Chapter Twenty-Eight

Magis


DISCLAIMER: The last scene of this chapter is most definitely rated "M" for sexual content.

There will be a BOLD UNDERLINED warning before and after the shenanigans, so you can skip them, if you'd like. If you happen to enjoy shenanigans, please continue uninterrupted and guilt-free. ;D


Is this making sense?
What am I trying to say?
You're the only sense the world has ever made


"This is stupid."

If her brother had been talking about the ship they were on - the very same ship that had begun to bounce across the water with far too much enthusiasm for Raine - then she would have to agree. Genis hadn't stopped scowling, which meant he obviously had other reasons, so she asked, "What is?"

"This whole trip. Why are we going so far out of our way?" He flung one arm at the Chosen, who stood on the opposite end of the ship with Lloyd and Sheena by her side. "Colette is almost finished with the journey, and we're taking this huge detour at the last second!"

Raine shook her head. "...It is not our place to question Colette's wishes. She was the first one to make the choice to come back."

She wanted to say the truth: It will let her live a little longer. But she knew she couldn't.

"Yeah, but isn't it putting her at risk, too? When we left Kozei, it was crawling with Desians. And we don't even know if they'd let us back in, after what Sara did-"

"Genis."

"...Okay. Fine." He crossed his arms and turned away. But now, at the edge of his vision, he could see Sara, which was unacceptable - so he turned away a second time. "But I still think this is stupid."

They resupplied at Izoold, after a brief trip across the ocean. In Palmacosta, they'd been lucky to snag a spot on the day's last departing warship; after relaying their intentions, and convincing a handful of soldiers that they'd be doing a personal favor for the Chosen, their passage had been secured. This continent smelled way fishier, and Lloyd had to resist the urge to plug his nose until they'd traveled far enough away from the water and into the forests of the Ossa Trail (after long enough, he figured out how to only breathe through his mouth; though it looked undignified, it was effective).

Kozei was a bit of a geographical oddity, where three distinct environments converged: desert, forest and mountains. The average temperature was worthy of the first climate, in that it rarely dropped below sixty degrees even on the coldest of nights. This was crucial when it came to ensuring a dragon hatchling's success, particularly in the last weeks of development. And the nearby mountains performed flawlessly as nature's jungle gym, where young dragons could learn to navigate jagged winds and climb uneven terrain even while carrying loads or riders.

The neighboring forests provided an abundance of game, which kept both the village's human and dragon residents fed. Or, they used to. Not lately, anymore, since the world's mana had begun to rapidly decline; a typical meal of venison or wild hog had become a luxury. Smaller hunts of pheasant or rabbit had barely sustained the village. The soil had always been too arid and rocky to plant many crops, and the desert's hold carried over into the rain, as well. Which meant that meat, and its many products, had largely sustained Kozei for decades - along with a sparse handful of hardy vegetables such as potatoes, onions and carrots.

Towards the end, before the Desians had invaded, Sara had given up many of her meals to ensure the youngest hatchlings were properly fed. Watching them learn and grow, until the beautiful point where each one could hunt for themselves, had always been worth each growl and churn of her empty stomach. Focusing on her purpose, if she truly tried, could get her through any amount of suffering.

As her boots left dusty craters in the dry, crunchy earth, Sara prayed to a Goddess she didn't believe in that this time would be no different.

Kozei had only one entrance and one exit. East and west, respectively. Umber mountains south, sparse forest northeast, scorching desert northwest. The village's perimeter of simple wooden fence had been replaced with Desian-made bars of cold steel and lengths of barbed wire. A wooden trellis stood at the entrance, unchanged. Sara halted a few paces before it. She'd been striding forward with confident, purposeful steps up until this very point, when all of her courage boiled over and utterly vaporized.

"What business do you have here?" A Desian asked suddenly, appearing beside the entrance with a pair of other soldiers, weapons ready.

Raine and Kratos immediately positioned themselves protectively in front of the Chosen. Sara had led them all here. Which meant she was first in line, and therefore needed to find her entirely uncooperative voice.

"I want to speak with the mayor," she announced.

The lead Desian snorted a laugh. "He's dead."

"I know," Sara growled. "His son is mayor now, isn't he? Kane Clark?"

"You know him?"

She nodded, and tried to ignore the uncontrollable way her hands curled into fists. "Yes. Tell him Sara Baldasarre is here to see him."


Eighteen years ago, a tiny orange-haired girl had asked him a favor.

Kane had been sixteen, and this girl couldn't have been much older than nine or ten. He'd seen her a few times here and there, on frequent passages to Asgard for supplies and trade. The delivery route between Kozei and Asgard was well-ridden; in his four years as an official dragonrider of Kozei, Kane hadn't expected this trip to be any different.

He approached the windy city at a soaring sprint. The slicing breeze whipped his jaw-length dark hair. He kept grinning beneath the blue bandanna tied around his face and the thick amber goggles protecting his eyes. Descending was always a welcome maneuver that made his stomach flop around in just the best way. He couldn't get enough, which is why he'd signed up for this job as soon as he'd hit twelve - the minimum age for Kozei's dragonriders. Adrenaline was the only drug Kane Clark had ever tried, and the only one he'd ever need.

His dragon's name was Garon, a proud, dusty-green adolescent male hailing from the eastern hills. Garon was short and stocky, with a nose-to-tail length that could hardly be deemed impressive - but a heart of pure fire and shining gold. It had taken awhile for the beast to warm up to him, as it did with most humans, but Kane hadn't wanted another partner, and doubted he ever would.

