There she sat, unwelcome in the branches of the wisteria tree: Lacie, smirking down at them.
“What do you want?” Roland asked as he, Muirrach, and Tsubasa moved between the twins and Lacie. The twins still clung to their parents, but the reunion was already spoiled, Alfred and Isadora standing to defend their children, too.
“I wanted to congratulate you,” Lacie said, kicking her feet back and forth. “I thought you were lost forever, but you managed to find a way out of Aîrchal. You’re more impressive than I gave you credit for.”
“You’re not going to try and get rid of us again, are you?” Tsubasa asked, glaring up at her.
Lacie laughed. “Oh, no, that would be silly,” she said. “Trying the same thing and expecting a different result? Quite the waste of one’s time. Though it is rather annoying that the mockingbirds get to run around free, well.” She shrugged. “I can’t control everything. And I wouldn’t want to, either.”
“How dare you?” asked Alfred, glaring at Lacie. “If anyone’s a mockery here, it’s you.”
“Ooh, trying to make me angry?” Lacie asked, leaning forward to grin down at him. “Sorry, but I’m having too much fun to spoil it with offense over petty insults. And you know I speak the truth. Your farcical ‘songbird’ is nothing of the sort.”
“Even though it’s your sister who made it?” Isadora asked. “Songbird was her gift to us, if you’ve forgotten.”
“Oh, I never forget,” Lacie said. “Darling Ciela, ever the bleeding heart. She wanted to give you comfort, after barring the doors to you and the rest of the exiles. She pitied you, though she knew you deserved your punishment. Surely you haven’t forgotten what you did.”
“If you’ve nothing but taunts, go waste them elsewhere,” Roland said. Intriguing though the questions raised by this confrontation raised, he didn’t expect Lacie to sate his curiosity. This was a game to her, and nothing more.
“Ah, Summoner,” Lacie said, smirking at him. “What’s taking you so long to visit Aula Fantasia? You’ve joined with the First Quartet. If you truly seek Elysia, why waste your time here? The Second Quartet is waiting. And I have more than taunts, thank you. You’re just icing. Enjoyable, but not the satisfying dish I came here for.”
“You…” Muirrach started, then looked to Nagisa, Tsubasa’s cousin. He spoke in roughly accented, halting Kisetsugo, but with urgency — and the message got across. Nagisa’s eyes widened, and she gave a quick nod before hurrying off, deeper into the estate.
Lacie giggled. “Try and stop me,” she said. “I do so love a challenge — if one can even be posed by such meager opposition.” There was a sudden, distant explosion outside, and Lacie hopped down from her branch to land lightly in the snowy courtyard. Her feet didn’t leave any imprints in the snow. “And that’s my cue. Toodles.” She gave a little wave and started to leave.
“You can’t just walk away!” Tsubasa said. But as she took a step forward, there was the sudden hum of a crystal gauntlet priming, and Roland called forth Viatos’ wind, pulling Tsubasa back just as a bolt of supercharged energy blasted into the courtyard where she’d been standing.
Coming to stand between Roland’s party and the retreating Lacie were members of Reunion. Lairah was here, no eagle mask to hide her face, and with her were two other bird-masked leaders. One, a tall, broad-shouldered man in grey robes, with a grey mask styled like the face of a wise owl. The other, a large woman in purple robes, with a mask styled like the face of a beautiful heron — and it was only a half-mask, Roland realized. The long beak extended outward, making it seem like it was a full mask, but beneath it Roland glimpsed lips upturned in an elegant smile.
There were others from Reunion, too, a small force — three wearing grey, three wearing purple, three wearing blue. One from each group had a gauntlet already primed, aiming at Alfred and Isadora.
“If you wish to protect the Dragon Deva, then Alfred and Isadora come with us,” said Owl-mask in a smooth, commanding baritone. “Otherwise, I’m afraid it will have to come to blows.”
“Like we haven’t beaten your forces enough times already,” Tsubasa said, adopting a fighting stance.
“You haven’t faced us, fledgling,” Heron-Mask said in an operatic soprano. “We won’t prove such easy foes.”
“Lairah!” Erika cried. “Why are you with them? What they’re doing is wrong!”
