The sun's smoky red light was just reaching over the horizon when an unfamiliar sound drew Shadow from the darkness of sleep. He sat up and stared at the back of the door leading into the hallway. The sound appeared to be coming from the common room. On the floor Interceptor woke with a yawn and a stretch. His ears pricked in the direction of the noise, but he wasn't concerned. Only curious.

"Me too, boy," Shadow said softly as he ruffled the dog's ears. Interceptor leaned into his boss's touch, but only briefly. Now that he and his boss were awake there was no reason not to investigate the soft thumps and clatters that had woken them. Shadow followed Interceptor's lead and calmly got to his feet. A strip of dried meat flavored with a handful of preserved fruit he'd picked up in Thamasa took the edge off his hunger. That same stop had garnered him a new mask of similar make to the old, though with a color pattern that held more blues and golds to embellish the black base. He thought about painting over the decoration, but ultimately decided against it. There was no harm in a bit of color.

Once he'd donned his light armor and fastened the new mask around his face he paused. There was a small set of drawers built into the wall of the Falcon next to his bed, the topmost drawer of which held his more precious possessions. He opened the drawer and regarded what it contained. The thick golden band on its frayed string was nestled on Relm's folded and scorched sash. Next to it was a small bone carving of a dog, dyed black using some plant Gau knew of from his years on the Veldt: an apology from the wild boy for helping Relm continuously "borrow" Cyan's shield. Cyan, Strago, and Relm herself had received similar tokens. Fenrir's magicite glowed faintly and was warm to the touch. Terra had noticed his affinity with the wolf-like esper, or maybe the esper's affinity with him, and told him to keep it. Others could borrow it as they wished, but the magicite was his to carry. The glow illuminated the title of an old book, From Life to Death: the Distillation of Common Plants and their Uses, something Celes had seen in one of her trips to resupply and picked up, thinking he might find something useful to apply to his poisoncraft in its pages. He hadn't, but he kept the book all the same. Between the pages lay a playing card. After his only game with Setzer, where he and the gambler used so many sleight of hand tricks between them as to cheat the game into a draw, he'd forgotten to remove the card from his sleeve. Two coins, minted in Figaro, lay side by side. He'd commented once on the things he would do to someone who didn't pay him and both Figaro brother promptly tossed him a coin. They told him, with hearty laughter, that it was payment in advance for anything they might hire him to do. His old mask was there too. Unbeknownst to him, Cyan had picked it up and stowed it away, returning it to him after it had been thoroughly cleaned of sand and worm blood. The final item was a string of beads, prayer beads. Shadow didn't pray. But neither did Strago, who had shoved the artifact into his hands one day with a mutter that he would get more use out of the damn things. A heavy enchantment lay over the beads, one that augmented the wearer's perception and reflexes to incredible levels.

Shadow picked up the ring and ran a finger along the worn string. It hadn't been in the best condition to begin with but his near constant wearing of it had not helped in the slightest. He'd have to think about getting a replacement soon. Maybe something a little more durable like a chain. Perhaps when they stopped in the next town. He slipped the worn string over his head and tucked the ring under his shirt so it lay against his skin. After a moment he grabbed Relm's sash as well and knotted it around his belt, just over his right hip. The garish red stood out as much as it had done while wrapped around his face, but Shadow found he didn't mind. There was no harm in a bit of color.

He lifted the latch on the door and silently padded into the hallway, Interceptor at his side. The dog's ears were pricked towards the gentle thumps and clatters which, with the door open, Shadow could now hear were punctuated with quiet cursing. A smile touched the corner of his lips. Now he knew what was making those noises.

The common room was empty, save for a single bright clothed figure who was busily tossing shruiken at one of Sabin's canvas training bags that she had somehow fixed to the wall. So intent was she on her task of getting just one of the pointy little weapons to actually stick in the target that Shadow and Interceptor watched her for a full minute without her notice. Shadow made it look so easy! But no matter what she did every single shruiken she threw bounced off the canvas and clattered to the floor. Relm closed one eye and stared at the offending target. Taking aim with her open eye, she brought her arm back. She would get it this time! This wasn't like all those other times she knew the weapon would stick, this time the REALLY knew!

