I Came, I Saw, I Conquered
by Corycian Muse

Ahah hah harr, I really don't know how to start this... No, I'm not dead, nor have I been abducted by aliens. I haven't even got writer's block. The reason for such a long update? Coursework. The very Devil itself! Begone, foul dwimmerlaik! I haven't been able to live for seven weeks! I could go on forever about all the coursework: History, I had to write about prohibition; for Religious Studies, I had to do the subject of Good and Evil. Go Irenaeus, I say! For Geography, I had to do long and arduous work about tourism in Antarctica! Oh yes, and 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' for English, but Shakespeare isn't that bad, I s'pose. "Though she be but little, she is fierce!" Har! I had to read that part in class. Anyone seen the film, Seabiscuit? Well, if you have, you should see what I'm getting at here.
Wow, I almost forgot this was fanfiction! Well, onto those brilliant reviews from the last chapter:

Xanda: Yeah, the Proxians are brutal - or at least, Agatio is. Poor Alex, I do feel a little sorry for him! HP sauce? Hmm, yeah, I like that as well, heh. Strangely, I hate tomato ketchup... thankee for the review!

blackarrow92:(Also waves the great Valeshipping flag) Yes! Go IsaacXJenna! One of the best pairings out there! Thanks for the review!

SpasticDjinn: Oh yessy indeedy, educated conversations, um hmm. Earl Grey tea? I can't believe Monsieur Mastere drinks such tosh! Personally I prefer Nescafé's Cap Colombe, but that's coffee. Ahem, and Tiamat is a mere amateur. Heed my words, young Spastica: Set rules over all, and would crush Tiamat as if he were a fly. Anubis too, Monsieur Mastere. Hahah! "Pro quam esse quam videri Quis Necavit Equitem" Thank you, as always, for the review!

MoR: I see we agree on quite a few things. I was merely lazy and uncaring when Mr. Spastica beat me in checkers. Hmph. Thank yoooou! You gave me 'constructive critiscm'! Well, I shall have to go back and destroy such terrible typos. They should nto exist in this world that we dwell in! (Actually, I'll just go back and edit the whole story once I've finished it). Of course I'm jealous of you! No questions asked. I respect you, man! Rock on! And I respect your rambling reviews! Sorry about the update soonish part (feels guilty). Asta la Vista!

SPQT: Yes, no murdering the Proxians! I like the Proxians! The next part of your review will be answered further down the page, and sadly, no cutlery is used. Garet proposing to Feizhi? Hah, I hope not! I like Garet in this story - so many people portray him as a dumbass, but he's not that bad, is he/ Just a bit... thick? Um hmm, all typos shall be destroyed sooner all later. Sorry that you ahd to read them. But, I do like Peru and I'm glad it doesn't matter! Thanks for the reivew!

ShadeXH: Bleargh! School sucks, I know. All I can simply say, is that I've missed your reviews, and you are an amazing person. Ahah! You totally hammered my stupid mistake in the last chapter. I kept calling the dagger a sword, when it's a dagger! Whoops! I hope I haven't banged my head without realsing it... Well, mustn't say anymore here, but thank you so much for the review!

Shiny Milotic: Oooh... well we will certainly have to find out! Ahahaharr! Thanks for the review!

Meneil: Haha! I have to laugh about the Agatio subject here. You'll see what I mean when you read this, but I really hate that Proxian. I've put him into the story, because I had to, seeing as Karst is in it. However, he won't be in it for much longer, thank goodness. Thanks for the review!

PyroDragon88: My fellow Aquashipping dude, hello again! I want to point out that Aquashipping could be classed as the main shipping in this story, but you're going to have to wait! Sorry! Thanks for the review, and hurry with your updates! (please)

Please Read, and Please Review, and Please Enjoy! ... ...

Chapter Thirteen: Crimson Tides

The bitterness in the air was nothing to Karst. She hardly noticed it. In fact, it was welcomed as it dived through the chilly winds, catching the sails, breathing life into the choppy waters.

