Golden Sun: Wings of Anemos

Chapter 21 – Checkmate

- \/\/ -

"Hold on, Sheba! Take my hand!"

Felix stood at the aerie's edge, caught between the light of the beacon and the light of the setting sun. Not even his dark hair could resist the combined allure, glittering gold in the wind. One hand rested on the pommel of his sword, undrawn. He held the other in front of him, reaching out over the endless drop below.

"I can't..."

A chasm stood between him and Sheba, facing him from another aerie. Unnatural lavender light wrapped around her, a mantle across her shoulders. There were people behind her, masked by the light, save for a single hand around her wrist. She held the other in front of her, reaching out over the sea of clouds beneath them.

"If you don't, you'll fall!"

Felix stepped back, unbuckling his sword belt. The blade clattered against the stone, his cape covering it a moment later. Three steps echoed in the silent air as he ran for the edge, leaping from it into the winds. They roared through the gap beneath him like a river, spilling up on the banks of the two aeries.

"I can't hold on any longer..."

Sheba bowed her head as he jumped. Her hand trembled, then fell to her side. Birds lined the edges of the aerie, watching the man try to fly, hope to fly, fail to fly. Sheba closed her eyes as another hand seized her other wrist, drawing her back, closer to the light. The radiance around her outshone the sun.

"Don't let go! You can't!"

The gold faded from his hair, the combination of purple and brown staining it black instead. His arc ended; his momentum faltered. His hand reached out and caught only air as he fell. He vanished into the gray clouds below, the currents sweeping them along.

"Goodbye, Felix, and thank you."

- \/\/ -

Ein stared across his counter at Sunshine, his arms crossed. Fragmented and twisted pieces of metal that once covered the space between them, like corpses on a battlefield, had been swept to the side. Four sheathed swords lay between the two smiths instead.

Felix had expected Sunshine to retreat from the man; Ein could be quite intimidating when he chose.

What Sunshine lacked in presence, however, he made up for in sheer stubbornness. The younger smith stood in a similar pose, his jaw set and eyes locked. Ein had initially been dismissive of the man, only relenting into silent observation when Felix vouched for the quality of his work. Felix had learned to judge weapons from Ein; the Proxian must have felt his lessons had taken hold.

"So," Ein said. "This blade is tougher than you thought." He reached out and grabbed one sword, pulling it free of the sheath as flames danced along the steel's edge. He glanced back at his forge for a moment. "Good call to do it elsewhere. Forge can't handle this. Not here, not at the lighthouse."

Felix nodded. "I've seen the forge in Champa. You won't be displeased with it."

Ein grunted. "You keep telling me that." His eyes flickered to Sunshine, who returned the gaze with as fierce a glare as the man could muster - which, Felix had to admit, ranked only slightly more fearsome than a child's. "Better be right if you want my help."

"Will you be ready to leave in the morning?" Felix asked.

The only answer came as a flat stare, interrupted by a different voice.

"Wait, you're leaving?"

Felix glanced around Ein to find the man's apprentices, Liam and Terandi, poking their heads around the corner from the back room. "Thought I told you to stay in the back."

"We are in the back," Terandi pointed out. "You never told us not to listen."

Ein stepped to the side, looking over one of his workbenches. He selected a rough looking sword from one, picked up a hammer with the other hand, then laid the sword flat, the blade protruding from the bench's edge.

Liam must have known what was to come, calling out, "Wait!"

The hammer fell, snapping off the top foot or so of the sword. Ein collected both pieces and dropped each in one boy's hands. "Your project for while I'm gone. If people bring in stuff, work on that instead. Don't get ambitious. Go home. Get some sleep."

The boys mumbled an affirmative as they walked past, not meeting the eyes of anyone else.

"Thank you for this, Ein," Felix said. "I know how difficult it is for you to leave Prox, even for a short time."

The smith grunted again. "If I died tonight, they'd do fine. They don't need instruction anymore, just practice. Tiamat's got different plans for me." He waved one thick hand as he turned, heading towards the back of his shop. "I'll be ready in an hour."

"Do you need any help?" Piers asked.

"Didn't ask for any, did I?" Ein said without looking back.

Felix's lips twitched as he caught Piers' eyes, nodding his head to the door. "Don't hurt yourself, Ein. You're getting on in your years."

He got only a grunt in response.

Outside, a light flurry danced against the evening sky, backed in red. Felix pulled his cloak tighter around him as they trudged through the fresh snow. Sunshine's eyes wandered around them; Felix had grown used to the serenity Prox held on a calm day, a different calm than the one that blanketed Yallam at all times. A sigh of relief, instead of a sigh of boredom.

"I don't think he liked me," the smith said.

"Ein doesn't like anyone he meets," Felix said. "But he trusted your ability."

"How do you know?"

"He agreed to come. Don't disappoint him."

Sunshine fumbled with his own cloak, sinking further into it as he resumed his observations in silence.

By the time they stepped inside, snow had covered their clothes and hair. Only after a few seconds of shaking it free did Felix notice Puelle seated at the nearest table, a failure in awareness that gnawed at him for a few moments.

