Author's Note: No, I'm not dead yet, unfortunately.

First of all: I'm sorry.

I'm really sorry.

I'm sorrier than the time I put an entire bag of marshmallows into the microwave just for the heck of it.

I'm sorrier than the time I put my climbing harness on too tight and tried to ride a zip line.

I'm sorrier than the time I accidentally hit myself in the crotch while serving a tennis match. (This really happened.)

I think you're getting the idea by now.

As you know, a little thing called 'life' has been getting in the way of my writing time. There's also other little things called 'piano', 'SAT', and 'homicidal insane stalker parents', but we won't go there now.

You will notice that when I posted the last chapter of Revolt (about a month and some ago, but it feels like a year) I didn't have time to write an author's note. If I had, it is very likely that you would not be foaming at the mouths ready to eat me right now. Rather, I suppose you would be foaming at the mouths ready to eat me, but with a heavy conscience.

(Warning: The following anecdote is pretty long. If you're not in the mood to read it, press Page Down and come back to it when you're ready to do so.)

One of the reasons I cited earlier about not writing was failing classes. Some of you may think I was lying or at least exaggerating, at least for comic effect. I wasn't.

When your teacher doesn't explain a damn thing in class and tests you on material only mentioned in the textbook as a footnote, it's pretty obvious what happens next- you fail. I was getting Ds (60's) constantly on tests, and it's sort of self-explanatory that D's aren't very good for your GPA.

I decided to drop the class, and told my mother about it. With what you all know about Asian stereotypes, it's a miracle I wasn't buried under 60 feet of earth, but my mother didn't say anything. Truthfully, I wished she had screamed instead- the silence was unbearably painful. I think she understood my situation a little, because she herself had failed a dissertation on the history of the Japanese language in college, but that didn't lessen the pain any- I had failed her, and we both knew it. She signed the course change sheet heavy-handed and waved me away.

My father later found out about the whole fiasco when my mother told him, something I hadn't planned on. Now, my father is the sort of guy who you'd call an "iron-fisted ruler", and whenever I got a B in elementary school, he used to do things that would attract the attention of the FBI, CIA, and Al-Qaeda if I described them here. I felt my heart implode when he called me down after dinner to talk about it. Shockingly enough, he didn't scream, brandish his fists, or take off his belt and heat it on the stove. He just sat down and held the pink sheet in his hand, asking me why I wanted to drop the class. I told him I hated the class, my teacher, the subject matter, and it would be best for everyone concerned if I dropped the class. He listened calmly (something I've never seen him do before this moment, frankly) and simultaneously kicked my butt and opened a window in my mind with his next words, something along the lines of "What happened to you? You used to be so good at this, blah blah blah." It's too tedious to translate here, so I won't, but we had a talk for the remainder of the hour. He kept telling me how smart I was, how gifted, and that I shouldn't waste this opportunity by dropping the advanced chem course. I told him I couldn't, that I simply couldn't understand it all. He finally said something that truly touched me: "Do whatever you think is best for yourself, and regardless of what happens, I'll still be proud of you."

Later, in the privacy of my own room, I tore apart the course change form.

A few days later, I took the last Honors Chemistry test of the marking period, and scored a 95. I passed the course with an average of 82 points, and completed the first marking period of sophomore year with a GPA of 4.48.

So, that's reason one why I haven't been writing.

The second reason is slightly less happy, but fortunate nevertheless. A while back, I was Googling "Kal Ancalas" just for fun and came upon a thread in the HiddenStreet forum titled "Playing MS makes you dumber." (You can still access the thread if you wish.) To my utter surprise and confusion, I found some guy calling me a prodigy because I played piano at teh Carnegie Hall.

Well…score one for inspiration.

Recently, though, I've been involved in something that makes the episode at New York look utterly insignificant. Two months ago, I (somehow) managed to convince a panel of judges that I was skilled enough to travel to Vienna, Austria to perform for the greatest European pianists of the age. Yes, you read right- I'm going to Vienna in July(That's in Europe, by the way.) I suspect it had less to do with my playing ability than the fact that the kid in front of me sneezed during his rendition of Fur Elise, but whatever.

The problem is, of course, that I have to memorize Edward McDowell's Hexentanz (Witches' Dance), a 9-page, 3-minute symphony of pain (no, not a typo- that's 20 seconds per page, or about 3/4ths of a second per measure), in six months. Not helping is the fact that I despise Edward McDowell (anyone learning any of his songs will sympathize here), and I usually spend my assigned practice hours playing Houki Boshi (the ending theme from Bleach, which I love) rather than Hexentanz (which I hate).

Bottom line: Studying for chemistry + piano competition in Vienna not much writing time.

On to the actual story. From what I've seen, opinions about this piece fall into one of two categories. Either people consider this more "deep" and "filling" than Revolt, or they simply can't understand it and therefore hate it.

Somehow, over the past weeks, I managed to write the miasma that lies below this note. Unfortunately, I did not finish all the acts, as if I had done so, you would be reading this a month later. I had to cut out the last four acts, which coincidentally were the most important ones. D'oh. Nevertheless, a lot of important stuff is contained here, which is why I suggest you read carefully.

Mythology buffs will note that practically everything I cite in this chapter is wrong, totally wrong. Here are just a few examples below:

- Izanagi and Izanami created a lot of demonic bastard spawn before they finally got Susano'o (actually, he was a bastard too), Amaterasu, and Tsukuyomi. For the sake of the story, I left that part out.
- Tsukuyomi is a guy, not a girl, but in my defense, the "two goddesses" deal helps the story more.

- Ame-no-nuhoko did not break into three pieces after the formation of the world. Kusanagi, Yata, and Yasakani are elements of Japanese mythology, but their origins are totally different from those stated in this story.

- The Norse gods were not descended from the Japanese gods, no matter how much I want to believe otherwise.

- For those of you wondering, Yggdrasill is a gigantic tree at the center of the world that was featured in Tales of Symphonia, and Ratatosk is a squirrel that spends his time running up and down Yggdrasill pissing off the gods. He lends his name to the upcoming ToS sequel, Knight of Ratatosk.

I did get some stuff right, but for your sake, please don't use this story as a source in any of your Japanese/Norse mythology reports. This is fanfiction, and rightfully so.

With this painfully long author's note fresh in your mind, sit back, relax, and enjoy the third part of Way One Moves Time.

P.S: Revolt is not dead, I just haven't had the time to write it. Please don't die of boredom before I get around to writing the next chapter.

P.P.S: I will review The Lone Crusader, Chief, I swear. Just give me a little time to pick through the details.

P.P.P.S: Try putting on some music while reading. I don't care if it's Linkin Park or the Barney theme song- I've noticed that you pick up more on important stuff while listening to music of any sort.

-Kal Ancalas, 12.8.07

act VIII: whispers of the stones (50)

The sword sweeps through the air with a mundane finality, rock shattering at steel's whim. The remnants of the stone golem tumble lifelessly to the ground as I let the curved blade hang in the air, its edge still glimmering with the threat of death.

Two years ago, I would have been scared lifeless of stone golems, and here I am now, slaughtering them with relative ease.

Life likes its little ironies.

That is the last thought that bites my mind as I stare briefly across the landscape, friends and companions in tow. Charles and Susanne are dueling valiantly with the gigantic hulking beasts, metal flashing through the air as they make rubble of the monsters. I see Susanne's elegant, flowing strikes and Charles' nimble, rapid stabs, and I am reminded of the time we fought our first group of mushrooms near Amherst. So long ago, and yet still so familiar.

Charles finally got his Shinkita, though fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view), no arms or legs were involved in the transaction. He gave Elisabeth an Arc Staff in exchange for one, which he found while us two were training at the Dangerous Valley. I would have given him a Sai, but he doesn't think much of strength daggers.

Elisabeth sits quietly in the middle of the temple, her eyes closed as she thoughtfully crosses her legs on the soft grass, totally oblivious to the fact that the gigantic beasts of stone around her could crush her with a single step. A soft emerald-colored glow emanates from her Arc Staff every so often, bathing us in its light; she's finally achieved her dream of becoming a cleric. True to her nature, she sits without the faintest trace of worry; her mind is blissfully, innocently carefree, never harsh or afraid.

It's one of the things I've always liked about her.

Charles whispers an incantation as a gust of wind seems to sweep underneath my feet, and I recognize the bandit's arte of Haste. I leap through the air with newfound agility as the Lion's Fang shines in my grip, and the head of another stone behemoth hits the grass with a dull thump. Barely a few yards away, Charles leaps towards the front of a large golem and vaults himself off it, his Shinkita raised. He slashes it relentlessly with Savage Blow until its body crumbles, landing neatly on his feet as dust settles into his black hair.

Hard to believe he was scared of mushrooms a couple years ago.

Time does not go back, I think, as Susanne charges, Charles stabs, and Elisabeth heals, sparks and stones flying through the air. We are no longer the people we once were, stripped of our childhood innocence and merely a part of the world that surrounds us.

Perched on the ledge above us, Drake calmly snipes away at the heads of any golems that have managed to survive my, Charles, and Susanne's combined onslaught. His eyes are as cold as ever, his mouth drawn in a thin, unsmiling crescent as he wields the string of his Olympus. The hem of an ice-blue coverlet peeks from under his robe and drapes the ground to match his eyes, his oaken hair barely moving in the light breeze.

"Watch your head." he says, simply, as an arrow seemingly breaks the air and embeds itself in the chest of a golem a few paces behind me.

His voice keeps reminding me that I can't trust him. He has helped us from the beginning. For one thing, the only reason we were able to afford our equipment in the first place is that his presence intimidated all but the shrewdest of shopkeepers. For another, it definitely kept the Tsukuyomi grunts at bay- well, most of them, anyway. I hadn't seen Constantine since our last encounter, and frankly, I had no desire to do so again.

There is something Tsukuyomi knows about him that we don't, something that makes them afraid of him, and though I never want to find out what, something tells me I will find out eventually, whether I want to or not.

"Anything good yet?" Charles calls, his voice breaking the relative calm that has settled over us in the hazy afternoon of Golem's Temple.

"Not really, unless you count enough rocks to build a house." Susanne replies, calm and cool as ever. I notice she's changed over the years- her ponytail is long, grazing her waist, and yes, I realize her body is more developed as well- in certain places more so than others, hormones be damned. There's almost no trace of the child she once was in her face, but I can still see her, from those days a few years ago.

"We have some black crystal ores." Elisabeth puts in, her face adorned with a small smile as her eyes open.

They are a lovely sky-blue.

"Black crystals aren't worth bull these days." Drake mutters coldly from above, shooting a lumbering golem between the eyes with a neat flick of his wrist. "Inflation and hackers abound."

"Well, we're bound to get something eventually." I say, more to break the ice than anything else. "How unlucky can you be?"

"You'd be surprised." Drake says, leaning against the wall of the temple's upper ledges. "They say Tsukuyomi's got a transion to control what monsters drop. I've heard one guy used it in Dangerous Valley and got a full set of Steelies and a few scrolls in one day."

"What is a transion?" Charles asks, his eyes mildly curious.

Drake's face seems to pale for the slightest fraction of a second- or whether it was my imagination, I will never know. "It's nothing."

"You said-"

"It's not important." Drake says flatly, and that ends the discussion unceremoniously. Charles shrinks back, a trace of his timid past showing behind his glasses for a moment.

I don't blame him, though.

"Look who's here." a cold voice says, and time seems to freeze for a moment. Elisabeth, Charles, and even Susanne look worried, while Drake's eyes are narrowed. I try to keep my own expression as bleak as possible, though it really isn't working.

It isn't Constantine, but bad enough. A magician is here, his garish white hair streaked with spikes of dark purple. A hood is draped over his head, though, so very little of his hair is visible as it hangs past his shoulders. I can see the slim handle of a Thorns staff pulsing in his right fist, crystalline earpieces decorating his ears. Behind him, more people are following. A dark-haired swordsman, his hair drawn in a braid with a pair of swords clutched in his hands. A crossbow woman stands off to the side, her short hair a dark violet color as a bolt lays loaded in her rifle. To round off the whole ensemble, an assassin stands behind them, Steelies clutched between his thin fingers. Though he isn't Constantine- not by a long shot- his smile is just as cold and domineering.

Though we outnumber them five to four, something tells me that isn't going to make much of a difference.

"What in the Goddess' name are you people doing here?" the magician laughs coldly, twirling his staff in a vain gesture. "Don't you know this is- our area?" There's a cold, pregnant pause as the last two words leave his mouth.

Drake meets his gaze with his usual cold stare. "It's a small world."

The magician's eyes flicker briefly to Drake, and his mouth seems to open a fraction of a centimeter before he says, slowly, "Montag."

"Yes, that's me." Drake acknowledges, though not warmly. Though his bow hangs at his side, I can sense his desire to use it.

"You haven't learned anything from the last time we met, have you?!" the magician snarls, rage suddenly beginning to cloud his face as his features twist into a truly ugly expression. "You're just the same!"

"And so are you." Drake says, calmly. "Watch it, you're scaring the golems."

"You can't hide forever, Montag." the magician growls, his staff raised. "You will pay for your crimes…someday!"

