Chapter Twenty-Four

They gathered by the fireplace most evenings, as they had gathered around the campfire before they had a home. It was all becoming routine: Malak talking about mining techniques with Mustadio and Besrodio; Meliadoul joking around with straight-faced Rafa. Ramza accidentally taking a nap by the fire, more often than not. Rad pretending to care about the things the rest of them were saying.

Alma patted Rad's arm, and then quietly asked if he was feeling okay. He looked surprised, but he grinned perfunctorily and said he was fine.

Alma recognized the sadness that he barely managed to cover up each day. She knew what it was to lose someone you loved. She knew what it was to feel that there was no point left in doing anything, and to feel that way for months on end.

Unlike Rad, however, Alma was beginning to emerge from that dark empty hole of grief. She wanted to let herself be happy sometimes. She wanted to smile more, to join in on the conversations beside the fireplace.

Of course, her grief over Izlude, her kidnappings, her imprisonment… those had never been what held her back from talking.

No. She had been afraid that when she spoke, she might sound like Altima.

Like herself.

Alma could never tell Ramza or any of the others the truth. She couldn't even let them have the chance to guess at it, if she wanted to keep her life.

But Alma knew that she had not been possessed by Altima the way she was told her oldest brother, Dycedarg, had been possessed by her servant, Adramelk. For Alma, it had not been like a possession at all.

It was as Vormav had explained to her, truly… She had remembered.

When Vormav had finally taken her to the unholy shrine and used the power of the Virgo stone, as well as the power of his own spilled blood, to awaken her… It was as if there had been a locked trunk full of memories always stored within her head… and when Vormav tore off the lock and threw the trunk wide, with his sacrifice, Alma had suddenly been the owner of worlds full of information, as if it had always been hers.

She was Alma, and she was Altima. She could remember growing up as Ajora Glabados, too, in the town of Milados, just as clearly as she could remember Alma's childhood in Igros. She could remember things even from long before Ajora, from days when humans regularly sacrificed out of fear and respect for her true name.

Her memories brought her knowledge that could be used to destroy cities, to sink entire lands beneath the oceans, if she wished. She understood the invisible substance that held this very world in order, and all the rest of the worlds, and the stars they circled.

She was a god, a goddess, a creator, a destroyer. She could bring Hashmalum back to life with a simple spell. She could raise her servants to their exalted places of power, and cast her enemies into the underworld. She could end this planet entirely, if she decided it did not please her.

The only problem had been that, during the instant they found each other, the instant her old memories filled her, some part that had still believed itself to be only Alma had demanded NO. It had demanded its separation, command of its own body. And with all the unholy power of Altima, of herself, at her disposal, she had given herself her own separate body.

Oh, the confusion.

If not for that separation, then Altima would have easily ended the lives of the puny troop of humans led by Ramza Beoulve. But instead, at the very moment she had risen, she had needed to see from two separate pairs of eyes. She had needed to try to keep only Alma's memories inside one body and only Altima's memories inside the other… because she herself desired it to be so!

It had been the most challenging thing she had ever tried to do. To turn oneself into two different people. The memories leaked back and forth, no matter how she focused. In the body called Altima, she would move to strike at some human, only to suddenly find herself confused and seeing through the eyes of the body called Alma again.

It had caused her to die at the hands of foes who were far inferior to her.

Alma could still remember the cold, trembly feeling that preceded her death, in her Altima body. And when that form was finally dead, she saw through only one pair of eyes again. She had done her best to force her Altima thoughts to stay inside that dying Altima form, while she still lived and breathed as Alma. But, really, that once-locked trunk full of memories in her head… it was as if someone had tried to close it, but the lid had been left slightly ajar.

After her Altima body died, her vision and her thoughts had been terribly blurry for a while.

She was Alma. She was so pleased to see Ramza again. She hugged him tightly.

She was Altima. She had waited twelve-hundred years for this moment. And this young man, the descendant of her ancient enemy, had ruined everything. She ought to use the power of the blood spilled on the floor to give herself the strength to snap his neck.

"I missed you," Alma had choked out.

It had taken a few hours for her to adjust. She was fairly certain she was Alma. Or mostly Alma. She thought she was having the feelings that Alma would have… but every few minutes, an idea that most definitely belonged to Altima would pop into her head.

She didn't want to have those thoughts. And since she didn't want them, wasn't that proof that she was Alma? She might remember being those other creatures, but she didn't want it…

She wouldn't hurt Ramza. She wouldn't hurt anyone, she told herself, again and again and again…

As they all sat on the rotted airship in Hell, despairing, Alma did her best to ignore her frequent thoughts about power. It's there for the taking, why don't I just use it? her mind occasionally shrieked at her. Look at all this spilled blood! Will I waste my servants' hard work?

She ignored it, but she didn't speak to the others, no matter what they said to her. What if when she spoke, Altima's words came out instead?! If she couldn't stop the occasional demonic thoughts from passing through her head, then would she be able to stop the words from escaping?

