Judgement

“Alright everyone, I think it’s about time we get this started. It’s time for our king and queen apparent to hold court over the accused we’ve kept in our dungeon for quite some time.”

It seemed announcing court topics was part of an ambassador’s job responsibilities or perhaps that was only temporary. Simon du Wolff arguably had more important matters to attend to than simply standing around and essentially ‘keeping the minutes’ but he also seemed to enjoy it. Or perhaps that was just the fact that it was going to be the first official session, the first official gathering of the governing bodies of New Rhaegar for a tribunal. He was primp and proper but relaxed, melted into his role like glaze over a sweet – fitting. Vandrad, however, felt terribly out of place and anxious, though a casual onlooker wouldn’t know it. The stern gaze of the nearly newly minted king was sharp and intimidating, lacking any joy or amusement as it slowly rolled over the heads of his court. There was no hatred for the gathered members – elected officials of family, his people and that of Mercury’s people. No, his tension came from the two subjects that were waiting in the holding cells just next door. Though one of them weighed far heavier on his mind than the other.

Best to get through that person first.

His glanced over to Saffron, the blonde easily distinguishable among the heads and faces of the people gathered. His dark motif seemed to soften slightly in recognition of what was to come, of the significance of the trial and her being there. It would not be easy for her to see the man that had lied and used her again and he had offered her the opportunity to be absent for it. But unsurprisingly, she had insisted on coming. His eyes turned towards Mercury, seated beside him and gave her a considering nod, awaiting her response of preparation. And once he received it, he turned to look at Simon.

“Send in the prisoner.” he ordered, his tone as authoritative as it was capable of being.

Simon bowed his head gently and reached down to his wrist. A small, glowing holographic panel snapped to life over his forearm and he pressed a few buttons to send the signal to the guards waiting outside. A technological testament to the combination of influences, the armbands were altered versions of the one that Horsius and Grubar wore, tied into the still budding framework of New Rhaegar’s internal network. The unmistakable lurch of doors opening drew the attention of the room to the small, side corridor just off the main runway, hidden behind a pillar. But it was only a moment later that two guards came around and headed towards the small platform below the raised platform where the thrones sat. Between them, clad in magic-blocking cuffs, was dragged a man familiar to all that had gathered.

His hair had grown out even longer than before and was in utter shambles, cascading down over the back of his head and to his lower back. His beard had ironically been kept trim and proper, though that may have been from Cyrene’s check ups to make sure he was eating and staying healthy. He was placed dead center on the platform, the guards leaving him in place and taking a step back. His own dark eyes lifted up to look at Vandrad then Mercury and then back to Vandrad. ““King Vandrad du Wolff,” Xavier said softly, an ironic chuckle escaping his mouth. “Looks good on you, man.”

“Xavier Clarent, former ruler of the planet of Rhaegar, has been imprisoned for just about four months. His crimes while the self-proclaimed God-King of Rhaegar are innumerable but none so greater than the attempted genocide of the Rhaegarian people of the North. This court… is not gathered to put him on trial for his actions on the former planet. Though they may have been unjust and despicable, the people of Rhaegar do not wish to hold him accountable for his actions there. There are several of our people that were enlisted and served the God-King and have been granted amnesty. Earthland has provided a second chance for our people as a whole and we hold this truth justified even against Xavier Clarent. He is being put on trial today for the attempted assassination of King Vandrad du Wolff, first of his name…”

“He did not attempt to kill me,” Vandrad spoke up, bringing a swift silence to Simon, as well as gathering the attention of the room on himself. “Though he did engage me in combat, his intentions were never to end me. I know as much because when given the window of opportunity to do just that, you refused.” His attention had been solely focused on Xavier since he entered but now he was addressing him directly. “What I want to know is why.”

Xavier stared up at Vandrad with a blank expression. ““Why what?”

“All of it, Xavier. Why did you disguise yourself, only to throw away your attempt at a new life? Why did you seek out a means of redemption with me and my family, only to attack me? Why did you lie, deceive and hurt…?” Vandrad’s tone had taken on a sharper edge, his anger rising before he brought it to a stall. He wanted answers for Saffron, justice for the woman he had trained, had taken under his wing, befriended even. But as much as he wanted to grill for answers, he knew it was pointless. Saffron had already heard everything she needed or perhaps even wanted from Xavier. And as the king, he couldn’t let his emotions overwhelm his rational thought, especially since his crimes against Saffron – and he did hold them as crimes – weren’t directly involving his nation. He tsk’d in annoyance before he continued. “There is no sense in your actions, Xavier. And this may be the only opportunity you have to tell your side of things to anyone. I advise you to use it appropriately.”

Xavier’s gaze remained fixated on Vandrad, even through his momentary lapse of kingly judgment. Not that he could fault the Fairy Tail Ace for his anger. ““Why?” Xavier asked rhetorically, shaking his head solemnly. ““Because put on this planet, I was forced to finally look at myself in the mirror. To remember everythin’ I’d did on our home planet, to the people that I’d fought so hard to save and free. I was confronted with the blood of your people, our people that coated my hands and I… ran away and hid from it. The actions of the king’s men are the actions of the king and I knew what Seberg was doin’. I just… didn’t stop him, not that I could have even if I tried. But I coulda tried if I wasn’t so blinded by my anger and hatred. For your grandaddy and the acts I thought he had taken.”

“Thought?” Vandrad asked, seeking clarity.

““Bacchus du Wolff disappeared when my daddy needed him most, leading to his death. Turns out they wound up here because someone was influencin’ him from another dimension, somewhere called the Dreadlands.”

A veritable, questioning mumbling moved through the crowd. Xavier glanced around and found himself looking at Saffron, his eyes growing wide with painful recognition. Slowly his gaze turned away, the life in him dulled back into depression as he looked back up at Vandrad, who nodded at him to continue. ““We were pawns in a game, Vandrad. Two ancient, smug creatures had manipulated your grandaddy and then me to try and pit our families against one another. She… Bast… she told me she wanted me to help my people, to protect them from the darkness that supposedly surrounded you. She told me that she could release you from it and you’d be free. But then when I was there, over you, she told me that I had to kill you. That it was the only way. I…” He drifted off softly, his eyes dropping down to the ground in front of him. ““I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t. I wanted to save you and it didn’t sit right with me that that meant killin’ you.”

Vandrad sat with that information for a minute, his hands steepled in front of him as his elbows rested on the throne’s armrests. “A fascinating story…” he said. Of course, he lacked Mythal’s ability to discern the truth through lies but Mercury was capable of reading fluctuations in his biology for markers that could be lying. But, perhaps more importantly, Vandrad’s ability to sense emotions opened a window for him to see just how open and distraught Xavier was. And that wasn’t something that he could mimic or trick the king with. “This Bast woman… did she tell you anything else?”

Xavier seemed confused for a brief moment. It almost sounded like Vandrad… believed him. ““Said she was the spawn of some race called the Vogdae or Ancient Ones. Some nightmare monsters from before our time? That the only reason she knew anythin’ was because her and Ulthar, the other one of her, sensed some kind of disturbance on Rhaegar a long time ago. Oh and another planet… uh… Teras Prime, I think she said. She even said that something else happened, that some poor bastard had sucked up all the leftover Vogdae energy and he’d gotten a preview of the Abyss and that had opened a door for Ulthar to start influencin’ your family.”

A pin could have been heard dropping with how eerily, terribly silent it had gotten. Shocked, concerned looks passed through most people gathered but no more than the ruling family and their close compatriots. The ones that all knew of Blade and Maker and the story of how the fallen Terran had come to power. Even Vandrad had stiffened with the revelation. That wasn’t information that was just readily available; it wasn’t something that Saffron would have accidentally spilled to him during a private moment with him. That meant that that power that Maker had tapped into, the strange energy that he had called ‘Myn’, had come from these Vogdae. At least they had a name for the race from the Time Before.

Xavier’s brow furrowed in confusion, once more looking about but this time with far more focus on the exchanged looks, particularly of the du Wolffs. He’d said something to strike a nerve. ““Y’all know about this?” he asked, a dim but curious fire lit in him.

“Are you still capable of communicating with Bast?” Vandrad asked, ignoring Xavier's question.

““Uh… I don’t really know. After I refused to kill you, I kinda told her off. I haven’t sensed her since, though I don’t know if I would with these on,” he said, lifting his hands to show the cuffs.

Vandrad narrowed his gaze in thought. As determined as he was for answers – and he was – he couldn’t simply let Xavier go. Whatever larger purpose or plan was operating behind the scenes, granting Xavier amnesty for his actions just to sate some questions was inconceivable. No, they would grill him for more answers even if he was behind a jail cell. The only remaining factor was if Xavier was slavish enough to know he had something they needed and attempted to use it to his advantage. He’d surrendered of his own accord; perhaps the first real step he could take towards real redemption would be offering up answers without recompense, at least to Vandrad. For Saffron… well, as far as Vandrad was concerned, there was no healing those scars.

“Whether you’re speaking the truth or not, you lack evidence to prove your point, beyond your refusal to take my life,” Vandrad finally spoke, lifting his head up a little. “And I cannot in good conscious pardon you for your actions. Though I am not as soft as to take personal offense at an attempt on my life, a statement must be made for those that would target New Rhaegar with hostility, even from one of its own people. You will be remanded to the prison for the foreseeable future, during which you will be expected to act as a model prisoner. If genuine attempts are made to redeem yourself for your actions, we will move to reconvene and discuss what steps will be taken dependent on your results.” Letting out a soft sigh from his nostrils, Vandrad lifted his eyes from Xavier and looked towards the guards. “You may take him.”

Xavier’s head dropped a little with the verdict, though he understood. It wasn’t nearly as harsh as he expected or, perhaps, deserved. The guards linked their arms through his and began to pull him away. The former God-King found the gumption in him to turn and look towards Saffron once more, if only out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t deserve to get a last glimpse of her but he simply couldn’t help himself, the fiery blonde locks filling him with a sense of peace for his judgement before he disappeared around the corner of the side hallway.

“That concludes our court business for the day. Please exit the room so as to give the king some time to contemplate,” Simon spoke to the crowd. The room broke into murmurs as the gathered group began to file out the main walkway, with only a few people remaining.

“Time to contemplate. He makes me sound like a damn scholar,” Vandrad mumbled to Mercury irritably. Once the main mass had left, leaving only a handful of the du Wolff family, he turned his gaze to Mercury. “You ready for this?”

Vandrad gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, the smallest of gestures one might give in the situation but one that, she knew, was far deeper than its simplicity. Once she indicated to the guards to have the next brought in, he receded back into his royal position, his eyes focused on the only other prisoner of New Rhaegar as he was brought before them. Khelben looked in better straits than Xavier had been, though why that was beyond Vandrad’s comprehension. Once his escorts had placed him on the landing, they exited the room, leaving him at the mercy of those that knew all too well his crimes. Undoubtedly that was making him nervous, his greeting proper but soft and careful. The king waited for Mercury to speak, the strong and silent foundation of her support as she worked up the courage to finally confront the trauma, the heinous memories, that had been done to her. Once she had addressed the reason for his being there, she opted to speak herself of his actions, running down his crime sheet while the room kept still and focused. But nothing more awful than his acts upon his ship, the assault that had changed their lives – all of their lives – forever.

