Mhaieiyu

Arc 3, Chapter 2

Watch Over Me

The door to Chloe’s shared room swung open with a vengeance as Tokken stumbled in, legs made useless. The Cryptid rose her head from the nook of her bed, eyes narrowed.

“Tokken…?” she yawned, “where’ve you been? I sent to look for you, but I just got smirks.”

“Have you looked into bovine castration yet?” Tokken huffed out, his lungs wheezing. Though his every muscle was soup, he threw himself into the shower and threw out his clothes, each trapped to his skin from the sweat.

“No? I’m not allowed to carry those procedures.” Her nose scrunched up. “You stink.”

“Blame Norman!”

“Did he wrestle you in the mud or something?”

“He had me join the Mortos-damned army!”

No words. The shower head began its gentle spray of ice cold water, much to Tokken’s approval, and Chloe was left to blink her doubts away.

“What, really?” she said, trying to find the line between satire and reality.

There was no line.

“Yep!” he shouted from within. Chloe was baffled. So baffled she began laughing her little heart out.

“Oh!” she sniggered out between giggles, “You poor thing!”

“I’m this close to sending that bull to the butchers!” Tokken spat, though he smiled. Indeed, his body was wrecked. And this was day one. Somehow, though, he felt good. It certainly wasn’t what he was meant to do, but he felt productive doing it, at least. It also meant he’d be treated better than just a ‘shrimp’.

“Why did you accept?” Chloe shouted. She wasn’t heard. Shaking her head, she tucked her head back onto her pillow.

The bed had been shaped in such a way that the canine had enough space on the opposite side of the bed for her size to be comfortable; no longer sleeping as a cat would. She never used the covers, though. Her thick fur kept her warm during colder nights, and any more would just stifle her. She literally felt the temperature drop the longer the shower went on, which had her head peak up again.

“Tokken, don’t freeze yourself!” Chloe shouted again. No response. She sighed.

Shortly after, the boy stepped out of the shower, almost tripping on account of his dying calf. After drying himself off, he slipped on some boxers, insisting Chloe face the other way, dropped his Jewel on the bedside table and then slipped into the covers. The cold was perfect, and he never felt more satisfied.

“Goodnight!” Tokken said, laying on his palms.

“You seem awfully cheery tonight. I’m happy for you,” Chloe said.

“It got rid of my headache, this.”

“Maybe you just needed something to occupy your mind?”

“Perhaps.”

She heard the rustle of his head moving.

“How was the Ward today?”

“A bit sad. One of the boys was adopted today, and he didn’t look like he wanted to go,” the Howler went on, “but I know he will be safe. He’s moving to a household in the southwest.”

“What? Aren’t there still Crawlers?”

“That area was kept clear during the Galloping. It’s the one place the Syndicate can’t falter in. Nobles of all sorts live there,” she explained, eyes closed.

“Huh…” Tokken hummed, looking at the ceiling. “Look at you, getting so knowledgeable. I’m sure you’re enjoying it.”

Chloe yawned again, and her tone trailed off. “Well, yes. I’m accomplishing what my kind never seemed to bother to try. I feel… like I’m really making a difference.”

“I’m sure you are, Chloe.” Once he began to hear the soft snores of the canine, he too closed his eyes and welcomed sleep. And as he slept, the Jewel began to glow again, following him in his dreams.

Chloe, standing to watch that bastard knife during the earliest of hours, furrowed her brows and concentrated. The Jewel sparked and protested, but with a good deal of effort, it was made to stop. Sweat began to bead off her forehead, and she felt her throat tighten without air, but a few huffs cleared her up. The Howler noticed Tokken’s restless body cease its movements, no longer disturbed. She smiled and returned to her bed, eyeing the lad until she too left for the clouds.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

To let go of someone was among the most challenging things for any soldier to face. Be it a civilian caught in the crossfire, an innocent enemy who wished none harm or the comrades that fell instead of he, Corvus was not one to take death lightly. He much preferred doubt. That too-often fruitless grasp to a hope that wasn’t worth harbouring, he much preferred it. Ripping the communicator from his wrist, he clutched it tightly before lobbing it into the ocean blue.

From here, everything looked blue. The night was lighter than usual today, the sea glowed a brilliant soft blue, and the pebbles that ground beneath the waves reflected its dear light. Beneath his feet, Corvus held tightly the necklace Charm he wished Erica to have: Heaven’s Martyr. A life-saving jewel, Its beautiful gold had lost its sheen to a dull copper, its magic spent, and yet it felt fruitless, as did his hope. He held it so tight he felt it bend and snap. Erica’s life hadn’t been spared as he intended. He hadn’t swept in to save her as he intended. He hadn’t given her comfort during her final hours as he intended. Instead, he wept like a baby watching her leave, reduced to a catatonic state as he collapsed by the orders of his superiors. A Swan’s doing.

