ROARS OMG FINALLY

I apologize to all of you for how late this chapter is in coming. So much has happened since Christmas that I haven't had a proper chance to sit down and work on this story, and I can only thank you for your patience.

So, to make up for my extended absence, I have for you a chapter that is 11,000-plus words long. There's a lot of ground to cover and you guys deserve an extra long update for being so patient. Fair warning to you guys, there is combat violence involved in this chapter.

Thank you to everyone who has continued to follow/read this story. I'm always so grateful that you all picked my story to read, and I hope you enjoy this installment!

The moment the dagger had plunged into Marik's chest the wall of Shadows halted, exploding into a whirlwind as Ishtar's scream echoed around them. The grass beneath his feet ripped from the dirt and flung into the air; Marik's body was pulled into the vortex, the Rod falling and bouncing away.

Dirt and pebbles flew in the air around their heads, nearly blinding them as the gales howled over them. Brilliant, white-hot cyan and violet hued flames consumed what was left of the willow tree, scorching the earth beneath it; the fire burned long after the tree had been reduced to ash. Small sparks of lightning ignited the air around them, fog creeping across the scored ground. Green and black shadows rolled up into the tornado, a nearly solid, massive wall of darkness.

At that moment an alien wave of horror and grief threatened to overwhelm Yami and he nearly staggered. In all the chaos of the battle, Yami had forgotten about Yugi—the emotions coursing through him were in response to the shorter wizard witnessing what had happened to Marik. His voice was hysterical and rising in each passing second.

Yami, tell me you didn't put him up to that! It can't end with his death, Yami I won't let someone die, not like this—!

"Of course I did not ask him to," Yami murmured softly. "Marik's decision to sacrifice himself was his own."

The younger wizard's sobs reached him and he felt the presence almost crumple at the back of his mind, but Yugi's power subsided.

Bakura neither knew nor cared about what was happening to Yami. Inside the center of the concentrated storm he could just barely make out the glowing and sinister green light of the Orichalcos stone. Marik's body seemed to be suspended in mid-air, held by what little residual power Ishtar had left. The light of the Orichalcos started to wind along Ishtar's arms as he blurred from sight; the combined power of the Orichalcos and the Shadows began traveling along Marik's extremities, threatening to obscure the body entirely.

Bakura realized with sudden clarity what was happening and swore. The fight with Ishtar was not yet over.

With Marik dead and his soul no longer present, his body was now merely an empty shell. In one last desperate attempt Ishtar was harnessing the power of the orichalcum to try and anchor himself to Marik's body—and if he succeeded the outcome would be dire. An immortal being, composed of Shadows and malevolent magic would be the ultimate result.

It could not be allowed to happen.

He whirled to face the other Shadow wielder. "Yami, the Orichalcos stone!" he roared over the wind. "Destroy the bloody stone or Ishtar's going to come back!"

Yami had come to the same conclusion Bakura had. Both of them were too exhausted to summon Shadow creatures from before, but he could still yet fight. His hand slashed the air, conjuring a dagger whose blade was pitch black. He waved his hand sharply and the dagger flew through the air, cutting through the shadows as it found its mark—

—and the tip of the dagger dented, bouncing off the stone. The knife exploded into fragments, the pieces dispersing into the howling winds.

Did you believe it so easy to defeat the Orichalcos?

The voice thundered out of the Shadows, powerful and thrumming. Yami gasped, his hands over his ears as a high-pitched keening began resonating through the air. Another gust of wind shoved him backwards, and he nearly losing his balance; he saw Ishizu and Rishid stagger, and Bakura cast a shield between them to protect them from the shockwaves.

The magic continued advancing along Marik's body. Marik started to distort, parts of his body vanishing into the Shadows around him, but then a barrier of green-black smoke completely swallowed the figures inside and they could see no more. Yami hurled another wave of Shadow magic, but it was blocked by a flash of poisonous green.

The Orichalcos cannot be vanquished by mere Shadow Magic! It is older than your power, Nameless King, older than you by five millennia!

A gust of cold air blew past them all, a bat-like form hurtling straight for the gathered maelstrom. Bakura was trying to break through the Shadows, they realized. Once again there was another flash and the form disbanded, violently shoved backwards. Bakura tumbled backwards into his own shield, his attempt to breach the storm failing. Yami's eyes narrowed at the wall of writhing shadows—Ishtar was calling on the powers of both the Orichalcos and the Shadows to keep them away. Even if they breached one barrier, there still came the problem of destroying the Orichalcos stone. If Shadow magic was useless against the power of the Orichalcos, how could they stop it from regenerating Ishtar?

The wind gusted past Bakura, causing an object to roll out of his hand. It came to a halt in front of Yami's feet, and he caught sight of a familiar, coldly green glowing stone in the grass. Was that…?

"I borrowed it from your shop. I was hoping to get closer, but it looks like I won't be able to do very much," Bakura growled, rising to his hands and knees. He lifted the stone and offered it to Yami. "Time's of the essence, Yami. Shadow Magic clearly won't work. Diamond cuts diamond—this is the only thing that will destroy him."

Yami took the orichalcum, wincing as the first of many whispers began echoing in his ears. Yugi's grandfather had never allowed either Yami or Yugi to handle the orichalcum outside of its box, and as the power thrummed and sang through his hand Yami understood why. The siren call of its power was staggering, the suggestion of Yami unleashing his power to punish Ishtar almost compelling, and he found it harder and harder to resist the idea of calling on the power in his hand—

Yami, I'll handle the orichalcum, Yugi said suddenly, his voice dispelling the whispers. Though his presence radiated grief, his voice was somewhat even. I don't think it's a good idea if you hold onto it.

Yami hesitated, then retreated to allow Yugi to take control. As much as he was loathe to admit it, the wizard was correct; the Shadows clearly could be held ransom to the power of the Orichalcos, and Yami was infused with Shadow magic. Be careful, Yugi, he warned.

Yugi staggered as he regained his feet, pushing aside his pain and grief. There would be time to mourn Marik later, but now he had to fight to make sure Marik's sacrifice had not been made in vain.

An idea had already started to form in his mind. There was no way any one of them would be able to get close enough to Ishtar to deal a physical blow; either the wind or the magic surrounding Ishtar would tear them to pieces. Yami had the right idea earlier, but not the correct weapon for the task. They needed a weapon that had not been conjured.

He searched for Rishid in the bellowing winds, squinting against the dirt, dust, and grass flying through the air. "Rishid!" he called when he found him, and he saw the Enterran look over. He felt a pang as he saw the tear tracks visible on his face. "Do you have a knife?"

