There was a sound of shuffling as Carcoatl turned a quarter-way to face him, a few pebbles tossed away by his dragged robes, drumming sharp and clear before waning into echoes along the mountain's slope. Oscar didn't respond, watching the two suns leaving high noon and beginning their long trek toward the horizon. The Snail's shut eyes still locked on him, expecting an answer. Question after question, so many others wanted answers, but why did he have to reply? Oscar grasped his knees, the bones creaking under the pressure of his vice grip.

After thirty minutes of silence, bearing the stare of a Primaere, Oscar sighed and wheeled around, heading back to the other edge where he had come from. His mood soured the more he pondered on the question. As his wheels rolled without a sound on the flat peak, forceful and rushed wheezing followed him, the Snail Primaere pulling his own deformed body in a hasty chase, his feet scrunching on the fine silt. Oscar wondered why the Primaere, who could fly and travel long distances instantly, walked on foot.

A kind gesture? It didn't matter. He stopped near the edge and peered at the small house, a puff of smoke rising from the chimney. From it, he smelt freshly made stew, and even though he was too far from the house to see or hear, he could imagine Avril setting the table and humming in her chair while waiting for his return. Carcoatl leaned over the edge, his long neck extending like a turtle from its shell, boils covering his throat. This time, Oscar turned to face him, finally finding the answer, the reality gnawing at his thoughts as he watched over the city. It was too similar, too exact, and familiar.

"I don't want to lead more into their deaths. I'm tired of fighting. I'm sick of the blood on my hands." The army he was supposed to lead, loyal warriors under his thrall, everyone shouting his name and cheering in unwavering determination to fight by his side. Several decades. That was enough for many talented young students below to progress into Marshal Exalts, barely Lower ones, possibly Middle. Oscar dropped his hands by his sides, gritted his teeth, felt the stir of another manic attack, and shakingly drank from another vial. "I don't want more ghosts in my nightmares."

"Sorry. Not all the apologies in Talos can lighten your burdens, but the time will come when you will face what you must endure." Carcoatl sounded raspier, fainter than before. "I have endured and stood upon the mountains of my dead children, all sacrificing themselves in battles long before your time and battles for your sake. Their deaths are my burden."

"Then why not just give up? Surrender and spend your last days in peace?" Oscar noted the Snail Primaere was near death, dying of old age.

"Do you now know the answer? You understood it well during your war. Your speech to the Black Aegis Order when they first gathered, your men raising their arms. Have you forgotten?" Carcoatl coughed, black blood splotching his palm.

"Shut up." Oscar smacked his armrest, already ruined prior. "When I find my wife in Fallen Heaven, I'm taking her away and hiding for however long as we need. Isaac's legacy, the Voltens, Metures, I don't care. Let me go back home."

Carcoatl seemed reluctant but gently waved his hand, and a rush of Ein swept under his wheels, sending him to his doorstep. Heat welled in his eyes, and Oscar smacked his forehead and covered his mouth, forcing down the tears he should not shed. A cheerful cry came from inside, the soft, gentle voice tugging his lips into a smile. The door opened, and Avril leaped out, embracing him. He sensed her worry, her anxiety in the little trembles of her arms, feeling so helpless.

"What did the Primaere want?" Avril pushed him inside and sat him before a hot bowl of steaming stew, colorful vegetables resting in a white soup, enticing his appetite, his stomach grumbling at the toasted bread and steak by the side. She didn't like meat or the smell of it, but she cooked it all for his sake. The amount of effort she poured out for his sake made Oscar wince, the onset of tears threatening to ruin this harmonious moment.

"Nothing. He wanted to know about my legs." Oscar replied, lifting the hot bowl to his lips and sipping, using the steam to hide his face. He closed his eyes, focusing on the taste, letting his mind forget the ordeals of the past, drawn in by the present where he lived with Avril.

"Really? She doesn't believe him for a second and pinches his ear." Avril pinched and sat beside him, sharing the comforting meal with him, not asking another question. She simply kept him company, something he was thankful for.

Late at night, Oscar slept soundly, safe from Avril's advances for the first night in this new place. He wandered across fields of golden grains, his legs moving on their own, remembering the paths between the stalks. Brushing aside the heads of grain, Oscar looked down at the sound of rock and saw a familiar path. Following it, he plopped to his knees, the tears he could not shed outside overflowing here. A simple farm stood here, every stone, brick, wood, and straw imprinted in his memories: the one room, two beds, and a small bookcase known to him.

Suddenly, his knees were deep in black ashes and charred dirt. Flames burst from the ashes, swallowing the fields of grains and encroaching on his home. Now, his legs failed him, refusing to rise as the fires consumed the house, burning every straw until the husk of wood and stone collapsed. Every crackle of the damned flame surged a spike of pain in his mind. The flames blinded him until they were put out so easily as if they were candlelight before a breeze. He stared, aghast at the thick pools of blood streaming under his knees.

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Lifting his arms, he shuddered, the thick scent of blood choking him. He gagged but could not cover his mouth, for his hands were drenched. Bodies, countless bodies floated like driftwood, slowly approached. As one passed by, the head spun unnaturally around its neck, facing him, his stomach churning as horror widened his eyes. It was Fred. More bodies rode the stream of blood, all turning to him, Emily, Susan, Uren, Alec, every person damned to die under him. Their dead, dull eyes never departed their gaze, and their mouths moved, whispering a sickening curse. Unable to bear it, he shut his eyes and screamed.