They landed swiftly at the cave's entrance. Kane lowered his bandanna to his neck, and propped his goggles up onto his head. The girl had been waiting inside, peeking nervously around the corner, and waiting for him to pass by.

As he did, she lunged in front of him, making both Kane and his following dragon stop suddenly. Her small, freckled face looked covered in dirt, as did her shirt and shorts. She was trying to look some shade of stubborn, but the quivering of her bottom lip and the tears welling in her chocolate eyes kind of ruined it.

"You're that guy," she said. "I see you fly in and outta here all the time."

At sixteen and an only child, Kane didn't have much experience interacting with younger kids. He glanced back at Garon over one shoulder, like the dragon could offer him advice or something, though all he received was a patient, golden-eyed stare, and a curious turn of a horned head.

"Uh, yeah," Kane began awkwardly. "I'm a dragonrider from Kozei. This is my job."

"When are you leaving again?" The girl asked, tilting her chin up as if this would help her lip to stop quivering.

Kane barely resisted the urge to snort a laugh. "Well, in a few hours. Just gotta drop off my load, then get Garon here fed and watered then I'm on my way back to-"

"Please take me with you!"

He watched, bewildered, as the girl darted forward and took two fistfuls of his tunic in her hands. "Please, dragon guy. I have to leave here now! They… they took Sissy, and now I'm all alone, and she told me I can't stay here anymore."

Greeeeeeat. This is just what he needed to start his week: a stowaway. "Uh. Where are your parents?"

"Dead," she answered succinctly. "Sissy was with me, though. But now…" Those tears threatening to spill over now ran in tiny rivers down her smudged skin. "Now I'm alone. Weren't you listening?"

Dammit. His father was going to kill him. Kozei was already low on supplies and food, and bringing another person inside their fences would just be a burden-

"You're dragon's pretty," she was saying. She let go of him and approached Garon with one awed, outstretched hand.

"Wait, he doesn't-" But to Kane's immense surprise, Garon met her halfway, lowered his head and pressed the tip of his scaly nose gently into the girl's waiting palm. "-like strangers… How are you doing that?"

"I like dragons," came the factual reply. "If you take me with you, I promise I'll work hard. I can even cook my own dinner."

Kane sighed. Garon had started purring, his eyes closing halfway, and contented smoke streaming from his nostrils.

"I'm not going to take care of you," he said, crossing his arms defiantly.

The girl mirrored his stance perfectly. "Good, 'cause I can take care of myself!"

"Don't you have anything to take with you?"

She promptly dashed around the corner and returned wearing a laden backpack and an oversized pair of goggles that barely stayed on her face.

Now, Kane did laugh. "Alright. Here." He extended Garon's reins to her. "You can start working now. Take Garon to the pens and get him some water."

Her face lit up brilliantly in a pearly-white smile. "Okay!" She took the leather straps instantly; Kane worried for a moment that she'd jerk Garon's head too much, but she instead made a point not to.

Kane blinked, and called after her, "What's your name?"

She grinned back at him and waved a hand. "Sara Ir-" She paused, both walking and speaking, for just a second. "Er, Baldasarre. Sara Baldasarre. Nice to meet you, dragon guy."

"I have a name too," he retorted. "It's Kane."

"Okay, dragon guy."


He'd married his wife Minna five years later.

Sara had helped Minna and her mother, a longtime Kozei resident named Suka, set up decorations and chairs in the town hall. The three women always got along well, though they were each separated by a decade or more, and had completely opposite hair colors - Sara's was pumpkin-orange, Minna was stark blonde, and his mother's was charcoal-black.

Two years after his wedding, Kane became a father. In all this time, and despite many protests from his wife, he'd cut his hair only once - it now hung in a long sable-brown ponytail halfway down his back. Along with his own father, the Mayor, Alban Clark, Sara often helped take care of his family. She would cook or do laundry, even get them food - just little things that made the chaotic life of a new parent a little easier.

Sometimes she would watch the kids herself. This made Minna slightly nervous, always - Sara wasn't the gentlest of people, and favored wrestling or dangerous sports like archery over much calmer, safer things like reading, or art… But Kane kind of liked it that way. He trusted Sara, always, despite the occasional bruise or scraped knee.

Then, forty-seven days ago, Sara killed his father and mother-in-law.

And Kane had seen everything.

She now stood on his porch. She was wearing the same gauntlets, with the same spikes, and the same claws. Minna and his children were just inside, staring in horror through the open front door; she began urgently rushing them away, into their rooms.

Kane kept a shotgun inside the closet just beside his right hand. He'd be lying if the thought of simply blowing Sara's head clean off hadn't crossed his mind.

"What are you doing here?"

"Where is Garon?"

Kane blinked. His hand was still on the doorknob, and it gripped tighter, shaking. "Wh...what?"

"Garon," Sara continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "And Elsa, and Ouro. And the others, too. Where are they?"

"The Desians," he blurted. "They have all of them- what are you doing here, Sara?"

"Later." Her face was a stony, unforgiving mask that he didn't recognize at all. No warmth, no compassion whatsoever. He never did know why she'd done what she had. What had unleashed such a bloodlust, such a violence he'd never seen-

"Stay here," she was saying resolutely. "I'm going to get our dragons back."

She turned away. A group of others had apparently accompanied her; they all had weapons, and looked like experienced travellers. Bodyguards? Not a bad idea, considering the complete lack of welcome she'd undoubtedly expected. It didn't stop him from wanting to brandish that shotgun.

"Sara. Stop."

She paused. Her steps faltered just like they had eighteen years ago, when he'd first asked for her name.

