#i just watched it from a dirt pillar and shot arrows at it while it ran around. it was pretty weird.

[wormthing]

ravager appreciation, tsuchinoko real, & a warm congrats to 2 villagers who got married ::-]

[inkandpen22]

Otherworldly Kings and Queens (2/?)

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader / Prince Caspian x Female!Reader  

Warning: mild mentions of violence 

Word Count: 1.8k

Part Summary: Y/N and the Pevensies search the surrounding cliffs and they start to piece together what happened since the Pevensies leaved. Then, someone is nearly attacked... 

A/N: As requested, I’m releasing one more part today! In the next part Y/N meets Caspian!!!! Get hyped! 

Masterlist

After our antics on the beach, the five of us hike up the cliffs after Edmund spotted some old runes he mentioned not remembering. Peter holds my hand the entire way. One, because when does he not frankly? Two, because I don't keep my eyes ahead of us as I'm too distracted by everything around me. I've never seen any place Narnia! There's so much untouched land, for as far as the eye can see! I've lived in London my whole life. There's constant noise and good luck finding a patch of grass that isn't a park. I had only ever been to the ocean a handful of times and it never looked like this one. The water is so clear and crystal blue! Also, I swear I saw an actual mermaid tail flick up through the surface at one point.

"So you really don't remember these?" I question, referring to the runes. 

"Not from what I can recall," Edmund pants ahead.

Once we finally reach the ancient-looking stone structures, we all start to wonder about the place individually to figure out where we landed. Peter and I, however, remain together and stroll about. Trees and bushes of various kinds have grown over the rubble. It's must've been centuries, perhaps even thousand of years, since this place was inhabited.

As Peter climbs to the tallest point to get a better look, I pick a bright red apple from its branch and toss it to Lucy with a giggle. I stroll over to the edge of the platform that overlooks the western coast. Scattered bits of green covered land streak the horizon. Whoever lived here was lucky, they had the most incredible view! The sunsets must be unparalleled.

"I wonder who lived here?" Lucy questions beside me.

"I think we did..."

I glance over my shoulder and Susan holds up something in her hand. I narrow my eyes at the shiny object and I go over to join her.

"Hey, that's mine!" Edmund announces as he takes the thing from Susan. "From my chess set!"

"What chess set?" Peter interlocks his hand with mine once he reaches us.

"Well I didn't exactly have a solid gold chess set in Finchley did I?" Edmund sasses, examining the piece.

"It can't be!" Lucy runs off, shocker.

The four of us follow the youngest swiftly to catch up. It annoyed me when she would run off in London and I know that city like the back of my hand. If she continues to run off in a foreign land... okay, so I don't know what I'm going to do, but I sure won't be happy about it!

Lucy takes Peter's hand and starts to escort him up a platform. I slip my from his, which earns me a subtle glare of annoyance. I snicker as Lucy aligns Peter in a specific place. She sets each of her siblings in a spot, clearly onto something. 

 "Imagine walls," she instructs. "And pillars there!" She points before stopping in her own place on the far side. "And glass roof!"

I observe the four siblings lined up a few feet above me on the platform. I start to see what I think Lucy is envisioning. The pile of rock behind each of them, they're remnants of thrones! I look to Peter and he's starting to process it too.

"Cair Paravel," he concludes with a solemn expression.

We continue searching the once glorious palace that Peter vividly described to me countless times this past year. Peter is understandably crossed and has grown quiet. All I can do is continue holding his hand and rub my free one on his arm comfortingly. I hate not being of more use in figuring out what happened here. In my defense, I've never been to Narnia before.

Edmund jogs ahead and kneels beside a boulder. "Catapults," he mutters.

"What?" Peter finally breaks his silence.

"This didn't just happen," Edmund determines. "Cair Paravel was attacked."

After a moment, Peter marches off with a stern expression. Silently, he takes me along with him on his march without slowing down. Lucy and the others follow, just as confused as me. Clearly, Peter knows where he's going and is on a mission to get there. I would ask him where exactly our destination is, but I prefer to keep my head.

Abruptly, he stops in front of a tower-like structure. He releases my hand and starts to remove brush from the building. Edmund helps him press against the stone which eventually shifts to reveal a worn wooden door with a lion engraved on the handle. Peter picks up a rock and starts to go at the wood panels. The door breaks and gives way to expose a dark stairwell leading down. I glance over at Lucy and Susan who simply watch their brothers act. Evidently, they must remember this place too.

Peter rips the bottom of his shirt and starts wrapping it around a stick he’d picked up. "Don't suppose you have any matches, do you?" He checks with his brother.

Ed starts to dig through his bag. "No, but would this help?" He reveals his torch.

The girls and I giggle. Of course this would happen.

"You might've mentioned that a bit sooner!" Peter laughs.

Ed starts leading the way down the stairs. Peter gestures for his sisters to go then holds out his hand to me. He follows behind me down the grumbled stairs. I'm really trusting these four not to get me killed, aren't I? The three ahead of Peter and I and hurry around inside. 

Sunlight pours in from skylights and my eyes land on four golden trunks are line up perfectly in a half circle.

"I can't believe it," Peter expresses as he appears by my side. "It's all still here!"

The three younger Pevensies start to search through their old trunks while Peter and I examine the dusty treasures that have been knocked around from the attack. Peter picks up what appears to be shield and blows away the dirt that hides the giant lion face on it.

"Was it your's?" I ask over his shoulder

He hums, holding it out for me to see better. "Many years ago..."

My eyes flicker up from the shield and land on a marble statue ahead. The figure appears so familiar, yet how would that be possible?

"Wait," I step forward to study the face better. "Is this you?" I point.

"Yes," Peter laughs, placing a hand on my lower back gently. "Again, many years ago. I was older then."

I shake my head in awe, "yeah, no kidding."

"Here Y/N!"

I turn my attention to Susan and she tosses me a royal blue velvet gown. "You can borrow it," she grins. "It'll help you blend in."

I hold up medieval style dress in front of me. The only time I ever imagined myself wearing something like this was for Halloween.

"Take this too," Peter hands me a dagger from his trunk.

"Why would I need a weapon?" I frown. 

"Not every creature in Narnia is necessarily in favor of us," Edmund snickers, glancing between his siblings.

Peter rests his chin on my shoulder as I examine the red leather handled dagger in my hands. "It's alright," Peter comforts with a whisper in my ear. "I'll keep you safe... promise."

"I could I at least have a real weapon?" I request, laughing lightly. "If I'm going to be in real life threatening situation, I prefer to have a weapon that doesn't require me to be mere feet from my opposer!” 

Peter snickers, collecting items to change into. 

"I might as well kiss my life goodbye,” I add under my breath. 

"I got this katana as a gift from the Emperor of the Eastern Desert Lands," Edmund offers.

"What's that?" I've never heard of it before.

Ed removes the sword from its sheath with a whoosh as I cross the chamber to him. Its curved, thin, long, blade would be perfect. I graze my finger tips across the shining blade, in awe of it.

"I did research on it when we returned to our world. It's native to Japan, amongst the Samurai," he explains, placing the sleek black and gold handle in my hand.

"Hey! Hey!" Peter appears at my side in a blink. "Careful!"

"I got it! I got it! Don't get your knickers in a twist," I tease. I turn hold the sword up right to admire the blade closer.

"You could get hurt with that." Peter still worries.

"I could get hurt by someone attacking me too," I sass, lowering the weapon to address my friend. 

His eyes meet mine, filled with annoyance. He wants me to simply agree with him all the time. 

I smile, "wouldn't you prefer I have a sturdy way of defending myself?"  

"I think your words and wit would be enough to frighten them," he smirks.

"You charm me,” I blush. 

"Always do," he winks, taking the katana from me before someone gets hurt. "You can get it back when we leave. After that, I want it in its sheath unless absolutely necessary! I mean it, Y/N!"

I watch him slip the blade back into its leather casing cautiously. I place my hand over his to gain his attention. 

"You may be the King of Narnia, but you forget I'm not one of your subjects," I mock playfully.

"You're right," he agrees surprisingly. Gently, he picks up my hand and places a kiss to the back of it. Then, his features turns serious. "But while you're here your safety is my responsibility."

I roll my eyes, I hate how he patronizes me. One would think I'm one of his little sisters too with how protective he can get. Actually, he's less overbearing toward his siblings, even Lucy and she's significantly younger than me! With my luck something bad will happen, I will be away from Peter, and then what? I will be left with the dagger toy he gave me. As soon as I get that sword in my hands, I'm not giving it back. I'm just going to have to prove my capability to Peter.

___________________________________

Okay, so Edmund was right, some creatures don't like us! A black bear quite literally attacked Lucy! Fully charged at her and was going to eat her as a midday snack! That was until the DLF shot it with his arrow. DLF as in “Dear Little Friend.” His real name is Trumpkin, he’s the dwarf we saved from some Telmarines. Telmarines are apparently from another land in this world. They're human like us, but not friendly! I repeat not friendly!

Peter quickly grabs his little sister and pulls her to safety by me. I take her into my arms and comfort her as she cries. 

"I thought you said the animals could talk?!" I scream at Peter, rightfully distraught. 

"They can! I mean... they could..." Peter stammers, evidently just as lost as me.

“We... we just killed an innocent bear!” I stumble over my words. “We took an innocent animals life!”

“Innocent?! He was going to kill Lucy!” Edmund justifies it. 

“Y/N’s right!” Susan defends. “It clearly didn’t know any better!”  

“It was probably hungry!” Trumpkin shouts over all of us arguing. 

“Great! That makes me feel so much better!” I shout at the dwarf. 

"You've been away for a while... ” Trumpkin grumbles bitterly. 

He pulls his dagger and stabs the bear. I cover Lucy’s eyes so she doesn’t see the horrid sight. Peter notices me grimace and guides my face to hide in his chest. 

Was the stabbing really necessary?! It’s dead! 

“I think you'll find Narnia is a more savage place than you remember,” Trumpkin adds. 

"Oh lovely!" I sarcastically remark. "Looking forward to it!"

"Just stay close to me," Peter instructs, keeping one arm around me and the other around Lucy. 

"Don't have to ask me twice," I mutter, utterly afraid. 

Narnia is supposed to be this fairytale lovely land! There are pixies and stuff here! Where are the dancing trees?! Where are the people made of flowers?! I envisioned Neverland and I got a fence-less zoo! 

_______________________

Tags:  @hyperactiveravenclaw @rangergranger11​ @blackbirddaredevil23​

Masterlist

[mimiplaysgames]

And There Are Storms We Cannot Weather (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Terranort x Anti-Aqua Rating: M Word Count: 3,303

Summary: Terranort baits her into following him—straight to Castle Oblivion.

Read on AO3

A/N: First fic of 2021 and I had to give it to the dark OTP. I spent weeks insecure about this chapter, but it’s thanks to @lyssala​ for reading through it and assuaging my fears. This is honestly the end of... the easiest part of this fic ljgfjlgfjfklgj I’ve really got my work cut out for me. Thank you all for your patience, feels like it’s been a while!

~*~*~*~*~

My Worst Brings Out The Best In You

Waking up is nothing like how she remembers it to be. Soreness ruptures her back, and her skin jolts as she peels off of knuckles of stone that dug in all night. She barely remembers if she dreamt. What she really can’t recall is if there’s such a thing as a refreshing morning. 

To top it all off, her ass is numb. Aqua groans when she stands up, stretching as hot gusts blow into the cave, throwing dust to her legs, caking the armor, nudging the shadows as they stir. Besides the wind rolling pebbles along, there’s no noise to enjoy in the Badlands, all the sun glaring down on bleached red sand.

The first thing she does is not breakfast (she must), nor a wash (she should), but to close her eyes, reading darkness. Maybe he woke up, too. 

He did.

He’s here.

Aqua shushes her Heartless. They’re squirming, reacting to the way her heart is pounding. At the mouth of the cave, Aqua surveys where she should go. The Badlands splay out with endless sunlight, no shade to cover her except for a passing dust storm. It’s not a view she’d share with anyone; it’s the worst place to sneak around. She’d be like a marker with a giant arrow, her shadow stretching to grotesque proportions depending on the way the light hits her.  If she’s going to titter around this exposed, she’d better make it count.

She starts by running then she fades away into clouds of smoke, magnetized to the nearest cool spot beneath a plateau, a stark, black slice across the dirt. Here she’ll recover and look for a different spot. As long as it heads in the same direction. 

It’s after the third resting place, a tunnel cutting through a mountain, that she notices she’s heading towards the Graveyard. Well, if she heads west she’d reach it. But her gut feeling—a twinge in her nostrils—veers her slightly north. When Aqua steps out amidst a precipice, she spots a gathering of oddly skinny rock towers stretching to touch the sky. No natural force could have made them.

On each of these towers stands a cloaked figure. Different heights, different hierarchies, with hearts inexperienced, lost, angry, bored, apathetic. There’s one with a third mind. Regardless, they all reflect the image of an old man somehow, like a plague they’ve infected themselves with. 

Ah, there he is, wearing black like all the rest. 

She inches closer, melting into a shadow cut off by a boulder, peeking over the edge. On the tallest tower is someone she hates to recognize. The only one without a hood. Bald. Old. Breathing with the excitement of a bully crushing dirt into another child’s hair. He’s about to land something big and Aqua knows what it is but she doesn’t care anymore. She just wants him dead for stealing.

Xehanort waves a hand and Aqua ducks back. He couldn’t have seen her. 

But when she risks a glance, most of the figures burst into a fire of purple and black, disappearing. 

Except for the only one she wants, of course.

In the end, it doesn’t matter if they knew she was there. Aqua thrusts forward, gliding over the sand, flying up parallel to one of the rock towers until she gracefully floats back on her feet at the top. 

He stands across from her, a field of what looks like ruins in the distance behind him. He takes off his hood and draws a proud smirk on his face.

“I’ve proposed they take care of you,” he says, proceeding to undress his gloves one finger at a time.

It’s a funny way of saying he asked them to get rid of her, and maybe Aqua should be nervous about it, but she tells herself that she can handle twelve nameless men. That is, until she thinks about their empty spots in this ritual circle.

Is this supposed to intimidate her? She has to hand it to him, he’s got spine. “Looks like they left you to do it yourself.”

There’s a flash—a knot at the edge of one eyebrow—of a shot of rage, like he’s about to chew her head off. Then he flashes teeth. He smiles too much.

“Then we shall begin,” he says, rolling his shoulders. “Mind a detour?”

Energy sparks at the tips of her fingers, readying a Keyblade but she stops short of summoning it. A detour? He’s not making a move. Aqua leads a staredown, watching for signs of what he’s plotting.

But he doesn’t plot. He steps backward off his pillar with that ridiculous gremlin smile as if to let himself fall. An inky doorway swirls open and swallows him whole. 

Aqua bursts across the chasm, throwing herself into the same portal. She won’t lose him this time.

She lands on a muddy, brittle pathway suspended in the air, where clouds blot the sky so there’s no horizon to see. She lands on what could have been where she first conjured her very own Rainfell. Where she slapped Terra in the face that one and only time. Where she made love to him, where she picked up her Master’s abandoned Keyblade for the first and last time—it’s all erased here, ground and packaged into a single path where even the mountains eroded to dust. It’s worse than the Badlands. It’s home. 

The castle stands in the same condition she left it in years ago: painted the color of stale, crusty shit and topped with a bright turquoise roof, like a surprise gift to give your worst enemy. Warped with upright towers, towers that jut out to the side, and towers that hang upside down, it’s disjointed and bizarre, a puzzle with mismatched pieces forced together. Which is exactly the point: let the intruder wander, let him be lost, let him forget and enjoy the oblivion. 

He has thrown away his cloak at the entrance of the castle, Terra’s armor adorning his left arm. He has his back to her but there’s a tension in his shoulders as though he’s pretending not to notice she’s behind him. 

There’s one reason, and one only, why he’d bring her here. Aqua readies the Keyblade.

“Like an animal,” he quips. She can imagine him snickering. “Always prepared to deal the first blow.”

She strikes. He dodges. She’s right—he is snickering, making a show of gripping the door handle like bait asking to get caught. “Stop,” she hisses. Which is stupid. Of course he wouldn’t.

Of course he’d turn the handle. Of course he’d glance at her, tilting his head as an invitation to come inside with him. 

“You don’t have the right!” she yells.

He laughs, leaving the door open for her. 

Terra. She could lose him today, forever. If they spend hours wandering the rooms of this castle, they’d lose memories with no way to predict which ones go first. The painful? The nostalgic? Either way, there’s no such thing as Terra and Aqua holding hands if they are gone.

Aqua tackles the front door before it slams in her face. It’s heavy, resisting her at first before swaying momentum and throwing her off balance. Instead of a grand entrance hall with a proud foyer, luscious stained glass displays, mirrored marbled stairways, and a warm hello, it’s just one room. 

An empty blank room, so clean that she’s the stain, framed by polished sculptures and a rose dais she doesn’t recognize. It’s not like she had a design in mind when she transformed the castle. There’s no memory of where this came from, no record of it ever written. Not even from Eraqus, who had an idea and not a clue. She takes one step; it echoes like a screech. The white on white on white glare back. The walls stand like sterilized canvases, starched for a bleed of whatever color in exchange for a few of her thoughts. They know. This isn’t home. There’s nothing here. Just him.

“Lest you forget, this was my home, too.” He smiles.

Aqua nearly spits that it isn’t, wasn’t, never will be, but that isn’t true, is it? He’s pleased with himself, leaning on the door on the opposite side with his elbow propped up as though the castle is a casual friend he’s embracing.

“Now, isn’t this exactly where you would prefer me to be?” he asks. 

“Acting like an idiot?”

“Somewhere familiar. Old family. Fond memories. A place to call your sanctuary.”

She shrugs it off. “Not much of a spectacle anymore.”

His eyebrows worm one by one. He’s lucky he has Terra’s face, otherwise she’d shave them. “But a spectacle worth revisiting.”

“There’s nothing left,” she snaps. “This place is empty.”

He strokes a finger on the door, a gesture that is halfway between Is that so? and Not so fast. “Except one room.”

Hunger churns in his eyes and she’s uncomfortable with the way he’s looking at her, like he’s about to drag her by her ankles. 

“Don’t bother asking. It’s not like you’d ever see it,” she says.

His nostrils flare, surveying disgust as he scans the room from floor to ceiling. There’s a ferocity there, an ignition of something ready to deteriorate. Aqua settles for what’s coming, claws extending as they fasten her Keyblade. If she tears flesh today, so be it. It will only be a little. 

How he gets himself to smirk the next moment is a secret she’d have to learn. “Then a bargain. The Chamber of Waking, and I won’t harm him.”

Aqua grunts and cuts an arc through the air with her Keyblade, firing a sphere of energy dark enough to absorb light. He blocks it with a wave of his hand and he chuckles like there’s not a day worth living if you’re not close to dying. 

Summoning his giant Keyblade, he swings back, rupturing the tile beneath him as it cracks and crumbles towards her. She dodges, but an explosion bursts from beneath and knocks her off balance. As she turns over to stand up, he’s already looming over her. 

They’re in a tight space, the walls knitting together and forcing them to take intimate strikes and forgo the fancy spells. Tinks and shears and blasts echo as though one hit is actually three, the sound of their blades bashing against each other. Her Heartless can’t form a congregation here. He doesn’t bother with his Guardian either, too cumbersome and clunky to maneuver inside.

He’s slower than her, but the close proximity means she’s running out of space to dodge his wide reach. Every hit he throws is the force of a boulder destroying a mountain as it avalanches, testing her balance, stealing the seconds that she needs to steady herself and parry the next. 

She readies a spell. He blows the tile beneath them, an earthquake tripping her feet.

Every curse she scrambles with—a Sleep, Confusion, anything to throw him off—does nothing, as though he’s feasting on her efforts. She should’ve known better.

It’s fine. Aqua’s tough without her Heartless, tough without needing to trust anyone but herself. Glowing with an icy hotness that burns like frozen snow on exposed skin, she’s about to multiply—

“You will not,” he says.

He pummels into her like a canon, his armored hand around her throat as she collides back onto the door behind her. Not the front door, no—she’s foolish and distracted enough not to notice that he’s been circling her in this small, square room. He’s pinning her against the other, the one that would lead to Ven but wouldn’t. It creaks under the weight of her body and the pressure of his strength.

“I could lock you up in this purgatory,” he whispers, his breath brushing her cheek, her nose, her lips. Smiling. “Or you could take me to him.”

Aqua pants, her fingers scratching the surface of the door. The thought of being left behind—

Like choked breath, she stops the moment she sees the proud expression on his face. 

It’s a bluff.

Calm down. He wants to scare her. It’s a bluff. 

He needs her to get inside regardless, even if he doesn’t know everything. That you need the Master’s Defender at all is a secret only shared with those who wield it. He wouldn’t know. Despite how desperately she wants to dig her way out, Aqua keeps her chin high, staring him down. She scoffs through her nose. 

His eyes twinkle as he reads her. Aqua tries not to lead him on with any assumptions. Keep it stoic.

But there’s something about the way she’s doing it that’s betraying her. She’s failing with every second that he blinks. “Ah,” he cooes, “you do not have the means—”

Claws into flesh—she pierces his wrist, right through the leather in between the metal, and he yelps. Pulls off of her. She closes the gap with black fire and cold fingers and the intent to rip an iceberg in half. He has his arms over his head, his Keyblade forgotten as he pathetically defends himself against a rabid monster flailing at him.

All she sees is the opportunity to take back. Priming a sharp hand over his face (and at such the perfect angle to peel it off his skull), she lunges forward and pins him under her. Reaches to his waist. Pulls the orange Wayfinder out of his pocket.

He yells and throws her off of him. His pupils shrink to nothing, his Keyblade burning with an unnatural color. He’s clutching his chest as though his heart is pounding too quickly and is about to plop dead. Aqua is on her knees, the Wayfinder’s chain threaded around her red knuckles.

Move. She needs to move while he towers over her, a trickle of drool seeping from his lips, his white hair messy. He’s manic, searching her and searching the floor and searching the walls, moaning. Aqua has to move. Aqua sits frozen. 

Has he forgotten where he is? 

Is this… 

She whispers his name, barely audible.

