Private Tales Brothers

[Zael Castomir]

Volkan smiled down to Gaage. "You've been given your choice, Rogues. What will it be?"

Gaage and Zael—man, could you depend on it—were thinking much the same thing. Volkan wasn't the type to play games, at least not for very long, and the Guardsmen, inching ever closer, were just waiting for the order. If it were only the Guardsmen threatening them, this would be easier; hell, if it were only Volkan threatening them, it might be easier.

But what they had here was a hard call to make.

And, as Gaage gave Zael the subtlest of looks, made with his head the tiniest of gestures, it seemed like Gaage was making it. Because, yeah, it was Gaage's call; he was the one who was going to be in the deep shit. But it needed to be done. Volkan made a promise to kill the girl, and Zael believed every bit in the blackness of that man's heart. He'd do it, even if the fight was over in seconds and there was no need to do anything to her; he might even try to track her down if (no, not if, when) Zael and Gaage got her out of here. But that was something to worry about for later.

"See you on the other side, brother," Zael said quietly to Gaage.

On the other side of this ordeal or on the other side of life. Wherever it ended up being, they could do their catching up there when things were nice and cool.

Zael quickly snatched up the girl, picked her up, and held her to his chest. Then with a blast of propelling fire from his back and from his feet he soared into the air, gliding among the columns of smoke staining all the space above Vel Farris.

Best of luck to ya, Gaage. Give him hell.

Gaage Eberwhit

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

"Yeah, yeah. Just try not to lose your other eye up there, you clumsy bastard." He chirped back at Zael, only moments before he quickly grabbed the girl and blasted himself skyward with an impressively precise jet of flame from his back that flung him up and out of the blazing death trap that was Vel Farris. Gaage followed him with his eyes, but only for a moment; There were more important matters to attend to before he worried about how his brother fared in his escape.

Like the old asshole on the roof who was watching Zael, muttering something under his breath and reaching out his hand. Gaage couldn't for the life of him remember what Volkan specialized in, but he sure as hell wasn't about to let him use it on his best friend when he couldn't defend himself. He quickly drew a small throwing knife from his hip, with a handle of iron and a blade of carved, jagged bone.

No better time to see if his new trick worked in a pinch.

Stepping forward, he flipped the bone knife in his hand and threw it up at Volkan, aiming right for his throat. Of course, it would take more than throwing knives to catch a Dreadlord off guard, and the weapon was dodged easily; Volkan weaved to the side with an unimpressed snarl, still raising a hand out towards the departing Zael who very quickly would feel himself becoming weighed back down towards the ground if Gaage didn't intervene.

Eberwhit waited until the knife had missed before using his own touch of magic to grip the marrow inside the bone blade, guiding it in a tight circle to double back toward Volkan. He couldn't see the hit, but the sharp bark of pain from the older man's lips told him he'd managed to sink the knife somewhere into the Dreadlord's back. His concentration broken, whatever magic he'd been aiming at Zael and the girl as they flew off failed to make a difference, and Volkan stumbled off of the roof, landing on his knees in the dirt before Gaage, the iron handle of his knife jutting from the right side of his back.

"You slimy little rat!" The Dreadlord growled, raising his head as Gaage rushed forwards with another knife, seeking to end things with another blow before they had a chance to get started. Usually, he liked to prolong this kind of thing, but those Guards were getting closer, and the fire was getting hotter. If he could kill a Dreadlord in two blows, not only would he look like one bad motherfucker, but he'd also have a better chance of getting out of here alive. Lunging at Volkan, he thrust the knife at his throat.

He was still far too cocky.

All it took was a second and a wave of his hand and Volkan's density magic took hold of Gaage. One second he was flying towards the Dreadlord, the next he was flat on the ground, unable to move a single limb, pain radiating throughout his body as his bones and muscles throbbed with discomfort, the bone knife lodged halfway into his flesh, resting against his shoulderblade from the fall.

"You have no respect, you filth. To pay such little regard to me, to think you could just slit my throat and be done with me..." The Dreadlord seethed and rose up his foot, bringing it down on the back of Ebwethit's skull "It's incredible how the revolutionaries have failed to instill even the most basic sense in their students. I suppose that's why half of you are washouts and runaways."

Volkan reached behind him, wincing as he withdrew the knife from his back, holding it up, pointed down toward Gaage's nape.

"I'm supposed to bring you in alive, but that doesn't mean you have to be in one piece. Just remember, I gave you a choice."

Zael Castomir Ysobel

 

[Ysobel]

The gray skies had loomed over their tiny cottage all morning. Silent threats to unleash their fury when things got too heavy. Like the conversation that was being held just outside alonside the fence. Gaage and yet another unfamiliar face that just so happened to be passing through their land. And of course with another unannounced visitor came orders from Gaage. All the same as the last time and the time after. Stay inside. Keep away from the windows. Don’t draw attention to yourself. As if anyone had been looking for her. As if she needed protection from the people she begged him to let her join.

He hadn’t even said goodbye before the sounds of his horse taking off became known to her. Fucking asshole.

To him, the pouring rain may have seemed like a natural consequence of the changing seasons but each drop was meticulously placed with a force that grew stronger as he rode through the trees. Had he even noticed she was following him? Did he realize how peculiar it was when the rainfall ceased the moment he breached the border between the woods and Vel Farris, the gloomy gray clouds replaced by the billowing smoke from the town now in ruin?

Unlikely.

It was his obliviousness that would allow her to follow behind, her own horse racing through the path caked with mud. But unlike Gaage, she would remain at the edge of the tree line, her petite silhouette a union of shadows and sparks, an omen of the impending chaos.

Even the blind could see that something bad was happening, but as Ysobel’s eyes scanned the area she was unable to determine exactly what this threat was. Had Gaage been sent to stop an army from razing a town? Certainly Gilram had people for menial tasks like this. And if all Gilram had to offer was work with the same difficulty she faced at the academy then Gaage had no reason to push her from joining.

She heard little of what was transpiring over the sound of buildings collapsing into one another, but she could see that the men had changed course and seemed to be coalescing around a figure standing high above the rest. She crept closer, a cloak of shimmering lightning trailing behind in the grass as she was greeted by the unmistakable sounds of a conflict. Gaage and some other man the obvious center of it.

