Lloyd and Colette lay side-by-side in the inn's last unoccupied room. Always, when he rested in Colette's arms, the uncertainty and hatred inside him crept back into his exsphere, and for the few moments when they were together, he felt no pain. With her, fear seemed to disappear and hope instead filled him up.

Each subsequent time they lay together, it was never nearly as nerve-racking as the first, but Lloyd couldn't help wondering if he was doing this whole thing right. Colette didn't seem to mind that he had no idea about… well, anything. And she seemed to be growing more and more comfortable with her own ailing body, perhaps because she had Lloyd's to compare it to. But Lloyd liked to think that as long as she knew he accepted every bit of her, even the diseased parts, she might learn to accept them too. She was certainly not shy about expressing her affection for his less-than-beautiful left arm. She liked to hold it close to her while her other hand explored him, touching his skin, running fingertips along his scars and injuries.

She touched a tiny scar on his right cheek. "Where is this from?"

"Bandits. When I was nine."

She frowned. "How about this one?" That one was a mark on the inside of his wrist.

"I burnt myself at Dirk's. Making your key crest."

"Oh. How about this one?"

"That's from a fight at school."

"This one?"

"A present from my dad. Sword training, if I remember right."

She counted them, moving from his face to his shoulders, stopping around his ribs, because for almost every mark below that he would just answer her query with "At the ranch."

When she lay her head on his shoulder and squeezed him, he thought she might just be bored of their game, but the look on her face betrayed anything but boredom. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"That you had to go through that. That I didn't come rescue you earlier."

"It's not your fault, Colette, I—" A muffled voice outside their door stopped him mid-sentence. "Oh shit," he hissed.

Colette struggled to cover herself with the sheets when Zelos burst through their door, already halfway through his greeting: "—hell have you guys been up to?" He fell silent when he saw them sitting next to one another, beet-red, sheets wrapped around them like robes. A broad grin crept onto his face, and he covered his mouth mischievously, gasping with pure elation. "Oh. My. Goddess. Loyd! Colette! Right on, you two!"

"Get out, Zelos!" Lloyd said.

"What the hell are you—" Sheena appeared behind him, took one look at them and grabbed Zelos' shoulder. She dragged him through the doorway, but not before Zelos could lean in and shout: "Remember Lloyd, the Goddess gave you a tongue for a reason—"

Sheena shoved him out the door, but turned and gave them a thumbs-up and a toothy grin before slamming it behind her.

Lloyd and Colette sat in silence for a moment.

"We have some weird friends," Lloyd said.

Lloyd found Zelos and Sheena in the lobby, gleefully bragging about their adventures and their successes.

"Gods, you shoulda seen the freak," Zelos said, beer in hand. "Rodyle, or whatever. He had some sorta freaky dragon fetish."

"Why is it always a fetish with you?" Sheena muttered.

"Because, hunny, the entirety of humankind is solely motivated by sexual desire, no matter how it manifests itself." Zelos took a sip of his drink. "Some philosopher or another said that."

"Well, I could argue all day about the absurdity of that statement," Raine sighed, "but continue with your story."

"Yeah, so anyway, he had all sorts of weird lizard things—we crushed them all, naturally, and before we knew it, the cannon was ours—"

When he saw Lloyd, Colette trailing after him, he paused his story to greet them all over again, as if it was the first time they'd met in months.

"So, kid," Sheena smiled. "Show us the man behind the boy we all know."

"What? Oh. All right." Lloyd shrugged, leading them into the bedroom that housed the sleeping Kratos.

When Sheena got a good look at him, she turned, nodding approvingly. "So this is your dad, huh? He's quite the looker for a man his age."

"Sheena," Lloyd grimaced. His disapproval was mirrored in Zelos' obnoxious pout.

"What?" Sheena laughed. "Just saying, Lloyd. If you age as well as he has you'll have no problem with the ladies."

"Gods' sake, stop," Lloyd said.

"The years have treated him quite well, considering," Raine admitted. Her statement was made worse by the fact that she was his acting physician and therefore was responsible for changing his bandages and sponge-bathing him.

"Gods, Raine, not you too."