His superiors… Human fucking beings.

He had allowed these, these apes to control his will. By following their demand, he was left to stay put and do nothing at all, and in the meantime, in a horizon further than his eyes could see, Erica was ripped from the world by monsters.

Human fucking beings. He recalled barging into the boardroom and chopping off a hand before slicing the belly of one of the older fuckers that lead the team. Hoern.

Recapturing his vengeful actions, he felt shame, but it felt so good too. He had allowed the Crimson to escape. Corvus blamed it on his bitterness. He would never have lost otherwise. The Reaper, Sagittar, was as good as dead otherwise. But apparently it wasn’t him. It was another. Corvus vowed to find and kill whoever did this to her.

“Erica, you died in vain. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he mourned, tears falling on the pebbles beneath him.

A hand on his shoulder ripped him from his trance. He looked up at her. Erica?! No. No, it was the outcast. Eclipse knelt down beside him, and he made sure to wipe his eyes before she saw. Fruitlessly, naturally.

“Corvus,” she named him, her ethereal voice as bewitching as he had remembered it.

Eclipse had been keeping an eye on Corvus since his meltdown, always far enough away that he didn’t lose himself to stress. She understood well the eyes he bore, the stares he gave. He was submitting to wrath: to devastating pangs of revenge.

“I yearn,” Corvus corrected. “I yearn right.”

“I think you seek death, Corvus,” she corrected in turn, making him turn away. “You know, slaying they who did this won’t bring her back.”

“It will keep others safer.”

“You have become a danger to others yourself.”

Corvus tightened his grasp on the spent Charm. It had lost its form. “I know.”

His wings lay ungraciously down his back and over the pebbles, loose and without the proper form his kin practised — not unlike a nasty slouch.

“It’s a shame you don’t have a halo,” Eclipse commented kindly, feeling his hair and the lack of a ring aloft it.

“Are you calling me a Swan…?”

“I don’t know what that means, but whatever it is, I don’t mean it badly. I think they look beautiful.”

Corvus looked away from her and toward the calm sea. Every few seconds, a small wave would grind the pebbles together. He sighed. “Swans… have smaller wings. Useless things. They lack the grace that we Hawks carry as we fly.”

“Ah, how curious,” Eclipse cooed, a smirk lining her foxish face. “Well, surely you wouldn’t want to fall from that grace if that’s what distinguishes you.”

“What are you trying to say?” the Celestial demanded, only to be shushed. The sword shook in its sheath as he tapped its handle contemplatively.

“What was she like?” Eclipse said before he could lose himself to anger. The angel tensed, she felt it, but she could see his eyes lose some of their frigidness to warm memories.

Corvus breathed in a shudder. “She was a ditz. She couldn’t meander a mile without squabbling over something with someone.” He shook his head. “She was… She’s sweet, when she wants to be. Never productive, but she tries, I know that. Erica is…”

Eclipse stood up, seeing him cup his head with his palms.

“She was loyal. And she loved me.”

“And did you love her?”

Though she waited, the answer didn’t come for a good while. She stood very still, being sure not to step over where Corvus designated Erica’s grave. She dropped her gauntlets on the floor, each with a thud and chink, to relieve her hands of the pressure. Eclipse stretched her fingers, glancing at her nails.

“You’re safe to speak, Corvus. It’s only us three here,” she insisted, hearing him scrape his fingertips against the necklace’s piece. The thin silver chain popped, snaking down to meet the rocks.

“I love Lyth,” he finally said. His palm continued to crush the Charm. Soon it would be dust. “I loved Erica.”

Eclipse raised a brow. The frustration on his face was so clear, veins squeezing to the surface of his forehead. “You loved them both?”

“Lyth is still alive.” The thing cracked further.

“Where is she?” Eclipse pressed. Somehow, her voice disarmed Corvus, though the object of her questioning was much too personal for him not to stress. Eclipse watched as he pointed a shaking finger toward the ocean — or rather, that that laid beyond.

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“She’s there.”

“Zwaarstrich?”

“Beyond.”

“Ah… I see…” Eclipse grasped her cheeks, contemplating how a Celestial might survive in the freezing Badlands. The answer was clear to her. She must be dead. But, seeing Corvus lay in his burning hope, Eclipse smiled softly to herself. She poked his shoulder, offering him her hand. “Shall we go seek her, then?”

The chill of early dawn mixed with that voice. It was that voice, the kind you heard in nostalgic dreams. Motherly and sweet. Terrifying.

