Chapter Text
Ever since Rontu had taught him to stop trying to control the present, his visions had been less and less common. The Tournament of the Sources, was not a stranger to violence, since their first day, where an armed intruder bot had intended to end his life by poison dagger, sneaking into the Ninja's shared sleeping quarters. The the mystery behind the threat was imminent, as was the planned murder that the person behind it had made.
But it wasn't even easy to let his visions go for long. Had he welcomed them, somewhat; but the truth of the matter is they haunted him like any other nightmare, terror, or dream.
Staring at a piece of paper, fielding the twin of Beatrix's face poorly drawn by Arin,
It all came back to him-- like the cursed vision he'd had several months ago, only, filled with sounds-- feelings.
Burning, flickering pain, the sound of breaking glass. The red, blood moon. His breaths become rapid, darting, painful even.
A swing from a sword, leaves him keeling, his breathing rapid and unchanging. The pain so real, so grounding, so deep inside him that it’s impossible to seek out.
He opens his eyes, immediately closes a palm over his chest as is stings sharper than any knife. It’s a pain as real as the present.
"Lloyd?"
There's a grounding moment. Keeled over, slightly in pain, and he finally stills.
"I think today's the day I fight Zeatrix" He looks at the Ninja in front of him. "And I'm going to lose."
The day was longer than any other. Minutes upon minutes, as he watched the clock tick. The pain still a vibrant memory, a pain he fears to feel again. His head roars with a jeering migraine as Zeatrix mocks him. Mocks his fear.
"This is the Legendary Green Ninja who defeated my sister? Pathetic."
But, as much as he could run, his team assured him that his destiny was in his hands. That he would not make it a self-fulfilling prophecy, that he had the power to save himself from the awaiting pain. And he believed it, believed it after running as far as he could, stopping his opponent from taking the cursed object that had haunted him for months.
Because in his visions it was usually things, happenings that would happen, but never a strike on him, never an attack directly involving him and his own soul.
But this was a fate he could not run away from.
“Lloyd, look out!" Sora screams.
Lloyd, his confidence and prowess evaporating in an instant, turns. Turns too fast, turns to reach a swinging sword from above.
Sharp, tearing into the protective wrapping on his chest. The impact itself, shattering the brittle weapon against bone. There's a horrible sound, e as it steals his breath, knocking him back--
The moment slows.
He falls, falls backward. Blinding pain fills every inch of him, as the fate of a blinding impact on the floor awaits him. His eyes instinctually close before he hits the floor, a cracking sound reverberates through his body -- it's a pain much like the one he doesn't want to remember, the one that left him powerless and close to death.
But in these moments, he knows that this is not an ordinary situation. The pain comes fiery, as shards fall onto him, piercing what they can. Crimson starting to stain his gi red.
His team is over in a moment, but the lack of breath is imminent. He coughs harshly, red on the corner of his lips. His breaths come crackly, and pained, shallow. He see's his team, Zane, and Sora standing over him as his eyes flutter close as though determined to.
Sora looks up. "Someone, help!" She moves forward, but Zane holds her by the shoulders, as Temple Guards rush in the distance, holding a stretcher.
"He's in dire need of medical personnel, Sora." Zane says, his voice with a tinge of worry.
"But we can't -- we can't let him --" She is turned away, as the med-bots flood the scene, setting down their stretcher.
"He is in critical condition, in his state- we cannot help him."