Chapter LXXXIV: Agendas, Part One

The evergreen leaves of the Great Star Tree rustled as they were shaken by the late autumn wind. Colder air was beginning to blow in from the north, and soft dirt of Sarutabaruta was hardening with frost as each frigid morning dawned. With no sunlight to warm the air, ice was being seen in the temperate region for the first time in decades. Above, not a single cloud blotted the sky, yet it was still gray and dark as the heart of winter.

Secure's breath steamed as he looked out from the knoll upon which he stood. Windurst still stood, and his gaze matched the temperature around him. He had leveled its buildings, slaughtered its defenders, defeated its champions, yet still they rallied against him. His glorious war machine had been broken, torn apart by the fangs of the Great Beast Fenrir upon the bloodied streets of the Federation.

Yet his numbers were still vast. Though his behemoths now lay dead and bloated, his legions decimated and demoralized, his numerical superiority was still intact. He had spent weeks grinding Windursts defenders down, a strategy which would yet win him this war. Though less than half of what he had started with, once he reorganized his Vanguard and brought the Kindred to heel, he would storm into Windurst anew. All their struggling would yet prove for naught.

He felt a hand gently brush his shoulder. Soft and soothing, a reassuring touch let him know his plans would still come to fruition. He had strength, the only true thing in the world, and it would guide him to victory. All he desired would come to pass.

Like lightning, his gauntleted hand swung back and struck the person touching him. Blood flew from Cullen's mouth and nose as Secure's slap took her from her feet. She tumbled to the ground, coughing as tears of pain ran down her swollen cheeks. Secure looked down his nose at her, the wind whipping through his silver-gray hair. The black-haired woman was garbed in dull red rags, no longer worthy of the rich Eastern gowns he had dressed her up in. Slowly, she rose, wiping the blood from her chin as she gazed up at him pathetically. Remaining supplicant on her knees, she awaited further punishment for her failure.

Secure spit at the ground on her feet. "Heal yourself," he commanded, walking away imperiously. He had thought the woman a useful tool, but her failure to assassinate the Star Sibyl had proven him wrong. She would serve him now in hopes of redeeming herself, and perhaps that was just as well. His uses for a woman who considered herself his equal were limited.

Several of his commanders were waiting for him. Today they would discuss bringing back together the scattered horde still wandering Sarutabaruta and the neighboring Tahrongi Canyon. Some of the more powerful beastmen from Dynamis as well as Kindred from Xarcabard whom had joined their brethren after they broke free assisted him in controlling his multitudes. Once they had fully reassumed control, they would storm into Windurst once more and lay waste to the Star Sibyl, Meowolf, and everybody else still living within its walls. He would yet see Heaven's Tower in flames.

The large canvas tent wherein his command waited down the slope from where he stood, just past the large, shallow stream which fed into Windurst. He had longed to poison those waters, but it would have been wasted effort, he knew. They would have either purified the contamination with their accursed spells or simply drawn from any of Windurst's many self-contained lakes. As it was now, the water was beginning to freeze over, and a thin layer of ice stretched over the babbling brook. He stepped through it, frozen shards breaking off under his heel, heading for his meeting.

Suddenly the pearl tied around his neck jumped. Momentarily, he stopped in astonishment. It had been weeks since any of the others had contacted him. It vibrated against his chest, and he grasped it in between his armored fingers. Immediately, a familiar voice filled his ears, clear as if the speaker were right next to him.

"Secure," Doshu's Imperial accent still irked the Paladin when he heard it. "what are you doing?"

His surprise quickly faded into suspicion. "This had best not be a social call," he growled, stepping out of the water. Frost-covered grass crunched beneath his boots.

There was a quick, biting laugh. "Your welfare is always in my thoughts, my friend." He spoke with all the assurance of a particularly venomous snake promising not to bite. "I just wanted an update as to your progress."

"Windurst is mine," Secure snarled, his grip tightening on the black pearl between his fingers. "Their death throes have shaken my forces. It will be one more week to regroup, and a day or so after that to take the city and kill all those within." His eyes smoldered. In his mind's eye, he could picture the slaughter which would soon take place.

There was no response at first, and Secure briefly wondered if perhaps Doshu had indeed only wanted to inquire as to his progress. Then the man in black spoke to him again.

"I need you to withdraw from the region."

Secure nearly choked. Rage bubbled into his voice as he angrily shouted back. "I have this battle won! I will not flee from these peasants!"

Doshu's silken voice was calm as ever. "It is for the greater good, my friend. Windurst can wait. It has come to my attention that there are elements crucial to our success in Castle Oztroja."

"What are you talking about?"

"Eudon has found the survivors. One of the five souls we need is amongst them. We were already planning to take the castle for the Magicite inside, this merely pushes our timetable forward. March your forces north, we will need them to breach Oztroja's walls."

"I will not leave!" Secure insisted. "Send the thief or the wizard, this task is beneath me."

"No, you are right," Doshu said soothingly. "There is nothing for you at Oztroja. After transferring command of your forces to Eudon, you will return to Jeuno."

"You arrogant worm," there was cold fury in Secure's tone. "to order me around as such. I am not your puppet, Doshu. I will see Windurst fall. Find someone else to run your errands."

"Don't be a fool," this time there was no honey in the Ranger's voice. "Your petty grudge is worthless to our cause now. You can return later and kill them if you like, but trust me when I say such things will soon be beneath you. However none of that will happen if you start being stupid now."

"How dare you - "

"How dare you!" Doshu shot back. "You know how sensitive everything we have worked to accomplish is. Would you jeopardize everything now? Are you going to ruin everything we have spent years building towards because of your petty bloodlust? This is for our cause, Secure. You let me down here and it might as well be meaningless."

Seething, the Paladin ground his teeth in fury. The pearl strained in his clutches, threatening to splinter under the pressure. He could feel his face flushing with anger. He was to be denied his revenge. The thought of watching the life slip from Meowolf's eyes as he crushed the Galka's throat in his hands was fading away.

But the prize they had their eyes on was so much greater. He hated Doshu for ordering him around like some rank and file peon. More than that, though, he hated him for being right.

"Fine," Secure snarled, letting the pearl slip from his fingers. The cold did not touch him at all. There was too much anger setting his blood to boil.

He would abandon the siege of Windurst. He would go into the tent in front of him and order his commanders to round up their errant soldiers and begin marching to Meriphataud Mountains. He would do as Doshu said.

Then one day, when all had been won, he would make the bastard in black pay.


"Yo, I'm happy for your plan, and I'mma let you finish," Greyheart interrupted Ayn, "but that President guy has some of the best schemes of all time. Of all time!"

Ayn slowly turned his head as his eyes narrowed, a look of revulsion quickly spreading across the Hume's face. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself. Instead, he turned to the burly guard standing outside the gate of the Elvaan's cell.

"I'll give you ten gil if you beat him into unconsciousness."

"Hey!" Greyheart complained, pushing up against the bars. "That's not fair!"

"You're right," Ayn agreed, looking around the stone floors of Norg's dungeon. It took him a moment, but he located a sizable loose rock, scooping it off the ground and presenting it to the jailer. "Here, use this, I wouldn't want you to bruise your knuckles."

"Ayn," Tikinas said, taking the Thief's attention, "ignore him. We need to focus."

Raking a hand through his wavy black hair, Ayn turned away from the Red Mage's cell. It hadn't taken much to convince President that they should remain locked up. After all, these were uncertain times and you never knew who your friends were. Despite what they had done in Ifrit's Cauldron, it was better to keep an eye on the strangers. The strategem turned out to be a double-edged sword, however. Zealot, Menphis, and Greyheart remained imprisoned for most of the day where they couldn't bother him. Trying to have a conversation anywhere with Tikinas that didn't entail being absurdly ambiguous in order to avoid the hidden ears of Norg, entailed coming down to the dungeon.

So, they unwillingly shared their plans of escape with their unwanted companions, but no one listened to them so it wasn't that big a deal. The guard Ayn knew he could trust. Not out of any sense of loyalty, but because he had lost his tongue to a Sahagin a few years prior. Ayn never inquired how that happened, and the weathered pirate certainly wasn't talking.

"We've got to get out of here," Ayn continued where he had left off before Greyheart's interruption. "President's already cooking up something new for us, I can feel it." He nervously fingered the handles of the twin knives at his belt. "The old man's got us back and now he wants to keep us here. We'll never get out if we don't go now."

Tikinas nodded, her tail swishing back and forth. "The problem is how? He's got every ship in the water, it could be weeks before we even get the chance to stow away. And if we hide in Kazham he's sure to find us out." Leaning back against the dark rock wall, she idly twirled her two kunai in concentric circles on her fingertips. "Maybe we could fake our own deaths?"

Ayn shook his head. "Tried that on him once a few years ago. He didn't fall for it then, either."

The white-haired Mithra curled her lip back in thought. "We could always hide in the jungle if we're willing to rough it out. But . . ."

"But we don't know if the jungle's going to be safe." Ayn sighed mightily. There were still random demons wandering through the bush, and the normal monsters seemed especially agitated. More distressing than that though, Sahagin were starting to disappear from their home in the subterranean tunnels of Sea Serpent Grotto. No one knew where they were going, but the last time there had been a war the fishmen had sided with the demons. There was no reason to believe their stance on that had changed.

"So . . . " Tikinas was out of ideas. Ayn shook his head. He had nothing to offer either.

Both of them slowly turned as the bars of one of the cells clanked loudly. Staring hard at the two of them, Menphis was rattling his cage. The mute guard looked uncertainly at Ayn, but the Thief waved him away. He stood down with a shrug.

"What do you want?" Ayn asked disinterestedly, stepping towards the Ranger's prison.

Menphis's hard gaze met the other Hume's. "Get me out of here."

Rolling his eyes, Ayn turned away. "Once we're gone you'll be either set free or thrown to the sharks. Either way you just have to wait."

"No," the young Ranger hissed, "if you're leaving so am I. I have to get back to the mainland."

"I want to leave, too," Zealot complained from across the room. "It's dark in here, and there aren't any great axes."

"Shut up!" Ayn snapped. "I have my own problems. Let's get out of here, Tiki, this was a waste of time."

The Ninja sighed. "We'll think of something, Ayn," she said reassuringly.

"Oh, Master Ayn?" Greyheart called out as he and Tikinas began ascending the roughly-carved stone steps back up into Norg. Ayn knew he would hate himself for it, but he turned around anyway. The gray-haired Elvaaan poked his face out from behind the bars, smiling brightly. "I just wanted to share an observation with you."

Ayn steadied himself. They surely would believe he slit his own throat. No one would question it. How did all that blood get on your clothes, Ayn? they would ask. I bought them that way, he would tell them, gore and viscera is all the rage in Bastok right now. It sounded totally rational. "What is it?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Well, without much to focus on except the meaningful conversation," he indicated their mute guard, "I've been able to see a number of things down here, and I thought you should be made aware." Greyheart spread his hands through the bars generously, as if offering something of value.

"Get on with it," the Hume said, exasperated.

"I think you should know, your silent friend there has mastered the art of communicating with hand gestures. There's a whole language of the fingers, you know."

A chill suddenly went down the back of Ayn's neck as his eyes widened. Bounding down the steps, he found himself in front of the Red Mage's cage, peering at him dangerously. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

Greyheart nodded. "It's an entire language. And I've observed our guard knows it. Also, from time to time when he stops in to check on us, I've noticed that President speaks it, too."

"Aye," came a voice from the top of the stairs, "that I do."

Ayn clenched his eyes shut, feeling the will draining out of him. "You betrayed me, mute guy." He turned an accusatory stare at the now-grinning pirate. His tone was acidic. "How do you sleep at night?"

Standing with his fists at his hips, President looked down upon them with an expression of mingled anger and pain. "Ayn, what are ye doin? Why are ye tryin t' leave?"

Tikinas stepped aside as the pirate boss slowly descended the stairs. Ayn said nothing as his mentor slowly approached him, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. His shoulders were slumped beneath his heavy black coat, his posture hurt, or perhaps defeated. Ayn had never seen President look this way. He wasn't sure how to feel.

"I can't trust anybody else, Ayn," he told him sadly, "I can't trust them not t' let me down. You, I can always turn to. And ye don't want to help me? Ye're runnin' out right when we need ye most?"

"Boss, I . . . " President waved his words away, stifiling a sob. Slowly, the pirate ran a gloved hand over his face, combing it through his salt-and-pepper hair as he turned away. Trudging up the stairs again, he stopped at the door, sighing heavily.

"Ye really let me down, Ayn. Ye really let me down."

