The Chrono Cross

by Java Bum

This is an adaptation to the game Chrono Cross, the sequel to the acclaimed Chrono Trigger.

10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Brimstone

It was early morning and the fog was dissipating fast as the heat steadily rose. The chill burned off, and warmth was given to aching limbs. Guldove was still quiet in the early hours, except for the dock near the clinic. A cluster of people stood about, some with their goodbyes and others for their journey. What could have been riotous was quiet, subdued. Council was shared, words and hugs exchanged. It was war that was beginning, war created by nothing but a small upstart cluster.

The doctor was there, his hair held back by a ribbed cotton skullcap. He shared his test results with each of the men, having labeled the contents within the case. Orlha and Serge stood off to the side, quiet and tentative in turn with their farewells. They were the first words they had spoken to each other since their last meeting. Guile bantered with the ape-like demi-human, making her visibly flustered. Glenn and Radius, true combat veterans, were morose and silent and still.

Serge finally got Orlha cornered in their conversation and delivered his promise once again. She hugged him fiercely. What was a tender moment shattered in an instant when a resounding crack echoed across Guldove and the sea. Everyone turned to stare at Korcha staggering back and holding his jaw—whose face was redder than usual—then to Kid as she stalked away from him, all brimstone and fire.

Before Serge could mount any word as the blonde hellfire strode up, Kid spat out to Orlha, "Oi, the nerve o' dat slag!"

Amused, Orlha asked her, "What'd he do this time?"

Utter nonchalance was met by a seething lass. "Him houdin' me mercilessly fer weeks! An' he's now sayin'—" and now Kid really took off, deepening her voice in a mockery of the ferryman's—"Oh! Now figger he dies, den ya can be wit' me."

Orlha and Serge, despite all instincts, laughed.

"Iffin' it weren't fer Mel, I woulda gutted him long ago!" squealed Kid.

Trying to control himself, Serge asked her, "Don't she want 'im strung up like a pig?"

With a nonplussed flick of her hair, she followed the comment up with: "Course! 'S why I ain't done it yet!" Now she growled as she sneered. "He's jus' damned lucky I dun kick his arse up aroun' his ears 'til his insides jingle."

They laughed at the audacity of that mental image.

Radius called for them all to board the boat.

The fog had scattered and thinned by the time the party was seabound. Little was spent in conversation—unless Kid's grumbled ranting to no one imparticular counted—as Glenn overlooked the supplies again. Serge spent his time watching the archipelago come into sharp relief, starting with the city port of Termina and then the spine of Fossil Valley as they ventured south. Radius guided the boat further westward to avoid the peninsula of Opassa. As they rounded the southern shores of El Nido's main island, Serge turned his gaze southerly, to Water Dragon Isle.

There was still too great a distance to see the finer details, but what drew Serge's attention was something drastic. Looking for Radius, the young man questioned, "Wha's wit' Watuh Dragon Isle?"

"I don't know," replied the old man. He leaned on the engine compartment and rubbed his clean-shaven chin. "Doubt anyone really does. Stories have it that the Water Dragon God left these shores, and when it did, the whole of the island dried up, dying."

Serge shook his head, as if clearing away conflicting sites. "Change…" he said quietly, stoically.

"What was that, m'boy?" inquired Radius.

Serge was seeing it as he had almost every morning of his youth overlaid with the image he saw from the boat. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Glenn stood up and spoke.

"Over yonder. What could it be?"

The aged soldier made his way to the younger one. "Mist? Possibly from Mount Pyre."

"If it has erupted, there will be no way in," stated Guile, "unless we scale the Graveyard Mountains."

Serge leaned in to whisper to Kid, who had a confused look on her face. "Took 'im through Foss' Valley."

She grinned. "Graveyard Mountains…I dig it."

Cannon fire filled the air with the deep, soul-shaking booms of discharge. At their distance, it was impossible to tell how many ships were engaged in battle. Looks of worry were exchanged. But the bravado of the young woman would not be flagged.

"Ain't an eruption if ships're there," she said. "An' we may git lucky an' sneak by."

After a moment's deliberation, Radius replied, "She has a point."" When Glenn tried to progtest, the elderly man held up a hand to stop him. "We came for a reason. We had no information to speak of, but now we have something, and I say we are the better for it."

"Then let us proceed," added Guile.

When they had entered the mist, the party was able to fully appreciate its thickness. The density was so heavy that fewer cannons could be heard, and they were muted when they made any sound at all. Visibility soon became non-existent; they could barely see each other, let alone what was outside of the boat. Aloneness was like a double-edged knife; to be lost at sea—or within the folds of a dense mist as they were—gave a person a sense of separation, though when debris and unarmored bodies began to drift by, the party gained an eerie sense of removal with a holocaust.

The nose of the boat slammed into something massive, but held. The group quickly went ot work at dislodging their vessel, and to find out what it was they had hit. Guile sent his cane hovering in the air, a ball of iridescent light flickering at its tip. The bodies of soldiers hung over the side of the ship, tangled up in ropes as they had fallen. More dead dragoons floated by, pieces of armor broken off and drifting; none of them had been wearing metal, which had dragged their owners down into the depths of the sea.

