Author's note:

Alright, here's that chapter I promised! Can't believe I churned this baby out in less than a week, but it's here and I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out. A few events occur in this chapter and we get a glimpse of what's happening from all angles. So, strap yourselves in and enjoy!

Resonance of Faith

by Dark Interval

Chapter 2: A Time For Repose

"Urgh…"

Fayt groaned as he slowly felt himself come to. Tentatively, he opened his eyes, only to wince and snap them shut when the room started spinning. That was when he realised two things: he had no idea where he was, and he had no bloody idea how he even got here. Well, apparently I'm in a bed. And if the telltale quality of the cotton sheets and down-stuffed pillows indicated anything, he was probably somewhere safe. However, after being stuck on this planet for a while and having grown accustomed to its dramatic, fast-paced events, inactivity worried him, and being alone too long left one feeling horribly paranoid.

First thing's first...

Fayt braced himself, took a deep breath and slowly sat up... only to immediately regret yet another poor decision he made in this particular period of his life. The room swam. It took a whole lot of effort to resist throwing up. His head was pounding like crazy, like someone was dousing it with alcohol and beating his brain silly with a jackhammer at the same time.

What the hell happened? I was fighting a war… Vox… The Republic… then lasers and… Roger!

Fayt hissed as both hands flew to his head in a bid to stifle the pain. Oh God… why did his head hurt so much? And why couldn't he remember anything?

"Don't kill yourself, kid. Y'know, I was afraid you'd never wake up again."

Fayt cracked an eye open in a half-hearted attempt to glare at the speaker and unwanted guest. He recognized that gruff voice anywhere; had not forgotten the shit its owner put him through on the battlefield, as well as the lingering sense of betrayal he felt in his chest when things turned to shit after Cliff finally spilled the beans when the Vendeeni attacked. Honestly, he didn't trust the Klausian – didn't want to; but between an anti-Federation agent and bloodthirsty Vendeeni soldiers hell bent on his case, he figured he didn't really have much of a choice.

Cliff continued to stare at him as he pretended the other did not exist. The first few seconds proved effective enough, but Fayt wasn't 5 years old anymore and ignoring someone wasn't going to make them go away.

When it became apparent that conversation could no longer be avoided, Fayt mentally counted to 10, swallowed thickly and broke the silence, "Where am I?"

Cliff took a second or two to gather his thoughts. "Castle Aquaria," he said without giving too much away. "We're back."

"And Airyglyph and the Sanmite Republic…?"

"They're here too," Cliff's eyes darted to the side, regretful. "We managed to save as many lives as we could during the evacuation through Peterny. The nations are mourning. Now's not the time for war."

Fayt bit his lip as he struggled to process their newfound situation. He had known what he was getting himself into when he agreed to participate in the war alongside Aquaria, was prepared for the sacrifices and repercussions when he went back on his word if only to keep a certain humanoid boy safe. His heart leaped to his throat at the mere thought of his little Menodix.

Roger…

Even now, he couldn't stop thinking about the terrifying way Roger had looked at him when they confronted his father: biting cold and distant like the howling winds of the frigid Airyglyph mountains. Such an expression did not suit him; Roger had treated him as if they had never even met – and somehow, Fayt found that thought more horrifying than being stuck on this godforsaken planet. But the damage was done; mistakes were made; and not even weeks of sleep could erase the pain and regret Fayt felt in his heart. And that, coupled with the dozens of humanoids he slaughtered in cold blood during the heat of the moment; the Menodix would surely never forgive him. Still, he had to know. His tortured heart would never know rest if he didn't.

"Is… is Roger all right?" he whispered, voice betraying the urgency he felt tearing away at his chest. If Cliff noticed anything, he never said a thing.

"Yeah. It was just a hard knock to the head. Nothing some ice and a couple of bandages couldn't fix," Cliff answered with a rueful chuckle. "The brat's lucky he's got a hard head to match that stubborn personality."

That was when Fayt noticed a slight redness on his bodyguard's left cheek that looked suspiciously like a handprint. It was small and slender and appeared to have faded a little over some time. Considering the circumstances and the blonde's history with a certain Aquarian, Fayt had his suspicions; and seeing that Nel was nowhere in sight, he probably had a good idea what happened while he was asleep. Poor Cliff. If things had been different, he would have laughed at the affinity of their romantic predicament.

"... That's a relief," Fayt bit out for a lack of better words, clenching and unclenching the sheets between his fingers.

Perhaps it was time to change the subject. Although he wanted so badly to seek out the humanoid and ensure he was well and truly alive with his own two eyes; touch and hold Roger close with his own two hands; feel his soft breaths against his lips; he didn't know if it was a good idea to confront the boy now, much less if Roger still considered them to be lovers after everything that had transpired in the last few hours (assuming it was still the same day). Fayt didn't want to think about that.

"And the Vendeeni?" he enquired.

"Don't worry about them now," interrupted a new voice, her forwardness making Fayt jump from where he sat.

Mirage was tucked inconspicuously at the corner of the guest room, posture as poised and still as a statue, one would have failed to notice her if she never breathed a word. The blonde beauty pushed herself off the wall she had been leaning on and approached Fayt with a concerned yet kind smile.

"How are you feeling, Fayt? Can you stand?"

To test her question, Fayt made an attempt to swing his legs over the edge and push himself up, only to moan and fall back onto the mattress when his vision tipped and started to go all woozy. It also didn't help that his body felt like it had been put through a blender and spat back out.

"Nrgh! I'm aching all over…" he winced and grabbed his head. "And why does my head hurt so much?" It wasn't like he hadn't engaged in serious combat before; after all, he had enough experience with the battle simulators on Earth and his experience here to amount to something.

Cliff and Mirage shared a troubled look. "Well–"

"You really don't remember, do you, Fayt Leingod?"

Now Fayt really did jump to his feet from that sudden, unexpected voice, never mind that he would come to regret his actions later. Who the hell was that?! And exactly how many people were here with him in this room? Honestly, he didn't think he could handle any more surprises.

