Sustaining The King's Life 90 Dawn

"Abe… you're here." Orwell says, sighing in relief. "Did you get him?"

Abe nodded.

"What happened?" Lucas asks and lowers his staff which blocked Abe's arm. Abe nonchalantly backed away, looking at them blankly.

"Well, don't expect any word from Abe." Orwell says, clearly with effort. He can barely speak. "He protected me."

"What in the world happened to you? How are you protected?"

"I fought the enemy and Abe rescued me the last minute. It was a good thing he pierced through the glamour."

"Enemy?" Lucas asks. "Who would've done this to you?"

"Infernal magic." Abe says. "Not gone."

"Right." Orwell says. "He left his mark. How considerate,"

Lucas helped Orwell stand. "You have to explain. Faustina's missing."

"s.h.i.+t." Orwell mutters. "We have to get to her. Now. Her life is in danger, Lucas. I'll explain this later. Where is she?!"

Lucas gritted his teeth. "She's missing."

"I know where she is."

The red-tinge gradually vanished, melting away as the moonlight irradiated the three.

Silver, tousled locks with dirty clothes and gleaming amethyst eyes. A young man holding a wooden staff, pointing at their direction as its amethyst gem glowed. Ezekiel Johann Unsterblich just dispelled the infernal magic.

"I know where Faustina is." He says. "There's no time to waste. Follow me,"

**

Owen never saw anything like it before, much less heard of it. He knew marionettes could be defeated upon figuring what their essence is. Essences can be a lock of hair or an important object; an item that would mean 'something' to the captive. An item of sentimental value.

They said that your own feelings could be used against you, and marionettes, warlock dolls, are the proof of that. They use an object, or someone with memories belonging to you—to harm.

And that, for Owen, was the lowest of it all.

Tonight he experienced something out of the ordinary. He knew marionettes could be destroyed when you abolish their essence. One of the brothers defeated one through breaking a precious snow globe. It meant destroying a memory, an object they held dear into smithereens and forgetting it ever existed. It was a harsh thing to do—and even a harsher thing to experience alone. Owen couldn't attest to such evil, and he never entangled with warlock business even in the black market right after. They all avoided warlock at all cause because of their brother who learned it the hard way. The members of the faction heeded to his warnings, and never got convoluted into warlock dilemma.

However, this was new for Owen. Seeing someone use neither a sword nor a staff to defeat a rampaging creature of infernal root. Neither did she wielded violence nor did she use tactless tricks. This fragile young girl—barefoot and covered in soot, the captive of the marionette, only spoke in sheer honesty and empathy. All darkness seemed to be vanquished by good.

"How… did you do that?" was what Owen could say as he walked towards the kneeling Faustina, who was still embracing something in place of the puppet.

"Someone told me… everybody had their own origin. Their own root. No one was truly ever truly evil. Good nor bad. Everyone was different in their own way." Faustina mumbled. "I thought I could tell the marionette that… because I had an idea whose essence it possessed. I thought if I could convince it to go, then it would rescind."

Owen stared intently. "You def'ted the marionette without any violence, kiddo. Your plan was successful. You SAVED me. Tell me, who are you… really?"

"I—"

"FAUSTINA!" A familiar voice echoed from the further end of the tunnel, as light started to creep through slowly.

There was light now—warmer than ever before. Standing just meters away was Lucas Feuerlon, with a beat-up Orwell Lotheringwood, the vice-captain of the High Knights, Abe, and lastly, Ezekiel Johann Unsterblich. Faustina wiped her tears, and slid the object to her pocket. Lucas rushed to her side and embraced her tight.

"Faustina!" Lucas trembled as he hugged her. Faustina buried her face to his shoulders. Each memory the magicians made for her—for them—started to nudge her mind and appear. All fragmented memories of her and Lucas. They seemed too real—real enough it moved her heart. She wrapped her arms to his back, returning his embrace.

"I got s-so worried about y-you. Why? Why did you end up here? Look at you!" Lucas drew back from the embrace to stare at her bare feet ridden in dirt, her clothes ragged and covered in soot. "Who did this to you?!"

All attention s.h.i.+fted back to Owen.

"Don't look at me ly' that, young Feuerlon." Owen exclaims. "We were both attacked."

"Attacked? By who?" Asks Lucas.

"A marionette attacked." Ezekiel says. "It had an essence of someone close to Faustina. Faustina was its captive."

"And how did you end up here?" Lucas asks, irritated.

"I followed Faustina here," he says.

"Why you—argh… fine. We'll talk later." Lucas says, and then s.h.i.+fted his gaze back to his sister. "Can you walk, Faustina?"

"I'm alright, brother." Faustina says, and then she focused her gaze back to Orwell, and realized he was injured. She stood up and went to her teacher, her friend. They spoke to each other's eye. He was the one who probably knew Faustina best of all.

"What happened?" Faustina asks, seeing his broken spectacles as well. "Is this…"

"We will be talking about that later." Orwell says. "First we must go aboveground. The sewers reek of infernal magic and… filth."

And so they went back to the stairs, climbing to the top until they exited the sewers. Owen walked with Lucas, who were both silent and obviously knew each other. Ezekiel was with Faustina, whilst Orwell was being supported by Abe.

As the door opened, Faustina inhaled the impossibly sweet scent aboveground. There was no music anymore. It was dark, yet it wasn't night any longer. Faustina's chocolate-brown eyes met that of the rising light. It welcomed her with an illuminating warmth.
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"Good morning, everyone." Orwell whispers.

The dawn was now a witness to their first battle.

**

In the dark of the vast room was someone playing chess all alone. He too, welcomed the dawn tirelessly with a smirk across his lips. He moved and p.a.w.n and he pushed down another. A p.a.w.n defeated another one. He smiled as his eyes met the red, morning light. The dawn cleared the darkness once more and it conquered night.

"Ah… I knew she couldn't fail." He chuckles. "It was useless trying."

He stood up, and then sat on the edge of the bed.

Kissing the forehead of a sleeping beauty, he felt satisfaction. This was the warmth he needed. The dawn in living flesh.

"She's lovely." He says. "Just like you."