Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ Unfulfilled Prophecy ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter 3

 

Yami-396

 

I'm shocked for two reasons: A) I had no idea this story would be so popular after only two chapters and B) My computer is being super-retarded, and not delivering my E-mail to me. I had no idea I had gotten two more reviews until I checked my stats this morning.

 

Chapter 3 is dedicated to WolfishSerenity, Random-anom. person, Anonymous Phantom Writer, and kiyoshi-wheeler, in no particular order.

 

Warning! - Major spoilers ahead. If you haven't played KH2 yet, and still want to be surprised, skip over Riku's bathroom scene. (That sounds so wrong…)

 

Disclaimer - I own Hotaru, Xenos, Winter, anybody else not recognized or specifically from any other world, and the plot. I do not own Kingdom Hearts, KH: COM, or KH2. Steal and die.

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

He was in the Secret Place, but he did not remember how he got there, or why he was there. A candle sat in his hand, no holder, just a candle with his white knuckles gripping it tightly. He was waiting, waiting for whatever it was he was waiting for. There was rustling noise, and he stood up, holding the candle away from him so its weak halo of light shone in on the path that connected here with there. Somebody's shadow was coming.

 

“Don't come further,” he commanded, brandishing the candle. The shadow laughed.

 

“Do you think you can stop me?” it hissed, its voice distorted, and its breath foul.

 

“I will not allow you to,” he said, unrelenting.

 

“What has been set in motion cannot be stopped,” the shadow said, growing larger, its blackness blotting everything out except for the glowing candle, to which he held on tightly despite the hot wax that melded his fingers to it. “You will fall like so many others have fallen, fall into the darkness from which you cannot escape. There are no such things as happy endings for those who consort with the Keyblade and its master.”

 

“You are wrong!” he shouted, but the shadow only laughed again and came closer. And still, the darkness devoured everything, until all he could see was the candle glowing dimly and the darkness surrounding it. “You are wrong,” he whispered again.

 

And the shadow just laughed and blew out the candle.

 

Riku screamed and scrambled out of bed, the sheets twisting themselves around his legs, and he thought they were tendrils of the shadow come to devour him through his dreams. He fell to the floor, and the sheets followed him, and then he knew they were sheets and not the shadow, and he calmed down enough to disentangle his legs and stood up weakly.

 

The dream had felt so real, too real for Riku's comfort. His fingers ached as he flexed them, the sweat pouring down his back like icy rivers.

 

And the light-consuming darkness…

 

“It was only a dream,” he growled, slamming his fist into the wall. “Just a dream.” And yet, the darkness was still there, hidden in the corners, congealing as it waited for Riku to close his eyes, waiting for Riku to let his guard down, and then it would absorb him, and he would be falling back into the darkness, back into the numbness, just falling, falling, falling…

 

Snarling, Riku fumbled for the light switch and flicked it on with more than necessary strength, harsh white light flooding the room, driving back his past for the time being. Clumsily, like a drunken man, he walked to the bathroom, turning on all the lights as he went, and leaned on the sink for support as he gasped for breath, keeping one hand on it like it was an anchor while the other fished around the medicine cabinet for the secret bottle hidden far back behind the many tubes sunburn cream.

 

He closed the door and Ansem stared back at him through the mirror.

 

Riku shrieked and threw himself from the face in the mirror, the bottle flying from his hand, and crashed to the floor, the sleeping pills scattering over the tiled surface, clattering into the places were the shadows hid.

 

“Hello, Riku,” the mirror said. “It has been such a while since I last spoke to you.”

 

“You're dead,” Riku whispered, his hands grasping his hair, tearing it from the roots. “You died.”

 

“But my memories live on,” Ansem replied.

 

No, not Ansem. Ansem had died, the King told him so, and the King does not lie. Ansem had been DiZ, the man wrapped in red, the man who had tried to help them. No, this reflection was of someone else. It was…

 

“Xehanort!” Riku yelled, and the mirror laughed.

 

“Did you really think you could escape me?” Xehanort asked, his orange eyes burning into Riku's. “Did you truly believe that you had been saved?”

 

“You're not real,” Riku whispered, clutching his ears. “You're not real, you're not real…”

 

“Remember my report, Riku,” Xehanort told him, and then laughed at the confusion in Riku's eyes. “The boy did not tell you of them? Let me tell you a little secret. There are two legends of the Keyblade Master. One said he saved the world. In the other, he destroyed it. There will be no second chances this time, my puppet. The worlds will fall to darkness, one by one, consumed, never again to return to the light, never-”

 

The sound of shattering glass and the welcome blossom of pain stopped Xehanort's rant as Riku drove his fist into the mirror.

