#dart impact strength unit

[octagonsolution]

Dart Impact Testers are used to determine the strength and durability of plastic films, sheets, foils, etc. The free-falling dart mechanism on variable test heights is according to IS:2508. The machine is simple in construction and easy to operate.

[orfeoarte]

Tower of Three

Chapter 1: Scorched surroundings

Read on Ao3

"Times are changing, pendahn. I don't like those clouds, the way they stir on the summit," he hesitated, voice dropping in secret shared with the underbrush, lit only by the flickering wick of a lard candle. "I- I'll follow you, but please don't do anything stupid, will you?"

"Fancy yourself the voice of reason? I'm climbin'. If you don't like it, you can well stay behind."

The Wolf, and the Bosmer are forced to unite on an Odyssey under the Dragonborn's command. To break the mark of a world in disarray, they must make an accord: after all, what use is a hero if her thread is split in three?

Riverwood. a tranquil place, with little to write home about. Saathel thought of it as a slight downgrade from her previous life in the depths of a wooded area most certainly ruled over by the postulates of serious Nordsmen and their grave voices. She, in all certainty, lacked the will to perceive them as anything other than the sad attempts they made to rule over sacred wilderness rather than form a covenant with it, as she knew Holy, so she hunted and assembled her shelter and supplies out of those carcasses. Bone, sinew and skin were all she needed to survive the inclemencies of Skyrim’s weather. That unforgiving cold that seeped into one’s very insides— when near claimed by it Saathel liked to remind herself why it was that she was there. Sometimes, that was all that kept her going.

Though close to the town, Saathel liked to keep herself unseen, trading only when necessity brought her to dire bartering, known only by a merchant and his mule. It was a quiet life. Lonely.

She hadn’t been expecting plumes of smoke to rise from Helgen, a morning during her earliest hunts. Like most things unexpected, it beckoned to the part of her mind that didn’t know better. In retrospect, perhaps she should have stayed put, ignored the fires, ignored the obvious silhouette of a dragon, rising from the settlement and slicing clouds with its wings.

A dragon. A tale as impossible could bore its most faithful reader by overstating the incredulousness of its witnesses, but in this situation truth was present: Saathel dropped her bow, mouth ajar. She stood there frozen, the only sign that she lived still in the miniscule droplets of condensed warmth that hung in the cold air as she breathed.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

The thick blanket of cumulonimbus above spoke both of cold weather and a chance of precipitation— and a perfect hideaway for the embodiment of death and fire, whose getaway Saathel could no longer track.

After watching for a good handful of minutes, ears twitching from her over-excited senses trained keenly on Helgen's rising smoke, she resolved that action was the only choice.

The dragon had left, there seemed to be no more unrest in the vaulted sky above the town. Ensuring that it had not made for her portion of wooded sanctuary was a task Saathel performed hastily, feverish, eyes darting to and fro. She discovered soon enough that there was simply no trace of the beast, the ground's twigs and pebbles did not rattle from an impact nearby, and her path was clear from her campsite to the rubble.

With a backpack put together by shaking hands and slung over her shoulders, she set out quickly on her feet.

Accompanying Saathel were her hunting bow and quiver, and a lumber-axe she had taken up for survival in the cold climate when much to her chagrin, no amount of furs could tide over the damp bite of winter. Her weapons would soon prove useful, as she was surprised by a half-singed mare fleeing the town, questing in pain and barrelling towards her.

In a single act the beast had an arrow protruding from its eye socket, Saathel's drawing hand as quick as the projectile itself. She leapt out of the way as the horse keeled over from the sheer impact strength; piercing through eyeball and nerve, in a diagonal straight into the brain, it was dead within seconds. Mercy was written all over the shaft of the arrow as she pulled it out, a boot holding down the mare's heavy skull. Its flank was burned, flesh melted together, the skin connecting its thigh to the trunk a mass of reddish pink wrinkles and blackened splotches. The scent of ruined meat made Saathel retch.

"Y'ffre keep you," she sighed, wiping the arrow down on a piece of leather and slipping it back into the quiver. She knew the spot. Though burned horses weren't her choice of food, no child of the Green could leave such a bounty unused. Sharing with the wolves and foxes was not an issue, the beasts were to her as brothers. Her people knew their song and story as Y’ffre had told it even this far in the North, cold ice Skyrim housed but a different part of Y’ffre’s creation, the one where mountains walked the skyway to meet with the stars, instead of tamarinds, soursops and magnolias.

Her boots slanted in a diagonal across the slippery slope leading towards the valley to ease the mer’s descent down the scene of havoc, the footprint of a passed dragon whose return she still feared enough to cause nervous glances back and forth, and to the sides. Saathel crouched to receive the encroaching scent of fiery substrate, ember and char. It awakened a form of primal unease in her to smell the remains of timber houses and thatched roofs engulfed by flames. Spewing smoke. Those threads of blistering heat weren’t the product of a single uncaring mortal, but spun by an unworldly demiurge against which she was powerless.

Calm, Saathel, she reasoned with herself. You’re thinking in the language of prey. But her own thoughts offered little in the way of solace when she ducked under a tree’s branches and saw the thawing drip, heat from the initial blast melting away at what was supposed to be a mountainous morning frost, impassive and perennial. Her encasing of fur, too, felt heavy instead of comforting.

Yet as she approached poor Helgen the heat became a part of her surroundings, and hardly more than in the Valenwood. Out came her thick gloves, aided by a tug with her teeth and stuffed inside her side-pouch. Huffing and puffing her way through pylons of still-rising smoke, stepping carefully about corpses made into coal, smelling as that horse had, she was dry-heaving by the time she set foot within Helgen proper. The first thing she noticed was the scene of an execution in the heart of the city. Some poor fool had given their neck; presumably more had been queued when the dragon struck, the unlucky bastards.

There was nothing in Helgen left to salvage. Trails ran cold out of the village where some survived, yet two similar paths caught her eye before waning. Inside a building that somehow still stood whole those trails continued. Saathel opened the door. She looked around, coughing into the inside of her softened pelt scarf and lowered it to take a deep breath allowing the scents to flow into the back of her palate. The scents then spoke to her. The place was as a prison once she delved deeper in pursuit of the still-hot trails of possible survivors. Skeletons. Dead Nords and dead Imperials alike flanking the cages holding excarnated corpses of prisoners who never knew of the dragon attack. Sometimes, to be dead is a luxury.

Too far in to turn back and give in to the nagging thoughts of living a life of minding her own business, she descended into a collapsed series of tunnels dug underground.

“Mole-folk, these Northerners. Just how far have they dug into the—”

A faint sound stopped her. It was only for her ears, and came from far down and out. She paused, tilting face and ears to better catch the cry in their shell, as her eyes grew wide and her pupils dilated from adrenaline.

“Help!”

Survivors, at least one of them. Saathel threw herself forward in a frantic scrambling run, abandoning all of her aboveground elegance in favor of speed. Unknown ground as her enemy, eventually she made it to where the tunnels merged with a cave system. Spider corpses littered the floor. Those were Frostbite spiders, hunters endowed with a paralyzing venom that left their pray sluggish or, in worse cases, surrendered to a thick stupor. Frustration grew in her, there was no time for harvesting their venom sacs when someone might be dying further down. Guano covered the roof and walls, nitric acid impregnated her every breath, and Saathel cursed her heroic streak for deciding to play rescue brigade and woodland patrol.

Soon she was at the mouth of a large chamber within the cave. A colossal spider curled its dead limbs in on itself, and nearby were two paralyzed men. Nords, the both of them, she could smell their poisoned blood oozing from puncture wounds. One of them blearily opened his eyes and his hand shook as he stretched his arm out towards her. “Help us, please.”

Saathel knocked both men out with a precise blow to the back of their heads.

[prosegalaxy]

"Aetheria's Awakening: The Battle of Light and Darkness"

In the mystical land of Aetheria, Elara was a young fairy who lived in a secluded glade. Her days were filled with dancing among the flowers and playing with her fairy friends. Little did she know that she held the key to saving their world from an ancient evil. One fateful day, Elara stumbled upon a hidden chamber, where she found a mysterious crystal. As she touched it, a surge of energy coursed through her veins, awakening a power she had never imagined. This newfound power came with a warning - it was the last hope to defeat the dragons and giants that threatened their realm. Elara's journey began when she met Zalaphar, a wise dragon who knew about the ancient prophecy. Together, they embarked on an adventure to gather allies from all corners of Aetheria. Along the way, Elara learned that sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, and friendships were forged with creatures once thought unimaginable. As the final battle approached, Elara's power grew stronger, enabling her to harness the elemental forces of Aetheria. With her newfound abilities, she challenged the ancient evil and its monstrous minions. The dragons, fairies, and giants fought side by side, transforming a world that had once been divided. In the end, Elara's sacrifice brought about the hopeful conclusion that Aetheria so desperately needed. The elements of the land returned to balance, and peace was restored. Elara's tale became a legend, reminding all of Aetheria that even the smallest beings can make a significant impact in the grand scheme of things. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the land of Aetheria. Elara, a young fairy with vibrant emerald wings, flitted among the trees in the enchanted forest, her heart filled with excitement and anticipation. She had just learned about an ancient prophecy that spoke of a chosen one who would awaken to save Aetheria from dragons and an evil that threatened to consume the world. As Elara ventured deeper into the forest, she stumbled upon Zalaphar, a wise old dragon with scales as dark as midnight. Though they were from different worlds, Zalaphar could see the potential in Elara. He shared the prophecy with her, revealing that Elara was the chosen one destined to unite Aetheria's creatures and defeat the ancient evil. Together, they sought out allies from every corner of Aetheria - from the giants who guarded the sky-high mountains to the nimble foxes who darted through the forests. Each new friend brought hope and strength to their cause. As the group grew, so did Elara's power. In time, they confronted the monstrous minions of the ancient evil, battling fierce dragons and treacherous beasts. Each sacrifice made by Elara and her friends only strengthened their resolve. As they fought together, a bond formed between them - one of courage, friendship, and unwavering determination. In the final confrontation, Elara's newfound power allowed her to challenge the ancient evil itself. With the support of her allies and the wisdom of Zalaphar, she vanquished the darkness and restored peace to Aetheria. And so, a new era dawned in the land of mythical creatures - one filled with hope, unity, and the promise of a brighter future. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the land of Aetheria. Elara, a young fairy with vibrant emerald wings, flitted among the trees in the enchanted forest, her heart filled with excitement and anticipation. She had just learned about an ancient prophecy that spoke of a chosen one who would awaken to save Aetheria from dragons and an evil that threatened to consume the world. As Elara ventured deeper into the forest, she stumbled upon Zalaphar, a wise old dragon with scales as dark as midnight. Though they were from different worlds, Zalaphar could see the potential in Elara. He shared the prophecy with her, revealing that Elara was the chosen one destined to unite Aetheria's creatures and defeat the ancient evil. Together, they sought out allies from every corner of Aetheria - from the giants who guarded the sky-high mountains to the nimble foxes who darted through the forests. Each new friend brought hope and strength to their cause. As the group grew, so did Elara's power. In time, they confronted the monstrous minions of the ancient evil, battling fierce dragons and treacherous beasts. Each sacrifice made by Elara and her friends only strengthened their resolve. As they fought together, a bond formed between them - one of courage, friendship, and unwavering determination. In the final confrontation, Elara's newfound power allowed her to challenge the ancient evil itself. With the support of her allies and the wisdom of Zalaphar, she vanquished the darkness and restored peace to Aetheria. And so, a new era dawned in the land of mythical creatures - one filled with hope, unity, and the promise of a brighter future. As Elara, the young fairy with vibrant wings of sapphire and emerald, flew through the enchanted skies of Aetheria, she couldn't help but marvel at the wondrous world around her. The towering mountains, lush forests, and sparkling rivers were unlike anything she had ever seen. Little did she know that her destiny lay hidden within these very lands. One day, while exploring a hidden grove, Elara stumbled upon a mysterious old tome. Its pages contained ancient prophecies and whispered secrets of the realm's mythical creatures. As she flipped through the pages, she found an eerie drawing of a dragon with a wise expression. Intrigued, she decided to follow the lead and seek out this enigmatic creature. Flying high above the clouds, Elara finally spotted Zalaphar, a magnificent dragon with shimmering scales that seemed to change colors at will. She approached him cautiously and asked about the prophecy. To her surprise, Zalaphar welcomed her with open wings and shared his knowledge. He told her of an ancient evil that threatened to consume Aetheria and its inhabitants, including the dragons themselves. "We must gather allies from every corner of Aetheria," Zalaphar urged. "Only by working together can we restore peace." Elara agreed and set off on a journey that would change her life forever. Along the way, she met creatures both fierce and friendly, forging friendships with giants, nymphs, and even an enigmatic shapeshifter named Rennan. As they journeyed deeper into the heart of Aetheria, Elara discovered her own hidden power: the ability to manipulate magic energy. This newfound strength would be crucial in their fight against the ancient evil. With each battle won and sacrifice made, Elara grew stronger and more determined, knowing that she was destined for greatness. In the end, Elara's growing power and unwavering spirit allowed her to challenge the ancient evil head-on, ultimately vanquishing it and restoring peace to Aetheria. Through teamwork, self-discovery, and sacrifice, Elara had transformed from a naive fairy into a heroine whose name would echo throughout the ages. And so, the Chronicles of Aetheria began with The Awakening, forever etching Elara's tale in the annals of history. In the heart of Aetheria, Elara, a young fairy with vibrant emerald wings, lived in the enchanting Fairy Grove. She spent her days studying ancient tomes and observing the world around her. One day, while exploring the depths of the library, she stumbled upon an old, tattered tome hidden beneath dusty volumes. As she opened it, a mysterious energy surged through her fingers, and she felt a sudden connection with the words on the page. The tome spoke of a prophecy that foretold the awakening of an ancient evil in Aetheria, a time when dragons would once again roam the skies, giants would stir the mountains, and fairies like Elara would face extinction. The only hope for salvation lay in the hands of one with the power to unite the mythical creatures of Aetheria against their common enemy. That very night, Elara was visited by Zalaphar, a wise old dragon who had been watching her from afar. With his scales shimmering like embers and his eyes filled with wisdom, Zalaphar revealed himself to be the keeper of the ancient prophecy. He explained that the time had come for Elara to fulfill her destiny and bring harmony back to Aetheria. Together, Elara and Zalaphar embarked on a perilous journey across Aetheria, seeking allies from every corner of the realm. Along their path, they encountered a noble giant named Thorgar, who pledged his might to their cause; a cunning fox-spirit named Fyra, whose speed and wit would prove invaluable; and an enchanting mermaid named Lira, whose song could soothe even the most ferocious of beasts. As they forged friendships with these mythical creatures, Elara discovered that her connection to the ancient tome had awakened a hidden power within her. With each encounter and challenge, she grew stronger and more confident in her abilities. United against the darkness, they fought relentlessly, their numbers swelling as others joined their cause. Finally, they confronted the ancient evil that threatened Aetheria, its monstrous form a twisted blend of dragons, giants, and other horrors beyond imagining. As Elara channeled her newfound power, she found herself face-to-face with the embodiment of the darkness. With the support of her allies and her heart filled with hope, Elara summoned every ounce of her strength and banished the evil from Aetheria forever. In the aftermath, peace was restored to the realm, and the mythical creatures of Aetheria celebrated their newfound unity. Elara, once a simple fairy with dreams of exploration, had become the heroine who brought harmony back to her world. Her journey of self-discovery and sacrifice had transformed her into a beacon of hope for all of Aetheria. As Elara fluttered through the lush Aetherian forest, she stumbled upon an ancient tome hidden beneath the roots of a massive oak tree. Curiosity piqued, she carefully opened the brittle pages and began reading. The prophecy spoke of a fairy with hidden powers, destined to save Aetheria from the dragons and an ancient evil that threatened to consume the land. Elara's eyes widened as she realized the words were not only a story but a foretelling of her own life. She felt an inexplicable connection to the text, as if it was speaking directly to her heart. That very moment, Zalaphar, a wise old dragon, appeared before her. His eyes sparkled with knowledge and wisdom, and he offered his guidance. "Elara, you must understand that this journey will not be easy," Zalaphar warned. "You will need to forge friendships with creatures both magical and mythical, learn the power of sacrifice, and embrace your destiny." Together, Elara and Zalaphar set out to gather allies from all corners of Aetheria. They encountered a band of brave giants who pledged their strength and loyalty, a flock of sprightly pixies who offered their cunning and agility, and a wise owl whose insight proved invaluable. As the group journeyed together, they formed unbreakable bonds, learning to trust and rely on one another in the face of adversity. Elara's newfound friendships not only strengthened her resolve but also helped her unlock her hidden powers. The more she embraced her destiny, the stronger she became. As the group faced their greatest challenges against the dragons and the ancient evil, it was Elara's unwavering determination and newfound abilities that ultimately led to a hopeful conclusion. Peace was restored in Aetheria, and Elara stood tall as a heroine, forever changed by her journey and the friendships she had forged along the way. In the land of Aetheria, where mythical creatures roamed free, there lived a young fairy named Elara. She was different from her peers, having never discovered her true powers like others of her kind. As she ventured through the enchanted forest one day, she stumbled upon an ancient tome hidden within the roots of a massive tree. The tome revealed a prophecy that spoke of a powerful fairy whose existence would tip the balance between good and evil in Aetheria. Elara's heart raced as she realized she was the fairy mentioned in the prophecy. She knew she had to embrace her destiny and help save Aetheria from the dragons and an ancient evil that threatened its very existence. As she continued her journey, Elara met Zalaphar, a wise dragon who shared his knowledge of the prophecy and offered guidance. Together, they set out on a quest to gather allies from all corners of Aetheria, forging friendships with giants, fairies, and other mythical creatures. As they ventured forth, Elara discovered her growing powers and learned that sacrifices must be made for the greater good. With each passing day, she became more confident in her abilities and embraced her role as a heroine. As the group faced numerous challenges, their bonds grew stronger, and they realized that they were not alone in their fight against the darkness. In the climactic battle against the ancient evil and its monstrous minions, Elara's powers reached their zenith. With the support of her friends and allies, she confronted the enemy and vanquished it, restoring peace to Aetheria. The land celebrated its newfound hope, and Elara stood proud as a beacon of light in the darkest hour. Elara, a young fairy with a thirst for knowledge, stumbled upon an ancient tome hidden deep within the forest of Aetheria. The pages revealed a prophecy that spoke of a chosen one who would awaken and restore peace to their world, plagued by dragons and giants. Excited by this discovery, Elara set out on a quest to uncover her destiny. Her journey led her to the outskirts of the Dragon's Lair, where she met Zalaphar, a wise old dragon with knowledge of the ancient prophecy. Surprisingly, they formed an unlikely alliance, as Zalaphar believed in Elara's potential to become the chosen one. Together, they journeyed across Aetheria, gathering allies from all corners of the land: humans, giants, fairies, and even a few dragons who had turned against their kind. As their fellowship grew stronger, so did Elara's powers. She learned to control her abilities and harness them for good. The group encountered various challenges on their way, making them forge friendships and understand the importance of sacrifice. Finally, they reached the heart of the ancient evil, where a climactic battle ensued. Elara's powers reached their zenith, and with the help of her allies, they defeated the monstrous minions and the ancient evil itself. In that moment, peace was restored to Aetheria, and Elara's journey had come full circle. She had discovered herself as a heroine, and the world she once knew would never be the same again. Elara, a young fairy with a thirst for knowledge, discovered an old tome in the depths of Aetheria's vast library. The ancient text spoke of prophecies and mythical creatures, but it was one particular passage that caught her eye. It told of a powerful fairy, hidden among them, who would awaken with unparalleled strength and lead Aetheria to victory against an ancient evil. Little did Elara know that she was the fairy spoken of in the prophecy. As the days passed, Elara continued her studies, curious about the prophecy's implications. One fateful day, while exploring the library's hidden chambers, she encountered a wise and enigmatic dragon named Zalaphar. Their conversation revealed that Zalaphar was aware of the prophecy as well and sought to fulfill it by uniting Aetheria's divided mythical creatures against their common foe. With newfound determination, Elara and Zalaphar set out to gather allies from across the land, forging friendships with giants, fairies, and dragons alike. Throughout their journey, Elara honed her skills, uncovering hidden powers within herself as her confidence grew. As the diverse group of heroes gathered, they formed a strong bond, learning to trust one another and work together. This unity was essential, for the ancient evil had grown stronger with each passing day, its monstrous minions wreaking havoc throughout Aetheria. Finally, the united forces faced their adversaries in an epic battle that would determine the fate of their world. Amidst the chaos and destruction, Elara's powers reached their zenith, allowing her to unleash a devastating blast of energy upon the ancient evil. The force of her attack shattered its dark magic, banishing the evil forever and restoring peace to Aetheria. In the end, Elara had not only discovered her hidden powers but also learned the importance of unity and sacrifice for the greater good. Her journey had transformed her from an inquisitive fairy into a heroine who would be remembered throughout the ages in the Chronicles of Aetheria. In the heart of Aetheria, where mythical creatures roamed and ancient legends whispered through the ages, Elara, a young fairy, stumbled upon a hidden prophecy. The parchment spoke of a chosen one who would unlock forgotten powers and save their world from an impending doom. As Elara's heart raced with newfound purpose, she set forth on a journey to uncover her true potential and fulfill the destiny laid before her. Upon reaching a desolate valley, Elara encountered Zalaphar, a wise and ancient dragon who had witnessed the rise and fall of many civilizations. Though he appeared weary, his eyes gleamed with hope as he recognized the prophecy in Elara's hands. "You are the chosen one?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble that echoed through the mountains. "Yes," Elara replied, her voice trembling with anticipation and fear. "I must save Aetheria from the dragons and the ancient evil that threatens us." Zalaphar nodded, understanding the gravity of her words. "To succeed, you will need allies. The creatures of Aetheria have grown weary, but their spirits can still be stirred. We must find them and gather them to our cause." Together, Elara and Zalaphar embarked on a perilous journey, seeking out the scattered remnants of Aetheria's once-great communities. As they gathered allies, an air of unity and hope began to spread throughout the land. The time had come for them to face the dragons and the ancient evil in a climactic battle that would determine the fate of their world. The skies darkened as the armies of darkness approached, but Elara's heart remained steadfast. As the final confrontation began, she felt her hidden powers awakening within her. The air crackled with energy, and she knew it was time. Raising her hands, a brilliant light erupted from her fingertips, casting away the shadows that had plagued Aetheria for far too long. With her newfound power, Elara banished the ancient evil and vanquished the dragons, restoring peace to Aetheria. In the end, it was the power of hope that prevailed, and a new era dawned in the land of mythical creatures. In the enchanting land of Aetheria, where mythical creatures roamed and the air was filled with magic, a prophecy foretold the arrival of a young fairy named Elara. She possessed hidden powers that would one day save her world from an ancient evil and the dragons that served it. As Elara explored the mystical woods, she stumbled upon a wise old dragon named Zalaphar, who had been watching her for quite some time. "Elara," he said with a warm tone, "I have been observing you, and I believe you are the one spoken of in the prophecy." Elara, both fascinated and terrified by the dragon's words, replied, "A prophecy? About me?" Zalaphar nodded solemnly. "You must gather allies from each realm of Aetheria to face the evil that threatens us all. Together, you will unite the creatures of this world and restore peace." With newfound courage, Elara embarked on her quest, meeting creatures both mythical and extraordinary. She formed bonds with a gentle griffin named Gryphon, an elusive shapeshifter called Lumina, and a wise water nymph named Coraline. As they journeyed together, the group grew stronger and more determined to confront the ancient evil that loomed over Aetheria. Finally, they stood before the lair of the evil dragon, ready for the climactic battle that would decide the fate of their world. The dragons unleashed their fury upon them, but Elara's powers began to awaken with a brilliance none had ever seen. As her magical abilities peaked, she transformed into a radiant being of light and hope, casting away the darkness. In that moment, the ancient evil was vanquished, and peace was restored to Aetheria. The mythical creatures celebrated their victory, and Elara, now hailed as a hero, continued her journey with her friends, spreading hope and magic throughout the land. In the mystical land of Aetheria, where mythical creatures roamed freely, there was a prophecy that foretold the arrival of a chosen one who would bring balance and hope. The once peaceful realm had been plagued by dragons and an ancient evil for centuries, causing the inhabitants to lose faith in their own abilities. In this time of darkness, a young fairy named Elara discovered her true powers while seeking a hidden oasis. As she touched the sacred waters, a vision revealed her destiny as the chosen one mentioned in the prophecy. Overwhelmed with fear and determination, Elara embarked on her journey to fulfill her purpose and save Aetheria from impending doom. Elara's first encounter led her to Zalaphar, an ancient and wise dragon who had been watching over the land for centuries. Initially hesitant, Zalaphar agreed to help Elara in her quest after witnessing her unwavering resolve. Together, they gathered a diverse group of allies, including a cunning fox spirit named Lila, a gentle giant named Thulgor, and a fierce warrior named Tylaria. As the united forces of Aetheria approached the lair of the ancient evil, a climactic battle ensued. The power within Elara surged as she faced the dragons and the darkness head-on. With each newfound ability, her allies fought fiercely by her side. In that moment of truth, the strength of their unity and hope for a brighter future culminated in a brilliant display of power, vanquishing the evil and restoring peace to Aetheria once more. In the aftermath, Elara's transformation was complete, and she realized the true extent of her newfound abilities. The people of Aetheria celebrated their victory, for they now knew that with hope and unity, even the darkest times could be overcome. Elara had always been a normal fairy, never quite understanding why she didn't possess the same abilities as her siblings. But one day, while exploring the ancient ruins of Aetheria, she stumbled upon a hidden chamber containing an old prophecy. The prophecy spoke of a young fairy who would awaken her hidden powers to save their world from the impending doom brought on by dragons and an ancient evil. As Elara pondered the prophecy, she heard a gentle voice behind her. "Elara, is it? I am Zalaphar, a wise dragon, and I have been waiting for you." Intrigued, Elara turned to face the creature. "You must gather your allies, forged from every corner of Aetheria, and prepare for the battle against the dark forces that threaten our world." Elara was hesitant but knew she had no choice. With Zalaphar's guidance, they set out to find their allies: a swift fox, a brave knight, a cunning owl, and many others. As they journeyed together, the group grew stronger, bonding over shared stories of sacrifice and hope. Finally, the day of the climactic battle arrived. The skies darkened, and the ancient evil stirred, its malevolent presence looming over Aetheria. Elara's heart raced as she felt her powers awakening within her. She looked to Zalaphar for guidance, and with a nod, they led their allies into the fray. In that moment of desperation, Elara's powers reached their peak, unleashing a brilliant light that shattered the darkness and vanquished the ancient evil. Peace was restored to Aetheria, and the mythical creatures celebrated their newfound unity and hope for the future. Elara had always been an ordinary fairy in the magical land of Aetheria, but everything changed when she stumbled upon an ancient prophecy that revealed her true destiny. The prophecy foretold that a young fairy would awaken powerful abilities and save Aetheria from a terrible dragon invasion led by an ancient evil. As Elara pondered the meaning of the prophecy, she was approached by Zalaphar, a wise old dragon with knowledge beyond his years. "You are the one spoken of in the prophecy, Elara," he said gently. "I can teach you to harness your newfound powers and help you save our world." Elara hesitated but knew she had no choice. "We must gather allies from all corners of Aetheria to stand against the evil dragons," Zalaphar continued. "Together, we will face them in a climactic battle that will determine the fate of our realm." With newfound determination, Elara set out to find her allies. She recruited courageous knights, cunning elves, and even a few daring humans, forming an unstoppable force against the dark forces threatening their world. As they journeyed together, Elara's powers grew stronger, and she learned to control them with grace. Finally, the day of the battle arrived. The combined forces of Aetheria faced the evil dragons and their ancient master in a fierce confrontation. In the heat of the moment, Elara's powers reached their peak, casting away the darkness that had shrouded Aetheria for so long. Peace was restored, and the heroes rejoiced as they had saved their world from the jaws of destruction. In the end, Elara had not only discovered her hidden potential but also forged lifelong bonds with her allies. Together, they protected Aetheria and ensured that hope would always triumph over despair. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an ethereal glow upon Aetheria's lush landscape. Elara, a young fairy with vibrant emerald wings, gazed at the setting sun, her curiosity piqued by a strange sensation. She had always been fascinated by ancient prophecies, and tonight was no exception. As she flew to the ancient library, her thoughts raced with anticipation. ``` Upon entering the dusty library, Elara searched for the scrolls containing the long-forgotten tales of Aetheria's mythical creatures. She found the tattered parchment and unfurled it, revealing a prophecy that spoke of a fairy with hidden powers destined to save Aetheria from an ancient evil. Elara: "I never believed in prophecies, but this... This could be real." ``` The prophecy consumed her thoughts as she sought the wisdom of Zalaphar, a legendary wise dragon rumored to reside in the heart of the Enchanted Forest. Her journey led her through treacherous terrain and dark forests until she finally found the ancient tree that housed Zalaphar's dwelling. ``` Elara: "Zalaphar, I have come seeking your guidance. The prophecy speaks of me, a fairy with powers beyond my imagination. How can this be true?" Zalaphar: "Prophecies are not always easy to understand, young one. But you must trust in your heart and embrace your destiny. Together, we will assemble an alliance that can defeat the darkness." ``` Gathering allies from all corners of Aetheria, Elara formed a diverse and skilled team determined to face the imminent threat. As they journeyed together, bonds forged through shared adversity, and the power of unity grew stronger. The climactic battle commenced, with dragons soaring through the sky, creatures of all kinds fighting side by side, and Elara's powers reaching their peak. The ancient evil, once thought to be unstoppable, was vanquished as hope shone brightly across Aetheria. ``` Elara: "We did it! Together, we have saved our world from darkness." Zalaphar: "Your courage and belief in the prophecy have changed the course of history. You are a beacon of hope for all of Aetheria." ``` Elara stood in the heart of Aetheria's forest, her delicate wings shimmering in the sunlight. The whispers of ancient myths and legends danced around her, but she had never believed them to be more than stories until now. She felt an inexplicable power stirring within her, a force she could not ignore. As she gazed at the horizon, she noticed a majestic dragon soaring through the sky, its scales shimmering like jewels under the sun's rays. Elara approached the dragon, her heart pounding with anticipation. "Who are you?" she asked cautiously, taking a step closer. The dragon landed gracefully and turned to face her. "I am Zalaphar, the last of the wise dragons," he replied, his voice echoing through the forest. "I have been waiting for you, Elara. You are the one spoken of in the prophecy, destined to save Aetheria from the darkness that threatens to consume it." In that moment, Elara knew Zalaphar spoke the truth. The weight of her newfound purpose pressed heavily upon her, and she realized she was not alone in her fight. She turned to the creatures around her – fairies, elves, and even some animals – who had all gathered to aid her in her quest. "We must gather our forces and stand together against the darkness," Zalaphar declared, his voice resolute. "The time for hope is now!" The allies nodded in agreement, their determination palpable. They embarked on a perilous journey through treacherous lands, overcoming obstacles and confronting foes along the way. Finally, they reached the lair of the ancient evil, its sinister presence casting a shadow over the land. Elara stood at the forefront of the battle, her eyes filled with determination. As the climactic fight ensued, she felt a surge of power course through her veins, her newfound abilities awakening in full force. The energy emanating from her was like nothing Aetheria had ever witnessed before, and it shattered the darkness, restoring peace to the realm. Elara's transformation had been complete, and she knew that the sacrifices of her friends and allies had not been in vain. Together, they had brought hope and triumph back to Aetheria, a testament to the power of unity and the indomitable spirit of those who believed in the impossible. In the enchanting realm of Aetheria, mythical creatures thrived in harmony. Elara, a young fairy, was entrusted with the responsibility of uncovering her hidden powers and saving her world from the imminent threat of dragons and an ancient evil. The whispers of prophecy echoed through the land, foretelling the arrival of a hero who would bring balance to Aetheria once more. One day, while exploring the depths of the mystical forest, Elara stumbled upon a hidden cave. Inside, she discovered a cryptic prophecy etched into the ancient walls: "When darkness threatens to consume the land, a beacon of light shall arise, and through sacrifice and transformation, hope will prevail." As she read the words, a sudden gust of wind blew through the cavern, revealing a glowing orb. It pulsed with energy and seemed to call out to Elara, urging her to take it. Elara carried the mysterious orb back to her fairy village, where she shared her discovery with her fellow fairies. Together, they decided that the only way to uncover the true meaning of the prophecy was to seek guidance from Zalaphar, a wise and ancient dragon, rumored to possess vast knowledge of Aetheria's history. Elara and her friends embarked on a perilous journey to find the legendary Zalaphar, overcoming numerous obstacles along the way. Along their path, they encountered other mythical creatures who joined their cause, forming an unlikely alliance. As word spread of their quest, more creatures flocked to assist them, united by a shared belief in Elara's destiny. Finally, the group reached Zalaphar's lair, where the wise dragon confirmed the prophecy. Elara was indeed the beacon of light, and her powers would be vital in their upcoming battle against the ancient evil. With newfound confidence, she and her allies prepared for the climactic showdown that would determine the fate of Aetheria. In the heat of the battle, Elara's latent powers manifested, growing stronger with each passing moment. As she faced her fears and embraced her destiny, her abilities reached their peak, vanquishing the ancient evil and banishing the dragons from Aetheria forever. The realm was once again filled with hope, and a sense of unity and harmony reigned supreme among its inhabitants. The Chronicles of Aetheria: The Awakening now stood as a testament to the power of sacrifice, transformation, and hope. Elara's journey had come full circle, and her legend would echo through the ages, inspiring generations to come. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting Aetheria in a golden glow. Elara, a young fairy, perched atop a hill, gazed at the setting sun, her eyes reflecting the twilight's beauty. As she gazed into the distance, a sudden gust of wind carried an ancient prophecy to her ears. "When dragons rule the skies and darkness shrouds Aetheria, a fairy shall rise with powers unseen. Guided by a wise dragon and united by allies, they will vanquish the ancient evil that plagues our land." Elara's heart raced as she realized the prophecy spoke of her. With newfound determination, Elara ventured towards the heart of Aetheria, seeking the help of the elusive wise dragon, Zalaphar. Upon finding him, their conversation ensued: Elara: "I am the fairy spoken of in the prophecy. I must gather allies to defeat the evil that threatens our land." Zalaphar: "You are brave to seek this challenge, young one. But know that together we shall face the darkness and restore hope to Aetheria." Together they set forth, rallying allies from every corner of Aetheria. The dragons, once feared adversaries, joined their cause, as did the forest creatures and the sea dwellers. As the day of the final battle approached, Elara's powers began to manifest in full force. In the climactic battle against the ancient evil, Elara's newfound abilities shone brightly. Her powers illuminated the darkness, empowering her allies as they fought together against the dragon legions. As the dust settled, Aetheria stood united and free from the clutches of the ancient evil. Hope had returned to their land, all thanks to Elara's sacrifice, transformation, and unwavering spirit. In the heart of Aetheria, a land of mythical creatures and ancient magic, there existed a prophecy that spoke of a chosen one who would bring balance to the world. This chosen one was said to possess powers beyond comprehension and would emerge from the most unexpected of places. Elara, a young fairy with a heart full of curiosity and a mind filled with dreams, had always been fascinated by the prophecy. She knew deep down that she was destined for greatness, but she could never have imagined just how powerful her abilities truly were. One day, while exploring the depths of the Enchanted Forest, Elara stumbled upon an ancient tome hidden within a secret chamber. As she flipped through the dusty pages, a prophecy unfolded before her eyes: "When the sun sets over Aetheria, and the shadows grow long, the chosen one shall appear. With powers untapped, they will unite the realm's creatures against an ancient evil that seeks to plunge all into darkness." Feeling a mix of fear and determination, Elara set out in search of the wise dragon Zalaphar, who was said to hold the key to unlocking her hidden powers. Upon finding him high atop the Clouded Peaks, Elara pleaded for his guidance: Elara: "Zalaphar, I've discovered the prophecy, and I believe it speaks of me! But how can I be the chosen one? How can I save Aetheria from the darkness?" Zalaphar: "Fear not, young one. You have the strength within you to transform this world. Gather your allies and stand strong against the evil that threatens us all." Together, Elara and Zalaphar gathered a motley crew of dragons, forest creatures, and sea dwellers from every corner of Aetheria. They trained tirelessly, preparing for the final battle that would determine the fate of their realm. As the day of reckoning arrived, the sun set over Aetheria, casting long shadows across the land. The ancient evil emerged from the depths, its dark tendrils reaching out to consume everything in its path. Elara's powers manifested in full force, illuminating the darkness and empowering her allies. In a climactic showdown, Elara harnessed her newfound abilities to vanquish the evil forces that threatened Aetheria. The land was once again bathed in the warm glow of the sun, and hope filled the hearts of all who lived there. The mythical creatures of Aetheria rejoiced, knowing that they had been saved by the very person the prophecy foretold. And so, Elara's legend began, a symbol of sacrifice, transformation, and the unyielding power of hope. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over Aetheria, Elara stood on the edge of the forest, her heart pounding in anticipation. The ancient prophecy echoed in her mind, urging her to seek help from Zalaphar, the wise dragon. Elara: "Zalaphar, I have discovered my hidden powers. They are the key to saving Aetheria from the dragons and the ancient evil threatening our world." Zalaphar: "Your strength is immense, young one. But we must gather allies from every corner of Aetheria to stand against the darkness. Together, we will restore peace to our land." As they journeyed through the realm, Elara and Zalaphar united dragons, forest creatures, and sea dwellers in their quest. The diverse group forged friendships and bonds that would last a lifetime. Elara: "We are stronger together. Let us stand united against this evil." Together, they confronted the ancient evil in a climactic battle. Elara's powers manifested, illuminating the darkness and empowering her allies. The final blow struck by the combined forces of Aetheria sent the evil fleeing, its power broken. Elara: "Our hope has returned! We have saved our world, but we must continue to protect it." With the sun setting over Aetheria once more, Elara and her allies stood victorious. The prophecy fulfilled, they vowed to guard their realm against any future threats, their hearts filled with hope for a brighter future. Elara gazed at the horizon, her eyes filled with determination. The sun was setting over Aetheria, casting a warm glow on the land. She couldn't shake the feeling that something momentous was about to happen. Her ears perked up as she heard an ancient prophecy echo through the wind, "When darkness descends and hope fades, a young fairy shall arise with powers untold, to restore balance in Aetheria." With newfound courage, Elara sought out Zalaphar, a wise dragon who knew of the prophecy. Together, they set out to gather allies from every corner of Aetheria, including dragons, forest creatures, and sea dwellers. As their group grew, so did the strength of their bond. They knew that they had to stand united against the ancient evil threatening to consume Aetheria. The day of the climactic battle arrived. The sky darkened as the ancient evil prepared for the confrontation. Elara felt a surge of energy within her, and as she closed her eyes, her powers began to manifest. With a brilliant flash of light, her abilities were unveiled: the power to illuminate the darkness, empower her allies, and defeat the evil forces. As she harnessed this newfound strength, the ancient evil's hold on Aetheria began to crumble. With hope restored, the creatures of Aetheria celebrated their victory. Elara had saved her world from the clutches of darkness, proving herself as the hero prophesied. Her journey had only just begun, and she knew that together with Zalaphar and her newfound allies, they would face any challenge that came their way, ensuring peace and hope would always prevail in Aetheria. The sun had barely risen, casting its golden hue over Aetheria's lush landscape when Elara awoke. As she stretched her wings, a faint glow emanated from her fingertips. The young fairy had always been aware of her powers, but they had never shined so brightly before. She decided to venture outside and explore the world beyond her cozy treehouse. "Do you sense it too?" Elara asked Zalaphar, a wise dragon who resided in the neighboring cliffs. The ancient creature nodded, his scales glistening in the morning light. "The awakening of your powers is a sign," he rasped. "Aetheria needs us now more than ever." Elara listened intently as Zalaphar explained the imminent danger. An ancient evil had stirred from its slumber, threatening to engulf Aetheria in darkness. The dragon urged her to seek allies, for together they could stand against the looming threat. Elara's heart raced with determination as she soared towards the horizon, ready to rally her fellow creatures of Aetheria. As they gathered, the allies grew in number and strength. Forest creatures, sea dwellers, and even some dragons joined their ranks. Together, they prepared for a monumental battle against the ancient evil that had cast its sinister shadow over their once-peaceful realm. With Zalaphar's guidance and newfound confidence, Elara's powers flourished. Her glow illuminated the darkest corners of the battlefield, inspiring hope in her fellow fighters. As the enemy closed in, she channeled her strength into a beam of radiant energy, defeating the evil forces and bringing forth a new era of harmony for Aetheria. Elara's eyes widened as she stared at her reflection in the glassy surface of the pond. For years, she had heard whispers of an ancient prophecy, spoken only in hushed tones amongst the fairies of Aetheria. It spoke of a young fairy with hidden powers that would rise to save their world from the dragons and the ancient evil that threatened to consume it. She never believed the stories, for she was just Elara, an ordinary fairy. Yet, as her reflection shimmered with newfound brilliance, she couldn't help but wonder if she was destined for something greater. Zalaphar, a wise old dragon, sensed the change in Aetheria's balance. He had watched from the skies as the once-harmonious world descended into chaos. When he found Elara, her powers still dormant, he knew it was his duty to guide and protect her. "Elara, you must believe in yourself," Zalaphar whispered, his voice echoing through the ancient forest. "The balance of our world depends on it." As the sun set and darkness enveloped Aetheria, Elara's powers finally manifested. The once-timid fairy shone like a beacon in the night, her light illuminating the fear that had gripped their world. With Zalaphar by her side, they gathered allies from every corner of Aetheria: dragons with fiery hearts, forest creatures with ancient wisdom, and sea dwellers who echoed the songs of the ocean depths. Their combined powers formed a beacon of hope, but the ancient evil still loomed in the shadows. In the final battle against the darkness, Elara's light blazed like a supernova, empowering her allies and vanquishing the evil that had plagued their world for centuries. The dawn of a new era had arrived, and with it, the promise of hope and unity that would forever echo through the chronicles of Aetheria. As Elara stood in the heart of Aetheria's forest, she could feel the darkness seeping into the world. She knew that she had to do something to save her home. Just then, Zalaphar, the wise dragon, appeared before her. "I am Zalaphar," he said, his voice echoing through the trees, "and I have been watching you, Elara. You are the one with the hidden powers we've been waiting for." "What do you mean?" Elara asked, her heart pounding. "You must learn to control your newfound abilities," Zalaphar explained, "and gather allies from every corner of Aetheria. Together, we will stand against the ancient evil that threatens to consume our world." Elara hesitated, uncertain if she could truly make a difference. But seeing the determination in Zalaphar's eyes, she knew she had no choice but to try. "Alright," she said firmly, "I will do whatever it takes to save Aetheria." With that, Elara and Zalaphar set out on their quest, seeking help from dragons, forest creatures, and sea dwellers alike. As they journeyed together, the seeds of hope began to grow in the hearts of all who heard their message. United by a common cause, they prepared for the final battle against the ancient evil that threatened to plunge Aetheria into eternal darkness. Elara stood at the heart of Aetheria's ancient forest, her delicate wings shimmering in the fading sunlight. The darkness that had been creeping into her world seemed to grow stronger with each passing day, casting a pall over the once vibrant landscape. As she closed her eyes and listened to the whispers of the wind, a sudden gust carried an ancient prophecy to her ears. "When the fairy's heart is filled with despair, a hero shall rise to lead us back into the light." Opening her eyes, Elara searched the horizon, sensing that the time was near. Her quest for hope led her to the wise and enigmatic dragon, Zalaphar. He revealed that she possessed hidden powers, powers that could save their world from the encroaching darkness and the dragons who had fallen under its control. With newfound determination, Elara vowed to protect Aetheria at all costs. Together, Elara and Zalaphar ventured across the realm, gathering allies from every corner of Aetheria. Forest creatures, sea dwellers, and even some dragons joined their cause, united by the shared belief that hope could still be salvaged. As they traveled, their message spread, igniting sparks of hope in the hearts of those who had lost faith. With each ally that joined them, Elara's resolve grew stronger. She knew that the final battle against the ancient evil would require every ounce of her newfound power. On the eve of the confrontation, Elara stood before her army, her eyes shining with a fire that had once been lost. "We may be small," she said, her voice carrying throughout the gathered forces, "but together, we are mighty. Let us stand as one and bring light back to Aetheria!" As Elara stood in the heart of Aetheria's forest, she could feel the darkness seeping into the world. It was as if her very being was attuned to the balance of good and evil. The air around her grew colder, and a chill ran down her spine. It wasn't long before Zalaphar, the wise dragon, appeared. His scales shimmered in the fading sunlight, and his eyes held a depth of knowledge that was both comforting and unsettling. "Elara," Zalaphar began, his voice echoing through the trees, "I've sensed it too. The darkness is growing stronger, and we must do something about it." Elara looked at him in disbelief. She had always known there were mythical creatures, but she never thought she would play a part in their world. "But how can I help?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "I'm just a fairy." Zalaphar chuckled, his laughter echoing through the forest. "Your powers are hidden, Elara, but they are there. We need you to awaken them and lead us against the ancient evil." Together, they journeyed across Aetheria, gathering allies from every corner of the realm. Dragons with their fiery breaths, forest creatures with their cunning, and sea dwellers with their wisdom joined their cause. The seeds of hope began to grow in the hearts of all who heard their message. As the final battle against the ancient evil drew near, Elara's powers manifested in full force. Her once subtle glow grew into a radiant light that illuminated the darkness, empowering her allies and giving them strength. The climactic battle raged on, with dragons breathing fire and forest creatures wielding their natural magic. But it was Elara's newfound powers that ultimately defeated the dark forces, restoring peace and hope to Aetheria. And so, the Chronicles of Aetheria continued with Elara, Zalaphar, and their allies standing united against any threat that might challenge the balance between good and evil once more. Elara's eyes widened as she stared at the ancient text in front of her. It spoke of a prophecy, a chosen one who would awaken their powers to save Aetheria from the darkness that threatened to consume the world. The words seemed to echo in her mind, and she knew deep within her heart that she was the one spoken of in the prophecy. With determination burning in her eyes, Elara set off on her journey to find Zalaphar, a wise dragon rumored to possess the knowledge needed to unlock her hidden powers. Along the way, she encountered creatures both friend and foe, each teaching her valuable lessons about sacrifice, transformation, and hope. As she continued on her quest, Elara realized that the key to her success lay not just in her newfound abilities, but also in the power of unity and collaboration. One day, while resting near a crystal-clear lake, Elara overheard a conversation between two dragons discussing Zalaphar's whereabouts. Intrigued, she approached them cautiously, only to find herself face-to-face with the very dragon she sought. Zalaphar, sensing her pure heart and determination, agreed to guide Elara in mastering her powers and assembling a team of allies from every corner of Aetheria. As they embarked on their perilous journey together, Elara learned to trust her instincts and rely on the strengths of those around her. Their bonds grew stronger with each challenge they faced, and the hope that once seemed so distant began to shine through the dark clouds that had enshrouded Aetheria. Finally, the day arrived when Elara's powers manifested in full force, illuminating the darkness and empowering her allies as they confronted the ancient evil. With each of them contributing their unique abilities, they fought together against the dark forces, ultimately defeating the evil that had plagued Aetheria for so long. And in that moment, hope was restored, a new era dawned, and the once-divided lands were united under the banner of unity and friendship. In the beginning, there was darkness. An ancient evil had cast its shadow over Aetheria, a land of mythical creatures where peace and harmony once reigned. Elara, a young fairy with radiant wings, yearned for adventure beyond her humble abode in the Whispering Woods. Her curiosity led her to the edge of the forest, where she stumbled upon an old, forgotten cave. Within the cave, she discovered an ancient artifact that held the power to awaken a dormant force within her. As Elara's newfound powers began to manifest, a dragon named Zalaphar appeared before her. Wise and powerful, Zalaphar had been watching over Aetheria for centuries, waiting for the one who would challenge the ancient evil. Together, they formed an alliance and sought allies from every corner of Aetheria, uniting dragons, forest creatures, and sea dwellers in their quest to restore hope to their world. "The time has come, Elara," Zalaphar whispered as they stood before the ancient evil's lair. "You must use your powers to illuminate the darkness and empower our allies." Elara took a deep breath and focused her energy. Her wings shimmered like stars in the night sky, and her voice resonated with a newfound strength. "Let our light guide us through this darkness, and let our unity be our shield!" As Elara's words echoed through the cavern, the creatures of Aetheria felt their spirits lift. They stood together, united in their determination to save their world from the ancient evil. As they advanced toward their enemy, Elara's powers grew stronger, casting away the darkness and empowering her allies with a newfound hope. In the climactic battle that followed, Elara's radiance defeated the dark forces, and peace was restored to Aetheria. The ancient evil was vanquished, and the creatures of Aetheria rejoiced in their newfound freedom. The Chronicles of Aetheria had begun, and with it, a new era of hope and unity for all who dwelled within its borders. The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm golden hue over the enchanting land of Aetheria. Elara, a young fairy with delicate wings and eyes full of wonder, was exploring the forest when she stumbled upon a hidden grove. In that moment, she felt an inexplicable connection to the earth beneath her feet. As she stood there, entranced by the beauty around her, a sudden gust of wind whispered into her ear. "Aetheria is in grave danger," it warned. Startled, Elara looked up to see a majestic dragon soaring above her, his scales shimmering in the fading light. It was Zalaphar, a wise and ancient creature who had been watching over Aetheria for centuries. He had sensed the dark energies awakening and knew that only someone like Elara, with her hidden powers, could save their world from the impending doom. "What must I do?" Elara asked, her voice trembling. Zalaphar's eyes glowed as he replied, "You must gather allies from every corner of Aetheria – dragons, forest creatures, and sea dwellers – and unite them against the ancient evil that threatens our world." Together, Elara and Zalaphar embarked on a perilous journey, seeking out the strongest and bravest beings to join their cause. Along the way, they encountered many challenges, from treacherous mountains to deadly swamps, but with each passing day, their ranks grew stronger. Finally, as the day of the climactic battle approached, Elara stood in the heart of Aetheria, surrounded by her newfound allies. As the ancient evil emerged from the shadows, the air crackled with anticipation and fear. With a deep breath, Elara focused her hidden powers, and in that instant, they manifested in brilliant, radiant energy. The light illuminated the darkness, empowering her allies and casting away the evil's influence. In that moment of hope, Aetheria was saved, and a new age of unity dawned over their once-torn world. Elara had transformed from a simple fairy to a beacon of hope, proving that even the smallest of creatures could change the fate of an entire realm. Elara stared at the glowing mark on her palm, her heart racing with both fear and excitement. She knew this was no ordinary mark, but the manifestation of a hidden power within her. The ancient prophecy spoke of a young fairy who would rise to save Aetheria from the dragons and the ancient evil that threatened to plunge the world into darkness. Elara had always known she was different, but she never imagined she was the one foretold in the prophecy. As she stood in the heart of the forest, a sudden gust of wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. "Elara, the time has come. You must embrace your destiny and use your powers for good," the ethereal voice echoed. With newfound resolve, Elara decided to find Zalaphar, the wise dragon who could guide her on her journey. "I must warn you, Elara, the path you choose will be fraught with danger and sacrifice," Zalaphar cautioned as he joined her in the quest. "But together, we can change the fate of Aetheria." With a nod, Elara agreed to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Together, they ventured across the land, gathering allies from every corner of Aetheria – fierce dragons with their breathtaking wing power, forest creatures who could blend into their surroundings like shadows, and sea dwellers who wielded the mighty ocean as their ally. As their ranks grew, so did Elara's powers, illuminating even the darkest corners of her heart and awakening her true potential. With their combined strength, they faced the ancient evil in a climactic battle that shook the foundations of Aetheria. As darkness seemed to consume everything, Elara's powers manifested in full force, banishing the shadows and empowering her allies. The final blow struck with a brilliant flash, defeating the dark forces and restoring hope to the hearts of all who called Aetheria home.