A proud and elegant young woman about a head shorter than him stepped forward from the shadows and stopped at the foot of the bed just two steps from where Fayt stood. Her features were soft and lovely; big, bright emerald eyes gazed at him in both curiosity and awe; her pink, glossy lips quirked up every so subtly in a small smirk. She wore what appeared to be dark military garbs that clung tight and hugged her body in all the right places; the skirt of her mini-dress ended precariously above mid-thigh showcasing a pair of long, slender stocking-clad legs; an armor padded cropped jacket and long outer skirt completed the look. All in all, her garments appeared better suited for the more developed quadrants of the galaxy, like Earth or Expel, clearly indicating that she wasn't from around here. There was movement, and Fayt's gaze dropped instantly when the mysterious female casually placed a hand on her hip, and that was when he noticed the intimidating phase gun strapped to a holster on her right. Now, Fayt didn't know much about guns – he was more of a sword enthusiast himself – but he had an inkling that hers wasn't standard Federation-approved weaponry.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" He demanded, voice pitching from the shock and panic. To his annoyance, the strange girl simply sniffed and flipped her long, blue hair in a gesture that could only be described as haughty.

"I did my research," was her flippant response, and as if to challenge him further, began listing out his traits and preferences in uncanny detail:

"Fayt Leingod: only son of the universal authority on symbological genetics, Professor Robert Leingod. Born on Earth, currently 19 years of age. Favorite sport: basketball; position: point guard. Hobbies include: competitive gaming, particularly battle simulation. College major: symbological engineering. Your favorite food is–"

"Woah, hang on just a second!" Fayt raised his hands to stop her in case she accidentally divulged anything too private. He did not appreciate random people digging through his personal life, thank you very much. Besides, it was intrusive as hell and downright creepy.

"How– no, why do you know so much about me?"

"I'm on a mission to locate your father, as well as ensure your safety. It's my job to know these things," she replied simply as if commenting about the weather. Then, she extended her hand in formal greeting, "Where are my manners? I'm Maria Traydor, leader of Quark. But please, call me Maria."

What?! Fayt would have slapped her hand away if he hadn't already accepted it. This beautiful girl was the leader of one of the galaxy's largest anti-Federation organizations? But she looked so young – maybe around his age! How did someone like that become commander of such an extensive operation?

"Ah, uh, umm…" God, what should he say? "N-Nice to meet you. Could you please answer my questions now?"

Fortunately, Maria did not seem to take offense to his rudeness.

"I suppose I should," she said with a sigh as she crossed her arms. "Alright, what would you like to know?"

Well, that was surprisingly easy.

"Ok… Why did the Vendeeni capture my dad? Why are they after me? What is it about me that they're so interested in? What is it about me that you're so interested in?"

"Relax," Maria interrupted, maintaining a face of calm despite the urgency of their situation. "There's a lot to explain, but first– she turned to her subordinates – Fayt's powers manifested, didn't they? I saw it from my ship."

Fayt frowned and regarded them curiously. Powers? Manifested? What on earth was she talking about? And why couldn't he remember anything past the rage and devastation and cradling Roger's limp body in his arms?

"They did, just once," Cliff confirmed solemnly. "He was stronger than expected, but that could've been supplemented by his emotions at that time. Particularly, his destructive capabilities are far beyond yours."

Maria frowned. "His emotions?"

"He almost lost someone he deeply cared about from the Vendeeni's attack," supplied Mirage. "That's when they manifested and you know the rest."

"I see…" she trailed off thoughtfully, rubbing her chin. Interesting. "And his memory?"

Cliff shook his head. "Nah. It's as good as amnesia."

It was then Fayt decided that enough was enough. He did not appreciate being talked about so callously like he wasn't even there. The way the three Quark agents so openly discussed about him made him feel like a lab rat being examined inside a cage. Did they forget he was still here, or was this a very Klausian thing to do? Come to think of it, was this Maria person even from Klaus? She most certainly didn't look the part; then again, Mirage wasn't exactly the sweetest flower of the bunch herself. He just assumed Quark was made up of majority Klausians. Heck, he knew less than a fraction of her than she did him – and they had just met! Now they were going on about some power he supposedly possessed? This felt so surreal...

"Would someone please tell me what the hell's going on?" he asked on the verge of snapping. Why was Quark's leader being so difficult? And why was she looking at him like that? Almost like she felt sorry for him.

"... I'm sorry, could you spare me a moment, Fayt?" Maria looked him in the eye and Fayt could immediately sense her sadness and concern. "First, I have some new information. It's about your father, and… it's not exactly good news."

She closed her eyes momentarily and desperately raked her mind for the nicest way to break the truth to the handsome, young Earthling.

"Well, you know that your father was captured by the Vendeeni, right?"

"Yes…" said Fayt warily.

"And you really don't know why, do you?"

This was getting incredibly frustrating. "So tell me why then!"

Maria turned to face the hotheaded teen."Fine," she conceded. "To put it bluntly, your father took it upon himself to carry out forbidden research." At Fayt's dubious stare, she pressed on. "You heard me. For years he's researched and designed a genetically modified, living weapon, forbidden by the laws of the Pangalactic Federation."

Fayt had to resist a snort. "My father? Is this the same guy we're talking about?"

At that, Maria went right up to his face and Fayt blushed from the sudden proximity. Talk about pushy. Maria Traydor was the most confrontational woman, who did not resort to physical violence, he had ever met. Somehow, that lent her a certain degree of attractiveness.

"I don't joke, Fayt," she warned. "Of course he didn't talk about it. Other than those involved, only the top levels of the Federation government knew anything."

"Oh yeah? Then how come you know about it?" he replied in challenge. However, he wasn't expecting Maria's subsequent reaction: a flash of pain darted across the beautiful girl's eyes, before she quickly turned to look away, seemingly shrinking into herself.

"I was one of his… guinea pigs," she said softly; regretful, bitter and ashamed, before anger flashed across her eyes. "And I'll never forgive them."

This was too much to handle. The stuff Maria talked about sounded like the kind of things one only heard in games or stories. Where was the basis of her argument? None of this made any sense!

"My dad? I can't believe this! Living weapons? And you… a guinea pig? You just look like an ordinary girl!" he griped.

Maria turned around sharply to face him, ostensibly impatient and offended by his description. "And how am I supposed to look like? A talking laser canon with eight legs?" she bit out sarcastically. But when she realized they weren't going anywhere with this pointless discussion, she figured some things were better off showing than telling.

"Here, watch this," she beckoned Fayt towards three small vases perched innocently on a nearby shelf.

