[PhoenixFlare]

Since absence makes the heart grows fonder (I hope it does), let's liven things up a bit with fireworks!

*launches BLUECHEESIUM NUKE again*

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha GuardianS

Chapter Twelve—The Saint and the Devil (Part One)

Spoiler for Scene I:

[Escutcheon, Cranagan City] [March 8th, MC 081] [0700 hours]

The automatic door slid open to admit the young Enforcer and Captain of the Valor Squad, Fate Testorossa Harlaown. Long, golden hair tied neatly with a simple black ribbon and dressed smartly in official uniform, she strode into the cafeteria that was, surprisingly, already bustling with activity despite the earliness of the day. Various members of the military organization were present: the caretakers, the maintenance crews, a number of administrative clerks, some officers, and a couple of armed force groups sat on long benches and took their meals while engaging in hushed conversations or engrossed with multiple screens that flickered in front of their view. The waiters and cooks seemed overwhelmed by the number of customers they had to deal with this morning. With the restoration of the mess hall and some part of the original dormitories, members of Escutcheon who were transferred temporarily to the Ground Forces’ barracks had returned to the base, and each one of them seemed to bear something new, something that was found only through the toughest of events.

Each was a face of determination, the eyes of resolve.

Fate smiled. Though the last string of events had been unfortunate, the encouraging sight greeting her was refreshing and gave her an energy whose source came not from physical nourishment. Several people leaving the cafeteria recognized her as they passed. They stopped to salute and said, “Good morning, Captain Testarossa!” She returned the formal greeting warmly. They must had felt her cordiality, for they relaxed immediately and smiled. Fate nodded, thanked them for their hard work, and bade them goodbye before proceeding deeper into the heart of the mess hall.

She paused midway as she heard someone call her name. “Good morning, Fate-chan!” said the voice. Turning around, Fate spotted the one who had spoken. Though the table was long enough to fit at least half a dozen people on both sides, it was empty safe for a diminutive being who sat in the middle of table, four holo-screens propped around her and a tall glass of orange juice, still half-full, by the side. Reinforce Zwei was smiling at the enforcer even as her tiny fingers never left the touch-screen with which she keyed instructions and commands to the terminal.

“Good morning, Rein,” Fate replied as she moved towards her. She took a seat on the bench opposite the Unison Device. “You’re up early today. Still busy?”

Reinforce Zwei shook her head. “Not really. I’m just compiling information and reports from all our previous missions in case we need to review them again later. All the combat and observation data gathered from our encounters can be accessed without much fuss from this one later,” she said with a little pride in her voice.

Fate chuckled. “You’re very hardworking, aren’t you, Rein?”

“This is what members of the Intelligence and Support team should do, no?” she echoed.

“Indeed,” the golden-haired officer agreed with a smile. “Have you eaten?”

Reinforce Zwei nodded. She leaned sideways without moving her position and took a sip of the orange juice from the long, flexible straw. “I figured you still haven’t. Would you like to order your food first?”

“I suppose I can do that,” Fate said. “Excuse me for a little while.” She rose and disappeared into the crowd lining up near the counters. When she returned a couple of minutes later, she brought a tray of foods—hot tea (with two cubes of sugar and some milk, just like what her mother and brother liked), a bowl of cream soup, a plate filled with eggs, bacons, and sausages, and smaller platters of light snack—and placed them on the table.

“Wow, Fate-chan, you sure do eat a lot in the morning!” quipped Reinforce Zwei in between her keystrokes.

Instead of being embarrassed, Fate replied, “Breakfast is the most important meal and one should always be adequately filled in the morning for the tasks ahead.” She pushed the platters of snacks nearer to Reinforce Zwei. “And these are for you.”

The tiny Device paused in her work, eyes looking hopeful. “Are you sure, Fate-chan?”

Fate nodded, smiling. “Yes. Please, dig in. It’s my treat.”

“Thank you, Fate-chan!” Reinforce Zwei chirped happily. Despite having a small body, her physiological needs were almost the same as a grown adult.

