On the Edge of Daybreak

by Cori Shadowfang

Four friends, a key, and now a name. Skuld only had the smallest bits and pieces of her previous life, but she'd use them to find out who she was—and try to become someone more than 'Subject X' in the process. (Cross-posted to Ao3.)

13. May We Find Our Happiness

'The aftermath.'

---

Chapter Thirteen: May We Find Our Happiness

Skuld felt a little like she was drifting. She floated somewhere between the past and present, in a strange, hazy place where other people couldn't reach. Sometimes, she was standing in Daybreak Town. Sometimes, she was in Radiant Garden. Sometimes, she was on the deck of the R.L.S. Legacy. Ephemer and Brain and Lauriam and Ven were there, at times, and Lea and Isa, and Jim and Zidane.

And Xehanort.

Skuld stared at him from across a field of stars, flexing her hands.

Xehanort stared back, and it felt a little like when she'd confronted Luxu—like there was someone else beneath his skin.

"Do you regret it?"

Xehanort lifted his head slowly.

She met his gaze and silently urged him to say 'yes.'

Xehanort let out his breath in a huff of a laugh. "It doesn't really matter anymore."

"Xehanort—"

He lifted a hand to forestall the angry shout. "Regret won't mend things, and you know that as well as I do." His voice went very, very quiet. "Perhaps it's best to leave what could have been behind."

---

-"…when will…up…"

"Broken…her heart…might be a while…"

---

-Ava's form flickered, humanoid and fire-like. Skuld sat beside her on the ledge overlooking Daybreak Town.

"Did you know?"

Ava didn't have hands to wring, but Skuld got the impression she was doing it, anyways. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did you want me to go home if I don't have a home?"

"It's—" Ava broke off with a sigh that sounded like crackling flames. "It's complicated."

"'All your friends are dead' isn't that complicated."

"Skuld—"

Skuld stood and left her alone on the ledge.

---

-"Captain. It's…she's not…"

"…have her things…when she's up…"

"…days…"

"Come on, Skuld. Wake up."

---

-Stained glass glowed under her feet. There were hairline fractures running across the image. She thought she could recognize the faces imprinted in it, but she didn't look.

Instead, she stared at the specter of herself at the other end.

The other her looked like she had when she'd lived in Daybreak Town. Star earrings. A skirt. A short-sleeved jacket.

She fingered her scarf. Her flight jacket felt too heavy on her shoulders. "You were supposed to be better."

The other her flashed a sad, tired sort of look.

"You were supposed to be stronger. You're a Keyblade wielder. A Union Leader. You were supposed to be able to save your friends and your home, but you were just as helpless as I was."

"Of course. We're the same."

"You were supposed to be better."

"You can't be more than what you are."

Skuld would've left if she could, but there was nowhere to go, and so she stayed there on that stained glass platform, trapped with a person she thought she'd wanted to know.

---

-"Shit, she's…something's wrong."

"Skuld! Hey, hey, Skuld, come on—"

"Everyone out!"

"Skuld!"

---

-(I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore.)

---

-Everything filtered back in bits and pieces. Muted sound—ambient, mostly, the quiet creak of a chair and the pattering of what might've been rain on the window, dull and slowly growing into focus. Aches in her chest and arms and legs, slowly sharpening into harsher pain in her back, in one of her arms, in her ribs. Sunspots swimming across the back of her eyelids, patterned colors that stayed present even several moments after she opened her eyes.

And the memories.

They swam like fish behind her eyes, poured out of her mind and into her chest, filling it until she thought it would overflow and drown her in them. She swallowed and, for a few moments, just stared at the crisscrossed beams of the ceiling and let the visions carry her.

"This isn't Daybreak Town."

She didn't entirely realize that the scratchy voice was hers at first; the only hint was the pain, rubbing raw against the back of her throat.

The chair clacked against the floor. Someone flailed to catch themself, then said, voice lifting high in relief, "You're awake!"

Skuld tilted her head sideways. There was a familiar boy there, brown hair and eyes, worn tunic that hadn't been exchanged, even after the fall of his world. It took maybe too long to pull the name from her memories: Taran.

"Traverse Town," she said, the realization coming to her slowly.

"That's right." Taran was smiling, and there was something franticly happy in his voice that she couldn't quite understand. "Traverse Town. You and your friends got here about a week ago."

"Friends…?"

(There was something there, somewhere—of screaming helplessly on a broken spit of land, of struggling to pull herself up so she could find the people she was missing, of a friend staying beside her as everything fell, of—)

"Jim," she breathed and, suddenly, it felt like she'd snapped into focus. She surged upwards, feeling like she was bursting out from underneath the water, gasping for breath. "Zidane. Lea and Isa. Are they—?"

"They're okay!" Taran half-stood, hands partially lifted as if he would push her back down. "They're okay. We were just taking turns watching you."

"I need to see them." There was something panicked in her voice, her heart shuddering, her arms quivering, Starlight almost screaming to be called.

"I can get them." Taran made frantic gestures for her to sit back down. "I can get them, just stay here—"

"I can't." It was hard to explain the terrified, frantic thing in her chest, the flickering images of a falling Daybreak Town and Radiant Garden and—

(This had happened before.)

She didn't realize she'd moved until her hands slammed into the door. Pain shot through her arm, white-hot, and she hissed quietly. It felt stiff, and it took until that moment to realize that it was wrapped in a cast.

Everything was bandaged. There was something wrapping tightly around her chest and it ached when she breathed. An awkward bundle stuck to her back—gauze, she realized with a hesitant touch, taped carefully over a large wound. She was wearing a hospital gown, and her fingers danced nervously across it, the familiarity painful and terrifying.

"You were injured pretty badly," Taran said, and he seemed like he was trying to be gentle, but he just sounded scared. "When you didn't wake up after a few days, we thought…"

He trailed off, and a part of Skuld knew that she should try and comfort him, but she had started shaking, good hand fisted in the hospital gown, her eyes darting about the room. "Where are my—?"

There. In a bundle beside her bed: her clothes, patched and washed and folded neatly. Ephemer's journal lay beside them.

Her heart stuttered at the sight of it, and her throat closed, and suddenly she felt like she was going to collapse. (Her friends were gone, she was centuries away from where she was supposed to be, this was all she had left of them—)

She found herself wavering on her feet, suddenly, rocking back and forth as she tried to stay upright. "I want to change." She gave Taran a frantic look. "But I—"

"I can get them. And you can change while I do."

"I need to see them."

"You will. They're not far, I promise! They'd worry a lot less if you stayed here."

The urge to go and find her friends was almost overpowering, but she hated the way the hospital gown itched, too-familiar, against her back. (This wasn't supposed to happen again, it wasn't, she was supposed to be free—) In the end, Taran's promise and her own near panic won out, and she let the boy slip past her, the door clicking shut quietly.

She shucked the hospital gown off as quickly as she could, but her fingers lingered on the clothes. For half a moment, she imagined they were like what she'd worn in Daybreak Town. (Xehanort had taken them from her, too.) The scarf twisted through her fingers, and she pressed it against her forehead, breath shuddering painfully.

(If the scarf came away wet, well—she wasn't going to worry about it.)

She put on her clothes and found that she didn't entirely feel like her. (Except she did.) She had gotten these when she'd had nothing else to go off of. (She'd worn them for so long.) She wanted to—

(She didn't know.)

The scarf was comforting, at least, even if it wasn't quite the same, and she buried her nose in it, breathing deeply. And even if she still felt disoriented and unsteady, well—anything was better than the hospital gown.

Ephemer's journal was still sitting there. She'd had it in an inner pocket, she remembered. (She wondered if Starlight had brushed it, when Luxu had forcibly unlocked her memories.) She went to touch it, then hesitated, hand shaking.

Everything was shaking, and suddenly she found she couldn't stand anymore, her legs practically giving out as she slumped back onto the bed. Her good hand fiddled with the end of the scarf, twisting the slightly-frayed edges and tightening until her fingers turned white.

Hurried footsteps sounded outside the door. Skuld stiffened despite herself, head snapping towards the entryway.

The door slammed open and hit the other wall with a loud bang!

Skuld flinched.

Zidane stood in the doorway, staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

Skuld's shoulders sunk with relief. "You're okay."

"You're saying that? I'm not the one who was out for a week."

"Zidane," said another familiar voice, faintly agitated. "Zidane, move, come on."

Zidane stumbled a little, flailing his arms to regain his balance, and Jim came through the door, looking tired but relieved.

Skuld managed a tiny smile, that panicked, aching feeling in her chest easing. "You're both—you're both okay. I—good. Just—you're okay, you're okay, I—"

Her voice failed, drowned in something closer to a sob, and the world was blurring, but she didn't care, because at least she hadn't dragged both of them to their deaths, too.

"Yeah," Jim agreed, gentle, "we're okay."

"A little bruised and scratched," Zidane added, flopping into the chair, "but nothing we can't handle."

Skuld didn't trust herself to speak, so she just nodded, chest still aching.

The bed dipped as Jim sat carefully beside her.

She looked past him, craning her neck to try and see if there was a familiar flash of blue or red.

"How are you feeling?" Jim ventured, quiet.

"Fine," she said distractedly. "I…how did we…?"

"Cid," Jim answered. "He waited for us."

"Not all Cid," Zidane said. He moved, throwing an arm over Jim's shoulders, despite his protests. "This guy," he continued, "apparently rigged some sort of lifeboat out of spare parts, and then came looking for us in the middle of an apocalypse."

"It's not the first time," Jim said with a roll of his eyes, shoving Zidane's arm off.

Skuld stiffened. "You've seen another—?"

Jim shrugged, rubbing his neck. "It was a while ago," he said, "and it's not like the place was inhabited. So it wasn't really that big a deal."

"Not that big a deal," Zidane mimicked. "Sheesh. Take the compliment. If it weren't for you, both of us would've been stuck there."

