"There's nothing I can do for you." The trade master of Colony 9 raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. His face, however, emitted none of that supposed distress. "We have enough trouble providing our own refugees with food. Refugees, I might add, that fall under your jurisdiction. Technically, Alcamoth is responsible for the wellbeing of all Shoulder residents. But seeing as you have your hands full already, we are of course happy to help."

Melia leaned back in her chair. The trade master's oversized desk ensured a sufficient distance between them, but she gladly added a few more inches. "You are too kind."

The trade master waved a stack of papers, perhaps because he thought this increased the perceived importance of his persona. "Oh please, the pleasure's all mine. Alcamoth has been generous enough to share their technological advancements with this humble colony. And I reckon you will continue to do so. For the sake of neighbourly bonds."

"Certainly." Melia fought the urge to cough as another wave of the trade master's sweet perfume wafted across the desk. "Although I must inform you that our chief engineer has left the capital. I would not count on his speedy return."

"Oh, really? How unfortunate. That reduces the value of your operations quite significantly. And his departure will hurt your success rate in dealing with the Shoulder's decay, I suppose?"

"I'm afraid I can't share any specifics regarding this matter. But you may rest assured that we are doing our utmost to solve the issue. For the sake of neighbourly bonds."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it, Lady Melia. You almost had me worried for a moment. Then let us hope for your engineer's swift return. In the meantime, Colony 9 will of course provide you with everything you may need."

"With the exception of food supplies."

"Ah, yes, that. Well, our resources have limits. I'm sure you understand. Besides, the Bionis Shoulder has a reputation for both its fertile fields and its rich fishing grounds. This overabundance of goods has gained Alcamoth wealth that likely surpasses my humble imagination. I'm afraid I fail to see the urgency in your request."

Melia couldn't breathe in the thick, perfumed air for longer. She walked towards the window with measured steps, lest the trade master assumed she fled from the conversation. The tapping against the glass was louder here, almost loud enough to drown the rustle of paper as the trade master refolded her written request. On the plaza below, the residents of Colony 9 strolled to and fro. Some stopped to chat, others cursed the low clouds that showered the houses with a constant drizzle. Little suggested the peril in which the Bionis' Shoulder was.

"As I have related to you before," Melia said, "large sections of the Shoulder are under threat of collapse. And that includes the fields around Gran Dell. I cannot with a clear conscience send farmers or fishers to their workplace under these conditions."

"Yes, yes, you said so. Terrible, that." The trade master clasped his hands and studied Melia over his fingertips. The drops running down the window did not enough to distort his reflection. "But aren't we all at a great risk in these uncertain times? Accidents can happen anywhere. Ah, but I'm rambling again. After all, how you order your subjects is your decision alone."

He was playing with her, as usual. Whether the cause lay in her High Entia identity or in her small statue, Melia could not exude the steel to negotiate with the trade master on a level plain field, even after years of practice. She would have to alter her strategy.

"Perhaps I can offer you something that would make parting from spare food provisions more bearable," Melia said and returned the trade master's look.

He lifted his chin from his clasped hands. "Oh? And what would that be?"

Melia tightened her grip on the windowsill. She had hoped to avoid playing this card. "Our research data on the state of the Bionis' Shoulder. And furthermore, information concerning the nature of ether in this world as a whole."

"Interesting." The trade master leaned backwards; a calculated move to disguise how desirable he truly found this information. "Mind if I ask how you acquired such knowledge?"

"I owe this information to—" Melia almost said Shulk's name before she thought better of herself. Across her reflection in the window flashed a pained expression, and she could only hope the trade master hadn't noticed. "To our chief engineer before he left."

"Very impressive. And he has offered this delicate information to be freely shared with us humble colonists? How generous."

Melia bit her lips. "Indeed. Will you accept this trade?"

