The Kethencian College of Magic RP (Part 3)

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

"So, what happened to it?" he asked, pensively.

Elizabeth broke into a cat smile. "A severance package, as it were. I told Grandfather that I was done with the life, and that it was long past time for my retirement. Well, he told me that that wasn't something he could allow right now. That I was his best agent. That my right arm was worth more than any other fear-mongering killer in his employ. So," she continued, flourishing the stump. "I told him, 'fine, it could do my work for me', and before he could stop me I'd taken a cleaver and chopped it off. It's probably in Atherion right now, strangling a man." Thunder cracked ominously, as if to exclamate this last point. Elizabeth looked very pleased with herself.

Billy looked back and forth uncertainly, mulling the story over in his head. "Where did you get a cleaver?" was what he finally said.

"Kitchen." she replied smoothly. "Grandfather met me in the kitchen."

"Why?"

"Nightcap."

An uncomfortable silence followed, punctuated only by the pouring rain and the distant crackle of thunder. Both Bishops mulled one another over. He had been told stories like this before.

"Your lying." Billy said, a blunt statement of fact that he wielded as a weapon. "What really happened?"

Elizabeths face fell, and for the first time in his life Billy could see that his mother was tired. "It's... just as well you don't know. My arm is definitely in Atherion strangling a man, and I am officially retired."

"You almost sound disappointed."

"Well darling, it was my dominant arm-"

"Not about that. About being retired."

She sat down on the couch, and sighed. "It's difficult Billy, for you to understand. You've never been outside the walls." she said sadly. "And it's a good thing to, because if they'd have caught you they'd have killed you."

"Because we kill them." Billy said, defiantly.

"Because they hate us." Elizabeth said, listlessly. "I think now you're old enough to grasp the absurd state of things. Because they hate us and would unite to break down our walls if they got up the nerve, people like me have to go out and kill anyone who starts talking up such ideas. To keep them afraid of us. And because we keep them afraid, everyone out there grows to hate us more and more. And the irony is, only those who carry out the killings realize this, because we go out and see the fear first hand. It's an snake eating it's own tail."

That bight, safe in bed behind the guarded walls, Billy had the first inklings that his home was doomed.

[Philote]

Zauber collapses in front of the bridge that would mark his failure of this trial. The last of his energy was spent, he could no longer bring his body to move. The idea that he would fail in such a miserable way was unthinkable, it dashed all hopes of him achieving his goals, protecting his friends.

He was not going to be the strongest, but maybe he was never supposed to be. Billy was a better leader, Eric was stronger, Asoka had more skill. Zauber had always tried to be the best, always tried to take on the challenges so that his friends might not have to, but there was no way for him to force fate, some things were simply out of his control. Why should he try to handle things on his own when he could do what was natural and lend his strength to his allies. He could act without acting, flow with the natural order, and overcome the pride that led him to fight against his own strengths.

Time passed as Zauber reexamined himself in his sleep, finding and understanding his flaws and coming to accept them. When he wakes, the bridge is gone and the exit to the maze lies before him.

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

Asoka sighed in relief. She'd finally managed to win all the games. It had taken awhile, but it had finally occurred to her what the Headmaster's words had meant. Part of it was that she'd needed to remember how to improvise and the other part was to remeber that she wasn't a regular soldier amongst those of her people. She was a noble of the Draconic Empire and it was time that she showed it.

Concentrating all her power in the area in front of her, Asoka formed, for the first time since she'd come to the college, her Soulsword. She smiles, grabs its hilt, and talks to it, saying, "I can't believe that I couldn't hear you before. Now... Eviscerate, Liliana!"

The Soulsword shatters into thousands of pieces, each turning into a lily's petal, simultaneously, the world around Asoka disappears, turning back into the Court, and she sees the girl from before grinning widely, "Congrats for getting out of the world I made with Kokoro, though you never did figure out that it was a world made with a Soulsword. You should probably put yours away too since this school isn't geared towards using them. I volunteered to help either way with this test."

Asoka stands still, too stunned to say anything.

[Philote]

Zauber awakes. The pressure of taking on the forces of the Red Eye lifted from his soul as he could not realize that no amount of training would allow him to face them completely alone. Instead, he could lean upon his companions and in turn, support them as they collectively protected the school.

Staggering up, Zauber finally moves through the exit, finishing the grueling training he had been put through. The chamber that he steps into is saturated with magic to the point that it literally seeps into Zauber's skin. The ambient energy revitalizes Zauber, but it does more than this, it begins to refill his depleted Core. Arcane energies build into varying types of Motes as Zauber's Core feeds upon wealth of power, stretching the limits of his capabilities.