"Seek… her…?" he stammered, the words rolling off his tongue on their own.

"Well." Eclipse looked about, retreating her hand. "I wager it's no good lying sick in doubt."

Corvus looked up at her, a glint in his eyes. It shone for a second, bright like his early wing feathers, but they soon dwindled. "Nonsense. You'll freeze."

"Oh…" she said, giving the crunching waves a listen. A moment of hesitation followed, like she were contemplating something dire. 'No point dying in the cold, surely,' Corvus thought. Still, she pierced the quiet. "Charming, that you might be so concerned for a woman you barely know. I'll live."

"Do you hear yourself?" Corvus shouted then, a tad more irritated than perhaps he should be. Eclipse didn't retreat. "Forgive my crass, but you're not fit to live in ice. Lean frame, ebony skin. Starved. You will be deceased a mile in. Do you have the slightest inkling of how great the Badlands' expanses are?!"

Eclipse kept her grin. "No, I can't say I do. I would love to find out, however."

"You mad harpy——!"

The devastated Hawk came frigid when a very different hand touched his nape. His pupils shrunk. A great deal of hair caressed his neck. How could this be?

"I'll live," she insisted.

Corvus turned his gaze slowly towards her body, watching as it changed right in front of him. He sprung off his knees, stood by her—his head only just matching hers in height—and, without contemplation, reached his palm to Eclipse’s face, allowing his scabbard to bang against the substrate. The sullen Lieutenant was spellbound, feeling his skin tickle and the hairs of his arms stand at her morphing cheek. In seconds, Eclipse’s flesh twisted and turned, erupting with a thick layer of black-night fur. Her jaw was lengthened, now slender, with a set of prickly canines protruding past her lips. From her lower back, a dense bush of similar coat took form and hung right off the floor. Her eyes grew and, like ruptured yolk, the pupil in either melted and took form once more, now an unnatural bright orange. She didn’t lose a dot of stature, but the human body had been replaced entirely by a fox-like anthropoid.

“What kind of hex…? You’re… a Vyxen?” Corvus could only guess, taken aback by this sudden transformation. Though unpleasant to see, it was quick and quiet. Emris’ own reshaping couldn’t compare.

“Silly boy,” Eclipse sniggered, giving him a knock over the head, “I’m a Chameleon.”

Of course. It made more sense now. The exile had come from the Dwellers’ domain; a land where Chameleons abounded. But, for her to be so sapient… Eclipse had to have been a special breed indeed. Time ticking, she jumped on her feet, getting a feel for her new anatomy. Corvus could hardly bring himself to stand with her.

The winds from the Northern Hemisphere… He could feel them now.

Chilling.

“Why are you so enthused?” Corvus asked, not daring to pry on her existence as a Chameleon.

“Exploration invigorates me. Why, it’s the very reason I abandoned my similars,” she gave this answer.

The Celestial’s shoulders definitively slumped. “I’ll never understand women.”

“The enigma is far more tempting, no?” Eclipse teased, giving him a wry wink. Seeing him unamused, she shushed her perkiness but chortled anyway. “I apologise. Now isn’t the best time to joke of that, but bear hope.”

He walked up to her, settling his arms under her shoulders and gripping her tightly. “I’ll certainly try.”

“Come now. You were the one who insisted, weren’t you? My ears heard,” Eclipse did tease, pushing herself back into him like a cat on its owner’s lap.

“I know,” he answered brief. His sad wings rose with such splendour still. He braced himself, steeling too, and squatted a fraction. And then, with a mighty drop of his feathered limbs—with such humble and effortless grace—he roared into the sky with the slinkish lass like a bolt from a crossbow, startling her for a moment.

In the skies, blasted by the numbingly cold air, Eclipse couldn’t restrain her cries of amazement. “Maturna!” Eclipse shouted so, “Apologies! Victus! This is…! Flight is…!”

Whatever she screamed into heaven, her excitement wouldn’t be heard. The whizzing winds were so strong. The cold, numbing. She didn’t care. Years of acrobatics couldn’t hope to match this intense feeling of relief — this luxury of true freedom. Now, even the skies weren’t a limit. A bit of an exaggeration, but the Chameleon couldn’t be bothered to think coherently. Her sight struggled through the raw turbulence, but beneath her, Eclipse saw the sea. She saw the lightless Zwaarstrich minutes after; its torches spent with none to maintain them. A saddening sight; news had reached the exile of its fate. Now wasn’t the time, however. Up ahead, though a blur, she could faintly see the shores of new land. A world she could only have imagined thus far. A wintry world, where cold was all and abundant: the Badlands. Its coast wasn't dark like Zwaarstrich was. Tiny settlements dotted the shoreline. Eclipse yearned to witness their cultures.

