HOME | DD

Description
A loud grunt flew from Cain’s lips as the fist of a mercenary slammed into his gut. His back collided with the hard concrete wall of Doluna Keep, and he barely raised his sword in time to fend off the attack that would have ripped him open. Gathering his strength, Cain gave a mighty shove, using the wall to propel himself forward with enough momentum to stagger his opponent.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cain could see his partner Abel locked in a tight battle with another Dolhrian soldier; the green-haired man had the upper hand, but couldn’t afford to look away for even a second and risk losing his advantage. Focusing back on his own duel, he realized too late that his enemy had already recovered. As the redhead narrowly dodged the blade, he felt the hair on the back of his neck raise—the sound of the sword flying through empty air had been uncomfortably close.
As Cain parried with his sword, slicing it deep into the flesh of the soldier’s arm, he found himself wishing that he could be atop his horse again; the halls of Doluna Keep were much too narrow for the paladin to stay mounted, and he had to trust his might with his sword instead of his lance.
The mercenary yelped in pain, gripping his arm with the hand that wasn’t holding his sword. Blood spilled through his fingertips and splattered on the floor, and he turned tail to dart back to the healers that waited safely away from combat. He scrambled just out of Cain’s reach, fleeing through the small doorway to the room that the two paladins had been defending.
Cain knew better than to let the mercenary escape; he’d be back within moments of having his arm patched up, and the battle would have been for naught. Casting one last glance towards Abel, he couldn’t help but grin as he saw his partner on the verge of victory. Leaving him to his battle, Cain raced through the doorway after the enemy—the slow mercenary was only slightly ahead of him.
Already running, Cain used his forward momentum to tackle his opponent to the ground, gripping him around the waist to pull him down and pin him on his stomach to the cold floor. The Dolhrian soldier struggled mightily, jabbing the point of his elbow into Cain’s jaw; as the redhead’s grip loosened slightly, the mercenary wrenched free, scrambling to his feet and trying to kick Cain away.
Cain grabbed the enemy’s leg as he kicked, pulling him back to the ground. They rolled around on the hard floor, each trying to get the upper hand but failing to obtain any advantages over the other. Finally, Cain brought his knee up and jammed it into the mercenary’s abdomen, effectively holding him down. Their weapons lay on the floor just next to them, thrown carelessly in the scrap for power, and they fought with only their fists. Blood stained the floor from the mercenary’s wound, and the weakness in his right arm was Cain’s opportunity; fighting the Dolhrian’s writhing, he quickly reached for his sword.
He reared it back, preparing to make the final strike, but suddenly a thunderous crash echoed through the halls, throwing Cain off balance and nearly making him lose his grip on the pinned enemy. Casting a quick glance around, he tried to find what the source of the noise was, but didn’t see anything different. When he turned back, he noticed that the Dolhrian had a smirk that gave Cain a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“What did you do?” He demanded, his fingers tightening around the mercenary’s throat. To Cain’s shock, the defeated man began to laugh; it was a vile noise that disturbed the redhead to his core, and he squeezed tighter to cut off the mercenary’s air supply in hopes of stopping that horrid laugh.
“You can’t win,” the mercenary sneered through crooked, yellow teeth, his voice raspy as he struggled to speak with limited air. “You’ll rot here in these halls...”
“You—” The words took Cain by surprise. “You’re wrong!” The Dolhrian responded by spitting towards Cain’s face, and he narrowly dodged the flying wad of drool and blood. His patience in dealing with this enemy was long since gone, and he raised his sword once more, plunging it deep through the mercenary’s chest. Withdrawing it quickly, he finally released his hold on the soldier’s throat, and left him in the hall to die.
Suddenly realizing he was breathing heavily from the ordeal, Cain stopped a moment to catch his breath, and looked around at his surroundings. After a moment, he realized that he had no idea where he was; surely he hadn’t strayed too far from the room in his chase after the mercenary. He started to walk down the hall, but soon ran into a dead end.
“Cain?”
