Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Through The Glass ❯ Viosions Through the Glass ( Chapter 8 )

*Gomen, minna-san! Things have been hectic these past tow months. I've had college issues, exams, Aps/Finals to study for, Graduation stuff to sort out, and then a death in the family. So if things aren't up to par and a bit late, you know why now. Drop me a line about what you think; this is, as you'll see, where the title of the fic came from, and I want to know what y'all think. A couple of quick notes, I had one chapter that was about 6 times as large as this, so I broke it into three chs, instead of this being the last one. I'm hoping the other two will be typed asap, but there may be delays, I just don't know. Then, I'll have some author's notes as well as an epilogue/ sneak preview for the continuation of this story, "Reflections on the Heart" I think I've babbled enough, so I'll let you read in peace. Enjoy!! SLS 5-30*

Visions Through The Glass

Marrianna looked up as her four year old daughter ran into the kitchen, bare foot and panting as though she'd come from a distance. The child tugged at her skirts as she kneaded the bread, eyes wide and attentive. She tried pulling her mother away from the dough, pointing while tugging harder on her mother's dress. Marrianna sighed, not looking down, and continued her work. "What is it, Kara? Mommy's busy right now." The child frowned, pulling harder and shaking her head.

"A ghost, Momma! A real live ghost!!" Marrianna frowned, stopping and looking sternly at the child who continued to pull her towards the door.

"Hush now!! I won't have any of that in my house, young lady! There isn't such a thing as ghosts, haven't Papa and I told you so before?" Kara refused to listen though, and began to whine.

"But Mama!! He came from nowhere! He's all bloody, jus' like when he died!! He's scary!! Momma!!"

"Kara! I told you, there's no such thing. It's probably your older brother, you know Thomas likes to scare you." The young girl shook her head fiercely, pigtails slapping against her back.

"I saw him!! He was a whiten'palen'sadn'a really really really really tall ghost! He took Pa's shirt!!" Marrianna laughed, wiping her hands on a towel and setting the dough aside. She took Kara's hand, telling her to lead her to this 'ghost' that was tall, bloody, white, pale, and sad. Her daughter seemed relieved as she guided her mother towards the clothesline, tugging harder and yet drawing back as they approached. Marriannna had put the laundry out that morning so that it would dry by the noon glare, and she wasn't about to have some tramp stealing one of her husband's shirts. As they neared the line, Marrianna could see that sure enough, someone was pulling on one of her husband's shirts, pants and shoes for the finishing touches nearby. She pushed Kara to the side and grabbed a log from the firewood pile to use a s a club. As he pulled the shirt over his head, the boy turned, as though he'd sensed their arrival.

"You there!! What do you think you're-?" She dropped the wood, backing away. Red eyes watched her retreat, dead in their hollows and full of bitter sadness. Blood was caked around his crown, as though he'd hit his head long ago, and a scar stood prominent on his pale facade, the mark of a warrior long ago. Standing there silently, Marrianna was more obliged to believe that the thin figure was indeed a restless spirit, and felt even more inclined to allow him to keep the shirt.

"A demon.." She whispered, then ran to get her daughter out of harms way. 'Let the demon have the clothes,' she thought. 'May he find peace somewhere out there, and may he not mark our house with a curse.'

