"Sturm, wait!"

He didn't want him to move on, not until he knew what he was here to do. Not until he was convinced he truly wanted to save the world. And though he wasn't as vocal as Icsorue, he too wished to be convinced that the former superior was still one of the "good guys."

However, instead of racing after him like he wanted to (and like Icsorue actually did), he was momentarily torn between that and staying to look after the other enigmas.

It was because of this that he noticed the fluttering of paper--something Sturm dropped. Was it an accident? Had he simply not needed it anymore and discarded it? Or could he have even deliberately left it for him to see?

He rushed to grab the piece of paper, turning briefly to the horned man--Sanguine--and saying, "I trust you will obey your master's orders." Not quite the same monotone as his usual; there was an edge that crept in, one that hinted at the bad things that could happen if he didn't.

And then as fast as his weary legs could carry him, he raced after Sturm and Icsorue, simultaneously holding the paper in front of him so he could read it.

"Nhhh, damnit! Let me go, already!" shouted the green enigma.

"C'mon! I need to know--I need to know what happened to Emitt!!" cried the beige enigma.

They had watched it all, partially in awe, partially in confusion. Nothing was making sense anymore. They watched a man they thought their enemy claim to be "saving the world," and then have his subordinate tear through the entrance so he could rush in with seemingly murderous intent--and a lot of them didn't know what to think, but still, some were wholly unconvinced. The beige enigma, especially, wished to know what happened to Emitt--the former brown enigma, and a man she respected above all others. He was the kindest, most gentle of all operatives--and yet, he boasted the greatest physical strength, until his death.

"I will," Sanguine growled, "But I'll still kill you if you get in his way . . ."

On the paper, as soon as Eilert unfolded and reduced it from its crumpled state, there was senselessness--and only one form of it. A symbol, very much like Eilert's own glyphs, but different. It was extremely bold and made with a dark red color--red and brown, resembling dried blood, but to Eilert's eyes, it glowed that same color. The paper was old, though, just like the symbol. Sturm must have had it for a lengthy time before discarding it.

Down the hall and to the right--the dark, dismal hall. Every torch was blown out, every inch of the hall in darkness. Rubble littered the floor and tripping was almost inevitable, and it seemed to go on forever. In the dark, the halls of the Sky Temple seemed gargantuan compared to their lit counterparts. But there was a light at the end of the tunnel--at the end of the hall. All Eilert had to do was turn right at the first crossroad and continue until he spotted light out of his peripheral vision; he'd have passed numerous hallways and doors by then, but there was eventually illumination that could be found in his peripheral, down a leftward hall, while progressing forward, or to the right, was still a distinct possibility.

Voices certainly helped, too.

Sturm stood before the iron door, a vial of liquid held in hand--its contents a yellow color that produced light like a torch. The stone halls lead straight to the cast iron door, but that was a new addition. It had never been there before, and judging by the decor, this was the hall that lead to Selena's library, and from there, her personal quarters. Eilert had seen inside of it once before in his entire life. Selena, the Guardian--their Superior who was tragically murdered months ago, leaving the organization in irreparable shambles.

Icsorue stood before Sturm, her arms spread out on either side of her, blocking Sturm from the newly placed door. A latch upon the door had a solid lock upon it, and even if Icsorue was letting him through, Sturm would have a tough time opening the door anyways. The lock had no key, and the polished iron over the latch extended across the door into a medium sized circle.

"Doctor Tyr, STOP!!" Icsorue screamed at the top of her lungs, "oI'm not letting you through--ya hear me?! oI'm not letting you through 'til ya answer me!"

"Icsorue . . ." Sturm shook his head quickly, "There's no time . . . I. Can. Explain. Later."

Sanguine's threat fell on deaf ears--Eilert was already preoccupied with the paper, and as far as he was concerned it was an empty threat. If it hadn't been for Sturm's intervention, he would have been sent back to his world of origin, defeated.

Unfortunately, the paper didn't make much sense to him. It appeared to be a glyph, but not one he recognized. It was also written in blood, which wasn't terribly shocking--that was the oldest way of creating glyphs, something Eilert had researched into extensively to find an alternate way.

