Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They were rebuilding the wall. Kurogane passed by the work crews on his way in, gangs of artisans and laborers working busily to shape and haul stone from the quarries to the work site, the battlefield of the last desperate stand against the invasion of demons. Pieces of the shattered wall had landed sometimes as much as half a mile away, when the brutal tide of inhuman monsters had crashed upon the barrier; some of the stone could be recovered and reused, but much of it was too shattered and damaged to be worth the effort, and simply left where it lay.
 
The sight of the shattered stone, the abandoned fields and roads growing over with weeds, reminded Kurogane painfully of his homeland; but the sight of the workers swarming busily around the broken wall, passing back and forth over the road, was reassuring. The destruction was only temporary, until the wall had been rebuilt sufficiently that they could turn their efforts to less important things. And once the protections were sufficiently in place, then the farmers and peasants, too, could return and clear the fallow fields, take up habitation once more. This land would heal, unlike shattered Suwa.
 
Although with the death of the Master of Demons, and the hope -- someday -- that they could be rid of the monsters once and for all… perhaps it was no longer necessary to leave Suwa abandoned. Could it be rebuilt someday, a new city paved over the ruins, new settlers brought in to take over the land from those who had died? The thought hurt, but maybe it was time.
 
Perhaps his gutted lands could provide new homes for the people who had been driven out of the conquered provinces of northern Nihon, displaced by the war and unable to ever return. As the last living member of the clan of Suwa, he had some say in how the land could be used, although the Empress' decision would be final. Perhaps he would mention it to Amaterasu when he got back. He was developing a very long list of chores to attend to after he got back.
 
For now he watched the building of the wall, stopping to rest his horse -- and himself -- in the shade of a poplar tree by the road. It felt good to relax for a moment, leaning his weary body and aching limbs against the tree trunk; more good to be back among people again. The scene before him was like a little slice of Nihon society, the tents of the building site arrayed according to status. There were the peasants -- unskilled laborers hauling rocks under the direction of the overseers; the artisans -- professional builders and stoneworkers hired from the cities to fulfill this contract; and the warriors -- members of the samurai class clustered about the border of the work camp, keeping a nervous eye out for any oni attack.
 
And because the new walls had to be warded with spells of protection and strength, there were also miko on the site, doing the rituals as each stone was slotted into place to link it into a net of protection that encircled all Nihon. He only caught sight of one of them in their white kimono and red hakama, but he knew that others must be nearby, retired to the cool shade of the largest and most decorated of the tents.
 
One of them must be the Kishuu miko, the one he'd heard about from the messenger from Arisugawa; the one who had stayed to face down the invasion of oni alone. He would have liked to meet her, but he had no inclination to interrupt or hinder their work in any way. The sooner they finished the wall, the sooner he could go home.
 
And he was more than ready to go home. Hunting oni was nothing new to him; in the years since Suwa's destruction he'd spent more time prowling the wilderness to seek out and dispatch the monsters than he had safely behind stone walls. But he'd been guarding the southern wall near the breach relentlessly, day and night, for more than eight weeks, and the strain was wearing down his reserves. He'd not been at his best even to start with. He'd come here immediately after his difficult journey through demon-infested territory to the far west, which had culminated in the ordeal of facing -- and finally defeating -- the Master of Demons.
 
His thoughts were diverted to brood on this, as it often had been over the past two months. His hand stole to the carefully wrapped package he kept with him at all times, feeling the sharp edge of that madman's amulet even through the thick leather. Father, he thought, as he he had thought many times before; I have finally avenged you. Is your spirit at peace now? He could only hope so. He made no such prayer to his mother's spirit, though. He knew he hadn't avenged her yet.
 
But the heart of his dragging depression, the feeling like a hole in his midsection that drained his energy and robbed his bittersweet victory of triumph, had nothing to do with his parents or Suwa or demons or even the death of the Master. It was the memory of the companion who had hunted demons together with him, the warrior who had fought side-by-side against unmentionable horrors, the lover he'd been forced to part with. As usual, the problem was Fai.
 
Or rather, it was not having Fai. He'd barely known the man six months, barely been in his presence for a total of a few weeks; how could the annoying mage have come to feel like a part of his body, that his absence was so keenly felt? In some ways he resented that -- his association with Fai had drained him, both in body and soul, demanding that he give of himself in ways that he never had before. Required him to donate everything up to and including his blood, and left him feeling incomplete and empty when they parted. And yet, for all that he'd sacrificed for Fai, he felt like a greater man than when he started, and he knew he'd gladly do it again.
 
Fai had gone back to Ceres, and he'd come here; both their loyalties had demanded it. It had been the right decision for both of them, and Kurogane did not usually waste time second-guessing his actions. But it couldn't free him from the feelings of loneliness, of frustration and anger at the circumstances that had forced them apart. Of resentment at the duties that kept him bound here while he wondered how his lover fared. If he had gotten home safely, if he had been welcomed by his family and colleagues, if he was taking care of himself properly. If he had fed, like he'd promised he would.
 
Kurogane blew out a long, slow breath. The blustery spring day seemed to waver and dim in front of his eyes, gray ripples spreading through the image like a stone dropped in a pond. He was tired, dangerously tired, and he knew it. Normally he took better care of himself, carefully managing his strength and stamina to last as long as possible; but no matter how many rest breaks he took, it didn't seem to make a dent on this fatigue.
 
He'd rest now, and go back out into the woods later tonight. Decision made, Kurogane sank gratefully to the ground, relieving the weight from his aching feet. His horse grazed peacefully nearby, unconcerned by any demonic alarm, but Kurogane still could not trust in his surroundings enough to let his guard down. He settled into a seated position, one knee drawn up for balance -- and a quick spring from the ground should it be necessary -- with both his swords within easy reach. His head dropped forward to rest against his chest, and his eyes slid closed; he slept.
 
He never allowed himself more than a light doze when he was on patrol, and his sleep was even more fitful than usual. A deep, gluey exhaustion battled with overstrung, weary nerves. He kept sinking down towards a deeper sleep, body relaxing from its ready posture; then a tight spike of urgency would shoot through his dreaming mind, yanking him back up into place again. Formless, anxious images swam through his sleeping mind, images of mist-demons coming towards him like fish battling against an upstream current, only to vanish when he swiped at them and re-form elsewhere.
 
When the alarm first penetrated his consciousness and jerked him out of slumber, he was on his feet and had his sword drawn and ready before he even realized that he was truly awake this time, and not just a continuation of his half-waking nightmare. He squinted, and made out the blurry form of two human figures, standing frozen in mid-step a safe distance away from him.
 
"Erghr," he said eloquently, and rubbed his face against the cloth of his shoulder, trying to clear the fog from his mind. He squinted harder and lowered the tip of his sword slightly as the details began to fall into place.
 
He'd been wakened by the approach of two men, tall and sturdy but with open, blooming boy's faces that made him feel positively old. Gah. Nobody should have that much cheerful energy this early in the… afternoon. "What do you want?" he said, voice coming out as a tired growl.
 
"You're -- ah -- Kurogane Demon-Queller?" the darker one said, clearing his throat tentatively.
 
"What of it?" He took in the clothes of the two men. They both wore tabards in the colors of the Shukaido clan's district, far to the east of Nihon territory. Under that, they were dressed in armor made of heavy, dark iron, overlapping plates… and they wore the badges of Tomoyo's special guard. Demon-hunters. But not ones he recognized. "Who are you?"
 
The brown-haired boy grinned, apparently taking Kurogane's question as a gesture far more friendly than he'd intended. "We're the Shukaido Defenders! I'm Shukaido Takeshi, and he's Kunimaru Kentarou. We've been in training for years to learn to stalk and fight the evil oni, and bring peace to our fair land forever!"
 
"Ah." It was the boasting as much as the names that made the associations fall into place. The boys from East Kunimaru, right. "Eri's apprentices."
 
"That's right!" Kentarou chimed in, leaning in with a charming smile. "She told you about us?"
 
"Yeah, a few times." Normally in the context of excoriating their persistent incompetence and ridiculous posturing, but she had indeed mentioned them. Takeshi and Kentarou, or, as he'd heard them described for their clumsy antics, the Duck Defenders. He wondered now, as he'd wondered then, how on earth they'd settled on the idea of hunting demons as a career.
 
Still, he acknowledged, Eri was no fool. No matter how loud or frequent her criticisms, she would have kicked them to the curb long ago if they hadn't shown some promise. He'd reserve judgment until he actually saw them in action; but until then, he was willing to accept them, however provisionally, as his colleagues. "… all right," he said slowly, and as he lowered his aching arm the two boys breathed a sigh of relief. "What does Eri want?" Last he'd heard she was on a long patrol out in the East, traveling through the semi-civilized lands marginally claimed by Nihon, and hadn't been able to return in time to assist the war effort.
 
"Oh, Sensei didn't send us," Takeshi said seriously. "We came from Shirasagi Castle. We brought a message from the High Priestess for you. She specifically told us to find you and give it to you first thing."
 
"Yeah?" He tried for a nonchalant tone, but despite his best efforts, his heart began to beat faster and his mouth went dry. At least it woke him up. "What does Tomoyo want me to do now?"
 
Kentarou leaned around his taller companion, his tone and expression serious. "She said," he recited precisely, "that your duty here is done, and you are hereby relieved; and it's time for you to go home."
 
Kurogane straightened and stared at them in disbelieving shock. "But -- the wall is still --"
 
"We rode a circuit to check it out first thing," Takeshi said, and Kentarou nodded emphatically. "All of the smaller breaks have been repaired already, and rewoven into the main net of wards. This is the only large breach remaining, so any attacks will be funneled into a chokepoint that is easily defended even by a small number of warriors."
 
Kurogane was impressed by the boy's strategic logic, at least until Kentarou added with a straightforward tone, "That's what the Empress said, anyway."
 
"And we're here to take over!" Takeshi said ebulliently. "You can leave everything to us. We'll guard the gates, and any oni who try to sneak past us will get a double surprise! One that's named the Shukaido Defenders!"
 
In a movement so practiced it almost seemed unconscious, the two of them struck a noble, dramatic back-to-back pose. Kurogane stared at them, and wondered whether he dared leave such an important operation in the hands of such green, posturing and untried warriors. "Look," he said. "Maybe I should stay on, if just for a day or two, to show you the lay of the land…"
 
"Oh no," Takeshi said in a steely voice. "The Tsukuyomi said you should go home, and that's exactly what you're going to do! We wouldn't dare disobey her orders!"
 
"Besides," Kentarou said with a straight face and sweet tone that was either incredibly disingenuous, or incredibly dumb. "You're getting pretty old you know, for a demon hunter, you're really showing the strain of your age. It's just about time for younger hands to take over the burden, don't you think?"
 
On the other hand, Kurogane decided, maybe he didn't give a damn if both these idiots got eaten before the night was out. He turned towards his horse, making swift work of reloading the few bags he'd unpacked and pulling the animal away from its peaceful grazing, ruthlessly ignoring its balky complaints. The horse was just as tired from the long patrols as he was, but that was just too bad.
 
He left the work site after a few words with the head overseer and the eldest miko, letting them know of the Tsukuyomi's new orders and the change of the guard. Then he was on his horde and urging it to a weary trot over the grass-covered roads, north towards Edo. Towards home.
 
But though his face swung north like a compass needle, it wasn't for his comfortable house in the noble's district in Edo that he kicked his horse a little bit too eagerly into motion. It wasn't for the prospect of hot baths and soft beds, real food and a chance to finally relax, nor even for the company of his student and the presence of his liege lord.
 
He'd come back when called, he'd done his duty and protected the southern border against oni in their most vulnerable hour. Now that was done, and they could spare his sword once again… he was free to move at will. Maybe even back to Ceres, and back to Fai.
 
But not yet. No. Not yet. Not while he had one duty left to discharge.
 
---------------
 
 
This time, Amaterasu summoned him to the grand receiving chamber inside the palace; just as well, as the streets and courtyards were drumming with heavy rain. He'd come directly to the palace, wanting to get this audience over with as soon as possible. He was a little -- not nervous exactly, but wary of what her reaction to him would be, and he didn't like being on the defensive this way.
 
Never for a moment did Kurogane doubt his own duty, question whether he'd done the right thing as a slayer of demons and protector of his country. But there was bad blood between him and Amaterasu, and she'd been forced to swallow many humiliations of late.
 
The war with Ceres had been an unqualified disaster for Nihon. What everyone had assumed would be a quick, easy victory and absorption of a new territory into the empire's administrative morass had unexpectedly turned into the most stunning and costly defeat Nihon had experienced in decades. Not only had they lost thousands of soldiers and officers out of the army, but the Ceres army -- spearheaded by the brigade of wizards wielding deadly elemental power -- had swept south like an unstoppable tide, crushing defenses and littering the landscape with both soldier and civilian dead. Even after the cease-fire, Ceres still occupied a large chunk of Nihon's northernmost lands and showed no willingness to relinquish them. If they held them, it would be the largest loss of territory the empire had known in generations.
 
Kurogane knew that half of the Nihon nobles and generals must be enraged with the Empress for starting the war in the first place -- even if the conflict had been inevitable, it was Amaterasu's offensive that had been the starting signal. And the other half, consumed with outrage and hatred for their northern enemies, were equally furious that Amaterasu had allowed a cease-fire at all. Despite how obvious it had been that they could not stand against Ceres' unearthly offensive, many noble families of the samurai  class considered death to be better than such a defeat.
 
None of Kurogane's actions in the months leading up to the war had directly affected the outcome -- even if he had killed the wizard Flowright on their first meeting, the course of the war would have been the same. But he knew that he was too closely involved with events that had started the war for comfort, and too intimately involved with Ceres not to be tainted by association.
 
So it was with some trepidation that he handed his swords over to the guards outside the chamber, entered, and abased himself on the wooden boards of the platform. As proper ceremony dictated, he bowed until his forehead touched the floor for several long seconds, then straightened and sat back on his heels, raising his eyes to meet Kendappa's.
 
She looked tired, was his first observation; the past year seemed to have aged her by five. She was dressed in layers of robes that, while as fine and beautiful as everything the empress must wear, were simple and undecorated, as what might be worn under armor when going into battle. Her hair was tightly braided and pulled around her head in a crown, to provide padding and protection under a helmet. As usual, her younger sister Tomoyo held a platform on her right hand, and she smiled fondly at Kurogane as his eyes passed over hers. The third royal sibling, Touya, was conspicuously missing today.
 
"Your Imperial Highness, Divine Amaterasu, Highest General, Descendant of the Sun Goddess, this warrior is honored to be permitted into your divine presence." Kurogane recited the standard formalities in as neutral a tone of voice as he could manage, keeping out any trace of either fear or challenge. "I have returned from the southern border, where I was set to guard against the vicious oni, and now humbly await your further commands for me."
 
"Kurogane, Lord of Suwa, Demon-Queller," Amaterasu greeted him formally in turn. Her own voice seemed as neutral and proper as his own, and he relaxed a little bit; maybe she wouldn't take this audience as an invitation to re-open hostilities. "I greet you on your return from the borderlands of Our empire, and thank you for your efforts on Our behalf."
 
He looked quickly up to meet her eyes, a little startled. It was a rare thing for the Empress to give thanks to anyone in the samurai class; service was expected, required, and not something to be thanked. Nevertheless, it seemed his fears had been groundless, and perhaps he should have known; Amaterasu too was a warrior of the samurai, and she would not forget about obligations and honors owed because of any personal resentment or grudge. His tension eased, and he blew out a long-held fraction of a breath as he sat up straighter. "It was only my duty, Your Majesty," he said.
 
"A duty well held and carried out is not to be scorned or taken lightly in these dark days," Amaterasu said. "We have heard reports -- scattered and confused, true, but nevertheless the veracity seems to be beyond question -- that you have met with and destroyed the enemy to the west, who controlled and created the oni of the wilderness and set them to devour our people. Is this not so?"
 
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said without hesitation -- no doubt she had all the details from Tomoyo. "Sakurazakumori Seishirou, self-styled the Master of Demons, is dead. I myself witnessed his lair go up in flames, and all his evil experiments perished with him. Although some of his creations do seem to have outlived him, and continue to roam the wildlands of the East without his guidance, the Master of Demons is no more."
 
Amaterasu nodded, seeming unsurprised, and Kurogane shifted into a more comfortable position. His eyes flicked over to the court scribe, Kyle Rondart, and then away; the man seemed not to have even noticed the attention, his head bent over his paper, scribbling industriously away.
 
"Then for this great service you have done Our empire, which generations of warriors had tried and failed to do before you," Amaterasu went on, "you have Our thanks. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty to our country. Your retainer will be increased, so that you will no longer need to bring trophies from kills to fund your household. You will be remember in our histories as the greatest of demon-slayers, attaining a rank which no one hunter has ever achieved before."
 
Kurogane appreciated the sentiment, but the rank was largely empty to him, and there were more important considerations. "I am honored, Your Majesty, and humbled by your graciousness," he said, then took a breath. "But the credit is not mine alone. I was not alone when I confronted and defeated the Master of Demons, and alone I could never have overcome him. I was aided by a Wizard of Ceres -- Fai Flowright, the First Senior Wizard to King Ashura. Whatever you put in your histories, make sure you have that part right -- that without his bravery and heroic self-sacrifice along with mine, Nihon would never have been freed of this threat."
 
There was a stirring and muttering among the audience at this, resentment flowing in a dark current at the mention of those names; Kurogane did not turn his head, keeping his gaze steadily on Amaterasu's. They could not dance around the subject forever; however hateful or humiliating a reminder of the war with Ceres would be for her, she could not ignore Kurogane's lingering connection with Fai.
 
She frowned, the expression deepening the lines of weariness etched around her eyes, and for a moment he feared she would strike out in anger. But then abruptly she leaned back against her throne, the tension going out of her shoulders. "Understood," she said. "His name will not be excluded from our records, either. But this… Flowright wizard is not a warrior of Nihon, and you are. So what honors We can bestow must fall upon your head, and not his."
 
Kurogane broke the gaze, shrugging a little bit; the honors weren't the main object, after all. "What are your orders for me now, Your Majesty?" Kurogane asked her, getting right to the point.
 
"For the moment, we have none," Amaterasu replied, sharing a glance with her sister, who nodded confirmation. "Tomorrow, return to the castle to report to the High Priestess your eyewitness account of all that has transpired since last fall.
 
"But you have travelled far, so rest for tonight before anything else. Go home, Demon-Queller. Rest for a while, recover from your ordeal on Our behalf. We will call upon you again if We have need for you."
 
He nodded, then bowed once more, the motion more fluid and reverent than it had been in years; stood, and retraced his steps. His movements became more purposeful as he passed into the outer corridors. In spite of Amaterasu's words, he still had one duty to discharge -- one duty self-assigned.
 
---------------
 
 
He'd not yet told anyone what he'd learned in Seishirou's dungeon -- about the identity of the mole, the traitor who'd sold out Nihon to the demons. At first there had been no chance; Fai's mental contact with Tomoyo had been too brief to pass on details, and he hadn't been able to re-establish it. Afterwards, it had been something that he dared not entrust to a messenger. He didn't know any of the couriers that came and went from the southern battleground personally; who knew whether the traitor was working alone, or how far the corruption had spread into the court government?
 
But even now that he was returning to Shirasaki, even when he came face-to-face with Tomoyo herself, he kept silent. He didn't like it -- the thought of an enemy of Nihon sitting so close to Tomoyo every day, a snake in the heart of the most sacred garden… but that was exactly why he dare not move too soon. After all, he was only a minor landless noble, not well connected in the Imperial Court and frequently out of favor with the Empress. Kyle Rondart was not himself of a noble family, but as a high-ranked official of the Nihon government, he had considerable power. Taking him out would require more than suspicion; it would require proof, and Kurogane had none.
 
Right now, he had only Seishirou's word -- indeed, only his insinuation -- that the traitor was Kyle Rondart. He thought it must be true, it made sense if it were true, and yet Seishirou had been a consummate twister of words. He'd warned Fai blindly believing in his words; now he had to take his own advice to heart.
 
But the last thing he wanted was to make a premature move. Right now, there was no way for Kyle Rondart to know that he knew. If he moved too fast, accused him out of hand, then all he had to do was deny it; and it would be difficult if not impossible for Kurogane to force the issue. Then that would leave Rondart, still in power, spooked and potentially making a desperate move on the Tsukuyomi, or even the Empress herself. 
 
As it was, Rondart himself was not an immediate danger; now that the Master of Demons was dead, he was a sleeper with no one to report to, a feed to a dead end. So Kurogane went home; he washed his clothes and bathed and ate a good meal, and slept on clean sheets with clean skin for the first time in months.
 
The next day he returned to the palace, but this time, instead of requesting to gain audience to the Court, he stole off into the side buildings; the attached dormitories which housed some of the employees whose status did not rate a house to themselves in the castle district. His presence attracted curious looks by some of the sentries, but no challenges; he had the right to visit whomever he wished.
 
When he approached the chamber he was seeking, however, he began to move more cautiously, keeping to the shadows and holding himself absolutely still as the sentries made their rounds. Stealth in the crowded, artificial environment of the city was not the same as hunting monsters in the wild, but sneaking was sneaking, and he would have been disappointed in his hunting skills if he couldn't hide from a few routine-lazied guards.
 
At last he reached the apartment he'd been looking for -- Kyle Rondart's living quarters. He let himself in cautiously, quietly; he didn't think the court scribe lived with anyone else, but he wasn't up on castle gossip. The small chamber was empty and quiet, neat and cool; the rushes swept, the futons folded and put away. The clutter of ink and papers on the small wooden writing desk was the only immediate evidence of habitation.
 
Kurogane didn't know what he'd come here expecting to find, but almost as soon as he stepped inside the chamber door he felt it; the sensation of dark magic, the appalling stench of demons. Fai had told him, during their brief magic lessons, that what he perceived as the rotting smell of demons was only partly physical -- much of it was just his mind's way of interpreting the corrupt demon magic that he sensed, the psychic stink that clung to all things distorted by Seishirou's magic.
 
He felt the hair begin to stand up on the back of his neck, felt his lips draw back from his teeth in a grimace of disgust, and wondered how in the hell he had never smelled it on the man before. He must have some way of preventing the tell-tale traces from being visible outside of this room; or else the Tsukuyomi, if no one else, would have spotted him long before.
 
More sure than ever now of his prey, Kurogane prowled the room, pacing uncertainly from corner to corner and poking among the furnishings. If he had to, he could go to Tomoyo with nothing but this; if she came and felt what he felt, perhaps that would be enough to condemn him. But he wanted more than ambivalent feelings and elusive sensations; he wanted proof.
 
The demon smell seemed to be thickest in the corner, centering on a wooden box dark with lacquer and inlaid decorations. There was a lock on it; he forced it off with sheer strength and raised the lid. He moved aside a dark silk kimono that covered the top layer, then sat back on his heels, staring at the interior of the chest.
 
It took him a few moments for his eyes to understand what he was seeing; and though his skin crawled at the loathsome feel of dark magic on his skin, he reached into the trunk and touched it, just to be sure.
 
Well.
 
So much for doubt.
 
 
---------------
 
 
 
He strode back towards the formal receiving chambers with one hand hidden within the wide sleeve of his kimono and the other clenched around his sword hilt. The guards on the door looked up at his approach, and tried to stop him; "Lord Kurogane, the council is in session, you may not enter the chamber armed -- wait!"
 
He shrugged past them and blew through the doors. Commotion rose up behind him, and he saw from the corner of his vision as people rose to their feet or started forward from their posts near the wall. None of that mattered to him; his field of vision had narrowed down to just one dark figure poised at the corner of the dais, pen and tablet in hand.
 
Kyle Rondart raised his head to look at him as if in slow motion, eyes widening as a litany of emotions chased themselves across his face; shock, disbelief, outrage, chagrin, and then fear. The pen fell out of his hand, splattering black ink everywhere over the white page, wooden desk and the boards of the floor. He reached into his sleeve slowly -- oh so slowly to Kurogane's battle-heightened senses, and he was still too close to Tomoyo.
 
Kurogane's sword left his sheath as he sprang forward across the last distance, and the shouts of alarm and recrimination rose to a crescendo as he crossed the forbidden distance, lunging towards the royal siblings with bared steel. But he did not turn aside from his resolve, and as the court scribe finally came to his feet -- his hand clenched around a black hilt just beginning to emerge from its sleeve -- the bright steel blade of Kurogane's sword flew up and whipped around at face level.
 
A burst of soundless light, every color and yet no color, momentarily blinded everyone in the chamber; several people cried out, but only Kyle Rondart screamed in agony, knocking the wooden desk from its perch as he stumbled forward and fell to his knees. A black blade, black-handled, clattered to the floorboards as he brought both hands up to clutch at his eyes; blood began to leak from between his fingers.
 
For a moment, the receiving chamber was silent. Kurogane straightened slowly up, surveying the room. The nobles and officials, Tomoyo and Kendappa; they all sat stunned, frozen in place by the sudden burst of action; and the guards hovered, momentarily unsure who they were supposed to be attacking. In that moment of silence, before anyone could quite recover, Kurogane pulled the object out of his sleeve and tossed it to the floor among the scattered shards of glass.
 
It looked like a doll, a small porcelain replica like a girl of six would play with, dressed in a tiny kimono and crowned with smooth black hair. But this was no child's plaything; the reek of foul magic that poured from it was nauseating, overwhelming. Kurogane had barely been able to stand taking it from its place and stashing it in his sleeve, and he still shuddered at the feel of the thing on his skin.
 
It was interesting to see who in the chamber blanched and recoiled from the foul presence that poured out from the accursed item. Tomoyo did, of course; Souma and several of Tomoyo's other bodyguards did also. Amaterasu did, surprisingly enough; and a scattered handful of other minor nobles or chamber guards. The majority of people, however, just looked confused.
 
"We always knew that the Tsukuyomi could not clearly see the evil that resided to the west," Kurogane said, his voice carrying strongly across the chamber. "But we never knew why. It would take a powerful magic to block sight as strong as hers, a tremendous effort to maintain it over time. Or else -- not a strong magic from far away, but an intimate one, much closer to home. That's Tomoyo's hair on that doll over there, I'd know it anywhere, and the cloth is cut from Tomoyo's robes. How did you get that lock of hair, traitor? How long have you been stalking her, lurking and waiting for a chance to strike out?"
 
A noise halfway between a gasp and a sob came from behind Rondart's clutching hands. Kurogane kept his eyes trained on the traitor, alert to the slightest warning of motion; out of the corner of his eyes he saw Amaterasu rise from her throne and step forward. "Kurogane, what is the meaning of this?" she said, and despite her attempts to sound stern, he heard a quaver of uncertainty in his voice.
 
"This piece of scum --" Kurogane did not take his eyes off Kyle, but he moved his toe to scrape through the magical paraphernalia on the floor. " -- sold himself to the Master of Demons years ago, Your Majesty. It has been through his eyes that the evil of the West spied on our court, watched our every move, and knew when to strike us in our most vulnerable moment.
 
"I found that charm in a trunk in his chambers, along with enough gold to buy a manor house; all of it wrapped with enough filthy demon magic to choke a horse. This knife --" he flicked it away with his sword, sent it spinning across the wood with a scrape. He did not care to touch it with any part of his body, not having seen the oil-black sheen of its blade; not remembering what he'd seen a very similar blade do in Seishirou's hands. "I've seen its like before, in the hands of the Master of Demons. I don't know magic like you do, Tsukuyomi --" he thought it was best to keep that statement vague, " -- but I think you'll find, if you examine the broken pieces of glass, the enchantment through which he spied on us."
 
He rocked forward on his toes, boring his gaze ever more intently on the former court scribe of Nihon. Slowly, the man lifted his head from his hands, blood dropping down his cheeks from where the broken glass shards had cut into the skin of his face and eyelids; his black eyes were fixed on Kurogane, shining with outrage and terror. "How did you --" he croaked out.
 
"At first I thought I would walk in here and cut off your miserable head," Kurogane snarled, pitching his voice low enough to be heard only by him. "Then I thought that I would cut out your traitorous eyes, instead. Your master was fond of eyes, wasn't he? Quite the voyeur. The only reason I didn't was because I know you'll be crucified like the miserable spy you are, and I wanted you to see it coming."
 
Rondart moaned again, and dropped his head forward, trying vainly to staunch the bleeding with his bare fingers. Now the guards were coming forward, at last looking at the real culprit; only once Rondart was surrounded and apprehended did Kurogane dare to relax. That duty was discharged, at last.
 
---------------
 
 
As the guards took Rondart out, Tomoyo called Kurogane to speak with her privately in a side chamber. He went willingly, and when in the past he might have paced or gestured energetically as he made his report, now he was content to sit on the edge of the platform with his elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging down. Tomoyo's hand rested lightly on the back of his shoulder; one of the only people he would allow to approach him in such a vulnerable position.
 
"This is the first time we have spoken face to face in some time," Tomoyo's voice said softly in his head. "Not since you departed alone, to seek the danger in the east. I had not had a chance to say so before, but I am so glad that you survived and returned to me, Kurogane. So very glad."
 
"Thank you, Tomoyo-hime," Kurogane said quietly. "Although what I told your sister was true. I wouldn't have been able to do it without that wizard."
 
"Yes. I was glad to get to speak with him as well, however briefly," Tomoyo said. "Although I wish that he could have returned with you."
 
Kurogane did not speak, but he knew Tomoyo could not help but sense the silent agreement, the yearning and stinging regret that came with those words.
 
"We came very close to destruction; without his timely warning, all would have been lost," Tomoyo continued after a minute. "And he also warned me that we were being watched from within, that the Master of Demons was observing our every move. I felt your spirit there as well, Kurogane. Did you know… even then? That Rondart was the traitor?"
 
Kurogane shifted uncomfortably. "I thought he might be," he said. "It was something Seishirou said -- something I saw in his eyes."
 
 "And yet you did not think to say anything to me?" Her 'voice' began to take on a stern quality.
 
"I had no proof," Kurogane protested. "That man was a twister of words -- it would have been just as likely for him to try to trick me into accusing an innocent man. And there was no chance to take a message to you. I didn't know how many allies Rondart had in the court -- might still have. I had to get close enough to find evidence -- to confront him straight out. What if he'd panicked, and gone after you or Kendappa with that knife?"
 
Tomoyo glared in annoyance. "You should have told me before," she admonished him. "Do you think that I am a child still, naïve to the ways of court politics and without resources? I could have sought evidence, searched for corruption or conspiracy in my own ways. You should have told me this much earlier."
 
Kurogane grunted, accepting the rebuke. "My apologies, Hime," he said. It was a formality; she knew her stubborn servant well, and knew that he could not truly regret actions which he thought were right. Tomoyo sighed.
 
"You have been on your own for too long, Kurogane, taking all responsibilities for everything unto yourself and acting without regard for the will of others."
 
"I've only found one other that could keep up with me," Kurogane said bitterly, "and he had his own responsibilities to discharge. Tomoyo… I came home because you needed me, because I had duties here. Now you say those duties are done. Is there… have you heard… has there been any word from Ceres?"
 
The question came out tinged with more anguish and desperation than he would have liked, and for a long moment it hung in the air. Tomoyo sighed again, but she did not remove her hand from his shoulder, so he waited in desperate hope.
 
"The situation has been… difficult," she said slowly. "Since the last of their wizards returned to their own country, there has been little communication. The cease-fire which Touya and I signed with the wizard Yukito has held, so far; we know that King Ashura also confirmed his signature on it. They refuse to communicate over magical channels; all news has come and gone through horse courier, so the negotiations go slowly. My sister suspects, as do I, that they are deliberately using the slowness of the communications as a delaying tactic while the internal factions fight it out among themselves.
 
"From unofficial sources… we hear little more. Yukito, with whom I did speak at length, has apparently been demoted. There is some conflict, some schism within the court itself. The northern border is sealed; no one of our country is allowed in, and few of their people come out. Ceres refuses to relinquish any of the conquered provinces, and with that as the sticking point, we have not yet been able to settle on any more permanent peace treaty."
 
Kurogane let his breath out slowly. He was not going to ask, he was not.
 
But he didn't need to. Tomoyo's soft 'voice' took on an even more gentle quality. "There has been no word from -- or of -- the wizard Flowright."
 
Kurogane's shoulders hunched. That wasn't the news he wanted to hear. He could think of no good reason why Fai would not even send word to Kurogane that he was still alive and doing well -- but he could think of several bad ones. All of which were equally unknown, frustrating possibilities, because there was nothing he could do about it either way.

Tomoyo continued. "All the same, I will send notice to Ruval that you have returned to the castle. And if there is any word, I will tell you immediately. This I promise."

 
He was here, he was ready. He had to wait for Fai to call for him, and he had to rely on Tomoyo to let him go. "Thank you, Tomoyo," he said quietly, and placed his large hand over hers on his shoulder; marveling, as he always did, at the power that was held in such soft, tiny hands.
 
 "And now," Tomoyo continued, her manner becoming brisker as she straightened up in her throne; "This is the first chance we've had to talk face-to-face in far too long. I know some things, but there are many others I have yet to hear. I promise that your words need go no further than this room. Tell me of your journey, and your battle with the Master of Demons. Tell me everything that happened since you last left home. Tell me of… this Wizard of Ceres."
 

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sunlight burned down hot from overhead; the incessant spring rains had broken for a rare day of sunshine, but that only served to turn the city of Edo into a sauna as the sun steamed the water up from the ground. The crowd of teenage boys - young and hot-blooded and restless - had been eager to escape the week-long confinement that the rain had placed on them, even if the only avenue of escape was to a dusty, abandoned feed-lot in the middle of the city. As long as there was level open ground to spar on and overturned crates to serve as bleachers, it was enough of a stadium for them.

Shouts of excitement filled the air, punctuated by the resonant thwack of wooden bokken crashing against each other.  Syaoran felt the eyes of the other boys on him, but he kept his gaze carefully trained on his opponent, circling warily on the dusty ground as they both searched for an opening. They were both panting, sweat rolling down their necks and chest in streams, but both refused to give an inch in the face of the other.

Ryuuo was grinning fiercely, reveling in the clash of sinews and strength; the other boy was a hothead who loved to fight for any reason, or just no reason at all. Syaoran was determined not to lose to him, certainly not today.

The deadlock was broken as Ryuuo lunged forward, his heavy wooden bokken swinging in swift, heavy arcs. Syaoran gave ground to his charge, feeling his footing carefully behind him and absorbing the blows in his stinging arms. Ryuuo was fierce, but also brash, and that made him careless. He was biding his time, watching for the opportunity that surely must come -- there!

Using a move that his sensei had shown him earlier that week -- which he had practiced last night until his arms were numb -- Syaoran thrust suddenly forward, locking his blade with Ryuuo's and twisting his wrists underneath the his opponent's overextended arms. Ryuuo stumbled slightly, his stance loosening as he overbalanced, and Syaoran heaved upwards in a motion that sent Ryuuo's bokken flying. There was a shout of alarm as one of the watchers had to scramble to avoid being struck by it, but Syaoran paid that no attention; he lunged forward, pressing his advantage, and soon had his wooden "blade" pressed flat against Ryuuo's throat.

"Touch!" he yelled out, and Ryuuo groaned as he conceded defeat.

"You're getting stronger every day, Syaoran," he grumbled as he went to retrieve his bokken; but there was a pleased note in his voice all the same. The best thing about Ryuuo was that as much as he loved to fight, he wasn't a sore loser; he saw every defeat as a chance to improve against a stronger improvement. "That was a pretty slick disarm at the end there."

Pleased, Syaoran's chest swelled with the compliment. "It's new," he said. "I worked hard to get it right."

Now that the match was over, the other boys began crowding in close. Akira came over and handed Ryuuo back his bokken, followed closely by Suoh. "Where'd you learn that new move, Syaoran?" he asked. "Army training up on the front?"

"No." Syaoran frowned briefly, recollections of the frustrating weeks of marching with the army unit flitting through his mind. Day after day of boring, unrelenting chores and toil, never so much as seeing an enemies face; and then, just before they would have come onto the battlefield at last, the wizards had abruptly withdrawn, leaving nothing but empty outposts and scorched fields behind them.

 He shook his head, as if to clear them of the memories, and focused on better things. "Sensei showed it to me yesterday. Since he's he's home all the time now, I'm improving faster than ever."

"Ah, well, with Kurogane Demon-Queller as your teacher, that's to be expected," the other boy, Yamazaki, nodded wisely.

"Sensei is a great man," Syaoran said with pride. "And he's teaching me to be a great swordsman too. He's a demon-hunter, you know."

Suoh gave a small 'hmph.' "Demon-hunter," he said. "You should hear what they're saying about him in town. They're calling him 'Kurogane Wizard-Lover.' "

Syaoran's temper flashed, fury briefly turning his vision red, and he tackled the other boy, the others quickly getting out of the way as they tumbled and tussled in the dirt. Although Suoh was no slouch in hand-to-hand himself, Syaoran had the initiative, and quickly pinned him to the dirt with one first raised warningly. "You take that back!" he shouted. "Don't say such filthy things about my master!"

"All right, all right already!" an annoyed Suoh exclaimed. "I didn't say that I was saying it, okay? I just said that some people were."

"Well, all right," Syaoran said, loosing his hold and climbing to his feet, holding out a hand to help Suoh stand up. "Just don't say it around me any more. It's not true. Sensei is a great man, he's not a traitor or a pervert."

"Wizards are all perverts anyway," Ryuuo said in a superior tone. "You'd have to be, to want to be one, anyway. What kind of man would want to take on a women's role? Ugh!"

"Well, you know," Yamazaki said with a sly smile, "Some of the wizards aren't men… or at least, they aren't just men. They're women, too."

A snicker ran through the assembled boys, except for Akira, whose brows wrinkled in puzzlement. "Huh?" he asked in genuine bewilderment. Then his eyes widened and he gasped. "Do you mean, they have man wizards and lady wizards working together?"
 
Suoh groaned, and Syaoran rolled his eyes. Akira was included in their group because he was Suoh's neighbor and childhood playmate, but he was several years younger than the rest of them, and sometimes it showed. He was also a very sweet boy who always wanted to think the best of everybody, but as far as Syaoran was concerned, some people didn't deserve the consideration.
 
"No, that wasn't what he meant," Suoh said, grabbing Akira in a headlock, which the smaller boy struggled to escape. "He means that they're unnatural, they have a penis and  boobs. Get it now?"
 
"They're unnatural in any case," Syaoran said, frowning darkly as he absently rubbed the side of his face. "They distort everything they touch. They're a blight on the land."
 
Akira wiggled free of his friend's grasp, and straightened his tunic with a huff. "They can't all be that bad," he objected, looking from face to face for support. "They did help us when the demons attacked the southern wall. After all that happened, even though our countries were at war -- they did come to help us."
 
There was silence in the small dusty lot, simmering with resentment as the boys avoided meeting Akira's eyes. They knew as well as he did the tale they'd heard about the battle at the southern breach -- the armada of demons that threatened to overflow Nihon's defenses, that would have ravaged the land and murdered countless people. And they'd heard about the army of wizards that had appeared -- some said miraculously -- to stem the tide with powerful shields and blast the demons into oblivion. They'd all heard it, but it was a hard pill for them to swallow, too hard to put aside their carefully-crafted hatred in favor of understanding.
 
"Akira, you're so gullible," Ryuuo scoffed. "You'll believe anything anyone tells you, you'll give anyone the benefit of the doubt. I bet you the demons and the wizards were in on it from the start. We wouldn't even have needed help defending the southern wall if they hadn't cowardly attacked us in the first place! And who created the demons in the first place, huh? A wizard! I'm telling you, it was all part of the same plot!"
 
The boys nodded agreement with Ryuuo's logic, relieved to be presented with something that made sense. Only Akira looked dubious. "That can't be true," Akira protested. "They're good people too, my uncle said so. He was there! He said they were very brace."
 
"All they really wanted was to drive us out of the northern territories so they could steal them for themselves," Suoh said with cynical bitterness. "My mother's cousins have to stay with us in the city now, because they have no place to live. If Ceres wasn't evil, they would just sign a peace treaty and give us back our lands already. But they never will. Damn Ceres and all its wizards, anyway!"
 
"Did you know," Yamazaki spoke up suddenly, his tone suspiciously bright. "That the first Ceresians hatched out of stones?"
 
The other four boys looked over at Yamazaki, with various degrees of curiosity and wariness. They'd all learned (well, maybe not Akira,) that when Yamazaki started a sentence with "Did you know…" it was going to be another whopper. But the topic was promising; they were always eager to hear more nasty facts about Ceres. "Out of stones?" Syaoran asked, encouraging him to go on.
 
Yamazaki nodded knowingly, beaming around at the circle of faces. "Yes, out of stones, round stones just like eggs," he said. "You won't find stones like that around here, of course, they can only be found in the deepest darkest caves in the Windhome mountains. Anyway, the Ceresians hatched out of stones, just like lizards hatch out of eggs, and that's why they're so pale and slimy. They were naked, too, of course. They didn't have any silk or cotton up in the mountains."
 
One of the boys laughed at the vision Yamazaki was painting, but another one shushed up. Yamazaki kept talking. "Anyway, they were all very cold and hungry," he said, "so they started killing and eating the sheep that lived around the mountains. They had to eat them with their bare hands, because they didn't have any wood to make chopsticks. And because they were very hungry,  they ate every part of the sheep, the wool and horns and hooves and guts and eyeballs and everything --"
 
Ryuuo made a gagging noise, and even Akira wrinkled his nose at the thought of eating such a disgusting thing. Yamazaki continued, warming to his tale.
 
"Then one day, one very clever, very bright Ceresian had an idea. The sheep were warm because they had wool! What if people could wear wool, just like animals did? So he killed a sheep, but instead of eating up the whole sheep, he pulled off the wooly skin and put it on. It was amazing how much warmer he felt! He ran back to the cave to tell his friends and family about his great idea.
 
" 'Look at me, look at me!' he shouted as he ran up to the cave. All his friends and family came out to see what the commotion was. 'Oh, it's a talking sheep,' they said. And because they thought he was a sheep, they killed him. And then they ate him all up."
 
"Ewwww!" The chorus of disgust was everything Yamazaki could have hoped for, and he smiled in delight as the boys recoiled. "They eat people? That's disgusting!"
 
"It's true, though," Suoh put in. "They do eat people. My cousins used to do some trading with Ceresians on the other side of the border, so they know. They even have a recipe for it -- it's called 'Baby tail soup.' "
 
"And I'm sure it's not just Ceres babies that they eat!" Ryuuo said heatedly. "They're voracious! There are entire families like yours, Suoh, that never made it back from the north even after they were evacuated. I'll bet you anything the Ceresians killed and ate them up."
 
"Baby tail soup?" Akira repeated in puzzlement, looking from Suoh to Yamazaki. "Is this one your fake stories again? Babies don't have tails."
 
"Well, maybe Ceres babies do," Suoh said, shrugging. "After all, they're not really human, are they?"
 
There was a moment of silence; nobody quite dared to say anything after that. The silence was broken by Syaoran.
 
"I don't care what they are," he said, looking north across the street, across the endless low rooftops of the city. Away in the distance stretched the line of the Windhome mountains, capped by icy white even as summer came on them. He remembered the icy chill of those mountain passes, and what he'd lost there. "Or what they do or don't eat. I only care what they've done. Wizards lie -- they cheat and they kill. The whole world will be better off when they're all dead."
 
 
-------------------------
 
 
Over the next few weeks Kurogane slowly relaxed back into the routine of life in Edo. It was a relief to rest at last, finally heal from the injuries he'd been neglecting for a long time and be free of the bone-grinding fatigue. At the same time, the long period of inactivity was strange and uncomfortable -- normally he only stayed in his home for a few days at a time, a week at most before he was back on patrol. Once the doctors had declared him back at full strength, he had nothing to do but bide his time; practice calligraphy in his drawing room, train his student, and check twice an hour for messengers from the palace. And wait.
 
He'd told Tomoyo everything they knew, or suspected, or guessed about Seishirou's mysterious master. There was some hope that with the traitor Kyle Rondart dead, Tomoyo's dreams would at last become clear enough to show her the face of the enemy. She had cautioned him to patience, saying that the visions could not be rushed or coerced, but had to come in their own time. He knew it to be true, but still he paced and fumed and fretted, and evolved a hundred different plans to go out and start searching. If only he weren't tied here. If only he and Fai had stayed out in the wilds, never returned to their own countries…
 
The summons he'd been expecting came at last, three weeks after his return from the southern border; and they came not from Tomoyo, but from Amaterasu.
 
"Your Divine Majesty?" Kurogane asked somewhat warily as he entered the small chamber. Not a formal audience, the full ritual of kowtows and submission were not necessary; but even in a private meeting such as this one the Empress was never completely alone, surrounded by her personal servants and most loyal bodyguards. "You sent… for me?"
 
"Yes." Amaterasu frowned at him; he returned her gaze levelly. She broke off first, and dropped her frown to a packet of papers sitting on the low table beside her hand. "We received the latest missive from Ceres this morning. For a change, they actually seem to have delivered it with some urgency."
 
Kurogane came alert; news from Ceres? And what reason would she have to call him in on it, if not… "Oh?" he said, and cleared his throat to maintain a casual tone. "Anything of interest?"
 
"Yes, in fact." The frown returned to him, and strengthened. "There is a letter here written in King Ashura's hand, marked with his personal seal. It is politely, although I'd say strongly worded, and it is the first time he has made anything remotely approaching a request; up till now all their letters have been anonymous and vague. In short, you, Kurogane Lord of Suwa, are invited and requested to attend court in Ceres at your earliest possible convenience."
 
Kurogane was silent for a moment, conflicted feelings of hope and resentment, loss and confusion battling within him. "You say… The letter was sent by Ashura? Not by… anyone else?"
 
"He sent along a signature which my sister says is magical in nature, verifying his identity, and a letter of assignation requiring that all parties from the Ceres border on inwards give you passage with all possible speed. There were no other names listed; you would probably know as well as I would what that signifies. Now," she added in a slightly sterner voice, "Up until now no nihonjin -- not even Touya -- has been permitted to step beyond their borders. Now we get a letter from the King of Ceres himself practically ordering you to come. You're not exactly the most polished diplomat; I can't imagine that you impressed him so highly on your last visit. Do you have any guess as to why the King of Ceres wants to see you so badly?"
 
"Yes," he said.
 
She waited, then growled under her breath, "Like what? I'm not in the mood to play games with you, Demon-hunter."
 
"Guesses are all I have," Kurogane snapped back. "Maybe he wants me because I've been to the court at Ceres before, and I'm at least familiar enemy. Maybe it's because I fought the Master of Demons earlier this spring. Maybe it's something else entirely. I can't carry the responsibility for anyone else's decisions or motivations."
 
Amaterasu sank back in her padded chair with a grimace, and made a tired gesture of her hand to let the topic of discussion pass.
 
After a beat, Kurogane asked, "Do I have leave to go, then? To Ceres?"
 
"Yes, of course you do. It's not like we have the option of refusing them," she added, bitterness in her tone that had become all too common to her lately. "You'll leave tomorrow at first light. I'm sure I don't need to impress on you the need for haste."
 
"I'd be able to get there a lot  faster if you hadn't destroyed this end of the portal," Kurogane couldn't resist pointing out with asperity. "This whole negotiation process would be much further along by now."
 
"Don't be a fool! It was far too dangerous for that… thing to exist," Kendappa exclaimed. "To think that it was in our capital, under our very nose, for all these years…! We could have woken up at any time to find an army of Ceres barbarians standing over our beds. Of course it was destroyed! If my idiot brother hadn't -- "
 
She bit off her words, eyes flashing, mouth compressed in a tight line. Kurogane was almost surprised by her self-restraint, refusing to vent a grievance about the divine family even in such close company.
 
All the members of the Imperial bloodline were sacrosanct, set apart by their descent from the Sun Goddess. While conflict between individuals and even different branches of the family did exist -- Kendappa herself would never have come to power without such an internecine dispute -- the divine family nonetheless drew together against outsiders, and it was highly unusual for one of the royalty to openly criticize another. That she would do so even about Touya, a younger half-brother, spoke volumes about the depth of the rift the subject of the portal had driven between them.
 
Still, while he understood the strategic justification, he couldn't help but resent the destruction of the artifact. Not only because it would have made his own job much easier, but because he had at least enough understanding of magic to have a glimmering of just how old, and rare, and valuable an artifact it had been, how senselessly wasteful its destruction.
 
"None of this matters now," Kendappa said, regaining her composure. "Go to Ceres, Demon-Queller. Perhaps you can make a crack in this stalemate we've been locked in for months. Perhaps you can persuade some of the Ceresians to our cause, help them understand our ways better." 

Privately, Kurogane thought that there were already many Ceresians who understood Nihon and their ways all too well. It was getting Nihon to understand Ceres in turn that was going to be the difficult part. "Yes, Divine One," he answered.

"See if you can secure a clear and lasting treaty," Amaterasu went on. "Gods know you're not our first choice of an ambassador, but you seem to be all we've got. Try to win as many concessions as you can. And maybe… if you see a chance, any chance for a clear advantage for Nihon…" She let the words trail off hopefully.

 Kurogane's eye twitched, and he stood with his back as rigid as a board. "Empress," he said abruptly. "I challenged Ashura to a dual once. I lost completely. I cannot defeat him in even combat, and I don't intend to jeopardize my visit by trying. And I will not consider any less honorable approach. I will go to Ceres, but not as a spy, and not as an assassin. Do not insult me again by implying it."
 
Amaterasu stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged slightly, glancing aside. The Empress would never consider apologizing to a servant, but her acceptance of his refusal was a tacit apology. "Perhaps," she said somewhat indirectly, "I do understand why he asked for you."
 
-------------------------
 
 
Doorways in Nihon were often a trial to Kurogane's towering inches, but the doorway of the cha-no-yuu was deliberately too small, set low in the wall so that everyone -- peasant or warrior or great noble -- would have to get down on hands and knees, entering the tea-house in humility.
 
Tomoyo was waiting for him inside, alone; Kurogane could sense the aura of her attendants nearby, beyond the paper-thin walls of the teahouse. But in this small, sacred space, they were alone. He took a moment to face the altar, and meditate on the austere, elegant arrangement of flowers, the delicate brush-strokes of the kanji scroll that had been scripted for the ceremony. He had some knowledge of both arts, of course, all samurai did; but he'd never had much interest in them, his hands always being more apt to hold a sword than a pen. Still, he could sense the beauty and care that had gone into the arrangement, and appreciate it.
 
He took a seat seiza across from Tomoyo, not speaking. She raised her arms, tiny white hands almost hidden behind the trailing screen her her kimono's sleeves, and began to prepare the tea. Her face was lowered as she contemplated her task, the bamboo whisk briskly stirring the powder into a frothy liquid; her face was serene, unreadable. He wondered why she had chosen to invite him to a tea ceremony here tonight, on the eve of his departure.
 
At last she finished mixing the tea, and lifted the bowl in both hands, holding it towards him. He stretched out an arm and took it, and his fingers brushed against hers in the process; in that moment, she could have spoken so that he could here, but she did not. He chose not to speak either, instead concentrating on the ritual. He looked at the cup in his hands, turning the smooth ceramic around in his palms so that he could see the design. He did not recognize the maker, though he recognized the quality of the workmanship, admired the subtle and understated beauty of the glaze, the simple asymmetrical design that stood out in sharp contrast against the blank surface of the ceramic. The cha-no-yuu was a place to stop and notice the details, appreciate them; it was not a place where impatience, or foreboding about the future, was welcome. Keeping that thought firmly planted in his mind, he took a sip of the tea, allowing the bitter taste to fill his mouth.
 
A small wooden tray of bean-paste sweets had been set out before him, three small cakes arranged neatly; properly, he took one and nibbled on it before he took his first sip of tea. He didn't much care for the cloying sweetness of the sweet, but that wasn't the point. Neither the strong, astringent tea nor the sticky-sweet bean cakes were meant to stand on their own; it was the combination of the two that brought harmony, a tempering and appreciation of both. He sipped his tea again, and tried hard to push away thoughts of Fai. They did not belong here, in the center of this symbolic ritual.
 
Once he had taken the third sip, he placed the cup firmly to the tatami before him, and looked around. This time he noted the kanji that had been chosen for the scrolls; homeland was brushed deliberately onto one, and long memory onto the others.
 
With that, he thought he understood Tomoyo's purpose in bringing him here, honoring him with this ceremony tonight. Unlike her sister, she would never insult him by suggesting he was disloyal; instead, she wanted to remind him of who he was, and where he had come from. This ceremony tonight was meant to reinforce that no matter how far he traveled from his home soil, and whatever else he might encounter in countries far from home, he would never break with the roots from which he had sprung. And because it was subtle, and artful, and meant with all her kindness, he took the lesson to heart, absorbing it deep within himself to use as a source of strength in later, dire hours.
 
"Tsukuyomi," he started to said, breaking the silence of the cha-no-yuu for the first time. Then he changed his mind. "Tomoyo, there's no need to worry. I've been away much further from home than this before, and I'll be home within a couple of weeks."
 
Tomoyo glanced up at him then, meeting his gaze for the first time, and the deep violet of her eyes was unfathomably and sad. "No, dear Kurogane,"  she said, her voice barely a whisper, and Kurogane started; he was not touching her hand, and he knew it took her enormous effort to make herself heard without that contact. "I believe we will not see each other again for a very long time."
 
His mouth went dry. "Have you -- have you had a dream then?" he asked in a hushed voice. "Is there a warning? Should I not go?"
 
She shook her head, her hair a shining curtain around her face; she did stretch out her hand then, and he gladly took it, enclosing her pale, cold fingers in his own. "My visions are returning, but slowly," she said. "And yet I think that we dare not wait for them to become any more clear. A path is opening before you, Kurogane, a path that leads away from here and does not return. I sense great danger if you go down this road; but at the same time, if you do not, the danger becomes not only for you, but for the entire world."

"Danger?" Kurogane's spine jolted upright, and he stared at her in alarm. "What kind of danger? Is it demons, or -- do you fear treachery from the king of Ceres?" Not treachery from Fai, nor even from Ceres in general, no; but from Ashura, that snake of a man, he would be a fool not to suspect it.

"I do not know what it is that I fear," Tomoyo's voice whispered in his mind, and he saw her eyes glisten with sadness as her fingers curled tightly around his own. "The danger is great, but you can overcome it, You-ou, my dearest friend. Would that I could arm you with sure knowledge, but I have none; only the certainty that if you do not go, then all that we've worked for -- in every corner of this country -- will be lost. You will go north, but I do not know if you will ever return; I only wish that you will keep us -- and me -- in your heart, that I may aid you in spirit when you come to the end of that road." 
  
 
-------------------------
 
 
Syaoran shifted his weight from foot to foot, hovering indecisively in the hallway outside of his teacher's room. Before he'd gone to the palace, Kurogane had been alternately pacing and brooding, snapping in response to every comment. Now he was packing. It didn't take a genius to make the connection between the two. "Um…" he called out hesitantly. "Sensei?"
 
"What is it?" was all the response Kurogane offered, intent on throwing clothes and personal effects into his packs with great energy. "Don't hang around in the hallway. Come in if you're going to."
 
"Are you really going… up there?" Syaoran was torn with conflicting feelings. He had nothing but respect and affection for his teacher, but… Suoh's remarks from earlier still stung a little bit, especially seeing his teacher so enthusiastically preparing to head off into enemy territory. "To Ceres again?"
 
"Yeah. Empress ordered me to go. I've been asked to go help negotiate a treaty," Kurogane said brusquely.
 
Syaoran took a deep breath and plunged forward. "Sensei, let me come with you," he begged. "You can’t go alone into that -- that den of villains without even one person to defend you in case of a fight."
 
"I've been there before," Kurogane pointed out, tugging the leather straps on his saddlebags closed and standing to sling it against the wall, then turning to the next one. "And I'm more than capable of taking care of myself in any fights. I don't need you tagging along for that."
 
"But you don't understand what those people are like," Syaoran said earnestly. "I've heard awful stories about what the white witches of the north do to people. Ryuuo said he heard of cases where Nihon families who lived up were captured, but instead of being evicted, they were killed, and cooked and eaten!"
 
"Ryuuo should make a living telling grandmother stories to little kids to get them to behave for their mothers," Kurogane growled. "You're sixteen. You've got a working brain. I shouldn't even have to tell you how stupid that is."
 
Syaoran felt his cheeks heat, and he dropped his head to stare at the floor. When called on it, he had to admit it sounded pretty stupid. "I didn't really believe it either," he mumbled. "Ryuuo is -- well -- sometimes he doesn't think about all of the things he says --"
 
Kurogane snorted and rolled his eyes. He never said much about it -- he always took a back seat to Syaoran's friendships -- but Syaoran nevertheless got the distinct feeling that his master didn't think much of the other boy.
 
"--but that doesn't mean you should be alone," Syaoran said earnestly. "This isn't like fighting demons, where I'd just be a liability. I want to come with you, so that you don't have to be the only one of your kind, so that you'll have someone you can trust along to help you and watch your back."
 
"Hell n --" Kurogane frowned, pausing in his packing as he stared intently at Syaoran. His eyes narrowed, looking Syaoran up and down, evaluating him, and the boy waited with bated breath.
 
His arguments were sincere, but at the same time, they were only part of the reason. Syaoran was filled revulsion at the thought of meeting the wizards on their own home territory -- but at the same time, he itched for an opportunity to get close enough to settle the score for his father's murder. In his march north with the army earlier that season he hadn't gotten close enough to see even one enemy face. Now the war was over, and no one was allowed into Ceres, and unless he did something -- somehow -- he might never get the chance to --
 
"All right," Kurogane conceded suddenly, looking almost as surprised at his own change of heart as Syaoran felt. "Come along. Maybe you'll learn something useful. But move your ass -- I want to be on the road in an hour."
 
Syaoran's face lit up, and he dashed out into the hallway yelling, "Hold on! I'll get my stuff. I promise I won't make you wait for me, Sensei! You won't regret this!"
 
"I hope not," his teacher muttered, almost inaudible in the room behind him.
 
 

Chapter Text

Well, Kurogane thought, philosophically trying to find the bright side in every situation; at least it had stopped raining.

He stared out over the long broad slope of the valley below, feeling the same fascination and vertigo as the first time he'd climbed the high mountain passes to Ruval. It had been six months since then, three months since the end of the war. One month since Tomoyo had declared the southern wall rebuilt enough to hold out the lurking demons of the wilderness beyond, and he'd finally been able to come home.  Six months since he'd last come this way to Ceres, since that last journey, and many things had changed; he came now in summer instead of winter, in peace instead of war.

But the view was still stunning.

The ravages of the spring invasion that had driven its way up the valley to the very foot of the pass could still be seen, in places, a black scar on the bones of the rolling foothills. Time and peace and change of seasons was beginning to heal it, a thick mat of green plant life covering the smoked and burning fields, and orderly rows of tends and temporary buildings spreading tentatively over the ruins of razed villages. But the scars still remained, underneath.

Despite the elevation of the valley and the relatively early season, the crops were growing thick and heady in the fields -- if anything, they were further developed than the corn and rice and oat fields cultivated down in Nihon. As they'd passed along the packed-earth road that led between verdant fields, Kurogane thought he'd caught the tingling scent of magic. When he'd parted ways with Fai, his nascent magical education had been abruptly cut short; but there was little difficulty in understanding what was going on here. Ceres was impatient to harvest the bounty of its newly conquered farmland, to feed the hungry people crowded into the stone channels above.

They were nearing the end of the valley, the sheer rock wall that marked the final stand of the wizards of Ceres against the Nihon army. As the panorama opened out to the plains at the foot of the mountains, he could see the roiling rainclouds beginning to scurry under the stiff wind. It was the rainy season in Nihon right now; the endless weary days of warm sticky rain that always afflicted the plains during the early summer. It was a relief to be away from the humid, sweltering heat, up in the clear, crisp air above the clouds.

He'd expected to see busy construction at the villages they passed through, to hear the now-familiar scrape of stone and mortar and see work gangs trundling stone blocks along the roads. Buildings in Ceres were mostly made of stone, after all; and most of the buildings had been at least partly destroyed by the Nihon advance. If they were going to be habitable by winter, he'd have thought they'd be building again already.

Instead, the place was oddly quiet and subdued; the place had an oddly transient feel, not only in the conquered provinces but even up into the original Ceres valley. They passed through clusters of habitations spaced evenly through the fields where the only dwellings were thick canvas tents, their unbleached wool awnings flapping in the steady breeze drawn down the valley. Although the tent camps were cluttered with tools and equipment, and he saw both men and women going about various chores, they were as transient as the peasant laborers who'd built the wall in southern Nihon. They were workers, not residents.

But one person was not in the least bit pleased by all this evidence of productivity. Syaoran glowered around at the fields of waving green stalks, at the distant figures of laboring farmhands. "Look at them, acting like they own this place," he muttered angrily. "They sure didn't waste any time setting up shop."

"They wouldn't." Kurogane turned his head to watch the billowing rippled spread over the green grass. "This was what they fought for, after all."

"So what was all this for?" Syaoran demanded, outrage flaring up in his eyes. "All those people in Esui and Sabae and Naoetsu dead, the Esui miko murdered in her own shrine, and for what? For a few acres of, of grass?"

"All that we have comes from the land," Kurogane replied. "Gold is just a way of keeping count that's easier to carry, but it's the land that provides the wealth. When you get to the root of it, that's what all wars come down to."

"That doesn't give them the right to attack us, kill our people and steal our homes, just because they want what we have," Syaoran persisted.

Kurogane was silent, not sure how to get Syaoran to open his mind -- or his heart -- to the enormity of the suffering that Ceres had experienced. Somewhere not too far from here was the rocky ledge where he and Fai had argued; Fai had accused him of never knowing a day's hunger and indeed, although he had known other hardships, he'd always been provided for.

It had taken him a long time, during his visit in Ceres, to wrap his mind around the idea of true famine. So many of the customs and etiquette of Ceres -- which he'd never had much grace or patience for -- revolved around the concepts of preventing waste and the mutual obligations of hospitality. Ceres had been a hungry land for a long time. Perhaps it wasn't surprising that they would choose crops over buildings.

"When we first met," he said at last, falling back on familiar, shared experiences. "In Hokugawa. I was just returning from a patrol through the Rising Sun Gate, and you were in the neighborhood there. You were living on the street. You hadn't eaten in three days."

Syaoran's face flushed, both at the reminder of the painful memory and at the comparison Kurogane was drawing. "It's not the same," he objected hotly. "I never stole. I would never have attacked or hurt someone else just to benefit myself!"

"You didn't stoop to stealing, no," Kurogane agreed, but then went on harshly, "but you were picking through other people's trash to find something to eat. When you don't have enough to live on, other considerations, other morals and ideals don't seem so important any more. You should remember enough to understand that, at least."

Syaoran fell silent, momentarily crushed. Kurogane regretted bringing up such unpleasant memories, but Syaoran couldn't be allowed to bull around at court at Ruval with his head in the clouds.

"But still," Syaoran resumed a resentful grumble. "It's not all right to make other people suffer, just because you are. If they didn't have enough land to grow food, then they should have found some other way to make it last. It's irresponsible, overbreeding like that, spilling over onto other people's lands. Maybe if they stopped having so many babies, they wouldn't have too many people for their land."

Kurogane sighed, bringing his hand up to press against his throbbing forehead. "Do me a favor, kid," he said. "Don't say shit like that when we get to the court at Ceres. Remember that we're guests there, and not only that, we're the first ambassadors who have been allowed past the border since the war ended. If you really want to keep more people from getting hurt and dying, remember that we're here to keep the peace. It's not the right place for teenage posturing, so keep it in your pants, or I'll knock you stupid. You hear?"

"All right, Sensei," Syaoran submitted obediently, but glancing back once more at him, Kurogane saw the doubt etched clearly on his face; so why did you bring me with you, anyway?

Turning away from the last sight of the green valley and his home, fixing his eyes on the cold stony slopes ahead, Kurogane wondered that very same question himself. It had been a last-minute impulse to bring Syaoran with him, and he wondered how the Ceresians were going to react. Relations between the two countries were still strained; there still wasn't anything that could lastingly be called peace. He still wasn't entirely sure why he'd been allowed across the sealed border, but he suspected there was more to it than diplomatic politics.

Syaoran was neither hunter, nor diplomat nor courtier; he was only a boy, not even born as nihonjin, but a fierce and fervent adopted patriot. He was hotheaded and zealous, stubbornly set in his beliefs, and he was convinced that Ceres and all its people were wicked, hateful villains, who'd attacked Nihon unjustly and cheated their way to an unfair victory. In that, he was not so different from the strong sentiment of the people of Nihon themselves -- humiliated by their defeat at Ceres' hands, resentful of the territory they'd been forced to cede, and not at all in the mood to build a lasting peace.

He couldn't change the minds of everyone in Nihon, couldn't force compassion or empathy into stubborn-set minds or convince them to bend gracefully under defeat. He was not a great leader of men, and it would take a miracle to reverse the momentum of long-standing intolerance and simmering hatred. But that didn't mean that Kurogane was allowed not to try.

He was Syaoran's teacher, his mentor, and he knew the boy respected and submitted to him. No one else was in a position to try to broaden his mind, bring him around to another point of view; and it would never happen without giving Syaoran an opportunity to know his enemy. He didn't know yet how long he'd be remaining in Ceres, but there had to be time in there to show Syaoran around, introduce him to the beauty and wonder that this strange country had to offer, convince him that the people of Ceres were humans too.

And if he couldn't even crack open Syaoran's heart far enough to see that, then maybe he had no business being anybody's teacher anyway.

-------------------------------------

They started meeting the real security when they ascended the collapsed pass -- using a cable-and lever contraption that hummed with magic -- to the final gateway into Ceres. Kurogane had expected it sooner. Although the newly-defined border between Nihon and Ceres had been lined with soldiers, dressed in the dark brown bearskins and carrying the traditional halberds of the Ceres military, he knew better than anyone that Ceres' true strength was not found in soldiers. They had merely been there to mark the boundary, to make sure that no forbidden visitors slipped past. But as he stepped onto the rough wooden stone ledge above the broken past, he felt the thick humming of magic in the air, and knew that this was where Ceres' defenses truly began.

There were more bear-furred guards at the top of the pass, and a young, light-haired woman in pale linen robes. His sharp eyes caught a blue cloth armband decorated with a familiar-looking silver sigil; but she did not wear the full regalia of the Wizards of Ceres. Convenience, or was she low-ranking in their hierarchy, merely an acolyte? Either way she seemed nervous and hesitant, not at all secure in her role.

As he reached the level ground at the top of the pass, Kurogane recognized the scenery, and involuntarily glanced to the right; only a few hundred paces away would be the opening to the stone gallery where he and Fai had been caught in a cave-in. Only Fai's powers had protected them from being crushed by the rock during the three days and nights it had taken for help to come, and as soon as he'd left the cave, it had collapsed again. Despite his substantial physical courage, Kurogane felt a shiver of involuntary fear as he remembered the ordeal.

Instead of the black opening into dark rock, however, the pass sported a new feature; a large stone building, growing out from the rock face and extend back into the hillside. Made of undecorated native rock, it was plain and utilitarian, and seemed to be more for storage and housing than for defense. From the outbuilding alone, Kurogane estimated, there were probably more soldiers stationed here at the pass than at any single checkpoint down along the borders.

A dozen of the soldiers were forming into a ceremonial array, watching his approach; they were alert and wary, but not angry or surprised, so Kurogane supposed they must have been told of his coming. Two of the officers, one of them the senior officer judging by his grey hair and insignia, strode forward at their approach and barred their way with his long metal weapon. "Halt, stranger. State your name and your business, please."

The question was brusque and undiplomatic, but at least it had been spoken in Nihongo, and a fairly polite mode at that. Kurogane nodded recognition to the man, and pulled out his carefully protected letters of passage from King Ashura. "My name is Kurogane Demon-Queller, Lord of Suwa," he said, and felt Syaoran's brief start of surprise that he'd chosen to use his title of nobility. But since everyone in Ceres already knew him by that title, it was better to continue as he'd begun. "I have come from Shirasagi Castle to visit the court at Ruval by invitation of King Ashura, and at King Ashura's request. Here are my letters of passage."

The senior officer took them, and regarded them with a frown; his lieutenant, a younger and sharper-faced man, peered at them over his shoulder. They conversed for a few minutes in the low, liquid tones of the language of Ceres, and Syaoran stiffened up.

"They're not speaking Nihongo!" he said in surprise. "They have their own language? I never knew that!"

"Of course they do," Kurogane muttered back, his lofty tone making it sound like it was obvious -- although truthfully he'd had no idea himself, until he'd first come here. "Why would they all speak Nihongo all the way up here?"

"Well, of course," Syaoran said, flustered. "But you'd expect it to be more similar to Nihongo, since the two countries are so close, and because Nihon is superior. But their language doesn't even sound like it's in the same family! If anything, it has ties to some of the Uraic languages in the far west… They don't even use the same syllabary as Nihon. I wish I could get a look at their alphabet, to compare the characters…"

He trailed off into a mutter, and Kurogane rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting; he never knew what Syaoran was talking about when he went off on a tangent like this, but anything that distracted him from his angry hostility was an improvement.

The foreign conversation finished up, and the senior officer nodded in satisfaction and looked up at them again. "My apologies for the delay, my lord," he said in his heavy accent. "Everything seems to be in order. You are expected at Court. We will provide you with an honor guard of twenty men, to escort you to the capital."

"I've been here before," Kurogane said shortly. "I know the way."

"All the same," the lieutenant said politely, "we will provide you with an escort."

Kurogane sighed, but he hadn't really hoped to avoid it. "Let's get started, then," he said. "I was led to believe that King Ashura wanted me there as soon as possible."

At a signal from the officer, a dozen of the soldiers broke formation and moved swiftly to pick up packs of gear. Kurogane strode forward into the pass, not waiting for them to finish assembling; if they were all that eager to come along, they could catch up.

The path approached a narrow cleft in the ridge, and Kurogane saw a large, perfectly circular device set into the stone about twenty feet up; there was one embedded into each rock face, like a sphere that had been divided in two and set to guard either side of the passageway. Kurogane looked at them with mild interest as they approached, his sharp eyes picking out individual runes from the complex and flowing inscriptions written around the rim. Obviously it was magical, but what was it for? He could read one or two of the runes by themselves, such as eye and guard and cold, but what they might come together to mean he had no idea.

"Sensei," Syaoran muttered behind him, and his voice was full of suppressed panic. "Those, those globes, I've seen something like those before. They --"

A humming sound was emanating from the magical wards, increasing in volume as they approached. As he stepped over the threshold from the steep gravel pass onto the main road, the center of each of the hemispheres suddenly lit up with a deep red glow. Shouts of anger and consternation rose from the soldiers around them, and Kurogane halted with one foot on the road as the 'honor' guard suddenly appeared around him, bristling with weapons.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he demanded, bluster and annoyance covering his own shock.

"That is precisely the question I mean to ask you, outsider," the senior officer growled at him, all pretense of politeness aside. "No enemy spies may cross our borders! You will pay for this deception with your life!"

"Sensei!" Syaoran grabbed onto Kurogane's elbow. "That's what I -- this is what happened before! This is exactly what happened before, when they killed my father! I knew it, I knew it, you can't trust any of them! Filthy wizards!"

"Shut up!" Kurogane motioned Syaoran urgently to silence, and turned back to the senior officer, taking a deep breath and marshalling as much diplomacy as he could. "There must be some mistake," he said carefully, keeping his hands away from his weapons. "We are not spies. You have our papers, you must have had word from the capital that we were coming. Why would you think we were?"

"These --" and a sweep of the captain's arm indicated the sullenly red-glowing globes, " -- are the Eyes of Ko. The wizard-general set them here years ago, to detect the presence of hostile magic. When they glow, an enemy bearing hostile magics approaches!"

Magic again. Kurogane clenched his teeth, and wished with all his might that Fai were here -- not only to grease them out of this mess, but to explain how the hell a rock was supposed to know when anything approached. He tried to remain calm. "Our countries were lately at war," he reasoned. "We are the first people of Nihon to pass through this gate since the war ended. Is it possible the wards just still think of us as enemies because of that?"

The captain and his lieutenant looked taken aback, and Kurogane realized that they had no more understanding than he did -- or less -- of how the magical devices actually worked. He felt like tearing his hair out in frustration, but the tableau was broken by another voice.

"No, that's not it," said the girl with the blue armband -- the one Kurogane had recognized as affiliated with the council of wizards. She wilted a little bit as everyone's attention turned on her, but pulled herself together to say, "Th-the wards are set to detect the approach of magic. They wouldn't activate without it. But -- but I don't see anything on either of you that could be…"

"Well, I'm just a simple hunter of demons," Kurogane said firmly, folding his arms in front of him. "The Wizard Flowright --" dropping that name caused a stir in the crowd, and Kurogane was emboldened -- "once told me that I must have some magical talents of my own, but I've never used them, I'm neither wizard nor spy.  And," he continued, jerking his thumb upwards in the direction he knew the incredible palace floated among the mountain valleys -- "I'm expected. Do you want to explain to King Ashura why you disobeyed his orders to let me pass?"

That produced the expected flurry of consternation among the Ceresians, and Kurogane sat back a little, watching them argue with satisfaction. The debate was centered around the two senior officers and the acolyte. The captain thrust the papers holding Ashura's seal signet towards her, and rattled off an urgent-sounding question. Fumbling a little, the girl held her hand out towards the bottom of the page and made a sign; a green glow flared up around the King's signature immediately, and she shook her head fiercely back and forth. The captain glared at the paper as though it had betrayed him, and added something in a frustrated tone.

At last the acolyte nodded agreement, turned and hurried away, and a tense silence fell over the group. The soldiers still glowered, but they seemed nervous and uncertain; in some ways this was no improvement, as a tense and hilt-happy soldier was just as dangerous as a furious one. Kurogane kept up his stoic demeanor, giving no hint as to his own feelings.

Behind him, Syaoran was shaking with fear, or more likely knowing him, anger. "Sensei, these --" he started in a low heated voice.

"I said shut up," Kurogane hissed. "This is no different from a battlefield, and I'm still your commander." Syaoran subsided into unhappy silence.

After a few minutes, the acolyte came back into view; she looked at them, cleared her throat, and spoke in Nihongo again.

"I have spoken with the C-rank wizard, Yukito Tsukishiro, the Seer of Ceres," she said in a shaky voice, "and he says -- he says that this man is not an enemy, and should be allowed to pass."

"But the Eyes --" the lieutenant began in outrage.

"Yukito says, 'The man may be bearing wards and blessings that were gifts from the Tsukuyomi of Nihon which the Eyes could wrongfully detect as hostile magics.' That's what he says," she emphasized his point. "The -- the wizard says, let him come directly to Ruval; if there is any problem with magic, they are much more able to detect and neutralize it there.

"He also says, we shouldn't delay any longer, and we need to come to Ruval at once!" Her voice grew slightly fearful with the urgency of those last words, and Kurogane wondered what the pale, mild-mannered wizard could have said to leave her so shaken.

"You heard the man," Kurogane said to the soldiers, seizing the high ground. "He and his kind designed these Eyes in the first place. He'd know better than any of us here what is and isn't safe."

The captain glared at Kurogane and the acolyte in turn, his jaw working, but then gave a grudging nod of acquiescence. "Very well, you may pass," he said unhappily, then suddenly pointed a long arm at Syaoran. "But the letters of passage only mention you, Kurogane of Suwa. There's no mention of this unknown boy. He must stay behind!"

But Kurogane had the advantage now, and he was willing to press it; he had no intention of backing down. "I am a noble of high stature in my country," he said, adopting the best haughty airs of the nobles he'd observed in Kendappa's court, "and have the right to my own attendants. I have come in response to the appeal of Ceres' ruler, but I will not appear in Ruval like a beggar, without even one servant to assist me! Either my servant accompanies me to Ruval, or I will turn back to Nihon right now and leave you to explain matters to the King!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Syaoran's look of pure disbelief in his direction; Syaoran knew perfectly well that he was student, not servant, and that Kurogane would sooner have cut off his own finger than allow himself to be pampered by servants like the courtiers of Shirasagi. But Kurogane was locked in a staring contest with the old soldier, and nobody else noticed his reactions. The officer snarled silently, but was forced to relent. "Fine," he snapped. "But you will be answerable for him!"

"Of course," Kurogane said in a haughty tone, and as the captain turned away, and signaled his men to fall back into formation, he didn't bother to try to hide his smirk.

"Sensei," Syaoran hissed to him in an undertone as they got moving on the road once more. "What are you doing? I'm not one of -- of your liege-men, I'm just your student!"

"It's either this or you go back home by yourself," Kurogane whispered back. "You were the one who wanted to come; so just play along."

Syaoran fell silent, but Kurogane could still feel his outrage and disbelief -- not just at Kurogane's outrageous claim, but over the whole undignified episode -- simmering just under the surface. He just hoped the boy would be able to keep a lid on it for the rest of their visit to Ceres, and that there wouldn't be any more confrontations like this one.

-------------------------

Syaoran gaped, dumbfounded, at the sight of the palace rearing ahead of them -- magnificent, the bright white marble seeming to float above the patchy grey and green narrow valley like a cloud. The sight of it, the sheer scale of the effort that had gone into making it and fortifications that surrounded it, left him feeling more than a little intimidated. This was Ruval, the very heart of the domain of Ceres, filled with elite soldiers and powerful wizards. And the only nihonjin within a hundred ri would be the two of them. If he could have, he would have dragged his feet, reluctant to enter the enemy's stronghold.

His teacher didn't seem to share Syaoran's trepidation, though; in fact, he seemed increasingly impatient to reach the castle. He kept urging his horse further ahead, the escort trying to match his speed, until the commander would order them back with a sharp command and Kurogane would reluctantly drop back to join them.

The cavalcade threaded their way through the stone streets and houses, then climbed the dizzingly steep switchback trails to the palace itself. Syaoran was torn between clutching at his horse in a death grip and sliding off to stand on his own two feet -- but this horse was Ceres-bred, confident in its footing. Then they were at the top, and Syaoran couldn't tear his gaze away from the view; the long descent down the valley surrounded by massive ice-topped mountains.

"Welcome back, Lord Suwa," an accented voice said from behind them; Syaoran looked quickly around to see a light-haired man in grey clothes inclining his head shallowly in their direction. "We had expected you earlier. They are awaiting you in the meeting room."

"Complain to these guys about us being late, if you want," Kurogane said as he briskly dismounted from his horse and tossed the reins to a stableboy. "It wasn't my idea. But I'm here now, so let's get going wherever the wizard is."

Syaoran moved closer to his teacher, intending to stick with him like glue in this strange new environment. However, the servant frowned and shook his head, pointing to Syaoran. "Excuse me, but this is a very confidential meeting," he said in formal language. "The King himself will be there. Only Lord Suwa is permitted to attend."

Syaoran shook his head. "I go where my master goes," he said stubbornly.

"Sorry, kid," Kurogane muttered out of the side of his mouth. "But this time we're on their home turf, so we play by their rules. Besides, there's no way I'm going to take you into a roomful of wizards just yet; God knows what trouble you'd make."

"But, Sensei!" Syaoran whispered, grabbing the edge of his coat as he turned away. "What should I do? Where should I go?" His voice was filled with suppressed panic, overwhelmed by the surroundings.

"Go wherever. Find other people your own age. Make friends. You're good at making friends. I'm going now," he said, and strode purposefully forward, leaving the boy behind looking around rather forlornly.

Abandoned by his teacher, Syaoran stood helplessly in the doorway of the receiving room, with their gear strewn about them. The important-looking man had vanished into another room along with Kurogane, and everyone else seemed to be going about their various errands. He was just wondering if he ought to gather all their stuff and retreat to the stables, to oversee the care of their horses, when a female servant dressed in light grey appeared at his elbow.

"You're Lord Suwa's servant?" she asked him, in polite but accented Nihongo. "Come with me, I will show you where his room is."

He nodded flustered acknowledgement, gathered up the various bags, and followed her as she turned to go. It annoyed him that she didn't offer to help him carry anything -- he wasn't really a servant, damn it, even if it was one of his duties to help his master with his gear -- did she think she was too good for him, or something? He fumed to himself as he labored through the corridors, through long white hallways and up interminable numbers of stairs.

Surreptitiously, as he followed behind her, he tried to see if there was any tail poking out from under the skirt, or perhaps hidden under the dress. He didn't see anything, somewhat to his disappointment -- but maybe they dropped off when Ceresians grew up, like tadpoles turning into frogs.

They stopped in front of a door in front of a hallway that was smaller, narrower, not so well lit as the main hall; the woman he'd been following flung the door open to reveal the chamber inside. "We've arrived," she declared. "So you can put your things away, and stop trying to peek up my dress."

Syaoran sputtered, seized between embarrassment and outrage. "I was not!" he denied heatedly, not wanting to admit that he'd been trying to do just that, if probably not for the reason she thought.

She turned around in a huff, glowering angrily and with her hands on her hips. "Don't lie, I saw the way you was bobbing your head around," she said. "You'd better not try anything with any of the other staff, or the king'll have your head off your shoulders."

"Gross!" Syaoran yelped loudly. "I'd never -- as though I'd want to look at, or touch any woman in this castle! I'd rather die! Anyway, you're probably all -- "

His stomach growled.

Syaoran shut his mouth, his face flaming so hot with embarrassment that he thought his cheeks just might burst. Of all the things, of all the times -- betrayed by his own stomach in the face of the enemy!

The woman's face slowly grew into a smirk. "Boys are the same the world over," she said smugly. "The stomach is the part that always thinks the loudest."

"W-we've been traveling all day!" Syaoran defended himself, stuttering slightly. "We came all the way from the border without stopping! Nobody offered us anything to eat or drink even once!"

The woman tsked. "Once you have put away your master's belongings, you can run along to the kitchens. I'm sure one of the cooks can spare a snack or two for you," she said.

Syaoran mumbled a thank-you, clutching his own and his sensei's saddlebags around him like armor. The woman smiled at him again and then, to his surprise, gave him an almost motherly pat on his head as she left.

Confused, Syaoran wandered around the small suite of guest rooms -- really it was just two small, sparsely decorated rooms with a connecting door. It was scrupulously clean, not a speck of dust anywhere, the sheets drawn up over the raised platform beds so tightly that not a crease could be seen. At a loss for what else to do, he quickly unpacked his master's bags and arranged the gear on the bed and nearby floor. That done, he looked around.

The bright white lights gave a spartan, almost chilled feel to the chamber, although it was as warm as any castle room he'd been in in Shirasagi. The decorations and furniture were alien, different from what he'd grown accustomed to in Nihon... but rather than leaving him feeling lonely or alienated, the taste of differences was refreshing, and it sharpened and almost-dormant hunger for adventure -- to go new places, investigate new things. It reminded him, nostalgically, of his days traveling with his father.

Ceres had killed his father -- murdered him for no reason. He had to avenge him, didn't he? But if he thought about his father's bespectacled face, his kind voice, he had to admit to himself that he had no idea whether Fujitaka would have approved of that wish. He'd been an adventurer and scholar, not a warrior. His father had wanted to come here, wanted to study Ceres, its language and its cultures… and its people. In a sense, that had been his father's last wish. Was it Syaoran's duty to avenge him, or to carry on his work?

Revenge or study -- he didn't know which was the proper course of action, but one of them wasn't even worth considering when surrounded by this many guards and wizards. He'd have to wait, learn the layout of the castle and where all the guards were anyway. Spontaneously he decided that he would go find the kitchens, after all. If these Ceresians thought he was just going to cower in their spare rooms all day, they had another think coming!

And besides... he really was very hungry.

With his new resolution firmly in place, he tossed his traveling cloak aside, defiantly did not  change to his indoor shoes, and set off to explore his way to the kitchens.

He wandered through the palace corridors -- not quite at random; most buildings had a plan and if you knew what to look for, it wasn't too hard to figure it out. His wide eyes took in everything, flickering over elaborate decorations and peeking surreptitiously into open doorways or through unguarded archways. He avoided hallways that had pairs of guards posted, eyeing them warily as he picked his way around; but gradually he managed to make his way down from level to level, following his nose to the source of the tantalizing, aromatic smoke.

The kitchen was noisy and chaotic. Although the lights down here were no less bright, the drifting smoke and auburn-stained walls lent a more homey tint to the atmosphere, and heat blasting from the many ovens made it almost too warm for comfort. At first Syaoran hung uncertainly back, not wanting to get in the way or draw attention to himself; but gradually he was drawn forward despite himself, fascinated by watching the cooks in action.

The evening meal was clearly in the making, with the main body of action centered in a tight buzz around the main table; Syaoran watched the preparation of a large skinned beast, about the size of a pig but of a different shape, with longer legs and a narrower face. Although he'd never seen one used for food before, he thought it might be a sheep or a mountain goat, surely more suited to this cold mountainous region than the cattle common to the grass plains below.

In Nihon -- among the nobility especially, but even among the peasantry -- freshness was prized above all other qualities of the food. Fruits and vegetables were eaten the same day, if possible; portion sizes were carefully calculated so that there would be no leftover, since any food not eaten immediately was thrown away. Once foodstuff started showing signs of rot or decay, it was considered impure, unclear; it was thrown out immediately so that it would not contaminate the household.

Watching the cooks of Ceres prepare a meal, Syaoran was fascinated by the forthright thriftiness of each motion. As the beast was disassembled, every part of it was used for some part of the meal, or saved to stock to flavor future meals. Root vegetables were being carried up out of a cold room, withered and soft from their long storage; in Nihon, they would have been immediately discarded. But instead, the cooks carefully diced the vegetables and discarded only the rotted parts, adding them to stews for flavor or mashed into paste.

After years of living in Nihon, Syaoran was faintly revolted by seeing the way they prepared the food. But to an older part of him, the Syaoran who had traveled and learned from his father, the foreign way of cooking was just another intriguing facet of the culture to study. Enticed by the delicious smells, Syaoran's stomach growled plaintively again, reminding him that he was meant to eat the food, not look at it. He crept carefully among the long rows of tables, looking for someone he could ask without interrupting something important; he didn't want to just snatch something off the table like a thief.

Perched on a stool in an aisle between two tables, seated in front of a crackling fire, was a girl who immediately stood out from the other servants. Although she was chatting with the cooks, laughing and even peeling away at a potato, she was obviously not a servant herself; her clothes were richer and finer than anything they wore, and her collar, wrists and temples were adorned with delicate silver jewelry. She had bright ginger hair and wide green eyes -- and when she turned her head and her eyes caught the firelight, they seemed to glow with an inner emerald fire of their own.

Without even realizing it, he found he had taken a step forward towards the girl, moving out of his safe place in the shadows. The girl looked up in his direction, and her eyes widened as one hand flew up to cover her mouth in startlement. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed; he voice was high and sweet, like windchimes. "I-I didn't realize anyone was there. You startled me!"

Half a dozen other faces turned towards him, with varying degrees of unfriendliness. "Who are you?" one of the cooks asked; a large burly man, up to his elbows in flour as he was kneading the dough for a loaf the side of Syaoran's legs. "Who let you in here?"

"I… I…" Syaoran stammered; he meant to explain that he'd been invited to come down here by another one of the palace maids, but he found himself inexplicably tongue-tied, and he flushed. "I -- well, I was hungry…" he mumbled.

"You can't just come in here any time you please and expect to be fed!" another cook, a red-cheeked woman with graying hair tied back in a kerchief. "We've got a lot of work to do, you know, without feeding greedy boys as well."

"Oh, Lora, don't be so unkind," the girl protested. "If he's hungry, we should give him something to eat! Surely we have some bread on the side table…?"

"And just who are you, anyway?" demanded a third cook; younger than the first two cooks, but taller and more bony than the girl. "I don't remember seeing you before, and I thought I knew everyone who worked here."

"I," he said, feeling as though he'd been caught out in a lie; then he swallowed and said, "I - I just arrived at the palace today, we came from -- from down in the valley, and -- "

"If you just arrived today then you were traveling and you must be hungry," the girl said firmly. "Come on, I know we have some spare bread, and I think there are some preserves that we can put on it, and perhaps some of the cheese as well. Come on!"

She pulled him over to the side table, and her sponsorship seemed to be enough to buy him acceptance, at least for now; the other cooks turned unwillingly back to their tasks, and soon seemed to put the unexpected intruder out of their minds.

"Your nihongo is very good," she complimented him, as she made busy with a large bread knife to cut slices for both of them, then reached for a large glass jar of dark purple jelly. "Where did you learn it?"

He realized she had gotten entirely the wrong idea about him; he rushed to correct her misapprehension, not wanting her to think he'd been deliberately deceiving them. "Yes, I, um -- I lived there. I came from Nihon, you see, with the Japanese ambassador…"

The girl's face lit up in a smile, an amazing wide smile that seemed to illuminate her from within and made her eyes sparkle. "If you came in with the ambassador from Nihon, then you must be a friend of Kurogane-san's!" she cried, grabbing his hands in a warm squeeze of friendship. "I'm so glad to meet you! What did you say your name was?"

"Sh-Syaoran," he stuttered, heat suddenly rising in his face at her nearness. Too embarrassed to meet her eyes, he looked down; but her gaze followed his down to their joined hands, and she exclaimed in dismay.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I had jam all over my hands, and I just reached out and grabbed you… I've gotten you all sticky. Please forgive me…"

She handed him a towel, and he quickly took it and wiped his hands on it, then offered it back to her so she could wipe her own hands off. "It’s nothing to be worried about," he said quickly, but then realized that he hadn’t gotten her name in return. "Miss…?"

"Sakura," she said, and her cheeks dimpled as that wide smile returned. "But just Sakura will do, you don't have to call me 'Miss' anything."

"If you say so, Miss -- er, I mean, Sakura," he finished rather lamely, and she giggled at him. He smiled back rather foolishly, thinking how nice she was; even when she laughed, he didn't feel like she was making fun of him, or that she thought he was stupid, even if he was making a fool of himself.

They finished making the jam-and-bread sandwiches, and sat for a few moments in silence, munching on them and watching the rest of the kitchen at work. He kept stealing glances out of the corner of his eye, noticing how her clothes and manner were different from everyone else's here. His curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "You aren't a cook, are you? I mean, you aren't a cook who works here, are you?"

"No, I'm not," she said, and she made a little face. "Though sometimes I wish I were. I don't work here, but I like to come down here sometimes and help prepare the evening meal, or to cook something special. I like cooking! The cook always says that you can put your feelings into your food, even special dishes will taste better if they've been made with love."

Her smile faded, and a sad look shadowed her eyes, made the firelight dance in them. "Even though he can't eat what I make anymore," she said, so quietly that he almost couldn't hear her.

"I -- I'm sorry," he said. He was chagrined at having brought up a topic that obviously made her sad; she must have lost someone, he thought, a family member or maybe a boyfriend. Maybe someone who had died in the war last fall? He didn't like that thought, didn't like the uncomfortable realization that his own country was not the only one who had suffered losses. The thought sent a pang of guilt through him, and he hurried past it. "B-but I'm sure everybody appreciates that you help to cook!"

"Yes!" She smiled back at him, her good cheer restored. "I like to be able to help, at least a little. Then I know when everybody sits down to eat at dinner, at least a little bit of my feelings go out to everybody!" She glanced guiltily at the table by the fire, the heap of unpeeled vegetables that she'd abandoned.

"I -- I'd like to help too!" he blurted out. "I've had enough to do for now. My master doesn't need me for anything right away, so… maybe I could help you?"

"Sure!" she said enthusiastically, and darted away to drag a second stool up to the fire, and handed him another knife. Syaoran set to the fire with a will, thinking that for all that he'd come a hundred miles away from his teacher's house, he seemed to be facing the same list of chores.

But somehow, as the girl bent to peeling beside him, he couldn't even begin to mind.

-------------------------

The seasons had changed, war and peace had changed, but the palace seemed to be exactly the same as he remembered. With every step he took through the palace corridors, Kurogane's nagging sense of urgency grew. He'd felt the pull of it for days, ever since he'd been summoned before Amaterasu in Shirasagi, but it was rising to an unbearable pitch. Fai was here, somewhere in this grand building, waiting for him; they had been apart for too long already.

His guide led him along familiar white-walled corridors lit by brightly burning lamps, into a small conference chamber crowded with people. King Ashura dominated the crowd as always, his dark sable robe standing out among the assembled white-robed wizards like a crow among doves. He stared narrowly at Kurogane as the warrior entered, but did not seem to be in a hurry to speak.

Kurogane's eyes darted from face to face, seeking out the people he knew; he recognized Yukito, looking strained, and a few other wizards. The familiar shock of straw-gold hair, however, was disappointingly absent.

He was glad when Yukito stepped forward to greet him;  the pale-skinned, ash-haired seer was the single person in Ceres he was on friendliest terms with apart from Fai himself. "Kurogane Demon-Queller, Lord of Suwa," Yukito greeted him formally, "Welcome to Ruval Castle, the heart of the Ceres Empire. I greet you in the name of our master, His Royal Majesty Ashura Ceresu, and give you our welcome -- and gratitude, for traveling so speedily in response to our letter."

"Greetings. I accept your welcome and your thanks," Kurogane said rather brusquely. And because he, like Amaterasu, was samurai,  he pushed aside his impatience for long enough to look Yukito straight in the eye, and then bow deeply.

"I and all my country owe you thanks, Yukito Tsukishiro, Second Senior Wizard of Ceres," he said, loud enough for his voice to carry to every part of the room. "As do all living human beings. Your speedy response -- and the bravery of you and the men you commanded -- saved uncountable numbers of our people from certain death and our country from destruction. I have fought the demons all my life. I cannot express in words how total the devastation would be that you spared us from. I hope that your own country honors you as highly. Know that you have the gratitude of every subject of the Nihon empire, and the service of any warrior of the samurai class, should you choose to draw on your boundless debt."

Yukito blushed; in his colorless face it was impossible to hide, the pink spreading up his face through his cheeks right to his hairline. He glanced around uneasily, and Kurogane saw Ashura scowl disapprovingly, but he really could not give a damn. "No debt is owed to me, Lord of Suwa," he said uncomfortably. "I -- that is, it was the work of my comrades, the wizards of Ceres, at the command of King Ashura to whom you owe your thanks. And, um, I'm no longer Second Senior to the King," he added miserably.

"Really. I must be behind on the news," Kurogane said. He decided to let the matter drop; he wasn't here to piss off the King, as satisfying as it was, he was here to see Fai. "All right. You called me, I'm here. What's this all about? And where's the wizard? Why isn't he here?"

