I eat angst

This had been a common occurrence for her in the past month, ever since the seating arrangement had changed at the start of the semester. She'd been seated next to a classmate she'd never interacted with before - a girl with silver hair whose name kept slipping from her mind.

"You should have paid attention. It'll be important for our math project." The girl next to her spoke with an amused lilt to her voice, finally dropping her hand and ending her torture of Maya's face, a smirk playing on her lips. That was the only expression Maya had ever seen on her - an eternal smirk, like the entire world was an interesting game at her fingertips.

Even now, weeks after their first awkward meeting that had ended with her hand gripped so tightly around Maya's that her fingers had creaked for hours afterwards, the sight still sent a cold shiver down her spine. Maya didn't much like speaking with her, but she hadn't made any progress detangling the reason why.

She was just like any other student in this school, if exceptional - top of the class, class representative, teacher's pet. Far above Maya's league. A stranger to Maya, yet at the same time strangely familiar. A girl she could swear sometimes appeared in her dreams - a fleeting figure that vanished with the morning rays. But that was an impossibility. How could she be anything more than an everyday schoolgirl?

"It doesn't matter anyway, In…" she trailed off, the name on the tip of her tongue fading into the dust. Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned to face the door of the classroom, conveniently putting the other girl out of sight. Looking at her too long sometimes made her head hurt; flashes of something else overlaid across her sight.

She would prefer not to interact with the other girl at all - but they were groupmates on a project, so they had to meet up to work on it. Zero communication was impossible. Most of the time, their meetings amounted to Maya drifting off to sleep and startling awake from nightmarish images while the other girl did all the work.

"It's Lacrymira, remember?" Her tone was still wryly amused as she laid a heavy hand on Maya's shoulder. Maya stiffened as she fought the urge to push the touch away like a hot coal. "Let's go. We need to get the basketballs for gym class."

Suppressing a sigh, Maya followed after Lacrymira, passing the equations written on the board in marker, which to her gaze seemed more like number spaghetti that she had no hope to decipher. She was not looking forward to this. Whenever the two of them were alone, Lacrymira tended to fire an invitation to what amounted to a date with a wide smile playing on her lips - a visit to a crepe store, browsing the shopping arcade, strolling by the waterway. Maya had been turning each invitation down with increasingly elaborate excuses. It could just be her wanting to be friendly, but still, Maya did not want to spend more time alone with her than she needed to.

Another invitation was likely coming her way, and she didn't know if she had the energy to handle it.

~~~

"Say, Maya?"

"What?" Maya stilled, fingers curled in the metal bars of the cage that was stuffed to the brim with basketballs. Lacrymira was a blur of silver and white in the corner of her vision.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Lacrymira took step after deliberate step closer, the blur resolving itself into the shape of a girl. It almost felt like the room itself had begun holding its breath, waiting for something.

Emerging, emerging from a shattered wall of glass.

One hand jumping to her temple that had begun to pulse with sharp pain, she whirled around, back pressed against a shelf of dusty equipment. Lacymira's lips had split to show her perfect rows of white teeth, reminding her of the cats stalking the mice out in the gutters near her home, claws extended and ready to shred into their prey. Clutched in one hand was a ball weight, casually swung back and forth like it weighed nothing at all.

She prayed that this was just another awkward invitation. But her gut was screaming at her that this was something much, much worse. That she should sprint for the door and never stop running, not until she had fled to the edge of the world.

Back into the glass' embrace.

"How do you feel about me?" Lacrymira came to a stop before Maya, her face only a few centimetres from Maya's as she leaned forward.

With Lacrymira's breath brushing against her skin, Maya couldn't think. Every thought that entered her mind joined a flurry of others, flying wildly and smashing into each other until there was nothing left, washed away by a pungent scent. She found herself frozen, none of her limbs responding like Lacrymira's very presence trapped her here, in the cage that was her trembling body.

"I don't know you," she blurted out, chest heaving, unable to speak anything but the truth.

Who are you, who are you, WHO ARE YOU?

"Hm." Lacrymira's expression didn't shift at all, even as she cocked her head to the side. "What a shame."

That was the last thing she heard before there was a rapid blur of black. A sharp pain exploded in the side of her head, and she knew no more.

~~~

Insight picked the red out from under her fingernails; the ball weight dropped next to her feet. Its side was stained with a sluggish red, the same red that was oozing out of the crumpled heap on the floor.

She nudged the cooling body with her foot. Truly dead, it seemed.

"Another failure…" she mumbled, stretching. "What a waste."

There was nothing more to do but try again. Again, and again, and again, pulling the reset button any time she deemed fit.

Insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. But she had all the time in the world and all the power to do anything she wanted. She had long since ascended from the limiting cage of humanity. Things like sanity no longer held sway over her.

"Let's try again, shall we?"

~~~

Maya sluggishly opened her eyes. The heat of the muggy afternoon was almost enough to make her rest her head back against the trunk of the tree she'd been taking shelter under and go right back to sleep, if not for the hand insistently shaking her shoulder.

Yawning, she squinted against the sunlight, making out a figure before her, row after row of sunflowers towering behind both of them. Another girl, silver hair spilling down her back under the wide brim of a sun hat.

"So sorry to wake you up," the girl said, and Maya frowned. There was something so very familiar about the voice, though she was certain she'd never heard it before.

"I'm Lacrymira. I'm trying to find my way to the village that's supposed to be around here. Would you mind showing me the way?"

Maya stared at the offered hand, time seeming to slow as she considered the question. There was no reason to hesitate, but a large weight settled in her stomach, telling her not to do it. Yet, how could it hurt to offer aid to one in need?

A playful hand shoved him back onto the grass with a thump. Colette hovered above him, golden hair forming a shimmering curtain as she prodded him in the cheek, eliciting a confused noise of protest from his end. "You shouldn't be frowning, Lloyd!"

“Why not?” He peered up at her, frown dissipating into wide-eyed curiosity as she deftly extricated the half-done flower crown from his slack hands and began to fix the disaster he had created.

"You should be smiling," she said with a beaming smile of her own, one that he easily matched. "That's what Dad says." Brows furrowing, she began to recite in her best rendition of her father's voice. "Children should greet the day with smiles on their faces, so once they grow old, they'll…" She trailed off then, biting her lip.

"I don't remember the rest of it," she murmured, pulling back as her hair fell to hide her face, fingers worrying at the flowers in her lap.

His smile slipped into a tiny frown at the sight, something in his chest beginning to ache. He'd lost count of how many times this had happened - Colette randomly lapsing into moments of silence. It had happened multiple times while she'd been having lunch with him and Genis in the schoolyard. In the middle of a conversation, there would come a point where she would pause and seemingly hunch into herself. Even though he could reach out and take her hand right now, she seemed a thousand miles away, in an entirely different world only she knew about.

This had all started after she'd slipped into the church at the start of the month for her session with the priests, but she'd been doing them her whole life. What had been different this time?

He didn't know. What he did know for a fact was that right now, a shadow covered her face. And that wouldn't do. He much preferred her with a smile - he always felt lighter when that was the case. With the world shining bright like a star around her, he thought he could do anything.

A surprised gasp erupted from her in the next second, a quick shove as he sprang up causing her to collapse backwards onto the grass. A gasp that quickly dissolved into giggles, her hand flung over her face as her shoulders shook with laughter. The daisies had exploded from her grasp, scattered across her lap and seeded across her hair, as if they had sprouted from the gold in a heedless explosion of joy.

Peeking at him from between her fingers, she asked a question in fits and bursts, the words painstakingly dragged from within her. "Lloyd… could you… promise me something…?"

"Anything," he replied without hesitation.

For a split second, her lips parted, ready to spill whatever vow he would tie himself to in one breath.

"Never mind. It's nothing," she whispered, turning to press her cheek against the grass, something flitting across her face, too fast for him to catch.

The urge to keep asking questions raged like an inferno within him. Carefully quashing it down, he took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. It would be no use to try and find out right now. Asking her what was wrong was like trying to push through a brick wall - an impossible task, and he suspected this would be no different.

There was one thing he could achieve right now.

"Gotcha!" he crowed as his fingers descended on her sides, where he knew she was most vulnerable. Her peals of laughter spilt forth from her until they flooded his lungs too, until he could take no more and dropped down next to her, heaving for breath and letting the sunlight warm his skin. Once more, the white petals were scattered by their frantic motions, carried away by the wind.

This would be his job from now on, then, he decided. To keep a smile on her face, no matter what. She already did a good enough job of that - she'd used to cry whenever she tripped on the corner of a stray rock by the schoolhouse, angry red scrapes littering her legs. But the tears had petered off some time ago. Just last month, she'd taken a nasty fall down the stairs at his home and opened a gash that spanned half her arm. She'd winced and bit her lip when Dad had cleaned the wound, but she hadn't let a single tear fall. There'd even been a small smile on her face when it was all over and he'd tearfully asked if she was alright. Would he have been able to do that? He didn't think so. But perhaps she'd been thinking of her father's words even then.

I'll make you happy. Always. A simple promise, sworn to himself in the quiet of his mind.

~~~

The muted echoes of peals of laughter pushed through the window, a gentle breeze brushing against the glass and tugging gently at the last few leaves clinging desperately to the branches of the tree rooted in the dirt outside, stark red against the soft browns of coming winter. Below the branches, feet pattered as the blurry forms of children raced in circles, unwilling to waste even a single second of the weak sunlight filtering through the mass of clouds hanging overhead. The snow would arrive one day soon with a howling fury, but until then, children and adults alike were going to grasp every remaining second of daylight.

Gazing at the sight, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth, Colette pressed a kiss to the limp hand clasped in both of hers, its owner fast asleep. In her mind's eye, she could see a trio of children dashing through Iselia, hand-in-hand and fleeing from the fury of their professor. A memory many years old, but still easy to recall, even if it could no longer be recreated. The children in that frozen moment in time had all grown up. They had continued to walk down a path that had at times seemed to wind endlessly, uncertain of where they would end up. On this path, they had seen both the abject cruelty of the world and the enduring beauty of all it contained. They could never turn their backs and return down the path to the innocence of childhood, for it had already disappeared behind them. There was only moving forward, ever forward, for as long as they could, until the path finally came to an end.

A minute tremble in the hand she had gently held for the past hour told her that the time she had been waiting for had arrived, and she turned her attention to the figure in the bed.

"Lloyd…?"

~~~

Colette pulled stray twigs out of her hair, sighing and tilting her head up to stare at the moon. It was full tonight, hanging in the sky and painting the city of Meltokio in melted silver. It had illuminated her quiet but hasty escape from the ballroom of the palace to this secluded area of the royal gardens, occupied by a fountain of a deer, water spouting gently in a circle around it.

Quiet it had been, but she'd certainly gone through a fair share of hedges in her flight. The white dress she had been wearing must certainly be ruined by now. At the very least, it was spattered with mud. At the very worst, she might have ripped it. She didn't dare look down, not wanting to confirm the damage to the gift Zelos had given her.

She ran her hand across the weathered rim of the fountain, cold beneath her fingers. It had been constructed a year or two after the Journey of Regeneration. Back then, she and Lloyd had relaxed in the shade of the deer and talked about anything and everything. He'd marvelled at the precise stonework, gaping at the soulful gaze of the doe into the far distance.

The stone had smoothed over years of rain and sunshine. Its face was no longer distinguishable, even though the general shape of a deer remained - snout, legs, tail. Everything else had been wiped away by the flow of time, never to return. Yet sometimes, all that time felt like just the blink of an eye.

Nothing lasted forever. Not memories, not stories, and certainly not people.

Her face stared back at her from the surface of the water, unmarred by ripples. The same youthful face that had stared into a mirror, fear and regrets chained around her heart, and promised herself that she would leave Lloyd behind when she began the slow march to her death. Once, she had stood beneath the vision of a Yggdrasill centuries in the future, awe stealing the breath from her lungs as the shadow of its branches had covered her. Yet the only face among her companions that would remain to greet it would indeed be the same one that had borne witness to the vision of a hopeful future, having not aged a day.

Nothing lasted forever, except for her.

In the distance, warm light spilt out of the ballroom doors onto the grass, the sounds of merriment floating into the air. They were unable to reach her, to thaw the frost that had been creeping through her veins for the past few years. Behind her, the soft footsteps that had been padding through the night for the past few minutes came to a stop.

Lloyd didn't say a word when he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin atop her head. The tension bled from her shoulders as she breathed in the familiar scent of wood that always followed him.

Earlier in the night, she'd been hiding in a corner of the ballroom. It was an obligation to show up at the annual reunification celebration ball, given that they were the heroes it was meant to honour. She would never get used to the decadence of the ballroom - crystals adorning giant chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, the lords and ladies dressed in the finest silks while gems of a dozen colours glittered on their fingers. Thankfully, as the years went on, they were approached less and less as the novelty of their journey wore off. It was easy enough to find a pocket of quiet and pass the time with her friends.

Tonight had been different - none of their companions had been able to make it. Even Zelos had been waylaid tending to Seles' sudden bout of sickness. Melancholy had already been hanging over her head like a storm cloud, leading her to swirl champagne in her flute while parked awkwardly in a random corner. There was, of course, the small group of court ladies throwing biting insults at who they deemed a "simple country girl". A long time ago, their venom-tipped words would have sliced deep into the heart of an insecure girl. They didn't bother her at all now, sliding off her like water.

It was the innocent questions wondering who the young woman was that truly pierced her heart with barbs that lodged in its fragile flesh. They weren't meant to hurt, but they were the straw that broke the camel's back, the flute shattering in her hands before she had fled.

"You didn't have to come after me," she whispered, turning to bury her face in his chest, craving the sanctuary of his arms, knowing nothing could hurt her here.

He didn't answer, for there was no need to. She already knew he would always choose to come after her. Until the day came that it was no longer possible, he would always chase after her.

The only thing he did was gather her closer, beginning to sway them both to the beat of an invisible band only he could hear. A dance meant just for the two of them under the moonlit leaves of the garden, tucked away from the rest of the world.

The steady beat of his heart pulsed in her ears, reassuring her that he was still here, solid and real. If she closed her eyes right now, she would be able to pretend nothing had changed at all. That they were both still young and brimming with hope right after she had escaped her cruel fate.

But to do so would be to lose sight of the Lloyd in front of her at this very moment, the Lloyd she loved so very much.

So she reached up to run her hands through his brown locks, lingering on the small streaks of grey that were creeping in.

"Fetching," she'd laughed when she'd first noticed them, ignoring the way something in her heart had twisted.

He had changed so much, and would continue to change. Just as she would, time ever passing, no matter how much she wanted it to stand still. A truth she had always known, but was only now bitterly carving itself into her heart.

Nothing could stand against the river of time. All she could do, at this very moment, was grasp at every part of this night. The crisp air against her skin, the small smile playing on Lloyd's lips, the laughter that couldn't help but burst from her as Lloyd spun her around. To write it all onto the surface of her heart alongside the truth she had realised, so it would endure forevermore.

~~~

Lloyd's fingers twitched, his eyes struggling to open as he slowly returned from the realm of dreams. For a few seconds, he seemed to stare through her, slowly blinking until his watery gaze finally focused on her. A smile spread across papery lips, a low hum leaving his throat.

"Hello there," she muttered, giving his hand a small squeeze. When they were both young, his hand had been bigger than hers, warm and steady and covered with the evidence of the hours he sunk into woodworking. Over the years, he had gained more than just callouses - a few raised white lines from the sharp tips of weapons crossed his flesh, both his own and those wielded with ill intent. Now his hand was paper-thin, lacking the strength to return the gesture. It felt chilly against her own, despite the hearty fire dancing cheerfully within the fireplace in the living room. A sign that the flame of his life was nothing more than an ember now, almost ready to go out with a quiet sigh, letting his soul move on to be in the Goddess's embrace.

Quiet conversations drifted through the door to the bedroom, where the many companions Lloyd had amassed over the years were gathered, dear to both their hearts. They had arrived over the course of the last week, from all corners of the reunited world.

Genis and Raine had arrived together. Even now, decades later, the two of them still travelled around the world. No matter how slow their headway with the mission they had entrusted themselves to, they would press on, down the path they were forging for themselves. Genis stood taller than all of them now, having gained inch after inch like a slow-growing tree until he'd been able to lord it over Lloyd, much to his annoyance. It meant that he'd had to bend over to brush his lips against Lloyd's forehead - the affectionate mark of a beloved friend - while Raine had squeezed Lloyd's hand, her other hand a comforting presence on Genis' shoulder.

Zelos had been next to arrive, a quiet phantom that had drifted through the front door. He had not been made to carry the burden of eternal life, but his Cruxis crystal had seen fit to slow his ageing. What once were luscious locks that floated around his shoulders now only reached his chin, the red only now beginning to give way to grey. He carried with him still the cloud of grief that had arisen from Sheena's passing, softened with time to wrap around his shoulders like a cloak that would trail his steps until he took his last breath. Yet he had greeted Lloyd with the same lively energy of his youth, sparing Colette a small, understanding smile as he'd stepped out of the room.