Drake's eyes seem to recede a bit before he says, very coldly, "I look forward to that day, Skorpios."

"That's it!" The mage's eyes narrow dangerously, his pupils lightning-lavender. "Get them!"

Lightning suddenly seems to break apart the sky as bolts suddenly rip through the air, the atmosphere charging with static electricity. Faster than I can blink, the four Tsukuyomi members are suddenly nowhere and everywhere at the same time, cold steel and magic blasting the golems. Almost as soon as the stones are brought to life, they are struck down once more.

Senseless suffering, pain, and slaughter…it all comes back to me now, the memories of time long since gone…

"Come on, you can do better than that!" Drake roars at us as he looses arrows from his bow at a speed which can only be described as inhuman. Though he manages to steal some kills underneath the dark clan's noses, he is the only one doing so. Charles, Susanne, Elisabeth, and I are making no progress.

"Worthless!" the magician shouts, his nostrils flared. "Get out of here before I make you regret it!"

Then there is a sudden burst of pain as something strikes me in the back, something sharp and massive. Its edge cuts into me, blood streaming down my body, and I gaze upwards into the braided warrior's face, his mouth twisted in a snarl as he raises his sword-

"No!" I can suddenly hear the wizard roar, and the swordsman pauses. "Ignore the others- for Goddess' sake, get Montag! He is the one!"

The swordsman blinks briefly, before stepping back. Nevertheless, he keeps his blade trained on me, daring me to move and see what happens. Behind him, I can see Charles, Susanne and Elisabeth, backs to the wall as the crossbow woman and the assassin keep their gazes trained on them.

It is then that I realize we are helpless, like prisoners on execution row.

I see Drake, his ice-blue robe flying through the air as he dodges the constant bursts of lightning an ice that are hurled at him by the mage. Yet, something is wrong. His speed is abnormal- as they duel, I can barely see him, until he seems no longer there, his body moving through the air for flashes at a time. I know that Charles' spell must have worn off by now- so what is happening?

Snarling, I can see perspiration dot the magician's forehead as he aims lightning blasts at Drake, charring the ground where the hunter would have been moments ago, and yet death seems to miss him always.

Then all of a sudden, I see the mage's face break into a thin smile as he raises his staff and chants something, and suddenly Drake's speed is reduced to nothing as he is frozen to the ground, struggling to break free, and the magician is raising his staff and I want to scream and then-

A sudden blast of fire rips the air and sends sparks into the sky as the torrent of red-orange flame washes over us, covering us like a wave. I can feel the flames searing past me, and yet they do not burn. They are pleasantly warm, as though I can feel the touch of a loved one about me. The Tsukuyomi grunts are not so lucky as burns appear over their bodies, the enchanted flame piercing their armor and ripping through them unmercifully.

Badly burnt, the Tsukuyomi grunts stagger to their knees and glare at Drake, their weapons raised, but Drake calmly stares them down, his own bow leveled at them. There is sweat across his brow, as an air of danger hangs about him.

"Don't even think about it." Drake snarls, his eyes narrowed to ice-blue slits in the afternoon sun. "Unless you want to find out what happened to Cassian and the others…get the hell out of here. Now."

"You were lucky, Montag." the magician growls, his staff at his knees. "Your transions are nothing compared to what the rest of Tsukuyomi can do. Be thankful that you can live another day, and say your prayers."

Drake's eyes narrow, and he draws the bowstring back another half-inch threateningly. The magician gets the point and mutters something to his colleagues, vanishing, as do the rest.

It's some time before I can speak. Susanne, Charles, and Elisabeth are staring at Drake in awe. "How did you do that?!"

An unreadable expression crosses Drake's features for a moment- be it regret, sorrow, or simply madness, I shall never know.

"It's not my place to tell you." he says, in a quiet tone that is unlike his usual cold voice. "Perhaps, someday, you will understand…that sometimes the greatest sacrifices are needed…to-"

But his voice cuts off abruptly, and it is as if a veil has been lifted. He blinks, once, the sunlight streaming into his eyes, before he shakes his head and sheathes his bow into his quiver.

"Let's go back." he says simply, crossing past us, his footsteps crushing the charred grass. The rest of us exchange glances briefly before following, and I know exactly what we are all thinking:

We're nothing compared to him.

I start to follow after the rest of them, but a chance movement catches my eye, and I turn around to see a man standing there, his dark hair flowing well past his shoulders. He is obviously much older than I am, perhaps twice my age. His eyes are a razor-sharp shade of white, and it shocks me more than anything. A heavy blade hangs at his waist, hidden in a jeweled sheath of gold and obsidian. His back is completely covered by a cape of silver-trimmed black, emblazoned with a large crescent moon.

One thing is for sure- he isn't any ordinary traveler.

Not sure what to do, I simply stand there, staring at his feet. His gaze is piercing, almost like a soul raised from the dead, and I can feel his eyes scrutinizing me all over. I have no way of knowing what he wants, and all I can do is wait.

"I saw what happened." he says quietly, his voice laced with a tone of sensitivity.

"Yeah." I am lost for words in the face of his stare.

"Nothing escapes Tsukuyomi, does it?" he asks, in the same tone. I muster the courage to look up, and find his eyes have suddenly become less piercing, almost knowing.

"They're horrible." I whisper. "How can they do that- slaughter countless innocents and torture countless more, all for their own selfish purposes? How could anyone allow all this to happen?"

He nods his head solemnly and fingers the hilt of his blade in its sheath. "That is something I have long wondered myself."

It is some time before he speaks once more. "Perhaps…it is not their choice to do so, but rather that they are driven by desperation, greed, and insanity. They join Tsukuyomi knowing their desires for power, recognition and glory will be satisfied. Unfortunately, once the deluded promises of power take them in their dreaded clutches, they do not let go, and thus begins their journey into the abyss of darkness and despair."

There is a tangible silence before he asks, "What is your name?" The question is put simply, and yet it carries something more underneath- that much I can feel.

"My name is Kal Ancalas."

"Know this, then- I am Noel Thaler, and I foresee we may meet some time in the future."

That is all he says before he walks past me along the dusty path leading towards Henesys. I can see the hilt of his sword as he leaves, barely covered by the crescent-emblazoned cape.

It has been forged in the likeness of a gray-colored wolf's head; its fangs are bared, its blood-crimson eyes glistening in the sunlight.

act IX: the secret of amaterasu (60)

"You said you wouldn't, and now look at what happened."

As the cold wind and Charles' voice leave icy marks on my cheeks, I can only grumble and walk further along the edges of the icy crevasses that time has wrought into the mountains of El Nath.

"Really smart, walking all the way from Nath to the Forest of Dead Trees, Kal." Charles' glasses reflect the silver glare of the snow.

My cheeks flare a dim red before the color subsides in the subzero temperature. "Dead Mine scrolls are way too expensive, Charles. You know that."

"Because 200,000 mesos isn't worth freezing your things off in the snow, huh?" Charles wipes the back of his hand against his forehead, barely covered by a hooded headband. Dark hair peeks from under his headpiece.

"Shut up! We barely had enough money as it was paying for your stupid dagger!" True enough, Charles' Deadly Fin glimmers in the snow, clenched between his pallid fingers.

"It's not stupid, Kal." Charles' voice has acquired a somewhat poisonous edge. "It was the best deal Drake could find on the market-"

"Yeah, yeah, and the hackers are everywhere, blah blah blah. Spare me already." Briefly, I can see Charles wince, and I wonder if I should apologize, but the cold dims any thoughts of reparation as we trudge along in the dim sunset.

By the time we finally do reach the godforsaken group of trees in the valley, I realize that it's no more pleasant than the journey we just put ourselves through. Snow whirls through the branches of the petrified trees, a dark cloudbank obscuring the sky. The moon is visible, though, gleaming at us through a pocket in the clouds as it bathes us in its celestial gleam.

"What took you so long?"

Elisabeth is running towards us, her slippered shoes sliding a bit on the icy ground. A white-colored robe adorns her shoulders and body, a warm white hood covering her head. The handle of a wand is clutched in her hand as she brushes errant dark hair from her eyes.

"Someone wanted to save a bit of money on transportation." Charles replies impassively, his arms folded.

"At least you're in one piece." Susanne remarks, her thin silver blade cutting deadly swaths through the air as she duels fiercely with the undead swarming her- how she does it even wearing untold pounds of plate armor is beyond me.

My eyes sweep briefly across the landscape, and I am greeted with nothing except the aura of death and despair.

"Where's Drake?" I am surprised by the volume of my own voice.

Susanne looks up briefly from vivisecting a zombie. "He couldn't come. Said he had to do something in town."

We briefly exchange looks as a feeling of apprehension hangs over us- since his display of fire in Golem's Temple, we've learned not to ask questions where Drake Montag is concerned.

"Let's hope no one from Tsukuyomi comes, anyway." Charles notes wryly, his double-edged blade already busy as it dances in a swift motion through the air, inflicting a series of consecutive gashes in the rotting figure of an incoming ghoul.

"Wishful thinking." A sour look adorns Susanne's mouth for a moment. "If anything, this is practically their breeding ground, especially at a time like this…"

I start to laugh before I realize she isn't joking, and any mirth dies in the back of my throat. Finding nothing else to do, I can only unsheathe my two-handed blade and join my companions in taking advantage of the brief respite that fate has granted us.

Each time I raise the blade and drive it forward with a burst of crimson energy, I close my eyes and imagine that each rotting, stinking zombie has Constantine's face upon its head.

"Is something wrong, Kal?" Charles' voice silently slides through the icy night and rests in my ears.

His voice surprises me- I've never really expected him to take an interest in my troubles, but then again, he's been doing that for the past few years.

"Not really." I step forward and thrust, the mangled remains of another zombie hitting the icy floor. "What do you care, anyway?"

"Hm." Charles' gaze flickers towards Susanne for a moment before he folds his hands together, and the familiar sensation of Haste entwines itself around my feet. "A meso for your thoughts, Kal."

"Fine." There is a crunching noise as the tip of my sword breaks the icy ground. "If you really must know, I've been just peachy since we nearly got ourselves killed by Tsukuyomi. Twice."

Charles is silent for a while as he contemplates, his glasses trailing towards the tip of his nose.

"What can we do about it?" he finally concurs, his eyes boring into me. "They're a worldwide terrorist group, and we- we're just a bunch of kids trying to make a name for ourselves in this godforsaken world of Bera."

"It just-" Pain briefly hits me as my lips, numb from the cold, crack. Blood seeps down my chin. "It just feels so useless, so empty. I always think there's something- anything I can do, but there isn't."

"Hm." Charles touches the tip of his blade to his chin and seems to stare off into the distance. "They can make monsters fly, Kal, and for the record, I don't see how you can compare with that."

"There has to be something!" I snap furiously, unconsciously biting my lip as more blood trickles out. "I mean, if Drake could do it- what's to prevent the rest of us from launching all-out war against them?"

"Ask everyone that question, Kal, and you won't get an answer." Charles says, rubbing a finger along the sharp edge of his double blade. "They're much too widespread to stop. They rule by fear and intimidation. You can never see them, and yet they exist everywhere."

"When the hell did you start turning into Voltaire?" I mutter grumpily, terminating the conversation. Charles turns away wordlessly, instead settling for dismembering murderous foes with swipes of his dagger.

The scent of death is heavy in the air.

"Someone's coming." Susanne announces emotionlessly, briefly lowering her sword.

Elisabeth opens her eyes for a brief moment. "How can you tell?"

Mutely, she points the silvered blade towards the east, where a contingent of people are approaching. On closer inspection, the group consists of a hermit, a chief bandit, two mages, and two crusaders- not a pleasant thought.

We're outnumbered two to three, and Drake isn't with us.

"Oh, for-" Charles lets out an oath that is lost in the frigid wind.

"Should we leave?" Elisabeth asks, clenching her wand tightly. I can see a bead of sweat drip down her neck and freeze halfway down.

"Is it like we really have a choice?" Susanne replies bluntly, as flat and frank as ever. "If one group's here, then we might as well be shooting craps for all the luck the other sections of forest are going to give us."

"So basically, you're saying that we should stay here and get mauled." Charles says, half dryly.

"Precisely." Susanne replies, without the faintest semblance of a smile.

Shards of steel suddenly hit the ground at our feet, and we barely have to look up to see the objects of our derision.

"Well, look who's here."

I am half-expecting to see Constantine, but fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) he isn't there. Nevertheless, the Tsukuyomi units that have gathered here aren't any less hostile.

"What do you want?" Charles finally snaps, breaking the deathly silence.

They do not answer at once, but rather turn towards each other and exchange brief words before the apparent leader, a stone-faced hermit, replies. "We were tipped off that someone from Amaterasu would arrive, but if this is all they sent, I think we might as well storm the whole place right now."

They all laugh, a sound that sends chills up my spine more so than the cold. I have no idea who or what Amaterasu is, but I cannot care less at the moment- we are all in very deep trouble, considering the fact they are all of the third job advancement, and consequently at a much higher level that us. It'll be a miracle if we can survive.