“Look!” she pointed, a bit childishly. “Those villages. The last of Rennegard’s people, are they not?”

Corvus could only faintly make out what she said. He didn’t answer. Instead, his mind rotted with a violent storm of aching thoughts. Erica was dead. He was coming to rescue his likely skeletal spouse. A Chameleon snuck into Syndie affairs. Emris…

The Guardian. Where could he be now, he wondered. Thinking of him whilst staring at the zooming continent ahead made him dwell further in his memories. It kept his mind off his wife, so he welcomed them. On the first day he saw him face-to-face—he remembered—he had only come to kill him. An ignorant decision to make. It could have cost him dearly. His wife would not have had to live through this wintry hellscape.

Corvus shuddered — he relived the day he lost his wife to this land.

Corvus grimaced — he remembered the day he almost ended the world,

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

A ceaseless snap of branches and twigs broke by the running pair’s ears, overshadowing the subtle whimpers of the infant boy that hopped in the lead’s arms. An uncomfortable yet secure grip would keep the toddler from slipping, and a hand locked around the wrist of the woman behind him would ensure she too wouldn’t fall behind. The two adults panted as they made their run through the thick bush; a grimace from both as the man took the brunt of nature to his face.

In the near distance, past the canopies’ embrace, a loud swish disturbed them and renewed their vigour. The slow wing beats were audible, each one. Running felt feeble, but it beat idleness. And then, the vicious spin of metal captured their attention.

The man with sharp teeth forced the lady to stop running; she bumped roughly into his back. A rasp inhale left the sir in tatters. A sword with a steel that glowed white with heat skewered the earth ahead, and when he glanced up high, the sight of the angel descending from the frozen skies sent a mixture of fear and anger gushing through him.

A man with no halo and two vibrant, large wings of white. The Hawk Celestial loomed overhead.

“Guardian,” the angel’s voice boomed, “I refuse to insist forever. By order of the Skyborn Major, relinquish yourself and yours to the Saintess immediately.”

The father’s teeth dragged together in his mouth, sharpening them further. “Leave me, my son and my wife alone, Sword. I thought you were supposed to defend me.”

The angel, Corvus, exhaled with a closed mouth. “I was willing to fulfil that purpose, but you have failed to meet any of our expectations. We are ashamed to harbour you as our Guardian.”

Emris felt his eyes water as apprehension settled in. His voice cracked. “I’m protecting my family.”

“Indeed. It’s been too long. A hundred and seventy years of inaction. Our society has been without a shield for a hundred and seventy years. Have you any concept for how many have been butchered during this… this abdication of yours?!”

The strength in Corvus’ voice carried so that the wind blew at the hairs on their heads. Startled, the infant began to bawl. Emris turned to the lad, breathing heavy with stress, his vision weighing and squeezing. He reached a hand out to the woman, watching her try to comfort the product of their union. Moon looked back at Emris. She said something his ringing ears didn’t pick up on, but it instilled him with decisive resolve.

He wasn’t going to abandon his young.

Emris turned back to the Celestial sent to hunt him down. He steadied his panic, pushing down the bile in his throat; breaths that shook, hair standing. His arms spread wide to plead one last time.

“I have a son. If you have any moral, show us mercy and abandon this place. I won’t come with you peacefully.”

Corvus looked down and frowned upon him for his choice, for the angel’s decision had already been made. “It’s a shame. That boy will grow up to see me as the villain. So be it.”

Emris’ palms glowed bright between his knuckles, an icy dome forming weakly around the two most important people in his life. Before it came to a close, his frustrated mind welcomed the faint giggle of his child.

“Aye, and I have every intention of seeing that happen,” Emris proclaimed, squaring his shoulders and balling his fists for combat.

The battle that raged on rang like bells every second. The clang of hallowed steel failing to penetrate the famed barriers of the Guardian could be heard within the mile and with abundance. Though he was used to besting the beasts of these tormented lands, Emris was surprised and overwhelmed by the unspoken velocity of this swordsman. The irony that the Guardian’s Sword might try to slay him in this manner didn’t escape Corvus.

Emris dragged back on his heels at the last slash impeded. It had carried enough force to crumble the earth by his feet, his boot trapped. The brief moment of vulnerability was exactly what Corvus had been aiming for, exploiting the muddiness of frozen dirt to root Emris to the spot. He noticed. A loud roar came when Corvus flew close. Emris took the iron to the shoulder, but in exchange, he blew back the angel with a power that rivalled a cannon, sending him to roll. Once his body hit and collapsed a tree, the Celestial spat out a mixture of acids and blood, not prepared for such a counter.