Stepping forward with a hand outstretched, she tapped the middle vase with a finger and Fayt watched in amazement as a strange brilliantly blue string of symbols appeared. They seemed to circle the three vases in a loop, before they disintegrated into thin air, leaving but the middle vase glowing a mysterious white. Then, faster than the eye could blink, Maria drew forth her weapon and pulled the trigger. The shot fired and hit the middle vase dead center, but the bullet got deflected and ricocheted to destroy the two other vases by its side. Fayt gaped at the demonstration, completely baffled.

What in the world… how did that happen?!

Maria tucked her gun away and lowered her gaze sadly. "This is the power I received from the symbological genetic modifications Professor Leingod and his team performed on me. I possess the ability to manipulate the structure of matter, otherwise known as 'Alteration'." She turned to offer Fayt a despondent smirk, the kind that tried to hide all the pain. "So, still think I'm an ordinary girl?"

There was nothing left to do but reluctantly accept the truth, no matter how cruel or far-fetched it may be.

"But… why would my father do such a thing?" Fayt whispered, doubtful and afraid.

"And not just to me," Maria continued as she shot him a meaningful stare. "I wasn't the only one they modified. Another came before me. I was the second subject."

The way she was looking at him, Fayt didn't like where this was going.

"What are you saying?" he breathed, though he already knew the answer deep down in his heart.

Maria's expression was torn, sympathetic and sad. The emotional turmoil she was seeing in the boy's eyes – it reminded her so much of her own reflection when she herself had found out about the truth.

"The first subject… was you, Fayt."

But instead of defeat, denial took root and anger consumed him.

"My father would never do something like that to me!" he snapped.

"I can understand if you don't believe me; after all, your power hasn't fully awakened yet," Maria rushed to defend herself. "But if I'm not telling the truth, explain this for me: who destroyed that Vendeeni battleship in the sky? Why are they so relentless in going after you that they would capture your father and bring harm upon an innocent planet and its people just to get to you? Even hurting the ones you hold dear."

The more Maria talked, the increasingly conflicted Fayt felt. The horrid scene at Aire Hills, all that carnage from a single shot of those Vendeeni laser beams, flashed through his mind. The people fleeing for Peterny like a pack of wild animals trying to escape an apocalypse. The way Roger's lifeless body felt in his arms, and the fear and despair he felt in his heart right down to his soul. They all centered around him. It was too uncanny to be a coincidence.

"I know you don't want to admit it, but there's only one truth and we can uncover it together," Maria continued, seeking his eyes, beseeching. "I'm going to steal the Professor back from the Vendeeni and ask him why he did what he did. But I need your help, Fayt. I… I can't do it alone."

Fayt's expression was pained; as much as he wanted to accept Maria's words – they were the only logical explanation for everything that's happened from the headaches, fainting and memory gaps – but he couldn't. Him? A weapon? That was just crazy. He was a fully conscious, living human being. He had memories, a life. How could he be anything else?

"Hey."

Fayt started at Cliff's voice. The blonde had been awfully quiet until this point.

"We're not expecting you to accept this right off the bat, but you want to rescue your old man, right?"

"Of course I do, but…"

"Then let's go rescue him like we planned," Cliff continued smoothly and approached the teen to place a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Crazy plot twist aside, our goals are the same. And if you still have any doubts by then, you can ask your dad yourself! Sound good?"

Cliff's grin was surprisingly infectious and his approach patient and understanding, especially when he seemed to be the only one in the room who understood Fayt's feelings. Perhaps it had something to do with all the hardships they faced together over the course of their journey, or the weird, crazy friendship they shared. Whatever it was, Cliff was the unexpected yet greatly appreciated voice of reason that Fayt needed at a time like this. And so, he took a deep breath and nodded his head in consent.

"Alright. Let's do this."

Mirage smiled and nudged him in a supportive gesture. "'Atta boy."

"Right," Cliff punched his fist into an open palm, addressing his boss directly. "How're we gonna do this? With your ship down and those Vendeeni hanging around the stratosphere, how're we going into orbit?"

"Hmm… Unfortunately, the Diplo won't be arriving anytime soon, and I'd rather not spark an aggressive confrontation between our flagships," Maria paced the room as she pondered the question. "We'll just have to make do with my ship post-repair, but… entering orbit, transporting and warping out will take a total of five minutes."

Fayt's eyes narrowed at her calculations. "I seriously doubt the Vendeeni would let us slip by without a fight," he commented. "A small ship wouldn't stand a chance."

"Exactly," Mirage quipped with a helpless shake of her head. "Even our flagship, the Diplo, will have trouble withstanding five minutes of concentrated fire from the Vendeeni."

"Then I have a proposal," said Maria, whirling around to face the three members of her party; but the way she said it clearly indicated that it was more of an order than a suggestion. "The ideal solution would be to create some diversion from the ground as well. But – and at this she pursed her lips – with the technology on this planet, that would prove difficult. Any ideas? What's the strongest and most effective weapon on this planet?"

Cliff, Fayt and Mirage shared a meaningful look. They could only think of one thing that fit the bill.

"Well, it won't be effective against the Vendeeni's shields…" said Mirage.

"But it still could buy us some time…" added Cliff.

"They call it the Thunder Arrow," Fayt explained, the name itself bringing back memories both fulfilling and unpleasant. "It's a weapon that's able to fire concentrated runology or energy at a target at considerable range, but… I don't think it's long enough to reach the Vendeeni's ship." Plus, it belongs to Aquaria and I don't think the queen's going to let us use it as we please, he added mentally as an afterthought.

Maria hummed and acknowledged his concerns. "Hmm… well, we could–"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and a guard entered the room. Though the man's expression remained impassive, his body language spoke of his inherent apprehension as he bowed in greeting. "Sirs, ladies, forgive my intrusion, but the conference room is ready."

Maria gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Thank you."

"Conference room?" Fayt questioned with a curious raise of his brow as he studied Quark's leader.

The latter simply turned to address Fayt as if it wasn't at all out of place that she already seemed to have made herself comfortable in this foreign kingdom, on this foreign planet. Absently, he couldn't help but admire her adaptability and the natural authority she commanded.

"I spoke to the queen while you were unconscious," Maria explained, recounting their meeting on the palace's balcony where she had been transported. Surprisingly, despite the strange situation the kingdoms of this world found themselves in (plus the fact that a girl had suddenly appeared on palace grounds out of thin air), the royal sovereign took it rather well and had shown tremendous understanding.

"She wanted an explanation that would make sense to her ears. And not just Aquaria: the leaders of the two other regions involved in the conflict, Sanmite and Airyglyph I believe, are pressuring for an explanation as well. I told her it would be best to catch up with you first; have everyone on the same page, before a proper audience."