Mercury was doing remarkably well recalling the timeline, better than Vandrad believed even he would be able to. She spoke of how difficult it would have been to handle Xavier’s trial and he sat there thinking that the former God-King was pittance in comparison to the current trial they were in. But her voice was strong, undoubtedly built upon a façade of anxiousness, shame and fury but firm nonetheless. Khelben was breaking down as the story was retold, nearly crumbling as he quivered and wept where he stood, though he listened with upmost focus. He was given the opportunity to address his actions with some kind of defense and he found himself lacking. Of course he understood the facts that had led to his breaking, the history and threat that he and his people were under acting as a constant, fatal stressor. But he understood that they were just excuses; as no other of his kind had ever given in to their baser, darker urges for the sake of relieving their stress. He’d discovered a darkness in him that he abhorred and he found himself unable to spin himself in any kind of positive light.

Despite them lacking any real healing factor, at least in Vandrad’s opinion, he apologized, lamenting his actions and wishing he could do anything to take back what he had done and just wishing to continually state his sorrow. His pity was nearly overwhelming, especially to the king whose empathic sensations were attempting to overwhelm him with the sorrow, pain and heartbreak that Khelben himself was feeling. However, Vandrad was perfectly capable of brushing off the invading emotions, simply noting their existence and continuing on his same, steely demeanor. The only sign that he wasn’t simply a status was the slight raising of eyebrows when Khelben explained that he hadn’t intentionally hired Thana to kidnap Mercury. He’d put out a notice for a professional bounty hunter to help him wrangle Mercury under control and the former dark mage had come to him under a disguise. Once he’d realized who she was, once she had brought the Silver Wolf Ace to him, he’d very quickly concluded their business and left.

The remarkable part was… it made sense. Khelben, for all his faults, didn’t seem the kind to go searching for someone of Thana’s caliber to help him out. Mostly because there was no telling if she’d honor any kind of agreement made or if she’d break away for her own entertainment’s sake. So his crime of hiring her under false pretenses seemed to be resolved and further cemented Vandrad’s conclusion that his actions in the Rune Knight headquarters were justified. Though he was overwhelmingly happy that he hadn’t been king then; that may have resulted in quite the diplomatic incident.

With his words finished, Mercury turned to the rest of the room to offer any words of defense or condemnation before his sentence was handed down. The room remained still at first before, of all people, Themesycia took a step forward.

“Rape is not something one can easily look past. It is an act that leaves a scar that will remain with those affected for the rest of their lives. At a young age, my father instilled in me a sense of what was right and wrong, as he did with my siblings and upon learning what it was, I abhorred it more than I may even murder. Learning the truth of your actions against Mercury filled me with a rage that I have not felt in a long time, when I learned of similar acts.” She didn’t specify exactly what she meant by that, mostly using it as a baseline to establish her fury. “Were it not for my respect for your family and your people, I would have marched into your cell myself and cut you into ribbons until you had the bare minimum of earthly matter needed to remain alive. And, truthfully, I do not believe I am fully over that inclination,” Themesycia explained, her gaze cold and courting violence as it focused on Khelben.

“However… I also recognize that single mistakes do not make up the matter of a man or woman. Though your actions were despicable and dishonorable, you’ve shown nothing but remorse for them. You have taken steps to try and rectify the damage you have done. You have even put your life on the line for the sake of my family and your own… as well as the planet as a whole. I do not see before me the man that committed these horrifying crimes and its my hope that perhaps that version of you has already perished.” Gently, she gave him a nod, a courteous act that spoke volumes beyond its simple measure. A motion of hope, of faith that Khelben could evolve past his demons and darkness and become someone worth knowing.

She stepped back and gently reached over to lay an encouraging hand on Gren’s shoulder. The former Rune Knight was still and stiff, his eyes narrowed in a scornful stare at the Xocili prisoner. He seemingly shifted, as if trying to will his body forward and partake in the encouragement that Themesycia was trying to offer him. To speak the words that he felt so passionately and dearly, despite knowing that they would offer no motion or movement to his judgement. But the old soldier simply couldn’t find it in himself to speak, a terrible mixture of disgust and rage swallowing up the more rational parts of his mind. With an angry grunt escaping from his nostrils, he turned and walked away from the group towards the entrance, leaving furious and unwilling to accept the inevitable conclusion. Themesycia sighed softly and turned her gaze up to Vandrad and Mercury, giving them a nod to continue. After all, what point was there in allowing the drama to hinder the trial beyond causing trepeditious waves.

Vandrad was… unimpressed. He hated to think that he could lose respect for his father, who had proven himself as close to the perfect paragon as he could imagine. Of course he understood why Gren was belligerently angry; it was only a year ago that Vandrad had left quite the stomping foot trail on the island with his own rage. He had just hoped that Gren would be able to rein himself in for the sake of the trial or, at the very least, voice his anger as a means of starting the healing process. It was a matter that they would certainly have to deal with later. “I’ve spoken my piece to Khelben already and I see no reason to repeat my words now. So unless anyone else feels so inclined, speak now. Otherwise, it is time we bring this matter to a conclusion.”

Vandrad had truly hoped that they would be able to get through this with minimal complications. And he supposed, on some level, that had proven true. No punches had been thrown and no vile words had been tossed at Khelben from anyone gathered. Still, Gren’s sudden and emotional departure had been a hard impact for most of them to swallow, most of all Mercury, who was as open and raw as she could be given the circumstances. The king knew that his father would regret his actions, most likely sooner rather than later, but he simply couldn’t get out of his own way. Nevertheless, despite not being there for the sentencing that was quickly approaching, he would be held to the same standard as everyone else. The judgment being passed down would be considered final and no one was to act against it knowingly.

Understandably, Zemenar felt compelled to speak his piece, to put to words his standing and feelings. His emotions quickly bubbled up into anger and shame, lashing out at Khelben for the abhorrent actions he had taken against his own sister, against Zemenar’s daughter. It was rough on everyone to listen to and the rest of the room stood and sat in absolute silence, barely a breath taken as Khelben stood as a quivering mess of tears and shame. But Zemenar took control of his rage and circled back to the fact that despite everything, he would always love Khelben as his son. And seeing how much his son had worked on trying to make himself better, to make up for the damage he had done, gave Khelben hope that they would eventually learn to grow past the tragedy.

Cyrene gently placed a hand on Zemenar’s shoulder, a sign of support and comfort. Mercury once more opened the floor for anyone else to speak, though it seemed everyone that had something to say had already said their piece. With that set, it was time to render judgment to Khelben, with the Xocili queen apparent asking if he was ready. With a soft but resolved voice, the Xocili prisoner stated his preparedness for the verdict. Mercury waited for only a moment before she raised her hand and snapped her fingers, unshackling him from the chains that had been wrapped around him. Khelben was the very picture of shock and awe, looking down at his former shackles and trying to ask the imperative question of why. And Mercury explained that while he was guilty and that she could never truly forgive him for what he had done, she understood what had driven him to snap. Keeping him behind bars wasn’t going to help him grow beyond his past actions. She believed that simply locking him up and forgetting about him despite all the effort he was putting in was not the way they wished to build the foundation of their nation.

Vandrad turned to look at his future wife and gave her an encouraging nod as she continued, explaining that she wanted to know what it was like to have a family. She had been adopted by the du Wolffs, in a manner of speaking and it had awakened in her a desire to have as much family as possible and to keep them no matter what. They had their issues but they were still a family and that had a deeper meaning to her than anything else. All she wanted for him was to heal and to experience a life of freedom like the rest of his people. To yearn for all the things he had never allowed himself to hope for while in captivity under the Nazru. More importantly, she wanted her future child to have an uncle that they could see and know and for herself to have a brother that she could bond with. With that in mind, she had chosen forgiveness over damnation. While she didn’t expect everyone in the room to do the same, she did expect them to honor her choice and treat him with the due diligence that she had granted him.

Khelben collapsed to his knees, his emotions overwhelming him. Zemenar approached and hugged his son close to him. When he saw the motion, Vandrad held out his hand and helped Mercury down until they found themselves standing before the collapsed men, Khelben looking at her with confusion still. Finally she told him to stand up and once he did, she held her arms open for him to hug her, the two siblings tentative at first but growing tighter once they had committed. After several moments of embracing one another, they finally pulled back, with Zemenar insisting that they head home to let him calm down from all of the emotions and activity.

Vandrad watched them go, giving Khelben a nod, which was something of a trademark of the king at that point. The two of them had spoken at length about Vandrad’s feelings towards Khelben and it was clear he, too, felt the same as Mercury. The man deserved a chance to heal and recover from his atrocious actions and prove himself better than who he was before. As Khelben and Zemenar headed for the door at the end of the long room, Themesycia approached the two, wrapping her arms around Mercury and hugging her close. “You made the right choice, my dear. A better choice than I would have surely made,” she said encouragingly to the queen apparent, giving the woman a gentle kiss on the cheek. “I am just sorry that everyone couldn’t be as understanding.”

"Gren will cool down and most likely feel awful for his actions. He just let his anger get the best of him,” Vandrad said, though his tone was gruff with his own disappointment. Though he doubted it would cause any sort of large, impacting rift, it was going to be a sore spot for some time. He turned to look at Mercury and Themesycia. "Overall, a good first gathering. Though it seems we have much more to talk to Xavier about than we previously thought.”

The queen mother nodded gently. “Whoever this Bast woman is, it seems she had knowledge about the creatures that had been the focus of Maker’s machinations. I… don’t believe his words about my father were right though. Bacchus was a kind and caring man. If he had said Beatrix being influenced by the malevolence of this Ulthar, I wouldn’t have batted an eye. Though perhaps that was his influence; of course, that doesn’t make much sense, as Xavier believed you were being influenced as well and Beatrix has long since dead.”

"We need more answers. I’m not keen on letting those cuffs off without reason but it seems we need him to communicate with Bast somehow.” Vandrad had thought the matter of Maker’s fallout had been all but rectified and closed for good. But now, it seemed, they had even more to contend with.

With the ending of Khelben’s trial, the gallery had been opened back up. The large doors at the end had been opened by the guards, allowing Khelben and Zemenar to depart and the few others that had remained to leave as well. Interestingly, a new addition had been waiting with Saffron after she had left earlier. Cedric leaned up from his spot once he saw the doors were open and gestured towards it with his head, inviting Saffron to venture in with him. He’d opted away from his usual gi and for something more street; a baggy pair of dark tactical pants with a belt that had straps hanging down over his hips. He wore a gray dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up beyond his elbows and a black shoulder holster strapped around his chest. As he approached the remaining three royal members, he gestured behind him. “It seems I arrived late for the pageantry.”

"I would have been surprised to see you at all, given your dislike of Xavier,” Vandrad said with a slight scoff.

“Yes, well, he isn’t walking free so I’ve no reason to be upset. Your grace,” he said, taking Mercury’s hand with his own and planting a kiss on top of it. “You’re looking as radiant as ever. Queen mother, you as well.”

“And you look like the door guard at an underground gambling establishment. A look that is working quite well for me,” Themesycia purred with a playful smirk, giving him a once over.

“Walking around looking like I’m about to compete in a martial arts tournament at any moment ironically garners more attention than this, if you would believe it,” Cedric commented, gesturing to the outfit.

"If you are done ladling your obnoxious charm everywhere,” Vandrad interrupted. "We learned some things from Xavier’s testimony. Things about the power Maker had attempted to gain control of.”

Cedric frowned. “From Xavier? That’s… odd. Those two never met, did they?”

"No, it seems that there was a connection beyond that. Information you undoubtedly will want to hear.”

The former Dread Master nodded. “Fair enough. I’ve also come for the sake of deeper investigation. I reached out to Mythal and asked that his two guardian angels drop by as soon as possible. Figured we could use the meeting room.”

Vandrad’s eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity. "Ruman and Izrael? Why would you want to summon them?” Already the king was turning and heading back towards the stairs, to take the more direct route to the meeting room that was a short ride down. He held his hand for Mercury to help her up the stairs as Themesycia walked beside them.