As they pushed off again, Glenn spoke in a loud whisper that was more a strained version of his normal speaking voice. "Should we help them?"

"We keep going," stated Radius through the sound-devouring fog. The old man gazed at the side of the ship, watching as the mist slid over the dead. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Serge shudder. "We've a task to do. This could be the work of that infernal Lynx or his gypsy harlot."

Knowing now what was out there, Radius and Glenn worked in unison to avoid crashing into any more ships that drifted lifelessly in the murky water. The small boat banked around a third as it drifted between two others. There appeared to be no survivors. They all could still hear the distant sounds of cannons disgorging their loads, and as the boat pulled through the monolithic sides of the stranded—if not deserted—ships, new sounds pierced through the mists; it was a battle. After a debate ensued, Glenn's valor was curbed again, and they trekked on.

The mist waned just before the nose of their boat kissed sand. The natural heat of the shore fought with the fog, turning it to vapors. It was then that the party had known they had reached Mount Pyre. They quickly disembarked as Radius took their bearings. Gear was brought ashore, shackles removed from their casing, and each went about donning their loads.

As Radius returned, the scarred soldier was checking the shackles of each person.

"A good tug will dislodge them, but only outward," Glenn was saying. "As Guile stated, the charms will hold against those whom pull in any other direction."

"If I dinna know any bettuh, I'd say Guile wants us chained, given his preferences."

Guile looked pointedly at Kid as she spoke. "Regardless of tastes, I can honestly say that you suit them naught."

"Prissy an' tittied," snickered Serge.

The magician laughed. "Crassly put, but aye, Serge. Prissy and tittied."

Radius growled at the trio, "If ye are done dawdling, I be thinking this is a good time to move on."

Serge and Guile looked to the younger dragoon, who merely shrugged. With that, they moved forward. Radius took the lead, followed by the pseudo captives, and the rear was brought up by Glenn carrying their assorted gear. The cave loomed ahead, lit up by its own internal source, by lava flows that mapped the guts of the mountain like an interactive roadwork.

As they stood on a shelf of stone, they stared out across the terrain. Though the initial passage was wrought from the cliff face along the westerly wall of the immense cavern, it was obvious that without proper care, the route would be obliterated by vapors superheating the bridges until they collapsed in burning cinders. The transition of light did more to hinder vision than it did to aid it. The flows far below were at times blinding white or a dark brown that the lava did not churn as it moved. Most often the miasma flowed steadily in an ominous reddish orange.

Radius pointed out the first bridge, and as they approached, dragoons could be seen guarding the passage guarding the passage across. They were patient while they waited for the group, given the terrain.

"Halt!" called one of the soldiers. His tone would have been bored if it wasn't for the constant din of the mountain's bowels.

Glenn strode forward as Radius took a position that would cover the movements of their captives. Serge was thankful for the professionalism displayed by both soldiers. "Ho!" cried Glenn. "I bring forth a lot I am certain our Lord will wish in his presence."

"And what would that be?" asked another dragoon.

Closing the distance so that he could speak in a somewhat normal tone, Glenn stated, "I've the villians whom broke into the manor and threatened the Lady Riddel's life." The other dragoons needed little more to convince them. "Surely, ye see the need to present them, despite—ah—other engagements."

"Of course," said the first.

"You may need to wait for an audience," began the second, "though I should believe he would see this as good news."

With that, the group progressed forth, Radius accepting the muted praise and obvious deference of the dragoons as they passed. The next passage sloped down, allowing a greater feel of the scorching heat. Serge, Kid, and Guile shot up their arms to shield their faces as they turned away. The metal of their shackles heated up, singeing their wrists. At a staggering run, they broke across the threshold.

The firing bursts and toiling magma was left behind, if only temporarily. Each breathed a sigh of relief as they took a few moments to rest. They were within a tunnel that led around the western border of the mountain. Braziers lined the walls at intervals, with unlit torches mounted in stands beside the trays of burning coal. Albeit they were cooler, the temperature was stifling, creating a mephitic aroma of burning corpses.

Eventually they moved on. Two more guarded bridges met them, although they were well undermanned. As Glenn inquired of this at the last bridge, he was told that their reinforcements had yet to arrive. They were told to steer clear of the main entrance because of the Devas that blocked the passageway, that the path needed to remain clear because of their unknown objective. Due to their cargo, Glenn and Radius were told to remain along the western route to get by without having to face the three.

An hour later, the party showed up at the split. The dragoons gestured to the left passage and they progressed unhindered. Gaps in the stone barrier began to give way, adding lava light to their passage. It was a long, winding roadway that appeared all too natural to have been carved out by man—or dragon, if the legends were to be believed.