"Ahem."

Shadow reached out and plucked the crazily spinning shruiken from the air before it could thud against his shoulder. Perhaps he should have waited until her hand was empty before announcing his presence. But the wide eyed look of astonishment on the young artist's face was well worth the negligible amount of danger he'd put himself in. He slowly rolled the shruiken across his knuckles and grinned.

Relm promptly whipped the astonished look off her face and put her hands on her hips. "What do you think you were doing? I could have hurt you!"

"Not throwing like that," Shadow replied.

The little artist looked like she was about to protest. Then she turned her head and glanced at the small pile of throwing stars that littered the ground and the undamaged canvas bag fixed to the wall. She sighed and gave a small shrug.

"I guess not. It looks so easy when you throw them!" Relm mimed throwing a shruiken at the wall in imitation the action she had seen Shadow go through so many times since meeting him nearly three years ago. "How do you do it?"

The assassin was suddenly a whirl of black with slashes of red, blue, and gold. The shruiken from his hand whistled through the air to land with a solid thump deep in the center of the canvas target. Four more quickly followed, obtained from the floor with a single swipe of his hand, all to land nearly on top of the first. He looked down at Relm with teasing eyes.

"That's how."

She smacked his arm. "That's not what I meant!" He could tell she was trying to look annoyed, but the laughter in her eyes and voice betrayed her true feelings.

Relm skipped over to the target and tugged the shruiken loose. She picked up the others from the floor as well, stuffing the collected weapons into their small leather pouch. She was back on the other side of the room in a flash, petting Interceptor with one hand and shoving the pouch into Shadow's grasp with the other.

Wide pleading hazel eyes looked up at him.

"Can you teach me how? Please?"

Pretty hazel eyes.

You'd do it no matter what color eyes she had.

Damn right.

He smiled. "Of course."

0 0 0

By the time someone else entered the common room Relm's shruiken were sticking in the target nearly every other throw. It was certainly enough to impress Gau and even Sabin had to nod in appreciation of the skill it took, although it was his training bag they were destroying in the process. Shadow had expected those two to be up and about sooner rather than later: aside from himself, the monk and the wild boy were the earliest risers of his friends by far. What he hadn't expected was for them to take such an interest in the proceedings.

Gau yipped happily when yet another of Relm's throws hit the mark. Her grin was so wide it just about split her face in two. Now that she could actually do it right, this was fun!

"Here," she said to Gau, holding out a shruiken, "You try."

He took the weapon gingerly. The only weapon he'd ever used with much success a crude spear made by imps, and even then he much preferred his own hands. But this wasn't using a weapon for hunting or killing, this was for fun. It was a game, just like lunar wolf pups using teeth and claws on each other was a game. Gau closed his eyes and imagined Shadow throwing shruikens. Every step, every twitch of muscle, every flicker of movement played out in Gau's memory. He embraced that memory, made it a part of him. It was almost like what he did with monsters. The tough part with imitating humans was not letting the wild instinct take over. Restraint and control were key. Gau's eyes popped open and he let the weapon fly.

THWACK

The shruiken had indeed stuck: four feet to the right and two feet higher than the canvas target the throwing star's points were dug deep into the Falcon's wall. Gau let out a sheepish whine. He'd never been good at restraint and control. His friends just laughed.

Shadow looked up at the shruiken, then down at the cringing boy. "You've got power," he chuckled, "You just need to work on accuracy."

"You did better than me!" Relm piped up, "At least you got the silly things to stick in something! Here, try again. Shadow can teach you too!"

"Hey, don't leave me out!" Sabin butted in, "If you've got enough of those things, I'd like to learn. It looks like a hell of a good time!"

Shadow looked over his eager pupils. "I think we're going to need more targets."

"Not a problem, I've got more training bags in my room," Sabin replied, "I'll go grab some."

He hurried off and returned scarcely a minute later with two more canvas bags in his arms. Once both were up on the wall next to Relm's, Shadow set about teaching his pupils the finer points of throwing weapons. They were all remarkably quick studies and were soon hitting the targets more often than not.

