Eilert hadn't a chance to get his hand on the barrel of Sturm's pistol; as soon as he barely had a finger on it, Sturm let go with his left hand and pulled the gun away from Eilert's grip. With his left, he put forth a fair deal of strength to plant his hand into the orange enigma's shoulder and shove him away--an act which also served to cause Sturm to stumble back, as he didn't have enough balance on his feet to commit himself to any sort of physical attack, be it something as small as a shove. Sturm knew what Eilert would do--either sabotage the weapon or take it away from him--and he was prepared to take a swing at him to keep that from happening, if necessary.

Sturm was left glaring at Eilert for a moment, before his attention was back on Silver once more. He wasn't going to fight with Eilert, and especially wasn't going to use his single shot on the man--not only because he appreciated Eilert's life, but because he only had one shot. For that reason alone, he was more than willing to keep Eilert at a distance--at least beyond arm's reach. He kept his gun by his side, though; not aiming at Silver, as such would set Eilert off and have him go after the weapon again, and Sturm simply wasn't going to risk letting Eilert even have the opportunity to sabotage it.



Seeing the two of them experience a physical confrontation, however minor it may have been, had Icsorue upset. She didn't say anything, but she had her hands balled into fists and eyes fixed upon the floor. This was it--this was what she couldn't deal with, and why she was here. Any of these men fighting amongst each other was a terror to her; it could rip her heart to shreds. Not wanting to see that, she was there to prevent it, and she couldn't There wasn't a damn thing she could do, now, while she thought so much earlier about how and what, and had so many ideas--and couldn't implement any of them.

"There is no "working" between us," Silver announced, "Sturm wishes to keep the world as it is--unchanged, unaltered. I wish to change the world--to better it."



"You're wrong," Sturm retorted loudly, "I'm here to change the world; you're here to destroy it. Why don't you tell the truth, Silver? Your subjects are already starting to doubt you . . ."

"And how are you one to speak of doubt, Tyrian?" replied Silver, his voice booming from across the atrium. "You doubted me since the beginning. And that's why you began your research into shades. Through the Gold enigma's fear, they were born into this world, and I directly ordered you to leave them be. But it was through your doubt that you sought them; you brought them here as subjects, and you nearly developed a single shade to control them all. But when you did, you gave them life--form, figure. Yourself and Gold--the parents of this darkness, this plague upon our world."

Icsorue interjected suddenly, taken aback by what Sturm and Silver were saying. "Wot the . . . wot the hell are ya talking about?! Research, making shades, her . . . fear--wot the hell does all that mean?!"

Silver threw his arms open, palms facing the ceiling. "In the beginning, there was nothing. No light, no dark. Then, Gaia birthed what we call reality; the blank existence was a canvas for His imagination and His will, and through His desire, the light and dark was born. Gods, angels, demons, and men alike came to fear the dark--that which they did not understand, and so it formed to their beliefs, and in the light, they saw hope--and so it formed to their beliefs."



Silver brought his arms back down to his sides and continued: "And then, in the City of Sin, the home to the worst and most savage beings our reality has ever seen, a vast metropolis known also as the City of Fear-- a collective fear so expansive demanded more from the symbiotic relationship it shared with the dark, and the city became the site of the "First Midnight"--a phenomenon we later named, the first instance of shades in our world. It was a lingering darkness over a portion of the city, and we had the then Director Tyrian Sturm send his most capable operative to investigate--the one you know as Gold."

"She toughed through the worst that reality had to offer, and finally came upon the darkness. The woman with the strongest fear, who had not experienced the hells of that metropolis, whose reoccurring nightmare of the darkness swallowing and devouring her former family could ruin her spirit at just an allusion. Her shadow made contact with the lingering darkness, and the hungry Shades we know--the creatures of the End that slash and devour all that lives--were born into our world from her shadow, from her greatest fears. And though she is no more, they retain that form."

"And then, despite my orders, the then Prime Director Tyrian Sturm harvested and collected Shades to better understand them. He learned much, and then through misguided ideal, he decided that he alone could keep this world safe using the manifest of fear, and sought to control the Shades with one single creature he theorized capable of controlling the mindless shadows without fail. He instigated more, he gave them reason to gather into this world."