"We've accepted the Desians," Kane continued, gravelly, nauseous. "We didn't have a choice. If we fight them at all, they'll attack us. They've already injured eight people."

She squared her shoulders. "That's exactly why I need to-"

"Haven't you killed enough of us already?"

She seemed to crumple and draw inwards, as if a great, black hole had opened in the center of her chest. That stony mask of her face shattered. She turned her head so that he wouldn't see - but he did, and he was glad of it.

"Stay here," she repeated thinly. "If they come for you, I'll protect you."

"Bullshit!" Kane lunged for the closet door. "You're just going to-"

"I didn't mean it, Kane," she said suddenly.

Her voice cracked, and the sound of it made his hand pause just in time. She faced him again and stepped closer; he reflexively backed up through the doorway, breathing hard, nearly stumbling on the carpet, his green eyes wide and frantic as they locked onto hers.

"I know that means fuck-all to you, and you don't understand," she continued, futilely attempting to solidify her watery tone. "But I didn't mean to kill them. I'm sorry."

He didn't know what to say. So he just stood there silently and watched her leave.

His wife peeked her head around the corner and started to speak; he cut her off by raising one hand, and motioned for her to return.

"It's not over," he told her, swallowing hard. "Don't… don't come out here."


Lloyd was honestly pretty surprised no one had recognized him yet. After all, he was the famous Wanted Criminal (he couldn't remember the number exactly - something with a seven). Maybe since this was so far away from the other networks of ranches, these Desians weren't as in the loop? He kept eyeing them warily as they left Kozei, his hands hovering forever near the hilts of his blades.

The soldiers had taken over the entire village - its shops, offices, and even many private homes to provide resources for their manufacturing equipment. Kozei's natives didn't look quite as bad as the prisoners from the Human Ranches, but they were pretty close; the Desians were obviously not being generous with their food or medicine. He thought back to what that man said earlier, as Sara had stood on his porch: 'We've accepted the Desians.' And it made his blood boil all over again.

"How can they just sit back and take this?"

"The dragons were all we had," Sara explained. She led them all north, towards the mountains, just as the sun started to set. "The Desians knew what they were doing, by offering everyone so much gald. They never had any intention of leaving the village. Or letting anyone leave, either."

Raine frowned. "So by removing Kozei's only income, the Desians made its people entirely dependent on them. Despicable."

Sara's steps slowed a little. She stared hard down at her boots. "I tried warning them. No one would listen to me. We've been hurting for money for a long time, so as soon as they saw those bags of gald - nothing I said mattered."

"We'll just have to make the Desians pay," Sheena said gravely. When Sara met her gaze, she smirked confidently and rubbed her hands together.

"Yeah," Lloyd agreed. He nudged Sara's shoulder, like she'd done for him so many times. "We're pretty much pros at destroying ranches now. This one won't be any different." And from beside him, Colette nodded fervently and offered a kind, uplifting smile.

Kratos walked behind Sara. She could feel him looking at her back. She turned her head, just enough to catch a glimpse of the determined glint in his garnet eyes, and the silent, supportive nod of his burgundy head.

"Thank you," Sara croaked. She passed the back of her hand swiftly over her eyes. "I don't deserve you guys. Not one damn bit. Thank you."


"Let me take a look," Sheena was saying in a low whisper. They'd managed to hide themselves behind a small outcrop of rocks a few hundreds yards from the entrance of the mountain ranch. But the security was higher this time, and there was less of a distraction now that Sara hadn't singlehandedly started a battle of her own within the walls.

"I'm pretty good at finding ways inside these places," the black-haired girl continued. "I'll be right back. Wait here." She darted off to the left, crouched low; night had fallen, and she bled seamlessly into the shadows, her steps quick and hushed

"Do you think this ranch is run by another of those Grand Cardinals?" Lloyd asked quietly.

Kratos shook his head. "Kvar oversaw this ranch, as well. With the blows we dealt to Asgard and Palmacosta's ranches, it's likely that only his underlings are still here."

Colette took Lloyd's hand again. He spoke slowly: "I can hear… the dragons inside."

For just a moment, Sara felt a disgusting sense of both relief and fury. "So at least some of them are still alive. Good."

They waited in silence for several minutes. Sara poked her head just barely over the rock's face, watching the ranch's well-lit walls, the armed patrols, the thick, solid metal gate she'd crossed through once before. Her claws curled into the stone. Every fiber of every muscle thrummed mightily, anticipatory, impatient. She wanted to launch herself over the rock and tear the gate open herself, stealth be damned-

Kratos stepped up beside her, slowly and with purpose. He had to bend down a little, since he was taller than her, but still managed to do so with a ubiquitous grace.

"You don't need me to tell you anymore," he said softly, peering at her with a sidelong, subtle stare. "Do you?" Though it was more a statement than a question.

Sara widened her eyes a little. "Tell me what?"

"That you will succeed."

"No," she said quickly, and rather surprisingly, without a hint of doubt. "No, I… guess I don't."

His mouth didn't smile, but his eyes seemed to, somehow. "Good."

"Hey, guys, I-"

"Holy shit," Sara hissed at Sheena, who had returned to them completely undetected. Sara gulped down a breath and held her hand to her chest. "You scared the hell out of me."

Sheena scoffed a throaty laugh. "Told you I was good at sneaking. Anyway, I found a weakness in the perimeter wall." She gestured her elbow due north. "There's a maintenance door, and it's only guarded by three Desians. If we take them out, we can get in."

Lloyd ripped out his blades. "Lead the way."

