3AN: Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for uploading this like a month late, but a lot of things came up in between, and I couldn't quite get around to finishing it until now. That said, I hope you enjoy and appreciate this. It's probably my first real foray into writing tragedy, and I'm not quite sure how I did, so I'd really appreciate your reviews and critiques if you read this. This is a spin off of my WWTSLP? series.
Now, on with the story.
Late
A "what if?" story
"I can't say how long Veronica has left to live, but you had better hurry, I think."
Kiran ran through the halls of the Múspelli temple like a man possessed, heedless of the cuts and scrapes upon his body, or the heat and acrid, noxious air whose sulfurous stench only grew stronger the further he descended into the bowels of the volcano in which the castle had been built as Loki's words rang in his head, mocking him at every step.
•
"…That girl will be cast squealing into the flames, alongside dear Veronica," the woman tittered. "There's just one more riddle for you to puzzle out..." she trailed off, curling a lock of hair around her finger as she looked coyly at Kiran, whose face was contorted in rage. "Exactly how do you plan to defeat me? I'm so eager to see what answer you come up with."
"You, filthy witch! I will destroy you!"
"My, my, Summoner. You had better get a handle on that temper lest it destroy you instead."
"I don't need advice from the likes of you. Now die."
•
Fighting Loki and her forces had taken far too much time. Time that could mean the difference between life and death for Veronica. It was only after a long and arduous battle that ended with Loki being brought to her knees before the Askran alliance that that they were able to find out just where it was that Surtr was conducting the Rite of Flame.
•
"My, my. You've defeated me. I should have expected nothing less from you, Kiran! Hee-hee. Very good, my dears. I knew you'd get the right answer sooner or later. And now, for your reward...The king—and poor Veronica—await you in the temple where the Rite of Flame is conducted. The only way to reach them in time is by a secret entrance..." Loki smirked mysteriously.
"Tell me where it is, you snake," Kiran growled, grabbing her by the collar.
"Ah! I love it when you speak to me like that, dear! Here you go, Kiran," she moaned, paying little attention to the manhandling as she pulled a scroll from a pouch. "This map has the details. I can't say how long Veronica has left to live, but you had better hurry, I think."
"Why would you give this to us? Surtr is your master," Alfonse said.
"That is true, but it's not the whole truth... I have my own role to play.
"And we must face facts. Princess Veronica is irresistible," she added with a wry smirk that drove Kiran mad. "I'd hate for her to die just yet..."
"I'm sure," Alfonse said, entirely unconvinced.
"You filthy witch," Kiran spat out, tightening his grip on her collar as he glowered at the woman in his grasp. "You'll pay for whatever you've done to her. I swear it to the gods."
"Hee-hee, indeed? It seems as though I'm not the only one who finds the dear princess so dear, now am I?" she asked, running one purple-painted fingernail down the side of his face in an almost intimate manner that served only to enrage him even more.
"I believe that brings my part in this to its conclusion. It is time you challenged Surtr. Will you prevail, or will you die? Whichever it is, I'll enjoy watching from on high. Good luck, my dears!"
In another burst of light, Loki disappeared, leaving her laughter echoing across the volcanic plains.
"Loki!" Kiran yelled after her.
•
It was clear that Loki had designs of her own, though what precisely they were he had no idea—nor the time or patience to ponder them. Veronica was in danger of being sacrificed to the flames of a monster's ambitions—literally—and gods take him if he wasted his time doing anything other than trying to save her.
He had watched Laegjarn, eldest daughter of Surtr, offer herself up as a living sacrifice to the dragon Múspell in a effort to gain enough power to destroy him and his party.
Sadly for her, however, even that did not prove to be enough to best them. She had crumpled before their attack all the same. They had crushed her soldiers before tearing her down from her mount and watching as the flames that overtook her eventually caused her life-flame to burn out entirely, leaving her writhing on the ground in agony, blind and scorched from the inside out, before she rasped out her last breath, asking them to save her sister.
Despite the horrid sight he had just witnessed, Kiran, when he was able to look objectively at himself, was surprised to see just how little it had impacted him. Were this any other battle, witnessing something so gruesome would likely have rattled him far more than it had done today. He bore the woman no personal hatred or grievance, seeing as how she and her sister were nothing more than weapons for their father to wield, and having to see someone who likely did not deserve such a fate should have horrified him down to the very core of his being.
Rather, the princess Laegjarn was, he thought, more a nuisance. Someone who was getting in the way of what he had come here for. But he had a princess of his own to rescue, and with each passing second—with each new obstacle in his path—the knot in his stomach only grew tighter with worry. He was here only for one very particular reason, whatever else his allies might have come for: to find and save the life of the one person he loved and cherished above all others.
"That girl will be cast squealing into the flames, alongside dear Veronica…I can't say how long Veronica has left to live, but you had better hurry, I think."
The witch's words continued to ring in his head—a omen of ill things to come. Kiran continued to run, even as his lungs and muscles burned from the strain of running full pace in Múspell's deadly heat. His eyes stung, whether from the noxious air billowing about in the caverns they traversed or from Loki's warning echoing in his head.