"Ifrit's hellfire!" Sabin swore when he unintentionally jabbed a shruiken's point into his palm.

"Careful," Relm teased, "It's sharp."

The monk glared at her, but could not answer around the injured hand he's stuck in his mouth to suck away the blood. Gau's eyes sparkled with mischief. There was no way he's pass up a chance to get in his own brand of teasing!

"Mr. Thou have big hands. Hands," his face screwed up as he dug for the words he needed, "Trip lots?"

"He's clumsy," Shadow supplied with an amused growl.

"Clumsy!" Gau yelped happily, "Mr. Thou hands clumsy!"

"Is this pick on Sabin day or something?" the big monk grumbled. Though his tone implied annoyance, Sabin's eyes were fairly dancing with delight. If Shadow's guess was right, Sabin enjoyed being the butt of Relm and Gau's jokes as much he enjoyed giving them a taste of his own teasing every now and then.

It was natural that the noise the four of them were making would draw more people into the common room. Most watched for a moment, then left with a chuckle to go about their own business. Edgar even had a go at the targets himself, but left after only four throws. All of which failed miserably. Only one person didn't leave. Leaning in a nonchalant fashion against a doorframe, Locke watched the proceedings with a strange fascination. It was quite a shock to them all to find their one missing companion at the end of the red dragon's blasted cave. The errant treasure hunter would most likely have been similarly floored, had they not come upon him in his moment of triumph.

A moment of triumph that turned to bittersweet sorrow after their arrival in Kohligen. All of Locke's hopes, as irrational as they were, had rested on the legendary Phoenix Stone. A treasure whose worth was beyond measure, an artifact that could restore life where none remained. It was the underlying drive behind the treasure hunter's nearly obsessive desire to explore every inch of the world. And finally, finally, his quest bore fruit! Rotten, useless fruit.

If Locke had ever said anything about this foolish quest Shadow was certain that someone would have set him straight. Whether it was Cyan, Relm, Strago, the Figaro brothers, or even himself. Any of them could have told the foolish man that what was dead did not come back. No matter what you did or how much you wanted it, the dead could never return. Though, he supposed, Locke would not have listened. This dream was what kept him going and it was not something he would have given up just because someone was talking sense.

The treasure hunter was lucky, Shadow thought. There was just enough magic in the Phoenix Stone, an ancient magicite crystal, to let him see his Rachel one last time. And when his hopes and dreams crumbled to dust, he was not alone.

Shadow deliberately matched Locke's confused gaze with a steady one of his own. What did the man want? If he had a question, he should just come out with it! Not stand there staring like a thunderstruck goblin! A happy shout from Relm diverted his attention. After much effort she'd finally gotten five shruiken in a row to stick in her target! To top it off, all of them were remarkably close to the middle.

"Look at that, Shadow!" she was practically jumping up and down.

He did as she asked, then turned back to Relm with a smile clearly reflected in his eyes. "Fine aim! With practice you might soon be a match for me!"

She scoffed in response, but was secretly pleased with the praise. To be as good as Shadow was not something she'd be doing any time soon. But she was still young and had a lot of years yet to practice!

"It's because I have a good teacher," she told him with a grin. He snorted, then snorted again when Gau and Sabin added their own compliments. But his eyes were still smiling.

On the far side of the room Locke shook his head. He could not believe what he was seeing! Shadow, the infamous heartless assassin, was smiling and laughing! The man Locke had seen callously killing anything that got in his way was practically playing with children! Was that even the same person behind the mask? Perhaps the Shadow he knew had died in the wreckage of the Blackjack and a new person stepped in to take his place. It wasn't unheard of for people to use their powers of imitation to take advantage of another's reputation. But Shadow's voice had the same rasping edge, the eyes were the same foggy blue, and he moved around in that same prowling way.

The man in black Locke was still not entirely convinced was Shadow lifted his head and stared at the pondering thief. Locke matched the look with his chin raised in defiance. Shadow had an inkling as to what was going on behind Locke's eyes. To be honest, he didn't blame him. Leaving his pupils to their practice, Shadow strode across the room towards the suddenly twitchy thief. His hand quickly moved to rest where Shadow knew he had the Wing Edge hidden, but the assassin paid it no mind.