"And how did that go?" Fayt asked.

"She took it well, though I can't say the same about that friend of yours with the red hair," Maria replied in what could only be described as mild amusement and sympathy as her gaze darted to a sorry-looking Cliff. "I believe Cliff has finally found someone who can hit him harder than he can throw."

"Bah! Get off my case…"

Mirage however, didn't appear to share her leader's amusement, but took pity on her partner and changed the subject. "At least now that this planet's involved in this mess, we don't have to hide anything anymore," she said.

But at what cost? Fayt could immediately picture the sheer drama and catastrophethat would ensue when the moment arrived. Oh boy, things didn't look too bright.

"That would be all," said Maria to the guard, who saluted and took his leave. The man didn't get very far, however, as Fayt dashed forward to grab his attention.

"E-Excuse me, wait! Ah…" His heart pounded a tattoo against his chest. "Is my friend, Roger, here? Do you know where he is? I…" He gulped nervously, blushing, "I'd like to see him."

Meanwhile, Maria watched Fayt's flustered expression with narrowed eyes. Roger? Who was that? Was this the person who triggered Fayt's destructive capabilities? Someone he deeply cares about… What made this boy so special?

"My sincerest apologies, sir. The Prime Minister's son is mourning," the guard replied, expression stoic. "He requests not to be disturbed, especially from you three."

Cliff scoffed, "Now that's just rude."

Sadness and disappointment turned Fayt's handsome features, his previously hopeful smile disappearing from the implications. He wasn't a fool; he had seen Ameena die from the Vendeeni's attack; and no doubt the little Menodix would want to spend all the time he and her spirit had left on this plane together, before moving on. However, Fayt doubted Roger would ever forget about Ameena – it was a wound carved too far deep and would stretch on for far too long. It couldn't be clearer to Fayt that the boy blamed him for her death, for the slaughter of his people, for everything.

"... Alright, I understand."

And it hurt like a stab to his heart.

The air was cold and still, empty from the silence and haunting like a grave. There was no choir today, or for the next seven days in light of a nation's mourning – or rather, the collective tears of three kingdoms: once powerful brothers in arms, now ripped apart from the devastation of war. These were sad times for the people of Gaitt.

The castle chapel seemed darker this day; long, hanging tapestries depicting the crests of the three nations and their respective lore, covered the towering stain glass windows and blocked out the light from the harsh, midday sun. Each tapestry had a story to tell, each a puzzle piece of a unified history that no longer held any ground once the fighting started. Now, they hung alongside each other, surrounded the chamber and bathed it in shadows, but its silken threads no longer bore any meaning – dusty, hollow and a cruel mockery. How ironic that it took an entire war and the unexpected interference of a third party, to bring them all together again. This was something he had always wanted … but not like this.

Never like this.

Roger sat at the front row of the chapel pews, listless brown eyes staring blankly at the two bodies placed side by side upon the pedestal; beautifully and carefully embalmed, and surrounded and showered by hundreds of soft pink Palmira blossoms all in full bloom. Candles burned brightly, the scene going blissfully undisturbed. The thin veil covering one of the bodies was pulled back to reveal the lovely face of a young flower maiden, long lashes dusting soft cheeks that were still a little pink from when she had taken her last breath. If Roger didn't know any better, he would've thought she was sleeping, dreaming of a world where the kingdoms knew peace, of a world where she finally found her dearest friend after years of waiting. Well, she did; but their reunion ended all too soon in tragedy. And here they laid, two childhood lovers from Airyglyph, unified in life and now, in death.

"I miss ya, Ameena," Roger whispered tearfully, eyes red and puffy from all those hours of crying, but the tears just wouldn't stop.

On shaky feet, he rose and approached the pedestal, a long chain of Palmira blossoms, all 100 of them, trailing in his wake as he clutched them in his small hands. He had picked them up from Ameena's home in Peterny and completed the wishing charm as soon as he could. She would have wanted it.

Ameena and Dion were given a private service in this very chapel, while the other bodies were placed outside in the royal courtyard before hundreds of weeping families and loved ones. The two lovers had been given the highest honor in their deaths for their bravery and valiant sacrifice – a collective decision made by the ruling bodies of the three regions. Born from Airyglyph, resided in Aquaria, and fought to save Sanmite like they were one of them; Ameena and Dion were truly children of the land, embodiments of peace and hope for the future.

"I told 'em ya were a hero; that ya risked yer life ta stop the war; when ya saved my pops from those bright lights… when ya saved me."

Roger reached out to smoothen the hair across her forehead, eyes focused on the girl's peaceful face, before the guilt and reality caught up and he collapsed atop her chest as he broke down for the second time that afternoon.

"I'm so sorry, Ameena! I… f-failed you! And n-now… I'll never see you again. I'm so, so sorry…"

He shuddered as another sob wrecked through him, but there were no tears left to cry. He had promised to protect her like how she always used to look out for him; give her a new life in Surferio under the warm, inviting sun; and safeguard her happiness until the time came to say goodbye. But he didn't get to do any of those things, and for that he felt like such a failure.

"Thank ya fer being a part of my life, Ameena… no matter how short it was. I… I'll never forget you," he said with so much heart, he felt it breaking. Carefully he looped the wishing charm around Ameena and Dion's interlocked hands. "Rest now. You're free."

With that, Roger leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon Ameena's frozen cheek one last time, before lowering the veil over her face and leaving his dearest friend to rest.

"... She must be very important to you."

He gave a start at the sudden interruption, but quickly relaxed when he recognized the owner of that unmistakably calm and soothing timbre; the (only) voice of reason of their little group of six once upon a time.

"She is," he replied, as he turned around to come face to face with his best friend and most loyal confidant. The humanoid gave a humorless chuckle.

"It appears we both lost someone important today."

Melt sat on the pews, the young wolf boy's piercing yellow eyes quietly observing Roger's every move like a predator tracking its prey, like he was afraid the Menodix would disappear, like he couldn't believe Roger was actually here. Melt's gaze was solemn, contemplative and tired; cuts grazed his bloodied, dirt-stained cheeks; the fur of his bushy tail matted and dull as it hung limply over the seat. Judging by his puffy eyes, Roger knew his friend had been crying – and he had every reason to: his mother's body laid outside at the courtyard, dead – just like the other humanoids who had lost their lives from the senseless slaughter of war.

