had come in contact with them before…though where, Two couldn’t recall.  Not that it mattered.  The boy was unraveling with each time she allowed him to see her, and Two knew it was only a matter of time before she could twist his breaking into something useful.

The two sheep caring for him could be the key; the Warrior was confusing them for others he had been close to.  The sheep had been discussing it, that the boy was mixing them up with his previous partners.  The ones he was desperate to protect, and apparently failed to.

Yes, Two could use them.  A sacrifice always provided a boost to their tasks, and these two could be perfect for breaking this Solstice Warrior further.

*

The forest was beautiful, and Liam never got tired of walking this path to the town.  And it was extremely pleasant for the season; the day was sunny and warm, and the trail had dried enough to allow their trip to finally happen.

Liam took a deep breath in of the scent of new greenery and flowers, the trees just starting to unfurl the buds decorating them.  He pulled the cart laden with the furs he’d tanned during the winter, and smiled sadly as Gabrielle led Zale along the trail.

Zale wasn’t reacting to much as they walked, eyes unfocused as Gabrielle gently steered him with an arm about the boy’s shoulders.  They had found that while Zale would focus intently on the weaving he was making, but anything outside of that the boy would retreat back into himself.  His outbursts when outside the cabin had also stopped, no longer rushing into the forest to chase after shadows.  But despite that progress, it took longer and longer to get him to wake each day, and Liam feared that the strength Zale had regained would waste away again.

“Look at that, Zale, isn’t it pretty?”

Zale blinked up at what Gabrielle was pointing at, the barest hint of his brows tightening as he stared into the small clearing.  There was a beautiful tree next to one of the creeks that meandered away from the river next to the town.  All the branches were covered in early blooms, and the heady scent of apple blossoms was drifting to them on the slight breeze.

“What do you think, Liam?  This looks like a good stop for an early lunch?”

They normally didn’t take a break on their way to town, and while they still haven’t even reached the halfway point in the trail…Zale was swaying in place, Gabrielle’s worried eyes locked with Liam’s as she supported the boy.

“Looks pretty good to me.  Give me a moment to get the cart settled, and we can have a picnic under the tree.”

It was short work to set up for lunch, spreading the blanket he’d covered the cart with on the ground at the base of the tree.  Gabrielle settled Zale down with his back against the trunk, gently pressing one of her sandwiches into his hands.  The boy ate absentmindedly, his eyes slowly roving over the clearing, lingering on the glittering water of the creek.

Liam sighed as he settled next to Gabrielle, smiling as she handed him another sandwich.  Zale seemed calm, and sitting here, he looked far more aware than he had been in the last few days.  Even if they couldn’t find help in the town, they could get word back to the other Solstice Warriors; let them know one of their own was here.  And if Zale ended up staying with them…perhaps, if they continued to bring him out into the forest, with a change of scenery, he would recover.

*

It was a idilic scene…one that Two was more than happy to ruin.

The boy’s head snapped to her hiding spot as she relaxed her hold on her magic, allowing the energy to pulse about her wildly.  The sheep immediately reacted to his sudden alertness, the large man immediately wrapping an arm about the Warrior’s waist as he scrambled up to charge at her.

“Zale!  What—?”

Two smirked as she stepped out from the wood, enjoying the way the sheep stiffened as she approached.  The Warrior’s face contorted in a snarl as he struggled with the man, shoving the woman away when she grabbed hold of his arm.  He managed to twist far enough to break free, and lunged at Two.

“Don’t—no!  I won’t let you hurt them!”

His speed was still startling, and Two was barely able to shift to avoid the flare of energy trailing from the Warrior’s hands as he swung at her.  She ducked and sidestepped, focusing her energy on the ground beneath them.

The explosion of energy and rock she shot up knocked the boy back, and the second blast from her staff threw him back into the tree.  It stunned the Warrior for the moment, the boy curling in on himself with a pained gasp.

“Zale!”

Two smirked as the woman immediately ran to the Warrior’s side, while the man threw himself between them, throwing his arms out wide as if he could protect the two from her.

“Who are you?  What do you want?”

“Me?  I’m just a simple Acolyte, hoping to fulfill my duties to my Master.  As for what I want?  From you?  Only one thing.”  Two gave the sheep an extravagant bow, smile hidden behind her mask; but the way the man stiffened as she straightened and stepped forward again, he could hear it in her voice.  Surprising that he recognized the tone, considering the isolated and idilic life these sheep lived.

“But from him?”  Two deliberately turned to face the Warrior as he groaned, trying to get his breath back.  “Oh…the potential with him…A Warrior of his strength could be of use to the Fleshmancer.  Willing or no.”

The shock and fear that spiked from the sheep was so thick that she could almost taste it.  And the rage that twisted on the boy’s face…oh, he was so easy to manipulate.

“Elle.  Get Zale up and run.”

The sheep didn’t wait to see if they obeyed him, and charged at her, his face set with hopeless determination.  Two cocked her head at the brazen attempt, though she supposed it shouldn’t be too surprising.  These two had appeared to be quite attached to this broken boy.

“L-liam?!”

“Garl!  N-no!”

It was laughable, really, how fast the sheep fell to her spells.  The energy flashed bright from the ground and speared through the man before he could even reach her.  The woman screamed and rushed forward, and with a flick of her wrist, Two sent another spike of her spell up through the earth.

“No…”

The boy was frozen in place, eyes wide as he stared at the woman falling.  Two hummed to herself as she stepped around the prone forms, giving her staff a brief twirl as she pulled more energy into another spell.  Now…to make the boy crack that final bit.

A hand clamped on her ankle and Two jerked to a stop.  The man was still alive; he’d twisted himself around and dared to lay a hand on her.  Two snarled, and spun to swing her staff and knock the fool away—and that also jerked to a stop as the hook slapped into the woman’s palm.

“Z-zale…run!”

“You h-have to g-get away!”

Two started to laugh at the absurdity of it all.  Two sheep, barely worth the energy their deaths would bring in their sacrifice, defiantly fighting to save a broken Solstice Warrior.  She kicked the woman’s grasping hand free of her leg, swinging her heel back down to crack against the sheep’s head.  

She immediately went limp, and Two swung her staff back again, snarling at the man still clinging to her leg.  A surge of energy behind her made Two pause, a sudden intense heat and crackle of flames flaring behind her.

“No!  Val—Garl!”

Two swung, knocking the sheep off of her, then opened a portal just below her feet.  She could feel the power as it shot overhead as she fell, and then the brief, shrill screams of the sheep as they burned.

Two smiled as she landed lightly on her feet, hidden in the shadows of the forest on the opposite bank of the creek.  The clearing and part of the forest was on fire, and was quickly spreading…and the boy was kneeling in the center of it all, staring blankly at the minute twitching of the burning sheep.  

“G-Garl—?  V-al-ere—?”

When they finally went still, the boy sobbed.  He crawled forward, hands shaking as he knelt over them, a blinding glow emitting from his palms and soaking over the still forms.  The Warrior shook them with increasing panic, a faint whine in the back of his throat.  When the sacrifices proved to be too damaged to be healed by even the power erupting from the boy, the whine turned to a scream.

*

The forest was burning.

Someone was screaming.

He couldn’t hear over the roar of the flames and the wailing.  

There were two bodies laying in front of him…

It was his fault they were…they were……

They weren’t healing.

They weren’t moving…

It was because of his magic.

It was his fault.

It was always his fault.

They were burning because of his magic.

He hated it.

He didn’t want it.

He wasn’t safe.

…

……

Could he…get rid of it?

If he…wore it out…then maybe…he wouldn’t be dangerous anymore?

He lost it before…hadn’t he…?

Yes…it could work…he just had to exhaust it all……

He concentrated and the flames grew higher.

The wailing stopped.  The roar of fire grew.

The forest was burning.

*

The boy was more powerful than Two ever imagined.  And the inferno was beautiful in its intensity.

Two’s smile grew, watching the flames curl and lick at the trees.  The woods were still damp, spring such a dreary thing on this island, but with the sheer strength of the fire and heat, it didn’t matter.  

The boy still knelt by the sacrifices, clutching at his head with one hand, fingers tightly wound and tugging at the blond hair.  The other he held aloft, a bright spark of light shivering and dancing over his palm.  With every flicker of the small spark, the flames that ate the forest grew higher.

Oh…this was better than she’d planned.  One would be very pleased.

Now to herd him...they had a Duke to bait.

Notes:

I hated to do that, but this was always these two OCs fates for this story. *cuddles OCs* I’ll write you two into something nicer later, my babies.

Listening to Eternal Bonds of the Warrior Cook and Suikoden’s Theme of Sadness #2 on endless repeat to get me in the mood for this chapter…whoo those two back to back really hit your feels.

 

Notes:

I am not calling what Valere and Zale did in the Academy sewing. They were weaving. They had looms (and they look like basic looms, without treadles. On that note, that’s as much knowledge on looms that I have. How they work is magic to me…)

Zale…doesn’t have much control over how much energy he’s using now. He used a Sunball, but didn’t realize how he’d gotten used to trying to pull as much energy as he could while in the Lair.

If Seraï can use a portal underneath herself to do cool attacks, so can others who have the ability (I’m assuming it’s Two that makes the portals). Them’s the rules.

Chapter 8

The missive Ewilda sent had been short and worried, and Duke Theobald Aventry had immediately cut his trip around the various islands short.

Thankfully, the town they had been aiding sympathized and supported his urgency to get home; it helped that most of the tasks of shoring up the small, isolated island from the increasing monster attacks were well in hand with the locals now.  He still left a small handful of willing volunteers, who could help in the town’s defense, and immediately set sail towards Lucent.

As they sailed back, the enormous plume of smoke rising in the distance spoke of an immense fire.  The sight of it had made dread curl in the Duke’s gut before they’d made landfall, and for a moment he panicked, thinking that it was the Manor that was burning.  But on circling the island and anchoring at the docks, the smoke was rising from the eastern side of the island, towards the old graveyard.