Rishid blinked back tears, clearly struggling to think through his sorrow, but he registered the question and Yugi saw him pull the weapon from his side. The Enterran waited until the next gust of wind had died before tossing the sheathed knife to him.

Yugi nearly missed it as it sailed over his head but managed to snag it before it bounced away. He pulled out a strap of leather and used it to bind the orichalcum shard to the hilt. From within the sheath the blade gained a sickly green hue. Once he was done, he looked to Bakura. "We've got to find a way to part the Shadows!" he called over the wind.

The thief sighed, regaining his feet after a second's pause. "Bloody hell, how did I get stuck playing the hero?" he muttered. He met Yugi's eyes and said, "Leave it to me. He has the Orichalcos, but the Shadows are mine—they always have been."

Without replying any further Bakura blurred once more, until his own body was swallowed by the darkness. All that Yugi could see were red eyes gleaming from the depths of the dark.

The sinewy form slithered across the glass, solidifying into a spear that slammed once more into the wall of Shadows. This time, however, a golden gleam erupted from Bakura's chest and the barrier slowly started to part. Green lightning began crackling in protest, a high-pitched whine that clashed against the Shadows, but it could not hold.

Bakura's body reformed inside the cleft made by his own power, his arms spread as he pushed outwards; the thief was calling on the Shadows within Ishtar's barrier to push it apart. His voice was a strangled snarl, giving one short order:

"STRIKE NOW, WIZARD!"

Yugi wasted no further time. He could not afford to, not with so much at stake; even though he was exhausted and did not know how much more magic he could perform, he still had to try.

"Peridere lapidem," he said sharply, waving a hand over the hilt. He felt a warm tingle leave his fingertips and a shoot of magic flew into the hilt; the orichalcum briefly gleamed in response, the spell binding to it and the weapon. Yugi straightened then, looking for his target—and then all thought fled, his face draining of color.

Marik was standing in the center of the maelstrom, the Eye of the Shadow items gleaming brightly on his forehead and a green light gleaming in the spot where he had stabbed himself—Ishtar's portion of orichalcum was hovering in the air in front of Marik's heart. His eyes were shut, magic the only force holding him up.

For one wild moment Yugi feared it was too late. They had delayed for too long and Ishtar now had hold of Marik. Then Yami's voice reached him, cutting over the beginnings of his panic: It is not yet too late. Look.

Yugi forced himself to look at the grisly sight, his eyes moving across from Marik. They landed on a barely visible Ishtar his hand outstretched towards Marik; his left arm was the only part of him that seemed to still have mass, but it was steadily starting to disappear. There was a thin tendril of Shadow connecting them, akin to a chain.

A grimly determined expression replaced his frightened one. There was still time. He stood straight once more, his grip on the dagger tightening, and then without any further hesitation he threw it.

At first the wind caught it and carried it, the dagger spinning in the air clumsily. It seemed it would veer wildly off course. Then, mimicking Yami's earlier gesture, Yugi waved his hand sharply and his enchantment activated, seeking the other shard of orichalcum. The knife cut through the air, passing over Bakura's head and honing in on the single point of green light in the darkness.

Ishtar shook his head, only mildly concerned about what was coming toward him.

He had seen what was happening through the barriers he had put up and felt only amusement. Did these people truly believe that they had a chance? At this point nothing could stop him. The process of binding himself to Marik's body was almost complete; any moment he would be have total control of his former host.

He'd had to admit, however, that he had severely underestimated his weaker half. He had not thought Marik would have the strength to do what needed to be done—had it not been for the power of the Orichalcos, Ishtar would have died the moment Marik had stabbed himself. Dartz's gift had proved itself useful.

From where he was behind Marik, he saw the blade hurtle along the path the thief had cleared and toward the stone in front of his chest. He rolled his eyes and lazily snatched the blade by the hilt, the point just shy of where his shard of orichalcum hovered in the air. Ishtar saw the matching stone tied to the blade and almost laughed. A clever plan, but it was for naught.

He looked through the opening at the mortals watching him and waved the knife tauntingly. His eyes landed on Rishid and he felt pleased that there was no burning at the back of his skull—with Marik dead, the protective spell on the servant's face was no longer effective in pushing him back.

He thought of taunting them, of mocking them for this last ditch effort before tossing away their last hope. Or, he thought with a grin as he looked at Rishid and his sister, perhaps it was time to get rid of them once and for all. Maybe once he finished taking his host's body he would end what had been started long ago—

And then he froze.

His left hand had tightened around the blade, but Ishtar had not been responsible for it.

As he registered this development with shock, he felt fire ignite behind his left eye and he recoiled from it, fighting to maintain his grip to Marik. What…what was happening? It couldn't be...it could not be possible!

You are me, and I am you. You die when I die, and I can only die when you do—you're still alive, and so am I. Didn't it occur to you that this caveat goes both ways?

Marik's quiet voice suddenly echoed through his mind, and Ishtar felt a small presence that he had not noticed before flare to life.

It's time to end what was started long ago—that's what you thought before, right?

His left arm began to slowly pull the dagger toward the floating piece of orichalcum, the weapon slowly but steadily coming closer. Ishtar fought to stop it, calling on the Shadows to disrupt Marik's intentions, but nothing happened—he was stretched too thin, torn between the Shadows and a corporeal form, and the Shadows were negated by Dartz's ancient magic.

Now stay dead, damn you!

And for the second time that day, Marik drove the dagger home.

This time the tip of the Orichalcos-infused blade lodged itself into the stone, and poisonous green lightning flared from both the dagger and shadows—and then there came a sharp crack and the orichalcum shards exploded. Green light burst outwards, blinding in its intensity.

For the second time that day, Ishtar screamed.

As the orichalcum broke apart, another scream of denial resonated like a thunderclap as one final shockwave blasted outward. Bakura had been pushed to the limit of his own strength and had even started tapping into Ryou's own life energy in an effort to part the barrier, and the final push against him proved to be unconquerable. His body instantly vanished, the Ring bouncing and rolling away into the grass.

Yugi shielded his eyes against the flare of light, and just before he was forced to look away he saw that both the shadows and the power of the Orichalcos had been forced back off Marik, pooling behind him to reform Ishtar.

The whirlwind suddenly died, the eerie howl of the wind ceasing instantly. Marik's body hit the charred ground with a sickening thud, his ties to Ishtar completely severed. The spirit stood stock still, his mouth snapping shut as he registered the shards of orichalcum in the grass.

Ishtar looked up at them all, his head cocked almost comically, and then he began to chuckle.

The small giggle rose in pitch and intensity until he was practically howling in laughter, the sound never ceasing even as the wind started to rise and roar once again. The triumphant cackles bounced off of the stone walls, mocking and terrifying echoes all around them.