She glanced west, and saw faintly upon the foggy horizon, the rise of land leaning up into the morbid skies. That was their trail – it was what they followed. And by night, when only things could be seen by the ethereal light of the moon, the prow of the ship was steered towards Polaris, the twinkling star, like a hole in the black bowl above.

Karst turned to the Proxian sailors working upon the deck. "Hitch the sail up upon the first mast," she called out. "I want to reach shore by tomorrow's midday." She turned, hugging herself while her eyes slowly narrowed as she listened to the bustling people behind her. "I have a feeling there will be something we're not expecting," she murmured to herself.

The corner of Alex's shadowed azure eye twitched - a spasm he could not rid. He felt his lip curling backwards into a frustrated snarl.

"You…"

"Yes, I," Piers answered, a step from the edge of mockery. "Feels rather light, doesn't it?"

A low growl escaped Alex's throat. One moment he was completely still. In the next, his face contorted into utter fury, and he blindly threw the amulet in his hand at Piers, who just managed to sidestep out of the way.

The amulet struck the stone wall, and shattered into dust and sandy chalk. It hung in the air for a while, a small, gritty cloud.

Alex's form dissipated.

Bemusement crossed over Piers' face, as he stared at the echo-like image of where Alex had been standing. His whole body felt rigged, as he tried desperately to keep aware of his surroundings.

A dripping noise reverberated down the long hallway from the entrance. Piers ignored it. The dim light from the centrepiece flickered, like a candle's flame, creating shadows around the room, while disturbing others into light. He ground his foot into the hard stones beneath him, knowing an attack would come at any moment, from any side.

The air seemed to slice apart.

Narrowly missing Piers' shoulder, the tainted blade was thrust out and down as Alex's form merged together behind him. Piers stumbled, and grasped out at the wall for support, before he whirled around to face the attack.

"If this deed has to be done," he breathed, holding up a placating hand. "It will be done by me alone."

Alex's eyes were pale and watery, and his face appeared gaunt in the dim light. His attire seemed to hang from his form. Only five minutes beforehand, he had been standing proud and immaculate before the fake amulet, ready to destroy one land for another. Now he was weak and exhausted from using a power only he could tap into, in his blind fury to attack and kill the Lemurian. "What do you mean?" he muttered hoarsely.

Piers seemed pleased that Alex wasn't rearing to maim him so recklessly now. "What I mean, is that you and I ultimately want to do the same thing."

Confusion chalked over Alex's expression. "Talk sense," he growled, still clutching the black dagger with white hands. "Talk sense, before I…"

"Before you… what?" Piers asked, suddenly very close to him. "Before you, attack me, say?" His movement was quick and unreadable, taking Alex by surprise. Before he knew what had hit him, he doubled over, wheezing, clutching his stomach as the Lemurian stepped back to give him room. Alex slid to the floor. He looked, Piers noted, utterly and enigmatically pathetic, and a deep, unfathomable sadness welled inside him to see such a sight.

A small trickle of blood ran from the corner of Alex's pale lips. He clutched at his stomach as he stared into nothingness – at things only he could see. The dagger, now dull, and lifeless, lay upon the dusty ground before him – abandoned.

Piers' face softened. "I'm sorry," he said, vaguely aloof, and he stepped past to be covered by the shadow of the low archway. The light of the centrepiece slowly died behind him, as he made his way towards the entrance. A new light ahead told of the rising of a new Sun.

Piers did not hide, or crouch low, as he walked along the hilltops above the Proxian camps. He made no effort to keep himself hidden, because he knew no one was looking for him, or even looking in his direction.

As he walked, he took into detail the amulet that was held securely between his fingers. The strange thing was that however long he kept it close to his skin, its gleaming metal surface always remained cold. He eyed it, holding it close to his face while half watching where he was stepping, and saw, unsurprisingly, inscribed symbols in its angular surfaces. A single black jewel was encrusted in its centre, and within this precious stone was a deep, perplexing, ever-changing brush of colour. Depending on how Piers held it, it could have been a rich caramel, or if he turned it sideways to the Sun, it merged into a golden light inside the darkness of the jewel.

"This should be worn by a fair woman," Piers mused dryly, and he felt his face fall as he spoke. His eyes clouded over.