They followed her, carving a wide half-circle before finally zeroing in on said door; Kratos took out the first Desian, while Sara ended the second, and Lloyd the third, in perfect, bloody synchronicity. The door was locked, of course; Sheena fished through the pocket of one Desian, procuring a square card key similar to the one they received from Dorr back in Palmacosta. Within moments, they all filed inside, undetected.

The room beyond was small and dimly-lit; they all barely fit inside. At its opposite end stood a door labeled with a polished brass sign that read "Courtyard." Sara inched towards it; the others stood still, watching her carefully.

Genis did not like how small this room was. He rarely tolerated enclosed spaces of any kind, much less here, and with her. He knew this was Sara's worst fear, where her whole journey with them had started, where she'd lost what was most important to her. He knew that her eyes could turn black again, and that darkness could come back - the one that made him feel like he was being crushed beneath twenty boulders, that pricked his skin, that sucked every bit of breath from his lungs.

"I don't want to do this," he heard himself say.

Raine turned to look at him first, slowly, followed by Lloyd and Colette, then Sheena and Kratos, and lastly Sara herself. Under her brown-eyed gaze, he turned away. He felt a little silly; it's not like he hadn't battled beside her before, but… this place was different. This place was the root of all her evil, of memories he wanted nothing more than to forget.

And Genis wanted no part of it.

"I don't want to do this," he repeated, his kendama hanging limp at his side, his silver head lowered. "I want to leave." He reached out and tugged on his sister's sleeve, though his gaze didn't leave the metallic floor. "Please, can we leave?"

"What are you talking about, Genis?" Lloyd asked, shaking his head. "We all agreed that-"

"It's alright," Sara cut in. She'd given them her broad back, and once more faced the door. Her voice was strangely deadpan and monotonous. "Sheena. There's a House of Salvation two miles east of here. Please take everyone there."

"What?" Lloyd demanded furiously, shoving himself forward. He tried to meet Sara's eyes, but she kept them hidden in her bangs. "But, we're here to help you!"

"By choice," she countered sternly. "Genis isn't. He wants to leave, and that's his choice. I'm not forcing anyone to do anything"

"But I chose to-"

"Raine won't leave him," she continued, glaring with all of her might at that door handle; Lloyd wondered idly if it might burst into flames. "She can't leave her brother. I wouldn't want her to. And she's your teacher, and Colette's. You started this journey together. I can't ask you to separate now."

Lloyd's throat worked. He looked at Colette, who simply stared back at him sadly. Then at Raine, whose sleeve Genis still had a hold of in one small, trembling fist. The Professor's mouth was pulled into a thin, terse line that wordlessly said, she's right.

This tight room seemed to amplify Sara's voice to deafening proportions, even though she spoke barely above a whisper. "Sheena is the only one who can lead you out of here without the Desians noticing. And Kratos is Colette's guardian-"

"Lloyd," the mercenary said suddenly.

The teen glared at him. "What?"

"You have come far in your training," Kratos went on. A compliment? Now? Though welcome, Lloyd wanted to throw his hands in the air in exasperation, because what was happening?

"Protect the Chosen," Kratos finished, and stepped forward.

Sara's bowed head whipped up lightning fast. She gawked at him, her jaw dropped. It was no small wonder that she remained standing at all. But he simply kept looking ahead, as if she didn't exist.

Lloyd felt a little better about all of this, now. Marginally, but enough. At least Sara wouldn't be alone, and he would get to momentarily become Colette's official guardian. Which, in all actuality, was pretty cool, and kind of what he'd wanted since day one, so…

"Alright," he murmured. He took in a breath, extended his arm, and rested one hand on Sara's shoulder. "I would tell you to be careful, but I know you'll be fine."

She turned her head, just a little. But enough for him to see her halfhearted smile. "Thanks, kid. Now get out of here."

Night loomed beyond the doorway, as did the tips of the nearby mountains and the clouds that hovered at their peaks. The moon glowed, a bright, pale sphere. Sara watched her friends leave one by one until the door hissed closed.

The remaining suffocating silence tore at her ears. Kratos hadn't looked at her yet, even though they were alone. She could hear him breathing, and see the steady rising and falling of his broad chest.

"Why did you…" she trailed off, her voice vanishing entirely.

He made no attempt to look at her. She wanted to say something else, some necessary word of gratitude. But instead, before her dumb throat could form intelligent words, Kratos reached out one hand, opened the courtyard door, and said simply: "Follow me."

The strikes he made against the Desians were sure and true. Though he led the charge, Kratos glanced at Sara constantly, asking wordlessly for her feedback. She strode into the fray beside him without hesitation. When she faltered, he provided healing and defense. And she easily caught the movements of enemies that he was too preoccupied to notice. They seemed to be two sides of an hourglass, forever feeding off of one another in an indelible cycle.

It only made sense that Kozei's spoils were kept in the ranch's deepest levels. The small village had been good at one thing, and one thing only - raising and breeding reputable dragons. The Desians cared for none of this, and seemed to delight in stripping away such magnificence. Much like their human captives, these beasts were slim, emaciated and pale. Barely able to move, let alone fight back. Heavy chains were lashed around their ankles and wrists. The wind had been denied to them for too long; as a result, their wings slackened, atrophied, hung useless to the dirt. Scales had been chipped away along their ribs and thighs, exposing raw, angry skin. Proud, battle-worn horns were now brittle and flayed.

"They thought of everything," Sara ground out. "They knew just how to make them suffer-"

"Their chains are mostly lead," Kratos interjected, picking up a link and turning it back and forth in one hand. "Impure, and quickly made. It should be no problem to melt."

