Sustaining The King's Life 82 Attack?

Living in the mountains meant two things: one, is to develop good instincts, and two, is to know how to survive arctic winters. Faustina learned them not in training, like those in the epic stories of heroes and sagas with protagonists training under masters how to sharpen their senses. Faustina found such stories engrossing, and she dwelt on their worlds—unaware she was also similar to the protagonists in some way.

Faustina grew up on a secluded mountain above Nebel, the village under the mountain which Eula deemed to be infamous. The mountain was a dangerous place to live in; its forest was ridden with bears and beasts of several sorts, its hedges were also bombarded with poisonous plants in the guise of delicious berries. The mountain, however, served as Faustina's safe haven for several years. She was a Heilen, after all—the isolation was a blessing.

She closed her eyes and listened to the ear-piercing silence. Soft breaths on his side, but there was nothing more. Faustina inhaled the air—it was trotted with filth and a faint scent of flammable gas. Something similar in what Eula was brewing sometimes.

"Methane," Ezekiel murmured. Faustina turned her head towards him. They were crouched together in the small corner, hiding and waiting.

"It's flammable." He whispers. "Better not to conjure fire."

Faustina nodded. She met his amethyst eyes. Purple gems gleaming in the darkness. She wondered why in the darkness she could still see his eyes. She looked back again—but this time she saw nothing but darkness.

"Ezekiel?"

A rustle.

Faustina retracted her head back and observed; there was something in the tunnel. Light was coming beyond it, as a shadow crept in the walls. Faustina readied herself to the proprietor of the looming shadow.

Amidst the darkness appeared an impossible person to appear—

"B-brother?"

Lucas was holding a staff; he was unscathed, with no wrinkle on his cloak. He had a lamp on his hand, on the other he held his staff which gleamed. Faustina stood up—only to be stopped shortly by Ezekiel, who was on her back.

"It's my brother," Faustina says. "He came to save us."

Ezekiel's purple eyes were fixated on Lucas, who was looking for them.

"Lamp," he whispers after a long silence.

"What?"

"Staves can be used as a source of light." Ezekiel mutters. "He did not need a lamp."

"He probably got it somewhere—"

Ezekiel shushes her. "This one's not Lucas Feuerlon. I can sense it,"

Faustina looked once more. It was definitely Lucas—he was out there now, looking for her—
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Looking for her?

"He isn't speaking…" Faustina whispers.

"It cannot imitate someone's voice without looking at you," Ezekiel retorts. "The essence isn't enough."

"Come out, Faustina!" Says Lucas softly. "We're going home. Faustina!"

"It spoke." Faustina says.

"It saw you." Ezekiel mumbled. The stone in his hand lit up, illuminating them with a purple light. He stood up whilst holding the stone, along with Faustina. He hid her behind his back instinctively, his eyes fixated on Lucas.

"Faustina," says Lucas. "Come with me."

Ezekiel waved the stone light, catching Lucas' attention.

"Witchlight," says Lucas. "Fascinating."

"Of course." Ezekiel says. "A marionette would be fascinated."

And then Lucas smiled. "Marionette?"

"You are a marionette. The witchlight will fascinate you—are you drawn to it?" With a graceful sway, Ezekiel waved the witchlight as Lucas followed through. Faustina shuddered with Lucas' focus on the witchlight, as if a bug drawn to the fire. Slowly Lucas walked towards the stone, his body fading into a puppet with a sewn sad face.

The marionette.

"OWEN!" Faustina calls, and Owen sprang out of nowhere. He held his sword firmly and then he slashed the Marionette's head.

Faustina blinked. The marionette isn't there anymore.

"Look out!" Owen screams, and then Faustina's eyes widened. The marionette had flung itself to her. Ezekiel retaliated with throwing the stone parallel to the Marionette, but in a split second they both realized the marionette wasn't drawn to the witchlight anymore.

Ezekiel pulled Faustina to his chest as he collapsed, making the marionette crash to the wall behind them. He pulled Faustina to her feet and they both ran towards Owen.

"Be careful," Ezekiel says. "It's strong. My witchlight no longer attracts it,"

"Witchlight? Where did you get such thing?" Owen whispered, and then observed Ezekiel's appearance. Appalled who this kid is, he noted to himself to question his ident.i.ty later. Right now he had to deal with the marionette. There are children he must protect.

The marionette stared at them blankly, letting out soft and sinister whimpers.

"This one is strong." Owen says.

"Are you part of the Brotherhood?" Ezekiel asks.

"How did ye—"

"The insignia," says Ezekiel plainly. "And your weapon."

Faustina stared intently to the marionette. It was crying. She blinked—she saw Eula—and then she blinked once again and saw otherwise. Her eyes were tricking her.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it, we need backup," Owen exclaims. He was injured—Faustina observed his bleeding arm. How could a puppet inflict so much injury to an armed person?

"Faustina . . ." The marionette murmurs. "Faustina… Fausti..na…."

Faustina felt a shudder climb to her spine.

The marionette launched itself forward towards them, and Owen was ready to slice it once more—but instead it backed away to the ceiling, tilting its head in a spiral movement.

"Faustina…" It murmured, crying with a haunting sound. "Come with me… he's waiting…"

"Do not listen to it." Ezekiel says. "Is it speaking to you?"

Faustina nodded.

"We cannot hear it. It must be your essence." Ezekiel exclaims. "Did someone tell you that the devil is with you?"

Faustina blinked.

"Yes."

Ezekiel paused briefly.

"It is attached to you," Ezekiel mumbles, "but it won't attack. Why is that?"