They would kill her. They would have no other choice, if they thought that Altima lived on inside of her.

I am not Altima! Alma tried to convince herself. I am Alma Beoulve. I am Alma, I am Alma…

She listened to the others speaking. She watched as they grieved over Thunder God Cid's lifeless form. The man she had killed earlier, in her other body. She listened as a few of them wept because they were trapped here in Hell. They said Sir Rofel had destroyed the portal that brought them here, and he had told them they would never be able to return to the living world.

Fools will believe anything. There are a thousand different portals out of the netherworld, Alma's mind muttered.

Alma focused, at that. But the Altima thoughts now seemed uninterested in continuing to try to butt their way in.

Alma waited another few hours, but the voice that was Altima did not give her any further information regarding the portals. It occasionally threaded its way through her own thoughts, but not with the details she hoped for.

It felt annoyance at having to listen to the others weeping. It once again complained about the wasted blood, and asked itself why it would fail to harness the fuel source.

Eventually, Alma went searching within her own mind. It was as if she was sitting to take an exam, and wracking her brain to remember the answer to a difficult test question.

Where are the nearest portals to Ivalice? she asked herself, surrendering to the memories she knew were Altima's… and maybe hers, as well… the ones she had been keeping at bay, even if she didn't want to admit that was what she was doing.

And then, she remembered the answers.

It was that simple, really. Altima's memories were her own memories, as long as she didn't hide them down in her subconscious. There was a necrohol that would take them out close to Goug, and the portal was only a couple day's walk away from their current position in Hell.

Alma had still been afraid to speak, though. Trying her best to say as little as possible, and plotting each individual word extremely carefully, Alma had finally whispered to Ramza, "Lord Vormav showed me a different way to get out of here. I know how to take us back home."

Ramza had been incredibly surprised to hear that, but he wasn't about to turn his nose up at an escape route of any kind.

The trickiest part was explaining why she knew the incantation that was required in order to make the portal work.

"I… he… Lord Vormav wished for me to know it… He said I was going to become his ally, if you had not rescued me in time," Alma had lied once more.

After getting them safely out of Hell, Alma had strictly forbidden herself from speaking out loud. She was still getting accustomed to having the other set of memories, and the voice in her head that wasn't hers and yet somehow also was hers.

She still pushed the memories back and away. She didn't want to think about Altima or Ajora, and as long as she focused on other things, she was all right. It was like trying to avoid thinking about a very traumatic experience that happened years ago. If you did your best to never think about it, you could sort of keep it away, to a certain extent.

Alma figured that would have to be good enough. She did not want to die. She did not want to be killed by her one remaining brother, for being a demon. Or a god. Or whatever Altima really was.

Now that they had been living in Ordallia for about a couple months, Alma was starting to feel confident in her ability to safely express herself. She had used their trip to the seamstress as a sort of experiment. When she had been out of earshot of Meliadoul and Rafa, she had allowed herself to speak freely with the seamstress herself.

She figured that if she accidentally said anything strangely demonic, or utterly unlike something Alma would say, then the seamstress did not know her well enough to find that suspicious.

And it had gone well! She had not said anything evil. Even when a stray Altima thought flashed through her mind, her words remained only the words she wanted to say.

She was beginning to believe that she, Alma, truly had full control of herself. And maybe that meant she could start trying to live like a normal person. She could chatter and laugh with the others. She could make it worthwhile, having this second chance at life.

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Rad was assisting Ramza in preparing dinner for the evening. They were nearly finished cooking when Malak returned home early from his week at the Cattilus Inn, driving the chocobo-led carriage they had recently purchased. A grinning Lavian was sitting next to him, in the driver's seat.

From out of the carriage stepped Agrias, Alicia, Ovelia, Balthier, and Wulfhilda. They all stretched wearily, as if their muscles had been falling asleep during the ride. Before their stretching was complete, they were being ambushed by the rest of the crew; excitedly hugging them, exclaiming over Ovelia's presence, and begging to know details of all of their adventures.

Rad himself ran out to greet them, too. Alicia hugged him so hard that she practically lifted him off the ground, and he laughed. Rad saw that Alma immediately took hold of Queen Ovelia, and pulled her away from the rest of the group. Alma looked terribly excited to see her old friend from her monastery days.

Rad thought that it was nice to joke around with Alicia again, and a burden he didn't even know he had been carrying was suddenly lifted, to know that these people he had been fighting alongside for so long were truly alive and well.

He asked Alicia where Construct 8 was, and she said the robot was still balled-up in his sleep mode inside the carriage. They both went to wake Construct 8 and bring him indoors. Soon afterward, it was time to eat the meal that he and Ramza had carefully prepared.

Rad was happy to see the new arrivals sitting around the table. He really was.

But somehow, it felt hollow to him, anyway. The face he really wanted to see the most was still not present, and it probably never would be. Amid all these happy reunions, he felt so incredibly bereft. Alicia had always been a friend to him, sure. So had most of the others, but it wasn't the same as with Luso. He had thought of Luso as family. As everything, really.