But whose blood? He doubted it was Sturm's--they had talked enough that he would know of better alternatives to drawing a glyph in blood.

He didn't have much time to dwell on it, because it was too dark and messy in the temple for him to focus on it. It took all his attention to catch up to the Pink and ex-Purple Enigmas.

"Actually, there is time," he interrupted from behind Sturm. "Whatever Silver is doing, he apparently needs me there for it. As you probably guessed, it was he who contacted me."

He paused to mull over something in his head before drawing a conclusion. "That's who you want to kill, isn't it? Silver is the only person left in the temple, besides us now."

A few things were beginning to fit together in his head, but he was missing a piece of the puzzle. Or rather, the piece was in his hand, he just didn't know what it meant yet.

"This glyph," he intoned, holding up the small paper Sturm dropped, "what does it do?"

Upon seeing Eilert approaching from behind Sturm, Icsorue stood up on her toes, glancing around Sturm to see if it really was him. She felt a little bad for what she said earlier, when she doubted Eilert for Sturm--but she couldn't help what she wanted to feel. If she could someway convince herself that Sturm wasn't their enemy, she would, even if Eilert didn't agree. Icsorue would also feel a bit bad about it, guilty for shunning a constant in her life.

"Eilert . . ." She whispered.

Sturm was quite for a moment. Eilert asked both of his questions, and neither was provided an answer--not at first, at least. He was silent for several moments, mulling over possible responses, considering and reconsidering, but all and all thinking of one thing: time. How much time would it cost him to explain?

But he finally gave them an answer: "Silver is the only one who needs to die today."







"Ya . . . ya can't be serious," Icsorue shook her head, "He's just another loike us! He's troyin' to save the world, too--just loike all of us . . ."

It was an outburst that Sturm tried to ignore. He cared much for Icsorue, but . . . "And to do that, I need through that door. I don't expect you to believe anything I say. Silver has imprinted it on you to doubt. If you truly want answers . . . open the door, and hear it from Silver himself. Then, perhaps, you'll understand our reality."

Sturm didn't have to say much at all to convince Icsorue of a damn thing; he could suggest something, and even if she obviously had reservations about it without any strong answers, she was going to go with it. She'd let him open the door, but first, she'd try to do it herself. Icsorue tried to grab at the latch, but the solid sheet of metal over it, stuck on as if it could move, did not allow this. She then tried to push the lock over, assuming that if she moved it, as it seemed to be on some sort of sliding device, but it didn't budge. Then, she stopped moving altogether, trying to manipulate the metal itself . . .

The door itself was natural, but seemed impossible to move, let alone pass through. Even Icsorue couldn't budge it. Something within the lock, however, was far from natural--keeping uses minimal, keeping its existence awkward, and ensuring that it would not budge. Something as unnatural as the swarms of darkness Eilert and the other enigmas had fought so diligently.

"Open the door? oI can't even budge it," Icsorue sighed.

"Silver must have bet on Eilert. It seems he's the only one who knows how to get through," remarked the former purple enigma, who had since noticed just the same as Eilert would have.

"Wot . . .? Eilert, ya know how to open this?"

A wave of uneasiness washed over the Orange Enigma; not that being uneasy in this situation was so unusual, but this was something separate...as though there was something vital he was forgetting.

He looked at Sturm in surprise at his comment. "Me?" He shook his head; that must have been a mistake. "I do not know how to open the door."

His uneasiness grew, but now from a very tangible source--he had a decision to make. Did he trust in Sturm, the man who he knew best in the organization, but who had betrayed it? Or did he trust in Silver, the only remaining superior?

More and more, it was seeming like the fate of the world rested on who he sided with. Though that was perhaps a bit arrogant; it was entirely possible things would play out the same no matter who he sided with.

"I'll look at the door, however...if I am to trust you, you need to trust me." He approached Sturm, stopping just in front of him. "Allow me to put a glyph on your neck. If you're telling the truth, then I'll dispel it when this is all over. And if you aren't..."

