"I'm sorry. I just…I'm sorry."

Like a friend comforting someone sick outside a bar Imalia patted the young girl on the back as around them the world slotted itself back into place like a smashed jigsaw puzzle put back together by invisible hands. She could still feel the false memories jangling in her skull as they faded away. Even though she knew who she was she still felt off-put as they melted away, visions of other lives she had never led and under them a disappointment and longing over something she couldn't quite describe. As if in the midst of all that chaos she had been able to glimpse the perfect world that her brother described, a smiling figure staring at her with love. But even as she tried to focus on it, grab it and hold it tight, it slipped away and she was left back in the world. The angel who had tried to make paradise real retched and moaned in pain on the floor, those off-white wings shimmering as they faded away, replaced by the cold wind of the roof they stood on. "It's alright, it's alright," she repeated softly. She hoisted Almas up as gently as she dared and began to walk.

She carried the half-unconscious girl down the stairs into the palace. Even as spring came around to their part of the world, winter tried to hang on tenaciously and its icy fingers still covered the town. Servants and those Faithful permitted into the inner areas moved out of their way hurriedly as she carried the exhausted Sorceress back to her rooms. On the way they passed people collapsed in the halls of crying as they stared at nothing, those who had looked into Time Compression and found themselves in places they hadn't wanted to be torn from, and now cried over what they had lost. In the distance she could hear faint cries, and wondered what those people had seen. Maybe loved ones lost years ago, or themselves living better lives than they were here. One of the nameless staff stood out from the others, a black shadow passing by soundlessly, and she recognised it instantly. He had better reason than most to be affected, and yet here he was still standing, if not exactly unscathed. "Kettil."

The man seemed to be dazed and not a little confused. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of her voice and it seemed to take him an age to recognise who was calling him. "Ms…Aimsland?" He tried to stand to something resembling an upright stance but halfway through had to grab onto the wall for support. "I…I'm sorry. It's just…I saw…"

She wanted to walk over to the man and ask him what was wrong but she had her hands full, literally, and had to settle for calling the closest servant to see to the man. She knew his story, why he followed her brother so loyally. What had happened to him had been a travesty, and she wondered how close the man had come in the abortive attempt at Time Compression to being in his perfect world. She knew what it was like to have something snatched away from her, and then come so close to having it again. At least in her case she had gotten back what she had lost. "Look after him," she told the attentive young woman as they each led their invalids away.

"Wasn't strong enough…" Almas whispered as Imalia set her down gently on the bed. The room was in a tower built on a small outcropping, with a small rose garden outside and only one door connecting it to the palace-proper. Nobody could go in or out without passing through that garden. "It's fine, it's fine," she whispered as she shut the door behind her. "Let her sleep. No visitors," she said to the guards, her tone leaving no room for disagreement. One time she had passed by the doorway and found the rose garden filled with penitent Faithful, all clamouring around Almas with some question or petition or plea. Almas had been too soft-hearted to send them away, and she had looked exhausted. Imalia had fixed that soon enough. Now the list of people that could enter the garden could be counted on her hand. She was going to have words with one of them now.

Taking a breath to calm her irritation and closing her eyes, her power reached out and searched the palace for its twin. It was difficult. When she had first awoken into her real life she had asked why Morden hadn't placed himself as Almas' knight, and he had told her and shown her. She was shocked at how little of the power he inherited. As if some sleight of fate's hand had skipped over the firstborn and deposited the magic into the next-inline. Whatever the reason her own Blue power burned like a furnace inside her soul. In Morden's it was merely a dull ember that flickered occasionally. She could twist and bend nothingness and energy until it cut and burned and tore. The best he could do was picking up the occasional stray thought. She reached into and through the walls of the castle and found the tiny spark deep in the library. With a sigh she set off after it.

"What were you thinking?"

He was sat reading when the doors opened, but she knew he had been pacing. The mote of his soul had jittered back and forth as she had approached it, pacing the length of the room. He looked up and smiled at her, but she knew he was doing it for the benefit of the guards that were looking in on them. She turned. "Leave us."