Ishtar's body exploded outward, dark shadows burning away and out of sight as he disappeared, his laughter still audible—

And as suddenly as it began, everything stopped.

The blood of Seers had long flowed in the veins of the women in the Ishtar clan.

Certainly it had diluted. The gift of seeing the future, even before the Tauk had started being worn by the matriarchs, had come and gone with varying strength. By the time Ishizu had been born this precious ability had all but vanished from their clan. No visions, no warnings of what was to come…nothing, not even after the powers of the Millennium Tauk had been added.

But instead of that rare ability vanishing altogether, as was expected, Ishizu was the first child in decades who could truly harness her gift. As a young girl she'd had snatches of foresight even before she was presented with the Tauk, and the Item only served to amplify her power. They had been limited in when it came to Marik because of his connection to the Millennium Rod, but her power had grown since the clan had been dispersed.

The greatest and cruelest of ironies was that those recessive powers had finally allowed her to see Marik's future without the aid of the Tauk. Not snippets or flashes of image and sound, but an honest to the gods vision—and it had been of her brother's death, an unpreventable event that occurred literal seconds after she had seen it.

As the wind died she found herself already walking towards Marik's lifeless body, to the brother she had only just been reunited with. Ishtar had vanished in the first step she took, then the wind died within the next three…ten steps away…six…

Ishizu made it halfway to Marik before her knees gave out beneath her and she buckled, sinking onto the scored and charred ground of the garden. An impossible heavy pressure settled on her shoulders, the atmosphere still thick with remnants of Shadow magic. The sobs clawed at her throat but did not escape. Rishid had passed her and was now standing over Marik with shocked eyes and an expression still too incredulous to be anguished.

Because it was not possible. Marik could not be dead.

And yet…

There was not very much blood, she noted dully. She could just barely see the small red patch that marred Marik's shirt; he'd probably never felt the moment of his death. Her eyes lifted to the lax features of the boy's face, something deceptively tranquil about his expression, and felt something inside her shatter.

She watched silently as Yugi came to them, his eyes overbright. "This belongs to you," the wizard said quietly as he held out the Tauk, a tremor in his voice.

He turned away, striding to where the Millennium Ring had fallen to gingerly lift it and deposit it in a pocket of his cloak, before he reluctantly made his way to the fallen Millennium Rod. He recoiled from the sight of Marik's blood on the still visible weapon, but after dropping a cloth on it he sheathed the dagger and tucked it into a belt loop in his tunic.

She lifted the Tauk with numb fingers, mechanically fastening the clasp and letting it settle once more around her neck. Instead of feeling comforted she felt distant and cold—there was no point in seeing the future now.

In the distance they heard the distant sound of a dragon's roar, and as they looked into the sky he caught a flash of silver and white barely visible and coming ever closer. Kaiba and Alister were almost here, and with them would be the rest of Jou's men. The tides would soon be turning.

When Ishizu's attention returned to Marik it was to find that he was no longer lying on the ground. Rishid had finally sunk down to lift the boy's body into his arms and was holding Marik close to him. She could not see the emotions of her older brother's face, but she recognized the trembling in Rishid's shoulders all the same.

He was repeating something over and over again, and at first she did not register what she was listening to. She leaned closer, trying to understand what he was saying.

"Marik…Marik…Marik…"

And then the significance of that one word dawned on her, and her heart wrenched and broke. The tears finally started to fall as the first of choked sobs escaped her, and she threw her arms around both of her brothers as she broke down.

Jou ducked underneath a halberd and used his sword to cut through the wood, spinning on his heel to plant his opposite foot in the man's chest. "Get out of the way!" he roared, deliberately stepping on the newly fallen guard to make sure he would not rise.

It had taken him about ten minutes of dodging strikes and knocking men down, but he had finally located Jean Claude in the chaos. The other man had been trying to sneak out of the room, but Ryou had intercepted him and had pushed him back to the throne. Jou was currently trying to make his way over to Ryou and Jean Claude, knowing that a dagger and potions against a sword forged from the scales of a White Dragon was a largely one-sided fight. However—

"Dammit, get out of the way!" he growled, shoving another man aside. "I don't have time for this!"

Someone backed into him and knocked him off balance. Jou yelped, nearly hitting the stone floor. A hand caught him by the arm and hauled him back to his feet before he could.

"Sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was standing," Raphael apologized, steadying the shorter man. One man lunged at them, and Raphael's arm shot out and planted itself squarely in the man's chest; because their opponent did not seem to have a weapon he was trying to swing his fists at them. Raphael held him back with ease, nearly rolling his eyes.

"Don't be, pretty sure I tripped over you," Jou replied hastily, snarling as he lashed out with his sword to keep another enemy away. "I need to get over to the throne! Jean Claude's over there!"

"So why aren't you going?" Tristan asked, casually kicking away the man that Raphael was holding back. The guard staggered into a group of battling men, disappearing in the chaos.

"Because these idiots won't let me by!" Jou snarled.

As Jou's eyes moved to the throne he saw Ryou stiffen in mid motion, his eyes wide and his features draining of color. He was wide open for an attack and as Jean Claude swung his sword at him Jou roared, "RYOU, PAY ATTENTION!"

Jean Claude's sword sliced through the air in front of Ryou, and the white haired man barely managed to avoid the blow. There was a motion Jou couldn't quite catch, however, and then Ryou tumbled and fell against the wall, the dagger bouncing away as it hit the floor.

Jean Claude did not take advantage of Ryou's situation. Instead, he sprinted for a space on the wall, and Jou realized where Jean Claude was going with growing horror. As his enemy pushed in a brick and the passage opened, Jou shoved his way through the crowd. "Jean Claude! Don't you dare, you coward!"

The passage closed behind him before Jou could get there. He slammed his fist into the same brick that Jean Claude had pressed on, but it was of no use—Jean Claude had sealed the passage from inside.

Raphael and Tristan had followed after Jou. While the steward went after Jou and also began ramming his shoulder into the wall, Raphael came to kneel beside Ryou. The young man was clutching his shoulder, and his face was pale and drawn. His brown eyes were blank but impossibly wide, stunned disbelief plainly visible. "Are you all right?"

Raphael caught the sight of blood on the front of the boy's shirt and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You're hurt. Don't move."

Ryou blinked and then rubbed his eyes, taking note of the blood. "I thought I'd dodged him," the white-haired teen replied shakily, grimacing as he looked at his bloody palm. "I guess I hadn't. I-I'll be all right, I've got a small amount of healing potion on me."

Ryou's voice trembled and Raphael's heart sank. Something had happened that had made Ryou only barely acknowledge his wound, and if he had to wager a guess it was linked to with the battle with Ishtar. "Ryou, what happened? Does it have something to do with the others who went after Ishtar?"

