The darkness that surrounds us cannot hurt us.
It is the darkness in your own heart you should fear.
The ornamented sword gleamed faintly in the dusky room. A few slanted rays of golden midday sun made light and shadows play across the blue-haired girl's features as she lifted the holy blade from its secret resting place in an old, ordinary-looking chest in the darkest corner of the attic.
Back then, after their victory, they had all agreed it to be best if it was forgotten, hidden. The few surviving people of Sairaag that had ever heard of it at all, assumed it had finally been lost as Hellmaster destroyed Flagoon to build his temple in the dead city. The Bless Blade had become just yet another legend lost among others in the flow of time. Lost to all, except those few who knew the truth. Knew that the shrine maiden of Sairaag who had taken it from the Temple all those years ago guarded it still.
For the first time in a long time, sunlight once again touched the silvery blade and made the green gemstones sparkle. Pale metal twisted into an almost organic form, it was pulsing with pure white magic, held the power to withstand and destroy Darkness.
She was pretty certain she would need it.
The huge sword strapped to her back, Sylphiel closed the door to the little cottage behind her.
That first difficult year after the fall of Sairaag, living with her relatives had been a relief. Far away enough from what had once been her home to get a distance to what had occurred. But after some time she had grown restless and left them, wandering the roads to practice her white healing magic, giving it to those in need. And through a twist of fate, she had once again met up with her friends, and come back to Sairaag. Yet another fight, yet another Darkness. And for the second time in as many years, the city had been destroyed. Now only blackened ruins remained, crowned by the broken black dome in the center, where Flagoon had once stood.
And would stand again, if her vision last night was true.
She had followed Lina, Gourry and the others for a while after their second meeting. Watching the swordsman and the sorceress dance their intricate dance of fighting and love, she slowly realized that the thing she wanted more than anything in the world, was the one thing she couldn't have. No matter how many Dragon Slaves she learned she could never take the fiery girl's place in his heart. And so she had left them. Perhaps because she was afraid she'd destroy their happiness with her sorrow, perhaps because the pain of watching them smile at each other was too much for her to bear.
She had once again returned to Sairaag to make up with the past. And this third time, she had decided to stay. Her family had owned a small cottage beyond the great forest, half a day's journey from Sairaag; she remembered many happy summers of childhood spent in that place.
She had made it her home, the constant reminders of her parents and friends somehow making the loss and loneliness easier to bear. Other fugitives of Sairaag had come to live in the villages spread out around the once flourishing city, and she had become something of a hero among them; one of those who had twice fought to defeat the evil that had destroyed the city. They came to her to ask her advice or plea for magical healing. It had been a good life.
Until now.
She would have to leave her haven now, to once again walk the road back to the ruins of Sairaag. Her dream had told her two things would be waiting for her there. A seed of hope; she had seen a vision of Flagoon as it had been back then; grand, powerful and flourishing.
And a shadow of the past. The vision following that description left little doubt of what it was she would find.
She took a deep breath to steady herself, then took the first step towards whatever fate awaited her in the dead city.
Rebirth. It's not all it's cracked up to be.
One would have expected blinding white light. Ghostly spirits and eerie harmonies.
Impressive spells, possibly a chanting choir, swirling colors and a grandiose re-entering of the stage. On the whole, an ethereal experience.
No one ever mentioned having to dig your way out of your own grave.
Pretty depressing development.
One should complain, if it wasn't for the fact there's always a chance the entire thing was a mistake and you'd risk attracting the unwelcome attention of someone who would simply remedy it.
Well.
Perhaps it's just one of those things best not to think about too closely. Hopefully it will all work out somehow, in the end. Things tend to, from one perspective or another. Although admittedly, I'd certainly prefer for things not to end in quite the same way this time. Whatever 'this time' may be.
Not to mention the 'where', 'when' and above all... 'Why'?
Ah, thinking is still difficult. I wish my mind would stop spinning and swirling like that. Dizzy.
Still so weak. Unconsciousness, old friend, opening your arms to embrace me once more?
