On Wings
Chapter Four: Wings of Will

Disclaimer: As per usual, I still don't own Escaflowne or its respective characters. Please enjoy this story knowing I make not a single pretty penny from it.

Also thought I'd add something... I noticed that a lot of you guys (the ones that review, anyway) are enjoying the fluff. All I have to say to that is, people, enjoy it while it lasts.

On with the show!

...:...

The power of an Atlantean will was not unknown: it was how they had carved out a nation mightier than any other, given birth to a Golden era, and even gave themselves wings. But there most people had stopped.

The sorcerers had not. Eager to master the laws of their world, and bend them to their own pleasing, they had built a device that would exact power from the very thought, the very desire, of a person. They called it the Atlantis Machine, and they called Tiore their champion. They told him of Aiyeth's impending marriage and how he could forge a destiny he and he alone would control, in which every desire could be granted. And desperate and afraid, Tiore allowed himself to be connected to the Atlantis Machine.

It was a matter of days just to partially unite him with the machine. Tiore was released, as an experiment, on Aiyeth's wedding day. The former guard arrived in time to halt the ceremony, but in a struggle, he was overcome by battle rage, and for a few minutes, chaos reigned as his mere thoughts shattered pillars and tossed men to the side like insects. In the turmoil the husband-to-be was killed along with many Atlanteans, others mortally wounded or seriously injured. Then Tiore was knocked unconscious from behind, and thrown in the dungeon with a heavy dose of sleeping elixir.

Aiyeth was distraught, not only because of what had transpired in the past few days, but because in the aftermath of the wedding, she was plunged into vision after vision of more destruction and death on an even wider scale. Under the cover of the night, she slipped out of the palace and went to the sorcerers herself, and beseeched them to help Tiore and put an end to their experiments. They assured her that every effort was being made to rectify the situation.

Their way of rectifying the situation, however, was to instigate riots over recent political strife, and in the confusion, break Tiore out of prison. Still under the sleeping draught's influence, Tiore stayed unconscious for the next few days. He had no awareness of the violence raging in the streets; no knowledge of the fear now ruling Aiyeth, both for her country and for her love; and absolutely no idea that as he slept, the sorcerers were binding him even more tightly to the Atlantis Machine.

...:...

It was remarkable, Hitomi thought sourly, how the day before, the weather had been perfectly fine, blue skies with the occasional cloud-and now, now that they needed to buy supplies and get out of Gremerton, there was a near-torrential downpour.

At least Dryden had given her a cloak, and wisely sent one with the courier who had arrived around noon. Now two hooded figures moved through the streets, taking little notice of the mud caking around their boots; they shuffled from stall to stall, occasionally stopping to pass coin for goods. Not a word passed between the two that didn't relate to their purchases.

In fact, Hitomi could count all the words Van had said this morning on her fingers. One hand's worth.

It wasn't that he was angry, but she'd seen this mood written on his face before: he was troubled by something, and upset that it was troubling him in the first place. It was the look he'd had after Allen had told him Fanelia had been burned to the ground, and they'd been waiting together onboard the Crusade. His eyes had been just as dark then, and just as hooded.

What on Earth-well, Gaea, she supposed-had she said to him, though? She'd asked him last night about his gloves, and why he always wore them. And since then he'd been brooding like the rainstorm overhead. It wasn't fresh anger that practically radiated from him, though-it had the same musty, poignant feel as an old bloodstain or a broken bone that had healed wrong. It wasn't even entirely anger, or it didn't feel like it.

But whatever it was, it had darkened him in a way she couldn't quite define. Van had always had a vitality, a magnetism that drew people to him-he was, in a word, dynamic. But now it was like the shutters on a lantern had slid shut, almost. When he spoke, his voice was distant; his eyes were shadowed, and focused somewhere beyond the walls of their reality.

One almost felt like shaking him, slapping him, anything to snap him out of it. However, one did not bitch slap the king of Fanelia in his own country, regardless of how much one might be tempted to do so. Moreover, it didn't seem like it would actually help the situation any. Instead, Hitomi settled for irately playing with Dilly's reins as she led the mare through the market's streets.

