[attr="class","dec2"]
AND END SCENE

Things were becoming a blur. Overhead, the Warrior could see color, surrounded by light. Vaguely, he could hear the roars and screams. He could feel the pain of a claw digging into his skin, bubbling warm blood pooling on his chest, yet it seemed so subtle. But, the worry and panic he’d felt was gone, melted away, by the welcoming peace of death. In moments, it would all be over.

Forever.

But, it wasn’t. As the gleam of shining, white teeth descended upon him, a bright light appeared. The dragon stopped, howling in pain, just short of its target. There was yelling, a man shouting rather than a beast, followed by another flash of blinding light. The weight was lifted from his chest, and on instinct, his body began to try to breathe. He inhaled sharply, coughing mad, as his nerves slowly began to reactivate in pain. The blood oozed from his chest as he gasped for life saving oxygen, and slowly, the world began coming back into focus.

A man appeared at the Warrior’s side, a hand on his bloody and busted breastplate. The knight glanced upwards, delirious, seeing a single shining, blue eye, glimmering white hair, and a familiar face that struck calm into his panicking heart.

“Oran,” the Warrior barely had time to wheeze out that name, by the gods how long it had been, before the white mage’s magic was pushed into him.

A familiar surge of energy filled his body. It was warm, not unlike a blanket on a cold day, covering every inch of his injured skin. Open wounds closed, broken bones mended -- still tender and injured, but usable once more. Despite being completely devoid of energy mere minutes before, the Warrior suddenly felt his heart beating much faster than it had with adrenaline, with focus. The magic finished it’s work, having pieced him back together, dragging him away from death’s embrace.

For a moment, all the Warrior of Light could do was stare at his friend in wonder.

However, as his gaze lingered, mind stalled, one of the dragons was making it’s move. It stomped near them, roaring, and in a moment of panic, the knight realized his sword was still where he’d left it, a few feet away. He began to scramble to his feet, a mess of dirt, blood, and armor, before pausing as he heard Oran shout. He turned his head, watching as the white mage collected all the energy he could within his palms, before unleashing the powerful, holy energy into the dragon’s maw. The dragon dropped, nothing but a heavy corpse, as the magic tore it through.

Admiring his dear friend’s astounding power would have to come later. The Warrior closed the distance between himself and his sword, ripping it free from the stone. He gripped the hilt hard, backing away from the horde that was beginning to inch toward them, until he was mere steps away from the white mage once more. Oran uttered his name, as much as a name as he had, and the Warrior’s blue eyes turned sharply towards him. The protective barrier that was shielding them expanded, providing the two more leg space to work with, while a tactic was devised.

Oran was already on top of that as well. As the mage’s gaze found the gaping hole in the ceiling, the Warrior’s eyes followed. Right. That was their best bet, for the winged beasts. However, there were still those that were flightless, and even with his more powerful attacks, the Warrior was sure that he couldn’t manage to get each of them that high in the air. He would run out of strength.

Scanning the area, his blue eyes landed on the entrance to the atrium. The flightless dragons would have to be corralled and forced out of that entrance. They would be trapped within the confines of the large, winding castle for a time. Unfortunately, that meant that the entrance would have to be destroyed. Then, the only way out of the cavern would be through the ceiling.

The Warrior nudged Oran, nodding towards the entrance, “I will corral the flightless beasts towards the entrance. You will have to expel them.”

Knowing he wouldn’t need to be more thorough with his explanation, the knight began to carry out his plan. He rushed out from beneath the protective barrier, where the eyes of hungry beasts had been watching eagerly. He was much quicker, thankfully, than any of the large, bumbling dragons that lacked flight. He identified the closest beast, grabbing its attention with a simple, quick strike of his blade as he passed. The dragon took off after him, its short, stocky legs only able to keep up so much. Other followed, and as the winged ones began to take interest, the Warrior summoned his swords of light; many more than he had before.

One set of swords whipped through the air, targeting only the winged dragons, forcing them away from those on the ground. The second set swarmed around the flightless dragons who had yet to join the chase in their potential meal, forcing them away from their stationary positions. Slowly, as the Warrior directed his magic as he moved, the group began to join towards the entrance of the atrium. As they dragons were each positioned as best as he could get them, the Warrior forced his magic swords upon them, watching the ones that were struck writhe in pain and begin to slip through the small entrance of the atrium where they’d all piled.

