Gerald seemed incapable of speaking as he watched Elsa with the sword at her throat. For some reason, it was utterly painful to see her in such a vulnerable position, with blood trickling down her throat, waiting for the blade to dig in to her neck.

Desperately, Gerald threw himself against the bars of his cell furiously. The only thing he succeeded in doing was bruising his shoulder painfully, and he hissed in pain. Yet he kept trying. It was nothing like the pain Elsa would be feeling if she got her throat cut. "If ye must take someone's life, take mine!" he yelled, knowing full-well it was his fault that she was in this predicament in the first place.

Oswald laughed. "Do you really think I won't?" he said. "But if there's anything more beautiful than a statue, it's pain. And I can see it burning you."

Gerald started swearing fervently, cursing Oswald and calling him choice names. He jerked on the bars of his cell desperately, trying to force it open when he knew it would never work. Bitter tears pricked at his eyes that he had to watch it happen.

The executioner tightened his grasp, and Elsa inhaled, what was likely to be her last breath. As if feeling the pain of it, Gerald's own throat tightened, and he found that he couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't stop watching the proud thief being killed ...

A spark of lightning shot down the stairs and somehow missed Elsa, instead striking her executioner. He screamed in pain, shoving Elsa away, not cutting open her throat. The thief scrambled away, a hand to her neck, gasping in surprise.

Gerald stared as Apollo and Morgan scrambled down the stairs together, Morgan's hands sparking with electricity. "This all seems very familiar, doesn't it, Baron Oswald?" the mage asked, his lips twitching up in a smirk.

"Blast you!" was Oswald's response, as he tried to run. The rotund man only made it a few paces before Morgan blasted him with electricity, knocking him unconscious.

"Elsa," Apollo said, running to her. He knelt beside her and examined her throat. "Are you hurt?"

She looked up at him angrily. "I have a dratted hole in my neck. How do you think I am?"

Apollo sighed, resting his fingers on the cut in her neck. "At least you're still touchy," he commented idly, and his fingers lit up with a soft white light. When he pulled his hand away, the cut had sealed, the only sign that it had ever been there, the blood still dried on her throat.

Elsa only said one thing after he pulled away. "I am not touchy."

Morgan interrupted them, cocking his head. "Someone's fighting upstairs," he said. "If they're fighting Oswald's men, I think we would probably be better suited helping them than fighting a moot point, Elsa."

Elsa shot him a glare as she finished picking the lock on Gerald's cell. The mercenary came out silently, and he touched her hand. He was not expecting her to jump like a scalded cat and stare at him, as if he'd done something completely wrong and unexpected. Oddly enough, neither of them spoke, though.

Instead, they both climbed the stairs after Morgan, who seemed eager for more action. Apollo followed silently, his face unreadable, as they all ran to the upper rooms. It turned out, however, that their aid was unneeded. Sir Juliette stood in the dining room, surrounded by the unconscious or dead bodies of Baron Oswald's guards.

She turned when she heard them, leveling a sword at them. When she recognized them, she lowered the weapon. "About time you all decided to show up," she said, cleaning the blade with a napkin from the table before sheathing it. "Were you planning on just letting me have all the fun?"

"That's not what I would qualify as 'fun'," Elsa put in.

Juliette looked at her, seeing the blood, but wisely refrained from commenting on it. "It's my form of fun," she said. Then she looked at Morgan. "So, you were here."

"Yes," Morgan answered, a spark jumping off his arm. Quickly, he slapped his arm and the sparking stopped. "And I'm very keen on getting out of here, if it's all the same to you lot."

"Aye," Gerald said. "Ye can't do nothing for the people who be frozen here?"

"Gerald Hunt, the famous mercenary, displaying compassion?" Apollo said. "That's surprising."

Gerald glared at him. "Would ye want to be frozen as a statue for the rest of yer life?" he retorted. "'Sides, it'll annoy Oswald when he wakes. Don't ye think?"

Apollo's lips twitched in a small smile. "Mm, you might be right about that," he agreed, glancing around. "Morgan?"

Morgan squeezed his eyes shut, and waves of heat seemed to radiate off him. The temperature of the building seemed to raise by a large amount, and even Gerald could see the ice starting to melt off the statues. That, at least, was a relief. Then the group ran out of the mansion, away from Oswald and his men.

. . . . . . . . . .

Elaine and Daren had been walking for hours. They had stopped briefly during the day and taken only an hour or two of rest. That had not been nearly long enough, but they kept going regardless. They had to get to Zor, before Damian found them. If he found them ... Elaine tried not to think about it.