Ewilda met him at the entrance to the town, her face drawn with worry.  There was an underlying panic permeating through Lucent, guards and civilians alike flying around as they readied for the worst should the flames change direction and start eating their way to the town.

“Theo!  Thank you for coming home so quickly…”  Her voice shook as she glanced at the smoke rising in a dark plume in the distance.

“Always, Ewilda,” Theo gathered her into his arms, taking a brief moment to enjoy how she fit in his embrace.  “What is happening?  How is there a fire?”

“We…aren’t certain.  I sent some of the guard to investigate when we first noticed the smoke, but they haven’t returned.”

“Hmm…”  Theo turned to stare in the direction of the smoke.  “Do you have everything in hand here, my love?”

“Yes.  I’ve also set up a team to head to the docks, should the worst happen and the fires turn to us.  With your return, we have enough ships that we can evacuate if necessary.”

“Then I will take any you can spare with me to investigate.”

“Take Sergeant Della and her unit with you.  Her patrol has just returned from evacuating the area to the north of the fires, and they’ve been clamoring to go out and do more.”

Theo smiled and gently kissed Ewilda, wishing that the circumstances were better than this threat to the island and their charges.  His love melted briefly into the kiss, before pulling away and pushing him to his soldiers.

“Please be careful, my love.”

“Always, Ewilda.  I will return soon.”

*

The Celestial Willow was surrounded by ash, its burned trunk flickering with sickly red light.  Zale collapsed before it, staring at the blackened wood with dull eyes.  His hand dropped from where he had been holding his spell, too exhausted to maintain it, while the other still tugged harshly at his hair.  Zale could feel a sharp sting as he pulled, hairs giving in to his yanking.

“…”

There was something important…something he had to do.  He’d returned here for something as night fell, but couldn’t remember…it all looked wrong…

“Zale?”

The voice was soft, a barely there whisper of sound in the unnatural quiet surrounding him.  A hand rested on his shoulder, gently tipping him into an embrace as a hand covered his eyes.  His head swam with exhaustion and leaned into the gentle hold, eyes fluttering closed as his head pressed against a soft cloth.

“You seem tired.”

“…hnnn...v-Val-ere?”

There was a chuckle in his ear, a thumb brushed softly against his forehead.  The hand on his shoulder gently pulled his hand away from his hair, and he felt himself being tipped further down to the ground.

“Sleep.  It will all be better in the morning.”

Sleep sounded good…he was so tired……

“We’ll go to another area tomorrow.  There’s still more for you to do, if we’re to get him where we want him.”

*

It was a young man…hardly more than a boy.

The Duke hung back, staring at the staggering form of the arsonist, motioning his soldiers to halt.  The boy was short, his clothes hanging off his body in baggy, charred folds, and he mumbled to himself as he slowly shuffled forward.  There were odd, bare patches on his scalp, some of the areas streaked with dried blood.  Theo would have believed that this soot and blood stained waif was a survivor of the wildfires that were unnaturally raging through the forest…if not for two things.

The bright spark hovering above the boy’s palm, flames flaring from the light intermittently, and one of the standard issue swords given to the soldiers of Lucent clenched in his other hand.

The fires would flare to their highest point during the day, but as evening fell, the flames would diminish before reducing to mere smoldering ash.  As dawn broke on the next day, a new section of the forest would light up, the fires roaring skyward as if in anger.

They’d found the bodies of the missing soldiers yesterday, their bodies twisted and blackened, nearly hidden underneath layers of ash and toppled trees.  There were signs of the young soldier and his mentor having been in a fight, covered in wounds from a blade; likely from the sword the young man had now, as the elder mentor was missing hers.

The day was fading, and the flickering light the boy was channeling dimmed into nothing, and the slight form swayed as his hand dropped.  He stood motionless now, blinking slowly at the charred ground.

“…wh-where…’m not……?”

Theo motioned for the soldiers to hold their position, Sergeant Della giving him a curt nod, and carefully circled the boy, one hand tensed and ready on his sword.  He stopped a good distance away, not wanting to startle the disturbed youth.  The young man didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t even seem to register that someone was before him.

“Hello, there,” Theo called softly, frowning as the boy swayed in place.  “Young man…?”

“…hnn?”

The dazed blue gaze came up finally, and the change in his demeanor was instantaneous.  The young man stiffened, eyes going wide before drawing down in a snarl of fury.

“You—!”

Theo barely had time to react; one second the boy was standing yards away, then a sword was arcing down on him.  He managed to duck to the side, drawing his own sword to barely block the second strike.  Despite the gaunt look to the boy, the strength of the blows knocked him back, further away from his shouting soldiers.

“My Lord!”

“All of you, stay back!”

Fire erupted about them, and Theo barely had time to see the soldiers scramble back as the flames burst before them.  The sudden line of fire could easily turn into another all consuming inferno, killing him and his soldiers; Theo had to end this quickly.

Easier said, than done.

The boy was fast, and highly skilled with the sword.  Every move Theo made, he was immediately dodged or blocked.

“You!  You took them!”

“What?”

“It’s your fault!”

The young man’s voice cracked as he shouted, grief twisting his face.  His movements grew more erratic as Theo backed away, swings wilder and less in control.  Tears were streaking down the boy’s sooty face, and Theo took advantage of it, managing to drive him back towards the smoldering tree line.

“It’s—it’s y-your…fault…”

Something was wrong with this boy.

“Stop this!  I don’t wish to fight you!”

This got Theo another flurry of blows, the boy’s voice breaking on a scream as he charged.  But this time—the Duke parried an uncoordinated swing and followed up with his own series of attacks.  The young man stumbled back, and finally, Theo felt his blade connect; he grimly stood his ground as the boy stumbled and clutched at his side.  The flames behind him began to gutter and go out, though the intense heat of it still lingered.  Theo could just see his soldiers shifting into position, waiting for the right moment to move in.

“Stand down, boy!”

“No—no—”

The young arsonist staggered further back, shaking his head and his eyes flicked wildly over the line of soldiers, then lingered back on Theo.  His grip on the sword tightened, even as a flare of bright light flickered between his fingers overtop the wound in his side.

Theo felt cold realization rush through him, staring at the bright light.

He—couldn’t be—

“Stand down,” Theo repeated, voice tight and grim; he shifted minutely, carefully adjusting his center of balance in case the boy decided to attack again.  “You will not be harmed further, if you yield.”

The light in the boy’s hand and flames surrounding them all finally went out, and the soldiers advanced slowly forward to flank the Duke, weapons at the ready.  The waif stiffened briefly, then shook his head again and stumbled away, reaching with his bloody hand to clutch at his head.  Theo briefly stared at the gaping hole in the boy’s shirt, the skin heavily smeared with blood, but the wound now nothing more than a dark, discolored scar.

“All of you hold the line.  Engage only if he targets you,” Theo ordered, keeping his eyes on the swaying youth.  “I simply wish to talk.  Put the sword down.”

“…no.  You, you…you took them from me.  You killed—you killed them!”

The boy released his hair and thrust his bloody hand before him, another flare sputtering before his palm, coalescing into an orb of flames. Theo wasted no time, charging forward and feinting to one side.  The spell went wide, and the Duke could hear the soldiers scatter with startled shouts.

 His swings were barely blocked by the youth, the boy gasping as each blow connected with his sword.  Theo gave him no time to gather himself, not wanting another blast of magic to target him or his soldiers.

“I have done nothing, boy!  Stand!  Down!”

Another flurry of blows knocked the arsonist back, a scream torn from the youth as he managed to score another hit on his opponent’s side.  The boy tripped over the uneven, scorched ground, clutching at the new wound, still stubbornly gripping his sword.

“Yield.”  Theo leveled his blade at the boy, and the youth’s blue eyes went wide, staring at him.  His sword flashed in a blur again, knocking Theo’s to the side and thrust his blood smeared hand up once more.

“My Lord!  Look out!”

Bright light flared between him and the boy, and Theo felt himself be thrown back; the dizzying sensation of being hurled through the air came to painful end against the scorched earth.  He skidded through the dark dirt, shouting in pain as his momentum rammed him into one of the felled trees.  Theo groaned as he lay there, his breath sucked in with a pained ache; he rolled to his side to try to take stock of what was happening, shook his head to try to clear the spots in his vision.  

He could hear the soldiers shouting, the sounds of their feet pounding on the ground as one helped lever him into a sitting position.  Theo’s vision finally cleared, and stood with the help of the sergeant at his side.  The woman carefully held him steady as the world spun for a moment.  The other soldiers were circled about them, crouched in a defensive position, while he could see the rest returning from the far tree line.

The boy was gone.

“My Lord, are you hurt?”  Della’s deep voice was worried as she carefully checked him over, dark eyes flicking over him and a tight frown pulled at her mouth.

“No, I’m fine,”  Theo sighed as the soldiers regrouped before him.  They were already murmuring to each other, trying to make sense of the encounter.

“What was he?  How could a mage be that powerful and fight the way he did?”

“I’ve never heard of a fire-mage, have you?”

“And that last, bright spell…it knocked the Duke clear across the field.”

“Alright, that’s enough!”  Della barked, the sharp order drew the soldiers to snap to attention.  “You are soldiers of Lucent, not your gossiping old aunts at market!”

Theo hid his amusement at the glower the sergeant was giving her troop, giving them all a quick once over before nodding.

“The day is gone, and you’ve all done well.  We will head back to camp and make plans for the morrow.”

“Yes, my Lord!”

“When we get back, set up a tightened patrol but spread the word that no one is to engage with that boy,” Theo murmured to the sergeant, the woman nodding sharply in agreement.  “I barely was able to keep him at bay, and I will not lose any of you to recklessness.  Understood?”

“Yes, my Lord.  I will see to it.”

Theo took one last look at the direction the youth must have fled.  A swordsman who could cast magic wasn’t an odd occurrence, but with how young the boy was along with both his skill of the sword as well as the sheer strength of his magic…There weren’t many that would fit the mystery.  Then there was the type of magic, of fire and light…not only of using light to heal the first wound Theo had given him, but to the extent that he had done so…

He needed to get word to Mooncradle.  If his suspicions were correct, Solstice Warriors had fallen, and they now had a traumatized, powerful Warrior wreaking havoc here.