The breath left Sara's lungs in a tired sigh. "There's so many… I couldn't-"

"Begin," Kratos commanded. "I will support you. We've no time to waste."

Sara gaped at him. Probably for the thousandth time.

Then, she listened. She focused all of her energy on breaking one chain after another, using her palms as makeshift, remarkably effective blowtorches. Lead, while heavy, was a surprisingly soft metal that melted at what felt like the slightest touch; not nearly as stubborn as the steel of the Tower of Mana's front door. This was like easing a hot knife through butter, rather than a dull, warm knife scraping endlessly through unrelenting stone.

Garon was one of the first. She hardly recognized him, with the sickly green his scales had faded into, and the sunken mask that had replaced his proud, strong face. He knew her scent instantly; as soon as she'd bent to remove his shackles, he'd eased the tip of his nose against her cheek and purred in that low, familiar, slightly terrifying way she'd remembered from day one.

"You're alive," Sara said, nuzzling her face against his long nose. "Oh, shit, you're alive. Thank gods. I've got you, now."

Footsteps shook the ground. Many yelling voices pierced the air, along with the clanking of armor.

"More are coming," Kratos announced, gripping the hilt of his blade with both hands. "Finish quickly."

"Just a few more. Hold them off as long as you can."

"...As you wish."

He cut them down, one after the other - flawlessly parrying each assault, dodging each strike, countering each forward thrust. One of them carried a crossbow aimed straight for Sara's back; the ground beneath the mercenary's feet glowed and swirled with holy symbols, before he flung forward one arm and shouted, "Grave!"

Jagged spears of obsidian rock erupted from the earth and punched cleanly through the Desian's chest. He dropped the crossbow, just as Sara stood and said, "That's all of them. We've got to get them through the gate. They can't fly like this."

Kratos nodded. "This way."

They carved a path foward, until that great metal gate stood just before them. Sara glanced repeatedly back at the dragons. There had to be at least thirty of them, and though a few had a difficult time keeping up due to their injuries, eventually they all gathered around her. Horned heads were craned high. Curious, hopeful purrs rumbled at the base of long throats.

A control panel was anchored to the wall; Kratos approached it, and after a few swift keystrokes, the gate began to scrape open.

"Lead them away," he ordered, meeting her eyes briefly. "I will set the self-destruct mechanism."

The idea of leaving him behind, even temporarily, didn't sit well with her, but she knew she had little choice. So she held one hand beneath Garon's chin, and said softly, "Follow me. I'll get you out of here." The beast groaned a roar of agreement.

With each step forward, the dragons seemed to realize this freedom was not fleeting. They began to beat their wings again, releasing excited, fitful shrieks and growls into the night air. Sara clasped one hand over her chest and lowered her head; a few moments later, Iona joined their ranks. She landed gingerly, bouncing back and forth on her paws, her tail swishing, like she had to decide if what she was seeing actually existed.

Garon called out to her first, then the others did, one by one, until she galloped forward as fast as she could. Her golden wings fluttered jubilantly. She kept showering her long-lost friends and cousins with affectionate, overjoyed nuzzles that were returned with fervent, if exhausted tenacity.

"Iona, my friend," Sara breathed, among a chorus of triumphant roars, "take us home."


Fifteen minutes later, an explosion rocked the ground.

Kane hadn't been sleeping, merely sitting beside his front window and staring out into the night - but it still nearly made him fall out of his chair. He shot to his feet, eyes wide. Glowing streaks of debris sailed into the air just past the neighboring mountains; he could see billowing, angry-red smoke drifting upwards, blotting out the stars and moon.

"What was that?" Minna urged, one hand in each of her children's hair.

He didn't look back at her. "That's where the ranch… I'm not sure. Stay here." He laced up a pair of boots, threw on a jacket, and darted outside.

The first thing he noticed was the complete lack of Desians. Normally they walked patrols at all hours of the night, keeping the village's nine o'clock curfew in strict effect with whips, swords and crossbows. But they'd vanished - recently, it looked like, judging by the fresh footprints in the dry earth. Still, he glanced around warily, listening intently for any sign of trouble.

Nearly all of the villagers had been drawn outside by the blast, too. He spoke with several others, but no one seemed to have any idea what had happened. They ventured across the village, towards the eastern entrance, watching that smoke churn into the air. The fire that fed it glowed blindingly, a flickering, white-hot rage.

As Kane walked closer, he saw several shapes backlit by the flames. Too many. A whole army's worth, and for a moment he filled with dread - were the ranch's Desians coming for them? Had Sara gone and done something stupid, and now they were all going to be punished? Panic crushed the air from his lungs. He turned around quickly, looking frantically back at his house, wondering if he sprinted, could he make it there in time to evacuate his family-

"I don't believe it," someone was saying. "It's our dragons."

Kane didn't believe it. Not one bit. He sprinted, but not back towards his house. Forward, towards those shimmering silhouettes, past houses and neighbors, and all the way through the eastern gate.

When he finally came to a stop, he was heaving for breath. His eyes were strained open wide. He kept shaking his head - because one of those shapes was short, and bulky, and a very familiar, beautiful shade of green.

Garon paused just before him. They all did - so many of the dragons he thought he'd never seen again, that the village had abandoned for greed, that now stood silently watching, and waiting.

"Hey," Kane managed. He held out one hand.

Without missing a beat, Garon pressed his nose against it, and Kane had never felt something so rough, dusty and wonderful.

"I'm sorry," he continued. His voice was awful and ashen, and barely escaped his throat. But Garon didn't care. He simply flared his withered wings, and kept purring.

