We rush up the stairs as quickly as our legs will carry us. My legs burn, but not nearly as much as my blood does when I see Vayne's tall, slender figure standing in the center of the round room. The breath is knocked from my lungs upon seeing his pale eyes for the first time since I was arrested in Rabanastre with Vaan and Balthier. His dark hair brushes over his shoulders as he turns to face us with his hands clasped behind his back. Larsa stands beside him, brows furrowed and hands balled into fists. If I didn't want to deal with the repercussions, I would rush at Vayne and skewer him on my spear by his throat before anyone could stop me. Larsa gasps upon seeing us. Vayne lifts a hand out to the side, his face devoid of any emotion.

"I bit you welcome to my sky fortress, the Bahamut. I must apologize for my delay in welcoming you aboard my ship." He presses his hand to his chest and gives the slightest bow. Vaan frowns and Balthier rolls his eyes. "Permit me to ask: who are you? An angel of vengeance? Or perchance a saint of salvation?"

"I am simply myself," Ashe replies softly. "No more and no less. And I want only to be free."

"Hm," Vayne hums. "Such a woman is not fit to bear the burden of rule." He extends his hand yet again, eyes narrowed on the princess. "I'm sure you've learned my dear sister is in the same situation. You have, after all, been traveling together for some time."

"I have no desire to take away your imaginary playpen of kings and kingdoms," I retort, catching his eyes in a bitter glare. "I've never had an interest in the throne; you know this."

"Ah, but you have the desire to take away my life, and that is fuel enough," he replies smoothly.

Anger burns in my chest and I grit my teeth. His lack of reaction, his empty voice... I want him to feel the same rage that I do, to feel my pain. To suffer at my hand as I did at his.

Gods, I'm more like Gabranth than I thought.

"Weep for Dalmasca, for she is lost," he continues, redirecting his focus to Ashe. The slightest of smiles tugs at his lips. "Observe well, Larsa. Watch and mark you the suffering of those who must rule, yet lack the power."

"No."

Vayne's face falls and he takes a deep breath. Larsa scowls up at him indignantly, raising his sword toward our elder brother. Somewhere in the flames of my fury, I feel pride well up. That's my boy.

"No, Brother," Larsa says in a voice that's almost mocking. "I will not. Though I lack your power, I will still persist." My heart sinks when Vayne chuckles.

"Bold words, child. It seems you've spent too much time with our Shera."

"Cocky bastard," I scoff, pulling out my spear and rushing toward him with Vaan hot on my heels.

I raise the sturdy wood of my spear to block the first quick, sharp jabs he throws at me with his fists, ducking under a swing from his leg and bashing his head with the blunt end of my weapon. Balthier fires twice, but it seems as though Vayne doesn't feel the bullets, turning to deliver a swift kick to Vaan's chest. He spins midair and hits me square in the face with his elbow. Damn you, Vayne. I crinkle my nose and spit out a mouthful of blood from where I bit my tongue upon impact. I should've gone to training more when I lived with him.

Basch and Ashe rush in with their blades at the ready as Penelo sends out a flurry of healing spells. Fran fires a trio of flaming arrows, momentarily distracting Vayne long enough that Basch can get a good slash in. But my brother's as fast on his feet as the hares in the plains surrounding Jahara; the knight's flat on his back with a nasty nosebleed in mere moments. Fran scorches him in response and Balthier's gun cracks again. Back on my feet, I lunge at him, blocking a few more attacks as though my spear is a quarterstaff and leaping backward to evade a strike from his boot. Vayne backs off as well, lifting his chin as he stares us all down.

"Your lives are forfeit, and your insurgence with them. Dalmasca will again know order. For good and all, I shall bring your futile attempts at rebellion to an end." His hand balls up and bursts into a ball of dark magick, which he launches our way, I roll out of the way of the energy beam only to hear Penelo cry out as she's flung back to a wall.

"Penelo!" Larsa cries, rushing to assist the unconscious girl.

"This is what you deserve for creating alliances with the weak!" Vayne bellows, easily toppling Ashe over to the ground. How long does he think his flailing will keep us down? He has fists; we wield blades.

