Lunar Age, Present Day
~ 300 years after the Schism

- Kato -

Kato and Ansgar stepped from the darkness between Crystallos and the human realm. The two were, as always, different as night and day, but now there was something different. Kato was the one smiling. Ansgar stood with his arms in his sleeves, tense and shaking.

"Don't look so frightened," Kato told Ansgar. "This is true freedom!"

Ansgar said nothing. Kato clapped him roughly on the shoulder.

"Come, Ansgar, how does it feel? Say, why don't we make this a contest?" Kato's lips spread into a wider grin, showing his white teeth. Ansgar shrugged off the Illusionist's touch. "Shall we say, the one who gets the most of those damned archers? Or the one who lasts longer against them?"

Ansgar shot Kato a glaring look, his eyes like ice. Kato shrugged, but never lost his maniacal grin.

"Well, suit yourself. I am certainly not going to hold back!" Lifting his amethyst staff, Kato sliced through the air with it, creating another rift, this one smaller. With a smirk towards Ansgar, he disappeared.

Kato reappeared above the large city, which housed both Déchu and Ungifted humans. Temporarily released from his stoic countenance, Kato laughed with mad glee as he unleashed his magic upon the cathedral below. He delighted in making the archers below him run about in terror. His illusion auras fooled even the Déchu's great Sight in most cases, turning neighbor upon neighbor as they saw their nightmares come to life. Kato did not announce his presence fairly, either, as undoubtedly Ansgar had. No, he was an Illusionist. He did not care for the straightforwardness of honorable battle. He kept himself hidden, wrapped up in a cloak of shadows and Crystallos magic.

"The last thing they see will be my face," he cackled, arms wide. "And the last thing they hear will be their own dying screams!"

You enjoy this almost a little too much, laughed the voice inside him.

'So do you,' observed Kato. Aloud, he called, "I will bring your nightmares to life until you die from fear!"

The game had been getting boring, however. No one had found him yet. With a grandiose sigh, he dispelled the magic hiding him from view, and there were even more shouts and screams as those below finally saw him.

"What is it?" shouted someone in horror.

The Ungifted who could not see him still turned their faces skyward, trying to follow where the Déchu were pointing. A new host of archers appeared, bows aimed straight for him, but Kato only grinned.

"Oh, yes," he exclaimed. "Let us test our true strength now!"

Afterwards, when it was finished, Kato stood in the center of the ruined town. He had razed it completely, and everything had gone deathly still. There was no blood; not from any battle wounds that Kato had inflicted. But there was fire, and it raged. Each body lay crooked and bent, or kneeling. Those whose eyes were still open stared blankly, mouths twisted in eternal, silent screams. Kato had spared no one, without hesitation. Ungifted and Déchu alike fell victim to his magic. Kato wondered, briefly, if any nearby cathedrals had felt the death of this one. Kato had not only razed it but had severed its link to the Stream entirely. Should he wait for more to come? More archers to torture?

An itching in the back of his mind brought him back to reality. He was suddenly very tired, and he needed to return to Crystallos.

Yes, came one of the voices in his mind. Let us return to Crystallos. There will always be more cathedrals to burn.

Kato laughed, low and deep in his chest and agreed. He reached out with his staff and slowly pulled apart the air itself, forming a rift back to Crystallos.

- Ansgar -

After Kato left, Ansgar sighed. He did not feel so different from before, but maybe he was just not as insane as Kato was. Ansgar looked around. A large Déchu city lay quietly sleeping below him. There were no Ungifted towns nearby, so there was no risk of casualties. The cathedral was easy enough to spot. Ansgar took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He lifted his anatase staff, which he transformed into a great war scythe. He swung it downwards, channeling his energy into the anatase blade.

He waited three breaths; then the cathedral exploded, as if hit with an invisible force. Screaming erupted and Déchu scurried on the ground. Ansgar waited. The voices below spoke in a language that was such a distant memory to him now. He found himself almost having difficulty understanding it. Eyes below glowed gold and they scanned the area before turning towards the sky. More shouting erupted as dozens of bright, golden bows formed out of the Stream, molded by the archer's hands.

'Osi,' Ansgar called softly as arrows sped towards him.

We are here, came the anima's reply. We will not leave you.

Ansgar twirled his war scythe, and as he did, transformed it into a longsword. He leaped from the stream, meeting the holy arrows head-on, deflecting them with his anatase weapon, or dodging them entirely. Ansgar landed on his feet, sword swinging. He sliced open two archers' stomachs and felled a third with a thrust through her ribcage. Ansgar did not notice the blood splattering onto his clothes or skin.