"Any luck?" the Proxian asked.

Felix nodded, pulling off his gloves and moving close to the fire. Even a milder winter in Prox still left extremities numb after a few minutes at night. "Ein's coming with us. We'll have him back as soon as we're done. It shouldn't take more than a few days."

"And this Champan smith will work with them?"

"I expect she'll complain about it for a while," Felix said. "But she'll do it, if only to keep her son and grandson safe."

Puelle nodded, leaning back in his chair. "The things we do for family," he murmured.

Felix stared at the older man for a moment, then glanced at Piers, one eyebrow quirked. The Lemurian answered with a neutral expression - too neutral of an expression, Felix realized. "Sunshine," he said, turning. "I need you to go find something a young child would like. Nothing large, just a small token."

The smith frowned. "Well... Okay, but why?"

"I don't have the greatest track record in visiting Champa, and I'd like to make a small personal gesture of peace, if I can."

"Wouldn't it be better if you picked something, then?"

"I believe Felix is subtly trying to get rid of you so that we can have a personal conversation," Puelle said.

Sunshine glanced between the two a few times, then nodded. "Oh. Yeah, sure. Is, uh, Piers coming too?"

The Lemurian sighed, seating himself at the end of the table. "Piers needs to accept the responsibility of being the cause of this conversation, I think."

Felix waited until the door closed behind him before sitting down, opposite Puelle. The hearth blazed behind the Proxian, working in preparation for the coming night. The crackle of the flames filled the house now, occasionally broken by the rattle of the wind against the windows.

"I suppose it would be easiest for me to just put it out there," Puelle said. "I am aware of what really happened in Mars Lighthouse. What happened to Karst. To Agatio."

"I apologize, Felix," Piers said, his head bowed. "When forging the blade with Einion, I...found myself having some trouble with my conscience. Among the things I eventually discussed was that...event."

Felix sighed, looking down at the table. He could see all three pairs of hands resting atop it. "I'm sorry, Puelle. Lying was never my intent, but... When Jenna told that story, I had to make a choice immediately, one I would have to stick to. I've spent a lot of time wondering if that choice was right. I still don't have an answer."

"Lies are often used to hide guilt," Puelle said.

"Of which I have no small amount," Felix said. "I don't... Perhaps I was simply afraid. I knew, even then, that I would lose one home. Maybe I just didn't want to lose my place in another."

Puelle said nothing for a long moment, his hands rising up to support his chin. "Why did you never tell me, at least? Did you think that I would blame you? That I would take out my loss on you?"

He felt Piers' eyes on him, but could not bring himself to look to the other man for help. He had made this choice alone. "The truth is that...I don't know, Puelle. I'm not very good at lying. I don't do it often. I'm even worse at admitting to a lie. I knew you should know, of course, but..."

"You wanted to leave me with the meaningful lie, instead of the bleak truth."

Felix hesitated, then nodded.

Puelle stood, turning towards the fire, his arms across his chest. "One of my daughters died fighting a monster created by her own stubbornness and ruthless pragmatism. And now I know the other died for...what? A failure of moral righteousness? To serve as a test for another? No matter how I look at it, her death served no purpose at all."

Wind rattled the windows again, howling for a brief moment against the door. "She died for nothing," Puelle continued. "We are not unfamiliar with our children dying in such a manner here. That does not make it any easier. We always find cause to celebrate what life they did have, to enjoy what they did with their time."

Puelle turned away from the fire, moving towards the table, but did not sit again. "I am not a man of far sight, as Altefeuer often reminds me. Perhaps the Wise One would have tested her at the beacon, as well. I do not believe she would have passed such a test, not as Isaac did. She would have watched the world freeze rather than sacrifice those she loved."

"She is not the only one who would have chosen that fate," Felix murmured.

"Perhaps her death there is what enabled you to win atop the aerie. Perhaps her quest for vengeance would have extended to Vale, once she had killed Isaac. Or perhaps they would have fought either way, injuring each other so severely that the lighthouse would remain unlit. I cannot say. I can say what has happened, though."

The Proxian leaned onto the table, waiting until Felix met his eyes. "Jenna's lie - your lie - gave significance to Karst's death. Her and Agatio's funerals inspired every Proxian in attendance. We have been merely survivors for so long. Passion like theirs has been rare, and it always accompanies great things. To have told the truths of their deaths... It would be a sour taste to start our recovery. It would fill people with despair. Instead, they are filled with hope and pride."

When the man fell silent, Felix broke the eye contact, dropping his gaze to the table once more. Puelle's words made sense. He had discussed the idea with Piers before, and suspected it was why Jenna had told the lie in the first place. Why, then, did he feel guilty about it still? Had it been hiding it from Puelle? Was he simply uncomfortable with lying, no matter the effect?

No... He knew his own morality, and had eliminated such black and white standards long ago. He did not fully cast aside the means for the end goal, but often had he balanced the two, sacrificing his personal ethics for the greater good.

He could keep this secret from Prox. He could bury that guilt, live with it, knowing what it bought for them.