Zauber sets down in the center of the chamber, letting the rush of magic refill and overtake him. He would rest in this room till he could no longer absorb the incoming mana and until the Headmaster calls him to mark the end of his preparations.

[Zaleramancer]

The chaos was unending.

An endless, sprawling abomination. Piles of junk towered all about, dust and bugs filled the air.

Tiberius moved through a dust cloud.

He had settled on a system of dividing by material type, then sub-dividing by function and then shape.

It had seemed an adequate method of organization. Clear, effective and methodical.

But..

It wasn't working.

The fine patterns of organized junk constantly vanished into the piles. The seemed to move and grow with time.

What seemed like days had passed.

Had the room been so vast when he entered it?

Wiping a veil of dust and dirt from his metallic hands, Tiberius moved to another junk pile.

He.. just had to keep trying. Right?

It would work out in the end.

It.. had.. to..

Right?

[Ericus Europaeus (Bug)]

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[Ericus Europaeus (Bug)]

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[Ericus Europaeus (Bug)]

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[Ericus Europaeus (Bug)]

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[Zaleramancer]

Failure was everywhere.

The chaos only continued to grow, creeping and crawling into the shining dregs of order.

No matter how quickly he moved, how practiced his motions were, they were never fast enough.

Always the piles of endless junk avalanches downwards.

It was everywhere.

Even he was loosing himself too it. Bits and pieces of himself were being.. corroded.. rusted.. faded..

Despair was creeping in with the rust.

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

Billy has been walking for what felt like weeks, down endless black hallways, following Hickory Nix. Occasionally, one of the many doors that lined them would open up and the occupants would stick their grey heads out in curiosity. Billy knew these rooms: The Black Parlors. Waiting rooms for the dead who did not wish to move forward. there were many reasons, hate, love, fear, that tied them to these rooms and the Lord entertained his guests for as long as they wished to remain.

Nix stopped at one such door. Billy and Gob stopped with him. He smiled a big, crooked smile. "We're heeeeeeeeeeeere!" Something in the old mans tone worried him, and Billy tried to say something. But then the door opened and a head poked out. It was an middle aged gentleman with chiseled features, a well groomed beard, hair that was going just slightly grey that gave it a touch of dignity, and the most piercing eyes billy had ever seen. He cleared his throat, and said, in a voice that sounded like he was straining to force the words out, said "Ah. Yes, sir knight? What may we do for yo-"

He stopped, his gaze falling on Billy. His eyes widened in shock, and he said, hesitantly. "You. Wh-who are you? Tell me your name."

Billy was confused, but bowed polity. "Bishop, oh hallowed one. Billy Bishop."

The man looked stunned. "Your mother?" He managed to choke out.

Billy looked at Nix, then back at the man. Billy's mother hadn't kept any of his fathers pictures around. She'd said that, sure enough, she'd meet him on the path. So there was no need. Billy stammered. "El-el-elizibeth, sir. My mother was Elizibeth Bshop."

The man smiled, a wide wild smile, and threw open the door. "Well, well, well." He said, striding out, and Billy's heart sank into the pit of his stomach. A little from the man's smile, which now looked like the grin of a predator that had cornered it's prey. A little from the hate filled glares of the dozens of people in the room, just now standing up and moving toward the door. But mostly because he recognized the arm hanging from the mans throat, delicate hand wrapped around his jugular in a vice grip.

Holy Ghosts, he though mother had been joking all these years.

The man stroad forward, Nix moving polity out of the way to let him pass. He was cracking his knuckles. " Yeah, I recognized you by your eyes. You have your moms eyes. We've been waiting a long time for that mother of yours, boy. I suppose you could keep us company, huh?"

"W-w-w-well as m-m-much as I would enjoy that I, uh, I'm really not in any position to, um, I mean, not to be rude or anything....." Billy stammered in reply.

Nix bent down like a snake and snatched Gob up, as the people spilled out of the room, filling the hallway from wall to wall. Billy was backing up. He had been for a while, but now he was going faster. Nix reached casually into his jacket and pulled out a single shot pistol. He loaded it with great care, pointed it into the air, and it spoke once with a resounding crack.

The grey tide surged forward.

Billy was already running.

