it was inevitable, wasn't it? it seemed that no matter the world, peace wasn't always going to be an option. Stelle knew well what was happening– how long had she spent, holding back that.....monster herself from causing wanton destruction? she doesn't know. her limbs ache and her chest burns but there's no time to rest. but it's like some scene out of a movie, where in the last act, everything gets turned upside down. that or a nightmare she never wanted in the first place.
the lance forms within her grasp at the last moment, blocking a strike from a blade she knows all too well– one that was always wielded next to her, never against. anger flashes across her features as she pushed back, kicking up dust as a strike is launched back against the imposter– because that's what he is.
he isn't her partner, her fellow Deliverer, the one trusting her to reach the end of the story. this was nothing more than a what-if, twisted and malformed by machinations beyond even that of Lygus. this was not the Phainon she knew. but, a part of her whispers, it's what could have been. had she not ever agreed to join the Express, had she become only a researcher, then the cycles would continue. and Phainon would be left to wait endlessly, that pale dawn never coming, until the Lord Ravager was born and that boy from the country ceased to exist.
living proof of what would happen if she failed.
and then, fear settles in her heart. she knows that the original can't kill these twisted copies (oh how she has tried) but it wasn't the same in reverse– where.....was the Phainon she knew? on instinct does her gaze quickly flit about, as if she'll see his crumpled form atop the many ruins of Yesteryear, striking blue & white dyed with crimson. Dawnmaker doesn't lie embedded into crumbling brick either or slashed in half. that's a good sign. she chooses to see that as a good sign. maybe it means Phainon is somewhere else, being the hero he is, and doesn't have to witness this.
good.
Stelle grips the lance tighter, flames swirling and sparking around the tip. Her gaze never leaves the face of the Lord Ravager. those eyes are cold– empty. there's nothing like the smile he gave her last as the Vortex crumbled around them and she was sent back to the beginning. no emotion. nothing.
" Please. " she speaks firmly, voice refusing to shake and waver. it's pointless, talking will get her nowhere, but Stelle has to make the effort. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. " but he will, because Ravager or not, when has Phainon ever went down without a fight?
@blazars – SUBTERFUGE PT. 2