Locke's fingers tensed and he nearly cut himself on the weapon's sharp edge when the assassin came close. The black clothed figure stared at him with those foggy, distant eyes. And did nothing. Locke's eyes darted about, trying desperately to take in any little detail, a tensing of muscles, twitch of the fingers, even a quiver of anticipation that might tell him why the other man was just staring. But there was nothing, nothing but a calm curious look in what used to be eyes harder than steel.

"What do you want?" Locke said softly.

The man in black shrugged. "Nothing." Ignoring the treasure hunter's tension, he leaned against the opposite side of the doorframe and turned his head to watch Sabin balance Gau on his shoulders so the wild boy could retrieve a few far flung shuriken from high on the walls.

Locke twitched. This simply could not be the same man who had to be bribed with large sums on money to merely walk beside someone for a short amount of time. Nor could that be the same dog, he reasoned, that nearly took his hand off on several occasions, that was right now trying its hardest to knock the burdened Sabin over, to the great amusement of Relm and Gau.

"When we went looking for Terra, how much did I pay you?" Locke abruptly blurted out.

"Three thousand gil," the assassin answered without so much as a turn of the head, "I left after we found her in Zozo. I saw you next on the imperial battleship heading to Crescent Island. You were seasick."

Locke's jaw dropped. It couldn't be! The assassin appeared to see his flabbergasted expression out of the corner of one eye. Several lines appeared by the eye's edge, created by what could only be a smile hidden by the impenetrable mask.

"Hey Shadow, join us!" Relm exclaimed, "We're going to play a game!"

The assassin snorted. "I hate your games," he grumbled. But Locke could tell this was not irritation, but rather good natured teasing.

"Too bad," Relm replied with a wide grin.

Gau yelped happily. He knew as well as any of them that Shadow would join in. "Best throw win! Right, Relm, that game!"

"Yup!" she replied, "Since I'm better than both of you," she gestured to Gau and Sabin, "I'll stand further back. You stay where you are, Shadow, because you're the best of all of us!"

Shadow nodded, but Sabin cut in before he could voice agreement to the rules. "I don't think that's enough of a handicap," the monk said with a wide grin, "We all know he'll beat us for sure, no matter what we do!"

Shadow shrugged and chuckled softly. Beside him Locke's eyes only grew wider.

"Now throw that," Sabin gestured to a crystal sword hung on a set of pegs near the doorway. It's long straight blade was formed from translucent crystal that held a sharper edge longer than any sword not tempered by magic could. The blade had been Celes' for a short time, till another enchanted blade similar to the one Terra wielded, one that acted as a conduit for the wielder's magic, came into their possession. Setzer declared the crystal sword too pretty to sell and promptly set it up to rest on the common room wall. "Throw that, and I'll be impressed."

The others laughed at the concept of someone throwing a sword. It was rather ridiculous! But Shadow didn't laugh with them. Instead he contemplated the blade, mentally judging its length, weight, and straightness.

"I think that's fair."

The monk scoffed and even Relm had a doubtful look on her face. Throw a sword? Not even Shadow could be that good!

Shadow pushed himself off the doorframe and padded over to where the sword hung. Lifting if off the pegs, he surmised that all his mental calculations had been nearly correct. The blade was perfectly straight and just the right length for a broadsword, still far too long for his tastes as a melee weapon. But for this purpose, it would do just fine. He held the hilt in a reverse grip with his right hand and rested the flat of the blade on his left. The path from him to the nearest target was clear of humans, canines, moogles, yetis, and mimes. Bringing both hands and the sword up, he drew the right back over his shoulder, as if her were hoisting a spear. He took a lunging step. And threw.

The sword cut through the air and hit the middle of the target, slicing through the canvas and padding as if it were butter to bury itself in the wall with a solid thud. Just as Shadow knew it would.

"You j-just-" Sabin stuttered.

Relm's eyes were wide as saucers. "That was amazing! How did you learn to do that?!"