"The king—and poor Veronica—await you in the temple where the Rite of Flame is conducted."
Kiran bowed his head and ignored both the pain coursing through his body and the cries of his friends and comrades—Alfonse, Sharena, Anna, Fjorm, and Hrid, as well as the other Heroes with them—as he outstripped them, bursting through door after door down the temple's long central corridor. The blood pounded in his veins and he felt his head hurt as his mind replayed Loki's words over and over in an endless, torturous loop.
"And we must face facts. Princess Veronica is irresistible. I'd hate for her to die just yet..."
Kiran felt his heart pound like thunder in his heart, and the blood rushing through his ears was so loud, he was certain that his eardrums would explode. No sound from the outside world could reach him over the clamor of his own thoughts, dragging up black fantasies of what could have happened– what could be happening right this very second!– to the girl that he loved. He wanted to scream but found that no sound would come from within.
He thought back to the day they first met– how utterly stricken he was by the silvery lustre of her wild, untamed locks and the crimson gleam of her ruby eyes. She had taken his breath away with a mere look and he felt like he had never quite recovered, floating along airily until recent events had brought him crashing back down to earth– painfully.
•
"Now," she spoke, turning her piercing gaze on to Kiran. Her blood-red eyes gleamed with interest for the first time since he had seen her. "Who are you, stranger?"
Kiran stood there, finding himself losing himself in her vermillion eyes. Crystalline pools of ruby, shining in the dying light of the sun's rays peered back at him, and he felt himself falling further and further into their depths .
•
It was in that instant that he knew his heart was no longer his own. That it was and would forever be held within the Emblian princess' fine, porcelain doll-like hands, to do with as she willed. He felt his heart sink and his stomach churn in worry as his imagination juxtaposed memories of happier days with images of his worst fears regarding what she must have been experiencing in Surtr's captivity.
Kiran remembered the feeling of first taking her hand into his own and how his heart felt like it would burst forth from his chest for days after. He recalled marveling at just how soft and cool it had felt against the warmth of his own, and imagined he could feel her reaching out to him even now and stroking the side of his face, taking away the heat of this infernal temple.
Sweat soaked Kiran's body, plastering his hair to his head, as the temperature grew even hotter as he rushed towards the inner sanctum of the temple though he hardly noticed it. The fear and horror swelling within his heart with each passing second chilled his blood and was certain he could feel his veins turning to ice as he pushed himself onwards. His vision narrowed as he approached the massive bronze doors at the end of the hallway, blocking out nearly everything.
Suddenly, his foot hit something round and he tripped, slamming hard into the ground.
"Kiran!" Sharena and Fjorm cried, as they struggled to catch up to him, with their other allies not far behind.
As they drew closer, the three royals and the Commander came to a halt as they saw just what he had tripped over. Sharena staggered back in horror, one hand covering her mouth as she went pale.
There, on the ground, lay a large pool of steaming crimson blood that flowed out from the decapitated trunk of a large, muscular body. The corpse of Helbindi, still clutching his wicked axe in one hand, lay before them in the stillness of death. Fresh scorch marks and burns marred his flesh where they could see it, while his head, smudged with soot and dried blood lay a few feet away, where it had rolled away after Kiran tripped over it.
"What…happened here?" Alfonse asked.
Another general of Múspell, laid low. But by whom?
"This looks like Surtr's work," Anna muttered, pointing to the burns.
"But…but why would he kill his own general?" Fjorm asked, helping Kiran back up to his feet with Sharena's help.
"I can't say how long Veronica has left to live, but you had better hurry, I think."
"I'm s-sorry everyone, but we'll have time for questions, later," Kiran said, wincing as he clutched his ribs. "P-Please, we've got to hurry. She's in danger." His companions looked worriedly at each other. Even after all this time, two years after he had arrived in this world, Kiran hadn't given up his attachment to Veronica. He let go of the arms holding him and stumbled unsteadily towards the doors, straining against them with both arms until they finally swung open.
•
At the center of the chamber, atop an ancient altar, stood the lord and master of Múspell, Surtr, the Ruler of Flame, besides a massive brass pillar. He stood in front of an enormous sacrificial fire-pit, holding his monstrous blade, the dreaded Sinmara, in one hand as he poured ritual oblations of butter and mead into the fire. Before him was his last remaining daughter, Laevatein.
"We have come for you, Surtr!" Fjorm yelled, pointing her lance at the king of flames. The two of them, along with Alfonse, then launched into some kind of argument, but Kiran found himself unable to pay attention to just what it was that they were talking about, for he had stopped dead in his tracks the moment he spotted the flames.
An icy chill crept up his spine and squeezed his heart tightly and he felt his stomach tighten up.