Sturm then interjected, interrupting with at first a shout, but he quickly calmed down, speaking in a gruff narrative, "And you had it destroyed. Because you were afraid of what I could do with that power. You were afraid of the lives I could protect by shutting down the gates and keeping them locked by darkness, so that we, as Guardians, could protect the world not from what lay beyond, but the ills of its own people. Look now, Silver. Outside! A Shadeling was born, and as it stands, it is capable of organizing an army under its will--and it has yet years with which to grow. Two years ago, you only delayed the inevitable."

Eilert was unable to get a grasp on Sturm's weapon, but continued on despite that. It appeared that Sturm wasn't going to be that submissive. He had no choice but to hope that his reflexes would be good enough to activate his glyph before Sturm fired, if he indeed tried to.

The mere thought made his stomach turn.

As the two argued, Eilert struggled to keep up with what was being said, the mass of information being casually tossed back and forth. Gold was responsible for creating the shades? Sturm was researching them even before leaving the organization? And...what made him most uneasy, for reasons he couldn't identify, was the insinuation that Sturm's research was destroyed on Silver's orders.

It was a lot to take in, but they were arguing about personal things, not about what he felt he needed to know most.

"What is it that threatens this world so imminently that it needs immediate change?" he asked, unable to keep the frustration from his voice. As the guardian of the gates Sturm theorized he could close, Eilert knew best that real threats from them were few and far between. What he encountered most were stray demons who wandered through, those with no goal in mind other than to sate their need for destruction. Very rarely an agent with an actual mission attempted to get out, as was the case with Jezebel. In all his time watching him, he'd never had a sizable force of any kind attempt to get through, thus why the job only warranted one relatively weak operative.

While there were certainly threats that were around, such as the plague of shade attacks (which Eilert wondered if Sturm had anything to do with), rarely were they a global threat.

"You would both change the world, but what would you change? How would you change it?"

But what he was really asking, the answer he truly hoped to receive, was thus: What is it that makes you despise and fear eachother so much?

"Mankind," replied Silver.

Silver stood up straight, stepping down from the small set of stairs that lead to the tall double doors. These, two, were absent from when Selena had the area decorated and arranged; this room was once a great library, and a modest set of doors lead into her bedroom. Silver must have somehow replaced those with the towering double doors, just like he made alterations to the entire area--an area which had never before been decrepit or weak . . . or requiring any sort of sheet metal to cover it up.

"Mankind, whose hope was perverted long before he borne the darkness of his fears into this world. The Lumen! The second half of nothing--the second half of the End. It was mankind that perverted the light of Gaia's will and built upon the sinful hopes of gods before them; hopes for wealth, hopes for sedition, hopes for war, hopes for death, hopes for sex. A murderer prays for the target of his loathsome wishes to cross his path, and when coincidence has the target pass by, he strikes with wild abandon. War lines the pockets of the wealthy for many to remain destitute. Hope and faith destroy this race with the same efficiency of fear."



"It was through man's wishes that "hope" and "faith" became perverse, and with the advent of Shades, the Lumen were born. They're horrendous creatures born from the lust and greed of mankind, creatures who exist solely for the purpose of continuing the degradation of man with the temptations of want and desire. They're creatures heralded and cultivated by Teron himself; a foreign influence--and influence you, Tyrian, could never have policed with something so simple as shades. But the Angel of Temptation was the same as Sturm and "Gold," an inevitability. He heralded their conception, and yet it is not he who can be blamed, but Man."

"Man, who allowed him that opportunity. Were it not Temptation that heralded the monstrosities of desire, it would have been another. Mankind, flawed as it is, is a species with the peak Will; the collective unconscious of Man could birth a new God if each living being saw fit. Gaia seeks to repair this--He seeks the retribution of man."

Icsorue wasn't understanding any of this. Talks of shades, talks of lumen, origin stories, and accusations--this slew of information was being passed around, and the only thing she recognized were names. Talks of actions or activities, events such as the First Midnight, Sturm's experiments, Teron's cultivation of lumen, Gaia, all of those sorts . . . they went over her head.