“Well, to put it quite bluntly, Vandrad; we need to know if they have any information they can provide for helping you take some of Faera’s power into the Ark,” Cedric explained, following the royal trio. “We were hoping to use Shepard to do that but that didn’t go quite the way we hoped. And now that Ruman and Izrael are, supposedly, on our side of things, it seems unkosher to suggest one of them sacrifice their life for the sake of giving ourselves a weapon. I thought, perhaps, they might have another idea.”

“I don’t think any of us are willing to trust that they are fully on our side yet,” Vandrad said, his tone heavy but not biting. As a man who had fought countless battles, rose through the ranks of the military, he was not prone of simply believing anyone’s word simply because they spoke it, especially former enemies. Mythal’s ability to divulge the truth had proven unparalleled but that didn’t mean it was infallible. Faera was just the kind of devious deity to try and find a way to get around that. After all, she had been inside of Mythal’s head – maybe she got a sneak preview of what his adoptive brother would be able to do. “However, Saffron is right. We’ve been made painfully aware of the vehement hatred the immortals and their followers harbor for the Ark and, by extension, it’s users. One was bad enough; I can only imagine they will be outraged that two have access to it.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d include Ruzatz and them in that overarching belief. Though perhaps the Prime Sin of Lust might feel a bit differently if he knew how well trained I am and you are becoming,” Cedric commented, playfully but not lacking substance. Self preservation extended to every living being and surely Ruzatz would be, at the very least, concerned about the growing ability of the Ark users. “But I doubt they’d attempt anything against you or I; not with them trying to prove themselves trustworthy.”

“Deceit can only extend so far, my dear Cedric. Lines may be crossed but there is only so far a person can break, even an angel,” Themesycia commented.

That seemed the end of the conversation for the moment as they made their way through the inner workings of the manor. After a short walk, they found themselves in the meeting room that had been utilized far more times than most other places on the island, save for the training area. As everyone settled in, Saffron came over to Vandrad and Mercury and began, ruefully, to inquire about their feelings regarding Xavier’s trial. “Taking advantage of you and Mercury are my largest gripes with Xavier,” Vandrad said plainly, though his context was far more compassionate. “But, and this is not to excuse his actions, I understand why I felt the need to hide his true nature. It takes a rude awakening for some men and women to realize the folly of their previous actions, of their former selves. And when faced with who they were before, they can choose to run from it, to pretend it never existed and start fresh. And as much as I hate to say it,” he said carefully, turning his gaze towards Saffron. “Sometimes it takes someone else to bring out the better parts of their nature that had been long buried.”

“However, as we’ve discussed, he had plenty of opportunities to make things right and stumbled at every juncture, save taking my life. Yet maybe his mistakes were brought on by deceit beyond even his understanding. Whoever this Bast woman is, she sounds far more informed on the greatest aspects of our universe than even Xavier understood.”

Cedric had to put in quite the effort to keep from rolling his eyes and scoffing. Seated a few chairs down with his arms crossed, the former Dread Master opted not to comment on the matter. His opinion of Xavier was simple; wasted space. As far as he was concerned, he’d abused the trust of a proper Fairy Tail mage and Ace and made an attempt on a sovereign’s life. The fact that he was still breathing was more remarkable than anything else. Perhaps he was allowing his own, personal feelings for Saffron to influence his emotions towards severity but he didn’t seem to care.

A plume of dark energy bubbled up from the ground near the end of the table, expanding into an orb of shimmering darkness and violet hue. The portal steadied and the two Trumpets stepped out from its depths, placing themselves fully on the solid floor they’d visited not even days prior. As the portal snapped shut behind them, Ruman fully set his gaze on Vandrad and Mercury. “Your majesties,” he stated politely, bowing his head in regal recognition of their titles. Izrael, despite her usual thorniness, followed suit before returning to a demeanor of disinterest. “Mythal informed us that you’d like to speak with us concerning a strategy against the Dark Mistress.”

“Spare the formalities,” Vandrad stated. “This conversation will take twice as long if you keep using majesties, graces and all of that. Vandrad and Mercury will suit us just fine.” He already knew Mercury would agree with him, the Xocili even more on edge about being royalty than he was. At least he had the background for it. “The matter we wish to discuss does revolve around a strategy for Faera but it’s far more complicated than that…”

“Mostly because our main weapon we plan to use against her is so despised by you and yours that even mentioning the Ark of the Dread Masters makes the skin prickle,” Cedric chimed in, his back to Ruman and Izrael as he began to speak but fully turned as he unveiled the name in full. He didn’t help the matter by showcasing his usual, cocky smirk as he looked between the two Trumpets for their reactions.

And it was visceral. Vandrad was already narrowing his eyes at the back of Cedric’s head in annoyance, frustrated that the former Dread Master had opted to jump into the topic so carelessly without paving a careful road. Both Ruman and Izrael stiffened in recognition and their demeanors – one of a teenager and one of proper etiquette – each changed to that of similar surprise and anger. “The Ark of the Dread Masters was lost with Marka Ragnos. None have managed to control it since him.”

“Not lost. More put on hiatus. Until his ancestor and his genetic clone came into power.” Cedric added with pleasure, gesturing to Vandrad and then himself in time with his words. “Surprise.”

“Cedric!” Vandrad snapped, rising to his feet quickly and angrily. “You forget yourself.”

“There is no easy way to break the news, Vandrad. We might as well rip the band aid off now and see if their so-called allegiance is as firm and believable as they make it out to be,” Cedric explained. Still his gaze remained forward, studying the angel’s faces with wicked amusement. “After all, the Ark is the ultimate taboo according to them. The hardest slap humanity has ever delivered to the gods and devils. If they are still loyal to Faera, duty demands they try and end us here and now.”

Despite his extravagant display of showmanship that was greatly unappreciated, Vandrad’s glare slowly lifted from the back of Cedric’s face and looked towards Ruman. The large Trumpet looked beside himself with offense, as if the former Dread Master had delivered a personally scathing insult to his very being – which perhaps he had. The air of tension that hadn’t fully taken root was beginning to tighten around everyone in the room.

“The Ark… is still accessible…” Ruman spoke softly, his tone low and menacing. “Do you understand the ramifications of what this means?”

“Well-“

“Enough out of you,” Vandrad snapped, coming around the table quickly and placing himself beside Cedric to stare at Ruman. “I won’t pretend this is easy news to swallow. I also won’t pretend to understand the full depth of what it means to have access to the Ark. My education on Marka Ragnos is somewhat recent and lacking. Both myself and Gren were unaware of any connection to him or his Dread Masters until this one revealed himself and spoke on the matter.”

“Lord Scourge the Dread Master,” Izrael finally spoke, focusing her gaze at Cedric as he turned to look at her with the small showing of surprise. “Don’t believe we weren’t aware of the Dread Masters still infecting this world with their filth.”

“Is it filthy to stand up to immortal beings that treat humans like pets? Does it make us filthy to fight back against oppressors who would step on us like we’re nothing but ants? If you so, you may as well call me the crust of this planet,” Cedric hissed.

Izrael huffed furiously from her nostrils, eyes blazing with anger. But, surprisingly, that rage began to settle at a remarkable speed. “As if. I’m not giving you grief because you stood up against the other pains in the ass. Faera – the original Faera – was always a supporter of those that would protect themselves against the more corrupt of our kind. Plus those assholes let her go to Kingdom Darkness without so much as an argument. They believed her role to be minimal in the grand scale of things and simply agreed without even offering up themselves. They’re just as responsible for what Faera has become, for the creation of the Dark Mistress.” She let out a soft sigh from her nostrils as she found her balance. “Plus we’re informed enough to know that you’re not with the Dread Masters anymore. But the Ark is dark and dangerous, composed of essences and powers that humanity doesn’t understand. That we don’t understand.”

Cedric was momentarily stunned. He had been expecting another verbal clash, not unlike the one he’d had with Eden. But the way Izrael, between the two of them, had settled herself had taken him by surprise. Maybe he didn’t need to come in as hostile as he had unintentionally planned. “No one is doubting that, trust me. I’ve trained with the Ark for most of my life and I know it’s not something to take lightly. But it’s ability to take control and turn divine or demonic energy back against the original user is exactly what we need against Faera. The problem is to harness that kind of energy requires a sacrifice of someone within that realm. We’d been planning to use it against Shepard, since he seemed so gung-ho to pick a fight. Obviously we can’t do that now. Naturally, before everything that happened, we figured you two would be a back up but…”

“Are you suggesting that one of us sacrifice ourselves to that abhorrent power?” Ruman snapped, his eyes snapping to Cedric.

“No,” Vandrad spoke up once more. “You claim that you wish to help us, help Mythal, in the fight against Faera. And despite your previous position, we’ve agreed to give you both a chance to prove that you’re trustworthy. But we are not ignorant enough to believe that you would go to that extent.” Vandrad inhaled slowly. “I fought for a long time against using the Ark. Its abilities felt wrong, brought out a side of me that I didn’t enjoy. A savageness that was nearly beyond control. But whether I want it or not, we both can access and utilize the Ark and if it provides a viable means of bringing down Faera once and for all, then I’m ready to use each and every weapon I can. We brought you here to tell you ahead of time of its existence so you won’t be blindsided. That and we hoped you could provide some insight into how we might find a means to gain control of Faera’s power without needless sacrifice.”

Ruman was… quiet, for several moment as he considered the information, as well as Vandrad’s words. With each passing second, his rapid inhales settled into a more controlled rhythm. Finally, after what felt like an hour of waiting for a response, he lifted his head. “I am sorry… but I cannot provide aid if it will benefit the Ark. It is clear that the majority of your strength has come at the aid of stolen Freasdalian power already and I refuse to add to it.”

The mention of a name might have sparked curiosity in Vandrad and in most circumstances, he would have inquired to know more. But his attention had been stolen by the insinuation – no, the outright accusation that his power had come solely as a benefit from the Ark. Despite trying to be diplomatic and proper, at least on his end of things, offense rippled over his features. “My strength has come as a result of my own training, of my own magic. The Ark was only added on in recent years.” He spoke slowly, still trying to keep some semblance of regal poise.

“Then it was aiding you without your knowledge. No matter the case, your power is a result of the Ark’s influence and nothing more.”

Izrael looked up at Ruman like he had several heads, absolutely aghast and shocked. The corner of Vandrad’s lip twitched along with his brow as a familiar vein began to surface on his temple. “I will not suffer asseverations to my abilities without consequence, Trumpet.” Vandrad leaned forward a bit, a challenging pose as he glared up at Ruman.

The Trumpet met him in kind, leaning forward and down towards the king. “Then consider my words a challenge to prove me wrong.”

Vandrad bared his teeth. “Name a time and a place.”

“There is an old, forgotten coliseum in a subspace that was used eons ago for sport between the gods. It is abandoned and free of collateral. If you agree, I can take us all there momentarily.”

Vandrad knew he should probably take a step back. Pull himself out of his anger, take a deep breath and collect himself while discussing the matter with Mercury and Themesycia. But his ego had taken a large hit there and while he usually could stomach that kind of talk from most people, something about the way Ruman had phrased his words had pushed him beyond the brink of reasoning. “Do it.”

Ruman nodded and extended his hand outwards away from him. Another portal formed from the ground up, solidifying into its full form. Ruman held Vandrad’s gaze for a moment longer before walking towards and into the portal. Izrael chased after him, looking more confused than anything else. Vandrad huffed at the portal before glancing over at Mercury and Themesycia. For a moment, an apologetic look crossed his face, a momentary lapse of rage for consideration to shine through. But then his features hardened again and he walked into the portal.

Themesycia sighed softly as she walked over to help Mercury up. “Well, this is proving more eventful than anticipated,” she said as she took up residence beside Mercury and led her towards the portal.

