Purgatio

by Marcus1

Email sponger42yahoo.com for Location of Most Recently Updated Purgatio Website

12. Metuo

Chapter 12:

Metuo

The florescent lighting overhead flickered as power surged through the damaged electrical conduits of the garden. A single clawed hand rested on the smooth cool desk. The dying lights of the classroom painted four shadows across the white surface. Cloudy gray orbs contemplated the multiplicity of darkness.

Hidden rainbows in the illumination granted each scrap of shade a unique tint; red, yellow, green, and purple. But which one is correct? The lipless mouth turned down at the corners. Who am I, really?

Perhaps… the sniper's expression turned wry, perhaps the true question is; what am I?

This was, of course, not the time for self-reflection. Nor was it the time for inaction. Undoubtedly, right this moment, the forces of good and evil were doing battle a few stories below—on the open decks of the garden. But which side am I supposed to be on? The shadows remained silent. Green, yellow, red, violet… what does that mean? The walls echoed her rasping voice. "It doesn't mean anything, Dahyte." Except, perhaps, that you are going insane.

At the sniper's exclamation, the possessed man should have looked up. He should have said: "What?" But he didn't. In fact, he said nothing at all; because he was no longer in the classroom to which they had fled—escaping the dark magic of the sorceress.

Go after him.

She blinked. "I can't…" Dahyte slowly stood, shaking her head at the tiny voice only she could hear.

You can. Go after him.

"I'm not, Quistis. I'm not." My soul is no good.. "Look." Her words settled into the empty chairs as she pointed a spiked finger. Against one wall, the shadow of the thing the sniper had become lay in a multitude of hues. It's arms, legs, head, and hands all the colors of the rainbow, but at its core, the shadow was black.

Norg was still absent, the room still silent.

Stop him.

"No…" Her voice was the shadow of a whisper. Cloudy eyes burned in the caustic air beneath the mask. "I'm not the hero." The monster fled, leaving behind her weapon. As the clicking of the monster's claws faded away, the long rifle lay silently, atop its blood-colored shadow.

…

The pale strands of the sorceress's hair colored maroon as it wicked up her dark blood. Spreading across the tiles, the warm liquid seeped around her cheek as she lay facedown where she had fallen.

Lilac eyes suddenly materialized where there had existed only closed lids and blood dripped from her face and dress as the sorceress Sera pushed herself to her feet. Her gaze fell upon her betrayer. "You!" There was not even time for the trenchcoated knight's face to register surprise before the bolt of dark magic struck him. "And you!" Her baleful stare turned upon Rinoa moments before her sorcery followed suit.

"No!" The reanimated dark knight's scream was abruptly cut-off as he threw himself into the path of the furious darkness lashing at the raven-haired sorceress.

The blood trailed upon Sera's face twisted as she spoke—an obscene war paint. "Do you not understand?!" Her voice was clear and sharp—all traces of injury gone from her body. "I am the Great One's right hand! I can never be stopped!" She turned her blazing eyes on the three SeeDs approaching from behind. "I am immortal!"

Yet, despite the bloody sorceress's words, the SeeDs, the knights, the sorceress; they all kept coming. Time and time again she ravaged them with the unholy power granted her by the creator of the world. Time and time again they picked themselves up and pressed forward, weapons at the ready.

"You did not expect this, did you sorceress?"

"Great One?" Sera's voice was confused, strained, as another midnight blast erupted from her fingertips. "Help me, my god, help me."

"But I am helping you, sorceress." The voice was quiet, calm within her mind. "Helping you see."

She was still facedown in a pool of her own blood. Her eyes were still closed. She tried to open them, but her body refused to obey. A vision?

"Yes, sorceress. A vision." The voice paused. "A vision of what might have been."

What might have been? Sera was unsure if her lips actually moved or if her speech was only in her mind. "Great One, I don't understand… why do you hold me back?"

Something that might have been a laugh echoed in the darkness. "Because you have failed me, descendant."

Sera felt a chill that had nothing to do with temperature trickle down her spine. "No… Great One, please! I can defeat them! I can—."

"YOU HAVE ALREADY LOST, SORCERESS!" The still, calm voice in the darkness vanished, replaced by the voice of mountain caverns howling in a midnight gale. "You ignored my warnings and brought the knights into this! It was then that you failed me!" The voice continued. "Do you think that you—one of my insignificant creations—could defeat the same power that managed to imprison me?!"

Sera could feel the dark spirits from which she drew her power boiling. She trembled at their agitation. "But… Great One, they who imprisoned you, should they not atone by helping to set you free?"

"And so you sought to control one of them? You—who have never had a knight of your own—you thought you could understand him, could control him?!" The blackness raged. "Your arrogance has cost me my freedom, sorceress…"

Sera could feel the insidious tentacles of the darkness in her mind beginning to spread "My lord, no… wait! Please!" This can't be! It can't happen this way!

The voice continued on, undisturbed by the sorceress's pleas. "…and now, it will cost you your life!"

Sera was dissolving into the night. Damn you, Hyne! Damn you!

The thundering darkness was almost amused. "Damn me?"

She could barely speak, yet the sorceress's tongue still maneuvered for her life. "You'll never find another like me, my Lord. You'll never find another willing to betray her own people to help you with your glorious return."

Sera's world had shrunk to a tiny point—a whisper of a dark god. "Yes I will, sorceress. I created your kind, I know there will always be ones who can be turned—who will see my world returned to me." There was a brief pause. "But it will not be you." Then, without a sound, Sera vanished into the eternal night.

…

"Get up, knight." Seifer's knuckles were white under his gloves as he cast a Full Cure on Squall's motionless figure. He knew Rinoa was looking at him. He felt her eyes as they traveled from his bloodstained weapon to his face, boring into him, seeking an answer. He dared not meet them.

How it tore at him! He could feel her presence, calling to him, pulling him to her. She is alive! Somewhere, sometime—through the swirling green brilliance of the time portal—Ultimecia's heart still beat. Every cell in his body screamed at him to leave these two and seek her out. Seifer knew if he stepped through the portal and simply thought of a time, thought of a place where she lived, he would see her once more. But no, my work here is still unfinished. A short time more, love… He turned away from sorceress and knight as Squall stirred, confident that his former garden rival would soon be fully recovered. …a short time more, and we will be together at last! The branching web of dead flesh strewn across his chest sparked and prickled—as a sleeping limb twinges when blood flow is restored—but Seifer's attention was drawn from the sensations racing across the necrotic tissue by the still figure of the sorceress Sera.

Beneath the body of the sorceress, the spreading pool of red blood was slowly darkening. After a moment, it was the same color as the sorceress's dress. Though green and purple storm clouds still choked the sky above, not a breath of air could be felt on the upper surface of Galbadia Garden—yet the surface of the black blood rippled and undulated.

Selphie—somewhat recovered—and steadying herself on Irvine's shaky arm pointed a finger at the white-haired woman's body and wrinkled her nose. "Ewww! Yuck! She looks like a squished bug!"

Irvine called from where Rinoa's magic had tossed the SeeDs. "Damn, Rinoa, you shore pack a wallop!" While Irvine's right arm supported both Selphie and his weapon, his left hand was massaging his temples. "But, darlin', next time, shoot the bad guy's, huh?" He nodded gingerly toward Zell. "Hey spiky, did we win yet?"

The blond SeeD cast a quick glance over his shoulder. "I dunno." Raising his fists, he took a hesitant step forward.

"C'mon, Irvy! Let's stomp her some more just to be sure!" Releasing the lanky sharpshooter's arm, Selphie shook out her Crescent wish and—still a little unsteady on her feet—advanced on the prone form of the sorceress, now surrounded by a rippling black pool.

"Stay back!" Seifer barked. His authoritative tone stopped the SeeDs in their tracks. "If you want to live, stay out of this."

…

The orange firelight seemed to pulse in time with the throbbing rhythm of the drums. Boom! Tha-tap tap! Boom! tha-tap tap! The dancers raised clouds of dust around the great bonfire as they stomped in time to the slow thumping chanting unintelligible phrases in voices deep and rough as the smoky night sky. The ruby eyes and glistening paint on the masks they wore glistened as the sweat on their twisting bodies. Distorted caricatures of monsters—like visions from fever dreams flashed in the flicker of the flames. Occasionally a dancer would break from the circling throng and advance on the kneeling knight menacingly. Here, an Elnoyle approached, the hot breath carrying the chant washing over Squall like the storm wind from the flying monster's mighty wings. The knight's steel green eyes reflected only the flames—not flickering for even an instant—as the dancer screeched at him, flapping his arms before circling back to rejoin the procession.

Her body undulating like an Anacondar, another dancer broke ranks to approach the knight. Dropping the mask she held to her side, the girl's teeth flashed—a glimmer of white in her sooty face. Caught off-guard, Squall blinked. Rinoa? He could not speak. The drums and chanting grew louder, their tempo increasing. Boom!Tha-taptap-Boom! tha-taptap! Her hair a blur of spidery dreadlocks, the smiling sorceress crouched before Squall, her neck darting forward like a striking snake. Even as he was shocked by the taste of charcoal and ash on his lips, Squall felt Rinoa's fingertips tracing twin lines of greasy war paint down the line of his cheek.

When she pulled back, the smile had vanished. From sad brown eyes, her tears traced two paths of paleness through the grime on her face. "Only three…" She whispered to him.

Squall tried a second time to speak, but found himself still mute. The red earth seemed to shake with the pounding of the drums.

Tangled and beaded hair few again as Rinoa glanced fearfully over her shoulder at the circle of dancers before glancing back to Squall. "Time." The bonfire exploded, turning Rinoa and the other dancers into featureless silhouettes in its brilliance, drowning out their voices with its roar. The costume monsters scattered, fleeing the raging inferno.

Squall was captivated by the flames. As his hand tightened on his gunblade, everything seemed to fall away—except for the dark flames licking up the light at the center of the enormous bonfire.

Something tugged at Squall's mind and the vision ended. In one smooth motion, he was on his feet, facing the bubbling fountain of oily darkness that had enveloped the sorceress Sera. As its tip was drawn from between the tiles in which it had lodged, his gunblade whispered. Hyne.

The monster's eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Lipless mouth hanging open, it panted as it pressed its back and two atrophied winglets against the wall. Slowly, it slid to a sitting position, the pistol it had been holding dropping to the floor with a clatter. Drawing its knees up to its scaled chest, the monster began to shake uncontrollably. It can't be… Dahyte shook her head violently. Still unable to open her eyes she cowered behind the corner. It… can't be… here! Despite the fearful denials screaming through the transfigured woman's head, there was no denying the presence of the jet-black amorphous creature. There was no denying that the Finger of God had been loosed upon the world.

