Saint Seiya Fan Fiction ❯ The Blackmail of Souls ❯ Chiburi ( Chapter 3 )

 

Chapter Three:

 

CHIBURI

 

 

A finger of late-morning sunlight poked through the curtains of Seiya's bedroom and blazed across the floor, disrupting the comforting darkness. The Pegasus Saint slowly opened his heavy eyelids, cursing the yellow-white ribbon that invaded his senses and beat wildly against his skull like a trapped sparrow. He rolled over and groaned loudly, burying his face beneath a pillow. Several months prior, Ikki had introduced him to the pleasures of alcohol, but as Seiya lay in paralyzing nausea, he couldn't decide whether to thank the Phoenix Saint or exact an appropriate revenge upon him. Seiya occasionally wondered why none of the Saints were addicted to any mood-altering substances…at least none that he could overtly detect. Considering the inhuman demands that were often placed upon their still-developing minds, bodies and souls, they certainly had every right to seek a quick and convenient release, or escape, from the insanity of their lives. He was not quite sure why he had drunk to excess the night before. Perhaps it was in celebration of seeing his sister in Tokyo hotel, or maybe it was to temporarily dilute the sorrow that had battered his heart since the unceremonious parting with his brothers. But more likely, it was a morose and long-overdue tribute to his stolen childhood, and the highly unlikely chance at a normal life.

 

Though the maddening flutter of bird's wings behind his eyes gradually eased, it was quickly replaced by a sickening ache that coiled up from his stomach and nested in his head. The inside of Seiya's mouth was sour and dry, and his tongue felt as though it was made of sandpaper. Desperate for a glass of water, he suddenly wished he had been blessed with telekinetic powers like Kiki. The Bronze Saint sat upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed. As his bare feet met the cold floor, he surveyed the haphazard scattering of empty sake bottles that littered the room then looked down at himself with disgust. He had not even bothered to remove his clothing before passing out in a drunken stupor. He raked a hand through his thick, disheveled hair and attempted to shake off the tangle of cobwebs that immobilized his thoughts. A strange emptiness surfaced from somewhere deep inside, and as Seiya concentrated on his Cosmo, he suddenly realized a thread was missing. His gut instantly flooded with leaden worry.

 

“Hyoga…” he whispered, then quickly glanced at the small alarm clock on the small table next to his bed.

 

“11 AM! K'so!” he muttered angrily. He moved swiftly into the living room and snatched the telephone receiver from its cradle. With trembling fingers, Seiya began to dial the number of the Kido mansion, but a sharp knock at the front door startled the young Saint. A stern voice called to him from outside.

 

“Seiya! Are you there? Sameru desuka?”

 

In the blink of an eye, the boy sprinted across the apartment and flung open the door.

 

“Tatsumi! What are you doing here?”

 

“Saori-sama sent me here to collect you. There's been an unusual...incident,” the man calmly stated.

 

“What is it? What's happened to Hyoga?” Seiya demanded, almost pleading.

 

“It would be best for you to return with me to the mansion now,” Tatsumi answered curtly. Before Seiya could respond, the Kido manservant turned and headed down the stairs to the waiting black limousine. Though outwardly Tatsumi seemed unmoved by whatever disaster had claimed the Cygnus Saint, Seiya could sense a palpable fear within the man. The boy paused, frowning, then slipped on his sneakers and grabbed a thick woolen sweater that hung on a nearby hook. As he slammed the door shut behind him and raced down the steps, the numbing winter air stung the hot tears that began to pool in Seiya's mahogany eyes.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Hyoga clung fiercely to the shadow world of oblivion…

 

…no…

 

Timeless black slowly cascaded into hazy white…

 

…why…

 

 

Distant vibrations moved through him like approaching thunder…

 

…won't…

 

A trembling voice flitted through his consciousness on dove's wings and wrapped around his soul, comforting him…

 

…they…

 

“You're safe now…everything is going to be all right…I love you…”

 

…let…

 

“Don't cry…I love you too,” he felt himself saying, the words tumbling around him like leaves on the wind…

 

…me…

 

The boy leaned in, their lips meeting in urgent desire. They existed only for each other…

 

…die…

 

Sudden unwanted consciousness ripped him away from the infinite bosom of death…

 

“No, no, no, no…!” his mind screamed in a liquid torrent of denial. Icy panic drove needles into his heart as his eyes tore around the sterile white room. “Why can't they leave me in peace?”

 

But he already knew the answer, even before he felt the warmth of Shun's body pressing against him.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

“The Mistress awaits your presence in the study,” Tatsumi stated obligingly. Seiya noted an almost gentle quality to his voice, surprised by the man's apparent concern.

 

“Thanks…” the Saint began, but suddenly realized he was alone in the foyer. He headed for the doorway that led to the study and entered without knocking, immediately slumping into the nearest chair.

 

Saori's knuckles shone white against her charcoal-colored pantsuit as she clamped her hands tightly together. She leaned a shoulder against the window frame and peeked through a slim gap in the drapes, as if she were afraid to let the outside world know she was there. She glanced at the boy who sat in weary defeat across the room, and shared in his sorrow. After all the Bronze Saints had done for mankind, they deserved better lives. Though she mourned the evils that continually plagued them, Saori was relieved by Seiya's presence.

 

“Please, can't you tell me what happened? Where's Hyoga?” the Pegasus Saint begged, his nerves raw from exhaustion.

 

Saori breathed in sharply and cast her violet-gray eyes downward. Seiya had known for quite some time that she felt ultimately responsible for the destinies of the Bronze Saints. He could see the girl was deeply pained by whatever terrible fate had befallen his Russian brother. Believing a Saint's life was a nightmare, Seiya couldn't pretend to understand what daily existence must have been like for Saori. Although she had a relatively carefree early childhood, her youth ended quickly after the death of old man Kido. It had been Saori's duty to take up the reigns of the Graude Foundation. She had successfully established herself at the head of the powerful conglomerate, but Saori Athena was still struggling to find her place in a modern world that had no interest in ancient gods. Seiya always imagined Athena as a constant, separate entity dwelling inside Saori, but he knew being a goddess incarnate had to be a bit more complicated than just having a split personality. He also knew there was nothing he could say that would ease her burden.

 

“Hyoga's here...in the infirmary,” she answered, choosing her words with careful deliberation. “According to the medics, he was clinically dead on arrival…”

 

Seiya's body stiffened, confusion furrowing his brow. “Hyoga was…dead? But…how did he get here?”

 

Saori shook her head dejectedly, wishing she had all the answers. Not only had one of the Bronze Saints died under extremely distressing and unknown circumstances, but someone…or something…had managed to breach the mansion's security system and deliver his body completely undetected.

 

“His last known location was Siberia, so we assume that's where…it happened.” Saori's heavy heart darkened her expression, but she continued to explain the details of the Cygnus Saint's condition as clinically as possible. Remaining unemotional in the face of overwhelming tragedy had become Saori's forte, much to her dismay. “Hypothermia had set in almost immediately, and he had not been...um...gone for very long, so we were able to revive him. Hyoga's in a coma, but alive...thanks to Professor Hakase.”

 

“Hakase? Couldn't you…uh…that is, I mean, couldn't Athena…?”

 

“I tried…but without his Cosmo, there was just nothing for me…Athena…to reach for. I guess there are limits to what the Goddess can do,” she replied sadly. There were some things she found difficult to admit…even to Seiya. “It was almost as if…” Saori continued hesitantly.

 

“As if what?” he gently urged.

 

“Well, it just felt as though Hyoga did not want to come back.” She studied Seiya's face with genuine concern, and attempted a weak smile. “You look terrible.”

 

Embarrassed by his appearance, he could not argue with her.

 

“Why don't you go upstairs and freshen up a bit, then meet me in the kitchen. We can continue our discussion there,” she gently suggested.

 

The Pegasus Saint wanted to see Hyoga right away, but he did not want his other Bronze brothers to find him in such haggard condition. Seiya nodded in agreement then obediently headed to the stairway.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The low, droning hum and mechanical click of the various monitoring devices irritated Hyoga. A tangled umbilical of wires stretched from his skin to the machines like multicolored spaghetti. A cheerful swath of afternoon light streamed intrusively into the room from the small picture window on his right. It was far too bright, but Hyoga could not muster the energy to rise out of bed and close the curtains. Though the clear fluid that dripped precisely into his bloodstream from an intravenous tube left him extremely lethargic, puzzlement and angry indignation burned behind his eyes. He simply could not fathom how he had arrived at the Kido mansion. He knew he had perished near Anadyr less than a day ago…of that he was certain…but a troubling, persistent dream slowly trickled into his memory. After he had slipped loose of the mortal world, he imagined liquid silver arms reaching out to him. They felt similar to the aural filaments that had bound him to the Saints, but it was much stronger and more ancient than he could fully comprehend. Hyoga tried to break free of it, but the blinding white phantasm enfolded him in a careful embrace and ushered him into a plane of existence where he was neither living nor dead. As the hallucination became more cohesive, a strange yet oddly soothing voice played over and over in his head; “I cannot let you die like this…”

 

For a long while, Hyoga lay in silent misery, tight-lipped and emotionless, staring at the walls with lifeless eyes. Shun had once told him that the opposite of love was not hate, but apathy. At the time, he had doubted the boy, but Shun's words rang out in his mind as true and clear as the pealing of a bell. Hyoga felt nothing. His heart was a cold and empty grave. He took no notice of the sleeping young Saint who sat by his bedside. Nor was he moved by the mass of lustrous green hair that blanketed his chest. He may not have been able escape the clinging stranglehold of the Bronze brotherhood, but at least he was no longer tethered to their collective subconscious. Hyoga had rid himself of the wretched Cosmo and the constant brushing of the Cygnus wings against his soul.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Seiya exited the second-floor bathroom of the Kido mansion, rubbing a soft, plush towel through his damp hair. The hot shower had worked wonders on his aching body and mind. He felt refreshed, relaxed, and ready to face Hyoga and his brothers. He was particularly glad to be out of the clothing he had worn for the past two days. All of his personal belongings had long ago been moved to his apartment at Tokyo Bay, so he was forced to plunder Shun's closet where he luckily found a gray sweat suit. He had not asked permission to borrow it, but he was sure the boy wouldn't mind. The feeling of Shun's clothing against his skin was strangely comforting to Seiya.

 

As he passed the door to Hyoga's room, the Pegasus Saint impulsively grasped the doorknob and entered. Seiya couldn't recall the last time he had been inside the Russian Saint's room, but he was not surprised to find it quite similar to the other Saints' bedrooms. There were very little items decorating the walls or flat surfaces, so his attention was immediately drawn to a pair of objects lying atop a simple wooden chest of drawers. He wandered over to the bureau and picked up a thick, worn book. He thumbed through the pages of the heavy volume then closed it, studying the cover. It was written entirely in Russian, but Seiya could read the title, with some effort.

 

“War…and…Peace…by…Tolstoy,” he murmured aloud. Seiya replaced the book and reached for the other item. He held it at eye-level, peering closely at the tiny diorama enclosed beneath the clear dome. The plastic scenery reminded Seiya of a snow-covered Siberian village, but there was no writing on the old souvenir to indicate where it had come from. He shook it gently then watched as the glittering bits of white confetti dispersed and floated down transcendently over the miniature rooftops, settling again at the bottom of the water-filled snow globe. Seiya returned it to the top of the dresser and wondered how often Hyoga had stared at the eternally peaceful scene forever insulated from the rest of the world…and how often Hyoga wished he were a part of it. Seiya was suddenly saddened by the painful realization that he did not know Hyoga as well as he thought. Perhaps none of them did. He turned to leave the room and found Shiryu watching from the doorway.