Kid and Serge stole glances through the breaks in the uneven wall. Great rivers of magma flowed steadily on, bursting from springs and then roiling downhill, only to vanish again beneath rock. The party continued on until Serge stopped them. The others came back, curious as to what they were to be shown. A great lake of lava choked and churned. There was a stone bridge that extended out over the lake, created naturally, standing well above the surface of magma.

There was an ear-piercing screech that rose and fell, as if by its own volition. In the distance there was a dragon—in its full size and glory—submerged in the lava itself. Its scales were a golden color lined in crimson. It jerked its great head about as crystal shards slammed into its body continuously. Transfixed, the group watched as cries of pain and anger boiled forth from the monstrous creature as it writhed to escape the onslaught, yet an unseen obstacle held it in place.

"In all my days…I never thought I'd see an actual dragon!" the scarred soldier whispered fiercely, sliding his hands longingly over the uneven stone wall.

"What is doing this—ah! There!" Guile pointed to awkwardly through the makeshift portal.

Glenn and Radius gasped in united surprised. "What are they doing?" cried the former.

The Devas stood upon the edge of the northern platform before the grotto leading further into the volcanic mountain. Radius pointed each one out. Karsh—who Kid and Serge were familiar with—Zoah who was a beast of a man with little armor save a helm upon his head despite the blazing heat, and finally Marcy who had replaced Radius himself. She was a waif who was more like a boy than a woman, yet she had a sadistic kind of cunning that frightened a lot of people.

She was the one calling upon the elements to assault the dragon as if it were a sport. Her companions tried to waylay her, but their efforts were more aloof and her determination stolid. Catcalls were shot out as she pummeled the beast with ice that tended to evaporate quickly. From the other entryway another creature emerged when the overhang no longer blocked its view. It was dragonesque in shape and a deep crimson in shade. It used its spear as a cane to support its wingless form.

It clapped the heel of the spear sharply onto the rocky surface. "Be gone of this domain!" it screamed out, its voice guttural and fractured. "Ye are welcome not within these halls!" It was a desiccated thing, all aged and withered, yet it spoke with a voice of authority even if it seemed apparent its physical prowess could not match up.

Marcy turned towards the half-dragon, her childish curls bouncing with the motion. A wicked smirk touched her lips as she seemed to have found a new toy to prey upon. She strode across the bridge. Her companions began to approach her, but she started to half-skip and half-jog after the wilted creature. She drew upon an energy that required most to concentrate their will to summon. A glow surrounded her moving form as the planet responded to her need.

One of the many gemlike studs within her elegant arm piece pulsed brightly as the element was harnessed. A swirling mist formed quickly solidifying as it stretched forth, becoming an icicle of massive size as it shot out towards the dragon-like being. Smoke and flames billowed out from the creature as it threw a shoulder down to protect itself. It was like a wing of heat and energy that began melting the projectile before the ice shattered upon impact before reaching the beast. The beast threw back its arm and its makeshift wing evaporated. Harmless droplets of water sizzled as they pelted the elevated stone walkway.

There was only a moment's hesitation as the blonde woman smirked. She narrowed her eyes and strode forward, weaving her hands in the air before her. More elemental energy drew from her body as her fingers worked the newly forming strands in a cat's cradle. She crisscrossed her hands and then snapped them forward; beams of frosting blue lanced forward as she released her charge. The dragonesque lifeform staggered back a few steps as the webbed latticework pierced into its body, its stony scales warping.

It curled in on itself and then, with a deep growl, it threw its arms back. Great tendrils of flames burst forth from its body, incinerating the remaining sapphire strands. Marcy staggered back herself, stunned. It was more than enough time for the creature. It leapt at the waif and slammed down with the butt of its spear onto her foot.

A look of surprise registered briefly on her face.

The beast brought the butt of the spear up into her jaw, causing Marcy's head to snap back. A resounding clack echoed in the chamber. The other Devas rushed forward as the dragon-like being spun his spear around and forward, gripping it in clawed hands as it thrust the head of the spear into Marcy's midriff. Agony rippled across her face as she stared, disbelieving, into the face of the beast. It stared back at her, sneered, and then jerked the spear out at the same moment it kicked the Deva off the blade of the weapon.

She stumbled back, spun, and looked towards her companions. Karsh reached out ineffectively as she slipped and fell off of the ledge. There was no scream as her body plummeted into the lava.

Before her body hit the magma, Glenn charged off the way they had come. Radius cried out to him, and Serge caught the scarred soldier with shackled hands. They pleaded with him to no avail, and it took the power of all four of them to hold the headstrong man back.

"Be still, my boy!" cried Radius. "Next station we reach, we will send word."

Glenn clawed and struggled, pushing against all opposition. "The Devas need our help!"

"They are Devas, Glenn! And you are not! Dammit, if they cannot handle this, what makes you think you can?"

The dragoon relented, slumping against the others. Stonily, Glenn concurred.

They moved away from the ensuing battle at a brisk pace. They eventually broke free and into the open area in which the fortress of the dragonians was built. The summer air was cool by comparison to the stagnant inferno of the mountain. It took a short while for their eyes to adjust to the brightness of the outdoors. They resumed a steady march that turned into a run from Glenn at times. They traversed the crusted ground, breaking the up-curled shale underfoot. Fort Dragonia loomed above them, its construction immense and ominous; Glenn's driving need gave none of the others a chance to view the architect of the place.