Fate began cutting her eggs and bacons into smaller portions. As she chewed and swallowed the first bite, something came up in her mind. “Rein, are you alone here? Where are Signum and the others?”

Reinforce Zwei pulled her eyes off the screen for a moment. “What? Oh, no, they were up much earlier than I was, at about a quarter to six.”

“Really?” Fate asked, surprised. “Then, where are they now?” She knew the Wolkenritter were all early birds just as she herself was, but to be up even before the first touch of dawn was in the sky was news to her.

“Signum, Agito-chan, and Tesla-chan should be in the training field right now. They said they were going to try out some new techniques first before they come down for breakfast. It was unexpected, they met Leona-chan, Kratos-kun, and Gabriel-kun on their way, so perhaps they were planning on having a mock battle or two later,” Reinforce Zwei told the captain.

“I see. Then, what about Hayate? She shouldn’t have anything to do this morning.”

The Device nodded. “That’s true. She went instead to see several people before heading to the Ground Forces’ Headquarters.”

“Ah, for that?” Fate asked.

“Yes, for that,” Reinforce Zwei concurred. “Meister was worried, so she thought she might be able to correct some misconceptions or help sway decisions during the proceedings,” Reinforce Zwei said glumly. “You understand the relationship between the Saint Church and the Mid-childan Armed Forces, particularly the Ground Forces.”

There was no need for the Unison Device to elaborate further. It was a well-known fact, even an established history, that the Mid-childan military forces had always been wary and suspicious of their Belkan counterpart where the Saint Church was a ruling body. Years of enmity from the years of yore between Mid-childa and Belka, passed down through the generations, had never been totally forgotten. There had been too much bloodshed and carnage committed by both sides that could not simply be erased by time alone. The scar had deepened despite the best efforts of those more peace-inclined to settle the differences that had so divided them in the past, but when Mid-childa claimed its first stable roots on the world, those efforts had been all but futile.

And so, even now, a large majority of Mid-childans, especially those with governmental and executive powers, were still uneasy with the Belkans whom they perceived as biding their time, secretly and patiently, to usurp their power. The distrust persisted despite the acknowledgement of the superiority that the Belkans possessed in certain areas of magic and technology that had been freely taken and assimilated into mainstream Mid-childan cultures and the fact that there were Belkans, although severely restricted, who did walk on the soil of those places the Mid-childan declared as their own and who operated a number of enterprises and facilities even in the capital city of Cranagan, let alone outside of it. There were even marriages between the Mid-childan citizenry with those from the Belkan community, leading to mixed races that were often difficult to distinguish. The hatred long held by the ancestors of both peoples had begun eroding following the unstoppable passage of time, the old wounds starting to mend. Only the military seemed to cling tenuously to the belief of possible espionage and subterfuge. The hypocrisy, however, was elevated when the armed forces employed Belkans into their task forces, some of those especially holding positions of power.

Some, like Yagami Hayate, the Wolkenritter, and Verossa Acous. Though not explicitly a Belkan herself, Hayate was one of the rare users of Ancient Belkan magic, and so her natural tendency reflected that of her native magic.

While it was commonly taken that the recruitment of Belkans into the military was a matter of practicality and appreciation of good, reliable talents, there were some speculations as to whether it was as simple a matter on the surface as it seemed. There were rumors that Mid-childa was trying to leash powerful Belkan mages and place a watchful eye on their progress, fearing they might turn into a formidable force that would overturn their supremacy. Or perhaps, there were plans to suppress the supposed rebellion planned by the Belkans by making their mightiest mages unfalteringly loyal to the Mid-childan government. Or perhaps there was no ill and hidden intention and it was simply the goodwill of the ruling power to recognize those whose abilities would best serve the interest of the nation.