“What they’ve done — and I’ve done — was,” Lairah said, sadness in her eyes. But that sadness turned to fire when she looked at Alfred and Isadora. “But what they’ve done is reprehensible. Alfred. Isadora. There is no defense for your actions. Surrender yourselves to us immediately. Why would you bring any more danger to your children than you already have?”
“Lairah, you’ve truly bought into his lies?” Alfred asked, and fixed a stern glare on Owl-mask. “What honeyed words did you poison the well with this time, Athos?”
Owl-mask — Athos — turned his head slightly. Towards Alfred, but not quite all the way to look at him. “Poison?” he asked, his voice full of composed confidence. “I am not the one who darkened New Elysia. I did not kill our home.”
“Killed?” Isadora asked. “New Elysia still lives!”
“Your definition of life is faulty,” Athos said. “But we didn’t come to bandy words. Will you surrender, or not?”
“Absolutely not,” Alfred said. He and his wife reached to their wrists, revealing alabaster bracelets. With a press of a button, those bracelets transformed into mechanical gauntlets, articulated with their hands in an elegant manner, not at all like the crude weapons of their foes. And these gauntlets also did not house caged crystals, but instead clenched into fists, ready for close-quarters combat.
Athos sighed. “Pride still feeds your stubborn defiance,” he said. He raised his hands to fight, and Roland realized that he wasn’t wearing a weaponized gauntlet. Instead he had sleek leather gloves, with fine metal plating on the knuckles and fingers.
“Honestly, Isadora,” Heron-mask said, clucking her tongue, “you can’t steal the spotlight. The stage isn’t big enough for you and me both.”
“I have no interest in your stage,” Isadora said, glaring.
There was a pause. Tension in the air. A held breath.
And then, chaos erupted.
Alfred leapt at Athos, and Isadora at Heron-mask. Lairah moved to join them, but Tsubasa intercepted her. Lairah no longer wielded a gauntlet, but her martial arts skills were considerable, and she wasn’t going to be defeated by Tsubasa as easily as their first encounter.
“You’ve got them?” Roland asked, looking aside at Muirrach. Muirrach nodded, standing with the twins.
Which freed Roland up to go on the offensive. He called upon Vi and Shureen, and felt a thrill of power rushing through him. It wasn’t his own potential, but the land itself — the air here was pure, the snow pristine, nature itself blossoming with potent magic. Wind flung aside half of the Reunion soldiers, while snow and ice froze the gauntlets of the other half, and battered them into the ground.
Athos seemed the greatest threat remaining. Isadora was in an even contest against Heron-mask, both trading blows equally. Lairah was putting up a tougher fight against Tsubasa than in the past, but it was obvious who would win. Athos, though, was ducking and dipping around Alfred’s punches. He moved with an easy grace, but a curious style. He rarely lifted his feet, preferring to slide them lightly along the ground. And many times he lifted his hands not to block or attack, but seemingly to tap and touch Alfred’s attacks and nothing more. Taunting him? Gauging his strength? It was hard to understand what Athos was trying to do.
But it was clear that Athos would win if he fought Alfred alone. So Roland adopted a fighting stance, Shureen’s song in his throat.
“Don’t get cocky, Summoner,” said Athos. He took one step in Roland’s direction, bringing that foot down hard on the snowy ground.
A chord sounded, a dark resonance that made Roland’s heart quaver. He stepped back to defend himself…
Into darkness.
He gasped and reached out, grasping for something to hold onto, something to pull him out. There was nothing, but he could step forward — and yet that step didn’t remove him from the dark.
What did he —?
“He’s blinded you!” Vi sang, bristling with indignation.
“The dark is in your mind,” sang Shureen.
“Be calm,” sang Jurall, strong and confident. “If your sight fails, let us be your eyes.”
Roland took a breath, and closed his sightless eyes.
“Command us, little Summoner,” sang Jurall.
I need to see.
Roland listened to the pulse of the earth. The whisper of the wind in the wisteria branches. The cold of the snow. The heat of bodies and weapons.
“Our power comes easy in this place,” sang Shureen, with Vi echoing her.
Roland centered on Athos. He could feel his presence through the earth, the sliding of his feet an easy contrast from the footsteps of everyone else. He couldn’t risk a major attack. Fire he hadn’t trained with enough, and could easily run rampant in this enclosed space, with a tree in the center and wooden walls and walkways on the perimeter. Wind he might command in too great of a gust, hampering his allies as well as his enemies. Water he might end up freezing someone else, or creating a slick footing for those he wished to aid.