[unknownjpegs]

impact

“Extraction six, one injury. Requesting medical.” 

At the comm crackle, two black-clad heads lift and swivel in eerie unison. Silhouettes near the same height, stationed and secluded on the swell of a patchy-grassed hill. Awaiting orders just like this.

The smaller, feminine of the two figures begins to rise from a crouch. Thumb at her neck, ready to respond in affirmative. The radio crackles again, and she pauses to listen.

“E-ex…traction six. Amend to one— one fatality. Med stand-by.”

Her companion offers a disappointed tsk.

 “Awh, boo.”

Both settle back into position, wary of the snap-white flashes of gunfire in the distance, the echoing trawl of it across the landscape. Eyes peeled, ears perked: ready to assist.

Well, one of them.

“You’ll get yours,” the smaller figure intones, voice washed in carefully vague judgment and considerably less vague revulsion. “They’re not unit one.”

Her companion grunts in agreement. “Fuckin’ messy.” Then, with an audible smile, adds: “Hopefully.”

“Ugh, Palanivel, you’re…” she sucks in a breath, adjusts her tone. Will tell anyone it was a slip away from professionalism, a harsh snap reigned back for that reason alone. “Disgusting.”

“Ooh, Rodriguez.” Benji purrs theatrically, leaning forward and twisting to find her eyes where they’re shadowed behind that shiny visor. He knows, without seeing, that they dart away. “Keep goin’ to town on me, all snide like that? Might need to reconsider some things.” 

Shut up, she might laugh if it were anyone else. If it were a normal friendship. Barely a friendship, really. First time they met, Rodriguez’s had glazed a bit in fear, just like the rest. Except unlike the rest, she’d sneered at him before deliberately neutral wariness blanketed her expression.

It made Benji like her immediately.

“Disgusting.” Rodriguez says again, but there’s a tiny, tiny hint of something suspiciously light in her usually clipped tone. Hard for people not to lean into the charm when he lays it on like that. 

Their exchange is interrupted by the soft, distant bang of a door opening. At the far end of the field, a figure escapes the ruins of the southern-most warehouse. Hurt, judging from the limp, but neither of them move. The person isn’t dressed in Shadow blacks. 

Enemy, goes the tingle within, cool fingers tracing the inside of his skull. Get ‘em.

When Benji slings the Sig fluidly over his forearm, settles that neat cross cleanly center over the fleeing target’s head, there’s a hedging sigh beside him.

“Not meant to engage.”

“True.” He agrees, and adjusts his finger to brush along the rounded trigger guard instead. “Good thing it’s not first contact, ‘ey?” He glances side-long, but his partner can’t see that — or the smirk beneath his mask. “C’mon. Just a bit of defensive fire as a treat?”

“Christ,” Rodriguez sounds sick about it, but not with actionable strength. “He’s running away.”

And he is. The combatant, small from their vantage point, turns in panicked circles and then sprints west. 

As best he can, with that limp. Benji notes. Hm. Wonder what’s broken.

He’s got the mind to zig-zag, but unfortunately not enough smarts to shake up the pattern. Benji traces it steadily through the scope.

“Yeah.”  The soldier stumbles, arms flung out to catch on the ground, and then gets up — legs kicking cartoonish in the dirt. The limp is worse, and he moves a little slower. “Runnin’ away into a sledgehammer.”

To the west, Wolffe’s leading another unit, since his is largely down for the count. Benji’s been listening closely to their calls. Listening more to the increasingly adrenaline-soaked breaths that begin to lace the corporal’s barking commands. 

Sounds good like that. Sounds almost like it hurts.

Benji’s brain helpfully offers up a miraged image, wavering and fuzzed with desire, of him hefting the weapon across broad shoulders with ease. Warmth tickles below his belly button. A hint of unspooling, sick heat that feels as if a flame is being held up internally, licking chars at his pink insides. It winds solid, feels now like there are fingers within him, petting at the interior of his abdomen. Coaxing to be let free.

He imagines the graceful, crushing, messy, wet swing of that sledgehammer. Imagines the fingers tearing out of him. He shivers.

Benji flicks the safety. “Isn’t it the kind thing to do?” He drops an eye to the sight again. Drops the cross, too — from the figure’s skull to its leg. 

No, is what he knows she wants to say, no it’s fucking not. You could let him run. You could let him go.

Rodriguez shifts in place, stretches out one leg. “I don’t think I’d call it kind.”

“Mm,” Benji hums. His index finger pets over the trigger. “Me either. What d’they call those old nurses — the ones that go ‘round killin’ terminally ill fuckers in hospital?” 

“Angels of mercy,” Rodriguez’s voice is suddenly thin like spun-sugar candy, unsettled. “Hold on —”

The rifle cracks loud. Rodriguez is not a jumpy woman, but she jolts now. Gloved hands twisted in the grass on either side of her thighs, visor sliced bright and shining with the flash. 

“Oops.” Benji says dryly. “Missed.”

Except he hadn’t, of course. The shot is dead-on. Just…not in the slightest bit merciful. Benji’s isn’t an expert shot, not his purpose, but he’s adequate. Decent enough he could make it quick, clean through the heart or skull. 

Benji’s not decent.

Instead, the combatant writhes on the ground. Petting in disbelief, clutching desperate, at the remains of his leg. Through the scope Benji notes how the hinge of it hangs at a funny, loose angle. Been nearly halved; what was once a kneecap now flesh and exposed tendon, shattered bits of bone. Barely connected by a straining bit of muscle.

It’s a mortal wound if he doesn’t get help, judging by the way blood weeps in great spurts from those severed arteries. 

Rodriguez doesn’t have a scope, so the image is less clear. The agony is palpable, if not audible, and so vivid even from afar that she goes: “Jesus.”

It’s nearly impossible for Benji to keep the suggestion from his tone and the filthy, twisted grin from his mouth when he slips a thumb over the radio: “0-5, combatant was headed towards your position. Downed — injured.”

A crackling pause, and then Wolffe’s slightly distorted voice. “Copy.”

He’s a massive blot in the doorway as the metal swings open. The soldier, who has now resorted to desperately pulling himself towards the warehouse’s cover, freezes. He makes a hopelessly sad (amusing, Benji thinks) half-circle in the dirt. Escape attempt. But Wolffe’s got long legs, and this guy’s down to just one. The distance swallows up quick in that wolfish saunter.

Benji’s scope’s smears over the bloodied enemy. Slows as it traces a provocative, voyeuristic regard up the corporal’s legs. Benji darts his tongue out to wet his lips, swallows down pooling saliva, as that cross lingers in a quartering bisection of a wide torso. Holds there a moment, right over his heart. He watches the heaving breaths and flex of muscle as that dense weapon rises beautifully skyward. 

Again, the view lifts. Catches and hovers on Wolffe's rakish, grotesque expression. He's not wearing a helmet.

Gorgeous, Benji thinks. That wide grin splits wrong. Green eyes glinting with awful, sublime ferocity. The head of the weapon is a silvery-flash flurry as it holds hands with gravity. Sweeps in a graceful, plummeting arc to the earth. Brutal. Crushing. 

Gorgeous.

Its impact into skull and brain isn’t audible over the distance. Benji wishes it was. But he at least feels the impact in his stomach; as if the punishing, mercifully destructive thud is meant for him. The harsh steel head pounds that flame, smothers it, crushes those petting fingers in a wobbling, lascivious red mess. The heat becomes something thick and soggy in his gut. 

He doesn’t focus on the impact. Instead, he is absolutely riveted by the crimson pied varnish of viscera as it paints across Wolffe’s pale face. Looks like ink from this distance, and even though it disappears against the grim achromatic wash of his uniform, Benji knows it’s there. A deep, ruddy color that smears across his cheek, the seat of a black glove as he wipes it away. 

 “Wow,” Benji breathes, airy and appreciative. “Vicious.”

“Disgusting,” Rodriguez says for a third time, meaning it. She’s not looking at the scene anymore. Probably hasn’t been for awhile. “Just disgusting.”

Benji laughs.

“Messy,” he corrects in an eerie chirp. The cheerfulness sounds mad as it wraps wantonly around the lust-rough crackle of his voice. “Nice and fuckin’ messy.”

[candy-floss-crazy]

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[lockewrites]

I Thought I Lost You

F!LDB x Miraak || SFT || 946 words

AO3 & FF.net

Prompt: Miraak and Telyra, "I thought I lost you" hugs, course whats not to love about hurt/comfort fics

“Search for survivors,” Telyra ordered. “Gather those well enough to transport to the healers.”

“And the enemy?”

“Bind any of higher ranking,” she replied. “Kill the rest.”

With a nod, the lieutenant rushed off, gathering her unit to carry out Telyra’s orders.

“General.”

Another soldier approached, his voice went unheard as Telyra looked over the battlefield. Iron and ozone weighing down the air, too heavy even for any bit of breeze; the scene stagnant, silent other than the calls of those looking for fallen loved ones and fellow soldiers.

“Telyra,” he said, speaking louder.

She turned this time, looking up despite every move causing her body to protest in pain. Erik, looking a little worse for wear but otherwise uninjured. 

“There’s been no word from Miraak.”

Any relief she felt at seeing her closest friend alive vanished. Her stomach dropped, nausea welling inside her as a lump formed in the back of her throat, threatening her breath.

“Find Miraak!” she cried across the fields, blood painting her tongue as her Voice sent a ripple through the grasses. “He takes priority!” 

Telyra pushed past Erik and hurried through the bodies in the direction she’d last seen Miraak. Eyes darting over each fallen soldier, praying he wasn’t one of them yet desperate to see his face.

“Miraak!” she Shouted. Again and again, she called out, her Voice piercing the air as her throat burned.

Her treatment of the dead was unsanctimonious, but she cared little; she flipped bodies, tore off helmets, pushed the dead aside with her bloodied boots. With each unfamiliar face, the bile in her throat grew. If anyone spoke to her, it was lost to the deafening pounding of her heart in her ears and her panicked focus. This frantic pattern continued, her trembling body pushing beyond the boundaries of exhaustion and her voice becoming nothing more than a rasp with each order barked at every passing soldier. Find him. Find him. Find him. Find Miraak!

It all felt in vain; with each minute past, his chances of surviving dwindled. If he was hurt, if he was on the brink of death… 

Telyra broke into a run, willing her spent muscles to continue through the exhaustion and pain. She fell to her knees beside a large, face-down body clad in familiar armor. Turning him over with what little strength she had left, Telyra was filled with an anxiety-provoking mix of relief and dread. His front was covered in blood, originating from multiple impacts in the armor.

“Miraak.” Her voice was barely a whisper. 

His eyes fluttered and opened, barely enough to see the blues of his irises. He placed a shaky hand on her arm a moment before it slid off.

“Miraak!” She cradled his face as tears rolled down her own. 

With his lips barely parting, he muttered, “Dii mal ruvaak.” 

“Don’t you dare leave me!” she cried.

His body grew limp.

“I need a healer!” she Shouted, her mouth filling with blood once more. “Get me a fucking healer!” 

______

“You need to sleep.”

Telyra ignored Erik and continued her pacing outside the infirmary. It’d been a struggle to get her out of the room, but Erik managed to talk her down; a feat that impressed even the seasoned healer.

“You passing out from exhaustion isn’t going to help Miraak,” he lectured.

She threw her hands up. “How am I supposed to rest knowing he could–”

“Telyra.” Erik pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on and placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll make it. He’s always made it.” His voice wavered, so subtle anyone other than Telyra would’ve missed it. 

Stepping away from Erik, she leaned against the wall and slid onto the floor, digging her fingers into her battle-greased hair and letting her head rest on her palms.

Tears pricked her already-raw eyes. They’d come so far, were so close to seeing the end of this war; stability and peace a near-reality on the verge of crashing. Their life together had been constantly plagued with the promise of another fight, another enemy, another world-ending threat. To see a life of quiet and love teetering on the edge, a breath away from falling into Oblivion; it tore at her soul.

The door opened, and Healer Arimon stepped out, his wrinkles looking even deeper, his eyes noticeably exhausted.

“General.”

Telyra looked up at him, her lips parted but unable to ask the question that caught in her throat and threatened to strangle her.

“He’s unconscious,” he began, “but stable.”

Erik held a hand out to Telyra, pulling her to her feet.

“It will take time for General Miraak to recover,” the healer explained. “We’ll need to keep an eye on him, but for now, you may go to him.” 

