Bygone

4

Chosen

The vault doors of the bunker's doors chittered as they parted, Marcus marching firstly as Chloe followed along. The delicate, refreshing breeze within the stronghold had once more eased their fatigued bodies and their virulent choice to stay.

The crucial moment had fled from them.

So carelessly they had made their decision, but both of them truly believed their judgement to be a righteous cause; either for the world, or for themselves.

But as Chloe stepped into the bunker for a second time, the faint crackling of the grass behind her resonated through the air and into her drums. She supposed it was her hope that the three of them stuck together, and that hope was soon satisfied as she turned back round.

Her eyes were met with the glimmer of the daylight, and the blackened-brown of Jaclyn's shaken pupils. That breeze that came from the stronghold came from her now, it was no easy choice for her and Chloe knew exactly what she was risking: who she was risking.

Thank you.

She gave a gracious smirk, nodding and appealing to the girl she had known her to be. Merely a dozen minutes ago Jaclyn was in a neat and charming beauty. Now instead, hysteria and lunacy had overthrown her. The stifled chocolate bristles of her freed coiffure were now in a disheveled array, her trammeled arms and crippled legs struck with aversion and unease. Chloe had no verdict against her decisions, which meant despite her perturbed regard, she couldn't curb the choices she had made next.

Now, Jaclyn entered into the bunker before Chloe had done the same. Marcus awaited both of their arrivals, having found Moira admiring the arks that had enveloped a trinity of once legendary armors that transcended that of the physical, and metaphysical. Armors that always fit; akin to how their titles would be suited to do the same.

The three prudently edged closer, and to Moira's side. Her expressions aren't of curiosity in their somehow shared decision, but of calmness and conviction. Stillness recited in their hearts, the lamps of the command room veiling the cabinets in a quietened light. All of them had unified on a common consensus, but not a common goal. Their reasons for sacrificing their normality to take up the mantle of a damned cavalry were all of personal desire and acceptance.

Then yet, the triad stood together nonetheless.

An anemic, but growing kindred that has the opportunity of blossoming into something beautiful. A subtle reminder of the collective home and similar lives they shared, but deepened commonality of their potential and will.

"Hundreds of men and women have stood in the same places the three of your feet stand upon now. Hundreds of men and women who believed either the Chosen's legacy, or the Between.. was worth sacrificing everything and everyone they had ever known."

They steadily began to reposition, hearing the call of the prominent energy the weapons within emanated. None of them listened to their own minds; instead, to their own desperate desires and need for a fantastical bliss.

Chloe gazed upon the ark of purity. The same ark that promised her what she wanted the world to be. The innocent, benign white dwarfed yet befitted the virtuous girl. She failed to see her capabilities as that of a valiant knight, as she believed her companions to have been.

The elementals to her were that light that this eclipsed world needed and she was going to be that light to the best of her abilities. She was going to purge the world of evil and shine as a beacon of hope.

Lucerne.

Marcus stared deeply into the ark of enlightenment, which sheathed what he knew to be ashen steel stained with a faded, scarlet crimson. A symbolism of a flame that would burn as long as hope lingered. The definitive, relentless red remained congruent and steadfast as the passionate boy. His determination and passion was known to him as his characterizing traits, especially with the promise of perfection.