Neither she nor Daren had said very much to each other. They had just walked together quietly, on the verge of exhaustion, supporting each other when they had to. Other than that, they just kept going, holding on to the other's hands.

Elaine drew comfort from Daren. She had spent most of her life relying on someone—whether it was her parents when she was a child, and Elsa as they get older—and now was no different. The prince's silent yet strong nature offered comfort and strength to her. Without it, she knew she would have dropped from exhaustion hours ago.

As the sun had set and darkness reigned over the forest, all the sounds of forest life had drifted away. It made things eerier, shadows thrown on the trees, and the nocturnal animals' snuffling and hooting sounding unusually loud to her. Each one made her jump practically a mile into the air, and Daren would squeeze her hand gently, as if to remind her that he was there.

After some time, Elaine spoke to him with a question that had been plaguing her for hours. "Daren ... why are you helping me?"

Daren frowned. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"I mean, you and I ... we're not supposed to get along," she said. "We're supposed to be—well, enemies, I guess. The prince and the thief were never intended to mix."

"Is that really what you believe?" Daren answered. "I never took you for the type to adhere to social norms."

"What?"

"I mean," Daren said patiently, "I never thought that you would think like everyone else. I don't care what you are. Thief or noble, you're a good person, Elaine. You're kind, gentle, and you would give everything for the people you love. I don't care if you're a thief or not. It doesn't make any difference to me."

"Really and truly?" Elaine asked, surprised by his answer.

Daren rested his free hand on his chest. "Really, truly, and honestly," he replied. "And nothing is ever going to change that. So don't you start talking about it like something will, alright?"

"Alright," Elaine said, admittedly much happier now. The exhaustion was fading away as they walked.

More silence reigned over them for a few minutes, but it was significantly less cold. Elaine no longer felt as much on edge as she had before, since she trusted Daren completely. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. She leaned on his arm as they walked, stumbling slightly. Maybe she wasn't as awake as she'd thought she was.

Something changed. The air around them became oppressive, cold. As if a moist fogbank had settled over them, smothering the warm air and enabling them to see their breath. Daren gripped Elaine's hand as tightly as he could, his face paling. "Run."

The thief and the prince started to run; they didn't make it but a few paces before a massive demon landed in front of them, slashing with its claws. Daren just barely managed to drag Elaine back to stop her from getting torn open by the talons. Elaine squeaked in a panic as Daren placed himself between her and the demon, reaching for a sword that wasn't there.

Elaine glanced behind them, and her nails dug into Daren's arm unintentionally. "Daren ..."

He backed up, until the demon was a few paces from them. Slowly, a group of men dressed in all black was surrounding them, encircling them and pinning the two in a circle. For a moment, all was silent as Daren tried to shield Elaine from them. Then the sound of slow clapping rang through the clearing. "Well done, Prince. Silvereye. I never thought you'd make it this far."

Daren turned himself and Elaine to face Damian, stepping through the ranks of his men. The dark wizard was still clapping in slow-motion. "Granted, I thought you were dead for a while, so this is certainly a pleasant surprise, wouldn't you agree?"

"Pleasant until I saw your ugly face," Daren said, pulling Elaine around him so he could shield her with his arms.

"Oh, now that's just not nice, Prince Daren," Damian answered, raising his eyebrows. "Particularly not when I hold your lives in my hands. Do you really think that you're going to escape me? You're surrounded, outnumbered, and unarmed. Begging is your only way to survive."

Daren looked at Elaine. However, she adopted a stubborn expression and raised her face to Damian, scowling. "I'm not begging you, because I know you're just going to take us prisoner anyway. You're the kind of person who wants a use for everything. Killing us out of hand won't get you anything, because we're useful to you. So we're not begging you for anything, right, Daren?"

"Of course not," Daren agreed, though he looked a little shame-faced. Elaine somehow knew that any begging he had done would have been for her life, and not his, and she forgave him for it. How could she not?

Damian was not as impressed as Elaine was, predictably. He stepped forward, raising his hand as if to strike Elaine, and Daren hugged her, moving her back away from him. Part of her was a little annoyed, but mostly, she was grateful he was there for her to lean on. She didn't know what she would do without him. Most likely, her previous speech would never have even left her lips.

Daren squeezed her shoulders. "You do not frighten us," he told Damian softly. "And you should know that you'll never win."

"Never?" Damian seemed amused by that. "You don't seem to realize how long 'never' truly is, Lightshield. I have two very important pieces to my triumph. It's only a matter of time until I get the rest." He stepped back and motioned to his men. "Bind them."

