Seravine - Chapter Five

Author's Note: Gah. Can anyone please explain to me why I'm still doing artsy posterboard projects as a Junior in High School?! &$#!

Ahem. My apologies for the delay on this chapter; it's been about three weeks since I've updated, but, on the bright side, this is the longest chapter yet, even though I'm entirely unhappy with it. I've been writing and rewriting this one for so long I've just about given up hope; this is the most recent edit, obviously, and by this point I frankly hate the thing, so here it is, in its extended glory.

It's not that bad, honestly, it's mainly just that there are certain aspects of it that I don't think were very well-written. Oh well - I'll let you be the judge of that, gentle reader, and as such I would be very much grateful if you would review!

That one guy: Yes, five is a tad bit insane. I probably shouldn't mention I'll be taking even more next year, eh? : ) I'm sorry the last chapter was a bit difficult to follow; hopefully this one will be a bit of a smoother read, though I'm also willing to blame it on your sister, heh. ; ) And don't worry about the three reviews -- like many authors, I'm not picky about where I get my comments, so the more reviews, the better, right?

The Unknown Warrior 11: Thank you! I'm glad it is a bit spooky, to be honest, as that's what I've been going (and will continue to do so in the next chapters). And yes, Lloyd will have a rather difficult time with this -- but when has anything been easy for the poor guy so far? : ) I like the fellow, I really do...

FireEdge: Thank you -- scary is the goal I had in mind with that one, so I'm infinitely glad to hear that I managed to pull it off. Thanks for reading!

jellybeanz225: Thank you for the compliments on the writing -- that means a lot to me, given how much effort it requires to put pen to paper and then let (hopefully) many people read it, criticize it, and possibly flame it. : ) I'm glad to read you don't mind triangles, really, though I will be taking an active effort to make Colette less annoying and a bit more useful, so perhaps you'll dislike her a bit less. And reactions to the jewel in question are coming; stay tuned!

Avari, wind seer: I'm glad you stumbled too. ; ) Thank you very much for the review; it always does my heart (and ego) well to read that others like what I write. Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter as much as you enjoyed the previous ones!

That's all of them, I believe. One more thing: I ask that you please don't forget that the romance in this story is going to be primarily a triangle of sorts, as certain events in this chapter will undoubtedly seem to point in the direction of one pairing rather than the other. Granted, I'm only just reaching the halfway point of the story's plot, so there is plenty of time for the romantic subplot to twist and turn. ; )

Thank you for reading -- and please review!

oOo

The tips of his fingers traced lazily across the glass -- up, down, left, right, intricate patterns atop the morning mist, circles and squares and all of those other shapes that never quite came to an end. An Iselia dawn was very much one to remember, all rosy and dark with only those first touches of sun, and Lloyd almost smiled at the sight, knowing it would not be long before the hustle and bustle of the village came to show. This was his favorite time, minutes before morning, when he was alone with the wind and the silence and that subtle mention of black sky giving way to just another day.

His hand fell, eventually, pulling back from the window, and he turned slowly to sit with a sigh at the schoolhouse table, not having even the strength to marvel at the vast improvements Colette had worked in her short time of teaching. The newly-crafted lounge had even become his living quarters, at least temporarily, though Lloyd could not be bothered to make it a tad more comfortable, opting instead to avoid his new home at all costs. Tables, chairs, and bookcases, looking pert and new, encircled the couch he had utilized many a night to sit upon with his head in his hands, watching the hours crawl by, a ritual which had left him in an exhausted sort of wakefulness, never entirely awake and yet never entirely unaware, either, when the sun came at last to call.

Standing to moving tiredly towards the door, he eased it open and slipped out of the room, heading down the hallway, fully intent on stepping outside for a bit and letting the chill air ease away his fatigue. Lloyd had only just made it to the door when a familiar voice rang out into the corridor, turning him on his heels.

"Lloyd?"

He poked his head around the nearest doorway. "Morning, Professor."

Raine, looking the very idea of a teacher with a pair of spectacles perched upon her nose, set her book aside and motioned him in, waiting until he had slumped gracelessly into one of the chairs before moving to speak. "You're up rather early, aren't you?"

Lloyd only shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," he said, not bothering to go much further in detail.

The older woman appeared only vaguely convinced. "Mmm-hmm. And how long has this lasted?"

