It had taken two gloriously uneventful days for things to fall apart, but fall apart they did… as usual. Even through the malevolent wilderness, the Shepherd, Squire, and seraphim actually managed to keep their spirits relatively high. After all, they knew what they had to do; all that was left was to do it.

Of course, there were still a few loose ends here and there, but Rose found herself quite content to tie them up later. For now, it was enough to be back with her friends, talking and laughing and making light of the darkness. Even Dezel seemed to be in a good mood for once, though his smile invariably evaporated whenever Zaveid tried to join in the fun.

But all Rose's hope and humor had vanished, now that she stood amid the ruins of what had once been the city of Marlind. By the time they'd reached Falkewin Hillside, she had started looking forward to a hot meal and bath at the nearest inn—but even before they reached the city, she'd realized with an unpleasant jolt that such comforts would prove impossible: the gates had come off their hinges, lying broken on the ground.

The sight that awaited them had been what Rose had expected, but that didn't make it any less powerful: the entire city and half its surrounding forest had been reduced to splinters. Immediately, she and Sorey had agreed to split up and look for survivors, with each of them searching half the city; they would meet in the clearing near the giant tree. Puzzlingly, Rose found no bodies in her search—but she knew better than to entertain the vague and unlikely hope that the townspeople had escaped. More likely, most of them had turned hellion and dispersed.

It was just her luck that she had picked the smaller half of town to explore; now, she stood in the center of the clearing with Dezel at her side, waiting for Sorey and the others to return. In the fading light, it was altogether too easy to imagine the ghosts of all the people whom they had arrived too late to save; but Rose found that if she turned her back on Neif's crumbling cabin, little enough of the damage was visible that she could almost imagine that the rest of the city was still intact.

It might have been empty comfort, but it was comfort nonetheless… until Dezel's heavy hand on her shoulder startled her; she jumped, her hands automatically flying to her knives—forcing herself to relax as he murmured, "You okay?"

Rose debated telling him she was fine, thank you very much, but she knew all too well he'd never believe her anyway, and let out a long breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. "No," she admitted, crossing her arms, and stared up at the branches of the gigantic tree. "How can we save the world if we can't even save the people in it?"

"You can't be everywhere at once," Dezel told her, glancing up as Sorey rounded the corner; judging by his somber solitude, he hadn't found anyone either. "And besides, if you let the source go unchecked, nothing will change. Eliminate the cause, and all these effects will stop."

Rose glowered at him; why did he always have to be so right? But before she could ask as much, the seraphim emerged as Sorey drew near, shaking his head, and came to a halt before them. "Nothing," he told her dejectedly, and that single word was enough.

"Same here," responded Rose, sighing, and kicked at the mud underfoot. "I hope Rohan and Atakk are okay," she mumbled, glancing worriedly at the tree trunk once more. The thought had crossed her mind once before, when she'd seen the ruined sanctuary, but it had been quickly displaced by the recognition of shattered gravestones—and her subsequent ghost-inspired panic.

Lailah bowed her head, raising a hand to her heart. "I can't feel their blessing anymore, certainly," she murmured solemnly. "But neither do I sense a malevolent domain. Whether pure or corrupted, both of them have moved elsewhere."

There was a collective sigh of dreary weariness before Mikleo spoke. "If that's the case, then… would it be safe to stay here?" he asked hesitantly, crossing his arms and eyeing the stormy sky. "It's going to be dark soon, anyway, and I don't think any of us have the energy to move elsewhere after a day like this."

Rose nodded in agreement, but not everyone shared the sentiment. "Speak for yourself, Mikboy," returned Zaveid, stretching flippantly with a sly sort of smirk, and the group rolled their collective eyes at the irreverence of his display. "I'm always up for anything."

"Unless it involves being quiet," pointed out Edna sharply, poking him in the ribs with her parasol; he yelped, and Dezel smiled. Rose shook her head; she'd had a couple days to get used to Zaveid's presence among them, but she still wasn't entirely sure what she thought of him. Given his macho sort of bravado, she was inclined to be annoyed; but his smiles all seemed a little sheepish, and she got the feeling he was acting in accordance with a personality that no longer fully applied to him.