A rather convenient opportunity arose for the man shooting through the sky as Ysobel’s dark clouds engulfed him and the child to allow them a safe escape while the tiny blonde approached.

Stepping forward, the air crackled in anticipation of her arrival. The burning scent of ozone would begin to pierce the nostrils of those closest to her- an introduction to the storm she wielded. Tiny arcs of lightning arced throughout her golden locks with each calculated stride forward and soon she would find an opening in the crowd of guards only to be greeted by an older man standing over Eberwhit.

He was going to get himself killed and he hadn’t even said goodbye.

She was a force of nature, a conduit to the wrath of the skies. Or perhaps it was the other way around. With a subtle twist of her hand, the first bolt of lightning seared through the air. Past the first set of men. Past Gaage. Past Volkan. Yes, she’d been out of commission for quite some time, but the wicked smile on her face made it clear that she hadn’t missed her first target.

Just past the pair, her bolt would strike the pooling water at a group of guardsmen’s feet and quickly spread throughout their bodies.

Toasted.

Gaage Eberwhit Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

The clouds, like a low ceiling over Vel Farris, were something that Zael did not expect but took as a kind of fortune. At first he'd thought it to be smoke drifting into his flight, but the strong, stinging, acrid smell was missing. Whatever the cause, he had a firm measure of concealment now, and in any case he had to get away.

Behind him and below there came the crackle and thunder of battle. Magic—it sounded like something Vance might have cooked up. Volkan's magic maybe, because it definitely wasn't Gaage's. The girl clinging to him shivered with fright upon hearing it.

"Hey, what's your name?" Zael asked. Another jet of flame from his back, the bottoms of his feet, kept him aloft, and though he was used to the crush of acceleration he knew the girl wasn't; that and the sound of arcane battle behind them had to be terrifying enough. So he tried getting her mind off of it.

"H-Heather," she said, her voice made taut by fright and all but pressed into his breastplate, wherein her face was hidden. "Heather Hahn."

"We're gettin out of here, Heather. We're gettin out of here and ain't nobody is gonna stop us."

Tiny, fragile, her voice and her words stretched to breaking. "I'm scared."

"I know."

"They killed them."

"That's not what's gonna happen to you."

Zael's hair fluttered up in his descent, rapid at first and then slow, and from the clouds and the smoke did he emerge and on the other side of the town's walls did his feet come to touch the ground in controlled fashion. He didn't bother setting Heather down, he just carried her, ran with her.

She wasn't going to like it...but he needed to find a place to hide her. His brother was back there, paying Kress knew how dearly for the purchase of Zael and Heather's escape. If there was anything in his power that he could do to get Gaage the hell out of there, he wasn't going to hesitate.

Gaage Eberwhit Ysobel

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

There were a million thoughts running through Gaage's head all at once in that moment, waiting for his own knife to be buried into his flesh. How easily he'd had the floor wiped with him, the blatant mistake he'd made in charging a senior Dreadlord, the fact he'd never see his child, never see Ysobel or Zael ever again. It was a paralyzing feeling, even moreso than the debilitating weight applied to him by Volkan's magic.

All that Eberwhit managed to muster in response to the taunting of the man with his foot on his head was a muffled "Fuck you." That final act of rebellion all he had the strength for, Gaage clenched his eyes shit, tucked his head against the dirt underneath him, and waited for the pain to wash over him.

It never came.

Just as Volkan readied himself to render the sniveling little exile quite unable to scamper away any longer, a sudden pressure in the air made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Above the canopy of black smoke that the raging inferno had built over Vel Farris, the skies darkened with the rage of a brewing storm, the anger of crackling lightning...

And the wrath of Gaage Eberwhit's very angry lover.

Lightning whizzed past Volkan's head, missing him only by inches, and flew towards one of the two approaching groups of Guards. The Dreadlord took his foot off of Gaage's skull, turning in the direction the bolt had come from with seemingly no concern for the guards who'd just taken the brunt of that sudden attack. They were expendable, and he had a new worry to concern himself with.

"Ysobel. So this is where you've run off to? Dallying about with traitors? You're a Dreadlord! I expected better of you!"

Volkan stepped closer, sullen eyes boring a hole in the blonde woman. The older man felt the beads of rain beginning to fall on his head and scoffed. Such showmanship for one with so little discipline. "Though perhaps I shouldn't have. Obviously you're as soft and malleable as the rest of your class."

Gaage turned his head, Volkan's magic slowly weakening as his focus turned elsewhere. Ysobel? Here? Part of him wanted to be angry, wanted to panic at her presence. She was putting their child in incredible danger coming anywhere near a territory of Vel Anir, let alone one teeming with Guards and a Dreadlord.

He couldn't really find it in himself to be angry though. She wouldn't have had to come save his ass if his ass didn't need saving. He smiled, a rush of pride welling up in his chest as he quietly propped himself on his uninjured arm, rising to his knees. Maybe he wouldn't have been able to take Volkan alone, but...

He and Yoh were always one hell of a team.

Reaching out with his good arm, Eberwhit summoned the knife Volkan had taken from him, yanking the bone blade out of the Dreadlord's grip with a tug of magic, and causing his arm to fly back, and his feet to stumble, ever so slightly.

Now, Yoh.

Ysobel Zael Castomir

 

[Ysobel]

Volkan spoke and she listened, but Ysobel’s eyes were locked onto Gaage as he lay on the ground. Her expression showed her obvious fury with only the faintest hint of worry for her moron’s wellbeing. She stood her ground, her chest slowly rising up and down with each deep breath she used as a crutch to control her emotions. While she could keep them from showing on her face, the droplets of water seemed to grow faster and harder with each insult thrown her way. Now matter how inaccurate they may have been.

“I never ran away.” Technically untrue… However, the letters she left for Caeso and Lumen served to bring them to one conclusion- one in which they wouldn’t have looked for her. One in which she had taken her life.

..as soft and malleable as the rest of your class…

Her head turned, her eyes aglow with the brilliance of the storm charged skies now locked onto Volkan with an unwavering focus. Electricity flowed through her veins as she stepped closer with no regard for the guards. Arcs of her lightning danced over her skin and through her hair, a warning if one was perceptive. One guard made the poor decision to try to grab the little blonde but would soon face the same fate as his fallen comrades.

