Daevarro then shook his head, confirming the archer's hunch. "I'm..." he spoke, his voice hiding under a shroud. "...the only survivor."
A foul wind blew passed the two just as Daevarro uttered that truth, this horrific revelation. Elena stood completely paralyzed by this information, her mouth hanging low and her eyes the size of an orange. Her nervous, shaking breath appeared so vividly in the frigid air. Her heart sank slowly into her stomach, shocked to her very core by this knowledge.
Her face then changed shape, becoming a grief-stricken mask. Her mind then swirled with thoughts, how could they obtain the location or even the existence of the Governanti Resistance? Were they not too careful? No, Fionnlagh was an extremely cautious person. Was there a spy? No, Fionnlagh probably could've easily snuffed them out.
Then, the pieces fell into place. Elena recalled a very particular moment between her and her brother, whom at the time did not believe her to be his sister. She clenched her forehead, her hand placed in the exact place where she remembered the warmth of Balor's hand grasping with such an extreme tightness.
At that moment, her face once again changed. It looked incredibly guilty, so very lamentful. There was no way that Daevarro was lying, she realized. Her eyelids hung down, her head hanging up but not too high. "I'm sorry that you had to go through all of that, Daevarro." she apologized with a voice in dismay, her hand fell down back to her side. She then turned to the gates into the castle. "Come, let us go see Master Raphael."
With a nod of his head, Daevarro followed just behind the heavyhearted archer. They went through the stone-brink gates, spears of glares being hurled into their backs. But their minds were adrift, flowing down two rivers that led to the same end. What this end was remained to be seen, but the two did not bat an eye to those who surely were not afraid to bat an eye to them.
They stepped into the courtyard, they stood before a castle that had seen better days. Its stones decrepit and buckled in several places. But this was the place that the Resistance called home, one of the very last places in Gielinor to maintain freedom. They walked down a broken cobblestone path that led straight into the castle.
Between this path barely able to fit two people walking side-by-side, a small plain of grass. Some spots were faintly tainted with blood. There were fountains in the middle of these grassy plains, fountains of this once vibrant city that were destroyed, smashed to pieces. There were a few knights on standby, guarding the gates into the castle. Their heads held up, but their faces hung low.
They kept on looking forward, not even taking aim upon the person they don't know or the person they resent. Elena and Daevarro climbed up the stairs and entered the castle without a problem. The two stood inside the large entrance room, it was hollow and silent. Their echoing footsteps allowed for this room to finally regain life.
They stepped deeper into this castle, walking down hallways holding many empty rooms and purple banners. Daevarro then turned towards Elena. "What is Master Raphael like, anyway?" he asked, curious.
"Caring, respectful, emotional, and perhaps too kind for his own good." she described. They finally approached a double door at the end of a long hallway. The young man, Daevarro, stared upon the banners upon those double doors. It was a purple cloth banner with the symbol of a dragon's face upon it.
With her free hand, the archer lightly tapped against the wooden door. It was just enough to get someone's attention. "Come in," spoke the young leader's voice from within the room. Hearing the acknowledgement, Elena clenched the doorknob. She then turned to Daevarro. "Wait here," she quickly whispered. "I have to make sure Master Raphael is okay with your coming in."
Daevarro shook his head, understanding exactly what he was told. With a twist, she and the dark-robed young man are revealed to the single living being inside. The room was just as it was before. The wooden floor beneath, the rug bearing the Resistance's symbol, the bookcase complete with all of its teeth, the banners and those large windows.
That familiar desk at the back of the room, and the young leader behind it. His purple eyes scrolled tirelessly across trails of black ink, the ground a sheet of pale yellow. His eyes then glanced forward as he heard the door open. Elena entered the room, but Raphael was able to see the shady, dark-robed young man just behind her.
The archer closed the door behind her. That strange, drawing out feeling that gnawed at the archer vanished as soon as she closed the door. She stepped forward, drawing closer to the leader. "Raphael," she named.