Presea brought up the rear, the last of their original group to still stand on the shore of the living. Her ageing, too, had been slow at first, but it had begun to speed up after a few years until she aged just as fast as a normal human, even if she was still behind her true age. She'd prepared a few wooden charms, similar to those that sat by Regal's memorial, renewed every year before the elements did too much damage. She had placed them on the bedside table and conversed with Lloyd in quiet tones, a few chuckles emanating from the conversation.

All of them now sat in the living room, connected by the warmth of the crackling flames and the stories they reminisced over, weaving the tapestry of his life with each loving word.

A mutter answered her. Smoothing away the white locks that still stubbornly fell into tired russet eyes, she smiled down at her husband. Her fingers traced the many wrinkles on his face, representative of the many years he had lived, and the many happy memories they had made together in the short time allotted to them.

There wasn't long left now, she knew.

~~~

Colette's humming faded away as she reached the top of the final incline, the clicking of wheels coming to a stop as she reached down to lock the wheelchair in place on the hill. "We're here," she said softly by Lloyd's ear. It was the same set of words he'd often yelled in excitement as a child before running down into the sea of flowers as she'd followed close behind, catching petals in grasping hands.

Lloyd shifted, restless after the thirty-minute journey and shaking off the cobwebs of sleep that clung to him. Not wanting to keep him waiting too long, even though she knew he would never utter a single complaint, she made quick work of setting up the well-loved picnic blanket folded within the wicker basket she'd brought with her. It took no effort at all for her to gather him into her arms and arrange him comfortably with his head resting on her lap, soft white hair spreading across her thighs. His breath caressed her skin, interspersed with the occasional cough as she stared at the sky, the gentle breeze carrying strands of her hair as she pressed her fingers against a patch sewn into the blanket.

The grass was higher than it had been the last time they'd been here. Last autumn, in the company of Genis, before the harsh winter storms had forced them to take shelter within their home for the whole season, emerging only in spring as the coating of snow melted and revealed the life hiding beneath. Back then, the flowers had begun to droop as the cold winds blew, the strongest clinging desperately onto life and blooming ever more beautifully for their efforts. The grass had been browning and brittle, barely reaching their ankles. Lloyd had still been able to make the full trek on foot as long as they took regular breaks along the way, and had been the one to insist on making the journey one last time before winter's arrival. Its harsh colds had settled in his lungs and hadn't left. He was getting weaker with time's passage, the overturned hourglass almost out of sand to spill.

She tipped her head back with a sigh. It was easier to get lost in reminiscing, in the final years of their life together. Everywhere she went, there were echoes of her life, phantasms of memory slipping through her mind like mist. But there were always reminders of the here and now, like Lloyd's hand in hers, her thumb rubbing his knuckles in a continuous circle, as much soothing to him as it was to her.

"You don't have to stay." His voice might waver, but it still held the same steadfast determination.

She couldn't help the smile that stretched across her face, nor the laughter that bubbled in her chest, even as something bitter stirred in her heart. All these years, and he hadn't changed at all, wanting to spare her as much pain as was possible.

It was a thought that had occurred to her more than once, on particularly sleepless nights where she would sit by the window and watch the stars twinkling in the sky in their eternal solitude. She could keep her memories pristine under lock after lock, and leave before sorrow could touch them in any way. But that would only be clinging to a hollow fantasy, no more alive than the pure image Mithos had preserved of his beloved sister.

"I promised to stay."

A simple answer, for a truth too complex to express. She would remain, to watch, every single moment of this bond that had grown and flowered and would always live on in some way or another. This, too, deserved to be made memory.

His answering sigh did not escape her ears, tinged equally with fondness and relief. It was simply human nature to want to steal even one more moment to be with those they loved, even as time slipped through their fingers.

What a twist of fate, for this day to be a mirror's reflection of one in her youth. Once, she had swallowed down her selfish wish for him to keep her close to her heart even after she ceased to be human. But all the same, neither of them was able to ask that the other forget them, even knowing it would inevitably happen.

They watched the sun rise, hand in hand, an unspoken promise to live on, in memory and in life, passing between them.

~~~

The once steady rhythm of Lloyd's heart, which had been her anchor for many an anxious night, was beginning to falter beneath where her fingers rubbed circles into his wrist. It would soon come to a complete stop, bringing the final chapter of his life to a close, even if his story would live on long after.

He didn't have the strength to utter a word, nor to lift a single uncooperative limb. Even still, his smile did not waver.

And so she met it with her own - a brave, wide smile - wanting the last thing he saw in this life to be what he had proclaimed many times over to be his favourite sight. Something to reassure him that all would be well, and that he could let go without any regrets.

"There is no pain at the end," Presea had once said, standing by Regal's bedside, one hand placed on a cheek that had gone cold. "At least, that's what I believe."

Lloyd, too, seemed to be no longer plagued by the ache of his lungs struggling to draw breath or the frost chipping at his bones. Here, at the very end, the pain had all drained away, leaving nothing but a peaceful demeanour, as if he lay in the softest bed of feathers, ready to receive an angel's greetings.

Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, a practised motion she had done so many times. "Thank you for all the years of happiness you have given me. Sweet dreams, Lloyd," she whispered. Beneath her, his eyelids fluttered before finally sliding shut, one last breath whistling from his nose. Lloyd, who had never been able to stand still, had finally ceased moving, his chest no longer rising.

Looking at the one she had loved, she could see all the years she had spent with him. The boy, mired in uncertainty, but choosing to be brave every time. The man, who had grown into himself and carried his shoulders with confidence. The person who had stayed with her through thick and thin, no matter what.

Bowing her head, she held a hand up to her cheek and found it wet. The weight that she had carried for the past few years had finally burst at the realisation that he was truly gone now, unleashing a wave of grief that still surprised her with its height. She had known what was coming, could look back with a smile on the long life he had lived, but she supposed, at the end of the day, that there was never any hope of stopping grief in its tracks.

Sniffling, her smile wobbled.

"I'm sorry, Lloyd. But I suppose it's all right to cry now, isn't it?"

~~~

Seated on a park bench with a cup of warm coffee warming her palms, Colette breathed slowly out, a smile stretching across her face as she watched her breath crystallise into a tiny cloud. The cold had reduced to a gentle embrace, only a thin layer of snow remaining as the sun started its day earlier and earlier, the seasons creeping toward spring.

The events she had predicted had long since come to pass - her remaining friends had returned to the embrace of Yggdrasill, one by one, until she was the last to walk the earth. Over the centuries, she had watched the people around her learn and grow, but there were some things that never changed. Just as some sought to tear others to shreds for their own benefit, others had achieved incredible feats fuelled by an unyielding hope to change the world for the better.

There were decades where the ever-present grief dragged itself from the murky depths where it lurked, decades that she spent trapped in a garden of memories that had suddenly grown thorns, having lost sight of where she was. Realising her memories of Lloyd had started to fade, like an old photograph that could not be restored to its original vibrant state, had led to one of her worst decades. The struggle of that decade was a blur she could barely recall now, shaded in grey.

She still held no power over time. Memories inevitably faded, and they still left her heart feeling bereft when she reached for a memory and could no longer grasp it, slipping like quicksilver through her fingers. But she would always carry a part of him with her - an unbreakable faith in people that had touched her heart so long ago.

All she could do now was live, one moment to another, letting the time pass. Every century, she made new friends, experienced new things, and said her farewells. She kept moving forward, knowing not what she would find. Her life was a series of heartbreaks and incredible joy, and that was all it would ever be. She could ask for nothing more. For to truly live was to be brave enough to open one's heart to both love and grief, the two forever intertwined.

It would have been what Lloyd wanted - for her to never lose her smile.

Jumping to her feet, she let them carry her down the path.

Lloyd huffed out the breath he'd been holding, watching it crystallise into tiny crystals in the winter air, drifting for a few seconds before finally disappearing. The last time he'd set foot in Mizuho had been months ago. It had still been summer, when the sweltering heat felt like a cloak wrapped too tightly around one's shoulders, sweat caked one's skin like a grimy layer that refused to lift, and mosquitoes trailed after any object that so much as breathed with the intention to suck them dry.

Something about Mizuho's secluded nature, tucked far off the beaten path within the woods, gave it an ethereal nature. It seemed, sometimes, like a village out of a story, frozen in time while its residents lived out their lives isolated from the rest of the world. But of course, it was real, and time continued to flow through it. When he'd landed his Rheaird this morning to make the final trek into Mizuho, the cold had shocked him into stillness for a few moments, his feet sinking into an endless blanket of white.

In the snow that came up to their ankles, Sheena crouched, pressing her palms to the cold like it didn't sting. Before her was a neat row of graves with Mizuhoan letters lining the stone, marking the names of the souls that had been lost in Volt's rampage all those years ago. A fine layer of white clung to them as well.

"Are you sure you want me to be here?" he whispered, unable to bear lifting his voice louder than a whisper. The dead were asleep, and he did not wish to disturb their slumber. But he was uncertain of his role here, whether he should even be standing where the villagers had reverently laid their departed to rest. He wasn't of Mizuho - even if he had started learning the culture from Sheena, it was still early days, and what he knew was scattered bits and pieces. He didn't live and breathe their customs, know them as well as he did the palm of his hand, and the memory of the vindictive anger that had once been targeted at their party gave him reason to pause.

"I asked you to be here," Sheena repeated what she had said this morning when she met him at the entrance to the village, when he'd expressed the same misgivings as he did now. She'd made the request more than a week ago, over a steaming cup of tea when they'd bumped into each other in Meltokio. A moment of respite she'd wished to steal for herself before her duties as ambassador would send her to the opposite corner of the rejoined worlds - a moment spent in the comfort only her home could provide, when she hoped to pay her respects. She'd invited others of their party to join her before, based on what he'd learned from the conversations he'd had with them when he'd run into them on his endless wanderings.

Slowly, he made his way to her side, taking the offered hand as he knelt next to her. Breathing another cloud of frost, he watched her pay her respects with practised movements, some of which he knew. The lighting of the joss sticks, before they were pressed carefully into the snow next to the graves. The cleaning of the aged stone, done with a wooden ladle and cold water from the stream. The placing of the offerings, the favourite snacks and treats that Sheena had painstakingly prepared the day before, the memories of how she'd learned to make them still seared into her mind. The burning of offerings, such that the smoke could deliver them.

Each action was a labour of love as much as it was an expression of grief. Even still, her hand shook sometimes, and she would pause to suck in a shaky breath. Years had dulled the guilt, but it would never smooth over its aching heart. He said nothing, only squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb over her skin - a soothing presence that he hoped could act as a balm, no matter how small.

And when she pressed her palms together and closed her eyes, he did the same, offering his whispered prayers. This was simple to do - a prayer for happiness, for a better life to await those who had gone ahead in their journey, was a common wish shared among all who still lived.

Opening his eyes, he wrapped an arm around Sheena as they both rose to their feet, looking down at the graves. They no longer looked so lonely in the snow, surrounded by tokens of love. Sheena sighed, leaning closer to rest her head on his shoulder.

Before Vita had cracked the boundaries between worlds… Before she had been entrusted with Maya's very essence… Before her very understanding of her own self had irrevocably been altered… Her nightmares had never been this vivid. The cruel hands of her subconscious simply hadn't possessed the raw material to shape into vivid sensations to torture her in her slumber.

Before everything, her most common nightmare captured the moment in time when she had witnessed her first dawn break in the skies of Arcaea. Standing atop a cliff and gazing out across an endless desert of sand, broken only by random pillars that rose from the ground like outstretched fingers, attempting to bridge an infinite distance. A beautiful sight that flooded her chest with cold loneliness. It was then that the dream would tangle the threads of memory, warping the true events of that day. No one would arrive to pull her out of the dark depths of despair, leaving her huddled on the ground, drowning in lonely desperation.

It was a nightmare that left her with a crawling sense of dread, but one that was easily assuaged. Saya made efficient use of her space, and she often left Vita behind in the cave, leaving little to no trace of herself behind. One would be forgiven for looking around and thinking that Vita was the only occupant. But when Saya left, she would always, without fail, leave her cloak wrapped around Vita's shoulder. All she had to do, upon gasping awake, was clutch the familiar cloth close, and the claws of irrational fear would retract, unable to do battle against reality.

Now, however… The guilt pressed on her chest as she opened her eyes, an unbearable weight forever chained to her. One hand brushed against fresh wetness on her cheeks, the other tightening on the journal she never let out of her sight. It was tucked close to her side, kept safe in the confines of Saya's cloak. The cloak she instinctively buried her face in, the scenes from her grisly nightmare refusing to fade from behind her eyelids.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, holding back heaving sobs as she had for so many nights in a row. Apologising for a single fatal decision she could never take back, regardless of the second life she had been given in this strange world.

"I'm sorry." A tired echo of Maya reverberated in the depths of her mind. It wasn't really her - she was, after all, now nothing more than a memory contained within Vita. It was what she would have said as she carried the burden of the past, ruminating on it as she haunted the corridors of a lonely manor without its matron. Or was it what Vita thought she would have said, with Maya's memories flowing within her?

Vita and Maya. Maya and Vita. They were two halves of a whole - but they were not mirror images. Their paths had diverged too much for the shards of glass that formed them to fit neatly together anymore. The memories had gained a life of their own, even as the body continued to stumble through its first steps in this world.

Sometimes it felt like the two sets of memories formed after arriving in Arcaea were actively fighting with each other. The steadfast footfalls of Saya on desert sand contrasted with the loud echoes of Maya's footsteps in empty hallways when Vita tried to think about the events of the past few months. Even her perceptions of current events warped and shifted from moment to moment. The trust Vita had cultivated with Saya over their time together warred with Maya's reluctance to reach out, no matter how much she wanted to. Indecision left her frozen in place sometimes, anxiety she had never felt before lashing its tail around her legs. Confusion bubbled in every word, every action, every moment.

Even the memories of their shared past no longer slotted easily into the space it had been ripped from. Maya had shouldered that weight all along - it had shaped her perception of everything that came after, and always would. It was a memory shard with jagged edges that could easily stab through the heart, but one that she had refused to let go of, even as blood seeped endlessly from her fingers. But to Vita, whose hands were unscarred, the piercing pain crashed into her all at once, fresh and ferocious, eager to devour her whole.

Vita was glad to know the reason why waves of sadness would sometimes wash over her, why she clung to Saya so strongly no matter what the other woman did. But in the dead of night, having been jolted awake by another nightmare, a tiny voice in her head whispered that it would have been better to remain ignorant. What use was it to fixate on a mistake she could no longer correct? That was when the shame would find her, knowing that to forget would be to disrespect the promise she had made. All she could do during those moments was press the journal close to her chest and apologise to the raw feelings contained within its pages, penned in a shaky and uncertain hand.

Who was she now? Vita, Maya, both, neither? She wasn't merely the girl who had doomed their entire planet to a fiery death - she couldn't be, not with these new experiences. Not with the loneliness she had experienced, both in the vast plains of Arcaea and in halls filled with ghosts.

"Vita." Saya's sharp voice cut through her spiralling thoughts, slamming her back into the present. Vita uncurled from the ball she had become, finding the other woman leaning against the rough rock wall. She didn't comment on Vita using her cloak as a glorified tissue, despite the meticulous care she usually applied to everything, only calmly stared at her, arms crossed over her chest. She didn't pry any further; she never did, for she wasn't one to guide.

Rays of light filtered through the cave entrance, marking the end of a long night. The few shards of glass that were always floating around caught the light, illuminating the memories that were contained within. Memories that made up this world - memories that people had cherished, which had formed part of the story of their lives. A story of where they came from, and who they could become in the future. Right now, Vita's memories were a patchwork of mismatching fabric, put together with clumsy stitches. She didn't know who she was anymore - but the only one who could find that out was herself, no matter how difficult the path forward was. Only she could trace the threads and find a place for both sets of memories to settle.

"Martel!" A voice she could never forget cried out joyfully, drawing her frantic attention. A familiar face - the only one in this vast, white room - lit up as her little brother abandoned what he was doing and ran to her side.

Faced with the sight of Mithos, untouched by the river of time, she could almost convince herself that nothing had changed. That she was desperately trying to stop a war that had lasted far too many generations, taking so many lives that the battlegrounds were overflowing with bodies left to rot with no home to return to. That she was waking up after a fitful sleep, immediately on alert for the thousand and one possible dangers that could be surrounding their small group, Yuan greeting her with a tired smile while Kratos prepared a simple meal over a tiny bonfire. That this was just Mithos, ash clinging to his hair and dirt staining his fingernails, glad to see her awake, knowing that they had made it to witness another sunrise.

But she had never been the same height as her little brother, who was no longer so little anymore, no matter how he looked to the naked eye.

"Who…" The words stuck in her throat like poisoned barbs when she registered how young the voice leaving her mouth was. Golden hair fell to frame a face that wasn't hers as she stared down at hands absent of the scars she had amassed over the years, watching as they began to tremble in her lap. She almost swallowed the question down, something small and terrified deep within her wanting to shy away and curl into a ball. But she had never been one to avert her gaze from the harsh truth, to settle for the comforting lies so she could live a peaceful but ignorant life. Straightening her back and steeling herself, she met her brother's curious gaze.

She had to know whose life had been torn apart to fulfil a wish that had never been hers to begin with.

"What is it, Martel?" Mithos asked, head tilted to the side and a small frown beginning to spread across his face. The picture of youthful innocence, as if he were a baby bird learning from its mother how to fly for the first time. "Is something not right with your new body? It took longer than expected to get everything right, but if you don't like it, I'm sure we can find another one."

New body. He said it so easily. The same way he'd whispered happy birthday to her and gently placed a pressed flower in her palm, four thousand years ago, before endless oceans of blood had stained his hands.

"Whose body is this?" she said, her voice like a knife, slicing through the stale quiet.

"Whose body?" Her brother stared at her, a hint of puzzlement beginning to colour his expression, though it wasn't enough to overcome the radiant happiness. "Does it matter?"

She didn't reply, staring down the horror she had unwillingly created. There had always been an inky bitterness within her brother, even back then. Buried well beneath passionate determination, but exploding outwards in moments when the injustices of the world got too overwhelming for a child too young to have been experiencing them. It had dwelled within her as well. She would have burned down the whole world if it meant keeping her brother safe. Perhaps this had always been inevitable from the very beginning, their fates sealed the instant she had taken his hand and fled from the angry jeers of those who had once been their neighbours in Heimdall.

Mithos' voice softened at her silence. "Don't worry, Martel. Whoever she was, she didn't suffer." He took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "And I ensured no one would know the same pain I did."

Those bright blue eyes gazed at her so kindly. Grief bubbled in her chest, the same grief that had washed over her in what she had once thought to be her final moments, blood pooling on twisted tree roots as her brother screamed in her lap, grasping onto her like he could physically tie her soul down. Grief at all that had irrevocably fractured into pieces that had warped and could never fit together again.

"Like your heart being ripped out of your chest," he whispered. "I wouldn't wish that pain on anyone."

She could say nothing as her own heart shattered in her chest.