Allen bit his lip, scanning the horizon for any trace of Dilandau or the horse he'd stolen. Allen had gotten the Crusade's men ready in record time- partially due to the fact that they'd been awoken by the commotion of Dilandau's struggle with the sorcerers. He'd left Gaddes to clean up what remained of Rusent's assistants in the spare room, and keep what order could be maintained in this moment of crisis over the estate. Van and Hitomi rode in Escaflowne, scanning the ground closer to the trees, and using the pendant to search in the general direction the boy had run. Allen feared the boy might come to harm, and then where would he be? All he had left of Celena was that demon, and Dilandau had run off, blindly fleeing from the memories of pain and fear. When he found him, would he strike him? Would he try to kill him, blame him for stealing his little sister from him again? Would he embrace him and call him brother, forsaking Celena forever? Allen's cerulean eyes flickered over to the sorcerer, who stood motionless with eyes closed in concentration- a spell of some sort, or so he expected. The sorcerer had seemed to have anticipated an action of this sort occurring, because it had taken him less than five minutes to gather all he needed for the spell that would hopefully rescue Celena from her peril. Allen frowned, noting for the second time that the sorcerer had only brought a tall object covered in cloth along. For a spell that was supposed to be difficult, he had thought Rusent would need more tools and potions to make the magic work. He didn't understand everything that had happened, but he'd thought that there would have to be something intricate and complex to undo what had taken months to create and years to perfect. If you could consider Dilandau perfect. Whatever it was, it would have to be able to bring back his little sister, or there'd be hell to pay.

Escaflowne flew past them suddenly, and over the communication system, Van's voice crackled with urgency.

"Allen! We've found him!! Head for the field over there- to the left a little. He's collapsed near the dry streambed. Don't worry, Hitomi's with him now. Quickly, follow me!" The dragon flew back to where the field he'd indicated was, but it was really no more than a dry patch of land, dust swirling about as the ship lowered itself to the ground. The vegetation was dry and shriveled- it had died during a drought, and had not yet recovered any life. There, curled up on the ground, laid Dilandau, face hidden in his arms and knees tucked under them. He'd found a shirt somewhere along the way, but he'd managed to lose the horse in turn. Nothing about the figure on the ground resembled the bane of Van's existence two years ago. He was nothing but an empty shell of one who had been great, but had fallen from fame, and the landing had been hard. Hitomi sat next to him, not sure of what to do. She looked relieved when she saw Van racing towards her, and moreso when she saw the Crusade descending. Allen jumped out of the ship before it had touched the ground, and the sorcerer was close behind, hauling his object with slight difficulty. Rusent set the thing leaning up against to a rock, then walked over to Dilandau's still form, opening a flask from within the dark recesses of his cloak. Propping Dilandau's head up with his knee, the sorcerer poured some of the liquid down the pale boy's mouth in the hopes of reviving him. The figure coughed and shook himself out of his daze, unfolding and sitting up blearily. He saw the sorcerer and the edge of his lip curled in a growl of hatred and disgust, then he turned and saw Allen, his face clouding over.

"I.... I couldn't save her..... Allen.... She's .....she's gone! She was such a fool, I was ready to die but she threw herself in the way and-" he cut himself off, biting his lip and looking down in shame. "And she died for me. For me. And all I could think about was leaving her far behind when I was free; forgetting her and taking a new identity to live a life in peace. But she sacrificed herself for me and- .... and I promised to protect her. I failed, Allen, I.... I'm sorry. It was my fault." The sorcerer spoke softly, almost cooing to the boy who sat in such misery and defeat below him.

"Dilandau... You can still save her, you know. Only you can help her now." Red eyes looked up, startled and anxious. Dilandau licked his dry lips, sitting a little straighter and showing his old confidence again.

"Well?" He asked in a waspish tone. "What do I do? Don't waste time, you pathetic creature. Tell me what I must do NOW." Rusent looked at him blankly for a moment, as if refusing to tell him because of the insult. But Allen, as much as he dislike the boy, had to agree with Dilandau.

"Rusent! We're wasting valuable time, sitting here like this! You said that time was of the essence, so tell us what needs to be done." The sorcerer's lip almost curled into a sneer at that- almost- but he regained his composure, and stood, returning to the rock where he had deposited his item for the spell. Dilandau stood, brushing off the three who were sitting near him, and moved away from them, not trusting anyone. Allen looked at him closely, trying to read the emotions that flitted across the dirt streaked face. Hatred, disgust, impatience, fear. Once again, Allen's mind whirred, wondering what it was that could strike such mortal fear into someone like Dilandau, especially when he had been created to fear nothing, and for the fact that the sorcerer looked harmless enough. All thoughts disappeared from his mind when the sorcerer removed the heavy cloth from the object- all save one, which he was about to voice when Dilandau did so with a more vivid word choice.