Ayn was about to speak when suddenly President spun around, his arm flashing in the dark. Instinctively, Ayn snatched at the air as something whizzed by his face, missing it by a hair's breadth. The elder pirate's knife struck the wall in Greyheart's cell, embedding itself solidly between two stones. The younger Hume's head arched up as President's booming laughter filled the dungeon.

"Har har har har! I can't believe ye fell for it! The only thing I'm disappointed in is that ye didn't make it off the island before I found ye out. Now round up your friends, I got a mission for ye and ye're leavin' right away."

"Damn you, old man!" Ayn swore, shaking his fist. Defeated, he slumped his shoulders.

"Like I said earlier . . . " Greyheart started saying from behind him. Ayn jerked his fist back without looking, but felt the satisfying impact which sent the Red Mage sprawling.

"President," Tikinas said, giving the Hume a smart bow, "forgive me, but Ayn and I don't want to get mixed up in this." He raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was very rare amongst dealings with pirates or Tenshodo that one so bluntly stated their reasoning. "We appreciate everything that you've done for us, but we've already helped you once. Ayn - and myself - we've spent a lot of time trying to establish ourselves as just Ayn and Tikinas. Not pirates or thieves or Tenshodo, just us. I'm truly sorry, sir," she bowed again, "but I speak for both of us when I say we'd rather just be left alone."

The old man smiled magnanimously at her, placing a hand on her black-garbed shoulder. Creases in his face became pronounced as he offered his toothy grin, and deep, reassuring voice. "Tiki, yer the apple of my eye. I've watched ye ever since ye were a lass, and now ye're the finest Ninja ever to step out of Norg. It would break my heart to turn down so heartfelt a request from ye." Slapping her shoulder brusquely, he turned around and headed back up the stairs. "So, I'll start cryin' first thing tomorrow, after you lot head out for the Temple of Uggalepih."

"Damn you, old man!" Tikinas snarled at him. She sighed as she and Ayn both exchanged the same look.

"Now look here," President said, rounding on the duo from the top of the stairs. "I understand yer wishes and full well intend to honor them. If ye don't want to be tied down by th' life we lead, that's yer decision, and yer well past th' time when I can order you around. But right now th' world's in turmoil and there's a lot of work t' be done." He looked down on them with those wise, authoritative eyes Ayn hated looking into, as they were right far too often for his liking. "So ye're gonna do yer part to pitch in and see us through the storm. When it's all over, I'll grant ye both yer freedom. Ye'll never work another job for me, nor Gilgamesh, nor even Aldo if he's still out there somewhere, unless ye really want. Deal?"

Sighing, Ayn nodded. "Deal . . .but, the Temple of Uggalepih? What could be there?"

A twinkle shone in the older Hume's eyes. "Someone's waitin' there. I need you to pick 'em up for me."

"But," Tikinas protested, "there are Tonberries in the temple."

"Ye'll have yer friends with you," President offered, gesturing towards the cells.

"Right, but what if all three of them die before Ayn and I can safely escape?"

His laughter filled the dank dungeon again. "Ye both are always so funny. But, I actually have made arrangements for ye - or, I should say, somethin' fell into my lap and I'm takin' advantage of it."

"I know I've done that before," Greyheart called out. Ayn's fist snapped backwards, but found nothing between the bars. He craned his neck around to find the Red Mage rubbing a bruise on his forehead, and standing a safe distance back.

"Allow me t' introduce yer newest teammate," President said, stepping aside. "Or, since she can do it herself, I'll let her."

Metal clanked against stone as a figure stepped into the light. Ayn had to strain his eyes to see up from where he was into the bright spot at the top of the stairs. There was a slim figure standing there, and from the silouhette she cast he could make out a tail gently moving back and forth. Two feline ears twitched atop her head, and the armor she was encased in was near-blinding while backlit in the darkness. He could see the fang-revealing smile on her face, however, as she snapped a smart salute. Tikinas practically leaped with surprise as the newcomer identified herself.

"Pinkfae of Those Guys, rrrreporting for duty, and to rrrrepay you for saving my life!" The Paladin was awake and fully alert, a state she had not been in since they discovered her at the entrance to Movalpolas all that time ago. What really caught his attention was the "Those Guys" part. The woman was a member of one of Vana'diel's most famous linkshells.

"You're all better!" Tikinas exclaimed.

"That's rrrright," she concurred. Her voice was of a higher register than Tikinas's, and she rolled her "r"-sounds like most Mithra did. "And believe me, have I got a storrrry for you."


West Ronfaure forest sprawled out before the city of San d'Oria. In brighter times, this had been a lush, green area, home to abundant wildlife. Red foxes would hunt pheasant through the dense shrubbery, when they themselves were not being hunted by the king's hounds. Deer and rabbit abounded, as well as feral funguars, living mushrooms with legs like frogs. The sun would sream in through the canopy, shedding light upon the peaceful glens. The Knightswell, Cheval River-fed waters a haven for carp, would glitter on quiet mornings where many a fisherman left a lure bobbing in the water while they napped against its sun-dappled banks. Travelers would admire the natural beauty of Ronfaure's hills and valleys while walking along its well-patrolled paths, where Royal Guardsmen kept the people safe from roving Orcs or Goblin brigands.

This was not the Ronfaure Ryu Akanei and Shaohuan ventured into. The trees were blackened with fire, rotted husks barely supporting their own weight. Green blankets of grass which had covered the rolling forest hills had vanished. In their place was ground which was cracked and dried, scorched with the flames of war. Even with his dragon's eyesight, Ryu could not see a single living thing in any direction. Not a bird nor mouse nor monster of the forest, nothing still dwelled in the ruined corpse of Ronfaure. Far off in the distance, plumes of black smoke still rose from behind the walls of San d'Oria. Snow was in the air, but falling only lightly, not near enough to cover up the ugly black spot marring the beauty which had once defined the Kingdom.

Clutching the dark cape flowing from his armor, Ryu moved forward with silent steps, keeping his head low. Shaohuan followed noiselessly behind him, the only thing marking her passage wisps of steaming breath which dissipated in the cold morning air. Only the rhytmic beating of Bo's wings made any noise as he hovered around the Dragoon, his sharp liquid eyes constantly scanning the horizon. The tiny party crept through the gloomy, dead forest, heading eastward at a crawl. Through the steep hill passes was the eastern portion of the woodlands, and it was there they would find the tomb of King Ranperre.

Ryu had told Shaohuan most of what he was going there for. He had explained seeing the rift open in Xarcabard, and his encounter with the Wyrmking. She knew what was at stake should he fail. By and large she had seemed to believe him. As long as she stayed relatively out of the way, Ryu found he was actually somewhat happy for the company. After so long trapped in Ordelle's Caves, the Dragoon found he appreciated the interaction. Bo also seemed approving, often protectively pacing around her when they would set up their camp for the evening.

Nevertheless, there were still some things Ryu had not shared. Such as the message the Wyrmking had given him shortly after they emerged from their encounter with Devul. A raging firestorm in his brain which took the shape of words in the language of dragons. He had brushed off his collapse upon receiving it as a moment of weakness following their battle.

The words did not translate directly into his own tongue, but their intent was clear nonetheless.

Vana'diel's judgment was near. His time was running out.

Questions flooded Ryu's mind. How was he to find Vrtra, a wyrm long believed dead? Would freeing him truly stop Bahamut's fires from eradicating life on Vana'diel, or merely buy them a temporary stay of execution? What was it that the Mithra was forcing the prisoners to carve? Who was the man in black, the one she called Doshu, and what was his connection to all of this? First and foremost, could he really accomplish the task which had been set out for him before it was too late?

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed Bo's urgent sense of warning piercing his thoughts. It wasn't until Shaohuan grabbed him by the shoulder that he snapped back to reality, quickly turning his head to see what was the matter.

The Thief had dropped down, belly on the frozen ground as she gestured for Ryu to follow. Beside her, Bo had also left the air, flattening himself as much as he could. Spreading out his cape, Ryu covered both of them in its folds, the dark cloth hiding them against the blackened ground.

"What is it?" He whispered, silently as he could.

Shaohuan shook her head, gesturing with her eyes out over the burnt ruins of West Ronfaure. Ryu turned his gaze to follow hers, trepidation building in the pit of his stomach as he realized what she was looking at.

Outside the gates of San d'Oria, a host was gathering. Lining up in columns twenty and thirty deep, surrounding giant machines of wood and steel, the Orcish army was massing. Heavily armored commanders walked through ranks of grunts, swinging swords and shouting in the throaty Orc language. Demons flitted about, mingling with their ranks of flying above them. Some of their number were the gray-skinned Orcs which had emerged from Dynamis, but by and large they were Vana'diel's own green variety.

As Ryu watched, they began marching south from the city, trampling the already-ruined ground. War machines rolled by as thousands of Orcish feet made the forest tremble, and demons screeched from on high. They kept still as stone as the beastmen made their march past them, headed in the direction of the La Theine Plateau. At such a march, he expected to see woodland creatures fleeing or taking wing, but there were no such beasts left in Ronfaure. Thus the Orcish host pounded through the dead forest, the new-fallen snow the only thing disturbed.

When the first column had passed them by, Ryu rolled over in a flash, tumbling down a short hill to let the earth conceal him. Bo crawled on his stomach down after him, and a nervous fear gripped both of them through the bond. The forest shook all around them as the Orcs made their way by. There he remained hidden, pressed up against the ground as the rocks leaped up at his feet and dying trees groaned. It was a long time before the shaking ceased, and even then he remained there, back to the ground, ears sharpened for the slightest disturbance.

He nearly leaped out of his skin when a whisper hit his ear. "I think they're gone," it told him.

"Shaohuan?" The Dragoon breathed, turning his head both ways, but seeing nothing. "Where are you?"

Then, right before his eyes, the Thief appeared in a flash. He would have yelped if Bo's sense of smell had not warned him where she was at the last instant.

"How did you do that?" He demanded.

"Keep your voice down," she insisted, still keeping herself hunched down low. "It's something you pick up as a Thief. Trade secret. But I was watching them, and they're gone."

"All of them?"

She shook her head. "That was just two detachments. There's still a big bunch of them that I can see near the city." The Hume girl's eyes caught Ryu's and he was surprised to see an uncertain fear lingering in them. "Ryu, what's happening? Where are all the Orcs going? What does this mean?"

Ryu remembered Bahamut's message to him, about the time of judgment drawing near. Resolutey, he drew his cape back, standing into a crouch and resuming his slow trek east.

"It means something big is about to happen, Shaohuan. And we haven't got a moment to spare."

Ducking and hiding, slithering their way through the ruined trees of Ronfaure, Ryu and Shaohuan continued their quest to King Ranperre's Tomb.


"I shouldn't have done that," Bongo reflected for what was not the first time. Sighing, he once more examined the ruined fragments of his broken bow.

"No," Hubby concurred, "but I'm guessing it felt amazing."

"Yes," the Ranger agreed, "yes it assuredly did."

Two weeks prior now they had parted company with North and November. For a brief moment, the two had been united in their victory over Keftenk and the recovery of Guttler. Putting aside their past differences, Bongo and North celebrated the hard-fought battle and acknowledged each other as worthy allies. Then, the following morning, North had made clear his plans to return to the Labyrinth of Onzozo.

"I must reclaim my kingdom," he said as he buckled the still-grumbling Guttler to his side. "This cannot wait."

"Fine," Bongo said, not really wanting to lose the Beastmaster's power, but at the same time understanding of his situaton. "But before you go, you promised you'd have the beasts tell us where we can find more survivors."

"That trifle? They're in Castle Oztroja, if you really want to know." North dismissed the Ranger's question as common knowledge, even as he summoned Panzer Galahad. Fully healed, the beetle happily walked by his master's side.

"Castle Oztroja," Bongo repeated flatly, watching the Elvaan prepare to simply turn and leave.

North flicked an eyebrow up, almost irritated. "I did not stutter. Was there anything else you needed before I depart? I am in a hurry."

"Yes," he replied, gripping the curve of his bow tightly, "you can stand still."

"What - " North didn't get the chance to finish before Bongo broke his bow across the Elvaan's jaw.

November shrieked as splinters of the war bow flew from North's face. The Beastmaster's head twisted around unnaturally as he fell into the sand. Hubby and Luma were there in a flash, holding Bongo back as he struggled to draw forth his knives. The situation rapidly declined from there.

"We were right there!" Bongo shouted. "We were right there and you took us away!"

"You can't . . . possibly conceive . . . " the Beastmaster's breathing was labored, "how much more important this was . . . than your finding your friends."