Well.
What the hell happened, and what am I doing here..?
The shadows grew longer and darker as the girl entered the outer limits of what had been a great city not so many years ago. Unsheathing the great sword she entered the ruins, her water bottle lazily banging against her leg. The golden sun was approaching the horizon and she knew there was not much time left till nightfall. The thought of wandering the dead city alone in the dark, with that.. thing out there made her terrified, yet she walked on. Her own shadow was her only companion as she walked towards the cracked dome of darkness that loomed over the city. She could feel the dull throb of her heartbeat, her mouth dry with fear. This place brought back memories, and she was about to once again face the darkest of those.
Kopii Rezo. Billowing red and white robes flowing around an impossibly tall form, wild purple hair and mismatched insane eyes.
She could still remember how he had laughed as he had destroyed her city, in an instant, on a whim, with a single spell. The sword she was carrying now had managed to kill him then. She clenched her hands tightly around the hilt, her knuckles white and numb. Her breath swirled around her like wisps of smoke in the ice-cold air. The slightest sound made her jump, the shadows seemed to form phantoms she could only see through the corner of her eye.
According to her vision she would find two things from the past here tonight. One would be a memento from Flagoon, a way to resurrect the holy tree to banish the dark memories of this desolate place. The other would be the man that had blasted Sairaag to smithereens before her eyes more than two years ago.
Why, how, this could be she didn't know. It didn't seem to make any sense whatever angle she tried, but she had to come here, had to know.
A cold breeze howled sorrowfully through the empty city.
When she reached the remains of the black dome, only a broken shell now, the sun hung low and red, touching the horizon. She entered through a large crack in one of the walls. The ceiling had been blasted away by the Giga Slave Lina had used to defeat Hellmaster, and so the huge construction was now open to the sky, like an amphitheater. Her footsteps echoed hollowly as she walked over fallen debris. Red light spilled like blood over the scene, made the gleaming sword in her hands look tainted.
When she had almost reached the center of the crater she spotted him.
No furious beast about to attack her, no predator stalking her from the shadows, but a rather pitiful shape huddled up on the ground.
The surprise was enough to make her stop. This was not what she had expected at all, and the sudden anticlimax made her uncertain of what to do. She shifted the sword. Reluctantly she took a few steps closer, slowly advancing on the motionless figure. As she came closer she realized she wouldn't have had to worry. He was unconscious, so still she wondered if he was even alive. The tangled, dirty hair falling into his face didn't quite manage to hide the haunted look on his ashen features.
She took a step back and lowered the sword. Faced with this new situation she felt confused. Her hands trembled from the adrenaline rush and she clenched and unclenched them to make them stop.
Here was her enemy in front of her, somehow brought back to life as her dream had predicted. And yet it was all so wrong. He looked nothing like the bloodthirsty monster she had envisioned as she walked through the city. He looked worn and vulnerable, completely defenseless. She realized she could kill him right there and then, and save herself a lot of trouble. He wouldn't even know what happened.
But somehow that was just not a thing she'd do, not her way. That would be the act of a coward and it would be wrong. Besides, he was somehow a part of the resurrection of Flagoon, and if she killed him now she might lose that chance forever.
She sighed and picked a handy slab of stone a few yards away and sat down to wait, sword resting across her knees. Wait for the man who was responsible for the death of her father and childhood friends to either die or come around. In the sky above, the crimson of sunset was gradually replaced by a deep bluish purple, and the first stars twinkled faintly as night fell.
The story idea is mine, obviously, since I doubt anyone else has a weird enough mind to consider something like this. It was all based on a dream I had, actually. Amazing, now you know that too.
The quotes are from Oshiro-sama's Letters to a Red Priest (in other words, I made 'em up) and can't be used without my permission. If you ask nicely and give me credit you'll most likely get my permission, but anyways...
Many heartfelt thanks to Jen for actually encouraging me to write this, to Syrena for beta reading it and telling me it's good (don't hit her), and to Wendy for not smacking me too hard with that fish of hers...
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