A/N: Holy cow, this story is going to follow Abyss fashion: next few legs of the story is mostly shit hitting the fan!

Also: I realize I haven't updated in forever, but as noted in my profile, I am a combat medic in the military. I have lots going on these days, lol. But I'm trying!

Repede nosed Yuri's arm. He started, surprised, he'd be ashamed to admit it, but he'd forgotten that the dog had been there. The pipe was splintered—not quite broken, but almost. The dagger the dog wore, hadn't even had time to draw it before Sync had barreled him aside. Yuri smoothed the dog's ears, despite the scar over one eye, Repede did not like pain, and he was certainly in pain now.

"You all right, boy? Ugh ..." He was in no position to be moving around, himself.

Jade and Sync still fought, a ways away on deck. It was all meaningless noise to Yuri. Some strike artes here, fonic artes there, altered artes, lots of shocks and power being flung around, all with Oracle soldiers and monsters having it out with Malkuth soldiers onboard the Tartarus. His sword was lying by his side, but it felt so heavy. He didn't feel like trying to lift it, much less gripping the hilt.

He couldn't stop thinking about the Empire, the barriers, the guilds, and Flynn …

He thought about the Don, and the possibility of warring with the Imperial Knights, back when Flynn had delivered false letters from Ioder. The Union and the Knights had all ranked up, front lines decided, the Tolbyccian grasslands before Dahngrest—and war was averted, because Flynn had ridden back with the actual letters in time.

Yet, now … Yuri knew. Whatever fighting happened between the guilds and the Knights, or even just against the monsters outside the barriers … that wasn't war.

This …

This was war.

Repede barked, and dove in front of Yuri, who grabbed for the collar. "Hey, wait a minute!" He jerked the hound backward, to keep him from getting himself hurt further. A soldier stood before them, and then another joined up beside him.

Granite grey eyes glared, smoldering angrily.

"You ..."

That black and gold sword glimmered darkly in the desert sunlight.

"You're the idiot who kidnapped that other idiot. A bunch of fools, the lot of you. Did you honestly think you could escape if you got into the desert?"

Yuri grabbed his sword, and made to stand up, but the pain from his injuries forced him back down. He didn't let go of it.

"What do you have to gain by murdering Luke?"

Asch gave a short, wry laugh. He sounded surprised. The soldier beside him—it was a woman. Yuri had to blink for a few moments. That long hair … the brown and gold dress … he was sure, he'd seen her somewhere before. He just wasn't sure where. Maybe it was just the fatigue of everything happening lately. What was happening now. Yeah, that must be it. Whatever it was, it would come back to him, later … The God-General's voice brought him back to earth.

"It's not what I have to gain—I lost everything a long time ago. The question is, who loses how much, if they lose Luke."

Lowell grumbled. "You're surprisingly calm, especially for how many times you and your scumbag co-workers came after us—after him."

The woman soldier gave Asch a look, but she didn't say anything. Asch lifted his sword, and pointed the tip to Yuri's throat. The point barely scraped his skin.

"Necromancer! If you don't stand down, this man dies."

Repede barked and growled, trying to jump at them—the woman disabled him, and then, the dog's injuries made it difficult to even move, much less attack again. Yuri's eyes darted to his left—that was the direction Jade and Sync were skirmishing. There was the clanging sound of boots on deck, flashes of fonic light. Then, the Colonel was stepping aside, albeit in front of Guy, who was still wounded, and unconscious. Curtiss sustained some injuries, but nothing grievous.

Sync, on the other hand, was pretty beat up. Bloody and bruised, and doubled over, panting, however, he wasn't quite crumpled onto the ground. Jade dismissed his spear, it vanished, and he put his hands in his coat pockets.

"Asch the Bloody. I assume the God-Generals have come for Ion?"

Asch kept his weapon aimed at Yuri. He barked at Sync, pointedly ignoring the Colonel's question.

"Sync! Find a healer and withdraw. We won't gain anything by dying here."

Sync staggered, straightening up. He held his injured shoulder, the flash of white-green betraying healing artes. It wasn't the color Yuri was used to seeing, he thought the golden glow, with showering sparks of bright light suited healing artes better.