"What the fuck? How the hell is THAT going to get her back?" Rusent stood motionless beside the long, full-length mirror that was still propped up against the rock. Although it had the modern and rigid lines of something made by Zaibach, the frame was chipped, the glass scratched in places, and in overall disrepair. Allen stood as well, staring in disbelief. That was what the sorcerer had brought. A mirror?? That was going to save his sister? He could almost feel the anger that Dilandau had always shown towards any related to the sorcerers. How dare they mock him? Mock his pain, his loss, his suffering, his aloneness with this farce before them?? Allen reached to draw his sword, but stopped, seeing Dilandau's face. The hatred had dissolved, the fear forgotten for the moment. A look of awe and- was that relief?- shone through the ex-general's countenance. Dilandau's curses died away as he approached the mirror, dropping the dagger he must have pulled from a hiding place to end his ordeal with the sorcerer. Rusent, aware of Dilandau's attention being elsewhere, was not feeling suicidal, and he backed away from the antique glass, eyes never leaving Dilandau. Even as he watched the boy, Allen felt tears prick his eyes- he didn't know if they were tears of sadness or relief- but he paid them no mind. All he could do was watch the young man approaching the mirror, and wonder at what he beheld.

Even as Dilandau stepped closer to the mirror, her form became sharper, taking the same shaky strides towards the reflection. She smiled softly even as he looked on, bewildered and at once at a loss for words. Celena looked over her shoulder, where Dilandau could see the sorcerer's reflected image wavering in the distance. As if on cue, Rusent spoke softly, returning his voice to the gentle and innocent tone from earlier.

"Only you can do this, Dilandau. You must save her, and then you will reunited with your slayers. You will never be alone again." He could see Celena cursing the sorcerer for exploiting his weakness, but Dilandau paid her no mind. Closing his eyes briefly, his thoughts returned to the days of his military days, the times he'd spent with the others to hone their skills, the times he'd relied on them and times they're relied on him. To return to days where he could be with them again.... To not have any worries, to be free of the war and have the time to practice at leisure with his men....His thoughts suddenly spun out of his control, reassembling to the dream state where he'd first begun to get to know his other half.

We're not alone if we're together, right?

He opened his eyes again, to see her expression pained. She glanced at the sorcerer again, then turned back to him, her eyes urgent.

*I don't trust him* she mouthed in what would have been a whisper if he could've heard her. Giving her a smirk, he shook his head, mouthing his own reply.

*Neither do I. Want me to show the sorcerer what a very pissed off General of the Dragonslayers can do?* She smiled then, laughing as though they hadn't a care in the world. He brought his hand to the glassy surface, feeling a cool resistance instead of the warm and soft palm of the woman he saw in front of him. She shared his smirk, and he felt as though he could almost feel her again; back there, just out of reach, safe in the dark recesses of their shared thoughts. He thought he could almost hear an echo of her thoughts ring softly through his mind, though he couldn't be sure if it was because it had something to do with their 'contact', or because he wished he could hear her voice again.

*The Goddess can help us... You have to trust her, Dilandau...*

He raised an eyebrow at this, and turned abruptly to his side, realizing he'd been approached while he'd been concentrating on Celena. Hitomi gave him a quiet smile, took his hand, and whispered something in his ear. His blank look grew into another smirk, which fell into a devilish grin. Celena cocked her head in confusion, though he knew she'd figure it out in a few moments. Giving the young Mystic Moon girl a nod in thanks, he looked behind him to see the sorcerer, still standing where he'd retreated earlier, and still watching him closely. He assumed his frown, and his brow furrowed more even as he snapped to the man,

"Well?? What are you doing, just standing there? What do I have to do, sorcerer? Fix your pathetic mistake, and get it over with." Celena's eyes opened wider, as though just realizing that he was going to go through with it and sacrifice himself for her. She shook her head fervently, but he ignored, intent upon the sorcerer's instructions.

