"Al-Cid," Vaan gasps, rushing into the closed cabin containing the strange man we met in Mount Bur-Omisace. His boots are kicked up on Reddas's desk and his dark hair is brushed in front of his eyes. A woman stands silently at his side, hands clasped before her.

"We let ourselves inside," the man replies, his accent as thick as ever. "The situation is one demanding some haste, you understand."

"How did you know where we were?" I ask, crossing my arms. Al-Cid stands abruptly, lifting his chin.

"My little birds, they tell me many, many things." He stops before Ashe, looking down at her through his dark glasses. "My Lady, the war begins now."

"Then you were unsuccessful in stopping the Rozarrian fleet?"

"I used a variety of methods. All went according to plan until it came time to request withdrawal of our most devoted generals." He paces to the edge of the broad ship, scratching his dark goatee. The rest of the party strides into the room, watching the odd man. "In their enthusiasm for war, our great military leaders went behind my back, straight to Marquis Ondore's Resistance."

"The Resistance?" Ashe repeats, eyes wide.

"During training, a division of Resistance ignored their orders and disappeared. They were next found exchanging broadsides with the Imperials over Old Nabradia."

"Why would they go there?" Basch demands. "They were asking to be found!"

"You misunderstand. Those ships most surely belonged to a Rozarrian division. They may have joined Ondore's resistance forces as patriots, or even mercenaries, but in reality, they are regulars of the Rozarrian army under direct command of our war-pavilion. This fifth column has invaded Imperial airspace and provoked a response. Unable to abandon them, His Excellency the Marquis was obliged to give his main fleet the order to attack." Balthier paces over to a nearby table, leaning against the edge of the wooden surface with his arms crossed as he listens. He's restless. "And the battleground... is Dalmasca."

"Should this fight drag on, Rozarria with enter the fray, the defense of Dalmasca as their excuse," Balthier muses, looking over at Ashe, "and we will have a war between empires."

"Neither side can take that," I huff, rubbing the back of my neck. "The casualties to both would be detrimental. Vayne's plan to take history back may just result in ending it."

"Correct! They will bide their time, waiting to strike, until the Empire has spent itself against the Marquis. But Vayne—he will crush them and the Marquis both between his hands." Al-Cid claps his hands together sharply and Penelo jumps.

"Vayne holds the Dusk Shard no longer," Basch points out. "His advantage is lost."

"Vayne has advantages enough," Al-Cid counters. "He stands on higher ground, and my birds tell me he has awoken something quite..." He slides his glasses to the end of his nose, eyes piercing mine. "...Large."

"Bahamut," I sigh, shaking my head and taking a deep breath.

"What?" Vaan frowns.

"Bahamut, Lord of the Sky," Al-Cid says. "There was a stirring in the Mist in the direction of Ridorana, I'm told. Bahamut awoke soon after this."

"It is the Mist that came before the Cryst was undone. It breathed lifted into this Bahamut," Fran speaks up, crossing her arms. "If Reddas had not stopped it when he did, how much more Mist might it have drunk?" She turns to face Balthier. "All went according to Doctor Cid's designs." Balthier huffs and his fingers twitch, gripping the edge of the table tightly as he grits out his reply.

"Yes, the man's last great accomplishment, I fear." He sighs, meeting Ashe's eyes. "And so it falls on me to put an end to the thing."

"Not you alone," I shake my head. "Vayne's my brother; he's the reason we're in this mess to begin with."

"... Vayne commands Bahamut himself?" Ashe asks, walking closer to Al-Cid.

"He comes to Rabanastre."

"Then I will defend Dalmasca and stop this Bahamut. This is my charge—"

"That's our charge, actually," Vaan butts in, flashing a smile.

"It's our home," Penelo pipes up, grabbing Ashe's arm. "It's belongs to us all."

"Well, not all of us," I reply lightly. Balthier's lips quirk up into a smug smile when Ashe turns to face he and Fran.

"And my charge is to hinder and delay this. Rozarrian invasion for as long as is possible," Al-Cid mutters, heading for the door. "I will do what I can. Ah, yes..." He turns back sharply, taking one of Ashe's hands in his and pulling his glasses off. "When this unpleasantness is done, you must come to Rozarria. I will take you to the Ambervale of Clan Margrace. Such things I will show you! Until then, I will be waiting." With that, he leaves behind a confused Ashe and exits the room. Balthier scoffs loudly, resting his hands on his hips and rolling his eyes.

"Jealous?" I tease, nudging him with my hip.

"Of what?" Balthier practically snorts.

"Of his way with words and women, what else?" I scoff, earning a snicker from Vaan. Ashe shakes her head, taking a deep breath.

"I suppose we're to take the Strahl to the Bahamut then?"

"We can hardly fight Vayne from the ground," Basch points out. Balthier exchanges a glance with Fran.

