Silence and darkness.

That was all Narvari sensed around her. The void trapped her like a prison for what seemed like an eternity. Then, ever so slowly, the thick cover of darkness shattered around her, accompanied by the annoying beeping sound filtering into her unconscious mind. Her eyes were heavier than normal, and with great difficulty, they slowly fluttered open. But she quickly shut them again when the sudden bright light flooded her eyes. Everything was nothing but a blur.

“Pheera,” Narvari whispered. Her vision blurred. But in the blur, she saw those sparkling blue eyes. “Pheera.” She tried to touch Pheera’s face. Pain shot through her chest, right into her toes. She touched her chest as an image of a spear plunged inside her surfaced in her mind. She cried out, reliving the anguish.

“My dear, you need to be still.” The soothing voice lulled her. Strong arms held her back onto the bed.

“Pheera.” Narvari grabbed those arms like a drowning man would a lifeboat.

The fogginess in her mind slowly cleared as the blurry figure beside her sharpened. The blueness of the eyes transformed to forest green, and the white hair she had envisioned, appeared scarlet as red rose.

“Trixan?”

The Elder smiled warmly at her. Her eyes were red and puffy. Had she been crying?

“Welcome back, my dear.”

“Where’s Pheera?”

“My dear, you need to worry about yourself. You almost died.”

Narvari bit her lips as she mindlessly played with the bandage around her chest. A spear. That demon had stabbed her right in the heart with a spear and she had died. She was certain of it. How the hell was she alive? Several machines were fixed to her body. Was that how she was alive? Did vanquishers have technology that revived the dead? She doubted it.

They may have advanced medical technology — hell she had seen them regenerate someone’s severed limbs — but it still didn’t mean they could raise the dead. Her life had flashed before her eyes. And Pheera… the demon… Yes. It was all coming back to her. They had faced a royal demon. And Pheera was there.

Narvari quickly sat up. She groaned when the immense pain ripped through her chest. Gosh, this was going to hurt for a while. “Trixan, where is Pheera?” She searched Trixan’s calm yet sad eyes. Narvari gulped, fear crawling in her veins. “Where is she?”

“Calm down.” Trixan was too calm. “It’s not good for your health — ”

“Don’t tell me to be calm.” Narvari’s eyes stung. “I,” she whispered, “I just want to know if she’s okay. Please.”

Trixan paused thoughtfully. “She’s undergoing treatment.”

Narvari noticed how Trixan refused to say whether Pheera was alright. “Undergoing treatment for what? Will she be okay?”

Trixan remained silent. This was a yes or no question; why wasn’t Trixan saying anything?

“Trixan.”

“I hope so.”

Hope? This didn’t sound good. How serious was Pheera’s condition that Trixan had to resort to hope?

“Can I see her? Please?”

“You need to rest. Your wound — ”

“I’m fine.” Narvari clenched her jaws. The pain in her chest almost rendered her insane. But other than that she was peachy.

“Are you sure?” Trixan gazed at Narvari’s chest. “You seem to be in a lot of pain.”

“I want to see her.”

There was something strange about Trixan’s expression. Though she seemed relieved that Narvari was awake, there was an underlying shock beneath those green eyes. And fear. What exactly could have spooked Trixan like that?

----------------------------------------

Through the glass, Narvari stared in horror at the completely wrapped body in the bed. That was Pheera? Narvari gaped, pressing her face to the glass. No, that skeletal mummy couldn’t be Pheera. That was impossible. “What the hell happened to her?” Narvari glared at Trixan. “Did the demon do this?”

Calmness shrouded Trixan. However, Narvari could still tell that something troubled the Elder.

“Why are you hiding things from me, Trixan?”

Trixan’s gaze faltered, but only for a moment. “The demon didn’t do this to Pheera.”

No? Narvari narrowed her eyes. “Then what happened?” Pheera had always been a slender girl. But right now, it seemed like more than ninety percent of her body fat was gone. Even through the bandages wrapped around Pheera’s body, Narvri could tell that something had gone wrong. “Why is she like this?”

“You know I wasn’t there.”

“No. But the others must have reported to you.” Narvari balled her fist. “Trixan, what happened to Pheera?”

Trixan paused. Then she sighed. “When the demon stabbed you, Pheera lost it. She…” Another long pause.

“She what?”

“She forcefully ordered up.”

“What?” Why would Pheera do this? Everyone knew how dangerous a forceful order up was to the body. Fear gripped Narvari’s heart as it dawned on her how much damage Pheera’s body had endured. “Will she be okay?”

