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"Riding the Wave" is the sixth episode of Season Two and the eighteenth episode of The Demon's Light.

Synopsis

The Port City Eight find refuge with old friends of Wen Li. The Search Party become involved with the affairs of an Aiolan town.

Narrative

Part I

Blackmore rested his elbows against the bow of the ferry as he took a drag of his cigarette. Staring into the sunrise through the smoke, he contemplated what he had listened to in the night they departed. Guard duty, he had told them, but their conversation was just too enticing to depart from. Possessions. Dream Eaters. What a marvel to hear. Blackmore reflected on the individuals he had met. He would have liked to know Samuel Brownlee further.

"Enough of that." He snapped himself out of it. Aiola was now in sight, and with that, peace and quiet. Once the ferry docked, they would be near the city of Nirvana, a place famous due to its history with a group named Nirvanists, religious historians dedicated to documenting the world and its creation. From there, they would have an easy journey, with the Chang Monastery, a place where Li deemed it safe to rest due to his long history with the residents, located in the mountains next to the city.


The large red and white accented ferry docked. Stairs were let down for passengers to exit onto the boardwalk. The first off was Zade. He let in a deep breath, smelling the salty air before walking forward. He was followed by Blackmore, with Marshall toting the group's heavy luggage behind him. Atticus, Blossom, Chris, and Li departed and met up with the rest of the group.

Noticeable as one exited, an unusually large Halan junk — the Second Wind — was docked nearby. It seemed to be built with a mix of woods — elm, teak, bamboo, and various softwoods. Three masts jutted from the deck, two large towards the front, one smaller one over the steering cabin.

"Well, we don't have Samuel anymore. Hopefully, we're not screwed without him," Chris commented.

Li took in the sights of the city. Months, maybe years, had passed between his last visit, but little had changed. "I'm sure we'll do fine without him."

"I'm sure Mister Li will do fine guiding us through this, Chris," Marshall confirmed.

"Come," Li hobbled forward to the front of the group. "Much awaits us."


As Marshall made it to the top of the steps, he set the suitcases down. Lagging a bit behind the rest of the group, he had reached the small plateau where the monastery stood. In the distance, the city of Nirvana seemed incredibly small. Two large ornate gates were hinged upon a wall, with gold symbols decorating it. The monastery was octagonal with black shingle roofing lining the wall. The group stood on a small stone platform carved into the mountain thousands of years ago.

To the right of the gates was a bell attached to a rope pulley. Li pulled on it.

Ding dong.

The gates opened, revealing two monks on the other side, as well as a tall, dark-skinned man. He wore a dark gi with specialized gold lettering and black shoulder pauldrons.

"Welcome back, Wen," the man said. "And your guests?"

"Are Marisol and Robert in? I need to see them, Isaiah," Li rushed.

"Yes," he answered. "Come in, but you will have to leave your weapons outside."

"Are you sure this place is safe, Mister Li?" Blossom asked, reaching her hand into her brown jacket and pulling out a pair of knives and a gun. She slowly placed them on the ground in front of her.

"It is the safest place there is."

Blackmore sighed. He opened his jacket, removing both a small switchblade and a long hunting knife, as well as one of his submachine guns. "Fascists."

With the group now unarmed, Isaiah led them inside. Within the tall walls, there were over one hundred monks, standing orderly and chanting. Behind them, a large temple with orange roofing and red and teal accents stood.

"Whoa," Marshall gasped.

"Nice place," Blackmore said.

"It is not mine, however, it is the Changs'," Isaiah explained. "However, I am the lead monk here."

"Where are the Changs right now?" Chris wondered. "We have some urgent business with them."

"They are in the meditation room having tea. I'll take you to them," Isaiah answered.

He led them through the main courtyard and to the main temple. Sliding a shoji open, they entered and done a hallway made it to the room. Within, a Halan couple, both with long black hair and well-defined cheekbones and jaws, sat facing one another with a teapot and two cups between them.

"Hello, Wen. I see you brought some friends," the man, Robert, welcomed.

"Yes. Speaking of which, could you all leave the room?" Li asked, turning to face the group.

"I'll take them to the artifact room," Isaiah responded.

As they left the room, Atticus could hear a faint "we need your help" from Li.