"We'll have Van punish you later. You're going against the Commandant's wishes, you know." He looked over the carnage on deck—it was impossible to tell exactly where he looked, of course. Did that mask never fall off? "It's too bad I can't kill you all myself, but I suppose I can leave it in Arietta's capable hands."

With that, he raised an arm, whistled, and a winged monster swooped downward, grabbed him, and off they flew.

"Asch ..." the woman said, looking a little concerned. That voice, it was familiar, Yuri was sure of that much. If he could just think a little bit more, why that voice seemed to say something to him—the sound of metal scraping against leather distracted him; Asch sheathed his sword.

"Dammit. If Arietta's convinced any giganto monsters to fight for her ..."

"We don't know that for sure, yet. What is certain is that we have to talk to Luke, and stop Van."

The Bloody had a half cross, half bemused expression as he regarded the female Oracle Knight.

"It's so strange hearing his sister say that."

She stiffened, straightening up in her posture. "That's—I-he's-"

"Never mind. If killing him is out of the question, we can at least talk with him." Asch, arms folded across his chest, looked down at Yuri. It wasn't quite condescending, but then again, what was it? It was difficult to place. "Even separated from the Royal Guard, he manages to be in place for Van. He doesn't even know."

Repeded growled low in his throat, and Yuri echoed the sentiment.

"Just what the hell do you want with Luke?"

Asch opened his mouth to reply—nastily, by the look—but the woman placed her hand on his arm. He kept his silence. Without another word, he stalked off, black Oracle tabard and crimson hair whipping in the desert wind. The female Oracle Knight stayed on the deck. She did not apologize for her military's attack, as well she should. There were no apologies in warfare. There was simply life, or death.

She advocated life.

"You're injured. Tell me if it hurts." She knelt at Yuri and Repede's side, and before either of them could make another sound, she invoked a verse. "O purest water of life ..." There was an aqua glow emanating around her, reflecting lights and little rainbows, just like droplets of water did. Except, Yuri knew this wasn't water, not as he knew it.

Gently, the fonic arte washed over him, as well as Repede. They shivered, but from not from coldness. Dizziness subsided. Aches melted away. Open wounds knit themselves back together, bleeding stemmed, where flesh had once been rent, the skin was smooth. Yuri blinked. Not even Estelle's healing artes were anything like this.

"If you would be so kind as to tend to Guy." Jade stepped aside. "I'd do it myself, but I'm not a Seventh Fonist." Was that Yuri's imagination, or was there just a hint of bitterness behind the Colonel's tone? It was impossible to tell.

"Of course." She looked over Yuri and Repede—her gaze seemed to linger on the dog—before she stood. She went to Guy's side, blood had pooled underneath his body, but how much was his blood, and how much had been Sync's? A few fon verses, the glimmering of Seventh fonic artes, and Guy's ugly wounds were no more. He stirred, coming to.

"You might want to stand back." Yuri called to the woman as he pulled himself to his feet. "He's got a little fear of women."

She looked over her shoulder at him, then back to Guy, clearly confused. But she backed off.

Jade helped Guy to his feet, his eyes never once leaving the female Oracle Knight. Her comrades had, after all, attacked the landship carrying his own troops, and while they were on a critical mission for their own country, no less. Yuri thought he could guess what Jade would want done next—detain her for questioning, or else enlist her aid in getting the Oracle Knights off the Tartarus.

If the Malkuth soldiers perished during this attack, who would relieve the people of Akzeriuth?

Yuri nudged Repede, the dog gruffed, but moved where his master wanted him. Together, they blocked off the way Asch had went, and ahead were Jade and Guy. The woman soldier wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. She knew it. Was that a glare behind the curtain of burnished ashen hair, or just the icy gleam of her turquoise eye?

"I can presume you're not with the Grand Maestro faction?" Jade broke the ice. Well, more like smashed it, really. He must be the roaring life at parties. She shook her head, no.

"I'm neutral. I believe the Score is important, but so are the Fon Master's wishes."

Yuri didn't really know about these factions within the Order of Lorelei, and he didn't really care.