He stepped aside before Telyra could run through him.

“Thank you, Arimon,” she heard Erik say behind her.

“The gods truly must watch over him,” Arimon replied in a hushed tone. “Were he not Dragonborn, I don’t think he would’ve survived.”

Telyra was too elated to see the rise and fall of his chest to pay much mind to the implications of Arimon’s words. A basin stood in the corner of the room, bloodied rags fueled the fire, the light bouncing across Miraak’s face. She hovered over him, her fingers grazing over the raised, sutchered skin on his cheek. Her hand moved to rest against his other, thumb trembling across his cheekbone.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered, fresh tears rolling down her face.

His head turned, his hand covered hers, and he placed a soft kiss on her palm.

His voice was little more than breath. “Hi fen neh saan zey.”

[spinchip]

It’s Not That Bad

Wordcount: 2400 Ship: Mountaingshipping, Cole/Zane/Kai Warnings: Broken bones, blood, violence, injury

Summary: Zane hides an injury.

The fight can’t even be classified as a real fight, in Coles opinion. It’s a street brawl, raw knuckles and split lips- the remaining members of the SOG are brutal when they catch the scent of blood. Without leadership the gang has devolved into troublemakers and men itching for violence, and they’ve gotten bolder- the fight taking place in broad daylight near the center of town. Two weeks ago they’d taken Jay down in the middle of a scrap, a bat to the side of his temple when the group had been separated (he’d been laid up in bed in the dark for days afterwards with a concussion) and since then they’d gotten cocky about the Ninja's weakness.

Lloyd had been adamant about showing a united front- the Ninja team had to be unflappable, rigid and strong to show the growing gang that they were not so easily beaten. They couldn’t afford to give them another inch, which is why it’s so frustrating when they get separated once more. There’s a new player on the gangs side this time, a big man hefting a hammer that could hold its own against Coles. He’s not particularly fast, but the others in the group keep them occupied while the man swings his weapon with bone breaking force. His presence was not something they could ignore, splitting their attention dangerously, making their formation too easy to break.

And it’s not Jay this time, but Zane, who is pushed into a throng of enemies all looking for blood.

Cole doesn’t see what happens to get them to this point, he misses the moment Zane is surrounded, but Lloyd urges the others to make their way to him over the clash of fists. Zane’s always been capable, and today is no exception- but just like before when it had been Jay, there are too many, and it’s not long before a lucky shot sends Zane to the pavement. A sloppy leg sweep Zane wasn’t expecting, going sprawling onto his stomach. It’s simple enough to recover from just fine.

Except the big man swings his hammer before Zane can get his hands underneath him. Down down down in a deadly arc-

There’s no warning Cole can give, no speed or strength to stop it, random men pushing him away from his friend but not crowded enough where he can’t watch it happen. The head of the hammer hits the base of Zane back and the sound it makes- Cole can feel the impact in his bones, his stomach churning and nearly making him gag. The crack of the anvil on metal makes him feel ill.

Zane doesn’t yell or scream, his fingers dig into concrete so hard they leave gouges, and then he goes completely limp. He looks dead, lying facedown on the pavement. The gang members hoot and holler, their fight rejuvenated, and they jump into the fray with more vigor than before.

Slowly, the man brings his hammer up and Coles realizes he means to hit him again.  He pushes frantically through the fight, blows glancing off his shoulders as he barrels through. Nya appears at his side, hair askew, and throws waves of water that sweep several people off their feet, dumping them clear of the path. Cole slams into the big man's side before he can deliver another blow, knocking him back from Zanes still form. Before either of them can get to the downed nindroid, new adversaries file in to try and beat them back, the fight resuming- but the ninja now scrambled and panicked at the loss of one of their own, and the gang member reveling in it.

The man with the hammer, he’s got thin blonde hair and dark eyes, manages to keep up with Cole. Despite Coles obvious skill and experience, he’s making stupid rookie mistakes. Internally cursing, Cole urges himself to focus- rushing into the fray to protect Zane would mean nothing if he fell to the man's hammer too, but it’s looking increasingly grim. The man is pushing himself faster, sweat beading on his brow, and he’s strong.

A smaller man darts past the two of them in a planned maneuver. The big man steps back and Cole is thrown off kilter as his hammer swings wide, and realizes too late that the smaller man has a knife- he can’t avoid it now. He twists, steps back, tries to minimize the damage- and then the man’s legs slide out beneath him and he hits the ground hard, head bouncing off the ice-slick pavement. Zane appears at Coles side and throws ice hard, frost and big chunks of ice invigorated by the wet pavement from Nyas last attack freeze the big man's legs to the road. Cole falls into place at his side, the two fighting off a few more before the gang realizes Zanes back on his feet.

Their bravado and cockiness vanishes. One man turns and runs, and at that the gang scatters- the one who are able to, of course, and are not frozen to the sidewalk or knocked unconscious.

Cole spins around to face Zane, who’s surveying the scene silently, “Are you alright?” He asks, hovering his hands over Zane as if to feel out the injury by aura alone.

Zane’s eyes are trained on the alleyways the gang members disappeared into, mouth a thin and calculated line, “I am alright. The Sons of Garmadons strength is dwindling.”

Cole blinks, frowning. It was almost like Zane wasn’t speaking to him, but the backs of the men hiding away in the dark corners of the streets. As if he was making a point.

The cops show up and begin to load the remaining men into Police Cruisers or ambulances, depending on their state. The ninja did not always pull their punches, especially after Zane hit the ground.

Zane watches as the man with the hammer is loaded onto a police cruiser.

Lloyd motions the two of them over, the others are gathered near a throng of policemen milling about, and Cole reaches out and sets a hand of the small of Zane's back to lead him- Zanes shirt is soaked through and ice cold. The moment his fingers make contact, Zane jolts forward with the barest intake of breath between his teeth. Cole jerks his hand back, the pain flashing across Zanes face almost impossible to catch, but Cole knows his boyfriend better than anyone. A blank mask slips over Zanes face as he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge the act, striding across the pavement before Cole can comment.

Cole trails after him, and now that he’s really looking he can see a dark outline of what looks like water straining the back of Zanes gi. In the heat of battle, if Zane got a particularly bad scape, he’d do some emergency first aid and patch himself up with ice like a scab. The hammer hit him hard, it must have jostled something loose- Cole tries not to worry too hard, Zane is still standing and had even fought with him. They just needed to wrap this up quick and get him home. He has half a mind to scoop the nindroid up gently and carry him back right now- but Zanes' words from earlier hang around his ears. Treating Zane like a delicate injured flower in front of any of the new SOG was bound to encourage their violence, just like in the aftermath of Jay. Like Lloyd wanted, a united and unbreakable front is what they needed to project.

Zane is hiding an injury, and for the sake of reputation, Cole has to allow it.

The police chief is standing with the others, and by the time Cole catches up Zane’s already reassuring everyone, “I am fine.” he says gently, Kais worry coming off of him in waves, “Is there anything we can help with?” He directs his next question to the police chief, clasping his hands in front of him.

Cole, along with the rest of his little family, zeroes in on the way Zanes hands are trembling.

His face is completely serene, his gi is soaked through as his ice patch job struggles to stay frozen, and he’s shaking badly enough for even Nya to notice, shooting him a concerned glance as the Police Chief thanks them. He drones on about safety measures and clean up and other things Cole wants him to shut up about so he can bundle Zane up in his arms and kiss and make it better.

Finally, once the conversation draws to a close and they can excuse themselves from the scene, they unconsciously box Zane in as they walk back to where the bounty is parked. The ramp is down and they surround him protectively as they trek up it. Zane still doesn’t hint that anything is wrong, the silence stretching over them tense as they wait for something to happen.

Nya lifts the bounty into the air, and still Zane doesn’t say anything as he pensively stares over the edge of the railing. Cole can’t stand it anymore, he turns around as the city disappears beneath the clouds, “Zane-” he starts.

“Cole.” Zane gasps, grabbing at Coles shoulders as his knees buckle, the calm mask cracking down the middle as he collapses. Like on the pavement before, Zane clenches his hands and bunches Coles gi in his fingers. Cole, startled, grabs Zanes waist- he gasps and whimpers, and cold fear snaps across Cole's mind. He’s never heard Zane make that noise before.

“Not there,” he shakes his head, Cole moves his hands up to cup under Zanes armpits, and while he doesn’t seem to be happy he doesn’t make that awful whimper again.

Jay and Kai are at his side, fluttering their hands in a panic. They want to help but Zanes reaction makes them reluctant to put their hands on him.

“How can we help? What’s hurt?” Jay asks as Cole pulls Zane closer, pressing them together to help stabilize him.

Zane doesn’t attempt to stand on his own, “Shut me down,” He pants, “It’s- the hammer. He broke my spine.”

Jay pales dramatically, weaseling between the two of them to gain access to Zanes chest compartment. He pried it open quickly, reaching it with practiced ease and resting his finger on the switch off button.

He hesitates, under normal circumstances Jay was to never use this button, “Are you sure?”

“Jay.” Zane stresses each letter, and tears spill over his eyes.

He goes limp- again- as Jay pushes the button, his forced shutdown stealing the iron grip from his hands and the tension from his body. He ragdolls in coles arms, slumping bonelessly into his chest. With no ice to keep him stable, Coles can feel the way his body- it’s… it’s not quite right, the break in his spine sending intense warning siglas to coles head where he’s laid against him. The same bone deep wrongness he’s felt once, in dance class when he was 12, and a girl landed wrong doing a complex dance move and her hand had twisted the wrong way- it’d made him sick, seeing the new bend in her wrist where there wasn’t supposed to be one. It makes him feel sick to carry Zane down to the garage when the dock at the monastery, legs trailing behind him and waist a little too loose where the rigid metal casing was snapped.

Jay's prognosis is, “It’s better than It could have been.” Which is not reassuring to Cole, but Nya seems to lose a bit of tension at.

Zane's artificial spine worked much like Cole or Kais, a bundle of ‘nerves’ and wires and other tubes strung through it to keep it safe. The blow had broken through the outer protective metal but the main cord and delicate wiring was largely unharmed. A few pinched and torn wires, mostly- Zane's ice brace kept the wound from deteriorating drastically. Jay wouldn’t comment on how much pain an injury like this would heap onto their friend, but Cole remembers the way the blood had drained from his face at Zanes confession.

“The fact that he could even move…” He mutters to Nya in awe, delicately and oh so gently maneuvering wires. Nya nodded, mute.

Once their repairs reach completion it’s nearly dark out, Jay flips the on switch back up, and they wait for Zane to turn on.

He wakes up with wet eyes, a few stray tears slipping down his face as the leftover pain signals work their way out of his system. He twists over the edge of the table, looking for relief from the hazy pain, nearly taking himself to the floor if not for Coles gentle hands steadying him.

He clutches at Cole again with a low sound of pain, and slowly his eyes clear.

Cole holds him as Zane buries his face in the soft of his gi top, hiding his eyes against Cole's collarbone. Kai moves in and starts to pet his hair soothingly, warmth spreading through his hands.

“You should have said something.” Cole murmurs, “This wasn’t a loose tube or a scrape, this isn’t something you should have powered through. You should have stayed down.” Cole doesn’t dwell on how much it must have hurt for Zane to get back on his feet, and how if he hadn’t the grunts knife would have struck home.

“I could not.” Zane breathes, pulling a way to readjust so he’s resting his cheek against Cole and his face is bare, “If the SOG knew they had hurt me-”

“We would have dealt with it just fine.” Kai says firmly, “Zane, this- you can’t hide an injury that bad. Watching you collapse, knowing how badly you were in pain…” He can’t finish his sentence, huddling closer and clutching at both his boys.

“I apologize,” Zane mutters, his eyelids flutter.

“We can discuss this tomorrow.” Cole says gently, “But I think we’re all exhausted. Let’s go to bed.”

Kai looks like he wants to say something else, but Zanes dazed and sleepy expression makes the words die on his tongue. He runs a hand through his hair, and Cole watches the weight of the day fully settle on his boyfriend's shoulders, “...Yeah, that sounds good to me.”

Cole carries Zane up to bed, Kai immediately taking up a spot at their boys' side. Zane curls into the warmth of Kais embrace as Cole turns out the light and crawls in behind him. Cole cuddles into Zane, who’s already asleep again, and idly traces the near imperceptible scar on his back where the hammer had split metal.

He stares into the patch of darkness where Zanes head is, and thinks about Zane lying prone on the pavement. He pulls him closer, wraps him up in his arms and holds on tight.

He closes his eyes, and sleep doesn’t hesitate to come.

[aquietwritingcorner]

Writers Month Day 8: Water Word Count: 4316 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: T Characters: Olivier Mira Armstrong, Captain Buccaneer Warning: Summary: Buccaneer isn’t sure of his new commanding officer. She’ll have to prove to him that she’s Briggs. Notes: Yes, I know that Olivier is a Major General and not a Brigadier General. I headcanon that she started out at Briggs as a Brigadier General and then was promoted to a Major General later. I gave the name Wendall to the guy Olivier gave the broken watch to in the series. I also headcanon that Buccaneer was there before Olivier, and he didn’t lose his arm until sometime after Miles arrived and the three of them had become close. AO3 || ff.net

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 Water

 Captain Cromward “Ward” Buccaneer watched as his new commanding officer went through her sword forms. He still wasn’t sold on Brigadier General Olivier Mira Armstrong. She hadn’t proven herself to him yet. Briggs was a harsh place, and for all her seeming strength and even the slight incidents that she had led them through, she still hadn’t proven to him that she was Briggs material yet.

Buccaneer had been at Briggs since his early career. Briggs was where the military sent people they didn’t want to deal with. They hadn’t wanted to deal with him, and his unconventional way of doing things. They hadn’t wanted to admit that his way in the mountains—a lot of which came from the ways of his ancestors, who lived in those mountains before either Amestris or Drachma—just might be better than theirs. So, they had stuck him out here and told him to go play mountain bear in the mountains. That had been fine by him. He excelled up here.

There were lots of people who had been up here for years. Mick Murray had probably been here the longest. Wendall had been here the second longest. Henschel had been here just a couple of years longer than Buccaneer. Doc had come the year after he had arrived, after their old Doc finally kicked the bucket. Neil had come two years after that, even though there was minimal use for an automail mechanic up here. Automail and Briggs temperature didn’t mix well. Their old commander had been here for years as well. Buccaneer had been here when he arrived and wasn’t surprised that he was still here when he left.

Their old commander had been a drunk of a general, too caught up on how he had been exiled to really care about the fort or the men. He did his duty, but that was about all he did. Buccaneer took care of training the new troops that came up, and between him, Murray, Wendall, Henschel and Doc, they managed to keep the fort running well enough to get by. Command sent them just enough supplies to get them through until the next shipment, but everyone knew that they considered Briggs little more than cannon fodder to slow Drachma down and raise the alarm for Northern Command.

Buccaneer had been sure that their old commander knew that too, and it was part of the reason he drank so heavily. Better to die drunk here than not, he’d told Buccaneer a few times. After all, they were all aware that the way most people left Briggs was in a body bag. Few people retired, and fewer people were reassigned. Buccaneer had been sure their old commander was going to be here until he killed himself with alcohol poisoning.

And then he had been sent a retirement letter, and she had been sent to them.

Buccaneer had been suspicious of her from the moment she stepped out of that car. He was familiar with the name “Armstrong.” An old Amestrian family with a strong military history. They were pure Amestrian through and through, high society at that. She had fit the bill, too. Blond hair kept back in a bun. Piercing blue eyes. Full, pink lips. A voluptuous figure. And a condescending attitude on top of that. She didn’t look like Briggs material; she looked like someone who had ridden a family name to the rank of general.

Although, Buccaneer had to admit that she wasn’t as bad as he expected. Her welcoming speech had proved that. She had slammed her sword down on the ground and proclaimed that she would turn Briggs into the finest military institution there was, and make the Drachman forces fear them. She expected all of the men at Briggs to put their all into their work, and she wasn’t going to coddle any of them. It was shape up or ship out. And then she had walked away. It had left everyone blinking and not exactly sure what to make of it or of her.

None of that had been cleared up when she met with Buccaneer, insisting on going through the six-week survival training with him, and declaring it mandatory from then on out. She had also spent the next three months after that working every job Briggs had to offer. She wanted to know how the fort ran from the bottom up, she had told Buccaneer. A good leader, she had insisted, understands the tasks of his subordinates. A good leader knows what the jobs take. She wanted to know and understand all of it.

It had, Buccaneer admitted, softened the men towards her a bit. She was far different from their previous commander. She, at least, appeared to care about them. She was also working on shoring up neglected parts of the fort and making plans to make it more self-sustainable. Buccaneer had heard her making waves on the phone to get what she wanted.

But even with all of that, he still wasn’t sure that she was Briggs. Briggs was more than knowing the troops, or getting things done, or learning a job. There was something much deeper to it than that, and he wasn’t convinced that she was the right material for the job. He was pretty sure she was a good commander, but he wasn’t sure that she was Briggs.

Briggs was solidarity, because no one else was going to look out for them, but each other. Briggs was knowing the soldier next to you, being willing to die for him, and him for you. Briggs was knowing everyone had secrets and baggage, and not asking or caring about it. Briggs was their own culture and traditions, with morbid, off the wall humor that made no sense to anyone else. Briggs was grit and determination. Briggs was knowing that you had a duty to perform, and no one would ever give you credit for it. Briggs was being willing to sacrifice yourself for the sake of the fort.

Their old commander had led them through more than a few Drachman attacks. But he had never been Briggs. General Amrstrong had led them through some incidents as well, but that didn’t mean that she was Briggs either. She had yet to prove her loyalty to the fort—to the men who sacrificed for the fort.

“Captain Buccaneer, sir?”

Buccaneer looked away from their new general as a sergeant walked towards him. Smicht, Buccaneer recalled.

“Yes, Sergeant?” Buccaneer answered.

“Here’s the latest reports from the patrols.” The Smicht handed the reports over to him.

Buccaneer looked through them and frowned. There was increased Drachman activity in the contested area. That was never a good sign. He had noticed that it had picked up a bit since Armstrong had arrived. Was Drachman feeling her out, the same way the men were? It was a possibility. And if Drachma attacked in full without Briggs having full confidence in their commander, it could be a problem.

“Thanks,” he said. He looked back down at Armstrong. “I’ll let the general know.”

Smicht saluted, and then left, and Buccaneer considered Armstrong again. He had his own ideas on how to deal with this, but he was interested to see what she wanted to do. He headed down to the lower level of the gym, and towards her.

What she wanted to do, it turned out, was investigate the areas of report herself. Buccaneer organized a patrol, but he bristled as he did it. Did she not think the Briggs scouts were accurate? They were well trained—he had seen to it himself. They knew how to tell what was what in the frozen forests of Briggs. But he didn’t argue with her. Instead, he went too, wanting to keep an eye on this woman.

He, General Armstrong, and patrol unit left the fort, all in full winter gear. The general had not needed any assistance in putting it on, but Buccaneer did notice her scowling a bit at her hat as the bun she kept her hair in would make it ride up in the back and down in the front. Still, she didn’t let it impact her as they walked, her sharp eyes darting about. Buccaneer approved of that, at least. Staying alert out here was paramount.

They walked until they reached the latest area that the Drachman forces had been seen at. It was closer to the fort then the others, as if Drachma was creeping increasingly closer. The patrol approached it cautiously, on guard for anything. Buccaneer stuck close to Armstrong as she examined the area. She looked around at the snow and at the trees around it. Her frown deepened as she did.

“…There’s something not right here,” she finally said.

“What do you mean, sir?” Buccaneer asked.

“I mean that something isn’t right.” She paused. “Do you notice anything unusual about the snow?”

Buccaneer frowned and looked at the snow. It seemed pristine. In fact, it seemed a little too pristine. “There’s no debris,” he said. “No tracks either. And it seems… smooth.” He was impressed. That wasn’t something that just anyone would have caught.

She nodded. “As if someone had come and put it down for some reason.” She scowled. “I don’t like this.” She looked back at Sergeant Gennis, their radio man. “Call back to the fort. Have them send some men out here with shovels. I want to see what’s under this snow.”

“Yes, sir!” Gennis said.

“You think they’re burying something here?” Buccaneer said.

“It’s a possibility,” she replied. “At the least, they did something near here, and I want to know what.”

There was bite and determination in her voice, and Buccaneer almost felt a grin start to form. He did like that. The general wasn’t through, though. She made them visit each of the locations, and each time the snow was just as unusual. Even if it wasn’t as pristine as the first place they visited, it was clear that the snow had been moved and replaced at some point. More teams were called in to dig and see what they could find.

It was at the location of the one furthest from the fort, the first place that the patrols had spotted the Drachman troops, that they took a break and stopped moving. Mostly, it was because there was no clear place to go on to, or at least, not that Buccaneer could see. However, the general hadn’t ordered them back yet, instead looking at a map, frowning over it.

“…Buccaneer,” she said, beckoning him over with her voice alone. “You know this land better than I do. I want your assessment.”

That wasn’t something he expected, but he came over to look at the map with her. “Yes, sir?” he questioned.

“These are the areas where patrols were seen,” she said, pointing out the areas on the map, “and these are the unusual areas we’ve found. Where do you think they’re likely to go next?”

Buccaneer frowned as he looked at the map and considered the area. Maps, he felt, were useful, but they weren’t the same as knowing the area yourself. Maps didn’t tell you where the tree lines and bushes were thickest, or where you knew the snow liked to pile up and hide hollows in the wintertime, or areas where the river froze and where it didn’t. That sort of thing required on the ground experience.

“…If I were them,” he said, looking down the locations on the map, “I’d say… probably here. Its closer still to the fort, and there’s a small clearing in the forest there. It would be a good place to do whatever they’re doing.”

The general nodded. She looked at the map, and tugged her hat further down on her ears as she did, her bun making the hat ride up again.  “And how would you think that they’d get there?” She asked him.

Buccaneer considered the map again. “I’d go along the river. It’s rapid enough that it’s not all frozen up this time of year. Parts of it still flow.”

“Which parts?”

“Here… here… and here, specifically. Those areas don’t freeze up until the thick of winter.”

The general nodded and fixed her hat again. Buccaneer couldn’t take it anymore.

“Begging the general’s pardon, but why don’t you just take off the hat? Or take your hair down and tuck it inside your coat if you’re afraid the color might give you away? The hat might stay better that way.”

She huffed and thrust the map into his hands. “I’d rather it just function as it was supposed to,” she growled, but after a moment of fussing with it, just reached up and pulled several pins out of her hair instead, letting down the long blonde locks. Buccaneer blinked at her. If he thought it might make her look a little softer, he had been wrong. If anything, she looked more intimidating with her hair down.

“Alright,” she said as she settled the hat back onto her head. “Let’s go. I want to check that area out. If nothing else, we can get a watch on it. And get some men out here to dig.”

“Yes, General!” Gennis said, already turning to the radio.

“Buccaneer. You know these forest best?” It wasn’t a question.

“Of the ones here, yes, sir,” he replied.

“Then you lead the way, Captain.”

That was, again, not something that Buccaneer had expected. It made sense, sure, but a woman like her didn’t seem the type to let anyone else lead. Armstrong was just adding up to one big puzzle in his mind.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, as he took point, leading them through the forests the quickest way he knew how. As they traveled, Armstrong asked him questions about the forest, and what he knew of it. He answered them, and she seemed to take in everything he said. As they drew closer to their target, though, Buccaneer gestured for everyone to quiet down. The general looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I think there’s something up ahead,” he whispered, just low enough for her to hear. “Animals and birds aren’t around as much.”

She nodded, taking that into consideration and gestured for them to retreat a bit. “There might be something ahead,” she said. “We’ll split. Circle and see what’s there. No one act without orders or action from myself. We observe first, then act. Understood?”

There were saluted all around, and then she glanced at Buccaneer. It took him a moment to realize that she meant for him to pair the men off. He did so, quickly figuring out who would work well with each other. They all split, and Buccaneer lost sight of Armstrong as they moved.

He was, unfortunately, right, and as they drew closer to the edge of the riverbank, a group of Drachman soldiers stood there, unloading something. He couldn’t quite tell what it was, and he was far enough away that what little he could hear he couldn’t translate, not with his rusty skills. Still, he watched as they unloaded things from three thin boats, and moved them further up the hill, just past a slight area of rapids that the boats wouldn’t have been able to navigate even if they weren’t going against the current and slightly uphill. He was just about to gesture to the Warrant Officer he was with to move in slightly when there was a crack that caught everyone’s attention, and Private Shaw came sliding out of the tree line from the opposite side and towards the Drachman soldiers.

Immediately, the Drachman soldiers raised their guns, and just as immediately General Armstrong was bursting out of the forest herself. Buccaneer took that as permission enough, and he came up out of the tree line as well, the warrant officer close behind him. He roared, frightening the Drachman soldier closest to him, one that was still retrieving an object out of the boat. Buccaneer grabbed him and tossed him into the river, its frigid waters sweeping him away. He kept his focus on Shaw, though. They had to get him out of there!

He didn’t, it seemed, need to worry. With quick, fast steps, almost faster than Buccaneer thought possible, General Armstrong had made her way towards the Drachman soldiers, putting herself between them and Shaw. Her hand had pulled her sword so fast he barely saw the glimmer of it before she was cutting down one Drachman soldier. She had barely finished with him, before she was moving onto another, cutting him down with a powerful blow. She reached Shaw and hauled him up by one hand.

The poor kid looked scared to death, and she snapped something at him. Much to Buccaneer’s surprise, whatever she said seemed to bolster the kid, and he toughened up. But Buccaneer had his own problems, and so did the rest of the team. This was quickly devolving into a firefight, and one they had to be careful in, unless they wanted to hit their own men.

Buccaneer was just dispatching the men who came after him, when he heard shouts that sounded different from the troops further up the hill. There only appeared to be one Drachman soldier left alive, and he yelled something out that Buccaneer couldn’t translate and picked up one of the objects that they had been carrying up. The general, it seemed, understood exactly what the man was saying, and her eyes widened as she yelled for everyone to get out of there. Not wasting any time, the members of the small group did just that, the general included.

At least, until she saw Eartless on the ground. Buccaneer saw him too. He was bleeding from his thigh. Something must have gotten him there earlier. Both Armstrong and Buccaneer made their way towards him. Armstrong shoved him into Buccaneer’s arms, even as the last survivor of the Drachman party stood and yelled something out, hands poised to throw one of the things they had been unloading down at the group. In a flash, the General was gone, bounding back up the hill, her sword at the ready. Buccaneer got the wounded soldier down the hill to the others but turned back to watch this new general.

“Sir!” the warrant officer interrupted his thoughts. He had one of the objects and was examining it. “They’re bombs! Landmines!”

Buccaneer’s head jerked back towards Armstrong. In a flash, he knew. He knew that she knew, and that she was the best bet for stopping this madman from taking out her soldiers, and that she knew it and acted without hesitation. Her footwork bounded solidly, although, the soldier was quick as well. He moved, and it was almost as if General Armstrong didn’t see it. Her first strike missed him. She jerked her head, her hat falling off, her hair flowing down, and went for a second strike. The second on didn’t miss and the soldier went down, falling back into the pile of landmines. Armstrong turned to run, but it wasn’t quite fast enough. She was barely starting down the hill when the entire stack of landmines exploded behind her. It sent her tumbling down—and right into the icy waters of the river.

“General!”

Buccaneer yelled out for her, even as she hit the waters. It would only take a matter of seconds before she was swept too far down stream. He rushed to the bank. It was likely the rapids would funnel her this way. He just needed to—

There!

He spotted the blond locks and, without hesitation, plunged his arm into the icy river, making a grab for that hair. He felt his hand tangle around it, felt the tug of it stopping momentum, felt her hand come up to his, trying to relieve some of the pressure on her scalp.

He didn’t let go, just pulled on her by her hair enough that he could get a grip on something else, like her shoulder. He seized on something more solid than her hair the moment he could, and her head broke the surface, gasping and sputtering. He used both hands and pulled, pulling her out onto the bank of the river.

She was soaked, freezing, and violently shivering. She tried to say something, but she was far too cold to be able to do much more than gasp. Buccaneer stripped off his coat and wrapped it around the general.

“We’ve got to get her back to Doc now!” He said. “Shaw, Gennis, Bonoff, stay here, and get what’s left. Eartlesss, Nico, we’re going back to the fort. Nico, stick with Eartless. Gennis, call ahead and tell them what to expect!”

There were quickly snapped out “yes sir!”s all around, and then Buccaneer lifted the ice cold General up in his arms. Her wet hair was clinging to her, her pink lips were already turning blue, and there was something foggy in her eyes that she was clearly trying to fight.

There was no more time.

Buccaneer booked it back to the Fort the quickest he ever had, doing all he could to keep her warm. She kept trying to say things, as if she were trying to talk, but Buccaneer knew from experience that the waters this time of the year were mind-numbingly cold.

“I was wrong about you,” he said as they ran. “I wasn’t sure you were Briggs. But you risked your life for Shaw, Eartless, and the rest of us. You tried to stop that Drachman from throwing one of those landmines at us. You were willing to sacrifice it all for us.” He glanced at her. “That’s the Briggs way.”

She looked up at him from the folds of his coat—a coat that he could already feel turning wet—and for a brief moment, he met her eyes. There seemed to be understanding in them, even through her violent chills.

Buccaneer knew these forests and mountains like the back of his hand, and he knew them in every season too. He took the shortest route back to the fort, but even with that, and the added layers of Eartless and Nico’s coats, Armstrong’s skin was taking on a blue cast, her shivering had slowed, and her awareness seemed to be fading. Her hair stopped dripping water, but instead made small noises as the strands froze, along with the wet coats, and Buccaneer’s own arms.

As the fort came into view, Buccaneer could hear a lookout calling out, and then one of the lower doors was opened. He rushed through cleared hallways with the general in his arms, ice decorating both of them. He delivered her straight to Doc, who was on one of the lower and more interior areas of the fort. As soon as he laid her on the bed, Doc and a nurse were unwrapping the coat and starting on the general’s icy clothes.

“Go get yourself warmed up and dried off,” Doc ordered him, keeping her focus on the frozen woman under her hands.

“Will she be alright?” Buccaneer asked.

“Probably. I’ll let you know when I know. Now leave.”

Doc hadn’t slowed once while she was talking, even though she was getting to the lower layers of the general’s clothing. Buccaneer knew from experience that she wasn’t going to slow down or stop to protect the general’s privacy, not with her life on the line, and so Buccaneer left.

He told a lieutenant to find out the status of the teams out there, and report it to him, and then Buccaneer left for the showers. The best way to warm up was going to be to get out of his cold and damp clothes, get a warm shower, and then change into something dry. It didn’t take him long, and as soon as he was finished, he went back to stand outside of sickbay, taking the reports there and waiting to see what Doc’s word on the injured general and soldiers was.

It was a few hours before Doc came out and, seemingly unsurprised to find him there, gestured him in.

“Eartless is going to be fine,” she said, “He took a shot to the thigh. Too deep to be called a graze, but still not enough to bring too much concern. I’m putting him on light duties until I’m satisfied with its healing.”

“And General Armstrong?” Buccaneer asked.

“She’ll be fine as well. She definitely was hypothermic, but it’s nothing that can’t be reversed. We’ve already got her body temperature back up into a low but acceptable range. She’s also got some bruising and I’m worried about the possibility of a slight concussion because of how hard she hit that water. I’m going to have her here overnight, and then recommend rest and limited exposure to the cold for the next few days.” Doc glanced up at Buccaneer. “Eartless told me what she did.” Doc’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Sounds like she really put her all out there.”

“Yeah,” Buccaneer said, and he didn’t bother to hide the relief in his voice. “Can I--?”

Doc waved her hand at him. “Go. Just keep it quiet.”

Buccaneer nodded, and moved back to the curtained off area that the general was in. He pushed the curtain aside and looked at her. She was sleeping, covered in several heavy blankets, her hair spread out to dry, and a portable heater turned on her. Buccaneer watched for a moment, the pure-Amestrian, blonde haired beauty with a sword that they had been sent. For a moment, he just stared. And then, he turned, and stood at ease beside her bedside, keeping guard over his general. She was Briggs. She had proved that. And she had earned his loyalty.