May he rest in peace.

She moved with a strange, otherworldly grace- her steps synchronized with the rhythm of the storm. It was unfortunate, the “condition” she was in, as Chasmine once mentioned. She wanted nothing more than to sprint at the old man and tackle him like she had those elves back on the first mission she shared with Gaage. Take him out the quick and dirty way and then get the fuck out of there with Gaage in tow but as it now was, he wanted to fight it out. She would oblige.

Her control over the storms deepened as he appeared to stumble. She conjured a whirling cyclone of wind that would crash into him As soon as he lost balance, her other hand rose. Bolts of lightning formed a dazzling display of her prowess, crashing down from the sky and surrounding the trio. Her and Gaage were now trapped with Volkan.

Or rather, they were trapped with her.

 

[Zael Castomir]

"No!"

"Listen to me, and you'll be alright."

Zael had run a fair distance from the outskirts of Vel Farris. Such took longer than if he had Fire Jumped, but he was fearful of the noise, fearful of potentially being seen even though those chances were slim. With his Fireblood, he was at least able to cut down on the time running and weaving through the trees and undulating landscape. He was no Silas, but he could work up a respectable speed. Zael had come cross a little den on a downslope, nearly having rushed right by it, and there he stopped and set Heather down and tucked her inside the earthen hiding spot.

She was, naturally, none too happy about this.

"I don't want you to go! Please don't go!" she said, clutching onto one of his hands with both of hers.

"My brother is back there. Fightin."

"He doesn't look like your brother!" So full of fright and alarm, Heather was trying anything to convince him to stay.

"But he is," Zael said calmly and with such an honest conviction that one could easily believe, if they never saw him and Gaage side by side, that they indeed came from the same mother. "And it's only because of him that we got away. I won't leave him hangin. Not if I can do anythin about it. Because that's what brothers do for each other."

"What...what am I going to do?"

"Wait here. Don't answer to anyone but me or Gaage. And if I'm not back within an hour, you run west—that way." Zael pointed. "You run all the way to Vel Stratholm and you don't stop until you're there. Okay?"

The girl just whimpered pitifully.

"Let me hear you say okay, sunshine," Zael coaxed gently.

"...okay."

"Good." And with that, Zael stood. He'd a brief moment as he hurried back up the sloping incline wondering what the future looked like for Heather. Chances were she didn't have magic, and wouldn't have to worry at all about the Academy or Dreadlords or Rogues or anything. But she would be conscripted into the Guard for her mandatory military service. How in the hell was that even going to work? Especially if she was placed into the Army of the East. Did the Republic just expect her to be a good little Anirian and to "do her duty" after that same Guard came and torched her home, killed her family, and left her all alone?

But Zael had his hands more than full with the fight to free the Dreadlords. And he couldn't lose sight of that.

He got a good distance away from Heather's hiding spot, and then took off into the air again, seeing ahead the dark stormclouds which formed an ominous funnel over the ceiling of Vel Farris. Everleigh had once asked him a question about charging right through a storm.

Today he would.

Gaage Eberwhit Ysobel Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

Gaage had witnessed firsthand Ysobel's wrath before, but never to this degree. He wasn't the target of her rage but even he felt himself wince and his muscles tighten as she approached with footsteps tied to the deafening crackle of thunder around them. Her eyes, her hair, her very skin was alight with all of the fury of a raging maelstrom, and even Volkan, long since recovered from the momentary stumble, found himself in the slightest amount of awe at the sight.

The admiration didn't last long; A sudden burst of wind collided with him square in the chest, sending him down to a knee and knocking the breath from his lungs. Clutching at his wounded and bleeding shoulder, Gaage rose to his feet and quickly fled towards his partner, his head craned behind him to keep a close watch on their foe.

"Yell at me later." Gaage panted as he turned to stand beside Ysobel, no small amount of pain behind his voice. "Deal with him first..."

By the time a cage of raw electricity had come down from on high to surround the trial, Volkan was back on his feet and snarling like a feral beast. Despite their best efforts, his wounds remained superficial at the very most. The old Dreadlord seemed to pay little mind to the prison around them, his seething rage focused entirely on the pair of insolent children in front of him.

"You're all style and no substance, the lot of you." Volkan glowered, "Three times now, you could have killed me, if only you'd been taught properly, if only you had the talent to fight like a true Dreadlord, not some cheap imitation." Again his arms were spreading, palms pointed up at the sky. Volkan's limbs seemed to change shape; flexing and bulking as though he bore an intense weight. The storm that Ysobel had brewed fluctuated, struggling to maintain it's form. The clouds would break, allowing beams of sunlight in, before darkening again. Even Yoh's power could not totally contain it, as Volkan asserted himself.

"His magic... I think he can manipulate density and weight. One second I was fine, and the next... Gods, it felt like I weighed a thousand pounds." Gaage had taken the brief reprieve to rip off a strip of his clothing and wrap his bleeding wound, to stem the flow until he could be treated properly. Looking beside him at his savior, he gave a small smile and nodded towards their current problem. "Can I count on you to keep him busy while I play hero again?"

Ysobel
Zael Castomir

 

[Ysobel]

Gaage would be met with little more than a silent side-eye from Ysobel as she offered him a moment to collect himself. Yell at him, she would. All in due time.

You’re all style….

“Why thank you.” Ysobel curtsied, ignoring the latter half of his statement.

Volkan had a point, though. There had been a number of opportunities she alone could have taken to execute him, but he hadn’t considered that she was just deluded enough to be curious about Gaage’s mission and how it ended with a Dreadlord at his throat…

Again, they could discuss that later she supposed.

The clashing thunder that echoed around Vel Farris had reached its crescendo and a sudden eerie stillness descended. The swirling chaos was suspended to allow the breaking sunlight to peek through and for a moment her attention was captivated by the way that the Dreadlord shifted his very being.

Although Gaage spoke, she still focused all of her attention on Volkan in a fruitless attempt to maintain her celestial onslaught. Her face didn’t show the same joy that he seemed to upon approaching his girl friend (?). Rather, she could not hide the fear in her eyes as she turned to him, grabbing his upper arm tightly and pulling him down to her level.