A war I started, Roger reminded himself bitterly. If he hadn't left Surferio, his people would have never gotten involved, Melt's mom would still be alive, and none of this would have happened.

"Melt, I…" Roger bit his lip as he took a seat next to his friend. "I'm sorry about yer mom… I…" He shut his eyes tightly, willing a fresh wave of tears away. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't gone against my pops, none of our people would have ta die…"

The real man contest from months ago flashed through his mind and he gave a violent shudder.

"I'm so sorry, Melt. Ya suffered 'cuz of me… and now ya have ta suffer again fer my mistakes…"

The chapel echoed with those last words, before all fell still. The ensuing silence was unbearable, but after what felt like hours, the young elementist finally spoke.

"You're absolutely right." Melt's eyes flashed dangerously. "This war wouldn't have happened if you hadn't run away from home. Sanmite wouldn't have pumped its remaining resources to feed our soldiers. The Prime Minister wouldn't be coerced to make such a rash decision. Children wouldn't be outside crying for their dead parents, who had little choice but to serve their nation. My mother would still be alive!"

Roger winced, his ears flattening shamefully against his skull.

"... Would be what I'd say if I chose to remain ignorant."

Roger gasped and stared at his best friend with wide, disbelieving eyes. Wait, did he mean…?

"Melt…"

"The fact of the matter is, I came up with the plan to help you escape the village that night. I am not so cruel and irresponsible to rid myself completely off the blame," Melt began as he recounted the memories from the past few weeks, addressing the situation with a maturity beyond his years. "Airyglyph and Aquaria's relationship and tolerance towards each other was stretched incredibly thin. The war would have happened anyway, like it or not. Alas…" A haunting sadness entered his eyes, before he blinked it away. "None of us could have foreseen this happening. These strange beings from the stars and that engineer companion of yours… what in the world was that?"

"Beats me," said Roger with a shrug. He could still feel the soft caress of snow-white feathers against his cheeks, before they disintegrated in little bursts of light when Fayt descended from the sky and collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

"Hmm… I take it they're not from Greeton after all?"

"Melt?"

Said boy was taken by surprise when the Menodix launched himself at him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Roger's fingers dug into the thick material of Melt's robes and clung tight, taking comfort in the familiar scent of his best friend and home.

"... Thank ya."

It sounded a little muffled, but Melt heard it and returned the embrace with a sincere smile. He buried his nose behind Roger's ear and his tail wagged in both content and relief.

"It is good to have my brother back."

They pulled away to regard each other. A fierce determination entered Roger's eyes as he gazed into the tired gold irises of the older boy before him. He couldn't allow Melt to pay for the mistakes he made for the third time.

"I swear, I'll do whatever it takes ta make things right," he resolved. "I swear to ya and my people."

Unbeknownst to the pair, a certain red haired Aquarian commander had witnessed their exchange with a bittersweet fondness. Once upon a time, she would join them as a member of their strange little ragtag family. But that was before Airyglyph attacked. Before her father died. Before Clair, Tynave and Farleen burned along with the town of Arias. Before she sullied her own hands with blood. Of all the mourners outside, both humanoid and Glyphian alike, how many deaths had she been responsible for? As wartime commander of Aquaria, how many more souls would she need to damn to hell? If only things could go back to the way they were; when Aznor Huxley mourned her father's passing and welcomed her, the only human girl, into the Lost City with open arms and an open heart; when she was Lieutenant Nel to a bunch of mischievous humanoid children. However, political relations between the three regions had crumbled like dust in the wind, and its poor people were left to pick up the pieces of a world they once knew. If only there was someone to blame, but even she knew that directing her anger to those strange flying vehicles in the skies wouldn't serve any purpose. At the end of the day, it was their world, not anyone else's.

"Nel? You do not have to hide anymore. I know you are there."

The Aquarian gave a start from being found out, but should have known better; after all, there was no fooling a humanoid's senses. Taking a deep breath, Nel composed herself before stepping out from the shadows and into the dim candlelight. The sight of her disheveled appearance made Roger gasp and all reservation towards their current situation, forgotten. So accustomed to the Aquarian's grace and beauty was he, that her sallow cheeks, tired eyes and sickeningly pale skin shocked him and filled his heart with barefaced concern. The woman looked like she was undergoing a lot of stress and was on the verge of fainting.

"Nel, oh geez… are ya ok? C'mere, sit down. I gotcha."

Nel accepted the boy's hand gratefully and lowered herself onto the bench. She shifted awkwardly under their scrutiny. Honestly, she hadn't thought things through till to this point, especially since she hadn't planned on getting caught. It was Roger's curiosity of course, which broke the silence.

"What're ya doing here, Nel? Don't ya have other, uh, military duties to attend ta?" he asked.

She shook her head. "At the moment, no. Now's not the time for war. Besides, her majesty and the Prime Minister are discussing what to do about the new threat… and our guests."

"Ah, the so-called engineers from Greeton and their new leader?" said Melt perceptively.

"That would be them."

Nel raised her gaze to the pedestal adorned with Palmira flowers, lingering sadly at the chain that bound the couple's interlocked hands. "I came to pay my respects to the heroes of Gaitt," she explained with a forlorn shake of her head. "Their actions have put mine to shame."

"Ya got that right," Roger said with a sigh at the same time Melt pondered their words.

"Hmm… do you mean to say this Ameena girl is a martyr?" he clarified.

"Huh?" Oh, nuttin' fancy like that," Roger waved him off with a fond laugh, gaze softening at the memory of Ameena's bright, innocent smile and her love for the world. "She was just an ordinary girl, but with big dreams and a heart of gold. She was the purest person I've ever met… Did ya know what she's always dreamed of, apart from peace?"

At Melt and Nel's questioning stares, Roger chuckled, though his lower lip quivered from how emotional his memories about Ameena made him feel.

"She wanted ta visit the lost city," he answered. "It was sorta her fairytale. She… she wanted to see the sun."

Melt's gaze turned sad and a new wave of appreciation and respect formed for this human girl with humble wishes. His eyes flicked to Ameena's body on the pedestal, contemplative.

"Say, Roger, we could always – "

"Melt!"

Instantly, three pairs of eyes turned to face the chapel doors. A humanoid stood proud and regal at the entrance; his long, dark tail trailing on the floor and his expression aged. The wolf man wore long, elegant blue robes similar to what Melt was wearing and in his right hand, he clutched a tall arcane staff. Narrowed golden eyes worn out from grief and tears, searched the room and landed on Melt's form. He beckoned the boy in a calm, quiet voice.