Gau's only contribution was an awed, "Uwaooo. . ."

Shadow strode across the room and calmly wrenched the blade from the wall. He'd have to apologize to Setzer later about the damage. Across the room he could see Locke slowly shaking his head.

Before he could ponder the matter further Relm was at his side. She examined the hole in the target, and the wall, before letting out an appreciative whistle. Then she turned to him with a teasing grin.

"Setzer isn't going to be happy."

Shadow let out a bark of laughter. "No, he isn't."

The little artist's face took on a contemplative look. It wasn't that big of a hole, really. Setzer's reaction, of course, would make the hole twice as wide and three times as deep, not to mention bringing the silver haired gambler another step closer to Relm's prophesized coronary. It would be a shame to lose one of their companions after coming this far! She had a canvas in her room that would cover it without much trouble. A boring blank canvas: but that was something she could easily remedy!

Interceptor let out a questioning woof as she darted past. The dog, intrigued by the little artist's behavior, followed her down the hall. Shadow almost did the same. What in the world was that girl doing?

"Uwaooo . . ." Shadow turned at the sound to regard the wild boy and monk, both of whom had made their way to his side. Gau stuck three fingers into the hole in the wall, marveling at the depth. Sabin let out an appreciative whistle.

"How long did it take you to master that?"

"A long time," Shadow replied, "When I was younger-" NO! This was a topic to be avoided at all costs! Thoughts were bad, words were worse: never, never again he'd sworn. It hurt too much, the thoughts. A Shadow Bandit with a useless talent, a foolish man trying to impress a the woman who saved him. But despite knowing this, knowing deep in the recesses of his soul that this was a bad thing to do, the words kept coming. "A friend dared me to do it. I nearly cut my hand off the first time. After that, I made throwing swords into my own personal challenge."

"Well it certainly paid off!" Sabin said with a wide smile. He was oblivious to the thunderstruck assassin.

Well, look at you. There was no pain.

There doesn't have to be. There had always been pain!

Not this time. Next time?

Perhaps. Most likely.

Yes. But not always?

. . . Yes. In time. Time . . . Yes. Time.

While he was still stunned by the voice's revelation Relm bounced into the room, balancing and easel on one arm and a blank canvas in the other. Behind her trotted Interceptor, who she had somehow convinced to carry a heavy sack, containing the remainder of her art supplies, in his jaws.

Time. And a little help. Shadow could have sworn he heard the voice chuckle.

While Relm set up her art supplies Locke left his post by the doorframe. He stepped lightly across the common room, coming to a stop at Shadow's side. For a moment they stood there in silence: both of them stunned by two very different revelations. Finally, Locke spoke.

"You've changed, Shadow."

The assassin looked at him, then nodded slowly.

"Yes. I have."

0 0 0

Relm stepped back and looked at the finished product. And it finally was finished! Seven times she had stepped away to examine the "finished" painting and six of those seven she returned to the canvas with sounds of dismay and a flurry of brushstrokes. Sure this was just a little something to cover a hole in the wall, but that didn't mean it should be shoddy! What kind of artist could she call herself if she presented a less than stellar piece to anyone, never mind a friend?

Speaking of her friends . . . Relm turned to face the five assembled watchers. Though she could hardly call Interceptor a watcher: the big dog appeared to have gotten bored of the process and was currently on the opposite side of the common room chewing one of Terra's old boots. But Gau, Sabin, Locke, and, of course, Shadow were still there. They were peering over her, damn her short stature, at the painting with looks ranging from amazement to pride. Come to think of it, none of them but her grandpa and Sabin had ever seen her paint on canvas before. And Sabin didn't really count: he saw her using a magic brush when she tried to get that darn demon out of her original painting for Owzer. Very different from what she just did.