Either way, the deep-seated suspicion between the two factions had never vanished entirely, just simmering below the surface. One wrong move, and the entire boiling content might spill over …

“Ah, so that’s what happened …” Fate said silently, deep in her own contemplation. “Everyone’s working so hard these days. Onii-chan and Yuuno-kun left for the Main Headquarters two days ago, leaving Vice-Captain Lowran to oversee matters here. Onii-chan seemed really serious and didn’t say much to me before he departed. Shario and her team are still working on the communications network and currently making good progress. Shamal-san is handling the infirmary with the help from Kratos. Acous is trying to crack Provost Zakharov’s files. Mariel-san and Oji-chan left yesterday to Laboratory 79 to place all the prepared equipment and Nanoha went with them to work out the area to our tactical advantage and deployment of defenses. And now Leona is training together with Signum and the rest …”

Then she gently placed her cutlery down and smiled somewhat bitterly. “If Teana were up and about, I’m sure she’d be trying as hard as the others. Even you are doing all you can to help out, Rein-chan. And I … I am just … sitting here, doing nothing …”

There was a long, deep silence before Reinforce Zwei said, “You know that’s a lie, Fate-chan.”

“Eh?” Fate started, unsure if she had heard correctly.

“You know what you just said isn’t true,” Reinforce Zwei repeated, her sky-blue eyes sparkling in understanding. “Everyone’s working really hard and that includes you, too, Fate-chan.”

“No, I haven’t been doing much—”

“Then what were all the night-time trainings for?” the tiny Device cut across smoothly. “What was the all time spent, sometimes past midnight into the wee hours of the morning, trying out the new system installed into Bardiche? It may just be routine training to you, but putting yourself in increasingly higher gravity field and moving at great speeds is hardly normal. And that new form … you placed a lot of strain on yourself, didn’t you? And still you have time to check up on how others are doing. I wouldn’t call that not a hard work. In fact, you’re putting in as much effort as everyone else, if not more.”

“So … you did notice, I guess?” Fate said abashedly.

Reinforce Zwei smiled mischievously. “Nope, it was not me who noticed.”

“Eh?” Fate was even more surprised. “Then, how did you …?”

“Although I am curious by nature, there are some things that even I cannot know immediately,” the blue-haired Device spoke. “I wouldn’t have been aware about your night-time trainings if he hadn’t told me.”

“He?”

Reinforce Zwei nodded. “Second Lieutenant Xeno-san.”

The name came as a surprise to Fate. “How did he know about my trainings?”

“Ah, but that is the enigmatic bond between a superior and her subordinate,” Reinforce Zwei said mysteriously. “He may not seem like it, but Xeno-san is actually very gentle and thoughtful. He was initially planning to do some training himself in the place where you did yours, but since his technique involves the use of something that might … distract people nearby, as he put it, he decided to wait until you were done. So, he just sat nearby, observing you. And since sometimes you pushed longer on the training, he fell asleep on the spot.” She chuckled at the last, a merry tinkle of sound.

“Is that true?” Fate said. She had not known anyone to be nearby, so engrossed was her with her own task.

“Yup!” Reinforce Zwei quipped. “I met him one early morning returning from the training place looking like a sleepyhead. When I asked, he said, ‘I had been watching a certain graceful swan dancing in the silvery moonlight late until dawn lightened the darkness.’ I didn’t ask further, but he added suddenly: ‘The swan may not be successful in her dances all the time, but she is an inspiration for me to try harder, to better myself so that I can protect those that are most important to me.’”

“Did he really say that?” Fate said, wide-eyed.

“Mm! Not a single word added or omitted!” Reinforce Zwei concurred. “He is trying his best, and so are you, Fate-chan. Nobody is here who isn’t giving their all already.”

