A/N: Short chapter compared to the others, I know, but sometimes quality over quantity is better. I hope it's enough until my next update!

While Melody and Seymour were rapidly being separated by miles of air, there was something happening on Mount Gagazet. Within the bowels of the sacred mountain, there was a system of caves that had previously been undiscovered by both the Ronso and Yuna's party in the previous years. For many years, the only inhabitants were animals, fiends, and the occasional cluster of Pyreflies. Now, deep within the black, damp mazes, torches glittered at the end of sticks wedged into various cracks. Burned-down candles littered the crevices in white waxy blots. Three figures descended through this grim place—two were walking and one was being carried between them. Only the middle figure's face was visible and it was streaked with tears. The poor little Ronso kitten was very, very young—he had only just weaned from mother's milk the year before and was bound at both wrists and ankles. His mouth was also gagged, as his baby teeth were still quite sharp and had done the other two some damage. He himself was injured and blood was trickling from a cut on his forehead. It was only under threat of his parents being killed that he'd finally settled down. Now he was crying silently and couldn't stop. He didn't know where they were taking him.

They reached an enormous cavern after what seemed like an eternity and the robed figure on the left prodded the kitten in the side.

"You'd better behave yourself in here, little one," he said with a dark chuckle, "she won't go as easy on you as we did."

They plopped the kitten in the floor near the middle and the other robed figure went to fetch someone. The kitten squirmed against his bindings, as they were cutting into his soft downy fur. His short tail thrashed against the damp dirt floor pockmarked with footprints. It was the only way he could express his unhappiness without getting kicked in the ribs. It had already happened once and he was in a lot of pain. The robed man guarding him looked as if he was tempted to do it again.

"You have the youngling?" a surprisingly sweet voice asked, "I want to see him."

A lady came into view. Her robes were a shimmering gold color and ruby red ringlets cascaded down her shoulders. She knelt next to him, seeming to not mind if her robes got muddy in the process. The kitten stared into her eyes, taken aback by how beautiful the woman was. She tugged his gag loose and he hauled as much air into his tiny lungs as he could. He wheezed noisily before his breath began to sound better. She stroked his feather-soft head and made a sympathetic noise when she saw the blood there.

"Did these nasty guys hurt you? Poor baby…"

She healed the wound just by touching it—it was rare among his kind, but not impossible. He gazed at her hands in wonderment, expecting some sort of glow, but they were ordinary hands.

"If you promise not to run away, I'll take these off for you. Have we got a deal?"

He panicked temporarily when he saw the knife, but all she did was cut away the rope. He sat up and tried to speak:

"I…I want to go home…p-please…"

"You will," she said kindly, "but first, I need to you to help me with something. Just one thing and I promise I'll take you straight back to your mother and father. Can you do that?"

"What's the thing?" he asked, heart pounding like a desperate little bird trying to escape its cage.

"Come with me."

He followed her to the back of a chamber. She lifted him onto something that looked like a table with a shining white surface. Various kinds of machina were whirring there and the kitten flinched.

"What's your name, dear?"

"Jimki," he said quietly, watching the moving parts with trepidation.

"Don't be afraid, Jimki. It won't hurt you. Just sit still, all right? We'll take care of the rest."

She pressed a switch on the wall and the table was suddenly enclosed in glass. Jimki, feeling that something was wrong, smashed his little hands against the glass, but he couldn't break it. Blue sparks began to dance on the surface, stinging him and forcing him to back up. A mewling sound escaped his throat as the grating, whining, groaning sounds of the machina grew unbearably loud and he clutched his small hands over his ears. The table surface he was standing on began to glow. He suddenly felt exhausted and dropped to his knees. A white gas filled the chamber and he tried to flatten himself out to keep from breathing it in, but crept into his nose and mouth anyway. Then, suddenly, the whole world seemed to be dimming. His muscles relaxed so much that he went completely limp. For a moment, all of them thought he was dead until they saw the gentle rhythm of his breath on his sides. The woman had been touching the sides of the cage, but the sparks did not hurt her. In fact, her cheeks had become rosy and her eyes had become bright as if she were drawing power from it.

"It's time," the woman said, "drain the gas and lift the cage."

They made sure that the gas had dissipated through the pipes first, then raised the glass. The woman stroked the little kitten's baby-fur.

