She found herself sitting alone on a crate in the corner of the inn. Her best friend, a young woman named Eya, had been staying in the palace ever since she discovered she was expecting a child. Lucafira had insisted this living arrangement be made for the safety of her friend. This left her without a companion. Eya and Lucafira had been friends since their early teenage years -- two young runaway girls with nowhere to go and nobody to care for them. The two girls were practically twins, with only the shades of red in their hair to distinguish one from the other. They'd grown close and called each other "sisters," and behaved as such.
"Maybe I should go check on her," Lucafira said aloud to nobody. "I've not seen her in quite some time." She then paused, remembering all the memories held in the palace walls. "No. I'm not going back there. Ever."
A pair of drunken young men who had obviously gotten on each other's nerves approached Lucafira's vicinity. They were swinging swords at one another and swearing profusely. The redheaded woman raised an eyebrow and watched as they drew closer. They were paying her absolutely no mind, and one swung his sword within inches of her ear. She didn't flinch -- she didn't even blink -- and rose to her feet. From the sheath at her side, a beautiful Saber emerged. She swung once at each man, causing each to have their sword fly out of their hands and into the air.
"Don't you see me here?" She growled lowly. "Be a bit more considerate."
The drunken males ignored her and instead pounced on one another, tumbling around on the floor. She scoffed and stepped over them. "Disgusting people," she murmured.
She walked through the streets, avoiding eye contact with anybody who happened to be in her path, ducking into the woods at her first convenience. With nobody to bother her, she walked with her eyes staring ahead instead of downward. The trees formed a quilt which blocked off the sky from view. The green haze in the air was unseen. Suddenly, a snapping sound caught her attention, and she whirled around. Her green eyes widened in horror as a rotting hand clawed its way out of the earth.
"No," she murmured frightfully. "Impossible... they were all..."
Another snapping sound, then another. She turned a slow circle and found undead creatures digging themselves out from the soil. She quickly counted seven, with more still appearing. She took a step backwards, but found herself surrounded. She stood as upright as possible, although dread and terror made her want to cower towards the ground.
One of the creatures limped forward on its decomposing legs. It pointed a bony, sharpened finger at her.
"Back for you, Lucafira..." It growled.
She reached into her pocket for her half of the skull-shaped stone. For the first time in over a year, it flickered to life. She narrowed her now purple eyes into catlike slits, and reached for her sword.
"Not without a fight," she growled with her best effort at bravery. She lunged forward and tumbled across the ground as the zombies jumped at her. She rolled to her feet and sprinted through the wooded landscape, jumping and dodging as rotting hands continued to spring up from the ground. Her chest felt tight as her lungs began struggling to keep up with her pace. She had to stop running. She had to fight. She turned back to face the horde, thirty strong, and swallowed a growing lump in her throat.
"Either they retreat, or I go down swinging," she spoke to herself. With a vicious shriek of aggression, she threw herself at the horde, swinging her Saber ferociously.
Phil was standing on the deck of his vessel, eyes staring up at the strange green haze that hung overhead. It sent a dreadfully familiar feeling down his spine... a feeling that had been absent for over a year. He squinted a bit and looked at the island that his ship had ported at. Things looked so calm and peaceful despite the green cloud that loomed over it. In the back of his mind, a warning began repeating itself:
The time has come to rise again...
He shook his head. "No," he said to himself. "I'm retired from all of that. I'm just hearing things..." He shook his head again as the warning repeated, louder. It was then that his pocket began to vibrate. He dug through it until he found the source of the sensation -- the purple stone. His eyes widened, and he was tempted to throw the stone into the depths of the water.
"Stop it!" He shouted at it. "I'm retired from that!" He felt a whirlwind of emotions plaguing him from out of nowhere. But most of all, he felt a strange, protective aggression. The stone suddenly emitted a purple line of light, pointing to the island. His hand tightened around the stone, and in the back of his mind, he began to hear voices.
"We are back for you..." A distorted, menacing voice.
"Go away! I'm not giving in until I'm dead!" A female's voice. Tired. Weary. Afraid.
Without thinking, he jumped down onto the docks and ran in the direction of the purple light. He shoved his way through a group of gossips who quickly shouted insults in his direction. But none of it mattered to him. All that mattered was getting there in time.
She yelped as her body landed abruptly against a trunk of a tree. She slid down it until she was in a half-sitting, half-lying position on the ground. She had fought off five of the damned creatures before three stole her sword away and began their assault on her. She coughed, gasping for air, wincing as she was hoisted up from the ground by the throat. She felt the nails digging in; she felt the blood dripping down her neck.
"Give it up," the creature holding her instructed. "You can't win against us alone..."
She gripped at its wrist and dug her own nails in, but she was far too weak to cause any damage. The creature responded by sinking its own claws in further, causing a gasping cry to come from her throat. Her vision was becoming hazy in the corners of her eyes, and she felt as if her life was simply draining away.
So this is how it's going to end, she thought grimly to herself. I'm going to be killed in the first onslaught...
The creature repeated, "You can't win against us alone..."
"She's not." A male voice suddenly pierced the eerie silence. The zombies turned around to see a young man standing a few feet away, a sword in his hand. He didn't give them much time to react before quickly jumping forward and separating the undead creature from its arm. The young woman in its grasp made a weak noise as she felt herself fall to the ground.
"I don't know who she is or what you want from her," Phil began in a strangely calm voice, "but I suggest you leave her alone before I make you leave."
She looked up wearily, but could only make out blurry visions around her. She crawled across the ground, looking for her Saber. A zombie dug its claws into her shoulder, causing her to emit an awful shriek of agony. Immediately, her rescuer turned around and threw his sword through the attacker's midsection. For a second, Phil looked down at the girl he was saving.