"Yeah," Skuld agreed, stomach dropping. "I couldn't—"

(Couldn't get us out, couldn't stop the world from falling, couldn't do anything—)

She glanced at the doorway again, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Skuld."

She dragged her eyes away.

Jim looked…tired. Sad. For the first time, she noticed the bags hanging under his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped like the weight of the world had fallen over top of them. "I didn't find them."

There was a note of apology, there: of grief, and guilt, and fear, and despite half-expecting it Skuld still felt blindsided.

"They didn't go through the portal before it closed. Not that I saw. I tried looking for them for a while, but I couldn't stay forever. And when the world really started to fall—I needed to find you guys."

"I—no." She stood again, wobbly on her feet.

"Woah, hey, easy." Zidane gestured for her to sit back down, expression pinched.

Jim just gave her a tired, resigned look.

"No," she repeated, already starting towards the door. "You must've missed something."

"Maybe," Zidane said, hurrying after her, "but we can look, okay? We can go talk to the other survivors."

"I should've gone with Taran. I shouldn't have—I could've waited a little longer."

"You really need to stay here—"

"I have to find them," she snapped, rounding on Zidane. "I can't lose them, too."

Zidane's expression broke a little, and he looked, suddenly, like he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

The look made Skuld's resolve break apart. He was her friend, and he was just trying to help, and she wasn't the only one that had just watched a world fall.

(Again.)

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that."

"It's alright," Zidane said, but he still sounded slightly off-kilter.

The bed creaked; Jim stood and approached her carefully.

She glanced towards him and felt a bone-aching sort of weariness. It felt like too much, and suddenly all she wanted was to sink back into her memories and let them drag her under. "I'm tired," she whispered.

"Then rest, okay? We'll go look for them."

"But I should be the one who—"

"You're hurt."

She blinked, and for a moment, it looked like she was in the Clock Tower. Her friends were there, watching her with various expressions of concerns. She blinked again, and she was in the cell, Lea and Isa hovering outside it.

And then she was back in Traverse Town, Zidane and Jim giving her those same worried looks.

"I don't know what to do."

"Rest," Jim repeated, and Skuld wanted to laugh, because that wasn't the answer she needed.

"We'll see if we can track them down," Zidane said, voice filled with faux cheer, "and then you can give them hell for not coming to see you sooner."

She put on a smile she didn't really feel, because she knew he was trying for it, and she didn't want to hurt them any more than she already had. "Okay."

It felt like giving up.

Zidane's expression shifted towards something closer to relief, and he nodded. "Be back soon," he promised, slipping out the door.

Jim's attention lingered a moment.

"It's not your fault," Skuld said, and it felt like it came from the old her. (She didn't know which one.)

Jim didn't look entirely like he believed her, but he nodded anyways and left.

Alone now, Skuld sank back onto her bed. She lay across the bedsheets and noticed—really noticed—just how much everything hurt. The fight had drained out of her, leaving her limbs heavy and her chest too tight.

She glanced at Ephemer's journal again. After a beat she rolled over, wincing at the pain in her ribs and arm, and pulled it closer with her good hand.

She still hadn't read it—before, it'd felt almost too personal, and she hadn't had time, and—

("Letters to—? Maybe I shouldn't read it. If it's—it sounds personal."

"Can't imagine any of the people he was writing to are still around to read them.")

"They were to me," she whispered. "Ephemer—" She took a shaky breath. "How am I supposed to read this? I—this is the last thing I have of any of them. If I read it, then—that's it. I'm never going to—"

She didn't get an answer. She hadn't really been expecting one, but she still wished someone would come and tell her what she was supposed to do.

In the end, she pressed the journal against her chest, hugging it tightly, and let the memories sweep over her until she could fall back into sleep.

---

-"When I wake up, you guys are going to be gone."

One of her friends—Ven, she thought—wormed a little closer. They were pressed all around her, near the top of the Clock Tower. The close contact felt both disconcerting and comforting; the memory of Xehanort and his experiments still clung to her like spider webs, but it felt fragile, here. Like it couldn't penetrate quite deep enough to mess with the fragmented memories of her loved ones.

"Yeah," Ephemer murmured, quiet. He was pressed tightly against her right shoulder. (Her bad arm, in the waking world; here, it didn't hurt at all.)

Skuld swallowed tightly. "Can I just not wake up, then?"

"You have to. You can't sleep forever."

Skuld's eyes burned a little. She focused on the setting sun. It made everything look hazy. "I don't want to go back," she murmured. "Everything is—wrong." She took a shuddering breath and stood, dragging Ephemer to his feet. Her other friends scattered, flashing various looks of concern. "We should do something," she said. "Now. While we're still here."

Ephemer had a sad look on his face. "Skuld."

"We can—we can go catch fireflies. There might be some out now. Or we can try and make something. We did that before, right? Or we could go down into Daybreak Town and head to the Market Place. I know it won't be open now, but—"

"Skuld."

The sun was sinking lower. The world was disappearing with it, fading slowly into shadows. Ephemer's eyes were bright, but his hands felt insubstantial. Ghost-like.

"There's so much I want to tell you."

"I know." He gave her a tremulous smile. "You could write us letters."

Skuld laughed, but it sounded broken and shaky. "That you'd never get?"

"I did it."

Skuld's fingers tightened around his. "Don't leave."

The ground beneath her feet darkened. Her friends slowly faded, slipping into the shadows around her. "I'm sorry."

She could feel the stirrings of awareness, barely, and something caught in her chest. "I don't want to wake up," she breathed. "I don't want—"

---

-Skuld woke with a stuttering gasp and coughed. She rolled over, hacking, feeling like she had just been pulled out of deep water. The pain was much more present, now, throbbing through her arms and chest and back. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Steady," someone murmured.

Jim. "When did you get back?"

"A little bit ago. The doctor wants to check you now that you're awake, but you were asleep when we came in."

"Did you…?"

The tired expression on Jim's face said everything she needed to know. "Zidane's still asking around," he said, but he didn't sound like he held out much hope.

"I want to see them, too. The survivors."

"Skuld. You can't."

"I need to."

Jim's expression shifted a little, and after a moment he seemed to break, running a hand over his face and through his hair. "If the doctor says it's alright," he agreed finally.

Skuld nodded, because it was all she could think to do, and then asked, awkward and stilted, "How are you…doing?"

Jim gave an incredulous sort of laugh. "Really? Skuld, you're the one everyone's been worried about. We're all fine."

"No you aren't," she said, and there was more conviction in her voice than she'd expected there to be. "Lots of people just lost their homes. You and Zidane were right in the middle of it."

Jim looked like he was fumbling for something to say for a few moments, then sighed, scrubbing his face tiredly. "Yeah," he agreed, "but neither of us were out for a week. And we still don't know what happened to you."

He was looking at her expectantly, and Skuld was struck with the sudden realization that she would have to tell him. It made something in her chest seize, because saying it would make it that much more real.

(And it felt strange, suddenly, to be looking at him with the weight of her memories behind her; to know that she was someone who was supposed to have been spoken of in legends, in the place made from the bones of her home.

She didn't feel any better than she had before.)

"Zidane said that you were fighting someone," Jim continued gently. "The creepy guy from Destiny Islands."

"I—yes."

Jim was still staring at her, waiting.

Skuld tried to speak, but when she did, it came out as something closer to a sob.

Jim started, eyes going wide, and he suddenly looked like he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing.

"This is all wrong," she said. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"I know. I—"

"No. No, I—" She broke off and gave him a helpless look. "I got my memories back."

"What?" Jim sat straighter. "Holy shit, when did that happen? During the fall? But why would you—"

"Luxu."

"What?"

Skuld studied the way Jim's expression twisted in confusion, and she was aware, suddenly, of the distance between them. "Luxu," she repeated. "The man with the eyepatch. That's his name." Her hand twisted in the sheets. "I did know him, it turns out."

"Did he trigger something?"

Skuld laughed, and it was brittle and hard-edged. "Something like that." She pressed a hand against her chest, where Starlight had gone in. It didn't hurt, but it felt like it should, and she could still remember—

(too full too full pain these can't be why are they what's going on)

"He stabbed me with Starlight."

"What?"

"I don't know what he did with it." The fingers of her good hand curled into the fabric of her shirt. "It didn't leave a mark. But all of a sudden I was remembering things." She heaved a shuddering breath and looked at Jim. As she stared at him, her words died, and she tried to figure out how she was supposed to convey—everything.

Jim's expression started to fall as he stared at her.

"I—" Her voice wavered. "This isn't the first time I've seen a world fall."

It said nothing. It said everything.

Jim took a long breath, like he was trying to steady himself, but his face had gone white. "Oh."

Skuld suddenly felt very, very tired. She stared at the ceiling and wondered, idly, if Jim would let her go back to sleep.

(You can't sleep forever. And you have work to do.)

(The world was falling down around her again.)

The journal brushed the back of her hand. She must've lost her hold on it while she was sleeping.

(Ephemer's letters.)

She glanced at it, then turned away. "Can you—can you tell me what you've been doing? I don't want to—"

Silence, for a moment. "Yeah," Jim agreed, quiet. "Okay."

---

-(Skuld was awake, but it didn't feel like it sometimes.

It would be easy to imagine the fall of Radiant Garden was a bad dream, if there weren't so many ever-present reminders. The injuries, still sore and confining her to her bed. Zidane and Jim, tiptoeing around her like they were scared she'd run. The flashes of memory—how she'd go to tell some anecdote she remembered or talk about something that had happened with one of her friends and would realize that they weren't there and just a week ago she hadn't had any of this.

She felt like someone else. It wasn't the old her, but it wasn't Subject X, either.

She didn't know what to do with any of it.)

---

-"I'm going to need to give you an exam."

Skuld's shoulders tensed.

The doctor watched her nervously. Behind him was a girl—around her age—and Blank, both waiting with expectant expressions.

Skuld's eyes darted to the doctor's nervously-wringing hands, to his pinched expression, to his supplies. She nodded tensely and closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath.