He jumped as he heard his name, but he couldn’t place where it came from. Strangely, it sounded like Abel’s voice, but he was alone in the hall and the room wasn’t there. He searched along the wall for a moment, absentmindedly running his hand along it when his fingers caught in a small dent in the wall. Examining it closer, he realized that it wasn’t a dent, but the hinges of a door that blended into the wall, almost unnoticeable.
“Cain? Hey, Cain!” It was definitely Abel’s voice, sounding more concerned, coming from the other side of the dark wall. Suddenly, Cain realized; the loud crash must have been the door slamming into place while he was busy with the mercenary.
“I’m here,” he called, his hands running up and down the door to try and find a handle, or a switch, or… anything, really, but all he could feel was the cold cement. “Can you open the door from that side?”
“No, it’s just a flat—” Abel suddenly cut off, and Cain felt his stomach churn; he had a bad feeling about this.
“Abel? What’s going on?”
“I hear footsteps. Someone’s coming up from the stairs. They’re—shit!”
Cain could feel a blast of heat coming from the other side of the door. He jumped back, eyes widening in shock and realization. Although Cain could make his way through the castle from the other end of the hall, Abel was trapped in the room, a live target for the enemies that would soon come flocking up from beneath the castle.
Panic began to brew inside of him, and he frantically searched for some kind of opening or crease, anything he could use to pry open the door. He pounded on it with his fists, but it was solid and heavy; there was no chance of breaking it down by force. He discovered a single keyhole near the left center, but no keys were in sight, and he didn’t have anything to attempt picking the lock with.
Loud crashes and grunts were audible from the other side of the door. From the amount of noise that was being made, Cain could tell that more soldiers had stormed up from the staircase. Then, suddenly, there was a scream of pain that was all too familiar.
“Cain! Cain!!” Abel’s cries came through piercingly clear, even though the solid door separated them. There was a strange scraping noise, as if Abel was scratching at the cement to try and claw his way out.
Helpless to do anything, Cain smashed the hilt of his sword against the door, trying in vain to loosen it. Then, suddenly, a burning heat seared through his right calf, and he gasped in surprise and pain. Looking over his shoulder to find the source, he stared down into the grinning face of the supposedly-dead mercenary. A thick trail of blood accompanied the soldier, pooling on the ground behind him as he crawled. The handle of his dagger was the only visible part of the weapon; the rest of it was buried deep into Cain’s leg.
He turned to fend off the half-dead mercenary, but the weakness in his leg threw him off balance and he stumbled, his back hitting the door as he slid to the ground. The Dolhrian quickly removed the dagger and then plunged it into the flesh of Cain’s thigh, ripping it out sloppily and taking spurts of blood with it.
Cain tried to shove the Dolhrian off, but the soldier held on with surprising strength and thrust the knife forward again, sinking it first into Cain’s abdomen and then into his shoulder. Finally, Cain got a grip on the mercenary and gave a powerful push, sending him crashing into the opposite wall; his head bashed against the hard concrete, and he fell to the ground face-first where he lay, unmoving.
The redhead’s chest heaved rapidly as he struggled to breathe, the dagger still buried in his shoulder. The wounds stung harshly, and when he tried to apply pressure to the slit in his stomach, blood seeped out over his fingers, staining them dark maroon. Faintly, he could hear the sound of yelling and metal clashing; suddenly remembering Abel was still trapped, he tried to stand, but his injured leg refused to support his weight.
The yelling was getting louder, and Cain’s mind was swimming with confusion. Was the door opening? Why could he suddenly hear the sound of fighting so clearly? Before he could turn to see whether or not the room had been unlocked, something else caught his attention. Footsteps thundered from the other end of the hall, and he reached for the sword that he had dropped in the last scuffle with the mercenary. He tightened his grip around the handle, unsure of how well he could fend off any attackers in this state.
Altean soldiers came bursting around the corner, pursued closely by a large group of Dolhrians. They raced down the hall towards the dead end that lay in front of them, and soon they were forced to turn back and fight. Cain could barely keep his eyes open, much less his chin up, but he thought he saw the glint of the Falchion, if only for just a moment. He felt a hand on his good shoulder, shaking him, and he weakly raised his head, meeting the eyes of the Altean mercenary, Ogma.
“Get up,” he said forcefully, quickly pushing his blonde hair back out of his face. “We have to get out of here, now.”
