Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Legend of the Mystics ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne or any of its characters. However, I do own the other characters.

A/N: I have not changed very much here just the style. The summary for this story will be found in Chapter 1.
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Prologue

A burning sun hung high in a clear blue sky; trees and grass swayed to the music of the wind. Creatures of all sorts milled about what had once been ash and rubble, but was now showing signs of being a city. Small huts and unfinished buildings dotted the landscape.
Van Fanel paced nervously in front of one of these small huts. Glancing about, his eyes caught sight of his country men carrying supplies to build more temporary homes and finish the buildings. If things went according to plan, as he fervently hoped they would, Fanelia would be rebuilt in two to three years. He stopped his pacing to look at the door. The healer has been in there for hours. What could be taking so long?
“Lord Van! Lord Van!” Van turned and waved tiredly at the cat-girl running towards him.
“Hey Merle.” He tried to speak cheerily despite the dark cloud hanging over his mind.
“Lord Van, has the healer come out yet?” Merle asked. Van shook his head. Merle frowned and nudged the dirt with the toe of her shoe. “You’d think after three months the healer would have accomplished something.”
The door of the hut swung open and an elderly doctor stepped out. He shut the door gently then turned to meet Van’s expectant gaze. “The wound is healing well, but I recommend more rest.” The healer said softly.
“How much longer does he need?” Merle asked.
“Maybe another month.” The healer replied.
“May I go in?” Van asked, his eyes lingering on the door. The healer nodded his head. Van immediately went through the door and stepped into a softly lit room. The hut was almost bare, except for a dresser, small table with a few candles, and a bed. Lying in the bed was the object of Van’s concern. He walked quietly over and gently lowered himself on the edge of the soft mattress. Tears threatened to fall as he stared at the pale, thin young man. He laid a hand gently on the young man’s arm.
“The healer said you are doing better, and the wound should be healed in a month.” Van began. The healer had told him in the beginning that talking to the young man would help with the healing. However, Van found it hard to believe just talking would help heal a deep wound. In many ways, he believed the doctor had only said that to make him feel like he could do something for their patient.
“We have organized more workers, and maybe we can get some help from our allies. I…” Van trailed off as tears began to roll down his face. “I can’t do this without you. We really need your help. Please, please wake up.”
He buried his face in his hands and began to sob. His heart felt so heavy with loss. Even though he knew the wound was healing, he couldn’t help feeling there was still a chance that the patient would not survive. For three months, the doctor from Basram had been caring for the unconscious young man. In all that time, he had only awakened a few times and only for a few minutes.
“I wish you could here me. If only you’d wake up, then I would know you’d be ok.” Van managed to say between sobs.
“Shh, there is no need to cry.” Van started at the sound of the weak voice. He jerked his hands back and found himself looking into soft, red eyes.
“Brother!”

~*~

A lone traveler moved through the dark streets of Zaibach. He stumbled about weakly, his mind playing memories he only wanted to forget. Pain. Death. Shaking his head fiercely, he continued on his way. The house is here somewhere, he thought desperately. He needed a place to rest and recover. Pulling the dark cloak about himself, he trudged on through the darkness. As he turned a corner, he bumped into a soldier.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” The soldier spoke harshly. The traveler ground his teeth. How dare that fool talk to me like that!
“I’m sorry. I did not see you there. Perhaps you could direct me to the Albatou home?”
“Humph. It’s that way. Though I can’t see why you would want to go there.” The traveler walked off without answering. After walking for what seemed like an eternity, a beautiful mansion came into view. Two enormous trees acted as a gateway to the grounds. Walking onto the expansive grounds, he could feel the serenity that seemed to permeate the air. This place promised rest and healing for his weary mind and wounded body.
He hurriedly made his way towards the door; bracing himself against the side, he knocked. As he waited for a response, an object off to the side caught his eye. A bush adorned with red roses rested beneath a window. He reached a weak hand out. Pale fingers stroked a silken petal. They are all gone, a voice whispered. The traveler shook his head to clear it; turning his attention back to the door, he knocked again. Soft footsteps made their way to the door. The door opened and a blond haired girl peaked her head out.
“Can I help you?” She asked cautiously.
“Celena?” The traveler asked clearly confused. His eyes searched the girl’s face. Clear blue eyes stared back at him from a fair skinned face. Gold tresses fell to the girl’s small shoulders. “You look different.” Exhaustion suddenly overtook him and he collapsed.
“Are you ok?” She knelt down beside the visitor and pulled the hood back. Her hands began to shake and her eyes widened.
“Oh god. It’s not possible.” She breathed. Pale skin, silver hair, and this uniform. It has to be. “Dilandau. Brother.”