[bcbdrums]

Forfeit

AU fanfic, post-Graduation Kim Possible.  Inspired wholely by this stunning artwork: https://gothicthundra.tumblr.com/post/188037118744/color-prompt-set-b-13-drakken-pyrrhic

I apologize in advance... Oh, um...let's call this a high teen rating for violence and death? Sorry again... 

---------

"For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?" Matthew 16:26a ESV

  Drakken's heart pounded in his chest as he ran, following almost absentmindedly after the flowing and tattered graduation gown that Kim Possible wore as his eyes darted back and forth across the corridor. On one side were windows to outer space, revealing its velvet blackness with the tiniest of lights peeking through that he knew were stars, only he couldn't recognize their positions. The other side of the corridor was an indestructible alloy, except by the aliens' own technology he had witnessed months prior.

He was trapped. And he was terrified.

The sound of depressurization and rockets grabbed his attention and he peered past Kim to where two figures were racing toward them on jet-packs.

"KP!" a familiar voice cried.

"Ron!" Kim answered. Drakken's thoughts continued to the logical but impossible conclusion as he looked beyond the blond-haired boy to the other figure racing toward them.

His chest felt aflame and a broad grin broke through his terror as he knew it was her. And when she saw him her typical mean, focused look was replaced by a smile that mirrored his own. Tears filled his eyes as he reached for her.

"Shego!" he cried in joy as she landed gracefully in front of him. Scarcely a moment later he embraced her around the shoulders while her arms wrapped around his middle and gripped him tightly. Relief and peace coursed through him as he pulled her smaller form snugly into his. "You came! I thought I was going to die up here!"

She didn't respond. Confused, Drakken opened his eyes which he hadn't realized were closed.

He gasped and staggered back. His arms were empty, and his only company in the alien corridor were the stars.

"Shego!?" he cried, turning around in a hurry. But all traces of her—and Kim and Ron—were gone.

A great dizziness swept him and he turned in horror as the walls began closing in around him. His vine—which he had forgotten about—slithered out from his collar and began weaving latticed barriers against the impending doom, but they were no match for the strength of the alien technology.

"No! No! Someone help meeeeee! Shegoooooo!"

---------

There was a strange electricity and pressure in the air as Drakken sped the hovercraft back to Middleton. 'Now I know how Santa Claus feels…' he thought as he wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. Thankfully the invasion hadn’t been quite as worldwide as originally feared, mostly only major cities having been targeted.

His plants were spreading and taking out the alien robots, and with that end accomplished he hurried back to the root of his operations. Suddenly a familiar voice shrieking in terror drew his gaze skyward. He saw a blazing trail like that of a meteorite ascending seconds before it impacted the Lorwardian spacecraft, destroying it in a massive explosion. He stared wide-eyed as the flaming wreckage rained down and he halted his vehicle for a moment as he wondered how on earth the destruction could have been accomplished. It certainly hadn’t been his plants.

Suddenly the air pressure around him normalized and his ears popped with the unexpected change. His skin tingled as the electricity begin to dissipate, and a tension he hadn’t known he was carrying left with the sensation and brought a heavy return to reality. He pushed forward on the accelerator of the hovercraft and headed back toward where he’d left the heart of the action.

When he arrived he found that the webs of his plants remained, flowers of pink, green, and blue giving a false sense of security and masking their savagery. In the center of the rubble below his eyes locked on the black-clad Kim Possible, her mussed hair blowing in the wind as she embraced her dorky space-suit clad boyfriend. Shego was nowhere to be seen, he realized, as he brought the craft down slowly.

“What happened?" he asked as he leapt down and cautiously lingered several yards from the teens, “What’d I miss?"

The two put a foot of space between them, but Kim’s arms remained around her boyfriend’s neck as he shyly brushed back his sweat-dampened hair.

“You kinda had to be here," Stoppable said, the pair of them grinning broadly.

“Where’s Shego?” Drakken asked, looking around the rubble. The last thing he wanted to think about was another Kim Possible victory. She’d have been nothing without his plants this time, surely.

Kim suddenly gasped and began running and leaping through the rubble. Drakken blinked and after a moment made to follow, hurrying to match pace with an equally confused Stoppable. No way would he be left out this time.

He lifted his eyes as he heard Kim skid to a stop and his heart leapt into his throat at what he saw: Shego, still wearing her space suit, lay face down and un-moving in the dirt, limbs splayed and hair wild around her.

“Shego!” he cried desperately as he dropped to his knees at her side. He reached to turn her over but Kim’s open palm in front of his face halted him.

“Wait,” she said, as her other hand felt his sidekick’s neck for a pulse.

A growl rumbled in his chest as he defiantly—but tenderly—pulled Shego to him and laid her head atop his folded knees.

“She’s my sidekick, I think I know what’s best.”

“Dude, even I know you don’t move a person when you don’t know what their injuries are.”

"Her heart's stopped," Kim's blunt interruption brought Drakken's focus back down. Kim was leaning over Shego's face now and had a hand pressed to her chest. "And she's not breathing."

Drakken was sure his own heart stopped for a moment as he stared down at his sidekick's closed eyes and still form. She was a dead weight—he cursed his brain for choosing that word—on his lap, her arms and legs limp and askew where he had dragged her. A paralyzing fear suddenly gripped his being and he found himself unable to speak.

"You're still CPR certified, right KP? I mean, all the babysitting..." Stoppable was saying. Drakken heard him as if from a distance, his blood thumping in his ears as he stared at Shego's face. It was the most serene he had ever seen her.

"There's probably still time," Kim answered, pushing up the sleeves of her graduation robe. "She'll have to be flat on the ground, Drakken. Drakken? Let go!"

Drakken blinked back to awareness and realized he was holding tight to one of Shego's shoulders and his other hand was fastened around her wrist. He knew Kim was right of course, and forced himself to release his protective hold and let the teen gently begin moving his sidekick down.

"Whoa man, are you hurt?" Stoppable asked. Drakken blinked at the sudden appearance of thick smears of blood on his thighs. His eyes widened again, and he went through the mental analysis so fast he didn't even need to give presence to any of the thoughts. His hand was already moving cautiously beneath Shego's head, where Kim's had moved too.

He bit the inside of his cheeks as his stomach churned at the feeling beneath his fingers. Through the thick hair where he should have felt hard bone, he felt the unnatural give of the skull as he pressed it notably against soft tissue.

Kim gasped as they both drew their hands back in time. He looked first at his own black glove, covered in the slick substance and then at Kim's hand, streaked red to her wrist. He followed her arm to her heaving chest and up to her terrified eyes. And again he found himself paralyzed, but with something deeper than fear that he couldn't put a name to. He made one feeble attempt at speech, but his closed throat prevented it.

"Wade," Kim said, talking into the device on her wrist. "I hate to ask you to do this, but I need a scan of Shego's skull and brain for injuries. I'm...afraid it's not going to be good."

"On it, Kim," the boy said as a beam came out of the wrist-device and passed over Shego's head.

Drakken saw Stoppable begin anxiously biting the nails of both hands—well, space gloves—as he stared at the bloody hand that Kim still had raised in the air.

"How is it?" Kim asked. "And...her heart's stopped and she's not breathing. Probably more than five minutes now," she finished dejectedly.

Drakken peered at the small screen on Kim's wristwatch as the boy's eyes grew wide and he pushed his chair back from his desk.

"Oh, man."

---------

Drakken fidgeted with the edges of his gloves as he sat tensely in the back of the recording studio, waiting.

"You should have changed," his mother whispered for the seventh time. He sighed.

"This is how I'm most comfortable, Mother," he repeated what he had told her after the fourth time. He glanced down at his blue coat draped over his knees. If he looked hard, he could still see the blood stains.

"They want to interview a hero, not a...mad scientist."

Drakken felt his mother's eyes on him, but kept his gaze forward on the green screen. Facing his mother with the truth of his occupation had been painful, and she clearly wasn't going to let it go any time soon.

"Oh, my poor Drewbie..."

Drakken clenched his teeth.

"So many months in jail... And what for? What did any of it get you?"

He understood her anger. He had lied for over twenty years, after all. But he didn't need her judgment. Not now.

Thankfully, he was spared another verbal lashing by the approach of one of the news team holding a shiny, gold medal with the emblem of the United Nations attached to a red, white, and blue ribbon.

"Dr. Drakken?" the man said. "They want you to wear this for the interview. It's going to air during prime time after the UN broadcast. You'll have to give it back so they can present it to you officially at the UN."

The medal was held out and Drakken hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking it. The gold was heavy in his hand, the etching on its face intricate.

"Sound man wants to mic you. Over here," the man gestured, and Drakken rose to follow absently, still staring at the medal. He had already been pardoned in exchange for the formula to his plant mutagen. And now he was going to be celebrated.

He set the medal around his neck and was surprised to feel...joy. The sensation was unexpected, after all the turmoil of the past several days. The imprisonment, days filled with endless questioning and bargaining, sleepless nights, facing his mother, the confrontation with Team Go...

And of course, Shego.

He blinked away the vision of green and lifted the medal instead to examine it again. It seemed to be real gold. He was...the hero of the world. And it wasn't to him now, but to others to make sure the public knew just who had prevented their destruction. And they were glad to do it! He would finally—

His thoughts were broken as a man slipped a small wire down his collar, right next to his flower-vine-thing and attached a small microphone to his lapel.

"We're going to...skip makeup, all right Sir?"

'He called me 'sir'...'

"Sir? If you'll sit over here?"

"Yes, of course," Drakken said, moving to the plush chair in front of the green screen that would face the interviewer—a man he recognized from one of the evening reporting programs—and settling back comfortably. The man escorting him had him shift several times until the angle was just so for each camera, and then he disappeared as the reporter took the chair across from him.

"It's nice to meet you Dr. Drakken," the man said, fairly staring at him.

Drakken winced slightly under the scrutiny. "Eh...your...name escapes me."

"Brian Barrett," the man said, planting his feet on the ground.

"Okay, we're rolling," a voice caught Drakken's attention and he turned to see a large camera lens pointed directly at him. He glanced around the area past the green screen and saw no less than six cameras, capturing all different angles. He self-consciously felt behind his neck for the flower...vine...whatever, and was relieved to find it tucked beneath his collar.

"A pleasure to meet you Dr. Drakken!" Barrett said, and Drakken turned back to see the man extending a hand and flashing a perfectly white smile. All traces of inappropriate staring were gone, replaced with cheer and interest.

So that's how it was. Well, game on.

Drakken shook the offered hand and returned the smile. "The pleasure is mine...Mr. Barrett," he said, remembering the name at the last moment.

"I speak for everyone here at WNEW when I say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Your sentient vines are nothing short of genius."

Drakken sat up a little taller with pride, despite himself. "Well..."

"And on a personal note, my sister and her kids were in Madison Square Gardens when the aliens attacked. If not for your intervention, I could have lost them."

Drakken deflated just as quickly as he'd puffed up, and he forced the grin to stay on his face. "Well..." he repeated more weakly, "it was...what had to be done."

Barrett sat back in his chair and lifting a notepad, gestured toward the main camera with it. "We've been asking viewers to call in for the past week with their questions for you, and we've made a list of all the most-asked. So..." he turned to address the camera, "now begins the dialogue between the world, and Dr. Drakken."

Drakken bit the inside of his cheek as tension began to seep into his body.

"And the most asked question," Barrett said, turning back with a smile, "which I'm sure is no surprise... Why are you blue?"

Drakken laughed. Too loudly, he realized, and forced himself to sit back and try to relax. Everything would be fine. "Funny story, actually. You see it was a Tuesday..."

As Drakken recounted the story, he felt more and more at ease. The reporter was genuinely listening and not interrupting. In his peripheral vision he could see his mother standing next to the main camera, watching. And though he knew she was still angry, he could tell she was smiling.

Hero-life would take getting used to, but it would be worth it.

"Fascinating," Barrett said, when Drakken finally finished. "And the second most-asked question from our viewers... Why did you become a villain?"

The brief peace Drakken had felt evaporated like a puff of smoke and he felt a weight begin a slow descent from his chest to his stomach.

"Ah...well, that's a...different story..." He swallowed nervously and bit his cheek harder to keep from frowning.

"The public wants to know who their hero is," Barrett encouraged with his perfect grin.

The cheer was no longer convincing, but Drakken felt trapped. "Well, it...started in college when my friends started making fun of me. Of course, I had been made fun of for most of my life..."

He relayed the tale in full, the journalist again letting him speak uninterrupted. When he recounted the weeks of bullying he faced after the original Bebes he felt anger beginning to take hold of him. He paused to take a deep breath and dug his fingers into the armrests of the chair. When he continued he spoke more slowly and clinically, forcing himself to remain detached. It certainly wouldn't do for the world to see their hero showing symptoms of villainy.

"I couldn't attend my classes anymore. I was a laughing-stock. Even the professors thought so. Somehow I decided the best way to prove myself and get revenge would be...through illicit means. And over time it went past revenge until...I decided to take over the world." He bit down hard on the desire to go on about his genius. A familiar voice was in his head telling him to keep it short and make sure to use real words.

He stared hard at Barrett to shut out the voice.

"I'm sure everyone out there can relate in some way," the journalist said. Drakken gripped the armrests harder. 'No,' he wanted to say, 'no you don't know what that kind of betrayal is like.' But instead he sat back and smiled. "Now the third most-asked question from our viewers gets a bit deeper into your villainy. How did you feel about killing people?"

Drakken was caught off-guard. The smiling facade fell instantly as he pulled back in surprise. "Wh-what...? No no, you're...mistaken. I didn't kill people," he said, waving his hands defensively. "I didn't kill anyone," he repeated, looking over to his mother. Her face was the strangest mix of anger and despair he had ever seen.

The journalist turned the page of his notebook and pulled out a stack of papers. "Your police record shows several charges for felony murder. People suffocating in...cheese? Several Florida residents dying from complications after being under the influence of your mind-control; multiple earthquake-related deaths when you tried to merge the continents... I could go on?"

Drakken was sweating now and kept glancing between Barrett, his mother, and the emergency exit sign in his peripheral vision.

"Of course, the one that the whole world is familiar with is when you engineered Bueno Nacho kids' meal toys to be killer robots. So many innocent people, dead for absolutely nothing," the journalist continued. "Simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Memories of all the schemes Barrett had mentioned were flashing through his head, but they were all suddenly replaced by a new image. One of blood-drenched black hair draped across his lap.

"So, Dr. Drakken?"

Drakken blinked away the image and stared at Barrett's face. "I'm sorry... Can you repeat the question?"

"How do you feel about the people you've killed?"

Drakken's heart pounded as more and more images that had been the source of his inability to sleep kept flashing before his eyes. He swallowed slowly, his throat dry as he looked through the mirage and at Barrett's face beyond. Ultimately, her death was his fault. He couldn't deny the reality he had created.

"I feel...pain," he said quietly.

Barrett looked at him calmly, studiously, straight into his eyes. The journalist finally sighed softly and his brows furrowed as he shook his head in an expression of...sympathy?

The contrast brought Drakken back to the present, and he leaned back heavily in the chair and carefully measured his breaths.

"Do you still have a desire to do evil things, and to harm people? That's the next question from our viewers."

Drakken glanced around, remembering where he was. He couldn't stop himself from fidgeting with his gloves as he responded, though.

"I never...really wanted to hurt people. I wanted..." He closed his eyes and brought his mind back to college again. "I wanted them to stop. Laughing. And to recognize the great genius that I am. Everywhere I went, people knew me for my failure. I just wanted the world to know me for my greatness."

He felt sick to his stomach now, recalling all of the more unpleasant aspects of doing evil that he simply turned a blind eye to. One couldn't be a villain without hurting others in some way. Unless you were legitimate like Jack Hench. But Drakken didn't have the time to build a legitimate empire.

"So you don't want to do evil anymore?"

Drakken shook his head. "No." But even as he said it, he felt the selfish desire wind its tendrils around his heart. He thought he meant it...did he not?

"And the last most-asked question from our viewers... Why did you decide to save the world?"

At that, Drakken returned to himself in an instant, straightening up in the chair and adopting the fake-nice look he had started the interview with. The truth was simply that he hadn't. He just needed to stop Warmonga from taking over the world, because...it was his world! Not some idiotic alien traveler's. He wasn't saving anyone, just his own interests. It was entirely selfish.

"Because..." he said with a pleasant smile, "the world is worth fighting for."

---------

He didn't have to act too surprised when they placed the medal on him officially; the cheers of the crowd were enough to make him giddy, and he smiled out at all of them with what he hoped looked like humility. Truthfully he was nervous that they would ask more difficult questions, but they didn't. All were forward-looking and hopeful.

Between interviews his mother had scolded his unpreparedness for the first one and gave him tips on how to reply to questions in later ones. Never one to scoff at his mother's advice, he used her words and answered things broadly and ambiguously.

What would he do now? Find a way to unite all of humanity under one common goal. How would he do it? By finding ways to stop planet-threatening problems. What was it like being a hero? He didn't consider himself a hero—he simply did what had to be done. Any of them would have done the same if they had his genius, right?

After the ceremony and lots of photos and a fancy dinner with the presidents of nine countries, he lay on the bed of his hotel suite grinning up at the ceiling. There were definite perks to being a 'hero' that he hadn't considered at first. Maybe he would milk this situation for awhile before going back to world-domination. In fact, it would probably work to his advantage.

"Drew," his mother said, half-knocking as she passed through his open door. "Have you thought any more about—?"

"I already told you Mother..." he sighed, "I'm not moving back home."

"But sweetie, you're going to need my help to get everything back to normal."

Drakken sat up in one swift move, a chaotic mix of emotions coursing through him.

Normal? Normal!? He didn't even know what normal was anymore. If the normal she meant was a lifetime of being teased despite all his best efforts to be 'normal,' then he didn't want it. If she meant moving on from villainy, he didn't know for sure that he wanted that—after all, what would 'moving on' mean? It had been a week and there had been no job offers. But there had been two days in prison which he only bribed himself out of by surrendering his mutagen. Not mention that he was now some sort of weird plant-human hybrid and had no idea how or if that could even be remedied. For all he knew, it would kill him in a matter of days.

No, whatever she thought was 'normal' certainly wasn't going to happen.

But neither was what he had considered normal for the past several years. As a 'hero' he certainly couldn't disappear into a secret lair and plot world domination again. He couldn't hide...anywhere. And what was the point of world domination when in fact, the world did seem to recognize his genius now? They would definitely hate him more if he conquered it after saving them all.

"No, Mother," he shook his head and fell back down on the bed. He grabbed the TV remote and pushed the power button, hoping for something to drown her out as well as his thoughts. "I'm...I'm grateful, but I need to handle things myself."

He had no idea what to do with his life now. The medal was still around his neck, the gold a weight on his chest as it rose and fell with breaths that were too quick. In an instant, a flash of yellow in his peripheral vision signaled the arrival of the petals that often framed his face now. He sighed and let them be. Mad scientist, decorated hero, and laughing-stock. That's what he was.

"Look Drewbie, you're on TV again."

He turned his head to see the small, hotel TV screen. His interest was piqued by the stern face of Brian Barrett, while his own picture was in the corner in double—one, a shot from the UN ceremony, and another an old mugshot.

He sat up and turned up the TV volume.

"Is he hero or villain? Your questions and the world's answered now, in this one-hour expose on Dr. Drakken."

"One hour...? That interview wasn't even thirty minutes..."

"It begins in a small town in New Jersey, at the childhood home of Drew Theodore P. Lipsky," Barrett continued in voice-over as a picture of his mother's house appeared on the screen.

"Hey!" he cried, lurching forward. None of the interviews he had had talked about his childhood in any way. He looked over at his mother, who looked equally perplexed.

She sat beside him on the bed and they watched and listened as an accurate but thinly detailed biography was painted of the blue man, all clearly leading up toward his turn to evil. There were quotes from old teachers and classmates, one from his first boss in high school, and then his college professors and former friends. None were kind.

"Drew was most certainly a genius," an old professor said, the program past its half-way point now. "He finished every assignment ahead of everyone else and seemed to understand all the material before I even finished teaching it. But he was strange and secretive... He would work on private projects in the university laboratories, stealing materials, and then deny it. And he was careful about it too, so we couldn't prove it. With some of the experiments we knew he was conducting, we're not sure where he safely hid the materials."

Drakken thought about his early weapon designs and the great lengths he had gone to to hide them. It had been no easy feat, either! He wished Barrett had asked him questions about his inventions. Those would have been fun to answer.

"The only things we found were after he dropped out of school. He left so quickly that he forgot a few things. There were these blueprints for a new type of engine that revolutionized fuel consumption..."

Drakken remembered suddenly the gift for his cousin Eddie that he had never finished and forgotten about, in his haste to leave MIST. Perhaps now it was finished he should—

"Hey! They stole my designs!"

He rose from the bed, fists balled in anger as he stared at the scans of blueprint after blueprint of technologies he had dreamed up in every field, for which he had failed to file patents. His chest heaved in anger as he listened to how his inventions were being used to better the world and he was receiving none of the credit for it.

"And we couldn't give any of the designs back since he disappeared. And after he turned up blue on our security cameras when he robbed the university a year later, we figured...might as well patent them ourselves," the professor finished.

"And so Drew Lipsky faded into infamy and Dr. Drakken, mad scientist was born. And now with an exclusive interview filmed after the ceremony at the UN, here is Brian Barrett with Dr. Drakken."

"But it was filmed hours before the ceremony..." Drakken protested, sitting back on the bed next to his mother. He watched as the camera swept over the false background of a UN office that had replaced the green screen.

"How do you feel about the people you've killed?"

"I didn't kill anyone." The camera angle switched off of Barrett's open, emotional face to the anxious one of Drakken.

"They did that thing where they show it out of order," his mother gasped in astonishment. "They're trying to make my heroic baby look bad! Well, they're going to hear from me!"

Drakken barely looked up as his mother stomped out of the room, presumably to the telephone. He watched slack-jawed as the interview continued to paint him as nothing short of psychotic, the camera zooming in on his twitching fingers gripping the chair each time a difficult question was asked, the clips having been edited to suit the intent of the expose.

"Could the mad scientist's statement be genuine, or is there another meaning behind it, leading us to believe that he may resume his world-dominating evil schemes? We go to the public now, for their comments."

The screen changed to daytime outside the UN and played a montage of brief comments from various citizens. He noticed a large majority holding protest signs against him. Why hadn't he been told there were protestors?

"Should Dr. Drakken be forgiven for his former crimes?"

"Absolutely not. My nephew was killed when those Diablo robots attacked. One good deed doesn't abolish a lifetime of sin."

"Heck, I'll forgive him. Who knows what those aliens would have done to us? At least with Dr. Drakken we just know we're getting a second-rate villain."

"Well, maybe a reduced sentence? I mean, I believe in justice. But he did save us from invading aliens. It's a tough one, morally."

Drakken sank down listening to the honest words of the people. He picked up his medal in his hand and stared at it. The people didn't love him after all. Did his victory mean anything?

"We have received authoritative word that Dr. Drakken has been pardoned of all his past crimes, in thanks for his world-saving heroics earlier this week. But will he now follow the path of the hero, or will he remain a villain?"

The scene changed back to Barrett's final interview question from that day, and Drakken started when the camera panned down and zoomed in on the faint bloodstains on his lab coat.

"The world is worth fighting for," he answered and the camera panned back up to his oddly blank face. Ominous music finished out the program as the credits rolled, showing a montage of destruction that his years of capers had caused.

Drakken was fuming. They had lied to him. All of them! They wanted nothing more than a good story to boost their ratings! They were all evil and self-serving!

...Exactly like him.

The realization hit him like a slap in the face, and clutching the medal around his neck he strode out of the room.

"...and I'll have you know, if you don't put out an immediate retraction then my son is going to sue you and your—Drew? Where are you going?"

He passed his mother on the phone without a word and left the hotel room, yanking the yellow petals from around his neck as he went. Minutes later he found himself in his hover car, lifting off and flying up as high as it would take him, far away from reality.

---------

A great dizziness swept him and he turned in horror as the walls began closing in around him. His vine—which he had forgotten about—slithered out from his collar and began weaving latticed barriers against the impending doom, but they were no match for the strength of the alien technology.

"No! No! Someone help meeeeee! Shegoooooo!"

The vines were ineffective. He turned wildly, looking for any chance of escape as the scrape of metal and the approaching tangle of his vines heralded his certain death.

"Help! Someone help!" he cried as the vines began pressing against him. He held out his arms and pressed with all his might against the metal through the vines, but still the walls kept coming.

"Noooooooo! Please, someone help me!"

Suddenly a heat and a flash of green fire surrounded him, scorching away all of his vines but leaving him untouched. He saw clearly now the gray walls that would kill him and an inhuman wail came out of his throat as they began touching him on all sides.

'I'm going to die. I'm dying,' he thought as the pressure built and began forcing his bones to move into unnatural positions. 'How did this happen?'

The just as suddenly as the threat had come, it vanished. He blinked and turned around in shock, finding himself on a high platform—or stone?��rising out of dark clouds. The only sight in every direction were the stars and he gasped in wonder. What had happened?

"Sorry, Dr. D."

He whirled around. "Shego!?" She stood about twenty feet from him, hands uncharacteristically folded in front of her and a small, but peaceful smirk on her face. So Shego had saved him after all...

"You were there! And then you weren't!" he cried, rushing toward her as he had moments before on the ship.

"Didn't mean to leave. Wasn't exactly my choice."

Drakken slowed his run as he realized he wasn't getting any closer to her, even though clouds were passing on his left and right.

"Shego?"

The dark clouds began moving around her, swirling upward like one of the atmospheric science experiments he had performed in college. Her smile faded as she lifted one hand in a motionless wave moments before the clouds enveloped her entirely.

"Shego!" he cried, reaching desperately toward her, finally making some ground. But when his hand touched the mist it evaporated and she was gone.

"Come back! Shegooooooo!"

Drakken jerked awake from the nightmare in shock, looking around him in panic. His heart rate began to slow when he realized he was on a familiar cliff, laying in a familiar field of flowers.

The nightmare wouldn't leave him alone. He'd been having it since the first night after the invasion, and every night since. It always happened exactly the same way. He had long given up trying to understand it, and now only wished it would go away so he could get some sleep. But just as when he had been hatching evil plots, sleep eluded him now in his new life as a hero.

For 'hero' the public had decided he was. Days after the news expose and his disappearance—rather, hopscotching from lair to lair trying to decide what to do—new protests had begun and a huge public campaign to wipe his record clean had gone forward. By the end of the second week after the invasion, the overwhelming opinion was that Dr. Drakken was the world's hero, and that any past sin could be forgiven.

He had gone back during the third week to try out this new life, and during the fourth week found himself firmly established at one of Japan's most up-and-coming robotics research facilities. He was now designing technologies to help combat any future alien invasions and anything else that might threaten the Earth, which was now working towards a united global government.

He received constant praise from peers and now attended interviews in which he heard nothing but thanks and even apologies from past nemeses. Even MIST apologized for stealing his inventions.

Drakken had everything. Well, almost everything.

Conspicuously absent in every interview and news article was any mention of a certain former hero-turned-villain, in favor of the new villain-turned-hero. Until the day he went back to Middleton to receive an honorary doctorate at MIST. Of course, the local news wanted an interview about the hero they considered 'one of their own' due to his association with a certain red-haired teenager. But the doctorate was the last thing on his mind when he left Middleton that day.

"Now Dr. Drakken," Tricia Lebowski said, holding the microphone beneath her chin as they stood outside the big sign in front of MIST, "she's been hardly mentioned by any of the networks, but Middleton will never forget your sidekick, Shego. We haven't been able to find any details, but we understand she was killed in the Lorwardian attack?"

Drakken suddenly found his throat dry as a microphone was shoved under his nose. "I...I, ah...would rather not talk about Shego, actually."

A weight suddenly fell into the pit of his stomach. It was the first time he had said her name since...

"I do apologize for your loss. The public wants to know, how instrumental was the former Team Go hero to your success as a villain?"

Drakken swallowed painfully as sweat began breaking out on his forehead. "She was everything, I... I said I don't want to talk about her," he squeaked out.

"I do apologize," Lebowski repeated. "The public also wants to know...was she more than a sidekick to you?"

Heart-racing, Drakken turned on his heel and ran to the hovercraft, his medal bouncing painfully against his chest. He was sure the news cameras were following his cowardly retreat, but... He couldn't talk about her. He just couldn't.

Hours later found him collapsed on a flower-covered hillside asleep in a puddle of his own tears. And now the sun was setting as he woke from the nightmare that seemed would plague him forever.

He sat up and stared past the edge of the cliff at the blinding reflection of the sun glistening on the sea. It was an appropriate spot, he had decided, much to her brothers' dissatisfaction. But as the world's hero he had some sway in the matter.

He crossed his legs and brought his eyes down to the headstone. All that was inscribed on it was her name, date of birth, and date of death.

He stared down at the carved name even as more of his flowers curled around the stone. He wondered what she would say about his life now.

He had a great job...that he performed during the day, and then went home to an empty penthouse apartment every night. He was lauded worldwide...but no one ever wanted more conversation out of him than TV and magazine interviews.

He had two Nobel Prizes for things he had invented back at MIST that were now recognized as his. HOURS Magazine called him the 'greatest genius of modern history.' And his world-saving medal from the UN hung around his neck daily to remind him that he finally had everything he had ever wanted.

A hand reached up to grip the medal as he thought about the sleepless nights at his penthouse. His only companion in that place were his nightmares.

It had taken only a week for him to realize he was lonely. So after awhile he'd bucked up the courage to invite one of his colleagues in Japan if he wanted to get drinks after work one night. The other scientist had made a polite apology and excuse, but it was clear to Drakken from the look in the man's eyes that there would be absolutely no socializing outside work with the blue freak.

He gripped his medal more tightly. 'I have everything...' He'd been telling himself that on repeat for more days than he could count now. But time was doing absolutely nothing to make him believe it.

It had been six weeks since...well, since the invasion. That's what everyone else called it. In his mind, he didn't identify the event that way.

He gently set his other hand on the gravestone and ran his gloved fingers over the carved name.

"Are you happy...wherever you are?" he whispered. "Are you...are you anywhere?"

The sea before him still shimmered with the light of the setting sun, but above him dark clouds were gathered. A soft roll of thunder was his only warning before the warm rain began to fall. It wasn't long before his tears joined the raindrops running down his face.

"I miss you," he choked out between sobs. When had he started sobbing?

He stood from his crouch in front of the grave and stepped to the edge of the cliff, looking down as the raindrops dampened the beach below.

It was time to stop lying to himself. The world...hadn't been worth fighting for after all.

He took out his state-of-the-art Blackberry and sent a short email, and then set the device back in his coat pocket. Then he took a small vial out of the same pocket and tucked it into his pants pocket, patting it gently. Next he took off his blue lab coat—something he had refused to part with—folded it, and lay it at the foot of her grave. He let his eyes linger for a moment on where the bloodstains were still visible if he looked closely enough. He never did have it properly cleaned.

Last, he took off the medal and set it atop the grave.

When he turned he glanced at the hovercraft for a moment before turning to take the narrow pathway down the cliff side. It was precarious, and he nearly lost his balance a few times, especially after the rain and wind picked up. But finally he made it down to the beach and purposefully approached the waters.

He shielded his eyes against the sun as he stared out on the sea. It had darkened where the storm clouds hung over it now, but beyond it still glistened in the light of the setting sun. Light was hope, and promise. But when the sun finished its descent the light would vanish, giving victory to the clouds. Light was just a facade, anyway.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward into the surf. The waters were surprisingly cold, for the Caribbean. He grit his teeth and forced himself to ignore it as he stepped further and further out into the sea. The rain had plastered his hair to his face and he swept it out of his eyes to stare at the roll of the waves as he went deeper and deeper.

When he was nearly up to his neck and the saltwater began splashing into his mouth, his vines made their appearance. In a display more magnificent than anything they had done yet, they weaved a lattice raft and lifted him up out of the waters, forcing him to float on the rocky seas.

He had expected this.

He took the small vial out of his pants pocket and uncorked it. He carefully poured the thick, glowing green liquid out onto the vines. Instantly they burst into a green flame resistant to the waters and the lattice began burning away beneath him. He grit his teeth when the fire traveled up against his neck and seconds later he let out a scream. The pain caused him to see white, such to the point that he didn't notice when the vines had finally burned away and he fell back into the waters again.

