Chapter 22: Lovers Reunited

There’s something else you should know. He told me that you would one day befriend the son of the man that defeated me. The son of the Conjurer. You will have to decide if and when to kill him.

Mozar couldn’t remember feeling so incensed. Just when he was on the verge of finally ridding himself of that fool, Humphrey, some screaming storm interrupts his well-earned kill. That disreputable idiot tricked him into nearly ... But no, he couldn’t think about that. He had left that life behind. He didn’t deserve it. The only thing that was his by right was the hunt, and he refused to be denied his prize any longer.

Mozar literally foamed at the mouth in rage as he chased down Humphrey on all fours. Occasionally, some strange black flames would appear and obscure his path, but he always felt them coming through the vibrations they made in the earth, and dodged accordingly. Still, they did slow his progress tremendously, making the chase all the more frustrating. Mozar was not adverse at the idea of a good chase, but considering that this prey had already been caught, and was only free to run now due to chance, irked the wolf to no end.

Occasionally, Mozar still heard the distant voice of his old classmate, Kormal, once again trying to pierce his psyche. Mozar paid the voice no heed, suppressing the telepathic intrusion into his subconscious as he learned to do years ago. Though Mozar could not use telepathy, he had trained his mind to withstand even that of the strongest of telepaths. He had to in order to keep up with Kormal in those days. Though their rivalry had been enjoyable, Mozar had put that part of his life behind him as well. After the way Kormal and the others had betrayed his mentor, he promised he would never trust any of them again. True, this current job was for the Ministry of Fire, but only as a professional courtesy. Mozar had planned to complete this job like any other. Turn in Humphrey then get paid and leave, no questions asked. Of course, that was before Humphrey had insulted him.

Though Humphrey’s hands had yet to fully regenerate, his legs still worked fairly well. Even worse, he channeled a small stream of electricity to his feet, making him faster, more agile, and able to run along walls and ceilings using magnetism. His boots were still part of his Psionic Armor, so they aided the process in a feat similar to gravity boots. Mozar knew this trick well, but all he needed to replicate the effects were his claws which could pierce most substances.

The two cleared a crumbling hallway just before it dissolved into black flames while running along the wall vertically, and eventually, sprinting upside down along the ceiling as well.

As they jumped from the burning building just before black flames consumed it completely, both twisted in midair to return upright as the chase resumed in earnest. Humphrey attempted to slow Mozar down by leaving traces of his psions on tiles that he stepped on, which would become charged with electricity when the Werewolf got near. However, Mozar saw through these petty diversions just as he had seen through Humphrey’s pathetic attempts to disguise his ultimate attack while he charged it up. For a fully realized Werewolf like Mozar with all his senses attuned, there were very few things in the universe that could surprise him.

Mozar tired of the chase. He no longer had enough stored Sun Gems in his Fang Staff to fire the plasma beams. He’d have to recharge the staff with one of his spares soon. But the Fang Staff was not his only long-ranged attack. He hated having to resort to it, but figured a small burst wouldn’t be too odious. Sucking in as much air as he could take, Mozar prepared one of the few Elemental attacks that he knew from his time training at the Ministry of Fire all those years ago.

Werewolves naturally possessed a greater lung capacity than most for the purpose of howling. It was how their ancient packs had communicated to one another from across their home planet countless generations ago before they acquired space travel, and the accursed means of easy communication via technology. This made many Werewolves ideal for mastering a certain Elemental technique known only to the Screamers, one that manipulated sound. Normally, a Werewolf’s howl was just meant for communication, but when psions were focused into the throat, it became something else entirely.

When he acquired enough air in his lungs, Mozar opened his mouth just the tiniest amount for a small, compressed blast of sound that shot out of his snout with the force of a jet engine breaking the sound barrier. A high-pitched whistle pierced the air as the vibration of sound smashed into Humphrey, throwing him off his feet and throwing up debris and rocks from the impact. Mozar had aimed for Humphrey’s feet, hoping to take them both off with the first shot, but unfortunately, his aim was off, and he only managed to sever one leg.