~~~

Lloyd sighed, slumping forward in his seat and letting his pencil fall from slack fingers. Resting his chin on his palm, he stared listlessly out the window of his room, watching raindrops patter against the glass like tiny, relentless stones. The world outside was wreathed in grey mist, unpenetrable by gaze alone. He could barely see the bank of the usually cheerful stream - now a gurgling, enraged monster - that passed perpendicular to his home.

"Can't believe the first thing Professor Raine did when we got home was assign us homework," he grumbled, slumping further in his seat.

"Just because you're now one of the Heroes of Regeneration doesn't mean you get to skip out on all the homework you didn't finish!" The memory of her declaring that at the gates of the village, with her arms crossed, was still fresh in his mind. It wasn't long before she'd shoved a thick bundle of worksheets into his arms and sent him home from the schoolhouse, Genis snickering on the sidelines, having long completed everything.

Only half a year had passed since they'd returned from the journey that had brought them all across Sylvarant, the journey that had led him to set foot outside the village for the first time in his life. While that journey had changed everything for everyone in this wide world, it almost felt like no time had passed at all. Here he was, struggling to do homework, just like before.

The villagers had thanked them when they'd returned, had thrown an exultant celebration when the crops had grown strong and tall, no longer withering with the mana seeping back into the world. The water was cleaner, the air fresher, the roads safer. But the novelty had worn off after a while, and everyone had fallen back into routine. The children still bounded to the schoolhouse every morning with Genis among the crowd, Lloyd following quite a while later with Noishe hounding his heels. He still trained under this very roof with Dad, awaiting the day he'd be deemed ready to learn more of Dad's secret techniques. He still spent aimless afternoons in the flower plains next to the village, plucking flowers and threading them together before letting the half-done flower crowns flutter to his feet, staring at the blue, blue sky.

Sometimes, it felt like nothing had changed at all, despite the people he'd met, the things he'd seen, the blood he'd had to spill.

Occasionally, his thoughts would drift to the two companions who had bid farewell after the Chosen had climbed the Tower of Salvation and brought the journey to its conclusion. Wherever they were, he hoped they, too, were enjoying this peaceful new world.

But most of the time, his thoughts lingered on the Chosen.

He himself didn't really understand why his thoughts kept heading in that direction like a runaway dragon, no matter how many times he tried to restrain them. If he concentrated hard, he could catch glimpses of her in scattered memories, as if she'd been obscured by the same fog the heavens had conjured to shield the earth. A view of her back, always with her face turned away. In the schoolhouse, in town, under the grape vines. They'd never been close - hadn't exchanged more than ten words with each other before the journey. He'd never dared to approach her, sitting alone in the corner of the classroom. What business would someone like him, one step away from being an outsider, have talking to her? To him, the Chosen always stood behind an impregnable wall.

Perhaps that was how everyone else thought as well.

It was almost strange to remember that the Chosen had come from this sleepy little town. Her departure had barely seemed to make an impact, leaving a gap that had been patched over almost immediately, the villagers continuing to tread on dirt roads without sparing her a second thought.

He could no longer remember her name, the letters lost to the fog of time.

Already, the image in his head was beginning to match the whispered proclamations of gratitude towards Sylvarant's latest saviour - soft blue eyes, long golden hair, not a blemish in sight. Perfect, as an Angel must be. But had there been days when she woke with tangles and knots in her hair? Nights when she went to sleep with dirt under her fingernails? Moments that she'd been nothing more than a girl - just as much a child as the rest of them? There must have been, but she must have hidden it from them all, for he had no recollection of it.

Cold claws of melancholy always raked his heart at the thought. There was no denying how much she had done for this world and everyone living in it, yet he knew barely anything about her. Even the memories from the journey, where she'd been withdrawn but kind, were beginning to fade without her presence to make new ones. Like a ghost that would blow away in the wind, very rarely brushing its icy fingers through his thoughts as truth faded into legend.

…regardless of everything, he hoped that the Chosen was happy, wherever she was.

"At this rate, Professor Raine's really going to kill me." He sighed once more. Professor Raine certainly had no expectations that he would finish everything she'd assigned, not after years of knowing him and his habits. But surely even she wouldn't think he'd turn in an empty sheet.

"Lloyd!" Dad's voice boomed through the house, shattering his train of thought. "It's time for dinner!"

Hastily, he shoved the worksheet he'd been working on into a corner of the table. Beneath the now slightly crumpled piece of paper were the various knick-knacks he'd emptied out of his pockets when he'd returned home - fragments of the journey he had undergone. Pieces of flint, rubbing against the wood of the table. Unidentifiable shards of blades and armour, originating from friend and foe alike. An unfinished necklace with rough edges, which he'd likely started before he'd left Iselia, but hadn't found the time to work on.

"Coming, Dad!" he called back as he scrambled out of his seat and down the stairs towards the warm smell of stew, the ghost banished for the time being.

~~~

Sheena stared at the horizon, painted streaks of orange from the rising sun. She remained silent as she began to head down the grassy hill, listening to the birdsong breaking out across the trees as the wind played with her hair.

It was hard to believe that it was all over. The Chosen had climbed the tower on her own before the sun had even made its presence known, and everything had come to an end just like that. It was almost anti-climactic after all the trials they'd had to complete. But it was reality. She'd already said goodbye to Lloyd and everyone else, now alone for the first time in a few months. Making her careful way through the Sylvaranti wilderness… It was just like the weeks she'd spent searching for the Chosen when she'd first forced her way into this foreign world.

She would have to find her own way home now and explain her actions to those waiting for her, who had depended on her to complete the mission entrusted to her to protect her own world. She'd betrayed them in the worst way possible.

She'd helped the Chosen because…

Feet catching on a stray rock, she stumbled for a moment before finding her balance, preventing an unlucky tumble that would have involved a lot of torn-up mud and grass.

She'd helped the Chosen because she'd been kind, a young girl not unlike herself. And Sheena had never liked taking an innocent life. Perhaps they would put her to death for that, but she would stand by her decision.

And the Chosen had promised she would help look for a solution once she became an Angel, hadn't she? Sheena wasn't sure how much faith she had in that yielding anything useful, but she supposed it didn't hurt to have some hope.

Rubbing at the bandage wrapped tightly around her arm, she began to undo it, fairly certain that the wound had healed by this point. Who had helped her dress this wound? Probably Raine, but the gentle hands that surfaced in her memory were too small.

It didn't really matter.

~~~

Gaze absorbed by the stars overhead, shining bright from their lonely homes far out in the universe, he almost missed the lone girl standing close to the edge of the cliff. If he hadn't spotted a hint of gold against the black canvas of the night sky, he would have walked back to the inn and turned in for the night none the wiser.

"Chosen…?" Lloyd mumbled, the cutting winds carrying away any weariness. The Chosen hadn't noticed him, her head tilted up towards the luminous moon hanging overhead, holding herself utterly still.

What was she doing out here? Professor Raine wouldn't have let her leave the inn this late, not when tomorrow was the most monumental day of their Journey, the culmination of all their efforts over the past months.

Tomorrow, the Chosen would climb the Tower of Salvation. She would accept the duty that had been her birthright, and she would ascend to Heaven and become an Angel.

Something ached in his chest, a chill running up and down his arms. He wanted to reach out towards her, to follow the siren song that had called to him since the start of this Journey. Every turn of her head, every sway of her hair, every lilt of her voice. They all formed the string that wrapped tight around his heart, tugging him inexorably towards her, no matter how little sense it made.

There would be no more chances to speak to her after this night.

"Chosen!" he called out, desperation driving him to take a step across the divide that he himself had drawn, knowing full well that it was not his place to stand so close to her.

The Chosen turned, eyes widening at the sight of him. Slivers of silver threaded through her hair - she seemed almost ethereal, like a simple touch would cause her to disappear. Remaining where she was, she watched him hesitantly approach, an unreadable expression on her face. Her continued silence told him her voice still hadn't returned to her.

Inches away from her, he paused, wavering over the last step he had to take.

Finally, he lurched forward, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder. Now that he was so close, the words he'd held on his tongue had evaporated. He must look a fool, simply standing here with nothing to say, his heart beating out of his chest. But she did not push him away, only laid a comforting hand over his own, an encouraging smile pulling her lips up. He wished, so desperately, to tuck the strand of hair that had fallen to rest on her shoulder behind her ear.

"I won't… I won't forget you. Even after you become an Angel," he blurted out, not knowing where the words originated from, simply that they were the exhalation of a declaration that had lost all semblance of reason. How could he forget her? He didn't think he could ever forget her presence, nor the effect she had on him. It felt right, however, like a weight off his aching heart.

Her lips parted, her gaze drifting away from him to stare into the far distance at something he would never be able to see. After a moment, her finger began to move over the back of his hand, writing out the words she couldn't say.

You're kind, Lloyd.

Disentangling herself from him, she gave him one final smile and headed towards the inn. She put each foot carefully in front of the other, as if on the lookout for any obstacle she might trip over. He had the irrational urge to rush forward and clear the path, to hold out his arms in preparation to catch her.

But there were no pebbles to trip over on the silent road back to the inn.

Frozen in place, he watched her back shrink into a minuscule dot before vanishing altogether.

~~~

Raine peered over the pages of her book at the Chosen, curled up on a bench next to the fireplace. She'd been there for the past half hour, staring intently out the window of the inn.

"Um, Professor Raine?" It appeared she'd finally worked up the courage to speak her mind. "Could I go see that doggie outside?"

That's what she'd been looking at? Raine did recall her interacting with the stray dogs at the previous towns - ruffling their fur, feeding them, letting them lick her hand.

"It's too late at night to go out now, Chosen. You can wait till morning."

The Chosen's face crumpled as she rose from her seat and began to make her way towards the stairs. "He looks so lonely…"

"We can look for the dog around town tomorrow. Together."

She really shouldn't offer. They weren't meant to spend much time here. This was just a stopping point to get a good night's rest, gather the necessary supplies, and continue to the next seal. Kratos would almost certainly protest - then again, he'd been quiet with the complaints for the past few weeks.

Beyond being the Chosen, the girl with a downcast expression before her was still her student. And given the fate that awaited her, gifting her a few hours to have fun and be a child seemed a small thing in comparison.

She recalled another thing about the Chosen and dogs, and hastily tacked on an additional statement. "I'm not helping you come up with a name, though."

The Chosen's head whipped around, shy delight slowly spreading across her face, like the sunrise peeking above the hills. She grinned, beginning to skip up the stairs, energy returning with each spring of her feet."Thank you so much, Professor Raine!"

~~~

Lloyd surfaced from the murky waters of a dream, lying awake, staring at the night sky. Moments from it brushed over him like a gentle wave, receding far too soon. He'd been holding someone's hand, soft and warm, as they traced shapes on his palm - now it was nothing more than foam between his fingers.

Pulling himself up, he locked gazes with the girl across the smoking campfire and remembered why he'd awoken. It was his turn to take over the watch.

"Co…" The word died on his tongue, and he scrunched his eyebrows, casting desperately into his mind in an attempt to remember what he'd been about to say. Time seemed to move strangely, in rhythm with the flickering shadows dancing across her face. His fingers dug into the ground, unearthing dirt that was still damp from the day's drizzle.

Shaking his head, the thought dropped out of his head entirely, scattering apart under the distant light of the stars.

"It's my turn for the night watch, Chosen. You can get some rest," he mumbled, knowing she had to be tired.

Her gaze dropped to the wavering flames, shadows covering even more of her face, shrouding her expression in darkness. Giving a small nod, she turned her back to him. It marked the end of their conversation, like the abrupt slam of a door.

Settling down for the hours ahead of him, he stretched his arms - only to find that he had his carving knife gripped in his hand. Why? He wasn't working on anything at the moment.

Furiously scrubbing the sleep from his eyes, he slipped it back into his pockets.

He couldn't afford to have sleep steal him away again.

~~~

Without opening his eyes, Kratos knew what the Chosen was doing, seated by the campfire. The scratch of a pencil filled his ears, as it had for the past few nights. In the dead of night, when no one else was awake, she would take to manically scribbling on a piece of paper, biting at her lip until a tiny stream of red ran down her chin.

What she wrote, he wasn't privy to. He didn't need to peek over her shoulder to know the contents - it was the same pattern he'd seen, time and time again, over the long millennia. Every child he'd delivered to their death had done the same at this point of the Journey, when those who'd once been close enough to share secrets with stared at them like a stranger, seeing only a silent figure of salvation.

Some would attempt to remind their companions of memories that were dissolving, slamming their heads in vain against a wall. Others did what Colette was doing now - silently recording their memories in any manner possible so they could have tangible proof to defend against the doubtful questions beginning their slow creep into their minds. All of them would have their hearts broken, time and time again, no matter how much they begged and pleaded.

No longer a person with their own dreams, hopes and wishes, they would desperately hold their memories close. And on lonely nights as reality eroded around them, they would try to thaw the frost with the imprint of the love they had once cradled in their hands.

A cold breeze rustled the leaves above his head as he watched the Chosen, a familiar guilt swimming to the surface from where it had dwelt, always lurking.

Who had he and Yuan truly been protecting all those centuries ago? The boy who had already shattered, or themselves, who'd been unable to protect Martel's dream?

"I just…" Martel's hands trembled in his as he gently cleaned the blood off with a cloth that was quickly becoming a muddy brown. They'd hastily put quite some distance between themselves and the scene of the carnage, but she was looking straight through him at this very moment, likely still seeing the bodies of the bandits that had been rendered unrecognisable by the power of her light magic. They had committed the gravest crime of all - daring to threaten her little brother's life.

"I just want him to grow up in a world without any more heartbreak."

A world without heartbreak. He supposed Mithos had accomplished his sister's dream - if he could even still call it that, in its current distorted shape. What was the pain of one child over the span of a few years compared to four millennia worth of grief? When even that pain vanished in the shade of a silent death?

At the end of this winding road, there would be none of the aggrieved cries that had spilt from Mithos as he knelt next to his sister's bloody body. The only small mercy was that Lloyd would be spared from heartbreak. Grief, after all, walked hand-in-hand with memories of joy. Without one, the other could not exist. He would only be left with a hollow in his heart that he couldn't name.

Yet all that paled at the stark silhouette of Colette in the moonlight, hunched over and trembling, young and lost. Another grieving child in a long line of them.

Another memory he would learn to carry.

~~~

"Here, Colette!" Lloyd placed the bowl of greens in Colette's waiting hand, perching next to her on the same boulder so they could enjoy dinner together, shoulder pressed to shoulder.

"Thanks!" she chirped as he began to dig into the bowl, famished after an entire day of trekking and the occasional battle against enemies that blocked their way. The food smelled delicious - vegetables stir-fried by Sheena in a style she had proudly said was native to her hometown. He'd never known a meal made just out of greens could taste this good. Dad had never believed in any vegetables other than the good old potato, sliced into thick cubes and tossed into stew.

After wolfing down the food for a minute or two, he realised that there was no movement next to him.