The artifact room contained a great many objects of note, most displayed on pedestals with a small nameplate beneath them. An ancient golden sickle-sword covered in markings in an unfamiliar language bore the label "Great King Nzulk's Blade." Next to it was an open manuscript, its pages water-damaged and its cover dusty. Its nameplate read, "Codex Seventy-Five, 20 TP."

"I really hope we can stay here for more than a few days," Atticus said. "We've spent so much time going from place to place, one after another."

"I wouldn't bet on anything," replied Blackmore. He leaned against a tall podium. "If there's anything our road trip has taught me, it's to expect the worst."

"So, what do we do now?" Chris wondered.

"We just wait," Atticus replied as he pulled a large book off a shelf and began to open it.

...and the court of the gods found that Xeren had committed crimes so numerous and unforgivable that execution was deemed a necessity. Palvatar, the giant who carried a scythe gifted by the Shephard of Souls, was to carry out the execution.

When the soul of Xeren was torn from his body, it split into two halves. Of the first, nothing is known. Of the second, a luminescent red sphere appeared in the skies of Euclid. It circled the world time and time again, never changing the speed or direction of its orbit.

Atticus paused at this line. A red sphere streaking across the sky — that sounded familiar. He had seen it twice before. Once in Thales, once in Muné.

If it were to be claimed, the soul could imbue its possessor with unimaginable control over reality itself, akin to that of a Power.

"Hey, Chris, Marshall?" Atticus began. "Do you remember that light we've seen a few times? The red one?"

"Of course we remember that!" Chris exclaimed. "I mean, how could we not? It was sure quite an unusual thing to see in the sky."

"Well, remember how Steven told us that were theories it was connected to some hidden leader? This book claims that it's the soul of the god, or well, Power Xeren and that he was killed by others like him."

"What's this about a light?" Zade asked as he walked over, holding his hiking stick tightly in his hands.

As Chris explained the conversation, Zade began to wince. "Ah yes, I've heard of this light before, back in the days where I still lived in Muné."

"Why do you guys still care about this garbage?" Marshall asked, finally breaking his silence. "We're not on vacation here, this is life-or-death. Why do we keep going on about this shit? The Dream Eaters, the red comet and all this other shit doesn't matter. Can we not take this seriously?"

No one responded before Marshall threw their bags down and stomped out of the room.

Li departed from his meeting with the Changs in high spirits. He was almost to the artifact room when he spotted Marshall walking away from the room.

"What is wrong?" he asked. Marshall only shot a glare in his direction.

Concerned, the man entered the room and saw the group. As he approached, Li noticed something strange. From this angle, Atticus bore a striking resemblance to Gabriel. Atticus was younger, of course, but his face was uncannily close and his eyes were the same light green.

"Mister Li?" Blossom spoke up after noticing Li standing in the doorway. "What did they say?"

Li snapped out of his stupor and walked over to the group. "They said we can stay. We'll be going to our rooms soon."

Part II

Aaron had dropped out of the Search Party the moment he heard they were going to Muné. He said he would rather not risk his life and leave his family behind. No one could argue with that, however no one else backed out. Rosington had arranged for a cargo ship to drop them off at Nirvana on its way to a port near Louhwark, Hala. They would then take the Smithson-Reed Ferry to Muné as Dyson recommended.

Savannah looked out over the deck and watched the waves. Lisa stood to her right, watching the sunset. Charles was to her left. He tried to imitate the others by blankly staring ahead at the ocean in front of him. Jordan was seated behind them, reading a novel. The only sounds were the crashing of waves and a light sea breeze.

"Hey, listen up," They all turned to face Dexter as he exited the ship's cabin. "The ship is behind schedule because of our stop. We'll be dropped off at a nearby town called Crehambraugh, stay the night there and depart for Nirvana in the morning."

"Have you even been there before?" Lisa asked. "I don't know if it would be a good idea for us to stop in unfamiliar places."

"Relax, it can't be that bad," Dexter showed his tablet, which displayed a map of Aiola. "Look, Nirvana and this town are both parts of Sampi." He tapped the screen, which changed the landscape view to one which showed the borders of each country. Each country was colored red, orange, yellow or green.