Hopefully, aid could be sent before more tragedy befell them all…

*

He was here.  The one with the sword.

      //The red robed Acolyte was standing over a collapsed form; blood was dripping from his sword, pooling under the still body and staining the vibrant green grass.  Valere wasn’t moving.  He could hear Garl scream, his own voice echoing alongside it.//

Zale sobbed as he ran, clutching at his side as he stumbled over the uneven ground, his sword gripped painfully tight in his other hand.

      //The tall Acolyte was defending himself against Garl’s furious attacks, but it was like he was toying with him.  He could do nothing more than scream and thrash as the Acolyte knocked the cook down, sword driving down.  Garl was choking and clutching at the blade, before he sagged back and was still.//

He was hurt…he needed to hide, needed to heal…

      //The giant Acolyte tightened his arms as he struggled, the air forced out of his lungs and cut off his screams.  He could hear Seraï fighting, her blades clashing with the short one’s; but all he could see were their bodies.  The slimmer Acolyte waved her staff, a shimmering, dark portal flared open at the movement; the giant’s footsteps jarred him in the tight hold as the Acolyte approached the gateway.//

He—he had to—he needed— 

      //It felt like he was being dragged through thick fluid as the giant stepped through, the dark energy draining and clinging as he was being carried away from—from— Seraï’s scream of frustration echoed and warbled through the magic before being cut off.//

—he needed to kill him!

      //The giant laughed at his struggles, shifting and hurling him against the wall.  He cried out as his head cracked against the stone, the loud ticking echo of enormous gears above thundering in his ringing ears.  He still struggled up, reaching for his sword, and paling when he realized that his weapon was gone.//

Kill him for taking his friends—his family—away!

      //Hands were on him, wrenching his arms back, the giant’s laughter sharp against his ear as the monster forced him to kneel before the swordsman.  The Acolyte’s blade leveled in front of his face, and he snarled as he struggled in the powerful grip.  Another hand fisted in his hair, the staff wielder forcing his head back.//

Zale staggered to a stop, collapsing to his knees with a sob.  His energy was sapped…not enough to heal himself yet…but in the morning…

      //“How pitiful.  Fighting will get you nowhere, boy.  Yield.”//

No.  He would never yield to them.

In the morning, his energy would return…then he was going to hunt the bastard down.

Even if it meant he had to raze everything to the ground to do so.

Notes:

Gonna go with the whole island being called Lucent before it fell.

Whoo, Duke Aventry is odd to write. I’m going with him being an actual noble, born to Lucent and an old line of aristocrats that are technically no longer beholden to any King (there was an old kingdom on Lucent, but it was destroyed by a Dweller before it was killed by Solstice Warriors. Many of the survivors left the island to other places, while the Duke’s ancestors worked to build up the island again. They refused the title of King, though, despite how much their subjects tried to foist a crown onto their heads.). As I’m taking the fact that Duke is a title and not a name…so I gotta name this noble man if I don’t want to just call him Duke or Duke Aventry…

…yes, those are the guards that went with Liam to check on Zale. *sighs at brain*

…I now have Duke Aventry with Ewan McGregor voice stuck in my head bc of the, “Hello there.” Damn it.

Kinda falling into the concept that it is rare for a powerful mage or fighter to be skilled in the other art. It takes a lot of training and study to become a master of the art for either, and essentially means giving up a lot of your life to attempt both. Solstice Warriors are started young to become the weapons they are by the time they graduate, and their isolation in the Academy means they don’t have much choice but to dedicate their time to it all (I’d imagine a full Academy is a little more difficult to enforce this, as the students and teachers would bond and help each other relax and have fun). Also, Duke Aventry and other leaders have a better grasp of what Solstice Warriors are and what they’re capable of.

So, Tall=One, Slim=Two, Short=Three, Giant=Four.

Chapter 9

Two could barely contain her glee.

The Duke and his love were sending requests for aid from their allies…not they would receive any.  Two’s spells caught and held each messenger pigeon before they were able to leave the island, then a quick spell to confuse the birds’ direction and then lure them to her.  Any messages that did not immediately threaten her mission were released, others had their messages replaced to cause further confusion and delay aid.  And the most dangerous ones she kept, using the birds for food while she read through the missives to the Solstice Warriors.

She smiled at how the Duke requested aid, to help him subdue this broken Warrior and find his fallen comrades.  He truly didn’t wish to kill the boy, and his pity would be his and this islands downfall.

The boy raged and burned without provocation now, razing the landscape to nothing but ash in the attempt at drawing the Duke in.  Two could feel pride swell for how the fallen Warrior truly became a force of destruction…the battles between the two ravaged the few untouched areas of land more than the boy had managed before.

Perhaps if he actually managed to kill the Duke, she could twist him even more?  Torture and training could make him into a formidable weapon in their arsenal, obedient to only them and their Master.  They could even lengthen the boy’s lifespan if he submitted to them, with the aid of the Vampire Rose.  

A powerful Solstice Warrior on a leash, a mad dog for them to use at will against the enemies of the Fleshmancer.  Two felt giddy at the thought.

She’d always wanted a pet, and she was sure their Master would be pleased at having such a powerful Solstice Warrior at his beck and call.

*

The boy was too strong, and Theo had no choice but to pull back to a relatively safe distance away from the forest the Warrior had “claimed.”  Their battles had grown with every encounter, and the destruction of the surrounding areas were getting worse.  It wouldn’t be long before the disturbed youth turned from the forest towards either the town or Manor…

“This…is not tenable anymore.  How can we stop him?”

He sank into his chair with a groan, head falling heavily into his hands.  Theo glared at the reports and missives from the town scattered across the table, wishing that one of them would have some kind of solution hidden in the letters and maps.  This wouldn’t be the first time this island had been brought low, with the loss of the Kingdom of Lucent and an entire section of the island by a Dweller centuries prior.  But they had been saved at the Eclipse, by Solstice Warriors who’d rushed to their aid…and now…

Now it seemed that their destruction was to be brought about by another Solstice Warrior.  Theo couldn’t help the bleak chuckle escaping him; it wasn’t completely hopeless, Ewilda and the people of Lucent were prepared to evacuate, and quickly, should the need arise.  But with how the Warrior seemed to delight in razing the forest to ash, and if he wasn’t stopped and forced them to flee, it could be years before the island would be habitable again.

A low cough interrupted his bleak introspection, and Theo’s head jerked up to blink tiredly at the tall soldier as she pushed the tent flap open.  Sergeant Della stood just inside the door, bowing lightly with an apologetic look on her face.

“My Lord, there is a Solstice Warrior here.”

 A hooded figure hovered behind Della, and there was a note of wonder in the Sergeant’s voice; Della had likely only heard of the legends and stories of Solstice Warriors…and the current situation with the boy, a Warrior who was attacking their home, was not particularly inspiring to hope as those myths portrayed them to be.

“Enter.”

The two strode into the tent, and Theo carefully took stock of the aid that had been sent to them.  The Warrior smiled at him, pushing her hood back enough that Theo could see a hint of greying, strawberry blonde hair braided carefully across her forehead, and her grey eyes had a multitude of laugh lines lining them.  She was older than he’d hoped for, leaning heavily against Della and the strange, hooked staff she held.  

“Greetings, Duke Aventry.”  Her voice was oddly lilting, as if the woman had suffered an injury and not completely healed.   “I wish this was under better circumstances…”

 “I wish the same.  But we’re grateful for any aid, Lady…?”

“Gabrielle, or simply Elle.  And no need for the Lady, my Lord.  We Warriors don’t really hold to titles except what the Solstices gave us.”

“Of course, Elle.”  Theo stepped around his makeshift desk, pulling the chair he had around with him to offer to the elderly Warrior.  Elle gave him a grateful smile as she settled down, leaning her staff carefully across her lap.

“Now, Duke Aventry, your missives spoke of a…Fallen Warrior?”

“I hate to use that term, but…essentially, yes.”  Theo sighed as he leaned against the table, shaking his head at the whole situation.  “It is clear that this boy has suffered a major loss.  In our encounters, he mistakes me for someone else.  In the earlier battles, he accused me of killing his companions, and this confusion is likely fueling his rage.”

“His companions?”

“Other Warriors, I surmise, but I cannot get a clear answer out of him while we fight.  Do you not have any missing amongst your ranks?”

“Hmm….”  Elle seemed disturbed, worry creasing her brow.  “There was a group that we had sent to some of the smaller islands to the southeast of Lucent, to investigate some old rumors regarding the movements of Fleshmancer Cultists.  It was supposed to be an easy mission, with two experienced Warriors guiding a recent graduate of the Academy…and we knew that with the usual storms of the area for the time of year, it was possible we wouldn’t hear back from them until now, but this—we never expected it to degenerate to this—”

“How could you have?  You never wish to hear of a mission going this poorly.”  Theo laid a comforting hand on the elderly Warrior’s shoulder.  “But Cultists?  This close to Lucent?”

“Forgive me, Duke Aventry, but Solstice Warriors do not require permission from the local powers to move about the islands or carry out their missions.  We try to do so when we can, but if Garl or Valere had discovered something bigger than their original mission, it was possible they hadn’t the time to spare to do just that…and it is clear we should revise that habit if two of our best are now dead, and their mentee is now—”

“—A young, traumatized, and powerful Warrior on the loose here.”

“…it seems so.”

Theo sighed and rubbed at his temple.  This information was helpful in piecing together what might have happened to drive the boy into this trauma induced rage, but it wasn’t helping him bring a stop to it.

“How many Warriors have you brought to help us stop this boy?  He is the most powerful Warrior that I’ve ever seen…I could barely keep him at bay, and our battles were far more destructive than I’d like.”

“I’m afraid…you only have me.”

Both Theo and Della gaped at the Warrior, and she shifted uncomfortably under their incredulous stares.

“You…can’t be serious!”  Della blurted, clearly losing the awe she’d had at the Warrior’s presence.  “You are in no way able to fight off that boy!”

