Disclaimer: Don't own anything!

Author's Note: I just realized how long this story is. The chapters are probably going to be a bit longer from now on and I'm going to try and get to the point. I don't want to break 100 chapters.

I'm planning on going to see Real Steel sometime this weekend since it looks really good and who doesn't love fighting robots? It's why Transformers made so much money.

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Great ideas need landing gear as well as wings.
~C.D. Jackson

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They're woken by a loud hiss of a whisper. They were alert in an instant, hands flying to blades kept beneath pillows and beside the beds as they blink through the cobwebs that lace sleep. A familiar blonde head hovered in the darkness and they replaced their weapons with sleepy grumbles.

"Somethin' wrong, Mithos?" Yuan asked, arm over his eyes, resigning himself to being awake. From what he could hear, Kratos was still fighting the battle to get away from sleep's wonderful clutches.

"I was thinking."

"So that was that burning smell."

"Would you let me finish?"

"You had to have this epiphany now? Couldn't it wait until a decent hour?"

"That's the point of an epiphany, Yuan." Kratos pointed out. "It happens suddenly."

"But he doesn't need to know that. And why're you on his side? I'm trying to get us more sleep."

"Guys." Mithos knew if he didn't say something, they'd keep going, sleepy or not.

Two pairs of sleep-blurred eyes—one blue, the other red-tinged brown—locked on him. "So what's this idea of yours?"

"Viren said something about us not having the manpower to take on the ranches, right?" They nodded. "This is gonna sound crazy—"

"We're used to it by now."

"…Do you think that the Summon Spirits actually exist?"

Yuan sat up abruptly at that. He was used to Mithos making mental jumps that left the rest of them wondering how he got from point A to point K, but this was beyond point K. This was like point V. "What?"

Mithos shifted, chin tilted defensively. "Answer the question."

"I dunno, I guess." Yuan had never had to think about this. Summon Spirits existed. Period. Or, that was the way he was raised. He'd never thought about the actual physical possibilities of it.

Mithos' eyes slid to Kratos, who seemed to genuinely be thinking about it. Then again, Yuan thought, he hadn't been raised with it; he hadn't known the tradition of going to temple once a week and lighting the candles for lost loved ones, the candles that, it was said, the Sylph saw and would guide those lost back home. To Kratos, the Summon Spirits had been near-forgotten remnants of a religion that humans didn't believe in anymore, names and celebrations still lingering, but little else.

"…I think they could." Kratos said, half-turned and leaning on an elbow. "Where're you going with this?"

"I read in them mage books—"

"Those." Yuan-and-Kratos said without thinking. "Those mage books."

"Those mage books," Mithos repeated dutifully. "That there were people who could make—I think they called them pacts. Yeah that sounds right—pacts with Summon Spirits. They could control that kind of magic. And-and it fits with all the stories."

Kratos frowned. "Which stories?"

"The constellation ones." Mithos rounded on Yuan. "You told Martel a story of an orphan left to Efreet, right?"

"Yeah…"

"That orphan was said to have all the powers of Efreet. What if the story changed somewhere over the centuries? What if he wasn't left there? What if that orphan was a summoner?"

"Mithos, that's a longshot if I've ever seen one."

"But if it's real, then we can free those people and maybe even make a real difference in this war."

Kratos sat up fully, crossing his legs and swiping his hair irritably out of his face. "Mithos…what happens if this doesn't work? Did you ever think about that?"

"I-I thought that there could be another way. This war—it can't go on forever."

"All evidence to the contrary." Yuan muttered.

(The newspapers had always been there, saying things about the war that he never knew. The photos had always been there, showing the same faces, smiling and innocent and unblooded. His mother, always having her days. All the men in the village, always gone. Away at the war. His aunts—and they're not really related, but they're all he has in that category—always gossiping about war brides and how long it would be until someone came back. They never talked about someone never coming back)

"Things can change." Mithos insisted, as stubborn as ever. Martel was always saying that Mithos learned his stubbornness from Kratos, but she knew as well as they did that he'd learned it from her.

"I hope you're right, kid."