"Stop trying to poison his mind!" I shout, jabbing at him with my lance. He evades quickly, sharply slamming the sole of his boot into my stomach. I collapse, wheezing and clutching my body. "He's too... brilliant for your... mind games," I force out, glowering up at him. "Haven't you noticed, Big Brother?" I grit my teeth when he grips my throat, lifting me into the air and throwing me back into the ground like I'm a ragdoll.

"It seems as though you only inherited life itself from the Solidor blood, mutt."

"At least I admit to what I am," I counter, ignoring the hot trickle of blood that's started to run down the back of my neck. Vayne pushes Vaan back with a series of rapid strikes before turning to me with sharp eyes.

"I—"

He never finishes his sentence. The sword that pierces through the front of his body is pulled out and my brother, paler than usual, falls flat on his face, lifeless. Basch steps back, blood smeared across his forehead and eyes Ashe. Vaan rushes to pull me to my feet, concerned when I nearly lose my balance from being dizziness.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," I reply shortly. My voice is empty, cold. That was my moment... that was my vengeance, my ending.

"Lord Brother!" Larsa cries, rushing toward Vayne's still body.

"Larsa!" Penelo protests, having been healed up by the boy and brought back to normal. A sudden bolt of electricity spikes through the air, capturing Larsa for merely a moment before throwing him to the floor with his brother. The bolt forces his body to twitch once more, jerking his muscles in odd directions. My heart stops.

"No!"

I shove my way out of Vaan's hold and run toward the fallen boy, skidding to a stop when a blood-red cloud begins to seep from his and Vayne's skin. The chancellor suddenly gasps for air, jerking upright and twitching, hidden by the heavy mist. Hesitant, I take a step back. Suddenly, the crimson fog bursts out in all directions and Vayne screams, flashes of electricity flickering throughout the cloud. I gasp, stumbling backward, startled. The force of the blast sends me flat on my ass; the others shield their faces until the mist fades. In place of Vayne stands a mass of twisted, bulging muscles.

"Manufacted nethicite!" Ashe calls.

Vayne's shirt has vanished, and his pants remain as armor, golden and gleaming. His hair hangs around his morphed face. A series of swords rushes around him in a circle, coming to a stop behind him as they wait for their use by their new master. Even his voice is odd when he speaks.

"Behold the power left me by our fallen friend." The nasty hit I took to the head took more than my balance away. I've lost all desire to drag this out.

"You sick fuck!" I scream, panicked when I can't quite understand what's happened to Larsa. "What did you do to him?!"

"Gabranth," Vayne says, ignoring me and drawing our attention to the limping soldier to our right. "You will defend my brother. He will have need in the hell to follow." In response, Gabranth raises his sword.

"Yes, I will defend Lord Larsa!"

"The hound strays," Vayne scoffs. "Treason bears a price."

"One I gladly pay."

Vayne rushes toward us, enraged, but his feet never once touch the ground. He flies about quickly, carried by the same red mist that transformed him into the monstrosity that he's become. Physically, anyway. I suppose the outside finally matches the inside. The swords start to swarm, flurries of blades that slash at the nearest target. Fran immediately gets to word with magick spells, accompanied by the echoing crack of Balthier's gun.

I grip my spear in both hands, rushing forward and driving the weapon into Vayne's side. No longer guarded by armor, his flesh gives and a stream of blood flows from the gaping wound. I almost revel in my victory—but that's before one of the blades buries itself deep into my shoulder. I let out a soundless cry, striking the sword with the butt of my lance only to struck by Vayne and sent flying across the room. Before I can truly feel all the building pain, Penelo sends a hefty wave of healing magick my way.

Vayne gives a wave of his hand and the swords move to lash out at his more distant assailants. This gives Basch, Vaan, and Ashe the opportunity to rush in at my side. We deal as much damage as we can, slashing and stabbing with blades of all kinds. It's not until I hear a pained cry that I take a step back. My heart catches in my throat when I see that the flurry of six swords has ganged up on Balthier and Fran, hacking away.

Clenching my jaw, I sprint across the round room and muster as much strength as I can before bludgeoning two blades out of the way and sending them clattering to the floor across the room. Accompanying the clanging of metal hitting stone is a deafening crack that, at first, I perceive to be a shot from Balthier's gun. And then the whole back half of Dern's spear hits the ground. Fran beats another away with her bow; Balthier ducks under a slash that would've taken his head off, clutching his side as he runs. Basch hurries to take his place in assisting Fran.