"Place both hands on the mirror. Stand straight, don't break contact at any point while I start the spell." Dilandau nodded curtly, then turned back to look Celena in the eye. He couldn't tell what emotion clouded her eyes, but he kept his lips in a tight line and hoped his own face was blank of emotions. The sorcerer began his chanting, and the places where his flesh met the glass begun to hum and grow warmer. He looked at Allen, standing next to the girl, and then looked at Van, thoughts of finishing his hunt for the king's blood before he disappeared for good crossing his mind. He batted them away, and returned his gaze to Celena. The sorcerer looked up, stopping his murmur, and spoke in a low voice.

"Now, all you have to do is walk through the glass, and you will switch places with the lady Celena. Do this Dilandau, if not to save her but because you know it is right. Allow Celena the life she deserves."

"What, being the pathetic play-thing of some stuck up noble who only wants her for money and an heir? Allen, I swear, if you make her do anything like that I will personally summon all the forces of the fallen Zaibach and we'll haunt you til the end of your days." Allen blanched, but nodded, showing he understood. Hitomi looked puzzled, Van looked somewhat amazed that Dilandau was about to perform a selfless act, and the Sorcerer remained blank. Dilandau couldn't see far enough to judge the looks on the few crew members of the Crusade who had braved coming out, but he guessed that they were happy to see him go. Dilandau turned back to Celena for the last time, giving her a smile. She stared back, then closed her eyes, as though she refused to say goodbye.

Fine. If you're going to be that way.... He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began to push forward, his hands going through the glass and beginning to lose feeling as he crossed the barrier. But, he noticed that he could feel Celena, despite the overall numbness of his arms. He opened his eyes to see Celena's eyes brimming with tears. The sorcerer had resumed his chant, but with more fervor and a more intensive rhythm to it. Dilandau stopped suddenly, resuming his self-assured grin of olden times. Celena watched him, motionless as well. The sorcerer still chanted, though he watched the two with a furrowed brow. Allen stepped forward uncertainly.

"Diland-"

"You know, I never could stand heroics. In fact-" With this, he grabbed onto Celena's wrists , even as she did the same to him, a new emotion brewing in her eyes.

"I HATE THEM!" With that last word, he pulled, and there was a sudden lurching, a scream, and the sound of shattering glass. Dust formed a thick cloud in the air where the boy and the mirror had been, and it was several minutes before any of them could see the area. The mirror lay in shards on the ground, millions of pieces glittering like water on the barren ground. Beside the broken frame lay a body- the body of a boy in his late teens, early twenties. The body of Dilandau. Allen ran forward, shouting out in fury and despair.

"NO!!! Dilandau!! Celena? CELENA!! Dilandau, I'll kill you with my own bare hands, I swear to-"

'...Brother?" Allen stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the spot where Dilandau lay. The boy twitched, the sat up, revealing another body beneath him- the body of a young woman, also in her late teens, early twenties. His sister. Celena. She peered over Dilandau's shoulder at him. "Allen, I-"

"Celena, hold on a minute, don't get up yet- here, take my shirt.." She noticed her surroundings and appearance for the first time, and gratefully took Dilandau's shirt, which covered her for the most part. She stood shakily, even as Dilandau laid back, trying to rest. His body ached, screaming for sleep and the sweet darkness it brought. Before he gave in, he handed Celena the thing in his hand, then fell to the ground in exhaustion. She smiled down at him, then wobbled for a moment before meeting her brother and accepting his overcoat. She grinned at the young girl standing across from her, handing her the necklace.

"Thank you. I was afraid for a moment that he wasn't going to go through with it. We are in your debt, Lady Hitomi of the Mystic Moon. I thank you for all you've done." She sighed, then slumped forward into her brother's arms, joining Dilandau in his quest for peace.

The sorcerer watched, unmoving, his smile unwavering.