The doctor sighed with relief, almost imperceptible if she wasn't listening for it. There was a rustling, clinking noise as he shifted through his things. Skuld's fingers curled into the sheet, and she took a slow, steady inhale, held her breath, then released it after a long moment. She repeated the process, again and again, as the doctor worked. He mostly avoided touching her, occasionally asking for assistance from Blank and the new girl to do something, though she wasn't sure what it was.

And then: "I need to check your wounds."

There was an apology, there, and Skuld stiffened, asking half-panicked, "Can't that wait?"

"It can't. I need to make sure that they're healing alright."

"There's magic that can—"

"There is. But no one here knows anything strong enough to fix everything."

"How?" she asked, and she was surprised enough that her eyes snapped open. "We used to heal broken bones all the time back in—"

(Daybreak Town.)

The others stared at her as the seconds ticked by. "Back in…?" the doctor prompted gently.

Skuld stared at her broken arm, still in its cast. There were memories there, now: impressions of fighting Heartless, of the sharp snap of an injury and then the cool sting of a healing spell. (They still didn't feel entirely like hers—like they were something implanted by someone else, by Xehanort or Luxu or even Ava. Touching them felt fragile, and she thought they might break under her fingertips.) "The bone's already set," she murmured, and then she looked at the doctor for confirmation. "Right?"

"Well, yes."

She nodded, then took a deep breath and placed her hand on the cast. Reaching for magic had felt so foreign before, but now it seemed as easy as breathing; green light flickered from her fingertips and hued her cast. The ache in her arm intensified for a moment, burning and tingling, and she hissed quietly between her teeth as there was a snapping, cracking sound. And then the light faded, and she found her shoulders relaxing minutely.

"When did you learn—"

"I always knew it."

"I don't think you did."

She blinked, because—that's right. She hadn't. The reminder made something distressed flicker in her chest, and she took a shuddering breath. Her ribs twinged painfully, and she placed her hand against her chest and funneled magic there, too.

"My dear, maybe you shouldn't—you've been under a lot of stress, and I can't imagine that your magic—"

"It's fine." The ache in her ribs faded; her head swam a little, and she rocked, but braced herself against the bed.

"Now, hang on a moment." The doctor's stern voice forced her to turn his way. "Keyblade wielder or not, you aren't invincible. I don't care what sort of powerful magic you've learned, you're still a child—and an injured one, at that. You need to rest."

The words stung sharply; she knew, she knew that the doctor didn't mean anything by it, and she bit her tongue against angry words.

The doctor sighed, seeming to take her silence as acceptance. "I will still need to check the wound on your back," he said. "Assuming you didn't heal that, as well?"

She shook her head.

"Alright." He hesitated a moment, then asked, "May I?"

She took a breath and nodded.

The bandages came away slowly. The doctor was careful, but Skuld still clenched her hands tightly into fists. "It was probably easier when I was asleep, huh?" she asked, voice shaky.

(They didn't really feel like her words. She wondered how long this would last—feeling like she was trapped between two different people, with no idea how to reconcile them.)

(Getting her memories back was supposed to make things better.)

A hesitation, then. "I suppose," the doctor agreed, "but I prefer having you awake. Less worry about your life if you're aware and active." A pause. "Aerith, come here, please."

Aerith. The other girl, she guessed. There were hesitant footsteps. Skuld could feel the girl waiting by her bed, and she wondered what she was doing up until she felt the faint sting of a weak Cure spell. Oh.

"It looks alright," the doctor said, "all things considered. No infection. It might take a while to heal completely, though."

"Unless I recharge enough to fix it."

"There's nothing wrong with letting it heal naturally. Or letting the rest of us help."

Skuld braced herself as a new set of bandages wrapped around her waist and back, trying to keep her breathing steady. She didn't quite relax when the doctor stepped away, but some of the tension in her shoulders eased.

(She felt different than she had before, but only in the wrong ways. It wasn't supposed to be this hard.)

It took her a few moments to realize the doctor was still giving her an expectant look. When she glanced at him, he sighed. "Your physical health isn't all I'm worried about. I'm also slightly concerned about your…mental state."

Skuld stiffened. "I'm fine."

"With all due respect, you were on a world that fell. It's to my understanding that you…lost people?"

(She knew he meant Lea and Isa, but she couldn't help thinking of Ephemer and Brain and Lauriam and Ven and—)

"They could still be alright."

The doctor had a tired expression on his face that Skuld didn't like. "Regardless," he said, "that's going to have an effect on your psyche."

"I'm fine," she repeated with more bite. "It's not the first time I've seen a world fall."

"Mister Taran's world was a bit of a different scenario."

"That's not what—" It took her a moment to remember that the doctor wouldn't know—last everyone had known, she hadn't had any memories.

"That's not…?"

"Nothing. I—" She broke off and tried to ignore how her throat suddenly felt like it was closing. "How long do I have to stay here?"

The doctor didn't look entirely happy about the change in subject, but he accepted with a sigh. "I'd like to keep you under observation for a few more days, just to make sure you're healing okay. After that, you're free to check in with the crew."

She nodded, even if it wasn't entirely what she wanted to hear.

The doctor studied her, then sighed and began packing up. "Come on, you two. I suppose we should leave Skuld in peace, for now."

Skuld's fingers curled against the covers. She waited there, still and silent, until the doctor and Blank had left the room.

Aerith hesitated.

Skuld gave her a curious look.

She took a breath, fidgeting with her hands. "You—you don't know me, but I'm one of the survivors of Radiant Garden."

The words felt like a punch to the gut, some strange mix of grief and relief and anger.

Her eyes flicked to Skuld's face and then away. "Your friends told me that you knew Lea and Isa."

"You were friends?"

"No. Just—just classmates. But they seemed nice. When they started ditching school and running away after class, I thought it was strange. Not so much for Lea, but Isa never liked to miss class. I tried to ask them about it, once. They were really cryptic, and I never got an answer." She gave Skuld a rueful look. "I guess now I know."

Skuld's eyes burned, and she nodded.

"I think they were still looking for you, you know. They became apprentices under the Sage King."

"What?" Skuld nearly shot out of bed. "Why would they—they knew about Xehanort, they shouldn't have—were they still there? When the world fell?" Skuld's hand went to her head. "No, I saw them out in town—but they said they were heading back. Maybe they weren't—" Her eyes darted to Aerith. "You didn't see them?"

Aerith was watching her with a sad, lost sort of expression, and it dawned on Skuld that this was another kid who had just lost her world. "I was at school," she said, and Skuld thought her voice might break. "Yuffie dragged me away to hide when everything started. Cid found us hiding near his Gummi ship, and he got us out of there, and that's all I know. I'm sorry."

Skuld wanted to tell her it was alright, but it didn't feel alright—not when Lea and Isa were—

(They can't be gone.)

"I just—I wanted to say thank you." Aerith was crying, now, voice wavering. "If you and your friends hadn't—I don't know if many people would've gotten out at all."

"I couldn't stop your world from falling." I couldn't save my friends.

(This had happened before.)

"How were you supposed to?" Aerith asked. "That's too much for anyone."

I'm a Keyblade wielder. If I had just been a little quicker—if I had just been better, I could've sealed the keyhole. I could've fixed this.

Aerith gave her a shaky smile. "I just—I just wanted to say that." She turned to leave, but paused at the door. "I hope—I hope things get better soon."

The door clicked shut. Skuld sat there, alone, shoulders shaking. She choked on her breath, then pressed her fists to her mouth. Despite the healing spell, everything still hurt, and she pulled her knees up to her chest and cried.

---

-The Radiant Garden survivors filled Traverse Town's streets. Most of them seemed absorbed in their own worlds, talking to each other or drifting or trying to wrangle children. Skuld didn't think they noticed one more lost face, about to enter the crowd.

"Are you alright?" Jim asked, quiet. "We can go back."

Skuld's mouth was dry. She shook her head. "Zidane is—?"

"Helping. Along with Tantalus. They needed people to get supplies."

"Right. Are these all—?"

"Not all of the survivors. Some of them are still over on Atlantis. We've been trying to help everyone figure out whether they want to stay there or move here or…come with us, I guess." Jim's eyes roved across the survivors, and he looked just as lost as she felt. "I think—hey, Preston!"

The old man turned towards them, from where he was talking to an old woman and a younger man. His eyes brightened a little, and he waved, then faltered, expression falling.

Jim frowned, then glanced at Skuld and blinked. "Hey." He touched his cheek.

It took a moment for her to understand; she gently touched her cheek and her hand came away wet. She stared at it blankly. "Oh. I—"

(Preston was the last one to talk to Brain. He was the last one to see one of her friends alive.)

She turned away sharply and headed into the crowd.

"Hey, wait!"

Skuld's eyes flicked across the crowd, searching for any sign of Lea or Isa in their midst. She half-expected people to look up and notice her—to have their eyes light with recognition, and for them to flicker with anger or grief or fear, because she'd been the one who had tried to save them and she couldn't.

(Couldn't save your friends twice over.)

Instead she was—well. There was still recognition, but not the kind she was expecting. It was the sort of recognition that said, I know you. You're like me. It was the same sort of expression she'd seen on many people from Traverse Town, when their crew had first arrived here.

It felt like she understood it a little better, now.

She forced herself to look away. "Lea?" she called tentatively. "Isa?"

No one responded. She hadn't entirely expected anyone to, but it still stung.

Her throat tightened. "Do you think they—?"

"What?"

"Radiant Garden. They might not have gotten off the world."

Jim was silent for a few moments. "No."

"We need to go back."

"Go back? Skuld, there might not be anything there."

"I can get there. I can check. I need to—"

(They can't be gone, too. Please. After everything—I can't.)

There must've been something in her expression or voice, because after a moment Jim murmured, "You're not going to want to go alone. And there might be people who want to go with you. From here." He gestured.