"This bastard's tougher than I thought," Balthier grits, eyeing the blood that seeps between his fingers.

"You don't say," I scoff, still shaken by the broken weapon in my left hand.

I huff, looking up to call for Penelo only to be struck to the ground by one of Vayne's soaring, meaty fists. Stunned, I hardly have the chance to roll out of the way before he moves to attack again. Dizzily, I scramble to my feet only to be thrown forward onto my stomach. I twist around to jab at Vayne with what's left of my spear only to meet a flash of sparks as Gabranth's sword meets Vayne's gauntlets. One of Vayne's swords sails back around and slams into the side of the Judge's helmet, tearing off a third of the metal to reveal a portion of a face that matches Basch's exactly.

"Even a stray has pride!" Gabranth growls.

I drag myself away from the two, hoisted up and supported by Basch. My heading is spinning at a thousand miles an hour and I doubt anyone else is in much better shape. We're all bloodied and battered from being tossed about by Vayne's newfound power. With a shout, Vayne throws Gabranth away from him as if he weighs nothing. The Judge lands with a heavy thud, the remains of his helmet skittering away. Basch lets go of me to kneel at his brother's side.

"Here I pay my debt," Gabranth forces out. It feels wrong to think of such a name when the man's face is revealed. His hair is shorter than his brother's, pushed back from his face and he lacks the scar that Basch bears across his brow.

"Burn in Hell, Gabranth!" Vayne thunders waving for his swords to finish the Judge off. Rather than blood, though, I see a blinding light followed quickly by the blue glow of nethicite—nethicite that is held up in the small hand of Larsa Solidor. The Swords circle the stone before flickering out of existence. With a glimmer, the nethicite bursts and dissolves. Larsa flashes a smug smile at his shocked elder brother. Seeing a window of opportunity, Vaan dashes forward and snatches up Gabranth's sword, rushing at Vayne and sending him flying down the stairs.

Quickly, Penelo casts a healing spell and Vaan and Balthier rush after the fleeing leader of Archadia. Larsa sighs and falls to his knees; Penelo and I rush to his side. I fall to the ground, wincing when my slightly healed wounds throb in protest, and take his hand.

"You did good, Larsa," I reassure him, hand on his back.

"I... I hope I did," he stammers, eyes lost on some distant object.

"You did," Penelo nods. "You stopped him from killing Gabranth, and if you hadn't done that, we'd all be goners. Thank you."

"Y-yes, of course," Larsa nods, blinking out of his thoughts. "You'd best catch up to him, then. I will stay here with Gabranth."

As of cue, Basch strides by. Penelo stands to join him, hurrying to catch up to the others. I hesitate, pulling Larsa in toward my chest and holding him there tightly for as long as my impatience will allow. Sighing, I press a kiss to the top of his head, relishing in the feeling of holding this young boy as I watch him grow into the leading man he's meant to become. Of being allowed the chance to see him every day without fear of Vayne's wrath. Of being allowed to love my brother as he was meant to be loved by his own mother, the mother who never knew her husband's secret child. I swallow the lump in my throat and stand, wordlessly nodding my goodbye to him before taking off in a sprint to catch up.

I come to a dead stop behind the rest of the party, watching Vayne drag himself out onto the deck, clutching his side. The wind whips his dark hair around his broad, bulging shoulders as he stumbles along, lifting his face to the sky.

"Venat!" he bellows. Before him shimmers the gray, fallen Occuria that once served Balthier's father. "I've failed us both. I am no Dynast-King. You must find another. One who might realize your ambitions."

"They are fulfilled beyond your knowing," comes the distorted voice of Venat. "The Cryst is sundered, age of Stones complete. From the undying ones the world is freed. You shall not tread this path alone. Together we go. Come." Venat moves to the side and Vayne chuckles, moving closer the end of the balcony.

"Won't Cid be eager to learn what has happened here," he muses. "History begins anew..."