 

“Shiryu! I didn't see you there,” he said, mortified that he had been caught toying with Hyoga's personal belongings. “I was just…um…”

 

Shiryu moved past him and stood near the window, his back toward Seiya.

 

“What's happening to us?” he asked quietly.

 

Seiya didn't know if he was referring to the all Bronze Saints…or just their relationship. He could offer no answer.

 

Shiryu pushed the curtain aside and peered through the frost-covered glass. The bright natural light filtered through his eyes, transforming them from hyaline green to sun-dappled sea blue.

 

“Hyoga's not one of us anymore…” Seiya began, but Shiryu interrupted, glaring angrily at him.

 

“Don't say that! Don't ever say that again! No matter what happened to him, Hyoga will always be one of us! He'll always be a Bronze Saint! If it was you in that hospital bed…!” the onyx-haired teen shouted then suddenly paused. Though Shiryu instantly calmed, Seiya was taken aback by the older boy's unexpectedly emotional outburst. The Dragon Saint breathed in deeply, recapturing his control. “Suppose you were lying in the infirmary instead of Hyoga, what would you expect from us, Seiya?”

 

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean…”

 

Shiryu shook his head and displayed a tiny regretful smile, signaling to his friend that he need not continue. “I'm the one who should apologize. I know how much you care for Hyoga. You're as worried as the rest of us.” Shiryu longed to enfold the Pegasus Saint in a repentant, loving embrace, but he feared Seiya's rejection. “I'm just happy you've returned!”

 

Seiya stared at the floor. He could not bear to watch as Shiryu's trusting face flood with dashed hopes. “I'm not staying,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I only came to find out what happened to Hyoga.”

 

“You're leaving again?”

 

Seiya nodded slowly.

 

“You won't help us?” It was more an accusation than a question.

 

“Gomenasai. I-I can't...”

 

An awkward silence passed between them, but then Shiryu's demeanor abruptly softened. “What will you do?” he asked quietly.

 

Seiya looked puzzled.

 

“What will you do…when you find her?” Shiryu repeated.

 

He hadn't given it much thought. Would he remain a Saint of Athena or attempt to live a normal life with his sister? Shiryu did not wait for his response. Without a word, he turned and left the room, descending quickly to the first floor. Seiya knew he had let Shiryu down...he had let them all down...but he could not abandon his search for Seika. He was so close to finding her, he couldn't allow anything to stand in his way...not even the needs of his brothers. He sighed and treaded despondently toward the curved sweeping staircase.

 

As he neared the kitchen, Seiya could hear the light sounds of metal utensils and dishware. He pushed open the swinging door and was greeted by the sight of Saori preparing two cups of coffee. He was somewhat surprised by her effortless familiarity with the minor domestic task. He seated himself at the kitchen counter as Saori placed one of the cups in front of him. He bowed his head, staring at the reflection of his eyes swimming on the black surface, allowing the rising steam to caress his face like a gentle hand. Seiya lifted the cup and reluctantly sipped at the hot, bitter liquid. Though he enjoyed the rich, sweet aroma of coffee, he hated the taste of it. He glanced at the nearby containers of sugar and cream, but the thought of indulging himself while Hyoga lay in a coma seemed inappropriate and selfish.

 

“Okay, so Hyoga's alive. Why can't I feel his Cosmo?” Seiya quietly lamented. Saori realized the question was not directed toward her, but Seiya needed some kind of answer. She sat on the stool next to the Bronze Saint and picked up a shining silver spoon, absently stirring her own filled cup as she spoke.

 

“We know very little at this point, I'm sorry to say. The Professor's assistant reported seeing an extremely bright flash of light and hearing what sounded like a hurricane-force wind in the hallway outside his office, but nothing more,” she explained in a manner that suggested such occurrences were commonplace. “And suddenly Hyoga was there...along with another badly injured Russian man.”

 

Seiya raised his eyebrows, silently questioning her. Saori shook her head.

 

“We haven't been able to get much out of him. We're not even sure he knows what happened to Hyoga…or himself. The poor fellow seems to have been through quite a traumatic ordeal, and it appears he's lost his capacity for rational thought. So far, all of our questions have been met with incoherent ramblings about demons and angels. I'm afraid this situation is going to require some special assistance, and in his delicate mental state, we dare not try any drugs on the man. Instead, I've asked Mu to prevail upon the Virgo Saint to aid us with his unique abilities.”

 

She placed the spoon on the counter and wrapped her hands tightly around the warm cup. “There's something else, Seiya. We've made inquiries to the Russian government concerning the identity of the man, and their response has been less than friendly to say the least. They're demanding his immediate return, and if we don't comply, they've threatened to lodge a formal complaint with our government. However, it's also quite obvious they're trying to conceal something, so I don't believe their threats are too serious…for now anyway.”

 

Seiya had little patience for politicians and governments in general. They were the same the world over…completely useless. “You think there's something in Siberia they don't want anyone to know about?”

 

She nodded. “That appears to be the case. If Hyoga stumbled onto whatever it is they're trying to hide, then we may all be in deep trouble.”

 

“Saori-san, surely you're not afraid of…” Seiya began, but the girl interrupted.

 

“Until we know exactly what's going on over there, I am very afraid. I don't want anymore Saints ending up like Hyoga!”

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

As Ikki paused outside the door of the infirmary room, his thoughts cascaded into an avalanche of uncontrollable emotions that spun and collided within him. The perplexing discovery of Hyoga's body along with the wounded Russian man, and the unknown circumstances surrounding the Cygnus Saint's death filled Ikki with apprehension. Until Hyoga awakened from his coma and was able to relate the details of whatever unknown danger had claimed him, Ikki had to assume they were all susceptible to the same threat. It was the one of the few things he and Saori had been able to agree on.

 

He slipped softly into the room and stood just inside the doorway, trying not to disturb his brother who slumbered in a chair at Hyoga's bedside, his head resting angelically against the reanimated Saint's arm. Even as he slept, the green-haired boy clung desperately to the Russian's limp, unresponsive hand. Not surprisingly, Shun had stayed by Hyoga's side from the instant his body appeared in the laboratory. As the Phoenix Saint studied the motionless pair, his heart bristled with envy. He was certainly not blind to their special bond, but he would never risk alienating his younger sibling's love by attempting to keep Shun and Hyoga apart. Ikki knew he had to accept Shun's affection for his Bronze brethren, no matter how painful it may be to witness, especially after his own moment of weakness with the remarkable Gold Saint Mu. He was almost ashamed at the relief he felt upon learning that Mu had departed for the House of Virgo. He was certain the sublime, lavender-haired being had no intention of betraying him to Shun, but Ikki could not shake his anxiety whenever Mu was near. Consumed by guilt since their encounter in the glade, Ikki tried to maintain an unimpeachable disposition, but he couldn't help wondering if Shun somehow already knew of his deceit…and his undeniable attraction to the older Aries Saint.

 

Ikki contemplated Hyoga's breathtaking profile and the long, golden lashes that feathered out from his closed eyes. It occurred to him the Russian boy was the only one among them who was truly alone. Ikki thankfully had his brother Shun, somewhere in the world Seiya had his blood sister waiting to reunite with him, and Shiryu had his stepsister Shunrei. But Hyoga, an only child, had lost both his mother and the Crystal Saint, one of the few people whom the Cygnus had greatly admired. Ikki cocked his head as a rare, warm glow of sympathy colored his cheeks. It seemed Shun was the only one who understood and acknowledged Hyoga's inner agony. In the short time the five of them had been united as a team, Shun had developed a unique connection with Hyoga that was clearly evident to everyone around them. At least Hyoga knew he was loved by Shun…truly and unconditionally. And while he respected the Siberian Saint as a warrior, Ikki's possessiveness and jealousy over Shun would forever drive a wedge between the Phoenix and the Cygnus.

 

Suddenly, Hyoga turned his head and glared at Ikki. “What are you doing here?” he snarled.

 

“Hyoga! You…you're…!”

 

“Yes, I'm awake,” Hyoga responded in a quiet, condescending tone.

 

“Nii-san?” Shun yawned, roused by Ikki's inadvertent outburst. Still drowsy, he could scarcely believe his eyes. “Hyoga…” he whispered

 

It took all the restraint with the boy to keep from throwing himself onto the bed and holding the Cygnus Saint in his arms until the sun burnt itself out and the Earth turned to dust. Though greatly relieved to find him fully conscious, his mental connection with Hyoga was still broken, and to Shun, it felt as if a limb had been severed. The loss was overwhelming, and grief pummeled his chest with sledgehammer blows. The sight of Hyoga lying listlessly in the hospital bed attached to strange medical devices completely devastated the Andromeda Saint. Hyoga's appearance had changed so drastically that he seemed like a stranger to Shun. His usual golden complexion was disturbingly waxen, and his normally loving, vibrant eyes were vacant blue spheres. Shun quickly scrubbed away the wet, salty trails that slid down his face.

 

“The Professor said you were very lucky,” Shun explained in a trembling voice. “If you hadn't made it back here when you did…” The young Saint swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, and quickly changed the subject. He chose his words carefully, speaking gently to the stricken young Russian.

 

“Hyoga, your Cloth did not return with you.” Shun was aching to find out what had happened to his Cosmo, but it did not seem the proper time to begin interrogating Hyoga. “Don't worry though. Saori believes it's still in Siberia. We'll find it for you!”

 

Hyoga did not need confirmation from Saori. He already knew where the armor had gone the instant it faded from view the night he died. The Cygnus Cloth had once again imbedded itself deep within the ancient, impenetrable glacial wall from which it originated.

 

Shun stood up, still gripping Hyoga's hand. He still hadn't noticed the saffron-haired boy's abnormally distant demeanor. “I'll fetch Hakase and let the others know that Hyoga's okay!” Shun announced, attempting a cheerful façade.

 

“Not just yet, Shun.”

 

“Eh?” He blinked at Ikki. “Why, nii-san?”

 

“Before this place is swarming with people, I need to ask Hyoga a few questions.” Ikki had watched Hyoga closely from the moment he spoke, and found something odd in his demeanor. Perhaps it was nothing. After all, he had obviously been through a traumatic ordeal, but Ikki could not dismiss the suspicions that unexpectedly invaded his thoughts.

 

“What happened over there?” Ikki asked abruptly.

 

“That's none of your concern,” Hyoga answered evenly.

 

Any sympathy Ikki had been feeling toward the Cygnus quickly dissipated. Hyoga may have been able to deceive his too-trusting brother, but to Ikki, the truth blazed across Hyoga's face like a beacon. There was no mistaking Hyoga's soulless and frigid aspect, for he had seen the same look in his own eyes not so long ago…and it disgusted him. Ikki's upper lip curled in a discernible sneer as he glowered at the bedridden Saint.

 

“Enough! Why don't you tell Shun the truth?” he challenged, hoping to elicit some kind of emotion from Hyoga.

 

Shun could not comprehend Ikki's anger. Hyoga was back from the dead, and no longer in a coma, which should have been cause for thankful prayers and celebration.

 

“He didn't lose his life in some great battle!” Ikki declared.

 

“I killed myself,” Hyoga added without hesitation.

 

“W-what are you saying? I don't understand!” Shun stammered in wide-eyed bewilderment.

 

Hyoga stared at them with stony indifference.

 

“No one did this to me…I wanted to die.”

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The medical wing had been a recent addition to the mansion, and construction was only partially complete. Yellowish plastic sheets wafted eerily in Shiryu's wake as he jogged briskly toward the room where Hyoga lay. The semi-transparent material hung over skeletal walls and doorways to keep heavy layers of construction dust from drifting throughout the rest of the house, but Shiryu thought it made the hallway look like something out of a cheap horror movie. As he hurried down the tenebrous corridor, a smile tickled the corners of his mouth. The Dragon Saint could feel Seiya's unmistakable presence in the Kido mansion. Shiryu was not surprised he had joined them once again, if only briefly. The Pegasus Saint's drunken announcement the prior day had been unusual, but Shiryu knew the instant Seiya felt the supersensory disconnection with Hyoga, his unshakable loyalty would draw him to the mansion without hesitation.