"…That girl will be cast squealing into the flames, alongside dear Veronica,"
Kiran barely noticed Surtr's youngest charge them or Sharena and Fjorm rush to meet her as Alfonse and Anna quickly surrounded him. The rest of his army ran forwards to meet the foe, but he found himself unable to focus on the battle whatsoever. His eyes darted from side to side, looking for Veronica, but to no avail. She was nowhere to be found, and Kiran felt the last shreds of his confidence ebb with each second that passed.
"Askrans! Where is my sister? Did you kill her?" Laevatein snarled, briefly breaking him from his fugue.
Fjorm tried to explain, "We–" but was cut off by her foe, who brought down her sword in a punishing blow that smacked Leiptr to the side.
"I cannot forgive this…As my father ordered, I—I will kill you. Not for Father. But because of what you have done. Every last one!" she shouted, bringing her blade towards Fjorm's neck, when—suddenly!
Sharena caught the sword with the gap between the halberd halves of Fensalir, stopping Laevatein's attack before bashing her back with her shield.
Fjorm, now recovered, disarmed Laevatein, sending her sword flying away, and the two lancers caught her neck between the cross of their spearhafts and brought her to the ground.
Kiran briefly saw them speaking to her before she took up her blade once more in their favour, before he continued stumbling around the edges of the battlefield, trying to find Veronica.
Not long after, the sound of thundering hooves heralded the arrival of dark-skinned cavalier who wore a mysterious mask and carried a regal blue tome. Like a silver-black wolf, he tore into his foes, hunting them down with a fury all his own.
"Valaskjálf!" Icy-blue spikes of magical energy tore through floor, impaling a group of unsuspecting Múspelli soldiers.
"My sister! Where is she?" he shouted, sending another cluster of arcane spikes into a mass of enemy soldiers. Looking around, he spotted Surtr standing atop the altar as flames swirled around him, growing hotter and brighter with each passing second.
"Where is my sister?" Bruno let loose with another spell from his tome, and this time, the mass of magical spikes was even larger, grinding through a wide swathe of Múspelli warriors like the maws of the Valfather's wolf, and leaving the path to Surtr, who had to stand in place to complete the rite, wide open.
"Quickly!" Alfonse yelled, "we must stop him before he can finish the Rite!"
Bruno tried to attack again, but his spells simply splashed off of the flames surrounding Surtr.
Even those flames, however, proved unable to turn back Hríd's innate mastery of the very essence of the ice that was his birthright, and as the royal cavalier rode towards him, Surtr felt his blood begin to freeze within his veins. The flames surrounding him flung missile after missile of burning murder at the Nifling prince, but he, with his icy blade, turned each ball of flame back at its master, scorching Surtr with the very powers he sought to claim. Taking a deep breath, Hríd drew back his noble sword, Gjöll, and rode into the flames, shouting, "Cross the Gjallarbrú!", before driving the Final River at the Swart One's breast and shattering the badge—and thus, the Ward of Múspell—that held up his cloak. Surtr stumbled back as Hríd, only lightly singed from the fire, rode away and circled back around to allied lines.
Surtr began to yell as the pain from having the Rite interrupted coursed through his body like poison.
"Y-You wretched dogs! How dare you weaklings interrupt the Rite of Flames?!" He clutched his head as he felt his body beginning to burn up before sweeping Sinmara out in front of him and slamming the haft of the weapon into the ground, thereby cracking the stone. "I'm not done yet…The Rite can still be completed even if I have to burn myself to do it!" At this, a massive wall of fire and brimstone erupted from the ground, as magma spurted out from the cracks like a geyser, stopping the Askrans from pursuing Surtr as he retreated further within the temple to regain his power.
The fountain of lava seemed like it would flow unabated and the two Nifling siblings confirmed that they would need some time to regain the strength to freeze the molten earth with the power of their blood, so the members of the Order and their allies sat down to lick their wounds and recover from the skirmish. Elixirs and potions were passed around as Heroes tended to themselves and their comrades.
•
Kiran staggered up the steps of the altar, which seemed to stretch on endlessly before him, intent on finding any available clues that could lead him to Veronica. With each step he took, however, he felt his legs grow heavier as he was forced to acknowledge, intellectually, though his heart screamed at him not to believe it, that Veronica may already have died. The dark thoughts in his head swirled around ceaselessly, maddeningly whispering in his ears, until he felt like it would have been better to have Surtr split his head open with his axe than have to suffer the fear and suspense that this short trek was bringing him.
He licked his lips but his mouth felt as dry as dust or ash. The dread pooling in the base of his stomach only became heavier as approached what he was certain awaited him at the top of those steps, nauseating him.
After what seemed like ages, Kiran found himself standing in front of the now-empty fire pit, which was large enough to fit two fully-grown men laying down lengthwise. He could find nothing within to provide any hint of the girl for whom he was searching. Part of him was relieved. Longer. Just a little while longer. He could put off finding out the truth for just a little while longer. He leaned his back a little and took a shaky breath.
A few seconds later, he unwillingly opened his eyes again and forced himself to look around, though he was certain that nothing good would come of this. There was, after all, only one place left to check. He turned to the right and began walking towards the gigantic brass pillar that stood beside the fire-pit.