Venat disappears and bright, glittering gold lights begin to ripple across Vayne's back, sparking a bright flame across his skin. Streams of light burst forth, firing into the sky and swirling around his disfigured body. Shit. We should have ended him immediately. The lights that burst from his skin soar toward overhead ships like missiles, leaving dozens of exploding airships bursting into flames and sailing toward the desert below. Vayne shouts waving his arm and sending out another spray of lights.

The flames engulf him and he screams, doubling over. I watch in horror as the light beams dive into portions of the ship and retrieve entire chunks of debris, building Vayne a new massive, armored body built with wings and talons. He soars up into the air, absorbing innumerable amounts of steel into his new form until he's nothing but a grotesque, twitching machine with the flesh of a man mashed in the middle.

With a final roar, he dives down toward the deck, flashing a disgusting grin at me as he catches my expression. Huffing, I secure the top of Dern's spear to my back and pull my mythril knife out of my boot, tracing a finger along the emblem carved into the side. After this, the Solidor crest will be nothing but a shame of the past. A smile tugs at my lips. Fitting that it should be used on its previous owner.

Basch and Ashe immediately run at him with their swords, hacking away at the scrap metal that coats his body. I stand back with Vaan, waiting for him to come closer before attacking. Vayne flies out of the way easily, landing a few feet away and slamming his feet onto the ground. His eyes flash white and wind begins to whip around him, sending a wave of rubble our way. I dive behind a wall on the deck, hurrying back into the fight once the coast is clear. Bits of debris continue to whip about, knocking us around and creating little cuts across our skin.

I duck under a flying shard of ice and cut deeper into a tear created by Fran's arrow. Basch rips into the other side of Vayne's armor. An appendage reaches out to strike Ashe and she brings her blade down over it, leaving the enormous chunk of metal to cool on the ground. Vayne shrieks, batting at the princess. She cries out when she's flung to the ground across the balcony. Penelo rushes to her side and Balthier fires once more before letting Fran step in front of him to use another round of magick attacks.

Vayne slings out a blinding beam of white light. I grit my teeth, shielding my eyes and hoping that I'm not hit by anything while I'm preoccupied. My arm's cut open by a disc of one thing or another that flies by, but otherwise, I'm in good shape. The gashes in Vayne's metal case reach his skin now; we're down deep enough to do some real damage. Fran seems to realize this first, firing arrows into his chest in rapid succession. I rush past Ashe to get my hands dirty, slashing away at his exposed midsection. Blood begins to stain my hands far more literally than figuratively. It was likely Ashe's final blow that did him in.

Without the strength to hold himself down, Vayne's wings catch the wind and pull him into the air. The golden flames that created his new body ignite at his core, rippling across every surface touching his flesh. He writhes, trying to bat it out in a panicked state. In mere seconds, he's swallowed by the fire, screaming to the heavens. The metal that coats his body flies away piece by piece, tearing him apart that the seams. The flames turn to liquid, running over his skin and burning him alive. I can sense the buildup before it bursts; I grab anyone nearby and start sprinting toward any sort of shelter. The others follow blindly. Above, Vayne quite literally explodes, sending waves of fire and light across the sky.

The second the smoke clears, we emerge. I clutch the cut on my arm, looking up at the sky as if I might catch one more glimpse of my brother—of who he used to be. There's nothing but clouds, debris, and smoke. Not even a semblance of his body remains. I huff an empty laugh. Better there be nothing but ashes than something another corrupt Occuria could awaken. I look over to see Balthier hold out a fist to Fran. She bumps it with hers twice; I fight a smile. Those two never cease to impress me. Penelo laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. A rush of overwhelming emotions hits me. He's dead. He's finally dead.

The man who murdered our two older brothers, dead. The man who twisted the truth, forced my hand, and stole my joy, dead. The man who hunted me down and took the one I loved to bring him to death's door, dead.

Vayne Carudas Solidor... Dead.

Unable to control myself, I sprint across the deck and throw my arms around Balthier's neck, laughing and crying and choking on air. He chuckles, ignoring Vaan's mocking "kissy" sounds. Just as I pull away, Penelo gasps, alerting us all to a burning airship that speeds past overhead. I sigh, shoulders slumping. That's right; we're still stuck in the middle of a war zone. Ashe turns sharply on her heels and we follow suit, running at top speed back to the interior of the Bahamut.