"You son of a bitch, North!" he raged. "When I get my hands on you - "

"Not if I do it first," a gruff voice growled from behind him. Dantrag tore an axe free from his belt, eyes blazing as he advanced on the fallen form of North. November was there almost immediately, raising her staff defiantly as a tongue of flame burst from its tip.

"Dantrag, don't!" Hubby called, still trying to hold back Bongo

"If you come another step I'll char the flesh from your bones!" November warned him, flames appearing at her feet. The Elvaan raised his axe threateningly as the Summoner called forth her power.

"Stop!" They looked up, then quickly down again, to find Qwid standing between them. The Tarutaru was ablaze with ferocious eldritch force, eyes glowing as he separated the two.

"It's his fault, dammit Qwid!" Bongo snapped, straining to break free from the two Samurai. "We'd be back with the others already if not for - "

"And Keftenk would still be walking around with Guttler." The Red Mage's tiny face was hard. "We know where they are. Let's not waste time fighting amongst ourselves."

"He struck North!" November hissed, the ground undulating beneath her as she pointed furiously at Bongo, crouched down at North's side. "This will not go unpunished!"

Qwid turned his head slightly, sparks leaping from his eyes as they fell on the Summoner. Bongo saw her gulp as a wave of the Tarutaru's power swept past her.

"Don'taru push your luck," he warned.

"I think perhaps," Hubby managed, pulling back to keep Bongo from lunging, "it's time we go."

"Nice meeting you!" Luma smiled at the duo from Onzozo. It was not much longer before they parted ways, abandoning the Valley of Sorrows and beginning their long journey back from where they had come.

It was when they had arrived upon the bleached sands of Valkurm Dunes that Bongo had requested their detour north. After much conversation and convincing, the five had gone across the La Theine Plateau, up into the blighted forests of Ronfaure. They had been appalled at the devastation as much as they were the sight of Orcs freely roaming the forests. Dantrag had stopped cold at the scene, witnessing his beloved city in ruins. Only through intense convincing that they would see this right did he agree to keep on moving. Concealed by the ebon skies of Dynamis, they slinked past the greenskins, and made it safely to Bongo's objective.

As frightening as the prospect of a San d'Oria overrun with Orcs was, equally unsettling was the discovery that Fort Ghelsba was almost completely abandoned.

The sprawling encampment wherein the Orcs made their fortress was practically bare. Naught but some roaming lizards and empty tents whose open flaps beat against the chilling winds. Winter was quickly encroaching, and already a smattering of white was decorating the landscape. The stream which ran through the Orcish base was hidden beneath a layer of ice, though Bongo could still feel the presence of fish running through the frigid waters. Try as he might though, he could sense not a single beastman anywhere in the area. Ghelsba had been emptied.

Whatever that portended, it would have to wait. For now, he was happy for the absence. It made his task that much easier.

"Yughott Grotto?" Hubby questioned as they entered the series of caverns. He eyed their surroundings suspiciously, fingers on the hilt of his great katana.

Bongo nodded. "It's a shortcut." Peering into the darkness, he could see a few bats hanging from the stalactites, but not an Orc in sight. "We'll get there faster this way."

"Ronfaure's connected to the Outpost, the Outpost connects to the Grotto, the Grotto connects to . . .Horlais Peak." Luma smiled her fanged smile, winking at Bongo as she sang. "And that's the way it goes. HA!"

He cocked an eyebrow at the eccentric Tshayan, but confirmed her suspicions. " It's like Luma says. We'll be there soon."

"So what's up here?" Qwid inquired as they neared open air again some time later. The wind was bringing wisps of snow their way, alerting them that they were coming upon an exit to the sprawling caves. The Tarutaru removed his cornered hat, using it to shield his face from the cold.

"It's a long story, but there's really only one important part." Bongo took hold of a rock, pulling himself free of the tunnels. "It starts with my father - Genji Demynix."

"Genji Demynix?" Hubby exclaimed, and Luma's eyes went wide as well. "Your father was Genji Demynix?"

Bongo cracked a smile, brushing a hand through his black hair. "The very same. What, you think these good looks are an accident? It's all in the blood, friends."

"Who's Genji Demynix?" Qwid asked, looking puzzled.

"He's a true genius," Dantrag said, looking at Bongo as if seeing him for the first time. "I never suspected."

"The master!" Luma exclaimed. "Reknowned, a legend in his own time! And also a lover of wine and a cheater at cards."

"Nobody ever proved that," Bongo snapped.

"Genji was the greatest swordsmith of the last era, and perhaps the greatest Samurai as well. If not the best, he certainly trained some of the best." Hubby recited the facts with practiced ease. Everyone who studied the art of the Samurai in the last three decades learned about Genji at some point or another. "They say he could clip the wings off a gnat from fifty paces with an arrow, and cut a treant in two with a single stroke of his blade. He was the Samurai who introduced the way of the spear into standard combat training. I'd heard he had two sons, but I had no idea . . . "

"It's not a fact I put out there a lot," Bongo's voice was distant. Leaning down, he took hold of Qwid's arms and pulled the Tarutaru free from the cave, and all four stood upon the span of Horlais Peak. The view from the top went on for yalms beyond measure. They could see all of Fort Ghelsba and its outpost beneath them, and the entire expanse of Ronfaure beyond that. Stretching out from East Ronfaure, Bongo's sharp eyes could make out the Ranguemont Pass, the mountain trail which was the sole land route to the Northlands. Even there on the horizon, he could see distant snow-capped peaks which could only be Beaucedine Glacier. Further east from Ronfaure was the densely packed woodland of Jugner Forest, and Bongo was convinced that on a clear day, he would be able to see as far as Jeuno. They all paused to take in the incredible sight. Even with the darkened sky above, and the sight of San d'Oria below, there was no denying the breathtaking beauty of Vana'diel.

"From here," Luma's voice was solemn, "it's still so pretty."

No one said anything for a long moment. They simply basked in the truth of the Mithra's words.

Bongo drew in a cold breath, folding his arms over his chest into the folds of his leather jerkin. "Anyway," he continued, "I thought it was more important to make a name for myself. So I don't go touting my last name."

"But you called yourself Demyn?" Dantrag queried. "Isn't that a little on the nose?"

The Ranger shrugged. "Sometimes it's easiest to hide in plain sight. Everyone who knew my father's reputation assumed I was just one more person trying to emulate the master. Besides," he clarified, "Demyn was a name I earned."

"Alright," the Warrior replied, "I'll give you that. But what does your being Genji's son have to do with this place?"

Bongo took a long gaze into the distance. The wind whistled, breathing across the frozen surface of the mountain stream before them. Qwid gestured briefly with one hand, creating a bloom of heat which warded off the chill.

"This really is a beautiful view," the Hume said after a long moment. "I always cursed him for making it this difficult to come see her, but whenever I do make the trip I'm reminded of just why my father buried my mother in this spot."

Nobody spoke, though a ripple of surprise ran through the small fellowship. Bongo slowly raised his finger towards the banks of the stream. What looked like a random gathering of rocks leaning against the water was, upon closer inspection, a polished grave marker surrounded by smooth stones. Etched in its surface in a carefully written script was a simple epitaph.

"Tomoe Aizu Demynix - May Her Grace Light the Heavens."

Bongo paused in front of the stone, saying nothing as he stared down. Dantrag moved closer, but Luma snatched his arm, shaking her head. They remained still, watching the Ranger as he stood over his mother's grave.

"Hi, Mom," he chuckled, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's been too long, huh? I hope you've been alright. I know we don't talk very much anymore." His smile slowly faded as he spoke, drawing in a breath. "I'm sorry I haven't been to see you in so long. And I'm sorry I'll be gone for awhile after this, too." The Ranger sniffed, roughly rubbing his eyes with a leather-gloved hand. "I'm sorry I couldn't find Xaekid, Mom. I swear I never stopped looking."

"Xaekid?" Luma whispered. "What's that?"

"Bongo's younger brother," Dantrag answered quietly. "He almost never mentions him."

The Mithra tilted her head. "Aren't they close? Sibling rivalry, maybe?"

"Xaekid was killed," the Elvaan said simply. "He died during a battle against Orcs many years ago. Bongo spent years searching for a sign that he might have survived, but . . " The Warrior raised his head, looking at his friend with a pained expression. "Bongo's the best hunter in the Middle Lands. And he never found anything."

Luma lowered her head, white hair tumbling over her eyes. She remained silent as Bongo spoke again.

"Things are pretty bad, Mom," he continued, his voice wavering. "I'm not sure what to do. I'm not sure what will happen to me, or any of us. But, I've decided to fight, as hard as I can for as long as I can. I'm going to find out what caused this and make it right again. And if I can't . . . " he sniffed again, running a hand down over his face and then giving another brief chuckle. "If I can't, I'll see you and Xaekid again soon. Okay? So we'll win one way or the other."

Bongo bent his knee, leaning down into the frozen grass before the grave of Tomoe Demynix. From his side, he clutched the hilt of one of his daggers, pulling it out of the sheath with a metallic ringing sound.

"Bongo?" Hubby moved towards the Ranger as he raised the blade upwards, holding it over the stones. Then in a flash, he brought it down, directly into his mother's gravestone.

It sank into a hidden slot in the rock, and an audible click sounded through the mountaintop. Bongo stood, withdrawing his knife as the water in front of the grave began to bubble and froth. The others watched in amazement as he strode out into the pond, breaking through the thin autumn ice to wade into the water beneath. With a sound like shattering glass, a long box made of wood and encrusted with jade broke through to the surface. The Ranger wrapped his hands around its twin brass handles, wrenching it forth from the water and heaving it onto dry land. His feet and hands soaking, Bongo stepped out after it, once again leaning down to the ground and flipping open the latches sealing it shut.

The lid slid aside with the sound of wood grinding against wood. Gathering close around it, the others leaned in to see what was inside.

Resting against a velvet cushion lining the box, two great katanas lay embedded. Taking hold of the longer one, Bongo removed it from its rest. It had a long, flat blade of black steel, on a tightly wrapped grip with no crossguard. Slowly, he slid it onto his back, where it fit perfectly into a gap between the two quivers of arrows strapped across his shoulders. Once it was in place, he pulled out the other sword, a slim weapon still wrapped in its sheath.

"Hubby," Bongo said softly, "this was one of my father's swords. You're letting me use your bow," he indicated the short black-and-white Samurai bow by his side, "it's only fair I return the favor."

"One of Genji's katana?" His voice was almost reverent. Bongo gave a short laugh.

"This one is more of an heirloom, I think. Not my father's best work." He drew out the blade, showing it was chipped in several places. The Ranger slammed it back into the hilt. "Still, I'd prefer knowing it was in safe hands."

Hubby took hold of it, looking his friend square in the eye. "I'll do it honor," he promised.

"And I'll hold on to Hagun for the time being." The Ranger took another long look at the empty box in front of him before sliding the lid back, latching it shut once more. The weapon secure, he slid it back into the water. They watched as it slowly sank beneath the surface, bubbles rising to the top quickly at first, and then gradually diminishing as the box returned from whence it came.

Bongo watched it go, his eyes distant. He turned with a half-hearted smile when Dantrag clapped him on the shoulder. One final time, he wiped his eyes, frozen tears vanishing into the soil below.

"Well," the Ranger said, visibly shaking off whatever was on his mind, "I think it's time to get going."

"You're sure?" Hubby's tone was concerned.

He nodded, a smile breaking through. "Absolutely. Let's get a move on guys. It's time to find our friends."


When she had last been in the Imperial Throne Room of the Empress Nashmeira, Jinxie had been awed by the extravagant beauty of the palace. Even the simpler, far more confined Imperial Chamber held within it a quiet but pronounced power. No one who entered the enormous brass doors which led to the Empress could help but feel humbled by the aura of the palace itself. Jinxie had been no exception upon her first visit. Now she barely noticed her surroundings. They were unimportant, insignificant. Every second she spent here was one that could be out searching for her son.

But she couldn't, not yet. There were things that needed to be done, preparations to make, plans to conceive. She was trying to remain calm and think her way through things, but the thought of her defenseless baby in the hands of the Lamiae was just too much. It was all she could do to keep her focus on what was happening around her.

They had all gathered in the Imperial Chamber, in the presence of the Empress herself. The Imperial Puppetmaster, Aphmau, was there as well, with her two puppets Ovjang and Meijang. Razfahd had removed his corazza, returning to the more official robes of his office. All six Serpent Generals were together, Gadalar, Mihli, Najelith, Zazarg, Rughadjeen, and Kkel, with Pixel by the side of the latter. Not a single one of them wasn't sporting some sort of bandaging or poultice, yet they had managed to make it for this gathering. Isset and Speed stood behind Jinxie, and even Naja Salaheem and Abquhbuh had been allowed in. Conspicuously absent was Xaerus. The Mithra had not been seen since her battle against Medusa.