"Colette…?" He set down the bowl, turning to her in confusion to find that she had barely moved. She was staring into the bowl, utensils clutched in raised hand, like she'd made to take her first bite and turned to stone in the process. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Oh, it's nothing!" she cried out, picking the bowl up and beginning to eat. Still, she was sluggish, her lips lifting in a dull facsimile of her usual smile. He frowned, scrutinising the contents. Spinach, radish, green peppers… There was a sense of wrongness creeping on him, gnawing at a corner of his mind as he swept his gaze over the bowl again and again. It kept catching on the patch of green peppers, like there was something terribly offensive about the vegetable. But what was…

"I'm so sorry! It completely slipped my mind." The apologies spilt from him like weighted rocks, endlessly tumbling into a bottomless canyon. He snatched the bowl from her hands, frantically scooping the green peppers into his own bowl.

How in the world had he managed to forget? He'd been nicking the green peppers from her school lunches for years! They had always traded; her hand quickly plucking all the tomatoes from his meal.

"I'm sorry." The need to apologise again rose within him, something panicked and wild. "I must be too tired…" They had travelled on foot for quite a few uninterrupted hours, and had made camp while dragging their feet in the mud. "I should have told Sheena before she started."

"It's okay, Lloyd. It was nothing more than a simple mistake." She accepted the bowl back with a nod and a grateful smile, dipping her head and beginning to eat without another word out of her mouth.

He hunched down next to her, staring at the pile of green peppers in his bowl, a sense of disquiet taking root in his chest.

~~~

"Still working on your birthday present?" Genis asked, crouching down next to Lloyd, whom he'd found hiding beneath a tree.

Lloyd scowled, one hand gripping his trusty carving knife, the other holding up the piece of wood whose rough shape he was refining.

"There isn't that much time to do this at night. You know that, right?" he grumbled, hands never pausing.

"You wouldn't need to rush if you'd just started earlier. I -"

Genis cut off, frowning, feeling like he'd just missed a step like he sometimes did rushing up the staircase to Lloyd's room, teetering on the edge of a fall. What had he given Colette for her birthday?

"Yes, I know. You started testing out cookie recipes two weeks beforehand. You don't have to keep reminding me!" Lloyd continued his statement without skipping a beat, pulling Genis back onto the steps with an easy hand, not having noticed his slip-up. Punching him lightly in the shoulder, he made shooing motions with his other hand, scowl breaking into a cheeky grin. "Now leave me in peace."

Right. He'd baked her cookies. He could remember the excitement on her face when she'd accepted the paper bag, the crunch as she'd sampled her first cookie, the praises she'd sung.

"I'll leave you to it." He rose to his feet, brushing dirt off his clothes. "Don't stay up too late, or either Sis or Kratos will have your head!"

"Yeah, yeah!"

~~~

"Don't you think it's odd?" Genis had asked, swinging his legs from his perch on a felled log, moments before he'd needed to head home to deal with dinner before Raine decided to step in. "We have the records of so many Chosens, even some of the ones that failed. Yet there's no mention of any of their names or even what they really looked like."

"Some memories can be painful," Colette had murmured, gazing at the flowers surrounding them, her fingers smoothing over their petals - yellow, white, yellow, white. "Maybe they just wanted to forget."

Genis had frowned, then, seemingly wanting to interject, but the threat of Raine's cooking was too dire, and he'd beat a hasty retreat.

Lloyd could barely string a thought together, head heavy from the muggy heat. Sometime after Genis had left, he'd ended up with his head pillowed on Colette's lap. Her gentle hand running through his hair was beginning to lull him into the soft arms of sleep, yet his mind couldn't help but return to their previous conversation.

She was staring at the sky, her golden hair curtaining her face so he couldn't make out her expression. Somehow, even though she was close enough for him to reach out and bundle her in his arms, she seemed miles away. As far as the migratory birds that were nothing more than specks on the horizon, and who would drift further away still, vanishing into the setting sun.

"I'm going to go with you," he declared with every bit of bravado contained in his lungs, his words slurring slightly with fatigue. That startled her enough for her to whip her head around, staring at him with wide eyes.

"But Lloyd, it's dangerous," she protested, gripping his hand tightly.

"I know. That's why I'll protect you, no matter where you go." Reaching out like it was second nature, he tucked the strand of hair that always, always came loose behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on skin that slowly flushed pink.

Gently, she rubbed her thumb against his palm, a small smile lighting up her face. "I know you will, Lloyd."

He matched her smile as she went back to watching the birds, a breeze starting to blow, sending daisies to catch in the swinging strands of her hair. Sleep truly was beginning to pull at him now, his eyelids heavy.

"And even if you become an angel, I won't ever forget you."

How could he? It was simply impossible.

On this perfect summer day, where nothing could go wrong, and the prospect of the Journey of Regeneration was still far away, she did not turn back to face him. All he could see was her back, silhouetted by the sunset.

Her parents had tried to convince her to spend her time reading, playing with the other children, or tending to the garden. When that had failed, they had once dragged her by the hair back to their cosy little house in this quaint little town. But the next day, she had found her way right back, ignoring the bruise that still flowered on her arm. They had sighed and declared her a lost cause, deciding to leave her to her own devices. Now, whenever she was home, silence would descend, tense as she glided through the kitchen like a ghost, her mother giving her a wide berth with an angry flick of her wrist.

The house was nice and warm. Her parents had been kind and loving, initially. The town was beautiful, with picturesque views of the mountain. Everything was perfect, and yet she couldn't resist the thread tied around her heart that tugged in the direction of the forest. It was almost like a siren song, even though the forest itself was unnaturally quiet. No scurrying of critters, no chirping of birds, no croaking of frogs.

She spent more time out of her house than in it, spending her nights sleeping under the stars on hay. She was alone more often than not. The adults avoided her like the plague, whispers and rumours following her like a thorny cloak. The other children would sneak closer and then run away giggling when they were spotted, somewhat heeding their parents' hissed instructions to stay far from the strange girl who seemed to belong more to the forest than to the town.

The forest seemed to whisper to her, calling out with open arms to embrace her. Little voices crawling into her ear, inviting her to become part of the underbrush. To slither with the snakes, tasting the air with an outstretched tongue. To crawl with the spiders up the trunks of trees to feel the sun's rays. To flap her wings with the birds and ride the currents of freedom.

Her gaze could pierce through the all-encompassing darkness, picking out patches of dirt, creeping roots, and fallen branches. This was what she did, day after day. And day after day, there was nothing to see.

Until a pair of blue eyes stared back.

~~~

Luna spent her days helping the faeries. Even though her ears were not pointed like the rest, and she could not draw the magic of the forest around herself, she was perfectly capable of helping with the menial tasks. She could weave the baskets, pick the fruits, and stir the cauldrons, even if she couldn't do it as fast or as gracefully as the other faerie children.

She understood her status as a changeling - a result of a snap decision the family that had taken her had committed to because they thought it would be fun. Her name was a remnant of the night she had been stolen away beneath the full moon, leaving only an open window and her true parents none the wiser. The other children teased her endlessly about her origin, though always in a roundabout way. Even though they couldn't utter a single lie, they had already mastered the skill of talking circles around her. They would compliment her quickly increasing height with nasty grins full of fangs, subtly pointing out how fast she was changing, how fast she was maturing. The sharpened words often left her holding back tears, aggressively rubbing them away when no one was watching. She didn't want to leave everyone behind. More than that, she didn't want to be left behind.

They never let her accompany them to anything. Not the monthly full moon rituals, nor the coming-of-spring dance. They giggled and said she couldn't weave as fast as them. She couldn't even charm. What use would she be if they invited her?

As the decades passed, she would be so easily forgotten until no one remembered that a young girl named Luna had ever existed.

Sometimes, she wondered if there was any point in staying here. What if she ran off to the human town next to the forest, to be with people who were like her? Any attempt to escape to the human town, however, would result in her being slain before she could even raise a finger, her blood used to fill the cauldrons. While she was still useful, she would be put to work. Once she was a threat, she would be eliminated.

It was nothing more than a little daydream that she would never go through with. She loved the forest too much to leave. The dew that glittered with starlight after a long night, clinging to the giant mushrooms. The plants with flowers that bloomed in the darkness, glowing a luminous blue. The shy spirits that flitted about in the day as spheres of coloured light, sometimes bold enough to land on her open palm.

But still, she would sometimes be curious about what it would be like to live in the town. So she would wander close to the edge of the forest, peeking into the lives of the human townspeople and their curious day-to-day. Many times, she would spot her doppelganger sitting on the border fence with her legs crossed, staring up at the sky - the girl who had snatched her true name and left her with nothing but the moon for company.

It was like staring into a mirror. Same blue eyes, same golden hair, swaying gently in the wind. But with some of the essence of the forest within her, Luna could spot the true girl hovering behind the glamour that sought to disguise her in hostile territory - piercing purple eyes and hair of the same colour, with pointed ears indicating her true heritage.

What was her life like? Was she happy? Was she accepted?

Some time in the future, she might remember where she came from and return to claim her birthright.

What would happen to Luna then?

Pondering that question, she observed her other half.

Until those purple eyes met hers.

~~~

In an instant, Eto had pushed herself off the fence and was crashing through the underbrush, racing after the traces of gold that kept vanishing into the shadows. The other girl was masterful at slipping away, her feetfall barely making any noise as she deftly avoided piles of leaves and dried twigs.

But Eto, despite never having stepped foot in the forest, found that her feet were falling into a rhythm, following the barely visible footprints left behind by her counterpart. The forest was shimmering around her, the illusion of darkness falling away as she plunged through bright landscapes with flowers that bloomed a hundred colours. She paid them no mind, continuing her pursuit through this strange wonderland.

An idea formed in her head, a pulse echoing in her blood. A truth she had already suspected long ago.

And finally, she caught the hand of the other girl over a rushing river, jerking her back and forcing her to turn.

It was like looking into a mirror - the other girl had the same face, the same eyes, the same hair. She was still, her chest barely rising and falling, as Eto reached out a hand. As if drawn in by a strange spell, the other girl reached out as well, until they had interlaced their fingers and pulled each other closer, separated only by the water rushing between their feet.

"Hello, sister," Eto mumbled.

~~~

Eto shifted in the bed at the creak of the window opening, another person slipping into the blankets next to her.

"Hello, Luna," the familiar presence whispered.

"Eto" grinned, turning to face her other half and dropping the act. Eto smirked back, her glamour falling away to reveal her true features. In the safety of the darkness, they could both be their true selves, not needing to hide from anyone.

"How was it?" Luna asked, snuggling closer to the girl she could only describe as a twin. The word failed to capture the depth of their bond - they would each raze the world to ashes to ensure no harm came to the other. They were the only ones who knew the true faces of the other, and they would take each other's secrets to the grave. In this whole wide world, Eto was the only one Luna could trust fully. The faeries cared for neither of them, and the humans would turn on them the moment they suspected the truth.

"Great! No one suspected a thing." Eto flung an arm around her.

Since the moment they had come face-to-face in the forest, they'd been taking turns living each other's lives. They were, after all, identical when Eto's glamour was up. Now that she had seen through it, she could twist and weave the misty magic with her own fingers whenever she needed to, masking her figure with whatever image she wanted.

Today was meant to be another handover. But Luna had something else to say.

"I heard something today," she whispered, squeezing Eto's hand. "A rumour of a fountain deep in the land of the Fae. A fountain that can grant a single wish to anyone daring enough to reach it."

Eto shivered. She knew why Luna had brought it up. Their respective lifespans were one of the only points of contention between them - Luna had tried to bring it up once, and she had shut the discussion down in tears, heart tight in her chest. Luna would die long before she would, and she could not stand the idea. Soon, she would stop feeling the hands of time, while Luna continued to race ahead.

But the Fae always told stories about how to grant one's wishes mockingly, for anyone foolish enough to chase after a hopeless fantasy would suffer a terrible death. The journey was almost always impossible, filled to the brim with dangerous traps and realistic illusions that lured people to their demise.

More than likely, they would both die in the attempt. But would that be so horrible? To die hand-in-hand, knowing they were loved by the other and had perished trying to stay together for their own eternity?

"We'll talk about it tomorrow. For tonight, can we just go to bed?"

And pretend that everything will be alright?

"Alright," Luna whispered softly, her breath tickling her neck as she burrowed into the pillow.

Gazing upon her slumbering sister, Eto drifted into peaceful dreams.

~~~

At the centre of the chaos was Nonoka, sat comfortably in her Husk, blue bleeding freely from it and surging to smother the glittering stars and galaxies, to snuff out life without a second thought, like her hands had already done thousands of times before a mass of blue had clawed its way out of her mortal shell. How ironic that the only reason Mitsuko had been ordered to engage was that the death wasn't targeted. A weapon that was under nobody's control needed to be put down.

As she raced to engage her, Nonoka only giggled, her single visible eye containing nothing but glee. She manoeuvred her Husk with the masterful grace that the Royals Commune had come to expect from their best Runner. Yet she did nothing but dodge Mitsuko's attacks, lightly grazing Mitsuko's Husk with laughably weak retaliations. All the while, tiny wisps of blue curled and tapped playfully at the glass of her cockpit.

Nonoka was messing with her - she could have torn through her like paper in seconds, like she had done to countless enemy soldiers over the years that had been far more experienced than her, a mere Info Class soldier. She hadn't taken advantage of any of the rookie mistakes Mitsuko had made due to her trembling hands as she was met with the most horrifying sight of her life, worse even than the piles upon piles of bodies she had come across in her short lifetime, her fear echoing in her own ears.

Just like all the times they had clashed in the practice room, she was toying with her prey. And like always, it infuriated her, even as she couldn't tear her gaze away. Nonoka had always been impossible to look away from on the battlefield, quick as lightning and possessing the ferocity of thunder, packaged into a lithe dance that drew attention away from even the cosmos. Now, though, the sight of her in motion was undeniably beautiful, a cloak of blue flaring behind her with each twist and turn. Nausea groaned in her stomach and goosebumps raised across her skin, but she wanted to stare at Nonoka forever.

There was a familiar emotion stirring within her, the same fluttering she felt in her stomach whenever Nonoka got close in the dorms, wrapping her arms around her and resting her chin on her shoulder. An emotion she couldn't afford to focus on - one she should have never felt in the first place. She had hated Nonoka when the Runner first joined them. A born genius that had all the makings of an ace Runner, having transferred from the prestigious Academy by choice. She had likely never known anything but a cushy life, and didn't even comprehend the horror of what her hands wrought. An entire world above Mitsuko, an unwanted orphan who had been offered like a sacrifice from a trampled-over commune, who could only make the best of the opportunity that had been "gifted" to her. Nonoka had everything she had always coveted and yet would never have. But Nonoka had refused to leave her alone, constantly jogging after her to join her for meals, for training, for briefings, no matter how much she sped up to leave her behind. Until somehow she had wormed her way into Mitsuko's heart.

She had committed the cardinal sin of an expendable child soldier. There was no space in her life for affection or joy like all the other normal children, who slept in warm beds with parents who protected them from the monsters under the bed, who would never watch bloodied children beg for their lives. She existed to protect those children from the nightmares she experienced every week.

Love was a distraction. That had been drilled into her head from the very beginning. She would never be anything more than a soldier. She shouldn't want to hold Nonoka's hand, to stroke her hair as she fell asleep after a long movie marathon night, to listen to her ramble on about the beautiful blue light only she could see. She shouldn't have promised her she'd do her best to help Nonoka find it.

Love was wrong. She was wrong, and that was why she was weak.

Look at where that weakness had led her; had led them all. To ruin.

Spotting an opening, she lunged forward with a desperate cry, weapon raised to run her closest friend through. She could only pray for a quick, clean blow that wouldn't make Nonoka suffer.

Doing this was the right thing. It was protecting not just the Royals Commune, but all the people who still survived in this cold, cruel universe. It would ensure everyone would continue to live another day, waking up to see the cold nebular bodies that comprised the entirety of their world, dirt and soil being bygones of a lost time. There would at least be that hollow joy to cling onto once Nonoka was gone from her life.

"Why do you always look so far into the distance, towards something I cannot see? Don't go where I can't follow!" How many times had she wanted to grab her hand and plead with her? Not to leave, to a better place that she would never know.

"You idiot, Nonoka," she whispered, tears falling from beneath closed eyelids as she expected to feel the resistance of metal giving way.

There was only silence, in the middle of dead space.

Her eyes snapped open when she found that her Husk was no longer responding to her controls. Nonoka was nowhere to be seen. Her Coda, which had been sitting dead atop the dashboard, had now begun to glow an eerie blue, bathing her face in light. The small amount of wisps had become in an instant like a veritable storm, slamming repeatedly against the glass and forcing cracks to form. Breath coming faster and faster, she attempted to reach for the eject button, willing to risk the cold void of space, but found that her limbs were frozen.

And from the cracking stars, Nonoka descended, a vengeful angel with writhing wings of blue. The mad grin that had danced on her lips before had been wiped clean, leaving a gentle smile on her face as she reached for Mitsuko in her Husk.

A cry burst from her as her cockpit exploded into a rain of glass from the weight of the horde of blue. Nonoka was no longer holding back; that much was clear. Mitsuko had only seen blurry footage - anyone who had gotten too close to Nonoka had not returned to tell the tale. She had never borne the full brunt of Nonoka's presence, overwhelming all else with pure terror, screaming full force in her eardrums.

