The air is filled with a bitter chill that's all too familiar to my skin, bringing back flashes of chocobos and a young Dern and an even younger Jonan. Vaan and Penelo look absolutely miserable, hunched together and shivering against the freezing wind. I don't understand how Fran hasn't frozen completely in that tiny metal armor of hers. Even Ashe is shuddering, white snowflakes caught in her fair hair and battle-worn clothing. I shiver, hugging my arms closer to my body and hiding my face behind my hair to avoid the stinging wind.
"Are we ever g-gonna get th-there?" Vaan forces out, his eyes practically pleading Ashe for warmth. The princess sighs.
"I have no way of knowing," she replies, hiding a shiver. "The men at the entrance to the Rift told us to go this way."
"Northeast," I nod, sniffling. "To the south is the real Rift. Piles of bones and even worse chills." Huffing, I turn to Balthier's viera partner. "How are you not freezing?!"
"I do not feel the cold as you do," she answers calmly, her ear twitching. "That is not to say I do not feel it at all, but it is not quite as harsh on my skin as it is on a hume's."
"Balthier's the only one dressed for the occasion, it seems," Basch mutters, glancing back at the pirate. Balthier merely replies with a slight smile, scanning the snowy hills with his gun rested on his shoulder. I drag myself over to Larsa's side, teeth chattering and lips blue.
"How are you holding up?"
"It's quite cold," he shudders, shaking his head. "But I can't complain. At least my clothes don't have holes."
"They serve a purpose," I retort, rolling my eyes. "I'm used to the desert, remember?"
"What purpose?"
Conversation halts when we come to an upward slope, pausing upon seeing half-clothed, limping, bloodied refugees dragging themselves up the slippery, steep, snowy path as if it's their last hope. In these times, it probably is. Balthier sighs, resting his hands on his hips. Larsa and I stop in front of him, my stomach churning as a woman wails unabashedly, clutching her limp child to her chest with blue fingers.
"Empires parade down city streets, while refugees walk barefoot through the snow," Balthier murmurs.
Larsa turns toward the pirate, his words coming as sharp as the wind.
"And so I sue for peace to stop short war and ease their suffering. My father will choose peace." But will he once Vayne's dagger has been pressed to his back? Vayne pulls the strings behind it all—despite Larsa's faith.
"Will he now?" Balthier fires back. "You sound sure of yourself." His green eyes fall dark, his face drained as he passes by stiffly. "You can never know another, not even your own father."
"Tell me about it," I mutter, shaking my head. Larsa frowns, brows pinched together as he stares out at the darkened horizon. Vaan comes up on his other side.
"Don't take it the wrong way, okay?"
Larsa says nothing, his pale blue eyes falling to the snow. I sigh, motioning for Vaan to leave before kneeling in the snow and taking hold of my brother's shoulders.
"Don't listen to him. He's undoubtedly had some troubles that drove him to piracy, just as I did. Have some faith in Father; he'll do what's right, I'm sure of it."
"And suppose he doesn't?" Larsa asks quietly, finally looking at me. "Suppose Vayne truly does fail me once and for all as you've said far too many times?" I press my lips together, fighting shivers, and shake my head.
"No. The Senate will press for an immediate answer. There's not much Vayne can do when Father's locked away in a throne room with angry old men and women, now is there?" I give him a gentle shake by the shoulders and get to my feet. "It may not work out as smoothly as you'd like, but that's the way life is nowadays. You've just got to stay determined and find your way."
"I suppose I have been doing something right, then," Larsa replies, his tone lighter as he forces a smile and starts to follow the rest of the group. "Shae… Who is it you find your allegiance with?" His brows pinch together as he thinks. "Lady Ashe or Archadia? Perhaps an Archadia without Vayne?"
"Neither," I shrug. "I pledge no allegiance to either side and I'd prefer to stay as far away from a war party as possible. Now, we may be fighting the Empire, but should Ashe's men come for me in the future, I won't hesitate to fight back."
"So you wouldn't come back with me to Archades—once this is all over?" I frown, blinking a snowflake off of my eyelashes and sighing.
"I don't know that I could so easily forfeit my freedom for any ruler's dream."
"Father doesn't know that you live, not for sure any way." Larsa reminds me. "Perhaps you could visit him one last time after the treaty is set into motion?"
"I'd rather not."
"I see," he sighs. "Well, I shan't make us repeat Jahara. Let's get to the Gran Kilitas."
I nod, swallowing hard and forcing my legs to pick up the pace until I'm beside Vaan again. My very being dreads returning to the holy mountain and its holy priests and pilgrims. The place holds nothing more for me and I hold nothing but cold resentment for it. I'm sure its people feel the same. My last sights there were unpleasant, to be brief. I clutch my armored arm absently as my mind turns over old images and memories I once thought to bury six feet beneath the desert sand.
~4 years before~
"This is ridiculous!" The angry nu mou paces back a forth across the carpet of the temple, hands clasped tightly behind his back and furry little feet padding across the floor. "I knew you were troublemakers!"
"Sir, you don't understand…" Dern starts, stepping forward. The angry counselor before us swivels around to glare at him under bushy white brows.
"I understand perfectly! Leaving for the life of piracy! Unconceivable!" He turns to see the wrinkled figure standing behind him. "Gran Kilitas, please! Your children wish to turn to lives of thievery and trouble that will surely raise great difficulties!" The Gran Kilitas makes no response, dreaming on.
