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Thieves of Light Chapter 10.A Saint Seiya fanfiction by Ariane Kovacevic, AKA Fuu-chan. When they stepped out of the blinding pillar of Light for the second time, Hyoga paused for the time of a heartbeat and closed his eyes, chasing away the memory of the high flames which had reached out to his soul. Inside his mind, the single Word that was the Holy Seal which had shielded them all during the crossing was still echoing, the sound of it a music which kept sending shivers down the Cygnus Saint's spine. Again, it had been Lucifer who had uttered the sacred Word. Again, it had been the foulest of evils which had allowed them to reach one step higher, closer to their goal. To challenge Heaven itself. It was hard for Hyoga to accept the strange, misshapen reality of recent events. Every instinct in him was screaming that this alliance with demons from Hell was a horrible mistake. It was far more than stupid bigotry which had prompted the Cygnus Saint to voice his doubts and challenge the unholy shadows which had come to the Sanctuary; Hyoga knew that Saori-san understood. She had denied him every time, but he had seen the grim flame in her purple eyes. She knew what kind of deadly snakes they had been forced to accept in their midst. Forced, yes, that's the right word, Hyoga thought to himself. He had felt his companions' loathing at having to tolerate the Fallen Angels' presences. Almost, the tension had broken their unity; almost, it had separated them from Saori-san, but then they had realized what was happening to them, what Lucifer was sparking in their group, and so they had silenced their dissentions. It had been a joyless choice; all they had wanted to do at the time had been to turn upon the Lord of Hell and make him pay for what he had done to Shun. But when they had all witnessed the Andromeda Saint reaching out to the Fallen Angel in a gesture of blind instinct...Hyoga's heart had wrenched in sorrow and fear had invaded his whole being. Shun was still Shun, at least in part, as his pain at having to kill the angels of the second Celestial Hall had clearly demonstrated. Thank the Goddess for that, Hyoga heaved out an inaudible sigh. But the alien, inhuman cosmo which seemed to wait, poised in the gentle-hearted Saint's soul, that and the dark, cold flame that Hyoga had glimpsed once in Shun's dark green eyes.... We should never have allowed him to sacrifice himself. I don't care that he's his own person or that he's Andromeda, damnit! Anger once more flared to life in the Cygnus Saint's heart and he quelled its fire with difficulty. Shun was Hyoga's dearest friend, as close to him as kin. The Cygnus Saint had already seen too many loved ones die, he couldn't bear the thought of losing yet another who was precious to him. "Hyoga?" Abruptly drawn out of his reflections, the Cygnus Saint focused on his surroundings to see Seiya look at him with a perplexed stare. With a short nod at his friend, Hyoga discarded the emotions roving in his unruly heart and sealed them away as best he could. He'd have to deal with them, but now wasn't the time. Later, when the threat to humanity would have disappeared, when there would be time to stop and try to heal Shun's wounds. Yes, later. Always later, the Cygnus Saint thought with a bitter smile on his lips. When would they at last be allowed to rest? When would they be allowed to live? Following after Seiya and the others, Hyoga stared at the strange place they had come to, a hand on his brow to shield his ice blue eyes from the blinding radiance which seemed to be the third Celestial Hall's essence. The light hurt and it was making it impossible to distinguish anything of the corridor they were walking into. Alone of them all, the Fallen Angels looked like they knew where they were going as had been the case in Livnat Hasapir. How they were able to find their bearings in the blinding maze, Hyoga didn't know, and didn't want to know. "Strange, there doesn't seem to be anyone in this Hall," Sorento's voice rose in weird, muffled echoes around them. "That's because there *isn't* anyone here. Noga is empty; its Wardens are gone," Belial said, and for the first time Hyoga heard true tension in the Fallen Angel's deceptively beautiful voice. "It doesn't make sense." At the head of the group, Lucifer slowly shook his head. "No it doesn't, unless..." he went on, his tone distant and thoughtful, "unless we were expected and warning was given of enemy intrusion. Yet this absence of Wardens in Noga is such a blatant, gross betrayal of the fact that they're aware of us...." The Lord of Hell's words trailed off into silence, and then he sighed. "This is no way of setting an ambush. I expected more subtlety from Beriyah's Wardens." For a few seconds they kept walking in silence, then Shiryu suddenly said, "But perhaps there's no ambush awaiting us in this Hall. Perhaps they weren't after subtlety at all. They might have simply decided to avoid confrontation and to let us pass." Short laughter interrupted the Dragon Saint's quiet whisper, coming form Sammael. "Michael!" Lucifer hissed softly, and cold fire shone in his amethyst gaze. "Of course, Michael." Nodding to himself, the Prince of Demons added, a savage smile