“Sergeant Della!”

“Pardon my rudeness, my Lord, but this is of no help to us!  How could the Solstice Warriors not send someone who could actually fight?!”

A light cough made Theo pause before he could reprimand Della, and he turned with a raised brow at Elle.

“You must forgive us, as I am the only one available to even come.”

“What?”  Theo couldn’t comprehend why, there were so many Warriors that traveled the world... “How could you be the only one available?  There is not—surely not a Dweller?  There is no Eclipse—”

“No, no Dweller, thank the Eagle.  No, we have been having trouble with both Cultists and a rogue Wizard to the north of Brisk, and it requires all our attention at the moment.  There are others, but are on extended missions and unreachable at this time…I was the only one who could be sent.”

“…then we have no other choice but to evacuate.”

“So quick to give up, Duke Aventry?  Why should you flee?”

It almost sounded mocking, and Theo felt his simmering frustration boil into anger at her tone.  

“There is no way to stop this boy!  Every encounter of ours has only made the damage worse, and leaving him be is to let him raze this entire island to ash!  What would you have me do?!”  His outburst was met with a raised brow and an unimpressed glower on Elle’s face.  The woman pulled a pouch from her belt, and held it out towards him.

“What’s this?”  Theo took the bag, nearly snatching it from the Warrior in his irritation.  The cloth bag sat heavy in his hand, and held a strange, shimmering stone.  Pulling it from the bag revealed the oblong stone to be nearly as big as his fist; Theo would have likened it to obsidian, if not for how the dark black within seemed to shift and shimmer as he turned it in his hands.  As if someone had liquified an overcast night sky and sealed it within the stone.

“A way to block Solstice magic.”

Theo nearly dropped the shard, eyes wide as Della hissed in shock.  Elle seemed unperturbed over their reactions, eyes dropping to fix on her staff as she gently rolled it back and forth on her lap.  She seemed to be lost in thought as the crook of her staff slowly spun, the golden orb it held seemed to glitter in the dim light of the lamps.

“This ancient shard was made by the Ovates themselves...it will shroud your island in complete darkness for one day, blocking all light from the sun and moon.  Simply smash the shard with conviction, and its magic will awaken.”

“Lady—Elle—this is a dangerous item!”

“Yes, but the situation you are in is grim, and there seem to be only two choices left for you.  Surely you wish to protect your people?”

“Of course!  And with this, the boy’s powers would...” Theo mused, knowing it would be a considerable advantage in dealing with the boy.  “But…how will this effect you?”

“Me?” Elle murmured, blinking at the question before lifting her head with a sad smile,  “It will only effect me for a day…that is how long the spell should last.”

“That…is not exactly what I meant,” Theo frowned in thought, knowing there weren’t many ways a final battle could go against the boy…against Zale.  Even losing his magic, he was still a highly skilled swordsman, and it was highly possible that Zale could be killed as Theo tried to subdue him.

“I know what you meant.  You have a kind heart, Duke Aventry, but Zale is a danger to himself and others.  If he can be caught, that would be ideal…but if he truly is as crazed as you say…it may be a mercy to…well……you do what you must, my Lord.  If it should come to a more lethal end, we will honor Zale and his mentors for their sacrifices,” Elle’s voice trailed, and she shook her head, “This is something that all Solstice Warriors have to come to terms with…we are weapons, Duke Aventry, and sometimes those weapons break.  We mourn, then move on…we have no other choice.”

It was such a bleak outlook on their lives, and Theo felt his pity surge for all of them, especially that of the Solstice Warriors, stuck in this war that had held their world in it’s clutches for centuries.  But, she also had a point…it might truly be a mercy for the boy…

The elderly Warrior nodded and stood, waving off Della’s attempt to help her.  She took Theo’s offered hand in a firm clasp, smiling sadly up at him.

“…Thank you, Elle.  I am ever grateful for this.”

“You’re welcome, Duke Aventry.”

“Sergeant Della, assign someone to escort Elle back,” Theo ordered; the officer gave him a quick salute and bow, and moved to hold the tent flap open for the elderly Warrior.  “Elle, I know Ewilda will have proper accommodations ready for you on your return, either within the town or at the Manor.  Please wait for word of what the final outcome will be.”

“Thank you, my Lord.  I truly hope that whatever happens, that this will bring what you and your people deserve for your future…”

*

Despite how irritating it was to waste so much energy on holding a glamour up to keep the sheep from realizing that she wasn’t a Solstice Warrior, Two had to admit that her disguise afforded her quite a lot of movement within Lucent.  She and her escort had arrived at the town late that night, the soldier guiding her to the town’s inn and had left to report to their superior here.  Then on the morning, Two found herself immediately taken to her target, the Lady of Lucent herself.

The Lady had frowned at Two’s explanation of the magical shard she’d given the Duke, and had expressed hope that he would be successful in bringing the Warrior in without having to use it.  Two had gently patted the Lady’s hand and expressed a hope that she would be right. 

After their meeting, Ewilda had been very accommodating when she had requested a tour of their preparations, Two feigning concerns and offering advice as she was led along.  Already she had a better gauge of how fast these sheep could mobilize.  That had taken most of the day, and with how many evacuees that had crowded the town from the surrounding areas, the foolish woman had insisted that Two go with her back to the Manor for her stay.

“I hope these rooms will be to your liking, Lady Elle,” Ewilda said as she gently steered Two through a wing of the Manor.  “I’m afraid there are no servants to spare to aid you, as most have been sent to help in the town.”

Two inwardly sneered at the Lady as they finally reached whatever room she’d been assigned, already tired of having to feign being a weakened old Warrior.  She almost wished she’d taken the brazen sheep’s visage when she made the glamour; he, at least, didn’t appear as frail as the woman had.  Two resisted the urge to snarl and twirl her staff in her hand, knowing that this persona actually had afforded her a much easier time in gaining the trust of the Duke’s Lady.

“You don’t have to worry about that, my Lady.  We Solstice Warriors are used to being self sufficient.”

Ewilda smiled sweetly up at Two, and pushed open the double set of doors.  The room was decently large, and did not feel overly extravagant despite the large and plush furniture.  A set of glass doors that opened out onto a balcony, facing the east; despite how most of this wing of the manor was blocking the late day sun, there was still a decent amount of light pouring in through the glass.  With how open to the courtyard this room was, it would be quite easy to see when the Duke fell into her trap.  And there, set against the wall beside the fireplace, was exactly what Two was hoping she’d have access to in this Manor: a large mirror.

It was tall and wide, its golden frame carefully propped against the wall, and its size meant that a person could easily see their whole body reflected in the silvered glass.  It probably was intended for whatever useless, vapid noblewomen would visit the island, for them to preen and pose in front of before flouncing off for their useless parties…But for Two, it would be a useful way to spy on what was happening with her mad Warrior and the Duke.

“However, my Lady, I must beg off from any kind of formal dinner,” Two murmured as she set her staff against the side table by the large bed.  “It has been a very long day, and I merely wish to clean up and rest.”

“Of course, Lady Elle.  I shall have something sent to you later for your meal.  I hope you will have a good rest.”

“Thank you, Lady Ewilda…”

Finally, the woman left the rooms with a quiet click of the door, and Two couldn’t keep the sneer from her face anymore.  She immediately moved to the mirror, scowling at the horrid visage of the sheep as she stood before it.

“How disgusting…” she muttered, but didn’t drop the glamour.  With how annoyingly helpful her target had been throughout the day, it wouldn’t do to be discovered should the woman decide to return.

“Well…no matter…”

Two ran a finger down the cold surface of the mirror, carefully modifying her portal spell to penetrate the surface.  She shifted it to lock onto the boy’s location, and smiled to see him huddled against a stone wall.  He clutched his stolen sword to himself, and carefully eased himself along the dark masonry.

“Where are you, my mad dog?”

She pulled the spell back, and couldn’t help the delight at the sight of the Duke and his entourage carefully scouting the old kingdom’s graveyard.  The Duke fingered the pouch Two had given him, an unwieldy lump on his belt, and he glanced down at it with a frown on his face every so often.

“Poor, pitiful Duke…whatever will you do?” Two sneered at the indecision on the man’s face.

And it looked like her mad dog wasn’t going to give him the chance to think on it long—he darted out from the cover of the wall, knocking two of the guards away with a blast of fire and light.  The Duke barely had time to react, ducking one swipe of the Warrior’s sword, then pulling his sword free to counter the next two blows.

The altered spell didn’t allow for sound to come through, but Two could see the Warrior shout something, and the flicker of sadness on the Aventry’s face could only mean the boy was spouting his mad accusations again.  It only lasted a moment, before determination set on the Lord’s face.

The Duke shifted and darted forward on the offensive, a flurry of blows knocking Two’s mad dog back across the graveyard.  A crumbled gravestone tripped the boy, and he flailed as he fell backwards, barely able to roll with the fall to right himself in a crouch.  The Lord of Lucent allowed the boy to shuffle back to get his bearings, backed off a few more paces as well, his mouth set in a firm, and unhappy, line.

“Oh, finally made a decision, have you?”

Two’s elation grew even further as Duke Aventry loosened the pouch at his belt and pulled the shard free of the cloth.  It glimmered and seemed to suck the light from the area, the broken Warrior watched the Duke warily as he pulled his magic about him.

Aventry wasted no time; he raised the shard high, then dashed it to the stones at his feet.  Darkness billowed free of the shattered fragments, engulfing the area and the view from her portal was immediately obscured.

The windows and door to the balcony faced the east, and rattled as the wind picked up.  Two turned just in time to see the black cloud rise up in the distance.  It surged up in a pillar not unlike smoke, then roiled across the sky at incredible speed.  For a moment, the shriek of the wind and the rattle and shattering of glass about the Manor was all that could be heard—

—then the cloud reached them, and all went black.

The very air felt thick, a dark presence in it that pressed heavily down all around her.  Two smiled as it rejuvenated her, the very essence of the darkness coiling about her like an affectionate pet.  There were faint flashes of light that flared in the distance, and across her mirror, like lightning crackling through a storm.