He couldn't see much of a point to lying. "Three days," he said, softly, fully expecting the rather frightening Raine reprimand, yet receiving quite the opposite.

Rather unexpectedly, Raine's face softened, her eyes taking on that first hint of concern, and she leaned forward a bit across the tabletop, studying him. "You shouldn't do this to yourself, Lloyd," she said, gently, her often frosty exterior momentarily relaxed.

"It's not like I can help it," he said, a bit sullenly, failing miserably at trying to suppress a yawn. "You don't have a potion or anything, do you?" he asked, struck with the sudden idea.

Raine shook her head. "Not one I would ever considering giving you. They're much too risky for cases such as yours."

"Oh," Lloyd said, momentarily disappointed. "Wait -- what do you mean, cases such as mine?"

"The recent events, naturally, are resulting in your insomnia," Raine said, rather as if the answer was completely obvious. "It's likely you are afraid of sleeping, perhaps subconsciously, and waking up to yet some other nightmare."

Lloyd merely blinked. "And you figured this out how?"

Raine sighed. "I'm well aware you've been garnering some sleep, of course, likely unintentionally. Have you been having strange dreams, perchance?"

"Well, yeah, I think -- " he paused, frowning, striving to throw off his fatigue and reach deep into his memories. There was a few images, here and there, of a forest, and a boy, but little more, and Lloyd eventually gave up with a shake of his head, though not without the feeling that he was missing something rather important. "I can't remember any of them."

"That's perfectly normal."

"Yeah, I know," Lloyd said, leaning back a bit in his chair and stifling a yawn. "Still, I wish I didn't always forget."

The look on Raine's face was entirely much too shrewd. "Are you certain of that?"

"What?"

"Are you certain you want to remember?" she asked, still strangely serious, the corners of her lips quirked with the hint of a frown.

"Yeah, of course," Lloyd said, more than a tad perplexed. "Why wouldn't I?"

"They may reveal things you do not wish to know," Raine said, and, seeing him still look utterly confused, elaborated. "There are a number of details involving Dirk's death that do not quite make sense."

"Oh," Lloyd said, softly, sitting straighter in his chair, though his eyes never once left hers. "Is that what this is about, then?" he asked, somewhat surprised at the sharp tone to his voice.

"Forgive me, Lloyd," the professor said, raising a hand in complacence. The contours of her face softened, then, and Lloyd allowed himself to relax, though that straight seriousness was still about her eyes. "But do you remember what happened after the second floor collapsed?"

Lloyd was silent, then, darting back into his mind, pushing past the fire and the pain, coming eventually to the point where he had blacked out not longer after finding his father. He realized gradually that the older woman was right -- a few things didn't add up, in their own way, the most important of which forcing its way to his lips. "How did I get out?"

Raine smiled, humorlessly, and nodded. "Very good. I'm afraid I can't answer the question, however."

"Weird," he said, still very much deep in thought. He had fallen, then, next to Dirk -- to awaken outside, quite far away from the danger, with no clear indication of how he had even made his way out. Lloyd curled his fists, almost subconsciously, feeling rather disgusted with himself. "Damn, I didn't think about any of that. I couldn't get past Dad -- " and then that sick image of his father's cold face swam into view, forcing its way to the front of his mind, and slowly his hands unclenched, his eyes lowering to the table.

"I'm sorry," Raine said, her voice soft once more. "I know this must be very hard for you."

Lloyd said nothing, at first, staring at his own reflection in the freshly-polished tabletop, not quite caring for the gaunt and haggard look draped below his eyes. He was not nearly so churlish as to refuse their concern, of course, knowing that he should fully appreciate the fact that they cared, but, in the same instance, it was growing steadily more difficult to ignore those damnable flashes of pity he would catch whenever he truly cared to sit back and watch. "Thank you," he said, at last, with a grave sort of calm.

"What is that?" Raine asked abruptly, and Lloyd realized with a start that he had taken to fiddling with the pouch still tucked neatly into his belt.

"This?" he asked, lifting it up and laying the thing somewhat hesitantly across the table. "Take a look."

Raine stretched a few graceful fingers to grasp it, dumping its contents onto her palm, and Lloyd watched with an unknowing anxiety as the jewel came to the open. It looked much as he remembered it, all black and fire and cold, and he winced, raising a hand to rub at his forehead -- there was an unpleasant sort of buzzing, a rumbling against the back of his mind, and he shook his head, thinking to clear it, though the noise only worsened.