He paused, looking from Sturm to Icsorue and back again. "...I'll kill you." The words were thick in his mouth, distasteful. Even he couldn't hide his desire to avoid that outcome, but nevertheless he had to. For fate seemed to dictate that he play a role in the potential end of the world, and for the sake of the others it was not something he could ignore.

For the first time in many years, he needed to think for himself, not just follow orders.

"Y-you'll . . . you'll what?" Icsorue snapped quickly, "N-no--no, you won't! Ya wouldn't! He's . . . Dr. Tyr is--he's your friend, roight?! Ya . . . ya were always talkin' about science and stuff loike that--that means ya were friends, roight? Ya . . . ya can't kill him 'cause he's your friend, roight Eilert?"

"Icsorue," Sturm stated loud enough to get her attention.

The young woman stopped prompted by Sturm's near shouting of her name. She trailed her eyes to the floor, half-closed, feeling like she was making things worse--harder on everyone than it had to be. Whether or not that was true, she couldn't truly prove that either way, but she sauntered back, standing with her back against the wall, head hung low, and eyes to the floor. She couldn't help in opening the door, either, and though Sturm suggested that Eilert knew how, it looked like he didn't know, either. Sturm seemed so sure that Silver was behind this door, too. Icsorue just didn't know what to think.

Nonetheless, Eilert's idea was a fair one, and though Sturm didn't necessarily want to risk getting his head blown off of his shoulders, he trusted Eilert, and he hoped that Eilert would trust him. If anything, accepting this would get the orange enigma to accept Sturm's words more readily--though, it wasn't necessarily Sturm's personal words that he wished to be recognized. Nonetheless, if Sturm truly was a man to be trusted, he'd come out fine; Eilert wouldn't kill him. On his own will, he wouldn't go that far. If he--



--had a--



--will of--



--his own.



"Go on, then," Sturm replied as he tilted his head to the side, "Just . . . don't let Silver into your head."

There was an eerie feeling he just couldn't shake it. He didn't know what it meant, whether it was a warning or encouragement, or even if it was just his nerves. It was probably the latter; he was, after all, about to put a man's life into his hands.

Nodding mutely, he reached up and gently wrapped his hand around Sturm's neck. A brief orange glow was emitted, but faded rapidly, leaving no mark, no indication that he'd done anything out of the ordinary.

"It's done," he intoned.

He turned to the door, his uneasiness increasing. The gesture would be for naught if he couldn't get the door open as Sturm thought he should be able to.

The first thing he tried was the handle, which may have been a bit rude given that Icsorue tried it, but he wasn't going to get more complex without trying the simplest things first.

Assuming that didn't work, he'd start inspecting the door for glyphs--if opening this door was something only he could do, then it was probably related to the one talent that set him apart from others.

Sturm felt like he should be wincing, though it was entirely painless. Perhaps it was sleep deprivation that tricked his mind. Icsorue, too, figured it would be painful--and even when Sturm didn't wince, she couldn't bear to look. It was like watching someone put a knife to his throat. If she had watched, she'd have probably wanted to pound Eilert into the floor--and then feel terrible about it, because she had harmed Eilert. That would've been terrible. She'd have felt terrible, and would have wound up doing exactly as she hoped she wouldn't: doing far more harm than good.

"D-did it hurt . . .?" Icsorue couldn't help but ask.

Sturm only shook his head.

When Eilert tried to pull the door open, it didn't work. It was just the same as when Icsorue tried--it just didn't budge. Once he tried it, though, he'd find it to be even more sturdy than it looked; it felt it like was solid metal through and through, and was implanted into the hallway as a door without any sign of botched craftsmanship.



There didn't appear to be any glyphs on the door. It was, for all intents and purposes, solid metal with a latch covered by another piece of solid metal on a sliding mechanism--one particular mechanism that wouldn't work due to the lock. The large strip of metal ran across the door and stopped at its center, where a large circle could be seen. Nothing about it seemed out of the ordinary, but the circular piece of metal, seemlessly part of the lock, was outlined on the inside, with the surface within the outline apparently indented.

Eilert remained silent through their talking--he felt terrible for doing something like that, but he couldn't take any chances, even if they both hated him for it.