“Prince… Where’s Prince Marth?” Cain mumbled the words, not having the energy to try and stand again; the blood loss was making him dizzy.
“Retreating. The castle was a t—” Ogma was interrupted by the presence of a Dolhrian soldier that had attempted to sneak up on him; whirling around, the mercenary raised his sword to strike down the weaker man.
The door, Cain wanted to say, wanted to scream, but couldn’t. Break the door, Abel’s still in there… His consciousness was fading fast, and all he could hear was the screams of the soldiers—whether they were Altean or Dolhrian, he couldn’t tell—until his vision failed.

......................

“Are you going to sell these in your shop, too?”
An amused chuckle came from Abel’s lips as he looked at the item that Cain held out towards him. “How many times are you going to pick up random rocks and ask me that?”
“Until you start saying yes,” the redhead retorted playfully, tossing the glittery rock behind him. “I bet the girls in town love those kinds of sparkly things.”
“Ah, yes, I’ll show my partner a shiny rock and surely they’ll understand my devotion,” Abel replied sarcastically.
“Moron, what do you think a wedding ring is?”
They continued their playful banter for a short while, but it slowly died away, and soon there was only the sound of their footsteps on the hard earth. Their horses had been stationed in the forest that was a ways behind them now, and they’d had to walk the rest of the way to Doluna Keep on foot. In front of the others, but only steps behind Prince Marth, the two soldiers exchanged quick and uncomfortable glances.
The large castle made Cain uneasy; the closer they got, the faster his heart seemed to beat, and it pounded loudly in his chest as Marth swung open the large door that was the entrance.
Cain felt a chill run up his body when his boots stepped from the soft earth onto the cold concrete. The front hall was deserted, and oddly silent. Marth’s chosen soldiers filed into the castle quietly, waiting for their prince to give the order to attack.
Without warning, the silence was broken by a loud crash as the door swung shut behind the group, bouncing off the walls and echoing thunderously in the large room. Cain whirled around, sword drawn, and quickly realized that some of the soldiers were missing. Before he could even count how many were gone, more began to disappear in front of his very eyes, bathed in a strange blue light before fading from view. He recognized it as the same light that had been used when they traveled with Gotoh; a powerful warp magic that could send a man miles away in a mere instant.
Instinctively taking a step back, Cain realized that the glow had started from the back of the room; most of the soldiers were gone, spirited away to somewhere unknown, until only three of them remained. Cain locked eyes with Abel for only a moment, reading in them fear and confusion, and then he too, was gone.
“Sire!” The redhead yelled for Marth, reaching out to grab his arm, thinking that perhaps if they kept contact, the warp magic would send them to the same place. He could not fail to protect his liege, not again... As he reached, his outstretched fingers sailed through Marth’s skin like a ghost. No! Sound refused to come from his mouth, and it opened in a silent scream as his vision faded blue as his body was engulfed into the light.

......................

Cain’s auburn eyes flew open, and his chest heaved up and down. His body felt numb, and he was unsure if he would be able to move. After casting a glance around, he immediately wished that he hadn’t. Bodies littered the hall, none moving and all soaked in blood. Someone was draped over his legs, face-down and recognizable with a hood pulled up. Trying to move, he reached forward towards the person, and his arm flared with pain as he realized the knife from the mercenary was still buried deep in his shoulder. With his other arm, he grabbed the hood of the dead person and struggled to pull them away, freeing the crushing weight from his numb legs. The body tumbled aside, face-up now, and Cain’s face paled as he looked into the mutilated face of Merric, half of his face unrecognizable due to large, severe burns that had melted away parts of his skin.
Not able to look at the gruesome sight for long, Cain turned his head away. The numbness in his body was fading, but it was quickly replaced by a prickling pain that was only increasing the more he tried to move. He reached up and gripped the hilt of the dagger in his shoulder, yanking it out with as much force as he could muster, and letting out a loud cry as fiery pain seared through his arm. The reaction of his body tensing up only made it worse, and he gasped loudly as he struggled to stay still, and he found himself wishing that the numbness would return; anything was better than this intense, burning torment.
