“You made me… your weapon! You made me kill these people!”

The Vision Stone was cracked, a sliced that cut straight through the clear, flat face in the place where the rift had once reflected in blue light. The soft glow of the crystal spluttered, broken, weakening from its cankerous wound. No longer would it protect these lands… lands now marred by the darkness and the mists. Its power was waning. The Stone was covered in blood.

And the last gift it gave was the deepest, most terrible curse upon the one that had struck it.

Luccious lifted the two broken bodies in his arms, hugging them to his chest one at a time. But both were limp and lifeless. Their spirits had been ripped from their flesh, trapped within the mists, just as his own sanity had become.

They were dead. NaDo. Maru.

He couldn’t remember who else. Everything had happened in a terrible blur of raging power and destruction. He knew people were dead, though. And they were dead because of him.

As the Stone’s last light gave his mind a momentary clarity, the Sygnus collapsed next to the two unmoving bodies. He sobbed and wailed brokenly, like a child, his fingers tearing at the blood-stained grass.

Luccious had become the very Bane that the people had fearfully foretold. Now the people that he had love most were dead. And he was alone.

-Why do you cry, my son?- the hissing voice crept into his mind. -They have given their lives to give you power… to a bigger and better plan. To our domination.-

He lifted his tear-streaked face as the darkness began to take shape and grow solid. What appeared there was not person nor Arweinydd. Whatever had been Zerom once, so long ago, was consumed by the Chaos and the Hatred. And now, that Hatred had become a part of Luccious, too.

“You made me… your weapon! You made me kill these people!” Luccious’ voice started out low, growing in strength.

-I gave you the power to reach for your own destiny. I did not control what you did with it,- the voice told him smoothly.

“You knew this would happen! You knew what it would drive me to do!” he struggled to his feet, fists balling. “I would never have hurt them! I would–”

-Why? Because you loved them?- Zeromus sneered. -Do you really think they had any love for you? Do you really think that a monster like you can be loved? Do you really fool yourself to believe that you deserve their love?-

A low laughter rang in his ears. Tears streamed, hot and furious down Luccious’ face.

-Love is an illusion for the weak, Luccious. And we… are not the weak,- the voice goaded him smugly.

“No…” Luccious answered, suddenly finding the cold grip of the black blade in his palm. “We’re not the weak.”

Silver eyes flashed with a terrible wrath as the Sygnus leapt forward, lunging towards the gloating figure. The slender blade struck, hissing and crackling with fury, ripping down through the darkness, splattering black ooze and hissing shadows across the silent glade.

Luccious’ cry of redemption mingled with Zeromus’ screech of shock and pain, echoing from the darkness of the overhanging sky.

Then with one final flicker, the blue light of the Vision Stone faded upon the old world.

{——————}

Zemi had walked for what felt like an eternity. His form that had once been tireless, flawless and so formidable now flickered and faltered. He was growing weaker — he could feel it in every inch of his being.

His power was linked to the Nefolian world, a world that was now far, far away. He was bound to the energy of that living planet. Together, he and that world had developed and grown strong. He had become a Patron, a defender of the creatures of that land.

But that was all gone now.

This strange, new world, felt nothing at all like his home planet. There was life and beauty there. Peace and silence. But the connection that had once strengthened him was gone. And his people… they were gone, too.

The Dreigiau carried the limp form of SoYa in his arms. Something had happened when they stepped through the rift. Something unexpected and awful. There had been a cracking sound and a bright light — when Zemi was finally able to gather his awareness, he had found himself there, alone, with only SoYa at his side.

But SoYa wasn’t the same. He hadn’t stirred or shown signs of waking, but Zemi could feel it. The wings that had once graced the Athrylith’s shoulders were gone. Simply gone, ripped away, as if he had never been Awakened at all. And the feeling around SoYa was distant, like a stranger. As if Zemi had never been his Patron… as if there had not been a connection between them all this time.

In the drifting patterns of the Athrylith’s dreams, Zemi could sense the same thing. Memories had dulled and vanished, a whole lifetime of experiences unmade and torn from SoYa’s mind. It was the last strike of the Sygnus — if he could not destroy the Nefolians in body, he would erase their knowledge and destroy the connection to their Patron from the inside out.