 

“Just die!” Riku screamed, dropping to his knees, cradling his bloody and broken hand to his chest, watching the small streams of blood course down his wrist and onto his shirt and the floor. And then he heard it. In the stillness of the night, there was the unmistakable swish of an oar cutting through water.

 

“The boy goes to fulfill the prophecy,” the shards hissed, and Riku stared at them before he jumped up, drops of blood spraying around him, and hurtled through his home, not even registering the lighted candle he grabbed as he barreled out the door and into the night.

 

Winded and tired, he pushed on, holding the candle ahead of him, pursing the shadow down the well-trodden path that led to the Secret Place. The small light made the shadow of the rocks curve, and to Riku, they looked like teeth, teeth of a predator stalking its prey.

 

Still he trudged on, following the moving shadow. He followed it until it stopped all the way in back of the cave. And then it ceased to be a shadow, and Riku nearly dropped the candle.

 

“Hey, Riku!” Sora said brightly, and Riku was almost fooled into believing it was his friend, but one look at the man's eyes, dark and hooded, convinced him otherwise.

 

“What are you doing?” Riku asked him, clutching the candle.

 

“I'm going to get my Keyblade,” Sora answered, laughing. It bounced off the walls of the cave and ten Sora's joined in as a chorus. “Do you want to come?”

 

“You're crazy!” Riku shouted, and his accusation joined the fading chorus of laughter.

 

“But you always wanted to see other worlds,” Sora said, his entire demeanor changing. His voice became slick and deep, and his eyes lost their hooded look, but remained the dark blue of a stormy ocean. “Have you changed that much?”

 

“I won't let you,” Riku growled, and his hands inadvertently twitched. The flame flickered.

 

“Do you think you can fight darkness with that candle?” the Sora-like thing in front of him asked. “Do you think you can save yourself? You cannot stop me.”

 

The hot wax oozed over Riku's fingers and he laughed and let the candle tumble to the ground.

 

Sora reached over to the door, and the Keyhole glowed and grew bigger, and then Sora was reaching into it, and the cave began to shake.

 

Rocks fell, and still Riku laughed as the candle rolled away from him.

 

From the darkness of the Keyhole, Sora pulled a small light, none bigger than the flame of the dying candle. He cradled it in his hands, crooned to it, and held it to his heart.

 

The candle burnt out as a rock fell on it, and Riku laughed harder.

 

“My Keyblade is not here,” Sora said stonily, and the little light he cradled to his chest flickered. “This world is useless. Let me through to the next!” The door that was never supposed to be opened was blasted away, and darkness seeped out. Sora looked at the small dying light one last time, and with tears streaming down his face for reasons he knew not, he crushed it, and it collapsed.

 

And then Sora was gone, melting into the darkness, and Riku laughed.

 

Riku laughed as the darkness swallowed the cave, and spread, fingers of it spewing out of the entrance to the cave, ready to devour more light.

 

And he laughed as he was falling, falling, falling into the darkness, as it curled around him, and then it was inside him, and then the laughter died.

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

Hotaru woke bathed in tears.

 

“No,” she whispered, letting the tears run freely down her face. “No.” Numb with pain, she reached into the darkness of her heart and traced her link to the everlasting blackness, feeling for Riku's. It was there for an instant, and she clung to it, but the blackness pulsed, and the link was gone.

 

The tears flowed harder and she sobbed, and when her roommate woke up and fled in panic, she didn't stop, even when Xenos and Winter came running, sleepy-eyed and disheveled, she couldn't bring herself to stop mourning the life that had been twisted so cruelly, and tormented for so long, the life that had ended all too soon. Winter tried to comfort her, and went as far as to put her arms around the weeping woman, but Xenos sat to the side and watched as she shook off the younger girl, and wiped her face with her nightshirt.

 

“Are you okay now?” he asked softly, and Hotaru nodded, her cool outer shell closing over her, her emotions tucked away in the forgotten corner of her mind.

 

“Do you want to tell us what happened?” Winter asked. “You don't have to…”

 

“Yes I do,” Hotaru snapped. “It's valuable information.” She paused, and pushing the down the knot in her throat, she continued, telling them of her dream. Xenos and Winter listened intently, both of them hardly breathing, their faces drawn tight. When she was finished, Winter stood up and opened the door with shaking hands, letting the lighting from the hall spill into the room.