“Yeah, I’m… honestly surprised. I honestly thought I would be the one picking a fight again,” Cedric said.

“Not for lack of trying,” Themesycia chastised him before moving into the portal with Mercury and Cedric bringing up the rear.

The portal of darkness emerged to a realm beyond anything they had seen before, though perhaps, of all people, Mercury would be able to see some resemblances. Not unlike Maker’s pocket realm, composed completely of dark-like energy to simulate a blanket of space, the background for the new realm was similarly made up of one single focus. But the backdrop was covered in a swirling green and yellow smog that blanketed everything beyond the place they had come to exit, covering whatever may or may not lie beyond the scope of the so-called battleground. As for the coliseum, it was unlike anything on Earthland; a large structure that looked like an oversized spinning top, complete with center pillar. Several large mounds of rocket dotted the battleground, seemingly made of the same material but in its raw state. The group found themselves exiting onto a floating ring made of the stone-like substance, a set up for an audience to sit and take in the sight of the fights below.

Ruman was walking towards the edge and Izrael ran up to him quickly. “What in the darkness are you doing, Ruman? You were the one that told me we were supposed to be friendly and cooperative with these humans. I don’t think picking a fight with the Darkness King’s adoptive brother is a quick way to build trusting bonds.”

“Trust me, Izrael. I know what I’m doing,” The Trumpet informed his compatriot, turning just enough to look over his shoulder at her and nod. Then he leapt from the edge towards the battlefield, the ground rumbling from the force of his jump but remaining still nevertheless.

She watched him with a scowl, though it was mixed with concern and confusion. "You aren’t going to try and make this an unfair fight, are you?” She turned to Vandrad as he approached her, already taking off his kingly attire and dressing down into his armor. Luckily, Vandrad basically had free reign to deign what was the appropriate attire to rule and, as such, had decided that his armor would be the focal point of his outfit. It wasn’t flashy and gauche and it sent a clear message; he was always ready for a battle.

She scoffed lightly. “Fighting isn’t my thing, not like it is for Ruman.”

As Themesycia helped Mercury to a comfortable seat and then took her place beside her, Cedric walked to the edge and leaned over to look at the endless void of emerald smog below them. “So this thing is just… suspended in the air. I’m assuming magic is holding it up.”

“Old magic. The Divines brought this realm together as a joint act of celebration. A show of triumph over the banishment of their destructive sibling. This place was an opportunity for the immortals to test their mettle or the strength of their chosen champions. Ruman and I only got a few chances to see it before…” Izrael’s voice trailed off. It hadn’t been long after Ataxia had been sealed away that the other gods and goddesses had realized that Kingdom Darkness was spiraling out of control without a vanguard. And in the end, they had joined Faera in journeying to the realm, locked away from the rest of reality.

“That must have been a sight to see,” Cedric commented idly, even as Vandrad finished discarding the rest of his adornments. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her,” he said, nodding to Izrael.

"You won’t need to,” Vandrad said simply. Despite his frustration and annoyance with the other Trumpet, he seemed content to take Izrael’s word on remaining passive. Pulling his gloves tight, he glanced backwards at Mercury and Themesycia and then launched himself from one hovering structure to the other.

When he landed, he found himself alone… for a moment. The only sound he heard was his boots meeting the solid surface. He had but a second to begin his visual search for the Trumpet of Triumph before the larger angel was upon him. He seemingly came out of nowhere, materializing out of the ether as if by divine command. His overly-sized fist slammed into Vandrad’s chest with a thunderous crack and the King of New Rhaegar was sent hurtling backwards through the air. Head over feet he spun before slamming into a rocky outcrop, the impact causing it to shatter as a crater viciously was carved in by Vandrad’s body. Stone dust kicked up as pieces of the rock began to fall, disturbed from their eon-long rest. Vandrad grimaced as he wrenched himself out of the him-shaped indent in the rock, only for Ruman to already be back upon him.

The king pushed off from the rock, leaping into the air in a bid to get above the assaulting angel. But Ruman caught him; his large hand wrapping around Vandrad’s leg and bringing him to a dead stop. Down Vandrad was pulled as Ruman spun the mortal man easily around before throwing him once more, sending the king towards yet another rock and breaking it into pieces. Vandrad went through that structure of stone, crashing down onto the surface of the battleground behind it.

“If this is the power the Ark bestows upon you, I am miserably disappointed,” Ruman commented from his place, his voice carrying over the flat land easily.

Vandrad didn’t answer, standing back to his feet and sneering at the man. He could feel the rage and hatred bubbling up inside of him, the Ark demanding penance be drawn from the divine creature to satiate its bloodlust. He could even feel the throbbing in his forehead as the Mark attempted to manifest itself without his permission. But Vandrad was not the novice in control like he used to be and very easily forced the damned magic back into its corner to stay. Perhaps a foolish move -- Ruman hit like a freight train and the king could feel he was still holding much more inside. However, he refused to give the angel the satisfaction of gloating if Vandrad was forced to rely on the Ark to win.

For a brief, fleeting moment, he considered using his Aspirant form. The ability to connect to the Weave would, undoubtedly, prove not only beneficial but could possibly even overwhelm Ruman. But that would still be relying on something other than his own, true power. The one that he had spent a lifetime building and forging through hardships, grit and battles uncounted. No, he would beat this sententious seraphim his own way.

Ruman once more blinked out and into existence, only fleeting particles of darkness and darklight left in his wake of manifestation. That large fist once more struck Vandrad, though this time his own limbs had moved in to put up a barrier for the impact, though he was sent flying up into the air still. Around and around Vandrad went as Ruman shot up towards up, looking to complete a combination move and hammerblow the king back towards the ground. However, as he came within proximity of being able to hit Vandrad, the mortal man let out a roar. Magical energy exploded out from him as cerulean light filled the angel’s gaze. He let out a yelp of surprise, forced backwards from the eruption of light and shockwave of the magical pressure. That was quickly followed by pain and an agonized groan escaping his mouth in spite of any effort. His eyes looked down to find Vandrad’s knee buried in his gut. Just as quickly as it found itself there, it moved back and then snapped out into a full kick, hitting Ruman at full force and driving him back into the ground.

The loud crash seemed to shake the entirety of the realm as ancient dust was kicked up once more. Though despite the heavy impact, the floor itself did not break from Ruman’s impact. Large mitts pressed down onto the surface to heave the massive angel back up, even as Vandrad came down and landed across from him. The king had changed. His dark hair was now a deep, ocean blue color, long with his brows and eyes. His body mass had increased as well; his muscles were large and expanded, causing the material covering his form to stretch to its absolute limit. With a cold, calculated stare, he fell into a fighting stance as his aura blustered around him like a raging storm of sapphire light.

“So this is your true power then…” Ruman said, his tone almost impressed. “A shame such awesome strength comes on the back of terrible power.”

"I won’t tell you again, angel. What you’re seeing is my power alone. Feel free to come and gain that revelation firsthand,” Vandrad stated, proudly inviting further trial of his ability.

Ruman hummed in thought. “Very well. If you will use your full power… then so shall I.” His eyes closed slowly as he focused inwards. The dust that his body had kicked, that had begun to settle, suddenly began to vibrate on the ground. The entirety of the realm darkened, as if the light had been drawn into him and snuffed out. The air grew thick and heavy, a wind rippling out from the angel as he unshackled the full force of his magic. From the center of his chest, a glowing red circle appeared, highlighting a very dark orb buried beneath the flesh of his pectorals. Electricity began to tear through the air around him, black and purple bolts of charged energy that streaked and crackled loudly. Suddenly a wave of darkness erupted from him, slamming into Vandrad and forcing him back a step from his spot. He winced from the impact, feeling the massive increase in power just from the eruption that had struck him. Billowing black and purple energy rippled over Ruman’s form, outlining his entire body with its terrifying power. His eyes finally slid open, glowing a bright purple, with his iris nearly lost within the pool of energy.

“Trumpet of Triumph,” Ruman announced, his voice booming throughout the realm, his deep tone vibrating through each and every person’s bones. Vandrad scowled as the angel rose slowly into the air before him, the cursed electricity shooting off of body and traveling over the ground around him. “Now I will dismantle that cursed Ark with my bare hands.”

The king scoffed. "Bold talk. But let’s see if that flashy show actually meant anything!” Vandrad’s body coiled slightly before he launched himself up towards Ruman. He came soaring in with a heavy punch, only for Ruman to pivot his body and avoid the attack completely, leaving Vandrad’s body turned and open.

“Know when you are outmatched, mortal!” Ruman snapped, his large right arm cocking back and then soaring forward. But to the surprise of those watching, Vandrad’s thrown fist pulled back, despite his body still being turned, and caught the punch, his fingers taking a tight grip on two of the angel’s knuckles. His hand flexed, tightening his hold as he pivoted his head slightly to glare past his hand at Ruman, eyes flashing with azure light and vicious intent. Ruman grunted and tried to pull himself free, only for Vandrad to yell with effort and swing his body around to slam his leg into Ruman’s side, causing his body to jerk to the side and bend in the same direction.

With the angel’s defenses seemingly off guard, if only temporarily, Vandrad took advantage of the opening. His left arm lashed in quickly with punches, a literal blur of movement as he peppered the angel’s torso with dozens of punches over the tense seconds that he held him in place. His last punch cocked up into an uppercut as he released Ruman, sending the angel’s body up slightly. "Outmatched?! I’ll show you just what a mortal can do!” Vandrad roared angrily, his right arm pulling back far and dramatically. His entire body moved with the throwing punch, carrying the full weight of his body and magic with it.

A chuckle… and an ominous, terrible sense. Vandrad barely had time to alter his body’s movement as a globe of compressed, compacted darkness erupted from Ruman’s hand towards him. He avoided it but just being in the proximity of it caused the elastic-like armor on his arm to dissolve into nothing and leaving a painful burning sensation along the limb. The king jerked himself away as the magical attack soared past him and crashed into one of the rocky outcroppings on the ground below. The rock lit up and then exploded into glittering, spiraling particles, leaving no trace of the terrain from before. Vandrad looked at the result of the attack before he turned his attention back to Ruman, only to find the angel’s leg coming down towards him. It hit him full force, shooting Vandrad down into the ground in a blur of movement and cacophonous roar of his impact.

“What the hell?!” Cedric snapped, having jumped to his feet when the attack had come crashing into the rock. “That was…”

“Dreadether, yes,” Izrael said, nodding softly. “Its pure form from the depths of Kingdom Darkness. Ruman can use it sparingly when he is at his full power.”

Vandrad grimaced as he pushed himself to his feet after his hard landing. He’d, too, sensed the variation of dreadether, now that his instincts had settled from the near impact with peril. As he stood to his feet, his armor scuffed and cracked all over, Ruman slowly settled back on the ground. "He’s nothing like he was before…” Vandrad muttered to himself, surprised at just how alarmed he was.

Ruman raised his hand, magical energy forming in his open palm as he unleashed a volley of darkness globes, thankfully not powered by dreadether. Vandrad leapt away from the assault, narrowly avoiding them as they slammed into the ground and exploded. The king had barely found his footing again when Ruman charged him once more, zipping across the battlefield and closing the distance between them in seconds. He threw one punch, which Vandrad brought up his own arm to block before being forced to bring up his other arm to block a kicked lashing towards his head. Then two follow up punches that Vandrad managed to catch in his own hands, holding them in place. "After all that lofty talk of the Ark being cursed, you use dreadether yourself? How hypocritical.” the king chastised the angel through gritted teeth.

