“What more do we have to lose before you realize this is not working, Zemi?” Zento choked, forcing the words between his teeth.

The Marked army of Zeromus was on the move across the Outterlands. And they were moving fast, with renewed purpose. Zemi didn’t question. He knew there was only one place Zeromus would strike next – the mountain city of Wyndor.

With Ceiswyr in ruins, Wyndor was the last bastion of safety afforded to those who made the migration out of the Islands. It was the place where the women and children had gone to take refuge. And it was just like Zeromus to strike out at the weak and defenseless in order to tear at the hearts of those who had the will and power to fight the darkness.

Looking back over his shoulder, Zemi only had to get a glimpse of the haggard, lined face of Zento to know that to be true. Zeromus’ tactics had struck home with the death of SaRa, leaving the winged Champion in shambles.

Zemi didn’t pause to wonder how much fighting will was left in Zento. There was no time.

The moment the Dragons and scouts from the Spiral reported a mass motion of the Marked army away from the Spiral proper, Zemi knew what it meant. He had gathered what Dragons and men that remained able to fight and ordered a direct high-speed flight after the shadowy forces in attempt to intercept the attack on Wyndor.

The Spiral warriors, without wings to fly, had opted to stay behind, working to clean up their city and hunt down any straggler Marked that might still remain. There was also the strange report of one smaller band of Marked that had turned back and re-entered the Inner Realms by way of the Passage. Whether the report was true or not didn’t concern Zemi, though. The fewer Marked laying siege to Wyndor, the better.

Zemi’s whole being was focused forward, the great white war Dragon’s wings stretched, bending the wind around him as he flew with unearthly speed. His mind was locked on the movement of Zeromus’ armies. The heat of anger and vengeance coursed through his form, leaving light-flecked shimmers in the sky behind.

SaRa had been one of his own, like a child that he had raised. He had known her since she had been very small. Though he did not teach her as much as he had taught Zento, he had still watched her grow up to become a leader at her brother’s side. The thought that he would never hear her warm, chiding voice or feel her kindly hugs again… left a hollow sensation in the depths of Zemi’s being. Something that he could only define as the Earthian feeling of grief.

Someone would pay for this loss. Someone would feel the same grief that he did. And that someone would be Zeromus.

“Zemi,” Zento’s voice struggled to be heard above the wind. His fingers gripped the thick white Dragon mane where he lay against the Dreigiau’s neck. When Zemi didn’t respond, the Champion called louder, “Zemi!”

-I hear you, Zento.-

“Zemi, this is crazy!” Zento tugged back on the mane to accent his words. “The men are exhausted. We’ve just come through one battle and have had no rest. No sleep! You’re flying them too hard!”

-There is no time. Wyndor will be under attack and the Marked move quickly. They will not rest, and neither should we.-

“The Marked are nothing but soulless beasts! Of course they need no rest!” Zento half snarled.

-Soulless beasts? Is that what you would call your son? -

A deep silence fell from behind. Instantly, Zemi regretted his thoughtless words. But it was the truth, unspoken or not. Zento should know that – he should be realistic about the situation.

Finally, when the Champion spoke again, his tone was broken and somber, “Our men are not Marked. We can’t keep this pace, Zemi. Maybe you can go without resting, but the Earthians can not.”

The Dreigiau gave a rumble of impatience and slight frustration. Taking a break would put the Marked armies even further ahead of them than they were already. Soon, there would be no interception… and allowing the Marked into the halls of Wyndor was not permissible.

Receiving no reply, Zento pressed further, “What do you expect our men to be able to do, even if we do reach Wyndor in this condition? An evacuation takes planning, time and energy. That’s another long trip, likely with the Marked nipping at our heels.”

-Evacuation?- Zemi couldn’t hide his tone of surprise.

“Right… evacuation. That… is… what we’re going to do, right Zemi?”

-And just give up Wyndor to Zeromus the same way we lost the Islands?-

“You certainly don’t mean to fight! Not after all of this!” Zento answered incredulously.

-What other options do you think that we have?-

“That is not what you were instructed to do, Zemi. Fighting Zeromus has done nothing but lead us to loss and destruction! We’re just not strong enough!”

-I will make that decision for myself! No one instructs Zemi Dreigiau to do anything!-

A roar of frustration bellowed from Zemi’s throat, breaking the clouds in front of them. He could feel Zento’s hands shake just a bit where they still held fast to the white mane. Then the grip grew solid and resolved again — there was about to be an argument.

“What more do we have to lose before you realize this is not working, Zemi?” Zento choked, forcing the words between his teeth. “We’ve lost a lot of men… we’ve lost SaRa…”

-Are you blaming that on me, now?-

“No! I’m blaming that on that Bane Child Sygnus that you protected all this time. And now it’s just as I said it would be!” the Champion snapped with a grating voice. “This is just the beginning – he’s going to destroy us! He’s going to destroy you! And you’re going to walk straight into it… taking all of our people with you because you can’t see that–”

-ENOUGH!-

“Don’t you tell me enough, Zemi Dreigiau!”

-YOU ARE MY CHAMPION AND YOU WILL DO AS I TELL YOU!-

“I am your Champion because you don’t understand enough about your own people to know what’s good for them!” Zento retorted. “Well, I say enough! I am a Champion… and I champion my people! I refuse to watch you lead them into destruction because you’re too stubborn and proud to accept good advice when you are given it!”

Zemi gave a grudging growl, scolded and annoyed. But he gave ground knowing that the winged warrior spoke parts of truth. Zento had sacrificed much to follow the Dreigiau’s visions… and he had always acted as a bridge between Earthian and Arweinydd kind. It had not been an easy road for the Champion and his family. And it was rare that Zento’s advice regarding Earthians was wrong – he had an exceptional judge of character.

-Zento…- the Dreigiau approached with a quieter tone, -This has been difficult for us all. You are responding and talking out of your grief.-

However, trying to sympathize only earned the opposite reaction to what he had hoped.

“Zemi Dreigiau!” the Champion fumed, tone growing angry. “Don’t you dare tell me that I’m talking out of my head due to grief! I’m the only one making sense here!”

-And I don’t make sense just because I want to defend what is ours?-

“There’s a time to fight and a time to cut your losses,” Zento muttered. “We tried this with Ceiswyr. And honestly, we had a better chance at defending the Islands than we do fighting in a giant hole in the ground. But we still lost. We’re going to lose again, Zemi. This isn’t going to work.”

-You don’t know that.-

“Do you have some miracle up your sleeve that I don’t know about?”

Zemi fell silent. The truth was… he didn’t. He had nothing but the rage of justice within him. And the loyalty of his people to back him on his rampage.

For just a moment, a trickle of doubt traced through Zemi’s mind.

“You don’t, do you?” Zento’s voice was grim.

-I’ll think of something.-

“The time for thinking is over,” the Champion intoned brokenly. “Zeromus has taken most of my family from me. I will protect the one I have left… no matter what I have to do.”

-I see.-

There was no arguing with that, not once Zento got something into his head. Still, times were much too dangerous for Arweinydd and Champion to be divided in heart.

After a time, Zento spoke again, “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you.”