Isaac had not been the only one on trial, he knew.

- \/\/ -

She closed the door behind her, slowing her breathing to pick out the outlines in the room. They almost seemed to glow, but emitting their light inside, rather than out. The room had little in it, small enough that she could cross it in a few steps, even in complete darkness, but she could not trust her memory anymore. Would not, maybe.

Maneuvering around the bed, she placed the two bowls on the nightstand. Her hands dove into the cool one with a washcloth, wringing and twisting, then repeating above the bowl.

He lay still as she brushed the damp cloth across his forehead, but she knew it woke him all the same. His breathing shifted, becoming more shallow, more rapid. He said nothing as she removed the cloth, draping it over the edge of the bowl. "Can you sit up? I need to replace your bandages."

The man did so, pushing himself up and leaning forward. Mia reached out and peeled apart the thin strip, unraveling it from his head with smooth, slow motions. As the other end fell free, she grabbed it and set it aside, neatly folded. She rinsed the sweat from the washcloth, then soaked it with warm water. "Hold still," she said out of habit. One hand took gentle hold of his chin, while the other brushed at his closed eyes with the cloth.

His eyes opened when she released him. "I still can't see anything," he said.

"It's dark in here," Mia said, starting a new wrap with fresh bandages. "I don't want to risk damaging your eyes any further. I can barely see, myself."

The bandages swished as she wound them around his head. He sat still, his hands folded in his lap. She tried to focus on the bandages themselves, clearing her mind of everything else. Mia rarely had difficulty distancing herself when treating patients, but at the moment, she welcomed the extra help her training with Hama had produced.

"They're not going to heal, Mia."

She did not pause as she made her final loop, tying the end off. She had felt the same knots in the flow of his Chi, behind his eyes. "No. I don't believe they will."

He leaned back. She recognized the motion, knew he would have closed his eyes if they were not already bound shut. "Why are you doing this, then?"

"Because you're a patient," she said. "And because I've been wrong before."

He sighed. "Yes, you have. Thank you," he murmured.

Mia said nothing. She had not meant the words that way, but she had no desire to correct him. Her hand waved the water all into a single bowl as she stacked them, turning to the door.

"The Tomegathericon... Is it gone?"

"Yes."

"Good."

That made her stop, one hand reaching for the door handle. She wrestled with herself for a moment, cautioning against such curiosity, but it won out, as it often did. The bowl settled onto a desk as she turned, moving towards the bed once more. "You're happy about it?"

Alex lay in silence for a long moment, not moving. "I was overconfident. That book... Do you remember me telling you of my translation attempts, at the beginning? When we went to the lighthouse?"

"Yes." He had spoken of the book's introduction: notes about the religion surrounding it, basic tenets of Psynergy control. She had come across a few other such books, documenting strange magic that always bore remarkable similarities to Psynergy. Some were focused, but most covered the same base concepts of Psynergy use that all Adepts came to learn, intuitively or by instruction.

"I was wrong."

Mia said nothing.

"Looking back, I understand the warnings it posed," he continued. "It... It was like an Alchemy tool, in many ways, able to channel pure Psynergy into a specific form. I only translated a small portion of the book, what I believe to have been the simpler spells. I can only assume what I saw from drawings on later pages. Demons, broken bodies, blood..." He shook his head. "Things mortals... Things people are not meant to do. Some of the images were horrifying, even to me in that state."

"Under Atropos' influence," Mia said.

Alex paused, then shook his head again. "No. Well, yes. She directed my focus at...Marie. The Tomegathericon, though... Whoever wrote it understood that no one could fully use it without sacrificing their humanity. The tool that constructs the book is twofold: it channels your Psynergy, and also erodes your restraints, your conscience, whatever you choose to call it. That, with Atropos... A perfect storm of influences."

She watched his mouth twist into his usual humorless, mocking smile, though for once, it seemed directed at himself. "Is that your defense? That I should forgive you because you weren't yourself?"

A dry chuckle joined the smile. "No. I would say I was more myself in those moments than I ever have been. The purest form of me, reduced down to that single, driving devotion." Alex fell silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, the self-depreciating mirth had vanished from his voice. "Why did you save me? I... Why mercy?"

"Because you are more than the desire to bring back Marie," Mia said. "If you weren't, you would have been unaffected by Atropos and the book. I remembered the man you were, and the boy before that. Whenever I have the choice, I will always choose life."

He sighed. "Thrice I have betrayed you. You would be a fool to trust me again, and I would be a fool to expect it."

"I know," Mia said softly, opening the door and stepping through it.

She leaned against it for a long moment after closing it, her eyes closed. No. Not now. She could think about him later. Maybe.

Her feet began to move, carrying her through the palace. The path was unfamiliar, but she let them go, trusting them. She had little trouble letting her body guide her in times like these.

Mia pushed open the door to Ivan's room, surprised to find it as dark as Alex's. After a few moments of peering through the murk, she remembered the previous day. As the light from the hallway spilled across the bed, however, she heard a groan as the boy rolled over, pulling the blanket up over his face.