He raised one hand and put a palm to the metal pillar. It was still warm. Leaning on it to steady himself, he took another halting breath and started walking clockwise around it.
It was when he reached the side of the pillar facing away from the side that he had entered from that the truth was revealed to him. There, bound to the pillar by a set of brass chains and manacles was the youngest princess of Nifl, Ylgr, who was badly burnt in several places but otherwise looked only to be unconscious.
"Fjorm! Hríd! Your sister is he–!" he shouted, before turning to look back.
To her left was another set of chains. Ones that lay buried in…a pile of ash?
No.
No.
Oh gods in heaven.
Oh God Almighty, please no.
As he looked closer, he saw a warped and charred golden crown poking out of the pile, and in that instant, his worst fears were realized.
His eyes begin to sting and he reached up to see what was wrong, only to realize that tears had started to gather in the corners of them. He thought back to days long past, filled with writing affectionate, if overly-eager, letters, exchanging little gifts and trinkets, and even a few daring cross-border excursions into Embla to secretly see the one he loved. All of these memories, which once brought him such sweet pleasure suddenly tasted like ash in his mouth.
Something pure was now tainted and burnt beyond recovery and he would never get it back. Of this he was certain. Kiran felt the world give out from under him, and it was in that instant that something within him finally cracked.
His stomach writhed in horror and revulsion and he felt like he would throw up.
He let out a wail that split the air and curdled the blood of everyone who heard it, wracked with grief and horror.
He grabbed at his face with both hands, nails digging deep into the flesh as he kept screaming.
He did not notice his friends and companions rush towards him at his cry as he dropped to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut and fell into the darkness of unconsciousness.
•
"Kiran…? Where are you?"
He heard a voice speaking to him from somewhere within the darkness in which he currently found himself.. A voice that knew him, and one he was sure he knew as well.
"Kiran? Are you here?"
"I'm here!" he cried back. Something told him that if he found the source of this voice, all would be revealed. "Right over here!" he yelled again, though he was uncertain of where exactly 'here' was.
"Kiran? Help me! Surtr is planning to sacrifice me alive!"
"I'm here! I'm here! Hold on, I'm coming for you! Just wait a little longer, please!" He felt himself running somewhere, though he knew not whether it was up, down, right or left.
An image came to him: two crimson orbs, each glowing like the setting sun, or the colour of blood.
"I'm coming!" he yelled again.
Another image: a wreath of elderflowers, studded with ruddy roses, which shone like the multitude of stars in the heavens above.
"Kiran!" the other voice cried, even louder this time. She, and it certainly seemed like a she now, sounded rather frightened, he thought, which only spurred him on faster.
This time, he saw himself walking unsteadily across the railing of a rather high up balcony, decorated with black and orange. A flash of silver turned from a dagger into a fork, feeding him a bit of cake, as the harvest moon above shone like a copper eye, conveying the gods' blessings to those below.
"I'm almost there!" he yelled back. "Just a little lon—"
"Kiran." this time the voice whispered in his ear, cutting him off.
He whipped around, only to see the most horrifying sight he could ever imagine.
There before him stood the imperial princess of Embla, the girl he loved most of all, wreathed in flames.
And she glowered and she glared at him with eyes like burning coals, and he felt himself involuntarily taking a step back. She simply kept walking towards him even as he scrambled backwards.
"Kiran…" she muttered again, this time rather angrily. She took a step forward, and a patch of skin on one her cheeks caught on fire before burning up into ashes and flying away in the wind.
"Where?" another step, another bit of her skin burning up.
"Were?" Step. Burn.
"You?" at this point, her body began to be consumed by flames, turning her into a gruesome, burning spectre. Although her voice sounded normal, albeit with an undertone of anger, the buzz of crackling flames and the screams of a young woman as she was scourged alive by flames that ate her alive echoed throughout the space each time she opened her mouth.
"You said you loved me," she accused him, voice growing louder.
"You promised you would always protect me." The sounds of fire and screaming grew louder too.
"You swore to my brother you'd look after me." Her voice seemed to reach a fever pitch.
"I should have know better," she cursed bitterly. "How could some magicless, weaponless weakling have protected me when even I couldn't have done it myself?" Her question felt like a blade being plunged into his heart, and he felt like he was at once being burnt alive and drowned in the iciest of lakes.
"I hate you." The screams and the sounds continued getting louder.
"Wh-what?" Kiran stuttered out.
"I hate you, Kiran. You were too weak to protect me and save me and I hate you!"
The sound grew louder with each word until Kiran felt like his head would split apart into a thousand pieces and he clutched it tight with both hands, trying to block out the din—but to no avail. It pierced right through into his ears and felt like they were bleeding.
"I hate you!"
Veronica's form was now completely covered in flames and all that was left of her body was a slowly blackening skeleton standing atop a growing ash-pile. The only sign of life left about her was the fire swirling about her, licking away hungrily at her flesh and bones, and the flames of anger and hatred burning within the empty eye-sockets of her skull. The fire streamed out from her mouth as she spoke and rose up to join the larger blaze surrounding her.