“What I use is the purest form of dreadether, to show you just how terrifying and accursed it can be. It will not save us from Faera; it will only bring about a worse destruction,” Ruman growled back before his leg snapped up, slamming into Vandrad’s gut and sending him flying backwards. His hand snapped forward and unleashed a beam of magic to follow up his melee, the attack exploded against Vandrad and increased his velocity as he soared backwards. He slammed into one rock, ripping through it before doing the same twice more to two other formations. The fourth managed to remain standing, though the king made quite the crater out of its stony side. There Vandrad hung, arms and legs buried in the monolith as Ruman stared at him. “And what of you? You’re fighting simply to prove me wrong, that your precious Ark has no hold on you. Falsely believing that your magical prowess can compete with a Trumpet’s will. I will protect this world and every other from the same corruption that took my Mistress, that threatens my king! That is my true cause.”

His eyes flashed and his arms began to rise up once more. The ground rumbled beneath him as loose stones, flung wildly from Vandrad’s destructive flight, rose in the air around Ruman. “To serve that purpose, I will strike down any enemy who poses a danger!” With a bellowing roar, he began to channel magic above his raised hands. A tremendous amount of energy materialized in the form of a glowing ball, easily thrice the size of the angel.

“I set you free, Vandrad du Wolff! Be free of the Ark’s corruption!” He announced before throwing his hands forward and releasing the ball of magic. The globe hastily tore forward, vaporizing the ground and leaving a long trench in its wake as it rushed towards Vandrad. The king grunted as he tried to pull his limbs free, even as the globe began to take up the entirety of his vision.

Corruption. Terrible power. From the moment that the word ‘Ark’ had left Cedric’s mouth, Ruman had been making assumptions about him. Here was the Trumpet of Triumph, believing that his cause, his mission of defense, meant that he had to make snap judgements about what Vandrad could and couldn’t do. The angel had put him in a box, spewing out conjecture about where his power had come from. He hadn’t seen what Vandrad had gone through; the trials he’d endured, the challenges he had faced and the pain he had suffered to survive. Ruman looked at the surface and criticized without ever wondering if he should venture further in, if there were scars from overcoming abuse and agonizing victory. It infuriated him beyond anything else, filling him with boiling hot lava of emotion beyond the comprehension of the Ark and its immortal prejudice. A fury that came rarely, swirled around inside of him and dissolved the locks and chains on what were his current limits, unsealing the barriers and awakening a deeper strength from below.

Once more pushed into a corner, Vandrad broke through his ceiling, his magical power rising to new levels. Built upon its former foundation and solidified from his training with Victoria and even Ryori, strength overtook him. Just as the magical attack swallowed him up, Vandrad roared from within its core and vaporized it from the expulsion of magic from within him. No fiery aura surged around him but, instead, a glowing light blue outline traced his entire body, from limb to limb along with a deeper blue that clung tight to his form. His hair was glowing at its core, seemingly made of pure hot-white light that eased from light blue to deeper ocean as one’s gaze moved to the edges of his follicles. His pupils were bright teal and contracted into small orbs, glaring at Ruman with calm fury.

“What?” Ruman asked, genuinely shocked as his eyes widened at the sight. Vandrad didn’t give him another moment to contemplate, yelling with effort and intent as he shot out of his crater and slammed a fist into Ruman’s face, knocking his head to the side. Now it was Ruman’s turn to fly backwards, viciously bouncing and rolling over the ground before slamming into a rocky outcrop. The king landed and unleashed a torrent of energy from his hands, the explosions rocking the arena and swallowing up the area around Ruman.

Yet he didn’t wait, the King of New Rhaegar surging into the magic-laced explosion and peeling it apart from his mere presence. Within its core was Ruman, attempting to catch his balance but a kick and several punches once more undid any defense, sending him careening through the rock and back through another. The angel found his balance enough to thrust his hand forward, creating another magic attack to try and regain the offense but the orb dissolved as Vandrad soared through it. Punch after punch rained down on Ruman as Vandrad kept up the attack, knocking the angel around. "What do you make of your assumptions now?! Is your will still overmatching my prowess? Am I still under some kind of corruption?!” Vandrad roared in Ruman’s face as his fists slammed into the angel over and over again. "Who gives you the right to strike down anyone?! No one! And you won’t either! Not if I have anything to say about it!”

A final kick sent Ruman flying up and over a rock before crashing down onto the ground on the other side. Vandrad was moving already, forcing Ruman to get to his feet hurriedly. His arm cocked back and the same attack from before, the one composed of dreadether, formed in his hand. The limb shot forward, sending the deadly attack towards Vandrad. Yet the king didn’t slow or move to avoid; instead, he shot his hand forward and coated it in his own magic. The punch dipped into the dreadether ball and then, miraculously, amazingly, it caused it to rupture and break apart.

“What?!” Ruman yelled out in disbelief. Yet his shocked face was treated to another heavy punch, causing him to stumble back in pain.

"Do you actually think I’d let you STOP ME?!” Vandrad roared, even as Ruman caught himself and sent another dreadether attack at the king. This time Vandrad dodged it, slipping just beneath it as it rushed off to vaporize another rockface. The angel swung his other arm forward, attempting to launch yet another matching ball but was swiftly met by Vandrad’s fist in his stomach, making him lose his focus from the pain. He attempted to bring his arm down with another but Vandrad was already there, kicking the angel’s arm and causing yet another globe of dreadether to sputter out of existence.

The king followed up the defensive kick with another one, sending Ruman sailing into another set of rocks.

"I’m going to make you understand who you’ve come up against. I am no slave to anyone or anything. I’ll hit you with an attack that is all mine, all my own power. One even you can’t deny!” Curling his hands tight into fists and tucking them at his side, Vandrad began to channel his magic into him, yelling as he charged up. His own form of electricity began to crack around him from the pressure he was building within. A golden ball of magic erupted from his feet and surrounded him, beginning to swirl and wrap around him as he fed his magic into it. It began to grow larger and larger, amassing every bit of his magical energy into the final attack.

Ruman stood to his feet, staring at the compounding magical sight before him. He roared as he held his hands out to the sides, bringing forth dreadether in each palm. He slammed his hands together and forced the balls together, resulting in them magnifying to an impressive, terrifying size. As Vandrad continued to yell, Ruman thrust the extreme amount of dreadether towards him, the ball rushing forward and crashing into Vandrad’s own powerful display. Each ball pushed back against the other, trying to assert dominance and wipe the other out. Each man yelling at the top of their lungs as they put their all, their very beings, into their attacks.

The dreadether ripped through the outer layer of Vandrad’s attack and swallowed it up, completely trapping him within its heart. And yet the king roared within, unbent, unbroken by the deadly force all around him. A bright streak of gold pierced the dreadether then another, then another. Beams of light splintered the dreadether from all over before it was destroyed entirely and the plume of magic quickly expanded outwards, overwhelming the battlefield. Ruman could do nothing but yell in shock and agony as the force of magic swallowed him up, a massive shadow in the light that quickly lost its figure in the explosion.

The resulting explosion rocked the realm and even many beyond it. The seating area shook violently, with several cracks forming in the solid surface. Izrael swiped her hand in front of her and a tome, not unlike the one that Mythal possessed, appeared before her. It flipped open and began to glow a sickly purple hue as magical energy wrapped around the stands in a protective bubble. Once the explosion had finished its culmination of destruction, the light quickly faded, revealing that the arena had been devastated and split into several, hovering pieces. Smoke billowed up from several of the chunks while hovering, scorched debris listlessly drifted in the void. Izrael looked down at the battlefield with open concern and it would not take long to see why.

Ruman lay flat on a large piece of broken arena, depowered back to his usual form. And standing above him, also back to his base form, was Vandrad, glaring down at him as he panted to catch his breath. Gnashing his teeth behind a scowl, the king pointed down at the angel. "Now you know defeat, Trumpet of Triumph,” he practically spat.

Ruman stared up at Vandrad from one eye, also breathing heavily. A soft, pained sigh escaped from beneath his bushy mustache. “Very well. Finish it, as is your right.” The angel closed his one, good eye, seemingly accepting his fight.

Vandrad continued to glare down at the Trumpet for a long beat before finally scoffing, his body losing its battle rigidity. "You think I would go through all of that just to kill you? You’re even more foolish than I anticipated.”

Ruman’s eye opened up once more. And then, surprisingly, his lips peeled into a smile. “And you are just as honorable as I anticipated.”

Vandrad’s brow furrowed. "Explain yourself.”

“In a moment. Izrael, if you would…” he said, trying to yell out but his voice ragged and hoarse.

“Fine. Just… ugh…” Izrael said, her tone sharp and annoyed. But anyone in the audience nearby would witness her reach up quickly and wipe her hand against her eye before continuing. The pages on the book flipped through before coming to a stop on a new sheet. Magical energy surged out of it and shot down towards Vandrad and Ruman, outlining their forms.

Vandrad looked down at his limbs as his scrapes and bruises began to heal. Even his strength was returning. Once the spell had finished, he was back to his full power, as if he’d gotten a full night’s rest. Ruman, too, looked to be back in his prime as he stood to his feet. “My apologies, your grace. For my words before and throughout the battle. But I sensed from your character that you were the kind of warrior that fought his hardest when his enemy was cantankerous and deadly. And I needed to see if my assumptions about your power were correct. My role as the Trumpet of Triumph allows me to gauge a warrior’s presence and I judged you a noble, self-built man worthy of respect. I’ll admit; your connection to the Ark gave me momentary pause, as it is a cursed magic. But just because a magic is a curse does not mean the man that wields it shares its attributes.”

Vandrad snorted. “So then you figured a battle was the best way to solidify your judgment.”

“Partially true. The full truth is that I enjoy battle and my instinct told me I would not only greatly enjoy trading blows with you but would gain valuable wisdom from your resolve. I’m happy to say it was correct.”

“Are you kidding me?! You pissed him off just so you could get your battle rocks off?! By the damn Darkness, Ruman!” Izrael cursed, letting out a groan at the end of her sentence as she shook her head. “Never been more embarrassed in my life.”

Cedric reached back and patted Saffron on the back. “You get used to it. Vandrad seems to invite challenges because of… well, because of him,” he said, gesturing idly at the king. Despite having, essentially, been baited into a trial of strength, Vandrad didn’t look too displeased -- probably because he’d come out as the victor. He would be remiss if he didn’t admit that testing the archangel’s might had been near the top of his own personal list, though he hadn’t expressed as much out loud. He snorted at Mercury’s teasing accusation, crossing his arms over his chest as she turned and addressed her concerns over their aid against Faera.

Ruman’s cheeks drooped a bit, the only real sign that he was frowning. It was the constant shifting of his cheeks and mustache that emoted his feelings, given the size of the bushel of hair that covered his upper lip. “My pride as a Trumpet would have me assure you that through our combined efforts, along with the Darkness King, we will prove triumphant over the Dark Mistress. It is something in my makeup that wants nothing with aiding the Ark in gaining any kind of power, for the sake of mine and my kin’s protection.”

His thoughts overtook him for a moment, giving him pause as he searched through them and his own inner emotions. “However, my nature is not easily sated by hopes and blind faith, as much as it pains me to say as much. Though I firmly believe we would find a means and a method to bring down Faera otherwise, I cannot deny that the addition of a reliable weapon against her would be foolish to ignore. Plus in the hands of Vandrad du Wolff, I believe it will be used appropriately.”

“I’m here too, you know,” Cedric commented. “But I’ve already used the Ark’s dominance to take the essence of a demon lately. Trying to do so again would be pretty for yours truly.”

"That is all well and good but the way that Cedric used the ability required the target to be sacrificed. I am not keen on taking the lives of potential allies unless absolutely necessary,” Vandrad stated.