-You’ve never disappointed me, Zento.-

“I know what you’re thinking right now. You can’t fool me, Zemi.”

-I can’t fool you,- the Dreigiau admitted. -But I’m not disappointed in you. I chose you as my Champion because of your fearless spirit and potential. I knew that you would always do what you felt was right.-

“I try, Zemi…” the Champion sighed. “I know you try, too.”

That sounded positive. At the least, that Zento wasn’t still angry. He was never the kind to stay angry long. So it was a good time to pursue things.

-If you don’t think we should defend Wyndor, what do you think we should be doing?-

“Evacuating,” Zento answered.

-Evacuate to where? Zeromus will hunt us and find us. You know that.-

“We should try the Vision Stone. Like the voice in the Lion’s Keep suggested.”

-And how do you know about that?- Zemi asked quizzically. He hadn’t talked a lot about his experience in the Stone Keep and the voices that spoke to him who claimed to be Arweinydd kind from the Time Before.

“Let’s just say I pick up on more than you give me credit for, Zemi,” the Champion’s voice had a slight smirk to it.

Zemi sighed. -So you trust in what some unknown voice instructs me to do?-

Zento was quiet for a moment, “I don’t know. But there might be something to it. I saw the images on the wall, Zemi. Someone knew about us before we even existed.”

-How do we know that “someone” means us well?-

“I suppose we don’t. But sometimes you have to have a little faith in the unknown,” the winged warrior answered softly. “I don’t see how it would mean us ill if it was suggesting a way to escape from Zeromus.”

-Perhaps… but even if we did make the journey to the Vision Stone, there is no promise that we will find any help there. We’d be in the same situation as before… with no strategic ground to defend,- Zemi reasoned.

“I suppose that’s true, too. I just have a hunch… call it warrior’s Earthian intuition.”

-Aren’t you the one telling me not to rely on feelings, Zento?-

The Champion sighed and did not answer.

They flew on for a short while, the Dreigiau’s speed significantly slower than before. Something within Zemi yearned to find peace and unity with the winged warrior – Zento had been by his side through so many things. And it very well could be that this was their final stand together.

-Why don’t we give defense of Wyndor a shot? Then, if things start to look bad, we’ll head towards the Vision Stone,- the Dreigiau reconciled.

“Is that possible? Once we get in those caves, aren’t we going to be trapped?” Zento asked with a worried frown.

-Do you really think I’d hold my ground in a place that I couldn’t escape?- Zemi responded with a sly tone.

“Hmmm?”

-So what do you say?-

Zento paused before answering, “The men need rest if you want them to go into battle. Even if the Marked get there before us, it’ll still take them time to figure out how to breach the mountain fortress, right?”

Zemi was silent. Zento was silent.

Then with a short backwing, the Dreigiau turned about face towards the army behind him. His voice filled the sky, rolling off the clouds, seemingly effortlessly.

-We will stop to rest here for a time. Tend those who need tending. Eat if you need to. Sleep for a short time. Then we move on to defend Wyndor!-

A grateful sound from men and Dragons both came in response. Wings of feather and scale began an exhausted spiral down towards the ground for a much-needed rest. Zento offered a tired but thankful smile as Zemi’s wings folded, carrying them down for a short landing.

The Sygnus’ long silver hair swayed with a ghostly quality, blending into the flow of mist that billowed around him.

“Lucci! Lucci, you CAN’T do this!” Kaz’s voice pleaded from behind him. The cry was so desperate. So hoarse and filled with fear. It was so unlike how his friend usually sounded.

Lucci turned, pausing just a moment on the long, broken stairway to look back. The Sygnus’ long silver hair swayed with a ghostly quality, blending into the flow of mist that billowed around him, gleaming along the outline of his tall silver wings. The mist was always there now. They were always there in the mist. There was no getting rid of Them.

No running away from what he was. They had traveled long across the now-barren lands of the Inner Realms, all the way to the darkened heart of Nefol. There was no turning back. He knew what he had to do.

“I have to stop him,” Lucci answered in a boyish way. But his voice was not a child’s voice anymore – he was no longer the boy that Kaz had guided. “There’s only one way. You know that.”

“No… Lucci… look at yourself!” the spirit motioned with both hands. “This sword… these wings… You’re not thinking straight!”

“I’m fine!” the Sygnus snapped back with a tone he had never used with his friend before. Instantly, something deep inside him felt ashamed. And he lowered his voice. “When I get done, it’ll be over with, Kaz. Then no one will have to be afraid anymore.”

Kaz just looked stunned. And older somehow. His eyes were sad, ringed with worry and the inability to stop what he saw unfolding before him. But he tried one last time, “Please, Lucci-boy. Come home with me.”

It was the wrong thing to say. And the spirit realized it with a blanch the moment that the silver light sparked in the Sygnus’ eyes.

“Home?” Lucci flourished the long slender sword in one fist. It gave off a cold and victorious light, feeding into the mists. Into the chill that surrounded the silver-haired young man. “Home? In case you didn’t notice, there is no home to go back to. The Islands have fallen! Wyndor will be next! There will be nowhere to go to! This has got to be stopped!”

Without further words, the Sygnus wheeled around and began to storm up the stairs once more. The structure that loomed before him was tall, tilted to one side and cracked up and down its length. It was what was left of the once-great Spire of Nefol. But now that the Inner Realms had completely fallen under the sway of Zeromus’ taint and darkness, there was little left of the former beauty and light of the land.

If he was nervous about what he knew was coming, Lucci didn’t show it. He simply gripped the long dark blade in one hand. With the other hand he adjusted the shoulder of his light armor… which he had pieced together from plates that belonged to people three sizes smaller than him.

Not as if that matters now. I doubt I’m going to be walking away from this fight.

Zeromus.

He was the cause of every pain, darkness and death that the Sygnus had known. Time after time. Battle after battle. Little by little… the dark, ruthless force had chipped away at the last of the light, held within the people of the Dreigiau. And now, with Ceiswyr gone, hope had plummeted, just like the Islands from the sky.

But now that I have this sword… I can defeat him. Whether or not he really is my…

All of his life, Lucci had been treated as the Bane. The one that would tear the world he loved apart. Because he was a Sygnus — a child of the heavens and the earth. Possessing unknown powers, wrapped in the cold child of death itself. And because his father was said to be Zeromus, the Hatred.

But none of that mattered now. Whether or not the people of Ceiswyr believed in him. Whether or not he had any chance against the shadow that was so much greater than him. He was going to fight it. Just like he promised Lord Zemi he would.

And maybe then… they’ll like me.

The way ahead was blocked at the top of the stairs. But this did not concern Lucci. The huge doors crashed inwards at a flick of his hand. The rock cracked and crumpled into a pile on the other side of the doorway as if it was nothing more than brittled bread. He stepped over it, his tall black boots crushing down on the rubble as if he bore an immense and invisible weight.

Kaz had stopped, frozen on the other side of the doorway. Lucci didn’t say anything, but he could feel the lack of his guide behind him. In response to his thoughts, an answer came, low and sad.

