Lucius is looking for Celandra in the depth of the forest, where he knows she practises her spells. His armour is faded, stained of blood, his face looks much older than what he truly is, a lot of scars carve his body, his sword is about to break because of too many battles.
As he gets deeper into the forest, he hears a strange language, spoken only by the witches.
Long branches make him struggle to walk.
In the middle of the forest, Celandra is sitting on the grass with her legs crossed, her arms move slowly around a sphere of magic, waves of light move swiftly around her arms, her eyes are watching something only her eyes can see, and her voice is so ancient and deep.
Lucius slowly gets closer to her on a light step, trying not to stutter.
-I know you are there, Lucius... I can see you. Many casualties are occurring in the world: I cannot see Mefistofel anymore, can't say whether he is still on his way to his salvation, or he is already perished and may never come back. Many wars have spread, a lot of blood has already been spilt, and more will be. We shall lose all of those we care for. Many wars are already happening in this world, many others are about to come.- Her voice is very low, very intense, and very sad.
-I see people suffering, people fighting, people dying, people hating and loving in the same way. I can see the End coming, every second, like a wave I can see from far away, ready to drown us all.
Still nothing can stop it...-
Images pass swiftly through the sphere: soldiers screaming, sword breaking, people dying, people praying, everything at such a speed Lucius can barely catch it into his human mind.
-Celandra... we're ready...-
-I know. They are coming, coming to kill us all. They will never stop, until the end of everything. Until not a grain of sand will remain on this earth. We have lost many of ours. Still they don't stop, they won't stop.-
She lowers her arms and the sphere of light vanishes in the air leaving just a sparkle of light gently crawling around Celandra's arms. She looks much older than what she may have seemed just a few seasons before. Her eyes still show pride and power, but her spirit is truly weary with sorrow, battle, loss.
Together they walk out of the wood, looking at what is left of the wonderful town: burnt to the ground, only ashes left, buildings left to few walls, playgrounds turned into cemetery, sky full of dark smoke, people hiding in the depth of the ground, safe from those who still linger to kill and destroy everything.
-They have taken the North hills: nothing left, everything ashes. The watch towers are gone, all our hopes are vanishing. We are outnumbered.-
-Hope is not a number, Lucius. Can you put a number to the depth of your hope?-
-I can number people dying: children, and women. I can feel hope decreasing everyday within my men's hearts as battles are lost, everyday our enemies get stronger and destroy our land. I can feel the End.-
-The End IS coming, Lucius! I can feel it better than everybody else.-
The path to the castle is full of holes in the ground, air is so heavy and hard to breath. Dark shadows come from corners threatening those who walk those streets, still Celandra's eyes turn into that direction and those shadows step back snarling back.
-Do you believe Mefistofel is still alive?-
Lucius' words sound so heavy, so sad. He fears for the answer.
-I do believe. But I cannot see.-
-What can you see?-
-I told you already. I can see the End. Either good or bad It's still up to be decided.-
The castle has been barred. As they get close enough to the gate, somebody by the towers waves a signal. After a few seconds of waiting, somebody opens the door, letting Celandra and Lucius enter the last free corner of Hell.
Everyone has been hidden in the depth of the castle, what once used to be prisons grounds, now is a place of hiding.
The throne room has been turned into a hospital.
Many soldiers lay on the ground, many have a blanket upon them, many try to bandage their own injuries.
Celandra gets close to a soldier who tries to clean his injured arm. His hand is missing. Gently she takes a cloth from a bowl of water and squeezes it, saying healing words in the old language and washing the blood from the arm.
Slowly the blood from injuries is being washed away and the gap in his skin has turned into a deep scar.
Celandra puts her hand on the back of the soldier's head, helping him to lie down, as he falls asleep, with a sweet smile upon his face.
-You have a healing touch. - Lucius tries to force a smile.
Celandra gets up and slowly she strokes the forehead of the sleeping soldier.
-He's dead.-
Lucius looks at the sleeping soldiers and realizes that his chest is not moving.
A tender smile on his scarred face.
-Have you seen my daughter?-
-She spends nights and days trying new spells and potions. She is very powerful. She still waits for Mefistofel to come back.-
-Her hope is strong. As much as her powers.-
Many of the soldiers are very young, or very old. Their faces are scarred and their armours are stained with blood of their enemies and their friends. Their eyes are full of fear, survival instinct keeps them alive. Not for long.
Lucius approaches one of the soldiers standing near a window of the tower.
-We've been watching, sir. No sign of them.-
-How many losses until now?-
The soldier is unwilling to answer as the words seem stuck into his throat.
-We counted one hundred this morning, sir. The counting is still going up every day.-
The soldier stands uneasy to speak.