For a moment, he stares past her. He growls and throws himself on her, the back of her head hitting the floor. Pupils so small his eyes are golden orbs, two little false lights in the dark, tempting you to go deeper into the fog where a monster waits. Like the Guardian’s, watching her take her last breath underwater. As though he knows no weapons, or no magic, he squeezes a fist around her hand, his fingers prying the Wayfinder out of hers with such strength that he could amputate them. Aqua chooses her fingers and lets go. 

Once he has it back in his possession, he stumbles off of her, heaving and hunched over. With the Wayfinder to his chest, his pupils slowly grow back. Brows knitted, lips quivering, eyes lost. That’s not a face Xehanort would make. 

Then he runs. He bolts down the terrace, disappearing in a cloud of smoke, leaving Aqua on the floor, leaving the doors open. Terra’s body is traveling like a shooting star. She can feel it propel somewhere in the far sky, where the stars hover above the clouds. She could follow him, fight more and more and more until she drags him to the ocean kicking and screaming and losing.

But it aches.

But she’s tired. She’s fought, and they’ve matched the same games over and over, with nothing to show for them except sore throats and scratched cheeks and defeated bodies slumped over floors like they weren’t dignified Keyblade wielders but wronged children.

It aches. It aches more than anything the Realm of Darkness threw at her, as though a hollow has cracked inside, collapsing her lungs into a pit of gravity and threatening to take the rest. If this is how it feels to be human again, why bother going back? What good is it to pretend that fate is kind and hearts are strong and one day he’ll realize what just happened and wake up with his blue eyes?

Instead, she should try to find Ven on her own, without her Master’s Defender. Her heart will lead the way, let her keep her memories. Or she’d lose it all, walking in circles, be the ghost that haunts this castle and create a legend that will keep her name immortal. It’s a stupid idea.

Aqua rolls over to her side, the tile underneath jutting into her hips and ribs. The doors he left open frame the outside, a dry and empty nightmare. She misses the sound of pattering, the smell of moisture, the promise of green every year. The Land of Departure certainly had its dreary days when the clouds were thick, but the light never dimmed. It would rain and all would be clear, the raindrops bulbous as they pummeled and exploded into miniature puddles.

Maybe the reason why the dirt is so rancid here is because rain never fell on Castle Oblivion. If she and Terra were caught under an onslaught, they’d continue to par. Water never stopped her flow and he couldn’t be bothered to slow down. 

There was one obnoxious day when Terra grabbed her elbow and dragged her to the front porch, just under the awning in an effort to keep dry but it was futile—they were still pricked by frigid droplets. Beneath the rain, his blue eyes were less noticeable. His dark hair weighed heavy but it was thick enough to perk up if with less gusto. He smirked at her, and she knew what it meant.

She smacked his arm while he glanced through the entrance as he watched for signs of someone coming. If the Master, they’d be in trouble. If Ven, they’d have to suffer relentless teasing, and maybe pay off his blackmail. 

When Terra was sure no one would see them, he went for it in spite of her whispered giggles and hushes. A warmth on his lips that burned on hers when the rest of her was cold, drenched, and shivering. 

I wanted to know what you taste like in the rain. 

He had tasted like water, a spring from the mountain.

She was close to Terra today. She’s sure of it. 

Tied to her sashes is her blue Waydfinder in immaculate condition, glass stronger than metal with a vibrance that’s foreign to her. 

It sits in her claw, blood red framing its brilliant shine. She’s done so well not to stare at it every time she felt nostalgic, but here she is now: a damn mess, with scales that cover skin, rough and pointed at the tips. Cold with layers of calloused leather that never molts unless she tears it off, building on top of her knuckles that folds as she retracts her claws, like there’s something slithering beneath. Her hands are now beyond repair, so thick that she’s unable to feel what she touches. 

I’m ugly, she realizes, keeping her claws contracted so they don’t scratch the surface of her Wayfinder. It’s still pretty. 

Dull stars float down to the entrance of the castle. Not stars, but a plethora of orbs, pairs of them as her Heartless pile on top of each other and funnel inside, squirming themselves free. It would have been easier for them to make a line. They’re silly, sometimes. 

Something small butts its head into her—the six-year-old, scratching the tile as it makes space up against her belly. It lets her wrap her arm around it. Another Heartless nuzzles up to her chin. One sits at the crown of her head, and another nestles at the small of her back. More tack on, forming a seabed to let her rest. 

It would’ve been lonely otherwise. The night seems flippant now, impatient for the sun to come up in a world where it can’t shine. 

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 18- Mind and Body

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU and Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

After the success of their first day among the elite, a new dawn rises and the hermits continue to prove their worth as a guild and as wizards. From the distance, however, people are watching the hermits much more closely than just if they win or lose.

____________________________________

Somehow, the hermits were in the lead. By the end of the first day, they were leading the boards. Even though they lost the pageant and footrace, their domination of the quick draw, the sea race, and Tango’s evening flight race has them ahead. Behind them, the other two nonguild teams were tied for second. The points from there on were a mess between the guilds.

It was an underdog story for the ages. Three ragtag teams leading the Chimaera’s Championship. Guilds will train for years to win even a bronze medal in the games. They select their teams from only the best, never ceasing to push their limits. And yet, nothing can compare to the determination and skill these outcasts held. Even the hermits had to admit, Team Crafted and the wanderers were strong. But more than that, they were both a team. Just like the hermits.

“I’ve got this, guys.” Iskall laughs, twirling a rod of iskallium in his hand. “These mega guilds won’t know what hit them when they see my sharpshooting skills.”

“I mean, we are winning right now, but...I really wanna win them all.” Mumbo’s had a taste for competition, and now he wants more. “But I’m not so worried about the guilds as I am the other teams that are tied.” 

Iskall looks over his shoulder, seeing Avon observing the distance between where she stands to the target down the field. “I think she’s all bark and no bite. I’m gonna show everyone the power of iskallium after today.” 

“What kind of mage even is that?” Mumbo questions, noticing the massive black wings on his opponents back. “Is that like Ren’s misfired werewolf mimic?” 

“Nah dude, don’t you know anything?” Iskall spikes his iskallium rod into the ground. “That’s a draconic mage.” 

“Are they rare? Like...rare as Grian’s sky angel magic or my multi-magic?” Mumbo has never heard of a draconic mage, though he never really learned things like this from his parents. His mood immediately sours at the thought of them. He hopes they’re not here, watching. Or does he? 

“Eh, in a way. Not quite like you guys. It’s more of a… finding the right teacher kind of problem.” Iskall sees Mumbo’s confusion only grow. “They have to learn from dragons, dude. Not exactly the most trusting beasts, those big lizards of doom. But don’t worry about that- it’s not like you’ll have to face anything like that.” 

“Good luck, Iskall.” Mumbo whispers, retreating as the event starts. He was the only hermit willing to wake up this early for the event. Most are still somewhat drunk from celebrating their victories yesterday. No one imagined they’d do this well. Though, a few were dizzy, and Tango even struggled to get out of bed. 

One by one, down the line, wizards use their magic to strike the target. Everything from flecks of dirt to pillows shot at the haybales. One art mage even draws up their own arrows and sends them flying. Some strike near the bullseye, others don’t even reach the target. It was a close match for the former. The drawn arrow was almost perfectly center, just millimeters from landing a perfect score. 

Iskall knows he has to be better. He gets three shots. Three tries. His emerald eye flicks across the field, measuring the distance between himself and the target. Three shots and he’ll win. He feels the wind in his hair, blustering for a second and ruining a shot of the person next to him. Three shots and he’ll prove he’s a mega sharpshooter. 

It’s his turn. He draws out his rod of iskallium, his own element of creation. It’s radioactive, but he’s immune to it. He can feel the power, the energy within the rod. Energy he plans to use to make a clear, perfect shot. He reels his arm back, and throws the first rod. As soon as it’s airborne, he releases a burst of radioactive energy from the projectile, sending it burying into the target. A near perfect hit. 

His next shot is almost identical, though the wind as his rod nears the target pushes it slightly off center. His shoulders sag, a weight pressing down on him, pressing in on his lungs. As long as he doesn’t miss the center ring, he’s got the event in the bag. 

He doesn’t miss. Iskall offers a coy smile beneath his beard, though inside he’s freaking out. He’s currently winning a championship event. He stays calm, but in his mind he’s already celebrating. Doing his own little dance in the sand at his feet. 

Until a barb whizzes down the field, burying into the center ring. He opens his eye, staring at Avon beside him. Her eyes are trained on the target, like a predator stalking it’s prey. Her wings are slightly ajar, counterbalancing her weight from throwing the poison barb forward. She straightens, another projectile appearing in her fingers. He can see purple toxin dribbling from the tip of the barb. The gaze never falters, determination locking her in. She twists around, launching the barb like an arrow in the wind. It digs into the hay-filled target, the larger base of the barb brushing against her first target. 

“No...way.” Iskall whispers. The wind picks up. Surely that will mess her up, right? He was Iskall, deadeye of doom. Nothing can stop him. The last barb flies in slow motion, her throw slightly curved against the wind. Letting the breeze push it to center. 

The tip of the barb splits through the first shot. A perfect bullseye, not once but twice. Iskall has no ability to be bummed that he only got silver- that was mega awesome. Avon seems calm, collected even as she receives her medal, albeit tired. Exhausted physically, but never betraying what she’s thinking or feeling. 

Mumbo and Iskall are still talking about the sight when Grian and a few other hermits join them in the stands. “So, how’d it go?” Grian sings, trying to be as bouncy as usual despite sleep still holding his eyes. He notices the silver medal hanging off Iskall’s neck. “What?! How’d you only get second? You’re like...the best shot i’ve ever seen, Iskall.” 

“Those three wanderers, bro. I’ve never seen a least conspicuous group ever...but wow.” If it wasn’t for their lack of members, they’d give the hermits a run for their money. At least they have that going for them. “So G-man, you ready to prove your true talent?” 

“Flying? You bet.” Grian flicks his arms out, and his angelic blue and white wings unfurl from nowhere, appearing like clouds in the sky. “That pageant was just a warmup.” 

He hops onto the railing of the seats, before taking off into the air. Flying among other winged wizards, the hermits can already see his mastery of the sky. On the ground, Etho is warming his muscles as obstacles rise above the stadium. Pillars and rings teeter into the sky, caves and ravines digging in the ground, the dual events taking place at the same time. Neither Etho or Grian were the only nonguild wizards- Ecto is back, snacking on a cactus as she watches the course construct before her. In the air, the basilisk mage, Ty, is testing his wings against his short, lanky body. 

“I don’t know who to watch!” Mumbo whispers, glancing from one course to the next. A firework crackles in the air, and in both the sky and the sand wizards take off. Across the obstacle course. 

“You watch Grian, I’ll watch Etho.” Iskall chuckles, observing as the shadow ninja disappears through a shadow, reappearing in the lead. He bounces off a wall, dropping onto a raised bar and flipping across a pit of acid. Who even made that pit? Seems dangerous. But danger means nothing for Etho, and his incredible agility across the course. 

Mumbo is biting his lip, watching as Grian brushes against a pillar of stone in the sky. Grian’s flying is risky, even in the best of times. The amount of heart attacks Grian gives his best friend on a normal day is spectacular. Today is even worse. He loses a year of his life watching the sky angel plummet from the sky, wings snapping open just in time to fly through a ring, pulling into the lead. Mumbo swears he can see a blue feather sheared off Grian’s wing as his friend squeezes between two rocks. 

“Oh no, not again!” Iskall’s groan turns Mumbo’s attention to the ground. Ecto and Etho are both at the finish line, huffing and puffing as they clasp hands and congratulate one another. Mischievous eyes glimmer and grin, sharing quips and laughing. The two look at the other contestants, but based on Iskall’s outburst Mumbo knows who won. Again. 

“Grian’s winning though!” The two look up, a shadow passing over their seats in the crowd. He’s got a heavy lead, while Ty and a gryphon wizard battle for second. Ty takes the lead, his scaly wings fluttering in the wind and ducking low to go under a blockade. The guild mage flies over, swinging his arm. Magic shoots out, aimed directly at Grian. 

“Is that allowed?” Mumbo gasps, standing up. Grian’s almost at the finish line. He can’t let himself get hit by whatever spell the mage just cast. 

“Go Grian!” Iskall shouts. “Watch out!” 

Grian looks back, eyes widening as the golden magic hurdles his way. He’s so close...he’s not going to lose this. Grian curls his wings, tightening them against his body. He plummets from the sky. Wind whistles across his ears, feathers fluttering and the ground quickly rising up to meet him. But so is the finish line. A blast at his back pushes him into terminal velocity, the guild wizard’s magic blossoming into an explosive barrier. He needs to open his wings, to slow down. But he’ll become a target. So what does he do? 

He closes his eyes. And crashes into the ground. Bouncing off the grass and hurtling over the finish line, Grian wins first place. Blood and bruises quickly appear on his skin and face, but he’s conscious and sitting upright as the coliseum erupts into cheers. Iskall and Mumbo only sigh. For the healer of the guild, he gets himself hurt more often than anyone. 

Once on the sidelines, Etho helps Mumbo wrap bandages around Grian’s wounds. Mumbo shakes his head, prodding a bruise. “That was totally an illegal move, that explosion.” 

“The guilds are pissed that we’re winning.” Etho hums. He tries to manipulate a shadow to cover him against the sun, but frowns when his magic refuses to appear. “You should’ve heard the wizards in the agility course. They think we’re cheating. They don’t get how a bunch of misfits are winning in almost every event.” 

“It’s just cause we’re that much mega better.” Iskall chuckles. “They don’t have the awesome teamwork and diverse wizards like us.” He leans back, watching Joe standing before a sphinx. It’s the riddle event. “Maybe if they stopped worrying about money and status they’d do better.” 

Grian hisses in pain, only for Etho to hush him. From the field, the sphinx stalks Joe. “I am alive, but without breath. I am as cold as life in death. I’m never thirsty, though I always drink.” The feminine voice purrs from the sandy skin of the sphinx’s human face. Feline haunches roll and rock under feathered wings and fur, but Joe only looks to the sky, his glasses hiding the emotions in his eyes as he thinks. “What am I?” 

The hermits hold their breath, watching Joe in the lion’s den. His lips curl up, and his clasps his hands behind his back. “You’re a fish.” 

The sphinx pauses, then dips her head. “Well done, poet. How about this? What can you break, even if you never pick it up or touch it?” 

Joe snickers. “Easy, a heart.” 

“How very poetic, Joe of the Hills.” The creature pauses directly in front of him. “But not what I was looking for.” Teeth snarl and claws glisten, and the embroidered fabric of Joe’s cape is flung across the field, glasses clattering to the side. The hermits collectively wince, even Grian feeling the ache in his bones that Joe will feel come tomorrow. “The next contestant. Ian.” 

The engineer mage bounces to the mark, completely unconcerned by the vicious lion-bodied creature before him. He wipes his brow, leaving a trail of black oil across his forehead. “I’m ready for whatever you got, miss sphinx!”

“Hmm, alright then.” She chuckles, sitting on her haunches. A lion’s tail, with feathered tips, flicks like a clock against the grass. “What can bring back the dead; make you cry, make you laugh, make you young; is born in an instant, yet lasts a lifetime?”

“Memories!” Ian quips, grinning proudly. “Let’s see if you got any better.” 

The sphinx growls. “Alright, engineer.” She offers another riddle. And another answer. Iskall leans forward, biting his lip. The current leader has only two correct answers- Joe and another wizard were the only ones clever enough to come up with correct answers with enough time. One final question. And one final answer. The sphinx stands up after Ian responds, shoulders rolling. “Congratulations, Ian of the Crafted. You have won my challenge.” 

“At least it wasn’t a guild that won. I don’t think we’ve heard the end of it.” Mumbo whispers, sitting back. Grian winces, pulling his arm against the sling it’s in, to which Etho swats him to keep it still. 

“Stress is next!” Iskall grins, exciting to see his friend perform. Stress chose this event herself, and no one dared question her claim. And as she stands among the other wizards, she’s easily the most out of place. Surrounded by large men and mages of strength and muscle, many hardly wearing much more than whatever their guild deems necessary and often glistening in oil, Stress crosses her legs and pats the warm material of her ice blue dress. She casts a quick spell, and her short brown hair caresses pale cheeks as an icy wind cools her down. Iskall leans back, shaking his head. “She’s going to freaking crush this.” 

And crush it she does. No one, not even the audience is prepared to watch the short, dainty ice wizard lift more weight than any oiled, burly man around her. Her magic, and her own strength, easily lifts the shelled form of a tarasque, a hydra, and a baku in one wall of ice. Not just lift the still living creatures, but doing so with enough care that each beast is left unharmed and even cradled by the ice rink beneath their feet. As soon as the creatures are back on their feet, Stress is immediately cooing- ignoring her gold medal in lieu of praising the hydra’s many heads for all their work helping her win. 

Truly a strange mage for the strength event. 

__________________________

“Are you sure they’re not here just to compete? You really think they’re here to...stop him?” A black cloaked figure whispers, eyes following the ice wizard as she skips to her friends. From the nosebleed section, the brothers can hardly see each individual person. But the hermits are easy enough to pick out. They stand out, unlike the other guilds. Each person with a unique outfit, unique features. 

“If I know my brother, he can never take anything sitting down.” Red fabric moves as the white haired wizard talks, sharp eyes never leaving their target. A mask like that can be seen from a mile away. “And his friends aren’t much better.” 

“They’re incredible!” The third figure, clad in a white cloak to hide his mop of rainbow hair, stands to get a better look. His friend grabs him by the arm and pulls his rear back to his seat. “These people are the true heroes we nee-”

“Can’t you be quiet for a minute, loudmouth?” His brother seethes, glancing at their contact. They’ve only just met him today, despite being in contact for much longer. 

“I don’t know if I’d call them ‘heroes’, but they’re all Lairyon has.” The contact pulls his cloak’s mask up over his nose, tugging on the long white hairs stuck in between. 

“A ragtag team of criminals, rejects, and outcasts is the only hope for Lairyon. Great.” The black cloaked brother huffs, setting his head on a propped up hand. 

“How much different is that from us- or, I mean, the crown and his advisor?” The white robe lowers his voice after his brother slaps his arm, sharp gaze daring for him to try that again. “Lairyon needs light to return, and I think these hermits are exactly what we need.” 

“I hope you’re right, your majesty.” The contact tugs on his long white ponytail. “They’ll need more help if they expect to survive. Which is why I came to you.” 

“Well, let’s get started?” The three stand up, disappearing amongst the crowd. There’s a few people they’ve seen on the field who can help the hermits. Help from afar- as Ex always does.

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 85

Warnings: You already know

Rating: SFW

You, Vanitas, Celina, Xemnas, Roxy, Yui, an Sora had arrived the Tower of Endings, where Riku, Mickey, Ansem, and Rumi. 

“Oi!” Celina said. 

“About time,” Riku said.

“Sorry! It’s not our fault that the Organization took forever to get passed!” Roxy said. The ground shifted ahead, casting dirt into the air on a strong wind. Young Xehanort, Anti-Elena and Anti-Muki appeared ahead, walking toward them as Master Xehanort watched from a high tower of rock.

“Muki! Where’s Kairi?!” Sora said as he ran ahead of Riku, readying his Keyblade. 

“Wait! Is she in trouble?” Riku said. 

“Yeah, Muki took her,” you said. Anti-Muki smirked, only fueling your and Sora's anger. Master Xehanort chuckled from up above.

“Settle down, my precious daughter,” he said.

“I am NOT your daughter!” you growled. 

“The thirteen darknesses and seven lights have clashed nine times, yielding these nine keys.” Xehanort waved an arm with a wild glint in his eye. Out of thin air, nine Keyblades, identical to his unnamed weapon, hovered around him.

“Do you think we care?” Vanitas asked. 

“We are four short... But those four keys will be produced here and now.”

“Yeah, sure. And what makes you think there'd ever be any way we'd help you with that?” Yui said. 

“You forget I plan for every eventuality.” 

“Kairi!” you and Sora gasped. Ansem stepped forward.

“If you do summon Kingdom Hearts, we will defeat you, and we will close it again,” he said. 

“Perhaps. That is...if you survive that long!” Xehanort smiled. Anti-Muki, Anti-Elena, and Y!Xehanort readied themselves for battle.

“Guys, come on!” Mickey said. You and the girls summoned your guardians and you all charged into battle as Young Xehanort transformed his Keyblade into a whip. Anti-Muki hung back as Anti-Elena summoned a group of orbs that shot arrows at Mickey, Rumi, and Ansem. The three of them dodged as Young Xehanort went after you, Vanitas, Celina, and Riku, who used a Dark Firaga spell, which scattered, homing in on the three foes. Several hit their target, before Young Xehanort blocked the rest. The three of them reeled back and teleported in unison. Master Xehanort waved his hand and a snake-like swarm of fallen Keyblades flew through the battlefield, sending up dirt into the air. The Keyblades separated you, Celina, Vanitas, and Sora from the others. 

“Guys!” the four of you yelled. Throughout the swirling vortex around the four of you, the swarm of blades attempted to strike you four, but you all dodged their attacks. Y!Xehanort appeared in the fray, casting a blue symbol onto the ground.

“That's checkmate!” he yelled. 

“We’ll see about that!” you yelled back. Y!Xehanort hit the four of you with his long whip, causing your visions to cloud, and launched the four of you in the air. Anti-Muki spun in, bashing the four of you with her fire bullets like spokes of a wheel. Anti-Elena cackled loudly from amidst the area, erupting in a burst of dark tendrils.

“How the wielders weep for you!” Xehanort said.

“Would you shut up?!” Celina yelled. The storm of Keyblades broke through once again walloping the four of you before the haze cleared and the four of you were reunited with the others. Young Xehanort shot icicles at you, Celina, Vanitas, and Sora as Anti-Muki struck Xemnas, the twins, and Mickey with her fire bullets. Riku, Rumi, and Ansem attempted an attack on Anti-Elena, but she hovered far above the ground while on Anti-Nyx.

“Burst!” Anti-Muki shouted. She released four energy bullets that hit the ground around you and the others and enlarged, knocking you all into the air. Anti-Elena glowed with a red aura.

