Ivy pulled Ryena away with her calloused hands. She shook her,
"Milady, collect yourself. This isn't over yet. We followed you in this battle, we put our faith into you, think of us Milady, think of all of those out there fighting for you and our Lord. It's going to get dark in a few hours, we don't have much time. We need to hurry and save Sire. You've people to lead." Ivy said. Ryena was snapped out of her thoughts. She nodded her head, and wiped her clammy hands on her pants. She tightened her hilt on Invictus and moved forward, with Ivy following closely behind.
Hector saw Ivy jump into the wall. He wondered if he had imagined it, but Ivy was nowhere else to be seen. Hector turned around and focused on the ongoing battle. The enemies they were facing now were not humans. They were souls. And you can't kill souls, they live on forever, even he knew that. The battalion struggled to get the upper hand. Sweat glistened on their foreheads, and there were gashes on their armours. As another of their men went down, the soul fighting him came gliding towards Hector.
Every soul is dented with millions of stories. Stories of the gone, stories of the going. You live those stories as dreams or glimpses of past life. Maybe these souls had much sad stories that urges them to fight, Hector thought. And so he drew his axe and fought. Material weapons for immaterial spirits, immortals. But there was nothing else, no other way, so the Mystiques fought on. What else is left in us except fight.
The hooded figure moved purposefully in the stone corridor. The silver dagger protruding out of it's belt. It's ice-blue eyes shimmering. A room appeared at the far end. It could make out silhouettes pacing in the room from afar. It was time.
Agenos's breathing was becoming heavy, and his body was burning up. But he was lost in his subconscious. That night that he was dreaming about, remembering, was one of the most eventful night in his life. There was no going back from what was to come.
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