A warm smile touched Fate’s fair maiden face. She was happy, if slightly overwhelmed, at what Xeno thought of her and what she had, albeit indirectly, caused in the lieutenant. Still, she wondered if his feeling ran far deeper than what he showed outwardly … Fate shook her head, sure that the silent, brooding man was not infatuated to her, having known of her relationship with the Grand Meister of the Saint Church. All the same, she could not help but wonder what change she could trigger in the lieutenant, so close was his history with the one whom he affectionately called Milady …

And then it became clear to her. Fate’s smile deepened; so, that was what his words meant. ‘Those that are most important to me’ … That was right. Perhaps, in the state of confusion brought forth by the unfortunate encounter between the four of them on that fateful day, he could only struggle to protect his crumbling convictions, so lost was he in the waves of uncertainty that threatened to drown him. With his link to the others, central of them all his connection to the young captain, on the verge of collapse, Xeno had been wandering the twisted maze of his wavering faith, trying to find that which was wrong but grasping none. Even when he had appeared determined to face the truth, even when Leona had perhaps tried explaining her reasoning as best she could without tearing the wound afresh, deep down inside Xeno was as a newborn in a dangerously cruel world.

Fate knew it well, for she was once in the same situation just as he was, having placed her utmost devotion to the one she once called Mother, only to have it shattered ruthlessly. The pain had been inexplicable, pain that tore away the illusion of solitude she had cocooned herself in, pain that revealed to her the reality with which she tried vehemently to deny, pain that sent her spiraling into despair and loneliness. If Nanoha had not saved her back then, perhaps she would have ended up worse …

And so, that which Xeno found out had been the same, even if the circumstance and method were different. Xeno had seen in Fate what she had witnessed in Nanoha back then, the same pillar of confidence, of optimism, of boundless energy to face the future. He had found a reason to continue on, despite the uncertainties yet to be settled, and would put forth all his strength into doing what he had been doing for so long: to protect those whom he considered his most important persons.

“Thank you, Rein-chan,” the captain said sincerely as she gently patted the Device’s head. Reinforce Zwei simply beamed in delight.

“Oh, and there’s still the training of various members of the defense force against our new foes to keep you busy,” Reinforce Zwei added, winking. “Though, with Nanoha-chan gone, you’ll probably have to take over her squads’ training in addition to your own.”

Fate nodded. “It shouldn’t be that hard. Nanoha’s specialty is aerial combat, but the squads under her should be sufficiently instructed already in most aspects before she left today. Her trainees would probably have had better experience than mine.” Just as she was about to continue with her breakfast, a holo-screen suddenly popped up to Reinforce Zwei’s left. The image showed a large number of people congregated outside an official-looking building, with armed personnel guarding the entrance. “This is …”

“Ah, the news we’ve been waiting for!” Reinforce Zwei said in recognition. “Apparently, they’re moving faster than we thought.”

The two sat in silence as the correspondent, a woman in her thirties clad in a gray blazer and a matching skirt, spoke into a microphone she held in front of her. “Good morning, everyone. This is Lisa Baltier from Mid-childa News Network. We are now gathered in front of the private institution Blackburne Ltd., one of the leading energy utilization and research companies in Mid-childa and presently in employment by the Central Laboratories, that has received a sudden and unexpected increase in its security measures. Because of the confidentiality of its research, there have always been various mechanisms in place around the premise itself for its protection.”

The camera panned slightly, revealing the long trail of military forces marching along. Lisa continued, “However, the fact that it even draws a large contingent of the governmental military, the Ground Forces’ units led by none other than Major Nakajima Genya, is rousing the curiosity of the public. What is so important in the institution that it would require such a huge army to protect it? At present, the Major is unavailable for comment, but in the lead battalion could be seen the new Lieutenant-General, the thrice publicly-acclaimed veteran of war Leonidas von Khrull. He has reassured the public that this is nothing to panic about and that the military is merely moving in to protect the citizens in case the experiment with the high-energy object inside goes awry. There are some skeptics about the entire procedure, but …”

Spoiler for Scene II:

[Unknown Location] [March 8th, MC 081] [0800 hours]

“… and that ends the report for today. This is Lisa Baltier, reporting from Cranagan City.”

The large display flickered and the newsfeed was terminated. Replacing it were multiple screens showing various data, a segment of construct that seemed to be in the process of optimization, and the images of several flashing objects the size of small gems with readings that fluctuated randomly. A gaunt man, close in age to a septuagenarian, sat in front of the supercomputer, his tired eyes red and hollow. Sweat clung to his wrinkled face despite the coolness of the dark room. His wizened lips were curved in an almost perpetual expression of displeasure as he ran a thin hand over his sparsely-haired head, the few silvery strands left drooping feebly. The top of the man’s head was already fully bald, and the hairline was receding quickly as time passed. Dressed in a dirty white overcoat, he seemed exhausted, cheerless, and …

Fearful?