As much as she hated to admit it, she needed Xaerus now. Her riddles and secrets had grated on Jinxie since the beginning of their quest. Yet she had always been helpful in dealing with others in the Empire, especially Razfahd. Now, when she needed her the most, the blind woman was in the wind, with no clues as to her whereabouts. That left her alone to take on the Imperial Court.

She didn't want to do this. She wanted to go after her son. She wanted to make the Lamiae pay for taking him. She wanted to collapse to the floor and cry. But she couldn't. She had to remain strong. Thus she kept her back straight and her chin up, betraying as little as she could about what was in her heart as Razfahd began speaking.

"I do not know," he began, stepping before Nashmeira's dais, "if the turmoil in the Middle Lands is related to the individuals I have been working with, but I would not find it surprising to say the least."

"Razfahd," came a voice from behind the curtain, "tell us what you have done. Everything you know that might be of use."

The Grand Vizier's lip curled, but he still gave a perfunctory bow. "Yes, Empress, I was about to do so." Clasping his hands behind his back, the Imperial's eyes turned on Jinxie. "Roughly six years ago, I was approached here in the palace by a man who identified himself as Doshu."

"Doshu," Rughadjeen repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"Wait a minute," this time it was Najelith, the Hume woman reflectively staring up at the ceiling. "Doshu . . . there was a Doshu amongst my personal archers some years ago."

Razfahd turned his head to the Galeserpent. "What do you remember about him?"

She put a thoughtful hand against her chin, tapping her foot as she struggled to recall. "He was from the border cities, I remember. One of the outlying territories. A good shot, and ambitious, too. He was always willing to undertake dangerous assignments." Najelith paused, trying to think of anything else, but ultimately spread her hands. "He vanished several years back. We were defending the city from the Trolls, and after the fight he was nowhere to be found. I always assumed he'd been captured, or killed."

"If it is indeed the same man, then he has gone far beyond a simple soldier," Razfahd said darkly. "He exuded a presence I have not felt before. The power he wields now is frightening. He wears a ring and a cloak which appear crafted from the night itself, and holds a silver gun that I would swear had a life of its own."

Kkel gave a start. "Him!" The Blue Mage's hand went for his sword, only to realize that there were no weapons allowed in the Imperial District. Without a blade, he began exuding a blue aura instead. "That's the man in black I encountered in Quon. He's the one who tried to kill Pixel! You were working with him!" He lanced an accusatory finger at the Grand Vizier, eyes full of fire. "It was a set up after all!"

"Kkel, calm down!" Rugadjeen implored, stepping in front of the other Elvaan. Zazarg quickly moved behind him, ready to restrain the Sunserpent even as Gadalar began calling forth a fiery shield.

"Kkel," Pixel said, smiling up at him, "I want to hear what he has to say."

He looked down at the Bard, then to Razfahd's glaring eyes. Frowning, Kkel released his power, standing down. "Let's hear it, Razfahd." The other Serpent Generals all breathed a visible sigh of relief.

"I'll thank you for no further outbursts," the dark-eyed Grand Vizier said haughtily. "The facts are this. I knew nothing about any sort of attempt on your life, Sunserpent. The assignment I gave you was very real, though none of us have any reason to believe the Blue Mages you were sent to track down were not also in league with Doshu. His schemes are like a web carefully woven to catch as many insects as possible."

"What did he offer you?" It was Aphmau, the blonde-haired girl in red, sitting on a large pillow beside the Empress. The two puppets in her command stood languidly in front of her, facing towards the Grand Vizier. Razfahd's eyes drifted upwards, taking on a reflective state.

"He promised me an end to the beastmen raids upon our city. All I had to do was keep the Empire out of the affairs of the Middle Lands." He returned his imperious gaze to the others, not a hint of remorse showing. "I did as I was asked, recalling all of our ambassadors and scholars abroad. Sure enough, sieges against Al Zahbi dropped significantly as soon as the bargain was struck. I'm not sure how he did it, but he was able to keep the savages away from our Astral Candescence." Razfahd faced the gathering, his jaw stiffening. "No matter what else happened, the end of those attacks have saved countless Imperial soldiers and citizens over the last year. I have no regret for my actions."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Rughadjeen asked.

"That was the first and last time. Since then all of our dealings have gone through a surrogate - the man you saw prior to the attack, Chiz."

"So, fergive me, your Majesty, Grand Vizierrrr," Naja Salaheem stepped forward as she spoke. The diminuitive Mithra looked at a loss as to what to do with her hands without her crushing mace nearby. She continually shifted between having her hands clasped in front of her, folding her arms, or shoving them in her pockets. "I have to ask, what exactly was this Doshu fella's plan, anyway?"

Razfahd shrugged. "I only know that he required we remain away from the Middle Lands. The root of his scheming no doubt lies there."

"Whatever it was," Mihli Aliapoh mused, "it must have been, or perhaps still is, very delicate."

Eyes turned to face her. "How do you figure?" inquired Aphmau.

The Mithra's ears twitched as she thought. "This Doshu has obviously gone through a lot of trouble to do whatever it is he's doing. He's calculated things that could interrupt his plot and planned well in advance to neutralize them." She looked around the room, assessing each face in turn. "In making the Empire withdraw, he still planned to remove Kkel Solaar so as to weaken our military, just in case. Attacks on the city itself dwindled, but more and more beastmen have forced us to divert forces away from the capital to defend our outlying villages, even as the war in the Far East grows more intense. Knowing now that Doshu was likely dealing with the beastmen behind our back the entire time, it seems likely each new trouble was another layer of his scheme. In other words, just because he made sure the Empire wouldn't interfere right away didn't mean things would not change in the future, so he planned ahead to further bind us should the situation call for it."

"Sounds like a real character, this Doshu," Zazarg mused. "I wonder what else is going on because he's dipping his fingers into everyone else's business."

"We've got to find him," Kkel slapped a fist against an open palm, his expression resolute. "He's an enemy of the Empire. That's all the justification we need, not that we don't have plenty more."

"I recommend forming an expedition to the Middle Lands," Rughadjeen put forth. "We can begin planning immediately."

"But we can't know how long the beastmen scum will stay down," Gadalar protested. "Now's not the time to weaken our own defenses."

"Can we really let this criminal roam free?" Countered Najelith. "There must be an option which - "

"None of this is helping me find my son."

The conversation dropped immediately. All eyes fell to the center of the room, where Jinxie stood. She was shaking, her fists clenched tightly inside black gloves, eyes downcast as she held back her tears. Whether they were of sadness or rage or frustration she could not even tell herself anymore. Everyone else in the room looked away uncomfortably, save for Isset. The Puppetmaster laid a hand on Jinxie's shoulder, and she was instantly grateful for the support. Pushing back her emotions, she lifted her chin and stared down Razfahd and the others.

"My son." She stated simply. "We're going after him."

The Grand Vizier cleared his throat. "Yes . . . we will aid you however we can, but you can't expect . . . "

"They took my baby!" She screamed at Razfahd, advancing on him dangerously. It was impossible to deny the satisfaction of watching him flinch. "I lost my child to save your city and you're going to help me get him back."

"Of course," he said, trying and failing to sound unruffled. "However - "

"No, Razfahd. We will give her anything she requires."

The Hume staggered as if struck, then swiveled his head to face the curtain before Nashmeira. The Empress was sitting with her back straight, looking directly at her Grand Vizier. Razfahd turned and looked at Aphmau, but the blond girl only shrugged. Clearly restraining anger, he cleared his throat as he addressed the ruler of the Empire.

"Your Majesty," he began, "I realize we must repay the Bastokan, but surely apprehending Doshu - "

"You will do as I command," her voice took everyone in the room aback. "The full resources of Urghuum will be at Jinxie's disposal." Razfahd opened his mouth, but was cut off immediately. "This, I command!"

The Grand Vizier worked his jaw, but no sound came out. From her pillow, Aphmau giggled, and her two puppets hid their faces.

"Thank you, Empress Nashmeira," Jinxie breathed, bowing her head. "But I don't . . . I don't know where to start . . ."

And then a powerful presence asserted itself before her. She looked up to see the calming blue eyes of Kkel Solaar giving her a reassuring gaze. He smiled at her, and then turned to address the Empress.

"Your Majesty, if I may," he asked.

"Of course, Sunserpent."

He nodded. "We know Drake was taken by the Lamiae. We have no reason to believe they would not return to their home in Caedarva Mire."

"It's true," Najelith confirmed. "None of our forest scouts reported seeing any of them venturing away from their normal path home as they retreated."

The Elvaan nodded. "A full military strike against the Mire would be costly and ill-advised, but so would sending Jinxie in when the Lamiae will no doubt be on full alert. Therefore, I recommend we distract them while she and a small team insert themselves unseen to find Medusa and recover her son."

"Distract them how?" Razfahd queried. "And whom would take on this role?"

"Pixel and myself, naturally," he gave a wry smirk, and Pixel smiled at the Grand Vizier. "As for how, I've got a plan." He turned to the other Serpent Generals, and they each took a step closer. "I'll need each of you to handpick some soldiers for me. Once that's done I'll lead a series of assaults against the Lamiae's main outposts. Periqia, Ilrusi Atoll, and Leujaoam Sanctum. Using the Runic Portal, I should be able to practically be in all three places at once."

"This will force the Lamiae to move their attention in three different directions. With the bulk of their army distracted, Jinxie and a small team can move in undetected," Pixel followed up on Kkel's thinking. "It should be no problem at all for her to confront Medusa and take her son back."

"I know she can do it," Isset confirmed, "and I'm with her all the way." Shoki leaped up at the proclamation, spinning in the air.

"Rrright," Naja said, "and Speed, you're going, too."

"Wha? Where? Oh." The Warrior sighed, hooking his thumbs over his pockets. "Alright, alright."

"Lady Naja, will two mercenaries really be enough?" Abquhbuh pushed his glasses up his nose, fretting. The Mithra took on a speculative look, tugging at one of her brown ponytails.

"You're right, Abquhbuh. Jinxie, I'm going to find some more help for you. I've got two people in mind. I'll have them ready as soon as I nail their sorry hides down."

Jinxie took a deep breath. "Thank you, Naja."

"Then it is settled," proclaimed Nashmeira. "Begin making preparations immediately. We will not fail!"

The small crowd converged, plans being spoken at a rapid pace from all sides. The general chatter became a dull roar in the small Imperial Chamber. Kkel conversed with the Serpent Generals. Razfahd shared a hushed exchange with Aphmau. Isset and Naja discussed mercenary options with Abquhbuh. For a moment, Jinxie was left alone in her thoughts.

They were going to go after Drake. Everyone was willing to help her, as much as she needed. She would have the opportunity to lead the quest to rescue her son personally. Nashmeira, Naja, Isset, they were all placing a lot of faith in her. They believed in her.

As the talk swirled around her, she wondered how they would feel if they knew she had lost all her power.

Chapter LVI: The Dragoon in Hell

Aboroth could still remember better times.

Amongst the walking dead filling the caverns of hell, he knew he was unique in that aspect. His memories still held ground in the vast expanse of desolation the depths had become. While the others moved with the clunky, awkward movements of those held aloft only by the strings pushing their minds forward, he still had the presence of mind to recall what life had been like before coming here. Before Devul, before the demons, before the Mithra who had stolen their identities, Aboroth had been someone else.

He remembered growing up with his younger brother in Windurst. He could still see the verdant trees and lush greenery which filled the city, and the rolling hills of Sarutabaruta where he had spent a youth in curious exploration of the vast landscape. He could hear the pealing laughter of his younger brother as they wiled away the days, exploring the wonders of the open grassland, delving into the ancient ruins, or simply enjoying the music during Windurst’s Summer Festival. Even when he had gone away, bidding farewell to his friends and family to pursue a holy life in the Far East, he had kept those memories in every dream and fond fantasy.

It was during his time in the monastery when, during daily hymns, the head Monk of the temple realized his true gift, and helped him draw it forth. Aboroth’s voice was one naturally gifted in the use of the spellsong. Through the years he spent honing his body, the Monks also taught him to focus his voice and the power held within. He knew that his younger brother possessed natural gifts with magic, but he never would have guessed similar ability had been passed down to him. The Galka earnestly learned all he could, the kindly Monks happy to have such an eager pupil. After spending nearly a decade abroad, now firm of mind and body, Aboroth returned home. His welcome was among the best memories of his life. Truly, he had been blessed.