And if this had happened to one as strong of mind as SoYa, there was little doubt that the rest of the people, wherever they had ended up, were in the same state or worse. There would be no finding them all… no reestablishing things. Not easily. Not now.

Perhaps… it’s better this way.

It was a terrible, anguished thought. Still, as Zemi peered down into SoYa’s sleeping face, he couldn’t help but wonder if the people of the Inner Realms would have been better off without the intrusion of Arweinydd.

All we have caused is their death and destruction. Now they have no home. They have no past. They, too, are alone in the loss of their identity.

A long, ragged breath escaped Zemi’s lips.

I made a promise to watch over Zento’s son and keep him safe. I will fill that promise…

He stopped walking, having reached his destination.

Maybe the only way I can keep them safe is by not being here at all.

Slumping to his knees, the Dreigiau gathered them both into his arms.

Zemi’s teal eyes lowered, falling on the tiny curled up form in the grass. AsaHi. She, too, was without wings. But still radiant. Still beautiful. Just the same as the first day he saw her. Something in his heart ached as he knelt down, placing SoYa at her side.

Slumping to his knees, the Dreigiau gathered them both into his arms. They had been his people… his children to guide. And he had failed them.

I will make sure… if you have nothing else left, that you will have each other.

Though he felt himself weakening, the Arweinydd reached around them, gathering the last of his power. And within that embrace, he wove a new knowledge for them. The distant memories of each other. The love that they had shared. And the courage they possessed to stand by one another, no matter the dangers they had faced.

Zemi’s form began to flicker and shimmer, tiny particles of light drifting upon the alien winds. When he no longer had the strength to hold him, he laid them down in the grass, side by side. And with a tired and sorrowful breath, the Dreigiau faded away.

{————–}

He opened his eyes. The world blurred around, vision swimming. His mind was cloudy, waking very slowly. He pushed himself up on his hands, feeling the cool blades of grass under his fingers. Then he peered around.

He wasn’t sure where he was or how he had gotten there. But it didn’t seem like a bad place to wake up. Everything was quiet. It smelled of earth and flowers and trees. He heard the buzzing of busy insects as they made their rounds over the fern-like bushes. Somewhere not too far away he could hear the sound of running water.

A water splash across the face sure did sound like a good idea.

As he rolled over to look around, he noticed he was not alone. A girl was curled up in the grass beside him. He was surprised at his feeling of surprise regarding this fact — was it odd to find a girl sleeping in the grass? Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. Afterall, everything felt somewhat odd about this situation.

He leaned over her to get a better look at her face. It was obscured by waves of pale white hair. Specks of grass and flower petals dotted the soft strands making her feel like something that belonged there. Something of the natural world.

He reached his hand forward to pull her hair from her face and paused upon the sight of his fingertips. They were a dark color, almost as if they were dirty. But he knew they were not. The color didn’t burn or hurt. He sniffed it and it didn’t smell funny. But there it was, on his hands. So strange. Just like everything else.

While he had been inspecting his fingers, the girl began to stir. She slowly rolled over, bright green eyes fluttering open. It took her a moment until her vision focused, peering up at his face.

He had expected her to respond in surprise — afterall, he would have been surprised if someone had been staring down on him when he had wakened. But she didn’t. Instead, she gave a wide, beautiful smile.

“SoYa?” she asked.

“SoYa?” she asked.

He blinked once. Then realized that was his name. And that he knew her name, too.

“AsaHi?” he asked in a similar tone.

“Hi..?” she answered, looking a little shy.

“Hi?” he responded, brushing the stray curly hair from his eyes.

AsaHi reached up and stroked her fingers through his hair, moving along with his own fingers. Then she pushed herself to sit up next to him.

The sound of voices carried along the breeze. There were other people here, somewhere. SoYa could feel them. Sense them. He didn’t know how he knew. He just did. The feeling of slight confusion and wonderment. People waking up, just as they had.

“There’s other people here,” AsaHi gave him a quizzical look.

“I know,” he told her and nodded.

Then he got to his feet and helped her up. As he began to walk forward, he sensed something funny. Looking down, he could see AsaHi’s little hand wrapped around his own.

And something about that felt just right.