She shrugged, smiling slightly. "It's fascinating—medically, I mean—that four thousand years din't put a wrinkle on him." Lloyd groaned, regretting he had to hear any of this. He never suspected it'd be Zelos who would come to his rescue.

"Martel's love, and you're the ones always calling me a pervert. Leave the poor man to his rest." He shoved Sheena out the door, and the rest trickled out behind him.

"So, what are you even doing here?" Lloyd asked them, gently closing the door to Kratos' room. "Aren't you supposed to be out gathering spirits to fuel the mana cannon?"

"We just stopped to see how you were doing. After the snafu that was supposed to be the Derris-Kharlan operation, we wanted to make sure you were all okay."

"Yeah, we're holding on."

"Good. We'll meet again when we're done. I've already made pacts with the Tethe'allan spirits, so now we'll be over on this side. Next we're going to the Tower of Mana, I think."

"For which spirit?" Lloyd asked.

"Well, two. Luna. And Aska."

"Aska?"

"Yeah, you heard of him?"

"Yeah. I saw him once. In the mountains."

"The mountains, huh? Where?"

Lloyd tried his best to remember. Previously, he'd only tried to forget that particular trip. "North of Ossa Trail, I think. Around where we landed the first time you came to Sylvarant."

"Wow, some memories, huh?" Sheena laughed. "That seems like so damn long ago."

"Yeah."

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for it. Thanks for the tip. Glad we got to see you before we got on our way. Yuan told us where you were, but honestly, it wasn't that hard to figure out. You guys should probably be more careful."

"Yeah. I know." Lloyd didn't bother mentioning that the half-elf in question had paid him a visit the night before.

Zelos and Sheena stayed to nap and stuff their faces before they scrambled back to their rheiards. Raine muttered something about being glad to have gotten rid of the "horrid nuisance", but Lloyd followed them out, heart shrinking a little at the thought of saying goodbye again so soon.

"So," Sheena started as they loaded up their rheiard, "tell me if you think I've got this right. All the materials for Origin's pact ring are conveniently stuffed into a box on the top of this mountain, and all I have to do is follow these instructions to get there?"

"Yeah. Here, I wrote the coordinates down for you, too," Lloyd handed her a slip of paper. "Just type them into the computer in the rheiard and it should take you there. But… there's nowhere to land nearby, and the climb's gonna be tough. Just tell the old oracle up there that Lloyd sent you. Or Kratos. Whichever."

"All right. Got it. Will do." She smiled and crawled up into the machine's saddle. "What about you? Where are you headed?"

"We're gonna take a boat toward Iselia," Lloyd said. "After dad wakes up."

"When you say 'boat', you mean one of those creaky wooden things?" Zelos laughed.

"Yeah. Meet us there when you're done."

"Don't worry, Lloyd. You get on your little bumpkin rowboat." Zelos shook his head in pity. "We'll take the rheiards and get done traveling both worlds in half the time. Gods, I can't imagine what it was like growing up in this backwards hole. Living your whole life in it, my goddess."

"Uh. Okay."

"You have all my condolences," Zelos smiled. "Also, remember to use your tongue."

"What?"

Zelos shook his head as Sheena dragged him up onto the machine behind her. "Poor, poor Colette," was all he said before Sheena waved goodbye and they shot up into the sky.

Kratos sat up, waking slowly, comfortably. He sucked in the mountain air, yawning, and examined his surroundings. He was in a house, small but sturdy, the single room lined with all the little conveniences of everyday life: pots and pans, a broom, chairs, dried herbs and gardening tools. The double bed had been pushed into the far corner, and a little cot snuggled beside it. A few bookshelves lined the walls, and a low table sat in the middle of the room, cluttered with utensils and what looked to be used paintbrushes. Beyond that, a sink, neglected and stacked with dirty dishes. Light poured in through the kitchen window, and sitting on the counter, characteristically ignoring domestic chores, was Anna.

"Morning, love," she said, grinning.

"Where…" Kratos didn't know what to make of all this. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood, stretching. "Did I… did I build this?" he asked.