Humphrey cried out as he fell. From the ground, he tried to reach his severed leg and reattach it even though it lay too far away. Humphrey’s regeneration was about the same as Mozar’s, and the Werewolf knew from experience how very difficult it was to grow back an entire leg, not to mention how very painful.

Mozar coughed and hacked from using the technique, massaging his throat despite the fact that he kept himself from using its full power. If he used the full force of the howl, it would’ve left his voice-box completely destroyed, unable to regenerate for at least an hour. Still, despite the pain, a grim sense of satisfaction washed over him after witnessing Humphrey’s dismay.

“You son of a bitch!” screamed an outraged Humphrey with tears streaming down his dirt-covered face.

“Son of a bitch,” mused Mozar. “That goes without saying considering that this one is a from a canine species.”

“You psychotic, sick bastard!”

As Humphrey scrambled away, his hands still nothing but fleshy stumps at this point, Mozar sneered down at the man. “Accept your fate with some dignity, Humphrey. Even livestock mewl less than you do.”

Humphrey clenched his teeth and sent one last pathetic spark of lightning into Mozar’s chest from one of his stump hands. Mozar took the assault with a quiet grunt of pain and an annoyed growl. He already knew the small lightning charge wouldn’t be enough to cause much harm, but that’s not why he refused to dodge. He took the attack just to make him a little angrier so that he could truly enjoy ripping this coward apart.

Licking his chops, Mozar went in for the kill, but a wall of green energy appeared in front of the cringing Humphrey. The forcefield was an all too familiar technique to Mozar. He spun around to see Kormal with his insufferable bulbous head, black eyes, and gray skin.

“This is none of your business, you spineless rabbit! Leave now, or you’re next!”

“Actually, it is my business, Mozar,” explained the Sage coolly. Mozar always hated his collected mannerisms, like he truly thought himself smarter than everyone. “You would know that if you listened to the mental messages I have been sending you. Though, your mind is so closed off nowadays, I doubt a brick could get through that thick head of yours.”

Mozar snarled, advancing on the Sage. He was in no mood for Kormal’s wordplay. “There’s nothing you have to say that this one is interested in hearing! Now get out of here, you sniveling, scheming-”

Mozar saw a flash of red light as a flaming fist made contact with his face, sending him spiraling to the ground. Mozar had been so angry, he hadn’t seen the attack coming. Either that, or the person in question moved faster than any prey he’d ever known. Mozar massaged his already aching jaw as he came to his feet and perceived the person who struck him. It was none other than the half-breed child he had mistakenly fought when Humphrey had tricked him. There was a decidedly more dangerous light in the boy’s eyes as if he’d grown twenty years in the short time since their last meeting. His stance was also more mature and well-guarded as he brandished his sword and gauntlet in front of him. Could this really be that same boy that fell so easily to Mozar’s jaws?

“You will not lay a claw on my father!” said the half-breed in a dangerously low voice.

Mozar’s mind went blank as he stared dumbfounded. “What?! Father?! Kormal ... that’s ... what?!”

The boy shook his head, whispering to himself in a voice that was too quiet for most to hear, but not Mozar. “Give me a little warning next time you take over.”

The half-breed’s eyes focused on Mozar once again, furrowing in anger, but somehow a different sort of anger than earlier. “Consider that payback for taking a chunk out of my neck earlier. Incidentally, want to explain what that was all about? Usually, I fight people after I get to know them long enough to tick them off!”

Mozar held his snout, growling softly. Interruption after interruption!

“This one’s encounter with you was unfortunate. It was a mistake hunting you. You were not this one’s prey. But that one is!” Mozar pointed a clawed finger at Humphrey who still struggled to stand upright while inside Kormal’s barrier. “This one will compensate you for your injuries at a later date, half-breed. But right now, you would be wise not to interfere in this hunt!”

“And you would be wise to listen to our big, headed friend here,” interjected a deep, powerful voice of a newcomer. “We need that cur alive, and we haven’t the time to exchange pleasantries.