He would kill every one, he knew this with cold certainty. He hated them, and he hated himself almost as much. He would keep hunting them, knowing he would never be satisfied until they were all gone, or at least had been so decimated they could no longer be considered the 'guardians' of the world. They did not deserve such a privilege.

The Parisii are no better, Ansgar thought bitterly as he moved gracefully through the host of archers, cutting them down one after another. Not really. The Élu would be better off without the Parisii guiding them.

"We'll bring them all down," he whispered to himself. "First the Déchu. Then the Parisii Order. And the Élu can live in peace."

Ansgar raised his staff above his head, and it became a war scythe again. He took a deep breath and swung it once more in a wide arc. Buildings crumbled and the last echoes of the archers' screams filled the night.

When silence finally fell, Ansgar walked through the rubble and splintered wood of the cathedral. He treaded softly, kicking a few large pieces of stone out of his way. One stone rolled a long way, and Ansgar heard a sharp gasp nearby. He jerked his head to the left and narrowed his eyes. The gasp turned to sobs. With careful steps, he turned and followed the sound, and when he found the source, his instinct told him to raise his scythe. The younger of the two children screamed while the older one tried to silence him. Ansgar's hand trembled. They had not awakened their power yet, it seemed.

Osi, Ansgar begged.

We are here, Osi replied, and Ansgar's scythe returned to his rough-hewn anatase staff form. He did not speak to the children but looked pointedly in the direction of the soon to be rising sun. Then he turned on his heel and stalked off.

He sensed the attack before it came. Ansgar whirled around, deflecting the arrow of bright golden light. The older boy's eyes glowed and he was breathing heavily, wisps of golden light fading out.

"I gave you the opportunity to run," Ansgar told them. "You should've run."

It happened too fast for the boy to register, but this time as Ansgar walked away, he was certain no Déchu had been left alive. He had only taken a few steps, however, when a gust of wind picked up, and Grand Master Emyr appeared out of thin air. Ansgar looked up from the ground to meet the cool, grey eyes of the elder mage.

"What are you doing here?" asked Ansgar.

Emyr's eyes seemed full of pity. "I should ask you the same question," Emyr responded, gesturing around them. "I hoped to speak with you. It's been months, and no word."

"It's not as if my coming or going would have been easy." Ansgar felt his anger rising, but he squashed it down. "Besides, I'm not your agent anymore, Grand Master. I've cut my ties. Can't you see that?"

"I refuse to believe it," Emyr said, taking a step forward.

"Then you'll die like them," Ansgar said simply. His staff broke apart into a dozen anatase daggers. He twirled one of them around his knuckles. "I hardly think it'll be a fair fight."

"Then you underestimate me," Emyr huffed. "Where is Siena?"

Ansgar frowned and stopped juggling his knives. "It's your fault she's involved in the first place," he said, his voice now dangerously quiet. "So you can just go on back to Lutèce and stay out of our way."

"You know I can't do that," said Emyr.

"Do you know what I've had to do to keep her safe?" A flash of anger ripped through Ansgar, and something must have shown on his face, because Emyr's eyes widened, and he took a step back from shock. Ansgar shook his head, willing away the irritation. Anger made it stronger.

"Why can't you just leave the world to its fate?" Ansgar demanded. "The time of Déchu rule is done! We are paving the way for Élu to take their rightful place here!"

Emyr shook his head. "How could the Parisii stand by and let you slaughter hundreds of Déchu? We may not be at peace, but we are no longer at war!" The wind around them swirled and grew stronger. "It is not our place to interfere in the world, Ansgar. We merely watch over it."

"Yet we do not belong to it! How many Élu children are lost each year because the Parisii drags its feet to get to them? Because they are deemed casualties in keeping the peace with the Déchu?"

Emyr stepped towards Ansgar again, and Ansgar took an equal step back. "Don't do this," Emyr pleaded. "Don't force my hand."

"It's only you," Ansgar said, looking around. "Did you actually intend to bring me in? Alone?"

"No one else knows I'm here. I had hoped there was still some reason left in you."

Ansgar laughed. "The moment Siena was pulled into this was the moment all reason left me. And I blame you for that, Grand Master."

"She was going to find out one way or another," pressed Emyr.

"I guess now we'll never know." Ansgar's anatase daggers floated around him. "Last warning, Emyr. Leave."

Emyr gripped his staff. "I am more than capable of taking you down."

Ansgar flipped his dagger into the air, where it merged with the rest of them and transformed into a halberd. Ansgar caught it with a grand flourish and pointed it at Emyr. "Shall we see about that, then?"

