The siren sound bled through the Villa walls, jolting Melia out of her light sleep. She leapt out of bed before her mind could process the noise. In less than a minute, she dressed, tied back her hair. Staff in hand, she ran out into the sitting room. And nearly collided with Dunban.

"I was just about to get you," he said, stepping out of her way. "What does the siren mean?"

She paused at the door. Her head cleared away the fog of instinct. "An attack on the city. I have to get to the Audience Chamber and… Father will tell me what I must do next."

Dunban secured his sword in its sheath on his belt. "I'll gather the others and meet you there. Will you be okay on your own?" He joined her at the door, taking just a moment to study her features.

"Yes," she said. Her fingers tightened around her staff. With her free hand, she shoved the door open. The hall outside was quiet. No guards. Then she turned back to him. "We don't know what sort of threat we're facing. Be careful."

"You too."

Her gaze trailed down to his arm, remembering the scars hidden beneath his sleeve. The scene beside Eryth Sea invaded her thoughts. How the limb had failed him. What if it happened again now? She wrenched her eyes back up to meet his, searching for… something. Reassurance, perhaps. A hint of his usual confidence. As if he'd followed her line of thinking, he arranged his expression into neutrality – closed off. She sighed and looked away.

"I won't take any unnecessary risks," she said at last.

Distantly, she heard Dunban reply. Words murmured like a secret meant only for her. But she couldn't understand, not with her heart thudding and mind racing. Why was the siren still howling? What did the situation outside the Villa look like? Surely, it was dire. Every citizen of Alcamoth knew the alarm and its meaning. Very few had ever heard it outside of their scheduled emergency drills, herself included.

She cast a glance over her shoulder. Part of her didn't want to separate from him. They would both be safer together, after all. But he was right. The rest of their friends needed to be rounded up and she didn't have time to spare. Her father would be expecting her.

They took off in opposite directions. Dunban headed deeper into the Villa while Melia raced for its exit. Once outside, she encountered a group of servants standing in the middle of the path, gawking at the sky. She followed their gazes. Curtains of rain obscured her view, though occasional bursts of pale blue light broke through. Blasts from their anti-Mechon aircraft. And trails of fire as the enemy cut through them, sent them spiraling into the sea below.

"Your Highness!" one of the servants cried. "Please, you must take shelter."

In the back of her mind, she almost appreciated their concern. The inconvenience made her scowl outwardly. There wasn't time for explanation. They didn't realize the gravity of the threat, didn't know what she was prepared to do for them. The rest of Alcamoth, as well. She jogged past them, toward the transporter, and continued on until she reached the Ascension Hall.

Kaelin stood at his usual post, spear in hand. Anxious energy vibrated through his muscles as he scanned the chamber before him. He offered Melia a hasty bow the moment she crested the stairs.

"Princess… The emperor has already left for Prison Island," he said, straightening. But he didn't look directly at her. His eyes focused at a point somewhere beyond then shifted to another. "I was instructed to tell you that you are not permitted to leave the palace. Until the danger has been—"

"That is my mission? To lock myself away while my people suffer?" Heat burned in her chest, creeping up her neck. She clenched her hand into a fist, nails digging into her palm. The pain grounded her, urged her to let go of the building anger rather than act on it. With a deep breath, she relaxed her fingers.

It wasn't Kaelin's fault. The emperor had decided this, as he decided all other matters. With little input from anyone else and the safety of Alcamoth always at the forefront of his thoughts. Whatever he expected to happen on Prison Island… She forced herself to stop. It would do her no good to dwell on unsavory possibilities. If anything, she needed to figure out what to do next. Not that she couldaccomplish much, confined to the palace.

Kaelin didn't reply to her questions. She hadn't really wanted an answer, anyway. She'd intended to voice her frustration, nothing more. He could do nothing to help her, even if he wanted to. Even if he agreed. So, she moved on, stepping onto the transporter.

