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year 5, quarter 3
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Cecil could only stare, horrified, at the atrocity that towered over them in a whirlwind of darkness. His pulse quickened against it, and in that moment, Cecil knew fear. He didn’t fear for himself (no, never for himself), but for the friends he had allowed to fight his battle alongside him. Rosa. He glanced to her in alarm, but she had eyes only for the hateful thing before them. She clutched at her chest, bracing herself against the wind.
Explosions rocked the shell of the abomination before them. Meteor. Twin Meteor. The same spells that had cost Tellah his life slid off the demon’s armor like rainwater. Something glinted in Golbez’ hand. The crystal.
It did nothing.
’You tread the path of darkness. That Crystal will shed no light for you. Your hands will only stain it darker still!’
But wasn’t it supposed to banish evil? Cecil’s head spun, and the winds whipped faster still. They turned and turned until they gathered at a single point. Cecil’s eyes widened, and then the magic took him.
It struck him from above, from below, from within. He felt his legs sweep out from under him as he was thrown backwards, hitting the ground hard. His ears rang, and still Zeromus’ darkness suffocated him. Rosa! His eyes snapped open, but the shadows were too thick to find her. They bore down, burning away at him until he could hardly breathe.
He pushed himself to his elbows through gritted teeth. His vision swam, but he saw another figure pressed beside him. A mountain of metal -- of darkness. He pressed himself forward, reaching desperately for its hand.
”Brother!”
Cecil jolted upright, eyes wild, arm still outstretched. He rasped for breath (Breath? Could he breathe?) and stared into the quiet around him. There were no screams -- no gasps but his own. He touched at the base of his throat and felt the hammer of his pulse.
This was not the moon.
He found himself in a simple wooden bedroom he didn’t recognize. A fire crackled dully in its hearth. Sheets were tangled around him, and he shivered, cold with sweat. Had it only been a dream? Nausea rolled through him in waves.
The door opened, and a woman walked through. She was heavy-set with a wrinkled brow and tired eyes. She stopped when she saw him, but quickly blinked away her surprise and set him with a careful smile.
”I didn’t know if you’d wake.”
For a moment, Cecil could only stare at her, bewildered. Was this her home? And how had he gotten here? Cecil shook away his doubts, his eyebrows furrowing. ”Have I been sleeping?”
”Or something close.” The woman walked past him towards the hearth. She grabbed an iron poker and shifted the logs within. ”I thought we’d lost you some three times there, but you must be made of tougher mettle.”
Cecil opened his mouth and then closed it. He didn’t know what to say.
”Herb found you on the side of the road. A knight, knocked out cold.” She cracked a log in two, showering it with embers. ”You could just about blow us over. We’d never seen anything like it.” She set the poker aside and turned to him with her hands on her hips. ”Well? Care to explain yourself?”
Knocked out cold? On the side of the road? Cecil tried to follow, but couldn’t. His head still swam with a dark miasma. ”I think you might have a better idea of what happened than I do.”
”Hmph.” The woman eyed him closely before she went to the window and opened it. A night wind brushed through, and Cecil shivered. The land outside was course and rocky. Tufts of grass straggled from hard ground, and above it Cecil caught the rise and fall of mountain peaks. His eyes traveled further to the sky, the stars, and the-
He froze, staring. ”Where’s the moon?”
”The moon?” The woman gave him a strange look before craning her neck towards the single moon hanging in the sky. ”Did you hit your head?”
There was one, but where was the second? His stomach turned with a cold panic. The red moon. The home of the Lunarians. Somehow, impossibly, it was missing. Was it Zeromus? Had his magic torn it apart?
He looked away. ”What is this?” It was hardly more than a whisper. The woman watched him carefully.
”We brought you home. Off the base of Mount Hotan.”
”Oh.” He didn’t know it. At the moment, he didn’t know anything. The very sky itself had gone vacant, and Cecil felt as though he might fall within it.
Somewhere beyond them, someone screamed.