Suddenly, something bright and orange flashed at the edge of his vision. Kane recognized it instantly. Sara waited a few yards away; she looked a little dirty, and exhausted, but none of this tampered the gleaming, steely resolve in her umber eyes.

"Tarja and Ko'tenda are dead," she announced. Iona, their hatchling, stood behind her, and she idly pressed one hand to the dragon's shoulder. "So are Belial, Iskur, Londys, and Rodan. But I've brought home everyone else."

As soon as she stopped speaking, the dragons rushed forward, meeting their respective owners once more in an array of stunned, tearful reunions. Kane kept looking at her, though. A tall man with reddish-brown hair stood beside her; Kane recognized him as one of the people in her group from earlier in the day. In one hand, he gripped a bloodied sword that he just now, purposefully, put back in its scabbard.

"They're sick," Sara went on. "The Desians did this on purpose. They need food and exercise. It will take awhile for them to recover, but you'll be able to fly on them again soon."

Kane shook his head slowly. "How did you…? The ranch?"

"Destroyed," she assured. "And the Desians won't bother you anymore."

He simply stared at her. There were a thousand and one things he wanted to say, names he wanted to call her, thank-yous he wanted to give, but he couldn't speak.

She was silent for a few moments, too, before she stepped towards him. Carefully, and calmly, like she were overstating her peaceful purpose. This time, he didn't back away.

"You don't have to forgive me," she muttered. "I don't expect you to. Just let us spend the night here." She took in a breath. "And in the morning, let me pay respects to their graves. Please."

Garon nudged his shoulder. Kane should've told her no, absolutely not, that he'd never allow his father's murderer anywhere near his resting place, because that was the ultimate disrespect-

"Alright. Just tonight. And in the morning, afterwards, you're gone."

She held one hand over her mouth. Her eyes filled instantly with tears, and she choked a sob into her palm. But she bowed her head, and her whole body to him in pristine respect.

He heard her struggle to say his name, and then, "Thank you." And she couldn't see it, but he nodded. The others were heading back into the village, dragons in tow. He followed them, keeping one hand pressed against Garon's thick neck.

It took forever for her to stand up straight again. When she finally did, Iona was the only dragon left beside her. The beast was giving Sara a curious stare, her long head cocked slightly to one side, as if asking an unspoken question.

Sara pointed to Kozei. "Of course. Go see them, please."

That was all Iona needed. She galloped away, beating her wings to give herself speed, growling joyfully.

Kratos took her place. He was looking intently at Sara's face, and the way she still had her mouth covered with her hand. Her eyes hadn't stopped watering, and her shoulders were hunched, trembling.

"Th-that's more than enough," she rasped. "That's m-more than I ever hoped for."


This door.

It was familiar. Heavy. Made of stained, worn wood harvested from the trees mere meters from her own house. It both looked and felt indestructible; her hand had been poised above its surface for several seconds, hovering indecisively.

Sara's home was right next to the inn. She'd always liked that. It let her meet new people easier, make business easier… gain friends more quickly. But tonight, it was a curse. It had gotten her here far too fast. She was still standing here, in front of this stupid door, without any idea of what to really say - although it was clear something had to be said. Right? Isn't that how these things worked?

She swallowed hard. The fingers on her left hand tugged through her bangs and back through loose hair. Those of her right hand knocked twice before she returned them quickly to her side. The sharp rapping of her knuckles pierced the air, louder than cannon fire.

A few seconds passed silently. Her earthen eyes were wide and furtive; her ears strained for any sort of noise. Then, finally, in a low, calm voice, she heard: "...Come in."

So she did. The door unlatched as she pressed down its silver handle. Her chest was bursting, full of flames that rose all the way up to her face and cheeks, reddening her freckled skin. She held her breath. The floor creaked and groaned beneath her feet as she stepped into his room.

Kratos was reclined on his bed, halfway sitting. He didn't match the room at all, and came off like some exotic animal housed in a plain, unworthy zoo. His sword and scabbard leaned against the headboard, always within an arm's easy reach. His hands were behind his head - it looked as if he'd been staring out the window beside the door - but they lowered to his sides when he saw her.

It was probably totally his imagination, but he felt the air warm. His wandering senses snapped into focus. His chin raised, and his lips parted just a bit at his next breath.

She closed the door and stood before it, her head lowered. Those fiery bangs hid her eyes, which seemed to be locked straight onto the floor. What he could see of her face was tense and fragile, but she smiled anyway.

"Hey," she said softly.

Normally she was an open book and Kratos (or anyone, really) could pretty easily read into her intentions. That was not the case right now. Her emotions felt nebulous, unstable. He sat up and nodded a greeting back.

One of her hands fidgeted with the hem of her grey skirt. Her hair was down - he wasn't sure if he'd ever seen it that way before. She looked like she'd been ready for sleep but had chosen to visit him instead; atop her skirt she wore a comfortable, short-sleeved black shirt, and her usual matching leggings were absent.

"I, um…" She sucked in a breath. "I know it's late, but I just wanted to say thanks. For earlier."

Kratos sat up more and slid his legs off the side of the bed, watching her. Outside, it had started to rain, the drops plunking softly to the dusty ground and accepted gratefully into the parched dirt. Against the inn's wooden roof, it echoed pleasantly, creating a soothing white noise that covered his silence. He wanted to speak, but he sensed that she hadn't quite finished. Her voice was brittle, and he also wanted to ask why - although he already knew the answer.

"It…" She paused for a shuddering sigh. "It really meant a lot to me."

