Channelknight Fadran

Ellis is the Dark Lord. I've heavily implied who the hero is, but haven't outright said it. Y'know what, Connie? I don't even care. Just have Melody respond to the prophecy already.

Erethera spends his turn saving up his power.

Fadran deflected these, then ran at it with his Channelblade.

Under his breath, Fadran muttered, "cut off one head... two more will take its place. Hail Hydra." He proceeded to rever to the old ways of hurling fireballs.

"Pretty sure."

"No, I don't... I don't know anything."

Fadran grabs the turkey, hurls it twenty feet in the air, then transforms his Channelblade into a boomerang, throwing it at the bird and chopping its head off.

Ellis narrated the prophecy: Under the guise of night and clouds of day Shall rise once more to face a timeless threat A soul whose mind was cast away And kill a Lord without regret In her finest hour of that fruitless night A hero will speak a final breath Though fighting still, but lose despite A prophecy ended with the Dark Lord's death. The wielder of an ancient blade A master swordsman, trained by light Whose lives unnumbered must be repaid Perhaps not winning, but still in the fight In the end, her greatest friends may have died Gone from this world, but dark defied.

"That makes two dinners, now. I say we leave before we kill any more of these things?"

Where the heck was she? Alene looked around. "Hello?"

"Most of us are back at the camp. And her name is Queen; I'm not actually sure if she's a monarch over anything."

"That guy." Aerith thumbed at Concerto. "The kid's brother. I don't know about the amal."

"Anyways... Ayia, we're waiting for Herate and Martin to get back with Daolan. We're here in case things turn south. I hope you've still got the fight in you?" "Of course I do, dear!" "Don't call me that." "Why not, honey?" "They physically hurt me." "Fine, darling." "Stop." Ayia cracked a smile. "Very well, Fadran." "Thank you." He sighed.

"I don't know; and that's what scares me."

"We got attached to something--something we didn't expect to get attached to, so when we failed at saving it, we..." he crossed his hands, "what I'm trying to say is that I went in to save Chorale, but I failed... and I'm afriad there isn't anything I can do about it. I'll never see the kid again."

"Yeah. We shouldn't have felt so bad--we were only in it for the money--but we spent that night quietly sitting around a campfire. Why?"

"Remember that one mission we did?" Aerith asked. "The one almost identical to this one that ended in failure?"

"What I'm trying to say is that I wasn't just about ready to move onto logistical things. We were having a bit of a moment, there. I don't usually have those things."

"They almost definitely let us go. They had a plan, and we need to--" he stopped himelf, "no... not now. Not going to worry about it right now; and not just because you always berate me for strategizing late at night."

"That's not Chorale." Aerith said. "They forced her to transform into an Amal... and worst of all, they threatened me to make her do it. Had I never met the kid, none of this would've happened."

He turned around, back to everyone else.

"Then I can't forgive you."

"Prophecy? What prophecy?"

"You're sure you can't... let her out?" Aerith asked. "Find some kind of balance with her?"