"Of course you did," Anna answered. "It's not a bad job. Especially since you're not a carpenter." Kratos surveyed the walls, the creaking ceiling. It looked sturdy enough, but somehow he couldn't shake the thought that he could've done much better, especially for Anna, especially for his child.

"I guess I'm not," he admitted. "Where's Lloyd?"

"He's outside, as usual. He really likes the garden we put in the front. Specifically, he likes destroying it." She smiled and slid off the counter. Kratos crept slowly, carefully up to the kitchen window and glanced into the morning light. There, on a patch of grass, was his son, chasing Noishe in a circle. Lloyd couldn't keep up with the dog on his little legs, but he tried his best, stumbling and laughing and picking himself up after every fall. There was a dirty bouquet of hastily-plucked flowers in his hand, which he brandished like a sword.

"He's growing so fast. Turning six next week." Anna slipped behind Kratos, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his shoulder. He looked down at her hands, folded gently on his stomach. They were smooth, pale, devoid of scars, scales or exspheres. They were not the hands that had gone after Lloyd, spindly and deformed, ready to rip their son apart. "I was going to make him some sort of cake, but you know how bad I am at that."

"I'll make it," Kratos said.

"Oh, good. Thanks, dear. I have a different present for him. It's a little bow and arrow I made from a piece of birch." Kratos glanced over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow. "What? Don't look at me like that, you old badger. It barely works, so it's not dangerous. The arrow is just a stick with a lump of clay at the end. I know how nervous you get about him." She released his waist and sat down at their wobbly little table. "But you know, you should let him wander a little. Go on a few adventures, maybe let him visit with some of the village kids. When I was little, my mother kicked me and my brothers out of her house at dawn, telling us not to come back until dinner was ready. The property was her domain, and we had to wander the fields, starving, until she let us back inside. Those were the days." She removed her ivory pipe from her pocket and loaded the bowl.

"Do you have to do that in here?" Kratos asked her. He'd always hated the smell.

"Yes. Yes I do," she answered, lighting the tobacco and taking a few puffs. "And if you stay with me long enough you'll start wanting some too."

"I doubt it." Kratos looked out the window and into their green garden, but he couldn't find Lloyd. His heart skipped a beat as his mind went through all the possible reasons his son would be out of his sight, none of them good. "Where'd he go?" he asked. Instinctively, his hand reached for a sword hilt that wasn't there.

"I don't know," Anna answered, blowing a smoke ring and admiring it as it dissipated in the air. "You're going to have to go find him if you want him back."

Kratos cocked his head. "What?"

Anna lowered her pipe, frowning. "You need to leave. You need to go find him."

Kratos knelt next to her, hand on her elbow. "Anna. Come with me. Let's go together."

"I can't, Kratos, and you know that. You know that too well." She lowered her gaze, and watched a tiny bit of tobacco smolder in her pipe. "Don't worry about me."

"I can't help it."

"Look. I know it can be hard, especially alone, especially with a kid like Lloyd. I know he's a little terror, but he's our little terror. And he needs you. Badly. Now more than ever."

"He needs both of us."

Anna reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Kratos… I know I'm not very good at being stern, but... if you're going to be this stubborn, I'll have to try. Listen to me. Listen well. Don't you even think of worrying about me. Just don't. I'm not going anywhere. I'll wait for you… where summer doesn't end. You know, at the edge of the water. Just like that old song."

Kratos lowered his head to her hand. Her soft skin pressed against his forehead, and he couldn't bear to let it go. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. I'll be here, waiting. You need to let me go. Don't abandon Lloyd for me. I would never forgive you."

Kratos struggled to his feet, still holding her hand, trying to recall the words to that song she had sung so often, so long ago. "Anna… Please." She didn't budge, and he knew what he had to do. "Just... kiss me once..."

She smiled. "All right. Just one kiss, before you go. Then get out of here. You have work to do."

"Dad?" Lloyd muttered. Kratos' eyelids fluttered, his eyebrows twitched as if he were thinking deeply about something. "Dad?" He tried to call Kratos back to him, to bring him home, back into the uncomfortable world of consciousness.