“I am not strong enough to enter Zeromus’ Keep. This is as far as I can go, Lucci-boy,” the spirit intoned with a heavy sound. Unshed tears glittered in his eyes… if such a thing could really exist within one that had passed into the Mists.

“Thank you for everything, Kaz,” the young Sygnus paused. He looked back a last time, wishing he had not. The sight of tears was almost too much for him. Almost enough to make the child he once was want to rush back and embrace his old friend. Steeling his emotions, he pursed his lips instead. “I won’t forget…”

Lucci could hear the sound of Kaz’s weeping as he turned away again, “I won’t forget you… either… Lucci-boy…”

As he walked, the anguished sound was soon swallowed up within the pressing darkness that surrounded him. The only light was the swirling of the silver mists and the dim glow that trickled from his wings. Even that seemed to struggle to remain. Breath also came hard in the depths of the Spire, as the very air there was too tainted and decayed to breathe.

The young Sygnus couldn’t see where his steps were leading him. All he had was the depths of his senses. The overwhelming knowledge of where his enemy, his father, was.

If Zeromus could be called a father at all.

I was nothing to him… nothing but a weapon.

Lucci sucked in a long breath, pausing as a shaft of light appeared somewhere in the distance. The first thing that he had seen since entering the structure.

A low hiss echoed across the darkness of the chamber. In the lone shaft of light, Lucci could see the hunched forms of shadows loping towards him. Only the slightest glimmer of black eyes, then they were gone. The room was filled with the sound of animalistic hisses and half screeches.

The Marked! They weren’t supposed to be here! I thought they’d all be in the Spiral!

The creatures of Zeromus were awake and on the prowl. Though usually the Marked were very little challenge for him – in fact, they were often too scared of Lucci to even attack him – these advanced with a particularly aggressive air.

There’s a lot of them… this could be a problem.

Claws and fangs gleamed sharply as they paced just on the fringe of the shrinking cloud of mist around the Sygnus’ feet. What had once been whole and healthy creatures… people… animals… were now nothing but decayed, mindless husks of their former life.

I should have known Zeromus wouldn’t leave himself unguarded.

Lucci had fought his share of Marked … but now he was on Zeromus’ turf where these creatures were fed directly with the dark power. And Marked were notorious for inhuman strength and speed.

I wonder if they’ll attack. And if they do… can I beat them?

The stench of decay grew too overwhelming for Lucci to bear. He drew his collar up over his nose, backing away slowly, his blade held tightly in his other hand. His silver eyes darted around, looking for anything he could use to his advantage. But there was nothing. Nothing but darkness and the wicked things that grew there.

The Marked began to fret and hiss as he moved. Some lashed at his feet with black dripping claws, reeling back as the silver mists turned away their strikes. They shrieked from it, like a creature scathed. And began to strike more fiercely at the offending mist, advancing closer and closer towards Lucci.

Suddenly, a tremendous, soul-freezing sound shattered the air. A large winged shadow swept out from walls of darkness, alighting deftly in the center of the streaming light. Another shriek erupted from its mouth as it raised a flashing, black-bladed scythe over its head. A weapon that was all too familiar to the young Sygnus.

“M…Master… TsuYa?” Lucci staggered back at the sight. For the first time, real fear began to break through his façade of bravery.

The rest of the Marked scattered at the sound of the great shriek, commanded back to their darkness once again. It was obvious that the winged Champion held a lot of power over the lesser creatures. Once the other Marked were gone, the vicious black eyes focused on Lucci. The young Sygnus recoiled more — this creature was hardly like the Master TsuYa he remembered.

Last time I saw him… he was Marked but…

The winged Marked was far larger than Lucci remembered, wrapped in the drape of cloth that had been torn and shredded where his form had out-grown it in places. His skin was a dead grey color and mottled with seething gashes of ooze where many thick black spikes had erupted through his flesh. His hair was also dark, except for the one shock of white that fell across his brow and partly obscured his face. Wide wings of black spread from his shoulders, dripping in decay.

Lucci’s stomach twisted in revulsion and grief. One of the things he had hoped to do by facing Zeromus was to free his former teacher from the curse of the Marked.

But maybe… I’m too late now.

“Put the sword down, boy,” TsuYa’s lips curled back, a showing of fangs. His clawed hands gripped the scythe in warning.

Lucci suddenly realized that he was holding his own weapon ready, as if to take on the Marked Champion. Just as quickly, he dropped the point, shivering to think what might happen should he go head to head with Master TsuYa’s battle prowess.

“That’s better.”

“You can still… talk?”

Another snarl, “Of course I can.”

“Master TsuYa, I–”

“That’s not my name anymore,” a low growl erupted from behind black eyes.

Lucci took a step back in surprise. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Afterall, if he wasn’t supposed to call Master TsuYa by his own name, he didn’t know what to call him.

“Nevermind,” the Champion gave a snuff, grounding the butt of his scythe by his boot. “Follow me. Master Zeromus is expecting you.”

“You mean… you’re going to take me to him?” the Sygnus asked.

“Those were my orders.”

“Oh?” Lucci said, feeling the prickle of unease over his skin.

But before he could ask any more questions, Master TsuYa was already on the move, heading towards the single dark outline of an arched doorway ahead. The Sygnus followed quickly, not wanting to be left behind when the other Marked crept out once again.

Unlike the previous chambers, this one was alight with an eerie silver glow. A familiar sort of light – the kind that Lucci always saw in the mists around him. Only, this silver didn’t belong to him. Or the mists. It was something else. And as he stepped inside, he could see that the glow was contained in a large glass-like globe.

But Zeromus was nowhere to be found.

“What is this?” the Sygnus asked, turning towards the Champion.

The way that the silver reflected off of Master TsuYa’s hollow eyes was unnerving. Just as unnerving as the silence. The winged Marked said nothing. He simply back-stepped out of the room. Before Lucci could argue, the arched doorway shut with a thunderous sound, leaving no spot in the wall that showed there had ever been a door before.

“WAIT!” Lucci shouted, fear beginning to bubble up within him. He pounded on the wall with one fist. But it was closed solid. “Master TsuYa! Don’t leave me here!”

There was nothing but silence as his answer.

Maybe there’s another way out…

Lucci peered around the strange chamber cautiously. His limbs felt suspended and his motions, even walking, odd and under-watery. Light seemed to flicker through draping veils of various color from above, casting skittering shadows upon the wall. The floor under his feet, looking to have once been polished to a shine, was far too grimy now to give up his reflection.

The humid stench of death and long-rot draped over the room, seeping into his pores. Death of a very violent nature. Long, stiff figures lay crumpled against the far wall, some seeping dark pools that charted rivers across the grimy floor. Faceless, they were covered in long white squares of cloth, bearing the splattered remembrance of once-living things.

Why does this place feel so familiar…?

In the center of the room was a display of technological wonder. Everything about it was eerily alien — a strange spiral of life tangled within death. The structure emanated a pale, ghostly light as if infused by the lost souls of the pooling figures on the far side of the chamber.

Why do I think that I’ve been here before?

“Because,” a distant voice rose to greet him. A voice that he knew without knowing. “This was the place where you came into existence, LuShi.”