The shock caused him to take a large gulp of sea water into his lungs and he began desperately flailing and gasping for air, acting on instinct rather than intent. But as his situation set in he forced himself to stop his vain paddling even as he continued to choke. His head broke the surface of the waters and he gasped for air and blinked vainly into the rain and slaps of salt water against his face.

He caught a glimpse of green fire burning the remnants of his vines and felt a final swell of satisfaction. He knew concentrating Shego's power would be good for something someday.

It seemed she had saved him one last time.

His lungs, full of water were failing to draw in any oxygen. His vision went black as he gasped for air again, flailing against his will as he sank beneath the surface into the depths. Heat, pain, and pressure came against him on all sides, like the walls of the Lorwardian spaceship in his nightmares.

'I'm going to die. I'm dying,' he thought, just like in his nightmare.

'Are you happy? Are you anywhere?' he called out with the last thread of hope in his heart.

The void he had willingly entered only expanded and became silent. There were no stars this time as the walls finally closed in. He seemed to have forgotten how to move his arms to try to get out. Did he have arms anymore? He couldn't feel them. He couldn't even feel the green fire at his neck anymore as he sank deeper...and deeper...and deeper...

'I miss you so much...'

Deeper...into the dark...

'Shego...'

 ------ fin.

[weeping-petals]

A Lasting Song

Word Count - 3,503

The Great Gem War comes to a final and brutal conclusion.

They were Winning.

 They had to be.

 The battle had endured for over a month at this point, Quartz and Topaz soldiers spilling out of Home World to aid the grand take over that the Diamond Authority had planned. A final Gambit to squelch the rebellious faction, and drag the Earth back under Diamond Rule. Diamond Genocide. If they did not win this game, it was all over.

Spinel tracked every Gem that was poofed, and with a small volley of units gathered up comrades before the unthinkable could happen. Pink Diamond, or just Rose Quartz now, had a firm policy against shattering foe Gems. After all, they didn’t understand what was happening, that the rebellion was a façade to relinquish destruction of a world their Diamond fell in love with. To a fault Spinel agreed, and Pearl as well – with unrestrained devotion – understood more than their comrades would, of their kind and benevolent commander. The rage and onslaught of foe Gems was understandable, though the retaliation with such an aggressive backing came as a bit of... surprise. Rose Quartz was certain. She was always so certain about these things.

 So, Spinel assured that each confirmed enemy stone was bubbled, and sent back to camp. They would sort out who was who later, soldiers fell right and left. The foe Gems were in such a frenzy that they shattered first, didn’t question later – she had seen more shards produced from Jasper’s allied to the same faction than she was comfortable with.

 Which was why it was important to secure Gems before the irreversible was done!

 Spinel herself was poofed four or five times, but thankfully her cut was so specific that she was easily recognized by friendlies and sent off field to recover. It became more than a process of reforming and catching a Bismuth for a new weapon, Gems needed time to reconnect with their fresh form. Adjust to the violence and cycle of poof and fight. Most of the Crystal Gems were not warriors by class, but common builders, Smithers, assistants, and some like herself, entertainers. They learned to fight, to use abilities and inherit strength, and dug deep down within the light of their Gem to tap into forbidden powers. Forbidden by Home World and class restrictions.

 The dust and conflict steadily shifted across the field, they were forcing units into a preferred destination. Some even about faced and retreated, the enemy’s barrage began to thin out and more pure Gem fusions crumbled. Spinel kept busy, coordinating with Gems better suited with agility, speed, and courier as opposed to brute force.

 But something… felt off.

 “Where is Rose Quartz!” she snapped, at any Gem carrying a star that streaked by on the field, covering distance rather than defending fellow friendlies. She was given a variety of snarky responses.

 “Over there!” “Are you kidding?” “See the blitz!” “You can’t miss her!”

 And it was true. How could she miss the cloud, the ravaged landscape, the direction that every other foe soldier moved in when they caught an inch on the combatants.

 She had to check in with Pearl, insure that she was still intact. There was one Gem in all the battle, she knew with absolute certainty, who could not be poofed. Or more accurately, who should never be poofed.

 They would lose the game.

 A quad-fuzed Topaz snared a Crystal Gem fusion and wrestled the muilti-limbed warrior, the formers focus outmatching the combined attributes of a new Crystal Gem. Spinel averted her course, her weapon twirling ‘round and around her body while she built up momentum. One arm lashed out, catching a large axe buried in the soil, her arm wrenched and tightened while her fingers dug into the metal. She circled around the side of the titans brawl, tracking movement and thinking up a good one-liner.

 The Cystal Gem fusion went airborne and the Topaz drew back, winding up for a devastating punch.

 “HEY!” Spinel stopped and dug her heels into the soil. The Topaz snapped her head around, and smirked upon spying her. “Why don’t pick on someone YOUR OWN SIZE!”

 She retracted her heels and let herself launch. Utterly flabbergasted, the Topaz spun around and put out her arms – that expression changed when Spinel barrel-rolled her body, her duel bladed staff cycling around her arrow-esque shape faster and faster, until she was a blazing drill. The real plot twist came when her zipping shape shot between the Topaz’s feet, Spinel skid across the hard soil tearing up smoke. It was a cool pose nonetheless, and the Topaz looked around, searching for the miniscule adversary.

 “Syke!” Spinel indicated upward with her free arm.

 The Topaz glanced up, in time to receive the full impact of the Crystal Gem fusion that plummeted earthward.

 “I wasn’t the right size! See?” She stuck her thumb to her nose and wriggled her fingers, in the direction of the popped and divided Topaz soldiers. The Crystal Gem poofed each one, and dropped into her respective pieces.

 One of the friendly Gems poofed, without provocation. “Jade!” The Carnelian barked, and grabbed up the green stone.

 Spinel was primed to shoot off, but this trio looked far from warrior class. They all were in the same ship on the matter, but the group appeared less experienced and shook by coming undone in the midst of chaos.

 “You guys better get off field. This isn’t your time to contribute to the fight, it’s your time to survive.” The Nephrite looked offended. “Look, your friend is overwhelmed. We all are, in fact. You need to take care of her, because today, I’ve seen a lot of shards.” She spun away and began a sprint, weapon slung over her shoulders. Quietly, under her breath, she added, “And I’ll probably see a lot more.”

 Rose was still in the fray, somewhere. Spinel had a vague sense of where but finding the axis was the key. Was Rose at all able to abandon the battle for recuperation? Not poof and reform, but to take time out of the constant blade clashing and shield bashing. The units took turns, everyone played a part. Fusions formed and fell within hours, pure Gem fusions couldn’t grasp the concept of multilingual conversations manifesting and shrieking amid the dust. Passion for the new overcame the droned on same-old-same-old routine of pure fusions with sharp focus.

 She can’t poof. She can’t poof.

 Did she mean herself, Spinel? Or Rose Quartz?

 “Hey you!” she bounded down a clutch of rocks, racing toward a lumbering Crystal Gem fusion she couldn’t recognize. It’s shape made no sense, but she looked sentient, and clever enough. “Launch me!”

 The fusion put out a hand and Spinel plopped herself on the palm, the moment her weight settled she was flying into the stratosphere! She swept the dual blade above her head and swung it, twirled it like a blade of light on a spool of thread. Below, the shape and movement of battle took on refined focus, though it was apparent she was miles off course. Flashes of pink and brilliant sparks glint through the thick haze, the contrasting wisps unmistakable. Ah-ha!

 “Now to – ” Something collided with her backside, and before she could check herself the weight dragged them down. She squealed, nearly loosing her weapon in the process. Above her arms a Morning Glory shot through the airspace and careened out of sight.

 “You’re like a star in the dark sky! What were you thinking?” a familiar voice spat. Now Spinel recognized the arms laced around her middle.

 “Not much, to be honest. I’m a little on a one-track mind, if you catch my drift.” They were too high up to land safely, she decided, and wound up her legs like springs to compress the fall. Garnet released her and darted away, immediately meeting fists with a Quartz soldier.

 The Quartz wasn’t alone, three large Amethyst came barreling from a cloud of dust.

 “Ooh, you brought friends,” Spinel cracked. She swung her blade, doing some flashy maneuvers before whipping around to meet the line-backing head on.

 Poof. Poof. Poof. And POOF! Four Gems clinked to the ground. Spinel was still poised, or frozen, while Garnet dusted her gauntlets.

 “Ah… need any help?”

 “Bubbling them would be a good start. Spinel, I can’t help but notice you seem a bit distracted.”

 “Distracted? Me!” She hurried to bubble the Gems. “Pfft, we’re in the middle of an ongoing and endless battle. How can someone be distracted? I can’t see the soldiers past the dust.” To emphasize, she coughed.

 “Something on your mind?” Garnet crossed her arms.

 Don’t let Saphire trace your design. Don’t let Garnet see the pathways.

 “I’m worried,” she admitted.

 “I know.”

 “You do.” She kicked the blunt side of her blade and flipped it over her shoulder. “Home World Gems look a lot perplexed and a lot more lost. Like, I don’t know. They have a goal, but no one’s given them a word on how to achieve it.”

 “As if…” Spinel hung onto Garnet’s next words, “commanders ceased relaying orders?” She whipped around, absolutely clobbering a tri-Topaz fusion. The dismayed individual Gems took mild hits, Poofed out, and bubbled out of the field. Garnet didn’t turn back, but tracked another dropship that slipped across the far fringe of the strafe.

 “You put into words the feeling.” She chuckled, but the sound was void of mirth. “Yeah, we should probably check in with Rose.”

 Garnet moved, and Spinel hastened to match the pace. The fuzion had a direct and simplistic method to her strategy in conflict and battle, she concluded confrontations as quick and efficiently as possible. A perfect mesh of Saphire’s calculations and Ruby’s combat prowess. If one watched from afar not knowing who Garnet was, a short-sighted evaluation might view the method as single-minded brutality. But no, it was fluid motion, and it always impressed Spinel how precise the fusion was.

 On Home World, Garnet had garnered a reputation. A blasphemous fuzion and blatant insult to the court of Blue Diamond. Other foe Gems that recognized her were drawn in, eager for bragging rights of separating the first mix fusion. It would give Home World Gems no greater joy than to see the insolent Ruby and Saphire separated, permanently.

 Having to confront more and more Gems in the heart of battle was such a kill joy, too.

 Another dropship careened down from the atmosphere, appearing from a blip in the blackhole that preceded its sudden appearance. However, rather dump out a buttload of generic Gems, it landed. All the Home World ships that managed to evade ground fire would land, and load up with a bulk of fighters prepared – willing – to withdraw. A tactical retreat?

 Spinel spent some of her energy to propel herself high enough to get a good look, but only a glimpse before she descended – and sliced out the Jasper’s that went fist to fist with Garnet.

 “I don’t like this,” Spinel voiced. “I like this even less than when they’re bombarding us with weapons.”

 Garnet was about to reply, but swung around knocking down a duel Ruby fusion. The soldiers were losing numbers and retreating. But it seemed too good to be true.

 “I can’t see— Where did you see Rose Quartz?”

 Spinel pointed her staff and watched Garnet take off. At first she didn’t follow, a few foe Gems galloped by hunting for the one that took out their friends. Spinel helped. A little. She bubbled the two Ruby’s.

 “Take a rest,” she murmured, lost in thought. “When this is all over, maybe, just maybe, we’ll all be friends.”

 She tore off in the direction she sent Garnet, hastily bubbling the Gems she tangled with, getting sloppy with her tactics. Once or twice, foe Gems tore past her as if afraid of something. Not Garnet, but it amused her that Gems twice the fusions size were spooked off after seeing a duel-fused Jasper pop.

 Something was wrong.

 Spinel stalled and turned her face skyward, peering through the clogged air unable to make heads or tales if it was dawn or dusk. The days meshed together, the fighting was never ending. And something was amiss.

 “Argh!” That yelp sounded familiar, followed by the clash of weapons. It was Pearl, which meant—

 “Rose!”

 Where was she? “Where is she?” Spinel hollered. And where exactly was Pearl? She spun in place, searching, dashing in short sprints. This was the axis of the spinning wheel, the eye of the storm.

 The unmistakable clang of a weapon hitting the resonating point of an impenetrable shield was an incriminating factor. Its sound carried, rebounding back through the clatter and barks of combat. A large helmet went whizzing by, nearly colliding with the small Gem.

 “Rose!” Spinel called. The noises were moving around. As she searched the smog, she spied Pearl at last! – their Pearl – on her knees, blocking another blow from an enemy Jade. Spinel swung her body around and shot out with a long kick, knocking the foe Gem backwards.

 Pearl looked battered and absolutely spent to her limits, but held her ground. She glanced over her shoulder, an expression Spinel couldn’t read in her eyes.

 “Do you hear that?” she whispered. “Do you?”

 Confused, Spinel squinted her eyes. She heard nothing, aside from the shouts of fellow and foe Gems meeting weapon to weapon. She did feel something was… missing, some creeping uncertainty coiling inside the core of her Gem. A resonation. An oncoming storm.

 It was bright. The dust thinned out, or was it an intense ray of heat breaking through the atmosphere? She chanced another gaze upward, despite an imposing foe Gem bulldozing from the choked vapor.

 No. Oh no. No-no-no. No, it couldn’t—

 “Spinel!” Garnet dove from somewhere and tackled her, rolling aside as the foe Gem plowed into the soil where she stood mere moments before. “Where is she?!”

 A shadow swept in from the side and caught Garnet by the shoulder, it swung around holding the fusion close.

 “Pearl!” Spinel wailed. Wordlessly, Garnet aimed an arm into the murk. There was Pearl, on her back and blocking the sword that descended for her forehead. Spinel dropped her weapons and zipped her arms out, catching Pearl by the plush of her shoulders and reeled her in with enough force it nearly knocked Rose down.

 Everything was so bright, so intense. Cutting through the stark haze without contest, with absolutely no mercy.

 “Stay DOWN! EVERYONE!”

 There was only four of them, Spinel reflected. Garnet tightened her arms around her and Pearl, and Spinel coiled her body tighter around Pearl. Looking back around Garnet’s side, she beheld Rose Quartz summoning her shield and brace it to the ground, their commander pressed herself into the concaved center. In the same instant, a radiating blaze shredded the clouds, obliterating the fog clinging tight across the brutalized landscape. It was unlike anything Spinel had ever witnessed, capable of blinding and painful to view directly. The shield hummed a strange melody of agony, as the song from the sky thrummed from beyond the charted galaxy of Pink Diamond’s doomed colony.

 Rose hissed through her teeth, pressing back into Garnet. Garnet could do no better than to push back, and keep their leader from toppling as the shield pressed and buckled under the intensity. It would crack, Spinel was certain. It would crumble and they would all vaporize into stardust.

 She poofed and all was silent. Dark. And the world was Gone.

 What felt like ages later, she managed to reform. It wasn’t easy, but she succeeded in straightening out into a shape, and draw in something worth solidifying into. She slammed hands and knees into the dirt, a scream belting from her core. The landscape stretched as far as the eye could perceive, and was barren, void of sound and movement. Colors across the horizon slated in dreary reds and blacks, and weapons lay trapped in the soil where they fell. Abandoned and lost.

 She dragged a hand to her chest and sat back, wincing with each movement. Tears dripped from her eyes. Why was she crying?

 “I thought you were too.”

 She looked to the one that spoke, Pearl, curled up beside a rock with her face in her hands. “They’re all gone,” she whispered.

 “Who?” Spinel croaked. Though it was obvious. “What happened?”

 Pearl shook her head and sat up straight. “Retaliation. We felt it. Rose… er, Rose. Felt it, I mean.” She hugged herself and shuddered.

 “My Gem. It feels weird. Hurts.” Hurt was a human made term. Gems couldn’t get hurt, not really, only the Gem stone could be cracked. Humans learned the Gems language, but made new terms to describe new sensations. The best way she could describe the unsettling tingling was hurt. It buzzed and didn’t feel right at all.

 “I know. We all feel it. We were safe though.” There was such emptiness in her tone.

 Spinel jumped to her feet. “Rose! Garnet! Carnelian! The others! Where are—” She gaped at Pearl. “No!”

 “Rose and Garnet are fine. The others, though... the others.” Her tone became soft, almost inaudible. “All gone. They’re all gone.” Pearl pressed a hand to her forehead and at last, began crying. “I thought, you too. Not Spinel, please my stars. Not her too.”

 “NO! It…. That’s not fair! It’s impossible! IMPOSSIBLE! They can’t all be…. Not. Them….” She glared at Pearl, as her co-conspirator stood and walked over. Pearl looped her arms around her shoulders and tugged Spinel in close. Spinel accepted the embrace, and set her head against Pearl’s chest. “They can’t be,” she murmured. “Not everyone…. Our friends. It’s not fair. We were winning. We should have won.”

 “It was Retaliation from the Diamonds,” Pearl hummed.

 “What have we done?” She brought her arms up.

 And shoved Pearl away. Hard. “Just WHAT have we DONE? WHAT was the point! We have nothing now! NOTHING! We’ve LOST the GAME! It was rigged against us!”

 Pearl gawked, wide-eyed. “It was never a game, Spinel.”

 “I KNOW!” She grabbed at her pigtails, her words cracked. “But how was I supposed to get through every minute of every single day, if I didn’t have some way to keep grounded? HOW! And now we’ve lost! We lost EVERYTHING! And for WHAT!?” She buckled to her knees, body falling into a ropey mess. She hiccupped and sobbed, like the broken toy she was.

 “What was the point of fighting so hard, if this was all we were gonna get? What… why did I have to fight? I wanna go home. I just… wanna go home.”

 After a few minutes, Pearl inched in closer. Spinel was still bawling, quivering, and wouldn’t look up. Pearl knelt low and, tentatively, set a hand on the Spinel’s head. “We still have each other.” Spinel flinched, and Pearl hesitated. “We have each other. And… Rose and Garnet are searching for survivors. Maybe in the caves, or the underground.”

 “That’s stupid.”

 “They need to check, nonetheless. Garnet… she doesn’t see if we find anyone, but we have to explore the scenarios. Maybe someone found the best hiding place.”

 “I could find them,” she muttered, but it was bitter. She dragged her head up and checked their surroundings once more. “How long?”

 Pearl pursed her lips. “Two. Weeks. Nearly thr—” Her arms snapped up when Spinel dropped onto her lap.

 “I want to go home.”

 “I think Home World believes we’re gone. Completely.”

 “No,” Spinel sighed. She observed the strange patterns in the sky, as the atmosphere stitched molecules back together. “I want to go back to my Garden, with 𝐻𝑒𝓇. I want to play real games. Not this stupid war business. This was so stupid. We’re so dumb. Stars, I’m such an idiot.”

 “You’re not an idiot. None of us could have predicted this. Even Garnet— ”

 “Yeah, sure,” Spinel hissed. She rolled over and coiled her limbs under her body, struggling to push off the ground.

 “You need more rest.” Pearl tried to pull her back down, but Spinel brushed her off.

 “I’ve done enough rest. I need to be someplace less destroyed.” She scrubbed at her eyes and cheeks, but the tears still came. There was nothing to be seen across the horizon, but the derelict and orphaned weapons of once proud rebels, intermixed with armament of terrible foes avenging a fallen Leader. “What do we do now? What’s the point?”

 “We start by looking for survivors. Catalog the damage done.”

 “How exciting.” She was better off in her Gem. “If the rest of the planet is this level of destroyed, I’ll shoot myself into the nearest star.”

 Pearl straightened up from the ground and began walking, in no particular hurry, and Spinel followed without complaint or quip. She kept her eyes set on Pearl’s heels, ignoring all the half-buried Gem stones they passed across the wasteland. It was the longest walk back to the nearest base of operations, done in excruciating silence, but they had all the time in the world. They only had time, and each other.

[toastscraps]

Daystar

              I blame @linkeduniverse  by @jojo56830 ; It made me get a tumblr (and discord) account and write a fanfiction for it. I don’t own the characters, (Nintendo created them, jojo perfected them, I just play with them.) Based on the discord writing prompt, “Hope, even in the worst of times.”

I was stupid and did the bonuses, too:

- 3k+ words (turned into 12k +)

- Link-centric with a Link you’re unfamiliar with (I’ve never played any of Wind’s games, and avoided his character on Smash because I didn’t like the design. I have done my research and now understand the error of my ways.)

- Prompt incorporated (near the end of the fic)

- Fight scenes incorporated (yes, but not very good ones)

Warnings: Blood, gore(mostly minor), angst, injuries, major character death(s)

Other Warnings: poor writing and pacing, characters may be OOC, author is not good at writing emotions

Summary: Wind wishes to prove himself- he makes a mistake and tries to fix it. It only gets worse from there.

I apologize ahead of time for this monster.

               They were in Time’s Hyrule, surrounded by Peahats and Stalchildren.  Time was not happy because Wild, Hyrule, and Warriors had been fooling around and had awakened the Peahats. To make matters worse, due to the Shadow’s interference, Stalchildren (which hadn’t been around for years) had risen again and had been enhanced to the point of only being affected by fire and bombs (which Wild had discovered by accident). At most they could use their swords to push them back and gain a little room to blow them up. It was very… loud and explosive. Twilight was the only exception to the rule, his strength cracking bone on impact as he pushed with his shield and kicked with his iron-toed boots. He would shoot a bomb arrow occasionally, but he mostly stuck to brute force tactics. The others had their own ways of dealing with their enemies. Time was on the other side of the fight, using Din’s fire to roast the Stalchildren around him.  Sky was taking down Peahats with precise movements, Four getting under the blades and stabbing upwards into the soft flesh without somehow getting decapitated. Hyrule had enflamed his sword with magic (or something) and was using it to take down enemies left and right. Legend was, of course, fighting with an efficiency that would be sure to make even the greatest veteran fighter jealous. He somehow knew exactly where his enemy was going to be, and was able to place bombs right where multiple Stalchildren were about to appear. Warriors was taking out waves of the skeletons just by swinging the fire staff.

               And here Wind was, rolling and ducking to get to a place where he could hit a plant with a sword to kill it. Sure, it had deadly blades, but he was a hero. He should be better than this. Wind had run out of bombs earlier, forgetting to pace himself, and was now relegated to fighting the Peahats, which weren’t the ones he was familiar with, which Four had discovered could be killed by slicing at the roots multiple times. They never rested or went back into the ground, and seemed strangely sentient. Wind ducked the sharp leaves, wishing he either had more bombs, or had more brute force. Either would be preferable to this dodging and moving to get into a good position to target the roots.

               Wind was finally able to down his monster, and looked up to see Twilight knock the head off of one of the Stalchildren with a well-placed blow to its jaw with his shield. It walked around aimlessly, as if looking for its skull, before Twilight knocked it over with a kick to its shins and it retreated underground. The charred bones of the other skeletons disappeared into the ground with shadow rising up in a mist and blowing away on the wind. Soon all that was left were the vegetable remains of the Peahats.

               Time sighed and allowed Wild to harvest what he wanted, looking around in disapproval with his patented “dad” face. Wind couldn’t help but feel as if it were directed to him. Sure, he took out a lot of creatures, but not nearly as many as the others, and it had taken him a long while to figure out how to get around the defenses of his own enemy and stab at the core.

               “And you guys thought it would be a good idea to awaken the Peahats, why?” Time asked a guilty Wild and nonchalant Warriors. Hyrule was trying hard to look ashamed, but mostly Wind thought he looked pleased with himself.

               “Never mind,” Time held up a hand, closing his one eye, “I don’t want to know.”

               “What should we do now?” Twilight asked. Wind wiped sweat from his brow. He didn’t know how the others made it look so easy. Sky seemed tired, too, but he was the only one.

               “Maybe we can make camp?” Sky asked hopefully. “It’s night already, and there’s no sense in travelling in the dark.”

               “All those for staying the night?” Legend asked, holding up a hand as if he were taking a vote.

               “No,” Time said. “I don’t think that would be wise. At least not here. We need to get out of Hyrule Field; if Stalchildren are rising again, we’re going to be fighting them all night.” The entire group groaned. “I know we all want to rest, especially after such a big battle, but we need to prioritize our safety above all else.”

               Four recovered first. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He stalked over to where Time was already turning toward the Forest, which was only about an hour’s walk away. The others shuffled over, ready to leave as well. Wind, finally catching his breath, moved to catch up.

               “You holding in there okay, kid?” Warriors asked from beside him. Wind glanced over and huffed.

               “Yeah, I’m fine.”

               “It was a long fight,” Warriors reminded.

               “It’s okay. I’m good.”

               Warriors seemed to search him with his eyes, and then nodded. “Okay, but I’m gonna walk back here with you.” Quiet filled the night air as the earth cooled. The breeze felt good on Wind’s face, and he was glad that there was at least a little reprieve from their fighting. Time’s Hyrule had fresh air, a different kind from the great sea, and even a removed kind from New Hyrule’s. It was different, but good. Hyrule Field had once belonged to many farmers, Time had said, a long time ago, before most of Hyrule could remember, and before Time was born.  Then there had been a war. Then there had been burning and fear, and nations warring against nations, and Hyrule field was in the middle of it all. There men and women of various races fought and bled and died. It was a dark time, full of anger and terror. Fields of wheat that once grew and flourished under the sun were trampled and torn up and watered with sapient blood. Fences that had been raised under the care of farmers were torn through by heavily armored horses and knights. Homes were broken into and burned, and everything became tinder for the flames of conflict.

               Those who didn’t live behind the protective walls of cities and towns were the first to die.

               By the time the Hylian kingdom had won and united the country, the field had become a graveyard and a reminder of the sins of the land. But seasons passed, and vegetation grew; weeds flourishing in the baking sun and crisp-cool night. Shafts of grain, legacies of an ancient past, grew there too. At night the dead, long forgotten, were again remembered, and reenacted their ends in horrific mimicry. But the land was beginning to heal, and on the breeze came the scent of barley and wheat and the pollen of wildflowers flirting with the air. And somehow, even if it wasn’t his Hyrule, it felt like home.

               Wind released a breath and opened his eyes. It really was nice just to calm down, especially after a battle; even if he was practically worthless during it. “C’mon,” he told Warriors. “Let’s catch up with the others.” Warriors gave an amused huff and jogged with him until they were walking behind Twilight and Wild. Wild turned and grinned at them, and Twilight gave his hair a quick ruffle.

               There was a shift in the wind, and suddenly it didn’t smell like Time’s Hyrule. It smelled like a sunny day and salty droplets spraying from below. Time must have noticed as well as half the party, because they suddenly stopped. “Something’s about to–” Legend started. He didn’t have time to finish, because suddenly they were all standing on wooden boards, rocking to a perpetual motion. They all got sprayed with brine, and Sky nearly toppled over at one of the large waves.

               “Oi! What are you rats doing on my ship?” a rough voice called out. Lightning flashed, revealing a tall, thin-ish Hylian with dark bags under his eyes and a little lip fuzz. Wind recognized him immediately, and pushed himself in front of the rest of the group.

               “Hey Linebeck!” Wind cheered, gaining his attention.

               “Ki- Link! How fare you? How’d you get on my ship?” Lightning crashed and the ship tossed violently. Hyrule and Four were thrown off their feet. Warriors was visiting the side of the ship, and even Time was looking a little green. Sky was still trying to stay balanced.

               “It’s a long story. Mind if we take this down below?”

               “Sure- Hey, you! No vomiting on my ship! I mean it!”

               “Why are you up here in this storm? You’re not even at the wheel!”

               “What do you mean? I love untamed nature! The chaos! The grit it takes to be a man and to go toe to toe with the elements!”

               “…There’s a monster in the hold, isn’t there?”

               “I’ll go!” Wild offered quickly, and darted down the hatch. Even he was looking a little peaked.

               Wind sighed. “C’mon Linebeck. It’ll probably be dead by the time we get down there, anyway.”

               The rest of the Links began to follow, Warriors practically running.

               “Hey, you’re not going to empty your guts on my floor, are you?” Linebeck challenged.

               “There’s nothing left in there anyway,” Warriors muttered, ducking down below.

               “I’ll help up here,” Legend said. “Make sure we don’t crash into anything,” he said under his breath. He grabbed the wheel and held it firmly.

               “Don’t worry about crashing,” Linebeck called out. “There’s no land here for miles!”

               Legend frowned, and then returned it back to the way it was before. “Whatever; it’s your boat.”

               Soon they were all down below. Wild was gathering blue chuchu jelly into some jars, and Warriors was already looking relieved. Legend just looked nervous.

               “Ahh, this is much better,” Linebeck said. “So, now that we can hear one another, how did you get to this ship?”

               Wind explained why they were there, and who the other Links were. Time and Sky both spoke a bit, too, but Sky looked like he was about to sleep where he was sitting.

               “Hmm. I’m not sure I believe you, but you are all here anyway. Welcome to SS Linebeck! Don’t touch any of my stuff, and I’ll let you sleep next to the crates.”

               “How generous,” Legend said dryly. He shuddered at some invisible chill. “Are you sure you don’t want help in this storm?”

               Linebeck waved him off. “These storms don’t usually last long. Besides, the sails are down; there’s not much else I can do.”

               Wind was surprised Linebeck was allowing them to sleep down here at all, though, he reflected, it probably would have been in poor taste for him to start throwing the others overboard. “Good night, Linebeck!” he called.

               “Night, kid,” Linebeck replied and headed out of the hold to his cabin.

               “Well, that was interesting,” Hyrule said.

               “Let’s all get some sleep.” Time stood and began to unpack his bedroll. “We’re lucky we got teleported to an ally; let’s take advantage of the peace while we can.”

               Thunder crashed and boomed. The ship dipped back and forth like a child’s rocking horse. No one slept much that night.

               Morning came bright and early. Wind was already up on the deck looking out over the ocean. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and exhaled. This is what he’d missed most about his world; the freedom, the saline wind in his hair and the blue expanse of the sea. The sun had risen on a clear blue sky, and the visibility was amazing. Wind could see for miles.

               Then he noticed something out on the horizon. It looked like an island, but it seemed a lot larger. It cast a great shadow where the sea met the sky. Linebeck was standing at the bow, looking in the same direction. Wind ran up to him.

               “Do you see it?” the captain asked. “That, right there, is a new discovery! Think of the treasure one might find on an island like that! Why, who knows? Maybe we’ve discovered a new land! We could call it… Linebeckia! Or something. I’ll think about it.”

               The others trickled onto the deck throughout the morning, and by lunch they were almost at the shore. Linebeck didn’t have any means of cooking, and practically had a heart attack when Wild attempted to build a fire in the hold, so they had to either eat some of his jerky stores (which weren’t bad, Wind had practically consisted off of them for an entire pseudo-year) or wait ‘till they landed to have lunch.

               Sky was, as usual, the last one up, and by that time they were anchoring. The land was huge, larger than any island Wind had ever seen. Legend was eying it critically, and Wind thought he saw a good mixture of relief and something else when he found (or didn’t find) what he was looking for.

               They all got out and looked around. It seemed dead silent, not a soul or sign of habitation to be seen for miles around. “Not many landmarks around here for a treasure chest, are there?” Linebeck frowned. They found some driftwood drying in the sun and built a large fire there on the beach. Wild cooked up some fish they caught. Wind watched the flames while he ate, licking off his greasy fingers when he was done. He wished he could show the others his home; where Aryll and Grandma lived, and where the hibiscus bloomed on the beach in the light of the setting sun. But, he supposed, this was kind of nice, too. Seagulls cried well above them, coming close to the strangers that had food. Wild was trying to shoo them away from the cooking pot, which by now was cooling on the sand. Four was, uncharacteristically, lounging on the sand and soaking in the sun. Twilight and Sky had left to go scout the area in case there were enemies or settlements nearby. Linebeck wanted to go search for treasure, and Hyrule and Legend had offered to join, so they were out milling around somewhere, too.

               Wind wondered, suddenly, what it would be like for them if they left him behind. It was a strange thought, one he wasn’t used to contemplating. He was a hero, like the rest of them, and he knew it, but sometimes he just felt so…outclassed by all of them. He wanted to be more than just another one of them. He wanted to show them, to prove to them that he wasn’t the weakest of their group; that he wouldn’t hold them back.