coming to his lips, "This is so like you, to allow us to reach the battlefield you set for us unhindered. You haven't lost your taste for war, have you?" Michael, first and most powerful among the archangels. The evocation of that name sent a long shiver running down Hyoga's spine, and it was all he could do to deny the desperate urge to hug himself. I'm cold. Contrary to the others, the Cygnus Saint had had a true religious education and he knew what a terrible opponent the archangel would be. It was he who had led the Heavenly Host at the time of the Fall, he who had vanquished Lucifer and cast him into the dark. Michael had been given the title of Viceroy of Heaven that had belonged to Lucifer before that; he was second only to Metatron. Some texts even equated him with God Himself. With an effort of will, Hyoga tore his mind away from the knowledge of how invincible Michael was bound to be. It didn't matter, it *couldn't* matter. Theirs was a desperate attempt to save humanity from blind destruction. That it had all started with an abominable theft was immaterial, the people who were living now on the earth had nothing to do with the unforgivable sins of the gods. They were innocent, they had a right to live. Had anyone told me that one day I'd take up arms against what I always believed was holy, I'd have laughed in their face. The Cygnus Saint gave a single shake of his head and fought down the impulse to burst out laughing. Before him, the Fallen Angels had abruptly accelerated their walk. As if they were eager for battle. It didn't take them long to reach the heart of the Hall of Brightness. As they stopped in front of the doors barring their way to the violent torrent of Light tumbling down from Infinity, Lucifer turned towards them all and said, in deadly earnest, "What lies before us is Zakhout, the Hall of Transparency. Its Lord is Michael, and he'll be waiting for us. Once we step out of the Light, we'll be trapped inside the battlefield he designed for us. Expect anything. Michael is the greatest strategist and tactician the Heavenly Host has. And," the Fallen Angel's smile bared his teeth when he concluded, "he lives for war." That said, the Lord of Hell opened the doors leading to the heart of Noga wide and stepped into the Fire, releasing the third Seal. "Agrepti," he said, his voice ringing clear and true. Devouring flames rushed at the companions, freed from the confines of the central room of the Celestial Hall, howling. Famished. We plunged into absolute darkness. Around us, the transparency which should have been Zakhout's very nature was empty blackness, a terrible night which felt like some kind of monstrous swamp. "Nothing," I whispered softly when a hand lightly pressed my left arm. The Chain was inert, as if there was no enemy anywhere close even though the air was heavy with menace. It was wrong, we all knew the enemy was watching us even now, waiting for the signal to attack. The Chain should have reacted, but it was hanging limp along my left forearm. Dead. It's impossible! I thought, and with an effort of will I chased away an insidious feeling of dread which wanted to clog my brain. Focusing on the rhythm of my chest rising and falling with each breath, I closed my eyes. And I remembered. Back in the time when my Cloth had been simple Bronze, the Chain had failed me when confronted with the terrible power of the Gold Saints. Because my cosmo wasn't strong enough, I was the one lacking, not the Chain. But many things had changed since then. My Cloth had been touched by the blood of a Goddess and had become a Kamui; I had been forced to fight a God-- A part of yourself. Discarding the mocking inner voice, I searched further and mentally I recoiled when I stumbled upon a memory. You broke it yourself, you shattered it to pieces so you could unleash the inhuman thing that you truly are. Grimly, I made myself examine it, refusing to yield to the instinctive reaction of shying away from it. No, I won't flee. Never again. The Chain could be broken, it could fail if one used a power that was strong enough. Beyond human, perhaps, but I couldn't deny that such power existed. If one knew how to use the scorching Fire that was called Light, the En Sof, then one could do anything. I could, Saori-san and Julian Solo could. Lucifer also, and... "Stay close to me, all of you," I said in a tense whisper. Breaking the deep silence was a risk I had to take, but I didn't have to like it. I turned my gaze inwards and called out to the high flames inside my heart. Then I released the Chain. Soft twinkling sounds, a bit like the echoes of faraway bells, rose in the darkness as the Chain spread around me in concentric circles, wider and wider, an endless spiral which reached out to infinity. Which shaped the night with the great Andromeda Nebula. "What's this?" Someone hissed close on the left. Distantly, I recognized the voice of the Fallen Angel Sammael and then I discarded the perception to once again focus on the Chain. It didn't matter that the Wardens of Zakhout had the power to turn the Transparency of their Hall into a thick, frightening fog of Blackness. Within me was the sparkling spiral of the Nebula. I watched while it spread its arms outward and embraced the darkness, mastering