Enemy ships were approaching the coast. Nick couldn't believe it. Not that they were being so bold. This was war. They had come at an inopportune time, but it was to be expected.

But it wasn't just about that. At the head of those ships was, if he was not mistaken, the personal ship of the princess of those beasts.

What's going on here, what's changed?

He shook his head, marveling at his own stupidity.

There was only one answer to those questions.

They were looking for these two, too. Their targets.

As desperately as his Empire pursued immortality, the same went for those in Albion. Anyone would wish to obtain eternal life with all their might. And no matter what. But those monsters had arrived too late. They had the targets. On the ground, on the sand. Defeated.

They could take them before the battle between ships was over. And then the outcome of said battle.... It would still matter, of course. But it wasn't up to him. He had a mission. The most important mission. And he would accomplish it.

Nick looked down.

At his feet was that monster. The protégé of the immortal witch.

He had killed so many people. So many of his companions, and not only that, so many innocents... without even thinking about it, as was to be expected from those beasts that know no compassion or humanity.

Now he was at his feet.

Trembling, breathing hard. He was struggling to move even now. Resisting capture.

But, for all his struggling, he was only able to wiggle his toes a little.

Sinking into the sand, tracing lines.

Like this, he didn't look like a monster. A practically unstoppable force of nature. He looked, no more, no less, like a boy of his age. An ordinary boy... Like his son.

He shook his head, again.

What a stupid thing to do. He needed... Evidently, he needed a break. His head wasn't working right. Otherwise, it wouldn't have occurred to him to compare this thing to his own son.

They look like us, but they're not human, he reminded himself.

I've seen what they really are.

Nick pulled the trigger, blowing the kid's brains out, and thankfully there was no feeling of guilt.

Nor of satisfaction, but...

That was something.

The witch was dead too, that is, temporarily dead as usual. He had seen her die with his own eyes. He and the men with him. She had her knife stuck in her chest, and it had been stabbed there by her protégé.

But he didn't believe there had been a betrayal.

After all, he had taken her in his arms before attempting to take flight. If he had abandoned her, left her behind, he might have managed to escape.

So it couldn't be a betrayal.

Nick didn't understand. But he didn't need to understand.

He picked up the corpse of the witch's acolyte.

Before it could regenerate, he was going to throw it to the bottom of the sea. So that it would sink, so that it wouldn't come out of there and cease to be a problem. After all, he couldn't regenerate from having his lungs filled with water. Or it could. But not enough for it to matter. For him to be able to surface again, under his own power.

He was going to throw it away, but....

Nick didn't realize what was coming at him. He didn't see or feel anything, just a little prick, like a mosquito bite.

He died before he realized anything.

——

Abigail cut his throat.

The soldier collapsed, blood spurting from his throat like water being spit out of a thicket.

He had lifted Desmond in his arms.

So, dying, he dropped him. Desmond rolled over the sand and into the water. The tide washed over him. Desmond was suddenly dead. And she had had time to resurrect, but they had not moved from the place where they had started.

Things had gone awry with astonishing ease and speed.

Abigail lifted her head, saw why. She saw the forces aligned against her.

Too many to win, of course. The conditions for victory had been escape from the beginning. But where to escape to? Ahead of her were Empire soldiers, Empire cities, nowhere they could be safe. But, at the same time, going back wasn't a real option either.

The sea. The Empire's navy, part of it, stationed there, ready to prevent intruders from entering. And to keep in those they didn't want to let go.

The navy...

Abigail paused.

The navy was, currently, engaged in combat. Albion and Empire ships clashing.

They couldn't depend on Albion forces.

Desmond might not understand it yet, but both halves of the world were their enemy. There was no difference. Same desires, same methods. Both wolves, but different skins. Yes, that's what they were.

But still, they could use this.

As a distraction, an opportunity.

The soldiers saw their comrade fall, immediately reacted, opened fire.

Abigail did the only thing she could do. She threw herself on top of Desmond, protecting him with her body.

If the people of Albion won the fight, if they made it to the shore, fine.

But if not, she'd need Desmond and his wings. So she had to protect him. Make sure he had time to regenerate. Throwing herself into danger was not a problem. Being dead was one of the requirements for him to have the strength to fly, at this point, so they were actually lending him a hand.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

She couldn't let them hurt him.