"Wot the . . . hell?" she whispered under her breath.

". . . Gaia," Sturm growled, "That's been your goal since the very beginning, hasn't it, Silver? Not the control of this organization, not the control of the world--you've been serving Gaia this entire time, haven't you?!"

Eilert's uneasiness grew steadily as Silver talked. It was, without a doubt, the most he'd ever heard him say. Even though he knew intellectually that most of the myths were actually fact (or had heavy basis in fact), there was still something disconcerting about hearing someone rant about them as if they were intertwined with them.

And then there was the conclusion, something that he scarcely believed. Something that he didn't want to believe, so he was forced to ask Silver to clarify, so that he was beyond a shadow of a doubt what the man meant.

"The retribution of mankind...that mankind is what you would change about this world...are you saying you seek to eliminate humanity?"

Until now, he'd found it difficult to look at Silver directly--even if he hadn't technically disobeyed orders, he had done something that he knew would be against his wishes. But now he raised his gaze to meet his hooded superior's head on.

"W-wait--wait! Eliminate humanity? B-but . . . but we're guardians! We're not 'ere to hurt anyone--we're 'ere to protect, roight? Silver? Eilert? Dr. Tyr . . .? We're . . . we're here to protect, roight?"

She was uneasy, and her question was remarkably shaky. She doubted her own words, now, and was afraid of the answer she was going to receive. What if that had been the purpose of the enigmas all along? To further the destruction of mankind--she'd have lost the will to continue existing, be that so; with everything she did, Icsorue hoped that she was making someone else's life better than her own. If she could do that, then all was well in her world. But what if she wasn't doing that? What if she was making life worse than others? That fear gripped her heart, and she felt suddenly remorseful.



"Eliminate humanity . . ." Silver repeated, "If that is what you wish to name it. The pain is temporary. The repair is permanent."

Icsorue's face became white as a ghost's. "Ya . . . ya can't be serious!"

Sturm, however, had his gun drawn and aimed at Silver. He didn't pull the trigger, but was ready at any time. He was waiting, now--waiting for Silver to try something, waiting for him to say the right thing to give him an excuse to finish the man once and for all. There was more at stake than Silver ruining the world, which Sturm had apparently first presumed; if Silver was after humanity--or the world--as a whole, then he was willing to take the risk of Eilert taking his head off. At the very least, he'd put the threat down . . .

"Gaia will rebuild this world as a Utopia. Every life lost shall be returned, with Him as our one, true God," Silver announced with his arms held high, eyes to the ceiling, "But for this miracle, all life must regrettably perish. Today, we will begin with he who wishes to stop our retribution."



"Eilert Draugr."

Silver's arms dropped down. From beneath the cowl of his hood, smoke began to set; it puffed out of his sleeves, out from the bottom of his robe--every opening available, and like a wave, began to fill the room at a rapid pace. It brought forth a terrible feeling: uneasiness, shakiness, sickness--a headache and a light-headed feeling, high but truly lacking endorphins. It filled the room quickly, settling to the circular floor of the atrium and setting; not leaving a single clear spot on the floor, and moving along with every motion--every wind, every breath.

"Elimate Tyrian Sturm."

With that, the paper in Eilert's hand began to flicker: the red upon the paper was glowing, becoming warm, but not hot. And though it seemed as if he had experienced this before, Eilert Draugr did not become light headed; he received no headache, his vision did not cloud, and he'd not be so receptive of an "order." Free will.

Icsorue quickly grabbed Eilert by the arm. Somehow, she understood some of what was going on--this didn't feel right, all this mist and smoke; she was feeling light-headed and weak. And though she was receiving no words from Silver, something in her gut told her that it was dangerous--that it wasn't like Eilert had a choice but to obey.

As such, the woman was pleading beside of him: ". . . n-no! No way! oI'm not hearing this! This . . . this isn't . . . Eilert--Eilert! Eilert, please . . . please don't . . ."

"I understand." His voice was cold with contained emotions as he lowered his gaze to the floor. It only took a reflexive thought, and the orange glyph on Sturm's neck began to glow--

--and then broke apart, small orange particles of unused mana drifting in the air around him for a moment before being reabsorbed into the mana of the room.

