His earring, a silver owl, swung from side to side as the man in red began the final preparations for the experiment. His companion, many miles away, watched as he worked, blood flowing freely from her index finger as she worked on her own spell. One room was pure white, orderly stacks of formulas and ingredients filling shelves. Another room was dark, encircled by cobblestone walls, papers strewn messily on the dark, moist ground. [b]“The major players are gone then,”[/b] he asked, even though his tone was more of a statement. [b]“Indeed. The Sage and her assistant have left Cykes,”[/b] she responded, digging her thumb into her injury a little more, [b]“and the majority of the guards have been temporarily relocated elsewhere.” “And for the Sword Arts user and the Tainted Crystala?”[/b] She smiled. [b]“They've been wrapped up in their own problems. An associate of mine has quite graciously aided me in that.” “Oh? On your request?” “Of her own volition.”[/b] He dropped the final ingredient in the double helix summoning circle, and asked, [b]“Shall we begin?”[/b] The ace of spades tumbled through the air, falling into the center, the intersection that connected the separate circles together. --- He seethed. It had already been more than a few days since that incident, since that death, but it still felt like it happened right before his eyes. Ah, it burned. He burned on the inside at all the madness and chaos that swirled in his mind. Why couldn't they leave him alone? Why was it that others always wanted him to do things? Was it too much to ask for peace when living like this? His magic was his own, so why would other people want it? It was a crushing, swallowing, devouring, nightmarish, repulsive thing. He never wanted this. He never asked for this. Sure, it was a convenient magic, but he would be fine with living worse if he could live in peace. But he couldn't, and now everything was in pieces. Bloody, gory, senseless, maddening pieces. Ah, burning down that village wasn't enough. The amount of blood that had to be paid back to the world wasn't enough. Not after losing himself. Not after losing his family. But until that bitch gives him a signal, until he gets all the power that he was promised in order to start his rampage, he'll wait. He'll wait until he can morph and feast. Then everything can begin again. --- She was still sleeping, ever since that day at the crater. Most of the unit had been annihilated, and their leader was still unconscious, with no sign of whether she would be able to recover from her injuries. Her face just looked so pale, something that was only accentuated further by her rust red hair. A small pot of purple flowers bloomed on the bedside table, wisterias and violets growing in the eternal spring of Astopol. It was sunny outside, a fresh wind blowing into the hospital room. It would have been peaceful, if she was just taking a nap, if she wasn't wrapped in bandages. It hurt him to see her like this. Sarier clenched his fists as he sat on the well-worn stool, head down. [i]Why can't you wake up, Mariwen?[/i] Unnoticed, peeking from behind the door, Frett Soutcrux made an odd expression on her face at that sight. [i]So that's why, huh?[/i] --- [b]“So that's how it is,”[/b] murmured Mirelle Keep. [b]“Yes, yes it is,”[/b] replied Aiv. [b]“And you think that I'll just do nothing about it?” “No, but East requests that, as a friend, you wait a little longer. She'll need some more time for the preparations.” “So the vampires will be making their move now?” “Luna Flina will be against it, but the rest, they would welcome such entertainment.” “I see.” “I'll take my leave now. Good bye, Mirelle.” “Don't assume I've forgiven what you did to my little sister, Aiv.” “I don't expect an apology.”[/b]