“Second time I’m leaving the planet with you behind,” he said. “We’ll do what we can.”
“I know you will, son,” the Emperor said.
The two embraced tightly, Cyrus sniffling and doing his best to push back the tears. There’s no time for crying when you get up into space. Get it out now.
“I love you, Cyrus,” his father said.
Cyrus struggled to respond, but when he finally did, his words were muddled but the intent clear.
“Love you too, Pops,” he said, burying his head in his father’s shoulder.
The Emperor patted his son tightly, and this time, it was Cyrus who ended the embrace. He gazed at his father’s eyes and felt profound gratitude that he’d gotten to see him once more after leaving Monda the first time. The past couple of weeks had seen depressing and tearful lows and some short-lived highs, but the fact that they were spent with him made it worthwhile.
“OK, Crystil,” he said, turning back. “You lead the way. The three of us—it’s up to us to find a way.”
“Can you tell how long we’ve got?” she asked.
Cyrus closed his eyes, sensed the creature’s speed, and calculated the distance.
“Thirty-nine minutes,” he said.
“Then we’ve got to fight with everything we have and use all of the brainpower we got for the next thirty-nine minutes.”
And you’ve got thirty-nine minutes, Celeste.
48
The aura of magic surrounding Typhos slowly faded to reveal his completely healed body standing before Celeste. Physically, he looked the same as before—he had the same intimidating height, broad shoulders, and dominating stance that crushed opponents before his magic or sword ever did.
But Celeste could sense all of the magic had begun to warp his mind. For worse, his mind could not handle all of the power he had absorbed, and Celeste feared he was beyond the point of help.
“Welcome to the peak of Mount Ardor and your grave,” he said, his voice slightly distorted from all of the magic. “This place was once home to the most powerful magic in the universe. It still is, considering the power that the two of us share between us—three planet’s worth. But I have also added the power of this planet, and with it, any advantage you have is rendered useless.”
He slowly unsheathed his sword for dramatic effect. Celeste held her sword at the ready but did not anticipate an impending attack. She also sensed that the power Typhos had absorbed from Anatolus wasn’t as strong as she had suspected. The power of Mount Ardor had worked wonders at preventing people from sensing what was inside, but it hadn’t done much else.
“Your power is supplementary to mine. Vritrus heads for the planet. Your fight is over.”
“No,” Celeste said, walking forward, unafraid. “The fight is over when one of us is dead. You believe that you have accumulated indestructible and invincible power, but such arrogance blinds you to a few simple facts. One, we almost already killed you on Monda. Two, I am your equal, at worst. And three, the fact that you say the fight is over should prove something to you.”
Typhos murmured something incomprehensible. Celeste ignored it and pushed ahead.
“You’re still angry at me. At Cyrus. At your parents. If you truly believe that your victory is inevitable, then all of the suffering you feel should vanish. You should feel satisfied and rewarded for reaching a point where you know our deaths are imminent. But you aren’t.”
Celeste knew she couldn’t say for sure. The power Typhos had absorbed from Anatolus made it impossible for her to read his mind, so if he had, in fact, reached a place of peace, then he really was beyond saving. She could not persuade him with a hope if he had already fulfilled that hope.
But when Typhos hesitated and groaned, she knew her instincts were correct.
“You are right,” Typhos said, a surprising admission. “But still, it matters not. I have come to terms with the suffering that I experience because of my parents. I acknowledge it as a part of my life, now and forever. I recognize that I will feel emotional pain until the end of days. But do you know what else I have learned, Celeste? I have learned that all living things suffer. I have come to understand that suffering is not just something people feel from time to time, but it is the most fundamental aspect of living. If living things are not nourished, they suffer. When they do not have the company of loved ones, they suffer. When a loved one dies, they suffer. And when they die, they often face heavy suffering during the dying process. I have seen this throughout my life. Humans and Kastori live their lives trying to push away the moments of suffering, yet fail to do so in the end.”
He gave a laugh that sounded like it was supposed to be menacing but instead turned out tragic.
“So when you offer me a chance at ending the suffering, I know at best, you offer a temporary solution, and at worst, you offer a lie.”
“Why kill me, then?” Celeste said. “Why kill me if the whole point of killing me and Cyrus was to alleviate the pain, but now you acknowledge that the pain will always be there?”
Typhos snickered. His other hand went to his sword slowly, and Celeste went on guard.
“The easiest answer would be that by now, it has become so ingrained in my mind to kill you both that it is too late for me to consider otherwise. But that is only part of it. Suffering may be a fundamental part of life, but so too is vengeance. Even now, you and your brother seek vengeance. You come after me for what I did to your planet. You went after Calypsius because of what he did to Anatolus.”
“That was—”
“Defending yourself? Don’t be so pedantic, Celeste.”
No, he’s wrong. He would always hunt for us. Maybe suffering is a fundamental part of life. But he will never convince me vengeance is. Forgiveness can work wonders and eliminate the need for revenge, if not the suffering that came with the act that required forgiveness.