"Now…let's see if we can bring you home," she whispered. A black cloud appeared on her fingertips just before sinking into the toddler's scalp. The rhythm of Jimki's sides ceased immediately. There was no struggle, no squirm, no spasm. Pyreflies began to float up from his now lifeless body, but they hovered uncertainly. The red-haired woman retrieved the Summoner's staff that had been leaning against the wall nearby and began to twirl it. Sparks flowed out of her hands and began to collect on the end of it. The Pyreflies followed it closely, making it look as if she was wielding a giant sparkler. Then, the transparent ghostly figure of the now deceased kitten appeared. He stood only three or four feet away, his eyes wide with confusion. Some kind soul covered his body with a blanket before he saw it—but part of that was fear of him becoming a fiend if he saw it.

"There, you see? We did it," she told the others, "the gas, however, needs to be modified a bit. But we're there."

Jimki tugged at her skirt. The shimmering had ceased, but she could still sense that something was off somehow.

"Home now? You promised," he said plaintively, not sure why he felt so strange.

"Of course," she said in a motherly tone, "give me your hand. I'll take you there now."

They only took about two steps before Jimki became transparent again. By three, he dissolved into Pyreflies. There was a collective groan of disappointment.

"Well?" one of the robed figures asked.

"Progress is progress," the ruby-haired woman responded, "we'll still have good things to report when William returns."

"What do we do now?"

"Bury the child," she sighed, "and try to get one that can't talk next time."

The cluster of Pyreflies had vanished up through the ceiling—none of them had been paying attention to them in the last minute or so. The memories of Jimki drifted up through the ceiling of the cave, through the miles of earth, and finally, through the blanket of snow. Like glowing colored bubbles, they floated back to his home. He had been gone long enough that everyone had started looking for him. When his mother moved to pick him up only to find his touch icy and his heartbeat gone, she let out an anguished roar. Kimahri himself was quite grieved, for he knew the young couple. They had been too young to be married when he had first met them, but they'd grown up quickly in the last few years. He knew that the poor little boy would have to be sent, as children were even less resistant to becoming fiends than adults were. While the preparations were being made, he told his parents what had happened and where he'd been taken. After he had been sent to the Farplane, everyone gathered in the center of the village to figure out what could be done.

"Our numbers too few," Kimahri said darkly, "we will need help. I find Yuna. Until then, don't let children out of sight even for minute."

He was calm by outward appearances. Sad, yes, but calm. On the inside, his fury was boiling like lava. First that detestable Seymour had invaded his homeland and killed off his friends and neighbors. Now there were new people meddling in matters they shouldn't be meddling in. It was bad enough that so many adults had been killed and that there were so many orphans. Who would do this to a child, however? He found the communication sphere that Yuna had left with him when the party had split up and used it to contact hers. Wakka and Lulu had one, as did Rikku before Yuna had decided to travel with her. While he hated to ask favors, he knew she would help. It was hard to swallow, but the best leaders always knew when to ask for help. He would not fail them this time.

Melody had, at some point, mercifully fallen asleep. When she awoke, William was nudging her awake. Though she would rather deal with an enormous swarm of piranhas than this man, she followed him without resistance. A part of her wildly hoped that Seymour might have been able to track them and would help her get out of here. There was no such luck, as when they left the ship, he was nowhere in sight. Sighing, she hoped Kevin was all right and wondered if she'd lain her egg yet. They hadn't even found a decent spot for her to nest. She rubbed her eyes as they stood there in the soft purple twilight. She glanced down and realized that they were back at the Moonflow. As was the case before, the Pyreflies were attracted to her and swarmed around her with their mournful songs. The two Shoopuffs that were standing there by the water had their long elephant-like trunks entwined, clearly infatuated with each other. Melody noticed that one had a scar on the back of its rear thigh.

"Oh…what happened to it?" she wondered out loud.

"Rumor has it that a drunken guardian thought it was a fiend and slashed at it with his sword," William smirked, "but that's not important now. It's almost night—you know what happens here at night, don't you?"

Melody touched one of the Pyreflies. It settled on the tip of her fingers, a thing of pure light, yet having a difference in feeling from the air that she couldn't explain. Memories always had weight to her—some more than others.

"They're coming," she said, "because they're attracted to the river and the flowers."

