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It was almost surreal, even to the Ascendant General, that the unlikely pair were standing together again in the midst of Destiny City. A rescue had never been part of this plan - a willing release had most certainly not.

One of the abandoned districts served the broken doll well - there were always those that chose to pick off the youma working the outskirts of civilization but, overall, they were left undisturbed by the distant energies of soldiers and the curious teenagers that milled about in search of a little privacy from their parents. The small courtyard stood as the entrance to a building that had been destroyed in a skirmish Alkaid could not recall, now cleared of rubble and covered in layers of graffiti that gave some hint to whom often frequented the area. She had picked it days before the night arrived but only allowed Ida to send the address to Hver an hour before she expected her arrival.

Suspicious didn't even begin to cover how little she trusted the allies of the White Moon.

"Can you remain standing?"

Alkaid's face was blank as she dropped her amber gaze onto the Eternal, taking in her wasted form and the overall lack of energy it suggested. It wouldn't have been long before she perished if Alkaid had to guess - Hver had been contacted with very little time left to the girl. One hand remained fisted in the cowl at the base of Ida's exposed neck as she waited for the answer - all the while keeping half of her mind on the energies milling around them, hoping to feel Hver before she was upon them. Hver and whatever sacrifice she had chosen.

Hvergelmir was alone. She'd always intended to come alone -- but this was not how she'd wanted to do it.

A long, slender lock of brown hair, taken from Ida's shorn-off braid, was nestled between Hvergelmir's fingers. She'd woven the strands of hair into a small, plaited bracelet, and she carried it with her where she went like a talisman, gliding her fingers over it in an endless circuit like she was counting beads on a rosary.

It was all she had, and all she had to hold onto. If Alkaid accepted her bargain -- though Hvergelmir knew that might not be likely, now -- it was the only companionship she imagined she could expect.

Kairatos had been gone for a long time -- avoiding her since their argument, she feared -- so there was nothing of him that she could take with her. She had plenty enough from Titan, if she'd wanted it -- he'd given her clothes to hold onto -- but taking anything of his with her was a risk to his safety. He'd risked enough on her behalf time and again; she couldn't allow sentiment on her part to put him in any danger.

The bravest things, we do alone. The bravest things, we do unseen. After all, that's when it's hardest to be brave: when only our own will holds us to account.

Perhaps it's better this way.

And Ida will know. Whatever happens, at least Ida will know I came for her.

Hvergelmir stopped to lean against a building, shuddering. She'd been captive for a week and in the hospital for weeks after that, and she still had frequent nightmares. Her feet stung unaccountably, sometimes, and the scars -- while they mercifully hadn't cost her any fine motor control -- were always with her. More than almost anything, she didn't want to go back to that.

Almost anything.

But the thing she really didn't want to do -- more than absolutely anything -- was abandon Ida in her time of need.

Ida had been in this hell for months: and Hvergelmir was all she had. She'd go because she was needed. But she was still terrified.

It was a vain effort, at first, to try and pull herself together. For all the conviction she'd summoned, for all her certainty that she was going to do this, terror and self-preservation bid her to hesitate: not to take each next step forward. To turn back. To save herself. To be selfish. To find someone else to spare her this burden, someone else to hold her hand and tell her it was alright, she didn't have to do this.

The trouble was, if she did find someone, that was exactly what they'd tell her. People were happy to protect Hvergelmir from danger, to spare her from sacrifice. People were brave -- if she had asked Babylon for help, or Mistral or Hyperborea, or even Camelot himself -- if she'd asked any of them to take Ida's place, like Alkaid had charged her to do -- they would've gone. One way or another, they would've excused Hvergelmir for her cowardice and told her this wasn't her responsibility to shoulder, and that she had a right to choose her own life over someone else's.

That was why she couldn't ask them. Because she'd knew they'd tell her that she didn't have to do this -- and she knew, in her heart, that she did. That this was always going to be the only option. It was why she'd spent the entire time Alkaid had given her not trying to find some Transcendent to take Ida's place -- but trying to find some way to Transcend.