“I don’t know.” Trixan shook her head. “The doctors are uncertain. No one knows how anyone can survive a forceful order up. It’s different for everyone.” Trixan paused. “It could take a few days or several years. Or she could even…”

Trixan didn’t finish her sentence, but Narvari knew what it was. “She could die,” Narvari whispered. She was the one who had been stabbed by the demon. Why was Pheera the one suffering instead? She clenched her fists in a mixture of anger and sadness. “If I hadn’t got myself stabbed she wouldn’t have done this.” Tears wet her cheeks. “This is all my fault.”

“My dear.” Trixan took Narvari’s hand. “Look at me, Narvari.” Slowly she looked at Trixan. “This isn’t your fault. Pheera knew the danger of a forceful order up.”

Narvari quickly snatched her hand out of Trixan’s. “So what? It’s her fault?”

“No, my dear.” Trixan was as calm as ever. It infuriated Narvari even more. “I’m saying that Pheera knew how dangerous it was, yet she put her life on the line to protect her team. What she did saved Azmel and Yanvirrak’s life. She saved all of you.”

“Well, now she’s the one dying.”

“We don’t know that, my dear.”

“Really? You can guarantee that she’d be okay then?”

Silence.

“Yeah,” Narvari said. “That’s what I thought.” Narvari turned to leave but suddenly halted. She glared at Trixan. “You know what, Trixan, you’re right. This isn’t my fault nor is it Pheera’s fault.” Her voice quivered. “It’s your fault. You knew we weren’t equipped as a school to go after royal demons, but you sent us anyway. This isn’t on me or Pheera or anyone. This is on you. If Pheera dies, her blood will be on your hands and I will never forgive you, Trixan. Never.” Narvari stormed off, angry tears blinding her eyes.

The exhaustion didn’t set in until she retired to her room. Her entire body ached and all she wanted to do was lie down. But the thought of Pheera kept her mind awake. She stood before her mirror and gazed at the lifeless reflection that stared back at her. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a year. Her heart throbbed in agony. She touched her chest as she relived the coldness of the spear as it squeezed the life out of her. How was she still alive? She slowly took off her shirt revealing the white bandage tightly wrapped around her chest.

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She needed to see it for herself. She had to see how she had survived. She slowly unwrapped the bandage around her chest. Though she was still in pain, it felt somewhat more tolerable now. Narvari had expected to see a gaping hole in her chest. Instead, it was a smaller wound. But that wasn’t what shocked her. Her mind must be playing tricks on her because how could her wound be stitching itself back together? The regeneration was slow, but it was still at a visible rate.

Was this something the doctors had done? No, it couldn’t be. Reclamation could take months to fully take effect. Besides, that thing had pierced her heart. She had died. She knew it. What was going on? Why was she regenerating like… like…

…like a demon.

She shuddered. What was happening to her? This had never happened before. As long as she could remember, she couldn’t heal quickly like this.

She bit her lips trying to remember. No such thing had happened to her before. That wasn’t normal. Not even among vanquishers. Then she froze. The time she had gone into a coma because of the wraith lord, Pheera had been surprised that Narvari had woken up in only a week instead of months later. She also recovered faster than anyone in the school after the demons and Vessels attacked. That shoulder wound from the ninth-order demon healed easily, and she had attributed it to good medical care. Had she been wrong? What had happened to her?

All this started when that wraith lord poisoned her with demon energy. She thought her sacros had awakened because of the demon energy, but Trixan said that was impossible. So what if instead of awakening her sacros, the demon energy had done something else? What if it had turned her into a demon? Narvari staggered backward.

No, that was absurd. Ridiculous. She was not a demon. It’s the medication. Yes, that was it. It was the effect of the medication. How could she have sacred energy if she was a demon? It made no sense.

She was not a demon.

Narvari inhaled and exhaled deeply. She put her shirt back on and slumped into her bed. She just needed a good rest, and everything would return to normal.

I am not a demon.

----------------------------------------

“Come on in,” said Zemeron when the knock came. Trixan walked in. Zemeron sat up in his bed. He groaned.

Trixan took a seat. “Sorry for the delay.”

“It’s alright.” About an hour ago, Zemeron was reporting to Trixan about how their mission went when one of the doctors came to tell her that Narvari was awake. “How is she?”