Raphael then turned to Elena. "Who's outside the door?" he asked quickly.
Elena stood two feet from the desk, staring upon her leader. "His name is Daevarro," Elena replied, answering Raphael's question. "He says that he is a member of the Governanti Resistance, which I can confirm to be true."
"I see," returned Raphael, returning to his reading. "What does he want?"
"Well..." she explained, her voice growing more saddened by the minute. She sighed, letting go of her emotions. "He told me that the Governanti Resistance was attacked. And that he... was the only one to have survived."
This immediately stopped Raphael's progress, his heart dropping like a stone. His face followed just behind it, becoming agonized. Raphael slowly rose from his chair, wearing that look of disbelief and horror upon his face. His hands planted firmly against the desk, he stood there in silence.
The silver-haired young man's teeth grasped tightly against each other, a fury shaking the young leader down to his core. He clenched his right hand into a first and lifted it up about head-height. "
Dammit!
" he shouted, slamming his right hand against the table. He became silent once more, trying so desperately to absorb the situation. "...Bring him in."
Elena then leaned forward, bowing to the young leader. "Right away," she responded, then turning towards the door. She then walked rapidly in that direction. Outside the room, Daevarro had his ear against the door to hear exactly what was going on. He heard what had been going on, quickly yanking his ear from that place.
Elena opened the door, revealing the room once more to the young man. She stood there, her hand upon the doorknob. Once more, that strange, drawing feeling hooked the archer deeply. "...Come in," she told him. He stepped inside, walking over to the front of the desk. Elena closed the door behind the dark-robed young man and followed just behind him. Daevarro stood before Raphael, wearing this somewhat taut look upon his face.
Raphael looked up at the dark-robed young man, and almost immediately got a wave of suspicion. Daevarro bowed, giving a show of respect to Raphael. As he nervously gulps, he prepared to speak. "My name is Daevarro," he introduced himself with a shaky voice.
Raphael stood up straight, his purple eyes digging into Daevarro. "Explain what happened," commanded Raphael in an almost demanding tone.
Elena noticed right away a sudden change in Raphael. She realized that indeed this was a grave situation, but there was something off about him. Daevarro quickly pulled himself back up, his hazel eyes staring upon Raphael's face. The young man then knew he had to painfully recall the events which led to his coming.
He was able to visualize them so very clearly, as if it just happened. The flames, the panic, the smell of death... it was a perfectly painted scenery in his mind. "...I was alone out in the ruins of the old city of Varrock when Anabel found me." he explained, the playback of those memories pouring into his skull. "She told me that we had a mission: deliver this message to Master Raphael."
Daevarro held up the envelope, the seal of the purple dragon locking its paper lips. Raphael reached his right hand towards the letter, taking it from Daevarro's hand. His purple eyes examined the letter. He saw that the envelope was a bit dirty and tattered, like it had been through a lot. Raphael then opened up the letter, revealing its context to the young leader. "Go on," said Raphael as he read the letter to himself.
"We were talking until I noticed smoke engulfing the sky," Daevarro continued. "Anabel confirmed that the smoke was coming from the direction of the headquarters. We rushed off, and once we got there... we confirmed that it was the headquarters that was on fire. We went inside the burning building to find a number of bodies on the ground. We found Master Fionnlagh in his room, bound by Imperial Knights along with Balor. I tried attacking Balor... and failed. Master Fionnlagh ordered us to flee, and as much as we didn't wish to, we had to. We ran off into the cellar, where there was a trapdoor leading to a hidden pathway. Anabel insisted on her staying and me going by myself, but I... I refused. She then pushed me down the door and sealed it with some kind of magic. I found myself travelling through the long, dark path. At its end, I climbed up a ladder which led to a tavern in the market district."
"I see," said Raphael, placing the letter down upon the desk. He relocated the hazel eyes of the young man before him. "There's no doubt that the entire city was looking for you. How did you manage to escape?"