“Surrender to it!” she yelled. You and your team felt a tug as you all were pulled closer to Anti-Elena as the red aura glowed brighter. When you and your team were within range, tendrils of darkness exploded from her body.

“Desist!” she yelled. A protective barrier erupted around Anti-Elena and she hovered menacingly near you and Sora, who were forced to dodge roll away. Mickey attacked Anti-Muki while Young Xehanort thrashed Riku with his whip. Anti-Elena surrounded herself with dark mines, which crackled with red electricity.

“Embrace the dark!” she shouted. A dark shadow followed you, Celina, Vanitas, and Sora along the ground and at Anti-Elena's command a giant claw emerged, missing the four of you by a spiky hair. Mickey kept Young Xehanort at bay while Riku, Rumi, and Ansem rushed Anti-Elena until the Lady fell. 

“I reach for...the darkness...!” she groaned. The final bell has rung for the self-proclaimed Wind Spirit. She clutched her chest as it was expunged from her. She hunched over, staring at her hand, watching the small traces of darkness flicker away, feeling the Negaverse trying to fight for control. 

“Elena!” Ansem said as he ran to her. 

“No...please. Don’t come any closer,” Elena whimpered as she fell to her knees. Ansem didn’t listen and held her weak body in his. 

“Elena, I know you’re stronger than this. Please, come back to me,” he said. Elena summoned enough strength and kissed him passionately, causing Xemnas to cover Rumi’s eyes. Elena and Ansem felt their bond return to them and the Negaverse was finally defeated, leaving Elena as her regular self. They broke the kiss and rested their heads together. 

“Hi,” she whispered. 

“Hi, angel. I missed you,” he whispered back. 

“I missed you too. Wanna take down the crusty bastard together?” 

“You know it.” The two of them stood up and the battle continued. Anti-Muki hovered in a circular motion around you and the others, conjuring up spheres of energy, which unleashed a barrage of bullets that honed in on you and the others. She managed to deflect most, but not all. Mickey aimed a burst of light magic from his Keyblade at her, stopping her attack, as Young Xehanort struck Riku, Elena’s family, Celina, and Vanitas with his whip. Fire crackled in the palms of Anti-Muki’s hands and she kicked Mickey and her family in retaliation. You and Sora bashed her with the Keyblades, but cut through her like air, and the image of Anti-Muki froze. Suddenly, she spun toward Xemnas from her right, catching him off-guard. Leaving Young Xehanort for a moment, Riku changed his target to Anti-Muki and joined Xemnas, Roxy, Yui, and Mickey in a dual attack. Whirling through the air, you all pummeled the Queen of the In-Between with continuous spinning attacks.

“What?” she whimpered. The great swirl of darkness pierced the sky above the Organization's Queen. She looked down at her hands, the darkness being licked clean off of them.

“X-Xem...” she whimpered. Xemnas rushed over and caught her before she could hit the ground. 

“Hey, I’m here,” he said softly. 

“Please, get it out of me.” 

“I know, I know. Do you trust me?” 

“A-always.” Xemnas crashed his lips onto hers and from the power of their bond, the Negaverse had finally ended its torture. 

“How’re you feeling, love?” he asked. 

“Better. I have a surprise for you,” she smiled. Xemnas looked at her confused and she put a finger to her lips.

“I’ll tell you later,” she said. Xemnas chuckled and helped her up and the battle continue once more. 

“Don't blink!” Y!Xehanort yelled. 

“Grr, just shut up!” you, Vanitas, and Celina growled. Y!Xehanort raised his arms, summoning diamond-shaped shards of ice which flew through the air towards you and your team. Mickey attempted to intercept but Y!Xehanort ensnared him with his whip. You and Sora quickly blocked the ice shards with your Keyblades as Riku knocked Xehanort back, freeing Mickey. With his associates down, even with his powers over time, was brief.

“So this is where my role ends...” he said. The darkness lifted off of Young Xehanort as he fell to his knees laughed.

“What the hell is so funny?” you asked. 

“I told you. There's a high price to pay for all of this,” he said. 

“And what price would that be?” Sora asked as Y!Xehanort stood back up.

“I'll go back to my time, and live out my life. But Sora, you're done now,” he said. You and your team were stunned. “Your journey ends here.” 

“What?” you and your siblings growled. 

“Good-bye, my children and Sora. Your time...in this world is--” Roxy handed you her gun and you shot him as he vanished to the winds. 

“Heh, I like you,” Muki said. 

“Here’s this back,” you said to Roxy. Roxy smiled and took her gun back. Three additional keys had joined the nine replicas encircling Master Xehanort.

“Twelve keys we have now. Leaving just one more!” he said. He summoned his Keyblade, raising it high. A blue orb appeared from its tip, which he then launched into the clouded sky. The world rippled and a light peeked through the clouds, shining down on him.

“Shit!” you, Celina, and Vanitas breathed. 

“Now, Sora, (Y/N). Darkness and light's final clash,” Xehanort said. The clouds swirled and parted slowly. You and Sora gasped as Kairi floated up beside Master Xehanort, who laughed softly.

“Kairi!” you and Sora cried and the two of you began to run toward the pillar of rock. 

“Guys!” your friends shouted. 

“You require motivation,” Xehanort said. You and Sora leaped onto the side of the pillar as Kairi's comatose body hovered in front of Master Xehanort. He reached back with his blade and bludgeoned her full on the back in one swift stroke. She glowed pink and her form shattered, disappearing in a fracture of light.

“Kairi!” you and Sora screamed. Unable to blink, you and Sora raced atop the pillar swinging your Keyblades at Master Xehanort, who blocked with his own.

“Why her?!” Sora asked, angrily. Master Xehanort knocked the two of you back and the others watched as you and Sora tumbled to the ground behind them. Tears fell from your and his eyes as the two of you looked back up to Master Xehanort from the position on your knees.

“Why?!” the two of you sobbed. 

“I have done it,” Xehanort said. 

“Xehanort!!!” Xemnas and Ansem shouted. They rushed up the pillar just as you and Sora had done, but were held back by the thirteenth replica Keyblade which materialized in front of Master Xehanort and proceeded to swing them away as well. The two of them screamed, falling back down the pillar.

“Dad!” the girls screamed. 

“Xemnas!” Muki yelled.

“Ansem!” Elena yelled as well. 

“You'll pay!” Mickey said. He jumped to the top of the pillar and aimed his Keyblade at Master Xehanort.

“Ultima!” Mickey yelled.

“Stopza!” Master Xehanort held his hand out in front of him conjuring a dark wind. The Spirits tried to attack him with their powers but he deflected them, causing them to land on the ground hard. With magical runes surrounding you all, the two spells collided, with Xehanort's sphere of stopped time growing to encompass Mickey and Riku. The blast of wind rippled through you, Vanitas, and Sora's hair as the three of you saw your friends frozen in place.

“Your Majesty! Riku!” Sora yelled. Master Xehanort smirked as the three of you moved to pursue him, but with only a few steps taken, were surprised by the replica Keyblades appearing behind the three of you. They knocked the three of you down as Master Xehanort turned toward the others.

“Now...the Keyblade War will finally reach its conclusion!” he said. He rose into the air with the thirteenth key rejoining the others. They floated around him as the great yellow moon of Kingdom Hearts shined in the sky. He basked in its glow, the culmination of his life's work now in the eleventh hour. He raised his Keyblade, which glowed and became a new weapon made of two crossed keys, the Chi-blade. He marveled at its brilliance.

“The Chi-blade is complete,” he said. You and the others watched from below, unable to stop him. “Kingdom Hearts! I call upon your true form. Open now and show me the World to come.” 

“We’ve lost...” you mumbled. Xehanort aimed the Chi-blade at Kingdom Hearts and a violet beam erupted from the blade. It struck the moon and wreathed it in dark flame, eventually turning it a deep shade of purple. The horizon turned a shade of pink and rays of light peeked out from behind Kingdom Hearts. You, Vanitas, and Sora, still on your knees, felt crestfallen. Donald and Goofy arrived, placing hands of comfort on Sora’s back.

“Hey, don't give up,” Donald said. Goofy grabbed Sora by the waist and helped him stand up, while Celina and Roxy did the same to you and Vanitas.

“We thought ya might be able to use a couple a' more quarters,” Goofy said. 

“And besides, Spirits stick together,” Roxy said. 

“And so does family,” Celina said. They smiled at you, Vanitas, and Sora. 

“Typical. You can't do anything without us,” Donald said. Sora wiped the tears from his eyes. 

“Now wipe those tears, and let's go stop Master Xehanort!” Goofy said. 

“Yeah...but...he controls Kingdom Hearts now. And Kairi...” you said as you looked down. 

“You worried?” Roxas asked. You and the others looked over, seeing Roxas, Axel, and Xion enter along with Terra, Aqua, and Ventus.

“Guys,” Vanitas said. 

“Sorry we took so long. Had a couple of plot points that needed ironing out,” Axel said. Ventus and Roxas exchanged a look on their identical faces (i wish they had more interaction!). Terra and Aqua looked up.

“Master Xehanort...” Terra said. 

“He did it. He opened Kingdom Hearts,” Aqua said. 

“So, what now?” Ventus asked. You looked over at the frozen Mickey and Riku and you used your powers to stop the spell. 

“We've still got one hope,” Mickey said. 

“Your Majesty, Riku, are you okay?” Sora asked.

“We're fine.” 

“Yeah,” Riku said. 

“What hope?” you asked. 

“It's Xehanort. During the Mark of Mastery exam, we learned that he can transcend space and time. He's a portal. And we can use that to trap him.” Mickey nodded in agreement. 

“But, it won't be easy. Aqua, Riku, I'll need both your help if we're gonna push Xehanort out of this world,” he said. 

“Understood,” Aqua said as she started to walk over to him. 

“Wait. I'll do it,” Sora said. 

“Me too,” you replied. 

“What?” Riku asked.

“Kingdom Hearts is a much bigger threat. Let us handle Xehanort... while you guys keep it shut,” Sora said. 

“At least let us come with you,” Muki said as she and Elena walked over to you and Sora. 

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

“Yeah. He tortured us ever since we became his puppets. It’s time karma kicked his ass,” Elena said.

“Alright. If you say so,” Mickey said. 

“We got this!” Sora said. Xemnas, Ansem and their daughters gave Muki and Elena a worried look but they gave them a reassuring wink. 

“I’m coming too,” Celina said. 

“Same here. It’s time we put crusty in his grave,” Vanitas said. You nodded and the six of you walked forward, soon joined by Donald and Goofy.

“You can't forget about us,” Donald said. 

“Without Keyblades, it's not like we'll be much help here,” Goofy said. 

“Don’t forget about the Spirits!” 

“Oh, right.” You and the girls giggled and Sora spun his Keyblade in a large arc before twisting it in his hand and aiming it.

“Do it!” he yelled. Your friends each projected a beam toward Kingdom Hearts, different spots creating a hole in the darkness of the moon from which light emanated. Just as Master Xehanort turned around, he was struck in the heart by you and your new team.

“What?!” he asked. A pink spiked sphere emerged from his chest, a portal to trap him. You and the others became a sphere of light which floated up to the portal before light enveloped Kingdom Hearts. 

[botwstoriesandsuch]

YES! POST THINGS! IM BORED!!!

Okie Dokie here you go!

The real reason I wanted an ask was because the original person who asked for this prompt isn’t in my inbox anymore...? Someone requested a one-shot about Revali failing at his gale, but I can’t find it in the inbox because I’m dumb/technology issues? (I think their name was trash mammal or something, idk). Anyway, here’s that, although I kinda, accidentally turned it into a character analysis of Revali...But an anon said that I apologize too much with requests. Therefore, I’m NOT sorry about that, I’m NOT sorry for the wait, and I’m NOT sorry that this is 3487 words long. Enjoy!

Edit: Sorry if the format looks weird on mobile, idk why!

The Pride of the Rito

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Revali x Reader

The night was bitter in more ways than one. The snow that tumbled down on the Flight Range was thick, leaving clumps of ice on the roof. The air was hazy, a silver atmosphere that commanded the winds to howl towards the sky. The rugged mountains that surrounded the area isolated him and the trench. The only thing that could be seen past the lingering snowstorm was the faint blue glow of Medoh in the sky, for even the stars were captured under the white, with not a twinkle in sight. Outside, the flurries rested on the tips of his feathers and beak, a delicate moment in the midst of his relentless training.

Again. Let’s do it again. I need to be more precise.  

Revali knelt on the edge, teetering between the solid ground and the emptiness below him.  

He brushed the tips of his wing against the rocks, the winds rushing between his feathers. His body relaxed for a moment, closing his eyes and feeling the air. Then, he tensed, stiffening his wings on either side, in a motion as if to summon something from the earth. Well, he was summoning something. The air, the wind, the movement, the authority to conjure a draft below him. The winds were now picking up, swirling violently and circling under him, he could feel his jade anklets clinking around from the rampant air.  

Keep going. Keep. Going. It needs to be stronger, faster. 

The falling snow was now alive, dancing around as they were swept into the hurricane-like entity that was now surrounding Revali. His braids were flapping in the air, his cream colored scarf billowing. The winds were now cutting, bitter cold nipping despite his feathered features. 

Now, up. Release with control, direct it upwards. Not all at once. Keep the energy. Follow through the whole way. Command the ascent. Steer the flow. This is it!

A shaky breath escaped him. A strange charge now filled the air. The winds, once turbulent, now suddenly stilled, seeming to wait for their cue. He could feel it still swirling, inside of him, ready to burst at any moment. Then, his wings, still strained on either side of him, gave a mighty flap. The air now roared back to life, swelling beneath him. 

A tornado, a great pillar of air, now released into the sky. 

And he flew

…straight into a rocky cliff. 

“ARGH–”

The wind, quite literally, was knocked out of Revali, as he connected with the rocky ridge. He dropped, and then fell on the ground with a thud. He laid there, aching for a moment, before letting out a deep sigh.

Revali started to move, slightly, just enough to get his head out of the dirt. Then he knelt on the ground, for what seemed like an eternity, contemplating. Finally, he got up. The Rito armor, now dusted with grey snow and rocky debris, had protected most of him, however, it couldn’t protect the blow to his confidence. He cursed under his breath.

It seemed that instead of streaming Revali towards the sky, the gale had pushed him back, sideways towards the surrounding cliffs. With another flap of his wings, he moved back towards the wooden hut, shaking his head.

He landed on the armrest of the balcony, making his way to a little oaken desk. Snatching his journal (astutely named The Diary of Revali, the Rito Legend) he started scribbling down notes. Of course, being so focused on recording his latest happenings, he failed to notice the Hylian sitting amongst the pillows and blankets behind him. Putting the rest of his thoughts onto paper, Revali turned around and was greeted by your smiling face.

“Gah! [Name]? What– when did…how long have you been here?” 

You gave a quiet chuckle.

“Just half an hour or so. A blizzard was coming in and I knew you would be out practicing again. Being stuck here, alone all night, isn’t really ideal. So…”

You moved the blanket off of you, spreading your arms wide as if to present yourself or pose. A cheeky grin on your face.

“Ta-da! Now you have company!”

Moving the leather strap around your shoulder, you tugged a satchel onto your lap. Digging through, you pulled out two sealed containers.

“Plus, I brought some spicy meat stew.” 

Revali shook his head, moving closer to the blankets, but not daring to sit down.

“That’s alright, I’m not hungry.”

Acknowledging, and subsequently ignoring his comment, you shoved the soup container towards his chest, forcing him to hold it. 

“What? You get full from eating the snow and pebbles from your fall just now?”

His eyes then narrowed, “I’m trying to train.”

“By starving and injuring yourself?”

“By perfecting my technique– Listen, [name], if you came here to distract me from my goal, I’m sorry to inform you that your efforts will be for naught.”

Revali turned around, placing the spicy meat stew on the desk. He started making his way towards the landing outside.

You have out a huff. Getting up to follow him, you tossed both of the containers back into your bag and started walking.

 “Instead of focusing on long forgotten spiritual magic, why don’t you just focus on being the best you, you can be?”

“Farore above, did you really just say that? Incredibly cliche, I expected more of you–”

“I was joking.”

“Hmm, we need to work on your sense of humour.”

Outside, the air stung on your cheeks. The snowstorm still clouded the sky, masking both the heavens and the earth in white. Shivering, you asked,

“Rito can already fly, can’t they?  This seems a bit redundant, you already have wings. What’s even the point of creating an updraft?”

Revali slowed his pace to give out a hearty laugh. In fact, he stopped outright, on the edge of the landing, the echoes of his laughter filling the air. At this point it wasn’t entirely clear if he was being sarcastic or not. You crossed your arms, he stopped when he met your stiff gaze.

“Oh, so you were being serious then…”

A familiar smug expression crossed onto Revali’s face. He hopped back onto the railing, perhaps so he could physically look down on you. He tucked his wings behind his back, leaning forward ever so slightly. A professor about to give a lecture. This should be good.

“Well, as understandable as it is that a Hylian couldn’t comprehend the benefits of such an ability, allow me to enlighten you. Rito style archery is the most superior in all of Hyrule for a multitude of reasons. The light crafting of the bow, the quick and efficient draw, our graceful movements and technique, 

“But most importantly…”

He took one foot of the edge, half hovering over the windy pit.

“…the ability of flight!”

Both feet were now off the railing. Revali dove head first into the abyss. While you knew he was probably going to be fine, instinct kicked in as you hurried to the edge to check on him. 

Snow still fell through the air, flurries were once again sticking to his feathers. But all he felt was adrenaline, along with the rush of air as he plummeted towards the bottom. Before hitting the watery depths, he unfurled his wings, catching the natural updrafts of the Flight Range. Now soaring towards the sky, Revali gave a few more mighty flaps to get even more height. 

Still on the landing, you watched as a blur of navy blue rose above the cliffs. Contrasting with the grey and silver landscape, the blur shot through the air. Then it hovered, just below the clouds, still as a leaf.

Above the Flight Range, Revali shifted the bow off his back, allowing it to drop. Repositioning his weight, he dove down to catch it with a practiced grip. Falling through the air, he flipped upside down, just for show. Taking arrows from his quiver, he knocked them into place. Three arrows, all at once, were released. 

Thud! 

Thud! 

Thud!

All made perfect contact with the bullseye, the blue luminescent paint on the targets showing evidence of Revali’s accuracy and precision. Revali fastened another round of arrows, drawing them back before letting them through the air.

Thud! 

Thud! 

Thud! 

Perfect, as should be expected of me.

Now, he was about halfway down in his descent. 

I think [Name] might be impressed if I warm up the place…

Taking the arrows near the bottom of the quiver, he took out three heavier bomb arrows. Round, scarlet heads held a good amount of gunpowder. Sparking them with a piece of flint on the arrow rest, the fuses were lit, and he let them loose. 

BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!

The once frigid air now subsided in the wake of three explosions. The colors of a sunrise clashed in the air, bits of the once turquoise targets nearly flung into your face. You ducked, the warmth of fire now filling the Flight Range. 

Revali spread his wings, catching the natural drafts once more, then settled back on the railing. 

“As you could see from my demonstration, taking to the sky allows for Rito to shoot our enemies without becoming a stationary target ourselves. However, you can only shoot for as long as you’re falling, and taking to the skies takes time.

“You can’t just flap your wings and get into the air immediately. That only works with natural updrafts, again, as I just demonstrated. An average Rito would have to start at an already elevated position, such as the landings in Rito Village, in order to gain enough momentum and height. Or, alternatively, use a long stretch of land as a runway, gaining height at an gradual angle.

He turned to face you, smirk still on his face.

“Both options take too long. You asked the significance of my ability? It’s the fastest way in all of Hyrule to take to the air. Instantaneous height, the ability to attack whenever, wherever. Thought impossible by everyone, but something that I have solely mastered.”

Or, will master, anyhow…

He strode towards you, bow returned to his back, wings, once again, folded behind him. He gave a deep bow.

You gave a polite clap, humoring his grand show.  

“Fantastic performance, Revali. Encore?”

“Tsk. If you came by more often I might consider it.”

Now it was your turn to put on a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. When I finish begging the elders to reward you with a statue, maybe I will.”

“I don’t want, nor need something like that.”

“Oh? But I have to reward you somehow…how about…”

You took out the stews from your satchel. Presenting it like a trophy, you held one out. Then, you tilted your head towards the hut with the pillows and blankets, as if to say, over there! You urged Revali again.

“You didn’t eat lunch, or breakfast!”

“Didn’t I just explain, a literal five seconds ago, how important it is that I practice my–”

“Aaaaaaand you can’t do that on an empty stomach, can you?”

You tried to catch his eye, maybe if he just looked at your eyes, you could get him to change his mind.

“You don’t need to put on an act around me.”

A jade eye shot up, meeting your gaze.

“I’m not–”

Revali looked at you, a new charge filled the air. 

“…fine. Just for a minute.”

. . . . .  

“Did you even attempt to heat this?”

“It’s almost midnight, and I made it at nine. You’re the one who decided to coop up here all day.”

Despite the temperature, the stew was delicious. For the last hour or so, he and you had been devouring in the flavorful dish. Apparently, it was an official recipe from Rito Stable. The meat, tender and soft, complemented well with a savory broth that you slurped every drop of. The spiciness tingled through your bodies, warming the both of you up. Outside, the blizzard was still present, but now less violent. A thin slice of the moon could be seen beyond the edges of the mountains. 

It was you who made most of the small talk with Revali, an incredibly rare occurrence since it was usually the Rito Champion who spoke for extended periods of time. He kept looking outside, near the cliff he had crashed into earlier. 

Damn, he’s really still stuck up on that, huh? You thought. 

Trying to change the subject to something that would get his attention, you piped up.

“So, the move you’re working on, what’cha gonna call it?”

Revali turned his head back at you. He fiddled with the spoon in his half eaten stew, thinking.

“Something with ‘Revali’ in it, so my name’s out there. Revali’s Flap, Revali’s Hurricane…Revali’s…something. I’ll work out something.”