“Typhos, I won’t change your mind, I recognize that now,” she said as something inside of her changed. Her feet dug into the ground a bit further. Her hands tightened their grip on her sword. Her eyes focused more closely on Typhos. Her mind operated at a higher level. “All I can say is that in the end, yes, we all suffer, but I choose to focus on the joy of life. The joy of being with my father and my brother. The joy of falling in love, a joy my brother now experiences. The joy of liberating a people, as we did on Monda. Much of life is about which perspective you take, and your perspective has placed you where you are. That is a choice. Not a denial of reality.”
Typhos looked downcast, and for a split second, Celeste held out the hope that she had actually changed his mind. She took one step forward, though still in a guarded stance.
“You do speak some beautiful words, Celeste, and I have always admired how convincing you sound,” he said without looking up.
But then he raised his sword high into the air. Celeste paused, gasped, and raised her own in defense.
“But your words are useless. To pretend that joy can make someone forget about their suffering is foolish. All things suffer. All things die. Including this world!”
“Typhos!” Celeste cried, but she could not stop him.
He slammed his sword into the ground with a thunderous cry, one which seemed to reverberate across the planet. The world beneath her feet began to shake, and Celeste crumpled to her knees. She rose to one foot as she looked around. The steps behind her collapsed, leaving her trapped at the top of the mountain with Typhos. She looked beyond the edge and saw massive gashes forming in the planet. Lava spewed out of the ground, colliding with the waves which now enveloped the lone continent. An odd, green pulse of energy swept across the land and buried itself inside the cracks of the planet. His magic. Ultimus.
“Step back, Celeste,” Typhos said.
Feeling strangely compelled, she did so and saw a more pellucid barrier form. She could not see the specifics of destruction, but she heard massive rumbles and tears form. Suddenly, she had the sensation of rising. She went as close to th
e barrier as she could and saw the ground under her feet rising to the heavens, past the storm clouds and away from the mountain. She turned back to Typhos, who had a rush of energy coursing through his body, giving it a green hue.
A massive rip came, and Celeste stumbled back. Seconds later, she saw Anatolus explode, the massive eruption shooting debris all around her—but all deflecting away from her, as Typhos’ shield protected her.
It was done.
Typhos had destroyed his home world.
“Now you see what power I have and what I will do to your home world,” he said, his voice calm and even.
“You monster,” she said.
“Careful with your words, child,” Typhos said. “The only thing keeping you alive right now is my barrier. Destroy it, and you come to space. You will choke to death on a lack of oxygen. Rich, isn’t it? If you kill me, you die anyways!”
He laughed with much more menace than before. He pointed his sword to Celeste and grunted.
“I have given you many chances through our battles, Celeste. I am past the point of doing so. Your life, your journey, and your futile attempts at rescuing me from something I did not need rescuing from end here.”
“No,” Celeste said. “I will not say that, Typhos. In fact, I will not say that this is your last chance. At anytime, surrender, give up the hatred and the killing and join us. But if you don’t, I made a promise to protect those I love long before I show you mercy. I will have to finish you off. And despite my words and my temperament, I will not be afraid to do so.”
Typhos merely laughed and waved his hand toward her.
“Come,” he said. “Fight!”
49
Before Crystil could depart, she knew she had to deliver words that were unlike any words she had given before.
They were words that essentially told humanity and Kastori that their lives were out of their hands.
She hated it. She had always told someone they could control the outcome of their lives. She never wanted people to feel helpless. A sense of helplessness is what had driven Cyrus mad the first few days on Anatolus.
The people aren’t dumb. They can look up to the sky. They see it coming. She cleared her throat, stood on top of her fighter jet, and spoke to the crowd.
“To the survivors of the battle we just waged, I speak for the Emperor, his son, and Garrus when I say thank you for what you have done. Many of you have suffered wounds, and many of you have suffered the loss of loved ones or close friends. I am sorry for the casualties, but know that you have our profound gratitude for what you have done.”
Unlike last time, no one bothered cheering. They know. There’s no reason to cheer when you have death coming.
“Unfortunately, there is no point in sugarcoating what is about to happen. Garrus, Cyrus, and I are going to space to fight the approaching monster as best as we can. We do not have a plan because we do not have time to make one. We do not know if we can damage or destroy the creature because we have not had time to study it. We are the only ones who can stop it. The rest of you should—”
Crystil caught herself. Her voice became emotional. She couldn’t believe she was breaking, but what was the point? She had no standard to uphold. If she somehow succeeded in defeating the monster, no one would hate her for breaking down in her last speech.
“The rest of you should go home to your loved ones,” she said.
No one gasped in surprise. No one cried out. A few shed tears, and a few nodded in understanding, but all looked at her with uncompromising attention.
“We as humans and Kastori have reached our limits in what we can do to fight for our survival. It is up to the three of us now. All of you can go home knowing that you gave everything you could to save Monda. If we live through this day, we know we are capable of anything. If we fail… we fail with our heads held high, our loved ones in an embrace and our minds at peace knowing what we have done.”
Crystil nearly lost her composure as she saw some of the strongest men she’d known weep uncontrollably. It also hurt her that she had had her last intimate moment with Cyrus, yet would fly by his side. If one of them went down, their last memory of the other would not be the kiss and the three words that she knew were true, but of the other’s terrifying death.