"Who are you, and why are you after Luke?"

Guy muttered something that Yuri couldn't hear. If Jade heard, and it was difficult to imagine he didn't, he didn't remark or react on it. The Colonel's mind was probably preoccupied with more important matters, like how Sync had insinuated that Arietta could kill them all. It was hard to imagine monsters might be cooperating with humans, but then again, the proof lay everywhere in this battle zone.

"I'm Tear Grants." She kept her back to the wall, and her eyes where she could see Jade, Guy, Yuri, and Repede. She stayed away from the railing of the landship, she could fall overboard if something attacked again. "We just need to meet with the son of Duke Fabre."

"Does it have to do with his place in the Score?" At Yuri's question, Jade quirked an eyebrow. But Lowell wanted answers, and he wanted them now. By Tear's expression, she clearly didn't want to be here, and she didn't want to answer that question.

"Marginally. The God-Generals want the Fon Master, Asch and I just want to speak with Luke."

Yuri didn't buy it. "Then why did Asch and the other God-Generals try to kill him?"

She looked down for a moment, and when she crushed her emotions behind a frigid mask of disdain, she raised her chin. She held her short staff, tipped with a curved blade, by her side, but she didn't need it in order to be a threat if she had a mind to be one.

"They may have attacked, but the goal is not to kill him. The Commandant of the Oracle Knights is planning something terrible, and many people will die if he is not stopped. Luke fon Fabre's place in the Score is instrumental to this plan."

"What is that Score?" Guy demanded. He sounded impatient and maybe a little angry, but he did not raise his sword. "And if you really are Van's sister ..." It looked as if he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself before he could say something he might regret later.

Tear said nothing, at first. When she opened her mouth, it wasn't speech that sounded in the air.

It was then, as Yuri's eyes drooped, when he dropped his sword, and sank to the ground, sleepiness overtaking him like a kick to the gut, that he realized it. Tear Grants was the mysterious woman's voice he'd heard atop the Tower of Gears, Ghasfarost. She'd gone after Asch, put the party to sleep, and Judy had tangled with her before she, too, had fled the scene.

She ran off, after Asch, and Yuri could only watch from his place on the deck.

Luke ran down the corridor, making for the deck. Yuri and Guy had been out there when the Oracle Knights attacked, soldiers had poured down here, but what was topside like? The God-Generals were here, they had taken Ion, and while in the back of his mind he was berating himself for running straight into the danger of more Oracle Knights threatening him or taking him hostage—and leaving Estelle behind—at the moment, there was only the all-too-real fear gnawing at his heart.

He didn't want to lose Guy, and as much as they had a hard time getting along, he didn't want to lose Yuri, either. They could fight, they weren't pushovers, but neither were they soldiers. Civilians, no matter how skilled with swords or artes, were most definitely at the steep disadvantage in a battleground with trained soldiers.

Master Van's soldiers.

Maybe someone in the hallway behind him had called after him. He wasn't sure, and he wasn't going to turn around and look. He tore through the stairways, sword and shield at the ready. He opened the door that led to the deck. There was a gust of strong desert wind, sunlight beating down from the skies above, and—a man with his face.

He threw up his shield to block the blow. Asch's sword strike glanced off it, but he didn't miss a beat, shoving his shoulder to force Luke into the wall, by the doorway. Immediately, Luke knew something was different this time. The first time he had seen Asch, on top of Ghasfarost, he was impatient, and certainly angry. The second—the arena in Nordopolica—had been serious, as it wasn't just him, but a concerted attack by the Oracle Knights, with other God-Generals.

This time, Asch wasn't trying to kill him.

Legretta was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the Oracle Knights that had accompanied her when she had taken Ion. He stopped fighting Asch, but he didn't lower his weapons, or his guard. Their eyes met, and for an instant, there was something they understood between one another. They were both soldiers, serving powerful men, the Commandants Alexei, and Van. They shouldered heavy responsibility—Luke, the safety of Estelle. Asch, some task that he didn't like, not one bit, but one that was necessary.