"You see that?" Dexter asked. "Sampi and its neighbors are all green, meaning little to Coalition and angel activity within its borders. This is one of the safest places to be."

"Clarify what the Coalition is," Charles told Dexter. "I am aware of multiple coalitions, though which you are referring to was not evident from your statement."

"The Nuyö-Dyavol Coalition, Charles," Dexter explained. "It's an alliance connecting the demon army, Nuyovian governments and crime syndicates. They have a great reach, although we shouldn't have to worry about them until we get to Muné."


The vessel docked at a beach and the party departed. Lights shone from nearby buildings, yet the beach was empty and lifeless. The passengers proceeded over a bridge to the town. The town streets were much like the beach.

"Where is everyone?" Savannah asked.

"It's getting dark, they're probably asleep," Florence adjusted his fedora and continued.

The party kept walking for a few more minutes until a light was abruptly shone on their faces.

"What are you doing outside?" A vested, balding man asked. He held a flashlight in his right hand and a switchblade in his left. "Curfew started hours ago!"

"We're sorry about that, sir. We didn't know about any curfew, we're new to town." Jordan explained.

"I'm curious," the man started. "Are you tourists? Refugees? Just passing through?"

"We are passing through Crehambraugh on the way to Nirvana," Charles replied.

The man scratched his beard. "Well, this ain't a big deal, and I have more important things to do," he looked to Dexter and Florence. "How about you gentlemen give me 40 phoenixes? I won't snitch on you, you go on your way. Deal? I'll even show you to the nearest inn for an extra 20."

"Alright," Florence nervously fumbled with his coat pocket and then his wallet, grabbing six thick coins for the man.

The man pocketed the coins and pointed to his left. "Thanks. Inn's that way." He walked away without another word.

The group saw a building with faintly visible signage reading "Nettlefold Inn." They proceeded into the lobby, where a few patrons sat around a fireplace or watched a small television. A child spun around with her toy airplane as her father read a newspaper. She appeared to be the only person in the room without a lethargic appearance. The attendant at the front desk was typing something as they approached. His nametag read "Gerald."

Jordan warily walked up to the front desk, "Hello, sir. Well, a man with a switchblade threatened us about a curfew and demanded money. Do you know anything about this?"

Gerald looked up from his computer. "He was part of the town watch," he sighed. "You must be new here. The curfew is real and you best be glad he only demanded money."

"What?" Lisa asked, shocked. "What do you mean?"

"They've done far worse for less than being out late," Gerald lowered his voice. "Klaus Lempo -- we're supposed to call him the 'mayor' but he's really a Coalition autocrat -- took over the town five years ago. He lets his old buddies in the mafia threaten dissenters to his regime with knives and swords. You want my advice? Get out of here as soon as you can."

Savannah glanced at the group then back at Gerald. "No offense, but that sounds a bit far fetched."

"Ask anyone here," Gerald said. "They'll tell you the same."

"Well, while we're here," Florence interrupted. "We'd like two rooms."

Ten phoenixes were exchanged for two room keys. Dexter set his suitcase aside and asked around as the group waited.

"We have to do something about this," he said when he returned. "This town, these people. Their situation is horrid. We can't just let them keep suffering."

"Getting involved in this town's business would be stupid, Wellington," Lisa began. "We should just move on, we're not Union agents."

"If the GU was going to do something, why would Crehambraugh still be as it is five years after Lempo seized control?" Charles asked. "I assume they are either unaware of the situation or unwilling to engage."

Jordan spoke up next. "Well, if they don't know, why don't we tell them?"

"I could call Rosington," Florence said. "Ask him to pass along what we know to the other ministers."

"That sounds good," Dexter said. "Do that."

"Let's hope they listen," Savannah added.


The following morning, as they were leaving, Dexter noted an absence at the attendant's desk. Gerald was gone. At the same time, a man with a brown suit and jeans approached Florence.

"Sir, I'd like to talk to you for a moment," he said. "My name is Klaus Lempo. I'm the mayor of this fine city." He stuck out a hand.

Florence shook. "Florence Carnation."

"Right. I would like to apologize, Mister Carnation, on behalf of the Neighborhood Watch program. We were unaware that the man who robbed you was abusing his power," Lempo retrieved a stack of phoenixes from his pocket. He handed it to the detective. "Here is your money back. Please don't let this unfortunate experience affect your opinion of our city."