Skuld looked at the survivors and realized that most of them didn't have any sort of belongings—just themselves and the clothes they wore. Some had a couple of small bags, but most wandered around, empty-handed. "Yeah," she agreed. "It might be good if they could find something."

"I'll talk to the captain. She can try and organize a crew." Jim gave her a sideways look. "She's going to want to talk to you, too."

Skuld had no idea what she was going to say to her after everything, so she just nodded and hoped that was acknowledgement enough.

---

-Radiant Garden was still there. But—well. It wasn't like it used to be anymore.

The world was still in ruins. What had survived the onset of the world's fall was crumbling and broken; the castle had managed to hold up the best, but there were still parts of it that looked dangerous to try and traverse. Bits of land floated unnaturally, almost, hovering above the surface. Other parts stuck out of the water like bones. Plants drifted along, and Skuld absently lifted one, twisting it between her fingers.

She wondered if this is what Daybreak Town had looked like, after the end.

They rocked there on their little collection of boats, staring out at a sea that hadn't been there before. Everything felt eerily, disturbingly quiet.

"Hell," someone whispered behind her.

Zidane made a quiet whistling sound. "Man. That's—a lot worse than I was expecting."

"It's not," Skuld whispered. "Not for me. I knew it would still be here."

She could feel Zidane giving her a strange look.

She took a shuddering breath, then glanced towards Jim. "We should—we should search for survivors first."

Jim didn't try to argue with her, and for that, she was grateful. He just turned towards the other groups, calling, "You guys can pick up anything you might need! Meet back here in an hour. If you see Heartless, run."

The crew on the boats nodded and steered their vessels away.

Skuld watched them go with a tightening chest and throat. She wondered if she should go with them—she was the best suited to fighting Heartless, after all. But—

But I need to see if I can find them.

Jim steered them through the waters, navigating carefully around pieces of debris. Zidane used a pole to check ahead of them, making sure they didn't scrape against something hidden. Skuld stared across the surface; she found herself pacing back and forth, casting glances back towards the castle every now and again, or to the sky, or to some of the bits of land. "There's not enough cover here."

"It's okay," Jim murmured.

"Yeah," Zidane added, not turning away from his task, "if Heartless come, we can take care of them, no sweat."

It's not the Heartless I'm worried about, she thought, and then felt foolish for thinking it.

She didn't know how long they traveled. They stayed quiet, largely, all trained on their individual tasks. Skuld's eyes flicked desperately across the water, and she didn't know if it would be better to find Lea and Isa or if it wouldn't.

"I should've talked to them."

Her words came out quiet, but they traveled in the silence.

She could feel Jim and Zidane staring at her.

"When I saw them. I should've—you were right. Having my memories shouldn't have—"

She strained her eyes. She half-thought she could see flashes of them, sometimes. She thought it was probably a trick of the light.

"If I had talked to them, then maybe I still would've been there when everything fell. I could've gotten all of us out, and then—"

"Hey," Zidane said quickly. "You can't blame yourself. You didn't know."

"If something like this had happened to Tantalus, wouldn't you have felt the same?"

Zidane fell quiet.

"You talked about finding people who felt like home."

"That's right."

"I—had people like that, once. I was so wrapped up in trying to find them that I didn't realize they were already gone. And then—Lea and Isa. They made things feel better, and maybe I should've—"

"You didn't know." Jim, this time.

"I wasted so much time."

"You didn't waste anything."

She didn't know what to say to that besides a rebuttal, so she whispered instead, "The last time they saw me I was in a cell. I didn't—I never got to say goodbye to them."

Neither Jim nor Zidane seemed to know what to say to that.

This search felt like a half-desperate, frantic attempt to find people she knew were gone. It also didn't feel like she could give up, because—

I've lost everything else. What am I supposed to do, if I can't find them?

The castle stood as an imposing specter over the rest of Radiant Garden. It looked like a hollowed out shell of its former self, now, broken and tattered. Skuld's eyes kept being drawn to it, and for a moment, all she could see was—

(the keyhole chamber fighting trying desperately to reach)

"Can we head towards the castle?"

Silence for a few moments, even the water going still. "We can," Jim agreed carefully, "but—"

There were a lot of ways to finish that, she thought. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to acknowledge any of them. "I just—I need to see."

(Lea and Isa had been heading back to the castle.)

(Xehanort had been there, too.)

Jim didn't say anything for a few moments. Then, carefully, he steered them towards the remains of the castle.

---

-Stepping into the castle felt distinctly uncomfortable, but not in the same way it had when it had still been completely intact. She closed her eyes, and it felt like she was walking into the Clock Tower.

(She couldn't help but notice how out of place she felt. Like she didn't really belong here anymore.)

"I'll keep the boat steady," Jim murmured.

"Right." Zidane landed beside her, tilting his head in a question. You lead.

(It'd been the same sort of thing, whenever they'd gone on some sort of adventure to find out more about the Keyblade.)

She took a step. And then another. And then she was moving, carefully, through the remains of the castle.

No Heartless came to greet them. It felt a little like she was walking past ghosts. She wondered where the scientists had been. If they had been down in the lab. If they had known what had happened. If they had gotten out, or if they had perished when the world fell. (She wondered if there had been any people left in the cells by the time everything had crashed down, and the reminder of where she'd come from scratched uncomfortably against the memories of her from before.) She carefully clambered over crumbling stone, ducking underneath fallen archways, wading cautiously through patches of water, exploring a place she'd never been allowed to before.

The lower parts of the castle had sunken beneath the water. Skuld stared at the surface and wondered if, should she dive down deep enough, she'd find Xehanort's corpse.

"That's where the monster makers were," Zidane whispered.

"Did you—did anyone try and stop you?"

"No. I didn't see anyone there. But there were so many, and I just didn't have the ability to destroy them all before time ran out."

"That's why you came looking for me."

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. He went quiet after a moment. "I got a glimpse of the cells."

Skuld's shoulders stiffened.

He didn't say anything more about that. He just took a steadying breath and seemed to try and brace himself. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine."

"Well, that feels like a lie."

"I don't think it matters."

Zidane fell quiet.

Skuld's eyes burned. "He's gone."

"Yeah. Probably."

"If he's gone, then—I should be happy."

"I don't think it's that easy."

Skuld's breath hitched, and she choked on a sob. "He used to talk to me about his dreams," she said. "His memories. He was so convinced finding them would fix things. I never got to tell him I found out where he came from. I never got to tell him that finding them changed nothing."

(She didn't think she was talking about Xehanort anymore.)

"…I wish the whole castle had fallen down."

"I mean, there's still time. If you really wanted to, I bet we could wreck the place later. Nobody's going to come back here."

(It's not a home anymore.)

"…I want to see if—I need to know if my things are here. And Lea and Isa's. And—"

"We can look." Zidane tilted his head back the way they'd come. "Come on."

Skuld let him take the lead, this time. They found the places where the scientists' rooms had been—and now she wondered if one had been Lea or Isa's, while they'd been staying here, in some half-desperate attempt to look for her.

(This is my fault.)

There wasn't anything there, anymore; parts of the rooms had crumbled, and the water had swept away most of what was there. Skuld still picked through them, hoping to find some sign of her friends.

Instead, she found a single star earing, floating in the water. She scooped it up carefully. "Xehanort did keep them."

"You find something?"

Skuld's fingers curled around the earing. "Yeah." After a moment she put it in a pocket.

From where she was, she had a good vantage point to see what Radiant Garden looked like now. She didn't think there was any salvaging the world—it would take a significant amount of rebuilding, and there were still Heartless lurking here, and there were likely too many bad memories for people to want to come back.

This place hadn't been her home, really, but there was a strange sort of grief as she stared out across it. Most of her memories here were negative, but—she'd wanted the chance to make good ones. To spend time here with Lea and Isa.

And now she couldn't.

(It made her think of Daybreak Town and her lost friends, and she wished, desperately, that she could still make memories with them. But that opportunity had disappeared a long time ago, in a dark chamber with a friend smiling down at her.)

"We should go."

"Are you sure?"

Skuld nodded. Her mouth tasted like ash. "The hour's almost up. And I don't think there's anything left to find here."

---

-As long as Skuld had been here, she'd had a goal. Find her memories. Find her friends. Make sure Lea and Isa were okay, and then save Radiant Garden, and then try and find any survivors, and—

And now she didn't know what she was supposed to do.

She threw herself into helping the survivors, for the time being—helping them get settled, helping them get supplies, helping them learn more about Traverse Town and discover their new home. But she knew it was only a matter of time before she wasn't needed here, either. And after that—

She didn't know.

She didn't need to run from Xehanort anymore, but the thought felt strangely hollow. She was free to go anywhere she wanted—but did it matter if she had nowhere to go?

For all of the time she'd spent trying to figure out how to manage things after getting out of the cell, she had never felt so out of place.

(Things were supposed to be better.)

---

-There was a nightmarish hue to her dreams, every time she closed her eyes.

She wasn't sure if she was in Radiant Garden or Daybreak Town or somewhere else, the pieces all mashed together in one chaotic image.

Xehanort was there. He stood over her, weapon raised. The world rumbled, crumbling around them.

She was lying in the lifeboat chamber. She was lying in her cell. She was lying in the keyhole chamber. She was staring at an opponent who she couldn't beat, no matter how hard she tried.

Jim and Zidane were there. Lea and Isa. Ephemer and Brain and Ven and Lauriam. They were behind Xehanort, trapped on a crumbling world, and she couldn't get to them.

"Please," Skuld breathed. "Please, I thought we were friends."

"We are," he said, and his voice was gentle, despite the cold expression. "This is for your own good."

She couldn't move. No matter what she did, she found herself set right back to the beginning, and she lowered her head, closing her eyes and hoping that the strike was quick.

A beam of light. A sharp, stinging sensation as something rushed overhead. Xehanort jerked with surprise, and Skuld lurched in turn, almost ready to try and heal him, despite—everything.

