The sensation of drowning had become second nature. So many worries plagued her mind in waking moments and during the deepest hours of night alike, so many requests wandered onto her desk from citizens of Alcamoth and allies from Colony 9, and many more complaints echoed through the halls of the imperial palace, whispered by overworked guards and displaced farmers from Gran Dell. This storm roared at all times of day. These waves splashed high in their efforts to drag Melia underneath the surface, no matter how often she reminded herself to keep her chin up.

Do more, do more, do…

The storm raged and the waves clashed, more with each cliff falling from the Bionis' Shoulder. Lashed and beaten like this, Alcamoth was heading towards the dreadful future. Melia led the way. To where, she did not know. She had long since lost the guidance of the horizon in this storm.

When she looked at the Bionis' Shoulder crumbling beyond Alcamoth's glass dome, she found no light, no future there. Fogbeasts had conquered the spires and meadows. They multiplied, and every tragedy that struck her people, struck all people of Bionis, seemed to birth a new one to add to the storm. In a last ditch-effort, Melia had destroyed the teleporter leading from the Shoulder to Alcamoth. Now the open sky served as their last bulwark. But the next surge was sure to come. It was only a matter of time before the fog possessed one of the Shoulder's flying creatures and carried its hunger to the marble city gleaming so helplessly between the clouds.

All she could do was hold her breath for the inevitable moment where the storm would engulf Alcamoth to the fullest.

Half-drowned, Melia sought refuge anywhere but the throne room where the waves swirled most viciously. Kino's visit gave her the excuse she needed to set aside her own worries for half an hour and spare an ear for his.

The circular room with its domed roof, almost like a bubble within the larger bubble of Alcamoth, overlooked the refugee camp. The cluster of tents had grown in the past week and now covered every grass blade of the once sprawling lawns. A quiet anticipation had replaced the bustle of activity seen between the tents on other days. As if the refugees waited for the Bionis' Shoulder or Alcamoth itself to surrender to the strange workings of this new world and fall below the clouds.

Melia shook her head to cast off this image. How gloomy her thoughts were today…

Kino had dropped all acts of a composed heropon and dug with his wings into the cushions of the many benches hugging the sides of the glass room. From his place on the floor, Aaron regarded his antics with a mystified expression. The half-finished drawing in front of him would require another day until its completion.

"I'm sure she is alright," Melia said and gently pried the cushion from Kino's grip before he could tear out all the feathers.

Ashamed, Kino gave up on the cushion and tapped the upholstering with his feet instead. "It not fair!" he said. "Kino is heropon but can't even find sisterpon. Why must world be so big?"

"She won't be gone for long, I am sure. Nene knows how to look after herself. A truth you should best know yourself."

"Of course Kino will be glad to know that big sis is alright. But that not enough! Kino want big sis back with him. Like before…" Kino paused and looked around for potential witnesses to his rather childish outburst. When he deemed Aaron to be an acceptable risk factor, he continued. "That not a very heropon thing to say. Kino give Miss Melly apology for having to hear that and have flawless image of heropon ruined."

Melia smiled. "I don't mind. A heropon is allowed to worry about those closest to him like everyone else. Riki did the same for you from the moment he took you in."

Kino's eyes widened. He thought over Melia's words for a moment. "Kino accept worry for friends as part of heropon life," he said then. "But Kino still missing big sis. Want her back in very selfish way."

Melia reached out to stroke the soft fur at the back of Kino's head. Even now, the typical Nopon fluffiness under her fingertips gave her comfort, and she thought back to the times she had done the same with Riki during quiet evenings on their journey across Bionis. Reyn and Dunban would always bicker about the best way to light a campfire – until Shulk pulled a self-made fire box out of his pockets. Those days lay hardly fourteen years back. A short time span for a High Entia. Why then did the memory feel so far away?

"I know what you mean," Melia said. Her eyes wandered past Kino's shoulder to where, past the glass walls of Alcamoth, the waves glistered on the horizon. "I know it all too well…"

"Melia?"

Tyrea stood at the doorframe. Kino jumped back and assumed a pose more becoming of the current heropon. With a heavy heart, Melia rose from her seat; what else but another tragedy could bring Tyrea here? In smaller matters, she would have barred the door and defended it with flying daggers rather than rob Melia of this short moment to rest.