it and lifting its paralyzing maze. Eyes narrowed, I stared at infinity and waited for the telltale signs that I knew would come. There was no place in the universe that the Chain couldn't reach if I was there to share myself with it. There was no escape from it. The Celestial Hall and the angels hidden in it were no exception to that law. Tiny lights shining in the darkness. Stars shining in the immensity of space. So bright. From the other end of the night, I felt the Chain suddenly tighten and smiled. "There," I said in a quiet whisper, nodding at the bright dots spread into a half circle right before us. Sunrise. Just as the echo of my words was swallowed by the deep silence, darkness exploded into light. On instinct, I turned away to shield my eyes from the angry glare of what felt like the sun rising above the horizon. It was like the terrible, enthralling beauty of a fiery dawn. If its rays touched us, it'd burn us to cinders, it'd burn and burn until there was nothing left of us. From the corner of an eye, I spied a shadow emerging from the pure blinding light as Lucifer shed the cloak given him by Gabriel. Dark and beautiful, he rose, calling, "Michael!" With a smile, the Lord of Hell flung himself forward. I staggered backwards while the Chain withstood yet another assault, but somehow I managed to hold my position. In front of me, the battle was raging, I could feel the cosmo of my friends, my brother and Sorento rivaling with the angels' fire. The three Fallen Angels had swooped upon the fair archangel who was this Hall's Ruling Prince like great storm clouds intent on extinguishing a small candle flame, but Michael was no weak light. Michael was the sun, young and immortal like dawn, and so far he had managed to keep his opponents at bay. I longed to join them all and to help my friends, but if I moved, the two people standing immobile behind me would be defenseless. "Go, Shun, we'll fend for ourselves." Just as Saori-san's gentle whisper registered in my brain, another explosion of light overwhelmed me, coming from behind. The Kamui, I thought, recognizing on instinct the infinitely powerful and yet gentle flames. Saori-san had called the sacred Cloth of Athena to her. The small golden statue that she had brought with her when we had left the Sanctuary was now gone, and the Goddess of War was standing in the heart of battle, clad in her armor of glittering stars. She'll be safe, I nodded to myself. Then I gathered my strength and joined the fray. A savage stream of Ice brushed against me and joined the furious winds of Nebula Storm. Our two cosmo united, Hyoga and I struck as one. Before us, the unknown angel's eyes widened in surprise and fear as he tried to avoid our combined blow. The Storm caught him as he was spreading his wings and in an instant Hyoga's Diamond Dust turned the unearthly being into an eerily beautiful statue of crystalline ice that nothing would ever melt. In the moment that we turned to face another opponent, the bright sun that was the archangel Michael went nova. Fortunately, the fantastic explosion didn't come from before me and I managed to shield myself and Hyoga in time. Despite the Chain's protection, the impossibly strong power blew us away, and in the same time I thought I heard a strangled cry of pain. "Seiya!" Saori-san's horrified shriek abruptly came to my ears and I realized with a pang of distant surprise that I was still alive. There was silence all around me, not unlike the one that always followed after Nebula Storm. Once the savage winds had taken their toll of life. Cold savagely hit the pit of my stomach and I willed my legs to move, standing up with difficulty. Slowly, reluctantly, I turned to my right, to see Seiya lying sprawled on the floor. Sluggishly, he moved and gathered himself from the floor with strangely awkward movements. When he lifted his head, I saw his eyes. Blind. He had taken the explosion of Michael's Fire directly, and the flames had devoured him. He--Saori-san came to kneel before my friend, discarding the furious battles raging around her as if everything else in the universe had ceased to exist. Her purple gaze was distant, focused on things I couldn't even begin to guess at. Cosmo started flowing from her as she reached out and carefully, with infinite gentleness, rested her right hand over Seiya's veiled gaze. The whole thing hadn't lasted for more than a few seconds, and yet it felt as if Time had frozen over the Celestial Hall named Transparency. As if all possibility of change had been extinguished, and Fate set. "Stupid human godlings!" I whirled around when Sammael's furious hiss broke the silence, and in the same time I again felt Fire sparking to life. Michael! With the thought came a terrible feeling of dread which clawed at me, the numbing certitude that nothing could ever hope to stand in the way of the archangel. As if he was unaware of the impossibly high flames, Sammael stepped between Saori-san and Michael. Interposing himself between the Goddess and death. Darkness was oozing from the great shadow that was the Fallen Angel, like blood. He's wounded. Clearly, he couldn't withstand another attack from Michael, and yet-- Yet he's filling the position you should be in, fool! He was shielding