They had bought all the supplies on the list they'd drawn up the night before, except for one thing... We still need to get a horse, Hitomi said to Van's back. It didn't reply, and neither did he: not even a sign that he'd heard her, not a nod, not a shrug, not a single backwards glance. However, after a few minutes of slogging through the rain, he did come to a halt in front of a horse merchant, so perhaps there was hope for communication yet.

He said something to the merchant, whose eyes sharpened in recognition of someone who wouldn't be fooled by a nag, no matter how well-groomed it had been at the last minute. It was Hitomi's turn to let her attention wander, and she cast her eyes around the marketplace, watching people fight through the mud and the crowds; it seemed the weather had affected everyone's mood, and not for the better.

Mother?

A little boy was looking around frantically, searching the mass of grownups. Mother? Mother?

Hitomi bit her lip.

Mother! He couldn't have been more than four, and yet nobody looked down, just shoving past. Then he slipped and fell into the mud, now thoroughly filthy from head to toe. Sitting up, he started to cry.

Hitomi's face turned cloudy, and she walked over to Van and handed him the reins, saying tersely, Here. I'll be right back. Then she turned on her heel and made her way over to the little boy, dropping to her knees in front of him. He turned big, watery eyes on her, surprised out of his sobs. My name's Hitomi, she told him gently. Did you lose your mother? He nodded silently, trying to scrub at his face with dirty hands. She smiled and used a corner of her cloak to wipe some of the mud off of his face, then pulled the hood of his cloak back up over his head. What's your name?

Erram, he whispered.

She couldn't help smiling. Where'd you last see your mother, Erram?

He pointed. By the blanket woman's store.

There was a weaver's stall a little ways down that street he's pointing to, he's probably talking about that. Well, Erram, if I pick you up, you can look for your mother better. Is that all right? He nodded again, and she carefully lifted him onto her shoulders. You can hold onto my hood, okay? We'll go to the blanket woman's store. Erram didn't say anything, but small hands clenched the fabric of her hood tightly, and she kept a firm hold on his ankles. Turning around, she found Van and the merchant watching her; the merchant was amused, but there was something in Van's eyes that made her swallow nervously. I'm taking him to look for his mother, she said loudly enough for them to hear. I'll be back in a few minutes.

Unbeknownst to Hitomi, Van's eyes followed her until she'd been swallowed by the crowd.

When Hitomi returned, Van was waiting with reins in each hand, and passed those of the new mare over to her. The mare followed obediently as they wormed their way out of the marketplace and through the city, headed for the road. After another stretch of silence, surprisingly, Van spoke. Did you find his mother?

Yes. He thought he saw a smile. She wasn't too far away. Then she held her hand in front of her, frowning thoughtfully, and pushed back her hood. It's stopped raining.

Yeah. Van let his hood fall back as he looked up at the clouds, then glanced at Hitomi, morose thoughts starting to fall into darkness.

It rained intermittently throughout the day, coming and going like the memories that pushed at the edges of his thoughts. Van knew he was being cold to Hitomi, and he would have said something, but he had the feeling any conversation now would either devolve into an argument or die just as quickly as it had started. Neither of them seemed to be feeling quite the same Halcyon bliss as that which, for the past few days, had numbed them to the grim future ahead.

We should stop soon.

Hitomi's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, and he straightened, looking over at her. What?

We should stop soon, she repeated. It's getting dark. And if we're sore and exhausted from riding all day long, if we come across any Basramu soldiers, the most we can do is fall on them.

There isn't a town for another couple hours. Now he turned his eyes back to the road.

I'm fine with camping.

He nodded, and returned to his thoughts.

Hitomi chewed on a strip of dried fruit thoughtfully, studying the plants on the ground before her. The most predominant seemed like clover, but with spade-shaped leaves and darker markings. Yet another reminder that she wasn't on Earth.

At least her mare seemed to enjoy it, which was why Hitomi had settled on the name Clover. She liked to think she had the good taste not to name her horse after an old enemy, but Van's dislike of Dilandau was more than understandable. After all, the semi-guy had razed his country to the ground, so as far as Hitomi was concerned, Van was more than entitled to declare a Fanelian Dilandau Hate Day if so he chose.