Almost forgotten, the cracked sapphire pulsed hungrily as the tip of the oily thing that had enveloped the sorceress Sera slipped toward it. The pool of black liquid skin surrounded the gem, slick tendrils erupting from the amorphous shape, pausing only a moment before knifing into the great rift in the jewel. Abruptly, the fountain of darkness smoothed and swelled, lifting itself more than a dozen feet in the air and swaying, snakelike, before the two knights. The Sapphire Nightmare disappeared into the opaque liquid surface of the thing.

A warning shudder shook the deck as Galbadia Garden's damaged structure protested the new load on its decks.

Midnight gunblade pointed steadily from the end of an outstretched arm, Seifer spared a glance at the jacketed figure that had taken up position beside him. "Ready, knight Leonhart?" The hint of a sneer tugged at his lip.

Squall was ready. Ready for what, he knew not—but something; some ancient memory of other knights long forgotten told him that this was part of his destiny. He did not speak.

Before the two knights, the column of living darkness thickened.

"You'll never be free of me, sorceress." Rinoa was frozen where she stood, staring at the Finger of God.

"No matter how hard you try, no matter how long you last, I will always win—in the end." The darkness above the blond and brown haired knights braided and unbraided in agitation.

"Shut up!" Rinoa screamed soundlessly.

Shadowy rainbows played across the thing's surface. "I am a God, sorceress."

"Shut up!" The voice was acid in her mind. "Why can't you just leave us alone?!" Rinoa's unblinking eyes burned—anger mixed with sorrow and dread.

"I call you my descendants, but you are nothing more than pets to me." The Finger of God grew larger still, yet the knights made no move to attack it. "You were an amusement I created for myself. These 'lives' you live, these 'loves' you have—they are all part of my great game."

Rinoa gritted her teeth. "I don't care! I will… never… let you free!"

A hate-filled laugh echoed in the sorceress's mind. "You will never let me free? I am free, sorceress. It is you that are trapped. I go on… forever! But you end. You die. Your love dies." Another shudder ran through the garden. "In the blink of my eye, you will all be gone."

A long silence fell, but Rinoa was still held in thrall.

"But now, I grow tired of this game, sorceress. Play-fighting your kind, killing your kind, it bores me now." A short pause. "So I give you a choice, sorceress; call off your knight, and I will grant you both eternal life, eternal youth."

"No."

"Don't be foolish."

The casket was long, dark, and somber. It seemed to float amidst the sea of flowers spread across the long table on which it lay. Invisible hands propelled her forward. "No! No!" Rinoa tried to close her eyes, to no avail.

Look.

The face of the body inside was strange to her, but still achingly familiar. Despite the lines of old age, despite the hollowed gauntness of the ravages of time, his creased hawk-like brow, the stern lines of his jaw, the ancient scar still faint across his forehead struck her like physical blows. Eyes closed in peaceful death, the old warrior lay in full fighting attire, his gunblade, chipped, scarred, but polished to a gleaming silver resting at his side. "Squall…" Even as her hands flew to tired eyes filling with tears, Rinoa could feel their weakness. Skin stretched like thin parchment over brittle bones grew damp as she was allowed, at last, to cover her eyes. Wisps of her once-dark hair—now bleached by the wash of years—drifted down over her face like cobwebs.

"This is the best you can ever hope for, Sorceress." Hyne's voice whispered into her ear. "You will become old, you will become ugly, you will become feeble, and then you will die." The voice of the god was slow, measured, and familiar—no longer the booming cadence it had once been. "But I can change all that for you."

Slowly as a feather, Rinoa's hand drifted down to the cold cheek of the shell of the man she loved.

"He doesn't have to die, Sorceress. You can save him. You need not grow old. You can spare yourselves from this horror."

The upturned face of a red rose caught the sorceress's tear as it fell.

"Give me the key to my freedom. Allow my hand to pass through the hole you have made in time, and the terrible things you see before you will never come to pass."

A long, slow sigh passed the sorceress's ancient lips as her gnarled fingers traced the line of his cheek one last time. "No." A strange shuddering sob shook her frail body. "No, Hyne. It is not so terrible." Rinoa touched the wrinkles around Squall's still lips. Here… those lines… The tiniest of smiles tugged at her old mouth. She could feel the laughter—yet to be—that had left its mark on her Knight's face. And here… She was sure her heart would burst as she traced the crow's feet of ten-thousand secret smiles that would accompany decades of whispered I love you's. The sorceress shook her head. "No. We'll live this life." Slowly, regretfully, her hands left the face of her lover as she backed away from the dark casket. Even as her tears began to dry, Rinoa could feel the strength returning to her hands. Hyne's vision of the future faded to the war-torn deck of Galbadia Garden. "I will not let you free. Not now. Not ever!"

"You will regret this, sorceress." The voice seemed almost sorrowful.

"No, I won't." Rinoa was herself once again, but the ache left in her heart remained. Still… It was almost a pleasant pain. "You may have created us, Hyne, but we've become more than your creations. We've discovered things greater even than you."

"There is nothing greater than me!" The exclamation was an echoing shriek that seemed to split the very air. The Garden groaned as it was shaken to its foundation. Before the two knights standing with weapons at the ready, faces began to form in the black ooze. Though the Finger of God was darker than the spaces between the stars, darker still were the voids of eyes, which swam to the surface to the two swaying columns. Terrifying empty mouths appeared, long spike-like teeth gnashing as reverberating screams filled the unsettled skies.

Neither Squall no Seifer moved a muscle as the columns of darkness before them twisted and writhed, pairs of arms tipped with razor-sharp blades erupting from their sides. To the knights, the noises echoing from the thing's cavernous mouths were nothing more than incoherent shrieks, but Rinoa understood the thing's words. "You are nothing! I will end you all!" The black, soulless eyes looked past the knights, boring into Rinoa. "You may live, sorceress, but I will haunt you forever! Time is no master to me! I will destroy your life, and the lives of your children's children's children if you defy me! You will never be free of me!"

The chill of space seemed warm compared to the gaze of the god, but Rinoa did not look away, her brown eyes flashed as she met its stare. "So be it."

Twin columns of darkness howled and exploded toward the dark-haired sorceress.

Two gunblades cut screaming arcs through the air—one silver, one midnight—their passage ripping great rents in the Fingers of God. Squall only had a moment to see Seifer engage his own section of the monster before the giant dark blades of the monster's arms descended upon him. Charged with even more strength and speed than when he had fought the Ruby Dragon in Timber, Squall dodged aside as the attack clove through the hard tile and steel of the deck as if they were nothing but mist. He whirled and his gunblade's tip sang as it whisked through a bubbling joint of darkness, severing one of the oily blades from its arm.

Fetid poison air jetted from the beast's mouth as it roared, and two new swords sprang from the end of the amputated arm. Sparks showered down upon the knight as he swung his weapon above his head, meeting, full-force, the whispering descent of the monster's three blades at once. Faster than a Grendel blinks, a spear of midnight shot from the snakelike torso of the beast, aimed at Squall's heart. The knight was not there to meet it, rather—moving almost faster than the eye could follow—he rolled aside, knocking away the monster's myriad spikes and blades with a backhanded swipe. A crack of thunder rolled across the deck and a round buzzed off into the sky as Squall fired his weapon, the force of the recoil halting the impetus of his blade and allowing him to reverse his strike. Lunging forward, he drove the gunblade—trigger facing upwards—into the monster's side. The weapon sank in almost to the hilt. Gathering himself, Squall ducked under the handle and sprang upward. With a sickening ripping sound, the blade reamed the towering beast—splitting it nearly in half.

Its mouth torn open, the beast screamed, sword arms melting back into its body. Squall was not given a moment's respite, however, for the serrated blades of the monster's front teeth abruptly elongated and the entire sinuous column descended upon him like a massive spiked club.

Still recovering from his landing, Squall barely rolled aside in time as the beast thudded to the deck with incredible force. Something deep inside Galbadia Garden gave way and the entire deck, left of the great gash cloven by Balamb Garden's stern, dropped several feet with a rending crash.

A second head appeared in the mass of liquid darkness even as the beast's giant club blurred—descending upon the knight a second time. Still on his back from the first evasion, Squall sprang to his feet, only to disappear under the second crushing blow. The undulating surface of the giant club smoothed for a moment, then peeled back as a Silver gunblade exploded into the air, followed by the knight. The new head of the monster snapped hungrily at Squall while he was still in the air, and only a desperate snapshot saved him from being consumed as the monster's head recoiled from the force of the bullet and blade striking it. The force of the shot tore the gunblade from Squall's hands, and he landed hard on his back, his weapon skittering across the broken decking.

A seeming forest of dark blades descended upon the defenseless knight as the Finger of God pressed its advantage. Teeth locked, Squall raised an arm in automatic reaction, but all his para-magic spells had been torn away. The myriad spikes blurred as they darted forward to stab into the knight's body.

Inches from his bared teeth, the razor-sharp darkness evaporated in the brilliant wash of a burst of Holy magic.

Knight Cid Kramer lowered his arm, hand dropping to the grip of the Bec De Corbin. Wordlessly, he charged the roaring tower of darkness.

Squall retrieved his gunblade and turned in time to see a flower-like arm bloom from the mass of the Finger of God. With petals of tiny writing snakes, the new appendage suddenly darted forward, reaching for Balamb Garden's headmaster, but stopped—transfixed by the spear tip of the old knight's weapon. Strange fire seemed to race over the form of the headmaster and run down the shaft of his weapon. The beast's new arm detonated with a tremendous explosion as the fire touched it.

The monster recoiled for a moment, giving Squall a chance to glance over toward Seifer. The knight was nothing but a blur of motion surrounded by the crackling purple arcs of his dark weapon as he clove through wave after wave of attacks from sword-arms that endlessly sprouted from the beast.

A deep groan issued from the fissure in the deck. The Finger of God was growing larger, placing more and more strain on Galbadia Garden's damaged structure. How is it growing? Squall's eyes narrowed as a third column—complete with terrifying jaws and empty eyes—appeared in the undulating liquid night. …the jewel?

"HA!" The liquid snake solidified just long enough for Zell to deliver a punishing kick to it's midsection even as he batted away two smaller spiked worms of darkness with his armored fist. A strange tiny face appeared in the thing and wailed at him as it recoiled. It's screams were cut short a second later as the Crescent Wish smashed the things features. "Feeling better, Selph?" Zell shouted as he dodged another spike.

Selphie grinned as she whirled the nunchaku. "Yeah! That elixir did the trick!" She turned. "Thanks, Sweetie-pie!"