Eventually, after a few minutes of twitching and weakly groaning, Kratos cracked his eyes open. When he saw Lloyd attentively leaning over him, he looked surprised, as if he had no idea what he was seeing.

"How… did you find me?" he asked.

Lloyd grinned. "I'm your son. I'll always be able to find you." To his surprise, Kratos graced him with a weak smile.

"You've… grown," he said, lifting his hand toward Lloyd's cheek. Since he hadn't quite regained control of his body yet, what was no doubt meant to be a caress turned into a feeble slap to Lloyd's face. Lloyd smiled, figuring this was his anticipated beating, and reached up to hold Kratos' hand there.

Kratos' eyes fell on the red exsphere on Lloyd's scaled, sickly hand, and his smile disappeared. "Who… who did this to you?" he groaned.

"Kvar."

"Where is he?" Kratos growled, trying to lift his head.

"Whoa, dad. Relax. He's already dead. I killed him."

Kratos let out a quick breath. "You did, did you? You could've waited for me. I would've liked… to have a few words with him." Kratos seemed to have trouble catching his breath. He grabbed Lloyd's hand and brought it to his ear, as if he meant to listen to the sounds of the steadily growing exsphere.

"Um… what are you doing, dad?" Lloyd asked.

"It's not too late. I need to go." Kratos tried his best to push himself up, but his arms shook, his body was barely strong enough to move at all.

"Hold up a minute," Lloyd said. "You're not going anywhere." He gently shoved Kratos' shoulder, unwilling to let him get away with not telling him anything. Lloyd was so tired of being kept in the dark.

The man only groaned and tried to pull himself out of bed, until Lloyd pushed him back down again. "Don't try to stop me," Kratos said.

Lloyd couldn't help but think it was a little funny, that after all these years of disobedience, now he was the one keeping his father in line. "Not used to being helpless, huh?" he said. "It's not very fun, is it?"

"Don't get smart with me, Lloyd, just help me up." Instead, Lloyd just sat by his side, refusing to give in. Kratos, with what little strength he had, tried to push his son out of the way, managing to swing one leg off the side of the little bed. A short, pathetic struggle ensued, which ended with Kratos stumbling off the side of the bed and onto Lloyd, pinning him under his heavy, limp weight. Lloyd struggled to push him off, but his father's body didn't seem to be too thrilled to move.

"You're impossible," Lloyd grunted, arms shaking as he lifted his father off him and rolled him onto his back on the floor. Kratos groaned in pain, twisted himself onto his elbows, but didn't have the strength to stand up. Lloyd gripped him again, and after a few seconds of half-hearted flailing, Kratos gave into exhaustion. He lay on the floor, panting, staring at the ceiling, as Lloyd knelt over him.

"I hate you, dad," Lloyd told him.

Kratos smiled slightly. "I know."

He hadn't seen the door open and Raine enter. "Lloyd!" he heard a concerned shout. "You're endangering my patient!"

"Well, gee, professor, if he's your responsibility, then why don't you keep him under control?" Lloyd couldn't help shouting back.

"Gods above," Raine muttered. "He's awake for three seconds and you two are already fighting."

Lloyd pushed himself up, watching his father struggle on the ground in front of him.

"Help me get him back into bed," Raine said.

"No," Kratos protested. "I need to go."

"Yeah, well you're gonna have to wait a while to do that," Lloyd said, grabbing him under the shoulders. "You're in no state to go anywhere."

"And if you ever want to get out of that state, you'll let us help you," Raine grunted, grabbing his legs. "Good goddess, he's heavy. Here, just lay him back down there… that's… good. Oh, dear. You keep him quiet, I'll get him something for his pain."

Lloyd managed to get Kratos to stay in the bed, not without some complaining. "I swear, dad, we will tie you down if need be," he warned, but that didn't stop Kratos from feebly trying to escape.

When Raine returned with a cup of what could only be some painkilling narcotic, she practically forced it down Kratos' throat.

"There. Nice and easy. He should be asleep in… well, very, very soon. Oh look, there he goes."

"Wow. That was some potent stuff," Lloyd said.

