And there would be more partings, more losses, more wounds, over and over, again and again. He could change his destiny a hundred times, and each time another loss or separation would be waiting for him on the other side.
As long as there is happiness, there will be sadness. As long as there is fortune, there will be misfortune.
“The joy and the sadness on my journey through Vision taught me that you can’t wait around for your fate to change. What’s real is something that not even the strength of the Goddess can change. The only one who can change it is me. If I don’t change my own destiny, if I don’t cut through the obstacles in my path, then no matter where I go, I’ll always be standing in the same place, doing the same thing over and over again, for the rest of my life.”
That’s why I have to protect Vision. That’s why I can’t let the demonkin win.
“But I—we are powerless to defeat the demonkin. Left as it is, the darkness will swallow Vision whole. That’s why my wish to you is to save Vision. Give my Vision a future. Give my friends a future.”
Wataru stopped talking and looked at the Goddess’s face. Her eyes were closed, though her eyelids were trembling, as though they might open at any moment and return his gaze.
But the Goddess’s eyes remained closed. Her white hand in his was motionless, without feeling, like the hand of a finely crafted doll.
“Even should this invasion be stopped, it does not ensure that Vision will have a future,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “You know this as well as I do. I fear that the Northern Empire and the Southern United Nations will not find harmony. The war will continue. Nor will the discrimination you saw on your travels end easily. Knowing this, would you still use your one chance to change your destiny in the real world to help the people of this Vision?”
Wataru was sure. “Yes. Absolutely.”
The endless, foolish, and stupid waging of war, the narrow minds that could only see what they believed and nothing else, impatient hands that reached only for the nearest, most convenient pleasures, all of this was part of Wataru’s Vision too.
It’s all in me.
“There’s a point to all the mistakes, the comebacks, the rethinking, the living—the living for all you’re worth. There’s a point to finding our own path. Please, give the people of Vision a chance to find theirs.”
Inside, Wataru was perfectly calm. He had said all there was to say. He was now filled with a soul-satisfying contentment.
He bowed his head again deeply.
Then he felt the Goddess’s slender fingers tighten around his own.
“Very well.”
The Goddess leaned forward and lifted Wataru’s chin in her hand. The smile had returned to her face. The aura enveloping her was dazzling to behold. “I shall grant your wish. Stand.”
Wataru stood, straightening himself as best he could.
“Give me your sword, the Demon’s Bane you have completed.”
Wataru drew the sword from the sheath at his waist, handing it to her with both hands.
The Goddess stood without a sound. “Look at your feet.”
Wataru lowered his eyes and gasped. Images were swirling across the circular dais beneath them.
Where once the Crystal Palace stood, the Mirror of Eternal Shadow now floated. It was supported on mist-like wings the color of night. Darkness swelled along its edge, and from that portal swarmed the demonkin armies. Even though it was just an image, the sight filled Wataru with unspeakable dread. He found his eyes glued to it, even as he stepped backward.
Demon’s Bane in her hand, the Goddess stepped forward, sweeping back the hem of her white dress. She thrust an arm straight before her, holding the blade directly above the image of the mirror. “Traveler Wataru. Here is your answer, from the Tower of Destiny given to the land below.” The point of the blade lowered, and the Goddess quietly released her grasp on the hilt. The sword began to fall, falling through the dais, into Vision, toward the Mirror of Eternal Shadow.
Down in Vision, everyone turned their eyes toward the sky.
A single beam of light came down from the heavens. It was the sword of light and it split the sky in two.
Then the piercing light sank into the Mirror of Eternal Shadow.
The great dark wings supporting the mirror flapped twice as if they were desperately clawing at the sky. After that, they began to fade. Without their support, the mirror tilted to its side. And just when it seemed as though the darkness brimming in the mirror might spill out, a bolt of lightning cracked the mirror to pieces.
The residents of Solebria witnessed the Mirror of Eternal Shadow splinter. First into two, then four, then eight, each crack spawning new fissures of its own, until it had broken into a thousand pieces.
The mirror now destroyed, the demonkin hordes were pulled back into the Dark from whence they came—their bodies reduced to black ash falling from the sky.
Everyone saw the source of their terror disappear in the blink of an eye. And before they could react in any way, the dusty remains quickly vanished.
People turned to each other.
They’re gone. They’ve left. The demonkin are no more.
It wasn’t long before the cheering began.
Just at that moment in Gasara, Kee Keema was standing on the roof of the branch office swinging his axe. One foul demonkin clawed at his head, another went for his throat, and a third clung to his back. The waterkin thrashed, trying to throw his assailants off, while Meena joined the fray, wielding a frying pan she had taken from the lodge kitchen.
“Off him! Fiend! Hang in there, Kee Keema!”
“Won’t these guys ever give up?” he roared. He was covered with wounds, but still fought on, snapping at a demonkin’s claws with his bared teeth. “You won’t take me down that easy!”
Kee Keema threw a demonkin aside, and Meena smacked it on the head with her frying pan.
And it disappeared.
They all disappeared. The countless demonkin swarming in the skies over Gasara faded away. Kee Keema and Meena stood, covered in black ash, dumbfounded.
“What was that?”
Kee Keema turned, spitting out a black clod of soot that had been a demonkin claw.
Their eyes met, and both of them looked up. Then they looked higher, toward the tower they knew stood there in the vault of the sky.
“It’s Wataru.”
By the gates of the town of Gasara, the Knights of Stengel fought for all they were worth. There were elderly and children to protect, and many more demonkin to kill. The gates must be defended to the death.
Looking to the left, a Knight could be seen throwing down his sword and picking up a flaming torch in its stead. To the right, a Knight lay prone, his life slowly ebbing from his body. Everywhere discarded greaves and helms were scattered on the ground.
“Don’t give them an inch! Push them back!” the captain yelled to his men. None among them were unscathed. The demonkin were strong and not easily felled. One after another the Knights were crushed by the black wings of death.
“Captain, look out!”
After cutting down several of the demonkin, Captain Ronmel had lifted a hand to wipe the streaming sweat from his eyes, and in that moment, a demonkin had launched at him. Caught off-guard, the captain stumbled. One of his Knights charged, but he was caught by a dive-bombing demonkin and tossed aside. The demonkin rattled its claws in victory.
“Captain!”
One of the Knights crawled out of the barricade and took off his helmet. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Everywhere around him black dust was falling.
What is this?
The demonkin horde had disappeared. All of Gasara hung thick with black soot, as though everyone in town had decided to clean their chimneys at the exact same moment.
But it wasn’t soot. It was the remains of the demonkin.
The men stood slack, unable to understand their sudden victory. The Knight who was tossed aside by a demonkin attack was back on his feet. “Captain, Captain!”
Ronmel was nowhere to be seen. All of the remaining Knights were covered in black. Not even the silver of their armor could shine through that dark falling mist. They gaped at the sky, waving their hands to brush aside the swirling particles where their enemy had been. Beneath a layer of grime, the hard expressions on their battle-weary faces softened into smiles.
Is it over?
It’s over.
As suddenly as it began.
Someone began singing a prayer to the Goddess. Everyone joined in.
And Captain Ronmel was nowhere to be seen.
The Knight was sure of what he had seen: a demonkin, its fangs buried into the captain’s neck, fangs stained red by a spray of blood. But now the demonkin were gone. All around him, the Knights were breathing sighs of relief, and cheering. It was the sound of victory.
The demonkin were gone. But so was their captain.