The Audience Chamber was empty when she arrived. Nearly empty. She hadn't noticed Kallian at first, huddled as he was against the far wall. Where the Imperial Staff once was. For the first time in days, he was alone. All guards must've been called away to secure the city. She observed her brother in silence before announcing her presence. He wore the same clothes he attended her wedding in, though he'd strapped a silver breastplate over his fine shirt. Too fine for the circumstances they found themselves in.

A frown slipped through her guard. She wondered if he'd slept like that, if the quality of such sleep had been as poor as hers.

"Kallian?"

He started at the sound of her voice, head whipping up. When he recognized her, he pushed himself away from the wall and approached her. His fingers seized her shoulders in a crushing grip. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

She winced then shook herself free of his grasp. The questions blurred together, barely distinguishable from frantic rambling. But she determined their meaning all the same.

"I am fine. Thank you." She avoided acknowledging his concerns about Dunban. There were more pressing matters at hand. And, even if this were a casual meeting, she wouldn't relive the experience for his entertainment. Or bear the burden of his judgement. Not that there was an experience for her to relive, anyway. Her nails bit into her palm.

"Right. Good," he said, turning his face away.

He made a show of studying the Imperial Staff's rack, but Melia paid his performance no mind. Small bruises littered his neck, ugly red and purple splotches starting just below his jaw. She crossed her arms and scoffed. The hypocrisy left her quaking with fury. Everyone in Alcamoth had something to say about her relationship with any man she so much as smiled at. So worried about her precious virginity. Yet Kallian could brazenly wear the evidence of an affair without fear.

Lorithia's words came to mind unbidden – the people's accusation. She had never even kissed anyone before but her subjects made her into the aggressor. A succubus seducing her innocent brother. Revulsion punched through her stomach, momentarily blinding her with tears. She clenched her teeth hard enough to grind them into dust. The audacity…

"Why are you here?" Rage vibrated her voice despite her efforts to contain it.

"Our laws forbid me—"

"I don't have time for your deflections," she said with a scowl. Venom coated her words and her eyes held a challenge. Daring him to protest. "Your bedwarmer needs you more than I do."

His bewilderment shifted seamlessly into something darker. Pain and hate tinged in shame. Then the expression passed like a storm cloud torn apart by the sun. Neutrality replaced it. The consuming void that they were both too familiar with. Though, he'd never directed it at her before. When he spoke again, she almost checked over her shoulder to be sure their father hadn't suddenly appeared behind her. His voice only sounded that blank after a terrible scolding. Or when agreeing to an order he found particularly distasteful.

"Father asked me to ensure your cooperation."

The words chilled her anger and she took an involuntary step back. She knew what that meant. Any plans to follow the emperor to Prison Island would face opposition. But what that opposition would entail, she couldn't guess. Could he really hurt her if she refused? By reflex, she raised her staff, holding it diagonally across her body.

"I see." Her heartbeat drowned out her response, but she fought to maintain her composure. Ether crackled in the air beside her ear. Tempting… Seize the advantage and strike first. "Well, rest assured, Father will know you tried your best."

"Why are you so determined to fight me?" Kallian asked, fidgeting with the hilt of his sword. "After our discussion yesterday, I thought…" He slid the blade from its sheath. A calculated move. And still, his façade stayed firm, as if she was nothing more than a political rival. "I don't think you understand just how precarious our situation is. One misstep and we'll lose it all."

"How fortunate for us that your dalliances haven't interfered, then."

His muscles stiffened. Then he raised his sword, leveled the point at her chest. "Fine. Consider this your last chance to resolve our dispute peacefully."

At last, his mask slipped, exposing the hurt he'd been so desperate to hide. The intensity struck her like a knife. And it was that sensation that forced clarity back into her mind. What was she doing? Antagonizing Kallian didn't fix any of her problems. Not the attack on Alcamoth, nor the double standard. She needed to back down. Before she caused irreparable damage to their relationship.

"Forgive me," she said, lowering her staff. "I was wrong to take out my frustrations on you."

He returned his sword to its sheath slowly. As if he suspected she'd attempt to trick him. His grimace eased into a strained smile – still genuine, just… pained.