"I acquired the assistance of a man named Calvin," stated the dark-robed young man.
"Calvin?" spoke Elena with surprise, turning her eyes to Raphael. He proceeded to gaze at her as well, they appeared both with question.
Daevarro looked back and forth between the two, realizing that they seemed to recognize the name. "...Have you two met Calvin?" he asked curiously.
"We've had some run-ins in the past," quickly replied Elena, turning back to Daevarro. "So, Calvin aided your escape. Well, you couldn't have found a better person for the job."
"The question is, why?" returned Raphael, throwing a very important question onto the table. "Why would he help you?"
Elena shook her head, concurring with Raphael's question. "Yes, it is a bit of a mystery." she responded. "He's an assassin for hire, a person that's sold to the highest bidder. What would he gain by helping you escape?"
Daevarro's eyes wandered away once the two began to question the assassin's intent. He knew, but at the same time, didn't. It was all connected to this 'fellow brother' gesture Calvin made. What did he mean? Daevarro didn't recognize his face, so there's no way he could've been apart of his family. The answer was that one snowflake scattered among the thousands upon thousands of others in his mind, one he simply could not hope to find on his own.
"...Master Raphael," named the dark-robed young man, breaking the thought-filled silence. The young leader's purple eyes then glanced over at him. "With your permission, I'd like to join the Lumbridge Resistance."
"I'm afraid not," the silver-haired young man callously responded, shooting him down. Raphael then sat back down in his chair, focusing upon that paper once more. "Now, if you'd please excuse me, I'm very busy."
"Raphael..." spoke the archer, her tone somewhat angered. She then looked to Daevarro, who seemed to be quite disappointed. His head hung low, his eyes scattered from the main place. She then moved a step closer to Daevarro. "Hey, don't worry about it," she mumbled quietly to him. "Go on and get used to the place, I'll catch up with you in a minute."
"All right," he responded. "Erm, what exactly are you going to do?"
"Get him to reconsider," the young man then shook his head, acknowledging the archer's determination. He then spun towards the door, making his way there. Before its wooden face, the young man reached out and grabbed onto its right hand. With a twist, he opened up the room's visage. And with a quick breeze, the young man came and went.
Elena then turned to Raphael after she saw Daevarro leave to the outside. She then felt that really unusual feeling once again just suddenly leave her once Daevarro left her presence. "...Raphael," she once again named. "I told you he was a confirmed member of the Governanti Resistance, so why deny him?"
"Because he's just a kid," the young leader answered.
"He doesn't look much younger than you when you first joined the Resistance." she firmly believed. "Are you sure there isn't something more to it?"
"More to what?" questioned Raphael, pausing in his reading and quickly looking up at Elena. "I'm just looking out for my people, that's it."
"I'm going to be blunt, Raphael," she said, remembering the reactions Raphael showed to Daevarro at every turn. "Is there something about Daevarro that bothers you?"
"Well, to be frank, yes," he earnestly answered. "Don't you find it... a little curious how the Governanti Resistance gets discovered at almost the exact same time he joins up with them? They didn't have a problem at all up until now."
"It's a complete coincidence,"
Raphael shook his head. "I don't believe in coincidences," he returned.
"It's final," he stated, his voice as gelid as the air outside. His eyes then faced down upon the paper once more. "Now, if you'd excuse—"
Elena shook her head, sighing. She wandered to the memories of what she had experienced that day: her last visit to the capital. "It's not his fault," she denied quickly. "it's mine."
Raphael gave the archer a raised eyebrow, his face changing to fit a particular expression. His interest piqued, giving Elena his eyes. "What do you mean?" Raphael asked with intrigue.
"It's something he uses very rarely," she explained, telling him something he couldn't quite fathom. Her voice steadily lowered, her face becoming burdened with regret and remorse. "In fact, I thought it something he wouldn't dare go to. How foolish of me to underestimate him like that..."
