Channelknight Fadran

Fadran sat down on a log, gesturing for Queen to do the same.

Fadran followed her, summoning his Channelblade to his hand just in case.

"What's so funny?"

"Great." Fadran grabbed a pen, wrote a note to the others to let them know that they were okay, then stood up.

"'Do something' is Fadran lingo for 'can we run off into the forest together so I can rant a lot.'"

"I used to do that. It didn't really work."

"Nope."

"They won't get you." Phaedrus said.

~~ONE TIMESKIP LATER~~ Night had fallen, but the smoke of Ironclad fires could still be seen in the distance. Phaedrus watched them from her mountaintop, eyes moving only to make sure her baby dragons were still sleeping peacefully. Ollie walked to Phaedrus, curling up underneath her claw. "Will we be okay?" "I believe so," Phaedrus replied. "I hope so." A wind picked up, blowing loose snow, followed by the sound of beating wings. Wings louder than that of the Warden. Phaedrus took in a breath. "Keep your head low, Ollie. The Guardians don't take well to disrespect."

Trace drew upon her pain, screaming as she released a massive burst of energy. She didn't bother to look where it covered; she only needed to do that to heal herself. Any mortal wounds became... well, not closed, but not quite as dangerous. At the very least, it'd take her a couple hours to die rather than a few minutes. She could work with that. All she had to do was find her way back to Cruz. He could heal her. Hopefully. She got to her feet, stumbling back onto the ground about eighty times. Her dagger found its way into her hand; a comfortable weight, if impractical. "Cruz..." Trace muttered. "Just have to get... to Cruz..." Wait. Hadn't there been one more assassin? Janice screamed first. As far as Trace was concerned, Janice couldn't even feel the sword run through her chest. The girl screamed nonetheless. Trace didn't have the energy to scream. She just looked down at the point protruding just beneath her sternum, a tear of pure pain slipping down her cheek and off her chin, falling to the floor and mixing in a small puddle of blood. Her eyes shut, and more tears flowed. Why? Why was all this pain and suffering so inescapable? The sword was pulled out of her chest, making her scream and collapse. Her vision went blurry and dark, and she couldn't hear anything. The last thing she saw was the assassin leaving her for dead, and a steadily growing pool of red among the cobblestones. Dead. She was dead for sure this time. Trace passed into unconsciousness, lying lifeless in her own blood. Her breathing shallowed and heartbeat slowed. Janice was still awake, though; unable to feel. Barely capable of thought. She knew Trace's pain, however. She knew it. She had felt it before. She knew the tears; they were like her own. They were her own. I'm sorry that you had to understand my pain, here at the end of it all. Janice said. I'm sorry that's the last thing you had to feel. Trace didn't reply. She was basically dead, and incapable of replying. Janice waited to die, leaving her last thoughts for herself. Cadenza... She whispered. Cadenza... I'm so, so sorry... I'm never going to see you again.

Trace jumped aside another explosion, launching herself into the air with a quick burst of power. Her arm still hadn't healed; maybe she couldn't heal large wounds completely? Well... limitations or no, she could win this fight. The swordsman suddenly bent his sword, transforming it into a boomerang and hurling it into the air after her. Trace pushed herself out of the way, but the boomerang still cut a gash into her cheek. She tried to heal it, but found that she couldn't. So it was made of the same stuff that the nobleman had? Maybe she should've gone for that assassin first. Regardless, when she hit the ground, she continued running towards the archer. The archer started running away, dropping an arrow to explode behind him. Trace easily avoided this, ducking as the swordsman threw his boomerang/sword (sworderang?). She left the swordsman to her back, running at full speed towards the archer. She was gaining on him, despite her inferior legspan; soon, he found himself blocked by a wall, unable to escape. Trace prepared her knife, picking up speed and catching the archer. She stabbed him in the back, not killing him but enacting a terrible scream. He fell onto the ground, clutching the wound. She grabbed his arm, spinning him over onto his back to finish him off. Trace raised her dagger above the man's chest, aiming for the heart. He grinned, blood dripping out from his mouth, and held up a small box with a button on the end. "NO!" Trace screamed, shying away. The archer detonated all the arrows in his quiver, releasing a massive explosion. Trace was engulfed by the flame, thrown far away from the archer. She left a trail of smoke as the explosion hurled her back to the main courtyard. Trace didn't remember hitting the ground; she was at a point where all agony was just the same. No pain could be stacked onto what already existed. She was dead. There was no way she wasn't dead. Not yet, child. The Queen said. I'm not done with you yet. Trace released an agonized scream as she tried to lift her head or even open her eyes. As far as she could tell, her entire body had been burnt away. Nothing could've saved her from that explosion, or the impact with the ground that came afterwards. You're alive. Janice said. Oh, thank goodness. Trace struggled to even form thoughts. What... did you... All humans have Veils, apparently. Janice replied. Jay told me that. I never thought I had one, but... I guess you were it the entire time. You and your Queen had half-corrupted my soul. How... I saved you, basically. "Why?" Janice hesitated. I don't know.