-What's wrong?-
-Sir...We won't live up another night... We're outnumbered... There is no more hope.-
-There is always hope, soldier. Otherwise what are you fighting for?-
The soldier hesitates to speak, keeping his eyes low to hide despair.
-.....My family.... has been... killed...sir. I have nothing to fight for.-
All the soldiers in the tower now look at their first commander. They need a leader. They need words of encouragement.
-You were born in this land, weren't you? You grew up in it! You loved it! You hated it! You made love in those fields! Are you going to let these creatures take the land in which you live? Shall your desire for life be so weak? Don't you care for your world? Are you going to let these monsters destroy all you lived for and let them get away with it? Many of ours have died. Shall we make their sacrifice in vain? Shall we spoil everything? Shall we let them die for nothing? I won't! I can't! If you want to run away, you are free to do so. But I shall fight for my land, for my life, for everything I have left here.-
Soldiers stare at their commander. Some are stronger, thanks to Lucius' words, some others don't feel willing to react nor fight. They have lost too much.
It's the sound of the horn that breaks the silence. All the heads turn towards the top tower where the castle horn, once used to announce news, is used to alarm the town.
-THEY ARE COMING!!-
A black arrow pierces through the soldier's eye, flying through its brain and into the wall.
Winged shadows flying in the sky, fly upon the castle breaking the walls with huge paws, spitting fire wherever any living being may dare to be, screaming guttural snarls out of their monstrous mouths.
Dark riders ride black dragons through the town destroying everything on their path.
On the road leading to the castle, armies of orcs pull catapults ready to cast flamed balls toward the castle. Giant orcs attack the gate, braced by the last fighting soldiers struggling to hold the strength of those monsters. The gate has been through so many fights, it may not last this one.
On the roof of the castle Ariel and the witches cast spells upon the armies, which keep running up to the castle like a swarm of locusts destroying everything on their way.
The sky turns black, the witches summon the elements in their help.
Hail falls upon the orcs stabbing them repeatedly.
Earthquakes crack the ground open wide, swallowing the monsters into the core of the Earth.
Hurricanes twist upon them making them fly miles high into the sky.
Ariel's eyes are as black as night.
Her hands hold electric waves, wrapping her body. Her clothes furiously fly in the wind, showing the scars around her legs, once perfectly shaped.
All the witches gathered next to her cast spells from the roof of the towers like deadly beautiful goddesses giving their wrath to those invading their empire.
Archers from the towers cast their arrows, hitting as many monsters as they can before they may reach the gate.
Celandra stands behind the gate braced by the soldiers, her hands create magic chains around the walls.
The towers collapse like sand castles and the soldiers fall to the ground screaming.
All around is Death! Like the Great War! Celandra can see the same battle, the same death and blood as aeons ago. All around her is the same. The same history repeating itself.
As the dawn tries to find its way through the sky, the screams and snarls of the goblins and the orcs get angry because they cannot bear the sunlight. Still, dark sorcery lets them, unwillingly, unleashed. The smoke of the dragons is darkening the skies so that they can run free and kill. Ariel is fighting to keep them away from the castle with all the elements. Her eyes as black as night are giving space to the natural colour of her eyes.
Her legs shake, unable to stand her own weight,
Her breath is heavy.
Her hands are heavy, unable to hold the Dark Powers any longer.
She falls, exhausted of her own power.
One last breath and her body is giving in.
Her arms fall like wings unable to fly.
Her body hits the cold stone of the ground.
Her face lies on one side.
She can see death and blood in front of her eyes.
Soldiers, vampires, orcs, everything is dead.
Staring at everything fading around her, a fragile tear falls gentle on her cheek.
The love of her life lost nowhere or anywhere. So far away, still so close to her heart, she could call his name.
<I wish I could have seen you again. My dark angel.>
Just one name echoes in her heart, before Darkness swallows her into the depth of eternity. The world is so far now. No more swords splinting, orcs creaming, spears broken splinted. All around her is silence and peace. Peace she thought never being able to feel.
<Where am I?>
<You are home, child. Open your eyes. Don't be afraid.>
Slowly and afraid, Ariel opens her eyes. All around her is warm and bright. A wonderful land, such a beauty no books could ever describe. The castle stands in front of her. So marvellous, so proudly erected.
The sun shines upon it like a jewel. There is no battle, no monsters, no blood and no war. It's just the world.
<Come, child. We've been waiting for you.>
A deep voice is calling her from the castle. She runs as fast as she can. The castle seems so close, still so unreachable. The doors open wide just before she touches them. Running up the stairs, the voice keeps calling her. Deeper. Louder. Like a drum into her ears.
<Come! Come, my child! Come!>
Opening the doors of the throne room, a light brighter than the whole land has blinded her for a second, she has to cover her face with her hands.