"Elena," the young leader named. "what are you talking about?"
"Balor has the ability to copy the knowledge, skills, even memories of any individual he chooses." she answered the silver-haired young man, feeding him information he did not realize. "Just after Balor stabbed me, he copied my memories. He must have found the location of the Governanti Resistance from my memories."
"And when were you going to tell us that he had such a power?" Raphael questioned, his voice angered. Raphael bolted up from out of his chair, his eyes a glare. "...What else are you hiding!?"
"I've told you everything now," Elena replied, her voice spiraling downwards. Her face truly did reflect exactly how she felt: completely and utterly regretful and sorrowful. "I... I'm sorry, Raphael."
Raphael sighed, letting go of his anger. He took a step to his left, pushing away from his desk. "I'm sorry, Elena," the young, silver-haired leader apologized. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm... just so tired of people dying."
"You will do no such thing," he returned. "This isn't your fault, all right? As leader, it is my responsibility to burden all that happens to my people. If they need someone to blame, let it be me."
Elena very swiftly shook her head. "No!" she quickly responded. "I'm at fault here, so let me take the responsibility of my own actions. Please..."
Raphael was able to see the look of demand in her eyes. Indeed, she truly did wish to take the fall instead of him. Though, people wouldn't be incorrect to blame this archer, Raphael knew in his heart that he would deny it until the end. "Okay," he quietly, sorrowfully concurred.
Elena then looked back at the door, her eyes lowered just like her face. "Daevarro is very strong to have endured such a tragedy," she mumbled after a moment of dead sound. "This war truly is a horrible, sad thing."
Raphael's face then gazed down upon the desk. His hands clenched together tightly, his mind taking flight upon the wings of the past. With the winds of time at his back, he flew across the sky of his own mind. The memories of the Governanti Resistance in its entirety whipping at him like ferocious gales, bringing in a warm but bone-chilling air.
All their faces, their smiles and their kindness that embraced him... it was all just a memory now.
"I swear," said Raphael, his voice tense and shaking. "I'm not going to let anyone else die. We're all going to make it through this alive, to see this new world with our own two eyes. I don't care what it takes, I'm going to make sure of it."
Elena shook her head. "I'll help you in any way I can," she pledged. "I'll give my life if I must."
"Daevarro can help us too," believed Raphael, revealing his change of heart and getting over his suspicion. "He deserves a place here."
The archer smiled. "I think so too," The situation at the Resistance had lightened up. Indeed, the arms of acceptance had slowly begun to embrace all those within this room. As that place became steadily more lukewarm, a world away was completely different. A young boy stepped into the unknown, unable to determine exactly what was to happen to him.
Young Uriel found himself in a dark hallway, but every now and again this shadowy hallway would become illuminated. The floor was of hexagon-shaped tiles, there was an extremely small gap between each tile that appeared glowing with a greenish-blue light. They were surrounded by crystallized walls, a faint blue light emitted from these walls.
With each step the two made, a pulse of teal blue energy would surge all throughout the floor. This air that this hallway carried, it felt... ancient; old, aging. A strange, thick charge of energy kept the air from dying, but truly there was a presence to be felt just by the air alone. The boy with the arm cloak was able to feel it deep below into his bones, this strange sensation.
This long, seemingly unending tunnel before him. He was able to see a footprint of where Soter's steps within this strange metal-like floor, that was followed by the circular explosion of energy that rushed all across the floor. Like rain hitting a puddle, their footsteps would appear upon this floor. With each step upon this heavy, metallic floor, a thud that would hang around for days.
Soter kept his usual stolid face, walking down this hallway as if its appearance was something he's seen one too many times. The boy couldn't help himself to just keep staring at the ground, he was fascinated and amazed by just the look of the floor alone. The sight was truly surreal, the boy couldn't even begin to imagine such a place even in his wildest, most deepest dream.
