Deuce found the Guild everyone talked about and drew up short at the ashy ruins that marked what remained of their Cottage. World travelers alternated between repairs, building something new, and cleaning up the torn landscape. The river flowed with a freshness to it that marked a recent rainfall and she wondered what it must have looked like days ago.

"Didn't expect you so soon," Ace said. "Didn't you have work with the Council?"

Deuce tore her eyes from the carnage. "I could say the same of your care for these people."

"Few still need bedrest. What about Noel?"

"Adjusting." Cheers as the gathered travelers lifted a beam into place for the new building. "Like you all. Why won't you come home?"

"Like you said. These people need me."

"But you have work in Valhalla, too. They're sending me back to VIII and I'm afraid I won't… see people much for a while."

Ace turned to watch the others nail beams into place. "I still believe in these guys. We might hold the power of Mwynn, but they know the worlds better than we do."

"I don't doubt it. But I can't help wondering if it's only a child's attempt by comparison. What if they're meddling beyond their scope? What if they get themselves killed?"

"That's what I'm here to prevent."

Deuce forced a smile. "I can't imagine what might have happened without you."

"Without us. Even with Trey, Nine, and Jack, we still lost. Bhunivelze's pouring more power into his pawns, and we're soon to be left in the dust if we don't get that power to the Cie instead."

"But you won't come."

"I can't come." She heard regret in his voice. "I'll rely on you to cover the other worlds while I rebuild here. We can't win without these guys, Deuce."

"We can."

"I don't believe that."

"… Then I hope you'll do your best here."

Ace smiled and that warmed her. "As long as you all follow suit."

She left him and returned to the Crux into which flowed a new, reddish energy since Mwynn left them her power. The golden checkers of Bhunivelze's influence still swirled in the distance as a foreboding reminder of their race to beat him to his own throne.

Deuce left the currents of time, though not without a little reluctance. Its churning waters provided a stasis in which she forgot about her duties here in Valhalla. But leave she did.

Noel met her at the Palace entrance. "You all right?"

"Yes."

"Then what's with the long face? Noel tossed her a hologram of Gaia VIII. "Maybe a bit of work will help. We've got to leave for this one soon as you're ready."

Deuce floated the image of Gaia VIII. She didn't expect to go back so soon, especially given what happened on III. Noel left her with a kind word.

"Jack," she whispered. The thought of him suffering a bout of depression didn't seem possible to her, so she went and found him in an isolated room on the fourth floor.

There were no windows here, but light emitted from a fixture in the ceiling to illuminate a mural that circled around the walls. Jack sat in the center and stared at the illustration like it held an encrypted message to decode.

The figure of Etro held her hands out, fingers streaming with water that glimmered in golden hues. The limited palette used only muted greens and yellows, yet it offered a certain vibrancy in the composition as allowed by careful manipulation of paints.

"Etro forming the waters of time," Deuce said. "It's lovely."

"Is that what it is?" Jack asked. "Just looks to me like a woman taking a bath."

"Fang says you're upset." Deuce took a seat by him and smothered the urge to go and lie down for a bit—she never knew that becoming a goddess would still entail tiredness, especially since they didn't need sleep. "Is this about Blue Terra?"

"It's not a big deal."

"Isn't it?"

"Well, I guess it's more of a small deal. Like, it's still important, but it doesn't affect anyone. You know? Only in this case, this kind of stuff affects me in a kinda biggish way. But because it affects other people."

"I don't get it."

"… I killed people, Deuce. And that doesn't sit right."

"Possessees?"

"No, Trey and Serah."

"Jack, we can't die anymore. I know they're shaken, but it's not because of you. You did the right thing in ending their pain."

"Sure doesn't feel like it."

Deuce put an arm around him. "I can't imagine they blame you. And if they do, it'll pass with time. We'll get used to this immortality just like Mother's resurrections. We hated that as children, yet I barely noticed as an adult."

"It still sucked."

"Only sometimes."

"Only most of the time." Jack leveled his eyes with her and it struck her that despite the light tone of his voice, his frown wrinkled the corners of the mouth and stretched the skin of his neck. He strained to hold back tears or rage or something else. "It's never going to stop sucking and I don't want that."

"But… you still want friends, don't you?"

"I thought we were done with war and bloodshed? I thought Mwynn allowed for us to leave that all behind?"

"It's not our job anymore, but we do have to take care of the people in this galaxy. We have more souls that rely on us for a fair and just rule, and that brings with it certain responsibilities. We've made friends, Jack, and that carries its own pain. We open ourselves up for loss and betrayal when we reach out, but we don't shut ourselves off."

"We don't kill our friends, either."

"These ones, we do. I know it doesn't make sense, but these bonds here—in Valhalla—they'll reach deeper than those we form with mortals and spirits. No one dies forever, but we—this family—is committed to work closer together than anyone else in our domain. And because of that, we will suffer hardship. And to us, killing each other is a mercy that we'll have to get used to."

Jack shoved away from her. "Then I don't want it! I don't want this immortality or this godhood or any of these things that I didn't agree to!"