The Sygnus turned quickly, gripping his sword more tightly. “Zeromus.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Come out and show yourself!” Lucci grounded his teeth, turning around again. There was no sight of the bearer of the voice.

“My son… Are you so ready to take this step without knowing all there is to know?”

He shook his head, “I’ve seen enough. I know enough. And I’m not your son!”

“You can deny many things about yourself, child. But you cannot deny that,” the voice chuckled softly. It was so calm. Bearing so little ill will.

But Lucci knew it had to be a trick. “I’m here to put an end to this. You’ve taken… you’ve killed… too many people!”

“And you think you have not?” came the ripple of an answer.

The Sygnus grew stiff, a cold feeling bottoming at the pit of his stomach. When he answered, it was with slow words, “No. I’ve never killed anyone.”

“Are you sure, LuShi?”

“Yes! I’m sure! I’ve never hurt anyone! I’ve never killed anyone! Nothing except for your Marked… but they’re already dead,” he replied, becoming a bit more frantic.

“Ahh… but that is where you are unaware.”

“Unware?”

“Unaware of yourself. What you are. And what was done to create you.”

Part of Lucci reeled back in revulsion. Did he want to know? For knowing, once unlocked, could never be taken back. Everything he had ever learned in life had only stolen away the innocence that had brought him happiness.

Yet…

It was too tempting. There were so many questions he had. So many things he wanted to know.

“I have brought you here to give you a gift, my son,” the voice was coaxing. Almost warm. Almost fatherly.

And much to his dismay, something within Lucci responded to that voice. Something that he found he had very little control over.

“You see… you may not have killed anyone by your own hand, child. But hundreds upon hundreds died to bring about your creation,” the words intoned, burning into his mind. “To feed your soul and give it awareness… to bind you to the world of the Mists. Where death is your power… and your one hungry desire.”

Lucci began to shake.

People… died?  He killed people… to create me?

“Yes… I know you’ve felt it, LuShi. You can’t escape what you were born to become. Already, it’s begun. The wings are just the start,” the voice told him gently. “You’ve fought and fought to be like them. And all they will ever do is reject you. Because you are so much more… you are the embodiment of all that the living fear.”

“No…” his voice cracked with pain. The pain of realization. That what Zeromus said was true. As much as he hated it. It was all true.

I wasn’t born. I was made.

His eyes lifted, darkened by the churning shadows that drew nearer and nearer. That crowded his mind. Twisted his thought.

And I was made with this curse. This curse powered by death…

The strange silver light held within the globe in the center of the room churned in time to the darkness outside. And he felt strangely compelled to walk towards it. One hand reached up, towards the calling light.

I was made to become exactly what he wanted me to be — the Bane.

“That’s right… here is your gift, my son,” the voice urged him. “Take it. Receive your real wings.”

Real wings? But I already have…

Lucci withdrew his hand quickly. But it was a moment too late. Cracks had already formed along the side of the globe – the silver light was compelled to move towards Lucci just as much as he was to it. That’s when he realized that locked within were the spirits of all those who had been destroyed in order to create him.

“NO!” he pulled back with a sharp breath.

But the orb shattered, sending a spray of glass across the room. Shards slashed into his flesh, but Lucci did not feel it. The only thing he could see was the churning silver light as it rose up over him like a cresting wave. As it crashed down on him, he could feel an immense power rush through his limbs, lifting him up, even as a cry of despair rang from his lips.

He was losing himself.

Fragments.

He saw hundreds of lives flash before his eyes.

Joy. Sorrow. Discovery. Loss. All of it drew into him.

All of it filled every inch of him, squeezing him from inside until he felt like he would burst. Squeezing him until all that was himself could no longer be told apart from that which was so many others.

Burning.

And when he looked into the last remaining crest of glass, where the round orb once stood, he saw a reflection that he did not recognize. Blood streaks. Long, ragged silver hair. A dark sword in one hand. And the large arcs of silver wings rising from his back.

But, no matter how intently he looked, he could not remember his name.

A soft voice rose up, tickling the back of his mind. He thought he should know it.

He thought that there was something about the voice that was important. Perhaps it was the reason he was standing there in that strange room to begin with?

But none of that mattered as he listened with new delight. For the voice was offering him something he had lost — his name.

“Luccious. My son… you have come back to me.”

Before the Athrylith realized what he was doing, he had thrown his arms around his father’s shoulders, hugging him tightly.

“Zento?” the golden, familiar voice echoed off the glassy walls of the Wyndor chambers.

SoYa looked over to see Lady KaiShi, in her person form, walking towards the slumped blue and white figure of his father. The slick floors reflected them from below, images of sorrow and concern. They had not been in Wyndor for very long before she had sought him out.

The Lady Dragon paused a few feet away from the winged warrior, giving him a chance to respond. Father’s sunken green eyes flicked up at her. He attempted a watery smile that only made him appear all the more mournful.

SoYa felt a lump in his throat as he watched. It was hard… so hard… to see the burden of Father’s pain. He had always been one of the most powerful, unbreakable forces that the young Athrylith had known. So much loss, both TsuYa and now Aunt SaRa, had broken much of that spirit, and SoYa did not know how to begin to comfort him.

Lady KaiShi seemed to have a better idea of what to do. With a gentle face, she swept her arms around Father and gave him a long, sympathetic hug. Her voice was schooled to strength, “Oh, Zento… I’m so sorry.”

The Athrylith watched with a slight ponder as Father not only allowed the hug… but actually embraced the Lady Dragon in return. Something within SoYa felt glad to see a display of affection that Father would respond to, as unexpected as it was.

Well that’s… interesting.

Not that SoYa could blame him… she was very pretty, despite being a Dragon. He continued to watch them from a distance, seeing that Lady KaiShi was also successful in getting Father to start some sort of conversation once the embrace completed. Eventually, as the talk began to get deeper, he even saw the winged warrior attempt another slight smile.

I’m glad. Father really does need someone to talk to.

It had been a while since SoYa had been in Wyndor. Not much had changed, save for the signs of the women and children who had migrated there before the attack on Ceiswyr. The caverns were large enough to house all of the refugees, plus the Dragons that normally dwelt there. No doubt that they had all had a safe and comfortable stay… up until now.

Now the threat of invasion is looming overhead. No one could have ever expected Wyndor could be under attack, not so far away from Nefol.

At the far end of the main chamber, Zemi was in deep conference with the Dragons and leaders of the winged armies. There wasn’t a lot of time – though they had arrived in Wyndor ahead of the Marked invasion, traces of Zeromus’ dark forces had been spotted scouting out the face of the mountainside. No matter how they fortified, there was little doubt that somewhere, somehow, they would find some way to break the defenses and flood into the chambers. All that that could be done was to be ready for when that time came.

“There is a Cynosure point located in the far west wing of the underground passage,” Zemi’s gritty voice carried through the tall vaulted chamber, despite having taken his person form for the sake of the meeting. “I’ve already attuned it to open a rift near the Vision Stone should we have a need to evacuate.”

“Evacuate, Lord Zemi?” one of the Dragons asked. “Why would we need to do that? We can hold Wyndor!”