We only slow once we're in the Strahl. Fran and Balthier throw themselves into the seats at the control panel, flicking switches and checking monitors. Vaan and I loom behind them, watching.

"Well? Can we fly?" Balthier asks, turning to look at Fran quickly.

"No fuel goes to the glossair engines," she replies, shaking her head.

"Damn!" Balthier leaps to his feet, quite literally shoving Vaan into the pilot's seat. "Vaan, you're in charge. I'm checking the engine room." He turns and motions to Fran. "Fran, with me!"

Something outside explodes, rocking the Strahl to the left sharply. I look up to see what caused the sudden interruption when a particularly alarming sight catches my eye.

"Balthier, the Bahamut's glossair rings are stopping!" I warn, turning back to face the sky pirate. He curses under his breath.

"Vaan! As soon as the Strahl's rings move, you take off. Understood?" Vaan nods hesitantly, settling into the pilot's seat slowly. "You can fly her, Vaan. Just do it like we told you."

"Don't worry," the thief nods. Balthier turns to me.

"I want him in the hot seat. Shae, you stay beside him and keep the ship in check."

"But—"

"Watch for interference from the Bahamut's skystone," Fran says, cutting me off and gently pushing me into the copilot's chair. "The Strahl's a fickle girl. You keep her working for us, understood?"

"Wait—"

With that, the two turn on their heels and rush out of the cockpit. I watch them go; my stomach sinks to my feet. That's not the engine room. I leap out of the chair, wordlessly shoving Penelo into it in my place, and run after them. That's not...

"Balthier!" I practically scream over the sounds of the whipping winds outside. The sky pirate sighs, turning to face me just before he starts to step out of the Strahl.

"Fran," he says curtly, motioning with his head for her to keep going.

"What are you doing?" I demand, my heart pounding against my chest.

"I've got to fix those glossairs or this fortress is going to obliterate Rabanastre," he says in a rushed voice, starting toward the exit. I step in front of him, frowning.

"We don't have time for your heroics. There are ways to fix this from the air."

"But the easiest is from the inner workings. Now, if you could please—"

"What are we to do if you're not back?"

"Leave without us. There ought to be ways—"

"You're going to get killed!"

"I will if I can't get there in time," he snaps, quickly losing his cool composure. "You know what this repair takes, Shera."

"I do, but I also know that this place is going to break down on top of you," I reply sharply. The briefest moment of panicked silence passes and I grab his shoulders, shaking him gently. "We've only just survived. I can't go losing you now." Something changes in his face and he sighs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. A hand brushes my hip.

"You won't. I need all the time I can get, and you're spending it. I've only got to twist a few things back into place, and then Fran and I will be back inside the belly of the Strahl." Quickly, Balthier pulls away from all contact, stepping around me and leaving.

"You swear you'll make your best effort to come back?" I call over the wind. He turns back, grinning.

"I swear it on Fran's life!"

"That's not reassuring," I huff, pressing the switch the close the hatch with trembling hands. Something about this does not feel right, but I couldn't afford to eat up any more of his time if I wanted them to have a chance at survival.

I turn and head back to the cockpit, stopping by Basch when I hear his brother speak from the bunk where he was laid. I kneel beside Larsa, resting a hand at the base of his back and listening to the brothers converse in silence.

"Basch... Look after Larsa, will you?" Gabranth forces out, his face smudged with dirt and soot. "If House Solidor should crumble, the Empire would fail and civil war would take us all."

"I understand," Basch nods, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

"Lord Larsa is our last hope," Gabranth says quietly, turning his eyes up to me. "You must do your part as well, Lady Shera. If Larsa should fall... I expect you'll take responsibility."

"Of course," I reply, dreading the day that would require me to do so.

"Take care of him..."

Larsa takes hold of the Judge's hand as the last of his life fades away. Basch watches his brother's last breath with no expression, but the sorrow in his eyes speaks volumes. From the other room, I hear Penelo exclaim something about the power returning. I leave the three to mourn their loss and head back into the cockpit, kneeling between the two seats at the control panel.

"How do we...?" Vaan starts to panic. I motion to a series of controls.

"These, remember? Fran taught you well; don't freak yourself out."