"Let's make camp," decided Sorey eventually, drawing Rose out of her thoughts; she nodded resolutely, cracking her knuckles and braving a smile. If she wanted to make sure nothing like this ever happened again, she ought to start with a good night's rest.

…Well, so much for that; Sorey snored softly by Rose's side, but she couldn't for the life of her fall asleep. Maybe it was his snoring; maybe it was the uneven patter of heavy raindrops on canvas, falling from leaves above; maybe it was her late-night thoughts, indistinct and troubled. Or maybe it was the wind stirring the tent, shallow and rhythmic like breathing.

Since there wasn't enough room for Dezel in the tent, and he couldn't stay inside Rose, he had agreed to sleep just outside, under the giant tree… but the wind patterns told Rose he was still awake. Frowning slightly, she wondered whether it was safe for him to stay on guard duty so late; any of the other seraphim could rest during tomorrow's journey, since they lived inside Sorey (which was still a weird thought), but Dezel would have to walk, no matter what.

Rose debated going outside to tell him so, though she figured he'd probably just tell her to go to sleep, but one of the seraphim might have had the same idea; she heard someone emerge from the slumbering Sorey, footsteps materializing just outside. Rose shifted slightly in place; seraphim never felt the call of nature, so what were they doing? Should she get up and follow them?

"What do you want?" That was Dezel's wary voice, low but still clearly audible. He couldn't be more than ten feet away, after all, and canvas walls were thin.

"I want to know your story," responded Zaveid's voice, slightly labored as he might have sat down next to Dezel, and Rose raised her eyebrows. Curiouser and curiouser. "How you came to join the Shepherd in the first place, since you're out for blood, and why you left him and slipped into Rose like it was nothing. It's only been a couple days, and you've barely talked to me—but I can tell there's something going on, and I want to know what."

Dezel gave a long and sibilant sigh, and Rose could imagine him fidgeting with his hat; she found herself smiling faintly. "It's a long story," he told him abruptly, and Rose frowned. Making excuses wasn't like him; she'd have expected him to tell Zaveid in no uncertain terms to leave him alone and mind his own business.

"We've got all night," pointed out Zaveid. "I'll tell you mine to make it fair. Anything you want to know," he added, with unusual seriousness. "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine, and I'll do it first. Deal?" Dezel must have nodded, because Zaveid's next words were, "So, where do you want me to start?"

"How do you kill hellions with that thing?" asked Dezel promptly, perhaps indicating that strange weapon. Siegfried, he'd called it. An odd name for an odd item.

"Oh, this?" asked Zaveid, and there was a click; Rose guessed he had drawn it out. "It fires pure power. If I shoot a hellion, it neutralizes the malevolence; if I shoot myself, it gives me strength." There was a bitter smile in his voice as he continued, "But see, it all comes from my own energy. You might say I give my life to take others'."

"Why?" asked Dezel, somewhere between curious and scornful, and there was a barely perceptible rustle of leather; Rose thought he might have crossed his arms.

"Death is a form of salvation for some," responded Zaveid. "Nobody wants to become a hellion. Since I couldn't purify them on my own, I decided the next best thing was a quick end." He gave a light sigh. "My friends used to help me out, but even my more casual acquaintances are long gone by now. Dead, or worse." Zaveid paused meaningfully. "Except… one."

Rose's breath caught at the implication; did those two know each other? It would certainly explain Zaveid's guarded interest and Dezel's tense distance over the past couple days, anyway. Sure enough, he asked in a hushed voice, "Do I… know you?"; Rose remembered when she'd asked Dezel much the same question only a few nights ago, and smiled somewhat ironically at the parallel. Now he would know how it felt.