"That's right," William said, as if praising a young child, "and do you know what you're going to do with them?"

She watched the Pyrefly float away.

"You have no idea what you're asking me to do, William. You're asking me to touch a plane that I have no business digging my fingers into and pulling someone away from their afterlife. That's just cruel…and think about what it's going to do to the people around here? The dead aren't meant to mix with the living—not like this."

"Do it anyway," William insisted. Melody stood still, her arms crossed and her curtain of bangs partially hiding her eyes. She looked the part of a child who is reluctant to do something but knows they're going to be made to do it anyway.

William motioned to one of his goons standing behind her. The goon grabbed Melody and stuck a syringe full of clear fluid into her neck.

"Now then…let's try again," he said with a sinister smiling whisper, "Beckon them, Melody. Call them to you."

Melody's eyes had glazed over, the pupils dilated to the point of where the green rings on the outside barely showed. She looked at him with a slack-jawed stupefied expression. She thought she saw a flash of white in the woods, but she couldn't quite make out what it was. Then, her mind seemed to grind to a halt. Time lost all meaning for her. She felt blissfully peaceful and her muscles seemed to have turned to water. They felt like graceful rivers in her skin as she took hold of her sword hilt. As she held it in her hands, it became a Summoner's staff.

Maybe I will do it, she thought dumbly, if only to show them what a terrible idea this really is…

The part of her mind that was humanized felt a bit of mean-spirited fun. It would serve them right if she attracted a bunch of fiends to chase them. She would never let them be hurt, of course, but they would get a good scare. She could see so much darkness in them all and it sickened her. If her higher consciousness had been functioning, she might have been horrified and repulsed at thinking such malicious things. On legs that felt like they were walking through water, she waded into the tall grasses, then into the water. It took her a solid minute to stop staring at all the Pyreflies, but she eventually raised her staff and began to dance. How she knew to do this, she did not know. Her feet seemed to be moving of their own accord, as did her arms and hands. She was terribly clumsy, almost falling into the water several times, but the overwhelming sense of gravity overtook her. Pyreflies began to zigzag all around her, moving in erratic patterns like angry wasps. She felt herself being lifted on a column of water and the sky suddenly came alight with more Pyreflies. The shimmering colors began to flow toward her staff, reforming into their former shapes. All around them, people of the past began ghost about on the wind. They grew more solid the more she turned and twisted. She was vaguely aware that she was singing—though to them, herself, or to anyone who would listen, she wasn't certain. Within seconds, she had pulled down at least ten people. Then, she collapsed in the water and had to be hauled out before she drowned.

"Good little slave," William praised her, though she was unconscious. The previously departed now walked uncertainly along the banks, clearly puzzled as to what had just happened. William laughed joyously.

"Take her back to the airship," he instructed, "and let her rest. She's earned it."

He touched the shoulder of a man who wandered past. While the man stared at him incredulously for a moment, he didn't fade. He instead just continued on his way, looking at the two Shoopuffs. He was there but not there. He was not fully alive the way Seymour was—but perhaps that took time. While William thought this over, he realized that more and more people were emerging from the woods in the same state.

A figure with a flowing coat was one of them. He watched the men take the girl inside the ship. Then, with an agility and stealth that one only acquires after countless battles, he crept inside and almost seemed to merge with the shadows. Not quite formed all the way, but not wraithlike either, he had the same "shadow of uncertainty" as the doomed Ronso kitten Jimki. The two thugs that were talking were oblivious to him, though they clearly felt uneasy.

"I don't like this…I don't like this at all, but what we gonna do? He's bloody mad, I tell ya!"

"Oh, shut up, you superstitious idiot. Nothing's going to happen—you'll see."

They dropped the unconscious Melody on her bed and left. She was sprawled out as if she'd fallen from a great height. An enormous hand lifted the leg that was half-off the side of the mattress and put it by the other one. She was soaked, but there was little that could be done about that at the time being. The best he could do was cover her up with a blanket and wait until she regained consciousness. Father had not abandoned her—he had instead sent another guardian angel of sorts.

Yuna sat gray-faced at the table as they all listened to Kimahri's recording first, then the sighting of all the dead people walking along the Moonflow. There was no conceivable way that those two things couldn't have been related. She put her head in her hands, wondering what on earth to do about all of it.