Nix watched them go as Gob struggled in his grip, until it was just the two of them in the long black hallway. "Learn to hate them, or stop and take the guilt of your family onto your soul. One or the other Bishop boy, I don't much care which." He said to himself.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

The hall was eerily silent, though it was not empty. People shifted past Wulf left and right, like shades of the dead, each a strange mix of traumatized and apathetic. The shock of monsters had erased all emotion from the eyes of the people except the simple urge to survive, the simple need to not crack under pressure and have a nervous breakdown.

It made moving through them quite simple. And that was what Wulf was counting on, because the storm would not wait. Zeus, or Thor or Odin...his majesties were powerful, and worthy of the utmost honor, but they were also warriors. Warriors rarely stayed in the same place, when there was work to be done.

And there was, indeed, work to be done. The basics were moving too slow; the professors were almost condescending in how they provided lessons and posed problems to challenge Wulf's intellect. Where was the accuracy training? Where was the combat instruction? Where were the war games, and the weapons training? Surely, they didn't expect magic expertise to arise from doing a research on the mythical Thunderbird, and its cousin the Impundulu.

No, he decided, as he made is way down the hall, pass the mess, and around yet another corner, trying to look natural as possible, he would require instruction from watching the masters themselves.

He stopped, when he realized he'd come to the end of the carpet, and turned around. Busts on pedestals; portraits on walls; windows; curtains. No people. The air's electricity did not pulse with movement, and the only heartbeat he sensed was his own, somewhere in his throat. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and reached to open the doors...

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

Billy pumped his legs, chased through the halls of his gods by the ghosts of his mothers sins (Literally, being they were all the people she'd assassinated over the years) acutely aware that they had one massive advantage: they didn't need to stop and catch their breath.

He didn't know how long he'd been going (there was no point of reference in this place!!!), but even his stores were beginning to give out from the pursuit. He could turn and fight, he supposed, if he knew any combat spells. Not for the first time he kicked himself over never having went to Bones for lessons. Not that it would do him much good, but he'd much rather go down swinging and this group would never give him that opportunity.

The spider's running commentary was also doing nothing for his mood.

"So, which would you rather have?" the hateful little voice echoed in his mind, "Live burial or being strung up by your guts and beaten like a pinata?"

"What's a pinata!?" he squeaked.

"Okay, gonna assume live burial for that one. Now, being cannibalized or-"

"Shut up!" he yelped.

"Hey, don't waste your breath being all hypocritical. Aren't you the one that keeps asking people what to do with them when they die? Ain't that just as morbid?"

"Then what would you like me to do with you? Because you'll be stuck here, in the hallway, forever if they catch me. If they don't break you. You're just a spirit yourself right now, how do you think that would feel?"

The Spider says nothing, clamped to his wrist, just hanging for a while. Then, finally:

"Alright brat, let me see what I can do in here."

Billy feels a sharp pain as the spirit of the spider, for the first time, connects with his mana pool. It feels intimate, but wrong. Less like a partnership, more like an invasion. Like it was setting up shop on his heart, wrapping long cold webs around it, and settling down to eat.

"Damn if  that Nix guy wasn't right. You're all tangled up kid. You should learn to relax a little bit. Get a hobby that doesn't involve dead people."

"Can you just-"

"Point me at em.'"

Billy whirled around. The mob began gaining, but the spider bubbled black, mana falling off of it in this globs. The wooden toy seemed to flex, then something shot out of it's mouth. Long black string, thin as hair, soared through the hallway. Billy's arm seemed to move on it's own, weaving back and forth in front of him in complex patterns. The string not not hit the ghosts, but attached to the walls in front of them. With the quick, precise movements a net, a web, made entirely of Billy's own dark mana hung between him and the mob.

The man with the arm around his neck stopped just in the nick of time, but other spirits were not so sharp. Three, four, ran headlong into the web, passed through it halfway, and were stopped dead. They pulled and struggled as the mob caught up and surveyed the obstruction, but the more they struggled the less they seemed able to do so. They cursed and strained, but still could not break free.

Across the divide, the Arm Man looked at Billy with cold, stoic eyes. Then, silently, he walked to one of the doors in the hallway. He knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.  The door was opened, and there was a hushed conversation. The the Arm Man stepped into the Black Parlor, his group following him. Each one stared at Billy until they were no longer in sight. Then the door closed, and Billy was alone in the hallway. Save for the struggling spirits.

He collapsed onto his knees ans just sucked in oxygen, taking it in deep gulps. "I'll give you credit spider, that's impressive." he said meekly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Listen, where did they all go?"

"Through the door?" Billy said absentmindedly.