"I-I'll tell you later," Ryou said, his voice curt and pained. "Right now, I…I need to take care of this wound. Stop Jou from dislocating his shoulder on that wall."

Raphael hesitated before he reluctantly left Ryou to come behind Jou and Tristan. "Can Jean Claude get out of the castle through that passage?" he asked them.

"No, he can't, there's no way out of the castle through there. That's not the problem!" Tristan grunted, stopping to catch his breath.

"Then what—?"

"There's one other passage you can get into from in there and it leads to only one place!" Jou said, ramming his shoulder one last time into the wall. He paused, breathless and panicked as he met Raphael's gaze. "He's going to the north tower!"

It took Raphael only seconds before he realized the significance of this location, the color draining from his features.

"Is there a way you can intercept him before he gets there?" he asked, his voice strangled and only barely level.

"Yeah, but that means getting out of the throne room first. Because Ryou sealed the other exits, I've gotta go through the main door!" Jou replied angrily. "It was a struggle just getting up here, and if I have to shove my way out of this mess I'll never make it in time!"

Growing even more panicked, Jou stalked to the edge of the raised landing they stood on and faced the battling crowd. A wild idea, borne of sheer desperation, came to him and he decided why not.

"WOULD EVERYBODY JUST STOP FOR FIVE SECONDS!?" he roared at the top of his lungs.

He hadn't thought it would work, and so when the whole throne room stilled Jou felt his jaw drop in complete surprise.

Tristan and Raphael were also completely flabbergasted that it had worked. "Leave it to Jou to do the impossible," muttered the brown-haired young man, shaking his head. Noticing that his friend was still frozen with shock, he strode forward and shoved Jou forward. "Go, man, before they recover!" he hissed.

Jou stumbled forward, but he recovered almost instantly. He straightened, then pushed his way past the stunned and silent men, enemy and ally alike. Once he made it to the main entrance, he turned to face the group.

"Er…thanks. You can, uh, go back to fighting," he said awkwardly, and to make a point he mimed swinging a sword.

There was another pause, and then the throne room erupted into pandemonium once again. Jou did not register this at all, already sprinting down the hall and into the room with the hidden entrance. He did not even pause to grab the torch. Within seconds he was hurtling headlong through the darkened passage as he ran along the practically memorized path.

Don't let me be too late repeated in his head like a mantra, so fervently so that at times Jou was unsure if he had been saying it out loud or not. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had to get to the tower before Jean Claude did.

Téa had heard them coming first and reached for a thick oak staff, standing as the horn sounded and the clatter of hooves over the drawbridge echoed through the gates. Those of the troupe and the less wounded of Jou's allies had been taking down any of Jean Claude's guards that had made it out into the court yard, preventing them from either escaping or attacking the severely wounded. They had been kept busy since Jou had moved into the castle.

Next to her, Jethro started and reached for his own weapon as he heard the horses; he had been sitting nearby Adias and watching tensely as the only healer the troupe worked to save Corda. There had been other wounded, roughly three quarters of Jou's remaining men of the castle, but they had been cared for by the time Corda had arrived; they were stable enough to be left on their own, many of them unconscious or too badly battered to allow them to stand.

Adias groaned, and though his expression conveyed irritation there was no mistaking the uneasiness in his eyes. "Oh for the love of—now what?" he groaned as he lifted his spear back into his hands.

Téa watched in uneasy silence as the horses entered the courtyard, about thirty or so men in the group and all armed. One of them, a handsome young man whose long black hair was tied back in a ponytail, spotted her and nudged his horse towards her. His green eyes found her and lit with recognition, and Téa lowered her staff as she realized where she'd met him before.

"Lord Devlin, what brings you here?" she asked, relaxing. Behind her, Jethro, Adias, and the few men who could still lift a weapon backed down, though they still watched the armed unfamiliar men as closely as hawks.

Duke dismounted in one smooth motion, and Téa started as a young woman clothed in yellow joined him at his side. "I'm Mai's cousin. It seems she's gotten herself into quite the mess," he replied. "Knowing her, though, she's got things mostly wrapped up by this point—I'm just helping with crowd control. Why are you here? The last I saw you was when you were visiting with your troupe last summer."

"Small world," she responded with a sigh. "More than one of my friends ended up involved in this."

Duke's head shook, his eyes moving over the wounded in the tent. His expression softened as he turned his head to look over his shoulder. "Jarrod, Saul, help these men take care of their wounded."

"Where's Princess Mai?" the black-haired woman demanded as two men passed her, both of them heading to help with the injured guards. "Is she all right?"

"I think she's in the throne room with the rest of Prince Jousef's men," replied Téa. While she did not yet know the name of the other woman, she was certain she was a friend of Mai's; the fine yellow silk gown was proof that she was at least in employ of a noble.

As Duke started directing his men and as the woman in yellow disappeared into the castle, Téa caught a movement from the corner of her eye and her expression brightened when she saw Yugi coming toward her. Behind him, Rishid and Ishizu were following him slowly, and she caught sight of Marik being cradled in his older brother's arms; the other boy must be unconscious, because he wasn't moving. Téa returned her attention to Yugi, and when she could not see any wounds on the wizard words failed to express her relief

"Yugi!" she called ecstatically, already half jogging to him.

There was another flurry of movement as a prone man on the ground suddenly sprang to his feet and rushed her; the enemy guard had been unconscious earlier, knocked out by one of Jou's men as he had escaped the castle. She caught sight of Yugi's alarmed face before she neatly pirouetted in place, using both her arms and the momentum of her twirl to slam the staff against the side of the man's face.

She waited to see if he would rise again, but after a couple of Duke's men restrained him Téa continued on her way to see Yugi. She had been happy to see him, but as she drew closer she caught sight of the red-rimmed eyes and the dejected slump in his shoulders. She felt a strange wave of pressure around them, the atmosphere thick with grief and something she couldn't identify.

"Yugi?" she asked cautiously, kneeling in front of him to make eye contact. "What happened? Are you all right?"

Yugi met her gaze reluctantly, taking a steadying breath before he managed in a wobbling voice, "We fought Ishtar."

Téa froze, suddenly worried. She had never seen Ishtar for herself, but she had seen and heard what he was capable of and knew any encounter with him would only end in tragedy. Yugi looked fine, but what of Yami? Was he hurt? She caught sight of the Millennium Ring and felt a new stab of concern—Bakura would never willingly let anyone take hold of the Ring.

"Did…did you defeat him?" she asked uncertainly. She had full confidence that he had, but at what cost had yet to be explained.