Saori-san, as if he had been one of the Saints. Because they still have need of her, not out of the love of his merciful heart, the cold inner voice snorted. "Shun!" Shaking off the gut, animal fear which had paralyzed me for a moment, I nodded. "Hai, Ikki-niisan. Ikimasu." A strange peace settled over my heart while I set fire to my cosmo and reached out to the alien flames which were the core of my being. While something deep within accepted the necessity to fight, and perhaps to die. I didn't look to the side when I flung myself towards the bright Light of Dawn that was Michael. I didn't need to: I could feel the presence of my friends and my brother beside me; we were one, each of us the part of a greater whole. Together, we struck at the great archangel. We were greeted by laughter, joyful and wild. Two sword of pure light rose before us and blocked the attack of our combined forces with impossible ease. There was no time to stop or avoid the counter-strike. With a fluid motion of inhuman perfection, Michael flowed backwards like a great ocean wave, and in the same time he brought his arms forward. The two blades crossed before us and sparked the air into flames, a burning storm of raw fire which hurled us away as if we'd been mere fragile twigs of wood lost in a whirlwind. No! I clenched my teeth, refusing defeat. There was only one way we might perhaps survive, and it was to be like the great archangel, to become the very soul of combat. So be it. The faraway thought echoed in my mind while I dived into the heart of battle. When my feet touched the floor of Zakhout, I flexed my knees to absorb a part of the shock of the impact and used the impetus to jump forward again, the fingers of my left hand gripping the Chain hard. Distantly, I thought I heard a muted cry and discarded the unwelcome distraction. I couldn't stop anymore, not for anything. Not for anyone. I couldn't hesitate. Cosmo blazing, I released the Chain and summoned the Storm. Delicate threads of pale gold. Thin strands of hair, hovering in the air on my left. Falling. A hand followed them, its fingers outstretched. Desperately reaching out towards the sky. Belatedly, I remembered an almost imperceptible beam of lightning which had flashed past me, a mute, deadly child of one of Michael's blades. In a slow motion, I turned my head on the left, instinctively drawn by the fugitive movement I had glimpsed. The archangel's attack hadn't touched me; it hadn't even fully registered in my brain, intent as I had been on flinging myself at Michael. No, the beam hadn't touched me, but that was because it had never been aimed at me. Silence claimed the Celestial Hall named Transparency as Time held still. As Fate and Destiny were sealed. Beside me, a human body covered by a Cloth of glittering stars collapsed. "Hyoga!" The startled cry escaped form my lips without my being aware of having uttered it. The sounds of it were meaningless, insane. In a sluggish motion, I pivoted on my left heel, in time to see my friend hit the floor. His head struck the hard stone and then came up in a mechanical reaction, pushed back by the violence of the shock. Incredulity and pain were already fading from the ice blue eyes when I instinctively reached out towards the Cygnus Saint. Before I could even touch him, a thin, delicate veil came over Hyoga's eyes and the light in them died. Then I felt the bright flames of his cosmo plunge deep into the ground. A beautiful shooting star which disappeared into the translucent mists of Beriyah, smothered by the ever-present fog of light. Warm. Hyoga's skin still felt warm when my fingers touched his right cheek. Yes, warm. But lifeless. I wished I could close my eyes and unmake the absurd reality lying before me. Dead. In my heart, the inhuman Fire had withdrawn with the brutality and speed of an ocean during the equinox, giving way to a void which claimed everything in its path. There was no emotion inside me, there was nothing at all. There had been such a terrible finality in the feeling of Hyoga's cosmo exploding into a shooting star and then fading into nothingness in an instant, that it left no place for doubt. No place for denial. He's dead. As if in echo to the distant thought, melodious sounds that something inside me recognized as being music rose in the air. It was a song so beautiful it should have made the heart weep, but mine was empty. Everything seemed to have frozen to an abrupt halt in the Celestial Hall. Everything, but the Warden angels who had tilted their heads backwards, their faces turned towards the transparent ceiling. They were the source of the unearthly melody. They were singing. A celebration of death. As violently as it had left me, the Fire that was my essence rushed back to claim me. With it came the seed that Lucifer had sparked to life and nurtured, a beautiful, perfect pearl of black, ebony ice. For the time of a heartbeat, I looked at it without reacting and stared at the cold, somber flames dancing inside it. Then I held out my hand and grasped it. Mine. Dark, savage laughter bubbled up my throat. Yes, hatred and self-loathing were mine. Yes, the power was mine, and like a fool I had restrained it. Bent on control of the Fire and on war, my whole being focused on the enemy, I