"Yeah, I saw that. Now stay with me here, I know you aren't the brightest torch in the room, but it's really important for my future that you keep up. Why they go in that door?"

"uh," Billy was still just trying to get his wind back.

"Follow along, boyo. Why'd they go in that room. Could it be because these Black Parlor things have more than one exit?"

Billy slowly raised his head. He let his eyes wander to the door beside him.

He shot to his feet and threw himself against the opposite door, pounding and pounding because his life literally depended on it. He would never lose them in the hallways, so maybe if.

The door swung open and Billy got his second biggest surprise that day.

"Yes? Is there something we can do for you?" asked Sarah.

[Zaleramancer]

Springs and rusty bolts and old boxes slid down piles of junk.

Smells of decay and dilapidated clothing twisted through the air.

In the midst of this rusty spreading swath lies a corroded automaton.

This was the end of chaos. The coming of death.

Ruination of everything.

Hopelessness had long since sapped the strength from his limbs. The dynamic energy that fueled him faded into the aether.

He stared out into the sprawling disorganized anarchy, to exhausted to even shift away his eyes.

A few sparks of thoughts wandered idly, looking for the familiar logical patterns that they always did.

And, now, seeing something.. else.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

The double doors gusted open with a great stormy breath. Wind cast rain in Wulf's face, and he gasped. The dark gray of the sky loomed like death itself, like the darkest corners of the most tumultuous mind.

It was fate, Wulf could feel it. It was Odin marching toward him, Thor descending on a stormy plume, Zeus in his chariot growing frightfully nearer. Something was undoubtedly divine about right now, something was primal, wild and untamed. And this something was what he greatly desired all along, he realized, standing there on the front doorstep of the school.

No, this thing approaching was what he needed. And, come Hell or high water, he would have it.

His legs, now animated with a will of their own, moved forward slow and somber like a funeral march. Wulf was zombified, caught up in some alien mix of entranced fierce determination, and zealous abandon. Down the steps, his feet carried him, across the grass, and Wulf felt something building within him every passing second. He was soaked head to toe, the winds whipping at every side, occasionally strong enough he could barely stand--and he was loving it.

"I'm here!" the exclamation escaped his throat without his permission, "Find me, Great All-Father Odin! See your son, Lord Zeus! Thor! Perun! Indra! I am your willing lightning rod! I call the resounding power of your glorious thunder, to echo in the chambers of my heart and soul!"

Bright white spindly fingers extended out in all directions across the sky, and the following turbulent rumble seemed to reply without words, to Wulf's entreaty. His chest was heaving. The words were entirely too vague. Nothing like his priests had told him of. The way they told it, Zeus' laugh was loud and haughty! And Odin's rage was clear, unmistakeable! And Thor--the stomp of his foot was not to be matched! And Indra! And Perun! And Raijin! And...and...

All at once, entreating to The Thunderers made Wulf feel weary. With a deep, dejected exhalation, as he collapsed to his knees, clutching wet grass and earth in his shaking hands, he realized...those were the only gods he'd memorized.

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

What fresh irony was this.

Besides the grey tone, she looked exactly same as when he'd met her. Well, not really. This one had no hole in her chest.

She regarded him up and don, and as she did her face fell and she sighed a long, deep sigh. "Your a student." Not a question, a statement. "Come on in." Billy, shock still gripping his mind, just stood in place and stared behind her.

It was enormous. Just big. Really, really big. Billy's head hurt just trying to comprehend the size of this room. In theory, no matter how big a room was you should be able to see the wall. He could not. No matter how he peered into the distance, a wall did not appear in his sight. If one stood in the center of this room then the roof may as well have been the sky, because you would not be able to tell you were enclosed.

That was the second shock. The third came from the fact that, despite the size of this room, in was packed in like a can of sardines. People, from all races and cultures, barely had the room to stand next to one another. There was only an opening in front of the door, he supposed to let new soul in.

Sarah shook her head sadly, and walked out to thew her arm over Billy's. Gently taking his hand, she guided him inside and shut the door behind her. She almost had to lean him against it when she detached herself and went to the wall of people, those that could see peering curiously at the newcomer. She made her way to an empty space, presumably hers, and tapped the boy beside her. Billy recognized him to, David (Buried on College Grounds), and began looking wildly around. Mike the Spike (No Preference), Rac, Yama, and Kold (Just Give them Back to Nature), that plant guy (Cremation), Thurg (Stuffed and Mounted ). This huge room, this sea of faces.....