A ripple went out through the receiving room; not exactly a mutter or a sigh, but a definite reaction from each person. Yukito's expression did not change, and at first Kurogane thought he should clarify which wizard he meant; but then Yukito glanced around, took a deep breath, and turned to face Kurogane squarely. "Fai is in his rooms," he said, seeming to take a moment to gather his nerves, and said, "He is… very ill. He did not come to greet you because he no longer has the strength to leave his chambers."

"Ill?" Kurogane stared at Yukito, feeling the heat and color drain out of his face as his worst fears were confirmed.

Yukito nodded gravely, his strange amber eyes reflecting compassion. "He never completely recovered from the battle against the Master of Demons," he said. "When he returned to us, injured --"

"Not just injured," Kurogane said flatly. "Mutilated. Do you understand what was done to him? Did you understand what he'd become?"

He saw remembered sorrow and pity that flitted across Yukito's expression. "Yes," he said, in a matter-of-fact voice. "That his nature had been changed to that of a vampire. That he required human blood to live. We understood."

Kurogane breathed out silently; at least the idiot Fai hadn't tried to hide that from them. "And then…?" he prompted, although he had a bad feeling he knew what was coming.

"He was… reluctant to feed, at first," Yukito confessed. "Although several people volunteered their blood, they were willing to try… but he wasted away, and nothing we could do was able to reach him. We hoped -- we still hope -- that you would be able to succeed where we failed."

There was a mutter of agreement that ran all around the crowd, but he barely aware of the dozen pairs of eyes on him, torn between hostility and hope. Instead, he felt a knot of anger pulsing in his chest, threatening with each beat to expand and choke him. His vision was red around the edges. He promised, Kurogane seethed, nearly bursting with the effort not to rage aloud. He promised that this wouldn't happen again. I leave him alone for three months and this is what happens?

"I understand," he said, keeping his voice civil with some difficulty.

"I don't think you do," someone called out from the crowd; the nihongo was less polished than Yukito's, stiffly polite, but unmistakably hostile. Kurogane was a bit surprised to recognize the wizard; it was the short, rude, ginger-haired boy who'd helped dig him out of the mountainside last fall. His intense green eyes glared with the promise of dire retribution. "Lord Flowright is one of ours. He is… the most eldest, the most respected. He has taught and guided us for many years. We will not allow any harm to come to him."

"A little late for that now, isn't it?" Kurogane returned, but then made an effort to contain his anger. This… protectiveness, he realized, was not really directed at him; it was a defensive response to nearly losing the man they obviously all cared about; as the outsider, the foreign warrior who'd been so wrapped up in events around Fai's devastating wound, it was no surprise that their anger would transfer onto him. That didn't mean he had to like it, though.

"You'd better be able to help him," another voice told him curtly; a short, gruff, older-looking man, not one Kurogane knew well from his previous stay. "You'd better not hurt him, or you won't live to regret it, outsider."

Kurogane rolled his eyes and did not comment, not wanting to get tangled up in a display of bravado posturing now, so close to his goal. "Are we done talking?" he snapped. "I'd like to go see him now if possible. The sooner I can start, the sooner, I can convince him to eat."

He'd expected Yukito to escort him around, like he had the last time; it was something of a surprise when Ashura rose and swept out of the chamber before him, with a gesture signaling his attendants and guards to remain. The king nodded a curt acknowledgement at him, and swept off down the hallway. Kurogane followed close behind, eyeing him suspiciously and hoping he wasn't being set up for something.

"I do not want you to underestimate the severity of the situation that caused me to call you here," the king said, and the gravity of his deep, carefully controlled voice still sent a warning tingle through Kurogane. "Outsiders -- especially warriors from Nihon -- are still strictly forbidden. You are seeing what no other barbarian is privileged to see, walking where no others are permitted."

"I've been here before," Kurogane said, irritation sweeping through him; he made little effort to hide it in his voice. "You were the one who wanted me to come so badly."

"Yes. As a last, desperate measure," Ashura said, frowning. "You were able to… help him before. I hope that you can persuade him to eat now. He is like a son to me, Lord Suwa, and I love him. For the sake of his health, I am willing to bend even the laws which protect our country --"

"Oh, cut the crap. These are your laws -- this is all your doing in the first place!" Kurogane snarled. He knew it was unwise, but this was just too much to swallow. Ashura stopped short and whirled around, fury in his eyes as he glared at Kurogane. Kurogane met his anger with a defiant glare of his own, drawing himself up to his full height, inches towering over the king. "You know why he's dying now -- because of what that bastard Seishirou did to him, when you sent him out there like a lamb to the slaughter! What kind of pathetic excuse for a liege-lord are you?"

"A barbarian like you would never understand." Every word seemed to drip with ice, crystallized fangs threatening a poisoned bite. "Everything is for the sake of my country. When I took the throne here, we were a tiny country, a pitiful backwater of squabbling minor nobles with no land, no men, and no army. I remade this country from the ground up to be a land to be proud of, a nation to respect, a nation to fear. And we aren't finished yet. Before my day is done, Ceres will be a name known and feared all over this world. Fai understands; my vision is his. He is as devoted to this land as I, and he understands the necessity of sacrifice."

Kurogane looked aside, breaking the clash of wills between them. "You can lie to your subjects -- maybe you can even lie to yourself," he said. "But I'm not fooled. I was there; I know. I helped him escape from the demon-master's cellar; I cleaned the blood out of his eye after he got out of that hellish pit. I saw his magic smeared all over the walls of his cell, pinned there by the geas you put on him. You sent him out to meet the enemy with his magic crippled, and you know you did. You're every bit as much to blame for what happened to him as that monster is."

"You can't possibly understand my reasons," Ashura started.

"I think I do, Your Majesty," Kurogane said through his teeth, then pushed past the furious king and set his foot on the bottom step. He was done with this conversation, done with King Ashura.

He paused only long enough to shoot back over his shoulder: "You did it because you were angry with him, and jealous, because he was in love with me. You did it because you wanted to punish him. Well, Your Majesty, you got what you wanted."

He turned his back on Ashura, and took the steps to Fai's chamber three at a time.

Chapter Text

Fanart for this chapter!
Sakura and Syaoran hold hands by konnichipuu 
Sick Fai in the sunlight by konnichipuu 
What Kurogane sees (lucky him) by culacuuby 
I'm so lucky. ;_;

This was the first time he'd ever been in Fai's private chambers. When last he'd been in Ceres, he and Fai had still been estranged, and he'd never been invited. The winding stone staircase topped out on a landing just large enough for the heavy wooden door to open; there was no room for guards to be stationed here. As he pushed open the heavy oaken door and strode inside, a part of his mind automatically scanned the room and took stock of his surroundings, assessing potential threats or resources.
 
Even if he'd never known Fai, it would have been obvious that this was a learned man's room. Three of the walls of the main chamber -- and more glimpsed through doorways opening to smaller chambers on the side -- were lined with shelves groaning under the heavy weight of books. An unusually wide, south-facing window caught a large wedge of sunlight; a large desk had been positioned to take advantage of the light, motes of dust filtering up in the sunbeams from its rich, dark-brown varnished surface. Yet more books were piled haphazardly on the corner of the desk, and papers were merging into an untidy pile beyond it, with an impressive rack of quill pens and ink-blotters standing ready beyond. A glass globe lamp positioned on the wall above the desk was not lit, although it caught and kindled a bright white light in its crystal facets from the sunlight.
 
Yet despite the library-like atmosphere, this place definitely had the feel of being lived-in, and for a long time. Narrow, framed squares of art decorated what of the walls was left free by the bookshelves, the pictures seeming overly colorful and chaotic to Kurogane's eye; they reminded him of their owner. A large, four-poster bed piled high with cushions and furry covers occupied the darker corner of the room, leading Kurogane to wonder what the other rooms were for, if not separate for sleeping. Other items cluttered every free surface, failing to register as meaningful to Kurogane's eye; whether tools or decorations or whimsical toys he didn't know.
 
All this imprinted on Kurogane's eyes in a matter of seconds, then was pushed to the back of his mind as his gaze locked on the chair set beside the window, out of the way of the beam of sunlight, and the man sitting within.
 
He didn't know what he'd been expecting to see, not really. His mounting frustration over the past endless weeks, the hesitance and refusal to speak on the part of the other wizards… all of it had gone to fuel his anxiety to roaring heights. He thought his paranoia had imagined every way this meeting could go, every way that things could possibly go bad.

He'd been wrong.

 
Fai was clean and freshly washed, his hair tied back neatly at the nape of his neck. He was wearing indoor clothes of the Ceres style; soft, but richly decorated with colored thread and elaborate embroidery. Even the patch over his eye had been given a stylized, subtle design, and the blanket that was wrapped around the man's legs and piled in his lap was equally decorated.
 
The incongruity of the luxurious setting left Kurogane dizzy; because apart from being clean and dressed, Fai looked so like he had that night in Seishirou's dungeon that the sight of him struck Kurogane like a blow. His skin was dry and papery, drawn so tight into sunken cheeks that his face almost resembled a skull. His wrists and hands -- all that was visible of him under the concealing long sleeves and high collar -- were painfully emaciated, every bone and tendon visible under the skin.
 
His eyes had been closed when Kurogane burst in, the purple-shadowed eyelid giving evidence to the exhaustion that hung around him like a pall, as though just sitting upright in the chair was all that he could do. As Kurogane's footsteps clattered loudly through his sanctuary, the wizard opened his eye, revealing a cloudy dark gold iris beneath; but he did not look up or turn his head.
 
He looked like a man on his last legs, a man in the grip of some terrible wasting illness; like a month-old corpse dressed up in party clothes and propped up for display, and it was sick. Kurogane knew what he had to do, what he had been called here to do, and a part of him longed to rush over to the pitiful figure in the chair and offer his blood, slit open a vein on the spot. He wasn't worried that Fai would refuse him; Fai had never been able to refuse him before, not on the really important things.
 
But he was stayed by the storm of emotions that surged up in him, seeing his lover like this, the man he'd loved and fought and sacrificed for brought so low. And for what? For someone who valued his life so little that he would let himself starve to death while he continued to cling stubbornly to -- what? Pride, guilt, shame, regret, sheer bloody-minded stubbornness? For what?
 
"You stupid idiot," was all he could manage to say, barely able to give voice to his rage. "You utter moronic asshole."
 
"We haven't seen each other in three months and already he's calling me names," Fai remarked to the air, as if addressing an unseen audience. "This is exactly the sort of thing I have to put up with from him."
 
"You haven't fed, not even once," Kurogane raged. "You promised me that you would. You gave your word! Is this what your promises are worth?!"
 
"Shall I become a parasite prince, then?" Fai inquired brightly, still not turning his head to meet Kurogane's gaze. "Shall I raise my people as food, to be fattened like cows and led to the slaughter to satisfy my base desires? No, thank you; my father the late king of Valeria once walked that road, but I will not."
 
"Cut the righteous crap!" Kurogane snarled, and in three long strides he had crossed the chamber and seized Fai by the collar, yanking him around to face him. "It's not the same thing, it's nothing like the same thing! I practically had to wade through people downstairs who were ready to hand me my head on a platter if I so much as looked at you funny. You selfish shit, you made everyone worry! How long have they had to watch you waste away? You put Sakura through that, and Yukito, and Gods help me I can't stand the man, but Ashura too! How bad does it have to get before he stoops to asking me for favors? You made me travel all this way from Edo, to find you like this --"
 
"I didn't ask him to send for you," Fai snapped, glaring at Kurogane at last. He put a hand up and tried to push Kurogane's arm away, but Kurogane could feel his hand trembling with weakness and there was no strength in the motion. "Any of them! In fact, I explicitly told them not to, until they decided to ignore me --"
 
"Then they should have ignored you weeks ago!" Kurogane raged. "They shouldn't have needed to send for me at all, none of this needed to happen, if not for your Gods-damned stubbornness and self-pity! How can I ever be expected to turn my back on you, only to find that you let everything go to hell the moment I'm out of sight? For fuck's sake! Are you a man, or are you a toddler throwing a tantrum? I can't babysit you and force you to take your medicine for the rest of your life!"
 
"Nobody asked you to babysit me," Fai said lowly, dangerously, and his expression went feral as the shape of his eye shifted, the pupil contracting into a slit line as he raised his face into the sunlight to glare poisonously at Kurogane. "If I'm so much trouble to you, then just go! I didn't want you to come here anyway. You never wanted to burden yourself with me in the first place, so what does it matter to you if I do die?"
 
"It matters because I love you!" Kurogane shouted at the top of his lungs. A very small part of his mind wondered how well soundproofed Fai's rooms were, and how this conversation would sound to the wizards waiting below. "I promised you that I wouldn't let myself die, because you said you loved me too, you said you needed me! Well, I need you to live for me, too -- you swore that you would give me something to come back to! I kept my word -- why didn't you keep yours?"
 
Fai's only answer was a wordless, inhuman snarl. His hands flashed up to grab the edges of Kurogane's shirt, talons unsheathing from his fingers to prick against the skin of Kurogane's chest. His lips peeled back, exposing long, predatory fangs. "Is this what you love, Kurogane-san?" he hissed. "This monster? Demon-slayer that you are, can you look me in the eye and still say --"
 
Kurogane had never been a man of words. He pulled Fai out of his chair, his body as light as a doll's in Kurogane's arms, letting the blanket slither to the floor unnoticed; and once Fai was of a close enough height, he leaned down and furiously kissed him.
 
Fai's breath was terrible and his teeth were jagged and sharp under Kurogane's lips, but he didn't care; he felt a small pain as the sharp edge of Fai's fangs dragged over his bottom lip, and tasted the raw iron tang of blood between them. Fai made a needy, desperate sound, and lunged up to wrap his arms around Kurogane's neck, crushing himself against the bigger man. He returned the kiss with a wild fervor, lips and teeth and tongues crashing together; then, with a deep and shaky breath, he ducked his head, pressed his mouth against Kurogane's neck, and bit down.
 
This time, Kurogane wasn't at all afraid, he didn't even feel the mild revulsion of the second feeding. Because he'd been missing Fai and longing for him for months, and as the fangs sank into his skin and the blood began to flow, the blood bond which had been dormant for months sprang back to life between them. It was like something missing had finally snapped back into place, the empty aching place inside of him had suddenly been filled again.
 
He could feel Fai's presence again, feel the searing desperate heat of his emotions, could almost taste the bright hot blood which was life passing between them. Mine, you're mine, I won't share this with anyone else, he gloated, and then wasn't sure where that had come from; was that Fai's thought or his own? But it was true; as much as he raged at Fai for refusing to feed from others, as angry and horrified he was that Fai had sunk to this desperate state, the truth was… the truth was, he didn't want to share Fai with anyone else this way. It was too intimate, too strong, and too beautiful.
 
His knees were going weak and he staggered, his arms still full of Fai, and a quick and fleeting glance around was enough to get his bearings. He twisted them around and then stumbled backwards, letting momentum take them to the edge of Fai's bed where he crashed over backwards, Fai landing on top. The vampire did not release his hold despite the impact, shifting around to wrap his arms desperately around Kurogane's shoulders and his legs around Kurogane's hips.
 
The change in position brought their groins together in a jolt of friction and pleasure, pleasure that reverberated along the blood bond from one back to another. Kurogane groaned, and he grabbed Fai's hips mindlessly to pull him back again. Yes, you're mine, they thought between them, and more, please don't stop. They were only half-aware of the sunny bedroom around them, the velvet-soft covers beneath them; all they could sense was each other, the sweet friction of their urgent grinding and the rush of emotions passing from one to another. Later on there would be time for words, to ask each other questions and give promises; for now, it was enough just to feel each other.
 
Fai didn't last long; the mixed rush of energy flowing through his body along with Kurogane's blood and the hungry pressure of their bodies after so long apart was too much for him. He gasped aloud, his fangs unsheathing from Kurogane's neck as he threw his head back, his hips spasming forward against Kurogane's groin as he came. The bright moment of ecstasy echoed back over the blood bond, still strong and powerful even after breaking contact; Kurogane shuddered and groaned, burying his face in Fai's hair as he felt the sticky warmth flood his trousers.
 
For long minutes afterwards they lay together, not saying anything, just listening to each other breathe. Kurogane monitored his own heartbeat, felt the dizziness in his head and the weakness in his limbs speaking of blood loss; but it was not nearly as bad as it had been in previous times, and he was used to pushing through injury and debilitation. Fai hadn't hurt him, not that Kurogane had expected him to.
 
Eventually Kurogane reached out and took Fai's chin, tilted his face upwards so he could see it in the light. Already, he marveled. Just that, and it's amazing how much better he looks. Still too thin, I can see the bones under his skin, but at least he doesn't feel like he's going to break under my hands any more. It really isn’t like normal hunger at all.
 
"Enough for a start," he murmured, kissing Fai's forehead. "More later." The wizard made an unhappy sound, but was too smart to protest.
 
They lapsed into an exhausted silence, pressed tight into each other's arms, while sunlight poured through the window casement and made the motes of dust dance on the air.
 
 
---------------------
 
 
Peeling potatoes had given way to mincing fine strips of meat, and then grinding lumps of rock salt and spices in a mortar, but the time seemed to fly away under Syaoran's hands as he drank in the pretty girl's company. His willingness to work seemed to have sweetened the other kitchen workers on him; they no longer complained about his presence, and even gave him and Sakura small samples of that night's dessert. There was a temporary break, now, between the preparation of food and the washing of dishes; the two of them were spending it sharing a small slice of fruit-glazed cake. Syaoran could not believe his luck.
 
"Syaoran-san, if you came with Kurogane-san, you're from Nihon, right?" she asked. "I'm trying to practice my Nihongo. Father says everyone at court has to learn, but I don't want to just be okay at it -- I want to be as good as I can be! For that, I really need the help of someone who's a native speaker. Maybe we could practice together, and you could help me with my accent?"
 
"I think your pronunciation is very good already," Syaoran assured her. "But -- I mean, it's not that I wouldn't want to help you, but actually, I'm not a native speaker either. I wasn't born in Nihon. I came from a country far away from here, a country called Clow -- you've probably never heard of it."
 
"Ehh? Really?" She almost dropped her fork, and her eyes went wide with amazement. "So you haven't just seen one other country -- you've seen two?!"
 
"A-actually, I've seen a lot of countries," he said, puffing his chest up a little bit at her look of wide-eyed admiration. "My father was a scholar, an archaeologist -- someone who studies old things. He traveled to a lot of different countries, looking for rare things in different places, and I went with him. After he -- after he died, I went to Nihon to study swordsmanship under my Master."
 
To his own surprise, he found that he didn't want to tell this girl exactly how his father had died. He was sure it would make her sad, and he realized he didn't want to make her sad. Although he still blamed the wizards of Ceres for the death of his father, and he would like nothing so much as to throw it in their faces and accuse them, cry out for justice, he forced himself to admit that this young girl was not to blame. She was about his age -- she would only have been a child at the time, too.
 
"Wow…" she breathed, not seeming to notice his sudden withdrawal. "That's really cool! Getting to go to so many places and meet lots of people. I've always wanted to travel, I've always dreamed of getting out of the palace, but --" she looked down at the crumbs remaining on the plate, fiddling uncomfortably with her hands.
 
"The palace is all I've ever known, and the people here are the only ones I ever see. Everyone's nice, but… sometimes I get lonely for new people." She looked back up at Syaoran, and flashed another bright smile. "New people like Syaoran-san! That's why I have to study Nihongo really hard, so that when I meet new people, I can talk with them!"
 
"I think that you shouldn't have to practice Nihongo if you don't want to," he said. "Because I've only heard a little of it so far, but I think that the Ceres language is really beautiful. My father would have -- would have loved to hear it. I think you should speak your own language if you want to."
 
"Really?" she said, obviously touched by the compliment. "I-if you'd like to hear more, I could say something…"
 
"Yes, please do," he said immediately.
 
She smiled at him, then shifted her stance slightly, took a deep breath, and said a long sentence in the same liquid, musical language that he'd heard the guards at the border speaking. He heard his own name "Syaoran" go past, but couldn't understand any of the rest of it. In her voice, the rough gutturals were gentled, the harsh consonants softened, and he felt a shiver go through him as the words rippled past, even though he couldn't understand them.
 
"What… what did you say?" he said in a hushed voice, after she stopped.
 
She blushed slightly, her cheeks turning a delicate pink, and avoided meeting his eyes as she translated. "I said… um… 'Syaoran-san is pretty cute and really cool. He's been to many different places and knows so much. I hope I get a chance to know him better.' Well, something like that. Some of the words aren’t exactly…" She trailed off. "Sorry, I know it's kind of rude to talk about somebody in a language they don't understand…"
 
"Syaoran," he blurted out, and hastened to clarify when she blinked at him in confusion. "J-just plain Syaoran. If I'm not supposed to call you 'Miss Sakura,' then you have to call me just Syaoran."
 
"Okay… Syaoran," she said, smiling at him. Helplessly, he smiled back.
 
A shadow fell over them as someone moved in front of the fire. "Your Highness?" a gruff voice interrupted them, and they both looked up at once to the face of an unsmiling guard. "What are you doing here, without an escort? And who is this boy?"
 
"Oh, Ferio," Sakura exclaimed, addressing the guard with a hint of exasperation and fond familiarity. "I know I'm safe in our palace's own kitchens! This is Syaoran. He came with the Nihon ambassador this afternoon, and he offered to help me cook dinner."
 
Highness? Syaoran's throat swiveled around to stare incredulously at Sakura, and his mouth went dry with disbelief. No… it can't be… And yet, she wasn't correcting him…
 
"Someone of your station shouldn't be helping the servants in the first place," the guard retorted, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Syaoran. "Princess, you know the law. No outsiders are supposed to know of your presence, let alone talk to you so familiarly --"
 
"Oh, please!" She gave the older man a pleading look, with big, sparkly green eyes. "It'll be fine! I already know Kurogane-san, and Syaoran came with him and is his trusted student. They've already been cleared to enter the palace in the first place, Yukito and Fai-niisan and Father all said it's okay for them to be here, so we know they're not our enemies. Syaoran is very nice, I'm sure he would never do anything he shouldn't. Can't you just let him stay here, Ferio? It's been so long since I had someone of my own age to talk to…"
 
The guard sighed in exasperation. "If King Ashura were to find out about this, he'd have a fit," he remonstrated. "He wasn't even happy about you associating with that Suwa barbarian! The rules were created for your own protection, you know that. It's just too dangerous for any outsiders to see you."
 
"Father doesn't have to know, he's so busy with the clan heads right now," Sakura protested. "Syaoran would never hurt me. He's my friend, and I don't have very many friends. Please just let him alone. Besides, he's already seen me once already, so the rule's already been broken, hasn't it? Sending him away now won't change that."
 
The guard glared at Syaoran, who stared back in a kind of frozen horror. Part of his mind gibbered at him about the wicked fur-clad guards of Ceres, and how his father had been taken away by them and never seen again. But the main part of his mind kept running in little circles and returning in panic to a single yelped word: Princess?!
 
"Oh, all right," the guard finally surrendered ungraciously. "I won't throw him out on his tail. But you are not leaving my sight again, understand? I'll remain until you're ready to go back to your chambers, and then I'll escort you."
 
"Thank you, Ferio!" Sakura said brightly; the light-haired man retreated, keeping a watchful eye on Syaoran the whole time. She turned back to Syaoran. "I'm sorry about that," she said in a low-pitched tone. "You'd think I'd be safe enough in here of all places, in the middle of the palace with guards everywhere, but they never --"
 
"Princess?" Syaoran squeaked out; it seemed to be all his mind was capable of. "You're a princess? The princess, I mean, princess of Ceres, the King's daughter? That princess?"
 
Sakura nodded. "King Ashura is my father," she said, a certain wariness in her voice. "I -- I don't have any other siblings, so I'm the only one."
 
"I'm sorry!" Syaoran blurted, horrified by his own presumption. "I had no idea who you were! I, I didn't even know King Ashura had  a daughter? I'm so, so sorry if I offended -- or said anything --"
 
"No, no, how could you?" Sakura interrupted him, and he could tell by her voice that she was slightly upset, the way she agitatedly swiped a lock of hair back out of her face. "It's this silly law again. It's been in place ever since I was born. No one outside of Ceres is supposed to meet me, or even know who I am. Even inside Ceres, not everyone knows about me -- I think some places think I'm just a rumor or a ghost story. I'm never allowed to leave the castle, or meet anyone from the outside -- except you."
 
Despite his lingering panic over the unexpected revelation, Syaoran couldn't help but react to the catch in his voice. "That -- that's terrible," he said, slowly relaxing his death-grip on the edge of the table. "It's like you’re a prisoner in your own home. It sounds… really lonely."
 
"It is lonely," she admitted in a tiny voice; but then a shaky smile appeared on her face. "But it's not so lonely now that you're here, Syaoran."
 
Daringly, he reached out and took her hand in his own, and nearly burst with happiness when her smile became more real, and she returned his grip.
 
 
---------------------
 
 
"Why didn't you send for me?" Kurogane asked at last, quietly now, all the fury and passion drained out of his voice; although he was still angry, simmeringly angry, all the urgency was gone. "I almost came too late. What if I had arrived a week later and found you dead? What would I have done then?"
 
"I'm sorry," Fai whispered.
 
"Don't be sorry. Don't do it in the first place," Kurogane said in irritation. "You never did tell me why. Why didn't you keep your promise, why wouldn't you feed?"
 
"I tried," Fai said softly, and turned his face away, so that only a crescent of his face showed.
 
Kurogane blinked, then sat up, scowling at his lover. "What?" he said.
 
"I tried… to keep my promise," Fai said, still looking away. "I couldn't. It just didn't work. I… it seems that I can't drink any blood but yours, Kuro-sama."
 
"What? You -- " Kurogane repeated, disbelief suffusing his voice. A dozen different reactions, responses, emotions crowded his mind; shock, chagrin, anger, jealousy. It was a measure of how off-balance he was that the first question he allowed to escape his lips was: "With who?"
 
"Yukito," Fai said, the confession made in a very small voice. That was all he said, but the blood bond between them was still so strong and recent that the memory swirled up between them, Kurogane seeing it as Fai had. The laboratory chamber, doors locked and curtains drawn against the outside world. Yukito's face, pale and intent and concerned and a little pained, as he holds one bleeding palm over a silver goblet. When the goblet is half-full he pulls back, wraps gauze around his hand, then lifts the goblet and carries it over to Fai, who takes it in shaking hands and hesitates, then raises it to his lips. It's just food, he tells himself. Nothing to be ashamed about. It is freely given, not begrudged. And he drinks.
 
And he chokes, the silver chalice falling from his hand and banging on the smooth stone floors, blood spattering in a wide and wasted arc on the cobblestones. Yukito's alarmed face, seen out of the corner of watering eyes as he falls to his knees, coughing and retching and trying to bring up the burning liquid, the wrong blood, before it chokes him. Coughing and coughing…
 
The vision faded away, and Kurogane was left agape. "Why --" he began, his mind already searching for an explanation, a way out of it. "Was it just because of something in his blood, then? The other demons never -- "
 
"Not his. Yours," Fai corrected in a very hopeless and weary voice. "After that experiment, we… ran some tests, we tried to work out the rules of my new nature. It's because of the geas, at least, that's what we think. It was broken and twisted and distorted by Seishirou's magic, but it was never completely removed, and then it fused with the magic of the demon transformation. The geas was meant to bind me to you, and so it has -- yours is the only blood that I can take life and strength from."
 
"Can't you just get rid of the geas?" Kurogane demanded. "Ashura put it on you -- just make him take it off!"
 
Fai sighed, and leaned forward until his forehead rested against the carved wooden headboard. "We tried," he said, and his voice was reduced to almost a whisper. "We couldn't. Please, Kuro-tan, don't tax me about this. We tried everything we could to get rid of it, but it's gone too deep now. The only way to end the geas is with my death -- or if the original conditions of the geas were to be fulfilled. In other words, with your death. Until then, I am bound to you… and no other in this world."
 
Kurogane sat back a little, stunned, trying to wrap his mind around this new revelation. "Why didn't you tell me this right away?" he demanded, unable to stop himself from pushing the matter despite Fai's exhausted plea. "If you had just told me what was going on, instead of letting me think that you'd chosen to refuse to feed -- why did you just sit there and let me yell at you, instead?"
 
Fai raised his head and turned back to look sideways at Kurogane. "Kuro-noisy was in a yelling mood," he said dryly. "I don't really see how anything I could have done would have stopped him until he'd satisfied his need to yell."
 
"You --! Don't make me sound like I'm some sort of --" Kurogane sputtered, groping for the words and then shying away from them. His temper was beginning to rouse again, spurred on by guilt for the way he had unjustly yelled accusations and insults and harangued Fai for something that was not his fault.
 
A thought occurred to him, and inflamed his temper further. "Wait a minute! How, how long ago did you try to feed from Yukito?"
 
There was a moment of resistance, but Fai must have known that he could not conceal anything from Kurogane so soon after feeding, because he replied simply, "Two months. Three weeks after I returned to Ceres."
 
"So you knew -- you knew for two months, that you couldn't drink the blood of anyone here --"
 
"We didn't know then, we only suspected, it took us some time to try to analyze --"
 
"So you suspected for two months that you would starve to death," Kurogane said, raising his voice to shout over Fai's. " --And you didn't send for me until just one week ago?! What the hell, mage!"
 
"I told you that Kuro-drama wanted to yell," Fai said, "and that he would keep on yelling no matter what I told him."
 
Kurogane refused to be deterred. Fai had been inching steadily away from him throughout the entire argument; he reached out and grabbed Fai's shoulder, dragging the lighter man around to face him. "Why didn't you send for me?!"
 
Fai brought his gaze up to meet Kurogane's, his one golden eye meeting Kurogane's two; and although he didn't do a bad job of keeping his face blank and neutral, the look in his eye made Kurogane feel like he'd been sucker-punched. He stayed silent, but the answer still rang between them, as clearly as if he'd said it aloud: Because I was afraid you wouldn't come.
 
The anger drained away, and Kurogane raised a hand slowly through the air to brush against Fai's cheek, then run his fingers through Fai's hair and cup the back of his head. "You fool," he murmured, the tenderness in his voice belying the insult. "Don't you know I was going out of my mind, fretting at home, waiting for some word from you? I would have come. I would have come in an instant if only I'd known."
 
He paused for a moment, feeling the uncertain silence; the words, while true, felt somehow incomplete. He felt his way slowly from one realization to the next. "Back in Seishirou's dungeon, I offered you my blood," he said. "I volunteered, and that's as good as a promise, isn't it? It's as good as an oath. Whatever you need from me, I'll be here for you. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive, for as long as you need, for the rest of both our lives if that's what it takes. I so swear on my honor as a samurai."
 
It was a solemn oath, and an offer that startled him even as he made it; by saying it, he'd made a vow of loyalty equal in strength and obligation to that of his liege lord, Tomoyo. But he couldn't, wouldn't rescind that oath. The decision had been made months ago, in a dark and stinking dungeon slimy with stone; he refused to regret it now.
 
A dam seemed to break in Fai, and he flung himself forward, grabbing onto Kurogane and holding tight with a desperation that was almost painful. He was shivering as if he were cold; as Kurogane, startled, brought his arms up to wrap around his lover, rubbed awkwardly over the skin to warm him up. "Hey," he murmured. "What's wrong now?"
 
"I was afraid --" Fai choked out, then his words failed him. But they still rushed between his skin and Kurogane's, back and forth with every beat of his heart. I was afraid you wouldn't come. I was afraid it was too much to ask of you, even you, too much to ask of anyone. I was afraid to ask and have you say no, because if you refuse me then I will die, and more than anything else in the world I was afraid to die alone.
 
"Idiot mage," Kurogane whispered into his hair, dismay tightening his throat as he began to realize just how close to the edge Fai had come. He didn't understand it, he just didn't understand it; feeling the primal core of terror that Fai had felt, as hunger tightened its grip on him and every day brought him closer to death, how he had still refused to call for help; for that fear of the rejection that would make it all final, slam the last door of hope and make that terror a reality.
 
"I know," Fai mumbled in a shaky voice, and he gave a weak giggle, interrupted by a hiccup. "So many different words for it. I'm a fool, an idiot, a moron, a --"
 
"Shut up," Kurogane said, and to make sure Fai did, he kissed him. "You are without doubt an idiot. But at least you're mine."
 
Fai's arms loosened from their desperate stranglehold, and he eased back a little to meet Kurogane's eyes, his own eye glittering suspiciously in the lamplight. He smiled, a bit tremulously, but at least it was real. "I'm yours," he agreed.
 
These covers really were incredibly soft, really very comfortable, Kurogane thought as he lay back down against them, pulling Fai down to lie against his skin. Much better quality than the crisp sheets and rough blankets on his futon at home. As long as he was here, he ought to enjoy them.
 
"Nobody's going to interrupt us in here, are they?" he breathed, his lips only inches from Fai's skin.
 
He felt the beat of Fai's pulse, his breath quicken and his limbs tighten in response to the question, and its implications. "No..." he said shakily. "They'll leave us alone until we come out."
 
"Good," Kurogane muttered, and began running his hands over Fai's skin once more.
 
At first it was just touching, looking and touching, feasting his eyes and hands on the body he'd been missing and dreaming of for months. Fai looked as good as he remembered. Fai looked damn good, skin pale and even and body lean and toned -- although skinnier than he liked, at least it was nothing like the near-skeletal starvation as before. He was happy that Fai had improved so much so quickly; the bloodthirst wasn't at all like other kinds of hunger in that regard, he realized. Like Fai had said, he could go for weeks without food, then be revived in a single night when he was given what his body needed. Which only made it more stupid that he had let it get that far in the first place.
 
"Kuro-puu?" Fai ventured, responding tentatively to the scowl that briefly tightened Kurogane's features; he closed his own hands around Kurogane's wrist and hand, and smiled hopefully at him.
 
"I'm done yelling," Kurogane assured him, and he leaned down, kissing Fai's lips, laving the corner of his mouth with his tongue. Fai still had a sharp taste, a little like blood, but it didn't disgust him; it was exciting, even stimulating. "For now, anyway."
 
Fai laughed, a shaky rush of air as his ribcage heaved. "Good…" he breathed, echoing Kurogane's words. "Hate to spoil the mood…" He reached up and ran an open palm up Kurogane's arm, his palm caressing lovingly over the muscles of Kurogane's biceps and shoulder, then forming into a fist and tugging at his undershirt. "Off?"
 
 
"Mm," Kurogane made an agreeing noise. He pushed himself up, holding himself up with his core muscles while he swiftly stripped the shirt and tossed it negligently over the bed. His pants followed, and it was a relief to lose those for more than one reason; they were still itchy and sticky from earlier, and that was not a pleasant feeling to have on a renewed erection. He was beginning to get hard again, despite the earlier feeding; the blood-loss hadn't been as severe as last time, not severe enough to incapacitate him completely, a fact which Kurogane appreciated right now. He growled under his breath as he planted his hands on either side of Fai's chest, and stared down at him, eyes narrowing as he planned his next move.
 
Fai seemed rather taken aback by his sudden aggression, and his chuckle had a slightly nervous air. "Why, Kuro-pop, so bold," he joked. "Whatever happened to my sweet virgin demon-hunter…?"
 
"That's definitely in the past, so don't you even think calling me that ever again," Kurogane said brusquely. To tell the truth -- not that he planned to give Fai all the details -- once he'd realized that this was something he'd wanted, there was no way he planned to remain ignorant on the subject. His wasted time in Edo had been of at least some benefit here, in that it had allowed him to study up and find out much more about lovemaking -- specifically between two men -- than he'd ever thought to need before. Fai still had years of experience on him -- there was nothing to be done about that but time -- but Kurogane had no intention of being a passive partner any more.
 
"I've been thinking about you," he dipped his head to kiss Fai's lips, then trailed down to softly mouth the bone of his jaw; "missing you," a kiss to the line of his throat; "dreaming of you for months now." A gentle bite to the sharply defined bone of his collarbone, he really would have to make sure to feed Fai better. "I'm not going to waste this opportunity."
 
"I wouldn't dream of it," Fai assured him solemnly, but there was a smile twitching about his lips and a light in his eye. He wrapped his arms around Kurogane's neck, pulling himself off the bed to arch against him and return the kiss. "So what do you want to do first?" he murmured.
 
"I want… you to fuck me," Kurogane managed to get that sentence out without stuttering, although heat touched his cheeks despite all his determined resolve. He narrowed his eyes in a glare, daring Fai to laugh at him.
 
Showing uncommon tact, for a change, Fai did not laugh. "Are you sure?" he questioned. "I thought -- I mean, I thought you didn't want to 'be the woman.' And it can be uncomfortable, especially the first time, if you'd rather I…"
 
"In the first place, I'm not afraid of pain," Kurogane asserted. "In the second place, you're still the one who knows what he's doing. In the third place, it's supposed to feel good, or so they say. Am I wrong about that?" And in the fourth place, Kurogane added silently, you're the one who's been sick, you're the one who looks like you'd snap in half in a stiff breeze. Some guardian he'd be, if he ended up letting Fai get hurt even more due to his inexperience.
 
Fai's eye narrowed, as though he'd caught some of that last thought, but he didn't immediately retaliate, so Kurogane was pretty sure he was still safe.
 
"No, it is," Fai agreed. A frown wrinkled his face. "I just -- that is -- there are other things we can do, you know. It's not like there's only one right way to enjoy each other, no matter who's on top or who's on bottom. I just don't want you to --"
 
"Can we please just decide what we're going to do and then do it?" Kurogane interrupted him. He grabbed Fai's hand and pulled it up against him, the other man's eye going wide as he felt the throbbing hardness there. Just that contact sent a thrill up Kurogane's spine, and renewed his determination. "Really."
 
Fai expelled a breath on a shaky laugh, and his hand curled around the length of Kurogane's erection, giving it a slow, soft stroke that made Kurogane's toes curl. "If you're so determined, who am I to argue?" he asked, rather hypocritically since he'd been the only one arguing. He arched his back, lifting his head far enough off the pillow to give Kurogane a kiss. "Turn over."
 
Several moments of shifting around, each brush of skin feeling like fire, and Kurogane was up on his knees with his arms cross in front of him, surveying the pattern of embroidery on the pillows with great attention. Fai knelt behind him, warm hands smoothing over his ass and flanks, dropping light kisses on the end of his spine.
 
When Fai's fingers first penetrated, warm and slick with oil, Kurogane stiffened, then forced himself to relax. Pain was not the issue; Kurogane's pain tolerance was much higher than this, which was barely uncomfortable -- even pleasant, in a strange unexpected way. But it was… just new, and embarrassing, and frighteningly intimate. Still, he trusted Fai. He'd always trusted Fai, even when he should have known better.
 
He knew that. So why did he feel so…
 
Abruptly Kurogane pulled his attention away from the insistent demands of his pleasure-washed body, yanked those emotions into the forefront where he could examine them more closely. Anxiety; fearfulness; the desire to please, the fear that he would disappoint… these weren't his emotions at all! It was the damn blood bond, messing with his head again. Which meant that Fai was…
 
He sighed, and shifted position, unfolding his arms and shifting over onto his side so that he could look at Fai's face. "Hey," he said. "It's just me, you know."
 
Fai froze, his eye going wide like he was about to bolt. "What?" he said breathlessly. " -- is something wrong?"
 
"It's just us," Kurogane said, pausing to try to choose his words, uncertain what was the right thing to say. "You don't need to worry so much… about whether I'm having a good time, or whatever. You can't hurt me."
 
Fai slowly relaxed, and gave a weak laugh. "I guess I'm just having a moment of stage fright," he said. "Don't mind me."
 
Kurogane sat up, reaching out and grabbing Fai's shoulder and pulling him closer. "Enough of this," he said. "If I can tell how upset you are, then you ought to be able to tell that right now, I really, really want you to fuck me."
 
Fai didn't respond in words; he kissed Kurogane again, on the mouth, on the jaw, his lips and tongue trailing down Kurogane's throat and leaving a warm trail of saliva drying on his chest. Fai really had something of an oral fetish, Kurogane thought irrelevantly. Kissing in and of itself was not something the warrior had ever had much interest in, but he liked it because Fai did.
 
Fai shifted lower, and Kurogane held his breath, thighs quivering as Fai settled between his legs and bent his head to take in Kurogane's cock. Oh fuck, he'd been dreaming about this exact position for months -- ever since their first too-brief encounter on the cold mountainside he'd wanted more of this, lain awake and alone in frustration in his room back at Edo. Dreams of feeling Fai's hot, wet mouth on his cock, of being able to look down and see that blond head bobbing between his thighs… his hands fisted in the covers, and he groaned, his hips jerking in little arcs as he fought the instinct to thrust.
 
He felt Fai's lips curving in a smile around his cock, and then the fingers were back, pressing into him with that odd mix of discomfort and pleasure. Kurogane was a fast learner, and he was already plotting about using these same lessons later on Fai's own body.  If this was what it was like, being on the bottom, then he supposed it wasn't all so bad, although it was nothing like great as the blowjob Fai was giving him…
 

An arc of pleasure bolted up Kurogane's spine, and his body seized and jerked, a strangled half-cry ripping its way out of his throat. Fai lifted his head, and at least he didn't laugh at Kurogane's reaction, or he really would have had to kill him. " -- the fuck was that?" he wheezed after a moment.

"The reason, Kuro-tan, why they say it's really good…" Fai murmured, shifting position to his own knees as he lifted Kurogane's legs over his shoulder, spreading his legs wider. "It gets better."

 
"Show me," Kurogane taunted him, voice vibrating with the intensity of his feeling. "Now."
 
Fai pressed forward, and Kurogane gasped as the slight discomfort stretched into an aching burn; but he didn't care, he really didn't, now that he could feel Fai's cock inside him. It felt right, to be joined this way, to be part of each other's bodies like they'd already been part of each other's minds. The blood bond made a feedback loop between them; he could feel a faint shadow of what Fai felt, pulsing with each beat of his heart. Fai groaned, and pushed his own hips forward as he began to move.
 
Soon Kurogane was rising to meet him, quickly picking up the hang of the right way to move. It was a dance between them, Fai's smaller, lighter frame -- always surprising in the strength contained within that wiry body -- and his own moving together, rocking waves of pleasure that built every time in intensity. Beads of sweat pooled off Fai's forehead and chest and rolled off him, dripping down to pool on Kurogane's body; he could smell sweat, and musk, and dust, and the strange tang that was Fai's body scent now that he was part vampire, and he was drowning in the heat and scent and sensation.
 
Fai finished first, snapping forward and arching his spine with a strangled cry. The wash of pleasure had Kurogane thrumming with tension, stretched to an unbearable breaking point; with a half-breathed curse he grabbed his own hand around Fai's on his erection, and stroked together in a frenzy until his own orgasm overtook him. It was the second time that day, but no less intense for that, and he clutched Fai's body brutally hard against his own until his muscles stopped twitching.
 
"So what do you think," Fai asked breathlessly, as they both lay trying to recover, their hearts slowing and breath evening out. He slipped out of Kurogane's body and wriggled up beside him, flopping half on him and half on the covers. "Good?"
 
"Don't ask stupid questions. You know it was," Kurogane grumbled contentedly, resting his chin against the top of Fai's blond hair.
 
A nagging thought wanted to intrude on his bliss, a reminder that he hadn't just come here to have make-up sex with Fai, no matter how fantastic. Two countries out there were threatening to slide into war, and relying on him -- somehow -- to stop it. And although he knew Fai was a staunch ally, he didn't really know how much the wizard would be able to do.
 
Later, he'd worry about the consequences of this, and decide what he was going to do next. Later

Chapter Text

The golden afternoon had passed into evening while they were still wrapped up with each other, then to night. Somewhat to Kurogane's surprise, Fai had been right; nobody tried to interrupt them. They spent the time sometimes talking, mostly easing into each others' presence again. One night was not too much to ask, after months of separation.
 
By the time dawn cracked the horizon again, though, the outside world was making itself felt again; Kurogane's stomach began to give off insistent growls, not having eaten in over a day.
 
When a tentative knock sounded on the door, Kurogane pushed his sleepy blond partner back towards the pillow and got up to answer it, ignoring Fai's amused expression at the liberty. His clothes were around somewhere; he could only be bothered to locate his trousers and pull them on, and opened the door bare-chested.
 
He probably traumatized the young boy on the other side of the door when he opened it, judging by the boy's rounding eyes and gape of shock, but that was too damn bad. "What is it?" he growled.
 
The kid -- couldn't be more than nine or ten years old -- gulped and finally stammered out, "The -- the -- lord Flowright is requested to attend an audience later this afternoon, with the King and his wizards. If -- if he is well enough to go, of course, that is." Worried uncertainty crept into the boy's tone, and he tried to peek around Kurogane's solid body into the rest of the room.
 
"See for yourself," Kurogane said, moving aside far enough to give a line-of-sight into the room. Fai sat up, tufts of disordered blond hair drifting around his head in a halo, and gave the kid a sleepy smile and wave. The faint glow of health emanating from his skin -- the flesh already beginning to fill out over his bones -- was witness to his momentous recovery.
 
"Tell King Ashura I will be there," Fai called from the bed, although he did not move to get up immediately -- probably because his own clothes were not easily within reach. He glanced up at Kurogane, and the smile crept over his face again; he added, "And see about breakfast for Kuro-sama here. He traveled much too far without stopping for dinner, and he worked very hard last night."
 
Kurogane rolled his eyes at the suggestive tone, but couldn't stop a faint heat from creeping into his skin anyway. The page flushed a bright red -- young as he was, there was just no mistaking the situation the two men were in -- and stammered an agreement before fleeing down the stairs.
 
"Great," Kurogane said disgustedly. "Now he's gone to tell everyone in the palace about us. It'll be the talk of the staff by noon. What are your other wizard friends going to think?"
 
"They know, Kuro-chan," Fai said in a faintly amused voice. Now that they were safely alone, he slid back the covers and swung his feet to the floor, flexing them back and forth as though to test his strength. The skin of his back was pale, smooth, unmarked; there was no sign any more of the intricate black tattoo that had signed his geas. At least, Kurogane thought, no visible sign. He was bound by chains that cut deeper.  "I didn't exactly make it a secret. They won't mind."
 
Remembering the glares from the day before, Kurogane doubted that, but he didn't press the point. "And what about Ashura?"
 
Fai stiffened, his smile fading as his expression stilled, and Kurogane almost regretted the question. Fai sighed. "He knows too, of course," he said quietly. "I could hardly hide it from him."
 
He cannot hide anything from Ashura, even if he tries, Kurogane remembered Yukito once saying. He stifled a sharp pang of anger and annoyance, confining his response to merely a disapproving grunt. "He doesn't like it."
 
"He'll cope," Fai said with a firmness that was unusual for him. "Somehow or other. I doubt you two will ever become friends --"
 
Kurogane's snort was all that comment deserved, and Fai smiled again. " -- but he'll simply have to learn to deal with you. Don't look so sour, Kuro-grumpy. You're the Nihon ambassador, after all; like it or not, he'll have no choice but to treat you accordingly."
 
"Hm." Kurogane watched Fai pick his way slowly around the room, partially enjoying the fluid grace that was restored to his movements; but the rest of his mind had been put in motion by Fai's comment. Up until now all his drive, all his attention had been focused on getting to Ceres and meeting with Fai, making sure that he was all right. Now that it looked like he would be, Kurogane was left to contemplate the situation that they found themselves in.
 
Fai was right; like it or not, he was the Nihon ambassador. He suppressed a momentary panic at the thought; he wasn't a courtier, he'd never been trained for this duty! He didn't understand politics, he had no skill in diplomacy or negotiation. And he hated parties.
 
On the other hand, there probably wasn't anyone at court in Nihon -- save perhaps for Prince Touya himself -- who understood both Nihon and Ceres as well as he did. And equally few as motivated to try, at least, to build a lasting peace between their notions. And if nothing else, he comforted himself, the culture here was so different that it wasn't like anyone would know what Nihon court manners he wasn't practicing. No, one way or another, their peaceful vacation time was over; it was time to work.
 
"So what's going on up here?" Kurogane asked eventually, watching Fai slip into his clothes. He was fascinated by the play of light over patterned cloth, flowing like liquid over that pale skin as Fai pulled the tunic over his head and adjusted the high collar. "Hidden up behind the passes. Nobody in Nihon has a clue what's going on with you these days, and it's making everybody pretty nervous. Or was that the idea?"
 
Fai sighed, smoothing his hand down over the draping folds of the sleeve. "That wasn't the intention," he said at last, "although I doubt many people are sorry about it. Ashura... Ashura wasn't happy to have you up here, you know."
 
"That much was obvious," Kurogane snorted.
 
Fai smiled briefly, but it was fleeting. He came to sit beside Kurogane again on the bed. "For more reasons than the obvious," he said. "If it hadn't been for... well, me, he'd sooner have cut off an arm than let you come back here again. He knows you, and he knows that you're smart and observant and have at least a rudimentary magical background... and you're loyal to the Empress and the High Priestess. Someone like you is the last person he wanted to have up here, exactly because you're going to see too much and understand too much, and report back to them."
 
Kurogane moved his hand and stroked the tips of his fingers lightly over the ends of Fai's hair, reveling in the sensation of where the soft hair gave way to smooth cloth. "I told Amaterasu that I wasn't coming here as a spy," he said, "and I meant that. But... Nihon is where my allegiance lies. I can't lie to them, or hide truths that could threaten our country. If..." he said, then trailed off, unsure how to phrase his fears. "If Ceres doesn't plan to honor the peace, if you're planning another assault..."
 
"It's nothing like that," Fai was quick to reassure him, and Kurogane sensed the earnest sincerity of his statement. "Not at all. If anything, it's the opposite."
 
That piqued Kurogane's interest. "Hm?" he said, keeping his voice noncommittal; although it was a futile effort, since he was sure Fai could sense his interest.
 
Fai was silent for a long moment, then he sighed. "Ashura wouldn't want me telling you these things," he said in a small voice. "But I will anyway. Because you deserve to know."
 
That last was said in a fierce tone, and Kurogane couldn't help but notice the choice of words; it wasn't that he needed to know, but that he deserved it. "Tell me," he said quietly.
 
"What it all comes down to is, Ceres is incredibly overextended," Fai blurted out. "I don't think anyone in Nihon realizes just how much damage their offensive last fall did to us, especially in terms of our population. How many people died, especially our men, the ones grown and healthy enough to go to war. The only reason we were able to survive until spring to counterattack was because we had fewer mouths to feed.
 
"And now with the new territory acquisitions in southern Ceres, we have to cover three times the ground with less than half the men. We gained arable lands, which was what we wanted -- but we have no farmers to tend them. At the same time we're trying to rebuild the infrastructure that was destroyed, both in the assault and when Yukito pulled out to defend Nihon against the demons. And still shore up our army to a point where we can present even the image of a credible defense against Nihon, spread out over leagues of our suddenly-expanded border -- well...
 
"We have boys as young as ten wielding halberds on the front lines, we have women and girls working in the crafthalls, we have every able-bodied adult in Ceres working themselves half to death just to maintain the status quo, let alone expand. And the situation won't get any better until the next generation is born and grows up -- and who will nurture and care for them, as well, with fathers stationed out on the borders and women working all day in the fields?"
 
Kurogane was stunned. He'd had some inkling of the problem -- he'd always known that Ceres was small -- but the sheer daunting impossibility of the task they now faced was overwhelming. "But -- you have the wizards," he started to point out.
 
Fai laughed, but it was a bitter-laced sound. "Oh yes, the wizards," he said. "The wizards make it all possible. Without magic, we could never even dream of doing all we do. Magic makes the crops grow faster, lets us communicate with the furthest reaches of the borders, lets us transport materials and bodies faster than manual labor ever could. Magic lets us rebuild citadels and pave roads, coax good weather and heal the sick. But you know us, Kuro-kun. You've been here before. How many wizards do we have?"
 
Kurogane was silent for a moment. "I always thought there must be more, that weren't stationed here, wizards that I never saw," he finally said.
 
Fai shook his head, sending blond tendrils flying about his face. "You saw all of us, Kuro-tan," he said in a deceptively gentle voice. "Ashura has worked for forty years to build a working core of wizards. In the beginning he had only Guru Clef, and then he had me. And I gave him the idea to build a new army, an unstoppable army, an army of wizards.
 

"But only a small number of people are truly talented in magic, and the population of Ceres is too small to host very many of them. Ashura and Clef and I spent many years searching through many countries to find potential young wizards, to bring them to Ceres to raise and train. After thirty years of search and rescue, of training and nurturing and study and effort, we had... thirteen adult and fully trained wizards, and handful more apprentices in training. Each one a huge investment that would take decades to replace."

"So few…" Kurogane muttered, and shook his head. He'd seen Fai in action, he had no doubt that it was true -- but it was still such a shock, to think that barely a dozen had ravaged northern Nihon, devastated the walls and fortresses and destroyed half of the Imperial Army. If that was what you could do with thirteen, what could you do with fifty? A hundred? Nothing would be able to stop them. The face of war had forever been changed.
 
"So few," Fai agreed, a ragged catch in his voice. "Of those thirteen, one died defending Nihon against the demons, and two more have never fully recovered. Yukito is no longer trusted -- he hasn't been permitted to do any of the restoration work, let alone man the defenses. And I... well, as I grew weaker, I became less and less able to help. That left only eight wizards to do the work of an army; we have acolytes filling the roles that really require a trained wizard --"
 
"I met one of those," Kurogane said, thinking of the obvious inexperience of the young wizard at the pass. "Young lady, blond hair, green eyes. Seemed nervous."
 
Fai nodded. "Miyuki is a bright girl," he said, "and she'd do well, if she had someone watching over her, to teach her confidence. But no one has the time to spare."
 
"So you have no army, no workforce," Kurogane mused over the situation out loud, "and the greatest terror of Ceres, the council of wizards, is on its last legs." He shook his head in amazement. "No wonder you were keeping it a secret."
 
Fai gave another painful laugh. "It gets worse," he said.
 
"Worse?" Kurogane asked in amazement. "How?"
 
"Politics," Fai sighed, leaning against Kurogane's side. The ninjas was unsure if he was tired already just from the effort of getting dressed, or just seeking comfort. "Keep in mind that I've heard less of the news and gossip, since I've been ill... but there's a lot of discontent at the court, and support among the nobility is -- well -- fractured is about the kindest word you could say for it."
 
Kurogane nodded. "Amaterasu said she'd heard there was a schism at court," he recalled.
 
Fai winced at hearing even this statement of the obvious. "Well, yes," he said. "King Ashura has been strengthening the crown at the expense of the traditional powers of the noble families ever since he took the throne. Building up the power of the stable of Wizards was one of the primary means he used to do this. Conditions were bad enough, and people were desperate enough, that most of the nobles threw their support behind him anyway -- but that never meant that they were going to go into obscurity quietly, or that they would let go of their privileges forever.
 
"Now that the war is over, and we've gained so much of the land to the south, and it looks like the famine crisis might be over… the noble faction is raising its head again. They're not happy that the King is retaining control over all the conquered lands -- some of which were ancestrally under their control, before Nihon conquered them a hundred years ago. And they've always resented the power -- and privilege -- granted to the wizards, most of whom are common-born, many of whom weren't born in Ceres at all."
 
"So there's the noble faction on one side," Kurogane mused, "and the royal faction -- which includes the wizards -- on the other side. Makes sense." In some ways it was not unlike the setup of the Nihon government; although the nobles owned the land and by extension the peasantry, the office of the Imperial dynasty had always been granted legitimacy and power by the magical priesthood of the monks and mikos. After all, the emperor was directly descended from the divine goddess; the loyalty of the priesthood would always be with them over the more mundane office of the nobles, and that gave the Emperor an authority that superseded any noble.
 
"Well," Fai said, and he grimaced, "that was the way it... had been. But now, thanks to the... way the war ended... and to what Yukito did, there's a split between the wizards and the King himself. Yukito himself has been demoted, and the shadow has spilled over all the others as well."
 
"What?" Kurogane said, staring in astonishment. "He saved our country -- and yours! The wizards' defense of Nihon ended the war in your favor -- it's the only reason why Nihon has been willing to accept a peace treaty at all! They gave Ashura everything he wanted on a platter!"
 
Fai shook his head, not in denial of what Kurogane was saying exactly. "Ashura doesn't see it that way," he said. "He still dreams of conquest; he never wanted peace. He feels -- betrayed. He built his reign around the creation and nurturing of the wizards, he invested all his power in them... only to have them turn in his hand in the very moment of his triumph. He created the wizards; he never expected them to defy him. But at the same time, his country, his rule, is nothing without them, and he knows it."
 
"Them?" Kurogane said, catching on a repeated pattern in Fai's words that had been nagging at his attention.
 
"What?" Fai blinked.
 
"You keep saying 'the wizards' or 'them,' " Kurogane said, turning his head to watch Fai's expression. "Not 'we' or 'us.' Where do you fit into this? Are you not one of them anymore?"
 
"I…" Fai opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head raggedly. "That wasn't what I -- they are still my -- we are still brothers. I wasn't trying to, to say that --"
 
His distress was so obvious, ambushed by his unconscious choice of words, that Kurogane sorry he'd brought it up. "Never mind," he said firmly, and began petting Fai's hair soothingly, thinking over all that Fai had told him.
 
"It sounds like it's been hard," he said at last. "But what I don't get is, if you're having so many problems, why aren't you pushing to get a peace treaty signed now when Nihon is still off-balance? Seems like your basic problem is just not enough people, and that's not a problem that's going to go away in a few months or a year. The longer you drag your feet, the harder it's going to be."
 
"What's a peace treaty worth?" Fai said bitterly. "It's just words. Don't you think, if they realized our weak our position is, how overstretched we are, that Nihon wouldn't jump at a chance to get back at us in an instant?"
 
Kurogane thought guiltily of the division in his own court, the samurai families screaming for more war, for vengeance and the redemption of honor. But -- "We do have honor as a nation, as a people," he said quietly. "And you have allies at Nihon. Tomoyo, the Crown Prince. You shouldn't discount those so quickly. There are some people who are far-sighted enough to realize that a true alliance will benefit both of us far more in the long run."
 
Fai's shoulders slumped. "You're right," he muttered. "I know it, and you know it -- but we aren't the ones who sign the treaties, are we? No one at court can agree. The ministers are the only ones pushing the treaty; they want peace at any cost, even if it means concessions of some of the territory we overran. They argue that all the land in the world won't do us any good if we can't administer it."
 
"Don't think the nobles would like that argument very much," Kurogane commented, and Fai chuckled in agreement, then sighed and continued.
 
"The nobles hate the ministers almost as much as they hate the wizards, because there are more of them, and they're merit-based rather than by noble blood. And they still control enough of the lands -- and the subjects -- to block any move that any of the other factions try to make. There's not just one schism -- it's a four-way deadlock, and no-one can move forward."
 
"I had no idea it was such a mess up here," Kurogane said, shaking his head in amazement. "Nobody did. We -- the court at Edo -- just thought that you were toying with us, insulting us by treating us so carelessly."
 
"Can you blame us for not wanting you to know?" Fai asked, looking away and taking the edge of the blanket in both hands, wrapping his fingers tightly in the linen. "Is it really so hard to understand why we wouldn't want you to see us like this, at our weakest and most vulnerable?"
 
They weren't talking about politics any more, and Kurogane knew it. He sat up, and put his arms around Fai's shoulders. "Maybe you should give us a chance," he said into Fai's ear. "Maybe we would surprise you."
 
Fai shivered, and bowed his head forward in acquiescence.
 
 

 
 
 
"Where have you been?" Kurogane asked ungraciously as Syaoran entered the room. The kid had been missing all morning; now he drifted in with a dazed look on his face, practically floating an inch off the ground.
 
The look his student gave him was surprised and reproachful. "I was here last night and this morning," he said. "You never came back, I never heard another word about you. You could have been dead in a ditch for all I knew."
 
Kurogane only 'hmph'ed in response, feeling an unaccustomed guilt for how ruthlessly he had abandoned the boy the other night. He knew he was responsible for him, but he'd simply had too much else on his mind. Now, he studied Syaoran narrowly, trying to gauge his state of mind. The boy didn't look furtive or guilty, like he was trying to hide any indiscretion on his own part. He just looked... thoughtful, the same absorbed look he got when he had his nose stuck in a book, right before he walked off the porch with it and tripped on his face.
 
"Show me where you put all my stuff," he ordered his student. "I have an audience with the king in less than an hour, and I should at least look decent if we want him to take these peace negotiations seriously."
 
"Yes, those are important," Syaoran agreed, coming out of his fog for a moment. Kurogane's eyebrows lifted in surprise; Syaoran, approving the idea of peace between Ceres and Nihon? That was unexpected. But he seemed sincere. Not that the kid was ever anything else.
 
"So," he said carefully as they pulled outfits and dumped them helter-skelter on the beds and floor, "I hope you didn't get into too much trouble by yourself."
 
"I didn't!" Syaoran defended himself. "I just... explored the castle a little bit. I found the kitchens."
 
"Ah." That wasn't a big surprise; boys that age could smell food cooking a mile away. "And did you make any friends?"
 
A faint red flush spread over Syaoran's nose and cheeks. "Uh -- yeah," he mumbled. "I did -- I did make one friend. We met in the kitchens. She's really nice. She promised to show me some more of the castle after breakfast."
 
" 'She?' " Kurogane swung around to pin his student with an intense gaze. "Chatting up the local girls already, are you?"
 
"No!" Syaoran yelped, the blush spreading over his face as he waved his free arm in indignant denial. "It's not like that at all!"
 
Kurogane frowned deeply, considering the implications of this. It was all very well and good for Syaoran to make friends with the Ruval servants if it would broaden his view of the world a bit. But affairs and scandals would be a little too broad, and could easily blow up on them. "Listen kid, you'd better watch yourself around Ceres girls," he began. "I know you're that age and all, but just remember that just because a girl smiles and flirts with you doesn't mean her father is going to approve. We're not here to get into trouble with the locals."
 
"I told you it's not like that!" Syaoran dropped his armful of baggage in order to flail with both arms. "She's the most wonderful girl in the whole world! I would never --"
 
"Look," Kurogane said, holding up one hand in a gesture of warding. "I know how it is. You see a pretty face, and all restraint goes out the window. Even if she's all gung-ho about it, she probably won't be so happy when she gets knocked up, you understand?"
 
Syaoran sputtered incoherently, his entire face and throat turning a deep purple. Guilty as hell, Kurogane thought. He continued, "The only thing worse than a horde of angry fathers after us would be a potential half-breed paternity suit on our hands. So you promise me that no matter what happens, you'll be careful and use protection."
 
"I would never --" Syaoran's voice came out a strangled squeak, and he had to hyperventilate for a moment to get enough air to continue. "Why is everyone in this palace so -- I'm not some kind of dirty-minded -- I wouldn't even THINK of doing anything improper --"
 
"Yeah, yeah," Kurogane waved his student's confused flailing out of the picture. "Just remember that when this is all over, we'll be going back to Edo. And she won't."
 
That took the wind out of Syaoran's sails, and he deflated to his normal size and coloring. "I know," he mumbled unhappily.
 
Gods, Kurogane thought. He really had it bad. "So you take care that you don't make trouble for her," he cautioned him. "You just think about what I said."
 
Syaoran nodded, his face subdued and unhappy. Well, he'd get over it. Kurogane dug through the pile and pulled out a large black sheaf of cloth, the most formal of the kimonos he'd brought with him. "Now," he said, "Help me get this damn thing on. I've got to look all stately and shit."
 

 
 
"Princess, slow down!" Syaoran called out, his feet dragging over the stone steps as he struggled to call out and catch his breath at the same time.
 
"I already told you, just call me Sakura!" the green-eyed girl up ahead scolded him. "You don't have to use titles, or anything like that!"
 
"Yes, but that was before I knew -- I mean, who you really were," Syaoran murmured uncertainly.
 
"But I'm still me," Sakura said firmly. "Nothing's changed!"
 
Syaoran followed Sakura up onto the roof. His teacher's words from this morning still stuck in his mind -- as much as he wanted to forget them, they had the ring of truth. He really didn't want to make trouble for Sakura, and since she was such an important person, he worried that just spending time with her would be enough to make people disapprove or get angry. At the same time, he didn't want to be without her. When the time came to return to Nihon, he would probably never see her again. As selfish as it was, he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible before that time came.
 
She was nothing he'd ever expected to find in a princess. Despite her frustrations about being a virtual prisoner in the palace, it soon became obvious that she had plenty of personal freedom. She was allowed to go almost anywhere within the palace -- and she knew every nook and cranny of the palace intimately, and was delighted to share its mysteries with him. It gave him a breathtaking view of the heart of his enemy's country that he'd never dreamed he'd be able to see.
 
Being in Sakura's company gave him a new perspective on the people of Ceres, too. It was obvious to him -- although not perhaps to Sakura -- that had he been by himself, an unimportant visitor from an enemy land, they would have liked to give him the cold shoulder. With Sakura, however, he saw a whole different side of them. She spoke in Nihongo to everyone they passed, soldiers or servants or court officials, and however reluctant or halting, they responded in the same language. Without that, Syaoran would never have been able to understand them. But without exception everyone was kind to Sakura, happy to see her and willing to extend a begrudging welcome to her strange new companion as well.
 
It also soon became obvious that every one of the palace guards was completely wrapped around the princess' fingers. Not that she was devious or manipulative in any way, or that she abused her position of power -- but she approached each one with the same sweet, earnest sincerity that no one could have the heart to refuse her any request. Indeed, Syaoran found it hard to imagine anyone who could. Climbing up an endless, dizzying array of stone stairs was not how he'd wanted to spend his day -- but he couldn't even think of refusing her.
 
"Come on!" Sakura called impatiently from above him on the stairwell; light and cold air spilled down from the direction of her voice. He'd been getting used to the constant warmth and lamplight of the castle. "I want you to see everything -- before the clouds come in again and spoil the view!"
 
"Coming!" he called, and quickly climbed the rest of the stairs to join her on the platform. A sudden gust of cold wind shocked him, and the sight that met his eyes took his breath away.
 
They were standing on the roof of a tall tower, rising hundreds of feet above the valley floor below. A few other spires of the palace speared even higher behind them, but this was the tallest one with a flat roof and a trapdoor to give access to the outside air. Above them, the sun shone through flickering shredded clouds, giving brief glimpses of bright blue sky and spilling shifting patterns of light and shadow on the landscape below.
 
The mountains reared up on three sides, awe-inspiring massifs of rock that dwarfed the majesty of the palace. Green forest gave way to gray stone, then white-frosted slopes of snow that endured even with the coming summer season. To the north they were capped with a brilliant crown of blue ice that threatened to rival the color of the sky above.
 
Away to the south and east, the valley wound its way down the mountains before it turned southwards towards Nihon -- home. They could look down over the palace walls to the city below, spiky and grey with steep slate roofs designed to shed the snow. In the clear air, the far end of the valley was visible, with tiny buildings and roads snaking across the landscape as it dropped away before them. It made him feel almost like he was falling, plummeting out over the distance.
 
"I like to come up here sometimes," Sakura said beside him; he turned to look at her, smiling happily as the breeze whipped strands of her hair around her face. "The palace gets so stuffy sometimes; it's always so warm. That's nice in the winter, of course, but sometimes I like to come up here to get a breath of fresh air. This is the only place I can go in the palace where I can really see the sky."
 
Behind her, a flock of grey and white pigeons -- startled by the abrupt invasion of their roosting space -- took wing. Sakura raised her arms and went on her tiptoes, face lifted to follow their path. "Isn't it amazing?" she said. "I can see everything in the world from up here. I almost feel like I could fly!"
 
"Yeah," he said, his throat feeling too choked for other words. "It's amazing."
 
They sat on the roof for a while -- thankfully for Syaoran's nerves, away from the edge. He had a clutching, unreasonable fear that Sakura was going to fall, topple over the edge from a strong gust of wind, and he felt the anxious need to place himself close to her just in case he had to grab her.
 
"The mountains are really," he said, groping for the right words to express the daunting feeling. "Really big. They feel like… like the edge of the world."
 
Sakura nodded. "I know what you mean," she said. "But they aren't really, are they? I've seen maps. There are other lands beyond them, lands all around us."
 
Syaoran stood up and shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand. He pointed to the south and west. "Edo is over there," he said. "Where I live. It's not really that far, but it's hidden by the mountains."
 
"What about the place you were born?" Sakura said eagerly.
 
Syaoran half-turned to the east; from here the mountains were massive, impenetrable. "Beyond those mountains is a desert," he said. "Rain comes from the ocean to the west, but it can't get over the mountains, so it doesn't fall much there. Clow is a long, long way from here. You can't cross the desert directly, you have to go around to the south. To get to Edo from there you have to pass through Autozam, and Hanshin, and some other provinces that Nihon rules."
 
"So many different places," Sakura said softly, looking at the range of mountains as though she could see through them. "I've never seen any of them."
 
"North is just more mountains," Syaoran said. "And Valeria -- you can't get there from Nihon. They must end somewhere, but nobody has really bothered to explore much beyond them."
 
Sakura nodded, but she was still looking with longing to the south and east, the direction of Syaoran's homeland.
 
"Does Clow have its own language?" she asked at length. "I guess not everyone in the world speaks Nihongo."
 
Syaoran nodded. "Only as far as the outer provinces," he said. "Our language doesn't have much in common with either Ceresian or Nihongo, although it's pretty similar to what they speak in Autozam."
 
"Could you teach it to me?" she asked shyly.
 
"W-well," Syaoran stammered, caught off guard by the sudden request. "I don't know how much I'll have a chance to teach you -- you know, before I have to go. But since if you're teaching me some words of your language, it's only fair to teach you some of mine as well."
 
"Syaoran," Sakura said hesitantly, then looked away shyly. "I know we haven't known each other long, but I…" She ducked her head.
 
Syaoran felt a strange squirming sensation trying to climb from his stomach up to his head. He cleared his throat and said gruffly, "You what?"
 
"I'm… really glad you're here," she said at last, looking up to smile sweetly at him. "Before you came, I didn't really have anyone my own age. The only playmate I really had was my cousin Nokoru -- and he's only eleven."
 
"You didn't have anyone your own age at all!?" Syaoran said, taken aback. "Aren't there any other kids living in the palace -- or in the city? With all these ministers and servants living here, some of them must have families…"
 
Sakura sighed despondently. "They do," she said. "But I'm not allowed to play with them, because I'm a princess. Thank goodness, Syaoran-kun is an ambassador so that doesn't count!"
 
"What's it like, being a princess?" he asked after a while, as his curiosity got the better of him. "It seems like it would be pretty amazing."
 
"Not really," Sakura sighed. "I mean -- I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Everyone in Ruval cares about me, they look out for me. I can have any clothes that I want, and people always give me pretty gifts and jewelry. But --"
 
"But?" Syaoran ventured cautiously. Privately, he thought this sounded like a pretty good deal to him, and he couldn't see what there was to complain about.
 
"But I never have anything to do," Sakura burst out, frustration evident in her voice. "I -- oh, I know what this must sound like, complaining of boredom. But it's more than just boredom. I -- I feel like I don't have a purpose here, I don't have a use. I study and study, but there's no point! I may be the King's child, but I'm not a son -- I'm not a true heir, I'll never inherit the throne. And my mother died giving birth to me, and my father never remarried, so there will never be another heir. So what use will I ever be to anyone?"
 
The force of emotion in her voice took Syaoran aback; he wasn't sure he understood what drove it, but the frustration and sadness in her voice couldn't be denied. "Is it so important, to have a purpose?" he said at last, tentatively. "Most people aren't the heirs to anything either, but they're still happy. Everyone here loves you -- isn't that enough?"
 
"I wish it could be," Sakura said, sounding defeated. "But…"
 

She paused a moment, tilting her head up to look at him consideringly. A spark of mischief was beginning to dance in her eyes. "Syaoran," she said, "can you keep a secret?"

 
 
 
Decked out in the formal kimono, Kurogane strode through the brightly lit palace corridors, looking for his companion. He felt uncomfortable being out of his armor and protected only by cloth, and the skirt of the hakama tangled his stride and made him feel ridiculous. Still, he had held onto his swords, and the imposing black folds of the kimono lent him some authority all the same. None of the guards tried to stop him, anyway, some of them nodding respectful salutes and murmuring "Lord Suwa," as he passed.
 
With the blood bond so recent between them, it was easy to pinpoint Fai's direction, but a bit harder to figure out what hallways actually went that way. When he did actually find him, a burst of happy chatter from the room beyond made him hesitate in the doorway, looking out over the scene.
 
Fai was surrounded by half a dozen men, all dressed in the bright wizard's robes. Some of them he recognized from his previous stay in Ceres, but he couldn't say that he knew any of them well. With an unusual opportunity to observe and not be watched in return, Kurogane was reminded again of what an odd lot the Ceres wizards were. There was one venerable, white-haired old woman, and one grizzled salt-and-pepper middle-aged man; but most of the wizards appeared as young men in their twenties. Of course, so did Fai; you couldn't judge the age of a wizard by their appearance.
 
Now that he knew from Fai that the wizards had been gathered from many different countries, it was obvious that they weren't all of the same heritage. At least one man had dark hair and slanted eyes that wouldn't be out of place in Kurogane's own Nihon; another had skin so dark it was almost brown, and curiously wavy black hair. Others had hair of a light brown or sandy blond that seemed more normal for this country, but above them all Fai stood taller by a head, with skin and hair so pale that it almost glowed.
 
And yet, despite the differences in their appearance and manner, the wizards all shared an obvious bond of fellowship. They looked almost painfully glad to see Fai healthy and strong again, pelting him with congratulations and well-wishes. Watching the camaraderie between them, Kurogane felt more like an outsider than ever before.
 
Fai's sensitivity to their bond was as acute as his own; without Kurogane moving or saying a word he turned his head towards the doorway, easily spotting Kurogane over the heads of the others. "Kur -- Lord Suwa!" he called out happily, and Kurogane bristled somewhat at the official name. "I thought you'd gotten lost."
 
"I've been here before you know," Kurogane growled, stalking into the room. The other wizards went suddenly quiet and polite in his presence, keeping a wary distance. That was fine; Fai smiled at him with all the welcome and warmth he could have hoped for, holding out a hand for Kurogane to come and take, and he was the only one in the room that really mattered.
 
It was a moment before he could tear his gaze away from Fai's, and he cleared his throat as he looked away, embarrassed as a warrior to have lost track of his surroundings even for a brief time. "What are you all looking at?" he demanded.
 
"So it is true after all," one of the sandy-haired men said, giving them both a knowing glance. "You know, up until right now I didn't quite believe you."
 
Fai laughed, tightening his hand over Kurogane's fingers before he could pull them away. "Why would I lie to you, Shougo?" he asked lightly. "I told you, once you get past the armor and the growls, my Kuro-sama is just a big softie. You should get to know each other, really. He's a sorcerer like you -- I'm sure you'd have lots of notes to compare!"
 
Kurogane felt himself flush, seeing knowing smiles spread from one face to the next. "Mage -- " he hissed, but Fai only smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Don’t you all have better things to do?" he snarled instead, turning on his audience.
 
"As a matter of fact, we do," the middle-aged man said, climbing to his feet and leaning on a staff. He was the shortest man in the room, barely coming up to Kurogane's chest, but that did not diminish his air of authority. "You all have tasks that you need to be seeing to -- get to them," he commanded the assembled wizards. "That's enough time today spent on socializing -- we have little enough to waste."
 
"Whatever you say, Guru Clef," one of them remarked good-naturedly, and with an air of regret, the impromptu party dispersed.
 
"Wait, where's Yukito?" Kurogane asked with a frown, watching the men file out. He didn't see his distinctive albino coloring anywhere.
 
Fai's happy smile transmuted to a frown. "Yukito is not permitted to attend meetings of the wizards right now," he bit out, "by order to the king. I'll have to meet with him separately later -- if nothing else, to show him I'm all right."
 
"The king?" Kurogane was immediately reminded of his purpose this morning. "I thought you had an audience to see him."
 
"I do," Fai said with a sigh. They were alone in the little audience chamber now, and he gestured towards the opposite door that Kurogane had come in from. "He's in there now, meeting with the clan lords -- I have to wait until he's finished."
 
"What do they want?" Kurogane looked at the closed door with a frown.
 
"Oh, the usual." Fai's smile thinned. "Conquered territory to be distributed among themselves; a larger share of the tax revenues; the ministries disbanded; the wizards humiliated and brought down to their proper 'station,' all that sort of thing."
 
Kurogane's scowl deepened as he glowered at the invisible figures in the room beyond. "I'll wait here too," he said. "I need to see him, as well; and if he's so all-fired busy as to make you wait, Gods know when I'll get another chance."
 
Fai merely nodded agreement, his attention clearly elsewhere. "I hope this doesn't take too long," he remarked. "I'd like to see Sakura-chan soon. I don't know where she'd gotten off to now, but I suppose I can usually find her in the kitchens later. I haven't seen her in several weeks, and I'd like to let her know that I'm all right."
 
"Weeks?" Kurogane asked in surprise. The word 'kitchens' nagged at his attention somewhat; what would a princess be doing in the kitchens? -- but he couldn't pin down what it reminded him of.
 
Fai's smile faded, and he looked down and fiddled with the cuffs of his formal sleeves. "I didn't want her to see me when I was so ill," he said softly. "So I kept her away. I know that upset her too, but it was for the best. Seeing me so sick would have been too much for her, I think."
 
"Hmph," Kurogane grunted, thinking it over. "I think you shouldn't underestimate her. She cares about you deeply, you know, and she's stronger than you think."
 
Fai looked up at him, a tender smile restored to his face. "You like Sakura-chan quite a bit, don't you?" he asked.
 
Kurogane huffed. "She's the most decent person in this entire palace, and that's including you," he said. "I think she's damn wasted on you people. She's smart and capable. You should be training her for statesmanship -- or maybe as a wizard. Instead, you treat her like a pet to be locked up in her own home, or like a shameful secret that nobody can find out about."
 
Fai sighed. "It's for everyone's safety, Kuro-sama, not just hers."
 
Kurogane frowned. "What do you mean?"
 
Fai glanced around. They were in an empty, sunny chamber, alone but for themselves. He went over to the window embrasure and glanced outside; Kurogane knew that they were several stories up, over a sheer rock wall and a precipitous drop. Reassured, Fai seated himself in the window seat and gestured for Kurogane to join them. He did so; who knew how long Ashura was going to keep them waiting.
 
"Do you remember what I told you once about magic, Kuro-chan?" Fai began. "That one time in the woods?"
 
"Most of it," Kurogane shrugged. "A lot of it was over my head at the time, but I still remember the words." The memory of it came back in sharp detail, in fact; the crisp autumn air, the sunlight playing over the bow cradled loosely in Fai's hands as he sat crosslegged on the mossy ground.
 
Fai nodded. "I told you that there are some types of magic that anyone can learn," he said, "and others that seem to be inborn, unique to that person. Precognition is a type of power like that; it can't be learned or studied, you have to be born with it."
 
"I know," Kurogane said, thinking of Tomoyo. There were many women who held the position of Tsukuyomi, the court diviner, over the years; but only a few of them were lucky enough to be born as yumemi as well.
 
"There are other types of inborn power as well; some types of healing, for example, or special sight, which doesn't require wizardry to invoke. And there are some other types of power that are so rare, and so strange, that a person can go their entire lifetime without discovering what it truly is. Are you following me so far?"
 
Kurogane nodded, somewhat dubiously. "Sakura has a type of power such as that," Fai said. "Something rare, and strange, and powerful. Very powerful -- maybe even more powerful than me."
 
"That little girl has all that?" Kurogane asked in surprise, thinking over the slight, fluttering figure in his mind. "But she's never shown any sign."
 
Fai shrugged. "So long as it never manifests actively, no one except a wizard would know. Even Sakura herself doesn't know, because in all her fourteen years we have never begun to understood exactly what kind of power it is."
 
Kurogane scowled. "Thirteen wizards, and you don't even know what power she has?" he scoffed.
 
Fai smiled, spreading his hands. "No," he agreed. "The strongest wizards in the world, and we don't have any idea what it is that she can do. That should tell you something, Kuro-chan."
 
He supposed it should tell him something, but he was mystified. "So, if no one but a wizard would even know she has this power, why all the secrecy surrounding it?
 
The smile faded, and Fai shook his head, his expression growing troubled. "Because Yukito had a vision," he said quietly. "Almost the first time he set eyes on her, it came on so powerfully that it almost crippled him. He's shared it with all of us. It's clouded -- shadowed in a way that only a vision of a strong magical enemy can be -- but there's no question of the danger. If this vision should ever come to be, then all the world -- not just Ceres, but the world -- could fall under that shadow.
 
"Someone out there is searching for Princess Sakura, Kuro-chan. Somebody out there wants her power. And if he should get it -- if he should find her somehow -- it would be an utter disaster. Whoever he is, he's tried many times to get a spy inside the palace at Ruval, but we've always been able to stop him -- so far. That's why we have the Eyes, and the other magical defenses. But we still have to be careful."
 
Kurogane was somewhat taken aback by this portentous foretelling. "Are you serious?" he demanded. "Yukito -- he couldn't be mistaken, could he?"
 
Fai shook his head again, eyes grave. "He shared it with all of us, as well as the king," he said quietly. "All of the wizards know, and so we understand the importance of keeping Sakura's presence secret. The others, the nobles or palace servants, know about the rule but they don't know why. But now you understand, I hope. I love Sakura dearly, and I don't want her to be unhappy, but this is bigger than her -- bigger than any of us. Sakura must not be seen, must never be found."

Chapter Text

Syaoran craned his neck to compensate for his blind side as he followed Sakura through the narrow passages. They snaked off in an amazing number of directions, and he was awed as he tried to gauge by eye where they all ended up. He had to admit, when the princess had promised to show him a secret, he'd been thinking she would show him some hidden treasure of her own. He hadn't been expecting anything like this - secret passages within the heart of the castle itself! "This place is a warren," he marveled. "Does anyone have plans of the castle that show all these hallways?"

"Shhh," Sakura tugged on his hand as she held her finger to her lips. She leaned in close to him, her breath puffing against his ear and sending delighted thrills down his spine. "You've got to keep quiet! Some of these vents open up in busy areas. They'll hear us if we're not careful!"

Syaoran obediently fell silent, following along behind her down the dusty corridor. They were extremely narrow, only what could be squeezed into a thick stone wall; if he'd grown much over the past few years, he would have found it an uncomfortably tight squeeze. Sakura scampered ahead like a squirrel, heedless of the tight quarters, her sandals scraping over the dusty stone as she climbed a steep staircase. Syaoran remembered the servant girl's accusation about peeping with a mortified blush, and kept his eyes resolutely averted as he climbed behind her by feel.

At the top of the stairs was a low-ceilinged causeway that both of them had to crawl to fit through. A long, low opening in the stone beside them spilled lamplight from some gallery on the other side of the wall, and voices echoed in from the gallery below. As they reached the end of the passageway, Sakura sat back on her heels and beckoned him over.

"Look down, but don't lean out," she whispered to him. "And don't speak loudly. The audience chamber is right below us!"

Fascinated, Syaoran leaned on his hands until he could see over the stone parapet. The chamber below them was large, and echoed cavernously; no tapestries or carpets softened the sound. A huge fire crackling on the hearth at the end of the hall and torches set in intervals struggled in vain to light the whole space; smoke and shadows danced near the ceiling. "There aren't any of those lights here," Syaoran wondered.

"The clan lords are very traditional," Sakura whispered behind her hand. "They refuse to use anything the wizards make. All of the major clans are represented here - the Silverlodes, the Lapidaires, the Adamites, the Pyrites, and the Ironholms. Look, there's Father, at the end of the table - he sits with them as equals here, since he's the last of the Fluorites."

Syaoran leaned forward eagerly, almost forgetting her earlier warning not to be seen. To his intense disappointment, he could only see the back of the King's head from this vantage, a smooth fall of raven hair capped by a silver circlet. He'd wanted to see the King's face, and yet at the same time, he was relieved not to.

Voices drifted up to them along with the smoke, long convoluted phrases in the Ceresian language. Syaoran listened, fascinated; he couldn't understand any of the words, but the strident, angry tones were clear enough. "What are they talking about?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Sakura listened for a moment, frowning, then shook her head. "I don't think I could translate it all," she said apologetically. "Basically, they're just being difficult. They want him to restore some of the traditional privileges of the clan lords - tithes and the like - and they're refusing to cooperate unless he does."

"Oh." Syaoran quickly lost interest in the finer points of Ceres politicking, instead turning to study each clan lord with interest. They all seemed to be tall, dark-eyed and strong-featured, although their skin and hair coloring was still much lighter than was normal in Nihon. One large man, with long hair that was nearly pure white, sat at Ashura's left hand; he put his hand on the king's arm and leaned in to whisper in his ear, only to be angrily shaken off by Ashura.

"That's Lord Taishakuten," Sakura supplied for him, "and going around to his left is Lady Kisshou, Lord Koumoku, Lord Bishamon, and Lord Kumara. It's really kind of weird to see them all in the same room like this - normally they're fighting among themselves like anything. But I guess they're really determined to get something from Father this time. They're threatening to pull out their troops and workers unless he cooperates, and that's a clan right that hasn't been invoked in hundreds of years."

"You know a lot about politics," Syaoran commented, tearing his gaze away from the gathering below to meet her eyes. "For someone so young, that's really amazing. Do you listen in on the council sessions often?"

Unexpectedly Sakura dropped her eyes, blushing like a child caught out in a misdemeanor. "Only sometimes," she mumbled. "I… I want to know what's going on in Ceres, and because I'm just a girl, nobody will tell me what's happening."

Sakura looked away, biting her lip. "Let's go back," she said quietly.

"Okay." Syaoran followed humbly behind her, wondering what he had said to upset her so and kicking himself for it. She stayed uncharacteristically quiet as they navigated carefully through the maze of passages, not saying a word until they had come out of the concealed entrance to the main hallways.

"Sakura," he said finally, unable to take the subdued quiet any more, "what's wrong?"

She shook her head, and gave him a wan smile. "It's nothing you should be worried about, Syaoran. It's nothing you can do anything about."

"If it's bothering you, I want to know what's wrong," he said boldly. "You don't know that I can't help until you ask."

Sakura sighed, and sat on the stone step with her legs folded together, rubbing her palms over the smooth material of the dress. "I just hate to hear them talking like that," she said in a tiny voice. "They're not happy that the war ended, they want more of their land back. If things keep going too badly… then they might want to go to war again."

"What?" Syaoran stared at Sakura in shock, and felt anger flare within his chest. "Attack us again? Why? Just because they want more land? That's not fair! They shouldn't have the right to do that!"

He'd promised himself he wouldn't yell at the princess for things that weren't her fault; but once he'd started to give vent to his feelings, the long frustration that had bottled up inside his chest came boiling out. "You attacked us with magic, wizards that called poison out of the sky and fire out of the ground! What chance did we have against that? It wasn't fair! There were innocent people living up on the borders who died along with all the soldiers! And now the ones who got to run away have no homes, no place to live. And now they want to start all that again? Just because they're greedy and the land they have now isn't enough for them?"

Tears sprang up in Sakura's eyes, and she hugged her arms around her bent knees. "I'm sorry, Syaoran-san," she whispered. "I don't want war! It's horrible, it hurts so many people. But we didn't have a choice."

"Everyone has a choice," Syaoran fumed. "You always have a choice not to attack other people and steal their things!"

"No, we didn't!" Sakura said, more sharply than Syaoran had ever heard from her before. He stared. Her eyes shimmered with tears, but there was a stubborn set to her mouth underneath them. "Nihon's army had ten thousand soldiers, and we had none! We had to use magic to defend ourselves, it was the only way to survive. And we need that land, too. Without it, the people of Ceres will starve, like they have been starving for as long as I've been alive! I don't want us to go to war! But I don't want any more of our people to die, either!"

Syaoran stared at Sakura with his mouth hanging open, stunned by her sudden vehemence. His sensei had tried to tell him the same things, but he'd let the argument roll off the cloak of his angry, carefully nurtured hatred. Sakura continued, her voice rising with passion.

"Even in Ruval, down in the city below the palace walls, there are people starving to death, people who put their children out in the streets because they can't afford to feed them, there's not enough grain for everybody, they have to save it for the people who can work. There's nothing I can do to stop it I have everything here, but there are so many people who have nothing. Those are my people! I should be helping them, but I can't do anything! I'm the princess of Ceres, but what good am I to anyone?"

She burst into sobs, the tears streaming down her face, and Syaoran didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say to her, what anyone could possibly say, and he cursed himself for making her so upset. He wanted to comfort her, he knew he ought to. But he didn't know how. He'd never been very articulate, always preferring to show his feelings through action instead of words. Years of living with Kurogane had reinforced this habit; there was no point in talking about something if you could just do it. But he had no idea what to do to make things better for her.

At a loss for anything else to do, he awkwardly put one arm around her back, and rubbed her shoulder. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," he mumbled, feeling stupid but not knowing what else to say. "It's not your fault. I was just angry, but it's not like there was anything you could do about it…"

"I just wish," she said between sobs, "I just wish that I could. I don't want there to be war! I don't want people to be hurt and killed and have everything taken away. But what other way is there? I just wish there was something I could do!"

"Well," Syaoran said, struggling to find words that would be comforting, that wouldn't come out sounding wrong; "you're still just a kid, right?"

She glared at him, which was at least a relief from the sobbing. "I'm not a child. I'm fourteen."

Just one year younger than himself - but her sheltered innocence made her seem much younger. He backpedaled. "Well, nobody expects you to save the world all by yourself before you're fifteen years old," he said instead. "You still - have some growing up to do. Other chances will come. You just have to be ready to - to take advantage when they do."

He held her as she sniffled, occasionally patting her gently on the shoulder, and tried not to look too hard at his own thoughts.

He'd always wanted to think of Ceres as the villain, a faceless country of foreboding evil that was responsible for all that was wrong in the world. It had all started when they - a faceless, unknown They - had murdered his father, and he'd only been vindicated in his opinion when Ceres unjustly declared war on Nihon, unleashing terrible devastation on their borders and killing thousands. Other people, including his sensei, had tried to convince him that they had their reasons too, but he had refused to listen.

Now he couldn't refuse to listen, or to look; now Ceres had a face to him, a pretty tear-stained face with ginger hair and green eyes. Sakura was a Ceresian - more than that, she was a member of the royal family, child of the diabolic King Ashura who was responsible for all Ceres' evil. But he couldn't think of her as evil, couldn't associate her with Ceres' crimes at all. She was gentle and kind, she had a beautiful laugh, and she worried and cried so much over her country's subjects - little people, peasants and farmers, the people whom kings and nobles tended to ignore. But she cared about them. She really did.

And Syaoran couldn't help but think, if she cared so much about them, then maybe they were worth caring for. Maybe Ceres was made up of human beings just like Nihon, who had lives and who laughed and cried just like normal people. He tried to block that thought, push it away, because it threatened the foundations of his hatred; but he couldn't shut it out entirely.

His father wouldn't have wanted him to hate. He could admit that now. Fujitaka had been a kind man, a peaceful academic, generous and forgiving. He'd been excited by the reports coming out of Ceres of the amazing things they were doing with scholarship and magic, and he'd wanted to learn. For the Ceres wizards to turn all that gentle curiosity back on itself - for them to murder him so unjustly - Syaoran had hated them for years. Avenging Fujitaka had been the only thing he had left of his father, the man who'd picked him up off the street when he'd been too young to remember and raised him. Without that last connection to his father, who was he?

He'd told Sakura that you didn't need to have a purpose in life to be happy, but wasn't he the same way? Despising Ceres and the evil it represented, setting himself up as a crusader for justice - that had been his whole purpose in life. He was afraid to let go of his thirst for revenge, because without it, who was he? Who did he serve now?

I have Sakura now, he reminded himself sharply, giving the sniffling girl a little hug. Even if nobody else needed him, she still did.

Yukito arrived after all the other wizards had gone, flushed and out of breath from running and his amber-colored eyes bright with joy. His relief and happiness at seeing Fai up and healthy was unabashed, and he at least had the decency not to embarrass Kurogane by teasing him over what exactly he'd done to bring this about. Fai had asked to be filled in on what had happened while he was out of things, and the two quickly fell into a rapid and animated discussion that excluded Kurogane entirely.

Kurogane had intended to listen in out of a vague feeling of obligation; as Nihon's only ambassador, surely it was his duty to understand as much of what was going on in the palace as possible. But he found it impossible to keep up with what they were saying; half the time they were speaking in Ceresian, the other half they talked in what sounded like Nihongo, but using such obscure and unfamiliar terms that it made absolutely no sense to him. After a few minutes he stopped trying to follow along and just leaned against the wall of the chamber, watching them.

He eventually realized that he could pick up more from their body language - and from the faint resonance of his connection through Fai - than with his ears. From Yukito's frequent headshakes and hand-wringing - and Fai's rapidly oscillating feelings of disbelief and disappointment - he gathered that there was bad news. Something wasn't getting done, or at least not done right, and Fai was upset and annoyed by the lack.

"…I'm telling you, my lord Fai, is that Ashura just doesn't trust me anymore," Yukito was saying, and the mention of that name brought Kurogane's attention abruptly back. "He won't let me re-establish the screens - he won't even let me start! He keeps saying he wants Clef to do it, but you know he can't. He knows he can't, he doesn't have the right skills. All he can do is re-send the seeker spells at regular intervals, but that was never something that was meant to work on a permanent basis, and it's not like he has the time to spare to keep it running every day or so."

"What is he thinking?" Fai exclaimed with annoyance. "So long as the aural screen is down, we're wide open! Anyone with the right words could get right up the valley as far as the palace itself, before they hit the protected walls, they wouldn't even need -"

"He's counting on the physical access points being protected so that nobody can get through," Yukito answered, and spread his hands helplessly at the exasperated look Fai leveled at him. "I know! But he doesn't. Talk to him, Fai, please! Make him understand how important this is. He's not interested in technical details, but he trusts you. I have to have permission to work with Ruval's intrinsic magics again, or I can't do anything."

Fai sighed, and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his eyes. It was getting longer, Kurogane noticed irrelevantly, and now threatened to hang in his face every time strands escaped from the ponytail he kept it in. "I don't know why everyone has such hopes from me," he said. "You know I can't force King Ashura to do anything once he's made up his mind."

