AN: Finally you get to learn who the 'puppet master' is. Cookies to reviewers, pocky to those who figure out where this all ends up (this is free n easy pocky if you know your final fantasy).

Book Four of the Sorcerer Arc ~ Endgame ~ Chapter Ten ~ Interlude of Realities

He began slowly, wary of the blended magic within him, but as it remained stable he became more confident. The power he was handling - having nothing to fear with the point of insanity already passed - grew in intensity until it was visible as massive tendrils of darkness that flared with a white aura. The world, reality, began to warp and bend, the threads of the spell that he was weaving fluttering madly as they began to catch the passing time in their web. This part of the spell, the first part, was most crucial. It had to be strong enough to hold without his direct and constant input, otherwise, whilst he gathered in the past, there was a risk that the spell would fracture and break, forcefully pushing him into the nearest past moment and leaving him trapped there, whilst scrambling what would then be his future. That was if the backlash didn't kill him outright.

When he was confident that the spell structure would hold, the strands thick enough that they didn't even tremble as the passing moments were caught within the web of time compression, he began to create the second part of the spell. It was exactly the same as the first, except it was a mirror image and worked in reverse, and, where the first part had been created directly behind him - for the future could only be caught as it became the present, not before - this part was created directly in front of him. Once again, reality warped and bent, but where the flow of time had hindered the construction of the first part, it no longer flowed from the present into the past, as the future was no longer flowing into the present. But the second spell structure was no less sturdy than the first. Unlike the first, however, Squall could not simply tie off the magic and leave it to maintain itself, for the second portal had to be actively ~used~.

Carefully, aware of the magic surrounding him in a way that neither he, nor anyone else, had ever been before - nor ever would again - Squall reached through the second spell structure, using millions of hair-fine tendrils of magic to hook the closest past moments and drag them into the second spell structure. Over and over he repeated the process, the drain on his magic so great that he was only able to continue as long as he did because he was using ~all~ the magic at his disposal - all the magic in the world.

Eventually he had brought as much of the past into the 'just past' moment as he required. Now, standing in the 'now' moment, between the 'just to come' and 'just past' moments formed by the spell structures, he began the most delicate part of the process - the merging of all the moments into the 'now' moment.

The construction of the two spell structures, whilst requiring a certain degree of skill, had relied more on brute strength and raw power, and the drawing of the past into the 'just past', whilst requiring a certain delicacy of touch, had required stamina more than anything else. But to merge the moments into a single 'now' moment, a moment with which he could also interact with any particular one of the moments within its scope, ~that~ would require a skill that no sorceress - even Ultemecia, who had successfully created a small area of time compression - had ever demonstrated.

Slowly he wove the strands of magic that would draw the two moments together and encase him in a reality where only he could exist. A reality where he could change the past and literally watch the ripples of his changes pass through all the moments that had come after. It would, of course, only work to a point. He had no wish to experience - however briefly - the omnipotence of a God to whom time held no meaning. He might be insane, cheeks stained with blood tears that would not stop flowing, but he wasn't mad. In all honesty, he probably wasn't insane either, but the lack of a full range of emotions made it difficult to tell.

The weaving became ever more complex, some strands passing though his body, some starting or ending at his body. Slowly though, as he continued to weave, the strands began to tighten, drawing the edges of the spell structures together in a supernatural parody of sewing two pieces of fabric together. It was hard to concentrate, with the perception of reality warring with the attempt to perceive and understand the new, multi-layered reality. The way the moments lay, one after another, still clinging to some semblance of chronological order despite having been compressed to a single point, was rather like a squashed book.

Squall was dripping with sweat when he finally tied off the last strands of magic. He was completely enclosed within a timeless bubble of time, a paradoxical creation that was unaffected by the reality that, as far as it was concerned, no longer existed, and yet that reflected every change - and the consequences of every change - into that reality.