The magnificent pillars of whitewashed stone sank into the loamy ground. They were surrounded by high, green grasses of every shade possible. Especially when the Sun shone down. Lemuria was beautiful.

The grass swayed, and bowed and lengthened and grew fine and changed in hue. It turned over and morphed into cascades of shining blue, gleaming cerulean. It all fell, over the contours of a high brow, and long lashes, and the smooth curve a rosy cheek to play over soft virgin lips. And the lashes parted and grew wide. Mia was beautiful.

And because she was beautiful in every way, Piers' heart hurt so very much. It ached forlornly, guiltily, piercingly. It was something that could not be healed because Piers knew he had to choose.

And being divided over choice was what ripped his soul in two, because Piers wished he could have both, and he knew that could never happen.

He thrust the amulet into the small leather purse on his belt, as if it burnt his fingers. He did not want to hold such a thing that's very meaning was the quintessence of choice between one's survival and another's death. It was too overbearing.

Piers suddenly found himself in the small clearing of their temporary campfire. Thankfully, Isaac had not returned yet, just as he had hoped.

Without any hesitation, he stepped over the ashes of the spent fire, and into the shadows of the trees. Pulling the small knife from his belt, he leaned forward. The gagged Proxian, still where they had left him, looked up at Piers with uncertainty and fear shining in his red eyes. For a moment, Piers stared back, nonchalant and expressionless.

Suddenly, he pressed the flat of the knife against the Proxian's jaw, and slid it up under the old cloth. With a calculated ease, he cut the gag clean off, where it fluttered to the ground. The Proxian took in a sharp intake of breath, and managed to rub his cheek on his shoulder, rolling his head sideways.

"Go back to Saturos now," Piers was saying. He had moved around behind the Proxian to cut his binds. "Go to him, and tell him everything that you have seen. Tell him that I have the amulet, and tell him that Alex wanted the same thing. Tell him," he said, finally cutting the rope in two, "Tell him, that his anger had blinded him." He nudged the Proxian forward, who grudgingly stepped away. They did not take their eyes from each other.

"What misfortune have you brought upon us?" Nameless asked darkly, moving back into the morning shadows.

Piers eyes grew wide, taken aback. For a moment, he was speechless. "What misfortune may be for you," he said hoarsely, "Could be the survival of someone else. Please…go."

The Proxian left.

For a while, the Lemurian stood in frozen stillness. He stared into the rustling leaves, not blinking until his eyes blurred and became watery. The colours of the world moulded together and distorted, until the stinging pain became too much and Piers had to blink.

The world became clear again, and a single tear trickled slowly from the corner of his eye.

It was not long, before Piers had set sail once more, away from the island that had held upon it such inexorable despair.

The black, musty emptiness surrounded him – pressed down upon his closed eyelids. Something was dry and uncomfortable near his mouth, and his tongue darted out to lick its irony flavour. Cracked blood. Alex rubbed it from his chin with the back of his gloved hand.

The wall was hard against his back, and the ground was cold beneath him. There was no warmth in the air, or in his heart. He was bitter.

So bitter. Alex snarled and bit into his lip, pulling his legs up further to his chest, tugging the cloak closer around his shoulders. He opened his eyes, and in the faint light he could almost see the people on the walls moving. They pranced, and raised their spears, and fell to the ground as the battles wore on. And then their movement died with their lives in the stories told, and they were just pictures in the stone once more.

Alex pressed his fingers into his temples, rubbed his eyes. Then, he noticed the dagger lying dead upon the ground beside him.

Sheba had found it; it was the first visible proof that someone from the outside was on their land. As Alex thought about it, he remembered how he had then gone to see Piers' ship. The magnificent prow, and the high masts and the pulsing, energy emanating from within its wooden shell. It was an energy he was very familiar with.

Alex chuckled. How ironic, he thought with sadistic amusement. The very books I learnt the elements from will soon be discovered by Mia as she travels closer to our home in the north! That's if she ever comes across them, he continued to muse. I did hide them well… I should have burnt them, destroyed their fragile pages…

But then, Saturos had already sent a small battalion to those very northern shores.