"I accept your apology. Of course." His voice wavered, strung so tightly that it should've broken. But it didn't. He'd managed to hold it together and everything else along with it. Before speaking again, he cast a glance downward. At his hands. "I am sorry too. Threatening you was… uncalled for."

"You were only doing what Father commanded," she said. Her gaze followed his, landing on his wrists. On his right, blood soaked through the bandages. The realization turned her throat dry and she couldn't stifle the resulting cough. She grabbed for his hand but he pulled away.

"Don't. Please."

"Again?"

He shook his head and let the air grow stagnant with the silence. His wings drooped, the feathers dull, almost lifeless. Melia frowned. She thought of her conversation with Dunban beside Eryth Sea. How she'd admitted – at least in her own mind – that she harbored hope for Kallian's recovery. Standing with him now, the foolishness of her optimism was glaringly obvious. She knew healing took time and yet… his condition seemed to worsen every time she saw him.

Or, perhaps she was being dramatic. Perhaps she needed to wait longer. What if she waited too long? What if she ignored the signs of a relapse and lost him? The questions twisted her organs into knots and she bit down on her lip to stop herself from spiraling further.

"Kallian—"

"Oi, Melia!" Reyn's voice sounded like an explosion after the tense whispers the royal siblings had shared.

She whipped around to face him, eyes wide. It was the only expression of her shock that she allowed herself to display. A show of weakness was the last thing anyone needed from her. The greeting echoed off the columns throughout the Audience Chamber, entering her ears in broken fragments. Distorted almost beyond recognition. She swayed on her feet as she struggled against the disorientation. But Kallian steadied her. Even after their argument…

"Read the room, Reyn," Sharla hissed, elbow poised to strike.

"Ah, no, it's fine," Melia said as she regained her bearings. Just before the medic's elbow could find its target. Reyn heaved a sigh of relief then grinned at her.

Already, the weight of the situation lessened. In spite of earlier disagreements over the wedding, all of her friends had showed up in Alcamoth's time of need. To support her. The late hour didn't matter to them. They'd roused themselves from sleep, prepared to do whatever they could to help. Tears pricked at her eyes. How could she stay upset in the wake of the gratefulness that flooded her?

She stood a little taller, returning Reyn's smile. Though, hers was much more subdued. Much like the rest of the party, she had limited energy from lack of sleep. But, for once, it felt more efficient to show her emotions, rather than hide them.

"Melia, we need to get to Prison Island right away," Shulk said, interrupting her train of thought. Half of his hair was matted down while the other half curled more wildly than usual. He really must have rolled out of bed and directly into the throne room. The idea would've made her laugh if not for his next sentence. "The emperor's life is in danger."

Dawn was still a long way off. Not that the sun's presence would matter much. Melia doubted it would be able to penetrate the thick clouds that choked the sky. Cold rain poured down over the little group as they made their way across the hovering reefs above Eryth Sea. Drenching their clothes and dampening what little morale they had. No one complained. Each of them were far too focused on their mission to voice their discomfort.

Melia led them, Dunban at her side and Sharla a few paces back. Reyn brought up the rear. Though he'd claimed he wanted to guard against another ambush, she suspected the poor weather was to blame. She'd seen him slip on the muddy trails often enough to consider her theory confirmed.

The door to Prison Island was locked behind two seals. They'd already managed one of the seals with almost no trouble. A stubborn enemy or two, but not much else to delay them. More obstacles sprang up as they proceeded to the final seal, swarms of Hodes that took considerable time to take down. More time than they had. Where had they all come from, anyway?

When they reached the final seal's release mechanism, they found a single Ekidno waiting for them. Almost anticlimactic compared to all they faced to get there. It met a swift end, shrieks echoing on the wind even after its body hit the ground. Melia stepped around the corpse to press the button on the panel their foe had been guarding. Though, she wondered if that was the right word. Perhaps it nested here only by chance. And then they killed it. Intruders that threw off the ecosystem's balance with their very existence.