Xehanort gave her a tired, sardonic sort of look. "Ephemer saved you before," he said. "I wonder who will save you now."

---

-Skuld woke up and felt like she couldn't breathe.

She needed to go. She needed to go, she needed to go, the world was falling, her friends were in danger, Xehanort could be—

"Skuld?"

"Hey, Skuld, hey—"

"We need to leave," she said, breathless, already moving towards the door.

"What?" She couldn't figure out who that was; she didn't have time, she just needed to get them out, get them to safety—

"We need to leave," she repeated. "We need to get somewhere safe, I don't know where Xehanort is, he could—"

"Skuld. Skuld, I need you to breathe with me. Okay?"

"We don't have time."

"I know. I know, but you're not going to be able to fight right if you're panicked, are you?"

"I'm not panicked, I'm not, I'm—"

"Just—just breathe with me, okay? And then we'll go with you."

Her eyes, finally, focused on Zidane. She watched as he inhaled, miming for her to copy.

She took in a shuddering breath that stuttered on the way out.

"Okay. Okay, that was a good first try. I need you to try again, alright?"

"I can't, we don't have—we need to go."

"Why do we need to?"

"Because I can't lose you, too!" Her legs shook and gave out beneath her. "I can't."

Zidane knelt. She could feel Jim hovering nearby, like he didn't entirely know what he was supposed to do.

Skuld's fingers pressed against the wooden floor. It was solid. Warm. Stable. The world wasn't falling. Zidane and Jim were here, safe. Xehanort had disappeared with Radiant Garden. So why did it still feel like her heart was going to explode from her chest? Why couldn't she stop shaking? Why did her chest still feel so tight that she couldn't breathe?

"It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Zidane's expression turned sympathetic. "I know."

"No you don't," she whispered. "It's—" Getting my memories back was supposed to fix things. It wasn't supposed to hurt anymore. I wasn't supposed to be— "Everything was supposed to be okay."

(It was what Xehanort had always told her. And, somewhere along the line, she'd fallen for the lie. But, she supposed, so had he. Look where we both are, she thought. Was it worth losing everything, chasing your memories?

She didn't know who she was talking to, anymore.)

"I know," Zidane whispered again. "I know."

And he didn't, but she didn't call him out on it, this time, because she saw the panicked concern underlying his calm façade, and knew that he was just trying his best in a bad situation. She leaned back against the door—and it took her until that moment to realize she'd gotten that far, her bedsheets tangled on the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. The last week or so's been…a lot."

Jim settled beside her, finally—close enough to touch, if she wanted, but far enough away that it would have to be a conscious move on her part. "Nightmares?"

Skuld bit her lip and nodded.

Jim gave a tired sort of laugh. "Me, too."

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I—do you want to talk about them?"

Jim gave her a long look, then sighed, leaning his head back against the door. "I see the falling world a lot," he admitted. "I have nightmares that I don't make it in time to save you guys. Or that I'm swallowed up with everything."

"…I don't really remember mine," Zidane admitted. He collapsed to the floor with them. "I know I have them, based on the fact that I'm always kind of panicked and tired when I wake up. But I can't actually remember what they're about."

"Don't apologize again," Jim said.

Skuld started, "But—"

"No. Both of us decided to go with you, and no one knew that the world would be falling. That's not your fault. It's Xehanort's."

"It feels like my fault."

"It's not. The guy made his own choices. And besides—if we weren't there, then maybe no one would've gotten out." Jim's shoulders slumped. "It just sucks that we all had to see it."

Skuld bit her lip and nodded.

"Hey," Zidane said after a moment, "why don't we tell ghost stories to pass the time?"

"Ghost stories?" Jim repeated incredulously.

"Sure. What else are you supposed to tell at midnight? Besides, I don't think any of us are going to be getting much sleep for a while."

Skuld managed a tiny smile, despite herself. "I like telling stories," she admitted, and it dawned on her for the first time that she had some, now. It felt like the first good thing that had come out of getting her memories back. "I used to share them with—"

(Ephemer and the others.)

"Something wrong?" Zidane asked.

"I—no. It's okay. But I can go first." When Zidane and Jim both gave her nods of encouragement, she launched into some story she plucked from the depths of her memories, talking animatedly and hoping that it would chase the nightmares away.

(She caught herself thinking that she'd need to share the stories with Lea and Isa, every now and again. And every time her voice would die, and then she'd launch into another tale, voice shaking just a little, and try not to think about it.)

---

-Amelia had set herself up in an unused room in Preston's home. There were precious few items packed into the room—just a couple of things that Amelia had time to grab, apparently, as the ship was collapsing. Skuld stood in the space and tried not to feel too much like the walls were pressing down around her.

She caught sight of a familiar torn map, pinned carefully to one of the walls. "Why'd you keep this?"

Amelia followed her eyes. "I told you—it was a gift from a friend."

"Worth grabbing even when the ship was falling apart?" She glanced towards her, something bitter entering her voice. "It's useless."

"It's broken," she correct, "not useless."

"Was it really worth saving?"

She wasn't sure she was talking about the map, anymore—and from the expression on Amelia's face, she knew that. "I believe so." She cleared her throat. "But that's not why I wanted to talk to you."

"Going back to Radiant Garden was reckless. I know."

"It was," Amelia agreed, "but I can hardly fault you for wanting to protect your friends." Her voice turned gentle. "I didn't bring you here to scold you. I wanted to tell you that you did something very brave. All three of you."

That wasn't how Skuld had expected this conversation to go at all, and her throat tightened. "I didn't do enough."

"You did all that you could to help the people around you. That's always enough."

"Does it mean much to the people who are dead?"

"How many more do you think would be gone if you weren't there?"

Skuld sucked in a slow, shaky breath.

The silence stretched for several heartbeats. "We'll be leaving in a couple of days," Amelia told her quietly, "if you want to join us."

"You found a ship?"

"Someone who can take us back to port. Other ships will take over our route."

Skuld's throat tightened. "What'll happen to—to all of us? The people who don't come from your world?"

"They'll be brought safely home."

"Oh." She hugged the journal to her chest. "I—I only joined the crew because I wanted to find out more about the Keyblade." About her friends. About her home. And then she'd gotten answers and lost everything that mattered in the same instant.

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do now. She wasn't sure where she was supposed to go.

"You'll always have a place with us," Amelia said, quiet, "if you want it."

She stared at her for a long, long time and tried to figure out how to answer. "I'll think about it."

Amelia nodded, and Skuld carefully stepped out the door.

---

-Dreaming was easier, sometimes. Because in her dreams, her friends were still there. In her dreams, everything was okay. Lea would be talking excitedly to Ven about something, and Lauriam would be keeping an eye on them, desperate to reign them in. Isa would be keeping half an eye on them and acting like he wasn't. Jim and Brain would be talking about some project, and then Jim would break off, shouting at Zidane and Ephemer as they got in trouble.

And she would be there, too. In her dreams, she could still talk to her friends and tease them and—

And she didn't want to wake up, really.

It was easier.

---

-"Jim and Zidane were looking for you."

Skuld glanced at Taran's reflection in the window. His eyes were worried. After a moment, she looked away.

"You guys are leaving soon, right?"

"The crew is. Yes."

"Are you staying?"

Skuld still couldn't quite bring herself to look at him. "I don't know."

"I think you might have to decide soon."

Skuld just blinked slowly and leaned against the wall.

"I'll, uh. I'll let them know you're doing okay." He backed out of the room, and the door clicked shut.

The room wasn't silent, entirely—the old building creaked a little, and there was a skittering in the walls, like a mouse or rat or something had snuck inside—but it was enough that it made Skuld's thoughts feel a little more all-consuming. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to just breathe.

When she opened them again, she caught sight of a fox's reflection in the window.

"What do you want, Ava?"

The reflection tilted her head.

"What more am I supposed to do? You wanted me to go home, but I don't have one. There's nothing left."

Ava moved. Skuld pulled away a little, but after a heartbeat, she realized the fox was going to jump onto the desk, not the bed.

And then she noticed she was heading towards Ephemer's journal. "Don't touch that," she snapped, hand hovering over it, just in case she tried anything.

Ava paused. She glanced between it and Skuld.

Skuld's breathing turned a little more erratic. She tried to steady it, hands and body shaking.

After a moment Ava placed a paw on the journal and, gently, slid it towards Skuld. Images flickered, barely-there, against the backdrop of the room—of the fountain, the Clock Tower, the familiar streets and buildings.

("I want you to go home.")

Skuld flexed her fingers, shoulders locked. "He's not there. He's—Ava, he's gone. All of them are."

She pushed the journal a little closer and sat back.

"This isn't going to—what? What do you think this is going to do? This is just—" A bunch of letters that mean nothing in the end.

("He wrote the letters to you.")

She exhaled slowly, shoulders hunched near her ears.

It took several moments but, carefully, Skuld's fingers brushed the cover of the journal. She slid it from the desk to her lap. It felt warm, almost; she wondered if Ava had anything to do with that.

A shaky breath. Tremoring hands. A quiet loneliness that made her chest ache. She thumbed the cover, fingers carefully running along the edges of the worn pages.

"What am I supposed to do? What did you guys do?"

She wanted to talk to them. There was an ache in her chest as it hit her again that they just weren't there anymore. There were no new conversations to be had.

Except, she supposed, for the ones that had been recorded here.

Opening it almost didn't feel like a conscious choice. Her fingers pressed against the worn pages and her eyes traced the old script without entirely reading it.

'To Lauriam, Brain, Ven, and Skuld.'

Her eyes caught on the names again, and she breathed out slowly, hand running across the letters.

Her eyes were drawn almost unconsciously onward, down the page, down to the start of the first letter.

'So, uh. Hey guys. It's been a little while since we've seen each other, huh?'

She didn't know if she wanted to be reading this, really.

'It's been—oh, geez, has it been a month already? Time really flies when you're—uh. You know, never mind.'