"We mean no harm," I cut in, keeping my voice low and reassuring. "It's only a dream of mine to see the world and all its majesty."
"Lies!" he hisses. "Is that why you turned on your empire, LadySolidor? Or have you already forgotten?"
"Have you forgotten the horrors my own brother put into play?" I counter, fists balled at my sides tightly. "Of course I turned! You would have me help lead an empire conquering with deceit and bloody warfare over a life of exploration?" I step toward him, cocking my head to my side. "Is your heart truly so filled with hatred? Perhaps you should be replaced, Malachaius." Dern hushes me, pulling me back by my elbow and resting a hand at the base of my back gently.
"Puta," the nu mou hisses; I don't think I can glower any harder. "You both come here, spend two years disobeying our decrees and wandering off together—suspiciously, if I might add. If I do recall, Dern, your companion is far younger than you."
"It's… not like that," Dern shakes his head, grimacing.
"It's three years," I grumble.
"And it's unacceptable!"
"We're friends! He saved my damn life, you rat!" I yell, shoving Dern away from me as he tries to calm me down.
"A life that may have been better off left in a snow drift," the priest snarls, turning on his heels and holding a lightly furred hand in the air. "Take them to the cells below. I have no need for their trouble tonight."
"Malachaius!" I scream, rage burning in my chest like a wildfire. The nu mou ignores me, toddling on his way. A towering man in rough robes grabs my arms, holding them tightly behind my back. Gritting my teeth, I struggle against his hold.
"Shae!" Dern calls, staring hard at me. "Please; you'll only make this more difficult."
"That's my specialty," I hiss, feeling cold metal starting to slip over my wrists. Refusing to back down, I shoot my friend a sharp look. "Dern, I think we should have a bonfire tonight," I grit, my voice low. He raises an eyebrow and I nod.
Simultaneously, we turn on our guards. I kick the man restraining me backward onto the ground. He shields his face; I stomp on his crotch. Howling, he pulls his hands away from his head just long enough for me to slam the pointed heel of my boot into his forehead, knocking him out. Turning to the right, I see that Dern's just finished dispatching the man who stopped him.
"Sorry, Gran Kilitas," I mutter, gathering up the jewels and precious metals laid out as tokens to the gods. Dern takes out a dagger and digs into an ornate column, fishing out the odd small jewel here and there. With my pockets full of riches, I run back toward Dern, tugging his elbow and dragging him after me.
"Calm down," he murmurs, pulling me to a stop. "We run out there, everyone's gonna get suspicious." The patter of feet behind us freezes us in place.
"Seize them!" Malachaius screams, waving a white-furred finger at us. Several guards start running and so do we.
"Too late for that, I'm afraid," I call over my shoulder. Dern throws back his head and gives a hearty laugh. He pulls his tall lance free, blocking an attack from a refugee and shoving the off-balance pursuer to the ground. "Where do we go?" I demand, ducking around a sword-swinging boy.
"Only one way down unless we jump!"
"Better get your fat ass through, then!"
"Nice to know you care, Sweetheart," he laughs, catching up to my side. Three guards block the way off the mountain's peak. Since when was this place a military zone? He blocks an attack from one swordsman and I'm forced to stand behind him. Everyone else, from nu mou to bangaa to hume, is quickly catching up, weapons bared.
"Dern?" I huff, backing up so far my back is practically pressed to his. The three guards are teaming up on him, hitting him from all angles. There's a split second when I see a stream of flames shooting from the palm of a hobbling nu mou. Then I'm screaming incoherent words, clutching my arm only to tear my hand away, feeling my flesh burn and boil. Dern's quick to beat the fire away, kneeling on the ground beside me. I shove him away, jerking his spear free from his grasp.
"Shae!"
"Should've let us go, you poor sot," I growl, piercing the midsection of the first guard's thin armor. With a strangled cry he falls to his knees, pressing his hands to the growing stain on his shirt. In midst of the chaos, I drag Dern after me and we run past the other two stunned guards.
"Thanks," he breathes, catching the spear I toss back to him. "Don't stop!"
There's practically no one on our heels. My left arm screams in pain, blistered and burned beyond repair. The cold is bitter, icy. By the time we leap across the slippery icebergs and cross the freezing river, we're laughing as loudly as we can. We don't care if the monsters hear us; we're finally free to do whatever the hell it is we want to do.
"First things first, we sell all this," Dern starts, patting his jingling pockets. A light fog begins to settle, but we pay it no mind. "Then we pick up a nice ship—nothing too fancy or set in stone. I want you to be able to draw out some plans for her."
"I've already started imagining the possibilities," I grin. He glances at me, his gaze heavy and warm.
"But even before that, we fix your arm up. That fire ruined your sleeve, too."
"Forget the sleeve," I huff, rolling my eyes. "I'll cover the scars once it's healed enough. No use in drawing attention to ourselves, hm?"
"I suppose." He sighs, stretching his arms over his head. "You and me, Shae. We're going to change what Ivalice thinks of sky pirates forever. Deal?"
"A most definite one," I laugh, nodding.
Though the night fog may be blinding and the stars can't shine through the clouds to lead us, Dern will guide my walk down the correct path. I'm sure of it.