They did so, and Morden seemed to slump in his seat even before the door had entirely shut. "I know, I know," he began placating, but she wasn't going to be put off.

"She's not ready yet. Not yet and not after the effort we went to in Timber. What were you thinking?"

All of the emotion he kept battened down out in public he let out here, when it was just the two of them or him alone. The confident and smiling and all-knowing Morden Aimsland was replaced with something just that little less confident. He reminded her of someone, although she couldn't think who. Another echo from a false life. She had chased most of them down and expunged them, but some hung on tenaciously. There was a name there somewhere in her head, and she couldn't destroy it no matter how hard she tried. Xu. Who was it? She didn't know. Or, right now, care.

"I had hoped…"

She sat down across from him. "I know what you hoped, but we were agreed on this. She's young and she's still trying to get to grips with her own power. You know this." She poked him in the forehead lightly. "Don't go getting ahead of yourself, you'll trip us both up."

He nodded. For a second he looked hesitant, as if trying to decide something. Then; "Did you see anything?"

It took her a heartbeat to realise what he meant. Inside the Time Compression. "I saw everything. Everything and nothing." It had been like a deluge flowing through her mind. Like she had been standing at the crossroads of all existence as every event and word and thought had flowed past her. Even as other lives and worlds had forced themselves through her mind she could pick out nothing coherent, like waking up and not being able to remember your dreams. "You?"

"I thought I saw them for a second." He shook his head and when he spoke she could hear the longing in his voice. "Just for a second."

The memories she had of her parents were blurred things, like a movie viewed through frosted glass. When she had been brought up coughing and exhausted from the white cell she had been re-born in, Morden had tried to share what memories of them he had, to use their power to give her some of his past. It had worked, but even then all she had received of her own real family were some blurred images and muffled words. Either Morden himself hadn't been able to recall them too well or the process simply hadn't worked with his limited power, because she still couldn't see those images clearly. She had received the feelings behind them though, loud and clear. What had done to him and their parents, how they had been captured and used. How he'd came so close to them again in Ultimecia's aborted Time Compression but been dragged back to reality as his goddess had died. Who had been responsible. Those feelings were crystal-clear to them both.

The siblings sat there in silence, Imalia staring at her brother as he brooded on whatever it was he had seen inside the flowing timeless universe of Almas' power. No sound got through the heavy stone walls into the room and the silence in the library was almost stifling. Finally she couldn't take it anymore. Every since meeting Leonhart in Timber the need to hunt down and make the SeeDs account for their crime was like an engine whirling inside her with an infinite fuel source. The need to go out there and find them and do harm. To finally erase or bury or put to rest the paper woman the world had called Quistis Trepe. She stood. "I'm going out."

He only seemed to half-hear the words. "Hmm?"

"Dincht and his cronies are still making noise in the city. I'm going to dispose of these irritants once and for all." She reached across the table and took his hand. Smiled. "Don't worry. It'll all be over soon, I promise." She let go. "Just…have a little patience. You've waited decades, you can wait a few weeks more." Or months, or years. She didn't know how long it would take Alma to fully embrace and understand the Sorcery inside her. She hoped it wouldn't be much longer, or that in the meantime Morden's impatience and longing wouldn't overrule his caution or common sense.

She passed a guard on the way out of the room. "Assemble a group; everyone you've had hunting down the SeeD brats. I want to know everything they know."

The soldier bowed, the white armband shifting on his arm. "Yes, Lady. Their orders?"

"Come armed. We're going hunting."

"Certainly. I-" The man gasped and went to one knee, an Imalia was already turning in exasperation as she knew what he had seen.

"You're meant to be sleeping," she said sternly.

"I've had enough sleep," Almas said as she adjusted her clothing. She'd thrown off the blackened and frayed uniform she had dressed in when she had been a member of the Duchess' guard. Now she was dressed more like Imalia herself. A jacketed gray ensemble that fell somewhere between military officer and religious garb.

Or a sacrificial maiden. "I wish you'd listen when I ask you to do things." The look she gave her wasn't quite angry, and Almas stared back with defiance. "I don't want you in danger."

