As it turned out, the first leg of their journey to Camlann was far more tedious than treacherous. Rose found herself missing the dangers she had anticipated—not only because she would have liked to keep herself sharper if they were heading to their final confrontation, but because the silence was killing her. Dezel may not have given up his voice altogether, thank gods, but he still flatly refused to tell her what he had given up.

Not that Rose had pried about his oath, of course, in an effort not to seem overbearing, but her curiosity was beginning to get the better of her… especially since Dezel had seemed on edge ever since his awakening. He had never been especially talkative, but as the hours and days passed by, he actively started avoiding social interactions. More than once Rose caught him staring at nothing, lost in thoughts she dared not interrupt.

Perhaps that was for the best, however; Dezel may not have changed, exactly, but he spoke even more directly than usual—and, more problematically, he seemed even less able to tactfully navigate sensitive conversations. At first, she was willing to believe that he was simply becoming reaccustomed to being a seraph; but as the days wore on, she couldn't help but wonder whether this strange tension that had arisen between Dezel and his companions had something to do with his oath.

His current behavior was a stark and unwelcome contrast from his uncharacteristic warmth upon awakening, and the oath was the only thing Rose could think of that might have changed it. Still, she couldn't bring herself to mention it; as much of a taboo as it was to break an oath, it seemed just as heinous to inquire after it. She could only keep walking in the darkness and the silence, taking in her dreary surroundings and wishing Dezel had to walk beside her again, if only so she could hold his hand.

Thankfully, it wasn't more than a week before they reached the end of Cornic Formerly-Sealed Caves, as Edna had so spitefully begun to call them. Rose never thought she'd be so happy to see a stormy sky as when they finally stepped out into the open. Granted, her good mood was in no small part due to Sorey's declaration that he was going to go hunting as soon as they got out of the caves.

Their food supplies had dwindled to uncomfortably low levels, and cave-dwelling monsters had never made for especially appetizing meals, even with Edna directing the cooks. The prospects of eating real food again made Rose's mouth water, but unfortunately, her joy was short-lived: an almost tangible heaviness settled down suddenly on her core as soon as they set foot outside the cavern, and she clutched at her chest automatically.

Evidently, the others felt it too, and perhaps more acutely still. "This malevolence," murmured Lailah's voice from within Sorey. "It feels… familiar. But more powerful than ever."

"Is it Eizen?" asked Dezel, emerging to take off his hat and scan the skies.

Edna flinched at the unexpected mention of her brother, and Sorey rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I don't know," he remarked, glancing up at the murky cliffsides. "It's strong, but I'm not sure it's dragon strong, and I can't tell where it's coming from."

"So what you're saying is there's nothing we can do about it for now," remarked Edna's voice sardonically, "but if it finds us, we'll show it the fight of its life."

"Pretty much," responded Sorey, and though his tone was light, his countenance was serious. "Either way, I'll still need to go hunting," he added, holding up Mikleo's Divine Artifact. "We're not going to have anything to eat tonight if I don't. Can you three hold down the fort while I'm gone?" he added, glancing between his corporeal companions.

"Isn't it dangerous to split up like this?" pressed Alisha, wide-eyed and anxious. "Can't you send one of the seraphim hunting, or something? Or can't we all go?" She glanced around at Rose and Dezel as if asking for corroboration, but Rose could offer none. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"I've hunted before, and they haven't," pointed out Sorey simply. "I'm not going far, and you know Rose has the power of purification," he assured Alisha, when she didn't seem especially convinced. "It's easier to hunt on my own, and I won't really be alone as long as the seraphim stay inside me. I'll be back before you know it."

"Don't go getting into any trouble, got it?" asked Rose, putting her hands on her hips. "If you do, I'll show you trouble when you get back." He wasn't allowed to leave her out of the good fights, especially since they'd established long ago that of the two of them, it was her job to take life.

"Don't worry; we'll keep him safe," sighed Mikleo's voice. "And if something happens while we're gone, just make as big a racket as you can, and we'll come straight back. Or you can come find us, I guess," he added. "It's not like we know the territory well enough to stray too far."

Alisha had nothing to say to this, only stared at the ground, and Rose exhanged a glance with Dezel—made more satisfying by his newly restored sight. "See you in a little while," smiled Sorey, and turned away.


They sat quietly, as seemed to be usual nowadays, for an unbearably long time. Alisha took to studying the Celestial Record at first, while Dezel lay back to stare at the cavern ceiling. Rose, however, remained motionless as she gazed down at him, lost in thoughts of… her family. It had been a long time since she'd allowed herself the mental space to think about them, because she knew no good could come of speculation. Were they doing all right…?