Irvine, nearly out of ammunition, had taken to smashing the dark fluid tendrils with the butt of his rifle as they approached. He turned away from one such appendage of the dark thing and tipped his hat. "Aww, twern't nothing, babe."

As quickly as the grin had appeared on the short SeeD's face, a stormy frown abruptly took its place. "But look what that stupid poison spike did to my dress!!" She kicked a tendril of darkness away as she pulled at the hem of her skirt, displaying the tiny hole to Zell. "Stupid! Nasty! Yucky! Ugly! Dirty! Thing!" The energetic SeeD laid about her with her weapon, smashing protrusions from the small stream of darkness that had trickled away from the main mass of the beast—toward the green glare of the time portal—with each word.

Taking a quick breather, Zell cast a glance at the swirling brilliance of the disturbance. "Are you guy's sure we shouldn't just jump through?" He asked, for the thousandth time.

"Simmer down, thar. We don't even know what the hell that thing is. 'fraid we've been left out o' the loop on this one, Zell." Irvine, laying on a heavy drawl, spat on a flattened black snake for emphasis. "Le's just guard this here thang until Squall or Rinoa tells us just what the hell's goin' on."

Casting a worried glance toward the undulating mass of darkness—from its far side, the SeeDs could discern the flashes of magical discharges from what looked like a good-sized battle—Zell spoke. "But what if… what if those guy's lose?"

"Um…" Selphie pursed her lips as she turned toward the blond SeeD. "Then, I guess we're all pretty screwed."

"Yup." Irvine squeezed off one of his few precious remaining rounds of Fire Ammo at a thickening trunk of the black living oil.

"Standby cannon." Releasing the transmit button, Xu kept the microphone close to her mouth as she waited for Higinio to give the signal that the garden was stopped.

At last, he turned. "Full stop, Mam. We're keeping station with Galbadia Garden."

The student monitoring the weather console spoke up. "Winds have gone calm, Mam."

Xu nodded as she spoke into the transmitter. "Fire!"

Cordite smoke erupted from catwalks ringing the lower decks as ten heavy grappling lines snaked out towards the damaged red garden. Pointed harpoons broke through the sides of the academy, hooks springing outward as they penetrated the structure, fixing the lines in place. Heavy winches bolted into housings on Balamb Garden's support beams began taking up the slack in the line as a second volley of smaller lines arced across the gap between the floating behemoths.

Xu turned from the window to face a SeeD seated at another communications console. "Tactical, what's the word on the situation over there?"

Balamb Garden had maneuvered until it could approached its Galbadian counterpart's southeast side—the section showing the least structural damage—and the sail-like tower rising above the open decks of the red garden had blocked the action from view. One of the few jet packs captured in the Galbadian Attack on Balamb Garden—and it's rookie pilot—had been dispatched to give the SeeDs an idea of what they were stepping into.

"Mam, some pretty weird shit is happening over there." The SeeD looked up.

Xu frowned. "That's not very helpful, SeeD."

"I know, Mam." He shrugged apologetically. "His exact words." He raised a hand as another transmission started coming through. "Just a moment…"

"Only three, sorceress."

Sharp edges of broken tiles pricked her legs as Rinoa knelt. She watched with a troubled heart as the knights charged the hand of Hyne again and again. The beast was growing. Somewhere, deep within the manifestation of the god, Hyne was slowly leaking her influence back into the world through the narrow passage of the rift in her sapphire prison.

"Only three."

She's not free. She's not sure she can win—otherwise she wouldn't bargain with me. Rinoa didn't move, though her soul cringed as the arc of silver flashing blade disappeared behind a mountain of darkness.

"You are wrong, sorceress. I only wanted to spare you the pain of death and loss. I see now, that you are not worthy of such a gift." The voice was calm once more. "Long, long ago, I allowed my creations to become strong. I wanted to test myself, define my powers against you, whom I have created. There were twelve knights then..."

Rinoa drew in a shaky breath. Despite the calm, disinterested nature of the voice of the god in her mind, she could feel the seething hatred, the anger, the will to do harm behind the words.

"…now there are only three. Do you really think they can stop me?"

"How can this be?" Rinoa whispered to herself. How can such a being of darkness exist? How can the only god be a monster of hatred? Rinoa had no tears left, just a deep abiding sadness. "Where does love come from? Light, kindness?"

"Do you really want to know, sorceress?"

Rinoa shivered. She already knew what the god would tell her. "No…"

"False idols, sorceress. Your Baal." The voice was a whisper, insidious and impossible to ignore. "I am the one true God. My power created the heaven and the earth. You are my creations, and you have turned your faces from me." Rinoa was shaking her head. "This is my universe, darkness and hate are all that exist here."

"That's not true!" Rinoa's words should have rung strong, confident. "And I'll show you it's not true!" But the despair in her voice betrayed her. It can't be true!

It was hopeless, but still he fought on. Dark blade parting darker flesh, Seifer danced the steps of battle. With every blow he blocked, with every thrust he dodged, the tall knight could feel the black beast before him becoming stronger, faster, more clever. There was nothing he could do to stop it. The great gashes his midnight weapon tore in the monster healed over faster than he could tear new ones. The power of his sorceress had crossed the boundaries of time to imbue him with impossible strength, speed, and stamina, yet it was not enough. Seifer knew he was losing, he knew the other knights were failing as well, and it infuriated him.

It cannot end this way! Seifer's blade was struck aside by a tree trunk of oily darkness. He barely managed to dodge three simultaneous spear thrusts from the monster as he recovered. I won't let it end this way! Anger enveloped him as he redoubled his efforts—driving straight for the thing's throat as it lowered one of its horrific faces to scream at him. Surrounded by the blinding fog of the beast's poison breath, the knight instinctively blocked thrust after thrust from dark spikes that appeared from nowhere. Something besides the toxic air stung his eyes. I cannot fail you, love… A blow that would have killed any other man descended from the swirling, screaming fog. Seifer's shoulders creaked and his joints protested under the strain as he stood firm against the assault. Underfoot, cracked tiles shattered and his boots slid backwards through dissolving ceramic. …not again! He fell, panting, to one knee as the monster reared to its full height above him. "Never again…" He whispered, bearing his teeth as he struggled back to his feet.

No one saw the knight of the fire cross cut one last blazing arc through the air as he charged the Finger of God. No one watched his final act of defiance as, screaming a wordless challenge, he charged recklessly into the seething tower of darkness. In a heartbeat, the blond knight was gone. His steely eyes, his haughty sneer, his dark blade all swallowed by the night.

"You cannot keep us apart!" The old knight screamed into the howling darkness. From a hole in time behind the black beast, his sorceress called out to him. "I will be with her again!" As ragged breaths tore through his chest, pain blazed in his arms, but did not burn nearly so bright as the flames jetting from the cracks in his broken heart. Edea… you're so close I can almost taste you! He blasted away a dozen spiked snakes of darkness with an explosion of Flare magic. I will not lose you now!

The undefeatable beast towered before him, but still the headmaster of Balamb Garden charged forward, crackling with furious energy. The beast melted away before the tip of his spear as he drove deeper and deeper into its core. Vines of darkness wrapped around his legs, then twisted and tore as he strained forward. The tunnel he had created in the monster darkened as its entrance closed over. The only illumination on the spiked walls of the creature of midnight was the blazing fire surrounding the knight. Soon, it too winked out.

Suddenly, the monster before Squall doubled, then tripled in size. It had become an impossible twisting mountain of blackness. As the enormous beast straightened—rising over a hundred feet in the air—the knight took an involuntary step backwards. He glanced to his left and right. There was nothing to indicate that the other two knights had ever even existed.

"Only one now."

Squall did not blink as he stared along his upraised gunblade at the towering monster. This is it… The peak of the monster began to pour forward. …we failed. For the shortest of instants, he glanced back toward Rinoa. His love's eyes lay closed, squeezing two trails of tears down between the dark strands that had fallen over her face. She knelt, hunched and hopeless, her magical wings cracked and dulled from the abuse she had endured. Please, Rinoa, there's not much time left… Squall dared not blink, lest he miss it. Please, love, open your eyes… look into mine one last time. Squall could hear the wind rushing around the body of the descending monster. Hurry, my sorceress, leave me with no regrets. Still, Rinoa's eyes remained closed. Rinoa, I want you to see me once more. I want our lips to move together in one final prayer. Time stood still for her, but still the sorceress did not open her eyes. Please! Let us whisper 'I love you' again, if just once more! The glinting fall of a tear was her only response to his silent entreaties.

Time waited for no one. Squall whirled, the monster struck, silver flashed, a shot rang out, and the knight of the Lion was gone.

…

With a final scream, Galbadia Garden gave way. The twisted and bent main beam of the floating academy ruptured and the garden split apart. Great cracks appeared in the red walls, jagging their way down to the waterline. With a crackling jolt, the massive structure parted into two asymmetrical pieces—the starboard decks peeling away from the sail-like ridge running the length of the garden and plunging into the sea.

On the catwalks of Balamb Garden, chaos erupted. Cadets and SeeDs alike hit the deck as officers screamed at the first wave of the boarding parties to detach themselves from the humming cables.

The inch-thick braided steel of the wire, to which Iris had attached her zip harness, hummed and began to fray like a piece of twine stretched far too tight. Doing her level best not to panic, the pig-tailed girl worked hurriedly at the double catch. A strand of metal plinked like a broken guitar string and whipped across her cheek—barely missing her eye.

Only a few feet away a student manning one of the large winches—to which the securing cables were attached—hauled back on a locking lever as the whizzing spool unwound. The mechanism sparked and screeched in protest before the force on the winch sheared through the bolts holding it fast. The entire assembly took flight—breaking the student's arm as it did so.

At last, Iris managed to unclip herself from the overstressed cable. She turned toward another student who was trying to cut the harness off a stuck SeeD even as the Red-faced mercenary was screaming for his would-be rescuer to get the hell clear. Iris's hand had dropped to her own utility knife, preparing to render the pair additional assistance, when she felt a searing heat across her back accompanied by a cannon-like report.

Galbadia Garden's broken starboard deck slowly tilted away from the rest of the former desert training center, snapping cables and support beams as if they were nothing more than cobwebs and toothpicks. The port side of the giant garden—liberated from the counterbalance of the starboard decks—began tilting away from the garden's previous center of mass as seawater rushed into the open classrooms, training areas, mess halls, and barracks exposed by the destruction. A thunderous booming and constant crackling accompanied the great cloud of dust and debris that shot skyward as the vessel split in two. The few lights still burning in the dying garden flickered and burst as power fluctuations raced through demolished circuitry.