A soldier stopped the dragoon quickly enough. "Halt! How do you come here?"

Glenn exploded into a spiel that had finally gotten the attention of the few dozen dragoons upon the lip of the granite drawbridge. Soon after, most of the guards departed for the main entrance to Mount Pyre. In the failing sunlight, the final dragoon told the rest to find more able bodies to back up the soldiers. When they had fled, he brought his attention back to the prisoners.

"A fine thing you've done. Let us see what we can do to help our Devas." The dragoon looked over the party. "So, whom is it you bring with you?"

Radius began speaking quickly; the issue at hand was warring inside him with his need to aid his fellow Devas and dragoons. Despite it, the retired soldier held his composure well enough that the others were led inside by the single trooper.

The interior slammed home on those least affected by the death of the Deva, specifically the chained ones. Kid whistled appreciatively. The dragoon moved forward as if unimpressed. The room appeared hexagonal, wider at its entryway and narrowing as it rose towards the innards of the fortress. A great obelisk stood within the foundation, connected to the walls of the raised platform. Before it was a fountain, though the water that cycled through smelled stale and infested with sulfur. Standing alone was a rectangular protrusion that had a slanted facing to it. Grooved patterns were set upon its facing while a single one rested upon its horizontal plating, as if something was meant to fit within it. Whatever the case, the panels remained dark.

Radius, not unkindly, shoved each person in turn to get them moving.

The dragoon hesitated briefly as the prisoners entered the main chamber, before he sought out the guard standing at ease in front of a massive stone pillar. The tube itself easily could have fit the previous chamber within it, although it only took the central space of the orifice it resided in. There were five passageways leading out of the gargantuan chamber; the largest being the way they had just come in from. Each other door already glowed with a color representing the four earthly elements, from left to right they shone, their colors following rivulets in the stone to the cylinder in the center. One was yellow, another green, followed by blue, and finally red.

The long moments it took the soldiers to speak with one another gave the others ample time to look about. When the dragoons broke away, the one who led them in beckoned the group forward. The station guard went over to a panel carved of stone and pressed on one of its ebony buttons. It seemed, as the party traversed the immense space, that the floor and walls—everything—was a mixture of granite and obsidian.

The latticework on the floor began to come to life. At first the colors were muted, but their intensity increased until the original unseen patterns began to form on the flooring. Great shots of color went up the sides of the tube—green and blue seen as echoes on the floor behind the pillar. A dim gray shone and then strengthened until a dazzling white pierced out from the opening of the lift within.

A cold embrace raced along Serge's spine as he stared in awe.

The grinding of stone and metal filled the chamber's central area, yet the sounds were lost before they could ricochet off of the distant walls. Even without that, the noise was deep and ominous, voicing an unseen volume of the Dragonian fortress. Only the guards seemed unperturbed by it all. The party was waved inside twice before the copper-armored soldier spurred Radius, and then Glenn, into action. Against their wills, the five went into the light.

When their eyes had adjusted to the searing white light, they saw a room that looked eerily similar to the entrance hall but on a smaller scale. The device in its stone edifice was there, along with a statue of a Dragonian, but the similarities ended there. There was no fountain, and the steps that went up either side led to a shaft three-quarters encased in smoothly carved rock. A tri-star etching illuminated from the platform within the egress; its orbs—one for each star—shone white, indigo, and a vermilion color that seemed unable to decipher its true texture, whether it was to be purple, crimson, or slate gray; the only thing it seemed set upon was how dark it was supposed to be.

The last of them to enter was the dragoon. He pressed a button of obsidian and then waited until the intricately patterned grate sealed them in before activating the lever. The elevator clanked as it rose through the tube. The brightness of the shaft contrasted greatly with the dimness of the corridor that it led to. The grates rattled open and the group stepped out into the hallway that bent left to right.

Unlike the lower level, a myriad of tapestries hung in the hall on both walls. They were old, though there was minimal decay and fading, as if they were preserved throughout the ages. The stonework and etchings along the walls were flawlessly done, showing great scenes of an epic in even the minute of details. Upon closer examination, none showed any humans as the creators, but humanlike reptiles.

The guard moved them on to the left hallway. The doorway at the end held no actual door, and it opened up a view to a series of bridges that varied in level. Their lead man guided them on without hesitation, not even bothering to acknowledge the greatness of this oddly structured chamber. He acted as if it were commonplace, as had quite a few dragoons they had met in passing. The walls depicted monolithic carvings of dragonesque beings in all forms of wardrobe. Some were armored while others wore the robes of state. Each one began as a statue that ended within the recesses of the walls themselves, unfinished.

Glenn approached their guide. "Does this amaze ye naught?" There was wonder in his voice, if not for the dragoon's indifference then for the sights before them.