Nonoka's wings grew larger and larger, wrapping around her like a large cocoon whose walls undulated, shielding her from the perils of space and filling her vision with an ocean of blue. Mitsuko continued to struggle even as she knew it was futile, the terror pressing deeper and strangling her heart.

Nonoka shushed her with a finger to her lips, the blue-tipped digit moving up to press against her forehead.

a field of flowers

the warmth of the sun

the soft embrace of

blue

blue

blue

blue

blue

Her body trembled, tears slipping from her unseeing eyes. Images flashed in her mind only to be replaced by another just as quickly, thoughts slipping away from her like water. The blue was everywhere. It was everything. Her entire world, her entire being. Cloyingly warm, it wriggled further into her mind - even if she wanted to flinch away from it, there was only it to cling to. All there was to do was sink further and further into its embrace.

Where was she? It felt like she was someplace entirely out of this world, gazing upon the beauty that Nonoka had always gushed about. Places she had only ever read about in novels that Nonoka had passed to her, relics of a time that humanity insisted on racing away from. Nonoka could turn the words on those pages into reality with nothing more than a snap of her fingers. She was a butterfly who had never been fated to be chained to this mortal realm, and she had made the world her chrysalis. And with her metamorphosis, so too would all things in this world achieve rebirth.

This was wrong. A small part of her continued to protest, wanting her to curl into a ball and disappear. She sobbed, reaching out blindly for a familiar hand to anchor her.

"I have you." Fingers threaded through hers, Mitsuko's vision focusing as the voice of the one she loved reached her ear. Nonoka came into view, tucking a stray strand of blue hair behind her ear. The touch was heartbreakingly tender, and she leaned into it, eyelids fluttering shut. "I hear your wish. It'll be okay, Mitsuko." Nonoka's voice lulled over her, calming her heart to a steady tempo.

Like this, with Nonoka draped over her, she could imagine that they were back in their dormitories, having stumbled there after a mission, utterly exhausted. She could believe that everything would be alright.

She was awake now, sitting on the ground with her back pressed against stone, its roughness unable to penetrate the veil of death that clung to her like a second skin, wrapped around her so tightly that it threatened to suffocate her. Her fingers dragged uselessly through the small amounts of grass that still grew between the gravestones in this rundown cemetery. The brittle strands were a sickly yellow, protruding from dirt that was as hard as stone.

Above her, the sky was dark, murky blues threaded through with streaks of grey clouds. It had been this way for as long as she had been awake, angry thunder occasionally flashing to announce heaven's displeasure.

At this very moment, it took every bit of the energy she had to grasp onto the peeling corners of her soul and forcefully hold them together. Even then, it felt like an effort performed in vain - she lost more of herself with every second that passed, her very essence spilling through the widening cracks in her soul.

She had crossed the boundary between the living and the dead, never able to return. That was all she remembered for certain. Who she had been, the dreams she had cradled in her palms, the people she had held close to her heart… All of that had vanished with the wind. She didn't even know her own name.

Why did she have to stay here, in this world that was taking its final, gasping breaths? She couldn't even recall that. The faint memories she could dig up were nothing more than sensations. Shapes traced on the back of her hand. A wide grin with a cheeky flash of teeth. Mischief-filled laughter, floating on a breeze.

She didn't hold the answer. Yet even on the worst of days, when it felt like her very soul was going to rip itself apart into shreds and it would be far easier to simply let herself fade, she found the tiniest bit of strength to hold on.

Waiting, waiting, forever waiting…

~~~

Lloyd coughed, leaning his weight against one of his swords, wedged between two unevenly paved stones, the other lying discarded a few feet away. A broken rib scraped painfully against his side, just another part of the patchwork of injuries that littered his body. Everything hurt in a litany of stabbing pains and throbbing aches, his wings hanging limply behind him as he carelessly scrubbed red from his chin. By his feet were more haphazard splatters of fresh red, stark against the grey.

"You're an idiot," Genis bluntly told him, teeth gritted as he sat by him, taking care not to jostle him.

Croaking out an apology, Lloyd weakly raised his head to look at Raine, standing close by, staff dangling loosely from her fingers. She made no attempt to raise it. She, of all people, would know a lost cause when she saw one.

"…You were saying your goodbyes, weren't you, Professor Raine?" When she had pulled him aside before they entered, and talked to him alone, her voice firm but guiding.

Never once averting her gaze, she knelt on the cold stone floor, laying a hand on his shoulder. "There was no guarantee any of us would have lived to tell the tale. And… We both know you would have done anything to make her dream a reality."

A world where everyone can live happily and peacefully, without needing to spend each and every second fighting for their very right to existence. A world where people can look at each other without hatred. That was the world Colette had dreamed of once, wishing night after sleepless night on the stars that used to twinkle in the sky.

A world he had given everything to bring to fruition, even knowing he wouldn't see it firsthand.

"You still know me so well, Professor." He could only speak in rasps now, interspersed with coughs, the corners of his vision beginning to blur as the world lost its colour. The pain was starting to meld together into a buzzing numbness, his head drooping towards his chest.

"Idiot," Genis bit out again without any heat in his voice, his arms, now long and lanky, pulling Lloyd into a gentle embrace, still paying careful attention to avoid his wounds as best as possible. Tears fell, staining his shoulder with the regrets of a childhood left behind long ago.

When had Genis gotten so tall? Where had all the time gone, decade upon decade, until the day came that he'd looked in the mirror and realised he was never meant to live this long? His reflection had haunted him - frozen in time, unable to leave a past that had chained its shackles around him even as the memories yellowed and faded.

The realisation that Colette had never been given the chance to even have that revelation had stabbed straight into his heart like a stray shard of glass. She had been taken before even that could set in, sacrificed for a hollow cause that was rotten at its very core.

He supposed now the world was righting itself by ridding the aberration. Yet he couldn't feel an ounce of sadness or terror. These past few months had been a whirlwind of events that he had trouble remembering in detail, and it had all begun at the top of the Tower of Salvation, when the cotton that had been pulled over their eyes all their lives was burned to a crisp. He had once thought himself incapable of anger anymore, the fire that had seared at his heart after Colette's death having long since turned into dead ashes. Yet learning the truth had proven him wrong. To realise, only now, that she'd died on a useless quest… It had brought the flames back to life, fanning them into a raging inferno.

Right now, he was simply glad that he could spend his final moments in the company of those he held dear.

"Tell the others that I'm… Sorry…"

Sweet Hoppe, who had instantly dropped to her knees by his side once the final battle was over, trying her best to channel as much of her healing magic as possible. No matter how many she had been unable to save, she was unwilling to give up, never letting her spirit be broken.

Loyal Ilot, who would always be Hoppe's stalwart shield, supporting her in everything she did. Always running to her aid, no matter how far she may be or how many impossible walls she had to breach to get there.

Fiery Ophelia, who refused to accept her fate of being a sacrificial sheep. Always with a destination in mind, incapable of stopping in her tracks for even a moment, even when her entire worldview had been shattered by the callous words of a cold angel.

He had sent them all ahead, telling them to ensure that the seed that would nurture the future of this world bloomed.

Every time he looked at them, it was hard to believe how far they'd come. He could still see the two half-elf children who had barely reached his waist, and the terrified, yet still defiant child who had been sent to die.

Glancing up, he couldn't help but smile. Up here, floating in the endless depths of space, the stars were visible in a way they hadn't been for decades. He'd taught so many to Colette on nights when they'd lain on the rooftops together, his fingers wrapped gently around her wrist to guide her in finding them. He slowly traced the shape of Canis Major, sparkling so far away. She'd proclaimed it her favourite, even though she couldn't really make out the dog in the twinkling lights.

Strange, that he could still remember random little details so clearly, when everything else had faded.

"Say hi to her for me, will you?" Genis mumbled into his shoulder.

I will.

But he no longer had the strength to force those words out of his throat.

His eyelids slid shut, and the world went dark.

~~~

Dawn seemed to arrive in a moment, like a wave rushing over a wall. Light flooded from the horizon, blinding her with white for a moment. With it came almost an explosion of energy, bursts of stardust that felt like fresh air filling her lungs again, finally lifting the heavy weight that had been her stone to carry.

With her next inhale came glittering memories. An entire deluge, unearthed from the century of rot that had befallen them.

Memories of this world, flawed but beautiful.

Memories of the companions that had aided her every step of the way, whom she had never had the chance to thank.

Memories of a boy that she had loved, and still did, a boy she would have done anything to protect.

With her next exhale, she breathed out a name.

~~~

Leaves rustled. Rays of sunlight warmed his skin. Fresh air soothed his lungs.

Lloyd opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a woman, seated tranquilly on a stump with a staff in hand. Long green hair swayed gently in the wind, a soft smile playing on her lips.

It took no time at all to place who she was. He'd seen her in the stained glass of churches across both Sylvarant and Tethe'alla countless times.

"Martel?" he coughed as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Grass brushed his legs, lush green trees surrounding him, gaps between their branches showing an azure sky with lazy clouds drifting across it, passing a bright, cheery sun.

He'd somehow found himself in a clearing. Before he could ask Martel what she was doing here, or how, he paused, catching sight of the gigantic tree behind her. Its trunk was massive, its bark aged, its branches reaching towards the heavens.

This, too, was easy to place.

The World Tree seemed to pulse with a calming aura, one that melted the tension in his shoulders and made all the questions on the tip of his tongue dissipate. He knew now why he was here - to finally be able to rest, together with thousands of other souls, in the embrace of the tree.

"Someone's been waiting to see you," Martel said, and with his next blink, she had vanished from his vision, like she had never been there at all.

There was the gentle call of his name, like a soothing whisper in his ear. Arms wrapped around him, strands of golden hair falling to float in his view, waving in the breeze. A familiar weight pressed against his back, her chin coming to rest atop his shoulder.

He no longer dreamed of blood-soaked fingers and a grimace frozen in death, of words dripping in poison thrown at him by a wraith conjured by his own grief-stricken mind. But so too had it been a long time since he remembered the exact shade of blue her eyes were, or the sound of her voice. Those memories had faded with the cruel passage of time, as he lost more and more of her with each year that passed.

Turning to face the girl he loved and would always love, no matter how many centuries separated them, he wondered how he could have ever forgotten. The vivid blue of her eyes, the same shade as the summer sky they had once run beneath. Her voice, like the tinkling of bells. Her sweet smile, bright as the sun.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting for so long," he choked out through the tears that had begun to fall, unbidden, a waterfall finally breaking free from its constraints. Colette tenderly wiped them away, smile never fading.

"It wasn't that long of a wait, silly."

Hands trembling, he reached out to touch her cheek, still unable to believe that she was before him. But she was no phantasm, warm to the touch as she leaned into his palm, sighing contentedly.

"If I had just… Managed to do more back then -"

It was an old hurt, a thought that he'd spent so much of his time turning over in his mind. If he had just done this, or that. Would anything have changed? Would he have been able to prevent the fate that awaited them at the end of the road? Could he have made it so no one had to suffer for so long under the injustices of this world?

A finger pressed to his lips, cutting him off. "You've always had such a big heart, Lloyd. But thinking about what you could have changed… It's nothing more than an impossible dream. It's all alright now, isn't it?"

With a tiny chuckle, he nodded. There was no use contemplating such matters anymore. His heart was finally peaceful, because she was here, next to him.

Threading her fingers through his, she pulled him to his feet, steadying him when he stumbled. Without any prompting, they took a step towards the World Tree, its bark humming with the song of a thousand souls.

Colette hadn't changed a bit since their ill-fated journey. He had aged a few years before time had frozen for him, but he could still be mistaken for that naive 17-year-old boy who had raced out of Iselia, determined to catch up. It almost felt like no time at all had passed since that final night in the town they had called home, when really, the world had just left them behind a long time ago.

Laying a hand on the trunk, Colette gazed up at the tree's branches. "You know, now that the new World Tree has sprouted, everyone can move on to a brand new world. A happier one, hopefully. But I'll always fondly remember the world we came from."

Mornings spent sneaking Colette out of yet another lesson, running as fast as they could from fuming priests. Afternoons spent kicking their feet in the stream, eating from biscuits with crumbs sticking to their chins. Evenings spent enjoying a warm dinner next to the blazing fireplace, Dad chortling as he ruffled both of their hair. Nights spent lazing beneath the stars, mouthing their names and giggling when they attempted to make out their shape.

Even among the terrible, there had always been the good, glimmering like a diamond in the dirt. And they would carry those memories forever, no matter if everyone else chose to forget.

"Genis says hi." He grinned at her.

"I guess we'll just have to patiently wait for him." She grinned back as he placed his hand next to hers on the trunk, their other hands still wrapped together as the wood seemed to warp.

"The dinner bell announces the beginning of the meal," she said in her lilting voice, similar to a beautiful bird trapped in a cage. Her movements were graceful as she steered him towards one of the chairs, her skirts swaying in her wake. "You should be in your seat before it rings. It would be rude to keep any guests waiting."

The words dripped in sweetness, draping onto his back like the tickle of her hair against his neck as she leaned over him.

This wasn't a suggestion.

"You wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you, Zelos?"

"Yes, mother," he muttered, pulling the chair out to sit down carefully, folding his hands neatly in his lap, gaze boring a hole in the fancy tablecloth.

His feet didn't even reach the carpeted floor, the table seemingly infinitely long compared to his tiny stature. It was so empty, occupied by just him.

"Good boy," she mumbled absent-mindedly, her gaze having already left him. She drifted to a seat on the opposite side of the table, and there she sat, staring over his head as they both waited for the servants to deliver the plates of food from the kitchen. Despite the short distance that could be bridged by just stretching his hand out to take his mother's, he kept his hands securely in his lap.

As the servants streamed in, the bell continued to gently swing in the corner of his vision. It was strange that such a tiny instrument, nothing like the humongous bell that hung in the Church, could produce such a clear sound.

So began yet another silent dinner, where no sound would ring out but the gentle scratching of silverware against expensive porcelain plates, the seat at the head of the table vacant as it always was.

~~~

"You have to come down with me, Seles. It's time for dinner," he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. He couldn't afford to raise his voice, not with the possibility of his mother overhearing him as she descended the stairs heading towards the dining room. Yelling wasn't proper - Seles had gotten multiple vicious tongue-lashings today for daring to raise her voice within the halls of the manor. Technically, she was a guest, invited in by their father, but his mother had made it very clear that she was to abide by the rules of the household during the time she was here. It's not like their father was here to enforce anything he said. He was never in the house.

Just this morning, his mother had berated Seles countless times over the smallest of transgressions, to the point that his little sister had retreated into her room, tears threatening to fall that she had angrily rubbed away.

His little sister frowned, barely lifting her head from the book she was buried in to shoot him a tiny glare. She was nose-deep in a fairytale about a princess trapped in a tower all her life, who had finally earned her freedom through the gift of a sympathetic witch. He could remember falling into the very same pages, imagining the princess escaping the stifling life she had endured all alone, shattering the chains that had held her in place and gaining the ability to soar through the azure skies on wings crafted from twilight. It was a wonderful fantasy to escape into - a glimpse of a warm dream that he might one day be able to experience. He'd gifted the book to Seles as he thought she might enjoy it. She did, but perhaps a bit too much.

"Please, Seles," he insisted, extracting the book from her hands with a tiny struggle as her small fingers refused to let go.

"Why?" she grumbled, pouting, but she still took his hand and followed him to the door.

"We can't be later than the dinner bell," he explained, guiding her down the hallway. Their footsteps were muffled on the carpeted floor, and they crept through the manor like ghosts, unseen. "It would be rude."

He'd carved the very timing onto his soul, learning to drop everything ten minutes beforehand so he could show up with not a hair out of place. If he did everything perfectly, then his mother would at least look at him with a small smile on her face before she went back to looking straight through him. Nothing was worse than facing her disapproval - it made him feel tiny, smaller than he already was.

"But that's dumb," she insisted, squeezing his hand. "That's not how it works at home! When it's time for dinner, Mother just comes to get me! Sometimes she even brings the bread up to my room, and we eat it together."

She explained it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He'd never heard of having only bread for dinner. Neither had he known one could even eat outside the dining room. What would that experience be like?

Would it be warmer than cold silver and a watchful glare whenever he so much as touched the wrong cutlery?

"I've never been late, and I don't plan to ever be," he insisted with no small amount of pride. The words tasted strangely like ash against his tongue.

"I still think it's dumb, but alright. If you say so." Seles cocked her head but didn't complain any further, gripping his hand just a tiny bit tighter as they entered the frigid dining room.