What he was not entitled to do, however, was give her the silent treatment. Yes, she understood that she actually had very little to do with it, and that he wasn't angry with her. However, practically twenty-four straight hours of conversational minimalism would try anyone's patience.

It didn't help that the ground was still damp. They'd had the foresight to prepare for it, but it was still uncomfortable. At least the fire was helping dry their clothes-they'd bought a few logs and kept them dry, and once they'd stopped for camp, Van had started the fire while Hitomi gathered a few more logs put them to dry under a waterproof cloth. They had each managed to dig up some sort of dinner; Hitomi had just finished the last of hers at the same time as she'd unloaded and taken care of the last of Clover's packs. Turning, she found Van's eyes on her from across the fire, and froze when they didn't leave.

Van had been vacillating since she'd first asked; and now, as warm light played over the curves of her surprised face, he knew the answer.

I'm... sorry, Hitomi, he said, finally averting his eyes.

For...? she prompted.

Today, he said shortly, and it was enough. It's not-not you-

Now she looked at the ground, still standing by her mare. I know.

There was a long, pregnant pause. Should he tell her? It would definitely be crossing a line-but damn it all, he was sick of lines. When... my brother disappeared, my mother was... I don't know. Something in her broke. She'd sit by the window and wait for him to come back, and not move for days, until someone came and told us they'd found his arm, and his sword, and that was it. Then she stayed in the family graveyard for days.

Hitomi sucked in a breath, and walked over to sit by his side.

A few weeks later, I saw her leave the castle, and I followed.

In the dancing flames, Hitomi saw a little boy peering around a corner after a stately woman. Varie's eyes were as distant as Van's had been before, and she seemed to notice little as she loosed her jacket and let her wings spring free. The young Van's eyes widened, and he clenched his fists, wincing as wings pushed out of his back as well. Varie didn't notice him beneath her as she soared upwards.

She flew to the mountains where Folken was last seen.

Varie was still airborne as she glided high over a forest, but the five-year-old Van was struggling, unseen, wings shuddering dangerously.

I-my wings gave out.

She saw him shriek a single word as he fell, over and over again: Mother! But Varie flew on.

My hands got pretty ripped up from trying to catch onto-anything, and when I hit the ground, there were rocks...

Small white wings disintegrated around Van's form, lying on the ground, unconscious. His hands were torn almost beyond recognition, blood dying snowy feathers crimson. Then the fire returned to a normal fire in her sight, the visions gone.

Balgus found me a day or so later. He said he'd followed the feathers, and I guess he saw it coming all along. Mother hadn't been the same since Father died. He glanced down at his gloved hand. She never came back. It took a while for my hands to heal all the way, and people kept asking about them until I just started wearing gloves all the time. There was a pause. That's why.

Hitomi turned the story, the visions, over in her mind, processing everything as painstakingly as possible, unaware Van was watching. Why didn't she say anything? Did she think it was stupid, that something like a scar could bring about memories so painful he had to hide them from himself? Did she think he was a baby, for letting something like this get to him?

Hitomi could not think of a single thing to say. Not a word. Everything sounded too-trite, too cliched. Sorry, Van, that sucks? You aren't alone? It's over now? Beauty is only skin deep? There were no words for a moment like this.

Actions speak louder than words.

Van had come to the conclusion that Hitomi thought he was a moron when, to his astonishment, he felt his hand being picked up in hers. Slender fingers started to tug at the glove, and he felt every muscle tense up. She must have noticed, for she stopped and asked, not looking at him, May I?

He could only nod wordlessly.

The glove came off with ease, and for the first time in years, someone besides himself was looking at his hand.

Hitomi studied it carefully, looking at the back first. The lines there were thin, a spiderweb of lighter flesh, jagged like lightning. Along the muscle between his thumb and forefinger, the skin was roughened, probably from long hours spent sparring. She slowly turned over his hand. The scars here were much worse; uneven lines crisscrossed over his palm, some raised, some cut deeply into flesh, some white, some dark. Hitomi traced the paths of a few with a finger, deep in thought. Finally, she asked, Does it still hurt?