Scarcely two weeks had passed before a messenger arrived at the modest home of his family. Some minor San d’Orian nobleman, having heard of the amazing voice of this Galka from Windurst, sought to have Aboroth perform some Far Eastern music at a gathering of aristocrats. The Galka was still a Monk above all, and sworn to a vow of poverty, but the gil being offered would be a great boon for his family, and the continued studies of his little brother. With those thoughts in mind, Aboroth bid his family another temporary farewell and boared an airship bound for Jeuno. He had plenty of time to reach San d’Oria, and planned to enjoy the natural surroundings of Jugner Forest by riding a chocobo out from Jeuno to the Elvaan capital.

Then came the darkness, the wind, and the blood rage. The ground opened beneath him, engulfing him in a tomb’s embrace. He came into the presence of the Devul, and the scarred Mithra. His happy memories became a torment as it was made clear the life he used to live was over. The spellsong which once brought peace and tranquility to others had been twisted to hideous ends.

Now when he sang, it was to perpetuate the horror he had been drawn in to.

He had tried to fight it, at first. His mind was too strong for him to become another slave like the thoughtless drones the Mithra demanded. While he remained conscious of his actions and surroundings, he could still not overpower the force of the whisper in his thoughts. When it spoke, he responded. He simply couldn’t help himself. So Aboroth sang, and the people ensnared in the bowels of hell listened to what he said. Amplified by the dark power controlling his own actions, his voice now bade others to sleep, to work, and to obey. His was the voice that controlled the free will of those in Devul’s realm, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself.

Just as now, he could not keep his feet from marching one in front of the other as the procession behind him carried Shaohuan to her execution.

Work around them had ceased as those entranced by his call shuffled from their stations to bear witness. The dais bearing Devul once again crept by, borne on the scarred shoulders of a cadre of slaves. The Tarutaru sat indolently atop his throne, seemingly oblivious to the lavish attention being given him by the girls of his harem, they themselves completely detached from their own actions. Of all the hundreds of damned lurking through the endless caverns, only one was in control of both mind and body. That one stood behind Devul’s throne, mutilated body hidden within the shadowy confines of her sickly green cloak. Even through the darkness around them and the thick folds of her garment, Aboroth could still see the glint of her smile.

Beneath her feet, hands shackled before her, dressed in only the filthiest rags, Shaohuan sat with head bowed. Aboroth knew Shaohuan was also one in control of her own thoughts, but not actions. Unlike him, she had not undergone years of rigorous training to achieve enlightened focus. She had no special predisposition that would explain her being spared the fate Aboroth suffered. There was no reason at all she should not be another thoughtless slave like the others. The Monk knew the explanation. Shaohuan remained aware because the Mithra wanted her to suffer. Whatever reasons she had for that cruel twist, Aboroth did not know.

He considered it a blessing at this point that her life was about to end. It would not be much longer until her torment came to an end.

They continued on their march, towards the main cavern. Now clearly emerging from the rock face they had hewn for so long was an effigy of some enormous Galka. The Mithra’s grand construct was nearly complete.

“Stop,” a voice commanded, and universally all action around them ceased. Only the distant echoing of water dripping into stagnant pools could be heard.

Shaohuan stood, head still down, and began walking as the slaves lowered the dais down. Devul’s eyes flickered momentarily, but then returned to their dull state. The Hume girl strode forward without interruption. Compelled by the same voice which drove them all on, she stopped only when she was but a few feet from the rock wall. She cast her gaze upwards at its enormity, saying nothing. Behind her, the Mithra stood on the stony ground, her hand outstretched in waiting. She had not long to wait before what she sought was delivered to her. Aboroth’s sad grimace sank even lower as he saw what it was the woman now wielded.

The double-pronged spear Ryu Akanei had brought with him was now clutched in her sharply nailed hands.

“Yes,” the Mithra purred, “this shall do perfectly. Yes indeed.” The malice in her voice would have sent a shiver through Aboroth’s spine had he control over his own movements. The Dragoon had fallen under the spell just as the rest of them had, but he fought it off and succeeded. Now his weapon was kept as a trophy. Worse than that, Aboroth knew. It was to be used for the execution of the one who helped him break free. Lowering the polearm to face the captive Shaohuan, the Mithra’s lips curled back. Aboroth could not turn his head away, as much as he wanted to. All present in hell would bear witness to what was going to happen now.

“The time has come, my loyal subjects,” Devul mouthed, unaware he was even saying anything. “Your hard work has come to an end.” He spread his hands in what was meant to be a magnanimous gesture. The way his arms held in the air, suspended like a marionettes’, made the motion eerily disturbing.

“This faithless one would drive us from the true path,” he continued, now twisting his head towards where Shaohuan stood, still facing the enormous Galkan idol. “but now she will serve our purpose instead.”

Shaohuan gasped as two slaves suddenly grabbed her arms under the crook of the elbow. Holding her steady, they lifted her into the air as she began to thrash about defiantly, the green-cloaked Mithra leveling Ryu’s spear as she advanced. Aboroth realized that now, in her last moments, control over her body had been returned to the young girl. His stomach turned. The Mithra wanted her to struggle in her last moments. She wanted to enjoy the kill.

“Your death serves a far greater purpose than it deserves, you wretched Thief,” the Mithra hissed as she advanced on the helpless girl. “You should be honored I found purpose for you at last.”

Shaohuan spit in her direction, furiously struggling against the burly Elvaan guards holding her in place. “I’ll die knowing you were never better than me,” she snarled. “and you’ll live knowing that’s the truth.”

The Mithra’s smile twisted into a bitter snarl. “You were never better than me, you miserable bitch!” her knuckles turned white against the shaft of Ryu’s spear. “You were never anything but a petty Thief! Look at what I am! Look what I have become!”

Tearing back the hood of her cloak, the Mithra revealed the hideous scarring covering the left side of her face. Intricately carved lines formed patterns reaching from scalp to shoulder, and, Aboroth knew, stretching down as far as her wrist as well. He quivered inwardly as he saw what the woman had done to herself. Then his attention was torn away. Behind Shaohuan, something was happening to the rock face.

It was subtle, barely even perceptible, but the expression of the great stone Galka was changing. The lines in the face were becoming more pronounced. The eyes were deepening. A pall of darkness began to emanate from the monstrous carving. The lines decorating the Mithra’s skin reacted, and Shaohuan gasped as a sickly purple light began shining beneath her adversary’s skin.

“I am so much more than what I was,” the Mithra said, and Aboroth felt it being whispered in the back of his mind. “You are nothing, Shaohuan. You die as nothing.”

The Mithra thrust Ryu’s spear forward. Shaohuan flinched and turned away. Aboroth struggled to close his eyes, but could not. His stomach clenched as he anticipated the scream.

It was not the one he had expected.

The azure streak in the air moved so quickly Aboroth wasn’t sure he had seen anything at all. The Mithra’s shriek of surprise was the only hint of its physical presence after its first pass, but then it came again. There was the flapping of leathery wings, and a beastial snarl. The guards holding Shaohuan dropped the girl and began snatching at the air as the scarred Mithra swung Ryu’s spear futilely, trying to make contact with the screeching object.

“What is this?!” the Mithra demanded, slashing at the air in front of her. Again the blue swirl struck, evading the guards and sending them careening into one another. There was a ferocious howl, and the source of the disruption settled in one place long enough to be discerned.

It was the blue-scaled wyvern of Ryu Akanei.

The Mithra let out a guttural sound of fury, slashing at the airborne lizard. It deftly evaded her clumsy strikes, letting loose a tongue of flame in response. Howling, the Mithra leaped back to avoid the fiery attack. Even as she did so, the wyvern swooped in, wrapping its claws around the shaft of its master’s weapon. The Mithra snarled, wrestling for control of the spear. With a mighty heave, she succeeded in fending off the wyvern’s attack, but no sooner had it released the weapon than it fired out another blast of liquid fire. Then, as suddenly as it had attacked, the creature was gone.
“After it!” the Mithra shouted, and Aboroth felt his legs moving in response to the behest. “Find that monster and kill it on sight!” She was fuming, angrier than Aboroth had ever seen her before. The pulsating glow beneath her scars had turned a ruddy red, and her eyes blazed with uncontained rage.

It paled in comparison to her reaction when she saw Shaohuan had escaped.


Shaohuan’s eyes darted furtively back and forth. The room was completely dark, and there was a hand pressed tightly over her mouth. A powerful grasp held her arms behind her. She tried to toss her head back, but was held firm. All she could tell is that she was moving, rapidly, back into the darkness. Where she was being carried to, she could not tell.

Abruptly, her flight halted. The Thief tumbled to the ground, feeling the cool, damp stone beneath her bare hands and knees as she was released. Panicked, she spun around, and then froze when a large hand grasped her shoulder. Before she could cry out, a finger pressed against her lips, bidding her to remain silent.

“We’re not so far away yet that they won’t hear you,” a voice whispered. “I need you to stay calm, Shaohuan.”

The girl’s surprise was visible as her eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to make out the rudimentary features of a face framed by dark brown hair, with eyes gleaming like those of a dragon.

“Ryu!” she whispered intensely. “But I saw you fall!”

“Please,” he scoffed, “I could handle falls from twice that height when I was still a trainee.” They both turned as the sound of nails clicking on rock tapped gently behind them. The air lit up as Ryu’s wyvern gave a mewling cry.

“It’s alright, Bo,” Ryu said comfortingly. “I didn’t think she’d give it up so easily. That’s fine.” He turned back to Shaohuan. His eyes gave a soft glow in the darkness, and she knew he could see everything perfectly.

“After I freed myself, I went looking for my armor,” he told her. “Most of it was in the room they put me in, but the gauntlets and my helmet are still missing. Do you know where they took them?”

The brunette girl nodded. “I saw the Mithra take them to Devul’s chamber. I don’t know if she wanted to use them or just keep them as trophies.”

Ryu took the information in, leveling his gaze at Shaohuan. His eyes were intense, but steady. “I’ve picked up that you might be a Thief of some reknown, Shao,” he spoke in a calming voice. “Is there any truth to that?”

Shaohuan’s expression immediately changed. “Truth?” she asked indignantly. “I’m the best Thief from San d’Oria to Bastok. There’s not a village in Quon that doesn’t know about me.”

“I see,” Ryu appraised, “but that Mithra isn’t from Quon, is she?”

Shaohuan took a deep breath in through her nose. “Mindartian slime,” her whisper was a harsh rasp. “She was nothing when we first met. She’d taken to robbing Beastmen over people. I was barely a teenager and I was already better than her.”

“And now?”

Shaohuan looked up defiantly. “I don’t know what that woman has become, or how it happened, but I am ten times the Thief she will ever be.”

The Dragoon nodded approvingly. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he told her. “She stole my armor from me, Shaohuan. And I want you to steal it back.”

Shaohuan stood, bending her back so as not to scrape against the low ceiling of the cavern Ryu had taken her to. “You’re going after her, aren’t you?”

“She has something that belongs to me.” He began stepping backwards, back into the darkness surrounding them. “Let’s she how well she fares against someone thinking clearly.”


There was a steady beating of feet behind Aboroth told the story of the dozens of soldiers fanning out into the caverns around them. The whispering in their heads was more urgent than it had ever been. Find the wyvern and kill it, and bring its broken corpse back as proof. Find Shaohuan and break her legs at the knee, then drag her back to finish what had been started. Aboroth would do both if he found either one without question. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

One order was not in his mind. It seemed the Mithra did not want to even acknowledge the idea that the wyvern being alive could mean his master survived as well.

The Galka crept down a darkened tunnel, focusing his chi towards his eyes as he had been trained. His vision remained sharp as he traveled onwards. The trickle of energy was all that was allowed to him, but it was enough for him to hunt with. The elders of his monastery would be shamed by such manipulation of their teachings. Had he the ability, he would have hung his head.

He felt his feet stop beneath him, and he knew something was happening.

Suddenly, to his left, a cry shattered the stillness. He could feel the worms in his mind shift their attention instantly. Another surprised shout echoed around him, and the sound of steel scraping against stone was cut off in mid-stroke. The Monk shifted his stance in response to the silent orders racing through his mind. His legs began moving towards the source of the disturbance.

A moment later however, another cry rang out. This time, it came from the opposite direction of the first one. The sounds of a struggle were clear. Aboroth clearly heard the sound of rippling flames, the same one he had heard when the wyvern attacked the Mithra earlier. He was drawn out towards the diverging point where he had broken off from the rest. A plethora of tunnel mouths opened up in front of him. His head turned down towards the one where he had heard the last round of screams.