A movement in Rose's peripheral vision startled her: how long had it been since they'd all sat down? Half an hour? Alisha had taken up her spear with the intent of polishing it, but hesitated and glanced between Rose and Dezel. She'd been among the first to notice the wild variability of their interactions, from closer-than-friends to the silent treatment. "I'll be back in a moment," murmured Alisha, bowing slightly, and took her spear and rags outside.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked Rose, taking advantage of the opportunity she'd given as soon as she left, and Dezel glanced over at her—ashen light reflected in green glassy eyes. "You've been acting kinda… weird, lately," she added. "Distant. You know I'm here for you, so if you want to talk…"

She trailed off, inviting him to continue, but Dezel only looked away self-consciously. "That's pretty sweet of you, considering, but there's honestly not much you can do," he told her, his voice edged with a sigh, and the word 'sweet' on his lips sent a shiver up and down Rose's spine (even mitigated by 'considering'). "I'm just getting used to being me again. And seeing. And having a functional domain for once," he explained. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm going to worry about it, and you can't stop me," Rose told him, scrutinizing his expression. "I'm your vessel. It's my job to worry." Something was distinctly amiss, but she couldn't put her finger on it; he'd become much better at veiling his emotions lately. Come to think of it, maybe that was the problem…

"It's nothing," responded Dezel shortly, and Rose recognized her defeat as he shut down completely and turned away from her. "I'm just thinking, that's all."

"Seems all you've been doing is thinking lately," responded Rose, emphasizing the keyword as delicately as possible to make clear her disbelief, but realized an instant later she had come across accusatory instead. "Must be something important, then. I won't ask," she added more gently, taking up her whetstone, "but I wish you'd think a little less."

"Believe me, I wish I could think a little less," muttered Dezel darkly, and Rose opened her mouth to say the same of herself… but Alisha's voice interrupted her from outside, calling Sorey's name in clear relief. Rose barely looked up from her sharpening at first, reflecting on how why her fellow Shepherd had returned so soon—but froze at the response.

"Guess again," laughed an all too familiar voice, slightly distorted, and Rose's heart almost stopped at the sound. Not Sorey. Far from Sorey. As she peered outside, an illusion of the Shepherd unraveled like threads under her careful gaze, revealing a lanky body and foxlike face she thought she'd never see again. Those sharp features, that bushy hair… it couldn't be…

"Oh, sweet Squire," crooned Lunarre, reaching out and brushing Alisha's cheek softly, and Rose jolted to action at his subtle threat and sprang to her feet: Dezel narrowed his eyes and followed suit, preparing his pendulums for battle. "How soft you are; how tender."

"L-Lunarre?" gasped Alisha, backing away as swiftly as she had approached, and bent to reach for her spear. "But you look like—" she began, but cut herself off, shaking her head in agitation. "Why are… you… here?" she stammered lamely.

"Believe me, darling, I wish I wasn't," giggled Lunarre somewhat nervously, sauntering forward. "It's just that your friends stole something of mine, and I want it back." Though he was most likely talking about the ring, something in his voice told Rose he was referring just as much to her, and she shuddered convulsively at the thought.

"Go on, strike me down," added Lunarre—but Alisha hesitated, shifting her grip, breathing more deeply… steeling herself, thought Rose, for something that should not be unpleasant. He must not have reassumed his usual form in her eyes if she couldn't bring herself to hurt him, she thought: sure enough, when she focused, she found him eerily clad in Sorey's translucent form. (How could it be so much easier to see the truth than the illusion…?)

"Just as I thought," snickered Lunarre, taking a couple steps forward—as deliberate as any dancer. "I've never met a more pitiful excuse for a princess in my life. You already murdered your master, didn't you?" he sneered. "A murderer shouldn't have anything against killing me too."

Alisha's breath caught, and she hefted her spear in a warning not to come any closer, but could say nothing. "You have no right to call yourself a knight," snarled Lunarre, his smile gone. "You're so afraid to get blood on those crisp white gloves that you put your so-called friends in danger while you waste time wondering whether you're right. On the battlefield, there is no right or wrong," he added. "There's only dead or alive. Which will you be?"

"I'll be alive!" exclaimed Alisha.

"Then prove it," hissed Lunarre, and lunged for her with grasping hands. Rose sprinted at him in the same instant, Dezel behind her with his winds at her back, and shielded Alisha at the last second—knocking his arm out of the way, slashing at his throat and missing by an inch.