"Come, son. Sir Malroy has recalled the troops. It is time to return home."

"Yes, father." Melt shot Roger a lingering look, before pulling the younger into a tight embrace. "Come home soon. We missed you."

Roger returned the hug. "Don't worry, I'll be back sooner than ya think!"

Melt jumped off the pews and followed after his father. The chapel doors shut with a soft 'boom', leaving Nel and Roger alone to their own devices. A beat, before Roger turned wide, hopeful eyes up at Nel. There were so many things he wanted to say, to ask, to apologize for, and he didn't know where or how to begin.

"Nel, I–"

But before he could say anymore, Nel surged forward and pulled him tenderly into her arms. With trembling fingers, she stroked his soft, unruly hair and finally, after hours of fighting against her weakness and pretending to be brave, Nel finally allowed herself to cry. Roger simply allowed himself to be held as he reached around her to pat her on the back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. It broke his heart to see the woman he loved like a sister fall into such despair; and suddenly, all the misunderstandings and months of being apart changed nothing. Forgiveness came easily and naturally. All that mattered was that they were ok and they had each other.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed brokenly, all the stress and pent up misery from the war and personal losses taking its toll on her. Memories assaulted her mind in flashes. Years ago, Aznor took her in and she betrayed her only family. Now, Clair, Tynave and Farleen were gone, and she felt like she was an orphan all over again.

"Roger, what have I done? You're all I have and… and I almost lost you…"

Her words only made Roger cling on tighter.

"Oh, Nel…" He nuzzled her neck affectionately. "Don't cry, I'm here and I ain't going nowhere. It don't matter if we're from different kingdoms; yer family, remember? My lieutenant. And we stick with each other no matter what!"

When Roger pulled back, Nel's eyes were shining, not with tears but a renewed hope.

"Even after everything… you really are a real man," she commented with a fond smile. "Thank you, Roger. I promise, I 'll do whatever it takes to make things right. I just hope your father can find it within his heart to forgive Aquaria for what they've done to your people…"

"Are ya kidding me?" said Roger with a playful grin in a bid to lighten the mood. "He's saying he hopes Aquaria can find it in their heart to forgive him! Besides, this entire war, that was all Vox's doing: he forced Airyglyph's hand, he coerced my people, he pushed for conflict… but he's gone now."

Nel nodded her head in assent. "Yes, albeit unconventionally," she muttered, her tone troubled as she recalled the late Glyphian General's demise from those strange falling lights. Then there was Fayt: the boy had ascended to the clouds like an angel, completely obliterated the terrifying vessel like it was nothing and saved them all.

"Roger, can I ask you something?" said Nel as she looked her young companion in the eye. "Did you know?"

It wasn't difficult to figure out who she was referring to, or what she was actually asking.

"Nah, Fayt never said a word," he replied with a tinge of resentment. "Guess they lied ta us all." He cocked his head at his next statement, "That why that big lummox ain't following ya around no more?"

Nel averted her gaze to the bodies on the pedestal and Roger could immediately see that it was the Aquarian's way of masking her feelings of hurt and betrayal.

"I don't think I have the strength to confront Cliff now," she replied feebly. "It'll be hard, but I think - and at this her heart wavered - I think I'll be able to forgive him in time. But not right now."

"Guess that makes one of us," said Roger, and Nel snapped her gaze up to regard him with honest surprise. Never had she heard the usually kind and innocent boy sound so cold, and it was then she realised how much Fayt had actually hurt him.

"Roger…"

"I'll never forgive him, Nel," he snarled, teeth bared and brown eyes flashing. His fingers dug into the wood of the bench so fiercely, they turned white and trembled from the intensity. Fayt's smiling face flashed through his mind as he remembered each and every kiss and passionate embrace they shared with haunting clarity. He didn't realise he was crying, until he felt a familiar wetness trail down his cheeks.

"For what?" she dared to asked.

Roger's gaze remained transfixed on Ameena's cold, unmoving body. Distantly, he could still hear the despairing wails and broken sobs of humanoid mourners beyond the chapel walls. They filled his ears, along with a foreboding voice that hissed and told him that things would never be the same again.

"Everything."

Silence ticked by in an agonizing crawl for the two occupants in the room. The elder – a Menodix male short in stature, yet large in character and spirit – stood by the tall windows of the queen's private study to observe the proceedings in the palace courtyard below, while the younger – a beautiful woman possessing a deep wisdom beyond her years – busied herself at the desk as she carefully penned her letter. For a few good moments, there was nothing save the rhythmic scratching of quill against parchment. Neither party seemed particularly keen to broach the subject, but the sun was setting and the Menodix's time as an honored guest was almost up.

"Romeria, I thank you for your graciousness," said Aznor, stepping away from the window to give the holy mother and Aquaria's ruler his full attention. "Not many would've taken lightly to my foolish actions, especially when an entire nation's sovereignty and its people were threatened as consequence." He bowed deeply. "May Apris bless you for your mercy."

The quill paused in its movements, as Romeria looked up to fix Sanmite's Prime Minister with a sympathetic smile.

"You've always had a kind heart, dear Aznor. Do not torture yourself for acting out of love. If I had a child of my own, I would've done the same. It is only human," she said, going back to her letter as she dipped her quill tip into the ink. "Duke Vox was a deceitful man and a bloodthirsty tyrant; but the past is the past and we can't afford any further clashes. Your issue shouldn't be with Airyglyph and its people."

Aznor shot her an assuring stare. "It isn't."

"Good. It would be wise to put this matter behind us and deal with this new threat in the most effective way possible."

"Does Arzei know what's going on?" he asked, to which Romeria shook her head.

"I believe the king is just as in the dark as we are, if not more so from Duke Vox's planned insurgence."

Aznor gave a loud sigh of pity. "It saddens me to hear such stories of betrayal, especially between one's own flesh and blood. Arzei always was too trusting of his uncle… and I know how much he hurt you because of that, Romeria."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Aznor immediately regretted it. The sorrow and pain he saw in Romeria's eyes pierced his chest, and he remembered exactly why this incident was something she never wished to speak of ever again. He had overstepped his boundaries and forgotten his place. Fortunately, the queen was in a benevolent mood and allowed his transgression to slide.

"... The past is the past, Aznor. It would do you good to not dwell on it," said Romeria in finality, before she sealed the envelope and called for the royal messenger.