Izrael shifted, a harbinger of her preparing to voice her own thoughts.“Tall, dark and cocky can tell me if I’m wrong,” she started, jabbing a thumb towards Cedric. “Nut based on what we know about the Ark, it absorbs the source of power and makes it its own. You’ve used it on living immortals because they possessed sources that were gifted to them from their god or demon or whatever. But really, it just comes down to taking it in from a source, whether its living or not.”

“I’m not that cocky,” Cedric softly complained, though his tone betrayed how disingenuous his offense was. If nothing else, he was a man that understood exactly what he was.

Izrael ignored the comment. “We could try to force Hugo here but at this point, Faera will know something is wrong. She sensed Mythal and Serilda in Kingdom Darkness and no doubt she felt when Shepard bit it. She’s probably already suspicious of why neither one of us have perished as well, since we were meant to be assisting him. But she hasn’t cut us off from her source, meaning we’re also connected to Kingdom Darkness and the resources she had granted us.”

“Izrael,” Ruman spoke up. “Surely you don’t mean..?”

Izrael nodded in confirmation. “Dangerous without a doubt but… it could work.”

"Ominous cliffhangers don’t provide much information,” Vandrad insisted, wanting to remove the cloud of mystery that the two were holding over one another.

Ruman turned to look at him. “My apologies. You’ll remember that some years ago, Faera attempted what was her last attempt to overtake Mythal and make him her vessel. You all performed a ceremony that cut him off from her influence of power but, as a side effect, all of the magical power he had accumulated and forged under her stolen magic was returned to her in full. Faera was not quite prepared for the sudden influx of power, mostly because she believed it would have remained housed within Mythal and used through him. She was forced to trap it, store it even, in a special vault. Thereby she could begin slowly assimilating it into herself until it was depleted. At some point, she decided to keep it as a reserve and begin the process of preparing her body to take in the remnants in whole at a future point. In hopes that the Trumpets would bring about Mythal’s end, we were granted access to it to buff our own natural strength. It’s what allows me to tap into the natural dreadether in Kingdom Darkness and what had led Shepard to expand his knowledge and sight within Kingdom Darkness.” He shared a look with Izrael and nodded softly. “As you also will recall from when Mythal and Serilda fought with Shepard, we elite soldiers of the different realms have access to Domain Incursions. Forcing the will of our natural domain onto an area to fully annihilate an enemy, if required. We can, technically, force an Incursion with that power…”

“It would be extremely dangerous; I’ll just get that out of the way right now. Ruman and I would be forcing a Domain Incursion together on Vandrad and sealing him in a dome of Faera’s power. Power that Mythal may have cultivated but it is still Faera’s and it did return to her, even if for a short time. There is no telling what it can do to you or what you’ll have to overcome to even allow the Ark to activate. But if we want a source of Faera’s power to even have the slightest chance of making your own…” She leveled her gaze on Vandrad, her eyes almost apologetic for the near-suicidal suggestion.

“But you two would have some sense of control over it, right?” Cedric asked.

Ruman shook his head. “In truth, it’ll be dangerous all around. We will have to be focusing to keep our joint Incursion under control; one of us keeping it contained and the other keeping it from retreating. If we lose our balance for even a second, it will attempt to either return to its cage and, undoubtedly, Faera will know the truth of our actions and alignment. Or it could go out of control and infect this realm, destroying it and creating a pathway that would, inevitably, provide a more direct route for Faera to take to get to the living realm.”

“So either Vandrad succeeds in using the Ark or we could doom the entirety of existence. Just another Tuesday for us then,” Cedric remarked callously.

“Should it become unstable and threaten to break free, we would require you to take action to destroy the Incursion. Your ability to control the Ark should allow you to do so and Incursions are far more vulnerable from the outside,” Ruman told Cedric.

“Of course; always happy to stop world-ending catastrophes before they take place. It’s practically my job at this point; so long as you can promise that I won’t get any more holes in my lovely form; I already have two scars too many,” Cedric replied back with a smirk, gesturing to his covered torso.

"So I would be submerged in Faera’s pure power and… what? I need to take control of it?” Vandrad asked, looking between Ruman, Izrael and Cedric.

“Technically if you’re just in the source, the Ark will do the work. It’s fairly ravenous for immortal power. But I’ve never had to do it that way; I only know what the Dread Masters taught me. It’ll happen; I just don’t know how long it will take or what you would need to do to do it.”

“What I’m hearing is a lot of unknown, threatening variables and not many answers for them,” Themesycia finally spoke. “Perhaps it would be wise to investigate this matter further before we enact any kind of plan.”

“I would agree but… there is a window of opportunity that will be closed soon. Faera will ultimately deduce our traitorous actions and cut us off from her power, including this removed power. I am content to wait if we must, to prepare safety measures, but I would caution on delaying too long, lest we miss our opportunity.”

"Do you have access to that power at this very moment?” Vandrad asked, pulling the attention back to him.

Ruman nodded. “Indeed.”

"Then there is no reason to delay,” Vandrad stated, uncrossing his arms. "Let’s take care of the matter, here and now. And I will prove myself superior to her power and make it my own.”

Before Cedric could confirm or deny, Ruman interjected. “We’ll be able to monitor his life energy within the Incursion. If we feel Faera’s power is getting too much control over the situation, we’ll need Cedric to jump in. We’ll be able to notify him if that happens,” the Trumpet explained, nodding to the former Dread Master.

“I imagine the Ark will be far too busy to allow me to pick up on any kind of fluctuation that Vandrad could experience. So I guess we’re putting all of our faith in the two of you. What a joyous trial to prove your loyalty,” Cedric commented, his tone slightly playful but firm enough to tell that he was quite serious.

Izrael snorted derisively as she waved her hand over her tome. The book’s pages ruffled as they spun to a new, unspoken page. “Before we begin, I’m sending a message to Mythal. Undoubtedly his comparative book will alert him to the double incursion and he’ll probably think we’re doing something stupid like picking a fight with his adoptive brother,” she stated, shooting a sharp look at the larger Trumpet.

“So is his book a copy of yours? I remember Vandrad mentioning that Mythal had stolen that from you a few years ago,” Cedric asked, pointing at the ominously glowing tome.

“I let him take it. It belongs rightfully in the hands of the Darkness King. So yes, I had Shepard make a copy. That show of him using his power that tipped you all off to who he really was? That was him crafting an identical copy. It took a hell of a lot of power too, like I hoped it would. Made for the perfect bait.” The Trumpet made a few gestures with her hands and the book flashed once, a bright purple light that erupted from the pages fading. “It’s done. I sent him a memory snap of everything up to this point. His book will give him all the information he needs, though I’m sure he’ll be equally as upset that we’re doing this so suddenly.”

"Whether he is upset or not doesn’t matter. This is my choice to make and I’m standing by my decision,” Vandrad replied, his form stiff in preparation. "We’ll be centering this Incursion event away from here, correct? No one else needs to be in proximity of the danger beyond me.”

“Ah, yes, a fair point. Izrael, if you would…?” Ruman asked, turning to look at his compatriot.

“What, your big muscles can’t go and put everything back the way it was?” She asked him, rolling her eyes as she once more magically flipped through her tome. Another spell was focused on and the broken fragments of the arena began to drift back towards one another. “You’re lucky this place is enchanted to be repaired easily or else I’d be making you and him do the heavy lifting,” she said, nodding at Vandrad.

“To be fair, you two were the ones that broke it. If we’re following the turn of phrase, that means that you both bought it,” Cedric said, with a playful smirk.

Vandrad shot him a glare, though it didn’t seem he really cared that much about the comment. Ruman chuckled as he turned to look back at the reforming of the former glorious battleground. Remarkably, everything returned back to where it had been, fractures brought back to whole as if they’d never broken in the first place. With a loud rumble, the reparations were completed and Izrael let out a small sigh of exhaustion, reaching up to wipe her brow. “It’s done.”

“Do you need a moment to catch your breath?” Ruman asked.

She waved off his concern. “As long as his majesty can get things done quickly, it shouldn’t be a problem. Ready?” She turned her question to Vandrad.

He nodded before turning and walking over to Mercury. With a gentleness that he usually reserved for their private moments, he reached up and laid a hand on her pregnant belly as he looked into her eyes. "I know you’ll insist you’re not worried. But I’m coming back. You have my word,” he assured her, his tone soft and warm. He leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips, lingering for just a moment before pulling back. "Make sure he’s paying attention,” he said to Saffron, turning to look at her and nodding towards Cedric.

“Oh I’m at the peak of alertness. But do remember, Vandrad, Mercury knows someone that can find your ass if you even think about dying,” he chastised the king playfully.

Vandrad let out a small snort of amusement before he turned back to the Trumpets. "Let’s get going,” he stated, leaping off the viewing seats and towards the reformed battleground.

Ruman and Izrael nodded as they turned to watch him fly towards the smooth area of the coliseum. The king landed easily, the soft impact kicking up refreshed dust. He took a moment to center himself, closing his eyes and letting a breath through his lips. When his onyx gems once more revealed themselves, they were refined with purpose and will. He turned back towards the seated area, lifting his head to look up at everyone watching him. With a firm nod, he acknowledged his readiness.

“Alright Izrael, I’ll focus on keeping Faera’s power from breaking free. You focus on preventing its retreat. Are you ready for this?” The Trumpet asked, glancing over at his fellow archangel.

“Is anyone ever really ready to unleash a typhoon and try to lasso it to one place?” Izrael replied with a sigh, even as her book began to flutter angrily through a seemingly infinite amount of pages. “I just hope that the Ark is as terrifying as we’ve heard it is.” Her eyes began to glow a bright purple, overwhelming the one pristine sapphire. Feet away, standing directly adjacent to her, Ruman’s own eyes began to do the same as magical energy coalesced within them. The realm once more began to rumble and darken as the pressure in the air intensified, setting everyone’s hair on edge as instinctive alarms told all to flee.

“Domain Incursion:”
“Domain Incursion:”

Both spoke in perfect sync as two oppressive bubbles of swirling darkness surged into existence on either side of Vandrad, nearly five yards from him. He could see them out of his peripheral yet he didn’t look at them, keeping his focus ahead. The roaring black and purple energy grew in strength and fury as each Trumpet took complete control of their Incursion before…

“Crypt of the Fallen Goddess!”
“Crypt of the Fallen Goddess!”

Both orbs suddenly shot towards one another. Vandrad’s eyes turned ever so slightly to look towards Mercury, a focused look of courage. And then he was gone as both globes slammed into one another, swallowing up the king in their conjoined storm as they bubbled and expanded into one large dome, fully sealing Vandrad inside.

In the beginning, there was darkness.

Vandrad could see nothing, feel nothing. He was still aware of his body, his existence, but it almost seemed detached from the nothingness that surrounded him. The rushing sound of the magic had long since faded and the last glimpses of the life he knew had faded into the void. He didn’t even feel like he was standing any longer. Then he realized that his eyes were… closed. He hadn’t shut them, as far as he could remember. Seemingly they had sealed themselves at the culmination of the spell, some instinctive reaction he couldn’t control. Gently his eyes slid open, a realm that was far from nothing but still, somehow, impossible. His eyes glanced around curiously, taking in the thick, emerald grass-filled yard below and around him. The carved out area yards away, with the glistening pool water and the array of furniture around it. And the tremendous building that stood directly in front of him.

The du Wolff manor. Former manor, that had been reduced to ash and rubble by the bomb that had been planted in it. The manor that had been erased, leaving an ashy battlefield that they had used to confront Maker. Yet it stood, yet not truly. Vandrad’s eyes were drawn to the fragmenting pieces that were pulling up from the roof, particles of matter that drifted up into the gray sky above. As he looked around, everything seemed to be mimicking the same response from the world, slivers of material popping off like it was caught into a waterfall and sliding towards the endless ceiling.