A Saurian stepped forward. It had been a long time since Mozar had hunted a Saurian. He briefly considered attacking the Raptor Warrior out of principle, but then stopped when he noticed the Saurian’s companions. There was another young Elemental, a girl with curly brown hair that seemed somewhat familiar to Mozar. Accompanying the company was a young Dragon as well with golden scales. Fire danced between his jaws, already prepared to rain fire down on Mozar as he hovered in midair while beating his strong wings. But they were not the reason that Mozar froze in his tracks.

She had come as well. The young Werewolf with the familiar scent. The scent that terrified Mozar. Terrified him more than any prey or predator that he had ever faced.

The young Werewolf with the yellow fur coat snarled at him, her claws extended at her sides. She had arranged the fur around her head in a style reminiscent of the hairstyles sported by adolescent human females. If one looked at her from the back of her head, she might appear to be a blonde human girl with mid-length hair that went down nearly to her shoulders, discounting the long ears and tail of course.

Her appearance both repulsed and shamed Mozar. Repulsed him for the ways that human society had already corrupted her. Shamed him because of his part in bringing her to this life. She should’ve been brought up properly in a pack, letting her fur grow wild and free like it was meant to. She would’ve been ... if not for him.

“I should arrest you for attacking Ryan, but Kormal insists that you’re needed for the mission,” said the young Werewolf. “Lucky you.”

Mozar, who found himself near the point of shock, slowly regained some composure. “Mission? What ... what mission?”

Kormal stepped forward, placing a hand on Mozar’s shoulder. Normally, someone touching Mozar like that would quickly find their hand missing, but Mozar was so dumbfounded by the young Werewolf’s presence that he hardly noticed.

“A rescue mission,” said Kormal quietly. “The Children of Destiny are in danger. Even you can find reason to be concerned by that.”

Mozar, unable to focus on Kormal’s arguments and his racing thoughts concerning the adolescent Werewolf, gave a loud huff. “And that one has information that will help you find them, yes?”

“You always were quick, Mozar. At least in some things. I just need a few moments to peer into his thoughts, and then he’s all yours.”

Mozar growled softly, but found he could not muster the strength to refuse. He felt dead inside. Not even the hunt could liven him up at this point.

Mozar nodded, and Kormal released the barrier with a wave of his hand.

As soon as the barrier was down, Humphrey – who had nondescriptly managed to reattach his missing leg – made a run for it, but Mozar saw that coming a mile away. With a thrust of his wrist, he sent his golden spear flying into Humphrey’s shoulder. The spear extended to its full length when it pierced Humphrey’s flesh, pinning him to the ground as it stabbed the earth on the other side of the arm. Humphrey screamed again, and Mozar allowed himself to feel that brief sadistic rush of pleasure. He knew it was sadistic, but he had long come to accept certain savage aspects about his personality. Part of it was just from being a Werewolf, but part of it came from his own corrupted soul. If there was anything Mozar’s mentor had engraved in him, it was a supreme sense of self-awareness.

Mozar smiled briefly as everyone stared at him in shock, too frightened to move. The Werewolf shrugged. “You wanted to interrogate him, right? It’s easier to talk with someone when they can’t run away. At least, that’s how it usually works for this one.”

Amelia found it. At long last, she found a hangar, and miraculously, it was still intact. Most of the transports were gone, no doubt being used for search and rescue. But there were still a couple. The Light Monks and the Fire Elementals were running rampant, too busy to worry about security, making the commandeer of any one of those vehicles a simple matter. Yet another bonus of all the chaos.

Bonus of the chaos! Do you even hear yourself? All this chaos is from the deaths of thousands of people! People you had a hand in killing! And you don’t feel the slightest bit responsible for their fates, or the fates of everyone else on this moon?

Amelia, or rather the Mage side of her that had taken over the moment that the Light Wielder had mentioned Cornelius, stuffed down that naïve voice of compassion. Compassion had gained her nothing in life. Compassion didn’t help her survive her torment among the Mages. Compassion didn’t allow her to soar through their ranks to a position of power. And compassion certainly wouldn’t help her get away, and she would get away. Away from everybody.