 

“So he's using that world as his portal,” Xenos said, his voice free of any emotion. Hotaru disagreed.

 

“I don't think he's using it for that,” she said. “I believe he used it to forge pathways between the worlds. With the door to that world forced open, he broke the barriers that kept the worlds separated.”

 

“And by doing that,” Winter broke in. “He recreated the network of paths.”

 

“All to find that one damn Keyblade,” Xenos growled. “Get ready. We're leaving.”

 

“At night?” Winter asked, but Xenos was already gone.

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

Kairi sat huddled in her bed, watching the darkness slip under her door. It slithered across the floor and under her bed, up the walls, and across the ceiling. In fright, she began to sing, a nameless old fishermen's tune about the sea, her voice quavering.

 

Then it was only Kairi and the darkness that stretched endlessly in all directions left. The darkness pulsed, and the song ceased to be.

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

“You're leaving us?” Aki asked, her eyes wide and unblinking. Winter nodded distractedly as she threw off her nightshirt and slipped on the first presentable outfit she could find. “Where are you going?”

 

“Me, Xenos, and Hotaru are going exploring for a bit,” Winter answered, throwing on her armor.

 

“Will you come back?” Remembering the warning of the Elders, Winter paused, and gathered the little girl in her arms, holding back the tears the little girl shed for her.

 

“Yes,” she whispered. “I promise I'll come back.”

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

It was more painful than Sora would have thought, traveling through Gummi Space without a ship. It felt as if his skin was slowly being peeled off by dozens of little hooks, and the flashing lights that surrounded him made his head pound. But the little voice in the back of head demanded he keep moving, and so he pressed forth, trying to ignore the constant pressure that pulled him back.

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

“Take care,” Hotaru said to her roommate before turning her back to leave. “Goodbye.”

 

“Don't say goodbye,” Aella murmured sleepily. “Goodbye means you'll never come back.” Hotaru looked at her.

 

“What would you rather I say?” she asked.

 

“Goodnight, Hotaru,” was Aella's answer. Hotaru stopped at the door, and before closing it, she said,

 

“Goodnight.”

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

Screaming in pain, Sora tried to force his way through the barrier that protected the world in front of him. He did not know what world it was, nor did he care as long as the pain stopped and he could breathe again. Blood fell in his eyes, but he didn't have the strength to blink it away. Every pore in his body felt as if it were weeping blood, all his nerves screaming pain, and yet the voice still demanded he moved forward.

 

He moved one foot an inch in front of him.

 

The pressure reached its climax, and Sora screamed louder, his throat raw and broken, and the hooks dug deeper still, and Sora was sure that chunks of flesh were being stripped away, and then it was over, and Sora fell into the welcome bliss of unconsciousness.

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

Silently and deadly, Xenos drove his Keyblade through the heart of an unsuspecting Spiraler. Snorting in rage, he jerked it back out, ignoring the gush of blood, and attacked it again, though the Chaser was already more than half-dead, and it simply lay on the sand and waited for Xenos to be done with it.

 

But Xenos was too angry to think rationally, and even after the Spiraler was long dead, and both he and the sand were covered in sticky blood, he kept hacking at it until all that remained was a bloodstain on the sand. He fell to his knees, and cursed Sora, tears cleaning a path down his gory face.

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

As a rule, no one mentioned anything of the previous night. Hotaru had no mocks for the openly disheartened Winter, and Xenos said nothing about Hotaru's red and puffy eyes, and though Winter knew of the blood-spots in the cracks of Xenos's armor, she made no move to fuss over them.

 

An air of depression had settled over them as they trekked across the hot desert, always heading for the horizon, searching for the Graveyard of Keyblades. Few had known of their departure in the night, but those that did know were trusted with the information to tell the rest. Xenos had turned around once to gaze at the place he had called home for eleven years, but Winter had seized his head and forced it frontward again.

 

“Don't ever look back on the place you leave,” she said grimly.

 

“Why?” Xenos asked, massaging the portion of his neck Winter had squeezed.

 

“It's an old superstition,” Hotaru intervened. “They say if you look back at the place you leave from, you will never return there again.” Xenos snorted.

 

“Don't tell me you believe that,” he said, grinning cockily at the two girls.

 

“I don't,” Hotaru said with an air of superiority. “And put your helmet on. You'll get sun poisoning if you don't.

 

“Oh, is Hotaru worried about me?”