It didn’t register at first -- that scream. He was still reeling from his panic, his confusion, and his worry. The scream echoed against his thoughts, pounding harder and harder until finally they broke through and a second instinct took him. He gasped and was on his feet in an instant, all thoughts forgotten. His legs failed to catch him, and he stumbled, knocking out a table before he managed to catch himself on the door frame. A reptilian shriek sounded from above. Cecil forced himself upright, breathing hard.
Whatever had happened to him, it could wait.
”My sword,” he said. ”Do you have it?”
”Don’t go knocking around yet! You’re not well!”
It didn’t matter. Above him, wingbeats pulsed. A child cried out. Cecil gripped the door harder before he pushed himself off it, swaying for balance. ”Stay inside,” he ordered and then he was gone.
The house was small, simple, and clean. His eyes darted from the oaken table to the pantry to the latched door. Finally, he found it -- a white glint in the darkness. His armor was scattered haphazardly in the far corner, and next to it the crystalline gleam of his sword and shield. Outside, a heavy weight pounded into the ground followed by a renewed chorus of cries. Cecil seized his sword and rushed outside. There was no time for his armor. His shield he affixed as he ran.
Chaos met him. Cecil stopped, breathing hard as he took it in. The village was a small one, but the crowds betrayed its simplicity. For a moment, visions of fire rocked him before his eyes settled on a single, terrible point. A dragon. It was a hard, glinting black with half-folded wings and fangs the size of daggers. It stretched out its neck and shrieked again in its fury. Its beady eyes caught on a young woman who gave a cry and scrambled away. It charged towards her.
”Look out!”
Cecil didn’t remember running. He didn’t remember throwing himself in front of her, but he felt the impact of the dragon’s maw slam into his shield and then he was sent flying. He slid backwards from the force, teeth grit, knees buckling as he clawed his fingers into the dirt to keep himself upright. The woman was knocked back with him. She gaped at him from the ground, knots of hair dashed across her eyes.
”Go!” Cecil hissed between his teeth as he struggled to stand. The woman nodded breathlessly and scrambled, half-crawling, away.
He shoved his sword into the ground, and used it as a staff to right himself. ”As long as I draw breath…” Cecil forced himself to his feet and readied his blade, eyes flaring on the dragon’s unblinking gaze. ”I won't let them die!”
"Of course it's a dragons. It's always a damn dragon."
Aranea sighed as the boredom as the mark was made known. She sat in the chair she had refused earlier kicking her feet up on the mayor's desk holding her head up with her fist now. Her other hand drummed the arm of the chair as she peered over at the man sitting in front of her, red faced and blubbering about attacks and needing salvation and if she was up to the task. Always the same. No matter how many beasties she fell, someone was ready to doubt her as soon as she walked in the room. She had hoped it was some bandits that needed sorted out; she hadn't been able to toy with any scum in a bit.
"If you don't think I'm able, you wouldn't have called for me," she answered pointedly glaring the man down until his stammers just blubbered into silence. "That's better," she said as the man finally stopped entirely before standing back and leaning across the desk her face a few inches from his. "Don't doubt me again or the rate will go up for a third time. Yeahp, rates doubled now since you've wasted my time. Now tell me where you last saw this thing." The man once more exclaimed explaining the financial burden the town would sustain before Aranea grabbed his wrist. "This gold watch looks like it could pay for you village twice. I'll take that," she said as she slid it off the man's wrist. Aranea pushed the man back against his chair before walking towards the door. "I'll be back for the rest of the payment, and if I here you raise taxes you'll answer to me directly.
Aranea shuddered as she exited the lodge into the cold brisk mountain air. The cold didn't help to improve her mood as she began trudging away from the village at the base of the mountain across the snowy expanse. The cold dry air reminded her too much of the day she led the battalion against the Glacian and turned the arid desert into the arctic wasteland. Aranea shook her head with a dismissive waver driving the thought for now. No point in dwelling on the past, not when there was the dragon ahead to deal with. Couldn't let herself get distracted. Distractions got people killed on the field.