"You could at least try," Yukito said hopefully. "If nothing else, you could do what Clef can't. If he really refuses to trust me on magical defenses any more…"

Fai made a face, but before he could reply, the door to the inner chamber abruptly swung open, and both fair heads swiveled abruptly towards it. Kurogane pushed himself off the wall and took several steps forward as the majordomo stepped into the room.

"His majesty's audience with the clan lords has concluded," he announced importantly, "and he now wishes to see the First Senior Wizard. Come, please."

Kurogane fell into step behind them as they entered the audience chamber; they were just in time to see another group of men - Kurogane assumed they were the elusive clan lords who were being such pains in the asses to everyone - departing. His attention was quickly riveted by the Ceres King, who was looking up and frowning to see Kurogane.

"This is a business meeting to discuss state affairs," he said brusquely, "not a social affair. I asked only to speak to my wizards; you were not invited, Lord Suwa."

"Getting a chance to see you is an obstacle course, it seems," Kurogane snapped back. "I have no intention of cooling my heels in the hallways while you find excuses to avoid me for the next few weeks."

Ashura opened his mouth to snap back some reply - perhaps to call for guards to haul the unwanted ambassador away - but then Fai shifted a half step closer to Kurogane.

It was a subtle movement, and nothing was said, but the change in his body language was clear; leaning closer to Kurogane but with his eyes on Ashura, an unspoken defiance in the set of his shoulder and tilt of his head. If you throw him out, you'll have to throw me out too, was the silent challenge.

It warmed Kurogane's heart, but had the opposite effect on Ashura; his face soured, and he glared indiscriminately at the both of them. "Very well then," he snapped, then seemed to recover his composure somewhat. "I trust you are finding my hospitality acceptable, Ambassador Suwa? I would hate to disappoint such an honored guest."

"It's about as good as I expected," Kurogane returned, matching his glare with one of equal heat. "At least better than last time, when 'guest' was just a nicer way of saying 'prisoner.' "

"Of course. You will find us a kind and accommodating people, when you come to us not as an enemy soldier, but as a supplicant on behalf of a defeated people," Ashura said with false pleasantness. Kurogane scowled fiercely, absorbing the insult, and drew a breath to retort when Fai intervened.

"Your Majesty, Kurogane, this is not the time to re-open unpleasantries," Fai said hastily, stepping between them. It was only a symbolic gesture - a good head taller than him, Kurogane could continue to exchange glares with Ashura over the top of his head - but he looked away and let out his breath unspoken anyway.

"Indeed, it is not," Ashura said after a moment of difficulty. He turned from Kurogane to Fai, and the animosity drained out of his expression, being replaced by something that genuinely resembled concern. "Fai. You are feeling better?"

Fai smiled. "Much better, Sire," he answered. "I'm quite fit to get back to work. Kuro-s - Lord Suwa's aid has been invaluable to me. I owe him my health and my life." He stole a glance back at Kurogane, giving him a smile that was meant only for him, and creeping his hand into Kurogane's.

"Idiot, you don't owe me anything," Kurogane muttered, not wanting to expose such weakness in front of Ashura."

"Yes, of course," Ashura said, a slightly disgruntled tone in his voice despite his sincere gladness to see Fai well. "You have Our thanks for responding so swiftly to our plea. In all seriousness, you will find our hospitality is not lacking - the guest quarters you were placed in are merely a temporary measure. I will have my servants arrange for a better suite of rooms to be prepared for your permanent residence."

"There will be no need for that," Fai said, stepping in swiftly before Kurogane could respond to that permanent. "He'll be staying in my quarters."

Fai and Ashura locked gazes, and Kurogane began to feel like a bone that two dogs were worrying for possession. "Wait," he said, breaking into the deadlock. "What's this permanent supposed to mean? I'm not going to be staying here forever, I have to get back home before too long."

Beside him, Fai had gone very quiet and still. Ashura's eyebrows went up. "Well, of course your appointment is a long-term one," he said. "Was that not made clear to you? Fai will, of course, continue to require nourishment from you. Did you not come expecting that? And you will need to have some place to stay in the castle - rooms that are your own, not belonging to another - during the weeks that Fai is away on his duties."

Kurogane fell silent, momentarily stunned speechless by this rapid readjustment of his priorities. Stupid, he hadn't been thinking - of course Fai would continue to need him, he couldn't just take off for home now that his duty had been done once. But - weeks alone in the palace? How long would need to stay away from his homeland? He hadn't foreseen this at all. Was this what Tomoyo had meant when she'd told him that he wouldn't be returning home anytime soon?

"Duties that have been put off for far too long," Ashura was now saying, taking advantage of the momentary silence. "I am glad that you are well, Fai, not only for myself but for the good of the kingdom; we have sore need of your power and knowledge. Are you prepared to take on your workload once again?"

"I am at your command, Sire," Fai said, sounding unusually subdued.

Ashura smiled - a small, quickly controlled smile of triumph, and turned his attention to a stack of papers on his desk. "Good," he said. "As Yukito should have informed you already, the first crop of wheat is almost ready for harvesting in the lower valleys. It should be ready within the next several days. Miroku has been overseeing the growth acceleration spells, but more will be required when we actually go to harvest. We'll require good weather for all the days of the harvest, and aside from General Ko, who has other duties, your weatherworking skills are the most potent. In addition, the harvested grain will require constant monitoring to make certain it does not begin to accelerate into rot. And then there is the question of providing security to the laborers - "

"Security, my lord?" Yukito broke in. "Security from whom?"

Ashura paused in his list of chores, eyes narrowing at his errant wizard. "From bandits, of course," he said after a long pause.

"Bandits, here?" Yukito echoed with surprise. "We haven't had attacks from roving bandits in many years. Surely you don't think any of our people would be so patriotic - or short-sighted - to sabotage our own harvest."

Ashura's lips compressed in irritation. "Very well. Security from Nihon marauders, then," he said impatiently.

"Have there been attacks from over the border by Nihon?" Kurogane broke in, alarmed by the implications. Crap. If some of the hotheads from Nihon had gotten it into their head to resume the old games of across-the-border raid and reprisal, then any chance of securing a peace treaty would be out in the midden heap.

Ashura transferred his exasperated glare to Kurogane, who met it head-on. "Perhaps you had forgotten, but we lost most of last autumn's harvest to the depradations of Nihon's -"

"But have there been any attacks since then?" Kurogane interrupted. He remembered the smoke rising from the scorched fields in the Ceres valley all too well, the burnt-out hollows of buildings.

"No," Ashura finally admitted grudgingly. "But it is still a risk we cannot take."

Kurogane breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that northern Nihon still remembered the terror of the wizards of Ceres in a way that the capital probably did not. But there was no telling how long that fear-induced docility would last.

This seemed to be the opening he'd been looking for, and Kurogane seized on it. "That's all the more reason that Nihon and Ceres should settle on a peace treaty as soon as possible," Kurogane said strongly, ignoring the astonished stares of both of the wizards as he leveled a challenging glare at the king. "If we had an official treaty, then anyone who pushed across the border would be in violation, and we could punish them for it."

Ashura looked around at the three of them, then groaned, dragging his hand over his face. "I should never have allowed the three of you in the same room," he said in a muffled voice. "It's like a three-headed hydra. I should invite Minister Galladon in here, and then the four of you could howl for a treaty in four-part harmony."

Who the hell was Gallawix? Kurogane caught the movement of Fai's head as he turned slightly away from his king, his eyes rolling slightly in exasperation.

"Look," Kurogane said firmly, stepping into the center spot before Ashura's chair. "You don't have to like me. You don't have to like my countrymen, and you certainly don't have to like my queen."

Ashura raised his eyebrows, and Kurogane bit his tongue; he supposed that hadn't been very diplomatic. But he forged forward anyway. "But what I'm telling you is that you need to sign a treaty," he said. "Now, not later. While you can still get the court at Shirasagi to accept it. They're afraid of you now, but that won't last forever. After a few months when the memories of what you did to them on the battlefield begins to fade, then the clamor for revenge will only increase. They hate you, King of Ceres. They hate you enough that in another year Amaterasu will be ready to risk another war. She has to, or risk losing her throne."

"I can't decide if I'm listening to a proposal or a threat," Ashura said acerbically. "What do I care for the tender feelings of Nihon nobles? For the bloodthirsty arrogance of your idiot empress? If she wants another war, then let her come! We'll defeat them as easily as we did the last time - again and again until they are no more than a miserable collection of survivors huddling in holes in the ground!"

"Can you really do that?" Kurogane shot back, his own hackles raised by the threat and the insults to his empress. "Look, I'll be blunt. It's clear that you have the better force, you can beat any army we put in the field against you. But how long can you keep it up? It's obvious you're up against a wall here. You're straining everything past its limits just to maintain what you have. You need peace right now, even if you don't want it.

"Nihon may not be able to win against you, but they hate you enough that they're willing to take losses trying; and you know perfectly well, Your Majesty, that Ceres cannot afford another victory like this one."

Ashura sat back, fingers tapping a rhythm on the arm of his chair, gazing at Kurogane through slitted eyes. The pressure simmered in the close stone room, oppressive in the magically generated warmth. It was obvious he wanted Kurogane to sweat; he refused, returning the glare with equal intensity.

"I wonder," Ashura said at last, and some of the dangerous edge had gone out of his voice, leaving him sounding almost tired. "What is it that makes your people hate us so. Is it the land? You people have more land, more than than we have ever dreamed of, more than you can possibly use. I have heard of the barbarous provinces that Nihon has conquered to the east, to say nothing of the vast wilderness to the west. Why, then, is this relatively unimportant strip of land so important to you?"

"It isn't about the land," Kurogane replied honestly. "It's pride. You've beaten us, Your Majesty; and that's something we're not accustomed to. It's not something we've had to deal with very often."

"Perhaps it is time for you to learn," Ashura said acidly. "But here, Lord Suwa, I thought your people prided themselves on their honor. You consider yourself warriors, do you not? Can you not respect an adversary who clearly displays greater skill, greater strength?"

"My people value their honor very highly, King Ashura," Kurogane said stiffly. "It is not only a question of strength, but of appearances. If one man defeats another in fair combat, he would never boast or gloat about his victory - he would always offer the loser some way to keep his dignity and reputation. The Empress won't just accept an unconditional defeat, the lords would never accept that. If you could offer her some concession - "

Ashura lifted his head from his chest, the corners of his mouth pulling down. "You're saying that I, the victor, owe something to those who tried to destroy my country?" he demanded incredulously.

"I'm saying that the fastest way to secure peace," Kurogane replied through his teeth, "and stability in this corner of the world, is to give the Nihon government some way to save face."

Silence rang in the audience chamber for a long, stony moment.

"We will not concede any of our ancestral lands," Ashura said, his voice obstinate as granite. "That is final."

Kurogane shrugged. "It doesn't have to be land," he said, saying a silent apology to Kendappa for not being able to win that; he knew a sticking point when he saw one. "Something else of value."

"And what do your people value?" Fai put in, bemused. Kurogane was caught off guard, having almost forgotten that he was there.

"Well, we," Kurogane cursed himself for the stutter in his voice; he hadn't anticipated this question and he had no prepared response. "We honor the gods and revere our ancestors, of course. Family - blood-kin is the strongest bond that we have -"

"It doesn't make a very good gift, though," Fai sounded amused. "You told me once that a steel suit of armor could buy enough grain to feed a family for a year. Steel?"

"We are not in a hurry to put our finest weapons in the hands of a Nihon army, either," Ashura growled.

"What about magic?" Yukito asked eagerly. "We have learned many arts and techniques with wizardry which Nihon could take advantage of, to better their country and the lives of their people. Such a huge empire - imagine how they could benefit from a few long-distance gramerhains!"

Kurogane winced. "I don't think they'd be interested in something like that," he said. "Right now people have little enough love for wizards."

"And why is that?" Ashura pounced on that statement. "It was, after all, the same wizards that you despise which saved your country from the depredations of the demon army last year -"

Hypocrite! Kurogane thought furiously. After you keep flogging poor Yukito over saving us, but now, when it's convenient for you, you can so easily take credit for it? He managed to keep his tongue, and a neutral expression, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Fai wince.

" - and indeed, you have no shortage of magic-users of your own," Ashura continued relentlessly. "By what hypocrisy can your countrymen justify their hatred the wizards of Ceres?"

Kurogane controlled his temper with an effort. "We have our own female magic-users, Your Majesty," he said impatiently. "Magic in Nihon has always been the business of women. Men who use magic are strange at best, a perversion at worst."

Ashura sputtered incredulously, leading Kurogane to wonder if he had really never known this before. The other two obviously knew; Yukito was unsuccessfully fighting off a deep red blush, and Fai seemed to have trouble containing his laughter. Kurogane scowled at him, silently urging him to take this seriously. "And we don't mix magic with war. The reason why Nihon does not respect your superior strength in battle, King Ashura, is because as far as they're concerned, you cheated, and you used men to steal away what rightfully belongs to the sacred women."

"Ridiculous," Ashura huffed, sitting back on his throne. "Stupid superstitions. No wonder the Nihon empire is as willfully ignorant as it is, to leave all affairs of importance in the hands of women!"

"Perhaps the Nihon court would respond more favorably if we sent a female ambassador," Fai interjected placatingly. "It sounds like they would be more receptive to a female wizard."

"Apart from General Ko, who has more pressing duties, I have none to send," Ashura snapped, glaring poisonously at Yukito. "Female wizards are valuable and rare; and Karura, my only other female student, died in a senseless battle in a place where she should never have been."

"If General Ko has too many duties to spare," Yukito said, then gulped and continued "Why not send me? Since you've made it abundantly clear that I have no purpose to serve in Ruval! Apart from the general, I am undoubtedly the best candidate for an emissary. I have - I have a status on Nihon, and connections there as well. Surely I could be more use to you there than wasting my days around the palace here. Let me serve my country again, sire!"

The unexpectedly passionate declaration rang in the suddenly still air of the chamber.

"I will not lie to you, Yukito, I have long wondered," Ashura said in a voice that was deceptively pleasant, dangerously calm. "Having rescued you, raised you, and taught you all those skills of wizardry that you so esteem, I would have thought that you would remain loyal to the country that nurtured you, not the one that cast you out. And yet - it remains true that you were born in Nihon. Does some quiescent nature of your blood, some ineradicable part of your bones, still incline you towards the country of your birth? Where does your allegiance lie, Yukito? Are you loyal to me - or are you loyal to Nihon?"

"Your Majesty -" Fai started to protest, stepping forward quickly, but Yukito stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, shook his head. He took a deep breath and slowly turned to face his king, and only those standing close enough would have seen the death-grip that his fingers had on his staff.

"My loyalty lies with the future of Ceres," Yukito said, and his voice rang out with such unshakeable confidence and certainty that Ashura sat back, frowning. But Yukito wasn't done yet. "I strive, as I always have, towards the future in which Ceres is powerful and rich; our fields full and fertile, our people healthy and strong. I see a vision of the future where Ceres is feared and respected throughout all the lands around, where our language is spoken at courts all over the world, where kings in distant countries envy our sophistication, and compete to send their children to Ruval to be educated.

"That is where my loyalty lies, your majesty. Is that not where yours does too? Is that not the goal that you have toiled all your life, all your reign to bring to pass?" His voice had risen in passionate conviction as he spoke, and this last had the force of a challenge.

"I have," Ashura said, sounding thoroughly taken aback. As though he could do otherwise, when presented with a picture like that.

"But Sire, I believe - as I always have - that to achieve that future, to spread our influence throughout the lands, we must first come to terms with our closest neighbors," Yukito insisted. "We cannot conquer the world - not with armies, not in our lifetime. Even a wizard's lifetime is not long enough to see Ceres grow so strong. Surely you must know that, Your Majesty, even if you don't want to admit it. Surely you can see that it's time to try another way."

"It's time for us to try another way, also," Kurogane spoke up, his voice ringing out in the silence. "Your Majesty - King Ashura - you probably know the history of Nihon as well as I do, if not better. We're a warrior people, and we always have been. We don't really know how to deal with other countries except to conquer them by force of arms and subdue them to tributary states.

"We've never had to deal with a power like Ceres before - one that we can't beat no matter how hard we try, one that could burn us down to the ground. But I think we're going to have to learn. If we're going to stay a great people, then we're going to have to learn peace. And there's no better time than now. The High Priestess and the Crown Prince favor peace; they have kind intentions towards your country. Between them, they can keep the Empress in line - kin and clan are powerful binding forces in our society, second to none. There will never be a better time."

"Surely it would be better for both of our countries to form an alliance." Fai broke into the conversation there, his voice soft and gentle, persuasive. "What each country has, the other lacks. Nihon is overflowing with people, capable workers, and have an abundance of food, wood, cotton, all the fruits of the land. If we could stop trying to kill each other for a few years, long enough to see the benefits of cooperation…" He let the sentence trail off suggestively.

Ashura sat very still on his throne, his face an cold unmoving mask. Kurogane shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether he should throw in an additional argument, but Fai's hand caught his and squeezed warningly, and he kept quiet.

At last, Ashura stirred. "There may be truth in what you each have to say," he said reluctantly, the words sounding like they were dragged out of him. "I will think on it. Fai, begin your preparations, but do not depart for the border today. The full council will convene in two days' time and I want you to be there for it. I will announce my final decision then. This audience is over."

There was a firm finality to his voice that reminded Kurogane inescapably of Amaterasu; she had just such a manner when she wanted to chew over something in private. As much as he wanted to continue the debate, and disliked leaving a battle half-fought, he didn't resist Fai's hand on his elbow as it tugged him insistently away. Yukito, too, looked like he couldn't escape the audience room soon enough.

Once they were safely outside the doors, Yukito shuddered and let a high sigh of relief. "Phew! That went much further than I expected," he said. "Lord Suwa, you don't fool around, do you?"

Fai laughed breathlessly, although the sound was as much relief as humor. "I'm glad, though," he said. "I never thought we would get His Majesty to agree so quickly."

Kurogane looked at Fai in surprise. "But he didn't agree to anything," he objected. "All he said was, he'd think about it."

Fai chuckled dryly. "Do you have any idea how hard it is, to get him to concede even that much?" he asked. "He'd never just agree to something proposed by his advisors just like that. He'll think about it, and tomorrow at the council he will present a new vision, one that has his own ideas in it instead of ours. That's the only way he can feel like he still regains control."

"Huh." Kurogane frowned, viewing the conversation with the monarch in this new light. If Ashura really was seriously considering a peace treaty, that was good; but unlike the two wizards, who were now chattering happily in relief, he didn't quite trust in Ashura's judgments that much. Somehow, he suspected, the king would still manage to surprise them, and he didn't think he'd like how Ashura did it.

Fai walked together with Kurogane back towards his chamber to change for dinner, just close enough that his fingertips brushed lightly against the warrior's. He was looking forward to a peaceful evening; although Kurogane's blood had restored his health, he was still not used to the rush of activity and stress again, and he felt wrung out.

Being caught in a room with Ashura and Kurogane at once - feeling both of them pulling at his emotions, clamoring for his attentions - was draining. They were both so domineering, in very different ways; Kurogane's bullheadedness stubbornly eluded Ashura's every attempt at coercion and manipulation, and Ashura's unending tendency to belittle him drove Kurogane into fits of rage. Although, he had to admit with a smirk, watching Kurogane and Ashura go at it would be funny if it weren't so stressful.

"Niisan!"

Fai whirled around, and was almost knocked off his feet by a small, ginger-haired bundle of energy. "Sakura!" he cried, sweeping her into his arms and twirling them around in a circle in the hallway. "How are you, little flower-princess?"

Kurogane had stopped walking, too, and turned to regard them. He folded his arms in a posture and let out a sigh of exaggerated patience, although a small fond smile twitched at the side of his mouth.

"I'm fine, of course! I haven't seen you in so long!" It was a long minute before she was willing to loosen her viselike grip enough to step back and turn her face up to him. Her eyes were red and puffy, as though she'd recently been crying, and Fai felt his heart twinge in remorse for making her sad. "I was worried about you!"

"Are you really all right?" she demanded anxiously.

"Now that I've seen your smiling face," he told her cheerfully, reaching out to pluck an errant feather from a crease of her clothes. Feathers, hmm? She must have been on the roof again. "That's all I need to feel better! It's a hundred times better than any medicine!"

Sakura's brows drew down in a frown, and she put her hands on her hips. "If that were true, then why didn't you let me see you while you were sick?" she demanded.

Touche. Fai sighed. "Because seeing you cry would have made me feel a hundred times worse," he said gently. He tugged at her sleeve. "I'm all right now, Sakura, truly. Kuro-ouji will make sure that I don't get so sick again."

"You're damn right about that," Kurogane said in a fierce voice. " - and what's this ouji business about, anyway?"

Fai only smirked at him. "Every princess needs a charming prince, Kuro-ouji," he said.

"Oh!" Sakura whirled to face Kurogane, gawking, then clasped her hands and bowed deeply in front of the larger man. "Kurogane-san! I'm so glad to see you again. Thank you so much for coming all this way to help Fai-niisan."

"It was nothing," Kurogane said gruffly, and Sakura beamed at him before turning back to Fai.

"Fai-niisan, will I see you at dinner?" she asked anxiously. "Something wonderful has happened, and I want to tell you all about it!"

"I'm sure I can manage to sit near you," he said cheerfully. "I can't wait to hear all about what you've been doing the past few weeks. Have you been keeping up with your studies with Kazahaya and the other students?"

Sakura's smile dimmed a bit. "Um, didn't you hear?" she asked timidly. "Kazahaya was sent to the northern valleys last week. All the classes have been postponed. There's no one left to teach us." There was a loneliness in her voice that bordered on resentment.

"Oh." Fai was taken aback. He gave her another little hug. "I'm sorry about that, Flower-princess. I know that we've all been very busy lately, and nobody has time to spend with you. But with any luck, something good will happen soon that will let all of us ease up a little bit."

"Fai-niisan, can't you teach me?" she said plaintively.

Fai sighed. "I don't know, princess. I don't think so. Now that I'm better, King Ashura has a lot of chores for me to take care of. I'll spend what time with you that I can." He felt a mild twinge of regret at losing even more of his precious time spent with Kurogane, but it couldn't be helped.

"But, but, what about my lessons?" Her face bunched in anxiety, hands twisting in the hem of her skirt. "How can I learn about magic when there's no one to teach me? If I don't learn, then how am I going to be able to help you when you are king and I am queen?"

The question stopped him cold, literally; the blood rushed away from his face and for a moment he had trouble breathing. Kurogane came abruptly away from his lurking posture, gaze intense on Fai's face. He had to get control of himself; he managed to force a laugh. "S-sakura-chan, don't you think that's all much too far away to think about now?" he said weakly. "Your father will live for many, many years yet, and you're just a child still!"

"But I won't be a child forever," Sakura said seriously, staring up into his remaining eye. "I have to start getting ready, I have to start thinking about what I can do to help everyone. If not now, then when?"

Several beats passed while Fai was unable to come up with a reply. Before the silence could get too obvious, Kurogane hmphed and moved up beside him, taking his arm. "We're going to be late while you dawdle here," he said. "We need to go get changed. Princess Sakura, it's good to see you again; we will talk more during dinner," he told her seriously.

"Oh, okay!" she said agreeably, and she stood staring, watching them until they turned the corridor out of sight.

"What do you think you're doing?" Kurogane hissed as they passed out of earshot. "Is she the only one in the palace who doesn't know about you and me? You can't keep her in the dark about this!"

"I know, I know," Fai said, shaking his head helplessly. "But - how can I explain things to her, Kuro-chan? I'm supposed to be her husband some day. I can't - I can't just tell her that I'm in love with someone else, another man. She would be devastated."

"If not now, then when?" Kurogane parroted back remorselessly. "The longer you wait, the harder it's going to be, you know."

"I know," Fai repeated again, and shut his eye as he leaned against Kurogane's shoulder, blocking out sight of the world. "I know. I'll tell her. But not tonight."

Chapter Text

Sakura dodged through the crowd of brightly-dressed people, skipping a few steps across the clean tiles when she broke into an empty space. Behind her, Ferio and today's lady-and-waiting trailed her resignedly through the crowd; she felt a little bad for outpacing them, but not particularly worried. Ruval palace was her home, after all, and the people who lived here were her family.

The proclamation session was going to start soon, and Sakura tingled with excitement as she scampered towards the large double doors of the hall. She hadn't been invited, but that didn't matter; unlike the private council sessions and negotiations, today's audience would be open to anyone. All royal decisions of state had to be proclaimed to the public before they could be written into law, and in a country where most of the nobility still were not literate, it was vitally necessary for them to bear witness to the proclamations.

Ever since she'd been old enough to understand what went on at the palace, Sakura always attended proclamation sessions when she could; they were practically the only government functions she could get into. By law and tradition these sessions were open to as many members of the public cared to attend and could fit into the audience hall. And it was a very large hall. Learning about history and statecraft from her tutors was one thing, but seeing it in action was something else altogether.

The crowd buzzed with excitement as she threaded her way inside, hurrying up the narrow path through the crowd to the frontmost benches that were reserved for the royal party. Everyone was interested in today's Proclamations; it was well known that the king had been involved for weeks in heated negotiations with the ministers, the clan lords, and foreign ambassadors, and was finally going to announce his decision.

Sakura settled onto the bench, her feet swinging nervously and her sandals scuffing over the stone. Her father wasn't here yet; her eyes wandered around the perimeter of the room, looking for familiar faces. The clan lords and their retinues made a solid block to her right, filling up several rows of the prime first-row benches. To the left, along the wall, sat all of the wizards who'd been able to make it back to the palace within two days' travel. Yukito sat off to the side, looking rather forlorn to be separated from his fellow mages.

Fai was there, of course, standing close together with Kurogane. They made a striking pair, one in black and and one in white, and it made her happy to see the good friends talking quietly together. At the same time, however, the sight filled her with confusion and a bit of unhappiness; she knew Fai was busy nowadays, but it somehow seemed as though he were avoiding her. He hadn't sat next to her at dinner two nights ago, like he'd promised; and it seemed like every time they crossed paths, he made some excuse to hurry away soon after. She often caught Kurogane-san glaring at Fai when this happened, although she couldn't figure out who he was angry at - Fai, or herself. It made her feel as lonely as Yukito.

At last the door behind the dais opened, and her father came out with several of his attendants. Sakura perked up, watching him; his gaze swept over the audience, pausing on her for only a moment before passing by without comment. He took up his stance on the center of the raised stage, and began the formal phrases that marked a Proclamation Ceremony.

His first few statements were nothing unusual; some changes to the disposition of troops, announcements about how the upcoming harvest was to be distributed. Sakura's interest peaked, however, when he turned his speech to the subject of wizards.

"For years they have proven their usefulness as tools and loyalty as servants to the kingdom of Ceres," Ashura was saying, letting his eyes briefly slide over the assembled rank of wizards. "So, from this day forth, they will continue to serve Ceres. Each one of the ancient Houses of Ceres shall have a wizard assigned to their court. They are to obey the commands of those of noble blood and serve them in governing the land as the lords see fit."

This was a major concession, and it put a powerful force into the hands of the noble faction. There was a murmur of satisfaction from the block of seated nobles, but Sakura looked anxiously at the row of wizards along the wall. They looked stony, and Sakura couldn't blame them. The clan lords were reputed to be harsh masters, even cruel. To be packed off like this, sent away from their homes and friends… Sakura shivered. But surely her father must have a good reason for what he was doing.

Her father was still speaking. "I have another announcement regarding the line of succession," Ashura announced, then paused to allow a rippling buzz of interest to die down.

Ashura glanced to the side, where Fai was watching him, his expression blank and closed; then away, as though the sight of him burned. "Although he remains, and always shall be, my son," Ashura continued in a more subdued voice, "Because of the demonic blood that has been inflicted upon his body, he is no longer fit to be a ruler of this kingdom. As of this day forth, Fai Flowright is no longer the heir to the royal throne; in the event of my death, the kingship shall not succeed to him, nor shall he command any of the powers or offices of an heir to the Kingdom. His only powers and responsibilities in the future shall be those of the office of a Wizard of Ceres."

The throne room erupted in a roar of sound and commentary, wavering wildly between glee and consternation. Sakura saw Fai close his eye, and turn away.

She was furious, almost angrier than she'd ever been; how dare her father publicly humiliate Fai this way? Many of the voices she heard talking excitedly around her were full of malicious delight; and although one some level she understood why, she had no choice but to sit there fuming and listen to them.

Many people had never been pleased with Fai as the heir presumptive. He was not born to Ceres, let alone to the royal bloodline; he was a magic-user; and now, he was not even human. Even those who did not dislike him as a person had not liked the idea of the throne passing into the hands of a demon wizard.

On the other hand, now that Fai had been explicitly disowned as heir, that left the country without a clear line of succession. If Ashura died now, nobody knew who would become king; it would devolve into an endless morass of petty squabbling among the noble clans as each tried to elevate their own candidate, and the country might very well collapse into civil war. Unless Ashura named another heir. The audience soon quieted, straining to hear Ashura's next words.

Sakura was so preoccupied with her own seething fury that it took her a minute to realize that her father's next words concerned her. "...the betrothal between the wizard Flowright and the princess," he was saying. "As his impure blood makes him unfit for the throne, so he is no longer a fit match for my daughter. The engagement between them is hereby dissolved."

An icy fist seemed to reach in and squeeze Sakura about the heart, as the meaning of those words slowly dawned upon her. She sat bolt upright and sent a terrified look of appeal towards the dais; at her father, who steadfastly avoided her gaze, and at Fai, who remained still and silent, eyes shut against the world. But the King was still talking.

"Instead, the throne of Ceres, along with all family lands of the Flowright clan and responsibilities thereof, will devolve upon my daughter's husband," Ashura was saying. "And this brings me to my final announcement.

"Many people from all quarters, high and low, have come to me over the last several weeks to appeal for peace with Nihon. Even the ambassador from Suwa himself brings word that Nihon, too, desires peace. Very well, we shall make peace; we will go forward hand in hand with Nihon as suitors, not as conqueror and conquered. And to mark this agreement and make it binding, the Princess Sakura of Ceres shall be married to the Crown Prince Touya of the Imperial House of Nihon, who has no wife -"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yukito stagger and sway, his usually pale skin drained to the color of chalk. But for herself, she could hardly believe what she was hearing, could hardly make sense of the words in her ears. Surely he couldn't mean -

Ashura was still talking, his voice increasing steadily in volume over the sounds of the audience " - on the condition that all of the lands south of the Windhome mountain range, and north of the Mashin river, will be ceded to unconditional Ceres control, as a bride-gift worthy of the value of my daughter's hand."

"No!" The denial burst out of her in a wail, rising above the hubbub of voices filling the council chamber. She was on her feet and could not remember getting there. "Father, why? You can't - "

"I will not hear any appeals!" the king said in a strong voice. "Your marriage will seal the peace between Nihon and Ceres. And your children, when you bear them to King Touya, will inherit both of the thrones. This marriage will bring peace and prosperity to our country, restore our ancestral lands and bind to us a powerful ally. My decision is final!"

Sakura was shaking all over, her teeth clenched against further protests or wails of grief. Tears filled her eyes, blurring the rich tapestries of the chamber walls together, blotting all of the people into faceless blobs of dark and light. She had never felt so betrayed.

All her life she'd wanted nothing more than to please her father, and help serve her country. Ashura had always been distant, cold; he had no time for children, and even less to spare for a useless girl-child such as herself. He had always been remote, an imposing figure not inclined to dispense affection or comfort. Fai had in many ways been more of a parent to her, teasing and teaching and nursing.

But she'd always thought that her father loved her, in his own cold and distant way. He'd always looked out for her, always kept her welfare in mind. She'd always known that, even if she felt stifled by his protective and autocratic control over her, that he only wanted what was best for his only child.

But this was… this was…

"This audience is finished," the King was saying, and he gestured for the guards to open the doors and begin escorting people out. "My fellow clan heads, great nobles, retire with me; in the privacy of the ancestral meeting hall, we will have a gathering of the guardians of the old blood of Ceres. There we will discuss further matters of state, including the distribution of our newly conquered lands… and the decision about what new laws must be drafted to curb the power of the wizards of Ceres. All others, you are dismissed."

She turned and ran out of the council chamber, half-blinded by her tears and barely avoiding caroming off the chamber archway as she fled.

She almost turned to the left at the next cross-corridor, which led to Fai's rooms; she wanted her brother to hold her and tell her everything would be all right. Fai had always been there for her before, comforting her, reassuring her.

But she remembered the cruel words her father had thrown down before the assembly; remembered his face, tense and wooden and turned aside so that he would not see people's gazes. Fai-niisan had his own sorrows and humiliations today. He didn't need the complaints of a hysterical teenage girl dumped on top of his own problems. And she knew that he couldn't tell her that it would be all right, because it wasn't; nothing would ever be all right, not ever again, not for either of them.

With a sob, she turned right instead, and fled to the sanctuary of her own rooms.

Syaoran stood before the doorway to Princess Sakura's chamber, feeling awkward and out of place. He hadn't been allowed to attend the Proclamation, of course, but he hadn't let that stop him; remembering the route of the secret passage that Sakura had showed him, he snuck in and had observed the whole scene from the peephole near the ceiling.

When he'd seen Sakura dash out of the hallway in tears, he'd followed her at once, but he felt awkward and out of place in these rich and feminine chambers. But he heard the muffled sobs and hitched breaths coming from within, and her misery drew him in despite his discomfort. "Princess Sakura?" Syaoran called tentatively. "It's me, Syaoran. I… I heard what happened in the throne room. Is… is there anything I can do to help?"

There was a pause, then a sniffling noise, and Sakura's voice raised in a quaver. "Come in."

He pushed aside the partition - barely more than a heavy curtain, it was more for privacy than for any real protection - and took a tentative step inside. Princess Sakura was sitting on her bed, clutching a slightly tear-stained pillow to her chest; an older woman in the servant's garb was sitting beside her, patting her shoulder and murmuring soothingly.

Syaoran began to wonder if he wasn't needed after all, but Sakura got up from the counterpane and threw herself at him, dropping the pillow in favor of latching onto him instead. "Oh, Syaoran," she cried, and his heart bumped and fluttered as he awkwardly raised his hands to pat her shoulders. "How could he?"

"Princess…" he started, then trailed off. The maidservant rose from the bed and retired to a large wing chair in the corner of the room, pulling her shawl about her. She seemed content to leave the young people to each other, although she showed no intention of leaving, for which Syaoran was obscurely grateful. He knew young men such as himself were not supposed to be in a girl's chamber unguarded, let alone one as high-born and important as the princess. While he would rather have died than hurt Sakura, he was intensely conscious of appearances; especially as an untrusted outsider, he was just as glad to have a witness present to his good behavior.

"How could he treat me like a, a… a thing he can sell, to buy up some land that he wants?" Sakura cried passionately, her voice broken by sobs. "A bargaining piece that he can give away? How could he stand there and talk about gaining a high enough value in return for me, like a pig at a fair? How could he?"

"I… I'm sorry," Syaoran said awkwardly, not knowing what to say. "It's not fair to you, Sakura. He shouldn't just marry you off to anyone without asking, without your consent. It's just wrong."

Sakura sniffed and pulled away a little, although she still clutched tightly to his jerkin as she shook her head helplessly. "It's n-not just that," she said. "I always knew that as a p-princess, my father would decide who I'd marry, and I w-wouldn't get asked. I was engaged to Fai, too, and no one ever asked my consent for that, but… but…"

"You were engaged to that old wizard?" Syaoran asked, shocked. "That's terrible! How could he marry you off to an evil old pervert like that, without even -"

"No! Fai's not like that," Sakura interrupted him vehemently, pushing him away and glaring with fierce, glowing green eyes. "He's not evil, he's not bad! He's smart and kind and funny and sweet, and he's always been good to me, always!"

In the face of her feelings, Syaoran stifled his angry rant about the perverted evils of wizards. "You…" he said doubtfully. "You wanted to marry him?"

"No… oh… I don't know…" Sakura's sat down on the edge of the bed again, and her hands twisted nervously in the cloth of the duvet. "I… I loved Fai-niisan. I would have been okay with spending the rest of my life with him, taking care of him and making him happy. But… he was more like an older brother, even though we aren't related. He helped raise me, teach me… in some ways he was almost like a parent to me. I didn't want to be his w-wife… but…"

"You would have accepted that," Syaoran finished the thought for her, and she nodded miserably. He sat down next to her, perched on the edge of the mattress. "But you can't accept this?"

Sakura was silent for a moment, then drew a deep breath. "I've known Fai-niisan all my life," she said in a wavering voice. "He is the gentlest person I've ever met, and I know that he would always be… good to me…"

She raised her eyes to meet his, and he could see the fear shining in the green depths. "I don't know anything about this man, Prince Touya," she whispered, fear evident in her voice. "What kind of man is he? All the nobles in Nihon, they're supposed to be great warriors… What if he's a violent man, and he decides that he doesn't want to marry me, but he has to anyway? What if he… if he…"

"Prince Touya isn't like that!" Syaoran blurted out, anxious to assuage her fears. "I mean… I don't know him as well as you know the senior wizard, but… I've always heard that he's very calm and laid back, and he doesn't have a temper at all. And he's honorable! He would never hurt a woman, especially not his wife."

"Really?" Sakura trembled, a faint note of hope threading through her voice.

"Everyone says he's a good man," Syaoran reassured her. "You can ask Sensei; he's met the royal family many times. His sister the Empress, the divine Amaterasu, she has a temper and can be really difficult; but his other sister Tomoyo is really nice and sweet. She'd like you, and you'd like her. I'm sure of it."

"What if…" Sakura's face clouded, and she bit her lip uncertainly. "What if they don't like me? What if they hate me? Not just the Crown Prince, but - but everyone? Because… because I'm from Ceres, and they hate Ceres, for… for what we did during the war…"

Syaoran squirmed uncomfortably. He didn't want to lie to Sakura, but he didn't want to tell her the truth, either; that until he came on this journey and met Sakura, he himself had borne such an irrational hatred for everyone and everything in Ceres. It was worse, much worse, in the capital at Edo, where anything associated with the white wizards of the North was despised; even anyone who spoke out in favor of them would be cursed and spat on, sometimes even attacked themselves. Only Kurogane's high rank and prestige - and the legendary prowess of his sword - had kept people respectful in his presence, and kept their house from being vandalized.

A Ceresian princess arriving alone at court in Edo would be the target of all that venom and hatred; and while the nobles at the court might not stoop to throwing stones or rotten fruit in the streets, the venom in their words would be unabated, and the potential for petty pranks and humiliations would be endless.

"I…" He didn't want to tell her all this, but he couldn't comfort her with lies, either. He tried another path. "I think they would learn to accept you, Princess," he said at last. "I think that once they met you, and had a chance to get to know you… then they would love you. They won't be able to help it. You're just such a good person, so kind and lovable, that a-anyone -" He stuttered and blushed, his face flooding red, and he tried hard not to look in the direction of the silent chaperone in the corner. "Anyone would love you…"

She didn't seem to notice his slip, though; her attention was all preoccupied by her fear of the future. "I'll have to leave my home," she said wretchedly. "I - I won't know anyone there, and it will be a strange place… everything will be new, and I won't know what to say or how to act. I'll get everything wrong, people will think I'm stupid. How will I…?"

"Sakura, haven't you always wanted to go see other places, to leave Ceres and explore?" Syaoran urged her. "Think of it as an adventure! You won't just be reading about it in a book, you'll actually get to be there, see new places, meet new people! There are some wonderful things about Nihon, too, I promise."

She gave him a wobbly smile, but it soon slipped away. "I won't know anyone there," she said in a small voice. "I'll lose everyone I ever knew - everyone will be a stranger…"

"You won't be alone," he promised her. "You'll have Kurogane-san, after all; he knows you, and you like him a lot, don't you? And besides…" He took a deep breath. "You'll have me there, too."

"Really?" She looked at him with wide, watery eyes. "You'll be there?"

"Princess Sakura…" He swallowed. "I promise that wherever you go, I'll follow after you. You'll never be alone, because I'll be with you. I give you my word - that's an old samurai tradition, it's a promise that can't be broken. I'll be with you."

"No matter what?" Sakura whispered, her eyes shining.

He gave a jerky, definitive nod. "No matter what."

"I can't believe he just belted that out in front of everyone like that," Kurogane seethed, pacing back and forth like an agitated tiger. "That asshole! Every time I think there might be something worth redeeming in him, he goes and pulls something like this that gets him back on my shit list!"

"It was necessary, Kuro-tan," Fai said wearily, leaning against the wall in the niche of the window seat. "An affair as important as the succession of the throne isn't something that can be handled in private. Everyone has to know, it has to be absolutely public and as clear as possible."

"Don't you fucking defend him," Kurogane snapped, wheeling to face him. "Not after what he said. He insulted you, called you tainted and unfit in front of half the gawking lightweights in Ceres! Huh! As though a dirty bastard like him has got any right to call anyone else 'tainted'!"

"But it's true, isn't it?" Fai said, with a bitter, self-deprecating smile. "I'm not even fully human any more. Would you want a half-demon sitting on the throne to Nihon?"

"It's not up to me," Kurogane shot back, a little rattled by the question; on some level he knew Fai wasn't wrong, but he didn't want to admit it. "And I told you not to defend him!"

"Then stop ranting about it so I don't have to," Fai snapped, a flash of anger flaring in his golden eye. "I told you before, I don't want to talk about it! If that's all you're going to do, then I'd rather be alone."

Kurogane was taken aback. It was obvious that Fai was shaken and upset, and in no condition to be left alone right now. Belatedly he flushed as he realized that his own behavior was just upsetting Fai further, rather than offering any kind of support or comfort. "I'll shut up now," he mumbled, and walked over to seat himself on the window seat beside Fai. He took Fai's hand in his; it was very cold.

Fai smiled at him, a wan smile with real gratitude behind it. "Thanks," he said in a hushed voice. He sighed. "You know, I'm okay with it, really. I never asked to be heir to the crown; it was just something Ashura wanted of me. It's not like I ever wanted to be King of Ceres…"

Kurogane gave an abrupt, involuntary laugh at the thought of Fai being king of anything. The wizard glared at him, and he smothered it. "Sorry," he said. "Sorry, I just can't see it."

Fai sighed, then nodded wry agreement. "You, me, and every noble head of clan in Ceres," he said wryly. "Honestly, I don't think even Ashura seriously thought about the possibility of me taking the throne. It was just a way for him to bring the office of the heir under his control, without creating a possible rival who could challenge him for power. And he cemented his control by betrothing me to Sakura…" He trailed off, falling silent.

Kurogane cleared his throat. "Are you really okay with that, too?" he said gruffly. "The Princess, I mean."

Fai shook his head, bit his lip; his expression was haunted and guilty. "I love her, but I could never have been a husband to her," he said quietly. "I feel terrible saying it, but this… it's a relief."

Kurogane, on the other hand, didn't feel guilty at all. Fai was his, and he had no intention of sharing him, not even to a political marriage of convenience. "She'll get over it," he declared. "Prince Touya will be a good match for her. And it will seal the alliance between Ceres and Nihon like nothing else could."

"Yes, but it's hard on her," Fai sighed. "She's just a girl, you know, and she's never been out of her homeland before. I'm worried about what will happen if she has to go to Nihon, and leave all our protections behind. It's not safe, you know."

Kurogane bristled. "It's not like anyone at Edo would be so dishonorable as to -" he began.

"No, no," Fai interrupted, waving his hands hastily. "I don't mean danger from you or your countrymen - although it's better to be safe than sorry. I mean danger from… other sources." He frowned, looking away towards the window, as though seeking some invisible presence.

"Other sources?" Kurogane said. "You mean that 'shadowy power' that that dreamseer said was looking for her?" He frowned. "She'll be well-protected at court, you know. Tomoyo is a very powerful guardian. What else is there to worry about?"

Fai shook his head, declining to explain, much to Kurogane's irritation. He rose from the window seat, squeezing Kurogane's hand once more before regretfully pulling away. "I'm going to go check on her," he said. "I'm sure she's upset, and needs some comfort right now. I'll find you again later."

Kurogane thought that Fai needed some comfort too, but if he wanted to seek it with his little sister instead of with him, then that was his right. "Fine," he said. "I'm going to find Syaoran and fill him in. God knows what kind of rumors he's picked up, wandering around the palace."

"I'd like to meet him at some point," Fai said with a smile. "You haven't told me much about him, but he must be something special, for Kuro-teacher to decide he's worthy to become your student."

"He's not bad," Kurogane allowed, a small smile tugging at his lips as he thought of his student's prowess. That smile soon faded, though. "I don't know if he's ready to meet you just yet, though. I wanted to give him some time to acclimate, get used to the country. He's… his father was killed by Ceres, you know. He blamed the whole country, but especially the wizards. I've been trying to get him to get over it, but it's a hard thing to let go, that kind of pain and hate."

"I'm sorry." Fai's smile faded, and a look of sadness came over his face. "I understand, it must be difficult. The war ended far too many promising lives."

Before he could correct Fai of his misapprehension as to when and how Syaoran's father had died, Fai rose from his seat. "I must see Sakura-chan now," he announced. "I'll find you later, Kuro-woof. Be a good doggy until I get back, okay?"

"I'm not a dog, don't call me that!" Kurogane snarled, instantly distracted from the discussion of his pupil. Fai only laughed, the sound floating behind him as he passed out of the room; and Kurogane shook his head, heartened that Fai was feeling enough better that his laugh at least sounded real.

Syaoran came slowly down the stairs, lost in thought. Sakura had said she wanted to be alone for a little while, so he respected her wishes, although it was hard for him; he yearned to be in her presence, see her face and listen to her laughter, like a sunflower reaches for the sun.

What was he going to do? He'd meant what he said to Sakura, about staying with her no matter what. No force on earth could make him break that promise, but how was he going to accomplish it? Sakura was engaged to be married to Prince Touya, a thought that made his chest and stomach hurt when he thought too hard about it. They could both go back to Nihon together, but then she'd go to Shirasagi Castle, and disappear into the royal quarters where commoners couldn't follow. How could he keep his promise to stay by her side then? He didn't think Prince Touya would be happy about Syaoran spending too much time with Sakura-chan.

Perhaps he could become a bodyguard at the palace, Sakura's bodyguard. She would need a faithful protector. He was still a little young, but he knew his teacher was the best. If he asked his master, maybe Kurogane could sponsor him into a position at the palace? Maybe… He descended the steps slowly, lost in daydreams.

A sharp noise from in front of him drew him out of his thoughts, and he blinked and glanced down to see another man at the foot of the stairs, staring up at him. He was pale, with light blond hair, and an elaborately decorated patch over his eye; his ceremonial robes, white trimmed with blue, were elegantly decorated with silver embroidery, jewelry, and marks of office. Syaoran's eyes widened as he took in the meaning of the rank insignia, and realized who the man was: this was the First Senior Wizard of Ceres!

All the thoughts and emotions that had been pushed aside in the last few days by thoughts of Sakura suddenly came rushing back. This was one of the evil Wizards, the men who had unjustly imprisoned and killed his father! He was assaulted with a complex mix of emotions: anger and hatred, fear and worry. But if this was the First Senior Wizard, then he must also be Fai Flowright; the man his teacher was so obsessed with, and the man that Sakura-chan had insisted was a good person, a kind and gentle person. How could he possibly be?

Before he had time to sort out his conflicting thoughts, the man quickly mounted the steps between them. His look of shocked recognition was almost a mirror of Syaoran's, and there was kind of a dawning horror in his face as he stared up at Syaoran. "Who let you in here?" he demanded in a hoarse, terrible voice.

"I -" he started to say, a little stunned by the force of the stranger's reaction to him. "I was just seeing Sakura, I didn't do anything to her, I -"

The wizard ignored his stammered answer, vaulting up the final step and seizing Syaoran by the shoulders, his shocked gaze traveling quickly over Syaoran's clothes, his hands, and back to his face. "How did you get past the wards?"

Syaoran didn't even have time to answer, though, before the wizard suddenly reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing his face to the side, and impatiently brushing his bangs away from his eye. His left eye, the blind one, the one that had been silver and sightless for as long as Syaoran could remember. Syaoran felt a heat wash over his face that had nothing to do with anger or embarrassment, a tingling sensation that originated from his temple and washed rapidly outwards in waves.

"Who are you?" Fai croaked, and Syaoran realized that the wizard was not talking to him at all.

Too late.

They both heard the words, although neither of them had spoken.

A loud crack echoed from somewhere below their feet, a sound like an explosion, or shattering stone. They both felt a brief tremor run through the floor, the walls shivered; then there was a sudden sharp, wrenching sensation like a fast wind rushing past them in the narrow stone corridor. A moment later, the screams started.

"The King! The King" they heard shouting from somewhere below them. "We're under attack! Protect the King!"

"Under attack? By who?" Syaoran cried in bewilderment. The wizard shook his head, released him suddenly and sent him stumbling back. He gave him one brief, flensing look of fury, and then he was brushing past him in the corridor, sprinting back down the stairways to the audience chamber.

"Sakura!" Syaoran cried out suddenly. If there was an attack, she would be in danger too. And if all the guards were running to protect King Ashura, then who would protect her?

He turned and ran the other way, up the steep staircase to the Princess's chambers.

Chapter Text

Abandoned by Fai, Kurogane went back to the guest chamber he'd been assigned when he arrived; he knew the way without help, since it was the same room as when he'd been a prisoner of war the last winter. He didn't have fond memories of this room; he much preferred Fai's.

Syaoran was not there, which annoyed Kurogane; although he admitted guiltily to himself that he had pretty much abandoned the kid since arriving at Ceres. He hadn't meant to, but other things had been more pressing - first Fai's health, then the audience with the King, petitioning for peace in Amaterasu's name. Syaoran was a big boy, and had doubtless found some other way to amuse himself… but he had no idea where to find the kid now.

Not feeling much inclined to sit in the bare chamber and wait, Kurogane set out to look for his charge. He wasn't entirely sure where to search; his knowledge of the palace was spotty. There were many rooms and hallways, and some entire wings that he had never been allowed to see before. He decided he'd at least try the public areas first, before he collared some passing servant to help him.

As he was coming through the front gallery, a wide open space with many cross-corridors turning off, he heard the first screams. He slowed and stopped, dropping into a defensive crouch as he looked around for the source of the voices.

They came from the end of the hall, the broad closed double doors where Ashura had retired with his council. A feeling of foreboding came over him, and he strode towards the door, then stopped, wavering uncertainly. Even if something was wrong, was it his place to do something about it? Ceres had its own guards, didn't they? They probably wouldn't take kindly to him charging with a drawn sword into what could just be a traditional Ceres-style shouting debate…

The next noise to rock the glittering gallery was an explosion, and Kurogane ran forward, drawing Souhi from her sheath before he could entertain any more second thoughts.

The door was locked, barred from the inside. Kurogane slammed his fist against the wood panels in frustration. He could hear the unmistakable sounds of battle from within, the scrape and clash of steel, and the raw, visceral screams of the dying. No argument or casual brawl could produce sounds like that.

"What the hell is going on?" Now the guards were arriving; Kurogane turned his head to see a pair of them running full pelt out of some cross corridor. The lead of the pair tried the door, then cursed as he made the same discovery Kurogane had.

"There's some kind of fighting going on in there!" Kurogane said, frustrated. He hated repeating the obvious, but he didn't have any more light to shed on the subject.

"We're under attack!" the second guard cried out, his panicked voice ringing across the chamber and echoing in the hallways. "Protect the king!"

"But who is it? How could they have gotten in here?" the first guard exclaimed. "There's been no intruders at the gates! How could they have gotten in through all the defenses and guards and wards, to strike directly at the heart…?"

An image flashed in Kurogane's mind, so stark and sudden that it shadowed his vision of the real world. An ancestral shrine, a woman in miko robes; a hole in the world, an arm extending a sword. Blood and fire and searing magics. He reached through all our wards and defenses like they were nothing…

To hell with this, he was not going to be locked out of whatever the fuck was going on in there. He dropped into a stance and readied his ki. "Get back," he growled, and the conviction in his voice drove the startled guards to step back. "Senryuu hikogen!"

The door blasted apart, and Kurogane stepped forward into a scene from nightmare.
Fresh, bright blood covered the enameled floor, spattered the walls in wide arc. Bodies lay huddled in piles on the floor, violently hacked and mutilated, not all of them whole. Kurogane's gorge rose as he scanned the scene, and he gripped his sword at the ready, looking around for enemies.

The only man left alive in the grisly scene was Ashura. He stood, serene and smiling, at the center of the bloody spatters. Bright gore stained the hem of his robe, and his own drawn sword; in his left hand he held a severed arm, dripping steadily onto the tiles. Kurogane's head jerked back as an overpowering reek washed over him; from the burning sensation in his head, it took him a moment to identify the sensation as magic, not a physical smell at all.

"What the hell is this?" Kurogane growled, his mind spinning. Had there been some kind of attempted coup? Had Ashura planned all this, arranged this meeting with the nobles just so that he could eliminate the greatest threats to his control all in one swoop? He wouldn't put it past Ashura to do something so ruthless… but a political motive didn't quite add up. Not with the throbbing stink of magic still filling the room, and Ashura's eyes…

"Y-your majesty?" one of the guards who had followed him in stuttered in a shocked voice. "What - what happened? Were you injured?"

Ashura turned to him and smiled, and what was in his eyes made Kurogane take a step back. Cautiously, the guard approached him, reaching out as though to offer his monarch assistance. Without a change of expression, he raised his arm and lopped off the guard's head in a single blow. Blood fountained as the body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, and Ashura turned next to them.

The dead guard's partner cried out in horror, and turned to flee; but before he could take two steps, Ashura raised a hand and crooked his fingers. An invisible force rushed across the room and slammed the man to the floor. As the unseen hand began to pull him across the blood-slick floor towards the mad king, he screamed in terror; then that scream was cut off abruptly as the great blade swept around again.

"What the fuck," Kurogane said in a shaken voice, unable to find any greater words to express his shock and horror as the guard toppled in two pieces to the bloody floor. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you crazy bastard!"

"My power grows with each person I kill," Ashura explained in a calm, conversational voice. "I must go out and find more people to kill, so that it will increase even more. Soon, I will be invincible."

"You're mad as a rabid dog - keep your crazy reasons to yourself," Kurogane growled. "I don't know what happened to you and I don't care, but you'll have to get past me first!"

Ashura's calm expression and serene smile did not change; without any warning, he leapt forward, and his sword clashed with Kurogane's.

Kurogane had fought Ashura once before, a duel in which he'd beaten Kurogane handily with his magical powers. Kurogane had never tried to challenge him again, knowing that he could not best a sorcerer-knight - but this was no duel of courtesy. This was a fight to the death, his own death as well as Gods knew how many others; and his only advantage this time was that he knew not to underestimate Ashura.

Steel rang out as the two warriors fought their way across the abattoir; Kurogane called on all his skill, but could just barely stay ahead of Ashura's hungry blade. Forced steadily backwards, his foot came down on the long blood-slick hair of a dead woman, and he felt his footing give underneath him. The king's sword changed its angle, cutting in to the side to take advantage of the opening - he leapt clear of the blade, twisting in mid-air to unleash a blast of fire towards his opponent. "Hama ryu-ou jin!"

Ashura spun his off-hand up to block it; his clenched fist glowed with a blue light, and the fire parted and flowed around him, leaving him unharmed. Kurogane unleashed another blast, this time not waiting for it to connect before he charged in again.

Their blades locked, pitting strength against strength; and suddenly Kurogane felt the momentum shift to his advantage, as the image of Ashura's sword flashed in his mind and he realized something about its design that he never had before. Quickly he slid his blade down to lock hilts with the decorated quillions of Ashura's pommel; with a twist and a heave of his arms, strength more accustomed to fighting demons than men, he ripped the sword out of Ashura's grasp and sent it flying across the room. Lunging forward he grabbed the sable ruff of Ashura's robe in one hand, bringing Souhi's blade up to press against his neck.

"Yield, or die!" he snarled, and he heard the gasps and frightened screams of voices from the doorway behind him - but he had no time to turn or look at them, or even wonder how this must appear to others. "I told you before that I won't hesitate, Ashura!"

"Good," Ashura said, the tone of his voice unchanged from that eerily flat, conversational tone. "Such powerful conviction in those fierce eyes… I like it."

Ashura raised his hand, and too late Kurogane realized his mistake in not killing the man immediately - even disarmed, Ashura was never helpless.

Tight bands of crushing, invisible force wrapped around Kurogane, and his sword dropped helplessly away from Ashura's neck as his arms were forced tight to his sides. He dimly felt his feet leave the ground as he was lifted into the air by the squeezing hand; he could not breathe against the pressure, and dizzy spots began to swim in his eyes as his lungs strained.

Kurogane choked, air forced from his lungs in a wheezing grunt as the invisible bands wrapped tighter; his fingers twitched helplessly on the hilt of his sword, and the world began to waver in his vision. This time, he knew, Ashura would not be content with his defeat and humiliation. He was going to die. Ashura was going to crush him into a bloody pulp, and then he'd go on to calmly slaughter his way through the rest of the palace until somebody was able to stop him. If anyone could stop him.

What would happen to Fai if he died...?

He had to fight this, he could not let this happen. He had to fight back, but how could he fight against magic? He cursed in bitter rage that he had never been able to finish magical training with Fai; Fai had always told him that he had magic, strong magic of his own, but what use was a weapon that you did not know how to wield?

The chamber was almost completely dark around him now, and he could feel his bones and flesh creak with unbearable agony as the crushing force became stronger. He could feel the king's magic, now, with a sightless sixth sense; feel it like bands of cloth wrapping tight about him. With the last of his consciousness, he clutched at his fragments of memory: what Fai had told him about magic. What Fai had told him… that he could use magic, in his own way, in the context of swordfighting. He had the power; he knew he did, if he could only find some way…

He remembered another darkness, another pain, collapsed helplessly in Seishirou's dungeon and half-dead from loss of blood. Fai had caught him, and Fai had taken Kurogane's own magic to break the magical bonds that fettered him. Fai had used Chiryuu enbu, the dragon circle dance, an outward-facing spiral of energy to counter the inwards circle of binding…

There was no room to swing, and he had no air to speak. But Fai had always told him that he didn't need such things, not really - they were only crutches. He reached deep inside himself, into the center of his being where he gathered his ki for his attacks, and ripped out a howling blast of pure, unrefined energy, directing it to a growing outwards spiral that increased in force with every cycle.

The invisible bands ripped and shredded away, and Ashura cried out as the force of the recoil lashed him, and the widening spiral of the chi ryuu en bu sent him staggering backwards. Kurogane dropped to the ground and fell to his knees, heaving huge gulps of air as the blood pulsed and thundered in his head, his vision swimming and nausea churning in his gut.

Ashura recovered first, and sent another furling blast of force at him; Kurogane hastily gathered his ki and knocked it aside with barely a conscious thought as to how he did it. It was like wielding a sword without the sword, it was like a part of his body that he'd never realized he owned before. With great difficulty, he staggered to his feet, forced himself to stand firm on his shaking limbs and face the king again.

"Not so easy, Your Majesty," he growled; his voice felt like grinding rocks in his throat. "Let's finish this."

Ashura's calm demeanor was broken at last; his face was distorted by inhuman, insane rage as he lashed out at Kurogane again. The warrior barely deflected each blast of magic with the same barely-realized, unconscious defense, but he knew he was hurt - and Ashura would not be brought down short of death.

"Stop!" a voice cried out from behind them, and despite all his discipline, Kurogane's attention was jerked around by that voice. Fai was standing in the doorway, his arms outstretched; streamers of blue light spooled from his fingers, and he was chanting a long, breathless stream of words that Kurogane could not understand.

The spell rushed by him, and he staggered in the wake of its power even though it was not meant for him. He managed a few steps to get out of its path before his knees gave out, and he half-fell ungracefully on his ass, fascinated by the picture before him.

Bright blue-white strands of magic - each one an endless whispering stream of rune words - wrapped around Ashura. For a moment he struggled against them, an inhuman snarl fixing his face and his hands like claws ripping the air; then his face and his hands relaxed, and the tension slowly drained from his limbs. His eyes slipped closed, and he sank to the floor with an expression of peaceful slumber.

Fai moved forward and knelt next to Ashura's prone form, still muttering the litany of words. Tendrils of blue light obeyed him, flowing from his hands to coil about Ashura's prone form until he appeared to be wrapped in a cocoon of glittering light. Only then did Fai's voice falter and fall silent, his hands dropping to his sides.

"What," Kurogane was still getting his breath back. "What just happened here?"

Fai didn't answer at once; he laid his hand on Ashura's chest, then his throat, then his forehead. Then he shifted and splayed both palms on Ashura's face, fingers wrapping around his temples, his eyes closed in concentration. "It's a curse," he said, his voice distant and thin. "It's destroying his mind."

"What? What curse? From where?" Kurogane asked, bewildered. Then his brain caught up with the flash of insight he'd had before all this began, and he grabbed at Fai's sleeve. "Is it -"

Their eyes met, and he knew they were sharing the same thought; of Seishirou's mysterious master, the unknown warlock whose portals could cut through space.

Running footsteps sounded through the hall, as more relief guards finally began to pour in. Kurogane rose to his feet, pinning the closest of them with a glare. "Hey, you!" he bellowed. "We need some help over here! Who's in charge?"

"Assassin!" the guard cried out, skidding to a halt and planting his halbard against the floor, aiming it white-knuckled against Kurogane. Several others formed up behind him, taking a wary but determined stance around them. "You murdered our king - our lords! A coward's attack - "

Kurogane bit his tongue on a curse; he hadn't stopped to think just how bad this would look, standing over the fallen body of their king in the middle of a scene of slaughter, sword still in hand. "I did not attack anyone," he snapped, flipping his blade over and raiding it carefully with the dull side forward. "See - my sword is clean. This blood was spilled by the blade of your king. He attacked the others in a blind rage; I only sought to defend myself. The wizard was a witness."

The guard took a step back, the point of the spear rising. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, and Kurogane saw with some frustration as his train of thought shifted from 'How did this outsider cause this disaster,' to 'How much can we blame the outsider for this disaster.' He snarled in exasperation.

"There's no time for this," Fai said unsteadily. He knelt at the king's head, the hem of his robe soaking in blood, blue light still leaking continuously from his fingertips. "The king's condition is worsening with every minute. I can barely hold the curse back. I need the healers to help me - I need Hisoka, and Yukito, and Kazahaya - he's still not back in the palace, is he? Then Kakei -"

The guards seemed to recover their composure now that they were given something to do, and several of them raced off, hopefully to find the requested healers and bring them back. Although if anyone in the palace wasn't already coming to see what the commotion was about, they must be deaf or comatose.

Yukito arrived on the scene shortly after, breathless and shocked deathly pale. Behind him came the short wizard with the ginger hair and green eyes that Kurogane had met several times, and a taller, composed-looking man that Kurogane didn't know. They ignored him completely, falling into a diamond pattern around their fallen king with Fai at the first point. Their voices mixed with his in a long-complicated sounding invocation, and the blue light gained in brightness and strength.

Other men were arriving on the wreckage of the scene, beginning to pick their way around to the other bodies and checking for signs of life. Kurogane considered moving to help, but if he were needed anywhere, it would probably be here in case Ashura broke loose of his restraints and continued his murderous rampage.

All the Ceresians seemed to be in a state of stunned shock, and he couldn't blame them; in an hour of bloody carnage, everything they knew had been blown into pieces. The military men moved with stiff, wooden postures, and he saw some of the serving women huddled into a corner, clinging to each other and sobbing. He stood among them all, feeling helpless and useless, and as though he were somehow at fault for this catastrophe.

He was the first to look up when another set of running footsteps approached, and tensed when he saw who it was. Syaoran burst into the room, breathless and panting and with tears streaking his face. "Kid?" he called out gruffly, striding towards the hallway doors. "Where have you been? This isn't a safe place to come in right now. Go up to the rooms -"

"She's gone!" Syaoran shouted, his words ringing loudly around the chamber. "She's gone missing, and where were all of you? Damn you! Why wasn't anybody there to help her?"

"What's going on?" Kurogane demanded, as figures began to gather around them. "Who's gone?"

"Princess Sakura!" Syaoran cried, and he swiped angrily at his tear-streaked cheek with his sleeve. "I couldn't get there in time, I couldn't stop him! Why wasn't anybody else looking after her? He came right into rooms, right out of nowhere, through a tear in the world and he took her!"

"Someone kidnapped the princess?" Kurogane repeated in disbelief. He grabbed Syaoran's shoulder, squeezing tightly and giving him a little shake to calm his near hysteria. "Who? Who was it? What did he look like?"

"I don't know! I didn't see all of him," Syaoran said in frustration, staggering and grabbing Kurogane's arm for balance. "Just a, a, silhouette, and part of an arm and sleeve. I'm sure it was a man, dressed in a long black robe, with some sort of black and gold symbol -"

"It's the same thing," Fai interrupted from behind them, and Kurogane turned around to see him looking up at them. The expression of dead calmness on his face was somehow more evocative of grief than all Syaoran's frustrated tears. "This, all this was just a distraction. It was meant to draw us away, leave her undefended while he made his move."

"And you fell for it!" Syaoran cried accusingly.

"Yes," Fai said still in that dead-calm voice. "And now he has her."

Sakura awoke feeling chilled and disoriented, with a vague unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. As she shifted position, she realized she was lying on a hard, cold surface; shivering, she pushed herself up and rubbed her hands over her arms.

What had happened? She remembered this morning's Proclamations, the terrible shock of her father's betrayal. She remembered fleeing to her rooms, and Syaoran coming and doing his best to cheer her up. She'd asked to be alone for a little while, exhausted from her emotional outburst; she'd laid down on her bed and then... things got muzzy. She remembered a strange light seen out of the corner of her eye, a yellow-green haze that seemed to creep across her walls and rugs. Had that been a dream? Was this a dream?

She remembered the sound of running footsteps, and through the haze she thought she'd seen Syaoran's face, twisted by fear and anguish... for her. His hand, reached for her through the darkness... instinctively she'd reached back, but their hands had only brushed for an instant before an irresistible force sucked her backwards into the darkness.

What had happened? Where was she now? She was no longer in the palace, that much was certain; the heating spells kept the palace warmer than this, even in the coldest winter storms. Her light, gauzy clothes were not really suited for chilly temperatures, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

She was in a large, dimly lit, cool stone chamber. The walls and ceilings arched away into the darkness, giving the impression of vast space; light from flickering sconces set along the walls did not really illuminate the whole space. The floor beneath her was smooth and hard, some kind of slate or stone tile, and an intricate mosaic pattern spiraled outwards from the center to the walls.

The centerpiece of the room was a massive black chair, stone like the walls and floor. She sat on a clear space between the front of the throne and, on her other side, a large stone ring covered with elaborate engravings. Magic, she realized with a chill, although she had no idea what they were for.

Sakura was beginning to be frightened; this wasn't a dream. She'd been kidnapped. But how? And by whom? Some dissident noble faction, hoping to use her as leverage against her father? She knew all of the court wizards well, and she knew they were loyal; she couldn't believe that any of them would lend themselves to a kidnapping plot. But who else could there be?

"Hello?" she called out, trying to keep the quaver of fear out of her voice. "I-is anyone there?"

Her voice rang in echoes off the high stone arches. For a long moment there was no answer; just before she was about to go looking for a way out, she heard the shuffling echo of footsteps coming her way.

A tall, imposing man stepped into view through an archway, carrying a lantern. The yellow light spilled illumination on elaborately embroidered robes that swept the floor, up his arm to a face made grave with a salt-and-pepper beard and deep, dark eyes.

"Welcome, Princess," the man said, his voice a gravelly dark rumble. "I hope that you have recovered from the shock of your abrupt translocation. It affects some people's stomachs that way, I understand. I apologize for any discomfort that you may have experienced."

"Who are you?" Sakura demanded, wavering between hope and fear as the man approached. He had an air of solemn dignity about him, a bearing of power that Sakura knew well from watching the great lords and kings of Ceres at work - except on this man it seemed to carry an air of weary melancholy, like a burden carried for years that was too heavy to put down. "Where is this?"

"My name is Fei Wong Reed," the grave man answered, stopping at the edge of the etched circle a few feet away from her. He extended his hand downwards towards her. The cuffs and shoulders of the sleeves bore a design in heavy gold embroidery; a golden circle set with black wings. "This is the chapel, a holy place from eras past. But not for many years. The world is consumed by misery and strife, and the petty men fight each other endlessly for hatred and greed. The time may soon come that it will be holy again, but that will depend, in part, on you."

"Me?" Sakura shrank back from his hand, tugging her sleeves nervously down her arms to combat the chill. "Wh-what do you need me for?" she stammered.

"Salvation," the man answered, as though it should be obvious. "Men's hearts are born into darkness; they need a guiding light to show them the path of wisdom and virtue. The Divine One, in her love and mercy, can save us all; but only if we can make our voices reach her. That is our task, the ultimate purpose of our long years of labor, and at last the culmination of the centuries is at hand. I have been waiting to meet you for a long, long time, Princess."

He still held out his hand towards her, patient in the face of her fearfulness. Looking up into his face, she got the sense from his steel-grey eyes that he could be patient for a very, very long time. Hesitantly, she reached up and placed her trembling fingers in his.

His grip closed about her hand, cool and sure and powerful, and he pulled her to her feet with a single smooth movement. "We are the heralds of the White God, Princess," Fei Wong Reed said; "and we need your help to save the world."

Chapter Text

Sakura, Sakura. His whole body cried out her name in fear and longing -- the sight of her hand passing through his, of her slim form disappearing into that cloud of darkness -- was burned into his vision. He'd nearly broken his neck coming down the stairs from Sakura's rooms, and even standing still his breath still rasped in his lungs and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Everywhere he'd looked the palace was in chaos, people scurrying around, but nowhere any sign of Princess Sakura; with hope fading and panic growing in his chest, he'd at last sought out the Wizards he so despised. If one magic user had snatched her away, then another one could bring her back, couldn't they? He had to get her back -- "You have to find her!" he burst out, looking beseechingly around the room at the white-robed figures there. "You have to do something!"
 
He barely registered the fallen body of the king, all his attention reserved for the pale-haired wizard kneeling beside him. A burst of anger washed through him at the sight of Fai Flowright -- the wizard had been right there, outside of Sakura's room, and he had abandoned her to go chasing after stupid Ashura. If only he had gone up the stairs instead of down, then he could have saved her.
 
If only Syaoran had moved a little faster, been able to grab her hand --  

The wizards were staring back at him with varying expressions of dawning realization and horror. The white-haired one with thick glasses fell back a step, expression closing down as he muttered arcane words under his breath. The other, a young man appearing no older than Syaoran himself, rounded on him with wide green eyes blazing with anger. "You!" he spat at Syaoran. Blue light began to bloom around his fingers as he traced words in the air. "So you're the one who intruded on our princess!" 
 
Who did this kid think he was, looking down on Syaoran for daring to be friends with Sakura? "At least I didn't stand by and do nothing!" Syaoran stood up, hands balling into fists, and met their angry gazes head-on with a glare of his own. He had no reason to be afraid of any Ceres wizards, not anymore; not when these stupid, perverted, unnatural idiots had allowed Sakura to be taken away.
 
"Hisoka," a voice cut across the young wizard's angry accusation. Fai Flowright moved quickly into the other wizard's path, reaching out to catch his arm and still his hand mid-motion.
 
The wizard turned to him in outrage, blue light sputtering and dying. "Why are you defending --"
 
Fai answered in a long, quick, softly-spoken stream of Ceresian that Syaoran couldn't understand. He stood between Syaoran and the other wizards, facing towards them, so that Syaoran could not see his face either; but at least the other wizards seemed to listen to him. Several times their glances darted from Fai, to him, and back again. Their expressions went from outraged, to shocked, to horrified, before smoothing into an impassive blankness. It couldn't be said that they relaxed, exactly, but at least they stopped trying to attack him.
 
"Kid." His teacher's low, taut voice cut across the argument, and Syaoran tore his gaze reluctantly away from the others to look up to meet Kurogane's narrow red glare. "This figure you saw -- how sure are you of what you saw? Did you see any identifying features, anything that might give a clue where they are now?"
 
"No, nothing! She's just gone!" Syaoran shook his head in frustration, and turned his angry impatience back onto the wizards. "Why aren’t you looking for her? She could be hurt, or scared, or, or dying for all you know! Don't you even care about your own princess?"
 
"Shut your mouth!" Hisoka shouted at him. Fai shot him a look that was full of warning, but he shrugged irritably as he continued to glare at Syaoran. "You don't know how we feel about the Princess. How could you? You're just a -- "
 
"Hisoka," Fai said in a low, tense voice; the wizard shut his mouth, visibly fulminating. But Syaoran would not be silenced.
 
"You don't know anything about how I feel, either," he said, unable to contain the feelings bursting inside him. If he let himself think about Sakura anger wavered into anxiety, a panic that almost threatened to choke him. To think that he would come all this way, come halfway across the world to find the one person who was the most special in the world, and then to have her snatched away -- it was too much to bear. "I love her! She's the most important person in the whole world -- the most beautiful, warm, and kind --"
 
"Syaoran," Kurogane muttered, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. "Go back to your rooms. This isn't the time or place for this."
 
Syaoran shook his teacher's hand off his arm, looking up at his teacher in accusing betrayal. "How can you take their side in all this?" Maybe his friends in Edo had been right all along, that the great Kurogane of Suwa had become nothing but a wizard's toy. "I --"
 
Kurogane grabbed Syaoran back and forced him around, fingers digging into his shoulders and pinning him under his glare. "Half a dozen people have just been killed here," he hissed in a vicious undertone. "And the King himself is injured, maybe dying. This -- is -- not -- the -- time for temper tantrums and melodramatic confessions of love, do you hear me? Get out of the way and let them do their damn jobs!"
 
Syaoran looked down, shaken and ashamed. But when the anger receded, the terrible fear took its place. "But the Princess is important, too," he said lamely. "Finding her should be their job, too!"
 
Fai rose to his feet to face him, his expression grave. "We have every intention of searching for the Princess," he said. "From what you say, she was taken from her room by means of a magical portal. We need to study the place where she was taken, learn from the magical residue. But it may take time, several days, and we have other --"
 
"That's not good enough!” Syaoran said passionately. "Several days before you even start to find where she is? That's too long!  If you won't go to find her, I will!" 
 
"You?" Hisoka said in utter scorn. "What are you going to do? You're just an ignorant little nihonjin, who doesn't even know himself."
 
"You can't stop me!" Syaoran shouted back.
 
"We can't stop him," Fai said. "Let him go if he wants to so much."
 
"But he --" Hisoka began incredulously. Fai turned his head to look at him, and snapped out a phrase in liquid Ceresian that made the man fall back, subdued and frustrated.
 
Syaoran glared at Fai. "And what about you?" he said scornfully. "If you loved Sakura at all, you'd search for her too!"
 
Fai turned back towards Syaoran. His face was closed and stony, impossible to read. "I cannot leave Ruval now," Fai said; his voice was strange, almost mechanical. "I can't leave Ashura's side during his illness. I must remain here."
 
"Fine! Sit here and rust, then!" Syaoran said, anger warring with a kind of vicious satisfaction. "I'm leaving."
 
"Good riddance," one of the other wizards muttered, just loud enough -- and in the right language -- for Syaoran to hear. Fai motioned the other wizards to silence again.
 
"Syaoran," Kurogane began, and the use of his name shocked Syaoran. When he looked at his teacher again he realized that the big man was limping, favoring his sword arm; he must have been injured in the fight with Ashura. He looked exhausted. "Look, kid, be reasonable. You don't have a chance of actually finding her. Wandering around at random in the wilderness is just going to get you killed."
 
"I can't do any worse than if I stay here and do nothing, can I?" Syaoran shot back. "Don't worry about me. I'm not a child any more, I can take care of myself. I won't die, not before I find Sakura and save her."
 
"Do you have any idea where to start looking?" Fai asked him, his golden eye watching Syaoran with a strange intensity.
 
"How should I have any idea, if you don't?" Syaoran shot back, not entirely truthfully. He did have an idea -- somehow -- of which way he needed to go, an almost subliminal tugging of a current under his skin. But he was not about to share that feeling with these clowns. "I'll find her. Just you wait and see. But I'm not going to be doing it for you."
 
He jerked around without waiting for a response, ignoring the voices raising in argumentative Ceresian behind his back. Let them argue, and dawdle, and waste away their time with useless magics. He walked quickly through the hallways, ignoring the guards who turned and called out to him, ducking under hands that reached for him. He broke into a run as he reached the stairs, boot heels pounding on the slate tiles in time with the furious thoughts raging in his head. Let  them -- He was going to find Sakura, when nobody else could. He was going to find her, and keep her safe. He was going to bring her home.
 
 
----------------------
 
 
They'd moved the fallen king into a side room, away from the blood-slicked floor of the conference chamber where everything had come crashing down. Fai now had three other mages helping him, but apart from him and two of the guards, no one else had been allowed to follow them. Kurogane wondered why he had, except that perhaps no one had quite dared to stand in his way. He still felt the urge to stay close at hand just in case Ashura woke up again, although that seemed less and less likely as time went on.
 
At first Ashura had thrashed and moaned in his strange, magical-induced slumber, hands curling to claws that slashed the air as though seeking to draw blood for it. Gradually, though, he'd quieted under the intense focus of the four wizards; they did not seem to be doing anything, speaking no words and drawing no symbols, but Kurogane felt the presence of magic like a thick perfume in the air.
 
"Hisoka," Fai said suddenly. His voice sounded strangely blurred, as though he were speaking underwater. "Stop. You're going to get pulled in."
 
The smaller wizard just hunched his shoulders and leaned forward even further, his eyes closed but his attention clearly on the comatose figure of his king before him. Fai shook his head, groggy like a sleeper waking up from a dream. "Hisoka! You can't help him if you get caught in it too. You're putting too much of yourself into the link. Break it now!"
 
Still no response. Fai ground his teeth in frustration, then whipped his head around. "Kurogane!"  he called.
 
Although he didn't say anything else, the force of his frustrated emotions lashed Kurogane into action. He understood that Fai could not move right now, could not break contact with Ashura; and he understood what Fai wanted him to do in his place. He strode forward and grabbed the young man by the shoulders, starting as he felt a cold shock go up his arms. He pulled the young wizard Hisoka backwards, breaking his hold on the King of Ceres, and a hoarse cry broke from the boy's throat as Kurogane dragged him away. "No!" he shouted, struggling in vain against Kurogane's sure grip. "No, you can't -- I have to save! He's hurting, I have to -- !"
 
"He's only trying to help you, kid," Kurogane said; the despair in Hisoka's voice and face put a lump in his throat. In some ways this young man reminded him of Syaoran, except that he didn't have the boy's sturdiness. He seemed like a hot temper poised on a thin wire, and as he wrenched his attention around to glare furiously at Kurogane, for a moment he thought the wizard would lash out at him.
 
Instead, all at once, the boy broke down, collapsing against Kurogane's arm like a marionette with his strings cut. "It's not fair," he said, his voice suffused and choked with frustration and misery. "It's not fair that I can't help, when he needs me. Why can't I…? After what he did for me…"
 
"Did for you?" Kurogane said cautiously, his attention arrested by that fragmented sentence. He kept on pulling Hisoka gradually away from the fallen king and his attendants; Fai and the other two had rearranged themselves in a triangle around Ashura, so intent on their work that they seemed worlds away.
 
Hisoka seemed to have collapsed on himself, silent tears streaming down his desolate face. "Ever since I was a child," he said in a hushed, choked voice, "I always see things I shouldn't. Hear things I shouldn't. I could hear, I could hear what people were really thinking. And they hated me for hearing. Monster, demon, unnatural... I don't know how to say...  They all thought so, and because… because I hear them hating me.… I thought they were right about me.
 
"They kept me, they locked me in the room with wooden bars and never let me out, fear that I'd hear something I wasn't supposed to hear. And I thought they right, they were right to fear and hate me. I hated myself too. There was no one, anyone… never no one who thought anything else… until the day Ashura came."
 
All his air ran out on that last breath, and Hisoka sank slowly down into a huddle on the floor, eyes closed and head bowed; Kurogane couldn't tell if he had passed out or what, but he was silent from then on. Kurogane stood away, shaken and uneasy; he glanced over at Ashura, only a sliver of his face visible beyond the frantically working mages, and then away.
 
He'd known for some time that Ashura had rescued Fai from terrible imprisonment as a child; that was at the root of why Fai adored him so, tore himself apart in an effort to please and satisfy his king and savior. He'd resented Ashura's manipulations, the way he blatantly relied on Fai's gratitude to control him; and deep down a part of Kurogane always suspected that Ashura had no more altruistic motive in saving Fai than convincing an impressionable young boy to serve him. Fai had certainly served him well enough, over the years, to repay any kindness.
 
It had never occurred to him -- outside of a few passing references in other conversations -- that the other Wizards of Ceres had been rescued from situations similar to Fai's, and that they would share a similar devotion to their king. It made sense, in a way, that children with frighteningly powerful magics might often find themselves abused, feared, outcast or locked up. Too often people feared powers they couldn't understand or control, and fear bred cruelty.
 
If Ashura had indeed spent thirty years combing the lands for such children and rescuing them, then it was no wonder they all looked at him with such reverence. Why they all held their loyalties and obeyed him, no matter how distasteful or disastrous his orders. Yukito's rebellion earlier that spring, when he rode to the defense of Nihon, must have been harder for them than Kurogane could possibly imagine. Kurogane, who had from the beginning regarded Ashura as a rival or an enemy outright, had never considered how very much they must love their king.
 
Across from him, Fai straightened his spine and hitched his shoulders with a deep gulp of air, as if surfacing after some long dive. "Enough," he said, and although his voice was hoarse, it didn't sound so far away any more. "We're walking on ice that breaks under our feet. More cracks appear even faster than we can seal them. Pull back."
 
Soft groans of defeat answered his statement, and the two wizards -- Yukito, and a tall broad-shouldered man with short sandy hair -- slumped backwards. "What can we do?" Yukito asked in a subdued voice.
 
"Work with me to put him in a deeper sleep for now," Fai said, exhaustion evident in his voice. "When all the others are here, we can make another attempt to lift the curse and heal his mind. In the meantime, the best we can hope to do is slow the damage as much as possible. There are too many other things we need to attend to now."
 
They bent over Ashura again, although a sense of weary defeat filled their postures. This time, whatever they were doing seemed more external; they muttered softly, and lines of light sprang from their fingertips, enveloping Ashura in a cocoon that looked like crystallized water.
 
Kurogane didn't follow all of that conversation, but the misery that Fai emanated told the story clearly enough. He saw the same shocked, numbed look of horror and grief on every face, and he felt somehow terribly responsible, even though he had been no more than a bystander in the tragedy that had played out a few hours ago. Still, he felt keenly that he should have been able to stop it somehow. Failure in his duties to guard and protect did not sit well on Kurogane's shoulders, and he wrestled with unaccustomed guilt at the feeling.
 
He felt a sense of loss, too, although in a different way. Ashura had seemed like a fixture of the universe, a cosmic force against which Kurogane had set himself. Although their rivalry had never been friendly, it was always respectful, each mindful of the other's strengths. But that was all gone, now that the clever, forceful, domineering King of Ceres was brought low. The Ashura he had loved to hate was simply not there any longer.
 
He ought, he realized with a dull surprise, to be happy; he'd finally fought Ashura and won. But once the rush of triumph at surviving a deadly battle had passed, Kurogane mostly just ached.
 
 
----------------------
 
 
Kurogane shadowed him as he entered the main hall, and Fai was grateful for his lover's support. He could still feel Kurogane's pain, a dull aching echo of his own, and the weary thought occurred to him that he really ought to round up Kakei to examine his wounds. Kurogane hadn't complained, and he was still upright and moving smoothly enough, but that could just be Kuro-tan's usual stubbornness in the face of injury. There was no reasoning with him once he got like this…
 
He stared around the chamber, his mind a momentary blank as he was between tasks --  giving up on Ashura for now, unsure what to do next. All of the bodies had been removed to some other room, to be laid out in some more dignified repose than their death had granted them. A group of guards and servants were laboring now to clean the blood and gore off the stone floor. In the corner near the fireplace, a handful of other wizards were hard at work marking off a section of the floor and constructing a divining apparatus there. Fai well recognized the device, having used a similar, more portable version of it to survey the wards of Nihon on that fateful mission last fall.
 
"What are they doing?" Kurogane asked, following his gaze over to that corner of the room. His red eyes narrowed, and his muscles tense. "That smell…"
 
Fai gave him a tired smile. "Not really so much a smell," he said. "All magical expressions leave behind traces -- like tracks, or like ripples in the water. With any luck, we'll be able to use it to divine the source of the portal that was cast into the other room."
 
"So you can find him? We could trace him?" Kurogane said, anticipation electrifying his voice.
 
Fai sighed, then shook his head slightly. "I don't know," he said, trying to keep the defeat from bleeding into his voice. "I hope so, but… we're all children, you know, when it comes to conjuration. Our enemy is a master. I doubt he will have been careless enough to leave any trail that we can follow. And as for the other spell he used…" Fai frowned, thoughts catching on that second question. How had he realized, so quickly on touching Ashura, that the chaos inside his mind was caused by a curse? Why had it seemed somehow familiar to him, that degenerative pattern of madness and bloodthirst? Where had he encountered something like that before…?
 
"You!" a voice shouted with purest loathing, and Fai jerked out of his stupefied trance see someone striding towards them. Or rather, towards Kurogane, as he barely gave Fai a side-glance.
 
 The newcomer was a man that Fai recognized after a moment's pause as Tennou Adamite, Lord Taishakuten's eldest son. He was tall for a Ceresian -- although not as tall as Kurogane, of course -- and sandy-haired. His normally pleasant and open features were distorted now by grief and rage. "You did this!" he shouted, voice full of frustrated fury. "You killed my father -- attacked our king!"
 
"I did not," Kurogane said stonily, his eyes narrowed to slits.
 
"You liar! Half a dozen servants saw you attacking the king," the lordling shot back. "You must have murdered Lord Taishakuten -- Lady Kisshouten, my aunt --"
 
"By the time I got here, he was already dead," Kurogane denied. "I fought Ashura, yes, but only in self-defense. He attacked me."
 
Tennou's face twisted in a sneer. "Our most beloved lords dead, my father dead, hacked into pieces, and our king struck low -- and their murderer walks free! Why are we allowing this outrage to stand? Guards! Seize him at once!" he shouted.
 
He looked around, futilely seeking support; there was some shuffling, but no one stepped forward in response to his demand. Tennou bared his teeth in a snarl. "If no one else has the guts to do it, I'll challenge him myself!" He threw back his ornate, fur-lined cloak, and his hand went to the richly jeweled sword hilt at his side.
 
Kurogane stood up to his full height, and Tennou paled and took a step back. Fai recalled now that Taishakuten's heir was considered easy-going, but also something of a wimp, especially when compared with his father. "I bear no ill-will against anyone in Ceres, and I swear that I have not raised a hand to anyone here except in self-defense," he said, in a calm voice that nonetheless carried over the whole chamber. "But if you come at me with steel bared, then I will respond in kind."
 
"Lord Tennou, we don't know that he is the culprit," one of the guards protested nervously, hovering right on the edge of getting between them. "There were no witnesses except His Majesty himself -- by the time anyone got here everyone was dead, and the two of them were dueling. And his sword is clean of blood -- so there's no evidence… " 

Tennou actually stamped his foot in impatience, handsome face flushed with an ugly rage. "Of course he cleaned it before anyone could take the evidence! You're not seriously suggesting that our own king would turn on his own clan lords? What a ridiculous idea!" he shouted. "The true murderer is obvious! Here he stands at the scene of the slaughter, sword still blatantly in hand! What more evidence do we need?"
 
"Enough of this!" Fai snapped, spinning around to glare ferociously at the young intruder. "This is not some rustic country court or mountain tribunal. We have no need to rely on speculation or circumstantial evidence. King Ashura is in no state to testify -- his mind and memories are unraveling even as we sit here talking. But there is still a witness to the events of this last hour -- the Nihon delegate himself."
 
"You would trust his word?" Tennou sputtered in outrage. "He'll lie! Of course he'll lie! It will take force to make him speak the truth!"
 
"Such primitive and brutal methods are not necessary," a second voice put in coolly from the side, before Fai could respond to this. Yukito stepped forward, his face a grim mask; at this time the albino's features were no more white and bloodless than anyone else in this room. "He cannot lie to magic."
 
Yukito and Fai exchanged a long, grave look; then Fai nodded slightly in Kurogane's directions, then turned away. Fai was Kurogane's lover, and everyone in the palace knew it. Fai could not be in charge of this questioning; even if he used magic to confirm his reports, he would always be suspected of lying or cheating to protect Kurogane. Yukito was a neutral third party, and he at least would be trusted.
 
"Lord Suwa," Yukito said in a loud, formal voice, "I need to touch your mind, to show everyone here your memories of the last hour's events. I apologize for the intrusion, but we must be able to see what really happened."
 
"Why are you asking permission? I've got nothing to hide," Kurogane shot back in an equally loud voice, aiming his words at the crowd of onlookers. Yukito nodded gravely, and reached up -- almost on tiptoes to match Kurogane's height -- to press his fingers against Kurogane's temples. As Yukito's power unfurled -- sensed rather than seen, an invisible force bridging the distance between them -- Fai reached out his own in response, preparing to relay and amplify the vision so that all present in the room could view it.
 
There was a moment of distorting vertigo, where the world seemed to race around him. Then he saw, dim and remote and slightly foggy, the entrance hallway outside the chamber. He heard a distant, far-off scream; the vision blurred for a moment and then resolved itself by the two doomed guards pounding urgently on the wooden panel doors. Kurogane's voice roared, an odd tinny rumble in the memory, and the watchers gasped as his sword swung around to unleash a blast of energy at the locked doors.
 
When the chamber door blew apart, Fai was startled by the surge of emotions accompanying the image. Shock and disbelief, disgust and pity and horror ran over him like a wave, rippling outwards through his audience. When the first guard approached the mad king Fai wanted to close his eyes, to block out what he knew was about to happen, but he could not. He felt Kurogane's grief for them atop his own, strangers whose names he'd never even known -- but he still grieved for their deaths, two more ordinary men who had faced combat beside him and not come out alive.
 
Watching the duel with Ashura was not as painful as Fai had thought it would be -- it all happened too fast, and at least he already knew that both men had survived. But when Yukito broke the contact and stepped back, the images dissolved into colorful blobs before clearing from his vision, he was gray and shaking. Similar looks of daunted dismay echoed on the faces of the other wizards who'd shared the vision, while the non-magical members of the audience mostly just looked confused and overwhelmed.
 
"You have all witnessed," Yukito said in an unsteady voice. "These are the events of the last hour as Lord Suwa saw them."
 
"These memories also corroborate with the fragments we were able to recover from Lord Ashura," said Aoki, one of the three who had been helping Fai tend to Ashura. "It seems confirmed beyond reasonable doubt."
 
"Let's put this matter to rest, then. Lord Suwa is cleared of all suspicion," Yukito said. "He arrived at the scene of the crime after the deaths had already taken place, and fought His Majesty only in self defense."
 
"This is ridiculous!" burst out Tennou, his voice incredulous and scornful. "All we've seen has been some pretty light show! Nothing has been proven at all!"
 
"It's been proven to our satisfaction," Yukito said through gritted teeth. "The satisfaction of the Wizards of Ceres."
 
"And what is your satisfaction worth?" the young lord demanded, stepping forward with his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. "Everyone knows that the Wizards serve their own aims above anyone else's -- not even the kingdom's, not even the King's! My father was always suspicious of your motives, your refusal to submit yourselves to the proper authorities. Why should I trust your word on anything? How do I know that you weren't all in on it -- that you weren't part of the plot to eliminate your rivals for power in the first place?"
 
A babble of angry shouting rose up around the room, and several of the guards surged forward -- whether in protest of Tennou's actions, or in support of them, Fai could not tell. But this disturbance had gone far enough. Fai stepped forward, radiating every ounce of authority he could muster; the clamor of voices abruptly hushed, and Tennou faltered. 
 
"Lord Tennou, you are understandably upset over the tragedy that your clan has suffered," Fai said in a clipped voice. "But we are all in the middle of a crisis here. If you have nothing better to offer than wild accusations and hysterical rantings, you may remove yourself." 

 Tennou quailed in the face of his authority, but then seemed to gather himself for a second wind. "You have no right to send me anywhere, wizard!" he shot back defiantly. "As the last -- as the last -- as the most senior remaining representative of the noble clans of Ceres, I have every right to call for justice. What possible authority do you have to deny me?"
 
"Well, among other things," cut in a new voice, dry and paper-thin. An old man, wrinkled and white-haired, stepped into the discussion; Minister Galladon, the highest ranked official of the administrative branch of Ceres, charged with the day-to-day tasks that kept the government running. None of the ministers had been present in the disastrous meeting with the lords of Ceres, and so their legislative body had escaped mostly unscathed. "With Princess Sakura missing, he is the only acknowledged heir to the throne of Ceres."
 
This statement prompted another outcry of tumult; Fai felt Kurogane's gaze boring into him like a hot iron. He grimaced and raised one hand to rub at the rising headache in his temple; he ought to have foreseen this.
 
"But he was revoked by Ashura, in full view of the court!" someone else shouted. "Minister Galladon, you can't be serious!"
 
"A technicality," the old Minister answered. "It was proclaimed, but it was never written into law, and until the King signs it, no legal change has been instituted."
 
"Minister, this is quite premature," Fai said loudly, overriding the next round of protests. "I can assure you that King Ashura is not dead, and neither is his heir, Princess Sakura. There's no need…"
 
"There is every need," Galladon interrupted him, his expression irritated. "Alive or dead, the Princess is not here; nor would she be suited to taking on the burden of authority even if she were. We must have a strong, legitimate authority to take command of Ruval in the midst of this crisis. To deal with further assassination attempts, or," and his aged, rheumy blue eyes turned without favor towards Kurogane, "renewed trouble from our nearest neighbors, should they learn of this turn of events."
 
Kurogane glowered, but said nothing to actively refute the Minister's point; from the grimace twisting his mouth, he was thinking much the same thing. No treaty had yet been signed with Nihon either; nor would it be, with their goodwill offering gone missing. If Amaterasu learned of the events of today -- that the fearsome King of Ceres had been struck down -- a renewed attack from Nihon was almost a guarantee.
 