 

“Perhaps sun poisoning will do you well.”

 

They returned to melancholy silence and trudged on.

 

“The horizon just seems to move farther and farther away,” Winter commented later, trying to make small talk, but Xenos just nodded, and Hotaru blatantly ignored her. Winter rolled her eyes, and allowed the shuffling of their boots to be the only noise in the quiet desert.

 

True to Hotaru's prediction, after two days of traveling, Xenos's face was indeed sunburned to a dark painful red, and a new annoyance made itself known. As they were walking over a particularly large dune, Winter's boot fell through the crusty sand at the top, and out of the resulting hole climbed several large scorpion-like Chasers, sandy-colored and black in appearance, waving their elongated stingers threateningly.

 

“A nest of Scorpionidas, huh?” Winter said, her eyes closed.

 

Gnashing their teeth, the Scorpionidas scuttled towards her. Though they were as tall as Xenos, Winter was not the least bit frightened, and still kept her eyes shut.

 

“You want to take care of them?” Hotaru asked her, stepping out of the way.

 

“With pleasure,” Winter replied.

 

The Scorpionidas saw only a young girl apparently rooted to the sand in fear, and they believed they had found another hapless wanderer to make a meal out of. They did not see the small twitch of her hands at her side, nor did they see the flash of light behind her back as she summoned her Keyblade. Moving quickly, the Scorpionidas spread out in an attack pattern, creating a circle of clicking limbs and waving stingers around Winter. The largest one, most likely the leader attacked first, scuttling at her from behind, its stinger arched over its head, poised to impale her. Winter opened her eyes.

 

The stinger struck empty air, and, confused, the Scorpionida scuttled sideways, turning its body around to look in all directions. And on its stinger, several feet in the air, Winter stood, grinning, twirling her Keyblade with her fingers. The other Chasers noticed her there before their leader did, and they roared out a warning. Clicking its pincers, the lead Chaser thrashed about, and Winter, using the movement as leverage, flipped off its stinger, throwing her Keyblade mid-flip.

 

“Tornado Whirl!” she shouted, and her Keyblade, sharpened to perfection, spiraled through the air, neatly decapitating the closest of the Chasers. The remaining few stunned by the unexpected death of their comrades, stood and gaped stupidly at her before they made a dash back to their nest, the air full of panicked clicking and snapping. Winter's Keyblade circled around, and whistling through the air, it cut through the last of the Scorpionidas. Winter landed, and as her Keyblade made one final arc, she caught it by its handle, and turned back to her friends, smiling.

 

“Not bad, right?” she asked, laughter dancing in her eyes as she pulled off her helmet, hair flying out to frame her face. Xenos rubbed his chin in mock thoughtfulness.

 

“I'll give you an eight out of ten because you landed with your feet skewed.”

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

Cold. He felt very cold. But feeling cold meant that he was alive, and that was good. Sora stood up and dusted off the light covering of snow on his back and that clung to his hair. A quick once-over of his body determined that he had not in fact been damaged by his flight through Gummi space and his flesh was still very much intact. In fact, massive headache aside, he had never felt better. Stretching, he surveyed the world he landed in.

 

A blanket of white stretched out before him, covering everything from rocks to trees, and the rapidly falling snow had already filled the depression his body made when he broke the barrier. To his right, there was a forest, looking ethereal against the gray sky and the falling white. On all his other sides, the ground he was standing on ended in a steep sudden drop. Sora leaned over the ledge cautiously, and determined that it was about a two hundred-foot drop to the village below. Grey and white monolithic mountains rose on the other side of the valley, protecting it from the harsher winds that whipped Sora's hair into a frenzy, and from some of the miniscule houses he saw, steam rose from chimneys, wafting in the air.

 

“Bet they have great food,” he thought, suddenly very aware that he was starving.

 

“Why don't you go and see?” the mini-Sora prompted.

 

“Because it's a huge drop and I can't fly.”

 

“But you can glide.” Point taken, he prepared to jump, but a movement from the forest stopped him, and he tensed.

 

It was only a deer, coming to investigate what the strange new smell from the cliff was. Blue eyes locked with large brown ones, and the deer's ears went back. There was something strange about the human before it, and it wasn't because of its foreign scent. There was something wrong, something the deer did not understand, but its instincts did, and it was visible in the human's eyes. Sora held out his hand, and the deer bolted, all its instincts telling it to run, that the human was dangerous, and thankfully, it wasn't chased. Sora simply shrugged, and took a running leap off the cliff.