You let out a soft laugh. “As expected from you.” Shoving another piece of meat into your mouth, you added, “Maybe, *munch* maybe do something like Revali’s Turbulence. Oh! How about Revali’s Boldness! Wait, *munch* no, that’s stupid. But maybe a name more along the lines of Urbosa’s Fury, or Mipha’s Grace, ya know?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I need to copy from the likes of Champion Urbosa or Mipha.”

“What? They both got cool powers. You know the saying is ‘good artists borrow, and great artist stea–”

“As I said, I don’t need to copy, steal, or piggyback on my fellow Champion’s esteemed reputation. Further associating myself with them will not be necessary”

You set your bowl down, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Nayru save me, don’t tell me you hate them too?”

“What?”

“I mean, I guess I know from experience that you insult people that you like.”

“I…what?”

“Although, not just personal experience. From what I could gather, you seem to actually hate Master Link, but everyone else you just insult because that’s how you make friends. Wait, or are you actually trying to be friends with Link and you just suck at this kind of thing overall…”

Revali interjected in your rant, turning all his attention to you.

“I don’t hate them.”

“Master Link?”

“No, Urbosa and Mipha. Well, perhaps that knight too I suppose. I–I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then why have you been so bitter lately?”

This caught him off guard. You set your bowl down, holding his gaze. This whole week, Revali had isolated himself in the Flight Range, being sharp-tongued to visitors, much more than usual.  He wasn’t eating, Hylia knows if he sleeps. You decided to stop beating around the bush and got to the core of the issue.

“Revali, I’ve known you for a long time and I know by now when something’s up. You’re angry about something, or scared, you tell me.”

“It’s. Nothing.”

“Is it your new ability?”

 “No.”

“You only got the title of Champion two weeks ago. If you’re feeling pressured, that’s natural”

Revali let his bowl clatter on the ground. Getting up, he made his way outside.

“I’ll eat the rest later, I have to start practicing now.”

You raised your voice slightly, starting to get irritated. “Why is that so important, that you’re sacrificing your health and well being for it?!”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Are you trying to prove yourself? To me? To the Princess? The King? The Champions?”

Revali turned back towards you, but was still walking backwards. The sky was now serene, and full of stars, despite his not so peaceful expression

“I’ve already been deemed on an equal level with all of the other Champions. You know, the team made up of royals and accomplished warriors? I’m here because I’ve shown that my skills are superior to everyone else. Either way, I don’t need to prove anything to people that are of the same rank as me!”

“Hylia, you’re always so blunt with everything else, why not be straightforward now?”

“I am. I’m training because I’m an accomplished Champion who needs to train, not because I’m some mediocre warrior–”

“So you’re afraid of mediocrity?”

“OF COURSE NOT!”

Both of you stood there, stunned. While the tension was building between you two, Revali’s sudden outburst was sudden. You both stood there, wind playing with your hair, and dancing through his scarf.

“…of course not.” His final lie, whispered into the air.

For a moment, there was no sound but the whistles of the wind. You took a step forward, arm outstretched.

“Revali…”

He shook his head, shaking his wings, exasperated.

“OK, Fine! You want the truth, about the updraft? It’s not about the practical use, or the grand show, or defying odds. It’s about me, ok?  Right now I’m nothing, just a random cuckoo walking amongst royalty and legendary warriors.

“Daruk, the Goron Elder with an impenetrable force field. Mipha, the Zora princess, whose healing prowess is said to counter even the most devastating of wounds. Lady Urbosa, Chief of the Gerudo who can summon lightning at a literal snap of her fingers. How did I get in here? I’m put beside warriors who are obviously better than me, and what am I supposed to think? Without anything distinguishing about myself, I’m going to fade into history, behind the actually competent people. I thought I worked my ass off to get where I am today, but then I’m put behind some random knight with a shiny sword. So am I worth something or not? Everything’s contradictory, nothing makes sense.  Did I just get lucky? Am I getting screwed over? 

“The only way I can wrap my head around this whole situation is to confront the fact that I’m just an ordinary Rito who is only here by chance. The work I’ve put in my whole life isn’t enough, I need to go beyond. And beyond means actually mastering this cursed gale!”

An ugly pause. You could cut the heat and tension with a knife. Revali, realizing how much he had just poured out of his soul, gave a half-hearted chuckle.

“Heh, you put wine in that stew?”

His attempt to lighten the mood didn’t fully work. Nonetheless, you stared at him for another eternity. Then you went in for a hug.

“You’re the dumbest Rito alive if you really believe any of that. You are not mediocre. You’re incredible. Incredibly annoying, incredibly persistent at talking my ears off, but incredibly skilled and smart too. Hell, that’s why I’ve loved you for so long.”

Ignoring whatever reaction just escaped from his beak, you continued. 

“I would like to reiterate my point that you’re a moron. You can’t isolate yourself here and expect to get better. You can’t go through all this as a solitary warrior. If mastering this ability means so much to you, then go for it. I don’t doubt you for a second. But just know…just know that you’re a complete idiot if you think that you’re not worthy. You’re a fool if you think for even a second that you’re average or inferior, because…

You gulped.

 …because you’re everything to me.”

OK, I’ll admit that was super cliche. But catharsis is catharsis I guess.

The moment settled, and silence returned once more.

“Hylia, maybe I did put some wine in there.”

Revali gave out a soft laugh. Then, more quiet. Finally, Revali whispered.

“Did you really mean all that?”

“…yeah.”

A pause, a strange charge filled the air.

“Thank you, [Name]. That, uh, means a lot, coming from you. Truly.” 

The air was still once more. However, Revali’s thoughts still swirled like wind.

Say something idiot, they just confessed! 

Haha, yes, of course you like me, considering I’m the best around. 

Holy– They just called you out on your crap! Don’t say something like that

I love you too…

Wow, cheesy and not really part of the mood. Haven’t I presented myself as more sophisticated than that?

Spirits above, what do I do now???

“I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been making you worry all week.”

“It’s fine, I–”

“No, it’s not fine. We just established how that was not fine.”

Revali looked back at you, clearing his throat.

“Hey, so about all that about love, and stuff–”

“Oh my goddess, yeah, no, if you want to just stay friends I can–”

“Oh no, well. Just to be clear, you were talking about me, correct? You weren’t mispronouncing someone else’s name, or referring to someone else named “Revali?”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“No…I–I was referring to you. The person I was talking to.”

“Ah. Good. Glad that’s clarified. That’s great.”

“…so do you–”

“OH-oh-oh, right, uh yes.”

Revali took a step back, pointing at you with both index fingers. His beak was open, but no sound escaped for a moment. 

Say it! They said it a few minutes ago!

I love you too!

“I have also, liked you, a lot, for a long period of time. You’re, pretty great. Yep. Yeah. This is mutual, yes…” 

Gods, I’m really am an idiot

[thebibliomancer]

Shadows of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 14

Shadows of the Dark Crystal by J. M. Lee because a new challenger approaches.

Last times on book: Naia is on a journey to Ha’rar with Kylan to clear brother Gurjin’s name and warn the All-Maudra about all these dark crystals. Due to bad life choices, Naia and Kylan went through the Dark Woods at night, saw all kinds of spooky nonsense, and then Naia dreamfasted with a tree which unspooked the woods. Then a four-armed figure with a mask burst out of a tree.

Chapter 16

A weirdo four-armed guy called urVa has Naia and Kylan for supper. I’m sorry, I mean to supper.

Why would healing the Dark Wood end in releasing a dangerous monster?

Asking the real questions, Naia.

The four-armed possible purple Gelfling-eating monster moves slightly so Naia immediately hucks a bola at it.

It shot from her hand, on target toward the monster’s narrow-set eyes - but quicker than she could see, the thing’s hand darted forth, snatching the center bola stone before it could make its mark. The counterweights flailed uselessly, spinning in open air, striking nothing.

Wow!

Reflexes!

The creature just kind of chuckles at this and finishes the slight movement, removing the wooden mask from its face. Reveaing whorled skin.

!!! Definitely an urRu, yup.

“Sounds like Gelfling breathings,” it mumbled in a voice that sounded like many tones all at once, speaking the Gelfling tongue with an unfamiliar accent. “That Gelfling urVa sees there? Two? Ah! The one who healed Olyeka-Staba.”

! The Archer! Hey, Naia, its cool. This guy is friend-shaped.

Apparently, urVa had come to the Dark Wood to try to help the Cradle-Tree but “seems the Cradle-Tree could be healed by Gelfling hand, or else by none.”

Hmm. That keeps happening. You have a funny way about you, Thra, making Gelfling the only ones who can clean up the messes the urSkeks leave.

Naia is still suspicious that there’s something vaguely Hunter-ish about this guy. Weird but good insight, Naia.

urVa tells the Gelfling that the wood is dangerous and invites them to come with him, in the most ominous way possible, for some reason.

“Come with urVa, for supper. Been a long time inside that tree... Very hungry.”

Surely you know how you sound, dude?

Naia even goes ‘hey supper sounds great but what d’you suppose are the odds that we’re going in the pot?’ to Kylan. And asks him if he thinks urVa is the Hunter.

The boy gets sassy.

“Since when do you believe the songs?” he asked. Naia felt her cheeks warm, but Kylan went on. “The Hunter is ruthless. He isn’t a trickster. If urVa were the Hunter that took my parents, he wouldn’t have given us a false name... He wouldn’t have spoken with us.”

Good points, Kylan.

Besides, they’re both exhausted by traveling and Naia especially by dreamfasting with a tree.

“Maybe... we should see where he’s going. Just to find out.”

Kylan hugged himself with a shiver.

“Do we have a choice?”

“Yes. Our other choice is to sleep here in the wood and see what other monsters come crawling out of it.”

Well, when you put it that way...

So they hurry after urVa through the Woods Formerly Known as Dark which is already making up lost time by sprouting a whole buncha new green plants. They’re able to catch up to urVa without too much effort because as an urRu he has one travel speed and that’s ‘i’ll get there when i get there’

He takes them to a dirt hovel covered in a curtain of “frothy”? vines in a smal glen that urVa has simply littered with chimes made out of every given thing strung up between all the trees.

He has an Aesthetic and I appreciate that.

The hovel itself was hardly more than a few ancient stones holding up a mound of earth. The dusty rocks that made up the entryway were dream-etched, reminding her of the doorways in Great Smerth, back home. urVa entered without a word, leaving the two Gelfling to follow of their own will.

Naia also sees “a satchel full of thin spears with feathers on the ends, each stick longer than Naia was tall” oh my god! She doesn’t know what arrows are!

Although, in fairness, Gelfling as a whole seemed to have skipped past archery in favor of throwing rocks.

“Hmm... Left the door open too long and time came in, I see. Ha-ha.” He waved a hand, clearing some of the dust but stirring up just as much in the process. “Apologies, little Gelfling, for the time inside. Had I been meant to be found, I would have been more prepared.”

I like urVa. He’s fun.

He busies himself boiling a kettle of water and adding stuff to it and basically making soup. Vegetable soup I guess.

“A Drenchen, aren’t you?” urVa said suddenly. “I remember Sog... yes, ah! And that little sapling, what was it? Smerth. I suppose it’s grown enough now to climb, hmm? Do the younglings dangle from its branches like alfen fruits?”

The thought was nearly comical. Naia said, “Not exactly.”

Little sapling? urVa, how long have you been treestuck??

urVa mentions that the great trees like Smerth-Staba and Olyeka-Staba are supposed to be pillars of the world and protectors of Thra but inevitably the shadows of the crystal (oh! Almost a title drop!) have fallen upon them.

“... but I must stay out of such things. Have for a long time, will for a long time yet...”

Darn urRu passivity.

urVa serves Naia and Kylan some sopu.

“Now, eat, eat, little Gelfling. Gelfling like to eat. Yes.”

Yes, exclusively Gelfling like to eat as a unique trait to them =P

Those powerful urRu brains, amirite.

Since Neech seems relaxed, Naia decides she won’t worry either and she consumes soup.

And the more time they spend hanging with urVa, eating soup, the less worried Naia becomes about the other shoe dropping. Because it would be a really long con for urVa to secretly be sinister at this point, right? I mean, I know he isn’t because show and because urRu but Naia doesn’t but it has to seem like this would be a really long way to go ‘haha foooooled you!’

“Do you live here all alone?” Naia asked. “In the wood?”

“No, no. Plenty of trees and rocks.”

I adore urVa.

Naia couldn’t tell if urVa was being intentionally obtuse, so she clarified: “I mean, are there others like you...”

urVa tilted his head and rubbed his chin with a big hand.

“Yes. But we all went our separate ways... after the separation. Divided, then divided again.”

Huuuuh so I know that the urRu would sometimes come to the Valley of the Mystics because the Wanderer was famous for spending more time wandering widely rather than popping back in. But it sounds like the urRu just all fucked off to do their own things most of the time. And the situation with them living together in the Valley was primarily for Jen’s benefit? To give him a stable upbringing of ten dads and minimize the Skeksis deciding to pop in.

Naia was mostly asking because she doesn’t want to be surprised by another four-armed monster showing up so she’s tentatively satisfied with the vague answer.

Kylan has been staring at the markings on the wall this whole time pops in to ask about a triangular emblem with three concentric circles within.

“It is a time, I suppose?” he asked, as if Naia or Kylan might be able to answer him. “Or a door? A time or a door or an awakening. Yes. Something like that.”

“Those aren’t nearly the same thing,” Kylan muttered under his breath. “Perhaps he’s not the Hunter, but he certainly may be mad.”

“He makes a good pot of stew, even so,” Naia replied with a yawn.

Its a tightrope to write a character who is not only incredibly wise but also kind of lost in their own mind because they’re missing half of it.

I also appreciate the dramatic irony where the readers, if they’re familiar with the movie, understand more or less what urVa is getting at.

I also appreciate Kylan’s annoyance with not getting a solid answer. And Naia’s more practical consideration. Good characterization. Best boy Kylan just wants some solid deets to write down. Naia is soup-somnolent.

She watches Kylan try to puzzle out the symbols while also wondering if she could get seconds.

Whats also interesting is that this symbol isn’t known to the Gelfling apparently. Its a hugely important symbol in the lore but the Skeksis have managed to keep it out of public knowledge.

“The Great Conjunction,” Kylan said, and then he stopped. Naia didn’t know what he was referring to or what the words meant, but she shivered. “When single shine the triple suns.”

“Mm,” urVa agreed, though he added nothing despite Kylan’s querulous expression.

Hah.

Instead urVa points Naia and Kylan to a pile of robes so they can get some sleep.

urVa is a good host because the Gelfling nod off pretty much as soon as they lay down.

[avecpardonplaysminecraft]

7. Music

7. Music

.

The day after finding the Creeper head construct didn't fare as well as the group hoped. Sapnap had been able to go out and do a bit of mining, bringing back cobblestone and some iron ore to make a furnace and smelt it. BadBoyHalo and George were outside, chasing after Dream with wooden weapons to help him improve his dodging reaction times and evasion tactics. Or that was what they said they were doing; from the sounds of laughing and taunting that Sapnap heard, he was fairly sure they were just playing around.

It was a good sign at least, hearing Dream sound and act more like his usual self. The moments of blankness had been disconcerting, his silence there nothing at all like his usual focused quiet. What was especially worrying was how Dream kept brushing the moments off as just being tired or distracted; Sapnap was pretty sure something else was causing it. Side effect of sealing the Herobrine Virus, maybe?

He headed into the Creeper head, unloading extra items into the chest that he didn't need before making use of the workbench George had placed down. He traced around the outer edge of the crafting window with a fingertip, dragging cobblestone blocks along to lay them out in a box and create the furnace. With that crafted and set up, he placed it down and popped in the iron ore, then groaned in exasperation. He forgot coal.

Sapnap poked his head outside to yell at the three friends still bouncing around makeshift parkour pillars and piles of dirt. "Hey! Does anyone have some coal or wood? I need to cook iron!" he called out. He stood there, waiting, as Dream ran by and threw a few birch planks at him on his way to the other side of the clearing, Sapnap's auto item pickup snatching them up into his inventory. Moments later, Bad and George raced by, swords in the air.

"Dreeeaam! Come baaaaack! We just wanna tickle you with these swords!" they called and taunted.

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Sapnap shook his head and headed back inside to smelt the iron. There wasn't a lot of it, probably enough to make shields for Dream and George and give Bad an iron sword to replace the stone one. He had just finished crafting the shields when he heard panicked yelling from his friends outside, faint but still alarming.

"What the hell?" Sapnap muttered and yelled in shock as an explosion shook the building, part of the wall blasting open and knocking him over to the floor. He scrambled to his feet, blinking at the blast damage that took out the stonework and let dust drift around in clouds. "Crap, crap, crap, what's going on?!" he muttered, abandoning the blocks in the makeshift base and running for the hole.

He skidded to a stop, taking in the sight of the battle in the clearing in horror. The red-cloaked girl had shown up again, laughing as she fired off arrows from her crossbow at George and Bad, the two struggling to dodge her shots while also fending off attacks from a pair of Illagers and zombies. Not far from them was Dream, who was evading another few Illagers and skeletons after the invaders had somehow managed to isolate him from the others. Sapnap flicked out his sword and shield and ran to join him, even as his skin crawled with an uneasy feeling of wrongness with what he was seeing.

It wasn't until he spotted Dream twisting out of an Illager's sudden tackle attempt that he caught on; the Illagers weren't trying to kill them all, but capture Dream alive. Why? Sapnap leaped at the Illager before they could get up, sinking his sword into them and watching their body flash red before exploding into a cloud of particles. A flash of iron had him look aside in time to see Dream slam his axe down onto a skeleton that had been aiming for him.

"Watch your back, Sapnap!" the blonde yelled and turned to find the others. "George! Bad! We're coming! Just hold on!"

"Oh, Dreeeeeam~!" the red-cloaked girl sang out brightly, crossbow swinging to point at Sapnap. He cringed; hearing her in the taunting tone that was used playfully by the group of friends just added to the wrongness of the battle. "We're here to pick you up and take you back to the Nether Castle! Why aren't you helping us kill these lil simps following you around?"

"What?" Dream exclaimed incredulously, "What?! What makes you think I'd do that?!" He dodged another grab attempt and Sapnap moved to block further attempts, placing himself between the remaining mobs and the smaller Avatar as they ran to join George and Bad. The smaller shield he picked up in the Creeper head construct was easier to angle and direct, allowing Sapnap to keep moving while deflecting arrows and strikes from zombies. The mobs all wore red leather helmets to avoid burning in the sun. He glanced at the Illagers, noticing they also wore red leathers and robes. Was that significant?

"Gah! I'm low! I'm low!" George cried out, stumbling back from one particularly nasty hit from an Illager and clutching at his arm. "What the heck?! These mobs are taking more hits to put down!" He yelped as a zombie closed in to slash at him with an overhead swing of a sword. Dream darted in and held up the axe to catch the blade and hold it back.

"George! Use the bow!" the blonde yelled.

"I can't! I don't have any arrows and my wood sword broke!"

"My sword's gonna break soon too! Sapnap, do you have anything?! You got iron earlier!" Bad called out, shoving another Illager away with his shield then pivoting to stab his sword into a skeleton's ribs and throw it down. The brunet opened his inventory with a quick sweep of his hand, pulling out the iron sword to toss in his direction. Bad flicked his hand to empty it and grabbed the sword out of the air, bringing the blade down onto a Creeper. "Back up! Back up!" He brought up the shield and braced himself, facing the mob head on while the three behind him hurried to move further away.

The explosion threw Bad backwards and he landed on his back on the grass, dazed. Laughing at the sight, the red-cloaked Avatar waved her crossbow at them. "Man, it's no wonder your lose ratio against Dream is so high; you guys are so bad at this," she taunted.

"Hey! They're skilled and got strengths that I don't have and are always improving 'em! Step off my friends!" the blonde yelled, reaching up to pull his goggles over his face and tap the noseband. The white mask materialized into place and he startled a little before flipping the hood of his cloak up as well. "Wha-? Uh, back off! And quit sending your weird mobs after us! What the hell do you want?!"

"What I want, is what you want!" the girl exclaimed, waving a hand around. "C'mon! Why haven't you converted yet?! You should be on your way to the castle by now! Everyone's waiting for you to come back and give us orders on how to attack and destroy the Sky Army!" The mobs halted and looked back up at her, as though confused on what they should be doing now.

"This girl's nuttier than you were that time you got so excited over some achievement that you stripped and jumped naked over a ravine but missed and splatted like fifty blocks straight down," Sapnap grumbled under his breath.

"Dude, you said you wouldn't ever bring that up again, oh my god, what is wrong with you?!" Dream hissed back at him.

A screen popped open in front of the red-cloaked Avatar and she blinked, leaning forward to read it. "Whaaaaaa-?!" she screeched in frustration. "Why do you want me to go back nowwwww?! I'm about to get our Lord, he's right freaking there!" She flailed her hands in Dream's direction before gripping her head. "Aaaargh! Fine! If it's sooooo important, I'll go back and see what it is!" she declared and tapped rapidly at the screen. With her crossbow hand, she waved at the mobs. "Fall back! We're getting new orders!"

And in a rush of feet, the mobs and Avatar ran back down the path into the woods and disappeared.

The group of friends just stood there, baffled. "What?" Dream asked in a flat tone.

.

With the Creeper head base damaged and compromised, the four Avatars continued on, following the path as the day crept into afternoon. They came across a few more ornate chests placed next to wooden wall structures and looted them for supplies, finding a few loaves of bread and apples, bundles of arrows that were given to George, and another Hunter's Armor shirt. That shirt was also given to George; Sapnap tried to hand it to Dream but the blonde refused, pointing out the stats on the armor would benefit the brunet with his bow most.

It wasn't long before they came across a wall with a gateway built to allow entry, with a village not far from it. The path wound from the gate into the village so they continued further, relieved to find possible shelter. But as the team explored the town, they quickly found that every house and shop was empty. Not a single villager could be found, and there was evidence that the population that had been there had fled in a hurry. Meals were still out on plates or spilled, doors unlocked, items knocked over or broken.

"Think this has to do with that weird ground shaking or the girl with the mobs?" Sapnap asked once the group gathered at the village fountain with their findings.

"Could be either, or both," Dream put in, the expression on his mask displaying lines for eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully, the smile still frozen in place. "There weren't any mob drops from zombies and skeletons or Illagers, but that could be because none of those got killed to drop something."

