Sorry for the delay, had finals and packing to do before I could edit. Enjoy, and know the story's not yet finished.

Ike stared down at the spot he'd left Soren and smashed his sword into a tree. He wasn't given to fits of anger, but this time it was too much.

"Never should have left him," he growled, wrenching the blade free. Then his face changed, his expression softening, and he slid down to the earth, his back against the wide trunk. With Ragnell balanced across his knees, his arms balanced across Ragnell, he looked up at the sky. It was true night now and stars were beginning to show. He would never find Soren in this.

It was probably the way Soren wanted it, but Ike had never imagined it would end like this. He had always thought Soren would outlast him, all of them, and not just because he was branded. It was because he deserved to. Ike didn't much believe in fate, or destiny, or care for the difference between the two, but he knew the world owed Soren something in life. It certainly hadn't given him anything, not in the beginning. Yet here they were, the end in sight with no remunerations, no recompense to speak of. If anything, it had taken more. Ike raised a hand and let his head fall into his palm. He had never let uncertainty stop him, but now it was paralyzing. He had vows to honor and no way to do so.

And then an explosion lit up the night. It painted the trees red, washed out the stars, cast shadows where before had been only darkness. Before the earth stopped trembling beneath him Ike was on his feet, racing through the forest. Another explosion ripped through the trees and Ike shifted, heading for the plume of smoke and flame which quickly dissipated. As he neared a third explosion rocked the earth and by its light he could see a figure, obscured by robes, on hands and knees in a scorched clearing, all plant life blasted away. He stared down at a book lying open on the ground and around him five more figures darted, not daring to move closer, but on the verge.

Ike moved before he thought, and he was a reaper. Ragnell sang as it cut the air, and a ghostly after vision of the blade pulled free of the enchanted metal. It bit into the nearest brigand, into the small of his back, and the man fell with a cry. Before the others could fully turn Ike was among them, Ragnell's edge biting and darting from one to another. Before long they were down, and Ike was flicking away blood from a cut on his forearm.

He neared Soren and planted Ragnell in the earth. His friend's eyes were unfocused, staring down at the book despite that, and as Ike knelt he looked up. Face sweaty in the moonlight, hair messy and plastered to his face, he reached up and took a hold of Ike's shoulder plate.

"Ike," he breathed, pulling his friend closer. His face was a snarl, his rolling eyes wide. "Don't let me die in the dark."

Before Ike could answer he collapsed, his weight heavy on Ike's wounded arm.

The taller man reached down and closed the tome, sliding it behind his belt, and then heaved Soren up onto a shoulder. Pulling Ragnell free from the earth he quickly left the clearing, making his way back through the foliage as quietly as he could. Brigands were like wasps. Annoying, easily dealt with for a little pain, but to kick the nest was suicide.

"We won't die tonight Soren," he said, his breath coming short and heavy, "not here."

OoOoO

Light. Torchlight. The light of heaven. There was no heaven, for they had killed the goddess. Now it was just a dark hole in the earth. That was heaven. And for some people, it was all they had to look forward to. He had thought he was one of those people once, at a time now long in the past. Only now, he couldn't tell when that time had been. Was it now? Was he still on those streets? Had his entire remembered life been a figment, his mind caught in a dreamscape?

He vomited, his gut twisted like a dirty rag wrung dry, and his eyes fluttered open. The world lurched around him, the ground bobbing beneath him, as if watching the earth from the gait of some ungainly creature. His body jostled, his chin hit something hard, and he bit his tongue. His eyes closed as the iron tinge of blood bloomed in his mouth. He was so tired.

Suddenly voices. Two of them. They cut into the fog of his mind, clearing the way for coherency. Where was he? His eyes fluttered open again and he blinked, staring for a moment as what he assumed was the ceiling, spinning above him. A face appeared, an old woman who looked familiar, and then she was gone. Ike's face replaced hers. His eyebrows were drawn together and his mouth curved in a deep frown. Soren knew that face, he wore it when he looked for Mist in battle. Were they in battle? Soon the woman rejoined Ike with two staves in hand and she bent over Soren, the end of one staff filling his vision. She spoke, her voice muffled in Soren's ears, and brilliant light washed over the dark room. It lit up the woman's features, the creases in her skin, the wrinkles around her eyes. She was the same woman from earlier that day. After a moment the staff shone no more and she replaced it with another. This time he felt the effect of the magic, the healing that raced through his body. It tensed every muscle, strained every tendon, forced him to arch his back as it chased the weakness from his body.

The glowing stopped and Soren collapsed onto the table. The only sound he could hear was his own breathing, his ears popping with every breath, but they were deep breaths. He wasn't going to die. And then the woman brought the staff over him again. Soren's eyes bulged as he felt the magic again; it filled his lungs to bursting, his heart beat out of his chest, his blood pounded in his ears. He watched his hands clench into fists, the tendons in his wrists standing out like carved marble. Again the woman stopped and he hit the table with a thump.

"Stop!" he coughed, as the woman moved the staff over his head again. Too much healing hurt, as it should; it wasn't natural. She looked at Ike, who slid two fingers under Soren's jaw line against his neck. He waited, counting, then removed his hand and nodded toward the woman. She picked up her staves and left without a word.

Soren fell back against the table, exhausted from the healing process.

"How do you feel?" Ike asked, crossing his arms as he looked down at his friend. His arm bore a cut, Soren noticed idly.

"Tired. Incredibly tired," he answered, closing his eyes to shut out the world.

Ike laughed darkly, "You should be. You almost died. She said we caught you on the edge, balanced like a stone on a knife blade. Thankfully they had a restore staff…"

Soren sighed, placing a hand on his forehead, "Thank you, Ike."

"You didn't think I would leave you behind, did you?" Ike asked. "Just had to make sure everyone else got through okay. Should have stayed put you fool."

"I suspected…I knew. But I couldn't assume, and there were brigands. I had to move, and they almost killed me anyway…I couldn't even see in the end Ike."

"I know."

A moment of silence passed and then Soren's fingers parted, his eyes glittering between them in the darkness.

"You know what this means, Ike," he said, watching his friend's face.

Ike nodded, his expression far away as he inhaled slowly before answering, "Nothing I wasn't prepared for."

Soren covered his eyes again, "I'm sorry."

Ike shook his head, "Don't be. Maybe you were wrong. Besides, everyone I know and care for is safe. I'll never be sorry for that."

Soren rolled over and Ike thumped him on the shoulder. "Get some sleep," he said, "we'll leave in the morning."

Soren grunted his understanding and then slipped quickly into sleep. It snatched him from the waking world, in which he had no right to exist, and he dreamed, but when morning came he couldn't say what they had been. All he could think was that they had been dreams of death, and what should have been. He was glad for being unable to remember.

OoOoO

Soren watched, eyes still heavy with sleep as Ike bid the woman farewell. She stared at them with that stony gaze he remembered from the day before, but she nodded when Ike thanked her. He looked over his shoulder as they set off down the road and she was still there by the village gates, leaning on her staff as if it were nothing more than something to help her stand. He looked at Ike.

"What now?" he asked. The quiet of morning seemed draped over them like a mantle. It was comforting after the night before.

Ike smiled, and it reached his tired eyes, "Wherever we want."

"New adventures, new tales…" Soren mused. His eyes drifted, looking to the radiant dawn which painted the eastern sky.

"As long as we don't forget the old ones," Ike answered.

Soren hitched up his bag and followed his friend down the road. He could live with that. He would live for that.