And then Luso had left.

Rad wasn't sure if the sick feeling that had settled in the top of his stomach would ever go away. How did one move on from such a thing? How did one ever feel joy again, after caring that much, so much, about someone else, and then being abandoned by them?

He had tried to comfort Luso, while they were in Hell. Comforting others didn't really come naturally to Rad, who had known so little kindness in his own life; but by the gods, he had tried! He had tried to be strong enough for both of them, when Luso seemed to be losing his own nerve.

And it hadn't been enough. Luso told him he had to get away from this group, that he couldn't stand to ever face another demon, or hear another possessed bastard chanting words which would throw them back into the underworld. Luso wanted out of this insanity, and he wouldn't even let Rad run away with him.

Rad supposed he was tainted now, in Luso's mind. He was part of the madness of Ramza's demon-destroying crew, and Luso wanted to escape that madness forever.

Luso didn't want him anymore, and it hurt worse than anything else Rad could imagine. Had it meant nothing to Luso? Rad had poured his very soul into every touch, word, and moment alone together… Had Luso simply seen him as an amusement, all this time?

Alicia stuck close to him throughout the rest of the evening, and Rad was grateful for that. People often mistook Alicia for his sister, since they were both short in stature and auburn-haired. In truth, neither one of them had any blood relatives left alive.

They all squeezed in as best they could around their new dining table, to eat and talk. Rad was quite intrigued to hear the story of how the others had communicated with Ovelia through her servant, and then rescued her from the palace.

He was even more intrigued to hear Agrias describe her fight with King Delita! Rad shook his head, grinning. If anyone was going to fight a king and win, it was Agrias.

Eventually, Agrias finished her tale. They had all met at the camp, and they had safely traveled from Ivalice to Ordallia, arriving just in time to meet Malak at the inn and be brought here to their new home.

Malak and Lavian had barely stopped touching each other since their reunion. Gods, if that didn't drive the knife deeper, for Rad. Lavian had left Malak, but she had come back, in due time. And look how happy Malak seemed!

Rad stared blankly down at his hands. Luso wouldn't ever be able to return to him, even if he wanted to. Luso didn't know where they lived.

The conversation naturally moved to the subject of housing, and who actually planned to stay here long-term. Rad learned that Agrias, Ovelia, Alicia, and Lavian hoped to stay with them, at least for the time being.

Balthier and Wulfhilda had come along only to make sure that everyone else was safe, and to see the place that Ramza and his crew had decided to settle. They would stay here for a few days, to rest a bit, but Balthier and Wulfhilda planned to soon travel back to Ivalice to do some questing that Balthier would not describe in detail. It seemed to have something to do with the place that Balthier was originally from, but Balthier wouldn't share much detail about that, either.

Lavian regaled them with stories about working as a palace maid, and all of the disgusting jobs she had to do. Until Besrodio begged her to stop talking, because she was ruining his appetite.

Rad thought that he and Ramza had done a good job making the meat pies and soup for tonight. The meat was tender and everything was spiced perfectly, if he did say so himself. Rad was discovering that he was a pretty good cook, when he was given decent ingredients and a proper amount of time to work within.

They were still living in the drafty, oblong hut, while their real house was under construction. They had hung up blankets as temporary partitions, to create 'bedrooms' within the hut. With the new arrivals, they would need to rearrange the hanging blankets to create a few more sleeping spaces.

Luckily, they had hired every laborer available in the town to work on building their new home, plus Ramza, Rafa, and Meliadoul were working alongside the laborers. At the rate they were going, they would all be able to live within the house in less than another month's wait. It was to be a proper estate home, with bedrooms aplenty. Rad was a little bit excited about that; he had never lived in a proper house before, or had a bedroom of his very own.

Throughout the whole conversation amongst the group, Ramza's face looked unusually stern. Rad noticed that Ramza did not join in with the planning of sleeping arrangements, or the excited exclamations over Agrias' defeat of King Delita, or the surprised questions over the Queen's newly shortened hair.

Eventually, even Ovelia noticed Ramza's grim countenance. "Is all well, Sir Ramza? Has our arrival upset you?" she asked tentatively.

Ramza shook his head slowly. "You are all welcome to stay here. It is only… I fear Delita will never forgive this. He has been made to look a fool. I think he will never rest until he has repaid you and Agrias both for this humiliation."

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A/N: Hope this chapter was a fun read, though it was one of the slower ones! To warzonecall: I'm so glad you liked the scene in the last chapter! I'm always happy to see those two together, it's so sad how in the game they never meet again after Zeltennia, and then of course Ovelia's tragic ending. And to Josh1013: I'm glad you liked Chapter 20 too! I figure I have to throw in a little humor about Ramza now and then, I get tempted to only write him as a more serious character, but then I remember him ordering Construct 8 to dance and shoot Mustadio... haha.