Pain.

It was a staple of life, as much a part of existence as the pump of a heart or the intake of breath. And yet, it was something that he had never really come to terms with.

Oh, not physical pain, no, he was used to that. Ever since his wings had been torn out of his back he had been no stranger to it. Why, he hadn't even flinched when the trident slammed into him, leaving behind a cruel wound which was beginning to bleed freely.

Gingerly, he touched a hand to the injury; it came back sticky and wet. It was serious, he could tell. But if he could get proper treatment soon he stood a chance of surviving.

A chance which she did not get.

He watched as her murderer did battle with his companions; it's winged appearance a macabre parody of the angelic form. He waited for an opportunity, a chance to hit back at the beast which had caused him so much pain.

It came, and he struck.

"Diseresta!" he screamed as he plunged his yellow thunderblade deep into the corrupt abomination that was Seth-Rah.

There was a kind of morbid satisfaction in feeling the honed edge of his Diviner slide easily through the flesh, cutting effortlessly through muscle and bone on it's bloody way to Seth-Rah's cold, merciless heart. A heart which was as foul and dark as the blood which came gushing out of its punctured atrium.

This is as it should be, said the warrior in his nature.

Eye for eye. Tooth for tooth. Blood for blood.

That was when the screaming began.

As long as he lived, Ein would never forget that sound. The high, keening shriek spoke of hatred and anger and pain. It spoke of ambition and greed in a pitiless heart, it spoke of innocence lost and angels fallen from grace.

The wail reached such a crescendo that Ein thought his ears would burst from the strain. But soon, the last vestiges of life in the Holy Beast left it's body in gurgling, blood-choked groan. After that, silence.

Judgement had been passed.

Hector, eighth and greatest member of the Magisterium, was dead.

But even in this moment of glory, Ein could feel no triumph. Instead, he was filled only with a profound sense of loss amidst a stifling cloak of guilt. He had won, it was true. By slaying Seth-Rah he had prevented the Retribution and saved Riviera from an age of darkness and fear. But his was a Pyrrhic victory; it had come at too high a cost.

"Fia..." he breathed softly, weak from exhaustion and loss of blood.

"I'm...sorry"

And then the darkness swooped down to claim him, as all around him the floating fortress that was the Maze of Shadows collapsed around the wingless angel...

----------------------------------------------

He was first concious of a slow, peaceful melody playing in his mind. It's gentle tones beautiful beyond imagining, yet it sounded soft and weak, as though played a great distance away. It was this melody that brought him out of his dark oblivion, and once again into the waking world.

He awoke in an area vast beyond description. Not in all Riviera could a similar place be found. It was neither room nor clearing nor cave nor wood, but a space between worlds, a hidden plane of existence linked to all yet belonging to none.

The light here had a curious quality, as if seen from underwater. It flicked and flashed and danced. Ein was entranced by the way it played across his hands, its shimmering hue putting him in mind of the Elendian springs.

He recalled with pleasure the many happy hours he had spent there; swimming peacefully in it's blissful calm water, teaching the resident undine how to speak, watching Fia and Lina engaged in their bath time antics...

Fia...

The moment her name entered his head, sorrow and guilt clouded his countenance. Sorrow for her passing, and guilt at the part he had played in it.

He should never have let her come, should never have let anyone of them come. He knew from the beginning that it would be dangerous. He knew from the beginning the risks it entailed. Danger and death were ever present, each creeping softly in the darkness to take them unaware. He knew about all this from the very beginning, that dark, quiet night in the shadow of Lacrima.

And yet he had been swayed. Swayed by the crocodile tears of a young Elendian girl; great flowing waterfalls that vanished the moment he agreed. He had doomed them, doomed them all. They had looked to him for protection, for guidance, for strength, and he had failed them. Failed her. She had died in a quest that was his and his alone. And only his weakness had let that happen.

"Ein of Asguard, it was no fault of yours." the soft voice cut into his self-recrimination, it's tone kind, yet firm.

"You are a fool to believe you had any control over her actions, and more still for thinking you had any hand in her death."

She had been there all the time. But it was only when she spoke that he turned and noticed her floating in the air behind him, a sylvan figure robed in strips of silk, her sky-blue hair swaying gently in the wind.

Ursula.

For the first time, Ein was concious of the otherworldly nature of his surroundings, and the absence of his friends. Where am I? Are they safe?

He opened his mouth to speak. But Ursula shushed him with a gesture. She smiled, and began to speak.

"Ein...thank you for fulfilling your promise. Thank you for saving Riviera. It was a long journey, and only you, could have accomplished such feats."

High praise, coming from a deity, but Ein was uninterested in such accolades. For him, it was all overshadowed by that one, horrible event.

"I..." he held back with effort the tears in his eye. "I lost one of my friends."

To hear it said out loud...and in such careless a way... Oh, he longed tell the figure before him all about her. About the way her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. About the way her long green hair danced in the breeze. About her boundless compassion, her infinite charity, and her sweet, gentle voice. He longed to tell her all this, that she might better comprehend the soul-shattering magnitude of his loss.

Oh, what would he not give, just to see those eyes again? If only for an instant. What would he not give?

"Fia..." she began, and Ein knew from that one spoken word that the goddess understood. That she understood the intense agony he was experiencing, the feelings of regret and anguish.

"Hope yet remains."

And with those words came a light brighter than any he had ever seen, and the melody of his dreams played once more in his mind. Not distant like before, but strong and vibrant. He could not help by close his eyes, partly because of the intense light before him, partly so he could better enjoy the ghostly tune.

Listening to it, his heart felt light as a feather; like nothing bad had or ever would happen. He felt a sense of total and absolute peace. He could have stayed like that for an age or more, doing nothing but listening.

All at once, it was over. The music's blissful tones replaced by the soft whisper of wind.

He opened his eyes to find Ursula gone, and in her place...

A young lady lying in peaceful slumber on the floor. She was still, but for the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her face was turned towards him, and in those soft features framed by emerald hair, he beheld an expression of such peace, such serenity, that he was loathe to breathe, lest his clumsy gulps disturb her perfect tranquillity.

"I have brought her back from death," came a voice from the air. "This is my final gift to you. Goodbye Ein...goodbye."

But Ein was not listening. His eyes and ears were greedily devouring the girl before him. Every feature on her face, every strand of hair on her head, every fold on her dress, every soft intake of breath...He was lost in these sights and in these sounds, which he had been convinced were gone forever.

But here she was, living and breathing in front of him. Here she was, called back from the dead by a goddess' might. This time there was no holding back the tears that streamed freely down his face.

"Fia..."

I never want to lose you again.

Those were his last thoughts before he fell once more into sleep.