Although Daren's grip tightened, he could do nothing as Elaine was pulled out of his grasp, and both of them were tied up securely. As well as being bound, Damian also gagged them when Daren continued to verbally abuse the man, which didn't seem to impress Damian too much. Once secured, the two of them were picked up by Damian's men and carried away.

. . . . . . . . . .

After recovering their stolen belongings from Oswald's collection, Elsa and her companions had swiftly departed the odious man's home and found a dark alleyway to take cover in. The small group didn't dare light a fire; they'd left Oswald alive, and although Morgan had voiced the hope that the unfrozen statues would strangle the Baron, they didn't consider it worth the risk.

Now they all settled in within the safety of the alley. It was quiet and eerie, but at least there were no frozen statues. Elsa settled down against the wall, leaning her head back and trying to get as comfortable as possible. It wasn't as comfortable as she wanted, but she was more than used to sleeping in alleyways, on the ground.

Gerald sat down, laying his massive broadsword on the ground beside him. "Well, I weren't unhappy with leaving that place behind," he said, breaking the silence over them.

"Me neither," Elsa said, closing her eyes. "Thank you, by the way, you two. I rather like my head where it is."

"It was our pleasure," Morgan said, grinning. She could hear it without even opening her eyes. Apollo made a soft noise of assent, the only thing he added to his cousin's words.

Juliette started sharpening her blade idly. "I really want to get the stink of Oswald off me," she muttered. "I hated him before I knew what he did as a hobby. That collection was ..."

"Seriously creepy?" Morgan suggested.

"How did you defrost, anyway?" Elsa asked, opening her eyes to look at him with a trace of suspicion.

"Apollo helped me, why?" Morgan answered, looking at her blankly.

"Curiosity," Elsa said.

Morgan looked at her blankly for a few minutes before shrugging and leaning back, making himself comfortable. The others were doing the same thing, aside from Apollo, he remained standing, staring out at nothing, leaning on his white staff. Elsa wasn't sure she liked the blank expression on his face. "Apollo—?"

He looked over at her, his blue eyes seemingly miles away. Yet he still managed to give her the faintest hint of a smile. "Elsa?" he answered.

"You alright? You're not looking too well," Elsa said a tiny bit tentatively.

Apollo blinked. "I don't? I feel fine, Elaine."

That got everybody's attention, not just Elsa's. Even Gerald gave the healer an odd look. "That ain't Elaine," the mercenary said helpfully.

Morgan stood up, nervousness etched into his face. "Apollo, you need to sit down, I think," he began.

Apollo blinked slowly, as if in a trance. "Sit down ...?" He barely seemed aware of Gerald's words, which was unusual, considering the mercenary always managed to get a rise out of Apollo.

"Apollo!" Morgan said sharply.

That did nothing. After swaying on his feet for another few seconds, Apollo's eyes became even more glazed than they had been before. Another moment or two later, and he dropped, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, going limp against the ground.

"Apollo!" Juliette and Elsa exclaimed at the same time. Though Gerald and Morgan hung back, looking nervous, the two young women moved forward, kneeling down beside Apollo. His skin was burning hot to the touch, and he slept like a rock, his chest rising and falling slowly—too slowly. "Something's badly wrong," Elsa said, looking at Juliette.

"What?" Morgan hovered over their shoulders like a worried cloud. "What's wrong? What's happening to him?"

"If I knew, I'd tell you!" Elsa snapped back. Juliette simply put her fingers on Apollo's neck, feeling for his heartbeat. "Anything?"

"He's breathing, and his heartbeat is steady," Juliette answered, looking at Apollo's face. The healer was groaning low in his throat, and his forehead was hot to the touch. "But I don't understand what could have caused this. He was fine a few minutes ago ..."

"Well, he's obviously not fine now!" Morgan said in annoyance. "Can't anybody see that? I've known him my whole life and this has never happened before!"

"Never?" Elsa said, chewing on the side of her mouth as she stared at Apollo. "Then why is it happening now?"

"It may have something to do with his recent return by the Lightshield," Juliette said, the only calm one in the group. "I don't believe there's anything too worrying happening, at this point. As long as we all remain calm and don't lose our heads, I believe that we can make it through this situation just fine."

"Do you really think so?" Morgan snapped, and Elsa noticed red flickering in his stunning green eyes. "Or are you just saying it because you know there's nothing that can be done, and you're trying to raise my spirits? Because it's not working! I won't let anything happen to him!"