"Sorry," she said, pushing the door shut behind her. "I just wanted to check and see how you were feeling."

"Please kill me. It would be kinder."

Despite herself, Mia smiled. She took a deep breath, sensing out the room with Chi, then dispelled it. It was exhausting to try and hold for any length of time. Crossing to the bed, she sat down on the edge. "Don't worry. Once Garet gets back, he'll be saying the same."

At that, Ivan rolled back over. She could faintly see his eyes open in the bare light from the edges of the curtains. "Actually... I'd rather you didn't."

She frowned, opening her mouth.

"It's not that I think he'd get revenge or something," Ivan said quickly. "This... I'm pretty sure this was his revenge. He told me a while back that he'd get me back for something I did, and... Well, you know how much he always tries to get me to drink something."

"That doesn't mean now was the right time for it," she said.

He rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. "Wasn't it? As much as I don't want to admit it, I think we all needed something to distract us from...from Tolbi."

Mia said nothing. Had she not done the same, in her own manner? She had busied herself, taking care of Ivan, taking care of Alex, trying to take care of Isaac, and Sheba, and Jenna. That was something she knew how to deal with, after all. Was that not why she had come here now? Rare were the moments she was not with one of them, or with Hammet, trying to make plans for surviving refugees.

She knew there would be some, at least. Those at the edges of the city were spared from the utter obliteration the center saw. They had pulled survivors from Kraden's palace, after all, and she knew there would be others.

Some would go to the Docks, she knew. There were plenty of inns, bars, and...other locales that could put people up temporarily. But the Docks had little in the way of actual materials; they might be able to expand, in the future, become a new city in their own right, but it would take time. Until then, she suspected many would come to Kalay, which could support them far more easily.

"He just...wanted to help me," Ivan said.

Mia stretched out her hand, smoothing down the boy's ratted hair, still twisted and tangled from his fight. Blood still discolored a few locks, though she had cleaned it away from his face itself. "How is your nose feeling?"

One hand pulled itself free from the blankets and grazed across it, earning a wince, but moved in for a second touch. "Better. It doesn't hurt as bad."

She kept her hand on top of his head, Psynergy pulsing towards him. Aside from his nose and a fractured rib, Ivan had escaped with relatively minor bruises, burns, and cuts. A lot of them, to be sure, but well within the body's healing capability, particularly when accelerated with her Psynergy. Most of the cuts had already closed, and she expected the bruises would be gone by the end of the day. Even the two breaks were simple enough; she had seen many of them.

Her Psynergy continued, focusing on those two. "Ivan... I need to apologize to you. When you tried to warn me about...Alex, I... Well, I believed you, but at the same time, I didn't. I simply couldn't think of a situation where Alex would do such a thing to me. Or maybe I just didn't want to."

"Please, let's not play the blame game with this."

"I'm not trying to," she said. "It is, however, my fault that I couldn't trust you."

"It really isn't. I saw-" He paused, then continued. "I was having dreams of several different futures. They weren't making sense even to me."

"Do you still see them?"

"I don't know. I... After fighting Atropos, for the first time in a long time, I didn't have any dreams at all. But..." He trailed off.

"You had one last night," Mia finished.

Ivan nodded. "It's... We're not done yet. But maybe I can change it, still." He fell silent for a moment, then glanced up at Mia, a small smile forming. "I just realized that you keep ending up taking care of me in my own room after I get beaten up."

She pulled her hand away, returning the smile. "I'm well-known for my house calls. I'd like it if you would just stop getting beaten up, though."

"I'd like that more, I think."

Mia stood up, gesturing towards a glass on the nightstand. Water condensed, filling it and the pitcher beside it. "Keep drinking water. Psynergy doesn't do anything for the effects of alcohol, but water does. Keep drinking it. The worst is behind you."

As she reached the door, his voice called out again. "Hey, did Garet go to get the armor?"

"Yes, why?"

He frowned. "Just...wondering where he was."

- \/\/ -

The doors swung open to admit him.

Garet walked up the steps.

Atropos stood inside the entrance hall, a long spear in her hand. The green blade at its tip, glittering like crystal, looked bigger than her head. White robes adorned her once again, trimmed in gold to match the crown atop her head. "Leave us," she said, her eyes fixed on Garet.

The guards inside, who Garet assumed had opened the doors, bowed and exited the palace.

Atropos smiled. "Well. It seems the child's dream was right. Here you are, presenting yourself to me. I was worried you had not escaped the destruction of the City of Peace and denied me the chance to kill you myself."

Garet snorted. "You weren't listening too well when Ivan told you that dream, then. You're not the one standing at the end of it."

"Ah, but therein lies the treacherous nature of prophecies," the woman said, running her hand along the blade of her spear. "A vision of the future can only be changed when one knows what is coming. In telling me about the dream, little Ivan guaranteed that it would not come to pass."

"Yeah?" Garet tapped his sword against the stone floor. "Humor me."

Atropos clicked her tongue at him. "You are Martian? I so wish I could kill you with your own element, but alas, it was not meant to be. My own shall have to do."