"And leave the rest of us? Jack, I don't think that's how it works."

"It should be! We had no choice then, so we should have one now!"

"In a fair world, yes! But we've never lived in a fair world! We've never once had a hand in deciding our fate, so why is it any different this time?"

"Because I'm tired! And I want to stop."

"It won't always be this hard, I promise." It was more of a promise to herself than Jack, but she feigned self-assuredness. "It hurts right now, but it won't always."

"I want it to stop now."

"Then let's make it stop." She stood and offered her hand.

He stared at her a long time before he finally took her hand.

"Trey also needs a pick-me-up," Deuce said. "Will you help me with him?"

"What, are you going to drag him by his toes?"

"I was hoping you might have a better idea."

"Hey, he's not on my team."

"I think he'll listen to you better than he'll listen to me."

"And why is that? He's not talking, Deuce. I imagine he'll not like me talking when he can't."

"And I'm different?"

"Yeah, people listen to you. … But I suppose I can go poke him and see if he's willing to walk."

"They didn't tell me why he isn't talking."

"I think it has to do with that spirit destroying his voice box. Kinda like why Serah's avoiding the shore right now. Bad memories ruin everything."

Deuce thought of her last breaths on Orience. "I guess they do."

The Headmaster left again.

Maqui struggled to stay conscious. Didn't want to open his eyes and see the damage. Bhunivelze would heal it. … If Maqui were still connected.

He tested the restraints and they felt stronger than before. But he was also stronger before. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave immediately after the Headmaster finished.

The room faded in and out of view and Maqui panicked when he thought he might give in to sleep. His eyes felt heavy and each breath scraped his raw throat, but he couldn't sleep. Also, didn't feel like he could move, though the manacles rattled with each attempt.

… They were still loose. The Headmaster didn't tighten them.

He dragged one leg closer, though it caught on iron. He had to knock it out. Before…

Maqui startled awake and grit his teeth. Then contorted and pulled against his restraints. The energy inside him stuttered, unable to keep up with the damage. But it provided strength and he used it.

The first snapped, one bolt still in, and he clenched his jaw against a scream before slipping his left hand free. The next one broke off his ankle and took both screws with it. A metal piece flew off his other hand and slapped him in the face.

By the time he got his last leg free, blood dripped from his ankles and it burned like hell. He stumbled free of the surface he laid on and hit the wall before steadying himself against a table. He lost breath at the sight of his hands that showed slick and red in the dim light.

He knew shock. But he survived the Hanging Edge. He survived the Hanging Edge. The Hanging Edge was so much worse because he saw so many people die. Just because he suffered minor injuries like the others didn't mean he didn't know how to get past this.

Maqui squinted his eyes shut against the tears.

Lindzei. Oh, Lindzei, he didn't know what to do. Snow would. Gadot would. Lebreau would. But Maqui didn't.

So much blood. It got on the desk and stained his clothes. But Bhunivelze's light would heal it. It had to.

Footsteps. Maqui's heart skipped a beat and he scrambled to his feet despite the slippery ground.

The door opened and the Headmaster said, "I forgot one thing—"

Maqui jumped on him and wrapped his arms around the Headmaster's throat in a three-point choke. The man struggled beneath him and Maqui wrapped his feet around the stomach.

Martine spun and kicked the door closed before ramming backwards into it, rattling Maqui. Slammed him again. Maqui lost his grip and fought to stay up. The man showed surprising strength for his lean size.

Maqui retook his grip and squeezed in tighter but couldn't hold it for the weakness in his fingers and joints. He hardly felt a muscle in his body.

Martine swung about and threw Maqui to the ground before pulling a knife from his belt. "I thought your constitution might protect your stability, but it appears I was wrong."

Maqui reached for a gun he didn't have.

"I apologize." Martine leaned down and grabbed Maqui by the hair, forcing him closer. "I should have taken better care. But this is for the good of my school, you understand."

Maqui watched that knife move. It gleamed, edges razor-sharp, and looked almost natural in that grip.

"You're weak, now." It came out as a whisper, like the man thought out loud. He looked at Maqui with what looked like wonder in his eyes. "A pity. We could have learned so much from you."

The knife moved and Maqui twisted just in time to get around the man's arm and take the hand holding the knife. Martine struggled in his grip, but Maqui took his hand and forced the knife back into the man's chest. Then yanked it out.

Martine choked and fell back, blood bubbling at his lip.

Maqui couldn't bring himself to move, even as the Headmaster thrashed about in the gathering pool of blood. Limbs spasmed and Martine tried to move, but only slipped and flailed. Grabbed for the knife but Maqui kept it out of reach.

Maqui watched him breathe his last breath, eyes flickering between Maqui and the ceiling before stilling half-closed. Like Noel's did.

Maqui dropped the knife, horror dawning like a rock that dropped in his stomach. Humans weren't supposed to be that still.

His nose stung and he choked out silent sobs before the tears came and he bent over Martine's body to cry.