“… Cain?” A quiet, hopeful voice reached the redhead’s ears, and he froze, taking a moment to find the source of the sound and finally pinpointing it.
“Abel, you…” Cain’s voice was scratchy and his throat burned as he talked. “You’re still alive…” His back leaned against the wall that separated him from his green-haired partner, and he was a bit surprised that he could hear him so clearly. He was even more surprised that the other paladin still breathed; he had expected the worst.
“Cain, they… Ugh, they got me bad…” There was silence for a moment, and Cain couldn’t hear Abel’s breathing over his own. “You have to get out… of the castle…”
Cain closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall and letting out a long sigh. “I think this might be it for us, Abel,” he murmured, not sure if he was speaking loud enough for Abel to even hear him. “I’ve been prepared to die since I joined, but… I never imagined it would be… like this.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Abel protested, pausing for a moment before continuing, as if he were talking with limited breath, and he was. “You’re supposed to be the optimist, Cain…”
The redhead laughed weakly, but it was without humor. “We almost did it, Abel, we were so close, but… this is end of the road.” He heard that sorrowful laugh again without even realizing it was him making the sound. “We got so far…”
“Yeah, we did, didn’t we? So close…” Silence again, but only for a moment. “And at any time… Prince Marth will come running to the rescue… like he always has before… Right?”
Hearing the tiny sliver of useless hope in Abel’s voice felt worse than any pain from a knife in Cain’s skin. “I don’t think anyone’s coming for us,” he responded lowly, opening his eyes again. To his right down the hall, he had a clear view of the Prince’s limp body, his head lolled towards Cain, face frozen in surprise. The blade Falchion still shined with the blue-haired hero’s blood as it stuck out from his chest where it was buried deep into his heart.
“So ends the tale of the mighty Bull and Panther.” The sound of Abel’s voice cracking as he spoke the nicknames that the two had acquired throughout the was absolute torment to Cain’s ears, and he felt a thick tear spill from the corner of his eye.
“I just wish… I could see you smile for me… one last time.” Cain had to take a deep breath after speaking, and grunted from the pain that still wracked his abdomen; he was ready to go, ready to be finished with the agony that refused to stop. He cursed the Dolhrians again; if he and Abel were to die here in these halls, the ultimate wound was doing so without being allowed to be together in their last moments, the concrete door still separating them.
No response came. Cain waited, breathing loudly, his head feeling dizzy again from the blood loss. “Abel?” He said finally, beginning to fear the worst. Even though he had been expecting it, some tiny part of him still wished that this all was a dream, a terrible nightmare from which he would awaken at any moment.
Still, the silence persisted, until finally it was interrupted by a small clicking noise, like the sound of a key sliding into a lock. Then, suddenly, the support behind his back was gone; he fell to the side, landing on his elbows, facing the door that had just swung open, and he gasped.
Abel’s bloodied body was littered with deep cuts and gashes, his armor useless against such sharp blades. A Dolhrian thief, the one who had opened the door, held a handful of Abel’s messy green hair in his fist, holding him upright and exposing his neck. The paladin’s eyes were barely opened, but they widened the moment he saw Cain. A smile began to form on his face, a genuine grin, even as blood trickled from his mouth. Then, without warning, the thief raised his dagger to Abel’s neck, slicing it easily across his exposed throat.
“Abel! No…” Helpless to do anything, Cain reached his hand out towards the defeated man, wishing with all his might that he would be able to wrest his partner away from the thief, but his efforts were in vain. The Dolhrian let go of Abel and the green-haired soldier’s limp body lurched forward, falling into Cain’s waiting arms.
Cain stared down at Abel in disbelief and horror. His green eyes, always so full of energy, were glazed over and empty, gazing up at nothing. His face was frozen in that smile that Cain had wished for, deep dimples still visible even underneath the layer of dried blood that was caked on his face.
“Abel... Abel…” Cain sobbed his partner’s name over and over. He hugged his best friend’s body close, not letting go even as he felt himself being soaked with Abel’s blood, even as he felt the tears stinging in his eyes, even as he felt the edge of the thief’s dagger slide into his flesh and pierce his heart…
And then, he felt nothing at all.

