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She stared blankly at the plate of food before her, avoiding the god's eyes. Loki's stare--she could barely stand it; it chilled her, chilled her to her very core, as did his words. Such a cruel being...

A swish of fabric and suddenly all she could see was his steel-gray eyes and looking away to keep away the great, great feeling of dread away was all but impossible, not when his harsh nails were digging into her milk-white skin. She wanted to cry for help. Vika, oh Vika, why are you not here to help me...?

And suddenly, Mika was present, along with a green-haired boy that she had seen briefly last Halloween. This would be her only chance, her last chance. No one else was here. No one would be able to hear her; Mika was her last hope for salvation. The words formed on her lips and she struggled to give them form: Help...

"Help me," she murmured hoarsely.

Loki's smile widened as he raised one hand and pointed it at Synra. "Silence," he murmured, and he stole the voice from her throat just like that. "I'll have no more of your blasphemies, Synra." He walked toward her slowly, then turned to face Mika.

"I brought this young morph into this place, I have fed her and kept an eye on her, kept her safe from harm, and do you know what I discovered, Mika?" His eyes narrowed. "She loves one of those who killed your sister. Not to mention, of course, your grandmother. Her sympathies lie clearly with those villains, those... those murderers!" He crossed over to Mika, taking her gently by the shoulders and looking into her eyes. "You must not let her fool you, Mika. She is the enemy." His stormy gray eyes seemed to glow dimly in the darkness.

"She is the enemy, Mika. She must die. Tonight."

At Rei's interruption, he turned his head to regard the Druid with curiosity. "Ah. Yes, I see... You wish to see my power as well, little one? Very good. Yes, wonderful, because you are an important part of tonight's ceremony!" He smiled. "How fortuitous that Mika thought to bring you here." He raised his hand and pointed it at Rei for a moment. An unseen force swept up beneath the Druid, drawing him up into the air, and forced him to stand by the base of the terrible statue next to Synra, and then shoved him to his knees, binding him there.

Almost idly, Loki took the bag from the stunned Mika and made his way to each of the nine statues arranged in front of the large center statue. At each statue, he drew out a weapon and placed it in the statue's hands, threading the scarf Briseschal through one woman's fists and sliding a tome under another woman's arm.

He pointed suddenly to Synra, chanting horribly as she was lifted into the air by another unseen force. Each horrible syllable sent horrible pain shooting through the poor morph woman's body. He flicked his finger upward and a gash formed in Synra's chest as she writhed high above the ground, and a spatter of blood struck one of the statues. Again, he flicked his finger, and a new gash marked a second statue. Over and over, nine times this was repeated, and then nine times more to cover each statue again, and then nine times more...

At last he lowered his arm, and Synra's mangled body dropped thirty feet to the ground with a sickening crack. Loki smiled, taking a little bottle full of light off his belt, and opened it. Nine points of light scattered out and swept around the room, seeking the bodies to which they belonged, and one by one they struck the stone statues where the blood had smeared upon them.

Loki's eyes narrowed as he smiled an insidious smile, stepping through the puddle of blood around Synra's decimated corpse and right over her body, feeling her quintessence pour out of her body and into his. Ah... so good to have his full strength back. He smirked. "And now, for the finishing touch." He pointed now at the trembling Rei.

"Flesh to stone, stone to flesh. Reanimate that which hath been eternally suspended. Become once more as gods among mortal men! Resurrection by the blood and sacrifice!"

In his extremities first, Rei began to feel weight and immobilization, crawling up his body, his flesh becoming as stone as the-- statues...

The nine statues were turning from stone to flesh just as quickly as Rei was becoming stone.

"Awaken, ancient heroes of Learania," Loki murmured. "Awaken, my fallen foes. Awaken and do as I bid you..."

Rei gasped as the unseen force moved him to the base of the statue, letting out a grunt as he was shoved to his knees. He could do nothing but watch in horror as Synra was destroyed before his very eyes. The boy let out a small, primal yelp as Loki looked over at him, as if he were staring death in the face.

Quickly, things flashed before his eyes. The orphanage burning in Elibe, fighting alongisde Roy's army, they both seemed so far away. Quickly, his mind floated to thoughts of his friends in Learania.

The Crew, people he'd both fought alongside and helped time and again. The Host Club, people he'd grown to know and love moreso with each passing day. Alihi, the apple of his alter ego Zelos's eye. Ed, the quirky wolf girl, all of them came to mind, tears welling up in his eyes as the stone began creeping up his legs.