She couldn't let it end like this.

This was as close to freedom as she'd ever been. She'd struggled and suffered for thousands of years. But now she could feel it, she could touch it with her fingertips.

She clung to it with everything she had!

I deserve to be at peace, she thought. And that's all I want.

A pause to reload the weapons. Abigail gathered air, expelled it. Even though she expelled more blood than air....

Well, first of all, she thought she'd be dead again by now.

But no, her body was still 'clinging' to life.

She felt a shudder, thinking that the normal flow had been reversed... that somehow, for some reason, Desmond was now the one giving her energy. And she was regenerating better, faster, efficiently, and that was why she hadn't died yet. But that couldn't be. Surely.

She'd just been lucky. And she wouldn't last much longer, for sure.

Abigail took a deep breath.

She trembled from head to toe, once. As if the effort of breathing had simply shaken her entire body.

There was no more shooting.

Instead, they descended and approached. Shadows rippled in the sand. The shadows of demons who wanted to snatch everything dear to her. Abigail hugged Desmond tighter, as if she could keep him from being taken too far away...from being swept away by the darkness of a final death.

There was a sound like plastic wrap being torn.

But the sound was ridiculous compared to the effect.

In front of her, a gash opened in the air. As if it had been made by an invisible sword. And out of that cut, which expanded like a beating heart, came a person.

A woman.

No, a girl to be exact. Younger even than Desmond, and those who had been Desmond's teammates.

But just because she was young, she wasn't just anyone.

She was dressed in clothes fit for battle. But the touches of gold on the shoulders, the chest, how elaborate said clothes were in general, the long cape, didn't let you forget who she was.

Charlotte, the princess of Albion. Last survivor of the royal family.

She carried a sword and it was also not ordinary. She wasn't talking about its long history, its ornamentation, none of that irrelevant nonsense.

But what she had done with it.

The battle between the two fleets continued. The victor hadn't yet been decided.

The cut in the air was a portal. A real portal, which had allowed her to pierce through the battle to instantly reach the shore.... Unbelievable. Apparently the world hadn't lost its ability to surprise her. There were still surprises waiting. Even if she could count them on the fingers of one hand.

Speaking of surprises... why? Why would she do this?

Stick her neck out like this.

"The princess!"

"Today we kill three birds with one stone."

Yes, they had been presented with a great opportunity. They couldn't miss it.

They opened fire. No matter how strong she was, she had no way of escaping it. Or so she thought.

But that girl surprised her a second time.

The princess made a long slash, in front of her. The air opened as before. Inside the cut was a violet darkness that gave no glimpse of what might be on the other side.

The cut swallowed the fired bullets. And they were spat out...

Back. Into the sea. Making each and every shot completely useless.

The enemies were also surprised. Even shocked, and they stopped firing.

Charlotte turned around quickly, made another cut. The princess grabbed Desmond by the collar of his shirt, and dragged him backwards. Towards the portal. Then she realized what she should have known all along.

Her head wasn't working right, in this state.

But it was obvious... It should have been obvious that this was the only reason she teleported to the shore, that she would risk fighting alone.

That the prize to be gained was greater than the risk.

This was not much better than her previous situation. But Abigail was a wise woman. She knew when to quit, accept the hand she was offered...and hope for the best, simply.

She resigned herself.

She passed Desmond through the portal first, the boy still unconscious.

He wasn't dead. She could see him breathing, he was just unconscious.

Then the princess came back for her.

Abigail closed her eyes and resigned herself.

——

Desmond's eyes snapped open.

He was in a place unfamiliar to him, in a suffocating darkness. But he didn't think about it once.

The only thing that went through his head was his primary impulse.

His primordial desire.

"Abigail! "he shouted with all the strength he had, in a voiceless voice.

Only later did he realize that he wasn't alone in that room. There was someone standing in the darkness, watching. A woman.

But not Abigail.

This was a different person.

It was not someone he had ever seen in person in his life, but he recognized her instantly. Of course he did.

No Albionese citizen would be unable to recognize her.

Charlotte, the princess.

Well. That was her title.

But, for all practical purposes, she was the queen. Both her father and mother had died during the last war period, after all.

There was absolutely no one above her.

