Al-Cid hoped to leave again for Rozarria, but it seemed the lovely Rydia was preoccupied with other happenings. So, he made do with the mildly amusing activity that was collecting gossip from the wandering nobles and dignitaries about the palace.
However, he found nothing of note aside from one aspiring young woman that made such an impression on her fellows that some imagined her to try courting his dearest friend Larsa and he couldn't have such a strong-headed soul interfering with the budding Emperor. No, he had a very particular match in mind that would not only consolidate power between their countries but would provide a complimentary personality to work with Larsa's.
Otherwise, none of the whispers he caught with his birds were relevant to him. Better to move on for now.
He took one of his assistants and passed through a small banquet where he sent her to fetch a small catch of food to keep them going for the day. Much as he wished for a break in his home country, he also needed to take advantage of his time here because he didn't come as often as would be ideal for keeping up with Larsa's political maneuvering.
How embarrassing, if Al-Cid's age already caught up with him, if he struggled to keep pace with a child.
Mreya brought him a kebob of roasted meat and Al-Cid took a bite before they left to check the ambassadors' quarters on the twelfth floor. Such people were more guarded with their words, but Al-Cid could at least gauge their opinions of Rozarria and use that as a base to update some of his projections elsewhere.
"Let's wait on word from Dalmasca," Al-Cid said to Mreya. "I won't act on rumors, even if they involve a nameless noble."
Mreya bowed her head in agreement.
"You know, dear, at times I worry what goes through your head. But alas—your lack of words is precisely what makes you so valuable."
She shot him a disgruntled look and he shook his head.
"You are quite right. I forget my manners when I've been too long in one place and you don't deserve such rudeness."
She pulled a biscuit from her purse and popped it in her mouth.
Al-Cid wondered at her discretion before a large-haired boy and a girl in vibrant dress stopped in their path, neither wearing attire to mark their presence as proper in this place. Ragged edges and disgraceful combinations of hard cloth marked foreign origin, and their faces were sullied with dirt and unkempt hair.
"Found him!" shouted the dark boy.
The fair girl exclaimed with surprise and pulled a dagger from her waist. "Took long enough!"
Al-Cid quirked an eyebrow to Mreya, who pulled her own blade, this one longer and more elegant than the girl's primitive accessory.
He felt at the gun kept on his belt, but these were only children, so—
The boy gestured with an arm and something changed in the air.
The girl charged and Mreya engaged her with a knife. Despite the age, there was a certain demeanor to the two that bespoke… more.
His throat swelled and Al-Cid gripped his gun. The telling sting of poison in his lungs—the child drew on green magic, then.
Al-Cid left his gun. He would handle these miscreants without harming them.
The boy swirled his arms in the air—the mark of an amateur magic user, despite the power inherent in such a deadly hit—and Al-Cid hurtled forward and kicked out the boy's legs before he could react.
Al-Cid then picked him up with one arm and used his free hand to pop open a remedy and chug it in the seconds it took for the boy to react and try to pry himself free of Al-Cid's grip.
Throat recovered, Al-Cid wrenched the boy's arms out and anchored them to his sides before pausing to see Mreya incapacitate the girl with a knee to the stomach.
The girl lost her breath and Mreya picked her up before turning to Al-Cid with a nod. Signed, "Something wrong."
"That much is clear." Al-Cid turned to look about them. "The question is, who should we report such an incident to?"
"Oops," the boy muttered. "I didn't mean to hit the wall. Come on…"
Al-Cid looked behind him and found vines sprouting out from behind a painting of the Ozmone Plains. "What in the name of…?"
"Ah ha!" The boy wriggled in Al-Cid's grip before the floor shifted beneath their feet and Al-Cid tumbled through air. Hit the ground and looked up to see a hole in the level above.
With a groan, Al-Cid hefted himself back to his feet and shut one eye against the pain in his arm and back that resulted from the fall.
The boy looked out from his hole above and called, "Sorry about that! I think we're supposed to keep it as quick a death as possible!"
"And from whom does this order originate?" Al-Cid called back. "If I am to be killed, then I should like to know my death's commissioner!"
"I don't think I'm supposed to tell you." The boy shifted and a vine sprouted from the foliage growing upstairs—Larsa's staff would not appreciate the work cut out for them by this one incident. "Could you come a little closer so I can stab this through your heart?"