But there was no time to rest, no time at all in fact, and if it hadn't been for the magic that made him an integral part of the bubble, Squall would have been trapped, timeless, unable to free himself, but also unable to die - or live. Reaching into the 'past', Squall began to alter what had, in reality, occurred, watching carefully the extent and effects of each ripple caused by his changes, no matter how small. The devil was truly in the details. One small slip and Kylari would exist once more, and yet removing her from the past completely was not an option, for then history would branch off into a completely different reality. Such an occurrence brought with it the risk that his bubble of time compression would then be shunted away from the reality he wished to change, and that could not be allowed.

Finally, it was done. History had been altered, and though, to anyone who knew what the past ~had~ been, it seemed radically different, it was a superficial difference for the most part. But no one would remember, circumstances would make certain of that. It was why the end had been preordained as coming after everyone had died - a reborn, or resurrected, soul simply could not retain its memories. At least, not for long, and not without ending up more than a little insane. Of course, there were exceptions to the rule, but they were mainly where a reborn soul remembered bits of its previous life. Squall wasn't, however, certain how much Seifer, as his knight, would remember...

It was the one unknown that he'd had no choice but to allow. Such circumstances as these had never before - and with any luck would never again occur. Seifer had been his knight, and yet of the two of them only Seifer would be resurrected, for Squall's reward was, quite simply, ~not~ being resurrected - at least not in his old life. But Ultemecia's time compression, however small in comparison, had left its mark on Seifer's mind - something that, in theory, it shouldn't have done. Which meant that, in all likelihood, unless he deliberately erased Seifer's memories of history as it had occurred, the blond would, once again, be the exception to the rule and be able to remember both. It would drive him, very quickly, insane. But there had been no other options and, when all was said and done, Squall was willing to make the sacrifice - though it would haunt him for the rest of his existence - in order to finally know peace. Besides, there ~was~ the option of ~making~ him forget. With that thought firmly in mind, Squall readied himself to end the time compression.

Ending time compression and remaining alive was a process that required a delicate balance of skill, strength and speed. As soon as he removed the strand of magic holding the compressed moments together - the keythread - they would immediately begin to unravel on their own, flailing around as they did so. Considering the fact that many of the strands were either directly or indirectly woven into his very being, this was, obviously, extremely dangerous. But that was if you wanted to survive the end of time compression. Surviving the end of time compression would be counter to everything that Squall was trying to achieve and so, fully aware that this was probably the slowest and most painful way to die, Squall severed the keythread of the time compression bubble...

Painful was an understatement. The magic literally ripped him apart, on both a physical ~and~ magical level, and the only mercy was also a curse. Because where Squall had stood had been isolated from time, the intense agony was unable to touch a small part of his existence. But because, as the bubble sprang back into line with the new reality, the magic took parts of his existence with it, he simultaneously suffered decades of pain.

At last, the time compression nearly finished settling into the pattern of the new reality, Squall finally felt his life fading, and everything going cold and dark...

***

When he regained awareness, it was only the weight of knowledge, ~dead~ knowledge, crashing through his mind that reassured Squall that all had gone as planned. Seifer was staring down at him, a frown of concern upon his face - although he had to know that Squall was, and would be, just fine. After all, they were both dead. There wasn't really too much more that could happen to them.

"Hey." Seifer said, softly, sounding as though he didn't quite know what tone to take. Squall blinked and slowly sat up. Although he had been expecting it, the lack of pain was still something of a surprise. Dimly he realised that he must be in shock - if such a thing were possible for the dead - because there was really no other way to explain why he felt emotionally drained... Unless...

Almost as soon as he thought the question, the answer came to him. When he had summoned the souls of the dead using his emotions, he had sacrificed those emotions completely. If they ever returned, they would do so incredibly slowly. A tear crept from the corner of one eye. He couldn't feel anger, or hatred, or resentment - not even when he felt the anomaly in the new reality that was the consequence of Edea's misunderstanding, still present, as he had been warned, despite that understanding now never having happened. Neither could he feel any guilt for doing what he had done, nor betrayal for what he knew he had yet to do to the man he loved the most, and who deserved it least.