"Ah, but there's no need to make such a serious face, Lady Melia." The trade master spread his arms to encompass his dominion. The shelves ached under expensive busts and vases, all in front of a panelling of Makna wood from a type of tree that had since died out. "We are neighbours after all and must band together in these uncertain times. You are in luck. A new shipload of provisions just came in this morning. And we are happy to share, that goes without saying."

"In exchange for the information."

The trade master's smile widened. "Oh, you misunderstand. These goods are a gift from me to you. A favour from neighbour to neighbour, if you will."

"A debt."

The trade master raised a finger. "A favour, Lady Melia. And I'm sure you High Entia know how to show their gratefulness for a friendly favour. All in due time, of course."

"Of course."

The trade master stood up and, as if by chance, his eyes crossed the digital clock displayed on the wall. "Doesn't time fly? How fortunate that we managed to settle this matter before my break. I would love to have you for lunch, but I'm afraid urgent matters call me elsewhere. Another time, perhaps."

He directed Melia towards the door, and his peppermint breath crashed horribly with the sweet perfume. Melia needed all her willpower not to recoil.

"My assistant will handle all the formalities," the trade master said. "In the meantime, enjoy your stay in Colony 9. Oh, and let me once again express my condolences over the loss of your engineer. And at such an unfortunate moment… you must be particularly devastated."

Melia startled. Had he spotted her momentary loss of face after all? And what else had he pieced together?

"I believe he had valid reasons to go," Melia said in her most even tone.

"Certainly, certainly. We can call ourselves lucky to have a capable empress as well as a successor to the throne of Alcamoth who will keep a level head in these uncertain times. Even after losing such a close ally… ah, but do me a favour and inform me in case of his return. I would very much like to meet him."

"We shall see. I will keep you informed. All in due time, of course."

With these words, Melia all but fled the central trade building and stepped out into the drizzle. Her headwings were soaked in an instance.

The trade master's mention of a successor to the throne hardly qualified as a coincidence. Aaron's parentage was an open secret in Alcamoth. Accordingly, the trade master could have found ways to figure out Shulk's relation to the royal house. This alone was not cause for concern, but Melia had made the mistake of mentioning the departure of her chief engineer. This information, paired with her momentary loss of face at his mention, gave the trade master a sufficient number of clues to piece together that Shulk had left Alcamoth.

And Melia had taken measures to prevent this exact news from spreading.

Shulk still enjoyed a hero status among certain circles. His refusal to engage in political affairs in favour of the work as a simple mechanic had only added to the myth of his character. If rumours spread that he had left Alcamoth, that he had abandoned the sinking ship, it would result in panic.

Well, more panic than the hushed horror stories that already circulated among refugee tents in Alcamoth.

Melia hugged herself to battle the cold wetness. She wondered where Shulk was at this moment. Was he well? Did the rain patter against his face also? Had he slept through the night without the torment of another vision?

Melia wanted to believe that he was happier outside the confines of Alcamoth. But she had no time to dwell on fantasies about him.

Eyes followed each of her steps as she made her way towards the central plaza tower where Junks docked. People hushed or pointed at her. Some faces displayed the hostility openly. The majority kept their true intentions behind raised hands, and when they returned home, they would no doubt speak of Melia's failure, of her incapability to lead. She could hardly blame them.

The day after Shulk had left, the Shoulder had suffered another collapse. A section near Gran Dell, far outside the prohibited area near the Companions' Cape, had caved in. With them, the rocks had taken the graveyard on the shore of the Tranquil Tarn. The seven people who had visited the tombs of their fallen relatives had had no chance to escape. The ocean far below had swallowed them.

In the aftermath, Melia had declared the entire Shoulder as a hazardous zone of the highest degree. Yet this action helped little to console those who had lost friends and family in the catastrophe.

The people on the street thus had every right to glare at Melia. Still, each subsequent step required more will power to take. She felt exposed, weak, a helpless girl that had wandered into a nest of Arachnos. Rain dripped down her neck, a chill. Her grip tightened around her staff. She had no reason to fear, and still she feared. She feared for the man there to voice his resentment towards her, and she feared he might carry his grudge home instead. She feared the High Entia under the terracotta canopy would take her child and flee Melia's presence. She feared poisoned daggers that did not exist.