"Thanks. We'll be—."

"Wait, hang on," Dexter said. "Do you know what happened to the guy at the front desk?"

"I was going to explain," Lempo responded. "That man, Gerald, used to be part of the watch. He was removed for insubordination. A concerned citizen informed us he was spreading lurid rumors about his former colleagues and myself."

"Well, everyone I asked seemed to be in agreement about those 'lurid rumors.' If I may be blunt, it's getting really hard to take you seriously."

Lempo glared. "You're right, Wellington."

Dexter froze. "Um, who would that be? Are you confusing me with someone else?"

"You aren't going to play my game so I won't play yours," Lempo's expression changed to smug satisfaction. "We know who you are, Dexter Wellington. We know about your employment history. We know Alchemilia set a bounty on your head for stolen property."

"Alchemilia doesn't exist anymore."

"No, but I'm sure there are quite a few people who would like to have a chat with you about Remnant Rock. About Manta."

"Get to the point."

"We have eyes everywhere. I want your assurance that, when you leave the city, all of you will keep quiet about what happened here."

"You have my word," Florence said. "There will be no trouble from us."

Dexter considered his options before replying, simply, "No."

"Fine," Lempo shrugged. "If you want to reconsider, my door is always open. Just don't think about calling anyone, or leaving the city. My men will know."

The mayor left. Dexter looked to the others, who glared back.

"Really?" Lisa asked. "You thought that was a good idea?"

"I, uh, well," Dexter sputtered. "I wasn't gonna just let him get away with it."

"My plan was that we'd lie and contact Rosington once we reached Nirvana," Florence said. "I thought you'd catch on, sorry."

"Fooled me, honestly," Savannah countered. "Still, I'm agreeing with Lisa for once."

"You're all being too harsh," Jordan said. "Do we all make perfectly sane choices when under that much stress?"

"Jordan is correct. Dexter should be excused for his lack of foresight, given the situation," Charles concluded. "We should focus on the matter of how to proceed. I propose we meet with Lempo and tell him, truthfully or otherwise, that we agree to his terms."

"Yeah," Dexter responded. "But I'm going alone, in case he tries to pull anything." He thought of Baptiste pulling a pistol on him. "I'm bringing the gauss gun too."

"I could accompany you," Charles offered. "It is one of my primary objectives to assure your survival."

"Alright, but no one else."

"Good luck," Florence said. "We'll be waiting for you at the park we passed on the way here."

"If we take too long, don't wait up," Dexter responded.


Charles and Dexter made their way into the town hall. It was quite large and well maintained. Every surface seemed to have a slight shine to it from the lights streaming in outside. Men and women of various apparel walked about the foyer, usually in small groups of three to four. Dexter walked towards an elevator, Charles following.

Breaking from one of the groups, a tall dark-skinned man approached the two of them. Placing his hand on the elevator door, he grinned. "Do you have business here?"

"We plan to meet with the Mayor," Charles explained.

The man reached down into his pocket and pulled out a knife.

"We mean you no harm. There is no reason to resort to violence," Charles said, although he was preparing his own knife in case there were any sudden movements.

"Oh, there won't be any violence," the man sneered. "And you won't be meeting with the mayor. He's a busy man, and today he has a full schedule."

Dexter began to back away. "Oh, I understand. We'll come back tomorrow."

When he assumed he was out of the man's earshot, Dexter whispered to Charles, "We're taking the stairs."

"No, you aren't."

An older man with scruffy dark brown hair, tan skin and a white suit blocked the stairwell. He held a spiked bat in his hands. Dexter retrieved his pistol and took aim at the thug.

"We are armed as well, I wouldn't recommend that," Charles replied, emphasizing his own knife.

The gangster continued towards them, undeterred by the warning. Dexter shot at him.

"Is this the best you can do?" The man chuckled. He charged at Dexter with the club.

Charles took his knife and cut the attacker's cheek. The man scowled. He pushed Charles down as Dexter put some space between him and the gangster. He pocketed the pistol and retrieved Aaron's coilgun from his pack. He launched two projectiles at the gangster. The thug dodged to the left, preparing to laugh, before a small round pellet shot into his eye. He fell to the ground with a great thud.

