Legion of Light Gaiden: Miracle on a Silent Night

[Flames of Hyperion]

Ingwe awoke once again upon the barren moor, shivering from the insipid cold and dreadfully alone. The tears had come at last, streaming relentlessly down his face like some unavoidable waterfall, soaking the arm of his tunic that had been pressed into pillow service. The young man sniffled once and attempted to dry his eyes, but the action was in vain as a fresh deluge of violent sobs wracked his slender frame.

The warmth on his chest slowly faded away, and he was left with only a desperate sense of loss and solitude that threatened to tear his very soul apart. Clinging to the remnant shards of the dream, attempting to gather them to him before they slipped loose from his grasp… he hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms, unwilling to let go. Perhaps it had only been a dream, rather than the reality that he wished it to be. But then, what a beautiful dream it had been. Bittersweet and heartbreaking… but breathtakingly beautiful.

Yuka… he whispered in his mind, remembering vividly the faint touch of her fingers upon his. Fresh tears started to pour from his tightly clenched eyes.

A remote rumble pulled him temporarily out of his melancholy reverie, and he suddenly realised that the heavens too were crying, a cold and dirty rain drenching his hair and running down his cloak in channelled rivulets. Thunder and lightning sounded in the distance above the Lindequalme, sinister clouds mustering above the crimson forest in a dark sign of the Necromancer’s intent.

And still yet he could not move. His cloak grew sodden and soaked, the wetness of the rain and the cold of the winter air combining to chill his body to the bone, though it was neither the weather nor the temperature that kept him frozen to the spot. If he left, he felt as if he would lose what tenuous connection with her that the dream had given him; by remaining absolutely still, he could yet imagine himself in the deserted Academy compound, talking with her in a way that he had never been able to do before.

The tears slowed, then stopped altogether as he focused on the gentle smile that she had given him, just before the end. The emptiness within him slowly but surely replaced itself with a stern resolve; warmth spread throughout his body once again as he concentrated on the kindness of her eyes. His rasping breaths grew less violent, his body no longer battered by the vicious sobs. He had no idea whether he could trust the dream to have been true… but he could at least draw hope from it, could he not…?

In the end…

It never ceased to surprise him how abruptly he seemed to recover from his fits of depression. Almost as if the release of emotion was a spring in his mind let loose, spontaneously allowing all the pent-up negative energy to escape before closing the gates once more. His eyes were clear now, his thoughts peaceful and focused, concentrating upon the beauty of her smile and the pure joy of her presence.

… nothing changes…

An abrupt nip on his fingers brought him back to his senses. Hayate was awake and staring out intently at the shadowy darkness. Following his familiar’s keen gaze, Ingwe felt a frigid chill, colder than anything that the elements could muster, travel down his spine. The shadows… the night…

They were moving again.