Looking at her, Van saw the girl who would drop everything to help a little boy find his way home; the girl who had thought his wings were beautiful; the girl who didn't flinch at his scars, not because they weren't ugly, but because she cared more about how he'd gotten them. And he knew that, whether she was on the Mystic Moon or here on Gaea, even if she did forget him and everything that had happened, even if he never saw her again-no matter what, Hitomi would never truly leave him.

Not anymore, he answered simply.

Something in his voice made Hitomi look up, and once again, she found his eyes on her. Both of them knew he wasn't talking about the scars on his hands.

There-in his eyes-she'd seen it that strong once before, when she had last left Gaea, and hints and glimmers of it since then-what was it, though, and why was she afraid?

You know exactly why, her sensible voice reminded her. Because you could get very, very badly hurt if anything happens between you two, and what you're seeing in him now isn't helping maintain the distance.

But somehow, even with the quickening of her heartbeat, the rush of blood in her ears, she couldn't make herself look away. Van had the kind of eyes a girl could get drunk off of, and she'd been hooked.

Breathing had become something of a necessary evil for the king of Fanelia, given that he couldn't think of anything, or look at anything, but the one girl he couldn't have. Oh, but did he want to-others bespoke of Hitomi's ability to calm anyone's heart; funny, then, how his was pounding. All he had to do was lean forward and pray, but-

But then both of them would be in too deep.

When he could have happily drowned in her eyes, though, it didn't seem like such a bad way to go.

Then a horse's shrill cry split through the air, followed by another. Both Dilly and Clover pawed at the ground anxiously, and the rustling of bushes told them that some small animal had been approaching, but was well on its way out now.

Unfortunately, the damage was done: Hitomi had jumped at least three feet in the air, and Van had done so as well. Luckily for him, he'd been trained to the point where it was reflex to pull his legs under him, making it appear as if he had actually intended to jump to his feet. Both of them hastily went over to the horses, hoping desperately the other wouldn't see their blush, and thinking that the other was actually quite cute when his or her face flushed like that.

Hitomi.

If Hitomi hadn't been in a dream, she would have scowled; sadly, it was somewhat difficult to scowl when one's subconscious didn't really have a face. Alysen's voice hadn't interrupted her sleep for a few days now, and she'd enjoyed the break. What is it now?

It's about the pendant. You need to take it back to Earth as soon as possible.

What?

It was made to amplify a person's powers and awake any dormant ones, among other things, but Gaea doesn't exactly need that. That's part of why your wishes were coming true here, and your dowsing was so much easier.

I... guess that makes sense, she said hesitatingly.

It does. But it's too dangerous on Gaea, and Earth needs it, so get it back soon.

But I gave it to Van.

And that's cute, but I don't care. Wake up and find that charm of yours, the dragon wants to talk to you.

It almost felt as if her eyes were being forced to crack open, and she sat up with a grumble, wishing the sky were a bit lighter. Then her mind processed Alysen's last words, and scrambling over to the packs, she recklessly dug through them, searching for the charm. If the dragon wanted to talk to her, it had to be about her family-

There! The heavily embroidered bag gave a thin jingle as she yanked it out and immediately felt the warmth of power crackle beneath her fingers.

You ought to keep this nearer. The dragon's voice was stern in her mind, and she cringed.

I am sorry, she said sincerely. I have been-

Save your excuses, for they do not interest me. There have been two earthquakes since you left.

Two? Hitomi gasped. But-

Your family is fine, the dragon informed her haughtily. I have shielded any nearby who share your blood. Your house still stands, but if you wish to keep the rest of your town intact, you will return with the pendant quickly.

What does the pendant have to do with anything? she asked, confused and irritated. There was a snort, and then the snap of magic faded.

Hitomi let out a strangled yell and threw the fertility charm at the nearest tree. Why won't they tell me anything?