"It seems we have no choice, dear," he sighs, straightening and hitting the back of my shoulder as he starts toward the door. "Looks like you're going to have to give the co-pilot's seat back to Fran, Shae."

"I don't mind," I say, though my fingers itch to discover more of the beauty's quirks and secrets.

"No," Fran shakes her head, following us out of the room. "I will show Vaan how to fly. You must rest."

"There's no need," Balthier frowns. "I'm rested enough to—"

"Let her do what she wants," I cut him off. "It's not often that Fran asks for something."

"That's what you'd think until you were stuck with her for years," Balthier mutters, earning a side-eyed stare from the viera. "Fine, fine. I'll laze about and you teach the urchin to wreck our ship. Sounds like a plan."

"Are we headed straight to Rabanastre?" I ask hesitantly, watching Balfonheim pass by as we hurry to the aerodrome.

"As long as Vayne is, we are," he sighs, shaking his head. "Though, I admit that I wish we had more time. This won't be quite as simple as everything else has been."

"Nothing's been simple," I frown. He shrugs.

"I suppose not... But my point stands."

"Vayne's always been a pain in the ass," I mumble, taking a breath of the salty sea breeze. "But this... This really takes the cake."

We head into the aerodrome and hurry to the Strahl. Boarding one by one, everyone disperses. Vaan plops into the co-pilot's chair beside Fran, his eyes wide as he looks over all the buttons, levers, and switches. Penelo perches in the seat behind him and watches. Ashe and Basch seat next to each other, speaking in low voices as they once did when we first started out on this chaotic chase of a journey.

I start to head toward the cabin with everyone else only to be halted by the sound of Balthier clearing his throat. I raise an eyebrow and he jerks his head to the left, starting toward a door a few feet away. Torn, I hesitate before following with a sigh. The door opens to reveal a simple bedroom with a bed and desk bolted to the floor. A side table is secured beside the narrow bed and below a broad window, and the drawers are all latched in case of a bumpy ride. Balthier waits for me to step into the room before closing the door and heaving a sigh.

"Are you alright?" I ask, tracing a finger across the smooth wood of the clean desk. There's nothing but a simple jar of potions resting at the corner and a pen waiting to be used at the edge.

"I'm alright," Balthier replies, running a hand through his short hair before sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows pressed to his thighs and his head hung.

"It's odd, isn't it?" I turn to the window, watching the crew of moogles leave the undercarriage of the ship. "Knowing it's all over... That his fight's done."

"... I suppose."

I kneel before the pirate, ducking my head to meet his lowered eyes. Silently, I press my palm to his cheek, forcing the smallest semblance of a smile.

"I understand. At this rate... I suppose it's best to forget all about him until later."

"You're not helping," he replies bluntly, but his tone is light. He reaches up and pulls my hand away, pressing his lips to my knuckles. My heart flutters; I shudder, pulling away sharply and heading across the room to busy myself with the desk. "I almost think we should give in and blow the whole damned nation up."

"You can't be serious," I scoff, pulling the wooden desk chair close to the bed and sitting on it backwards. "You of all people should know that those citizens are far more innocent than anyone that claims to represent them."

"I was only teasing," he sighs, looking up at me. "Though, I'd rather get this all over with—this oppression and violence nonsense."

"And you think I don't? This is a war Vayne and I have been fighting for six years." I shake my, propping my head up with my hand. "But that's just the way it is these days, now isn't it? It's all a matter of perspective. On one side, the killers are the heroes that bring victory home on their shoulders. On the other, they're the bloodthirsty villains that work for the devil himself. Either way, someone's left trampled in the dust whether they deserve it or not."

"But are they ever truly quelled?" Balthier counters. "Once unrest is bred, there's no such thing as peace. True satisfaction is hard to come by." I cock my head to the side, thinking.

"And after all this... you think you'll be satisfied?"

"One can hope, though I doubt it. This was never the plan," he admits, shaking his head. "And you? This is your life's mission, is it not?"

"I suppose I'll have find something new to busy myself with," I shrug. Balthier raises an eyebrow and I feel my face growing red. Gods, that sounded so... I swallow hard, looking at the floor. That's not what I meant at all.

"What's the plan?"

"Rebuild the Castean," I reply quickly, certain of my answer. "Perhaps I'll invite Jonan to help; he is the one who tore it pieces, after all."

"Of course he's invited," Balthier mutters, rolling his eyes as he straightens. "Does your forgiveness for the boy ever run out?"

"What's your issue?" I scoff, standing and pushing the chair back to where it belongs before running a hand through my hair. "He's a piece of past that I can't just cut off."

"Even after all he did?"

"Even after all he did."

"... Damn." I laugh, shaking my head. "What do I have to do to earn that sort of leniency?"

"Don't worry about it," I reply simply, flashing a smug smile. "It's not exactly a reoccurring favor."