It felt like forever before the howl of the magical storm faded, and Two could hear terrified shouting and screaming of the sparsely occupied Manor echoing down the hall.  Another segment of forever before the darkness faded enough that she could see.

Two turned to watch the curiously fragmented battle that was raging across the surface of the mirror, the sudden flares of light then the plunge back into darkness making it hard to truly see what was happening.  But with each blinding burst of a spell, the light slowly grew dimmer and dimmer.  The darkness was settling even more, and Two could hear the panicked pounding of footfall echoing up the hall.

Pity.  She’d hoped to watch and see which of the two would be victorious, but it seemed like she needed to play the part of a the old Warrior.  No matter…if the Duke won, he would return to the Manor and his Lady-love, and the plan would continue as normal; if her mad dog won, she’d just have to collect him later…Four could keep an eye on him in the Castle while she finished with things here.

Two flicked the surface of the mirror to dispel the portal, and pulled enough energy about her to flare in a dim, golden glow.  She schooled her expression to one of concern, the borrowed visage of the woman mimicked the worry Two had seen on the sheep’s face for so much of the time she’d observed them in that pitiful cabin, who’d so desperately cared for Two’s mad dog.  Two picked up her staff just as the footfall came to an abrupt halt before her door, and a hand knocked a heavy, nervous pattern on the wood.

“Lady Elle!  Are you alright?!” The Lady of Lucent’s voice was deceptively calm, though Two could practically taste the fear when she moved swiftly to the door and opened it to allow the woman inside.

“Yes!  Yes, Lady Ewilda!  Are you unhurt, yourself?”

“Yes, but that storm!  What in the world is going on?”

“Ah.  It’s likely the Shard I had given the Duke; I had explained it to you…”

Two sighed inwardly as she guided the Lady into the seating area of the room…the final conclusion to this mission couldn’t come sooner.

*

The old graveyard stood only as a testament to the strength of the masonry set there years ago, the fires scorching but not bringing down the mausoleums set there from when the island held a powerful kingdom.

The darkness that erupted from the broken shard had knocked them all down, the guards shouting as they were blown back.  Theo had barely been able to get up in time to see the boy lunging forward, glowing brightly with his magic and becoming the only source of light in the graveyard.

But even that quickly began to dim, the darkness cutting him off from the source of his power, and it was clear the Warrior was burning through his magic too quickly.  Theo’s soldiers had immediately pulled further back, Sergeant Della shouting orders for torches and lanterns to be set and raised.  They’d immediately got to work as Theo lunged to keep the Warrior back, providing himself as a distraction as his men worked.

The battle felt worse, this time.  Theo had no wish to harm this broken Warrior more, but when Zale turned and tried to send his magic in an arc to where Sergeant Della and the soldiers stood, he had no more choices.  The shock on the young man’s face when Theo stopped holding back and went on the offensive left a sour taste in the Duke’s mouth…how he hated that it had come to this…

It didn’t take long…with his magic waning, Zale stood no chance.

The boy slumped against the wall of a tomb, weakly sobbing as he clutched at the deep wounds Theo had inflicted on him.  The healing light that had flared so brightly in Zale’s palms now barely glowed, as dim as foxfire before stuttering out.

Theo waved the soldiers behind him to hold, stepping carefully around the rubble of destroyed headstones to stand before the boy.  Tears were streaking down the young man’s face, and despite the wave of destruction he’d caused…Theo couldn’t help but pity him.

“I—no—go’way—”

Theo knelt, reaching and plucking the sword from the weak grip.  He tossed it aside, and placed his hands above the boy’s bloodied one, gently providing more pressure.  Zale gasped and sobbed as he thrashed, kicking weakly.

“I’m…sorry it had to come to this.”

“I—hate you——hate…you…”

“I could not allow you to continue, Zale.  Lucent cannot fall.”

The boy twitched, eyes going wide.

“L-lu-cent…?” His voice was rough and weak, eyes flicking over Theo then about them, lingering on the graves and tombs.  “C-can’t—b-be—”

“I know you must be confused…and I am sorry.  You’ve already lost so much.”

The boy’s eyes locked onto Theo’s, and he finally seemed to focus on him.  Zale seemed to pale further as recognition flickered across his face.

“D—Duk-e?  D-duke Aven’try—?”

Theo nodded, keeping pressure on the wound even as the boy lifted a hand to grasp at his sleeve.  Theo shook his head sharply at hearing the soldiers panic at the movement and attempt to rush forward.  Della immediately snapped and ordered the guard back, stepping forward to kneel next to him and took over to apply pressure to the Warrior’s wound.

“D-don’t—no—” Zale gasped and thrashed, reaching and clutching at Theo’s coat with both hands.  “Don’t—y’ c-can’t—it—won’t g-go ‘way—Th-the Night Shr’d…n-no s-sun…”

“I had to block your power, it was the only way.”

The Warrior’s struggles were slowing, his panic no longer giving him a burst of energy.  Zale sagged, tears spilling harder as he sobbed.

“I—dd-idn’t mean—mean ’t—bb-urn—I—I’m...’m so-ry—s’my f-fault—’n Lu-c’nt’s g’nna—”

“Lucent will recover, young Warrior…” Della murmured softly, eyes sad as she watched Zale shake his head and slump further.  “You don’t have to worry on that.”

“N-no…no—M’sorry—m’sorry…”

Theo gently pulled one of the Zale’s hands away from his coat, clasping it tightly and cupping the boy’s face.  The Warrior shuddered, tear blurred eyes flicking and trembling, before focusing on something behind Theo.

“—G‘rl?  v-V’aa-l—?”  Zale’s slurred words were barely over a whisper, but for a brief moment both his eyes and voice brightened with wonder.

Theo felt Zale go still, and shifted his hand up to gently close the young Warrior’s eyes.  Della sighed as she lifted her hands from the boy’s wound, shaking her head as Theo carefully shifted him down to the ground.  She straightened Zale’s limbs, then gently arranged his arms to rest over his chest.

“Be at peace, young one…” she murmured, “May Solen’s light guide you to your rest.”

“Bring a stretcher.  He was a Solstice Warrior, and deserves to be treated with dignity after all of this tragedy.”

Theo watched his soldiers obey his orders, taking note of the ones who were grimly frowning as they worked.  Della also watched her men with a frown of her own, pulling her belt sash free and handing it to Theo.

“Here, my Lord.  Clean your hands.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

“…I will set a few of the less…effected of the men to guard his body.  The ones that can’t control their emotions over this boy, I’ll send to take word back to Lady Ewilda that the situation has been…dealt with.”

 “You’re a good soldier, Sergeant Della.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

Theo took one more look about the graveyard, as the soldiers lifted Zale’s still body.  The plants and trees had been ravaged as badly as the surrounding forest.  In the distance, the fires could still be seen smoldering; he would have to call for mages in to help in putting out the flames…

“There is still much to do,” Theo stated, his voice pitched to carry.  “We shall return to the camp and make preparations to return to the town.  I will need all of your strength and hard work so we can start the recovery process and aid those displaced.”

Notes:

Borrowing an idea from Onikotsu, from her fic "The Letter of His Will" (go read it, it's so good)! Using a glamour is how Two is able to not arouse suspicion from the Duke and Ewilda...and I hate her for stealing Gabrielle's face and voice, I really do. (She's banking on the fact that Gabrielle and Liam were practically hermits in the woods, and most of the guard and the "royalty" wouldn't have interacted with them). Two knows just how use just enough truth to make her lies more effective…why make up things, when she can just steal identities and twist others to fit her needs? Listening to Zale’s deteriorating mental ramblings on his friends, as well as her observing Liam and Gabrielle, gave her enough to make up plausible stories.

I think, in some ways, Two pities Solstice Warriors. She sees them as mirrored versions of the Acolytes; but in her eyes, she and her comrades chose their fates, given that chance by their Master, while the Solstice Warriors were born and raised to be sacrifices by Resh’an.

How I think Dwellers are made: with a "Seed of Evil" that Aephorul created, to absorb a tortured being as a sacrifice, taking all of the despair and pain of the body and soul to make the Seed take root and grow. This can be why the Dwellers look the way they do; Woe resembles Ewilda, Torment resembles a Divine Spirit (I assumed on my first playthrough that it was the Father of the baby gorillas, instead of being a grotesque copy of the Gorilla Matriarch). Strife and Dread could also be twisted doppelgängers of Divine Spirits.

…crap. Now I want to write a fic that explores Zale not dying and ending up as a weapon…*thunks head on desk*

Chapter 10

The boy looked peaceful, lying atop the stacked bundles of wood; a larger cage of carefully twined branches were arched over him, the limbs of wild apple and cherry trees heavily laden with flowers and buds, and nearly hiding his body from view.  

Zale had been changed into robes made of an undyed and unbleached silk, the faint golden hue gave more color back to the washed out tone to his skin.  Lady Ewilda and her maids had quickly made up the traditional Mooncradle garment, determined that the Solstice Warrior would be sent off properly.

“We are gathered here to not just mourn the passing of Zale, a Solar Solstice Warrior, but of his mentors, Garl and Valere.  Three just protectors of the world, taken from us all far too soon.”

The gathered were few, only a handful of soldiers, and both leaders of Lucent.  They stood in a semi-circle about the pyre, and their heads bowed as Two continued in her eulogy.

“Garl was a steadfast Lunar Warrior, willing to stand his ground or throw himself into the fray to defend his charges, even when the battles looked hopeless.  His courage was a trait that many a Solstice Warrior looked up to.  May he be remembered for his calm determination and courage.”

“May he be remembered,” the Duke and his entourage murmured.

He was a fool of a sheep, throwing his life away.  Two could easily recall the shock on his face as he fell, at the despair in her mad dog’s face when he finally realized what was happening.

“Valere was a bright Solar Warrior, so eager to help and heal.  Her skills had been strongest in her magic, where a faint touch could heal the worst of injuries with her light.  May she be remembered for her gentle nature, selfless and kind.”

“May she be remembered.”