Juliette sighed at Morgan. "I'm not trying to do anything involving you," she said, with a hint of irritation. "I'm simply stating a fact. If you're intent on making this into a potentially fatal situation, go ahead. But as far as I can tell, none of us are healers, and there's nothing we can do for him at the moment anyway. We may as well let him sleep and see if there's any difference in the morning. If there is, and it's for the worse, then I'll go and find a healer for him. Does that satisfy you, Morgan Shadowbinder, or will you make a mountain out of a molehill?"

Morgan huffed and looked away. Elsa was relieved to see that the red had left his eyes—he seemed to be more normal, for the moment, at least. However, she didn't remember him being so on-edge before. He'd always been happy ... aside from when he had accused Apollo of betraying him. That had not been a particularly happy moment for him, Elsa supposed.

The group slowly settled down again as Apollo remained quiet, sleeping peacefully. Although Elsa made her way back over to the wall and curled up, to try and fall asleep, Morgan and Juliette remained by Apollo, Morgan watching his cousin fretfully. Juliette was likewise observing, but she didn't look nearly as nervous as Morgan did.

Elsa glanced over at Gerald, who was leaning back. His eyes were closed, and she wasn't sure if he was awake or not. After a few seconds, he cracked open one eye, grinned at her, and closed it again. Sighing at her peculiar companion, Elsa sighed and rolled over on her back.

Just as she was starting to drift off to sleep, a scream of utter fear tore through the silence of the night. Elsa sat bolt upright, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, her heart beating wildly in her chest. As she looked around, she saw Morgan staring at Apollo in utter horror. Juliette was pressing down on Apollo's shoulder, looking as if she was straining. "What's going on?" Elsa exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Gerald had grabbed his sword as he scrambled to his feet, but he visibly relaxed when he realized there were no actual enemies around. His clear gaze focused on Apollo. "Were that unearthly sound him?" he said, incredulous.

"Yes," Juliette answered, grunting as one of Apollo's flailing hands slammed against her nose. Immediately, blood began to drip down. "Any time you want to hold down his other arm would be great, Hunt."

Gerald immediately scrambled forward, pushing down on Apollo's flailing arm. "Blimey! He be a lot stronger than I originally thought he were."

"Then stop complaining and keep holding him down," Juliette snapped back at him.

Elsa moved forward just as Apollo's eyes snapped open, looking right at her. "No—no, stop, don't hurt her, please, she's an innocent!" he howled, thrashing around. "Stop it!"

"Her?" Juliette asked.

Morgan shook his head in confusion. Apollo looked back at Elsa, his eyes haunted and terrified. "Don't torture Elsa, please, I'll do anything, don't hurt her, she didn't do anything!" he yelled.

"Me?" Elsa's eyes widened even further, if that was possible. "He thinks I'm being hurt?"

"Has your cousin ever shown any signs of foresight before, Morgan?" Juliette inquired urgently, still trying to hold down the struggling Apollo. "Because I'm fairly certain at this point that he thinks he is."

"That's not possible, he's not a seer," Morgan protested.

Juliette made no answer, as Apollo gave a deep shuddering sigh and slumped back again, falling back asleep. Elsa hugged her arms to her chest, feeling cold for some reason. She slumped back against the wall once more, chewing her lip in concern. "Are you sure it's impossible?"

Morgan dragged his fingers through his tousled hair. "I'd say positively that it isn't, but I just don't know anymore!" he burst out. "If he is seeing visions, then it must have had something to do with the Lightshield saving his life."

Elsa put her head in her arms. "So you're saying that someone is going to torture me, then," she said. "Wonderful. Just ... wonderful."

"Oi, if ye think we're just gonna let that happen to ye, then ye be a fool," Gerald said flatly. "Nobody's going to hurt ye, Elsa. That be what friends are for, aye?"

Elsa laughed with a hint of bitterness in her voice. "I don't have friends. None of you would want anything to do with me if the world wasn't in danger."

Juliette sighed, sitting back on her haunches. "We could argue about that all night long," she said irritably. "But if you want to continue on that thought process, then know that we need you to keep going."

Elsa made a face at Juliette and chose not to respond to that, since she couldn't find a suitable response. Apollo started groaning again, and Elsa saw his fingers illuminate with a golden light. It did have something to do with the Lightshield, she saw it then, bright as the light shining on his fingertips. Which meant that none of them would be able to tell what was going on.

"I have to get Cora," she said, and stood up.

"I thought ye hated her?" Gerald asked with a tiny little frown. It was the most annoying tiny little frown Elsa had ever seen, mostly because he had a very good point.