Charles stood up. His systems were still recovering from the attack, the combat functions especially impaired. The android's basic functions were still in adequate condition, however.

"More hostiles on stairs," Charles noted. "I can only provide limited assistance for a few minutes. A full inspection or even repairs may be required upon our return to the Nettlefold Inn."

Dexter nodded. Behind the group, a loud gunshot could be heard. With all eyes turning, the man who had stopped Dexter and Charles at the elevator could be seen wielding a shotgun.

"Stop the lollygaggin' or I'll kill these bastards myself."


The trio of teenagers and Florence had moved from the inn to a nearby park. All of them exchanged few words as nervous thoughts about their friends plagued them. Finally, Savannah spoke.

"Do you think we're going to find them?" she asked. "We only know they were near Headre weeks ago. They've probably left by now."

Jordan turned his head over to Savannah, "They've undoubtedly left. Hopefully we could find another lead, though."

"It's highly unlikely that we'll find another lead, they're probably keeping a low-profile," Lisa stated.

"Well, yeah," Savannah admitted. "But we know them better than anyone else. If they're going to be found, we're gonna be the ones who find them."

"Do we really know them?" Lisa asked. "The Atticus that Jordan and I knew wouldn't fake his death for months and return as a terrorist insurgent. And you... only knew most of them for a day or so."

"Sorry for being optimistic," Savannah grumbled.

They went back to silence after that exchange. Florence continued to write in his notebook, occasionally stopping to review his prior notes. There was little news to report, but he could not find anything else to occupy his time.

"Excuse me," Florence looked up from his book to see a man with a black coat and slicked-back hair. He was accompanied by five others. The detective recognized one among their ranks: the vested man who had confronted the party for being out past curfew. Florence gulped.

"Yes?"

"I'm Terrance. We're with the watch," the man explained. "Your friends have been causing quite a stir at town hall. We'd like to know why."

Florence calmly stood up and reached into his jacket. A mechanical clicking was heard as he revealed a long, alabaster white revolver. "That's funny, I'd like to know something too." He pointed it towards the group of mobsters. "Do you feel lucky, punks?"

The thugs scattered. Three fell in quick succession. An especially confident attacker attempted to strike Florence from behind with a bat. Florence turned around and shot him in the arm. The bat was dropped.

Jordan hid behind a bench. Once he was out of sight, he tried to slow his heavy breathing. His heart raced. Lisa and Savannah similarly took cover behind other benches. Further shots rang out, more screams and bodies dropping to the ground with a heavy thud.

Then all the sounds abruptly stopped. Lisa looked out through the slits in the bench to see Florence slumped on the ground. A knife was stuck in his left leg. Terrance had snatched the gun and pointed it at Florence's head.

With Florence incapacitated, the attackers began to spread out, looking for other targets. A man with a long, steel sword noted movement beneath a park bench. Upon closer inspection, he found there was indeed someone hiding nearby: Savannah. The girl screamed as the attacker brought his sword down.

A clink of metal against metal. Savannah discovered she was holding a sword similar to the attacker's, although its blade was engulfed in flame. The man stepped back a bit. Savannah felt a sharp pain in her forehead. She winced.

What just happened? She remembered the strange occurrence at Manta, how Baptiste's gun had suddenly appeared in her hand. More questions flooded her mind. How did I pull that off? Why did it happen again?

"Hey, over here!" The attacker yelled to his compatriots. "This one's got a weapon!"

Savannah tried to strike the man’s leg. The weight of the sword was too great. The man grinned, seeing her struggle and raised his knife, cutting her down the arm. She cried out in pain and finally stabbed him. He fell, but not before slashing at her leg. Savannah turned around before she saw the blood pooling around his body.

Don't think about it, she thought, it was either you or him.

Savannah struggled to stand as she faced a second mobster: a muscular woman whose sword bore intricate engravings. She scowled at Savannah. The girl's greatest concern was the woman's vest, which looked to be bulletproof.

The thug tried to charge at her, hoping to deliver a killing blow while she still struggled to keep upright. Savannah dropped to her knees. The gangster only struck the empty air. The girl used the chance to swipe at her opponent, who failed to dodge. With much effort, Savannah was eventually able to get back on her feet.