"Marvelous," Raine murmured, trailing her fingers across the surface, and Lloyd glanced briefly up to see her hold it towards the window, where only the most daring rays of sunlight pierced the glass, stretching out across the room and across the jewel, tumbling over the black gleam. The professor seemed entirely enthralled with the thing, turning it this way and that, her brow furrowed in thought, completely ignoring him.

"I've never seen such a thing," she continued, gazing intensely at the jewel, at least for a moment, before letting her gaze fall towards the monstrous bookcase. "Nor have I read of it in my books -- "

He would have laughed, maybe, recognizing her instinctive Ruin-Mode, but there was none of the normal humor to the idea; that gem was still shining and shimmering and Lloyd suddenly wanted very much to take it back, to throw it back into its pouch, to forget it, to go lay down -- and then that noise was only louder, shutting his ears to the world, and he realized with a cold sort of panic that he couldn't hear, that Raine's gentle murmurs had faded against the rattling, and even his own breathing had been entirely eclipsed. It was only strengthening, getting louder, nearly forcing him to his knees, and in a pained daze he pushed his chair back from the table and lurched out of the chair, only just managing to stay on his feet, and at last Raine had noticed, though no sound came across the room, no question from her lips.

"Professor," Lloyd said, through gritted teeth, screwing his eyes shut against the pain. That damn buzzing was tearing against his skull, only kicking up in volume, and he could almost make sense of it now, make sense of the screams -- and the room was spinning and Raine was rushing to his side, the jewel dropped rudely to the table, and then all was blank and for the longest second he couldn't feel a thing.

oOo

Black.

That was the only word for it; that strange sense of emptiness throwing a shadow atop his footsteps, mirroring his jaunt through the crowd, that thick mass, gray in all regards of color and taste, set in a silent circle about the scaffold. They were a somber sort of people, with eyes trained only towards the noose, and for only the shortest minute they barred him further passage, blocking his strides with their own.

"Let me through!" he cried, and the crowd fell apart, cleaving unto two and forming a winding path. He hurried amongst them, sparing the blank faces no single glance, his footsteps sounding alone across the cobblestone. It was quiet, in every sense of the word, for this crowd gave no voice, and his breathing stood alone in winter's dusk. "Let me pass!"

And there was the body, swinging to and fro, wrapped about in the rope and hanging limply in the gallows. His cry rose sharply into the winds and he broke into a jagged sprint, dashing up the stairs, falling short only a few steps from the corpse. For one long breath he moved to touch it, to take the cold skin under his fingers, and then he fell back, letting that familiar fear latch into his veins. It was so wrong -- so strangely wrong, that they had slain this man, taken just another life under the rope, and already it was too late and absolutely nothing could be changed.

"What has this man done?" he roared, turning to the crowd, and, perhaps for the first time, they turned and appeared to notice him. "Will you throw this life away?" Then came only silence, a thick end to his words, and he turned back to the body, feeling the broken tears trailing down his cheek.

"Father," he murmured, taking the cold palm and raising it to his lips. "Forgive them," he said quietly, twisting the pale flesh beneath his fingers, "and I shall forgive you." There was so much to say -- and so very little words for the task, try as he did to bring those secrets to his lips. And already the moment had passed, for the crowd was shifting, slinking away, and then the sun had fallen and he stood alone on that scaffold, cradling the corpse's head to his breast.

"Why did you leave?" he asked, twice, and held the white face tighter, trying not to shake. At length he lifted the form free and gazed upon it, taking in the empty eyes, and only then did he step away and leave the body in its noose, realizing perchance for the first time that this man had long been taken away. "Why am I alone?"

Unfair. That was all he could think; it was so utterly unfair that everything should have been stolen away from him, everything should have fallen to this red-stained rope, and almost savagely he took the knife from his belt and sawed at the noose, not stopping until his hands were bleeding and his father's corpse hit the deck with a thud. It was all so very surreal, even then, that this warrior of a man should have submitted to the gallows, and something so very strange about the smile that played across the blue lips.

"Damn you," he whispered, and fell to his knees, the dagger flung to the side. In a sick anger he seized the white throat and tightened his grip, feeling a fleeting pleasure in the pale flesh beneath his hands, and he cradled and strangled this man until the moon had long risen -- and only then did he see the slight tremble to the lips, and a strange and fearful joy seized his heart.