She wasn't sure how long she had been walking when smaller village came into the horizon. Great, she'd ask around and see if any of them had seen a big scary dragon around. Unfortunately, the shadow that consumed her betrayed the monster's location. "Son of a bitch," she muttered as the dragon swooped over her and began descending towards the village, picking up her pace as she began to sprint hoping to save as many people as possible and kill the thing quickly.
Moving much slower than the dragon, the simple wooden buildings were already becoming an inferno as she raced into the village. "Damn it," she yelled as a beam feel in front of her almost knocking her on the head. Aranea jumped as she avoided the side of a building burst into flame. There ahead was the dragon, a nasty looking bastard all red with disgusting orange eyes that seemed infected with something or another. Worse though was some idiot standing right in front of the snapping mouth. "Oof," she sighed as she saw the people go flying thinking them both goners, but as she descended near them she was relieved to see them move
The girl had the right of it running away as Aranea slammed into the snow near her. She didn't give her a second glance instead focusing on the person in front of her hobbling to their knees a sword and shield in hand. Aranea blinked for one second as she heard their vow and gave a harsh scoff as she approached. "Might want to make sure you're still around to breathe first," she taunted walking next to the man one hand on her spear the other on her hip. "A bit on the nose with this knight in shining armor thing aren't we?" she asked with a slight frown and wrinkled nose looking him over. The dragon didn't seem to appreciate the intrusion and roared and Aranea felt the hot steamy breath hit her hard. Distractions
"Alright, pretty boy, I'll try to blind it, you just distract it, 'kay?" she asked rhetorically before backing a few steps and then running forwards launching herself in the air hoping the man was more than just someone playing out a fantasy as she aimed for the dragon's bulging eye.
Armor fell into place behind him. Dark armor landing from the sky. Relief struck him like cold water. ”Kain!” he called in relief, but that wasn't right. Even in his periphery, he caught the details -- exposed skin, silver hair, and…
She spoke. ”Might want to make sure you’re still around to breathe first.”
Cecil recoiled, blinking, then tilted his head. The woman beside him was dressed in the unmistakable armor of a dragoon with her spear angled haughtily on her cocked hip. Her? A dragoon? He smiled weakly. He would take any aid with gratitude.
”You have my thanks,” he said though he wondered vaguely as to her taunt. He wasn’t wearing his armor, and what was on the nose? He didn’t ask, and he didn’t ask as to her insult either (pretty boy?). He only nodded and raised his shield once more. He was no stranger to provoking attention.
She jumped, and Cecil marveled at her grace. Regardless of her gender, she was a dragoon. He had seen her exact form too many times to count, ingrained into years of training with his friend at his side. He smiled to himself before he shook his head and locked his gaze on their foe. This was no time for nostalgia.
The dragon sensed his weakness. There was no other prey in its sight (the woman had nearly disappeared from view), and it knew that Cecil wouldn’t last much longer. It thrust itself forward with careless abandon, claws raised and teeth snapping. Cecil raised his shield, glancing the fangs off it as he twisted to the side, jaw clenched against the blow. He was faster now. Without the weight of his armor, he moved easily and desperately, ignoring the recoil that shot from his wrist to his shoulder with a shattering force. The dragon thrashed its head to take him from the side, and Cecil hopped back, stumbling over his feet and breathing hard.
His vision swam. The woman who had cared for him was right -- he wasn’t well, and he wasn’t ready to “go knocking around.” Still, by the grace of fortune he did not have to overcome this threat alone. He had only to wait for the fateful flash of a spear, and he did not have to wait long.
It pierced its eye straight through. The dragon screamed its agony, flailing first one way then the next and succeeding only in rocking the spear deeper into its wound. Blood showered the snow in red and sickly yellow, and Cecil saw his chance. He charged forward, sword ready, and thrust his blade through its cheek, slashing sideways and slicing it open like a canvas. The dragon was enraged with pain, and in its rage, it struck him head on, his shield useless. The blow stole his breath, and he was thrown back, rolling into the snow.