Lunarre leapt back almost lazily and laughed, flames sputtering to life in both palms. "There you are, boss," he told her gleefully, apparently excited to see her. "I figured you'd come out to play eventually."

"I just can't let Alisha get all the glory," snapped Rose, rolling her knives in her hands. "This is as much my fight as hers. After all, I killed you," she added, stabbing with both blades, but Lunarre swerved out of the way. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"Yeah, well, I've never been the best at doing what I'm supposed to do, boss," growled Lunarre, all traces of mirth vanishing from his cold golden gaze, and his fire flickered brighter as if to compensate. "Or so you always told me."

"I don't know how you survived, but that ends now," hissed Rose. "Alisha!" The princess nodded once and charged into the pelting rain in search of Sorey—spear at the ready in case of further trouble.

Dezel, meanwhile, circled around behind Lunarre, flicking out a pendulum to wrap around his wrist as he turned in the beginnings of giving chase. "Oh no you don't," he grunted, yanking him off-balance… but Lunarre barely staggered, tugging at the wire to pull Dezel forward before he could retract it. Rose thrust forward and aside, allowing her aggressive energy to jut up from the ground in spikes of ice like dragons' fangs, forcing Lunarre to let go.

"Nice," grinned Lunarre appreciatively, flipping backward with disturbing ease as Dezel regained his footing. "Now it's my turn!" he called from midair, shrieking in laughter, and pounded both his fists into the ground to create an explosion: the world slowed down, and Rose backstepped several times in quick succession as the radius rapidly increased.

"Why are you here?" demanded Dezel through clenched teeth, skirting around the blast and engaging Lunarre in closer combat: Rose rushed to his aid, rising into the air and filling every opening with illusory knives. Lunarre dodged every one with ease, perpetually on the move—forcing Dezel to readjust his aim constantly, using their tactics against one another.

"I told the princess already; weren't you listening?" returned their adversary, grinning lopsidedly, and slashed at Dezel with fiery claws. (Was it just Rose, or had he become more animal since the last time she saw him?) "I just needed to see the boss again. I'm sure you know the feeling!"

"Shut up!" shot back Dezel, dodging a burst of fire accompanying the emphasized word.

"Has anyone ever told you your comebacks are weak?" snickered Lunarre, dodging out of the way of pendulum and knife, lightning and gale. Yes, he had definitely become stronger since the last time Rose had seen him, able to dodge most moves with relative ease. In fact, Lunarre scarcely seemed to tire at all over the next several minutes, his movements unpredictable and his attacks infrequent.

Rose understood his strategy well enough to know that combining forces and letting him make the first moves was the best way to find the right moment and turn the tables, but Dezel insisted on keeping himself separate from her and unleashing a constant barrage of spells and pendulums instead. Having fought Lunarre multiple times before, he should have known better by now, but Rose couldn't correct him if he refused to say her name; she had little choice but to cover him every time.

Before long, she found herself as frustrated and exhausted as her seraph; even if they couldn't be said to be losing since Lunarre seemed so wholly uninvested in attacking, this battle was going nowhere. "Where the hell is Alisha?" exclaimed Dezel eventually, pendulums whipping viciously in a wind of his own making: one of the heads severed a few strands of Lunarre's hair, but otherwise, they made no contact. "She should be back by now!"

"I don't know!" panted Rose, pushing herself back to her feet after barely sticking the landing of a phoenix dive. "I'd look for her, but I'm a little busy at the mo—!" She staggered, her breath vanishing, and only after she doubled over did she register the fiery fist in her diaphragm.

"That's enough of that," growled Lunarre, his flames fading, but Rose barely heard him. He definitely hadn't been there a split second ago; had he always been able to move that fast? Had he been toying with them this whole time, looking for a specific opportunity, or…?

"Rose!" roared Dezel, racing forward, but Lunarre pulled her back roughly against his body, holding her hostage—forcing her knives out of each hand in turn, and pushing one of her arms up behind her back. Rose could not gasp as he played with her other fingers, but shivered all the same, until she realized he was feeling for…

Lunarre twisted the ring on her finger, and she found herself focusing intently on a desperate attempt to draw from its strength—ignoring Dezel's true name in her mind, a silent and impossible urge for her to armatize. Even had Rose had the breath to call his name, the ring demanded her complete attention; he had started pulling it off, slowly, teasingly…

Just as it reached the pad of her finger, the ring heated and sparked, but the usual burst of power produced—no effect. Rose frowned as the sensation ebbed away again, along with most of her strength; it felt distinctly as though she had pushed through something, but what? She could tell Lunarre must have felt it too, because he hesitated… and that was his fatal mistake.