 

Shiryu slowed his pace as he approached the infirmary room. There would be plenty of time to speak with the cinnamon-haired boy later. In the cleansing light of day, Hyoga's condition was all that mattered to him. Shiryu had waited with Ikki, Shun, Mu, Saori and Tatsumi in the infirmary during those first anxious moments while physicians and scientists darted around Hyoga like tireless worker ants. Though comatose, the Russian boy's condition had finally stabilized, and the concerned group realized there was nothing more they could do. With the exception of Shun, they reluctantly headed to their separate quarters for much needed rest, but Shiryu found sleep evasive, and he suspected the others had experienced the same. He passed the time pacing nervously in his bedroom, and though his first instinct was to find solace in the company of his brethren, he decided to pray to the gods instead. He was almost thankful when Saori asked the Aries Saint to call upon the House of Virgo. The temptation of Mu's inviting embrace was becoming difficult to resist, and he was weary of trying to convince himself that he wasn't upset by the thought of Ikki and Mu together. And while Hyoga's miraculous return from the dead somewhat relieved Shiryu, deep feelings of regret continued to gnaw at him mercilessly. He had felt a disturbance within Hyoga days ago, yet he had chosen to ignore the warning. If only he had…

 

Ikki's angry voice suddenly boomed from behind the closed door. When Shiryu heard Hyoga's quiet voice respond, he sagged against the wall in relief, but his guilty conscience would not be assuaged. He breathed in deeply and tilted his head slightly, listening again before entering.

 

“Well, it looks like Hakase's voodoo science did its job,” Ikki remarked sarcastically. Hyoga's unyielding silent apathy infuriated the Phoenix Saint. “What is wrong with you? How could you just give up? We're Saints of Athena!”

 

“We're also her victims. Can't you see that?” Hyoga answered, but his words carried no emotion.

 

“You weak selfish bastard!” Ikki snarled, his hands curling into fists.

 

“Nii-san, please don't...” Shun implored in Hyoga's defense. Professor Hakase had indeed cured the Cygnus Saint of his physical wounds, but it was evident his psyche had been severely damaged as well. What could have caused him such utter despair? Did Hyoga really feel he had nothing to live for?

 

“Yamete!” Ikki snapped at his younger sibling. He pried Shun's hands away from Hyoga and roughly pushed him aside, sending the boy stumbling across the room.

 

The sound of the scuffle immediately drew Shiryu into the room. “Ikki...” he murmured, astonished by the Phoenix Saint's anger toward Shun.

 

Ikki glared a warning at the stunned Shiryu then turned his rage back on the stone-faced Russian.

 

“So, you no longer wish to be a Saint? Allow me to help you!” Ikki suddenly flared his Cosmo.

 

Hyoga seemed to take no notice of the Phoenix Saint's wrathful display, but he knew what Ikki was preparing for him...and he welcomed it.

 

“PHOENIX...!”

 

While Shiryu stood frozen with bewilderment in the doorway, Shun moved instantly between Hyoga and his brother.

 

“...AKERU KEN!”

 

But Ikki saw the boy too late. The pinpoint attack struck Shun's forehead full force. As the young Saint fell backward, Hyoga grabbed and held him, ignoring the intravenous needles that ripped from his veins as the heavy, stainless steel bed frame scraped several feet sideways across the seamlessly tiled floor.

 

“Ikki! What was that?” Shiryu hissed angrily. He ran forward to help Hyoga support the stricken Shun. Mute with horror at what he had done to his brother, Ikki could not answer. Shiryu stepped toward the Phoenix and gripped his arms, shaking him roughly. “What did you do?”

 

“H-Hyoga wanted to forget…about us…” he stammered slowly. Ikki pulled away from Shiryu's iron grasp and moved dazedly to his brother's prone body. The boy's glassy eyes stared into nothingness, his youthful face etched with terror and dismay. “Shun…” Ikki whispered, but received no answer.

 

The room fell silent, punctuated only by the cold, mechanical drone of medical equipment.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Mu emerged slowly from the mist surrounding the bleak outer steps of the House of Virgo, gliding smoothly over the landscape like a skater across a frozen pond. In contrast to his young protégé Kiki, the Aries Saint's method of teleportation was measured and deliberate. Instead of simply darting from place to place, as was the habit of his energetic, flame-haired apprentice, Mu slipped ethereally to and from his destinations, fading in and out of view like soft moonlight through passing clouds.

 

“Shaka?” he called out as his footsteps echoed throughout the vast emptiness of the temple. Fleeting white puffs billowed from his nostrils with each breath, and though quite accustomed to colder environments, Mu shivered beneath the warmth of his linen tunic and breeches, brown canvas boots, and thick woolen tippet.

 

“Shak…” The final syllable was lost as the golden image of the Virgo Saint suddenly appeared like a radiant sunrise in the dismal interior of the 6th House. Draped in a dove-white satin robe that clung provocatively to his lean, muscular physique, and apparently oblivious to winter's bone-chilling presence, Shaka advanced silently toward Mu, his bare feet scuffing lightly across the stone floor. The Aries Saint stared in mute admiration, entranced by Shaka's astounding beauty and gloriously long tresses that shimmered like burnished saffron in the shadowy recesses of the temple. Although his peers were undeniably impressive enveloped in their gilt Cloths, Mu preferred the casual seductiveness of his fellow Saints' personal wardrobes. As Shaka neared the lilac-haired visitor, he reached out and wound his honey-skinned arms around the paler man, catching him in a fervent, unbidden embrace. Mu reacted automatically, lifting his arms and hooking them around the Virgo Saint, captivated by the permeating scent of jasmine.

 

“I've missed you,” Shaka half-whispered, his unflinching gaze a tempest of gold flecks in a raging sapphire sea. Mu wanted desperately to feel gladdened by his former love's unexpectedly affectionate welcome, but he was troubled by a nebulous specter of fear that fluxed just beneath the surface of the Virgo Saint's eyes.

 

Without warning, Shaka planted his mouth firmly against Mu's, tasting the memory of Ikki on his comrade's lips. “You've bedded a Bronze Saint,” he calmly noted, releasing the Aries Saint from his grasp.

 

“Perhaps,” Mu answered reticently, unnerved by Shaka's abnormal demeanor. There was nothing to be gained by denying the truth, but he refused to volunteer any further details of his encounter with the Phoenix Saint.

 

“Why do you persist in courting such inexperienced partners?” Shaka demanded. “You know I've always loved you, yet you continue to play these ridiculous games!”

 

Mu was unprepared for Shaka's startling admission. Only a few years had passed since the end of their brief, wonderfully intense relationship, but it seemed like a vague, distant dream to the Aries Saint. At the time, Mu had deemed the termination of their union necessary, though looking back, he couldn't recall exactly why. “For the good of Sanctuary…” he thought bitterly. It had been a trying time for all the Gold Saints. Sanctuary was in turmoil…loyalties were strained, allegiances shattered…and hearts challenged. Unable to face the truth, Mu had failed the test. His youth and impulsiveness had betrayed him. Instead of trusting the strength of those closest to him, the Aries Saint chose to run away…to hide in the solitude of Jamir. The isolation of the inaccessible mountaintop mirrored his aching soul, but he was eventually able to convince himself that he need never again share his bed or his love with another. Mu had even managed to find a certain degree of happiness by turning all of his attention to perfecting his healing skills and training young Kiki. But he could not dispel the many lonely moments on the secluded craggy peak when burning memories of Shaka tortured and consumed him. For half a decade, Mu yearned for his former love, and the day finally came when he could no longer bear his reclusive existence. He was preparing to return to Sanctuary, to find Shaka and beg him for another chance, but the Aries Saint was forestalled by the arrival of a determined young Bronze Saint whose unyielding courage and self-sacrifice captured his soul. By the time Dragon Shiryu departed Jamir to fulfill his destiny, the Aries Saint had fallen deeply in love with the coal-haired boy.

 

“Don't you want to know why I'm here?” Mu asked pointedly, attempting to guide the conversation toward more urgent matters.

 

Shaka did not answer, but continued to leer at the doe-eyed man.

 

“Athena needs you,” Mu stated emphatically.

 

“And what about you? Do you need me?” the Virgo Saint pressed enticingly.

 

Mu's brow knitted in confusion as he tumbled the words over in his mind, searching for an appropriate response but finding none. Shaka's sudden and extraordinary display of emotionalism sounded a warning within Mu. A biting wind cut through the ominously silent temple, causing the top of the Virgo Saint's loose-fitting garment to slip down, revealing the cause of his erratic behavior. Two thickly braided bands of iridescent violet fabric looped over the golden man's bare shoulders, forming an `x' across his chest. It was the Cestus, Aphrodite's legendary belt that gave the wearer the ability to excite love and passion in others. And while Mu remained unaffected by its influence, which he attributed to his non-human physiology, the powerful cords seemed to be having the reverse effect on Shaka. At any other time, the Aries Saint might have enjoyed and perhaps even encouraged Shaka's highly uninhibited state, but Saori needed the Virgo Saint lucid…and without delay. Mu grabbed at the Cestus, intending to rip it away, but Shaka easily avoided the attempt. With the blinding speed of a viper's strike, he removed the silk sash from around the waist of his milky-white robe and ensnared Mu's hands, binding them tightly together.

 

“Shaka! We don't have time for this!” Mu implored as he struggled to loosen the seemingly unbreakable ribbon that tethered his wrists.

 

The Virgo Saint held the ends of the sash taut and breathed in deeply, concentrating. Cold, ancient marble began to melt and bleed away as undulating visions transformed the temple. Shaka pulled Mu into his consciousness, creating fantastic images and sensations within the Aries Saint's mind. He could have simply willed himself away from Shaka, but possessed by indomitable curiosity, Mu could not leave the illusion. Though deeply concerned for his ex-lover's mental state, he knew above all else that Shaka would never try to harm him. Mu had to find out how the Cestus arrived into the Virgo Saint's hands…and what part he was to play in the Shaka's fantasy. Surely Saori could spare them a few moments.

 

The unreal world slowly came into focus, unfolding languidly like the bejeweled tail of a peacock, culminating in a serene, riparian spectacle. Winter's icy touch was suddenly banished as dizzying sparks of warm summer sunlight danced around them, filtered through an arborous canopy. The tree-lined riverbank burst forth with a rainbow of flowering plants while a softly tangled melody of unseen wind chimes and songbirds lilted above the gurgling waterway. Still bound by Shaka's lasso, Mu began to pluck at his sweltering, thermal clothing. He shrugged the heavy shawl to the ground and kicked off his boots, relishing the feel of the lush, delicate grass beneath his feet. A playful breeze fanned open the Virgo Saint's robe, and as Mu beheld the perfection of Shaka's nude body, the pressing matters at the Kido mansion crept farther from his thoughts. Though completely aware they had not left the temple, Mu was utterly entranced by Shaka's imaginary playground.

 

Shaka tugged on the silk leash and guided Mu toward a long, white gondola floating at the water's edge. Though the current was swift and powerful, the vessel was fixed and still, waiting for them. As they stepped aboard the elegantly carved boat and seated themselves amongst the colorful, oddly shaped cushions that lined the interior, the gondola began to move of its own volition, drifting lazily along the gently twisting river. Peace and relaxation claimed Mu's body, and he did nothing to prevent it. He leaned back against a thick cluster of pillows and closed his eyes, turning his face toward the artificial sun. As Mu basked in the startlingly realistic solar heat created by Shaka's mind, he no longer cared that his hands were tied.