She leaned against the railing and stared up at Prison Island. In the dark, she couldn't see much of it. Just a splinter of shadow against charcoal clouds. Brief flashes of white broke up the darkness and, on occasion, streaks of orange raced across the sky like shooting stars. If shooting stars ended in explosions… Her fingers tightened around the rail. Now wasn't the time for second thoughts. Or guilt. They would expend their supply of unmanned aircraft soon enough. Then her people would be next.

"We'll stop them. I promise," Shulk said, leaving his conversation with Reyn and Sharla to join her at the edge.

"Of course." She didn't have the energy to argue. Not after her earlier encounter with Kallian. Though, her brother had acquiesced rather easily once Dunban confronted him, much to the relief of everyone else. It seemed their duel had been good for something, after all.

"So, uh… Reyn said he gave you the locket?"

The change of subject was more than welcome. She didn't want to think about the Mechon more than necessary. With little more than a flick of her wrist, she pulled the pendant free from the high neckline of her shirt.

"He did," she said with a smile. She turned the metal disk over in her fingers, invited Shulk to admire it. "You are very talented. If I hadn't seen it in the Tomb, I'd never know it had broken. Thank you. This means… so much to me."

Shulk shifted a little closer and laughed. "You don't have to be so formal about it." His gaze lingered on the locket before moving back up to her face. "But you're welcome."

Heat radiated from her cheeks as she realized their proximity. She forced her attention back to Prison Island. The view was enough to rein in her wayward emotions. Another of their defenses crashed into the sea, bringing the mood down with it. How could she let herself feel even a moment of happiness when Alcamoth was in danger? She tucked her necklace back into her shirt.

She turned around, lower back pressed against the railing. The rest of the party gathered around the Ekidno corpse. Reyn knelt beside it, knife in hand, carving up what he could. Sharla looked on with fists shoved into the pockets of her shorts. Riki was more reserved than usual. No bouncing or bragging. The rain plastered his fur to the skin underneath and Melia knew it hurt his pride to look so disheveled. They wouldn't admit to it, but many Nopon went to great lengths to keep their fur soft and shiny. A significant expense, just behind food.

Dunban stood apart from the others. Ever since leaving Alcamoth, he'd been… sullen, disconnected. He spoke only during battle or when spoken to – which, truthfully, wasn't often. Riki shot glares in his direction or ignored him altogether. And, though Sharla had at last come to terms with the marriage, she made no effort to reconcile. Shulk followed her lead.

As for Melia, idle conversation was not one of her strengths. Some part of her knew that he wanted to be alone, anyway. Even if he'd insisted on hovering around her for the entire mission so far. Until this moment, with all their enemies defeated, he'd never been more than five feet away from her.

Anxiety fluttered through her stomach. She appreciated his support, of course, but… Something was wrong. The possibility of facing his sister's killer again had him rattled. She couldn't blame him for that. But his negativity seeped through her skin like poison, weighing her down. Distracting her. The closer he was, the more overwhelming that feeling became. Until her lungs ceased their function and her heart stuttered. Had she always been so empathetic? Or perhaps his emotional energy had warped the ether around him.

"We're wasting time," Dunban said, stalking toward the rest of the group. His voice pitched down slightly and Melia shuddered.

Sharla tensed. "If we don't rest while we can, we'll be unprepared for… whatever's up there." She turned to Melia, lips set in a frown. "Any idea what that might be?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Great," Sharla groaned. She wore her hair in a single braid, slung over her shoulder. Frustrated fingers tried in vain to wring out the water. But the rainfall was too consistent for her efforts to make an impact. She cursed, tugged harder on her braid. "We're exhausted, soaking wet, and about to march into unknown territory. Perfect."

"Well… there are my visions." Shulk's gaze flicked from Sharla to Dunban. He chewed on his lip, awaiting a response. Any response. But none came and he was compelled to elaborate. "We all made it to the top and no one looked injured. I think…"

"See, Sharla? We all make it," Reyn said as he sheathed his hunting knife. He used the rain to wash the monster's blood off his hands then grinned. Clearly proud of himself.