“I have every confidence that we can,” the Dreigiau replied. “But should things go sour for any reason, be looking for my signal to move into the west wing for evacuation. I want all the women and children held there for safety, just in case we do need them to move quickly.”

“I don’t understand, Lord Zemi… but we’ll do as you ask,” the Dragon replied with a quizzical look.

“It’s a promise I made that I plan to keep,” Zemi didn’t explain more, he simply gave the Dragon a pat on the muzzle with a quiet frown.

A promise to Father, I bet. Father really doesn’t want to put up a defense here. I’m not sure I understand why…

SoYa was no tactician, but Wyndor seemed to be far more defendable than even the Islands had been. There were so many chambers and tunnels to set up ambushes, ways to block and confuse an invading army… not to mention that the Dragons knew every nook and cranny like the back of their tail, having lived there for so long.

I guess Father is just trying to play it careful. Especially after all that’s happened.

The Athrylith gave a soft sigh and leaned with his back against the wall. Father should have been a part of that meeting… but people were giving him his space to mourn. SoYa couldn’t help but worry and wonder if Father would really be in shape to fight the next battle at all.

As he settled back to ponder further, he heard the sound of his name from the other side of the chamber. Glancing up, SoYa found both Lady KaiShi and Father watching him. He gave them a questioning look.

“Isn’t that right, SoYa?” the Lady Dragon asked, including him in the middle of a conversation he had not been following at all.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you’re asking, Lady?” he answered politely, trying not to stammer under her deep gaze.

She just gave him a kind smile. With a sweeping motion of one arm, she took his shoulder and led him back towards Father. Her tone was teasing and golden, “Now, SoYa, you should know the best course of action is to always agree with a Lady without question. Am I right?”

“Yes, Lady KaiShi,” he felt the flush rising in his cheeks.

“There you go. You catch on quickly, don’t you? You’re a regular gentleman, like your father,” she chided him warmly.

Zento gave a pale smile in response. It might have been the first real smile that SoYa had seen in a long time.

“Yes, Ma’am. I try,” he bobbed his head to her.

“Well, if you must know, I was telling your father how much you must be worried for him.” And just like that, the Lady Dragon had ushered father and son together, giving SoYa the chance that he had hoped for — to offer his concern and support.

He didn’t question how she knew. He just took the gifted opportunity.

“Well, maybe a little,” SoYa answered, trying not to appear overly anxious.

As was Father’s way, he turned the question backwards, “How are you holding up, SoYa?”

Expecting the question, the Athrylith had an answer ready, “I’m alright, Father. It’s been tough for everyone, but AsaHi has been with me.”

“Yes… of course. AsaHi’s a wonderful girl…” Father’s thoughts seemed to trail off, leading to a dead end in the conversation.

SoYa observed him for a moment. Up close he could see it. Really feel it. So much of the spirit-light that used to show in the winged man’s eyes had dulled. It was almost as hard to bear as the loss of TsuYa… or Aunt SaRa.

Before the Athrylith realized what he was doing, he had thrown his arms around his father’s shoulders, hugging him tightly. Father gave a surprised sound, but relaxed, murmuring his last remaining son’s name.

SoYa struggled to find the words to express the feelings that burned within his chest. He wanted to be a source of comfort for Father, just as Father had always been for him. He wanted Father to know how much he loved him… how important Father was to him. How proud SoYa was to have him as a father.

But the words all caught in his throat. Nothing seemed potent enough to convey the intensity of the emotion that choked all sound on his tongue.

Ever-helpful, Father just nodded and whispered gently, “I know. I know, SoYa. And I love you so much, too.”

The Athrylith could only nod in confirmation as the winged man gave him one last strong squeeze. No matter how distressed Father got, his hugs were always a power to be reckoned with.

Lady KaiShi was standing, watching them both with a playful smile on her lips. As she caught SoYa’s eye, she beamed brightly at him. “Was that so hard to do?”

“No Ma’am,” he replied with a shake of his head.

“I didn’t think so. Not for a courageous boy like you,” she teased again.

Just for a moment as they stood there, a feeling of something old and familiar washed over SoYa’s body. As if they had once said and done something like this a very long time ago. It was hard to tell, but he thought that the two could also feel it, as they gave slightly bewildered looks between them.

Then, the moment was gone. And all that was left was the quizzical air between them and the distant call of Zemi’s voice.

Father shook his head out before turning to glance back at the Dreigiau, “That appears to be my cue.”

“I will come as well,” KaiShi nodded.

“Should I?” SoYa offered, still worried about how Father would hold up under the stress of battle planning.

“I think I’ll be alright now. Thank you, SoYa,” the winged man nodded and gave him a light clap on the shoulder. “You should probably go find AsaHi. I bet she’s looking for you.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” SoYa nodded and rubbed his hand through his thick curly hair as he turned to walk away. Something deep inside was strangely reluctant to leave, but he didn’t understand why. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Of course,” Father offered him a struggling but genuine smile. Then, with a flick of his silver-flecked wings, he turned to join the leader’s council in the great hall of Wyndor.

The great maw snapped open with a gleam of fangs. A stream of pure energy shot across the room as the Marked shadows began to boil at the foot of the cave door.

The sound of dragon-alarm echoed through the depths of the Wyndor chambers, startling AsaHi from her restless sleep. She didn’t know how long she had been sleeping or how much time had passed since they had arrived in the Dragon city, but she could feel that it had not been enough time to get things as situated as Zemi would have liked for the defense against the Marked siege.

Next to her, SoYa was stumbling to his feet with a groggy look. He, too, must have attempted to get what little sleep as was offered. His hair bushed out in all directions as he jammed the square-topped cap down over it. In better times, this would have made AsaHi laugh… but for now, laughter was dimmed as the sound of battle began to flood the hallways.

“AsaHi!” was all her Promised said before he took her wrist, urging her up and moving.

Getting her feet under her, she rushed to keep up with his longer stride.

They had hardly gone half the length of the room when a looming shadow burst through the doorway ahead of them. AsaHi stumbled back with a yelp of surprise as SoYa’s staff leveled forward, lighting the room with a brilliant golden glow.

“SoYa! Put that out!” Zemi’s gritty voice groaned from where the Dreigiau was squinting away from the light. “You’re going to alert every goo-dripper around that we’re here!”

“Oh!” the Athrylith sounded abashed as he lowered the staff. “I was just–”

“Yes, I know. Very courageous, kiddo. Now come quickly — follow me,” Zemi beckoned.

“Where are we going?” AsaHi rushed after the Dreigiau without a moment’s hesitation. SoYa was a little less eager to move forward, peering down the length of the shadowy stone halls before following.

“We need to secure the last of the children in the west wing before the Marked get this deep into the caverns,” the Arweinydd answered shortly. “We tried to gather everyone earlier, but we just haven’t had enough time!”

AsaHi peered ahead in the shadows to see the huddling forms and frightened eyes of a dozen young winged children. Among them, she could make out a few familiar faces, children she had seen and spent time with on the Islands before the Migration. Then, a dark haired girl rushed forward, waving a tiny hand in worry and calling her name.

“Suzume!” AsaHi answered back, coming to meet her.

“We’re under attack?” the little girl asked taking AsaHi’s hand with shaky fingers.