The evening passed in deathly silence, his mother's knuckles white against the cutlery.

~~~

He would miss the dinner bell only once, on a day when snow fell to cover Meltokio, when it usually never did. The ground was a blanket of white straight out of the books, his feet, covered in boots, sinking so deep that it brushed icy crystals against his ankles. He couldn't care less about the pricks of cold, catching snowflakes with his hands as he ran around the garden, scarf bundled securely around his neck.

Laughing in glee, he built a snowman with his mother and thought that maybe this was what it meant to be loved. Here, in this one moment in time, she had actually been within reach - he could take her hand, and she would look at him as if he actually existed. Her hand was solid, slightly warm in his.

Dinner was coming. No matter how little he wished to return to that ornate dining room, colder even than the winter air, to have this glimpse into a beautiful dream come to an end, he couldn't disappoint her. It was alright. If he could earn just a little of her love, then he could put up with anything. He would correct his mistakes and become perfect, and then it would be easier to smile at him. And then one day, this dream could become reality.

They didn't make it farther than a few steps. Cheek pressed to the snow and gasping for breath, he was unable to screw his eyes shut as his mother cradled his face and whispered in his ear. It was the most motherly thing she had ever done, and her words clawed their insidious way into his ears until they were all he could hear, echoing endlessly in the murky darkness.

It was then that he realised it was possible to feel colder than he'd ever felt before, sinking into the unrelenting embrace of the snow that had now sneaked its way into his heart, painfully freezing it from the inside.

In the distance, the bell rang and rang and rang, announcing the start of an impossible dream, for it had already been cracked down the middle long ago.

~~~

In truth, he was in charge of the manor now, being the only living and free Wilder. And as Chosen, he had all the authority in the world. He could tear down any rules he wanted and institute anything in their place. He could show up for dinner any time he liked. He could skip it altogether, although Sebastian would surely hover outside his room with a warm bowl of soup if he did. He could ask that the servants never ring the bell again, if he so wished. He could even have the bell melted down so that he never had to look at it ever again.

Yet every time he even thought of getting rid of that accursed bell, dread curled around his throat like a shadowy serpent, constricting the breath in his chest. The sound continued to pierce through him like knives every night, and he would spend the entire hour before the scheduled time doing absolutely nothing, staring at the wall as he scratched his wrist with his nails until the skin was red.

Even now, he was still struggling with everything he had to earn a love that never existed in the first place, as his heart withered in its thorny prison. It was pathetic, but he'd admitted long ago that that was all he was. Like the princess in the fairytale he and Seles had read together what seemed like an eternity ago, there were shackles around his ankle. But the invisible chains had been secured by his hand and his hand alone.

He was already late. He should have left five minutes ago if he truly wanted to follow his mother's precious rule. There had been a thought process behind his stalling, but it had disintegrated half an hour ago - all he could focus on now was the nausea roiling in his stomach. Perhaps he'd thought the bustling about in the usually deathly silent manor - the murmuring of voices, the rustling of the curtains being drawn, the slam of doors - would be enough of a distraction to break the tradition.

The chime of the bell echoed through the manor as he stumbled out of his room, the beat of his heart thundering in his ears.

A cold glare. "You disappoint me yet again -"

"Where's the enemy? Let me at them!" A red blur declared, rushing out of the room next to his and nearly crashing into him as it hurtled down the corridor.

He came to a complete stop to stare at Lloyd, who had a single glove in his mouth and was halfway to pulling one of his swords out of its scabbard, jumping from foot to foot with intense energy crackling under his skin. The door he had burst through was still swinging wildly on its hinges.

Barely tamping down the hysterical laughter that threatened to burst from him, Zelos slung an arm around Lloyd's shoulders, gently steering him away from throwing himself down the stairs like a wrecking ball. The familiar mask slid back on, the easygoing smile he'd come to treat as armour spreading across his face. It had taken too long, but he doubted anyone here would notice. Sheena wasn't here to call him out on it.

"That's just the dinner bell, bud. Unless you're planning to do battle with the steamed fish."

The others had emerged from their rooms by now, Raine with her head in her hands and Genis bent over snickering as Lloyd began to flush an incredibly deep red.

"I… I thought that was the Desian raid bell!" he protested, shrugging Zelos' arm off with a huff.

"Sure, bud, sure," Zelos called out after him as Lloyd stormed off. He trailed after the others, a soft smile playing on his lips where no one could see it.

How ridiculous.

~~~

The soft white fluttering through the air and the icicles hanging from the various tiled roofs indicated that the air brushing against his skin should be cold. Yet he felt nothing as he stood on the church balcony, looking out over Flanoir. No sensation was able to pierce the veil of numbness, not even the pain of digging his nails into his arm. He was only able to concentrate on the weight of the wings hidden in his back - wings of light that were grafted onto his bones and stabbing into his spine.

Colette had carried these for so long without uttering a single complaint, bearing it silently for the sake of the world. She truly was a much better Chosen than he ever could be, willing to endure the expectations of a world that saw her as nothing more than a sacrificial lamb. She had never even tried to escape the weight of those expectations.

But he never could have carried the title of Chosen well. He had never deserved it to begin with.

"What are you doing out here?"

A shadow flipped over the railing, landing neatly and silently on her feet beside him. Brown eyes gazed at him with no small degree of wariness, something warmer hidden behind.

Weariness pressed down on him, heavy enough for him to forgo acting like she'd given him a heart attack - he'd heard Sheena coming from a mile away. Every shift of a brick had been infinitely loud in his ears as she'd clambered up the wall.

"I could ask you the same question. I thought you'd be with Lloyd." The words lacked their usual teasing lilt, meant to be a cruel knife that he could masterfully twist in her ribs. Neither were they accompanied by a sneer that had become second nature to paint across his face. He was simply too tired to muster up the will to carry on the act, not with the endless snow making his head swim.

She elbowed him in the side, but even that lacked its usual ferocious strength. Or maybe he'd just lost the ability to feel it. "He's with Colette, idiot." Her words were gentle, her eyes glimmering with a worry he didn't deserve.

Ah. She remembers that I don't like the snow.

He turned away, unable to bear the weight of all that he might have to forsake tomorrow. "Just wanted to enjoy the sights."

There was silence for a while, and he wondered if she'd already left, just as quietly as she'd arrived.

He knew that she hadn't. He hadn't pushed far enough to shove her away this time, and he had not heard a hasty escape.

"This will all be over tomorrow," she whispered, placing her hand on his. "And then hopefully we will all be free."

"Yeah," he replied, still unable to look her in the eye, her open concern both a warm blanket to protect against the cold and just another gallon of icy cold water poured over his head. It would indeed all be over tomorrow. With the wings gifted by the sullied hands of a fallen hero, he would grasp his freedom with bloodied nails. He was still unsure which fork in the road he would take, whether to trust or withdraw. He doubted he would find salvation at the end of either path, but he would forge his way down it, regardless of what awaited him.

"Don't stay out here too late, Zelos." She drew away, giving him one final awkward pat on the hand before she dove over the railing, melting into shadow once more. There was nothing more left to say.

In the darkness of the night, broken only by the occasional streetlight, the giant bell of the church loomed behind him. Craning his neck to stare at it, he wondered how loud it would sound in his nightmares.

~~~

"I'm coming in, Seles," he called out, knocking on the door of the guest room that his lovely sister had chosen to commandeer as her own. In his other hand, he balanced a tray holding two piping hot bowls of soup, steam steadily rising into the air.

"Reading those old fairytales again?" he inquired, noticing the book open in her lap. He recognised the illustrations done in intricate watercolour that were displayed on the current page - pure white, feathery wings sprouting from the back of a lonely girl, her head bowed beneath the expansive blue sky that she was now free to explore to her heart's content.

Seles flushed, slamming the book shut and adjusting her sunhat to avoid his gaze. "Just wanted to revisit it."

"Nothing wrong with that." He waved off her indignant pout, placing the tray on the bedside table. Seles perked up, leaning closer to inhale the scent. "More importantly, it's time for dinner."

At the abbey, Seles had eaten in the seclusion of her room with only her bodyguard for company. From what she'd told him, the food wasn't horrendous - the chefs were fairly good at their craft. But in the loneliness of her imprisonment, it had slowly lost its taste until it was all a bland mash to her.

Now, they could eat together without any rules imposed on them at all. Something they had never been able to do, not even as children.

"Doesn't look like poison," she commented, her lips curving into a smile as she daintily picked up a spoon.

"Do you have such little faith in me, Seles?" he gasped in mock offence, throwing himself onto the bed next to her.

It was likely going to be a messy meal. Soup would drip everywhere, and it would take hours for the two of them and Sebastian to clean off the bedsheets later. Most likely, he and Seles would get into some argument or other over something stupid while Sebastian continued to work, occasionally shooting the two of them a glance to ensure they hadn't killed each other.

But a mess was the furthest thing from his mind right now as he partook in a warm meal with Seles. The dream he had once wished for as a child, but had never been able to experience as anything more than fragments that instantly shattered in front of him, had finally come to fruition.

Here, in this room with Seles by his side, he was no longer beholden to anything. Not the expectations of his mother. Not stupid, arbitrary rules that meant nothing in the first place. Not a role that had been shoved onto him from birth that he had never wanted to begin with, that had torn apart his family and his little sister's life.

Hand trembling, he picked up the cartridge, his reflection staring back at him, eyes haunted.

Two years. It had been two years since the day he and Remi had been expelled from the Red Chamber in an explosion of grief, caused by an action of love. He had screamed his throat raw, waiting for a response in that breathtaking voice that had been a constant in his life for nearly three years, only for the mournful silence of space to be the only response. And he had been forced to tell Remi the truth through desperate breaths, her still youthful face crumpling even as the sirens of rescue ships blared in the distance.

Since then, the days had been ticking down in his mind as he clung onto any piece of hope he could find, rummaging around in a pile of despair. Perhaps she had managed to reach Phoenix and survive whatever crash must have happened when the Red Chamber slammed into the asteroid's surface, little fires cannibalising the components. If she had managed to salvage most of the greenhouse and rationed the edible plants that were already growing in the pots, she could have survived quite a long time.

That's what he kept telling himself to stop his heart from shattering every single second of every single day as he shouldered his way through fulfilling the promise he had made to Kay through small, shaky steps.

But two years. That had been the limits of his calculations, if he was truly optimistic.

Staring at the cartridge, he had to admit that she was gone. She had likely been gone long before this day - there had been no guarantee that the ship even reached the asteroid. Perhaps it had simply gotten lost in deep space while Eda choked on fumes, unable to force out even a pathetic wheeze.

The thought made his fist clench. She had struggled with her weak throat all her life, unable to love the sound of her own voice even as she pushed with all her might to become worthy of being a new era witch. To have her voice stolen from her in her final, vulnerable moments… The very idea was unbearable.

The songs she had been able to weave with her voice had been beautiful, strength threaded into the inherent weakness. He wanted nothing more than to hear her voice again, even though it had already begun to fade from his memory.

Finally, finally, he let his thumb drop.

The sound of her voice, damaged but haunting, flooded the room, suffusing its every corner. And for the first time, he let his tears fall, burying his face in his hands as he, at long last, let the sobs escape.

~~~

Year 8536 (Day 1)

She stares with wide eyes and a pounding heart at the glowing sphere of lumen floating before her, pulsing with a mournful melody. She hadn't recognised the tune every time it had appeared in front of her before - not at the Ziggurat, not at Banshee.

It is the sound of her own voice, echoing back at her. She hadn't recognised it for so long because she disliked listening to herself sing - it inevitably dredged up memories of mocking laughter and harsh whispers in her ears, telling her that she was useless as a witch, dragging her heart into a black hole with an inescapable gravity. And after Red's disappearance, singing became that much harder, a reminder that her failure as a witch had led her master to leave on an expedition doomed to end in catastrophe. So she sang only when she needed to, and barely paid attention to her own voice. Jun's bashful compliments had made her heart leap in her chest, like an excitable creature.

It shouldn't be possible.

So long as you follow the lumen… You will find them.

Gently, she lays the body of her master on the ground where she had found her. She would return later to give her a proper burial.

For now, she chases after the ball of lumen, whispering a song of grief, back to the pool of lumenide that glows a luminous blue.

~~~

Year 8542

"Hi," Remi whispers weakly, giving a timid little wave before dropping her arm to hang limp by her side.

"It's been a while," he said cordially, giving her a small smile.

It truly had been quite some time since they'd met face-to-face. While he made frequent trips to Thousand Peaks, they ran in different circles most of the time, and it had been maybe a year since he'd seen her. Even the messages had somewhat dried up, until he'd reached out to her about a month ago, proposing this very meeting.

Back then, Remi had seemed at times too young for her age and at times too old, those amber eyes seeming to bore into your soul when she focused all of her attention on you. Even now, when she reached his shoulder and had ditched the coat, that still seemed to be the case. Sometimes, when he blinked, he would see that angry 19-year-old again, fists clenched as she hurled knives with her tongue to shield her vulnerable heart.

"How are things with Benzel?"

"Blegh." She stuck out her tongue, and he couldn't help but laugh. Same old Remi.

"Come on," she said, sitting down at the edge of the asteroid and swinging her legs back and forth. The very one where he had truly met Eda for the first time, rushing in like a reckless fool to confront the pirates. The insides were a charred mess from the ship explosion he'd set off so long ago, and little pieces of debris from the shrine had been scattered as far out as where they were currently standing. It was an appropriate location for this event, all things considered. "Let's get it over with."

"No beating around the bush at all with you, is there?" he grumbled, settling down next to her and adjusting his outfit, now slightly fancier to befit his status as clan leader. He held out the starsong, his expression softening. "You don't have to rush into it. Don't force yourself if you still can't do it yet."

She gingerly picked the cartridge from his hands, cradling it in her palm and gazing at it as if it held the answers to everything.

Silence, for one beat, then two, then three...

She shook her head, tears glinting in the corner of her eyes. "I hated her, you know? When she chose to save us over everything else. I hated her so much, and I think I still hate her now."

With a soft sigh, she let the starsong echo into space, leaping gracefully from star to star in the vast darkness. Eda's voice, forever memorialised in song, singing gently, peacefully, lovingly.

"You idiot, Eddie," she hiccuped, curling into his side without any protest, letting herself crumple in his presence. Without a word, he placed a hand on her head.

In this moment, they were just two lost younglings once more, grieving a life lost too soon.

~~~

Year 8536 (Week 3)

She stumbles over a component of the ship, sprawling onto the ground as the air is forced from her lungs. The scent of flowers washes over her, making her eyes smart as thoughts of home float to the surface of her mind. The nights she had spent staring up at the stars, the wind causing the flowers to flutter by her ankles, humming nonsense and shivering until Red came out to drag her back inside.

She is so tired. Her stomach aches from consuming only plants for an entire month, sustaining herself on as little as humanly possible in an attempt to spread out her rations.

It seems almost impossible to get up again. Her limbs felt like soggy noodles, and her will to continue seemed so distant.

But she has to. There were still so many seeds she had to scatter. The flower fields were nowhere near large enough.

The ball of lumen flits by her, humming its usual mournful tone. On trembling arms, she pushes herself to her feet.

Jun needs her.

~~~

Year 8560

"You're really going to go back to the resistance?"

Bones smirked, grey having begun to overtake his hair. In this dingy little bar in the corner of Thousand Peaks, as of yet untouched by the war that had once more gripped the area, he swirled his bottle of beer, and downed yet another gulp. Even at this age, he could still hold his drink.

"You know how much it means to me. This is my home, these are my people. I'll go out protecting them if I have to."

"I get it. I do." If it was East Ocean that was at risk, he wouldn't hesitate to put it all on the line to protect his people and their honour. But it was precisely because of that duty that he couldn't just charge in and insert himself into the new tensions brewing in the Peaks. He was in charge of his clan's future, holding their lives in his hands - he could not gamble it all. They could not afford to lose it all like they had in the first war.

Even if it felt like he was watching the people he had grown to care about during the mad rush through the cosmos in his youth, beginning to fall apart. "I just…"

"You've grown into your own, buddy. I hope you find happiness. No need to worry about little old me." Bones clapped him on the shoulder, grabbing his bottle and stalking right out of the bar, disappearing into the glare of the bright lights.

Leaving him with the tab.

Rolling his eyes, he paid the impatient bartender, and followed into the bustling nightlife, not even bothering to look for Bones in the crowd. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be.

Some things never change.

Heaving a sigh, he raised his head to stare at Ignis, hanging on the horizon. "Give me strength, Eda," he whispered, stroking the starsong he had taken to carrying with him everywhere.

He had a feeling that he would never see Bones again.

~~~

Year 8536 (Month 2)

She slumps down the exterior of the Red Chamber, head heavy with exhaustion. No matter where one looked, there were just flowers - a field of Edalunes, spreading further than the eye could see.

She smiles, even as the energy leaves her body. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine Jin sitting next to her, holding her hand. The petals blanket them both, a soft embrace of love sent through the depths of space and over decades.

The ball of lumen sang, echoing her grief back at her as wet tears slid down her cheeks.

"You see? Unlike your planet, the flowers here…"

~~~

Year 8486

"…are always in full bloom."

Her voice laughed next to his ear, a warm wind that caressed his cheeks as petals fluttered from the sky to land in his hair, now white as snow.

He trembled, tears dripping as he stood among the field of edalunes, swaying joyfully.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Eda."

Smiling, he caught a single petal in his hand and held it close to his heart.

