A/N: Alrighty! Slow but steady wins the race—we're finally to the meat here of the story.

.

The first breathe of air was the single most excruciatingly painful moment of Ghaleon's life.

The second was even worse, and Ghaleon, too proud to choke or gasp in pain, let out a low chuckle instead.

Painful rebirth indeed.

Then again, Dyne had always had a hidden deviant side, so it didn't surprise him that Dyne had neglected to mention just how painful his rebirth was to be. Perhaps Ghaleon had had a stronger impact on his friend than he'd realized, for he most definitely would not have mentioned this amount of pain to Dyne, either.

At least his bastard of a friend had sent him to the one place Ghaleon knew would be unoccupied—the gardens of Vane.

Ghaleon felt his knees buckle under the weight of his own body and he barely managed to catch himself on a tree before his legs gave out from under him. He was instantly grateful Dyne had chosen to resurrect him in the travel clothes he'd once worn when he'd journeyed with Dyne, rather than his heavier formal magician's garb or the elaborate costumes he'd once worn during the more prominent moments of his life. Though his current attire was nowhere near as ornate as he'd once sported, this cloth was far lighter and more comfortable than anything else he could have worn.

Then again, what was a grand magician without his equally grand attire?

Perhaps Dyne was attempting to rebuke Ghaleon for his elaborate tastes.

In a moment of vanity, Ghaleon glanced about the garden until he spotted a familiar pool and glanced down. Part of him hoped his face would be whole once more, but another part of him feared Althena's magic would have healed the wound as a sop to his own ego and vanity.

To both his consternation and relief, the familiar chiseled rock was still there, and without thinking, one smooth hand moved to caress the enchanted surface. It was smoother than it had been before, feeling polished to the touch rather than rough, but the rock was still there, leaving Ghaleon feeling both whole and unwhole at the same time.

He was, after all, a broken man, so it was indeed fitting that he look the part.

He moved to lean against the entrance of the wall near the doorway of the garden, trying to summon his courage to leave. What would he say? Where should he go? What was he to do?

Dyne had, after all, hinted at the purpose of Ghaleon's re-resurrection, but Ghaleon himself had no idea how well he would be received by the very children he'd more or less "tried" to destroy. They had forgiven him at the end, he supposed, but that was when they believed his own death to be imminent. There was no telling what his reception would be now, particularly from Lucia, that fop dragon, or the spunky blonde.

He admitted it was the blonde's reaction that would be most telling in determining Ghaleon's new future.

He wished to undo what he had done, and to show the world the true glory of Vane as it had once been, but he had no idea if he was to be well-received in that regard due to his own past . . . and the reminder of his former behavior stung.

He had changed, but that did not mean others would see him thus.

The gardens that he'd once found so soothing no longer held the answers he craved, and so he walked towards the decrepit building that had once been the very highlight of Vane culture.

Without intending to, he began to pick up on the conversation taking place in what remained of the grand hall of Vane.

"—I've got to find her. Please, you've got to help me."

Ghaleon found himself shifting closer to the doorway. What was the boy talking about? He easily recognized the voice of the wannabe Dragonmaster, but the young, hapless fool spoke as if he lost someone, and surely he had not been so foolish as to lose the Princess of the Blue Star, not after Ghaleon's and Althena's own warnings to the contrary.

He heard the Junior Premier—what was her name again? ah, Lemina—sigh. "I had hoped to focus my efforts on Vane," she said after a moment, "but I suppose it's not going to happen right away. Besides, I'm the strongest magician out there! With my help, you'll get to Lucia in no time at all! Just don't forget to bring her back here when you do, to sign up as ranking members of the Guild!"

Ghaleon scoffed to himself. So the boy had managed to lose his princess. It seemed, in that regard, that the boy was as foolish as his predecessor Alex was.

And, as far as Ghaleon was concerned, as foolish as Dyne had been to fall in love with Althena.

It was foolish to love a deity, but it was even more foolish to give up on that love once you lost yourself to it. It blinded you to everything else.

And that, Ghaleon had no doubt, was the real reason Hiro had managed to lose Lucia.

"Thank you, Lemina!" the boy shouted happily. "I'm so glad you'll come with us!"

Well, that settled everything. Ghaleon had no desire to rebuild Vane with Lemina's mother—she was, after all, rather aged, and as Vile Tribe, Ghaleon would no doubt live far longer than she. He was still in his prime, resurrected or not.

No, if he was intent on rebuilding Vane, he wanted to start with her daughter. The girl was young enough that he should get quite a few years out of her yet before her humanity caught up with her, and by then he hoped to have built a legacy that her family would continue on, with or without him. Miria would no doubt die of old age before he reached that sort of rapport with her. To revive Vane at this point, he had to educate them on its past, on its grand history and culture, and he doubted Miria would be around enough for him to share so much of his own knowledge. There was the hint of disease around her, something he was sure the girl hadn't yet discovered . . . but was still faintly noticeable to his Vile Tribe senses.

Not to mention, of course, that he had no desire to regularly interact with the large landmass that floated around the Premier of Vane like a planet in orbit of the sun.

However, if he wished to start his project with the little Junior Premier, he would first have to gain her trust. No matter his previous actions before his more recent death, he had little doubt that he'd fully managed to win over the girl.

The boy's little quest couldn't have come at a better time. Though Ghaleon himself knew the simpler answer to the boy's problem, if he chose to accompany the boy on what would no doubt be quite the long journey, he'd have ample time to win over the girl before they returned back to Vane.

With that thought in mind, he made his way to the receiving room, taking no measures to quiet or shorten his gait. His mind was made up, and he would follow his own plan through no matter the costs—just as he'd done before, time and time again.

"If you wish to seek the Princess of the Blue Star, boy, you are going to need help," he said, enjoying the way a few of his companions noticeably jumped at his voice as they turned to eye him. "I am prepared to offer you assistance as you asked not long ago, for I do so live again."

"Is Zophar back?!" Lemina shrieked, clasping her hands on her face.

Ghaleon hid a sigh at her decibel. "No, girl. This was apparently Althena's own doing—centuries before your time." He refused to say more than that, not when he could feel Dyne's presence lurking not too far away. He had no desire to be on the end of his old friend's wrath, even if said friend had not set any parameters for Ghaleon's resurrection other than "to fulfill his purpose per Althena's own wish."

"A-are you sure, Ghaleon?" the boy replied before his little red companion could spit out the retort he saw burning in her eyes. "I mean, we're happy to have you, but if there's something you'd rather be doing—"

"I am quite sure, boy." He turned back to the doorway. "We're wasting valuable time."

"R-right. I guess we should get back to the others on the Destiny, then. Are you ready to go, Lemina?" the boy asked.

Lemina sniffed. "I've been ready. Let's go mega-toast some bad guy butt!"

Ghaleon sighed again, this time aloud, as he followed the two back to their ship. It seemed that even with his resurrections, he did not fully have the patience to deal with the dramatics of teenagers.

This journey, no doubt, would be the longest he'd yet endured in his long, long life.