"Right. Grab on to something!"

I hang on to their seats as we lurch away from the Bahamut at full speed, shooting off into the sky. Ashe stands abruptly as soon as we level out.

"Basch, I need you to call off Imperial units as Gabranth." C'mon woman, he only just lost the guy and now he has to be him?

"Of course," Basch nods, standing and reaching for the intercom system. I push myself up to my feet and hurry to help him make contact to the other ships' radios. The knight glances at his brother once more before turning away and facing the cockpit. "This is Judge Magister Gabranth!" he calls into the speaker, adjusting his voice the slightest bit to accommodate for his brother's acquired Imperial accent. "All quarters cease fire!" The Strahl turns abruptly, facing the Bahamut as we slow to a stop. "All units of the Archadian army, hold your fire! The battle is over! As of this moment, we have signed a cease-fire with Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca, Her Royal Majesty." He turns and hands the speaker to Larsa, who takes it into a gloved hand with a grateful nod and a distant look in his eyes.

"Attention. This is Larsa Ferrinas Solidor. My brother Vayne has died with honor in battle. The Lady Shera Castean Solidor has declined the throne to me. The Imperial Fleet is now under my command!" I exchange can't help but smile at the boy. I've done far more than decline the throne. I suppose with formalities and all, he's forced to acknowledge my return, but I'm sure the troops already knew thanks to Vayne's master plans to hunt me down.

"This is Ashelia Dalmasca," Ashe says quickly, taking the speaker from Larsa's hands. "I confirm what Judge Magister Gabranth and Larsa Solidor have said here. Please, stand down your attack. The war is over. Ivalice looks to a new horizon. A new day has dawned. We are free!" Basch rests a hand on her shoulder as a sob chokes out whatever words she was to say next.

"Look Vaan, the Bahamut!" Penelo cries, pointing at the sky fortress. Small explosions ripple across the surface of the massive ship. The intercom system crackles to life once more, but's with an incoming message from another rather large ship.

"This is Judge Zargabaath, captain of the Alexander, flagship of the twelfth Dalmascan Fleet of the Archadian Army. I address all ships in Rabanstre's airspace. The Bahamut must not be allowed to fall on the city of Rabanastre!" My heart sinks. They never fixed the glossair rings... Balthier's not exactly known for leaving things unfinished... "All ships, concentrate your fire on the Alexander's remains once Bahamut is clear of the city. We've no choice but to ram the sky fortress."

"Hasty, aren't they?" I leap to my feet, snatching the speaker away from Ashe as Balthier's voice crackles over the system. "I think it's a little early to be throwing away our lives just yet."

"Balthier?" Vaan frowns, twisting around to face me. "Wait, Balthier, where are you?!" The sounds of falling rubble and crashing debris nearly cover his voice.

"Ah, Vaan! Sounds like you made it out okay! The Strahl's a fine airship, eh?"

"What does he think he's doing? Balthier!" the Marquis cries over the same wavelength.

"Marquis! Stop that fool Judge on the Alexander for me, would you? Just getting somewhere with these glossair rings. Almost done! Don't want him ramming me before I fix them, do we?" Another crash echoes in the background and he coughs.

"Balthier! Do you understand exactly what it is you're doing?" Ashe demands, watching the Bahamut continue to break to pieces.

"Princess! No need to worry."

"But we do, you idiot!" I snap, glaring at the sky fortress he ran off to. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Pardon me, Shae, but I hope you haven't forgotten my role in this little story. I'm the leading man. You know what they say about the leading man?" There's a pause and a gentle clink of metal against metal. "He never dies."

"Besides! He's got me!"

"Jonan?!" I practically shriek. What the hell has this turned into?! "Get out of there!"

"I figured I could help them out while I was in town," the boy replies calmly. All across the Bahamut, lights turn on and the rings begin to spin back to life.

"Let's fly!" Balthier cheers. "Fran! Power to the glossair rings... Fran?"

"What's wrong?" I ask, dread filling my stomach with lead.

"Just a bump!" Jonan calls. "She's down, Balthier."

"Do I have to do everything around here?" Balthier grumbles.

"Listen to me, Balthier," Ashe pleads, her voice trembling. "Get out of the Bahamut immediately! Please Balthier! You mustn't die!"