Description
A loud grunt flew from Cain’s lips as the fist of a mercenary slammed into his gut. His back collided with the hard concrete wall of Doluna Keep, and he barely raised his sword in time to fend off the attack that would have ripped him open. Gathering his strength, Cain gave a mighty shove, using the wall to propel himself forward with enough momentum to stagger his opponent.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cain could see his partner Abel locked in a tight battle with another Dolhrian soldier; the green-haired man had the upper hand, but couldn’t afford to look away for even a second and risk losing his advantage. Focusing back on his own duel, he realized too late that his enemy had already recovered. As the redhead narrowly dodged the blade, he felt the hair on the back of his neck raise—the sound of the sword flying through empty air had been uncomfortably close.
As Cain parried with his sword, slicing it deep into the flesh of the soldier’s arm, he found himself wishing that he could be atop his horse again; the halls of Doluna Keep were much too narrow for the paladin to stay mounted, and he had to trust his might with his sword instead of his lance.
The mercenary yelped in pain, gripping his arm with the hand that wasn’t holding his sword. Blood spilled through his fingertips and splattered on the floor, and he turned tail to dart back to the healers that waited safely away from combat. He scrambled just out of Cain’s reach, fleeing through the small doorway to the room that the two paladins had been defending.
Cain knew better than to let the mercenary escape; he’d be back within moments of having his arm patched up, and the battle would have been for naught. Casting one last glance towards Abel, he couldn’t help but grin as he saw his partner on the verge of victory. Leaving him to his battle, Cain raced through the doorway after the enemy—the slow mercenary was only slightly ahead of him.
Already running, Cain used his forward momentum to tackle his opponent to the ground, gripping him around the waist to pull him down and pin him on his stomach to the cold floor. The Dolhrian soldier struggled mightily, jabbing the point of his elbow into Cain’s jaw; as the redhead’s grip loosened slightly, the mercenary wrenched free, scrambling to his feet and trying to kick Cain away.
Cain grabbed the enemy’s leg as he kicked, pulling him back to the ground. They rolled around on the hard floor, each trying to get the upper hand but failing to obtain any advantages over the other. Finally, Cain brought his knee up and jammed it into the mercenary’s abdomen, effectively holding him down. Their weapons lay on the floor just next to them, thrown carelessly in the scrap for power, and they fought with only their fists. Blood stained the floor from the mercenary’s wound, and the weakness in his right arm was Cain’s opportunity; fighting the Dolhrian’s writhing, he quickly reached for his sword.
He reared it back, preparing to make the final strike, but suddenly a thunderous crash echoed through the halls, throwing Cain off balance and nearly making him lose his grip on the pinned enemy. Casting a quick glance around, he tried to find what the source of the noise was, but didn’t see anything different. When he turned back, he noticed that the Dolhrian had a smirk that gave Cain a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“What did you do?” He demanded, his fingers tightening around the mercenary’s throat. To Cain’s shock, the defeated man began to laugh; it was a vile noise that disturbed the redhead to his core, and he squeezed tighter to cut off the mercenary’s air supply in hopes of stopping that horrid laugh.
“You can’t win,” the mercenary sneered through crooked, yellow teeth, his voice raspy as he struggled to speak with limited air. “You’ll rot here in these halls...”
“You—” The words took Cain by surprise. “You’re wrong!” The Dolhrian responded by spitting towards Cain’s face, and he narrowly dodged the flying wad of drool and blood. His patience in dealing with this enemy was long since gone, and he raised his sword once more, plunging it deep through the mercenary’s chest. Withdrawing it quickly, he finally released his hold on the soldier’s throat, and left him in the hall to die.
Suddenly realizing he was breathing heavily from the ordeal, Cain stopped a moment to catch his breath, and looked around at his surroundings. After a moment, he realized that he had no idea where he was; surely he hadn’t strayed too far from the room in his chase after the mercenary. He started to walk down the hall, but soon ran into a dead end.
“Cain?”