The hermit regards us coldly, condescendingly, for another second before he snaps his fingers. "Assume hawkshead attack formation, Alpha…now!"

Faster than I can blink, the Tsukuyomi units have surrounded us, murder on their faces and magic at their fingertips. Reminded of the episode with Constantine some time ago, I have no desire to repeat that experience- and shudder as I realize that it may happen to all of us.

"Listen, you-" The hermit spits along the icy ground before turning back to face us. "You can all go to hell, and tell that moth-eaten asshole Faber that he's going down too."

"But-" Plaintively, Elisabeth musters the courage to speak. "We don't even know who or what Amaterasu or Faber are-"

"Likely story, whelp!" he snaps, spittle flying into her face. Indignation bursts in my veins as I grip my sword, and yet I realize it won't do a bit of good as I glance at the crusaders' weathered blades.

As the other five surround us, the hermit slowly walks around us like a dog inspecting his trapped prey. As he walks past, I can smell his foul breath, hanging like poison in the air.

He stops, and touches a finger to my cheek.

"This is what you get…" he hisses, "for screwing around with us."

Then there is a flash of metal as pain sears my body, and I am forced to my knees on the cold ground. The snow is streaked with blood, and pain explodes through my chest with every breath.

He stands up and coldly regards the others, drawing a single finger across his throat and mouthing the words "Kill them."

"No!" I scream, the icy wind slashing my throat, but in the next instant, the crusaders and bandit have impaled Charles, Susanne, and Elisabeth upon half a foot of steel. Quietly, their eyes slide in and out of focus, blood streaking their mouths, before they drop silently to the ground. Blood gathers upon the ground, staining the snow a dark crimson.

"You…you…" Rage and pain clouds my voice, but my sword is still a foot away from my fingers. "How dare you…how could you…"

The hermit eyes me once more, his eyes showing a treacherous tenderness as his voice is laced with poisonous honey. "Feels terrible, doesn't it?"

"I'll…I'll kill you!" I scream, the pain vanishing in one motion as I stand up and unsheathe my sword. I can see the smile on his face, the carefree expression, and I realize it is I who will die, and not he.

Yet, there is nothing I can do except lunge at those who have destroyed my life.

There is a sudden explosion of lightning as my sword pierces through his body, and he lets out a horrible, ear-jarring scream as blood suddenly spatters the ground in jagged streams. Breathing hard, I can only stare at his falling corpse, the scent of scorched blood in the air, as electricity sparks briefly into the air.

Behind him, a man is standing, his sword outstretched and crossed with mine. At first, I think he is a white knight, but I soon realize that is impossible, as he is wearing a blue magician's robe, its hem sweeping the ground. Yet that makes no sense- if he is a magician, how can he possibly be wielding a sword?

As the lightning illuminates his face, I see that he has long hair that barely trails past his shoulders, a sharp amber color. His eyes are green, a shade of emerald that I have never seen before.

"It's you!" one of the priests screams, his staff outstretched. "F-Faber…!"

"Yes, that is me." the man says, his voice cold and calm.

Then he charges forward, the edge of his sword glowing with lightning, and in that instant, he raises his sword to the sky and bellows something that I cannot understand. At his call, five bolts of sapphire lightning rip the sky and strike down the Tsukuyomi grunts where they stand, leaving nothing but mangled corpses behind.

I stare in awe at the man named Faber; he takes little notice of me in return. He kneels over Charles, Susanne, and Elisabeth in turn and clucks his tongue empathetically.

"Heal thy mortal wounds with her sacred blessing." he whispers, and there is a soft flash of light as his hand glows with white energy, enveloping us all in its wake. I can feel the slash on my chest closing itself up as Charles, Susanne, and Elisabeth regain consciousness.

"Who are you?" I whisper, stretching out my hand almost as if to touch him.

He stands up and sheathes his rapier in a quick motion. "As you have heard, my name is Faber- Clarias Faber, to be exact. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have much more pressing matters to attend to-"

"Wait!" I call, my heart pounding, and he turns around briefly, a laissez-faire expression streaking his face.

"Yes?"

"I…" I can barely speak, so great is my excitement. "How did you do that?"

Clarias stands motionless for a second before he turns away once more. "That is not for you to know." In that frame of time, I can almost see something resembling remorse in his eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me, I really have to leave, Mr…"

"Ancalas." I say, breathlessly. "Kal Ancalas."

Clarias pauses, his mouth open in a slight "o" before he closes it. "I see." he says, running a hand across his forehead thoughtfully. "So Montag…yes."

"You know Montag- I mean, Drake?" I manage to sputter, confusion and surprise clouding my brain.

"Yes, I do." His gaze briefly floats towards the sky before it comes back to rest on me. "I must admit that this changes the circumstances considerably…" He reflects some more before fixing his gaze collectively on us. "It seems that you are in luck."

"How so?" I ask tentatively.

"You wanted to know how I cast that miraculously difficult arte some moments ago, yes?" Clarias replies calmly, his hair fluttering in the icy breeze.

"Yes…" I say slowly. Behind me, Charles, Susanne, and Elisabeth have gotten up, looks of utter confusion plastered across their faces.

"That…" he replies, equally slowly, "…is one of the greatest secrets that this world has ever kept." His gaze sharpens, narrows, as he looks at us. "If you come with me, I can grant you that secret, as well as many more. I can show you how to transcend the boundaries of mortals and unlock the secrets of this world, so that you never need fall to Tsukuyomi's abuses ever again."

His last sentence is what awakens me, and I see his eyes fall pensively on us, as though he knows something we don't.

"All I ask from you…" he says, his calm voice piercing through the whistling wind, "is a vow of secrecy. You must never reveal our secrets to anyone outside our group, no matter the circumstances."

"Group?" I stammer, my voice crippled by the cold. "You mean there's a group?"

Clarias closes his eyes. "Yes." he says, after a long silence. "I think it only fair to inform you that I am Clarias Resalia Faber, leader of the House of Vanir under the Goddess Amaterasu."

act X: lightning blade (60)

Shock is the prevailing sensation that rules my body, numbness spreading from my brain to the tips of my toes. It feels as if the blood in my body has been replaced by ice, a cold, liquid ice that remains even after we have left El Nath.

Clarias sends us back to the city with four scrolls, with explicit instructions to follow afterwards.

"I may have disposed of them, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be off our guard." he says, with the air of a man who has everything planned out and double-checked in his mind already. "They've probably got other agents in the forest, and that's the last damn thing we need."

"Then what do we do?"

Clarias closes his eyes briefly. "You four stay at the potion shop. Don't separate under any circumstances, even if you have to go to the bathroom. I'll contact the rest of the Vanir in El Nath to keep watch over the shop, so if anyone tries to attack, they'll have another think coming. I would have escorted you to Orbis myself, but I've got things to do, as you very well know." His eyes sharpen once more, his pupils narrowing.

"We can take care of ourselves." Susanne retorts indignantly, as though hiding like sissies isn't at the top of her list of things to do.

Clarias' emerald eyes flicker over her. "Right." he says, flatly. "Just like you took care of yourselves back in the forest."

Susanne blinks, at a rare loss for words, as Clarias turns away. "I won't sugarcoat this for you, dear- Tsukuyomi is ruthless. You four should know that by now. If they decide to use a combustion transion under your feet at this moment, what's stopping them?" His hand slides to the hilt of his rapier almost unconsciously, as if recalling a bad memory.

"What is a transion, anyway?" Charles pipes up, his voice as inquisitive as always. "Drake mentioned it before when Tsukuyomi attacked us at Golem's Temple-"

A momentary look of surprise graces Clarias' face. "They-" His face subsides into an uneasy frown as he rubs his chin and exhales deeply. "By Amaterasu's fan, this is worse than I thought."

"What do you mean?" I ask, before I can stop myself.

Clarias doesn't reply for some time. It is a drawn minute before he says, "Believe me when I say you're better off not knowing." He turns away so that his expression is shadowed and mutters something briefly, his palms clenched together.

"I've sent the transmission." he says quietly, not facing us. "Remember what I've said. I can't risk any more blood on my hands- not at this stage, anyway."

"But-" I start to say, but in the next moment, he is gone, leaving nothing but the wind in his wake.

"Beautiful." Charles mutters, throwing his hands up into the air. "Here we are, stuck in El Nath, and we've got a group of terrorists out for our blood." He exhales softly. "Great, isn't it?"

"As much as you're helping the mood, Charles, we don't have a choice." I say, turning towards the potion store. "The least we can do is listen to him- at the very least, we'll be safe."

"How does he know Drake, anyway?" Elisabeth asks, her clear voice breaking the silence as we trudge towards the wooden building.

"Isn't it obvious?" Susanne says, swiping her blade through the air. "He's a member of Amaterasu. It was under our noses the whole time. How else do you explain his tracking down so many Tsukuyomi members?"

"Thank you for that wonderful bit of insight, Susanne." Charles says, a faint, dry smile gracing his cracked lips, though I can sense a bit of genuine affection mixed in his sarcasm.

Unfortunately for him, Susanne doesn't notice, and her eyes seem to flash before she shuts the door behind us with a loud thump.

"Do you need anything?" the kindly girl asks behind the counter as we enter, a large scarf wrapped around her body, making her look like a giant dumpling.

"A reality pill would be nice." I mutter under my breath, but out loud I say, "Four red bean soups, please." As the others watch, I empty some coins onto the counter and watch as she ladles a thick, dark, melange stew into a series of bowls.

The door suddenly opens, and I brace myself for the worst.

"Montag!" the girl suddenly squeals excitedly, accidentally sending hot flecks of soup flying into my face. "You're here!"

"Good afternoon, Hana." Drake says, in his usual flat, cold tone. The girl doesn't seem to notice his blunt demeanor, though, and excitedly plunks another bowl onto the counter. "Here- let me-" In her haste, she splashes more soup onto my cuirass.

"Again, Hana?" A very, very faint smile touches the hunter's lips. "I must owe you a million mesos by now…"

"Oh- don't worry about it, Drake-san." she giggles, her face cherry-red. "It's my pleasure."

"Hm." Drake calmly stalks to the counter and neatly stacks three bowls on top of each other, carrying the whole thing with unerring precision. "Good to see you, Ancalas."

"You too, Drake." I mutter, taking the other two bowls to the table. "I thought you were busy-"

"I was, until Clarias sent me here to guard your asses." Drake says calmly, taking a sip from his soup. "I assume you have met Clarias by now."

Silence hangs over our heads for a few moments.

"Why didn't you tell us?" I finally ask.

"Tell you what?" Drake replies, his blizzard-blue eyes gazing over the rim of the bowl.

"That you were…part of Amaterasu." My eyes stare down at the soup in my hands; I don't want to meet his gaze. "You could have told us a long time ago-"

Drake laughs, his voice as cold as the snow as steam rises over his face. "Would that have changed anything?"

"It wouldn't have hurt." Charles mumbles, his face bowed over his bowl as well.

"You are so naïve." Drake says, waving a hand petulantly in our general direction. "Being a part of Amaterasu is no picnic, I can assure you. How would you like to be chased down by a worldwide group of terrorists every day, knowing you're all that stands between them and total anarchy?"

"Sounds fun." Charles says, dryly. "We've already had our share of trouble with Tsukuyomi- why not just make it a career?"

"Because you don't know what they're capable of." Drake mutters, a dismal look passing over his face. "Everything you've seen so far- Constantine, the guys at Golem's Temple, the people at zombies- that's nothing. Nothing." His eyes, as cold as they may be, carry a faint shadow of regret. "You may think you know them, just petty criminals making monsters fly and stealing items- that's what everyone thinks. But when you're part of Amaterasu, the illusion, my friends…is gone."

"Really?" Elisabeth whispers. It's quiet, save for the sound of snow beating on the walls outside.

Drake shakes his head as a single oaken hair flutters to the table. "I've seen them slaughter people like pigs. One by one, until there's nothing left. You're making a big sacrifice by joining Amaterasu- I can tell you that much." He glowers back down into his soup as though there's an enemy inside, shooting daggers at it with his eyes.

"Less of a sacrifice than letting the other side win." Susanne replies matter-of-factly, tracing a line across the rim of her bowl.

Drake's gaze becomes glassy. "I suppose." he murmurs quietly, running his callused fingers along the grain of the wooden table.

The door opens a second time, and Clarias is standing there, his rapier outstretched.

"Ah, you're all here." he says, neatly sheathing it. "I was worried that-"

"Don't be. Area's clear." Drake cuts him off, waving a hand. "Asteria and I've already secured the ground area, and Reynard's on the cliff above us. Any unauthorized person who crosses within fifty yards of this door will get a nice faceful of lightning transion."

Clarias still looks apprehensive, but he sheathes his blade as his eyes dart around the walls. "Very well. Now, the question of how to transport you all to Orbis still begs to be answered-"

"You can use the tethers." Drake cuts in, draining the last of his bowl. "The power reserves for them should be charged up already."

"Always practical, Montag." Clarias murmurs dryly, casting an amused glance around the room. "Very well, I suppose it's either that or an exhilarating romp up the annals of Orbis Tower…"

He then fixes his emerald stare upon us. "I am sorry." he says, as he rakes a hand across his hair. "I realize how confusing all this must seem to you…but I assure you it will all make sense sooner or later, and hopefully sooner."