The smaller starboard side of G-Garden sank quickly. Only a few short minutes after it split from the rest of the garden, the myriad fires that had broken out from ruptured gas lines and malfunctioning electric appliances were quenched by the millions of gallons of seawater which quickly filled the empty hulk as it slipped beneath the unsettled, dirty waves.

The port section of the garden fared a bit better. A dozen watertight doors inside the structure had slammed shut at the first sign of a hull breach. Because it had been designed to be a seagoing vessel, the garden's builders had prepared for the eventuality of catastrophic damage to the structure, ensuring that the garden could stay afloat under any circumstances. The passage of centuries, however, had seen hundreds of modifications made to the mobile refugee shelter, and for every emergency seal that closed against the hungry waters, two more doors were blocked from performing their function and the remains of Galbadia Garden began listing badly to the left.

"Woa! Look out!" Zell threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around an metal exhaust pipe protruding from G-Garden's deck as the floor tilted beneath him. "Find something to grab on to!" His shout was unnecessary, for Irvine and Selphie were already clinging to their own handholds as the slant of their footing became too great to remain standing.

Fingers straining to keep her from sliding down the sudden incline, Selphie shouted, "Look!"

Before the three SeeDs, the jagged edge of Galbadia garden reared skyward. Masonry, wood, and metal showered down upon them from the broken sides of the structure as they stared at a terrible sight. Unaffected by the tilting garden beneath it, the black liquid monster stretched out toward Rinoa. There was no sign of Squall, Seifer, or the Headmaster. Time seemed to hang, suspended, as the sorceress, lifted to her feet by the gyrations of the garden, stumbled—head down—toward the beast.

"No!" The three mercenaries were powerless to do anything but shout as they watched their friend collide with the endless night of the Finger of God. She disappeared before their shocked brains could register what they were seeing. All that remained was a fleeting memory of the flash of a white wingtip and a tiny ripple in the oily beast.

There is nothing greater than me.

Underfoot, the world seemed to release the breath it had been holding, and Galbadia Garden crashed back into level equilibrium with a thunderous sighing.

That can't be right! Zell's mouth worked as he turned to his comrades with a seeking look. That's not the way it happens! He couldn't make a sound. Guys? Neither SeeD returned his gaze. Instead, Selphie's lips thinned into bloodless lines as she pushed herself back to her feet, a muscle in Irvine's neck twitched as he took aim at the black beast, and Zell—to his own surprise—felt his own fists rise, preparing for combat. But we… they… can't have lost! This is all wrong!

A below decks explosion set the ground shivering under the SeeD's feet as the monster before them lay quiescent. If Zell could have recognized anything—besides how wrong everything had become—he might have thought the black thing seemed almost surprised at its own victory. Whatever the reason for it, the beast's shocked stillness did not last long. The thin black snakes that had been menacing the SeeDs retreated as the monster began to gather itself into a long rolling wave that poured silently across the deck toward the green glowing porthole—and the SeeDs defending it.

Zell could feel his face twisting into an angry grimace even as his fingernails bent within his tightly balled hands. It's… so… wrong! He drew back his fist to strike, though he knew he might as well try to fight off the rising of the tide.

The wall of nightmare darkness reared above the mercenaries, it's crest frothing with a thousand black daggers.

The Ergheiz and Crescent Wish struck, the Exeter thundered.

Yes there is.

And the black tide rolled back.

Dumbfounded, Zell let his fists fall to his sides as the wave of darkness retreated. A sparkle caught the corner of his eye, turning the blond SeeD's head. From the dirty low-lying cloudbank, a comet of sparking brilliance traced a slanting trajectory down into the debris-strewn waters around the sinking academy. Another slow meteor followed it, silently fizzing and twinkling—this time on the opposite side of the garden. Suddenly, the air and waters around the SeeDs were filled with a shower of the descending points of light—like a rain of fiery sunflowers.

The Finger of God lay illuminated by the gentle deluge of light. Filmy colors washed over its slick skin as it rippled. Near the center of the silent pool of oil a tiny bubble formed. The miniature sphere started out no bigger than a black pearl, but it grew quickly. The pearl became an orange, the orange a basketball, and the basketball a boulder. As it swelled, the blister brightened, changing from black, to violet, to blue, to white. A shaft of piercingly white light speared through the clouds and kissed the top of the boil. Zell could not tell whether the light originated from within the swelling dome, or from the sky above.

Suddenly, the eerie silence was shattered by a thunderclap as light exploded in all directions, so bright it seemed almost solid—the world encased in glowing ivory. Even the shadow of the sorceress hovering above the shrinking boiling darkness was brighter than fresh-fallen snow under the winter sun. As if she were a photographic negative, every line of Rinoa's face was traced in white, her white wings so bright they seemed black.

Zell was certain that, even had he covered his eyes with his hands, even had he looked away, the brightness would shine right through his body, projecting the scene on the backs of his corneas. Finally! Now he was sure. This was the way things were supposed to be. He wanted to laugh and clap his hands… so he did.

Time resumed a slow progression, at last. The events that transpired seemed as the scene skipped in a movie—in a hairsbreadth worth of time, the darkness that was The Hand of God vanished, revealing three knights, weapons still raised against the foe that no longer existed. Rinoa's features slowly faded back into normalcy as her feet made contact with the broken tiles—scoured clean of any sign of the oily blackness that had covered them—in her hand, rested the Sapphire Nightmare, the imperfection of its crack wiped away. The jewel was whole once more.

The perfect scene lasted only the time between the striking of Zell's palms and the sound of the clap reaching his ears before reality intruded. What was left of Galbadia Garden lurched underfoot as another explosion wracked the dying ship.

Something is greater. Rinoa stumbled. The jewel slipped from her fingers, but she was too exhausted to care. She staggered backward, her legs like jelly. And that something is… She had not even the strength to arrest her motion, and it felt as if she might just trip backwards forever—until a gentle touch stopped her. The helping hand didn't come from the right direction, but she knew who it must be nonetheless. From some hidden reserve, she dredged up the strength to turn her head, her dark eyes turning to those of the man supporting her. Squall…

The soulless stolen orbs staring back at her were an even greater shock than the cold pressure against her back, an even greater shock than the bullet that pierced her heart.

Squall turned just in time not to see; just in time not to see the man's eyes flicker from those of his victim to Squall's own, just in time not to see the cruel hooks of the evil smile twist his lips. Squall did not hear the muffled report of the pistol, he did not see Rinoa pitch forward as the man released his grip on her shoulder—he was sure he did not

The gunblade slipped through the man's sternum and stomach as if it were parchment, it clove his spine in two without hesitation. The force of the screaming knight's charge carried the man backwards into the wall of what remained of the G-Garden's upper decks. Even as the man's flesh was torn by a bullet, he was nailed—like a specimen in an insect collection—against the solid steel outer bulkhead, Squall's gunblade sinking up to the hilt into his chest. Of course, all of this bothered Norg not at all. With the used-up body's dying breath, he whispered, "You can't stop me, Squall Leonhart." But Squall was already gone, leaving the jerking body pinned by his weapon. As Norg's consciousness fled the shell of another life he had destroyed, he chuckled to himself. "Perfect."

Rinoa was fine, of course. She could talk, sing, dance, and laugh just as well as she had before. Squall was foolish to worry as he dropped to his knees next to her still form. The bullet had missed, or it had been a blank, or any of a thousand other happy coincidences.

Rinoa was fine, of course. Squall was foolish to worry as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Not worried, not too choked by fear to speak, he whispered her name. "Rinoa?" Rinoa was a sorceress, you can't hurt a sorceress with something so primitive as a revolver.

Just as you can't believe all the lies you tell yourself between loss, and comprehension of your loss.

So many things were wrong. He could feel her wound, he could feel the torn fabric and flesh, he could feel her blood soaking into his clothing, soaking into his soul. He did not make a sound as he pulled her to him. Nonononono! He didn't say anything. He didn't say anything. Who could speak, who could live, after losing perfection? It was fortunate Squall did not have his weapon.

They were pulling him away, so he hit them. Hard. Squall heard bones crack with the blow, but he could not be sure if they were his or theirs. Someone blond with body armor tossed him aside. Who were these people? He did not care. If he could have, he would have cut them down to be with her again. It was fortunate Squall did not have his weapon.

…

Seifer's eyes did not open at the shot. He didn't need his vision to see what had happened. All he needed was Squall's anguished cry and the ripping-fabric noise of a gunblade striking flesh. The tall knight continued to kneel where the vanishing darkness had dropped him as his ears picked up the sound of footfalls. Three lighter treads, That would be the SeeDs, running to render assistance far too late for any of us. and one heavier set. Knight Kramer, where are you going? Seifer needn't have asked, he already knew. The same place I long to go.

Cold blue eyes snapped open. Balamb Garden Headmaster, Cid Kramer, was fifteen paces from the swirling green mists of the portal. Hyperion now rested comfortably in Seifer's right palm. How long since I have held my gunblade like this? Twelve paces, the aging knight was running now. How long since I could feel anything… anything at all? Nine paces. Seifer cocked his arm back. You won't take this away from me, Knight Kramer, not yet… and not you. The power of his sorceress infused him from across decades, he would not fail. Six paces. Seifer's arm blurred.

It was too late, she was gone. Zell could tell just from the tone of Irvine's voice, but still, they had to try. The malicious magical attacks they had endured had stripped the SeeDs of all their healing spells, and elixirs took far too much time to be of any use. But Seifer, Headmaster, they still have their— Zell looked up, preparing to shout. He choked on his cry for assistance. "NO!" The spinning dark blade traced purple arcs through the air before burying itself in the Headmaster's back.

Three paces from the portal, Cid Kramer stopped—transfixed by Seifer's gunblade. The Bec De Corbyn clattered to the deck as he struggled for a moment to remain standing—the bloody tip of the dark weapon protruding from his chest. At long last, with a sigh like the wind through great sequoia trees, he collapsed to his knees. Stretching out one arm toward the time when he could feel his love, still alive, Knight Kramer whispered her name one last time before he died. "Edea…" The headmaster swayed, then pitched forward. His body was nothing but an empty shell by the time his cheek hit the tiles.

Deep within the bowls of the devastated Galbadia Garden, water at last found a breach in the academy's cavernous engine room and thousands of gallons of highly conductive seawater cascaded down upon the delicate and mysterious drive system built with technologies lost centuries ago. The resulting explosion actually lifted the remainder of the garden several feet out of the water. Support members that had been holding together only out of luck and habit finally gave up the ghost, and the garden began to break up. Almost before crashing back down into the water, the floating hulk's upper deck fractured in a dozen places, entire sections of the open-air platform suddenly disappearing, replaced by gaping holes, jets of steam, or gouts of fire.