 

It had been a long time since Sora had used his Glide Ability; back at the Destiny Islands, he had found out quickly that those who hadn't known of his adventures didn't greatly appreciate it. But gliding through the cold air, letting himself be buffeted about by the currents, he wondered why he gave it up. Was it because of Kairi?

 

Kairi.

 

The name struck something in his heart, and the darkness retreated a bit, and Sora wondered how she was doing back on the islands. But it was of no matter. Once he found his Keyblade, he would go back to her, and life would resume.

 

Sora decided he had enough playing in the air, and he began to descend, causing quite a stir amongst the people of the village below him.

 

A child happened to look up in the sky, and tugging on her mother's apron, she asked, “Mama, what is that in the sky?” Her mother looked up to placate her daughter, and immediately dropped her bundle of grain with a scream. The grain spilled into the snow, and the child knelt down to pick it up. “What's the matter, Mama?” she asked, her gloved hands full of wet grain. Her mother didn't answer, but shoved the girl into the nearest house; it didn't matter whose, life had made all of them trust one another, and murder and kidnapping were unheard of.

 

“The god is descending!” Aina cried, running through the street. “The god has come down at last!” As she shouted, she pointed to the sky, and soon, a large group of people had gathered at the spot were Sora was near landing, trailed closely by the village priest. He pushed his way through the mass, his crooked staff aiding him in this.

 

“Bow!” he commanded, his voice gruff with age and years of inhaling cold air. The villagers obeyed, and they sank to their knees in the deep snow, their foreheads pressed deeply on their arms. As for Sora, he had no clue what had just happened.

 

When he touched down and observed the throng of people bowing, he looked behind him to see if he had interrupted some sort of ceremony. After a quick search in all directions, and finding nothing, he pointed to himself and asked incredulously, “Me?”

 

“Behold!” someone shouted. “He speaks!”

 

“What?” Sora asked, utterly confused.

 

“Oh, Exalted One! You're presence is a blessing!” Aina cried, and moved forward and latched on to Sora's shorts.

 

“Gah! Get off!” He shook his leg, but Aina was strong, and she wouldn't let go. “Who are you people?”

 

“We are the people of Icy Creek,” the priest supplied. “And we bid you welcome, Exalted One.” He bowed again, and in embarrassment, Sora rubbed the back of head and smiled goofily, unsure what to do next.

 

“Look at his movement! We must copy or fear his wrath!” a man yelled, and in a flurry of movement, everyone in the area stood and mimicked Sora's posture. “It must be some sort of godly greeting!”

 

“Please, don't do that,” Sora said, nearly crying. “I think you have the wrong guy here.”

 

“No, no, we are not mistaken,” the priest said. “The legends say that the god will one day descend from the heavens above to bless our pitiful village with his presence. You, Exalted One, already have. Furthermore, your dressing is fit for a god!” He motioned to Sora's bright T-shirt and shorts, which did look rich and out of place next to the other villager's plain dresses and smocks. “Please, Exalted One, let us bring you to the shrine. We shall prepare a banquet!” At the mention of banquet, Sora perked up, and decided that he would play the part of their god for a little, and then leave.

 

“What about your Keyblade!?” the mini-Sora hissed.

 

“Oh, shut up,” Sora admonished it. “I'm hungry.”

 

“Chose, Sora. Keyblade or food.”

 

“Food.”

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

The Scorpionidas provided a welcome distraction for the trio, and soon they fell into their usual routine of killing Chasers and exchanging banter with one another. It was during one such lull in action, as Winter and Xenos argued about different armor styles, that the group came upon a Spiraler attacking a small caravan. Responding immediately, they pulled out their Keyblades and readied for attack, but stopped short as several hooked ropes flew from the caravan and sunk into the Chaser. The ropes were pulled, and the Chaser fell, unconscious, and several people climbed out and began cutting bits of the armor off the Spiraler.

 

“Need any help?” Winter called, despite Hotaru and Xenos's frantic attempts to pull her behind a large rock.

 

“No, we're fine!” a woman called back, waving them over. She pulled glossy brown hair from her face and assessed the three intruders. From their antics, they seemed relatively harmless, and not to mention rather interesting. “Would you like a ride back to the city?”

 

“A city?” Xenos asked, brightening. “Count me in!”

 

The city turned out to be a dozen buildings cut out of a large rock formation, with interlocking streets. Xenos was dejected again, and Winter had to drag him out of the caravan under the pretenses that they may find out some information if they stayed.