The king raised her spear. Lightning snapped along it as she leveled it at him, the Psynergy coursing out at Garet.

He did not flinch. He kept his eyes locked on Atropos', even though the flashes of light made her difficult to see. The bolts arced around him, veering out of the way of his armor. They would not, could not touch him. They stopped a moment later, the look of surprise on Atropos' face bringing a humorless smile to his own.

"That armor..." she muttered. "Myrtle? We sealed all those mines..."

"Turns out a thousand years or whatever makes seals pretty irrelevant," Garet said. "Didn't quite expect that, did you, Miss High-and-Mighty?"

"I did not," she said, shaking her head. "No more than I expected to ever see the Fang of Tiamat again. You people continue to surprise me with your resourcefulness."

Fang of Tiamat? Maybe she meant the Proxian Blade. A fitting name, Garet thought. "Don't worry, you'll be surprised all the way to the end."

"Oh? Are you certain?" She stared at him for a moment, then frowned. "Your armor is well-constructed."

"Can't get your little mindhooks in me, can you?" Garet asked, raising his sword and pointing it at her. "Sorry, you actually have to do your fighting yourself."

Atropos shrugged. "I hope you don't think I'm averse to doing things myself. I may be a king, but I am far from lazy, child."

"You'll still die a king's death, just like Clotho."

"Then come," she said, one corner of her mouth twitching up into a sneer. "Come, and I will teach you what it means to be a king."

Garet did not run at the woman. She held a spear, the ideal weapon for keeping opponents at a distance; unless he backed her into a corner, something he felt sure she would avoid, she could backstep and keep him outside of striking range for as long as she chose. A slow approach would never work like that.

Instead he pointed one hand behind him, a burst of concussive force hurling him toward her. His sword shunted aside her spear's head as he flew and his helm slammed into her face.

Atropos reeled back as Garet's feet found the palace floor, stumbling forward with her. The instant he found stability, he set his feet and swung the blade. He doubted it would be a killing blow, but any kind of pain seemed a suitable alternative.

She twisted, the spear's haft meeting Garet's blade. It rotated between them, pushing the sword aside as the butt lashed out at Garet.

He shrugged his shoulder up and turned his head. Most of the blow struck his armored arm, only a fraction scraping up to his helm. The blade withdrew, returning from another direction.

Again the woman parried it aside, and this time the bladed end of the spear struck out for the gap in his helm.

Garet dropped into a quick squat, the spear grazing his helm once more. Turning in the same direction she had pushed his sword, he stepped forward and shoved his shoulder into the woman's chest.

He heard her grunt as wind buffeted him; it swept around him, but threw Atropos away, up against the far wall. She stared at him, irritated, an emotion Garet considered himself an expert in invoking. "Simply going to brute force your way through everything? That seems like a strategy you would favor."

"I favor winning strategies," Garet said, pulling his sword back up. She could parry his blade, but with the armor to nullify her Psynergy, she had no chance of parrying his entire body. She didn't have the strength. Cornering her might prove measier than he thought, and once past the spear's head, she would be defenseless. "Don't like it? Feel free to try and stop me."

Mercury pulsed from her as she lunged forward, but Garet ignored it. Let her heal the cut on her lip. The longer she lasted, the more pain he could cause. When she dropped low, pulling the spear back, he realized the Psynergy had not been for healing. The smooth stone of the palace floor glistened. Atropos slid along it, jabbing her spear up at Garet's underarm as she approached.

He swore at himself as he twisted to avoid the strike, deflecting it with a solid plate. The distraction let Atropos slide past him to the wide open floor of the entrance hall. When he moved to follow, his boot slid on the ice for a moment, before a flare of heat returned it to dry stone.

An overhead swing followed after the woman, but was not met with a parry. Venus pulsed from Atropos this time as the floor itself seized her feet, pure strength pouring through her body and hardening her bones. The spear's haft rose to meet his blade and Garet's force crashed against the woman's base, unable to move her.

Garet stepped back before she could counter, watching her dispel the Psynergy. His armor had its limits. Though it stopped her from using Psynergy on him, it could do nothing to prevent her from augmenting herself with it, nor from adjusting the surroundings with it indirectly. Was that not how he had defeated the spirit legion in the first place? If he could not lock her in place and get past that spear, he would never beat her.

No. He would not let this end in a stalemate. His entire purpose in coming was to kill Atropos. If he couldn't do that, then he had wasted the opportunity.

Some other strategy, then. A different approach. She handled the spear well and knew how to use its advantages against his sword. She could use her Psynergy to make up the difference in strength between them, both directly and indirectly. Brute force could work, but it needed something else to temper it.

Garet shifted his feet, letting one hand take his blade to the side, resting the tip on the ground. The other hand rose up, calling Psynergy towards Atropos.

The air around her shifted, explosive, but before Garet could detonate it, she scattered it with a burst of wind.