Emyr lifted his polished beryl staff and the wind howled and moaned around them. Ansgar shielded his eyes with one arm, though they had already begun to water from the force of the wind. He smirked. He could fight Emyr blind, what did a little wind matter? Still, Ansgar had never really understood how non-Elementalists could gain such control over an element in the first place. Weapons mages rarely had an elemental affinity, but it was common among the other schools of magic.

Emyr attacked first, and Ansgar was equally surprised by the old man's speed. He brought his halberd up in time to block Emyr's sudden attack. The beryl staff slammed against the anatase poleaxe and Emyr bore down on Ansgar with surprising strength.

"Conjuration: Copier," Emyr said.

The beryl staff glowed and Ansgar's eyes widened as Emyr's staff transformed into an identical halberd. Ansgar's shock intensified when Emyr appeared to wield it perfectly, hooking Ansgar's weapon and nearly pulling it from his grip. Ansgar was forced onto the defensive as Emyr charged.

"Armement: Faux de guerre," Ansgar commanded.

The halberd twisted into a war scythe again. Ansgar glared at Emyr for a moment before he charged. Emyr, despite being three times Ansgar's age, kept up with the Weapons Master well, matching Ansgar strike for strike.

"So, you can copy your opponent's skill as well as their weapon? How useful," commented Ansgar.

Emyr smirked. "It suited me well in the Schism. But you know I detest fighting."

"Then why fight me?" Ansgar shouted over the roar of the wind as he shoved against Emyr. He swung at the Grand Master's feet with his war scythe. Emyr stabbed the ground with the head of his halberd and jumped, using the poleaxe to swing himself around behind Ansgar. As he moved, he reached out and tapped the anatase scythe.

"Conjuration: Voler," he whispered.

Ansgar's weapon glowed brightly, and the Battlemage skipped away, but the spell had been cast. The anatase scythe reverted to its original form while Emyr's beryl halberd transformed into the war scythe. Emyr was breathing heavily. Ansgar could see the man's age catching up to his magic.

"Why are we wasting time here?" demanded Ansgar. "I didn't want to fight you in the first place!"

"Unfortunately," Emyr said between breaths, "it is no longer your call to make."

"Armement: Hallebarde!" Ansgar called, but nothing happened.

"Your magic is sealed. Maybe only for a few minutes, but it's enough for us to talk. Or for me to end it." Emyr raised the scythe. All traces of the kindness etched into his grandfatherly features were gone as he swung the scythe at Ansgar.

Ansgar cartwheeled away, his momentum bringing him behind Emyr. Faster than Emyr could move, Ansgar swiped his staff low, kicking Emyr's legs out from under him, and hit him hard across the shoulders. Emyr stumbled forward and tried to spin but lost his balance and fell backwards.

"Don't think I can't fight just because I can't summon a blade. You're too old, Emyr. And me? I'm in my prime." Emyr reached for his staff, but Ansgar knocked it away with his own and pressed the rough tip to Emyr's chest. "So don't interfere anymore."

Then Ansgar stepped back, far out of reach of the Grand Master, but Emyr made no move to get his staff.

"They were children, Ansgar!"

Ansgar looked at him, feeling empty. "So was I," he said softly.

Emyr closed his eyes and struggled to sit up. His head hung and he rubbed his face with one hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what?" spat Ansgar.

"For not being the one who found you, lost, in that bloodbath. Sorry that Günay was the one who plucked you out of there and brought you to Lutèce. Everything might have been so different."

Ansgar was quiet. "And would you have said the same to Kato? Or to the countless others Günay 'rescued?' Do you know what happened to them?" Emyr's brow furrowed. "Thought so. Kato and I were the only ones strong enough to survive."

"I don't understand," Emyr began.

"Doesn't matter," Ansgar said with a shrug. He turned to leave but paused. With a deep breath, he said, "There may still be a way for me to save Siena. But it won't be easy. She's Günay's prisoner, not mine."

Once again Ansgar turned to leave but this time it was Emyr who stopped him. "We know about Günay's experiments. Some of them, at least. Is there nothing else you can give me, anything that gives us a fighting chance?" Ansgar regarded him coolly and allowed his anger to swirl. Emyr's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "No, it can't be."

"At least Yvain was able to pass along my message. I honestly wondered if he would." Ansgar's magic swirled around him. "There's nothing else I can say. I couldn't say it now, even if I wanted to. Just my talking to you puts Siena in danger now. Prepare for war, Grand Master. It's coming."

With that, Ansgar slicedthe air with his anatase staff, and a rift opened. He glanced over his shoulderat Emyr'sface, frozen with fear, and disappeared into the between.