Sure, she’d have to face the Lord Corrupter’s wrath eventually, but not for a long time to come. She was still a Fourth-Level Elemental after all, at least technically. She would live for hundreds of years yet, and she intended to enjoy every one of those years in bliss as her enemies tore each other apart in this pointless conflict. After all, a new Reckoning was just around the horizon. The newest vessel of the Lord Corrupter was said to be the most cunning and ruthless of any Dark Dragon Lord that came before. Surely a being like that would keep the Light Wielder too busy to notice a little failed Mage. Surely both of them were far too powerful and far too preoccupied to worry about her once she disappeared. And if there was anything that Amelia knew how to do, it was disappear. Cornelius had taught her after all. They talked about it doing together for years before he ... before he...

Before he left me. And I don’t blame him in the slightest.

Once again, Amelia had to stifle that sentimentality. Now wasn’t the time. Amelia hid behind a pillar in the shadows, and only peeked out to check for any guards in sight. The only things in the chambers were a couple of transports and a stray black flame that popped up from the floor here and there, but not enough as of yet to cause worry. She was just about to make a dash for it when she heard footsteps and talking from the corridor behind her.

Using a Mage technique, Amelia pulsed the Shadows in around her, making her disappear from the naked eye. This technique could even mask her presence from sensory-types, but only if she stayed perfectly still and held her breath. It could most likely be detected by high-level Monks, but only if they were steadily using Light Elemency. Hopefully, there would be only Elementals in the entourage.

Amelia almost forgot herself and let out a sigh of relief, but only for an instant. She quickly noticed that Hannah Lioness herself was in the group, the highest level Priestess among all the Monks. And worse, she was speaking in hushed tones with none other than the Minister of Fire.

Certain they would notice her at any moment, Amelia almost started praying, but quickly realized that she no longer had any God she could pray to. Neither the Lord Caretaker nor the Lord Corruptor would accept any kind of request from the likes of her now. So she just closed her eyes and listened, all the while maintaining her shroud of shadows around her.

“How much time, Lanchester?” asked the Fire Minister as they walked, heading for the transports. Absently, Amelia wondered if they were going to take both transports, but realized how little that would matter if they noticed her.

“According to my readings, maybe a few hours,” said a pudgy little man in a lab coat with several droids buzzing around him while he typed at a holographic keyboard. “Probably less at the rate of degradation. There may be less fires on the surface, but the internal damage to the shifting plates cannot be overstated. Even if the moon doesn’t blow up, the Light Monks will need to make some serious restructuring to maintain integral stability throughout the planetoid.”

“We’re prepared to do that, but let’s just try to do our best to make sure we still have a moon when all this is over.”

“I might be able to help a wee bit in that department,” boomed a cheerful voice belonging to a big, brown Ogre with a long mane of dazzling red hair that went down his chubby frame. “If’n you lot don’t mind a few suggestions. I’ve always fancied building a moon, ya ken. Just never got around to it.”

As they stepped up to one of the transports, Saria shook her head back and forth in dismay while holding her hands behind her back. “I still can’t believe I let that old geezer talk me into sending those children on yet another suicide mission. Surely there’s got to be others who can handle this assignment.”

The Priestess gave the Fire Minister a stern look. “If Zanderius chose the Grim Team, it’s only because they have the best chance of completing this mission and coming out alive. You should learn to...”

The Fire Minister waved her hand, “Trust him. Yes, I know. I know. He’s the one who can see the future better than any of our Seers, apparently. But for pity’s sake, Ryan was one of the children we’re supposed to be protecting. How is sending him into danger going to help anything?”

“He only thinks we’re sending him into danger. Otherwise, he would’ve found a way to get into danger whether we wanted him or not,” said Hannah leaning in closer. “Torsha has orders from me to prevent him from boarding the enemy vessel. He’ll only accompany the team until they get the information from Humphrey. After that, she’ll render him unconscious and get him off the moon with the rest of the evacuees.”

Amelia stifled a gasp, losing her shroud of darkness ever so briefly before reengaging the technique and sucking in her breath. Cornelius really is here! And what’s more, he’s being held by them! He’s got some information they need! The Light Wielder asked that I see him before I leave! But how can I see him if he’s been captured?

Saria scoffed, looking at Hannah with hands on her hips. “Did Zanderius tell you to do that?”