Van had sat up the minute he heard someone going through the packs, then watched as Hitomi stared at the strange little bag for a minute or two and, oddly, proceeded to hurl it into a tree, looking infuriated. From her general performance, he gathered she'd received some manner of divine message that had been a little too cryptic for her tastes. Perhaps they're worried you won't take the news well, he suggested.

Hitomi jumped, then scowled fiercely at him. Of course I'd take it well, she snapped. They just like being-mysterious, and-and-enigmatic, and all that, because I hate it. Getting to her feet, she brusquely slapped any dirt off of her clothes and, grumbling, retrieved the small bag from the base of the tree.

What's that? he asked, trying to change the subject.

Hitomi looked at the bag and blanched, then blushed an alarmingly bright hue of red. N-nothing-nothing important, she muttered, shoving it into a pocket. It's a charm... from a shrine to a dragon who's watching over my family while I'm gone, so it can tell me if anything happens.

A dragon? Van hadn't recalled her saying anything about dragons on the Mystic Moon.

She shrugged. Or at least its spirit. I never asked where it came from, she added, reading his look correctly. There are a lot of dragons in Earth folklore, so it's not necessarily Gaean.

I see. If a dragon's spirit was protecting Hitomi's family, that explained why she'd suddenly been willing to come back. Have the earthquakes stopped?

No, Hitomi said distantly. They're getting worse. She stared at the sky, and seemed almost to shrink, or fade, a little. He could barely hear her whisper, I hope they're all right.

And Van was reminded that, like it or not, Hitomi had a family, and friends, and another life on the Mystic Moon, one that he had no part of. It was the life she belonged to, and the sooner they solved this mess with Basram, the sooner she would be back home. In the meantime, all he could do was be there for her, and hopefully end this war before it started.

I promised you we'd finish this as quickly as possible, and I don't intend to break my word, he said quietly.

I'm-I'm not worried about how long-

You have every right to be, and hiding it does no good.

Hitomi bit her lip. Van was right; she'd been burying her fear for her family in other thoughts since she'd first arrived. However, long ago she'd half-demanded, half-pleaded with Van to stop depending on her, and though he'd never said as much in turn, she knew better than to start. They both knew she would be leaving indefinitely after this; she wanted to do so with a minimum of collateral damage. Relying on Van for strength she could drag out of herself would only make it harder to eventually stand on her own.

So Hitomi swallowed and ducked her head. I'm fine, she said in a voice that almost didn't shake.

Dryden glanced up wearily as the study's door swung open, keeping one eye on the stacks of parchment piled on the desk. While he couldn't sign for Van, he'd made steps towards introducing something like organization to the room, and the last thing he needed was for his precious work to be blown apart in a draft.

Merle slid inside, letting out a low whistle. This place looks totally different.

Dryden grinned wryly. No wonder his Majesty hasn't been getting enough sleep. It must have taken him half a day just to locate the papers he needed. What Van needed was a secretary, or a librarian; someone to do what he was doing now. The papers had been sorted by issue, and right now he was translating the legal jargon into plain speech and attaching a layman's-terms summary to every document. It was at least something to do while they awaited news. But I don't think you're here to admire my housekeeping.

No. Merle examined her claws, then sat abruptly in the other chair.

Dryden set paperweights on his piles, partially to save them from any accidental swipes, and partially so he could actually see the catgirl over them. Spit it out, kiddo.

Merle's hard blue eyes met his, and she asked bluntly, Can Van and Hitomi get married?

Dryden winced and slumped back in his chair, then polished his glasses on his shirt, trying to stall until he could think of a suitably sugarcoated answer. There's a lot to consider when it comes to Van and matrimony, he said vaguely. Why?

You know why. It was sometimes hard to remember that Merle was fifteen now, and much more difficult to fool. Sure, you haven't been here that much, but you've seen how he looks at the Mystic Moon. And I don't think Hitomi came back for him out of fiery hatred.

No, no she didn't. How could he break this to Merle? Fanelia's got political clout, especially after Zaibach fell apart. However, it's still unstable. I don't think this country knows how lucky they are, he said darkly. You've been in Asturia, and you've seen the castle at Palas. This is a shack compared to that, and it's because his Majesty's been putting as much as possible in the treasury, not in his palace. Most royals would have spent the surplus on new toys and shiny new towers. He's well aware that right now, if Fanelia gets one bad harvest year, your nation could starve. The money's being put aside for something like that, but right now you don't have enough to feed the masses for a year.

