Midnight Battle(Mitsehude)

OoC: Finally, here it is!

Darkness.

Darkness, and through the swirling clouds, a voice:

"We don't need him anymore, do we Koume?" The voice asks.

"Not at all, Kotake…" A different voice, this time followed by a cackle.

"No, don't… please…" Yet another voice, weak, more recognisable… Lunac's own voice.

That dream… again.

The sensation of being lifted, dragged, strapped… strapped onto something made of wood. What was it again? Something long, thin… a broom. Lunac wanted to struggle, to fight back, but he was trapped inside the dark fog.

The feeling of being weightless, suspended by the shoulders over nothing… being blown about by winds… and, all the while, that swirling fog around him.

Then… heat. A wild blast of hot air, scorching, burning…

Falling…

"NO!"

Lunac awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. He was tangled in the thin cotton sheets of his bed. He carefully untangled himself and got up. He hadn't had that dream in so long… after even five hundred years of existence, he still remembered it.

"It's only a dream," he muttered to himself as he put the sheets back onto his bed and went to the washroom to wash up. Only a dream… and yet, every time, it was so vivid, so real… it was like experiencing the pain anew.

Lunac pushed those thoughts from his mind and slipped on a white tunic he found in the wooden chest beside his bed. Then he strapped on his sword and took off in the dim, twisted corridors of the Dome. They were almost dark at this hour, but after a few weeks in the building (was it even a building?) he knew his way around to the main places quite well. After a few minutes, he got to the gardens.

The full moon shone in the star-filled sky, and illuminated the grass and trees on the plain. Lunac sat down, his back to a humongous great oak, and tried to clear his thoughts. Five hundred years… and yet he still couldn’t forget.

A voice from above interrupted his thoughts, “Hello, Lunac. Nice night, isn’t it?”


Lunac looked up into the branches of the oak to see Tokumaru smiling down at him. “Yes, it is,” he replied. “Why are you here?”

“For the same reason as you probably are,” the marauder replied. “To think.” He jumped down and sat cross-legged beside the half-Wolfos.

“That arm bothering you again?” Over the weeks the two had become quite good friends, and Tokumaru had confided to Lunac how Aurora had healed his arm.

“Not that much,” Tokumaru replied. “It’s getting better now. But I really wish Aurora would start my magical training. I can only do a bit of fire controlling…” He sighed.

Lunac suddenly got an idea, and turned to his friend. “How about stretching it out a bit?”

“What, in a battle?”

“Yes.”

“But I have no fire magic,” Tokumaru complained. “You’d have an unfair advantage.”

Lunac thought about it, and got up. He put his hands in a summon position, muttered unintelligible incantations, and spread his arms wide. Out of his chest leaped a small man of fire, who stood at attention in front of him.

“Stand over there,” he instructed. “And don’t come back until the battle is finished.”

The little golem obediently sat down on the sidelines. Lunac turned to Tokumaru, who had been watching the procedure intently, and said, “There. You have your soul-magic, I have my ice magic. Now let’s fight.” He unsheathed his sword and walked over to a tree about a hundred yards away.

“Your move,” he said.