He had enough to focus on anyway--namely, he had no idea how he was supposed to open the door. As best he could tell, there was something wrong with the locking mechanism (or conversely, it was working perfectly) but he had no idea what.

Running a hand along the metal strip that ran across the door, he paused at the circular spot where it was indented, spreading his hand there to see how it fit. That outer metal strip covering the locking mechanism...he could possibly blast it open with a glyph, but he couldn't be certain that it would, and even if it did he might damage the mechanism in the process.

Mulling over what to do, he made a frustrated noise. Why did Sturm think he was capable of opening this? He didn't have any more clue what to do than they did. He might be able to blast through it with glyphs given enough time, but Icsorue could probably break through much quicker.

Icsorue shifted her gaze to Eilert, watching him go over the door repeatedly. She had to wonder if they were wasting time here, and she was wishing she could have just blasted the door open like she had wanted to. Unfortunately, things rarely ever went the way she wanted. It was sad, but true. If everything had progressed like she'd have preferred, Sturm would never have left.



And it was taking all the willpower she had to avoid asking him why. That was a key question in her mind. She wanted to know why Sturm betrayed them, but she also knew that he didn't want to talk about it--and it had been so long since she had seen him that she didn't want to make him angry with her.

Likewise, it was taking all the willpower she had to avoid hugging him. These past six months had been lonesome ones; the only people she had were Silver, Gold, and a few of the other, older operatives--none of which she had much in common with, or treated her in the same way that Sturm did. She respected her superiors and idolized Gold, and was thus extremely affected by the loss of her, but had Sturm been around, she'd have at least had a shoulder to cry on.



"Dr. Tyr . . .?" Icsorue gulped. She had to talk to him. Nothing could keep her from doing that. Talking about anything would work--the weather, jobs, past missions, politics around the world, any sort of small talk, anything! "How . . . have ya been? In the last six months."

Sturm didn't really want to answer that, truthfully. He figured that conversation would waste time, but he had until Eilert figured out how to unlock the door. Not that Sturm knew how, though; he had just made a simple assumption: since Silver wanted Eilert to come see him, the only person who should be able to open the door would be Eilert. Though he didn't want to admit it, Sturm wanted to talk to Icsorue, too--Icsorue and Eilert both.



"Working . . . and sleepless," replied Sturm.

"Sleepless? When's . . . when's the last toime ya've slept? Ya look loike you're ready to just fall roight off dreamin' at any toime," Icsorue sounded both angry at him for ignoring something important like sleep, and concerned.

Sturm took a moment to respond. If anything, the very fact that he had to calculate the length of time he'd gone since he slept last was proof enough that it had been too long, and that his brain was not functioning nearly as well as it should have. Sturm was a brilliant man, a graduate of biology and herbal medicine, and a trained doctor in medicine with at least novice experiences in most fields, with nothing keeping him from advancing to a new field. He was a genius, in all respects, and counting had become difficult.

"Since the day I left."

The circular part of the mechanism resembled something, though--something familiar. There were no glyphs on the door itself, but there was something about it that resembled the illustrations in textbooks--but blank. An empty illustration, easily fixed either through the placement of something of a similar size in the indent, or a filling of it in some way. It was set up as such, at least. There was no keyhole; the closest thing to it was that.

It was so strange hearing them talk, as though he'd simply taken a leave of absence, or quit a job. Not as though he'd betrayed them and killed four of their comrades.

Part of him was annoyed at Icsorue especially...just like her, he wanted Tyrian to be innocent, but she wanted it so desperately she was willing to overlook any hint otherwise.

She would be blindly loyal to him. That thought more than any other bothered him for multiple reasons.

The lock itself was odd--it wasn't that it didn't open, it was that there didn't seem to be any way to open it at all. There was nothing to turn, no where to insert a key or anything similar, and place to enter a code of some kind. It looked vaguely like something should be in the center, but...

A glyph? At that thought, it suddenly dawned on him. Always wanting things to be more complicated...

The locking mechanism wasn't just unusual--it was out of this world. Literally. He placed his hand in the center of it, placing and subsequently activating a Glyph of Banishment.

It was indeed something only he could do...but it begged the question, why was it set up so only he could enter?