His chest tightened. One of the hands at his sides did, too, as he slowly stood up. The world began to melt away, until she, and him, the rain on the roof and this warm, quiet room were the only things to exist.

"I know," he said quietly.

"Kratos…" She kept looking at her feet like she felt afraid to meet his eyes. "You keep doing all this incredible shit for me, and I-I can't…"

Can't what? Can't what? Take it anymore? Wait any longer? He wanted her to say it. He needed her to say it, but she never did, because she was too compassionate, too patient, too perfect.

Thunder crashed outside, an appropriate soundtrack to what went on inside of him. He was standing still but felt the world sway. He gently said her name.

"If you tell me to leave right now," she said, "I will. And I won't say another word."

He knew that was an irrefutable fact. And it made the bottom drop out of his chest. His heart slid forth unstoppably, vulnerable, desperate. Absently, he clutched one hand to his sternum as if attempting to hold it in, his fingers pressing into the royal blue fabric of his tunic.

He didn't want to tell her; he'd never wanted to. But this time was different.

Because he couldn't.

Her eyes snapped up to his, watery, chocolate-brown. She covered her mouth with one hand as she shook her head, like she were ashamed of her words, although they were the among the most beautiful he'd ever heard:

"Please don't tell me to leave-"

Her voice was painful to hear, like the shattering of glass.

So he crossed the room, and silenced it with his lips.

Kratos ravaged her mouth with frenzied, fierce kisses, fueled by an insistent roaring from his gut - at last craving more, finally demanding her. His hands cradled her freckled face. Small sounds kept leaking from his throat because he never ever could've predicted how absolutely wonderful she tasted, or the citrus-spice scent of her hair and skin, or how good her fingers felt as they curled urgently against his head… or the sublime combination of softness and solidity as her body pressed into his.

She was unreal. She shouldn't be here at all. And she really shouldn't be kissing him back, especially this well, and with this much ferocity. He'd given her so many reasons to move on. But she'd waited - and she'd listened.

It made his thumbs press harder against her jaw, his breaths deepen, his hips pin her against the wall with scalding certainty.

"Kratos," she choked breathlessly, "i-is this really happening?"

"Gods, I hope so," he managed against her lips - just before claiming them again.

(HEY! SO THAT DISCLAIMER TOTALLY STARTS HERE. This story is rated T, but the following scene is definitely M territory for sexual content. If you wish to avoid this, skip forward to the next similar bold underlined interjection. Thank you!)

Before he knew it, she had unbuttoned the clasps of his cloak and shoved it from his bare shoulders. He dove his hands beneath her shirt, splaying his fingers wide against the smooth skin of her back as it curved into him, serpentine, lithe and lean and perfectly alluring. He somehow managed to tear his lips from hers and slide them down onto her throat. She had the most lovely neck; for whatever reason, it was one of his favorite things about her figure, and there was had been so many times when he'd wondered what it would be like to do exactly this, to feel her throat work beneath his mouth, to taste her pulse. The one time before he'd tried, forever ago on Thoda Island, only served to pique his interest further and did literally nothing in the way of whetting his appetite for more.

He'd seen completely through the underworld darkness that had clouded her eyes there. He saw her at her absolute lowest - when her essence, everything he both vehemently admired and found unbelievably frustrating, had barely been there at all. And she'd fought her way back, though darkness he couldn't begin to imagine.

Her inner strength overwhelmed him. She was fire, a blazing, fearless passion - but she had still been merely a dream back then. A dream he most definitely wanted, but hadn't been ready for. If the Chosen hadn't picked that exact dumb-luck moment to show up, he probably wouldn't be here right now, listening to Sara's harsh exhales, feeling her demanding fingers work at the middle seam to his tunic. He finished what she'd started and tore it from his torso without ever letting his lips leave her throat. The only light in the room came from a lantern on the nightstand beside the bed; its flames cast flickering, immaculate shadows across his skin and the hardened muscles it sheathed.

"Oh, shit," she was panting, and her hands in his hair had started to tremble, as had the breath in her chest. "Oh, gods, Kratos, I can't breathe-" And she raised his mouth to hers again, a crushing kiss broken momentarily by the pull of her shirt over her head. She kept gliding her palms across his bare chest and collarbones in sensuous, worshipful caresses. It incensed his already pyroclastic blood. Finally, he stripped off his gloves.

He pulled his head away from hers. And he looked at her, into her tense face and her endless earthen eyes, his thumbs ghosting delicately across her freckled cheeks and over the edge of her bottom lip.

"Come to bed with me," he rumbled, a deep, licentious whisper. And he tacked on her name at the end, the loudest word, because he felt like he should.

It looked like she wanted to say something back but she never did. So she nodded instead. And they crossed the room, and he ended up on his back on the mattress, with her knees pressed into the blankets on either side of his hips.

He kept his hands on her ribs, a sensual barometer. She felt rigid, nervous - which was kind of preposterous, because her lucent candor about her previous love life meant she had plenty of experience in this area. He was a little nervous too, impossibly - nothing made Kratos nervous, and she knew that. Which made her more nervous.

Her lethal fingers curled into the sheets beside his ears. Strands of her flamelike hair touched his chin. He stared up at her in wonderment, his red-tinted eyes wide. She held her breath: one final, maddening, and impossibly perfect request for permission.

Even now, she waited. Even now, when they were half-naked and passion-drunk on his bed, she waited. And Kratos melted inside all over again.

He breathed her name. Her jaw tensed, stretching her delicious neck, and her ribs shuddered. He unbuckled both belts at his waist. And in a few indelible seconds he joined with her, sliding exquisitely into her core. She collapsed against his chest, her forehead pressing into the crook of his neck, and both of her hands gripping, biting into his shoulders.