The sound rose to a swell and Veronica burst into an explosion of white light. Kiran felt himself go blind and deaf until they suddenly stopped.
"But do you know who I hate even more?" she asked softly. "Myself."
Kiran opened his eyes, which until then he had shut tight. There, before him, was Veronica as she used to be in love. Small, slender, silver-haired, and red-eyed, kneeling before and stroking his cheek with one hand. It was still as cool as he remembered it.
"I hate myself for believing in your words. I hate myself for thinking you would save me.
"Do you know how I died, Kiran?" she asked, suddenly standing up.
"I don't…no."
"I died, crying and screaming as I was burnt alive, hoping that you would break through that door at the last second and save me."
She stood up and started walking away.
"Veronica…please wait."
She paused mid-step before turning her head slightly.
"But most of all…I hate that I let myself fall in love with you."
"No! Veronica, come back! No!"
Kiran's body started to violently shudder.
"No. No!" he shouted, as his eyes suddenly shot open. His sudden revival and subsequent outburst took all the Askrans who had crowded around him as he lay unconscious by surprise.
"Veronica?!" he cried, suddenly sitting upright, causing his hood to fall off, leading everyone present to gasp in surprise. In the time since he had passed out, Kiran's thick, black hair had turned stark white from shock, making him look as though he had suddenly aged several decades within the span of a few minutes.
Anna, Alfonse, and Sharena appeared suddenly, trying to see what was wrong, but he broke out of their grasp before scrambling towards the ash-pile on all fours and pulling out some kind of strange, charred oblong object, which appeared to have some sort of twisted, metallic frame attached to it.
"No…nonono," the Summoner muttered incoherently as he held the thing he had found close to his chest, hiding it from the others' view as he pressed his face into the ash-pile.
After a few seconds of sobbing, he sat back up, dazed and seemingly unaware of the ashes upon his form. All the while, tears streamed from his wide, unblinking eyes as he clutched the mysterious in his ash-covered hands.
"This…this is a joke right?" Kiran gently cradled the strange object in his arms like one would a newborn, causing more ashes to fall on him, though he paid them no mind. "Y-You're okay right? P-please…get up again. Call my name again, laugh at me again, mock me again, hit me again—do somethi—Veronica!" Kiran's cries rang through the air, laden with grief. Suddenly, he felt Bruno roughly grab him by the shoulder.
He saw Bruno stiffen as he saw just what it was the Summoner had picked up. The masked mage felt his mind shatter and the world nearly give out underneath him as he saw just what it was that the other man held. There, nestled in the Summoner's arms was a single human skull.
Any traces of hair or flesh had long since burnt away, and all that was left was pure white bone, charred brown and black in some places, and two empty eye sockets staring back up at them, almost accusingly.
The crumpled metal frame that was attached to it was revealed to be her crown, which had bent and deformed in the intense heat to which it had been subject. The golden chain Veronica wore upon her face had melted and fused to the bone inside the hellish furnace of Surtr's Rite of Flames, until it resembled a stream of golden tears flowing from where her left eye used to be.
Bruno let go of Kiran's shoulder and stumbled back, horror clearly etched across his face despite the mask he wore. He felt his stomach clench up into a painful knot and his heart drop like a leaden weight, while the blood pounding in his ears seemed like it would make them burst as a loud buzzing took over his auditory sense.
"Wh-what?"
Kiran looked up at his Beloved's brother and felt what little blood was left there drain from his face before jumping up to his feet.
"B-Bruno? Oh, Bruno," he said pitifuly. "No…nononono. No, I-I'm so sorry, Bruno. I– Veronica, she's…Bruno, Veronica," he babbled incoherently as he held up the burnt skull.
"What is…the meaning of this?" he asked. "Where is my sister?!" he shouted angrily.
Without even giving Kiran a chance to respond, however, Bruno turned upon him. Violently. "Rrrgh, You!" he growled. "This is all your fault!" The dragon's blood that flowed in his veins rose to a feverish boil, turning his vision red. Veronica's brother threw out a fist that caught the summoner right in the jaw.
Kiran crumpled to the ground atop the ash-pile, sending a cloud of gray ash into the air, and Bruno followed right after, jumping on him, straddling him, and clasping his hands around the other man's throat to choke him.
"You told me you loved her!" He drew back one fist and punched the Summoner in the face again. The impact of the blow echoed through the chamber.
"You swore to me you would protect her!" Another blow hit the Summoner in the face, and he began to bleed from his nose and lip.
Kiran did not fight back, choosing instead to accept Bruno's judgement. He just stared up at the other man expressionlessly, head swimming as he almost fell back into the embrace of unconsciousness.
Finally, Alfonse and Anna broke out of their shock and they ran towards the masked knight, pulling him away, kicking and screaming from their friend and summoner. They held him back, locking his arms and head so he couldn't move. Some other heroes restrained him as well.