{——-}

The sound of the ocean was more mournful now, though Oren couldn’t understand why. The darkness had lifted from the forests, but even so, had left only a pale shadow of what the land had once been. As he rode along, even Drok seemed restless, ears twitching in nervous agitation.

Something really bad has happened here… I just wish I knew what it was.

He knew it had to do with the strange white haired people. Even after the KoGuRai creature had been slain, they were always in a huge bustle to get one place or another. But no one had stopped and taken the time to explain what the trouble was.

Just like the people of the Inner Realms. Thinking they’re so much above the rest of us because of their wings.

The people of the Spiral had also been on the prowl, heading further south than Oren had ever seen. The golden haired men were never one for conversation, though, and didn’t offer any information either. They just seemed to be searching and searching…

Whatever they were looking for, they don’t seem to be finding it.

Drok suddenly lurched to a stop, nearly sending Oren sprawling over his neck.

“Hey! Hey! What do you call that!” he complained, punking the creature on the shoulder lightly. “You need to warn me before you do something like that!”

Drok simply shook his head all the more and snorted. Squinting up the steep incline towards the forest, Oren could make out a glimmer of something white along the stones. Swinging down from his mount, he frowned and began to make his way towards it.

“You stay here,” he said back over his shoulder. “Not like you’d move anywhere anyway. Lazy thing.”

The closer Oren climbed, the more his astonishment rose. Soon his eyes could pick out the features of a person. A white-haired woman. Someone he knew all too well.

“Well, now. If this isn’t déjà vu,” he murmured under his breath.

Kneeling down, he checked her over for any sign of injury. She was still breathing. She didn’t seem hurt. But the wings that she once had… they were missing. Simply gone.

Something strange is definitely going on here.

Something strange is definitely going on here.

Oren pursed his lips and gathered her into his arms. Carefully he picked his way back down the incline towards where Drok was waiting.

The creature flicked its ears forward with an expression of smug expectation.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re good,” Oren huffed, securing the woman on Drok’s back. “Let’s get her back to the camp and see if we can figure out what happened.”

Camp wasn’t too far away. It was mostly a cave they had found in the side of the stone near the ocean. It was somewhat damp and the fire could be stubborn at times, but there wasn’t much more one could expect when it was high tide.

Oren covered her in a hide blanket, did his best to make her comfortable among the saddle bags and put some fish on the fire to fry. He hoped that the smell of food would bring her around — she didn’t look like she had eaten in far too long.

Eventually, hunger must have taken its toll, because she did start to stir. He leaned forward to watch her, a big grin spread across his face.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he teased.

Expecting a disgruntled jab in return, he braced himself. But she merely blinked at him in confusion.

“JouKa?” gave her a concerned look.

She didn’t respond to her name.

“JouKa?” he asked again.

This time, she turned to him and asked slowly, “Do ya mean me?”

“Yeah,” Oren frowned. “That’s your name. JouKa. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh. Yes… of course,” she answered. “JouKa.”

Drok gave a concerned snuff from the far corner of the room.

“’Oo are you?” JouKa asked with a moment of hesitation.

He blinked, then gave a wide joking grin to cover his own worry, “I’m Oren. I’m the love of your life!”

Certainly THAT will get a reaction!

Her mouth opened wide. But instead of the customary shout, she mused in wonderment, “Really?”

Oren fell over backwards in shock, nearly upsetting the frying fish. When he uprighted himself, he waved his hands around, “Okay! Now I KNOW you’re really sick!”

JouKa looked down at herself, clutching the hide blanket tighter about her shoulders. “I… don’t think I’m sick.”

“Then, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she told him.

“How did you get here?”

“I don’t know.”

“What happened? Was there a fight?”

“I don’t know!” this time tears began to shimmer in her eyes.

“Whoa! Whoa! Wait… I didn’t mean it like that!” he waved his hands around.

Good job you insensitive lug!

There was a long uncomfortable silence. Then he scrubbed his fingers through his hair and slowly slid over to sit next to her.

“Look,” Oren said. “It’s okay if you don’t know.”

“It is?” she asked with a sad face.

“Yeah. It’s fine. You’ll be alright,” he promised her. “I’ll take care of you and we’ll figure this all out. Okay?”

JouKa didn’t say anything. She just nodded and leaned her head against Oren’s broad shoulder.