He couldn’t breathe. Pain shot through his chest with every try and his vision spotted black. Helpless again. His check pressed against cold earth. His fingers tangled in ice. Once again, he heard the booming echo of Zemus. 'My hate will not be staunched until it has consumed all else! Pass into the darkness I have wrought!'
He wasn't finished. Not yet -- not with his ally beside him. He thrust himself to his elbows, biting back cries of pain. His own life didn't matter. He would see this through to the end.
Aranea felt the chilled air rush past her cheeks and rustle her hair as she went soaring into the sky. She torqued on her lance as she steadied herself into a position to drop down on the wyrm's festered eye as she watched for her opening hoping the man could do that job. Taking the first oppurtunity she saw, she lunged down as the dragon snapped at the stranger plunging her lance into the eye. Aranea stiffened her legs as the beast howled and rampaged as she bore the point deeper into the infected eye. She jumped again as the dragon reeled its head back slamming against the man as he attacked the dragon's face.
"You dumbass," she said knowing that the man was as good as dragon's food if she didn't act fast. She landed harder and faster into the other eye and the dragon roared out a flame catching more of the already burning village on fire. Aranea jumped down in between the beast and the downed man as the beast started smelling out its prey. Aranea began running forward as the dragon began charging towards them the plan already formed in her mind. As the dragon opened its maw to either devour them or reduce to ash, Aranea ran towards the chasm before showing her lance through the roof of the dragon's mouth, through the hard bone and into its brain.
Aranea twirled her lance as the dragon raged against her trying to clamp its jaw against the lance. Still the damage was done and the hot breaths that were causing her to sweat despite the cold air died down and the beast fell on its side cold as the snow it lay in. She didn't waste time staring at her accomplishment as she yanked the spear from its'd death sheath. The town was still burning and she had one wanna be hero to save. Sprinting over to him, she picked up his sword and shield before she pulled him up by the collar looking him dead in the eyes with her steely gaze, "I said distract, not get yourself killed." Still the lecture would have to wait as a burst of flame hit the local tavern causing a horrible burst of heat to graze her back. Aranea used her other arm to grab the man under his knees carrying him from the smoke and flames.
She carried him in silence until they were far enough away from the wreckage. Once she thought them safe, Aranea dropped the man unceremoniously in the snow dropping his sword and shield by his side. "Did you pick those up yourself or did someone stupid enough to let you on a battlefield in your condition give them to you," she said as she rummaged through her pocket procuring a potion. She knelt down beside the man in the snow and poured the drink into his mouth. "That should mend you enough to stop being a weight on my shoulders," she huffed standing up and crossing her arms.
"Probably a good idea to find a medic though. Lucky for you I have a bounty in the town over if anything else should want to pick a fight." She turned her to look down at him. "Get up, kid. I don't have time to babysit you," she said as she began walking back towards the town she had come from.
She needed no help in slaying the beast. She merely wrenched her spear from its wound and thrust it straight into the creature’s second eye. Kain. He couldn’t shake the comparison. He had been the most gifted of Baron’s dragoons, and she was nearly a match for him. Cecil clenched his jaw and forced himself to his knees despite the wave of pain that nearly blinded him. He had to stand beside her just as he’d have stood by Kain. He was not worth the burden.
Then the dragon charged.
Cecil’s eyes widened as the beast barreled towards him. He froze as time seemed to slow. He felt it in sharp clarity -- the dragon was his predator, and he its prey. Was this how he would die? He braced himself.
’Rosa.’
A dark figure thrust itself between them. The dragon opened its maw and then blood showered them in a heavy mist. Cecil stared. There was the spear, extended in her hand. There was the dragon, thrashing and shrieking and then growing weaker. The woman yanked it back with a hot squelch and sheathed it on her back. She stalked towards her, seized his sword and shield, and then grabbed him by the color.