For he realized that Sturm intended for him to pick up the paper all along, but for fear of being distrusted he could not hand it to him. He could only allow things to progress and let him see for himself.

He had known all along that Silver was capable of this...and furthermore, knew that he would be the target, the one needing protection. Which could only mean one thing.

This is not the first time he's done this. He's tried--and succeeded--using this on me before.

"I understand what I need to do." With one hand, he clutched tightly the piece of paper that he knew was protecting him, afraid of what might happen if he let it go.

With the other, he withdrew an object from his pocket--his communicator. The one he made sure remained transmitting ever since he followed Sturm into the temple. The fate of the world, he knew, was something too great for him to decide. So he made sure it would not be just his decision to make.

"In case you could not hear clearly, I will repeat what was said: Silver seeks to end humanity. That includes all of you, I...and even him. You now have a decision to make. Do you continuing following this man, knowing where he would lead you? I will not claim to know what you should do from here, however...things like for the sake of this world are meaningless to me. I base my decision not on the presumption that I know what should be done with this world, only on the knowledge that if he has his way, all that I know personally will disappear."

The communicators worked in such a way that space made no difference--those outside the temple, still being held by shades, as well as those who were evacuated to Greoul would hear what was happening.

He replaced the communicator into his pocket. When he looked up, something about him changed. It was hard to place...it was not just his eyes, his posture, or any individual shift in demeanor. Rather, it was the entire way he held himself; for the first time in many, many years he was entirely sure of a decision he was making for himself.

"Your mistake, Silver, was assuming that just because you do not care what happens to me...just because I didn't care what happened to me...doesn't mean that no one else does." He glanced back at Sturm and Icsorue.

I cannot yet call them friends...but...I would like to soon.

"Now stand down."

He did not need to say what would happen if he didn't--Sturm was ready to fire, and no longer had the threat on his life to hold him back. And it was clear that if it came down to it now, Eilert was prepared to fight him as well.

"I am your puppet no longer."

I understand, he said.

Icsorue panicked. She was afraid for the worst, afraid that somehow, Silver got him to acknowledge the order, or that Eilert was doing Silver's bidding. She didn't want to see any of them dead--Sturm, Eilert, or Silver, but especially Sturm. She especially did not wish to see him fall. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him, hoping to all that was holy that it was all a ruse, that Eilert was going to suddenly get willpower back, or something of the sort, and leave Tyrian Sturm be--unharmed, alive.

"Ei-Eilert, n-no . . ." Icsorue whimpered pleadingly.

Then, the glyph upon Sturm's neck began to glow . . .

"No!!" she screamed as she tightened her grip upon his arm.



With her eyes shut tightly and her forehead resting against Eilert's arm, Icsorue was ready to cry again. She was scared to death, now, that if she opened her eyes, she'd find that Eilert had executed Sturm. She was still there, holding onto the arm which gripped the paper Sturm had given to Eilert, and it wasn't until she heard Eilert speaking to someone disembodied--someones, rather, that she opened her eyes again.

Sturm was still alive.

In fact, he didn't appear surprised to be alive at all. The entire time, he hadn't paid even a glance to Eilert. Like Silver had placed his bets on Eilert following orders and contributing to the plan, Sturm had placed his bets on the paper he had given Eilert fulfilling its use and keeping him alive. It seemed he was still going to have his shot at Silver, yet.

"Ya . . . ya didn't kill him . . . ya really didn't," Icsorue gasped in relief, "Oh God--thank you, thank you . . ."

". . . that's . . . impossible," Silver remarked, shock evident in his voice for the first time, "The orange enigma was to have the second weakest of wills . . ."

Not a twitch--even with the paper, he must have considered that I might agree with Silver, but he didn't flinch in the slightest. Tyrian Sturm must either have unrivaled nerves or unrivaled trust.

"I apologize for worrying you," he told Icsorue softly, but it seemed the ambiguity was worth it--Silver seemed genuinely shocked that he hadn't obeyed him.