He then seizes ahold of my hand and Charles's, and motions for Drake to take Susanne and Elisabeth. "I warn you, this may feel somewhat peculiar at first."

He firmly clenches my hand, and all of a sudden a mystical sensation washes over me. All the strength leaves my body, and it is almost as if I am melting into the ground below. I try to remain conscious, but my vision fades briefly before it subsides into nothing.

When I awake, I can feel the hard, cold surface of marble tile underneath my head, as though I've awoken from a deep sleep. Every joint in my body feels sore, like I've just been stretched into spaghetti, and it is some time before my vision stops spinning.

"Good, you're alive." A hand reaches out and touches mine, and I seize it without thinking. I am pulled roughly to my feet, and I see the familiar face of Charles Verana staring at me.

"Charles…" My voice feels rough, my throat sore. "What…just happened?"

"Long story, short explanation." Charles brushes matted hair from my face with a gentle motion of his hand. "Clarias and the others are waiting for us."

Without really paying attention to where I'm going, I allow my footsteps to follow his. Dimly, I realize I'm in some sort of hall, chandeliers and sconces adorning the ceiling and walls and casting a warm glow across the wide chamber. The walls are edged with ornate gold trim, though we walk by much too quickly to admire it.

Moments later, we're in a small room, most of which is occupied by a round table with five seats. Three of the seats are currently housing Clarias, his arms calmly folded across the table, and Susanne and Elisabeth, leaning on their elbows.

"He's alive." Charles announces unceremoniously, guiding me into a chair and sitting in the seat next to me. I can feel everyone's breaths hanging in the air like icicles. I open my mouth to say something, but in the face of Clarias' solemn expression, my words fall to the side, unheard by any.

"So." Clarias regards us all like a mother hawk watching her eggs. "If you are, then, going to be joining our little coalition of sorts, I suppose there are a few things I must clarify for you, lest Tsukuyomi's cursed blades rend you to shreds…"

He pauses and takes a draft from a cup of water sitting in the center of the table. "As you all very well know, Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu are two factions warring against each other; two halves of the same coin, if you will. At our heart lies the same basic principles, yet over time, those principles have been corrupted towards utterly different destinies. It is because of this that we have been forced into our cycle of death, bound to destroy one another as long as we exist. However…" His eyes blaze a furious emerald. "It is our duty- as scions of the one true Goddess, Amaterasu- to end this conflict before it is too late."

No one speaks a word as Clarias' eyes dart across the room like chain lightning. "You all know that in order to utilize the techniques that the four masters of Victoria have granted you, a force known as mana is required. However, in order to truly unravel and understand the secrets of our magic, you must delve even further…to the very construction of mana itself. And therein," he says, indicating Charles with a wave of his hand, "lies the secret of the transion."

"But…" Charles' face is ashen with confusion. "I don't…"

"Mana is thought of as a universal force that resides in all things," Clarias continues, unperturbed, "but in reality it is much more. The force of mana as we know it is composed of untold trillions, quadrillions of particles known as ions. By focusing the ions within and around you, it is how you are able to invoke techniques and cast magic. At its core, that is how the system of magic operates; control the ions, and you control the world."

"Now," Clarias goes on, his fingers resting firmly across the table, "suppose you were to discover a higher form of the ion- a particle charged with even more energy than a normal ion. What if you were to harness this higher form, separate it from the other ions? What if you could even charge the ions yourself? You cannot even begin to imagine the possibilities that could occur. Ions in their normal state are very limited, restraining us to the bare boundaries of magic. It is through these charged ions, the transions, that Tsukuyomi has been able to do the deeds that they have done. With these, they have made monsters fly, stolen the world's treasures from under its eyes, and slaughtered untold billions of innocent creatures at an appalling rate."

"Then that's it." I say, putting a hand to my forehead. "This is how Constantine- he killed all those fire boars, like nothing."

"Precisely." Clarias says, folding his hands flat onto the table. "And it is also how we- the scions of Amaterasu- are able to use our own abilities. Unlike the dark arts of Tsukuyomi, we use transions to extend the limits of our bodies, to grant ourselves abilities far beyond those of others. It is how we are able to combine the powers of the four classes, to create abilities that others can only dream of."

My hands go slack at this revelation. "So that's how you were able to use the abilities of a swordsman and magician at the same time!"

"Yes, or rather the abilities of a White Knight, Crusader, Priest, and Ice/Lightning Mage." Clarias murmurs, his eyes focused over to the table. "It is also how we are able to use abilities that far surpass our level- I believe you must have seen Drake cast Inferno at least once despite his being at least twenty levels away from the third job advancement."

"So…how do we use these transions?" I ask.

The silence coalesces almost immediately after it is broken, save only for the sound of Clarias' fingertips caressing the table in thought.

"It is not something you can truly be taught." he says, quietly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of ominous forebodings. "You must find it within yourselves to seek the transions from around you, to manipulate them…only then will you be able to unlock their secrets. As the oft-quoted proverb goes, I can show you the doors, but you must open them yourself…and pray to the gods that you choose the right path."

Seeing the looks on our faces, he straightens up in his seat and clears his throat. "You need not worry greatly, however. By learning of their existence, you have already taken the first step towards their mastery- a step that the great majority of the world has yet to discover."

He straightens, and his face is less wistful and more business as he looks at us. "I must apologize, for that is all the explanation I can afford you. If you wish for more precise instruction, I suggest you contact one of the Vanir, as they will be more than happy to assist you. After all, we do need all the support we can get." His eyes seem somewhat misty for a moment, and he turns away, his hair dancing lightly at the base of his shoulders.

We are silent, as there is nothing more we can say. It is as if the entire world has collapsed from inside out- here is the secret of Tsukuyomi, these transions- and we are going to learn them as well. We will no longer have to worry about further abuse at the hands of the accursed hackers.

Clarias slides his chair inwards to the table and leaves, his teal-colored robe sweeping the floor. I notice that his cape, which is a shade of ivory, is embroidered with a gallant golden cross. He seems to throw one last glance at us before he vanishes into the abyss of the hallways.

"Well." Charles' voice breaks the silence, his fingers kneading the table's surface as his eyes stare blankly into space. "So that was it, the whole time."

As the door is about to close, it swings open once more to reveal Drake, dressed in a neat, trim hauberk of crimson, its edges laced with gold. Like Clarias, he's wearing a cross-emblazoned cape, though its color is silver.

"I see he's told you about the transions." he says bluntly, offering us little more than his usual stiff voice.

"It sounds complicated." Susanne says conversationally, trying to break the ice.

Drake doesn't falter. "It is. But at your level, you'll have a bit more flexibility in what you want to train." His eyes flash briefly once more, and I can think I almost see a bit of manic excitement in his cold pupils. "You might want to consider only choosing transions within your own class; you'll probably kill yourself if you're, say, for instance, a warrior, and you try casting Explosion or Thunder Spear right off the bat."

"Clarias did it." Elisabeth speaks up, her voice lending a welcome relief to the cold halls of Amaterasu's headquarters.

"Well, you aren't Clarias." Drake says simply, crossing his arms as a tacit sign that conversation, for the most part, is over.

"If we don't even know what the hell we're supposed to be doing, how are we going to practice?" Charles retorts.

Drake pauses, his voice hanging in the air by a thread. "You study, genius. If you're a bandit and you want to learn Drain, then pick up an assassin's book. Also, practice your regular techniques until you can pull them off in your sleep. You won't be able to distinguish the transions if you aren't using your abilities to the greatest level of mastery possible. And above all, be aware. Make sure you can actually feel the transions' charge when you cast artes- don't just take it all for granted that you'll learn something overnight. You'll never learn anything if you try to wing it and pray everything comes out right."

"So…it's all just study and practice?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Drake says, his eyes staring up into the ceiling. "But then again, isn't that what everything in life is?"

I can't answer the question.

act XI: valhalla (70)

"Every path is unique." Clarias says to us a few months after our initiation. It's a sunny day, and the clouds are light and fluffy in the sky over Orbis.

"It's all written in your body composition, your mana signature. Each person reacts differently to transions, and as such, will have uniquely different abilities as they mature. You can have a set of identical twins, with one of them becoming a crusader-priest and the other a ranger-hermit. It all depends on the person."

"But transions involving two or more base classes are very rare, right?" Charles cuts in.

"Extremely rare." Clarias says, with a touch of relish. "You'd be surprised how many people inadvertently commit suicide trying to breach that barrier. I'd say if you're a warrior, stick to being a warrior. If you're a magician, stick to being a magician. In the game of transions, the most important thing is not to kill yourself- that's someone else's job."

"What are the different effects that transions can have on your body?" Susanne asks, her swords laying neatly across her back in a pair of identical sheaths.

She's learned to use two blades at once.

"It depends." Clarias says, with a minor shrug. "In most cases, you'll be able to use the abilities of the different subclasses of your main base class- for example, a crusader would most likely focus his attention on learning white knight and dragon knight techniques. But some others choose to focus their attention on skills in their own branch, honing them to perfection. You may end up learning a third or fourth-job skill at a much earlier level than you would have if you had followed the system. Still others go above and beyond that, modifying the skills they've learned to greater, deadlier forms. A few notable artes have been invented in this way."

He pauses to stare upwards for a moment, while Charles, Susanne, Elisabeth, and I stand behind. My armor is a series of silver plates, inlaid with gold trim, while Charles wears a studded jacket and pants, knives hidden in his belt and pockets as a cutter gleams at his wrist. You can barely look at him without getting a glare off the sunlight.

Susanne is wearing armor as well, though it's less bulky and greatly more flexible than mine. It's a neatly stitched chainmail set with shoulder, elbow and knee plates which do a good amount of justice to her figure. Her ponytail hangs to her waist, completing the ensemble. As for Elisabeth, her clothing is simple but elegant, a white mother-of-pearl dress with several hems touching the ground. A wand of bluish wing-tipped crystal resides in her hand.

"I suppose you'll be all right getting from Victoria and back by yourselves, then?" he asks, a touch of concern in his voice, almost fatherly.

"Of course." I say, my hand trailing to the hilt of the gigantic Doombringer in its sheath.

"Good." Clarias says, turning away. "Keeping track of everyone can be quite exhausting sometimes." There's a slight bit of dryness in his tone which I can't quite discern. "Do take care of yourselves." In the next moment, his outline seems to shimmer in the light before it vanishes, leaving nothing but sunshine and silence behind.

My eyes seem to trace his disappearing outline in the wind. During the short months that I have been a part of Amaterasu, I have seen Clarias as a father figure, and yet he is young enough to be my older brother. I've never asked him his age, but I believe he would be in his early or mid-twenties with his current physique.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got to go practice some with these knives." Charles says, twirling a Steely calmly around his index finger. "Seriously, I don't know how these assassins manage. You'd think they'd get carpal tunnel after flinging these things at least a thousand times a day…"

"Why don't you try it and find out?" I say, half-jokingly, and Charles' face reddens considerably before he turns away, no doubt heading towards Orbis Park to single out some pixies or Grupins for target practice. Elisabeth leaves as well, her crystalline eyes hanging on me for the sweetest fraction of a second before she vanishes through the gates. Only Susanne and I are left, our hair fluttering in the breeze.

She breaks the silence first. "We've changed, haven't we?"

"Yes, if you want to put it like that."

Briefly, I recall a hot summer night in Maple Island with a certain dark-haired, glasses-wearing future chief bandit/assassin-in-training.

She steps closer. Her voice is unnaturally soft, like swan feathers. "What do you think of all this?"

"I…well, I honestly don't care one way or the other, you know. Just as long as I don't have to put up with any more crap from those air-headed assholes from Tsukuyomi-"

My voice stops, and I realize how awkward the moment is. Here I am, talking to a girl I've known my entire life, who I've never thought of truly as a girlfriend but rather as a female companion, and the damned proverbial cat's got my tongue.

"It just feels so weird." she says quietly, turning her face away from mine and gazing into the pristine sky. "Years ago, I never would have thought of making it to a crusader. I would have been happy just living quietly in Victoria Island and not having to worry about Tsukuyomi or anything."

"I know." I shake my head. "We've been through a lot together, you and me and Charles."

"Yes, Charles." she says, his name rolling off her tongue with a strange air. "He's really grown up."

"I suppose." I say, the faint semblance of a smile appearing on my lips. Despite the fact that Charles and I now have the same height, I've always thought of him as the smaller of the two of us, the warrior and his faithful sidekick. Second-best.

Old habits die hard, and with them go Susanne's gaze.

"You look- nice." I say, to break the silence if nothing more.

A strange look comes over my childhood friend's eyes, her breath picking up as she stares at me with the chocolate-colored pupils I've never seen so close before.

"You've really grown up, too." she says, her voice barely audible.

That is the last thing she says before I can feel a moment of warm sweetness on my lips, a sweetness I have never seen in her before this moment. To be completely honest, it was a total shock- Susanne Lacrian, one of my childhood friends and neighbors, was kissing me on the lips as if it were nothing at all.