had deliberately shut myself to the feeling of my friends. I had made myself deaf to those who were precious to me. I had refused to see when I had felt the threat of Michael's attack, having instinctively perceived it wasn't aimed at me. Hyoga was lying dead on my left because of those mistakes. He had been the one paying the price for them, not me. Unfair. Quietly, I stood up and faced the immobile form of the archangel. Michael hadn't moved, he seemed to be waiting for something. Around me, the Wardens' song was coming to an end. Like in a dream, I reached down to my belt and unsheathed the great sword of Hades. My hands gripped the blade's hilt tight and I stared at the bright light that was Michael, holding hatred close. So cold it burns, the incoherent thought formed inside my brain, yes, hatred is power and strength beyond imagining. "You," I snarled as I flung myself froward, "are dead!" A contemptuous smile curled up the archangel's lips but I didn't see it. For the first time since I had left the dark Hall named Agony, I summoned the high flames and bade them shape me and define me. For the first time since the moment when I had been forced to feel the Fire inside my heart, I willingly shed my humanity. Fierce, savage joy became disbelief mingled with the smallest glint of fear in Michael's golden eyes as the archangel lifted one of his twin blades to meet mine. The flicker of doubt didn't last for more than a fraction of a second, however. Immediately, Michael got a stern hold over himself. The Chain pulled at me with incredible violence, indicating the presence of a close, lethal danger, but I discarded its warning. I was beyond heeding the urgent perception, beyond caring for threats. Gathering the Fire within, I fed the great sword of Hades with its flames and the blade vibrated with a sudden, deep echo, coming to life truly for the first time since its master's death. The metal glowed, reflecting the scorching Light running through its core, and slowly Michael's sword started to give way before it. Cracks appeared in the great angelic blade. Impossibly distant pain exploded in my left flank as its twin sister found its way through a small vulnerable spot of my Cloth. My mind acknowledged the searing sensation and rejected it as insignificant, using the flames to keep it away from me. Michael's eyes widened when he saw that I'd refuse to fall, and I smiled at him. A feral, animal grin of death. Fire suddenly leaked from Hades' great sword in small tendrils of Light which coiled up to the archangel's blade, as if my weapon could no longer keep all the power I was feeding it with contained. Then all at once, the angelic blade broke. Freed, my own sword continued its initial course and cut deeply into Michael's left shoulder. A strange light flashed into the archangel's golden eyes and his gaze clouded with what I'd have named pain if he had been human. In a lithe, feline movement he glided backwards and retreated to a safe distance. Obscure instinct made me slash my blade sharply once after it finished its curve. Blood that looked like liquid fire was cleansed from Hades' sword and the echoes of its drops hitting the floor filled the air around me. I was wounded as well; something deep inside me could dimly remember pain spreading, radiating through my whole body, its source a nasty lacerating wound in my left side. Not yet, I told the pain. I couldn't stop yet, not while power kept flowing through my being and was giving me the strength to keep standing. Not while Michael still lived. Raising up my sword, I purposefully strode towards the archangel. "Death," Michael said in a low whisper. A shining reflection on his right caught the archangel's attention towards the discarded tip of one of his blades, the other half of the broken weapon still in his hand. All but useless. As I was about to break into a run, the great archangel called out in a clear, ringing voice, "To me, Wardens!" At once, the other angels abandoned the combats they were involved in and vanished in bright spheres of light to re-materialize at Michael's side. "We have unfinished business, you and I", the archangel told me in an eerily quite voice, and his golden gaze lit with a low, hungry fire when he added, "I'll be waiting for you at the Southern Gate of Ratson." All of a sudden, I realized that he meant to leave the battlefield and deprive me of my prize. Snarling in blind, insane rage, I called to the Fire within and flung myself at him. What my blade struck was empty air. Michael was gone. Its reason for being hopelessly beyond reach, the pure, sharpened ebony ice of hatred abruptly shattered inside of me and its shards tore at my heart. In the same time the alien Fire pulled at me, filling my mind and wanting out. In desperate need of release. Nothing could hope to contain the terrible power I had summoned and gathered in my hands, certainly not a pitifully fragile human body. From very far away, I felt myself shaking. "The sword, Shun!" Saori-san hissed, her voice low and urgent, "Focus on the sword!" Reflexively, I looked down at the blade that I was still holding in my right hand. At first I didn't see anything, then all of a sudden I blinked in surprise, realizing that my fingers were gripping the hilt