Once the deed was done, Romeria joined Aznor by the window as they gazed silently out towards the horizon, at the grey skies and frigid mountaintops of Airyglyph in the distance.

"You know, none of this makes any sense. Do you think Arzei will even come?" asked Aznor.

"I am certain, yes."

"What makes you so sure?"

Romeria's stare never once wavered.

"Because I asked him as an old friend."

The cell was dark and dank, its walls partially frozen from the outside, within from the merciless onslaught of the Traum Mountain's icy storm. Winds howled through the prison bars like a pack of wolves on the hunt, but the mind-numbing solitude and biting temperatures did nothing to shake the once proud Black Brigade Captain's composure. Chains rattled; there was movement, but only the briefest bit of life, before the prisoner slumped against the wall, defeated and still once more. The man's long, two-tone hair, which once stood as a symbol of power, honor and nobility, had been cut out of its binds and draped his face and body in messy, matted tresses. Angry red cuts and welts from the Inquisitor's whip marred the skin of his chest, back and arms; but the cold helped ease their recovery like a stinging, soothing balm. Crimson eyes gazed listlessly between bangs at a skeleton chained to the wall opposite. His cellmate didn't make for quality entertainment, but given his taciturn disposition, he supposed it didn't really matter. Glou Nox was waiting for him in hell, but he didn't have the courage to face his father in death. His gauntlet was gone and the mark of the dragon burned as deep as his humiliation.

Albel Nox was a broken man.

He couldn't even die.

And yet, for all his suffering, the only thought that continued to plague him was that he would never see that foolish humanoid boy again.

The Glyphian was so consumed in self-pity that he failed to register the presence of another, until his cell doors slammed open to reveal the silhouette of his king.

Arzei Bohnleid dismissed his escort and guard on duty, wishing to speak with the prisoner alone. Once the footsteps and the clanking sounds of armor faded, Airyglyph's king stepped into the cold cell and paused before the beaten and miserable soldier, quietly observing and assessing the young man's current state of wear. Albel kept his head bowed, not out of respect but from shame, and it both saddened and disappointed Arzei to see how far Glou's son had fallen, to see a once great legacy slip through the cracks of time. Before, Albel's efforts and failure to perform would evoke displeasure and frustration from him; now, with certain circumstances being brought to light, Arzei only felt remorse and a deep regret for the ill-treatment he had subjugated (arguably and ironically) his most loyal knight.

Despite the callous and distant way Albel carried himself before figures of authority, his loyalty and devotion to the throne was unquestionable. He fought for the glory of his kingdom, performed his duties without question, struggled against the discrimination and loneliness in honor of upholding his father's dying name in a city that feared and loathed his existence – and yet, Albel never asked for anything or begged for sympathy. Arzei's only regret was that he only saw this now.

Perhaps it's not too late.

"Raise your head, Albel Nox. You are better than this."

However, all he received was a contemptuous chuckle for his troubles.

"Better than this, you say? Well, allow me to refresh your memory," said Albel, inclining his head to glare furiously at the king, rattling his chains for emphasis. "This was what you decreed!"

Albel's statement rang loud and true throughout the underground prison, the indignation and hatred in his voice palpable. It made Arzei shut his eyes momentarily in remorse.

"I understand your anger. It is not unfounded, and I concede that I have made an… error in judgment," he confessed, readying his next words. "That is why… I'm lifting your sentence, Nox. From this moment forth, you are no longer Airyglyph's prisoner."

That definitely got Albel's attention, who fixed him with a perplexed yet doubtful stare. He didn't dare hope for a miracle.

"Why?" he breathed suspiciously. There had to be a catch. There always was.

"Duke Vox is dead," Arzei began his explanation as he paced up and down the cell, struggling how to feel about his uncle's recent passing. "It was soon brought to my attention that he had planned an insurgence behind my back to claim the throne as his. The war and victory over Aquaria and the Sanmite Republic would have secured that right."

He paused to study the ex-captain's face. "For years, you had spoken up against Vox's opinions – sometimes even disrespecting his position and mine as your king. But I see now that there was intent behind your lack of discretion. I have clearly misjudged you, Nox, and for that I apologise."

Albel's eyes widened at the king's words and his humility gave him pause. Arzei was pardoning him? No, even better, he was lowering himself – a king! – before a… a… Albel didn't even know what he was now exactly. He had lost his position and right to Captain of the Black Brigade at the moment of his treachery and failure to capture the humanoid child. On that day, he had lost everything he had worked so hard to carve in his name: his citizenship, his nobility, his credibility, his hornor and dignity, and his freedom. But now, Arzei said he was a free man. Albel didn't know what to do about this new information, so he hid his confusion with his usual mask of contempt.

"Humph, I take it we lost the war."

"I'm afraid the situation is far more complicated than that," Arzei replied and immediately recounted the events up to this point to the ex-captain to keep him up to speed. To say Albel was astounded was an understatement; the man was utterly blown away.

"I received a letter from the queen personally requesting my audience," Arzei continued, holding up said letter before Albel's curious gaze. "Aquaria's queen and Sanmite's prime minister wish to hold a discussion about this new threat to our world, alongside those so-called engineers of course. The kingdoms cannot afford another war."

"And where, pray tell, will this discussion take place?" said Albel with open skepticism. He was still having difficulty wrapping his mind around the strange situation. "Are they so ignorant to believe that we would agree to send our king to Aquarian soil?"

"That is why the meeting point will not be at Aquios," replied Arzei. "It will be held at Gaitt's center: in the lost city of Surferio."

Albel nearly choked on his own saliva. They're opening the gates?

"This is where you come in," Arzei interrupted the younger man's thoughts. "Nox, I would like to appoint you as my new personal aid and escort. Your military accolades speak highly of your person. I can think of no other who I can trust with my life."

The sheer audacity of the king's request made Albel snort. "Bah! Do you plan to leave me here to rot if I refuse?"

And for the third time that day, Arzei's response surprised him.

"No," said the king and to prove his point, he retrieved a key from his robes and unlocked the shackles that bound Albel's wrists to the wall. "It is as I said: you are free off all transgressions and are not obligated to accept my terms. If you decline your new position, then it is as you wish. As your king, I can force my hand… but in honor of your late father's legacy, I will respect your dignity and freedom of choice."