Seifer had just reached the body of Balamb Garden's headmaster when the deck he was standing on suddenly tilted from horizontal to vertical. Only by pulling his weapon from the body of the knight and jamming it into the bucking deck, was he able to keep himself from plummeting into a huge chasm that abruptly appeared on all sides. As the garden settled further into the water, the time portal remained stationary—drifting out of reach, overhead. Seifer spared it a calculating glance. I can't make it. Gathering himself against the sheer cliff of dissolving decking to which he now clung, he sprang sideways, pulling hyperion from where it had lodged, and making a rolling landing on a more stable section of the shivering garden.

Abruptly, Seifer jerked his head to the side, narrowly avoiding the screaming descent of the silver gunblade. Chips of tile and grouting sprayed the side of his face and his left ear rang from the sound of the blow. An instant later, the same silver blade blocked his backhanded slash at the jacketed knight. Sparks showered from the two blades. "How did it feel, Squall?" Seifer pressed his counterattack, forcing Squall back a few paces over the jouncing deck. "Did you enjoy losing yours?"

"She's not gone!" Squall's eyes flitted to the glow of the portal for an instant—even as its emerald light reflected across his bared teeth—then returning to lock with those of the trenchcoated knight as their blades followed suit. "And you won't keep me from her!" Squall's last words were punctuated by the ringing of gunblades locking as he brought a two-handed overhead slash down on Seifer's head.

Seifer broke up the lock with a steel-toed kick to the dark-haired knight's stomach. "I could say the same thing," he growled.

Squall shrugged off the blow, charging the blond knight again. "I don't care!"

Seifer turned Squall's blade aside, inches before it would have penetrated his chest. "I know."

"God dammit!" Irvine's drawl was forgotten as he turned at Zell's shout.

The short girl was stunned. Oh, no… Oh, no, headmaster! Still, despite the wrenching sight, Selphie was a bit more articulate, taking in the whole scene from where she crouched, beside Rinoa's body. "Irvine! You've got to keep everybody from going through that… that… thing!" Her voice was shaking, but the wave in the direction of the time portal was authoritative. "Zell, I'm sorry, you're not helping here. Go see if you can do anything for the headmaster!" Her features were flushed and her eyes were glistening, but the commanding tone in her voice demanded compliance. "I'll stay with Rinoa."

Both Irvine and Zell hesitated for a split second.

"Dammit! Don't stand there gaping! GO!" She bawled at them, tears squeezing from eyes pinched shut by her shout. Then the explosion tore the guts out of G-Garden.

Squall dodged aside just in time as the beam of Meltdown scoured the air where he had been standing. By the time he brought his Gunblade back up into striking position, Seifer was already running, leaping over the gaps in the garden's deck as they appeared before him, heading toward a section of the garden that was rising amidst jets of smoke and flames. "No!" Squall charged after him.

Seifer took less than a second to judge the jump to the broken I-beam protruding from a vertical section of decking, but it nearly cost him his life. Squall's gunblade whispered through the tail of his trenchcoat as he made the jump. The flesh on his palms sizzled as he made contact with the I-beam, for the structure was red-hot from the flames licking around it's far end. Seifer barely noticed. Squall was right behind him, the silver gunblade cleaving a wedge of scalding steel from the beam as Squall hung on with one arm, and slashed at the blond knight with the other.

Hyperion whispered into its holster and Seifer jumped onto a cascade of broken fiber-optic cables hanging from a data transmission trunk, using the vine-like wires to scale the steep face of the chunk of G-Garden. Even as he reached the top of the pillar-like section, the entire segment of the academy began to tilt sideways, allowing Squall to run up and over the very same cables Seifer had been forced to climb. As the shorter knight reached the apex of the section, the report of a gunshot and a whistling arc of darkness greeted him. Squall ducked, and the slash met only a few strands of his hair. The silver revolver barked as he struck at Seifer's legs. Seifer met the blow and the blades clashed with a bone-jarring clang. Abruptly, the tilting section upon which they stood broke apart, and both knights were forced to make a tremendous leap to a more stable platform. Regaining their feet, the two warriors collided again in a spray of sparking metal. Neither knight hesitated or showed that they were aware—in any way—of the teeth-rattling sonic boom that filled the air as the Ragnarok appeared out of the remains of the low cloudbank.

…

"Laguna! Slow down! You're going to get us all killed!" Kiros's knuckles were white as he gripped the cushion of the Ragnarok's pilot's seat—currently occupied by the President of Esthar. Covered in full crash webbing, the actual pilot huddled into his chair at the navigator's station, closing his eyes and muttering a fervent prayer. At the tactical officer's chair, Ward grimaced and buckled his safety harness.

Laguna's face was illuminated by flashing yellow and red lights as airspeed and altitude alarms filled the cockpit. "Shut up… Kiros… I know… what I'm doing." Laguna growled through gritted teeth, hauling back on the control yoke.

Abruptly, the thick clouds in front of the Ragnarok parted. Through the streaks of moisture blasted back by the slipstream, the Estharian President and his cabinet could see the dark ocean rushing up to greet them. Kiros didn't say another word—he was too busy throwing himself into the copilot's seat and engaging the restraints.

Trailing streamers of vapor, the Ragnarok seemed to dive straight for the water. At the last second, Laguna tried twisting the flight yoke full over. As a result, the giant red spaceplane hit the water at an oblique angle, yawing hard to starboard. The huge flying machine immediately disappeared in a tremendous cloud of spray as it began to roll, skipping across the water. A moment later, the craft shot from behind the curtain of spray—airborne again, cones of flame trailing hundreds of feet behind its overstressed engines, blasting the water flat for miles behind the spacecraft as it slewed crazily under the inexperienced hand of its new pilot.

"Laguna, look!" Kiros pointed toward the port windscreen. "There's Balamb Garden, and there's a ship—it looks like it's sinking."

President Loire shook his head as he stamped down on the rudder pedals. "That's no ship. That's Galbadia Garden."

…

"Come on, Rinoa, just hang on a little longer…" Now that no one could see her, tears streamed down Selphie's face as she kept the lie alive, holding the body's cold hand. The ocean waves continued to climb higher and higher up her tiny section of Galbadia Garden. Soon there would be nowhere left to go. But I can't just leave her here. It just isn't right. "Don't worry, help is on the way." How did we ever let this happen?

A low-pitched throbbing filled the air as the Ragnarok approached. Selphie spared a glance upward at the descending spacecraft. At any other time, the sight of the huge aerospace plane would have filled her with excitement. But not now. She waved tiredly to the pilot.

A moment later, Selphie couldn't help but wince as the streamlined nose of the spacecraft plowed into the edge of her shrinking island of metal and ceramic. What sort of oaf is flying that thing? She crouched against the unsteady footing as the Ragnarok bumped into the deck again.

A crack appeared in the wall beneath them as intense flames melted through the metal skin of the collapsed section of classrooms. Gouts of fire belched skyward, separating the two knights with a wall of heat. Seifer spared a quick glance backwards at the shifting landscape of the collapsing garden. There… a route to the top… and to her. He turned back just in time.

The curtain of blue flame parted around the tip of the silver blade, changing from violet to orange as the fire's flow was disturbed. Next through the flames were the chamber, hammer, and grip of the revolver, followed by a gloved hand, black-jacketed arm, two steely gray-green eyes and a flash of teeth bared in a grimace of rage. This time Seifer allowed himself to take the defensive, slowly giving ground as Squall pushed him toward his objective—a long slope of red wall that had collapsed onto a second-level deck. From the way the garden was drifting, it was apparent that the portal would soon pass the very peak of the rust-colored incline.

As the two gunblade collided again, a deep roar filled the sky, and the enormous outline of the Ragnarok slowly rose beside the edge of the section of the garden on which the knights fought. First the tall vertical stabilizers, then the enormous upper engine pods, then the tinted glass canopy, and finally the twin particle cannons first crested, and then were brought level with the two combatants. Silouhetted against the giant red spacecraft, the two figures thrust and parried, slashed and riposte; neither knight taking his eyes off the other as they fought—until the air began to crackle with electricity.

Almost reluctantly, the two combatants separated and dove out of the way seconds before the particle cannon opened up on the deck, blasting enormous craters in the walls, sides, and floor of the remains of Galbadia Garden.

"Dammit! Hold it steady!" Laguna shouted to Selphie. "I almost hit Squall… line us up on Seifer!"

"Mr. President, I can hold it steady, or you can fire the cannon. It's one or the other, you can't have both!" Less than two minutes at the helm of her beloved spacecraft, and already Selphie was exasperated. "These weapons weren't designed for precision strikes and this thing bucks like crazy every time you shoot!"

Laguna growled and unbuckled his restraints. "Alright, forget this, take us in." He started toward the lift leading to the cargo areas of the Ragnarok, but found his path blocked by Ward's considerable bulk. "Ward, get out of my way."

The silent man folded his arms and shook his head. Laguna felt a hand on his shoulder. "Laguna, you can't get involved. We can't be sure what's really going on down there." Kiros spoke quietly.

The president of Esthar whirled. "Can't I? Dammit, Kiros! That's what I've been telling myself for the past eighteen years!" Laguna cast his hands down. "And look at me! Look at what 'not getting involved' has made me. I'm his father, for Hyne's sake! I have to help!"

Seifer was sprinting up the smooth red slope of the garden's roofline when his footing suddenly gave way. Stucco and concrete crumbled under him, and the knight found himself plummeting into a pit lined by twisted steel rebar and sparking power cables. His arm shot out, snagging the end of a reinforcing rod protruding from the crumbling cement wall. A shadow passed overhead as Squall leapt over the newly formed chasm. No sooner had the smaller knight landed, than he had brought his weapon up to strike at Seifer's tenuous grip. Hyperion was saved from disappearing into the dusty darkness of the shaking rift by the toe of Seifer's left boot as he dropped the weapon, bringing his right hand up.

The force of the Flare spell lifted Squall from his feet, dropping him two meters from his previous position. The para-magic was still fading from the air as Seifer kicked his gunblade's handle back into his palm. With impossible strength, the knight levered himself up onto level decking once again, using only his left arm.

This has got to be a nightmare. Zell couldn't believe what was happening around him. Before he could even reach the headmaster, the section of the garden on which it had fallen flipped like a pancake, and the body had disappeared into the grinding shuddering chaos of the dissolving garden. He had seen the trenchcoated knight jump clear of the dangerous section, and for a moment, Zell had harbored thoughts of pursuing the hated blond man. The decking crumbling beneath his feet had put an end to those thoughts rather quickly, and Zell had found himself tossed into a race for his life—jumping from section to section as the overhanging fringes of Galbadia Garden's upper deck sloughed into the angry ocean's churning waters.