Al-Cid bit back a curse—Mreya was still up there. The stairs were a good distance away, but he made for those given that the hole was a bit far to reach by himself. He also pulled out his gun because he needed something to combat the plants that the kid summoned.
When he found his way back to the scene, Mreya looked worse for wear, but still held her own against the girl that showed far too enhanced agility for her size.
Another sting of poison hit him, this time causing a maddening itch near the neck. "You make yourself difficult," he muttered before shooting out a moving vine on the wall and whipping out another remedy that he downed. He only had so many of those.
The boy yelped and stumbled back. "Ugh, it's like Daddy's guns!"
Al-Cid tore another moving plant from nearby and snapped it in half before approaching the boy.
Something wrapped around his leg and yanked him to the ground.
Al-Cid cursed himself—he collected information and networked spies; he wasn't supposed to handle menaces like these two!
He pulled out a knife and sliced himself free before another vine took him and thorns dug into his skin.
Footsteps pounded and Judge Zargabaath charged in with weapon drawn. That distracted both children long enough for Al-Cid to struggle free of his bonds and get to Mreya, who straightened at his approach.
Zargabaath swatted the girl to the side and she hit the wall hard enough to make it crack.
The boy readied another spell, but wind gusted in from the other end of the hallway and knocked him over.
"We'll help!" called a woman's voice.
Al-Cid supported Mreya and steadied her on her feet while a man in purple clothes and woman with green-tinted hair rushed in and supported Zargabaath. "You know these two?" Al-Cid asked.
"Not as of yet," said Zargabaath, voice muffled by his helmet.
"Not fair!" cried the boy, whilst he struggled to keep the new woman at bay with blasts of more plant and poisonous energy. "That makes five against two!"
The girl screamed and rushed the purple man with her knife out, only to get assaulted by the Judge Magister behind her.
Al-Cid took his chance to move himself and Mreya off to the side. She signed, "Girl impossibly strong. Unknown power working."
"Same for him." Al-Cid pulled a disinfectant from his pocket and ripped fabric from his sleeve to serve as a bandage. "It appears we've wandered into something beyond our realm of relevance."
… "How?"
"Who am I to question the good lady fate? We encounter trouble everywhere, my dear, so it is only expected that we bear the brunt end of it at times."
"You hurt."
"As are you, yet you don't hear me complaining. Where's one of your knives?"
She looked to the torn ground that served as the main site for the clash of magicians and Magister. A handful of blades lay discarded there and Mreya sighed before pulling a new one from under her dress.
Al-Cid sanitized the only cut he saw on her, a long slice below the collar bone, and hesitated with the haphazard bandage he held ready. "There is no easy way to apply this there. If I could but wrap it under the shoulder, but I would need more fabric."
She rolled her eyes and tore a length from the hem of her dress and slipped it underneath the collar.
"But your dignity, my lady…"
She signed, "Dignity or life? Purpose is latter."
"A valid point." He took out two potions and handed her one while he drank the other. His throat hurt from all the healatives, but he wasn't going to run to a hospital with such trouble about. This at least restored his strength, even if he still bled.
He took his gun and aimed but couldn't get a clean shot with all the commotion.
The purple man tumbled to the ground and his lady friend took up defense before Zargabaath knocked the little girl unconscious and moved on to the boy.
What was Al-Cid next to a Judge Magister? He felt a fool for even raising his weapon.
They took down the boy next and Zargabaath took the girl in his gauntleted hands while the lady took the boy again.
"Is okay?" signed Mreya with a gesture to the purple man.
Al-Cid shook his head and approached him.
"Desch?" said the lady. With arms full, she didn't kneel to his side.
Al-Cid paused by him and noted a gaping, bleeding hole in the man's side that slowly knitted itself back together. "What magic is this?" Al-Cid asked.
"Desch is an Ancient," said the lady. "He doesn't die as easily as the rest."
"From whence do you hail?" asked Zargabaath, still tense. "You both carry the scent of mist heavy on your persons."
"Oh." The lady cleared her throat and adjusted her grip on the boy. "Well, we're not from your world, to be honest. But we only came to collect these two because there's a dozen others like them wreaking havoc across worlds."
