One Soul

Chapter Twenty: The Darkened Army

"Hello...?"

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Calypso stood up, her eyes still tightly shut from the energy beam. She spoke out again. "Hello, can anyone hear me? William?" Her hands felt in the darkness for any signs of her friends of the Gingold twins. "Norene? Will? Sol?" her voice grew panicky as her calls were left unanswered. "June? Jul-"

Her voice was drowned out by the thundering of footsteps and distant calls. A young child cried out, and there was the sound of a faint struggle someplace farther away. She remembered to open her eyes and found herself back on Ouránia, near her mother's palace in the woods. The moon hung low in the sky, full and illuminating the forest around her. The light reflected off of the armor in the distance, as Calypso now saw the army dashing towards her. Eyes devoid of anything but inky blackness, skin ashen and bodies frail, veins faintly showing a darkish purple underneath papery skin. It was once the queen's army, but now Calypso understood the fear that had struck the Gingolds. The golden crests on the armor seemed dull, like the very luster of it had been sucked away leaving flat pigment behind.

Two of the cavalry horses were attached to a yoke, pulling what appeared to be a cage made of dark iron bars. The bars had odd, disturbing energy to them - they seemed to writhe and twist like the cage was made of flowing pitch black ink. Inside were the Gingold twins, Norene, Solomon, and a very distraught William. The siren boy lunged at the bars again and again, though each time they seemed to burn at his escaping touch and send him tumbling back. He howled, his eyes flashing in the dark, as Norene reached with a tentative hand to try and calm him. Solomon yelled desperately at the guards to let them go, to see what they were doing, to explain just what would happen.

Calypso paled, holding her staff at the ready for a battle, though she knew she would barely dent the darkened army before her and her friends would be in serious peril. Instead, she spun the staff between her hands and planted it into the ground, shaking the earth below them. The slight shudder caused the army to pause, though monotonously.

"I, Calypso Breanna, princess of Ouránia, command you to halt!" She shouted, though to no response. Her friends quieted, and William looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Let go your...your prisoners at once and relinquish them to me! This is a direct order from your future queen!"

One soldier, eyes hidden by his helmet, stepped forward as if to whisper something to the darkened commander when something peculiar happened. His body seemed to be pulled back as she struggled to move, his feet sliding through the dirt but his chest straining forwards. His voice seemed to be taken by a nonexistent breeze. The commander looked at him in disdain, striking the soldier upside the hand strong enough to knock his helmet askew, revealing his eyes were covered by a blindfold. However, there was something familiar in his burgundy hair and viacious-if restrained-movements.

"B-Blaise?" Calypso asked, her voice a rushing whisper over the crowd. "What are you...? You're, you're missing, you're not some, some blindfolded...!" Her knees buckled and she leaned on the staff for balance. "You're not...you're not a, a dark soldier."

The soldier, Blaise, lowered his shoulders as if in shame. Though in true nature of the former Herald, his chin did not lower. There was guilt, but there was not a lowering of the self in search of repentance. That was not his way. "You're fire, bright and burning and elusive. Powerful and able to bring incredible warmth or awe. You're not some mindless drone, and you should know what you're doing possessed or not! You're the kingdom's finest...or you were," Calypso stammered. This man, though now his boyhood apparent in this revelation, was the one who saved her from Pandora. He taught her how to tame Nephele, the winged horse, and raced her against the wind in the sunlight. He was only sixteen, the youngest Herald in history, though years of fire and training made him appear like a young adult.

"I'm sorry, Callie," he said, his voice back to its deep, smoky, crackling yet warm cadence. Yet, he sounded so weak. "I can't...it's too strong. I'm fighting it, I swear to god I'm-agh!" As if struck by an invisible force, Blaise's body convulsed, contorting and straining against nothing. He shook, almost as if shivering if it weren't for the pain etched on his mouth. He was then thrown to the ground. "They haven't got me yet, I promise! I still know who I am, and my duty: to protect you at all costs-!"

Another anguished cry sent Calypso's hands flying to plug her eyes. She begged herself to shut her eyes and try to drown out the fact the strongest hero she had ever known was now at the mercy of a seemingly unstoppable dark force. "Blaise!" She yelled, a surge of energy resonating from her as she lunged towards him, arms around his shoulders. "Blaise, tell me! Tell me who they are, the mastermind!"

She trembled as she pulled him close, admiration spilling into desperation and fear. For some reason, the army remained paused, her friends silent. "Blaise, you need to tell me! I need to stop them - who are they?"

Blaise looked at her, the blindfold not stopping the searing eye contact. She startled slightly before leaning in closer, afraid to miss a single syllable. "The priest, the one from Pandora you met before the ceremony," he wheezed, his voice raspy and quick. As soon as he finished his sentence, a dark cloud of dense fog appeared around him suddenly and condensed, he yelled once then was silent as the fog dissipated into heavy smoke, trailing the ground. Blaise was gone, all left was the dirtied blindfold on the ground. Calypso picked it up, shaking.

Then everything struck back into motion.