“Gaage Eberwhit I will try my best…but if playing hero is what gets you killed I swear to the heavens I will drag you back here so I can kill you myself.”

She pushed him back, pivoted on the balls of her feet and began to weave intricate patterns in the air until the skies responded to the call. Arcs of lightning surged toward Volkan from all directions, yet he seemed to anticipate every shot and with his powers he was able to redirect them harmlessly into the ground. Ysobel didn’t quit however and would continue weaving as long as Gaage needed, turning in the cage into a dance of the elements.

Gaage Eberwhit Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Volkan easily grounded the arcs of lightning from Ysobel, demonstrating clearly his raw power, providing proof that the young ought fear the old. His prowess was more than merely the pinnacle of his magical might reached through refinement of all his combined years; it was that of a game master, who could foresee the moves his opponents would make, to counter them in his mind even before he countered them in the world.

He was the one man the Army of the East entrusted with the destruction of Vel Farris. He was the one man the Army of the East knew would see to the death of the Rogue Dreadlord Zael Castomir—and what a delightful bonus, these others. He was the sole Dreadlord accompanying the 9th Homeguard, for none other was needed.

Volkan would see his mission done, and two Rogues—Dreadlords scarcely more than Initiates, scarcely weened off of the Academy's teet—would not stop him. What a terrible mistake they both had made, failing to capitalize and kill him, and this three times over. But they lacked the experience that came only with time and accumulated years of doing...and now, they never would acquire it.

Enough of this, this gaudy display of lightning. Time to end this distraction.

Yet.

Coming down from that break in the clouds, sailing down the spear of sunlight which had been allowed to pierce through Ysobel's storms, a figure. Growing quickly as it approaching. Flying swiftly. Jets of flame flaring from its sides, its back.

Zael was plummeting like an arrow down toward Volkan from behind, his sword held up and back, ready to deliver a slash as he zipped by. His sole eye blazed with a blue intensity, a supreme focus.

But Volkan, his situational awareness keen and deadly, picked out the sounds of Zael's Fire Jumping amidst all the commotion of the burning town of Vel Farris and the loud crackle of lightning and knew he was coming. Without even so much as looking back, Volkan raised a hand and swiped it off to his left.

An entire burning home was uprooted from the ground and launched at Zael, intercepting him well before he came close enough to engage Volkan. With an almighty crash did the house collide with another, and a great catastrophe of smoke and dust and ash and debris choked the street behind Volkan...

...and this noxious cloud indeed rushed up the street and plunged the fight into fearful obscurity, vanishing even Gaage and Ysobel from each other, such was the dearth of visibility now.

Gaage Eberwhit Ysobel

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

Gaage wouldn't have expected any less of a response from the crazy-ass woman who'd grabbed ahold of his heart, and he nodded back to her. "Don't be gentle with me."

As the heat of battle began to rise once more, however, it became increasingly clear that the likelihood of the two of them having any time together above-ground faded with every attack that Volkan shrugged off like an annoying gnat buzzing about his ear. They'd lost the advantage they'd so briefly gained when he'd been caught off guard, and now the brutal and battle-tested Dreadlord gave no quarter.

Volkan's guard seemed impenetrable; his mastery over density and gravity allowed him to push the searing bolts of lightning aside like the inexperienced punches of a child. Gaage opted to use the freshly slain Guardsmen he stood amongst as his weapons, summoning spears of jagged bone from their flesh and sending them sailing from all angles toward the walking weapon of mass destruction.

He may as well have tried to tickle him for all the good it did. They might have done some damage if they'd connected, but Volkan's damned gravity powers made them fall to the ground like useless kid's toys. Damnit, he knew firsthand this old fuck wasn't sturdy. Hell, they probably would only need a few direct hits to take him out of the picture, but he was too damned hard to hit!

"This isn't fuckin' working..." He growled, gathering another mass of bone to act as a short wall to shield them from retaliation. "If I could get a little bit closer without him slamming me like a god-damned troll..." Gaage had a workaround for the 'not being able to hit him' thing, but he couldn't close the distance between them to even give it a shot! His new makeshift shield took a hit, and he heard the cracking of bones as he winced at the impact.

Then, a pause, the distant sound of crackling fire. Closer... even closer now.

Eberwhit peeked his head out from behind his cover just in time to see a flaming figure soaring down from the sky, lit up like a bolt born from the sun itself. "Finally... about time you came back around, lazy ass..." He felt himself smile; Zael's presence didn't guarantee victory, but three-on-one was better than two-on-one any day of the damned week.

A rush of wind beat against his back, and he turned his head around to see a burning house hurdling through the air over their heads. Gaage reached out and grabbed Ysobel, pulling her down to the ground with him as the building whizzed above them and arched up towards Zael, colliding with another building and filling the entire town with a could of smokey debris.

In the span of about one second, all visibility was cut off. He could barely see the woman he clung too as the dust cloud swallowed all of them up.

It was the shot he'd been waiting for.

"Alright, I'm going for it before the bastard can see us again..." He muttered to Ysobel, quickly leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. "I love you so fucking much, don't you ever forget that, Yoh."

That final message delivered, Gaage sprang out from behind the bone wall and followed the faint traces of Volkan's muscles and bones like a rope through a blizzard

 

[Ysobel]

Ysobel let her guard down as the clouds opened up.

There he was.

A beacon of hope and light piercing through the raging darkness like a meteor across the night sky. She hadn’t recognized who he was, but Gaage made it unmistakably clear that this figure would be their saving grace. She wanted to believe that they finally had the upper hand in this situation she never wanted to be a part of in the first place.

The moment, however, was short lived as she witnessed the buildings collide in his path. Time slowed as reality finally set in. They were absolutely, positively fucked.

She could feel Gaage pull her towards the ground, but her eyes only remained locked on the sky as her storms mixed with the debris. She had given him a thick and humid covering and she prayed it would be enough to mask him as he made his attempt to get in close to the threat. Zael, too, if he was still alive.

It seemed impossible.

“Please.” She dug her nails into the skin she could barely see as he placed his quick farewell kiss. “Don’t do something stupid. I need you to live…for us.” Her fearful words were delivered as his silhouette vanished from her sight and she would be left wondering if he listened.