"One story I'm sure we will make time for," said Al-Cid, standing despite the pain from his punctured skin. "I've heard similar tales, after all, and would appreciate enlightenment."
"As would we all." Another voice, deeper than Zargabaath's, joined them and Al-Cid turned to see Judge Gabranth approach. "The ruckus caused here has placed the entire palace on high alert. Your Honor's observations, please."
"Two possessed by what appears to be mist," said the other Judge. "They assaulted the Rozarrian prince and drew in two travelers from outside our world."
"Have they?" Gabranth looked about them and Al-Cid still found his mannerisms odd after the war. Not that he knew the man well beforehand, but he carried himself just a hint different and it was enough for Al-Cid to consider what might have happened.
Too bad none of his birds found the cause for such a change.
The lady gestured, and white light engulfed Desch. He stirred, flesh now only an angry red where he was cut through, and he hauled himself into a sitting position. "Ugh, what did I miss?"
Gabranth said, "This is no infection of mist, but of corrupted power of a different source. Come, we must clear this space."
"Wait." The lady stepped forward. "You know this power; I can feel it. I need to extract it from you and anyone else you think might have come into contact with Bhunivelze's influence."
Gabranth paused and looked her way. With the helmet in place, Al-Cid couldn't see how the Judge reacted. "… Follow me," Gabranth said.
The lady blinked and did as told. Desch went behind her and Zargabaath gestured for Al-Cid and Mreya to follow suit.
They made their way up stairs and elevators until they reached one of the highest floors in the palace. From here, windows showed the city of Archades as but a child's model in its distance. Only the closest buildings still looked a normal size.
When they stepped into Larsa's office, the boy looked up with eyes unclouded by exhaustion, unlike the last time that Al-Cid saw him. Though his skin also looked sallower. Larsa said, "Such a group explains much. Al-Cid, were you harmed?"
Al-Cid looked to his ruined shirt. "Only somewhat, Your Imperial Excellency."
"Please, no formalities." Larsa slipped out from behind his desk. "Who make the invaders?"
Zargabaath set down the girl on a chair and the new lady did the same with the boy. Larsa came up to both and lit them up with the soft, white magic of sleep whilst whispering a ritualistic lullaby.
"If I may," said the lady, "My name is Terra Branford and I've come to collect what remains of Bhunivelze's shards on this world."
Larsa didn't look her way. "Shards or influence?"
"I cannot remove influence." Terra looked about them, lips pursed. "I would need to know you to do that. But as a half-esper, I can hold onto shards without it damaging me or those about me."
"Esper," Zargabaath said. "An outlandish claim and not one to excuse your sudden appearance."
Larsa said, "Excuse our suspicion. We've had unfriendly encounters with one too many well-meaning guests. How can I trust I'm not giving power to one of his pawns?"
"I—" Terra glanced to Desch, who frowned. "I probably would have tried to hurt you already, if that was the case. I believe that was the goal of Dajh and Krile—" she gestured to the two sleeping children— "to kill the Rozarrian prince and blame it on Archadia. But I won't do that."
"Kind of a risky move bringing us here in the first place," said Desch. "I'm inclined to think you believe us."
Larsa straightened his back and it struck Al-Cid that it took what looked like a conscious effort. "Words alone cannot set me at ease."
Terra hesitated. "It would be a lot easier if he still left marks on his victims."
"He used to." Larsa gestured to his collar. "Has that changed?"
"Well, yes. Once he stabilized in the form of his chosen vessel, he… that's unrelated."
"Allow me to interrupt," Al-Cid said with a step forward. "Your Honor, Judge Gabranth, noted this energy you speak, did he not? He mentioned the children bearing it, but if he feels such, then he should know that this Terra and Desch do not. What is it he feels now?"
Gabranth didn't react and Larsa cast the man an expectant look. "You carried him longer than me," Larsa said. "You would know better than I how to see the infection."
"If you ask for my advice, Excellency, then I cannot offer it at this time. They carry a similar presence, too close to what we found in Balthier and Baralai to dismiss so easily."
"Aw, come on," Desch said. "Our winning smiles aren't enough to convince you?"
Al-Cid said, "Perhaps we might observe them for a time? Would this Bhunivelze's pawns have enough patience for that?"