The only comparison Vandrad could think to make was what he imagined it was like to slowly lose one’s memory. Pieces of a picture breaking apart. A haunting visage of a time when his family had grown comfortable and complacent. Though that said nothing of the scars that filled its rooms and hallways, painful pieces of time that the king would rather have forgotten. "Foolish,” Vandrad chastised himself but was surprised to find that his voice sounded different. It was more youthful and higher pitched. His brow furrowed as he lifted his hands, finding unblemished gloves as white as snow adorning the end of each limb. He felt his body and found similar armor to his own but more…grand. Yet oddly familiar.

Frowning, he turned and walked towards the pool area, passing around the gate and squatting down so he could look in the mirror-like reflection. What looked back at him surprised him; the young face of himself, nearly four decades junior. He was even wearing the armor he’d requested of his mother, his goal of becoming stronger having already demanded a warrior’s garb. "Curious,” he remarked, trying to ignore the annoyance he felt at the sound of his own young voice. He didn’t feel any weaker than he was outside of the Incursion. Yet it seemed whatever nightmare Faera’s power was attempting to overwhelm him with had deemed it poignant to de-age him. "If it hopes that will soften my demeanor, it will be painfully disappointed,” he hissed as he stepped away from the pool and turned his attention back towards the manor.

It was only a short walk to bring him to the back door, his own memories colliding with the fictitious image. The last time he’d walked through the door, he’d been returning from the pool with his mother. They’d had a late night discussion about the, at the time, current events and the new tattoos they had gotten -- an act meant to further bond mother and son. Or the several times he’d come and gone with Mercury in tow during her first, invasive arrival at his family home. The slew of memories and moments that they had shared, that they wouldn’t get a chance to repeat. It was like he’d been robbed of the chance to wipe away the pain that was painted into the walls with brighter, fresher memories with the woman he’d chosen to be his wife.

It was true that Vandrad was happy over the creation of New Rhaegar. An opportunity to build pleasant moments on top of something new and unscarred. But a part of him, one that he never really spoke about, felt regret that he couldn’t use his current life to erase the past. As he tuned back into the world around him, he found that he had, instinctively, walked to the door of his room. His hand slowly rose, extending towards the doorknob. But before he could even make contact, the door exploded inwards, ripping off its hinges and disappearing into the swirling void beyond. The air around him suddenly lurched in towards the farcical room, attempting to rip Vandrad from his place and suck him in as well. The king’s heels and feet dug into the polished granite floor, steadying his body even as the cape attached to his armor whipped violently around him. He grit his teeth as he stared at the amorphous darkness occupying his room, seeming to grow and expand within the confines of the chamber. From its core a pair of eyes emerged, glowing a bright green that leaked out streams of eerie smoke. The darkness seemed to take the titanic shape of a human, though it still rippled and bubbled out of place in certain parts.

Faera. There was no doubt in Vandrad’s mind he was staring at some aspect of the Divine herself. "Come to protect what you think is yours?” Vandrad asked, a malicious smirk on his face as he met the unfeeling gaze of the goddess. "No matter. You can transform me into an infant and I would still overcome your darkness and claim it for my own.”

She didn’t like that. A vibrating roar erupted from the figure as it glared down at him, the air that had rushed in now exploding outwards. But Vandrad had already funneled magic into his limbs, allowing him to safely keep his balance. He continued to stare smugly at the so-called Dark Mistress, even as portions of her body melted into the floor and began to expand towards him. "Your mistake is thinking you can defeat me in my own home. But I know these halls and rooms front to back,” Vandrad hissed as he brought his hands together, forming a bright orb of magic in the space between and launching it into the room. The aspect curled away from the light and screeched, even as Vandrad’s aura sparked to life around him and he shot down the hallway. The figure exploded from the room, demolishing the wall that held the door and gave chase, an ocean of inky darkness in hot pursuit.

Outside the Incursion, Ruman shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I can feel two powers against one another. Vandrad has engaged whatever it is Faera is throwing at him. This is… far more difficult than I would have expected.”

“You were expecting something easy?” Izrael hissed at him, still able to keep up her snark in spite of her focus. Yet exertion was showing on her face too, beads of sweat dotting her brow and beginning to gently roll down the side of her face. “It was inside Faera. It has all the same hatred and anger she does. Just… keep it in your box, okay? It’s wriggling like a caught animal.”

“Can you tell if Vandrad is winning?” Cedric asked. He’d moved up to stand beside Ruman, closer to the edge of the viewing area and, by extension, closer to the incursion.

“There has been no fluctuation on either side. We’ll know Vandrad has been successful when we feel a drop in Faera’s power. The Ark will have absorbed the portion it needs to weaponize. When that moment comes, we will release the Incursion,” Ruman explained.

What may have felt like mere minutes for Vandrad had been nearly double that for everyone outside. Though Cedric hadn’t assumed that the king would be able to pop inside and steal a cup of Faera within seconds, he’d hoped for more progress in the near twenty minutes since he’d been trapped. “Come on, Vandrad. What the hell is happening in there?”

Back within the Incursion, the chase was on and intensifying. Vandrad weaved through the halls of his former home, the unending dark figure right on his heels. Extensions of Faera’s mass rushed ahead of it, shooting up on the walls, ceiling and floor and trying to reach out with dark, smoky fingers to grab the king. Vandrad would turn and unleash a blast of magic at the limbs that sought to ensnare him, vaporizing them and earning a pained shriek from the mass. Yet other extensions took on different forms that were then launched ahead of him, manifesting into smaller humanoid figures he would have been shell shocked to see, were it not for his current state of mind. Damn copycats of Pergandian soldiers, raising weapons to attack him before being unceremoniously explodes into black and purple particles by one of Vandrad’s attacks. Monsters and bandits that were altogether faceless but he recognized from missions and jobs he had gone on during his time in Fairy Tail. Within the Incursion, she could pluck from his memories and attempt to harm him with hostile visages he’d already brought to heel.

Vandrad exploded through the doors to the last hallway, emerging into the grand ballroom of the manor. The mineral-fabricated room had been used for countless parties and balls, its openness perfect for elegant gatherings and, in this instance, fighting a dark mass. The king flipped over himself and landed on the ground, his boots skidding over the polished gemstone before coming to a stop. The dark form was rushing towards the entryway he had just emerged from, leaving itself no room to maneuver. The king smirked as he brought his hands together once more and unleashed a stronger ray of magic that rushed towards the approaching figure, catching it by surprise and swallowing it up in the explosive aftermath of their collision.

Dark smoke billowed out from the doorway but no aspect followed. Vandrad curled his hands into fists. "You’ll come to heel, monster. And I will take what is mi-agh!” In the middle of establishing himself as the winner, pain rushed up his leg. It was so crippling that it knocked him down to one knee but his agony was mixed with a sudden wash of panic. It was a familiar pain, a sinister acquaintance that he had almost completely forgotten.

“Monster, am I? Why, pet, I believe the only monstrosity here is you.”

That voice. Every hair on his body stood on end as a rippling dread pimpled down his spine. His eyes went as wide as saucers, even as his vision began to narrow into near tunnel vision. He should have known. The mockery of turning him into a child, of returning him to the manor -- the clues were right in front of him and yet he’d missed them. Or perhaps he had intentionally overlooked them, forced himself not to believe that this power, this damned magical power, would reach into the graveyard of his memories and pluck the thrice-sealed casket of his worst nightmare from its resting place. Completely paralyzed, Vandrad could only stare as the smoky remains of his attack shifted and a shadow of a figure walked through it. The all-too-familiar clacking of heels on the smooth floor invoking memories he had kept locked away for so long as the outline pressed forward and out from the smoke.

The regal, floral gown as vibrant as the hibiscus its color had been molded from. Its sequins as unmarred and shining as the day they had been crafted. The gold tassels that swung gently, mockingly, from the aureate chain around her waist. The small black choker that wrapped so tight around her neck. Onyx waves pouring from her head, hanging down over her shoulders like a self-grown cloak. The enchanting silver eyes that somehow gleamed with light but were as dead a corpse. The black lipstick painted lips that curled ever so slightly into a smirk that could curdle milk. Vandrad wasn’t just in his child-like body anymore, he felt like he was a child again under the amused, yet scornful gaze of Beatrix du Wolff.

She chuckled behind closed, pursed lips. “Look at the little mutant bastard, playing dress up like a hero. How adorable for someone so ignoble,” Beatrix cooed at him before she snapped. Another streak of pain rushed up Vandrad’s other leg, summoning another yelp of pain from him even as he collapsed onto the ground. He only managed to catch himself with his hands. “Come to slay the big, scary beastie again, have you? One attempt wasn’t quite enough to sate that thirst of yours? So here you are, plunging into the deepest, darkest pits to try and prove… what? That you’re some paragon of light that can wrestle control of the darkness? Tsk, tsk, pet; did you forget? You are nothing,” she chastised him, snapping again. The streak of pain shot through Vandrad’s arm, sending him crashing to the ground.

"This… this is just a figment…” Vandrad seethed softly, his former self trying to push through the fear. He tried to push himself up with his one good arm before the expectant shot of pain came searing through the limb. But when he fell, something wrapped around his throat and yanked him upwards. The darkness had returned, having manifested behind him and a loop of it had tied itself around his neck and hoisted him up. He choked loudly, his hands crawling up his own body to try and grab at the inky shadow, to try and pry it off of him. But there was Beatrix, right in front of him. The sight of her again, being so close, made his blood run cold and his attempts to fight back seemed to die at his core.

She reached forward and took his face in her hand, squashing his cheers together. “Am I? You sure sound confident, my little ugly bastard. Maybe you’re right; maybe I’m just some imaginary creation to try and take what little courage you claim to have away so that you can be overwhelmed and, rightfully, destroyed. What a thought; that all that happiness that came after you smote me was real and true. How truly wonderful for you; the parricidal insect gets his happy ending.” She pondered as she squeezed and moved his face about, making grand, dramatic motions with her free hand. Each time the limb swung close, Vandrad winced and stiffened, anxious for the agony he knew she could provide building with each partial movement of her arm. And she knew it too; her smile widening with each time his body quivered, shook and jerked in anticipation.

It came at the end of her speech, the old familiar snap. His nerve endings lit aflame through all four limbs, causing his body to quake violently and a pained gargle to escape from his mouth. The darkness held firm, even seeming to squeeze tighter around his neck as he squirmed. When the pain came to a stop, his face fell but was quickly snatched by her again, this time in a more formidable grip. “Or perhaps you will accept reality. That this right here is your life; pain, just as you deserve. These memories of a wife, a family, of friends you can rely on, they are figments of your mind. Pathetic attempts to escape the punishment you deserve for existing. You filthy mother couldn’t do one thing right for our family and keep her legs closed, to prevent any further mutations from infecting our honor. But no, she had to make like the crop in the spring and add further insult to my family. And our reward is you; pathetic, weak you.” She hissed and cursed in his face, her anger barely suppressed as she sneered at him. “Then again, you have proven a reliable output for my frustrations so I suppose you aren’t completely useless. But make no mistakes, my little ugly duckling, there is no happy ending for you. All you have to look forward to is more time with me, reminding me of what you are. Now… if I recall… there was one particular spot on your lower back that really got you going…”

Her grin widened as she snapped and Vandrad’s entire world filled with pain. It ran up his spine and shot to every nerve within his body. His pained cry echoed out into the empty hall around them, which had slowly been disappearing into darkness. His entire body went rigid before slumping down, spit dripping from his open mouth. "Mer…cury…” he said softly.