The soldier glanced at him without stopping. "Amazing, at first, but like all places, it loses its spice quickly enough."

"How could it? It was made by the Dragonians, a civilization that we know very little of."

The dragoon shrugged at Glenn's comment. "Without actual evidence. This is easily a human place—archaic as it is." With a smirk, he looked mischievously at the scarred man. "We've bets on that amongst the dragoons. And human has the favor twenty-five to one." Then he added whimsically, "But who can know for sure?"

Glenn was disturbed by this. "We've proof they existed—look at what separates the archipelago in 'twain!"

"What? Fossil Valley?" asked the soldier, a little less incredulously. "Surely dragons existed, in many sizes and shapes, much like us. But we humans evolved. There is no proof of a reptile civilization of any sorts. Dens and packs, surely, but nothing—nothing—suggests otherwise."

Glenn scowled and he could barely keep the disdain from out of his voice, "So, whether human or Dragonian, ye all lose interest in what 'tis that is here?"

"Pretty statues, to be sure, if you like that sort of thing."

Radius put a firm hand on the scarred dragoon's shoulder and shook his head. They fell back a few steps and drifted into varying states of silence.

It took a while before they stood on the mid-level platform. A small bridge extended out to a dais. There were two guards on duty there, governing the lift. The plate of ebon glass was already glowing with the trinity of colors, the final of the trio as indecisive as before.

"What is that?" Radius asked, pointing a gnarled finger at the fluxing star. The quizzical looks he received from the dragoons forced him to elaborate. "All of the others have been comprised of what we view as the elements. Green and blue; red and yellow. Yet the lift here—and now this one—show White, for the star or sun, and black for raw space; yet that last one is a seventh, it seems."

The inquisition within the eyes of the soldiers never faded. "We are not sure. Maybe an archaic symbol of sorts? That is all we were told."

"By whom?" questioned Radius with a low-level heat.

It may have been the fact that the elderly man was an ex-Deva that kept the soldiers from remarking in a bantering—or off-handed—manner as they did with Glenn. "Uh…by Sir Lynx, m'lord."

Almost snarling his disdain, the former Deva inquired, "And what, pray tell, would he know of this matter to so lightly toss about its knowledge—or lack thereof?"

Each dragoon took an involuntary step back at the fierceness in Radius's voice.

One gathered enough courage to stammer out, "'Twas said in passing, m'lord. It seemed as if he were saying it to himself, it's said. We just passed it along."

It was then that the full force of the old man came to fruition. "Just 'passed it along', did you? And it doesn't strike you as odd to treat the idea of a new element—an essence of the very world we live in—as something to just pass along?"

The nervousness of the soldiers became a fear so thick that it choked the air around them. "N-no sir—I mean—we just...Well…"

With a snap of his arm, Radius growled, "Does the pod work?"

"Uh…always, m'lord," one replied hastily.

"Word of Sir Lynx, my lord," another added.

With a quiet whisper, Radius said, "Good. Let me tell you all something of great import: to casually flirt with the power of the cosmos leads to death."

The confusion from the dragoons pierced through their fear. In an instant, the clanking of metal resounded on the stone floor. The guards finally looked up to see the prisoners loose, and Glenn, a fellow dragoon, was tossing the woman her knife. The other two were already armed.

Serge smacked the flat of his Swallow against the helmeted cranium of one guard which caused him to buckle and drop. The guard on the far right was toppled over with Kid upon him, and the blade of her knife thrust deep into his throat. Guile shoved his cane, more than threw, forward, letting its magic create the momentum as the cane smashed into a soldier's face. His nose burst, shattered, in a bloody mess.

Glenn stepped forward, staring at each guard in turn. "To tamper with the world's unknown will always lead to annihilation."

Radius, unmoved by the sudden and brutal display, stated, "As a student of mine will surely hold dear to his heart."

"Like lettin' 'em lead but neva givin' 'em control 'cause it shows dere weakness," murmured Serge as he clasped the shaft of his Swallow behind his back.

There was an openly puzzled look on Radius's face as he stared at the young man.

Serge gestured to the guards. "I mean dem."

"I know what you meant, m'boy. What puzzles me is that that is one of my teachings. Who—"

"I know."

"Then—how?" asked Radius.

The young man half-smiled. "Took me a while, wit' yer hair an' no beard, but it be ya who taught me t'fight, tuh use el'ments. When ya left duh drags, y'came ter Arni Village t'be elder when ours died."

There was a barking laugh from Radius as he viewed Serge anew. "That was four years ago that I retired. And, yes, the elder had died, but Miko took the mantle before I decided to take on the task or not."

"Ain't dat funny. Miko still got a sawtooth shark in 'is basement?"

"Nay. A straw man is there now—has been as long as anyone can remember. He's a Mojo follower, I've heard."

Kid gestured at Serge. "Dat necklace. He gave it to ya, dinna he? From th'shark he caught?"