"By the time Mia unearths the truth, it will be too late," Alex said aloud, to the high ceilings above him. His voice bounced from wall to wall. "The earth will already be shaken by then…"

He took the dark blade from the ground, and drew it back, aiming it at the palm of his hand. Intricate, powerful emotions surged through Alex, beneath his masked façade.

He snarled, and stabbed, metal to flesh.

Dark red seeped through.

"Before Sheba left, I talked to her," Ivan said, playing with the cup handle distractedly.

"But what did you tell her?" Dora pleaded, leaning over the table. "If it has something to do with Isaac, then -"

"- Isaac will not be hurt. He will return with Jenna," Ivan interrupted. He was disgruntled, and as much as he tried to hold back his discontentment, it was starting to seep through his calm manner. "Please madam, I would not worry for any situation. And please do stop Kyle before he takes off north after them. He'll be lost in those forests before nightfall." Suddenly realising his unnaturally sharp manner, he added, "Please do not worry. It will all be… okay." It didn't sound right.

How could he possibly tell Dora what he had told Sheba alone? Ivan had always felt a strange bond between himself and the girl - something unworldly, and yet to be discovered. Something that he suspected was to do with the strange alchemy; alchemy that he was aware only of existing.

That was precisely what he had told Sheba.

As Ivan stared up at the low, dark ceiling of the cottage, now running his fingers over the knots and indents of the wooden table, he wondered anxiously with empty thoughts. For once, the future was clouded over.

And it frightened him.

"I can tell I will be getting no more from you," Dora said, bowing her head as a sign of respect as well as defeat. "If you're not going to tell me, then there's just nothing I can do about it, is there?"

"I'm afraid not, madam," Ivan answered, undeniably relieved at her step-down.

Dora acknowledged his words. "I'll try and hold Kyle back," she said with a slight chuckle. "He's a bit headstrong, but I'll be able to get round him – hopefully."

"Well, that is good," Ivan replied. "However, please tell him for me, that he will be needed here. Remember that." There was a deep sincerity in his words, and Dora watched his expression closely. "He will be needed here," Ivan repeated, drumming in the words. He stared into Dora's brown eyes, not blinking.

"I'll tell him," she answered, her voice low.

She stood up straight, and bustled through the half-open door. Ivan watched her go, and then let his eyes drop to the table in front of him. The breeze played with his flaxen hair, and ruffled over his tunic. It was not long before he too got to his feet, and left the thatched cottage, as if the wind was pulling him into the open air.

The azure sky was dusted with white, uneven clouds that played across the open blue, carried in the high breezes. People stood, talking animatedly, laughing with one another, gossiping, woven baskets of vegetables and ripe fruit hung from one arm. Men walked by, loaded with firewood, their axes slung over one shoulder. Children were lost in their own fantastical, naïve worlds, a place that could only be visited when you were young, and the world was enormous and unseen. The Sun gleamed in their faces, as Ivan walked past.

He watched it all with a strange awe, as if everything were in a new light for him. People glanced at him as he passed, nodded in acknowledgment, smiled. He was their warlord, after all.

"Good morning, mister," a young girl said genially as she skipped past. She waved, grinning broadly, and Ivan returned the smile. He watched as an even younger boy jumped out in front of the girl, making her scream with fright, and then smack him in an annoyed, yet affectionate way.

Ivan just caught a glimpse of Dora near their home, before she disappeared from his sight as he walked further down the road. He was suddenly struck with a pang of empathy and what could have been guilt, as he thought of the woman. She and Kyle's only son was somewhere unknown out to sea, and they obviously had their own suspicions of something more dangerous to come. It must have been hard.

As the sound of peoples' every day antics died away behind him, Ivan's footsteps came to a slow stop, where the wind was stronger, wilder. The ground fell away before him, as he stood still at the top of the cliffs. He stared out over the restless waves.

How many people had stood where he was, and looked into the same misty horizon? What stories did they hold?

Ivan felt intent, and he felt unnaturally empty. He felt wrong; he was troubled by anxiety. Below him, the foamy waves crashed into the bent, jagged rocks.

"Ivan?"