“It’ll be alright,” she attempted to sound reassuring. But it was difficult to keep the fear out of her voice.

-Yes. All will be well, but we must make haste,- a quiet voice echoed softly within AsaHi’s ears. Speech that was not speech.

A small white bird alighted down upon Suzume’s head, wings and tail flicking with what seemed to be agitation. Instantly, the girl recognized the shimmering sparrow form of the Arweinydd Zeni.  If Suzume had any surprise about acquiring the sudden feathered hairpiece, she didn’t show it — AsaHi couldn’t help but wonder at the casual demeanor between child and bird. Afterall, it wasn’t every day that an Arweinydd landed to perch on one’s head.

The roar of battle Dragons suddenly shook the walls, leaving AsaHi’s knees weak from the impact. Great voices and sounds of alarm came from the adjacent chambers.

“We’ve been blasting them down off the east wall, but they just keep coming!”

“How many are there!? The lower chamber is nothing but black and stench!”

“Those things are tearing the wings off of people! I saw it myself!”

“Hold your ground! Ready the flames. Torch anything that comes from the below!”

SoYa’s hand clamped around her wrist again, a frightened light to his wide eyes. He managed to squeak a few quavering words, “We better go!”

AsaHi nodded mutely, gathering Suzume with her free hand and rushing towards the group of shivering children, who stood frozen by the seeping aura of fear that hung heavily in the air. The side halls burst into red flame as the screeches of the invaders met with the molten fire, claws and fangs of the defending Dragons. The girl felt her breath whistling between her lips as she broke into a sprint. However, the frightened children before her only stared at the inferno glow with horrified faces, unable to move.

“Come, children! Come with me! Follow me!” AsaHi’s voice was strained with fear. She motioned with both hands, like a person trying to herd a flock of chickens away from danger. But still, they did not move.

Suddenly a pillar of white light burst up through the chamber. She only had a moment to turn and see the form of Zemi’s great white Dragon taking form – wings unfurling over them protectively, deep teal eyes glowing with a brilliant internal flame under the stream of shaggy Dragon mane. The great maw snapped open with a gleam of fangs. A stream of pure energy shot across the room as the Marked shadows began to boil at the foot of the cave door.

If the children had been frightened before, they were terrified now. But it was enough to get them moving, running as fast as tiny feet could manage. It was all AsaHi and SoYa could do to keep up and try to direct them to the same place. There were no signs of Marked ahead, only the screeches of battle and agony ringing out behind. The large, shimmering white form of Zemi followed distantly, driving the attackers off of their trail.

SoYa clutched his head now and then, squinting in pain as he ran. The sound of the Marked screeches were blood-freezing to everyone, AsaHi remembered, but were extremely painful to the Athryliths in particular.

She reached one worried hand over to grip his shoulder. Though she was too winded to manage words, he understood the motion.

“I’m fine… keep going,” SoYa replied through gritted teeth.

Before long, the winding halls forked off in many different directions. AsaHi pulled up to a stop – though she had spent much time in Wyndor before, she had never explored so deep within the mountain core. And she certainly wasn’t sure of picking her way to the west wing, as the Dragons had called it.

A few of the children were sniffling, on the verge of tears as SoYa turned around in a circle. His brow was furrowed, too, “Which way?”

-Come with me!- chirruped the answer. A streak of white zipped over their heads and down the path to the left as the tiny white Zeni-bird pointed the way through the shivering halls and chambers.

AsaHi opened her mouth with surprise. But Suzume was already tugging on her hand, pulling her forward.

“Zeni knows!” the little girl told them without a hint of doubt.

AsaHi peered at SoYa. The Athrylith only nodded.

The halls grew darker the deeper they traveled, making it more and more difficult to coax the children forward. Eventually, SoYa was forced to use his staff to light the way.

-Almost there. Don’t stop now.- The soft-spoken words brushed past her ear, somehow soothing. Renewing her determination.

“Zemi?” AsaHi turned with a questioning look. There was nothing there, no sign of the Dreigiau. But she could feel his presence, sense his awareness. She knew that the Arweinydd was there. Watching and protecting his people with the dedication and concern that of a true Patron.

She could sense it in him – the pain and fear and struggle that Zemi shared now with his people. A growing understanding of what it meant to live and die. To lose and mourn. And to fight to protect those that did not have the power to protect themselves.

In the midst of the darkness, battle and invasion, this came as a comfort. AsaHi knew that whatever happened, Zemi had found his way. He could hold his own against the threat of Chaos, now.

The Dreigiau would stand against the darkness and protect his people, no matter the odds.

“AsaHi! SoYa!” a familiar voice called their name from the end of the hall.

The girl had to squint before she could finally make out the beckoning form of JouKa, fully armed and looking ready to do battle. Without another word, the short-haired girl turned and pushed on the side of the rock face. There was a deep, startling rumble as what appeared to be a dead end in the hall began to shift and open. A brilliant, multi-faceted light burst from the widening cracks in the wall, revealing a huge chamber of shimmering wonder.

Despite the ripples of fear that still gripped her, AsaHi couldn’t help but give a long breath of amazement. Multi-colored tiles glittered and pulsed along the floors, some emitting tall shafts of rainbowed light towards the vaulted roof. Tiny, pin-pricked runes and patterns were traced along every inch of the rock, all focusing inward on one large, upraised panel of translucent stone. It was huge – big enough for even the Zemi Dragon to perch on. Staring into its swirling depths felt as if one had come face to face with heart of the universe itself.

“What is it…?” AsaHi whispered.

“A major rifting point of the Cynosure system,” Zemi’s voice answered from behind her. This time she felt his hand on her shoulder as he walked past her into the room.

“A what?” SoYa echoed with a furrowed brow.

“It be our ticket outta ‘ere,” JouKa told them with a somber look. “That’s why we’ve been bringin’ all the kids and women.”

“Go ahead. You’re safe now,” Zemi motioned the newest arrivals forward.

For the first time, AsaHi’s gaze slipped past the brilliant glow of the Cynosure stone to see a much, much larger group of people huddled in the safety of the far end of the room.

Released from their guidance, the children scampered across the chamber, hopping over the runes and shimmering tiles to join the others.

“So what exactly does it do?” AsaHi asked, carefully stepping through the doors.

“It’s a transportation system of sorts,” Zemi answered.

“Then, we’re going to evacuate?” SoYa inquired.

“If things start to turn against us, yes,” the Dreigiau nodded. “I promised your Father…”

“Then you had better call the troops in now and get these people out of here,” a ragged and broken voice intoned from behind them.

AsaHi turned with a worried frown, taking a moment to make out the shape that emerged from the shadows of the hall. She knew the man, though they had only met once before the attack on the Spiral, and she could not remember his name.

“You’re… that spirit… the one that was Lucci’s friend?” she stammered slightly.

He looked too real to be merely a spirit now. In fact, he looked just as real as anyone else there. He bore the grim and tatters of someone who had traveled a long and exhausting journey. His face was lined with a deep grief, the tips of his long ears quivering as they drooped.

“I am…” he answered hoarsely, leaning against the wall as if to catch his breath.

