He was cold, curled in the dark, head tucked between his elbows. His body shook, but he couldn't tell if it was a shiver from the chill or a convulsion of pain. His head spun, he was blind, paralyzed—he couldn't tell whether he was asleep or awake.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the darkness, but he didn't know why.

Something soft touched his shoulder and his trembling stopped. He was too weak to lift his head, but he didn't need to. He knew that warmth, he knew whose hand squeezed his shoulder, he knew which dream this was.

"Dad," he muttered.

"I'm here." The voice came from far away, flowing and pooling like water into the forgotten nooks and crannies of his mind.

"Why?" He couldn't tell if he spoke aloud, or only in his dazed head. "What did he do to you? To mom? To me?"

The distant voice kept its silence. But Lloyd could feel its echoes, hovering somewhere in the back of his head, waiting to answer.

"Am I dead? Will you let me die?"

"No."

That was just like his dad. Always curt, always strict. Always no. No. No.

"Don't die, Lloyd."

No. No.

I won't. Not before I kill him. Not before I kill… I will kill…

No.

When the screeching alarm ripped Lloyd from his uneasy sleep, he was still mumbling nonsense to himself. He sat up slowly, limbs throbbing. His skin alternated between pain and cold in a confused kind of numbness. He groaned, wiped sweat from his face, and glimpsed the back of his hand. He fell back onto his bed, staring at it.

The exsphere under his skin had broken the surface sometime during the night, and now sat on his hand like a crystalline red wart. He scratched at it, picking at the edges, trying to peel it from his skin, but with each attempt, a burning pain shot from the little stone to the tips of his fingers. It was too firmly embedded, and he didn't have much time to pick at it before his cell door slid open and the guards ushered him into the hall. He had work to do that day, and his exsphere wasn't going anywhere, at least not yet.

Lloyd didn't know how many days passed, or even if they were separate days at all. His sunlight was nothing but a headache, the shadows of the halls instilled no relief in him, but only exacerbated his pain and exhaustion. He did not see Kvar during that time. He knew the next time he caught a glimpse of that man, he would kill him. Lloyd knew he would happily march through a shower of bullets, gladly endure the gauntlet of blades and whips as long as he got to Kvar in the end. He knew he would throw himself straight to hell as long as he could take that bastard with him. So it was probably best for the both of them that the Grand Cardinal made himself scarce.

Spurred on by the hateful energy inside him, Lloyd endured. Somehow he was able to put one foot in front of the other, somehow able to push through the aches that jolted through every inch of him when he moved. The only pain he could not ignore or escape was the stinging of his hand—consistent and excruciating, the sensation of exsphere growth was novel to him. Before the little stone had broken the surface, it had remained nothing but a sore ache. Now it both burned with the dry feeling of a scab and the wet sting of a fresh cut. Its intensity would recede and return, sending slow waves of agony up to his elbow. Occasionally he would muster the bravery to glance at the thing, at the ugly red stone growing on his inflamed skin, and wonder if it was even possible to separate oneself from an exsphere once it started growing. As far as he knew, once the thing was taken off, the host either died instantly or went insane. He had never witnessed the second eventuality, but he'd heard fantastical stories from other prisoners of green-skinned monsters, scaly and blind, that had once been human but whom the exsphere had driven mad. Of course, he didn't believe them. Those at the ranch would make up any old horror story to make themselves feel better about their own situations.

The sun rose bright and unforgiving when Lloyd found himself dragged from the yards and into the basement of the medical wing. He figured it must've been for a routine checkup, but he could not gauge the passing of time accurately enough to know for sure. Mercifully, Kvar failed to show, but the attending physician seemed pleased with his progress. "It always grows better once it breaks the skin," the man observed, voice breathy and soft behind his mask . "Yes, most promising." Lloyd was only thankful that he didn't have to have his hand slit open so they could see what was going on inside. Though given the pain the damnable little thing had caused him once it rose to the surface, he would've almost preferred that option.

Lloyd clenched his teeth as the physician prodded his exsphere, muttering to himself. He was so engrossed in the stone's progress, he didn't see his two medical aides shift slowly behind him. At first Lloyd didn't either—he just tried to keep his breath steady and endure his discomfort as the doctor prodded. But the way they moved, deliberately but furtively, caught Lloyd's attention. When he lifted his eyes to theirs in silence, he almost thought he recognized them.