Kiran slowly opened his eyes, wincing, and got back up slowly, waving off his allies' concerns.
Drip drip.
Some blood still dripped from his nose.
He shakily got back to his knees and began to crawl towards the other man despite his friends warnings. He looked up into Bruno's face, now gaunt and hollow. He looked into the face of a man who looked just like him, from the colour of his skin to, now, the shade of his hair. He saw in him a man who was as hurting and bereaved as he himself would have been had it been his own younger sister who lay murdered and burnt there. And he felt a surge of shame and guilt, along with understanding, well up within his breast, begging to be released.
Drip drip.
Kiran drew nearer to Bruno, before drawing his head back and driving it into the other man's stomach with a "thwump". Everyone thought he was trying to continue the fight and they moved to pull him away before one arm snaked around Bruno's torso, clutching him tightly. His body began to shake and faint sounds filled the air until they realized that their summoner was crying and hugging the masked man.
"Bruno," he wept. "Bruno, Bruno, Bruno, Bruno…I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
His wrath gone, Bruno felt his strength leave his body, and he slackened as well, going limp in his captors' grip. Alfonse and Anna hesitantly let go of Bruno and he fell to his knees as well, before throwing his arms around Kiran, who clutched Veronica's skull close to his heart with one hand and buried his face in Bruno's chest, body wracked with sobs.
"I'm so sorry, Bruno."
"…No. I—It was my fault for leaving her alone so much. And it was my fault for arriving so late," Bruno spat out bitterly. "I was the one who failed her…but all I could was take it out on you like a coward."
The two men who had so dearly loved the Princess of Embla held onto each other like a lifeline as they feel deeper into the abyss of grief.
Those present averted their eyes at the display in order to give the pair the space to mourn, and an dark, oppressive air settled over the company.
A few moments later, Bruno pulled away from Kiran, only to find him staring back at him with a dull, lifeless look, as though all the air had been sucked out from him. He doubted that he looked any better.
Kiran watched Bruno hold his head in one hand and shed tears in silence, a wretched grimace on face.
"Kiran…" Bruno whispered, his voice cracking . "We cannot falter…not now. Not yet. Not until we have taken Surtr's head," he said, bending down over the skull and pressing his lips against it. His tears washed away some of the soot and ash.
He looked back up at the Kiran before removing his mask just enough to let the Summoner look into his red, bloodshot eyes that burned with a murderous gleam. "Or will you let her suffer this death—this dishonour—unavenged?"
Kiran started and looked up at him, lost and despondent.
"Kiran, if you are a man, and if you ever had any love for my sister then stand up!" he hissed, pulling the other man to his feet by the collar of his cloak. He breathed heavily, taking great gasping breaths. "Will you falter now, like some craven? Or will you give her that which is her right?!"
He let go of Kiran's collar, but this time, the Summoner did not fall down again. His usual, easy-going manner seemed to be gone now. The air surrounding him felt cold, and the shadows that stretched across his face lent him a frightful appearance.
'I loved…' he shook his head. 'I still love her,' he thought to himself, holding Veronica's skull up before him with both hands. 'I already failed her once. I should be dead, just like her. But the gods would surely consign me to hell if I didn't do this now.'
"I…I will do what is necessary, Bruno."
The other man acknowledged his resolve with a mere nod before turning around to mount his horse once more.
Kiran knelt before the pile of ashes that housed Veronica's last remains, before bowing to them in supplication. He drew his fingers through the ashes that somehow smelled of roseblossoms and elderflowers. He touched something sharp, drawing blood from one of his fingers. Blood that fell onto her ashes as he drew his hand back, returning with a twisted metal dagger, upon which the marks of Embla's royal seal could faintly be seen.
'This blade…how often have I seen this in your hands, my love? And now, I suppose, I must be the one who carries it as a reminder of my failures.'
"I vow," he whispered to her. "Before all the gods and Heroes as my witness, I will either have Surtr's head or I will die trying." He drew his hand across his forehead, covering it with the dust.
Kiran stood up once again and took one last look at the ash-pile before turning around to face his allies, many of whom looked utterly horrified at his actions. He paid them no mind. "Let's go," he said hoarsely to Veronica's brother.
"K-Kiran?" asked Sharena in a small voice. He looked back at her with dull eyes that made her flinch away in shock and sorrow—this wasn't the friend she had gotten to know over the last two years. Crusty trails of dried blood flaked off from underneath his skin.
Kiran gave her a dry smile, though it did not reach his eyes, only furthering his mournful look.
"Let's go, Sharena," he said softly before turning to her brother. "Alfonse?"
The prince nodded with a small frown on his face as his sister shot him a worried look.
Bruno drove his horse forwards, towards the wall of flames, before letting loose with everything he had. His magic drove the stone together, halting the outpouring of molten earth, as he and Kiran rode over the remnants of Surtr's escape, further into the temple's depths. Alfonse rallied the troops behind them and led them through the now secure hallway.