The conversation devolved from there. Sharla and Riki scolded Reyn while Shulk tried to reassure everyone. Dunban watched the chaos unfold, scowling. Then he whirled around and wound his way down the hill. His departure stopped the argument in its tracks. Reyn jogged after him, Shulk in tow.

"Guess we're going," Sharla said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Melia shared a look with Riki before the three of them followed. By the time they reached the base of the hill, Dunban was waiting at the transporter. He paced back and forth, making sharp, agitated gestures with his arm.

Her chest tightened at the sight. She had never seen him so angry, though perhaps she shouldn't have expected to know him that way. After all, they'd only met about a week ago. Still… Back then, she'd determined that he was the practical type. The one that held the party together, the one they looked to for guidance. There must be something she'd missed. A piece of him that remained hidden.

They regrouped at the teleporter, mixing together about as easily as oil and water. She seized Dunban's wrist before he could continue on.

"You guys go on ahead." The cheer in her voice was forced. As were the words, her tongue still unaccustomed to the informal language. She hoped no one would notice. If they did, they didn't comment. They obeyed her with little more than wary glances in her direction.

When they disappeared, warped to the next hovering reef, she released Dunban's arm. She studied him a moment. But he must've anticipated she'd try to read him and she met with a wall of emotionlessness.

"I understand that this isn't the most pleasant task," she began, taking care with her pronunciation. It bought her more time to figure out what to say next. "We're tired, tension is high. Everyone wants this to be over as soon as possible. But we can't afford mistakes. So, I… I need you to try to slow down."

"Don't hold me back."

The intensity in his gaze caused her heartrate to spike. She floundered for a moment, not expecting him to respond with such hostility. "That isn't my intention. I want you to have your revenge but—"

"Then get out of my way," he said, cutting off the rest of her sentence.

His shoulder bumped hers as he stepped onto the transporter. She stumbled. Her wrist slammed into the guardrail and she couldn't hold back the whimper of pain. That was certain to bruise. She sighed freely now that she was by herself. The skin was already red where it had struck the metal. If she thought the relationships within the party had been tense before… Sharla might actually kill him if she noticed the mark.

With a wave of her hand, she formed a cuff of water around her wrist. She took a deep breath, eyes slipping shut. On her exhale, the water froze. The cold eased the irritation. She only hoped it would be enough to avoid more conflict between her friends. After a minute, she let the ice melt and continued after Dunban. She didn't want to get caught out here on her own. Especially not with the wildlife's growing aggression. It must've had something to do with the unlocking of Prison Island's seals. As if they knew by instinct that the island was better left alone.

The rain finally let up as she rejoined the others at Central Seal Island. A thick fog rolled in after the downpour subsided, limiting their visibility. Perhaps they should've considered that a bad omen. Before meeting Shulk, Melia never quite believed in such things. Destiny belonged in romance novels. Outside of that context, it didn't make much sense to her. There was Alvis, of course, but she'd never seen his divinations firsthand.

Then Shulk stumbled into her life. A Homs who could turn the tide of battle with ease, as if he'd seen it all before. And his visions of Prison Island… He hadn't even known of Alcamoth's existence when he first started having them. What other explanation could there be?

"I think I preferred the rain," Sharla muttered, freeing her ether rifle from the holster on her back.

Reyn waved his arms around in a feeble attempt to dispel the fog. When that inevitably failed, he turned to Melia. "Can't you just…?" He imitated the whooshing sound of wind, emphasized with yet another wave. Though this one was more exaggerated than his first try.

"It would be a temporary solution," she said. Despite knowing it would be pointless, she raised her staff. The skin on the back of her neck prickled as she reached into the ether.

A pale green glow emanated from the tip of her staff. It radiated outward, illuminating the faces of her companions. The wind followed. Just a faint breeze at first. As it strengthened, gathered momentum, the mist dispersed, clearing a wide swath of air. Five feet in all directions. She pushed a little harder, ignored her body's protests. Her lungs ached and, as she exerted herself, that ache turned to a burn. The ether within raged in her veins.

"What… is that?" Shulk stared, wide-eyed, at something behind her.