He said nothing as the two aides approached the preoccupied doctor. One of them looked to the other, then to Lloyd, and gave a conspiratorial nod. Lloyd swallowed the lump in his throat as one of the aides raised a staff, wooden and heavy, above its white hood. In a flash and a bone-chilling thump, the physician fell. Lloyd blinked, looked at the doctor tumbling forward into his lap, head bleeding, and blinked again. The incident was so quick, so strange to him, it momentarily paralyzed him. It seemed he was merely daydreaming again, that another nightmare had leaked into his waking hours. He half expected the bleeding doctor to turn into his father, half expected himself to fall back through the floor at any moment now and wake up in his own cell to the screech of the alarm.

When one of the medical assistants removed her mask, he hoped fervently that he was awake. "Sheena!" he said, and couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"Happy to see me?" she said, tugging at his restraints.

The second aide removed hers, and Lloyd saw it was Genis' older sister. "We're going to get you out of here," she said. "So it's in your best interest to be quiet and do what we tell you."

Lloyd pulled his hands free with Sheena's help, and swore to Martel that if he woke up back in his cell after this unexpected turn of events, he would march up to heaven and kill her himself. "Where's Genis? The Chosen?" he croaked, stepping out of the chair and reassuring himself he was in the waking world.

Sheena smiled. "They're here too."

"Against my advice," Raine muttered. "But they insisted they had to free as many people as possible."

"What? Really?" Lloyd could barely walk, much less think clearly. "How in Martel's name did you pull that off? And how did you get in here?"

Sheena helped him along the tiles, frowning at his shaking legs, his weak gait. "Some guy named Pedro escaped here a while back. He helped us. Told us how to get in and out of the ranch."

Goddess bless that brave bastard, Lloyd couldn't help thinking triumphantly. Gods bless him and the girl who helped. "Rest her soul," he found himself muttering.

"What did you say?" Sheena asked. When he stumbled, she pulled his arm over her shoulders and held him upright.

"I said… how is he? How is Pedro?"

"He's dead," Raine said.

"Oh." Lloyd's heart sank. "Desians?"

"No. He died on his own."

So that was that. Pedro had paid the price all of them paid at one point or another.

"Can you stand on your own?" Sheena asked him.

"Yeah," he answered, recovering his composure enough to steady himself on his own two feet.

"More importantly, can you fight?" Raine asked. She handed him a sword of Desian make, obviously stolen.

"Of course I can." He took the hilt, relieved to have even a simple weapon. He wondered if this cheap thing would be enough to slice his way out of the ranch. He knew he could fight, but winning was another matter entirely.

The three of them exited the medical wing into the hall just as the ranch-wide alarm sounded. They scrambled up the empty stairwell to the yard, where hundreds of prisoners jostled in chaos, making for the entrance. Above their bouncing heads, Lloyd could see the shining metal move in the sunlight, and heard the unmistakeable screech of the gate opening. His heart rose in half-triumph as he snuck around the perimeter of the yard after Raine and Sheena. Most of the guards were too preoccupied with the escaping prisoners to notice that two uniformed medical assistants were sneaking away with one of their crop.

They were halfway to the exit when something took hold of Lloyd and wouldn't let go. "Wait," he said. His companions turned, incredulous eyebrows raised. "I need to get something. You go find Genis and the Chosen and help them get out." Before either of them could protest, Lloyd dashed toward the Desians' quarters. Since all the guards and their superior officers were out in the yard trying to quell what was quickly turning into both an escape and a riot, it was easy for him to make his way to the highest floor, where he knew Kvar kept his office. Lloyd had to try a few doors before he found the right one.

The Desian lord stood at the far window, overlooking the yard. He seemed fully immersed in the chaos below, and did not turn when he heard the swishing of his automatic door.

"I would appreciate a report," he said, eyes glued to the glass.

Lloyd said nothing, just crept along the carpet of the office in silence. A blue glint brought Lloyd's gaze to the desk between him and Kvar. There lay his sword, sheathed, and next to it sat his exsphere, still attached to its key crest. On the corner of the desk lay Kvar's collection of poetry, and Lloyd could spy the glint of the locket serving as its bookmark. He stepped silently across the carpet, and picked up the sword as discreetly as he could, leaving the Desian machete in its place.