“Trust us,” his Fantasians sang. And in them one calm, placid voice clearer than the rest. Roland knew that life-loving Kirin was not fond of fighting. But he did not disdain action when it could help protect life.
Better still, he was most in tune with the earth, easily able to feel the slide of Athos’ steps.
Let’s unsettle his footing, shall we?
He felt Kirin’s smile in his heart, and sang the gentle, mellow song of the Fantasian he’d bonded with first. He stretched Kirin’s power through the earth, until he was beneath Athos’ feet. And then… he sent a pulse. A shockwave, rippling beneath the Owl’s feet. Athos staggered, and Alfred pressed his attack. It was interesting, too — Athos nearly tripped on the edge of the walkway as he retreated towards it, as if he didn’t know it was there. He recovered quickly, though, and a moment later was holding his ground again.
Roland prepared a different attack, but then heard the pitter-patter of smaller footsteps. “Stop fighting!” cried Erika. There was a sudden stop to her steps, and she yelled, “Let me go!” Roland realized she was fighting against Muirrach, who must have stopped her. “Lairah, Tsubasa, don’t fight! You should be on the same side!”
“I’m sorry, Erika,” Lairah said, her voice taut with tension, broken up with pauses no doubt due to combat. “But you don’t realize what your parents have done. What they plan to do. They have to be stopped!”
“If we don’t understand,” said Tsubasa, “then enlighten us, instead of demanding we do whatever you say!” There was a shift in the snow, a sudden powerful impact, and Lairah cried out, falling. “Or just stay down and out of our way. That works, too.”
“What did you do to Zexal?” asked Alfred, the sounds of his combat with Athos largely amounting to whiffs, punches darting through the air, never hitting their target. “To Songbird? You destroyed our home, all out of petty vanity!”
“Vanity?” Athos asked, all cool composure, smooth confidence. “Has your opinion of me fallen so low? Don’t think so small. Our home is Elysia, not our mechanical refuge.”
“If you have a good reason for what you did, explain it!” Alfred said, desperation rising in his voice. And Roland felt something, then — something odd. A footstep in the snow, that should be followed by another footstep… but wasn’t.
Instead, there was a sudden, brief silence. And in that silence, Roland saw… Alfred.
Only Alfred. Darkness, everywhere in his sight — except for the twins’ father, who looked mid-punch, and surprised to be in the dark. Lunging forward at nothing, he was off-balance —
And then he vanished from Roland’s sight. A footstep landed in the snow, and a sound of confusion, and then a blunt impact, and a cry of pain. “Running out of time, are you?” Athos asked. “Submit. You won’t reach the Dragon at this rate. The best you can do is surrender, for your children’s sake.”
“You don’t want us,” Alfred said, groaning in pain — but it didn’t sound like he was out of the fight just yet. Another trio of punches shot through the air, missing their mark. “And what you want, you’ll never get.”
Roland sent another ripple beneath Athos’ feet, and the Owl stumbled again. But not enough to put him off his stride, or open him up for attack.
“You can’t save her,” Athos said. “Not Fractured as she is.”
“And you can?” Isadora asked.
“If we gather her scattered parts, yes,” said Heron-mask. “What do you think we’ve been trying to do? Elysia beckons. Our Songbird will light our way back home, to the glorious stage where we belong. She was broken from the outset. You running off with part of her only makes things harder — oh!”
The sudden note of surprise was followed by a new sight in Roland’s darkened vision: Isadora, standing braced to block, and suddenly surprised to find there was no attack coming. She was all alone, like Alfred had been.
And then, a moment later, Isadora was gone. Darkness was all Roland saw.
“No, time isn’t on your side, is it?” asked Heron-mask. “You’d best make a choice, and make it fast. We’ll take you by force, and your children with you.”
“As if you could!” Tsubasa said, and there was a sudden flurry of combat.
But Roland had had enough. Kirin was proving effective for targeted strikes, but it was time to put an end to this. He began to sing Vi’s song.