 

As he watched Mu lazing in the sunshine, a crooked smile pulled up the corners of Shaka's mouth. It was strangely satisfying holding such complete control over the Aries Saint, but there was a part of him that did not enjoy the baffling need to conquer the beautiful creature that lounged sedately at the rear of the gondola. Shaka absently brushed his fingers over the Cestus, and a brief flicker of subconscious guilt awakened a disjointed memory within him. He had received another visitor before Mu's arrival at the temple, and was presented with the unusual but lovely gift. Though he strained to recall who had given him the belt, he could not remember the events immediately prior to slipping the cords over his shoulders. The brief distraction quickly faded as Shaka once again succumbed to the seduction of the Cestus and the alluring presence of the Aries Saint. His smug, hungry grin reappeared as he slowly crawled toward Mu and straddled the lavender-haired man. He sat upright, resting on the Aries Saint's thighs as he removed the binding from his hands. Mu was startled but remained motionless as Shaka angled forward, tying the sash around his head and over his eyes. The Virgo Saint grasped the front of Mu's shirt, and as easily as a sheet of paper, deliberately ripped it down the middle, eagerly smoothing his palms over Mu's ivory throat, granite chest and lean belly. The Aries Saint moaned at the familiar caress of his former love, and had already reached full arousal when Shaka slipped his warm, seeking hand inside the front of his breeches. The Virgo Saint breathed a soft sound of approval and released Mu's erect member from the confines of the unyielding fabric. As it buoyantly sprang forth, Shaka bent down and kissed the plum-colored mushroom tip. Rendered sightless by the blindfold, Mu wanted desperately to reach out and explore every inch of his partner's perfect body. He longed to feel the smooth heat of Shaka's skin beneath the cool silk robe, and entangle his fingers in the Virgo Saint's voluminous citrine hair. But his arms and legs were spread-eagled, restrained at the wrists and ankles by the sudden appearance of four leather straps bolted to the bottom of the gondola.

 

The Aries Saint writhed helplessly as Shaka snaked his rosy-pink tongue down the entire length of his throbbing shaft. Long-buried sentiments of the past bloomed fresh within Mu with each familiar sensation, flooding him with emotions as powerful as the current that carried them downstream. But fragments of doubt scratched at the edges of his joy. Without the Cestus, would the Virgo Saint need or even want him? Mu was not sure how he might respond if Shaka was indeed attempting to find a way back into his heart. The possibility of another failed romance with the radiant man of Buddha was too painful to contemplate. While Shaka continued demonstrate his incredible oral skills, it occurred to Mu that he was right about Ikki. Though the young Phoenix was a remarkable lover for one with so little experience, the Virgo Saint was extremely gifted in the sensual arts, and was quite familiar with Mu's body. His thoughts drifted briefly to Shiryu. He was saddened that the boy had not given him the chance to find out what kind of lover he might be. The Aries Saint yelped in surprise as Shaka suddenly bit down hard on the rough linen of his trousers, pinching the sinewy muscle of his inner thigh. It was an unsubtle reminder that Shaka was in complete control of their utopian dream world, and ruminations of outsiders would not be tolerated.

 

Shaka had grown impatient. His body and mind were besieged by a monstrous lust he had never known before. He wanted to destroy the beautiful man who lay before him. Hidden from Mu's awareness, repulsive yet oddly erotic imaginings infested Shaka's thoughts, burrowing into his brain like corpulent maggots. The Virgo Saint became a dark creature of the night, a black-winged demon with an insatiable hunger for pain, fear and blood. He envisioned piercing Mu's flawless body with terrible claws and licking the wounds as they wept sticky sweet crimson. With voracious glee, he sank cadaver-white canines into perfect alabaster flesh, draining the life-fluid from his lover, to the very edge of death. He yielded to the grisly urge to rend Mu's smoothly muscled abdomen and bury his hands in the Aries Saint's hot, slippery guts.

 

Though shielded from the nightmarish images, Mu still sensed the sudden, frightening change within the Virgo Saint. “He's not responsible…it's the Cestus!” Mu desperately told himself. He renewed his struggle to break free of the straps and blindfold.

 

“Shaka? Can't we do this…elsewhere…please?” Mu begged, wishing he could see the Virgo Saint's eyes, but his plea was ignored. He tried to teleport out of the fantasy, but Shaka's hold on his consciousness was unwavering. In desperation, Mu burned his Cosmo, sending disruptive ripples throughout the imaginary landscape. Shaka was fixated so intently on his dark thoughts that the brief fluctuation went unnoticed. Though it was not enough to completely destroy the illusion, it was enough free one of Mu's hands. He swung his arm up and outward, raking his fingers across Shaka's chest and hooking the Cestus. The Aries Saint yanked with all his might on the belt, pulling it roughly from Shaka's body.

 

The cloud-white gondola, glistening blue river and blazing summer sun abruptly vanished, leaving the two Gold Saints once again facing each other in the cold, empty House of Virgo. The erotic scenario had only existed in their minds, and though they had not moved since Shaka's construction of the stunning illusion, Mu felt physically drained…weakened by the Virgo Saint's powerful mental control. Mu glanced down at his clothes. They had also returned fully intact, but they could not protect him from the shock of winter's icy grip that slammed him forcibly back into reality. His legs turned rubbery and gave way. He sank to his hands and knees, gripping the Cestus tightly in his trembling fist, cursing the unknown villain who had brought the powerful belt to the unwitting Virgo Saint. The silk sash that Shaka had used to bind him brushed softly against his skin as it slid loosely down his wrist and onto the temple's stone floor. Mu stared at it, shivering as his arousal waned, selfishly and regretfully wishing he and Shaka could return to the warm, verdant dreamland. He glanced up at the golden man. Shaka stood motionless over Mu, numb and unseeing. The Aries Saint drew in several frigid breaths, trying to clear his own thoughts and calm his shaken nerves. He rose unsteadily to his feet, tucked the Cestus deep inside his tunic and hesitantly reached out a hand toward Shaka's shoulder. The instant Mu's fingertips grazed his topaz skin the Virgo Saint shuddered and sighed, finally released from the aftereffects of Aphrodite's belt.

 

“Mu?” he whispered in disbelief. His thoughts were muddled, but as the veil of uncertainty lifted from his brain, contrition eclipsed Shaka's bewilderment. “Mu! I…I'm so sorry!” he lamented. “What…what have I done? Are you injured?”

 

Mu shook his head, concern for the Virgo Saint shining plainly in his eyes. Buffeted by remorse, Shaka grasped the compassionate hand that lay against his shoulder. The men remained silent for several moments, each contemplating the unsettling incident that had transpired between them. As they stood in solemn communion, the late afternoon sun dipped low in the heavens, casting shadows in the far corners of the temple.

 

Suddenly, thick black flagellum lashed out from the darkest recesses, winding around Shaka's wrists and ankles, instantly sapping his strength. The Virgo Saint howled in agony, crumpling into a rigid heap, his body convulsing violently and uncontrollably, as though electrocuted. Mu blinked, unable to accept the nightmare his eyes beheld, then immediately knelt beside the writhing Saint and began clawing at the sticky, unyielding tendrils with his fingernails.

 

“If this is another one of your illusions, it is not amusing! Please, Shaka, make it stop!” Mu implored, but it was no fantasy. The Aries Saint searched his memory; quite certain he had never before encountered such a creature, yet there was something disturbingly familiar about it. As he continued to pull uselessly at the vile substance, he was unaware that several offshoots of the ropy ooze stretched toward him, licking at his back, yet the blackness could not touch the Aries Saint.

 

Shaka weakened rapidly, moaning plaintively as the unearthly slime tightened around his limbs, flaying the perfect skin beneath.

 

“Shaka, listen to me!” Mu shouted. He grasped the tortured man's shoulders and shook him roughly as blood began to seep around the deepening wounds. “Burn your Cosmo, Shaka! You must try!”

 

But the Virgo Saint could not hear him. Though his body twitched spasmodically, he had been rendered unconscious. Mu silently thanked the gods and prayed that wherever Shaka's wonderful mind had found refuge he could no longer feel pain. The Aries Saint was reluctant to attack the tendrils out of fear the vulnerable Shaka might be struck in the process, but as the hellish blackness began to pull his lover slowly back toward the shadows, he rose swiftly to his feet and flared his Cosmo. Glowing with anger and the ancient power of the Gold Saints, his aura poured forth like a beacon.

 

“STARLIGHT EXTINCTION!”

 

Blinding prismatic light engulfed the temple, reaching its Stygian target with ease. As the cleansing light began to fade, Mu emitted a sharp gasp of astonishment. He had used his most potent and lethal attack, yet the gelatinous lobes appeared unchanged. Dread eroded his rage as the tendrils quivered slightly then fell away from Shaka's body, retreating into the pitchy crevices of the temple. Mu dazedly lifted the injured man into his arms, trying to comprehend the nightmare he had witnessed. Could the shapeless, monstrous thing have been sent as punishment for Shaka's transgression with the Cestus? Mu shook his head, unable to calculate a rational explanation. He could only blame himself, and his weakness for Shaka's love. Had he not tarried, but insisted the Virgo Saint return with him to the mansion without delay…by force if necessary…Shaka need not have suffered. Mu held him tightly as they faded out of sight, materializing moments later in the Temple of Aries.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The soft flannel drawstring pants tickled lightly against Hyoga's legs as he moved unseen through the darkened hallways of the Kido research building. He relished the cold still air that embraced his bare upper torso and feet. Though a handful of scientists toiled in the sterile testing rooms, the remainder of the mansion's extensive medical wing was deserted. The Russian boy had fashioned a long-sleeved shirt into a makeshift haversack and filled it with hundreds of small glass bottles pilfered from various laboratory supply cabinets. The vials clinked lightly gently together as he treaded carefully toward the infirmary and slipped back into the room he shared with the injured Shun. Fortunately for Hyoga, the lack of appropriate space caused by the construction had forced Saori to transfer the wounded pilot to a nearby Graude-owned hospital, and Shun had apparently fallen into a complete vegetative state. After a brief search, Hyoga found his clothing, which had been laundered, folded and tucked neatly into the small nightstand next to his bed. He dressed quickly and glanced at Shun, studying his motionless form. The boy was curled into a tight fetal ball, his thumb wedged between his colorless, slack lips. Ikki's blow had trapped his consciousness somewhere deep in the caverns of his mind. This was the legacy of the Saints, to bring pain, torture and death to their enemies, their loved ones…and even themselves…all in the name of a god's honor. Defending the so-called justice of one deity over another and then forcing it upon the world made no sense to Hyoga. As he stared with icy reserve at Shun, he almost wished he could revive the deep feelings he once had for the young Andromeda Saint, but no emotion came forth, only bitter realization that settled over him like a heavy cloak. They may have been born innocent, but none of the Saints would die pure of heart…not even Shun. There was nothing he could do for his former comrade. Even if he had the power to reverse Ikki's attack, Hyoga was not sure he would help the boy. He gathered up the shirt containing the stolen chemicals, turned away from Shun and crept quietly out of the room.