"I do hate her," Elsa answered. "But this could be dangerous, and she's connected to the Lightshield too, right? If anybody is going to know what's going on, it'll be her. Besides, she owes me, big-time, for manufacturing the plan to murder my sister."

"For doing what?" Morgan's face turned red, as if he was seriously considering hurling a fireball at the castle in the hopes of roasting Cora.

"I'll explain," Juliette told Elsa. "You go and find the Queen. Explain everything to her, Elsa. She can't help if she doesn't know the whole story."

Elsa nodded a little irritably, before turning on her heel. As she made her way to the end of the alley, Gerald spoke up. "Ye want some company, love?"

At that, she turned back to him and shook her head. "Not this time," she answered. "This time, I work alone." And with that, she turned and continued on her way, leaving Gerald with a sullen look on his face.

. . . . . . . . . .

We all sat at the table, staring at each other in silence. The latest attack, so close to our defenses at Zor, had left us all shaken, I could see it. Elbert Silvereye was stabbing his knife into my table and pulling it out again and again, which under normal circumstances would have driven me half-mad. Serra Lightbringer was tugging at her fingernails absently, while Lloyd Shadowbinder sat beside her, tapping his fingertips against the table. Only I and Owen remained still, though I didn't move for the sole reason that my injuries from the earlier attack still ached.

Unsurprisingly, it was Elbert who broke the silence. "Princess Corrin, are you recovering well?" was his first question. It was diplomatic enough, I supposed.

I inclined my head to him, my blonde curls slipping past my ear. "Yes, thank you, Elbert. I'm doing quite well, though I would be far worse if it hadn't been for my brother."

"It would have been far better if you hadn't wandered away from Zor at all," Lloyd noted, pointing at me accusingly. "Your magic is protecting our citizens, milady. Was it really wise for you to risk your life to admire the view?"

I tried not to get annoyed with him. Though, if I was being completely honest, he drove me mad sometimes. Just sometimes, I felt the strong temptation to tell him that if he really wanted the throne, he could have it. I never did, though, since I honestly hoped he wouldn't take me up on that offer. "It was not, and I apologize for the worry I caused," was all I said, albeit stiffly.

"It doesn't matter how the attack came about," Serra put in, with her usually quiet tone. Her blue eyes flicked up to me; her aid was always appreciated. "It only matters that it did, and something must be done about it. The demons are growing bolder and more powerful. If this continues, we will soon be overwhelmed."

"We fight to the very end," Elbert said, his silver gaze turning to Owen, who usually sided with him. "What else can we do? Surrender?"

"Not surrender," Serra rebuked him gently. "But this fight will not be won with swords alone."

"Then what will it be won with?" Lloyd asked rebelliously, his one red eye flicking around to each of us in turn. His green eye rolled to the sky, as if asking for patience. It was amusing, how he was doing what I so often wanted to do with him.

"Magic." Serra formed a glowing golden ball in her fingers before flicking it absently at Lloyd. "The demons use the dark wizards for their dark magic, correct? What if we used our magic—light magic—to combat it?"

Light magic ... it was a concept that I too had considered, but my magic was unstable at best. Owen seemed to sense my doubts and spoke up for the first time. "Is it wise? Magic is not a force that is easily controlled, Serra."

Serra glared at her fiancé, which normally would have been good-natured. Now she seemed to be actually angry at him for the question. "Then we have to control it!" she said, slapping her palms against the table. "That's the only way we're going to beat the demons. Unless you're all satisfied with letting them tear us and our loved ones to shreds, then this is the only thing that we can do!"

I didn't protest. I knew that Serra was right, and the others seemed to agree, albeit some of them reluctantly. Elbert never liked to be faced with a problem that couldn't be solved with a sword to the face, and Lloyd used dark and neutral magic, not light. Owen glanced at me, as if searching for my approval. I nodded at him, and he sighed. "What do you suggest we do, then? How do we learn to control it?"

"It's simple," Serra said. "We don't use it at all. We channel our power into an artifact that will use the power for us. That way, we won't have to worry about our control, or perhaps a lack of control."

"An artifact?" I questioned her.

"Yes," she said. "An artifact. One of immense power, light magic, that will cast a warm glow over Vordelle. We can use it to banish the demons from this world and keep us all safe. It will be a key, but it will also be our defense."

"And what shall this all-powerful artifact be?" Lloyd inquired with heavy sarcasm, rolling his eyes.

Serra flicked more golden light at him, glaring. I had never seen the healer so serious about anything in my whole life. "It shall be called the Lightshield, after our rulers," she answered, and stood up, leaving the room.

=a.jQuery