He didn't hear any replies from his communicator, but that wasn't surprising--the enigmas outside were still being restrained, and those taken to Greoul were likely in no condition to do much more than listen--if they were even conscious to hear.

"The Orange Enigma is indeed a fool. He isolated himself from a world he could no longer bear to be a part of, too cowardly to end his own life but unwilling to truly live."

With a slow deliberation, he began to ascend the steps to Silver. As he did, he reached up and unfastened his cloak, casually tossing it to the side and letting it flutter to the ground in a flurry of black and orange.

"Eilert Draugr, however, is not so weak."

"It's . . . it's okay--just . . . just don't do that again. oI swear, oI'll clobber ya good if ya do!" Icsorue lamented, though through her threats, her voice held the obvious tone of relief.

Sturm approached alongside Eilert. He was quiet, his eyes heavy, but still focused adamantly upon Silver--his enemy. Their enemy. It had come late, but everything seemed to have fallen into place. It took a full year of work, half of which came to no fruition, and another half which demanded he go six months without even a minute of sleep. He never once took his aim off of the man, but didn't take this opportunity to shoot him dead. Not yet. There was still something he needed, here. Sturm was determined to kill Silver, and if he could have his way, he'd have done it now, but something was off.

"I see. It appears as if you have become a monster just like Tyrian Sturm," Silver narrated, before throwing his hand out before him, "I only wished to have Tyrian killed, but now I have no choice. Icsorue!"



"Icsorue, step aside. Icsorue!"

It was Sturm's yelling that snapped her back into consciousness. Icsorue glanced from Eilert to Sturm, at first not realizing the difference, figuring she had only closed her eyes for a moment and reopened them--but then, she started to realize that she was somewhere else. She wasn't standing beside of Eilert; she was in front of him. Directly in front of he and Sturm, directly in the line of fire if Sturm were to pull the trigger of his gun. Eilert, too, was different: he was on the floor, likely pulling himself back up. How had she gotten there? What happened between the moment she shut her eyes and the time she opened them back up. Why was she in front of them, her arms out, Silver in the distance behind her--

Just a moment earlier, Icsorue had rushed forward with no indication of difference in personality or attitude; she had simply progressed forward nonchalantly and opened up her arms, not allowing Sturm to fire his weapon without hitting Icsorue in the process, simultaneously shoving Eilert away, leaving him no opportunity to approach Silver.



"Wot is . . . wot just happened?" asked the woman, her voice shaky, confused--afraid.

Eilert blinked, suddenly finding his view not taken up by Silver but by the ceiling. His heart skipped a beat, fearing for a moment that he fell under his control. But that did not seem to be the case...the piece of paper he was clutching was still warm.

He pulled himself to his feet, taking stock of the situation. Sturm was where he had been, but Icsorue now stood in front of him, blocking their way to Silver.

Understanding dawned on him...the way she acted, as though she didn't remember what she did...he didn't know what power of hers allowed her to move that fast, but he knew it wasn't by her own will. The realization sickened him.

The Orange Enigma was to have the second weakest of wills...

But then, who else could be manipulated to that extent?

A girl who never had a chance at a normal life. One whose mentor and father figure she was told betrayed her...

While many of the emotions resurfacing in Eilert were complex and in his current state incomprehensible to him, the one he felt now was as simple as they came: anger.

His tactical and emotional senses immediately reached the same conclusion, and he approached Icsorue again. "Please...I do not wish to harm you...stand aside," he pleaded, lightly grabbing her arm as though begging her.

Whether she pushed him away, fought him, or even blasted him with her abilities, he was determined that his motion accomplish one thing: slipping the piece of paper that was protecting him into her hands.

Because she was much more powerful than him. Because he at least vaguely knew what he was dealing with now. And because he did not wish to cause that little girl any more pain than she already experienced.

In this, he had an advantage--Silver was under the impression he simply mustered the will to resist, unaware that it something he was holding that was preventing him from succumbing to his influence.

Eilert placing the paper within Icsorue's hand when he pleaded with her to move was altogether confusing. She didn't know what was going on, she didn't know why she was in front of them, she didn't know why Eilert had to pull himself from the ground, or why Sturm and Eilert had to beg her to move. Silver was behind her, and that in itself had her confused.