“How did you get here?” Zemi asked, lowering his brows.

“Are you alright?” SoYa asked at nearly the same moment.

“I’m fine,” the spirit nodded. “And how I got here is irrelevant.”

The Dreigiau crossed his arms with a frown, “Not to me.”

“Zem,” the man breathed out with a tired, pained look. “I’m here to warn you. You have to get your people out of here! You have to go to the Vision Stone… it can tap into the Ways… and it might be the only thing that’s going to save you.”

“Save me? From what?” Zemi’s eyes narrowed. For some strange reason, the Arweinydd appeared to be taking the message of warning seriously.

“It’s Lucci… I tried to stop him,” the spirit’s voice wavered, almost to the point of weeping.

“Lucci! Did they find him?” SoYa’s eyes widened. “We sent a Spiral search party for him after the battle… but no one had seen him.”

“He w-went… to face Zeromus…” the spirit choked.

“What?” Zemi moved forward, quickly gripping the other man’s shoulders. “Why?! Why did he do that without telling anyone?”

“He thought he could stop the battle… he wanted to defeat Zeromus… he wanted to protect people. But it turned out all wrong. The sword… the wings… Lucci didn’t even recognize me… I couldn’t stop him!”

“Wings?” SoYa breathed.

“Sygnus…” the spirit slumped forward. “Zeromus has Awakened the Dark Sygnus.  Luccious is coming… he’s almost here.”

Take every man and Dragon that you find to the Cynosure chamber for a full evacuation!

“Fall back! Fall ba–” the winged soldier’s words were sliced off in mid-sentence in a bubbling froth of blood and devouring silver mists.

Zento watched with wide horrified eyes as the man crumpled, then collapsed in a spray of red. Screaming and writhing, the mists surrounded him, ripping at the very fabric of his life energies and tearing the unwilling spirit from the once-living flesh. With a last jerky convulsion, they body lay still and slowly began to sink down, spreading into an oily dark patch of decay across the stone floor.

Within moments, there was nothing left.

Before Zento could gather his wits to shout a warning, the mists spread, a billowing cloud of death sweeping down over the rest of his men. The chamber was filled with the sound of unearthly shrieks of the dying, mingled with the screech of the Marked. The winged man staggered back, holding his head as the sound traced piercing pain between his ears.

Dragon flame lit the room as the majestic creatures swung about, releasing blasts of fire over the surging shadows. The heat cut through the mists, which only seethed and boiled back, spreading through the room.

“We must retreat!” Zento cried, finding his voice and making a dash for the flaming Dragons.

“We’re holding the lines, Master Zento!” one of the Dragons responded.

“There’s something else here! Something more than the Marked!” the winged man shouted, grabbing on to the great beast’s foreleg.

“Lord Zemi ordered us to remain!”

“Lord Zemi wouldn’t want you to follow his orders to death!” Zento shouted back.

But it was no use – the Dragons would not budge. They continued to blast at the swelling ranks of the Marked that now flooded the floor with dark ooze and decay. A pang caught in Zento’s throat as he took one look behind him, then rushed on ahead, searching for anyone who would heed his warning.

We have to evacuate!

Before he rounded the corner, he could hear the terrible bellowing and thrashing of the Dragons from behind.

Those mists… This place is a death trap!

Rushing into the far corridor, Zento was greeted by the Captain of the internal troops, “Master? Have the Marked broken through? Are we to engage?”

The Champion reached out and grabbed the soldier with a wild look in his eyes, “Orders have changed. We’re to make a full out retreat to the west wing. Take every man and Dragon that you find to the Cynosure chamber for a full evacuation!”

“Master!?” the captain’s face was grey and shaken. “I don’t understa–”

“Just do it!” Zento commanded, releasing the shaken soldier and drawing his weapon. He turned to face the dark corridors behind him, bracing himself for whatever evil would try to follow. Already, the silvery lines of mist were creeping at the edge of the cavern doorway.

The men gave a dubious look between themselves, questioning their leader’s unusual behavior. But not a one dared to challenge ZenToYa once his blade was in his hand.

“You heard the orders! Fall back!” the Captain echoed the command, lifting his own weapon. But time was working against them.

The Marked had moved fast with no Dragons to defend the passages and keep them at bay. The shadowy forms sprang in through the doorway, carrying the overpowering feel of dread and smell of decay. Claws and fangs and screeches filled Zento’s senses. Somewhere distantly as his blade began to whistle and slice, he could hear himself shouting for the men to keep moving, to press on to the evacuation.

The young winged Captain sprang up beside him, sword gleaming in one hand.

“What are you doing?!” Zento demanded.

“I’m not leaving you here to fight this alone, Master!” he shouted.

“Follow my orders, soldier!” the winged warrior was already feeling winded, as he spun and slashed one hand over another to drive the Marked back. Just long enough to let the others get away.

The Captain’s brows lowered, “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t do tha–”

He reeled with a choke, back arched in a painful snapping motion as Zento watched a long, slick black blade burst up through the man’s chest. With a flip of the sword, the man was flung with terrible strength and splattered against the far wall. The moment the broken body hit the ground, the silver mists rushed over it, devouring, ripping, leaving nothing behind.

Zento stumbled back against the wall, the chains of his Bhinod rattling as his hands shook. Two cold silver eyes slitted, peering at him from within the heart of the seething mists, tearing into his mind, the pressure paralyzing even his strength of will.

I can’t… move…!

The Marked sprang for him, sensing an easy target, their screeches pound and tearing pain through his mind. Zento struggled to pull up a defense, to force his arms to move, to raise his weapon… but nothing responded to his command, even as the shadows loomed over him.

The long black blade lashed again, this time shattering the leaping Marked into a spray of dust and decay. Black streaks splattered the walls as their dying screeches choked into a gurgling hiss.

What!?

A scene of madness unfolded before him. Both winged soldiers and Marked alike were ripped to pieces before Zento’s eyes. The mists claimed it all, destroying without prejudice. And in the middle of the massacre was a form twisted, yet too familiar.

LuShi..!?

Long silver hair hung ragged and wild, streaming down his back, into his face and haunted silver eyes. Blood, both red and black was splattered over his face, hands and body as the long black blade shown coldly in its unending thirst for death. His expression was contorted, caught between pleasure and disgust, his motions fluid and flawless as he tore through man after Marked without a hint of emotion. Huge, ghostly silver wings spread, half arched from his shoulders, giving him the appearance of being so much larger as the boy that Zento had once known.

There’s nothing left to him…

Nothing but the fevered and delusional light in his eyes as LuShi seemed to draw more and more power from the death that surrounded him. He had truly become the Bane… the weapon of terrible destruction, crafted through Zeromus’ Hatred.

SaRa died because of you, you monster! You took her from us! I won’t let this killing continue!

With the Dark Sygnus’ attention pulled from him, Zento found himself able to move again. Teeth gritted, the Champion lifted his weapon, a challenging shout ringing from his throat, “LUSHI! FACE ME!”

The black blade lowered as the Bane stopped to turn. The cold silver eyes focused on him, tracing Zento’s face as if searching for recognition. But like the Marked, there seemed so little there that had once been before. It was much to Zento’s surprise when the Dark Sygnus began to speak.