Terrance took note, aiming Florence's revolver at the girl. As he prepared to shoot, the mobster was suddenly pushed to the ground. Florence retrieved his revolver from Terrance and shot him in the stomach. Overwhelmed and leaderless, the watch began to retreat.

"I'm going to help Dexter and Charles," Savannah said.

"You're insane," Lisa responded. "Absolutely insane, you know that? You seriously think, after what we just went through, that it'd be a good idea to go back into the fire."

"They need all the help they can get," Jordan responded.

Lisa faced Florence, expecting him to back her up. "It's her choice," he said.

The girl gawked. Florence continued, "If you're going, take this," he gave the revolver to Savannah.


A few pedestrians were out walking. They kept their distance as a girl with a sword ran by. They could only assume she was a member of the watch, chasing someone down. It was better to stay out of it, for their own safety. Strangely, the girl's sword seemed to glow a bright orange, as if it was perpetually aflame.

When Savannah finally reached town hall, she saw Charles and Dexter in the foyer. The two were surrounded by the bodies of slain or unconscious gangsters, some still bleeding out. Charles was sitting on the ground, eyes closed, as Dexter kept watch for new arrivals. He briefly took aim at Savannah as she entered but quickly set the coilgun back at his side.

"They went after the others too," he sighed. "Bastards."

"What's with Charles?" Savannah asked.

"Took a few too many hits. Needs a second to recover," Dexter paused. "Cool sword. Did one of the mobsters drop it?"

"Yeah," she lied. Savannah wondered how many times she would need to repeat that lie.

The two waited in silence for a few moments before Charles stood up.

"System functionality restored. Shall we proceed?"

The trio walked into the elevator and took it to the top floor. The hall appeared empty, so they continued on to the mayor's office.

"Drop it!"

The mayor's two guards wore armored vests and, more worrying, were armed with pistols. Savannah slashed at the arm of the one to her left. He dropped the weapon while the other prepared to open fire. Before he could, the pistol was abruptly removed from his hands. Dexter shot the man in the leg. With the officers dealt with, the group turned their attention to the man they had been protecting.

Lempo held a strange weapon in his hands. Brass knuckles attached to a revolver box with a dagger at its end. He aimed it at Dexter.

"You said we could reconsider," Dexter took aim at the mayor with his coilgun. Savannah raised the sword and Charles took out his knife. "Is that offer still valid?"

"I suppose it was unfair to not keep my word, but it's not like you would have held up your end of the agreement," Lempo responded. "I was trying to be pragmatic, leaving no loose ends."

"That went well."

"Quite. Do you want me to tender my resignation? Disband the neighborhood watch?"

"We wish for you to be tried by the courts of the Global Union," Charles explained.

"Not happening," Lempo said. "I would sooner kill myself now than let that instituion prolong my suffering."

"We're at an impasse, then, because I won't accept anything less," Dexter replied. "The least you can do is let your fellow men judge your crimes."

"My crimes?" Lempo sneered. "No criminal activity has occurred in this city since I took office. The Neighborhood Watch has seen to that."

"The Svatovid are keeping the peace. Right."

"A few former gangsters slipping back into their old ways every so often is a small price to pay for our security. If you saw how Crehambraugh once was, you'd see my perspective."

"You sent hitmen after teenagers because Dexter stood his ground," Savannah countered. "Gerald was taken away because he spoke out of line."

"It may seem extreme to an outsider, I know," Lempo said. "I'm open to changing the system or even disbanding it if you insist. Just lower your weapons and we can talk."

Dexter put the coilgun at his side. "Fine."

"All of your weapons," the mayor insisted.

Charles acquiesced. "That is a fair demand."

"You haven't lowered your own gun," Savannah said. She desperately wanted to lower the heavy sword, but kept it up through sheer spite.

Lempo put the revolver on his desk. "There."

The sword almost fell out of her hand. Lempo looked over the trio and smiled. He took the revolver and shot Dexter's hand. The roboticist keeled over as Charles began attending to his wounds. The grip on the coilgun failed. The device fell. Lempo laughed. Savannah again raised the sword.