Serge nodded, a single eye squinting at the quiet ardency in her voice. "Aye, some summah's back, he be givin' me dis. Sayin' ter always follow me dreams, like he had. Dun worry 'bout no past y'ain't changin' or tuh try an' figger out t'morruh, he said."

"And you have not," whispered Guile, but his voice was overran by Radius's.

"Well, I'll be damned! Follow that heart, m'boy."

A fallen soldier grabbed a hold of Glenn's calf, trying to pull himself up. It was a futile attempt that amounted to little more than a quivering grasp.

"Speaking of which," the scarred youth said, nonchalantly using a foot to push the injured man off of the ledge. "We've a date with Fate."

Some watched the dragoon fall, but no one cared.

Kid half-smiled at Serge, but her eyes were hard. "Destiny, eh? Let's git dis over wit'."

"Sounds good."

With that, they stepped onto the platform. It wasn't an elevator; there was a vague sensation of Self being lost, molecular piece by sub atomic piece. The feeling it generated to those standing on the plating was like one's body was tearing itself to shreds, though the cohesion didn't end with the separation, it was as if each body was crying out for the rest of itself to join as a whole elsewhere. Consciousness was strong as they were disassembled and reconstructed on a new dais.

"Let us not do that again," said Glenn, who was shaky and looked like he was about to be sick.

Kid took a bracing step forward. "Whoa—me knife felt like 'twere a part o' me."

"Her arse as 'mazin'," Serge sighed.

Kid slugged him in the shoulder.

He laughed hoarsely.

"Are you quite done?" snapped Radius.

Kid growled, "Y'ain't gittin' none t'night."

With a sprite-like grin, Serge retorted, "Likewise."

Kid paused as she re-evaluated the situation. "Hrm. Good point."

The old man had had enough. "Will you take this seriously?"

"I will now," muttered Serge, looking out over the land from their new height. He could see over the mountain tops from where they were standing. There was a small but grand structure in front of them, separated by granite tablets that were linked together to form a bridge from the transporter to the chamber. There were stone barriers erected all around to keep people from falling to their deaths. Some of the lower clouds hung like a mist above them. The air was cool, almost cold.

Serge looked over the edge as if to assure himself that it was real and not just his mind playing tricks. He had seen a floating stone structure in the sky when he first looked upon the fortress. He had not endeavored to wonder at its realism then, thinking it may have been a jutting piece of rock face from one of the many mountains within visible range. Now, though, it was unmistakable. From this great height, he looked down upon not only the immense estate of Fortress Dragonia, but of the valley that was carved and blasted free of mountains to make room for the structure. Looking straight ahead allowed a view that showed the sea and far islands beyond the mountaintops.

And sudden flashes of white seared him behind his eyes that caused an agonizing pain to lance through his head. Random images took shape like sparks of light—quickly forming and fading just as fast. Serge cried openly as his grip weakened until he fell to his knees. The visual anomalies assaulted his senses in rushing currents. He kept pinching his eyes shut and snapping them open to relieve his mind of these forsaken images, but he couldn't. He shook his head fiercely which sent tears spattering about. There were voices that called out to him, forcing him to focus his attention on them.

And then he was back; he was himself. The chamber began to take shape, but it still continued to waver and flicker. Steadying himself on the sound of their voices and they eventually brought him back to reality. When he could search outward, he focused on Kid. A trembling smile formed on his lips.

"Y' a'ight, bub?" she asked.

Pushing himself to a knee, the young man responded quietly, "Aye."

The others helped him stand, and with every step that was taken, he stood his own ground with more and more certainty. By the time they reached the pinnacle of the bridge, Serge was leading the group.

He paused at the door without look back. With something akin to forlorn, he touched the heavy ebon door. And then he took them to Lynx, to Viper, and to what they viewed as the end to this madness. The doors, heavy and laden, parted for Serge, and he stood upright as he let the slabs go, walking across the threshold. The failing daylight shot crimson across the entryway, each silhouette moved like exaggerated stains before they distorted before the light inside.

The chamber was large, like every other in the fortress. There were platforms circling a central dais, they were statues of dragons ringed around a pedestal that held the Dragon Tear. The carvings were highlighted by various colors signifying the elements they represented. A group of people were studying the myriad of engravings covering the tube-like walls of the room from the floor to the ceiling. Electric lighting was set up at sporadic intervals, the brass posts elevating the reach of the yellow light onto sections of the singular wall.

Lynx was conferring with the General some distance away from the technicians and archeologists. As the door opened and the group strode in, they turned to stare at the newcomers; the silence between the parties was accentuated by the spitting hum of the portable generators feeding the light posts. All work ceased as the General strode forward, his footfalls echoing heavily on the stone floor, overpowering that of the noisy generators.

"Radius, is that you?" It was a wondering question that still boomed across the distance with authority. "What is the meaning of this—Glenn?"

The catman took a few quiet steps towards the party. "Ah, the vandals now have a few new acquaintances. Well, General, it looks like the proverbial cat is out of the bag."

The man ignored the demizen as his face braced a flux of emotions, yet when he spoke, it was in a measured tone. ""Is it true, then, that I am betrayed by mine own?"