Ysobel was now alone, on her hands and knees as the polluted air engulfed her. Each breath a struggle, a desperate gasp for survival. Her hope dwindled with the last of the pure air. Her breaths became shallower and in the face of her impending suffocation she would make one last attempt to aid her comrades.

Summoning the last of her reserves, Ysobel pressed her hands into the dirt. Lightning flowed through her veins and sparked from her fingertips racing along the murky ground in all directions as her destruction searched for a target, scarring the ground in the process.

Amidst the crackles of her lightning spreading outward, Ysobel surrendered and accepted whatever fate now held for them.

 

[Zael Castomir]

"You never was gonna amount to nothin, boy," said Zael's father. Staring down at him as Zael was crushed by fiery debris. Just like when he was six years old, trapped in the burning mill, seconds before his father abandoned him to his fate.

And, as then, so now: Zael couldn't move.

His father crouched down, his disdainful gaze coming a bit closer. "You know what you are, boy?"

Zael said nothing. His nostrils flared with a quiet anger.

"An irresponsible load."

His father made a rueful sucking sound with his tongue, teeth, lips.

"I shot my seed into a woman who was never supposed to receive it. And then you popped out. You ruined the good thing we was havin, boy." His father scoffed. "Didn't even have the damn courtesy to be stillborn."

Zael glared with a blazing contempt at him.

His father entwined his hands together and said, "Heard you went Rogue, boy." He smiled. "I'll be there, in the crowd. When they catch ye. When they hang ye. When yer up there in them gallows swingin by the neck. And you know what I'll say? 'Nineteen years late.'"

"I ain't got time for you."

"Where the hell do you think yer goin? The hell you think yer gonna do?"

"I'm gonna fight alongside my brother."

His father snorted out a laugh. "You ain't got no brother."

That unnatural blue of Zael's eye, ice cold in the middle of the swelling inferno. "I do have a brother," he spat. "Just not a father."​

And with this did Zael awake, right in the middle of wreckage much the same from his short dream, and began to claw his way out.

Gaage Eberwhit Ysobel

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

Spoiler

“Don’t do something stupid. I need you to live…for us.”

Gaage had been listening, and he sure as hell didn't have any intention to die now. Maybe a few months ago, the idea of an early grave would have appealed to him, when he'd been left alone and forced to face the mistakes he'd made for the entirety of his life.

Then, that stubborn blonde girl had thundered her way back into his life like a sudden summer storm. Finally, he was so close to having everything he'd wanted for so long: Love, a family, the freedom to do whatever he wanted, to be his own person... It was all within his reach, so close that he could taste it.

Right now, Volkan was standing in the way of all of it. If he didn't do anything now, the Dreadlord was going to put an end to it all anyway. Ysobel was lost in the miasma, and Zael was either buried in rubble or knocked unconscious by the impact of a damned building being tossed at him.

Nobody to bail him out this time, nobody pulling his ass out of the fire again. This was his one chance to make up for all the mess he'd made, to Yoh for leaving, to Zael for not being strong enough to stand by his side at Graduation.

Hell if he was going to squander it.

Eberwhit held his breath as much as he could as he followed the faint traces of Volkan's aura through the toxic, grainy dust that filled the air around him, and his lungs burned like a hog over a fire every time he took a step forward. When he did need to take a breath, he pulled the thick fur on the shoulders of his coat up over his mouth to act as a filter, for what it was worth. It was enough to keep him standing, but not much more than that.

Course, he couldn't see a damned thing, and he was going on the pull of his magic alone. The upside to that was that Volkan couldn't see either, and when he finally got a glimpse of the so-called "Army of the East" through the thick curtain of ash and smoke that permeated every pore of his skin, he was still looking over to where he'd tossed the building at Zael, the smarmy motherfucker so sure he'd wiped him out. For Castomir's sake, he better have survived. Gaage would kick his ass in the afterlife, probably after he delivered that news to his purple-haired sweetheart back home.

Gaage rested on one knee, keeping himself low to the ground as he watched the space he'd briefly seen Volkan, waiting for the slightest hint of movement. Despite Ysobel's pleas, this was stupid. Unbelievably so, but... He'd never accomplished anything in his life by being smart and conservative. The moment he felt Volkan's muscles twitch, he sprang up and lunged forward, reaching out and wrapping his arms around the first thing they found.

Volkan's own arm. And without enough time to shift gravity, the stubborn old bastard couldn't push Gaage away unless he wanted to go down with him.

Here goes everything.

"Let's see you deflect this, you dusty old fuck." He hissed through gritted teeth, debris in the wind cutting at his face, drowning out the surprised swear from the Dreadlord's lips as Gaage poured every last ounce of magic he had left into Volkan's arm. He was going to sever every muscle, shatter every bone, separate every joint until he ripped this asshole's arm clean off. He could feel his body deteriorating in his grip, the sinew unraveling at his call, the bones rattling as they shook apart under the force of his power. Blows came down from Volkan's other arm, heavy and powerful, battering his face relentlessly. He felt his nose crack, warm bitter liquid passing through his lips, one hit knocked the vision in one eye white, left him seeing stars.

He didn't let go. Not this time

Was it enough?

Only one way to find out.

With all the air he had left, Gaage shouted and yanked back, trying to take Volkan's limb with him.

Ysobel Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Physically, magically, Volkan resisted. But such was the vulnerability that Gaage had caught the senior Dreadlord in that the result proved inevitable. Here affirmed in the burning center of Vel Farris the primal truth that despite one's great power and skill, it took merely one mistake, one lapse, one moment to endanger it all. The greatest of swordsmen could be felled by the smallest blades, the most renowned of mages by the simplest spells, if only such a blade or such a spell caught them at the right time.

What Gaage unleashed upon Volkan resounded the immutable fact of the latter's mortality. And with a dreadful chorus of tearing flesh and cracking bone did Gaage claim as his trophy Volkan's arm.

Volkan hollered. Staggered back. But he was nothing if not a Dreadlord, an old Dreadlord, a man who embodied the time-tested adage of "If a Dreadlord can still breathe, he will still fight." Terribly injured, Volkan nevertheless instinctively readied and unleashed his density magic, seeking to again flatten Gaage onto the ground.