He felt the power of the spellsong rise up in his throat as he brought up his fists. A dim light flickered in the cavern in front of him, and a snort broke the tense silence. The wyvern was down that tunnel, watching Aboroth approach. His fists tightened, robes sliding down to his elbows as he turned his stance into a defensive one. The steel lining his knuckles gave a dull glint as a spot of fire flashed briefly in the distance.

A team of Elvaan guardsmen rushed out from one tunnel, guided on by the force which saw through Aboroth’s eyes. The former soldiers drew out their weapons, charging wordlessly into the cave mouth to face down the beast. Almost immediately, a jet of fire shot out from within, casting enough light to see the glimmering scales of the wyvern clearly. The men shouted out as they tried to avoid the flames, and then swung their weapons about blindly as darkness returned. A single breath of fire had taken any adjustment their eyes had made to the darkness. The wyvern was crafty.

Not crafty enough to be in two places at once, Aboroth knew, when he heard the sounds of a struggle from behind him.

He twisted around, and even as he did so he ducked out of the way in response to the blur at the edge of his vision. The blue wyvern sped out from the cavern, two of the Elvaan guards chasing after it. Aboroth’s hands immediately made to grab for it, but then stopped, or was bade to stop. A body had just been flung out of one of the other tunnels. This one was a normal villager, his weapons gone, laying unconscious on the cave floor.

There was a hushed moment as the guiding power behind the whisper contemplated this development. A moment later, a mass of humanity came pouring out from the other tunnels as her slaves rushed towards the cavern the body had come from. Soldiers and millworkers, carpenters and blacksmiths, farmers and weavers, all of them tools now to crush the source of the challenge to the whisper’s power.

Aboroth knew who it was. The whisper refused to acknowledge his thoughts.

Ryu Akanei was alive.

The heel of Ryu’s armored boot struck an armored Elvaan in the ribs, and he slumped to the ground in a heap. In the blink of an eye, the Dragoon leaped back into the darkness, just out of their range of vision. More and more of the Mithra’s slaves were pouring in to the tunnel, further blotting out any light coming in. It would be getting more and more difficult for the puppeteer to see through the eyes of her marionettes. Ryu, on the other hand, had the eyes of a dragon.

Darkness was his ally in this fight. The cavern grew even more crowded, and once again he sped from his hiding place. A scullery maid found herself picked bodily from the ground and hurled back into the advancing mass. The confusion threw them off balance, and while they struggled, another Elvaan was caught unawares. With a leap, Ryu planted his legs in the chest of the soldier, and then propelled himself away. Ryu’s muscle power threw the man off his feet, knocking the air from his lungs. Quickly as he had come, the Dragoon was gone again.

The confused mass straightened out mechanically. Eyes twisted in every direction, searching for their intended target. After a few disorderly moments, they spread out in different directions. Some went further down the darkened crevase, others back out the way they had come. A circle remained in place, heads twisting in disturbing unison.

“Come out, Dragoon,” one of them said, his eyes showing he was unaware of what his mouth was doing. “This is my realm to play with. The Devul is my pawn. Hell is mine, and the Lord of Dynamis will give me the rest when I bring him back into this world.”

Nothing stirred. Outside, the sounds of footsteps echoed.

“You cannot stop me, Dragoon,” another slave intoned. “Surrender yourself to his embrace. The darkness is mine. Give your mind to the darkness.”

There was a quick burst of motion, and all heads in the circle converged on a single point. The ring of slaves stood broken. A moment later, an unconscious body fell to the ground. A nervous murmer ran through the assemblage, a reaction wholly that of the one controlling them.

“Give this up!” Another demanded. “You’re a fool to think you can fight us – “

The words were cut off as a blue streak took the speaker in the ribs, catapulting it against the rocky wall. Leathery wings echoed through the cavern and then went silent.

“I demand you show yourself!” The voice reeked of something bordering on fear. “Where are you!?”

A burst of flame answered the cry. The cave lit up as Ryu dropped down from the vaulted roof, Bo’s wings extended behind him as the wyvern followed him down. The slaves were stunned by the sudden attack, and as Dragoon and wyvern fell upon them they were helpless to defend themselves. Ryu was a furious blur of motion, and Bo no less so. His fists moved with practiced precision, striking one opponent down with a forward thrust as he simultaneously backhanded another. Bo looped around a clumsy dive, headbutting his assailant with crushing force. Wyvern swooped down low, diving underneath Ryu as he jumped, taking the legs out from an approaching slave as Ryu delivered a kick to the Elvaan’s face. The two moved as one, a united mind that the whisper could not take hold in. Against such an assault, the voice could not coordinate a response. Within moments, there was a blind spot in its vision.

Ryu took no time to admire his handiwork. He prepared to blend in to the darkness once again. He had to keep this up until he drew the Mithra herself out.

Before he could jump to a spot of safety, however, a flash of light surged into the cavern. Bo cried out as a ball of pure chi energy struck the Dragoon full on. Ryu was torn from his feet as the blast surged through his body. He felt his spirit being rent down to the core as the ground came up at him. Bo swooped down to his side, screeching a cry of panic as the Dragoon convulsed. The light from the chi blast began fading from the cavern walls, leaving a blend of spots in Ryu’s eyes. Some came from the pain, others from the sudden loss of vision. Tiny dots swam across his eyes as he gasped, fingers scratching at the rocks as he tried to regain his footing.

An enormous shadow appeared in front of the cavern. Aboroth, hands still coursing with released energy, let out a slow breath as he lowered his arms.

“I am truly sorry, Ryu Akanei,” Aboroth said mournfully, “I cannot control myself.”

“You can fight,” Ryu had to stop to cough, pain wracking his body. “fight her, Aboroth. You’re still in control of your mind.”

A note escaped Aboroth’s lips, and the Galka closed his eyes as the melody swept over him. Ryu watched the power of the spellsong in action as a reddish glow, like a dim fire burning through his flesh, crept across the Galka as he sang. Veins began bulging in his arms, and his muscles bulged. Ryu could see the fabric of the Galka’s robe stretching as his mass increased; hear bones cracking as they set themselves to accomadate new pressure. Aboroth opened his eyes, body emanating power as he raised knuckles surmounted by cold steel.

“I am quite in control,” he agreed, “to my eternal regret, she lets me remain aware of everything this treacherous body does.”

Dust flew up at the Monk’s heels as he sprinted towards the Dragoon, who had only just managed to make it off the ground. Instantly, Bo put himself between them, snapping tiny, razor sharp teeth at the Galka. Aboroth swung at Bo with bone-breaking force, intent on shattering the tiny beast. Bo, however, was too quick even for the Monk, keeping just out of range of each strike, darting in just long enough to make stinging attacks of his own.

Ryu and Bo’s minds worked as one, seeing every vulnerable point Aboroth left exposed, analyzing his attacks with twice the speed. As Bo fought, Ryu watched. The wyvern let his wings go slack, dropping to the ground. Aboroth lunged, and Bo suddenly caught himself, swooping back up to narrowly miss grazing the Monk’s face with his claws. Ryu, waiting for the right moment, lunged forward and sank his fist into Aboroth’s kidney. The bones in his hands felt like they were broken. He recoiled with a wince of pain, but it didn’t seem all that much of a worry after Aboroth violently backhanded him across the face.

He could feel his jaw rattle loose as he skitted out of the tunnel and into the larger cavern outside. The element of darkness was gone, the glowing moss of the caves providing the same unnerving light he had worked by for what felt like weeks. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. Bo’s sense of outrage filled him, and even as Aboroth turned after the Dragoon, his partner pressed the attack.

Needle-like teeth sank into Aboroth’s shoulder, and the Galka writhed as blood began trickling down his ivory skin. With a titanic hurl, he forced Bo away, smashing his fists into the wyvern. Bo blew himself away from the attack with all the strength his wings could muster, and Aboroths’ hands struck only stone. Fissures appeared in the rock wall, a maze of cracks stemming off of them. He withdrew his hands to reveal knuckle-shaped indentations marring the smooth stone. Implacably, he struck at Bo again.

Ryu continued his struggle to shake off the pain and rise as Bo kept Aboroth busy. The other slaves wouldn’t be coming back now, Ryu was sure of that. He knew without a doubt now that the Mithra could only project broad orders with her perverse power, the actual control came down to her manipulation of Aboroth’s voice. Now she was focusing all her attention on controlling the Monk himself. If he could win here, she would have no choice but to risk a direct confrontation.

He stood, gasping as he did so. There was great power in the armor Bahamut had given him. Individually, however, the suit of mail, greaves, and brais he had recovered seemed only a fraction of what all five pieces together were capable of. He had to trust Shaohuan would not fail him.

His hopes for holding out long enough sank as Aboroth focused his chi into his fist.

Bo charged in, now practiced at avoiding the Galka’s strikes, but Aboroth was through playing. With a howl that could have blown the tunnel apart, the Monk released the power stored in his fist in one terrific blow. A cascade of energy erupted through the cavern, and Bo cried out as it struck him full on. It crackled through the air, illuminating the tunnel with white and gold. The wyvern was like a leaf in a hurricane, sent hurtling through the air and down the tunnel as his tiny body was assailed by Aboroth’s Howling Fist. With a final shriek, Bo vanished down the dark depths of the winding cavern and did not return. Aboroth’s head slowly turned, and his attention fell back on Ryu.

“She doesn’t even let me cry,” he said, looking at the Dragoon struggling to keep upright outside. “I cannot apologize anymore than I have, Ryu Akanei.” Even as he spoke, he was walking towards Ryu, energy like lightning crackling off his skin. “I can’t even promise to end it quickly.”

Aboroth’s fists rocketed into the ground as Ryu leaped away, the stone splintering beneath the Galka’s strike. Faster than Ryu would have expected, Aboroth swung again, the wind from his blow strong enough to slice a fresh cut in the Dragoon’s cheek. Relentlessly, the Monk rained blow after blow towards his target. Even one more would finish him, of that Ryu was certain.

The Monk could not be deterred. A punch grazed Ryu’s side, and the impact nearly tore him from the ground. He arched backwards, avoiding a follow up that sought to tear his head from the shoulders. Planting his hands on the ground behind him, the Dragoon sprung up, flipping away from a crushing overhead strike meant to rip him in two. He came up near a wall, and then immediately dove to the side as Aboroth’s foot turned a stone surface into a shower of dust and pebbles. The Galka tore his leg free from the wall without pause. Ryu could see the aura of the Monk growing only stronger as he continually gathered his might and amplified it through the spellsong. He had only moments left before the end.

A fist came streaking straight for his unprotected face, and he knew he could not get out of the way in time.

“Ryu!”

Both he and Aboroth turned in reaction to the voice. The Galka was thrown completely off balance, and his killing blow grazed the Dragoon, steel knuckles scraping the surface of his skin. Ryu was so shocked he almost didn’t register the objects being thrown at him until it was too late. Moving more on impulse than anything, he snatched them out of the air, and then gaped at what he held.

Shaohuan stood in the circular entrance to the larger tunnel mouth which led back to the great stone Galka. In Ryu’s hands, his clawed gauntlets stared back at him.

“She has the helmet with her, Ryu!” the Thief called down at him. “This was all I could find!”

“Shaohuan!!” Aboroth shouted. “Escape before she takes a hold of you, too!” Already he was rising, but his body seemed unsure of what to do. Shaohuan froze as well, the possibility occurring to her. It seemed the Mithra was wrestling with her options as well, unwilling to divide her attention away from Aboroth before Ryu was finished.

The Hume took advantage of the moment and slipped his gauntlets on. They wrapped around him like a second skin. The steel claws on the end became like extensions of his fingers. They interlocked with the rest of the armor perfectly. A surge of purplish light emitted from the gauntlets as they bonded with the rest of Bahamut’s mail. A power Ryu had not felt in quite some time rushed through his body, filling his muscles with might. It was the same sensation he had felt weeks earlier, when Bahamut had first given him the magnificent armor.

He turned his eyes on Aboroth, and clenched his fingers. The strength of a dragon coursed through him.

Ryu didn’t wait for the Mithra to form a plan of action. He simply rushed in at full speed and hammered his now-armored fist into Aboroth’s gut.

The Galka doubled over in the air as Ryu’s attack ripped his feet from the ground. The Dragoon continued forward, running with the Monk on the edge of his fist, not stopping until he slammed him into the wall opposite them. Aboroth pulled himself free, but Ryu’s fist was there to meet him. The Galka’s head bounced back as the blow took him across the chin. He rolled free, and Ryu knew that as long as the Mithra was pulling the strings, his body would move as long as it was able. Ryu clenched his fists again as Aboroth came forward.