The shorter boy spasmed, shooting a look to the Enterrans behind him before his face turned away from hers. "Marik…Marik was the one who dealt the final blow."

Téa looked over Yugi's head. She saw the open, raw and wounded misery that lined Rishid's and Ishizu's faces, and when she looked to Marik she finally saw the small splash of crimson on his shirt. She only had to stare at them for seconds before she realized what had happened. She paled, her trembling hands rising over her mouth. "Oh no…"

"H-He didn't…" Yugi was trying to talk steadily but failing. "Th-There wasn't a way t-to beat Ishtar, not without Marik d-dying. He… Téa, he…"

Yugi looked away then, his eyes too bright once again. "I couldn't help him."

Téa reached for the wizard and hauled him in for a hug before she could stop herself. Yugi practically sagged into her arms. A soft, choked whimper rose out of him at her touch. Though Marik was on the wrong side of the law, Yugi had still counted him as a friend and one he cared about—the Enterran's death had hit him hard, especially under such traumatic circumstances.

She started rubbing his back in soothing circles before she looked to Rishid and Ishizu, struggling to find the right words to comfort them as well. She was given no chance to speak, however, as the sound of beating wings from the sky and the shadow that fell over them interrupted the moment.

Téa's head shot up just as the huge form of a White Dragon flew over the top of the wall; she felt Yugi push away and even in his misery had already pulled his staff level with the sky. In the next second she watched as a figure leapt from the dragon, dropping towards the courtyard at breakneck speed; the man reached out for a banner hanging from the wall and used it to slow his momentum, though he ended up rolling and regaining his feet near the stables.

Duke and his men started in surprise at the newcomer, caught off guard by both his arrival and the dragon that soared away overhead. Even as they drew their swords, however, Jethro started forward and placated the new guards; he had been stunned to see the man fall from the sky, even more so when he realized that he knew this who this mysterious newcomer was.

Téa, however, ignored all of them and focused on the newcomer. "Go to the throne room!" she called. When his eyes found hers, she continued with, "They're in there!"

The red-haired man nodded once before he sprinted away, hurtling up the steps as he pulled out a satchel. Téa recognized it as one of Yugi's magic expansion bags, one that had been taken last night to help gather the remainder of Prince Jousef's guards.

Help had finally come.

Téa then turned her attention to Yugi, her expression softening as she rose to her feet and gently guided the wizard to the shelter of the awnings nearby; Ishizu, and then Rishid, followed after her, and once they were in the shaded area they moved for an unoccupied corner. All three of them desperately needed comfort, but Yugi was the only one who did not have a physical shoulder to cry on and so she stayed by his side.

Her heart wrenched when Yugi completely slumped against her with a shudder, and she heard the first sob leave him. She couldn't find any words to comfort him, because there would not be anything she could say that would bring him solace. Instead she just held him close and let him cry, her own vision swimming in tears at the sound of his whimpered sobs.

Oh Yugi…

Valon dusted his hands off, grinning after stomping on one prone man hard enough to make certain he was not going to get up. "Tha' was easy. None o' ya know how to throw a proper punch, do ya?" he asked smugly. "Too bad for you."

He'd heard Jou's yell and had stopped in place, nearly laughing out loud at the absurdity of what had just happened as he watched Jou cross the room. If there was ever someone who possessed the Devil's luck, it would be Jou—there was no way that should have worked as easily as it had.

The fight had resumed now, and though Valon thought he had seen Raphael by the throne he could not tell if his best friend was still over there. "You'd think it'd be 'ard t' lose a bloke that's over six feet tall," he muttered. "Raph, where'd you go?"

There was a step behind him, an armored boot planting itself, and he felt rather than saw the sword coming at his unprotected back.

What saved Valon from instant death was years of honed instinct and the leather vambraces protecting his arms. He turned and at the last possible moment managed to throw his arms up. The sword bit deep into the leather but did not pass through, and when he looked up it was to find Gurimo in front of him.

"So here we are again, boy," sneered the older man. "This time, no one is going to intervene on your behalf."

"Like I need help," Valon retorted, holding his free fist up. "Le's dance, ugly."

Gurimo twisted out of the position and pulled the blade free, causing the Aurosian to stagger backwards. The older captain struck then, and Valon was only barely able to throw his arm up in time; the vambraces could not hold beneath the strike, and while the weapon was halted once again the steel bit into Valon's skin. Blood soon soaked the leather and ran down his right arm.

Valon shut out the sounds of the combat around him, his vision tunneling so that only Gurimo remained. The instincts he had forged long ago in the fighting rings flared to life as he blocked out the pain.

You're up against a sword. Get in his circle, knock 'im outta stance 'n' e's vulnerable. Armored, slowed but not hindered—smart tosser, 'e took off tha' cape from earlier. No good going for the diaphragm 'cause you'll break your knee on tha' breastplate. Only open area is face and eyes—go for tha' glass thing, break it so shards get in the eye. Break his nose, make it 'ard t' breathe…

These thoughts only took seconds to register, and by the time Gurimo had stepped forward to deliver the next blow Valon was already darting forward. The sword whistled harmlessly past him as the boy threw a hard punch toward Gurimo's monocle, but just before his fist connected the other man seemed to realize what Valon was up to and turned his head.

Valon's punch ended up catching Gurimo squarely in the nose and he heard the crunch of bone; he also felt something embed itself in his fingers and snarled, already knowing he had at least two teeth in his fingers. Spectacular.

He darted back with a curse as Gurimo swung the blade wildly, barely avoiding being eviscerated. Don' let him recover, take 'im now while 'e's disoriented. Break 'is neck if you can by using the armor against him.

Valon practically spun around the sword as it sliced the air, his fingers hooking around the edge of the golden breast plate, and while maintaining his grip he dropped and used his full weight to try and drag Gurimo down. As an added measure, he brought his knees to his chest and aimed his kick at Gurimo's kneecaps.

Unfortunately the older man had recovered by the time Valon had caught the breastplate. He grabbed Valon's hand in his gauntlet and twisted hard, nearly breaking his wrist. The Aurosian yelled and let go, somersaulting just before Gurimo's sword would have caught him.

Regain your feet, don' let 'im push you—

But Valon was not fast enough, for the next strike of the sword cut into him behind the knee as he tried to scramble to his feet. There was not enough force to take the leg off, but he was forced to drop to dodge the next strike. Gurimo suddenly stopped in mid-swing in his next attempt, sneering at Valon, and the teenager realized too late what was going to happen. He was not able to throw his arms up before Gurimo's armored leg made contact against the Aurosian's head, and Valon tumbled into the wall. Dazed, he realized that he was not going to be able to dodge the next strike.