The faces of passers-by melted into one, drenched by rain but no less accusing. Why don't you do more, the tree Nopon on the balcony said. Why don't you do more, the man crossing her path screamed. And Melia's reflection in the puddle under her boots joined the chorus. Do more, do more, do…

Steps sounded behind her. A stranger's breath attacked her neck.

Then a hand grabbed her shoulder from behind. "Hey!"

Melia whirled around, ready to face her undoing… but instead she met Sharla's warm gaze.

"Hey, you could have sent us a message to let us known you were visiting Colony 9," Sharla said. Then she paused and gave Melia's face a closer inspection. "Everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Melia struggled to catch her breath. "I… yes, I'm alright. I merely did not expect to meet you here."

"Yeah, I'm cutting down on my lunch break for this. I saw Junks land earlier, and I thought maybe Shulk would pay us another visit. He's not with you, is he?"

Melia choked. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes. "No, he… I'm afraid he couldn't come."

"Are you crying?!" Sharla took hold of Melia's shoulders and scrutinised her. "What happened? What's wrong with Shulk?"

The compassion in Sharla's face nearly broke Melia. The stress, the worry, the constant dread that controlled her thoughts more and more the further the Shoulder's decay proceeded, this entire maelstrom threatened to collapse over her head and pull her under until she would drown in its depths.

But if she gave in now, it would mean triumph for those who wanted to see her stumble. Melia had promised Shulk that she would manage and keep her chin up with or without him.

So, she swallowed the tears and straightened. "Can we talk elsewhere? In private?"

"Uhm, sure." Sharla glanced at the bystanders left and right. "I'll ask someone at the surgery to cover for me. Can you manage alone until then? Because you really don't look like everything's alright."

"No. I'm afraid everything is not alright."

Sharla chose the park on the hill overlooking Colony 9 to talk. The tree in the centre of the gravel rotunda protected a lonely bench from the drizzle. But the cold seeped through Melia's dress and skin regardless.

"I can't believe he left." Sharla paced in front of the bench, kicking pebbles as she went. "I can't believe he would simply go up and leave. Just like Dunban. I mean, we could all see that he wasn't doing so well, but to disappear without a word…"

The rain pattered against the leaves overhead. Pitter-patter. Like fingers that begged to enter.

"He would not have left if I hadn't encouraged him," Melia said.

"Why would you say something like that to him? In the physical and mental state that he's in, who knows what will happen! I don't get you. You love him, don't you?"

"I do. I have since we first met. That is why I needed to free him from the chains I wrapped around him."

Sharla sighed. Her eyes travelled across the rooftops of Colony 9 that gleamed from rainwater. "You never told him for how long you've had feelings for him, did you? That you loved him long before what happened to Fiora."

"What does it matter? I doubt the truth would have changed anything."

"Well, it might have convinced him to stay! Why can't you two ever be honest with each other, why must you always tiptoe around your feelings like they're some kind of unseemly creature? Just because Fiora is dead doesn't mean you have to be ashamed of your affection for the rest of time!"

"There are more reasons for why he needed to go, reasons beyond Fiora. I admit it was also guilt that drove me to tell him to go." Melia ran her fingers along her staff. Shulk had offered to smooth out the nicks and groves, but they hadn't found the time. Now it would never happen. "But what could I have offered him? If I had decided in favour of the alternative, if I had let my feelings cloud my judgement once more, and if he had stayed in Alcamoth, it would have destroyed him. Alcamoth has no future."

"Stop talking nonsense! It can't be that bad."

"I'm afraid the collapse of the Shoulder is inevitable."

"Well, that's what he left for, right? He'll find a way to fix it."

"By wishing for another new world to replace this one?" Melia shook her head. "No power in this world can save the Shoulder, Shulk's own research confirms it. The refugees that arrive here will tell you the same truth. You must have noticed how dire the situation has become."