Irvine tensed as the two knights sprinted toward him, Seifer lead the chase by mere inches, countering Squall's running swipes without even looking back as he pounded up toward the sharpshooter's position. "Don't come any closer, yall!" From a crouch on one knee, he drew a bead on the blond knight.

"Shoot him, Irvine!" The Galbadian gunman nearly jumped out of his boots at the shout from behind. Zell clambered over the jagged edge of the shaky roofline. "What are you waiting for?! Shoot Seifer!"

The two knights had stopped their headlong rush a few yards short of the SeeD's position, and were, once again, engaged in a furious stand-up fight. The scene was spectacular to watch. Both knights appeared only as dark and light blurs of motion. The ringing blows from blades colliding created an almost constant cacophony, underscored by the noise of the Ragnarok's thrumming engines as the huge spacecraft drifted slowly sideways—keeping pace with the two combatants. The cargo ramp descended with a barely audible whirring, creating the impression that the space plane was a great bird of prey, about to scoop the dueling knights up into its cruel metal beak.

Suddenly, there was silence. The two knights separated, staring at each other from behind raised blades—now chipped with dozens of deep scores where the force of their collisions had cloven wedges of tempered steel. The weapons of both combatants rose and fell with the panting breaths they drew.

Squall was the first to speak. "You can't win, Seifer."

To the dark-haired knight's shock, the words were not met with a sneering dismissal. "I know." Seifer whispered in a voice too quiet to hear over the roar of the nearby spacecraft. "But I must fight. We both must fight."

The blond knight's words rang true in the shocked shell of Squall's own heart. "I don't hate you, Seifer." The tip of his gunblade dropped slightly.

"But I hate you, Squall Leonhart." The cold blue eyes flashed. "You always had to stand up to me. I knew you would always keep me from being with her." Seifer bared his teeth. "You'll never know how much I hate you."

Squall had rarely been as earnest as now. "I'm sorry." Even as his own loss tore at his soul, the knight looked upon his opponent with a feeling he could not have imagined existing an hour ago. I don't hate you, Seifer, not anymore. I understand you now… and I pity you. Squall's gunblade touched the ground. "You can't kill me, Knight Almasy, and you won't stop me." Squall turned away—towards the doorway in time.

"No." Don't walk away from me, Squall. The sneer returned. "You're wrong." Don't pity me! Seifer's gloves creaked around the grip of his weapon. You won't leave me here with my failure! "You'll taste my hatred!" Seifer drew back his weapon. "You kept me from my sorceress, Squall Leonhart, now I'll keep you from yours!" Turn to face me, knight! Turn to kill me! "You'll never see Rinoa again!" Hyperion whispered through the air.

Seifer's words struck the chord of Squall's deepest fear. The silver and black blades touched again. For an instant, Squall did feel Seifer's hatred. "No!" No one will keep us apart!! The dark-haired knight drove his weapon toward Seifer with all his strength. The black gunblade descended, to turn Squall's strike away, but the two blades never met. At the last instant, the blond knight paused.

As the silver blade tore through him, Seifer welcomed the painless shock. He pitched forward with the force of the blow, catching himself against Squall's charge with his empty left arm. At last… at long last… The tall knight whispered quickly, before the rushing blood could fill his lungs. "I couldn't… I can't bear it without her."

The dark-haired knight had halted his advance with Seifer leaning against him. He felt Hyperion's handle press against his chest as Seifer, placing both hands on the other knight's shoulders, pushed himself off of Squall's gunblade. His body shuddered as the blade ripped free.

Squall stood shocked, Seifer's blood dripping from the point of his weapon.

A dark stain spread across the front of the blond knight's cream-colored trenchcoat. Staggering slightly, Seifer managed to straighten. Waves of tearing pain seared through him. They helped. They helped to distract him. Still… for a moment, his eyes turned to the time portal—the motion of the garden's hulk making it seem to glide through the air. The single tear of loss was dew on his granite cheek. Strength fled his body as he struggled to lift the dark weapon one last time. With nothing left but willpower, Seifer forced Hyperion to a final raised salute. His eyes locked with those of the one remaining knight. Take care of your sorceress, Squall… and take care of mine. The light dimmed, the roaring in his ears quieted, the pain receded.

The world fled, but before leaving him completely, it graced Seifer with one final memory.

Her hands were cool on his forehead, his cheek. "My strength, my courage, my love." His sorceress sighed as she gazed down at him. "Please don't be sad for us, my knight." His heart ached to banish the look of melancholy that graced her perfect features. "The greatest romances always end in tragedy."

He was her strength. He was her courage. He was her love. And he had said something to brush the sadness from her eyes, he had made everything right again, but what he had done, what he had said, Seifer could not remember, for Seifer was dead.

…

The battle was over. Their enemy was defeated. The blond knight's fall had seemed like that of a giant sequoia tree. Impossible that one of such strength could fall. But fall, Seifer's body did, disappearing into the swirling chaos of the boiling sea far, far below. Still, Irvine's aim did not waver. The butt of the Exeter remained firmly seated against the sharpshooter's shoulder. The Galbadian SeeD felt a tremor within his chest as the dark knight with the silver gunblade—now stained with dark red, nearly black, blood—turned toward him. Slowly, unbelievably, he felt himself center his rifle's sight on his friend's chest. "Please don't come any closer, Squall."

Surprise made Zell take a step backwards. "Irvine…?" His brows drew together in incredulity. "…what are you doing, Irvine?"

The sharpshooter ignored the blond SeeD. "Squall, you know I can't let you pass." It was with a sick heart that Irvine realized the bead he had drawn on the knight did not tremble. Am I really capable of going through with this? What if he doesn't listen? Can I really shoot Squall Leonhart? "We have to leave things as they are, Squall."

Zell knew Squall was going to holster his weapon. Zell knew he and Irvine and Squall were going to talk this out like reasonable people. Zell knew he was going to have time to figure out what thought it was that kept nagging at the back of his mind. No… something's gone very, very wrong here. This time… things aren't right… But, much to the martial artist's dismay, Squall's bloodstained blade did not vanish, and Irvine did not lower his rifle. What is it? What's wrong with this picture—besides the obvious? C'mon Zell! Dammit! If I only had a little time to THINK! There was no time to think. Squall advanced on the crouching SeeD.

"I won't let you stop me, Irvine." Squall did not blink.

Irvine's aim didn't waver, but his glance did at the heavy landing of a figure with long, dark hair, speckled by more than a few gray hairs. The sharpshooter's eyes widened in surprise as President Laguna Loire straightened, from where his jump from the hovering Ragnarok had left him, and raised the snub-nosed submachine gun, pointing it directly at the Galbadian's head. "Drop it, SeeD."

Squall paused long enough to snarl at the new addition to the small group perching atop one of the last floating pieces of Galbadia Garden. "Stay out of this!"

Irvine's ponytail shook slightly. "I can't do that, Sir." His finger tightened on the Exeter's trigger. "I can't risk the consequences… Please, Mr. Loire, lower your weapon and help me. I don't want to shoot your son." The rifle's hammer clicked back. "But I will if I have to."

Squall was only a few feet from the muzzle of the Exeter. Laguna spared him a glance. "You knew?" He spoke to Irvine.

"Selphie told me—please, Mr. President, please stop him for me!" There was no way to miss the knight at this range. No way to choke, no way to blame it on the pressure…

Zell was sure he would explode from the tension, but he was afraid to move lest he disturb the obvious hair-trigger the armed men were maintaining. The SeeD struggled to force that one vital thought through his agitated brain. Who is wrong here…?

And then Zell knew! He opened his mouth, but there wasn't time to explain. Squall was inches from the Sharpshooter and moving inexorably forward, the portal was drifting beyond the edge of the precipice, and Laguna was surely preparing to shoot.

Zell moved like lightning. Irvine's rifle roared and Laguna's machine gun chattered out a short burst of lethality—every round striking nothing but empty air. Still balancing on his left foot, his right leg extended, heel pressed against the barrel of the Exeter, his left hand holding the muzzle of the machine gun, Zell tightened his grip on Laguna's weapon while hooking his foot around Irvine's. With a twist of his body, the martial artist fell to the ground, drawing both weapons out of their owner's hands. "De-nyed!" he grunted as he hit the ground.

Irvine's empty hands were still raised, his eyes still squeezed shut, afraid to open lest they find that he was mistaken, that he really had killed his friend. Laguna simply stood and gaped at the blond SeeD's display of dexterity. Squall said nothing as he brushed by the group of three.

At last, Irvine opened his eyes. The look he shot at his fellow SeeD carried a hint of worry, but dripped relief. "Zell…" …thank you. Thank you for taking the burden from me.

Zell silenced him with a growl. "Irvine, you moron! Don't you get it? The bastard that shot Rinoa screwed everything up! Squall's going to set it right—one way or another…"

How? "What…?" Irvine didn't understand.

"How the fuck do you think Ultimecia can be born with Rinoa…" Dead.

Squall's shoulders hunched. "She's not!" Throwing an arm out to his side, he whirled to face Zell. "She's not! Do you hear me!? I won't allow it!!"

Irvine suddenly sat down as the realization hit him. "Oh, Jesus…" What I almost did… "Oh, Jesus…" He repeated.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Laguna recovered his lost power of speech.

The portal had drifted beyond the peak of the crumbling section of garden. Squall gauged the expanse of air between the last foothold and the swirling green mist. The black-clothed knight gathered himself for the final sprint… and felt a dagger of horror stab though his heart. From below the sharp lip of the broken section of garden, one of the huge vertical stabilizers of the Ragnarok rose into view—stopping directly between the knight and the portal—blocking Squall's path with an enormous wall of red-painted metal.

"Oh no, Selphie!" Zell waved and shouted hopelessly. The cockpit of the space plane was not even in view and he could never hope to shout over the thrumming of its engines.

"Darlin', darlin'! Not now!" Irvine stood, shaking his head. "She must not realize…" He turned to the blond SeeD. "How long will that portal last?"

"How the hell should I know?" Zell shouted in agitation. "But… once it's gone…" …it's gone for good, there's no one left to re-open it-- His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Squall appeared before him, gloved hands lifting and shaking the SeeD by his vest.

"Help me!" The former mercenary captain's eyes were wild. "Tell them to move!"

"I, I can't, Squall—" Zell felt the knight release him, turning to Irvine instead.

"Damn you! Help me!" Squall's left hand was raised to his forehead in a magic-drawing position. "Give me your spells! I'll blast it away!"

Irvine backed away from the frantic knight. "I can't, Squall, our magic is gone!"