"Isn't it? It's from Boltzmann. It's a higher dose of what I gave you for your nightmares." She sat down next to him and looked Kratos over. "I wonder if… after all that, if his mind is still intact."

"Oh, he's always been at least a little crazy," Lloyd offered. "He thinks he can do everything by himself. He doesn't listen to anyone. He thinks he's always right."

"He's a bit like you, then."

Lloyd sighed. "Not too much, I hope."

It took a few hours for Kratos to come to. When he opened his eyes, Lloyd could tell he was too dazed to try to get up. "Are you all right?" Lloyd asked him.

"Yes... Thank you." His eyes were dull and his words barely coherent, but at least he wasn't belligerent enough to fight his way to freedom. His head swayed in half-sleep, his eyes closed once more, and he muttered a few syllables of nonsense.

Lloyd wondered how long he would be like this. A part of him feared that Raine's medicine may be strong enough to dismantle his mind a little. Even more so, he feared that something really had happened to his consciousness during all those months he'd been stuck to that horrid machine.

"You need rest. Go back to sleep," Lloyd told him. He squeezed his shoulder, grateful that for once in his life his dad was finally listening to him. Kratos' hand found its way out of the sheets and closed around Lloyd's.

"Stay here..." his father whispered. "Mithos..."

Lloyd suddenly found himself short of breath, as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "No, dad. It's me, Lloyd."

But Kratos had already fallen back asleep.

Kratos' recovery was slow and painful, made even more so by the urgency to get out of Hima and move on to Iselia. Every hour they stayed there and let Kratos lay in bed was another hour Mithos would be able to search for him. Lloyd wanted nothing more than to sit his father down and wrestle answers from him—answers about his mother, about Cruxis, Mithos, the Great War... but every time he found an opportunity to ask, Kratos was either asleep or under the debilitating influence of one painkiller or another.

So Lloyd decided the best thing they could do was pack their bags and move out, no matter how slow his injured father would make the journey.

"I just can't get through to him, Colette," Lloyd said, stuffing a large shirt into his bag. "He keeps on calling me by names that aren't mine. He doesn't make any sense. I keep trying to ask him questions and he can't answer them."

"I'm sorry," was all Colette could say as she packed her things. Lloyd was struggling to cram all of his stuff and the items he had bought for his father in his pack, so he handed over a few things to Colette to put in hers.

"It's like he's caught in some sort of dream. Raine says she's lowering his dosage, and that he'll be fine, that he's just not used to his medicine yet, but I don't know... What if he lost his mind up there? All alone, tied up to that machine."

"Lloyd." Colette closed her pack and pulled it from the bed. "Raine wouldn't say those things if she didn't mean them. She isn't like that. She wouldn't lie to you to make you feel better."

Oddly enough, that did relieve Lloyd a little. He shoved the last of his things in his bag and hauled it over his shoulder, sighing. He and Colette made their way downstairs, to find Kratos fully dressed, standing on his own. It had taken him a full day to sit up, so being able to walk on his own so soon was pretty miraculous, in Lloyd's opinion. "Are you ready to go?" he asked him.

Kratos nodded. He still looked a little dazed, but he wasn't speaking nonsense anymore. In fact, he barely spoke at all. Lloyd took this as a sign he might be getting back to normal. He was at least partially coherent, enough so that he could manage to ask Lloyd what he had been up to while he had been locked away in the cramped prison of Derris-Kharlan.

So as they made their way out of Hima and toward the nearest harbor, Lloyd slowed his pace to match his limping father's, and told him everything. He told him about Tethe'alla, Sheena, Yuan, the Chosen, both the Chosens... and Kratos just listened calmly, attentively. Lloyd didn't know if his composure was a result of his ability to adapt to his new situation, or if it was the heavy drugs Raine had been giving him. The first few days, while they headed too slowly toward the northern sea, he asked Lloyd the same questions over and over—how did he find him, why did he come back for him, who were all these people, why did he feel so strange... By the end of the third day, when the ocean came into view, Kratos stopped repeating himself. He abandoned his walking stick by the side of the road and insisted that he was fine.