"A report!" Kvar barked, eyes still fixed on the yard. Lloyd slipped the locket out of the book and wrapped the yarn around his wrist. He grabbed his exsphere, and after instinctively trying to lay it over the one he grew himself, slipped it onto his opposite hand. It made contact with his skin, warm and reassuring, just as Kvar turned around, evidently irked at his subordinate's disrespectful silence.

Something that might've been relief passed over the Cardinal's face when he saw Lloyd. "Oh, dear me. I thought you'd escaped with the rest of the rabble. But you seem to enjoy my company too much to pass it up for freedom."

Lloyd unsheathed his sword. "Where's my dad?"

Kvar raised his eyebrow in response. He smirked slightly, stepping toward Lloyd. The tip of the sword touched his chin, and he smiled as if daring Lloyd to just lean in and drive it through his throat. "He's serving Lord Yggdrasill, like the rest of us."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lloyd said, but in his mind he saw that face, that cruel, cold-eyed face of the man that had orchestrated the capture of his father. That was Yggdrasill, he knew it.

Kvar only chuckled quietly as he backed out of reach, circling around the desk.

"What about my mother?"

"Your mother? What about her? She was a valuable asset. She gave us the best exsphere we've ever seen. A subject truly worthy of the Angelus—"

"No!" Lloyd shouted. "What did you do to her?"

"Dear boy, I didn't do anything to her. You think I'd waste such a spectacular specimen? In fact, despite the efforts of my less sophisticated colleagues, it was probably my doing that she survived as long as she did. No, it was your father that killed her."

Lloyd shouted, thrust his sword forward, aiming for Kvar's face. The Desian swiftly stepped aside, cool and amused, as usual.

"He never told you? My, that's awkward." Kvar dodged another blow. "You think he'd have the decency to tell his own son what he did."

"You shut up!" Lloyd screamed, the black anger inside him boiling to the surface. His exsphere burned—they both did. Energy flowed through his arms and he swung again, only to slice air.

Kvar laughed. "This is precious." He sidestepped Lloyd's thrust and spun, kicking him in the back. Lloyd fell forward onto his knees, coughing. He turned just in time to receive a good kick to the face. He flew back into the desk, sputtering, wiping his bleeding lip. "In fact," Kvar continued, a little too satisfied with himself, "if I recall correctly, it was the very sword you're holding that he used to run her through." Lloyd stabbed at the Cardinal's heart and missed. "Or did he slit her throat? It was quite a while ago—I can't remember every little detail." Lloyd pushed off the desk and toward Kvar, lifting his blade. The Desian spun out of the way, and the sword followed him, barely nicking him in the cheek.

The Cardinal seemed pleased, as he always did. "Nothing but insolence," he muttered. "But show me what you can do with two of those things on your side."

Kvar clearly did not want to play around. He dashed toward Lloyd, arms outspread, lightning webbing his fingers. Lloyd barely had time to raise his sword before Kvar clapped either side of his blade, sending a jolt through the metal and into his arms.

Lloyd smelled his flesh burn, felt his muscles turn to rock. He clenched his jaw so tight he swore his teeth were breaking, and there was no air in his lungs for him to scream. He fell to the floor, blind with pain. He could barely hear Kvar's laugh, and a horrifying sense of deja vu swept through his mind. He could not think of what would happen if he failed again, if Kvar took his exsphere, put him back in the cell, harvested the stone growing under his skin… No. No, that couldn't happen. He grit his teeth and told himself to get back up, to cut him open, to rip him apart. Kvar bent to pick up the Desian-made sword from his desk and lowered it, tip pointed toward Lloyd's throat. Lloyd couldn't get up, couldn't lift his arms to save himself. The smell made his stomach turn, but he couldn't move. His mind was the only part of him that seemed functional, and even then it just turned over itself in panic. If only he had just fled with Raine and Sheena and not been stupid enough to seek revenge, if only, if only— Kvar's sword flashed closer to his face—

And then there was nothing but thick black smoke. He heard shuffling behind him, a frustrated grunt from Kvar, and then in a wave of blonde hair and snow-white fabric, the Chosen stood above him, light spreading like petals shining from her back. She looked like a real angel, winged and haloed in soft dust like the old murals of Martel on the church walls. She placed herself between Lloyd and Kvar, and when the smoke cleared, the Desian lowered his weapon. "Chosen One," he said, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

Lloyd took Kvar's brief distraction as an opportunity to struggle to his feet, sword in hand. Kill him now, screamed the voice in his head. Kill him, kill him…

"You're not supposed to be here," the Desian continued, narrowing his eyes.