The minister turned back to Fai and continued. "Can you tell me, Wizard, when will His Majesty be fit to resume command?"
 
Fai opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. He hesitated, looking to Yukito and Aoki for support; but neither of them seemed willing to speak, either. "It's too early yet to say," he hazarded.
 
Galladon was watching his face closely, and did not miss a minute of this byplay. "Say this, then: will he be recovered by tomorrow, or the next day?"
 
"No." Fai shook his head, echoed grimly by the other two.
 
Galladon nodded in satisfaction. "Then we must convene a council, with at least a quorum enough to make binding decisions, in order to determine who will take command during this emergency." He glanced over at Tennou without favor. "Lord Tennou, you may of course attend, and present your case during the council, along with whatever witnesses you choose to accompany you."
 
Fai's breath hissed between his teeth, grinding his jaw as he thought about all the delays this would inevitably entail. There were so many other things to be done, and Sakura -- at the same time, he knew that Galladon was right. Ceres would need a leader during the upcoming crisis, somebody who both knew what had to be done and had the authority to do it. And in order to legitimize that authority, there was going to have to be some kind of council to ratify it. "I understand, Minister," he said, doing his best to keep his voice civil. "But can this wait? We still need to take His Majesty to his chambers and ensure that he is safe there, and the missing princess takes priority over everything else…"
 
"I didn't mean right this minute," the Minister said dryly. "Go about your tasks. I will organize the council to take place tonight, after the seventh bell. It will take at least that long to dig up enough warm bodies to make this respectable."
 
That would give them less than ten hours to do everything, or at least get things to a state where they could be put on hold for however long the Ceres-style debate dragged out. "Of course," he said. "We will be there."
 
He turned away from the counselor, his head spinning, and staggered slightly on his next step. A strong hand caught his elbow, and he looked up to see worried red eyes boring into his. He mustered a smile for Kurogane, knowing even as he did so how false it must look painted on his face. "Hey, you okay?" Kurogane asked him. "Relax. We'll get through this. I'll help."
 
"Yes…" Fai brought a hand up to massage his face, trying to ease the pounding headache that now raged there furiously. He wasn't thinking. He had to use his resources. Here he had at his right hand, literally, the best warrior in Suwa, a powerful natural sorcerer with a resistance to hostile magics and long experience dealing with demons. Kurogane had better things to be doing than to babysit him…
 
The decision clicked over in his head, and he took a breath and then laid his hand over Kurogane's on his arm, squeezing slightly. "I'll be all right," he said. "I have to go oversee the containment spells in Ashura's room. Go with the doctor, let him look you over and treat your injuries."
 
"I'm fine," Kurogane growled, and Fai grinned. Puppy was so predictable.
 
"Humor me," he said. "Once Kakei has scolded you and loaded you down with smelly salves for your bruises and advice you won't follow, come back and meet me here. We need a chance to talk alone. There is something I need for you to do for me."
 
"Anything," Kurogane said immediately, and Fai's smile turned a little sad.
 
"Ah, I knew that you would say that," he said, and patting Kurogane's hand one more time, he pulled his arm free. But what would Kurogane be saying once he asked it -- that was another story. 

   ---------------------- 

Chapter Text

Kurogane got free from the doctor much later than he'd intended, feeling intense irritation over the whole affair. This Kakei was worse even than the doctors Tomoyo foisted on him in Edo; at least they had been willing to take no for an answer, unlike this man who seemed to want to tell him what he was feeling. After an intense examination, Kakei had declared him with no more serious wounds than bad bruising all up and down his torso and a few pulled muscles in his arms. Which quite frankly, Kurogane already knew; he'd patrolled with worse.
 
The doctor had finally given him some painkillers, which he intended to get rid of at the first opportunity, and instructions to rest for a few weeks, which he intended to ignore. Nihon would need him in the next few days, to try to be a voice of sanity in their chaotic northern neighbor. He'd need to be clear-headed for that. And Fai would need him, too, if only to stop him from working himself to death with all the new demands that had been placed on his head.
 
He met up with his overworked lover in the side chamber where they'd tended Ashura, now cleared and swept clean and empty of all but themselves. It was the same tapestried, sun-filled chamber where he and Fai had waited for their audience with Ashura, before everything had gone to hell. The benches had been shoved back against the wall to clear space on the polished floor, and Kurogane left them, instead grabbing Fai's arm and dragged him tumbling into the padded window seat.
 
Before Fai could protest -- not that he seemed to want to protest all that much -- he cut him off with a kiss, pulling Fai tight in his arms as his fingers dug into Fai's waist. Fai moaned softly against his mouth, then melted into his embrace, wrapping his arms about him in return and clutching at his shoulders. Kurogane kissed him with a  sort of furious satisfaction, pleasure and protectiveness and possessiveness all wrapped into one. Mine. The rest of the world, of Ceres, could damn well wait their turn; he was not going to let them tear Fai to pieces to please them.
 
Kurogane kept up the kiss until he felt some of the tension in his own stomach unknot and drain away, until he felt the hint of a warm tingle begin to course through his body in response to Fai's nearness. Then, reluctantly, he broke contact and pushed slightly away; now was not a time for thoughts of sex.
 
"The doctor cleared you?" Fai said in a subdued voice. He leaned his head against Kurogane's shoulder, and brushed feather-light fingers over the purpling bruise visible below his sleeve.
 
Kurogane grunted a noncommittal response, and Fai laughed breathlessly. "Why am I not surprised," he said.
 
"I'll be fine," Kurogane snorted. "I've gone into battle with much worse, you know."
 
"Yes, I do know," Fai scolded him. "That's exactly why I worry."
 
"This council," Kurogane said, getting down to business before Fai could nag him about his health. "The one establishing a regent while Ashura is out of it. Is that really going to be all right?"
 
"It should be," Fai said, his expression sobering. "Galladon is right that there has to be some process, or the remaining nobles will scream bloody murder. But now... now they don't really have enough presence to push their own candidate through -- not Tennou, anyway. The ministers would far rather have me than him. I'll probably be confirmed as a matter of course, but we have to go through all the right motions first."
 
He still couldn't see Fai as king of anything, but it wouldn't help matters to say so now. "You won't be alone, anyway," he said instead, doing his awkward best to offer support. "You have all those other wizards to back you up. And you've got me." No one would get through him to harm Fai, not even over his dead body.
 
"Yes, well," Fai said, and he did not answer right away. He pulled out of Kurogane's embrace, leaving him feeling cold and disappointed, and paced nervously around the room. "That was part of what I wanted to talk with you about."
 
"What was?"
 
Fai turned to face him, and his expression was serious. "I don't want you to stay here," he said. "Syaoran is leaving Ruval tonight, leaving Ceres to search for Sakura. I want you to go with him."
 
"What?” Kurogane stared incredulously. "Are you out of your mind? Dammit, you can't ask me to leave you again! I've been in Ruval for less than a week! Why me? Why not you? Why not anyone else?"
 
 "Do you think I like this either?" Fai snapped in return. "But this is the way it has to be! This -- all of this mess and politicking -- is nothing but a distraction," he said, waving his hand around as if to encompass the entire castle. "This is his doing -- our enemy, the great warlock, the one who murdered your mother. Murder from a distance, chaos and distraction at the critical moment -- this is everything he's done before! He wanted to sow chaos, to set us against one another so we'd be too busy and distracted with infighting to seek him out. But finding him -- finding Sakura -- that's what really matters. We must find her, and stop him before it's too late! If you don't leave by tonight --"
 
 "And what will you do without me, huh?" Kurogane demanded. "You know you need me here! I'm not just going to go trotting off merrily into the wilderness and leave you alone to starve here!"
 
 "Kuro-sama…" Fai heaved a weary sigh, and for a moment all the anxiety and fears that he'd been trying so hard to suppress played over his face. He pushed back his hair, and his hands were shaking. "I still don’t think you understand... how important this is. Finding Sakura before it's too late. I'll be all right for a few weeks. You know I will."
 
"And if it takes more than a few weeks?" Kurogane challenged him with a snarl.
 
 Fai met his eyes solemnly. "Then it probably won't matter," he said. "Nothing will ever matter again."
 
Kurogane set his teeth. A long, uncomfortable moment of silence stretched between them. "This is pretty hard for me to swallow, you know," Kurogane said at last. "All this end-of-the-world stuff. I fought demons all my life, and I still don't see what could possibly be so terrible that the whole world won't be able to pick up and carry on afterwards."
 
 Fai vented an unsettled half-laugh. "That's because you don't understand how dangerous conjuration really is, Kuro-chan," he said. "With enough power -- and he has the power to do it -- you could tear the fabric of this world apart. Just the seismic implications of such a shift -- he could sink half this continent into the sea. Or blow enough volcanic ash into the sky to blot out the sun for a hundred years."
 
Kurogane stared at him. He literally could not wrap his mind around the scale of destruction that Fai was describing. "You must be joking," he said.
 
"I'm not. Listen, Kuro-chan, these are just things that can happen by accident when playing around conjuration. And if he actually has managed to bridge the chasm to other worlds -- he could invite any of the denizens from their worlds to come and enter ours."
 
"I know demons," Kurogane argued stubbornly. "I'm not afraid of them."
 
"Those demons were chimera, wizard-forged, but ultimately creatures of this world. I'm talking about creatures or beings that don't even exist on our scale, that don't work by our rules. The creatures he brought in here earlier to spread the curse -- those were only tiny, lesser manifestations. If he can open up a large enough portal, he could call into this world a full-sized demon, or even a god. No warrior, however brave -- and no wizard, however foolhardy -- would be more than flies against them."
 
Kurogane sat back, shaken despite himself by the dark images that Fai was conjuring. "I don't understand," he said. "If he's been able to do all this for all these years, why hasn't he? What's he been waiting for? And what does he need the princess for, anyway?"
 
"I don't know." At Kurogane's huff of exasperation, Fai made a frustrated gesture with his hands. "I really don't! I told you before, none of us have any idea what Sakura's magical talent is! But I know it's strong -- stronger than anyone else born on Ceres soil. And whatever it is, our enemy has spent years searching for her, and gone to great lengths to kidnap her. He knows what her power is, and he was willing to do anything to get her. We can't afford to let him make use of her power."
 
Kurogane shook his head stubbornly. "I can't believe that the Princess would lend herself to any such evil scheme," he said.
 
"Not willingly," Fai said with a ragged catch in his voice, "no. But -- but he's very strong, and ruthless. This is the same man who taught the Master of Demons, remember, the same man who murdered your mother in his shrine. He -- I don't think there's anything he wouldn't do, to force her if -- if she doesn't agree. And she's so -- young --"
 
His voice broke, and he put his hand hastily up to his face, shoulders hitching as he fought to regain control. Kurogane looked down, giving him time to compose himself, feeling ashamed. Damn it -- he should have known better. Princess Sakura had a strong will, but she was just a girl, and very sheltered from the world and all its cruelties. Fai was right. He wouldn't be able to rest at night knowing she was out there in the hands of a man like that and not doing anything to save her.
 
"All right," he said gruffly. "Don't you worry. I'll go. I'll find her and I won't let anyone stop me from bringing her safely home."
 
Fai inhaled sharply, and when he lowered his hands a moment later, there was a only a suspicious redness of his eyes, the swift-fading sheen of wetness on his cheeks. "Thank you, Kuro-sama," he said quietly. "I believe in you. If anyone can save her, I know you can."
 
"But I don't understand why you can't go, as well," Kurogane added impatiently. "I know you're being eaten up with worry inside about her. If she's what really matters, then why don't we go search for her together?"
 
"Because I have to stay here!" Fai burst out raggedly, eye flashing with angry frustration. "Didn't you hear this nonsense out there? Tennou is the last high-ranking noble left in Ceres, which makes him next in the bloodline for the throne. And he's seeing Nipponese plots and shadows everywhere! I'm the only one who has the legitimacy to block him. If I don't stay here to keep things under control, then the first thing he'll do on seizing the throne is to declare war on Nihon. That's the last thing we need -- the borders running red with blood as we fight among ourselves, while our enemy looks down at us and laughs!"
 
"I don't --" Kurogane stopped midsentence with a frown, then shook his head, trying to order his thoughts. "I know you're right," he said more quietly. "But we still don't even have a clue where to look for them. What makes you think that I'd have any better luck following Syaoran on a wild goose chase?"
 
 Fai stepped away, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the door, as though his eye could penetrate through the walls and layers of the castle to hold Syaoran in his gaze. "He loves her, you know," he said quietly. "That sort of love is a powerful magic in its own right. It can form an immensely strong bond, one that bridges great distances and obstacles. And he has a powerful determination in his own will, as well. If he thinks he knows where to find them, then that love will guide him to her."
 
This all sounded awfully wishy-washy to Kurogane, but he wasn't the wizard and Fai was. Still, although Fai sounded sincere and confident, there was a subtle evasiveness about his words that led Kurogane to wonder if he wasn't being told the whole story.
 
"But I don't think he can make it on his own, powerful determination or no," Fai said, turning his earnest gaze on Kurogane. "He's not much older than Sakura, and it's a long journey with a terrible enemy at the end. He needs a strong protector who can guide and guard him, and help him face our enemy at the end of the journey. You know he won't consent to travel with any of us wizards -- he hates us all. You're the only one that can do it. Your Tsukuyomi, she can see the future too, can't she? Didn't she tell you that you would be going on a journey that she could not see the end of?"
 
About to respond with angry denial, Kurogane stopped as though poleaxed as Fai's question registered. He remembered that last meeting with Tomoyo, the quiet of the cha-no-yuu, and the mysterious sadness of her voice as she'd whispered to him. A path is opening before you, she'd said, a path that leads away from here and does not return. I sense great danger if you go down this road; but if you do not, the danger becomes not only for you, but for the entire world.
 
 At the time he'd thought she'd meant his journey to Ceres, but that made little sense; there'd been no danger to him here. Going out into the wilderness against an unknown enemy, however, with only the passionate delusions of a teenage boy as a guide... Had she foreseen this? What had she seen?
 
 "You see," Fai said softly, touching the back of his hand. "I wish that Yukito's visions could tell us more. I wish that we had some form of guidance, some better option, but we have none; and we have no time. You know I wouldn't send you away from me lightly, but this is the best way, the only way. Please. I know what I'm doing."
 
Fai's quiet pleas moved Kurogane more than his earlier reasoned logic. With a sigh, he resigned himself to the inevitability of this journey. "All right," he admitted grudgingly. "I'll go."
 
 "By tonight?" Fai persisted.
 
"Yeah. By tonight," Kurogane admitted. He turned a stern eye on Fai. "But before I go, you're going to feed."
 
 A pause, as Fai shifted away from Kurogane, and his gaze slid away. "I don't think that would be wise," Fai said softly.
 
 "What?" Kurogane said. His half-soothed anger burst into new life, and he saw red. "What the fuck, why not?"
 
 "You're leaving on what might be a hard journey," Fai said in a distant, thoughtful voice. Even to Kurogane, it sounded like he was testing out the excuse even as he said it. "You can't afford to lose any blood that might weaken you."
 
 "Bullshit!" For a moment, Kurogane felt the overpowering urge to punch Fai in the head; it took a great effort of will to slam his fist back against the wall behind him, instead. "There's no fucking way I'll accept a half-assed excuse like that! What's wrong with you? What the hell kind of thoughts are going through your head? If I had some way of seeing what you were thinking right now --"
 
He stopped mid-rant; something about Fai's expression clued him in. "That's it, isn't it?" he said incredulously. "It's the blood bond. You're afraid of it -- you're afraid of me knowing what you're thinking!"
 
 "That's not true, Kuro-sama," Fai whispered, completely unconvincingly.
 
 "What aren't you telling me?" Kurogane demanded. "What the hell are you hiding? You ask me to trust you -- you want me to go out on a limb on your say-so -- and you're keeping back something so big, you won't even let me feed you for fear that I'll find it out! How am I supposed to trust you in a situation like this?"
 
 "Please, Kuro-sama," Fai said. With an urgent step forward he was in Kurogane's personal space, hands reaching up to tangle in the hem of Kurogane's inner coat. Kurogane would have been outraged at the liberty, at Fai trying so blatantly to coerce him, if not for the trembling of Fai's hands. Fai kept his gaze down, to the side, unwilling to meet Kurogane's eyes. "I swear to you it's nothing that would put you in danger, or the boy either. I'm not lying about how important this is. But there are some things that you cannot know right now, or it will ruin everything. Please, please -- if you love me -- just trust me, this one time."
 
 Well, hell. How was he supposed to deny an appeal like that?
 
 Kurogane's jaw clenched, and he tilted his head back to glare murderous holes in the ceiling. With great effort, he let out a long breath, bidding his anger to go with it. "All right," he said at last. "All right. But you're going to tell me everything later, you got me?" he growled.
 
 "Yes," Fai's grateful smile lit up his world. "I will, I will. I promise." 
  
  ----------------
 
Syaoran would have walked out into a Ceres blizzard stark naked if he had to, alone and emptyhanded, in search of his princess. But despite that, he was more grateful than he could say when his teacher returned to their quarters and told Syaoran that he was going along to help. Kurogane was obviously in such a foul mood that Syaoran hardly dared ask him why he'd changed his mind. The only thing the big man would say was that Princess Sakura had been the first person to befriend him when he'd been a prisoner here last fall, and Syaoran left it at that.  

Even Syaoran couldn't begrudge the generosity of supplies that the Ruval palace staff loaded onto them -- riding gear, tents and blankets, ammunition and rations. The kitchen staff, in particular, seemed especially distraught over the kidnapping of the princess -- and unlike anyone else in the castle, they seemed to wish him all goodwill in his journey to find them. The cooks burdened them with so much food -- some fresh, some dried, and an armload full of camping-gear to cook whatever they hunted -- that Syaoran didn't think they would be able to walk under the load.

At least until the stable-master brought out their mounts.

"What the hell is that?" Kurogane demanded, eyeing the beasts with suspicion. Apart from being four-legged and long-faced, they didn't much resemble horses. They were each eight feet tall, for one, with another twelve inches of height added on by the pair of graceful, curved horns sprouting from each head. They were mostly white, although bands of black and even a dark purplish blue decorated their coats, and their shaggy, wooly hair covered their entire bodies, not just mane and tail. Their hooves were split, and their step was more like a deer's than a horse's.

An acolyte -- white-robed, but without the badges of rank that would mark him as a full-fledged wizard -- followed the stablehands out and watched the creatures anxiously. "These are kozelorug, Master Kurogane," he said in nervous, accented nihongo.

"Never heard of 'em," Kurogane said. "They have these in Ceres?"

"Not exactly," the boy said with a quick smile. "These are... special animals that General Ko has try to make for many years. They are strong like horse, but they jump like deer... they climb rocks like goat. Better for mountain trails, better for rough ground. You need these if you try to climb many mountains."

"That would be really useful," Syaoran said, marveling despite his reservations at the graceful, beautiful animals. "Why aren't they using them all over Ceres? Or were we just not allowed to see?"

The boy shook his head, and seemed to be searching for the words to explain, or at least to explain without giving away many secrets. "They are... the General try to make for many years," he said. "These two, the only strong adults. Others young or sick. Other than these, only six."

"Then they must be incredibly valuable!" Syaoran said incredulously. "And they're just going to let us take off with their only healthy breeding pair?"

The acolyte looked at him with a solemn expression. "General Ko wants you to find Princess Sakura too," he said with perfect clarity.

Ignoring the discussion, Kurogane picked up their bags of gear with a grunt and began loading them onto their uncanny mounts. Syaoran hurried to do the same, feeling somewhat humbled by the incredible gift. The beasts came with their own saddles, which was a good thing, since none of their gear would have fit those slender, sloping backs; the kozelorug saddles also seemed to be built quite differently, with straps to hold a rider in. Nervously, Syaoran wondered just how far they could actually jump.

Before long, they were loaded up, saddled, and ready to go. Syaoran had mounted his beast and was struggling with the straps -- it looked a long way to the marble paving stones below -- but Kurogane had yet to mount his when quick running footsteps came from the hallway. Kurogane's head turned like a tracking beast, and his eyes narrowed just before the wizard Fai Flowright burst out of the small side door.

"Oh, good, I caught you," the wizard said breathlessly, bending forward and resting his hands on his bent knees as he caught his breath. He was dressed in a full, heavy-looking formal version of the wizards' regalia, every inch of the sweeping robe patterned with blue and silver embroidery, and with several heavy medallions hanging silver jewelry around his neck. The formality of the dress was at odds with his flushed face and disarrayed hair, coming in wisps out of the silver clasp.

"What's all this getup, then?" Kurogane demanded to know in a gruff, unfriendly voice. "Aren't you supposed to be upstairs in the council chamber right about now?"

"Now, Kuro-pon, I couldn't let you go without saying goodbye," Fai said in a teasing voice. He straightened up, turning to look over their preparations; Syaoran stiffened as their eyes met, but Fai's gaze slid past without comment, as though he didn't see Syaoran there at all. He turned back to the warrior. "And I wanted to give you something that will come in handy."

"The last thing we need on this trail is more weight," Kurogane complained. "These stick-legged goat-things are going to founder ten ri down the road at this rate."

Fai chuckled. "Don't underestimate the kozelorug, Kurogane. They may look skinny, but they're stronger than you think!"

Kurogane eyed the equally skinny man in front of him, and vented only a dubious 'hm.'

"It looks like they've supplied you with everything you need," Fai said. The smile faded from his face, making him look fierce and serious. "But this is just from me to you. Hold out your hand."

Kurogane did, with a wary scowl. The wizard took hold of his gloved hand, and his expression stilled, became one of inner concentration. His free fingers moved in an elegant dance in the air a few inches above, and a bright golden light followed them, forming a fluid cloud for a moment before dripping down onto Kurogane's hand like honey. Fai held onto his hand for a moment, eye closed, then opened it and nodded in satisfaction.

"Put your hand on your sword, Kuro-sama," he instructed, no teasing in his voice. Kurogane gave him an incredulous look, but obeyed. 

As his hand wrapped around the leather-bound hilt of his greatsword, the light flashed and vanished, and Kurogane jumped, his limbs visibly twitching.  He rounded on the wizard. "What the hell did you just do?" he demanded.

Fai grinned, letting out a breath in relief. "It's just a little summoning spell," he said. "In case you get stuck under another landslide and lose your swords... again. You can call them to you from anywhere with just a thought, and you'll never have to worry about being unarmed again."

"Huh." Kurogane opened his hand in front of him, staring at the now-empty palm, and then flexed it closed. He looked back at the wizard. "Thank you," he said seriously.

"It was no problem, Kuro-pon!" Fai said, clapping delightedly.

"Sensei," Syaoran called, jittering with impatience. "Let's go! We're losing the light."

Kurogane nodded to Syaoran, then turned back to Fai. "He's right," he said. "Was that all you had to give me?"

"One more thing," Fai said, and he reached both hands up to Kurogane's shoulders, pulling him down.

Expecting to see more spellcasting being performed, Syaoran blinked, then did a double-take as Fai closed his eye and pressed his lips against Kurogane's. That cheeky --! But instead of objecting, Kurogane was kissing him back, wrapping his arms around the rich-clad robe and pulling him close.

Syaoran gazed at them both in open-mouthed shock for a moment, then jerked his head around to face the other way, his cheeks flaming. He rubbed his palms fiercely against his eyes for a moment, sure they were deceiving him; but when he snuck a peek back at them, they were still locked in an embrace. Since when had his master been...?

Head swimming, Syaoran decided not to risk another look back; instead, he picked up the reins of his strange horse-goat mount and urged it into motion, clopping over the flagstones out the gates. That did serve to distract him for a short while; the kozelorug had a gait not quite like that of a real horse, and the unfamiliar saddle hampered his attempts to find his seat. At least he couldn't fall off.

Inside, though, his mind raced with questions. His teacher and that wizard -- were lovers? How? He couldn't possibly comprehend it, and yet in that new perspective, a lot of Kurogane's strange behavior over the past weeks made a lot more sense. But -- did that mean that his friends in Edo had been right about the swordmaster, that he was a pervert and a traitor to Ceres? And most mind-boggling of all, when had this happened?

After a while -- though probably not as long as it seemed -- Kurogane emerged from the gate behind him, mounted on his own beast. The kozelorug's formidable height added to his own, and combined with his stormy expression made him rather terrifying to look on.

He caught Syaoran staring, face still hot and eyes still slightly bugged out. "What?" he snarled at the boy.

"Um -- nothing," Syaoran said, deciding not to plague his teacher with the questions he was dying to ask. It beat really dying, and he recognized all the signs of his teacher in a really foul mood.

 It didn't really matter, Syaoran decided, gathering his own reins again. Kurogane was still his teacher and master, and the best fighter and wisest man alive that Syaoran knew. And he was going to help him rescue Princess Sakura, and there was no one Syaoran would more gladly have at his side.

"All right," Kurogane growled, kneeing his own mount onto the cobbled street ahead of Syaoran's. "Let's get this over with."  

They clopped down the steep switchback paths towards the palace city of Ruval -- the strange, agile beasts seemed completely unbothered by the steep drop of the grade, and gradually Syaoran grew more confident in his seat. People turned to stare, pointing and whispering as they passed, but nobody bothered them and they did not stop.

 At last they passed the last of the stone houses and came to the edge of the city; the road met a crossroads here, with the larger stone-paved roads leading to and away from the palace itself, and a fainter track crossing it.

"All right, kid," Kurogane said. "This is your show. You're the one with the ideas; I'm just along for the ride. Now, where are we really going?"
 
Syaoran glanced uncertainly around, gauging the roads. The road leading east was a minor one, barely more than a track, and it would peter out even further as it came up against the edge of the valley, the tall stark ridge of the mountains that loomed like a wall in the direction of sunrise. 
 
But it was to the east that his heart tugged him, the faint pull like a ribbon attached to his breastbone and leading off into the distance. He turned onto the eastwards track, and Kurogane followed. He remembered the maps; beyond the jagged barrier of the mountains was scrubland, unclaimed and unfarmed and lawless, and then, further eastwards still, was what he sought. He knew it in his bones.

"Clow," Syaoran said. "The desert kingdom. The place where I was born, where I lived before Father found me."

"Why Clow?" Kurogane asked in irritation. "Of all the places in the world, why there?"
 
Syaoran was silent for a while, struggling to articulate his certainty. Images filled his mind, bright, hot, sandy images of the homeland he barely remembered. The blazing sun and the hard, dusty ground; dry breezes moving through alleys of cracked clay walls; and above all, the brilliant blue of the sky, like nothing he'd ever seen since he came to these wet, cloudy westlands.
 
"I just do," he said at last.
 
Kurogane snorted; Syaoran supposed he deserved that scorn. But at least he settled back in his own saddle. "Well, I guess we'll see how good these things really are at climbing rocks," he grumbled.
 
"Yes," Syaoran said gratefully. "Without them we'd have to go all the way down the valley and then circle around the mountains to the south. This way will save us weeks of travel."
 
And that was a good thing, because Sakura... Syaoran tried to shove away thoughts of Sakura being hurt, being scared, waiting desperately for someone to ride to her rescue. It was impossible; he might as well try to block out breathing. His princess was somewhere out there, in the great and terrible deserts of Clow -- somewhere, she was suffering, and she needed him to save her. 
  
  ----------------
  
 
Sakura emerged blinking into the bright light of the afternoon sun, sloping in from the west in a brilliant azure sky. The hushed, dark stone chapel had been cold, but out in the sunlight it was quite pleasant, with warm breezes periodically tugging at her clothes and hair.
 
Fronting the courtyard was a lush garden, with carefully tended trees and banks of flowers interspersed by gravel paths. A broad green lawn of grass stretched away into the distance; Sakura's eye followed it until it seemed to drop off abruptly into the blue sky.
 
"Walk with me for a space, Princess," Fei Wong Reed said. "I am sure that you are confused. I will tell you who we are, and why I have brought you here."
 
She did. Sakura tagged along behind Fei Wong Reed, walking sedately along the path ahead of her. She had to take two quick steps for every careful, measured one of his; he moved with a certain ponderous inevitability, like a mountain going for a stroll. But if he had any destination in mind, he did not seem to be in a hurry to get there, nor to speak again.
 
This strange man, who seemed so melancholy and yet so dangerous at the same time -- frightened and fascinated her. She was scared and confused by being pulled away so abruptly from her family and home, and yet Fei Wong Reed had been kind to her, and shown her this lovely garden. He'd said he needed her, that he'd been waiting for her. In all her fourteen years of life, no one had ever needed her before. And to save the world? What had he meant by that? He couldn't possibly mean it for real, could he?
 
At last she gulped a little, sneaking glances up and around her; she saw nothing around her that looked even remotely familiar. "Um, um," she said, "where are we?"
 
"I apologize for your abrupt translocation," Fei Wong Reed said after a pause. "You will find this place quite pleasant, I hope; every one of your needs will be tended to during your stay. If you tire, or desire food or drink, simply ask anyone here, and they will assist you. All of the servants here are members of our chapter, and none would so much as dream as offer you any discourtesy."
 
A little ways away from them Sakura saw the distant figures of gardeners bending over the flower beds, dressed in simple black clothes like her host. She waved tentatively to two of them as they walked past, and the man glanced up at her, then bowed in a gesture of deep respect as the woman sank into a deep curtsey. She faltered a little way behind her host, then had to patter quickly ahead to keep up. "Yes, but where are we?" she persisted.
 
"Eden," he said. A broad arm swept out to gesture to the beautiful garden, and she nervously ducked her head away from the trailing sleeve. "A paradise that we have cultivated for many years. Someday soon, all the world shall be just such a garden, when the White God comes to us. Until then, we make do with this humble plot of land."
 
"Oh," Sakura said. He still hadn't answered her question, but she was too intimidated to pester him further about it. "Um, can I, can I go home soon? Everyone at the palace is going to be so terribly worried when they find I'm gone..." Although Sakura couldn't help but think to herself, after all her father's and Ferio's and Fai-niisan's protectiveness and paranoia -- in the end she hadn't even needed to disobey and run off to be kidnapped. Life wasn't fair.
 
"I apologize for the distress your family may be feeling," Fei Wong Reed said in a deep, measured voice. "But the need that compelled me to bring you here is very great. I could not allow their stifling over-protectiveness to hold you back. In time, if you should wish it, I will certainly return you to the home that confined you. But first, I beg that you will hear my proposal."
 
A blush touched Sakura's face, and she ducked her head and twisted her fingers together. She'd never been in the position of an adult begging her for her help -- for anything. At the very least, she should hear him out, she thought. "Okay," she said. "I mean, okay, I'm listening. Um, if you don't mind my asking, who are you? I've never really heard of the White God... or of the 'Heralds' before. And I've never seen your symbol." She reached out tentatively to indicate the worked gold medallion around his neck, then snatched her hand back shyly.
 
"You would not have," Fei Wong Reed said, and to her surprise, he had a slight smile on his face. "Our fraternity does not advertise. It would invite too much unwelcome attention from temporal governments interested only in power for themselves. But although our numbers are not large, we have always been here, working quietly in the background, for centuries, to bring about the coming of the White God."
 
"So this -- this service of the God? So it's like a religion?" she asked. All Sakura knew of religion, which wasn't much, she'd learned in books; it was never a topic of great interest in Ceres. But she knew religion was very important in other countries; in Nihon, the Emperor was considered the descendant of the divine sun goddess Amaterasu, and ruled with the support of the priest caste. But what Fei Wong Reed was describing didn't sound anything like her textbook's descriptions of Amaterasu.
 
"I would not call it a religion," Fei Wong Reed said slowly. "When men speak of religion, they mean a set of fictions that they agree to believe. When men speak of faith, they mean to do nothing while hoping for a better world to come of its own accord. Do not mistake the White God for the flimsy pretensions of other cults and religions. She is real. She is a being of transcendent power and limitless benevolence, not like anything of this world. She lives in another realm, another plane of existence, but she is quite real."
 
"I don't understand," Sakura confessed.
 
"You have grown up with wizards and magicians," Fei Wong Reed began, "so already I know that your understanding of the world is much greater than most foolish children your age. But even the wizards of Ceres are limited in their understanding of the world, like children who play in a sandbox and never look to see the world outside the boundaries of the box. Those who have the knowledge and the power to look beyond the boundaries of this fragile world know that there is more to the cosmos than our pitiful humanity. There are realms out there that our human minds can barely comprehend, and races of beings who live in those realms who are far beyond mortal humans. It is from those transcendent realms that the White God comes."
 
He reached up to pull the medallion over his head, and held it out to her, glinting brilliantly in the sun. "This mark is the symbol of those who seek to serve Her. The wings represent Her divine status, and the gold represents Her limitless light. Make no mistake, the God is not human; she is something far greater, a being so beyond us that we are to her as no more than gnats. She has a soul, like human beings, but unlike humans, she is free of corruption. Her soul contains only light, never any darkness. That is why we need Her, to bring her pure goodness into the world."
 
"But think a lot of religions want to make the world better," Sakura said. "They -- the big ones, anyway -- all have moral codes, which encourage people to be kind and peaceful to each other and, and avoid sin. Why do you say that yours isn't like that?"
 
The path they followed had wound around a clump of flowering trees, and opened into a little paved court surrounding a fountain. "Many religions profess to have superior morality, and all pretend themselves the truth. But the real truth is that these religions are flawed because they are created and administered by men. Men are flawed and corrupt by nature, and given enough time and opportunity, they will bend all things to serve their appetites. No matter how sound their principles, or how idealistic the structure of the churches they build for themselves, all religions will inevitably succumb to the temptations of man. And so they use their own high ideals for money, wealth and power, and in doing so become no better than the sinners they excoriate."
 
"Oh," Sakura said again, not sure how to respond to this formidable man. In some ways he reminded her of her father; King Ashura had a similar air of imposing authority, although his was tempered with a hard-edged dynamism. But there was none of her father's usual cool disapproval, cold disappointment when he looked at her. He didn't seem to mind her presence, had even invited her to walk with him, and was willing to answer her questions.
 
He gestured at a stone bench sitting before the fountain; shyly, she sat before it. He seemed to be waiting for her response. Taking a deep breath, she dared another question. "My tutor once said," she began, thinking of Yukito, of Fai, of the other learned men who'd seen to her education. "That it's not that men are evil, but when they're forced into terrible situations, then they will do desperate things to protect themselves and their loved ones. He says that because people don't have enough of things that they need, like -- like food and shelter and things, then they will fight each other for them. He said that there will always be disasters like famines and earthquakes, because the world isn't perfect, and so there will always be suffering."
 
"That is very like a Ceresian to say," Fei Wong Reed said in a dry voice. "But your tutor was a fool; or perhaps he wished to give you a kinder view of the world. The truth is that men need no excuses or shortages to behave cruelly to each other; they need no more reason than their own petty greed, or intolerance, or ignorance."
 
"But ignorance can be cured by education, can't it?" Sakura said anxiously. "And intolerance, too. People can learn to be peaceful with each other, as long as they understand each other, like Ceres and Nihon did to end the war. They just need to be taught!"
 
Fei Wong Reed sighed, a minute exhalation of breath that shifted his large body imperceptibly. "You are very kind yourself, Princess," he said, "and you wish to believe that all people are like you. But they are not. There are many educated nobles who are no more tolerant or understanding of others than the most ignorant peasant; indeed, they use their own high learning to justify their superiority, making elaborate excuses for their petty thievery against their fellow man."
 
"You keep saying that humans are bad, and that we need the God to save us," she said. "But, but, that isn't true, is it? I mean, some people are bad, but most people are good at heart. I think that all most people want to do is live their lives and be happy with their families. Isn't it awfully dangerous, bringing someone from another dimension into this world?"
 
Fei Wong Reed stopped walking and turned to face her, a deepening scowl on her face. Sakura quailed, regretting her question. "Princess," Fei Wong Reed said, his voice growing deeper and rougher with some tightly controlled emotion. "You are young still; you have lived most of your life as a child, sheltered and pampered by rich and powerful men who protected you from the ills of the world. I have lived for many centuries, and I have seen many empires rise and fall, and the one thing that never changes from one nation to the next is the cruelty of man. There are some good men, it is true, but no matter how they struggle against the tide of cruelty and apathy, they can leave no more than a passing footprint on the sand, to be washed away by the next wave..."
 
"That's not true," Sakura interrupted. "My father -- my father is a good man, and he's worked hard to make Ceres a better place. He's made a difference. I know he has!"
 
"Do you think the sycophants and hangers-on in your court tell you the truth to your face, Princess?" Fei Wong Reed inquired with withering sarcasm. "Your father, yes, I know of him. He is full of ambitions; perhaps he means well. But even in your very own country, so enlightened and civilized, the slaughter continues. Were you aware that the people of Ceres, as in Valeria, believe that sin is inherited? That the evils committed by a parent are passed on to the children? In most rural mountain villages, if a man is executed for a crime, then their children will also be killed, even down to the smallest infant. Did you never know?" 
 
Sakura's breath caught, and tears sprang painfully to her eyes. "No..." she whispered. "That can't be true, can it...?" 

 "Open your eyes to the truth, Princess," Fei Wong Reed told her remorselessly. "Every country has their own atrocities, not only Ceres. Everyone! Nihon prides itself on being a great empire, the most sophisticated in the world, and yet the majority of the people in Nihon are treated like animals, bound into serfdom under the harsh tyranny of their samurai masters. A member of the samurai can steal, or rape, or kill a serf with no consequences; and yet a peasant who commits even the smallest crime may be repaid with brutal torture or death."
 
"No, they wouldn't," Sakura protested; images of Kurogane-san flashed before her eyes, so big and strong and yet so restrained and kind. He would never, ever abuse his power that way, would he...?
 
"They would, and they do. I have seen it with my own eyes, countless times across the Empire. In the conquered provinces of the Nihon empire, the Nipponese do not even try to disguise their arrogant brutality. In Koryo, the conquered people cannot own lands, or even use their family names; instead they are assigned degrading nicknames by the Nihon provincial government, and denied even the smallest rights and protections. Wives and daughters are dragged from their homes and pressed into camp followers for the Nihon army, 'comfort women' to serve their pleasure as they seek out yet more countries to conquer --"   
 
"Please stop," Sakura said, tears escaping her eyes as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. "I don't believe it, it can't be true." 

 "But the Nipponese, imperialistic as they are, do not have the monopoly on senseless cruelty," Fei Wong Reed continued remorselessly, stepping closer to the girl to loom over her. "In Hanshin, where rebellions still crop up every few years against Nihon rule, the rebels set fires every year which spread wildly out of control. They do not care how many innocents die in their vendetta against Nihon; indeed, they despise their own countrymen as 'collaborators' and take great pleasure in their deaths.
 
"In Autozam, where Nihon has campaigned for years to gain a foothold but not yet succeeded, they declare themselves free. A vile hypocrisy, when their economy is supported by slave labor; men and women and children of other races being captured from other countries and put to work in their mines. In Clow, the desert country, where water is more precious than gold, a few rich men control all the wealth of the country; they lavishly waste water on their estates, in elaborate fountains that spill carelessly into the sand, while outside their gates beggars die of thirst in the unrelenting desert heat.
 
"In Jade country, far to the east, the people think themselves very pious and holy; they pray incessantly to their fiction of a God and denounce all other religions as heresy. Any individual who is suspected of heresy -- or even just someone conveniently unable to defend themselves against the charge -- is denounced as a witch, and burned alive and public executions --"
 
"Stop!" Sakura cried, covering her ears with both hands and squeezing her eyes shut. "I don't want to hear it, I don't want to know any more! It can't all be true, it can't be, it can't be!"
 
She drew her legs up on the stone bench beside her, curling around herself to try to combat the piercing pain in her middle. Fei Wong Reed's merciless words drilled into her, and she couldn't stop hearing them, imagining the poor people being hurt and killed everywhere, while no one could stop it and no one could help --
 
A strong, cool hand gripped her wrist, and unpeeled her from her shaking huddle. She blinked up through tear-stained eyes at Fei Wong Reed; his face was stern, although his eyes were oddly compassionate.
 
"I have no reason to lie to you, Princess," Fei Wong Reed said. His voice was a soft rumble, but inexorable. "I will show you, in the portals through which I have watched the world, the truth of everything I have told you. Closing your eyes to the ills of the world does not make them go away. Only action can do that; and you, Sakura, have the capability to take that action. The world cries out for salvation, Princess. Do not turn your back on it."
 
Sakura rubbed her face against her sleeve to dry the tears, sniffing as she wiped snot away on the cuff of her sleeve. "I don't understand what you want me to do," she said in a trembling voice. "Why do you need me?"
 
"Because you alone have the power to call out the god," Fei Wong Reed answered.
 
"But, but," she said. "There are lots of other wizards who can talk to all sorts of things. Fai-niisan is really good at it, he can talk to animals and rainclouds and dead spirits, as well. But I can't do anything like that."
 
Fei Wong Reed made a curt, dismissive gesture. "Any two-bit necromancer or charlatan can speak with the lesser creatures of the mundane world, or command the degraded spirits of the dead," he said scornfully. "Your  voice has the power to breach worlds, and when you call out with your power, nothing can resist you. You must reach across the gap between worlds to find the white god, speak with her, and make known our need. In her benevolence she will feel pity for our suffering, and if you summon her, she will come."
 
Sakura looked down, at her scuffed sandals framed by the dark stone of the bench. "I'm not special," she said. "I've never been special. I've never been able to help anyone."
 
"You are not merely 'special,'" Fei Wong Reed told her, with unshakeable conviction. "You are unique. And as such, most limited fools will not be able to see or understand your invaluable talent. No one has ever called for your aid before because they did not fully understand your potential. But I do, and I have brought you here beyond the grasping and limiting reaches of your misguided guardians, so that you may train your talent and learn to put it to use."
 
He paused for a moment, then reached down to put his hand under her face and tilt her chin upwards. "You, and you alone, have the power to save the world. Will you?"
 
Sakura blinked the last tears out of her eyes, and tried to look somewhere, anywhere else besides his iron face, his penetrating, demanding eyes. She wasn't sure that she believed him yet, about her special power -- but she wanted to, oh, she wanted to believe him. Her slim body thrummed with conflicting emotions, excitement and fear, nearly trembling at the thought that she might really be able to save everyone.
 
She'd only known Fei Wong Reed for a few hours, yet she thought he was telling the truth. She'd always -- ever since she was a child -- been able to tell when someone was lying, and she knew that Fei Wong Reed was not. He really did mean to help the world, and he believed that he could do it with her help. She sensed an intensity in him, a passion to accomplish great deeds that went far beyond even her father's.
 
She'd never been any use to her father; his announcement in the council chamber opened her eyes to the fact that regarded her as a mere pawn to be used and cast aside. Fai-niisan was powerful and kind, but he would never have asked for her help; he still regarded her as a child. To everyone else in Ceres, she was a burden, a shameful secret that had to be constantly guarded and protected. Another face popped into her mind -- Syaoran, the boy from Nihon, the traveler who'd been to many countries and had befriended her. Syaoran...
 
Syaoran had told her not to be afraid, to look at new places as a challenge and an adventure instead of a trial to be feared. Syaoran had promised her that someday, the chance would come for her to be able to change the world, and when it came, she had to be ready to take it.
 
She opened her eyes, and looked up to meet Fei Wong Reed's gaze squarely. "Yes," she told him. "I will."

Chapter Text

The road, Kurogane decided, had been nothing more than a sadistic tease.

It was commonly accepted by cartographers - even Ceresian ones - that the eastern wall of the Ruval Valley was impassable. Kurogane had not been initially too concerned; much of the wooded hills and brush that he regularly beat through on his oni patrols had also been declared 'impassable' by the city folk at Edo. It simply meant that there was no building towns on it or driving trade routes through it, but one man on a horse could often go where a caravan could not. The fact that there had been a road leading up to the eastern ridge at all had been a hopeful sign, as far as Kurogane was concerned.

But the track had petered out to nothing on a last, broad meadow only a hundred feet above their starting point; they were barely above the level of the tallest castle spires. Already well above the timber line, in these summer months the bony mountain slopes were decorated only by low woody bushes and abundant, sweet smelling mountain herbs. A small herd of goats grazing on the short alpine grasses had moved to the other side of the meadow to avoid them, but were otherwise undisturbed by their arrival. Past that point, there was no more road.

Undaunted, the two travelers had consulted their maps - given to them along with the strange deer-goat mounts and the rest of their supplies - and set off for the place in the towering ridge that seemed the lowest. But the going was hard. What had appeared to be smooth ground from the distance was anything but even up close, and the grade ramped up drastically until what they were doing felt more like rock-climbing than hiking.

Kurogane quickly came to appreciate, however grudgingly, their mounts. A horse would never have made it up this far; it would have balked at the wide gaps between solid rocks, or panicked on the sliding gravel scree when attempting to scramble sideways along a slope. The kozelorug seemed perfectly at ease in this barren, broken landscape; their flexible, split-toed hooves easily found footing amongst even the most treacherous jumble of rocks. Without them, they would never have been able to bring mounts up this high; nor even made the climb themselves, laden with all the gear they would need to survive the journey ahead.

The ascent became more and more precarious the closer they came to the ridge's peak. The first time his mount made the startling leap from one rocky ledge to another, rather than scrambling down and then up from the stony ditch below, Kurogane's heart leapt into his mouth. He was glad that his momentary panic had frozen his voice in his throat and that he had not embarrassed himself with an inadvertent yelp, especially when he heard Syaoran's yell of dismay behind him as the second animal came sailing gracefully after its brother.

From that point on Kurogane gave up even trying to guide his mount, and just settled for grimly clinging to the saddle as he attempted to keep his balance. The kozelorug seemed to have picked up on their intentions, and picked their way steadily onwards towards the peak even without any guidance from Syaoran or Kurogane. The uncanny sense of surety was just another thing about these strange animals that made Kurogane uneasy. By all rights the sailing leap ought to have snapped the animal's legs like twigs when it landed, but it didn't so much as stagger under the impact of landing. Whatever the wizards had done to these animals, it had been worth it.

Still, even with the magically enhanced mounts carrying most of the load, it was still tricky, nerve-wracking going, trying to keep his balance and his seat as the goat-like creatures made steps and leaps that were almost vertical. Kurogane's jaw was clamped so tight it hurt, and his fingers were almost numb from clenching around the leather reins; sweat streamed down the nape of his neck and back, and trickled down his arms.

What made it all worse was the nagging feeling that they weren't making any progress. Although it took them hours to climb the ridge, their progress was slow and mostly vertical. The white-tiered palace and the mountain town below it were still in sight, sharp and clear in the thin, cold air and seeming almost close enough to reach out and touch. With every lurching step that Kurogane traveled away from there he hated it; hated being forced on a journey that seemed ultimately pointless. Fai was in that castle; even though he'd insisted on sending Kurogane away, Fai still needed him. Kurogane couldn't stand the thought of being sent away with his duties still unfulfilled.

At last the kozelorug surged over the top of a sharply defined ridge, and Kurogane growled in frustration; there was another, higher ridge a few miles off, hidden from view as it had been by the sharp edge behind them. The pocket of land folded between the peaks was rocky and bare as the rest, with only a few tufts of grass peeking out from cracks in the stone, where soil could gather sheltered by harsh winds or even harsher gravity. Even with the summer solstice coming on, swathes of white ice shone brightly against the dark gray rock where winter snow still lingered.

For a time, their two mounts fell in pace side by side instead of single file, and brought Syaoran within talking range again. Syaoran kept stealing sideways glances at his mentor, which Kurogane ignored. At last, Syaoran took a deep breath, and began to speak.

"Um," he said. "Do you mind if I ask you a question...?"

Kurogane did mind; he had little doubt what topic the boy was madly curious to ask about. "What," he said flatly.

Syaoran swallowed, daunted by Kurogane's unfriendly tone, but finally took the plunge. "So, are you a-and that wizard - that wizard - are you really -?"

"Yes," Kurogane said firmly, cutting over his stuttering attempts at speech.

"Oh." Syaoran blushed furiously, ducking his head a little bit. His mount lagged behind Kurogane's for a pace, as the kozelorug navigated over a thin trickling stream of icemelt. When they came abreast again, he must have regained his courage; he asked in a slightly aggrieved voice, "How long has this been going on? Since we first arrived in Ceres, or...?"

"Since well before that, actually," Kurogane admitted. When he thought back on it, it had probably started as soon as he'd seen a shock of pale-white hair in the mud and char following a demon attack, although he hadn't realized it right away. It had taken another night battle to realize that - the night Fai had turned on him, tried to kill him, and in spite of everything Kurogane still hadn't been able to look at him as an enemy. "Last fall. We met while I was on patrol, and he helped me hunt some demons." That was the extremely abridged version, anyway.

"That long? Even before the war?" Syaoran's embarrassment turned to shock. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because it was none of your business," Kurogane snarled, his hackles raised by Syaoran's accusatory tone.

It had never exactly been a secret; he'd told Tomoyo everything, and from there the stories had circulated outwards at court. Kurogane had no idea in what form the rumors might have made their way to the boy's ears, but he'd never tried to hide the truth. If Syaoran had ever asked, he would have told him outright, but he was not particularly inclined to volunteer information about his love life to his student.

"It was so my business," Syaoran protested vehemently. "I mean - Sensei - those wizards are our enemies! Our enemies, I mean, Nihon's enemies. Wizards like him killed thousands of our people, and you were having an - an - an affair with one of those perverts? I would definitely say that was my business!"

"Don't talk about things you don't understand, kid," Kurogane growled. He ground his teeth, trying to step down on his seething rage. This was the other reason he hadn't cared to bring up the subject with Syaoran - even now, he was still full of inflammatory antagonism. He had no right to insult Fai, not after what Fai had gone through at the hands of Nihon's true enemies. While the other wizards were fighting a war, Fai had been a hundred ri away being tortured by the master of demons - and why the hell should he have to justify all this to Syaoran anyway? The kid had never so much as faced an enemy in battle. He turned his back on Syaoran, and encouraged his leggy mount a few steps away.

"How am I supposed to understand if you won't tell me anything?" Syaoran shouted at his back. "What am I supposed to understand? That after all the talk you gave me about keeping it in my pants, you've been fooling around with one of those unnatural - from what the palace servants say about him, he isn't even completely human! What does that make you? They say that he drinks human blood! How could you even consider -"

Kurogane abruptly pulled up to a stop, his kozelorug snorting and baying in distinctly un-horse-like indignation as it danced for footing on the unsteady ground. Kurogane turned in his saddle to glare at his student. From the way Syaoran's angry red flush paled to a sickly green, and he sank down in his own saddle as though melting, his face must have been a picture.

"I told you it was none of your godsdamned business what happened between him and me," he growled, menace dripping off his words. "It never had anything to do with the godsdamned war, and all through that stinking disaster of a campaign he stayed faithful to his loyalty oaths, as I did to mine. You can't possibly know what he sacrificed, for our sake as well as his own, and I don't want to hear another filthy word out of your mouth about him. In fact, you can damn well keep your mouth shut for the rest of the ride."

Syaoran opened his mouth to protest, but then some semblance of discipline must have kicked in, because he closed it again and gave a tiny nod, lowering his gaze once more to watch his mount's footing.

They crested the final ridge, and the land opened up below them alarmingly. Kurogane grabbed for a solid foothold, feeling his stomach plummet into the seemingly endless spaces below them; they seemed to teeter on a rocky peak no wider than a knife blade. The mountains unfolded below them for miles and miles, steep bare rock diving into milder, rolling meadows and then disappearing below marching ranks of coniferous forest. From there the mountains heaved up a time or two, buckled ridges of rock showing bald glimpses of hill-top before plunging back into the unbroken sea of shadowed green. Far away, almost beyond their sight in the failing afternoon light, the foothills finally smoothed into a faded dun tundra; at the very edge of the landscape, white sand glimmered like a pale ornament. Nowhere, in all the uncounted spaces that met their eyes, was there any sign of road or city; it was all trackless, unpeopled wilderness.

Getting down the other side of the ridge was even more nerve-wracking than getting up it had been, now that Kurogane had a clear view of exactly how far down they could fall if their footing slipped. The descent was made even more treacherous by the failing light; the sun sloped away west behind the ridge, throwing the rocks below their feet into early shadow and touching on only the highest peaks and ridges of stone.

During one heart-stopping leap from one rock to another, a piece of luggage - one of the cooking pans - jarred itself loose from Kurogane's saddlebags and became the first piece of cookware to achieve a dream of flight. Kurogane watched it glint briefly in the arcing sun, then quickly lost sight of its descent among the shadowed crevices of the slope below them. When he finally heard thebang of its landing drift faintly up from far below, Kurogane decided that enough was enough.

The first relatively wide, flat shelf of solid ground they came to, Kurogane called a halt. There was a tiny trickle of snowmelt making its way down the center, and even some scrubby wooded herbs in the sheltered lee of the cliffside. Not the best campsite Kurogane had ever stayed in, but the best they were likely to find at this altitude.

Syaoran protested the halt, shaking out of the grim silence they'd spent the descent in. "But we've only been going a few hours!" he pleaded. "It's not even dark yet. At this rate we'll never get there in time. We can't stop now!"

"We can and we will," Kurogane said in a tone of voice that prevented argument. "The sky may still be light, but even these beasts will stumble and break their necks if they try to navigate this slope in the dark. If you want to make it to the foothills in one piece - and not under an avalanche - we're stopping here."

Kurogane was firm, and Syaoran subsided reluctantly. Truthfully, the boy was almost stumbling from weariness as he dismounted; the climb over the ridge had been grueling. The kid had grit, Kurogane couldn't deny that; he was on fire with the idea of riding to Sakura's rescue, and was willing to push his body far beyond its limits to accomplish that. But he was still just a kid; youthful vigor could go a long way, but it was no substitute for knowing how to pace yourself, and the long endurance of experience.

They made camp; with Syaoran released from Kurogane's stern order of silence, they exchanged a few curt words around the stone ring Kurogane built for their campfire, before striding off along the shelf into underbrush to look for suitable firewood.

Now that he had his feet on the ground again, Kurogane had more time to think, and reflect on his actions earlier. He'd overdone it, he admitted. Syaoran had been way out of line, but Kurogane should have been able to handle their argument better. He'd been taking out his own frustration and foul temper on the boy, and that wasn't fair, not when Syaoran hadn't even been the one to ask him to come along.

He came back to the campsite with an armful of wood, and saw Syaoran sitting next to the saddlebags, staring out into the eastern sky as though his sight could pierce the growing dark to find what he so desperately sought. His knees were drawn up to his chest, arms folded across them, and there was such a painful look of longing on his face that Kurogane couldn't help but be moved. Poor kid, he really had it bad.

"I fell in love," he said, breaking the silence; Syaoran jumped and turned to him as he dropped the armload of wood with a clatter on the floor. "I didn't expect to, I sure as hell never planned on it."

He sat down next to Syaoran; even sitting he loomed almost twice the boy's height. "But that's how it is," he said. "You don't get to decide who it's going to be. Maybe your best friend. Maybe your worst enemy. Maybe even your worst enemy's daughter. It just happens."

For a moment Syaoran looked completely flummoxed; but then understanding lit in his eyes and washed over his features like dawn. "And when you're in love," he whispered, "you'd do anything for that person. Anything at all."

Kurogane looked down. "Yeah," he said. Even find yourself out on a journey in the middle of nowhere, not knowing where you're going or why, just because he begged you to trust him. Even that.

"I understand now," Syaoran said in a small voice, and he stared at the ground. "I'm sorry - for what I said before. About you, and about him. I - I didn't have the right."

Kurogane nodded, though he wasn't sure Syaoran saw the gesture of acceptance, in the swiftly falling dusk. Instead, he reached out, and tousled Syaoran's hair so hard the boy almost fell over.

They built up the fire; not too high, since there wasn't too much fuel to be found, but enough to swiftly eclipse the fading daylight. The mountain brush smelled pungent, sharp and sweet, not like any evergreen wood that Kurogane had burned before. They ate dinner out of the leftover fresh food that the kitchen staff had pushed on them, which wouldn't keep for much longer on their journey. Already the civilized, orderly life of the palace seemed a long way away. The night was cold despite the lateness of the season and the stars, when they swung into view above, were dazzlingly bright.

"I sure hope you know where you're going, kid," Kurogane remarked as the hour grew later, and they arranged to trade watches. "This is all new territory to me."

"I know," Syaoran said in a voice of unshakeable confidence. "I've never been this way before either, but I know where we're going in the end. The desert is due east of the mountains; the rain that blows from the ocean can't get over the mountains, so it's dry most of the year there."

"Don't know why you're so sure the desert is where she is, anyway," Kurogane said bluntly, taking another bite of his food and chewing. He might be out here on the strength of his promise to Fai, but he saw no reason to dissemble or hide his doubts about the whole expedition.

Strangely enough, Syaoran smiled. It was a sweet, happy smile in the smoky firelight. "It was the smell," he said.

"What?" Kurogane asked.

Syaoran closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply through his nose. "I didn't realize it at first," he said. "It wasn't something I consciously recognized at the time; I couldn't figure out why I kept remembering images of the years I spent in Clow. It took me all today to figure out what was triggering those memories. It was the smell. When the portal opened into Sakura's room, a gust of air came through it… and the air had that same smell, of the high desert at noon. There's no way to describe it - you'd just know it if you'd been there, you could never mistake it for anywhere else."

"Huh." Kurogane's brows drew down, and he took another bite, staring into the darkness to the east. He sniffed deeply, as though he could catch that elusive fragrance, but he could smell nothing except the pungent scent of their campfire. This was news. As evidence went, it wasn't much better than "I had a feeling," and yet…

"Besides," Syaoran added, "It's the same direction as my feeling is pointing. It can't be a coincidence."

Kurogane snorted and rolled his eyes. "So you've got a feeling and another feeling. Great."

"I'm not making things up!" Syaoran protested, looking wounded. "I'm not imagining it. It's real!"

"Yeah, I'm sure you're not," Kurogane said, waving his hand. "Look, get some sleep, okay, kid? We'll want to start out early as we can tomorrow morning."

The stars shone brilliantly overhead, shedding their clear and remote light over every country just the same.

The scream that rent the night air jerked all of Shirasagi castle awake. Guards and soldiers scrambled for their emergency posts, while servants and officials rushed in sleep-clouded circles, trying to make out the source of the disturbance. Empress Amaterasu, however, lost no time in identifying the source of the scream; already she jerked a heavy robe on over her sleeping gown as she strode out of her inner rooms surrounded by a cloud of attendants. Although no one in the court had ever heard it before, that rough, unpracticed voice, Amaterasu knew the sound of her sister's scream.

She burst into Tomoyo's sleeping chamber to find the place in chaos: a few hastily lit lamps threw wild shadows on the walls. Tomoyo's scream had died down to a furious sobbing, and the high priestess sat bolt upright on her bedding, rocking back and forth as she shuddered with uncontrollable weeping. Almost drowning out was the bewildered cacophony of the servants, some of them hovering uncertainly, others shaking Tomoyo's sleeve and pestering her with questions.

Kendappa shoved them all impatiently aside; she knew of only one thing that could afflict her sister so in the dead of night, and it was no ordinary nightmares that could do this. "Are we under attack?" she demanded, getting to the most salient point immediately. "Is there danger to the Empire?"

Tomoyo shook her head no, but she couldn't seem to stop the weeping; she brought both hands up to cover her face, and long shudders wracked her slender body even thought the air in the room was quite warm.

Kendappa was at a loss; she'd never seen her sister so close to hysterics. Tomoyo was usually the cool one, the composed and deliberate balance to her own occasional fiery bursts of impulse. Despite her supposed status as the living avatar of Amaterasu, Kendappa had never had much aptitude for the supernatural; she was grateful enough to leave that province to her sister and focus on the mundane world. But while she knew the world of spirits and visions had its own dangers and terrors, she had never seen Tomoyo so profoundly distressed by a dream vision as now.

"Tomoyo," she called, placing a calming hand on the young woman's trembling shoulder. He soft calls did not seem to register, and Kendappa's alarm grew; she shifted around and gripped both her sister's shoulders, shaking her fiercely and calling out in a strong voice. "Tsukuyomi! What visions do you see?"

"A doorway," Tomoyo answered, her mental 'voice' unbroken by her continued sobbing, yet reverberating with shock and distress all the same. "A doorway in the sky! No, no, it is terrible! Such a thing should not be, it should not be!"

"A doorway in the sky?" Kendappa repeated aloud, mystified. She was no expert in interpreting symbology, but Tomoyo's visions were not normally so... abstract.

"Something terrible has happened," Tomoyo said, her sobs finally beginning to slow, although she continued crying silently."Something terrible is happening even now. This vision, I have never seen it before, but now it crowds out my sight, overwhelms all other futures. Oh, oh... something is horribly wrong, to let this future ever be!"

Kendappa's frown deepened. "Something terrible has happened already? Or is it still in the future?" she tried to parse out, but Tomoyo only shook her head, tears rolling down her face. "What in the seven hells is a doorway in the sky, anyway?" she demanded, exasperation and anxiety getting the better of her patience.

"I do not know," Tomoyo said, slowly regaining her composure. "It does not belong here, it is nothing of this world. There is a terrible light from behind the door, brighter than a thousand suns, but like the light of no heavenly body. I can barely see it, from a crack around the door. But when it opens... oh, my sister, when it opens, then all futures end. There is nothing beyond it - worse than nothing, the end of all things!"

Kendappa stared at Tomoyo, temporarily shocked into silence. The end - of all things?

Before Kendappa could collect her wits, there was a flurry of commotion at the doorway, and then the attendants backed away as her half-brother strode through the curtained entrance. "Touya!" Kendappa said in shock, then her temper flared as she rose to her feet. "How dare you show such presumption! You are not even permitted to set foot in the inner palace, let alone the priestess' private chambers -"

"This is not a time to worry about such inconsequential proprieties," Touya said in a flat, unyielding tone of voice. "Let alone rehash old grudges." Behind him, the woman attendants fluttered and voiced their outrage at his intrusion, but none of them dares to push him away; Souma ghosted into view behind him, raising an eyebrow at her mistress for instructions, but Kendappa hesitated, then motioned her back. This was not a normal night, by any stretch of the imagination.

Ignoring her, Touya knelt on the raised platform by Tomoyo's bed and looked her in the eye. "You felt it, didn't you? Felt the future change?"

Tomoyo nodded tearfully, and her purple eyes clouded as her lips set in a grim line. Touya voiced a grim chuckle. "No, because it was never a true future until today," he said. "But after today, unless we can pull off a miracle, it will be the only future."

Tomoyo blinked, then her eyes widened as Touya stood up and stepped away. It took Amaterasu several moments to catch on to what had shocked her sister so; Touya had heard and answered her voice, but she had not been touching his skin.

"There's someone you need to talk to," he said, and he held out an arm, almost as though inviting an unseen guest to step out of the air. And judging by Tomoyo's startled gasp, and the strange heavy shimmer that appeared between them, she wasn't sure that wasn't exactly what it was.

"What's going on?" Amaterasu demanded, her temper flaring when neither of her siblings acknowledged her. "Touya! Answer me! What sorcery is this? What new treason are you planning now?"

Touya glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyes narrowed, then gave a little shrug of his shoulder. "I came to see Tomoyo," he said, "but you need to hear this, too. The time for petty partisanship is over, Kendappa."

He reached out before she could recoil away, and gripped her hand, only grinning at her outrage. "Don't look so shocked," he said. "You cansee, if you will look. Whether or not you ever wanted to acknowledge the power within yourself, you have always been Tomoyo's sister... and mine."

Protests rose to her lips, but before she could voice them, his grip shifted until their bare fingers brushed, and she felt a cold shock as his power washed through her - through both of them. All three of them saw the gray figure flicker to life in front of them, clear and distinct in detail yet somehow insubstantial.

The figure blinked pale yellow eyes at her in seeming astonishment, and Kendappa gasped in recognition. "It's you!" she said. The foreign wizard - the one who had led his uncanny troop to the defense of Kishuu shrine when the demons had threatened to overrun the walls. The strange, white, beautiful young man who had spent far too much time in her brother's company before he departed, last and reluctantly, through the now-destroyed portal. In spite of her misgivings, a surge of hope sprang up in Kendappa's breast; did he come again to bring aid in a similarly dark hour?

"Greetings, my lady. My ladies." The ethereal figure bobbed a short bow towards each of them, evidently thrown off-balance by Kendappa's inclusion in the conversation. "I must apologize for this rude intrusion. If time were not so short, I would never wish to forego the honor of a state visit."

"Mage of Ceres," Tomoyo addressed him in a shaking voice from Touya's other side. "I have seen a vision of the future that I have never dreamed before, that I do not fully understand, and yet it terrifies me. My brother tells me that you are a dreamseer, too. Have you seen it too? Have you, too, dreamed of this terrible doorway in the sky?"

"Yes, I have seen it." Yukito closed his eyes and shook his head before he continued; and Kendappa noticed for the first time his haggard appearance, clothes in disarray, pale eyes reddened with fatigue. "It was always a possibility, but one so remote and unlikely that it never featured heavily in my visions. Now... now the circumstances have changed, and what was once thought impossible becomes imminent."

"What happened?" Kendappa demanded. "What 'circumstances' do you speak of?"

Yukito was silent for a moment, then took a deep breath and continued. "Something precious was stolen from us in Ceres two nights ago," he said. "Something so valuable that we devoted all our lives to guarding it and keeping it unseen, yet his eyes slipped past our notice all the same. Now he has it, the one thing he was lacking to open the final doorway. We must find this precious thing, recover it quickly, before the future your sister sees comes to pass."

"Stop speaking in riddles," Kendappa said impatiently. "What is this 'precious thing?' We can hardly search for it if we don't even know what we're looking for!"

Yukito glared at her, but Kendappa returned the glare immovably. Yukito bit his lip, seeming to steel himself up for something, then said, "Princess Sakura. King Ashura's daughter, his only child." He stretched out his hands, and the faint picture of a young girl seemed to swirl up between them; like himself, the image was faded and transparent, but her features were distinct. A wide face, open with the innocence of youth, above a slender, gawky teenage body. Faded light brown hair, pale skin, and green eyes. A northerner, without a doubt, but one they had never seen or heard of before.

A ripple of surprise passed through the royal siblings. "Princess?" Kendappa said. "Since when did Ashura have a daughter? We had always heard that his wife passed away without bearing him any children, and he always refused to remarry thereafter." They'd been counting on it, in fact, when planning their conquest of Ceres. After all, Ashura was over seventy years of age; the fewer royal heirs to challenge their overlordship, the better.

"Her existence was a closely kept secret, even in Ceres itself," Yukito admitted; it seemed to be difficult for him to discuss the subject even now. "Precisely because we knew, from the auguries surrounding her birth, that a powerful enemy would be seeking her. As he was. We can't be sure how he learned of her location at last… but it's too late now. Secrecy is of no use to us any longer."

"Who is this he?" Kendappa demanded in exasperation. "What, you mean the Master of Demons? He's dead!"

"The maker of demons was but a servant," Tomoyo said in a near-whisper. She and Yukito shared a glance, and the vision seemed to appear between them - seen but not seen - of a sinister emblem, wings of black shadow rippling across a field of light. "It is his master that we now must fear. He has never interfered directly before, but... I think... our time of respite is now over."

Yukito nodded gravely to her. "I fear so."

"If this just happened the night before, then they can't have gone far!" Kendappa interjected. "Do you have no trackers? The trail should be barely hours cold!"

"Because our enemy is a warlock," Yukito said patiently. "There was no trail to follow, believe me. We tried our best to trace the origin of the portal, but he is a master at hiding his tracks."

Warlock? Portal? The unfamiliar terms filled Kendappa with bewilderment, and for the first time Touya spoke.

"A warlock is one who practices the art of conjuration," he said, turning to meet Kendappa's gaze. "Which is to say, he can create portals - doorways in space that can move great distances in the blink of an eye. He can snatch a person - or an object - and leave no trail, or send a deadly weapon through the other side. That was how he stole away the Princess from her very own chamber, where she should have been safest."

"What? That's impossible," Kendappa scoffed.

"It is not, dear sister," Tomoyo interceded, leaning out from Touya's other side. "He has done it once before... on another night when I awoke weeping from a vision."

Kendappa met her sister's violet eyes, and the memory rang between them - the night that Suwa had been destroyed. The only survivor had spoken - somewhat incoherently - about a sword and a hand that appeared from nowhere and murdered his mother, leading to the collapse of the wards. Kendappa had always assumed that trauma and grief had warped his memory and he simply did not want to remember the traitor who had struck the Suwa miko down. But now, she realized, Tomoyo had never thought so.

"And it is for the same reason that we cannot find them now," Yukito resumed his explanation, startling Kendappa out of her memories. "A warlock with such disregard for space and distance could be anywhere - do you understand me? Literally anywhere. He could be on a high mountaintop with no approachable passes, or an island thousands of miles out to sea. We don't even know where to begin to search for him."

"What do you want us to do about it?" Kendappa asked. "If you - with all your wizards and magic - cannot find him, then what hope do we have?"

"I don't know what you can do," Yukito said with some aggravation. "I'm not - this isn't some great plan of mine. You have far more manpower to spare than we do, your territory is much greater. Search for him if you can, with whatever means you can. He must be found, his plans mustbe stopped, whatever it takes."

"I will search as best I can, Seer of Ceres," Tomoyo said steadily, although her voice faltered a moment later. "I will bring to bear every weapon I have, however weak. Although I think - I think perhaps all unknowing - my blackest arrow has already been loosed from my bow."

Yukito looked at her, and then a small smile appeared on his face. "I do believe you are right," he said. "He left the castle yesterday afternoon, with all our best wishes, and has since passed out of my sight."

A feeling of agitation was building in Kendappa's chest. From the way this conversation was shaping up, it sounded like some dire thing - something bad enough to send her sister screaming out of nightmares - could happen at any moment. Worse, it was beginning to sound like they weren't planning to do a damn thing to stop it.

"Why did you even come here tonight if there's nothing you can do, and nothing we can do either?" she demanded.

A flash of anger sparked in those faded yellow eyes. "Because something of this importance should not be kept a secret," he snapped in return. "Whether there is something you can do or not, you deserve to know all that we know... so that you can prepare yourselves for what is coming."

With some difficulty, he managed to control his irritation, and gave them both a short, jerky bow. "My apologies, great ladies, but my time here must be short," he said. "There are too many teetering disasters demanding my attention right now to linger, and things will only worsen over the next few weeks. I do not think we shall be able to speak again. I wish all of you the very best of luck, but be aware that the wizards of Ceres will not be able to help you."

With that, he vanished, leaving the three royal siblings clutching at each other's hands and staring at the empty space.

"Help us?" Kendappa said aloud. "Help us with what?"

After breakfast Fei Wong Reed returned, and escorted her personally back into the chapel, the huge stone chamber that she'd been brought to first. This time, she was able to look around her with avid interest; the arching bubble of the stone ceiling above was huge, making her feel almost dizzy just looking up. However, it was not merely the size of the stonework that made her stop in her tracks, but the familiar-looking patterns that glowed in a dull orange lattice in response to Fei Wong Reed's upraised hand.

"Those are wards!" Sakura said with surprise. It excited her, to be able to recognize even the basic form of a magical spell. She'd studied some very basic wards before her magical lessons were brought to an end, and she'd watched the wizards in her home create them from time to time, but she'd never seen anything of this scale. The orange-glowing lines arced overhead like comet trails, looping gracefully from one end of the stone shell to the other. "This whole room is warded! That's amazing!"

"Yes, it is," Fei Wong Reed said. Something about his tone of voice made her look closely, and then gasp in astonishment; the stoic man was actually smiling faintly, as if amused by her open-mouthed wonder.

"But why?" Sakura asked, walking to the center of the room and turning in a circle, her head cranked back to see the designs. "Why go to so much trouble to protect this whole space? It must have taken so much time, and - and power!"

"It is necessary," Fei Wong Reed said in a grave voice, the faint smile evaporating as though it had never been. "You must not underestimate how dangerous it is to work with the being of the world-shell itself. It is not something to be undertaken lightly. The natural patterns of the world should not be taken for granted, and they do not like to be disturbed. Seemingly small movements of air, or of the deep currents of the earth, could result in a vast tempest. Any space where conjuration will be performed must be surrounded with the very strongest of protections, so that the working will not spill over to harm others."

"Oh," Sakura said, quelled. Then another thought occurred to her. "I didn't - I didn't know it was so dangerous. If the wards keep the power inside from getting out, then will we really be safe in here?"

"There is no need to apologize," Fei Wong Reed said. "And it is important to know what you face. There is great danger to be found in world-working, but unimagined power as well. There is always some danger involved in a great adventure, but the rewards will be more than worth it. If you wish to make an impression upon the world, you cannot hide timidly in a corner, letting hesitation and timidity paralyze you."

Sakura lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. "I'm not afraid," she said firmly. "Let's - let's get started."

With Fei Wong Reed's hand on her upper back, between her shoulders, he guided her to the stone edifice that loomed above her. It was a multi-layer construction of different kinds of stone and, she realized as her foot rang with vibrations on a step, metal too. At the top of the steps perched a boulder of obsidian, carved into the form of a throne, but its shape was little more than an afterthought, simply the suggestion of a seat hollowed out of the rock and rough walls where the arms would be.

Fei Wong Reed's hand gave her a little push, and she took a deep breath and climbed up into the seat. The polished stone was smooth as water, not in the least bit scratchy, but it was also cold, and seemed to drink up the heat of her skin without warming in the slightest. Sakura found herself shivering again. "Can - can I bring a sweater next time?" she asked, barely changing her question from asking if she could go get one now. She didn't want him to think she was backing out.

"I'm afraid not," he said imperturbably. "I apologize for the discomfort, but is necessary for the throne to have some contact with your skin. Do not worry. The cold will not bother you for long."

Sakura didn't find this comment very heartening, but she decided she could stand a little cold. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her back until she was leaning against the hard slab of stone, and raised her arms to place her hands upon the armrests. "What should I do now?" she asked nervously. Despite Fei Wong Reed's constant assurances, she couldn't shake the persistent feeling that he was wrong about her; that she was nothing special, and that he would be disappointed in her when he found out she couldn't do anything.

"Close your eyes and breathe deeply," the magician's deep, measured voice came from behind her. "Concentrate on the meditation exercises that you had already learned in your magical studies, and repeat the mantra that I taught you."

Sakura nodded and shut her eyes tight, squeezing her lids until she saw stars in the darkness behind them. It was hard to clear her mind of thoughts and distractions like her mentor had taught her when she was so excited and nervous and whirling with new thoughts and sights and experiences, but she tried.

She tried so hard to think of nothing, that for a long moment she couldn't remember the words that he'd given her to say. "I will r- I will raise my eyes to pierce the veil," she said in a shaky voice, that strengthened as she went on. "I will raise my arms to touch the sta - the spaces between the stars. I will not be bound to this earthly body. I will raise my eyes to piece the veil. I will raise my arms to touch the spaces between the stars. I will not be bound to this earthly body..."

As she gained confidence in the mantra, she felt herself relaxing, and she almost didn't notice when the cold, sucking drain of the stone on her skin ceased to bother her. She felt a warm, bright tingling in her fingertips, and even more surprisingly, it seemed to be matched by an answering spark from deep inside herself, under her breastbone and above her belly button.

Sakura's eyes flew open, and she gasped. The dark stone of the obsidian throne was shining with a hundred tiny specs, like dancing fireflies. Not only that, but ahead of her, the vast blank disk of dark grey stone was beginning to coruscate with a strange, otherworldly aurora of colors. Blue-orange and red-purple seemed to dance across it in waves, and the solid stone itself seemed to cloud with uncertainty.

"Close your eyes, Sakura!" Fei Wong Reed's voice thundered from behind her, and she gasped as she quickly squeezed them shut again. "Concentrate on your mantra. What you seek is not here, in this room. You must raise your eyes beyond the veil of this world and pierce the space behind the stars!"

Sakura bit her lip, then hurriedly resumed her whispering mantra. She realized she was shivering again, not from cold - the stone under her back and arms felt curiously warm now - but from excitement and fear. She wasn't going to be able to do it - she didn't even know what she was trying to do. Fei Wong Reed was going to be so disappointed when he realized she was just an ordinary girl after all, so disappointed when it turned out that she couldn't do anything, help anyone after all. He was going to be so scornful, so freezingly cold…

No! She couldn't be afraid. Fear would paralyze her, he'd been right about that, she'd spent all her life cowering in fear. I will do it. I will! She shoved her fear to the corner of her mind, and bent all her concentration to the elusive fluttering lights that she felt against her skin. The tingling spread up her arms and legs until it met in a nauseating swirl in her middle, then in a bubbling rush spread up through the top of her head to her eyes.

The world seemed to tilt around her, as though gravity had shifted on its axis. Sakura couldn't help herself; but when she opened her eyes again, she saw not the grim dark stone of the inside of the chapel, but a field of glittering stars.

"Ohhh… How lovely!" Sakura couldn't help the exclamation of wonder, although even as it slipped past her lips, she could still hear her own voice in endless, droning repetition. I will not be bound to any earthly body. I will raise my eyes to pierce the veil. I will lift my arms to touch the spaces between the stars…

Instinctively she tried to lift her hand to catch one of the floating lights, but she couldn't move. Instead, as she strained to focus on one of the bright points, it seemed to rush towards her as though she were zooming towards it, although she did not seem to move from her vantage point. The point of light grew to a tiny ball, then a sphere the size of her hand, and as she stared into it she caught flickering glimpses of a strange, unknown landscape below. White-tipped waves blowing on a strangely yellow-green sea, and craggy mountains topped with red.

She blinked; that seemed to destroy the tenuous connection, and the point of light slipped away. When she moved her gaze to a new one, it pulsed and drew closer in turn. This time she caught a glimpse of a bright, blue-white sunrise over the tossing treetops of an endless, silver-leaved forest.

"Are these all - other worlds?" she whispered in amazement, still hearing the ceaseless soundless chant in the background. I will lift my arms to touch the spaces between the stars. I will not be bound to any earthly body… "All of them? Whole worlds full of life and people, just like ours?"

But they weren't like hers. Once again she lost her tenuous attention on the point of light, and it flitted away from her. She began to move her attention from one remote, tiny pinpoint to the next, straining to bridge the gap between them. They were not like her world at all. Many of them showed only bare, flat rock instead of waves of water or trees. One or two showed tiny, crawling figures of moving animals, but even from this distance she knew that they were like no animals she had ever seen or read about before. Some of the tiny, floating lights did not even seem to have a ground and a sky at all. And all of them, strange or familiar or too bizarre for her stunned mind to comprehend, had nothing that felt like other people.

The field of stars swirled around her, and she was beginning to feel dizzy and sick with the vertiginous motion. There, on the very horizon of her sight - those tiny, shining, remote pinpricks. There were people there, humans like her, like them, faces and voices and bodies like she was used to. But they were so far away that neither her voice nor her vision could reach them, though she strained until the endless space around her was tinted red.

"Sakura." The voice made her jump; it took her a disorienting moment to even identify where it had come from. It was Fei Wong Reed's voice, sounding strangely flat and tinny and completely lacking the sonorous rumble she was used to. "Turn your face away from them, Sakura. They do not concern you. You must return now, and break the connection. Ignore them, Sakura, and return to me!"

"But -" Sakura was startled into speaking aloud, and as soon as she did, the monotonous mantra of her own voice suddenly ceased. The vision of the field of stars around her shattered, falling into a thousand dark and bright pieces to a space beyond her reach. Her vision crowded instead with the musty dark stone walls of the chapel, where she had started. She saw once again the stone disk before her, writhing in roiling waves of cloudy colors that faded into dull stone even as she watched.

As she blinked to clear her eyes, she became aware of a number of things. The first was that she was no longer cold in the slightest; in fact, the black glassy rock of the throne had become almost uncomfortably warm to the touch, and she was sweating in rivulets. Her voice was hoarse from chanting, and when she tried to speak, she coughed.

"What - what happened?" she whispered. She tried to pull away from the hot stone, but she felt almost too weak to move. "I saw… All those beautiful lights…"

"You have seen beyond the boundaries of this world," Fei Wong Reed said from behind her, and his voice had regained its accustomed deep resonance. "There are few enough humans who have the power to go beyond the veil and return; you are beyond honored, Sakura. But you must cease for now."

"But why?" she wanted to know. "There was so much to see - I was only there for a few minutes..."

He pulled her to her feet with an effortless movement, and Sakura gasped; steam rose from where she had been sitting. "The throne draws power from the crucible, far underground," he explained to her. "It provides the necessary power to pierce beyond the boundaries of the world, but at the same time it is volatile, dangerous. Even filtered by the throne, the human body can only channel so much of it at a time."

"But I didn't find what you were looking for," Sakura protested, feeling anxious and ashamed. "The - the White God you were talking about. I didn't sense anything like that from the worlds I looked at…"

"You will find her," Fei Wong Reed assured her confidently. "You have made a good start, to uplift yourself beyond the boundaries of the world at all. Today it is time to rest. Tomorrow, you can try again."

Dazed, she let him help her down from the throne. She could barely walk; she felt sick to her stomach, and her head hurt unbearably. Despite that, she wanted nothing more than to go back, to find that field of stars again. "I heard them," she said. "I could see other lights, so far away, they had people in them - I wanted to call out to them -"

They stopped moving. She blinked water from her eyes and looked up at Fei Wong Reed, who was frowning. "Do not concern yourself with those worlds," he said in a severe tone. "They are too distant for communication or travel, and at any rate, we have no interest in other humans. You must concentrate your thoughts only upon finding the White God. It is for that reason and no other that we are here. Remember that."

Aching and exhausted, Sakura let him lead her out of the chapel, and handed her over to the care of some of the women servants in black. She stumbled back to her sleeping chamber barely able to place one foot in front of the other, hearing and seeing nothing until she fell into the soft covers of her bed.

As she lay waiting for sleep, however, her thoughts returned unbidden to those other worlds - the ones with the human voices, the ones too far for her to ever reach. Unexpectedly she felt the pain of loss, of something precious that she would never have the chance to know; and the tears followed her into sleep.

Chapter Text

The old castle was in ruins, far more decrepit and decayed than its age should have allowed. It had only been forty years since it had been abandoned, Fai thought, as his feet lighted on the top stairs leading up to the main gate, but it looked like no one had lived there for centuries.

Certainly the old king had done little to maintain the property in the last years of his madness, and its invasion and siege at the hands of Ashura's army hadn't been good for it either. Nor had the riots that followed, well after everyone in the palace was long gone or dead. Fai had only heard about those, not seen them first hand, but he could see the evidence of destruction on the walls and paving stones; the entire place had been sacked, everything of even marginal value looted, and that which was not valuable was torn down or fired. Not the depredation of invaders but the unleashed fury of Valeria's own people had destroyed this place.

The Viceroy of Ceres hadn't even bothered trying to take possession of the crumbled ruins; the provincial Ceresian government had built a new block of buildings on the other side of the capital, and ruled from there. Not only did he thus avoid the hubris of setting himself up as a king of this conquered land, but he avoided the stigma associated with the tainted blood of the old royal family - Fai's family.

At least, Fai thought as he strode forward across the cracked paving stones, he was unlikely to be interrupted. It was not just the decimation of the riots; there was an unhealthy aura about the place, something rotten and foul hovering about the crannies and corners. No subject of Valeria came here anymore, and Fai didn't blame them.

He hesitated for a long moment in the court, at the shadowed patch of stone beneath the remains of the castle's tallest tower. Reluctantly, though, he shook his head and hurried on, a sharp breeze whipping the ends of his hair into his face as he bent his head against it. He was here on business, today, not to indulge old morbid fascinations.

His destination lay not in the ruined keep itself, but in the extensive green grounds attached to it, past the stables and gardens that once would have been maintained to provide fodder for the castle in case of siege. They were overgrown with moss, now, weeds and briars choking the once carefully tended beds, but there was less evidence of looting here; there was nothing to steal, and little that would burn.

He arrived in the great cemetery tucked behind the hill of the keep. Most of the marble monuments were swallowed by grass; only the greater mausoleums still stood. Fai had never been here before; he studied the curling Valerian script on nameplate as he walked the rows between the graves, looking for the one he sought.

At last he found the right one, a large and imposing mass of marble. For a monarch, even a fallen one, it was humble; yet considering how feared and hated the old king had been amongst the people of Valeria, it was a testament only to Ashura's firm discipline that even this monument had been erected to house his body. Ashura sympathized with the suffering of the Valerian people, but was firmly of the opinion that a king - even an evil one - must be afforded dignity, lest the people lose all respect for the kingship. And so he had built this crypt to house the last dead king of Valeria, and ordered a death sentence on any would-be grave robbers who thought to despoil it.

A ghost of a smile twitched its way across Fai's face, then vanished. Which was precisely what he was here to do, wasn't it?

The slab of stone blocking the door was solid and heavy, but Fai's demon-granted strength was enough to move it aside. The gust of air that came up from inside, fetid with the breath of the grave, was enough to send him shivering all over and darkened his vision with old terror, but he clenched his teeth together and forced himself to step down into the crypt.

Inside, it wasn't quite as bad as he'd thought. The doorway let in plenty of light, and left a clear path of escape for the twitching muscles that demanded he flee. The crypt itself wasn't large; only the marble walls and a small area of bare sanded floor, and the plinth on which the old king's coffin lay.

He heaved aside the heavy stone lid, and the body within was revealed. Although Fai had steeled himself for emotionless detachment - he'd handled many dead bodies over the years, in various stages of decomposition - he still couldn't stop the shudder that went up his backbone as the light spilled over the skull within, draped with cobwebs, decaying flesh, and the rusted remains of his burial jewelry.

For a fascinated moment he studied the skull, the face that he barely remembered from his early childhood as anything more than a long flowing beard under a heavy crown. He could almost see the resemblance, in the cheekbones and jaw, of his own face to his father's.

No, he shook his head sharply, to the king's. He had vowed to be very careful, even in his own thoughts, to maintain that distance; to think 'the old king,' and nothing else. Truly, the only man who had ever been a father to him was Ashura; and it was for Ashura's sake that he'd come.

Taking a deep, careful breath, Fai straightened up and set to work. From an insulated compartment of his bag he drew out his materials, and scattered them in a careful circle around the coffin. They scattered with the sound of dry snakeskin slithering, and Fai began to chant the words of the incantation, drawing the bright rune-words in the air above.

His thoughts calmed and settled as he became more involved with the ritual; although he'd never been fond of necromancy as a discipline, the practice of magic always helped him feel more grounded and centered. It provided an order to his world, and a reassurance that he still had some power to wield in the face of fate.

At the same time, he really didn't like necromancy. It always felt like he was digging his fingers into something unclean, something soft and rotting, although the spell didn't require him to physically touch the corpse at all. The light streaming in through the open mausoleum door seemed to darken, and panic fluttered in his chest but couldn't make it past the intense wall of his concentration. Calling a spirit so old, so damaged back to its body was difficult, and he wasn't completely sure he'd be able to do it.

Necromancy, the art of summoning and speaking with the honored dead, had been developed in more than one culture before. It was a common human trait to want to be able to speak with those who had gone before, to consult with their wisdom and experience as well as to reassure themselves that there was still something for them after death. The usual rituals involved fresh sacrifices of animals - either burning the meat or spilling the blood on the ground - often mixed with sugar or alcoholic spirits to entice the desired ghost to draw near. It was not just magic but a cultural ritual for them, and it didn't always work; the ghost would often refuse to appear, either dissatisfied with the offerings or simply because it had already passed out of the world and on to the next life.

The wizards of Ceres had studied several different necromantic traditions, seeking the rules and structures behind the art and discarding aesthetic or useless elements. Sugar and blood were still present, mixed in with pungent smelling herbs and strewn into the magic circle and over the targeted corpse; but the power of the spell depended on the logos, the rule-words which defined and bound the spirits of the dead. The result was a streamlined, strengthened arcane magic which did not depend on the whimsy of spirits; as long as the ghost was still in the world and its body was available they could force it to appear, obey, and answer.

Perhaps that, Fai mused, was why necromancy was so distasteful to him; it turned what had once been a person into a thrall, chaining not only their body but their very soul to the will of the caster. The control was irresistible, absolute - as long as the will and the power of the summoner lasted. If he was not sufficiently strong of will, or if something happened to disrupt the ritual, then his own soul could be bound to the ghost that he sought to compel, ripped out of his body and dragged to the netherworld. It was the reason that very few of Fai's fellow wizards had delved too deeply into necromancy; besides himself, there were only one or two others with the skill to attempt a summoning this difficult. And no others with the right.

Luminescent green wisps swirled up from the marble floor like fog rising from a pool, flowing to cover the stone plinth and spill into the open coffin. Tiny, almost invisible sparks of darkness flickered through the currents of light as it absorbed the essence of the old king's bones. Then, with a wrenching wail that seemed to be dragged up from a bottomless cavern, both darkness and light rose up into the air before Fai, resolving into a miniature human figure hanging in the space above the coffin.

It was hard to pick out distinctive features; the image was distorted and grainy, like a print in a book that had long gone to mildew. The ghost of the old king writhed and gibbered, but there was no coherency or meaning in its speech. Fai felt a moment of doubt, and rechecked the boundaries of his spell, thinking he might have made a mistake; but no, the invocation was perfect. The ghost was simply lost to thought and language, as the old man himself had been before he died. Fai had not seen it, but he'd heard stories - how the old king's descent to madness had reached its final stage in the hours before his death, losing even the power of human speech and able to make no more than the guttural noises of an animal.

That was all right. The answers Fai had come for would not have come from the King of Valeria's mouth, after all. He spread his hands wide, holding the summoning with a corner of his attention while his hands began to weave the runes of a secondary spell inside it. This new invocation was pure wizardry, rune-words and formulas meant to address the weave of magic itself without having to interface with any contrary human spirits. It was a call for magic to reveal itself, to articulate and illuminate any past enchantments or spells attached to the decaying spirit.

The ribbon of white light spilled from his hands like a flowing stream of water, and spun around the ghost of the old king in a hazy cloud. Slowly it began to resolve itself, the dim luminescence coalescing into moiré patterns of bright lurid green.

Fai regarded those symbols grimly, their blazing green patterns blazed into his mind. He could have checked against the diagrams that he and Yukito had mapped out, in their grueling work over King Ashura's body in the sickroom in Ceres, but he didn't need to. They were the same. Exactly the same.

As the curse of madness, of consumption, had also been the same.

It was as he had suspected from the very first hour, but he had never been quite sure; he'd needed to confirm it, and now he had. Two rulers, two kingdoms, forty years apart, but the telltale residue of the enchantment used by the same. The one on Ashura was stronger; an improved version perhaps, with enough sheer magic poured into it to overpower even the stronger of wills, and the timeframe drastically compressed. But the corrosive effects of insanity, the degeneration of reason and the accelerated forces of avarice and hunger, were born of the very same curse, cast by the same wizard.

Our enemy, Fai thought. So it was him. Even back then, it was him. The master warlock who from hundreds of miles remote had murdered Kurogane's mother and exposed his home to the ravages of demons; who had stolen Sakura out of her very chambers. His fingerprints, his stench, was the same in every place they looked. And how many Valerian souls, slaughtered and rendered and ground into meal at the mad king's behest, had gone to feed the furnace of their enemy's power?

Enough of this; he had what he needed. Fai raised his hands and broke the humming invocation supporting the spells. First his finder-spell, the light scattering in all direction; then the summoning that constrained and manifested the ghost. The old man's gibbering face vanished in a puff of dust, and the daylight returned. Finally, Fai was able to spare a hand to wipe the streaming sweat from his face, stinging in his eyes.

Fai turned and walked out of the mausoleum, not even bothering to replace the coffin lid or the marble door. His head was swimming with the implications of what he'd just confirmed, still struggling to wrap his mind around the scale, the sheer audacity of what they'd stumbled into.

Demons in Suwa, cannibal kings in Valeria. In both cases he had stayed in the background and let others do his work; letting the Master of Demons hunt souls for him in Nihon, and the King of Valeria order his own subjects to the cooking pot here. Both projects had failed, his puppets brought down and killed, and yet their silent backer remained distant and unaffected, glutted with the harvested souls of his slaughtered victims.

Fai was willing to bet that was only the smallest part of their enemy's enterprise. Distance was nothing to a warlock; how many similar projects had he set up in other countries, Autozam, Hanshin, Clow, maybe even more distant still? He'd verifiably been active for at least fifty years, but that wasn't the sort of magic that you learned overnight; he must be far, far older than that. How long had this been going on, his hidden, subtle network extending through countless distances and years?

A human soul, he'd once told Kurogane, is the strongest natural source of magic in the world. How many centuries, from how many countries had their enemy been hoarding souls? Just how much power had he gathered by now?

Enough to destroy the world? Easily.

He barely noticed the ruins of the crumbling castle as he made his way back to the gates, still lost in thought. There was something else that worried him, a thought he'd barely dared to voice to his fellow wizards before he'd departed on this grisly errand.

There were many different kinds of magic in the world, some well understood, some not. That their enemy was a warlock was manifest in the astonishing control he'd shown over space and time, projecting portals across vast distances to pinpoint locations, and erasing his steps without a single link that could be traced back to him. Without a doubt he was powerful and knowledgeable, and yet...

The more learned a wizard became, the more they tended to specialize. It was not easy to master many different disciplines of magic, not only because of the sheer amount of study involved, but because it tended to shape one's entire worldview. Indeed, it was often easier for a beginning student of magic to switch between one type of magic and another, simply because they had less understanding of what they were doing.

Their enemy was a warlock, a master of distance, space, and the arcane fabric of reality. And yet the curse he had laid on the old king - and on Ashura - was a different order of magic altogether. It was a master's work, no question - invasive, irresistible, and cruel. And yet the modes of thought that must have gone into designing it were far different from that needed to produce a fixed portal over distance. It wasn't an arcane construction of space and time - it was more like a magical disease, a surgery of the human soul.

What that said to Fai was that there was not just one mind behind this invasive attack on the world, but two.

Or even - Fai glanced up at the sky, at the dark mass of thunderclouds that had been brewing high to the south for days now, faint flashes of green lightning playing over their heavy swells - three.

"There he is!"

Fai jerked his eyes down from the skyline, blinking rapidly as he refocused on his surroundings. He'd been so distracted by his worries that he hadn't even noticed where his feet were taking him; down the steps leading from the palace, into the plaza fronting the village with streets radiating out in all directions. Lost in thought, he'd walked right into the village itself without realizing it.