He jumped as he heard his name, but he couldn’t place where it came from. Strangely, it sounded like Abel’s voice, but he was alone in the hall and the room wasn’t there. He searched along the wall for a moment, absentmindedly running his hand along it when his fingers caught in a small dent in the wall. Examining it closer, he realized that it wasn’t a dent, but the hinges of a door that blended into the wall, almost unnoticeable.
“Cain? Hey, Cain!” It was definitely Abel’s voice, sounding more concerned, coming from the other side of the dark wall. Suddenly, Cain realized; the loud crash must have been the door slamming into place while he was busy with the mercenary.
“I’m here,” he called, his hands running up and down the door to try and find a handle, or a switch, or… anything, really, but all he could feel was the cold cement. “Can you open the door from that side?”
“No, it’s just a flat—” Abel suddenly cut off, and Cain felt his stomach churn; he had a bad feeling about this.
“Abel? What’s going on?”
“I hear footsteps. Someone’s coming up from the stairs. They’re—shit!”
Cain could feel a blast of heat coming from the other side of the door. He jumped back, eyes widening in shock and realization. Although Cain could make his way through the castle from the other end of the hall, Abel was trapped in the room, a live target for the enemies that would soon come flocking up from beneath the castle.
Panic began to brew inside of him, and he frantically searched for some kind of opening or crease, anything he could use to pry open the door. He pounded on it with his fists, but it was solid and heavy; there was no chance of breaking it down by force. He discovered a single keyhole near the left center, but no keys were in sight, and he didn’t have anything to attempt picking the lock with.
Loud crashes and grunts were audible from the other side of the door. From the amount of noise that was being made, Cain could tell that more soldiers had stormed up from the staircase. Then, suddenly, there was a scream of pain that was all too familiar.
“Cain! Cain!!” Abel’s cries came through piercingly clear, even though the solid door separated them. There was a strange scraping noise, as if Abel was scratching at the cement to try and claw his way out.
Helpless to do anything, Cain smashed the hilt of his sword against the door, trying in vain to loosen it. Then, suddenly, a burning heat seared through his right calf, and he gasped in surprise and pain. Looking over his shoulder to find the source, he stared down into the grinning face of the supposedly-dead mercenary. A thick trail of blood accompanied the soldier, pooling on the ground behind him as he crawled. The handle of his dagger was the only visible part of the weapon; the rest of it was buried deep into Cain’s leg.
He turned to fend off the half-dead mercenary, but the weakness in his leg threw him off balance and he stumbled, his back hitting the door as he slid to the ground. The Dolhrian quickly removed the dagger and then plunged it into the flesh of Cain’s thigh, ripping it out sloppily and taking spurts of blood with it.
Cain tried to shove the Dolhrian off, but the soldier held on with surprising strength and thrust the knife forward again, sinking it first into Cain’s abdomen and then into his shoulder. Finally, Cain got a grip on the mercenary and gave a powerful push, sending him crashing into the opposite wall; his head bashed against the hard concrete, and he fell to the ground face-first where he lay, unmoving.
The redhead’s chest heaved rapidly as he struggled to breathe, the dagger still buried in his shoulder. The wounds stung harshly, and when he tried to apply pressure to the slit in his stomach, blood seeped out over his fingers, staining them dark maroon. Faintly, he could hear the sound of yelling and metal clashing; suddenly remembering Abel was still trapped, he tried to stand, but his injured leg refused to support his weight.
The yelling was getting louder, and Cain’s mind was swimming with confusion. Was the door opening? Why could he suddenly hear the sound of fighting so clearly? Before he could turn to see whether or not the room had been unlocked, something else caught his attention. Footsteps thundered from the other end of the hall, and he reached for the sword that he had dropped in the last scuffle with the mercenary. He tightened his grip around the handle, unsure of how well he could fend off any attackers in this state.
Altean soldiers came bursting around the corner, pursued closely by a large group of Dolhrians. They raced down the hall towards the dead end that lay in front of them, and soon they were forced to turn back and fight. Cain could barely keep his eyes open, much less his chin up, but he thought he saw the glint of the Falchion, if only for just a moment. He felt a hand on his good shoulder, shaking him, and he weakly raised his head, meeting the eyes of the Altean mercenary, Ogma.
“Get up,” he said forcefully, quickly pushing his blonde hair back out of his face. “We have to get out of here, now.”