 

As the door slowly swung shut, formless black tentacles whipped upward from underneath the bed and wound tightly around Shun's entire body, wrapping him in a ghastly opaque husk. The boy whimpered and struggled feebly against the unending blackness that fluxed into every part of him like a suffocating mist. His body seemed to liquefy and blend with the fleshy slime as it oozed slug-like back into the shadows beneath the bed, leaving no trace that it had ever been in the room.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Lexie Bloodstone maneuvered the sleek red sports car skillfully over the snowy, moonlit road that led to the Kido mansion, glancing briefly at the pallid man seated on her right. She had been captivated by his supernatural appearance from the first moment they met and more than 6 years later her admiration had not waned. His ashen skin shone luminously under the soft lunar glow that poured through the windshield and the ivory-colored overcoat he wore made his features seem even paler against the frigid winter backdrop. He had loosened his enviable platinum mane from its usual thick, long braid and wisps of the shimmering threads fell forward into his face. His mesmerizing silver eyes glimmered vibrantly, reflecting the muted light like polished chrome, and while unnoticeable to anyone else, Lexie could easily detect the tortured emptiness that lay just beneath his seemingly emotionless surface. Though he never fully explained the details, she knew he had suffered a horrifying existence prior to their meeting. He once possessed great power, but a lost battle against a dishonorable opponent had sealed his fate. For centuries he had survived an unimaginable nightmare few of his kind could have survived. Somehow he had managed to escape, but it nearly destroyed him, leaving him a feeble apparition of his former self. Fortunately, he and Lexie met when they needed each other most, but as the years passed the girl began to wonder if it was more than just chance that had brought them together.

 

Lexie slowed the vehicle, bringing it to a stop at the imposing gated driveway. Concern inscribed a frown across her face.

 

“Do you really think Saori Kido will just welcome me with open arms after the way she threw me out the last time I was here?” she complained. “Why do we need her at all?”

 

“You are well aware of the reason,” he responded patiently. “The Brood is gathering strength and it will not be long until…”

 

“Yes, I know…” she interrupted, pouting sullenly. “But what about the others? I'm as good as any of them!”

 

A rare, tiny smile played over his lips. He had grown fond of the brash young female, and her willingness to sacrifice herself was touching. He might have accepted the offer had her abilities been awakened and developed sooner, but she knew there was only one who could aid him.

 

Lexie carefully nosed the automobile closer to the gate and lowered the driver's side window. A sharp voice crackled through the intercom mounted on the mortar and stone gatepost.

 

“State your business…”

 

She rolled her eyes impatiently. “I'm here to see Saori Kido…” she began then paused, toying with the idea of giving a false name. “I'm Lexie Bloodstone.” She stared defiantly into the lens of the security camera positioned just above the intercom. Her announcement was answered with silence, but a moment later, the heavy wrought iron gate swung slowly inward. The girl made a soft sound of surprise and grinned at her passenger.

 

“Well, that was easier than I expected! I may have misjudged Saori.” Their previous encounter had ended badly, and despite her best efforts to dislike the powerful young heiress, Lexie could not suppress the odd closeness she felt toward Saori. It was if she had known her for many years. “I just hope Ms. Kido doesn't hold a grudge...”

 

Her mentor said nothing. The events to follow would be difficult for Lexie, but she was owed the truth…finally. She had never relinquished the search for her past, and to keep it from her any longer would be cruel and unfair. After all she had done for him it was the least he could do to repay her. He doubted she would forgive his deception, but his task had only begun, and the concerns of one girl could not stand in his way.

 

Alone inside her bedroom, Saori paced nervously, her thoughts a tumult of worry.

 

“Why hasn't Mu returned with Shaka? What could be delaying them?” With Shun in such dire condition, they needed the Virgo Saint's help more than ever. Her measured gait slowed then stopped as she sensed a strange and disturbingly powerful energy approach the mansion. Her goddess aura suddenly flared beyond her control. Saori stared down at her body in bewilderment.

 

“No…please…Seiya…” she whimpered piteously as Athena once again surfaced, burying Saori far within the depths of her mind.

 

Lexie's heart pounded with nervous excitement as she edged the car parallel to the familiar white doorway and stepped out into the crisp winter air. She headed toward the house, turning to glance at her footprints silhouetted against the thin layer of snow on the gravel-covered driveway. It was then that she noticed her partner had not exited the vehicle. Lexie ran to the side of the car and wrenched the door open anxiously.

 

“What is it? What's wrong?” she asked, leaning inside and hovering over him protectively.

 

“The maw worm…the Brood…” he panted in a low voice, barely audible.

 

She immediately bristled and scanned their surroundings, her eyes darkening with wary anger. Though snow and night shadows obscured the estate grounds, it would not be difficult to locate the black malevolence. “Here?”

 

He shook his head slowly, recovering quickly. “No…they are gone…but I can still feel their residue…”

 

The argentine-hued man suddenly paused and dropped his gaze to his nimbus form. Lexie stifled a gasp as a jagged, electric halo of azure light enveloped him. She had never before witnessed the manifestation of his energy and the dark, raw force of it startled her. Lexie shivered as she watched his eyes change from fathomless silver to the color of dried blood.

 

“Ah, I have waited eons for this moment!” he murmured with dark delight. He lifted his hands and slowly turned them over, studying the dancing phosphorescence that surrounded them. As he emerged from the car, his aura illuminated the night, splashing neon blue radiance over the landscape. He glanced at his worried partner and emitted a deep, rumbling chuckle. “Do not fret,” he soothed, amused by her obvious distress. “All is well, my dear guardian. There is nothing to fear…”

 

Lexie winced. His gentle, melodious voice had changed as well. It boomed and echoed around her, emanating from an unearthly plane as dark and frightening as his eyes. He was no longer the fragile, anemic victim who needed her protection.

 

He patted her shoulder reassuringly and smiled. He had often mentioned that his strength would eventually return, but the drastic shift in his appearance had taken her by complete surprise. His spectacular recovery was indeed a relief, but it also signaled the end of their alliance. Her past was still a mystery to her and she dreaded the idea of being alone once more.

 

“It was inevitable,” she agreed, struggling to bury her sadness and trepidation. “I just didn't expect it to be so sudden…and different.” Lexie reached up, briefly gripped the hand that lay against her shoulder then turned and strode purposefully toward the mansion. “At least we have a definitive answer to one question. Saori Kido is Athena.”

 

As if on cue, she appeared in the doorway, her gold-white aura clashing with electric indigo.

 

Lexie was momentarily paralyzed. “Saori!” she breathed, awestruck by the goddess.

 

The sapphire imbued man moved past the stunned girl and approached the mansion steps. “You are the Daughter of Zeus,” he stated with certainty.

 

She nodded once. “I am Athena…and you?”

 

“Do you not recognize me, Pallus Athena? Have I changed so much? Perhaps the time you have spent in that human vessel has impaired your memory.”

 

She carefully studied the man's face then suddenly clasped a hand to her bosom. “I-I do know you!” she breathed. “You are…!”

 

He smiled and bowed his head graciously. “Yes, Athena. I am Prometheus.”

 

“But…how…why are you here?” she fumbled, revealing Saori's human presence within the goddess.

 

“How I came to be here is a lengthy tale best saved for another time. As for why I am here…novus ordo seclorum, Athena. I need your help.”

 

As she moved toward him, a clamor of hurried footsteps from inside the mansion brought Shiryu and Seiya to the open doorway. They too had been summoned by the stranger's energy. The pair stood panting in the wintry night air, troubled by the appearance of the goddess.

 

“Athena! We felt an unusual presence and…”

 

The Pegasus Saint suddenly paused. His glance traveled from the strange imposing figure bathed in ethereal blue light to the calm young woman who waited patiently at his side. “Seika…” he whispered, hesitant to utter her name aloud should the image of his sister merely be a cruel hallucination. But the Dragon Saint saw her too. Lexie's obvious resemblance to chestnut-haired boy was astonishing, and it was Shiryu's soft gasp that told Seiya he was not dreaming.

 

Shiryu strained to pull his gaze away from the girl who looked like Seiya, and was instantly caught by the eyes of Prometheus. Trapped like an insect in a spider's silken threads, he could not turn away from the Titan. He felt weak, unable to move as the constraints of time and space began to slip away. If the platinum-haired deity suddenly commanded him to fly to the ends of the universe and back, he would have gladly complied. A slow, suffocating, honey-thick sensation coiled around him, leaving Shiryu in a state of paralyzing euphoria. In the passing of a heartbeat, he had become completely enraptured by the shining god, who seemed unaware of the effect he was having on the Dragon Saint.

 

Prometheus blinked, and as the hold was broken, Shiryu nearly lost his balance. Breathless and shaking, he hurriedly shifted his attention to the ground. “If that was merely a taste of the Titan's power, what kind of gods were these who existed long before the Olympians?” the boy wondered nervously.

 

Lexie glared impatiently at the two young Saints, quite disinterested in their arrival. She abruptly turned her back on the pair, increasingly perturbed by Prometheus' fawning over the goddess. It was time to focus on more important matters. “Pardon me for disrupting your happy little reunion,” Lexie interjected, her words tinged with sarcasm. “But this house has been invaded by an extremely dangerous entity. Athena, is anyone else inside?”

 

“Entity? How odd…I felt nothing, until the arrival of you and Prometheus…”

 

Lexie tried to suppress her annoyance, wondering if Saori's consciousness was still fully aware while under Athena's control. Though they shared one body, Lexie felt pity for the girl, and scorn for the goddess. “Of course you couldn't feel anything. You're not a Titan.”

 

Seiya tensed instinctively. He would not allow anyone to speak to Athena in such a disrespectful manner, including his own sister. “Seika! You shouldn't…!”

 

She whirled around, sparks of anger dancing vividly in her eyes. “Why do you keep calling me that? Who do you think I am?” she demanded loudly then paused as a casual memory suddenly emerged. “I recognize you…”

 

The Pegasus Saint held his breath. “Does she finally remember?”

 

“At the hotel in Tokyo…you were there, in the lobby…”

 

Seiya nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes! I tried to follow, to stop you, because you're…!”

 

Prometheus calmly interrupted. “Pegasus, wait…not yet. Please be patient.”

 

Seiya swallowed hard against the threatening tears and choking sadness that tightened his throat. “Why should I? Do you know how long I've waited…what I've been through…?” he snarled. But a sudden thought burned through his despair, and he stared at the stranger in disbelief, his dark hazel eyes wet with sorrow.. “He knows Lexie is Seika…he knows she's my sister!”

 

“Do not question his bidding!” Lexie admonished angrily, ignoring Seiya's emotional outburst. “He is Prometheus, creator of man and giver of fire! No Olympian can transcend the power and might of a Titan!”

 

“She's certainly unencumbered by objectivity,” Athena noted, glancing at her peer.

 

“Ah, yes…it pains me to admit that I am to blame for her disdain of the gods of Olympus,” he admitted. “Of course, it was several hundred years before I was able to confine my own hatred to just one…”

 

Athena's expression was one of understanding, but further discussion was curtailed by Tatsumi's anxious appearance in the doorway.

 

“Mistress Sa…oh, Athena!” he called out timidly. “Hyoga and Shun are missing!”

 

Shiryu and Seiya turned in unison and stared at the nervous manservant. “What do you mean 'missing'?” Seiya demanded.

 

“How can that be?” Shiryu questioned.

 

Tatsumi shrugged apologetically. “The entire house and laboratory have been searched. The only evidence we've found so far is one set of footprints in the snow leading away from the mansion, but the trail ends at the road just beyond the grounds of the estate. We have reason to believe Hyoga made those tracks. Also, a sizable quantity of rare chemicals appears to have been stolen, as well as some money belonging to Lab Technician Maruyama.”

 

“You think Hyoga's a thief?” Seiya angrily challenged.

 

“What about Shun? He was in a deep coma!” Shiryu observed, hoping Seiya would remain calm and think before reacting. “He couldn't have simply gotten up and walked away. Someone must have moved him.”