"Something to clear my head."

"Yeah... but I need to do something first. I don't know what yet... just something."

The assassins charged her, each one brandishing their weapons: a spear, a bow, and a sword. The first ducked to the side as he approached, jabbing at her with his spear. She spun out of the way, sending a burst of force to knock him backwards. The bowman took to a wide curve around her, firing a shot at her. In that moment, she found herself fending off the swordsman with her dagger, catching his blade on the dagger's crossguard. The arrow hit the ground, but exploded behind her. She was hurled forwards, but caught herself with a burst of force that cushioned her fall. She rolled across the ground and came to her feet in one quick, fluid motion. She threw a dagger at the bowman, missing, but forcing him to dodge. The spearman ran at her, spear sparking with electricity. Would freezing her muscles make her incapable of using her Aspect? Could electricity be a constant source of pain to draw power from? Now probably wasn't the best time to answer those questions, though. Trace dodged his spear again, stabbing at him with her dagger. He spun his spear around in an arc as she did so, stepping back and clocking her upside the head with the spear. Trace gasped, falling backwards a few steps. It took her a second to realize that she needed to keep on her toes, so she only barely dodged another attack from the spearman. He ran at her, spear swinging in a wide circle. Trace ducked under one circle, then grabbed the spear to stop it on the second. Electricity arced up into her arm, contracting her fingers around the bar and making her scream. "Get her now!" The spearman shouted, though she didn't know to who. The pain only got worse, with punch after punch of electrical shocks making her scream louder. Her eyes contorted into a glare, and she released the power, centering the burst of force around herself. The spearman and his weapon had been blown to pieces, but the other two assassins seemed fine. After a second they took to comprehend the damage, they resumed their attacks. She dodged another explosive arrow, running around the swordsman to get at the archer. One down. Two to go.

"Because I'm terrible at following my own mentality."

Trace tried to stand, but a cry escaped her lips almost before the pain sparked through. She lifted her head, looking down at herself, going nauseous as she saw the sheer amount of red. The ground had scraped layers of skin off her right arm, leaving it bloody and limp. Maybe she should have invested in sleeves. The assassin walked forwards, pulling out a dagger. So now he used a weapon: after Trace was stuck on to the ground because her freaking arm refused to move! She grunted, then sent a massive burst of force at the assassin. Her arm healed--though not completely--and he was hurled backwards into a wall. There was a sickening cruch, and his body fell to the ground, limp. The pain in her arm and chest had dulled from blackout torture to mild agony, so she felt strong enough to get to her feet. She kind of doubted that he had been the only assassin... but she let her guard drop for just a second so she could rest. Three more people dropped down ahead of her, pulling out weapons of their own. Perfect. A challenge. She summoned her dagger to her hand, took to a stance, and waited.

Trace ran towards the light, unslinging her knife and picking up speed. Was nobody going to stop her? Oh, wait. Right. This was a freaking assassin school. Trace spun around, throwing her dagger. It barely missed the one following her, falling out of sight and into the bushes. It would return, though; just not right now. She ran at the assassin, pulling out a spare dagger. Trace slid her finger along the blade, drawing blood and giving her more power, though not much. The assassin wasn't wielding any weapon of his own... what kind of crazy martial artist did he think he was? Trace ran at him, boosting herself off the ground and healing some of the pricks of pain in her back. She prepared her dagger, reaching the apex of her flight. The assassin looked at her calmly. That probably wasn't good. He brought back his hand, then threw it forwards and hurled a ball of stone at her chest. It blew her out of the sky, throwing her through the air away from him. She gasped, then lost all breath as she slammed into the ground, tumbling further and eventually sliding to a stop. Okay. Yep. This wasn't going to be a pushover.

"But my children cannot be moved. We will have to stay here for a few more days at least." "We will send a Guardian to protect you." "You... would do that?" "Indeed. You are the one who warned us of the Ironclads; it would not do to leave you undefended."