At least a dozen people were already gathered around the edge of the square, staring at him. A tow-headed boy of eight or nine, whose voice had jerked Fai out of his musings, was bobbing uncertainly around and behind an older man. He gripped his father's sleeve and pointed at Fai, saying in an excited voice: "I told you I saw someone moving up in the castle! I told you. The door was off the king's tomb!"

"Can't be him," the boy's father said, staring at Fai with an uneasy horror. "He's dead. Going forty years ago now. Besides, he's too young. Don't have a beard."

Fai's mind flashed back painfully to the memory of the desiccated corpse's face, the shape of the bones under the skull and his own face that he'd seen reflected there. They think I'm -

"It's not him," another voice called out. More and more people were crowded into the square now, drawn by the news of the strange activity in the castle, but nobody seemed to want to come too close. "Look at the clothes. It's one of them Ceres wizards. What's he doing here?"

He knew he'd been taking a risk by coming back to Valeria, but he'd never dreamed that people would have recognized him, gathered in a crowd so fast. He looked around for some sign of the Ceresian governors who controlled this town, but saw none; if they had been magically sensitive enough to detect his presence at all, they would know who he was, and would not interfere. "I am here on business for King Ashura," Fai said formally, but as soon as he spoke he knew it had been a mistake.

"It's his whelp!" an old woman from the back of the crowd shouted; at least fifty, sixty years she would have to be, to remember him. "The mad king's demon spawn! The twin what went off to be court Wizard for Ashura!"

The crowd burst into agitated, buzzing movement, like a hive of wasps disturbed by a stone. Fai felt sick inside, an icy hand clenching his throat and stomach like it would squeeze his insides up through his mouth. The villagers were everywhere, now; they were blocking all the roads except the one that led back up to the castle. "Please, step aside," he said, barely choking out the words. "I just want to leave -"

A rock came whizzing out of the crowd, and Fai had to duck aside, spinning to face the source of the missile. "Maggot spawn!" the woman screamed at him, old fear and hatred glittering in her eyes. "Leave now? You should never have come here in the first place! Your mother should have drowned you on the day you were born!"

As though her rock was a signal, more objects came whizzing out of the crowd; Fai dodged one, but the other struck him on his arm, a rotten piece of fruit that exploded onto his sleeve and chest. "It's your fault!" a male voice yelled, distorted by fury. "You drove the old king mad. You doomed all of us! It's all your fault!"

Fai ducked another bit of paving stone, and nearly doubled over to his knees with the agony that bubbled up inside his chest. They were right, he should never have come back here. He should never even have been born here…

There was - there was a world away from here, there were people who had never looked at him with disgust. He had to get back there, he had to get away from this place. Fai sprang to his feet, blue magic sizzling in his hands without any conscious recollection of calling it there. He incised a few bright runes in the air, and a sudden wall of wind sprang up, rolling outwards from him at the center and knocking the angry villagers back against the edge of the square. They cried out in fear and loathing, momentarily too cowed to resume their assault.

Fai wasn't finished. He turned in a tight circle, words of fire flowing from his fingertips, and then stretched his hands to the sky. The lines of spell-words spun around him, wrapping tight around his body and robes, and began to glow. Within seconds, the glow had spread to cover all his skin.

With a powerful thrust of his legs, Fai was airborne, his wings beating hard against the eddies and updrafts of his wind-spell. Within seconds he was out of arm's reach, in less than a minute well out of range of any thrown missiles. But he still couldn't escape the sound of their angry cries, floating up to him on the winds of Valeria; there was no place he could fly that was far enough to escape their condemnation and hate.

The great bird beat its wings once, twice, circling for the height needed to scale the mountains; and Fai was only glad that birds could not weep.

Sakura stumbled through the hallways, so exhausted that only the black-clad arm of the woman she was leaning on kept her upright. She ached all over; her head was pounding hard enough that her vision swam, and her skin felt stretched tight, until even the brush of her own clothing felt like sandpaper being dragged across her skin.

The woman who was escorting her - Sakura had trouble remembering everybody's name, they sounded so strange to her - made a concerned noise as Sakura missed a step and stumbled. "Princess?" the woman asked softly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Sakura said sturdily, trying to straighten herself up and move forward under her own power. "Just a headache." She didn't want anyone thinking that she couldn't do the job that had been asked of her.

The woman hmm'd softly, but tightened her grip on Sakura's arm reassuringly. "Well, we are almost at your bedroom," she said in a soothing, reassuring tone. "I will get you some juice to drink, and then I can brush your hair before you sleep, if you like."

"Oh, yes please," Sakura said gratefully. Brushing her hair was one of the things that her servants back in the palace had used to do for her, and she missed it. She was sure that this woman's hands would be as gentle and soothing as her manner.

The bedroom was blissfully dim, and it was a relief to collapse into the padded chair set up by her dresser. She sat there for long minutes, struggling not to let her head bob forward in sleep as the servant woman moved around her as softly as a shadow. She still felt uneasy in these quarters that had been assigned for her use, although they were grand and beautiful, and filled with plush, comfortable furniture. More than one night she'd lain in the grand bed and let tears leak into the pillowcase, thinking of her comfortable, familiar bedroom in Ruval, the dolls and furnishings that had been part of her life there. But she struggled not to show it; she didn't want anyone to think she was ungrateful for their hospitality.

The slight clink of a porcelain cup on the dresser woke her up, and she looked up into the mirror over the dresser to see the dark-haired woman standing beside her. "Now, drink all of that before you sleep, Princess," she said. "It will help your headache, and you must keep up your strength."

"Okay." Sakura picked up the cup, and began to take small sips, as much as she could without the cold liquid numbing her mouth. She watched in the mirror as the woman rummaged around on the dresser and came up with a silver-backed hairbrush, and began running it through her hair in soothing strokes.

Sakura took the moment to study the older woman, now that she had a chance to observe without seeming rude. She, like Fei Wong and many of the other heralds, dressed all in sober black and gray that matched their black hair; the collar of her dress was cut away in a subtle design that invoked the crescent wings of the seal of the White God. In some ways she reminded Sakura of Fai's friend Kurogane; she had the same black hair and slightly slanted eyes. But her hair tumbled down in a wealth of soft, cascading curls that Sakura couldn't help but envy; her eyes were huge and dark and her skin was even paler than Sakura's.

"What's your name?" Sakura asked after a moment. "Umm, I'm sorry I don't remember, but..."

"It's alright, Princess." The steady brush strokes did not falter. "I am Xing Hua. And you have more important things to be thinking about than remembering everybody's name, so I don't mind."

"Oh." Sakura blushed slightly, and took another sip of the juice to hide it. It was cool and sweet, and with the spines of the brush running lightly through her scalp her headache was already beginning to feel a bit better. "Uhm, have you lived here all your life?"

"No." A small smile turned up the corners of the woman's face. "I grew up in a small village very far from here. When I was thirteen, my gift of dreamwatching began to manifest, and the Master found me and brought me here to use my powers for the White God."

"Oh!" Surprised and delighted, Sakura began to turn, only to wince when the spines of the hairbrush pulled her hair. She quickly sat straight again. "You're a dreamseer too? I didn't realize. Yukito-san was one, as well. He helped my father the same way that you help Fei Wong Reed. He must value you very very much!"

"Mmm." Xing Hua's eyes seemed to darken for a moment, and her smile faded slightly. "To tell you the truth, I am not very powerful; I cannot see much, and what I do see is distorted and uncertain. Still, it was enough to foresee your birth, Princess Sakura, which brought us all much joy."

"You foresaw - me?" Sakura said, a touch uncertainly. She hadn't thought to wonder how Fei Wong Reed and the other Heralds knew so much about her, but if they had a dreamseer like Yukito, then that made sense.

Xing Hua nodded in the mirror. "We had long known that a special child was to be born," she said. "But never where, or to whom. It was our great good fortune that I was able to sense your birth into the court at Ceres, although we did not at first realize that you were the Princess. Since then we have been watching you from afar, waiting for you to grow old enough to claim your destiny."

"Oh." Sakura sat still, pondering this, tilting the cup back and forth and watching the reflections in the dark color of the surface. She wasn't really thirsty any more, and the heavy aching of her limbs seemed to drag her down. "Xing Hua - Mister Reed trusts you a lot, doesn't he? You're very close to him, aren't you?"

There was a brief hesitation before the woman replied, "Certainly as close as any of the lesser servants of the White God can come. He is the herald, and it is only my desire to serve him, and to bring about the future we desire."

"Because, because, I just need to know," Sakura said, anxiety bubbling up in her. "Is Mister Reed - angry with me? Is he disappointed in me? Because, because I haven't found the White God yet - I've been searching and searching for almost a week now, but I still can't find the world that she's in. I'm trying my best, but I just get so tired so easily!" Her voice caught in her throat, and despite her best efforts to be grown-up and dignified, fat tears welled in her eyes and ran down her nose. She sniffled, rubbing at her face with one sleeve; she was just so tired and she hurt so much.

"Oh, hush," Xing Hua said, and she stepped around the chair to lay a soft arm over Sakura's shoulders. She rummaged around in the dresser again and came up with a handkerchief, which she used to wipe Sakura's eyes until she took it and clutched it in her hands.

"The master is not angry with you," Xing Hua said, her hand rubbing soothing circles on Sakura's back. "He understands that you are still very new to world-walking, and that you are making great efforts. You are improving - every day you are able to stay in the void longer, and reach farther to other worlds. The White God is patient, and She is eternal. We have awaited her coming for hundreds of years. We can wait a few more weeks."

Sakura sniffled, then blew her nose into the handkerchiefs. "But he doesn't come to watch my sessions," she said miserably. "Is it because I'm not progressing very fast?"

"On the contrary," Xing Hua said reassuringly. "He sees your rapid progress and feels that it is not necessary for him to supervise each training session. And besides, the Master is very busy. He has many tasks that take up his time and attention."

"Like what?" Sakura wanted to know.

Xing Hua hesitated for a moment, and Sakura wondered if this was supposed to be a secret. "Holding open the dimensional gate takes a lot of power," Xing Hua said finally. "The Master has developed many spells to draw energy from the sky and the ground, from the power of sunlight or geothermal heat. He has been working on strengthening those spells, so that you will not run out of power before you complete your task."

"Oh," Sakura said, touched that he would go to such efforts on her behalf, and also impressed by the massive scale of the spells Xing Hua described. Her tutors had always taught her that the world was a closed system, and that energy was not infinite, that it had to come from somewhere. But if Mister Reed could draw power from the sun and the earth themselves, why, that was marvelous.

"So put away your tears," Xing Hua continued. "Rest assured, we are all happy that you are here."

Sakura nodded, and sniffed one more time as her tears receded. "I'm sorry to be such a bother," she mumbled, her hands twisting the sodden handkerchief. "Especially you. You've been so kind to me."

"Not at all," Xing Hua said. Her face softened, once more that odd little smile appearing on her face. "It is nice to have a child around Eden again. You are about the same age that my son would be."

"You have a son?" Sakura jerked her gaze up to look at Xing Hua, shocked out of her own embarrassment. "But how is that possible? You're so young and beautiful! Oh! I didn't mean -" she stuttered, trying to cover for her mistake.

Only then did the meaning of Xing Hua's phrasing penetrate - she'd said that her child "would be" the same age as Sakura, not that he was... and there had been no other children of Sakura's age around the compound. "Did, umm, did something happen to him?" she asked timidly, reaching out to touch the back of Xing Hua's hand gently. "He didn't - die, did he?"

"No, nothing like that," Xing Hua assured her, but her expression saddened and became wistful. "But he left, as all children eventually do. I take comfort in knowing that he is well, and that wherever he goes in the world, he still faithfully serves the Heralds, as I do."

"What does he do?" Sakura wanted to know.

Xing Hua raised one hand to touch her temple beside her left eye. "Although I may not look it, this eye is blind to me," she explained. "Many years ago, I gave up my sight so that the White God could have it. I became one of the Master's 'seeing eyes;' when he wishes it, he can activate the mirror and see through this eye as though he were standing here in this room.

"My son is also one of the 'seeing eyes,' and he left to travel the world in the company of a well-respected archeologist, so that the Master may see and learn what goes on in the world outside." She smiled, but it had a melancholy tinge.

"Ohh." Sakura nodded in sudden enlightenment. Fei Wong Reed had told her during their first conversation that he had seen things in every country of the world; now Sakura began to understand how that could be possible. "But, I'm sure he's having fun! Traveling and learning so many things must be wonderful. It reminds me of a friend I had back in Ceres - Syaoran traveled to many different places, too!"

Xing Hua's hand stilled on Sakura's shoulder, and her expression grew somehow more masked. "A friend? His name is Syaoran?"

"Yes, my best friend!" Sakura felt a warm rushing glow in his chest and face, and tried not to blush. "W-well, maybe it's a bit impertinent to call him that. After all, I only knew him for a few days... But it felt like so much longer. We just understood each other so well - it was like we'd been friends for years."

The warm glow died down a bit, and Sakura bit her lip as she looked down. "I miss him, too," she said in a small voice. And she did, in some ways even more than her home in Ruval, her familiar maidservants and governesses and all the wizards and Fai. She missed them, but she'd had them all her life; she'd only had Syaoran for a few days.

"Hmm." Xing Hua moved again, rising to her feet and pulling Sakura from the chair as well. "Well, you must be tired from all your hard work today," she said. "Come, I will help you dress for bed, and you can tell me more about your friend."

Syaoran was actually dozing in his saddle by the end of the third day, the sun disappearing behind the mountain peaks and turning the descending valley into shadow. The going was easier now that they were down from the pathless, rocky peaks and into the cool forest that spread out like a mantle over the rolling slopes. But the days were still long, waking at first light and pushing on through the trackless wilderness towards the footlands with only the briefest of stops for food and rest.

As soon as they settled into camp, Kurogane told Syaoran he was going to patrol the area for dangers, and not to wait up for him. Kurogane didn't expect to encounter any danger, truth be told. This wasn't demon country - he'd be able to sense their malevolent aura a mile off if it were - and it was a rare wild predator that would attack an armed full-grown man in the light of a campfire. As soon as he was out of sight of Syaoran between the trees, he abandoned the pretense of a patrol and headed purposefully towards the gap between the trees where he'd last seen the flash of white wings.

It didn't actually take much searching - he stepped out into a moonlit meadow, clover and dead leaves crunching underfoot, and saw the hawk perched on a low tree branch, staring at him.

Now, what's a hawk doing flying around after dark? Kurogane wondered.

For a long moment he just stood there, regarding the bird. He couldn't be sure that this was the same bird that he'd glimpsed following them all afternoon down the mountain, but he thought it was. Kurogane had traveled in forests enough to know hawks pretty well, and he didn't think there could be two raptors so oversized, or with such a distinctively pale pattern of feathers. The bird was almost pure white in the moonlight, although in the dying light of the sun it had looked more like a pale yellow.

One of the hawk's golden eyes, the left one, was scarred and dulled, and that was the final link that enabled Kurogane to make the connection. He folded his arms in front of him. "All right, Fai," he grunted, addressing the bird, feeling somewhat foolish as he did so. "You've been following us all day, so you might as well show yourself."

For a moment nothing happened, except for the bird cocking its head at Kurogane and shifting a bit on the branch, and Kurogane began to feel like a total idiot. But just before he could turn around and go back, there was a sudden flurry of wind and glittering feathers on the branch before him. Kurogane had to squint against the explosion of light and quick motion, and when he was able to focus again, Fai was sitting on the branch, swinging his legs and grinning at him.

"Kuro-hunter is really quite observant," Fai said. "I didn't think I'd done anything to give myself away."

Kurogane grunted, resisting the brief impulse to grin in triumph. He hadn't been completely sure, but if he'd been wrong, nobody would have been there to see it except a bird. "As a hunter, I have to be," he said, "or I'd be dead by now."

Fai laughed, a clear rippling sound in the moonlight, and Kurogane's heart eased a bit despite himself. Fai held out his arms to Kurogane and grinned, kicking his heels slightly against the trunk. "Help me down," he commanded.

Kurogane didn't move. "You got yourself up that tree," he objected. "You're telling me you can't get down by yourself?"

"I could," Fai said, and his smile widened. "But I want Kuro-puppy to help me down."

Kurogane grumbled, but moved forward until he was standing under Fai's branch. "Come on," he said, holding up his own arms.

Fai's hands landed on his shoulders, and a moment later his arms were full of wizard. Kurogane's arms tightened around Fai's waist; despite his happy and carefree demeanor, the other man was trembling. Fai buried his face in Kurogane's shoulder, and for a moment neither of them said anything more. Kurogane lowered his nose to Fai's hair and inhaled the scent of him, warm and familiar, safe and relaxing. It was kind of embarrassing to admit how much he'd missed Fai in the few days since they had bid farewell in the Ruval courtyard.

A thought occurred to Kurogane, and he pulled back from the embrace slightly to look back up at the branch, still creaking slightly where it had bent under Fai's weight. "I don't get it," he said. "That was a big bird, and you're still too damn skinny, but you still have got to weight more than twice as much as it did. Where did all those extra pounds go when you transformed? For that matter, where did your clothes go? Or your staff? You sure weren't carrying -"

"Kuro," Fai interrupted him with gentle exasperation. "Do you have fifteen hours right now to listen to Ko's Treatise on Fundamental Anamistic Equivalent Principles?"

"What?" Kurogane stared at Fai in astonishment. "Fifteen - of course not!"

"Then it's magic, Kuro-ko."

"What are you doing out here, anyway?" Kurogane asked after a moment of trying to wrap his brain around that and failing. "I thought you had to stay behind in the castle so that idiot Tennou wouldn't get control. I thought that was the whole point. Did something happen?"

"Oh," Fai said, and then sighed. "A lot of things have happened in the last couple of days, Kuro-tu. Once we quashed Tennou's claim to succession, we set up a regent council of all the remaining wizards to take over for the King while he's… incapable of ruling. Yukito is riding herd on things in Ruval right now; I trust him to make all the right decisions."

"Then is Ashura still…" Kurogane let the question trail off into nothing. The only thing he could think of that would upset Fai this much would be Ashura's death; but he didn't want to come right out and ask for fear of upsetting him further.

"Still sick. Yes," Fai nodded confirmation, relieving Kurogane's fears. But then his face stilled into grave worry. "We've managed to slow the progression of the curse to a standstill, but so far we've made no headway in reversing the damage."

"Huh," Kurogane said. "Then if the wizards are in charge in Ceres and Ashura's still… sick, then what are you doing flying around out here? I thought you'd be back at his bedside, banging your head against this curse thing until you found a solution."

Fai didn't answer him for a long moment, long enough to pique Kurogane's curiosity. When he finally spoke, he changed the subject. "We thought you ought to know, Kurogane," he said, and the use of his full name caught the demon-hunter's full attention. "We've confirmed that the curse which was cast on Ashura the night of Sakura's abduction was the same one that was cast on the King of Valeria, fifty years ago.

"About the same time the king started going mad, new guards appeared in his court at Valeria - just a few at first, but more and more of them over the years. Those black guards wore the crest of a black bat, on a yellow background." Fai met Kurogane's eyes squarely. "The same crest as the man who killed your mother."

A chill went down Kurogane's spine, and he had to fight to keep his grip from tightening painfully on Fai's arms. "So it was the same man, then," he said in a low voice.

Fai nodded; his face was shadowed. "The same… enemy, yes," he said, and Kurogane wondered at the hedging in his voice. "It's not absolute confirmation, but it's as close as we're going to come until you meet him in person."

It was new information. But at the same time, they'd already suspected it - had suspected it from the night they'd killed the Master of Demons together. Kurogane would brood on this information later, but right now he had other things on his mind. He raised his hand to Fai's chin, tilting his face upwards to meet Kurogane's gaze again. "So now I know," he said. "But telling me that wasn't the only thing you flew all the way out here for, was it?"

He was pressed close enough to Fai to feel the shiver that went through his frame. Fai closed his eye, his face bone-pale in the moonlight. "No," he whispered.

"Are you ready to feed yet?" Kurogane asked him quietly. "Flying here and there, you must be getting hungry soon." Although he wasn't anywhere as deathly starved as when Kurogane had first arrived from Nihon, signs of wear were beginning to show on Fai; the bone of his chin was sharp in Kurogane's hand, his frame light and fragile in Kurogane's arms. "I don't care if you…"

"No," Fai gasped. "No, it's not safe yet. I'm all right. I promise."

Kurogane set his teeth with frustration, having banged his head on the wall of Fai's stubborn resolve too many times already. "Then what do you need?" he asked sharply, all patience exhausted for dancing around the subject. "Just tell me."

Instead of answering, Fai threw himself forward, arms clutching tight around the back of Kurogane's neck, kissing him fiercely.

Well, that wasn't the answer he'd expected. Nevertheless, Kurogane kissed back willingly, tasting Fai's desperation. Whatever was bothering him, he clearly didn't want to talk about it, and Kurogane didn't have time tonight to wear down his defenses. Already the moon continued its steady arc in the silent sky, the shadows growing darker in the mountain clearing as the moonlight began to fade.

He wanted to touch more of Fai's skin, but Fai was leaning on his arms so hard that he couldn't free them. Instead he pushed Fai back, stumbling across the tree roots and fallen branches until he had Fai pressed up against the rough back of the coniferous tree. Supporting Fai between his body and the wood, he was finally able to free his hands enough to run them up Fai's arms and shoulders, across his chest and down his stomach.

Fai broke free of the kiss with a gasp. "Kuro -" he choked out, and fumbled around to grab Kurogane's wrists, yanking them down to seat firmly on his hips. "Touch me -"

Kurogane was happy enough to oblige; his hands fit on Fai's slender hips like they were made for him to hold, his fingers curling around to dig into Fai's buttocks. He pulled Fai forward to grind against him, their groins moving together with a sweet heat and friction, and hitched Fai forward enough to kiss him again.

Fai moaned, a throaty sound that Kurogane felt in his stomach and chest before it rose through his throat to buzz against his mouth. He pushed Fai back against the tree to steady him as he shifted his grip, reaching up to pull at the neckline of Fai's clothes. He was wearing the heavy, fur-lined coat of his robe of office, not a bad choice in this cold mountain night; but under it was one of the high-necked collars of Ceres fashion, concealing Fai's lovely throat and collarbone from his sight. Kurogane tried to drag them both into the path of the fading moonlight, so as to better see the buttons of Fai's shirt, but for his trouble got a branch caught in his hair and flecks of bark in his eyes.

"Damn it!" he roared, for a moment forgetting about the possibility that his voice might carry down the cool mountain slopes to their campsite. He bent forward, scrubbing furiously at his watering eyes, and became aware of Fai giggling almost hysterically against his chest.

"I think," Fai gasped once Kurogane had managed to blink the bark out of his eyes, "I think we'd better leave poor Tree-san alone, don't you? We've bothered him quite enough for tonight and besides, I'm getting sap in my hair."

"Have you got a better idea?" Kurogane growled.

Still chuckling with the remains of his laughter, Fai guided them both away from the offending tree to a smooth, cool patch of grass in the moonlight. He unclasped his coat, and spread it out like a blanket over the grass; smiling, he gestured at Kurogane to go ahead, while he began undoing the buttons of his clothes.

Kurogane shimmied out of his trousers and shirt, but put his jacket back on, open across his chest. It was too damn cold out here to get completely naked, and the hunter part of him still itched at the thought of a demon coming upon them unawares. But when he turned back to Fai, now dressed only in the spills and shadows of the moonlight coming through the trees, he couldn't be too bothered.

If the mishap with the tree had done some good, Kurogane thought, because after he got over his bout of near-hysterical laughter, Fai seemed much more relaxed; an imperceptible tension had gone out of him. He lay back on the coat and pulled Kurogane down with him, and they touched each other tenderly, leisurely in the cool air. They were both aware of time passing, and that they both had other places to be; but they had time enough for this moment together.

With breathy moans and whispers, Fai urged Kurogane on. At first the hunter was doubtful, since he remembered how uncomfortable it was to be penetrated even with oil, even in the luxurious comfort of Fai's bedroom. Here they had nothing, except Fai's own saliva, slicked and cooling on his fingers, on his erection. But Fai insisted, almost obsessed with the idea of Kurogane claiming him, filling him; and when at last Kurogane positioned himself and pressed slowly inside, Fai's expression was a twisted mix of pain and pleasure.

"Maybe we shouldn't," Kurogane began, but Fai cut him off with a savage shake of his head.

"I'm all right," he panted. "Please, Kuro-rin. I need to … be here, right now…"

He had to go slowly, so slowly it was almost painful; the sharp scent of pine sap leaking from broken needles mixed with the heady scent of Fai's musk and sweat, and the heat between their groins - of Fai's hands where they pressed against his upper arms - was almost too much to bear.

Fai's colors were washed out in the pale moonlight; his hair white, his golden eye so light it almost looked blue again. Everywhere he touched Fai, his skin was cold, but quickly warmed to searing heat under Kurogane's hands, and Fai moaned his name, breathily, and it was the sweetest sound in the world. He balanced his weight easily on one arm, moving the other down to the join of their bodies where he could squeeze and stroke Fai's cock in time to the rhythm of his movements.

He thrust his hips forward one more time and Fai cried out, his back arching and hair spilling over the edge of the coat onto the grass, as warm sticky liquid spurted over Kurogane's stomach. Kurogane grinned, a little smug despite everything, and dipped his head to lick the shining sweat off Fai's throat as it lay bared and panting beneath him. He really was getting the hang of this sex thing, after only a couple of tries.

"What are you… grinning about…" Fai panted, his good eye glazed over with post-coital bliss.

"What do you think, idiot?" Kurogane breathed down at him, and planted both hands solidly on the coat again for leverage. A hot tingling sensation was starting at the base of his spine, spreading with every twitch and movement of Fai's body under his, and it only took two more thrusts before he came as well.

They lay tangled on the coat for long minutes, feeling the sweat and semen begin to cool and congeal between their bodies but not wanting to move. At last Fai sighed and began to untangle them, wriggling free of Kurogane's softened cock and shifting to his feet. He dug into his fluffy coat's pockets and found handkerchiefs; why he'd thought to bring those and not lube, Kurogane would never know.

"You should go back," Fai said in a barely audible whisper. "Get some sleep before dawn. You've got a long way to go still."

"Will you be coming with us?" Kurogane asked, without too much hope; Fai had said you, and not we. He was disappointed, but not surprised, when Fai shook his head.

"There are too many things I still need to do," he said, then glanced up and smiled. "But don't worry, I'll be around."

"I'll keep an eye out for big stupid birds who are flying when they shouldn't be," Kurogane said.

Fai's smile faded, and he looked aside. "Listen, Kuro-tan," he said, and despite the playful nickname his voice was serious. "Don't look for me, all right? Just focus on what you have to do. And don't… don't tell your student about me. That I was here. Just don't mention me to him at all."

"Why not?" Kurogane demanded, but Fai just shook his head.

"This is important, Kuro-tan," he said seriously, and Kurogane ground his teeth, then let out his breath.

"All right," he said. "Have it your way - but only if you do something for me in return."

Fai blinked in surprised. "Do what?" he said.

Kurogane reached out and closed his hand over Fai's wrist. "Feed from me," he said simply.

Fai stiffened and tried to pull away, but Kurogane had anticipated that and held firm. "I can't right now, I'm sorry," he said in a dulled voice. "It's just too dangerous. There are some things that you just can't know right now, or -"

It was the same argument that he'd used back in the palace, but this time, Kurogane was ready with an answer for it. "Or it would be too dangerous, I know," he said. "I don't get it, but for whatever reason, you don't want me to be able to read your thoughts. Fine. But you still need to eat, or else you'll be useless from hunger at exactly the worst time. How much help are you going to be against our enemy if you're fainting from starvation when we meet him?"

"Well, what do you suggest, then?" Fai asked raggedly.

"Put me to sleep," Kurogane responded. Fai blinked, then opened his mouth to protest, but Kurogane forged over him. "I know that you can do that with magic," he said. "If I'm asleep, I won't be able to see your thoughts, so you'll have nothing to worry about. I'll just wake up an hour later, no harm done, right?"

"Kuro-tan," Fai said, his voice pained. He tugged his wrist against again, but couldn't pull out of Kurogane's grasp. "How could I feed from you when you're helpless? How could I -"

Kurogane just glared at him, and refused to loosen his grasp. "You are not getting off this mountain until you agree," he growled.

Fai sighed, then lowered his head in defeat. "Why is it that you always get your way, Kuro-tan?" he murmured, but there was affection and longing mixed in his voice along with exasperation.

Fai did insist that Kurogane go back down to the campsite and fetch a blanket. He refused to come within sight of the campfire, although Syaoran was asleep; Kurogane checked on him and assured himself that all was well before retreating back up the mountain.

He felt a moment of trepidation, settling himself in a sitting position with his back against a tree; for all his assurances, it frightened him to be so helpless in the wilderness. "It's all right," Fai told him, sensing perhaps his nervousness. "I'll stay here and guard you until the spell is almost up."

"Who's worried?" Kurogane snapped, although he was secretly reassured. Once again he wondered what knowledge could be so dire that Fai would rather starve than share it with him - and how far his trust for Fai would stretch.

"Spaad," Fai whispered, and his fingers trailed down over Kurogane's face, from his hairline to his chin. Tiny, almost invisible sparks seemed to follow in his fingers, and Kurogane felt an overwhelming drowsiness overcome him. Fai's voice followed him down into the darkness; "Sleep."

Kurogane dreamed of an endless sweeping sea; sometimes water, sometimes sand, with the wind whipping tall waves that turned into sand dunes and came crashing down. Overhead the sky was dark, with only an eerie light on the horizon piercing the darkness, a light not at all like dawn.

The only thing keeping him grounded in the maelstrom was a single red string, like a ribbon, tugging him insistently onwards. Trust me, Kuro-sama,Fai's voice seemed to echo from nowhere. Go with him, protect him. This is important, more important than you can know.

The strange light in the sky grew until it was nearly blinding; but Kurogane woke just before it could clear the horizon. He was alone.

Chapter Text

Kurogane squatted on the hilltop, squinting curiously at the plant. At least he deduced it was a plant; it was green and it sprouted from the ground, and it certainly was neither an animal nor a rock. But it also had neither leaf nor stem; only a cluster of flat, round disks about the size of his palm, growing haphazardly upwards like coins stacked on edge. He leaned forward on the balls of his feet and poked it curiously; it felt rubbery and oozed moisture where broken. Spines caught on his glove as he withdrew it, and he winced and extracted one from the gap between fingers.

This was a strange new land, he thought, and he'd better learn its ways quick if he wanted to survive.

He lifted his head and rocked back on his heels, surveying the terrain from the high point he'd climbed for this very reason. They'd left the mountains behind them and the foothills had flattened out, leaving broad stretches of flat plain between the few remaining bumps. The endless sea of green trees had petered out and broken up, making irregular, splotchy rows of dark green across a dusty tan backdrop. The ridges and ravines that did climb above the plain were barren rock and gravel, mostly, baked by the sun; but the mountain streams which trickled to nothingness in in shallow beds were marked by swathes of yellow-stemmed grass, so thick that from this distance the ground seemed to be covered in golden fur.

It was not even midday yet, but the sun blasted down from a wide blue sky overhead, sending rivulets of sweat trickling under his heated armor. It was miserably uncomfortable, but he ignored it; he'd be a lot more uncomfortable if they ran into something without the armor. Not that he expected demons - this wasn't demon country, no humans for them to feed on - but you never knew. Kurogane pushed his way to his feet, brushing the sand and gravel from his legs, and turned to hike down the shallow side of the ridge back to the camp where Syaoran waited.

"Did you see anything?" the boy wanted to know, as he slung the last of the bags across the kozelorug's saddle. They'd found a stream - or at least what passed for one, in this dry land - and while Syaoran had filled up as many waterbags as he could, Kurogane had taken the opportunity to scout ahead. He was a little worried about their mounts - they were covered in shaggy hair and didn't really seem suited for this flat, hot landscape - but they didn't seem bothered by much, and there wasn't really much they could do about it anyway.

"No," Kurogane grunted as he climbed back into his saddle. It was a difficult feat in armor, considering the height of the beast's back, but he'd had a lot of practice. Once he'd mounted and gathered his reins, he raised a hand and squinted in the direction of the morning light. "Let's go."

"That's good, right?" Syaoran asked hopefully as his mount swung easily into step behind Kurogane's.

"Not necessarily."

"But we don't want to meet anything, do we?" the boy asked after a moment, a confused note in his voice like he already knew this was the wrong question.

"Don't be stupid. Of course we don't."

"Then why…" Syaoran trailed off uncertainly. Kurogane stayed silent as they crossed the flats, then pulled to a sudden stop as they crested a ridge.

"Look out there," he said, pointing with one hand. "What do you see?"

Obediently Syaoran looked, and frowned. "Um…" he said. "Cattle?"

"They're not cattle," Kurogane replied. "Different heads, different horns, different hooves. Never seen anything like them before. But that's not important. The important thing is that they're there."

"Yes?" Syaoran said uncertainly.

"Out in the wild, kid," Kurogane said, "where there's food, there will be something that eats the food. There's grass, so they eat the grass. The question is, what eats them?"

"Um," Syaoran said in a very different tone of voice. He glanced quickly in every direction. "…lions?" he ventured.

Kurogane shook his head. "Lions aren't that hard to spot if you know what to look for," he said. "Certain kind of tracks. Certain kinds of scat. There are no lions or any other big cats out here.

"But I did see some other tracks." He glanced around for a suitable mark to use as demonstration, but there were none handy. "Only on the gravel, not on the dirt. Small tracks, but widely spaced. I've never seen tracks like that made by an animal before."

"Demons?" Syaoran's eyes went wide, catching the qualifications he didn't say.

"There shouldn't be any demons out here," Kurogane said, but his voice wasn't sure. "Demons don't eat animals."

Syaoran chewed on his bottom lip. "What, then?" he asked.

"Don't know," Kurogane said, and kicked his mount into motion again. "Point is, I saw the tracks. But I didn't see what made 'em. So keep your eyes open, all right?"

The savannah seemed to stretch on forever. They were actually making better time on this level, open ground than they had picking through the mountains and forests; but there were fewer landmarks to judge by, so the distance seemed to crawl on endlessly. The terrain continued to flatten as they traveled, and there were fewer hills or ridges to get a good lookout of what was ahead. All that could be seen were the endless rows of scrubby dwarf trees and dry, dun-colored grasses stretching to a dead-level horizon.

Day by day the sun rose before them, climbed overhead, and gradually sank behind their backs. Kurogane began to give serious thought to the problem of water. It had never been much of an issue in his old career, since he knew the terrain of his old patrol well enough to find springs and lakes wherever he went. Even this side of the mountains, where the rain fell only rarely, there had been a steady supply of mountain streams trickling down from the icemelt above. But these had become fewer and fewer the further they went.

Kurogane had never traveled through a desert before, but there was one elementary fact about them he couldn't fail to know: they didn't have much in the way of water. Although he insisted they stop and fill up all their waterbags and containers with each stream they cross, he worried it might not be enough. Heat was also going to be a problem. He had at first ignored the discomfort of the hot sun on his armor, but as the heat of the days slowly increased with the season, it was threatening to creep from "uncomfortable" to "dangerous."

He questioned Syaoran, and the boy was willing enough; but although he'd been born in a desert country, he couldn't be much help. He had spent most of his time around towns, cities and well-traveled routes, not forging blindly across unpathed wilderness, and he had been too young to remember where or how Fujitaka arranged for water at each stop. By the time he'd been old enough for such concerns, they had left Clow.

Kurogane brooded on the problem off and on; he chose routes that took them through dips in the land where hidden streambeds might be lurking. So far, they weren't in trouble. But he was sure the terrain was only going to get worse.

The rocks of this country were strange; weathered by constant exposure to wind and sun, their shapes were rounded like the stones in a streambed. They passed hills that resembled handsful of pebbles or marbles thrown carelessly into a pile and forgotten; but each 'pebble' was a boulder weighing tons. Kurogane eyed a wall of rock that they passed under with nervous distaste; it looked like the slightest movement could dislodge the whole hillside to crash down on their heads.

He wasn't exactly sure what alerted him; the flicker of a shadow in the corner of his eye, perhaps, or the scraping sound that didn't come from the hooves of their mounts. Whatever it was he suddenly snapped into high gear, all his senses straining to capture the slightest clues; his vague nervousness came into sharp focus as he realized they were being hunted.

"Kid, stop right now," Kurogane snapped, reining in his own mount sharply. The beast snorted with asperity, but the noise of the footsteps just made it impossible to hear.

"What is it?" Syaoran asked, confusion slowly growing into alarm.

"Something's stalking us," Kurogane said, slowly scanning the edges of the rocky ravine. Nothing to be seen silhouetted on the lip of the gorge, and the shadows didn't seem to be large enough to hide anything dangerous. But still…

"I don't see anything," Syaoran said, turning in his saddle as he looked around.

"That's the whole point," Kurogane said. With one hand he snapped off the saddle straps, lifted his leg and swung it over. Whatever was out there, he didn't want to fight it encumbered by this big hunk of goatsflesh. "Get down."

"But -" Syaoran protested.

"Shut up," Kurogane said. Syaoran subsided, his mouth closing on whatever objection he'd been about to make, and he swung out of his saddle without comment.

At last he had the moment of silence that he needed, and as he listened the sounds of the ravine echoed back to him. Something shuffling and scraping over the rock… it was hard to discern just what, when he didn't know what he was listening to or even where it was. The pattern of the noises sounded off, different from any hunting beast he knew; too widely dispersed, too fast. Two of them?

He turned around, stepping clear of the kozelorug, and drew Souhi from her sheath; better a lighter, more dexterous blade when you didn't know what you were dealing with.

There. It was coming closer now that they were stopped. Closing in for the kill - a rock dislodged from its perch somewhere high up and bounced down the side of the ravine. Kurogane snapped his gaze to it and traced upwards, seeking any hint of movement - but he could see nothing, nothing but naked rock and shadows.

Something passed over their heads, like the shadow of a cloud passing over the sun.

Syaoran had gone very still, and his face was pale. "Sensei," he whispered, his voice a hush whisper. "Was that -"

"Quiet!" Kurogane snapped, still frantically searching the area of the cliffside where he'd seen the rock fall. There was nothing there. It -

It was behind him now. Kurogane spun around and snapped his sword into position, just as the scream rent the air.

It wasn't a human scream. It wasn't even an animal, at least not like any animal he'd ever heard before. There was a bloodcurdling quality to it that hadn't come out of any living voice or pumping lungs, like a howling wind or the tearing of stone. High-pitched and deafeningly loud, it ripped through the air of the canyon and hit them with the stunning force of a hammer.

Kurogane recovered first, his body moving on automatic instinct as their mounts brayed and reared in panic. He sensed blurred movement ahead, rushing towards them like a cloud of doom and threw himself to the side. His arm shot out and grabbed Syaoran's shoulder, yanking him to the side just assomething landed on the ground beside them, plowing up a huge billow of dust in its path.

The impact knocked Syaoran, already unsteady, to the ground and he dragged Kurogane off his feet as well. He turned the fall into a roll and was up again a moment later, dizzied by the tumble but ready to fight. There was a great rent in the dust and gravel, as though some giant farmer had plowed a furrow there, but of their attacker there was no sign.

He hauled Syaoran to his feet and thrust Souhi into his hands. "Take this!" he snapped because there was no time to recapture their panicked mounts and get his bokken from the saddlebags. Syaoran grabbed for it clumsily, and Kurogane wrapped both his hands around it before he stepped away and drew the larger Ginryuu.

"Where is it?" Syaoran cried, but Kurogane was already searching the landscape. Was it an ambush or a hunting animal, would it go for their bigger, meatier mounts or would it attack them again?

Kurogane's kozelorug brayed, a goat-like sound of terror, and bolted back the way they had come. Kurogane let it go. They could chase down their mounts later; the important thing was what had made it run? Something had crossed upwind of it, and as Kurogane moved and turned his face upwind he could smell it too; he did not know what he smelled, acidic and foul and burning in his nose like ozone, but he could smell it.

He swung Ginryuu in the direction of the wind, channeling his ki along the metal blade and releasing it in a controlled blast of energy. It roared out along the path of air that he had directed, blasting loose a load of gravel and sand and cracking boulders in half. Rock roared and crumbled and Kurogane briefly entertained the worry of an avalanche, but he had bigger concerns right now.

Shadows flashed; dust swirled, sand scattered. He snapped his head around, his arms shifting from one spot to the next as he sought his prey. He could see the disturbance it made in clouds of dust and scrapes of rock as it moved but he could not see it…

"Where is it? I can't see anything!" Syaoran said, his voice edged with panic.

"Calm down!" Kurogane said, his mind careening furiously at this confirmation of his own blindness. "You don't need to see. Use your other sens -"

The scream came again; and although it was not as frightening or mysterious as the first time, it still numbed Kurogane's mind and almost whited out his vision. He clung tenaciously to his wits, though, because the beast screamed right before it leapt -

A wall of air roared down the canyon towards them and this time Kurogane turned to meet it, swung his father's blade with the full force of his arm and power. "Senryuu hikogen!" he shouted, and felt the jolting grate of impact as his blade hit home. There was a horrible noise - not the shriek from before but almost as bad - and he staggered backwards as something scuffled and thrashed in the dust of the floor.

Blood spattered, rusty dark brown spurting in arcs and drips from nowhere, and it was all the confirmation Kurogane needed to his own wild suppositions. "It's invisible," he called to Syaoran, feeling weirdly calm to be saying such an absurd thing out loud. "Don't look for it, look for the ground when it moves."

"Is it a demon?" Syaoran wanted to know, and Kurogane did not answer or look away. This wasn't demon country. But what else could it be? Dust filled the air, now; falling rocks and gravel came from all sides of the ravine and it was impossible to see anything in this mess.

The terrible noise split the air a third time, and as he shook off the numb dread another piece of the puzzle fell into place. The purpose of the scream - not only did it stun its prey into stillness, but the ear-bursting volume also prevented its prey from being able to track it by sound.

But Kurogane needed neither sight nor sound to track his prey. He shut his eyes against the stinging clouds of dust and focused, spreading his awareness outwards into the world around him. All things, living and unliving, had their own ki; Syaoran's bright burning, the weird color-tinged aura of the kozelorug, even the dull outlines of the stones around them. And there, bulbous and massive, scaling the side of the rocky defile with terrifying leaps and bounds on too many, impossibly long legs. How could anything so big move so quickly?

It screamed again and this time Kurogane let out a matching roar of his own, countering the crushing noise with the sound of his own voice. This time heleapt first, moving forward at a charging run, with his sword held in both hands point-forward over his shoulder. His eyes opened, but he could still see the sullen, iridescent ki of the monster before him, and he lashed the fury of his sword against it.

The monster pounced, and he sensed a claw coming down and parried it with a savage upwards sweep, feeling a furious sense of satisfaction as his blade resisted and then passed through; more dark ichor painted the stones. He slashed at the monster's center, but scored only a glancing blow - it was all very well and good to sense the monster's position, but if he couldn't see it he didn't know where to hit.

"Hama ryuu-ou jin!" he roared, and let a wall of fire blast outwards from the steel of his sword. It washed over the creature and passed on, but the flame had caught in a dozen tiny places and singed and blackened still more; now he could see it, the monstrous, giant arms that splayed out and supported the huge bulbous belly between it. Tiny black eyes gleamed and glinted from the bizarrely small head, and sizzling, crisping hair surrounded a black maw from which jutted two shiny black mandibles.

It reared back, going up on its back legs as the front legs spread across the sky. Before he had time to try to guess where the underbelly was it pounced, and the mandibles seized on his armor and scraped horribly as it bounced off the impenetrable iron. The blow jolted him backwards, and he found it suddenly hard to catch his breath.

A yell sounded from behind him, and Syaoran leapt forward into the fray, brandishing Souhi with admirable bravery - but a dozen mistakes in form that Kurogane would box his ears for later, assuming they both survived. Stupid kid, he thought as he labored to catch his breath, what is all the drilling for except to make sure that when you grab a sword, your hands remember what to do with it?

Syaoran stabbed forward, missing the eyes - if that had been what he was going for - and the blade disappeared into the empty nothingness to the side of the mouth. He must have struck home, though, because the boy gasped as the sword hilt was jolted from his hands. Then one of the arms - multi-jointed, outlined in burning hair - swept over and down and slapped the boy aside like a rag doll, invisible claws tearing long swathes in the leather of his jacket.

Kurogane didn't take his eyes off the monster- couldn't - but despite the damage to his breastplate he stepped forward, straddling the kid in a protective posture. "Enough of this!" he growled, hands tightening on Ginryuu as he gathered strength for a spring. The charring fires set by his earlier blast continued to spread slowly, and as they traveled back along the length of the spider-thing more and more of it was revealed… and more…

This time, instead of blasting outwards, he focused inwards along the length of the blade, putting all his strength and fury into length of the hardened steel. With a wordless roar he leapt forward, raising Ginryuu with both arms over his head and then sweeping back downwards in a blow that cleaved the creature's head and torso in half.

"It's getting worse," Kendappa said.

Tomoyo, the High Priestess and Tsukuyomi of Nihon, tried with great difficulty to rein in her temper. She had always been the gentle and patient one of the two siblings, the sensible check to the more volatile Empress; but the events of the last few weeks had strained her nerves to the limit, and she did not appreciate her sister's irritating habit of repeating the obvious.

Outside the walls of the palace the winds roared, the rain fell in furious sheets. The cloudbanks filling the sky overhead seethed and rumbled, twisting into an endlessly self-feeding spiral that spread from horizon to horizon. Against all reason the storm did not pass over but stayed stubbornly put in the sky overlooking Nihon, and against all belief, it had raged for weeks now without ever letting up.

Her dreamseer talent, which had guided them for years through the turbulent upheavals of Kendappa's reign, had all but deserted her. All she saw at night, every night when she closed her eyes, was the awesome and terrifying vision of the great doorway in the sky; the doorway that signaled oblivion.

As the winds howled outside the walls Kendappa paced, her boots ticking loudly against the wooden beams of the floor. She'd taken to wearing her armor all the time now, keyed up to fight an opponent who never showed his face; Tomoyo couldn't help but think, with an acid sarcasm, that the armor wasn't likely to do much more than weigh her down when the floods engulfed the palace.

She controlled her temper with difficult, and reached out to catch her sister's arm as she turned for another circuit. "We knew that it would, sister," she told her. "We knew from the first day that this was no natural storm, and all our attempts to break it have failed. The Seer of Ceres warned us that this would come to pass."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Kendappa yelled, whirling to face Tomoyo in a fury. "The sun hasn't been seen in weeks, and what am I supposed to do about it? Do a little dance? Flash my tits? You're the priestess, you tell me!"

Tomoyo ground her teeth, and tried to tell herself that fighting with her sister would accomplish nothing. "We can do nothing to directly affect the outcome. It will end when the dark sorcerer accomplishes his goal, or when someone succeeds in defeating him; no sooner. So far I have been unsuccessful in locating his lair, as have all your agents."

"How are they supposed to search for anything in all this mess?" Kendappa raged, shaking Tomoyo's hand off her arm. Tomoyo sighed and sat back, pressing her hand against her aching forehead. She had not gotten more than a few hours' sleep each night in the past week. "The rice crop is completely drowned! The roads are underwater. The last report I got from the southern coast said that the tide is coming up half a mile inland! Gods only know how many lesser villages have already been completely destroyed -"

Tomoyo took a deep breath, stood, and stepped over to grab her sister mid-rant. "You must call the army back, Kendappa," she ordered, with uncharacteristic steel in her voice. "Nothing you or they can do can break the storm, but they can at least help to contain the damage. Those that survive losing their dwellings to wind and flood must have somewhere to go, shelters must be built. They'll be more use doing that than anything else."

"Call the army back? At a time like this?" Kendappa said in astonishment. "Are you mad, Tomoyo? We would be completely undefended if Ceres decided to strike south again!"

"Ceres has their own problems right now," Tomoyo replied. "The glaciers are spreading down from the mountains now as fast as a man can walk. Entire valleys are ground under its heel or entombed in solid ice. I have spoken as often as possible with their own mages; all their efforts are bent on evacuating their own people to safety. This is not a time to be thinking of attack and retaliation."

"Perhaps you might not think so," Kendappa began with a breath, " - nor I, but you underestimate that slimy, stone-hearted piece of poison Ceres calls King! So much for a peace accord! Even if the world were raining fire around his ears he would still take the opportunity to stab us in the back -"

Tomoyo said nothing, but she knew - from all that had been said and not said by the Wizards of Ceres - that King Ashura was, for whatever reason, not doing business right now. On the other hand, she also didn't want to give Kendappa any 'opportunities' of her own. Instead she reached out and seized her sister's jaw in a tight grip, turning her to meet her gaze.

"Call them back, Kendappa," she said again, a sharper bite in her tone that made Kendappa wince, gaping at her sister in disbelief. "You asked me to tell you what to do, and this is it! We are under magical attack; normal state affairs are not in effect. In the next few nights I will call a conclave of all the miko in Nihon that yet live; together with the Wizards of Ceres we will do all we can to break the magician's power, and together we will try to strike at him in his own lair."

Kendappa sputtered. "If you can do that, then why haven't you before?" she demanded. Tomoyo shook her head in frustration.

"Because we can do nothing if we are beset by storms and disaster on all side! This is all a distraction, sister, from the main event - meant to do no more than keep us paralyzed and helpless while the real battle goes on beyond our reach. Call them back, for if we do not succeed, then by the time the moon reaches its next phase you will have no empire to be concerned about ever again."

"Is it dead?" Syaoran asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Yep," Kurogane said.

"Is it a demon?" Syaoran asked, poking one of its legs in fascination. He'd recovered from the shock of his first battle in record time; thankfully the monster's claws had scored only a glancing blow on him, and although his leather tunic was slashed, only the shallowest of scratches had grazed his skin. He had no idea how lucky he'd been, although Kurogane had insisted on cleaning the scrapes thoroughly just in case.

Kurogane just shrugged. He'd walked around the hulking corpse, throwing handfuls of dust until he'd outlined the whole body; whatever power made it invisible hadn't faded with its death. At least he could see the shape, if not the detailed features - but then again, he didn't think he really wanted to see the details.

"Don't know," he said at last. "It doesn't feed on humans."

"It was in a hurry to feed on us!" Syaoran objected.

Kurogane shook his head. "True demons feed only on humans, and ignore animals," he said. "This thing - and its brothers, I guess - have been feeding on the cows out there, I found bones in its den. It just looks like a normal spider."

"Normal?" Syaoran looked at him incredulously. "Normal spiders aren't the size of a caravan wagon!"

"Well, apart from that, I mean -"

"And they aren't usually invisible!"

"It's not a demon," Kurogane snapped irritably. "It isn't… distorted, or combined, like the other demons I fought." He remembered Seishirou, and the horrors of his lair - In the beginning I actually had to sew together the parts of two animals I wanted to combine into a demon. Now, I can do much better.

"And it doesn't smell like them, either." He crouched down next to the thing's head, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. There was none of the foul corruption of the Master of Demons, but there was something… like sparks and ozone, burning acid. "I'm not saying it's a natural animal. Obviously it's been tampered with by magic somehow. But it's not a demon like we used to have outside the walls of Nihon."

"Does it make a difference?" Syaoran wanted to know. "I mean, in terms of being giant, lethal, and jumping out at us from behind rocks."

"Yes," Kurogane said firmly. "In the first place because I don't think these things eat souls, which makes them much less dangerous. In the second place, if it's a native creature and not a construct, then it means it probably wasn't sent after us. In the third place -"

"Sent after us?" Syaoran said, his eyes widening. "You think the - the enemy could be watching us? That he could see our every move?" He glanced around nervously, then looked up at the sky, as though some invisible eye were hovering and watching them from above. From what Kurogane understood about how magical scrying worked, that wasn't a totally unreasonable thought.

"I don't know. I don't think so. And if he is, there's nothing we can do about it. Stop interrupting," Kurogane said. "As I was saying - in the third place, if this is a native creature that lives in these hills and eats the cows, then that means there's probably more of them."

An ominous silence fell between them. Kurogane's mount snorted nervously and sidled, obviously made unhappy by the proximity to the dead monster; Kurogane reached up to grab its harness.

"But there's nothing to do but go on anyway, is there?" Syaoran said quietly. "I mean, the Princess is still somewhere out there. We've come this far already. And now that we know what to watch out for, we can be more careful…"

"It's your call, kid," Kurogane said in a neutral voice, thinking back to his promise to Fai. "She's your girlfriend."

Syaoran blushed hotly but did not, Kurogane noticed, deny this. "We go on," he said in a firmer voice.

They mounted up and rode on, Kurogane wincing as the new dents in his armor jabbed into his bruises each time he shifted. The sun beat down hotter than ever, but Kurogane was not about to take off his armor now.

"Sensei?" Syaoran said after a while, riding beside Kurogane. His voice was small, thoughtful. "I… thanks. I'm really glad you decided to come with me."

"So am I," Kurogane said. An uncomfortable, warm silence fell between them; at last Kurogane said, "If nothing else, it showed me that you still have a lot to learn."

"I know," Syaoran said humbly. "When we stop to camp tonight, I'll do my drills again."

"You bet your ass you will," Kurogane said. "But some lessons don't need to wait that long. It's time you learned how to sense the ki of your enemies."

"You want me to practice it now?" Syaoran said, expression mirroring uncertainty. "I mean - while we're riding?"

"Given that you're going to be on watch tonight and some of the things that might attack us are invisible, yes," Kurogane said. "Close your eyes. Just do it, your mount will follow mine."

Obediently, Syaoran closed his eyes.

"Now keep 'em closed," Kurogane said. "I'll tell you when to open them. Just concentrate on the world around you. All things have a ki, living or unliving. Try to make out the shape of the rocks and sand first, then see how the life-force of the plants are different. Then try to see our mounts, and me, which are different from them."

Syaoran frowned, eyes pinching tightly shut and brows drawing down as he tried to follow his teacher's instructions. "All I sense is a big fuzzy blur," he reported after a few minutes.

"You're trying too hard," Kurogane said. "You've got your own ki bunched up like you're planning to attack something. Relax. Stop thinking about yourself for a moment and open up your senses to your surroundings."

There was silence as they continued to ride. Kurogane kept one eye on the flat, baking terrain around them while his own senses monitored his student's ki levels. He could see them flare and ebb as his student struggled to master some sort of control over himself.

At last Syaoran sighed and opened his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sensei," he said. "I can't be doing this right."

"It takes practice," Kurogane said. "Try again."

Syaoran closed his eyes, but then shook his head. "It's no good," he said. "I keep thinking that there are all sorts of people around us, but I know that can't be right."

Time seemed to slow down for a moment as Kurogane snapped his own senses to their fullest range, his hand tightening on his mount's reins as he scanned his eyes over the terrain surrounding them. "Right," he said. "This is a good lesson. Second thing you learn, kid, is that when your senses and your brain don't agree, it's usually your brain that's wrong."

"What do you mean?" Syaoran said, looking at him with some confusion.

"What I mean," Kurogane said, "is that there are a dozen or so people surrounding us. Don't make any sudden moves."

The sand seemed to erupt around them, and their mounts snorted and danced to a halt. Half a dozen figures seemed to sprout from the ground, dressed in loose, flowing cloaks which shed the sun and the sand from fraying, tattered edges. Kurogane tensed, jaw clenching as he berated himself for getting so distracted - but they'd masked their own presences so well that they'd been nearly invisible in the sand until they were right on top of them.

There were six men in a loose half-circle in front of them, with more hidden behind the far ridge - no, five men and one woman, he corrected himself, although the dark-haired woman in the streaming cloak appeared no less ferocious than her companions. Bandits, Kurogane thought, seeing the bows in the hands of several of them, and then what the hell, out here? There's no travelers for them to attack!

One of the bandits - a surprisingly short and young-looking man to be their leader, but you couldn't judge by appearances - walked around to stand before them. He was unarmed, but carried himself with the graceful carriage of a powerful warrior, and Kurogane's eyes narrowed as his attention sharpened. There was something - wrong about him, and as a gust of hot, dry wind blew across him, Kurogane inhaled in shock.

Behind him, Syaoran gasped. "It's the Dragons of the Desert," he whispered in disbelief. "They're just a legend!"

With complete unconcern for Kurogane's swords or the imposing height of the kozelorug, the slender, dark-haired man - almost more of a boy, really - walked right up to Kurogane and tapped his mount on the neck. The animal snorted and shied away, and Kurogane didn't blame it - the man's scent carried the faint but distinct tang of some strange metals, a smell Kurogane had only ever encountered on one person before.

When he raised his eyes to glare at Kurogane through eyes of gold, glowing faintly even in the bright sunlight, it was almost redundant. He rattled off a sentence in a language Kurogane had never heard before, but the hostile tone and interrogatory inflection made his meaning plain anyway; who are you, what are you doing here, and what the hell is this thing?

"Yeah, a legend in more ways than one," Kurogane said, not taking his eyes off the man. "Have to say, the middle of a desert is the last place I'd expect to find a vampire."

Sakura entered the throne room, the hem of the white dress they had given her to wear fluttering about her ankles. Her own clothes were starting to get a bit grubby after two weeks of constant wear, so her attendants had given her these garments to wear instead. She liked them well enough, although they were a bit plain and somber; but in that respect they matched everything about the Heralds' stronghold, so that was okay.

The massive looping lines of the magical wards on the stone ceiling overhead no longer filled her with awe or wonder at their size and power, although she still admired their beauty and strength. She crossed the echoing floor and climbed the dais, her bare feet tingling as they crossed the different steps - hot and cold, smooth and rough - and settled back against the black rock of the throne. The by-now familiar tingling started in her hands and feet, and the deep thrumming of the dimensional portal before her rocked her bones. Sakura took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to whisper her mantra.

Sakura hardly ever got headaches any more. She was proud of that, and proud of the longer and longer times she could spend in the throne before her endurance gave out and she was forced to break the connection. She was learning, too, how to direct her scan of other worlds in a more methodical way, so that she could avoid seeing the same useless worlds over and over again.

Mister Reed had taught her what to look for, although it was something that was hard to convey in words: an endless fount of white or golden light, a limitless presence and boundless awareness, a being that spanned a whole universe, who had always been one and had never known the strife of division or loneliness. She was certain now that she would know the right world when she came to it; until then, it was just a matter of searching.

She didn't mind the searching… not really. There were so many universes out there, each one a little different, some strikingly like her own. It was fascinating to watch, and she had to scold herself not to waste time and power lingering to study the plants and rocks and animals of alien worlds.

But lately there was… something else. Little flashes of light or sound, that intruded on her when she was in her trance. Nothing should have been able to distract her there. At first she'd thought she was losing control of her vision again, spinning wild and uncontrolled between random worlds - but some of the noises sounded like voices, human voices, and there had been no human beings on any of the worlds that she visited.

At first it was just snippets, passing by in instants too brief for her to make any sense of them. But in the past few days they'd grown, both in frequency and in duration, to the point where she could almost make out figures or words. They followed her even after she broke out of the spell and left the chamber for the day, buried in the distraction of the mundane world only to resurface in her dreams.

She'd asked Mister Reed what they were, worried that she was doing something wrong somehow. He'd looked at her with his stone-faced impassiveness, and told her to ignore them. Impurities, he'd said, residue left over from the source of the magic power you are channeling. They are meaningless; disregard them and focus only on your task.

So she tried. But it was getting harder to ignore them.

She opened her 'eyes' and turned to the void, the multitude of starry worlds swirling around her like fireflies. With practice, she was able to identify the ones she had already visited, and mentally 'pushed' them away. It was time to start her task. She had to find the right world, and ask the White God to come and help them; everyone was depending on her.

A world of red rocks, dry and barren and lifeless.

A field of stars within stars, scattered like diamonds on black velvet, points of light bursting and dying in endless succession.

- don't - not -

A deep rugged jungle, where fern-trees swayed without wind and moved ponderously across the ground in search of sunlight or food.

A world without light, where strange eyeless beings sang endlessly to each other in the darkness, and knew the universe only in shades of sound.

- ver, I'm tell - you it's n -

A world of wind and storms, vast billowing figures like moths flapping among the currents of howling storms. The clouds seemed to go down forever, lightning crackling below her feet, with never any solid ground -

- knife - edge glints sharp -

- damn well take you with me, I -

An endless holocaust of volcanoes, belching endless fumes into a sulfur-colored sky -

- a wedding arch, rice and flower petals showering down in fistfuls, turn to the bride and kiss -

- baby coos in a hempen cradle, take her to your breast and nurse -

- vertigo - FALLING -

A black sky overhead, below her violet-tinged rock that crumbles and breaks even as she watches, rocks shattering and hanging in the void, turning lazily in empty orbits -

- fall back, men, fall back! -

- coughing - racking coughs - chants the sutras to maintain the wards, protect home and husband and family and son -

A blackness so deep that even looking at it made her shudder, filled with a cacophony of mindless, malicious voices all clamoring for blood, life, suffering -

- woodsmen sing as they move through the forest, the chop of axes ringing in wood, with a rip and a crash, they cheer as the great tree falls -

- can't breathe - blood bubbling in lungs -

A green-tinted light suffuses everything, tiny silver bubbles rising, branched kelp swaying in the currents -

- teeth - blood - PAIN -

- please! Spare my daughter, spare her, spare -

Another desert world, the rocks and sand tinted acid green, lifeless -

- sword - edge flashes red-hot - power roars, "Hama ryuu-oh-jin!" and burn the demon to cinders, but for every one he kills there are twenty more -

- blood - pain - protect home and family and wife and son -

A forest of crystal, each tree rendered of diamond and humming with a deep resonating sound as light crept slowly from one root system to the next, a song that spanned a planet -

- she burst out the door into sunlight, breath already dragging in her panting lungs. Her feet are throbbing in the too-tight shoes, and she limps with every step as she makes her way to the edge of the balustrade. Normally there would be guards - are guards - should be guards but not today, they've all abandoned their posts. Or dead. Some of them are dead.

She leans heavily on the stone parapets and looks out, and strands of yellow hair blow into her face from the wet, icy wind coming down from the mountains. She strains her eyes over the plain, over the castle walls - there, she can see them. Movement, marching, men are coming - are going to come - have come to conquer them, raze their country to the ground and kill them all.

She turns at bay, breath fogging the air and tears fogging her eyes. There is nowhere left to go, no one left to go. Her husband the King is going to go - has gone - is going mad, gorging himself on blood, and all the knights have abandoned them while the peasants shriek and cower. No one listened! No one ever listens!

"Too late now!" she screams, and the words echo off the parapets and bounce around the empty courtyard. Too late late now now now. "The king of Ceres will kill us all in our beds!"

A noise behind her, a rush of air that is dry and foul and far too warm for this snowy climate. Slowly she turns and sees him, like she's seen him many times before - never seen him before. There is a ragged gash in the world and he looks out of it, hair black and upswept like a storm crow's wings, an angry scowl above a granite chin, sweeping black robes and it's Mister Reed, Sakura recognizes him, but she's never seen him so angry! "Where are they, Elda?" he says, his expression as dark as as the howling sky.

"You!" she says. "I knew you would come! I saw you!"

"I knew that you would," Fei Wong Reed says, his voice utterly calm despite the chaos of the kingdom dissolving around him. "Unfortunate are those who are born with enough power to see beyond the veil of this world, but without the wisdom or guidance to know what to do with their power."

"No one listens!" she screams, and her fingers tear at her hair - her hair - golden strands floating down to the paving stones below. "I told them you were coming but no one ever listens!"

"It is well they did not," Fei Wong Reed says, a dangerous glint in his eyes and a rumbling undertone of his voice. "You made enough trouble for me as it was; you very nearly upset all my plans for the disposal of Valeria, constantly setting your husband against me. As it is, this has all taken far too long, and it was never my intent that the King of Ceres should interfere. He will be here shortly with his army, and I intend to leave nothing that could be traced back to me."

"The black guards..." Then she realized, now she realizes why the hallways were so deserted. Day by day there were more and more of the faceless black guards, less and less of anyone else. Now they are gone - all gone - and there is no one left. No one but her mad husband and the cringing peasants and her.

"Yes. There is nothing that can save Valeria now," the black magician tells her with an iron finality. "But there is still a chance for you. I will save you, if you only tell me the truth: where are your children, Elda?"

She laughs and laughs, as she finally heard - will hear - hears the words that echoed in her dream every night, that drove her to wake up screaming and weeping. "You'll never find them!" she shrieks, laughter ending in fury. "I've hidden them from you! You will never, ever find them, and they will never be yours!"

His face darkens with fury, the light drains out of the sky. The metal marching of the Ceres army is closer, now. "Your family is far more powerful than they have any right to be," he said. "Your sons - such a rarity, twins born with such power - would be invaluable assets to me. But even more than your children, I need you. I have long had need of a dreamseer, to help me find that which I seek. Come and serve me, Elda. I will have the truth from you, now or later."

"Never," she breathes, and her lips peel back from her teeth. She takes one step back, and then another, her shoes scraping against the stone. "I will never serve you! I will never serve you! I will ne -"

A flash of soundless light sears the sky, a tumult of what is and what was and what will be roaring like a wave, like an invading army that razes all in its wake; and she sees what future he brings with him, she sees the doorway in the sky framed by a hellish light, she sees what Fei Wong Reed desires, and all that will become if she submits to him…

And she opens her arms and leaps gladly into the storm, the winds that will carry her out of his reach forever. Her hair, her hair, fluttering around her face as she flies, golden strands floating down to the marble paving stones below -

Sakura gasped, the mantra broken, opening her eyes with a jolt to the inside of the stone room. The visions faded quickly around her once the contact was broken; the world-portal seethed and subsided, the light and heat of the throne slowly dying away as no more magical power flowed through it.

"What was that?" she whispered.

"My lady?" The black-clad attendants look at her with alarm. "Have you found what we seek? Have you made contact with the God?"

"What? I - no," she said, trying to recover her balance. What was that? She could still hear the shrieking of the queen's mad laughter, could still feel the fury of the visions lashing at her. If Fei Wong Reed's wish comes to be - If the future he seeks becomes real -

"I - I think I have to stop," she said in a shaking voice. "I'm not feeling very well."

"Very well, my lady," the steward said, confusion plain in his face and voice; she'd only just gotten started. "I will take you to your chambers to rest for a while, and then you can try again."

She stumbled from the vision hall, through the lamp-lit stone corridors to her bedroom. Feigning a headache, she lay down on her bed fully dressed and pleaded for the maids to put the lights out. They did so and withdrew, leaving Sakura staring wide-awake into the darkness.

What did I just see?

As the sun sank towards the horizon, a bird winged its way across the sky. It was a falcon, too high for its hunting range and abroad too late for its day-sighted kind. Leagues of empty land spooled away beneath its wings, its golden eyes fixed on a far-off destination.

Far to the south, another mountain erupted in fire; a low plume of smoke and ash belched into the air, adding to the growing stain that spread across the southern sky.

Chapter Text

Kurogane climbed carefully off his mount, aware of the gaze of each of their ambushers on them. He'd dismounted not because they wanted him to, although the sharp words and curt gestures made it obvious that they did, but because he much preferred to be on his feet if any fighting was going to happen. He didn't want to fight - his armor would protect him from the crossbow bolts and arrows, but Syaoran was defenseless - but he had no intention of going down easily, either.

The stranger with the yellow eyes - the one who smelled so wrong, so much like Fai - spilled out another indecipherable sentence. Kurogane tensed and shifted his stance, eyes narrowing, but made no other reply. And then the stranger reached over to take his swords away from him.

It all happened in a split-second. As soon as the stranger's grasping hand brushed against Ginryuu's scabbard, Kurogane moved. He twisted in his saddle and had Souhi out of her sheath in the blink of an eye, sweeping the deadly metal blade around in a precise cut that stopped dead millimeters from his opponent's throat.

The dark-haired man, however, had moved just as fast. His arm punched out with terrifying accuracy into the gap between the plates of Kurogane's armor, landing against the side of his ribs just inches from his heart. Kurogane felt a sharp bite against his skin, and narrowed his eyes down at his opponent. I know for damn sure he didn't have a knife in his hands -

The two of them held their positions, staring steadily into each other's eyes; if either of them moved they could kill the other in an instant.

Deadlock.

"Sensei, please," Syaoran called out nervously, holding his hands in careful surrender as he looked from one of their ambushers to another. "Can't we just talk about this?"

"Good idea," Kurogane said, not moving his eyes away from his opponent's. He raised his voice. "So. Any of you lot speak Nihongo? Eh? Nihongo wo hanas' ka?"

A ripple of reaction went through the men, and provoked an amused comment in their own language. "Guess not, huh," Kurogane replied.

Hesitantly, Syaoran said something Kurogane didn't understand - but the tones and guttural stops of it sounded familiar. Their leader - not the vampire who'd cornered Kurogane, but a taller man who seemed to be in charge - responded with some surprise.

"They're speaking Vedan, Sensei," Syaoran switched back to Nihongo. "It's an - an old dialect of a language spoken in northern and western Clow. I'm not a fluent speaker by any means, but I think we can communicate the basics at least."

"Good," Kurogane said. "So if you can 'communicate' to this guy that he lowers his arm, and I'll lower mine, and nobody has to die right this moment. But if anyone tries to take my sword from me again, I will take their head off."

Syaoran translated, and the leader barked a phrase at Kurogane's opponent. The unexpectedly delicate features transformed into a ferocious scowl, but the leader repeated the order - louder - and the young man lowered his arm and backed away, pouting sullenly. Kurogane relaxed his own stance and at last dared to look around. Syaoran had dismounted too, and was hanging onto his mount's reins with one hand while he glanced repeatedly around the circle at the other men.

"All right," Kurogane said, sheathing his sword. "Who are these guys? Bandits, or what?"

Syaoran repeated the question in Vedan, while Kurogane took a moment to size up their opponents. There were six of them in total, including the vampire; one hardly looked like more than a boy, but he held his crossbow as steadily and firmly as any of the others. Most of the others appeared to be young adults, lean and rangy but healthy enough. One brown-haired man was older, grizzled around the eyes and temples, but he did not appear to be their leader - instead they seemed to look to the tall, sandy-haired young man who'd answered Syaoran's questions.

"They're not bandits," Syaoran said, drawing Kurogane's attention again. "They live here, in this desert -" He was interrupted by a stern question from the tall leader; another exchange of incomprehensible words followed.

"What are you talking about?" Kurogane asked impatiently. "Nobody lives here. It's marked as uninhabited on all the maps. Not enough water for farming, not close enough to anybody else to be worth trading."

"Sorry, sensei," Syaoran apologized. "He wanted to know who we are. I told him that we're travelers from Nihon, and that we're just passing through and don't mean any harm."

"Well, not to them, anyway," Kurogane grumbled.

The older, grizzled man spoke up then. "He says," Syaoran continued to translate, glancing from one man to another, "that they have always lived on these lands, the desert and - and dry-lands, I think he said - that surround it. They trade with people from Clow sometimes, or the south-men - I think they mean people from Autozam - but mostly they're hunters who follow the herds. They want to know why we are trespassing on their lands."

"Well, we're not here to trade," Kurogane said. "Or to hunt any of these cow-things. We have business in the desert."

As Syaoran translated the remark, the slender man with the golden eyes interrupted in a loud and angry voice. He pointed at Kurogane's swords, then gestured towards his chest, and folded his arms across his chest with a scowl.

"He says, um, 'You say you aren't here to fight, but you have obviously been fighting,' " Syaoran said. " 'If you aren't here to hunt the animals, where did you get those dents in your armor and notches in your sword?' "

"Tell him we had a run-in with a giant invisible spider," Kurogane said.

"I was going to, Sensei," Syaoran said in a hurt tone. "I'm just letting you know what's going on."

Kurogane watched for their reactions carefully as Syaoran explained about their battle with the monster. On several faces he saw startlement, then grudging respect, but not surprise. Whatever that creature had been, the desert nomads already knew about it. Which meant that there were quite certainly more out there.

"All right then," he said. "About that spider. I don't know how a spider can scream, but I'm willing to accept that it can. I can even, with some difficulty, buy that the spiders out here just get really, really big. But what I want to know is how in the seven hells can a spider become invisible? And more importantly, what other kinds of weird critters out here are the same way?"

The exchange that followed was lengthy, a lot of back-and-forthing, and Syaoran seemed to be having some trouble with the local dialect. At last he turned back to Kurogane with a shrug. "He says they can't tell us anything, Sensei," he said.

"Really?" Kurogane said. "Be more specific - did he say that they don't know why the animals are like this, or that they won't tell us anything?"

After a moment's hesitation, Syaoran repeated the question back for clarification. The answer he got this time was much shorter and sharper.

"He says, 'They are things we do not speak of,' " Syaoran reported obediently.

"Right," Kurogane said. He looked around the circle of desert nomads, their cloaks blending almost perfectly into the sand. "Because I think they do know what that thing is, and why. And I think I know too. That creature was made with magic, which means a wizard is involved somehow.

"If there are a lot of them running wild, then it might just be that they weren't made on purpose - that there's so much magic happening out in the desert that it kind of overflows, like a lake spilling over a dam, and affects the local wildlife. As it happens, we're out here to track down and kill a wizard who isprobably out somewhere in that desert. So what's really important here, where we've got half a dozen desert-dwellers including one that isn't human at all, is to know whether they've got any info we can use to take down wizard, or whether they're in with him up to their necks."

He glanced over at Syaoran, who was standing stunned, his eyes wide with shock. "Ask them that, only you can leave off the last bit."

"No need," the leader of the bandits said, and Kurogane jerked around to face him as he registered the words. The tall man smiled at him, scimitar-sharp, as he went on to add: "Is better you come with us, now. Dragons, we give hospitality. Back at our camp, have food and water, can talk more better."

"Oh," was all Kurogane could say; with some effort he managed to get out "So you do speak Nihongo."

The bandit's grin widened. "Is different between can talk, and want talk. Better you come with us, now we want talk."

Camp turned out to be misleading, at least to Kurogane's mind; he was used to the one-man campsites he could set up quickly while on the move and break down again just as quickly. The nomads' camp, in contrast, was a whole tiny tribe's worth of people; old men and children and middle-aged wives who greeted the return of their warriors with cheerful calls and the presence of the two strangers with open curiosity. As a camp, the desert nomads' dwelling place was astonishingly luxurious. As a long-term dwelling place, it was painfully bare and Spartan.

Their 'traveling village,' as Kurogane thought of it, consisted of half a dozen large tents and half again as many tiny ones. Each tent was constructed of two layers of fabric; the outer wall was tough, sturdy and plain, the same color as the rocks and the sand so that the entire dwelling place blended right into the landscape. The inner wall, however, was richly decorated and embroidered; a wall of air between the two layers of cloth would keep the heat out during the day and in during the night, and prevent condensation from seeping through.

Inside the tent the ground was completely covered by rugs, with a small glowing fire in the center and even a few pieces of bare furniture - lightweight and lightly bolted together, easy to break down when the time came to move camp. Kurogane and Syaoran were led into the largest of these tents and sat beside the hearth there; they were given food and water, and offered garments of the same poncho-like style that the nomads had worn in their desert ambush.

Kurogane observed everything with a keen interest; although this style of living was new to him he knew a lot about the necessities of traveling, and was picking up a pretty good idea of how traveling in a desert was different. It was becoming obvious that their current set of gear wouldn't last them for much longer in this terrain; if they were going to cross the sand plain, they needed desert gear and the only place to get it was from these nomads.

There had to be some way to convince these people to help - after all, they were going after the great evil that the desert people lived in fear of. Under those circumstances, once the misunderstandings had been worked out, Kurogane would have thought they'd be happy to help. But so far, the negotiations - conducted through Syaoran, the only one who could speak their language - weren't going well.

"I'm trying, but they're not really being very helpful," Syaoran had said, his expression glum. "They just keep saying that we're going to die."

"Oh, they say that, do they?" Kurogane had growled, gripping his sword as he narrowed his eyes at the nomads standing behind him.

"No, no, it's not that they're going to kill us," Syaoran hurried to explain. "It's just that, they say no one has ever returned from the high desert before. Not even explorers from their own tribe, who know the desert better than anyone. They say that if we go in, we won't come out, and they don't want to waste supplies on corpses."

Kurogane sighed. He supposed he could see the logic there, although he didn't like it. "Well, keep trying," he said, and clapped Syaoran on the shoulder. "Remember, we're not likely to find Sakura without help from these guys."

Syaoran's uncertain expression cleared instantly, replaced by one of determined resolution. "Right," he said, and hurried off.

Kurogane had not bothered to go with him; he could add nothing to the negotiations, and sitting in the close air of the tent while people argued in words he couldn't understand was just going to drive him crazy. He was already feeling steadily more impatient and irritated with each hour they wasted here, getting no closer to their goal. He hated this feeling of being under a deadline - even one he didn't fully understand - and being held up by things that weren't under his control.

Worse, being forced to sit still left him vulnerable to brooding. Kurogane wondered how things were going at home - he'd been on much longer demon patrols, of course, but before he'd always had the comforting assurance that Nihon would be just fine behind its wards and walls without him. But all safety had gone out the window when that sneaky wizard with his portals could pop anywhere, even inside the wards; what if something happened to Tomoyo while he was too far away to do her any good?

He never should have agreed to come on this fool's errand - never would have, if not for Fai. Where was Fai anyway, and what was he doing? Kurogane hadn't seen the familiar shadow of the trailing bird for many days - he hadn't looked, either, obeying Fai's request. He stared at the unfathomably blue sky overhead now, wishing he could aim his vicious scowl in the right direction.

Fai was lying to him, at least by omission. Fai wasn't telling him important things and while Kurogane had accepted it, out of trust and love, he still hated it. The wizard's absence from his side was a phantom pain, an ache like a missing arm, and after all they had been through together he couldn't stand that Fai insisted on holding himself apart like this.

Kurogane dropped his gaze from the sky and drove to his feet, muscles tense and twitching as though ready for battle. He couldn't just sit here like this, while the world turned without him. He had to move, to do something, to find something - or someone - to fight back. And though the warriors of this tribe were demonstratably fierce and formidable, it wouldn't be diplomatic to pick a fight with them unless they picked one first.

Or at least, not most of them; the exception was the slender young man with the golden eyes. Kurogane had no idea how these warriors organized their ranks and hierarchies, but he was good at reading body language; this man moved apart from the rest of the tightly knit tribal society. An outsider - like Kurogane and Syaoran - but one who had been with them long enough that they had grown comfortable with his presence.

He found the young man outside, lounging against the poles of one of the tents as he watched a gathering of the nomads nearby. His body language was aloof - with the tribe but not part of it - and Kurogane was reminded once again, painfully, of Fai. How deep did the similarities go? Was there something he could learn from this man - or whatever he was - that could help him understand his lover's needs?

"Hey, you," he said, not bothering to switch into a formal mode of address. "What's your name?"

The vampire looked at him, eyes widening in mock surprise as though he hadn't even realized Kurogane was there. He said something in the foreign tongue; Kurogane could make nothing of it, but it made the handful of watchers around the dice game laugh.

"I have no idea what you just said," Kurogane informed him flatly. "Can't you speak a civilized language?"

"I can," the vampire calmly responded - in accented but perfectly intelligible Nihongo - "but the question is, why should I bother?"

So he did speak Nihongo after all. Kurogane's eyes narrowed. The kid looked far too young to have traveled all that much and picked up so many languages - but then, looks could be deceiving.

"You fight?" one of the dice-players - an older man with wispy white hair, missing some teeth, but with bright eyes sharp with anticipation. "You fight Kamui, eh?"

"Kamui, huh?" It was a Nihon-style name, but that didn't necessarily mean much - the Nihon empire had been dominant in this region for over a hundred years, and many aspects of their culture leaked out into the surrounding kingdoms. You could find Nihon-style names even in Ceres, as different a culture as could be imagined. "Where do you come from, Kamui?"

Kamui straightened up, and leveled him a glare of pure disdain from his eerie yellow eyes. "Farther away than a Nihonjin yokel like you has ever been," he spat. "I doubt you've ever met one of my kind before, boy."

Kurogane bristled at the insult, and it led him to be perhaps not as diplomatic as he could. "Don't run your mouth about things you know nothing about," he growled. "I've put plenty of miles under my boots on patrol, and I've struck down more demons of the wild than would fit in your nightmares. And however special you think you are, I have met a man like you before -"

"What?" Kamui's eyes widened, his attention suddenly riveted on Kurogane - his expression was skeptical and incredulous, but his eyes were wide with shock, with some wild desperate hope that stunned Kurogane in its intensity. "Where? How?"

"It's none of your business where," Kurogane snapped; he was not about to spill Fai's most private, painful memories to this arrogant ass of a demon-boy. He wouldn't have, he shouldn't have even broached the topic at all… but memories of the Master of Demons still haunted his dreams sometimes, and he woke with eyes wide staring into the darkness, wondering why. How a man so twisted and evil as Seishirou had come to be, how he had learned such evil arts. If there was any chance at making a connection with his past, any small scrap of understanding… the words leaving his mouth before he had even made up his mind to say them. "What I want to know is, did he make you, too?"

A hissing sound came from between Kamui's teeth. "Who?"

"That was what he called himself," Kurogane said, and had to dig back in his memory to attach a name to that face, to that dark memory. "The Master of Demons. He had a name. Seishirou…"

"Sakurazukamori!" Kamui spat the name as though his mouth was full of acid. His eyes burned, and his lips drew back to expose rows of teeth that were all just a little too long, a little too pointed to fit in a human mouth. Kurogane felt his hackles rise, and despite himself reached for the hilt of his sword, but stopped himself before he could actually draw. "That lying, thieving, filth-eating sonofabitch! He never created anything in his life, all he knew how to do was defile and copy and steal! We lived for hundreds of years before that scumsucking human was even born, and he never created us!"

Us? Kurogane wondered. Because if the mad wizard had not created these vampire-men, then that could only mean that they'd lived in the world long before he'd come along. Was there a whole race of them out there somewhere? And if so, where were the rest of them now? "I just wanted to know -"

"You don't know anything!" Kamui whipped around, his face twisted with fury and his arms raised as though to strike Kurogane down before he could speak; and Kurogane realized that they had an audience.

"You fight now, yes?" one of the watching nomads called out. They had abandoned their game to gather in a wide circle around Kurogane and Kamui, their eyes bright with the spectacle of drama and violence that the two outsiders offered. It was unlikely that they could understand any of the argument that had erupted so suddenly between them; but there was no misunderstanding the savage fury in Kamui's posture and the inherent threat of his own, hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

"We meet many warriors," another nomad added, in slightly better Nihongo. "Many big, strong warriors. They all fight Kamui. They all think easy. Great joke, eh?"

"Don't tell me you're backing down now," Kamui hissed at him, fingers twitching and eyes glowing. "If you think you're such a fierce warrior, oh mighty slayer of demons, then why not prove it to me now? Unless you're just a coward after all!"

Kurogane hesitated, glancing quickly around the ring. There came a certain point in a confrontation where violence was simply inevitable; usually when Kurogane came to that point, he preferred to just attack right out rather than waste any more time. But he didn't exactly want to start a fight with the entire desert tribe; even if he survived it, which was no guarantee, it would spoil their chances of getting any kind of aid out of them.

On the other hand, the nomads - with the exception of Kamui himself - didn't seem to be gearing up for an attack. In fact, they didn't even seem particularly angry or hostile - just amused and anticipatory, like children lining up for a show. "I'm no coward," he said aloud. "And if you want a fight, I'll fight, as long as you don't cry for help from your friends the moment you get hurt."

Kamui laughed. "You," he said scornfully, "should be so lucky!" Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked away, not even looking behind him to see if Kurogane followed.

He followed.

Behind the ring of tents was a wide empty ring of bare rock and gravel, open to the wind that blew a steady fine stream of sand over their feet and against the lee of the tents. What seemed like half the tribe of nomads came out of their tents to watch, with the air of children attending a fairgrounds show.

Right. Kurogane considered what he knew, even as he drew his sword and steadied his feet on the ground. Obviously, this Kamui expected to win; he was so confident that he wasn't even considering the possibility that he might lose. What was more, all of his tribesmen seemed to be in agreement - and several of them bore the scars of experienced veterans, so they at least should have some measure of what made a strong warrior. If they were so sure that Kamui could beat Kurogane, that meant the skinny kid with his frail-looking limbs was more than he seemed.

He might be a wizard, but he seemed altogether too eager to jump into a physical confrontation for that. Which, together with those golden eyes, only left one possibility. Yellow-glowing eyes like that said demon to Kurogane's long experience.

Most of the demons Kurogane had faced were monsters, huge and misshapen in form and entirely inhuman in thought. But Kurogane knew one man with demon blood in his veins, one other man whose eyes glowed like fire, one other man who drank human blood to survive - and he'd had enough experience with Fai's casually inhuman strength that he had an idea what he was in for.

As closely as he was watching the vampire, he still almost missed the moment when Kamui moved. Even the scuffle out in the desert earlier, when Kamui had tried to take away Kurogane's weapon, had not prepared him for the inhuman burst of speed. His opponent was incredibly fast, barely a blur in Kurogane's vision, and long talon-like claws erupted from his fingers and swept savagely down towards Kurogane's neck.

Kurogane didn't consciously register the movement, but his reflexes - honed from years of fighting demons where one moment of inattention could mean death or worse - moved for him. He brought his sword upwards with both hands, razor-edged blade turned towards the sky, and caught the brutal blow with a force that sent one splintered claw flying.

Even though he had braced himself with every ounce of his formidable strength, that blow still jolted Kurogane almost off his feet. But there was a moment in any battle when the very first blow was struck, when the two contenders locked their strength together and tested each other, which would determine how the rest of the battle would go. Kamui had expected Kurogane to underestimate him, expected to catch Kurogane off guard and end the battle in the first savage flurry of blows. He had not expected to be caught by surprise in turn and for a moment he hesitated, confused and at a loss.

Kurogane, on the other hand, did not hesitate. He'd gone into this battle having a very good idea of what he was facing; Kamui did not. Kurogane heaved his shoulders and another claw scattered to the sand as his sword rang out with the impact of the parry. Kamui stumbled backwards, wide open to retaliation, and Kurogane was not playing around; he leapt forward to press the attack, sweeping his blade up and channeling a blast of ki down the length of the blade as he called out "Hama ryuu-oh jin!"

The vampire scrambled backwards, then twisted to the side like a cat as he regained his feet on the loose gravel. Damn. Kurogane had really been hoping to end the fight quickly.

He didn't wait for his enemy to regain the initiative; instead, he shifted his stance and willed his ki into the sword. This time the blast roared out in front of him in a wide funnel, well to the left and right of anywhere his opponent could jump. The licking tongues of dragon fire also menaced the ring of nomads who had gathered to watch the fight; they scrambled aside, yelping, but Kurogane had no attention to spare for them.

When the flames cleared there was no sign of his opponent. Kurogane looked wildly about with no luck; a warning twinge from his ki senses prompted him to look upwards.

The vampire seemed to hang in the sky, silhouetted against the lowering light of the sun. Long black spidery claws spread wide, and descended as the vampire plummeted like the outstretched talons of a bird of prey. Kurogane threw himself to the side, hitting the sand on his shoulder and rolling several yards before he came to his feet again, bringing his sword to bear in the block position. Several parallel trenches gouged the sand where he'd been standing, inches wide and several feet long, and Kamui was coming at him again.

They clashed again, claws on steel, and it seemed to Kurogane that the vampire was not quite as strong as he had been in the beginning - or maybe the adrenaline running through his system made him numb to the shocks. At least this time he was able to throw Kamui off and charge him while he was still scrambling for footing, but if the bastard was weaker he sure wasn't any slower as he dodged inhumanly fast around Kurogane's sword and spun around to rip at his back. Kurogane felt the claws scrape and slide off his armor, and dark laughter bubbled up from his throat with the joy of battle.

Kurogane lost himself in the fight, the savage flurry of blows and dodge and parry. His vision narrowed to the familiar black and white, and he lost all awareness of his surroundings except as an obstacle course to climb and run, use as cover or blast his way through when it got in his way. He was so intent on the battle, in fact, that he almost didn't draw back in time when one of the desert bandits ran out into the field of battle, waving his arms and yelling "Stop, stop, stop!"

Fortunately Kurogane was still conditioned to fight demons, not humans, and he managed to draw back his blade before he struck the new opponent down. And a good thing too, because when he glanced over at the ring of watchers, they had suddenly acquired a whole array of pointy weapons aimed in his and Kamui's direction.

"Enough!" the desert bandit declared, planting himself dramatically between the two opponents. "Stop fight!"

He turned towards Kamui first, and delivered a long tirade in the incomprehensible desert language. The man flung out a hand towards the ring of tents, and Kurogane was rather startled to see that one of the canvas walls now sported deep rents where the vampire's claws had struck them. Another tent was still on fire, with men and women flinging sand onto it to try to smother the flames.

When the man finally finished his lecture to Kamui, the vampire slunk off pouting. He turned to Kurogane, eyes narrowed.

"He started it," Kurogane said, rather petulantly, before the man could speak.

"Ha!" the nomad chuckled. Kurogane recognized him as the older, slightly grizzled warrior who had been at the ambush earlier in the day. His command of Nihongo was none too good, but then, with the tent still merrily burning, Kurogane was pretty sure he got the point. "Good fight. OK? Enough! Noise, light, many can see. Bad! Stop! OK?"

"Sorry," Kurogane muttered, feeling somewhat ashamed of himself. He was a guest here, and even if Kamui had provoked him, he'd let himself be provoked. "I'll stop," he added, and the man nodded shortly in satisfaction and stomped away, presumably to put out the burning tent.

Kurogane turned back to his opponent. Kamui gave him a sideways glare, nursing his jaw. Kurogane wasn't particularly sorry about that; it had been a clean blow and besides, he saw that the cut he'd scored on the vampire's arm was already healing. "Look," he said. "I… didn't mean to upset you, earlier.

"This other man I was talking about… I don't think it's the man you knew. He was my friend and Seishirou made him... like you, against his will, and it wasn't pretty. I wasn't… well, I wasn't trying to imply anything." The apology came out somewhat awkwardly; he wasn't good at pretty words, and he wasn't entirely sure how he had managed to offend Kamui so thoroughly when all he'd meant to do was talk to him.

Kamui growled. "I swore I'd kill him," he said in a low undertone. "For what he did, I swore I'd rip his heart out with my bare hands if I ever got close enough to see his slimy face again."

"You're too late for that," Kurogane said unthinkingly, his mind still on the problem of vampires. "He's dead."

"What?" Kamui jerked around to face him, his golden eyes wide and shocked. "You killed him? One little demon-hunter did what armies had tried and failed to do?"

"Yes," Kurogane said, nettled by the disbelief obvious in Kamui's voice. He chose not to mention Fai's role in it for the time being. "Last winter, near the end of the war between Ceres and Nihon. Almost the last battle of that war, you could say. Punched him front to back, took his head off, and burned his workshop to ashes." Fai had seen to that, he'd incinerated the land for miles around to be sure the land would be cleansed of Seishirou's taint.

Kamui's hands clenched, his face a picture of stunned disbelief. "If you're lying to me -"

"What possible reason would I have to lie about that?" Kurogane snapped. "Whatever he might have done to you, he set his perverted creations on mypeople and caused uncountable death and destruction to my country for years. I dedicated my life to wiping out him and all his ilk, and I sure as hell wouldn't lie about that to impress some ratty little vampire I never even met before today."

Kamui turned away. Kurogane could hear his breathing, deep and unsteady, and wondered what was going through his head. But now that he'd started ranting, it was hard to stop before all his frustration poured out. "I killed him, and I killed his demons," Kurogane said. "But before he died he told me that he was only a servant, that there was some greater wizard behind him who'd given him his magic and sent him out to wreak havoc in the world. That'sthe man that I'm chasing out here in this godforsaken desert, because I don't want to stop with my mission half-done."

"I hear your heartbeat," Kamui said lowly, after a long silence. "You're telling the truth."

Kurogane wanted to say something acid. But that would have been undiplomatic, so he resisted.

"You're telling the truth," Kamui said, and looked up at the sky; the sun was almost down by now, the deep dark blue of the night sky already spreading through the sky. "You have no idea what you've done, warrior, or how many years of injustice you've eliminated with that ridiculously oversized sword of yours. You have no idea what evils that man had committed."

Kurogane thought of his father's blood strewn on the ground, of Suwa burning, of Fai huddling in that dark pit; and said nothing.

Finally Kamui turned back to Kurogane; for the first time since their encounter in the desert earlier that day, his expression was somber, completely free of hostility. "If you could accomplish that, who knows what else you'd be capable of," he said. "Maybe you could succeed in the high desert where all the others have failed. I'll speak to the nomads here, Nihon man, and tell them of your deeds. Any aid that we can offer you, I'll see that you get."

Morning sunlight poured into the room. The window was large, but the stone wall that it cut through was so thick that it cast only a block of sunlight at a time, moving slowly across the floor as the hours passed. Right now the block of light lit up a patch of the floor - grey stone turned silver and old threadbare rugs raising motes of dust - and the legs of the dining chairs.

Sakura usually ate breakfast here in the morning, with the servants waiting on her; today, unusually, Fei Wong Reed himself was in residence. He sat across from her at the table, the sunlight catching the hem of his dark robe and making the winged sigil glow, calmly buttering a stack of pancakes.

She watched him in fascination, her own breakfast of sausage and eggs lying half-eaten on her plate. Truth be told, she wasn't very hungry. She'd lain awake for hours the night before, tossing and turning while nightmares and visions wrestled in her head. Fragments of visions, snatches of voices, all clamoring in her head, and above all the sickening vision of the queen plummeting to her death… in that one terrifying vision, Fei Wong Reed had taken on a frightening aspect, almost like a sinister demon.

But it was hard to recall that now, in this peaceful dining room drowned in sunlight, sitting across from the man who had become her friend and mentor. Plates and cutlery clinked, and the sweet-savory smell of the pastry wafted across the table to her. Surely no dark and sinister mastermind could sit there and so calmly enjoy strawberry pancakes?

"Um," she said, clearing her throat in the silence of the room. Fei Wong Reed glanced up at her, and managed a faint smile - the most expression of pleasure he ever showed.

"Is the food not to your liking, my dear?" he asked, and signaled one of the servants over. It was Xing Hua, who usually accompanied Sakura on her way to and from her chambers. "I can have the cooks prepare something different for you."

"No, that's all right," she said quickly. "It's delicious, but I'm just not very hungry today. I've already eaten enough."