Hannah looked away, clearing her throat uncomfortably. “Well, no. Not really. But I feel like it’s implied. I mean, the whole point of our presence is to protect the Three Children of Destiny. Ryan is one of those children. Once we find a way to save the other two, there’s no need to put him in danger.”

“But didn’t Zand say that for the mission to succeed, they would need every member of the Grim Team, including Ryan? I’m sorry, Hannah, but I think you’re playing favorites. Isn’t that kind of thing frowned upon in your religion?” The last part she said with a slight smirk in her voice, one that sent the Priestess fuming in a way that Amelia could’ve never imagined in a woman of her stature.

“As if you know enough about our practices to make any valid judgement. Look, what’s done is done. Let’s just put our faith in Squad 99. They’ve come through for us before.”

Before Saria could debate further, Lanchester was suddenly abuzz. “Saria! We got multiple incursions in sectors 34 and 35! Larger than previously predicted energy fluctuations! Those areas are still undergoing relocation!”

Saria growled in a way that was almost animalistic. Orange flames enveloped her body and her eyes glowed orange. “I’ll fly ahead and hold back the black flames! You pick up any stragglers you can!”
“On it, lass!” acknowledged the Ogre, already climbing in the cockpit as the others walked up the ramp to the passenger seats of the transports.

The Fire Minister then actually flew out of the hangar trailing orange smoke as the Monastery ship revved up moments later and followed.

That left one ship in the hangar. Amelia released the shadows around her, letting out a long breath. She’d done it! Somehow, neither the Fire Minister, nor the Light Priestess had noticed her. She didn’t know what their talk of Children of Destiny could be about, but that hardly mattered. She could go wherever she wanted. Be whoever she wanted to be.

But what about Cornelius? What will he become? asked her compassionate side.

Amelia gasped. She remembered what the Light Wielder had said. She asked for a way to help those souls she had helped torture. Could he have meant Cornelius as well? He told her that she had to choose to do this ... that it would test her to the very core of her being. He said she would know what the request was when she found Cornelius.

Then she felt it. The feeling came as a dim, rhythmic pulsing. She felt a part of herself ... a part of her soul that she had left with Humphrey in those rare moments when she could be alone without anyone watching, when she could help soothe the wounds she inflicted on him and explain why those wounds were necessary. She had left a bit of her psions inside him during those moments, and he within her. Being planets apart, they were always too far to sense each other from the stars. But now they were on the same moon at the same time. Could it really be that simple?

“So, why are we doing this again?” whispered Ryan while he and the others gathered at a distance and kept watch for any signs of black flames.

At the same time, Kormal and Mozar held the prisoner down as the Sage placed two hands to the man’s head. Kormal closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the Mystic’s skin while the prisoner wore a blank expression, his eyes going back into his skull. Kevla explained that obtaining information from an unwilling mind was difficult, especially if that mind had been trained to withstand telepathic intrusion which was no doubt the case for a Mystic.

Torsha raised her eyebrow. “You really weren’t paying attention?”

“I don’t pay attention to a lot of things I should, so sue me. Just paraphrase and get me up to speed. I need a distraction to keep my mind off Éclair. Otherwise, I’m gonna go crazy just standing here watching the Sage dude play pattycake with a guy who’s apparently some Mystic that’s been trying to kill me.”

Torsha rolled her eyes, but allowed a small smirk on her canine lips. “So, this guy-”

“He’s a Mystic that’s been working with those masked chaps that took Éclair and Leon,” chipped in Tork excitedly. The Dragon tapped his index claw against an exposed fang in thought, as if trying to recall something important. “I believe they were called the Fallen. That’s right, yes, pumpkin?”

‘Pumpkin’, who in this case was Torsha, looked up at Tork with a wry smile. “Yes, that’s right, pudding. I was going to mention that before the assist.”

Tork looked away bashfully. “I’m terribly sorry, dumpling. I was just trying to be ... well, more assertive like you’ve always said I should be. I guess I chose a bad time to try it out.”