“Prince… Where’s Prince Marth?” Cain mumbled the words, not having the energy to try and stand again; the blood loss was making him dizzy.
“Retreating. The castle was a t—” Ogma was interrupted by the presence of a Dolhrian soldier that had attempted to sneak up on him; whirling around, the mercenary raised his sword to strike down the weaker man.
The door, Cain wanted to say, wanted to scream, but couldn’t. Break the door, Abel’s still in there… His consciousness was fading fast, and all he could hear was the screams of the soldiers—whether they were Altean or Dolhrian, he couldn’t tell—until his vision failed.

......................

“Are you going to sell these in your shop, too?”
An amused chuckle came from Abel’s lips as he looked at the item that Cain held out towards him. “How many times are you going to pick up random rocks and ask me that?”
“Until you start saying yes,” the redhead retorted playfully, tossing the glittery rock behind him. “I bet the girls in town love those kinds of sparkly things.”
“Ah, yes, I’ll show my partner a shiny rock and surely they’ll understand my devotion,” Abel replied sarcastically.
“Moron, what do you think a wedding ring is?”
They continued their playful banter for a short while, but it slowly died away, and soon there was only the sound of their footsteps on the hard earth. Their horses had been stationed in the forest that was a ways behind them now, and they’d had to walk the rest of the way to Doluna Keep on foot. In front of the others, but only steps behind Prince Marth, the two soldiers exchanged quick and uncomfortable glances.
The large castle made Cain uneasy; the closer they got, the faster his heart seemed to beat, and it pounded loudly in his chest as Marth swung open the large door that was the entrance.
Cain felt a chill run up his body when his boots stepped from the soft earth onto the cold concrete. The front hall was deserted, and oddly silent. Marth’s chosen soldiers filed into the castle quietly, waiting for their prince to give the order to attack.
Without warning, the silence was broken by a loud crash as the door swung shut behind the group, bouncing off the walls and echoing thunderously in the large room. Cain whirled around, sword drawn, and quickly realized that some of the soldiers were missing. Before he could even count how many were gone, more began to disappear in front of his very eyes, bathed in a strange blue light before fading from view. He recognized it as the same light that had been used when they traveled with Gotoh; a powerful warp magic that could send a man miles away in a mere instant.
Instinctively taking a step back, Cain realized that the glow had started from the back of the room; most of the soldiers were gone, spirited away to somewhere unknown, until only three of them remained. Cain locked eyes with Abel for only a moment, reading in them fear and confusion, and then he too, was gone.
“Sire!” The redhead yelled for Marth, reaching out to grab his arm, thinking that perhaps if they kept contact, the warp magic would send them to the same place. He could not fail to protect his liege, not again... As he reached, his outstretched fingers sailed through Marth’s skin like a ghost. No! Sound refused to come from his mouth, and it opened in a silent scream as his vision faded blue as his body was engulfed into the light.

......................

Cain’s auburn eyes flew open, and his chest heaved up and down. His body felt numb, and he was unsure if he would be able to move. After casting a glance around, he immediately wished that he hadn’t. Bodies littered the hall, none moving and all soaked in blood. Someone was draped over his legs, face-down and recognizable with a hood pulled up. Trying to move, he reached forward towards the person, and his arm flared with pain as he realized the knife from the mercenary was still buried deep in his shoulder. With his other arm, he grabbed the hood of the dead person and struggled to pull them away, freeing the crushing weight from his numb legs. The body tumbled aside, face-up now, and Cain’s face paled as he looked into the mutilated face of Merric, half of his face unrecognizable due to large, severe burns that had melted away parts of his skin.
Not able to look at the gruesome sight for long, Cain turned his head away. The numbness in his body was fading, but it was quickly replaced by a prickling pain that was only increasing the more he tried to move. He reached up and gripped the hilt of the dagger in his shoulder, yanking it out with as much force as he could muster, and letting out a loud cry as fiery pain seared through his arm. The reaction of his body tensing up only made it worse, and he gasped loudly as he struggled to stay still, and he found himself wishing that the numbness would return; anything was better than this intense, burning torment.