To this day, I still don't know if I returned the kiss or not.

She breaks away from me, the strange look still in her eyes, and slips her hand in mine. Underneath her gauntlets of leather, steel, and adamantine, there's a warmth, a warmth of tender skin that lingers on my palm.

"I've liked you for a long time, Kal." she says quietly, the words barely slipping past my ears, and then she is gone, leaving me with nothing but my own amazement and shock.

My hands fall limp at my sides as my eyes barely catch her figure retreating towards Orbis Park.

I realize, with a strange feeling resting in my gut, that Fate has played a trick upon me; Susanne has fallen in love with me, been in love with me the whole time, and I have never realized it until now.

Yet, I do not love her. Charles Verana does. It is her name he spoke on the day he danced with death through Constantine's cruel blade. It is the name he does not have the courage to utter directly to its owner, as his heart dances with thoughts of her.

I wonder if I should tell her, but the words dissolve on my tongue as I stare past the gates of Orbis Park.

I know I should be training, but my footsteps fall towards the large building where the headquarters of Amaterasu stand. Silently, I pass faces I've never known, some with swords, some with staves, some with bows and some with knives. Each face glances into mine before it fades into my thoughts, a face I might have seen walking down the street or buying a piece of fruit several years ago, a face I may never see again for the rest of my life.

They have all taken the same path I have, and remembering Drake's words, we have all made the greatest sacrifice of our lives- the loss of innocence, of believing blindly that there is no evil in the world.

I pause and turn towards the room where Clarias first discussed transions months ago, and find him calmly sitting there in a rare moment of free time. His eyes are focused on the book that lays on the table, his hair falling over his somewhat-glassy eyes. He turns the page once before looking up.

"Ah, Ancalas." His voice is calm and fair, as if he hasn't got a care in the world. "It is good to see you."

"You, too." My eyes flicker around the walls, so as to avoid catching his gaze. "I thought you were off doing something else."

"Well, given that I finished my tasks exceedingly quickly, I allowed myself a little free time." Clarias smiles jovially, acting more like Father Christmas than the leader of a terrorist-resistance guild. "You seem a bit troubled, however." His emerald-colored eyes peer upwards, boring into mine. "Is something the matter?"

My mouth forms the words before they die out- I have no intention of confiding my personal troubles to someone I've barely known for a few months. "No. I was just…taking a walk."

"So I see." Clarias' pupils seem to detach themselves from his eyes, his deepsea gaze floating upwards serenely. For a moment, I think I can see a bit of forlorn expression written on his features, as though there is something he regrets. "Walking is a good means of relieving stress, though I prefer reading myself." He indicates the book lying flat on the table with a movement of his hand before tracing a line across its pages. Dust flies into the air, visible for a second in the artificial light of the room. "You should read this mythology sometime- it's quite interesting."

"Really?" I ask, half-bored and yet half-interested at the same time.

"Yes." Clarias' eyes seem to fall across the paper, light and shadow intertwined in the reflection of his pupils. I've noticed that whenever the leader of Amaterasu is in a room, his eyes seem to be the main focal point of the entire room.

"They say that this world was created by two ultimate deities of creation, Izanagi and Izanami." Clarias says quietly, his eyes seeming to slip out of focus, caught in the flow of the story. "Brought into existence by the legendary lance Ame-no-nuhoko, they used the spear to storm the seas below and bring up the islands of Maple, Victoria, and Ossyria. After they had done so, they bore their three children upon each of these islands- Susano'o, deity of lightning, his sister Amaterasu, the goddess of the sun, and their sister Tsukuyomi, god of the moon."

My eyes flicker open in surprise. So that is where the two factions got their name from- the battle between the sun and moon, light and darkness, good and evil.

"To make an exceedingly long story short, Ame-no-nuhoko was broken soon after the birth of the three gods." Clarias continues, his eyes half-closed, caught in the depths of his own tale. "It separated into three pieces, of which each sibling received one. Susano'o claimed the sword Kusanagi, Amaterasu received the mirror Yata, and Tsukuyomi took the sacred jewel Yasakani. Thus were the Three Fates born; the three sacred items that would ensure the survival of the new world.

"And for a time, all was well, and the world prospered in safety. But eons after the passing of the original three siblings, their descendants in Heaven fought a war over the Fates, a war so fierce that it nearly destroyed the entire world. This war, known as Ragnarok, was fought between the armies of the gods of Valhalla, descendants of Amaterasu- Odin, Frigga, Thor, Freyr, Freyja, and Heimdall- and the armies of the exiled god, Loki, a distant scion of Tsukuyomi, and his monstrous children Fenrir, the grey wolf, Jormungand the poison serpent, and Hel the decaying girl.

"It was fated that Ragnarok would be the day the gods were destroyed once and for all and control of the world would be given to the humans. Knowing this, the gods of Valhalla attempted to destroy the Fates in the hope that the humans would not abuse their powers for evil and destroy the world. However, they were only partially successful- they succeeded in breaking each of the Fates in two, but not in destroying them. As it turned out, each of the halves of the Fates were claimed by the two sides and reforged into a weapon. Thus, the two halves of Kusanagi became the blades Heimdall and Fenrir; the two fragments of Yata were molded into the staves Yggdrasill and Helfyre; and the two shards of Yasakani were set into the bows Ratatosk and Jormungand. The ancient weapons remained even after the destruction of the gods, and they are destined to lie dormant until the end of time itself."

Clarias finishes the whole thing with a tired sigh, his brows knitting as he runs his fingertips across his forehead. My mind swims as I try to process the information all at once- the battle between Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi, the creation of the Fates, everything just seems so sudden, and I cannot figure out why Clarias would invoke this bit of mythology at a time like this.

"They don't…actually exist, do they?" I say, my hands tightening upon the table. "The Fates can't possibly…"

Clarias shakes his head balefully. "As incredible as it may sound, they do exist, though I doubt they arose from such a divine origin. It is more likely that they were forged by a master weapon smith who was much taken with the legend and forged replicas of the Fates. In any case, it is worth noting that they are extremely powerful artifacts; they have even been said to cast transions of their own accord. Certainly, they would grant incredible power to those lucky- and strong- enough to wield one."

He casts a sober gaze at the surface of the table. "I should tell you that the leader of Tsukuyomi has already found one of the Fates, Fenrir."

"What?!"

"Yes, and that is why it is our duty to find the others as soon as possible," Clarias murmurs, suddenly looking very old, "lest the world be plunged into darkness forevermore."

He stands up abruptly, and I blink as his teal-colored robe sweeps the floor.

"I am sorry for telling you this, especially as it does not concern you, but perhaps it might be as well." he murmurs, his fingers closing around the hilt of his rapier. "After all, the Vanir are sacrificing all they can for my sake…perhaps more than I have ever asked them to, and I worry that at any moment they may fall apart."

There is something about his voice that is oddly prophetic, and I wince inwardly as his words flow over me. He leaves the room quietly, so quietly his footsteps are lost in silence. My eyes catch his silhouette for a split second before it vanishes into the air, leaving me alone with the heavy book on the table.

I pick it up and open it, and a single line catches my eyes at the bottom of the page.

The day that the Fates of the sun and moon are together shall be the day that we kill the gods.

I close the book, and at that, Charles Verana enters.

His dark hair is strewn about his forehead, errant scratches luridly decorating his face. Knives gleam at his belt, showing his progress in the ways of the assassin. The blade of a Kandine knife peeks from between his fingers, its blade shining in the artificial light of the room. There is a beatific, determined look in his eyes- the brilliance of someone determined to prove himself, no matter what.

Privately, I can't help but feel a little irony in my gut. Bandits and assassins are supposed to be tough, uncaring towards the world, looking out for only themselves- all the storybooks and personal experience in the world have taught me that. Yet, Charles is the exact opposite- timid and shy, and perhaps a little sarcastic at times, but ultimately a good companion.

He would have been perfect for Susanne.

"You all right?" he says, catching the look on my face. "I was starting to think you'd died of depression or something…"

"Hm." I can't suppress a smile, weak as it is. "And what'd you do all day, besides worry yourself about me?"

"Practiced some stuff." he says shortly, his smile fading a little. "You'd be surprised how difficult it is to try and throw knives on top of having to learn everything else as a chief bandit…" He breathes out and leans against the table, his fingers splayed out against the flat surface. "If I'd known it was this difficult, I wouldn't have bothered."

"But you did." I say, touching his shoulder briefly. "We all did, knowing that. And we aren't dead anyway- not yet, at least."

"You're right, I guess." He caresses the knives on his belt almost tenderly. "We have to remember why we did this in the first place."

His eyes briefly become misty, and I know there's something hidden behind those lenses that I know he will never tell me, not until the end of time itself.

act XII: innocence's requiem (75)

Sparks fly through the air as the sound of steel against steel rings across the landscape of Orbis.

"Come on Kal, you can do better than that!" Susanne calls, her crimson blades slashing crescents through the air as her ponytail flows behind her like a dragon's tail. She is elegance defined, her lift armor and curved katanas contrasting against my own plates and greatsword.

For a moment, I think I can see what Charles sees in her, elegance and beauty fused into one, so different from the companion she was several years ago. She is a grown woman now, a crusader in her own right.

Sweet irony that I still think of Charles as a child.

I close my eyes and sift the air with my mind, searching for the precious ions and transions that give life to my artes. My mastery is nowhere near perfect, but good enough, and I take ahold of the particles and draw them together. They coalesce, and with a single thought I draw out their energy.

I cast the incantation for Lightning Charge in my mind and feel a burst of power as bolts of electricity sluice up and down the length of the Doombringer, its handle humming as though it is alive. I assume a stance before lashing out with a diagonal strike, and Susanne manages to catch the incoming edge between her own two swords. Strain flashes upon her face as she struggles against the gigantic brand.

I see her eyes close in concentration before she casts a transion of her own, her swords repelling mine with a sudden burst of strength as wind lashes against my face. Her blades glow with light for a moment before she charges forward, her katanas crashing against my sword in a perpendicular cross. Photons of light fly through the air as the metal makes contact.

Closing my eyes, I decide to break her stance with a transion of my own, and draw upon the ions in the air once more. Focusing energy into the two poles of my sword, I combine fire and ice and wrench past her guard with a high-powered elemental burst. Charged particles flit through the air for a moment before they dissipate, a moment of beauty in the heat of battle.

"You've…really gotten good with those elemental transions, Kal." she pants, a rare smile on her face. Sweat shines her hair as she holds her swords aloft, not willing to give up as usual.

"Susanne, are you done with him yet or do I have to wait until you bury him six feet under?"

Charles is standing there, knives about his fingers as his Kandine gleams in the winter morning. A long scarf is wrapped around his neck for extra warmth, his normally-short vest reinforced with dark chain sleeves and pant legs. It's starting to snow lightly, and the white flakes are visible against his dark clothing. The only article of clothing he's wearing that isn't a shade of night, aside from his scarf, is his cape, parted down the middle, its color a brilliant ivory.

It's similar to the one everyone wears.

"I'd watch out if I were you, Verana." Susanne gives her childhood friend a rare moment of compassion, a rare smile streaking her lips. "He's pretty good at elemental artes now."

"Like hell he is." Charles mutters, twirling his trademark Steelies around his fingers in helixes. "He's been doing the least practicing out of all of us these days."

"Shut up, Charles." I point the Doombringer half-threateningly at him.

For a brief moment, I imagine that we are no longer white knight, crusader, and chief bandit, but simply three innocent children on the shores of Maple Island, enjoying ourselves without a care in the world.

However, it is only a moment.

The first indication I get that something is wrong is when Elisabeth runs up, her black hair flying in the snowy wind as she clutches her staff in hand. Her appearance is bittersweet; it seems that the less I see of her the more beautiful she seems, and I realize that just as Charles never gets as close to Susanne as he'd like, I am the same with her.

Her expression is one of worry, not joy, though- and as happy as I am to see her, I realize she isn't here for good cheer.

The second indication I receive is the arrival of Drake, his own expression looking like one of death as he walks silently across the snow-dusted stone paths that surround Amaterasu's headquarters. He has trained much more than we have recently, the sign of this being the limbs of a Fire Arund resting in the quiver on his back. A dark-colored robe covers his body, a deviation from his usual blood-colored clothing. Similar greaves are protecting his heels.

He is no more cheerful than the day we first met him, his dark ice-blue eyes perfectly matching the snowy landscape.

"They've found us." he says, his voice a cold aura of death.

I can feel the Doombringer slipping slightly from my grip, either from shock or numb from the cold- or perhaps both. I also don't need to ask twice to know who "they" are.

Charles is silent, as is Susanne, and from the snow, I can see more figures of Amaterasu's ranks emerging from the whiteness, obviously senior officers of some sort. A tall woman with dark brown hair and a full-grown figure, clad in a prim suit, appears from nowhere and stands next to Drake, talking with him. Knives hang at her belt, a shortsword tucked into a sheath accompanying it. Another man, with light blonde hair and sharp spectacles, emerges from the white shadows, ice scattered through his hair. He has a large skull-tipped staff hitched across his back, a spear-blade protruding through the skull.