Lloyd didn't know what he meant, and didn't care. His head was empty except for his mantra, his unwavering resolve to kill this half-human scum, and now was his only opportunity. He pushed the Chosen aside, vision tunneled, blind to everything but Kvar, now with his guard down. Agonizing blue fire spread from Lloyd's hands to his heart, setting all of his veins aflame. He sprang forward, his sword outthrust—and in a silent, clear and unbelievable millisecond, the tip of the blade entered Kvar's chest. Lloyd couldn't hear his own cry as he drove it through the Desian's heart and out his back. He was on fire, the intensity flowing through him was unbearable—his heart and lungs felt like they were splitting open. It wasn't until Lloyd had pulled his sword from Kvar's chest in a splatter of blood that he realized what he had done.

The Desian fell to his knees, silent. He lifted his cold eyes and the barest hint of a smile played across his lips. Lloyd could not tolerate that smirk of half-triumph, as if he knew something Lloyd did not. The fire in him seared his insides black with hatred as he raised his sword once more. Kvar was not a man Lloyd would let die smiling. He would cut that grin off his face if he had to.

Lloyd hammered his sword down between the Cardinal's eyes. The sight of it made him sick, but he couldn't stop himself. He drew the blade up once more and screamed, swinging as hard as he could and separating Kvar's head from his shoulders. He watched the body fall, but he couldn't stop himself from driving the sword once more through its heart. And once more, and once more, just to make sure. He was blind, he was on fire, he had to do this, he had to make sure Kvar was dead, he had to wipe the goddamn smile off his face, had to make the bastard pay for everything…

Then the Chosen was there, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him backward. The dark rage inside him switched off like a light, and the fire left him, leaving only weakness. His legs gave out and his head swirled.

"Burn in hell," he croaked before stumbling backwards, legs shaking, into the Chosen. She lowered him to the floor, where he panted and trembled, partly in disbelief, but mostly with an overwhelming feeling of liberation.

He almost couldn't believe he had done it. Finally, he had done it. His mantra settled, silent, in the far reaches of his mind, and his breathing slowed. He blinked slowly, still half expecting to wake up, to realize this whole unbelievable experience had been a dream.

"Are you okay?" the Chosen asked, cradling him.

"Holy shit, Lloyd! What the hell did you go and do that stupid thing for!" Sheena knelt by his side, grime smeared across her cheeks. She glanced over at the body of Kvar, separated into several pieces, still bleeding profusely. "Holy… Are you crazy, kid?"

Lloyd was too exhausted to justify himself. He only wheezed as Genis knelt by him, grabbing his shoulder. "Dammit, I thought you were a goner."

"Me… too," he managed to say as all three of them helped him up. Genis' sister, who sometime in the confusion had entered the room, slipped behind Kvar's desk and started fiddling with his machinery.

"I'm rigging this place to self-destruct," she said expressionlessly.

"What?" Genis squeaked. "Really?"

"If we leave the facility as is, there is a chance that operations will continue despite all our work here. I trust you have no objections."

"Well, no, but..."

"Sheena. Can you get us out of here? We can't make it down past the guards in time."

"Uh, yeah," Sheena said. She wore a nervous grimace as she dug through her obi for one of her cards. "Everyone get close, it'll be a little weird." She crept toward Lloyd and the Chosen, the siblings following, holding one another's hands tightly. "Last one, grandpa," she muttered, and she lifted her hand. A cold white smoke enveloped them, ushering Lloyd's body into an odd sort of emptiness, but his pain subsided and the agonizing fire in his hands went out. He almost started to enjoy the sensation of nothingness when he suddenly rematerialized. As he fell from the white smoke into air, he felt as if he had submerged into molasses, dense and inescapable.

He tumbled onto soft earth, and the feeling passed. Above him, white clouds crawled their way across the sky, and he tried to turn his head to look around him. He spied the tips of crumbled towers, the glint of a nearby lake, the white mountains in the distance. "Are we… are we out…" he managed to groan.

"Yeah," Sheena said. She tightened her grip around his shoulders, helping set him on his back. The Chosen took his hand in hers, and he felt a strange warmness enter his palm.

"Chosen," he said hoarsely.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Colette."

"It's nice… to meet you," he managed to croak before his eyes closed and he was lost to the world.