Kid pointed her knife at Lynx, who stood just aft behind the General. "He's duh one we—"

"Silence!" bellowed the leader of the Acacia army.

Radius raised his chin and squared his shoulders defiantly. "When your ambassador sends a lackey to murder me, I've no qualms hunting him down."

The General faced the scarred soldier. "And you, Glenn? Whom has been a son to me these long years, before and after the death of Dario?"

Glenn stood at attention. "Sir Lynx has an agenda that is against Acacia, m'lord, by direct or indirect actions."

"What proof have you of this?" demanded Viper.

"He has stolen that artifact from Guldove," stated the dragoon, pointing the tip of his sword toward the flame-wrapped sapphire on the pedestal.

A sidelong look was given to the catman as the General hissed, "Is this true?"

Glenn opened his mouth to speak but began to move forward suddenly, and it caught the attention of the General. While his gaze moved away from Lynx, the demi-human took a step forward and thrust a dagger between the ribs of the older man. Blood gurgled up past Viper's lips as he slid forward.

Lynx sighed heavily as he pushed the dying man from him with nonchalance. "Now this simply will not do."

Shadowy forms detached themselves from the murkiness and pounced on the bystanders, their tails nothing but streaks of flames. The catman snapped a hand out to halt the others from approaching.

"Such a nuisance you've become. Though, I must be honest in saying that I've been anticipating your arrival, Serge." The catman approached the altar in the very center of the chamber. "A wondrous artifact, this," Lynx murmured, his clawed fingers caressing the metallic shell of the Dragon Tear.

The sound of Radius's footfalls echoed over the sound of the dying as he slid next to the General's head which lain in a pool of blood. But before the ex-Deva could muster aid to help his fallen commander, Lynx snapped his arm towards the pair. Tendrils of purple jade rimmed in black coiled into an orb in the demi-human's palm, darkening as it condensed. Glenn called out to Radius and the old man looked up just as the uneven ball of energy slammed into him. Both of the old men were flung wayward. Radius's head cracked on the arm of a statue and spun airborne, missing the wing before he crashed into the ground and slid heavily into the wall.

Glenn cried out and rushed toward Lynx, but he halted as the latter aimed his palm toward the scarred youth. His empty hand was a threat that was full of meaning.

"Worry not, my friend, for you will join them soon." The Dragon Tear began to pulsate, growing ever brighter. Every now and again, Lynx turned his eyes toward it. "Serge, have you thought on what I spoke of before?" Clawed fingers hovered over the multi-faceted surface of the gem, letting the colors wash over leather and fur. His eyes were more of a green in the light than yellow as he watched the remaining four.

"Ah-h-h, you know that I cannot die, Serge, don't you? Because killing me would be the same as removing yourself from existence entirely."

"Dun be takin' in by his fast-talk," Kid spat.

The catman curled his lips into the parody of a smirk, given the shape of his maw. "Oh? That fateful day—what, seven years gone now?"

A look passed over Serge's face.

"Heh, now you remember."

The young man stared into the multitude of infinitesimal reflections of the gem. Everything else began to seem so far away to Serge, drifting on the banks of his perception like the whispering of the sea. He could see himself and he could see Lynx; he furrowed his brow as a tightness developed in the back of his head. The images overlapped until he stared at a reflection of himself halfway melded with that of the catman's.

Kid touched his arm. "Serge?"

The flickering blue light filled the chamber in rapid bursts that caused Kid, Glenn, and Guile to stagger back and shield their eyes, disorientated. Serge buckled forward, groaning as an intense pain flashed behind his eyes. He clenched his skull between his palms, causing his bandana to come loose and fall to the floor, unnoticed. No matter how hard he pushed, the pressure would not submit. The young man cried out as he felt himself twisting as opposed to separating.

"I am you and you—irrevocably—are me."

Serge's knees clacked on the stone floor. The whispered voice seemed disembodied and belonged to no one in particular that Serge could tell.

"Whadder ya doin' tuh him?" screamed Kid, although Lynx did not answer as he leaned against the dais for support.

Glenn ran to the General's side in the moment of distraction and tried to revive him.

The magician thrust his cane at Lynx, and it hit him squarely in the chest, causing the catman to growl in pain as he scraped for purchase on the pedestal. Oddly, Serge cried out in shock at the same instant. The mechanical innards of the generators clattered; the bulbs exploded as the power surging through the wires shorted out the generators in bursts of flying sparks and smoke. And then all was quiet as darkness began to descend the dimmer the Dragon Tear became.

As the catman struggled to rise from a knee, Kid helped Serge up. Worry lined her eyes. "Y'okay, mate?"

The pain was subdued and began to fade as Serge stood. "Yes," he whispered. He moved away from the woman and stood alone, gesturing for Guile to stop. "Finish it. Finish it while he's distracted."

The blonde looked at the young man and their blue eyes met. He was the first to look away. "Do it," he croaked.