<We've been waiting for you.>
Two figures are standing in front of her. One is dressed in the purest white and his raven hair shines upon the sunlight. His eyes are as deep as eternity.
The other is dressed in a wonderful golden armour with red garments. His raven hair falling upon his shoulders in a ponytail. His eyes are so bright, still so deep, reflecting the moon and the stars.
<...Master?!>
A wide smile appears on Feldor's face, as bright as a summer day.
The figure on his side slowly steps down the throne, walking towards Ariel, his right hand on the sword, the most wonderful smile.
<My love!>
Opening his arms to her, more tears stain her fragile cheeks. Her mouth lets only one breathless word out.
<...Mefistofel...>
Running to his arms, Ariel swiftly lets her lips touch Mefistofel's. His body is not cold any more. It's so warm, full of life. She can hear his heartbeat.
They hold each other for a few seconds, or maybe for a few hours. Then he gently strokes her cheeks, wiping the tears away.
<It is time, my love. It is time for this war to finish. Time to stop killing, to stop fighting, to stop dying. I...we need your help.>
<What do you mean? We are dead, aren't we?>
His sweet smile could talk better than a thousand words.
<This is not Death. This is not Life. This is a dream, my love. You need to wake up.>
<They still need you, my child. They need your help. There is a lot to do.>
<Master?>
Mefistofel strokes her hair, looking into her eyes.
<Ariel. I'm coming back. There's still hope. Do not give in. I'm coming back.>
He gently lets her go and slowly he steps back. The separation hurt more than thousands of daggers in her heart.
<Mefistofel!>
She wants to stop him, hold him, but something is holding her back. Her feet are tons heavy and invisible hands hold her back.
<The time is coming, my love. The war is about to end. We will be together soon. I promised!>
<They need your help, child. The Truth is coming!>
Ariel is dragged away from her dream and they are getting further and further from her.
<No! Mefistofel! Master!>
<We will be together soon.>
-NO! COME BACK! MASTER! MEFISTOFEL!-
-ARIEL! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!-
-MASTER!!-
-WAKE UP!-
Ariel opens her eyes and Celandra's staring at her, scared and confused.
- Ariel! Wake up! Child...What happened? I thought you were dead...-
Ariel forces herself to get up, refusing help. She looks around, believing her dream is still on. But she recognises the walls of the castle. She recognises all the injured, all the dead, the desperation, the death.
More tears stain her cheek.
Just a dream. Just a fragile dream, caused by the weakness of her heart. That weakness is able to break her heart once again.
Celandra gets closer to her, questioning without any words, looking at her with a confused gaze.
-I was there, mother...I was there. Mefistofel was there...and the Master...they are coming back. They are coming back...-
Celandra is astonished by her words, surprised and unsure whether she believes her or believes madness.
-Child... Master won't come back. Mefistofel is lost. I can't feel him any longer. He may be anywhere or...nowhere. He may be...-
-NO! Don't say that! He's coming back, mother! He's coming back!-
-Child! What are you talking about? What have you seen?-
-I've seen... a wonderful land. The castle was marvellous. And everything was peace, light, beauty, and he was there! They were there! Mefistofel was there! The war is about to end! The Truth is coming! -
-The Truth?!-
Now is Ariel who's confused. Celandra seems to realize what those words mean but Ariel can't.
-The Truth is coming?!-
-...yes...mother! Do you know what that means?-
-...The Truth...-
Celandra seems petrified by those words. Like a thunder into her mind echoing again and again.
A pair of ghostly eyes go past Celandra's mind. They stare at her, they search inside her soul.
-"The truth is told by those who are dead. The dead hold it. What is true can't be shown among the living. The land of the young race is false. Therefore the truth is hidden among those who have seen it. Only the dead see the Truth!"-
-What are you saying?-
-This is what is told in my family. It's a story as old as us. We're the holders of the Truth of creation.
The truth is revealed to those who no more dwell among this world.
My parents revealed the Truth when they sacrificed themselves to save this world.
But this world is corrupted into his core. It can't be healed.
There is always battle, always death, always lies. That's way there is no hope.-
-Mother! There is still hope! Master...-
-MASTER IS DEAD!-
For the first time, Ariel sees her mother's eyes wet with tears and fury. A deep scar in her heart has opened once again and keeps bleeding.
Celandra cups Ariel's face in her hands.
-Nothing can bring him back...child. It was just a dream.-
Softly stroking Ariel's face, Celandra's eyes seem now thousands years old. Just an old woman who can't hold the burden of her age any longer.
-Go and have a rest, child. You are weary with battle. We all are.-
Lowering her hands from Ariel's face, she looks at her as a caring mother.
-Yes.....Mother.-
Ariel makes her way through the injuries of the hall.
Her eyes low, unwilling to accept that it was just a dream.