"The houses are still in good shape," George said, gesturing at the buildings. "This is basically an abandoned village now, with a working crop farm and animal pens. We can hide out here for now and go back to training Dream." Bad nodded, smiling in the shadows of his hood as he bounced in place.

"Yeah! I found a small mine entrance nearby, so we can search for resources there too!" he added. Sapnap raised a hand to cover his eyes as he looked skyward to check the time.

"It'll be night soon. May as well check for chests in the houses and pick one to stay in. We'll set our spawn points there so we don't end up in that tavern if we get memed," he said and looked among the houses. There was a comparatively large one set on a small hill and he pointed at it. "That one."

With that plan in place, they split up again to search the houses for loot, bringing back what they found to the house on the hill. Bad was especially excited for his find; three clocks, crafted contraptions made with gold, shimmered with a faint aura. He gave one each to George and Sapnap. "This is good! Now we'll be protected against infection from the Virus!" he declared brightly.

"Dude," Sapnap whined, tilting his head at Dream meaningfully. The blonde's mask just made an awkward expression, tiny half circles for eyes to show them as closed, while he just chuckled at them.

"Guys, it's fine. I think it's a great idea. We have gold bars anyway for piglin trading, but a clock we can hang on to and it's useful," he said, waving a hand dismissively. He pointed at the bread and apples piled on the kitchen table. "Let's just eat and unwind a bit before bed."

They split the food and scattered around the den in the house, warming themselves by the campfires placed in the red brick fireplace and growing comfortable and sleepy. George tapped at a screen he had opened over the Hunter's Armor, studying the scrolling code as he munched on an apple. Bad had a chat screen open, typing messages to Skeppy to keep in touch. Dream sat on a couch closest to the fireplace, the mask hiding his expression as he pulled small chunks of bread from the loaf in his hand and ate them almost mechanically. Sapnap prodded at a jukebox in hopes of a disc before leaving it to flop down beside him.

"Hell of a day, huh, Dream?" he sighed tiredly, slouching down and letting his legs stretch out.

"Uh huh."

"The shine on the clocks isn't very bright, but it'll work still. Personally, I don't think we need them since you're fine," Sapnap went on with a careless shrug, glancing over at the silent blonde. "The artifacts are doing all the work and since we're close by, it's like they're protecting us too. Right?"

"Uh huh."

Sapnap rolled his eyes as he sat up and reached over to flick his fingers against the mask, right between the eyes. The black dots became little circles in surprise as Dream yelped. "C'mon, you've been doing this ever since you woke up back at that village in the spruce forest," he pointed out as George and Bad looked over at them both in concern. "You're spacing out a lot. What's wrong? Don't hide stuff from us; we're your friends."

Dream sighed, tapping the mask to make it dematerialize into the goggles. He pushed those to the top of his head and looked at each of his friends, taking in their worried expressions. "I..," he began, the struggle to stay focused visible on his face, "don't.. know. There's.. there's like a pressure, like in my head, but not? And it doesn't feel bad but it's not right." His words started off slow but then sped up, as though he were rushing to get sentences out before he could space out again. "I don't know what's causing it. Maybe something with the artifacts? I don't know." Dream shook his head, looking into the flames of the campfires and biting his lip before hugging himself. "Am I going to be like this from now on? Because of the Herobrine Virus?" he asked with a broken laugh.

Bad wilted in place, giving George and Sapnap helpless looks, as though hoping one of them could somehow make things better. George got up from his spot on the floor, raising his glasses to his head as he took a seat on the other side of the green-clothed Avatar. He waited for Sapnap to pull Dream into a hug, then pressed in to sandwich him in the group hug, pressing his face to the back of Dream's shoulder. After a few minutes, Bad got up and headed upstairs to the bedrooms, then returned with a blanket that he draped over the three huddled together.

"It's gonna be okay. We'll figure something out," he murmured, ruffling Dream's hair a little before heading back up the stairs for bed.

.

In the morning, Sapnap took over the kitchen to cook the beef George brought in from the cows that had been penned outside. Some eggs were collected and those were cracked open and sizzling in a pan, courtesy of a mod that added more items and recipes in relation to cooking food. Bad sorted through the supplies they had on hand that were dumped into a double chest in the den, taking note of what was available and what they needed to replenish.

"George, after you multiply the cows, bring back some of that wheat so we can make bread!" the demonic Avatar called out the window. George waved at him from the pens, the remaining cows all bumping into each other in a cloud of hearts.

"Bad, don't yell outside like that. What if someone hears you? We're trying to lay low, remember?" Sapnap told him with a laugh. Bad grinned from his place at the window.

"Aw, we're thousands of blocks away from the big city! Nobody's gonna find us or know we're here," he replied, throwing his arms up in a cheer. The two of them continued bickering playfully until Dream came down the stairs from the second floor, yawning and ruffling damp hair with one hand. "Ah! Gooood morning, Dream! Are you feeling better today?" Bad greeted, hopping to his feet.

"Yeah, a lil bit," Dream replied in a mumble. "Bath helped. Good morning." Sapnap grinned, tilting his head.

"Still so cute," he said and held up his hands when Dream whipped his head around to squint at him. "I said, good morning! Ready to eat?" The blonde nodded and trudged over to the table, plopping himself down in a chair and rubbing at his face to try and wake himself up more. Bad scampered off to call George in for breakfast while Sapnap plated out servings and set them on the table. "You know the rules, I cooked so you wash dishes after." Dream nodded, picking up the fork to start in on the eggs and beef with a quiet 'Thanks' for the food.

Once Bad and George joined in, the four Avatars ate and talked over what to do about the Virus sealed within Dream. They couldn't keep the artifacts forever, not when Minecraftia still depended on them to increase its immunity level and stabilize protections against the Virus.

"We should talk to Fundy," George suggested while Dream collected the dishes and headed to the makeshift sink made out of cauldrons and slabs to wash them. "The Virus is coding, just like the rest of us. Herobrine's files must be mixed up in the data around Dream's Core File. Fundy and his Player are super in the know about coding in Minecraft and here, so maybe they can figure out how to separate Herobrine from Dream."

"Ooh, that's a good idea! We should message him and ask for help," Bad agreed, hopping up from his seat to help dry and put away the plates that Dream stacked on a slab. "Where is he living now? Hopefully not too far away."

"Last I heard from Fundy, he was doing some experiments with redstone in an extreme hills biome northwest from Sky Capital," Dream said and dried his hands on his cloak. "From what I remember about the map room in the Sky Army HQ, that biome's like thirty thousand blocks away. It took us like, what, a week and a half to travel about seven thousand blocks?" He threw his arms up as he walked into the den, followed by the others. "So we'd be traveling for at least a month to get to him. A month! I don't want to have this asshole Virus in my body for a month! I don't even want Him one more day!"

"Language," Bad said quietly and blinked as the jukebox hummed. "Uh, guys? Did anyone put a disc in the jukebox?" The chatter halted as everyone focused on the jukebox, suspicious of the hum.

---

<Systems check running.>

<Systems check interrupted. Reason: override by Sysop SkythekidRS.>

<Sysop Command: run systems immunization check.>

<..Systems immunization at 65%>

<Sysop Command: run systems immunization protocol.>

<Running systems immunization.>

<Accessing Sky Hub Orbital Sanctuary.>

<Link to Sysop SkythekidRS.>

<Error. Reason: Sysop SkythekidRS unable to verify Vaccine activation.>

<Sysop Command: Traceback Vaccine module via ping sent by Sysop SkythekidRS.>

<Traceback running. Listening....>

---

Dream flinched slightly at the stream of words that scrolled up his field of vision briefly. He barely had time to wonder over what that was when the music started. "I'd heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do ya?" a voice sang softly from the jukebox. His breath hitched and he moved towards the box almost unconsciously, his mouth moving to follow the words in silence before he joined in with singing along.

"Well, it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth; the minor fall, the major lift! The baffled King composing Hallelujah!" Dream's voice rose and fell in volume, matching the unknown voice in the jukebox. The smiley face clasp shone brighter, light radiating further outward.

---

<Traceback complete.>

<Found: Speed-Class NewGen Avatar, designation: Dream.>

<Link to Dream.>

<Testing...>

<Link established.>

<Register Dream as Anti-Viral. Reassigning Vaccine module.>

<Resuming systems immunization.>

---

"What the hell is going on?" Sapnap muttered as he and the others stared in awe. Their inventory screens suddenly opened and each looked down in surprise. "What the-?" Sapnap's fingers traced over the icons in the screen, trying to find what could have caused it to open without his command, until he stopped at the clock that Bad had given him. It was pulsing with light in time with the music as the song went on so he pulled it out to check it. The gold frame of the clock shimmered brightly with the immunizing aura.

"It's recharging!" George exclaimed, holding out his own clock as light poured out from Dream's clasp and sank into the three clocks, drifting around in sparkling motes that sought out more items made of gold ore. "Is it because Dream is singing? Is singing the way to activate the artifacts?"

Dream went on following the words and melody, keeping pace despite not matching the skill level of the mystery singer, almost as though he was mesmerized by the song. Finally, the song wound to a close, and the last of the shimmering light faded into the air, dissipating into Minecraftia itself.

---

<Server immunization at 100%>

<Terminating link to Dream.>

<Terminating link to Sysop SkythekidRS.>

<Resuming normal functions.>

---

"Gehk!" Dream choked out, gasping and clutching at his chest as a surge of heat blazed through him, searing pain radiating out and making his head pound. He collapsed in place, dimly aware of his friends diving for him with cries of alarm and panic. What was happening? Why did every part of him hurt so much? He twisted and writhed, screaming and sobbing while the burning consumed his senses.

When he felt his consciousness fade, he welcomed it with relief.

[the-fickle-muse]

The future has fangs

Colleseum AU timeline.  Set post SUF  3k words.

Chapter 2 : A tiger in the woods.

The dining room was surprisingly quite empty as Steven and Connie began their breakfast. The manager, a nice lady with short hair, had chalked it up to Beach City incidents driving people away lately. He likely would have found that funny if it weren't for… well. You know.

"So, let's start again-" Connie chirped from behind a mouthful of buttered toast. Her back a little stiff after sleeping on the brick-like mattresses of the B&B. "You'd heard weird noises all night but didn't go check it out?"

"It's been keeping me awake, yeah. I thought maybe it was just a wild animal but…" He trailed off, picking with little appetite at the chunky breakfast sausage sitting on his plate, eventually giving up and tossing it to lion with a sigh. "I guess I thought once I left Beach city all the gem stuff would start going away."

A soft ache at Connie's chest forced her mouth to twist into a sad smile. Of course Steven wanted to get away from it all. It was just an awfully timed coincidence that a corrupted gem of all things would appear now. "Well, since we're only a day or so away, we could poof it  and I can deliver it to the gems to cleanse the corruption. You don't have to come back if you don't want to." 

The awkward expression he gave her quickly shut that idea down, remembering that Steven would need to be present to actually fix the gem. As much as taking a bottle of his spit back would work, in theory, it wasn't a particularly pleasant plan.

"No." He resigned, pushing the mostly empty plate away in defeat. "It's no big deal, just one more gem, right?" The concern in Connie's eyes was almost convincing, but he soon stood up and nodded firmly to confirm his thoughts. "Don't worry, Connie. If I wanted to say no I'd say no. Or I'd make some kind of joke about it..."

Her little chortling sounded like music to his ears. So goofy and sweet. The good kind of pink flush rushed to his rounded cheeks as she rose from her seat and shook her head. "I couldn't convince you not to if I tried, Steven Universe, but it was worth a shot." Her eyes sparkle with an idea, Lion nosing his head onto her plate to grab at the leftovers. "You know, there is one thing you could do to make this better for the both of us."

"And-" Steven is caught during the reply as Connie hopped forward to plant a peck on his cheek. "-uh, wuh, what would that be?" He stammered, blinking away the kiss with a giddy smile.

"I want you to sit this one out." It was clear and concise. Confidently worded as she let her hand linger on his shoulder, watching for the predictable 'wait what?' expression before continuing. "I can handle this, Steven." Her smile lowered, eyes drifting to lion who had finished clearing their plates and was grooming one of the many spots of missing fur from yesterday. "I really don't think-"

"Thank you." 

That one little phrase stopped Connie in her tracks, eyes flicking back to him in surprise. "I… guess it was obvious I really don't want to fight, huh." He chuckled running a hand up the back of his neck. "I get it, too, that I'm not really ok to be… I don't feel comfortable after…" Oh Steven. She understood perfectly well, that's why she even brought it up. But to accept that, and understand, was already such a big leap. She didn't know whether to feel proud or pity him.

She pulled him into a soft, warm, one armed hug. Patting his back a few times before they both cleaned up their table and bid farewell to the cheerful manager. Connie pullined the heavy Pink sword from Lion's mane as they approached the main road, hoisting it up onto her shoulder with one arm while her free hand lay interlocked with Stevens.

The distant rolling thunder of cars surfing over the well kept roads almost gave the outdoors some form of white noise. The brushing of leaves and twittering of small sparrows overtaking the city symphony as they hurried across the asphalt and into the treeline. Her knees and hands, all the way up to the wrist, had been wrapped in clean, sturdy, bandages. The many little scrapes from yesterday were a learning experience, already healed with Steven's help.

The woodlands were just as they had been yesterday. Yet the sky was much different. Swirling wisps of cloud danced around like silk, taken easily in the cool breeze. The sun, not yet having risen enough to beam brightly, cast the horizon in deep golds and oranges. It reminded Steven of his early mornings back home. Rushing to the big doughnut to meet Sadie and Lars. Getting early access to last night's fry-bits from Peedee. It was a warm, Cozy feeling to be thinking of those kinds of mornings.

The minutes flew by, as did yesterday's landmarks. Passing the monolith, then the arrow-trail, and finally coming to the clearing from before. Steven took a long sigh-like breath as he finally let go of Connie and the both of them warily explored the battlezone.

He remembered the direction the gem had taken off in, but felt at a loss when he tried to imagine how far it may have gone by now. After all, gems don't need sleep like they did. And for all he knows it could have been running since their encounter. Broken twigs, a vaguely large break in the opposing bushes...

"Steven, come look at this." Connie squatted into a spry crouch, interested in the dirt, which as he got closer revealed a little glimmer of a clue. "Pawprints." She mumbled. A hand wandering idly down to touch the deep indentation in the dust. It was wide, and only had three toes, making a perfect match got the gem they had seen before. A little further forward was another, and around the same area slightly less defined triangular prints also started to show. Marks of the two-toed back feet by the looks of it.

"They look like the right size. What do you think, lion?” He asked cheerily, ruffling Lion's airy mane as the big cat stooped down to sniff at the trail. Dust and specks of grit flew away from his muzzle on every loud exhale. Taking slow meandering steps over the indentations, his ears pricking up every so often like two twitchy antennae. Finally satisfied, he turned around to look eagerly back at Steven and Connie. 

Hesitation was gripping tediously at Steven's bones as he watched Connie stand up and dust off her knees, wanting to reach out and call the whole thing off so what happened yesterday wouldn't repeat itself. But he knew that wasn't an option anymore. He had faith in her but that faith alone couldn't fight away the gnawing unease of the task ahead.

Lion stayed just a pace behind the troublesome duo, eyes wandering idly of their own accord. The bushes they passed had lingering traces of the beast and with every step closer his tail twitched just a little harder. 

It had hurt him, but not out of anger or savagery. No. It was scared. Lost. Abandoned? His first instinct might have been to observe it with curiosity had it not so suddenly attacked Connie. After all, that's exactly what he'd been doing for a week now. Watching it. Following it. The ambush was unexpected. If he'd known it would have behaved so destructively toward his little human companion he never would have brought her.

The slow crawl of changing scenery eventually escaped the dense trees, out into open air. Large walls of stone jutted out of the ground like steep pedestals hosting unknown treasures on top. The tracks they had been following vanished as dirt gave way to gravel and Lion suddenly halted. The scent trail gems left behind would generally grow stronger the closer they got, and right now it was pretty strong.

"Do you think it's here?" Connie whispered gingerly while letting her blade droop in her grasp.

Steven's stomach was in knots. It twisted and wrenched around itself and yet he managed to keep the feeling subdued by watching Connie's face. Her eyes were narrowed and intense. He didn't need to ask to know what was going on in that head of hers. Such blazing determination; it was infectious. "Yeah. It's got to be here." He took a breath, reaching into Lion's mane with an awkward rummage before pulling something small out. "Stand still."

"What?" She made no moves, expecting danger, but instead was greeted by his hands moving softly through her hair. "-Oh." Trying not to catch any stray tangles as he guided it all into a messy ponytail and twisted on a hairband. Earning a sweet smile as a result. "Thank you, Steven!"

The mushy moment didn't last long as without delay Connie took lead of the walk forward. Everyone's eyes scanned the available horizon until not even a minute into the search they found their prize. Snuffling over the cold stone floor, its muzzle pressing to the dust, with its tail dragging along behind it. 

The gem’s ragged pelt rippled golden under the tinted dawn light. Heavy shadows from surrounding pillars casting darkness over large strips of the open area. It didn't seem to notice the approaching trio until Connie slid down a noisy bank of loose pebbles and tumbling rocks. Despite not being able to see any eyes beyond the mounds of fur, she could feel its pinpoint glare lock onto her the moment it looked her way. It’s fur prickled uncomfortably before laying flat again on noticing Lion and Steven still stashed away at the top of the sheer slide.

An eerie silence alerted Connie to the slow drumming of her pulse in her ears. Guarded and tense as her eyes bore into the creatures bottomless hair. She could feel her palms clam up with sweat underneath the bandage straps, frowning as it stayed statuesque in a frozen crouch. 

Yesterday's fight had by no means been one sided. Even after Lion received one too many injuries Connie had held her ground with impressive technique. The creature fought with an air of predictability. A savage instinct that worked to make it stronger yet easier to anticipate. Many of its moves had been so heavily telegraphed she began to wonder if it was being intentionally slow.

The creature took cautious lumbering steps forward, smooth muzzle creasing, low grinding snarls serving as a warning to the determined human still menacingly standing there. The pink blade reflected soft sparkles of light across the floor with a rosy tint. Time fell to a sluggish crawl, neither making a move without the other instigating it. Connie’s patience was stretched further and further, like a boiling tea kettle. Her sweaty palms readjusted on the sword’s thorn-patterned hilt. Teeth began to grind. “Come on….” She hissed under a delayed breath, shuddering at the feeling of their onlooker’s eyes on the back of her neck. “Stop waiting, come at me!”

A thunderous screech echoed off of the surrounding stones. The gem, finally giving way to the human’s harsh demands, charged forward. It was only a few leaps until the colossal figure collided with Connie’s sword. A clash of razor claws on pearly metal threw sparks as its onslaught of blows bounced harmlessly, but not effortlessly, away from the blade. Connie’s feet danced across the dirt in quick, calm, movements. She was ready for a fight today. 

The gem’s Sharp fangs glimmered, reflecting Connie’s face in their smooth polished edges, almost glowing the further into the fight they went. It was hard not to imagine them closing around her arms and shattering the bones inside. A gritty taste invaded Connie’s mouth as their brawl began to throw up clouds of dust.

The beast lowered, a sign Connie recognised immediately from yesterday. A pounce was coming. If it landed on her the amount of force would knock her over. Thinking quickly, she rolled to the left, making sure to stay away from the direction of the glaring sun so it couldn’t get in her eyes. As predicted the gem lunged forward at the moment she dodged, heavy legs swatting onto the sooty stone. Her sword sailed in a wide arc, whistling as she aimed for the Beast’s head…

The sudden drop in momentum was jarring. A reverberating rattle of metal on hard light. The gem’s mouth had caught the blade mid-swing. Connie’s wide eyes tried to process the sight as it too stood silent for a moment before it tugged at the sword, almost pulling it from her grip. Connie, wincing, shoulder still ringing from the sudden impact, dug her shoes into the pebble-ridden ground. She attempted to keep hold of the weapon while dark rumbles roll out of the creature’s mouth.

Finally it let go, though she wasn’t ready for it, and a hard pull sent her stumbling backwards onto the floor. Steven, who had been keeping a hand in Lion's mane for security, stiffened at the sight. The Gem leaned over her, a paw on either side of her legs, while she stared up at it, frozen. 

“...Grrfff.” It huffed, almost disappointed. The beast blew hot air across Connie’s face before it turned around and walked away, leaving her lying propped up on padded elbows with a confused look cemented onto her face. She stared up at where its muzzle had just been before blinking repeatedly and groaning, hauling herself back onto her feet.

Steven’s head felt like it was going to implode, finally breathing out a long weighty breath he didn’t realise was being held. That was lucky. Hold on. No it wasn’t. That was intentional. His brow creased as he walked to the steep gravelly drop, watching the Gem circle away from Connie and then back again. Re-aligning itself in front of her and shaking off the dust that had settled in its mane. “It’s fighting because she asked it to.” The realisation hit like a puzzle piece being put in place. Sucking in air with surprise, he cupped both hands up in front of his mouth. “Connie, it’s sparring with you!”

Connie’s sword hand wobbled uncomfortably as she aimed the blade back at the monster. Conflicted feelings clouded her senses as it once again lurched forward into an attack. Early training days with Pearl echoed in her head. The choreographed movements, the less frantic fighting, stopping on someone’s defeat instead of following through… and then the corrupted gems she had faced before with Steven. Savage and desperate. Life threatening and high-stakes with no hesitation on either side of the field to finish the fight. 

A surge of adrenaline brought a thunderous cry of effort out of her throat, slamming the flat side of the sword across the beast’s face instead of rolling away. The charge redirected as it stumbled over its own feet from the impact and crumpled to the ground, enough momentum in its run to have it roll aimlessly across the stone for a moment. It lay dizzy and dazed from the unexpected strike.

This time the creature was the one on the ground and it was Connie’s turn to blot out the sun. Planting a foot on its large forearm, she lifted the blade to its head, looking down at the creature with an impossible to read expression. In the background, Lion and Steven slid over the steep ledge and made their way to the pair. Connie sighed, lowering the sword again, and took a step away. She couldn’t poof it. It wasn’t like fighting any other corrupted gem they’d encountered before. It wasn’t just some mindless force of destruction. And neither was she.