Albel rubbed his wrists experimentally, getting the blood flowing again and relishing in his newfound freedom. This was crazy, utterly mad. Normally, one wouldn't bother questioning a generous proposal such as this, but he did. After years of being treated with nothing but scorn and grueling tolerance, it was hard to believe anyone, let alone King Arzei, regard him with such positive standing. It was like the whole world had gone mad after the arrival of that foreign vessel… and perhaps it did; after all, if someone had told him yesterday that Airyglyph, Aquaria and Sanmite had agreed to join forces, he would have died laughing.

But what do I choose?

If what Arzei had said was true, then he could walk out those doors and leave the royal city forever. No more pain, no more ghosts; only an unknown future in a land with an undecided present. He wouldn't have to answer to anyone, or live in his father's shadow for the rest of his waking existence. He'd be free, and yet…

Albel's gaze trailed to the mark of the dragon on his arm and let his fingers ghost over its design. A symbol of honor. Proof of his status as a dragon knight. Testimony as the last descendant of the proud Nox clan. Glou always said that things happened for a reason and Albel was inclined to believe his tattoo qualified for that. He was never blessed with the mark, but now he bore it – a stark red against pale flesh – and even he knew that that had to mean something. That was when he realised… that was when he remembered he was more than the person in this very cell. He was Albel Nox: son of Glou Nox, blood heir to the Nox family who walked amongst dragons, master swordsman, a rightful dragon knight and… defender of his people. Arzei was his king. Airyglyph was his home.

I must be out of my mind.

"… I don't have a sword," he finally said, mentally cursing that second rate blue-haired swordsman for breaking his faithful katana during their last fight.

Arzei allowed himself a rare smile at the wicked one's words. Albel had an odd way of expressing himself, of that he understood. The king knew how to read between the lines.

"Follow me."

The two made their way out of the castle dungeons and to avoid causing a scene or inspiring unwanted questions, took a secret passage that led straight to the king's private quarters. Albel followed closely behind, expression cold and unreadable as always, but his posture remained tense, reflecting his unease and trepidation for what lay beyond those chamber doors.

"Close the door behind you," instructed Arzei as soon as they entered the private study.

Albel did just so and when he got properly settled, Arzei crossed the room to unlock the door of the royal treasury. The implications actually made Albel blanch. He could only think of one reason why they were here. Now he knew the king was really out of his mind.

"Come, and claim your birthright," Arzei beckoned and Albel hesitantly moved to stand by his king.

At the center of the treasure trove, glowing and bathed in ethereal light, stood a sword of incredible power. Albel had heard about this legendary blade, as did all of Airyglyph. The Sword of the Crimson Scourge, forged out of the blood of ancient dragons, was passed down through the ages from the ancient Kingdom of Aquor. Legend had it that when wielded by one who was worthy, the sword could even cleave the sky in two. Of course, Albel had no time for that preposterous nonsense. What he cared about was the consequences of being deemed unworthy: in the best case, the sword takes over its wielder's mind; in the worst case, it consumes both body and soul. The Crimson Scourge tempted the would-be wielder with dark thoughts of hatred and greed. Vox himself had tried to wield it, but had fallen under its sway. None had the heart or the strength of will to master the sword, except one.

"The only person the Crimson Scourge has ever acknowledge as its master was your father, Glou Nox," said Arzei as he fixed Albel with a meaningful stare. "And now, it will acknowledge you."

"Enough!" Albel growled and stepped away from the king, crimson eyes flashing dangerously. "You are foolish in your ideals if you believe this sword would ever deem me worthy."

Arzei frowned at the younger one's words. "Nox, do you hate me and this kingdom so much that you would ignore its cries for help?"

"I don't hate anything but myself!" Albel shouted, all the pain and desperation he kept locked up inside, finally had an outlet. How much more would Arzei make him suffer before he had enough?

"I hate myself for the inexperience that makes me a failure in battle! I hate myself for the selfishness that will not allow me to accept others! I hate myself for the arrogance that makes me look down on those weaker than I! I hate myself for my suspicion-filled heart that distrusts my king! I hate myself for the jealous nature that makes me envious of those superior to me! I hate myself for my fear that prevents me from loving others! And I hate myself for the death of my father, brought by own impotence! Do you honestly still think I'm worthy of the sword?!"

Despite his emotional outburst, Arzei smiled a knowing smile. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

Confused, Albel averted his gaze to the Crimson Scourge, only to gape at the sight before him. The golden glow, which surrounded the legendary sword, had vanished. At Arzei's curt nod, Albel tentatively approached the blade and pulled it from its stand. It thrummed a bright red upon contact with his skin, singing praise for his humility, before the light faded and Albel was left to ponder over the implications of his actions.

"A splendid accomplishment indeed, Albel," Arzei congratulated the young knight, the pride in his eyes evident as he gazed upon Glou's heir and only son. "Your father would have been proud."

This was too much for him to take in.

"Why did you choose me? Why did you agree to meet the queen and the prime minister after everything that's happened?" Albel asked in a helpless whisper, trying to make sense of all these sudden and monumental changes. Taking pity on the boy, Arzei decided to explain himself.

"Truth be told, I never wanted this war, but I foolishly allowed Vox's words to sway my judgment and fill my head with paranoia. I lost so much from the fighting, especially a dear friendship with an old friend, and I just want to make things right." He paused and turned his full attention to Albel. "I haven't been a very good king to you and my people and for that, I'm sorry."

The king's words touched something deep within the wicked one's cold heart, but he'd be damned if he allowed any form of weakness to show. And so, humbled and too overwhelmed by the latest string of events, Albel said the one thing his mind could manage:

"When do we leave?"

"First thing in the morning."

He nodded and turned to depart for his sleeping quarters.

"Goodnight… your majesty."

Airyglyph's ruler gave a start and watched his new personal aid disappear down the corridor, realizing with a certain fondness that Albel Nox had acknowledged him as king for the first time in almost 10 years.

To be continued...

Author's note:

Ameena's parts always make me cry :,) and yay, Albel! I finally redeemed that sad bugger because I love him too much and his backstory pleases me. Things are going to be tough between Fayt and Roger at this point. Nel and Roger are hurting pretty bad from the betrayal and lies, so hopefully they find it within their hearts to eventually forgive the two men who love them. Also, is that jealousy I sense from Maria and Mirage? And don't think I've forgotten about Albel's pinning for our favorite Menodix ;)

As always, feel free to leave a review if you like my story. Thanks for reading and see you in the next update.