Torsha shook her head vigorously, waving her hands up at Tork. “No, no, no. It’s okay, sweetie pie. Really. I was just surprised, that’s all. You go ahead and explain things to Ryan. Caretaker knows, I’ve tried teaching this guy enough to last a lifetime. Better to have someone else bang their head against that brick wall for a change.”

The Dragon blushed incessantly, his big, scaly ears perking up as high as they would go. “Oh, well. If you insist, darling. Anything for my pumpkin.”

Ryan groaned inwardly. Could do without all the pet names.

Me too, agreed Kevla in his head.

“So, the plan, from someone whose name I can’t recall for some reason,” said Tork, his face scrunching up in confusion.

Torsha waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be silly, Tork. His name was...” The Werewolf’s face went blank. “Huh! Darn it! For the life of me, I can’t remember who told us the dang plan. Can you, Ryan?”

Ryan scoffed. “Of course I can. It was ... uh...”

That’s funny. Kormal mentioned a name when he told us the plan, but I can’t remember whose name. But I remember that the name sounded familiar to me. Do you remember that name, Kevla?

No. I don’t, said Kevla incredulously. Either all four of us are the most forgetful people ever, or ... or there’s a very powerful telepath that erased the name from our memories. I’m a telepath, so it would be near impossible for another to do something like that to me. Even my father couldn’t pull that off, at least not without me being aware of it.

Ryan recalled more than a few instances in which something like that happened to him. Every time he tried to think of Éclair’s last name, for instance, the one she told him when they met in the forest. Honestly, since Éclair herself had no recollection of the incident, he was starting to wonder if the whole thing had been a dream. But if telepathy was involved, then anything he remembered could be a fabrication. He understood that after meeting Kevla.

Come to think of it, Grafael said that someone powerful put a psionic spell on Éclair so that no one would remember her last name is Hamashe. Wait! I can remember her real name since Grafael told me. The one ... the one who put the spell on her. I think it was ... it was that old guy that I met a couple times in my dreams. His name was...

“Well, I’m sure it’s not important,” dismissed Tork.

Another side effect of these kind of things, Ryan noticed, was how people just filled in the gaps by dismissing the phenomenon entirely. For the longest time, that’s how he himself had reacted. He’d have to give this all more thought after he got Éclair and Leon back.

“But, basically, the Fallen’s ship is the source of the rift that is consuming the moon,” continued the Dragon. “Our mission is to find the two of them and destroy the enemy vessel as we leave, thus closing the rift and saving Galsin.”

“And the Mystic ... uh ... Humphrey, I think his name was. What’s he have to do with it?”

“Kormal says that Humphrey has hidden information that can lead us to the enemy’s ship. He helped them infiltrate this facility after all. At least, when it was still intact.”

Ryan clapped his hands together, creating some friction as he rubbed his palms in anticipation. “Awesome sauce! A tangible goal I can get on board with. As long as it leads to Éclair, I won’t complain. Oh! And Leon too, I guess. He still needs to pay his half of the rent anyway.”

Stop acting tough. You know you like him more than you let on, said Kevla mischievously.

He’s the competition for the most awesome girl ever! I can’t afford to like the competition ... that much.

Ryan then glanced over at Grafael, who had become stoic once again, refusing to look Ryan in the eye. “Don’t worry, Grafy. We’ll get her back. We always do.”

“I know we will, little brother. I know,” the Saurian replied softly without facing Ryan.

For some reason, Torsha let loose a soft growl in Grafael’s direction. “Doesn’t make what you tried to pull any less reprehensible.”

“Wait! What?” Ryan asked, looking between the Werewolf and the Earth Dragon. “Did something happen between you two when I went all ... uh ... mental breakdowny?”

Torsha sniffed and shook her head. “It’s not for me to say. I suppose I owe him that much at least considering how much he’s helped all of us so far.”

Ryan looked between Torsha and Grafael, but neither one said anymore on the subject, nor deigned to look at each other for that matter. Thinking it best to drop the issue for now, Ryan turned his attention back to the interrogation. The Sage, the Werewolf, and the Mystic remained in a separate huddle from the others. The three had literally stayed in the exact same position as when they first started. Probably ten minutes had already passed, and the two hadn’t said a word a moved a muscle.