She was no better than her husband.  While Two would never have let her escape with the boy, that sheep would have been better off trying to flee and make the most of the sacrifice given.  Stupid woman, but so useful in twisting the memories of the fallen Warrior even more with her stolen visage.

“And Zale…” Two paused, allowing her voice to dwindle off as if in pain.  “Zale was a daring young man, as fierce as the fires he wielded, and protective of not only his companions, but to any of those who needed them.  It is clear he fought valiantly against the Cultists who had captured him, evident in the scars he bore during his last days.  Even though he fell to madness from their lies and torture, may he be remembered not for the actions he took while in pain and fear, but for the strength and resilience he had while in captivity.”

“…may he be remembered.”

Truly, Two had a certain respect for her fallen Warrior.  Whatever had driven the boy to the brink must have been excruciatingly painful, and the fact that he truly had been clawing his way back to sanity was an impressive feat.  If he hadn’t died, she would have loved to test how much she could build him back up, only to tear it out from under him.

What a pity…he would have made such an interesting experiment.

The Duke stepped forward, torch in hand.  He’d asked for permission to send the boy off, guilt in his every line when he’d made the request of her.  Two readily agreed to it; fire spells were not her strong suit, and didn’t trust that she could fool the Duke with them as he had worked so closely with Warriors before.  The man might not have been a mage, but she and One had discovered during a different mission that he was eerily sensitive to how the Solstice magic felt against other types.

“May Solen’s light guide you to your rest, young Warrior,” Duke Aventry prayed, and it took much of Two’s willpower to not scoff outwardly at the sentiment.  The Guardian Gods were a farce to keep the sheep in line; no Solstice Warrior had ever come close to Ascending, so these prayers to mere concepts of deities were a waste of breath and time.

“May Solen’s light guide you to your rest.”

The fire quickly caught on the oil soaked bundles set as tinder at the base of the pyre, flames crackling and popping as it ate at the fuel.  Soon, the boy was hidden within the smoke and fire, and Two bowed her head to him.  The flames were quite pretty, even if they couldn’t compare to the breathtaking infernos her mad dog called up.

“Thank you, my mad dog,” Two whispered, truly feeling thankful to the boy; even though he had not managed to kill the Duke, Zale had given her a strong foothold here on Lucent and she would use it well.  “Your contribution will further our goals for our Master.  What a pity you did not live to see it come to fruition.”

*

Derik shifted nervously from foot to foot as he waited in line, a hand adjusting the light scarf he’d taken to wearing since the sky had been blotted out.  Without the warmth of the new spring sun, the temperatures had dropped, making it feel as if the oncoming seasons had been pushed back.  He leaned heavily on his cane, eyeing the tent before him, hoping that the guard he’d been directed to would be able to help.

The fires had eaten everything in their path, and he’d not seen or heard anything of his former student or her husband.  It wasn’t like them.  It wasn’t like Gabrielle to not be in the thick of everything when she could possibly help, especially if anyone was injured.  Even Liam, with his aversion to being in crowds, would have been trying to aid in any way he could.

So Derik was here, at the center where aid was being dispersed by the guard, trying to track them down.  That someone would be able to tell him that Liam and Gabrielle were safe, or that someone could be sent to search for them.

At last, the guard motioned Derik forward, and gave the old healer a double take as he shuffled forward.

“Here, Elder, let me help you—”  The young guard reached his hand out to take Derik’s arm, and jerked when he was swatted away by the healer’s cane.

“I’m fine!  Just hold the flap wide enough for me, young man!”

Derik gave the soldier a half-hearted glare, his worry tempering his irritability at the suggestion that he was incapable in his age to walk any sort of distance.  They’d already forced him to wait for hours, and now they wanted to treat him like he was a cripple?  Bah!

The lights from the lanterns were bright inside the tent, a welcome change from the gloom outside.  Derik heard of why and how darkness covered the land, of the hard decision that Duke Aventry made to cast the spell to weaken his enemy—an enemy that should have been their ally.  A Solstice Warrior that had turned against them, turned to evil…and could possibly be the reason why Derik’s friends and family were missing.

He hoped that the boy Gabrielle had found wasn’t the reason…that it was just a coincidence…

An officer stood at the table set towards the front of the tent, papers and maps carefully spread across the surface.  Men and women shuffled about behind it, working on various tasks and building crates of needed supplies.  Derik frowned as he glanced at one of the completed bundles set to the side of the table, noting that there didn’t look to be much by way of medicine or bandages in them.  He would have to gather up any surplus from the clinic, there was much more that could be more effectively distributed here than waiting for people to come to him.

“Hello, Elder, I am Sergeant Della.  How can we help you?”

The officer before him smiled tiredly, leaning forward against the table.  Behind her was a heavily cloaked figure, with their back to the entrance, who tapped an odd, hooked staff with a glowing orb against their leg.  Their voice was low, with a strange, breathy lilt, talking quietly with one of the other soldiers.

“My name is Derik, and I’m looking for missing friends—family, actually—their names are Gabrielle and Liam,” Derik stated, eyes locked with the officer’s dark brown.  “I haven’t seen them since before the start of all of this, before winter hit, and I have to find them.”

“Ah, that’s…we’ll see what we can do, Elder, but with all the aid that needs to be handed out, it might take time…?”

“I know that!” Derik snapped, lifting his cane and waving at the soldier in frustration.  “I know you are spread thin!  But it isn’t like them to not be here, when so many hands are needed!  I just need you to keep an eye out for me!  They have—they have to be here—”

“Ah, calm down, Elder!”  Della reached across the table to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, eyeing how Derik waved his cane halfheartedly at her.  “I need you to take a breath and gather your thoughts.”

“Don’t tell me to be calm!  I am calm!  I need you to tell me what you are going to do to help me!”

Della jerked back as Derik swung his cane with more force than he intended, striking the table with a loud bang.  The rest of the guard jumped and whirled to see the cause of the noise, while Della stumbled back into the cloaked figure behind her.  The figure also turned to the commotion, and reached to steady the officer.  They leaned in to murmur to the sergeant, too low for Derik to hear.

“Ah, thank you, Lady Elle.”

The name made Derik’s next breath freeze in his chest, and when the cloaked figure turned fully to face him, he gaped at the achingly familiar, heart-shaped face that quizzically peered out from under the muted red hood.

“Gabrielle?” he croaked, stumbling forward against the table.  “Wh-what—what are you doing here?  I’ve looked everywhere for you and Liam!”

“Do you know each other?”  Della glanced back and forth, eyes wide as the old healer quickly limped around the makeshift desk.  Gabrielle jerked back when he reached her, grey eyes narrowing as he grasped at her arms.

“Elle—Ellie?”

“I do not know this man.”  The lilting voice was hard, completely wrong, and the look of disgust that flickered on Gabrielle’s face as she pulled away felt like ice in his gut.  This wasn’t Gabrielle—but now that he was closer, she looked exactly like his student, from her silvered, strawberry blonde hair down to the freckles across her nose, and the tiny, dark mole just below her right eyebrow—an imposter!  He didn’t know how it had been managed, but this woman stole Gabrielle’s face!

“Who are you?!  Why do you look like Ellie?!” Derik roared, fear fueling his rage.  “Where is she?!  Where is Liam?!  What have you done with them?!”

Della lunged and caught Derik’s cane as he swung it at the imposter, grabbing at his other flailing arm and forcing him back a step.

“Elder!  Stop!  This is Gabrielle, a Solstice Warrior!  She helped us stop the rampage of that crazed Warrior!”

“Solstice—Did you say Solstice Warrior?!”  Derik roared, struggling in the taller woman’s grip, glaring at the soldiers that were rushing forward to help.  “No!  No!  How can she be?!  She looks exactly like my student!  My Ellie!  She stole her face!  Her name!”

“All of you, stand down!”  A firm bellow cut through the tent, bringing everything to a standstill.  “What is going on here?!”

Derik twisted in the officer’s grip, eyes widening at the imposing figure of Duke Aventry standing in the wide open entry.  The old healer shook himself, jerking free of Della and stumbling towards his lord.

“My Lord!  My Lord, this—this witch stole my student’s face!  My—My Gabrielle!  She—She’s not—”

A laugh cut through his babbling, a high cackle from the imposter.  There was a crackling in the air, and a rumble through the dirt floor of the tent, then everything seemed to lurch underneath them.  Derik staggered as the ground beneath him rippled, before a hand grabbed hold of his arm and jerked him forward and to the side.  A spike of energy speared up where Derik had nearly collapsed, and the Duke’s arms held him steady.

“What are the odds?”

“Elle—?”  Duke Aventry demanded, tense as he straightened up.

Derik twitched at the name, turning to stare at the chortling witch.  Everything had been shoved away from her, furniture and supplies scattered and broken.  Many of the soldiers were splayed out on the ground; some unmoving, like puppets with their strings cut, others groaning and clutching at wounds.  Della clutched at her side, blood seeping through her fingers as she scooted back to put more distance between her and the witch.

“What are the odds of someone so close to that sheep would be here?”  The witch’s chuckles slowed, and twisted that sweet face into a cruel sneer.  “I’ve practically paraded myself through the town, and not one seemed to recognize the hermit…”

“How dare you!”  Derik roared, struggling in his Lord’s grip, trying to lunge at the witch.  “What have you done to Ellie?!  To Liam?!”

“What, indeed?”  The imposter murmured with a smile, bowing low and swinging her odd staff out to the side as it glowed brightly with energy.  “Sheep only serve one purpose, after all, and they made such good sacrifices to bring my mad dog in to heel—”

“No...”  Derik gasped, clutching at the Duke’s arm.  “No—!  You’re lying!”

“I have no reason to lie.”  When the imposter straightened, Gabrielle’s visage seemed to melt off the witch’s face, a sharp, white mask underneath—with three glaring, golden eyes sweeping over them all.

“You—You’re a Fleshmancer Cultist!”