with desperate strength. As if I was holding on to it for dear life, was the strange thought which popped up inside my brain. It's horribly heavy. Again, I staggered as the Fire within battered at the fragile shell of flesh that my body was, demanding to be released. It would tear me apart within moments if I didn't find a way of controlling it, but I could no longer silence the flames. The alien strength that had overwhelmed me, born of hatred, was gone. The only thing I could do was to let the Light devour me from within , or to try and make sense of Saori-san's cryptic words. In my right hand, the great blade suddenly started slipping from my grasp. On instinct I tightened my hold over the hilt, redirecting my attention towards it, and all at once the Fire joyfully leapt towards the glinting metal. Faster than thought, the flames gleefully filled the delicate carvings on the blade like a youthful torrent cascading down the mountains, and in the time of a heartbeat they engulfed the sword, pulling me along with them. Free! Held in a strange, dreamlike trance, I felt myself lift the sword of Hades from somewhere very far away. Of its own volition, my left hand joined the right on the hilt and the blade went up. "Saori-san, no!" Shiryu's desperate cry faded quickly, unheard. And then the sword came down. Power swept away from me like a wild river, a savage, untamed stream which would destroy everything it touched, and was met by a barrier of pure golden Light. Awareness of self abruptly returned, and shockingly I realized that Saori-san had caught the great sword's lethal blow with the Scepter of Athena. The golden Light was still shining from Nike, its glow slowly growing dim. Beyond it, I stared at the young woman, horrified at the thought of what I had almost done. The Goddess smiled at me, the flame in her purple gaze serene and confident. "The weapons of the gods are the only tools which allow correct focus and release of the Fire once it's been fully awoken," she explained in a calm voice, like a teacher speaking to a student, "and of course," she added softly, "the only thing that can contain a god's Fire once it has been released is another god's weapon. You did the right thing, Shun." I gave her a single, dumbfounded nod and then stepped back. As I resheathed the sword of Hades, the pain which had been kept at bay until now violently rushed to the fore of my being and I stumbled forward, unable to suppress a slight moan. "Hold on, it's bleeding a lot!" I blinked when the exclamation reached my ears, wondering at the strange discontinuity between then and now, then I abruptly realized that I was leaning against someone. Someone who had wrapped an arm around my waist to support me. Saori-san had dropped the Scepter of Nike to catch me before I could fall; she was the only obstacle between me and the floor. With a single, sharp shake of my head I shrugged off her unwanted help and told her between clenched teeth, "I'm okay." Denying the outstretched arms of darkness, I willed my body to move and turned around. Less than five steps away from me, Hyoga was still lying on the transparent floor of Zakhout. The pale blue eyes were vacant; all life had fled from them. Forever. It's true then. He's really gone. Dead. Unable to move, to go to his side, I numbly stared at the one who had been a dear, precious friend. Hyoga, I called inwardly, as if the Cygnus Saint could still somehow hear me or answer me. I wasn't there for you. Memories imposed themselves in my mind, filling my soul with images and sounds, feelings which assaulted it and hammered at its walls, one with the searing sensation of suffering which had now engulfed my whole body. Memories of Michael's attack. I heard you. Of an almost inaudible cry of pain. But I chose not to listen. Of my discarding it and calling out the flames to strike at the archangel. I chose to abandon you. "There was nothing I could do. This Hall is too close to the En Sof, the Light of Infinity's call is too powerful. I..." Dimly, I heard Saori-san coming towards me while she added, "I'm sorry, Shun. I'm--" "Don't give me that!" I snarled, whirling around to face her and refusing to yield to pain when it almost blinded me. All of a sudden, rage had flared to life and overwhelmed me. "Don't give me 'sorry'!" I shook my head violently. "I'm sick and tired of that word, I've had enough of--" All of a sudden the sight of Saori-san's right hand reaching out to me and of the unshed tears shining in her eyes registered in my brain. With an effort of will, I interrupted myself and forced the hurtful words back down my throat. Staring at her, I realized what I was doing and to whom I was speaking with anger poisoning my heart. I looked away and took a deep breath to steady myself. Then I said in a toneless voice, "I had no right to say such things, I'm a fool. All that anger, it's not directed at you...it's directed at me. I'm the one who should have listened and stopped while there was still time. I...." Again, I shook my head, unable to go on. There was a long moment of silence during which nobody made a move. Even the Fallen Angels held their peace, thanks to some nameless god. Eventually, I felt a touch on my left arm and I realized that Seiya had walked up to