“Now, Oran!” the knight shouted, as he dashed out of the way of the mage’s magical might. Again, the light of a holy power filled the room, as the magic was directed towards the pile of flightless beasts. It struck, brilliant and powerful, forcing the beasts through the rocky doorway as it crumbled and collapsed behind them.

The winged dragons cried out in bloodlusting fury, ripping and tearing at the fragile, magical swords of light that had kept them distracted and chased away from their flightless brethren. However, the Warrior was as ready to tackle them as he would ever be. He simply needed to herd and force them through the gap in the ceiling, to freedom. It pained him, to have no other choice. They would likely flee the cavern and fly into the city, terrorizing innocent people in order to sate their lust for blood and hunger for flesh.

… But, what other choice did he have? Even if they ripped him to pieces, the outcome would be the same.

His strength beginning to wane, the Warrior had to continue acting before he ran out of time once more. He shoved his sword into the stone, gripping it with both hands as he said a silent prayer -- for strength, for light, for forgiveness. He took a step forward, dragging the sword through the stone behind him as it began to glow brilliantly. With a cry, he threw forward all the magic energy he could summon, his sword ripping through the stone. As the tip of the sword met the air, two large, brilliant arcs of light magic followed. They flew through the ground, rising higher and higher, corralling the flying dragons that cried out in confusion and rage. The magic met on either side of them, effectively trapping them in a circle of light.

With the prey out of their reach, and the magic beginning to close in on them, the dragons began to take their leave. One after the other they flew, higher and higher, out of the gap in the ceiling and towards the open, blue sky. Only a few remained stubborn, trying to wait out the magic as it grew closer and closer to them.

Just as the Warrior thought the stubborn beasts might.

The knight rushed forward, grabbing the white mage’s wrist with his left hand. He quickly dispelled his sword, replacing it in his right hand with his shield. He half-dragged Oran behind him, feeling the strength fade from his body with every step. Now was their only chance to escape. If they didn’t take this chance, they’d be stuck in the cavern with no easier escapes.

“Hold tight to me!” The Warrior commanded to his friend, feeling the mage’s lithe fingers tighten around his wrist. The nameless knight rushed forward, up a large, displaced stone that had fallen from the ceiling, pulling Oran along. He pushed off of the boulder with all the strength his legs had to offer, carrying the two light warriors through the fading light magic and high into the air. As they closed in on the last dragon, a large, dark blue beast beating its wings as it pushed itself skyward, the Warrior threw his shield forward. The handle of the shield caught on one of the many spikes on the dragon’s back, pulling the two warrior’s along with the dragon’s flight path as he gripped the cable for dear life, mimicking the very move he’d used to try and kill Kuja what seemed like hours earlier.

The Warrior hissed, choking down the pain in his left arm. While Oran’s magic had mended it, it was hardly in any shape to be pulling another full grown man against gravity into the sky. However, his death grip on his friend’s wrist remained strong, as they finally broke out of the cavern, and into the bright, welcoming light of the sun.

Dispelling his shield before the dragon flew any higher into the air, the Warrior and Oran plummeted a short fall to the ground. The knight hit the hard ground ungracefully, landing awkwardly in a pile of armor and groans of pain and exhaustion. He quickly rose, however, despite how his body protested, to ensure that the white mage was alright.

“Oran,” the name, his savior, quickly left his lips, “My friend, are you--.”

The world was blanking out on him again. In one moment, he saw nothing but the white hair and robes of his friend. In the next, nothing. Black. His legs gave out underneath of his weight, and the Warrior dropped to his knees, the world quickly becoming a spinning wheel of blurred colors. He felt sick. All the energy he’d expended in those last few minutes had left him without any left to spare for consciousness, it seemed.

“Alright … ?” He mumbled, his blue eyes falling shut as he felt hands on his shoulders, supporting him so that he wouldn’t fall forward onto the hard ground. A strange mixture of emotions bubbled up inside of him; gratitude, disbelief, crippling shame and failure. He tried to mouth words, but nothing left his throat. His hands blindly fisted into Oran’s soft robes as he tried to cling onto consciousness, to apologize, to thank. But, everything was slowly slipping away. He was slipping away.

As his mind and body gave into exhaustion and injury, the Warrior could just make out the soft words of his dearest friend.

"Rest now. Worry not, I will handle things from here. You will wake in warm sheets with a meal at your side."

And with that, the Warrior let go.

I refuse to believe, that I’m nothing more than a machine
I refuse to believe, that we can’t learn to see
The truth was in a dream
I will not kill
No I will – believe.