               “Hey, kid, what’s wrong?” Warriors sat down next to Wind, having been in the middle of a conversation with Time moments prior.

               “Nothing. Why?”

               “You’ve been quieter than normal.” The young man picked up a stick from by the fire and used it to stir the dying coals back to life. “Did something happen last night that we don’t know about?” Suddenly he shot an appraising gaze up and down Wind’s body. “Did you get wounded?”

               “No,” Wind said quietly. “Just thinking.”

               “Well, that’s dangerous,” Warriors said, joking. He lifted his hand to ruffle Wind’s hair. “Don’t sit thinking too long, we like having you with us.” He dropped his hand from Wind’s head. “Do you need to talk about anything?”

               Wind shrugged. “I dunno. Nothing important, just thinking. Warriors, what do you think sets you apart from the others?”

               Warriors appeared momentarily surprised by this question, but recovered quickly. “Why, my devilishly handsome good looks, of course,” he smirked. “And I have more training and skill fighting multiple monsters at the same time, I suppose.” Wind nodded quietly.

               “And what do you think sets me apart from the others?” Warriors seemed very concerned about this question and was opening his mouth to answer when loud shouts came from the land above them.

               “Hey, guess what we found?” Hyrule asked excitedly, running down to the fire where they were sitting. He kicked up sand as he ran, getting some in the cooking pot, which Wild had just finished cleaning. Wild made a noise in his throat and reached in to try to clean it out again.

               “Let me guess,” Time said wryly as Linebeck came into sight empty-handed. “Not treasure.”

               “No, even better!” he exclaimed. “Come see!”

               Hyrule’s excitement was persuasive, and soon they were all following him back up the hill. Sky and Twilight were just returning from their scouting, and joined the party as well. Hyrule led the way forward, as Linebeck had excused himself, saying he had an errand that needed running and would be back in a few days. He’d hugged Wind and told him that if he found any treasure to let him know. Wind didn’t like goodbyes, but Linebeck had promised to return, so he didn’t complain much- he would see him in a couple of days.

               Legend was waiting for them at the top of a rocky cliff overlooking the beach further down. There was a rope ladder bolted into the ground that had obviously been there before they had. “Now, before we go down there,” he started without any preamble, “they may look different, but don’t attack them. They are really quite peaceful.”

               “Why would we want to attack them?” Sky frowned.

               “Someone startles easily and likes to swing first and ask questions later,” Legend said pointedly. Hyrule blushed.

               “No one got hurt,” he quickly clarified. “And they’re really cool, too!”

               “Alright, let’s get down there,” Time said, following Legend as he descended. Wind followed after, much to the protest of Twilight, who thought he should be next. He went ignored.

               When they reached the bottom of the ladder they followed the cliff to a cave entrance. It was dark inside, and it took Wind’s eyes a couple of moments to adjust. When they did, he heard a gasp behind him as Twilight entered. The people here were black and white skinned, with grey tones between, and teal symbols marking their chests. They were slender and towered over them on thin legs, their orange eyes observing every move. In one corner of the cave there was what appeared to be a strange mirror with runes running its circumference. The other corner was much more elaborate, appearing to have been carved out of stone by an ancient race. There was a stone door with carvings and ancient symbols with the image of a woman in the middle, holding up what appeared to be a stone with lines drawn outward from it. The rest of the party piled in, and the tallest of the group stepped forward to greet them.

               “Hello, I am Hambar, of the Twili. I have been delegated as Keeper of this sacred cave, and these are chosen ambassadors of the Light world. When the little one attacked, we knew that your party must be made of brave warriors.”

               “We do apologize for that, by the way,” Time said, stepping forward. “Is there anything we can do to make up for it?”

               The ambassadors shared a glance with the Keeper, and they nodded to him as he turned back to the group. “There is one thing you could do for us,” he admitted, “though we understand if you refuse.

               “You see, after the goddesses sank Hyrule, they approached us and offered us a chance at redemption. We were trapped millennia ago in the Twilight Realm due to our greed. Over the years we have adapted to our environment, and lost most of our magic. Some of us still have it, but we have all but forgotten the skills our sorcerer ancestors possessed. As such, we cannot enter the Light Realm without threat of death. The goddesses have given us this land, but it is impossible to leave this cave except at night. We don’t want to risk building when we might not get back below before the sun rises, and there is no cover for miles around.

               “But the goddesses have given us a way out. This is the Cave of Naeovi, and herein lays the Daystar, which can transform our people so that we may step into the light once more. Only one who is worthy can complete the Trials of Sorrow, which will unlock the Daystar and allow our people to live in the land we’ve been given. We’ve been waiting hundreds of years for our freedom.”

               “Why haven’t one of the Twili completed the trials?” Time asked from the sidelines. He was tense, and appeared suspicious.

               “All of us who wish to have tried, at one point or another. Young men and women, looking to prove themselves, place their hands on the Moonstone and try to gain entrance to the trials. Some are rejected; some make it into the trials but fail. No one has passed, and once failed the Stone no longer accepts them. No one who has been rejected has ever been accepted at another attempt, either. I myself tried every day for years when I was first made Keeper of the Cave. We are losing heart. But here we have fierce and brave combatants from the Light world. Perhaps we have a chance at redemption, now.”

               “And what exactly do these trials consist of?” Legend’s arms, like Time’s, were stiff and straight, like he was either preparing to grab his sword or turn and run.

               “We cannot say,” Hambar replied. “No one who has made it to the trials has spoken of them. We assume the Stone keeps them from sharing any information.”

               “I’ll do it,” Twilight offered quickly, stepping forward. “I’ll try the trials.”

               Hambar eyed Twilight critically. “Very well, I suppose you may. Just be aware that only one attempt can be made per day. And the challenger must have a light in them to rival the surrounding darkness.”

               Wind didn’t know what made him do it, but he walked up and stood next to Twilight. “No, I want to try first,” he said, heart pounding in his throat. Twilight turned and looked at him, surprised, as if he hadn’t been expecting him to appear next to him. “This is my Hyrule,” he looked Twilight in the eye. “If I can’t, then you can try tomorrow.” He turned back to the Keeper. “But I want to try first.”

               The Twili tilted his head and examined Wind for a moment. Wind felt as if he were staring into his very soul. “Is that okay with you, Dark One?” he asked. It took Wind a moment to realize that he was talking to Twilight.

               “I suppose so,” Twilight said, looking at him. His gaze weighed heavily on Wind. “This is his era.”

               “Very well,” Hambar consented, finally breaking eye contact. “Follow me.” The Keeper went to the carved door and placed his hand on a panel near it. It gave off a teal glow and the wall slid open to reveal a smooth, domed room beyond. The walls were a dark blue, specks of light shining like stars, repeated endlessly into a crystalline darkness. The image shimmered and moved as they walked, giving a soft glow to the floor below. A door was set into the wall on the far side, only the smallest hint of a seam indicating its presence. In the middle of the room was a beautiful, smooth white stone that shone at different points as if the stars were repeated inside it as well. The Moonstone, Wind realized. An obsidian statue of a Hylian woman knelt on the ground, her fingers seeming to caress it. Drops of water trickled from her empty stone eyes and fell off of petrified cheeks to be absorbed by the gem below. Wind suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

               “You sure about this?” Warriors asked. “You don’t have to prove anything to us, you know.”

               “I want to,” Wind replied quietly. “Besides, this is my Hyrule. I want to save these people, too.”

               Warriors took a deep breath and released it before nodding once and removing his hand. “Okay. I trust you.”

               The Twili didn’t protest as the others entered the room, but motioned Wind forward and instructed him to kneel on the ground as the woman was.

               “Place your hand here on the Moonstone,” he instructed. “It will decide whether you are worthy or not. Good luck.”

               Wind placed his hand on the mineral and slammed his eyes shut as light flashed suddenly from its core. He heard exclamations from the others as they, too, had to hide their eyes from the glare. There was a loud noise, like the pounding of a thousand thunderstorms, and then all was quiet.

               He slowly blinked his eyes only to see, disappointed, his hand still on the stone, which had returned to its normal state. He looked around the room. The others were still rubbing their eyes, and the door had yet to open. He felt a large hand on his shoulder and felt himself being lifted up off the floor. Hambar was quiet as he led him and the rest of the group out and back into the main cave.

               “Do not feel disappointed,” he said quietly. “Many have tried and many have failed.” He looked up from Wind. “There is always tomorrow, if any of you others wish to try,” he said as the Twili ambassadors slowly took their leave. “I will still be here.” There were little flashes of light as the Twili disappeared back to their Realm, and the others began to ascend the rope ladder once again. Wind was the only one left.

               “What are you still doing here, Little Light?” the Keeper asked. He didn’t sound nearly as welcoming as before.

               “I would still like to help,” Wind knew he wasn’t worthy, but there had to be something he could do. The Twili man seemed to consider his offer, and then nodded.

               “Very well,” he said. “It is said there is a rare lily that only blooms under the light of the moon. The Moon’s Pail grows on a slender stem, with many tiny flowers. You can smell its fragrance easily on a warm night; it has a honey scent. It is many leagues from here, in the Brineback Swamp to the east. None of us dares to retrieve it, but it is a great medicine to our kind, and can even cure those of us who have been fatally burned by the sun. If you retrieve a couple for us, as well as a bulb or two to plant in the soil above, we may be able to hold up until this curse is lifted.”

               Wind smiled brightly. He still had a chance. “Thank you so much!” he waved as he left, backing toward the entrance. “You won’t regret it!” And then he was following his companions to where they were congregated at the top of the cliff.

               “We’ll head back to where we built our fire earlier. That way we’re still close and Linebeck will know where to find us when he returns,” Time was saying. The others looked his way when he came in view, quickly looking away when his eyes caught theirs. Wind’s heart sunk. They were ashamed of him. Warriors was the only one who kept eye contact. He moved to walk beside Wind as they made their way to camp.

               “Hey, you aren’t feeling bad, are you?” he asked. “You did your best. We know it. They know it, too.”

               Wind remained quiet. He didn’t know what to say. He swallowed the tight feeling in his throat and continued to walk forward.

               “They’ve been trying for hundreds of years, and none of them were able to complete the trials.”

               But at least some got admitted to them. Wind hadn’t even gotten that far.

               “This is my Hyrule,” he said instead, “I’m supposed to be able to help them. What kind of a hero am I if I can’t?”

               “You help in any way you can,” Warriors replied. “You aren’t a hero because you can lift a sword out of a stone. You’re a hero because your heart is in the right place and you want to help others. You put their needs before your own.”

               Wind nodded, feeling the light inside him ignite anew. Warriors was right. He hadn’t been accepted into the trials, but he could still help the Twili. The others needed to stay close to see if they were worthy, but Wind didn’t. He already knew the decision of the stone, and now he had something better: he had something he could do other than sit around and see if a rock would think he was worthy of it. He could still help these people.

               But he didn’t know how long he was going to be gone for, and the others needed to be nearby in case the stone chose them. When they got back to camp, he told Time that he was heading out to go exploring a bit. Time wanted someone to go with him, but Wind refused.

               “Do you see anything out here?” It was a rhetorical question. “I know you’re worried, but I’m a hero, too, and I can take care of myself. If I’m not back by tomorrow morning, go ahead and try the trials without me. There’s something I need to do.”

               “You should still take someone with you. It’s not like you’re planning on being gone more than eight days, are you?” Wind wasn’t planning on it, but it was entirely probable.

               Wind shook his head anyway. “I want everyone here that can be. The stone might speak to one of you, and you may be their hope,” he said. “This is my era. These people are my responsibility, and the sooner they can get out of that cave, the better.” He hefted his pack over his shoulder and made eye contact with as many of them as possible. “Do this for me?”

               Warriors looked troubled, but he said nothing. Time didn’t look like he approved, either, but nodded. “Fine. But I want you back within three days, or we’re going looking for you.”

               That wasn’t as good as Wind had hoped, but it was better than nothing. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.” Twilight’s blue eyes stared unnervingly at him as he turned around. He could feel them weighing heavily on his back. His own hubris had caused him to go before the elder teen, and may have made the Twili wait longer. But he would be back, and he wouldn’t disappoint them. He would amend his mistake, and help the people he’d failed.

               He had to.

                 Wind travelled all day and stopped to rest only when night was falling. Thanks to journeying with the other Links for so long, he’d gotten used to walking long distances, and he was able to get a lot farther than he would have before. He ate some of the jerky stored away in his pack. Something he used to enjoy now just tasted like cardboard, but he didn’t know if it was because he’d been spoilt with Wild’s cooking, or if his earlier failure had taken the taste out. Either way, he couldn’t lose this opportunity. The Twili were counting on him, and he would do something to help them, even if he couldn’t free them completely.

               Wind took a brief nap before continuing on in his easterly path. The moon had crested the horizon, and he thought he heard a wolf howl in the distance, but it could have been the wind. There was nothing but sparse grass and rock for miles. He wished for Wolfie, but it was unlikely that Wild’s companion was nearby. He would have to do this alone.

               Wind tried to hum a jaunty pirate tune to get his mind off of his loneliness, but it ended up sounding more haunting than uplifting. His attempt died out quickly. He’d never really been alone during his travels, and it was odd to be so now. He wished there was someone to talk to. The heath stretched on for miles, becoming its own ocean as gusts caused the grasses to bend in waves. The smell of salt blew in from the ocean, even though it was a half an hour’s walk away. Everything here- it was so desolate. Wind wondered if this land was really better than the Twilight realm, but quickly brushed it off. If Hambar and his people were so desperate to get here, then it must be better. And the land wasn’t entirely untamable. Wind had seen the people of New Hyrule turn infertile tracts into lush gardens of vegetables and fields of grain. There was hope for the Twili yet.

               He spotted a dark stain on the horizon, and squinted as if it would help him to better make out its shape. The moon was above it now, and its brightness was making it difficult to see.

               It took thirty more minutes before he realized they were trees. Was this the swamp? Wind felt excitement race through him and broke into a run.

               In eight minutes he was panting hard and his legs burned, but he was at the dark copse of trees. Anticipation rose in him as he entered. He would find the flowers here, he would bring them back, and he would help the people he’d failed. It was the least he could do.

               Everything was noticeably darker after entering the woods. Wind had difficulty seeing his hand in front of his face, much less if there were any flowers around. He could no longer hear the howling gales, the sound being replaced by the hoots of owls in the branches and the groans and creaks of ancient trees. His heart pounded in his chest and his feet ached, but the Twili’s hope was ahead. He would find it, and he would bring it back to them.

               The air here was stale and stunk of rotting vegetation. Mud appeared beneath his feet and began to suck at his boots. At one point he stepped in a particularly soft patch and ended up almost thigh-deep in it. He’d reached out and found a vine, which he used as leverage to pull himself out. After almost losing a boot, he was more careful to feel out his steps first.

               Suddenly there was a snap of a twig behind him, and Wind turned quickly just in time to see a Lizalfos jump at him with a spear. Barely dodging, he slung his shield onto his arm and quickly retrieved his sword. It hissed and growled at him, coming back for another lunge.  Wind had never seen one in his own world, and yet it distinctly was one of his, and not one of the others’. He didn’t know how he knew, and tried not to think too hard about it.

               It hissed and jumped toward him. Wind blocked its blow and thrust his weapon toward its exposed belly, but it retreated quickly and he missed. Cursing under his breath, he readjusted his footing and readied himself for another attack. It came bounding toward him once more, and he struck just as it lifted its sword arm. It screamed in pain and he quickly pulled his blade out of its belly. There was a strangled roar behind him, and Wind turned in time to see another monster lunge for him.

               Sweat began to dampen his hair as Wind fought, feinting and spinning to get a good angle on his attacker. As soon as he dispatched the one he was fighting, another materialized from the woods.

               Luckily he was accustomed to their movements by now, and was able to finish the great lizard off much more quickly than he had the other two. Still, he stood there trying to catch his breath after the last one was downed. Wind was exhausted; the fight had taken a lot more out of him than he’d thought. He would need to rest soon, but not yet.

               The breeze in the leaves above him rustled, and Wind turned his gaze to a glow he could now make out further in. Wearily, he trod forward through the soggy ground to see what it was revealing.

               There, bathed in the soft light of the heavens, was the Moon’s Pail. The dainty flowers were facing up towards the great light, where it appeared that they were gathering the beams like a pail would collect water. Delicate petals were black on the outside and white on the inside, and they trembled as Wind ran a wondering hand over them. He picked one, and then another, and then another; until he had a handful of the sweet-smelling blooms. He left plenty in the clearing to repopulate, and dug up a few bulbs as well. Satisfied with his findings, he quickly put them back in his bag and began to head back west.

               Getting out of the forest was much easier than going in had been, and once he was out on the heath Wind finally began to relax. There was nothing for miles around, and he decided to take another nap.

               The nap ended up being more than a nap, as Wind awoke to light glaring in his face and a cool gust to his hair. Immediately he jumped up. He had to get to the others, and quickly!

               Wind ran most of the way there, and began to shout as he neared the location of their camp. “Guys, I’m back! And I’ve got something for the Twili, too!” Wind gasped at the sight that greeted him when he crested the hill.

               “No.” No. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t.

               “Guys?” Wind hated the way his voice sounded. It was tiny and hurt, and nothing like the way he wanted to sound.

               But his friends, his family…Wind ran down to the beach where they’d peacefully had lunch the day before. “Guys?” It was a slaughter. Red stained the sand below and bodies were twisted in painful positions. “Please,” he whispered. No one moved. His eyes roved desperately, trying to find a survivor. Time, Legend, Hyrule. Sky…. He hesitantly moved forward, his eyes filling with tears that blurred everything. Twilight, Four, Wild… No, someone had to live! Someone had to have escaped! Eight figures lay unmoving on the ground. What happened? Who could have done this, why didn’t they –

               “Warriors?” His friend, his older brother was… Wind choked back a sob as he knelt in the sand beside the body. “Warriors?” He began to shake him by the shoulders, even though he knew it wouldn’t do anything. His bright blue eyes stared up into nothing. “C’mon, wake up. Please.” His voice cracked at the end, but he didn’t care. Hot tears spilled down his face, the ocean breeze doing little to calm him. His friends were gone.

               “Link! Link!” Wind picked his head up at the call, and noticed Linebeck running on the beach toward him. The man stumbled slightly and his eyes widened at the sight in front of him. “What in Din’s name…?”

               “They’re gone,” Wind choked. “I f-failed them, Linebeck. I shouldn’t have - have le-left.”

               The sailor appeared horrified before he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Link.” Wind closed his eyes and shook his head, ducking it low to curl over his older brother figure. “But there’s trouble on Outset.” Wind felt his heart sink even lower than it had been before.

               “What do yo-you mean?”

               “A group of raiders has invaded, and the whole island is under siege. Tetra and the pirates are doing what they can, but Outset isn’t prepared to fight a veritable army.”

               “I’ll go.” The Twili could get their flowers at any time.

               “What about them?” Linebeck asked quietly, gesturing to-.

               Wind closed his eyes and turned his head. “I might be able to save Grandma and Aryll,” he said. “I’m too late for –.” The last part came out as barely even a whisper. He was too much of a coward to even finish the sentence. He stood swiftly, brushing the tears from his eyes. There would be time to mourn later. For now, he tried to think of the family he was going to save, and not the one he was too late for. Not the one that he was leaving to bake in the sun.

               Wind gently closed Warriors’s eyes, and turned to go with Linebeck.

               It was evening by the time they got to Outset. Wind saw the smoke before he saw the land, great billows of it rising into the air and blackening out the sky above. If there were any flames there before, they were already gone. The skeletons of houses stood eerily above a beach littered with bodies. Linebeck cursed as Wind dove overboard, forgetting his pack aboard the ship. He wasn’t an amazing swimmer, but he was semi-decent. The need to see his family overrode any concern about his own wellbeing.

               Wind had no idea how he got to the shore before Linebeck, but he did. Soaked and shivering, he searched for any sign of his sister or grandmother. “Grandma! Aryll?” he cried, panting as he looked for any signs of life among the wreckage. Cannonballs left troughs from where they plowed into the sand. Limbs and weapons and gore littered the ground, but Wind ignored all of it. “Aryll? Little sister?” he called desperately. “Grandma!” Then he saw it: a little sandal under some collapsed roofing where there house had once been. Wind grunted as he pushed the boards up and heaved them to the side. “Aryll?” Her face was turned upwards toward the sky with a peaceful expression. Blood puddled underneath her head, and in the moonlight her skin appeared as veined marble. When Wind’s tentative fingers brushed her cheek, it was as soft as the Moon’s Pail’s petals and as cold as ice. He used the back of his hand to gently wipe away the trickle of blood that had crept from the corner of her mouth. No breath left her lips. His grandmother lay nearby, her neck twisted as if she was looking out to the open sea.

               “At least they died together,” a voice came from behind him. Wind spun to see her, covered in sweat and blood that wasn’t her own, her face wet with tears. “But you were gone. You weren’t here.”

               “Tetra?” He hated the tremor that came out with the word.

               “You failed them, Link.” Her voice was hard as the tempered edge of a cutlass. “Where were you?”

               “I was…” he trailed off.

               “You were nowhere to be found,” she snapped, her lower lip trembling and her voice breaking like fine china dashed against the surf. “I sent messages by bird, by ship, by train, but you were nowhere.”

               “I…I didn’t know,” he said pathetically.

               “Do you know?” Tetra rubbed hard at her eyes, hiding them behind her forearm. “Do you know that they were hoping for you? They were looking for you to come out of the ocean and rescue them, even when the raiders began to fire at the houses with their cannons.”

               “No,” Wind said, shaking his head, but not in answer to her question. He closed his eyes. This couldn’t be real. This can’t have happened. Tears were soaking his cheeks and dripping from his chin, turning the ashes to mud below him.

               “Even when the raiders came into the houses, murdering and looting, they said, ‘Link will come. He won’t forget us. He’s our big brother, our grandson. He won’t leave us to die!’”

               “Please, stop,” he whispered. He didn’t want to hear anymore.

               “And where did their hope in you get them?” He looked up as she stayed quiet. She shuddered and turned to look Wind in the eye.

               “Please-se, Tetra,” he sobbed.

               “They begged, too.” It came out dead. “And they locked them in the house and set it on fire. If it weren’t for a misfire on the part of one of the raiders’ ships, they would have burned alive.”

               “Don’t,” he choked, “don’t. Please.”

               “I can’t even bear to look at you,” she said, turning her face from him. The sound of footsteps in the sand broke up the sound of waves lapping at the beach below them. “Linebeck,” she said, her voice leaving her mouth as cold and hard as coffin nails. “Take him with you.”

               “Tetra, please.” He didn’t have much left. At least let him bury his dead, see to it that they were cared for and loved.

               “Your Majesty?”

               The pirate captain shuddered. “I never want to see him again. Take him back to that island, to whatever was more important than his own people, and leave him there.”

               “Zelda, please.” The words came out tiny and broken, just like him. She turned slightly toward him, and Wind thought for a moment she might change her mind.

               “Goodbye, Link.” And then she was walking down the beach toward the hull of her broken ship.

               “C’mon, kid,” Linebeck said gently, guiding him by the elbow. Wind felt numb as he was led back toward the ocean and onto the deck of the steamship. Linebeck left him to himself, busying himself across the ship and guiding it out into open waters.

               It was noon by the time they reached the dead island. Linebeck was quiet as he anchored the ship, and some distant part of Wind was glad he’d landed further down the beach instead of where his friends had been slaughtered. He moved robotically, grabbing his things and walking off the gangplank and onto the sand. Salt had crusted in his hair; muddy ashes had caked on his shins. His lashes were frosted with minerals from the swim and his own tears. His eyes were itchy and swollen as Linebeck came beside him and enveloped him in a warm hug. Wind didn’t have the energy to lift his arms to return it.

               “It’ll be okay, kid,” Linebeck pressed his lips to the top of Wind’s head. “It’ll be okay.”

               Wind was unable to process much as Linebeck released his shoulders and, giving a final pat, turned to his ship. The almost fourteen year old watched as the vessel got smaller and smaller until it disappeared over the horizon.

               The pack hadn’t been on his back when he’d dived into the water. Wind took it out, not sure what he was going to do; maybe look for the telescope Aryll had given him (he needed something to-), when he noticed the Moon’s Pail inside, somehow still as fresh as they had been when he picked them. Tears prickled at his eyes and he sniffed. Was this what he got for helping others? For being a hero? If it was, he didn’t want any part of it.

               “You might not be able to help them, but you can still help someone,” a calm voice spoke in front of him. Wind looked up, just to see Four’s figure fading from view, his face looking over his shoulder at the cliffs behind him.

               “Wait, Four!” but the smaller hero was gone. Wind wiped his face for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Four, or his memory of Four, or that illusion, or whatever-it-was was right. The Twili were still relying on him. The people he loved were gone or had left him, but the Twili could still have happiness. They could still have hope. Something good had to come out of this.

               Steadying his breath, Wind picked himself up off the ground. A breeze blew through his stiff hair and rustled his crusty clothing. He could do this. He could help the Twili, even if it was with this. He could still have hope for them. And then…

               Stumbling up the hill, Wind somehow made it to the top of the cliff. The rope ladder was exactly as he’d remembered it, and he descended it carefully, making sure not to lose the precious cargo on his back.

               Entering the cave, he once more blinked his eyes to try to get them to adjust. “You look terrible.” Wind was just able to recognize the voice as that of the Keeper’s.

               He didn’t have any words for him in response.

               Instead, Wind took out the flowers in his pack as well as the bulbs that could potentially save so many lives.

               “The Moon’s Pail!” the Twili exclaimed. “Where did you find it? Never mind, never mind. I’ll put them in a cool dry place and we can plant them tomorrow.” The Guardian of the cave held out a long, pale hand. Wind normally would have felt some sort of accomplishment, but now he only felt exhaustion. He wanted to curl up in a corner of the cave and sleep until everything made sense, or everyone was back as they should be. But he couldn’t.

               Instead, he reached forward and handed the plants to Hambar. He knew, somehow, that what he’d done was incredibly important to these people. It could bring them light.

               As soon as the flowers touched the Keeper’s hands there was a loud crack, and the carved stone door slid open to reveal the room beyond. And beyond that…

               “The door is opened!” Hambar exclaimed. “Well, that’s certainly never happened before. No one has bypassed the Moonstone.”

               Wind should have felt excitement, but he didn’t feel anything except relief. There was still hope yet. He could save the Twili still. He looked at the Keeper expectantly, wondering if he was going to protest him beginning the trials. Hambar’s eyes bored into his own.

               “It’s up to you, Little Light,” he said. “Retrieve our Daystar.” Wind just nodded, and Hambar offered to him the natural spring in the back of the cave to refill his water bottle at. Wind did so, washing his face and hands in the refreshing flow, as well as refilling his flask after drinking water from it several times over. Feeling a little bit more human and a lot more refreshed, he approached the entrance to the Trials.

               He entered the dark room, and the door slammed shut behind him. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure if he could do this. “You can do this, little brother,” Warriors was suddenly in front of him, as bright and fresh as he had been when he was alive. “I believe in you.” He reached a hand forward as if to ruffle his hair, but faded away before he made contact. Wind’s eyes filled, but he nodded. He would complete the Trials. He may not have hope for himself, but he still had some for the Twili.

               He walked forward hesitantly, gripping his blade tightly as he saw a strange blue glow down the dark hallway. The light took shape as he came into a large chamber, and before him was the huffing steaming creature he had fought most recently.  “Malladus,” he whispered, horror warring with anger. How was this demon alive again? He didn’t care. He would kill it and make sure it left this earth for good.

               Wind charged forward with a yell, keeping his shield in front of him and his sword ready to swing. Malladus sped forward as well, intent on skewering the boy on his horns.

               The young teen leapt at the last second, vaulting up and over the beast’s head and driving his sword into the weak spot on the creature’s back; or, at least, he tried to. Instead of going through like he wanted, the sword bounced harmlessly off of scaled skin. Wind gasped. The last time he’d fought it, he’d had Tetra’s help. Now he was on his own. The demon reached a large, clawed hand over him and tore him from its back, throwing him into the cave wall. Wind shook his head, trying to keep the room from spinning and quickly jumped out of the way before it got to him, causing it to ram into the wall. While it was down, Wind lifted his sword and again aimed for the jewel between its horns. He prepared to strike down with all his might, but the beast recovered more quickly than he was expecting and swung one of its horns at Wind’s side. Wind was just a bit too slow, and didn’t get his shield up fast enough. He screamed in agony and shoved the Phantom Sword into Malladus’s eye. It was a small target, and it was a dirty move, but it did the trick. The demon jerked back with a roar, Wind’s screams joining him as blood began to flow more freely. He was barely standing, holding the hole in his side with his shield arm while raising his bloody sword in a tremulous grasp. He stood at the ready, waiting for the beast to notice him and charge again, but it didn’t. It pawed at its face, and Wind realized it must still think the sword was in its eye. He himself was feeling weak and exhausted from the fight and lack of sleep, but he would finish this. He would finish this and retrieve the Daystar for the Twili.

               The beast began to ram its face blindly into the walls, and Wind approached it slowly, trying to keep his insides in. He shivered as he watched it bash its skull into the sides over and over again. It stumbled and fell to the ground, its head lying low as it tried to catch its breath. Wind felt a flash of pity as he lifted his weapon and shoved it as hard as he could through its ruby-encrusted forehead. The demon shuddered once and then stilled, stiffening and crumbling into dust. Wind sighed and collapsed to his knees.

               A door banged in the distance and Wind flinched. Peeling open his eyes, he saw a tall, dark, robed figure walk through. He struggled to rise, but didn’t make it halfway before he was knocked to the floor again.

               “I would stay down, if I were you.” Wind froze. He recognized that voice. The fine tremble in his arms intensified tenfold. “I have plenty of malice for the one that entombed me in stone at the bottom of the sea.” No. No. How? How could this monster still be alive? He’d killed him. He’d shoved a sword through his skull and covered him with water and left his corpse leagues below the surface. How was he here?

               “Bow like the insect you are,” the false king growled, “and I will spare your life.”

               “No,” he said, choking around a glob of blood. He managed to make it unsteadily to his feet, and spit at Ganondorf’s boots. “I will never bow to you.”

               “Very well,” Ganondorf said, “then perish.”

               Wind had every intention of fighting that monster then and there, but his body had other ideas. The Gerudo swung a meaty fist at his face, and all went black.

                 When Wind next blinked open his eyes, he was in a prison cell. He didn’t move. He didn’t even twitch. Rather, he just allowed himself to breathe, to hear the rush of air in and out of his lungs. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep and wake up again with everyone alive and well. Wind’s eyes pricked with tears. So much had been taken from him, so quickly; he hadn’t had time to process it. It wasn’t fair.

               “So what, you just gonna lie there and give up?” a voice snarked. Wind lifted his eyes to see a transparent Legend looking at him from where he was leaning on the wall. “Doesn’t sound like a hero to me.”

               “I don’t know if I want to be a hero.” His voice was scratchy, like it had been overused.

               Legend rolled his eyes. “No one wants to be a hero kid. At least, no one that’s been doing it for a long time does. Heroism is selflessness. It’s putting others first. It’s hard, and you can bet your bucket that it’s gonna drag you down and feed on you ‘till there’s nothing left. But you know what?” Wind shook his head. This was the longest that any of the “ghosts” had spoken to him. “It’s worth it. It’s worth every bit of pain that comes to you, to save someone, to protect a life and give them a future. Don’t give up, Wind.” And then he was gone.

               He was right, Wind realized belatedly. People’s lives alone were worth the fight. Lying here, feeling sorry for himself, wasn’t going to help anyone. He tried to push himself up to his knees, but he couldn’t; he still had a gaping wound in his side, and if he didn’t get help soon, he would die.

               “Hey, Wind,” a voice quietly came from right next to him. “Hold still, I might be able to help.”

               “H-Hyrule?”

               “Yeah,” he said quietly, slender fingers moving to the gouge in Wind’s side. “You’re one tough kid, you know that?”

               “I- what are you doing?” Sparks danced from Hyrule’s fingers, and he moved them gently over the wound. It slowly closed up, until an angry scab was all that was left.

               “I’m sorry I can’t do more,” Hyrule said, smiling at him. “But this should hold ‘till you finish the rest of the trial.”