Billy was beginning to get an idea of what it was for.

A sound caught his attention. He looked up, and saw that Sarah (Don't Forget Me) had somehow cleared a space for him.

He stood up quickly, and waved his arms. "Oh, no, no, I'm sorry, there's been a misunderstanding. I'm not actually dead."

David introduced his face to his palm, and shook his head. "Good God...." Billy heard him mutter. Sarah broke rank again, and stood in front of him. "Look, we know how you must feel, but it's really better if you just accept it."

"No, I apologize, really, I'm in a sort of unique position." He replied, backing slightly away from the girls extended hand. "You know, you remem-"

No she didn't, Billy had to remind himself. What he'd met was her ghost, an imprint of her left behind in the world. No, not even that. An imprint that he called up by pouring magic into her dead body. The one here was the genuine, original Sarah that left the body upon her death and began walking the path.

"No, I suppose you don't. Regardless, I'm not dead. I'm hear to receive training from the Knights, to fight the Red Eye."

A murmur shot through the crowed, and exited energy filled the room that had been so dead before. It spread like a wave across the room, the people close enough to hear the proclamation spreading it to those behind them who had not. Billy wondered how long it would take to reach the end.

The front row was starring at him, dumbfounded. Then Thurg's face broke out into a wide grin. "Hell Yeah! Looks like we won't be long for this room after all.

"Y-your really going to fight it?" Asked Sarah. "I mean..... you?" She looked over him again, presumably to find the rippling muscles, glowing eyes, and shining 7ft long sword she had apparently missed the first time.

"Well, not just me." Billy said, looking down and slightly hurt. She didn't need to say it like that. He decided to change the subject. "So, my hypothesis was correct. This is the Red Eye room."

"Yeah." She replied.

Black Lord, all these people. A country of graves wouldn't be enough.

All he could say. "You all must really have a really big grudge it, being willing to wait this long."

"Not really."

Billy's head shot up. He met her eyes. She went on.

"Most of us just want justice."

Billy's brain threw up error messages. That statement and the one previous just didn't work together.

She seemed to see the confusion in his eyes. She looked side to side, sort of uncomfortable. "You know, we just don't want this to happen to anyone else."

She let this hang in the air. Billy sort of deflated, powered down, the intensity that flowed through him at seeming all times instead flowing out. He mouthed her three statement, mulling them over and testing their weight on his tongue. Then he stiffened, and had what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity.

He laughed out load, long deep, happy laughs. He smacked himself in the head once or twice, laughing for all the world to see. Like a crazy person.

Sarah yelped and he leapt forward and wrapped his arms round her, pulling her into the most enthusiastic hug she had ever felt in her life. "Thank you." he said, still laughing. Again and again, "Thank you, thank you." He pulled away, grabbed her hand, and vigorously shook them. "Thank you, Thank you thank you. My Apologies. Oh gosh, I am just so sorry for that. I'm so sorry, but thank you. Thank you so much." He said, jovially and almost horrified by his own actions.

"I've been wrong." He continued, "I've been wrong about absolutely everything, forever. For all time. But not now. This time I'm right. Thank you!"

He released her, and she took one or two unconscious steps back. Billy extended his hand, pointing to the entire room. "My friends, rejoice in knowing that your wait is over. The Red Eye will be here soon, to find you waiting. And you, Miss Sarah." He said, pointing specifically at her. "Thank you again. I'm overjoyed to tell you that you will never see me again. Whooo!" Billy leapt, turned, and barreled out the door, leaving the poor girl looking like she'd been hit by a truck.

David walked up to her. "How'd that weirdo know your name?" he asked, curiously.

"Uhhh..." was the only reply she could give.

-------

"Smooth move jackass. thought the Spider into Billy's head. "You really gave that one your A game."

Billy said nothing as he walked down the hallway, smile on his face.

"Seriously, game recognize game. And let me tell you, you couldn't have made yourself look any more like a friggin psychopath if you had tried. So respect. That's an achievement."

"What's your name?" Billy asked.

"What?"

"Your name. Do you have a name?"

"No. Look sh-"

"Alright then, I'm going to call you Clatterclaws if that's alright with you."

"It's not."

"We'll think of a new one then. Later though."

"What's up with you?"

"I've been wrong."

The Spider was afraid to look into Billy's mind to see what he meant by that. Instead, it just kept needling.

"So this is a great strategy.Piece of tactical advice; Keep walking around like this, and those pissed dude are going find you.