Because Lloyd had to reiterate so many times during his narrative, he hadn't yet arrived at the part where he'd been taken to the ranch. He thought he might as well skip over that bit and hope that his dad wouldn't notice. But when they set up camp that night, Lloyd could tell that his father was close to being his old, acute self again. He suddenly didn't want to tell that part of the story—he didn't want to relive any of those moments, and he especially didn't want his father to fret over him. Fortunately, Kratos didn't press him.

Lloyd lit the fire and sat down beside his father, removing his boots and warming his feet by the flames. "Dad?"

"Yes, Lloyd?" Kratos sat and stared into the fire a little too intently.

"Are you back with us? How's your brain?"

"It's... fine, I think. Whatever painkiller your doctor had me on was... quite effective. But I think I'm all right now."

"Raine. Raine's the doctor, remember?"

"Yes. And her brother, your friend from school, Genis. And Colette, the Chosen. You must've told me this a hundred times."

"Just about." The three in question were making themselves busy, gathering wood for the fire, and setting up tents. None seemed too interested in eavesdropping on Lloyd and his father. It's not like anything they talked about was particularly important, or at least anything the other members of the group had not heard before.

In truth, Lloyd wanted a long, cogent, informational explanation of every single secret his father had kept from him for the past eighteen years, but he knew he wasn't going to get one. What he wanted to know most was a subject so delicate he didn't know if his father would up and run away at the mere mention of it. Kratos might not get too far before Lloyd could catch him again, not in this state, but you never knew. The bastard had wings, he could probably fly away. Lloyd knew the only reason he stuck around now was because he had convinced him that they really were on their way to forge the pact ring he had been trying to make for so many years, and not galavanting across the countryside for fun.

Lloyd wondered if Kratos was coherent enough at this point to tell him what he wanted to hear. Before he could muster up the courage to ask him about his mother, Kratos spoke.

"She's dying, you know," he said quietly, looking at Colette. She sat wrestling with her bedroll, and in the dim firelight Lloyd could make out a tiny patch of discolored skin on her cheek. She couldn't hide her sickness from everyone for long.

"I know," Lloyd answered.

"It's a rare condition, but every once in a while, a Chosen rejects the Cruxis Crystal. Or maybe it's the other way around. I've seen it before. There's only one person I know who's cured it, though."

"Who?" Lloyd asked, hopeful.

"Mithos." Lloyd deflated. No way in hell was he about to hand Colette over to him for maintenance. "He may heal her yet, if she's of some use to him."

"Yeah, well we don't need him. Raine's gonna fix it." Lloyd paused. "What exactly does Mithos want with Colette anyway? What's he been using Chosens for this whole time?"

"Lloyd," Kratos turned back to the fire to escape his son's glare. "Can this wait?"

"No."

Kratos sighed. "I... I never wanted you to know any of this. I tried my best to keep you out of the whole mess, I really did. I didn't want you hurt. But it looks like I didn't do a very good job."

"No, you didn't," Lloyd admitted. "So tell me about Mithos."

When Kratos spoke, he spoke slowly, haltingly, as if it took great effort to say what he needed to. "Mithos... Mithos was a bright pupil, and kind. He was always trying to do what he thought was right, but as you already know, he was born into the era of the Kharlan War. It was hard on him, but he tried his best to alleviate suffering, to end violence. He and his sister Martel both dedicated themselves to that cause. I stayed with them, well... partly because I was wanted as a deserter and couldn't possibly find company anywhere else. But mostly I believed in him. He was strong, he was kindhearted, and he was so sure that he could end the War. I clung to him, I suppose, because he was so hopeful. He was a kind of beacon in a world that had lost all meaning to me."

Kratos paused to take a breath, a small smile crossing his features. "And he did it, by all the gods, he did it. The Kharlan War ended by his hand. But... things change. People change. After Martel died, he was different. He started to think that he would be able to bring her back, that he could do the impossible. After all, he could, couldn't he? He had split the world, he had ended the War. He thought he could stop death.