"Squall?" Seifer sounded worried, and looked it too. Squall, too overwhelmed by the thought that his work was ~finally~ over, ignored him and flopped backwards onto the...well, whatever it was that he'd woken up on. It certainly wasn't a bed - more like a solid block of nothingness.

***

Seifer...understood; had understood in those few moments just before he'd died, but he hadn't really ~known~. That was what had hurt, more than he'd believed possible, the sudden knowledge of everything Squall had been responsible for, everything he'd ~still~ lied about - even if the lies had been by omission. It hurt in ways he'd vowed never to let himself be hurt again - not after Ultemecia - and yet, because he also ~understood~, he couldn't hate Squall for what he'd done.

If anything, he loved him more, knowing that his sorcerer was, when all was said and done, just a man...just human; fallible, selfish, prey to hopes and desires, fears and insecurities. A man who had been gifted a terrible legacy and a worse destiny. No wonder he'd been so angry when Yevon's possession had reawakened his knowledge of what he had to do. Seifer wasn't sure what he'd have done in Squall's place - probably crumbled and failed, letting the world go to hell.

Not, he thought, that it hadn't gone there anyway. But he knew - as did the ranks on ranks of souls awaiting rebirth - that Squall had ultimately been successful. That though, was the extent of his knowledge in that regard. No one he had spoken to seemed to know what Squall had done, what sort of world they would be returning to. He wondered if Yevon himself knew, or if that too had been part of his 'experiment' - to see what new world the last sorcerer would forge from the ashes of the old world.

Seifer snorted. He wanted to hate the God, Yevon...really, he did. But his knowledge that it was really Hyne who was at fault left little room for hate on that front. He'd tried to hate for Squall's sake, for the trials his sorcerer had been forced to endure, but... Yevon had promised Squall something, something that, again, no one he had asked seemed to have any knowledge of, and that meant Yevon, for whatever reason, didn't want them to know. Seifer was quite certain, however, that Squall would tell him what it was. After all, there was no need for secrets now...was there?

***

Squall supposed it seemed simple. He had destroyed - or allowed the destruction of - the world, and all its inhabitants. In doing so he had remade the world, setting it on a path no longer bound for a short and bloody trip to hell. Not only that, but with precious few exceptions, none of the returned souls would ever - while alive at least - remember what had happened...

Little consolation when he would be able to remember every detail, every death, each time he looked at someone. It was an eventual escape from those memories that Yevon had promised him.

Unfortunately, like all deals that seemed too good to be true, there was a catch. It wasn't, however, a price that Squall was unwilling to pay, no matter that it would destroy his heart for good. For the 'bad' memories wouldn't be all he lost. He would lose all the memories in his mind, gradually, from the oldest to the newest. He would forget the too-clear memories of his ancestors, his prior lives, his childhood as 'Squall Leonhart' - something the GFs had never managed to take - his memories of Garden, SeeD, Ultemecia...and Seifer... Only then would he begin to forget about the millions of lives he had, however indirectly, taken. Only then would the burden of guilt - not that he felt guilty, but some part of him knew he ~should~ feel guilty - be lifted. Only then would he cease to be Squall Leonhart, and all that the name entailed.

Seifer was most certainly not going to like it...but then, he had the solution for Seifer. One final sin to add to the multitude of others to his name. One final sin to ensure the man he would have - and nearly had - sacrificed ~everything~ for would have a chance at happiness without him. One, final, sin...

***

When Seifer finally leaned over Squall, having reached the end of his wandering thoughts and realising that the brunette wasn't going to sit up again, he discovered that the younger soul had, to all intents and purposes, gone to sleep. It had been something Selphie had mentioned in her typically enthusiastic welcome to him. Souls could 'sleep' in order to try and contact the living through their dreams, of course, it rarely worked, and it required someone to actually be alive, but Seifer supposed it might be a good excuse for souls to - however briefly - escape the burden of knowing everything.