SCORE!

He couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face. Drok gave him a long, flat stare.

Oren cleared his throat and motioned forward, “So. Uh. I hope you like fish? How about some?”

What’s wrong with me… why do I look this way?

He woke as if from a deep, troubled sleep. There had been no dreams. Just the darkness and a lingering feeling of something terribly sad sitting heavily in his chest.

He did not recognize the room. It was draped in long deep blue curtains and tapestries. Even the bed was dressed in curtains and thick blue blankets, trimmed in burnished gold. It was certainly luxurious, he couldn’t deny that. But something felt missing. Something that caused the sadness he felt.

As he made his way into the center of the room, he saw that he was already dressed. Long blue robes fell down to his feet, perfectly tailored, of slightly shimmering cloth. They were light and comfortable, the sort of robes that he remembered wanting. But that was long ago in a time that was difficult to remember.

He stopped before the mirror that hung on the wall and turned to face the reflection there. He didn’t recognize it. His skin was darkened with a grayish hue, which didn’t give the picture of perfect health as far as he could see. His hair was unruly and long, a deep blue-sheened black, except for a streak of white that fell across his right eye. And his eyes. They were strange — deep, dark green except for a pupil of burning white.

He felt himself shiver involuntarily.

What’s wrong with me… why do I look this way?

He couldn’t remember very well. But something told him that there was something wrong with this. People didn’t normally look like that.

Or do they?

“Don’t complain. You should have seen what you looked like BEFORE we fixed that mess,” a snide voice echoed through his room.

With reflexes like lightning, he spun about. His hand reached instinctively for a weapon that did not exist. His dark eyes narrowed on the group of strangers that stood in the far doorway.

“Whoa…” a quiet female voice murmured. “Are you sure he’s not dangerous?”

“Of course he’s dangerous,” another voice answered. “Why do you think Lord Zeromus would put so much effort into bringing him back?”

“Is it true that he once served as a Marked Champion?” yet another asked.

“Hrumph,” responded the first snide voice. “Master TsuMeTai. I do apologize for their rudeness on our first meeting.”

A shape broke away from the shadows in the doorframe. He could make out white-haired man in a long, unmarked robe. A pair of glasses perched on his nose. The way he looked over the rims at everyone spoke of arrogance and disdain.

“Who are you?” he growled slightly.

“We… are your loyal and humble servants,” the man offered a wide, slick smile, spreading his hands.

“Speak for yourself, Zemus,” another grumbled from behind.

The one called Zemus turned with a direct, silencing glare. “Master TsuMeTai is the Champion of Lord Zeromus. I suggest you give him the same respect that you would our High Master. Or you might find yourself the next on the list.”

Then silence did fall, for good.

He finally spoke, “How did I get here? I can’t remember very much…”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, Master. It will come back to you in time,” was the overly cheerful answer.

TsuMe was starting to dislike the eagerness of the smiley man. In fact, it made him feel like throwing up.

“Now come, Master,” Zemus waved his hand forward, oblivious to the nausea he was causing, “You must be hungry. We have a meal prepared for you.”

The Champion followed with a sour look. But food sounded like a good idea. At least, food in a place that looked like this couldn’t be too bad.

“Master,” the girl stopped him with a slight touch on his arm. “No offense meant but, you may want to pull your hood up before leaving your quarters.”

“Huh?” he fingered his robe, finding a hood sewn onto the back of the collar.

“People here are not so used to seeing someone of your superior station and good looks,” she winked before walking out the door.

Good looks. Right. That’s not what you really meant.

He huffed and flipped the hood over his head to hide his growing scowl. Then he followed the others out through the tall doorway, looking across the great structure that stretched around them on every side. It was an ornate building of great style and beauty, traced with tapestries and etchings, runes and shifting patterns along the walls. Everywhere he looked, there was something that made him catch his breath in splendor. Though many white-haired people moved across the floor, down below the balcony he was standing upon, there was hardly a word whispered. It was as if no one dared to make a sound.

“Don’t look so surprised, Master TsuMeTai. This has all been given to you to rule over in the name of Lord Zeromus,” the smiley man motioned around them with a grand gesture. “Welcome… to the Manor of Runne.”

~Dreigiau’s End… To Be Continued…~