"Possibly," Terra said. "Depending on agendas, of course."
"Then we stand at an impasse," Zargabaath said.
"And at an impasse we'll remain," Larsa said, "until we can determine your loyalties."
Ugly silence slipped over the room and Al-Cid watched Terra furrow her brow and work her mouth. So many thoughts in that head that he wished for time to decipher, she reminded him of Rydia. She spoke further with Larsa, but it went nowhere.
"If I may," Al-Cid said. The others turned to him and he continued, "These two dress differently, do they not?"
"What difference would their dress make?" Zargabaath asked.
Desch studied the sleeping children. "They're looking worse for wear, I guess. What, is that enough?"
"Anyone can imitate different dress," Larsa said.
"What of the squares on their clothes?" Al-Cid asked. "They stand out as clean and distinct despite the wretched nature of their cloth."
Larsa stood. "Nevertheless. I'll send you away until we can determine with certainty that you're on our side."
"We can't wait forever," Desch said.
"Then you must prioritize between these shards and your other work. If you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."
Terra frowned at that and Desch guided her toward the door. Al-Cid and Mreya joined them outside while Zargabaath and Gabranth handled their unconscious visitors.
Al-Cid asked of Desch, "Is this all you do in your travels? Collect these shards?"
"Not only," Desch said. "… At least, we have other plans. But this is our first stop, so I'll have to get back to you once we've seen another few worlds. Who's your lady friend? Are you together?"
"Were I so lucky. But my assistant knows better than to mix business with pleasure."
Desch glanced her way. "What do you say, miss? Are you single?"
She signed, "Attractive, yes, but green is strange hair."
"… What does that mean?" Desch looked at Al-Cid. "She can't talk?"
He shook his head. "Not in the way that most of us do."
Desch looked back to Mreya. "Could you repeat that?"
She signed slower, "Green is strange."
"What's that first word? Can you point it out?"
She hesitated, then gestured at his hair.
"What is the point of learning," said Al-Cid, "if you're about to leave our world anyway?"
Desch didn't respond, instead focused on deciphering Mreya's words the hard way. Al-Cid sighed to himself. The lady was a good sport about it, but he wondered if it would leave her irritable later.
"I would like to speak with the espers," Terra said. "I heard you have them on this world."
"It is not my right to deny or grant you privilege to speak with the espers," Al-Cid said, "though I must warn that it is no small task. They do not make it easy to find and communicate with them."
"Where can I start?"
Al-Cid turned to Mreya. She paused in her careful gesturing to sign, "Rydia?"
"She will leave for her own path soon and likely would prefer not to be distracted by these ones. I must say that I cannot leave early enough for home."
"Nor I. Desch not long here, unlike Terra."
"We are in agreement, then." Al-Cid guided their small part toward the elevator. "Humblest apologies, Milady Terra, but it appears it's time I made my exit. I'll leave a message with my friend Rydia and the two of you can explore this world to your hearts' content. Take this paper with you and Rydia will know what you're about, I think."
Irvine volunteered to wait in the library while Cater and Quistis made for the top floor of the school.
Once they reached said floor, Cater shoved past protesting officers to find the room belonging to the headmaster and someone complained about all the visitors lately. It took a quick scan to realize the place was empty.
"Where's the headmaster?" Quistis asked a member of security.
"He left after speaking with you," said one lady. "We thought you might know."
"Wonderful," Cater said. "Dude up and left?"
"I'm sure he'll be back soon," said another.
"I don't know about that." Quistis pressed a finger to her forehead. "Didn't sound like he was up for a quick lunch when we talked."
Cater thought of all the possible places Irvine might know of that Martine could disappear to, but the two weren't close enough for her to summon a clear image. She'd have to find someone with a closer tie to the dude.
A presence crackled in over the link and Cater felt one… two… a dozen people stumble in from the Crux.
"Never mind!" She grabbed Quistis. "Y'all do what you do best, and we'll get out of your way!"
Someone asked, "What are you—?"
"Pardon our intrusion!" Cater dragged Quistis out the door despite her protests. "Forget that any of this happened, okay?"
"Cater, I don't—"
"We just gotta get out of this place real fast, okay?"
"Get out of the office or the Garden?"