He shuddered as he remembered the 'Guardian of the Dead' that Selphie had pointed out in hushed tones. It had been human, once, a long time ago when it had been called - and responded to the name - Troy Masterson. He'd recognised that name; how could he not? Troy Masterson had been one of Squall's ancestors, a sorcerer who, along with several others, had sacrificed himself to destroy a sorceress. Besides its looks, the thing bore no resemblance to a human now. It was the price, so Selphie had explained, that was demanded of a Guardian of the Dead - memories slowly eroded away, more surely than a GF could take them. Emotions were nothing without memories, and so, if a soul remained a Guardian for long enough they became puppets acting on mere instinct and relying on skills so ingrained that they didn't require memory.

"You have questions you wish answered." Seifer turned, instinctively reaching for the gunblade he knew wasn't there. Some habits were ingrained so deep in life that they lingered into death - at least for a while. The figure who had spoken could only be one person...if you could call a God that. Yevon, loathed and reviled as the God of Death, the antithesis of Hyne, Goddess of Life - and yet in reality it was, if anything, the other way around. Yevon was not merely the God of Death, he was the God of the Cycle, death and rebirth in equal measure, the God of Balance, the Forgotten God.

"Squall will answer them." He replied, even though Yevon's words had been a statement, not a question. But still, the doubt remained. Squall had kept things from him even after promising not to...would death change him so much if it had not erased his own instinct to reach for his gunblade? After all, they'd only been using the weapons for half their lives, Squall had been keeping secrets since before he'd left the Orphanage, secrets that had only grown as he did.

"~I~ will answer them - Squall is...not himself anymore, will not be for a long time, perhaps will never be." Seifer tried his best to ignore the doubts at the back of his mind, but Yevon's words struck a chord. He knew Squall had sacrificed some of his emotions, perhaps forever, and that couldn't ~not~ make a difference. He was also aware, painfully so, that Squall could not have retained his sanity with that amount of magic flowing through him.

"He will be, I will help him." He glanced over his shoulder at the still 'sleeping' Squall, but Yevon's brief headshake was clear in his peripheral vision. Cold certainty gripped him, gripped his heart and mind, making his legs weak and threatening to bring him to his knees. "What did you promise him?" He grated the question out, fearing the worst. Yevon was staring at him kindly, but there was sorrow and pity in his gaze.

"Freedom." Yevon sighed. "He does not wish to return to a reality that would only torment him with what was, for the rest of his life. His mind would break beyond repair." Seifer waited; there had to be more, because if Squall sought freedom from the memories then he could neither return to life - if what Yevon was saying was true - nor remain in the Lands of the Dead. "He wishes to become a Guardian of the Dead, to atone for his actions, and to forget."

***

It was like flying through a void, nothing except darkness, nothing to indicate whether he was actually moving at all, and yet he knew he ~was~ moving, circling the 'dead' world he had created, watching, waiting...

He hadn't just come here to escape Seifer's inevitable questions - Yevon could deal with those, he was tired of being the 'strong' one, the one with all the 'answers' - rather he had come here to watch as the people he had killed were resurrected. It was atonement...in a twisted sense, for although he felt no guilt, he knew he should, and therefore he knew he should somehow pay for what he had done. Yes, it was a duty, but it was something ~he~ had chosen for ~himself~. It was neither destiny, fate, nor karma, just...a decision. A reaction for his action.

His patience was rewarded as bright pin-pricks of light began to appear, slowly at first, then faster and faster until the void was defined as a dark sphere within a void. The dreaming world, the fringe world between the Land of the Living, and the Grey Lands. His attention flickered from one light to another, each representing a resurrected soul, each both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Enraptured by the brief snatches of lives he glimpsed as he touched hopes and fears, it took a while before Squall noticed that the influx of souls had slowed to a more regular, more balanced level.

It was time to return, time to sever his last tie to destiny...

***

"No." Seifer's rejection of Yevon's statement was firm and flat. He would not believe it. Not from a God he knew - all too well - had manipulated everyone like puppets, but most especially Squall.