As the paper was passed from Eilert to Icsorue, Eilert would find red glow stained upon his hand. He had been gripping the paper tight for some time, refusing to let go for anything, and now that he was without it, it would even seem . . . painful. The feeling cuts on his skin, though he retained no injury. The glow remained, however, and showed absolutely no sign of going away. Because of this, he did not fall into a light-headed state; the glyph's influence on him over Silver's "power" must have been retained through some way. There was a similar glow upon Sturm, too; it was dull, though, and pulsated from his left wrist, which he had covered with a bandage of sorts.

"That is the source, then," Silver suddenly announced, distaste and disgust in his voice, as if he were choking back vomit and speaking loud and clear--letting all that could hear know.



The paper was snatched from Icsorue's hand as soon as Eilert let go. Silver held it up before his face, and in defiance, Icsorue quickly turned to face him. Her hand, however, lacked the crimson glow.

"Wot the bloody hell do ya think you're doing?!" Icsorue shouted up at him; now that she was this close, she was able to confront him herself. She never wanted the constants in her life to go away, and she still had no intentions of killing Silver, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to beat him into next Tuesday. "Ya talk about destroying humanity and all that . . . wot koind of nerve do ya think ya have, 'huh?!"

"Icsorue--Icsorue!!" Sturm shouted to get her attention, "Just move--get away from him!"

"No! oI'll bloody well beat him 'til he cries roight now!" Icsorue replied stubbornly as she stomped up the next step.

"About face," was all Silver said whilst he examined the paper.

Pain. Icsorue let out a pained cry: "N-nhh . . . agh!"

And she was turned around, but not comfortably so. Her mind was telling herself to keep standing the way she was, but her body was doing differently. It felt like her bones were breaking as she tried to command her legs to move, but it was to no avail. She could only stand where she was, facing Eilert and Sturm, her knees shaking as she tried to move them, back hunched forward, heavy as she tried to lift it, and her arms limp before her. She had gradual movement--slow, progressive motions, such as movement of her spine and her arms, but she couldn't do much, and the pain never left.

"This glyph is pointless anymore," Silver clasped it in both hands, crumpling it tight and throwing it to the side, "But it is interesting, nonetheless. Tyrian tattooed it upon his wrist as a means of avoiding my influence. I presume that one of you found a way to activate the Glyph of Will without mutilating yourself . . ."

"Icsorue..."

In wrenching the paper with protective glyph away, Silver seemed to rid them of any chance of preventing her from falling under his control. It was clear that she couldn't resist--though her situation was quite different than his own had been. She seemed conscious of what she was doing still. Was it Sturm's influence? Or was she stronger willed than he after all?

Eilert stared at the mark that remained on his hand even after he handed the paper off--it seemed, somehow, its protection remained with him. What caused that? What was it he was dealing with?

Ironically it was Silver who gave him the last piece of the puzzle. As he recited the words "Glyph of Will," Eilert's eyes widened. Yes...that was why it remained with him so readily.

A small, almost imperceptible smile spread across his lips. If it had been anything else the situation would have been repairable. But while much about Eilert Draugr still remained a mystery (even to himself), there was one fact that could not be disputed:

In all the world, there was none as knowledgeable or skilled with glyphs as he was.

Using glyphs took two things--it was not just knowing the pattern that was necessary, but one also needed to understand what it meant. For Eilert, hearing the name of the glyph allowed him to immediately see the pattern of it, what the sections meant.

Even then, he shouldn't have been able to do what he needed to...it took a great deal of practice with a glyph before he could imprint it with his palms. But whether by accident, plan, or fate, the pattern was already on his hand.

"Icsorue...remain calm. Keep your head," he said quietly, as he once more reached, this time to take her hand in his briefly. And when he pulled away, the same mark that was on he and Sturm would now be on her--except the glow of hers was orange.

"Silver, stop this!" demanded Sturm.

But Silver knew what he could and couldn't get away with in this situation. "Or you will do what, Tyrian? Shoot me?"



Icsorue bordered on hysterical, though. She was ready to tear into someone, Silver namely, but was equally scared to near death. "Just . . . wot the hell is going on?! Wot the hell are you doing to me?!"