               Wind felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. Again. He was so weak.

               “Hey, hey, hey; you’re strong, Wind. Just remember, where there’s life, there’s hope.” He shot Wind a smile.

               The younger teen huffed out a laugh. “That’s so lame.” Hyrule just smiled and stood up. Wind got to his legs shakily.

               “Door’s unlocked,” Hyrule informed him. “Good luck.” And then he was gone.

               Wind cautiously opened the door to his cell, cringing as it creaked loudly. But no one came to investigate the noise, so he went ahead and stepped out.

               The corridor was eerily quiet, his shuffling echoing off the stone walls. He followed it until he came to a large, open room. He quickly swallowed his fear and drew his sword. The dark king was there, his back turned to the door, his face set toward a shining bright stone sitting upon a pedestal. Wind felt anger rise up inside him at the sight. No. Ganondorf had ruined enough lives. Wind was going to stop him where he was.

               As silently as possible, Wind came up behind the monster and stabbed at his unsuspecting back. Cape parted and steel met steel in a clash as the Gerudo matched Wind’s sword thrust with a block of his own. “Thought you could sneak up on me, little ship rat?” he growled. “I will show you what true revenge looks like.” And with that he shoved the young teen backward with his sword.

               Wind blocked and parried as he was forced back to the wall. He gritted his teeth. He had to fight; he had to win. If he didn’t… well, he wouldn’t think about that. He would make sure he won. The Twili were counting on him.

               Suddenly Ganondorf moved. Wind went to block the strike, but it was a trick. Instead he was on the receiving end of a great fist to the stomach. His air whooshed out of his lungs, and he was thrown back several yards. Hyrule’s healing had covered his wound, but it hadn’t replenished the lost blood. The exhaustion was catching up with him and making him sloppy. That sloppiness had cost him.

               Wind moved to get up, but the monster placed a heavily-booted foot on his chest, forcing him down. He gasped for air, but the dark king just pressed harder.

               “Pathetic,” he growled. “I expected more of a threat, but you are just a puppy. You’ve lost your touch.” Desperate, Wind swung his sword and pierced Ganondorf’s leg through. He roared, jerking his limb back and freeing it from the blade.

               Wind sat up and took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand on two feet. “I’ve already beaten you once. I can do it again.” The man snarled in rage and rushed forward. Wind had no time to dodge before his large hand was wrapped around his throat, squeezing the life out of him. Suddenly Ganondorf swung downward, bashing his head against the hard stone floor, and Wind’s sword clanged as it bounced away. Then he was slammed hard again. Again. Again.

               Wind was dazed. Where was he? What was he doing? Where was his sword? Why was his side warm and sticky? He gasped as a knee pressed into his sternum and the sound of metal being dragged menacingly across the stone floor got louder and louder until the source came to rest by his ear. A giant face moved down to whisper in the other one.

               “There is something you should know, before I kill you,” Ganondorf whispered. “Darkness always wins. It wins in the hearts of everyone. No one dies with hope.” Wind grasped with his hand, and felt something hard and smooth under his palm. His sword! Ganondorf kept his head low as he positioned his blade for a final blow. “Goodbye, little hero.” Steel cleaved flesh, and with a strangled gurgle, a heart stopped. All was heavy and silent...

…

…

               Wind’s eyes opened. Something hot and viscous was flowing down the back of his hands. With a sigh, the giant body fell toward him, and Wind barely had the strength to push the knee off and shove the corpse away as he rolled from it.

               And he promptly threw up.

               There wasn’t much in his stomach but water and blood. The past … day? Day and a half?... had been so harrowing that he couldn’t stop the tears from pouring out. It felt like a lifetime. He was so tired, so weak; blood loss and exhaustion had overtaken him. He supported himself on shaking limbs, the Phantom Sword still lodged in the Gerudo king’s jaw. He left it there.

               Suddenly his arms gave out beneath him, and he landed in the puddle of bile and blood that had left his body. The sound of footsteps drew near, and he tried to track the sound with his eyes.

               “C’mon, Wind. Get up;” it was Sky, his soft voice echoing through the chamber. He knelt down and peered into Wind’s face. “Wake up. Complete your journey.”

               “You’re almost done, kid.” That was Twilight. What was he doing here? “You’re so close to finishing.” Wait? Where had Sky gone? No, he was dead. So was Twilight.

               “I can’t,” he cried. “Not- not as good as you…” It was hard to catch his breath, and he felt himself slipping. “’M not as s-strong as you or Time, not as sm-mart as Four or Hyrule…hhuuhh… I don’t have Leg-en’s ‘sperience… or Sky’s, Warriors’s, and Wild’s…skills…. ’M a failure…. Failed you. You’re dead because of me. Can’t do it.” Everything hurt so badly.

               “Sure you can,” Wild’s voice sounded as deerskin shoes came into view. Wind turned his head, just to try to catch a glimpse of his face. “You have to. You have to remember. We can’t do this, only you can. You have to fight for us. Live for us.”

               Wind struggled to get to his knees again. The pedestal was still there, holding the Daystar which pulsed with life. It was the last beacon in the dark- the last hope of the Twili.

               But he didn’t know if he could get to it.

               He managed to prop himself up on his hands and knees, his shirt hanging heavily with bile and blood. He had failed the others. It only made sense that he would fail the Twili just as easily. He wasn’t even crying, now. He was out of tears.

               “Wind,” a voice gently spoke. It was Time. He waited to continue until Wind met his eye. “You, Wind, are our hope, even in the worst of times. You are our light. Shine for us.” Wind tried to draw in a deep breath, but it came out sounding more like a hiccough. He tried again, and somehow, miraculously, got to his feet. He was shaking so badly he wondered how he hadn’t toppled over. But it was nothing in relation to the light ahead of him. His skull was throbbing behind his eyes, its cacophony drowning out all but the music of the gem. The pain in his side was just a scratch in the face of the Hope ahead. Sounds of his own blood “plip”-ing against the stone floor went ignored; he was concerned with something greater than himself. He stepped forward. Once, twice, thrice, until he came to the altar of the Daystar.

               He prayed that this would bring hope to the Twili. He prayed that, when it was over, he might be with his friends and family again.

               It wasn’t the most graceful of movements. In fact, it was a sloppy thing, a jerky motion that even a toddler would be ashamed of. His left arm flailed out, and his fingers brushed its corona.

               The world exploded into light, a high pitched ringing sounding through his ears and consuming his very being.

               Then, it was just light.

…

               Then, there were fingers running through his hair, and a familiar voice in his ear.

…

               Then, the light faded, and he realized his eyes were closed, a warm breeze blowing in his face.

               Then, he opened his eyes to Warriors’s concerned face and a canopy of eternal stars. A quiet glow was coming from nearby, adding softness to his features.

               “Hey, little bro. Nice to see your baby blues again.” His smile was white and brilliant, perfect as always.

               “Warriors?” The elder’s hand came into view as he withdrew it, and Wind realized it had been his fingers that had been playing with his hair. “Y’re dead.”

               Warriors’s expression twisted into confusion. “No I’m not.”

               “Yes, y’are. Saw it. Were… all bloody. I clos’d y’r eyes.”

               “What?”

               “How’ryu – alive?”

               Warriors looked at him, flabbergasted. Wind was too tired for this. He slowly shut his eyes. And then opened them again.

               “’M I dead?” he whispered. “Sorry,” he apologized as Warriors seemed to grow more agitated. “Just wished to be with you guys. But where’s Aryll? Grandma?”

               “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” Warriors replied.

               Something was off here. Wind wasn’t sure what it was, but it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps Warriors wasn’t a ghost. And maybe this wasn’t the afterlife, either.

               Wind squinted, and tried to sit up. Warriors gently pressed down on his chest. “Whoa, easy there. You just finished the Trials; you shouldn’t try to get up too fast.”

               Wind glanced over. Under his left hand was the Moonstone, smooth and unblemished and bright. And holding it was the statue of the Hylian lady, but she was no longer crying.

               “What? I don’t understand.”

               “You finished the Trials of Sorrow.” Wind turned his head towards the other voice, which happened to belong to Four, who was walking over with Wind’s blanket. He had a pleased smile on his face. He draped it over the younger’s body, and Wind removed his hand from the oblong orb. “Congratulations!”

               “I –” Wind’s voice was shaking, “I don’t understand. You guys were killed. I wasn’t there to be with you.”

               “Wind,” Four said slowly, his brow furrowing, “we’ve been here this whole time. You never left the cave.”

               “What?” he asked. “But what about my failure to activate the Trial? And the Moon’s Pail? Remember, I told you guys I would be gone for a couple of days?”

               The other two shook their heads.

               “You – you’re not dead,” he murmured, realization slowly sinking in. Then a giant grin spread across his face. “You’re not dead!” He repeated, and flung his arms around Warriors’s shoulders. Warriors’s breath came out in a whoof, but he quickly reciprocated the hug. Four placed a hand on his shoulder.

               “No, we’re not dead,” he said, humor lacing his words. “And you were amazing! You pushed through to the end, even when it got tough! Once you completed the Trials, that door over there opened and the Daystar ignited. It flew to where the Twili were waiting and immediately transformed the ones here to be able to live in the Light world! Now they can live on this land without fear of dying from exposure to the sun!”

               “Alright, Four, I think Wind’s been overwhelmed enough,” Time said, amused. “Let’s get back to the others.”

               “Can you walk?” Warriors asked, helping Wind to his feet. Time went ahead with Four to tell their companions.

               “I-I think so,” he said. “How long was I out?”

               “Oh, it took you pretty much an entire day to complete the trials, if not longer. I dunno, it’s kind of hard to tell, time passes strangely in here,” Warriors looked around the room as if it made him feel a little lost. “But, after about…mmm…two thirds of the way through, we were allowed to help you.”

               “Help me?”

               “Yeah. We could see a little bit of what was happening in that moment, and sort of ‘coach’ you, but our time was limited and we usually couldn’t do much. You were allowed more and more help as time passed, but we could only help you once.”

               “I…didn’t know that. Now it all makes sense,” Wind muttered.

               “After you finished the trials, you slept for another six hours. And, well, here you are!”

               “I finished the trials?” Wind asked.

               “Yeah, kid.”

               “And the Twili, they…they got their promised land?”

               “Uh huh.”

               “Oh,” a small grin began to break out on Wind’s face. “I guess things really worked out pretty well then, huh?”

               “I guess so.”

               When they left the cave, Twilight was chatting with some of the Twili, whose appearances had changed slightly, but not drastically. He was asking if they knew a “Midi,” or something, and the ambassadors were starting to look at him suspiciously.

               Hambar noticed him, and approached with a wide grin and welcoming arms. “Our hero!” he exclaimed. “Link, of the Wind, you have brought light back into our hearts.” He clasped hands with Wind, and shook them vigorously. “Now we can claim the land the goddesses gave us, and build a better future!”

               “I – it was my honor,” Wind said warmly.

               There was a large celebration that day, with Wind named their Hero and the excitement over the new land. The Daystar had risen to rest high above the party, and they all got to rest as the festivities ensued. Linebeck came sometime during the day, and it seemed he got into some sort of argument with the Twili, because they were soon watching wrestling matches and other good-natured competitions between the Hylians and the Twili. It was only after day had become night and then day again that they said their good-byes to the Twilit race and found themselves back on Linebeck’s ship.

               “Where are we headed now?” Linebeck was covered with necklaces of smoky quartz and obsidian, gifts the Twili had bestowed on him from their realm. In return, he’d given them a variety of rupees. They seemed fascinated with the colored jewels.

               “Let’s go home. I’m missing Aryll and Grandma,” Wind replied.

               “Very well then,” Linebeck answered. “To Outset!”

               They arrived at nightfall, and the entire group was welcomed kindly and lovingly. Wild got Grandma’s soup recipe, and Four showed Aryll where the Picori liked to hide. Everyone enjoyed themselves, but were exhausted.

               Tetra had heard Wind was back, for now, and had come to visit as well. He inquired about setting up a defense for the island, in case they were ever invaded. She’d given him a funny look, but when he’d asked again, voice quivering, she’d relented and promised him she’d get something together.

               They stayed busy enough that Wind’s sleep was dreamless.

               Eventually the time came for them to leave. Wind was incredibly anxious the whole time. He’d hugged his grandmother and sister and had made them promise to stay safe.

               “You do the same, Link,” Grandma had said. “Take care of yourself.”

               He tried to stall as long as possible, but eventually goodbyes were said and the group moved on to their next adventure.

               Then came the nightmares. Wind often found himself jolting awake in a cold sweat, the names of his family on his lips. Many nights he never slept at all, leaving him dead on his feet and sloppy in the field. Warriors and Wolfie had begun to lay down next to him in an attempt to get him to drift off. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

               One of those nights he was tired of tossing and turning and got up to sit by the fire. Legend was on watch at the time and noticed. The older teen sat down next to him and examined him for a very long time. Then he looked away. “Do you remember,” his fingers darted to his head and then back to his lap as if he didn’t know where they belonged, “what I told you? When you were sitting in the Trial’s cell, waiting for Ganondorf to return?”

               Wind turned to look at him curiously.

               Legend turned his eyes toward him. Wind, for the first time noticed the bags. He wondered what had happened to Legend that he still was unable to rest. “When you decide to become a hero; and I don’t mean that ‘chosen by Hylia’ or ‘the goddesses’ crud, because that isn’t what a hero is; when you decide to become a hero, you decide to give up your own happiness for the wellbeing of others. Terrible things happen to you, like they happen to everybody, but you paint a bigger target on your back than anyone else, because you’re blocking most of their blows. Ugh, I’m not good at this.” Legend took a deep breath and looked somewhere above Wind’s eye-line. “I guess what I’m saying is, is that misfortune is what we get for being heroes. But you gotta believe it’s worth something, that it has…meaning, if it means saving people, y’know?”

               “Yeah, I guess,” Wind said.  He didn’t know if this was supposed to make him feel better or not.

               “I’m sorry, kid. I’m not good at this comforting stuff. It doesn’t get better, but it does get easier. And as you grow older, the scar won’t fade or get any smaller, but you’ll grow bigger and bigger until you’re bigger than it.” Legend raised his arms as if to demonstrate, and Wind giggled. Legend rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Get some rest, kid. We’ll be lookin’ out for ya.” He got up and began to walk back to his watch post.

               “Wait, Legend?” Wind called. Legend stopped. “Thanks. And you know, you can enjoy things, too. Just ‘cause you put others first, doesn’t mean you can’t be happy.”

               Legend’s face softened. “Alright kid. I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Wind.”

               “Goodnight.”

               The next morning Wind woke up to Warriors sprawled out beside him, drooling into his pillow. Despite his anxiety the night before, a smile grew on his face. His family was alive, his friends were alive, and an entire people had been saved. He could rest easy knowing that.

               … And so he shut his eyes again, and did.

[craftramsay]

The Fall of Ala Mhigo

It was chaos.

Smoke and dust swirled in the wind, carrying with it the mingling scents of blood and burning flesh. The sound of metal against metal that had been ringing throughout the city has dropped away leaving an unnatural silence for a moment. A moment that seemed to last eternity.

“Ala Mhigo is FREE!” A singular voice broke the silence, but it was soon echoed by others. Dozens. Then hundreds.

Craft Ramsay fell to his knees in the streets of Ala Mhigo, a sudden weariness causing him to finally feel every ache he felt. Every wound he had taken in the hours of fighting against the last of the Mad King’s loyal followers – The Corpse Brigade. He was young, just on the cusp of manhood, but the fighting had been intense, it had raged from outside the walls of the city and through the streets. For Craft itself it had started years earlier in the small village he had grown up in, isolated in the heights of Abalathia’s Spine.

“Yah hear that, Ramsay? Theordoric is dead!”

The hand of Caius Athol slapped against Craft’s thick shoulder and he looked up at his wiry and energetic friend. Caius had grown up in that same village and they had been friends since childhood.

“Finally.” Craft had to agree, sucking dusty air into his burning lungs, grinning a wolfish grin.

“Finally.” Caius said with a nod, turning away from his friend, sheathing his two blades at his side. They were stained a dark rust, blood that had already started to dry. Craft wanted to tell him he should wipe the blades clean, that those blades might need to be used again. He resisted though, knowing that they had won the day. It didn’t prevent him from wiping the blade of his claymore clean as he stood.

“Fucking hells… I hurt all over.”

Caius looked over his shoulder at his friend, “You took a beating, Ramsay. I’m not sure how many of those bastards you were dealing with at a time, but you drew them to you like moths to a flame.”

Craft had always been skilled at combat; his father had taught him young. He was using a sword almost as soon as he could walk. That wasn’t exactly unusual for those that lived in the untamed cliffs of the spine, as there were all sorts of dangers that could befall one should they wander too far from the wooden ramparts that provided a base amount of protection to the village.

“Your father would be proud.” Caius added, more solemnly. Though he was known for his sense of humour, he knew he should make that statement, he knew what had brought the both of them to the city.

Craft’s father had been a member of the Fist of Rhalgr, a monk belonging to the order that the Mad King Theordoric had sought to eliminate. After destroying the monk’s temple and decimating the order there, he had sent elite units of the Corpse Guard to eliminate any other members of the Fist that had spread out through Gyr Abania. One unit had arrived in the small village and destroyed it, all to ensure the death of Craft’s father. He had been forced to run from the blaze, watching the execution from a distance before being pulled away. As soon as he could join up with the Revolution he had, and Caius had accompanied his friend. Since then it had been non-stop fighting for the two of them.

“Fuck.” Craft swore and pulled a small water skin from the bag he had slung over his shoulder. He took a quick draught from it and spat the water, rinsing away the taste of smoke before drinking deeply, then offering it to his friend. The calm silence of the city was the closest to peace and quiet either of them had felt in a long time.

Caius took a drink, then arched an eyebrow. “Do ya hear that?”

Craft didn’t and shook his head to indicate so. But he also didn’t say anything, focusing on the noises, dull and mute compared to the fury of the battle that had just ended. Caius always had keen hearing and he didn’t doubt that there was something he should hear.

Then it came, like the distant percussion of a drum. Could it be the victors starting a celebration? Craft managed a grin at the thought of what the celebration of the fall of the Mad King would be: Drunken debauchery in the streets of Ala Mhigo.

That grin vanished quickly, as he heard screams tear through the calm, followed by the sounds of explosions and the undeniable thrum of Magitek equipment.

“Fucking hell!” Craft cursed as he pulled his blade free from the sheath and turned to see lines of Imperial Soldiers start marching down the street. “How’re they here so quickly?”

Caius’ blades were in his hands as other members of the recently victorious force of Ala Mhigans formed up to fight another battle. “Probably waiting like the scavengers they are.”

A roar erupted from the Ala Mhigans. They had just freed their city after a long-fought war of resistance against the Mad King. They were battled hardened and would not let this day be lost. The first of them charged at the line of soldiers, led by an elder monk who had somehow avoided the purge. He dropped a few soldiers with a flurry of attacks. Others clanged blades and hammers against Garlean armour. Craft was soon charging forward as part of this mob, sword catching some of the lesser armoured infantry and hewing limbs. Crimson arced through the air as the earlier aches and pains vanished – all that remained was the fury of battle.

At first it seemed that they were winning. The first fodder of the Empire fell swiftly, though they took their toll. That elder monk had been surrounded and slain by a handful of troops, blades skewering him. A large highlander had managed to bisect a pair of soldiers before a lucky strike had cleaved his calf and dropped him. The Imperials swarmed them like Antlions. Too late, Craft realized, that this line of attackers was thrown against them to wear the already bloodied Ala Mhigans down. That similar attacks would be occurring throughout the city, against every pocket of resistance there could be.

The next line of Imperial attackers now approached. These soldiers were better armoured, and many carried Garlean gunblades, which volleyed off fire in a loud cacophony of blasts, and Craft saw spurts of blood from many of his friends and allies. They dropped to the ground, dead or dying, as the Imperials readied another volley.

“For Ala Mhigo!” Caius yelled and darted forward, blades flashing as he charged the line. Craft roared and followed his friend, realizing that staying at a distance would not be a benefit. Some others followed, but more fled, down the streets and away from the battle.

Craft fought on, his heavy blade catching a soldier across the soldier and crumpling armour enough to send the man down. A downward thrust to the man’s exposed neck ended him. Another whirled-on Craft and he could barely bring a blade up fast enough to catch the edge of a gunblade. He twisted his sword and managed to pry the weapon from his opponents’ hands, then smashed the hilt of his claymore into the soldier’s exposed face, sending teeth and blood through the air. Next to him Caius was darting between lunges of the Garlean weapons, his own blades connecting with flesh through the exposed parts of the armour. He wasn’t landing devastating hits, but his opponents staggered with a lose of blood. Craft took the opportunity to swing his great sword in an arc, smashing through the staggered soldiers, destroying them. This is how they best worked together, Caius landing quick attacks and Craft devastating the opposition when able. They fell into this co-operation easily, having fought together on a near daily basis since the destruction of their childhood home.

“We’re doing it!” a voice bellowed from somewhere near, but Craft couldn’t pinpoint the location, “We’re defeating the fucking EMPIRE!”

And, for a moment, it felt like they were.

It did not last.

The thrum of Magitek grew, and rockets launched from armored soldiers engulfed the streets in explosions and fire. Imperials and Ala Mhigans both died to this assault, but only the Imperials had reserves that could afford such losses. Craft was blown backwards, tumbling back down the street, his weapon wrenched from his hand. Caius, somehow, managed to avoid the brunt of the explosion and stood standing in the smoking ruin, a solitary figure amongst flames and death. He whirled around, looking for an enemy, an opponent to strike at and seeing nothing.

“Craft?” he called, looking at the corpses that lay strewn and smoking.

“I’m here…” Craft called, struggling to get to his feet, his head throbbed, and his vision was foggy. He bent over and nearly fell again but wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the weapon nearest to him: A Garlean Gunblade.

“Still standing, Cai.” Which was true, but his face was crimson, blood cascading from a wound hidden somewhere under his dark hair, flowing like a gory waterfall.

“Good…” Caius stated, his back to his friend as he watched something emerge from the smoke, “Because I’m going to need your help.”

It took a moment for Craft to focus on the monstrosity that stood Infront of Caius, a giant Magitek Colossus. He had never seen one but had heard others speak of them and the damage they could do. Seeing the first swing of its blade towards Caius, he darted aside. The impact of the blade against the street had cracked the stone sending sharp splinters flying in every direction.

Blinking away astonishment, Craft fumbled with the gunblade and quickly figured out how to fire that damned thing, sending a volley of blasts that seemed to ring off the armour of the Colossus. Seeing how ineffective his attack was, Craft started to close the gap, hoping to allow Caius to flank the giant and hopefully find a weak spot. It worked as the Colossus focused on Craft and made a few surprisingly quick strikes against him, which were barely deflected. Each impact of blade against blade sent Craft staggering backwards, as the machine’s strength far out matched the Highlander’s own.

“Work quickly Caius…” Craft panted, raising his blade into a guard position and catching the downward strike of the Colossus. His whole body trembled at the impact, his muscles strained to hold the blade off, “Can’t take too much of this…”

If Caius replied, Craft never heard it, he instead spun away from another arcing slash of the Colossus, then rolled away from a blow that would have completely torn through him. He paused for a moment to wipe the blood from his eyes, but even that second allowed the Colossus to close the distance and lunge with a strike. Craft was barley able to twist away, and the massive sword sliced through his makeshift armour and tore flesh. He roared in pain and grasped his side, feeling the pulse of blood.

“Craft!”

Caius called out from behind the Colossus and drove both his blades between joints in the machine’s plates, he twisted and turned hoping to find something internally that would break and drop the monster. Instead he soon found himself knocked backwards, his swords so firmly caught in the machine that he was wrenched away and left unarmed. He looked up to see the Colossus standing over him.

“Fuck you. And fuck your fucking Empire.” Caius spat defiantly at the impassive Magitek creation. The Colossus only response was to lower a robotic hand to Caius, which engulfed his head… then lifted and tossed Caius through the smoke and over one of the city walls.

“CAIUS!” Craft bellowed, rising to his feet. He had lost so much in the recent years. Those he considered friends and family all destroyed. Ala Mhigo regained but for a moment before this Imperial attack. He looked upwards and roared, calling up at Rhalgr himself to intervene for this land that had worshiped him so.

No response came, and Craft Ramsay cursed Rhalgr too.

He could hear the internal gears of the Colossus whirl and turn as it stepped towards him; massive blade lifted high to smite this one last opponent.

He should have fled. He should have tried to escape, to meet up with any other survivors and prepare to fight another day.

Instead he charged, gunblade pointed at the Colossus as his fingers squeezed the trigger. Explosives went off with each strike of his weapon against Magitek armour, and he swung and squeezed again. And again. And again. Until there was naught by a smoldering wreckage on the ground before him. He was soaked crimson with his own blood, weak and barely able to stand, but the Colossus had fallen. A victory.

He panted and fell to his knees when he heard the soft sound of clapping behind him.

“Impressive. I think we may have a use for this one.”

Craft didn’t have the opportunity to turn to see who the voice belonged to. He felt something clamp across his neck and he fell into darkness.

[tacticsroom]

Corrin: Wailing Soul (Unit Review)

Available at 5★

Lvl 40 Stats (Flaw/Neutral/Asset)

HP: 40/43/46 Atk: 32/35/38 Spd: 34/37/41 Def: 28/31/34 Res: 23/27/30

Neutral BST: 173

Max Dragonflowers: 5

Skills

Weapon: Savage Breath (400 SP)

Mt: 16. Rng: 1. Grants Atk+3. Grants Atk/Spd/Def/Res + X (where X is calculated based on the number of allies within 2 spaces of unit. 0 allies grants +6, 1 ally grants +4, 2 grants +2, and 3 or more grants +0.) If foe’s range is 2, calculates damage using the lower of foe’s Def/Res.

Colorless Breath. Cannot be inherited. Cannot be refined.

Assist: None

Special: Dragon Fang (200 SP)

Boosts Atk by 50%.

Can be inherited. Cannot use: Staff.

A: Atk/Spd Solo 3 (240 SP)

If unit is not adjacent to an ally, grants Atk/Spd +6 in combat.

Can be inherited. 

B: Sudden Panic 3 (240 SP)

At start of turn, if any foe has 1 less HP than unit and is adjacent to an ally, inflicts Panic on that foe. Bonuses turn into penalties for the duration of foe’s turn.

Can be inherited. Cannot use: Cavalry, Armored, and Staff.

C: None

Analysis

With her draconic power unrestrained Fallen F!Corrin becomes a true force to be reckoned with. Her incredibly high BST and stat ceilings make her a versatile unit that can not only take a significant punch but dish out immense damage herself as well.

F!F!Corrin’s Savage Breath further complements her high stats as it grants her huge boosts to all her stats increasing as the number of allies near her decreases. At neutral and with no allies within 2 spaces, Savage Breath puts F!F!Corrin at a statline of 60/43/37/33 unsupported. Her default Atk/Spd Solo further increases her Atk and Spd by +6. Savage Breath’s condition encourages an aggressive playstyle, throwing F!F!Corrin into the thick of battle alone. However, with the right build and support, F!F!Corrin can easily take the heat.

Dancers/refreshers or units with Smite make great support units for her as they can allow her to cross a greater distance away from her team in one turn. Namely, Mordecai: Kindhearted Tiger is the perfect ally for F!F!Corrin. With Sabertooth Fang, Smite, Atk/Def Link, and Spd and Res Tactic, Mordecai can not only single-handedly grant full +6 buffs to F!F!Corrin but also debuff nearby enemies at her landing point after being smitten. This essentially creates a +10 gap between F!F!Corrin’s stats and her opponents on top of Savage Breath’s bonus, allowing her to wreak havoc on the battlefield while taking minimal damage with absurdly high offenses and defenses. Azura: Vallite Songstress (Legendary Azura) fills a similar role, being the only unit that can increase infantry movement.

Because of F!F!Corrin’s versatility, she favors no boons/assets in particular aside from HP. Her optimal IVs will depend mostly on the chosen build.

Similar Units

Corrin: Dream Princess (41/31/37/32/27)

Corrin: Wailing Soul (+2/+4/+0/-1/+0)

Corrin: Dream Prince (42/35/35/31/24)

Corrin: Wailing Soul (+0/+0/+2/+0/+3)

Tiki: Beachside Scion (40/33/37/32/26)

Corrin: Wailing Soul (+3/+2/+0/-1/+1)

Kana: Dragon Princess (40/30/34/33/26)

Corrin: Wailing Soul (+2/+5/+3/-2/+1)

Builds

Budget/Low Investment

With Corrin’s well-rounded stats and access to breaths she can run a wide variety of different skills and builds to play to different strengths or playstyles. Don’t be afraid to experiment as she can make good use of nearly anything you give her.

The example build on the left keeps Corrin’s default Atk/Spd Solo as it stacks well with Savage Breath’s effect, ideally giving her +12 Atk/Spd on initiation. The conditions for these skills are most easily met in the player phase, so giving her Desperation as well allows her to tear through bulkier units that she can’t kill in one hit alone. Pairing Heavy Blade and Glimmer allows her to fully charge and activate Glimmer every time she initiates with Desperation, heavily increasing her damage output.

The build on the right is geared more towards her balanced offense and defense, using Fury to grant raw stats all around. Fury’s recoil damage can compromise her ability to stay standing, so using Vantage opens up the opportunity to OHKO opponents and thus avoid taking more hits than she would like. With all effects fully active, this build puts her at a whopping 70 Atk in addition to 46/47/43 Spd/Def/Res. Her special can be swapped for Glimmer for more frequent special procs or Noontime/Sol for sustainability.

Corrin’s other Sacred Seal options include Smoke skills, Flashing Blade, Quick Riposte, Stance skills, Darting Blow, Brazen skills, Close Def, and buff skills. Corrin may find it particularly difficult to make the most of buff skills since she will often want to be off on her own, separate from her allies.

Distant Counter Enemy/Mixed Phase

With her dragon typing and incredible stats Corrin makes an excellent Distant Counter user. She’ll make quick work of her foes and tear down any enemies that initiate on her.

The first build uses Null C-Disrupt to further narrow the amount of units that can attack her without risk, namely Dazzling Staff or Firesweep weapon users. Quick Riposte grants her a failsafe if she fails to naturally double and allows her to take a Spd bane with little regret. Because Corrin already has plenty of Atk, using Sol over an offensive special allows her to stand against hordes of enemies even more confidently by being able to replenish her HP, especially as it may bring her back above Quick Riposte’s HP threshold. If Dazzling/Firesweep threats aren’t much of a concern, Null C-Disrupt can be replaced with Quick Riposte to open up her Sacred Seal slot or with other powerful enemy/mixed phase B Skills, such as Wrath. Atk Smoke’s AoE debuff will allow her to take even more hits.

The second build uses Aether and cooldown acceleration to increase both her damage output and sustainability without losing consistency. Once Aether has been activated once it will essentially be on a cooldown of 3 from that point on. She can then activate it in every round of combat by taking one hit, counterattacking with Heavy Blade to fully charge Aether, then proc Aether on her follow-up attack. However, without Quick Riposte, this build will rely on Corrin’s natural ability to double through her Spd.

The last two builds use Lightning Breath+ instead of Savage Breath to free up her A Slot and allow for more traditional dragon tank sets using powerful skills like Steady Breath or Distant Def 4 as shown. Experiment with different defensive/enemy phase skills and see what works best for you as they all have their own benefits and niches.

Player Phase

With excellent offenses especially thanks to Savage Breath Corrin can be used as a player phase sweeper with ease.

The first build is a more traditional player phase set, using Fury 4, Desperation, and Brazen Atk/Def to allow Corrin to hit hard and fast by making the most of Fury 4’s recoil damage to gain Desperation and Brazen’s benefits without having to take hits first. Desperation is the main crux of this build making her other skills flexible. For instance, the A Slot can be replaced with skills like Sturdy Impact, Flashing Blade 4, or her default Atk/Spd Solo. The Sacred Seal can be replaced with skills like Darting Blow or Heavy/Flashing Blade.