But there was a familiar cadence there; something in the words that lulled her into a strange rhythm, persistent and comforting.

'So I guess I should give you guys an update? Probably. I mean—you didn't exactly see Daybreak Town after the end, huh?

'Oh, wow, that sounds way more depressing than I wanted it to.'

She could hear him saying it, almost, and imagined the awkward half-smile he'd give with the words.

'But, I mean—it's not that bad. Well, it is, but'

The word broke off—no punctuation. It took her a moment to realize that was probably intentional; that Ephemer had likely stopped writing, then continued to a different thought, and Brain had done his best to accurately recapture what their friend had written.

(And she couldn't help but wonder what Brain had thought when he'd started recording these. If he'd felt just as lost. If he'd wanted someone to tell him what he was supposed to do, too.)

'Everything's underwater. Sometimes I see bits of buildings and stuff sticking out from it—and that's a little creepy. It reminds me of like—bones, almost. Dead giants. Man, that'd be a story. Hey, Skuld—do you think people will make up stories like that if they find this place?'

She'd expected it, almost—seeing her name again. Preston had said that Ephemer talked to them, after all. But it still made her breath catch in her throat.

'There's debris floating everywhere, too. Well—not as much, now. I think a lot of it's drifted away. But I still run into it sometimes. It looks a little spooky in the daylight—the water's sometimes really still, and it makes it feel like I'm floating on a mirror. But at night—man. The stars. The houses look a little less like houses and a little more like mountains or rocks or something. The entire sky's reflected in the water; you can run your hand through it and almost feel like you're touching starlight.'

(Skuld thought about stretching her hand out and running it through the open space around them, just to see what it felt like.)

'Anyway, not everything's waterlogged. I found a couple of buildings where the upper stories were kind of dry? Dry enough, anyways. I salvaged some paper and other supplies from them, but mostly I've been living in my lifeboat. The buildings aren't, uh—they aren't exactly stable.

'But that's all boring stuff. What have you guys been doing? Did you end up somewhere cool? You'll have to tell me when I see you again, alright? Promise!

'Ephemer'

It was the start of a story—the start of a story of the boy who would become the Master who founded Scala ad Caelum. It was her past, in more ways than one, and even if she knew that Ephemer's experiences were different, there was an immediate kinship there, because—

"Did he really think he'd see us again?" Skuld asked in a whisper. "Even after…?"

(She supposed it wasn't that different from her. The only difference was that he could remember, and she…hadn't been able to.)

She itched, almost, to respond. She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to talk to him, and this was the only way she could, really. But—he wouldn't ever get this. The words were set in stone.

(Ephemer had assumed that his friends wouldn't get his letters, either.)

Ava was still watching her.

"It's just one letter."

But there was a whole book more of them in her lap—a whole book of letters from a dead boy to friends he was never going to see again.

They were the last words of a friend she was never going to get to talk to again—and unlike her imaginings, these were real. These had his voice. These were him speaking to the four of them, however far away they were—even if they couldn't ever really respond back. And suddenly, she realized how much she wanted to find out what he'd left behind for them.

'To Lauriam, Brain, Ven, and Skuld…'

It wasn't that hard, really, to get dragged into the stories. It felt a little like coming home; like sitting in the Foretellers' Chambers, listening to her friend as he chattered about something, or staying up late at night as they tried to figure out how to manage things in Daybreak Town. The conversation was, inevitably, one-sided, but that was alright; she could almost, almost imagine that these really were just sent from a far-off friend, not written by someone who had passed away years ago.

'Today the sunset was really pretty. It reflected across the water and made everything look like it was on fire.'

'I found a couple charms floating in the water! Not sure if they came from the Market Place or from someone's apartment.'

'I went out a little further today. I just wanted to see what was out there, you know?'

Some letters were short—just quick observations about his day. Others were longer, rambling on and on. It made him feel very present, even if he wasn't really here at all.

But he'd ask questions, sometimes. Things she didn't really know how to answer.

'What have you guys been up to?' (I've been looking for you.)

'Did you see anything cool?' (I…did. I've been traveling with a merchant ship. I've been—Ephemer, I've seen so much. I wish I could tell you about it.)

'Did you guys ever figure out how to travel to different worlds? I haven't, yet.' (I did. Did you know there's a whole trade system, now?)

And then:

'The water's going down!'

Skuld knew something would've had to happen, but she found her heart beating faster, anyways, a tiny smile stretching across her face. It felt, almost, like she was in the lifeboat watching the water recede with him.

'I'd kind of started to wonder if that would ever happen. It's been…geez, a few months, I think? Uh, I'm not really sure. I write a letter on most days, so…

'Okay, yeah, about three months. Wait, that's since I started writing letters. Four months, then. About. Uh, I kind of…lose track of time a bit.'

(I know the feeling, some part of her whispered, and for a moment, she saw herself back in the cell, wondering how much time had passed.)

'But anyway, it's way lower now—enough that my lifeboat actually hit ground. Ground! I think I'd almost forgotten what that felt like. I just collapsed on it for a little bit. It was wet and muddy and gross and amazing.'

(She was laughing in a field, fingers combing through the grass as she realized she was out.)

'It looks really different, though. There's enough land that I can walk most places, but there are still a lot of really big pockets of water. The buildings are all broken. There are a couple that are kind of standing, which is pretty amazing, honestly.

'The fountain's destroyed. Well, partially. Water's still running from it. It's—I tried sitting on it, for a while. Just to remember what things were like. It was—ah. It wasn't the same.'

It was a helplessly familiar feeling—of seeing something that should be familiar and comforting, and realizing it was gone and that there was nothing you could do to bring it back. Her eyes burned as it hit her all over again that this was true of Daybreak Town—and she realized that Ephemer had likely felt exactly the same.

She suddenly, achingly wished she was there. I get it, she thought. I've seen a world fall before.

So have a lot of people here.

She wondered if Ephemer would've liked talking to the people of Traverse Town, too.

(This was the story of how Ephemer would go on to found Scala ad Caelum, told in his own words. It ended in triumph, of a sort—but it began in a grave and, inevitably, he was going to come across the bones of something once familiar.)

'I saw the Clock Tower today.'

The words looked like they'd been pressed into the pages—like a little more force had been needed to keep them steady.

(Skuld wondered what it had been like, to walk between the skeletons of houses, to see them and wonder where the people had gone. And then, she realized, that maybe she knew—it wasn't so different from going back to Radiant Garden, to seeing the hollowed out corpse of the castle and realizing that everything was different now.)

'Went to the Clock Tower. I couldn't recognize much of anything.

'I tried to salvage some things from your rooms.

'I checked the computer for data Daybreak Town, but I couldn't get it to turn on.'

(Radiant Garden didn't have the impact that Daybreak Town did, but it had still been home, for a while—whether she had wanted it to be or not. There weren't many good memories there, but she still grieved for it—and she thought she knew what Ephemer was feeling, digging through the remains to try and salvage something that he could hold onto.

It wasn't really a surprise when he fell apart. It's what she wanted to do, herself.)

(What she'd been doing.)

'Hey, I know I don't normally write to you guys this late, but…

'I've been having nightmares. Since the end. I keep—Skuld, I keep seeing their face. When I had to—'

It felt like she'd been punched, because for a moment, she could see—

(The face of her friend, of Xehanort, of Luxu, standing over her on a shadowy background.)

She was so absorbed in the image the next line almost didn't register.

'"Ephemer, it wasn't your fault. They were going to kill me."'

She stared, the quote breaking her, for a moment, from her thoughts. She read it once. Twice. Tried to really comprehend what she was seeing. He's…he was imaging how I'd respond to him. If I was there. Her throat tightened, because those imagined conversations were familiar, too—that desperate ache to just talk to someone, to be able to reach out to your friends and be heard and have them comfort you when the whole world was falling down.

(But Ephemer had no one at all, and she had at least had—

"Skuld—you really don't have to do this alone.")

'I know. I know, but

'"What's done is done. Can't change what happened, right? Doubt they would've wanted you beating yourself up over it."'

The words were shaky, like Brain hadn't been able to keep his hand steady when he'd written them.

'Probably not.

'"Are you okay?"

'I

'No

'"It'll be fine, Ephemer! You just have to"

'…

'…This is stupid.'

"It's not," Skuld murmured. "It's not, I would've wanted—"

(But what could she say?)

'Lauriam, is this what you felt like when you lost your sister?'

(It wasn't like she could do anything to comfort him, any more than he could comfort her.)

'I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. I—Brain, you'd know what to do. You'd be able to tell me how to fix things. But what am I supposed to do when

'I miss you. I miss you, I just—God, I wish you were here. I just want to talk to you guys.'

(But—)

'Please talk to me.'

The beginnings of words beside it, scribbled out, like Brain had started to respond and then stopped. The paper was torn a little where he'd been writing.

'Right. Ghosts can't talk.'

"Why did you want me to read this?" Skuld asked. "It's just—I can't—"

Ava, very gently, tapped the page with her nose.

("It's not the end.")

"I know he eventually creates Scala ad Caelum," she murmured, "but I don't—"

Reading the letters, she didn't feel like she was reading the words of the first Keyblade Master. She was just reading the struggles of a boy who'd been left alone in an impossible situation, grieving for people and a life that he couldn't get back.

It reminded her, she realized, very much of herself.

Maybe that's why she found herself scrambling for some sort of pen. It took a moment of rummaging, but she finally found one in the desk, rattling around in the drawer.

She pressed it to the page and hesitated for only half a heartbeat. It was a very old journal, after all. A relic of history. Something that maybe she shouldn't be messing with. But—

("Please talk to me.")

It was also created by her friends.

'Ephemer,

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry we left you alone. But you have to know that you created something that still lives on in legends. In us. And I am so, so proud.

'It's okay. It's okay. It's not going to be the same, but it's going to be okay. I promise, you're going to be okay. One day.'

(You're going to be okay, Skuld.)

