"Noooo!" Amy screamed, her voice cracking against the roar of the wind.
She ran for the cliff, feet slipping against the wet stone. Serif was already there, his chain whirring as it reeled back.
Amy slowed, her breath hitching. Step after step felt heavier, as though gravity itself had turned cruel. She stared at the chain, waiting for it to bring something—a hand, a piece of cloth, anything.
But it didn't.
When it finally snapped back, she collapsed to her knees. A choked sound escaped her throat as she buried her face in her sleeve.
"I couldn't do anything… again," she whispered, the words trembling. "Just like back then."
Tears rolled freely.
The sound of her sobs mixed with the groans of the injured guards sprawled across the ground.
"Why…" she muttered, glaring at them through watery eyes.
Ursa's shadow fell over the guards before his voice did.
"What have you done," his voice came, controlled, tight, like a volcano ready to erupt.
The air thickened. The ground itself seemed to hum with pressure. The guards' faces pressed deeper into the floor, muscles locking, blood trickling from noses and ears as the invisible weight grew heavier.
"Do you realize what you've done?" Ursa's voice thundered, reverberating through the ruins. Bones cracked. One guard whimpered.
"You'll kill them, Father," Dezon said, placing a hand on Ursa's shoulder. "They're no use to us dead."
Ursa's eyes flicked to his son, then back to the guards. The pressure eased, barely, enough to keep them breathing but without a chance of escape. The men gasped for breath like drowning victims dragged onto shore.
Amy glared at the guards, then at Ursa, this was all his fault, it always is, just like with her brother, their stupid customs.
"This…" she began, voice shaking, but a strong hand clamped over her mouth.
Serif's arm tightened around her.
"Enough," he whispered, dragging her back.
She kicked and twisted, but his grip only tightened. Her vision began to blur.
Her gaze locked with Ursa for a moment, then he looked away.
You bastard, you can't even look at me, she thought bitterly, the world tilting as blackness consumed her.
Ursa looked towards the cliff, he calmly walked towards it, stopping at the edge.
The dark purple miasma below, staring back at him.
The boy would be dead by now, there was no way he could survive that fall, the miasma below wouldn't even allow him to reach below, not even he could escape from it, he sighed, the sound weary and almost…regretful.
"Dezon," Ursa called.
"Yes Father," Dezon answered behind him.
"Make sure this doesn't get out," Ursa said, "I can't risk panic due to the loss of Gishiki, at least not now," he took a deep weary breath.
He looked towards the guards now tightly secured in glowing metallic cuffs, "and make sure anything you find out, report directly to me, use any method you deem fit, make them talk."
Dezon bowed and headed down the stairs, toward the forest, the cuffed men stumbling after him.
As for the Gishiki, Ursa looked down again into the abyss, the darkness swallowing light. The boy would be dead but the Gishiki is still down there, it had to be retrieved, "And Dezon, assemble a team to retrieve the Ginshiki," Ursa said calmly.
Dezon froze. "Father… surely you realize how futile that is." His voice was measured but tense.
"It's a suicide mission, you of all people know what's down there, even you wouldn't…" Ursa's glance silenced him mid-sentence.
"I did not ask for opinions," Ursa said with finality in his voice.
"Yes sir," Dezon muttered as he disappeared into the forest.
Ursa exhaled. "I trust you'll keep her quiet," he said without looking back.
Serif nodded, Amy unconscious over his shoulder.
"Good, we can't have any more chaos, not at this time."
Serif bowed slightly and turned to leave, but Ursa's voice stopped him once more.
"I want you to lead the retrieval team," Ursa said softly, glancing at him over his shoulder.
Serif bowed. "I'll be glad to fulfill my duty, sir."
Ursa scoffed. "Glad? Shouldn't you be relieved it's gone? You don't have to pretend."
No response. Serif's face stayed expressionless, posture bent in silent obedience.
Ursa studied him for a long moment. "Just like a dog," he muttered, waving him off.
When they were gone, Ursa finally allowed his face to soften, the faintest flicker of worry showing through.
And that grandson of mine… still missing, things will be so much easier otherwise.
He looked up at the moon's ghostly blue glow, its light spilling over the ruins.
***
Red eyes flared in the dark.
They blinked—slowly, deliberately—hovering amid swirling color and chaos. Then came the explosion.
The world filled with the smell of burnt flesh and iron. Smoke clung to his tongue. He could taste the blood in the air, thick, coppery, real.
He tried to move, yet his body didn't agree. He couldn't get close to her, her blurry figure in front of him, just out of reach, unconscious.
Flames crackled near her body, her dress catching fire. She'd loved that dress. Mom had given it to her. Mom's going to kill me, he thought, then instantly hated himself for the thought.
He screamed inside his head, trying to reach her. But his voice was gone. His body wouldn't move. His throat only produced a faint, broken rasp.
I can't give up, he closed his eyes, jaws clenched, ready to give one last push.
But as he opened his eyes, he froze, breath caught in his chest, his gaze locked with eyes. Glowing red, staring back.
"Hello, Axel," came a voice like broken glass scraping against bone.
A pale hand reached for his face…
A sharp gasp tore out of Axel's throat as his eyes flew open. The nightmare broken.
He jolted up, trying to sit up but hissed as pain radiated from his shoulder, he fell back. "Easy now."
He winced, each breath scraped like sandpaper bringing in the thick smell of burnt metal and something else. He clutched his shoulder, the wound burned hot under his palm. He blinked until his vision stopped spinning, although his head still pulsed with a dull, molten throb.
"What happened," he mumbled, forcing himself to sit up, gritting his teeth through the stabbing ache that rolled through his chest.
Right. Last thing I remember I was falling down a cliff, and that wasn't a dream obviously, the pain was vivid enough to tell him it wasn't. I should be dead.
Where am I? He looked around in confusion.
The landscape stretched around him in jagged black rock, glimmering with rivers of glowing blue substance that pulsed like living veins. Heat radiated from it, the blue glow casting everything in an unholy shimmer.
He tilted his head up. The sky—or what passed for one, was a solid canopy of dark purple miasma. No stars. No moon. Just suffocating stillness, occasional blue streaks passing through it.
It's most likely I am down, below the floating islands, I knew I shouldn't have stayed so close to a cliff, but I couldn't have known a genius would throw his spear at me.
Dezon's smirk flashed before his eyes. I knew something was wrong, he was too nice.
But how am I even alive if that's the case, not to mention, he looked at his shoulder where the spear had pierced, it was cauterized, crude, ugly, but enough to prevent him from bleeding to death.
Did someone save him, if so who and why would they just leave him here.
But the biggest question was how he had managed to survive the fall.
Axel looked around scanning for signs of his mysterious savior.
But there was no sign of life, apart from his of course.
Except for the gishiki lying beside him, perfectly placed, its silver blade reflecting the blue glow of the environment.
He touched his chest, good, the thread of continuity was there, I have to find somewhere to recover.
In my experience, exposure like this wouldn't lead to anything good, referring back to anime of course.
He slowly got up, his body sore, multiple lacerations present on his hands up to his palms, also cauterized.
Leaning on Gishiki, he got a proper look around, there it is, Axel scowled.
Half-buried in the dirt nearby lay the spearhead that had nearly killed him, its shaft melted clean away.
"Well," he said, limping toward it, "guess we found the murder weapon. Souvenir, anyone?"
Looking up a cave was in front of him, the perfect sort of place to recover.
I need rest and recovery first, Axel thought as he started limping towards the cave, then he paused mid-step.
Two deep-blue orbs appeared in the darkness of the cave—hovering, unblinking, staring at him.