"Pity." He reaches out and takes my hands, pulling me closer. I settle on his lap, facing him with an eyebrow raised expectantly. "What's that look for?"

"Since when are you touchy?"

"I'm not."

"Then what's this?" I retort.

"Don't worry about it."

"Sure thing," I scoff, rolling my eyes. "I won't worry about the man who, once the pirate to tell me off for speaking to him, I am now straddling."

"It seems times have changed," he replies simply, cocky as ever. I roll my eyes, flinching when a hand takes mine, fingers playing with the cold metal bands that I wear to represent my haunted memories. "I nearly forgot about your obsession with finding petty meaning in your jewelry," he mutters.

"I don't know why you don't. They were intended to be symbols."

"Were they? I suppose I could find some meaning with help."

"You want me to help you understand the significance of some petty, colorful jewelry," I state in mock disbelief. He only smiles. "You're an irritating bastard, you know that?"

"And yet, here you are." He lifts a hand, eyeing the collection of mismatched rings there. "I think the idea that a simple little band could tie anyone to anything ridiculous, to be perfectly honest."

"Do you now?" I hardly understand the point of the argument, but fighting is one thing I'm particularly good at, and I'm determined to play along if it means I'll win. "How could I convince you otherwise?"

"I doubt you can," he chuckles. "You could easily pick out one of these and claim that it represents the tie between the two of us, and then I'd be expected to chase after a disaster of royal blood for the rest of my days."

"Not exactly," I laugh. "But what's stopping you?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he teases.

"Scared I'm right, hm?"

"No."

"Then let me pick one," I grin, catching hold of his wrist. "I pick my favorite and that one represents us, whether I'm stuck here or we part for eternity after Vayne's defeat. Just a semblance of good memories, yeah?"

"Good? I'm not expecting much from you," he reminds me slyly. I swat at his head. "But if you get a kick out it, go ahead."

"I'd get a kick out of watching rocks erode at this rate."

"That's rather boring and insulting. Am I not enough entertainment for you?"

"We'll see soon enough," I shrug. He chuckles, turning his eyes to the window as our altitude increases.

"I do have one request for you," he says suddenly, his voice having changed into an odd, serious tone. "Stay around for at least a little while after this is over. See if you can't fit here with me and Fran. The least we could do is find supplies for your ship."

"You're kidding," I blurt without thinking. His unchanged expression turns my stomach to lead and I shake my head, my heart stinging from another lash. This isn't how I wanted him to know. "Balthier, we've had our fun and you've been the reason this has all been bearable, but..." I shrug stiffly, unable to catch my breath through my tightening throat. "I didn't expect to see you after this. To be honest, I was expecting the two of us to branch off and never speak again."

"Is that what you'd hoped?" His words are sharper than I'd expected them to be. I cringe, glancing toward the door.

"Well, yes. I'm sorry, but after Dern, I can't risk—"

"You're giving in to fear, then," he snaps, scowling. I sigh. I don't blame him for the sudden turn in his mood, but at the same time, he couldn't have possibly thought I was going to stick around. That's not who I am. I'm not Shera. I'm Shae; I run. It's as simple as that. "Was that what you expected when you pouted on Reddas's ship? Your mind has changed so much since then, Shae."

"I didn't pout," I defend half-heartedly. A heavy, cold silence overtakes the room and I take a deep, shuddering breath. "I... can't lie and say that I don't want to stay, Balthier. I'm just tired of being the curse of misery and misfortune on the people I... care about."

"The curse was cast by Vayne. I meant when he was long dead."

More silence passes before I finally meet his angry eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure I can take any more dramatic tragedies... Please try to understand." He says nothing. I force a light laugh, resting a hand at the nape of his neck. "I suppose that's the thing I envy about you. You've always kept yourself facing forward, ready for the next adventure despite the past's grip. You dive headfirst into danger in hopes that there'll be treasure on the other side. You're fearless, Balthier." I take his hand and tap an orange ring that's twisted around his middle finger. "You know, I've taken a liking to this one. Matches my sash and all." Balthier huffs a short sigh, looking between me and the simple metal band.

"Well, then," he starts, his face serious but his eyes light. "Perhaps someday, when I'm certain you won't go running off and I can bear to part with it, I'll hand it over to you."

"Deal," I grin, shaking his hand. He arches an eyebrow.

"That's not how I'd rather seal this utterly ridiculous agreement." I roll my eyes, pressing my lips to his. He chuckles, burying a hand into my hair and pushing me closer. Pulling away for a moment with his eyes shining mischievously, he rests a hand on my hip. "What say we do this Jonan's way? We might not leave this encounter alive, you know." I laugh, shaking my head and pushing him back onto the mattress.

"I say you're a pessimist and a fool, Ffamran."

"Ah, but you can't say you're bothered by it," he replies smoothly.

"No," I admit, pulling my shirt off over my head and tossing it to the floor. "I suppose I can't."