"Father!" he cried, releasing his grip, and almost smiling in the imprint of his thumbs against the cold skin.

The head snapped up and its eyes were cold, strange and black, and there was a black trickle strolling down the lips. The mouth opened, slowly, revealing rows of red-rimmed teeth, and then it screamed, the cry piercing the heavens, and he could only fall back in horror as his father writhed, shook, and cried, the blood still raining down from his lips.

Desperate, he seized the dagger just to his side -- and without a second thought plunged it deep into the pale flesh, the pale heart, laughing as the warm metal sink into the skin. Already the night was winking, fading, and his father, still screaming, until, at last, the corpse fell still, and, once again, he was alone.

Black.

That was the only word for it.

oOo

"Lloyd!"

His eyes came open -- and there was Raine, pressing her hand across his forehead, looking the very thought of concerned, shaking him gently. "I'm up," he said, slowly, his voice hoarse. The room was spinning, rather unpleasantly, and he could feel only a sweeping nausea clamped about his heart. "I'm okay."

"Thank goodness," Raine said, closing her eyes a moment, then helping him to sit up and stumble into a chair. "You frightened me." Her skin had taken an even more prominent pallor and her eyes were soft, almost fragile, and Lloyd realized there was something akin to fear in those depths, something he had seen only rarely in his many years of knowing her.

"Sorry," Lloyd said, a bit shortly, blinking a bit and gazing around, finding himself once more in the Iselia schoolhouse. He felt oddly detached from it all; his senses were sharpening, gradually, settling back to normal, but there was a curious lapse somewhere along the line that forced him to put his head in his hands and work through his muddled thoughts. "What happened?" he asked, a minute later, recovered enough to face her and at last feel the warmth of the hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know," she said, softly, checking his forehead once more, her hand warm atop his skin. "You simply collapsed -- "

"RAINE!" The cry snapped her head towards the doorway, and Lloyd spun somewhat dizzily in his chair, his eyes soon locating the small figure huddled at the entrance to the room. Genis was bent double, struggling for breath, and a long line of blood fell from a nasty gash across his forehead. "Town square," the young boy panted, his eyes screwed shut, "huge monster!"

Lloyd was up and sliding his swords free in spite of the nausea still running rampant atop his stomach. "Monster?" he repeated, as Raine rushed towards Genis, murmuring a few words and checking her sibling's wounds.

"Hurry!" Genis said, brushing his sister away, for the first time standing straight and looking Lloyd square in the eyes. "Sheena's trying to protect everyone -- you've got to help her!" His words rung quiet and true, and even Raine turned, halting the spell at the tip of her tongue.

"Go."

Lloyd needed no second bidding; blades in hand he moved quickly for the doors, breaking them open with a savage kick and darting out into the street. There was that same strange silence -- no shouts, no screams, no young laughter or tears, and he took to the main path with speed, feeling a powerful dread sweeping about the back of his mind. How could this have happened? Why? It was so very strange -- and, then, another thought rose to mind, slinking forth from the shadows, and Lloyd almost hated himself for thinking it.

What next?

So much had happened, yes, so much had been torn in two, and maybe it was a natural thing, to wonder if there ever was some sort of respite, some sort of relief just beyond the horizon. Lloyd couldn't see it, try as he did, and every so often he would let himself wonder if this wasn't some god-awful dream, some terrible truth to wake up to and only remember in the throes of night. I wish.

There was only a house to go, then, and he ran past it at last, coming to the main square -- and then fell abruptly short, his footsteps wavering.

Chaos.

At last, Lloyd could hear those screams -- the townsfolk's cries as they came quickly across the road, not even stopping for those that stumbled and fell, and already that scent of blood was carried along the winds, whipping past him, carrying the feeble moans of those that had fallen. There was so much destruction; fires licked and frolicked along the housetops, throwing a deep smoke to the air, and Lloyd was flung forcibly back to that fire not so long ago, in a much different feeling, a much different place. Struggling to push away that fresh surge of nausea, he stood straight, sweeping his eyes across the square, noting with a clenching anger the corpses strewn carelessly across the dirt.

And there was the monster.