Zaveid laughed quietly in response. "It's a bad sign when someone so young has already forgotten something so recent," he chuckled. "A hundred years ago, maybe less, one of my friends and I were hunting a hellion in Lhitwerg Woods, but some kid had beaten us to it," began Zaveid, a smile in his voice. "He was just a little rascal, you know, going up against that hellion all on his own—no chance of survival unassisted. So we helped out, and between his shuriken and my pendulums, we sent that hellion right back to hell.

"When he saw us bring that thing down, the brat looked like he wanted to run," continued Zaveid, "but he was shaking too bad and sat down instead. I thought for sure he wouldn't talk, but my friend had this way about him, you know? He asked his name, and the kid gave his true one. Accurate as usual," he remarked. "Something about clear sight—and even after all he'd seen, that boy wasn't anywhere near crying. He just gave us this defiant little scowl." He laughed. "Like you're doing now."

"Lukeim Yurlin," murmured Dezel, and Rose's eyes widened as his name crossed her mind automatically; her lips even formed the word, the traditional instinct to say it, but she smothered it. "And your friend was…"

"That's right," responded Zaveid, and Rose silently encouraged him to say the name; fortunately, she almost immediately got her wish: "The two of us brought you out of the forest. Lafarga didn't like to leave you unprotected, so I gave you my pendulums. From the way you wielded the wind, I knew you'd be able to use them."

There was a brief pause as if in remembrance before Zaveid resumed his story: "After that, you tailed us for what must have been decades. I don't know if you were trying to hide it or not, but I sensed you following us. In this way, I taught you to fight… from a distance. Until one day," he added reminiscently, "you helped us take down an especially vicious drake."

"It was threatening a band of mercenaries," Dezel put in, sounding almost excited in his recognition. "I remember that."

"And Lafarga wanted to stay with them and make sure they were all right," continued Zaveid. "I knew the time had come for us to part ways; he'd been talking about finding another line of work for years. Besides," he added, "As soon as he called you over, I knew you'd stay with him, and I figured he'd be fine as long as he had your companionship. So I left." There was an invitation in his voice, almost like a question.

"Even though those mercenaries couldn't see us," added Dezel, picking up where Zaveid left off, "they believed in us. They didn't have a unifying name yet, since they weren't an organized group till that moment, so they agreed to call themselves the Windriders in our honor." He sighed, and Rose imagined him looking down at himself at his next words: "I don't really remember growing up, but I must have at some point."

"Funny how it sneaks up on you like that," agreed Zaveid, laughing. "Anyway, I really should have checked in more often, but you know how it goes. By the time I thought to visit, the Windriders had been condemned for treason, and Lafarga was missing in action." Rose braced herself for his next words, loath to relive the moment; but she knew she knew so little of the situation that she knew it could only be beneficial to listen further. "What happened to them? To you?"

"A hellion happened," responded Dezel bitterly, and Rose's tired eyes fluttered open automatically in sudden understanding before she remembered to close them again. (Where reading the wind was concerned, she took no chances; the last thing she wanted was for them to sense her wakefulness somehow, and catch her eavesdropping.) "Rose's fiancé."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up," interrupted Zaveid, momentarily forgetting to keep his voice down, though Dezel hushed him as he continued, "Rose was engaged?" She pressed her hand against her mouth to keep from laughing at his incredulity. "I've only known her for a couple days and all, but she doesn't exactly strike me as the type to settle down."

"Believe me, I was surprised too," responded Dezel resentfully. "Then again, he was a Rolancian prince. A pathetic excuse for a prince, but a prince nonetheless." His words were a growl worthy of a dragon, and Rose shuddered despite herself as he spat viciously, "Pretentious blue-blooded weakling," and fell silent.

Maybe it was just because Rose had gotten in the habit of speaking no ill of the dead, but such animosity five years after the fact struck her as… odd. She didn't realize which direction her thoughts tended until Zaveid summed them up: "Sounds like someone was jealous," he told him, surprisingly serious—and more shockingly still, Dezel did not deny it.