me. The dark brown eyes of my friend were clear; he had been healed. In a slow, deliberate movement he hugged me tight, careful of the deep cut in my flank. When I felt his shoulders shaking with sobs, I hugged him back, distantly wondering why I wasn't the one weeping like a child. I should have cried. It would have been a normal, expected thing to do...but I couldn't. I had no tears left. "Has Michael retreated to Ratson?" Belial wondered aloud, breaking the silence. "I'm surprised the Wardens left as well." "Yes, he's most likely gone to the Hall of Will. They'll make their stand there. Michael is no fool," Lucifer replied in a quiet voice, "Even though he's as close to a berserker as I've seen an angel being, he understood the tide of battle was turning against him when the sword named Death rose truly. As to the Wardens," the Lord of Hell shrugged, a thin, humorless smile on his lips, "Though it pains me to admit it, Michael is a good leader of men. He knew the mortals had no intention of destroying Zakhout. He knows what their goal must be, so he didn't need to give the order to defend. Zakhout's Wardens are fiercely loyal to their Ruling Prince. They'd do anything for him, and they'd follow him anywhere so long as their hall is safe." Abruptly, the amethyst eyes turned towards me and Lucifer said, the tone of his voice carefully neutral, "The best way to grieve for your fallen friend is to go on and realize what you set out to do. Every moment that we waste here might mean defeat. So let your Lady heal you and let's be away from this Hall." I clenched my fists, torn between shame and fury when I heard that. What business had he to meddle in something he couldn't understand? He-- Oh he understands sorrow well enough, remember? Besides, he's right and you know it. Bowing my head, I turned back towards Saori-san, supported by Seiya who hadn't left me, and I focused on the pain in my side, hoping it would eclipse the grief which was ravaging my heart. The gentle flames of Saori-san embraced me, soothing the physical pain and repairing the damage done by Michael's shining blade. From very far away, I watched as the Light healed my body and then tried to reach out to my soul, to be stopped by walls that had been risen by my own inner Fire. Shock mingled with sadness flashed in Saori-san's eyes but I sustained her gaze steadily, refusing to be touched and comforted. I needed the pain, I need it to feed hatred and to keep me going. It was the only thing for me now. Eventually, she turned away from me and faced Sammael. In a dull voice, she asked him, "You were also wounded in this battle. Do you require healing?" A contemptuous snort was the great shadow's reply. "I'm whole, I have no need for human help. We're immortals, we have our own ways of healing." "Good," Saori-san nodded, either unruffled by the Fallen Angel's harsh mockery or unaware of it, locked within herself and struggling with her own grief, "then let's leave this place." Beside her, Ikki-niisan wordlessly stepped over to Hyoga's body and bent down to pick up the Cygnus Saint's lifeless form from the floor. For a fraction of a second, our eyes met and I shivered when I saw the frightening light inflaming his dark grey eyes. Hatred, like my own. There was a lump in my throat as I remembered having seen this same light in my brother's gaze years ago. Ikki-niisan had been a demon in human guise then, a being whose nature had been only vengeance and hatred. A monster who had been bent on revenge against everyone and everything, his heart shattered. It's too late for us. I nodded to myself while the lyrics of a song I loved echoed in my mind like a requiem, acknowledging the truth. Then I followed in my brother's wake. It's all decided for us. "Interesting", Raphael mused while he mentally reached out to the tattered remains of the other archangel's left shoulder. "What's so fascinating?" Michael asked sharply, fury dripping from his tall frame like blood. With a sigh, Raphael directed a small part of his awareness towards the burning Fire's core and willed it to be quiet. "Be still," he said, words always helping when one was dealing with Michael. They allowed the proud archangel to delude himself into thinking that the impulse to obey Raphael's subtle command came from a desire to forestall further reproaches. Michael would have resisted the imposition of another's will on his essence otherwise, out of pure misplaced pride, and Raphael didn't like to spend more energy than he had to. "Your wound," the archangel of healing continued in a thoughtful whisper, gathering the strands of Michael's Light with careful, ethereal fingers, "your opponent's blade really cut deep. If you hadn't escaped it, it'd have cut you in half." Looking at Michael's golden eyes directly, Raphael asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice, as well as something which might have been hunger dancing in his eyes, "Was it truly the sword named Death that struck you down?" "It was," Michael purred, and frightening joy seeped into his voice. "I thought I had been mistaken when I recognized it, but it rose once blood was spilled, awoken by its entrancing scent." Raphael scoffed at that, unable to help himself. He'd forever be surprised and appalled at the