Until Athos spoke in his ear, his voice so close he must be nearly touching. “The dark could be your ally,” he said. “Walk by faith, Summoner. Not by sight.” Roland turned to fight him, but his hands passed through empty air.
Athos’ voice spoke from behind him again, so close. “Leave Alfred and Isadora. You only want to protect the twins, don’t you?”
“What do you want from them?” Roland asked, wheeling about, and losing his balance. Without sight, such a sudden turn was too much, and he nearly fell, flailing about until he grasped a wall for support.
“Our quarrel is a personal one,” Athos said. “It does not concern you.”
Roland blinked at sudden light. He could see! The world was clear before him — the courtyard, the defeated Reunion soldiers, the fallen Lairah. Heron-mask, now fighting both Isadora and Tsubasa and putting up a surprisingly good fight, though she was clearly losing. Athos standing before Alfred, who was clutching his right arm, where his mechanical gauntlet had been damaged, impacted, partially crushing the hand within.
Now! Roland stepped forth, calling upon Vi’s wind…
But there was nothing there.
He gasped at the sudden emptiness, the void of power where there should be a wellspring. He called to Shureen, sang her song… but nothing came.
“He changed his target,” sang Shureen, her voice distant, faint within him. “Your eyes clear, while ours darken.”
I’ll be your eyes, this time.
“A noble ideal,” sang Jurall, “but futile. What he has done halts our powers. This is a problem too complex for an immediate solution.”
“Songbird, Alfred,” Athos said, holding out his hand. “Both aspects. Don’t test me.”
Alfred chuckled. “Both aspects?” he asked. “You ask for more than we can give. You won’t get the third without her acquiescence.”
“Set her free, did you?” Athos asked. “No matter. All birds can be caged.”
“Yes,” Alfred said, gazing seriously at Athos. “A pity some birds don’t recognize a cage when they’re in one.”
“You just take a seat right there, okay?” Tsubasa asked, and Roland looked to see Heron-mask slumped on the floor against the far wall, gasping for breath, Tsubasa standing over her triumphantly.
“The tide turns, Athos,” Alfred said. “You’re all alone. And soon the Fujitoshi security forces will come, too. You’ll be overwhelmed.”
Athos spread his hands. “Don’t be so sure of that,” he said.
There was a sudden, earth-shattering explosion. The ground shook, knocking Roland to his hands and knees. Muirrach knelt to protect the twins. Alfred and Isadora dropped, unable to catch themselves as Roland had. Only Tsubasa and Athos kept their footing. But while Athos stood sure and composed, Tsubasa turned, horror dawning in her eyes.
It was Lairah, though, who spoke first when the shaking subsided. She pushed herself to her feet, gaping in shock at Athos. “What did you do?” she asked.
“I gave the city something bigger to worry about than us,” Athos said.
“You bombed the city!” Tsubasa said.
“How could you!?” Lairah asked.
“We cannot fail here,” Athos said. “This will occupy the security force’s attention for hours at least. We can finish what we started without distraction.” He turned towards Alfred.
But Lairah stepped into his path.
“This is wrong,” she said, electric defiance in her eyes. “Step after step, you’ve pushed across lines we never should have crossed. Now I see the truth of you: no price would be too high. No atrocity too awful. You’re the rot at the center of Reunion, poisoning our noble goal.”
“You would leave me, Lairah?” Athos asked. “After all I’ve done for you?”
“I’m truly grateful,” Lairah said. “But I’m not your puppet.”
Athos sighed. “A pity. I had such high hopes for you.”
He began to adopt a fighting stance, and Lairah copied him, though she was clearly hurting from her fight with Tsubasa. But just then…
A tear opened up in the courtyard. A rip in the fabric of reality, crackling with energy, providing a window into the unknowable, all wild colors and strange shapes, nothing clear, nothing constant.
“No!” Alfred cried. But it was too late. His time was up, and both he and Isadora began to stagger towards the tear against their will, fighting against its invisible pull.
“Mother! Father!” Erika cried, and she broke free from Muirrach, her and Enrique both racing towards their parents. They embraced them, but though they held tight and pulled with all their might, they couldn’t stall the inevitable.
“It’s okay,” Alfred said, offering a faint smile. “Listen to us, Erika, Enrique. You must meet with the Dragon. Fujiryuu can awaken the song inside of you.”