"Shh!" Cater pulled her all the way to the elevator and finally released her inside. As they descended to the floor where they left Irvine, she explained. "I've got friends that just popped in. Now, I don't know how in the loop they are about this because I haven't spoken with them in forever, but I doubt they'll understand the delicacy we need right now in fulfilling our mission."
"They just showed up?"
"Yeah. Got a message over the link that they're spilled out of the… Well, I guess it'll just be easier if you talk to them yourself."
Quistis let out a heavy breath and righted herself. "I'll take your word for it."
They arrived on Irvine's floor and it took a few minutes of searching to find the man engrossed in some catalog for students' firearms. He didn't look up when they first arrived, but Quistis got his attention and he shoved the book away.
"Where to?" Quistis asked.
"Good question." Cater looked around them. "I bet they'll let us know where they are soon enough."
Quistis said, "We're not going to just wait here."
"I didn't think so." Cater put a hand out to Irvine. "Your gun, please."
Irvine furrowed his brow. "They took it."
"They what?"
"That rifle fired the bullet that killed Noel. The school has it in their custody."
Cater swore. "I could have used that thing to see the guy that did it."
"And that'll help you find your friends, how?"
"That way we'd both be chasing the same target."
"Again, how…?"
"I know it's stupid," Cater muttered, "but it was worth a shot."
"If you knew they were on their way," Quistis said, "then surely you would know where they are? Unless you used a phone like us mortals?"
Cater paused. "Oh. Good point." She couldn't talk to Queen anymore, but maybe…
Nope. Couldn't talk to anyone else, either. But she did feel that same connection that sparked the thought of "landed."
"Guess it's time for a pivot search." Cater strolled toward the door. "Cover me, will you?"
Deuce and her companions emerged from the Historia Crux in a shower of time particles that warped back into the twixt the moment their feet touched ground.
The question was whose ground this was?
A towering structure stood before them, but no labels decorated its doors and no flowery entrance awaited them. And yet there appeared a regality to it that appeared like that of Balamb when they showed there. Another garden?
"Wonderful," Lightning said. "Looks like we've landed in a regular Cocoon."
"Not Cocoon," Serah said. "I think it's closer to Academia in its earlier days."
"Cocoon had earlier days, too."
"Oh. I guess you're right."
"Doesn't matter what it looks like," Seven said. "What matters is where and when we are."
"Is it the same place as before, kupo?"
Eight shook his head. "There's something different to this one. It feels closer to home."
"I don't know what you consider home," Sice said, "but this feels nothing like it."
Snow strode forward. "Only one way to find out!"
Deuce watched them go, the sisters following after Snow with Cinque and Mog trailing behind. "Fang," she said, "how does this compare with the other versions of Gaia VIII?"
Fang cast her a sour look. "Why ask me?"
"I value your opinion."
"Oh, cut it out. Fine, it seems like the real deal to me."
Sice cast her a surprised look. "How would you know?"
"Eight had a point about the feeling of it. The alternate timelines, they rubbed me wrong, you know?"
"It fits better here," Eight said. "For lack of a better term."
Deuce smiled to herself, satisfied. "We're in agreement, then."
"Whoa, slow down," Sice said. "We can't just decide that we're in the right place because we want to!"
"I know I'm not anxious to jump back into that twisting vortex of metal," Fang said. "Why not consider us lucky for now?"
"We're not lucky," Seven said. "Not until I have Bhunivelze's head on my chain."
"This is one step closer to that," Fang said. "For now, we move forward."
They followed Snow's party toward the school and Deuce tried to remember where they felt Cater's signal. If this was the right point in time and space, they should have landed close by. If not, they should know by the end of the day, at least.
"All a bunch of guesswork, isn't it?" Fang said. "We land in a spot close to her, only to find she's not there. How elusive could your friend be? Are you sure she's not dead?"
"We don't die," Deuce said. "Not really."
"She'd respawn in Valhalla," Sice said.
Fang frowned. "And will that happen to any of us now?"
"Maybe," Deuce said. "But… I don't understand your powers quite yet. You might need more of Bhunivelze's shards, first."
"Good luck with that," Seven muttered.
Mog flitted their way. "We're in Galbadia this time, kupo!"