So it sounded odd to say that she was a mere princess, even if that was her title.

In former times, even though he felt like shit, he would have immediately crawled out of bed to kneel before her.

Not anymore.

He was perfectly capable of moving, and kneeling.

But he wouldn't.

Charlotte was a princess, not his princess.

Desmond only bowed in front of Abigail. He'd made a promise. He wouldn't... Break was too strong a word, but he wouldn't bend it, not even in front of a member of the royal family.

He didn't know where he was.

He didn't know what had happened since the last time he died. Other than his wings had disappeared without a trace.

He needed to know.

"Your name is Desmond Orosco. Correct?"

Desmond narrowed his eyes.

Of course she knows who I am, he thought. Of course, I see.

Desmond got out of bed. They hadn't changed his clothes. They didn't need to.

Now, the stains were gone.

And even the damage to the clothes. Like Abigail. Something had changed, yes.

He'd been absolutely right about that.

But the change had begun even earlier. What happened in the middle of the capital had only been the culmination.

"Where is she?"

Charlotte looked back at him, paused for a long moment.

Desmond was trying to remain... civil.

But, with every second, his anger burned hotter and hotter. And it didn't do him any good to explode. It didn't, but how could he keep his cool when Abigail was away from him? When anything could have happened to her?

"I didn't expect you to talk to me like that."

"I don't have time or inclination for formalities. Where is she?"

Desmond hadn't asked her who, but had complained about how he'd spoken to her.

She knew who he meant, at least.

That was a good thing. He hadn't been able to count on that. Though he had preferred to think that, not go with the worst.

"Your partner," Charlotte said. "You're afraid. You try to look strong, but you're full of fear. Why?"

Desmond grimaced.

Her words were closer to the truth than he would like.

Of course he was afraid.

It was only natural.

After all, Abigail was in danger. Again. After all, everything was at risk again, when he had come so close to forging that bright future... no, 'present' he had dreamed of.

If he wasn't afraid, he wouldn't be human. But...

I am strong. I am strong. I am strong. I am strong.

Neither the fear nor his strength was pretend.

"I..."

Desmond opened his mouth to say something, then fell silent.

Why was he looking to Charlotte for answers? Abigail could give them to him. Wherever she was, however she was.

But he couldn't talk to her directly, mind to mind.

Amy could do that, but he lacked that talent. For the moment.

"I'm worried, that's all," Desmond said as carefully as he could be, when he knew practically nothing of what had happened. "We've fought together. And I love her. I"is she all right?"

He was getting better at lying. Or so he thought.

He didn't know what to think about that, really.

"That woman is fine."

Abigail's heart pounded in her chest. But he couldn't use that to confirm that she was currently alive.

Now... He didn't know what had changed, why, but now even after she was dead he could clearly hear her heart beating inside his chest.

And it wasn't coming.

Silence. If Abigail was capable of answering him, she wasn't doing it.

She wasn't looking through his eyes, she hadn't noticed. He could only wait for her to do so.

Or get the answers out to the princess directly.

He couldn't call Abigail. Ask her to come to him in spirit form. Not with the princess in front of him.

"But of course, no wonder. "She threw her head back, her hair undulating, in a way that made him unsure if it had been a natural gesture or a show of arrogance.

Considering he was talking to someone who had been born with everything, it could be both at the same time.

"I personally watched as a hole in her heart closed. How she breathed again. I suspect nothing can make her unwell. Not for long, at least."

Desmond stiffened.

Well, she'd cut the crap and gotten to the point. Maybe she'd known about Abigail all along. Maybe the princess had learned of her immortality when she'd witnessed her regenerate.

In any case, this wasn't good.

Charlotte knew who Abigail was. And they all wanted the same thing.

Albionese, Imperial dogs.

They all wanted the same thing. Abigail had told him more than once and he accepted it.

That the whole world was their enemy.

Now that she was in a situation like this, he had to do something about it. Desmond had get her out, get both to safety.

Fortunately, he had the means at his fingertips.

"What?"

Charlotte had been foolish to stay alone with him, even planning to threaten him.

Maybe she thought she was untouchable.

But...royalty she might be, she still was a person like any other.

As vulnerable as anyone else.

Desmond held his sword to her throat.

Couldn’t conquer the blue sky (2): END