The subject choice of the painting was easy. For ages she had wanted to do a piece with all of them in it and this was the perfect opportunity! It wasn't any specific memory, but rather a collection of them, pieced together into one image of them all on the deck of the Falcon. Setzer, of course, was at the helm: where else would he be on his airship? Directly behind him Gogo watched his every move with curious attention. Sabin and Edgar were squashed together at the prow of the ship, with Edgar facing straight ahead while Sabin's head was tilted a bit to the side. He was watching a cloud that just so happened to be shaped like Terra's esper form, as if it were flying beside the Falcon. The real Terra wasn't too far away, the middle of the deck to be precise, sparring with Cyan. Relm decided to paint Cyan post visit to Doma, even though the actual memory of the moment came from a month or so before. It was much nicer to look at his smiling hopeful face than the one constantly filled with sorrow and pain. At the Falcon's stern Celes and Locke stood close together with heads inclined towards each other; that was a recent memory and one that caused Relm to smile whenever she thought of it.

The most amusing place she could think of for Gau was on one of Umaro's shoulders, with Mog perched comfortably on the other one. Those three she placed halfway between the Figaro brothers and the sparring warriors, with Gau in the midst of calling out some advice for Terra or Cyan and the two furballs chatting with one another.

There was only one part of the painting that wasn't based on a memory. Just in front of the door leading to the ship's interior she painted herself throwing a ball for a jubilant Interceptor. Her grandpa looking up from his book at them with "that silly granddaughter of mine" look on his face. Shadow, leaning against the ship's door looking totally relaxed, watched them with a smile. To an observer he could have been watching any number of things, but in Relm's mind he was watching Interceptor as the dog leapt open mouthed for the thrown ball. She'd drawn him with her red scarf tied around his belt and the blue dye that had once stained his face faded away to barely a tint. It was something that could happen, it just hadn't yet.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Gau was the first to answer, "Very pretty! Very, very pretty!" The wild boy seemed excited by the revelation that images of reality could be preserved in such a fashion. Maybe she'd try to teach him to draw someday. Now wouldn't he get a kick out of that!

Shadow studied the painting closely, taking in every detail. "You're as good as," the assassin began, but caught himself and paused.

"As good as who?" Relm asked. The Shadow looked at her and blinked. No one. Her. Not her. Yes. No one. Liar! Fool. Coward!

Shadow shook his head quickly, as if the sharp motion could clear those thoughts from his head. "You are a great artist," he rasped. Relm frowned and looked at him with those pretty hazel eyes. That wasn't what he was going to say at first and she knew it!

He was saved from those searching eyes by a most welcome interruption.

"Shadow?" Cyan stood framed in the stairway leading to the Falcon's deck. "Celes dost desire to speak with thee."

As quick as he could manage without breaking out of a walk Shadow crossed the room and made his way over to the older warrior. Damn it all! He was just getting used to the painful memories running amok in his mind, now they were escaping his mouth as well! He was the great assassin Shadow, not the foolish king of Figaro speaking to a woman, spouting off everything that crossed his mind! Perceptive as always, Cyan noticed something off about the assassin's expression. He raised an eyebrow in a silent query, to which Shadow answered with a sharp shake of his head. The matter dropped, Cyan and Shadow quickly climbed the stairs and exited onto the Falcon's deck.

It wasn't any later than midday, but the sky was the same rusty red of old blood just before it dried to black that had been every sunrise to sunset since Kefka tore the world apart. As he did every time, Shadow paused just outside the hatch to take in the sight. It was as if he could see the whole world. It was a world of shattered earth and bleeding sky, but it was magnificent just the same. A long time ago he climbed the mountains behind Zozo. There he'd seen the world laid before him as well. He hadn't cared then: all he cared about was the criminal some rich fool from Jidoor hired him to hunt. Now, he wished he'd looked. It would have been nice to have a clear memory of the world as it once was. A world of life. A world of color.

Celes stood next to Setzer at the Falcon's helm. She and the gambler both stared across the ship's bow into the limitless bloody sky with the wind of the ship's passage blowing her cloak and his coattails back behind them. Cyan's cloak suffered similar treatment when he strode across the deck to join them. A slash of red danced in the corner of Shadow's vision as the wind toyed with the ragged scarf. He put a hand on his hip to still it.

"Shadow."