"Your resistance will break," Volkan growled. "And then you will be crushed like every other foe who has defied me."

From the obscurity of the dust, however, a flash of light and a BOOM.

And Zael, much like how he had attacked Proctor Malaneaux during the Bloody Graduation, came sailing out from the choking cloud, sword gripped in both hands and angled forward like a spear. Plumes of wing-like fire coursed from his back, propelling him, driving him at speed toward Volkan. And this time, Volkan didn't have time to intercept him.

Zael plunged his sword deep into Volkan's chest.

Yet Volkan, a monster of a man and possessed of that indomitable old will, managed with his magic to hold his ground and not be bowled over by the force of Zael's impact. He seized Zael by the throat with his one hand, and with so powerful a grip upon him did he slam Zael straight down onto the ground with a force devastating enough to leave Zael completely stunned and reeling.

Missing an arm. Sword sticking out of his chest. Still Volkan refused to quit, refused to die. He turned his attention back onto Gaage. Blood dribbled from Volkan's mouth and he ignored it. His voice had a phlegmy texture to it as he said, "Where was I?"

He would prepare his magic again for another assault.

Gaage Eberwhit Ysobel

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Gaage's body as he felt the flesh underneath his fingertips begin to rip, felt the bone underneath crack and break under the pressure he placed on it. In a single visceral and fluid motion, Gaage fell back onto the dirt, knocking the air out of himself with the prize of a Dreadlord's arm to take home with him. Volkan's blood shot like a pulsing fountain from the wound, paining his attacker in his blood and leaving the taste of two's blood in Eberwhit's mouth.

As grievous a strike it was, and as musical as the rotten old fuck's yelp of pain was to his ears, it seemed to be for nothing. No sooner had his back hit the dirt did a freshly enraged Volkan redoubled efforts to compress the red-haired runaway into a pancake against the road, waves of crushing pressure squeezing every attempt to breathe out of Gaage's chest before he had a chance to savor the dust-filled air that cut at his throat. The only thing he could move was his eyes, and it was with those dilated pupils that he watched as the man standing over him added layer upon layer of force, squeezing the life out of him until...

Until he began to glow?

A strange light began to pierce the blanket of fog behind Volkan, and for a moment Gaage wondered if it was the 'light' he wasn't supposed to walk into or some silly metaphorical shit like that. It wasn't until the light erupted into a blinding flash that he realized what the glow was, and by then it was far too late for even Volkan to react in time, looking up just as Zael's blade plunged into his chest, so deeply that the tip protruded from his back. The Dreadlord's magic relented its assault on Gaage with the sudden shock to the caster, and Eberwhit inhaled deeply, the fuzzy edges of his vision clearing as oxygen was allowed to fill his lungs again.

His mind was still numb and reeling from the brush with death, the only thoughts that came to his head as he rolled onto his hands and knees were simple words, instinctual phrases of a wounded man with one final opportunity to strike. Zael was down, another thunderous slam sending him to the earth in what was a ridiculous show of strength from somebody who should have been dead already.

Get up. Move fast. Kill him now.

There couldn't be much left in this big bastard. A missing arm and a sword through his chest? No, even an Archon would struggle to muster up any magic with that kind of damage. This was the only shot Gaage had left to put this fucker six feet under, and there was only one idea that came to his head of how to do it. His grip tightened on The old Dreadlord's arm.

By the time Volkan had regained his bearings and turned his attention back to Gaage, he was back on his feet, wiping at his bloodied, sneering face with the palm of one hand, his other still gripping the arm he'd just ripped off. Already he could feel the gravity around him beginning to increase again, though the rate at which Volkan could raise the pressure seemed to have been handicapped by his wounds.

Stepping back, a look of fear crossed over his face, his shoulders slouching as though he could shink to nothing and hide away from his fate. "You were..." He mumbled back, his words a bit slurred from a swollen lip. "About to kill me." It was almost a whimper, the way he said it, taking another step back in the hopes to bait Volkan just one step closer.

Okay, one shot at this...

Gaage waited until Volkan's magic was once again almost enough to make him buckle, and the old man drew closer to apply even more weight to his shoulders. Only then did he drop the act of feigned fear, his lips curling back into a scowl as he raised Volkan's arm and pointed the severed end at its owner's head.

"But then my family showed up and saved me. Fuck off and die."

Draining himself dry of any remaining strength, and the residual magic still lingering in Volkan's arm, he launches every one of the jagged and broken bones from the limb as high-speed projectiles, sending them flying at the man's face at a blistering speed.

Zael Castomir Ysobel

 

[Zael Castomir]

The barrage pelted Volkan with a merciless ferocity. A singular jolt rocked the whole of his body, and afterward he seemed to freeze on the spot, as if caught in a basilisk's stare. Then the elder Dreadlord, standing atop his long and distinguished career of dealing death, found in his final moment that he, too, was not immune to that which he had dispensed for so many years. Volkan tumbled backward like a tree felled, and he was dead before his back struck the ground.

Zael had yet to notice. Still he lay on the ground where Volkan had slammed him, his arms and his legs slowly and meekly flopping this way and that in a purposeless effort. His whole head had been rattled by that thundering impact: there was an awful pressure in his skull, his whole body felt like a sack of rocks, his eyes and ears were nothing but sources of pain as the light and sound of all Vel Farris pierced his brain like plunging daggers, and he wouldn't have been able to say his own name and tell anybody where he was currently if asked. He was, in truth, concussed.

In short, his whole world had been thrown out of alignment by Volkan, and it was still readjusting. He wasn't just popping right back up onto his feet after the house and the slam.

Gaage Eberwhit Ysobel

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

Finally, with a salvo of his own broken, razor-sharp bones riddling his body with wounds that sank deep into his flesh through skin, muscle and organ, Gaage watched as Volkan, The Army of the East, fought no more. The old man's body collapsed in a broken heap, but there was no sound-- Not over the still crackling embers surrounding him, over the dust in his ringing ears, over his own deafening breath as he tossed the disembodied arm in his hands aside and dropped to his hands and knees.