•
Kiran lay on the cracked, scorched ground of the temple covered in burns and scratches as he clutched Veronica's blade. Towards the end of the battle, he had rushed forwards without anyone seeing, dagger in hand, and driven the blade into Surtr's breast, piercing his heart. Clouds of billowing steam burst forth from the wound, as streams of hot blood made contact with the air, burning Kiran even as the giant king fell. The Summoner had collapsed after slaying Múspell's king, and his companions gently lifted him up, carrying him out of the temple ruins into the open air. He finally began to stir as they sprinkled some water on his face.
"Kiran…how are you feeling?" Alfonse asked carefully.
The Summoner groaned as he sat up, his whole body aching. "Ugh…gods. It feels like I got run over by a truck." Everyone there was confused at the reference though they understood that he was hurt.
"Take it easy, Kiran," Sharena said, handing him some water. "You got hurt pretty bad." She let him drink a bit before asking him, "Why did you just jump in there at the end? That was so dangerous…you could have died!"
Kiran cooly took another sip of water, letting it moisten his throat and wash away the dust and smoke of the temple's interior. "I…what does it even matter at this point?" he asked bitterly.
"Don't say that! We still need you here!"
"…what for? Surtr's dead. Laegjarn is dead, and I doubt the other one is going to start trouble."
"B-but—"
Kiran cut her off. "Veronica is dead, Sharena." He let that statement hang in the air. "…and I kind of wish I were now," he muttered under his breath.
"W-what?"
"I said, Veronica is dead and I don't think Bruno wants a war with you guys." He looked over at the prince, who shook his head. "So. What exactly do you need me for now?"
Sharena was taken aback and found herself unable to utter even a word in answer.
Alfonse stepped up, and placed a hand on the Summoner's shoulder. "Kiran, you're our friend. We don't want to lose you. It's not a matter of needing you for anything."
Kiran gave the man a thin smile. "Thank you Alfonse, butI don't think I can do this any longer."
"Do what?" asked the prince, a look of grave concern on his face.
"Any of this," Kiran said, waving his arms around as if to gesture to the world as a whole. "The summoning, the fighting…it's too much for me. I've already failed Veronica. And you've seen just how badly that ended. I don't want to fail you too. I'm not worthy of being your Summoner, much less a member of the Order of Heroes."
"What—Kiran! Don't say that!" Alfonse exclaimed, shaking Kiran. "You've been an integral part of our victories up to this point! There's no way we could have ever come this far without you. Don't say that kind of thing about yourself."
"Come now, Alfonse," the summoner said, still smiling wanly. "Surely you can't mean that. At most, all I've really done is to summon the Heroes from other worlds to help you out. Apart from that, what use am I really? And besides, you've got a pretty strong army here now. You shouldn't really need me for anything more, right?"
Commander Anna stepped up, grabbing hold of Kiran's other shoulder. "Kiran! You're our comrade, just as much as anyone else. You've lived and trained and sweat and bled with us all the same. Don't you ever say that you're not fit to be a member of the Order!" she scolded him.
"I…" The Summoner was at a loss for words. "Thank you, Commander. It means a lot to hear that from you. But still. The fact remains that I find myself incapable of doing this anymore. Please…I'm begging you. Don't make me do this anymore." He looked her straight in the eye, and she was shocked to see just how dead his gaze looked. "I can't do this anymore, I can't, I can't…" he kept muttering.
"Kiran, please!" Alfonse protested. "We can't do this without you. If you're not there, who will welcome the Heroes and make them feel at home? This war might be over, but who knows when some new problem might rear its head, threatening all our worlds? We need you–"
"I cannot, Alfonse!" Kiran exploded, grabbing the prince by the collar of his tunic and forcing him to stare into his bloodshot red eyes. "I can't do this anymore! Haven't I done enough? What more do you want from me? Should I have killed Veronica with my own hands? Would that have made you happy?" he growled viciously, spittle flying. The Summoner stared the prince down, eyes wide and nostrils flared, his breathing heavy. Alfonse was terrified by this sudden outburst on Kiran's part, having never seen him behave in this way and stepped back in fear at his rage. Eventually, Kiran's breath steadied and he dropped his hand from the prince's collar. The tension drained from his body as though all the strings holding his body up had been cut. "I say that as though I haven't already killed her." Kiran chuckled mirthlessly before speaking again in a ragged, broken voice as tears fell from his eyes. "Please…don't make me shame myself any further," he begged.
Anna had seen many fellow soldiers—both friends and comrades—fall on the field of battle over the course of her career. She was no stranger to loss. But, she was also a professional soldier who had entered into this profession willingly. As had Prince Alfonse and Princess Sharena. But Kiran…how often had she forgotten just how Kiran had entered their comradeship? And now, she was confronted with the reality of his situation once more, only this time, it was in what might be considered the worst of ways. She herself had been personally responsible for dragging Kiran—Kiran who had been a mere civilian up until now—out of his own world and away from his friends and family before forcing him to join a fight which originally had nothing to do with him. It was truly a surprise and a testament to his good nature that he bore them no ill-will for it. But could she truly justify keeping him in the Order any longer? Could she really force him to keep fighting? As a soldier and a commander, her reason told her that she could and should. But as a person, her heart rang out against imposing such a cruel fate on someone else—especially one whom she had already wronged so gravely.