"What do you want?" Luke asked. He heard the clanging of boots and shoes on metal, from the stairs below. He thought he heard voices, Raven's, and Estelle's.

Asch kicked the door shut, and with a Third fonic arte, smashed it. The Thunder Blade crumpled it, the heat of the lightning welding the latch and the frame together. The shock of it had Luke stepping back ward, scrambling along the wall, away from the door. Whatever the God-General had to say, he did not want to be interrupted. The Maestro sword's point never left Luke's direction, though the Royal Guardsman had managed to put some smidgeon of distance between them.

"What I want, Luke, is to keep you out of Akzeriuth. I thought you could make yourself useful, but you kept getting away, out of reach, and if I couldn't make use of you, I'd kill you, but killing you has proven to be as infuriating as trying to kill the Necromancer."

There was banging on the other side of the welded door. It was definitely Raven's voice that was shouting, and amid his, Estelle's, and then Rita's. With Rita around, that door wouldn't remain shut for long, even if the Aspian mage had to blow the whole wall to pieces.

"You know," Luke said as the glow of a formula emanated from under the door, "it would be nice if, for once, someone told me what was going on, or asked me what I want to do." He remembered Yuri, and how his words had genuinely surprised him, in a good way. He had to get past Asch, to find Yuri, and Guy.

Asch growled. "Just stay the hell out of Akzeriuth. Nothing good will come of you going there. Take that airhead of a princess and go back to the capital. It's not that difficult!" It appeared as if there were a great deal more that was going unsaid. Luke might not be all that smart, but he wasn't precisely stupid, either.

"What happens if I go to Akzeriuth?" He asked. He didn't know why the God-General was telling him this, it was the Malkuth division's mission to relieve Akzeriuth, not his. As it was said, his job was simply to protect Lady Estellise from harm. Escorting her to the capital was another part of it, too, but she didn't want to return to the castle just yet. Who was anyone to deny her that? She had been trapped in it her whole life. Even if the world outside was fraught with danger, that didn't mean she had to avoid it forever.

There was the sound of rapid footfalls nearby. Asch tensed, but when he turned, relaxed a bit. Tear dashed up to them, unharmed. The Necromancer and the others must not have given her trouble; for a descendant of Yulia, how could they? Luke just blinked, completely baffled. He opened his mouth to ask again, when Rita's formula, as he predicted, blasted the wall apart.

The force of the arte sent them careening across the deck. Asch hit the railing, Tear had tried to cast a defensive arte but hadn't made it, rolling on the ground. Luke had been expecting it, so his Guardian had protected him from serious harm, though he still was pushed across deck. Rita was the first one out, her blastia glimmering with another spell.

"If you Oracle bastards don't get off this ship, I'll toss you overboard myself!"

"Wait, that's not why we're-"

"Tear! They won't listen. We'll have to take him by force!"

Luke started, caught off guard. He shielded a blow from Asch, trying to step back to his comrades as they filed out of the corridor beyond the destroyed door.

"What do you want me for?!"

The God-General didn't answer. Later, Luke would berate himself for his carelessness, much like when he had been caught by Legretta. He had been so focused on Asch—as had his teammates—he didn't think anything of his one lone ally. There was a huge sense of deja vu when he heard the voice, and sleepiness fell over them, one by one.

She knows the fonic hymns.

This was Luke's last coherent thought before he blacked out.

Yuri woke up just in time to throw the liger over the Tartarus's railing. It howled, shooting out bolts of lightning from its maw as its body hit the sand with a sickening thud. Monsters were running rampant on deck. He pulled himself to his feet, wobbling with the effort, sword in hand. From around the corner, another one turned sharply, barreling straight for him. He raised his weapon, prepared to attack-

"Another one! Get it, Tyson!"

The figure came from nowhere, Yuri ducked to avoid the man jumping for the liger. He recognized the hood from those ruins near Heliord—yep, it was Tyson of the Hunting Blades. Just as he had thought, they had come onboard the Tartarus to hunt the monsters that were coming from the Oracle Knight landship. He wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or grateful.

Behind him, Guy had gotten up, rubbing his head.

"Yuri! C'mon, we have to find Luke and the others!"