Gurimo smirked in triumph before he raised the sword over his head. "Valiant effort, boy," he panted. "But it's not enough to spare your life."

"Says the bloke who c'n now fit a spoon through his teeth," Valon retorted as he tried to force his vision to focus, noticing that he had knocked out three of Gurimo's teeth. "Gap-toothed git."

It wasn't one of his more brilliant comebacks, he supposed as he watched the sword start its descent. Hey, he was working with a concussion at the very least so of course it wouldn't be all too great of a retort—funny how one started getting sarcastic right before they died.

Just as Valon's vision cleared, Raphael suddenly moved from the left and put himself in front of the dazed Aurosian. The broadsword caught Gurimo's as Raphael took a hanging guard stance. "You've already taken one of my friends. As long as I stand here, you're not taking the other," he vowed, and he shoved hard to knock Gurimo off balance.

Valon sat up with some alarm, his vision still half spinning as he tried to recover. Raphael was mostly defense oriented in battles, and in all his time with the taller man Valon had never seen him go on the offensive; it did not help that Raphael was essentially top heavy and was likely still recovering from the overdose of the Leech Draught. None of those things affected Gurimo, however, and he was bound to a tough opponent in comparison.

Valon promptly took the thought back when Raphael moved first, the sword slicing the air. Gurimo's bloody face twisted into a snarl as he parried, but his grip loosened under the blow and he was nearly driven to his knees. He recovered quickly and tried the same strike that had crippled Valon, but Raphael sidestepped out of the way and delivered another blow that pushed Gurimo further from the Aurosian.

Soon Raphael had driven Gurimo into the middle of the courtroom, his sword almost blurring out of sight. Valon would have never guessed that Raphael could move so fast, given how tall and burly he was, but then he remembered his older companion's earlier refusal to wear armor. No wonder the blond had gone without any armament—he was faster than anyone could have guessed without it.

It was not just the speed and strength behind Raphael's strikes that was giving his friend the advantage. Raphael's countenance bore indignant and righteous fury, grimly determined to prevent Gurimo from getting at Valon and to avenge Alister; if he had to wager a guess, Raphael's frustration and helplessness at all that had happened during his time at the castle was also fueling the man's drive. Gurimo had vastly underestimated his opponent and he was clearly paying the price.

Valon took a moment to gather himself before he slowly rose to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall for support. He started forward, not intending on missing a bit of the fight, but his wounded leg gave out on him and he nearly fell face first onto the ground.

An arm caught him and he looked up. "Thanks, Ryou."

"No problem," Ryou said tiredly. Valon caught the sight of blood on the man's shirt. "Let's get over there, shall we?"

Concerned as he was, Valon found that he couldn't ask about the wound. They pushed their way past the other men silently, and though the combat was going on around them at least ten others had stopped to watch their respective captains battle.

Just as they reached the front of the group Gurimo dipped under Raphael's sword and planted himself in his opponent's personal space, trying to knock the burly man off balance with one of his shoulders. Raphael instead pivoted out of the way, bringing his sword hilt down on the back of Gurimo's head and knocking him to the floor.

Gurimo fell with a startled curse, hitting his broken nose on the throne room floor. He howled but recovered, forcing himself to his feet as he reached for his sword—but then Raphael took three large strides and kicked the sword away. He pointed the blade at Gurimo's exposed throat and instantly the other man stilled.

"I win," Raphael said coldly, his expression forbidding.

Gurimo blanched. Seconds later, however, he had recovered. "And so you do. What now? Is this the part where you give me death? It would have meant that I taught you something, if you're going to end an unarmed and defenseless man's life. Alister would be proud," he sneered.

Raphael's features twisted, his grip on the sword hilt tightening to the point where his knuckles were white. "The one person who has the right to end your life isn't here to claim it. You want to die? Do it on your own time," he spat, turning away. "I'm not interested in being a coward's executioner."

As Raphael looked around, he noticed that the number of Jean Claude's men had dwindled. He spotted Valon standing near Ryou and made his way over, frowning when he registered the blood marring the skin over the smaller man's eye. Honestly, Valon, how many times do you have to get kicked in the head before you—

There was a loud cry of rage from behind him, and Valon suddenly started forward. "Raph!"

Raphael turned, registered Gurimo rushing him with a large hunting knife, and only just barely dodged the attack. The other man barreled into his side, however, and Raphael could not keep his grip on the sword. He staggered backward and fought to keep upright, wincing as he felt the knife slice his arm when Gurimo slashed at him again.

Raphael regained his balance and held back, hoping to get a clear shot at retrieving his weapon. A few steps further, he was uncomfortably aware that his back was to the throne room entrance—he could only hope that an enemy would not take a leaf from Gurimo's book and fire an arrow at his unprotected back.

"That's the problem with you Beryllians—you assume we follow antiquated standards of conduct!" Gurimo said wickedly, kicking Raphael's sword away.

"So not stabbing someone in the back is an outdated rule of combat?" Raphael retorted with disgust. "I'll keep that in mind."

In the next second Gurimo's grin grew and without any warning he threw the dagger. Raphael did not move fast enough this time, and he let out a pained yell as the knife embedded itself in his right leg. He nearly buckled, gritting his teeth as he tried to stay standing. Much to his alarm, Gurimo had already picked up his own sword and was advancing on him.

"No weapon, no way of dodging," Gurimo said triumphantly. "I'd say I've won this fight."

Valon suddenly moved in front of Raphael, and much to the older man's surprise the Aurosian was carrying Raphael's sword. It was evident the young man had hardly ever lifted a weapon, for his stance was off and the blade shook from the effort of holding it up, but he had somehow broken away from the chaos around them.

Gurimo did not seem bothered by this change of events. In fact, he looked amused. "I can see that you have no ability with a sword, boy. As for you, captain, you can't even stand straight," he sneered. "This should be pathetically easy."

With those parting words their enemy lunged forward, lifting his weapon. Valon's grip on Raphael's sword tightened as he braced himself for the next attack, while the burly man behind him readied himself to push Valon away—

Then, over the sounds of the battle raging around them and over their allies alarmed cries, a sharp and piercing whistle rent the air.

I whistle to warn. I do it only once, because by then the arrow is in motion. When you hear it, stop what you're doing—trust that I have your back. That whistle is a promise that no harm will reach you.

Alister's words, spoken so long ago but not forgotten, sounded through their memories; though they had no way of ever knowing, it had happened at the same time. They looked to each other once, realizing what it meant, and then did something that not one of the men surrounding them expected.

Raphael and Valon simultaneously dropped their guards.