“I see,” said a voice behind him. “Was that what you wanted to show us?”

“Yes, yes …” the aged man replied impatiently, then sighed. Why would these stupid buffoons keep repeating the same thing all over again? Of course that was what he wanted to show them! Or he would not have called them here otherwise. Slowly, he turned on his swiveling chair to regard to speaker.

Auburn hair the color of autumn’s fire framed a lean, young face possessing a hawk-like appearance, with ruby eyes and grim lips. His musculature was impressive, but even more astounding was his bearing—he seemed to radiate a strong, commanding presence, and his deep, penetrating eyes reflected the qualities of a wise leader. Beside him stood another man no less remarkable in physique and demeanor, just slightly leaner and more tanned, but taller than the first with a crown of dark hair. He would have been even more dominating should his right arm still been whole.

The Master of the Sword, Grandia Estrediel Paladien, and the Baron of the Mace, Trystahn Reynarth, the latter no longer possessing the honorary title of the Viscount of the Shield after the incident in the wastelands of Sector 2.

Two members of the Astral Templars, honored warriors whose power manifested in the control of the natural energies of the world, trained rigorously in the art of countering conventional magicks through the use of their specialized equipment, the Titans.

Two of the original quintet, all of whom but were fools and puppets to—

You would advise them to do as was planned, no? That everything would be carried out for the ultimate goal … for that wish of yours …

The voice in his head came unbidden, the seductive, vivacious tone of his inner angel who had kept him safe from harm’s way many, many times. He had always trusted this voice ever since he came here, the mere presence of which soothed his quavering heart and relieved his confused mind. Such was the power of one who was his guardian, one who would always guide him through the best path.

But, lately, the angel had seemed so impetuous, so eager to accomplish things that he wondered if it was not a reckless move …

“It is clearly a hoax,” Trystahn said, waving his good arm. “For the average people, yes, such a move would no doubt deter would-be intruders by a large margin. But, it’s also likelier to be an easily conceivable, perhaps even believable, ruse made to lure us to the other location that will indubitably be well-prepared in advance for our coming. We are not that foolish to believe that the other laboratory in the Gavana Falls would be less defended than the one in the capital itself.”

Grandia nodded. “I think Trystahn’s right. I am rather certain myself that a larger and better armed force would be waiting for us at the Gavana Falls. My suspicion is that the main defending force would include most of the members of this Escutcheon that have been constantly dogging our trail and interfering with our progress. It’d be folly to try the laboratory in Gavana Falls, and I believe we’ll be better off if …”

But, the rest of Grandia’s words were drowned in the whispers that entered his mind again. They are doubting your words, my friend, undermining your trustworthiness. You, who have sacrificed so much, with more on your shoulders than what they could have imagined in their lifetime …

Yes, such insignificant insects trying to despoil my plans … The man cleared his throat, cutting Grandia’s proposition short. “I do not believe it is up to any of you to decide what’s best,” he said in a raspy, but exceptionally firm, voice. Gone was the lethargy that had surrounded him—the Templars suddenly found themselves staring at a stronger person whose eyes twinkled with determination and whose straightened posture now asserted superiority over the situation.

“But—” Trystahn tried interrupting.

A raised hand silenced him. “It may be folly to charge into Laboratory 55 in the Gavana Falls, but charge into it you will.”

“Why?” asked Grandia between clenched teeth. He could not believe that this old man would suggest this insanity.

“That is not up for discussion!” the elder snapped. “You will do what is commanded if you want the outcome to be favorable for all of us. The Jewel housed in this laboratory is far more important than that in the capital’s private institution. Of course, there is that possibility you suggested of a stronger force waiting for ambush, but you would still take on the mission, won’t you?” His lips broke into a sneer. “Oh, the wonderful thing called loyalty, passion. Perhaps even love. It drives people to greater lengths than what is feasible, grant power that is impossible to fathom, risk things beyond the necessary. It nurtures and destroys, that is what is.”