Merle nodded grimly. Go on.

It would be in the nation's best interest to do what Grava Aston did with Millerna and I. Something flashed in Dryden's eyes as his ex-wife's name crossed his lips, but he continued. Find a fabulously wealthy family, and marry Van off to the daughter. The daughter gets protection and palace life, and Van gets access to funds Fanelia needs.

He'll never do that! Merle protested.

Dryden rolled his eyes, saying sarcastically, For some reason, I think his Majesty actually cares about this country. If you land in dire straits, he just might. There's an obscure law that says the king cannot be married until he's eighteen cycles old, but that doesn't prohibit betrothals. He frowned. On the other hand, if Fanelia makes it through a couple more good years, his Majesty should be set financially. Sadly, there's still the problem with Hitomi to deal with.

What's wrong with Hitomi? Merle demanded. People know her as a hero from the war!

They heard of the girl from the Mystic Moon that saw things and helped win the war, he corrected. That's the Hitomi Gaea knows. But as far as politics go... There are too many alliances that could be made with another country for Van to marry someone whose only ties are with the Mystic Moon. If she had a nation backing her, or a powerful family, it'd make all the sense in the world. He laughed shortly. Once, my father considered grafting her onto our family as something like a mistress for one of us. But she's an unblooded girl from, as far as the general populace knows, the cursed Mystic Moon, and hero or no, she brings nothing to the table but second sight and a very winning personality. The most his Majesty can legitimately do to raise her status is have her declared the Eye of the Gods.

The what now?

Remember the Plaktu Priests of Freid? Dryden asked her. The chief one is the Voice of the Gods. Asturia's High Priest of Jichia is the Hand of the Gods. Freid has the Voice, Asturia has the Hand, and Fanelia has the Eye. They're people who gain knowledge through supernatural means and subsequently guide the ruling house. Fanelia hasn't had an Eye of the Gods in decades, but Hitomi is more than qualified. She'd get some respect, at least, and a position to wield. However, it wouldn't be enough to justify a marriage.

That's so... calculated, Merle said after a moment.

When you're responsible for a country, everything has to be calculated. He shrugged. But in answer to your question, unless, say, the gods themselves descend to declare Hitomi Grand Poo-bah of Gaea, they probably can't get married.

Merle's shoulders drooped, and she stared at the ground. He's never going to be happy without her.

Dryden sighed. I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but monarchs are rarely happy people. At her confused look, he elaborated. You're responsible for a nation, and anything its people do. His Majesty was lucky he had a few years where Folken was the heir, but still-royalty can't put a toe out of line without offending someone who could be crucial to running the country. Your citizens will blame you for everything, then die trying to protect you. Subjects can afford to be selfish ever so often, but kings can't. You're born for your country, you live for your country, you marry for your country, and you die for your country. You spend your life being perpetually watched, guarded, scrutinized, tested, and judged, and as hard as you try, you can never make everyone happy. So help you if you break even the most archaic of laws, because if the king doesn't follow his own laws, why do his subjects have to? And most monarchs don't have to rebuild their nation, or deal with superstitions such as Draconians being cursed demons. He smiled bitterly. A life fit for a king, indeed.

Before Merle could think of something to say to that, there was a knock at the door. Enter, Dryden called.

An aide bustled in, looking harried. Lord Dryden, a caravan of Tribeland traders has come through the gates, and the Shanu Denedra is with them.

The merchant scowled at the mention of the Tribeland leader, and wondered grumpily what other surprises would come before Van returned. Tell the Head of Hospitality to prep the castle as much as possible, he said, getting to his feet. Merle, we can continue this conversation later.

She shook her head, clearly troubled. There's no need.