Lempo shot at her. Savannah moved as he fired, the bullet grazing her arm. Fighting through the pain, she desperately slashed ahead of her. Lempo stopped laughing. The sword was lodged into his stomach. Savannah slowly began to process what she had just done. Another headache flared up. She tightly shut her eyes.

When she opened her eyes, the office of Lempo was gone. Savannah stood in a grassy field. A body laid in front of her: a man in light armor, with some metal reinforcements. Those reinforcements evidently did not stop a sword from rending the chest piece. His left arm and the sword it held had been violently amputated. Some blood pooled around the body, but the wounds had been cauterized. The hazel-gold eyes of the dead man were frozen in shock. White, dove-like wings protruded from his back. She thought of Hiroshi and his claims of being half-angel.

A congregation of winged people were amassed behind the deceased. The angels closest to their presumed leader wore similar armor, while those further back used boiled leather. They were silent in shock. A few had broken down into tears. Savannah felt a tinge of recognition from their leader, although she was not sure where she had seen him before.

Behind Savannah, cheering erupted. She turned to see a crowd of creatures howling and chanting at her victory. The noise deafened as they turned to look at something above her. A circular viewpoint had appeared in the sky. The area beyond first appeared to be little more than a mess of colors and sounds. It turned into a great chamber with many seats. The occupants of the seats were still hard to discern, but a few looked humanoid. Savannah noted one particular entity among them: a man in workwear sitting near the far end of the chamber. He looked disappointed.

Recognizing him as Tuisco reminded her of the beings he had shown at what he claimed was the beginning of the universe. Three of them were sitting near Tuisco. Another, she realized, lay dead near her. She involuntarily turned back to the crowd behind her. An armored beast with the head of a goat stepped forward as Savannah unsheathed the flaming sword. Her arms were covered by white metal, the same as the final Power.

"Dasim, take Ahriman," a masculine voice spoke from Savannah's mouth. "No matter what happens next, never forget what I have told you."

Dasim nodded and took the sword. Savannah turned around. In a flash of red light, she vanished.

It was over. She was back in the mayor's office. The dead god was now a dead man. Police sirens blared in the distance.

Savannah collapsed.

Epilogue

Dasim entered the conference room quietly, taking in the moonlight, tinted red through the curtained windows. At the head of the long table was a man in dark armor and a cloak, to his left a bald man in a maroon suit.

"You wanted to see me, Cicero?"

"Sit down, comrade," responded the armored figure. As Dasim took a seat across from the other man, Cicero continued. "His name is Leonid Gryaz, and he is gainfully employed by the Svatovid. He has come to inform us of the situation in Crehambraugh."

"Aye," responded Gryaz. "Lempo has been sacked. A group of Thelsh, no more than three, killed all of our soldiers."

Cicero looked back to Dasim. "This brought something to my mind. Do you remember one of the stories you told me when I was young, about my father? The showcase of Ahriman?"

"Yes," Dasim said. "It would be impossible to forget."

"He told you, 'I would begin the next battle with this in hand,' if my memory does not betray me," Cicero stared at Dasim through his helmet's visor. "This Thelsh woman summoned a flaming sword in the middle of a rainstorm from thin air and cut through an entire town's defenses."

"Do you think this is how your father would make his return known?" Dasim was unimpressed. "I recall him specifying that he would use the sword after defeat in battle. The Powers' execution was not a battle, by any means."

"Do you think my father would be so naive as to not realize that the powers the be would punish him? He showed you the sword so that you may herald his return, general, and I think you're being faithless."

"With all due respect, Lord Cicero, I feel like you may be getting too excited about a false lead," Dasim paused, considering something. "Did you check the armory? If the sword is not a replica, it would no longer be in our possession."

"Ahriman vanished from its display case hours before Gryaz arrived. There was no evidence of an intrusion," Cicero looked Dasim straight in the eye. "That was my father. I have no doubts."

Episodes
Season One: Catching SmokeWhite RoomBare TreesOne Night in GladeaCeasefireHide & SeekExit MusicReunionIn Somnis VeritasCarpe DiemPrimo VictoriaDon't Fear the Reaper
Season Two: Crumbling CastleRoaming KingSafe HavenMarked MapThe Less I Know the BetterRiding the WaveCenturies of DamnationHouse of the Rising SunThe MasterEverybody Plays the FoolLoyalty
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