"Marble?" he whispered, faintly, for indeed it looked much like the woman in those final moments, the towering creature bathed in blood. But this was different; there was a sick strength to the thing, a crimson tint to its skin, and it stood easily above the fires, sweeping its fists in a red spiral. It stumbled, slowly, dragging awesome fists along the ground, sweeping its gaze back and forth, and Lloyd felt the first trickles of fear as the monster took notice at last of a young girl with a pink bow, bent low to the ground with her hand clutched to her chest. Sheena.

The monster was turning, facing the girl crouched just a few feet away, and with a guttural roar that tore through the momentary silence, it brought both fists to the side, preparing for the final blow.

Lloyd was already moving.

It struck him strange, then, how everything seemed so very clear -- the reddish stain to Sheena's clothing, the dust and the pain collected along her brow, and the cards strewn uselessly at her feet, all shapes and colors and all draped with dirt. There was a finality to her eyes, a calm acceptance of her fate, and only a single tear carving through the dirt across her cheeks, proud and strong and everything Lloyd was running to protect.

He would only just make it.

With a hint of satisfaction Lloyd shoved her, pushing her to the side, and he had one long glimpse of the surprise and fear in her eyes before the fists came raining forth. They connected with a sickening crunch, slamming him to the ground, seemingly breaking him in two; Lloyd could hardly move, reeling in the white fire lancing through his veins, and still he could only see Sheena's face, see the horror in her expression and the regret already written into her brow, and even so he could feel only relief, relief that he had saved her, and the cold hard pain tearing into his skin. He wanted to apologize -- to tell her he was sorry, to tell her to run and get help, and then there was another blow to his side that swept him clean off the ground, and he had a sick feeling of flight before crashing atop his knees.

There was only the pain, a thick rage storming about his blood, and slowly Lloyd moved, pushing himself forward, testing the strength remaining in his bones. The monster was there, not a few feet ahead, lumbering towards him, and Lloyd crawled painfully to his knees, biting back the agonized cry that leapt to his throat. He could only just move, dazedly bringing a hand to scrounge about in his belt, hoping to find something, anything, to turn the monster away -- and his fingers closed around something familiar, something he wasn't even aware he had, and then he felt only a dark hand lifting him to his feet. It was the jewel -- that black gem, back in its pouch, somehow, and Lloyd closed his hand about it, reveling in the strange power washing over his wounds. All at once the throbbing faded, the pain seemed swept away, and a terrible strength brought his swords to hand, and again he was moving, gliding easily across the ground, not even fully aware of what was happening.

Later, he would wonder just how he had managed to move so fast, to run with such speed and strength, given the crippling pain that had nearly broken him not a moment before. There was a strange vitality to his blood, setting him alive with an equally odd sort of fire; such a powerful adrenaline was nearly frightening, in its own way, but Lloyd could spare it no second thought.

Leaping, he twisted his body forward and brought his blades in a crimson arc, his roar ripping through the dust and the wind and bringing the monster to raise its fist for another swing -- and then only to fall back as Lloyd wrought two great slashes across its chest. Thinking quickly, he maneuvered to hit the ground in a roll, darting between the monster's legs and jutting up behind it to execute a neat whirl, feeling great satisfaction as the swords, glinting with a dark sort of fire, severed the thick muscle at the ankles. At once, the beast tottered, its legs giving away, and it fell forward with a rumbling groan, collapsing into the dust with a thud that nearly knocked Lloyd from his feet.

It was all over in an instant -- the monster's moans and groans echoed heavily through the dust, and the great form writhed and thrashed, unable to bring itself to its feet. Lloyd simply stood behind it, blinking in the dirt rushing by with the wind, and slowly sheathed his swords, feeling the great power and strength to his muscles ebb and fade.

He moved to stumble over to Sheena, finding the searing pain stepping up alongside an overwhelming weariness, to the point where he nearly collapsed into the dirt alongside his foe. She was still crouched, there, a hand to her chest, and Lloyd felt that familiar gnawing worry step up as he sunk to his knees beside her.

"Hey," he said softly, reaching a hand to gently touch her arm -- and only slowly did she look up, trembling, and abruptly threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. In a sort of nervous exhaustion he wound his own arms across her back, letting her cry, forcing himself to forget his pain for a moment and see this side of Sheena she only rarely let anyone see. He had always known there was more to her than the tough exterior, that she was someone probably not very different from himself, and as it was for the first time in so very long that he had seen her cry, he said little and just held her, still mindful of the beast moaning and twitching behind him.