The creature laughed at Della’s exclamation, bowing again as Duke Aventry pushed Derik to the side, drawing his sword and leveling it at the witch with a grim frown.  She waved her staff again, sending another flare of energy up through the ground.  Derik dropped with a cry, clutching his leg as the magic lanced through it.  He could hear the cries of the remaining soldiers as they were also impaled, Sergeant Della’s shriek of agony ringing in his ears; then came panicked shouts and cries of pain from outside the tent, the witch’s magic this time extending to attack the unknowing soldiers and citizens beyond the canvas walls.

“Damn you!”

Energy sparked and flared as Duke Aventry threw himself towards the Cultist, the creature’s magic snapping up to defend her.  Her very posture was loose, seemingly uninterested as the Lord of Lucent hammered at the shield, golden eyes staring the enraged Duke down.

“What’s the matter, my Lord?  Are you not grateful for the gift I gave you?”

“You—You used me—to—to curse this land!” Duke Aventry snarled as he put all of his strength into his blows.  “That boy—Zale—you’re the reason he went mad, aren’t you?!”

“And what of it?  You were so desperate for a solution to my mad dog that you never bothered to look into the supposed miracle I waved in front of you!”

Slowly, faint cracks spiderwebbed out on the glowing energy, and Derik stared at the fury of the Duke.  The creature seemed taken aback herself as the cracks grew in number and size.  Her staff twirled and a rippling darkness cut through the air and fanned open behind her just as the energy shattered.

“You coward!  Face me!”

“You want a fight, Duke Aventry?  Then come to Clockwork Castle!  I’ll be waiting there!”

The creature leapt backwards into the dark void as Duke Aventry charged through the crumbling shield, the remnants of which caused him to stumble and slow.  Her cackle echoed around them for a moment, then was cut off as the dark energy snapped closed.  There was a sharp ping as the Duke’s sword caught in the closing portal, shearing off the end and leaving him with only half a blade.

“Damn!”

Derik’s hands trembled as he pressed down on the wound in his leg, eyes wide as the Duke flung his broken sword to the ground.  He turned, eyes haunted and mouth pulled into a grim line as he took in the ravaged tent.

“My—my Lord—”  Della’s voice was weak, but she still struggled upright.  Derik hissed as he watched her; the second attack of the witch looked to have missed anything vital on the officer, but if she didn’t get help soon, those injuries would take the woman.

“Sergeant Della—don’t move.”

The Duke was at her side, pressing down the the worst of the woman’s wounds.  Derik grimaced as he pulled his scarf from his neck, wrapping it about his leg and tugging it tight.  He fought back tears as he tried to lever himself up, both from the pain and the sinking feeling that—that—

“Ellie—”

His leg buckled under him, agony shooting up the limb as he sprawled back to the ground.  More shouting surrounded the tent, and the Lady Ewilda rushed in with soldiers and civilians alike a step behind her.  The Lady rushed to the Duke’s side in a heartbeat, her dark, pretty face twisted in worry.  A guard helped Derik to roll over, and pressed firmly down onto the old healer’s wound.

“Theo!  What happened?!”

“We were deceived.”

“What?”

“Elle is a Cultist—” the Duke growled, his head swiveling and pinned Derik in place with his intense stare as the healer sat up.  “Sir—you recognized their disguise—”

“She—she looked like my old apprentice—My Ellie—That—That witch, she stole her face—had to have killed—” Derik choked on his words and broke down into sobs…Gabrielle and Liam—they were—were dead—!

A gentle hand startled him out of his grief, and the soft, dark eyes of Lady Ewilda held his own.  Tears were welling in her eyes, grieving with him, and she pulled him into a firm embrace.  He could see Duke Aventry over her shoulder, eyes just as sad as he watched them.

“I’m so sorry, Elder, that you lost your family…” Lady Ewilda murmured, and Derik clutched at the comforting embrace.  “I will personally send some soldiers to get to the bottom of this, to find your family…you—we all deserve to know what happened and why…”

Her words were meant to be a comfort, but it only made Derik sob harder.  He could barely register the Duke settling next to him, his hand warm on his shoulder.

“I am so very sorry for your loss, Elder.”

Derik could hear the but in his tone, and the old healer struggled to get control over his emotions back.  There was a murmur of words between the Lady and Duke, and when he pulled back from her embrace, Derik could see the Lady’s unhappy frown.

“I know it is hard,” Duke Aventry hesitated, with an apologetic glance at his love. “But anything you could tell us may help; either to help us stop these Cultists, or to give us more insight as to what led us all to this…”

Derik nodded, wiping at his face as he took several shuddering breaths in to steady himself.  A medic had arrived, but the old healer scowled at the woman as she settled next to him.

“I’m—I’ll be fine—I can handle this myself, just leave me with some supplies,” he ground out, slapping her hands away and pointedly ignoring the startled look the Duke and Lady gave him.  “Go!  Go help that officer of yours—she needs the aid more than me!”

The medic blinked and reluctantly moved away at the Duke’s nod, leaving her bag before moving to join her fellows surrounding the sergeant and other soldiers.  Derik grumbled with a hitch in his breath, digging through the bag to pull out the proper materials to stabilize his wound.

“I only—I only know what Liam, Ellie’s husband, told me,” Derik began, not quite meeting his leaders’ gazes as he started to explain what he knew, a sinking feeling that this boy was yet another victim of the Witch who had fled.  “They live—lived in the woods to the east.  Ellie found a wounded boy left in the forest, just outside their clearing…”

*

The screams and wails of the dying sheep echoed in the halls behind them, like music to Two’s ears.  Two stood in the ruins of what looked to be a study, while Four was clearly enjoying himself finishing off the rest of the Manor while they completed the final steps to this mission.

“Y-you mon-monsters—!”

The Lady of Lucent lay in the center of the room, pinned to the floor by Three; the silent Acolyte sat atop the wounded woman, their blades crossed and gently set along the Lady’s collarbones.  Three pressed their knees overtop the Lady’s arms to keep her in place, though it wasn’t truly necessary.  Before Four had left, he’d eagerly broken the Lady’s limbs to ensure that she couldn’t flee, delighting in holding the woman down and slowly bending each bone until they snapped.

Two chuckled at the woman’s tenacity, stepping forward and pressed her staff down atop one of the sluggishly bleeding wounds on the woman’s legs, a gift from Three when the woman had first confronted them to try to buy her people time to escape.  The woman cried out, thrashing for a moment, and a rare, hissing laugh bubbled up from Three.

“Ah, are we truly, Lady of Lucent?”  Two sneered at the woman’s pained glare.  “Monsters are in the eye of the beholder, don’t you think?”

Three tilted their head to one side, lifting one of their blades to gently trace its point along Ewilda’s cheek.  She hissed and turned her face away, eyes closed as if preparing herself for the final blow.

“Yy-ou k-kill an’ torture—for wh-what?  You’ll b-be thrown a-way if you s’cceed ’nd a D-dwell’r e-eats th-this world…Th’ F-fleshm-mancer ww-won’t c-care—g’kk!”

The hilt of Three’s blade cracked against the woman’s face; the small Acolyte snarled and drew their arm back again—then froze as Two gently laid her hand along theirs.

“Not yet, love,” Two breathed, gently caressing the smaller Acolyte’s neck and shoulder when they finally lowered their weapon and pulled the other away from the woman’s neck to give Two room.  “She’ll get what’s due to her.”

Two knelt next to them, reaching down to thread her hand through the mussed and bloody hair.  Ewilda cried out as Two jerked her head around, smirking at the teary glare the woman tried to level at her.

“You know nothing,” Two sneered, tightening her hand on the hair wrapped in her fingers.  “We serve him because he saved us.  Not once has our Master ever lied to us, led us on…not like so many of your people have, not like the Immortal Alchemist had.”

“W-what?”

Two shouldn’t be surprised at the confusion flickering across the woman’s face; it had happened so long ago, after all, and the victors twisted their atrocities around to make them seem better than they were.  Perhaps it was time for a lesson…

“We were betrayed.  Our people were the first to be ‘blessed’ with the knowledge and teachings of the Solstices, lies told to keep us in line and unquestioning.  Our dedication to ensuring our children were born to the Solstices meant that there were less and less of us each generation, lost to fighting the Dwellers.

“We—who you call Cultists—when we learned the truth, when our Master gave us the knowledge to be free—we came forward with what we’d discovered about this War, tried to teach all the races of the reality that doomed us all.  That our blind faith—your blind faith—in this system was destroying our lives!”

Two had lost her entire family to it, as had the rest of the Acolytes.  All lost to the cruel system the Immortal Alchemist had placed onto them; then the civil war that ensued within their people when the truth they’d revealed pit family against family.  It only solidified their resolve to turn their backs to the lies of the Immortal Alchemist and swear fealty to the Fleshmancer.  Two snarled and jerked Ewilda up, slamming her back down onto the floor.  

“The Immortal Alchemist lied to us all, but humans and the other races—and still many of our own people—turned their backs on us and clung to his teachings.  He meant for all of us to be nothing more than zealots to throw at his enemies…mindless sheep for the altar to be slaughtered for the ‘greater good.’”

She slammed the woman’s head down twice more, and Three huffed a satisfied laugh at the cries of pain.  This time, Three laid their hand along Two’s clenched fist, and the touch settled her.  

She sucked a breath in—and out.

“We freed who we could, with the truths gifted to us.  We watched as the world’s history was erased and twisted to suit the Immortal Alchemist and make an even crueler system to all it was forced upon.  The Great Eagle to fly in and spirit away the blessed babes of the Solstices from the flocks—of mindless mobs both proud and eager to be honored by a visitation—all to become perfect soldiers for his army.  Sheep again for the slaughter.”

It wasn’t calm exactly…no, the rage still simmered under Two’s skin and threatened to boil over again.  Ewilda sagged with a groan, weakly turning her head to try to dislodge Two’s hand.

“So tell me, mindless sheep, are you ready to fulfill your purpose to this system you so adore?  I’m sure you are filled with such pride over it.”

Three huffed again in their stilted laughter, leaning forward and eagerly placed their blades along the woman’s neck again.  Two gave one last shove against Ewilda’s head before she released her grip and stood with a smile at how the sheep stiffened in horror.