“Connie, that was amazing!” Steven’s cheers brought her thoughts crashing back to the present as he grabbed her in a big, tight hug. “Not really what we came here to do but… I mean, I think you won, right?” He chuckled, looking from her embarrassed face to the gem beast still lying comfortably on the floor with what almost looked like a smile.

She patted the back of his jacket, looking uneasily from him to Lion and finally the creature. “I guess?” The patient looking expression on its face made her brows raise in curiosity, confirming a few lingering thoughts as the beast dipped its head in a single nod as a response. “But what about yesterday? Why would it be so aggressive then but not now? I don’t know, Steven, this one is… strange.”

“Huh, you’re right.” He mused, pulling a hand up to his mouth in thought, side-eyeing their potentially dangerous ‘acquaintance’ with a squint. “I can’t say about when you first ran into it, but when I got there it seemed pretty afraid, right? Maybe something else has been fighting it?”

Connie sighed heavily, a smile creeping back onto her face as she watched Lion approach the creature with caution. They stretched out to sniff at each others’ muzzles, despite the beast having no visible nose, and then Lion inevitably recoiled with a passive aggressive growl. They were very clearly not fond of each other, but neither made any attempt to bother the other outside of a few wayward chuffs and grumbles. 

“So… what do we do? If we can’t poof it-”

“We should give it a name.” He cut her off, carrying on as Connie stared at him as if his hair had just turned into feathers. “We can’t just call them ‘it’ all the time, right? You fought it, so why don’t you name it?”

She blinked, taking a second to process the request before shaking her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Alright.” She brushed his goofy smile away with feigned irritability, trying to keep a straight face and only failing on turning back to the two large balls of fur. Lion seemed to be batting curiously at the creature’s large tail. Which it was obviously trying to ignore, flicking the tail’s clubbed end back and forth in an effort to keep it out of his puffy pink paws.

“How about…” Connie’s eyes wandered over the beast's body, settling time and time again on the large burnt orange stripes lining their arms and legs. “Weeee have Lion… so why not Tiger?”

At once the creature’s uninterested posture stiffened and it stood up. Eyeing Connie with an intensity that made her feel like a target. But, by the looks of it, Steven didn’t seem to be affected as much as she was, clapping his hands together as he beamed. “Tiger! What do you think, do you like that name?” he chirped, grabbing the gem’s attention with the word.

Connie pouted for a moment and placed both hands firmly at her hips. “If all gems are named after real gemstones… amethyst, garnet, pearl. Do you think it’s possible this is a tiger’s eye?”

“Maybe. I can’t remember meeting a tiger’s eye before. Do you think they all look like this?” 

“I don’t think we’ve seen any gem that chooses to look like it's corrupted. We really need to ask the Gems about this. They’ll know.”

[greencrusader13]

All Were Innocent Once: Chapter 10 - Knights in Training

Yay! At long last another chapter done! As evidenced by the year stamp at the start of the chapter, this one takes place after a time skip from when we last saw these characters, eight years in fact. The kiddos are growing up!

As always please like and reblog if you’ve been enjoying this fic! It’s been a real pleasure writing it.

3653 BBY…

There was blood in the air, the copper-like scent intertwined with smoke and chaos and fear. Eonur felt it thick in his lungs, strangling him as he coughed, pushing his way through the haze. The blue glow of his lightsaber provided what little additional sight it could, but it wasn’t much. All around him he could feel the terror of the other Jedi permeating through the temple halls, the younger ones’ emotions running rampant. Their home was in ruins, the main hall aflame. The great statues and pillars situated there were nothing more than mounds of rubble. Overhead starfighters, Republic and Empire alike, screamed as they pursued one another across Coruscant’s sky.

And all the while he felt it, something he hadn’t felt since he was first rescued by the Jedi years ago. Hatred, a thick miasma in the air. The dark side of the Force.

As he continued down the hall a hand gripped his shoulder from behind. “Hey! Boy! Get back to work!” the voice said in Huttese.

Huttese?

Eonur jolted awake, launching himself upright while seizing his sheets tighter. His scrambling nearly sent him tumbling to the floor, but he caught himself in time. No sooner had he fully come to consciousness than he realized he heard laughter, the light cackling sound of a cathar boy perched across from him. Tyar grinned playfully as he balanced at the foot of Eonur’s bed, his hands planted between his feet as he crouched, looking borderline feral, and his red eyes sparked with mirth.

“What’s the matter Eonur? Did I frighten you?” he said, once again speaking fluent Huttese.

“Jerk.” Eonur reached behind him for his pillow, which he promptly hurled at his friend with the Force, who ducked out of the way with ease. Tyar rolled back, pushed himself to a handstand, and then vaulted from Eonur’s bed. Though he lacked Eonur’s innate strength, the cathar had been blessed with agility unlike any of the other initiates they’d encountered, and was prone to showing it off. With a sigh Eonur shook his head and swung out his legs. “Is everything okay?” His eyes flicked to the window, where golden sunlight was just beginning to crack along Coruscant’s skyline. “Did something happen?”

Tyar shook his head. “Nah you’re fine. Besides, Greylam would be the one at your door right now if you had overslept. Probably would chastise you with one of the Order’s philosophies or something.”

Eonur chuckled despite himself. “He’s been reading The Collected Writings of Master Dorak again. I don’t think he can help it.” He stopped, then shot a blank glance at his friend. “What are you doing in my room anyhow? For that matter, how did you even get in here?”

“Used a security spike that I made.” Tyar shrugged, as though the act of breaking into any part of the Jedi Temple was a frivolity.

“But…why?”

“In part because I can, but mostly because there’s something I want to show you.”

“Ominous.”

Tyar rolled his eyes and, with the flick of his wrist, flung Eonur’s duvet off over the end of his bed using the Force. “Just get dressed and meet me in five minutes.” Still facing Eonur he started to leave, exiting backwards through the door. “And if I have to break in here again because you decided to get some more shut eye then I’m dragging you down the halls.” The door slid open at his approach, and then Tyar was gone.

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled, though Tyar was well gone by the time the words left his mouth. Eonur didn’t doubt that his friend would make some vain attempt should he go back to sleep. It was for both their sakes that he decided to get up.

How could he go back to sleep anyhow, with the dream still fresh in his head? Everything about it – up until Tyar’s disruption – had felt so real, as though he lived it. A chill ran up his back as he recalled the nightmare. In all his years at the temple, he couldn’t picture it so devastated, that the war would reach the very heart of the Jedi Order in all its terrifying chaos. Yet here he was, safe in his own bed, the Jedi Temple assuredly safe.

It was just a dream.

He dressed quickly, not wanting to keep Tyar waiting any longer. His robes, the standard faire for an initiate, was his fourth set in the past three years. The sudden onset of adolescence had caused Eonur to grow significantly in that time after spending most of his time at the academy as a smaller-than-average youth. His first he’d simply outgrown. The other two he’d tried preserving as long as possible, but they both tore despite his best efforts. He was growing still, and fast at that.

Tyar had his arms crossed when Eonur stepped outside. The cathar tapped his foot impatiently against the opposite wall, ignorant of the other initiates likely trying to sleep at this early hour. He was up far earlier than most of their peers, aside from Greylam of course, who most often awoke before dawn to meditate in the gardens. Most mornings they would both be asleep at this particular hour, yet Tyar was already his robes, but they were covered in light patches of dirt and grime smears. His black hair had been tied back into his usual topknot, but stray strands of hair stuck out on parts of his head. He’d been out – again – and something had him excited.

“You ready? Let’s go,” Tyar said, waving Eonur along down the hall without even giving him a moment’s pause.

Eonur quickened his pace to match his friend’s stride. “Where are we even going?” He kept his voice low, though they were nearly out of earshot of the nearby rooms.

“You’re pretty jumpy this morning,” Tyar replied, flashing another playful grin. “I didn’t mean to scare you that badly. All in good fun.” He rounded the corner to the elevators and pressed the “up” button, which glowed red in response.

“It’s not that, just…” he paused, watching the unlit arrow on the wall above them. “I had a dream. A bad one. Right before you woke me up, actually.”

“So?”

“So, it felt real. It wasn’t like other dreams I’ve had that only felt real while I was having them. This one felt different, like it could actually happen. I’ve heard some masters talking about how sometimes the Force gives us visions of things yet to come, and I was thinking-”

“It’s not real,” Tyar said, his voice softer now, sympathetic even. The elevator opened before them, and he waved Eonur inside. Outside the glass Coruscant’s cityscape lay sprawling across the horizon. A golden sun rose just beyond the skyline, setting the morning sky ablaze with beautiful color, and they too rose with it as the elevator ascended. He could hardly stand to picture what the skies would look like ablaze, though he knew from history it had been several times before.

“I used to have dreams that I was flying with Cirak.”

Eonur blinked back his surprise. It had been some time since he’d heard Tyar mention his older brother. The name seemed heavy on his lips, and it took several moments before he spoke again. “We’d be back on Nar Shaddaa in an old speeder he fixed up, and he was driving so fast that all the lights blended together as they passed. It felt so real that I still remember the smoky air in my lungs and the rush of the wind and my big brother’s smile.” He shrugged. “I was nine when I had that dream, and I was the same age in it. I had it again seven more times. Four years later and not much has changed. I’m not on Nar Shaddaa, and I haven’t seen my brother since I was five. Don’t put too much stock in dreams.”

Eonur frowned, but nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Tyar said. Crossing his arms, he added, “Ugh, now you’ve gone and soured the mood. I was real’ excited for this too.”

Somewhere beneath them those remaining at the Jedi Temple were beginning to wake. There were some older Jedi already stirring, initiates and padawans who hadn’t yet left, but they were few in number. War had hollowed out the temple’s halls, and every day it seemed as though more left to fight for the Republic. It had raged on since he before was first brought to Coruscant, back on the day Orgus Din rescued him from Imperial captivity. If it was to ever end, Eonur doubted that such a day would occur in his lifetime.

Eonur hoped that perhaps by some stroke of luck he’d see the Jedi Master roaming the Great Hall one of these days, but it never happened. He’d only seen his rescuer once in the years following his liberation, just as he was boarding a starfighter with Bengel Morr. Too often he was away in battle. He’d hear stories of his valor, his heroism, and from personal experience Eonur knew they were all true. There’d been no opportunity to thank him, let alone for him to see the Jedi Eonur was becoming in large part to him. Even if it was once, a single exchange even, Eonur wished he could express the gratitude he held that words could not begin to capture.

Upon reaching the upper dormitories of the Jedi Temple, Tyar guided Eonur over to his room. His friend’s fingers danced along the keypad so quickly that he entered his own password incorrectly twice, and he barely waited for the door to slide open before pulling Eonur along with him inside. Tyar’s room was no different from his own, sharing the same simplicity, but it was due to this fact that the medium-sized lump under a black tarp by his desk became more readily apparent, even with the room still coated in dark. Eonur stopped in his tracks as Tyar dramatically gripped the tarp, poised for the unveiling.

“Okay, promise to be quiet?”

“What is that?”

“That,” Tyar started, “is not a yes. Promise to be quiet?”

Eonur waved him off. “Yeah, yeah I promise. Just show me!”

Without another word Tyar ripped off the tarp. An astromech droid lay on its side, just barely short enough to fit underneath Tyar’s desk. No lights blinked, and the droid did not whir or shake as most did when placed in such a position. In fact, it appeared as though it hadn’t been active for some time. Its metal plating was rusted in places along its dome, and its whole body was covered in dents and scratches. Several emitters had been smashed, and from a basic lookover it seemed impossible that the droid would ever be able to play holorecordings in its current state. Eonur ran his hand down the length of the droid, incurring a light film of dust and ash on his fingertips. Even the model seemed older, decades old at least.

“Where did you find this?” Eonur asked. He could barely mask the amazement in his voice.

“I was down in the lower city again-”

Eonur pressed his palm to his face. “Tyar…”

“No, I was careful! Nobody even saw me go. Anyways, I was exploring, and I came across this part of a wrecked cruiser. Somehow scrappers never got around to tearing it up.

“But that’s not the best part,” Tyar continued. He rolled the droid over onto its face. There, on its back, was a painted sigil of a horned creature, an icon all Jedi had become familiar with in the years past. Years ago, before his or Tyar’s own time at the Temple, ships bearing that emblem had torn Coruscant’s skies asunder.

Eonur met Tyar’s eyes. “It’s Mandalorian?”

His friend nodded excitedly. “Looks like. I heard that Mandos don’t even use droids all that often, so whatever they had this one for it must’ve been important.”

“Do you think it was shot down during Hydian Way?”

“That’s what makes the most amount of sense to me.”

“This is incredible,” Eonur breathed. “I can’t believe it survived crashing from orbit.”

“Can you fix it?”

Eonur shot Tyar a sideways glance. “Fix it?”

“Yeah. It might have some old recordings on it that the Republic never found. Even if not the droid’s in good enough shape that we could probably pry loose its memory core if need be. So, do you think you can?”

The last time he’d worked on droid maintenance was as a small child, but the skills he’d learned as a slave hadn’t left him either. Threats of beatings – often fulfilled – instilled that knowledge within him for life. Astromech droids were simple, at least compared to some war droids one of his masters possessed. They’d been armed with plasma and a self-destruct sequence in case of irreparable damage; a “parting gift” for his master’s enemies. Eonur doubted the little tin can would be carrying that same destructive capability.

“Sure, I can, but am I really the best one to have work on this? I mean, have you even told the council about it yet?”

Tyar’s grin faded as the question reached his ears, his mouth flattening into a taciturn line. The sudden grimness startled Eonur, but he remained quiet for his response. “If I told them they’d probably just confiscate it and we wouldn’t get to learn anything. I’d probably even get in trouble for going out on my own again. I just want this to remain between us.” His eyes carried the plea with a greater volume than his words could carry.

“What about Greylam?” Eonur asked, but he knew from Tyar’s scoffing that it would essentially be the same as telling the Jedi Council. Even he – Greylam’s most staunch advocate when it came to these matters – couldn’t deny that their friend’s first instinct would be to run and tell one of the Jedi Masters about Tyar’s discovery. He likely wouldn’t even understand what the problem would be.

“Think about it Eonur: we don’t know what kind of data this droid might have stored on it. If it has some battle plans, or schematics for Mando ships-”

“They would be outdated.”

“But it could give us insight to their strategies.” Tyar’s tone shifted, foregoing his grim seriousness in favor of the enthusiasm he’d held when he first unveiled the droid. “It’s possible we could even prevent another blockade. We’d be heroes!”

Heroics aside, Eonur couldn’t deny the appeal of Tyar’s reasoning. If the droid did carry any sensitive information it could be critical in the Republic’s war effort. The Mandalorian blockade had nearly cost them the war back before he’d even had the opportunity to join the Jedi Order, and it had cost countless soldiers their lives restoring peace to Coruscant. Without the smuggler Hylo Visz, the toll could’ve been even worse. This droid could prevent something like that from ever happening again; Jedi were as much the shields of the Republic as their swords.

They could prevent his nightmare from becoming a reality.

“Okay, I’ll help.”

Tyar pumped his fist, flashing a toothy and fanged smile. “Yes! I knew I could count on you.”

“We’ll need some tools before we get to work on it, but they shouldn’t be too hard to-”

A knock interrupted Eonur’s instruction, and both their heads turned towards the door. “Hide it!” Eonur whispered. Tyar threw the tarp back over the droid as Eonur backed himself up against the wall, attempting to lean against it nonchalantly. He knew without even a mirror that he was failing spectacularly at that.

The doors slid open at Tyar’s beckoning. “Oh, I really should’ve expected it to be you.”

Greylam Cormat stood in the doorway, his posture straight and narrow and completely emotionless, like always. Eonur didn’t even need to see his face – silhouetted against the hallway lights against Tyar’s dark room – to know that his expression too was devoid of any expression. It was a fact about Greylam that Eonur had never fully understood, how to heart he took the Jedi teaching of “there is no emotion; there is peace.” Perfect tranquility accompanied him in every activity, more so than some masters in the Order. Eonur was as awed by his devotion to the teachings as he was troubled by how unnatural it all seemed.

“You’re here early,” Tyar continued, crossing his arms as he braced himself against the doorframe. “How were the gardens? Successful meditation?”

“Meditation isn’t something that is successful or not. That is not the point of it.”

“That’s not…argh, never mind. Still, I’m surprised to see you Grey. For all you know I could’ve still been sleeping.”

“But you weren’t, not unless you and Eonur have begun cohabitating, but I know you haven’t. There are policies against such arrangements.” Greylam’s gaze tilted towards Eonur is the slightest of movements. “Good morning my friend. I checked your room first but did not find you there. You must have left minutes before my arrival.”

“Morning Greylam,” Eonur said. He crossed the room, hoping to block Greylam’s view of the desk from the door. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” Greylam replied, “There is nothing to be concerned over, but I was just curious if you two would actually remember today or not. It would appear not.”

“What in the heck are you talking about?” Tyar asked.

Eonur broke his gaze away from his friends as he wracked his brain for some earthly idea of what Greylam might be referring to. It wasn’t a holiday, and they’d made no plans for the day to spend together. Lessons wouldn’t start for a few more hours unless under special circumstances such as…

“Oh!” Eonur exclaimed, pushing himself up from against the desk. “Oh that’s right!”

“What?”

Excitement barred Eonur’s mind from processing all the words needed to convey what they were missing. “Master Melara! Training grounds!” How could they have possibly forgotten? They had talked about it on end since they were first told.

Understanding glinted in Tyar’s red eyes as they widened in a look of equal parts joy and horror. Without a word he bolted out the door past Greylam, who in turn watched quietly as the cathar sprinted down the hallway towards the elevators.

Eonur stopped beside Greylam, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks for getting us.”

“You were late,” Greylam said, “And I was asked.”

“I owe you,” Eonur said, quickening his pace to catch up with Tyar, already down the hall. “At dinner tonight would you like my dessert?”

“That would be nice.” Although his face didn’t contain any hint of it, Eonur knew Greylam’s words were the closest he’d come to expressing any sort of excitement.

“Come on let’s go!” Tyar shouted from the end of the corridor. If other students weren’t awake yet, they were now.

It was hard not to feel excited, for today they started a pivotal step towards becoming Jedi Knights. They’d known the day was coming, and now it had finally arrived. Today, at long last, they were going to learn how to wield a lightsaber.

[wizardsnwookies]

POTA 111518 - Below

“Looks like you were right.” Miv blinked at the empty coffin with disinterest, turning away to the other stone sarcophagus within the room. “How much you want to bet the rest are occupied?”

“I don’t gamble, but I believe we should take great care in investigating the others.” Banshae was deadly serious, seemingly unaware of the casual turn of phrase.

“I’m sorry?” Dion turned suddenly.

“It’s a rather unfortunate necessity. This appears to be the most likely source of the Ghouls we encountered on our way here. The laboratory upstairs, now this tomb.”

“No, of course you’re right.” The priest glanced at the great stone vessels with a twinge of reluctance. To desecrate a place of rest, even with justification, was not at all something he relished. His duty was to bring peace to the dead, not disrupt it. Banshae could see the distress in his features and placed a solid hand upon his shoulder.

“If their rest has been disturbed-”

“Yes, I know. Proceed.”

She offered only a single curt nod. Flea needed no prompting and was already standing at the head of the next stone coffin, this one far more mundane than that of Samular Paradoon. Unlike his however, this sarcophagus was indeed occupied.

Sliding away to the floor, the stone lid first revealed a pair of milky white eyes open to all the world. No life lived within them, but something else lurked beneath. An unlife, like a slumbering bear within its cave, filled the room with foreboding. Flea readied himself, gripping his axe firmly, waiting for an attack that would not come. Instead it simply sat there, staring through Flea, past him, towards some unseen oblivion.

“Strange, never known an undead to miss out on a meal.” He waved a meaty paw over its eyes, trying to break its trance. Either his flesh was not as appetizing as he thought it to be, or something else was going on here.

“It may still be under the command of its master. These poor creatures are little more than slaves. Please Flea, grant it mercy and release it from bondage.”

“You’re the boss.” A single swing was enough to cave in its brittle skull, exploding into dust and fragments of bone. He casually jumped off the dais and moved to the next coffin, giving Dion room for his rituals.

It continued in such a manner for what felt like ages. One by one tombs were opened, each one either empty or containing a motionless undead awake to the world around it but powerless to act. One by one Flea sent them back to whatever awaited them on the other side, one by one Dion guided them on their way, bringing them to one final coffin.

Flea stood at the head, axe held aloft at the ready. When Banshae slid the slab aside it’s occupant proved to be far more fresh than the others. His skin was immaculate, intact, almost glowing with life still. Across his chest both arms clasped the hilt of his sword, he was dressed in full regalia, the banner of his station neatly folded and placed upon his lap.

“Hold.” Dion nearly threw himself upon the body, ready to block any blow that might come from an overzealous Flea. He could feel a tingle in the air around the body, a ripple in reality indicating the presence of magic.

“Is that who I think it is?” Elora joined the others, leaning in to catch a better glimpse at the young man inside the stone sarcophagus.

“I believe it may be. Sir Ord Nynn, our missing knight.”

“Is it just me or does he look a bit too...fresh?” That was about as delicately as Miv could think to put it. Ord Nynn had died some time before the Caravan left Mirabar, which had been more than a few weeks ago by now.

“A simple spell, ‘Gentle Repose.’“ Dion gently brushed his fingers against the cold steel of the knights burial armor. It was chilled to the touch, but not nearly as cold as the rest of the room. He had been placed here recently.

“How long does a spell like that typically last?”

“Not this long. Someone had to have recast it since the Caravan ambush.”

“Why?” Banshae leaned back to stare at the ceiling. Curious-er and curious-er. The further they uncovered the more complex the motives seemed to be.

“Why bother taking care of the body? It could not have been the the target of the ambush.” The latter was more a question than a statement. Thinking aloud. A question no one seemed to have the answer to.