"You're always putting yourself in danger. It doesn't…I should be there with you at least. Kettil told me a soldier should face his own enemies."

It was true, and in the way of all wise older women dealing with stubborn young girls she ignored it. "You're not a soldier, Almas. You're a Sorceress, and I'm your Knight, it's my job to keep you safe and destroy your enemies for you." She'd read the books in the library, Sorceresses and Knights riding out together. They'd tried it in Timber and she hadn't been disappointed in the skill the girl showed with her abilities. Even so there was something...wild...she didn't trust about that power. She wondered how much control Almas really had over it. They had only known each other for a few weeks but either she was a softer touch than she thought or Morden had been right about their connection, because Imalia felt a protectiveness towards her that wavered between a watchful eye to occasional nervousness if she wasn't nearby. Like a daughter, Kettil had commented once with a slight smile, the closest the man ever came to laughing.

"Im…Imalia?"

She looked around as the quiet voice echoed through the empty hall. "Hello?" Is she talking to me?

The young woman edged around the door nervously and stood there, a look of nervous happiness on her face as if she didn't know whether it was okay to smile. "I'm Almas Jordin. Did Mr…did Morden tell you about me?"

Even the mere sound of the name sends a small current through her. When she had first awoken she had clung to his name like an anchor against the tides of amnesia and he had held her and not let go. She was lucky to have had him, everything he had done for her. The first thing she had asked after her name had been for her past, and he had provided it in spades. In books and his own words and in memories, taken from his mind and deposited into her own. Still though she felt like she was moving through a world of shadows; things she passed and almost recognised, people who passed her either with deference, hatred or polite pity. She was a character dropped into a play halfway through the last act with no script or queue, and everyone was waiting for her next line. Small wonder she spent so much time in her room. She had few visitors. "He might have mentioned something." She searched her memory, what little she had of it. The name Jordin rang a bell but there was nothing to go with it, just a name on a piece of paper torn out of a missing book. "Can I help you?"

She walked a little further into the room, in halting steps like she afraid to get closer but felt compelled to do so. "It would be easier if I…umm…watch." And before Imalia could react she reached out a hand, and grabbed it.

It was like something grabbed hold of her soul and pulled. She had to fight with everything she had to stay conscious as something white and hot rushed into her and wrapped itself around her heart. She tried to wrench her hand out of Almas' grasp but the girl was already letting go. She coughed as the world began to stop spinning. "What in…what was that!"

"She's a Sorceress, sister." Morden strode into the room like he owned it, and sat down on the bed next to her. "You share a bond, you and her. A bond that makes you strong, stronger than anyone."

She hadn't felt strong. She felt drained. She just stayed quiet as Morden began to talk. About age-old dynasties and conquering heroes, and kings and queens and goddesses. About the nature of time and power, and a destiny that had snatched away from them. He talked about the people that had taken his destiny, the shining destiny of the world, and smashed it against the rocks. Through all this she found a word and latched onto it. "I'm a knight?"

"All Sorceresses have Knights."

She didn't quite know how she felt about that. She looked up at the woman – barely older than a girl – standing in the room looking between them both and smiling nervously. There was no sign of the power that Morden talked about. Only that soul-sucking void that had reached into her. "It's a little much to take in. On top of…on top of everything." Too many new words clashed in her mind, with feelings behind them. She loved a brother she hadn't known until days ago, missed a family she would never meet. Felt a surge of protectiveness towards the other young woman that scared her, and above and beyond all that a dull ember of hatred for a people who called themselves SeeDs.

"It was known, since the day I-" he hesitated, and for a second the smile on his face cracked just a little "- since the day you were born." Her brother turned to leave. "I'm sorry if I can't stay but I have a lot of work ahead of us. You two should talk without me." He left as quickly as he had entered, and she felt a stab of annoyance at him.

Almas stared after him and then turned back to her. "He really is. Busy."