“Save us the rhetoric, old man,” Trystahn said coldly. “We may be subservient, but we are no fools. You as well as we know what powers these artifacts possess and for what intention they are gathered. Wherever the Jewels are, we will take them back, no matter what. It does not explain why the Jewel in the Gavana Falls is more important.”

The elder’s eyes twinkled. “Because it is the final key.”

Both Templars narrowed their eyes. “What do you mean?” Trystahn asked.

Cackling, the old man turned around without answering. “Curious, aren’t we? But, there is no need for you to know other than just doing what you are commanded to.” His wrinkled fingers danced across the touch-screen with deft precision. “As of now, those fools would probably be preparing countermeasures in the laboratory and trying to prevent any possible external interference. It doesn’t matter, however, since it was I who designed for the most part how the security system for these Lost Logia works. There might be a tweak here or a change there, but they won’t be able to foil my effort in any case. It’ll be easy to break through with my help and retrieve the Jewel without much hassle.” Then, he turned his head slightly and glanced at the duo viciously. “Unless, of course, you die because of your own incompetence, of which there’s no hope to realize that little silly dream of yours anymore, is there?” He cackled again.

For the old man’s reverberating laughter ringing loudly in the closed room, silence came as a heavy, velvety shroud in the room for both Templars. Neither said anything for a long time. It would have been easy, so very easy, if either Grandia or Trystahn decided then and there to break the fragile-looking man before them. A punch would have shattered his thin frame as if he were glass. But, no, they could not do that to him. At least, not right now. The old man was imperative in their quest, for he was the key to the resurrection of the Princess. That was why, even if they felt so enraged they could explode, they would be patient. They would bear all humiliation, all pain, just so to fulfill their one wish.

The wish for the Princess’s return.

Grandia tightened the grips of his hands so hard his fingers dug to the bones. “Very well …” he said in a deathly quiet voice. “… If that is what it takes, then we will do it. Now, excuse us …” His expression dark and inscrutable, he turned to leave the chamber.

Ah, yes, but forget not the new commands, the new retinues … They would be the means our victory!

“Wait,” the elderly man said suddenly.

Grandia turned just slightly and glared at him. “Is there more?”

The wizened man raised his hand and showed him four metallic objects. “Your new spellcards. Archmagus Exoradeon prepared them specially just for this mission.”

Grandia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as Trystahn moved to retrieve them. Without a word, the tanned Templar pocketed them in a pack on his belt. “I remember the functions on the first three. One of them is for teleportation and the other two are more summoning,” Grandia said. “What’s the fourth for?”

The man guffawed loudly, spewing spittles in his mirth. “Sharp as always, aren’t you, Grandia boy? You’ve always been the wary sort, very distrustful of your allies.”

Grandia did not react to the taunt. “If you’re not telling, then I would just keep it around and not use it at all.”

“Oh, but use it you will, boy,” the old man continued with a sinister grin. “For they would be your wings of victory!” Then, he laughed harder, slamming his fist repeatedly on the front of the console.

Wings? What does he—? Both Templars’ eyes widened suddenly. “You don’t mean …?” Trystahn gasped in disbelief.

“I mean exactly that!” the old man replied spitefully, his eyes seemingly glowing with a blood-red hue. “The steel angels of war are at your call! The Heralds will sing your enemy’s destruction as you wade through the river of their blood!”

“No!” Grandia said vehemently. “I will not summon these cold machines that know nothing but slaughter! I will not!”

“Then we’ll just have to see how long your resolve will last, Grandia of the Sword,” cackled the aged man. He pointed an accusatory finger at the duo, his eyes gleaming malevolently. “For when odds are stacked impossible against you, they will be your only salvation! May you find redemption from the sins you’ll bear, o’ Templars!”