He took one last look out at the ruined world before stalking over the Falcon's deck in answer to the general's call. When he reached his companions Setzer lifted one hand from it's languid perch on a spoke of the helm in an easy wave of welcome. Celes did nothing. She'd obviously known of his arrival, despite not once having turned to set eyes on him. Those eyes were focused straight ahead, staring at something far beyond the bleeding sky. Perhaps she saw the places she'd been. Or the places she must go. Judging by the determined set of her shoulders, Shadow thought it was the later.

As the three of them, gambler, warrior, and assassin, watched Celes drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. Slowly she turned to face them, meeting each of their gazes with a look that was both determined and, though she tried to hide it, a little afraid.

"Tis time," Cyan said, bringing to life the words that none of them could decide whether they were longed for or dreaded.

Celes looked almost gratefully at the old warrior. "Yes, it is."

"You have a plan," Shadow rasped.

"Of course she has a plan," Setzer drawled, "She's a general, it's her job to have a plan."

This comment was met with a steely glare. But it was one of habit, with no true anger behind the hard eyes. Setzer would make offhand comments, Celes would glare at him. It was something that always happened, an action of certainty as they were about to embark on their most uncertain venture yet. The gambler seemed to know this, if the smile that was more reassuring than cocky that he flashed the younger woman was any indication.

"When we enter Kefka's tower I want us to be prepared," Celes explained, "It is likely we will have to separate to get through, and everyone should be ready. The Falcon also needs to be kept at the ready, in case we need to make a quick escape."

Not when we escape. There is no when this time.

"Each of us will lead a team of three or four. I leave it to you to decide who will be on each team, though Setzer, I request that Terra come into the tower with us. It is possible we will have need of her esper side."

The gambler nodded, "I agree. But I won't be leading any team."

"But the Falcon!"

"Will be fine with Gogo piloting it," Setzer replied, "The mime's as good as I am. Mog and Umaro should stay behind as well. If something goes wrong they'll be the most useful in helping to fix it, aside from Edgar and I. And like hell I'm letting you go into this mess without me!"

Celes looked at the gambler contemplatively for a moment, the nodded. "Alright. Shadow, who will you take?"

He answered without a second thought. "Relm and the old coot."

Despite every misgiving he'd ever had, Shadow knew that this was by far the best, if not the only, choice he could make. There'd been an inkling of it when fighting Hidon, but facing down the red dragon proved what the assassin had been trying to avoid ever since he'd nearly died in a snow filled canyon. The old fool, Relm, Interceptor, and himself fought together like a well oiled machine. While he and Interceptor busied their enemies, the two mages could safely finish them off with spells. Shadow was under no illusion that the mages had become more powerful in combat than he could ever hope to be. Having learned high level elemental spells and such things as Flood, Tornado, Flare, from magicite found on the mangled body of Deathgaze, and, of course, Ultima, the mages could deal an incredible amount of damage to almost anything that crossed their path. He and Interceptor were fast enough to fight around those spells, and it no longer bothered either of them if they had to fight whilst surrounded by magic of any sort.

Besides, Relm would have a fit if he didn't chose her. And Strago would have an equally angry fit if he wasn't around to keep an eye on Relm. For some reason Shadow knew the old man would have a slight issue with allowing his precious granddaughter anywhere near Kefka's Tower, with or without his supervision!

No one commented on Shadow's choice, the Cyan could not help smiling. They knew as well as the assassin how formidable a force those four could be. The Doman turned to Celes, apparently ready to make his own selection.

"If it dost not inconvenience thee, Lady Celes, might I request Sir Gau, Lady Terra, and Sir Setzer to be mine companions?"

Celes nodded. "That is fine. Locke, Edgar, and Sabin will come with me."

Their business concluded, the four stood in silence. Shadow knew he should be getting back below soon, Relm's certain prying questions be damned. More likely than not one of those foolish young fellows would take it into their head to try throwing a sword themselves. He should be there to stop any idiocy that might occur because of his demonstration. But like his companions, Shadow found his feet rooted to the spot on the Falcon's gently vibrating deck and his eyes fixed straight ahead.

On the edge of the horizon they could see it: an enormous twisted spear of metal and stone that pierced the sky. Kefka's Tower.

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