"I did everything I could, but this moron insisted to see you," Tyrea continued. "I was close to awarding his persistence with a pocket knife to his throat, but I believe he's a friend of yours."

Tyrea stepped aside with a begrudging huff, and Dunban entered. If an actual ghost had manifested into the room, Melia would have been no more surprised. As if he had emerged from the memories she had entertained a moment ago, he strode into reality, his katana at his side and as venerable as ever. Melia needed to blink twice before she made out the wrinkles between his brows to confirm time had indeed passed.

"Dunban," she said and approached him. The smile came to her lips more easily than all throughout the past weeks, maybe years. "I'm glad to see you in good health. It has been too long."

Dunban nodded. "Likewise. Although I have to admit, I would have been gone for longer if someone hadn't dragged me away from the Fallen Arm with his usual thick-headedness. But we can discuss that later."

A man entered the room behind Dunban. With his white robes, Melia at first mistook him for a High Entia, but indeed his face resembled no person she had met before. The sharp lines had more in common with the statues of her ancestors, serene but not without kindness. In the sunlight filtering through the glass dome, his blue skin shone like a piece of the sky itself.

"I apologise for barging in like that unannounced," the man said. His pleasant baritone filled the room, and if Dunban's arrival had not chased away the gloom hanging about, the stranger made sure to leave no more space for such negativity. "And into the middle of a reunion no less. Then you must be Empress Melia? I've heard of you. Only good things, of course."

Melia shook the stranger's hand out of a polite reflex. Here was a new storm she had not seen coming.

"If you have heard of me, you have the advantage," she said. "I doubt we have met before."

"Ah, yes, my manners. I'm not exactly the master of introducing myself." He smiled as if about an inside joke. "My name is Thanorlis, seventh Praetor of the Indoline Praetorium – but that will mean little to you, I suppose."

"Indeed, you are correct. Does this mean you are an inhabitant of this world from before the people of Bionis were transferred here?"

Thanorlis tilted his head and gave a nervous chuckle. "Now you have me at a loss; I have no idea what that means. But I owe it to Dunban and his friends that I'm standing here. And what a place this is." He spread his arms in a futile attempt to reach the edges of the dome. "A wider roof than any Indoline cathedral. Entirely made out of glass! I also caught a glimpse of the Shoulder, as you call it – marvellous! An island in the sky. A month ago, I could only dream of such a place existing."

"Thank you," Melia said for a lack of better responses. But when she followed Thanorlis' arms, she caught the tent canvasses of the refugee camp in her periphery. "It is not as impressive as it may appear on the outside…"

"Nonsense! If not for the serious matter that has brought me here, I would consider extending my visit here indefinitely." Thanorlis' eyes clouded. "Unfortunately, I do not have the freedom of choice. My people are counting on me."

"Are you in need of help?" Melia asked.

Kino, who had so far hidden in Melia's shadow bounced half a step forward. "Need help of heropon?"

Dunban straightened. His expression was caught between a soft smile and a pained squirm, a rather strange sight to see on a man as composed as he. "Kino, wasn't it?" he asked. "Nene has turned all of Colony 9 upside down when we stopped there. It could have saved us a few hours if we knew you were hiding here."

Tears welled in Kino's large chocolate-coloured eyes. "Big sis… looking for Kino?"

"She has been going on about the adventure story she wanted to tell you for days. You better go after her now. Last time I saw her, she was downstairs to explore the camp."

Kino hesitated for maybe a second to figure out what the appropriate reaction of a heropon looked like under these circumstances. After all, Thanorlis represented a potential friend in need of heropon saving. But then the promise of reunion silenced all other calls, and Kino exchanged no more than a brisk nod with Melia before he stormed past Tyrea and raced down the suspended walkway, shouting "Big sis!" as he went.

"I hope I will have another chance to introduce myself to him," Thanorlis said with a look after Kino. "Nene saved my life, and I would be most grateful to get to know her friends and family. Ah, excuse me, what were we talking about just now?"

"You mentioned that your people are counting on you," Melia said. "Does that mean they are in need of help?"