“… Cain?” A quiet, hopeful voice reached the redhead’s ears, and he froze, taking a moment to find the source of the sound and finally pinpointing it.
“Abel, you…” Cain’s voice was scratchy and his throat burned as he talked. “You’re still alive…” His back leaned against the wall that separated him from his green-haired partner, and he was a bit surprised that he could hear him so clearly. He was even more surprised that the other paladin still breathed; he had expected the worst.
“Cain, they… Ugh, they got me bad…” There was silence for a moment, and Cain couldn’t hear Abel’s breathing over his own. “You have to get out… of the castle…”
Cain closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall and letting out a long sigh. “I think this might be it for us, Abel,” he murmured, not sure if he was speaking loud enough for Abel to even hear him. “I’ve been prepared to die since I joined, but… I never imagined it would be… like this.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Abel protested, pausing for a moment before continuing, as if he were talking with limited breath, and he was. “You’re supposed to be the optimist, Cain…”
The redhead laughed weakly, but it was without humor. “We almost did it, Abel, we were so close, but… this is end of the road.” He heard that sorrowful laugh again without even realizing it was him making the sound. “We got so far…”
“Yeah, we did, didn’t we? So close…” Silence again, but only for a moment. “And at any time… Prince Marth will come running to the rescue… like he always has before… Right?”
Hearing the tiny sliver of useless hope in Abel’s voice felt worse than any pain from a knife in Cain’s skin. “I don’t think anyone’s coming for us,” he responded lowly, opening his eyes again. To his right down the hall, he had a clear view of the Prince’s limp body, his head lolled towards Cain, face frozen in surprise. The blade Falchion still shined with the blue-haired hero’s blood as it stuck out from his chest where it was buried deep into his heart.
“So ends the tale of the mighty Bull and Panther.” The sound of Abel’s voice cracking as he spoke the nicknames that the two had acquired throughout the was absolute torment to Cain’s ears, and he felt a thick tear spill from the corner of his eye.
“I just wish… I could see you smile for me… one last time.” Cain had to take a deep breath after speaking, and grunted from the pain that still wracked his abdomen; he was ready to go, ready to be finished with the agony that refused to stop. He cursed the Dolhrians again; if he and Abel were to die here in these halls, the ultimate wound was doing so without being allowed to be together in their last moments, the concrete door still separating them.
No response came. Cain waited, breathing loudly, his head feeling dizzy again from the blood loss. “Abel?” He said finally, beginning to fear the worst. Even though he had been expecting it, some tiny part of him still wished that this all was a dream, a terrible nightmare from which he would awaken at any moment.
Still, the silence persisted, until finally it was interrupted by a small clicking noise, like the sound of a key sliding into a lock. Then, suddenly, the support behind his back was gone; he fell to the side, landing on his elbows, facing the door that had just swung open, and he gasped.
Abel’s bloodied body was littered with deep cuts and gashes, his armor useless against such sharp blades. A Dolhrian thief, the one who had opened the door, held a handful of Abel’s messy green hair in his fist, holding him upright and exposing his neck. The paladin’s eyes were barely opened, but they widened the moment he saw Cain. A smile began to form on his face, a genuine grin, even as blood trickled from his mouth. Then, without warning, the thief raised his dagger to Abel’s neck, slicing it easily across his exposed throat.
“Abel! No…” Helpless to do anything, Cain reached his hand out towards the defeated man, wishing with all his might that he would be able to wrest his partner away from the thief, but his efforts were in vain. The Dolhrian let go of Abel and the green-haired soldier’s limp body lurched forward, falling into Cain’s waiting arms.
Cain stared down at Abel in disbelief and horror. His green eyes, always so full of energy, were glazed over and empty, gazing up at nothing. His face was frozen in that smile that Cain had wished for, deep dimples still visible even underneath the layer of dried blood that was caked on his face.
“Abel... Abel…” Cain sobbed his partner’s name over and over. He hugged his best friend’s body close, not letting go even as he felt himself being soaked with Abel’s blood, even as he felt the tears stinging in his eyes, even as he felt the edge of the thief’s dagger slide into his flesh and pierce his heart…
And then, he felt nothing at all.