"Do you think so?" Billy replied, a skip in his step. "That would be lovely."

It was then that the Spider had the first inklings that it was doomed.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

The only gods you memorized...

The only gods you memorized...

The only gods you memorized were the first entries in the Book of the Sky. And damned fool you are, you probably only remember the first bits of their entries, too. Study hard as you can for school, it means nothing if you fail to serve your gods. Now, for certain, Mother won't be proud of you...

Wulf clenched the ground harder, looking up to the voice that seemed to descend over him like a mist, even in the pouring rain.

And if that's the case, the cold and serpentine voice continued, then just what in all the thundering Hells of stormy Tartarus are you still doing here? You cannot fool the gods, Wulf. You cannot fool the gods, any more than you can fool your family. How many chapters of self-serving feel-good stories have you committed to memory, Wulf? How many have you regurgitated before your friends, before your classmates, like a rabid dog whose meal didn't go down right, to make sure that everyone around you knew just how devout you were...?

"W-what?" Wulf sniffled, wiping his face, and then feeling foolish, for the rain had already washed his tears away, "Who...wh-who said that?"

Indeed, you cannot fool the gods. And you cannot fool your family. You don't even have the luxury of fooling yourself. You never have, and you never will. You are a fool, but you aren't fooling anyone.

Shaky whimpers escaped the storm mage's throat; Wulf's chest was heaving, and through the pattering of rain pounding on the muddy ground, he could hear himself crying. Bawling, in fact. He hadn't cried this hard in a while. Aside from his sudden and shocking spiral into a depth of soul-crushing failure...the release felt good.

The revelation felt like manna from heaven. Or something from the sky.

A breeze? Snow?

No, not a breeze. Not snow. It felt like...

It felt like rain. The very rain that beat his skin, in the midst of the school courtyard.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

So, have you figured out the mystery, Wulf? Have you discovered what it is that fuels your power? Have you discovered the impulse, which becomes the spark, which becomes the mighty thunderbolt? Do you see what light, through yonder window breaks? Have you found the silver lining, to the storm cloud of your cognitive dissonance?

"What are you talking about? Astrape! Bronte!" Through his tears, Wulf recalled the names of Zeus' divine ministers, of lightning and thunder respectively, as a hateful crash of thunder rocked the skies in the distance, "Whoever you are! Answer me! Who are you? What do you want?"

Can't you tell, by now? And you call yourself the clever one.

"I never said that! I have faults! I...I have faults!"

Indeed, you have faults. All too many...but the question is not whether you have faults. The question is whether you can acknowledge them. What are they? Can you say them out loud, or are you just repeating that, too, to make yourself seem humble?

"No! I...I'm a know-it-all...I like to be right. I'm stubborn, and competitive to a fault. And...and..."

Wulf sniffed, and his hand clenched again, until he felt something sharp, jagged and stabbing. He looked down to see he'd grabbed a rock embedded in the ground; his hand was bleeding. To add insult to his injury, the voice would not relent.

And?

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

He was waiting when they showed up, a well way away from the door for the red eyes victims. No need to cause a fuss for them, especially after his especially dramatic exit.

The Arm Man held up his fist, and the other souls stopped on his order. The Necromancer was just standing there, not even trying to run. That usually meant that they were planning something. He advanced by himself.

"Good evening sir." Billy said, not moving. Not shaking. Almost casually. "I don't believe we have been properly introduced. I've given you my name. It's only polite that you give me yours."

The man just kept walking, and said in his strained, choking voice. "I didn't know your kind put much stock in manners."

"It's just one of the many ways in which I think we are similar, sir."

He let out a choked chuckle. "Aldric Lichtenstein, High General of the Knights of Shining Water. "

"Ah, the fertile lands."

"Can't be called that any longer, I'm afraid."

"Yes, I understood as much from mother."

Shining Water was the city of endless bounty, from which flowed a mineral rich spring. The river had afforded the Kingdom of Southern Cross a bountiful harvest every generation, allowing it's people an rich, luxurious way of life from selling off the excess. It also showed the wisdom of the ancient mantra "an army runs on it's stomach," possessing nothing less than the greatest military on the planet. A military that, Grandfather had learned, was massing for a campaign to put an end to the Millennial Kingdom once and for all.

Mother had killed Shining Water. Some sort of toxin. It had been her very last assignment.

"Shining Water may have been lost, but you'll be happy to hear Southern Cross still stands." Billy continued.