---

“I don’t think this is part of the original complex.” Elora lead the group out onto the stone landing. Before them a great chasm opened up into the earth bridged by a perfectly hewn stone bridge. Upon the other side, through the darkness, her sensitive elven eyes glimpsed unnatural shapes. Perfect edges and delicate moldings did not occur with any underwater riverways she knew of and furthermore, no monastery she was familiar with needed this much square-footage. Between that and the subtle shift in craftsmanship of the masonry told her they were emerging into a different world entirely.

“Let’s take it carefully from here. Elora, you lead us and keep your senses sharp. Miv, be ready to extinguish the globe on her word.” None argued with Banshae’s orders, the silence of the massive chamber was pregnant with a strange sense of anxiety. As if something horrible awaited them within even though they had received no resistance up until this point.

Stealthy steps guided them along the expanse of the chasm, the stone beneath their feet covered in disturbed dirt and dust. As with everywhere else so far, this place had been marked by battle. Halfway across they paused over a pair of slain figures, an odd pair that did not seem to match with the rest of bodies they had uncovered. The Teifling had one of the strange serrated swords in her death grip and a collection of trophies tied to each horn. Her companion, a strange creature none were familiar with, was extremely pale with hair as white as a winter snow. Each were covered in wounds, the most grievous being a horrific crushing blow that had caved in their torsos, shattering ribs and exploding the heart.

“So, this is where their assault ended.” Banshae offered the brave warriors a moments pause out of respect. A brief sonnet passed her lips, a sonnet she did not know she even knew. A memory from a previous life, a ritual to honor fallen brothers and sisters.

“The two of them did all this damage?” Flea bobbed his head, impressed.

“If these are our predecessors, there should be one more according to Lady Stormbanner. A Kenku. Perhaps they made it further in?”

“Either way, my guess is this is where we can start expecting company.” Flea readied his axe. Casting his eyes across the bridge he peered into the darkness, and thought he saw the briefest of movements.

“Elora?” Banshae turned to the head of the group, the High elf crouched low, body tense. Listening. Watching.

Her fine tuned ears pricked at a faint rustling. A faint disturbance she could just barely hear over the sounds of the party around her. Whispering. Deep guttural voices in a hushed tone, and the clattering of iron.

“I think we’re blown.”

An arrow shot into the darkness, punctuating her statement. The group scattered, ducked, searching the black void at the other end of the bridge. They knew to stay in such an exposed area would be suicide, so each sprinted forward, unbidden into the unknown.

A great stone plaza met them with finely crafted pillars rising up to the raw ceiling. Flagstones faded in and out of piles of earth and loose pebbles. Several hobgoblins stood at the ready by a modest fire built next a pair of shattered stone doors. The archer was already nocking another arrow, while his companion slammed a fist against a wooden door to the west. But there was something else with them, something far more imposing, menacing.

“What in the hells is that?” Banshae drew her sword and hefted up her shield about two meters from the beast that was just now rising to its feet. A rider clad in stone swung burly legs across its back, this thing that looked like a cross between a bulldog and the predators that swam the depths of the ocean. It’s hide looked to be about as thick as her shield, its pointed snout as sharp as her sword.

“Does it matter? Kill it!” From behind Flea leaped clean over her shoulders landing in the dirt to the creature’s left side. With a single swing his axe blade drove itself between two of the sturdy plates of its back, filling the room with a painful, animalistic bellow.

Light filled the room from Miv’s driftglobe. At this point, he figured, the jig was up and all subterfuge was out the window. Light, would only be an aid to their efforts now. He sent it high into ceiling, illuminating as much of the room as he could before moving in to close the distance between himself and the archer.

Elora and Dion pressed up against one of the pillars for cover, peeking out with precise strikes of arrow and magic. The cries of goblinoid anguish as they died were drowned out from a deep roar from within the broken portal. Although she knew not where or when she recognized it, Banshae had no doubt as to its origins. The horn had been sounded for battle. More would be coming, they needed to end this quickly and steel themselves for the second wave. Lest they meet the fate of those that came before them.

-- Buy Me a Coffee -- Support my work by visiting Ko-Fi dot com/H2H6CCBE

[wildname]

(This might be a long one, sorry)

Thalin felt only his hot breath from beneath his helmet. His eyes were closed, feeling the need to retreat into his mind, if only for a moment. That brief moment of peace was shattered by the crack of a rifle. His eyes shot open and he spun about, recomposing himself. He looked across a broken village, civilians were running off into one direction while various soldiers, knights, and magic users ran in the other. A strangely familiar set of colors graced their armor, a broken silver blade on a blue field with gold lining the border. He felt a sense of pride seeing these men and women, but looked to his right as a man ran up to him. Some young human, barely out of his teens, and he was breathing heavily. 

“Knight-Commander, sir!” He shouted, standing up straight and giving a salute. Thalin returned the gesture swiftly and the boy continued. “Sir... they’re coming, the front’s broken!” 

Thalin knew in an instant what those words meant, his heart beating even more rapidly. “Understood...” He panted, looking off to the side as he worked on a solution. The Horde would descend on the village in an instant, taking and killing as they pleased, and he couldn’t let any of that happen. “Send that message down to Knight-Captain Fairwind, and tell him this: All Swords are staying here. We’ll hold them off as long as possible. Either reinforce us or get the civilians out. His call.” The boy nodded once and made the movement to salute, but Thalin cut him off with a loud, “Move!”

The Knight looked down as the boy ran, cursing under his breath. To his surprise, he was wearing the same colors as those men and women. These weren’t Bastion colors... and they certainly weren’t Dragon Force’s. He shook his head and moved to the south of the village, where an aging stone wall held a narrow pass. 

Men and women of all the Alliance races were scattered about, preparing themselves for an inevitable assault. There were average footmen and knights here, along with mages, priests of the Light and Elune, many marksmen and archers, even a few warlocks and death knights from what he could tell. That same sense of pride washed over him, but was quickly erased as a volley of rifle fire filled the air. Thalin looked up to the wall once more, and the line of riflemen along it’s parapets. He moved quickly to climb to the top, he had a man to see.

“Keep up this volley lads! We’ve got a timetable to keep!” a gravely, almost growling tone shouted out. A large worgen was snarling over some poor man’s head as he aimed, turning to see Thalin, a single lupine eye staring at him, “Ah, Knight-Commander Wildname, I was hoping you’d see my drills under better times.” The wolf chuckled, snarling at a misfire. “Load your shit again!”

“Report, I’ve been told the front line's broken.” Thalin replied, knowing full well he’d leave this man to his duty. He looked out just past the pass, once rolling hills and orchards were torn by boot and hoof, and a rising pillar of black signaled his foe’s progress.

“Aye, sorry sods,” the worgen responded, “From what we’ve gathered from the survivors and scouts, the Horde were moving a larger force than we were expecting.” He gazed up at the cloudy sky, snarling, “And you saw the air support.”

Thalin had a vague memory, nothing but the feeling of the earth tremble, and such violent reports. He gave a nod, “I did. What’re your men firing at now?”

“Scouts and skirmishers. They’re sizing us up,” He growled and let his large tongue flick between his teeth, his fur bristling at just the mention of their existence. “They know this wall’ll slow them down.”

The clop of hoofs behind them caused both men to turn, spotting a heavily armored draenei woman. “Knight-Commander, it is good to see you here. As expedient as ever.” She gave a soft chuckle, sounding familiar to music to Thalin, “My men are eager to meet our foes. I trust you will not disappoint them?”

Thalin narrowed his eyes, once again feeling the hot breath from inside his helmet. He reached up, instinctively reaching high, and grasping a pair of metallic antlers. He set his helm down and surveyed the battlefield. There was about two-hundred or so meters between the wall, and where the pass opened up. This ridge continued for miles in either direction, one meeting the sea. If the Horde wanted to take this village, and he knew they would need to, they’d have to go through this pass. “Knight-Captain Hedgerow, what’s our ammo at?”

“Ninety percent, sir. I’ve been keeping volleys spread out for that reason.”

“Good man. And Knight-Captain Veelara, how many men can we field?” 

“Currently? Two hundred and fifty, along with another one hundred and fifty volunteers.”

“It’ll have to do,” Thalin said, his heart sunk at the mention of volunteers. They were just farmers and craftsmen, maybe some local guards, who wanted to protect their home. But that wasn’t their duty, it was his. “I want as many foot troops of the Sword marshaled to the front of the pass, keep the militia to the rear and keep them there in case of breakouts.”

“It will be done, Knight-Commander.” The draenei said, an eager tone to her voice as she spun on her hoof and moved to relay his orders.

“And Knight-Captain Hedgerow, I want a consistent volley on the enemy when the fighting starts. Bullets, arrows, hell I’ll take rocks if you have them.”

“Heh, too easy, sir. I’ll make sure they’ll be chocking on lead when I’m through with them.” The worgen grinned, looking out at the pass. “Like fish in a barrel, aye?”

Thalin responded only with a nod and took his leave, he had preparations to attend to.

Two hundred and fifty men where at his back, all silent and tense for every one of them knew what was coming their way. There had been no report on if Fairwind’s reinforcements were arriving or not. Thalin took this moment to watch over his men. A line of shields were just before him, and he stood mixed between the pikemen and other polearms. They were terrified. And he was too. In the distance, a rhythmic chanting and the drone of wardrums filled the air, the last signal before the Horde were upon them.

“Swords!” Thalin shouted, letting the pass carry his words. “Keep your wits about you. We’re our doing our duty here! We are the Last Sword, and you all remember the meaning of those words, right?” There was a quiet murmur between the lines and he continued, “It means, we are the last sword between those who would destroy our lives, our homes, and our families. We take up arms so that no others may suffer. And now we test our conviction, we take up that last sword against these foes! Don’t think about yourselves here, think of the men, women, and children who you are saving this day. Fight for them, shatter their foe, and preserver!”

A warhorn sounded in the far distance, and a chill ran up Thalin’s spine. They were here, and they would meet them. A line of bodies crested over the far hill, a gnashing crowd of metal, flesh, and furs. Thalin lifted up his blade, screaming with all his might, “Last Sword! Let the wind howl with our voices! DRIVE! THEM! BACK!” Windhowl ignited at it’s wielder’s rage, and all along the line, men and women held up their own weapons, mimicking their leader.

The shields formed up, locking together against the coming wave. Pikes pointed outward between the men, staggered to three lengths, ready to impale the first attackers. Thalin held still as a rumbling mass of flesh and iron crashed before him, Windhowl held tightly into his hand. A loud below echoed out and a great bull-headed beast charged threw the first few lines. Thalin flared his nostrils and slammed his blade into the ground, spreading his feet out wide.

The tauren crashed into him and Thalin roared out, wrapping his arms around the bull’s horns and digging his feet into the earth. Eventually, the two stopped and struggled against one another. The bull’s eyes were intense and Thalin met them equally. Thalin quickly shifted his feet forward, bringing one arm around the tauren’s massive neck, and pulling his other arm out as he made a fist. Thalin slammed his fist into the warrior’s face, a wet crack managed to echo into his helm. He had the advantage now, feeling the beast go slack for a moment. He threw his weight down and slammed the bull into the dirt, and slammed his heel into it’s forehead. As the body went limp with a soft gurgle, Thalin nodded and moved to retrieve Windhowl. 

A string of cracking rifle fire split the din of battle and Thalin heard the buzz of bullets overhead. A number of Horde fighters screamed out as they fell to the ground, gripping wounds or attempting to get back up.  Thalin drew forth his blade, still burning. The top of his hand facing the hilt.

A forsaken woman rushed Thalin this time, twin axes in her hands. Thalin leaned back as a sweep aimed for his neck went wide. She left herself open this time, and he capitalized on it. Windhowl’s pommel slammed into her sternum, knocking whatever passed for air out of whatever was left of her lungs. He stepped to the side quickly, turning the blade around. Thalin lifted it high and slammed it into the shoulder of the woman. She shrieked loudly as the flames of Windhowl lit her dry skin ablaze. It was sickening to him, but the deed was done. He withdrew the blade from her body and turned, only to feel a sharp sting in his gut. 

Thalin looked down to find a crude, but razor sharp, spear inbedded into his abdomen. Thalin gripped the handle tightly as he looked up at it’s wielder. A single tusk pointed out from the troll’s war-painted face. His bright green dreadlocks were strewn about wildly, stained with blood in many places. He was grinning widely at his attack. “Gat meself a big one ‘ere! Ahahaha!” he spoke in zandali. Thalin’s strength was fading, he was loosing blood quickly, and he grit his teeth. 

“Loa have mercy on you... for the Light won’t, and Elune surely won’t, dog.” Thalin spat out in zandali, using all his strength to slap Windhowl into the side of the trolls neck, letting out a gushing spray of blood. The troll gurgled as he fell to the ground, taking Thalin with him. 

The already dark world beneath his helmet began to fade faster, every muscle screaming for him to get up, but unable to do so. The screaming and cries of battle faded away as well. Shadows darted over him, framed against the sky. Are those griffons? Light, Fairwind took his sweet time on that, didn’t he? Thalin mused, feeling a smile curve on his lips. He was tired, so very tired. Maybe the Knight-Captains could see this through?

Thalin shot up, panting in a cold sweat. He was in his bed, in the Dragon’s Heart. He was home, and he was safe. The knight looked down at his scar on his chest, touching it lightly. “That... that was... intense.” He mumbled, looking about the room. “What the hell?” He laid back down in bed, unsure if he wanted to return to sleep. A final thought popped into his mind however, “The Last Sword? Strange name... but I like it.”

[talesofthemultiverse]

The Interloper

The Keldons weren't the best of company, but one couldn't deny their bond.

As Solfrid nibbled at the carved off pieces of colos meat in front of her, the tent was filled with uproarious laughter, as the humans and elves scattered at the tables around her challenged each other to feats of strength and might.

She sighed. Despite their initial hostilities, the Keldons were kind to her when she first came to Dominaria, offering her food and shelter in a harsh, cold, landscape. But maybe a harsh, cold, landscape would make her feel more useful in the world.

"Hey Sol!" A cheery, pale gray elf happily sat down next to her, before tilting her head. "What's wrong?" "Oh, hey Reise," she replied wearily. The towering figure next to her was one of the first to welcome her to the country, albeit with fiery weapons instead of her passionate words. "It's nothing, just... a little out of place. How have you been?"

"What? Oh sweetie..." she suddenly embraced her, taking this moment to steal a bit of meat off of Solfrid's plate. "Do you want to maybe talk about it?"

Solfrid shrugged. "I dunno. Might just eat and gather berries later..." She pushed around some greens on her plate as Reise took another bite of her meat.

"Awww, c'mon Sol." She said, taking a break from her food crimes to look her in the eye. "You know that you can talk to me, right?"

As Solfrid looked Reise in her warm, hazel eyes, she felt her slight smile and caring demeanor make her cheeks redden, before she looked away timidly. "I... I think I'm good."

Reise's general aura of glee faded. "Oh. Well, just keep in mind that you can always talk to me, okay?"

"O-of course... thank you." "You're very welcome." Reise was much more sympathetic than the others, yet was still as likely to take up arms for a cause. She wasn't the most influential of Keldons, but she was able to give her a place to feel safe in a strange and unfamiliar world. Reise quickly tore into her colos meat as Solfrid ate her greens, the former hastily going to arm wrestle with some of the others after her meal.

Solfrid made her way outside, frost coating the patchwork ground of dirt and sprigs of grasses. She wasn't a fighter. She never was, raised to frown on any form of hostility. But Keld decided to challenge her beliefs, with a culture founded on war and combat. She learned about the past of Keld, how many historical Keldon practices involved things she couldn't imagine, and how the Elves of Skyshroud became synonymous with the Humans of Keld, with the most prominent figure becoming the Warlord Rahda. Since her ascent through the hierarchies of Keld, she has helped to shake off some of the more problematic elements of Keldon culture, despite fervent opposition. But even with her dive into Keldon lore, she felt... disconnected. In a universe full of countless other worlds and cultures, she managed to travel to the one place that was almost completely against everything she stood for. She didn't belong in a country of warmongers.

She sat down, a lone weed flowering in front of her. Her hands cupped around it, and a thin veneer of frost wrapped around the stem, surrounding the many petals, extending them into a more familiar form. Kaldhiem never had many flowers, but her favorite one of the few there were was the Edelhvit. A symbol of connection and dedication, the Edelhvit is usually given to a cherished loved one as a sign of commitment. She wished for the bond that it symbolised, and a stray tear fell down to form a perfect frozen drop in the center of the flower.

As she sighed deeply, the sounds of a hunting party leaving the tent entered her ears. They were off to find a stray gargadon, for meat or for mount. She wiped her face, leaving the frozen flower to try and find a berry bush to harvest. While leather and steel were Keld's bounty, the fruit was a diamond in the rough, not yet completely domesticated, yet containing a tartness that made any food served with it that much richer.

As she began to collect the small, round berries, she heard the jovial band begin to canvass the tundra. Nothing new. The ground crunched under her footsteps, as she unconsciously followed the hunting party on her search for bushes to harvest. It wasn't until she saw something out of the corner of her eye that she realized she was following them.

A glint out of the corner of her eye was the only sign she needed to know that she wasn't the only one traveling throughout the Keldon wastes. In an instant, a wall of frozen water raised between the group and the lone figure, the arrow that was loosed being embedded in the ice.

The figure that stared at Solfrid was undeniably from off-world. Her long, jet-black hair hung down in from her serene, unyielding face, a scowl painted unceremoniously on it. Clad in red-and-black leather armor, she gritted her teeth, and the arrow meant for the Keldons exploded, leaving chilling rubble where a wall once was. She took another arrow out from her quiver and nocked it, aiming it not at the Keldons, but Solfrid's heart.

Another wall of ice made short work of the arrow, and vice versa, before the strange woman began to send a volley of shots flying to the confused hunting band. While a snowy wind was able to tilt the projectiles off-course, Solfrid knew that she couldn't stay on deflection duty forever. She focused, before sending her own blast of ice and snow towards the assassin. While it was easily dodged, it gave her time to get closer to the archer, as she yelled out to the Keldons to go back to the camp and start to pack. Upon her 'closer inspection' of the arrows before, she saw that they were barbed on the end, making it impossible to pull them out without an accompanying chunk of flesh. Nothing that would be fun to deal with.

"Who are you?!" she yelled.

"Are you in any real position to ask?" The words were spit at her, closely followed by another arrow.

As ice filled the air from the impact of the arrow, Solfrid broke into a mad dash towards the woman, before having to set up another wall and doing it again. With each shot fired she further closed the distance between the two, until she was close enough to unleash a powerful cloud of snowy mist that enveloped the hill. Before long, a small light began to cut through the haze, as a halo of flaming arrows implanted themselves in the ground to clear the assassin's vision. But before she could take in her surroundings, a column of ice collapsed upon the assailant.

The moderately timid woman knelt down upon the frozen prison that she had made for the archer, and frozen tears began to drop from the corners of her eyes. This woman had a chaotic energy about her that she had only heard whispers of. A lone point in her past that had haunted her since her time as a young girl. The Kannah were amazing storytellers, and such stories were exactly what she was afraid followed her to Dominaria. As tear by tear fell onto the frozen surface of the column prison, a rhythmic shattering sound got louder and louder.

A wrought iron chain with spikes interspersed onto every few links broke through the ice, leaving jagged edges that scratched at the skin. The crimson-and-jet-clad assassin snarled, like a feral beast, looking up towards the protector of this band of raiders. She’s not one of them. Her clothes aren’t the cold leathers of the Keldons, but soft furs that warm one’s very soul. Her hair is of the golden sun, while the Keldons share their hair with the volcanic ash that littered the land. The Keldons were towers among the people of Dominaria, let alone in all the planes, but she was less than average, among their standards. Who was she? Were she a weakling, the tribe would make short work of her. Yet her hands weren’t as calloused and rough as the others. She couldn’t be a Keldon. But why was she here? Garna’s Lieutenant said nothing about an interloper. No matter. There wasn’t any rule against killing people that weren’t the target.” And it would be fun to watch her writhe.

As she stepped out of the pillar, the sound of tears hit her ears sharply. Her bow was in her hands in a flash, before sending a bolt into the blue, followed by the chain. As the spikes dug into the ice, she ran parallel to the face of it, before jumping and letting the momentum swing her up onto the platform behind the interloper. She pulled a knife out from her belt and gave it a slight toss into the air before a frosty blast sent it skidding onto the wastes. Before she knew it, she was dropped onto the ground with a hard thud, along with the fateful crack of a rib.

“Damn you…” she grimaced, before smiling wildly. “I’m going to enjoy flaying that pretty skin off of your body…”

Solfrid’s bloodshot, teary eyes dug into the assassin. “Why are you coming after me?” A wave of cool shot off across the ground, before sealing the woman to the ground. “I did nothing wrong you—”

“Sol!” A familiar voice echoed across the tundra. She turned her head to look at Reise before the arrow turned to shade and pierced through her chest.

As the arrow hit its mark, the elf in the corner yelled “Solfrid,” her voice breaking midway through the word. She couldn’t see the archer dissipate into a smoldering pile of ash out of her peripheral, her focus pointed on Solfird’s body crumpling on top of the pillar.

She clambered up the pillar quickly, as she was fairly familiar with how her friend constructed her sculptures. Upon a quick inspection of her body, and tearing the soft cloths from her skin, she determined that the arrow never penetrated the skin, but managed to leave whatever mark it made internally. Reise hefted Solfrid up onto her shoulders, and carried her back to the camp.

When Solfrid awoke, the same hazel eyes that looked at her earlier at dinner melted with satisfaction. “Sol, you’re awake!”

As she sat up, a sharp pain hit right below her heart, causing her to slump back down. “Gah… what… what happened? Where is she?”

As Reise stroked her golden locks, a wave of calm washed over her. “Shh. Don’t stir too much, you need rest in order to heal.”

“She got away…” a sigh escaped her as she laid back down. “I couldn’t stop her from…”

“Nobody is hurt, Sol,” Reise interrupts, “The hunting party was able to retreat before she could injure anyone, and she must have knew that reinforcements were coming because there was no sight of her after I took you back here… It’s safe.”

“...I...o-okay…” Solfrid muttered, not believing the words that she spoke.