Sharla shoved a soaked handful of hair out of her face and looked sideways. "I haven't exactly gone out of my way to stay up to date. Reyn and I don't talk about it. A lot of people don't."

"I cannot blame you. When there is darkness on the horizon, it is easier for people to look away. I merely fear that the darkness, while they go about their daily tasks, is taking root in them without their notice."

"Yeah. Folks don't talk about Alcamoth too flatteringly these days. But I mean, some people will take any excuse to complain, and in this case, it just happens to be the fact that a High Entia is at the top of the power structure."

"Is that what agitates them? Rather than my failures they take issue with my identity?"

"Well, no…" Sharla groaned and kicked another set of unsuspecting pebbles. "Look, these people are morons. They are probably still crying about the good old days on Bionis where the High Entia were little more than a myth and the next wave of mass extinctions was knocking on their door. It's these same loudmouths that want a Homs to represent Colony 9 as an equal to you. Their own emperor, basically."

Melia sank back on the bench. She was so tired. "I see."

"Hey, you're not taking that to heart, are you?"

"How can I not take it to heart? If the people reject me, how can I promise them hope? How can I honour Kallian's wish and become the hope of the High Entia when there is no hope in this world altogether?"

Sharla gave up on her pacing and took up the space on the bench next to Melia. The steel in her gaze burned with a steady flame. Melia envied her.

"Okay, you need to stop worrying about this," Sharla said. "You can't turn everyone's problem into your own, and I'm sure Kallian didn't mean his words as some sort of goal to reach, or some prophesy you have to do justice. Forget about it. Or ask people to help you. Because not even the hope of the High Entia can tackle every quest alone."

Melia closed her eyes. The rain beat against the leaves, pitter-patter, like a steady heartbeat. Once, a long time ago, she had known six other people to rely on. In the heat of battle, during the smallest errands for residents of Colony 6, in the quietest nights on the Fallen Arm where the only enemy had been a lonely starry sky – all this time, friends had stood beside her. If she stumbled, someone was sure to offer her a hand and pull her to her feet.

Although they had faced gods, victory had seemed closer then.

Now… now Melia hardly knew what she was fighting.

"Maybe you're right, Sharla," she said.

"Yeah, I am! Damned ether, if you had actually talked with Shulk once or twice, he would have jumped to help you, guaranteed."

Melia managed a tired smile. "I'm afraid it is too late for that now."

The rain eased. The pitter-patter on the leaves became softer and softer, and no more than a handful of drops splashed onto the gravel every now and then. Yet, the dark clouds remained. A quiet between storms, a quiet that promised a far worse future at the horizon.

Behind the gathering darkness, far above, Alcamoth floated out of view. And although Melia's gaze flickered towards the horizon from time to time, her focus always returned towards the capital. Even if she failed to make out the white towers between the clouds.

"You should go after him," Sharla said.

"You know I cannot abandon my duties."

"But you failed to reach out to him one time already! If this were about Reyn…" Sharla shuddered. "I couldn't stand it. Sitting around and worrying without a sign to tell me that he's even alive."

Melia rose from the bench. The gravel crunched under her boots as she walked towards the wooden fence that encircled the rotunda. There she stopped and looked up. Where the cloud cover had thinned, a shred of white peeked through, a metal gleam so small.

"I believe he is alive," Melia said. "I want it to be true. But whether his path leads him away from this darkness or towards an even greater one, I cannot tell. No one knows the future for certain, is it not so? Still, if he is to face darkness, I know that he will prevail. With or without visions. With or without the aid of ether. After all, that is the kind of Homs he is."

And Melia clung to this truth.

Even as she turned her eyes away from the horizon.

08/07/22: I don't dislike any of the NPCs from Colony 9 nearly enough to use them for this chapter. So, here is unnamed NPC Nr.1, code name "The Trade Master". Was it a good idea to spend almost two hours editing through this again when I should work on my seminar paper? Probably not. Here's the chapter anyway. Hope you enjoyed.