He paid it no mind, already dashing forward. Flames erupted on his blade as he swung an overhand blow, his hand sliding all the way to the pommel. Atropos raised her spear, using her Venus Psynergy to block the strike again, but Garet fueled the flames. They leaped out from his blade, devouring the air as they fought to taste Atropos' skin. She flinched back from the heat; a short twitch, quickly controlled, but Garet saw it nonetheless.

His boot followed up, forcing her to parry with another spin of her spear. Sword and foot, high and low, were pushed in opposite directions. For a moment Garet panicked, feeling his balance and momentum shatter. His foot landed awkwardly, his blade too far to the side to strike or block.

Atropos was not armored, however. He was.

So he pulled one hand from his sword and punched her in the face.

The jab held no real strength behind it, only what his arm could produce, but it snapped the woman's head back. She stumbled away as Garet balanced himself once more and leapt forward, flames streaking through the air with his blade.

The king retreated, her spear flashing up as it twisted and spun through the air to deflect his one-handed strikes. Mixed within his sword swings were punches, kicks, and jets of flame. More than once Atropos had to hop backwards to avoid his attacks.

Garet understood. He had done the same, when he first encountered the style, facing down Saturos on Mercury's aerie. It was a fast, brutal manner of fighting, designed to unleash as many attacks as possible, used to keep the four of them at bay. It left no time for defense, relying on the sheer offensive presence to prevent the opponent from attacking. It had scared the hell out of them, four novices against an experienced swordsman, making them pause where they might have attacked.

He doubted it had the same effect on Atropos, but it did not matter: she had little to attack with. Her spear's edge sought the small gaps in his armor, but under his relentless assault, she had no time to line up such a precise strike.

She realized the same. Wind blasted the ground, hurling Atropos away from Garet, out of his blade's reach. The stone of the floor rose up around him, first in thick segments, then blending together. It curled around him and stopped his advance, pinning him in place.

Atropos smiled, but Garet called his Psynergy. The stone exploded outward, the concussive force passing over his armor like a whisper's breath. He shifted his focus to Atropos, but her wind flashed out, scattering his combustion before it could ignite.

He alternated with streams of fire, launching them with both hand and blade as he approached. Water merged with wind, scattering out into the air, killing his explosions before he could even form them. She called it back to her as he switched to pure fire, raising a wall of water that intercepted all his flames. When he tried to detonate it, tongues of water licked out, dousing his attempts.

Garet paused for a moment in his advance, long enough to enjoy the momentary spike in temperature from Atropos' gathering of Mercury energy. His hand flashed white as he thrust it forward, a beam of pure Mars energy cutting through the air. It struck the water, flashing it to steam with a high-pitched shriek.

The steam obscured everything, but Garet did not need his eyes to feel it.

At the center of his beam, the wall of water gave way. The Mars energy overcame it, turning it to steam before punching all the way through to Atropos. The wall shifted to envelop Atropos, shielding her from the Psynergy long enough for Garet to pick out a fresh pulse of Mercury Psynergy. The barrier of water collapsed and his beam burned across an empty floor.

He spun around to find Atropos across the room, her hair disheveled and one sleeve blackened. She stared at him, but made no attempt to attack or speak.

Garet found himself as surprised as her. He could put a lot of power behind his Psynergy, but his true skill lay in his knowledge of how to apply it. He had meant to use the Psynergy as a distraction, to draw Atropos' attention and attack in another manner.

He had never, in any of his quick plans, accounted for the possibility of overpowering her own Psynergy. That just wasn't possible. She might not have known Mercury inherently, but the power of the Golden Sun gave her near limitless control over it. To outmuscle that, he would need-

Wait.

It couldn't be.

No way.

Garet held up one hand, an orange flame appearing above his palm. "Huh. Looks like we were all tricked." He poured energy into it, turning the flame yellow. "Guess you shouldn't feel so bad about it." The flame burned white. "Best place to hide something is in plain sight, after all."

More Psynergy than he had ever used poured into his hand, the white fire contained only by his will and growing brighter. He bypassed his own methods of rationing his Psynergy, turning straight to the well at his core, and found he could no longer see the bottom. He had no idea if there even was one.

This was the power of the Golden Sun. That limitless source of energy and power, a full quarter of the absolute power of creation. Had it been with him the whole time, instead of Isaac? How had he never noticed it before? Had he never needed to dig that far down, draw that much power, satisfied with his normal methods of rationing his Psynergy?

Atropos' eyes stared at the flame in his hand, flickering like some apparition in a bog. "The Sun," she whispered. "Give it to me."

"Uh, no."

"I will spare you and your friends," Atropos said, her eyes unwavering. "I will spare your cities. I will do anything. Name your terms."

He stared at her for a few seconds in silence. "My terms? My terms?" The words came out in a snarl. "My terms are a world that doesn't fear the Anemoi. My terms are a Tolbi that isn't destroyed. My terms are a friend that didn't die with it, another that isn't being eaten by guilt, and another that wasn't used as a personal punching bag. My terms are too much for you to afford, Atropos." His face pulled up into a sneer at the rage that crossed her face. "Don't worry, though. You'll get the Sun alright."