"I know." She felt a mild irritation that he hadn't thought to include her, and resolved herself to getting onto her feet as quickly as possible. She was supposed to be strong, was she? Then she had better there quickly. She looked across the room at the silent creature, who stared back nervously like a puppy seeking approval. For a moment she wavered between treating her like a servant or a comrade. Instead she settled on honesty. "I'm sorry, it's a confusing time for me right now. I have…I'm still getting over what happened to me. I just need a little time to adjust." Almas nodded eagerly. "We're going to be working together a lot, apparently. So let's start from the beginning." She reached out a hand and said the words for the first time, to see how they felt in her mouth. "My name's Imalia Aimsland. Nice to meet you."

They felt right.

"Where are you going?"

She turned up the collar of the greatcoat against the sea-air. The breeze had picked up in recent days and she wondered whether a storm was coming. "Just out into the town." To survey the damage. Even though she didn't say the words Almas seemed to pick up on it and didn't ask to go with her. For all her power the girl didn't have as strong a stomach as her Knight.

The path outside the palace was deserted as she strode down towards the city-proper. Usually thronged with pilgrims or civilians going home at the end of the day, today it was empty. She cocked an ear out but heard nothing, not even down the hill. She didn't bother to turn, knowing she would be heard and obeyed; "Tell my brother I've gone to take care of his mess."

Down below the city seemed to be at a standstill. Meals left un-eaten on café tables as people had rushed out without eating (or paying, probably), businesses that she'd passed by stood unoccupied. Some had been looted. Not that everyone had left. As she walked she heard grunting noises and turned the corner to see a small boy, barely old enough to be in school, dragging something heavy behind him as he made his way slowly and painfully down the slope towards the town. She only took a moment to realise what it was, and she rushed over and bent down next to him. "Hey." He didn't seem to hear her, just kept on pulling the unconscious or worse body of the man. She placed himself in her way and only when his back hit her did he stop and look around. "Are you okay?" She cursed herself and started again. "Do you need any help?"

The boy gaped for a second, and tears formed in his eyes as he gabbled words between sobs. She caught the most important ones though. Dad. Sick. Hospital. The man must have been a local dockworker, and the boy was exhausting himself dragging him. Without waiting for permission she got down on her knees and hauled as hard as she dared, and dragged the man up until he leaned against her. She felt something give way and before he could fall down she pushed from within herself. The son of the man watched mouth agape as a pale blue light surrounded the pretty lady and his dad, and she hauled the massive man up easily. "Let's go."

She passed others on the way. Some lay in the street where they had fallen, others were staggering around in a sightless daze as if looking for something lost. Once or twice she heard screaming fights coming from inside houses as people looked around and didn't recognise the people they lived with. The boy trailed behind her but any attempt she made to talk with him was met with stony silence. The small minority of those truly affected by the seconds-long Compression were helped out of burning homes or gently led and taken care of by those who had been spared the worst of it. Even then she saw far too many people with that same expression in their eyes; they had looked into that maelstrom of worlds and time and seen something they had been unable or unwilling to cope with, and it had broken them. When they finally came to the hospital the doors slid open to reveal a packed waiting room. When she finally managed to catch the eyes of a nurse she dropped off the man and boy and backed away. The smell of illness and vomit combined with the tang of antiseptics and sickly-sweet drugs assaulted her like a gas, and she found herself back outside, gulping down fresh air.

God damn you brother. You should have waited.

"Time Compression?" The words shifted inside her, stirring up a feeling she couldn't quite pin down. She just sat as her brother paced up and down the balcony talking at length. She still had some trouble, distinguishing between her own feelings and the memories he had given to her, to replace the ones she had lost. Still, they felt real. It was anticipation.

"A better world than this. That's what our power is for, that's the thing we were born to create. Somewhere free of the muck and dirt and pain of this place." He looked out over the city and his eyes were wide. She smiled. He always did this without realising it, the passion he put into his speeches. It was why the Faithful below followed him, how he had built his army.

"How?" Give me details. Her brother was a dreamer, but you needed to have your feet on the ground to have your head in the clouds.

He smiled at her and Almas, who shifted beside her. Unless one of them was needed they were rarely apart. Kettil had taken her away soon after she had fully recovered from her long dark sleep and explained a few things to her. Where she had come from, how she had come to be. After hearing the whole story she had no problems with what Morden had asked of her. They'd spent days just talking. There were huge gaps in her knowledge, from the time she had been asleep and trapped as Quistis Trepe, and the young woman's own personality was stunted and ill-formed from being used as a mute weapon by that rotten Nerva man. "When the time is right you'll know, sister."