Amelia, the one who had fought constantly to save him during Easter, the one who'd always been there for himself and everyone else through all the issues. Rei hoped she'd be happy with Rhys, and the two would avenge the loss of their comrade, alongside everyone else.

And then... Nino. His mother, a figure he'd shoved from his mind for years, had returned to his life in the blink of an eye, during Christmas. Regret filled the child, since instead of living in the moment, savoring what life he had, he was throwing his childhood away into the books, for more power. Fat lotta good that did him. As the stone curse began to reach his neck, a faint whisper escaped his lips, tears flowing unrestricted from his eyes.

"...I'm sorry..."

The curse reached his mouth just as it closed, reaching his eyes as they closed, coming to terms with his fate. He'd become a statue, nothing but a tool in Loki's plans.

Darkness.

The statue in the middle, perhaps the most 'revered' of them all, was Dread Reaver Kyros. Legends said that he led the Heroes, though nobody really knows. The statue's hair was unkempt, falling down almost over the eyes. The expression was simply stoic, a calm, kind look in his eyes, and a slight smile on his face. The scar crossing his brow, however, showed a rough, conditioned look, fitting of a true Warrior.

He wore sturdy, ancient armor on his chest and arms, connected to his cape, which was ravaged, and his shoulder guards, spikes worn and dull. His pants were almost falling apart, the stone shades darker near what appeared to be gashes across the legs. As one would look down towards the feet, you would see sandals, going up his legs, worn by time and battle.

As the young girl had lost her power, fading into the wind, the boy had turned into naught but a statue, like the legends around him.

The stone began to chip away around the Warrior, slight cracking noises echoing through the hall. As they increased in frequency, a large, shattering crash shook the hall, the stone falling to the floor.

The man stood, hair even more unkempt, eyes hazy, panting. His armor had regained it's appearance, looking better than new. His cape and pants remained torn, though the wounds faded.

The man jumped down from his pedestal, shaking the ground with his landing. Without stopping, the man stretched himself in all manner of ways, sickening cracks reverberating through the room. As the man's body felt back up to snuff, he turned towards Loki, a near-feral glimmer in his eyes, a sadistic smile on his mouth.

He let out a bloodthirsty roar, looking down at small Mika, and back at Loki. "Dread Reaver Kyros, I've been called. Where's the food, I'm absolutely starving!" As he frantically looked around, it had not dawned on him that life had returned to his body, his mind overridden by thoughts of when food would grace his famished maw.

Arishoto kajah tilo loshecka iro go feh... Drajmahsta eptome an brehsha...


The stone of a long-haired man, on the right side, began to dissolve away from the feet up. More and more the stone turned into flesh and color, revealing a man in his mid-twenties, who wore a red chest plate.

As the stone completely faded away, the identity of the man was able to be confirmed as none other than Shento, the Dragon's Bane. Shento bent over, not yet used to using muscle or keeping his balance, allowing his long, black, flowing hair to cover his face, and blow in the breeze once more. He slowly rose up, looking down, and his hair fell back behind his head. He then raised his head and opened his eyes, revealing sharp, red pupils, which showed no signs of a friendly nature.

He looked down at his hands, and saw that a familiar weapon had been placed into them. He started to loosen his grip, but then gripped it tightly, again, almost as if instinct had taken over, after so long.

".... .Shadarlo endehlask...Kujote sho daj... bojatuh...? ... ...I.. to be awake? ...Why?"

He blinked slowly and looked over to the only man he did not recognize, narrowing his eyes. Something was familiar about him.

"...Darkness here."

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

A crackling; thin lines ran around his figure until a very, very dim light shone from the top, and the stone seemed to evaporate. The statue's afro poofed out with a boing, and soon his stern face came to life, then his torso to limbs and legs.

He took in a breath. "Whooo baby!" he shouted. Ledreak Bonqueesha was done being dormant eye candy, and came down from the pedestal with a light tap disrupting the sound of silence. Then his crowbar clanged down with a metallic clink.

The lance known as Graver was not released to the public. It was an inactive lance, only activated by the real heat of battle when it was needed. In most cases, Ledreak kicked a** with a crowbar. In the serious cases, he crushed them with Graver.

He thumbed his goatee and puffed his afro. "Ooh, baby, this is sweet. Still got the look, aw yeah!" he grinned.

A small, delicate flower, fluttering in the breeze...