"I had every right to disapprove," he snapped. "She was my vessel."

At his unceremonious words, Rose's blood ran cold, and her breath caught; the pulse humming in her ears overpowered whatever Zaveid said next, and she felt as though she were falling through nothingness. Rose had previously thought Dezel's unseen companionship comforting; it was true that there were some moments scattered throughout her life which she would rather he not have seen, but for the most part, his was a benevolent presence.

Yet to find out, so suddenly, that Dezel had not only been looking after her, but living inside her? This must have been what he and Lailah had spoken of so mysteriously a couple days ago, she realized; but how could he have kept such a secret from her, while Lailah somehow understood? Had he told the others? Most of them put the pieces together long before you did, she thought.

Remembering abruptly to focus on the conversation at hand, she hastily tuned in again just in time for Dezel to say, "But Konan said he'd be willing to spare her if she became his mistress," and she choked back a sob at the memory with some difficulty. But fortunately, any whimper that might have escaped was muffled by a noise of disgust from Zaveid.

"Rose fought back, even though she was outmatched," continued Dezel, a note of sorrowful pride in his voice. "And Lafarga intercepted Konan's attack so that she could land the final blow…" She had lost consciousness shortly thereafter, Rose recalled bitterly. "But the malevolence sought out a new host, and he was corrupted."

"Is that when you lost your sight?" asked Zaveid, his voice low.

There was only a small pause as Dezel either nodded or shook his head; he did not answer his question in words. "I was able to rescue Rose," he faltered, "and a number of her comrades. Mostly the younger ones. But I—I couldn't prevent Brad's execution." His voice broke, and Rose found that her throat was constricted; she swallowed painfully, desperately trying to keep her breathing as even as possible.

"All I know," he continued, with an effort, his teeth grit, "is that it was that girl's fault. She was there the whole time." He took a deep breath as if to calm himself, but this had no audible effect; it didn't help that Rose had missed the context, if he'd said anything about a girl before. "I thought she was a hellion at first, because she saw everything, and never lifted a finger to help. But I don't care what she is," he growled, teeth clenched. "She summoned that malevolence. She corrupted Lafarga!"

There was a shivering moment of quiet as Rose's breath hitched with a sudden realization. So that was the source of his preoccupation with Lunarre's superior: a new sense of comprehension dawned on her, intertwined with dread. If Dezel was right, Lunarre was answering to the same girl whom had caused the Windriders' downfall. Why…?

Zaveid sighed, almost patronizingly, and steered the subject away. "You know, Rose must be pretty special if she stayed pure enough to keep you from becoming a hellion through all of that." He hesitated, in a way that made Rose think he had a question. "Whatever reasons you might have had for joining the Shepherd, I'll never get why you bothered staying," he confessed finally. "You weren't too cut up about giving up your spot as Sub Lord, and you even told Sorey you don't need him anymore." He sighed heavily. "So… why are you still here?"

"You really want to know?" returned Dezel almost before Zaveid had finished speaking, his voice a dangerous murmur edged with a sharp and humorless smile. "I live for my revenge." And at his last word, Rose thought of the morning she could not remember, of the very beginning of the Scattered Bones—on the verge of epiphany. "I'm going to kill the one who brought the Windriders down. And since she's malevolent, I'm more likely to find her if I travel with the Shepherd."

"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" asked Zaveid, sounding more apprehensive than curious. "Kill the girl, I mean."

Dezel laughed lightly, darkly, in a single short breath. "Rose is the perfect vessel," he remarked. "Her resonance has been attuned to my blessing from the beginning, so I'm as comfortable in her skin as in my own. And our armatus is powerful enough that if I took control, I could probably use it to kill that girl… seraph or hellion, pure or malevolent." He paused, his voice becoming lower and more fervent and frankly terrifying, as though he had repeated his next words to himself over and over again: "I could do it. I could avenge them."