"S-six months?!" Icsorue shouted, understandably surprised.

Truth be told, she didn't think any human being could survive sleep deprivation after a few months, and didn't know anyone who had gone more than six days without at least a power nap. But alas, she didn't doubt that Sturm had gone six months without sleeping; he wasn't the type to blatantly lie. When he said something, it was usually the truth! Or, at least, that's how Icsorue felt about it. That was why she could bring herself to accept a lie from him, even if she knew she was being deceived.

"Dr. Tyr . . . ya can't . . . ya can't do that," Icsorue lamented as she shook her head quickly, "That can't be healthy for ya at all!"

"Some sacrifices are necessary," said Sturm with a shrug.



The teeth that held the lock in place must have been the source of the otherworldly power, for once Eilert inscribed the glyph of banishment within the indented circle, the temporary orange glow receded and the glyph itself seemingly absorbed into the metal, with a loud, deep click echoing throughout the corridor. And just like that, the metal sheath over the latch, set upon the sliding mechanism, once locked in place by otherworldly "teeth," came loose. It could be moved, slid to the side, and the latch revealed.

"I thought as much," remarked Sturm, ignoring the previous subject of his sleeplessness. It wasn't important, now. The door could be opened. "If he only asked for you, he'd set it up so only you could enter. It's odd, though . . . why does Silver require you specifically?"

Eilert watched with fascination as his glyph actually seemed to sink into the door and banish something inside, rather than on the surface. The door was specifically made (or modified) to react to glyphs, but how was that done? He'd never heard anything like it, and he found the discovery both exciting and frightening; the former because he was interested in anything related to glyphs, and the later because it meant that Silver (who presumably set it up) knew just as much about his powers as he did.

"...I do not know," he replied to Sturm, unsettled by that thought. He assumed Silver's big interest in him had been because his powers were particularly well suited for defending a location. But why did he need him now? He couldn't think of anything that he could to do to aid him.

Silver suspected Tyrian was leading the army...did he know all along that he was going to try to avoid harming us?

His uneasiness grew--both men claimed to be saving the world. Sturm believed that Silver needed to die in order for that to happen. How did Silver plan to save the world, then? All Eilert knew was that it involved whatever artifacts lay here in the temple.

"If he is inside, don't attack him." It was odd, to give orders to someone who had been his superior, but this situation warranted it. Until he had a clearer view of the situation, he wanted to keep things peaceful...ideally, they could find a peaceful solution, but that would mean Sturm changing his objective.

A peaceful solution . . . Sturm doubted the validity of such a possibility. Likewise, he had trouble accepting the commands of another. As a prime director for quite some time, he received only requests--which were passive aggressive orders, rather--from Selena, but that had been all. Dealing with a figure of authority wasn't a strong point of his, but it was something he had to deal with for the moment. Eilert quite literally had his life in his hands, after all.

There was a reason he had brought this pistol with him, though; too weak to fight, he had little option but to carry a firearm with him, and though it had only a single shot, his weapon was quite modified: whatever he shot was guaranteed to die, be it a blow to the head, legs, or arms. He could not trust himself to aim accurately, therefore it, a machination developed a good while back, and put aside due to a lack of necessity. How wrong he had been about that . . .

"I intend to kill him," Sturm stated gruffly, "Whether it is before or after you understand the truth--there is no other way."



". . . Dr. Tyr . . ." Icsorue lamented under her breath with a sigh.

She, like Eilert, hoped to find a peaceful solution. Silver, Eilert, and Sturm were all constants in her life--all people she wanted to keep around, and though she was most hard pressed to allow anything to happen to Sturm or Eilert, she was still unwilling to accept the idea of someone killing Silver--just like she had been with Gold, whose death made her feel ultimately more devastated than someone such as Silver's ever would. Nonetheless, if there was a peaceful solution, she was going to try for it, too. Unfortunately, if that meant physically harming Sturm, she'd be hard pressed to bank on her own wishes.

All before them became a narrow corridor, wide enough for only two to walk side-by-side at a time. Though it was tempting to try and stick by Sturm, Icsorue opted to keep behind them--Eilert and Sturm side by side, both seemingly focused on what lay before them. And there she was, looking from former prime director to operative, wondering what was going through their heads at that point--not what was in their immediate future. It was that realization that made her heart feel even heavier.