Gradually, her cries stilled, and she pulled back almost roughly, averting her eyes and rubbing at them with a weak fury. She looked entirely displeased with herself, her shaking hands clenching and unclenching in fragile fists, and Lloyd could just nearly see that barricade she always carried being quickly rebuilt.

"No," Lloyd said, raising a hand once more and pulling her own fingers away. "Don't," he continued, blinking back the unsettling wave of pain raining across his skin. "Don't hide it."

She said nothing, still staring at the dirt, trembling.

"You're safe," he said, only partially aware of the words slipping free of his lips, fully intent on snapping her free of her tears. "I don't care if you don't want anyone to see you cry," he went on, somewhat rambling, taking her hands and holding them in his own. "No one is here. Just me."

Sheena nodded, slowly, and Lloyd brought a few fingers to lift her chin, gently forcing her to look at him. There was a tiny cut, settled just below her eye, and he brushed his thumb over it, carrying the blood away, finding her eyes damp and warm.

"It's just me," Lloyd said, slowly removing his hands. "It's just me."

"Okay," Sheena said at last, her voice dry and low, the word wavering in the dusty air.

He gave her a tired smile. "Good," he said, clasping her in a hug, and waiting until at length she stopped shaking and gave him a small smile. "That's my girl," he joked, and then winced, raising a hand to clutch his own side, where the shirt was sticky and smelt of blood.

"Lloyd," Sheena began, trailing off, her eyes dark and concerned. "I thought -- I thought you were dead," she admitted, in all reluctance, closing her eyes momentarily.

"So did I," Lloyd said, softly, his own eyes falling to the pouch still sitting at his belt. He was half-tempted to take that gem again, bring into his palm, and see what would happen; but then the memory of that terrible power floated to the surface and he quickly looked away, turning back to the monster behind him, not wanting to dwell on all of that what had happened.

He moved to stumble to his feet, more than once having to pause and let Sheena help him, finding himself almost robbed entirely of his strength -- of that fearful adrenaline he had felt not so long ago. And his wounds had slipped easily into their old fire, the white pain arching across his bones, and he had neither the want nor the inclination to marvel that he could even walk, in utter defiance to what he sure was a few cracked ribs, bruised spine, and no small number of cuts and gashes that rained blood atop the dirt.

The monster was still laying there, unable to lift itself from the dirt, groaning and thrashing, though it grew strangely quiet when Lloyd drew near. He watched it for a long while, sweeping his eyes across the powerful form, noting the deep gashes spread across its skin. It was such a great and ugly thing, gazing at him with only the blackest eyes, the fire-stained fists shifting slightly.

Fire.

Lloyd fell back in surprise, his strength wavering, blinking his eyes against the strange image that had torn across his mind. And the monster was still only staring, never once looking away, and he looked up to it with a odd sort of horror, thrown against his will to that time so long ago where Marble had done such a similar thing, had given her last words through such a monstrous roar.

Fear.

Shaking his head, Lloyd shut his eyes, raising a hand to his forehead -- that buzzing was starting anew, raining against his mind, and even now a dull pounding was nearly forcing him to his knees. Not again. It would do no good to lose control now, not until help came; the others -- Raine, Genis, where were they? That simple conversation this morning, back in the classroom, seemed so very long ago, back before this nightmare had come, back before Iselia had been torn in two.

Blood.

Slowly, he fell to one knee, gritting his teeth against the throbbing ache clashing about in his skull, and already he was growing numb, losing that stinging roar in his veins, such that he could only just feel that horrible sensation of his blood dripping down his skin. Not now," he murmured, faintly.

Dwarf.

Lloyd snapped his eyes back to the beast; instantly, a terrible suspicion grew into his thoughts, and he forgot that throbbing for a long second to watch the monster through weary eyes, wondering, somewhere, in the back of his mind, maybe, what he was being shown, and why.

Wall.

In an instant he could see that hole, that monstrous hole bathed in flame, back at his Dad's house, the hole no man could make -- and all at once it clicked, everything fell into place, and he realized with a surge of anger that this thing was the murder, the scum that had taken everything away.