“Sorry, pet. No such person. A mere fabrication. Oh, I do so feel awful to burst your happy little bubble. But there is no escape from the dark, Vandrad. You were born into it; unfathomably brought into existence by a fluke, a chance that never should have happened. And I will be there always to remind you that you do not get to bask in the light. You do not get to find warmth or comfort because you do not deserve them. You are worthless, inconsequential, allowed to breathe because I find humor in letting you try and crawl towards hope, towards ‘the light’,” she said, dramatically making air quotes in the air. “Accept your fate, Vandrad. Forever stuck here in the darkness, where I get to play. And you know I do so love the sound of your screams.” The darkness behind Vandrad began to bubble, becoming viscous and liquid as it began to swallow up the king. “Welcome back to reality, pet. The only reality you have. The only reality you deserve.”

She was right, of course. The pain she inflicted on him had come roaring back to the front of his mind like an inferno and had seemingly overwhelmed all sense and logic. Suddenly he questioned everything, especially his own memories. Why hadn’t the Ark activated throughout all this time? Why hadn’t he used more than the bare minimum of his Energy Monarch magic? Things he thought he could do, reasons he believed he was there and they all lacked proof he could actively put his finger on. Had he made it all up? Had forty years of time simply been the manifestation of a child, trying to escape the torturous life that he seemed doomed to live in forever? Beatrix was exactly the kind to let him lose himself in a fantasy, only to rip it out from under him and bring him crashing back down. His eyes had gone dead and emotionless as the inky darkness poured over his face and swallowed him up. His body disappeared further and further, until only a single hand remained outside the bubbling shadow. And then, like the rest, it sunk in and disappeared.

For a second, Vandrad accepted the darkness. He stopped clinging to the light, gripping onto the idea that he could overcome the shadow and wrest it under his control. He embraced the inner darkness that came from the scars on his soul. And it was in that second that his body was finally, truly ready to take in the power that was attempting to crush him. The Ark surged to life and from the black, bubbling mass, a hand shot out and grabbed Beatrix by the throat. The surprised woman stared into the shadowy wall as a smoky black figure that resembled an adult Vandrad crawled out from the unfathomable deep. A glowing red ‘M’ burned brightly on his forehead as he pulled her close aggressively, slamming their brows together as his eyes, empty of pupil and as deep as the void, stared back at her. A wicked, evil grin plastered his face as he laughed at her. "You’re right,” the echoing voice of the modern Vandrad tore through the empty darkness around them. "I was escaping. Hiding from the truth of my past and thinking I could beat it with brawn and might. I tried to suppress my darkness, thinking I was better than it. But it does not matter what I do or where I go. You will always be a part of me. You are the darkness in my heart and in my soul.”

Beatrix’s perplexed look melted into amusement, her own malicious smile rising to meet his. “Best not forget me again, pet. Next time, I’ll tear your world to shreds,” she warned him coldly before she began to laugh. And, surprisingly, Vandrad began to laugh as well, two manic expulsions of dark humor vibrating out from the disappearing realm.

Outside the Incursion, things were bad. Izrael had held up as long as she could but it was clear that her power and control was waning. The pressure in the reality had shifted as well, the air seeming to lean towards the Incursion, as if it was a singularity seeking to pull in everything around it. “Damnit,” Izrael hissed tiredly. “I… I can’t hold it here. Her power is trying to retreat and it’s going to take Vandrad with it.”

Ruman bared his teeth in frustration. He could hypothetically attempt to take control of Izrael’s portion for a short time, if only to buy Vandrad whatever leftover opportunity there was to be gained. But the truth was that he’d felt Vandrad’s energy beginning to fade into the darkness and was concerned it would completely overwhelm him within moments. “Cedric! We have run out of time. Go and save him!”

The former Dread Master didn’t need to hear anything else, nor was he going to waste time on words. With a snap of magic, he summoned his scythe into his hand and exploded from the stands, launching himself directly towards the collected darkness. Izrael completely lost her grip on her Incursion and fell backwards, losing consciousness as well. Ruman just barely managed to wrestle control of her portion, his muscles bulging and veins erupting over his form as his own magic power began to quickly empty out. His eyes widened as he lost Vandrad’s presence within the storm of darkness. “CEDRIC! HURRY!” he boomed.

The former Dread Master came soaring in towards the Incursions, the scythe already swinging down towards it. But just before it could connect, the globe of darkness expanded outwards in a massive explosion, sending Cedric back the way he had come. The dome became a violent, dread-infusing twister of malicious power that rose up quickly towards the sky before it expanded out further and further. Themesycia jumped to her feet and put herself in front of Mercury as the outer wall of the twister swiftly approached the stands. But then it began to shrink, to pull inwards like water towards a drain. Cedric, who had managed to grab ahold of the bottom side of the stands, pulled himself up towards the edge and stared as the swirling black and purple energy shrunk down and warped into that of an aura.

And at its center stood Vandrad. His hair was a dark purple color, stiff and rigidly pointing away from him. His eyebrows were gone, leaving only his bare brow formed in a fierce stare. And his gleaming golden eyes stared at nothing in particular, a hardened scowl upon his face. But beyond all of that, the most impressive and perhaps terrifying aspect of him was the power that emanated off of him. It was unlike anything he’d shown before; miles upon miles where his magical power had been nearly an hour ago at his strongest form. He felt like an entirely new, omnipotent creature who exuded terror and dread to all who laid eyes on him. It was a force that couldn’t simply be restrained within the realm, a false harbinger of Faera seeping it into other realities, including their own.

“By the Darkness…” Ruman said softly. “He absorbed it all. He didn’t take in a portion; he took every ounce of the power she’d been stocking.”

The terrifying presence of the new Vandrad remained for a few seconds longer before the aura snapped out of existence. As it peeled off of the king, he was returned to his base form and his eyes fluttered before closing as he collapsed backwards onto the ground of the arena, unconscious and overwhelmed from the power he had taken in.

Once it was clear that the terrible, dynamic show of power had come to an end, the overwhelming weight of it far too much for Vandrad to handle and remain conscious, everything came to a standstill. At least, environmentally. The people that occupied it were still moving; Cedric had been pulled up onto the viewing pedestal with the help of Saffron and was now watching as the same woman launched herself to Vandrad’s position. Ruman, despite his awe, had moved over to help Izrael up, his massive hands easily making her look tiny in comparison. Themesycia remained by Mercury, keeping her steady even as they floated over to the coliseum grounds on one of the Silver Wolf mage’s magical constructions. Vandrad was alive, of course but completely and overwhelmingly knocked out. Yet despite how deeply unconscious he was, nothing else seemed wrong with him.

Ruman arrived over with the rest of the group, Izrael held in his hands, with Cedric following right beside. He nodded gently to Mercury’s praise and questions. “Nothing some rest won’t resolve, I am sure.”

“Easy for you to say,” Izrael spoke up with a slight groan, having regained enough of her senses to continue her usual posturing.

“I’ll admit that I still wonder if it was the right or wrong choice. Not due to anything Vandrad may or may not due but for the large contribution that was just absorbed by the Ark. The power he just showcased… it felt like Faera herself was standing before us. But if any man can bring it to heel and use it appropriately, I have the utmost faith it is the king,” Ruman spoke his thoughts aloud, his tone much softer than it had been before, almost uncomfortable for a man with his bass and size.

It seemed the other Trumpet didn’t have anything to add, probably doing her best to rein herself in after the amount of magic she had used. With Vandrad placed upon another magical construction, they were able to bring forth a gateway back to Earthland, specifically to the room they had left only an hour or so ago. But they did come into an empty room; in fact, quite the opposite. As they returned, they found it occupied by the disapproving, concerned faces of Ryori, Victoria, Serilda and Mythal. The Seal looked downright insulted, while Serilda looked more concerned than anything else. Mythal had sat himself by the table, only turning about as the group returned and looking perhaps the least bothered of the group. Ryori, however, had set herself up against the wall and stared at the group with a disapproving stare that would have made small children squirm with guilt.

“It was a matter that escalated rather quickly. We were confident in Cedric being able to stop anything going amiss. The fact that it happened there was merely coincidence. There was no intent behind it, I assure you,” Ruman explained to the Omen calmly.

“They ain’t lyin’,” Mythal spoke up, slowly getting to his feet. His gaze didn’t move towards Ryori, his thoughts and feelings towards her still far from friendly given their last interaction. He held his own original tome up in his hand.“Didn’t know we had a matchin’ pair, nor that they could send visual messages. My problem is this didn’t become a discussion first, where we all sat down and measured the risks and planned somethin’. Casually letting Kingdom Darkness out, any part of it, is dangerous.”

“Yes but it was all under control. Should things go sideways, I was ready to jump in and dissuade Faera’s power from getting too rambunctious,” Cedric clarified.

“Part of the reason this whole thing happened was because of you, Cedric. You just had to come out swingin’ with ‘we had the Ark’ rather than waitin’ for a more civilized get together,” the Rune Knight Director chastised the former Dread Master.

“They were going to find out sooner rather than later. We just thought it was pertinent to resolve the matter on our terms.”

“You mean put the two of them through a test of faith and commitment? See if they were really sellin’ what they claim they are?” Mythal clarified, nodding to the two Trumpets.

Cedric shrugged. “Two birds, one stone, as the saying goes. If it’s any consolation, they performed remarkably.”

Mythal sighed and shook his head, even as his gaze shifted to Ruman. “You know, you could have just asked Vandrad for a fight. Man’s willin’ to put every fiber of his bein’ into any fight if you ask it of him. You didn’t need to antagonize him.”

“That’s what I said… basically,” Izrael spoke up, managing to get enough strength to pry herself from Ruman’s hold and get down onto her own two feet. “It’s like the blonde girl said. Couldn’t sheathe their dicks for five seconds.”

“My apologies, Darkness King. I was simply following the warrior’s code that comes from my position. I take full responsibility for all of the events that occurred.” Ruman stated, bowing his head in responsibility.

"Enough,” Vandrad’s voice spoke up from the gurney, the king rousing from his state. He swung his legs over the side of the magical construction and planted his feet firmly on the ground. Taking only a fraction of a second to steady himself, he looked up at the faces in the groom. "The decision was mine to make. These two outlined our options and the quickly disintegrating window of opportunity we had and I decided to act rather than to gather people for another discussion that could have short changed us. I understand that we’ve had several different meetings about different subjects, keeping everyone in the loop and making plans on what to do in the future. And they have proved fruitful, as I’m sure future meetings will as well. But we were on a time table and we could ill afford to lose an opportunity like this.”

He turned his gaze to Victoria, unblemished by her stare. "This was not ego but a tactical decision. Something I’ve learned through my years with war and under my tutelage with you. We do not always have the leisure of time waiting for us to forum a decision. And I was confident that what I had learned from the two of you would assist me in completing my task,” he explained, glancing over at Ryori as well.

He gestured to Cedric. "I trusted him to handle the matter if things went awry, as I did Saffron and my mother. And if there’s anything I’ve learned from this buffoon, it’s that one cannot train to use a weapon without possessing said weapon. We lacked a tool that could be waged against Faera reliably and when I saw the opportunity to get possession of one, I took it. An act I am sure that either one of you would have done as well without the need of council or communal opinion. And as king, I must take every precaution to protect my people and as a man, I must do what I can to secure the security of my loved ones.”

He winced slightly, the first sign he showed of the overwhelming exhaustion he still felt through his entire body. He reached back to lean on the gurney for support. "The matter is done. Now we can attempt to refine this weapon so that when another window opens, one that leads to Faera directly, we can strike hard and assuredly. But if you’re going to levy fault on anyone, put it on me. But do not expect an apology. I stand by my decision and believe you all would have done the exact same thing were you in my shoes.”