 

“There's a lovely inn down that way, if you wish to spend the night,” the woman, who they found out to be named Kallisto, said. Xenos was about to say something, probably to the negative affect, but Hotaru cut him off.

 

“I suppose we have nothing to fear from Chaser attacks,” she said, stepping on Xenos's foot. He yelped and jumped backwards.

 

“Yeah, with the way you guys kill them, we'll finally have some free time!” Winter added cheerfully, and Kallisto laughed.

 

“Oh, we don't kill the Chasers,” she explained. “We only borrow from them.”

 

“You didn't kill that Spiraler earlier?” Xenos asked, still holding his foot, hopping on the other in a desperate dance to stay balanced and avoid the pull of gravity. Kallisto suppressed a giggle.

 

“No, we only take a bit of their armor. They keep this city thriving, you know.”

 

“And how, may I ask, do they do that?” Hotaru asked, one eyebrow in danger of disappearing in her hairline. Kallisto's smile disappeared, and she decided she didn't like her very much.

 

“Do you know the history of the Chasers?” she asked, biting back a sharp retort for the haughty but beautiful woman before her. The three friends shook their heads, and Kallisto sighed, beckoning them inside the welcome coolness of one of the buildings. “I suppose you simply let your people kill them without thought.”

 

“Yes, we do,” Xenos said sharply. “They're a nuisance to our existence.”

 

“But not to ours,” Kallisto replied just as sharply. “The Chasers originated in these parts first, and then spread out. They are essential to this city and its people. Have you seen our metals?”

 

“No, we've never been here,” Winter said, trying to keep on friendly terms with her. Kallisto rewarded her with a smile, and handed her a metal ornament. Shaped like a dog, it was silvery with streaks of gold in it, and the designs etched into its surface were intricate and detailed. “It's beautiful.”

 

“Yes, our metal-works are prized, and sell for quite a bit. The main ingredient is Chaser armor.” Winter nearly dropped it. “The term `chaser' means `one who decorates metal by engraving or embossing.' My people used to be known as the Chasers, but as those monsters you see now spread, others got confused, and began referring to them as Chasers. After a while, it stuck.”

 

“That makes sense,” Xenos said after a moment's pause.

 

“In fact, there is a legend that the very first Keyblades came from the Chasers. The people, not the monsters,” she added quickly, and Winter kicked Xenos under the table.

 

“Stop kicking me,” he whispered. “I get it.”

 

“Do you think this could be one of Xehanort's memories?” Hotaru asked, even though it pained her to say that name. Wisps of memories floated the barrier.

 

“It could be,” Xenos answered. “I guess it's not supposed to jump out at us and scream `Look at me! I'm a memory of a dead guy!' right?” Winter giggled, and Hotaru looked at him disapprovingly.

 

“This is serious!”

 

“We'll poke around some more, and see what we can come up with.”

 

“I wonder they'll polish my Keyblade?”

 

“We don't have time for that! And don't let on that you wield a Keyblade!”

 

“We can polish anything, as long as you pay for it,” Kallisto broke in, having heard the word polish, and the three jumped, having forgotten she was there.

 

“How much to polish this?” Winter asked, pointing to Xenos's armor. With a keen eye, Kallisto examined the dingy metal he wore.

 

It was dirty and gritty with sand, and fingerprints had long tarnished its once-gleaming surface, and with surprise and a hint of fear, she saw caked blood in the veins of the armor. Perhaps she had been wrong about the three being relatively harmless. She would watch them, but for now, she would play along. Clicking her tongue, Kallisto handed it back. “With all the damage you've done to it, I'd say about three hundred in gold.”

 

“What!” Xenos yelled. “Don't even think about it Winter!” But Winter had that gleam in her eyes, and the sixteen-year-old was not to be deterred.

 

“We don't have any gold, but we're willing to do some work to pay for it.”

 

Hotaru and Xenos groaned.

 

*~[--]-------_--_-

 

Updated 7/18/06 for some plot holes. The last part's been changed to make more sense.

 

And that takes care of the Chaser thing of legends.

 

Kallisto - Greek for `most beautiful.'

 

Aina - Finnish for `the only one.'

 

Scorpionidas - Take away the `s' and you have the order in which the scorpion belongs.

 

Aki - Japanese for `autumn.'

 

Aella - Greek for `whirlwind.'

 

Have a safe and happy July 4th for all of you who celebrate it, and Read and Review!