"He's telling the truth." For a moment Seifer thought - hoped - he'd imagined it. Prayed - though he didn't know who to - that his ears were deceiving him and Squall had actually said 'he's ~not~ telling the truth'. But moment fled, and cold despair gripped his heart and soul. He turned, slowly, afraid he would fall and barely aware of Yevon discretely leaving them alone.

"Squall?" A million questions in one word, all answered by the sorrow in the brunette's ice-blue eyes.

"I'm not human anymore - in any sense of the word." Squall sounded as sane as he'd ever been, but Seifer knew that was no indication of sanity. Ultemecia and Kylari had both been insane - and the same person, sort of, but that was beside the point - and they had both been able to hold a perfectly rational conversation, at least as long as certain subjects were avoided.

Slowly Squall sat up. He could feel his thoughts whirling in a dozen different directions, the manic laughter at the back of his mind making it hard to keep track of what he was saying, what he was doing...even who he was talking to. He looked down and found himself suddenly and inexplicably fascinated by the wrinkles on his hands, the creases at the joins, the way the skin stretched and bunched as he clenched and opened his fist.

"But a Guardian? I've seen what they become." Seifer shuddered. "~They're~ not human. You...if anything you're ~too~ human." He watched as Squall looked up sharply from his examination of his own hand, noting with a touch of fear the long seconds it took for confusion to clear from the brunette's eyes.

"Seifer..." The tone was reverent and heart-breakingly sorrowful. The blond didn't think twice about kneeling and pulling Squall into his arms, didn't think to question as the brunette pulled back just enough for their lips to meet, didn't think to wonder as a hand threaded into his hair on each side of his head, holding him steady, didn't think...

***

Yevon watched as Squall pulled back from the kiss with Seifer. The blond's expression was dazed - not surprising given he'd just had some fairly major memories altered, and in some cases removed completely. He'd wondered if it would become necessary for him to step in, if Squall would manage to go through with the last, final, irrevocable step. But he had, and, as he and Squall watched, the blond soul vanished, resurrected.

It was over...at long last.

AN: *hums* don't worry, a few more chapters left, so yes, a few more things will get explained - if you have questions, start asking them now, because not everything will get revealed. If I get really bored I may try and pick out anything that isn't explained in the fic itself and explain in an author's note, but don't count on that, review and let me know what you want explained.
'keythread' comes from the concept of an arch having a keystone - remove the keystone and gravity does the rest *grins*
Yes, Squall may seem massively OOC but, bear in mind that he ~is~ insane, ~and~ without a handful of emotions. His attention span has gone ~way~ down as a means of coping with the information overload that comes with being dead, but also because of his insanity. Plus he knew he had one last task to, very reluctantly, carry out. He's still having a ~slightly~ rough time.
As for the emotions, well, he can't feel most of the negative emotions (Anger, Resentment, Guilt, Hate and Betrayal) because he sacrificed them to summon the souls against Kylari. He can feel the positive emotions, but doesn't have the 'experience' of them (e.g. can't remember any 'happy' days as a child - dominated by memories of Ellone leaving). True, he loves and is loved by Seifer, but he doesn't know how much of that was real or whether it was Yevon's meddling, plus it's something that only comes out in the open once Kylari makes herself known, so most of his 'good' memories are somewhat tainted by 'bad' memories.
Anyone remember the Huffman-encoded binary message that Garden received via Ansiko? Well, since revealing its content is no longer a spoiler at this point, here is the translation: please forgive me pray to yevon and go down fighting

I have no idea how many times I have now attempted to upload this chapter with the correct formatting. For some, truly bizarre reason, seems to take great delight in stripping all the tilde (~) marks and stars (*) I'm using in this fic, which means I have to edit them back in using the html editor. And if I miss something? I have to redo everything *is extremely peeved* Whilst I love the new features that have just recently been added (replying to signed reviews and complete/in progress status indicator), adding new stuff just doesn't make up for not having systems that have been here for ages working correctly.
*sighs* right, rant over. Please review :)