Beset by doubts and visions she had begun to wonder at her purpose, to wonder if she was really doing the right thing after all. Fei Wong Reed seemed so sure - everyone here seemed so sure - that the White God would fix all their problems. But the more Sakura stopped to think about it, she couldn't think how. Fei Wong Reed had not told her everything, she was sure of that now. The last night's dreams had made her half-sick with worry, and she had vowed that the next time she saw Fei Wong Reed, she would demand answers.

"I just wanted to ask…" Sakura hesitated a moment, then swallowed. No, she couldn't just come out and ask him, she didn't dare. She'd asked him about the visions once before, and he'd already told her to just ignore them; she was afraid for him to think that she had disobeyed. What else could she say? "I was just wondering… do you have a wife, Mister Reed? Or children?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, the bushy tufts going up like wings. He set down his fork and knife and leveled a stern look at her from across the table. "Why do you ask?" he said, his tone forbidding.

Despite her resolve, Sakura wilted a little under the force of his disapproval. "No - no reason," she said. "I just realized that although I've known you for weeks, I don't really know anything about you. I just wanted - to know you a little better."

"I see." Fei Wong Reed's voice lightened somewhat, returning to its usual boulder-granite gravity, and he transferred his attention back to his breakfast. "An understandable curiosity for a girl your age. But it's not a simple answer.

"Understand, dear girl, that as a wizard I have lived for many long years in pursuit of the White God. Yes, I have had wives in my lifetime, but as they were not wizards themselves they grew old and died in their time. Over enough time, one wearies of such things as love and marriage, and no longer feels the need for the companionship of a wife. "

"Oh," Sakura said, struck by the cold loneliness in his voice. She felt a surge of sympathy for Fei Wong Reed, living all those long years without anyone to share his life. "And - what about children? Did any of your wives have children?"

"Yes, many." Fei Wong Reed's grey eyes flickered across the room, lighting briefly on Xing Hua, before returning to Sakura. "Some of my children were wizards, some were not. As such they lived their own lives while I spent my years in study, and some of them grew and had families of their own - grandchildren and great-grandchildren, uncles and cousins many timed removed being born and growing up younger than their nieces and nephews. You would find that many of the men and women who live here, or who elsewhere in the world work to further our cause, are or grandchildren of my blood. But over the years I have to admit that I lost track of them all."

Sakura nodded slowly, thinking about that. Xing Hua had mentioned that too - that all the people living here were Heralds, but not all the Heralds lived here. That many of them were out in the world, working in secret ways to bring about the coming of the White God. "And, um… all of your children and family members, they're all of the same religion too?" she asked. "They're all, they all believe the same thing? That the White God will really save the world?"

A thread of doubt leaked into her voice despite herself, and Fei Wong Reed's keen grey eyes focused on her as he pushed his syrup-coated plate aside. "They are all loyal to their cause, and to me," he said. "Are you saying that you do not believe?"

Sakura looked down at her plate, a feeling of shame washing over her at his reproving tone. "Maybe," she mumbled, aware that she sounded like a petulant child but unable to say more in the face of his gaze.

Fei Wong Reed sighed, a deep rumbling sigh. "My dear, I wish to help you," he said. "It is vital for the sake of the world that you be clear-minded in your great task. If you have questions, please share them with me. I wish to soothe your fears and set rest to any doubts."

Sakura took a shaky breath, and nodded. He sounded so sincere, but how could Sakura tell him about her nightmares? How could she say that it was not his cause that she doubted, but he himself? Especially when he was being so patient and kind, her silly fancies seemed more unlikely than ever in this bright morning. "Um," she said. She groped for her scattered thoughts ."There's - there's something I don't understand."

He looked at her, inclining his head slightly in invitation. She began to feel a little more secure. "When the White God comes, all the people in the world will be united," she said, quoting one of his own lines of scripture back at him. He nodded. "But - even if all the people agree to stop fighting and hurting one another, that won't fix everything, will it? I mean - bad things happen in this world even without war. There's bad storms, and earthquakes, and floods and diseases. Won't those still be a problem?"

Fei Wong Reed nodded again, as though her question was perfectly reasonable. "You truly are a daughter of a statesman," he said, "to think of such questions. But the truth, my dear, is that mankind already has the power to safeguard themselves from such trivial hurts of the natural world. You have seen it at work in your own kingdom, many times."

"You mean magic?" Sakura said.

"Yes," Fei Wong Reed agreed. "With the knowledge and the power to tame the elements, most if not all of the disasters of nature can be mitigated, if not prevented. Sadly, in most human beings the flame gutters low; they are weak, and even in their weakness they turn on each other, and jealously hoard their magic for personal gain instead of using it for the betterment of all.

"But after the coming of the White God, such petty disputes will be set aside," he continued. "The power of her soul is unfathomable when compared to us mere mortals. In her presence, the spark of magic will be kindled to a flame in every man, woman and child; and united in purpose, we can easily use that magic to turn aside the ills of the world."

Sakura thought about that. "So you're saying that, when we have the White God, then everybody will be a wizard?" she asked. She liked that idea. The wizards she'd known in series had been good men, learned and kind. The notion of a world full of men like that appealed to her.

"In a sense, that is correct," Fei Wong Reed replied.

Sakura nodded slowly. Thinking about the wizards at home led her to think again of Fai - her foster brother, her mentor - and brought on such a wave of homesickness that the eggs and sausage she had eaten tasted like ashes in her mouth. "I wish I could talk to Fai-niisan," she said sadly. "I wish I could ask him -" She stopped, biting her lip, before she could blurt out the frightening vision she'd had.

"Ask him what?" Fei Wong Reed said.

"I… I had… bad dreams last night," Sakura said. She didn't want to say that the nightmares had come during the daytime, from the visions she'd seen while in her trance. Fei Wong Reed had already told her to ignore those, and she hadn't. "I hoped… maybe he could tell me what they meant. Fai-niisan was always so wise, and so kind. He would be able to tell me what to do… to make sure that nothing bad would happen."

Fei Wong Reed frowned. "The so-called Wizards of Ceres, however good their intentions, were foolish and short-sighted," he said. "They cannot begin to understand what we seek to accomplish here, and they stifled you and your abilities. At best, they would be useless distractions; at worst, they would seek to actively destroy this world's only hope of salvation!"

"Yes, but -" Sakura said in a tiny voice. She looked down at her lap, blinking hard. "I miss him."

Fei Wong Reed's breath hissed through his teeth, and he slapped one large hand flat on the table with a resounding smack. "This is not the time for such girlish indulgences," Fei Wong Reed said. "Nightmares and nursemaids! We are on the verge of a breakthrough that could revolutionize the world! Centuries of work, countless lifetimes of labor to bring us to this point, and you-!"

There was more anger in his voice that Sakura had ever heard before; like cracks of heat and light in a stone wall, revealing the presence of some unfathomable furnace on the other side. Sakura realized that she had pushed back her chair from the table and was now sitting with her legs curled up on the seat, hands pressed against her mouth. She blinked back tears, and Fei Wong Reed gave out a long sigh, the barely-glimpsed fury melting away.

"Sakura, you are young still, it is natural that you miss your childhood home and your family," he said. "But you do not need them any more. You have grown beyond them. You have talents and visions that they never knew about, that they would never have been able to understand. Do not think on them. Focus your mind instead on the task in front of you - the seeking of the White God among the myriad universes of the void - and do not worry so much about what will happen after. All will be taken care of in its time."

Sakura took a deep breath, and uncurled, nodding her head. "I… okay," she whispered, and Fei Wong Reed gave her one of his rare smiles.

"You are strong," he said. "You are brave. You are doing well. Do not let these doubts enter your heart and distract you. Only you can find the White God, and only your voice will be able to call her into the world. And when you have done so, there will be no more doubts or loneliness left in your heart."

"Okay," Sakura repeated, feeling a little stronger. His praise and encouragement warmed her as much as his earlier anger had frightened her, and she found herself wishing more than ever to please him, to succeed at her appointed task. "I will. I'm close, I know I am. I won't let any more… bad dreams get in the way."

"Well, then." Fei Wong Reed pushed back his own chair from the table, disregarding the scattered remnants of breakfast. "I shall leave you to it, my dear. Meanwhile, there are things I must attend to."

Rain drummed on the castle roof, so incessant by now that most of the inhabitants had stopped hearing it.

To any outside observer, the chamber seemed subdued and silent. Six women in red and white robes knelt on reed cushions, arranged in a circle around the seventh. Their heads were bowed, their eyes closed, and their breathing so low as to be almost silent. The pounding rain almost obliterated the whispers, barely audible, that dropped ceaselessly from each woman's mouth.

But to Tomoyo, sitting stone-still as the focus of the women's combined power, the scene was quiet different. Tomoyo knew that many people sensed the ebb and flow of magic differently; some of the demon hunters reported being able to track it like a scent, while other miko had described the experience as an intricate song or some other cacophony of sounds. For her, of course, that was impossible; and she had always envisioned magic as a tapestry of shimmering threads of light. To her eyes, the room was brilliant with light and color; an opalescent shell of moiré patterns constantly shifted with each word and breath.

Each of the miko glowed with her own power, and channels linked each of them with each other and with her in a gossamer spider's web; and beyond the walls of this dull chamber, linked again with a dozen colorful glows from far on the other side of the horizon. All who could answer her summons in person had done so; many could not, stranded or even physically trapped by the rising floodwaters or crumbled debris of their once proud empire. But they all rose to their duties all the same, in mind and in heart if not in body, and that was all that mattered.

Such a convocation of priestesses was a once-in-a-generation event, if that; unlucky indeed was a dynasty who faced the need to gather the mikotogether more often than once in a century. Yet the precedents and the rituals for such a gathering of magic were well known to Tomoyo, and as the Tsukuyomi she had the authority to gather them at need.

Today the danger the empire faced was greater than it had ever been before, and today something new had been added to the convocation. Many of themiko were Tomoyo's friends and fellow students, and their minds were as familiar to her as her own reflection in the water - yet there were others here today, as well. Men, which had been unheard of in any of the priestess' secret rituals since long before Nihon had grown to be an empire.

Unlike the softened, colorful outlines of the priestesses, the wizards were present like ghosts; drained of color and solidity, their features were nevertheless outlined in crisp detail. Their attitude was one of unease, uncomfortable and unwelcome in this old and sacred ceremony, and they looked for guidance to the pale-eyed young man with the ghostly apparition of spectacles perched on his insubstantial nose.

Tomoyo had only ever met the Seer of Ceres in person once before now, during that one hopeful day when she and her brother had hammered out the treaty between Nihon and Ceres that had never been signed, the peace died a-borning. But if they could not succeed together in peace, then perhaps they could gain a victory in war; and this was a war that only they could fight.

It was time to begin. Tomoyo closed her eyes, and her astral presence sharpened; although her physical body did not move, the action was as attention-drawing as though she had stood in a crowded dining hall. All eyes - and all minds - went to her, and she took a moment to compose herself before she sent her mental voice singing out across the miles.

"Daughters of the Rising Sun," she began, addressing her colleagues by their oldest and most ceremonial of names; "Wizards of Ceres, we have come together in this hour of our greatest needs that we may combat the enemy whose tempestuous magics threaten to smother us all.

"Our Enemy works from the greatest remove - from a distance of centuries as well as miles. We do not know his name, but by his works. We know, now, thanks to the information gathered for us by the Seer of Ceres and others -" she could sense a faint tint of disapproval from some of the gathered miko,a discordant light among the symphony, but paid it no heed. "- we know now that the great magics which have drawn the storm clouds over our country were set at work years ago, ready to be activated at a moment's notice in accordance to some diabolic plan. We know, too, that these are the same magic - and the same Enemy - who has called the fire out of the ground in distant Autozam, burying their great city in lava and filling the sky and ash. And we know too that this is the same Enemy who has brought the crushing sheets of ice out of the Windhome Mountains, forcing the people of Ceres to flee as their homes are ground to dust behind them."

That, at least, stirred no hint of satisfaction or joy from her fellow priestesses, which eased Tomoyo's mind about their awkward alliance. The last thing they needed now was to disrupt this fragile audience with political tensions. Shared information and intelligence was not the only thing they stood to gain by allying with the Wizards of Ceres; they needed all the power they could get. The miko of Nihon were, and always had been, primarily defensive and nature - their role had always been to protect and enforce the magics of hearth and home. But it had become abundantly clear that this was one assault they could not defend from within; they needed to strike out, and none of them had the training or the powers for such an offensive strike.

Ceres did. As Nihon had learned to its cost, the Wizards commanded sophisticated, advanced magics of terrifying destructive capability - yet there were only seven of them left. They had not the numbers, or the powers, or the capacity to mount a magical strike against their opponent.

And so they had devised this ritual, this strange and disjointed melding of two very different types of magic. She and Yukito Tsukishiro were the main lynchpins of this spell, as the two most powerful mages in both kingdoms combined. Together they were able to project an astral connection across the miles and draw the other magicians into it, to pool their power and their focus for this last desperate assault. The wizards of Ceres would lead the way, spearing a mental and magical assault against the loci of the spells that turned the very elements against them; and the miko of Nihon would provide them with the power to do so, more power than anyone in either country had ever amassed to a single purpose before.

"It is clear from his actions - and from the visions of myself, the Night-reader of Nihon, and of Yukito Tsukishiro, the Seer of Ceres - that this Enemy is not an enemy of Nihon, nor of Ceres," Tomoyo went on. "He is the enemy of all men and nations, of all life in this world, and he must be stopped, even if it cost us all our lives. It is for this purpose that we are gathered here today, united in mind and magic to defend our world against the depredations of our Enemy.

"It may well be that he will defend himself against our strike. With all the many years that Our Enemy has prepared this doom for us, it is almost certain that some unforeseen traps lie in wait for us." It pained Tomoyo to have to admit it, that her talent which had always guided her country before was rendered so blind and helpless by the specter of irrevocable destruction which haunted her dreams. For the first time in many years she could not see ahead , did not know if she was leading her people blindly into destruction; yet she knew she dared not hesitated. "It may well be that we will be hurt by his counterattack, that we may lose our minds or even our lives in our attempt to break his power. But even if that is so, sisters and brothers, we cannot fail. For if we fail, then there will be no one else to take up our gauntlet and preserve this world from annihilation."

That wasn't quite true. She hoped. There was one other possibility, one other champion who had set forth against their Enemy. She knew, from Yukito through Fai, that he was well on his journey, but that there were still many miles between him and the stronghold of their enemy. It was a distance that could be crossed in minutes by her strike force of assembled mages, but would take long days or even weeks to cross on foot. There was no way of knowing whether they had those days, or even hours; the light behind the door grew ever brighter as the moment of doom approached.

A lesser mage might have leaked their doubts and worries, broadcast their thoughts in such an intimate telepathic gathering; but Tomoyo had a lifetime of experience in controlling her thoughts and emotions, and allowed none of it to contaminate the astral channels as she 'looked' from one face to the next. They were ready, she knew without having to ask.

She raised her spiritual hands, gathering the luminescent threads about her; power pulsed through them, her sisters channeling their very souls trustingly into her grasp. On the other side of the gap she saw, rising like a fog, wisps of invocations as the Wizards of Ceres began their final preparations.

Tomoyo reached across the gap towards the Seer of Ceres, and as their souls clasped the magic poured between them.

"Let us begin," she said.

~to be continued...

Chapter Text

Syaoran stood in the early desert dawn and breathed in, reveling in the sensation of clean, cold air that seemed to crackle in his throat and lungs. He had missed this - for years he had missed this in the warmer, muggier country of Nihon. There was nothing there quite so invigorating as the smell of the dry desert in the early morning before the sun came up and began to heat the world.

Nihon didn't have sunrises like this, either - mornings there tended to be misty or foggy, obscuring the sun until it had risen well above the horizon. Here, the coming of dawn was heralded by a stunning lightshow in the eastern sky - dark blue gave way to pale blue, to violet and peach and pink like a rainbow in reverse, until it solidified at last to the true, brilliant gold of the sun's rays.

Syaoran kept on glancing up at the eastern horizon even as his hands worked, packing their gear - both new and old - into their saddlebags and traveling packs. Syaoran checked and re-checked their new desert gear, going over each item and impressing to mind its purpose: pale cloaks to reflect the sun's heat, canvas tents to shield them from the worst of the noonday sun and from the danger of sandstorms. Long, narrow, flanged tent spikes to anchor the tents. Casks of water, packages of salted food. The sun's heat would strip them of both water and salt; they'd need to be careful to maintain both, or fall victim to sunstroke. Maps. Compass. Swords…

They had traded away virtually all the gear they'd brought with them except for their weapons. After all, Kurogane suspected that the giant invisible spiders had been warped by magic coming from the desert in the east; the gods only knew what they would find when they traveled there. Even the Dragons didn't know; only the suicidally foolhardy ventured into the high desert plains, and none of them had ever returned.

They had everything they needed - or at least, everything they could get. Now all Syaoran needed was for his teacher to wake up. Syaoran had been somewhat surprised to waken in the pre-dawn hours and find him slumbering heavily in a bundle of thick blankets against the chill. He hadn't seen Kurogane sleep so soundly since they'd left Ruval; every night on the trail he had slept sitting up, hands resting lightly on his swords, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of danger. It made Syaoran wonder what had changed, in the last few days, to let Kurogane sleep trustingly in the camp of the desert bandits.

Whatever it was, Syaoran couldn't share in it; he hadn't slept well, and had been up again as soon as the sky began to lighten. Yesterday they'd finally, finally completed negotiations with the desert bandits to exchange their gear and mounts for desert supplies; working out the details of the trade had dragged on through the afternoon almost into night. Syaoran had been ready to start off right then, but Kurogane had declared it senseless to leave with so little daylight left to travel.

Syaoran had agreed, but reluctantly; and now that it was light again, he longed to be on the move again. His feet itched to be on the move again, his soul burned to return to the pursuit of his lost princess. Sakura, Sakura. He swore he could see her face outlined above the rising sun. The red-gold of the sunrise made him think of her hair; the pale green of the sky where night shaded into morning reminded him painfully of her eyes. When would he have a chance to see her again? Would he be in time to save her from whatever terrible fate awaited her?

Others in the camp were beginning to stir as the sky lightened, and the crisp cold of the pre-dawn air softened with the coming heat of the day. At last Syaoran's mentor appeared out of the central tent, stumbling and squinting slightly in the growing light. The desert nomads shied apprehensively away from Kurogane's stony glare, but Syaoran was used to it - at least in their house in Edo, when Kurogane wasn't keeping himself on a hair-trigger alertness during the night, his master had never been very good at mornings. That grim-set scowl and squinting glare were really nothing more than Kurogane's grogginess when forced to face the world at too early an hour.

Kurogane stood for a moment on the open ground, stretching his cramped muscles, then blew out a breath. He wasn't wearing his armor - another unusual gesture of trust - but the cold air didn't seem to bother him. He ran one hand through his hair, which was mashed flat on one side from sleep, and turned around, scanning the surroundings. When his gaze reached Syaoran, he paused.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, his voice only slightly blurred. Syaoran glanced over his shoulder briefly; it wasn't too hard to guess what his mentor was talking about.

"These are camels, Sensei," Syaoran replied. "They're desert animals - the nomads use them as beasts of burden."

"Okay," Kurogane said slowly, walking in a circle around Syaoran and the two beasts. "I guess a better question is, why the hell are my bags on that thing?"

"We're going to be taking these two with us," Syaoran said, reaching out to pat the closest camel on the neck. It snorted, shaggy skin twitching, and he hastily pulled his hand back before it could get bitten. "The Dragons agreed to give us camels for our journey into the desert as part of the supplies. Weren't you paying any attention last night?"

"No way," Kurogane said, his scowl deepening. "They barely come up to my chest. I'm supposed to ride these scrawny things?"

"You don't ride them, Sensei," Syaoran said patiently. "They're for carrying the gear and supplies. They store their own water, so they can go for weeks without needing a drink. We won't be able to spare any water for our mounts once we're out in the high desert."

Kurogane took a moment to digest this. "What about those goat-things?" he said plaintively.

Syaoran shook his head. "We can't take them with us," he said. "They're bred for mountain climates; the heat is too much for them, and they'd drink too much water. Besides, we agreed to give them to the bandits in exchange for Soel and Larg. Camels aren't cheap, you know. The Dragons will be able to make better use of them; they range up along the mountainside sometimes."

Kurogane grumbled something about this being the worst horse trade he'd ever made. "What and large?" he said.

"Soel," Syaoran said, pointing to the taller of the camels. The bigger one was a dark brown, and the smaller one a pale buff; they both had large brown eyes, shaggy fur covering their humps, and cynical expressions. "And the other one is Larg. That's what the Dragons named them - it's Vedan for 'little' and 'big.' "

Kurogane shook his head in disgust. "Can't believe we're going to give up a pair of perfectly good mounts to go wandering out into the desert with these mangy crosses between a dog and a - HEY!" he yelped.

The big man had moved too close to the two animals in his inspection, and the smaller pale camel had taken the opportunity to stretch out its neck and sink its strong, flat teeth into his pants leg. A brief scuffle ensued, and Kurogane retreated with a small tear in the fabric of his pants leg and a much bigger one in his dignity. "That fucking thing tried to eat me!" Kurogane swore. "I'm going to carve it up for dinner!"

"You can't do that, Sensei!" Syaoran exclaimed in a shocked tone. "We need these animals to carry our supplies out in the desert! Besides, that's just how they show affection."

"The hell it is," Kurogane growled, eyeing the pale camel with a dark look. "Seems to me they'd also make for good emergency rations, in a pinch."

Perhaps in reaction to Kurogane's fishy glower and threatening tone - camels were smart beasts, after all - the camel brayed a snort of disapproval, and then spat expertly into Kurogane's face.

Kurogane stood stock still for a moment, and Syaoran tried heroically to suppress his fits of laughter. "She really - must - like you, Sensei," he gasped, in between spasms.

The bigger man turned slowly away, shaking his head. "I can't deal with this," he said. "I'm going back to bed."

"Sensei! Wait!" Syaoran yelped, scrambling after him. "But, but we have to get started as soon as possible! We can't waste the light!"

Later that day, as they trudged across the desert landscape with their new companions in tow, Syaoran found himself wondering how he could have ever thought he could waste the light. There was more of it than he could have ever wanted, more of it than he'd ever dreamed; it beat down on his head like a hammer, poured in his eyes in a stinging flood. Even when he closed his eyes, bright silver and green blobs danced in his vision, shimmering off the dun-colored ground in waves. Syaoran found himself staring most of the time at Larg's dark-furred back, just to have something to look at that wasn't so bright.

He saw now the wisdom of the desert nomads' headcovers, which wrapped around the head and face and left barely room around the eyes for them to see out of. Without it, they no doubt would have gone blind within a few hours. As it was, even the narrowed, shaded view of the world was enough to pick out their way; they marked their direction by the position of the sun, the readings of the compass, and the sharp black shadows cast by the rocky landmarks of their path.

The desert nomads, despite avoiding the region as much as possible, had actually given them a fairly good description of their terrain ahead. The drylands continued for several days' walk to the east, with water sources becoming harder to find the further they traveled. At the end of the drylands, the rock and gravel would give way to shifting white dunes of sand, the high desert - and here the desert nomads' stories ended, because none who had ventured into that sea of sand had ever returned.

The land was mostly level, but not completely flat; the subtle roll of the terrain under their feet was hardly remarked as they trekked up one shallow incline and down the next. It was noticeable mostly in the way that the landmarks - irregular clumps of rock that thrust up from the landscape every few miles - would appear and disappear under the horizon.

Even the ever-present grass - dull green-grey or a dusty tan like the stone - was becoming sparser and sparser as they continued. Flat, bare stretches of rock occasionally topped an incline, but mostly the camels' feet crunched over gravel and loess worn out of the stones by centuries of blowing wind. In some places a fine sand skittered over the ground, rising as high as their booted ankles before falling away in a crystalline puff of wind.

They stopped for a few hours near noon, setting up the tent and taking shelter in its shade. Syaoran and Kurogane doled out portions of water and food, following the advice that the old desert nomads had given the travelers before they departed. Kurogane took the larger portions, which made sense, but surprised Syaoran when he realized - thinking back on it - that Kurogane had always wordlessly given Syaoran the larger portion before, instead. It was touching and embarrassing all at once, but Syaoran was glad he'd stopped; they had to ration their supplies carefully if they were going to cross the desert, and Kurogane's bigger body needed more.

Once the sun had passed on from overhead somewhat, they struck the tent and moved on. Despite the rest, Syaoran quickly found himself becoming fatigued to the point of exhaustion. The long empty distances they'd already covered - climbing the precarious slope of the mountains, fighting through the underbrush on the wooded slopes, crossing the hills of the savannah - barely seemed like a warm-up exercise to him now, although he was able to appreciate how much it had strengthened his endurance.

Miles and hours blended together in an endless, trudging parade of putting one foot in front of the other. Through the long hours of the afternoon trek Syaoran wished endlessly that they could stop and make camp, put up the tent and rest in its shade; only his dogged determination to find his princess kept him stoically moving forward.

When evening finally arrived and the oppressive heat eased away, it gave them both a second wind; they kept on going long after the last glimmer of the sun had vanished below the horizon, as the light faded from the sky and the stars came out in brilliant multitudes. They kept going as long as they could in order to make up for the time lost by the noon rest; but when the land was completely shrouded in darkness and they could no longer see any hint of their landmarks, Kurogane called a halt. They couldn't afford to lose their way in the dark; if they became lost in the desert, they could wander fruitlessly until they died of thirst.

Kurogane made a fire - out of habit more than anything else, Syaoran thought, since their food didn't need to be cooked. Still, the familiar light and cheerful warmth were comforting, and the two of them sat outside of their tent before the fire long after they had eaten their evening meal. Syaoran found himself staring once more at the stars to the east, thinking longingly of his missing princess. His gaze felt drawn repeatedly towards the east, not only for the view of the rising sun, but because that was their destination. How could they feel so close, and yet be so far?

A flicker in the sky, like a distant fire, caught Syaoran's eyes, and he blinked. "What was that?" he said, breaking the silence.

"What?" Kurogane turned towards him. His mentor hadn't been looking at the sky; he'd been focusing on the land around them, keeping his senses open for a night attack.

"I thought I saw…" Syaoran trailed off uncertainly. Another light flickered across the dark sky, and Syaoran jumped to his feet. "There!"

Kurogane frowned at the sky. "The hell is that?" he muttered.

"A meteor shower…?" Syaoran said, staring fascinated upwards. "It's not like the ones my father told me about, though…" A meteor - or a meteor shower - ought to flicker across his eyes in quick white streaks almost too fast to follow. These lights lingered in the sky for several seconds, and Syaoran thought he could discern colors in them - not just white, but yellow-green and red-orange.

"There," Kurogane said suddenly, and Syaoran twisted his neck to see what his mentor was pointing at. The first lights had appeared in the east, but another series of flashes were coming alight to the south-west, in the direction of the sunken sun. "D'you suppose it's the same thing?"

"I don't know," Syaoran said. "Sometimes in the far north you get lights - auroras - that hang in the sky, but we're much too far south for that…"

The lights didn't fade away; more and more of them rose, to the southwest and to the east, rising high into the sky. They looked almost like fireworks, if any fireworks could be so vast as to span the vault of the heavens over such a great distance. There were no noises, of course, just lights - and all of Syaoran's learning was at a loss to explain what it might be. "I guess it's some kind of desert phenomenon," he said at last, but that felt no more useful than saying he had no idea at all.

After about a quarter of an hour, Kurogane let out a breath and rolled to his feet. "Lights or no lights, we need to get some sleep," he said. "Whatever it is, we can't do anything about it now."

"I guess," Syaoran said reluctantly. He was fascinated and entranced, not only by the beauty of the lights but by the mystery. The scholar that was his father's son itched to document it, the directions and intensity and duration, and to search in the literature to find some kind of cause. It went against the grain to leave a mystery so unsolved; but Kurogane was right, there was no way they could learn any more tonight.

The next day was very much like the first. Days spent plodding over the rock and gravel, nights spent traveling long after dusk before setting camp. The mysterious lights did not reoccur, and after an hour or so of halting speculation, they gave up wondering what could have caused them.

Kurogane had never been the most talkative of traveling companions, but in the barren, oven-like heat of the desert air they both lapsed into taciturn silence. They spoke only to confer over the maps or debate over a nearby landmark; the directions given to them by the Dragons of the Desert were supposed to lead them to a well or a water hole several day's walk eastward. They'd need to refresh their water supply there before they crossed into the high desert, or else they'd never make it.

Syaoran had become so numb to the details of the terrain they traveled, he didn't understand at first why Kurogane called a sudden halt and jumped aside, manhandling his complaining camel away from the lumpy hillock they'd been climbing over. He watched in confusion as Kurogane scuffled around in the dry dust for a few minutes, kicking aside some rocks and dead grass and brushing fine sand off the rock below.

But it wasn't stone, he realized with a small shock. There was something… odd about the hard surface under Kurogane's hand. "Sensei?" he hazarded.

Kurogane grunted satisfaction, then took a step back. "I thought so," he said. "Come look at this."

"What am I looking at?" Syaoran asked, even as he came to his mentor's side. Then the answer came to him with a gasp; the 'hill' they'd been traveling over wasn't a hill at all. It was the crumbled, desiccated remains of one of the giant spiders they'd fought in the lowlands west of here; the 'grass' he'd ignored was the bristling hair that drooped from the monster's legs and head.

"It's… dead, right?" he said hesitantly, although it seemed quite dead. Dust and sand had blown over it, outlining and obscuring its shape at the same time. "It's… even bigger than the last one…"

"Stone dead," Kurogane said, then glanced up and around, frowning. "If the magic that did this to them came from the east, then the closer we get to the source of the magic, the bigger they're likely to get."

Syaoran frowned unconscious agreement. "But didn't you say that where there's something to eat, there's things that eat them?" he said. "Doesn't that go the other way around, too? If there's something around, there has to be something that feeds them?"

"There'd have to be," Kurogane agreed.

"But there's no cows," Syaoran pointed out. "So what do they eat?"

Kurogane didn't answer, but gathered the reins of his camel and set off again.

For the rest of the day, though, he kept his eyes open to the lumps and protrusions scattered across the sandy desert floor. He saw no more dead spider carcasses, but he did see bones, scattered like trash across the barren landscape. Some seemed familiar to Syaoran, and some not familiar at all.

They passed through one field like a graveyard, a whole herd's worth of cow carcasses picked clean by the sun and wind. It felt eerie, as much for the silence and absence of any scavengers as by the white bones and empty skulls of the skeletons. And later on, off to the south, they approached a gleaming white set of bones half-buried in a hill. Syaoran had paid it no mind at first, assuming it to be another cow, but he did a double-take as they slowly approached it from the distance and the size became apparent. It had only appeared small when it was far away; by the time they actually passed it, the fallen ribcage spanned a gulf half again the size of a house.

Syaoran tried hard not to think of what sort of a creature could leave behind bones like these; tried even harder not to think what could have killed it.

There were other things to worry about instead. Strangely, Syaoran wasn't too troubled by the thought of what awaited them at the citadel. Maybe he was just too out of his depth to be afraid; while he knew in the abstract that the mysterious kidnapper was a dark and evil wizard, and that wizards were dangerous enough even when they weren't dark and evil, he didn't really have a frame of reference to fit that into. He wasn't a wizard, he knew nothing of magic - not even the tame, domestic magics of the Nihon priesthood. He didn't know what to expect - he didn't even know where to begin, and so he mostly just didn't let it bother him.

Finding Sakura again, that was the important part. Somehow he just knew that once he reached the wizard's stronghold, once he laid eyes on her again, then everything else would just work itself out all right.

Besides, they still had a long way to go before they even got to that point. A more serious concern was going to be water. Syaoran and Kurogane were rationing their water supply carefully - following the desert nomads' explicit instructions on how much to drink and when, and not a drop more, no matter how their thirst cried out for it. But the plain fact was that the water supply would be the measure of how far they could travel. Soel and Larg could only carry so much weight, and any extra they tried to carry themselves would just exhaust them all the sooner.

The Dragons had provided them with explicit directions to springs and deep wells in the dry desert. They came across the first site early on the third day - it was unmistakable, a dip in the landscape like a shallow pan, its bottom lined by thick scrub surrounding the pool of water at its lowest point.

But the vegetation was dry, brittle and dead, and the pool had dried to a hard mud crust at its center. Kurogane made no attempt to hide his agitation; "First they foist these damn defective horse-dogs off on us," he said, sharing an evil look with Larg. "Then they send us to a dud watering hole! Are you sure this is the right place?"

"I'm sure," Syaoran said. They had followed the directions carefully, and the shape of the dell looked exactly as the others had described to him. "They haven't come out this way in years, Sensei. They had no reason to, and they were afraid of the wizard. It probably just dried out naturally."

"Natural," Kurogane snorted. "As if any place can be called 'natural' that spawns ten foot high invisible spiders…"

Syaoran listened to his teacher's familiar griping, and heard the real tension and concern underneath it. Because if the desert nomads' knowledge of the terrain was so outdated, then this might not be the only wellspring which had run dry in the intervening years.

On the other hand, it might be just this one surface pool that had dried up; the other, deeper wellsprings might be perfectly fine. They weren't actually running low on water; they had several days' worth left still. They'd only hoped to top off their casks at this spring as a precaution, but they had plenty to last them to the next watering hole.

He took a deep breath. "We go on," he said. He projected as much confidence into his voice as he could, but he could hardly believe his own audacity. He half-expected his teacher to tell him he was being stupid, to turn them around on the spot and head back towards civilization.

Kurogane was silent for a long moment, and when he did speak at last his voice was quiet. "It's your journey, kid," he said, his voice deep and reserved. "It's your call."

The second wellspring, miles on, wasn't dry - but it was tainted, some strange effluvium that seemed to darken the pool below even though the spring as it trickled over the rock seemed perfectly clear. There was a smell to it that was hard to define, that set every hair on Syaoran's neck on end; the camels wouldn't even go near it, let alone drink, and that was what finally decided them to move on without stopping.

They reached the third wellspring at the end of the sixth day, an hour after dusk, as their water supplies were running low in the cask. It was distinctively marked - as their directions had promised - by a sharp granite pillar thrusting into the sky, like a tree with no branches. The little island of harder rock sat apart from the softer, crumbling gravel and sand of the desert surrounding it, and the wellspring sank deeply into the granite outcropping. On the eastern horizon, the setting sun reflected off a line of gleaming white hills that towered above the desert floor; the sand dunes, the high desert plain.

The third wellspring was also dry.

Kurogane and Syaoran didn't speak - there wasn't much to say, although Syaoran felt a sick tension clogging his throat. They would have to turn back - they had no choice, there was no possible way they could cross the high desert with the water they had. The remainder of their supply probably wouldn't even last them the journey back, retracing their steps across the dusty bone-strewn plain. After they ran out of water, they would have only their own bodies' reserves to draw on in the final leg of the journey; it might be enough.

Or it might not, in which case they'd die before they ever reached the far side of the desert.

Dry-mouthed and sick, Syaoran tried to wrap his mind around the idea that they might not get out of this alive. This was his fault; he'd been the one to drag his mentor out here, insist they keep going even after the first wellspring had been dry. Maybe he should insist that Kurogane take all the water, in order to get back; the only thing that held him back was he wasn't sure Kurogane would accept it. Knowing his mentor, Kurogane was just as likely to try to press the rest of their supplies on him, instead.

The strange thing was, even now, Syaoran didn't want to turn back. He felt guilty and afraid, but mostly he just felt frustrated. To have come so far, only to be turned back at the last moment - it was unbearable. Sakura was out there, across the desert just a bare handful of miles away; when he closed his eyes he could almost see the connection stretching between them, taut and shimmering with the weight of destiny. He couldn't turn his back on her; he might as well try to walk off without his own feet.

They made camp; they had little choice in the matter, since it was too dark to travel in any case. They spoke little, and ate and drank even more sparingly than usual, though the painful dryness of his throat and tissues made Syaoran dizzy.

As he crawled into his bedroll, shivering, Syaoran squeezed his eyes closed and tried to think of something to pray to. He hadn't been raised in the Shinto religion that was native to Japan, but if his father had believed in a god - one of the many gods he'd studied in his travel - Syaoran couldn't remember anything about it. Nihon believed that the land had a thousand god-spirits, that each animal and element had one, and often each place had one that was sacred to it. Did this desert have its own kami? If so, was it evil like the sorcerer himself, or did it hate the dark forces that invaded its land as much as Syaoran did? Did this land long for the removal of the infection that had burrowed its way in deep over time?

Help us, he sent out his thought in an unformed prayer, to no one in particular. To someone. Anyone. We have to get rid of him. We need water. For the princess' sake, for the world's sake, we have to fight him. But we can't fight him if we can't cross the desert and we can't cross it without water. Can't you help us? Can't you…?

Eventually, he dropped off to sleep.

In the middle of the night came a sharp crack, and a rumble that shook Syaoran groggily from his sleep. Kurogane was already up, sword in his hands as he crouched by the flap of the tent. "What is it?" Syaoran said groggily, voice raspy with sand and sleep. "Thunderstorm?" He'd never heard of a thunderstorm this far out in the desert, but he couldn't squelch the fleeting flicker of hope…

"No," Kurogane said, poking his head out of the tent. The air was dry as ever, the stars shone brilliantly down from overhead. Syaoran heard a noise; a clattering of rock, a pattering of sand and gravel falling to rest, and…

"An earthquake?" Syaoran asked, pushing himself up and groping for his weapon. What he hoped to do with a wooden sword against an earthquake he had no idea, but he had to do something.

Kurogane didn't answer; he pushed his way out of the tent, the flap falling back in the darkness. Syaoran scrambled after him, and without the muffling of the cloth the new sound resolved to his ears.

It was the rushing of water.

"Sensei!" Syaoran said excitedly. The sound was coming from the rock pillar, and Syaoran dashed off in that direction before coming to a stunned halt.

The bright stars and half-moon gave barely enough light to see by, but the pale sand and gravel of the desert helped reflect and amplify it. The tall granite pillar had split as though struck by lightning. The base of the pillar was lost in dark stone and shadows, but the sound of flowing, bubbling water - combined with the smell of it, once remarked, never forgotten - was unmistakable.

"I can't believe it!" Syaoran exclaimed, lurching forward to stick his hand - somewhat recklessly - into the shadowed stream. The shock of cold water was a delight on his hand, and he cupped his hands to bring a mouthful to his lips. There was no dangerous aura, no smell of corrosion - the water tasted sweet and pure. "The well came back, just when we needed it! There must have been an earthquake, enough to split the rock and let the stream find the surface again. Can you believe the luck?"

"It's pretty hard to believe," Kurogane said, his voice quiet and hard to decipher. He was staring out into the endless shadows of the desert night, as if expecting enemies or demons to spring to life and drive them away from the new spring.

Syaoran was ecstatic, all his guilt and frustration and fear washed away like the splitting of the stone. "It can't be a coincidence, Sensei," he said firmly. "We can't stop now, we can't turn back - this is a sign that we're meant to be doing this, that our journey has to happen. Someone must be looking out for us!"

"You're right," Kurogane said after a long moment, sheathing his sword and turning back towards Syaoran and the spring. His face was completely shadowed, but his voice was thoughtful. "Someone is looking out for us."

Below.

Sakura glanced around, surprised by the sudden word. It sounded like a woman's voice, like someone had just spoken into her ear.

"Did you say something, Xing Hua?" she asked. The older woman was brushing her hair again; she seemed to take some pleasure from the soothing repetitive action, and would often offer to brush Sakura's hair for her even before she asked.

"Hmm? No, Mistress, I didn't," Xing Hua said respectfully. She hesitated a moment - the brush faltered on its way through her hair - before both voice and brush resumed. "Perhaps it was… another of your little hallucinations? Master Reed did say to pay them no mind…"

"No," Sakura said, and was surprised at how true that seemed when she said it. The visions - although they'd sometimes included sound and voices - had never come quite like this. They appeared and disappeared in fast, sometimes incoherently garbled snippets, and they never took any mind of her at all - like true echoes, they were only repetitions of things that had come before. After the conversation with Fei Wong Reed over breakfast, Sakura had redoubled her efforts to shut them out, and slowly they had faded away until they were no more than background noise while she focused her mind on other tasks.

Below.

But this was different. There had been no searing visions, no warping of reality. It simply felt like someone had spoken a word into her ear, directed at her, not to shades of long-gone strangers.

"Xing Hua, what's underneath the citadel?" Sakura asked. She glanced into the mirror as she did, watching the change of expression on Xing Hua's face as she said it.

Xing Hua hesitated, worry and indecision flickering over her features, even though her steady hands didn't falter this time. "What a thing to ask, child," she said. "It's really nothing important, or anything you need to know about."

"Mister Reed told me about it, the first time I used the throne," Sakura said quickly. "He said that it was drawing power from something underground. I guess I just wondered what kind of amazing thing could produce all that power."

"The master told you about that?" Xing Hua hesitated for a moment, wavering on the edge between circumspection and honesty. "Well… I suppose it's all right, then. Yes, child, there are caves and caverns underneath Eden. Most of them are empty and not worth attention, but some of them we enlarged and converted for other uses. In one such cavern the great crucible resides, the focus of much of the Master's art."

"But what is this crucible thing?" Sakura wanted to know. "Mister Reed mentioned it, but he didn't explain what it is. If it's related to what I'm doing to find the White God, don't I need to know what it is and how it works?"

"If you needed to know, the Master would have told you," Xing Hua said firmly. "But truly, Sakura, there is no point in asking me. Such things are far beyond my meager understanding of magic."

"Oh," Sakura said.

Below.

"Well, is there anything else there?" Sakura wanted to know. "In those other caverns you talked about."

"Some are used as storage," Xing Hua answered. "Mostly of foodstuffs and other necessities."

"Dungeons?" Sakura asked with interest.

"Of course not!" Xing Hua reacted with shock, drawing back and looking down at Sakura with surprised outrage. "There are no dungeons in Eden! Why would we have such things here?"

"Well, there were dungeons back in the castle at Ceres," Sakura explained. "I used to play in them when they were empty. I just thought every place would have them."

"I see," Xing Hua said, calming down. "Well, we do not. I promise you that, princess. We are here to help save the people of the world. Why would we confine them against their will?"

"Oh," Sakura said, unable to conceal her slight disappointment. So, whatever the voice was, it wasn't coming from some prisoner held beneath the earth.

Find us.

"I'd really like to see these caves, though," Sakura added wistfully. "They sound so exciting. And I'd like to see this great crucible thing. I've seen so many wonderful things since I came here, I'd just like to see the thing that makes it all possible."

"Absolutely not," Xing Hua said, regaining some firmness. She set the brush down on the table and picked up a short length of white ribbon, beginning to tie Sakura's hair back out of her face. "The Master would never approve of such a thing. It would be far too dangerous for you, and you might disturb the Master's great workings and cause all sorts of trouble." She paused, and the hands in Sakura's hair turned her head to look at Xing Hua square in the face. "You are not to go near those caverns, understood?"

"All right," Sakura said.

And that was it. Sakura stopped trying to argue about it, and Xing Hua, relieved, went back to plaiting her hair.

One thing Sakura had learned, long ago, was that the sort of people that made rules declaring where little girls couldn't go weren't generally interested in hearing arguments from little girls about why they should be allowed to go there. Passionate hysterics or wheedling logic were equally useless once they'd made up their mind.

But what Sakura had learned was that once she'd made up her mind, there was very little to actually stop her from going where she pleased. Adults might disapprove and lecture sternly after the fact, but as long as she didn't make a big production out of where she was going to alert them, there was nothing they could do about it. It was usually better to ask forgiveness than permission; and even if not, at least you'd accomplished your goal in the meanwhile.

She would need to get rid of her attendants, though. That was no minor task - ever since she'd come to this stronghold there had always been at least one female attendant on hand, sometimes others hovering in the background, and guards posted out of any room she was in. This caution had never struck Sakura as particularly odd; she'd lived her life as a princess, and servants and guards had always been part of her mental landscape.

That meant, though, that she also had a long experience in ducking said attendants when she wanted to be alone.

Sakura coughed, voice rasping in her throat as she raised a hand reflectively to cover it. Xing Hua and the other attendant - whose name Sakura couldn't quite remember, Hina something? - glanced over her, but didn't comment. Neither did she.

She kept coughing, though, with increasing frequency over the next hour. At last Xing Hua put down the garment she'd been folding and came over to her, feeling her forehead with concern. "Lady Sakura, are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Sakura admitted, her voice slightly scratchy from all the coughing she'd been doing. "I don't have a headache… well, not really..."

Xing Hua and the other woman exchanged concerned glances. "You can't become sick," Xing Hua exclaimed. "Not now, of all times, when we're so close…"

"I'm cold," Sakura said, letting just a hint of a whine into her voice. "Can I have some hot tea? With lemon and chamomile?"

Xing Hua hesitated in the act of turning to the door. "I know we have lemon," she said doubtfully, "but I'm not sure about the other…"

Sakura made big, hopeful eyes at her. "Fai-niisan always said chamomile was best for preventing colds," she said. "Can't you find some, Xing Hua? If you love me?"

An unaccustomed flush crept up in Xing Hua's fair skin. "I will try, Mistress," she said in a rush, before curtseying and hurrying out of the room.

That left just one. Sakura allowed the other attendant to herd her into bed, but made a show of shivering and chattering her teeth as the woman drew up the blanket. "Can I have another blanket, please?" she said.

The woman wavered, obviously unwilling to leave her alone. "You should not be unattended, my lady," she said. "Especially now, if you're getting sick…"

"I'm just going to lie down for a while," Sakura said. "I want to rest and get better as quickly as I can, so that I can get back to finding the White God for Mister Reed and everyone."

It was a cheap trick, but effective. She didn't know this servant as well as Xing Hua; she wasn't even positive of her name (Was it Hinata? Or was it Hinoto?) But all of the servants here shared one interest; they wanted to help Fei Wong Reed accomplish his dream of summoning the White God into the world, and would do anything to help that goal. This woman was no exception. "Lie still," she told Sakura, and hurried out of the room in search of a second blanket.

As soon as she was gone, Sakura grinned and sat up, tossing the blanket aside and swinging her feet to the floor. She counted to ten, then snuck over to the door and peeked out; there was a guard in the corridor, but he was looking the other way after the departing servant. It was easy for Sakura to sneak past him, her soft-shod feet making no noise on the stone tiles.

Below.

In the end it wasn't particularly hard to find the stairwells leading down. Sakura hadn't expected it to be; after all, this was Fei Wong Reed's home, the stronghold of the Heralds. There was no reason for hidden doorways or secret passages, since no one had any reason to believe that unfriendly or suspicious eyes would come sneaking around.

After weeks spent in the chapel, Sakura was familiar with most of the rooms and corridors in the great stone complex. But there was one hallway she'd never been in before - one that her attendants always guided her away from, even though she'd seen Mister Reed walking down in that direction more than once.

It was empty now, which was a relief to Sakura as she set off to explore. She walked carefully down the stone hallway, frequently putting her ear to the wall or her hand to the floor and listening. There was a subtle change of vibration in the stone, a feeling of hollow emptiness when there was space behind it. The hallway branched, and the echoing feeling of empty space led off below the branch. Sakura followed.

At the end of the short branching hallway was a tall set of heavy double doors, heavy wood painted black and set with elaborate silver runes on the panels and the arch. Sakura couldn't read these runes; they tingled like magic, but they weren't any of the rune-words she'd learned in Ceres. Still, the portal had a feeling of heavy weight, of solemnity and power, that infused Sakura with a mixture of apprehension and awe.

The door was not locked or barred. Sakura pushed it open, and found a curving stone stairway leading down.

It was a long way down. Much longer than Sakura had anticipated. Sakura was used to scampering easily up and down stone stairways, but this stone tunnel curved around and around and down for so long that her calves began to protest the treatment. She cringed to think of what the climb back up was going to be like. Sakura estimated that she had climbed down as far as the highest tower in Ruval was from the ground, and the stairway showed no sign of stopping yet.

Still, her curiosity - and the persistent whispering - drew her onwards. Exploring the underground tunnels made her feel oddly homesick, reminding her of her adventures in the palace of Ruval with Syaoran.  She wondered how they had carved out all this from solid rock; the stone walls were perfectly smooth and didn't look at all like natural caverns. Magic must have been involved, but Sakura knew better than most that magic didn't just instantly grant wishes with no effort. This stairway had taken a long, long time and a lot of work to make.

There was a strange feeling growing in the air of the tunnel. At first she thought the air was growing warmer and warmer, but she wasn't sweating. Then she thought instead it was growing sharply colder, but she wasn't shivering. There was a smell in the air that was no smell at all, an electric feeling like walking over a thick hearth rug in the winter; but instead of snapping out in a bright shock when she touched the wall, the feeling just built and built until every hair wanted to stand on end. Sakura took deep gulps of air, and even the breath in her lungs seemed to fizz and burn.

At last the curving stairway flattened out into a dark tunnel. A strange, almost subliminal roaring seemed to fill the air, like the sound of thunder or a crowd in the distance. Light glowed from somewhere up ahead, and Sakura followed it; all of a sudden the ceiling and the ground both seemed to open up ahead of her, and Sakura gasped aloud.

Here.

Her voiceless breath echoed in the vaulted chamber ahead of her. This must have been the natural caverns Xing Hua had told her about; even with magic, no man could possibly have excavated such a space out of solid stone. But whatever shape and texture the original cave possessed had been smoothed away, the walls and ceiling rising in grand curves to meet in an arch high overhead. The walls themselves were incised with runes, so thickly that it looked almost like embroidery even though each individual rune was almost as tall as Sakura. The network of runes glowed a dim red-orange, but that was not the source of the light.

The tunnel had opened up to a wide ledge, almost like a balcony, surrounding a vast space in the center of the cavern. A low stone wall bordered the ledge, forming a lip to protect against slips. The walkway circled the width of the cavern, and Sakura saw other dark mouths opening at intervals on the far side. Her stairway was obviously not the only way to get down to this place.

At other places the walkway extended in ledges like stone towards the center of the cavern, but Sakura found she had absolutely no desire to get any closer. In the very center of the cave, shooting up from the vast gulf below to the pinnacle where all the arches met, hung a beam of light. Where it met the stone above it was funneled into layered rings of stone and disappeared into the ceiling, and Sakura understood suddenly that this chamber lay directly below the throne where she searched the worlds for the White God.

Which meant that this must be… the crucible that Fei Wong Reed had spoken of. Fascinated, Sakura crept forward until she could see over the low stone railing; the wave of energy that poured over the railing seemed to want to lift her from her feet.

Below her, the cavernous gulf stretched away to unknown depths; the dark stone of the cavern floor was buried well out of sight. Instead, the golden pillar stretched upwards from a heaving sea of light. It was difficult for Sakura to guess how wide or deep it was; even as she looked at it she got the eye-hurting sense that the laws of the natural world didn't quite work the right way here, as though the world itself bent under the weight of the pool. It seemed at once both a liquid and a spirit, spiraling one way around the center in a great maelstrom and yet the opposite way at the same time. She could not tell what color the light was; it seemed gold and silver and white and black all at once, like the substance itself and the light that radiated from it were two completely different shades.

The one thing she could feel without question, though, was the power that rolled off it in waves. There was again that feeling of hot/cold that she had felt in the tunnel, but magnified many times. Fei Wong Reed had been right to call it volatile - and dangerous. Even standing hundreds of feet above the surface of the strange well, she could feel the fizzing, cold-burning sense of magic churning agitatedly in the air. It was contained, but only barely; the massive stone walls and vivid rune-wards could mark its limitations, but they could not tame its raw, unfettered power.

She saw now the wisdom for the railings, and could almost wish they were a hundred feet thick; any careless stone or unfortunate being to fall into that pit would be vaporized by the sheer intensity of its energy long before it reached the surface. For the first time, Sakura truly comprehended the scale of power needed to pierce beyond the boundaries of the world and seek contact with other dimensions; coming face to face the sheer scope of the power source that Fei Wong Reed had harnessed was truly humbling. Neither Sakura nor any of the wizards she had known could have dreamed of such an accomplishment, or pretended to such ambition.

And yet…

Below.

There was something….

Find us.

About the well…

Here.

That kept drawing her attention…

Daughter.

Sakura leaned heavily on the stone parapet, staring down into the conflagration below. The voice had led her here. The voice had called out to her from below…

In the mass of fettered energy, the howling hurricane of power, shapes flickered and disappeared. Voices called out, not the clear concise whispers of before, but a faint, indistinguishable cacophony of a hundred different voices crying in a hundred different languages. Faces, bodies, hands, forming and then dispersing into the seething light. Each one accompanied by an image, however brief, a memory of fear or pain or terror of wrenching loss. She'd seen them before, not knowing what she saw, when she'd drawn upon this power while sitting on the throne far above.

Impurities, Fei Wong Reed had told her. Residue of source of the power you are channeling.

The moments of their death.

She'd found the seat of Fei Wong Reed's power. And it was Hell.

Chapter Text

They made the final climb to the high desert plain before dawn.

Kurogane had traveled plenty in his lifetime - more than almost any of his countrymen, for sure - and had seen plenty of different types of landscapes. Forests, grasslands, marshes, mountains - none of them bothered him. He'd even adapted to the hot drylands below pretty well once they'd gotten the right type of gear from the Dragons.

But this desert landscape, buried in endlessly shifting dunes of sand, was like nothing he'd ever seen before. It hardly seemed like a real place at all; it was more like something out of a nightmare. The whole place seemed soft, unformed somehow - the great sand hills shifted even as he looked at them, their edges eroding in the constant wind that blew fine-ground particles into his face through cracks in his armor.

It was much harder to even walk in this stuff than Kurogane would have expected. Each step was an ordeal, as his boots sank deep into the ground and threatened his balance as he struggled to pull it free again. It was as bad as walking through deep mud - worse, as the sand filtered its way into his boots and rubbed sharply against his feet with each increasingly heavy step. Kurogane was exhausted before an hour had passed, but they had no choice to keep pushing onwards, fighting against the enveloping sand and winds.

No one who entered this desert had ever returned.

Kurogane was not normally one to waste time and energy bitching about the indifferent elements, nor to ascribe human qualities to inanimate objects. But within a few hours of climbing up onto the desert plain he was beginning to hate it with a dull, passionate intensity. And he was sure that it hated him just as much.

Only the camels seemed relatively unperturbed by the landscape. But then again they were built for it, their wide-belled feet supporting those knobby knees; Kurogane caught Syaoran leaning his weight increasingly on the black one as the morning wore on, and wished the dog-horse-things were tall enough for him to do the same. Syaoran weighed less than he did, but he also had smaller feet to spread out over the sand, so it was about an even wash.

Walking through the sand dunes was like being encased in a bowl. As soon as they crested one sandy hill and stumbled slipping down the other side, they lost sight of everything that might have been behind them, and the only thing that could be seen in front of them was another line of the shifting dunes. There were no landmarks; the only things the travelers had to guide them were the sharp black shadows that the sun overhead made under their feet, and the compass that guided them steadily eastward.

The grueling trek had a numbing effect on the body and brain, inviting a sort of half-asleep stupor as they trudged on step by step into the desert. Kurogane fought against it with every ounce of his discipline. He couldn't let himself forget that somewhere in this desert they would find the dark sorcerer's most dangerous defenses, whatever great demons or monsters he set in this unreal terrain to guide the last approaches to his lair.

No one who entered this desert had ever returned. Kurogane intended that they be the first.

Hours slipped by them, though, with no sign of any danger. Kurogane kept all his senses on high alert, but he could sense neither the burning taint of demonic energy nor even the normal, quieter life-energy of animals. Not even the background hum of plants. Only once before in his life had he passed through a country so empty - the dead zone surrounding the lair of the Master of Demons.

At length, Kurogane's sun-wearied eyes spotted a break in the shifting horizon. He raised his head and squinted towards it, trying to focus past the glaring sunlight and shimmering heat waves rising off the sand. Much to his disappointment, it wasn't a grand castle or citadel that would mark the end of their journey - just a rock of a slightly darker color, cresting above the waves of sand. But at least it was a landmark.

"Hey," he called out to Syaoran, his voice raw and parched from the long morning's silence. Syaoran looked up at him, blinking uncertainly. "Let's head over to that rock and set up camp. It'll give us the high ground, let us see whatever's coming."

"Okay," Syaoran agreed, his voice as scratchy and tired as Kurogane's. They altered their course slightly to the south - not by much, it was almost on their route - and pushed forward.

Another hour crept by, as endless as the blowing wind. They trudged over one sand dune and the next, but the distant rocky hill proved strangely elusive. It dipped below the horizon as they descended a sand dune, but didn't reappear when they crested the next hill.

Kurogane frowned and pulled to a halt, the black camel snorting indignantly as he shaded his eyes and scanned the horizon. There was his landmark, off to the left of the way they were going. "We've turned too far to the south," he told Syaoran.

"What?" Syaoran looked up at him in surprise. "How is that possible?"

"It's easy to get turned around here, I guess," Kurogane said, and the thought sent an uneasy chill down the back of his sweat-soaked neck. "Go a little to the left."

They set off again, and yet the distant hill of rock didn't seem to come any closer. The wind picked up slightly, peeling sheets of sand from the tops of the dunes and dashing them along the slopes. Sight of the distant hill wavered and blurred in Kurogane's vision behind the blowing sand, then vanished. Confused, Kurogane looked around, and spotted it far off to his right. He pulled to a half.

"Turned around again," he explained to his ward as Syaoran looked at him, confused. "At this rate we'll be going almost straight north."

"Sensei, that can't be right," Syaoran exclaimed. "According to the compass, we're facing due east."

"What?" Kurogane stared around, then turned to look behind him. Their trail was plain in the sand, leading up the gradual slope of the last hill - but it showed a wide, wandering bent, threatening to circle on itself in the shade of the last hill. Already the blowing wind was beginning to erode their footsteps, making backtracking impossible. "Unbelievable," he muttered.

He turned back to Syaoran. "Forget the hill," he said, tersely. "Just keep going due east. No more side-trips."

They had barely set off again when Syaoran let out a cry of despair. "Sensei, look!" he yelled out, as he stared unbelievingly into the compass in his hand.

Even as Kurogane looked, the needle of the compass swung slowly from its steady northward path, wobbling momentarily eastward before rotating firmly to the west. For a moment the compass needle pointed directly at the afternoon sun.

And then the sun itself began to slide across the sky.

"Magic," Syaoran whispered, his voice strangled as the blood drained out of his face. Kurogane could have screamed a curse to the heavens, but he choked back on the cry. Magic! How could he not have anticipated this?

Their enemy was a warlock, one who warped time and space to his whim. Of course there would be no demons, no monsters guarding his citadel. Why would he need them? All he had to do was surround himself with a desert that bent space and direction and the laws of reality itself - a wall-less labyrinth where any pour soul who set foot there would be doomed to wander fruitlessly in circles until they died of thirst.

No one who entered this desert had ever returned. And now Kurogane understood why.

There was no way out. They couldn't even follow their own trail backwards - it ended after a few hundred yards, erased by the remorseless winds. Without landmarks, without anchors, in this blank sandy hell where even the sun and the sky were not constant, they would be trapped here forever.

Kurogane felt an unaccustomed panic creep up on him, as he contemplated the horror around them. Anger, he'd always drawn on anger in battle, bent it to fuel his determination and drive his sword. But here there were no demons, no sorcerers, no enemies to fight at all - only the implacable, impersonal tides of the sand and the wind. He felt as though he were already being buried, sliding into a smooth catchless pit of soft white sand that would bury him, cover him, smother him, patiently wear away the flesh to his bones.

He couldn't fight this. He couldn't fight.

"Sensei," his student was saying, and the low intent tone of his voice managed to pierce through the haze of Kurogane's helpless horror. "I have an idea. Follow me."

"What?" Kurogane managed to choke out. Syaoran grabbed Kurogane's gauntleted hand and guided it firmly to his own shoulder. "Hold on," the boy instructed him.

And then he closed his eyes, and began to walk forward.

For the first dozen steps Kurogane stumbled after him in a kind of stupor, bewildered by Syaoran's incomprehensible actions. Then Syaoran suddenly turned sharply to the right and kept going; Kurogane found himself jerked after him, the camels snorting indignantly behind as they were towed on their leashes.

Another dozen steps, and then Syaoran turned to the right again. "Kid, what are you -" Kurogane began.

"Trust me," Syaoran said, and Kurogane shut his mouth.

The minutes and steps crept by as the strange procession blundered forward; Syaoran leading with his eyes closed, Kurogane following with one hand on his shoulder, towing the camels behind them. Every few minutes Syaoran would suddenly change direction, sometimes sharply, sometimes imperceptibly. Once he stopped and turned them nearly completely around before he set off again.

But Kurogane saw, as he cranked his head uncomfortably over his shoulder, that their trail of footsteps had become straight again. Somehow, despite all the twists and turns, they were finally making a steady progress eastward. And when he turned around to look ahead of them again, the dark-colored rock that he'd spotted earlier had grown closer.

The desert did not like being resisted. The wind picked up to a howl, throwing sand so heavily that Kurogane's could see nothing but blowing, churning clouds of dust between the high peaks of the sand dunes. The dunes themselves shifted around them - far faster than the wind could carry them, they seemed to melt and subside in one place, only to rise up suddenly in another.

When the sun itself split in the sky, the bright heavenly orbs suddenly casting a multitude of shadows in every direction under their feet, Kurogane too closed his eyes. It was that or go mad.

By the time they reached the rock outcropping it was already dusk. Or so Kurogane assumed - he had lost track of time hours ago. All the sun-images had sunk below the horizon except one, and that one let out only a pale, wan imitation of true sunlight. The wind had risen to a howl and the speed of the flinging sand was beginning to get dangerous, so they set up camp in the slightly-more-sheltered lee of the the weathered sandstone cliff.

Syaoran pitched their tent the way the Dragons of the Desert had taught him, stakes driven deep into the sand and the canvas edges pulled tight against the wind. The sandstorm outside filled the small space with a constant rushing noise, as though they had set up camp under a waterfall. They brought the camels inside with them, which annoyed Kurogane quite a lot, but not enough to distract him from the real question.

"All right, kid," he said, as he lit the glass-cased lantern and set it on a patch of level ground. They couldn't risk a fire, but he wasn't willing to just sit here in the dark. "What the hell was going on out there?"

Under the pall of exhaustion brought on by the grueling day's travel, Syaoran looked triumphant. "I told you before, Sensei," he said. "I always knew this was the right way to find Princess Sakura."

"You said you had a feeling," Kurogane shot his own words back at him. "That's not the same as walking around with your eyes closed like a festival stuntman."

Syaoran flushed, though it was hard to make out in the dim light. "It's hard to explain," he said defensively. "I didn't think you'd believe me."

"Try," Kurogane said.

Syaoran rubbed his hands over his wind-chapped face, then leaned over to pull at their saddlebags. The camels snorted, the pale one stirring in the small space, but they were just as exhausted as the humans from the day's trek and seemed content just to settle down to rest. Syaoran pulled out some traveling food from the bottom of his pack - dried fruit strips and bread - and offered some to Kurogane, who took it wordlessly.

"At first it was like - just an impulse," Syaoran said around a chewy mouthful. "As though someone were tugging at me with a string, always pointing eastward. But the further we got from Ceres - well, the closer we got to where Sakura is, I suppose - it got stronger and stronger. It got the point where I could almost see it out of the corner of my eye - like I was seeing an echo with this eye," he said, reaching up to tap the left side of his face, the eye that had always been silvery and blind for as long as Kurogane had known him.

"I can close my eyes -" he did so now, and a soft, wondering smile spread over his face. "And I can see it so clearly now, like a cord that stretches from my heart off into the distance. It always points to the east, and as long as I follow that path I won't ever get lost. I could follow it over the edge of the world into Hell, and it would always lead me the right way."

Kurogane stared at his student. Syaoran seemed perfectly calm, unaware of the magnitude of the bombshell he had just dropped. "You -" He stopped, his voice grinding to a halt; he had to cough and swallow his bite of bread, washing it with a precious mouthful of water, before he could speak. "What exactly do you think that is?" he said in an almost normal tone, only slightly strangled.

Syaoran looked surprised that Kurogane needed to ask. "It's obvious, isn't it?" he said. "It's the string of fate, the one that connects star-crossed lovers. Just like all the stories talk about. When two people are destined to meet and fall in love, a red thread appears to tie their souls together. Sakura and I were meant to meet, and I was meant to be able to follow her so I could rescue her. It's destiny."

Syaoran kept on rambling on about soulmates and fate and reincarnation, but his words kept fading in and out of Kurogane's ears as the implications of Syaoran's unexpected little talent spun out before him.

Up until now, Kurogane had gone along with this mad trip purely on faith - not faith in Syaoran, but faith in Fai. Fai had asked him to follow Syaoran and keep him safe and even though Kurogane hadn't understood why, he'd agreed. Oh, there had been other things - the monsters, the stories of the Dragons of the Desert seemed to support Syaoran's assertion that the evil sorcerer's lair was out here in the high desert somewhere, but Kurogane had written that off to pure lucky coincidence. He'd followed Syaoran up a mountain, down a forest, through battle with monsters and bandits and the endless sucking desert heat, but he had not for one minute believed that Syaoran really knew where he was going.

And now, it seemed, he had known all along.

Most incredibly, how had Fai known? Because Fai must have known, Kurogane saw that now; all that bullshit he'd spouted back at the castle about love being a special kind of magic that would draw them together was just that, bullshit. But Fai had known, when he'd sent Kurogane off on this wild goose chase with him, that Syaoran would be able to find his way through the wizard's deadly labyrinth. And he hadn't wanted Kurogane to know that he knew.

Why?

And Fai wasn't the only one, Kurogane realized suddenly. He remembered now the odd way that all of the wizards of Ceres - not just Fai - had reacted when Syaoran appeared in the shattered throne room after Sakura's kidnapping. At the time he had been too distracted and overwhelmed by the madness of King Ashura and his murderous spree to take much notice of it; but the more he thought back on it, itwas odd.

Hostility he could have expected, given Syaoran's tactlessness at the time - even frank outrage at the boy's nerve. But they'd acted like they were afraid of him, even then - the way they pulled back from him, the way they had all suddenly deferred when he declared his mad intention to dash off after their missing princess. The shocked, fearful tone of voice when they spoke in their own language so that neither Syaoran nor Kurogane could understand. The way that Fai had been careful to make sure that Syaoran could not read his lips.

Don't tell Syaoran about me, Fai had asked him. Begged him. Don't let him know I'm here at all.

Why not? What did Fai know about Syaoran that Kurogane did not? Kurogane had known the boy for years, by all the gods; he'd practically raised him. Syaoran was his student. Syaoran couldn't possibly have any connection to wizards or princesses or any of this mess; he'd never even been to Ruval before he'd come there with Kurogane…

I kept remembering images of the years I spent in Clow, Syaoran had said, smiling across the crackling fire. When the portal opened into Sakura's room, the air had that same smell. There's no way to describe it - you'd just know it if you'd been there.

Why did Syaoran know what the sorcerer's homeland smelled like?

And then it was like something shifted in Kurogane's mind, like a line of stone blocks which had lain jumbled and inert for years in his head suddenly turned themselves to line up perfectly with a click he could almost hear. Like they formed a pathway in his mind, one that carried him inexorably along from one stepping stone to the next.

These are the Eyes of Ko, said the bear-furred soldier, anger and hostility frost-hard in his eyes. When they glow, an enemy bearing hostile magics approaches.

This is what happened before! Syaoran hissed, pulling at his sleeve. This is exactly what happened when I came here before!

Because Syaoran had gone to Ceres before. Once before. The time that his father had died.

My father didn't do anything wrong! Syaoran shouted passionately over the dinner table, he hadn't done anything at all, but they still arrested him and they killed him because some wizard said he was a spy! He wasn't!

As far as I could determine, he was just an ordinary man, Fai whispered, in the darkness of the stone tunnel, a years-old regret for an innocent man he had been forced to condemn. But something set off the border wards, without question. And Kurogane had wondered then, as he wondered now: Why would Fujitaka tell Syaoran to run, then let himself be captured and executed for magic he didn't possess?

At the time it had seemed so obvious to Kurogane; he couldn't think why it had never occurred to Fai - or to Ashura. Fujitaka was protecting his son, of course. But that was impossible. Kurogane knew Syaoran, had known him for years. There was not an ounce of guile or deceit in his soul, and he possessed not a scrap of magic himself. It was absurd to think that he could have been reporting or passing along information to some far-off wizard that at the time they didn't even know existed…

It is the simplest charm in the world, the Master of Demons said with a smile, holding out a plain pair of glasses. What one pair sees, the other pair sees. And once it is set in place, it is virtually undetectable.

For a while, it seemed like everyone was telling me you were coming, he'd said.

Don't look for me, Fai had said. Don't let him see me.

And Kurogane felt now the same horror he'd felt then, when he'd realized that all their weaknesses had been stripped bare, their smallest movements revealed to Kyle Rondart. He felt cold, as raw as though the sandstorm outside was raging inside his mind, scouring his thoughts to bleeding numbness.

Someone has been trying to get a spy inside our court for years, Fai said. Someone is searching for her, and it would be a disaster if he ever found her. Sakura must never be seen, must never be found.

Princess Sakura had been kept a secret from her birth. The Wizards of Ceres had gone to immense lengths to hide her, to keep her away from prying eyes and set up walls and wards around their castle that no enemy sight could pierce and find her. And yet within days of Kurogane and Syaoran arriving at Ruval Palace, it had all come crashing down. How could he not have seen it before? No wonder the other Wizards had looked at him with such fear and disgust.

Syaoran was a spy for their Enemy.

And he had been all along.

As before, Sakura had no warning when reality ripped itself open behind her. She saw only a peculiar light, a yellow-green halo - which was so like the energies of the well below that she didn't at first realize it was different - before a sudden force yanked her irresistibly backwards.

The stone cavern and the brilliant deadly pool of souls vanished abruptly into the dark fog; Sakura stumbled, staggering and blinking, trying to find her footing on a suddenly carpeted floor. By the shape of the walls and ceiling, the style of the furniture and decorations, she was able to identify it as a room somewhere in the citadel - but a room she'd never been in before.

"You stupid little girl!" a familiar voice thundered from behind her. Sakura gasped and whirled around to see Fei Wong Reed standing there, arm outstretched over the last sparkling wisps of the fading portal. "How dare you disobey, when you'd been clearly told to never go to the underground chambers? You could have ruined everything in one careless moment, you little fool!"

In his dark robe, with his dark hair streaked with white and a furious expression, Fei Wong Reed looked less like a mountain than a thundercloud. He seemed to tower over her, seething with barely restrained power and fury that threatened to leak out in every direction in little flashes of lightning. At any other time, Sakura would have been terrified, humiliated to tears at his displeasure. Now, though, she found such thoughts and feelings were strangely distant to her. Strangely numb. It all came second to the horror of the deep chamber underground full of light, and what she had discovered there.

"They're people…" she breathed out, slowly raising her head to look Fei Wong Reed in the eyes. "They're people down there, and they'retrapped! They're scared and hurting and, and, how could you do this to them? To anyone? How could you? What gives you the right!"

Fei Wong Reed's fury was abruptly quenched, or at least contained by a sudden uneasy wariness. "My dear princess," he rumbled. "You misunderstand. This is needless. It is natural that you would be moved by such an upsetting sight, but I assure you it was none of my doing. The font of power we gave the name the Crucible of Souls has always existed; it is the natural fate of the souls of our world before they pass on to their next life. It was here many years before I discovered it and built my cathedral here. I merely harnessed its power…"

Sakura felt a sharp tingling in her head, reaching up to press her hands underneath her ears as though she could soothe the feeling away. She recognized the sensation, with a deep sickening uneasiness; it was how she had always known, somehow, when someone was telling her an untruth. "You're lying," she whispered, horrified. Fei Wong Reed had never lied to her before.

He tried to speak again, and Sakura cut him off with an upward shriek, clamping her hands over her ears to block out his words. "You're lying!" she screamed at him, tears streaking her face. She was crying and screaming like a little girl in a tantrum, and she knew it, but she couldn't stop herself. "You're lying, you tricked me! You're a horrible, cruel person and I don't want to help you any more! I want to gohome! I want to go home!"

Fei Wong Reed had gone very still, shocked into silence by her hysterical outburst. Sakura gulped back a sob and lowered her hands, struggling to get herself under control. "Don't you dare lie to me again," she said sullenly.

"Indeed," the man rumbled, and there was a faint, almost self-deprecating smile on his face that didn't seem like the Fei Wong Reed she knew at all. "It was my own errors; I should have known that particular talent would make you sensitive to untruths. So be it, then."

Sakura eyed him warily, feeling for balance in this strange conversation. She'd expected to be scolded, at the least, for her indiscretion in sneaking away and barging into an area she'd been expressly forbidden to venture. But somehow she seemed to have knocked Fei Wong Reed back on the defensive. "I want to go home," she said experimentally, defiantly. "I don't want to help you any more, not if you're going to be using those poor people. It's wrong and I won't do it any more!"

"But, my dear girl," Fei Wong Reed said, and it seemed that he'd regained his usual iron self-control. "Where would you go?"

Sakura stared at him, confused, and Fei Wong Reed turned his back on her. He raised his arms, the heavy sleeves of his robe falling like dark curtains across the room, and the wall of the chamber beyond him began to flicker and glow.

She hadn't spared the attention to look about her before, but she did now; the tall, broad stone wall of the chamber was traced with runes and patterns that were very familiar to her. It was the stone chair embedded into the floor of the chamber, facing the wall - very much like throne - that triggered the association; this was a viewing portal, not unlike the one she used to search through the worlds for the White God.

But instead of one large stone ring full of a deep and fathomless light of magic, this portal was filled with rings within rings, lines looping about themselves as endlessly as a labyrinth. Images began to fill the dark stone surface - not one just image but a dozen, flickering over each other. Each of the smaller portals seemed like a window into a different world - no, Sakura realized with a jolt, all the same world. They looked out onto landscapes wooded and barren, marsh or rocky, lonely or peopled - but they were pictures from this world, no others.

This must be how he observes what's going on in the world, Sakura thought, momentarily fascinated into forgetting her anger. Through those 'seeing eyes' that Xing Hua told me about. Are these all the servants of the Heralds? She saw a quick succession of landscapes; a rolling hillscape from above, a churning sea of water. A doorframe in the Nihon style, sliding sideways to open; a dark, sandy interior, lit only by lamplight shining on plain canvas walls.

"I did not wish to burden you with this knowledge," Fei Wong Reed spoke, distracting her from the parade of images. "I feared it would only distress you and distract you from your task. The truth is that Eden is the last sanctuary left in this world. Beyond our borders, all is chaos and disaster. Princess of Ceres, you no longer have a home to go back to."

"What?" Sakura gasped. A chill seemed to jolt through her, cutting through the heat of her righteous anger. "What, what do you mean by that?"

"Look," Fei Wong Reed said.

The image resolved into one she recognized at last: the Windhome mountains, the Ruval valley cradling the palace where she had been raised. But something was wrong - the contours were all different. The white ice of the snow-capped glacier poured down into the valley like icing oozing down the side of a cake. The castle was engulfed, the town completely buried by ice. Only the castle remained above its glistening blue-white surface, seeming bereft and alone. "But, but, how can this happen?" Sakura exclaimed, upset and confused. "I've only been away for a few weeks! Is this some vision of the future? Fai-niisan and the others… they'd never let this happen!"

"It is a vision of the true now," Fei Wong Reed replied. "Your father contracted a terrible illness, one that drove him mad. In his delirium he struck out in a mad fury, and killed all of the great noblemen who surrounded him. The Wizards of Ceres themselves were also struck down. Without their protective magics, there was nothing to halt the advance of the glaciers."

"No," Sakura whispered.

The vision of the ice-tombed valley seemed to wheel and recede; other images crowded for its place. Flashes of the Windhome Mountains from lower angles, further down the valleys; the glacier had indeed crept like a cancer far below the snow line. Sakura caught a remote, clear vision of a line of ragged refugees, women and children carrying heavy burdens on their back, trundling down a mountain path. Behind them crawled a caravan of mule-hauled wagons, seeming barely to move faster than the deadly, inexorable pace of the ice.

"They are leaderless and scattered," Fei Wong Reed said. "Even if you were to go to them, princess, they could not support you. And you could not help them by becoming one more refugee among many."

Once again the images of Ceres - the shambles of Ceres - flickered and receded. In their place flashed a bewildering, terrible parade of visions. A town of Nihon-style peasant huts was drenched and battered by a ferocious storm; muddy floodwaters flowed ominously up the street, rising by inches even before their eyes. A force of water-darkened men and women labored frantically to build a barricade of sandbags and wooden beams; even as they watched, a sudden rush of water surged against the meager barricade and punched a hole through it. Dark brown water covered the whole scene, blinding them. Sakura gave a small shriek of fear, covering her face as though the water would come swirling through the portal to consume her.

"Open your eyes, girl," Fei Wong Reed snapped. "You cannot make this reality go away by hiding from it. The very earth itself rises against the kingdoms of man."

Sakura made herself look. Other images followed, each more terrible than the last. Dark-skinned people ran from their strange-looking houses into the streets and desperately made for the water's edge, screaming and crying as they looked over their shoulders behind them. A dark, terrible cloud followed them, rising up to blot out the sun; faster than a horse could run it followed, and it enveloped them, pinning them up against the edge of the waterfront and covering all in a layer of smothering ash. In other places, houses and streets dropped into bottomless pits as cracks ripped open the earth. In other places, terrible fires raged endlessly…

With difficulty Sakura tore her eyes away from the horrific parade of apocalyptic visions. Fei Wong Reed was right; the whole world was convulsing from disaster. "Did you know?" Sakura demanded, whirling about to pin Fei Wong Reed with her gaze. "Did you know all this was going to happen?"

Fei Wong Reed inclined his head in a grave nod. "Among the servants of the White God, we have several seers," he said, "not unlike your Wizard Tsukishiro in Ceres. They foresaw many events, including your birth and the time your powers would come to maturity. We knew it was imperative to bring you to safety and sanctuary, before any of these visions could come to pass."

"Why aren't you doing anything?" Sakura cried out, feelings of resentment and betrayal stirring past the shock and horror. "What did you gather all that power for, if not to help people?"

Fei Wong Reed looked exasperated and angry. "The currents of sky and sea, the movement and formation of the earth, these were nevermy gift of magic," he said. "My talent lay only in studying and manipulating the boundaries of space and time, to observe and perhaps bridge a path to other worlds. Saving the world is precisely what I am trying to do, you stupid little girl, in the only way that it can be saved now!

"Not all the wizards of Ceres, Nihon, or every other country working together could put to order the chaos that has spilled out over this world - even if they could bear to put aside their petty hatreds and work together. But the White God can bring peace and unity of purpose, and bring magic to enough people's souls to allow them to push back the devastation. And only you, Sakura, can bring the White God to save us."

"But…" Sakura was reduced to a whisper, grasping around her for shreds of reason. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know what was right any more. "But… it's not right, all those people… they're in so much pain…"

"Sakura." Fei Wong Reed fixed with a heavy gaze, stern and judging and… with just a little hint of compassion showing through, pity and contempt for her youth and weakness. "There is no force that can bring them back to life now; the dead are dead beyond reclaim. I do not repent what I have done, because I did it to bring about a greater good than can ever be imagined. Their suffering, while regrettable, is necessary to save the lives of countless others.

"But you, Sakura - will you let all their deaths be in vain? Will you let all their sacrifice go to waste in this final hour?"

The words hung there, heavy in the chamber air. Behind Fei Wong Reed, the horrific visions still flickered and flowed across the wall behind him. Fei Wong Reed was not lying. She knew that, as certainly as she had detected his falsehood before. Every word he spoke was the truth.

"You have to promise to let them go," Sakura said at last, her voice wavering and broken. "After this is all done, and - and the White God is here, you have to promise to let them all out. So they can go on and be born again, or whatever."

Fei Wong Reed balked. "I do not see - " he began.

"Promise," Sakura said fiercely. "Or else I won't help you any more." She raised her chin defiantly; her lower lip was trembling, so she bit down with her teeth to still it.

Fei Wong Reed stared at her, measuring; whatever dark thoughts went on behind the iron-hard grey of his eyes, she could not guess them. "Very well," he said quietly. "When our purpose here is done, and the God comes unto this world, you have my promise that the spirits of the Crucible will be at peace."

Sakura took a deep breath. That was good enough, wasn't it? That had to be good enough, Fei Wong Reed had to keep his promise. This was the only way she could help them now. "All right," she said.

Kurogane stood abruptly; the sudden movement startled Syaoran out of his rambling, lovestruck soliloquy. "Sensei?" the boy asked uncertainly. "Is something wrong?"

There was just no way to answer that without sounding ludicrous, or without drawing Souhi to strike Syaoran down - and that was something he could never do. Confused and frustrated, Kurogane mumbled "Need some fresh air," and headed for the tent flap.

Fortunately the worst of the sandstorm had passed over them already; although the wind still moaned across the dunes and scratched against the heavy canvas tent, it no longer threatened to blind him or flay the skin from his flesh. "Be careful," he heard Syaoran call out behind him as the tent flap fell. "Don't go far! Remember, the landscape might shift on you!

Kurogane ground his teeth together in frustration; he was trapped, well and truly trapped. Even if he could have brought himself to attack his own student, he would have been cutting off his only means of guidance or escape. He couldn't even leave Syaoran, abandon him to his fate in the desert, without condemning himself at the same time. The two of them were well and truly yoked together now, and the only way out was forward.

And Kurogane knew who had yoked him. He strode a few paces away from the tent - not out of sight, but well out of hearing - and stood a moment, breath panting harshly through pinched nostrils. "Mage," he snarled, keeping his voice to little more than a savage undertone. "I know you're out there, mage! Don't play games with me."

Slowly, a pale shape appeared in the churning, sandy darkness at the corner of his eye. Only a little lantern light escaped the tent flap, and no moonlight penetrated the obscuring dust clouds overhead; but Kurogane's night vision was very good. He didn't need to turn to face Fai to know he was there.

"You knew," Kurogane grated, barely able to get the words out past the tight fury clenching his chest. "You knew he was a spy."

"Yes," Fai admitted. His voice was so soft, it seemed to blend in with the steadily blowing wind around them.

"And you hid it from me." Kurogane turned around, facing Fai at last. The other man was a pale blur in the desert darkness. "This was what you didn't want me to know. Why you refused to feed from me for so long."

"You couldn't know, Kuro-sama," Fai tried to explain himself. "It would have ruined everything."

"And so you tricked me," Kurogane spat. "Packed me off on this foolish snipe hunt, babysitting a traitor -"

"Treason requires intent, Kuro-sama," Fai interrupted. "In that at least, I believe the boy to be innocent. He has no more knowledge of his true nature than you did before tonight."

"But you knew!" Kurogane challenged hotly.

Fai nodded grimly. "As soon as I set eyes on Syaoran, I realized who and what he was. Any of us would have recognized that there wassomething odd about him - specifically, about his left eye - but I had something… of an advantage." He smiled bitterly, his lips twisting up on only one side of his face. "Magic has affinity for its own kind, you know; and I recognized the spell on Syaoran's eye because it was very similar to one that was used on me, last fall."

Seishirou, Kurogane realized with a jolt of horror. He remembered the strangely precise pattern of half-healed scalpel cuts in the ruined socket of Fai's eye. What had Seishirou been trying to do?

"When I saw him, he also saw me," Fai continued his explanation. "The warlock controlling the spell realized that he'd been found out and he set off his ambush immediately, before I had time to act on my discovery. He sent a spell through to Ashura to drive him mad - and while everyone was distracted, he reached through space and snatched Sakura out of her bedroom. And so… all of this."

"That doesn't explain why!" Kurogane exclaimed, his frustration tipping to the boiling point. "Why all this façade! Why set this up, this whole trip, this… everything? What did you need that kid for so desperately that you went to such trouble to clear the way for him? And send me along to make sure he got this far?"

"Because," Fai said sharply, the tilt of his head and the set of his body belying intense aggravation. "He was the only one who could get this far, Kuro-sama. The only one who would be able to find the dark warlock in time."

"Ridiculous," Kurogane scoffed. "You're saying one stupid bewitched kid blundering after dreams and visions could do better than your entire cadre of wizards back in Ceres?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Kurogane!" Fai snapped at him.

Kurogane stared at him, momentarily stunned into silence. Fai turned away, only the pale white hood of his cloak shining through the darkness.

"Two nights ago," and there was a frightening catch in Fai's voice, like it was all he could do to keep his voice from breaking, "the combined forces of the miko of Nihon and the wizards of Ceres launched a joint attack on our enemy."

"The lights!" Kurogane remembered the strange flashes in the sky, camping out in the desert two nights ago. "But what…"

"They failed," Fai said flatly. "He was waiting for them, and he's had hundreds of years to get ready. The magical circle was smashed, their power broken. It will take them years to recover, if they ever do. They will not have the chance to try again."

That stopped Kurogane cold. It was hard to wrench his thinking around, reorder his mind to these new priorities. The wizards of Ceres - the grand magicians that had so easily defeated Nihon on the battlefield - had failed? The miko - "Tomoyo!" Kurogane said, suppressed panic making his voice rough. "What happened to her? Is she all right?"

Fai was silent for a long moment. "I don't know," he said finally, and Kurogane could tell from the tone of voice that he did know, or at least had some good ideas, but didn't want to share them. "But that isn't important right now, Kuro-sama. You can't go back to her now. You must concentrate on the task at hand. Tomoyo… may yet live, it is not certain, but if the warlock is not stopped, it is certain that she will die. And the rest of the world with her."

Kurogane had nothing to say to that. In the face of losing Tomoyo - the princess he had sworn service to all his adult life - there was nothing he could say. Because he knew Fai was right, and he would have hated him for it if not for the pain and grief buried in Fai's voice.

"We knew we might fail," Fai said in a low voice, grim and exhausted. "In fact, we were almost certain of it. The only one who would have any chance at all of finding him in time would be one of his own people - someone who had a magical connection to him, one that would guide them past his magical defenses. So we sent Syaoran out, let him go to find the princess - and incidentally, his own master. You followed him. And I followed you."

"Was that what this spell was about, then?" Kurogane asked, flexing his hand for emphasis. "So you could track me in the wilderness?"

Fai snorted, a sound oddly like Kurogane's usual exasperation. "No, for two reasons," he said. "For a start, it would have been incredibly dangerous - any spell that I could use to track you, every other wizard in the area could also track. Besides, it would have been completely redundant - ever since I fed on your blood, I can find you wherever you are."

"But that means…" This was the realization that Kurogane had been struggling not to face, because of the hopeless dread it brought. "If he can see everything through Syaoran's eyes… then he knows we're coming."

"Yes," Fai admitted.

"Then how -" Kurogane began angrily, but Fai cut him off.

"He knows you are coming," Fai emphasized. "And he's done nothing to try and stop you. Why should he? The boy is one of his own people, and what has he to fear from one lone warrior?

"Our enemy is a warlock of immense age and power, and he's been practicing his craft for hundreds of years now. His magic is so powerful that he regards mere physical strength as completely inconsequential. We hoped - we couldn't be sure, but we thought that he would disregard you completely, since you have no magic. You would be no threat to him, and he would ignore you."

"So what's the good of any of this, then?" Kurogane demanded, angry and still hurt, inside, that Fai had not trusted him. "If the kid and I are the only ones who can reach him, and neither of us acn fight him! What was the point of this journey in the first place?"

Fai smiled, wan and ghostly. "You'll have me," he said. "Why do you think it was so vital that Syaoran not see me? I made a point of letting him know back in Ceres that I was staying in Ruval, that I would not accompany you on your journey. So long as Syaoran does not see me, our enemy won't either. With any luck, I'll be able to take him completely by surprise."

Kurogane nodded slowly, calming. It felt good to have a plan, good to know that Fai was at his back. Which reminded him - "That rock," he said. "The spring that broke out of the ground, two nights ago. That was you, wasn't it?"

Fai nodded.

"Thanks," Kurogane noted, and Fai's breath puffed out in a tense laugh.

"You're not… angry?" Fai looked up at him, hope and wariness warring in his expression. "That I - hid the truth from you?"

Kurogane snorted. "Hell yes, I'm angry," he said, his voice flint-sharp and hard. "You didn't trust me. You thought it would be easier to keep me in the dark than to bother to explain things to me. It's going to be a while before I forgive you for this."

Fai's face drained white, and he bowed his head.

"But I still love you," Kurogane continued. "And I don't have time to waste sulking right now. We could all die tomorrow; and if we don't, we're going to have our hands full saving the world."

He held out his hand. "Come here," he said.

Hesitantly, Fai came to him, his hands alighting on Kurogane's arm like the bird he had transformed himself into. Kurogane pulled him in bruisingly tight, and took one selfish moment to revel in the pleasure of having Fai in his arms. He could feel the rapid beating of Fai's heart, smell his hair and skin, and Fai was pushing himself too hard again. "You know what to do," he said gruffly. "Don't give me grief over this."

Fai wavered anyway. "Don't you think Syaoran will suspect…?" he asked hesitantly. "If you come back in with blood all over your shirt, or a bite on your neck…"

Kurogane paused a moment, thinking. Fai had a point - and after all the lengths Fai had gone to conceal his presence from Syaoran, it would be such a waste to give up the game now. And even if Syaoran didn't guess the truth, the thing watching from his eyes might.

So instead Kurogane shifted Fai in his arms until they were face to face, close enough that he could feel wisps of Fai's hair brushing his cheeks. Kurogane took a deep breath, clenched his teeth and bit down, hard, on his own tongue. Pain and the bright red taste of metal filled his mouth, and he heard Fai gasp. There was no way he could fail to smell it, as close as he was.

Kurogane tightened his arms around Fai's shoulders - not that he seemed to be trying to pull away - and pressed his lips against Fai's. Fai opened his mouth willingly, hungrily, and let the blood flow from Kurogane's mouth to his. It felt strange, very strange, to taste Fai's lips and the sharp hot tang of the blood at once, to feel the pleasure of Fai's tongue brushing against his mixed with the savage pain of the self-inflicted wound.

And the blood bond stirred, reasserting itself as Fai drank from him. Kurogane welcomed it, the pain ebbing away as Fai's hunger and gratitude and eager satiation washed over him.

I'm so sorry, Fai's voice whispered in his mind, stripped of all pretense. I'm so sorry I lied to you. But you are such a good man, you can't condone any evil. And your heart is too honest. I couldn't make you live a lie for weeks while you traveled with him. Better for me to be the liar.

The first pulses of blood slowed, and Kurogane broke the kiss, pulling back just a few inches. "Don't take too much," he muttered thickly; the blood still pooled in his mouth and made it hard to speak. "I need to be strong tomorrow." Whatever would happen in the coming battle, it promised to be grim.

"I have no fear of that," Fai whispered. Kurogane felt Fai's eyelashes brush against his cheek as he leaned up for another kiss, drinking the crimson flood off Kurogane's tongue. It really was a small wound, in the grand scheme of things, for all that it hurt all out of proportion to its size. Fai released again, lips parting for a breath. "Kuro-sama is always strong."

Chapter Text

"Come, my lady," Xing Hua said persuasively. "You must return to your duties. The great throne stands empty, awaiting your return."

Sakura shuddered, drawing her blankets tighter about herself and turning her face into the pillow. After the terrible fight with Fei Wong Reed yesterday, Sakura had retired - fled - into her chamber. When she had refused to leave the bed in the morning, Xing Hua had been sent to try to coax her out. There was no sign of the other maid - the one she'd tricked into leaving her unguarded - and Sakura wondered if she was in trouble because of that. Somehow she couldn't muster the energy to feel bad about it.

The images of yesterday kept playing themselves over and over in her mind - the scenes of catastrophe from her homeland, the terrible light of the crucible, the blurred outlines of the dead souls. Her stomach heaved just at the thought of going back there, of drawing on that power again now that she knew where it came from. It was even more awful because it was so tempting, that wonderful feeling of flying between the worlds.

Above all the images hovered the face of Fei Wong Reed, stern and forbidding and utterly without remorse. How could anyone look at those awful things and not even react at all, not even care? Sakura didn't understand it, she wasn't sure she wanted to understand it.

"Xing Hua," she whispered. "Why didn't you ever warn me that Mister Reed was evil?"

She heard Xing Hua sigh. "Don't talk like that, Sakura. Master Reed is not evil."

"But he's hurting all those people," Sakura said. She couldn't get the image of the crucible out of her mind, all those trapped souls screaming… "He's using them."

"Do you think he enjoys it?" Xing Hua challenged her. "I can promise you, he does not. He does what he does because it's necessary. Not many men would have the stomach to do it."

"I don't understand why it's necessary!" Sakura burst out. "Nobody needs that much magic, not for anything! Couldn't he have gotten magic from the earth? From the sky? You said he could do that!"

Xing Hua simply shook her head. "What seems simple, only does so due to our own ignorance," she said. "Master Reed has lived for centuries upon centuries. He is the most learned and most powerful magician in this world. If he needs that much power to bring about the salvation of the world, then that is what is necessary. It is only our job to make sure that he has what he needs to see it through."

"But he doesn't care," Sakura whimpered. "He's hurting people and he doesn't even care. Isn't that evil?"

Xing Hua paused for a moment, marshalling her words. When she replied, her words were low and measured.

"Good and evil are simple concepts," Xing Hua said, "for simple minds - fairy tales for children. The truth of the world is that great deeds are rarely accomplished by nice men. Only with ambition, ruthlessness and determinations can they harness the power necessary to shape the world. Great deeds require great men - even if they are not always nice. You know this truth from your own experience, Sakura. Your own father - King Ashura of Ceres - has done many things to make Ceres great, but were all of them nice things to do?"

Sakura twisted uncomfortably in the sheets. She didn't like to think about this, didn't like to face up to the truth of the things she'd seen her father say and do - even to his own beloved family. "No," she whispered.

"In order to rule a stable and successful land, a king must make many harsh decisions," Xing Hua went on. "And yet even your father only has to think about the good of his own people - one tiny kingdom. Master Reed, in contrast, must think of the good of the whole world. And for the greater good - the good of the entire world - Master Reed must put aside the good of a few unimportant souls.

"To call a God into this world - to commit such an audacious deed - requires the wisdom of a thousand libraries, the foresight of a hundred lifetimes, and the power of a thousand souls. Master Reed alone has all of the qualities necessary to bring this future about. And so, while I may pity those poor souls in the caverns below, Sakura, I know that Master Reed can't be wrong. He is the prophet, the herald of the White God. I serve him without reservation, and so should you. Our own lives, or our concerns matter little when compared to his."