This can't be happening! This can't be happening! He could feel her slipping away. The rift in time was closing! The beast within him thrashed and clawed at the walls of his body; its prison. You're going to be left alone again! You're going to lose her again! "NOOO!!" It took all of Squall's will to keep his gunblade from cleaving the man, whose hand fell upon his shoulder, in half.

Laguna's eyes were calm. "I'll help you, Son." His right fingers encircle the wrist of the hand he had laid upon his child. Head bowed, Laguna summoned the long-disused magic from within himself.

Before the yellow swirls of the Aura spell had faded from the air, the air around the knight was already humming from the energy channeling through his body. "Stand back." He forced the words though teeth gritted with effort. Then, for an instant, he allowed his gaze—not angry, not cold, not anything false—to meet Laguna's. "Thank you." The whisper was too quiet to be heard, but Laguna understood everything it implied, nonetheless.

Light not from the occluded sun sparkled from the battered gunblade as Squall raised it above his head.

"Keep an eye on those cross-winds for me, please, Kiros." Selphie didn't allow her eyes to leave the displays before her for an instant as she gently tapped at the Ragnarok's manual control yoke. One iota too far this way and they'd bump into the remains of Galbadia garden—sending everyone outside plummeting into the churning seas. A hairsbreadth too much correction that way, and the entire spaceship might be transported a thousand years into the past or future—who knew?!

Kiros, complying with the request, felt a hand on his shoulder. "What is it, Ward?" The powerful silent man's grip tightened, commanding immediate attention. Kiros turned to look. "Uh, Miss Tilmitt… you might want to brace yourself against something…"

Selphie couldn't look up. "Huh? What are you talking abo—"

Squall dropped his weapon and the thundering energy of the Blasting Zone bit into the Ragnarok.

Evening had fallen in Esthar, but one would hardly know it, so brilliant was the sky with fireworks celebrating the destruction of the Lunatic Pandora. The huge blue mushroom-shaped buildings of downtown Esthar positively sparkled with nearly every light burning as revelers danced in the streets and cheered at the spectacular display in the sky above.

Occasionally, the aerial explosions would pause while the skyburst tubes were reloaded, but the crowds hardly noticed, so busy was everyone exclaiming over the many facets of life that suddenly seemed all the more sweeter now that they had been spared the horror of another plague of deadly monsters.

It was during one such pause that the crowds fell silent, for there—high in the skies above Esthar—appeared a great finger of light, stretching completely across the vault and disappearing into the east. The silence was short lived, however, as the people fell to cheering this strange new brand of firework, never realizing that the powerful beam originated from a point hundreds of miles to the west.

Laguna wanted to say something. He wanted to shout one last word as the knight sprinted up the slope toward the smoking hole carved in the tailfin of the Ragnarok, but he remained silent for fear of breaking Squall's concentration.

The black boots left the peak of the tilting wall. The dark knight sailed through the air. For anyone else—for anyone not imbued with the power of their sorceress—the jump would have been impossible. For Squall, it was not. Stretching, stretching—it was nearly beyond his grasp—but not quite.

Everyone knew he couldn't make it. Everyone groaned in despair as the knight leapt through the demolished stabilizer, reaching for that shrinking gateway to another time. Everyone, that is, except Squall. His black-gloved finger brushed the outermost fringe of the portal as gravity transformed his leap into a plummet.

Despite the brilliant light assaulting his eyes, Zell force himself to watch as the knight and portal vanished in a burst of emerald. Abruptly, he was overcome with a wave of nausea as the world seemed to distort around him. Hunching forward, clutching at the terrible feeling inside himself, Zell spied Irvine and Laguna likewise stricken and retching. "What—what is this?" The blond mercenary gasped.

With an inaudible SNAP, time slipped before anyone could answer.

…

It was not like before. The chaos into which Squall found himself tossed was like nothing he had ever experienced. This time, there was no featureless void, no empty desert, no falling through flashes of the past and future. The knight felt as if he would be torn apart by the screaming maelstrom of shapes and colors around him, but the whirlwind of confusion was much more than that. Every sense was under assault. Smell, vision, touch, taste, hearing—Squall's mind was thrown into turmoil as his nerves seemed to explode. He was certain his arms were on fire, yet his chest seemed frozen. A horrid bitterness coated his tongue while the scent of flowers filled his lungs. The ocean whispered quietly into one ear while demons screeched into the other. Dozens of scenes flashed before each eye, juxtaposed on one another in an insane kaleidoscope of impossible images. Still, one thing remained constant—his awareness of Rinoa. She was near, somewhere, sometime, she was…

More real than all but the sense of his sorceress, Squall felt something strike him in the chest, and with the contact, Rinoa vanished.

Squall screamed into the chaos. Only, it was no longer chaos. It was a orderly white room. A glistening tile floor reflected sterile white ceiling lights. In one corner, a matte gray steel door lay closed and locked, in the other, a strange machine. A few odd tables and cabinets and a robed and hooded figure stood near the doorway.

The device was the size of a large table and shaped like a giant's coffin. Dozens of lights blinked along the machine's sides, and its quiet humming filled the room. If one were to stand over the device and look down upon it, one would notice the small clear window set into its surface. Behind the window lay a pale figure; a strange man who's bulging eyes and sallow flesh gave him a distinctly fishlike appearance. The man's closed eyes flickered—much as they would in a dream-filled sleep.

Squall's knees hit the spotless floor with a thump. His breath left him in a scream of anguish so visceral it could only escape as silence. She was gone.

Rinoa! Oh god, Rinoa! He could think of nothing else. Wherever, whenever he was, she was not here. Knotted muscles strained to the breaking point and—no longer infused with supernatural power—began to tear as the knight's back arched in a physical manifestation of his anguish. The silence of the chamber was shattered by the gunblade's final round discharging as Squall unconsciously squeezed the trigger. A moment later, the firing pin bent and then broke under the pressure of his grip.

The same dead gray eyes that had not so much as blinked at the dark-jacketed man's appearance now watched impassively as he struggled to turn his weapon on himself. The blade shook violently as its owner drew its tip across his chest, not stopping until it lay directly over his heart. The twin orbs did, however, narrow against the brightness of the beam of light that suddenly transfixed the knight.

Of its own accord, Squall's gunblade flipped upright, tearing away from his heart and dragging him along—his hand locked to the trigger—as it arched into the air, then slammed down to the floor, imbedding itself in the tiles. You have failed your sorceress, Knight! Not words, so much as a feeling flowed through the gunblade and into Squall. Lightning bolts of damnation crackled up the length of the weapon and arced into the knight's body. You could not protect her. She is dead. Squall could feel himself dying even as he squeezed the gunblade tighter. If only he could hold on long enough, perhaps this judgment would kill him. Rinoa died because of you. Squall's head was thrown back, electricity sparked between his bared teeth. The agony of the judgment was unbearable, but the knowledge of his failure was far worse. There was only one way to end them both.

Never has a failed knight been granted mercy. The blast that threw Squall clear of his gunblade shattered the tiled floor even as the room's light bulbs exploded in showers of sparks. The knight was cast into a far corner of the room like an unwanted rag doll. There he lay, wisps of smoke rising from his ravaged body. No tears could be squeezed from the rusted ball bearings that had replaced his eyes, no words could be forced from the leathery sacks that had replaced his lungs. Nothing but hopelessness, sorrow, and despair remained to fill the bloodless hole where his heart had once beat.

The knight was motionless now, yet there was still movement in the room. A red diode flashed from the top of the coffin-shaped apparatus and the device began to whir. With a whooshing sound, jets of steam accompanied the opening of a large hatch in the top of the machine. A moment later, the man inside sat up. He took in the chaos of the room with a dispassionate glance before committing to egression from the device. He was a strange-looking creature—barely recognizable as a man. His sallow fishlike features were only accentuated by his considerable height and girth. The man had large pale hands—they almost looked like flippers—and short stubby legs. Overall, the evolved Norg bore astonishing resemblance to the original.

"Hrrrhmph! Well, well. The troublemaker himself has finally arrived." The man waved his hands in the air as he addressed the fallen knight.

Squall's only reaction was to continue stareing emptily at the floor.

The fishlike man cleared his throat before speaking. "Hrrmmph! I must say, though your appearance is not altogether unexpected, your timing is impeccable." Norg's soft features twisted into a grin. "You see, I was just about to make sure that little witch would never have the opportunity to meddle in my affairs."

Squall's right index finger might have twitched.

"Bhrrump! That's right, SeeD four-seven-oh-three, she's still alive sometime." Norg waved a hand dismissively. "But not for long." Norg turned his back on the knight. "You know, it's strange how things work out. I can see that, from your time, I must have already killed the sorceress—otherwise you would not be here now—thus, I am assured of victory by your presence." The man clapped his flipper-like hands together. "And, as if that were not enough, you have been kind enough to remove yourself from my past in order to come here—sparing me the trouble of finding a way of killing you myself." Norg paused.

At last a thought battered its way through Squall's despair. Still alive some time… Something frigid slithered down Squall's arms. …still alive…alive…

Norg did not even turn as the knight exploded to his feet, screaming a battle cry and charging at the former Shumi. He merely smiled peacefully as the walls lit up and the room shook with the massive thunderbolt that blasted Squall back into the corner when his hand touched the gunblade. "Oh yes, did I forget to mention that I know all about your judgment, SeeD? I'm probably more knowledgeable than you, in fact." Another scream, another charge, another thunderbolt. "What do you think I've been doing with myself all this time?" Now Norg did turn to face the knight. Squall was struggling to his feet a third time. "I've studied you humans…" a slight twist of the lip, "…or should I say, 'us humans'? I know all about your foolish rituals, laws, even your mythology. I know how helpless you are without your sorceress." He tapped a finger to his forehead. "But I also know just how difficult—impossible even—it is for a normal person to kill a knight." He laughed—a hard cruel sound—as Squall's third attempt to grasp his gunblade sent the knight flying backward in a shower of sparks. "Suicide, on the other hand…"

The robed figure near the door stood silently.

Squall wasn't sure he could get to his feet a fourth time, but he didn't care. Every part of his body was screaming for him to stop, but other pains were nothing compared to the torment of his soul. "I… can still… save… her." He panted.

"Harrrumb! Not likely." The man's eyes narrowed slightly. "You know, I've even learned to utilize humor—like you humans." Norg folded his arms. "Here's a joke for you; How do you drive a Knight crazy enough to kill himself?" Squall reached for his weapon once again. "Give up?" Norg blinked at the lightning that smashed the knight's body away. "Why, you murder his sorceress, of course. Har! har!" The man's prodigious belly shook as he chortled.