Sturm was in a bind. He couldn't shoot through Icsorue to get to Silver--he just couldn't. That simply wasn't an option at this very moment. Their only hope was that one of them could come up with something on the fly, like Eilert, who started towards Icsorue again, once again reaching for her hand. She was ready to take it, her fingers trembling, her arm shaking. She was scared. She was truly afraid--and not just for her own life, but for others. Silver caught eye of it, though--Eilert reaching for her--

"Eliminate him," commanded Silver, just as Eilert was ready to touch Icsorue's hand.

And with no defense or hint of refusal, Icsorue's hand twitched just before Eilert reached it. Rather than taking her hand, Eilert would instead take a thousand volts of electricity directly into his body--aimed to run through his hand, across his arm, and expel static at the center of his chest, likely to burn all across his skin that it touched and either melt or burn away the clothing it came in contact with. The voltage wasn't powerful enough to kill Eilert, nor was it enough to mortally wound him--but paralyze him, it could do. Briefly. The pulse of static electricity would be enough to throw him away, burn the center of his chest, and leave him motionless for a moment.

Icsorue blinked once. "Ei--"



It felt like she'd swallowed her tongue.

"EILER~T!!" she screamed, her voice filled with remorse--immediate guilt, as she regrettably remained conscious throughout the entire event.

Even if Eilert wasn't tossed away, the entire event would serve to shock Sturm to know end--a perfect example of what Silver could do with power over another person, even when that other person was fully conscious. He quickly turned to Eilert, downed or not.

"Draugr! Draugr--! Are you all right . . .?!" It was quite possibly one of the very few times that Sturm ever sounded truly concerned.

One moment victory had seemed assured; all he needed to do was lay a single hand on Icsorue and he could break Silver's hold on her. And then...then he was flung backwards as electricity ran up his arm, searing flesh and melting clothing.

He let out a pained cry as he fell, landing hard on his back, disappearing from the others view as he entered the smoke that covered the floor of the room. He never heard Icsorue's panicked cry, and was only vaguely aware that Sturm was speaking--he could not even make out what was being said.

His body wanted nothing more than to just lay still--he may have healed his injuries earlier, but he'd been in near-constant motion for around ten hours, making preparations and then attempting to hold off the shades. The blast alone would normally have been enough to make him let go of his hold on consciousness, but this time something prevented him from giving in. Whether he'd genuinely regained some of his spirit or it was all the Glyph of Will, he couldn't say.

He blinked rapidly as his senses returned to him. He could only make out hazy figures through the veil of smoke, but it didn't take much effort to tell who was who. Sturm was still being blocked by Icsorue from reaching Silver--he wondered if, even for the world's sake, he could shoot the girl he'd practically raised. It didn't matter; Eilert was determined to ensure he didn't need to make that choice.

It was a bad situation, though. Even if they were outside, with all his glyphs placed, he'd be hard pressed to match the Pink Enigma's power. In here he would stand no chance of winning in a straight fight.

But he had two advantages: one was that for her to do anything, Silver needed to give a verbal command. The other was that they probably thought he was either dead or at least no longer a threat.

Several moments would pass with no response from the Orange Enigma, as he prepared his next move. He'd have to make it his last move--he had little doubt that if he failed this time, Silver would ensure that he was dead with his own eyes.

Three things happened in rapid succession.

With no warning, something black flew out of the smoke towards Icsorue, balled up but expanding as it went. Only the orange markings on it gave it away as Eilert's cloak, which he'd recently discarded. Whether or not she took action to deflect it or prevent it from hitting her, as it drew within her reach more orange markings would appear, these ones glowing with the telltale sign of a glyph.

And then it erupted in a harmless flurry of black and orange cloth. It was not an attack, but rather intended to startle and blind her and Silver.

As well as distract them from the second action: a single rock thrown out of the smoke, aimed to sail past Icsorue and clatter at Silver's feet. A moment after it landed it too would glow orange and erupt, this time in a much more dangerous fashion.