Garet's hand rolled over, the palm moving from the ceiling to the king. He reached into that well and found an ocean waiting for him. Waves of Psynergy answered his call, crashing from his mind to his palm. Pure white flames filled the chamber between himself and Atropos, so bright that he had to squint, unwilling to look away. He cut them off a few seconds later and the room dimmed. Black patterns rolled across the stone floor, shining in the morning light from the open doorway.

Atropos stood at the center of an unmarked section of stone, the scorch marks curved around her. Wind, Garet realized. Though he might hold a small advantage over her Mercury skills, she had the same innate understanding of Jupiter that he did of Mars, both with the same endless source to draw upon.

But she still had no armor.

The palace doors lay open behind her, but Garet knew she would never leave. Not while the final piece of the Golden Sun stood before her. Her pride and greed would never let her step outside, unless it was to draw him out. Were she to do that, he would lose the ability to corner her, as well as the ability to throw around his Psynergy. She could use the Anemoi to her advantage, forcing Garet to protect them.

Garet was not sure why she stayed inside, whether her pride prevented her from admitting she could not defeat him, or if she just didn't think of the benefits of taking the fight outside. He didn't care, either.

"We both made pretty big mistakes, Atropos." Flames ignited along his blade again as he swung, well out of range of the woman. She raised a hand, parting them, but Garet pulled them back together from either side. She parted them again, and Garet reversed four streams back onto her. He had so much control! He had learned his limits during his travels and pushed them afterward, but slowly. He never thought about how much simpler things seemed after their journey had ended. He assumed he had just become accustomed to his training.

The fractals of flame and wind continued, arcing through the air in an elaborate dance. "I should have killed you in your sleep. I wanted to, you know. But there was that nagging voice, constantly wondering: what if you were telling the truth? Your voice, I bet."

He marched forward. Atropos' eyes remained on him as her Psynergy swirled around her, keeping his own at bay. Their power was equal, and she had more experience with her element. He had lost count of how many streams danced around her, a cage of pulsating flame links. He felt them in his mind; he needed no number. "But you messed up too. You're probably right. Knowing a dream lets you change it. But to do that, you've gotta be able to change it."

She could never change this outcome, Garet knew. She was powerful. She was experienced. She was not as rusty as Isaac mentioned Clotho had been. But she was still arrogant. She was still accustomed to a life of leisure, of servants, of getting what she wanted. She was used to making others do what she wanted.

She had little experience in doing it herself.

Garet had spent years training, ever since the storm in Vale. He never let it slide, never gave into excuses. He forced himself, every day, to follow his plans, to continue pushing himself. His successful entrance into Colosso had not surprised him, nor had he expected to lose. He knew he would have won, because that was what he trained for. He trained to fight. He trained to win, at all times.

The splitting stopped. The red threads around the Anemian pulled taut as the Valean reached her, binding down on the woman. Wind burst out, shoving them away, but they arced away once more, bending around Garet. He raised his sword as the wind buffeted him to no effect, the Mars energy behind him converting at his command, joining his strike. It wouldn't reach her. It didn't need to.

"You're fighting the greatest in the world."

He never doubted this outcome. He knew her, and he knew himself.

Atropos lacked discipline.

Garet did not.

The explosion shook the entire palace. Garet felt the reverberations through his armor as the light faded, Atropos hurtling across the chamber. She crashed into the ground and rolled across the stones before hitting the bottom of the double doors that led to the rooftop throne room. Her spear landed elsewhere, torn from her hands. Light shone through the open doors opposite her, Garet's shadow covering her.

Scattered flames lingered on as Garet stepped through them. His eyes remained fixed on the king as she pushed herself back into a sitting position, her elbows locked to support her upper body. Blood coated her lips, pooling in the middle of the bottom one and dripping down her chin. She made no move to wipe it away, glaring up at Garet. "You can't kill me," she spat. "If I die, the Golden Sun goes with me. It won't just transfer to you."

Garet held up one hand, white flames dancing along the palm. "Yeah? Good riddance. I've got the only part I'd want, anyway. Take the rest of it with you to hell."

Atropos screamed at him. No words that he could make out left her mouth, just a feral roar, mixed with spit and blood. Her wide eyes, shrunken pupils, and bloody teeth completed the image of a rabid animal on the floor, wanting to rip his throat out for no other reason than that it could.

Her rage sputtered and died as she began to cough, her posture breaking as she leaned down to the floor, painting it with more blood. Her entire body trembled as Garet watched, the flames vanishing.

He waited until the coughs ceased before he spoke, his voice shaking like the woman. "You have no idea the things I want to do to you, Atropos. The things you did to Ivan... You would look like an amateur. But I've seen the way revenge twists people. Consider yourself lucky."

Despite her collapsed form, her head still flicked up to look at him. "Oh? After all I did to the boy, you're just going to spare me? After I burned and broke him with his own element?"

Garet grinned. "I'm not that nice."

She began to laugh. Her cackle bounced off the stones, echoing throughout the entrance hall. It dug into Garet's ears, making the man grit his teeth.