"I'm afraid so." Thanorlis averted his gaze. "It is a rather selfish request. I was informed of the trouble you face here and that your floating island is under threat of collapse – which makes my request even more inappropriate. I cannot express enough how sorry I am to bother you with this. But it was thanks to the help of three travellers that my people can hope for a future, and to keep this hope alive, I am willing to overstep the boundaries of curtesy."

Melia gestured Thanorlis to continue. "Speak freely, please."

"My people are suffering from a great famine. Like you, we face the threat of the land beneath our feet disappearing, and the sea level has without a doubt only continued to rise during my absence. I was told you have a large ship – Junks it is called I believe. I implore you, no, rather I beg you to allow me to fill Junks with provisions and take it back to my people. It is a preposterous request, I know. But you are my people's last hope, Empress Melia."

Thanorlis eyes overflowed with concern for his people. A genuine love for the youngest toddler and the oldest grandfather and for the unity they formed. He knew the thankless burden of leading them in times of crisis, and without the help of others, he would have to witness the slow death of his culture, his friends, and all the pillars that had once provided his life with stability. The Indoline may not be turning into Telethia, but they faced disaster and complete ruin all the same.

Melia knew the expression on Thanorlis' face. So often when she passed a mirror, this expression marred her own face. She knew of this helplessness Thanorlis tried to combat by brushing the hem of his robes. This same helplessness had befallen her, still befell her whenever her eyes wandered across the clouded mountains of the Bionis' Shoulder.

And would she not give anything for a helping hand to pull her out of the storm that threatened to drown her?

A helping hand might not come for her. But Melia could offer this same hand to someone else.

"Of course we will provide you with everything necessary to help your people," she said.

Tyrea stifled a groan. "Just what we needed…"

But Thanorlis didn't hear her and rushed to violently shake Melia's hands. "Words cannot describe my gratitude. This is certainly more than I deserve, but if there ever will come a chance to repay even a fraction of my debt to you, know that I will not hesitate. Thank you, Melia, on behalf of the Indoline people."

Tyrea glared at Thanorlis and quit her position at the door to intervene. "Maybe I'm missing something, but it sounds to me like a single shipload of rations won't solve the problem for long. If the sea level continues to rise like you said, we have to expect you back in what, a month? A week?"

"That may be true," Thanorlis admitted. "But I cannot foresee the future, and I want to believe that better times will come. Perhaps the god who created this world will at last offer his mercy. Perhaps that too is wishful thinking. All I know for certain is that your gifts won't go to waste."

"I saw the starving children on that island," Dunban said. "Anything would improve their situation at this point."

Melia glanced at Aaron. If hers and Thanorlis' situations were reversed… "But will a handful of rations be enough?" she asked.

"Who knows."

"That isn't a good-enough response." Melia took a deep breath and regarded the three people before her with all the self-assuredness expected of the High Entia empress. Lastly, her eyes stopped on the Indoline. "Thanorlis, with all due respect, I suggest you relocate your people. Take them here, to Alcamoth."

Tyrea's poker face crumbled. "What?!"

Dunban gave a knowing smile.

And Thanorlis forgot all his regal mannerisms and stared at Melia like an incarnation of his divine ancestors. "But that's… how would that even…"

"I'm not saying it will be easy. But Junks can be used to transport people just as well as physical goods. Rather than hold onto the belief that the situation on your island will improve for the better, perhaps it is time to think of the Indoline as people, not as an island. I know what it means to lose your home and having to rebuild. And I believe the Indoline can overcome this challenge just as the people of Bionis have done."

Tyrea crossed her arms. "Are you sure you thought this through? You know what will happen to the Shoulder in a few years."

"No one knows the future for certain. I'm willing to try my luck."

Tyrea sighed. "It was because he said you were his people's last hope, wasn't it? You just can't say no when they use that word against you."

"It might have played a role, yes," Melia said with a smile. "Nevertheless, I will continue on this path."

"So much for changing your ways, huh?"

"In this regard, I'm afraid I'm incurable."

Tyrea shook her head, but the smile at the corners of her lips proved she had made her peace with Melia's decision – or she had given up on finding arguments to reach through Melia's alleged stubbornness.