And Rose's heart seemed to stop as something cold and sharp clicked into place within it. She almost retched at the sudden realization, trembling; she didn't want to understand, because she was afraid that if she fully grasped what he had done to her—what he had always done to her, from the very beginning—she would never be the same again. Rose could not keep herself from trembling as Lunarre's taunt echoed once more in her head, this time addressed to her. So many times he's pulled the strings, like you're just his pretty little puppet. It all made far too much sense.

"That's messed up," exclaimed Zaveid furiously, and Rose was momentarily startled out of her shock at his unexpectedly vehement agreement with her thoughts; the source of his voice moved as he spoke, and she thought he might have gotten to his feet. "Rose's purity is the last barrier between you and corruption—which, by the way, you have thoroughly earned," he snarled. "You should be thanking her on bended knee that you're still a seraph. If you're going to act like a hellion anyway, you don't deserve her!"

"I've learned," hissed Dezel fiercely (and he too seemed to have stood up), "that if I want to interact with humanity, I must act through a human." Zaveid took some unseen and dismissive action, and Dezel growled deep in his throat; she shivered. "I agonized over the alternatives for days, but this was the best and most painless way for us both. The Scattered Bones have risen from the ashes of the Windriders, and neither Rose nor I could have created them alone."

Rose wanted nothing more than to bury her face in her pillow and scream, but she couldn't move; there were no words that could accurately describe her horror and disgust. She felt as though rigor mortis had set in prematurely, trapping her in a nightmarish reality; had her body ever truly been her own? Had her mind? The idea that she'd always had so little control over her own existence made her head spin, and for a moment, she was convinced she would black out.

But Zaveid's voice brought her back once more. "When you look at her," he began, his voice shaking with quiet rage, "do you just see a means to an end? Oh, you may care for her in the meantime," he added scathingly, raising his voice ever-so-slightly as if to dissuade him from protesting, "but when the time comes… will you sacrifice her life, or her sanity, for the sake of your precious revenge? Do you care about vengeance more than your vessel?"

Rose found herself surprised, in the small part of her consciousness not consumed with panic, at the passion of Dezel's response. "Don't you dare," he told Zaveid furiously, "tell me I'm selfish. I care about Rose more than I care about myself. I'm not proud of what I've done, but I'd do it all again. It was all for Lafarga, for the Windriders, for her, and it was all for the best!"

After his outburst, Dezel let out a long breath, his voice becoming soft and hoarse, so that Rose had to strain her ears to hear him: "She may be my instrument of justice, but I'd sooner die myself than let her come to harm for the sake of my revenge. I wanted the armatus because I thought it would lessen the risk—but if there's a way to become powerful enough to kill the girl without having to use Rose to begin with," he continued, "then there's no need for me to put her in danger again."

At his words, she frowned spasmodically; there was such an inconsistency between what he said and what he did. Did he truly care for her, or not? In the late hours of the night, she couldn't understand the contradiction—but Zaveid made a noise of comprehension. "So that's why you asked how I do it," he responded slowly, and there was a faint sound as though he was scratching his head. "I see."

There was a long silence, and Rose half thought the conversation was over, but eventually Zaveid spoke again, and her heavy heart sank once more. "If that's the case, would you ever consider trading weapons?" he asked, almost casually. "Like, you take Siegfried and give me Rose?"

The effect was immediate. "What do you want with her?" snapped Dezel suspiciously, bristling, and Rose might have felt either flattered or furious at the exchange if she hadn't still been so numb from shock. Was this what vesselhood truly meant—being treated like a pet with no will of her own, or traded like a commodity whose only value was in malleability?

"Simmer down," Zaveid told him, and though his words were slightly lighter in tone, he was no less serious than he had been before. "It was a hypothetical situation. But if you really want to keep Rose out of trouble so badly," he added, a dark smile in his voice, "you'd have agreed without so much as a hesitation."

"Never," retorted Dezel shortly.

Zaveid let out a sharp, breathy laugh. "Then I've got a couple questions for you," he said. "Are you truly acting in her best interests by clinging to her like this—or are you just too selfish to give her up even when a better option presents itself? Who do you really care about most, and why?"