She yanked him forward until their eyes were locked. ”I said distract, not get yourself killed.” She glanced behind her as the frame of what had once been a tavern cracked and crumbled in on itself. She seized his legs and hoisted him easily into her grasp.
”Agh!” Cecil fought a groan as his ribs jostled. Shame lit his cheeks in nauseous waves. He had done less than nothing. Still, his stomach shifted its unease. What else could he have done? If nothing else, his death would have distracted the beast from the villagers.
Once they’d reached the flame’s edge, dropped him into the snow. He gave a strangled cry as the cold struck him. It pierced through his damp clothes until it froze his very core. His weaponry fell beside him with a muffled thunk.
”They’re mine,” he sputtered. ”A relic of the-” He shivered. His last words were lost: ’of the Lunarians.’
She perched beside him and pulled a bottle from her pocket. Cecil barely had time to comprehend it before she’d thrust it to his mouth and the bitter taste of a potion struck his tongue. He swallowed gratefully, and the pain dull as it burned through him. It wasn’t much, but it would have him standing.
”You have my thanks,” he said. He took a steadying breath before pushing himself carefully to his feet. "I owe you my life."
She was a course woman with a rough tongue. It was jarring at first and perhaps a little crude, but he knew she meant well. He smiled faintly. ”That won’t be necessary. I can heal myself.”If he still had the magic. He shook the thought away. The potion would do for now.
She was already walking away, and Cecil hesitated before he pulled his sword and shield from the snow and started after her. ”I didn’t mean to cause you trouble,” he said. ”I lost consciousness. The dragon woke me.”
A deep chill took him. In all the excitement, he’d nearly forgotten. Above them, the sky was lit in a vast array of pin-pricked stars. He thought, perhaps, that he would see it then -- the red moon. It was as lost, leaving only a cold space behind.
Was that all that was left of him? Cecil bit his tongue. He had awoken in exactly the condition in which the dark magic had left him. If only he’d had time to heal himself. If only he’d had time to equip his-
”Armor.” Cecil stopped. ”I left behind my armor and-.” His eyes widened. ”The woman who cared for me.” He turned and stared at the crackling flames they’d left behind. Buildings flared like campfires. Some had already collapsed. Had she escaped the blaze? He shook his head and then he was running.
The dragon was dead. The dragoon had done her part. Perhaps it was a fool’s errand, but he could not stand by helplessly again. With the potion’s aid, he would do everything in his power to save those lives left behind.
Aranea shook her head as the boy proclaimed himself a healer. "Well then get to it," she shrugged with a flippant wave of her hand. "You sure need it." If he was true to his word that would be a boon for her. She wasn't exactly an apothecary even if she had a few potions in her bag. "Trust me kid, you're the least of my troubles," she said as the boy began to apologize. It was true, there was money, resources, dragons every which way you turned, and the ever present threat of Ardyn hanging in the air. One lost boy was basically a minor inconvenience at this point if even that much.
"Getting into more trouble?" she asked as the young man acknowledged he had been passed out before the dragon attack. To be fair that was all anyone she had run to of late had been getting into. Didn't anybody in this world just play it cool once in awhile? She scoffed at herself with a small smile; she was one to talk about staying out of trouble. It was her lot in life to get into and start some trouble from time to time though she supposed as she traipsed through the snow.
Aranea cocked her head to the side as the kid stated he had lost his armor. "Well that sucks," she stated nonchalantly. Unless that armor was made from with some crazy amount of magitek or something similar, Aranea would bet it was all but a heaping pile of bubbling melted metal at this point. "You're just gonna have to pick some new stuff up when you get to a big enough place." As she was about to tell him more about where they were going and then how to get somehwere live Provo or Torensten, he said something about a woman and Aranea heard the fast footfall and the crunching of snow.
Aranea turned to see him running back towards the village. She huffed as she shook her head watching him run. Yeahp, definitely the would be hero type. If he had been going back for just his armor, she probably would have left to his own devices and let him char himself up nice and good. But he had to go and mention victims and he wasn't in the best shape either despite the potion. Aranea assumed either everyone had fled or were dead by now, but she hardly thought the boy would care to listen or assume as he raced off with sword and shield in hand. Closing her eyes hoping she was imagining the stupidity for a second, Aranea made after him.