Sice said, "As opposed to…?"
"Balamb! That's where we were before, kupo!"
"I think Balamb is closer to her signal," Eight said. "Odd."
"I'm not going into the Crux again!" Sice said. "If you all leave, I'll wait here."
"Let's give it a look first," Snow said. He stood before the school, hands on his hips. "These doors are locked, though. We're gonna have to circle around."
Seven groaned and shoved forward. "Let me see that."
Lightning stared at Seven with an incredulous look on her face while Serah smoothed out the folds of her dress. They reacted to Seven like differing painters to each other's techniques and that didn't change even after however long they spent in the Crux so far.
"Got it." Seven pushed the door open and the others followed her into narrow hallways.
"I'm sure there was an open door somewhere," Cinque said. "Now we have to go find the main room the hard way!"
"This doesn't look so bad," Sice said. "I saw a lot worse on Orience."
"I don't know about that," Eight said.
Snow punched his fist into his palm. "The sooner we figure this place out, the sooner we find out target. Let's get it done!"
Mog flitted forward and glanced around corners before disappearing behind one. Deuce wondered at his speed.
After some searching by Mog and space calculations from Eight, they found a door leading out into a large hall full of uniformed students milling about.
"There you are!" Cater called from a walkway overlooking the hall. "Geez, I've been waiting forever!"
Deuce felt a flutter of relief in her chest but couldn't say anything before Cinque bolted up the stairs and took Cater in a hug.
"That's her?" Lightning asked.
Deuce nodded.
"Boy, do I have a lot to tell you!" Cater dragged Cinque down the stairs. "For one, this place is all twisted by paradox energy!"
"We got that," Seven said.
"Also…" Cater grew solemn. "Noel's dead."
Serah turned stiff. "What?"
"You heard her," Lightning said. "We've lost Noel."
"When?" Snow asked. "How?"
"Someone shot him down here. I followed him on a temporary reassignment and as it turned out, it wasn't just a reassignment. Looks like someone's been wanting his blood for a long time."
Serah struggled to speak. "How do we bring him back?"
"I don't think we can," Sice said. "There was a reason we worked to keep you all alive. Dead people don't make good gods."
"Worry about that later," Fang said. "We'll take time to mourn after we figure out how to get this planet resolved, yeah?"
"Right." Lightning gestured. "Gotta find a way off if nothing else. Cater, you learn anything about this place?"
Mog said, "She's right about the energy, kupo. We're saturated in it!"
"Also worth noting," Cater said, "is that Noel's memory didn't come back like Queen said it should. His memory of the right timeline came out all wonky and he got a lot of information about stuff that never happened. Paradox branches, I think."
Cinque furrowed her brow. "I thought those were a myth?"
"Not a myth," Eight said. "Just unlikely to interact with our work. Noel might not be so lucky."
"Paradox branches?" Serah asked. "Like alternate versions of reality?"
"Kupo."
Cater said, "He remembered a bunch of conflicting happenings, like inheriting Etro's heart, staying in Academia, and reuniting Fang and Vanille."
"Wait," Fang said. "Wait, wait, wait. That rings a bell. I thought I remember a couple of our tribe bringing us together in time to get picked up by the vestige. What if they actually happened?"
"Impossible," Cater said. "He doesn't have Etro's heart now—that died with Caius—and his time in Academia doesn't correspond with Serah's timeline."
"Maybe some things happened, and some didn't?" Serah said. "I mean, we see time as a straight line of event to event, but it blurs at the edges and some things intermingle where they shouldn't. And given we erased Noel's origin point, it wouldn't be a leap to assume his connection to our timeline is unstable."
Fang raised an eyebrow. "And when did you pick all that up?"
Serah flushed. "Well, after traveling as much as we did, a lot of it sunk in over… time."
"And you were always the attentive one," Lightning said. "Okay. So, Noel's got a complicated relationship with this timeline. Did that cause the problems on this world or did the world add to his problems?"
"Sounds like the former," Eight said.
Deuce put a hand on Serah's shoulder. "You were a teacher?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"Probably not." Deuce gave her a reassuring smile. "Your hand motions just reminded me of someone."
"What hand motions?"
"Everyone, stop!" Seven threw her hands out and students startled about them. "We've got possessees here!"