Power had always come to her when she'd needed it before. When she'd understood its purpose in her journey. It was only now that it had failed. Even Labyrinthite, who'd been the one to trigger her Transcendence in their lost, broken future, hadn't been able to help her this time -- though in good faith, even he'd tried.

None of it mattered. Not her failures, and not her fears. All that mattered was putting one foot in front of the next until she got there -- striking a bargain as best she could, and seeing it through until it was done. Alkaid was waiting. Ida was waiting.

Hvergelmir wiped the tears off her face with the heel of her hand, then pushed off the wall till she was standing on her own again. Her fingers slid smoothly across her summons ring, and moments later, Eikthyrnir appeared before her in the darkness: glittering and glowing faintly in the evening shadows, a pale protector. Hvergelmir brushed her fingers over its neck and let them rest there, drawing comfort from the touch.

The great, antlered beast watched her impassively. "Will you go with me, old friend?" she asked quietly. "I'm not sure I can do this alone."

There was a pause while the creature evaluated what it understood of her request -- of what she was doing. But whatever Eikthyrnir made of it, its concern registered with her, and its somber regard. Wizened and graceful, the grand caribou answered her by lowering its head sorrowfully and taking a few steps forward. It seemed to know that wherever she was going, she was going to some kind of an end.

Hvergelmir lowered her head, shoulders heavy, and followed suit, walking with her summons by her side. Alkaid's Chaos-clotted aura nettled the edges of her senses, drawing nearer as Hvergelmir approached: and in the shadow of it, pure but water-thin, was a second flutter of energy. Ida, whatever was left of her.

She would convince Alkaid that she was a worthy trade for Ida, even without Transcendence. She'd made bargains before, and she'd thought her arguments through this time. The path forward was the only way left. As long as Alkaid stayed calm and listened to Hvergelmir's arguments, she'd see reason and agree to the trade. Cooler heads would prevail.

Soon it would all be over. One way or another.

Hvergelmir approached at a slow but measured pace.

Feeling the loss of tension in the grip, Ida let her knees release and she sank down slowly to sit on the floor, her legs splayed and folded back. She did as she was told and kept her mouth carefully shut, but it was as much a desire to not draw attention to herself as it was to follow Alkaid's orders.

Hope was a small, delicate butterfly in her chest, beating against the cage of her ribs. The air was clear. Freedom lay beyond those dark and dirty doors... and a shining star was approaching.

She could feel her now... a clean, clear and achingly bright aura she hadn't felt in... so very long. Just sensing her there, coming closer, separated by a matter of feet rather than millions of miles and the black emptiness of space... it was enough to draw tears to her eyes.

Hver...

Despite her determination to stay ready, to stay wary, she couldn't stop herself from leaning forward and straining for the first view with her eyes rather than the sense in her head. The fall of opalescent hair, the soft drape of pale fabric... It was a struggle not to burst into tears, the weight of months of isolation and pain crashing down on her all at once till she could barely breath under it all.

Silence was the first thing that greeted Hver and the proposed addendum to what Alkaid considered a binding contract. Her face was so impassive that it nearly looked like she could have been considering it, staring at the gossamer vision with her head tilted lightly and her eyes stilled upon the sight of her. Then that brilliant gaze dropped to Ida where she sat, very near broken if she wasn't already, and her head shook very slowly.

"My curiosity has been sated and what I want, more than anything, is to be free of my duty as a captor. I don't enjoy having people around very often, I'm sure you can imagine." She stepped forward to Ida slowly, while her eyes roamed down and picked out all the little differences in what Ida had been and what she was, now - a bruised and swollen wrist, shorn locks, and a pale ghost of a transcendant marking . "I am getting rid of her because I'm tired of the responsibility, Hvergelmir. This was the deal she proposed to save her own life and it is the only one I will take."

As the Cosmos knights' name passed her cracked lips, her attention reverted to the woman standing before them. She was brave, Alkaid would give her that much, to come alone with nothing to offer and not even the ability to save Ida's life on her own. Hell, she wondered how much Hver could even do in self-defense - certainly all it would take to kill them both was a faster reaction time. She was convinced of her upper hand, here.