 

“So now you're going to tell me Hyoga's a kidnapper?” the quick-tempered Pegasus Saint ranted. “That's just stupid!” He fought the urge to race toward the medical wing; to the room Hyoga and Shun had been sharing. He had no doubt Tatsumi investigated the matter thoroughly, and if the Andromeda Saint had truly disappeared Ikki would make his usual spectacular return within moments. Seiya fixed a hard, suspicious glare on the Titan god.

 

Tatsumi remained fixed to the steps of the mansion, mesmerized by the ghostly being swathed in blue lightning. Though the night air was bitterly cold, shimmering beads of sweat clung to his scalp and forehead. “No one saw or heard anything,” he continued. “It's as if they simply disappeared into thin air.”

 

“So it begins…” Prometheus noted gravely. “The very young, the aged, the weak and the injured will be the first incised from this planet's population…then it is only a matter of time until every man, woman and child…every living thing…is expunged. Athena, it is a certainty your Saints were not the only ones to vanish this day.”

 

“Impossible!” Seiya protested angrily. “I don't believe you!”

 

“But…it's true…” a nebulous voice drifted around them. With eerie tranquility, the Aries Saint materialized from the moon shadows that stained the snow-covered ground, his Gold Cloth reflecting the Titan god's cobalt aura. Kiki accompanied his mentor, tightly clutching the older Saint's hand. The impish boy seemed unusually troubled, and kept his eyes fixed at his feet, occasionally reaching up with a small fist to swipe at the enormous tears that trailed down his plump red cheeks. Mu's usual pleasant countenance had hardened, his sensuous mouth drawn tight into a thin line of worry.

 

An unconscious smile flicked across Seiya's lips. He felt almost naked without his Pegasus Cloth, but he knew Athena would not condone such an obvious display of aggression. Opposing the Titan god alone was strangely intimidating, but his determination was bolstered by the arrival of the Gold Saint. With Mu's help, the insanity might be stopped after all.

 

“We've just returned from the temples. Virgo Saint Shaka was injured in a…training mishap, but before I could tend to his wounds, he was taken before my eyes…and I was powerless to prevent it.” Since Mu learned that it was Kiki who had delivered the belt to Shaka, he was careful to omit any mention of the events that had transpired at the House of Virgo. After seeing the disabled Gold Saint, the lad immediately confessed. Though still a child, Mu often forgot that Kiki was rapidly maturing, and perhaps without knowing exactly why, the boy could be ruled by the same thoughts and emotions that swayed his elders. Mu was aware of Kiki's noticeable interest in Shiryu, but the Aries Saint believed it was simply a harmless boyhood crush. His pupil, however, considered it quite serious. When Mu admitted his own desire for the Dragon Saint, the young apprentice was overcome with jealousy. He contrived a plan to deflect Mu's interest away from Shiryu by utilizing the little-known Cestus. Shaka and Mu were former lovers, making the Virgo Saint the obvious target. Shaka was unfamiliar with the Cestus, and wore the gift without suspicion, but the unpredictable effects of Aphrodite's belt and the unnerving disappearance of the Gold Saint filled Kiki with inconsolable penitence. As Mu glanced down at the tearful boy, his expression softened. There was no guarantee the Pisces Saint would drop the matter of the stolen Cestus, but Mu would do everything he could to keep Kiki's transgression a secret.

 

“Mu…” Prometheus whispered.

 

The lavender-haired Saint contemplated the towering specter with mild alarm. “Do I know you, sir?”

 

“No, but I knew your people,” the Titan responded earnestly.

 

Mu's thoughts careened with a thousand questions, but incredulity and wonderment held his tongue. Something deep inside told him the extraordinary stranger spoke the truth.

 

Shiryu seized the opportunity to speak in the fleeting silence. “God Prometheus,” he began with careful and deliberate respect. “May I ask what has become of our comrades and the others you claim were taken? Are they…dead?”

 

“The Saints, perhaps not…but the others…” he responded evasively. “Had we more time, it would be my pleasure to explain all that has occurred, and all that is about to transpire, but fear not…you will soon understand.” He suddenly paused, as if listening to the voices of an unseen world. “We can tarry no longer. Metis awaits, Athena.”

 

The nearly forgotten name stunned the goddess. “Metis…Metis? She lives?”

 

“She…exists,” he replied cryptically.

 

Seiya's patience had run out. “I don't know what's happening here, but no one is going anywhere until I get some answers!”

 

Athena moved slowly and gracefully toward Seiya. “I realize this may be overwhelming and quite confusing to you,” she replied. “But it is important you understand one thing. This is Prometheus. He has come to us seeking aid, and he will receive it. If the Titan god insists danger is imminent, we can believe him…without question.” She stood before the tormented young Saint, allowing her words to settle into his mind before continuing. “Do you trust me, Seiya?”

 

“Of course!” he responded defensively, as if the question wounded him.

 

“Then give your trust to Prometheus.”

 

There were times when submitting to the will of the goddess bruised the boy's ego, but he bowed his head in compliance. “Yes, Athena.”

 

“We may require your assistance at a later time, Pegasus,” the Titan added with vague reassurance. “But for now, there is only one who can fulfill my immediate needs…Dragon Saint Shiryu.”

 

Lexie turned away from Prometheus in disgust. Athena and her helots had not only usurped her rightful position with the god, they were departing with the only companion, friend, and mentor she had known since the loss of her memory so many years ago. But Prometheus had trained her well. She buried her emotions as her breath plumed upward in short resentful bursts, clearly visible in the icy night air.

 

“I will not order you, Shiryu, but I beg you…please accompany us,” the Goddess of Wisdom added.

 

He could not deny her request. He closed his eyes and nodded solemnly.

 

“You may not survive,” Prometheus quietly warned, impressed by the youth's unwavering loyalty.

 

Shiryu stole a quick glance at the magnificent god. “I understand,” he answered without hesitation, clenching his fists.

 

“Shiryu, you can't…!”

 

“What choice do I have, Seiya?” he replied, trying to conceal his anguish. “What choice do any of us have? It's our fate…”

 

Seiya's Cosmo smoldered within him, pushing dangerously close to the surface. If he couldn't convince Shiryu to defy Prometheus and Athena, he had to find a way to go with them. Yet how could he leave Seika? Indecision tore at the Pegasus Saint. Either way, he would once again be parted from someone he loved.

 

“I…I'm sorry, Shiryu…” he stammered.

 

The raven-haired boy shook his head in confusion. “For what?”

 

“For not letting us…for not allowing you to...” Seiya's soul ached with regret as he struggled to find the words. “I wish we could have…gotten closer…and now it might be too late…”

 

“Don't worry, I'll return safely…” Shiryu soothed, his eyes beaming with adoration. Though only a year older, he always felt wonderfully vulnerable in Seiya's presence.

 

“How do you know?” the boy asked plaintively, his voice rough with sorrow.

 

Shiryu kissed the younger Saint deeply, as though it was his last. “My love for you will always bring me back. You are my life,” he murmured breathlessly then gently but firmly pushed Seiya away, as if touching him had become unbearable. Shiryu turned his back on Seiya, his hair sweeping over the boy's face like a silken black veil. The Pegasus Saint's tea-brown eyes glistened with tears as he breathed in, trying to etch Shiryu's scent into his memory.

 

As the Dragon Saint moved to follow Athena, Seiya reached out and grabbed his shoulder, tugging him back. It was all happening too fast. Confronted with Shiryu's imminent departure toward an uncertain end terrified Seiya beyond reason. He could no longer ignore that which his soul had embraced long ago. The boy from the Rozan Peaks owned his heart, and somehow Seiya had to make him stay.

 

Suddenly, the Pegasus Saint's body heaved violently backward. He slammed against the facade of the mansion, shaking the entire structure to its foundation and shattering its windows. He slumped to ground like a broken marionette, trailed by a shower of wood, mortar and glass fragments. Tatsumi yelped sharply, darting away from the mansion and the lethal downpour. The assault occurred with such explosive force and blinding speed that both gods and Saints had been caught completely off guard.

 

“Seiya!”

 

Shiryu sprinted to his fallen friend and knelt at his side, trying to straighten the boy's tangled limbs. Almost instantly, Mu and Kiki appeared next to him.

 

“Let me help,” the Aries Saint gently urged. Shiryu reluctantly complied and rose slowly to his feet, unable to breathe as Mu searched for a glimmer of consciousness within Seiya.

 

Though it appeared to be a simple blow that Seiya should have been able to withstand quite easily, it had somehow drained his life force to the threshold of death. Consumed by rage, Shiryu glared at Prometheus with open contempt, but his anger withered as he discovered the true source of the attack. Lexie stood calmly, one hand outstretched, enveloped in a brilliant violet glow, jagged and irregular, like the Titan god's. The girl lowered her arm, unconcerned by the injured Pegasus Saint.

 

“That was a warning. Do not interfere,” she remarked coldly.

 

“Lexie, you really must learn to control yourself!” Prometheus admonished. “There is no need for concern, Dragon Saint. Your friend will recover momentarily. His Cosmo is quite remarkable. Without it, I'm afraid he would not have survived.” The Titan turned to Athena. “I do apologize, Goddess. My guardian is a formidable warrior, and rather headstrong at times.”

 

“Rather like someone else I know,” the goddess admitted, displaying a tiny relieved smile. Lexie's resemblance to Seiya was becoming more evident.

 

As if on cue, the Pegasus Saint emitted a low moan and began to stir under Mu's healing touch. Shiryu immediately reached down, offering his hand to Seiya.

 

“What happened?” he asked, his body trembling uncontrollably as he fought to stand.

 

Shiryu knew his answer would hurt Seiya even more than the attack, but he could not conceal the truth from him. “It was Seika.”

 

Seiya could not speak. He stared in the direction of his sister, and though his vision was still blurred, the pulsing glare was unmistakable. “No! It can't be!” he whispered, sickened by the sight. His thoughts immediately flashed to his encounter with Seika in Tokyo, replaying the events in the hotel lobby that had rendered immobile. He assumed his foe was the man he now knew to be the Titan Prometheus, but a visible tremor of horror shook the boy to his core as he realized it was Seika who had assaulted him that day.

 

An unspoken command drew Lexie to Prometheus. As she stood before him, anxious and expectant, he leaned over, resting his hands gently on her shoulders. The Titan knew the moment he released the girl their bond would be forever severed, but he could not face the alternative. If Lexie discovered his deceit, she would despise him until the end of her days. He spoke softly into her ear, discernible sadness clouding his sanguine eyes. The time they had spent together would become nothing more than a nebulous dream to the girl, as Seiya had been to her for so many years. “You are Seika, and the one for whom you've been searching is here…Seiya is your brother.” Overcome by the shock, her knees began to buckle. Prometheus held her tightly as the world she knew disintegrated, washed away by a deluge of memories from her past. The Titan gently laid her unconscious form on the ground then quickly turned away. “Goodbye, Lexie Bloodstone,” he whispered.

 

Seiya stumbled toward his sister and dropped to his knees beside her body, cradling her head in his lap. “What did you do to her?” he shouted at the god.

 

Suddenly, a gargantuan cyclone of volcanic fury twisted and expanded in the driveway. Yellow-orange flames licked outward, vaporizing the surrounding ice and snow into a hissing landscape of steam. A black silhouette took shape and solidified within the burning column, and as the blaze dwindled away, the Phoenix Saint emerged, a fiery wraith, smoldering with vengeance and pain.

 

Shiryu and Seiya had witnessed Ikki's anger, but they had never before seen the Phoenix in such an uncontrollable rage.

 

“Where…is…Shun…” the incandescent boy growled hoarsely, his words punctuated by short, rasping breaths. His shoulders hunched up menacingly, like a feral dog backed into a corner. His eyes were terrifying and indistinguishable, unseeing slits of red madness.

 

Before an explanation could be offered, the Bronze Saint sent a spiraling plume of fire at Prometheus.