The sword slipped from Valon's hands, landing on the floor with a clatter. Neither of them made a move to defend themselves, staying in place as if they were made of stone as the piercing note of the whistle was swallowed by the sounds around them. Gurimo's face twisted into a triumphant smirk as he got closer, realizing that they were now completely at his mercy—

The first arrow streaked past dueling pairs as it crossed the space from the throne room entrance to them. The projectile came in between the upper spikes of Valon's fluffy hair, slamming hard into Gurimo's throat and causing him to stagger backwards. Gurimo gagged as the blood started soaking his skin and running down his armor, stumbling about as he tried to pull the arrow free, but then his gaze fixed at a point behind Raphael and he blanched.

"I said I would come for you. Wonder of wonders, here I am."

There was barely any time to register the familiar voice before the second arrow came, following the path of the first and this time barely grazing Raphael's right earlobe before it continued past him. The deadly projectile dug itself deep into Gurimo's left eye, followed by a third arrow that brushed past the left side of Raphael's neck to bury itself in Gurimo's other eye.

Gurimo went down without another sound, dead before he hit the floor, but already Raphael and Valon were turning to see what their opponent had.

Alister was planted squarely in the entrance to the throne room, holding his bow and another arrow at the ready. His gray eyes briefly met Raphael's and Valon's and he offered them something close to a small smirk.

"Hi," he announced pleasantly, and then he released the arrow.

Raphael did not see where the arrow went, because suddenly from behind Alister there were more men pouring into the dismantled throne room. At first he was on guard, fearing that these were reinforcements for Jean Claude, but when none of them targeted Alister he realized what he was looking at—the banished men of the castle had returned.

He relaxed then, looking to Valon; his eyes landed on the still bleeding cut over the boy's eyebrow. "Are you all right?"

"Oh c'mon, fella, you kiddin'? I've been hit 'arder by old women," said Valon with a tired grin. He bent down to retrieve Raphael's weapon, then limped to the burly man. "You sure this thing isn' a club? Feels like one, anyways."

Raphael grunted, taking back his weapon. He shifted his weight off of his affected leg. "Looks like my secret is out. You've caught me—I'm part troll."

Valon snorted in laughter in spite of himself. "Alister rubbed off on you some, didn' 'e?" he asked. He sobered seconds later when he noticed Raphael fighting to straighten his stance. "'ow bad is it?" he asked, looking to the hunting knife.

"Nothing I can't recover from," replied the blond, grimacing as a dull throb began climbing up his leg. Thankfully the dagger seemed to have just barely missed anything vital, but it certainly impaired his movements. He would just pull the blasted thing out, but he didn't want to risk injuring his leg any further.

He caught sight of one of Jean Claude's men running toward him, weapon held at the ready, and gave a gusty sigh. Raphael simply hobbled out of the way and then caught the man in a headlock. He kept steady pressure on the man's throat as he looked over at Valon. "I have just about had it with all of this."

"Preach it t' the choir," Valon said, casually kicking over an enemy trying to rise to his feet. "The fights in the rings were worse than this. I still remember the idiot who decided throwing in a werebear in with the group brawl was a right brilliant thing t' do."

"A werebear? Is that even a real creature?" Raphael could not keep skeptical amusement out of his voice. He felt the man in his arms slump and he dropped the unconscious body to the ground.

"They are," Alister said suddenly, swinging his bow to knock over the man sneaking up on Valon. "Usually found only in Viernet. They make werewolves look like newborn puppies."

"Oh there you are! Cuttin' it close, aren' you?" Valon called over to him, gleefully kicking another man over.

"I got held up," Alister retorted. He casually stabbed an incoming opponent with one of his arrows before sweeping the man's legs out from under him with a low kick. "Kaiba has no sense of urgency."

Raphael stared at Alister with an unreadable expression on his face. "…You're alive," he managed at last. After another moment, he realized what was different about his friend and gestured to Alister's arms. "And your arms…how…?"

Valon flinched, looking over at the taller, burly man guiltily. "Sorry, Raph, I wanted t' tell you earlier," he said sheepishly. "Alister said not to, though."

"To be fair, I was dead yesterday morning," the red-haired man replied with a shrug, sweeping his bow in an arc around his head to knock down two of his opponents. "I'll explain everything later, I promise. How are you holding up?" he continued, directing the question at Raphael. He stepped forward and ducked under one of Raphael's arms to keep the man standing. "Judging by the knife sticking out of your leg, I'd say not so well."

Raphael shook his head, wincing as he started to hobble forward. "Gurimo managed to get one last hit on me," he responded. "It's not bad, but it's not good. I'll be all right. Right now we need to get to the north tower, that's where—"

"You can't help anyone with that leg," Alister said flatly. "We're taking you out to the courtyard and getting it taken care of first, then we'll go get Elya."

Still keeping one of Raphael's arms around his shoulders, Alister started to help him limp out of the throne room and away from the chaos. Valon delivered one final punch to one of Jean Claude's men before he hurried after his friends, keeping their slow retreat covered.

From ahead of them they saw a flash of yellow and saw Vivian dart into the throne room, her daggers glittering in the light as she wove her way through the crowd; she couldn't have applied very much pressure with her strikes, yet any she hit fell in seconds with gurgled, anguished yells. Those of Jou's men who knew Vivian grabbed their comrades who did not and instantly moved out of the way.

"Vivian!" Raphael called to her, and she glanced at him over her shoulder. He gestured to the men who had stepped back and away and said, "They're on Prince Jousef's side! Princess Mai's safe, last I saw her!"

She nodded, giving him a quick wink before she returned to the fight at hand. They continued their trek to the courtyard, keeping a healthy distance from the battles raging around them.

At the entrance to the throne room Valon stopped, already turning back to the chaos. "I'll be righ' there, fellas!" he called over his shoulder. "There's just one too many blokes in 'ere askin' to 'ave their butts handed to 'em!"

Raphael shook his head as his younger friend disappeared into the crowd once again, grinning in spite of himself. "Valon's enjoying this madness way too much," he remarked.

"Yes, well, he's a punch-drunk idiot most of the time anyways," Alister said shortly, though there was fond exasperation in his voice. He sobered when they passed a column and Raphael's leg brushed the wall, eliciting a sharp hiss of pain from the burly man. "In the meantime, let's get that wound taken care of. I think everything's just about wrapped up in here, anyways. Let the newcomers fight for a while—there's a lot they've missed out on."

Raphael couldn't help but agree. They soon reached the doors to the castle courtyard, but Raphael stopped as he caught sight of a group of men he had never seen hurrying up the stairs; Alister guided Raphael away from the rush of guards, moving to a spot out of the way. He looked to the red-haired man beside him for an explanation, who promptly shrugged.