other's lust for war. Michael was extremely intelligent, his mind was a formidable weapon, as much as his terrible fighting skills, but all that interested him was battle. It's your only limitation, I guess. Too bad. Michael would have been a perfect companion if it hadn't been for that failing. With a small nod, Raphael refocused on his patient's words and considered the knowledge brought to him for a few seconds before retorting, "Strange. I didn't feel it when I faced them. I suppose it must have been dormant at the time. I should have recognized it, though. After all, I met it on the accursed day the human godlings sealed us. Ah well," Raphael shrugged his puzzlement away, concentrating once more on the task of knitting Michael's shoulder back together. "Never mind. At least I'm glad I understand why," he added with a sly grin, "you came here to lick your wounds." The other archangel tensed under the half-teasing, half-insulting words, and then forcefully Michael relaxed. "One day your smart mouth will be the end of you," he said with a pleasant smile, "I came to Ratson like you did because the threat we face is serious and we must stand before it here, together." Raphael didn't reply, still busy with his delicate work. He knew that Michael was right, he had known it since the moment when he had felt the presence of Fallen ones in Etsem Hachamayim, cloaked into mantles of Light given by one of their own. Even though he recognized the necessity of stopping the small group of mortals and demons in this Hall where they would take their foreordained places, Raphael regretted it. It'd be too swift, there wouldn't be time to gather answers to all the questions the events had given rise to, and that rankled. "Where's Gabriel?" The abruptness of the question made Raphael blink. Even though the harshness in Michael's voice was to be expected, the naked fury which had revealed itself for the time of a heartbeat was frightening. To Michael, loyalty was everything. Betrayal didn't sit well with the great archangel, and Gabriel's insane choices were treason in his eyes. In mine too, I'm just not taking it to heart like him, Raphael thought with an inner smile. Eventually, the archangel of healing shrugged, replying in a quiet whisper, "He's here like you and I. He has gone to stand watch at the Northern Gate, as his duty commands. Leave him alone," Raphael added sternly, again reaching out to steady Michael's wild Fire and prevent the other from moving. "Let him be, and restrain your righteous wrath until all is done. Gabriel's decision was made in Livnat Hasapir, it doesn't apply to Ratson. He'll fight beside us. You'll have to wait until the threat is no more before you can confront him and again exile him, watching in triumph as he Falls." That last sentence was said with mocking irony, and it seemed to hit Michael with enough force to subdue the archangel's high flames, if only a little. After a moment of deep silence, Michael asked, very quietly, "Why? Do you know?" "No," Raphael snorted, unable to completely hide the irritation in his voice, "and I don't think we'll ever understand." Chasing the subject from his thoughts, the archangel gave a gentle pat on his patient's shoulder. "There, I'm done." Michael stood up like a coiled spring and made a few, tentative movements of the left arm before nodding. "It feels whole. My thanks." His golden gaze suddenly set on Raphael and he added, "You play a good game, pretending to be small, but I'm aware of you. No matter how lazy and whimsical you act. Yours is a dreadful power." Raphael laughed, shaking his head in mock denial. "Not at all!" A cold light flickered briefly in the archangel's pale green eyes then he added, smiling, "I'm merely someone who sees and understands the flames of life. They listen to me because I know how to talk to them, and thanks to that I can heal." "Or kill," Michael flatly interrupted, "You can sew Light back together but you can also reach out to it and extinguish it with a single thought." With a snort, Michael turned away. "I know you, Raphael. Never doubt that." The archangel's quiet whisper echoed in the rooms, then he asked in an afterthought, "And what about Uriel, where is he?" "I am here," A calm voice replied in the same time a tall shadow entered the room. Raphael watched the archangel of death with fascination as he stepped into Ratson. Uriel was a dark figure, his long jet black hair and his night-colored clothes an oddity among the Heavenly Host. In truth, he looked more demon than angel, and when the dark scythe was summoned to his hand.... "I stopped by Ahava to order the Wardens there not to engage in combat. I'll go take my appointed post at the Western Gate, "Uriel added with a cold, humorless smile, "and leave you two to plot strategy and ensure a victory which will seal our doom." With those somber words, Uriel turned away and left the room. Raphael's eyes narrowed as he focused on the archangel of death's retreating back, and he whispered almost inaudibly, "I don't know what you're talking about, Uriel." Clenching his teeth, Raphael shook his head and added: "I *can't* know."
End of Chapter 10.
Notes
Ahava: the Hall of Love, the fifth Celestial Hall.
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