Impossibly on his feet again, Squall shunned the gunblade, stumbling toward the former Shumi, hands held before him, fingers curled like claws. "I'll… tear you apart… with my bare hands… if I have to."

The pale man backed away from the advancing knight. "Hrrrummph. You'll ruin all the fun now." snapping his fingers, he shouted: "Dahyte."

Squall felt his shoulder creak as his arms were suddenly wrenched behind his back. Someone with a grip of iron slammed him against the wall. "Hold still!" A disturbingly familiar voice rasped in his ear. The knight managed to turn his head, catching a glimpse of his assailant. The robed figure in the corner was no longer robed, nor still. Squall's eyes widened in disbelieving recognition. "The Fa—?" His words were silenced by a stunning blow to the base of his skull that left black spots swimming before his eyes. His breath left his lungs as a vicious kick to the backs of his knees dropped the knight to the floor.

Norg smiled in approval. "Bhrrhb. Good. I knew there was a reason I kept you around all these years." He folded his arms once more. "Now, let's see just how invincible a knight really is; tear him apart, mercenary." The man's fleshy features bunched as he bared his teeth in a snarl. "This one has been more trouble to me than any other! I want you to divide him into seven pieces. Then, I want those pieces burned and the ashes sealed and buried in seven different countries." Norg spat the last phrase. "Make sure this one never troubles me again!"

Slowly, the monster backed away from the crumpled knight. "As you wish." Dahyte threw her arms down to her sides, long, sharp claws bursting from her fingertips. Serrated, knife-like ridges of bone appeared from between the scales on her forearms. The spikes on her shoulders, hips, and calves straightened. For a moment, she stood, staring down at Squall.

Then she turned toward Norg.

Stumbling backward as the monster approached, Norg cried: "Bushururu! W-what are you doing!?" His flipper-like hands fumbled for the sidearm in his belt. "Sniper, complete your mission!"

Dahyte was upon the former Shumi before he could draw his weapon. "I am." She raised a clawed hand high over the terrified man.

…

"Dahyte?" She jerked awake. For a moment, the sniper thought she was blind, then her fingers broke through the caked blood sealing her eyelids shut. "Dahyte?" Quistis's voice was almost loud enough to be a whisper.

It was impossible, but Quistis was still alive—not only was she still alive, but she was also conscious. Again, the old, old sensation—unfamiliar after so many years of disuse—assailed the sniper; the aching of tears springing to her gritty eyes. "Yes, Quistis?"

"How is Hal doing?" The SeeD lay motionless in the arms of the Galbadian soldier.

Dahyte looked up at the seated form of the commando. His face was gray behind the mask. His eyes were closed and no breath passed his white lips. "He's okay." Dahyte was careful to keep out of the SeeD's field of view as salty tears—mixed with blood—trickled down her cheeks. She could see the tubes Hal must have quietly attached to Quistis's suit from his own. His mask was lightless—cold and dead. Hal's finger still rested upon the system purge button—where it had forced the last of his reserve power and air into Quistis's suit. It's so unfair! It's so terribly unfair! It should have meant something—this final gesture. It should have saved her! It should have saved them both! I am the one who should die out here! But the planet was still a tiny speck in the escape pod's only window. It would be days before their journey would be complete, but Quistis's would end in a few hours.

"Dahyte?" The almost-silent voice spoke again.

"Quistis, please, save your air. We're almost home." The sniper lied.

Quistis ignored her plea. "Your mission is to kill him, isn't it?"

Though she did not say who 'he' was, Dahyte immediately knew whom Quistis was speaking of. "Yes."

"Please don't, Dahyte. Please." Every word seemed to be fainter than the last. "He and… he and Rinoa should be happy together. I-if I could wish for one thing to come out of this… it would be that, Dahyte."

The sniper was silent.

"Please, Dahyte…" Quistis had nothing else she could say.

The pause stretched into eternity. Not this too, Quistis. Please, not this too. Ask me to give my life so you can live, ask me to destroy nations or rebuild gardens, but please, don't ask me to save his life. Please don't ask me to give you peace. But the request stood. At last, the sniper replied. "Very well."

…

Norg howled as the monster's claws pierced his flesh. Blood spurted from severed arteries as Dahyte slashed at him. The screaming and wet sounds of rending flesh lasted quite some time, for Dahyte did not hurry to dispatch the former Shumi. She let him suffer. She left his vision so he could watch her tearing his entrails out. She did not relish the killing, nor did she enjoy the pain of the doomed man, she simply let him suffer. Not troubling herself to hasten his death.

Eventually, Norg did die. With one final gurgle, his shivering body keeled over backwards, blood seeping from great gouges torn in his soft flesh. Gore sloughed from her claws as they retracted back into their sheaths in Dahyte's fingers and she turned to Squall. "Your sorceress lives on in your time, knight Leonhart."

Squall had not moved from where he had fallen. His voice was a ghost of a whisper. "I can't feel her." It was true, the hole inside of him remained empty and dark.

Dahyte's brow twitched, but she said nothing. Instead, the monster the sniper had become over the years that had passed since the historic battle between Esthar and Galbadia and the destruction of G-Garden turned to the device from which Norg had emerged. Kneeling beside the coffin-shaped machine, she popped a small hidden cover off the bottom of the device with her clawed fingers. As the monster perused the instructions engraved into the tiny metal plaque set into the secret compartment, resentment stirred within her breast. So many people giving so much for one love, two lives. How can it be worth all their sacrifices?

…

"What are you talking abou—Yeeek!" Suddenly, the floor seemed to drop out from beneath Selphie, Kiros, and Ward as the spacecraft was shaken by a massive impact. At the same time, the console lit up like a Christmas tree and a half-dozen alarms began clamoring for her attention. As the space plane bucked wildly, the short SeeD grabbed the control yoke, doing her best to damp out the oscillations from the unexpected jolt. "What the heck happened!?" She shouted.

Clinging to the back of the navigator's chair, Kiros replied. "The right rear stabilizer's been holed. We're losing hydraulic pressure in the control lines, I'm switching us to electric auxiliaries." He reached forward even as Selphie repeated her question.

"What the heck happened to us?!" She yanked back on the increasingly unresponsive controls, hauling the nose of the spacecraft up.

Kiros's had just taken a breath to respond to the SeeD when the slip occurred.

The alarms were silent, the console showed only green lights, and Selphie's face was as white as her knuckles as she held the controls in a death grip, the momentary sensation of terrible vertigo causing her to automatically haul the yoke back and twist it to the right. The spacecraft continued to hover sedately—the autopilot still engaged.

"The hell…?!" A familiar voice exclaimed from behind Selphie.

She turned. Laguna, Zell, and Irvine were all standing at the rear of the flight deck. Their faces betraying various states of confusion.

"…was that?!" Belatedly, Zell finished his sentence.

No one answered. Instead, Irvine pointed out the cockpit window. "The garden!"

Everyone's head turned to follow the sharpshooter's finger. A few hundred yards off the nose of the Ragnarok, the tip of the highest sail of Galbadia Garden slipped beneath the debris-filled water.

Laguna steadied himself on the back of the flight engineer's chair. "Squall made it through. He's gone back in time and changed something."

"So where is he?" Irvine's rifle—like Laguna's machine gun—hung from his hand, forgotten in the confusion. The sharpshooter turned to Zell, automatically sliding his weapon into its holster. "If Squall's gone back in time, shouldn't he be here right now?"

Zell slowly shook his head. "I don't know…" Again, a thought was stirring at the back of his mind. What is it? Something… something here doesn't make sense… something to do with that man who shot Rinoa… and the one who tried to assassinate Squall in Deling. Zell scratched his head. Who were those people? We'd never seen them before. What did they know? Why were they trying to kill either Squall or Rinoa…?

As usual, the others assumed Zell's silence was born of an absence of knowledge and began talking amongst themselves, trying to figure out where the gunblade specialist could be.

There's a connection here… "That's it!" Zell exclaimed, startling everyone huddled together on the flight deck. "Squall didn't go into the past! He went into the future! He went to stop… Norg! Rachel, or Sera, or whoever she was said it was Norg who was possessing people! Of course!"

"Uh, Okay…" Laguna gave the blond SeeD a cross-eyed expression.

Irvine, Selphie, Kiros and Ward were equally confounded. "Huh?"

Zell raised his hands. "Oh yeah, I didn't have a chance to tell you guys; those people… well, jeeze, a lot of people, Norg used Ultimecia's machine to control their minds and—"

"Woa, slow down, Tiger? Which people?" Irvine's brow furrowed.

Selphie grimaced. "What do you mean, Norg? Didn't we take care of him a long time ago?"

Laguna was thoroughly befuddled again. "Who are you guys talking about?"

Kiros placed a hand on his friend's shoulder as he leaned forward to listen to the conversation. "Mr. President, please be quiet. I'll explain it to you as soon as they finish."

Zell was shaking his head as he tried to answer all their questions at once. "All the people that were trying to kill either Squall or Rinoa, the second sniper in Deling, Headmaster Cid—" He stopped short at Selphie's horrified expression.

"Omigod! Rinoa! I forgot!"

The room was cold, empty, and frighteningly silent. It wasn't the silence of space, and it wasn't the silence of—she shivered involuntarily—the tomb, for there was a quiet background of the spacecraft's white noise. It's the silence of emptiness. "Where is everybody?" Rinoa's voice seemed strangely quiet in the Ragnarok's passenger lounge. She sat up on the reclining seat—it had been stretched out like a dentist's chair. Or a mortician's examining bench. The sorceress's fingers traced an invisible outline on the seat's cover. What am I looking for? A vision of the chair, stained with blood, flashed before her eyes and vanished. Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her chest, to the fabric above her heart. The cloth was smooth, untouched. What—? She didn't have a chance to finish the thought; at just that instant, the door to the lounge swished open, and three noisy SeeDs burst into the room.

Rinoa was delighted to see them, and she made this clear by trying to throw her thin arms around all three friends at once. The silence of the room was replaced by a happy babble of voices. The sorceress couldn't understand why they were crying—even Irvine's eyes looked moist—until she felt the tears rolling down her own cheeks, dripping down into the corners of her joyful smile. "What happened?" She finally managed to gasp.

The enthusiastic responses were impossible to understand. Zell was practically dancing around the room as he shouted a re-enactment of some epic battle or narrow escape. Irvine's gestures were no less restrained, and Selphie was bouncing up and down with delight as she added her voice to the cacophony. It didn't matter that Rinoa couldn't comprehend what they were saying, one thing was evident; it was over. They had won. Everything was going to be okay.

Then, she dark-haired sorceress asked the question that returned silence to the room. "Where's Squall?"

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