“Better.” Though she was calm, Zemeron sensed that something was bothering her. “Continue with your report, my dear. You said the demon divided itself into two?”

Zemeron sighed. “Yes. One of them went after my team and I faced the other one.” He paused. “Something strange happened while I fought the demon.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our battle was intense, you know,” said Zemeron. “Even after the demon divided itself, it was still very strong. I had no choice but to summon my elevaz.”

Zemeron shut his eyes as the memories of that night flooded his mind. The overwhelming power of the demon tried to subdue him but Zemeron gathered his elema within himself, focusing on his power to withdraw his elevaz.

Just before that happened, a blinding light suddenly flooded the whole place. Zemeron shielded his eyes. Sensing the power from the light, he knew this was no ordinary light.

“Kneel.” A voice resounded throughout the building. Such a soft voice, yet pulsated with incredible power. And it sounded just like…

Pheera? That was Pheera’s voice, he was sure of it.

Zemeron adjusted his eyes to the bright light and he gaped at the shocking sight before him. The demon was actually on his knees, his face clouded in terror.

“Hey, what are you doing to me?” The demon struggled to get back to his feet. But it proved futile no matter how much he tried. “What the hell is this? Why am I kneeling?”

Zemeron stared in confusion. He tried to make sense of the situation. That was Pheera’s voice he had heard. She had said one word, ‘kneel’, and the demon was doing exactly as told. Had Pheera somehow captivated this demon? But how? She had to touch a person to captivate them and obviously, Pheera was nowhere near to do that. He narrowed his eyes. Had Pheera touched the other demon and captivated him, thereby affecting this one since they were the same? What was happening?

Or was it the light? Its white brilliance shone even brighter. It didn’t feel like ordinary light. Zemeron sensed the strong power radiating from it. This was sacred energy. This was elema. Light elema. But whose could it be? No time to waste. Zemeron’s reflexes suddenly kicked in. Now was his chance. The demon could not move. He might as well take his holy cage and capture the demon.

Right within the light elema, however, a strange black and gold portal opened out of nowhere, and through it appeared something. Or someone. Whatever it was, the light elema was too bright to see through.

An earsplitting explosion shook the entire building. Zemeron steadied himself, as the ground trembled briefly. He frowned, clutching to the wall. That explosion could only have come from an elevaz. The light elema faded and the demon collapsed to the ground.

The figure from the portal became visible. Zemeron froze upon seeing the black mask with the jaw of a skeleton on it. The figure wore a thick black overcoat and a cowboy hat. This costume. There was not a single vanquisher who didn’t know it. Even after twenty years of his death, his legend still lived on — children still dressed like him in Agon. Zemeron’s heart thumped violently. Why was a dead man standing right here?

“Hellstorm?” Zemeron gaped.

“Wait, what?” Trixan’s green eyes were even greener with shock. “What did you just say? Hellstorm appeared right there?”

“I don’t know,” Zemeron said. “He was dressed exactly like Hellstorm. But he could be an impostor. Hellstorm’s dead, right?”

Trixan’s eyes faltered.

“Right?” Zemeron asked again. Why couldn’t Trixan confirm what everyone already knew? Hellstorm was dead. The Ancient Order of Vanquishers knew it. Everyone knew it. “Trixan?”

“What was he there for? Did he come there to help?”

Why ask him something like that, as if Hellstorm was alive? What was Trixan not telling him? Zemeron's thoughts whirred at a million miles per second. This was Trixan. He had trusted her from the very moment he stepped into Draghein School and she had been there for them all this time. Maybe he had to trust her. Zemeron sighed.

“Hellstorm wasn’t there to help,” he said finally. “He captured the demon and disappeared. He helped that demon escape.”

Trixan’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible. Hellstorm would do no such thing.”

“Yes. Because he’s dead. That impostor was a demon.”

Trixan paused. “A demon?” She tilted her head. “Why do you say that, my dear?”

“The portal they used was not xuul technology,” said Zemeron. “I could sense demon energy from the portal.”

Silence followed for several seconds.

“Trixan,” said Zemeron. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, my dear.” Trixan smiled.

“Well, I’m already worried.” Zemeron folded his arms. “Is Hellstorm even dead?”

“I saw him die. So yes, he’s dead.”

Zemeron carefully studied the woman’s face. Trixan had never lied to him and he did not think she would lie about something like this. But something about this whole thing felt strange. Perhaps, he was not asking the right questions.

“Where did they bury Hellstorm?” he asked suddenly.