The Monk unleashed a shattering double punch which could have brought down a building. It whistled through the air, screaming down towards Ryu. The Dragoon’s own hand shot up, and with a bell-like ring of metal on metal, the Hume caught the Galka’s fist in his palm. Pain like lightning shot down his arms all the way to his shoulder, but the Dragoon did not give up his ground. The enormous Galka stood pressing down upon him, both of their legs pushing with such might that the stone started to buckle beneath them.

Ryu and Aboroth locked eyes. The Dragoon’s burned as his arms started to shake under the might of the Galka’s hulking fists. Strands of brown hair stuck to Ryu’s face with sweat. Blood dripped down from Aboroth’s face as his grit his teeth. The air rippled and cracked around them as both struggled to overpower the other. Rocks on the ground began to quake as the force of their struggle rocked the cavern itself.

Ryu Akanei closed his hands around Aboroth’s fists. The steel knuckles he wore broke in half along with most of the bones in the Galka’s hands. Aboroth pulled away, lacking even the ability to cry out in pain, but had no way to defend as Ryu’s fist rocketed into his exposed cheek.

The Galka wavered on his feet for a moment, the force animating him desperately seeking something to keep ahold of. It found nothing. Like a fallen oak, Aboroth sank to his knees.

“Thank you, Ryu Akanei,” Aboroth muttered through his broken jaw. “Thank you.”

The monstrous Galka collapsed to the ground, his fall echoing throughout the cavern.

Ryu watched him fall, panting, and a moment later he joined the Galka on the ground.

“Ryu!” A voice called out, and the Dragoon heard two feet tap down against the ground. The cavern itself had been devastated by their battle. Shaohuan ran towards the Dragoon across shattered stone and broken rock, steaming cracks spidering their way across the ground even after the battle had concluded.

The Thief knelt down over Ryu, gasping when she saw the bright trail of blood dripping from his mouth and ears. To Ryu’s eyes, it looked like three of the slim young girl was perched over him, and her voice was a distant noise to the roaring in his skull. He tried to wave her away, but she wouldn’t budge. It took what little focus Ryu had left to block her out and concentrate.

Shaohuan jumped up with a start as Bo streaked directly in front of her, coming down with a dust-stirring beating of his wings to the side of his comrade. The wyvern gave a plaintive cry at the sight of Ryu’s condition.

“We’re almost finished. Just one last push. I need your strength, friend,” Ryu thought, and he could hear the wyvern’s thoughts in turn. They were unfiltered emotions, but still understood by the Dragoon. He slowed his breathing with great effort. Bo stretched his wings out to their fullest, lowering his head down over his link to the world of man.

A burning azure light came to life from within Bo himself. The wyvern closed its large, liquid eyes, and the glow intensified, now spreading to Ryu’s body as well. Shaohuan watched with wide eyes as Bo became the light itself, a shimmering aura of energy hanging in the air. Ryu was glowing now as well, his every fiber reacting to what Bo was doing.

Shaohuan stepped back in surprise as Ryu’s body lifted off the ground on its own. The light which Bo had become was now sinking into the Dragoon’s prostrate body. Wings, teeth, claws, scales, all turned into pure energy, pure spirit, sank into Ryu’s being. The air suddenly rushed in around the duo, and a surge of light and sound erupted from the Hume’s incandescent form. Shaohuan shielded her eyes as the tapping of metal boots against stone caught her ears.

“We are one,” Ryu said aloud, and in his voice there was something else. Something powerful and beastial trailing behind every word. His eyes were metallic glints, and his lips tightened into a snarl. The air around him was electric with energy as it crackled off of his armor. Shaohuan’s hair practically stood on end as the Dragoon turned her eyes towards her.

“Where . . . where did the wyvern go?” Shaohuan asked, dumbfounded.

Ryu tapped his chest with two bladed fingers. “For a short time only, but we will not need much more. The sum of our parts is greater than the individual.”

“Ryu?” Shaohuan said, and there was something else in her voice now as well. “Ryu, I – I can’t move my legs, Ryu.”

The Dragoon snapped his head around with a growl from deep in his throat. The Mithra’s scarred visage stared back angrily at him. She held Mezraq in her hands. Beneath the folds of her green cloak, something dark and purple was hanging from her belt.

“That’s right,” she said in her manipulative whisper, “and I’ll fill it with your skull before I’m through.”

“Let Shaohuan go,” his demand was accented by the monstrous snarl behind it, “I won’t give you another chance.”

“She cannot help but obey me,” the scarred woman countered, a dull but visible glow emanating from beneath her cloak. “I have been gifted by my dark lord. I don’t need the Galka to dominate a single person.”

Ryu’s fingers arched like a wyvern’s claws. His eyes narrowed as he growled at the woman.

“If you make her fight me, I’ll just knock her out like I did to Aboroth,” he told her menacingly, “and if you try to do anything to her, I’ll just kill you.”

“I have your weapon, Dragoon,” she countered, tightening her grip around the spear. “After I kill you with it, I will sacrifice that worthless little girl on my own terms. Until then, she will wait patiently for me at the base of my creation, won’t you, Shaohuan?”

Ryu could see Shaohuan was already walking, moving towards the tunnels leading back to the great stone Galka visage carved in the stone wall. Her eyes darted about desperately, but her actions were under the control of the Mithra once again.

“What do you want her for?” Ryu demanded.

“The Lord of the Nightmare World is still trapped because of his spiritual bonds to Dynamis,” the Mithra told him. “But I will help him slip those chains, and turn all of hell into a new body for him to inhabit, a body he will use to dominate Vana’diel for all time!”

“I’m going to show you what hell really means.”

Before she could even raise Mezraq in defense, Ryu’s leap took him like an arrow from a bow into the Mithra. They tumbled one over the other down one of the darkened tunnels, falling into the unseen depths below.

The pair landed simultaneously. Ryu deftly crouched down at the end of the jump, the armor in his legs absorbing the impact completely. The Mithra simply bounded from rock to rock, finally touching down with her feet in a pool of water on the cavern floor, bearing Mezraq in front of her like a ward. Their eyes locked, and each sized up the other. She had Ryu’s weapon, but Ryu had something else she could not stand up against.

Ryu had the truth.

“Aboroths’ voice controls the masses, and you control Aboroth.” Ryu circled the Mithra as he spoke, never lowering his eyes from hers. “Devul’s a White Mage, isn’t he? You work us all to the brink of death, and then use Devul to bring us back from the edge. That’s why you let him rest all day and act as king, isn’t it? So he always has as much power as possible? That way you could keep working us day and night. And there’s got to be some illusion in place of being in hell, being punished, to make people accept it. To sell the lie to the point where your power can creep in.”

The Mithra bared her fangs at him as he spoke, keeping her steps in time with his. “You know nothing, Hume. You are trapped here, and don’t think this rebellion will go unpunished. Devul will – “

“Save it,” he cut her off, “nobody here is listening anymore.”

Snarling, the scarred woman charged forward, swinging Mezraq wildly. Ryu grit his own teeth, more in anger than anything, and thrust his hand forward. His twin-bladed spear shed sparks where it hit the ground as it went flying from the Mithra’s grasp. She gasped as blood began trickling down her body. Ryu held her aloft in his clawed grasp, eyes blazing as his grip tightened around her neck.

“You made it so easy to figure out,” Ryu chastised, tossing the Mithra away with a swipe of his gauntleted hand. She landed on the ground with a heavy thud and a splash. Snorting and grunting, she pulled herself up, but the Dragoon was on her again in an instant. With a furious thrust, he wrapped his hand around the woman’s throat, plunging her head into the freezing cave pool.

“Everybody knows,” he growled at her, “there’s no ice water in hell.”

The Mithra lashed out with her arms, scratching at Ryu furiously. The Dragoon feinted back to avoid her strikes, and she took the opportunity to leap free. She hissed at him, hands fumbling for Mezraq as the Dragoon closed in. Her hands found the metallic shaft, grasping at it even as Ryu drew near.

“We’re in Ordelle’s Caves, aren’t we?” he demanded, the clawed tips of his gloves tapping against the armored palms. “The villagers, the Elvaan soldiers, it all adds up for anyone who can actually think about it.” The Mithra rushed forward, seeking to impale Ryu with his own weapon. She was shrieking at him insanely, calling for his blood. Ryu sidestepped her with ease, arm striking like a serpent as she ran by him harmlessly. She halted several paces away, spinning and bringing Mezraq to bear once again.

She saw what Ryu was holding, and glanced down at her waist in a panic.

The Hume’s brown hair disappeared beneath the blade-surmounted helmet Bahamut had gifted him with. The joints locked together, and a shimmering purple light bled out from the connecting points as the suit became one once more. Within the embrace of the Wyrmking’s mail, a flowing blue cape burst from the shoulders, and a plated belt snapped into place around the waist. Renewed power flowed through Ryu’s body as he clenched his fists, feeling the enhanced senses the helmet gifted him with. His mind felt as if a dozen closed doors swung open inside of it. He could smell the perspiration and pheremones escaping the Mithra’s body, and taste the fear and desperation in the air. His ears could single out the faintest twitter of her eyelashes.

All the power of the armor was his once again. There was just one piece missing. Ryu raised a clawed finger towards the Mithra, making his intention clear.

Then she did something he had not seen coming. She threw the weapon down and ran.

A frantic burst of chi accompanied her departure, speeding her legs at an unheard of rate. Cursing, Ryu took off after her, snatching Mezraq from the ground as he did so. The weapon nearly leaped into his hands on its own as he grabbed for it. He raced as fast as he could after the Mithra, his senses keeping him aware of all her movements down the maze of corridors.

“I will sacrifice this cow, and her soul will breathe life into my great creation!” Ryu could hear the Mithra’s screams all the way down the winding tunnel. “My lord will have an invincible body, rooted in the power of Vana’diel itself!”

Ryu could hear a panicked scream in the distance, and his nose picked up the scent of oil and steel. A weapon had been drawn. He knew where she was going. To the great stone Galka face where she had ordered Shaohuan.

The Dragoon’s legs pumped as fast as he could move them, even as insane laughter trailed back to find him. He rounded the final corner just as the Mithra sped towards Shaohuan, rooted in place and forced to watch as the knife in the other woman’s hand descended towards her.

“My name shall echo down the halls of eternity after it is I who frees the Dynamis Lord from his prison!” She cried wildly. “My name will live forever!”

She thrust out her knife towards Shaohuan, and then withdrew her arm with a scream of anguish.

Shaohuan looked down in shock as the woman’s right hand fell to the ground, knife and all, separated from her arm at the wrist. Mezraq’s shaft shook in the rock where it was embedded, several feet past them. Ryu stood, straightening himself after throwing the weapon, gazing contemptuously at the bleeding Mithra.

“I don’t know your name,” he told her, “but I guess we can just call you Lefty now.”

She only screamed in response, cradling her stump of a right hand to her body. Desperately, insanely, she dropped down to the ground, trying to pry her fallen knife out of her own severed hand. The woman was blubbering incoherently now, and tore the blade up, waving it back and forth. Ryu ignored it and came forward.

“Time to answer for your crimes,” he decreed, extending his arms towards her.

The scarred Mithra gasped, taking an involuntary step back. Her knife fell harmlessly to the ground. Ryu felt a tingle of warning shoot up his spine, and realized the Mithra wasn’t looking at him, but over his shoulder. Twisting to bare his spear at the threat he perceived, he lowered it in conjunction with the widening of his eyes.

Darkness was blossoming behind him; a blot of nothingness blooming in the air that eradicated all traces of light. The Mithra let out a whimper, and Ryu turned to find her scampering in a panic, scraping at the wall for some form of egress. A yelp came out of her bloodied lips, and Ryu turned back to the darkening formation to see a figure emerging from its core.

From the yawning hole in reality, a man garbed in a mantle of pure shadow stepped into Ordelle’s Caves. Darkness trailed off of him, swallowing the light wherever it touched. His skin was pale, his hair black as night. The man was rugged and square-jawed, with a face flawlessly handsome, yet tinged with unmistakable cruelty.

“You are right indeed, Ryu Akanei,” he said in a voice heavily tinged with an accent from lands of the distant East. “Her judgment is at hand.”

Ryu stood frozen in place, directly in between the man in black and the whimpering Mithra. He did not even slow down in his approach, ghosting through the air like a wraith. As soon as he touched the Dragoon, a tumultuous burst of fire and heat erupted, tossing Ryu to the side. He landed on the ground unharmed, but gasped as he realized Bo was now across the cavern from him. Simply a touch had been powerful enough to separate man from wyvern on a spiritual level.