 

“Phoenix! No!” Athena called out, but the irrational boy was beyond hearing.

 

The Titan calmly turned his wrists outward, releasing thick metal chains the color of deep garnet. The heavy links swiftly unfurled, rattling sharply as they shot toward the Bronze Saint's oncoming inferno, snuffing it out as easily as the flame of a candle.

 

Mu saw his chance and moved toward Ikki like a flash of lightning. He wrapped his arms around the dark youth and teleported safely away. The Aries Saint had no way of knowing if the Phoenix could defeat Prometheus, and there were already far too many Saints missing or injured. He simply couldn't allow the boy to risk his life until they found out more about the Titan god.

 

Seiya watched helplessly as Mu and Ikki faded from sight, along with his hopes of confronting Prometheus. As quickly as it had started, the calamitous visitation was over. An abrupt calm settled over them all. The fearsome, beautiful god withdrew his chains gradually then turned his back on the remaining group. Without further utterance, the Titan moved away from the graveled driveway and strode deliberately through the snow-laden estate grounds. As though attached by an unseen lead, Shiryu and Athena began to follow obediently, but the goddess suddenly paused, returning to face Seiya. The undisguised affection and tenderness that radiated from her pale lilac eyes spoke more to the boy than mere words ever could. She briefly laid a compassionate hand on his shoulder then rejoined the Titan's march away from the mansion. His confidence obliterated, Seiya turned his head away as the three receding silhouettes blurred into one, transforming into hundreds of thin flickering black streaks that dissolved one by one until the last stroke disappeared completely.

 

While supporting Seika's shoulders with one arm, he slid the other beneath the knees of the prone girl and rose unsteadily to his feet. He held his sister gently against his chest and carried her toward the disfigured mansion, tormented by the impulse to follow Prometheus. Though Shiryu had no way of knowing, the question he asked Seiya only a day ago had been answered. The Pegasus Saint was finally reunited with his sister, but he could never abandon Athena or his brothers. As he carefully picked his way through the mosaic of broken glass, the sound of soft footsteps approaching from behind startled him.

 

“Kiki? I thought you left with Mu.”

 

“He felt it would be best if I stayed here,” Kiki replied as he walked alongside the Bronze Saint.

 

Seiya nodded slowly in acknowledgment, but was so preoccupied by the unconscious girl in his arms that Kiki doubted he heard his answer at all.

 

“Seiya, why did Shiryu leave?”

 

“Well, as a Saint, it was his duty to go,” Seiya explained. It was a difficult truth to accept.

 

“Will we ever see him again?” Kiki asked fearfully, clasping his fingers at the back of head and nervously rubbing his hands over his wildfire bramble of hair.

 

“Of course, Kiki! He's with Athena. Everything will be just fine. Shiryu will be back before you know it!” He glanced down at the child and forced a smile, trying desperately to mirror Shiryu's indomitable spirit. “Now then, would you do me an enormous favor?”

 

“Sure! Anything, Seiya!” Kiki announced, happy to be of use to the Pegasus Saint.

 

Though somewhat envious of the boy's innocent certainty of faith and hope, Seiya found an undeniable comfort in it as well.

 

“I've got to get Seika inside, so would you please find Tatsumi and make sure he's okay? There may also be others in the house who were hurt in the…um…accident.”

 

“No problem, Seiya! I think Tatsumi ran off in this direction…” Kiki called over his shoulder as he bounded toward the night shadows cast at the side of the mansion.

 

As Seiya neared the front steps, Seika's eyelids fluttered and opened. “Seiya…is it really you?” she breathed, gazing warmly at him with loving recognition. She reached up and brushed her fingertips gently across his cheek then slipped back into unconsciousness.

 

Conflicting emotions besieged Seiya, weighing down on him like a millstone around his neck. He wept with joy at the cherished smile he had locked in his heart since his abduction from the orphanage and wondered if he would ever have the courage to tell Seika that it was only the memory of her that sustained him through all he had suffered. But a burning hunger for revenge and the agony of cruel heartache pierced his elation. Prometheus had somehow awakened Cosmo within Seika, and for that the Pegasus Saint would never forgive the Titan god. Seiya paused at the doorway and lifted his eyes heavenward. The pinpoints of starlight and pale sliver of moon he sought were obscured by a dense layer of somber gray clouds and fat tranquil snowflakes that drifted down like heavy white ash. “Please, Shiryu,” he whispered hoarsely. “Come back to me…”

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Shun could not determine how long he had been trapped in the void, naked, his senses starved. Though he was acutely aware of his own shallow breathing and the dull pounding of his heart, an eternal emptiness permeated his entire being.

 

Ikki…

 

He wanted to be strong, and tried to straighten his fetal-curled body, but his limbs would not obey. A hazy scene played over and over in his mind. His nii-san had struck him for some reason, but it was an accident…it had to be. The unceasing sensory deprivation and ponderous drumming in his chest began to drive him mad, and he withdrew to a place of safety, somewhere deep in the labyrinth of his mind. A sudden warm sensation spilled down his inner thighs and pooled beneath his buttocks. A forgotten memory of shame propelled him to the distant past where he grabbed a tattered old brown teddy bear and tiptoed past the dozens of sleeping children to Ikki's bedside, trembling and sniffling, his enormous blue eyes spilling over with hot tears.

 

“Shun? What is it?”

 

“I'm scared…”

 

“My poor Shun! Want to sleep with me?”

 

The boy nodded and quickly clambered under the warm blanket, snuggling happily against his older brother. Ikki knew it wasn't only fear that brought Shun to his side. The child had soiled his bed again. He prayed nightly his sibling would soon outgrow the problem, but until then, he would rise the next morning before anyone else in the dormitory and remove the urine-soaked bedding, as he had done innumerable times since arriving at the strange mansion. Ikki would make sure no one would ever discover Shun's disgraceful secret. He wrapped his arms protectively around his brother, his life, and tenderly kissed the top of his head. Shun felt safe, and there he remained as his mind sank deeper into the dark abyss that entombed him.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Hyoga could not pinpoint exactly what had drawn him to the U.S. seaboard city of Miami, Florida. He only knew that he needed a radical change from everything that was familiar to him. Six months had passed since his arrival in colorful metropolis, but the longed-for escape from his memories was not so easily accomplished. As he prowled the city with a machine heart, bitterness fed on him like a vampire, slowly draining him of all emotions, and day by day, thoughts of his former life began to drift further away from his memories. Simple existence became his only objective. On the streets, honor and equity were non-existent. To him, the world consisted of only two sides…those who had died, and those who were waiting to die.

 

Hungry and tired, Hyoga scuffed along a busy downtown sidewalk in the stifling noonday heat, pausing at a storefront window, suddenly troubled by his reflection. He had lost considerable weight, and dark circles smudged his eyes, making them appear bruised. Though not unclean, his once enviable yellow mane was a disheveled, tangled mess. He scarcely recognized the face staring back at him, and ruefully wondered if it was the loss of his Cosmo that had created the stranger in the glass, or the recent awakening of his darker appetites. He shoved his hands deep into the empty pockets of his worn, tattered blue jeans and turned away from the window, returning to the bustling current of apathetic pedestrians.

 

As he continued his long trek toward the inhospitable marrow of the city and the isolated abandoned warehouse that served as his most recent temporary haven, Hyoga's thoughts slipped back to the genesis of his spiraling disintegration. It began soon after the birth of the designer drug he created from the supplies he had stolen from the Kido lab. With his knowledge of chemical compounds, it was surprisingly simple to concoct the highly addictive substance. Unconcerned by any possible harmful side effects, he christened the euphoria-inducing powder Diamond Dust and sold it on darkened street corners to all who asked. Its immediate popularity caused an unwelcome stir among the local crime lords, and though Hyoga produced and sold only enough to cover the expenses of his daily needs, he was pulling customers away from syndicate dealers. The components necessary to formulate the drug were rare, expensive and unobtainable. When his cache finally ran out, so did the Diamond Dust and Hyoga's money. The former Saint soon became just another transient scavenger, a nameless object of scorn, ignored and despised.

 

Though he was no longer a competitor in the illicit drug trade, a bounty had been placed on him by several criminal organizations that wanted to reproduce and sell Diamond Dust, but he paid little mind to the threats. Hyoga knew his compound contained certain vital elements that simply could not be identified even under the most intense scientific analysis, which made the formula that was locked away in his head an extremely valuable commodity. He had done his utmost to maintain his anonymity, deliberately avoiding the mainstream population, leaving no trail that could be followed by those who wished to find him, but to the experienced pushers it was child's play to coax information out of opiate-addled junkies. It was only a matter of time before he was discovered. He would not attempt to take his own life again since it was apparent that the gods would not allow it, but should his days be shortened by another's hand, so be it.

 

Night had fallen, but the summer evenings in Miami could be as thick, hot and humid as the days. Hyoga slumbered fitfully on the cool concrete floor of the warehouse, his mind racing. He sighed and sat upright, listening intently. A few of his senses remained razor sharp, a lingering effect of his extinguished Cosmo. In the corners and around the walls, Hyoga could hear the scuttling of cockroaches and other insects…and the cacophonic arrival of unwelcome intruders. They laughed and shouted, pitching glass bottles through the few unbroken windowpanes. Hyoga wished they would leave, but he knew from their raucous approach that his wish would not be granted. Hyoga rose to his feet and began preparing himself for the inevitable meeting. He stretched and jogged in place briefly, then practiced several roundhouse kicks, trying to work the blood back into his stiff, achy muscles. There was one aspect of his Cosmo that he truly missed. It had always kept him ready for battle. Drowsy and desperate to find sleep, he almost considered avoiding the confrontation, but the trespassers had irritated him and he was in a foul mood. He scanned the cavernous space, noting the placement of various pieces of debris that could be used as weapons if necessary.

 

Ready to vent his frustrations, he moved quickly to the center of the vast floor as the sound of expletives and breaking glass neared. Since there was no electricity in the hollowed carcass of the building, the only source of light came from the lustrous moon glow that poured through the endless row of windows, illuminating the lone form of Hyoga in the black velvet darkness. Five young Hispanic males tumbled through the warehouse in a raucous group, suddenly pausing at the sight of the blonde boy like a pride of hungry lions spotting prey, momentarily spellbound by the spectral image of Hyoga. Finally, one of the dark youths found his voice.

 

“Oye! Quien es, esse?” he barked loudly.

 

Hyoga remained motionless, staring at them with cold detachment.

 

“Yo! Puta! Are you deaf? I'm talkin' to you, maricon!”

 

“I hear you very well, musor,” Hyoga answered calmly.

 

The thugs glanced at one another in confusion then laughed.

 

“Man, you talk fuckin' funny!”

 

“And he looks like a girl! Hey, what are you?”

 

The largest member of the gang stepped forward. He appeared to be older than Hyoga, but still a teenager. Even in the dim shadows, the Russian could clearly see his leering grin. “We've got orders to bring you in, but maybe we should have a little fun first. Since you're so pretty, maybe we'll give you a break,” he alluded. “If you suck my dick, we'll let you go.”

 

“Yeah, suck it! Suck it!” the others taunted, their howls echoing sharply off the gray walls.

 

The leader waited until the noise died down then scowled menacingly at the Russian boy. “Chupa mi pinga, usted puto,” he growled.

 

“Sovershennyj…” Hyoga snorted in disgust.