She released the ether, let the wind die. The others drew their weapons while Sharla aimed her rifle. Melia turned around, the prickling sensation growing until her entire body buzzed with unease. Before, she'd thought it was a side effect of using her powers. But now, she recognized it as the same feeling that had taken over in the Tomb. A warning.

The monster that hovered behind her was one she'd never seen before. It bore a remarkable resemblance to the Laia that flew over Eryth Sea – the same wings and tail. But this one was covered in leathery black scales. When it moved, the scales changed color, shifting from black to iridescent purple and back again. For a moment, no one moved. They were transfixed by its beauty. Then it swooped down on them, shattering the trance, forcing them to scatter.

Melia dove to the side as Sharla opened fire. Her knees hit the ground hard, sent painful vibrations up her legs. Scrambling to her feet, she narrowly avoided the creature's tail swing. She stepped back to take stock of the fight. Only Sharla seemed to be able to reliably land hits. Whenever the others came close, it soared up higher, out of reach of their weapons. Yet Dunban still flung himself full force into battle. She didn't know where he got all that energy from, but he needed to conserve it for Prison Island.

"Wait!" she called, raising her voice over the arrhythmic blasts of Sharla's gun. "Everyone, stand back."

She grasped her staff in both hands, planted the end into the ground, and summoned the ether. It tore through her like fire through a dry forest. She gritted her teeth. Underneath their enemy, shadowy tendrils burst out of the earth. They extended upward, wrapping around its body, dragging it back into the range of the others.

The beast struggled against her hold. Each buck and twist traveled through the ether and into her. As if it had struck her directly. She poured her energy into the shadows, as much as she could manage. The more she gave, the worse the pain became. A thousand blades slicing through her chest, desperate to escape the confines of her ribcage. She imagined her skin cracking open and peeling away from her flesh. Or perhaps it was real.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She couldn't hold on much longer. The ether inside her drained down to almost nothing and her vision whited out. All sights and sounds of battle abandoned her. Only the pain remained, a harsh reminder that her energy flooded out of her like water from a broken glass. And she couldn't stop it. Not until her friends killed the monster or the ether killed her.

She wouldn't be the last one standing. Never again.

When her senses returned, she was on the ground with Reyn, Shulk, and Riki kneeling beside her. Her skin stung, as if someone had raked their fingernails across it. Somewhere nearby, Dunban and Sharla argued. Their shouts echoed off the massive stairs that had risen from the island's ground until she couldn't decipher the words.

"Melly okay?"

She tried to nod but her body refused to cooperate. It was too heavy to move. "I'm alright, Riki." Her words slurred together, though she was tired enough that she couldn't feel any embarrassment. "Is the beast… gone?"

"Oh yeah," Reyn said, smirking. "You shoulda seen Dunban. Hacked that thing to pieces! The rest of us barely had to do anything."

"Reyn…" Shulk glanced over his shoulder. Then he stood. "I'm gonna get Sharla."

The ever-present buzz of Sharla and Dunban's argument cut off abruptly. Just when she'd allowed it to fade into the background. It had been comforting, in a way. At least they were all still alive. She flexed her fingers, savoring the feeling of her control returning. Her muscles ached with every movement. But it was better than paralysis. Tingles raced up her arms. Overstimulated, she cried out, her body flinching, trying to flee from the unpleasant sensation.

Sharla dropped down next to her. "Hey, you're okay," she said, voice soft, almost motherly. "I stabilized your ether levels, just like when we first met."

When the tingling subsided, Melia relaxed into the wet ground. The chill bit through her damp clothes and she suppressed a shiver. She couldn't take much more… Yet she still contemplated using ether to dry herself off. It was a bad idea – possibly the worst she'd ever had – but she had to admit it tempted her. She nodded.

Over the next few minutes, Sharla guided her through exercises to help her recover faster. Until, at last, she could sit up on her own. Reyn stayed close by, prepared to help as necessary. His brows drew together in concentration or concern. Whenever Melia glanced at him, he tried to hide the expression from her, shifted into a grin. But he was never quick enough and she always caught a glimpse of the worry. Which didn't bother her. It was… nice to see that her friends cared about her as much as she did for them.