He quickly sought out the man in black. The daunting figure hung in the air above the scarred Mithra, whose hood had fallen down to reveal her grotesquely distorted face. Snorting at the sight of her, the man reached into his cloak. He withdrew a weapon the likes of which Ryu had never seen. It was a gun, but made of no material he could discern, a metal that shone even with no light upon it. The barrel looked more like it had grown out of the wooden handle than been attached. Extending it in one hand, the man’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at the woman beneath him.

“Did you honestly think I would let you do this, you petty thief?” the man in black asked with a disgusted curl in his lip as he looked down upon the Mithra. He leveled his gleaming gun at the cowering woman before him as she cringed back in despair. “Did you really think I would spend so many years planning to be undone by the likes of you?”

“P-p-please!” she begged, holding her bloodied stump of a hand aloft. “Please, I was only serving the Dynamis Lord, just as you do!”

The man in black’s expression shifted into an ironic smile.

“You know nothing of who I serve,” he said in a withering tone, and the Mithra shrank back in fear. The inky cloak he wore rippled as he clicked back the hammer. Tears streamed down the scarred face of his target.

“Please,” she pleaded, “I will kill the Dragoon, I will – “

“Idiot,” he spat. “That Dragoon is on a mission from Bahamut himself,” her eyes went wide at the pronouncement. “To impede his progress as much as you have has imperiled us all.” He shouted down her voice when she spoke in protest. “Bahamut intends to level Vana’diel should the Dragoon not serve his whims, fool! It serves no one’s purpose if the Wyrmking destroys us all!”

“I didn’t know!” she sobbed, “Please, mercy, I beg of you! Please, Doshu, I – “

“This conversation,” the man in black concluded, “is over.”

The trigger of his weapon pulled back. The air seemed to suck in towards the barrel, and an unnatural gleam surged through the gun. A burning blackness overtook the eyes of the man the Mithra identified as Doshu, and a single word escaped his lips as he stood over the weeping woman.

“Coronach.”

Ryu averted his eyes as an explosion of light burst out of the weapon. He could hear the tormented scream of the scarred woman as it blast overtook her. The entire cavern was illuminated by the force of Doshu’s attack, blinding and brilliant. A ripple of energy shook Ordelle’s Cavern to the firmament. Ryu felt his bones shake through his armor as the destructive wave swept past him. Down the miles of caverns beyond them Ryu could hear the echo as rocks were shaken loose and stalagmite broken from where they were rooted. He had never felt a force like it in his life. The power which shook him went beyond everything Ryu knew save the power of the Wyrmking himself.

In a moment, it was over, and the Dragoon turned his eyes towards where the man in black hung, suspended in the air. Beneath him, there was naught but a curl of black smoke creeping through the air from a smoldering wound in the ground. Not even a green cloak remained. The scarred Mithra had been completely annihilated.

Doshu pulled his weapon back, faint traces of energy still trailing off of it. His jet black hair trailed behind him as he turned his head to the side. His eyes fell on Ryu, and their gazes locked.

Ryu held up his clawed hands in defense. Doshu gave a derisive laugh. “You should know better, Akanei.” A portal of darkness bloomed behind him, identical to the one which had issued him forth.

“Wait!” Ryu demanded, but Doshu only gave the merest flick of his black-gloved hand. Ryu staggered back as if struck, and pulled his hand away from his jaw. He could feel a bruise rising on his cheek. The Dragoon fell back into Shaohuan’s arms, struggling to rise again.

“Succeed in your mission, Ryu Akanei,” he bade with untold forbidding. “Then when my plans are complete, I shall deal with the Wyrmking myself.”

Just as suddenly as he had come, the man in black was gone.

Shaohuan and Ryu stared at each other. Neither was exactly sure what they had just seen.

The event barely had time to register, however, before the former slaves of the Mithra’s schemes began emerging from the caverns, their minds and bodies free.


It was nearly a day and a half later when Ryu finally was satisfied the situation would not degenerate into chaos.

No one had been more horrified at the events than Devul. The Tarutaru, a wealthy man of some note whom was only vacationing in San d’Oria when the demons came, felt mortified at what he had been made to do. As soon as events had been made clear, the Tarutaru set out to make things right, and as it turned out he was more than capable of doing just that. All those injured or suffering from the endless work they had been forced into felt the touch of Devul’s healing magic. The tiny would-be-king was quite powerful. Everyone understood what had happened, and felt sympathy for the Devul.

Once healed, Aboroth set out with no less fervor than Devul. Using his knowledge, he set bones and staved off infections, but also used his spellsong to keep people calm as things were sorted out. The Monk spoke of setting off immediately to Windurst, but only after the people here had been taken care of. He hauled buckets of water back and forth, bringing food and nourishment to those who could not. The Galka was not only cleansing the people, he was scrubbing what he considered a black mark out of his own soul.

The discovery that the Elvaan soldiers amongst their ranks were mostly members of the San d’Orian Temple Knights was not as much a surprise as that one of their number was Rahal himself. The famous general had been leading military exercises in Valkurm when the demons attacked. They got as far in a retreat as La Thiene before he and all his men were dragged down a secret tunnel the same way Ryu had been. Separated from their counterparts, the Royal Knights, during the initial struggle in Valkurm’s sand dunes, they were no doubt thought devoured by the demons rather than lost. They were wasting no time on developing plans to locate the others and reunite with the Elvaan army.

“I owe you a great debt, Master Dragoon,” Rahal told Ryu as he clapped him on the shoulder. “Your actions have saved a great many people.”

“If I don’t leave immediately, it may all be for nothing,” he replied.

“Yes, so you’ve said,” the general acknowledged, his tone lowering gravely. “Take great care in the Tomb of King Ranperre, Master Dragoon.” His warning was deathly serious. “The Dragon King did not construct his final resting place to be breached by anyone.”

“I’ll do what I must, general,” Ryu told him, but the sense of foreboding growing within him now had something to feed on.

The Dragoon was almost to his last stop inside Ordelle’s when Shaohuan found him. She was running back and forth amongst the masses of people now wandering through the tunnels, searching for either belongings or loved ones. A case of medical supplies was in one of her hands, and a roll of blankets nestled in the crook of her arm.

“Where are you going?” she asked him, balancing her load carefully as she followed the Dragoon onwards.

“There’s something I have to take care of before I leave.” He took a look around at the still generally mystified faces roaming by. “I unfortunately don’t have the time to hang around and wait for people to sort things out. I just hope nothing that happened here has any lasting effect. Those women being forced to act as Devul’s harem must be going through a nightmare. I can’t imagine what they went through.”

“Not as much as you might think,” Shaohuan replied. Before Ryu could ask what she meant, the situation made itself quite clear.

“Damn, but that was some good time off!” He heard a female voice say nearby, and turned to see one of the women in question, a thin blonde, stretching languidly. She thrust out her chest, cracking her back, and then let out a belch. Another woman, this one with jet black hair and a darker complexion, nodded her agreement.

“Ain’t had this much time away from business in I don’t know how long.”

“Hey now,” a red-headed Mithra said beside them, “don’t let the boss hear you speaking like that. We gotta get back to work now.”

“What’s all this talkin’ goin’ on, bitches?” a lively, high-pitched voice called out. The gathered group, a dozen women in all, turned to regard Devul himself as he walked in to the cavern. The Tarutaru had traded his stained robe and crown for a blue velvet robe and stylized hat. He still wore several overly large rings, just far gaudier now than what the Mithra had dressed him up in. His smile revealed a tooth encased in gold. “We gots to go make right in the world! Get up off yo’ lazy asses!”

“Aww, we gotta already, boss?” one of them protested.

“Shit, baby, don’t be givin’ me no backtalkin’. We gonna help these people out first, ya feel me?”

“You can count on us, Devul honey, you know we love you.”

“Shut up, baby, I know it,” the Tarutaru told her, reaching up to give the woman a firm smack on her bottom. “Now you pretty l’il things go see what all needs to be done to help out around this place, while I handle some private business. Got it? Don’t just stand there looking good, babies! Go, go!”

His women running off on his order, Devul turned his attention to Ryu. The Tarutaru quickly made his way over to the dumbfounded Dragoon.

“Ryu,” he said, extending his hands, “I just wanted to thank you again before you go. If you ever need help, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m usually in business in this part of the world this time of year, every year.”

“So you,” he began, scratching his head, “I mean, you – and, those girls, they – you mean – “

“Hey,” Devul said, wagging a finger, “what my bitc- I mean, what those ladies do with their lives is none o’ your business. Unless, of course, you care to do some business.”

“Some other time, Devul,” Shaohuan told the White Mage. “Ryu’s got important work left to do. We can’t have him getting distracted now.”

“Damn, Shao, it’s too bad you got that mouth on you, or you’d be one fine – “the look the Thief directed at the Tarutaru would have withered fruit on the vine. “Don’t you be eyeballin’ me, girl!” he warned, even as he took a visible step back. “I was just playin’ anyhow. We all know you’re going back to the life after this.”

“Right,” Shaohuan replied, but the tone of her voice sounded less than convincing. “You know me, if I’m awake, I’m stealing.”

“Good girl, Shao. Remember Ryu – you need anything, you look me up.” And with that, Devul took off down the tunnels, following the girls who followed him.

Ryu continued walking, shaking his head as he did. Shaohuan kept following him, but he thought nothing of it. There was just one last thing to take care of.

At the end of the tunnel he walked down, the great stone Galka, an effigy of the Dynamis Lord, rose from the rock it had been hewn from. No one had come in this room since being freed. The symbol of their bondage was more than any of them could bear. Even for Ryu, it turned his stomach.

Shaohuan took a step back as Mezraq flashed into Ryu’s metal grasp. The Dragoon’s eyes narrowed as he stared into the lifeless tone before him. The Dynamis Lord was not just the symbol of the oppression these people faced. It represented the leader of the demons which had scoured their world, breaking apart friends and families. The staggering loss of life which was on the head of the monster represtend in the carving was too great a number to contemplate. Given a free hand, he would extend his reach beyond Mindartia and Quon, until all of Vana’diel was crushed under never-ending shadow.

A spiral of energy bloomed at Mezraq’s tip, creeping its way up Ryu’s arm. The Dragoon took a step forward, then another, gaining speed until he finally was at a dead run towards the monstrous idol. He gave a roar as he focused all his power into Mezraq’s thrust, twirling the spear for momentum before thrusting it towards its target.

There was a sound like thunder as Ryu’s spear collided with the hewn image. It exploded like an overripe fruit thrown to the ground. Debris shot out in all directions, a cloud of dust sweeping over Ryu as it collapsed. The face came crashing down all at once, bringing an end once and for all to the ordeal within Ordelle’s Caverns. Ryu emerged from the smoke, clasping Mezraq upon his back. He never looked back as the wall continued to crumble behind him.

He was nearly to the exit, Bo perched over his shoulder, when Shaohuan’s voice caught up to him again.

“Wait up,” she cried out, “where are you going?” She still held her bag of medical supplies and blankets.

“What do you mean?” Ryu queried. He had made his mission plain to her the day before. “I’m on my way out, I told you all this already.”

“No, I meant “where are you going without me?” You don’t think I’m staying here, do you?”

The question caught him by surprise. “But – what about the people here?”

“I’m a Thief, Ryu,” she said bluntly. “Helping people isn’t something I’m good at. These,” she indicated the load she carried, “are for me. I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Ryu responded. “Even I don’t know how dangerous this is going to be. I’m not letting you throw yourself in harm’s way.”

“Then I’ll go to Ranperre’s Tomb anyway. He’s some famous King, right? I’ve never robbed a tomb before.”

“But – “

“I’m going.” She said flatly, brushing an errant strand of auburn hair from her face. “You either have the best Thief in the region on your side or you don’t, Dragoon. But if you’re so worried about my safety, wouldn’t you want me where you can keep an eye on me?”

Ryu and Bo shared a look. This girl couldn’t be older than sixteen, but Ryu could not honestly recall meeting an adult half as cunning.

“Alright,” he conceded grudgingly, “you go where I go, and you do what I say, got it?” He cut off her protest. “This is not a game, Shaohuan. This is the entire world we’re talking about.”

“Then it should be exciting,” the Thief grinned mischieviously.

The Dragoon exchanged another glance with his wyvern. He had no idea whether or not he had just made a terrible mistake.

One way or the other though, he had not another second to spare. Shaohuan now by their side, Ryu Akanei and Bo made their way finally back into daylight, to complete the quest of the Wyrmking, and save Vana’diel.
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