 

They gasped and shuffled backward as Hyoga suddenly leaped upward, somersaulted and landed a few steps in front of them. With leg raised, he instantly spun around, striking his heel solidly on the jaw of the nearest teen, sending blood and bits of broken teeth spraying across the gray cement floor. Before any of the others could react, Hyoga released a crippling flurry of elbows, fists, knees and feet on the stunned group. With blinding speed, he downed the gang one by one. A delicate sheen of perspiration coated Hyoga's skin as he surveyed the damage he had inflicted on the strangers, feeling oddly satisfied in the silent aftermath. As he turned away from the human wreckage that littered the warehouse and moved toward the doorway, sudden black pain exploded against the back of his skull, sending him face-first to the cement, unconscious.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

“So, this is our elusive little chemist,” the statuesque caramel-skinned man spoke, motioning toward the blonde boy lying dormant on the floor of the exclusive high-rise suite.

 

The leader of the Cuchillos gang nodded, swallowing nervously.

 

Hyoga began to stir, roused by the sound of the man's deep, seductive voice and the intense morning sunlight that flared through the massive tinted windows. It took him several moments to realize he had apparently been out cold for hours. He delicately fingered the tender, stinging lump that protruded from his scalp and opened his eyes. Gazing upward, he tried to focus on the vaguely familiar youth standing next to him.

 

“This one homeless child managed to beat all of you?” the strikingly handsome man continued, rising from behind his extravagant and imposing granite desk. “Then, Guerrero, can you explain why I need you or any of your pathetic cohorts?”

 

The gang leader opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came forth.

 

“You were instructed to bring him to me, but you decided to play games instead. If I hadn't sent Victor as a backup, you would have lost the quarry.” The man beckoned for the massive, well-groomed bodyguard to approach. The color drained from Guerrero's face as the bald colossus advanced and stood impassively behind him.

 

“You've proven your incompetence yet again…and for the last time.”

 

Suddenly, the guard raised his enormous fist and delivered a solid blow to the side of the gang leader's head. As Guerrero fell to the floor, motionless, the brutish Victor paused to straighten his suit and tie then immediately exited the office. The abrupt act of violence brought Hyoga instantly to his feet, obliterating the flexuous haze from his senses.

 

“Well, Mister...?” the darkly compelling man addressed the young Russian.

 

Hyoga quickly glanced around the lavishly decorated apartment for a possible escape route then warily locked eyes with his ruthless captor.

 

“Svatoy...Nicolai Svatoy,” the boy answered roughly, tasting blood in his mouth from a small cut on the inside of his lip. The lie came easily, but the expression on the man's face told Hyoga that he knew the name was false.

 

“I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Svatoy,” he smiled warmly, moving elegantly around to the front of his desk. His impenetrable amber eyes burrowed into Hyoga's as he reached a hand outward. “I'm Salvador Zane.”

 

The introduction was not necessary. Hyoga refused the offered handshake, scrutinizing the man closely. Expensively attired, pleasingly muscled and remarkably appealing, Zane seemed too young to be the most notorious and brutal crime lord the city had ever seen.

 

Zane tilted his head inquisitively and dropped his hand, more amused than annoyed by Hyoga's behavior.

 

“I'm sure you're aware very little occurs in Miami that I do not know about. You, however, are a mystery. You've accomplished much in only a few months, but it would seem you simply washed ashore like a piece of driftwood, or dropped out of the heavens.” He casually crossed his arms and leaned back, resting his firm buttocks against the edge of the desk. “You've even earned a nickname among your customers. They call you El Fantasma Ruso…The Russian Ghost. Rather simplistic, but not completely inaccurate. You managed to avoid my associates so effectively that I began to wonder if you actually did exist. Of course, you don't believe in ghosts, do you?”

 

The office door unexpectedly opened and the bodyguard entered. Hyoga noticed someone else trailing behind the lumbering ...and his heart stopped. A beautiful youth strode into the room, the thick rubber soles of his black leather boots echoing sharply off the polished marble floor. He was shirtless but wore a floor-length black trench coat that swirled dramatically behind him as he moved. His ears and nipples were pierced, and the strong midday sun streaming in through the row of high, narrow windows glinted off the small silver hoops adorning his body. Onyx-colored cargo pants hung dangerously low around his waist, exposing a few downy-soft pubic hairs. A length of heavy silver chain served as his belt, the ends dangling loosely against his thighs. Glossy black vinyl opera gloves covered his arms, which added a surreal yet oddly erotic quality to his appearance. The boy's entrancing blue eyes were impenetrable, and his short, green hair was styled in a wild, irregular thicket of jet-black spikes. Though the disguise was bewildering, Hyoga immediately recognized him.

 

“Shun…” he whispered. The sight of the Andromeda Saint so far from home, in the company of these violent strangers and so completely changed, was mind-boggling to Hyoga, but he could have never been prepared for the horror that was to follow.

 

“Ah, mi amado!” Zane announced brightly. “Will you take care of this trash for me?” He looked down at the still body of Guerrero and nudged him with the toe of his expensive leather shoe. Emotionlessly, Shun reached inside his coat and produced a large, menacing knife. As the gang leader stirred, moaning softly, Shun dropped to one knee and clamped a hand over the young man's mouth. Without a moment's hesitation, he plunged the shining weapon deep into the defenseless gang leader's back, viciously twisting the blade upward. Hyoga could hear the nauseatingly distinct sound of metal penetrating flesh and bone. Guerrero's eyes flew open and his body stiffened, rigid with sudden shock and pain. He struggled briefly, but Shun held him in an iron grip. Guerrero convulsed as blood gushed out of his nostrils and bubbled out grotesquely from between Shun's tightly closed fingers. Thick, dark crimson dripped down the Andromeda Saint's hand and onto the antique Persian rug that lay beneath his victim. As the young man's eyes rolled back and fluttered shut, Shun leaned his head in closer and breathed in deeply, as if trying to inhale the very essence of death. He held Guerrero in the intimate embrace a moment longer then removed the knife with a violent jerk. As the body slumped forward, a warm spout of life-fluid sluiced out of the ugly wound, splashing gruesomely across Shun's face. Guerrero's head lay against the floor, blood filling his slack mouth like rainwater pooling in the jaws of a hideous stone gargoyle. It spilled out slowly, obscuring the intricately detailed pattern of the rug in a widening black stain.

 

Hyoga wanted to look away…he tried to look away…but could not move his eyes from the horrifying scene. He was trapped in a paralyzing nightmare over which he had no control. Hyoga prayed that he was still half-dazed and hallucinating when he sensed a feeling of pleasure emanate from the Andromeda Saint during the brutal slaying. Shun had killed the youth with cold-blooded ease, and in a show of disrespect, wiped the frightening blade clean against Guerrero's shirt. As Shun stood up and slipped the monstrous dagger out of sight, the bodyguard moved in and quickly rolled up the corpse inside the rug then hoisted the ghastly bundle casually over his shoulder, exiting the office swiftly and efficiently, as if he had performed the sickening duty many times before.

 

With the glassy, detached gaze of a shark, Shun glanced briefly at Hyoga then turned his attention to Zane who continued to lean blithely against his desk. He moved eagerly toward the powerful man, wedging himself comfortably between the crime lord's elegantly long legs. Zane wrapped his arms around the boy, bending his head down to kiss Shun's pale neck. To Hyoga, the small display of affection was as disturbing as the unconscionable murder he had witnessed. His mind screamed over and over “This is not Shun! This is not Shun!” but his heart knew it could be no one else.

 

“Mr. Svatoy, this is my paramour, Quinton Sinclair.”

 

“Quin,” the boy corrected indignantly.

 

Zane seemed somewhat astonished by the comment, but continued speaking as though Shun was nothing more than an object. “Lovely, isn't he?”

 

Hyoga's jaw muscles clenched tautly as Zane's fingers possessively gripped the back of Shun's neck.

 

As Zane returned to his seat behind the massive desk, Shun silently followed him like a bored, spoiled pet, perching lazily on the sturdy arm of the throne-like chair. Already fatigued and queasy from his deteriorated condition and the injury to his head, Hyoga tried to remain unaffected by Shun's presence. He hoped Zane would not notice the microscopic glimmer of sorrow in the Russian's eye whenever he looked at the boy, but the man was uncannily observant. Zane casually but purposefully reached over, pulled down the front zipper of Shun's pants, inserted his hand and began manipulating the boy to arousal. Shun closed his eyes as obvious pleasure washed over his face. He purred and turned his body so that Zane could more easily gain access to him, unconcerned that the dumbstruck Hyoga and Zane's stoic bodyguard were witnessing the voyeuristic act. As Shun moaned and bucked his slim hips to Zane's rhythmic stroking, Hyoga was consumed by an overwhelming urge to leap across the room and pummel Zane into an unrecognizable pile of carrion. The sound of tendons popping into tight bands was clearly audible as the Russian tightened his hands into steel fists. He wanted to scream...to bury his head in his hands...to run from the room...anything to block out the repulsive scene. Though enraptured by Zane's touch, Shun threw occasional arrogant glances at Hyoga, devouring him with half-open, lust-filled eyes. Repelled by the young Saint's complete lack of dignity or shame, Hyoga felt his cheeks burn with color. He shifted his gaze to Zane, focusing pure hatred on the man while trying desperately to ignore the writhing boy. The cruel man studied Hyoga with cold intensity, like a snake watching a mouse just before striking. The unholy spectacle seemed to go on forever, and Hyoga knew he would not be able to control his rage for much longer. In an attempt to regain his composure, he bit down painfully on the tender inside of his mouth, swallowing at the taste of his own blood. Suddenly, Shun's body stiffened and he threw his head back, emitting a sharp gasp. Hyoga could not bear it, closing his eyes to the sight of Shun climaxing in Zane's hand. The man chuckled at Hyoga's noticeable distress as he refastened the boy's pants and began slowly licking the salty-sweet cream from his fingers. Slightly out of breath, his cheeks blushed bright pink, Shun returned to his position seated on the arm of the chair as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

 

Though Zane had finished devouring the remnants of the boy's seminal fluid, Hyoga could still detect Shun's unmistakable scent, and it was at that precise moment he realized no matter what the boy had done or whom he was with, Shun would always belong to him. He knew beyond any doubt his love for the Andromeda Saint was as infinite as the spaces between the stars. He inhaled deeply, covetously filling his senses with Shun's intoxicating carnal fragrance, but his rapture was broken by Zane's intrusive yet alluring voice.

 

“Despite what you may believe, I'm a fair man,” he began. “Obviously I could utilize some rather unpleasant and barbaric methods to obtain the secret of your Diamond Dust, but I'm quite sure you'd die before revealing the information I require. However, I see no reason why our association can't be mutually beneficial. You present yourself as a person who has nothing to live for, but I'm willing to bet there's at least one reason why you continue to struggle for survival day after day. Whatever that reason may be is none of my concern. I'm simply offering you a straightforward contract. I'll provide everything you need to create Diamond Dust for my exclusive distribution, and in return you'll be generously rewarded. Should you accept, I will, of course, own you. But as my property, you'll be treated like a king wherever you go, and you'll have access to everything else I own…homes, cars, boats, private jets…whatever you desire.” Zane paused and reached over, pulling Shun's hand into his. “Within reason,” he warned. “You're free to decline my offer, but then I would be forced to put a bullet in your brain.”

 

Hyoga glanced at Shun who had once again retreated into disinterest. Though he ached to spit in Zane's face, grab Shun and flee to the most remote corner of the planet, he grudgingly assented. “I accept,” he growled.

 

“Splendid!” Zane smile broadly. “Well, I'm sure you'd like to freshen up, and it does appear you're in desperate need of a new wardrobe. Victor, would you please look after the lad? Tonight we celebrate!”

 

As Hyoga wearily followed the giant out of the office, a renewed purpose burned within the Russian boy. He had to find a way to remove Shun from the clutches of Salvador Zane, but without his Cygnus Cloth or his Cosmo, it might prove to be the most dangerous challenge he ever faced.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

To be continued…