She nodded stiffly as she took a few steps towards Lynx. The demi-human fell onto his back and he half-dragged, half-crab-walked away from her the closer she came. Her eyes met those feline ones. She stopped. A look of determination hardened her expression as she leveled her knife.

"An' now," she whispered. "Now—"

"Revenge." It was Serge.

Kid turned to look over her shoulder at him. It was a brief glance. With her eyes back on the catman again, she stared as her jaw worked. "Aye."

Serge was beside her. "You must be quick," he whispered. "Before he recovers."

There was urgency to his voice, and yet she still hesitated. Confusion was setting in, mixed with a wave of varying emotions. Serge coaxed the knife from her hand. He tossed the Swallow to the ground; the shells clattered on the stone floor as he tested the balance and weight of the weapon. "Such a personal blade; it's one of betrayal."

The quizzical look Kid gave him seemed to seep into Serge, and he said in a huffed rush, "I'll do this for you, Kid." And he took a step forward. "I shall avenge Lucca for you."

"What?" The single whispered word was lined with confusion.

"What?" Serge asked in an irritated tone. "We must finish this now."

There was an utter lack of comprehension in her expression as she stared at him. "Ye—ye said yuh'd avenge Lucca fer me?"

Lynx croaked something as he continued to struggle to rise to his feet.

Serge sighed slowly, quelling his aggravation. "And? That's what you want, is it not?"

The woman looked from Lynx to Serge. She nodded. "Aye."

"Then what is the problem?" Serge snapped, turning back to Kid.

She whispered, "I neva told ya her name."

"What is going on?" asked Guile in a tone laced with panic.

Kid searched Serge's eyes as if there was nothing else left in the world. She looked back to Lynx—his eyes pleading with her in such a human way. Her own eyes widened as she brought her gaze back to Serge. "Oh, gods…"

Serge sighed again as he closed the little distance between them; the breath was still leaving his mouth as he slid the knife into Kid's side until the hilt pressed against her skin.

Guile shouted, "Serge! What are you doing?"

Glenn, roused by the magician's cry, came around the corner. "What happened?"

The fear in Guile's voice cracked his speech. "He stabbed her!"

They watched as Kid slid down Serge's chest. Casually, he pushed her off the blade that was now covered in blood.

As the two men charged Serge, the violet miasma circled Serge's body. A ring of purple shot out, followed by a series of vaguely black feline shapes. They slammed into both men before knocking them clear off their feet.

Serge smirked and looked over the carnage, over the bodies that littered the floor. He chuckled throatily. "Ah, Kid, whomever you are, whatever you're supposed to be…"

He didn't finish the sentence as he reached down and took a handful of her hair and yanked her up. He cocked back his arm holding the knife and bared her throat. As Lynx moved, the young man lowered his arm a bit. His blue eyes stared at the catman. With brutal nonchalance, he dropped Kid. Her head clacked soundly on the granite floor.

"Look at you, Serge," the man said as he sauntered over to the demi-human. "Wait—I mean Lynx. You see, I was not lying when I told you that to kill me is to kill yourself." Serge dropped the dagger without a second thought.

He watched as the catman clawed at the discarded Swallow, but his hands were too much like paws. He couldn't gain purchase on the weapon, so he cradled the shaft in his arms.

"Still trying to come to terms with a new body, hmm? It's alright. You won't have long to wait until it's over." Serge crouched down next to Lynx. "You see, this is all the design of Fate. Seven long years ago, you weren't meant to live. You should have died." Whimsically, he continued as if lost in a reverie. "Love and hate; good and evil; this world is about balance."

Serge tried to coax the catman to look at him. Lynx fought against it as he reached a paw up to scrape at the face and neck of the young man. But it was a simple tuck of his head back that stopped all effort from Lynx as claws grasped the chain of the necklace. "I am—look at me when I'm talking to you." When Lynx struggled not to oblige him again, Serge jerked the catman's head harshly, bellowing, "Look at me!"

The young man took a few calming breaths that were drawn in through a grimace. Anger caused him to rise quickly, which caused the chain to break, and then the paw fell to the pouch on his waist, breaking the cord. Serge pushed the belongings away which caused Lynx to collapse back down. This seemed to satiate something inside of Serge.

"Enmity is the only truly balanced thing in this world. As you are no longer necessary," the young man said, palming the Dragon Tear and hefting it, "I see no reason not to balance the scales."

Energy began to flow over Serge from the artifact. The blue ropes became indigo as they swarmed across his body. A hand aimed at Lynx and the demi-human rose up off of the ground, still cradling the Swallow in encased arms. Even Serge began to levitate. Ribbons of elemental force snaked outward, encompassing the catman.

"Chrono Trigger, you are no more."

The entire chamber throbbed with such malevolent force that the statues and pedestal exploded. The fragments hovered, shrank back, and then burst out with velocity. The energy coalesced and pulsated around Lynx; the orb of shadowy light swallowed him. Another eruption of turbulence cracked the circular wall; it ruptured the Dragon Tear, scattering its shards across the chamber in a wave of glittering azure stars.