Aldric had stopped just out of grabbing range, and stood imposingly over Billy. The man absolutely towered. Behind him the crowed of souls shifted uneasily, and Billy got a good look at them for the first time. Soldiers were among them, but not in the numbers one would expect. Most were older, or younger. Much younger. He sighed.

Some souls wait in hatred, or love, or fear.

"And some wait for justice." he mumbled to himself.

Aldric hit him.

Billy went flying back, landing dully on his back. It hadn't hurt nearly as much as he'd expected. He pulled himself up as Aldric closed the distance, slowly.

"Mr. Lichtenstein, how do you define justice?" He said, dusting himself off. Aldric said nothing. "Its alright, you don't have to answer. I know it already. Justice is what the guilty fear, am I correct?"

The man stopped. "That's right. Are you afraid, Necromancer?"

"No. I don't have any need to be." he said, wiping blood from his lip. He certainly hoped that wasn't something permanently soul scarring. "Of course, neither do you. Or them." he said, nodding to the crowd that had advanced behind Aldric. "But you, you were to lead the assault, weren't you. Mother told me of your plan one night, while drunk. She said it was very good, very likely to succeed. So I wonder, if mother hadn't stopped it when she did, what sort of crowed would be waiting for you. You'd be the guilty one, and my mother would be here waiting to gut you."

"Well she isn't." he said.

"But she very well could be." he said, defiantly. "In fact, she would be. Because she'd be innocent, then."

"No she wouldn't!"
Aldric hit him again.
Billy stood back up.

"Do you know the story of how Grandfather came to power?" He asked.

Aldric didn't stop.

"I'll remind you, then." Billy said. Somehow, he was still calm. "Long ago, The Millenial Kingdom went by the name Sandoria One day, a young King came to power and the people loved him dearly. But one day the kings younger brother, his most trusted general, lead a coup and put his family to the sword. He took the crown for himself and ruled as a despot for 15 years, plunging Sandoria into into darkness."

Aldric suddenly chimed in. "But the new kings son saw the evil in his fathers heart, and when he was old enough killed him in his bed and fought the royal guard with a handful of soldiers loyal to him. He was nothing like his father, and ruled fairly for 2 of the most prosperous years Sandoria had ever or will ever see. But then the first king made a pact with heathen gods...."

"The young king was unwilling to let go. Wandering the halls of death, he challenged the Lord of the Black Manor for his life and defeated him. The Lord took pity on the first king, and taught him the secrets of Necromancy. He returned from death and laid claim to his throne with an army of the undead and loyalists who remembered his rule and recognized the legitimacy of his claim."

"And so a war was fought over Sandoria. The tides of the dead were too strong for the living to quell, and the good king was killed by the First king. Those that would not accept the leader of the dead were banished."

"Forming the Kingdom of Southern Cross." Billy finished.

Aldric, despite himself, looked impressed. "You know your ancient history."

"I was making an example." Billy said. Aldric looked interested. Billy continued. "The usurper was guilty of regicide, and was destroyed by his son. The sons family was guilty of stealing the throne, and was destroyed by grandfather. Grandfather was guilty of killing a good man, and so Southern Cross attacked. Southern Cross attacks, so we retaliate. We attack, so Southern Cross attacks. Southern Cross attacks, so we attack. Southern Cross is Guilty. Millennial is Guilty. Justice is what the guilty fear! Justice is when the guilty are destroyed! Do you understand yet!?"

Aldric wanted to respond, but the intensity of the boys eyes and voice kept him silent. He'd seen soldiers that didn't have half this passion, and the boy was taking on a strange black glow.

Billy went on, undoubted. "I've been wrong! We've been wrong! We've been defining it wrong all these years, that's where all the problems are coming from."

Billy surged forward, mana falling off of him. No longer bubbles, kept under pressure and only seeping up through cracks. Now it was a whipping, howling black wind. It covered up his hand as he flung it for Aldric's neck, and before the man could react he wrapped his fingers around the hand, his mother hand, still gripping his windpipe even in death. Mana surged.

------

Worlds away, across time, Elizabeth Bishop felt her phantom limb relax for the first time in years.

-----

Billy pulled the arm away as Aldric gripped at his own throat, sucking in air even though he didn't need to just for the feeling of it. He looked down at Billy, all signs of that awesome power now dissipated, as he discarded the arm on the floor. He was smiling.

"Justice isn't what the guilty fear, but what he innocent hope for. A girl taught me that, just now."