"Whoa, careful," he said, catching her before she could fall back to the ground.

It took another handful of attempts until she could stand with only her staff as a crutch. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and heaved a sigh. Finally.

"Thank you for waiting," she said. "Let us proceed to Prison Island."

Dunban exchanged a glance with Sharla. The healer nodded her approval and he stepped closer to Melia. "You aren't coming."

"What?" The feathers of her headwings ruffled with indignation. "You can't— No…"

"It's for the best," Sharla added. "You're injured. Reyn offered to walk you back to Alcamoth."

"I did?"

"I'm fine." Melia ignored Reyn's interruption, too determined to win the confrontation with Sharla and Dunban to even notice that he'd spoken. "We don't know what awaits us. How can you guarantee that there won't be a gate that requires someone with royal blood? Like in the Tomb. You need me." She focused on Dunban, voice increasingly frantic. Eyes pleading. "My father's life is at stake. You can't expect me not to fight for him."

Silence. Shulk shifted his weight from one foot to the other, staring at the ground. As if that would spare him from being dragged into the fight like Reyn had been. Dunban studied her face. Guilt flitted across his features and he sighed.

"If the worst comes to pass," she said before he could answer, "and Shulk's vision comes true… I'll lose my father without the chance to make my peace. And I won't forgive you – any of you – for taking that from me."

"Alright," he said as the others mumbled in agreement. Even Sharla. "But you stay out of the battle. No matter what happens."

"Of course."

He grabbed her arm, preventing her from turning away. Her eyes met his and, for a second, the rest of the world seemed to fade from existence. It was only them. Standing before the transporter that would whisk them off to Prison Island. A rush of dizziness hit her and she swayed on her feet. It was his grip on her that held her upright. Under normal circumstances, she might've tried to resist the help. But she'd already caused enough of a scene for one day, so she let him support her.

"No, that's not good enough. Promise me." He spoke quietly. Or perhaps she couldn't determine his actual volume over the blood rushing in her ears and her drumming heartbeat.

"I promise," she breathed.

They stayed locked together, so close that she could see the tiny details of his irises. The flecks of silver sprinkled across dark grey. Her gaze dropped to his lips. How would they feel against her own? She… She wanted to kiss him. The very idea lit a fire deep within her. She wanted to tangle her fingers in his hair – wet and stringy from the rain – and pull him down to her level. Kiss him until she ran out of breath.

The thought shocked her at first. But it made sense when she considered it more. There was something about almost dying that left her feeling vulnerable. And, in just a few minutes, she would face death again. She'd lived years, denying her desires, pushing away all who attempted to court her. For the fear of what her people might think. So much time wasted. She couldn't know how much she had left. Maybe just enough to reach the top of Prison Island. Decades of sacrifice flashed through her mind and, before she could stop herself, she cupped Dunban's cheek.

She wanted to have something that was hers alone. Something that wasn't born of necessity or her duty to Alcamoth. Even if it couldn't live beyond this moment. She would be satisfied with never being satisfied. Because wanting was addictive and she'd chase the high of this first defeat forever.

"Um, good," Shulk said, his voice almost a squeak. "Great, super. Glad you'll, ah, be safe. We should go now…"

The illusion of privacy broke and Melia leapt away from Dunban, red-faced. Everyone else remained rooted in place. Exactly where they'd been before she'd lost her emotional control. They must have seen everything. Sure enough, Riki had his wings pressed over his eyes and Reyn wore a blush that stretched up to his ears. Sharla frowned. The disapproval hurt just as much as the embarrassment did. Perhaps she should break her promise and get herself killed after all…

"Indeed." She managed to maintain a cool tone. No trace of her inner panic. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and marched toward the transporter.

One by one, her friends followed, each taking their own time to recover from the awkwardness. She couldn't help but notice that Dunban was the last to move. He'd been so eager to get to Prison Island throughout the night. Why hesitate now?

Her teeth sunk into her lower lip. She needed to focus. Whatever had happened between them could be discussed later. If they survived.