"The Vanir." Elisabeth whispers softly, as Drake continues talking and more figures appear. "The senior officers of Amaterasu."

After a few short minutes, the Vanir part as Clarias walks through the small congregation, his familiar teal-colored robe sweeping the snowy walkway. His rapier is unsheathed, but it hangs at his side as he talks.

"Has everyone been alerted?" he asks a tall, skull-helmeted swordsman standing by, his massive silver blade held at the ready.

The swordsman answers with a simple grunt.

"Well, that's wonderful." Clarias mutters, before focusing his attention on us. "I suppose you've heard the news."

"Yes." I tighten my grip on the blade. "What do you want us to do?"

Clarias sighs. "I won't hide anything from you here. If Tsukuyomi sees you, they'll kill you- and it's no use to hide, they'll just flush us out with gravity transions. Our only consolation is that the force they're sending isn't too large, so we've got nothing to do except charge and hope we win."

I can see distress scrawled across Charles' face, and Susanne's expression is unreadable. Elisabeth looks somewhat scared, and I don't blame her at all- I feel exactly the same way inside.

My hand reaches out to touch hers, but Susanne's fingers take mine first- and as her touch mingles with mine, I can hear her voice whisper three short words.

As she does so, I look at Charles, silently brooding to himself as he fingers his dagger, and I can't bear it anymore.

I break her grip and walk over to him, touching his shoulder as snow falls.

"Scared?"

His face turns the color of the snow before it goes back to its original color. "Of course I am. Who wouldn't be?"

"Charles, I-"

His face intently stares at mine, the admiring child and best friend, and I realize I can't bear to tell him, because it would hurt him more than any blade, and that is the last thing I want.

"They'll breach our shields in sixty seconds." the woman standing next to Drake says, her voice cool and emotionless. I steal a glance at the Vanir, and am surprised to find that there is not the least bit of trepidation on their faces- they are welcoming death, totally unafraid of it, as they stand there.

Drake nods in response and strings his bow neatly, fire dancing at his fingertips as his oaken hair flutters in the icy breeze. Snow is starting to cover the ground now, about a half-inch of drift covering the heels of my boots.

I notice that Drake is the youngest member of the Vanir.

"Good luck." Clarias says, his eyes glancing at us as he holds his rapier aloft. I look up one last time and see the affection in his eyes for us, almost as though we are intimate members of his family.

That is the last thing I remember before the floodgates of hell burst.

I can hear screams, shouts, and explosions in the distance and know that they are coming- the Vanir ready themselves, their expressions hardening just a slight bit. Aside from me, Charles gulps and draws his knives, while Susanne holds her swords as icy sweat pours down her neck. Elisabeth is wide-eyed as usual, clutching to her staff for dear life.

I feel as though there's something I should say to them, but words die away as the silhouettes of people emerge in the far-off distance.

"This is it." Clarias says, raising his blade to the white sky. "Know this- that you fight for the lives of those untarnished by greed- that if you die, you shall be protecting the innocent under the wings of Amaterasu- and that your children's children shall remember you until the end of time! Now charge!"

His voice is like that of a thunderbolt, and it instantly galvanizes the Vanir- with a single, full-throated war cry, they draw their weapons and charge forward to meet the Tsukuyomi attackers. I see Drake's face for a fraction of a second, his ice-blue eyes cold and determined- before he disappears in a sea of faces I may never see again.

I clench my blade as flame dances up and down its length. It's now or never.

Charles whispers the incantation for Haste under his breath, and with that we run across the snow to meet our destiny.

The sight as we move near is indescribable. Both those of Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu are fighting to a degree of skill I have never seen before- I can feel the transions being cast, so great is the energy in the air. Bodies are constantly being thrown into the air, another life lost to the madness of war between good and evil.

"Stay close." I whisper, before Charles and I charge forward, adrenaline flowing through our veins. I can barely glimpse Susanne and Elisabeth for a second before a member of Tsukuyomi lunges towards us, his spear glowing with energy-

Without flinching, Charles cleaves his arm through the air and sends two knives into the knight's chest, the razor-sharp points of the kunai piercing his armor with loud cracks. He staggers briefly, and in that frame of time, I make my move. There is a rush of energy as I thrust the blade forward, and then suddenly, the snow becomes red.

My eyes catch Charles' gaze briefly. Now I am a murderer.

All of a sudden, lightning strikes mere inches away from me, and I dive to the side to see a dark-haired magician, his face contorted into a cruel snarl as he points his staff at us. He swipes his staff once more, and suddenly I can feel myself flying through the air towards him, caught in a gravity transion. Images of Constantine and fire boars are flooding through my head, and I realize I'm going to die.

But I refuse to go quietly- concentrating my fury, I combine fire and lightning transions and stab the sword through the air even as I soar towards my demise. The transions split the air, creating a mighty shockwave of energy- and it collides with the mage at point-blank range just before he can cast another spell. He is sent flying, his charred and broken body crashing to the side like a rag doll.

I catch a glimpse of Charles furiously dueling with a swordsman before I meet the rabid gaze of an assassin, his face twisted as energy coalesces in his hand, and a massive throwing star is suddenly in his fist. With massive strength, he hurls it at me, and I can barely block it in time- it seems to move as though defying the laws of aerophysics.

He clenches his fist, and two more stars appear in his hands. I dive to the side, but that does not stop them- they seem to bend aside before changing their course towards me, and I realize he has applied a transion to his technique. With no room to draw my sword and block, I call upon a transion of my own, surrounding myself with a field of electricity. The resulting charge is enough to deflect the projectiles' path, giving me time to get to my feet and destroy them.

Snarling, the assassin readies himself for a third assault, but before he can do so, the blade of a katana suddenly appears through his chest, and he gives a great gasp once before toppling forward. Behind him, I see the familiar ponytail of Susanne, both her blades shiny with blood. There are several cuts across her face and armor, most of which are bleeding fresh.

I turn to the side and see Drake and the female Vanir from before dueling against a Tsukuyomi swordsman and magician. Drake closes his eyes and pulls back the string of his bow, and there is a thunderous noise as a helix of flame spirals from his hand and lunges towards the hackers. Wordlessly, the mage raises his staff and deflects the assault with a simple swipe of his wrist- only to return it tenfold as a sudden explosion rends the air near Drake, throwing both of the Vanir across the ground. Drake manages to get up with minor burns and bruises, but the woman isn't as lucky- nearly all of her face has been burned by the attack, destroying her previous beauty. She lies unmoving upon the ground, snow covering her scorched figure.

"Asteria!" Drake screams in despair, but she is long gone, and with a feral snarl, he raises his bow and lets loose a firestorm of flaming arrows in rapid succession, so quickly it appears like a single blast of continuous fire. I can see the mage's face contort as he tries to block the repeated attacks- only to be thwarted as Drake casts a second transion, a large fountain-like stream of fire exploding from the ground at high velocity. Both the swordsman and the mage are tossed through the air, their burned bodies hitting the ground several yards away with unmoving thuds.

Silently, I watch as Drake kneels over Asteria and touches her shoulder. For a moment, I think I can see a tear fall from his face, but it may just have been an errant snowflake. I see him mouth some words silently before he gets up, the same manic, feral expression across his face as he lunges deeper into the fray.

All of a sudden, a blinding storm of ice comes howling towards me, and I can only manage to block it by casting a fire transion. A Tsukuyomi sniper is standing there, madness crossing his face as he is flanked by a bandit and a ranger, their weapons leveled at me. I can feel trepidation rising inside me- there is no way I'll be able to survive a three-on-one assault, yet I cannot give up, for the world's sake.

I charge forward, and this surprises them- why is this hopelessly outnumbered warrior charging towards his death?- for a precious moment, and I manage to stab the sniper clean through the chest, the fiery Doombringer passing through his body.

As he dies, he lets out a dreadful cry- I still can't describe it. It sounds as though a possessed soul is leaving his body. As he slumps lifelessly to the ground, I hear him utter a few words in a voice so soft and weak, it is as though it comes from the mouth of a newborn child.

"My love…I'm so…sorry…" he breathes, blood seeping from his mouth before he collapses backwards. This all happens in a fraction of a second, and I realize in the remainder of that time that his companions aren't going to let me get away so soon. I raise my blade to block, though I know it is futile, and await death-

A sudden burst of blue lightning barrels through the assassin and ranger before they can strike, throwing grotesque patterns of blood across the snow as their bodies roll away. I turn to the side and see Clarias, his rapier raised as his teal uniform flutters at his heels. Blood is streaking his face from a cut on his forehead.

"Clarias!" I manage to gasp, my lungs hurting from the cold air. "Thank the Goddess you-"

"No time for that, look behind you!" the leader of the Vanir shouts, and I whirl around just in time to meet the blade of a large crescent axe as it hurtles towards my neck. I meet the enemy crusader's gaze for a moment before I cast, wrenching my sword upwards in a shower of ice. The pointed shards of frozen water streak his armor and face, leaving bloody trails behind- before he can react, I wrench the sword through the air once more and crush his side. He falls, blood pooling from his mouth, his weapon hitting the ground with a thud.

Behind me, Clarias duels valiantly against a team of another crusader and a dragon knight, their gigantic weapons dwarfing his own thin rapier. Yet Clarias does not falter, blocking their attacks with as much finesse and skill as a master duelist, and disarms them with two well-placed slashes to their arms. Before they can react, he slashes his blade through the frigid air, and there is a thunderous crack as gigantic spears of ice shoot forth from the ground and impale the warriors where they stand. More crimson streaks the snow as Clarias lowers his rapier.

"That was amazing." I say frankly, as Clarias runs his emerald eyes across the blade's bloodied edge. "How could your sword block both an incoming axe and a spear at the same time?"

"Balizarde has never failed me yet." Clarias says simply, pirouetting the thin brand through the air. "Unfortunately, I cannot say as much for the rest of our forces. We have suffered heavy losses against the frontline of invaders, despite the fact that we outnumber them."

My mind instantly whirls through several horrific scenes at the words "heavy losses", each more terrible than the one before it. "How-"

"The enemy that is most dangerous is that which has nothing left to live for." Clarias mutters rhetorically, seeming to ignore my presence for a brief moment.

Suddenly, a figure appears behind Clarias, and I instinctively draw my sword, but it turns out to be nothing more than one of the Vanir- the same light-haired spectacled mage I saw near the beginning of the fight. A small corner of his mouth is bleeding, and his robes are torn.

"Reynard." Clarias nods to the man. "This had better be good."

"Tsukuyomi's retreating." Reynard replies, his expression and voice cool. "However…" He casts a glance behind himself, regarding the scene of destruction that now covers Orbis, and his glasses slip a little. "We've sustained some terrible losses."

"So I thought." Clarias replies, green light shining from his fingers as he heals the three of us with a spell. "Take census of those that still remain, if you could."

Reynard nods briefly before teleporting away, and Clarias touches my shoulder lightly. "May peace be with you." he says, solemnly.

Without saying any more, I walk through the crimson-stained snow in search of someone- anyone. The scene is devastating- over a hundred bodies are lying across the stone walks, their black and white capes testifying their dedication to their beliefs, their determination to die for the sake of one of two worlds.

The first face that greets me is Elisabeth, her face and body covered with cuts, bruises, and burns. It barely affects her beauty in my eyes, though, and as soon as she sees me, she rushes over and takes me in a hug.

Prior to this moment, I would have given the world for that to happen, but in the context of the ruins about us, the gesture loses its otherworldly meaning.

"I was so worried." she whispers, her eyes shining with tears. "I thought…I thought…"

She says nothing more, just sobs into my chest. For a moment, there's so much I want to say to her, but the words won't come. I know how she feels- it is her first time confronting death on such a large scale, and in a way, it is mine as well. Before this moment, I had never known the horror of what humans were capable of doing each other, the death and destruction that could occur all because of the evils of one thing, the transions.

Drake was right- the illusion was gone.

I let go of Elisabeth and take her hand in mine, and we walk across the destroyed lands not saying anything to each other. I can see more survivors wandering about as aimlessly as we are, their weapons sheathed as they survey the wreckage. Some are crying, holding the hand of someone they once knew as their friend. Others are emotionless, having learned to sever the ties of friendship long ago as part of their initiation.

It is some time, wandering past countless dead and not knowing if I have ever seen them before in my life, before we meet Drake. The Vanir's face is as emotionless as ever, his oaken hair barely grazing his shoulders in the wind. Like almost all of the survivors, he's injured- there are several cuts across his face and body, with not-yet-dry blood. There's an expression on his face that bodes ill, an expression that only sharpens when he sees us.

Even considering Drake's less-than-amiable personality, I can feel icy lead drop into my chest when I see his face, and my sword slips from my hand into the snow with a thud. It is some time before I find the ability to speak.

"Where's…Charles and Susanne?" I ask, the wind catching my voice and throwing it to the abyss.

Taciturn as ever, Drake merely points a finger to the side, his eyes saying more than words ever could. Dropping Elisabeth's hand, I follow his gaze and see the shadowed outline of Charles kneeling in the distance, his hair silently blowing in the wind.