She hung her head in shame. "Kiran…we are—no. I am sorry. I pulled you into this world, out of your own life, and made you fight this war that had nothing to do with you."
Kiran stayed quiet.
Anna continued, struggling with how to break the news to Kiran. "But, you know…there is no way to send you back. To your home. To your own world."
The Summoner nodded. "…I figured as much. I was always too afraid to ask, but I have tried to prepare myself for this possibility," he said at last. Despite his words, Kiran's stomach grew heavy with dread. Hearing it finally stated so explicitly made it real.
An intense pang of guilt tore through and she looked away, biting her lip.
"So…" Sharena spoke up hesitantly. "What are you going to do now? Where are you going to go?"
"Where…?" Kiran stopped in his tracks. "I…I don't know. I just…I know I can't do this anymore," he answered, trembling all over.
Bruno rode up to the four of them on his horse. "Kiran. Why don't you come to Embla with me?"
The four of them were taken aback by his offer.
"What? To Embla?" Kiran asked, dumbfounded. "I…well, thank you, but what would I do there? Where would I live? I appreciate it, Bruno, but…I don't think I could stand living in the palace."
The masked prince shook his head. "No. I'm not planning to return to the palace. And I wouldn't leave you there alone, anyways," he said flatly.
"You're not going back there, Bruno?" Alfonse asked, putting everyone's confusion into words.
The other prince just shook his head. "Rather, there's…a little cottage hidden in the woods to the south, near the sea. Veronica and I used to visit it all the time in summer when we were children. It was her favourite place in all the empire, but she…she hasn't had the chance to go back in years. I wanted to bury her there…so she could see it again for the last time."
"Oh."
"I wanted to ask if you would take care of it—and her—for me."
Kiran was left nearly speechless by Bruno's words. "A-Are you sure you want me?" he asked quietly.
"I think she'd be happy if it were you. And I know I'd be a bit more at ease knowing that she was being taken care of by someone who loves her."
Kiran brought a hand up to cover his eyes and began to cry again, nodding his head. In between sobs, he nodded his head.
"Yes, yes. A hundred times yes. Please, let me…"
Bruno extended his hand to Kiran and pulled him up onto the back of his horse. The summoner clutched Bruno's cape with shaking hands to steady himself.
"Alfonse, Sharena, Anna, I…I'm glad I met you, even if I haven't acted like it," he said lamely.
An awkward silence filled the air, and he looked away guiltily.
Sharena bit her lip to keep herself from crying.
"A-are you really leaving us?" she asked.
"I'm sorry Sharena," he said in a quiet voice. The princess burst into tears and ran away from the circle, driving another thorn into the summoner's heart. He looked guiltily at Alfonse, searching his face, but the prince of Askr just gazed back at him with a stony look on his face.
A familiar emptiness filled the prince as he watched another good friend turn his back on and abandon him. An emptiness magnified all the more by the fact that this time, not only was it one, but both of his friends, new and old, who were leaving him once again. Perhaps…perhaps he hadn't been wrong at all. Perhaps his father was right. He should never have let himself get close to another Hero after what he had already gone through, and now he was paying the price for his folly.
Anna and Alfonse watched on silently as Kiran and Bruno rode off into the distance, the quiet disturbed only by Sharena's sobs.
•
Kiran turned around to look at Alfonse, Sharena, Anna, and the others grow smaller and smaller as he and Bruno rode away. There were no words of parting exchanged between the groups, nor any gestures to say goodbye. All that reigned on those barren wastes was the awkward, sorrowed silence that pressed down upon them with the same weight as did the hot air of the land that arose from the volcano behind them.
Eventually, they became like little specks of colour upon the horizon, and Kiran finally let himself turn around. He let out a sigh heavy with sorrow and tiredness as he slumped against Bruno's back.
"I…" he said after a long silence. "I really messed up, didn't I?"
Bruno said nothing.
"I think I hurt Sharena and Alfonse pretty bad. And I couldn't even say anything to them at the end…gods, I feel awful. I shouldn't have done that," he moaned into his hands. "But what else could I have done? I couldn't just go back and act like nothing had happened. I—I don't want to let my life be built on her body. And as much I love them, they never understood her. They never tried to understand her. And they never understood why I…cared so much for her. I couldn't bear to celebrate her death."
Bruno spoke up after a moment, interrupting the clip-clop of his horse's hooves on the dry, rocky ground. "Then, haven't you done the right thing? I knew I could always rely on you to understand her. And now, I think I can rely on you to respect her memory."
At those words, Kiran grabbed Bruno's cloak with two fists, and buried his face into the other man's back, crying into his own hands as the two of them rode off into the blood-red Múspelli sunset.