He jerked at the sound of the voice close behind him, and turned sharply around while taking a step away from the cliff edge. "Kay," he breathed, a little surprised. "What is it?"

She was Garet's older sister, infamous for a sharp temper. Ivan knew better, and understood what was beneath it all. He had a knack for understanding people under their outward appearance.

"I saw you coming up here," Kay explained, not embarrassed at all. "I wanted to ask you something – about my brother."

"Oh. What was that?" Ivan asked, having a pretty good idea anyway of what it was Kay wanted to know.

She peered into his violet eyes, giving Ivan the distinct feeling that he was being intruded upon. No one else was able to look at him like that, and it was unnerving. "Why did you say it was a good idea that he went up north with that Mia? And Jenna's older brother?" she asked, as if she were interrogating him.

Ivan sighed. He was having to explain a lot to people today. "I told him he was needed with them," he answered, repeating the same words he had spoken to Dora earlier.

"Needed for what?"

"For his services, Kay. Because Garet is a remarkable person. Because, every person is remarkable, because we are all unique."

She looked vaguely confused. "I don't understand what that has to do with anything," she replied brusquely, placing her hands on her hips while continuing to eye him.

This time, Ivan did not answer.

He could not explain it.

"Well I don't see why it's fair that he goes off to leave me with all the hard work of looking after Aaron, not to mention our grandfather…" Kay continued, and she failed to hold back the slight tremble in her voice.

"He'll be back soon," Ivan replied, gazing at her sidelong. "They will return, any day, the will come home…"

Jenna hardly managed to pull herself out of the way, before the behemoth of a body swayed forward, and slammed into ground, great masses of dust being thrown up around it.

Jenna's face was flecked with the Proxian's blood, as were her clothes. She tried to hold back another scream, as the massive Proxian's decapitated head fell to the ground, just before her. Its repulsive, twisted face was frozen, and the sight of its frayed neck caused her to heave. She covered her mouth.

"One less troublemaker," came a voice from somewhere to Jenna's right. "He was dangerous, angry brute. Would have caused trouble sooner or later, but I wasn't expecting that." The Proxian woman pulled some clothing from the massive Proxian's body with utter distaste, and wiped it along the bright, curved blade of an immense scythe. It was frightening to see. She turned her blazing eyes upon Jenna. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Menardi," Jenna breathed her name. She was relieved, but she had not expected such a quick, horrific attack. These people… they were fatal. It was like an iron grip in her chest; as if she refused to believe what she'd seen, that Proxians would easily kill another if the difficult situation occurred – that she had ultimately, been saved by this woman.

Suddenly, she thought of Isaac.

She whirled around, to see him lying sideways on the ground. "Isaac!" Jenna scrambled over to him, and saw he was still conscious. "Please, please… stay awake."

Isaac's blue eyes were dull, and vague. His golden hair was bloodied and dirty, so much so, that it could have been mistaken for brown hair. He saw her, in a distant way, recognition only slightly touching his features. One grazed, shaky hand reached up and touched her cheek.

Jenna felt her eyes burning – she was trembling, and she let the tears trickle down to leave their paths clear through the grime across her face.

Slowly, quietly, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Bending down, she hugged him as he lay upon the ground, pulling him to her.

The curve of Isaac's face moulded to the shape of Jenna's neck, his chin leaning into her collarbone, as she held him close. His bones ached, and were heavy with exhaustion, and as he tried to lift up both arms, he felt his body falling back. He managed to move his left hand back to keep him upright, but he felt the warm, relentless taste of blood rising up into his mouth.

"Isaac… I love you," Jenna muttered, her voice cracking. Her tears came, like jewels upon her skin. They fell into his hair, and she did not know what else to say.

It was like distant echoes behind them. Menardi was giving orders, and other Proxians were moving about, talking.

In the next instant, Menardi was beside them, giving them room, yet urging herself to be known. She was needed.

Jenna pulled back, grudgingly, when Menardi's hand fell upon her shoulder. "Your friend needs help," the Proxian murmured, and Jenna saw she had odd assortments with her.