The final act was Eilert himself, another glyph glowing on him as he rose from the smoke with inhuman speed: the Glyph of Celerity. Simultaneous with the eruption of the rock at Silver's feet, he reached Icsorue through the cloud of floating cloth, his still smoking arm outstretched to her.

It didn't matter if the plan worked perfectly, or Silver caught on part way through. It didn't even matter if Icsorue blasted him with her powers again. All that mattered was that he caused enough confusion so that, even if only for a moment, he could lay a hand on Icsorue and place the Glyph of Will on her, freeing her from Silver's control.

It did not even matter if she killed him...

For a moment, there was nothing from Eilert--no sign that he was alive or dead, and even Sturm's expressions fell, just like each time he was informed that one of the members of his squad perished against the real azure enigma. They were friends, associates, and partners--and Sturm felt the same way about Eilert. Even if they only did so much as share intellectual discussions, Sturm knew that the man had a good head on his shoulders. Trust was there. And, besides: Sturm, an intellectual himself, had so few people to hold such discussions with. Even if it seemed mundane to Eilert . . .



"Oh God, oh God, no . . . no . . . no! No! Eilert!!" Icsorue, on the brink of tears, shouted and cried as she suddenly felt the urge to fall to her knees. She presumed Eilert dead at that moment, "Oh God . . ."

Dead by her hands.

But it wasn't so. Icsorue was almost delighted to catch movement out of the corner of her eyes, and ecstatic to see his coat thrown away--not for the symbolism, but for the fact that he was still alive.

"Deflect."

Her happiness couldn't last long, as gust of wind deflected the coat straight back to its original position, just a moment before it detonated--and it was unlikely that Eilert was going to detonate it on himself. The stone, too, was thrown off course, just moments before Eilert's offensive . . .

"Counter."



Sturm, knowing what was to come, was quick to shout at the orange enigma as a warning: "Eilert, get out of here!!"

But Sturm's sentence was followed by a shout of pain and a grunt of reaction in less than a second. It was almost identical to the force-field earlier that day, when Sturm's forces had a defensive field keeping them from harm, whilst they barraged the Sky Temple was non-lethal force. This time, however, it was static. Pure, unaltered static electricity, thrown out before Icsorue, not even touching the man behind her. The static, upon colliding with Sturm, threw him back the same distance as Eilert, and he landed hard on his back. Almost immediately, the "field" was disbanded for the sake of direct shock: flung out like a shockwave in a single direction, intended to strike both Eilert and Sturm, something which could keep them grounded for more than just a few seconds.

Icsorue gasped for air. She felt the sudden need to cry, just as much as she felt the need to let loose all the static electricity she possibly could to fry Silver out beyond repair. But she couldn't. She tried, and found it impossible. The pink enigma could barely move without being told to, let alone use any one of her powers--and when she was being commanded to use her powers, she was using them with great efficiency. It was the only time in her life that she wished she was a horrible shot.

"Two thousand volts," Silver commanded.

But Icsorue shook her head. She could barely move without his command, but she denied it nonetheless. Two thousand volts of electricity was exceedingly dangerous; it would either kill her friends or leave them lame for some time. Even if they managed to live through it and get back up, they wouldn't be able to do so much as run for days after the fact; their nerves would be constantly flaring, pain would be random through the days, and if they were shocked at the right angle, parts of their brain or spine may have shut down--and that was if they survived. She couldn't do that to them . . .

"No . . ." Icsorue whispered painfully with a quick shake of her head, tears streaming down her cheeks and a lump in her throat; she couldn't speak without hesitating or breaking up.

Silver commanded once again: "Two. Thousand. Volts."

. . . and it was done.

Sturm, downed on his back nearby Eilert, kicked his legs forward, pushed his head back as far he could, and pushed up with his elbows. It was a purely nervous reaction; his entire nervous system felt as if it was going haywire, his heart was beating fast, and had he the opportunity to describe the sensation in his head on paper, he'd have said that it felt like my brain was bleeding. It wasn't more than two seconds of this before he let out a cry of pain--the most miserable, painful shout that Tyrian Sturm had ever let out.

For Eilert, it may very well have been no different. And it lasted. Even if it only lasted for seconds, it may have felt like an eternity.