"Right … let's go, Repede!"

They set off running, avoiding the Hunting Blades; it seemed like the guildsmen had tunnel vision. The men running past them might as well have not existed. Still standing on deck where he had fought with Sync, Jade heaved a sigh, casually sidestepping to dodge a monster's body as it was thrown overboard. Today the Tartarus was the place to be, wasn't it? Fon Master Ion was taken, rendering their peace efforts useless for the moment, monsters swarmed the ship, seriously hurting the mission's manpower, and now guildsmen were storming it.

He looked down, to the sands of the desert. Two Oracle Knights were carrying a young man in a red Imperial Knight uniform. He clenched his hands into fists.

"Another kidnapping? If they're going to this trouble, I doubt they intend to take his life, but all the same ..."

The Colonel turned and dashed after Guy and Yuri, to tell them Luke had been taken onboard the Oracle Knight landship.

He thought he was dreaming. He couldn't move, and there were all these weird sensations. It wasn't until Luke opened his eyes and heard voices that he realized he was awake, not asleep. Darkness pressed against him, except for the bright lime green lights of … something. A machine, he thought. A blastia? But, wait … this wasn't aer being manipulated. It was—yes, he was certain. Fonons. Master Van had taught him how to use fonons during his knight's training. They were still rather elusive and hard to detect compared to the heady feeling of aer, but he was getting better at it.

With considerable effort, Luke turned his head toward the voices. Oracle Knights were guarding the door, others were standing by the machine he was lying on. There was one knight in particular that demanded his attention: there was no mistaking the red and black mantle, the long mane of crimson, dark as blood. How fitting for one whose title was the Bloody.

"... what the hell did you do to me?"

Asch turned around. He made a few gestures; the machine powered down, the lime green disappearing. Fonstone lamps in the ceiling glowed, soft illumination bathing the cabin. Then, he stood, a long pause stretching, thickly, like squelching mud. Outside, the wind howled, carrying the sounds of battle on the dunes.

"I doubt you'd understand it." The God-General threw the door open, allowing sunlight to flood in.

Luke wasn't entirely sure what happened next. The Oracle Knight guards followed the God-General. They left Luke alone to his own devices. From the next door over, which was closed, he heard a voice, sinfully gleeful, and if he listened, he could make out the words:

"Yes, this is a perfect creation. Even the fonon frequency is the same. Even Dr. Balfour never succeeded in creating a perfect isofon! With this … yes, I'm sure … I can definitely use this to augment my research and ..."

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, like he'd heard it before, but he dismissed the rest of the words as inane rambling and babble. Being that the guards were gone, and Asch with them, he gathered his gear and slipped out the door. It was virutally the same as the Malkuth landship, albeit with different colors, but yes, judging from the personnel and the black and gold, white sails, this was the Oracle landship he'd seen earlier.

He had to escape. The Knights were making no moves toward him, oddly enough, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't if they saw him run. So, Luke decided to take things slow, if they weren't going to take his life or attack him, whatever Asch did, he got what he wanted. He strode around deck, recalling the Tartarus's layout and so far, it proved to be very much identical on this landship as well. The ship was moving, albeit slowly, and the Tartarus was virtually frozen, though it was attempting to turn somewhat, against the headwind of the desert and dunes.

The two landships were a lot closer than they had been before. Was the Oracle landship trying to ram into the Tartarus? He remembered that they had taken Ion onboard this ship. If he could find Ion … Sword fastened tightly to his belt, shield adjusted on his back, the Royal Guard captain decided to search the cabins to see if he could find the Fon Master. If they weren't going to attack him for whatever reason, maybe Asch, he could maybe at least cause enough ruckus for the Fon Master to break free and run with him.

He didn't get far, when something upheaved the Oracle ship.

"Whoa!"

He grabbed the deck gunwhale, the ship rocking, as if it floated on the sea, not the sands of Desier. Emerald eyes blinked rapidly, confused as all hell. What was rocking the ship? It had not collided with the Tartarus … The Imperial Knight turned on his heels, when he heard a loud screeching. Wings flapped, and the heat of the desert seemed to burn as if on fire. He threw an arm over his face, shielding it from the hot, blistering winds.