Reise leaned over her, the hand that was combing her hair now resting against her cheek. “...I don’t want to see you doing something that stupid again, okay? I… I care about you, and it’d tear me up if you threw your life away doing something dumb…”

Solfrid flushed at the contact, hastily squeaking and nodding in agreement.

“Good… I hope you don’t mind me being around, cause I’m the one that’s going to be taking care of you for your recuperation.” Reise stood and walked away. “Oh and the hunting party got a gift for you, given you saved their lives.”

As she said that, Solfrid’s eyes wandered onto a colos-wool stuffy, ironically, of a colos. The craftsmanship was atrocious, but it was somehow adorable, in an absolutely horrifying sort of way. The Keldons weren't the best of company, but one couldn't deny their bond.

[seasons-of-ceres]

“You are wasting arrows, (Y/N).”

           You don’t respond, only narrowing your eyes and drawing back the string of your bow. You’ve been looking for Swift Violets and Ludfo’s Bog has a bunch of them hanging off the stranger tree-like pillars, but climbing takes too long. Of course, your problems could be solved if Revali just flies up there himself, but no.

           “Could you not just climb up there yourself?” He asks for the fifteenth time. “Honestly, just watching you is becoming painful.”

           “Then close your eyes.”

           You could’ve done this on your own, but with monsters roaming in larger groups across Hyrule it wouldn’t be wise. Revali could’ve also stayed with the group. Zelda was curious about the properties of Swift Violets; you use the petals in teas to help your overall speed. But no. Revali thought he’d get a kick out of watching you track back and forth between the ground and the high, mushroom-like structures of the bog. You can see him scowling at the brackish pondwater squelching between his talons.

           “I need…three more. Start heading back, I won’t be long.”

           “There’s a storm rolling down from the Thunder Plateau,” he points a feathered hand at the mass of dark gray clouds stretching south. “I won’t make it in time and I can’t very well leave you behind, so you’re stuck with me.”

           “Then see if I missed any arrows. I don’t need to hear you complaining about my shots.”

           “Fine, fine.” He splashes away from you, muttering under his breath.

           You seek out the next giant peg of nature. Once it is within your sights, you take careful aim, thankful the sun’s light isn’t in your face. You are also thankful for the Phrenic Bow –

you’ve been saving it for very special occasions and while this isn’t exactly a life or death situation, you still prefer it over most bows. If Revali was willing to let you try his though…

           When the last violet falls, Revali returns with five arrows. His feathers are damp, the wind carries moisture, and brilliant bolts of nearly green lightning ignite patches of grass in the distance.

           “Done?” he asks.

           “Yes, I am. Now, if we go around the Seres Scablands, there’s a stable we can take shelter in.”

           “Lovely,” Revali sighs. “Lead the way.”

The two of you bundle up your swords and shields, left with the bows strapped to your backs and one wooden spear. Showers of heavy rain soften the earth and soak through all your layers of clothing. Revali is positively miserable, jumping along the path so he doesn’t sink into the mud. His feathers are black, they’re so wet, he reminds you of an owl skeleton you once saw as a child – suddenly thin with bigger, cuter eyes. You keep that last part to yourself.

The lanternlight of the Tabantha Bridge Stable in the distance proves the rain hasn’t gone too far east. Revali grabs your wrist. It’s so…specific. Had he grabbed your upper arm, it would’ve been uncomfortable for you, but meant a lack of affection. Had he grabbed your hand, well, who knows if Revali feels that close to you?

A familiar screeching assaults your ears: two swarms of Keese, dozens of bright red eyes. You take the spear from your back, giving it to Revali and breaking into a run. As he distracts one swarm, you fumble with your boots, kicking them yards ahead. Out of the rain, you spin around and hastily unwrap the bundle of weapons, snatching a Lizal Boomerang. It only takes a few shots to get the swarm off you, and judging by the updraft Revali’s creates, he’s taken care of his.

The currents of air haven’t completely dried his feathers but at least he doesn’t look nearly as miserable; flicking feathery hair out of his eyes, Revali stalks over toward a firepit and drips over it.

“I hope you’re happy.”

“I am. Oh, fireflies!” Your eyes lock onto a shallow pond, more like a puddle, where a ring of firefly’s drift in lazy circle about it. You scamper over and plunge your feet into the water, sitting down and scrubbing your soles free of dirt.

“Priorities, (Y/N).” Revali scolds. “Don’t expect me to indulge you next time, songbird, I’ve had enough rain for a few weeks, at least.”

“I can’t wait to see how react to snow, birdbrain.”

“You’re aware how close to Hebra I am, right?”

“My point is still stands.”

[talesfromthepayload]

A Tale of Dragons

A/N: Nobody asked for this but I watched too much GoT this weekend and also I hate this but it took too long to not post so...

“Left,” you whispered.

“Right,” Hanzo nodded, narrowing his eyes in challenge.

You held each other’s gaze, the sun above beating down on your stubbornness. Silence passed between you two, your statures tense and unforgiving. Hanzo’s eyes were dark, full of regret and wisdom. They were the windows to his soul, a book of his heart, one you had no trouble reading.

He was someone you had come to know a great deal about, someone you had come to respect, despite the complicated twists and turns of his past. You’d come to admire him, perhaps in a way that was not entirely friendly, but you couldn’t deny the affection you held for him.

“Watch your back,” you said softly, granting him a small upturn of your lips.

Normally, you weren’t so forthcoming with emotions. You’d been raised to believe that emotion garnered no advantage, only distraction. Even after your years with Overwatch, you found it difficult to shed the heritage you’d been born into.

“And you, yours,” he mumbled.

Understanding past between the two of you, a flash of trust, then you disbanded.

Blue was zipping through the battlefield, Lena rushing through as she led as many civilians to safety as she could. A roar could be heard, Winston’s no doubt, the sound carrying over the fire of guns. Blood coated the streets, glass and debris littering the surrounding area. Talon had hit, and they hit hard.

In the middle of it all was Reaper, bullets raining from his cloud of black mist. Reinhardt was standing in front of a small family, his shield glowing in the darkness, protecting them. Somewhere off to the right you could hear Soldier: 76, the light of his visor dimmed. He had his pulse rifle in his hand, the area around him bathed in a yellow light.

Pharah’s voice crackled over the comm device, telling the group she’d spotted Talon’s sniper. Mercy replied, asking her to hold off until they could send someone after her. Ana had answered, said she’d had her in her scope, before the line went dead and a shot rang out.

Green flashed by you, foreign words uttered with rage as the green pulsed around Genji, taking form in the shape of a dragon. He’d pulled the sword from his back, charging Reaper and forcing him on the defensive.

“Darlin’!” That deeply accented voice yelled from your left.

You looked over just in time to see Peacekeeper kick back with the force of a shot. A thud sounded by your side, blood leaking from a fresh wound that McCree had inflicted.

You inhaled deeply.

You’d been hit by Widowmaker earlier, the bullet just barely grazing your side. Sombra had attacked you, managing to get a few hits in before you could pull her away. Your body was aching, your muscles were sore, yet you still stood on the battlefield, no closer to victory or defeat.

“Don’t.”

It was Hanzo, his voice softer and sweeter than anything you could expect in such a moment of desolation.

Your hand was spread before you, a kind of energy pulsing through your body that had long since been dormant. You were embracing the power that flowed through your veins, pulling at that string in your mind, and calling to the birthright given to you.

The clink of Hanzo’s boots on the ground drowned as the feeling of euphoria crashed through your body. A blinding white spread from your fingers, planting itself into the ground around you like roots. The battle fell away, the energy searching for enemies, wrapping around them like tendrils from the void. You could feel their life force draining, watch the decay of time wear on their features.

And then it was gone.

Hanzo crashed into you, forcing the energy to manifest itself back into your body.

In one bright explosion, the world disappeared.

Vibrant colors swirled around you, your eyes adjusting slowly to the new surroundings.

Your chest heaved, your fingers wrapping tight around the necklace that hung at your sternum. It was warmer here, you realized, a feeling embracing your body.

Brighter too, it seemed, a great sun beating down on you.

The sun, however, was blocked by a full head of blonde hair and two cerulean eyes.

“Are you okay?” The voice questioned. It was rough, but not unkind.

You managed a nod, not trusting your voice to work after everything you’d endured in the past while.

“Genji,” the man obviously wasn’t talking to you, as he looked over his shoulder. “Get some water and a few bandages, we need to get her back to Angela.”

While his attention was off you, you took a moment to steady your breathing. Not three moments before you felt like you were being torn asunder, atom by atom. Now, you found yourself somewhere not entirely unpleasant.

“I’m Jack, by the way,” the man, Jack, said.

“(Y/N),” you breathed out, nearly wincing at how hoarse your voice sounded.

Wherever this was, it was not your home world. You looked to Jack, unsure whether he should be considered an enemy. He was being kind, helpful even, but you’d been taught that nobody was worthy of trust.

You’d accept his help as long as it benefited you, but you weren’t afraid to fight should the need arise. After all, you wouldn’t be there for long anyways.

A groan slipped past your bloodied lips, dust filling your lungs as you inhaled sharply. You coughed, spitting blood and dirt at the effort.

You tried to yell for Hanzo, though no words managed to be voiced. Your arms were shaking beneath you, holding you above the sandy ground. You opened your eyes, shaking your head in displeasure at the sudden invasion of light.

“H-Hanzo,” you tried again, looking to your left.

His head was rolling, his eyes half lidded as he sat up.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. Even after he’d witnessed your terrifying display of power, and stopped it, he was still worried about your safety. Nobody in the history of your life had ever cared so much.

“I’m alive, if that’s what you mean,” you offer, finding a smile gracing your lips.

You stared at him, melting under his soft gaze. The sharp lines of his jaw and the steep slope of his nose were illuminated under the glare of the sun. His hair shone under its rays, the sight stealing the breath from your lungs.

Then, someone cleared their throat.

Your eyes widened, your body tensing as you went on immediate alert. You jumped to your feet- despite the protests of your body- and looked in the direction the noise had come from.

You were in a coliseum of sorts- an abandoned one, if the broken pillars and dusty remains told you anything. In the center was a platform filled with people, each wildly different from the next. Some were armored like the knights of old, while others wore dresses. Some had dark hair, others lighter than snow. They all held a look of trepidation though.

“Who the fuck is that?”

A harsh voice called out. On his back he carried a wooden box. Half of his face was seared in scars, his body larger than most. He had an intimidating look, though you weren’t frightened in the least.

“Um, it appears we’re a little lost,” you offered in explanation.

Follow my lead.

The words floated in Hanzo’s thoughts. He knew it was, as you often opted to communicating telepathically rather than over comms. Though, Hanzo had his doubts that the comms would even work. He wasn’t sure where you were, but he was damn sure you weren’t anywhere near King’s Row, where the two of you had been fighting Talon.

“You’re interrupting,” the woman in the middle spoke.

You took a step back, head tilting the slightest bit. She wore a black dress, though her hair was short and golden. She had a certain cruelness around her, and you didn’t even need to peak into her mind to see that she was not friendly.

“My apologies, we did not intend, nor expect, to interrupt anything.”

Hanzo was giving the woman a sharp look. He didn’t appreciate the curtness of her words, but he allowed you to speak.

“Jaime, get them out of here,” she said to the man on her right, not even paying you mind anymore.

You sighed out a breath, fingers subtly resting over the dagger on your hip.

“We do not wish for trouble, just directions,” you reasoned.

Another woman stood, her white hair glowing under the sun. She held herself with power, and you sensed a ruthlessness in her, though she had kind eyes.

“Directions to where?”

Her words froze the blonde-haired man who began making his way towards the both of you.

You gave Hanzo a look, raising your brow.

“Well, we do not particularly know where we are to begin with.”

She raised her brows, looking to the small man to her left. Some sort of understanding passed between them, one of importance to you and Hanzo, before she spoke again.

“You’re in King’s Landing.”

You coughed, flitting your eyes to the group. They were... strange. Though, you were quite certain you were the strange ones in their eyes.

“Can I just let this cunt out of his box?” The one who originally spoke to you asked.

He had dropped the box, his hands hovering over the lock that kept it shut. Your consciousness reached out towards the box, prodding gently at the mind that lay within, only to come back cold and dark. Whatever was in there was living it was...

“Undead,” you muttered, natural curiosity guiding your steps as you approached the wooden container.

The knights on the platform tensed, weapons being drawn as you grew closer. Hanzo didn’t hesitate in pulling an arrow from his quiver, notching it and aiming at nobody in particular.

You held your hands up in surrender.

“I mean no harm I’m just a little cu-”

A screech interrupted you, wind lifting around you. Dust picked up, blurring your vision, but you could make out the dark, ominous figure despite it. It was large, far larger than any human, and it had wings spread wide. Its mouth was open, the source of the noise, but you could make out a light glowing in its belly.

“A dragon?” You breathed out.

You stepped back, blindly reaching out for Hanzo, but he was too far away. The dragon was looking at him, angered by where his bow was aiming. 

The girl with the white hair.

“Hanzo...”

The dragon drew its head back, fire spewing forth. You stood, frozen. Distantly, you heard the same phrase Hanzo had yelled a thousand times leaving his lips. The heat of the fire disappeared in a soft breeze, bright blue engulfing your form. 

You turned your head, looking to Hanzo with wide eyes. His chest was heaving, a small smile on his lips as his dragons extinguished the flame, swirling around the dragon that had tried to attack the both of you.

“How did you do that?” The white haired girl asked.

She was watching with awe as the twin dragons wrapped around both you and Hanzo, their ethereal eyes watching the platform sharply. Nobody spoke for a moment, tension rising in the air.

You grabbed Hanzo’s hand, holding tightly onto him in a rare display of both weakness and affection.

“We’re not getting home anytime soon, are we?” You asked, laughing tightly.

The knight’s grips on their swords tightened, confirming your suspicion.

Hanzo cursed.

[shatteredskies042]

Witch Hunt III

“Allyson!” he hissed, before she summoned her bow and fired at a group sitting around a campfire. Michael laid low and slung the SRS off his back, he deployed the bipod, and started sighting and engaging targets. The cultists around the camp reacted to Allyson, some drawing weapons, the others conjuring some kind of spell or magic to combat the angry blonde. As some tried, they fell to either Ally’s dance of bow and swords, or to shots from Michael in the forest. Outside is clear, she stated, dispatching the last cultist. Michael joined her a second later, brandishing his SCAR and looking into the shrine. The building’s design reminded him of the domed building that had survived the Hiroshima bombing, round in the center, with pillars and other architecture off the side. It was decaying, the stone weathered for a thousand years with ivy growing up the sides of the exterior. “Ready to go inside?” he asked. Allyson simply nodded, and knocked an arrow in her hands as she slid towards an opening. Michael stepped beside her, offset a few steps with his rifle up and tracking. There likely wasn’t anyone inside, else they would have exited during the shouting and fighting. “Flashlight?” “Would be useful for you,” she admitted, until a red light came to lighten up the interior. “Why red?” “Easier on the eyes,” he told her, “used red light alot in the old days.” He swept it around, the interior quiet as a tomb, their footsteps echoing on stone. “What are we looking for?” “Anything,” she whispered, using her night vision to search the area. “Camp remnants, hidden passages, people.” She kicked a few stones, then crouched to brush the dust off something. “Got something,” she called out. Michael stepped across the way, shining the light onto the surface the angel crouched before. It was a stone slab, that looked less dusty and dilapidated than the other stone slabs around them. “Secret passage?” “Secret passage.” “How do we open it? “Crowbar?” “Shaped charge.” “Through that much stone?” Ally was not convinced. “Maybe not punch through, but we need a handhold.” “Or,” she looked around a short bit, then shifted a foot. She slid her hands under a small ledge, and lifted, grunting under the strain. Michael joined her seconds after, and they flipped the slab with a mighty crash on the stone floor. “Probably a better idea.” “Definitely,” she remarked, stretching her arms and panting from the brief but intense exertion. “So, who wants to go first?” Michael shined a light down the opening, revealing a dusty but recently traveled stairwell. A light burned at the bottom, “I hope there aren’t spiders,” he remarked softly, taking a step down with the rifle aimed ahead of him. “Spiders? That’s your irrational fear?” she asked amusedly, stepping behind him. “They have eight legs and a ton of eyes, they’re scary,” he pleaded, moving slowly down the stairs. “You’re some badass Special Forces operator, and you’re afraid of spiders?” she snorted, clearly having fun with the whole thing, in spite of her seriousness. The way ahead was now lit by torchlight, with Michael pocketing the flashlight and checking the corners of the dusty catacomb. “Looks like a tomb,” she whispered, taking off on a branching path leading around to a small library. “Books are incredibly old,” she noted, lightly touching one. They seemed so fragile, like they would evaporate in her hands. She let them be, and stepped back into the main corridor ahead of the soldier. “What do the targets want with this place?” “Secure the tomb, then we’ll find out,” she said curtly, moving ahead into a circular room. A raised altar lay in stone pieces on the ground, freshly destroyed. “This was done recently,” she said quietly, looking around slowly. The walls were stone, showing their age, with a dirt ring around the altar. “Any ideas?” Having cleared the small interior, Michael lowered his rifle and looked around: “what was this place a shrine to?” “Don’t know, there were a lot of them long ago,” she mused, examining the shattered altar. “You any good at puzzles? Try and figure this out while I look at those books,” she said, standing and pushing past him to visit the small library again. Michael crouched, and played the red light over the pieces, overturning a few blank ones to try and put the picture together. Pushing pieces, he established a top and bottom, then began to fill in the rest. It was cryptic art, and maybe Allyson would make better sense of it. “Got anything over there?” he asked, playing the light over the rebuilt picture. Pieces were missing, damaged from weathering and violence. The altar had the image of several figures, arms raised in seeming worship of a large, central figure. That figure almost looked like a medusa, the way the hair was depicted, but with the crude etching, only those who were there would know. The blonde stepped over and stood beside him, reading the script etched into stone. “The dialect is old, but they’re thanking something for eternal life,” she squinted and crouched, running her fingers over it. “The figure in the center, something like a god to whoever made this.” “Find anything over in the library?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder at the corridor and alcove. “Taking my time there with the books, being really careful about it too. The books may be older than I am,” she remarked before rising. “I’ve got something that may be a diary of sorts, may be something,” she stated, returning to the alcove. “And I’m not one hundred percent on my translation.” “Best guess?” Michael asked, following to join her. “Don’t have one. I’m going to take pictures and send them to Rani, see if she comes up with anything,” she said, during the process, she withdrew her phone and began snapping photos. “There’s a few books missing, the dust here was displaced,” she motioned to some sections of shelving less dusty and cobweb ridden than others. She finished taking her pictures, then sent them off. “I’m stumped, this place seems like a tomb, but we have nothing really to go on. Why would Julius-” There was a deafening crash above them, causing both of them to brace and raise their weapons. “The entry,” Michael breathed, before coughing from the dust in the air. Allyson, moving quicker to the entry, and finding it sealed. “We’re trapped,” she whispered. There was a shuffling back at the altar, and when Michael joined the blonde he looked back over at her. “We’ve got company,” he announced, raising his rifle. “What kind of company?” He squinted, watching the targets beyond his sights: thin, shambling figures holding a variety of tools and makeshift weapons: “skeletons.” “I’ll try and get this open,” she said, starting to lift up. Michael stepped forward to face the first one, wearing no armor and wielding a crude sickle. He reversed his rifle and thrust it forward as a club, knowing his bullets would do little against the brittle framework of the reanimated. He gave the creature a solid blow to the center of the ribcage, displacing it and causing the entire skeletal frame to collapse. However, it seemed like the skeletons just kept crawling out of the dirt around the altar. “I’ve got it moving, but slow,” she stated, beads of sweat on her face as she pushed with her all. “We’ve got all the time in the world,” he replied with deeply seated sarcasm, bashing his way through the horde to keep them back. “Why didn’t I bring my sword?” “Because you didn’t think you’d need it,” she finished, a crack of night light visible through the opening. He kicked through a few of the aggressors, being fought back as the wall of bones encroached on the stairwell and the pair. A swing from a broken sword broke off the dragon scale vest, but a second swing from a brick crashed against his shoulder, staggering the soldier. He managed to fall back, and raised his rifle to lay down fire. He may not kill any, but he could slow and cripple them. He leaned on the trigger, emptying the magazine and the chambered round in one pull, suppressing the figures in the narrow corridor. Bones broke and fell off, a few fell, but so many remained advancing. “Progress?” he asked, dropping the magazine into the dump pocket and reloading the smoking gun. “Got a foot,” Ally stated, standing higher to push easier, “thirty seconds, maybe more.” “Don’t know if we have that long!” Michael replied, slinging his rifle over his shoulder to fight hand to hand. He charged to kick out the chest of the closest threat. On his kick, he was struck by a stone thrown by one of the skeletons, knocking him to his back from an off balance kick. Michael fell to the ground and drew his sidearm, firing thirteen rounds into the legs of the marauding skeletons. “Then make us that time!” she shot back, watching the fight out of the corner of her eye before she continued pushing on the slab. Her muscles screamed in protest, despite her conditioning. Michael rose and reloaded swiftly, starting to crush the enemies he had felled to buy them a bit more time. A wide slash drove him back, catching his chin and cutting it open. He started to use his rifle again as a club to beat back their attackers, but was forced to retreat back nearly to the angel by the sheer mass of the approaching force. “Crouch,” Ally told him as he was nearly pressing against her. The soldier obeyed, and felt her step on his shoulder as she boosted herself up. Off his back came the SRS, grabbed by the blonde to cover his ascension out of the tomb. As she worked the bolt and fired into the crowd, even swung the weapon to clear skeletons off his back as Michael climbed out, he prepared a brick of C4 to throw back into the tomb. Rolling away after he climbed out, he threw the explosive block into the tomb, and detonated it. The shrine shook when the explosive detonated, caving in part of the tomb and sealing their attackers off. Michael laid on his back and panted, recovering from the quick effort and then standing back up: “we were set up.” “That lying bastard Julius,” Allyson snarled under her breath, she paced the shrine and looked at him. “He set us up.” He looked to her, then moved outside and walked around slowly, watching for any other targets. “So, what now?” “Now, we go back to Rome and kill the son of a bitch."