Hitomi and Van had passed the border between Asturia and Basram around ten o'clock, and in sharp contrast to the day before, the weather had cleared, though a crisp chill made both pull their cloaks around them a bit tighter. Steady conversation kept their minds off the cold; Hitomi told Van about the wonders of modern medicine and technology, and he filled her in on the political structures of Gaea. They talked about the benefits and downsides of science, and whether Gaea needed it or not. She described her track meets, he his plans for further improvements for Fanelia.

It was afternoon when they saw the village, but they'd been riding past fields for an hour or so, and apparently someone has seen them coming, because a figure was running down the road towards them. Keep going until they're close enough to hear, Van said lowly, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

His caution was unnecessary, though: it was no more than a frantic woman, red-faced and breathless. She could barely even speak, but she managed to wheeze out, Son-a healer-leg-

Is someone hurt? Hitomi asked quickly. The woman nodded. Your son hurt his leg?

Bleedin'-real bad-it won't stop-healer's in next town-

Where is he?

-house-red door-white shutters-

Come on, Van! Hitomi urged Clover into a run, one which jarred her bones and she'd still feel the next morning.

What are you doing, Hitomi? he yelled as he drew alongside her, his years of riding making it easier to manage the pace.

The kid needs help!

You think you can do more than anyone in the village?

I'm certified by the Red Cross in First Aid!

What?

It means I know some emergency procedures! Mom made me take the class before she let me babysit! She glared at him. Besides, the woman said the healer's in the next town, and I took care of you, didn't I?

This could be a trap!

How would anyone know we'd be coming? Besides, if this were a trap, I think I'd have seen some blood raining from the sky before we left, or something!

She's got a point there, he thought darkly.

They thundered into the cluster of cottages, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the one with a red door and white shutters. Hitomi almost broke a strap pulling a pack free, then burst in, Van trailing behind with an eye to any sudden movements besides hers.

It took them both a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim interior, but ears needed no such time, and they clearly heard the shouts of surprise. Van, explain, Hitomi said briskly, looking around until her eyes found the boy. He looked to be about ten and was lying on a bed, the sheets stained thick crimson. His left leg was twisted wrong below the knee, and she was forced to swallow bile when she saw bone breaking the skin.

What do I do? What do I do? How do I treat this?

First, figure out the extent of the damage-maybe you can use your second sight for that, so you don't have to probe for anything-and then go from there.

The boy looked at her with wide eyes as she knelt by him, shivering from shock. That she at least could help: Someone put a blanket over him. Chewing her lip, she closed her eyes and used her inner eye to examine the wound. It was worse than she'd thought, and panic rose again in her. If she set the bone, she'd put him through excruciating pain, unless they poured vino down the boy's throat, and even then-he'd severed an artery, how was she going to fix that? What could she do?

Your wishes will always come true.

Hitomi gasped, eyes flying open. No, that-that couldn't be right-she'd get herself into more trouble, and who knew what it would do to the boy-

Just-try to take away the pain, and maybe if that works-

Hitomi's hands fisted, then opened, and holding a hand over the wreck of a leg, she focused all of her will on lifting the pain. The boy looked at her in surprise, and part of her shook inside: she could feel his nerves numbing, relinquishing their sensitivity. Does that-feel better? she asked, voice tight. He nodded, pale.

Maybe I can heal it-I stopped the pain, I can-if I believe, I can-

Moving slowly, she ignored her quailing stomach and pulled the leg back into its proper position, fighting for control of the nerves-both the boy's and her own. If she focused hard enough, willed hard enough, she could-she could fix this.

And she tried. Hitomi ignored the murmur of voices behind her, and Van trying to keep them quiet; she ignored the slickness of the blood now crusting under her fingers; she ignored the ache of her knees, and spun her thoughts into a single point, willing it to happen as she deigned.

The torn muscles and bone began to knit together, but slowly. A moment's distraction, and they stopped.

Hitomi braced herself on the bed frame as the breath left her body, almost caving in on herself. No, she whispered through gritted teeth, and concentrated on the flesh, the bone, the artery. Mend, she ordered them. They feebly moved. Mend!

It wasn't enough. She didn't know what she was doing, and the power of her wishes wasn't enough to save this boy's life. Now shaking herself, Hitomi bowed her head, searching her mind for a solution.