"I'd say you're in more of a supporting role," comes Fran's soft voice.

"Fran, please. Vaan! The Strahl's in your hands! You'd better take care of her, you hear? If there's one scratch on her when I get back—"

"Roger that," Vaan nods.

"No, don't roger that!" I protest. "Balthier, what are you doing!? You're going to get them killed!"

"Why, making my marvelous escape, Princess. Every leading man needs a few under his belt."

"This isn't a game! Jonan, why the hell—"

"We'll be waiting for you," Vaan says, ignoring me.

"We don't have to wait!" I snap, trying to shove my way to the front of the ship. "We can still go back!"

"Shae," Basch says, pulling back on my arm.

"Relax, Shera," Balthier shouts over the sounds of the Bahamut collapsing. "And do me a favor and check your sash. I believe I forgot something important." With that, another fiery explosion cuts out our connection.

"Wait!" I cry helplessly, clinging to the speaker. "Balthier!" Ashe presses her lips together, shaking her head. "Jonan!" The ship swerves to the right just as the base of the Bahamut hits the ground, the rest of the ship slowly collapsing to the ground and pulverizing itself to bits. "No!" I make another lunge for the cockpit, only to be thrown back by Basch.

"They'll make it out!" Vaan reassures me.

"No, they won't!" I protest, kicking at the knight that pulls me away. "That's why Jonan's there!" That seems to catch their attention; five pairs of eyes turn to me in confusion. "He needed to make everything right," I force out, glowering at each person. "To go out with a bang... That's all he wanted, in the end, if it meant he'd gone out doing the right thing."

"... Balthier said to check your sash," Penelo says after a moment. "What's there?"

Hesitantly, I reach down to the brightly colored sash that hangs off my left leg, feeling around in the fabric. There's nothing th... Oh. I take hold of the small object, carefully lifting it up into the light. It's a simple handkerchief, white and smudged with a little dirt. On one corner is a lopped, embroidered "b" for Balthier. Why's it bunched up like this?

"That was his promise to me that he'd bring Vaan back," Penelo smiles, and everyone seems to breathe the slightest sigh of relief. I don't reply, pulling back the bunched edges of the cloth. My heart pounds in my chest, my breath caught in my throat. Finally, I uncover an object so simple and yet so beyond words that I startle myself by clapping a hand over my mouth.

"What is it?" Larsa asks, curiosity sparked by my reaction.

"It's—" I shake my head, unable to speak through my tightened throat. It all hits me at once, from our time in the Strahl to our very last interaction, the last chance I had to see, hear, feel him alive. Trembling, I choke on a strangled sob, clutching the cloth tightly.

"A ring?" Basch frowns, not quite sure of the implications behind the simple vermillion band. I take a shuddering breath, broken completely to pieces as a stream of tears drips from my chin to the floor.

"Hold on, that's a weird way to propose," Vaan half-teases, grinning at me. Another sob rattles my slumped shoulders. I shake my head.

"... He's not coming back."

I turn sharply on my heels and escape to the only sanctuary I know of on this blasted ship, rushing past Gabranth's lifeless body with bleary vision. I hurl the cabin door open and slam it shut behind me, throwing myself onto the unmade bed before letting it all out. Dern. Shaking, choking, sobbing, coughing. Fran. I pull the blankets up over my head, burying my face into the pillow at the head of the bed. Jonan. I choke on another bout of tears, letting them fall without shame in the bed that no longer belongs to anyone. Balthier...

I press my face into the pillow and scream, long and loud, until my throat's raw and I'm too lightheaded to do anything but breathe. I roll over, smelling nothing but machine oil and sandalwood, and toy with Balthier's ring, watching the sunlight reflect off the shifting shades of orange. I'm cursed. I knew this day would come.

I'd tried to ready myself for it. But I was fool, and instead of keeping my treasure locked away, I handed over my heart on a silver platter. All I received, in turn, was a shattered mess of blood and pain with a side of memories that once brought tears to my eyes from laughter, not from agonizing sorrow. But what did I expect? I'm just a runaway—those who drop everything they love and head off on their own selfish volition don't deserve happiness. All they get is what they fight for.

Vengeance, sorrow, loneliness.