He raised his blade. She was slender, he was not. It would only take a single swing.

As the blade fell, Garet's feet pulled out from underneath him.

He slammed into the ground, the armor doing nothing to soften the landing, then slid a short distance backwards, Atropos moving out of reach. His sword stayed in his grip only out of reflex and conditioning. He tried pushing himself to his feet, but found his legs bound by something.

As he turned to find out what, his visor passed a pair of boots. One snapped out, slamming into his head. The force carried through the helm and it rebounded off the floor, light flashing in Garet's eyes. His whole head felt fuzzy and thick, thoughts struggling to push themselves through.

The helm shifted. Someone pulled it off and his full range of vision returned. It spun for a moment, then settled on the face of a tall, blond man in white armor. His green eyes were all too familiar.

"Well," he murmured, staring down at Garet. "Isn't this convenient?"

One hand moved to his forehead as Lachesis sank to one knee, Psynergy pulsing from him. Garet gasped without sound as he felt himself drawn towards the king, despite not moving. The edges of his vision grew white as he struggled to remain conscious, unsure of what was happening, but feeling very, very wrong about it.

And then, like the cork pulled from a barrel of ale, he felt his Psynergy draining out of his body, guzzled down by the Anemian king. Some part of his mind recognized what was happening, connected it to other knowledge, but he could not focus on it. Every task had become complex beyond words. He had to focus on his breathing. On not collapsing back to the floor. On keeping his eyes open.

Another voice cut across the room. Not Lachesis, not Atropos. He knew that voice. Whatever it said, the terrible drain ceased a moment later. Garet gasped for air as his lungs returned to automatic use, every muscle in his body strained to exhaustion.

He would not let that clarity escape him. He blinked three times, then shifted, sweeping his eyes around. Atropos still laid against the doors, her eyes now watching Lachesis. The king had backed away from him, but Garet could do no more than think about lifting his sword at the moment.

Sheba stood in the doorway, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

"Phoebe," the man said. "You dare show your face here, after your betrayal?"

The girl opened her mouth, but the words Garet expected never came. A pulse of Mercury Psynergy brought Atropos to Sheba, and though the woman collapsed to one knee upon her appearance, she still had strength enough to hold one hand out to the girl. Jupiter flowed between them, the same syphon drawing energy from her that had just drawn the same from him. "All our children are traitors, it seems," she rasped.

Footsteps echoed in the hall. Atropos ignored them. She never saw the hand until it slammed into the side of her neck, driving her away from Sheba and into the wall.

Lachesis held her up with one arm as his own Psynergy filled the air. "You hold no authority over my daughter, nor any room to speak of treason, Urania."

Her fingers clawed at his hand, scraping across the white gauntlet. Her own Psynergy pulsed, trying to defend against Lachesis' assault, but his own had already shattered her ability to concentrate.

"Did you think I knew nothing of your plans?" His hand squeezed tighter, the color in the woman's face rolling between red and white, then back again. "My dreams have been warning me of your desires for the better part of a century. I'm fortunate that we are both patient, however." His grip loosened again, allowing her to draw in a breath. "Thank you for collecting this for me."

She dropped as he released her. The woman slid down the wall and collapsed, her hands flying to her throat. Her hair faded to white and one hand reached out, clutching at Lachesis' boot.

He pulled it out of her reach and she sighed before collapsing into dust.

Garet could not move. Sheba had stumbled against the open door when Lachesis pulled Atropos away from her, but her gaze had not left the pair since. He wanted to tell her to run, to get away, but he knew doing so would only draw Lachesis' attention. She could not outrun him.

When the king turned, however, it was not to Sheba, but to Garet. His hand raised and the nauseating syphon returned. Clouds of exhaustion and confusion filled his mind again, but they vanished just as quickly.

Sheba had stepped inside, one hand still on the door for support. "I'll... I'll stay," she called out, breathless.

"You will stay regardless," Lachesis said, his hand still pointed at Garet.

"I'll stay willingly," she said, pausing to draw a deep breath. "I promise. I'll... I'll stay here. Just let him go!"

The last remaining king watched her for a moment. "You realize that he will simply lead the remainder of your allies back here to rescue you, where they will all die." He received silence in response. "Very well. I would rather deal with them now, than wait and allow them to continue to harass our efforts. Guards!"

He turned away from Garet as the pair of men dismissed by Atropos moved through the doorway. "Remove this man's armor. When you have finished, escort him to the edge of the city and send him on his way."

He made no effort to resist the guards as they doffed his armor. Even had he seen a point in doing so, he lacked the energy to do so. They stripped it away, piece by piece. Psynergy smothered Garet; while he could barely feel his own reserves of Psynergy anymore, the ocean of power gone, he still felt the wall rise up between them. He noticed the same seal settling over Sheba.

As the guards led him down the stairs, he glanced back to find Sheba watching him go. She mouthed a single word to him before Lachesis' hand landed on her shoulder, moving her out of sight.

One.

One king left.

One king who now held the complete power of Alchemy, as well as a complete immunity to Psynergy.