“You are released from your duties, all of you.”
With that, she looked at the Emperor, who was about the only person who did not seem crushed and without hope. Odd considering his loved ones are fighting. Perhaps he just has more faith than us.
“I believe in you,” he said.
Crystil couldn’t bring herself to agree, so without a gesture or any words, she sat down in her seat, buckled herself in, and lifted the ship up. Cyrus and Garrus followed closely behind as the night atmosphere soon turned into outer space, the monster easily visible. Her ship showed that they would make contact in approximately twenty minutes. With the ship on a straight shot, she sighed and leaned forward.
“So, any ideas?”
Neither Cyrus or Garrus said anything. Crystil couldn’t think of anything. Her missiles, even when shot directly at the creature’s eyes, would feel like nothing more than a tickle to the beast.
“There’s no point in us being here, is there,” Crystil said.
She couldn’t believe she felt so defeated, but every rational part of her told her she had no chance. Even Calypsius, before the appearance of Erda and the other Kastori, seemed beatable if necessary. But a monster that could destroy Monda wasn’t just stronger than them, it was on a different level of warfare. It would be like if the Kastori had to fight the humans without their magic.
“Hey you’re going to tell me that you gave me all this great talk down on Monda about going down with a fight, and now you want to change your mind?” Cyrus said, his tone surprisingly cocky. Crystil felt a smile coming on, even though it felt futile. “Crystil, we’ve gotta work on our communication skills if this relationship is gonna work. I mean, you told me we never give up fighting but now just because the big bad monster of Typhos’ imagination has an ugly face, you change your mind? I don’t know, Crystil. We might need to get support from Celeste.”
Garrus couldn’t hide his laughter, and even Crystil felt a wash of relief and a smile.
“Silence doesn’t work either!” Cyrus said to more uproarious laughter.
“I hear everything you say, you little punk,” Crystil said with a huge smile.
“Uh huh, well, let me tell you something else, Commander,” he said, his voice playfully mocking.
But then it became serious slowly.
“We’ve pulled off some insane miracles in the past few months. Miracles that we had no business surviving. Do you think one more moment like this scares me? No way! If anything, I’m cocky about our chances.”
“You’re always cocky!” both Garrus and Crystil said simultaneously, drawing a knowing laugh from Cyrus.
“My point is, knowing us, we’ll pull a win out of nowhere at the last second, and one of us might almost die, but we’ll do it,” Cyrus said. “So what say you, girlfriend? Keep going?”
“Wow, already,” Crystil said.
“I said I love you! What more do you want?”
Garrus laughed so hard that he said he had to shut off his communications to recover. Crystil just laughed as well, back in a state where she felt purposeful.
“A nice dinner,” she said. “Then it’ll work.”
“Deal,” Cyrus said. “I’ll cook you a slab of this monster when we celebrate.”
Crystil chuckled and sighed.
“Thanks, Cyrus, I needed that.”
“I always come through, Crystil.”
Yes, you always do. You always do.
50
Celeste charged Typhos first, her mind cleared of any possibility of peace. He had made it clear what his position was, and so Celeste compartmentalized any thoughts of saving her brother. The man who I could save is my brother. The man who I am fighting is not my brother, but a demo
nized version of him.
She swung her blade, and the two swung with ease, both augmenting themselves with powerful red magic that enhanced their reflexes and their strength. Several times, their swords collided and slid on each other, creating sparks.
“Give it up, girl, no one has ever defeated me!” Typhos growled at one point.
Celeste kept her gaze upon him, lifted their swords up, and kicked him backward several feet. Typhos rose quickly and put his hand out, shooting a massive fire spell at her. Celeste responded in kind, using her white magic to create a powerful barrier about five feet in front of her. The two spells collided with vicious force, each one trying to break the other. The heat of the fire became intense as Celeste tried to push her barrier forward. The fire alternated between advancing toward Celeste and Typhos. But after a dozen seconds, Typhos dropped the spell and shouted.
“You do have very powerful white magic,” he said. “But I have greater endurance and will break you eventually.”
The two lunged at each other once more, their blades swinging and parrying at each other. Celeste again lunged for a kick, but Typhos was prepared, bringing his free arm to catch her leg.
But Celeste had done the maneuver as a feint and quickly pulled her leg back. She spun for momentum and brought her sword across Typhos’ arm. It caught his upper arm, drawing the first blood of the battle, as he staggered back to collect himself. Celeste, no longer in the mindset of mercy, charged again, determined to end the battle before Typhos had a chance to recover. The villain raised his blade and parried her attacks before launching her back with a red magic spell.
He raised his arm to his wounded arm to heal himself. Celeste launched a barrier spell at the wound, closing it off from recovery spells. Typhos roared in frustration. He raised his arms and cast a series of multi-elemental spells in succession, the endowments containing both ice and fire, electricity and water, and other combinations. Without the time to cast a barrier spell, Celeste instead raised her sword to deflect the spells. The spells sailed harmlessly out of the barrier, fortunately not ruining their breathing conditions. When Typhos saw that the spells had not damaged Celeste, he slammed his sword to the ground in frustration.
Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) Page 21