“Trust its voice,” Isadora said, cradling Enrique’s face in her hands, smiling at him. “Protect each other. And please — trust us. What we did, we did for you most of all.”
“We love you!” Alfred said. His wife echoed him. And then, they were pulled from their children, hurtled towards the opening in the courtyard.
They fell through. The tear snapped shut.
Alfred and Isadora were gone.
“It seems time was not on our side, either,” Athos said, and there was the faintest edge in his voice, the slightest crack in his composure. “Heron. We depart.”
“But we can still take the children!” Heron-mask said, pushing herself to her feet.
“Don’t be so sure of that,” Lairah said, and Tsubasa actually smiled at her, standing side-by-side with her, ready to fight.
“Songbird is more important,” Athos said. “Lairah — it is as I said. All birds can be caged.”
“I’m done with your cage,” Lairah said, glaring.
Athos sighed. “You will learn, fledgling, the futility of your defiance.” He raised his hand, and snapped his fingers.
A chorus of gasps filled the air as darkness swept over the courtyard. A huge, feathery wingbeat sent a gust of wind that nearly knocked Roland off his feet. Lairah cried out, in a panic, “Erika!”
The wind faded. The darkness ended.
When the light returned, Athos, Heron, Lairah, and their fallen comrades were gone.
“Lairah…” Erika said, crestfallen.
Roland collected himself — and felt a sudden chorus rise within him. His Fantasians were no longer blinded, no longer thwarted by Athos’ mysterious magic. Their power had returned.
“Erika, Enrique,” Tsubasa said gently, “I know there’s a lot to process right now. But Lacie… I think she’s going for the Dragon Deva. We have to stop her.”
“Go,” Muirrach said, sitting with the twins. “I’ll stay with them.”
Tsubasa paused, uncertain. She looked at Roland, and when he nodded, so did she.
Together they ran, Roland following Tsubasa’s lead through her family’s ancestral home, the grand estate that housed the guardians of the Dragon Deva’s shrine.
“The heart of the shrine is Ryuu-no-tobira,” Tsubasa said. “The Dragon’s Gate. Only the Kuraoka family’s sworn guardians can open and close the Gate. But Lacie’s too powerful, too dangerous.”
“And exceptionally good at getting what she wants,” Roland said, between breaths. His lungs were beginning to protest at the run, but he pushed on.
“Yeah,” Tsubasa said ruefully. “We’re almost there. Please… let them be safe!”
They raced down a corridor towards a large door that stood open. Through the door they ran, and came to a sudden stop at the edge of a beautiful plateau, ringed by wisteria trees. At the far side, set atop a short stone staircase, was a tall shrine gate — and beneath it was a veil of light, a portal to another world.
Scattered in the snow were seven fallen guardians, each armed with long, sharp spears. They lay bloodied, but surprisingly, still breathing. Nearest the gate, an old man in ceremonial robes lay with his head and shoulders cradled in Nagisa’s lap. He was breathing, but they were shallow breaths, and his face was a bloodied, bruised mess. Nagisa had one hand over his face, singing a soft melody. Motes of light fell from her palm like glittering snowflakes, tending to the old man’s wounds.
At the Dragon’s Gate, Lacie stood, already passing through the veil of light. But at the base of the stairs, a man stood with his back to Roland and Tsubasa. He was tall, his bare arms taut with wiry muscle. Long, dark hair streaked with grey was pulled back in a ponytail, fluttering in the wind.
In either hand, he held a tonfa, dripping with blood.
“Sensei…?” Tsubasa asked, staring in horror.
The man turned to look at her. Just like in the vision of him in Aîrchal, Roland saw warmth in the man’s eyes. He certainly didn’t see the cold intensity of a man capable of this kind of brutality. Worse still, when the man saw Tsubasa… he smiled.
Then he turned and climbed the stairs, following Lacie through the Dragon’s Gate. Tsubasa stood frozen, staring but not pursuing.
Roland placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him wide-eyed. “Let’s go,” Roland said softly. “We have to stop them.”
Tsubasa took a breath. She stared into Roland’s eyes, and Roland looked right back at her, sharing what reassurance he could.
Then Tsubasa nodded. Together, they ran, leading the way to the Dragon’s Gate.