Sakura pushed her head further into the bedding, staring at nothing. Although Xing Hua had not raised her voice in scolding, nevertheless the stern admonition filled her with a sense of guilt. And yet - the guilt of using those people trapped below was equally strong. The two forces battled within her, filling her with misery.

"What he said to me," Sakura whispered. "He was so angry."

"He had a right to be angry," Xing Hua told her, gently chiding. "You disobeyed him. You went where you were forbidden to go. And on top of that, you went into hysterics over it. You are only fortunate he did not punish you for that."

"I've been so much trouble to him, all this time," Sakura said, her voice cracking.

Xing Hua said nothing, only moved her hand to gently stroke over Sakura's back.

"He doesn't like me anymore, does he?" Sakura said, and her eyes filled with tears despite herself. Even though just minutes ago she had been calling Fei Wong Reed evil, it was still hard to let go - hard to shake the anxious desire to be liked, to be wanted. She had thought she had succeeded. She had thought that Fei Wong Reed had been proud of her, pleased with her, loved her. Now she wondered if he ever had.

"My lady, he - Master Reed -" Xing Hua hesitated, then sighed. "Truly, you are upsetting yourself over nothing," she said. "Master Reed still values you as much as he did before. He still needs you."

"Valuing someone isn't the same as loving them," Sakura objected. Her father's words echoed in her ears, tormented her; when he'd bartered her away to Nihon, talking so easily about getting enough value for his daughter's body.

"Perhaps not," Xing Hua replied, "but for Master Reed, it is the highest form of his regard. You remember what he told you once, don't you, that morning when you were having breakfast together? He set all such feelings aside, in pursuit of his goal. He doesn't like you, Sakura, because he does not like anyone. He is beyond things such as liking or love. He measures people by a higher standard.

"To be valued by Master Reed is to have worth far beyond that of meager coins or fleeting affections. If you are important to Master Reed, it means you are important to the world. To be needed by him is to have purpose in life, purpose that most people could only ever dream of. And of all the people in this world, Sakura, you are the one that Master Reed needs the most. Any of us - any of his servants - would gladly die, to be valued as much as you are."

At the bitterness in Xing Hua's voice, Sakura sat bolt upright, eyes widening as she met Xing Hua's gaze. "Xing Hua, I'm sorry - I didn't mean -"

"It's all right," the woman cut her off. Her voice was rough, but she managed a small - but genuine - smile. "I envy you, Sakura, but I do not resent you. There was a time when I dreamed of being worth something to Fei Wong Reed, but I lost my chance."

"What do you mean?" Sakura asked, as curiosity overcame her.

Xing Hua sighed, melancholy creeping into her voice and expression. "Fei Wong Reed brought me here many years ago," she said. "He sought me out because he determined that I had talent - that I had potential. He sometimes would choose consorts from those with strong talents, in hopes of creating children even more talented than ourselves. I could not believe that such an honor had fallen to me."

"You were Mister Reed's wife?" Sakura said, her eyes widening even more.

Xing Hua shook her head, her curly hair drifting about her face. "That would have been far among my station," she said. "At around the time I was pregnant, though, our seers and diviners began to predict that the holy child - the God-Talker - would soon be born. I was… vain. And foolish. I began to hope, to dream, to pray that my child would be the one that Fei Wong Reed sought. If so, I would have been honored above all other women."

She fell silent.

"But… that didn't happen, did it?" Sakura said tentatively. "I mean - I was born in Ceres…"

"Yes," Xing Hua said, and her voice was wretched. "When the time came I bore a son - a completely normal, mundane, powerlessinfant." Her voice was heavy with bitterness. "My one great chance to serve my lord, and I lost it - failed it. Master Reed's interest in me faded after that… and I had nothing more to offer him."

"But - you talked about your son sometimes, right?" Sakura said. "You said he's one of the other Heralds."

"Yes," Xing Hua said, very softly. "It was the only chance I had of salvaging my failure. I offered my son up to have the Seeing Eyes placed upon him, and sent him out into the world to serve my Master from afar. By serving the Master, he gives himself worth and thus brings some worth to me. But the cost is that I lost my own child. In ten years I have never seen him, touched him, or spoken with him - and I may never have a chance do so again."

"I'm sorry," Sakura said. The words felt awkward, flat, insufficient - but what else could she say? "I'm so sorry."

Xing Hua looked up, and some of the cloudy grief lifted from her eyes. "There's no need to be sorry," she said, and her voice was a little stronger. She straightened her shoulders, tossed her hair back from her eyes. "There's no need to grieve, or regret. In a very short time the White God will arrive, and we can forget all pain and fear. In the meantime, Sakura, I still have you. I have come to care for you as my own child, and I know I am not alone in this.

"Master Reed may not have the time for such things as love, but we still do. All of the Heralds worship you, my lady, for you carry the hope of the world's salvation on your shoulders. All of us waited for you for so many years, and now you are here. Please, Princess Sakura, do not abandon us now."

Sakura looked down, her shoulders automatically hunching as though under the weight of those words.

"I won't," she said. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it fell into the silent chamber like a shout.

"Come, my lady," Xing Hua said, drawing Sakura to her feet and guiding her towards the door. "All our diviners are confident that today is the day that you will finally make contact with the White God. The appointed hour draws near. It is time for you to go to meet your destiny, and I to mine."

The last half mile or so was the worst. Even with his eyes closed, the dizzying sensation as the world canted and spun around him was enough to turn Syaoran's stomach. He found himself staggering forward in a blind haze, stumbling from one side to the other as gravity itself seemed to twist and upend around him. Howling blasts of wind flung handfuls of sand at him from all directions, until he was no longer sure whether he was on land or underwater in a turbulent current, let alone which way was up or down. Only the red thread, the lifeline that whipped frenziedly about from one direction to the next, guided him in setting one foot in front of another.

Then they stepped across an invisible line, and it … stopped. The wind, the sand, the twisting of the horizon - it all just stopped. Upreturned to its proper direction, as did down, and the sun sprang back into its proper place in the sky and shone down on a landscape suddenly serene. Syaoran opened his eyes and regarded the world around him uneasily.

Kurogane stood next to him, hunched over catching his breath after the last torturous grind. They stood upon a bare plain of rock, flat as a pancake stretching out in every direction. When he looked behind him he could see the churning horizon of sand, but it seemed far off - or perhaps not far at all, since it seemed to grow and shrink in his eyes as he watched it.

"What's next?" Kurogane said in a rusty voice, inhaling sharply as he straightened. "More of the same?"

"No, it's straight from here on out…" Syaoran suddenly realized what he didn't see, and his heart thumped painfully as he spun about. No dark brown figures, no buff tan coat - "What happened to Soel and Larg?" Syaoran exclaimed.

His stomach sank when Kurogane shook his head. "Lost them," the bigger man said, still short of breath. "That was bad, that last bit. All I could do to keep hold of you."

"We lost them?" Syaoran said, horrified by the idea. "Out in that desert out there? The Dragons trusted us with them!"

"We can't go back for them now," Kurogane reminded him. "They're bred for the desert. They'll be all right."

"Not if they can never find their way out!" Syaoran said. He took a half-step towards the churning dust cloud, reaching out towards it as though he could pull their animal companions to safety with his hands.

A hand fell on his shoulder, pulling him back, and he looked up to see his teacher's sorrowful, resolute expression. "Kid, if we get through this and all we've lost is a pair of camels, we'll be lucky," he said. "Now. Which way's the princess?"

Reminded of their goal, Syaoran reluctantly abandoned his search for the missing animals and swung back in the direction of the guiding red ribbon. It was stronger than ever now; he could see it even without closing his eyes, a faint trace of color hovering just out of the corner of his normal vision. "I think we're close," he said, and pointed off along the red line. "This way."

In the distance stood a monolith, looming sharp and distinct against the surrounding landscape. It was hard to make out the details from this remove, but the sharply cut lines and perfectly smooth top made it obvious that it was no natural feature. The red line led unwaveringly towards the structure, upwards and onwards.

After the nightmare of the past few days, the next leg of the distance was almost ridiculously easy. The ground under their feet, although barren and hard, was flat and free of obstacles. The sun stayed a reassuringly constant presence in the sky, creeping up slowly before them as the hours passed.

The barren desert began to give way to plants; first to low, dry grass and scrubby brush, then to weeds and wildflowers and woody bushes. It was like a fast-forward view of their journey down the mountain into the desert, only in reverse; when the ground dipped away below them to reveal orchards of fruit-bearing trees, Syaoran was hardly even surprised. There were still no enemies in sight; as they passed through the rows of trees Syaoran dared to reach out and pluck a low-hanging pear from a branch and bite into it. It was a perfectly normal fruit, sweet and juicy, with a pit on one side where a bug had chewed out a meal.

At first Syaoran kept his hand near his sword, tensely on the lookout for trouble, but as they ventured further into the heart of the enemy's domain without challenge, he gradually began to relax. "There's no guards," he remarked.

"They have to be somewhere," his teacher said tersely.

"Maybe he was relying on the desert to keep everyone away?" Syaoran suggested.

"That's a hell of a thing to bet your life on," Kurogane replied. He kept his head up, eyes scanning the horizon, his body tense.

As they approached the monolith, it grew larger and closer, but the details were no clearer. From a distance Syaoran had assumed it to be a huge stone castle, but there were no windows or battlements to overlook the approaches. It was just a sheer stone wall, the scale of which only became apparent the closer they came.

The land continued to slope downwards as they approached, the forbidding stone edifice looming higher and higher above them, but the red ribbon that was Syaoran's guiding light continued float upwards out of sight. At last it began to dawn on Syaoran what they were looking at: the stone wall was not a wall at all but a cliffside, a natural fortress of stone on a scale that mankind could never hope to imitate.

"Up there." Syaoran motioned towards the top of the mesa, almost out of sight between the leaves and branches crowding the cliff base. "She's up there."

Kurogane nodded, but a frown stayed on his face. "Getting up there's going to be the challenge," he growled.

"There has to be a way up," Syaoran said, trying to make his voice confident. "If all this down here is producing food for them, then that means there has to be some way to get up and down, right? We just have to find it."

"Don't count on that," Kurogane warned him. "Remember that the enemy we're fighting can reach through space with those damn portals of his. We can't assume that he'll do anything like a normal - haha -"

Syaoran looked over at his teacher, confused. That last outburst hadn't fit in with the rest of what Kurogane was saying, and for a moment Syaoran wasn't even sure what he'd heard.

Although he'd lived and trained with Kurogane for going on six years, their relationship had always been a formal, structured one of teacher and student. More than that, Kurogane had spent most of his time away from home hunting demons, and hadn't been the most relaxed and easygoing of people even when he'd been around. Off the top of his head, Syaoran couldn't remember ever hearing his teacher laugh.

And there was certainly no reason for him to do so now.

"Sensei?" Syaoran asked uncertainly.

Kurogane whipped around, drawing his sword from his sheath in a rattling hiss. "Hahaha - something's wrong," he warned Syaoran, falling into a stance as he turned to put his back to his student. "Draw your sword - hee hee - and be on the lookout for whatever, ha ha ha…"

For a moment more Syaoran stared at Kurogane in shock, shaken by the spectacle of his serious, collected teacher giggling like an intoxicated schoolgirl. Then Kurogane's warning sank in, snapping him out of it, and he drew his own sword as he peered uncertainly around for a target.

"What is it?" he said nervously. What could it possibly be?

A moment later, Syaoran was overwhelmed by a blinding rush of confused sensation. For a moment it washed over him, pinwheeling fuzzy sparks of white colors, leaving him feeling hot and cold and nauseated all at the same time - and then suddenly, it snapped into place as an intense hunger, a craving in his stomach to eat something. Anything. Anything that came to hand…

"Sensei?" Syaoran yelped again, panicked. "What's happening?"

"I don't know. Try to fight it -" another wheeling cackle ripped its way free from Kurogane; he struggled for control of his breath and voice. "Just keep control of yourself, hahaha, and try to pinpoint where it's coming from!"

Syaoran tried to follow Kurogane's advice, but he was completely overwhelmed by the baseless sensations that careened through his body. He knew he wasn't starving - he knew it, he had last eaten less than twelve hours ago! - but rationality was meaningless in the face of this craving. He had to eat something - anything. The trees, the bark, the grass, anything would do -

A sharp pain broke Syaoran out of his daze, and he jerked his head back and stared down at his own wrist, which now bore a thin line of white toothmarks beading blood. He'd bitten his own hand in the hunger-fueled haze. The sight threw him into a full-blown panic. "Sensei!" he cried out, but received nothing except uncontrolled laughter in response.

Voracious hunger raced through him again, and in desperation Syaoran tore off one of his heavy leather gloves and stuffed it into his mouth. He bit down hard, and the taste of the leather filled his mouth. For a moment his mind cleared, and he brought his sword up and raised his head, searching the space around them for any sign of their enemy.

Movement fluttered in the corner of his eye, and Syaoran cried out - muffled through the leather - as he turned towards it. A patch of blue light, glittering like the sparkle of sunlight on water in the air among the trees. The glints of light seemed to form a face in the air - two darker spots forming eyes, bumps suggesting a nose and a mouth - it flashed and flowed as the insubstantial figure swooped towards him. He raised his sword and slashed out in the direction of the ethereal thing, but the steel passed through it as though it were air.

The trailing edge of light brushed against Syaoran again, and the sensation of hunger flooded his mind so thoroughly that he could think of nothing else. He dropped to his knees, choking and sputtering as he tried ravenously to devour the tough chunk of leather in his mouth. He reached up and pulled it loose, and then a moment later pain flooded up his arm as he bit down on his own fingers. Syaoran jerked his hand free, spat blood, and then the hunger flooded on him again; he found himself reaching out for the dirt in front of him, grass, anything at all…

Behind and above him, the peals of uncontrollable laughter were interrupted by a roar of fury. "Hama ryuu-oh jin!" Kurogane's voice bellowed, and a bloom of light was followed by a wave of searing heat.

A screech like a file being drawn across metal pierced Syaoran's brain, and then the confounding fog receded like an outgoing tide. He gasped for breath, blinking as he pushed himself up from the ground. His jaw ached, as did his arm and hand, and he blinked dazedly as he spat dirt and blood and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

His teacher was just lowering his sword, chest heaving and expression grim. He'd evidently had the same trouble as Syaoran piercing their insubstantial foes with steel, but the spectral fire of his attacks had been enough to do the job. "What were those things?" Syaoran gasped.

"They don't really have a name in your language," came a new voice, dropping in from nowhere. It was cultured, deep and measured, and it sent a double frission of awe and loathing down Syaoran's spine. He spun around, trying to locate the voice as it continued, "But I suppose you could call them, demons."

Kurogane let out a low snarl of hatred, and he fell into his attack posture once more. The red line that had guided them here seemed to quiver, and Syaoran automatically lifted his head to follow it. The ribbon stretched upwards for over fifty feet, before grounding itself and disappearing in a dark opening in the stone.

The opening hadn't been there before, Syaoran was sure of that. They'd both been looking for a possible entrance to the citadel, and they wouldn't have overlooked one so obvious. The man hadn't been there, either. He was tall and imposing, as dark as the tunnel he now filled, and he leaned casually on a stone balustrade as he stared down at the two of them with an attitude of utter unconcern. "I set them here mostly as sentries, because quite frankly they're not good for much else," he continued, "The effects they have on human consciousness are… erratic, to say the least. As you just experienced for yourselves."

The man was old but not aging, dark hair tipped with grey around the edges and a craggy face deeply ingrained with lines. A monocle glinted in one eye, pale and cold as he stared down at them with cool dispassion. He wore a rich, sweeping robe of black fabric, with the cuffs embroidered in white thread in the design of a pair of sweeping bat wings against a white halo.

It was the sight of that crest that made the connection in Syaoran's memory, a memory of a stone chamber hundreds of miles away and a misty portal, Princess Sakura's confused and terrorized face as those hands had snatched her away - those hands! Syaoran's eyes snapped back to the man's face, recognition and fury flaring up within him. "You!" he gasped. "Monster, you won't get away with this!"

Beside him, Kurogane didn't even bother with words; the air crackled and roared as his sword swept around, and a wave of fire leapt through the air and strained upwards to strike their enemy. The man in black did not move, did not even gesture; but a shell of scintillating darkness sprang momentarily into existence in the air around him, and the fire sputtered and died against it.

"I must admit, I never expected these particular sentries to actually be needed," Reed said conversationally. "I thought it was a long shot that anyone would ever actually make it this far. I was curious enough, when the sentries brought me the alarm, that I thought it worth coming out to see who exactly had invaded my domain. Now, though, I see how you could have navigated the defenses successfully."

"I've come for Princess Sakura, villain!" Syaoran yelled, frustration welling up in him at the man's persistent refusal to acknowledge him. "What have you done with her? Who are you?"

The man gave an irritated grunt. "You trespass onto my lands, slay my servants and you don't even know who I am?" he said, tone offended. "I am Fei Wong Reed, Master of Time and Space, chancellor of Paradise… and the Herald of the White God, whose light will shortly fall upon this land."

Kurogane growled in fury, and threw himself at the wall. The stone face was mostly smooth, but not completely, and he jammed his fingers and toes into the smallest and least likely of toeholds and began hauling himself upwards.

"I know you have Princess Sakura in there somewhere!" Syaoran yelled, brandishing his sword in a gesture he knew to be largely futile. If his teacher's attacks hadn't been able to connect from this distance, his certainly wouldn't. But perhaps if he could keep the man distracted, his focus off Kurogane… "I can see her! I can sense her. We're tied together by destiny. You can't keep us apart!"

Reed's eyebrows lifted, his expression of amused contempt radiating clearly even across this distance. "Tied together… what, do you mean this?" he said, and raised one hand to tap negligently against the red ribbon passing over his shoulder. He chuckled, a deep rumble with a nasty sharp edge to it. "You see this and you imagine it to be… what? Some expression of attachment, of love? You imagine that your puerile adolescent infatuation has the power to bridge time and space?"

Syaoran froze. He shouldn't even be able to see the ribbon, should he? The connection between himself and Princess Sakura…

"I suppose you no longer need this," the man said casually, and raised his hand back to the ribbon. Two fingers closed on the shimmering scarlet thread, and the fragile ribbon snapped. The edges whipped briefly in the air before dissolving into nothingness, and Syaoran jerked in shock as a sensation like the cracking of a whip traveled across the intervening space and struck him in his eye. He cried out, falling to his knees.

"At any rate it lead nowhere else than to my own viewing room," the man said. "It was merely the magical conduit by which your vision was channeled to mine, one of my own Seeing Eyes that walked the world and provided me with information. You were… the child who was placed with that archaeologist, weren't you? Yes, I remember. Fujitaka, that was his name."

"My father?" Syaoran whispered, his head throbbing with pain. "You knew my father?"

"Oh, yes. I must thank you, boy, for your years of service," the man continued. "In the course of his research Fujitaka - and thus you - came upon many items of great magical value. Once you had laid eyes upon them, it was simple enough for me to reach across space and claim them, where they could be disassembled to add to my stores of magical power."

"No, that can't be," Syaoran said, instinctive denial rising to his lips. He was appalled at what the man was suggesting: all of Fujitaka's careful research, perverted into mere careless looting for power? It was a corruption of everything that Fujitaka had done - everything that he had believed -

"But even I never believed that you would finally be the Eye that found what I sought," the man said, shaking his head slowly. "After my first attempt to insert you into the court at Ceres failed, I had little interest in you. I never imagined that you would try again, years later - or that you would succeed, and guide me at last to the hiding place of the Princess of Ceres. For years I had sought her - for years they had hidden her from me. You, boy, you made it possible at last for me to find her, to see her, and to reach out and grasp her. So I thank you, boy, for your service to me; without your window into Ruval Palace, this day could never have come."

"No," Syaoran said numbly. "No, no! It's not true! You're lying. You're trying to break me, break my spirit! Well, it's not going to work! I won't believe your lies, bastard!"

Reed looked surprised by his reaction. "Why do young people always assume that the world revolves around them?" he said irritably. "I have no reason to lie to you, dear boy, and I have no interest in your spirit whatsoever, broken or not. You have performed a great service for me, and to the world; I was merely granting accolades where they are due. There is little enough time left for celebration or censure."

The man paused in his soliloquy, and even through his shock and disbelief Syaoran could not help but register just how old he looked, how tired and worn. It was the face of a man who had grown so weary of the world that he no longer cared for its fate, and while Death in his kindness had swept away other men long before they reached this point, this face had stared down through hollow centuries alone.

"Very soon, now, the preparations will all be in place," Reed said; he sounded more like he was talking to himself than either of them. "When all is ready, I will open the great gateway between worlds. Princess Sakura will perform the duty she was born for, and call the White God into this world. And my great task of centuries will finally be accomplished."

"You can't!" Syaoran cried out. "Princess Sakura will never help you do such a thing. You can't force her into your dirty schemes! We'll stop you!"

Kurogane had not ceased climbing the crumbling rock face, sometimes jamming his sword's sheath into narrow cracks to haul himself up further. He was less than ten feet away when Reed finally seemed to notice his progress, and a small frown crossed his face as his fingers flickered outwards.

A wave of force swept downwards from his hand, blowing a shell of dust before it and brushing Kurogane off his tenuous perch as easily as a man brushing a fly from his shoulder. Syaoran yelled and lunged forward as Kurogane landed with an impact that shook the ground, even though he wasn't sure what he planned to do - catch him?

"I really do not know why you insisted on bringing this thug along," Reed said disdainfully. "Although I suppose that if crude muscle is what is wanted, he has plenty of that."

Syaoran ran over and fell on one knee next to Kurogane, reaching out to check his pulse; thank God, the big man was already beginning to stir and struggle to get to his feet, though he pressed one hand over his side in a way that spoke of cracked and broken ribs.

"Just… got the wind knocked out of me…" he wheezed. "For fuck's sake, don't waste it… talking with him…"

Reed let out a long, put-upon sigh. "Do as you please," he said. "I've dawdled away enough time out here; I should return now to oversee the last of the preparations. You may stay here in the garden to witness the dawning of a new age, if you wish."

He turned to go, the long trailing hem and cuffs sweeping dust from the stone as he moved. With a snarl of pure fury Kurogane lunged to his feet, brought his arm back over his head and flung his sword end-over-end through the air.

It was a good throw; an incredible one, actually, Syaoran thought as he watched the missile flip through the air. For a moment it looked like it just might hit - but without even turning around a bubble of blurred air sprang into being around the magician. There was a flash of light, a sharp smell of burning metal - and then nothing. Barely a trace of black powder trickled down through the air.

Reed turned around, and his eyes were narrow and his lips thin with displeasure. "Or, if you insist on being crude and difficulty," he said, "you can die here. It matters not to me."

He made another small, weary gesture, and Syaoran lurched as the ground below his feet gave way.

What had moments ago been solid rock suddenly slid under their feet like mud; Syaoran staggered for balance, then lost it as he fell to his hands and knees. To his horror, his outstretched hands sank to the wrists in the ground. Cold grains of rock trickled around the fingers of his gloveless hand, but when he pulled his hand out of the sucking morass it was dry and clean.

With effort he wrenched himself backwards, but his feet sank under him even as he fought for purchase. The treacherous ground sucked at his feet as he tried to strike out for solid footing, sinking faster than his boots had sunk in the shifting sand dunes. Already it was up over his calves, creeping towards his knees, and every inch made taking a step that much more of a struggle.

If the ground had merely become soft and mushy, that would have been bad enough. But Syaoran quickly found that the rock was only watery and treacherous where they were touching it; anywhere they were not in contact with the ground, it reverted to being solid rock. He learned this when he tried to lift his foot out of the ground and came up against unyielding resistance; he could only free it by twisting his ankle painfully until he was able to wriggle out of the soft sinking hole left by his leg. The leather glove he'd dropped earlier already sank below of the surface of the ground, which sealed over it leaving no trace it had ever existed.

"It's no good!" Syaoran shouted with frustration. "It's solid rock when we're not touching it, but when we do, it's like water!"

Beside him Kurogane was cursing, the older man also fighting against the sucking pull of the hungry earth. "That bastard knew a way," he was saying, a monotonous rant as he struggled to stay on level ground. "He could stop it. With a word. Damn it, what were the words? I wasn't listening. Damn it all to hell! What were the words?"

Despair overwhelmed Syaoran, sucking him under as thoroughly as the bewitched stone. What was the point of fighting? What good would they do, even if they got free? They'd already proven themselves to be completely incapable of doing any good against Reed, even when standing practically face to face with the man. What could they do against him? And if what he said was true, then in a few hours the whole world would end, and what could they do to stop it now…?

The thought that terrified him the most was that Reed hadn't been lying about anything. His whole manner, his attitude - the careless, weary indifference he'd displayed from start to finished - said that he didn't need to lie, he couldn't even be bothered to lie. That cold indifference had been the most frightening thing about him, because how could anyone contemplate bringing about the end of the world with no more excitement or passion than deciding what to have for dinner?

And if he hadn't been lying… then that meant Syaoran's life had been a farce. He'd imagined himself as a knight, riding boldly to Princess Sakura's rescue - and instead he'd been a pawn, a dancing puppet for Reed's machinations. Doing someone else's dirty work without even knowing it, for as far back as he could even remember!

Reed had thanked him, thanked him personally for delivering Princess Sakura into his hands! Her kidnapping, the attack on Ceres, everything - even the end of the world - had all happened directly as a result of him.

In the face of that, did he even deserve to get out of this swamp of stone? Or did he just deserve to die right here?

A new sound intruded on Syaoran's despair, a high-pitched whistling that grew rapidly in intensity. Movement out of the corner of his eye caused Syaoran to look up (and there was no more guiding red ribbon there tying him to Sakura, never would be, never again)and saw something white in the sky. Dropping rapidly towards them.

The white shape fell like a meteor to the earth beside them, landing with an impact that shook the stone. Syaoran just had time to glimpse the shape of a huge bird swathed by a bright white glow before the shape pulsed and changed. In its place stood a man, tall and thin and fair-skinned, with hair that glowed platinum under the desert sun.

"Melar az me zekul!" the man shouted, and brought his hands sharply downwards. In one hand, Syaoran realized with a blurred blink, he carried an elaborate wood and metal staff.

The ground beneath them quivered, then suddenly firmed again - except that they were still sunk thigh-deep in the solid stone.

"Nice going, wizard," Kurogane said, his voice dry. "Got anything else up your sleeve, or were you just going to leave us stuck in the mud?"

"I just got here, Kuro-tan," the man protested; Syaoran recognized him, after a moment of shock, as the wizard Fai Flowright. He'd said he was staying back in Ceres - what was he doing all the way out here?

"And what exactly took you so long?" Kurogane snapped, even as Fai quickly stooped and laid his hands on the stone trapping his feet. The stone shivered and melted aside, and Kurogane heaved himself up onto solid ground. "Even apart from us being killed, we had Reed right here in our sights! If you'd been here then, we could have settled this once and for all!"

"I came as quickly as I could," Fai defended himself. "It was tough work to get through Reed's localized multidirectional gravitic distortion field, even using your life-sign as a beacon. I had to take apart some of the static arrays even to get past -"

Kurogane rolled his eyes. He stepped forward, grabbed the wizard by his shoulders, and cut him off mid-babble with a passionate kiss.

It was a long moment before the two men broke apart. "Forget the excuses," Kurogane said softly. "Let's get up there and do what we came to do."

"That's what I'm here for," Fai replied. He turned towards the barren cliffside and made a broad gesture with his staff, speaking rapidly under his breath. Flickers of blue light formed and coalesced around his hands, then shot out in a rapid sequence of blazing blue orbs to impact against the rock face. The deafening crack and clatter of breaking stone filled the air, and dust and gravel exploded outwards from each point of impact.

When the dust cleared, a rough stone staircase had been cut into the blank cliff face, switchbacking steeply up to the lip of the mesa high above. Fai turned to Kurogane, cocking his head to the side with a coy smile. "Well?" he said.

"Not bad," Kurogane allowed. "But when it comes to dispatching enemies, magic's still no substitute for good solid steel."

"It had better be, Kuro-discus, because despite what a certain grumpy demon-hunter once told me in training, you just threw your only weapon away." Fai looked insufferably smug.

"It's not my only weapon, damn it!" Kurogane began to argue.

"It's true, it was quite an impressive throw, but still -"

"It's my fault," Syaoran whispered, unheeding of their banter. The two men stopped and turned towards him.

Quickly and without fanfare, Fai stooped down to soften the stone around Syaoran's boots so that the boy could pull free. Syaoran sat unmoving, staring ahead into nothingness. "It's all my fault," he said quietly, grief and guilt past expression in his empty gaze. "It happened because of me. All of this."

Kurogane's hand fell on Syaoran's shoulder, and the boy looked up into his teacher's face. He looked grave, but not surprised, and Syaoran realized dully that Kurogane had already known.

"Yeah," Kurogane agreed matter-of-factly. "It is. And now you've got one chance to make it right."

Slowly Syaoran raised his head, blinking back into focus. He saw his mentor's steady gaze on him, and behind him, the wizard he had met on that terrible day in Ceres. The man that Princess Sakura had been engaged to marry, before King Ashura disowned him. The man that his teacher loved.

The wizard who had seen him for what he truly was, back on that stairway in Ruval. The man who had sent him to rescue Sakura, even though it was his fault she was in danger at all.

They knew what he was, both of them. And they were still willing to give him another chance.

Syaoran's chin lifted, and he threw his shoulders back. "I'll do it," he said. "Sakura's in there somewhere, and we have to save her."

"Finding Sakura is our first priority," Fai agreed. "But we'll have to get past Reed first."

Kurogane smiled, the razor-sharp smile he usually employed while in combat. "I don't see a problem with that," he said.

"Neither do I," Fai said, and all traces of humor fled from his face; "but we'll have to hurry. I received a message from Yukito while I was still fighting my way in - he wasn't very coherent, but I got the sense of it. We've got less than an hour left before the end of the world."

Seated on her throne, worlds spun out below her feet.

The obsidian stone glowed with a dull heat, mirroring the coruscating flicker of the portal. The heat of it hovered just on the edge of unbearable, sending wisps of steam into the air as where it touched her skin. She ignored it. The by-now constant headache pounded in her head, pain drumming in her veins, roaring in her ears and flashing in her eyes. She ignored that, too.

Around her a multitude of universes waltzed and gavotte, a thousand planets, wondrous and strange. A hundred hundred vistas where men had never walked, never set eyes, monsters and creatures and plants too bizarre and marvelous to be imagined -

She ignored them too.

She had to find the White God.

When Fei Wong Reed had first approached her with his offer - to join his cause, to save the world, to be a hero - she had jumped at it. So naïve! So eager to embrace the chance to prove herself, to impress everyone and make them praise her, to be able to really make a difference in the world at last. She'd been treating it like a game, and it wasn't fun any more.

Now there were thousands of people out there who were suffering and dying, and they would continue to suffer until she succeeded. Now there was a very legion of bereaved souls beneath her feet, upon whose very substance she drew for power. Shame burned her more than the pain of the smoldering stone beneath her, more than the headache that raged like wildfire down her spine, but she could not relent, she could not draw back. Every moment she wasted was more of their sacrifice squandered, one more moment their torment was prolonged.

She had to find the White God. That would fix… everything. All the fighting would stop, and everybody would get magic of their own. Then they could work together to fix the world, to stop the horrible disasters and make everything okay again. And the souls trapped in the crucible would be released…

Somewhere inside, Sakura felt a queasy doubt when she thought about that last point. Fei Wong Reed had to release them. He'dpromised he would, and Sakura knew he hadn't been lying. And yet… maybe he hadn't lied directly, but he'd lied through omission. He never told her about the crucible, he never told her about what was happening to Ceres. It was cruel of him, and unfair, and she just couldn't trust blindly in him like she had before.

But he hadn't been lying when he'd shown her the horrific catastrophes ravaging the world. He'd not lied when he told her that the White God had the power to heal the world, nor when he'd told her that only she could call the God. She believed that last without hesitation. It was clear to her now that for all Fei Wong Reed had favored and cossetted her, he'd never loved her. He'd never even liked her. Xing Hua had been right; Fei Wong Reed was far too ancient and cold-blooded to feel such a fanciful emotion. He would never have put up with her childish immaturity if there had been any way at all for him to do without her.

No, he'd never liked her - but he needed her, and so did the rest of the world. It hurt, but her pain wasn't important now. It wasn't about being petted and praised and rewarded any more; it was about doing what had to be done, no matter what the cost. And this was a task that only she could do.

Worlds kaleidoscoped through her mind; she sorted them with a speed and efficiency that would have awed her former self. She pushed impatiently past vistas of marvelous crystalline beauty, past landscapes unravaged by human hand populated by stampedes of strange snorting herbivores. Past colors and forms and cacophonic symphonies too strange for her human eyes to decipher, searching, searching -

And there: in the darkness, a dark chaotic cluster of worlds that were almost too hard for her to look into, so alien were they to her comprehension. There, a spark of light.

She grabbed for it, missed; it vanished among the others. With great effort Sakura reined in her impatience; she reached for the place she had last seen it and gathered the worlds in her spiritual hands, reeling them through her fingers like wool. She had seen it, if only for an instant - something different from the others. Something brighter, a pure bright white like a true star.

Light glimmered again in the deeps, and Sakura drew closer to it, impatient excitement giving way to awe. Here, a tiny crystal globe that contained no worlds, no planets, no suns, nor rocks nor base matter at all. Inside this world, in a fathomless space stretching without walls from infinity to infinity, there glowed one single light. One single Presence that spanned all that space and filled it corner to corner with unwavering light.

Sakura reached, touched -

And she knew.

When you find the God, you will know. She'd always doubted - not Fei Wong Reed's words, not back then, but her own wisdom. Now she realized he'd been right; having once touched her, there was no room for the slightest shadow of doubt in Sakura's mind.

She had found what she sought. And she reached across the fathomless gulf to bridge the gap between their worlds, to touch the mind of this great Being with her own, and saw for the first time just what She was.

Warmth. Joy, unbounded generosity, happiness. Love. None of the words Sakura knew were enough to describe Her. Perhaps no words could ever be - for words were used to define things, and to define something was to set it apart. Where this Being lived, She was never apart from anything. She was all, and only in Her own world, a pure and fathomless well of untainted good. Conflict - dissent - hatred - these things were completely alien to this Being, because each of them required an outsider, an enemy. She did not know what it meant for there to be Other, and so She could not understand what it meant to be alone.

How could she speak with such a Being? How could she communicate their need, their desperation, their suffering to a God who had no concept of such things?

But she had to try. It was not in the words of her native Ceresian that she spoke, nor her practiced Nihongo, nor any other human tongue. It was the language of the spirit, words spoken from the heart directly to the soul of another, and it was the reason for which she'd been born.

Help us! Oh, please, help! She cried out, soundlessly, wordlessly.

The Being responded. Surprise first, at hearing such an unexpected voice out of the void. Then interest, curiosity, as She reached for Sakura's mind in turn. Then worry, concern. She never spoke in words, as such, perhaps She could not, but Her intentions came through to Sakura's understanding with the clarity of a legion of trumpets.

What is the matter, child?

She tried to explain. It was hard to do without words - a confused jumble of feelings and images poured out of her mind and into the God's. Fear, loneliness, hurt. A deep unhappiness, stretching back years, wishing for love and approval from a father whom she could never please. Armies, marching up the valley of Ceres - huddling behind the stone battlements with the wholeheart wish that this would all just stop, without having to kill anyone else, that they would just lay down their weapons and go in peace. Fire, fear of fire. Flood, crushing rock, the anguish of seeing a body ripped away by the current and being unable to grab their hand to pull them to safety.

Please, help us, she cried out, when the message was given. We need you. Only you can save us.

The message was received, at first with puzzlement as the alien images came crowded in, then with horrified comprehension as their meanings became clear. She abhorred these images of death and suffering, hatred and fear. They were anathema to everything that made up Her nature. She would ease them, She would give solace and relief and aid, if only She knew how. What must I do?

Come to us - Sakura scrambled for the dim memory of what Fei Wong Reed had told her to do, on the day she made contact with the White God. I have to tell Mister Reed, he'll know what to do. He'll open the door for you.

Acceptance, agreement, approval. The touch of the White God's mind upon Sakura's was a soothing bliss, instantly banishing her raging headache. Quenching her pain and her loneliness. I will wait on the other side of your door, She said. When you have opened it, call to me. I will come.

Her light was warm, soft, inviting. Sakura imagined it must feel a little bit like a mother's enfolding arms. It was almost physically painful to wrench herself away, to end the contact with the great peaceful presence of the God... but she did anyway, her loneliness twice as painful for the loss. Wait for me, she called out, as the brilliant white star receded out of sight. It won't take long -

And then the universe around Sakura shattered, all the spinning universes quenched in a wave of blackness. The trance broke in an instant, but instead of being pulled back into her body, her consciousness was sent spinning away into nothingness.

For a long moment there was nothing: no light, no sound, no thought. Sakura was too stunned, too dazed from the suddenness of the impact to even feel afraid. As her thoughts slowly came back to her, a dim golden glow seemed to return to the world; she became aware of the floor underneath her, walls and ceiling receding into shadowy darkness.

Wood floor. Sakura sat up, uncertain and confused. Where was she? This definitely wasn't the shifting vortex of the manyworlds, but it wasn't Fei Wong Reed's great stone cathedral, either. She put her hand up before her eyes and waved it experimentally; she could see a dark outline flapping before her, and when she touched her face she felt the pressure of skin against skin. This wasn't a vision, then; her body was really here. But where was here?

The golden light moved, shadows shifting around her, and grew larger and brighter. After a few moments it resolved itself into a lantern, a tiny flame glowing in a glass bulb being carried by a tall shadowy figure. For a moment Sakura was assaulted by intense deja vu, remembering the moment that Fei Wong Reed had first taken her out of her home and brought her to his stronghold. Had everything since then just been a dream?

"Don't be frightened, child." The voice was a woman's voice, unfamiliar, but calm and mellow. The figure raised its - her - hand, and the lantern light brightened on the white skin of a beautiful lady. She looked vaguely Nipponese to Sakura's uncertain eyes, her hair and eyes dark in the firelight, a faint epicanthic fold in the corner of her eyes. She regarded Sakura measuringly, thoughtfully. "Welcome to my shop."

"Shop?" Sakura looked around, confused. Her voice did not echo against the wooden surfaces, the echoes swallowed up in the soft shadows. "Where am I? And who are you?"

In response, the woman turned away from Sakura and raised the lantern high to rest it on some bracket against the wall. She adjusted something at the base of it, and the golden glow rose to illuminate the shadow-shrouded room. Other golden lights began to bloom at intervals around the walls, illuminating a strange parlor-like room. It was beautifully decorated, with gold-embossed decorations and elaborately carved wooden furniture, but many of the things in it were strange and unfamiliar to Sakura's eyes. White metal boxes set into the walls, glass windows that showed only a matte blackness; tiny, jewel-like things the size of Sakura's hand that glittered and flashed with a pale light of their own. "Are - are you a magician?" Sakura asked uncertainly.

"Of a kind." The woman turned back to her, and now that the room was fully lit Sakura could see just how imposing she was. She was tall - the tallest woman Sakura had ever seen - and her height was emphasized by the elaborate loops and curls arranged in her hair. She wore a dress of fine, heavily embroidered fabric that poured from her body and swept the floor, with necklaces glittering on heavy strands around her neck. "My name is Yuuko, and this is my domain - outside of the reach of time and space. I brought you here, Sakura, because I thought we needed to talk."

Chapter Text

They climbed the steps that Fai had carved into the cliff face and passed through the hole that had been blown into the wall - the edges were perfectly smooth and round, only a layer of sand and dust coating the bottom of it proving that it hadn't been carved there, a sally port built into the castle wall as part of the design.

Inside they stepped into a room that might have been another world - a homey, domestic scene set with tables and cups and plates. Tasteful tapestries adorned the walls, sunlight streamed over the dark, richly grained wood, and the sweet smell of syrup and strawberries hovered in the air.

"Not sure what I expected the stronghold of an evil wizard to look like," Kurogane commented, "but this sure wasn't it."

"I don't know, I think the decor could use a little livening up?" Fai said brightly. "A few vases of flowers would really freshen up the room. Petunias, begonias -"

"But where's Princess Sakura?" Syaoran broke into their banter, ever focused on his goals. The revelation outside of the citadel had been a shock to him, Kurogane thought, but he was recovering rapidly - by focusing on what he had come here for, and the people who still needed him, instead of on the past. Kurogane approved. What was done was done and couldn't be changed; if they were to change the future, they'd need all their wits about them.

Fai lifted one hand, and blue lines swirled upwards from his fingers to coalesce into a shimmering sculpture of light. "Here's where we are," Fai said, and a brighter dot pulsed at one outside edge. The strange shape fell into place as a tiny, exquisitely detailed map, and Kurogane studied it with a new interest. "These outer tunnels seem to be mostly utility and storage, from what I can tell. We'll need to go farther up and farther in to find what we're looking for."

"And the Princess?" Syaoran asked.

Fai grimaced. "I can't sense Sakura in here," he said. "No doubt Reed is cloaking her."

"So we'll have to search the whole place?" Syaoran interrupted, dismayed, and Kurogane grimaced in turn. "There's no way we'll have time for that!"

"I know. But although I can't sense Sakura directly, I can still sense the lingering imprints of her presence," Fai said. A blush of pink shading settled over the glowing map. "They're strongest here, and here. These rooms are smaller and off to the side, so I'm guessing this one is a bedroom. This larger one in the center could be anything at all, but it's protected by wards, so I can't get -"

"Intruders!" a voice broke in, shrill with panic. The three of them whirled around to see a woman standing in the doorway, dressed in somber black and grey. A tray tumbled from her hands, a jug of milk crashing on the stone floor and splashing over her feet and legs. The white-spattered hem of her dress whirled as she turned and ran, disappearing from the doorway before any of them could move to stop her.

They could still hear her voice, though, raising the alarm down the corridor: "Outsiders, infidels! Help, help...!"

"Damn," Kurogane said mildly, lowering Ginryuu; he'd drawn the sword the instant he'd sensed her presence, but hadn't had a chance to use it. His ribs protested the sudden movement - he was willing to bet he'd broken a few of them when he hit the ground - but he shoved the pain firmly away and locked it down. He couldn't afford to let his movements slow down or stiffen up in the crunch; there'd be time to worry about minor things like a cracked ribcage in a few hours.

Assuming they were still alive in a few hours.

"Guess they know we're here," Syaoran said bravely, squaring his shoulders.

"We couldn't hope to keep it secret," Fai said, moving towards the doorway of the dining chamber. "It can't be helped. Hurry, let's get as far as we can before we run into trouble."

Trouble ran into them barely ten yards down the corridor; a pair of black-clad guards, sheathed in face-concealing masks and wielding nasty-looking bladed on each hand, charged at them from around the corridor. Kurogane stepped forward, covering his two companions as his own sword flashed out.

Against Kurogane's strength and reflexes, honed to fight demons, mere humans didn't stand a chance. He swept his sword downwards, shaking the excess blood off the blade, although he didn't bother to clean it further; there would be plenty more blood on his sword before the day was through.

His blood bond with Fai was recent and strong enough that he could feel his lover's unhappiness at the deaths; but he neither objected, nor took action to subdue their foes with magic. With so little time and the stakes so high, even Fai was in no mood to take chances by showing mercy to their enemies.

"Which way do we go?" Syaoran said as they reached the hallway intersection. His own sword was in his hands, and although he seemed shaken by the violent deaths of the two guards, his grip was steady.

Fai had brought his light-map with him down the hallway, and it swirled now as it oriented itself, the bright lines matching up with the four-way intersection they now faced. The hallway behind them dead-ended in the dining chamber where they'd come in; the cross-corridor ran left and right along the wall, curving inwards in each direction. Ahead of them the hallway ran for a short way, then leapt up a flight of stairs and continued on to the main complex.

"The main chamber I can't identify is ahead, closer to the center," Fai said. "The other place where Sakura's presence is stronger is off to the left. I'm not sure where she is now."

"We should split up to cover ground faster!" Syaoran volunteered, and Kurogane's grim expression deepened. It made sense, but he didn't like the thought of being separated from either of his companions. At the same time, there wasn't time to stand around and argue the decision -

"You!"

The thunderous voice split the air; it was much louder, more foreboding than when Kurogane had heard the same voice outside in the garden, but it struck him with the same deep murderous conviction. He turned to see the dark sorcerer standing at the top of the stairwell, blocking the corridor and seeming to take up the whole sky in his imposing black robes. One hand was raised, showing the hateful gold-and-black bat sigil on the cuffs of his arms - but he wasn't pointing at Kurogane, wasn't even looking at him.

Instead, his furious attention was all focused on Fai. "You were supposed to be in Ceres now, you upstart brat!" Reed snarled. "How did you get in here? How did you even find this place?"

Fai laughed, tense and breathless. "You've become sloppy, Reed!" he taunted. "Careless and sloppy. In your arrogance you thought that you could see everything; it never occurred to you to worry about what you couldn't see. I was right behind them all the time, Reed. Your own servant led me right to you!"

Kurogane's battle instincts sang with the urge to attack Reed, to cut him to pieces while he stood there bantering - but he held himself back, not without difficulty. He'd tried that out on the wall and it hadn't done a damn bit of good; not only had his strongest attacks not killed the wizard, he'd lost Souhi without so much as inconveniencing his enemy. The fact that Reed hadn't bothered to attack him in return meant that Kurogane didn't even register on him as a threat.

The same was clearly not true of Fai. Reed's expression darkened, a mix of righteous fury seasoned with just a bit of uncertainty - or fear? He drew back his arm, and the air around his hand seethed and flickered. The sharp smell of sulfur and ozone hit Kurogane's face, starting at just a whiff but building up to a sudden spike -

Kurogane just had time to grab Syaoran and pull him aside, throwing them both flat against the cold stone hallway. Even so, the wave of heat and noise that washed over both of m hit them like a hammer blow, stunning them both in an explosion of infernal roaring.

But the two of them were lucky - or rather, hadn't been the true target of Reed's pyroclastic spell. Fai had, and Kurogane caught just a glimpse of the mage raising his hands and opening his mouth before a shell of brilliant golden light burst around him.

Sakura surveyed the strange woman - Yuuko - with some wariness. "How did you know my name?" Not that Sakura was surprised, by this point; she'd have been more surprised if the stranger who'd brought her here didn't know her name. But she'd had enough of all sorts of strange witches and wizards and religious fanatics who knew altogether too much about her for comfort, and she wanted an explanation.

"That is a long story," Yuuko replied, "which is bound up in the reason I called you here - there are many things you need to know, child. But we'll get to that in time. Before we start, are you hungry? Thirsty? Would you care for some tea?"

"Yes, please," Sakura said automatically.

Yuuko brought the steaming, gilded teapot to the low table which sat between two kitty-corner chairs, at which several delicate porcelain mugs had already been laid out. She poured the tea and set the pot aside, and made a small gesture; the teapot floated languidly into the air and began to pour itself into the cups. Sakura wasn't sure when it had happened, but suddenly several small plates with red-glazed pastries were sitting next to the steaming teacups. "Make yourself comfortable, child," Yuuko said.

Sakura hesitated, and she must not have hidden her flash of doubt well enough because Yuuko added with a faint smile; "The food and drink are perfectly safe, and will not have any harmful or adverse effects on you on any way; except perhaps that if you eat too much of them you'll get fat."

"You're telling the truth," Sakura stated. It wasn't a question.

Yuuko nodded, as if unsurprised. "You have always been able to tell, have you not? When someone is telling the truth and when they are lying. It grows out of who you are, and what you were born to become."

"What do you mean?" Sakura said.

Yuuko gestured towards the chair again, and reluctantly, Sakura sat. It was obvious that Yuuko wasn't going to explain anything until she did. "It is a long story," she said, "and it will take a long time to tell, but that doesn't matter. This place is outside the rules of space and time, and when you leave here, it will be as if no time has passed."

Sakura picked up her teacup and sipped cautiously; the tea was very good, hot and bitter and with a faint trace of citrus. She took an experimental bite out of the scone, and found it filled with a sugary raspberry jam.

Yuuko watched her for several long moments in silence, her eyes distant and thoughtful as they studied her; Sakura found her face growing warm, and she squirmed as though Yuuko's piercing eyes were seeing right through to the back of her soul. At last Yuuko sighed, and leaned back in her padded sedan.

"Let us begin at the beginning," she said.

"This was a very long time ago - more than fifteen hundred years, without getting into specifics. At that time there was no Nihon empire, no Ceres, no Valeria - the only kingdom you'd still recognize today would be Clow country, and even that went by another name. You might not even recognize the land you were born on, for there were no mountains in those days, and the Stork river flowed due west across the plains until it met the sea.

"In those days, a small band of researchers - let's call them wizards, for the sake of simplicity - set out to unlock the secrets of the universe. The details… don't really matter now; the important thing was that they succeeded in tapping into powers greater than any of them could have wished for in their wildest dreams. Of those wizards, the foremost among them was a man named Clow Reed."

"Clow… Reed?" Sakura looked up uncertainly. "Clow, like in the country of Clow?"

"The country came later," Yuuko replied.

Sakura's eyes widened. "And Reed like - like Fei Wong Reed?" she stuttered.

"Yes." Yuuko nodded, and her eyes slid halfway shut. "Only two other wizards could even begin to approach Clow Reed in his wisdom or power. One of them was his younger brother, Fei Wong. And the other -" she reached up and touched her chest, and a brief, sad smile crossed her face and was gone - "Was his wife. Me."

"But…" Sakura sat stunned by the implication. "That would mean that Mister Reed is over fifteen hundred years old?"

"Yes," Yuuko said. "The three of us were inseparable in those days. We were so young…" She sighed. "So very idealistic. And what would you expect three young, idealistic people to do when suddenly gifted with power unimaginable?

"We set out to save the world.

"We all studied different fields. I chose to study the human body and its prodigal child, the soul. I set out to learn the cure for all ailments, wasting diseases of the body or afflictions of the spirit. It was I who first unlocked the secrets of tapping into the magical currents to slow aging to nothing, to extend our lifespan indefinitely. We were overjoyed… not for our own sakes, you understand, but because this meant our studies would not be limited to the few handfuls of years of a human lifetime.

"Because the more we learned, the more we realized how much more there was to learn. And saving the world from itself turned out to be something easy to say, hard to do.

"My brother-in-law never had much interest in studying this world; he was always more interested in what lay beyond. He studied astronomy, harvesting knowledge of the universe and its laws and rhythms… when the distances involved became too problematic for him, he turned instead to other worlds which he could reach beyond the veils of reality itself. He dreamed of contacting other life, other worlds with humans, to travel, to exchange knowledge and study.

"Clow Reed, on the other hand, had what was in some ways a very simple view of life. He wanted to make the world we lived in a better place - a paradise on earth. Clow Reed thought, you understand, that if he could give people the perfect place to live, then they would be happy there. A place where there would always be enough food, where the water would be clean and plentiful - where no predators or parasites preyed on people, where storms never lashed, where the cold would never bite… then people could live happily there.

Yuuko fell silent for a moment, her gaze pensive and inward-looking. Her mouth tightened and she took a long breath before she continued; evidently this was a part of the story that was very hard for her to tell.

"It didn't work out that way, of course," she said in a slightly brisker tone. "The land he had built stone by stone, the country that was named for himself - Clow - soon became the target over other peoples' avarice. A rich valley that was Paradise on earth? No feudal warlord could be expected to resist such a temptation. Clow… it hurt him to raise his hand against fellow human beings, but he had to defend his country, his people. Fei Wong and I helped him, of course. We soon learned harsher lessons, and more terrible applications of those fields of magic that we loved; fire called out of the heavens to scorch the ground, subtle mists that would crawl through the armies of our enemies and leave nothing but carrion the next morning. After all, a spell that could cure sickness could just as easily - more easily - induce it instead.

"Three wizards, however powerful, can only do so much. One day we received word that a vast army had gathered on the shores of the Bering Sea, soon to march across the plains and overwhelm us. We could have stood against them, if we'd tried. We could have slaughtered them to a man. But these roving bands of warriors had brought all their tribesmen with them, their old men and women and wives and children, and Clow Reed could not bear it." Her voice fell. "Truth be told, neither could I."

"Clow Reed's solution was… simple, as his outlook was always very simple. Ambitious beyond belief, but simple. He knew the commands of the earth, the rock and wood and water, and he could command the weather above and the very ground below. He brought to bear all his power - more power than any wizard had evercommanded before - and he raised a wall of mountains between our people and theirs."

Sakura's eyes widened. "The Windhome Mountains?" she breathed, as the connection clicked home. Yuuko gave her an approving nod and a smile.

"They're still there, you know," she said, "on the far side of the mountains - without magic themselves, they could find no way to get over or around such a barrier, and so they eventually gave up and settled right on the coast. But the mountains changed the shape of the land - the wind and the rain could not scale such a barrier either, and so the fertile land Clow Reed worked so hard to build gradually became a desert, and the people of that land scattered into a hundred nomadic tribes."

"Didn't Clow Reed mind that?" Sakura asked. She had forgotten about the teacup in her hand, entranced by Yuuko's tale. She took a sip of the tea and was surprised to find it still as piping hot as when it had been poured. More magic, perhaps?

"My husband…" Yuuko's voice was thick, heavy with grief. Her eyes glinted with tears. "For that final great spell, which cleaved the land in two and saved his people… there had never been such a work of magic before. Perhaps he did not know that it would cost him his life in the casting… but perhaps he did know, and accepted the price."

"Oh." Sakura wilted a little in her chair.

Yuuko shook her head slowly, the light gleaming off the dark coils of her hair. "After that, neither Fei Wong nor myself had any heart for playing at kings and queens," she said. "We were content to let the people scatter, to withdraw into our own studies. Clow Reed was our heart, I think, the great moral center that brought us together. Perhaps even back then I should have realized… but I was lost in my own grief at the time.

"We still dreamed of saving the world. We still dreamed of making life better for human beings. But we soon realized that we would have to save the world despite people, despite that restless nature that drives man to snatch and tear greedily at one another. With only two of us against the rest of humanity, what could we hope to accomplish? We both lost ourselves in research, after that.

"It was about this time that I started experimenting with creating wizards," Yuuko said. Sakura sat up straight in shock, staring at Yuuko, who gave her a nod. "Oh, yes. Magic was a very rare gift in the world before then. I thought to myself, perhaps salvation could not be imposed from outside. Perhaps it would have to come from within. I thought, if I could give people the tools to savethemselves… then we would no longer be alone in our fight.

"I devised a hundred different gifts - seeds, I called them, to be planted in the fertile soil of the human soul. Gifts for healing, of self and others. Gifts of sight and foresight, of speech of the mind and speech between souls. There were others, many others - I won't bore you with a full catalogue. I learned the art of surgery of the soul, and I grew subtle and powerful in my witchcraft."

Sakura started. "Fai-niisan said that witch is a pejorative term people call women of power when they don't understand her magic and fear it, and that I shouldn't use it to describe people," Sakura said uncertainly. "He said I should use the proper words when talking about people."

Yuuko smiled, and this time the smile spread all across her face and crinkled the lines beside her eyes. It made her look much more human, kindly and a bit mischievous. "How kind of him," she laughed. "But in this case, witch is the most accurate term to describe a woman who does the sort of magic that I do, so rest assured I won't be offended if you call me one.

"Centuries passed in my studies, generations of humans that grew, bore children, died. I soon learned that the human soul is a complex and fertile garden, and that while I might sow the seeds, I could not always be certain of the result. There are still children out in the world today who bear the mark of my experiments, but with powers I never intended, never would have foreseen. I ran more experiments, refined my methods. I created gifts of magic which would scatter among a population, adapt itself to each locale and each culture and bloom into a hundred different ways.

"I saw, to my utter frustration, that the children who bore my gifts often found themselves targeted, persecuted; those without the gifts of magic feared and hated those who had them. I searched for a better way; ways for my children to hide their talents, ways to make them more accepted by society. I made plans for great spells that would blind the ungifted to those with the gifts, that would dull their suspicions and make them forget their fears.

"And over time… I began to doubt myself. What right did I have to play God, to so blithely alter the very substance of a human being for the sake of my own ambitions? How could I claim to be helping these people, while I worked plans to suppress their very free will?"

She was silent for a long moment, her face wavering behind the upwelling steam of the teapot.

"Fei Wong and I argued many times about free will," she said, her voice so quiet as to barely be heard in the dead silence of the shop. "While I had been preoccupied with my own studies… my own grief… Fei Wong had withdrawn into himself. He had become cold. He argued that free will was but a figment of our imagination, a pretension of significance against the vastness of the cosmos. He argued that it was a greater evil to let people do harm to themselves; that the small sin of violating supposed 'free will' was justified if the end result was beneficial.

"He had become interested in the beings that lived in other dimensions. More than interested; obsessed. He would spend months at a time locked in his sanctum, using his great lenses to scry the cosmos… He became obsessed with the idea that a savior must come from outside this world; that humanity was essentially flawed, and that it was hopeless to try to change them from within. We argued about that, too. The more I learned of his intentions, the more alarmed I became.

"Some time earlier, Fei Wong Reed had asked me to create something for him," Yuuko continued. Her gaze sharpened upon Sakura. "A very special, very specific talent. Create a child, he said, who had the gift of languages beyond language; who could speak not only in all tongues of man, but in the languages of heart and thought that transcended all barriers, who could communicate even with the beings that lived beyond the stars. He posed it to me as a thought experiment, and at the time… I was intrigued, I admit. It was a challenge, at a time when not very much remained that could stretch the limits of my skill.

"But I had already become wary of Fei Wong's motives. I worked for many years and at last I found a way to give him what he wished, I fashioned the gift of tongues that could speak to anything, anything, and receive an answer. I created the potential in a human soul who could call to any sentient being in any universe, and be answered.

"At the last moment I hesitated. With the triumph of accomplishment behind me, I found myself once more wondering what Fei Wong's motivations were. And so I hid my final work, scattering it out into humanity, seeding the potential for this rarest of gifts among all the men and women who lived on the margins of the desert that had once been Clow. The seeds were planted, but only I knew when they would bloom.

"I went to see Fei Wong in his laboratory that last night. We argued; and at last his true intentions became clear. He intended to break all the rules, all the laws of the universes, to bring one of the beings from outside the veil into this world. He had learned much, while I had been preoccupied. He could cast his mind out into the void and find a likely candidate, he could even open the gate between worlds… but the beings of other dimensions were too unlike us, too alien, and he could not communicate with them. It was for that reason that he needed me.

"I called him an arrogant fool, a madman, a - well, many words were exchanged, anyway. He called me a traitorous whore, disloyal to the memory of his brother, betraying the humanity which we had sworn to serve. I told him I would never help him with his mad plan, that I would never serve such an abomination. He demanded that I turn over to him the child I had created for him; I refused.

"And then he killed me."

The golden shell of light that encased Fai quivered under the onslaught of brimstone and fire. His silhouette behind the smoking curtain flickered, then vanished. Kurogane surged forward, heart in his mouth, before another memory took hold of him: the fight between Fai and Seishirou in the lair of the Master of Demons, half a year ago. He remembered how Fai had vanished from sight - 'going out of phase,' as he had called it, to fight the magician on more equal turf.

Now that Kurogane knew what to look for, he saw an indistinct shimmer in the air dart upwards towards the ceiling, skittering from one wall to another as it closed the distance. Reed tracked it too, his scowl deepening as he threw one bolt of sulfurous fire after another down the hallway; but the will-o-the-wisp that he targeted was too light and agile for him to connect.

Bolts of pale blue light flashed through the air as Fai counterattacked, scattering out in a focused arc. Some of them missed, and blasted chunks out of the floor and ceiling; but most of them hit their mark, thudding into thin air and grounding themselves without a spark on Reed's shield. They didn't seem to hurt him much but they did, Kurogane noticed, definitely seem to annoy him.

"Enough! I have no time for this!" Reed exclaimed. He raised both of his hands above his head, and dark crackling energy coagulated beneath his arms. He threw both hands down, and a wave of darkness roared out in front of him to sweep down the stone hallway. It rushed towards them like a tidal bore, deep black purple shot through with blinding streaks of yellow-green. Kurogane tensed, readying his sword - how could he block a wave of pure darkness? - but the pale shimmer darted back down in front of him, and a flash of light cleaved the black wave, washing it off harmlessly to either side.

"He hits like an elephant," Fai observed, flickering back into view. "Strong, but slow. Must be all that old age catching up with him."

"If you're faster than him, that means you can beat him, right?" Kurogane said impatiently. "It doesn't matter how strong he is if you get in the first hit, right?"

Fai shook his head grimly. "It's not that simple, Kuro-sama," he said. "I'm hitting him with all I've got, but it's not making much of a dent. He only has to be lucky once; I have to be lucky all the time."

Reed cursed, and wheeled around; his cloak flashed behind him, edged with yellow-green glimmers of light, and then he was gone.

"I'm going after him," Fai said, and his hands were already weaving blue light-runes around him. "I'll keep him busy. Find Sakura, Kuro-sama. She's at the heart of all of this. Find her and stop whatever Reed is doing with her!"

Before Kurogane could respond, light swirled up around Fai and he, too, vanished from sight. The stone hallway seemed suddenly smaller, dark and crowded and littered with blasted sand and chunks of smoking debris.

"Sensei? Which way do we go?" Syaoran said anxiously.

"Only way we can go, kid. Forward." Fai had taken the map with him when he left - or, more likely, had lost control of it during his skirmish with Reed - but Kurogane still remembered the layout of the complex. The great central chamber, the one Fai hadn't been able to see into it - Kurogane was willing to bet that whatever was going down, it would be there.

Another shout - only human this time, not magically amplified - came from the cross corridor; Kurogane glanced quickly into the hallway and saw crowds of black-clad guards converging on them from either direction. He gritted his teeth as he realized that by vanishing in pursuit of Reed, Fai had left him and Syaoran behind to deal with every other human being in the castle.

Wasn't that just typical.

"Just watch yourself, kid," Kurogane said grimly, and stepped out into the intersection to face the enemy.

Sakura blinked, and her mouth dropped open. She had said it so simply, so pragmatically. "B-but, don't you mean… um…" she floundered.

"Yes, he killed me," Yuuko said calmly. "But he discovered quickly that it is not so easy to remove a witch from the world if she does not wish to go. I had set my own plans in motion long before - did he think that he could study my methods, but I could not study his? I created this place for myself, a little bubble riding on the surface of this shimmering world. Here I am beyond his reach, but also helpless to act upon the world. Outside of time and space, unable to act, forever to watch."

Yuuko sat up straight, and her eyes - thousand-year-old, faraway eyes - came back to focus piercingly on Sakura once more. "Do you understand now why I have brought you here?" she asked quietly.

Sakura opened her mouth, but all that came out was a squeak. She took a quick gulp of the tea, big enough that it almost scalded her throat. She coughed, and was finally able to speak. "Y-yes," she stammered. "I - I'm the child, aren't I? The one you, you created, who could call to the beings from other worlds. The one Mister Reed was looking for."

Yuuko nodded gravely. Sakura leaned forward, words tumbling out over and over themselves. "But, but, there's one thing I don't understand! Why are you so set against having the White God come? I've spoken with her, I know she's nice. She's completely good, not like humans. She wouldn't hurt us, she could help us. So why won't you let Mister Reed and I bring her in? She could save everyone - he told me so! And he wasn't lying!"

The witch sighed, looking suddenly tired, and sat back in her chair. "Dear Sakura," she said, "the child who speaks all the languages of the heart. No, Fei Wong Reed did not lie to you - he could not, for lies are just another language, and one you cannot mistake. But that does not mean that he cannot deceive. He can misdirect, he can mislead, he can distract - and even if every word he says is true, it is the words he does not speak that contain the final truth."

Sakura was about to object, but then hesitated. Yuuko was right about Fei Wong Reed, wasn't she? He hadn't lied, but he'd hidden things from her. He'd lied by omission about the souls trapped in the crucible - what else had he lied about?

"The White God exists on a level of magnitude entirely different from our poor souls," Yuuko said. "She is a creature of pure magic, an entity composed entirely of will. We are to her as insects, or even less. A being with that much power doesn't need to bear us any ill will to do us great harm. A careless brush of a hand can destroy those flies as easily as a deliberate swat, especially to one who does not even have the concept of death. Do you understand?" Yuuko was leaning forward, her voice intent and urgent.

"No - I -" Sakura stuttered, flustered and groping for balance. "But she wouldn't... she wouldn't hurt us, she's good..."

Yuuko sighed, shaking her head. "I do not doubt that the White God is a being of good, Sakura," she said gently. "A creature like her does not even comprehend the idea of evil. And in her home universe, she has always been alone. She does not understand the concept of individuality, or free will, or choice, or even other. We humans live every day in balance, in struggle, making our choices between what we know to be right and what tempts us to be wrong. We interact with each other, we fight and cooperate and make compromises. But the White God knows no compromise.

"And the magnitude of her power is such that the moment she crosses over the barrier into our world, her psychic aura will instantly overwhelm that of every human being on this planet. Everyone - man, woman and child - will become an extension of her all-encompassing will. The whole human race will be as one, a single harmony of thought of purpose, incapable of even comprehendingdissent or separation. Oh, the bodies will still exist - a few hundred thousand shells walking around separately, carrying out mechanical tasks. But everything that made them human - all thoughts, all dreams and hopes and fears and memories… all that will be gone. Forever.

"The instant the White God passes into our world, Sakura, that will be the end of humankind's time on this planet."

Sakura said nothing, as tears overflowed her eyes and poured down her face. Yuuko was right. She was right. Sakura could feel her dreams, her hopes, breaking and dying inside her. All dying…

"Why?" Sakura whispered, struggling to control the sobs. "Why is Mister Reed doing this? If… if he's spent so much time studying her… then why... doesn't he know?"

"Perhaps he still doesn't believe that will happen," Yuuko said quietly. "I told him, I warned him - but he heard only what he wanted to hear. Perhaps he thinks he has some way of controlling the God, of bending her to his will. Perhaps he thinks that he alone will escape the psychic holocaust, retain his autonomy and in so doing he will have sole command of every human on the planet. Or perhaps he has lived so long that he just no longer cares. Immortality can be its own curse - no one knows that better than I. Perhaps he feels that an end - any end, no matter how final - is preferable to eternal suffering."

An involuntary keening sound ripped from Sakura's throat; she hastily covered her mouth with her hand to try to stifle it, rocking back and forth in her chair. How, how could everything have gone so wrong? All she'd wanted was to make a difference, to be a part of something great. Even after all the sad and terrible things that she'd seen, even knowing that she was a part of making all those pour souls in the crucible suffer - she'd been able to bear it, knowing that it would be all right in the end. But instead she had been the tool of something terrible; she was overcome by the horror of what she had almost done, what she had almost brought upon the world.

Fei Wong Reed had told her it would be a good thing... Fei Wong Reed had lied, lied, lied... and she had believed him. She'd believed him, because she'd wanted to believe. She'd wanted to believe that she could make a difference.

"I've been so stupid," she whispered.

"Don't blame yourself so much, Sakura," Yuuko told her, very gently. "You were a latecomer to this game, this centuries-old power struggle between two arrogant old warlocks. Fei Wong worked very, very hard to conceal his true intentions from you, because he knew what would happen if you knew the truth. And now, you know.

"You have a choice to make, Sakura. In a few minutes you will leave this place, and you will return to the world in Fei Wong Reed's citadel. I will not - cannot - do anything to help or harm you once you leave this place. What you do once you reach there is in no one's hands but your own. But remember, Sakura - when you choose, you choose not just for yourself, but for everyone. For your father, for your brother, for all the peoples of Ceres and Nihon, all the scattered remnants of Clow, the kingdoms of the far shore that are all that remain of that conquering force. You choose for them, and you choose for forever."

For a moment - just a moment - Sakura could feel the pull of that dark temptation. So many people out there, hurting and afraid and angry and hurting each other, no matter what she or anyone could do. And if evil truly was branded into human nature, like Fei Wong Reed said, like even Yuuko said, then that struggle and pain would never stop no matter what she or anyone else did. Maybe... maybe it would be better... just to make all the hurting stop...

But that was never really an option, and she knew it. Because in between all those moments of misery and doubt there was joy, too, jokes and triumphs and forgiveness and love. She had people she loved, too, her father and Fai-niisan and Yukito and all the court at Ceres and Kurogane-san and - and Syaoran, too. If she did what Fei Wong Reed wanted she would never see him again, never talk to him again, never hear stories from him again... and so there was only one thing she could do.

Sakura stared into the teacup, then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "That's not really a choice, is it?" she said, and her voice wobbled. She tried to firm it up. "I mean, a choice between everyone and everything I know being destroyed or not, isn't really a choice. I won't help Mister Reed any more and when I go back, I'll tell him so."

"He will not yield easily," Yuuko warned her. "Fei Wong Reed has labored for over a thousand years to bring his dream to fulfillment, and there is nothing that he will not do to see it come to pass. Even now he rains death and destruction down on the peoples of the world, using arts of the earth and sky that he learned from Clow Reed... all so that they will be too ruined and distracted to bring opposition against him in the final hour."

"Mister Reed is the one doing all that?" Sakura said, dismayed. Even know, knowing about Fei Wong Reed's dark secret intentions, it still upset her to think that he would be so cruel. "But he told me it was -"

She trailed off, replaying the conversation over in her head. She hadn't thought to ask him if he was the one causing all those terrible things to happen; she'd only asked him if he knew it was going to happen. And he had. He'd made it sound like his dreamseers had foreseen it happening all on its own - but if the storms and fire were all part of his plan, then of course he would know that they were going to happen...

"Clow Reed could have done much better," Yuuko said with distaste, "but Fei Wong never did have his subtle touch, and it is always much easier to destroy than to create, much easier to sicken than to heal. So that none would interfere when he went to steal you away, he brought madness and death on your family in Ceres... using magics that I once developed, in my long study of the human soul. I am sorry for that," she said quietly. "Truly sorry. I never meant for my gifts to be misused this way."

"You shouldn't blame yourself so much, either." Sakura shook her head, determined. "It's Mister Reed who's doing it, not you. This just makes me more determined than ever that I won't help him!"

Yuuko looked at her in silence for a long moment, and something about her gaze was unfathomably sad.

"When you are ready, Sakura," Yuuko said quietly, "let me know, and I will return you to the waking world. Time flows much faster here and there; only a few seconds will have passed since you've been gone. Unfortunately, I can only return you to the same place that you started - since your body, technically, is still there. I fear that there is no way to keep Fei Wong from sensing my magic; he is probably already on his way to investigate."

Now that the moment had come, Sakura was suddenly terrified. "Can I have," Sakura whispered, and swallowed, balling her shaking fists in her skirt. "Can I have a few minutes?"

"Of course," Yuuko said. "You have time to finish your tea."

Another door barred their way, wooden beams set in a stone lintel. Kurogane barely slowed to kick it down, splinters scattering into the room ahead before he leapt into the portal after them. Syaoran followed more slowly.

He'd never imagined, back in Edo, that anything could be more grueling than the endless repetitive drills his teacher had put him through each day. Back then he'd thought it a waste of time; he already knew the moves, so why spend hours repeating the same motions? But now Syaoran saw that the drills - to say nothing of the running and pushups that Kurogane had driven him to do - had barely even begun to prepare him for the grinding rigor of real combat. Without their arduous trek through the desert to hone his endurance Syaoran would have collapsed long ago, but the fact that he hadn't didn't exactly make it easy.

Out here he couldn't stop for a drink, or a rest in the shade, or even a moment to wipe the sweat from his neck. He'd passed the point of tiredness to exhaustion long ago, but there was no choice except to keep moving. They were moving too slowly as it was, their progress hampered by seemingly endless waves of black-clad guards. Kurogane was dealing the bulk of the damage, but that didn't mean Syaoran could be spared. In this warren of stone tunnels enemies could - and did - come at them from every side, and although Kurogane could easily best any individual warrior this place could throw at him he would still be in danger if enough of them swarmed him.

Syaoran was kept busy keeping a clear space, constantly aware of his teacher as he fended off attacks from those slashing claws and struck out. Sticky blood splashed his blade, his hands gummed the soles of his boots; in another time and place that might have bothered him, but now it was just one more irritation.

Every now and again the stone walls of the citadel trembled, shuddering from some great explosion high overhead; it was the only sign they had of the ongoing magical battle between the wizards Fai and Reed. If that great and terrible warlock returned his focus to them, Syaoran knew, they'd be done for; they had to find Sakura while Fai was still keeping Reed busy.

Somehow he reached into himself and found a core of determination he never knew he had, a wellspring of strength that flowed from his center into his limbs and washed away the dangerous fatigue. Sakura, this was all for Sakura. For her sake, he could do anything! He clambered over the splintered wooden doorway after his teacher and found himself in a wide hall lit by chandeliers.

A shout came from their left, and Syaoran whipped his head around to see half a dozen guards running in from the hallway to their left. He took a deep breath and steadied his two-handed grip on his sword, but flinched as the sound of running feet echoed from the right-hand entrance, as well. He resettled his stance, backing towards the far wall as his gaze flickered back and forth, trying to keep both groups in sight at once.

"Che," Kurogane tsked, lowering his sword slightly. Annoyance and frustration chased over his features, hardening into grim resolution. "This could take a while. Kid, go on without me."

"What?" Syaoran said, startled. "But - I can't leave you!"

"The room where that wizard said we'd find Sakura is just up those stairs," Kurogane said, nodding up towards the flight of stairs that emptied into the far side of the hall. "All the life-signs I'm sensing are on the other side of the complex from here; they'll have to pass through this room to go any further, and I can hold them off here for as long as I need."

"But - what about you?" Syaoran cried, torn by indecision.

"I'll be fine," Kurogane said disdainfully. "There's plenty of space in here - I can really open up if I don't have to worry about catching you in the fringes. There's no time to argue, dammit! Go on, get going and find the princess!"

Syaoran didn't stay to argue with that tone of voice; he turned and ran up the broad flight of stairs, the climb stealing the last of his breath and leaving a stitch in his side and slowed his steps despite him. Behind him he heard the crashing sound of crystal on stone as one of the chandeliers came down, accompanied by Kurogane's furious roar.

He trotted through the hallway towards his destination, a tall set of double doors heavily decorated with carvings and enamel. Yellow-green light flickered over the panels, flickering in an intricate pattern, and Syaoran slowed to a stop as he regarded that eerie light warily.

Even as he hesitated a shadow detached from the darkness beside the door and stepped in his path, heeled boots ringing out decisively against the stone. Syaoran's eyes widened as he took in the newcomer; it was a woman, a grown-up with a full black dress tailored to a careful fit and the neckline cut into the shape of Fei Wong Reed's sigil. Her face was pale and severe, surrounded by clouds of curling black hair, and she held a short sturdy baton in her hands as she turned to face him.

"Go no further," the woman said, and her voice had the same vibrant quality that Reed's had, that Fai Flowright's voice had carried. The same weight of magic. "I had foreseen that you would come on this day. I have been charged with defending the Holy Child during her meditations, and none shall pass me... not even you."

"Get out of my way," Syaoran told her, raising his sword threateningly. "You can't keep Sakura from me. Step aside, and I won't hurt you!"

"Hurt me?" The woman's cold, ivory-carved features curved in a smile. "Hurt me? Does a child like yourself imagine you are capable of hurting me? I am Xing Huo, high priestess of the order of the heralds of the white god, and handmaiden to Fei Wong Reed himself!

"He has bid me to defend this chamber against any who would dare intrude upon it, and I will do so with my life," the woman said, and her hands closed upon the wooden baton in her hands and twisted. Shadows boiled up under her hands like a seething pot, pouring downward in lengths to resolve itself into a long black chain with a heavy weight at the end. She lifted her hands up and apart, and a wickedly curved blade snapped out from the upper end of the rod, the black edge glistening as if oiled.

Syaoran's eyes widened in alarm as he recognized the weapon; it was a kusarigama, a sickle and chain, a weapon deadly both at short and long ranges.. It was a difficult weapon to master, but among those with the effort and discipline to do so, a master at thekusarigama could invariably defeat all but the most skilled of swordsmen. A blow from the chain could shatter bones, and a solid hit from the weight at the end could shatter his skull - and that without the uncanny fire that seethed and poured from the weapon, hungry for his flesh.

Xing Hua fell into a stance, the short-handled sickle raised at shoulder length while she handled the length of weighted chain effortlessly in her other hand. Dark fire flowed upwards from the uncanny weapon along her arms, rising up to coat her in a coruscating black aura. "I do not wish to harm you," she said, a sentiment that Syaoran most definitely did not share; "but I will not allow you to interfere with the Master's plans. Leave this place now, boy - or die."

Chapter Text

The world was not as she had left it.

It seemed unfair, Sakura thought, that so much could go wrong when one was asleep (or rather, tranced a thousand miles out of one's own body) and unable to keep up. She had closed her eyes on the familiar, staid setting of the stone-walled throne room; she opened them to a cataclysm.

All around her the rock was trembling and roaring, cracks appearing in the curved walls and fissures opening in the floor. Overhead arched the familiar orange-lit lines of Mister Reed's wards, but they were no longer curving stately loops of power. The pattern warped and sagged, broken into fragments in some places and in others looking to have melted and run in virulent orange streams.

"What?" Sakura began to ask, the words escaping her mouth in a breathless whisper, moments before a tremendous explosion roared somewhere in the depths of the citadel. The stone chamber shook; the orange ward-lines flared, then twisted and sagged further out of the pattern.

"My lady, you're awake!" a female voice exclaimed, and a figure rushed towards her. In her blurred confusion Sakura was slow to put a name to the face, although she knew enough to recognize instantly that it was not Fei Wong Reed nor Xing Hua. Sakura was glad of the reprieve at not having to face Mister Reed yet, but she couldn't help feel a pang of lonely disappointment that her best friend and mentor was not here.

Hinata, Sakura remembered after a frozen moment, with her pale eyes and dark soft hair in a short bob around her face. A cluster of three or four of Sakura's ladies-in-waiting huddled a short way away, clustered on one of the few bare unbroken stretches of ground. They were obviously frightened by the noise and the wreckage and the twisting streamers of burning magic, but Sakura couldn't help but admire the way they clung to their duty in the face of everything.

"What is happening?" Sakura gasped out. She tried to rise from the throne, only to find her limbs too weak and shaking to bear her weight yet. The maid caught her arm and helped her to stand, then to stumble down the broad stone steps towards the floor. The throne alone among all else in the chamber stood unmarked and unperturbed by the destruction, yet none of Sakura's ladies had chosen to retreat there for safety or stability.

"Chosen One, you must come with us," Hinata begged, and her trembling fingers were icy-cold on Sakura's arm. "We must get to safety. We could not disturb you while you were in the trance, but now that you are with us again -"

"What's happening?" Sakura repeated forcefully. As if to answer her, another boom rolled through the stone chamber; the walls rattled, and fine dust filtered down from the ceiling.

"We are being attacked, milady," Hinata said reluctantly. "Invaders have broken into the citadel, infidels seeking to destroy all we have worked for, seeking you. The Herald has gone to hold them off, but it is not safe to stay here, so close to his terrible magics."

"Invaders?" Sakura gasped, and sudden startled hope and fear bloomed and twined together in her chest. Perhaps someone had come to rescue her after all; if Mister Reed was really as bad and evil as Yuuko had said, then surely anyone who was his enemy must be Sakura's friend. Instead of running away like the maid wanted, maybe she ought to be running towards the battle? Maybe the invaders would see her, and pick her up, and they could stop fighting, and Sakura could go home...

The greater part of Sakura tried to crush the hope, warning her that she had no way of knowing who or what the attackers were except that they were apparently willing to bring the citadel down on everyone's heads to get what they wanted. They couldn't be from Ceres; all the wizards were dead, her own father had killed them. Anyone who was left alive was fleeing from the glacier with the rest of her people, far away on the other side of the mountains from here. These new people, who knew who they were or what they wanted? They might be Mister Reed's enemy, indeed, but that didn't mean they would regard her as a friend. And if she ran out there now, in the middle of a fight between two mages, she was just as likely to get killed.

"Milady, come!" Hinata is pulling at her wrists, anxious and pleading as she tries to pull them both towards the other group of ladies-in-waiting and from there to the opposite door, and Sakura knew she should go. She should do as she's told, but she didn't want -

She resisted the pull, and hesitated with a wavering step towards the battle and noise. She didn't want to have to fight with Mister Reed, even if she'd promised Yuuko she would. He'd get angry at her again, like he did before, and Sakura cringed and crumbled at the thought of his thundering voice, his stern eyes. Even worse than his wrath was the thought of his disappointment, that she should fail in the promise she'd given - that in the end she should be no use to him at all.

Useless. Worthless. Like she was in Ceres. Like she had been to her father. Like she was to everyone, in the end. All she'd wanted to do was help people, but somehow everything went so wrong -

"Lady Sakura!" Hinata said, and her voice has gone shrill with desperation. "We must go!" She pulled at Sakura's arms, no longer deferential and gentle but instead half-dragging Sakura across the stone.

"No, wait -" Sakura said, digging in her heels and pulling back. Maybe she couldn't go towards the sounds of battle, couldn't run to the arms of whoever was attacking the citadel - but that didn't mean she had to obey Mister Reed's people, either. Maybe if she could get out from under their eye, she could hide somewhere until this all blows over. Maybe she could sneak out, and run away, and never have to face Fei Wong Reed at all.

She hesitated just a bit too long. A crackling roar sounded from the chambers beyond, worse than all the other explosions put together; it sounded like nothing so much as the anguished bellow of some monstrous beast, screaming its death throes as it was rent limb from limb. The entire chamber shook, vibrating like a bell; the last dull-orange lines of magic convulsed and slid off the walls as though they were merely paint.

White-gold light shot up suddenly from the cracks in the ground, spearing upwards towards the roof overhead. The floor underneath their feet heaved and dipped as though writhing in agony, then cracked into a hundred pieces each outlined in brilliant light -

And then the floor was gone, and Sakura fell.

Syaoran circled warily, keeping his distance from the strange woman who had appeared to bar his way. He felt carefully for footing on the rough stone floor, while his mind raced over everything his master had ever told him about thekusarigama and - more importantly - how to fight it.

What he could remember wasn't very reassuring. Kurogane had told him, in his usual blunt way, that there were only two kinds of wielders of the chain-and-sickle - clumsy fools, and total masters. A fool of the first variety was as likely to hurt himself as any opponent with his own weapon, but among wielders of the second class, only the most masterful of swordsmen could hope to oppose them.

Syaoran wasn't certain which kind this Xing Hua was, but he had a sinking feeling she was no clumsy amateur. Her arms rose gracefully above her head, the wickedly curved blade poised to strike as the long weighted chain beat a steady, humming circle through the air. Her face could have been carved out of ivory, with cold glittering onyx for eyes.

Syaoran licked his lips, and decided to try talking. "I don't really want to fight you," he tried, honestly enough. "I just want to find Sakura. I know she's in here somewhere -"

"Nor I you," the woman said in a voice of cold indifference, "and yet I will, if you continue to press your attentions upon the Chosen One. I am her guardian, and I was always meant to be the final line of defense should any assailant make it this far."

"I'm not going to hurt her!" Indignation flared at the very idea. "I would never hurt her! I just want to keep her safe, to keep something terrible from happening to her!"

"That you would keep her from her sacred purpose, deprive her of the duty and privilege to which she was born, would be a violation more profane than any mere assault," Xing Huo told him. "Yet even now, I would spare you. Turn back, and you can yet live to see this world's redemption."

"I'd sooner die," Syaoran declared defiantly. He planted his feet and squared his shoulders, lifting the tip of his sword as he shifted into the first form. No more circling or talking or running; it was clear that he wasn't going to get past this door until he defeated this opponent.

"So be it then," Xing Hua said, and she lunged. Launching herself from the foot of the stairway towards him, the high ground gave her the momentum that her relatively slight form might otherwise have lacked; the broad arc of the chain gave him no space to dodge in the trammeled corridor.

Startled, Syaoran raised his sword in instinctive defense, even though he knew perfectly well she was still too far to strike him. The chain in her right hand licked out, lashing through the air to clash with the blade of his sword. Impact jolted down the spine of the blade into his hand, accompanied by a strange tingling bite that could only be magic.

The length of chain wrapped around Syaoran's blade, then jerked it powerfully to the side. Syaoran managed to retain his grip on his weapon despite the biting pain, but it pulled him off-balance and wide open. Xing Hua stepped smoothly forward, the curved blade of the sickle whistling down towards his open, undefended body.

Syaoran knew in a flash that he would not be able to free his weapon in time to counter the strike, nor would it do any good to try to block the blade with his open hand. Acting on a sudden instinct, Syaoran stepped into Xing Hua's blow, turning his shoulder forward as a battering ram. Xing Hua's strike went wide; she lost her footing and stumbled backwards. The chain wrapped around Syaoran's blade rattled loose, going from a tight vise to a slack encumbrance.

Syaoran scrambled after her, trying to pursue his momentary advantage - but Xing Hua regained her footing and fell back smoothly. The chain unraveled itself, once more nearly yanking Syaoran's weapon out of his hand, and then came whipping around in a deadly strike. Syaoran had to leap backwards to avoid it, and even then was barely in time. The cold edge of the iron weight at the end clipped the very edge of Syaoran's jaw; he saw stars and his teeth cut into his lip, flooding his mouth with blood.

To fight defensively was to lose. That was truer here and now than ever; somewhere beyond this hallway was Sakura, and they had to reach her before time ran out. Syaoran shifted his weight and took a deep breath, focusing on his center. He drew on the lessons his mentor had taught him, drew on the fire in his belly, calling it down through his legs and up through his arms, down his sword -

And launched his attack, charging across the short distance with a fierce yell on his lips. He saw the line of his sword's path like a rent in the air, a red slash across his opponent's center of mass.

Xing Hua did not flinch; she remained cold as stone, her movements smooth as water. She stepped precisely away from the blow, angling her body and sweeping her sickle down and across her chest. Sword and sickle clashed with a scream of steel, and Syaoran's momentum jolted to a stop; his blow averted, sword canted wildly off-center to the side.

Before he could recover, wrest his weapon free or back away to try again, Xing Hua's left hand came whistling mercilessly overhead. The iron chain wrapped over his shoulder, and the heavy weight slammed into his collarbone with a muffledcrunch of bone. Syaoran's vision went up in an ugly red flare of pain; he screamed and stumbled to his knees.

His breath came in harsh pants, his blood beating frantically in his ears. The dark walls of the hallway swam and crawled in his vision; the staircase ahead, beyond Xing Hua's shadowed silhouette, seemed an impossible cliff to scale. He'd always known, of course, from Sensei's teachings - and the chatter of the other boys - and the legends and songs and stories that were popular in Edo - that a samurai must always be prepared for death. He'd thought he was, he'd thought he was ready when he prepared to march off to war the previous winter against Ceres. But nobody had ever talked about how much it would hurt.

As his vision cleared he realized, with some surprise, that Xing Hua had disengaged - she'd fallen back into her guard stance, blocking the stairway but not advancing on him in his moment of weakness. "Not going soft, are you?" he gasped.

"I do not need to kill you," Xing Hua announced. "I need only to hold you here. You cannot win against me."

Syaoran wobbled to his feet, swaying on his feet until he found his stance. He shifted his arm awkwardly against his chest and raised his sword in his other hand. His left arm was useless, but he still had one working arm and while he had that he could fight. "I'm not giving up," he said.

"Why do you press forward so heedlessly, child?" Xing Hua asked, and although her face remained cold and emotionless, a certain edge crept into her voice; half-exasperated, half plaintive. "What is Princess Sakura to you?"

Syaoran gritted his teeth against the pain of his broken shoulder, tried not to sway too obviously on his feet. "She is my most important person," he said simply. "I never knew my parents - not my real parents, anyway, and I never had a mother. Fujitaka was always a father to me, and after he died I had Sensei, so I never really felt the lack... but it wasn't until I met Sakura that I understood what real love is."

Xing Hua made an impatient sound her throat. "A person whom you knew but a handful of days," she said. "Is that enough to drive you so relentlessly across half the world, through deadly peril and to your doom? Do you think she even remembers you at all?"

Syaoran shook his head, keeping his gaze steady on his opponent. "It's not like that with me and her," he said. "Whether I'd known her for three minutes or three years wouldn't matter. She's special, and I knew it as soon as I saw her. She's the warmest person I've ever known, and she cares more about people than... than anybody I know. I want to protect her because she's worth protecting, not just because I want something from her in return.

"It's not about how she feels about me, whether she loves me or likes me or even remembers my name. I wish that she'd care about me like I care about her, but it doesn't matter if she does nor not. Sometimes in life, if you're lucky, you have that moment where you realize that the person in front of you is more important to the world than you'll ever be; and you want to do anything, cross the desert or die or tear the world apart with your bare hands in order to make their dreams come true. Can you understand that?"

Xing Hua hesitated for a moment - although she stood as still as a statue, there was something about her that seemed to waver, a tiny shift of muscles in the corners of her eyes and mouth.

And then - "I do," Xing Hua said, and the words were like a gate of iron clanging down. She raised her weapons again, and a nauseating halo of dark light rolled out from them.

Move! Kurogane's training roared at him in his head, and he did - blindly, by instinct and by feel, ignoring the disorienting flashes of dark light. He remembered what Kurogane had shown him out in the desert: how to use hiski-senses to distinguish what was hidden, what was alive from what was dead.

Xing Hua was a roaring maelstrom of chaos before him, her vibrant life-sense overgrown and almost overpowering by the dark pulsing energy that imbued her weapons. How it had come to be there, how it had taken her over, Syaoran couldn't even begin to guess - he only saw it, all at once, and in the same flash of instinct he perceived a weakness and moved for it in one lightning-fast movement.

When he blinked again Xing Hua stood before him, her chain arm swung wide and her sickle hand raised overhead, ready to crash down in a ripping blow that would have butterflied him open like a shrimp -

And his sword buried between her ribs, slipping smoothly in the front and protruding several inches from the back.

Her weapons drooped, sagged from their attack positions as the strength bled out of her arms. She stared at him, her face white and eyes pale as she slumped, and the shock of what he'd done crashed on Syaoran like a wave. For all the years he'd trained with Kurogane, tussled with the other Edo boys in the lot and dreamed of marching to war with Ceres - he'd never faced an enemy in live combat before, and never had their blood on his hands.

He had it now, spilling dark and hot and heavy over his hands as he shifted back slightly, tugging at his weapon to bring it free. Xing Hua reached up to pull weakly at the weapon, and when her mouth opened a river of blood spilled forth.

"I always knew..." she gasped, her voice a thick liquid gurgle.

And then she stopped. Speaking. Moving. Breathing.

For a long frozen moment Syaoran stood there, waiting for he knew not what - for Xing Hua to finish her last words, perhaps. For her to explain what she'd meant; always knew what? For her to get up and keep fighting, and reassure him that whatever he'd just done, it hadn't been permanent.

But then the walls rocked with an explosion that paled all those that went before it by comparison; the walls shook, and the floor under his feet actually canted wildly and did not resettle. Syaoran's sword pulled free of Xing Hua's body as he stumbled towards the wall and put a hand out for balance, and the impact reminded him of what he'd almost forgotten.

"Sakura!" he exclaimed, and ran off down the hallway, leaving his opponent sprawled in a pool of blood behind him, dark hair spread against dark stone.

The world around him trembled; in this great stone atrium, the high stone walls and curved vaulting captured the vibrations of each blow and cascaded it back down upon them. Windows set high overhead might once had let in daylight, but the falling dust of pulverised rock and the rising black belches of smoke from each of Fei Wong Reed's strikes combined to shut out any trace of the sun. The warlock raged and thundered, calling up blasts of flame from the molten heart of some distant world; everywhere he glanced or pointed, fire exploded at the point of impact and reduced anything caught in its radius to a charred husk.

Fai was beginning to get into the rhythm of this.

If he'd been a human he would have run himself to death long before, or drained himself of so much magic that his body had not even enough energy left to keep itself alive. But his demon nature sustained him, let him maintain a speed and endurance he never could have matched before, let him draw on a finite but steady command of magic. He could keep doing this for hours, if he had to. He had to.

He ran like he'd never run before, crossing the floor in a sprint ahead of the devouring trail of flame that followed him. When he reached the wall he did not stop but turned his feet and body and ran up against the wall, tilting the local gravity to his aid even as he used a variation on his shapeshifting spell to reduce his weight and impetus to near-nothing. The stone under his feet hissed warningly and he leaped, floating into the air like a leaf on the wind while the patch of the wall where he had just been bubbled and melted. He felt his hair curl from just the bare edges of the conflagration, and sweat mixed with blood ran into his eyes.

He ignored it. In that free-falling moment he had a clear shot and he took it, twisting in midair to return fire to his enemy. Bright blue magic leapt along his hands and crackled in his fingers, before spinning off in a bolt of incandescence that was almost invisible to the naked eye - the very faint blue of the hottest of flames. They thudded into Fei Wong Reed in rapid succession; the first three hit his shield and crackled uselessly into nothingness, but the last two got through. Fei Wong Reed grunted, just slightly, from the pain.

It was his shield that was the problem. Not only did it render him immune to all more mundane sources of threat - like Kurogane's sword - but it shrugged off fire, electricity, poison gas and concentrated entropic decay. Such a shield required a constant expenditure of energy, and the more it had to block, the more energy it drained. At first Fai had hoped to chip it away gradually, wear it down and so exhaust his enemy's reserves, but as the battle ratcheted into higher and higher gear Fai realized that Fei Wong Reed was drawing on a power source of astronomical scope. There was no way Fai was going to drain it; he'd have better luck trying to drink the sea.

In order to have any hopes of getting through that shield at all Fai had to fall back on a dangerous, highly specialized form of magical energy whose frequency was so high and duration so volatile that only a handful of wizards in the world had ever treated it as more than a theory. It was magic in an unbound state, bound; in the natural course of things it only existed in trace amounts in the most intense of crucibles, such as the heart of great stars, where the laws of reality themselves began to fray around the edges.

Fai had made it into a weapon.

If he'd had any choice, he wouldn't have; it was hell on the surroundings. Each missed bolt of energy that winged off and buried itself in the stone walls, Fai knew, did not stop there; it sheared onwards, leaving a hairs-thin rent in the rock as it went, and it would not stop for many long miles. One such fissure would not be a problem, but the more of them he cut into the walls of this place, the less stable the entire structure became. And Fei Wong Reed, with his relentless blasts of explosive flame that rocked the newly weakened walls on their unstable foundations, was not helping.