As I approach him, I can see Susanne's body lying on the ground, a thin veil of fresh snow covering her figure. Her armor has been broken in several places, exposing bloody gashes underneath. The blades of three swords lie embedded in her chest, sticking straight up from her bosom like gruesome memorials to her demise. Her mouth, barely open, is seeping blood onto the snow- her face is pale, her eyes closed. Her crimson swords, cracked and broken like their fallen master, lie in the snow next to her.

A few paces away, the mangled corpses of three dark-caped warriors lie on the ground, their bodies mutilated beyond recognition. Their bodies have been twisted into awkward positions, as though their bones were forcibly broken and thrown like rag dolls, and their figures are covered with so many cuts that they seem more like pieces of meat than the bodies of human beings.

I notice the blade of a Kandine buried in the back of one of the warriors.

Silently, Charles takes ahold of Susanne's broken hand with his own, and I wonder if she ever found out he loved her before she died.

act XIII: betrayal of the most divine (80)

For the first time in what seems like years, Charles Verana is silent.

I would have considered that a miracle a few years ago, but right now it is depressing more than anything. After Susanne's death, it is as though a part of him has died along with her, and unfortunately, it isn't the really annoying part.

He has begun to work on normal techniques in his spare time, either igniting his spare change or studying alchemy textbooks whenever he has a moment. Likewise, I've thrown myself into my own training, learning to manipulate elemental transions even without the use of a weapon- hard, difficult, and strenuous work, yet ultimately satisfying. We are both advancing at a rate that Clarias himself has praised, probably even going to be eligible for entry into the Vanir sometime soon.

Yet, there is a void in both of us left by her death, because without her we will never be the same. Once the three friends of Maple Island, we are now only two, and very taciturn friends at that. We both deliberately avoid each others' gazes in passing, and when we do talk, talk as if we are mere colleagues and not childhood friends.

Through it all, my thoughts steadfastly manifest around two things: the whereabouts of the Fates, and Elisabeth Caelis.

Clarias has not explicitly mentioned anything about the Fates since our last encounter, but it is obvious that the Vanir are aware of the situation, as they are frequently busy doing something or other these days. Drake in particular has become consequently more moody and less talkative- not that he ever talked much before, but I am becoming both suspicious and worried about him. It's almost as if he has his own agenda, his own path to take.

Some months after Susanne's death, I meet Clarias in the hall and ask him if any of the other Fates have been found yet.

"Unfortunately, no." he says, running a hand uncomfortably along his forehead. "About a third of the Vanir are under orders to search Ossyria and another few are combing Victoria, but we haven't made any progress yet."

"You should appoint more people to the case." I say calmly, blatantly implying my own desire to do something so I can forget about my troubles. "We can't risk Tsukuyomi getting their hands on another-"

My words fall silent in the face of his expression, and he says, "The grey wolf watches over the hall of the gods."

As usual, his closing remark is apocryphal, and I have not the mindset to trouble myself about it now- so my thoughts naturally float to the other object that has been occupying my mind as of late.

It seems I see less of the priestess with every passing day, her dark hair mere phantasms in the fantasies of my mind. Despite the mellowing soul-bashing that one inevitably receives after joining Amaterasu, she has still retained the same child-like looks that I first noticed in her at Perion, if a little drawn these days.

I soon reach the eightieth level of my experience, Charles following soon after, and I fill out a request to Clarias for a transfer from the main headquarters in Orbis to a smaller outpost in Victoria Island, near Ellinia.

Clarias receives it with a bit of surprise- we both know that the Ellinia base is less-populated and consequently less-guarded than Orbis. Besides, the number of Tsukuyomi operatives in the island is far greater.

"You're sure about this?" he says to me across from a table in Orbis. This time, I am not speaking to him as a personal friend, but as a unit to his superior.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life." I say, clenching my knuckles. The newly-purchased Blue Screamer on my back reflects its crystalline glow into Clarias' face, turning his eyes an eerie sea-green.

Clarias sighs, somewhat regretfully, but his face shows nothing. "So be it." he says, signing away my proximity to Charles and Elisabeth with a stroke of his pen.

As an operative in Victoria, I take more of a role in day-to-day affairs, and find myself playing guardian angel on more than one occasion in the forests of Ellinia. Junior Tsukuyomi operatives abusing even younger apprentice magicians, warriors, and the like in the dungeons of Ellinia need only take one glance at my sword before taking to their heels. I know that I run the constant risk of provoking retribution from a more experienced Tsukuyomi member, but it is a burden that I share with the others at Ellinia. The Vanir and junior operatives at Ellinia are all unfamiliar faces, save for one.

Shortly after Susanne's death, Drake transferred to Victoria as well, about four months earlier than the time of my request. He remained as cold as ever when I asked him his reasons for doing so, aside from "I wanted a change of pace."

As I glance into his ice-blue eyes time after time, my suspicions and fears about him grow greater by the day. Days melt into weeks and weeks pass into months, and those suspicions have been nurtured by my empty mind almost to the point of paranoia.

Despite the fact that Drake Montag is a Vanir of Amaterasu- my close friend and trusted ally- there has been something about him that I have never been able to shake off since the day I met him.

My fears come to a head when a daily census report shows Drake isn't at Ellinia. That in itself would not have been out of the ordinary, since Vanir are authorized to travel wherever they want in Bera, but he also isn't anywhere on Victoria- or Ossyria, for that matter. His mana signature has inexplicably disappeared from the system that Amaterasu keeps, making it impossible to track him through any means besides physically searching for him.

Other members of the Vanir reassure me that there is nothing wrong, that mana signatures fluctuate all the time and it gets difficult to keep track of them at some times, that he will return and everything will be back to normal.

I want to believe that, but as I recall the rare moments when I have seen Drake truly angry- the moment after Charles' and my encounter with Constantine, the clash with Tsukuyomi at Golem's Temple, and Asteria's demise at Orbis, I realize that my mind will not be at peace unless I find out what he is up to once and for all.

Because I have not quite mastered the intricacies of using a communication transion, I take a ship post-haste to Orbis and meet with Clarias to communicate my suspicions in person.

He seems slightly surprised at first, but as the conversation goes on, his apprehension seems to degenerate into amusement. However, at the end of my speech, where I state all my previous experiences with Drake to him, he becomes slightly pensive once more.

"Yes, Montag has been well-known among the Vanir for some time for his…temper." Clarias finally concurs, his hair sweeping his shoulders. "It is difficult to determine whether his transions or personality are more feared by the agents of Tsukuyomi."

"They're afraid of him?" I ask quizzically, laying a hand on the desk.

"You are." Clarias points out, at which I blanch. "However, I would suggest to you not to attempt to track Montag down. The results could prove disastrous for you, despite the fact that you are both part of Amaterasu. Like each of the Vanir, Montag has his own personal thoughts and conflicts…and I find it best not to meddle with them." He calmly folds his hands together and glances at me with an expression of pristine calm.

"I don't understand." I finally sigh, letting my chin hit the table with a dull thud. My silver hair hangs to the table's surface.

"If you had, we would not be having this conversation." Clarias says calmly, his eyes glimmering like starlight as he exits the room.

Despite Clarias' advice, I leave for Ellinia once more and set about trying to track Drake down. This is easier said than done, I find, as I realize that practically no one, even his fellow Vanir, know anything about the taciturn ranger. No family, no leads, no tracks. Just stories, and unreliable ones at that.

"Well, I heard from a friend that he might've been seen near Kerning City last morning." a stocky, well-built fighter says with a shrug, sharpening his axe on a rotating stone made of hardened, petrified wood.

I might as well be wasting the day, but at least it's something to do, and so I head for the thieves' city without delay. Indeed, the first thing I see when I enter the city is not Drake, but rather a small group of Tsukuyomi grunts sitting in the shade of a nearby graffiti-decorated wall, identifiable by their black moonlight capes.

My first impulse is to intimidate them- I am twice their level, after all- but I finally decide against it, realizing I would only be sinking to their level in doing so, and simply decide to walk past and ignore them.

Unfortunately, I can't do this, for as I walk past, I hear the word "Montag" slip from one of the operatives' mouths.

I freeze for a fraction of a second, then continue walking, but as soon as I am out of sight I duck into a nearby alleyway and change clothes, taking off my cape and hiding the rest of my equipment inside a garbage can. To prevent it from being stolen, I rearrange the position of the cans so that the one with my stuff in it is the one located against the far back of the alley.

Indistinguishable from a normal beginner, I make my way back to the Tsukuyomi grunts and stop by a nearby stall selling throwing stars. While pretending to inspect the merchandise, I eavesdrop on their conversation in hopes of finding out something about Drake's whereabouts.

"…so…Montag…killed everyone?"

"…yeah…heard he was pretty strong…" They are talking in whispers, half out of secrecy, but also, I imagine, half out of fear that Drake will pop in any minute with arrows leveled at their heads.

"…where is he now?"

"…survivor said he was going to Sleepywood tomorrow at noon to settle an old score…wouldn't wanna be there when he-"

The stall owner finally gets impatient and shouts, "If you're not going to buy it, you little twit, then don't get your greasy fingerprints all over it!"

Quickly, the Tsukuyomi grunts stagger to their feet and see me, and one of them briefly flashes a rude hand gesture in my direction before they disappear into a nearby building. To placate the stall owner, I buy two sets of Subi stars, then rush back to the alley with my newfound intelligence in tow. I rummage through the garbage can and reclaim my equipment, tossing the stars back inside with a loud clang, and remind myself to take a shower when I get back to Ellinia.

Morning breaks when I awaken at eight in the morning, and I realize I have four hours left before my rendezvous with Drake- that is, if he shows up. I eat breakfast hurriedly, and ignoring the remarks from other members of Amaterasu, head off towards the route that leads to the Dungeon at once.

Ennui rears its ugly head when I get to Sleepywood, and I pass the time by relaxing in the sauna- or at least, trying to relax while I get odd looks from people who ask me, half-jokingly, if there's someone I'm planning to meet.

"Sort of." I say off-handedly, and they quickly lose interest in me after a while.

Through the haze of steam in the room, I catch a glimpse of a clock telling me it's 11:58 A.M., and I rush out, pulling on my clothes and armor over my steam-wrinkled skin, and rushing into the village square.

The seconds pass by, and Drake does not arrive. My forehead wrinkles nervously- Drake, as hostile as he is, doesn't sound like the kind of person who would be late for an appointment.

More time passes by, and the ranger still does not appear- though somebody else does.

I glance up and see none other than Constantine emerging from the Ant Tunnel, a group of flunkies following after him. Based on his appearance, I can guess that he's about level 90+, still higher than I am, which is not good for my chances of survival.

Before I can think up a plan for escape, however, he approaches nearer, and trying to draw attention away from myself, I run my hair through my fingers, trying to look casual. I see Constantine glance towards me for a moment, his eyes scrutinizing me, and my blood immediately runs cold. This is it, I think, he's really going to…

But my mind does not complete that sentence as he turns away without another word. I can only stare in shocked silence as he and his group pass by, and I am left to wonder why? Was it because he did not recognize me after all those years, or was it because he was too preoccupied with his own affairs to even take notice of my presence?

Constantine disappears into the west exit of Sleepywood, and though this is just inviting trouble, I follow him as stealthily as I can wearing several dozen pounds of plate armor and holding a gigantic four-foot sword.

The chief bandit drops down to the lowest ledges of the forest and disappears into a small enclave nearby; I wait until they are out of earshot before climbing down myself, hitting the ground with a thud. I take off my cape and stow it away, deciding not to attract attention to myself. I am about to follow him when I realize that if Constantine finds me lurking behind him in this secret passage, my chances of survival would not be very high. Resignedly, I turn back and return to Sleepywood, Drake and Constantine weighing heavily on my mind.

I return to the town square in hopes of catching Drake, but even after fifteen minutes pass by the assigned hour, he still has not shown up. Perhaps I misheard the grunts in Kerning City?

That thought is blown out of my mind when I see something staggering through the west entrance- one of the grunts that had previously been following Constantine, his clothes torn and scorched, blood and burns streaking his body. But most strikingly, several arrow shafts are sticking from his back- and if there was any lingering doubt about who was behind this, it was dispelled when the dying bandit mouthed two syllables that I could easily lip-read:

"Montag…"

As he collapses to the ground, to the shock of everyone else in the village, I run past him through the west entrance and rush down to the bottom ledge of the forest. Not caring what happens, I dive down into the enclave and push some low-hanging branches from my head, unprepared for what I see next.

Drake is standing in the center of the clearing, his bow strung and drawn. Constantine is lying on the ground, his face bloody and his clothes in tatters. Drake's bow is leveled at his head. Behind him, the similarly-beaten and burned fledglings under his care are quivering in the corner, fear showing in their eyes as they watch Drake, the fierce look that I have come to fear upon his face once more. His ice-blue pupils rule the landscape, almost as though they are the center of the universe.

Slowly, Drake and Constantine's eyes turn to me, the latter with shock and fear, the former with an unfazed expression.

For a moment, I am afraid that he will turn the bow on me, but he merely says, "This doesn't concern you, Ancalas. If you don't mind, Canach and I are in the middle of something."