Thanorlis had taken the time during their exchange to rediscover his voice. At least to the extend as to pronounce the question in his mind. "I accept your offer. With the greatest thanks, of course. But why…?"

"Because it is the right thing to do," Melia said.

A nostalgic smile brightened Thanorlis' face. "Remarkable. Shulk used almost the same words."

Melia's chest prickled, and the sensation quickly spread to capture her entire nervous system, and her breath stumbled, strangled by anticipation, longing, no, rather the childish love sickness she had thought defeated. The floor tilted under her feet, but no one else showed a sign of this strange phenomenon affecting them.

"Shulk – you met him?" Melia could swear a tempest of emotions made her voice tremble, but only Tyrea raised a brow. "Is he well?"

"Yes, it was his encouragement that led me here," Thanorlis said. "He has quite the inspirational character, I must say. I don't even think he notices the effect he has on others."

Melia only listened with half an ear. For a sweet second, she gave into the fantasy that Shulk had returned alongside Dunban, that he had at last reached the peace of mind that would allow him to rest; a promise fulfilled, a duty completed, a future ahead. But Shulk hadn't stepped into the room behind Dunban with an unsure smile on his lips, his hands clutched around some invention he had thought up on his journey. The doorframe remained empty. And in truth, Melia knew she wouldn't find him in his laboratory either.

So, she swallowed the question about his whereabouts. Her gaze drifted to the distant horizon, where blue met blue.

Then Melia tore herself back to the present. "We should waste no more time. The faster we complete the preparations, the sooner we can begin to relocate the Indoline people."

"Thank you, truly." Thanorlis let his eyes wander across Alcamoth's dome, the parcs and fountains and the life brimming within. "It seems I was right to believe in the existence of Elysium after all."

"And this Elysium…?"

"Ah, forgive me, it's a mere dream of our Indoline belief. A land without hardship and fear of starvation, if you will, protected from storm and rain. Like with this glass dome."

Melia followed Thanorlis' gaze, and for a moment, the beauty of Alcamoth struck her with full force, removed from the nostalgia of her childhood memories and yet sugar-coated by them to give each arch and glass panel a lively shimmer.

"Your Elysium no longer has to remain a dream," she said. "Even if it may fall short of your vision, Alcamoth can be your new home. But let us not dwell while your people are in need. I will ask Helmaline for volunteers who will pilot Junks."

"I will do that," Tyrea said and stopped Melia's attempt to head towards the docks with an outstretched arm. "You can worry about your other guest. Get reacquainted or do whatever you chatty people do."

Tyrea took Thanorlis' arm in a vice-like grip that threatened to dislocate his shoulder if she twitched. Although he wiggled in her grasp, her death glares silenced all potential complaints. In a rather grotesque picture, she dragged the mighty Praetor out of the room and along the walkway like an ill-behaved child.

This left Aaron, Melia, and Dunban alone with their silence.

Aaron rolled up his drawing and after he climbed to his feet asked his mother with a look who this man was Melia had greeted as a friend a moment before. Dunban likewise studied Aaron and searched for the signs of familiarity in his face. It was all so plain to see. The faint shade of blonde in Aaron's silver hair. The bridge of his nose so often frowned in thought. And lastly the deep blue of his eyes, always looking to places out of reach.

"Your son?" Dunban asked. He struggled to get the words out as if he had carried them with him over a long journey.

Melia nodded. Countless stories and questions filled her head that would begin to bridge the twelve years since they had last seen each other, but she brought out none of them.

"And the father is…" Dunban trailed off.

There was no need to spell it out. The truth stared them in the face.

"Should we go for a walk?" Melia asked before bowing down to Aaron. "Will you go and help Kino find Nene? Will you do that for me? I worry that in the chaos of the refugee camp they will only run past each other."

Aaron cast a last questioning look at Dunban. Then he nodded and approached this new task with this seriousness so atypical for a five-year-old. His drawing in hand, he marched towards Melfica Road. Melia and Dunban followed at a distance.