When you're both stronger, he didn't say. Imalia didn't mind this. There was a lot to do here. A town to keep running and a list of names to dispose of, some of them far, far away. Let it take time. She wanted to stand over the ruins of Balamb Garden that had taken her life from her, all the years she had missed. She wanted to go to Esthar and build a grave to her family. She wanted to tear down Galbadia and replace it with something else. The magic flowed through her, cool and blue and refreshing, and she knew given time enough she could do it. Every day she could feel more of it. Whatever spark had passed over her brother had taken root in her, and was flowering. She wondered how strong she could have been, if her other dead self hadn't spent her life afraid of it, pushing it down. Such a waste. "And SeeD?"

Morden smiled, but not at her. He was looking out, over the ocean. "Let them come. They tore down our first chance at a perfect world, let them stand outside and stare in at the new one."

"Are…are you? Are you the Knight? Can...can you help me?"

She looked around to see a wide-eyed woman staring at her like she had seen a ghost. A quick glance and the white band on her arm told Imalia why. "The doctors are inside." She needed to get away, out of that place filled with the unfortunates.

"Please, help me." The ragged woman grabbed her sleeve and held it like a talisman. "I can still see them. Children. I held them in my arms. Now I can't find them. I can't...I don't know their names anymore. They're here somewhere. I know it. I just-"

Another victim. Either the children had never been real or they were and her true memories had been lost in the shuffle as time moulded together. "I'm sorry, I can't help you."

The woman tugged at her arm and she found herself propelled along. "Please. Just come and help."

She hesitated. She wanted to get back up to the palace. Make sure Almas was okay. Take her foolish brother to task for the misery his impatience had caused. Arrange some real help for the madness taking place down here. A knight is a guardian. "Alright. Where."

The woman looked pathetically grateful and Imalia allowed herself to be led away as her mind turned over with random thoughts and plans. Since her rebirth she had immersed herself into everything she could find on the events of the last year. She'd absorbed dozens of papers and interviews and recordings, everything she could find on the situation she had come into being in. Names and personalities flitted through her head as her feet were on autopilot.

Esthar will move now, they have to. They wanted to let SeeD try and handle us but they can't ignore this. They'll move on Timber first and try to take it back, they already know they can't get their starship above Dollet without losing it. Almas had proudly told her about the red thing she had brushed against, and she had realised what it was immediately. She had asked Almas to take more…drastic…action if she felt it again, and the Sorceress had gladly agreed. They'll come overland from Timber, and get SeeD to come from the coast. If only we could find the damn place! Balamb Garden was the wildcard she didn't like. Trabia and Galbadia were accounted for but the final academy sat there somewhere on the waves, hidden and unreachable. If only we could find it!

"This…this is…we're here."

Imalia looked up at the ruined building and felt a stab of sympathy run through her. The place hadn't been lived in for decades, abandoned and condemned for longer, probably. She put on a brave smile and tried to give a little hope back to the lost woman. "Let's find your children." Even as she the words she felt the lie behind them. She strode through the door. "Now where-"

SLAM

She spun just in time to see something shoot down from above hard and fast, and instantly the light was cut off as a massive slab of iron thumped into place between her and the door. She heard the voice of the woman again, but instead of panicked weeping now there was just a single self-satisfied word and a happy chuckle: "Sucker."

The windows had already been boarded, and as the light snapped on she saw the guns pointed at her, and the people staring out at her from behind them. For all of that she wasn't worried, not yet. Instead she felt something else. "Well? And you are?" She knew already of course, just looking at them before her, and she felt that familiar anger settle in as she saw the badge and face behind it, flanked by figures she had seen on a dozen pictures and wanted signs. The one-eyed woman and giant kept their guns steady on her, as the blonde spoke. She knew the name that went with the face. Normally with a cocky grin, now it looked dead serious.

"Hey Quisty," Zell Dincht said.