You… You’ve done it. After tens, hundreds, thousands of loops, you’ve finally done it! You’ve put an end to the king, and reached the end of your journey!

It doesn’t feel real, and you half expect your hearing to distort and the world to go all wobbly as it always does when time flows backwards.

But it doesn’t happen - the King’s armour is still scattered across the floor, the evil defeated once and for all. It’s not fading away, and you take a breath, secure in the knowledge that you no longer have to repeat this horrible day ever again.

“Hurry!” Belle rocks on the balls of her feet, cheeks dark. “The Head Housemaiden! Euphrasie is just up ahead!”

The name tickles something in your brain, something small and tucked so deeply that you have never brushed against it before. The smell of pastries baking in the oven, a gentle hand brushing hair out of your eyes, a warm voice whispering a name that is nothing more than blank space in your memories -

But just like that, it’s gone. You blink, disoriented for a moment as you stumble. Well, it couldn’t have been that important.

Crossing the short distance towards Belle, you can’t help but aim a vicious kick at a chunk of the King’s armour, sending it skittering across the floor. Good riddance! Odile’s gaze fixes on you from across the room, but you can’t care less at the moment. It’s over. You couldn’t care less about anything.

As you reach out your hand towards Belle’s, your fingertips barely brushing, your vision begins to waver. Static encroaches at its edge, and your heart freezes in your chest.

No. No, no, no, no! It’s over! It’s over it should be over why is it not over -

“Siffrin?” Mirabelle asks, her expression crumbling into fear as she reaches out desperately towards you, perhaps hoping to pull you back from the abyss you hover over, even if she cannot see it. As if she could ever save you.

As if any of them could ever save you.

You.

Feel.

A.

Tug.

On.

Your.

Stomach.

~~~

INTERMISSION Your skin burns, the heat of a dying star scorching you from the inside. You wonder if you are shining, your skin illuminated from within by a blinding light that cannot possibly be blocked. Ah, how bright that would be.

You had woken up in that same. Blinding. Clearing. The one that had haunted your life for days upon endless days, melding together into monotonous years that had stretched on into millennia. The never-ending beginning of your nightmare. And apparently, one you can never escape!

Belle had come to greet you, as she always did, a gentle smile already on her face. But you had bolted, refusing to heed her worried cries. They were almost familiar, in a way. You must have heard them too, once upon a time.

If you’d stayed, you would have been staring at an eternity that would have eventually ground away your heart - you were already most of the way there, having once shoved the names of your beloved party members away so it would hurt less. You didn’t want to betray them any further. And so you had refused to stop running, even as the others tried to catch up to you, their pleas falling on deaf ears.

You had fallen to your knees before the Favor Tree, remembering the ashes of a wish you had made in a life long before this one. And you had begged, begged, begged the Universe for a miracle. For all of this to finally end, because you could take no more of it.

And the Universe had gifted you a Star. It had caused your flesh to sizzle and pop as you cradled it in your melting palms, your face splitting into a grin as you stared at the entity destroying your mortal body. You had faintly registered the horrified screams of those you had once considered family behind you. But you had not turned back, tears of relief flowing down your cheeks as you took a big bite out of the flaming ball of plasma.

You had burned, surely bursting into flame at that very moment below the Favor Tree. You continue to burn. The world’s brightest supernova, in a void of nothingness, interrupted by a singular presence. The Universe, observing you, the world’s greatest laughingstock.

It is peaceful.

You drift away.

~~~

ACT TWO You find yourself under a massive tree, the breeze rustling the leaves on the boughs hanging above your head.

Not just any tree. A Favor Tree. And not just any Favor Tree.

It's the Favor Tree, the one that has stood in Dormont for… however long the Housemaiden had said. You would know - its every branch had been burned into your mind as you were engulfed in a brilliant light.

How. How are you back here?

You think, faintly, that there would usually be bile already on the tip of your tongue. But you can't taste it - in fact, you can't taste even taste the dryness of your mouth. The breeze is strangely muted against your skin, and you barely have time to register the lightless shade of your skin when you hear footsteps.

Coming up the path is…

Yourself.

Familiar hat and cloak. An eye patch. Shaggy darkless hair ending in lightless tips from an ill-fated dyeing session.

Siffrin carries himself with a jittery fear. It is one you can no longer remember - how many years has it been since the first time you woke up in that field, gasping as a phantom pain gripped you? But it is intimately familiar.

You remember your wish. It remains, making its burning presence known.

Please. Someone, anyone, help me!

You feel a bubble of laughter, threatening to push its way out from the chest that your fingers uselessly scrabble against, unable to scratch away the glowing imprint of a star. You wonder if you can laugh and laugh until the world crashes its merry way to the end. If you threw yourself out of this tree now, could you split your head open on the ground? Would there even be brains to leak from the wound? Would that finally put an end to your suffering, or would you wake up here again?

Trapped, trapped, forever trapped in this blinding town. Going round and round in endless circles, looking for an escape that was nowhere to be found. If it had ever existed in the first place, it must surely be shut tight by now, the door rusted shut and overgrown with vines.

What a lovely place to be!

Siffrin’s head pushes its way through the leaves, and they stare at you with unabashed shock, single eye wide.

You wonder idly how long it would take to steal the air from them. It would be as easy as wrapping your fingers around his throat and squeezing. You would know, given how many times the King had done it to you. Such a simple gesture that even a child could do it. And with the strength you’ve gathered from the loops, there’d be little chance of him fighting you off.

But you don't. For this, too, is intimately familiar. Playing a role, and pretending, hiding all the tumultuous emotions behind a smile so that no one would be any the wiser. The perfect actor, skills honed over decades of unwilling performance.

Time to get up on stage.

“Hello there, Stardust! How can I help you in this wonderful new loop?”

~~~

ACT THREE You watch as Siffrin defeats the King for the first time, triumph flashing across his face as the Housemaiden delivers the final blow, shining with that dazzling light that she possessed, welling from her soul.

Rage swirls like a nebula beneath your skin, energy fizzing up the lightless surface, screaming to be let out.

How dare they. He'd died to the King… what, three times? He hadn't had to suffer like you had, watching countless times as the life slowly drained from the pained expressions of your family. Until the agony your own body suffered through was nothing more than an impression, wounds inflicted over scars that your body did not remember. They didn't have to hear the sick crunch of Mira’s body as the King treated it like a ragdoll. Didn't have to listen to the bloody wheeze of Isa’s breaths until they petered out. Didn't have to feel the vibration of Bonnie’s terrified footsteps as Odile yelled at them to run.

How dare he.

You turn your gaze away as Siffrin continues into the hall ahead, unable to continue watching. Something like glee rears its ugly head in your non-existent heart when you feel the world warp around you, the scent of sugar overpowering on your tongue. There is something else squirming beneath that writhing emotion, something you shove far away, unwilling to contemplate it at this moment.

Your face is still by the time Stardust approaches, ready to shatter across the cracks spidering across their soul. Together, you question the loops.

Questions you were never able to field in your own timeline, truly believing the entire time that all you had to do was beat the King. That it was your own fault for being too weak to take him down. These are not questions you have ever had the opportunity to ask, your soul so worn down by the hundredth loop that the capacity to question, instead of sticking to a script written in stone, had been all but decimated.

You watch as Stardust offers help to his party (his family, your traitorous mind whispers, knowing they could never be yours), watch as these second-hand actors tell him things that you never got the chance to know as they scamper around town in cute little quests, spilling their hearts.

Or perhaps you once did, and the memory of it was yet another thing the loops had stolen from you. You will never know, and the realisation makes the star embedded in your chest dim. So you can only learn from their reflections in funhouse mirrors, smiling and talking to Stardust like they love them.

(You can barely remember the kind things your family used to tell you - the compliments, the jokes, the teasing. Were any of their words even true? Or just things they thought were still true of the silent puppet that you had begun dangling in front of them?)

Some loops, you melt the bark on the trunk of the Favor Tree. When you see Stardust talking to their Fighter, your fingers tighten and burn around the wood. You can barely bear to watch as the Fighter tries with darkened cheeks, again and again, to stumble through words that you only realised the meaning of once he was lost to you. Yet neither can you bear to look away as Stardust remains oblivious, smiling his usual easy smile and keeping their heart close to their chest. You want to scream at him, shake him by the shoulders, tell him that they should hold all of them close and never let go, that they should relinquish them to you -

You squeeze your eyes shut when the Fighter shoves them away, a familiar tug pulling on your stomach.

Even as you belittle Stardust, wanting to believe that at least in the world you left behind your Fighter would have wanted you, you know it to be a lie, a feeling like broken glass churning beneath your skin. He would have done the same to you. Worse, even.

After all, you'd abandoned them all. Unworthy of love.

Disgusting.

~~~

ACT FOUR You want to tell yourself that it is still glee that sparks in the air around you as Stardust holds back sobs, their shoulders shaking as they face a reality that had once, and still was, your entire existence.

But you know this to be a lie too. After all, you could have just left them to flounder. You could have hidden yourself and never revealed yourself to him - left him to a fate similar to yours, repeating the same two days hundreds of times over without ever knowing what to change. Sure, the Universe put you here. (And oh, aren't you the Universe’s favourite cosmic joke! A world-famous one-man act!) But you didn't have to stick to the script it had given you. What was another thousands loops to a broken being like you?

You could have watched, and laughed.

Instead, you had stared at your mirror image - no, not your mirror image, but the image of a past you that now slumbered peacefully beneath the waves, far out of reach. And you had realised you didn’t want to see Siffrin suffer.

You remember what it was like, to be standing in the middle of a nondescript corridor in the House and suddenly realise that you were stuck there for eternity, unable to see a way out. How quickly you had slit your own throat, running from the thought and uncaring of the horrified expressions on your party member’s faces as they watched you fall, hands stained with fresh blood.

So when Siffrin suggests the dagger, his entire body shaking and their eye wide, you shut him down instantly, insisting with a hiss that it isn’t necessary, your heart pounding.

There's a raging inferno in your veins, your hands shaking as you remember holding the dagger to your neck for the first time, hesitating and feeling like you’re about to be sick, before finally, finally letting it slip. How you'd missed slicing through the entire artery and had to lie bleeding out on the floor as Mira cradled your head and tried in vain to save you, her tears falling onto your cold skin. How it got easier with every time that followed. Even now, you think, if you could get your hands on Stardust’s dagger, you could end yourself in one smooth motion.

Even after the Universe forces you to tell him (because the Universe leads and we can only follow, right?) you still try, unwilling to let it end here. Until he gives you the dagger hilt-first, something almost like trust shining in their eye.

It makes you feel sick, but you take the dagger anyway, letting your fingers linger.

~~~

ACT FIVE Siffrin trembles like a feral animal before you, teeth bared and eye crazed, ragged breaths dragging from his lungs. You try and talk them down like you did before, but nothing is getting through the barrage of sharp shards he spews, cutting like glass. It barely phases you, and you keep prodding, certain that you can…

Until finally they find the chink in your armour and begin to chip away at it with ruthless determination.

Because it’s true. You had believed there was no way out, feet dangling over a void with no bottom - something to fall endlessly down, the darkness swallowing your bitter laughter as you shattered against the sides. You had reached out to Stardust and done your best to “help” them, even as, for the longest time, you had thought this all hopeless.

They had already discovered so much more than you ever had. You were beginning to glimpse a glimmer of hope over the horizon, piercing the endless dark. And though it hurt to believe once again in the idea of escape, knowing it might just be another failure in a long string of them, you want to cling onto the tiny speck with all your might with Stardust by your side.

But he slashes and slashes, as unrelenting as he is with his dagger, and with your wounded heart, you cannot help but turn away as Stardust stomps back in the direction of the clocktower.

As day turns to dusk turns to dawn, you sigh, knowing you cannot while your time away here, turning into a statue as you stare off into space. This cannot possibly end well for Stardust - the two of you have a penchant for causing dramatic situations. When you'd been at your lowest, your party had noticed and tried to mend your broken heart, one small piece at a time. But this Siffrin… he's so much better at acting than you had been in those last few loops. And somehow, you don't think the party will be able to help him. Not without some… outside assistance.

You don't want to do this. You don't want to face their reflections in the water, just a step or two removed from familiar faces that had been your everything. But you have to.

Sighing, you raise your hand to your ear.

~~~

ACT SIX You watch as the red sky knits itself back together, the ugly rip closing as the strange shades vanish like they'd never been there in the first place. The air is fresh, the sunlight warm on your star-speckled skin.

You breathe. Slowly. One at a time, feeling the strange stretch of your chest that you had become accustomed to.

Your family had looked at you like you were a stranger, somebody who posed a danger to them. Bonnie had frowned. Mirabelle had looked puzzled. Odile had looked wary, one hand already on her book. And Isabeau… his smile had been friendly, but lacking all of the gentle warmth usually reserved for you. Because it had all been taken up by Stardust. The better Siffrin, the only Siffrin that remained.

It had torn you apart from the inside to talk to them, to pretend to be civil (but not too civil!) as you guided them to the King. Giving helpful advice as befit your role of the gracious Loop, letting nothing about yourself slip, each word a lump of hot coal on your tongue.

The knowledge of the wish that both you and Stardust had made washes over you. You scratch at your skin, frowning when you fail to break through. Something boils beneath, and you ache to release it.

You could have had it all. You could have stayed with your family, if only you weren't so greedy. If only you could have learned to let go, they might still be close enough for you to touch.

It'd been so simple all along.

There is a freezing want creeping up your throat that has been your persistent shadow your entire stay in this world where you are nothing more than an unwanted stranger. You want to be with them. With Mira, Odile, Bonbon, Isa…

You want…

What exactly is it that you want?

~~~

EPILOGUE You snarl, ready to slice the scissor sign across Stardust’s neck. To let the blood contained within them spill out and stain the grass of what had been your resting place, but also your prison. You want to rip their heart out and replace it with your own, the beating dead star in your chest. You want to take their place, to be with your family again!

You want… You want to feel that warmth again. The vivid flavours of Bonbon’s cooking, the muffled sound of Mira reading under her breath, the sarcastic barbs from Dile, the sweaty palms of Isa under your own hands.

Stardust, pressed up against you, their head lolling on your shoulder.

You can't do it. Stardust stares up at you with a peaceful smile on his face, neck bared for you, and you can’t do it.

You fall back, frustrated laughter bubbling out of you as you cover your face with your hands.

After everything, you can't do it. Even as Stardust offers their life up to you on a silver platter, you can't take it. This family… it's theirs, not yours.

Your family is something you can never get back, no matter how much you try. Not unless you wish, and that is not something you want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Never again.

There is nowhere to go, and nothing more to do. These are the consequences of the actions you have taken, and nothing can change your fate. You explain to Stardust as you begin to fade, gifting him the hopes of tomorrow that you had once cradled.

You hope that he'll be happy - that he will know what it’s like to be loved.

As the darkness claims you, you close your eyes.

Nails gouged frantically against wood, hand shaking as fresh trails of blood ran down the sides of the lectern. They dripped onto her dress, adding to the massive stain of red that was already there, splattered over white that would never be clean again. The fingers of her other hand curled and uncurled over the hilt of a sword that no longer existed, recalling the sensation of driving it through soft flesh. Hikari gasped -

All around was emptiness, pressing heavily down with the weight of the sky. It would have been enough to bring her to her knees, had she not been a god, standing uncaring in a dead world. There was not a single sign of life, every shard of glass laying still at her feet, silenced at long last.

She sighed, raising her head to stare at a fractured sky, cracks splintering across its glass-like surface. There was nothing left to do here, in this quiet, quiet world. She had tried, again and again, to take hold of happiness, digging sharp claws into its aching brightness that burned her flesh. To have Tairitsu’s warm hand clutched in hers again, to wake up to her gentle smile. Yet no matter how many times she refashioned her from nothing but glass, painstakingly building a paradise for her, only betrayal awaited. Inevitably, she would choose the truth over joy. Hikari had been left with no choice every time but to destroy the memory of her, tarnishing her again and again.

A dark cloak of weariness wrapped tight around her shoulders, perfectly curling around her form, impossible to escape. She’d been forcefully shoving it off for… For years, for decades for centuries. She couldn’t remember how long it had been. There was nothing left but an empty hole in her chest, her heart as dead as the rest of this world, crumbled to dust long ago. And with nothing left to do…

This world was nothing but memories. Memories of other worlds, memories of itself, threads upon threads of recollection that spiralled randomly, folded endlessly over each other to form its very core. Once, long ago, she had seen a memory of herself, staring blankly back at a bright world that had nearly burned her soul to ashes. She had pulled from its depths before, searching among an endless deluge of data to gather the sweet memories of a kind girl.

She began to do so now, travelling over threads that led to random memories, rapidly jumping from location to location in her pursuit of a specific memory. Tugging and unravelling the many deeds that had occurred and been captured in glass since this world’s conception, witnessing the many souls that had stumbled helplessly over its lands, desperately searching for a purpose.

A girl who sought the truth of this world. A girl who drowned herself in endless battles. A girl who had lost everything, as almost all of them had.

She pulled and pulled, uncaring of the threads that snapped under her grip, their records pouring into the overflowing reservoir. Rifling carelessly through the great tangle of it all, ripping through knots without hesitation, until she finally reached the end. The memory of a lonely girl huddling on her bed, wishing only that there was a world out there where she could be happy.

And she fell.