With that final attack, Gaage had completely sealed his fate. Up until now, he could have reneged on all of this, could have returned home, faced the music, maybe even a reduced sentence for his crimes. After all, he hadn't taken part in the most egregious of the acts performed by Gilram's exiles. Now? Now he'd killed a Dreadlord. Vel Anir would kill him on sight. There was no going back. For the rest of his life, Gaage Eberwhit would be spoken of as a traitor, as a dissenter, and a criminal against his own people.

This isn't what he'd wanted.

There were wet speckles on the dirty ground underneath him, small spots where drops had fallen from somewhere up above. Gaage convinced himself they weren't his tears, that they must be some remnant of Ysobel's magic, petering out up in the sky. He almost really believed it too, that the pain in his chest was from the battle, and not from some silly sentiment he still held for that stupid fucking Academy...

Gaage wasn't sure how long he knelt there in the dirt, but when he heard Zael mumbling and thrashing about like a fish pulled from the ocean, he brought his wrist up to his face to wipe the tears and blood from his cheek. The feelings going through his head right now didn't change the fact that he still had work left to do. Ignoring the jolts of pain in his body as he stood, Eberwhit limped over to where his brother writhed in confusion. The blow to his head had knocked him absolutely loony, but the fact he was built like a brick shithouse had saved him from any life-threatening injury.

"Stop that, you look like a jackass." He muttered, knowing Zael probably wasn't hearing him. Leaning over and looping one of his arms under his shoulder, he pulls Castomir up to his feet as best he can, grimacing as the armored man's weight bears on him. The half-concious man was at least able to place his feet on the ground, but as he began to lead his friend back towards where he'd left Ysobel he kne that if he let go for one second the big bastard was going down like a tree.

The clouds obscuring his vision had begun to clear without any more magic to stir the air, and while the fires had been blown away by Ysobel's storm and Volkan's winds, all it had left behind were skeletons where buildings had once stood; charred supports and piles of burnt rubble.

And a young woman, blonde and dirtied with soot and dust, laying curled up on the road in front of them. Gaage had to swallow the instinct to rush to her side, lest Zael fall back down and he be unable to hoist him to his feet again. That momentary terror that came with seeing her immobile, unable to respond to his presence, it washed over him like cold water and he felt his jaw tighten, if only to hold back her name.

Ysobel, the baby... Gods, he should have just let her work like she wanted. She wouldn't have felt the need to do all this...

He had all the time in the world to chastise himself for his stubbornness as the broken and bloodied Exile exited what remained of Vel Farris, his dazed and confused brother held up by one arm, and the unconscious love of his life and mother of his child held up by other. There was a long walk to get back home from the collapsed gates of the town.

And Gaage had a lot of thinking he needed to do.

Ysobel Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Through the fog of his concussion, there was one thing which Zael could firmly grasp, this like a floating piece of debris that was his salvation from drowning.

"Heather..." he managed to say. With a bent arm and pointing finger that barely ascended above waist-level, he pointed (in what he hoped) was the right direction. That part was difficult to ascertain, as, even though some cognizance of where he was and what he was doing had come back to him as Gaage helped him along, still his sense of direction promised to be only marginally accurate at best.

"Heather..." he would say again.

The least they could do for the orphaned girl was get her, in due time, somewhere safe.

Gaage Eberwhit Ysobel

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

Gaage's grip on Zael tightened as he spoke, his words muffled and mumbled, yet unmistakable. Even with half his brains scrambled...

"I got her." He replied quietly, glancing down at the rocked man in his arm. "Don't worry."

Zael's directions weren't entirely accurate, and finding Heather took a little bit of time. Luckily, Gaage still had his ability to sense life. He followed Heather's heartbeat like a beacon, eventually spotting the spot where he'd stashed the little girl away.

She said something to him. A lot of somethings, actually. Eberwhit's mind was too exhausted to process, to care, really. In killing Volkan, he'd saved the two most important people to him, yet he'd also killed a part of himself he'd never gone without before. It had been dying for months, but... he'd ended it with a stab through the heart. Quickly, definitively.

He just nodded along, letting his feet carry him back step by slow step towards safety. Towards home.

Hours bled together. Time flowed like a river. Gaage didn't remember anything about the trip itself; It wasn't until he placed Ysobel onto their bed and stabilized Zael on the couch with Heather watching over him that he allowed himself to sit in the kitchen and sob like a child.

He wasn't even sure why he was crying, and he couldn't remember the last time he had. Even when Delaney had left, he just... held it in. Maybe this was everything at once, leaving home, becoming an exile, losing one love for another, killing a Dreadlord and losing the place he'd always had, the friends he'd left behind, narrowly escaping the loss of everything and everyone he cared about.

He was so tired.

Zael Castomir Ysobel

 

[Ysobel]

Too many hours had passed since Ysobel became the most useless savior in a fight she had no business being near. The scent of burnt ozone lingered around her body as she lay on the bed alone. Slowly, she began to regain consciousness as the fresh air filled her lungs. A gentle buzzing was a precursor to the involuntary shock her body released as her eyes fluttered open. Disoriented, she pushed herself up feeling the residual heat of the singed bedspread beneath her fingertips.

She was home. Well, not home home, but her new home.

She winced as she finally sat upright and surveyed the room. Her clothing bore marks on the sleeves where she’d scorched it and everything on her body was coated in a mixture of ash, dirt and rain. Beyond the door she could hear rustling. A child’s voice. The sound of a man crying- Gaage crying. A chill ran down her spine, one hand instinctively moving to her stomach.

Slowly, Ysobel rose to her feet using a bedpost as support. Kress, she was useless enough during the fight, she had no excuse to be exhausted and useless. She truly was a shameful excuse for a girl who’d spent her entire childhood training to be an expert with her magic. It was embarrassing.

She opened the door cautiously and entered the dimly lit room where she could see the silhouette of Gaage, shoulders shaking with the weight of all of his emotions finally coming forth. The blonde’s heart skipped a beat as she watched her lover, huddled alone. Consumed by his sorrows. Silently, she made her way towards him and from behind she slipped her arms around his torso tightly, resting her head on top of his.

She didn’t press him for answers, holding him tightly and offering her warm embrace as he cried, she would linger. Whatever had taken place could wait a while.