The two combatants panted—the Guardian too heaved—as they looked back at each other. Whereas Corvus’ eyes were determined, Emris’ glare was uncertain and distressed. This fight had to end, for his and his family’s good. The wingless Guardian took slow, hardy steps toward Corvus, tired and without options. If Corvus were allowed to survive, he would inform the current Skyborn of Emris’ whereabouts and they would be overpowered in a blink.

Corvus laid back against the tree trunk, his arms draped over his knees, his hand grasping the handle of his sword uneasily. He watched Emris draw near. The hesitation was clear.

“Guardian,” Corvus said, struggling through crushed breaths.

“Emris,” the man corrected, building the flame of revenge.

“I don’t blame you for leaving us behind.”

Emris stopped moving forward.

“I realise the stress is much to bear. I’m sorry you were raised in such a way.”

Emris said nothing.

Corvus inhaled. His breaths had steadied, and he stood up. “That being said, you have failed far more than just us.”

A disturbed grunt followed upon witnessing those glorious wings unfurl noiselessly. The weight of his sins caved Emris’ mind. Having proven his strength alone to be insufficient, his jaw popped, cracked and splintered, widening the stretch of his horrid canines.

“You have reduced yourself to an animal,” Corvus acknowledged, harsh. He bent a knee forward, fingers dancing upon the grip of that shimmering weapon.

“You won't hurt my son,” Emris growled all too sickly, a foam of sorts falling from his lips.

“It is my oath that we will do better by him.”

Corvus’ wings fell by his sides with a great boom. Emris didn’t get a chance to react, as thirty steps became none in an instant. A reflex spared his neck but cost a forearm, which spun wildly in the air to fall with a splat against the iced grass nearly a hundred feet away. Emris looked back in shock; the blur that was Corvus had disappeared from his sight as he whizzed across the heavens and down upon him. The whirring of that sword was the only indicator. Emris rose his remaining arm skyward, conjuring a smaller barrier that would be obliterated by the weapon’s strike, moving past its reaches to slice down the length of his torso.

The angel landed by the maimed man, thrown back by a combustion explosion expelled by the Guardian. It did little more than distract him. Corvus watched as the Fifty-Seventh limped toward the bubble his family was enclosed by, which faded further with Emris’ weakening body. His remaining hand banged upon it, unable to steady himself. Whatever Moon said was cancelled out by the dome.

Emris breathed deeply, staring back into the panicked eyes of his love. She pushed a bronze pistol against her side of the barrier, pleading that she may use it. Emris shook his head, air leaving his cut lung. He clutched the gash on his belly, stopping his guts from falling in front of his family. Turning around, he gruffed at the sight of Corvus standing there, so able and unscathed.

“You are unable to fight, Emris,” Corvus asserted, taking a step forward. “Relinquish yourself and the heir. I promise, this isn’t an act of cruelty.”

“Well it seems… pretty fucking cruel… to me…” Emris struggled yet spoke, blood falling from his lip. Seeing that the flesh of his stomach had mended, he reached out exhaustedly toward the Celestial, building a fiery spell.

“Don’t do this——”

“I won’t let you take him.”

The energy in his hands grew with intensity, and soon, steam began to creep from the Guardian’s mouth. Before the heat could develop proper, Corvus bowed his head and shot forth.

Emris must have lost his sight, because he couldn’t see what happened next.

The bubble faded, gunshots rang and then ceased. A few cries. An embrace upon his back. He heard first his love, but her voice was drowned out. He didn’t want to hear it, but the King spoke louder than she ever could.

Emris shot open his eyes and jumped in his seat. A coat of sweat had soaked through his top. He looked around, feeling poisoned and fatigued. The light outside the windows was too bright, and the music on the radio too loud, worsening his nagging headache. The man rubbed his eyes some, leaning against the steering wheel that had gathered heat in the sun. The feeling of illness was intense this time around. Dozens of beer cans surrounded him, falling off of him and below the various seats like a slob. What he saw above him was a complete mess. A disgusting red stain encrusted with bone fragments and brain splatter had engulfed the roof right by his hair. Emris groaned, rubbing his eyes some more and feeling around for his jacket. He caught it in the passenger seat, took it and reached into its pockets, thumbing past his prized locket to nab the metal flask. Unscrewing its top was difficult and he spilt some of its contents, pouring what remained into his maw, sputtering until he swallowed it all.

After a few breaths, panting for air, he dropped the thing in the footrest among at least six other tins. Unwilling to remember sobriety, he clumsily reached for the dashboard and retrieved his pistol again.