Her eyes burned. She choked on a sob and scrubbed at her eyes.

Traverse Town didn't have much of a day and night cycle; the light from the streetlamps flickered the same, no matter the time of day. Skuld wondered how much time she'd spent, reading the words of a dead boy.

She supposed it didn't really matter.

(She knew he'd be okay, but. She needed to see it.)

'To Lauriam, Brain, Ven, and Skuld,

'Hey. I, uh. Sorry about…you know. I was kind of'

'It's hard. Without you guys, I mean. I want to talk to you so bad, but you're just…not here. Chirithy is, so I'm not completely alone, but. It's not the same. And I don't really know if I'll see you again. I might not.'

Skuld's pen scratched across the paper. 'How did you manage it? When you figured out that you weren't going to see us again—how did you manage to deal with it?'

("Well, like I said—I'd like to be friends. If you'd let me."

"It's just—I just wanted you to know, I get it. About losing people, I mean. Sometimes it makes you—it hurts. And it can make you angry."

"You can't fix every problem with ice cream."

"I can fix this one! We'll be making new memories. Better ones. Right?")

'But, uh, I've got some good news—I think I might've finally figured out inter-world travel. It's just like—you know how we'd use portals to get to different places on missions? It's like that. Except a little different? You have to have a decent idea of where you want to go, I think. Maybe that's why we couldn't figure it out before?'

(She was standing on the beach, staring at the portal in front of her, and listening as her friends cheered from behind. There was a smile slowly breaking across her face, because—that's right. Having her memories wouldn't have helped with that, would it? This was something she had figured out all on her own.)

'Um, anyway. I think I kind of went into shock when it worked. Because, like—I stepped into a room filled with people.

'Okay, but seriously—there were people! I think I really freaked them out, and they were so scared about the 'ghost' or 'monster' or whatever that I had to go back through immediately, but—they were there! I…I might've cried a little.

'…Okay, yeah, I cried a lot. (I'm fine, Ven. They're happy tears.)

'I've been exploring a lot more, since then. Daybreak Town's still kind of my home-base, but I've been trying to go to other worlds more and more.

'I'm, uh. I'm a bit out of practice talking with people. Like—okay, so here's a story: there was this group of people that were at a shop, right? Like one of the ones at the Market Place. I heard them talking a little about how fruit prices have been going up, and I said, "Man, those are some bad apples, huh?" And they just…stared.'

Skuld snorted and pressed a hand against her mouth. Her pen scratched across the page in a quick response: 'Ephemer, no.'

There were words scribbled out beside it, like Brain had started to write a response, too, then stopped.

After a moment, Skuld's amusement faded into something a little more somber. It was a familiar feeling, she realized, staring at Ephemer's words; she'd felt much the same way, trying to interact with people after being in a cell for so long. 'When I—' She broke off. Talking about the cell, the experiments, Xehanort—it felt wrong, almost. They were things that she'd kept close to her chest; it'd taken her a long time to even tell Jim and Zidane.

But—well. She'd wanted to be able to talk to her friends about things. To sort out the confusing knot of emotions that had tangled in her chest. And she was never really going to get the chance to talk to them, but—

Her pen touched the page. 'I didn't end up in a very good place. I was in a cell for a while, and—and I really didn't get to interact with very many people. When I got out, I didn't really know much of anything.' She thought of staying in Tut's house and almost laughed. 'This old farmer took me in for a little while, and I didn't realize how weird it would be for me to touch everything in her house.

'…But I wasn't entirely alone in the cell. There were these two boys—Lea and Isa—who came to visit. They were—I wish you guys had gotten to know them.'

A drop of water on the paper. Another. Skuld wiped her eyes quickly and hoped the ink wouldn't smear.

'I…I didn't actually leave. I just—I don't know! I've missed talking to people! So I'm dealing with the slip-ups.'

Another set of scribbled words; Skuld could almost see the sort of contorted expression Brain had likely made when he transcribed the letter.

'I've also been…uh. I've been trying to renovate things in Daybreak Town? Or, at least, a house. I need somewhere better to stay, anyways. It's…it's going? I…don't really know a whole lot about building things. But I remember having to do some of this stuff before, so I'm trying. It's at least stable, I think. It…doesn't really look nice, but it's okay.

'I have a couple of plants, now. I picked them up on another world. I thought about having them just because then I could grow food, but honestly, it's just because they reminded me of you, Lauriam. Oh—I also found these star stickers? You and Ven would like them, Skuld. I put them on the walls. Just to make things feel a little…brighter, I guess.

'I love you. I miss you.

'Ephemer'

Skuld flipped the page.

'To Lauriam, Brain, Ven, and Skuld,

'So, you're going to laugh, but I might've kind of forgotten that you need money to get supplies and food in…a lot of worlds. In my defense, though: I was stuck in Daybreak Town for a while.'

It looked like that had been enough to finally, finally break Brain, because there were a selection of words scrawled, a little less neatly, beside the letter.

'Ephemer.

'No

'Why?

'I'm going to figure out how to travel back in time solely to keep you from dying, because God knows how you've survived this long.'

Skuld sputtered with laughter, because it felt so familiar, and she didn't really have time to think before she responded: 'Broke your silence finally, huh?'

'Finding jobs is kind of hard, though. I mean—I don't have a lot of experience with things? And a lot of people think I'm kind of weird, so, uh…yeah. But I think I kind of found something. It's—not exactly bounty hunting, I guess. I tried that for a bit, and it felt a little too weird. But I can use my Keyblade to fight off wild animals. Or act as a bodyguard. Or stuff like that. It—it kind of took a lot of convincing for some people. Others were really freaked out because of it, but I mean—it's something, at least.

'The jobs keep me busy. I don't mind them; it means less time stuck in my own head.

'I wonder what you guys would think of all this. If you would recognize me, if you saw me.

'I don't think I always recognize myself.'

To the side, just slightly off-centered, were words that spoke volumes: 'You're not the only one who's changed.'

It was an achingly familiar feeling.

The words came free, scribbled beneath Brain's, frantic to try and explain herself to someone. (To people who understood. To people who had known the old her, once, and who would understand how scary it was to realize you might have become someone that your friends might not recognize.) 'I don't recognize myself always, either. I've been—I don't know. I went through…a lot. I lost my memories, and then I tried desperately to get them back, because I thought it would help me make sense of who I am and—and I thought if I found you guys, everything would be okay. But it didn't fix anything—it hurts worse, and I feel like I'm not really the same person in my memories anymore. I feel like I'm not the same person that you loved, and—I don't know if it matters, because the old me really wasn't any stronger. Any braver.'

(But, she supposed, maybe that was true of all of them. Because Ephemer wasn't really some legendary figure—here, he was just her friend, just as scared and confused as she was.

And there was a part of her that realized her friends would protest that—because she could remember, now, the nights where they would sit up with her when she couldn't sleep. Playing games when they had free time. Decorating the Clock Tower. Cleaning, of all things.

They were memories that were easy to ignore, in her grief, but—she had been loved, once. For all her faults, her friends had loved her still. And there was maybe a part of her that understood that wouldn't change, for all she felt broken now.

She still loved Ephemer, after all—and he wasn't the same person he'd been, either.)

The journal started as a story.

It ended as a conversation.

'So, uh…you know when I was saying I could renovate a house? I was…maybe a little too optimistic.'

'I feel like I don't want to know.'

'It can't be that bad, can it?'

'Good news: it didn't fall on me. Bad news: it did still kind of collapse.'

'I was right.'

'Oh.'

And:

'I was talking about my house collapsing, a little, on the last job I picked up. A couple of people overheard me, and they offered to come help me fix it? Which was really nice, but—I don't know. How am I supposed to tell them it's on a totally different world? Or explain the portals? Or…anything?

'I don't know. What do you guys think?'

'YES.'

'I'm with Brain, please get help.'

And:

'Okay, listen, I know it sounds kind of crazy, but—I agreed to let those guys help me.'

'You're right. Pinnacle of bad decisions, there.'

'Careful, you'll jinx it.'

And, later, a scribble of what looked like crayon along a mostly-abandoned page, and an apologetic note from Brain:

'My daughter decided she wanted to help.'

'You should've let her keep going! She seems cute.'

(Conversations, fragile and quiet, growing in confidence. They had known each other once, and then they didn't, and now they were becoming reacquainted, through bits and pieces that they'd left behind for the people they loved to find. There was no reason, really—just that desire to have a connection. To be able to reach each other again.)

'More people have come to help with rebuilding. Which has been weird, but nice. I mean, I didn't really expect so many people to want to help out?

'When they got here, though, they just got…really quiet. I kind of forgot how Daybreak Town would look to everyone else; I've been here so long that I'm just…used to it. But when I got looking, I could kind of see it. The houses are all broken and deteriorating. The streets are cracked. There's water everything. It doesn't really look like any place someone should be living.

'They want to rebuild it. And it's weird, because—I don't know. I know it's not going to be the same, and that makes things…kind of scary. Because…look, okay, I know it's silly, but I thought that maybe things could just…go back to the way they were. But I think everything's too broken, and—and it's better to make it so this place feels alive again, right? And besides, wherever you guys ended up, I want you to have somewhere to go back to. Somewhere that's home, even if it's not the same place.

'Someone suggested rebuilding using stone. It'd hold up better, they said. I was—I don't know. I was kind of hesitant at first, but—it might be better. It won't look the same, but I don't think things every will be, and—it's better if it lasts.'

Brain hadn't written anything until the bottom of the page, and it felt like a pause in the conversation—a chance to let Ephemer speak, to absorb the information he'd been presented.

Of the three of them, Brain had written the least about what he'd been through. He had mostly left joking or exasperated remarks, quiet comments, or she'd have to pick up tells from the way he'd write things.

But there was a weight to his words, however brief: 'Scala's still here. You succeeded. I hope that you know that.'

("Losing yourself, losing a world—they're similar enough, I think. Similar enough that I know you can't always get something back once you lost it."