The second build uses Corrin’s high Spd to constantly charge and activate Blazing Wind (or any other AoE special of choice) thanks to Flashing Blade and Special Spiral. Once it has been activated once, Blazing Wind will have a CD of 2, which only takes one Flashing Blade-accelerated attack to recharge. Because AoE specials are non-lethal, Corrin will always attack after activating Blazing Wind, essentially allowing her to use it every single time she initiates assuming she passes Flashing Blade’s Spd check. Hardy Bearing prevents Vantage users from retaliating against Corrin in between her activating Blazing Wind and her actual attack. Stacking skills that grant her special charge at the start of battle, such as Infantry Pulse, Ostia’s Pulse, Quickened Pulse, and Velouria’s weapon, Wolfpup Fang, can allow Corrin to spam Blazing Wind from the start without having to manually charge it first.

Smite/Link Duelist

Because Savage Breath’s stat boost relies on being separate from her team, Corrin won’t be able to stack AoE buffs like Drives or maintain visible buffs like Tactics on consecutive turns as easily without giving up Savage Breath’s stats. This build uses Bonus Doubler to make the most of the turns when she does have those buffs, notably from Link skills with the aforementioned Smite strategy.

Using the example of Mordecai and his default B skill, Atk/Def Link 3, if Mordecai uses Smite on a Corrin with Spd/Res Link 3 Corrin will receive +6 visible buffs to all of her stats and thus receiving an additional +6 with Bonus Doubler on top of the +6 from Savage Breath. This setup then grants Corrin a total statline of 72/55/49/48 with an additional +6 to Def/Res if Close Def is active. On top of this any foes within range of Corrin will be ployed for -4 in all their stats thanks to Sabertooth Fang’s -4 AoE debuff from Mordecai. This demonstrates the incredibly high potential Corrin can reach with her high BST and Savage Breath even without merges or dragonflowers.

It might also be worth noting that if Corrin is buffed with a level 4 Hone/Fortify skill and is then refreshed by L!Azura, she will instead have full +7 visible buffs that are then doubled by Bonus Doubler to +14.

[relatablemormonmoments]

Saturday Morning and Afternoon Session Talks

(Note, I listen to Conference rather than watch it, names are probably butchered.)

Ulysses S. Suarez

We need the help of a faithful and inspired teacher, but we also need to teach

Teach your sons and their sons in the ways of the Lord

We need to raise our families in the Lord

Emerse yourself in Scriptures

How do we put principles in the gospel into the actions of our lives?

Actions speak louder than words

Most of our critical spiritual decisions relate to family. (story of a single divorced mother rearing her children)

Mother should guide her children

God wants us back in his presence

Pros: Encourages closeness within our families and with the lord, Encourages us to consider our actions of faith

Cons: The Family A Proclamation to the World, Seemingly excludes those with a poor connection to their families or who converted without their families or whose families have fallen away

Becky Craven

"Happiness, $15" -> cheap trinkets and souvenirs

We as a church are blessed to know how to find true happiness

Car stuck on train tracks-> conductor pulls on emergency break + whistle -> people are able to escape but car is destroyed -> woman watching claims that conductor didn't even try to stop, didn't try to swerve out of the way.

Keep our wheels on the track no matter what obstacles are in our path

Casualness can lead us from the path

World is laiden with distractions, decieving even the elect

We may drown if we aren't careful.

Actions in the "grey" (the "howevers, buts, and althoughs") = "That council does not apply to me"

"If ye love me, keep my commandments"

Doesn't mean being formal or stuffy, but being appropiate

Be more engaged & careful & modest

For the Strength of the Youth applies to each of us (no matter our age, position, or gender)

We need to seek the guidance of the holy ghost

How can we mark ourselves in the Image of Christ?

The world calls us a "peculiar people" which is a large compliment.

We need to widen the distance between ourselves and our worldly influence

Gift of repentance

When you are worthy to recieve personal revelation, you will be blessed and happy

Pros: Gospel is guide to happiness, Doesn't claim that the only way to happiness is through temple marriage, Discusses what leads us from true happiness

Cons: The analogy to a train is nice but doesn't make sense with the rest of her story and implies that there is only one path to happiness, insinuates that temple marriage is part of the path to true happiness, doesn't offer any solutions to avoiding distraction.

Brook P. Hales

God blesses us according to our desires and to his infite wisdom

Scriptures teach us

Lord carefully leads us even if we can't see the results

Lord prepares ways to overcome obstacles before they can occur (Lost Plates and Nephi)

How can God answer us? ->1. Son recieved coat too small, gave it away to another missionary who had been praying for one because he could not afford it (through other people) 2. Joseph (and his coat od many colors) 's brothers sold him rather than killing him, leading to blessings for Egypt and eventual redemption of their family (through.. better circumstances?) 3. Son not hired for dream job, but would have missed a life changing opportunity had he been hired. (Through denying us our wants for eternal perspective)

Patricia Parkinson -> Began going blind at 7 years old, had to go away to boarding school (very home sick) -> Went fully blind at 15, returned home and went to regular highschool-> Eventually gained success at university and in life -> Had a procedure, but came out saying "I'm going to be blind for the rest of my life, I know it, you know it, God knows it." -> Nephew tells her to ask Heavenly Father because Heavenly father grants all of our wishes -> She explains that HF doesn't give us everything when we want it. -> Hales remarks that she's always positive and happy in public but struggles with herself, her disability, and God in private -> she sees that God's hand is in everything

If we keep our commandments, we are blessed by God, even if its not how we expect or want to be blessed.

Pros: Nice approach on how we can struggle with our faith when God doesn't answer us how we want, Good examples of how God does answer us and why he may answer us like that

Cons: Some Ableism in his story about Patricia, simply claims that God will bless us for following commandments

UCHTDORF!!!!!!

Airplanes take 3 hours between Rome and Jerusalem in the present (would take 40 days to travel that distance in Jesus' time)

Even though the church faces persecution, we continue to grow

Put growth into perspective ( A very small flock indeed)

GERMAN SHEPHERD

In some places, the church is shrinking

We must share the good news of the gospel!

How can we fill that great commision in our daily lives?

Share the gospel with friends and acquaintances

Some go out and declare it boldly, others are more hesitant and hide behind the pew when daily missionary work is mentioned, why?

Lord doesn't require expert efforts, but he does require a willing heart and mind

We can draw close to Heavenly Father, Fill our Hearts wirh love for others, and read our scriptures

By doing this we will become better, happier, more authentic

Pros: It's Uchtdorf, Airplanes mentioned, Even small efforts matter

Cons: Airplanes mentioned only once, Encourages a lot of proselytizing in day to day life, Many members are leaving church or going inactive, Really short talk :(

W. Christopher Weidell

His (nonmember) brother (Mike) had Pancreatic cancer, could see the temple from his hospital bed.

Mike became friends with the priesthood leaders, kept askin hc about the church

Mike joined the church and gained strength

Had no pulse when on day gaining Melchezidek priesthood, has pulse as soon as Weidell enters room, he lives to gain the priesthood, but dies 5 hours later.

It takes remarkable efforts to minister

Don't give up on a "Not Interested"-hearts change

Desire tonhelp others achieve deeper conversion

Serving others

Want others to reach divine potential

Sensitive to trials and struggles

We are encouraged to follow the guidings of the Holy Spirit

Trust the Lord

Focus on what's important

It's never too late, you'll never wander too far from the path

Never too soon to extend an invitation

There is always hope

Pros: Heartwarming story about brother, hope if you are inactive and want to come back, hope if yiy have friends or family who have left the church for various reasons

Cons: Influences those really aggressive ministerers to keep going at it, which can weaken someones already weak bond with the church, ITS REALLY SAD, I CRIED OK?

Henry B. Eyring

United as one is the feeling we want in our homes

Families

No contention due to love for God (4th Nephi)

Symptoms of Spiritual Decline TM - How can we protect and increase feelings of love to combat them

Underlying cause=Satan

Reverse spiritual decline in family and in home

Remember the savior as you remember thine sins

Praying as a family brings you closer together

Family who prays together is together, even when far apart

Offer the gospel to your enemies

Examples of Parents

Worry about Celestial Kingdom and the Family Arrangements will be more wonderful than you can imagine

Pros: Talks about strengthening family bonds, NOT ABOUT THE PROCLAMATION TO THE WORLD!!!, strengthen love for God=strengthen family, FOUND FAMILIES? NON NUCLEAR/TRADITIONAL FAMILIES? ?!?!, All you need is love, Love is all you need

Cons: May encourage abusive/extremist parents to shove gospel down childrens throats to "strengthen family" therefore pushing children away

M. Russel Ballard

Can't control what impacts our life, we can control how it impacts our happiness

Do the best we can each day

Heavenly Father loves you

Love God, Love Neighbors

Find peace and happiness in your life

We minister because we love others

Preform Temple ordinances

Keep it simple

Pros: Don't worry be happy, If you follow the commandments you will find happiness, Keep it simple (KonMarie LDS edition)

Cons: The whole we can control how it impacts our happiness doesn't include neurodivergent people, especially those with depression.

Mathias Held

Found a church (ours) where he felt at home

Personal growth, education, humanitarian efforts, self-reliance

Wanted to know everything about the church before joining

Mosiah 1:18

Confident that Heavenly Father would guide him

Through the power of the Holy Ghost we may know all things

Pros: Short and sweet, lists what attracts people to the church

Cons: May make some people in process of conversion feel left out or like they aren't on track/moving fast enough

Neil Anderson

God has given us a way to learn essential truths

See truths of God through the Eye of Faith

Spirit sons and daughters (AND CHILDREN, ELDER ANDERSON! AND CHILDREN!) lived with and worshipped god

We all knew God's plan for us

Prophets see ahead, not only the dangers, but the privileges and blessings

Faith, patience, and diligence

We are all part of a larger family

God will shine his approval on you

Pros: Its about the Plan of Salvation, Eye of Faith, We are all part of a larger family and should strive to help each other, I like the notion that the prophets are also seeing Good things because the world has been very much the bad place as of late..

Cons: I'm pretty sure this is the one where he mentions his LGBTQIA friend who was all like "we need to abandon the ways of the world and thus I be celibate" so... Slight homophobia maybe? I don't know I didn't write it down but a lot of people are bothered by this

Takashi Wada

Overcome darts of the Adversart

True feasting is an experience of joy and thanksgiving

Feasting on scriptures should build our relationship with God

Hearts filled with Gratitude

1. words of Christ increase spiritual capacity for revelation

2. when we struggle with our identity and self esteem, turn to the scriptures

3. live lives of others through the scriptures

A little boy handed Wada's mother a hymn book even though she coukd have easily accessed it herself, an innocent act of kindness he learned through the church and his parents

Hearts burn within us when we read the scriptures

Ye shall have eternity

Pro: This man??? so Sweet??? Hi I love him?, Very innocent stories, very funny.

Con: There is none. Perfect talk.

David P. Homer

"I'm sorry I didn't bear my testimony today, I love you"

1. Critical moments, multiple voices with competing directions, 2. Vital that we listen to the right one

We often focus on what's convenient

Popular =/= best

Mountain climbers' death zone= Spiritual too much time in bad places

Korihor

Impressions given by the Holy Ghost

Seek God's voice

Be doers of the word, not just hearers

Answers can be slow to come

Heavenly Father makes it possible to hear and follow his commandments.

Pro: His opening quote is really cute, Wow this is a call out talk

Con: You may feel called out if you don't follow commandments

Jeffery R. Holland

Adam and Eve closed door to immortality

Help comes from the Lamp of God

Offer broken heart and contrite spirit

Reduce clamor in our buildings

Be mindful of broken hearts and sad spirits around us

No shortage of suffering in the world

Lift load from those who are burdened

Bring tears to the Lord's Sacrificial Altar

Pros: calls people to acknowledge those who are hurt around us, calls people to stop using church for socialization

Cons: What is a Lamp of God?, How can we focus on broken hearts and contrite spirits without hurting them?

[thedcdunce]

Prometheus

“You can look and you can look but you'll never find me. I'll erase you from the pages of history.” - Prometheus

Aliases:

Retro

Gender: Male

Eyes: Blue

Hair: White

Abilities:

Genius Level Intellect

Intimidation

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced)

Firearms

Tactical Analysis

Survival

Equipment:

Body Armor

Computerized Helmet

Cosmic Key

Microscopic Nanobots

Energized Nightstick

Wrist Gauntlets

Universe: New Earth

Citizenship: American

Marital Status: Single

Occupation: Mercenary

First Appearance: New Year's Evil: Prometheus #1 (February, 1998)

Appearance of Death: Justice League: Cry for Justice #7 (April, 2010)

Abilities

Genius Level Intellect: He is a polymath who has specialized in multiple fields of Physics, Biology, Algebra, Technology, English, History, and Religion.

Computer Operation

Electrical Engineering

Gadgetry

Physics

Biology

Mechanical Aptitude

Multilingualism: He is able to speak English, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Portuguese and knows Sign-Language.

Intimidation: He has also seen to be able to instill fear in others and to manipulate them in doing so. This ability was seen when a large majority of super-villains were forced out of fear to help him in succeeding with his plan.

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced): Even without his helmet, Prometheus is proficient in several forms of hand-to-hand combat including Judo, Kickboxing, Boxing, Karate, Capoeira, Silat, and Savate.

Firearms: He has the amazing ability to use almost any common object, such as CDs and pencils with deadly accuracy.

Tactical Analysis: He has created more than 1,000 master plans to escape any situation and defeat any meta-human through planning and preparation and a detailed understanding of the weaknesses and tactics that an opponent is likely to use against him.

Survival

Equipment

Body Armor: The costume is made ​​of a lightweight and durable material, which is intertwined with synaptic relays to increase their formidable fighting prowess and covered with microscopic nano-bites to affect the opponent's brain. The armor is also able to fly through the manipulation of magnetic forces and generate force fields.

Chameleon Device: The device allows him to imitate the voice and facial mannerisms of a person.

Computerized Helmet: Is connected to his brain and central nervous system.

Download Capabilities: Able to download any kind of information into his brain and download movements, mannerisms, and fighting styles into his central nervous system.

Hypnosis: By flickering the lights at a rate of 10 cycles per second, he can induce hypnosis.

Neural Chaff: Given off by the helmet, neural chaff disorganizes thought processes. It interferes with brain electricity.

Memory Enhancement: Enhances his short-term memory.

Pain Killers: His helmet releases endorphin to take care of any pain he feels.

Cosmic Key: Possessed the key to The Ghost Zone that only he could use, allowing him teleportation abilities via another dimension as well as a hidden extra-dimensional base. It can also be used to inflict total molecular disintegration of a target.

Microscopic Nanobots: Attacks central nervous system, infecting the brain of a human and/or metahuman through electronic impulses, causing the individual to lose control of his abilities for 5 minutes.

Energized Nightstick

High Hit-Impact: Able to destroy boulders and anvils with a single light strike.

Computerized Reprogramming: capable of hacking and alternating internal electronic equipment.

Wrist Gauntlets: Fires and/or launches different kinds of ammo and artillery.

Molecular Toxins Dart: Attacks morpho-plastic nervous system. It gives complete spastic paralysis. The victim doesn't have any control over their physical structure. It stops his molecules from forming polymer chains. This effect turns the victim into a puddle and can last about an hour.

Mini-Rockets

Incendiaries

Grenades

Unique Bullets: Special bolts created by Vulcan/Hephaestus that were sold to him by Mercy Graves and're capable of inflicting great damage even against Martians & Kryptonians.

History

The man that would become Prometheus was the son of two loving, hippie criminals who traveled across the United States with him. They committed indiscriminate murders and thefts, often of a brutal nature. Eventually, they were cornered and forced the police to gun them down in front of their son, whose hair turned white from the shock. That night, he swore an oath to "annihilate the forces of justice" after escaping from the police station of his parent's killers by pretending to be one of a group of cub scouts touring the station. His true name has not been revealed.

Training

Prometheus obtained large sums of money both from his parents' hidden stashes of money and by extorting local mob bosses and contacts using his knowledge of their criminal activities. Leaving home at the age of 16, he used his money to travel the world in order to develop the skills he would need. His activities during this period included training as an underground pit-fighter in Brazil, working as a mercenary in Africa, joining terrorist guerrilla groups in the Middle East, studying silat under masters in the jungles of Malaysia, associating with the wealthy social elite in order to learn their secrets, and attending only the finest in legitimate academic schools and universities.

Eventually Prometheus found the legendary Himalayan city of Shamballa, inhabited by a sect of monks who worshiped evil itself. Studying with them, he eventually became a favorite of their leader, who showed him their greatest treasure: an alien spaceship upon which their ancient monastery had been built. The leader then transformed into one of the aliens who had first landed there, and Prometheus was forced to kill him to obtain the key to the what Prometheus dubbed "The Ghost Zone", an infinite expanse of white nothingness that was supposedly the space between dimensions.

Prometheus eventually returned to the United States and went on a killing spree where he shot and killed all but one of the police officers who murdered his parents along with their families, so the one could share the pain of being a survivor of a massacre of loved ones. He eventually decided to kill the entire Supreme Court, but relented when he discovered the Justice League and decided they would be the pinnacle of his targets against dealers of justice. Prometheus would eventually build himself a small, lopsided wooden house in The Ghost Zone along with his first costume and helmet to download information into his mind and advance his technology. Here, he was free to build up a resistance to heroes such as the Justice League of America, unhindered by Earth's authorities or heroes.

Strength in Numbers

Prometheus made his move against the Justice League with the intention of destroying them and the justice that they stood for. By doing so he lured and attacked a contest tour winner of the JLA Headquarters named Retro and took his identity before murdering him to gain access to the Justice League Watchtower on the Moon and almost single-handedly took down the League: He shot the Martian Manhunter with a dart that turned his shape-changing power against him after setting him ablaze; infected Steel's armor with a computer virus which commanded the suit to damage the Watchtower; hypnotized the Huntress into unconsciousness, attacked Green Lantern with a "Neural Chaff" that rendered his ring useless, trapped the angel Zauriel in the Ghost Zone, tricked the Flash into believing that he had planted motion sensitive bombs that would explode if the Flash used his powers; he defeated Batman in hand-to-hand combat with the aid of a device that downloaded the skills of the thirty greatest martial arts masters in the world into his brain and a pair of lights on his shoulder that blinked in an erratic pattern to cause disorientation.

At the time, the Watchtower was filled with innocent civilians that the League had invited for a tour. With the Watchtower under his control, Prometheus then demanded that Superman - the only hero he could not defeat - commit suicide in exchange for the lives of the hostages, sacrificing the two things which he presumed would matter to Superman: his image and his reputation. However, Prometheus's best laid plans were laid to waste by an unforeseen variable: the anti-hero Catwoman, who incapacitated him with a simple whip crack to the groin. Having sneaked onto the Watchtower disguised as Cat Grant looking for things to steal, Catwoman's intervention bought Steel the time he needed to beat Prometheus' virus and, in turn, override Prometheus' helmet. Prometheus then escaped to the Ghost Zone.

Injustice Gang

Prometheus later returned as a part of the second Injustice Gang created by Lex Luthor. He was able to use the Ghost Zone and a White Martian spaceship left over from the Martian Invasion within it to infiltrate the Watchtower. He almost killed Oracle by defenestrating her when she refused his deal of wanting her to betray the JLA in return for being able to walk again. Oracle managed to survive by grabbing the hand on the face of the Clocktower, simultaneously damaging Prometheus's helmet.

He then had a final rematch with Batman who had, in the meantime, managed to unlock the secrets of Prometheus' helmet. Batman replaced the martial arts skills Prometheus had downloaded into his mind with the physical skills and coordination of Professor Stephen Hawking, a famed scientist with Muscular Neuron Disease that rendered him a drooling catatonic. Later, Batman was forced to intervene in order to prevent Huntress from killing the helpless Prometheus, firing her from the JLA in the process.

After the defeat of Mageddon, Batman and Martian Manhunter conceded that no prison could hold Prometheus, so they placed him in a psychic loop to imprison his mind, trapped in his own memories. In this state, he was sent to Blackgate Prison. Martian Manhunter kept him in this state for the rest of his life to be tormented by the prison staff. During this time, Prometheus' "identity" and all his equipment was used by his protegé, Chad Graham. Upon Martian Manhunter's death at the hands of Libra, Prometheus regained control of his own mind and broke out of Blackgate after killing the guards who tormented him. Enraged that his successor hadn't tried to rescue him and ruined his reputation by making him look foolish, he tracked Graham down and killed him along with several members of the Blood Pack.

Cry for Justice

Prometheus blamed the Justice League for the years that he spent with his damaged mind and sought revenge. He instigated a global crime wave that saw the deaths of Freedom Beast, Gloss, Tasmanian Devil, and Sandstorm of the Global Guardians as part of a distraction in order for him to infiltrate the JLA satellite and place teleportation devices in the home cities of various heroes which will "strand" the cities in various places in the past and future. In the process, he maimed Roy Harper and single-handily defeated the JLA until he was subdued by Donna Troy.

While being interrogated by the JLA, Prometheus offered to reveal the locations of the devices and deactivate them in exchange for his release. After one of his devices severely devastated Star City and inflicted millions of fatalities, including Roy Harper's daughter Lian, Prometheus' ultimatum was reluctantly met to save the cities. After Prometheus returned to his lair, he is ambushed and killed by Green Arrow, who shoots an arrow through the villain's head.

[tushieblurbs]

Title: OPERATION TEDDY GET TOGETHER

Description: This is your finest moment, soldier. You will accomplish the biggest task of your career or die trying. You have prepared your entire life for this single instance--You will not fail her.

It was that time of the year again.

Jamil had noticed the slight shift early in the morning after waking up. While doing his usual scouting for potential threats or hazards, he heard the distinct sound of his Master. It wasn’t just any sound however, it was one he detested...

It was the sound of Master crying. Softly, perhaps just a few sniffles, but to his well trained ears he could not mistake it. She was experiencing unpleasant emotions, on a rather unpleasant day of the year for her. Of course, that is not to say Jamil didn’t understand the feeling either... While it may not have been entirely similar to her own plight, the feeling he experienced on this day was nonetheless sour. 

It was for that reason, Jamil had prepared to ensure he would be of use for his Master on a day where it would matter most.

He had asked here and there, inquired as to the circumstance--From his understanding, they had been great warriors of the Sky that roamed it as fierce warriors before settling down. But as it so happened, something unfortunate befell them early on in Master’s life. The matter, circumstance, or flavor of that tragedy did not matter. What did matter, was that it impacted Master negatively and in a way Jamil himself could understand.

Peeking from around the corner, carefully and silently, he eyed his Master from just around the corner as she looked off the side of the ship--Looking off into the great blue sky with light tears on her face, sniffling softly. She was on a secluded part of the boat, perhaps for privacy or a desire to be left alone today... But Jamil could never allow that to be solely the case. He watched her intently, heart aching at her sorrow. He frowned, before slinking back to put his plan into action.

First off, he had to ask for help from someone he could trust in such matters.

--

“So... Dancho is upset, isn’t she?” Narmaya said softly, placing her hands firmly on her lap as she stared back at the young assassin with a stern look on her face. “Thank you for telling me about this, Jamil. I will be happy to help you with this. This area might be outside of your own expertise... But it’s something I think we could both be wonderful at for her.”

“It’s the only course of action we have to take.” He replied with a seriousness in his voice he typically lacked, his sharp eyes staring back at Narmaya’s concerned face. “I’ve long prepared a secret weapon for this very moment... They should be arriving shortly. I have no doubt we can accomplish this.” 

Narmaya closed her eyes, and brought a single hand up to hold it over her heart--Her own heart twitching at the idea of her dearest Dancho being sad, let alone thinking they are alone in such feelings. What sort of big sister could Narmaya consider herself if she let this continue interrupted..?

Before Narmaya could dig into those feelings, the door to Narmaya’s quarters opened up--And with it, came the clank of heels. Narmaya’s eyes opened wide, surprised at who just walked in. Jamil only glanced back, his sharp eyes meeting the determined ones of the person behind them both.

“I apologize for keeping you both waiting,” Sandalphon said, shutting the door firmly behind himself. “I have successfully distracted Dancho, and they will be busy with Lyria for the rest of today while we enact our plans. She will warn us when Dancho is arriving later today, so let us make haste.”

With the plan in action, three unlikely allies would soon began their most dangerous, foreboding, and perilous adventure yet...

--

“What!? Jamil, I said to add 2 cups of sugar to the mix!” Sandalphon groaned, wiping some flour off his nose.

“I apologize, Sandalphon. The measuring cups are perplexing as they are enigmatic... I underestimated their abilities yet again...” Jamil replied, eyeing the 2/3rds cup of sugar warily. “You will not impede me again, foolish plastic.”

“What are you...? Don’t threaten the measuring cups you idiot!” Sandalphon quickly snapped, pulling it away just moments before Jamil made contact with one of his daggers.

“Now, now!” Narmaya interjected, reading the cooking book carefully. “I do think it says to add that much sugar for... this!” Pressing her finger up against the image on the book, Narmaya attempted to prevent the feuding lads from interrupting this cooking escapade any further.

“I thought we agreed upon making Dancho special cookie crumble cakes, made with chocolate...?” Sandalphon replied, rolling his eyes at the lack of progress the three had made in over 40 minutes. “I could have made three pages of sweets in the time we’ve spent looking at the book alone!”

Jamil however, seemed to be absorbed in preparing the icing. He had quickly discovered he quite enjoying stirring bowls, a minor, yet useful tool in his arsenal as far as he was concerned. A tedious task as this would be become tiresome otherwise--But yet again in the pursuit of being useful to Dancho he had discovered a new skill. Grow more he could, perhaps even further...

“I think you’re right... We should focus.” Narmaya spoke allowed, turning a few pages back to the choco cookie crumble cake with extra whipped cream. “She said she loved these... We can do this much, at least.” 

“Read me off the directions, I shall prepare the base ingredients myself.” Sandalphon said, rolling back the sleeves of his shirt as he readjusted his apron. All three had decided to wear them to minimize mess--Narmaya had insisted on them matching their dispositions, so Sandalphon was forced to wear a simple pale yellow one with a little chickadee on it. Jamil had chosen a light purple one, adored with paw prints all over it. Narmaya had gotten much more exotic--Choosing a hot pink apron that was covered in lipstick marks.

“Right! Let’s see here then!” Narmaya eyed the book intensely, reading it with a newfound sense of courage and strength. “Jamil, keep stirring the whipcream!” Jamil nodded in response, already stirring enthusiastically. “Sandalphon! We need around 30 cookies crumbled and prepared!” In response, Sandalphon darted to the other side of the kitchen. Grabbing a small potato masher as he began to work away at the bowl of cookies. 

“Nothing will prevent the Head Primarch from fulfilling this one selfish wish...!” Sandalphon shouted, finally getting back into the groove of things.

“This whipped diary will never prevent me from making Master’s dreams come true!!” Jamil said along with him, whipping hard enough that a small dollop of it landed on his nose in response. This would not stop the boy however, as he merely ignored the light scoop of white fluffiness and continued to diligently prepare the cream.

“And I shall beat the eggs until they are perfectly fit for a dough!” Narmaya shouted out in response, her butterflies magically forming as she mentally prepared herself. “Not only that, I shall ensure we all will bring Dancho the best surprise she could ever wish for!” Disappearing in a flash, Narmaya appeared at one side of the kitchen to the other. Accomplishing multiple smaller goals as her Big Sister Instincts began to empower her in full. 

Within a flash, all three finally got their shit together. The united front of their passion igniting an inferno that would surely not result in failure, regardless of the outcome...!

---

20 minutes later, and all three had failed spectacularly.

30 minutes later, and all three stared at the sheer disaster the kitchen had become. Dumbfounded as to how they ended up this way.

“We’ve...” Sandalphon gasped out, defeated being painted his sneering face.

“Been...” Narmaya sniffled, still whipping off flour and eggwhites off her cheek.

“Defeated...” Jamil finished, arm aching from over 2 hours worth of mixing.

Sandalphon, pulling up a nearby chair, sat down in it as he let his head hang back. 

“They come home in no more than 15 minutes.” He let his shoulder sag as the failure of being unable to provide his Dancho with a suitable surprise finally began to hit him... Narmaya joined him, pulling up the chair next to him as she sat down. Head hanging low as she let the lacking display of her Big Sister Aura punish her.

Jamil however, stood strangely silent as he tried his best to consider a back up plan... They had to do something for Dancho. Something, anything to show their appreciation for her... Something to make her smile again, when she desperately needed it...

Then it hit him. Lightly bringing his fist down in his palm, Jamil hurried over to the two sulking companions of his.

“Meet me out on the deck, I know what we can do. I’ll tell you when we get there!” With that, he hurried out the door of the kitchen, letting the confused samurai and Primarch raise an eyebrow at his sudden enthusiasm.

--

Letting out a tired sigh, Dancho tiredly walked up the ramp that led up to the ship. Behind her, Lyria trailed behind pulling out spines from one of the many monsters that decided to randomly appear and ruin their little outing. Vyrn was exhaustedly flying behind them both, seemingly lost in his own tired world as he looked ahead. 

Lyria, finally plucking out the last of the pines out of her Bear Captain’s skirt, lightly applauded herself--Before worriedly scanning the deck for whatever Jamil had told her to keep Dancho out for the day so they could prepare... But to her surprise, she quickly found the three standing figures of Narmaya, Jamil, and Sandalphon. Each with their hands before their back, seemingly waiting for the tired Captain.

“Scar, wait...!” Lyria cried out, tugging on the Bear’s skirt to fruitlessly try stopping the Bear from just sulking away to her bedroom. In response, Scar stopped and turned to glance back at Lyria confused, but soon quickly took note of the three waiting crew members. 

Quickly reading the mood, Vyrn took began to push Scar along with Lyria towards the trio. Whatever it is they had planned, it had to be good, right?

Sandalphon was first, taking a step forward as he smiled at the amusingly shorter Dancho. 

“Today is a day of great trials for you, or so I’ve heard...” He began, getting down onto one knee as he reached out one free hand to grasp the Bear’s. “So I would like to give you a reason to continue smiling, even if it is small.” With a gentleness that was considerably surprising, he leaned in to lay a soft kiss onto the back of her hand. Before pulling back as he revealed what his other hand was concealing; A small cupcake, lightly covered in powdered coffee. “This is a small gesture, but allow it to be a gigantic statement of your importance to me, Dancho.” 

Said Dancho, now burning up considerably, accepted the gift as Lyria and Vyrn  both patted her on the back. Narmaya took this as her cue, and soon stepped up next. Scar, turning to face her, braced herself for what the draph had prepared...

...And was instantly greeted with Narmaya huge, soft, lovingly round breasts being smooshed up against her own as Narmaya hugged Dancho tightly. Pulling her into an strong, safe, and most importantly squishy embrace.

“You’re so much more important than you know... So, I did my best to prepare you something that was equally special.” Pulling back from the hug, Narmaya smiled innocently as she let the squishing of her tits against the Bear’s own reveal the small box of delicately wrapped sweets peek out from between her breasts. “You can grab them yourself~! I rather keep hugging you!” Now borderline foaming at the mouth, Scar reached a hand up to pull them out gently. Before opening them up to reveal; A single chocolate bear, smelling of light cream!

Jamil, silent as ever, approached Bear-chan from behind. Hands behind his back as he patiently waited for his Dancho to get his fill. After Sandalphon pulled the whining Narmaya off her, anyway... 

Turning to face the assassin, Bear-chan was taken back once again as Jamil reached for both of her hands, letting both Vyrn and Lyria grab both of the prior presents as he looked down at her hands with a strange look of softness.

“These hands of yours... They’ve done things you regret, haven’t they?” He questioned, seemingly asking not only a single person. “Regardless of if they do things you continue to regret... or even hate, I want you to know something.” Turning up to look at her in the eyes, he returned a gaze that looked of nothing but pure love. “I’ll continue to value you, and these hands of yours, Master. I’ll continue to cherish not only you, but the time we spend together... So please, allow this one selfish wish of mine to make you smile succeed.”

Reaching into his back pocket, Jamil pulled out a small box--Lightly crude compared to Narmaya’s, but no less worked on diligently. He unraveled the ribbons adoring the, to reveal the equally crude looking cookie. One of a Bear, and a kitten with a hood connected by a heart.

“I did my best for you, Master. We all did. I hope that regardless of how harsh the world might seem... You’ll remember it’ll be worth it, if for nothing else, so you can be reminded of how much we love you.”