Two watched with satisfied glee as her mouth opened—to retort—to scream—and whatever sound built in the sheep’s throat cut off with a gurgle as the blades neatly snicked her head from her body.

*

Della stood at attention as best she was able; she leaned heavily on her crutches, but was determined to complete her duty in standing guard over where the Lord and Lady of Lucent lay in their final rest.  It was the least she could do after…everything.

Della hadn’t been with the team that had left with Duke Aventry to chase after the Cultist who dared to use them for their evil acts, still too injured to accompany her Lord.  And she had not been at the Manor when the massacre happened, that night having stayed in town with her family after a long session with the healers.  Della hadn’t even been part of the team that had gone into the Manor to look for survivors; only hearing of the many gruesome scenes strewn through the building, and how horrifically their Lady had been mutilated.

But…she had been there to watch their Lord waste away in grief and self loathing, unable to help and knowing that he would not have the willpower to recover from it.  Della had been unable to help him; not even his closest surviving aides had been able to break through to him.  His fall hadn’t taken long; first a refusal of basic care, then of food, then of everything.

In some ways, she wondered if his passing away had been a mercy.  That their beloved Duke was at peace and would be reunited with his love.

The stone caskets before her were carved beautifully, ornate flowers and vines trailing and winding about the tops and continuing down the sides.  Flowers were heaped about and atop them, perfuming the crypt with their heady scents.  Most were lilies and roses, beautifully delicate, ranging from bright whites and pinks, and interspersed with them were a particular deep red variety of lily with narrow, curling petals.  

Della remembered Lady Ewilda saying that those were her favorite, and had made it a point to bring some prior to standing guard.  She hadn’t been the only one to do so, and the soldier hoped that the Lord and Lady saw them and were comforted by their inclusion.

It was late, and the long lines of mourners were gone; the silence within the mausoleum pressed down on any who entered the ornate building, the very air heavy with loss…Grief still held tight to her, but soon they would turn the lanterns down and file out, and the night guard would take their positions outside of the building.  Her duties would be done until the morrow, and Della would join her soldiers at the inn for a memorial to their lords.

A quiet step jolted Della out of her thoughts.  One last person had walked through the doors to the mausoleum, and she couldn’t help but stare at the oddness that they presented.  They were heavily robed, of a light linen accented by deep purples, reds, and golds; their face hidden in the shadow of their head covering and veil.  She tensed at their slow approach, wondering just who this stranger was.

The figure stopped an arms length away of the piled flowers; they stood for a long moment, staring at the offerings with a lowered head.  Then they bowed deeply at the waist, and held the position for far longer than any of the others who’d come to pay their respects.

“Forgive me, for not being able to help you, Lord and Lady of Lucent.”

Their—his—voice was deep, and filled with such regret and sorrow that Della felt her own grief surge.  But when he straightened, Della drew in a sharp breath at the sight of two sharp lights where eyes should be.  She dropped one of her crutches, hand going to the sword belted at her waist—the unnatural lights narrowed and her hackles rose even further.

“Who—what are you?” she demanded, worried as to why the guards outside had not raised the alarm with the being’s unnatural appearance.  “Not another Cultist—”

The figure—man, demon, thing—lifted a heavily wrapped hand and—

*

The snap echoed in the small chamber, and Resh’an sighed at the frozen, still healing soldier; fear, anger, and grief twisted her face, half braced on one crutch as she drew her sword to challenge him.

Not that Resh’an blamed her for that reaction; with how the Acolytes looked, how he presented himself could easily be mistaken for a Cultist.  The soldiers outside had reacted similarly, and were also frozen in place.  He had a few more tasks to accomplish, and didn’t wish to waste time in placating the understandably upset soldiers of Lucent.

“Forgive me for this transgression, Duke Aventry,” Resh’an said with another sigh, bowing again to the interred Lord of Lucent.  “But I must borrow something of yours to pay my respects to…to a friend.  And ensure that certain things are set for the future.  I will return it soon and leave you to your rest.”

Another snap had the lid to one casket open with a deep, grinding shudder.  A key rose and floated towards him, settling into Resh’an’s palm like an oddly shaped bird.  Another snap as he turned away, and the portal was barely opened before he stepped through it and into a dark tomb.

The sconces on the walls and the torches set beside the entrance behind him flared to life with a wave; the light was dim, but adequate enough for Resh’an to step up to the dais that held only one locked casket…of which Resh’an knew held only the ashes of a young man.

“Forgive me, Zale.”

The key clicked as it turned in the lock inset to the stone, and a snap slid the lid of the casket away.  A simple, golden urn glittered in the light flickering from the sconces, dwarfed in size within the large casket.  The silence pressed down on Resh’an; the longer he stood before it, the heavier and more accusatory it felt.

“In your lifetime, we never met; your timeline had failed before you ever reached the Oracle of Tides, ambushed by those Acolytes in the jungle…and I turned away from it because there had been no hope of salvaging it.”

It was unnecessary to explain himself, it would not change the outcome of what happened…but still…Resh’an snapped his fingers again, and a bundle of armor and a crest settled to either side of the urn.

“Even when I learned that Aephorul had stolen you from your timeline…when I looked deeper and saw that your fate had entwined with this Lucent’s downfall, and that your death became tied to your counterpart’s success…”

There was nothing more than the echo of his own voice in this stone room, and the guilt of it all clenched deep inside him.  To ensure that the Zale he had met would have the best chance at succeeding, this one had to suffer and die.

Resh’an was the only one able to sneak the injured boy from Aephorul’s lair and place him in this Lucent’s past to ensure that it fell.  He wondered if his guilt would be less if he’d known of the necessity of it before he’d allowed the group into his archives; before he’d truly met and interacted with Zale, and become more acquainted with the young man.

“All that I’m able to do for you now is this…”

The vial he pulled from his robes held a dark purple fluid, with bright, golden bands that swirled within as he popped the cork free.  The gold of the urn shimmered as he carefully poured the contents onto it; Resh’an held his hand overtop the coated urn and pulled from nearly forgotten paths of magic within himself…and the fluid caught as he focused, the long unused magic sparked into a bright torch of light.  The flames crackled, colors swirling from the achingly familiar yellows, then shifted into a bright violet, before finally guttering out.  They left behind a pattern etched and melted into the gold that mimicked the intensity of the fire.  Zale would have appreciated that, he thought.

“This will prevent that necromancer from sensing and enslaving you.  I wish that I could extend the same to Aventry…but he is needed for your—Zale’s future.”

Resh’an stepped back and contemplated the the armor this young man never would have the chance to wear.  With a shake of his head, the Alchemist crossed his hands before him and slowly lowered himself in a deep bow; he knelt down and lowered himself further, hands flat on the floor before him, then dropped his forehead to rest on their backs.  It was an old genuflection from his childhood, to show the most respect to those who deserved it.

“Please forgive me…”

*

“Sergeant Della?  Ma’am, are you alright?”

Della blinked, dazed and shaking her head.  One of her men knelt next to her, carefully helping her to sit upright from her sprawled position at the back of the mausoleum.  She couldn’t remember what happened, the last she could recall was shifting in place as she watched the last of the mourners leave, then—

      //—Two bright lights in darkness, narrowed like eyes and staring her down—//

—nothing.

“I’m—fine.”

The soldier shook his head as he helped her up, holding her steady as she got her crutches back into position.

“If you’ll forgive me, ma’am, I think it would be best if you let one of us take over.  You’ve pushed yourself all day, and collapsing like this can’t be a good sign.”

Della drew a sharp breath in—and let it out in a heavy exhale.  The room wobbled and she knew that the disorientation from her fainting spell would be an issue if she tried to retake her post.  Della could almost feel the disappointment that her Lord and Lady would have leveled at her for pushing herself too far.

“Yes, I think that you’re right.”

The guard gave her a small smile and helped her around the piled flowers, carefully pushing the mound to the side so they wouldn’t be crushed underfoot.  Della paused before the two caskets, bowing low for the final time.

“Thank you, my Lord, my Lady…it was an honor to serve you.”

The air outside felt oppressive, the stagnant waters surrounding the graveyard made it more somber than ever before.  As she stood in the entrance, Della shook herself as she watched the guard change shifts.  Then, surrounded by her men, they made their slow return to town.

Despite all their losses, they had to keep moving forward.  That was the only way they could live up to their fallen leaders’ memory, and continue their legacy.  Della could feel the determination welling deep inside.  

Lucent would come out of this even stronger than before.

They had no other choice.

Notes:

It's...it's done!  I am both ecstatic and a little at loose ends.

Not that I don't have other fic that I'm working on, but this is the...second fic that I've actually completed?  I've had a lot writing just kinda dragged on into nothing and then dropped them, but this fic (and this fandom) has carried me through a bunch of stuff.  This fic also felt more personal, in a way.  I started writing the first chapter at the end of Oct. 2023, then got into a car accident the next day.  This fic (and Break Point) have carried me through that stressful time and it feels strange to have one essentially "end."  Almost like I'm letting go of the stress it distracted me from...

*

Notes:

Two is just basing her eulogies on what little she saw of Liam and Gabrielle, as well as the little bits she overheard Zale muttering to himself.  Warped truths make more convincing lies.

Derik is a crotchety old man with a heart of gold.  He will grumble at your stupidity on how you might have injured yourself, all while tenderly patching you up (tho the younger the injured, the more kind he is).

Unfortunately, rumors have already spread that Zale was an Evil Solstice Warrior, most by the soldiers had been hit hardest by the devastation and felt that Duke Aventry was being too kind to his adversary.  Their biased accounts got passed around, changed for the worse in every retelling.  :(

I’m so damn curious about the Acolytes, you have no idea.  Who were they before they became zealots under Aphorul?  Why do they have three eyes?  Are they the last of their kind?  If so, why??  And does Aephorul tell them the truth?  (That depends on which angle you’re looking at the whole situation from).

Resh’an is doing a keunjeol bow.  It’s the deepest bow done in Korea, used for formal occasions or to someone you greatly respect.  (Korean Greetings and Youtube example).

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Scorched Earth