What the hell is that?

Fire.

He blinked again, and realized, it wasn't just fire, but there were golden red wings. Wings, a long elegant body with curving limbs, a tail, feathers, long neck and flamboyantly feathered crest and a beak … and the eyes. Those eyes. Without a doubt, he knew … yes, it must be.

"... Phaeroh …?"

The giant fire-bird had rammed into the Oracle ship, and now perched on the bow, burning wings flapping as its talons hung on, like it was trying to drag the ship out of the sand. The wings beat angrily, bringing burning winds, and before long, a magic circle appeared underneath the beast. Great winds blew, knocking the Oracle soldiers down. Knights screamed as they fell overboard or slammed into their comrades or walls. Opening its beak, Phaeroh screeched again, and cast fireballs carried by his wind artes.

Luke shielded himself with Guardian, frightened, but secretly excited and somewhat elated. Phaeroh had condemned Estelle as a "poison", and yet he appeared at the best possible time and proceeded to lay waste to the enemy, the Oracle Knights. This was the perfect opportunity to grab Ion! Makin ga mental note to thank Phaeroh after they found out why it wanted Estelle dead later, he dashed into the cabins.

"Ion!" He screamed as he flew down the hallways, pushing past confused and frightened Oracle Knights. There was a small returning answer, faint, from a door down the hallway, to the right. Luke skidded to a halt when he came to the door in question, and twisted the latch. Locked. No matter. He took his shield, preparing to ram it into the door jamb. "Ion, stand back!"

He coated himself with Third Fonons, for lightning, and rammed into the door jamb. The door became dented, but hadn't opened. He drew his sword, stuck the blade in the gap between the dent, and with much effort and some sweat, pried it open. He stepped in, smiling wide, ready to take Ion by the arm-

"If you want the Fon Master, you'll have to get through me."

Damn it!

There was Ion, standing at the back of the room, looking resolute, but a bit scared. Before the Fon Master, and the Royal Guardsman, was non other than Sync. He sat at the table in the cabin, being tended to by a Seventh Fonist—and Luke gaped; it was Tear. She had mopped up Sync's wounds, bloody rags were strewn all over the floor, and though she saw him break in, she still concentrated on healing the God-General's injuries.

He didn't know what came over him, but he had to ask.

"... you're Master Van's sister, aren't you? Tell me … why are his soldiers doing this?"

It was the oddest thing. His head was aching, like the onset of his famous headaches, but not quite. He had no knowledge of anyone telling him this idea. But, the eyes, her demeanor, her hair color … the fact she knew the fonic hymns … yes, he hadn't the faintest idea how he came to this conclusion, but he just knew, felt it with every fonon in his being, that it was somehow true.

Tear opened her mouth to reply, not immediately, but she was cut off by the Tempest's howling laughter.

"Oh, that's rich. Look, Luke, I realize we're being attacked and we may be at a disadvantage thanks to circumstances, but you're our prisoner right now. You're being held here. You're not going anywhere. Isn't that right, Tear?" Sync still had his mask on—did he never take it off?-but Luke could tell those eyes were on him, and it unsettled him.

"... yes, you are for all intents and purposes, our prisoner, Luke fon Fabre." Her shoulders slumped under that burnished, silvery bronzed curtain of hair. She sounded … defeated.

Whatever aims Asch and Tear had had by kidnapping him, the intent was not for Luke to remain on the ship, by those two, anyway, that much was apparent.

Sync pointed to the sword and shield.

"Throw those down. We know about your hyperresonance, you can't do it on your own, so don't try anything funny."

They—what? They knew? Luke was frozen in place, completely stunned. How?

How did they know?

Slowly, as if he were watching someone else perform actions with his body, almost like an out of body experience, his sword and shield were each thrown to the floor. His body moved as if on its own accord. He hadn't wanted to disarm himself. Why was this happening? Had he, subconsciously, realized he was defeated, too?

When Luke's and Tear's eyes met, there was a mutual kindred spirit between them.

He didn't have to even mouth it. Just looking, the words were understood:

We'll go together.