"Go to hell!" snarled Dezel, taking a couple aggressive steps towards Zaveid; Rose flinched automatically as his footsteps approached. "I've kept my distance ever since we joined the Shepherd. Now that she's started on the right path of her own free will, there's no need to take over anymore." He gave a strangled sort of sigh. "Not that I can, now, for some reason… so I hope I never have to."

"Oh, so you finally figured that part out, did you," snorted Zaveid skeptically. "But I'll bet you still haven't told your precious vessel about any of this, because you don't want her to see you for what you really ar—" A convulsive choking noise cut him off, and Rose broke into a cold sweat. If Dezel had created the Scattered Bones, he certainly wasn't above murder; would he kill a comrade…?

But there was only a brief and incredibly hostile pause before he spoke. "Not another word," he snarled, his voice trembling with carefully enunciated fury: there was the zipping sound of retracted pendulums, followed by a labored inhalation just before Zaveid finally retreated into Sorey, still coughing weakly.

And then, there was only silence. Rose didn't know how long she lay there, her heart hammering at her chest and her gut clenching in stress—considering and reconsidering the significance of everything that had ever happened to her. Everything she had refused to think about, or dismissed as trivial, or resolved to forget altogether… it all came back to haunt her with new and terrifying meaning.

More than once over that endless span of time, Rose convinced herself that this was all just a nightmare, if only because she was as powerless to dispel these restless thoughts as she was a dream. She'd never gotten the hang of pinching herself awake, anyway; at this point, she'd gladly stab herself if it meant she would be able to get some rest. But as it was, she simply lay there for untold minutes, listening to Sorey breathing and wishing she could have his peace.

Finally, Rose could stand it no longer; her chest ached and her eyes burned with unspilt tears. Sitting up slowly, she scooted her way towards the tent entrance as quietly as possible. She just had to get far enough away that no one would hear her cry, she told herself desperately; if he was still awake, Zaveid would probably be able to keep Dezel from following her.

…But where would she go? Getting softly to her feet, she glanced around the ruins of Marlind uncertainly. If she ventured down into what used to be the town, it would only disquiet her further; besides, she'd have to pass by the abandoned sanctuary and cemetery to get there. And so, smiling ruefully as she realized she had no other choice, Rose turned her feet to the only place left standing (oh, the irony)—to Dumnonia Museum.

If you thought the characters were a little less in-character this chapter, keep in mind that Zaveid has successfully gotten under Dezel's skin within seconds of each of their meetings in canon (which have both culminated in physical fights anyway), and his past is his pressure point. Add in the fact that he gets pretty defensive about his decisions, and there you have it. Angry Dezel. Hope we won't be seeing too much more of him, because he's a little scary.

Anyhow, in the coming chapters: more moving forward, less looking back! Though there might be a sort of… gradual acceleration, since there's Rose's reaction to consider. Oh, and if you caught the reference in Rose's dialogue this chapter, you win an internet cookie.

lazycat66: Haha, here's the 'information' half of the Dezel-and-Rose equation. As for the rest of it, I'm sure we'll have ourselves a merry little meltdown soon enough; but for now, it's the calm before the storm. One mystery solved; a hundred others to go!

PhoenixTheCat: Yeah, the dragon's got them beaten by like, a week. I mean, it's got flight on its side and all, and even with two windsteppers on their side, Sorey and friends can't move that fast. Especially since all this is happening too.

Straya: *reads review three times trying to compose adequate response* Okay, first of all, thank you so much for all the compliments! Of all the praise you could offer, the flattery that means the most pertains to characterization and world-building, so I'm really happy about that. Dezel is also my favorite Zestiria character, just a hair's breadth ahead of Rose, and I ship them together like hell. (Hence why I like the bad ending slightly better.) As a last note, the first part of "down the line" happened a lot sooner than everyone anticipated, but I hope it lived up to expectations!