The mad laughter of the lone man reverberated in the dark hall as the Templars stormed out of the room, filled with insurmountable anger and disgust at the twist the Magi had planned for them.

* * * * *

He stopped laughing after some time, the loneliness of the chamber creeping up on him. It was pointless. Even spiting someone was much better than suffering the encroaching solitude, than feeling the space suffocating him in silence.

He did not know when, but the misery had slowly begun to twist him and warp his personality such that he viewed everything with disgust, as inferior existences compared to his. It was never in his nature to hate or despise anyone, not even those Templars he barely knew, but he needed the life, the verve, to empower him, to feel that he was not losing himself to the clutch of despair. And this seemed to be the only way to regain that which he had lost.

Still, it failed him. And he hated himself for it.

Something tickled at the back of his mind, something that told him that this was all wrong. But, even as he grasped for the answer, it vanished, leaving him drained, confused. It had occurred for a long time now, each interval random, but the impression left behind was always the same—that there was something very important he had forgotten, only never remembered. He tried very hard to recall what it was, but it always ended up with him having a throbbing headache and a muted disenchantment. It was happening again, and he was too exhausted to deal with it. He closed his tired eyes. Immediately, in the near darkness and oppressive silence, a deep sadness welled up inside him, the loneliness smothering him. A shiny drop of fluid fled the confines of his eyes and streamed down his cheek. Then another, and another …

He felt so small, so useless. In this dark hall that was his alone, there was no one else to share his feelings, his loneliness with. The various machineries in the room were all but lifeless, inanimate. The contact with another being, another person was all it would take to dispel the feeling of unease and guilt he was carrying. Ah, yes, the guilt … there was nothing heavier on his heart than that which he had done, even if it was meant to save someone else, someone whom he now realized to have loved so deeply his heart ached for that one touch of salvation …

Are you lonely?

Yes. The laughter that blossomed immediately in his mind, of pure jubilation and mirth, of happiness and bliss, shared between three of whom were family, wrenched at his heart. How he wished everything had never happened, that he had paid more attention to the people around him. Now, everything was already too late …

No, there is still hope.

Really? Was it not too late to return to that life that he once had? To change that which he had inadvertently caused with his curious zeal? If there was a way, then please, let it be revealed to him whose guilty heart suffered in silence …

There was a bright flicker of light, and there, seated serenely with the woman with the warmest smile he had ever seen. And the child, so cherubic and perfect … He reached a longing hand towards them, the unparalleled picture of perfection. Yet, try as he might, his hand never seemed to come close for contact …

No! I will not give up!

There is nothing to worry about. All will be given in due time … you need but follow the voice of your heart to reach that which is your dream … your hope … your desire …

Is that so? Then, I will trust you to guide me, o’ my angel …

Indeed. I would not betray you, unlike the unbelievers. I would not abandon you, unlike the wary. I would always be here with you, helping you. My wings will protect you, my light will illuminate the dark path …

I cannot thank you enough … But, I’m feeling so tired … so powerless …

Then, sleep, o’ my child, and be empowered by the sweet dreams that come. I will be here, watching over you …

Thank you …

And the aged man, still seated upon his chair, fell into a deep slumber, his head falling to one side of his shoulder, his breathing shallow. There was a peaceful expression on his lined face, a feeling of content that was found when one met the deepest desire of his heart …

In one lightless corner of the room, a shadow detached itself from the rest. Slowly, silently, it coalesced into a tall form, which then began to gain a more defined shape, more feminine features. Long, midnight hair tumbled down a beautiful, pale visage. Dark, onyx eyes that ate away all lights glittered in the dimness of the room. Thin, tapered fingers that ended in elongated black nails flexed slowly. Garbed all in black, she appeared as mysterious as she was frightening.

Sleep, and be united with your family in your slumber. I will keep you safe from all harms …

Her blood-red lips twisted in a cruel curve.

Yes, sleep, o’ Provost Zakharov, in the dreams that I, Barissia Nethremus, Magus of Desecration, weave for your troubled heart. And when you are satiated, you will continue to be my puppet …