~~~

A girl blinked awake, head resting against a crumbling wall. She stared up at the sky, shielded from the sunlight by the wall’s shade, softness beneath her.

Her name came to her next, and she slowly pushed herself to her feet, gaze curiously tracking the shards of glass that flitted around her. Gently, she reached out a hand, and giggled when they pushed eagerly at her fingertips.

“Delightful,” Hikari breathed, and set out into the world.

~~~

The glass watched, as it always did, recording all that it saw. Even as the world ground to a halt, protesting and shuddering as it was rewritten, it still remembered. This world’s purpose was to make its god happy, and it would do all it could to accomplish that. But memory could not be truly overridden - all that a desperate wish could accomplish was the construction of more frames over that which existed before, hiding it from view. But traces remained in a reborn world, echoes of forgotten memories spilling through.

The first time - a young girl in white, unknowing of the world she had created. Naive, searching for hope among the emptiness until she found another who had been devoid of it, who did her very best with bared teeth to crush the final seed within her heart. Desperate and seeing no other way out, she had run the other girl through, only to collapse from the grievous wound her counterpart had left her. Leaving nothing behind but a cry of grief, a prayer that those who came after would not repeat her mistakes. That world had collapsed backwards with her death, for it had been built to grant her wish, and it could not do so when its mistress had perished.

The second, who had walked in the footsteps of her predecessor, but had decided to take this world’s power into her hands, to let it flow through her veins unchecked. She had made herself goddess of ruined towers and collapsed churches, and ruled over an endless empire of glass - but had failed to escape the abyss within herself, forever yearning for a warmth she could never have again.

The third, who had never made it out of her downward spiral into madness, succumbing to an endless white.

The fourth, who had found the church early, and horrified by what she had done in another lifetime long ago, wished for it all to stop.

Through it all, the glass watched, doing nothing to change the fate of the two girls who seemed to orbit around each other. They observed the endless different endings that arose from the smallest of changes, continuing to write new memories and add them to the stack. Contributing to a towering edifice that threatened to crumble beneath its own weight, groaning as it wobbled. Minute cracks begining to spread like an insidious spiderweb among the foundations, originating from the words carved into the very core of this world, unchanged even after so long.

Make her happy.

Heading out the door, she laid a hand on her hair, unused to it being exposed. She supposed this would be a new experience for her, and she was never one to complain about one of those.

She just hoped she wouldn’t get divebombed by excited Arcaea shards again… That was certainly an interesting memory, and not one she wanted to go through without at least her hat to protect her.

~~~

“Tai?” Hikari whispered as she opened the bedroom door slowly, ensuring the hinges didn't groan. She'd come home to find no one waiting for her, so it was a safe bet that Tairitsu was taking an afternoon nap.

Avoiding the creaky floorboards, she snuck her way over to the sleeping girls' side, coming to an abrupt stop at the sight that met her.

“Just as I thought,” she laughed quietly, a smile lighting up her face at the familiar white hat nestled in Tairitsu’s arms, hugged close to her chest. She certainly looked very cute like this, her face relaxed and hair pooling beneath her, released from its usual pigtails.

She can keep it a while longer, Hikari decided.

~~~

“Have a good sleep?”

Tairitsu let out an unintelligible response, blearily staring at the white blur next to the bed that she knew to be Hikari.

Lifting one arm to rub at her eyes, she continued to squint at the grinning girl - only to realise that she was still hugging Hikari’s hat.

Cheeks flaming, she instantly shoved it behind her, scrambling desperately for something to say. An excuse? Or some way to deflect from the situation entirely and hope she forgot entirely about it?

“You look really cute with my hat.”

Her thoughts screeched to an abrupt halt, her flush spreading to the tips of her ears as she covered her face with her hands. Only Hikari could have this effect on her, breaking through any and all defences instantly. Her grin had only grown as she visibly held back laughter, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I sleep better with it,” she mumbled through her fingers, knowing she would never hear the end of it from Hikari now.

After all, it smelled like her. Comforting. Safe.

Like home.

“You could have just told me!” Hikari dove under the covers and snuggled up next to her, resting her head on her shoulder. “I would have given it to you. Or you could have just asked me to cuddle with you!”

She spluttered, weakly shoving the other girl but utterly failing to push her weight off, Hikari’s white locks tickling her neck. “Shut up,” she mumbled, but easily accepted the other girl's embrace.

With nothing to occupy their mind but the events that had occurred just hours before, replaying in her head in a constant loop, she stared at their reflection in the mirror. Long hair that was now escaping from her hair tie in a tangled mess, pink eyes red from crying, and a rumpled yellow T-shirt that was stained with tears.

An unsightly mess.

How foolish of her, to think that anything would go her way. It was all her own fault, after all. For running, running, always running, letting fear rule her every action until there was no choice but to leave everyone else behind. They’d once hoped that someone might steal the words that were eternally stuck in her throat, scraping against flesh and drawing blood, and whisper them into the ears of those she held dear in her heart.

Their prayer had been granted.

It's not that she feared any of Nightcord shoving her away with bared teeth and angry snarls - they were all far too kind to do so. No, what she feared were the minute changes, that went unseen by those who had no reason to watch out for them but stuck out like neon signs to her. Friends tripping over words, the conversations in the room growing a little quieter when they walked into the room, the trailing off and profuse apologies. It was everything she hated - the thorny kindness her friends would no doubt wield as they gingerly walked on eggshells around them.

Because the worst thing had never been those who outright called her a monster. It was the ones who said nothing to her face, continuing to speak to her kindly, but whose gazes dripped with unknowing pity. It was the ones who gradually stopped inviting her along on fun outings, who stopped asking if she needed help on assignments or if she needed to borrow a pencil. Little things that no one but her would notice. They didn't even know they were doing it.

For wasn't it natural, for someone as unnatural as her to be excluded? Not wearing the skin of a boy well enough, but unable to fit in with the girls who turned her away with disgust once they knew what she was. But they couldn’t go back, not anymore. Not to those hopeless, grey days when they’d hidden within a shell, shoving everything deeper and deeper down until it had threatened to explode.

A flower, no matter how ugly, no matter if it was rotting from the inside out, could not return to a bud once it had bloomed.

If she were to rip the skin from her bones, strip by painful strip, would that make a difference? If she were to bare their bloody innards, spilling out over the floor, would that finally be enough to convince them that she was -

Pain flared up her arm. Shards of glass embedded themselves in her knuckles, streams of blood trickling down her fingers. Dripping, dripping onto the floor.

A fractured reflection stared back at her, and all she could do was laugh bitterly as she sank to her knees.

~~~

She blinked, and found herself in the clothing store where they worked part-time, hands suspended in mid-air clutching a hanger, ready to be hooked on the rack.

How many days had it been? What date was it, even? They had vague memories of going through the motions - robotically shovelling food into their mouth, curling into a ball in the corner of their room, collapsing into bed and closing her eyes. She thought, even, that she had a conversation with An at some point. Stilted, the empty smile on her face so wide it had hurt. The moments are shrouded in fog, difficult to decipher no matter how much she tugged at the threads holding them together. Their brain felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, sluggish and refusing to give her anything. Hurriedly completing the task she was in the middle of, she hurried to the backroom, nearly tripping over their own feet as a wave of exhaustion, thick as tar, rolled over her.

Their phone, when she held it in her palm, was unresponsive. Their nails were chipped, dirt stuck underneath. The screen remained black, refusing to light up.

Oh. That's right. They'd let it die, watching from afar as the number of messages had ticked up, up, up. The incessant dings had filled the heavy emptiness of her room, keeping her up all night until the morning light filtered through the curtains they had pulled shut.

Ridicule, for ever thinking she had a chance of fitting in with them? Or kind words, dripping with pity like a saccharine poison that would slowly eat away at her soul?

She didn’t dare to find out. And so, like always, she did nothing.

If she didn’t have to see them, it's like they didn’t exist.

If no one sees me, it's like I don’t exist.

Here, yet nowhere at the same time. She slipped away again.

~~~

Falling to her knees by the strange body of water that she and the rest of Nightcord had discovered mere months ago, they buried their face in their hands, insidious whispers surrounding her. They hissed in her ear, relentless, a never-ending cruel cacophony.

Nothing would stop them. She had tried clapping her hands over her ears, but still they resounded, echoing in her mind in an endless loop. They knew that not even clawing her ears away would do anything, but she couldn’t help but scratch at her flesh with her nails, futilely praying that it would have some effect.

There were eyes all around, staring at her. They never blinked, boring into her soul. They saw everything, and they could not help but judge her and find her guilty. Guilty of lying, of hiding everything unsightly about her until it had been torn out of her hands and revealed to the world.

Stop it. Stop looking at me.

They never wanted this. They never wanted to feel like the breath had been stolen from her lungs, that the weight of the world was pressing on her shoulders, forcing them towards the ground.

All she wanted was to disappear again into those foggy times where nothing was important, where nothing could hurt her. But the world would not let her, fear’s insidious claws dug deep into them and refusing to let them slink away like an injured animal.

“Shut up,” they cried for no one to hear, the plea she released left to die alone in the silence.

The water was as peaceful as ever, not even a ripple disrupting its surface, almost as if mocking her. There was no evidence that she was here, that she had ever existed at all. Nothing but her unbroken reflection, staring her back in the face.

Staring at it, she pondered. Under the gentle brush of the water, could she finally find peace?

~~~

Beneath the bobbing waves, they dream.

Of a composer with an infinite well of kindness, never faltering in her quest to save others.

Of a lyricist who may not show many emotions on her face, but whose heart is deep, hiding a blazing courage.

Of an artist who may scowl at her own creations and snap at others, sometimes, but is also the strongest person they know.

She dreams of warm laughter and arms that wrap tight around her, refusing to let her go.

The first time he realised that he was considered abnormal, that this gift he had taken for granted could do harm just as easily as it could go good, was on his seventh birthday.

At that age, he'd only had one friend, the others not wanting to bother with the quiet child who stared at them for minutes on end. A friend whose name he could no longer recall. (A lie for he never forgot anything, every single scrap of knowledge burrowing into the corners of his mind, but he'd buried that name under years and years of regrets.)

“Nanase! Will you come with me?” His friend had grinned, bouncing on the balls of their feet as they'd taken his hand with no hesitation, as only children could.

“To the surprise birthday party!” he’d said without a second thought, grinning as well. The image of the cake floating in his friend’s mind seemed delicious, and his mouth had already begun to water.

To his utter shock, his friend did not respond with a cheer. Instead, tears started welling up in their eyes. “I… I spent so long preparing, and you…”

They fled, then, leaving Nanase alone in the hallway, unable to comprehend what had just happened, something uncomfortable squirming in his stomach.

By the next day, he thought it would have blown over, that it was all just a misunderstanding and they could return to being friends. But they never looked his way again.

(It was only years later that he would understand that he had ruined the surprise, that they must have thought he'd known all along and yet continued to let them make a fool of themselves. After they'd both grown up, perhaps they would be able to laugh about it. But at such a young age, everything just seemed bigger.

That was true of him, too, considering the memory never left him. A stone permanently dropped in the river, carried along by the rapids.)

~~~

Nanashi blinked at the girl patiently standing on his doorstep, face as serious as ever, hands primly folded before her.

“Come on in, Misane,” he mumbled, ushering her in. After the first few times that she'd turned up without prior notice in front of his door, he'd started keeping the living room clean, finally clearing all the detritus that had piled up over the months of working on his secret project.

He still didn't understand why she was here. Sure, she had trouble connecting with others as well due to her somewhat cold countenance, but nowhere near the extent he did. Surely she must have realised that no matter how kind he acted, it couldn’t cover up how odd and disgusting he was. But she was still here.

She was still here.

“How's the time machine going?” she asked after a few rounds of easy conversation. His lips twitched at the faint blush that dusted her cheeks as he retrieved her emptied cup and turned away.

“Good,” he answered, pouring her a new cup of tea. “Should be complete within the next two weeks.”

Her crush on him wasn't hard to pick up, no matter how she tried to obscure it. It was funny, thinking that anyone could have feelings for him, especially a girl 8 years his junior. But it's not like he could blame her.

Love was an irrational emotion, even if it could also be translated into numbers. It interrupted regular sequences and threw wrenches into his calculations that he had to take time to untangle. If he had been younger, his heart just a little lighter, he might have returned these irrational feelings of hers.

Now, he could only think that it was the one thing keeping her in his life, anchored to his stagnant passage along a river that had started to dry up.

~~~

Nanashi tried. To be a better friend, a better person, someone who people would want to talk to. As the years passed and he shot up in height, he did his best, practising speeches in front of the mirror and shoving away anything that could be considered off-putting.

But, inevitably, he would slip, falling back on the numbers that ran effortlessly below his fingertips. And his friends would recoil and pull away, until he was left all alone again.

There came a day when he simply chose to give up, dropping out of school and secluding himself in his apartment. It's not like anyone would miss him. And this way, he didn’t need to watch his every word to avoid stepping on a minefield. This way, he couldn't hurt anyone.

And it wasn't all bad. An estranged cousin barged into his life, heralding hot chocolate that warmed the tongue and quieted his errant thoughts, together with a listening ear that was always there for him.

Drifting aimlessly down the river… He couldn't call it lonely.

~~~

Nanashi hadn't been expecting to see Misane here, in the past. Puppy love was one thing, but the dedication to follow him through a machine that he had no guarantees worked was something else.

He couldn't understand it, not at all.

So he smiled blandly at her, glad when she deflected the question he was expecting her to ask, shying away from the truth without any input from him.

It was bizarre, watching her interact with his past self. A past self that he remembered from years of loneliness that never abated, a time when he'd shut out everyone else and thrown himself into working on the Master Program in a bid to do some good with the ability he had.

Perhaps, at this age, he mused, he could have fallen in love with her. And perhaps that could have changed the trajectory of his life.

But he’d already changed it, by being here in the first place. The future he came from had already been destroyed, rended to nothing by his own hands. Treating his past self with kindness, not wishing to add to the abject fear and loneliness that had clung to his back during this time, even though the one he hated most was -

There was nothing much else he could do but continue on towards his goal, watching with careful eyes as the river split around a fork that had not been there before.

~~~

At some point, he must have guessed that Mikado was his future self, for he couldn’t muster much shock when it was revealed. It made sense. Too much sense.

He could see himself turn into Mikado as the deceptively peaceful water eroded his spirit and dulled his hope even further. Doing everything that Mikado had done, for the sake of fulfilling a dream he'd nurtured for so long, to finally do something good. All of that was not surprising.

What did surprise him was the spark of warmth that had lit in his heart over the past week. Talking to others, learning about them, making friends… They were all things he never thought he would be able to do again, and it made him feel as if he was cradling a bright star in his hands - a fragile hope, with a light that could still be extinguished if he did not care for it.

Even a freak like him could be warm in this world.

The spark ignited into a small flame when Misane embraced him outside the control room, sobbing.

Telling her not to care, not to worry… That was only what he'd deluded himself into believing. All along, he'd been selfish. All he’d ever wanted to be loved. And he’d found people who would love him for who he was, so long as he himself continued to make an effort to reach out to them.

He could see himself doing all that Mikado had done. But he no longer had a desire to.

And so it was simple enough to tell Mikado to stop. He knew how he processed his own thoughts, and they weren't quite that different yet.

Mikado wouldn't understand why he was doing this, but he would stop. And so he did, departing with Misane as quickly as they had arrived, leaving the apartment more empty and quiet than it had been before.

The thought that Mikado would never understand made him unbearably sad, but he knew the sharp emotion would fade with time, though he refused to let go of it. The future that had once been set in stone would no longer come to be - the river’s course had been permanently diverted as it ran down a hill, and it could never flow back up it. And he would work as hard as he could to protect the one that Misane had gifted him.

Waiting, waiting…

~~~

Years passed. He fell out of love with a girl he had known for a week, knowing he would see her again and truly be able to get to know her this time. He broke his heart multiple times, but kept going. Time would pass, and the scars would fade.

Working on the new Master Program, he met Misane’s father, who rarely talked about her, but did enough to reassure him that she still existed in this altered timeline. His own memories wavered sometimes, her hazy image dissipating completely. He would grasp onto the wisps with all of his might, slowly piecing them back together with more and more pieces missing each time.

Perhaps she wouldn't remember him at all, those memories of a bygone time completely erased by her own impulsive actions. But even then, he would simply smile, greet her cheerfully, and keep moving forward. Time would pass, and one day, he would no longer feel the pain. There were so many open arms where he could seek comfort now, explaining the emotions tumbling through his heart regardless of the obscured truth.

On a clear, sunny day, eight years after a girl with blue hair turned up in his futon, he sat down on a bench in a park, smoothing his pants out and uncrinkling the well-worn letter in his lap.

In the distance, a familiar face approached.

He smiled.