As Jenna held Isaac up, Menardi cleaned his wound with warm water, as well as his face. "It should wake him up a little," she said dryly, dabbing his forehead for the second time.

"He'll be… okay, won't he?" Jenna asked, not sure if she wanted the answer.

"Of course," came the flat reply. "Listen to me." Suddenly Menardi was serious, and she faced Jenna head on, eyes narrowed. "You're going to have to leave now," she said in a quiet voice. This was obviously a conversation only between herself and Jenna alone. "Get away from here, and find the other person who came with him."

"Another person?" Jenna questioned, worried. She cast a quick glance at Isaac before looking back at Menardi. What other person had come? Was Felix here somewhere on the island? How had they got here?

"Yes," Menardi answered, her voice touched with exasperation. "Now get away. Quick." Her red eyes bore into Jenna's, who looked back just as discerningly.

Jenna realised. She was trying to help. Of course, she was trying to help. "Right," she answered, nodding her head determinedly. She quickly, angrily wiped her face of any tears, and turned to hook her arm around Isaac. Finding her strength, Jenna lifted him to his feet, and took his leaning weight.

Menardi turned around to face Proxians who were watching her expectantly. "Go!" she literally screamed at them. "Get out of here! Go and tell Saturos! Quick!" Jumpy, they scattered, grumbling among themselves while lifting their weapons and disappearing behind tents.

Menardi turned and glared at Jenna. "I won't tell you again," she growled, taking Jenna by surprise. "Go!"

Isaac was heavy, and stiff. Jenna could only hope he would come round as they left. She had no idea where to go. "Come on," she murmured, knowing she was telling herself that more than Isaac next to her. "Hurry!"

The Sun was higher in the sky that ever. Jenna knew she had to get into the cover of the forests quickly. Abrupt thoughts of Menardi came to her, and waves of gratefulness swept through her chest. Uncomfortably, she tried to glance over her shoulder to see if the Proxian was still there, but she was already lost from sight.

"Where do I go!" she muttered, as she heaved both herself and Isaac into nowhere. "Isaac, please… you've got to help me here!" Sweat trickled down her temple.

He suddenly became deadweight, and Jenna had to stop in her tracks. She looked at him, but his head was bowed. Nothing happened.

She nudged him gently, but he did not respond. She elbowed again. Nothing.

"Isaac," Jenna hissed, suddenly desperate, suddenly sensing that terrible tingling of fear in the pit of her stomach. "Isaac! Please, wake up! I need you!"

Without warning, he moved. It was a mere tremble through his body, but she felt it. Jenna turned, and grabbed his shoulders. "Look at me!" she commanded. "I said, look!"

He lifted his head shakily, and reached out to grab hold of her for support. With his other hand, he pointed into the forest. "That way…" he managed to whisper. "Piers…"

"Piers! You came with Piers?" Of course, he had a ship, didn't he? That was how they came after her… It was Piers.

"Right," Jenna said determinedly. "Let's go." She took up her previous position, and continued in the way Isaac had pointed. "You're going to have to help me, okay?" she said clearly to him. "Try and walk, please."

Isaac was beginning to respond. Every second he seemed to be gaining more strength, more conscious of what was happening around him. "Jenna," he breathed her name more than a couple of times.

The trees became sparse around them before long.

"It's through here," Isaac murmured. He gripped Jenna's other shoulder, and she tried desperately to keep him balanced.

The ground became strewn with brush, and the trees disappeared behind them. The ground ran down in a slope to a clearing where an old fireplace was dug into the ground. Relief flooded through Jenna, and she hurried forward with Isaac trying hard to walk beside her.

Not far ahead, the ground fell away steeply towards the sea. "Stay here," Jenna mumbled, breathing heavily. She let go of Isaac, and he sat heavily, leaning back.

There was no sight if Piers on land, but there was every possibility that he was on the ship. Jenna hurried over towards the sounds of crashing waves, and froze near the edge.

The ocean below her was empty and endless.

Wild and crashing, foam flew up towards her. As she stared down, she saw the remains of cut rope tied onto the jagged rocks, flailing about in the sea.

There was no doubt that the ship had been here.

But it had since gone…

Review please! And magical things happen!