Between them they were in danger of bringing the whole mountain down around their ears. Fai would not have minded so much, except that Sakura was still in here somewhere.

But Fai knew he had no choice. Even with the most dangerous of all weapons at his command, he was barely enough to scratch his opponent. He could, if he kept up the spell to dissolve the integrity of the shell surrounding Fei Wong Reed - an older lexicon of shamans would have called this a curse - manage to penetrate the shield long enough to get in a few hits. One hit should have done it; a force that would tear solid stone like rotten fabric should have made bloody meat of the man. But whatever secrets Fei Wong Reed had learned in his long years of study, he had done something to make himself more than human, because he'd absorbed a dozen such hits and wasn't dead yet.

Fai wasn't so lucky. He had no shield, no invulnerability; he needed to hit Fei Wong Reed a thousand times to kill him, but Fei Wong Reed only had to hit him once.

So far, he hadn't. He'd worked out a rhythm, a complicated high-speed dance of movement and evasion. He'd memorized the timing of Fei Wong Reed's attacks, the exact count of heartbeats between when he began to cast and when the spell left his fingers, the exact distance between the point of impact and how many paces to a safe different. He danced and weaved and outran every hit, and the spells he managed to fire off in between dodges would - slowly - add up.

Fai grinned exultantly, even as heat-crisped hair whipped across his face and dragged in his mouth. He heard Fei Wong Reed's voice rise in frustrated incantation behind him, and put on a burst of speed; at the instant the fire erupted behind him, he leapt into the air and floated across space.

"Enough!" Fei Wong Reed roared.

Abruptly the tone and rhythm of his spellcasting changed; the by-now familiar spell he was casting shifted red-to-blue and slid away. Fai was caught out in mid-air, without a stone wall to push against to change his direction or speed. The half-seconds seemed to stretch agonizingly as Fai hung helpless in the middle of nowhere, scrambling desperately for a route of escape or the words of a counterspell -

He hit the floor and whirled around, searching for the source of the new attack and for a safe path to avoid it. He caught sight of Fei Wong Reed's face, flushed and smug and triumphant, in the instant before a portal roared up and open beside him and ripped across the space where he was standing.

In the moment before it hit him Fai had time to realize: while he'd been memorizing Fei Wong Reed's rhythm, the warlock had also been calculating his.

Then he was swept by a wall of blue ice, howling frozen some from sunless desolate wall, and all thought shattered into blue.

Another chandelier crashed to the ground, and Kurogane dodged nimbly out of its path. He hadn't been the one to drop that; it had shaken loose from its own moorings with the unforgiving roaring and rattling of the rock walls around them. What the hell was that idiot doing?

After what seemed like an endless battle against the black-clad, steel-clawed mooks, Kurogane had finally run out of enemies to fight. By that time Syaoran had been long gone along the corridor, and Kurogane had no way of knowing which way he'd gone. The muffled explosions and blasts of magic, however, gave him a very good idea where his othercompanion had gotten to.

Through the open doorway he'd caught sight of the battle; brilliant, eye-tearing flashes of fire, heaving clouds of smoke. He'd caught his lover's lithe, bright form leaping from ground to wall to air, and the dark thunderhead of the warlock on the stairs above him.

He could have run in, but Kurogane hesitated. He longed to join the field of battle, rush in and add his sword and fire to Fai's magic, but Fai had told him in no uncertain terms to stay out of it. Kurogane wasn't a fool; he'd had it emphatically demonstrated to him that he couldn't lay a hand on Fei Wong Reed. He couldn't help, and if Fai had to spare magic and attention to protect Kurogane as well as himself from Reed's attacks, the distraction would probably be fatal.

The most Kurogane could do was to hold the doorway, killing any of the black-clad guards who got close, and have faith in Fai. It was hard, standing back and letting Fai take the field alone. Kurogane had never been one to let other people do the fighting, not since he was barely old enough to swing a sword. But he could see in the brief glimpses over his shoulder, spared between one opponent and the next, that more of Fai's strikes were getting through than before. Fei Wong Reed's shields were weakening; if Fai could wear him down to the point where Kurogane's sword could get through, then...

"Enough!" Fei Wong Reed shouted, and Kurogane couldn't help a sarcastic twinge of resentment; he sure did have a high opinion of himself, didn't he, if he thought he could end a battle just because he was sick of it? He forced one of the dark-clad guards back, and glanced over his shoulder -

Just in time to see a sickly blue-green wave of writhing mist sweep over Fai, engulfing him in mid-step.

The blue mist seethed and boiled into a vapor, dissolving and disintegrating even as it mushroomed out in every direction; a few seconds later, the wave of cold slapped him in the face as the trailing edges washed over his position. That had only been the fading, lingering edge of it; how cold must that poisonous mist have been, at its center? He looked for Fai, and his heart jumped when he saw Fai still standing, upright and defiant, in the center of the room.

Then crashed again, when he realized Fai was not moving.

Kurogane dispatched his last enemies with a blast of ki and burst into the shattered, melting, freezing chamber. He was dimly aware off to the side that Fei Wong Reed was standing hunched over, eyes closed, breathing heavily as though he had finished running a race. A part of Kurogane urged him to strike now, while his enemy's attention was diverted; another part of him warned that the warlock would not show such utter disregard for his entrance if he posed any kind of a threat to him.

But the rest of Kurogane's vision was captivated by that one familiar figure, graceful as a heron, one hand half-raised and extended as he stood poised to turn and fly away. But he wasn't moving, why wasn't he moving, he stood still as a stone statue, still as a corpse -

Some of the blue-green mist still lingered in the air, swirling around Kurogane's boots and tangling in the hem of his cloak. A foul smell wafted up to his nose, sharp and nauseating and unlike anything he'd ever smelled before. A crumbling noise distracted him and he glanced down, to see that the threads at the edge of his cape had gone stiff and rigid, crumpling and shattering when the cloth folded.

"Fai?" Kurogane whispered, terror seizing his throat and choking his voice down to a ghost of itself. Despite the bloodstains and char marks on his clothes, Fai seemed pale and oddly bright - a bleached copy of himself - no...

Frost was forming on Fai's skin and clothes, thickening even as Kurogane watched. He stepped around at last to look in Fai's face - his blue eyes were wide open, lips slightly parted as though midword... but no breath passed over those lips. His eyes did not shift, nor did any part of him. Had the foul sorcerer somehow turned Fai to stone?

Hesitantly, afraid of what his fingers would touch, Kurogane reached out and cupped his hand along Fai's cheek. Fai's skin, normally so soft, was hard and unyielding; the first touch sent a painful shock of cold up along Kurogane's hand through his arms, and his fingers quickly numbed. They left behind a darker patch along Fai's cheek, smudged where the frost had temporarily melted.

Not stone. Ice. Fai was stone-cold, frozen solid through. Not a hint of life or movement left to him.

Movement behind him, a shuffling footstep but not even Kurogane's well-honed battle reflexes could tear his gaze away from Fai now. At least, it could not until a shadow fell over his shoulder, and a hated voice intoned, "He brought this upon himself."

All reason deserted him. Kurogane forgot that he could not harm Fei Wong Reed, forgot that the warlock could crush him like a bug, forgot everything: he turned and lunged in one smooth moment, his gaze mapping his enemy's position and aiming his blow all in a single instant. A wordless scream rose in his chest, all the ki he still had left in him surging up along with his breath and down his hands into his sword.

He felt resistance, and then - then the point of his sword punctured through, and for a moment triumph swelled high in Kurogane's breast. But even as the blade approached Fei Wong Reed's dark scowl, it hissed and writhed like a wooden brand thrust into a fire. With every inch he forced the weapon forward, more of it crumbled into rust and fell away, until at last Kurogane stopped, shaking, with the naked hilt of his father's sword buried at the edge of the barrier that protected Fei Wong Reed's unmoving, untouchable face.

For a moment the tableau hung, as though all of them had been frozen in place and not just Fai. But time ticked on, and ice melted; Kurogane had only a whisper of warning before the icebound form of his lover and comrade shifted, then slowly toppled to the side.

Kurogane got himself around faster than he could have imagined; a terrifying vision of Fai's body shattering when he hit the ground filled his mind. He caught the freezing body in his arms and lowered him gently the rest of the way. But even the lessened impact of Kurogane's arms around him brought terrifying crunching noises, and as he laid Fai's stricken body on the scorched and frosted ground deep ominous cracks began to appear along his skin.

"He brought this on himself," Fei Wong Reed repeated in a growl. "He would have destroyed everything, even now. I had no choice but to strike him down."

Almost. They'd almost done it, Fai had managed to work down Fei Wong Reed's shield until steel weapons could almostpass through it into his flesh. If only they'd had more time - if only Fai had been able to hold out a little longer, if Kurogane could have helped him, if, if, if - how was it they could come so far, and sacrifice so much, and yet have it be all in vain?

His muscles screamed to lash out, finish the job, yet even if he'd been free to move it was impossible to penetrate that arcane shell. Kurogane's throat worked, tears clogging his downcast eyes even as threats and curses blotted like ash upon his lips. He could almost hear himself saying to Fai, to Syaoran, For fuck's sake don't waste time talking to him...Yet what else could he do, when action failed and prayer failed and hope failed with it?

"I could kill you," the warlock growled, and his voice wavered between stone-cold indifference and red-hot, depthless fury. His expression, too, wavered between an unmovable scowl and a furious snarl, lips peeling back over white gums and the whites of his eyes shot with black veins. "I should kill... you... you have tread upon my domain, inconveniently destroyed my servants, you dared... you dared..."

One hand jerked towards him, out from under that hated, hated sigil on his sleeves; it looked more like a claw than a hand, outlined with black scorch marks But then it twitched back again, and the expression of icy calm settled back over Reed's face. "But I will not," he said, his voice hoarse and roughened from shouting but now forced back into a semblance of civilization. "For I... am a benevolent man, and I do not need to... slay those below me..."

He drew himself up, raising his bearded chin in the perfect picture of patriarchal dignity. "I am a benevolent man," he said again, as though by force of repetition he could make true such a foul and palpable lie. "So I will forgive your sins. I will spare you, that you might see the coming of the end."

Fei Wong Reed turned and walked away, and his hold on Kurogane dissolved as he did. He did not even fear to turn his back to Kurogane, and why should he? He was weaponless, alone, and hopeless.

Fai...

The ice was slowly melting in the chilly air, the frost running and dripping down in a spreading puddle along the ground. Along with it went the delicate beauty of frost; nothing about Fai was perfect or untouched any more. The terrible cracks spread and gaped as the body thawed, giving way dark ugly rents in the flesh that did not even - yet - bleed. Patches of mottled black began to appear underneath Fai's skin, shifting as his body did as the frozen limbs stiffened and twitched. Kurogane clutched Fai's body to him, transfixed and horrified, unable to let go or turn his gaze away even as he watched his lover disintegrate in front of his very eyes.

And yet -

Even as Kurogane watched, the horrific gaping wounds retracted, slowly sealing themselves even as blood began to ooze from their lips. Kurogane's breath stopped, his eyes flying wide as his hands clutched at Fai's shoulder and hip. Was Fai -

His body was healing itself. Even now, his demonic nature tried to repair the damage that should have killed him outright. Even with his heart and lungs frozen and blood congealed, Fai's body yet lived and struggled to put itself to rights.

But not fast enough. Fai's flesh was thawing ever more rapidly now, a great spreading dark pool of melted frost and dark blood underneath him, and even more wounds inflicted by the freeze began to appear on his body. The bruised, dead patches of flesh darkened even further and spread, necrotic growth spreading along his veins and tissues and threatening to engulf him. There was too much damage, too many wounds even for his supernatural nature to overcome.

No. No, he couldn't lose Fai now, not after all this, not when he'd seen a moment of hope at the end of this darkest tunnel -

He heard Fai's voice as if from far away, miles and years distant. It seems there are benefits to my state, he'd said, in a sunny spring clearing when he'd first become a vampire. As soon as I provided my body with the proper fuel, it was able to heal itself.

"Damn it, you crazy vampire," Kurogane muttered, finding his voice at last in familiar curses and insults. He lurched towards Fai's head, scrambling awkwardly to arch his body over Fai's glassy-eyed visage. One trembling hand grabbed at the wound on his side, clawing aside his filthy sticky clothes to reveal the three sluggishly bleeding wounds the guard had left in his side. Heedless of the pain he pressed the wounds open again, forcing blood to run down his side and into Fai's mouth. "Don't give up, don't give up on me now, come back, open your eyes, damn you..."

The next few minutes that followed were painful, messy and tense. First he could not get enough blood to flow, then he could not direct it into Fai's mouth. At last he gave up and used the truncated, pitiful fragment of steel that was all that was left of his father's sword to gouge a new wound on the inside of his arm, cupping his hand close to Fai's face while the blood flowed. Then he could not get Fai to swallow; the blood pooled and rapidly congealed in Fai's mouth while he shakily stroked his throat, trying to trigger the reflex. Blue-black bruises followed his touch no matter how gentle he tried to be. "Come on, Fai, come on..."

But at last, just when Kurogane thought his heart could bear no more, he saw it: movement. The flicker of Fai's eyes, the convulsive movement of his throat. Kurogane held his breath, lightheaded and painfully dizzy, as Fai hitched and gasped and swallowed, coughed and choked and swallowed again. As his eyes closed, then opened again with cold tears of melting frost running down along the outside of his temples, and this time they shifted and squinted in focus. "Ku -" Fai said, then coughed again, his body twitching convulsively against the floor.

"Shut up and drink," Kurogane hissed, and squeezed another handful of blood into Fai's mouth. This was going to leave him unfit to fight at this rate, but it was necessary; Fai's body was healing up faster than ever as he finished thawing, but there was still a catastrophic amount of damage done.

Finally Fai was able to move again, stiffly and shakily at first, but he pushed himself up on one stiff arm and clumsily reached the other hand to hold onto Kurogane's wrist as he drank. Kurogane watched, fascinated, as long ugly weals broke open along Fai's skin, then chased themselves closed again. When no more new wounds broke out with every minute shift, he gathered Fai into his arms to try to share body heat, chafing his skin and rubbing his arms and legs to try to bring warmth back into them.

At last Fai gulped the last drop of blood, and pushed Kurogane's bleeding wrist away from him with a gasp. "That's enough," he rasped. "We've got to get going."

"You've got to be kidding me," Kurogane hissed. "Lie still, you crazy mage, you almost died -"

"I'm fine," Fai gasped, and he rolled over onto his hands and knees, blinking blurrily as he crouched there. "Though that... wasn't fun. It would have killed anyone but a vampire; it almost killed me. But we don't have time to sit around here, Kuro-chan; Fei Wong Reed is getting away, and if he finds Sakura before we do -"

"What are you going to do even if you catch up with him?" Kurogane objected strenuously. "I don't even have my sword, and you look like death on two legs. What hope do we have?"

Fai shook his head and made his feet, staggering a little as he did. Already his movement was becoming easier, more fluid, though it was still a far cry from his usual grace. His voice was still hoarse and breathless, but there was no surrender in it. "I don't know, Kuro-sama," he said. "But we've got to try. It's all or nothing now."

Sakura's hands were going numb, clinging to the gouges and ridges in the rock face. She pressed her face against the crook of her elbow, hiding her eyes from the violent churn of light behind her. Her hands weren't all that was numb; she'd hit her leg on a rock as she fell, and her leg was numb below the knee and throbbing fire above it. She was afraid something was wrong with her knee, but she couldn't get enough room to look to find out.

The cave-in that had destroyed the floor above had violently reshaped the crucible chamber, as well. Cracks and gashes marred the previously smooth curving stone of the walls, sifting down dust and occasional rattling landslides of gravel and larger rocks. The walkway that had extended all around the room had smashed and crumbled nearly to oblivion; only a tiny stone ledge, barely more than a lip, ran along the edge of the great yawning pit below to reach the dark round mouths of the tunnel ahead.

Sakura had no idea how, in the scrambling sliding free-fall of space and falling rocks, she'd managed to hit the broken ledge with a jolt and seize hold of a fragment of rock with her now scraped and bleeding fingernails. She'd been lucky; she'd been the only one. The rest, the handmaids and rocks and fragments of ceiling all, had fallen screaming into the pit behind her and been silenced there.

She'd seen only glimpses of it, little flashes of frozen horrified sight over her shoulder. Hinata, her pale eyes staring wide and her mouth open in a wail, had struck the golden surface and vanished into glowing vapor in less time than it had taken her to scream. The rocks that had pelted down in a rain behind her lasted a little longer; they sat as if on a pool of molten rock, hissing and bubbling, until their hard dark outlines too dissolved into light. Sakura alone had survived, hanging on with her aching arms and numbed hands to the edge of broken stone a hundred feet above the vortex of boiling light.

She had to get to more solid ground. Carefully, making each moment with excruciating slowness, Sakura shifted her weight forward and slid her foot along the stone. She felt like she was teetering backwards over the precipice no matter how firmly she clung to her handholds, but she couldn't just sit there and wait; sooner or later her grip would give way, or the walls would shake again and she'd fall. She had to move, had to get to safety, for the mountain was still coming down around her head.

Her first step was good; Sakura shifted carefully along the walls, prying one hand loose from its grip and lunging spasmodically forward to find a new handhold. Now she was plastered spread-eagle against the wall, trying the best that she could to keep her close to the rock face so that she would not fall. Her other leg would not move to her command; she had to drag it along like a dead weight to the safety of the wider ledge, before at last she could lean forward and move her other hand.

Like that, moving one limb cautiously at a time, Sakura pulled herself along the wall towards the wide part of the broken walkway. Once she was on a ledge as wide as her shoulders she began to relax slightly, heaving great breaths of air into her lungs as she began to shake in reaction. Water sprang to her eyes, smearing the maelstrom around her into one indistinguishable blur of yellow light, and when Sakura reached up to wipe them clumsily away it left long wet streaks of red and brown along her hand and arm.

Deep shakes were beginning to grip her now, starting in the pit of her stomach and spreading in waves out along her arms and legs. Over and over again she saw it, replayed the moment where Hinata's horrified expression dissolved into nothing. Her stomach heaved with violent nausea and she arched onto her hands and needs, retching helplessly onto the stone. But you were supposed to feel better after throwing up, were supposed to feel a relief and she didn't; she still felt sick as though she could keep vomiting until all her stomach and lungs and heart came out of her and she would still feel sick inside.

Dead. They were dead, they had dissolved into boiling light in front of her very eyes and the worst of it was that she couldn't even remember all of their names.

She hadn't known any of them that well. They had been background noise to her, guards and attendants like she'd been surrounded with all her life, to be taken for granted as part of the landscape; and yet they hadn't been the familiar men and women who'd been in her life since childhood. They'd devoted their lives to her and she hadn't gotten to know them, she hadn't even bothered to learn their names, and now they were dead dead dead and it wasn't right that she should feel worse about her hurting leg than about the fact that six women had just died before her eyes.

It was that more than anything, guilt rather than grief, that finally managed to squeeze a few hot stinging tears from her eyes. She gulped back bile and gasped for breath, the shakes increasing in potency until the very air was squeezed from her lungs. A fuzzy white numbness swam back and forth over her vision, and she was terribly cold.

Had the shaking of the earth stopped? She couldn't feel it, but perhaps she was just too deep under the earth. Was the battle finished, had Fei Wong Reed been defeated? She couldn't just sit here and weep all day; she had to get up, stand on her feet and move. If she couldn't find Fei Wong Reed's enemies, she had to at least remove herself from the great stone citadel so that none of the Heralds could find her and force her back into their care. She would, she would... she would think of a better plan later.

Sakura took a deep breath, tight iron bands spasming around her chest as she forced it to expand, and pushed herself shakily upright again. Her leg screamed in white agony as she tried to step on it, but for all that it was numb between the ground and her knee it did take her weight, and that meant it couldn't be broken. Could it?

She took a limping step towards the entrance of the tunnel, then froze up when movement stirred in the darkness beyond. Flickers of green-yellow light, the smell of ozone - and that heavy, deliberate footfall all told her who was there before his face came forward into the light. Oh, no. Please, I hoped I wouldn't have to...

"Princess Sakura." He filled the whole tunnel, the edges of his voluminous cloak flickering and melting in the coruscating darkness; only his head showed clearly in the gold-white light. "You live. Thank the White God that you are safe."

"She had nothing to do with it," Sakura said automatically. She remembered in a rush what it had been like to be there with the God, looking into that endless well of light and warmth and goodness. For a moment there was nothing she wanted more than to be back there, where the God's power would enfold her and blot away all her pain and anguish with the sure warmth of a mother's touch, a touch Sakura could never remember knowing. But that was something she knew now she could never do. "She's still far away, she wouldn't be able to help me even if she knew I was in trouble at all."

Fei Wong Reed stiffened as though turned to stone, and he drew himself up slowly to his full height as triumph gleamed across his face. "So you have found her," he said. "As my diviners predicted, today was the day that our purpose is fulfilled at last. We must make haste, girl. The great throne is destroyed, but I have other, lesser scrying chambers that can be used, now that you know the way. You shall show me, and I shall open the gateway between worlds -"

"No," Sakura said. "You won't. I won't."

He had never been smiling to begin with, but the pleased expression slid off his face as he stiffened. "The danger is past," he said, an edge creeping into his voice. "I have dispatched that fool charlatan who had the temerity to invade my home; he is no more than dust on the floor of the hallway now. We will begin the ceremony at once, before anything else interrupts."

"I won't help you," Sakura repeated. "I know who you are now, and I know what you're trying to do, and I'll never help you again."

"Sakura," Fei Wong Reed said, and the edge in his voice had grown more dangerous, straining at the seams with some lurking menace. He took a step forward, hand outstretched, and Sakura took a step back. "My patience grows short. I have coddled your insecurities and your childish displays of temper for long enough. Now come with me, girl!"

Sakura searched inside herself for anger, a hot fury that she could use to give herself courage. She found none - all she felt was cold and numb. But in that stillness there was a kind of freedom she'd never felt before, freedom from both anger and fear, a calmness as solid and unbreakable as stone. "No," she said.

"You stupid, useless little brat!" Fei Wong Reed exploded. The carved stone facade of his expression seemed to crack, fury blazing through from underneath like the red heat and light of molten lava. "Do you understand the tiniest part of what you are dealing with here? I have weathered the endless ages of this world, I have bent and reshaped continents to my will, I have scoured the earth and sky for power, I have toppled kingdoms and rained fire down upon empires, I have ripped the souls screaming from the countless bodies of men, all in preparation for this day! I... will... not come so far, only to be stymied in the very hour of my triumph by the weak quaverings of a simple, simpering, stupid little wreck of achild!"

Sakura took another step back, trembling from head to foot, but froze again as her heel brushed against the lip of the precipice. That was it - that was as far as she could go. There was nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide, and the good and obedient part of her quailed in the face of Fei Wong Reed's fury even as the rebellious part of her froze in panic for lack of any escape.

He was just getting warmed up, it seemed. "Because I am a kind man, I tried at first to cater to your simple vanities. When those failed to hold your interest, I tried reason: I thought I could make you see the truth of this corruptible world and how it needed to be corrected. But if you will not see reason, then I will try force; I can bind your spirit to your body so that you will not die throughout a thousand agonies, until you can no longer even dream of defying me, and you will do my bidding in the end all the same! Do you understand me, girl?"

Sakura didn't answer - couldn't answer, with her blood beating so hard in her ears that she couldn't even hear herself think. Here she stood at the end of things, no mother no father, no big brother, no friends, no defenders. Just her, and the end of the world.

A flash of soundless light sears the sky, a tumult of what is and what was and what will be roaring like a wave; and she sees what future he brings with him, she sees the doorway in the sky framed by a hellish light, she sees what Fei Wong Reed desires, and all that will become if she submits to him…

A rush of sliding images played before her eyes: the vision she'd seen, in the grip of the throne, of the mad Valerian queen's last moments. Careening sky and tilting ground and Fei Wong Reed's hand outstretched, dark stone flashing by... the queen's voice, crying and laughing. I will never serve you!

"Come with me, Sakura," Fei Wong Reed ordered her, holding out his implacable hand. "You will serve me willingly, or I will break your mind into a thousand pieces and you will serve me unwillingly. But one way or the other, you will serve me; you have no choice."

"Yes," Sakura said, "I do."

I will never serve you!

Her slippered feet slid over the stone as she shifted her weight. She forced one foot behind the other until her next step found nothing beneath her foot at all.

And then the air was all around her, and she was falling.

Fei Wong Reed was slow to catch on, too slow to realize what she was doing, and outrage and horrified shock were just beginning to show on his face when the edge of the dark stone ledge rushed up between them and broke their line of sight. Sakura heard laughter, and she didn't know whether it was the echo of the dead queen's triumph, or of her own.

I will ne -

And then the world boiled away into light.

Chapter Text

Halfway down the mountain, shepherding the last of the Ruval refugees from the encroaching ice and the shadowy demons that prowled its edges, Yukito suddenly stumbled and cried out, clapping both hands over his eyes as he swayed on his feet.

"Yukito, what is it?" cried Shougo, the last of the Ceres wizards to remain upright and moving by Yukito's side in the final flight.

"The light," Yukito gasped, eyes squeezed closed behind his glasses. "The door in the sky, that was blocking all our visions. It's gone. It cannot come to pass, now - it's gone."

Shougo took hold of Yukito, glancing about them with some bewilderment. "But that's a good thing, isn't it?" he asked anxiously.

Yukito shook his head, robbed speechless as the images burst upon his altered eyesight. With the veil drawn back at last, visions of the future unrolled before him - visions of fire and blackness, rending earth and roaring oceans crashing into an endless void. Destruction on a catastrophic scale, death - not only the death of a few humans, a few mere creatures, but the death of the world itself.

"Yukito," Shougo beseeched him, looking behind them at the creeping wall of ice that ground deep trenches in the earth beneath it - and the shadows that crept out of those deep rents in the earth. "We cannot stop here, this is no place to rest. Come, just a little bit further, and we can find refuge -"

How could Yukito explain without sounding mad, how could he hope to convey the scale of destruction that was wrought upon them? There would be no refuge, here or anywhere, if these terrible visions came to pass. And there was nothing they could do - not he, nor Shougo, nor any of the Wizards whose wills and powers yet remained to them - to turn them aside.

Borne upon a litter by four imperial servants in the hasty breakneck scramble to evacuate Shirasagi castle for higher and more stable ground, Tomoyo had not wakened from her swoon since their desperate attack on the dark warlock had failed.

Nor did she awaken now, but uncaring of the bumps and jolts as the servants moved her litter over the rough rocky ground, tears began to track down the Tsukuyomi's somnolent face.

And beneath them, though as yet unnoticed in the fury of the unrelenting storm, the earth began to tremble.

Past the body, through the door the dark warrior woman had guarded, a hallway and a short flight of stairs dead-ended in a cavernous gulf. Syaoran spared it barely a glance; it was a sheer drop into the distance below, there was nowhere in that cavern for Sakura to be hidden from him. So where was she?

A cross-corridor ran left and right, curving around out of sight in each direction. Syaoran dithered for a moment between them, unsure which direction to take. Xing Hua had been guarding this door; therefore the way to Sakura must lie behind it. But which way should he go?

For a moment he wished that he still had the ribbon to guide him, the magical link which had led him all the way from the castle at Ceres to here. For weeks it had been his faithful companion, ever guiding his steps when he faltered towards Princess Sakura.

But no, he'd been wrong, the whole time it was a sinister spell cast by the warlock Fei Wong Reed himself. He'd been no more than a dupe. There had never been any red ribbon, no mystical connection between Sakura and himself. And now, when he needed more than ever a direction to follow, he saw nothing.

Don't trust your eyes, a voice whispered to him encouragingly; it sounded like Sensei. Follow your heart.

After a moment with his eyes squeezed shut, Syaoran spun to the right and dashed off down the corridor. Right or wrong, he couldn't afford to hesitate a moment longer.

The hallway led along a series of twisting paths, then ended in an imposing-looking door. Syaoran threw it open to reveal a dark, curving spiral stairwell beyond, and hurtled heedlessly along the path it revealed. The distance flew by underneath his feet, long strides eating up the ground as fast as he could push himself, yet at the same time distance itself seemed to stretch out in front of him impossibly.

He did not know how long it had been before he burst out of the dark descending tunnel into a huge underground cavern. The searing light from below made his eyes water and squint, and it took a long moment of searching before the picture resolved.

Sakura - his heart leapt into his throat at the sight of her, lovely, wonderful Sakura! - stood on a ledge a short way away and above him, its stone formation jagged and half-cracked from some impact. The eerie golden glow that came from beneath illuminated her in stark relief - throwing every hair into sharp visibility, reflecting and refracting off her pale perfect skin and flowing white gown - and Syaoran could not tear his eyes away to look down to see where that light came from.

Behind Sakura, facing her across the short distance of the ledge - Syaoran's teeth clenched, he'd know that solemn visage anywhere even though he'd only seen it once. It was a face that would burn itself into his nightmares.

"Sakura!" Syaoran shouted. His voice was thin and reedy in the cavern air, whipped away unheard. She didn't turn around or react; she hadn't heard him. Neither did Fei Wong Reed, but that seemed a poor consolation. He had to reach her, he had to let her know he was here, that she was not alone. He tried again. "Sakura!"

Coming from below them in the cavern was a muted rumble, a susurration like the noise of a storm or a crowd. It faded into the background of the mind, but it wasn't until he tried to make himself heard over it that Syaoran realized just how loud it was. He spared a glance downwards, away from the tableau of Sakura and Fei Wong Reed - and froze in horror.

The glow coming from below was not from lamps or torches, but from the very surface of what appeared to be a slick, heaving ocean of unnatural light. It reminded Syaoran of nothing so much as standing in the caldera of a volcano - except, of course, that if they were this close to so much molten rock, no mere balustrade or ledge would keep them from being roasted like a chicken in its very proximity. Seized by a new fear for Sakura, Syaoran dragged his gaze upwards, gathering his voice to shout again -

Just in time to see Sakura step backwards off the ledge into nothing.

"Sakuraaaaaa!" The useless cry tore itself from his lips, as Syaoran surged forward to slam against the stone railing and reach out his hand across the empty space - useless, fruitless, she was much too far away for him to reach. Her limbs fluttered as she fell through the space between them, and she did not even open her eyes or turn her head towards him.

And then her tumbling body reached the surface of the light below, and flared for one brief moment before disappearing into nothingness.

Syaoran was screaming, he could feel his throat shredding raw as his knees cracked painfully against the stone, but he could not hear himself over the bellow of molten fury that filled the cavern. It was a howl of rage and frustration and hatred that had been centuries in the making, now loosed from its confines to shake the very walls and foundations of this mountain.

"No!" Fei Wong Reed roared, his face twisted into a paroxysm of thwarted rage. "This cannot be! Not now, not after so long - not after I have come so far! To have come so close, to have her within my grasp at last, only to have it torn away so -"

His tirade cut off abruptly, and the sudden silence that followed it was far more ominous. Fei Wong Reed stood at the edge of the stone precipice, the light from below illuminating his dark robes and the horns of his beard or his hair, casting his face in a lurid glow. Only his eyes glittered with a light of their own, cold as the winds that howled on the frozen tops of mountains. Those eyes landed on Syaoran, who froze beneath their weight, but did not seem to truly see him.

"Damnation upon this world," Fei Wong Reed said, every word clearly enunciated into the quivering air. "Damnation upon the little people who crawl upon its surface, the petty kings and tyrants who think themselves lords. For untold years I have labored in their service, I have sought to bring salvation to this world and its people, only to have my great efforts spurned and thrown back in my face. I will labor no more. Let it all crack and burn, and be damned upon it."

Syaoran had heard much worse language back in Edo - he'd associated with boys of the warrior class, after all - and he'd heard all manner of inventive curses and threats over the years. Yet something about this short, precise speech made his mouth go dry and his knees go weak; Fei Wong Reed somehow didn't sound like he was speaking in metaphors…

Fei Wong Reed raised his arms above his head, and the crucible below him roared to new uneasy life in response to the gesture. Swirls of light heaved and tossed, straining upwards to meet his hands; a dull orange glow began to grow around the warlock, forming sigils and symbols in the air that hurt Syaoran's eyes to look at.

This was bad. This was really bad; Syaoran didn't need any magical training to tell him that, not with the way the stone walls writhed in agony in response to the first few symbols. He had to do something, he knew, he had to find some way to stop Fei Wong Reed from casting his terrible magics - but he wasn't sure what he could do when the warlock was up there and he was down here, with no way to bridge the gap and no weapon except a sword, which for all its versatility was not a weapon for long range.

Before he could work himself up to some course of action, however foolish or suicidal, a motion from overhead caught his eye. He looked up to see a blur of white and blue and black, which resolved itself into his teacher and the wizard Fai dropping rapidly down from overhead. Half-floating, half-falling, they seemed to be descending on some glowing blue strands that looked not-quite-real in the dimness, but it held their weight well enough. The two of them landed with solid crunches on the rock on either side of Syaoran.

"Fai-san -" Syaoran looked up at the pale man, feeling grief rush through him all over again. He remembered now that this was the man that Sakura had looked up to as an older brother. "Sakura - she's dead, he killed -"

"I know," Fai interrupted him. Syaoran wanted to scream at him for how calm his voice sounded, at least until he looked close enough to see the glimmer of tear tracks at the corner of the wizard's eyes. "I felt her presence vanish."

"She fell," Syaoran blurted out. "She stepped off the edge. I couldn't catch her, I couldn't stop her. I called out to her, but she didn't hear -"

"It's not your fault," Kurogane said, his voice gruff but gentle. "But now's not the time to grieve. We've got to deal with this."

Syaoran nodded, words clogging in his throat as tears poured down his cheeks. He swiped them away with a rough sleeve, then took a deep and steadying breath. "Sakura gave her life for this world," he said in a wavering voice. "I won't let her sacrifice be in vain."

"That's the spirit, kid," Kurogane said with a small, sharp, approving smile. It faded as he looked over at his partner, tense and strained. "So. What are we gonna do?"

Fai stood up straight, the furious air currents of the cavern whipping his hair around his face. His blue eye was intent upon their foe, and he spread his hands out in front of him as though testing the temperature. "He's dropped his shield," he said. "Either he can't maintain it and this spell at the same time, or he no longer cares."

"That's good, right?" Syaoran said. "If the shield's gone, we can just take him out the normal way, right?"

"We'll have to get to him first, and with all the volatile magic he's putting out, that won't be as easy as it sounds," Fai said. "I'll do my best to create a safe path for you, but that's the most I can do. I have to concentrate on slowing down the spell he's channeling before it tears the planet apart."

Syaoran stared at Fai in slowly growing horror. He didn't seem to be joking, or exaggerating at all. "He can do that?" he said in a sick tone. "He can't do that, can he?"

"Be ready to strike fast," Fai said, and began to whisper words of power as blue-white magic stirred and flickered between his palms.

"Give me that," Kurogane muttered, and before Syaoran could object his master had pulled the still-bloodied sword out of his hands and dropped into his stance. The shorter blade looked almost ludicrous against Kurogane's height, but it was better than the half-melted sword - now no longer than a dagger, with a comically oversized hilt - that Kurogane pushed into Syaoran's hand in exchange. "I'll keep him busy. You try to get behind him and find a place to stick that."

Fai's magic rose. Blue clashed with orange as the two competing powers raged in the stone chamber. Even with his insensitivity to arcane matters, Syaoran could see that the orange was the stronger, seething in ugly clouds against the walls and pushing against the blue-white arms fit to drown them. Still the wizard of Ceres persisted, and an ethereal bridge sprang into being across the deadly span, offering a path of attack between themselves and Fei Wong Reed.

Syaoran hung back a moment more, wary and dismayed at trusting his weight to such a thing, but Kurogane had no such compunctions; with a howling war-cry he leapt across the bridge and rushed towards his enemy, weapon raised. Syaoran trailed in his wake, wondering if he was going to be any use at all, as injured and disarmed as he was.

It should have been a simple matter, now that Fei Wong Reed had dropped his shield, to close with him and dispatch him with a blade. But the air around him was heavy and thick with simmering magics, which slowed their movements and dulled the swing of a blade. Kurogane attacked the warlock head-on, only to be flung back with a violent thrust of his black-clad arms; Kurogane's sword-swing left a rent in his robe and a gash in his arm, but Syaoran couldn't tell if it was even bleeding or not.

The ominous red-orange light did not disperse; the cavern walls were faintly rumbling, now, and Syaoran had no idea how long they had before the whole place dropped on their heads. Would that be enough to stop Fei Wong Reed? Syaoran spared a glance behind him and saw Fai, crouched on the platform opposite with his head bowed over blue light gathered in his arms. Whatever he was doing, he'd be no help to them in this tangled melee.

Syaoran thrust forward, seeking an opening for the knife - but then a powerful wave of invisible force knocked him backwards. He saw Kurogane, on the other side from him, bracing himself against the stone - but he had not the footing, and the ripping winds continued to force him backwards until he was teetering on the very lip of the ledge, not far from where Sakura herself had fallen.

Sakura… A spike of pain shot through Syaoran's heart, worse than the agony from his throbbing shoulder. Was it even worth saving the world, if she was not in it? No. Don't think like that. Sakura had given her life to protect this world; it was up to him to make sure that her sacrifice wasn't in vain.

Kurogane forced his way forward, one step at a time, sword outstretched with a monumental effort. Syaoran saw his teacher's teeth clenched in a tight grimace, saw the muscles of his arms and legs shaking with the effort of pushing back against that impossible force. In one swift movement, Kurogane stabbed the sword forward into Fei Wong Reed's chest, and -

And nothing happened. He might as well have thrust his blade into a wooden stump. There was no blood, no death-cry, and Fei Wong Reed continued to move with ease, apparently no more harmed than if they'd stuck him with a pin. A cry of despair welled in Syaoran's throat; what did they have to do to kill him?

The warlock had no weapon, but perhaps he needed none, for as he raised his arms the roaring of terrible magics redoubled in Syaoran's ear. A hurricane formed with Fei Wong Reed in its eye, and invisible projectiles screamed and spun in its winds. Something unseen clouted Syaoran on the back of the head, and he fell to his hands and knees on the edge of the rock, barely clinging to the face in time not to be swept over.

That was why, of all the people locked in mortal struggle in this cavern, Syaoran was the only one looking in the right direction when a glittering figure appeared from the blinding morass below.

She rose from the crucible on wings of golden light, arcing high and bright above her. Her body was a small, dark outline against the brilliant aura, but the same white-golden light suffused her features and stirred strands of her hair to float about her. Her eyes were flashing pools of white, and tear-streaks of light ran down her cheeks.

"Sakura?" Syaoran whispered uncertainly.

If she heard or saw him at all, she didn't react; all her furious attention was focused on the stone ledge above him, where the dark warlock still channeled his world-breaking magic. "Fei Wong Reed!" Sakura called out, her voice magnified a hundredfold from its normal soft and demure tenor. Behind it hummed a multitude of voices, a choir of song, a screaming riot, all united for this moment to one purpose.

Fei Wong Reed turned to look at her, as slow and lumbering as a great beast woken from sleep. Were his movements really that slow and clumsy, or was Syaoran viewing everything through time-distorted perspective? Around the edges of the chambers, even the rocks that had shaken loose from the walls had ceased to fall.

As Fei Wong Reed took in the sight of Sakura, brilliant and ascendant, the dark saturnine scowl that was the only expression Syaoran had ever seen on his face evaporated to be replaced by a look of stunned shock.

"My… God," he whispered, and his voice sounded strangely hopeful - almost welcoming.

"You want power?" Sakura demanded, white tears of light streaking down her face and sparking off into nothingness."Then you shall have power!"

She raised one hand and extended it towards Fei Wong Reed, crackling and alive with power. A brilliant spark flared to life in the palm of her hand, then leapt across the distance to Fei Wong Reed in the blink of an eye. Fei Wong Reed never had the chance to lift a hand or say a word to defend himself, even if he had shown the inclination. Even if there had been any spell in the world that could have saved him.

The light that engulfed Fei Wong Reed filled the whole chamber, so brilliant as to be blinding; it left blue-green spots dancing across Syaoran's vision, yet he could not look away. First Fei Wong Reed was surrounded by the light, all shadows banished as for one brief moment he looked small and unreal. In the next moment the light grew until it shonethrough him, the dark shadow of his bones playing through clothes and skin and muscle that shredded away. He opened his mouth, but there was no time to scream before his voice, too, was immolated along with the rest.

The light grew brighter yet, and Syaoran couldn't help it; his eyes flinched closed in sheer self-protective reflex. Even behind his closed lids it flared blood-red, and for a moment he feared it would consume them all as it just had Fei Wong Reed.

But then it flickered and went out, and when Syaoran at last dared to open his eyes again, there was nothing left where Fei Wong Reed had been standing at all. Barely even a smear of ash.

The glaring silhouette faded away, and for a moment the cavern looked dim and dreamlike by comparison, lit from beneath by the maelstrom of magic.

Then the light itself flickered - died - left them for a moment plunged into a blackness so absolute Syaoran wasn't sure if the world really had ended -

And then exploded, erupting from the ground beneath their feet to the ceiling lost out of sight high above. A roaring noise like high tide interspersed with the rumbling noise of grating and grinding stone, and then the stone-arched roof cracked and gave way under the relentless pressure. For the first time since the shaping of this world, daylight poured in from the pale sky overhead to illuminate the cavern under the earth.

Syaoran slumped back against the stone wall, too dizzy and shaken to find his feet, and watched a hundred thousand souls scream in triumph as they thundered into the sky above.

Kurogane and Fai had been on opposite points of the stone ledge circling the caldera. As soon as it became obvious that Sakura was going to land, and where, they'd both made a break for her from both directions at once.

Fai reached Sakura first, and Kurogane had to allow that was fair. The mage's face lit from within by an ecstatic glow that Kurogane hadn't seen since that awful moment in the room up above, when Fai had told him that Sakura's magical signature had snuffed out. It was back now and with a vengeance, as Fai stepped forward and stretched a hand towards his beloved little sister whom he'd thought lost forever.

"Sakura!" Fai exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear despite the anxiety that still hovered tight about his eyes. "My little flower-princess, I'm so glad you're safe! Are you all right? What happened to you, did you -"

Sakura turned to face her older brother, and although the blinding glow had lessened somewhat - Kurogane could see her eyes and face underneath it now - golden light still streamed off her like water sluicing off a swimmer emerging from the water. "Oh - yes," she said, in the tone of someone who had just been reminded of something they'd absentmindedly forgot. She reached up one hand and casually touched it to Fai's, where his arms outstretched towards her.

A white spark jumped from her skin to his, burrowing into his flesh and glowing within his hand for a moment before it disappeared. It looked so much like the force that had just burned Fei Wong Reed from within, but surely it couldn't be - Fai was Sakura's brother and she loved him, she would never bring him harm -

A belief that was sorely tested as Fai dropped to the ground, mouth and eye stretched wide in an expression of total shock. No sound passed his lips except for a hiss of air, but tiny twitches in his arms and legs quickly escalated into full-on convulsions. Kurogane lunged forward, momentarily bypassing Sakura in order to grab his lover's arm and pull him halfway across his lap, searching for some injury or cause for this reaction.

Finding none, he turned on Sakura and demanded, "What did you do to him?"

It wasn't the words he'd had planned for this reunion, if he ever thought he'd have the good luck to see Sakura alive again. He liked Princess Sakura, he really did; she was tough and smart and kinder than almost anyone he'd known. But that was before she'd been kidnapped by an evil warlock for weeks on end, vanished out of known civilization and dipped in strange wild magics and come back… different.

Sakura replied as though the answer should be obvious. "I made him better."

"The hell you say!" Kurogane's grip shifted on Fai's shoulders as the mage tried to curl in on himself, muscles twitching and jerking as he shook without a sound. "He doesn't look better, he looks like you just half killed him!"

"The structure of his body is changing," Sakura explained. Her voice had a distant, faraway sound, as though she were only half attending - but the unnatural reverberation was slowly fading out of it, leaving only her sweet voice once more. "It's only natural that it would be painful."

And that… didn't really explain anything, but it opened up the field of possibilities in a new and disturbing way, enough that Kurogane swallowed the verbal lash that had jumped to his lips and seriously considered his next words.

"Princess, what's happening?" he said, his voice even and nearly calm.

She turned to face him, and he could see the shape of the iris and pupil of her eyes, now, under the hazy golden glow. Could almost, faintly, see the green color of the princess' real eyes. "They're all leaving," she said, and one faintly-glowing arm spread out to encompass the open space. Behind her, the thunderous cascade of voices and shapes half-dissolved into light continued to pour into the sky. "They wanted to be free for so long, and now that Fei Wong Reed is gone, they can be. They agreed to lend me their power for just a little while, so that I could take care of him, and take care of everything else too."

Everything else? Kurogane wondered. That was such an open-ended statement, he wasn't sure what to make of it. Just how much of Fei Wong Reed's own grand delusions could be caught up in that everything else?

"I'm not sure I'm getting it right, but I'm trying my best…" Sakura trailed off, frowning absently into space with her head cocked to one side as though listening to some unheard voice. "But the more of them go, the less power there is. That's why I had to fix Fai-niisan now, before it all went away."

In his lap Fai uncurled a bit with a gasp, pulling his hands away from his face. He opened his eye, and the gaze that stared out unseeing over the darkness of the cavern was bleary and unfocused and blue.

The puzzle pieces clicked, and Kurogane felt a wave of dizzying emotion sweep over him; half awed gratitude at what Sakura had done for Fai, what Fai and all his fellow mages had long since despaired of as impossible. Cleansing him of the demonic magic that had remade him in the image of the monster, of the geas that had chained him to Kurogane's side with the threat of life and death. At the same time he felt a strange echo of loss and resentment that came with the understanding of what he and Fai would no longer have to share, when the blood bond between them was gone. And above all a surge of anger; sister or no, what right had Sakura to go meddling with Fai's body without asking him first?Who died and made her God?

Oh. Fei Wong Reed. Right.

"They talked to me before," Sakura said abruptly, and Kurogane immediately refocused his attention on her - on this little slip of a girl who casually, if temporarily, wielded enough power to reshape continents. "When I was searching between the worlds, I heard their voices. They called me down here, before I really understood what was happening. And when I fell, they were able to tell me what they needed. But I almost forgot - they wanted to talk to you, too."

"Who did?" Kurogane demanded, tensing up at the prospect of some new foe to fight.

"They do," Sakura nodded to the side, reaching up into the stream of light as if to pluck a hanging cord. A double swirl of ether detached from the flow to wind about her hand and arm, glowing in perfect tandem with the light still filtering her eyes, and Sakura smiled and tilted her head as if listening.

Then the strands of light separated from each other and from her hand, spiraling down towards the stone floor like fluttering streamers. The air around them shifted and condensed, dancing with motes of light like dust caught in a sunbeam, into the form of two people.

Kurogane's mind ground to a halt; for a few minutes he could not even remember to be worried for Fai, let alone wary of Sakura or anything else.

For the faces smiling at him from bodies made of shifting light and shadow belonged to his parents.

"Hahaue?" Kurogane breathed, his voice gone suddenly high and small. "Chichiue? Is it… really you?"

"The one and only, kiddo," his father's shade said. Beaming at him just the way that Kurogane remembered - only the angle of view had changed. His father held his mother's shoulders in the circle of his arm, pulling her comfortably against his broad chest - and she was smiling too, his hand clasped in hers.

"How?" Kurogane forced the word from his lips, powered by a half-laugh, half-sob. "You… were… but the demons destroy souls, they can never be reborn, they -"

"Trapped," his mother corrected him gently, "but not destroyed. He needed us, after all, to provide power for his great schemes. But trapped no longer."

She glanced up at the stream of joyously raucous departing souls, and her ghostly smile took on a sad tinge. "The confinement did take its toll, on some," she said. "Many have forgotten… what memories did, and did not, once belong to them. We were luckier than most."

"Lucky how?" Kurogane demanded, glaring all the more fiercely to try to burn through the tears that wavered threateningly in his eyes.

His father gave a little laugh, and raised his wife's hand high enough to brush the back of it with his chin, a fond gesture familiar enough to stop Kurogane's heart. "Your mother is the best miko in three provinces, you know," he said. "Maybe her wards couldn't keep my soul in my body - really, just as well, considering what else happened to that body once I wasn't in it any more - but they protected me afterwards, kept me sane and my memories whole. And kept us together."

Kurogane's eyes widened with horror as he realized for the first time what had become of his mother's soul at Fei Wong Reed's hands. "Hahaue, you too? I never knew - you weren't killed by a demon, I never dreamed -"

"He sought out the souls of many a strong miko or wizard, for those souls had the most power," his mother explained. A slight smile quirked up one side of her mouth, the mysterious expression she'd so often worn. "I should have been flattered, I suppose, that he regarded my work so highly that he came to harvest me in person."

Anguish roiled through him; for years he'd worked to come to terms with the bloody reality of his father's death, knowing that his soul was stricken from the cycle of reincarnation forever - yet he'd always thought that his mother, at least, would know peace. How could he have been so naïve, so blind - that his mother's spirit was imprisoned in this terrible place for years, with him none the wiser?

"Don't start feeling sorry for yourself now, kiddo!" his father advised him sternly, hugging his wife closer to his side. "It's all over now. We held out hope that someone would be able to break the seals and put a stop to Fei Wong Reed's machinations - although we never dreamed it would be you."

"I sensed you were nearby, Youou." His mother looked at him with soft eyes, and even in their ghostly reflection he could see the love that had always filled them. "We could not depart this world without seeing you one more time, to see the man that you had grown into, and to say goodbye."

Involuntarily protests sprung to his lips - don't go. I missed you. Please don't leave. I only just found you again. - but Kurogane stifled them to silence. They must have read the silent cry in his eyes, though, because the insubstantial pair took a step closer to him, concern and love in their eyes. His mother reached out and trailed one hand along the side of his face; the touch was neither warm nor cold, but sparked along his skin like lightning.

"We don't wish to leave you, dear one," his mother whispered tenderly, "but we have delayed on this world too long as it is. We must move on, but you have a life here of your own - and a miko of your own to look after, and to tend to you in turn." She nodded to Fai, still shuddering with recovery and still wrapped in Kurogane's arms.

"You've grown up," his father said gruffly, and tousled Kurogane's hair with ghost-hands that nonetheless managed to make a mess of the black strands. "I swear you're taller than I was. Not to mention stronger. This demon-hunting business has been good for you, but maybe it's time to consider a safer occupation, hey? Especially now that it looks like we're going to be thin on demons."

"What do you mean?" Kurogane demanded, but his father only gave him a mysterious smile that seemed the echo of his wife's.

"You'll see." They pulled back from him, and their outlines seemed to waver and stream away upwards into nothingness. "Goodbye, Youou. When your lover wakes, give him our regards. He was never unwanted, no matter what he thought."

Don't make me say goodbye, don't make me say it… "Take care of yourselves," Kurogane finally managed to choke out, the closest he could come to admitting it.

"We will," his mother promised, and her smile blurred and ran together with the rest of her features. "Never forget that we love you."

"And never forget that we're proud," his father added, no more than an outline by this time.

Their images wavered and bent like a reflection in a pond disturbed by a rock, and then vanished in gold-white streams into the upwelling light.

"What did she mean by that?" Fai's voice was a weak whisper, but it served to jolt Kurogane out of his trance, straining upwards into the blinding sky as though he could still see traces of their faces there.

"Hey," he said abruptly, his voice gruff and thickened by tears he would not let fall. "Don't move around so much yet." He added a moment later, "How are you feeling?"

"Human," Fai gasped, struggling to pull himself upright. Kurogane helped him to sit up, but pressed down on his shoulders when he made to stand. "Weak. I'm not sure off the top of my head if this was how I always felt before, or if the transformation took all the strength I had, or -"

"Or maybe you're just hungry," Kurogane interrupted him. "God knows saving the world takes a lot of energy, and I don't know when you last ate real food."

"Ah." Fai eased back down into a sitting position, and Kurogane sat next to him, a steadying hand warm on his back. His expression was still troubled, his blue eye dark. "What did she mean by that? That I was, was never unwanted?"

"I saw her in there too," Sakura said unexpectedly, turning away from whatever contemplation of fate and magic had absorbed her. Her hair moved a little separate from the rest of her as she turned, floating in strands away from her head as though she were underwater. She was still glowing, albeit more faintly now. "Your mother, the queen. She tried to protect you, you know. From him."

"Protect me?" Fai's voice was half-laugh, half-sob. He raised one fisted hand to his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut. "That wasn't how it seemed at the time."

Sakura regarded him sadly, solemnly through those uncanny eyes. "She was insane even before Fei Wong Reed trapped her here," she said quietly. "I don't think she really understood what she was doing to you - and she's gone past all excuses now. But it wasn't because she didn't love you, both of you. I just wanted you to know that. It was never that she didn't love you."

Fai said nothing, his face crumpling. Kurogane put his arm around Fai's thin shoulders and hugged him forcefully, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu at the echo of his father's posture to his mother, in those exquisitely sweet and painful moments that he'd had with them. Was it a sorrow or a mercy, that Fai's own mother couldn't have visited him the same way? Either way, Kurogane would take care of him now.

The light in the cavern gradually dimmed, the hue shifting, until Kurogane realized with a blink that he was seeing by no more than plain daylight now, filtering down from the ragged hole in the ceiling far above. The glow around Sakura had faded to a faint coruscating aura, and she had gradually descended until her slippered feet were flat on the stone. Even as Kurogane looked at her, she swayed on her feet; Kurogane would have reached to support her if his arms weren't already full.

"Princess!" Syaoran was already there at her elbow, reaching out anxiously for her. "Are you all right? Say something!"

"I'm fine," Sakura gasped, and she blinked heavily even as she dipped and swayed, fighting off a wave of intense sleepiness or a slide into unconsciousness. "I'm almost there, almost…"

"Don't push yourself," he begged her, catching her gently by the arm and easing them both down against the ground. Somehow he managed to arrange it so that she was half-reclining against him, draped over his lap. "Please, don't give too much of yourself away. I couldn't bear it if anything else happened to you. You've done enough!"

"One more thing," Sakura murmured; the flickering glow seemed to rouse itself for one last effort, and she reached up one faintly pulsing white hand to touch Syaoran's injured shoulder.

Syaoran yelped, swallowing a muffled curse as he sat bolt upright as though an arrow had been shot down his spine. A moment later, the pain faded, to be replaced entirely with surprise and awe. Tentatively, he moved his arm, then rotated his shoulder with increasing confidence. "You fixed it!" he breathed out. "Princess, you didn't have to…"

"I wanted to," Sakura whispered, her eyelashes drooping across her cheeks. "I saved the very last of it for you. And besides…" She yawned once, then relaxed into a boneless slump against Syaoran's lap. "I told you… to call me… just Sakura…"

The look on Syaoran's face, as the realization dawned on him that Sakura had remembered him - despite all the time they'd been apart, all the distance and blood and chaos that had fallen between them - did more to light up the cave than the sun.

Syaoran touched Sakura's face gently, reverently, as though she were made of the finest porcelain. "Is she -" He cut himself off and swallowed hard, seeming close to tears despite the beaming smile on his face.

"Just sleeping," Fai said. He sounded half-sunk in dreams himself, huddled limp and defenseless in Kurogane's arms.

Kurogane looked around them, at the now-empty caldera and the wreckage of magic and stone strewn in pieces around them. He knew they needed to get up, get out of here, move to some more stable ground - a fall from this height would kill them even without the deadly presence of volatile magic - get everyone fed, treat the wounded, gather together enough travel gear to make a return home -

But for now, he let his head fall back against the stone wall with a thump, and vented a soft huff of laughter. But for now, it was enough to just be here, with his family. His living family, he thought - because that's what they were, the four of them together.

They were alive.

Above the desert plain, a great fountain of light shot into the sky as the freed souls screamed in joy at their release. They streamed upwards into the vast, endless blue, no more trapped under dark stone or by confining wards of magic, unbound and unfettered at last. They lingered for a time, still held in human shape and close connections by the force of old habits, before gradually their tenuous connections to the world faded and they dissipated away… elsewhere.

A wave of power rolled out from the epicenter, untainted by the whispering despair of trapped souls; it was pure and clear white, driven by the one mind behind it who had made herself, however temporarily, the avatar of their vengeance.

Now that justice had been done, she had a few minutes before the souls departed this world, a few minutes in which she held unparalleled power at her hands. She was unpracticed at wielding it, but she knew she did not have time to waste in hesitation; every second that trickled away was another one lost.

So she sent the wave outwards through the world, and everywhere it passed the chaos of Fei Wong Reed's savage destruction subsided. Clouds parted; glaciers melted; floodwaters receded; wounds mended; cracks in the earth sealed over boiling mud and scalding lava, leaving untouched earth behind.

From that earth bloomed a plethora of bounty, plants growing unnaturally fast and wild over the scarred and ravaged ground. Plants blossomed without regard to the season, fruits and grains ripening on the vine even as other trees flowered softly beside them. Through the coming weeks the harvest never wilted or rotted, the earth remaining a garden through which any could walk and pluck a meal off a branch or a stalk. Trees and rushes too grew with unnatural speed, awaiting the day when hearts and limbs were strong enough to begin the work of rebuilding.

And then the light flickered, and faded, and went out - bled away in incremental bits in each small miracle, each push of power. Slowly the clouds crept back in over the sky; ordinary clouds now, bearing ordinary rain, without the uncanny malice of dark purpose.

It was not a perfect world. There could be no such thing, not with the steady march of time and the endless restless quarrels of its peoples bringing endless strife. But it was on this evening - through the labors of love, the valor of courage, and the heartbreak of sacrifice - a better world than before.

The world settled in its orbit, peaceful under its green mantle, and kept on turning as it ever had - bearing the creatures upon it into night, then into morning.

Chapter Text

Kurogane rode up the valley towards Ruval Castle, reveling in the fine warm air that moved and swirled about him the higher he went. It was late summer, and what was a enervating greenhouse down on the plains below was up here only pleasantly warm.

A year had passed since the fall of Fei Wong Reed and the dissolution of his foul magics that had wreaked so much harm upon the world. Since then, Kurogane had many occasions to ride between his homeland and the high reaches of Ceres, but he never got tired of the view.

His horse dropped to a walk as it crested a particularly steep hill; as they reached the peak, Kurogane let it stop for a few minutes to rest as he surveyed the vista ahead of him. The road turned sharply away, winding in switchbacks down the steep slope as it dipped into the bowl that had once held the bustling castle town of Ruval - the road was still there, but now it dead-ended abruptly into the water.

The unnatural glaciers conjured by Fei Wong Reed's malice had reshaped the mountain valleys, gouging canyons and gorges here and pushing up ridges there. Sakura, in those brief moments of godlike power, had melted the glaciers - but she had not put adequate thought into where the water would go, and the valley of Ruval now sat submerged under a shimmering icy lake.

The castle still remained, though; the spur of rock on which it sat breached the lake's waters, and the pale marble stone of the castle sat as serenely as it ever had. Now, of course, it was reachable only by long, delicate bridges of white stone, unnervingly slender as they arched out from the shore to the island. They had to be held up by magic; Kurogane was sure; there was no other way that such attenuated structures could hold. The lake's surface shimmered brilliantly under the bright summer sun, flashing bright arcs of light against the pale white undersides of the bridge and against the castle's walls. The castle itself cast a bright white mirror of itself in the lake, which otherwise reflected only the endless blue of the sky above. As the wind gently moved the surface of the water, that reflection shifted and bent like clouds before the wind, and the castle was left by itself as though floating in the sky.

As Kurogane stood there, surveying the valley before him, his reverie was interrupted by the piercing cry of a hunting falcon. Kurogane squinted as he looked up, shading his eyes against the bright sunlight; he spotted a dark blurry outline in the sky, hovering on wide wing-tips and then diving towards him. There was no reason for a falcon to linger in these parts, there being no prey for it to eat - and so Kurogane's lips turned up in a smile as he held out his arm in invitation and welcome.

The white bird dived upon him, slowing its descent at the last moment with a great buffet of wings that made his horse sidle and snort; but its talons were unnaturally gentle as they closed about Kurogane's forearm. The bird shifted, mantling its weight, as Kurogane brought his arm carefully back towards the shelter of his body - and then the bird's form blurred and shifted, its outlines twisting into something else entirely.

Suddenly Kurogane held in his arms not a bird at all, but a man - and the sudden impact, followed by the imbalance of weight, was enough to pull him off the side of his saddle and topple to the grassy verge. The other man landed on top of him, forcing the air out of Kurogane's lungs with a grunt.

He opened his eyes to see the silhouette above him, blocking out the light but haloed with the light that shone through flying wisps of his pale, fine hair. His eye - his one blue eye - sparkled down at Kurogane, and he was beaming as brightly as the sun dazzling off the lake.

"Hi," Fai said softly, as inane and obvious as ever. "Miss me?"

Kurogane didn't bother to return the empty words, still never much one for saying what he could instead show. He reached up and threaded his hand through Fai's fine, silk-spun hair, and pulled his head down to meet Kurogane's in a kiss.

Since the night of Fei Wong Reed's death and the reshaping of the world, Fai had returned to the state he'd been when Kurogane had first met him - free of any magical geas or demonic tampering, a human flush with vigor and magic. Gone was the unnatural hunger that had driven him to feed on human blood. Gone too was the inhuman strength and stamina that had accompanied that bloodthirst, and so was the unspoken bond of clarity and connection that had stretched between them.

Kurogane mourned that loss, a little bit, as he remembered the searing moments of intimacy when soul and soul had touched. But on the whole, he and Fai both agreed that they were happier to be as they were - warrior and mage, instead of demon and hunter. Fai had always hated the necessity of hurting Kurogane so that he could live, and keenly felt the imbalance of debt and gratitude between them. Kurogane, for his own part, was unspeakably relieved to think that even in his absence, even should they be parted for long periods of time with no hope of seeing each other again - even without him, Fai would be all right.

Still, the rocky verge of a mountain pass was no comfortable place for a cuddle. Fai didn't mind, but of course Kurogane was the one with stones digging into his spine. He gave Fai a warning nudge. "Off," he grunted.

Fai complied, though not without an exaggerated pout. "Kuro-pon is no fun today," he said tragically. "But at least he's kind andgenerous enough to offer me a ride up to the castle!"

"Who said I would?" Kurogane countered, as he went to recapture his horse. The beast had been startled by Fai's abrupt appearance, but he was a trained horse who had been through much more uncanny things than a man materializing suddenly on his back. Still, the horse snorted and eyed Fai warily as he approached, still associating him with the sudden fright.

Fai's eye filled with large, sparkling, utterly fake tears. "Kuro-wan is so mean," he wailed. "I don't even have a horse, but Kuro-greedy won't share his! He would just leave me here, all alone to starve and die of thirst and cold, stranded. He's so cruel, callous, heartless -"

Kurogane thought that he hadn't seen Fai in such a good mood in quite some time; his outrageous dramatics came out of a happy effusiveness that bubbled up and over around him. It made him feel good to see such happiness, even if Fai's little pantomime was annoying the crap out of him. "The castle is just over there," he pointed out. "You can fly there in less than an hour."

"But I just flew in all the way from Clow, and my arms are tired," Fai sniffled.

"Shapeshift yourself into something else, then," Kurogane suggested practically. "Or magic yourself up a horse. In fact, why not just cut out the middleman and turn yourself into a horse?"

Fai's tears vanished as a wide grin spread across his face. "Ooh, that's the best idea yet," he purred. "Then Kuro-tan could ride me the rest of the way." He waggled his eyebrows outrageously.

Kurogane couldn't help it; he barked a short chuckle, escaping from behind his poker-face of indifference. Fai's lecherous leer turned into a triumphant smirk, and Kurogane shook his head as he remounted his horse, conceding the defeat. He turned in the saddle, holding out a hand to Fai.

"Well?" he said, and watched Fai's face light up.

It was a nominal point in their little games to Fai; but since the end result was Fai riding close behind him on horseback, nestled against Kurogane in the saddle, he rather felt as though he'd won.

"How is life in Nihon?" Fai asked.

"Good," Kurogane said, and wished for a brief moment that he and Fai still had the old bond between them, so that he could just showFai the images and feelings that swirled up in him: the court at Shinkyo, the new capital rebuilt after Edo had been destroyed in the storms. Of the buildings and pavilions, new-cut wood and fresh paint shining in the sun. Of all the people that Kurogane had sworn to protect: Kendappa and Tomoyo, who had lost her visions of the future in the great magical assault against Fei Wong Reed but who was as wise and gentle as ever. Of Prince Touya and his constant pale companion, Yukito, who served as the permanent ambassador to Nihon much as Kurogane served as Nihon's ambassador to Ceres. Of Syaoran, newly minted with a noble title for his great deeds that sat nervously on his still-skinny shoulders (although he was just beginning to hit a growth spurt when Kurogane last departed, so who knew how tall the kid would be by the time he got back.) Kendappa had even gone so far as granting him a lot of his own land (carved off of Suwa province, now that it had been re-opened for settlement. Kurogane hadn't minded.)

And of course Sakura, who had come to join the court of Nihon after all - not as a bride, but as a sister. The royal family had adopted her, and what the aristocrats had not been willing to accept in a future queen they would happily embrace in a junior princess. It helped in no small part that the rumors and legends of her great magic had filtered back to Nihon, though distorted in the telling - whatever resentments the people of Nihon might have felt against Ceresians was completely overwhelmed by gratitude for saving their country from the evils of Fei Wong Reed. As a princess-mage of sorts, the priesthood of Nihon was more than willing to accept her into their own ranks - and where their gods led, the people would follow.

Kurogane thought that it didn't hurt either that Sakura was cute as a button - her auburn hair and grass-green eyes were the subject of unending fascination amongst the dark-skinned, dark-eyed people of Nihon. Combined with her shy earnestness and shining sincerity, Sakura had quickly won over the hearts of her new people. Kurogane had been right to guess that Tomoyo and Sakura would get along well, but he hadn't anticipated just how close a friendship they would form; despite the age difference, the two were all but inseparable. Touya treated Sakura as though he'd had her as a little sister all his life, and Sakura clung to him in return with a yearning that brought echoes of Fai's memory to mind. Even Kendappa and Sakura had developed a strange, insult-and-teasing-laden bond that hid a deep, protective affection on the part of the Empress.

Kurogane knew that Sakura still missed her home, and that Fai missed his little sister. But it had been widely agreed amongst the survivors of Ceres that Sakura would be safer, and happier, staying away from Ceres for a few years while the country was rebuilt. Sakura had assented, especially once it was pointed out to her that the best way she could serve her people - both peoples - was to act as a bridge between the mountains and the plains, strengthening a love and acceptance between both kingdoms that would last for an age. Not as a pawn, but as a queen.

And how lucky for Syaoran, Kurogane thought dryly, that Kendappa had granted him a place among the nobility - there was no possibility that an orphan, even the ward of one as infamous of Kurogane, would have leave to court a royal princess. It had been a treat, the past year, to watch their friendship shyly unfolding - at the pace of a snail, it seemed sometimes, when both parties were too busy blushing and stammering to ever get any forwarder in their courtship. It had become a small game, among the castle's inhabitants, to try to trick the two young lovers into embarrassing situations or loaded conversations where they would be forced to confess to one another (although so far, their natural obliviousness had provided plenty of challenge for the players.)

As for Kurogane himself, he was willing enough to let them be at their own pace. They had all the time in the world, now.

"It's been good," he said again, and Fai gave him a knowing look that told him - blood bond or no blood bond - that he knew everything that Kurogane was thinking. "She misses you, though." Unspoken, but no less the real for it, was: I miss you.

Fai smiled sadly. "I miss her, too," he said. "I miss all of you. But the world doesn't stop turning just because you save it, Kuro-venture!" He perked up again visibly, making an effort to inject cheer into his voice but not without some truth to it. Fai loved the traveling, loved meeting new people and gathering new information. "There's so much out there to see!"

"So did you find anything interesting?" Kurogane asked as they rode.

Fai hummed thoughtfully, the sound transmitting between them where Fai pressed against his back. "Well, I've developed a catalogue of up to thirty-two diseases or parasites that have disappeared from the world completely since Sakura-chan's ascension," he said. "But I'm sure Kuro-sama isn't interested in that. What he might find interesting is that I've been in four different countries and have seen no trace of Seishirou's demonic signature, either."

Kurogane nodded. That lined up with everything they'd heard in Nihon, as well. Sightings of demons had gone down to almost nothing in the past year - and those that had been reported, when traced, inevitably turned out to be no more than superstitious villagers who'd mistaken ordinary (if large) animals for demons.

The demon-hunting corps - or at least, those who had survived the battle at the south wall two years ago - were out searching for any trace of a den where they might have gone to ground, but by this point they would have expected to find their quarry if they were going to. Most of Nihon was mystified, but grateful for the respite; it was that same relaxation that had freed Kurogane from his patrolling duties to become Nihon's first full-time ambassador to Ceres.

"You said you flew from Clow?" Kurogane asked, when the flow of Fai's chatter slowed a bit.

"Mm-hmm," Fai said, and his head moved against Kurogane's shoulder as he nodded. He let out a sigh. "It keeps on drying out, I'm afraid. The grass has already died. The trees are toughing it out so far, but if they go another season without rain I don't think most of them will make it. Those animals that can are already moving south and east, but I don't know..."

He trailed off, and Kurogane thought back to the fertile land that they'd ridden through, the four of them, on their way back from killing Fei Wong Reed. The cursed ocean of sand, the high plains of dry barren rock, all had been replaced with a veritable garden of trees and flowers - a legacy of Sakura's power. When asked about it, a drowsy Sakura had said only that she "returned the land to what it used to be -" before falling back to the deep slumber that had gripped her for most of that journey.

But whatever that land had once been, it was now a drylands. Sakura had brought a bloom of life into that dead place, but she couldn't (or hadn't thought to) alter the weather patterns of the wind and the rain to sustain it. Over the following weeks, the sun had slowly dried out the verdant plants, until by the time their party had reached the mountains the flowers had already begun to wither and droop.

"It's a shame," he muttered quietly. "Did you see those guys again?"

"Those guys, Kuro-tan, so specific," Fai admonished him with a little laugh.

"You know who I meant," Kurogane replied. "I'll call them by their proper name when you call me by mine."

"Yes, I did meet with the dragons of the desert," Fai stressed their title. " - that young man, Kamui, is very interesting company really. If you like grumpy puppies. Anyway, I told them what was happening, and honestly I think they were relieved. They've lived for hundreds of years in that desert, you know, all their way of life is adapted to it. A fertile farmland - they didn't know what to do in such a landscape, really."

"That's true," Kurogane conceded. He supposed if he'd grown up in a desert, it wouldn't look so horrible to him, either - but the emerald fields of Nihon would always feel like home to him.

"And besides," Fai added, with less humor, "this way, there's less chance of any of the nearby kingdoms - Autozam or Nihon - deciding to move into that territory. It would be too tempting to overlook, the way it was."

"Mm," Kurogane grunted. "-Speaking of Autozam..."

Fai sighed. The playful note had gone out of his voice entirely. "Yes, I visited there, as well," he said quietly. "It's still going on."

On the day of Sakura's ascension, the hour that her wave of power passed over the world, something happened in Autozam that could only be classified as a miracle. Every metal chain used to bind slaves in that country crumbled simultaneously into dust.

The slaves (with some justification, in Kurogane's view) took this as a sign from the heavens that their period of bondage was over. Their masters, naturally, tended to disagree.

The result was a bloody uprising that had thrown the entire country into a heaving maelstrom of chaos. The slave-owners had more weapons, constables and soldiers, and centuries of practice keeping their slaves in line - but what the slaves lacked in numbers they made up for in presence, and a burning fire in their spirits that would not be put down. It was not only a simple matter of masters against slaves: there had been abolitionists in Autozam even before the miracle, who enthusiastically threw their lot in with the rebels; then again, many of the slaves who had been with slave-owning families for decades had formed close bonds with them, and wanted no part of a general rebellion.

All voices calling for peace and moderation, however, had quickly been pushed to the margins as the bloody conflict escalated. By now the rebel slaves had wrested a corner of the country under their control and defended it fiercely against incursions; yet there were many slaves still trapped in the rest of Autozam, unable or unwilling to join their fellows in the stronghold, and much of the former slave-owners' population were caught in the borders of the self-declared Free Kingdom. Hostages were taken on both sides, and the sentiment on both sides grew uglier each day as the casualties mounted.

"Just before I got there," Fai said with a sigh, "the Duke of Autozam staged a mass execution in the capital square. Dozens of slaves tortured to death, left hanging there as a warning to the others. The Free Kingdomers declared that they would kill one Autozam man, woman and child for every slave who died. It's all so senseless, so..." He trailed off, shaking his head in helpless frustration. "I wish I could do something."

"I don't see how it's our business to interfere," Kurogane said. "They're going to have to fight it out until they settle a peace between them. Seems to me those slavers are getting what's coming to them."

Fai shifted around to shoot him a flat glower. "There are children dying for this mess who never chose this," he said.

"Well, what can we do?" Kurogane shot back, ever pragmatic. "Gather an army of our own and march in there, and do - what? Force them back into slavery? Kill every one of the slave owners? Cast a big spell to make them all forget what they're angry about, or make them all be friends? It was just that sort of thing, using magic to try to redraw the world into our idea of justice, that started this whole mess in the first place." Magic solutions were all well and good when the problem was simple (if insurmountable by normal means.) To move a mountain or defeat an evil wizard or bring the rain - magic could help you with any of those things. But when it came to the messy edges between one person's needs and another's, even magic had no easy answers.

"Don't blame this on Sakura," Fai snapped. "She was only trying to do a good thing. She only wanted to help."

"I know that," Kurogane said. "There's a saying that good intentions are like milk; they go sour when left in the heat. She might even get what she meant to happen, in the end; the end of slavery in Autozam. But it's going to be a hard and bloody road to get there, and we can't make it go any faster by pushing."

Fai sighed again, and seemed to deflate in the saddle. "I know," he murmured.

"Have you told her?" Kurogane prodded him. Lacking such conveniences as wings or telepathy, news of what was going on in Autozam was slow to leak back to Nihon. News of the outside world often came to them first from Fai, either during his unpredictable visits to the court there or through Kurogane. But not a word of the bloody uprising in Autozam had crossed his lips in Sakura's hearing.

"Why ever would I?" Fai said. "It would break her heart, Kuro-chan."

"News may travel slower without magic, but it still leaks out, you know," Kurogane said, "She'll find out about it someday, whether you tell her yourself or not, and her heart will break all the more to know that you lied to her. It's her doing, both the good and the ill. Let her take some responsibility for it."

Fai sighed quietly, his shoulders slumping in acquiescence. "I'll tell her," he said, his voice resigned. "The next chance I have."

Kurogane had been through this particular dance with Fai enough times by now not to trust in that. Fai wasn't exactly lying, but 'next chance' was a definition that could be bent and stretched near indefinitely. "If you don't, I will," Kurogane cautioned him. "She's your sister, but she's my Princess now too."

Fai cracked a half-smile for him, wry but sincere. "Yes, you're quite right," he said. "I'm sure she'll do as well as Princess of Nihon as she always did in Ceres - there's a lot to learn, but I know she'll do her best."

"She always does," Kurogane responded. "And she's not the only one."

They reached the shoreline of the shimmering lake, and it took some coaxing from Kurogane to convince his horse - still a bit nervous from the shapeshifting earlier, and unhappy to be carrying a double load on its back - to step onto the slender span of the bridge. It took a murmur from Fai, in some language that Kurogane didn't recognize, before the animal settled down.

The trip across the bridge was eerily silent, the only sound the clop of iron-shod hooves against the paved surface of the bridge, and the soft lap of the water against the stone; not even birds sang. They made no attempt to resume the conversation, only enjoying each other's company in the bright and almost holy silence.

At last, though, they drew near to the end of the bridge and the great castle doors came in sight. Here, at least, it seemed that nothing had change; the doors were pulled wide by servants as they approached, and a stable boy appeared to take the reins of Kurogane's horse as the two of them dismounted. He half expected to see Yukito appear, still in his office as second-in-command; instead, he was greeted by another man with dark and wavy hair in the blue-and-white robes of the Wizards of Ceres.

Kurogane was spared having to try to remember the man's name after only a brief and passing introduction almost two years ago when the man placed a hand over his heart and bowed. "Welcome to Ruval Castle, Ambassador Kurogane," he said in formal, hardly accented Nihongo. "I am Kujaku, second in command of the Council of Magi. I will show you the way."

"I suppose I should pay my respects to King Ashura," Kurogane said, resigned. He was pleased enough to take the post of permanent ambassador from Nihon to Ceres, even if Fai no longer depended on him for blood - after seeing how much of a muck of things the two countries could make, he'd eventually come to the conclusion that if you wanted a job right you'd have to do it yourself. And there was a certain appeal to be found in spending winters in Nihon (away from the icy, frozen hell that was the Windhome mountains in winter) and summers in Ceres, high up and away from the heat.

But even with all that considered, he was not looking forward to meeting Ashura again. They had hardly ever been in a room together without clashing, and even when on his most civil behavior Ashura had a way of making Kurogane feel like a rustic fool. Still and all, there were some duties that could not be avoided. "Wanna come and run interference for me?" he asked

Fai tensed up behind him, his grip circling Kurogane's waist going brittle. "Is this the first time you've been back up here since the glaciers melted?" he said, his voice strained.

"No..." Kurogane said, tilting his head back with a frown to try to capture a view of Fai's face. "I was here in the fall, when Yukito was still here up at the base camp at the top of the pass. They couldn't move everyone back into the palace until they did some repair work and got the bridges up, and that wasn't until spring."

"But you didn't see King Ashura when you were here last fall?"

"No. Yukito told me he was still too ill for visitors then," Kurogane answered, perplexed by the questions. Surely Fai should know all this? The lines of invisible communication between mages surpassed any courier that Nihon could field. "But the last missive I got before I started said that Hisoka and Kakei had managed to banish the last of the effects of the curse and that and Ashura was up and about."

Fai was silent for a moment, then heaved a sigh. "I'd rather not go in with you, this time," he said. "Maybe some other time."

"All right," Kurogane acquiesced, a little puzzled by Fai's behavior but not wanting to push him when he was obviously uncomfortable. The dark-haired wizard made a gesture that commanded his attention, and the two of them set off down half-remembered castle corridors.

As they walked, Kurogane's sharp eyes picked out some new decoration on the shoulder and sleeve of Kujaku's robes. He didn't recognize their meaning, but there was an awful lot of gold embroidery on them compared to last time. "So you're second in command now?" he asked. "The messengers I caught up with on my way up here were signed by some guy named Guru Clef."

"Clef heads the council thanks to his seniority, although none of us have strict hierarchy over one another," Kujaku answered. "Yukito and Wizard Fai are still part of our brotherhood, but they are not technically members of the regent council - their duties require them to be gone for Ceres too long to oversee its daily management."

"Regent?" Kurogane frowned uneasily. "Why would you need a regent, if Ashura is still king?"

Kujaku didn't answer, and the two of them fetched up before a large and heavily gilded door at the end of the corridor. Several guards were stationed outside it, and Kujaku returned nods for salutes from them as he introduced Kurogane in a few rapid-voiced words of Ceresian.

"King Ashura, my lord ambassador," Kujaku announced as the doors swung open, and Kujaku turned and vanished.

The room behind the opened door - suite, Kurogane immediately corrected himself - was fronted by a series of large windows filled with hundreds of tiny diamond panes of glass that caught and shimmered in the light. The lead casing between each pane was so thin and fine, it almost gave the impression of one broad sweeping pane of glass overlooking the mountains and valley below.

The view was spectacular, with the white crowns of the mountain catching the sunlight like a flame and the dark bulk of the mountains below describing sharp dramatic peaks against the sky. From this angle one could hardly see the lake that filled the valley, only the distant descending line of mountains into the green glimmering reaches that made of the kingdom of Ceres.

All the furniture in this suite was simple, though luxuriously appointed, and the desk and drawers and bed all had curiously soft, rounded edges. The fire flickered low behind a reinforced metal grate, padlocked shut. At a large low desk set sideways to the beautiful view sat King Ashura, clad in a simple set of beautiful white-and-blue robes and a circlet on his brow. A sheet of paper and a set of water-based paints sat before him, and he wore an expression of total absorption as he drew his brush over the paper.

Kurogane stood for a moment, feeling increasingly awkward as he waited for Ashura to notice him. When the king did not seem likely to look up on his own, Kurogane faked a cough, then cleared his throat loudly. That did it; Ashura looked up, and a sunny smile broke out on his face. "Hello!" he cried out. "A visitor!"

"Uh, hello," Kurogane said, somewhat thrown off his guard. He glanced around, and more of the details of the beautifully-lit room began to penetrate: apart from the finished paintings and crisp sheets of parchments awaiting paint, there were almost no papers in the room of any kind. A few thin books were scattered around the room, along with a variety of puzzles and games more suited to a child than a monarch.

"Who are you?" Ashura asked, all innocent curiosity. "Have we met?"

"Yes, I was a guest here for months," Kurogane said. "The months I stayed at Ruval Palace as your guest, the winter before the war. We fought in a duel. Don't you remember?"

It was clear from Ashura's face that he did not. Kurogane sighed, and gave up trying to stir that memory. "I'm... friends with your son. Fai."

"Oh, Fai," Ashura said, and gave Kurogane a wide, bright smile. "That's all right then. Any friend of Fai's is a friend of mine!"

"...Yeah," Kurogane said, not really sure how to respond to that.

Ashura clasped his hands together, beaming up at Kurogane. "Do you have a present for me?" he asked.

"...I do, actually," Kurogane said after a moment's hesitation. He reached into his valise and drew out the small package, wrapped in rice paper and oiled cloth to protect it from the journey. "My mistress the Tsukiyomi, Princess Tomoyo of Nihon, bade me to give this to you as a small token of our country's friendship."

He'd rehearsed the formal phrasing carefully, but it seemed like he needn't have bothered. Ashura accepted the gift and tore off the wrapping paper, gasping as the gorgeously-worked wooden bird within was revealed. Carved of a piece with a segment of a plum branch just beginning to blossom, the bird seemed poised to take into flight, wings half-furled. It was a masterpiece of art, one of the finest works by Edo's premier woodcrafter, yet Kurogane had thought it an odd little trinket when Tomoyo had given it to him as a personal gift for the King of Ceres. The King Ashura that Kurogane remembered would have cared nothing for such a trifle, yet now Ashura's face was lit with amazement as he turned it over in his hands.

He wondered how Tomoyo had known, when her vision had been stripped from her: then he remembered Yukito, the pale-eyed mage who was so deep in the royal siblings' counsels. He had to have known of Ashura's condition, and yet not a word of it had passed from his lips to anyone else: Kurogane couldn't really blame him for that.

"Thank you," Ashura said, beaming. But then his face fell. "I don't have a present to give to you."

"That's all right, Your Majesty," Kurogane assured him. "It's not necessary."

"But it is. One must always pay one's debts. Wait!" Ashura cried, and his hands dove back to the stacks of paper on the desk. He carefully extracted one of the paintings from the small stack of finished ones, and rolled it loosely before presenting it to Kurogane with a carefully modulated bow of the head that spoke of years of habit not yet erased by his new personality. "There you are. Now we're even."

"We are indeed, Your Majesty," Kurogane said, a curious lump in his throat. He glanced down at the paper in his hands. Despite Ashura's childish demeanor, the painting he held was not in the least juvenile; it was a beautifully detailed work of art, depicting the landscape outside the King's window in flawless perspective and exquisite detail. The degree of realism was startling, in fact, hardly stylized at all, but for one detail: in the painting, the lake surrounding the palace did not exist. Instead, the old town of Ruval clustered thickly about the palace walls, populated thickly by shadowy indistinct figures moving about in the now-drowned city.

After that it wasn't long before Kurogane ran out of polite nothings to say; he was not skilled at small talk at the best of times, and any but the most innocuous of topics drew only blank incomprehension from Ashura. The conversation grew limping, then still, and a bored Ashura turned back to his paints. Kurogane watched him for a few minutes, then said a quiet farewell and let himself out.

In the corridor he stopped and took deep breaths, trying to dispel the feelings of claustrophobia and nausea that welled up in his chest. He understood now why Fai spent so much time away from the castle; he understood now why they had thought it wisest to send Sakura to live in Nihon. Hard enough for Kurogane to look at Ashura without being choked by sorrow at the thought of what he once had been; how much harder for those who had loved him the most?

Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he saw the dark-skinned wizard from before appear down the corridor. Kujaku, he remembered, one of the Wizards of Ceres who made up the regent council.

"How long will you keep him like this?" Kurogane said, gesturing blindly towards the room behind him. Locked up like a pet, he meant. Pacified like a child, he meant. A shell of his former self, he meant, but he didn't say.

"As long as he lives," Kujaku said simply.

"And how long will that be?" Kurogane asked.

"Even if he can no longer remember how to use it, he is still a sorcerer. Magic flows in his veins," Kujaku said. "Without the strains and pressures of leading, without the danger of intrigue or war, his magic will keep him young for a century or more. Sakura and Syaoran's children's children will be of age before the throne becomes empty once more."

Kurogane turned away and bowed his head, not wanting the wizard to see the rage and grief that battled on his features.

"You must understand, Kurogane-san," Kujaku said. "To you, he might have been a rival, or even an enemy. To us - to me - he was far more.

"When I first came into my powers, the man who was my father beat me and my mother nearly to death," he said. His face was distant, serene in the possession of years and miles between him and the source of his pain. "He called me a witch-child and cursed me, blamed my mother for tainting my blood. He kept me locked in a cage like an animal, until King Ashura arrived to take me away. It was King Ashura who showed me what a father ought to be, what a man ought to be, and he trained me to use my power to defend my new home, and protect all its people from evil men like the one that bore me."

He used you, Kurogane thought, although he didn't think it was his place to say so aloud. Children suffer every day, in every kingdom, but he picked the ones with the most power and took them from their homes, made them adore him so he could turn them into weapons.

"The others have their own stories to tell, and it is not my place to tell them," Kujaku said calmly. "For many of us, he saved our lives; for all of us, he rescued us from whatever wretched conditions we'd been found in, and gave us a new life, and all the prestige and power we now command. Although we might have disagreed with him about the purposes to which he bent that power, we will not forsake him now.

"And we will never allow the country that Ashura dragged from barbarism to disintegrate into a civil war, nor to be swallowed up by hungry neighbors. The council of magi will continue to rule in Ashura's name. We will make Ceres beautiful, healthy and strong, a kingdom whose name others speak in reverence in awe, a country where kings and nobles send their children to learn and be cultured. We will see that the children of Ceres are protected and cared for, and do not go hungry, and we will teach them to revere the Father of Ceres until the end of his days."

Kurogane stepped out into the courtyard, blinking in the scintillating sunlight as it wavered and reflected off the marble paving stones. It was a little nook on one side of the castle, a crumbled tower which had been built up into a small walled garden. Fai was waiting there, seated at a bench in front of a small table. A servant was just clearing away the remains of what looked like breakfast - some sticky, crumbly pastry.

Fai's face lit up when Kurogane came out, and he rose from the bench and came over to meet halfway. They swirled in each other's embrace and kissed as though it had been days, not hours, since they'd seen each other last; Kurogane could taste the glaze of Fai's breakfast still on his lips. Despite the scene he'd just left, it was enough to bring a smile to Kurogane's face - partly because such a sweet confection was just like Fai, and partly because it warmed his heart to see Fai eating on his own, without needing to be forced by anyone.

"So you had a good morning, I take it," Kurogane said, before Fai could ask him how his meeting with Ashura went.

"Yes, just fine," Fai said. "There's interesting food everywhere I go in this world, but nothing quite beats home cooking."

Kurogane agreed. "So now that the formalities are out of the way," he said, "do you have any plans for the rest of the day?" If not, he could suggest a few of his own - he didn't have too many good memories of Ruval Castle, but the ones involving the gorgeous quilted covers of Fai's bedchambers definitely counted.

"Actually, I do," Fai said, his voice a little too affectedly casual. He smiled, and Kurogane found himself growing serious in response; his tone was airy and his expression nonchalant, but his body language was tense and miserable. "If you're feeling up for it, Kuro-chi, I thought we could take a little walk."

"Of course," Kurogane said quietly. "Where to?"

In ages past the mountain kingdoms - Ceresian and Valerian alike - honored their dead by placing them on high mountain peaks, leaving them for the birds to carry away. Over the years, the practice of sky-burial fell into disuse as its people moved to cairns and burial tombs instead. Yet it was still preferred for the graveyards to be as high among the peaks as possible, so that those buried there could be as close as possible to heaven (and also, more practically, to reserve the lower and more hospitable slopes and valleys for the living.)

And so, when Fei Wong Reed's glaciers came pouring down from the mountaintops to destroy Ceres, the dead had been spared what the living had not.

The burial ground of the Fluorite clan was a peaceful place, a little hollow high in the mountains surrounded on three sides by walls of stone. The soil here was not rich enough to be fruitful, but it was enough to grow soft green grass and beautiful flowers, the air damp and chill even in this midsummer. Fai and Kurogane walked together between the rows of Ashura's ancestors and it was almost a timeline of that clan's rise to power: worn and humble headstones at one end, and then a series of increasingly elaborate monuments and cairns as the years scrolled on. At the end of the row, the greatest and grandest tomb of all stood open and empty: awaiting the day that it would receive the current King of Ceres.

On the far side of Ashura's patiently waiting tomb was a small plot of grass, beneath the swaying branches of a weeping willow tree. One plot was as empty as Ashura's, and Kurogane prayed it would remain so for centuries to come. Fai could live that long, as long as he didn't do anything else idiotic. The second plot, though adorned with a beautifully carved and ornamented marble capstone, was heartbreakingly small. Here, far from the land that had borne him and thrown him away, rested Fai's brother.

And yet a third grave, on the far side of the child-size one, was new - a season's growth had covered it over with grass and flowers, yet the crisp outlines of the grave and the sharp incisions of the headstone made clear that it was a recent edition. The headstone was not quite so fancy as the child's, and yet in its simple elegance it had its own beauty.

Kurogane couldn't read the runes carved into the headstone - they were neither his familiar Nihongo nor the twisty cyrillic runes of the Ceresian language - but he didn't think he needed to. "Is this hers?" he asked quietly. "Your mother?"

Fai nodded, words coming hard to him for once in his life. Or maybe he only feared what would pour out, if he let a crack show in his mask of serenity.

Kurogane said nothing, either, but put his arm around Fai's shoulders, and the shorter man leaned in close.

"You decided to move her here, from Valeria?" he said after a long time had passed. No sounds penetrated this little dell save for the soft chirping of a few birds nested in the willow tree.

"She had a much bigger tomb in the royal cemetery of course," Fai said, and his cheer was only a little hoarse and rusty. "But somehow, I thought she would like this better."

Kurogane thought so too - but then, he'd never been to Valeria, so he couldn't really compare. He kept silent, knowing that Fai needed him to listen more than he needed him to speak.

"Sakura told me she tried to save us," Fai said, and now his voice wavered. "All these years - all these years, I never knew."

"But now you know," Kurogane said.

Fai dropped to a half-crouch in front of the grave, hugging his arm around his knees. Kurogane stayed close at his side.

"You know, I always thought I would never want to have children for myself," he said abruptly. "It seemed - too risky."

"Too risky how?" Kurogane asked.

"At first I was just scared." Fai gave a little laugh. "Scared of ending up like him. Mad and vicious and cruel."

Fai's father, the mad king of Valeria - cursed, insane, who drank the blood of his people and died choking on his own. Kurogane hadn't realized that the late king weighed so heavily on Fai's mind, but maybe he should have. Shall I too become a parasite prince? Fai had asked once, when he faced the choice of hurting another to survive or letting himself die.

"But now," Fai said, and he drew an unstable breath. "Now I think it would be worse to end up like her. I don't think I can think of anything worse than wanting to save your children, and... and not being able to. And then having your child grow up - hating you."

His voice choked off on those last two words, and Kurogane gave him a supportive squeeze. He thought about his own parents, and how they'd died - his father, his mother trying to protect Suwa even as their own blood choked them and they were ripped apart by dark magic. They hadn't been able to protect him, either - but through all the dark years that followed, Kurogane had never hated them. He'd only, on some nights, hated himself.

"It was hard enough to think of creating more children like me," Fai whispered, his voice thick and scratchy with suppressed tears. "But even worse to think that I'd end up just making more orphans."

Kurogane thought of all the people he knew who, thought one turn of fate or another, had been orphaned. Syaoran, whose father died in his place; Fai, his parents cursed and betrayed and murdered and suicided. Tomoyo and Kendappa's parents, who had been lost to civil strife years ago and left them to forge a bloody path to the throne by themselves. Kurogane's own parents, torn apart by dark magics. Even Sakura, whose father still lived, would never be a father to her again; without the mother she had never known, she might as well be an orphan in truth.

"Seems to me," Kurogane said, "that with enough time and trouble, everyone in this world becomes an orphan. The only question is whether you're able to find another family, in the meantime, to help you in their place."

He reached down and with gentle but firm movements pulled Fai back to his feet, pulling him around to look him seriously in the eye. "You're not alone, Fai," he said, using his name in an effort to get through to him. "You've got me, and that white-rabbit mage Yukito, and all those other crazy wizards for a family. And look at that, even if you don't have kids of your own you can't avoid taking care of children: you've got Syaoran and Sakura. They look up to you, you know, like they would to a father."

Fai smiled, though it was wobbly. "If I do, then you do too, Kuro-papa," he said. "You're twice as much their father as me!"

Kurogane thought he could live with that. Fai leaned into him, resting his forehead on Kurogane's shoulder, and Kurogane pulled Fai into his embrace and thought, as he had thought many times before, how very lucky they were to have come this far. How blessed they were, to be here today.

"All we can do is try to make the world a better place for those who come after us," Kurogane said. "That's all any parent can ever do."

Fai nodded, slowly, against Kurogane's shoulder. He took a deep breath that filled his chest, then pushed back far enough to look Kurogane in the eye. His own eye glowed blue with a gleam that looked almost dangerous. "Well, then," he said. "I guess we'd better get started."

As they walked out of the windless graveyard, Fai slipped his hand into Kurogane's, who gave it a surreptitious squeeze. He didn't look back.