“Master ZenToYa…” the name was uttered as if a sudden revelation.

“I can’t let you do this, LuShi,” the Champion leveled his blade, posing in a strong, defensive stance.

“Do you really think you can stop me?” LuShi asked, so casually. So offhand. As if nothing at all was wrong in the world.

The first blow took Zento off-guard. Like a snake striking, the black blade blurred forward, slamming him back against the wall with a terrible, bone rending strength. He could feel something snap as he struck, a sharp pain piercing his side and ripping away his breath. Zento fought to keep his feet as his knees buckled… he could see the mists slowly surround him, lapping at his feet.

The Dark Sygnus took a slow step forward, voice low and dangerous, “How does it feel to have been right about me, Master ZenToYa?”

The blade crashed down on him again. This time, the Champion scrambled to throw his own weapon up, sparks flying from the chain of his Bhinod as metal struck metal. Sweat sprung out on his brow, his muscles aching with the tremendous effort it took to fend off the glittering edge of the Dark Sygnus’ sword.

“All I ever wanted was to earn… your… approval!” LuShi hissed, bringing the sword down on him again and again to accent the last three words. The final strike snapped the chain of the Bhinod, like a knife cutting through twine. “I never could… but maybe now, I’ve exceeded your expectations for me. Yes?”

Zento flattened his back against the stone, breathing heavy as the pieces of his weapon shivered in both of his hands. His green eyes narrowed, fighting the fear that threatened to drive him to his knees. Facing the Dark Sygnus alone and with the last of his honor.

“Could it have been different? Could this have been prevented?” LuShi asked with a somber tilt of his head. “Can even you can answer that?”

Then LuShi lifted his sword and drove it straight into the Champion’s chest.

Not a flicker of remorse. The pale boyish face stared down as the winged man choked, struggling for breath and staring at the blade in disbelief. Then with a flick of his wrist, the Dark Sygnus withdrew the sword, seeming to marvel at the sight of Zento’s blood on its tip.

A coldness crept over Zento’s body, numbing, washing away the pulses of pain. His face was heated by the sensation of tears. The pang of hopelessness… knowing that this time, he would be leaving his sons behind him for good. The frustration of loss… of not having the power to avenge the death of his sister. Of not being able to stop the Bane and protect the people of Nefol, the nation that he built and nourished from the ground up.

My family… my people… Zemi… I wasn’t strong enough…

The haunted silver eyes simply watched from above. Eyes that could see the world of living and dead. A creature who commanded the power to enslave the spirits and force them to do his deeds of death, violence and destruction.

“You will… take me…” Zento gasped hoarsely, wincing at the pain of trying to speak. “Just like… you took… SaRa…”

The Dark Sygnus did not make a move. The mists hovered over the floor, but did not reach to devour him, even as the pool of blood began to spread and coldness took the feeling from Zento’s body.

Finally, LuShi spoke, “I didn’t take Aunt Sara.”

“I don’t… believe you…”

“I know you don’t,” the Sygnus nodded his head slowly. “But, I didn’t take her. And I will not take you.”

The mists drew away, receding from the room as the Dark Sygnus leaned down over the Champion’s crumpled form. Carefully, somberly, LuShi placed the grips of the Bhinod in each of Zento’s numbed hands, arranging them in a way proper to honor a fallen warrior.

When he stood again, the silver eyes met green. LuShi’s voice was thick and struggling for sound. Again, he asked, “Could it have been different?”

Then, without another word, the Dark Sygnus lifted his blade and stepped over the fallen Champion’s body, heading deeper into the cave. In the direction that the escaping soldiers had fled, resuming his hunt.

“LuShi…!” Zento choked, face contorting. But his voice was too weak to carry. And soon he found himself alone in the growing darkness, the only sound his struggling, gasping breath.

Zento! You’re bleeding! You’re hurt!

-Zento…-

The voice echoed within his mind. Everything was fuzzy. Growing darker. So hard to breathe. So hard to see. So hard to try to respond.

-ZenToYa?-

He knew the sound of the voice. It was the same voice that came to him so long ago. The voice that led him to safety from the snow that claimed the rest of his family. The voice that had taken him in, given him warmth and food and shelter. That had raised him as a child, taught him as he grew, and created a Champion from a wild-spirited orphan.

Zemi…

There was the sense of shrinking worry and terrified wonder. Disbelief.

-Zento! You’re bleeding! You’re hurt!-

You are ever… the master of the obvious, Zem…

He attempted a mental chuckle. It was so difficult. So difficult to form thoughts, now.

-I’ll come! Please, just stay with me! I’ll fix everything!-

A soft, warm light began to spread, glowing between the faltering cracks of his eyelids. Though his vision was failing, Zento could feel the comforting presence of the Arweinydd. His Guide. His Patron.

Zemi… there are some things in life we cannot fix.

-I can fix this! I’ve done it before. All you have to do is agree to be…-

A struggling revulsion rose up in Zento’s chest. The tightness ached and caused him to wheeze.

Zemi, no! What have I told you before? I don’t want this.

-But, Zento! I can’t sit here and watch you die! I can bring you back… you can be a Dragon. I’ll give you a person form. Would that really be so bad? You could be with…- a pause, then -…your family.-

If he could shake his head, he would. They had discussed it over and over and over again. And every time, Zento’s answer was the same. He would not escape his death by becoming one of Zemi’s Dragons. That’s just not what he wanted to happen.

I made my choice already. I stick by that…

-What about SoYa and AsaHi?-

It was so difficult. The Dreigiau’s voice was choked with grief and frustration, the closest thing to a plead that Zento had ever heard. But no matter how hard it was, Zento knew he had to stand his ground.

I know that things are strained between you and SoYa… I know how you feel about AsaHi. But please… please, take care of my boy. He’s all that is left. And things will become much more difficult for him, too.

-I… I will. I promise you, Zento.-

Waves of light-headedness were making it harder for him to focus. His thoughts were blurring into the gentle light.

Protect… the people. Evacuate. You must… get them away from… LuShi. He’s… not going to stop… until he destroys everyone.

There was a long pause before the answer came, -I’m so sorry, Zento. I should have listened to you. I wanted so much to give Lucci a chance… but I never imagined… things would turn out this terrible. I could never imagine that he would do… something… like this…-

It’s… not your fault…

-It is my fault. You warned me but I wanted to believe…-

You wanted to believe the best in people, Zento interrupted quickly. And I hope you always do. It was your dreams… your hopes… your imagination that gave us Nefol to begin with. It still exists, in your heart, Zemi. Don’t let… Zeromus take that away.

-Zento…-

The light was reeling around him, filling his senses until it became all that he knew.

-Zento, stay with me! We can get a healer in here… just… just don’t die!-

No healer…

-Zento, please!-

No matter… what happens… you must… protect our people.

The warmth cradled him, offering comfort while seeking comfort in return. A last choked breath caught in Zento’s throat. Thoughts and sound became garbled, then insignificant, as the last sensations of pain and fear washed away from his broken body. The pulse of the living world shifted around him, the light growing brighter and brighter until there was peace… and nothing else.