"Maybe that was where he went wrong. Maybe that's where we all went wrong, thinking we could live our lives never accepting death. We had all become so powerful over the years... and we had Mithos to thank for it. We had him to thank for ending the War, and we believed in him. We all believed that we could bring back the dead. The most terrifying part was that we absolutely could. We had successfully preserved Martel's soul in the seed of the Great Kharlan Tree, and all we needed to do was find a suitable host for it. So we spent hundreds of years developing the ritual of the Chosen, not only as a system for regulating mana flow, but to find a proper vessel for Martel. We created and cultured an entire belief system centered on that ritual, and we established ourselves as its leaders. We, much like the Chosen, gave up a part of what made us people, in order to become seraphim. It was the symbolism, I think, that convinced me for so long that our cause was righteous. We were angels, actual angels, guiding a sinful world toward salvation.

"At first, I thought it was the right thing to do. We all loved Martel, none of us wanted to see her go. But as time wore on and Mithos grew more and more obsessed with bringing her back, Yuan and I began to realize that the well-intentioned endeavor was doing more harm than good. People on the worlds below were suffering, dying, because of the mana imbalance we created. I just thought that the faster we made Mithos happy, the faster this could all end. He was the closest thing I had to a family, so I wanted him to be content. But I also wanted him to stop hurting the world, so I did my best to bring Martel back.

"Yuan, however, was never a man for whom the ends justified the means, so he turned against us. He hid it well, and neither of us knew of his defection for a long time. About the time I found out Yuan had betrayed us was the same time I found out about Mithos' new plan. It was a program designed to eliminate the race he felt was responsible for Martel's death. 'The Age of Lifeless Beings,' he called it. I think that was when I woke up to his insanity. I was never able to see that all this time, that kind boy had a monster inside him, just waiting to wake up..." He trailed off before turning to Lloyd and frowning. "This isn't your battle, Lloyd. You shouldn't have to fight it."

Lloyd glanced down at his exspheres. "I'm part of this world, dad. Of course it's my battle."

"Mithos is not your responsibility. He belongs to me and Yuan."

"He tried to hurt Colette," Lloyd said quietly. "He tried to hurt you. And he... he's behind all those human ranches." Lloyd rubbed his hand unconsciously. "So don't pretend like you can do this alone. Yggdrasill has hurt all of us. So what if he's your fault? He's still all of our responsibility."

Kratos gave Lloyd a look that made his heart twist, but he couldn't tell if it was a gaze of affection, or concern, or dissatisfaction. Maybe a mix of all three. Kratos sighed and lay down, lifting his eyes to the sky. Lloyd lay back and stared with him. He found it hard to believe that somewhere out there, somewhere very close, the world of Derris-Kharlan floated, filled to the brim with those lifeless beings Mithos had created. Lloyd couldn't help but admire the fallen hero a little, regardless of his travesties. Mithos had power that Lloyd could only dream of, power that could change the world, wipe out hatred, power that could even bring back the dead.

"Lloyd, are you hungry?" A voice from the other side of the fire brought him back down from the stars. Colette walked toward him, bowl outstretched. "Sir Kratos, would you like some?" she asked.

"No, thank you." Kratos hadn't eaten since his return, but he would sleep if given enough of Raine's potent analgesic.

Lloyd thanked Colette and took the bowl from her, trying to force his thoughts to drift away from the darker regions of his mind, but they had already wandered too deep. Resurrection, he thought, was just another form of regeneration, wasn't it? There was nothing inherently immoral about it, only the rejection of it. If one had power over death, it would only make sense that person would want to use it.

But then… if Mithos were so powerful, what would he need Desians for? Why would he have to make exspheres, why would he have to manufacture the Church to make a vessel, why would he need to torture, kill, wreak havoc? There's always a price to pay for that kind of power. And Lloyd wasn't so sure he'd be willing to pay it.

"Lloyd." His father's hand on his shoulder brought his thoughts back to the present. "You look upset."

"It's nothing," he said, and focused on his soup, burying those disquieting thoughts in the back of his mind. But his father's hand didn't leave his shoulder—perhaps Kratos thought that as long as he kept contact with him, he might be able to alleviate some of Lloyd's emotional burdens. Lloyd didn't have the heart to tell him how wrong he was.