It was made to amplify a person's powers and awake any dormant ones, among other things...

The pendant!

She straightened and twisted to half-face the others. Van, I need the pendant!

He didn't argue, instead pulling the chain over his head and dropping it into her free hand. Hitomi clenched it tightly, then focused her mind once again. This boy's leg will be healed, she thought silently, concentrating on that. It will obey my command. It will heal. I will it to be so.

And then, focusing even harder than before, she applied her will.

Nobody in the room could really explain what happened later. For the boy's aunt and father, they saw the walls of the cottage bending and not much else, struggling to keep their footing on a ground that shifted beneath them. Van, however, saw much more, for he was watching Hitomi the entire time.

The boy's leg was healed in a flash. Hitomi sprang back as if she'd been burned, and to his astonishment, her hair was growing-

What on Gaea is happening?

Hitomi saw the world shifting. There were cries behind her and her heart wrenched. The room went silent. She thought she saw Van's boot stumble into her vision.

I'm not pretty enough-I hate my hair-

It rolled out, growing past her shoulders, down her back-

Van tried to find something solid to hold onto as the world rippled around them all. The room lightened, then darkened, and Hitomi was on her hands and knees-

For an instant, he saw another girl on her hands and knees, but everything was different, and-were those wings? Then it was gone-

Hitomi could feel her eyes changing color, ranging from all the colors she'd ever wished they were. Her body was changing, but she was panicking as her fingers turned long and slender-too much, no, she wanted them shorter-they shrank to stubs-

Fear was sending frozen lightning down her veins, and she panicked, a thousand urges and desires sweeping across her mind, and the world struggling to comply, and something inside her forcing it to-

No-No, stop-

She felt like she was going to drown in the floor-

STOP!

Time froze.

NO-just put it back the way it was put it back put it back-

The pendant flared, eclipsing any other light, and she felt power being drawn out from within her. Things were righting themselves-the ground was steadying-her eyes were the normal color again-

Then the power went out, before her hair could return to its normal length. The boy's leg was still healed. The cottage was just the same; the boy was fine, and she-

Hitomi was terrified.

Van watched her slowly raise her head, and look at him with green eyes paralyzed with fear. Then she crumpled, falling with a soft thud.

Hitomi! He darted forward and gathered her into his arms, searching her wrist for a pulse. It fluttered under his fingers, quick and faint, but beginning to slow. She was as pale as her charge, but he was awake, and she showed no signs of coming around.

The boy's father shuffled over, and Van looked up. The man looked at his son, then at the unconscious girl in his king's arms, and asked with honest, befuddled awe, Does that happen ev'ry time she heals un?
...:...:...

Yes, I know, it's a shorter chapter. I'm also having chapter insecurity because it feels a heckuva lot shorter than usual. Normally, the chapters run about twenty pages long, and this is seventeen, but I think that's still fairly decent... right?

Anyway, I know, I said I was working on that story for the competition, and honestly, I am. However, ever so often I'd get writer's block or just have to take a break (it's a rather depressing story) and I'd come and work on this. Haha. And now this chapter's done, but the story isn't. I still need to make a decision regarding character mortality for the third part. Once I make that decision, I'll finish it... but in the meantime, looks like you guys won't be suffering too much from a lack of updates.

Do keep in mind that I'll be heading off to college in less than a month, though, and I make no guarantees about update schedules then. I mean, wee ickle freshman me committed academic suicide by testing into 4th-year College Spoken Japanese, which is a really great class for me to have, since I have no idea what to expect out of a college class and all.

And on behalf of Japanese students everywhere: Fanfic authors, every time you use Japanese improperly in a fic, God kills a Japanese major. Which means I'm going to be eating it someday soon. But hopefully I'll finish this story beforehand.

As a final note, thanks to all my reviewers! Makes my day, takes my breath away, so on and so forth. My apologies for a shorter chapter, and I suspect the next one may be on the short side as well, but the sixth chapter shall make up for it (if all goes according to plan.)

Oh, and do know one thing: I don't do needless fluff. Van's hands are the way they are with good reason. What reason would that be? I'll let you speculate.