He was a spry little bastard that was for sure, and her own legs could hardly catch up. Aranea pressed the button to open up the bottom of her spear as she prepared to propel herself forward with a long jump. She pressed it again as she jumped and the force propelled her up and forward before she came spiraling down a few yards ahead of the kid. "And you said you didn't need babysat," she said with a roll of her eyes as she turned towards him near the village edge. "Just point the way, kid," she said as she waited for him to rush past her.
I had to start with him utterly failing. It is the Cecil way.
I will turn darkness into hallowed light
What had he done?
Even now he remembered his last words to her. ’Stay here.’ He hadn’t known the extent of the damage them. It hadn’t been bad advice given the circumstances -- he knew -- but that hardly changed the outcome. Had she managed to escape on her own? Had she avoided the worst of the flames? And why in the heat of battle hadn’t Cecil thought of her?
These thoughts were interrupted by a skyborne shadow and the clank of black armor.
”And you said you didn’t need babysat.” The dragoon was as ill-tempered as ever. She blocked his path with a predictably cocky air, and Cecil slowed to a stop, brow knitted together. ’Babysat?’ No, he made his own choices and accepted their consequences. Still, she only let the warning linger for a moment before she made her intentions clear. Far from stopping him, she would be standing at his side.
He nodded quickly, relief flooding him. ”Thank you.” Had she chosen to stand in his way, he would have been powerless. The implications lingered even as he ran past her and into the village’s periphery. He was still weak. In this state, what could he really do?
The village was quiet but for the crackling of flame. Cecil slowed to a stop, hand raised against the heat. What had been chaos only a quarter hour before was now desolate and dead. Those who could had long fled. Those who could not littered the street in lifeless shadow. Cecil’s stomach turned at the sight of them, but he knew that they were beyond his help. He searched instead for an opening, and he found it quickly. He took to one at a run.
Sweat beaded his neck. Not every building had caught fire, but the heat was dry. Deep into the village square, a mountain of black flesh greeted him. The dragon. It felt far smaller heaped on the ground and curled in on itself. His eyes darted to the houses here. Fire, fire, clear, and-
There. His eyes landed on a door still swung open. There were no flames, but that relief lasted only a moment. The house had half collapsed on itself. The dragon must have struck it in its fury.
He rushed inside to find the neat little house in disarray. Splinters cracked beneath his feet. Dust coated the floor, and not far away, he saw the destruction in full. The walls had caved into a kind of impassable wall. He searched desperately through the shadows until he saw it.
A human figure lay crumpled and motionless beneath it.
He was kneeling beside her in an instant -- that charitable and strong-willed woman who he owed his life. Her hair was scattered in tangles. Her arms were splayed before her in a desperate crawl. His breath caught in his throat. Only her legs were trapped. Only-
”Cura!” He felt the warmth of his holy magic stir within him and then swathe the woman in light. His heart hammered faster. ”Life!” He felt his blood drain of spirit. Still, she did not rise.
Cecil closed his eyes. Senseless. He allowed the pain of his grief for only a moment before he took to his feet again. He did not look at the dragoon.
He could have stopped this. Had he chosen to protect her instead of rushing into danger. Had he been strong enough to end the threat himself. Had he remembered and come to her aid sooner. He had no excuses.
Cecil moved silently to his equipment. It sat in a quiet heap where he had left it, and took each piece in hand -- affixing them loosely to his common clothes until he could don the better-fitting under armor beneath. ”I should be able to make it to town.” He did not know if she was listening. ”I’ll avoid any unnecessary fights.”
He turned to the dragoon once he’d finished. The light had left his eyes. He felt its hollow absence. ”I owe you my life,” he said again. ”If there is anything that I can do, do not hesitate to ask.”