I've been a fool to think that just because Sin is gone that things would stay peaceful, she thought wearily, and that all my troubles would be over. Nothing could be further from the truth.

A third recording showed a woman in the water. Though it was dark enough that her features weren't plain, there was no mistaking that this was the Melody they were looking for. It was the same dress she'd been wearing when Yuna had first met her. They all stared, transfixed at the image, for a while before exchanging uneasy glances.

"Man…a voice that even Pyreflies respond to," Wakka grimaced, "makes ya wonder what we're really dealin' with, ya?"

"Which is why it needs to be stopped," Lulu confirmed, "one of us should take the sphere to Seymour and have him identify her."

"What if he lies about it?" Rikku asked.

"Why would he? She doesn't know he's with us," Yuna replied, "besides, if he really wants her back that badly, he'll tell the truth."

It would be like Seymour to throw someone considered a liability to the wolves, but she suspected that this Melody was even more valuable than they originally imagined. A Beckoner was something that everyone and no one wanted around at the same time. Lord only knew what would happen if these two did team up. She wondered why Melody would do such a thing.

"I'll do it," Rikku offered, knowing how uncomfortable Yuna was around Seymour, "I'm fast enough that he could never hurt me."

She took the sphere and carried it down the hallway, the soft turquoise light fading as she retreated. Yuna tried to force a smile as she instructed the crew to go to the Moonflow—either way, they didn't want to lose Melody again or something worse might happen.

Rikku knocked on the door more out of habit than of concern for actual politeness. As far as she was concerned, Seymour deserved to be sat on by a Shoopuff (or worse). Nevertheless, she entered the room with her "cool and professional" mask on.

Seymour looked up. He'd been very much on the bored side in here, though the view was fantastic. He'd practiced a few staff fighting moves though he'd had to pretend he still had a staff. Then he'd started feeling airsick and had to stay still for a while. Now he was just pondering things. Alone with his thoughts was a very dangerous place to be.

"I never did get a chance to ask," Rikku blurted out, "but what happened to your horns?"

So much for cool and professional, she thought lamely, oh well…

Seymour crossed his arms and looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"I could ask the same for your clothes," he retorted, "or is this a special occasion?"

Despite her impulse of fury, Rikku actually laughed. It was unexpected that the cold, cruel former Maester had a sense of humor. They'd all been on edge so much lately that it was a relief to find anything funny.

"Says the guy who used to think beaded neckties were cool. Anyway, we think we might know where Melody is, but we need to make sure this is her," Rikku said, planting the sphere on the table. She pressed the button and the holographic image appeared. She didn't want him to see the other two recordings for fear that he would find out about her being a Beckoner if he somehow didn't already know. The ghostly image of Melody dancing on the water appeared. He frowned as the colors bathed him in artificial light, making him look like stained glass.

"It's her," he confirmed, "there's no mistaking it. Everything about her…"

"Okay."

Rikku shut the sphere down and started to walk away.

"Wait," Seymour sighed, "where are we going?"

"You aren't going anywhere, remember? I just came in here to make sure we were thinking of the same person, that's all," Rikku said, "Yunie doesn't believe in kidnapping like some people."

"Oh, really? What would you call this arrangement, then?" Seymour asked. The door closed with a bang and he sighed. Despite trying to be rational and calm and polite, they were getting on his nerves. His dear ex-wife had been in here about three hours ago, interrogating him ruthlessly about Melody. He'd complimented her on her right hook and said that it was probably due to the punch that he was confused about this whole thing. He still didn't understand why they couldn't just leave Melody alone.

Among the million-and-one things he had been trying to work out in his head was once again what they were going to do when they got back together. If they made it out of this mess and either escaped Yuna and the others or persuaded them to leave them alone, Seymour decided he was going to try and sort out the mess with Guadosalam. He'd been thinking about it for several days now, but his resolve was tightening. They had been in the Calm Lands…he realized how close they'd come to Mount Gagazet and almost laughed. Kimahri probably would have beat him to a bloody pulp, probably would have tossed him off a cliff or maybe something worse. And he'd probably have deserved it. Seeing Tromell's face in his mind made him feel slightly ill. The old man had been so proud of him when he was growing up. He wasn't sure that getting killed was worth it, but maybe he could have done something.

He felt the ship beginning to vibrate and everyone outside was yelling and screaming in surprise. Something had happened.