Gaage Eberwhit Zael Castomir

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

Ysobel's arms broke him out of his misery, if only for a moment. Gaage's muscles, tense and tight from the hell that the day had brought him, went slack and limp against her touch. She was the one thing that had brought him any respite in the last year, the one person who, after countless months of pretending he was okay, he couldn't truly hide from.

Eberwhit tilted his head, his breath slowing as her warmth radiated through his back. His eyes, still red with his tears, slowly slid shut as his palms came to rest over her own. Sometimes, he wondered if she understood how she'd saved him, how she'd pulled him out of a darkness he wasn't likely to ever escape otherwise. The destructive path he'd set himself on in search of a reason to be was only destined to lead him to further pain.

In finding him, she'd given him that reason he'd yearned for.

"You should be in bed..." Gaage eventually mumbles after some time, the faintest smirk on his lips as he rests his head in the crook of her neck. "But... I'll let it slide this time." He added, tilting his face to place a kiss on her cheek. In her presence, some part of him knew that everything would be okay. Not even a Dreadlord like Volkan was able to take her away from him, and if Eberwhit had anything to say about it, nothing else would either. In this instance, on this day, perhaps he hadn't failed her in the way that he feared.

"Just... don't tell Zael about the crying, okay? That stays between us."

His eyes opened, and he managed a smile, his first since watching Volkan drop dead.

"I love you."

Ysobel Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

What sleep he got could hardly be called such. It wasn't restful, and no dreams came with it. Only darkness bridged the gap between his vague awareness of leaving Vel Farris and his eyes opening now as he lie on the couch in the (unfamiliar) home. Still he felt the heavy toll of the battle weighing down on him, and his head was pulsing with a migraine.

The first thing Zael saw when he turned his head was Heather—brown hair still very much frazzled. She sat on her heels, hands on her knees, arms tense and rigidly straight. She was staring at him with wide, attentive eyes, fearful that his waking might prove a fleeting blessing. She therefore took caution in celebrating too early.

"See?" Zael said, and all about his voice spoke to his exhaustion and pain. "You're alright."

"I didn't think you'd come back," Heather said in a carefully measured and whispered tone. Her face didn't change in the slightest, what with that fear and caution, yet a tear she seemed utterly unaware of fled down her cheek.

"You did good, Heather. You did good." Zael's lips pursed for a moment. "I'm sorry about your family."

She didn't say anything. Only did a second tear, this from her other eye, go joining in a mirrored travel with the first.

"Where's Gaage?"

Heather pointed behind without looking away from him. "In there."

Zael, with no insignificant effort, sat up. Slowly did he rise from the couch, and a strained groan marked him finding his feet. Kress, he felt like an old man after that slam from Volkan, and his meager shuffle over toward the kitchen just stood as solid evidence for this notion. By the time he came within sight of Gaage and Ysobel, their private moment was done.

Leaning to some degree on the wall, Zael said to Gaage, "I'm glad...I didn't wake up to your ugly mug."

He grinned a little, summoning forth that familiar, bright Zael spirit to contrast his beleaguered appearance.

Gaage Eberwhit Ysobel

 

[Ysobel]

His weight against her, body finally relaxing with her touch, Ysobel held him close as she swayed from side to side in an attempt to soothe him. Her fingers intertwined with his, his vulnerability exposed for the first time to her. For the first time, she had become acutely aware of his pain, the turmoil he carried with him for the past year. A side she had never known.

She returned the smile when he broke their moment of silent bonding. “I should be in a bath. I’m filthy.” Her voice was low, trying not to disturb the sleeping blonde and the child nearby. “You look like shit. You should be in bed. Promise me you'll try to get some rest.” She squeezed his hand, rubbing her thumb on the outside, a quiet laugh at his demand.

“I love you too.” She placed a kiss on the top of his head, silently vowing to continue to be his anchor that pulled him back from the depths of despair.

In the other room, there was quiet movement followed by groans. Ysobel released Gaage from her embrace and stood beside him as his brother trudged from one room to the next. She greeted him with a nod, but little more. She barely knew the guy. It seemed to Ysobel that the two of them still had much to discuss. Things that Ysobel would not understand.

She leaned close to Gaage. “I’m going to run a bath.” She spoke softly in his ear, but she hesitated before she would leave the two. Turning towards Zael, she questioned, “The child. Is it alright?”

Gaage Eberwhit Zael Castomir

 

[Gaage Eberwhit]

Gaage nodded softly. He wasn't about to argue with her, especially after the day they'd had. Plus, if he was being honest, he'd wanted to sleep the moment he'd got home. He wouldn't have been able to until he'd seen Ysobel and Zael up and about with his own eyes. With Yoh's lips against his skin, he could at least take solace in the knowledge that she was okay, that he'd brought her back in one piece.

"Yeah... go soak and relax for a bit, Yoh. You've sure as fuck earned it..." He muttered back, tilting his head to place a parting kiss behind her ear before she stood and turned to leave just as a wobbly blonde mess of a man appeared in the doorway beside her. Always timely, wasn't he? Zael knew how to crash a moment, even after he'd gotten his brains scrambled like eggs. "She'll be fine, Yoh. We'll take care of her." Gaage answered Ysobel's question before Gaage had a chance, and his eyes followed her as she left for the bath.

"I'm glad...I didn't wake up to your ugly mug."

Eberwhit turned his chair around to face Zael, a smirk on the corner of his lips as he leaned back against the table behind him. "Yeah, well somebody had to pick up the slack while you took a dirt nap, right?" His friend's mention of his face was a stinging reminder, literally, of his crooked nose, almost definitely broken. The bleeding had stopped but it would still need to be set back into place.

That was going to hurt like a son of a bitch.

Gaage brought his hand up to his nose, and then up to his forehead as it throbbed with pain, his smirk turning to a grimace. "Motherfucker wouldn't go down. I got so fucking lucky, man..." He should be dead. He'd been outclassed in every way possible. If it hadn't been for Zael and Ysobel... this would have been it. Maybe that revelation was what had hit him the hardest.

"I think... I think I might be done, dude. With all of this. It's not fun anymore, and..."

He paused, flicking his eyes to the door as his voice lowered a bit.

"And Ysobel's carrying my kid. I'm gonna be a dad. I can't... I can't take care of a kid and also run around for some Archon on a power trip."

Zael Castomir