No sooner did Rose realize that she had started breathing again did another, more insistent impulse cross her mind, and she gave voice to her seraph's name half-consciously: "Lukeim Yurlin!" exclaimed Rose and Dezel together, and he finally flowed into her.

Armatizing was like an embrace, this time, as though they had been reunited after years of separation. Their souls intertwined, their hearts combined, and Dezel's life force replenished and balanced Rose's energy. He bent to her will (sheepishly, she thought) as she urged him wordlessly to wait—to dash forward or flip back—to lead Lunarre in the dance he sought, a storm of wind and fire, as the battle began in earnest.

To bring a seraph's power into a human body was to become timeless, thought Rose, as the fight settled into a rhythm, every sensation blurring together: the pulse of an explosion, the breath of a gale, the jolt of evasion, the tang of… blood. At last, their rain of shining blades hit their mark, piercing his foot, his arm, his shoulder. Lunarre reeled from the impact, even as they dissolved into particles of light, howling through grit teeth, and then—silence.

…A spear. The blade had been buried so forcefully in his chest that he had been run almost completely through. Lunarre gave a ragged gasp of shock and pain, coughed red, grasped at the spear lodged in his chest to no avail; Rose followed the blade to the shaft, and the shaft to its wielder, and found Alisha.

"That's for the roses," she snarled, and pulled her blade from his body: he collapsed, chest heaving, lifeblood pouring from his chest. She felt Dezel's realization that Sorey had returned as well, and was staring from some distance away; they must have returned so short a time ago that there had been no time to register their arrival. "You two do the rest," added Alisha, eyes blazing, but there was something fearful behind the veil. "I think… I'm going to be sick."

Even as she spoke, she clutched her stomach and strode stiffly away. Rose and Dezel separated to exchange a glance as they flanked Lunarre, and Sorey laid his hand on the hilt of his sword in her peripheral vision as if in response to some threat, but stood down as they both shook their heads. Lunarre was… dying, and this time, Rose knew it in her soul.

Her eyes burned as he smiled the ghost of his old smile. "Not again," murmured Lunarre hoarsely, his voice cruel and affectionate, and her breath caught in recognition of the phrase. Those had been the first words he'd ever said to Rose, as she knelt over him after beating him up for the second time, just like this—

Their eyes locked. His slit pupils were like the dark hands of a stopped clock… but even as she watched, they seemed to fly back through their history, his life flashing through her eyes as well as his. Time collapsed into a single instant, and she bowed her head, closing her eyes briefly. Here was Lunarre the renegade, Lunarre the exile, Lunarre the lonely.

How about it? asked his voice from long ago, accompanied by an arrogant grin as he rested a foot on their target's body. He'd stalked them for months; it was only a matter of time before he caught on—so they'd had little choice but to include him in the Scattered Bones, and pray they could correct his wayward nature. Perhaps they should have killed him instead.

…No; they couldn't have. She still remembered Lunarre's face in the firelight, oddly innocent as he concentrated on charcoal sketches of Rose and roses, birds and bees. You give me something to live for, he'd told her once, eyes aglow, when she'd praised his work; she'd never been able to draw much, herself. I just wish I could do more. As Lunarre brandished his latest masterpiece at her, Rose had assured him that there was no need. Perhaps she shouldn't have.

More and more often, he'd brutalize his victims… and whenever the Scattered Bones had confronted him, he inevitably insisted that his targets deserved to suffer for what they'd done. And who could say whether it had been before or after this point, perhaps a year ago, that he had embraced his inner malevolence?

One way or another, one time or another, Lunarre had been corrupted—and that was really all that mattered. He'd used the skills Rose had helped teach him to further his own evil ambitions; he'd brought harm to everyone she'd ever loved; and he'd even marked an innocent with malevolent thorns. The scar on her neck ached as she pressed it, but the malevolence she felt was not her own; the final blow had not been hers to make this time, and there was no conflict remaining in her soul.

Still, she couldn't help but have regrets. If only things had gone differently, it might not have had to be like this. "May these weary bones find peaceful rest," whispered Rose—but as she and Dezel raised their hands over him to prepare the rite of purification, the world around them turned gray and lifeless, and the ring burned suddenly: she turned her head so sharply it cracked. Not her. Not now.