"You," she gasped. "Oh, Kratos, you're so good-"

His head craned back. His mouth hung open as his eyes slammed closed. He was entirely inclined to return the compliment, but found only air in his vapid throat, bereft of words. Instead, he clamped his hands on her hips and guided her into motion - slow, magnificent, lustrous.

Sara found this frustrating. She was fierce and impatient, and he wouldn't change her for anything - but if she kept her intended pace things would peak far too soon. And he didn't want this to end quickly. Never, really, if he got his way. She kissed him again; her teeth tore gently, persistently at his lower lip, and her fingernails bit into his jaw.

"Easy," he commanded. "Breathe for me, my love."

He hadn't meant to call her that. Really, he hadn't. It just kind of happened, much like everything else had tonight. But now that the words had left his lips, he found them incredibly appropriate and never thought once about undoing them.

She listened, again. Her movements slowed. Her breaths calmed. She stared hard into his cinnamon eyes, her lips parted, her hair swaying.

"Please say that again," she said quietly.

"My love," he echoed, melting, drowning unstoppably. He slid his long fingers gently into her hair and kissed her again, deliberately. Lovingly, and with all the tenderness he could impart. "...I do not deserve you."

"Shut up." She sank into the mattress, drawing him deep inside of her, swallowing his gasp. "...You're the only one who ever has."

And then she dropped her lips to his chest. She kissed gently from the middle of his sternum, over his collarbones and up his neck. All the while, her hips performed small, magical circles against him that stole his breath. He tilted his jaw, extending his vulnerable throat, encouraging her exploration.

That had probably been difficult for her to say. Resilient and hard-headed, Sara didn't need anyone. She didn't waste any time pining over what could've been or what hadn't worked in her past - but loneliness just hurt after awhile. It buzzed and hovered ominously, darting and stinging at its whim, no matter how furiously it was swatted away. And Kratos, perhaps, knew this better than anyone.

He sat up slowly. One arm braced behind him while the other wrapped around her waist, keeping her marvelously anchored to his hips. She watched him carefully as he guided her to her back, beneath him. She tensed, for just an instant - in any fashion, not being in control made her extremely wary, as he knew very well - but he felt it, and smoothed it away with a brush of his lips across her temple.

"Then I am yours," he vowed.

She let him take her. She made no move in the contrary, no struggle to top him again, and matched him equally in force and urgency. Sometimes, she would teeter right on the edge of either tears of violence - after all, her hands were largely used for battle, and she had incredibly, impossibly strong fingers - but he always knew, and always guided her back to him. He wasn't sure how he managed to breathe, because his mouth was either always on hers or some part of her delectable dark skin. When she came, she said his name, every time - every time - and he loved the sound of it with more voracity than he ever thought possible, like her tongue had been made for it alone.

He wanted to let her end him. He started to move, to bring her back on top, but her arms around him tugged him back down.

"Don't stop, Kratos," she ordered. That was perfectly fine with him. He nodded against her throat.

He said her name, too - growled, really, in a low rumble that ended with a perfect, breathless moan. After banal yet necessary assurance that she was properly protected, he finished deep within her, his eyes pressed closed, his angled face half-hidden by chaotic burgundy bangs and exquisitely strained.

SAFE ZONE REACHED! YAYYYY SAFE ZONE REACHED! YAYYYY SAFE ZONE REACHED YAYYYY

NO MORE SHENANIGANS! NO MORE SHENANIGANS! NO MORE SHENANIGANS! (THAT WORD LOOKS WEIRD NOW)

Sara lapped up every glorious second. Kratos was unbelievably beautiful. She'd wanted for the longest time to know what he looked like in this moment, that mask of frigidity melted away, all control and reason tossed aside, and it outdid her wildest imagination.

When he returned to the earth, she immediately kissed him once more in appreciation.

"You're not real," she muttered into his mouth.

It was just a few twitches of his broad chest, but he laughed. And, almost embarrassed, he muffled it against her shoulder, as if suddenly aware of how strange it was. "I certainly hope I am. Otherwise this is the most vivid hallucination I've ever experienced."

"'Vivid' is right," she agreed, threading her hands into his hair when his head relaxed against her chest. "Holy shit."

"Always so eloquent," he mumbled, his fingertips tracing teasing lines across her chest and shoulder. His right ear rested just over her heart; it beat divinely, a heavenly, reassuring thrum. She tried to curse him again but it came out as a hiss and arch of her back.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked softly.

His wandering fingers stilled, but he didn't raise his head. "If you wish."

"When did you first know?"

"Know what?"

"How you felt. About me. About… us." Because 'us' was a noun that had meaning now. It made him just a little weird, a little uncomfortable - but most importantly, it made him smile.

He stayed silent for a little while. But he knew the answer. It stood out starkly in his thoughts, a pinprick of light among layers of darkness. He closed his eyes.

"Palmacosta," he admitted, listening to her breathe. "A boy. And a toy dragon."

"Oh." She pursed her lips as her fingertips massaged the back of his neck. "Really? I was just doing what I thought I had to."

"I know. That's why."


A/N:

You have now finished reading my favorite chapter of all :) Thank you! I would really appreciate reviews on this chapter in particular, given its contents and emotional significance to both Kratos and Sara. It was a long, frustrating battle to bring the two of them together - but grief doesn't make this kind of thing easy in real life, so it wouldn't in this story, either.

Lyrics at the beginning are from "Switching Off" by Elbow.

Thanks for reading!