"Don't look at me, I haven't a clue who they are. I had other things on my mind when I passed them earlier," Alister replied flatly.

Raphael sighed, leaning against the wall so that Alister wouldn't have to hold him up. "I'm getting too old for this," he muttered, suddenly too tired.

"You're barely twenty-four."

"Still too old. I'm just going to assume they're allies, because if they aren't I'm too tired to deal with them."

Alister smirked. "Duly noted," he replied, also leaning against the wall.

There was a brief silence that followed. Raphael could see Téa and Yugi underneath an awning by one of the walls; she was huddled close to him with an arm about his shoulders in a comforting gesture. Raphael remembered Ryou's agonized expression then, the corners of his mouth turning down and his heart going heavy. Someone they had known had died in the fight against Ishtar, and he realized he had a pretty fair idea of who had perished.

He found Rishid and Ishizu next, their backs to the castle. He caught a glimpse of pale blond hair over the Enterran man's arm and his jaw clenched. He only needed to take one look at the body language of Marik's siblings and his suspicions were confirmed—Marik was dead. He saw Alister's fists clench at his sides as he too saw what Raphael had.

This would be a tough blow for Valon. He'd been good friends with the Enterran, and even though they had suffered at Ishtar's hands Raphael still held a good deal of respect for the thief…had held, he corrected himself with a pang. Marik was gone now.

As the last of the reinforcements passed Raphael chose that moment to start limping down the steps. He paused, frowning before he turned around. "Alister."

The red-haired archer started, looking back at him and waiting patiently for his taller friend to speak.

"I'm glad to see you're alive," said Raphael gruffly.

Alister's eyes flickered with surprise as Raphael started forward once again, catching up to help the burly man down the stairs. When Raphael looked down it was to see that the red-haired man's expression had softened for a brief moment.

"Same to you," said Alister quietly. "The idea you'd perished…it was unsettling, to say the least. Let's not try to die any time soon, yeah?"

Raphael smiled in earnest. "Yeah."

He caught sight of one of the towers looming over him, and his smile disappeared. Had Jou made it to the tower in time? Was the princess safe and sound?

Was Elya safe?

He didn't know, but as soon as his leg was taken care of he was going straight to the north tower to find his wife. Raphael had been powerless to protect her before, but this time he would not fail her again. With that thought in mind, he made for the healer as fast as he could.

Elya had heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and had just enough time to push the chest of drawers in front of the bedroom door. It was not easy, as it was both heavy and awkward to maneuver (especially given her current condition), but all the same she managed to position it just as she heard keys scraping in the lock.

She took a steadying breath, her thumb twisting her wedding ring back and forth as she put herself in front of the barricade. Elya could only hope that Jean Claude did not already know about the small gap in the wall that led into the room behind her; when they had been locked in this tower, Elya had found the space just shy of the room's corner, where the walls had not quite matched up. She had hidden that space behind a tapestry that had been left in the room, using it only when she was certain Jean Claude was not watching.

Elya watched as Jean Claude pushed open the door, the man striding into the room quickly and with an urgent expression on his face. His eyes darted around the room, and Elya noticed that his clothes were torn and cut in places; in one of his gloved hands, he carried what appeared to be soaked handkerchief, a strange smell wafting in the room in his wake. Then she stiffened when Jean Claude's gaze landed on her, his eyes taking in the barricade before he looked to Elya.

"Elya, my dear," he said, only the barest hint of civility in his voice. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Her chin lifted and her fists clenched at her sides. "I don't think I can make it any clearer than I have," she said coldly. "You aren't taking her."

Jean Claude's eyes narrowed. "You think you'll stop me?"

"I can try." Elya lifted her head higher. "You've kept us prisoner up here and used us against our families. Until now, I've been powerless to stop you. Not this time. If you want the princess, you're going through me."

The man let out a scornful laugh and stepped forward. "Oh, my dear, don't be rash. As if you could stop me," he said derisively, reaching out to grab her arm.

Elya did not hesitate. As Jean Claude's hand grabbed her, her other hand rose and in seconds her open palm slapped against Jean Claude's cheek; her wedding ring, twisted around to palm side, caught the flesh of his cheek. Jean Claude recoiled as if bitten by a feral cat and let go of her arm. Elya took the chance to push him back, and the man stumbled. She nearly cheered when she saw the slash traveling from the middle of his cheek to his ear, the mark already starting to bleed from where her ring had caught him.

"That was for my husband," she said viciously, furious triumph coloring her voice.

Jean Claude's hand rose to the cut in his cheek, and as his fingertips came away bloody his eyes widened. Rage twisted his features and he strode forward. "You are not the first woman to hit me, but you will be the last!" he roared, his hands going for Elya's neck.

Glass shattered from the window and Eatos flew into the room with a furious shriek, her talons slicing at Jean Claude's arms; from behind the barricade Elya heard Shizuka let out a startled yell. The man howled, stumbling even further back from Elya; he kept his grip on that strange cloth in his hand, in spite of what was happening. Eatos ducked beneath his flailing arms and struck wherever her talons could reach, each strike leaving a bloody slash in her wake.

One of Jean Claude's hands reached out wildly and finally managed to snag Eatos' leg. Ignoring the way she pecked at his gloved hand with her beak, he strode to the window with a furious snarl and tossed the eagle outside, closing the shutters to bar the eagle entrance.

"Eatos!" Elya almost started forward, but halted just short of the sword being pointed at her.

"Now, woman," Jean Claude panted, his eyes blazing, "get out of my way."

Elya hesitated before shook her head slowly. "I will not," she said quietly. "I meant what I said: to get to the princess, you'll have to go through me."

Jean Claude scowled at her and opened his mouth to respond when he paused, his expression twisting with surprise. Elya didn't understand why at first until she followed his gaze and she blanched, one of her arms rising protectively over the curve of her stomach.

He knows, she realized with horror.

"Now isn't this a delightful little surprise?" he asked, a thoroughly ugly bark of laughter escaping him. "How did you manage to hide that from me?"

He took advantage of her temporarily stunned state and strode forward. Before Elya could react he snatched her arm, pulling it up as he grabbed her other free hand. "You're lucky that my standards have not sunk low enough to murder a pregnant woman," he hissed. "But I won't have you interfering with my plans."

As he spoke he pinned her arms with one of his own as he pulled her back to his chest, then used his free hand to force the handkerchief over her mouth and nose. She let out a muffled but frightened scream as she fought to get away. The scent rising from the cloth was overwhelming, her vision already swimming and the room spinning wildly as she weakened.

"Jean Claude!"

The shout had come from the doorway, and Elya caught sight of blonde hair and a woman in a tattered white gown. The world spun one last time, and then all was dark and she felt herself falling away.