"It's ok. It's ok." Avril's voice drowned out the whispers, and he tried to respond, but something forced its way out his throat, and he vomited into a bucket. Avril repeated her soft words endlessly, gently patting his back, each thump resonating with his heart, calming it down. Oscar puked more and more until he fell asleep once again. This time, the nightmares stopped.

The next morning, Oscar woke up and brushed his fingers along Avril's hair. She was sleeping on his arm, holding several vials with a tense face, worry creasing her brow in high tension, her shut eyelids trembling. He stroked along her forehead, easing the creases until her tense expressions diminished. She woke up, her drowsy yawn filling the room as her pupils flickered around, unfocused before landing on him. Avril didn't say anything, only stroking his cheek and smiling slightly in a wordless comfort. As he lay there, holding her, his mind fixated on only one goal, believing he required nothing more.

The following week, Oscar lived more of the same peaceful life, though Avril had to suffer his troubles at night. In the mornings, they cuddled for a few more minutes before starting the day off with breakfast. Oscar spent his afternoons in the mountain, a cavern filled with magnetic force, the best environment for his training. They'd reunite for lunch, spend more time training, eat dinner, and read a few books, mainly Avril reading while he rested on her lap. During the long nights, they embraced one another, sometimes with great passion, relieving their lust and losing themselves to pleasure.

Oscar sat nervously, tapping frantically on the armrest, newly repaired, and glanced around, mainly to the clock ticking loudly, uncaring of his plight. Avril stifled a laugh and patted his shoulders, pecking on the cheeks. Enliven by her care, Oscar inhaled deeply and waited by the door. Footsteps sounded nearby, his heart racing, then stopping, then racing again. The door creaked open, and two figures stepped inside, followed by two others. Seeing the boy and girl, now a man and woman, their blue eyes round, unblinking, and their curly brown hair, Oscar lost his words, unable to find the correct ones to speak.

"Renn, Gloria. Welcome back. Look who here's. She chuckles nervously and twirls her hair." Avril spoke first, an awkwardness taking hold of all.

"Right. Um. Right." Renn scratched his neck, pacing around as if avoiding Oscar. "Welcome back. I suppose." He walked closer and nodded, clearly shaken as he averted his gaze away, sitting near the table where a hot meal waited.

"Yea. Mom, is there any word from Aunt–" Gloria seemed to avoid Oscar and regarded Avril with a similar cheerful smile, but Avril coughed and gave her a look, Gloria clamping her mouth shut, fidgeting around while throwing glances at Oscar. She joined her brother at the table.

"I hope we're not intruding. May I join you all for lunch?" Remulus opened his space pocket and pulled out some tea and snacks. "I brought dessert."

"You're more than welcome, Master." Avril accepted the gifts.

"Oscar, you know Auren, in a way." Remulus clasped the young man's shoulders. "A great talent, indeed. I only wish our home had a formation genius. Imagine how different our defenses and traps would have been if–" Avril stamped her foot down and glared, forcing him to shut up. Remulus apologized and gestured to Auren.

"My Lord. I return to serve." Auren bowed, the young, immature look hardening into a warrior's. "I understand you may hate having us, but we will serve and fight for your sake."

"Us?" Oscar asked.

Auren unfurled a scroll, many signatures written in palms of blood under a sworn oath written above. "Marcus, Eve, Santen, Kragg, Restel, and I swear to serve. They all wanted to come but are focusing every ounce of time and effort on training so when the time comes, they'll fight and win! My Lord, we will fight on your side!" He huffed and crossed his arms in anger. "Astrid says she'll decide when she sees you in Fallen Heaven. The nerve of that woman!"

"You should follow her example. You all should. No one should serve me. Fight for yourselves. Don't place your life on my hands." Oscar wheeled away.

"But, my Lord!" Auren shouted from behind.

"I order you to forget me!" Oscar shouted, silencing the room. "Sorry. I just don't…."

Lunch was eaten mostly with awkward laughs and small talk. Oscar found it quite hard. Conversing with Renn and Gloria was straining, but after a long day, they finally got to greet each other properly in farewell. Avril reassured him it would be long, but they also loved him. Oscar knew she was right and resigned to use the long years to reconnect with them. Oscar lost his breath, as did Avril, both holding their heads. He heard a voice, deep and familiar, Metures's voice.

"IT IS NIGH." Metures's voice echoed, and everyone who had left rushed back inside the house, clearly having heard the voice as well.

'Interesting. He's not awake. He must have recorded his voice. It has been far too long since I've heard that bastard's voice. What an ingrate. High and mighty ass.' Ignyres scoffed.

"Everyone heard that, right?" Remulus took charge and addressed the group. "We're running out of time."

"IT IS NIGH!" Metures's booming shout resounded again, and all fell to their knees. Oscar slumped in his wheelchair and cursed inwardly. He knew they would no longer have peaceful days as the world would enter a chaotic era, the one envisioned by Ollanar.

…….

Four decades later, Oscar washed his face by the basin and heard Metures, gnashing his teeth as the Ancient of Metal declared, "IT IS TIME!"