Struggling to his feet, he realized somewhat belatedly that he was gasping, struggling for breath, and he made a visible effort to calm himself before stooping to scoop his swords from the dirt below. This was it -- that one moment where it all came to a close, where he would have to stain his blades, and, for the first time in his life, Lloyd was marginally surprised to find himself completely without remorse for what he had to do. There were so many unanswered questions, yes, but he couldn't be bothered to ask them, not when the only answer he could have ever wanted was stretched out in the dirt before him and watching with coal-black eyes.

Footsteps.

"No!" a voice cried, somewhere, and abruptly his hands were pinned to his sides, and he could feel warm breath just behind his ear. "Don't," the voice said, and Lloyd realized, gradually, that it was Sheena, who had guessed, somehow, what he had planned to do. "Please, Lloyd." Had she -- had she seen those images, those pictures, too?

"Let go," he said, his voice cold and strange, struggling his hardest and yet finding the girl's grip surprisingly strong.

"Leave it," Sheena said, softly, though still holding him tight. "Please, Lloyd -- let the others take care of this!"

"You don't understand!" Lloyd roared, almost reeling as the pure fury of his words echoed into the air. "I have to do this!" He pulled and fought, finding that damnable throbbing settling back in, and, try as he might, he could not break her grip.

Sheena simply held him tighter. "Your dad wouldn't want you to be a murderer," she said, gently, and Lloyd fell abruptly still, shaking.

"You don't understand," Lloyd said, again, his voice low and hoarse. "This -- this thing killed Dad."

Sheena's grip loosened, suddenly, perhaps from surprise. "How do you know?" she whispered, so quietly, and Lloyd realized with a start that maybe -- just maybe -- she was beginning to understand, beginning to recognize what he had to do.

"I just know," he said, still staring at it, finding the beast's eyes closed and its breathing slowed. Lloyd turned, slowly, to look his friend directly into the eyes. "It...showed me."

"I trust you, Lloyd," Sheena said, softly, and there was something so very similar to fear in her eyes.

"I know," he said, and with what he hoped was a confident smile, turned back, stepping forward just a bit and raising the tips of his swords in his usual stance. There was no longer that all-consuming anger, just a sense of need -- that was the only way to think of it, he knew. This was something he had to do, something entirely inevitable, and, with one last look into the dark eyes, he steeled himself for the task.

"Lloyd," Sheena's voice came, once again, tearing him from his thoughts, and he turned his head to find that they were all there -- all of the others, all of his friends, standing in a strange circle behind him.

Lloyd moved to face them, eventually, leaning heavily on his swords, not saying a word and at the same time utterly challenging every last one of them to stop him. He wanted to be angry, to forget them all and just do the damn deed, at least until he caught sight of Genis, those tears along his friend's cheeks, and he could only close his eyes, knowing exactly what the younger boy was seeing. He knew, then, that he did have a choice, one upon which seemingly everything rested.

Kill me.

Lloyd stiffened, feeling the monster's voice ring grotesquely in the air, and brushed roughly at the tears stinging against his eyelids. And they were all watching -- every last one of his friends simply stared, waiting for him to move, and he realized with a start that perhaps this was what it meant to be a leader, to make those decisions between life and death and know that those you hold close may hate you for it. It was a decision he didn't want to make.

"I trust you, Lloyd," Sheena said, quietly, so that only he could hear, and he turned to her in almost desperation, maybe hoping to find the answer. But she simply smiled, a smile he had seen not so long ago, and he had a brief recollection of a night seemingly ages past, with the moon and the stars and the little secret they'd made as the winds rushed through the trees. And suddenly the answer was so very simple; there was only one thing he could do, really, the best course of action for Sheena -- for all of them. Closing his eyes, he loosened the grip along his swords, letting them fall to the dirt.

"Resurrection."

The word rang hard and cold into the air, and Lloyd opened his eyes to watch with a mingled dread and relief as Raine stepped forward, her staff in hand. He had failed, maybe, lost his once chance of revenge, but then again he couldn't help but think that the choice had already been made so long ago, perhaps the moment he'd realized that he didn't have to make the decision alone.

The spell's warm light wrapped and bended, stretching itself over the beast, and the great form twisted and shrank, the powerful muscle fading, until the only thing left was human, until there was only a yellow dress, tears, and a single word set against Lloyd's lips.

He liked to think time stopped.

"Chocolat?"