Down somewhere among the endless halls Hickory Nix smiled his crooked smile.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

"And...and..." Wulf's eyes lit up, half with fear, half with rage, and he shouted up to the sky, despite the rain in his face, "And what more can I say?! I can be terrible, at times! But who can't be? I mean, I'm self-righteous, at my worst, and I like to be right, and do right, all the time! But who doesn't like to feel they're doing the right thing?"

You take it too far. You're a zealot, a slave to your own desire to be perfect! Yet you still can't answer...just who are you trying to please? Your mother, who is proud of you, and has promised to be proud of you, no matter what? Or the gods, who can already see past your facade anyhow? Who are you trying to please? Who?

A stark-white javelin streaked across the sky, and a second after it was gone, there came a sky-shaking, pride-shattering boom. A sick, angry pang tugged at Wulf's gut, as he bowed in deference; yet again, he was at a loss for words. After meditating for a brief moment, weary from the thoughts newly arising, he got up to his feet, and simply stood for a second, his legs wobbly beneath him. Only at the wind's urging did he move from that spot, across the schoolyard again.

His attempt to wipe rain from his face was only half-hearted now; the winds whipping water into his eyes bothered him less and less with every step. Before long, the raindrops running down his cheeks felt as natural as his own tears.

"I..." his voice escapes him again, "I just want to do the right thing. I want to have the answers. I want to help others. I just want to be a leader, and to only follow after the gods."

Well, you don't always do the right thing. And you don't have all the answers.

Brushing aside a tree branch, as he entered a shallow tree-laden path, Wulf retorted to the empty air, "I can still help others!"

Not in this condition. What kind of leader would you be, without knowing your own greatest weakness, and turning that weakness into a strength?

Shaking his head vacantly, pushing aside Wulf felt himself almost laugh, "Weakness into strength? How Confucian. And just how do you propose I do that?"

Recognizing your weakness. The true weakness. The other weaknesses are minor, inconsequential. You missed the true problem. The one that promises to be your fatal hamartia, if you don't harness it for your gain.

There was a weary groan, as Wulf looked up through the treetops, to the scowling skies, "Then tell me what the weakness is, already! Whoever you are, I don't have time for your riddles! I don't have time for your games! I'm already dealing with my own personal storms--"

CRAAAAACK! BOOM!

The young mage's gaze averted from the bright and brilliant flash, and he covered his ears to block the resounding boom, but only for a second, before something far more alarming resounded within him. His eyes brightened with the revelation, and his heart pounded, as though just waking up from a long unpleasant dream.

That's right, stupid. It's more than clear now, isn't it?

"It is...it's all too clear now." Wulf heard a disbelieving laugh escape him; he hadn't laughed, even to scorn the stupidity of others, in a good long while, "I can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner!"

His laugh grew from a small, timid thing into something full, healthy and hearty. A deep trembling laugh shook him from head to toe, as he trudged amidst the trees. His spirit was so brightened, that even as lightning grew more frequent, and thunder grew deeper and more angry, they seemed to fade into the inaudible background of his relief.

Even the college gate had only been a blur in the background until Wulf bumped into it. The mage turned, pressed his back against the cold black iron bars, looking back toward the college. And that drew yet more laughter from him. He'd walked nearly a half a mile, without the slightest clue where he'd end up! Some leader he would turn out to be. He was barely paying attention to his own direction; how could he possibly hope to help direct others?

Wulf closed his eyes, and tilted his head up. He took in the stormy breath of the sky with a deep inhale, and reached back to grab the gate's iron bars.

"I'm so close!" Wulf called out, his chest heaving, "I can feel it! I'm so close, I can taste it! I can smell it! What message you have for me, I think I'm more open to it right now than I've ever been before! I think I could hear you! Just speak to me, Lord Odin! Make your presence known to me, Master Zeus! Let me see the power of your hand, Great Thor! I'm listening! I'm watching! I'm waiting--!"

Though, the young mage would not wait long, for as Wulf poured out the very depths of his heart and soul, it seemed that all the sky was intent to do the same. The waning light of the daytime returned tenfold in a marvelous luminous instant, before flickering off once again into dark obscurity. The sky let out an outcry of thunder more deeply-resounding than Wulf had heard before in his life. And then came a smaller flash, a jarring buzz of lightning crashing against metal, the blurring of senses into frightening synesthesia, and the smell of overpowering ozone.

Wulf's muscles unclenched, and as he was allowed to loose his grip on the iron gate, he collapsed to his knees. Now...he had to rest. No need for a bed; he was at peace with his place in nature. He would just...lie down there. And rest.