“Everyone knows where Hellstorm’s grave is. So do you.”

“And you saw them put his body in the grave.”

After an eternity of silence, Trixan finally said, “No.”

Zemeron raised a brow. “I’m sorry what?”

“I didn’t see his body,” Trixan clarified. “No one did.”

“What do you mean no one did? You said Hellstorm died. I mean, that’s what the history books say. That Hellstorm died in the war fighting Bezvaros and his Vessels.”

“And that’s true.” Trixan nodded. “Hellstorm was a hero. But…”

Zemeron’s heartbeat quickened. “But what?”

Trixan sighed, as if she had given up on keeping secrets. “Twenty years ago, the Vessels retrieved Bezvaros’ Crystal from the Order. No one knew how they got the crystal, but we knew we had to recover it. So the Order sent nine of us led by Hellstorm to recover the crystal. But we were too late to stop the Vessels from summoning Bezvaros.”

“Yes. You fought against Bezvaros and the Vessels,” said Zemeron, “Bezvaros killed Hellstorm but you and the others succeeded in sending the Demon King back to Bezvar. I know the story, Trixan.”

Trixan shook her head. “That’s not the whole story.”

Zemeron narrowed his eyes. “What happened then?”

“Hellstorm struck a deadly blow to Bezvaros and gravely weakened him. That was why we even succeeded in sending the Demon King back because he was too weak to resist.”

The emotions behind Trixan’s eyes said that whatever she was recalling was too painful for her. But Zemeron needed to know. He had just seen someone he thought had been dead all this while — someone he had revered since he was a child even though he had never met him.

“Before the rift to Bezvar closed, Bezvaros stabbed Hellstorm in the chest and grabbed him into Bezvar.”

“What?” Zemeron’s eyes widened.

Trixan nodded. “I saw Bezvaros kill Hellstorm but I never saw his body. No one ever did.”

“Because he was lost in Bezvar.”

“That’s right, my dear.”

Zemeron froze. “Is it possible that he survived? I mean if anyone can survive hell, it’s Hellstorm, right?”

The ambiance around Trixan was eerily calm. “That is true. But Hellstorm will never rescue demons.”

Zemeron didn’t want to say that Hellstorm had probably been turned into a demon by Bezvaros, and therefore was no longer himself. He knew what Hellstorm meant to Trixan. He couldn’t imagine how Trixan felt about this whole thing. What if Hellstorm was indeed alive and had been turned by a demon? What would that mean for Trixan? What would that mean for Draghein School? And what would that mean for the Ancient Order of Vanquishers as a whole?

“Let’s not worry about this,” said Trixan. “What’s important is that your team saved all those victims. The doctors say they’ll be fine once the demonic process is reversed. Once that happens, we’ll reunite them with their families. You did well.”

Zemeron nodded. “And my sister?”

“Pheera will be fine, Zemeron,” said Trixan. “She’s alive and that’s a good sign. But I’ll do everything I can to get her back. I promise.”

For now, that was all he could hope for. His sister had forcefully ordered up to gain her light elema. It was a miracle she was still alive right now after all that damage to her body. Zemeron exhaled heavily. He had to have faith that Pheera would be fine. That was all he could do right now. Have faith.

“I put you all in danger, Zemeron,” Trixan muttered.

Zemeron raised a brow. “What are you talking about? We were doing our job.”

“A job I knew we weren’t up for,” Trixan countered firmly. “I knew there was a rise in royal demon activity and yet instead of putting my pride aside and appealing for transfers from the other schools, I arrogantly sent junior vanquishers into the front lines. Narvari almost died, and now Pheera — ”

“Will be fine,” said Zemeron. “You said so yourself, right?”

“Yes.” Trixan nodded. “Forgive me.” She sighed. Her eyes were full of exhaustion. Had she even slept? “Until the Twelve Schools figure out why royal demon activity is rising,” said Trixan, “I have decided to outsource our jurisdiction to Rahalan School.”

“But Trixan — ”

“No buts, my dear. Arequil has already agreed to help.”

“The school is going to lose a lot of money.”

“It’s nothing as long as I don’t lose any vanquisher.”

“It’s our job.”

“Yes. But junior vanquishers have no business fighting royal demons.” She stood up. “Rest up.”

As she walked to the door, Zemeron called Trixan and she turned around. “You haven’t told Rhodine about Edicles, have you?” asked Zemeron.

“No. I don’t plan to.” Trixan smiled. “I have something else in mind.”