"It would have been better not to come at all, duckling, and then you at least wouldn't have to remember what it looks like to see her die."

A foot raised quickly to punctuate her words, heel and flat colliding with Ida's back and shoving with morce force than necessary, so that she could send the wasted eternal to greet the ground beneath her.

-x-

The voices were muddled at first, as Kamboja crawled in his civilian form across the rooftop, concealed in the darkness without a pesky energy signature to give him away. They defined themselves better as he neared the ledge of the rooftop and collapsed against it, his back to the concrete and his head concealed beneath its height. His heart was already racing and he tried his best to contain his heavy breathing, lest he give himself away to that falcon of a woman below.

He had only caught the briefest glimpse of white and purple, sitting at the ascendant's feet.

It was enough, though, to guess what was happening. Hver was a clever, clever woman - he would give her that. Judging by the conversation drifting up to him, though, she seemed not quite clever enough. Dread was building in his chest, swelling to a heavy weight that felt close to crushing him, and making his guilt rear its ugly head. The thought of using his magic right now was at war with his need to help this situation, somehow. <********," he mouthed, almost silently, to himself like a prayer. There was nothing that was going to make this situation end well except his interference. Dark, wary eyes dropped to the ring encircling his left middle finger - crude and large and Rayyan's.

He pushed himself slowly up so that he was crouching next to the ledge, peeking only faintly over the side to get a better idea of how they were positioned. Alkaid's back was to him, at least. A small grace.

Hvergelmir had prepared for the possibility of Alkaid's refusal. If there was one thing Chaos seemed to inspire in people, it was a hair-trigger response to not getting what they wanted. Anger. Irritation. Impatience. Under Chaos's influence, people were often less likely to modulate their responses.

She'd planned out her responses, rehearsed them for the ways the situation might go if Alkaid tried to turn her down. Words were Hvergelmir's only weapons -- they were all she had to fall back on, and she did what she could to keep them honed for battle.

"I was not aware," she cut into Alkaid's initial response sharply, her tone flat and biting, "your boredom superseded Metallia's interests, Ascended." There was more to Hvergelmir's parry, further strikes at her loyalty still waiting to be aired -- but before she could continue into I thought you were supposed to be tireless in her service, a perfect and selfless servant -- how disappointing, Hvergelmir was interrupted when Ida responded to Alkaid's opening attack with a kick of her own.

It was a cruel thing, perhaps, to stand there in that moment and wish Ida hadn't done anything. Alkaid might not have given Hvergelmir much chance against her, to bargain for Ida's life in the face of someone who didn't care at all about it -- but whether or not Hvergelmir had much chance of arguing Alkaid down and winning a battle of words and wills before she'd succeeded in fully murdering the Transcended senshi, it was beyond doubt that Ida's chances of succeeding in a match of strength against Alkaid were considerably smaller in Ida's current state.

Ida was running on the last wisps of life-sustaining energy that she possessed. Alkaid was fresh.

And she wasn't going to listen to Hvergelmir about anything at all, now that Ida was engaging in combat with her. Hvergelmir scrambled for what she could say or do now to fix the situation -- but there was nothing. The Cosmos knight supposed it was unfair of her to expect Ida to keep faith in Hvergelmir's ability to talk her out of danger, and that the senshi had every right to go her own way in defending her own life . . . but she wished, nonetheless, that Ida had made a different choice. Violence against Alkaid was a path Hvergelmir couldn't follow her down. Ida was now out on her own.

Hvergelmir summoned her cloak into her arms and clung to it, drawing on its magic as hard as she could to give her a flow of fresh energy. Eikthyrnir had been worn down to only his last few seconds, as she'd intended, to show she'd disarmed herself for the meeting -- she needed to resupply her energy as fast as she could to make sure there was just enough to attempt an emergency jump, now. It was supposed to be Hvergelmir's own escape route, once Alkaid had set Ida free and taken her instead, and there would've been much more time and opportunity to see it through without Alkaid knowing. But the stardust cloak wasn't designed for high-speed energy transfers like she needed now.

Now it depended on how long Ida could last. It depended on how slowly Alkaid decided to kill her.

The odds weren't good -- and they were out of help.