Few High Entia used the midday afternoon hour to roam the walkways. From here, one could almost mistake the refugee tents for snowy hills or even the preparation work for an upcoming festivity. Soon, the space around the fountains would welcome Indoline refugees as well. Conflicts would no doubt arise, as they always did between neighbours. But little by little, step by step, the people would knit connections. A family of Homs would share dinner with a family of Indoline. A Machina would borrow an Indoline lamp to learn from its design. And perhaps the children playing catch would then add an Indoline child to their ranks, and perhaps they would wait to pull it back to its feet when it stumbled.

Melia rested her forearms on the walkway railing as she overlooked the camp. "I'm glad you returned, Dunban. I have missed your guidance."

"I'd say you've been managing pretty well without me."

"A rather optimistic statement coming from you."

Dunban huffed a laugh. "Yeah, I've been told I became awfully pessimistic in my old days."

"A little unfitting for the hero of the Homs, don't you think? Is it not your profession to inspire the hearts of your people?"

"You and Shulk seem to carry that torch well enough. Although it seems I have more than one reason to cut my retirement short." Dunban paused. He tried to clench the hand of his injured right arm and succeeded without as little as a tremor. After gazing at his fingers in surprise for a moment, he continued. "I'm sorry I couldn't convince him to come back."

"Don't be. I knew he wasn't going to return."

"And you're okay with this?"

Melia's eyes found the horizon. "If that journey gives him a purpose and even a semblance of happiness, then yes, I support his decision. Perhaps he will find his own Elysium on his way."

"And about your happiness?"

The sun peeked from behind the clouds, and the marble constructions of Alcamoth shone in their purest white.

"I'm home. I can wish for nothing more."

Dunban nodded.

Far below, a pink and a green spot shoved through the crowd. When she heard Kino's shouts, Nene stopped and listened before she picked up speed, almost knocking over the unsuspecting pedestrians in her path. Kino wandered in circles until Aaron pointed to where Nene broke through the anonymity of the crowd. Their eyes met. Both cried out the other's name as they raced to meet. They almost missed each other. But then Nene caught hold of Kino's wing and they fell over in a mess of laughter and tears that echoed beyond the boundaries of the camp to chase away the awful quiet of anticipation.

Amidst all the chaos and the trouble, two siblings had found one another.

Life went on.

"I told him to give it to you himself," Dunban said and reached into his pocket. "But you know how deaf he can be. He wanted you to have this."

He handed her a book. Despite the great care with which the owner had treated the item, wind, weather, and a long journey had left their marks on the leather binding. Some edges showed creases, and water spots discoloured the front here and there. Shulk's Collectopaedia.

Melia's thumb hugged the rough pages to confirm it was real. The comforting smell of old paper filled her nose. But she couldn't find the strength to look inside. If she accepted the gift, would she then not accept that he would not come back?

Melia blinked away tears. Then she opened the book.

Shulk had filled the empty pages. Images of fantastical fish and critters jumped out at Melia, drawings of a limestone city amidst the ocean. Short notes accompanied the pictures to complete the collection and conjured precise recreations of swarms of butterflies, of lizards that dove with the same ease as they walked, and of the beam from the Indoline's lighthouse as it illuminated the gold decorations of the faraway city. Each pen stroke showed the artist's fascination for these wonderous sights, and a love for the world peeked out from within the pages.

Melia caressed the pictures and imagined how Shulk had hunched over the Collectopaedia to capture the locations his journey had led him to. She could see his absentminded smile as though he were standing beside her now.

A single drawing occupied the final page. A tall tree, half-obscured by clouds. Its branches seemed to reach across the entire sky. Melia almost believed she only needed to reach out to place her hand against the bark.

Shulk was heading there. Without a doubt.

"I wish I tried harder to convince him to come back," Dunban said. "He wouldn't even let me stick around to keep an eye on him. He's only going to get himself in trouble like he always does."

Melia closed the Collectopaedia. "And he will push through like he always does."

"We don't know half a thing about this new world. How can you be so certain?"

"I have hope."

And she meant it.

14/08/22: So, what do you think? It has been a while since Melia had her last story-changing scene, but I'm quite fond of this one. All the puzzle pieces I have laid out before should start clicking together now that we are nearing the end. Hopefully the journey has been enjoyable for you so far.