Symonne sashayed toward them from some distance away, shaking her head and tutting as she smacked her wand into her hand. "I expected better of you, Lunarre," she remarked, coming to a halt and gazing down at him unreadably: Sorey tensed, drawing his sword, and advanced cautiously as his seraphim emerged ready for battle. "But then again, I suppose you were a good plot device while you lasted. Even if you did stop reporting as planned," she added pointedly, "not to mention failing to retrieve my ring."

"Come on, you heartless bitch, let him rest in peace," flared up Rose, and Lunarre stirred faintly, brow twitching in a frown of apparent confusion: Dezel and Sorey both echoed the gesture as they stared at her. Of course Lunarre deserved every word, but it seemed needlessly cruel for them to be among the last things he heard—this coming from someone who'd twisted the knife last time she'd tried to kill him. "Butt out," she added. "Nobody asked you. This is a family matter."

"You haven't changed, I see," remarked Symonne, tilting her head expressionlessly. "All bark and no bite."

"We'll see exactly how much bite I have after I lay this bastard to rest," snapped Rose, resting her hands over Lunarre's chest and closing her eyes: reluctantly, Dezel closed his glaring eyes and focused on purifying Lunarre.

No power on this earth, Symonne's or otherwise, could stop Rose from initiating the rite of purification; without the bite mark interfering with her judgment, her old morals as leader of the Scattered Bones seemed more important than ever. No matter someone's actions in life, all deaths ought to be equal, and peaceful. Lunarre deserved no less than execution, but a purified departure meant she could lay to rest the man he once had been as well as the hellion he had become.

Sorey and the seraphim must have advanced, because Symonne's voice shifted in space as she spoke, addressing someone else: "I have no interest in fighting you right now," she sighed. "But if you're really that impatient, you won't have to wait much longer. I'll meet you at the gate to Camlann." Rose could feel her domain vanish with her last, ominous words: "Be ready."

"Oh, I am," growled Dezel furiously under his breath, assembling the power of purification in a sphere of wind; Rose could practically taste the bitter resentment in his words. The only reason he hadn't gone after her here and now was because of his duty as Prime Lord. As the ball of life-giving air seeped into Lunarre's chest through his wound, he writhed suddenly in agony, and the concentrated purity dissolved again.

"Stop fighting us," hissed Rose, digging her fingernails into Lunarre's skin—already cold, and paler even than usual—as she held him down. "Are you gonna give up and die a hellion on the say-so of someone who cares so little she'll turn up at your deathbed and call you a plot device?"

Lunarre gave a humorless and instinctive laugh, thick red trailing out the side of his mouth. "Boss, it hurts," he whined, his voice broken. "It hurts too much. I'm not st-strong enough for… th-this." He retched feebly, breaths rattling as he coughed. "I was only… supposed t-to—keep tabs," he added, struggling for air. "D-didn't think she'd… tell me to… take back the r-ring. Think she's… scared of… you…"

The last word was cut off by a shallow squealing gasp of pain as Rose and Dezel redoubled their efforts—and this time, the purification took. Lunarre gave an inhuman screech as the malevolence left his body through his mouth like smoke dissolving into light, but Rose refused to let her focus break a second time… even when he crumbled into ashes, as though he'd burned from the inside out.

"Thank… you," sighed Lunarre's voice, the last remnant of his consciousness, and his presence scattered at last. As if in a dream, Rose raised her fingers to touch the scar on her neck once more, only to find that his malevolence had all vanished, and the bite no longer pained her at all.

She wished she could say the same for her heavy heart.


Oh. My. God. I'm so sorry. I don't think I've ever let this story sit for that long before. I really, really hope it was worth it. Any explanations I offer will seem like excuses, but I still gotta explain that school started and I've been the least Zestiria-inspired person in the world lately. Anyway, fun fact: my oneshot "For the Love of Wildflowers" was actually inspired by that situation, not vice versa. And speaking of which, as has become usual, Lunarre's requiem is up on my profile.

Linake11: Eh, Dezel didn't reveal everything, but he actually did hit all the important parts.

lazycat66: Can't wait for the next chapter, huh? Hope you ended up being able to, since this came a lot later than anticipated.

Anony-Moose: Well, Dezel never really *acted* blind, so I'm not totally sure sight will fluster him too terribly much, especially since he could probably see when he was inside Rose's body. And yes, I was thinking of including Zaveid's last words in the sidequest story.

ViolettaXYZ: Heh, no need to apologize! And I believe you about suspecting the sight restoration sooner, so no worries, haha.

NaotoShirogane: You have just described my feelings towards this entire story.

Guest: If you're telling me about the development team's shipping preferences fifteen chapters into an *AU fanfiction*, I don't know what to tell you.

CWolf2: Thank you! :)