This is Will.

I've read a fair share of Tales of Symphonia fanfiction now, and many that deal with the circumstances of the eight dreamers after the death of Yggdrasill. I'd like to imagine that Will isn't like many of them. Written as a panacea to help me deal with a good friend moving away, it's laden with character death and a nice heaping of sadness. Please read and review, but do remember to give yourself a nice hug afterwards.

Like many things, Will stemmed from something innocent- a Z-Skit conversation I happened to watch during our trials in the Torent Forest.

CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS.

Will

/one by one, we all must go into the realm eternal

Fragment 1:
Inheritance

x x x

Lloyd was the last to go. Well, Lloyd and Colette, really.

Regal was the first. It was a combination of his old age and a persistent infection he had picked up in prison; he died at the young (relative to most) age of fifty, rashes from old chains still staining his wrists. Many of the businessmen of Tethe'alla and even some of those better-educated ones from Sylvarant had shown up to his funeral. Honouring his last wish, he was buried on the no longer lonely rooftop of the Lazareno Company Headquarters right beside the gravestone of the woman rumoured to be his lover.

It had been a sad day; rather sunny out but the beaches were devoid of their usual joy-makers. Lazareno's only manufactured product was happiness and it wavered that day, from the mist of morning to the last lonely call of night.

His funeral was too gaudy for any of the tattered seven's tastes. There were bands playing gloomy melodies and rows of women throwing flower petals in the air as if they cared about the convict, not just the president.

They stood at the front, the seven of them, in all their beautiful creeds and from all walks of life. The noise died like the end of daytime; gentle and horrible. They said what little they could manage in front of so many people and life went on.

They slept together in the hotel in Altamira that night for the first time in twenty years. They had kept in contact save for Lloyd and Colette who were strained at best, beginning to slip into the indexes and back pages of newspapers, and it might have been good to see their faces again if it wasn't in such a tragic situation.

Sheena attempted to make conversation.

"Who…who'll take over the company?"

Raine attempted to fill the silence.

"George, I believe. He's a…good man. It'll do well."

Lloyd was never one to beat around the bush.

"I've missed you, guys."

And how many years! They sat in a circle in the lovely room as though there was a fire in the middle of them spinning stories of old fairy tales like Angel Toxicosis.

Sheena was in her prime now, a passionate and wise chieftain presentable as she was beautiful- time had been kind to her, and though she was closer to forty than thirty years of age she had yet to show it. The work of creating harmony between worlds torn together kept her name on the lips of men and elves alike. Sheena and Regal had been the most public of the Eight-

It was odd to hear them spoken of like that. The religious texts called them the Eight that Battled the Heavens, but some things are so much easier on the tongue.

For a Summoner of thirty-six years, it should have been nothing but joy to be around old friends. But she was used to being one of them, someone just about their age, and there was similarity no longer. Genis felt like he understood.

Of those who remained it was easy enough to understand why he, his sister and Zelos had not aged. There was half enough to stop what tide carries all men away into the dark; for Presea it was almost as if her time had slowed, but still ran as the power of the Crystal bled through. Twenty years had touched her but seven. She sat silent as the innocence she had once been, beautiful as the wretched wind that turns to stone. Colette suffered a similar illness, for the vessel of the Goddess should live until the spirits wane. There was an uncomfortable silence as all eyes turned to the gentlest of idealists.

"Mom's Exsphere," he said, in the kind of voice that reminded everyone that he, too, had grown old.

He could have been twenty-five years of age.

It was a good night, better than anyone could remember having in a long while- stories traded, both new and old. The subject of the Holy Search for the Exspheres (something which everyone seemed to know of but not about) came up. Lloyd gave his first real grin and lapsed into a rather embellished tale of his heroic exploits along with his beautiful and talented Chosen, who added in her own details from time to time about how the Gold Dragon was this big, and how the sardonyx shone just like this, and how the stars poured down from the heavens with such a beautiful silence like the dawn of time.

They talked for hours about anything they could remember. Of forgotten qualms, of chaste romances and skulls with long arms who danced until the origin was reborn. Of seals that were men and women who waited to tell tales none would dare listen to. Of dances, of cold nights, of times when angels came down from the heavens to guide five lonely voices to a tower that wasn't real, playing a façade of families and love and hope.

Of gentle dreamers, of cheerful saviors, of lonely siblings left to rot where the moon shines. Of ageless sinners burdened with guilt. Of clumsy assassins who forgot their limits. Of lost knights with nothing to live for, of the most innocent whose time fled like death itself, of those consumed by the weight of crimes they were forced into--

Of the time when they were all so incomplete and happy.

Back through horrors and sweet joy and emotions long forgotten, there was a time when searching a seal was all that mattered to save everything and the moon had a name that was only a name and not lives destroyed as the screw turned. Tears came and went, laughter rolled like lambs and it was almost like it used to be.

It was late in the evening by the time they rested their weary hearts. Genis had picked a bed between Lloyd and Presea as he used to and everyone said their good-nights. They fell to the shores of sleep soon after.

The silent halfling lay awake but dreaming for a while, until the coughing started. It began slowly, and he thought that she was simply struggling with something caught in her throat. As the sobs started he wondered if it was instead emotion caught there, but when she did not stop he began to worry.

He rolled out of bed, saw Presea's white face, and immediately raised a cry that brought the five remaining to her bedside.

As much as she knew about unicorns and purgatories, Raine could not heal a broken heart.

x x x

"…To mourn the loss of a beloved teammate, a dutiful subject, and the most innocent, lonely of women." Kate bowed her head low, the scent of charred angel wings carrying through the ruins of Ozette. Presea was buried beside the father she had left out of too many years of her life, the axe she swore to wield in his place resting on her gravestone. It had finally shattered as the threads that held her alive snapped.

There were eight people present, and Kate was one of them. There was a long and lost silence that filled their heavy spirits with nothing but nothing. Slowly, Lloyd stepped forward and placed a small chipped dagger on her grave. He hadn't eaten since the empty soul passed away, and there were unspoken doubts that he was still human.

"Goodbye," he said, "Presea, our friend."

There was nothing else they could say. Genis was the first to sob, and at that moment the emotional pain of losing two dear friends hit all of them at once, and they cried until the stars themselves shielded their eyes from so much hurt.

They parted ways that night, feeling the space between.

x x x

The years came and went with a deafening silence. With the Exspheres destroyed, news of Lloyd's travels all but disappeared from the gossip of townsfolk. Genis returned to his studies in what was now Sylvarant's largest library, built up from the ashes of his own home. Raine accompanied him from time to time when she was not conducting hands-on research. Her papers were becoming increasingly popular even as they lost her original passion; now that she knew where the moon shone when it was full, the mysteries that she held dear to her faded without majesty.

To Genis, that old, familiar scent of Iselia was but rose petals in the wind charred with neglect. It was often that he'd find himself awake at night unable to concentrate on the ancient hammer of Godly Thunder, and suddenly the loneliness would become suffocating.

The memories would come back to him, surging like a waterfall of wind. It was the greatest of adventures- days and nights together, no two experiences quite the same; fighting, eating, enjoying time together. Growing closer and closer together. Never forgetting that the next sunrise could be your very last.

Long nights ran forever, and often he would lie amidst his useless knowledge crying soundlessly for all that had been and all that he had lost.

x x x

This piece of fanwork was not originally written in five parts. It was intended to be a one-shot, written over a period of seven months. However, I felt it would be a good idea to break it up so as to not destroy my brain trying to reread the whole thing at once. You must forgive me.

I would greatly appreciate your feedback.

Word Count: 1 515