"Then what else am I supposed to do?"

"You move forward, and make something new. It'll be different from what was left behind, sure—but that doesn't mean that it's bad. Healing is hard, sometimes. Things don't always fit together the way they used to. And it can be scary, to look at everything you've lost and realize you don't know what you're supposed to do or recognize the person you are after everything. You've just got to take it one step at a time.")

'I had a couple of people ask me about what happened here. Why I stayed. I think most of them knew that I used to live here, but

'I told them. Everything. Finally. And it was…kind of weird, but also kind of freeing. We had to keep everything about the Keyblade War a secret from the Dandelions, and then I didn't talk at all about my past for so long that it was just…nice to talk about everything and have people listen. I told them about my Keyblade, and the Foretellers, and how Daybreak Town was created, and the Unions of Keyblade wielders who lived here. And then I told them about the war, and about the Darkness, and about how everything fell apart.

'And I told them about you guys. I told them about you, Brain, and how you were super smart and were the one who made sure that at least some of us got out. I told them about Lauriam, who helped look after us and who will hopefully, finally, have the chance to find your sister. I told them about Ven, who wasn't originally supposed to be one of us but fought Darkness to save us, anyways. I told them about you, Skuld, and the stories you'd tell, and that you'd always, ALWAYS do everything you could to save the people that you loved—even if it meant doing the impossible.'

(She was staring at herself across a stained glass platform.

Her specter stared back.

"They loved you."

She gave a tremulous smile. "They'd love you, too. After all, we're the same.")

'And I told everyone about—them. Not as they were at the end, but their dedication to doing the right thing, their love for their friends, the happy times we shared. Once I started talking, the stories just…wouldn't stop. I wanted people to know you guys. All of you. I didn't want to be the only one to remember, because then when I'm gone…who would be left to remember that any of you were here?

'I talked a lot longer than I planned. I think pretty much everyone stopped to listen. It was dark by the time I got done and I could've kept going. It was just…nice. To be able to relive some of the memories. A lot of them hurt—especially towards the end, when I remember what just…isn't here anymore. But talking about some of them felt like coming home.

'I want to keep telling stories about you guys. I want everyone who comes here to know who you are.'

(I want to tell your stories, too. And about Lea and Isa. And about Jim and Zidane and the crew and—

I want people to know.)

(She'd always been partial to telling stories.)

'I wonder what you guys are like, now? It's been…a couple years since Daybreak Town fell. I don't think I'm the same person I was. Maybe you guys ended up in this time period, right now, and you haven't changed. Or maybe you ended up somewhere else and it's been several years for you, too.

'Would we recognize each other, if we met again? I don't know; maybe we wouldn't. Maybe we would, but maybe we wouldn't have the same sort of connection. Maybe our friendship only exists in memories, anymore.

'But that's okay. It still meant the world to me. It might not be the same, but it still mattered.

'It's what's kept me going this long, after all.'

'Okay, you sap.'

'You say that like you didn't transcribe all his letters, Brain. …It kept me going for a long time, too.'

'Lauriam, we have gardens everywhere. I've been helping plant them—it feels like finally something I can help with, haha. We wanted to make it really beautiful, if people were going to live here.

'Ven, I told people that you were really good at wind spells, and they latched onto it; there are a lot of windmills and stuff everywhere. Someone was talking about wind power? Uh, not sure how that'd work.

'Skuld, there's an observatory. I thought—wouldn't it be cool if everyone could see the stars easily and make up their own stories? You'd probably love it.

'And yeah, Brain, there's a library. I think you'd like most of the place's aesthetic, haha—some of the workers had their own ideas about what they wanted the place to look like.

'It's been fun, though. Building things.

'My place has a lot of rooms. They're for guests, mostly—I like having company. People can tell me all sorts of stories, and I can tell them things, too. But…admittedly, they're also for you. I don't really think I'll run into you guys again—not in this lifetime—but just in case.'

(The story was winding down. The day was ending. Her friends were fading into the twilight.

But it was a bittersweet feeling, to have this one last conversation with them.)

'Hey. It's been a little while since I've written to you guys. Time's just kind of gotten away from me, I guess. I promise I haven't forgotten about you, I've just been busy.

'So, what's new…well. Big thing: I have a daughter now. I…geez, it really HAS been a while since I've written, because she's

'Hang on. She, uh. She wants to say "hi."

In childish scrawl were the words: 'Hi, my name's Kari, and I'm five!' She couldn't tell if Brain had tried to accurately recreate what the words had looked like or if he'd been struggling not to laugh as he'd written them; it made her smile, anyways.

'She's pretty cute! I can…um, I'm not the best at drawing, but I can try and draw you a picture?'

'I'm not trying to recreate that, Ephemer.'

A wet laugh. 'Chicken.'

'That's…alright, yeah, not the best. But I promise you, she's adorable.

'She asks me about you guys all the time, you know. I wasn't lying when I said I hadn't forgotten you: I tell stories about you. To the people I teach. To travelers. And to my daughter, who absolutely thinks you're the coolest people ever. She keeps asking when she's going to get to meet you, and I keep having to tell her that it's probably not going to happen. It's hard for her to understand, I think: that there were people who were so important to me that just simply aren't around anymore. Sometimes that's hard for me to understand, too, but—there are pieces of you still here. Parts of you guys, parts of Daybreak Town, parts of the person who I used to be. None of it's the same—but it's okay. It's okay, because that's…I think that's what happens, sometimes. Nothing ever gets to stay in our lives forever. Eventually, people will leave. Houses will fall apart. Children will grow up. You will change, and the person you were won't be around anymore. And sometimes—sometimes you'll lose everything in a way that makes it feel impossible for things to get better again. But slowly, step by step, you can start to build yourself back up. It's not easy, and maybe you never stop hurting entirely, but…you find ways to live around it. You find more people that you'll love. You build a new home. You watch your children have children and get to experience their own adventures. And you learn to love the person you've become.

'I still miss you guys. I probably always will. But I'm never going to forget that you were my home, once. If there is anything that I'd wish for you…it's that you guys would find your happiness, too. That you'd live. That you won't let your memories of the past hold you back from experiencing whatever life you've found yourself in. Moving forward isn't easy, but…I hope you do.

'I love you. Always.

'Ephemer'

There were no more words left to say. She was out of space. Out of time. The sun had set, and now she was left with the dying embers of a conversation, still warm in her hands.

Her breath shuddered in her chest. We didn't get enough time. She had thought, once, that they would have—if not forever, then at least the rest of their lives. There was no way she could've predicted where she would end up, or how things would fall apart. Where any of them would end up.

But there was nowhere to go but forward.

Skuld scrubbed her eyes and went to close the journal—and only then did she see the careful words scribbled on the back of the last page: 'Check the back cover.'

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed; the cover looked blank. Her fingers ran along the edges, and—

There. A seam, of sorts, and a raised section on the inside of the notebook. She carefully ran her nails underneath it.

It popped open easily. A folded bit of paper fell into her lap, and she picked up the worn item carefully.

It was…a map, she realized. Part of it had been torn away, but—

Scala ad Caelum.

There, clear as day: a star, marked out on a chart.

Skuld's breath caught. Oh. She thought of Preston, handing her this journal and suggesting she start looking here for answers. Of Brain, passing it along to someone else. Brain—did you know? Did you hope that one of us would find this?

Did you want us to come back home, too?

Her fingers ran along the torn edges. The map wasn't complete, but it reminded her a lot of the one Captain Amelia had.

Ava was still watching her, glowing brightly in the dim room.

(There were words in the back of her head. Of a different conversation, in a different place.

"But he did find out where he belonged."

"But I thought you said—"

"That he didn't find out where he came from. That's right. But the two things aren't the same. The thing is, it didn't really matter, in the end. He had people that loved him. A home. That's what was really important. But he couldn't see that until he went out searching.")

Skuld lifted her head. Scala wasn't home—not the one she remembered. But it was the place that Ephemer had made for them, and she—

She wanted to see it.

Her fingers slipped into her pocket. They fingered the edge of her earing; she pulled it out after a moment, reaching for her ear. The holes had closed, but she pressed the earing in, anyways. Her fingers lingered on the earing for a moment, hands shaky.

Ava's ears pricked.

She straightened, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a little more like the person she wanted to be. "Okay," she said. "I'm ready to go home."

---

The chapter title is actually just my plea, because the alternate title for this chapter is "Cori Suffers."

In all seriousness, though, this chapter was…way more difficult to write than I thought it'd be. I went into this chapter thinking, "This is about grief and the aftermath of trauma. I know how to write that. This'll be so much easier than the last two chapters." And then it was ten times harder. Most of it was the letter scene; I wrote and rewrote that scene, I scrapped huge chunks of it, I almost cut it completely, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it. I almost want, like…another week with this chapter, but I also don't want to think about it anymore, so, uh…I hope it is good enough.

Also, thank you Lacan Shinn for reviewing last chapter! For the review response: I'm glad you liked it! A lot of effort went into the chapter, so I'm glad it turned out alright. The ending wasn't a reference to that Lord of the Rings scene (at least, not intentionally; I DO love that scene, haha); it was just meant to reference the ending of UX (which is where the quotes came from). And I think I probably didn't explain myself very well with my last review response, because calling this a duology is…a bit of a misnomer? Since that implies On the Edge of Daybreak is canon to Dandelion Seeds, which it…isn't necessarily. Uh, to clarify—Dandelion Seeds is canon to On the Edge of Daybreak, but On the Edge of Daybreak is only one possible future coming off of Dandelion Seeds, so it isn't SPECIFICALLY canon to it, if that makes sense. And any other UX fics I write will likely be in the same vein—Dandelion Seeds is basically a jumping of point from which a lot of different possible stories can spring. For the con crit: the bold was mostly a leftover because I was playing around with how I wanted to format that to make it stand out. Considering this is fanfic, and it's a very small thing, I'm not too worried about changing it.