She looks familiar... he thought. He quickly jumped back as another zombie swung its disgusting claws at him, and he made quick work of slicing off the undead monster's hands.
"I guess none of you listen all that well," he growled at them. He gripped the stone in his pocket tight, activating its hidden energies. His sword immediately transformed into an amethyst flame, and for a moment he missed the strength Bane gave him.
The remaining zombies appeared frightened. They began to make a retreat, but not before Phil sacrificed a few more to make sure the creatures got the message. He stood at the ready for about five minutes before coming to the conclusion that no more zombies were going to spring up. Just before he was about to discharge the stone's power, a familiar blue haze appeared in front of him.
"So, it is you again," the female's voice made him growl angrily.
"You're not dead, I see," he spat out bitterly.
"My name is Lucimueria -- Light of Death -- you foolish boy," Lucimueria mocked. "I do not die that easily."
"What do you want now?" He demanded.
"I was expecting to be rid of my sister when I sensed Bane's activation. Imagine my surprise when I find you, 'Fearless Phil,' holding the blade instead." She narrowed her green eyes and smirked viciously. "Tell me, how are things between you and my sister?"
For a moment he looked wounded, but the look quickly turned into impending rage. "None of your business," he snapped quickly.
"Fine, I do not have to ask you what I already know," she laughed softly. "Just know this: The Ghost Dynasty has risen once more. We will be in touch, Phil..."
He lunged forward to swing at her, but simply swung through mist. He stood motionless, breathing heavily while growling between breaths. How dare she ask such a question! But more importantly, why was she back? It was then he realized that he needed to go back and check on the victim of the attack.
He turned and saw the young woman laying face down on the ground. He quickly ran over and knelt at her side, turning her over to check for a pulse. When he turned her over, his breath was knocked out of him and his heart stopped for a split second. He was staring into the wounded, pale face of his former lover.
"Luca..." he stammered after a moment. He took a small piece of cloth out of his pocket and cleaned some of the blood from her face and neck, suddenly moving with an increased urgency. She was frighteningly pale and felt cold to the touch.
"Don't you dare die on me," he growled in distress, shaking her softly. He repeated his demand, voice raising with panic. "Don't you dare..."
He dug through her belongings until he found her half of the stone. He held it close in his hands and attempted to channel some of his own strength into it. He channeled his energy into the stone for two full minutes, then placed it into the palm of her left hand. He clasped her hand shut and held it tight, squeezing it in a pulsing rhythm.
"Come on," he begged, "don't reject my efforts..."
I know I made a mistake, he was pleading to himself. I should never have left, and I'm sorry that I did. But please, Luca, don't you dare reject my efforts and die just to get back at me. I would never forgive the both of us... Especially myself...
He put his head on her chest, and for a second remembered how so long ago, he used to rest his head against her while the two stargazed on idly floating ships in the middle of the night. He bit his lip and forced the thought away, pressing against her and listening for the beating of her heart. But he heard nothing. He cried out softly, involuntarily, and removed one hand from hers and began pressing on her chest.
"Luca, please!" He begged loudly. "Don't do this to me!" He pressed harder when he got no response. His hand squeezed hers tighter. A few tears welled up in his eyes and slowly traced down the sides of his face. He stared down at her, his energy waning as hopelessness began to set in.
"Don't do this to me..." He whimpered again, voice shattered.
Suddenly, Lucafira seemed to choke and gasp for air. He jumped a little, startled, and held his own breath. A few more tears spilled over in his eyes. She writhed a little, coughed again, and gasped hard. He felt her clutching the stone on her own, and slowly let her hand go. He studied her, noticing her shorter hair and lack of a ponytail. He leaned forward, practically leaning over her, mentally pleading with her.
Open your eyes, Luca, you can do it...
A few moments later, her eyelids fluttered and opened halfway. Her vision was blurry and she wasn't sure who was standing over her. She made a slight moaning sound and began to sit up. Whoever was next to her quickly grabbed hold of her and held her up.
"You... you're alive!" Phil cried out suddenly, wiping his eyes on his arm.
She blinked a few times and found herself staring into the eyes of her former love. She snapped quickly, "Yes. I'm fine." She pulled herself away from him and began to stand. She was extremely unsteady.
He looked a little hurt, but shook it off. "You really shouldn't stand up like that," he said softly. "I don't think I channeled enough to you..."
"Why are you even here?" She growled softly.
"Because I..."
She cut him off. "Why don't you go back to training, or whatever it was you said you were going off to do." She staggered and began to walk away.
He jumped up and followed. "I was wrong, okay?" He offered. "I shouldn't have done what I did. But I saved your life! I could've let you lay there and die..."
She turned around. "Maybe you should've."
"Don't talk like that," he scolded.
"Why not? You didn't care a year ago. Why do you care now?"
"Because I was wrong!" He cried out. "I'm admitting I was wrong. I'm saying I'm sorry... doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"No. It doesn't." She began to walk away again.
He continued to follow. "Besides, if your sister's back to cause trouble, you're going to need help."
"I can handle it."
"Right, like you handled the zombies?" He snapped sarcastically, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
She stopped again and turned to face him. "You want to stick around and help me fight Lucimueria? Fine. But after she's been defeated, we go our separate ways again. Understand?"
He sighed heavily and nodded, knowing he wasn't going to win the argument. "Yes. I understand."
"Good..." She wobbled weakly and began to fall. He quickly ran over and caught her. He watched as she lapsed into unconsciousness, then carefully picked her up and began carrying her to the hidden townhouse.
"But I hope you understand that I intend to change that." He spoke aloud to nobody.
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