The hall began to widen, allowing Icsorue to skip forward just a bit--she could walk by Sturm that way.

It was strange, though. Sturm may have been the first to notice, but the corridor felt like it progressed into forever--like it had no end, and the longer they walked, the more decrepit it appeared. The walls, decorated as per Selena's preferences, became scant, cracked, broken, and eventually rotten. Icsorue hadn't needed much more than a light touch upon one single stone to cause it to crack and break apart, falling to the floor, startling the woman, and letting loose a torrent of dirt that lasted only a series of second. She backed up from this after the fact and walked ahead quickly, catching up with her companions once again.



And then, they reached steel. About them, wood and stone ceased to appear; they had come to a point where the floor was steel, drilled hard into the ground, and the ceiling and walls, all sheets of metal held together by screws and drill bits, some the size of a human head, some quite larger. It wasn't much longer before the hall came to an abrupt stop--the light at the end of the tunnel. The torch lit, circular room, once comprising books, towering stories above, but now entirely devoid of decor or paper of any sort; it was empty, with only a tall set of double doors at the far end, and a hooded figure standing before them, facing them.

It was Sturm who first spoke, gruffly growling out the single name: "Silver."



The hooded figure turned, his hood shifting to better cover his face, his hands--a light blue color--still exposed. Sturm was quick to step forward, ahead of Eilert and Icsorue both, flintlock drawn, held tight in both hands, one aiming, one steadying.

"What do you think you're doing, Eilert?" Silver's voice cracked, "You brought the enemy straight into the End . . ."

Eilert took the long walk down the corridor in silence. Uneasiness, tension, frustration, even some anger...all these feelings and more boiled inside of him, feelings that for a long time remained repressed in him.

Sturm seemed certain that the only way to save the world was to kill Silver...in reality, both men claimed to be saving the world while accusing the other of wanting to bring about its destruction. How was he to know who was right? Or were they both wrong?

The former superior's behavior worried him for another reason--though he'd placed a glyph on his neck, and thus could kill him (or more accurately mortally wound him) at any time, Tyrian Sturm dedicated himself enough to his task that somehow he'd managed to go over half a year without sleeping. It was entirely possible he'd kill Silver anyway, even knowing that he'd end his life for it. Presumably the gun was for that purpose, but he couldn't help but wonder what abilities the former Purple Enigma might have.

They have the same goal. I refuse to believe we can't reconcile the situation peacefully.

Traveling down the hall was akin to traveling through time, the corridor growing steadily more decrepit the further they went. When a rock crumbled from a single touch of Icsorue's, Eilert realized that it might not even be safe--if the structure was that weak, it could collapse without much prodding.

As he walked, he examined the walls, placing his hands on them to judge just how fragile the place really was...as well as to make preparations which hopefully he wouldn't need to use.

Upon entering the room, Sturm walked out ahead of them, but Eilert quickly caught up, wrapping his hand around the barrel. Not to throw off his aim, though--rather, he only needed to grasp it briefly, so that the orange glow signifying a glyph was placed appeared.

"Sturm, put away your weapon or I will destroy it," Eilert ordered, the first words he'd spoken since they began their trek. Not only would that eliminate was seemed to be his only weapon, the eruption would likely injure his hand and arm as well.

He took another several steps forward, pulling in front of Sturm so he could address Silver's question. "I brought him here because I do not believe he needs to be an enemy. Whatever he may have done in the past, right now he is going out of his way to ensure none of our operatives are harmed, and to treat those who have already sustained injuries. He too wishes to save the world...I see no reason why we cannot work together."

It was unlikely to escape Silver that it was very unusual for the Orange Enigma to take such initiative. And indeed, doing so seemed to have a toll on him--he was sweaty and uncomfortable, too much exertion and too much pressure that he wasn't used to.

But he was determined not to let anyone die unnecessarily today--and as neither Silver nor Sturm had yet explained why this battle was taking place, he considered any deaths unnecessary at this point.