So Canach is Constantine's last name, I realize. From his current position, he looks pitiful, his face bloody and burned, a far cry from the sneering, arrogant bandit he was so long ago.

I should be happy upon seeing him like this, and yet I am not. I see him being treated as an animal- worse than an animal- and in the back of my head, I know this is what he deserves, and yet I cannot bring myself to truly accept it. He is down, stripped of all his dignity, however ill-deserved it was, reduced to that which he had once despised. My experience with Susanne's death has softened me to mortality- I realize that he could be anyone else under the paw of a Tsukuyomi hound, helpless to his fate.

The irony in this is too bitterly cruel for me to swallow, and I turn away. Drake, finally deciding to act as though I am a part of the scenery, turns his attention back to Constantine.

"So, Canach…" he says, his voice burning, poisonous honey- how he manages to combine those elements in his voice is beyond me. "I suppose you thought crossing my path was such a great idea a few days ago."

Constantine coughs, sending droplets of blood and saliva onto the forest floor. "Believe me, Montag, I would never have…if I had known…"

"Bull." Drake spits, as if the word is a red-hot poker. "You know perfectly well we're at war here, Canach. How many innocents have you killed in your mad pursuit of power, along with the rest of your flea-bitten guild? All your life you've devoted your cause to destroying us, and you think we're going to take it lying down? Let me tell you, you are one sad little misguided-"

He lets go of the string, sending the arrow whizzing dangerously close to Constantine's head. I see the bandit wince in pain and I realize the corner of his ear is bleeding. A mad smile lights up Drake's features, a single ray of light piercing the forest canopy and landing on his face to accentuate the effect.

"Well, one thing's for sure." he says, leveling another arrow to his bow as he kicks Constantine in the chest, bringing up more blood. "You aren't going to be stealing any more stuff from me in the near future."

Constantine's eyes dilate, and for the first time, I see him as human. A single tear makes its way from the dying bandit's left eye before it is absorbed by the thirsty ground below.

"Please…" he whispers, his voice reduced to a mere fraction of the arrogant, condescending tone years ago. "I…I never wanted to…join them…"

Drake acts as if he hasn't heard, his bow still leveled unflinchingly at the defenseless man underneath him.

"I…had to pay…our family's debts…" Constantine breathes weakly, no longer aware of my presence. His eyes are rolling back in and out of his head. "I…I needed the money…I had no…choice…"

"Hm." Drake sniffs the air disdainfully, the breeze ruffling his oaken hair.

"My sister…has a terminal illness…" he whispers hoarsely, more blood coming out. "Please…she's only…twelve years old…and she's dying…"

Another tear escapes his left eye.

"They told me…they would save her…if I promised…to serve them…"

I wish I could believe he is lying, but he isn't- a fact that makes it all the more painful to watch.

Stop it, my conscience says. He tried to kill you!

He still doesn't deserve this! No one does!

"Ha!" Drake laughs and spits on the ground near the bandit, his words piercing each other like flaming arrows. "Rationalization! Everyone does it, thinking that there's an excuse for their crimes- that someone will benefit from their abusing their transions- well, tell me this, you big brother- how many other innocent people do you think are in this world with sick baby sisters? Do they go out breaking nature's laws in their siblings' names like you?"

Constantine doesn't reply, his eyes glazed backwards. He is barely breathing at this point.

"Now, atone for your crimes in hell, fiend!" Drake roars, releasing the bowstring as he fires four arrows straight into Constantine's body. The bandit convulses once as pain overtakes him- a strangled sound escapes his mouth as blood pools underneath him- and then his head hits the ground with a thud, his eyes blank, his body unmoving.

Drake watches Constantine's corpse twitch one final time before he kicks it aside unceremoniously. "Pathetic fool."

I watch all of this, horrorstruck, as Drake turns his cool eyes towards me. "You seem a bit disturbed, Ancalas."

"You- you…" My mind searches for words and finds none. "How could you kill him like that?!"

"He was a senior member of Tsukuyomi- therefore, he's fair game." Drake says coolly, folding his arms across his chest. "How many of them did you kill in the battle a few months ago when they invaded our headquarters?"

"That was different!" I roar, my fists clenched with reckless abandon. "That was- that was a provoked war! You just-"

Drake shakes his head. "Do you know what that piece of garbage did? We've got records on him longer than your sword. He's orchestrated over a hundred wide-range gravity hacks and killed at least ten members of Amaterasu- just for his sister." The last word of the sentence drips with poison. "Poor girl, having such a brother like that…"

I can say no more, and Drake gives me a caustic smile. "Come now, Ancalas. Don't tell me you're crying over Tsukuyomi's spilled blood."

"Drake…why?" I whisper. "You're a murderer, a cold-blooded murderer just like the rest of them. You're no better than any person in Tsukuyomi is!"

I expect many things in response to this statement, but what I don't expect is Drake's smile to widen.

"Very perceptive, Ancalas." Drake says calmly, his eyes focused on me. "Yes, you are right, in a way…because I am a member of Tsukuyomi, or rather, was a member, before certain circumstances arose."

The floor seems to fall out from underneath me- Drake, the anti-hacker and fervent Vanir I have known for so many months, was a former member of Tsukuyomi, the great unspeakable?

"I joined Tsukuyomi at a young age for the same reasons that others do- for wealth, fame, and glory. Just think- with the secrets of the transions at my hand, I could be invincible! I would never have to bow down to anyone else in the world, I could do as I please whenever I wanted! You must realize, Ancalas, that these promises of power are much too much for any mortal to ignore- hence, Tsukuyomi's popularity these days.

"But as time went on, I realized that Tsukuyomi could no longer serve my purposes. I realized that though I had learned transions, mastered them, I was still inferior- inferior to those who had learned them first, mastered them first. That is the great tragedy of life, Ancalas- no matter how high you think you are, there is always somebody greater… Tell me, Ancalas- have you ever felt hopeless, useless, as though you were nothing in the world? Have you felt that the whole world was cruel, maligned against you, as though each of its inhabitants were plotting your demise?"

I fall silent as Drake broods, his breath hanging in the air. A thousand different emotions are running through my head, and it hurts to keep track of them. I cannot tell whether I feel pity, empathy, or disgust with the person before me- or whether it is all of them at once.

"That did it. I realized that Tsukuyomi, after all, did not care about me; I was but a drone, a unit in the entire hive. What did it matter to them if I was killed in a street brawl, crushed by a gravity transion, if it meant I could serve their purposes to the end of time? I served only as an object of ridicule to those greater than me, and I was determined to end it."

His eyes suddenly become misty, almost wistful.

"The soul who irked me most of all was a fellow by the name of Cassian. Brilliant hacker, he was. People practically signed contracts to him with their own blood just so they could say they'd done it. He was a master of gravity transions, able to mass-slaughter thousands of monsters and steal thousands more items in mere hours. And he knew it. He treated everyone- not just others, but those close to him- like dirt, as if we were beneath the dirt under his feet. Of course, we all idolized him, though we all despised him as well. You can imagine how I felt towards him- wishing he would suffer a terrible, painful death in retribution for all the wrongs he'd done me, and yet wanting to be like him all the same."

His knuckles suddenly turn white upon his bow.

"It was a winter day, I recall." he says, a manic smile beginning to spread across his face once more. "Being the obnoxious teenager that I was, I asked Cassian if he could please show me a gravity transion of his own, in exchange for anything. I idolized him, I said; I wanted to be like him, live him, breathe him, worship him. I promised eternal servitude if only he would reveal to me his secrets. In response, he pushed me to the ground and spat in my face."

The smile grows wider, revealing Drake's teeth. His ice-blue pupils are wide, shining in the relative darkness of the forest.

"I said nothing, did nothing as I lay there and he continued to curse at me for the better part of a half hour, telling me what a pathetic little bastard I was and that I should go serve society by blowing my brains out. I stood up and remained silent, watching him turn away, walk six, seven steps…and then…"

Drake closes his eyes in bliss, running his fingers along the limbs of his sleek bow.

"I shot him."

Though I knew the final blow was coming, it was still a shock to hear it nevertheless.

"I saw him fall, watched him die," Drake whispered, blue fire glimmering in his normally-cold irises. "I watched his dirty, soulless body crumble and wither to nothing, and I knew my destiny was complete.

"There is no good or evil, Ancalas- no right or wrong, no gods of the sun or moon. There is only power, and those brave enough to seek it and control it. Mark my words- as sure as I stand upon the hallowed ground of this world, I shall destroy Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu under my hands and become the true master of the world's transions!"

His eyes are now leveled at me, with a strange mixture of ferocity and yet, somehow, regret.

"Stand out of the way, Ancalas," he breathes, his voice now barely audible, a sliver of what it was before, "or I shall have to kill you."

"No…" I whisper, more out of disbelief than anything. "No, Drake, tell me it isn't true, anything but this…" My voice carries desperation in its depths, desperation that Drake, the friend I thought I had known, would do something like this.

"Stand aside, Ancalas!" Drake snarls, a tiny bit of desperation beginning to cloud the Vanir's face. I cannot tell what he is thinking- would he truly do it? Would he kill me, Charles, Elisabeth, and Clarias just for his own purposes- would he become that which he truly despised himself?

"No!" I shout, clenching a fist near the handle of my sword.

Drake levels his bow at me with a deadly, still air, yet I can see a bead of sweat running down his forehead. He is hesitating- this is the first time he has spilled Amaterasu's blood across the lands. "Stand aside!"

"Never!" I roar back, knowing with that one word I have sealed my fate.

Drake's eyes flash, the bowstring snaps back, and flame rushes towards me- yet I am prepared. As if time has slowed itself down, I pull the great blade of crystal from its sheath and cast a transion of ice. Particles and transions in the air fuse, creating a barrier of frozen matter that stands between me and the incoming inferno. The flames strike the ice with a loud hiss, steam rising into the air, but when it clears, I am left unharmed.

Without pausing, battle instinct kicks in, and I draw the sword knowing if I do not do so, it will be my life on the line. I rush forward, the wind whipping my hair, and raise the sword. I realize that Drake is much more experienced at wielding transions than I am, and I expect flame to burst from under my feet any second- yet nothing happens. The oaken-haired Vanir is standing there, doing nothing except watching for a few precious moments as I charge towards him.

At the very last second, Drake raises his bow to block the incoming strike, sparks flying from the point of contact. He draws back, a moment of disbelief in his cold eyes- then we duel, blade against bow as we struggle to overcome the other. I realize that I have underestimated Drake- despite having a bow in hand, he wields the ranged weapon as skillfully as he would have a sword or dagger, using the bow's limbs as makeshift blades to block my attacks.

Every second burns itself into my mind as I see Drake's face, his oaken hair flying into his disbelieving eyes as I slash repeatedly at his indomitable guard. With every thrust, every attempted blow, I try to read his face, but cannot- his expression is that of one shocked, something I have never seen on the Vanir before.

Is he shocked because I have turned on him like this- scorned his dream, now standing in the way of his path to his destiny?

I call upon a lightning transion, blue bolts of energy flying off the edge of the curved greatsword. I see Drake's forehead wrinkle in exhaustion, but he does not falter as he brings the bow to guard, even as blinding flashes of electricity dart through our eyes. I see his face in the lightning, a face of despair, of having to live knowing that someone would always be better than him- the face which he once bore, and which I had bore once as well. It is the face I know he wore the moment he killed the Tsukuyomi ranger.

Has he betrayed me…or have I truly betrayed him?

The question presents itself for a fraction of a second as Drake's bow slips in his hands, from tension or exhaustion I do not know, and for a moment, his anger and hatred is gone from his face. For a moment, his eyes are wide, his expression weak, the nondescript Tsukuyomi servant he once was, beat down and abused by his superiors as I had been so long ago.

My eyes meet his, almost as if in passing, and at the same time, my arms instinctively thrust forward.

The lightning-charged blade slips past Drake's guard and pierces his hauberk, entering his body with a grotesque noise as electricity sears the flesh underneath. My mind screams no, but my arms won't listen, and the sword drives into Drake's body at the hilt, over four feet of crimson-laced crystal protruding from his back. One last, desperate, mangled cry escapes the Vanir's throat- his eyes wide, blood spilling out all over the blade and onto the ground- and he falls, the bow dropping from his grip as he staggers backwards, still impaled upon the sword.

No…no, NO!

Drake's body slides backwards off the sword and lands on top of Constantine's with a dull thud, his face pale, his icy eyes frozen with surprise for all eternity.

The sword drops from my hands and hits the soft forest earth, its edge still laced with fresh blood. I drop to my knees and scream a denial, hot tears blurring my sight, but I know that nothing will change what I have done. There is no eraser, no undo button, no second chance in death.

I have murdered, taken the life of another, and for the first time, the life that was lost had been that of someone I had known and cherished.

"Drake…I'm sorry!"

-----

End Part 3.

Because I know at least one person was confused, I will explain: Transions can refer to both the charged particles of mana and the artes cast with them- hence, you can have sentences like "I used the transions in the air to cast a fire transion."

Two gigantic, unbelievable plot twists await you all in the last four acts, so review.

Revolt shall be coming…soon. I promise.

-Kal