Deuce reached for her flute. "Where?"
"Feels like the same building." Seven showed fury in the lines of her face. "Above us."
Snow bolted. "Then let's find some stairs!"
Hours passed since the screaming quieted. Maqui checked his watch, though the thing became useless after jumping through so many eras and planets. "Can we let her out, now?"
Amarant opened the door and Maqui steeled himself. But the lady didn't come out kicking or screaming. Instead, the body of Ellone laid still in the closet, torn cloth scattered about her like plucked feathers. Her fingers were bloodied and her cheeks sunken. They'd have to salvage the body before granting it Bhunivelze's immortality.
"Still got those rations on you?" Maqui asked.
Amarant pulled a handful of berries from his pocket while Maqui popped open his water bottle. They didn't have a whole lot of use for either, but they kept them on hand in case of situations like this when vessels didn't handle their conditioning well.
"Hey," Maqui said before coaxing her out of there. "You alive in there?"
Ellone's eyes barely moved under her half-closed lids. The color of her skin looked pale, but she was alive.
Maqui started with the water, his old instincts acting over his holy ones. Bhunivelze wouldn't bother repairing the vessel if He were here, but it would take a moment for Him to come and Maqui didn't like leaving Ellone to wait any longer.
He dripped water into her mouth, and it took Ellone a few swallows to get those drops down. They'd have to take it slow. New Bodhum taught him that.
Maqui grunted at a sudden pain in his skull and dismissed the thought of his old life. There was no purpose to such memories when he had work to do.
After he got Ellone refreshed with water, he offered her some berries. She didn't spare them a glance.
"You should eat," Maqui said. "It'll make transference easier."
"It makes no difference," Amarant said.
"It does, too."
Ellone still wouldn't look at him. Maqui frowned and looked at the red berries in his hand. "Are they the wrong kind? I guess we have others, but these are the most common around here. Wish we had a buffet line around here, but this is the best we can do."
"You're wasting your time," Amarant said.
"Am not!"
Ellone blinked and Maqui felt a flare of hope.
"God does not need the body healthy."
"But he needs her alive, dammit!" Ellone twitched away from him and Maqui's heart fell. "Please eat! Arg! We should have left more cushions in there!"
Amarant grabbed Maqui's shoulder. "This is not your domain."
"I know it's not!"
"You would give up your connection to Bhunivelze."
Maqui paused. "I'm not going to fail Him."
"You will if you continue like this."
"She needs rest!"
"Why?"
"Because—!" Maqui crushed the berries in his hand. "Because she'll die if she doesn't."
God sensed the confusion and a portal opened up beside Maqui to let out the Chosen Vessel. Hope Estheim stood in checkered robes with his exposed skin showing more purple and sinew-ier than before. The Void made good on its own contract, then, and slowly claimed Hope's body for its own.
The thought made Maqui shiver. It looked so gross.
Hope kneeled and placed a hand over Ellone's forehead. The lady shifted at his touch and light glowed about them to mark Bhunivelze's claim. God kept his own.
Yet He would trade vessels away. It wasn't Maqui's to question, but could Bhunivelze really need the power of the Void? Shouldn't He be strong enough without it?
"You waver," He said.
Maqui swallowed and looked away. "She didn't seem fit to become yours, Holiness."
"I will mold her as needed."
"But I could've saved you time if—"
Bhunivelze grabbed Maqui by the throat and pinned him to the wall. "Do not trouble yourself with such trivial concerns. It is yours to do your duty and leave the rest to your brothers and sisters of the light."
Maqui choked and panic rose in his chest like butterflies. Angry butterflies. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. "I don't—"
Bhunivelze slapped a hand to Maqui's forehead and forced his eyes closed. Said nothing before pervading his head with the same power he used on Eos. The comfort of light and order and the promise of a holier tomorrow.
When Maqui found air again, God moved His attention to Ellone.
He blinked stars out of his eyes and wondered where he might have grown so distracted.
Amarant watched him with narrowed eyes, but Maqui struggled to see him through the haze.
God portaled out with Ellone in tow and something sparked nearby—the arrival of Valhallan forces.
Amarant caught on and warped out of the place. Maqui hopped after him and followed the wormhole to Martine Aquamar's office.
