Episode Three: Future

A/N: I'm sorry this has taken so long. There are a multitude of reasons for my stalling including the plot. Thankfully in my stalling I was approached by the wonderful Azurefeather and from that point onward my job got a lot easier. Thank you for your insight, your attention to detail, and your willingness to exchange lengthy messages with me. It was very encouraging and altogether inspiring! For the same reasons, I have not been able to complete this in three chapters, and so I promise you a fourth and final episode to follow shortly.

Concerning the chapters ahead: due to my fondness for ambiguous information, I've had to bend some of the rules to match my will. I do not assume that any of the following is entirely loyal to the canon provided, but that's sort of the whole point.

Still, I hope you enjoy the ride, and think longingly of what truths Lightning Returns might offer us in the near future…

ANOTHER GODDESS

? ? ? -Year Unknown-

Inside Valhalla's walls the boy director walks. In a place where past and future meet as one, the chaos of his heart stirs its ghosts.

Now, he comes.

New Valhalla 2ASF

Outside of Bhunivelze there is only dust.

Sprawling forestland, great capitals, secret oases, houses and homes- everything was gone. As if it had never existed in the first place. The transformation of New Valhalla has wiped the slate of history clean. The existence of Bhunivelze and her people themselves became another now common impossibility. The collective history continued to live through their fragile human memories, but under the duress of constant battle and uncertainty it was only a matter of time before their numbers would decrease and that too would fail.

The irony that their success hinged so much on quick action and accurate timing when time itself no longer existed was not lost on Hope. It was easy to spend his few restful hours awake and counting, but Hope understood his limits. His accuracy would slip, his analyses would slow; he would be no good to anyone if he pushed too hard. Camping out had its dangers but they were manageable. His guard only dropping momentarily as his perimeters were laid and he slept in short bursts.

Explosives were too risky to use should they draw attention from the chaos beasts. He would be outnumbered instantly. Instead he had to rely on primitive snares and a blade to silence their howls. It was a dirty job, one which Hope took no delight in; if truth could be told he felt the stain upon him creep deeper with each draw of the knife. It wasn't as though he was unused to battle, he'd kept a fair regime of training even when it was needless of him, but this was so much different to long-range combat. This was merciless: survival of the fittest- muscle over mind. He couldn't help but lament how much more suited he'd been to a life of research amongst scholars.

His small party had dwindled at a camp not so far behind him. The men that Noel insisted he take with him were easily convinced in taking up their new post there with the refugees they'd found. Families frightened and torn apart- he couldn't stand to leave them as they were now that he had seen it. It went against all principles. Now that he was alone however it meant that any progress was a struggle. What little guidance he had gleaned years ago from Lightning and gained from Noel before they'd parted was indispensable.

He cleaned his weapons dutifully. Light, he thought, holding the curved base of the folded blade loosely in his palm. Back when they were l'cie the knife had seemed so huge in his hands- so heavy with the promise of revenge. He sighed bitterly at the memory. In his adult grip the knife was small but no less deadly. It had found him for a third occasion, this time through Noel, and once more it reckoned great change. That change had led him back to Lightning in the past- a mere coincidence; the numbers were insubstantial. And yet he trusted that the coincidence would hold to be true.

Noel broke free of his nightmare in a cold sweat. The light of the crystal bathed him, resonating with the harried beating of his heart, but it did not succeed in banishing the ghosts that had visited him in dreaming.

Beautiful and unchanged Yeul- just a baby when he'd first held her; little better than a toddler himself. How many more Yeul's had there been that knew nothing of him but for his Yeul's visions? It grieved him to think of it.

And then there was Caius; mysterious Caius. Always present and yet indistinct in anything that lacked relation to the seeress. Noel hardly knew what he did with himself when he wasn't hovering over the young Yeul like a mother hen. Back then Noel had only wanted to free Yeul of his overbearing company, as though he were symbolic of her burden, but he'd been playing right into Caius's hands. To become a guardian and surpass him was to first trust in Caius, and that was something he would always regret.

Noel pushed his hair away from his face with both hands; a gesture that laid him bare and exposed every weakness. He only allowed for such moments here in the crystal chamber because those present to witness it would never take advantage of those that were vulnerable.

He tried to shake his dreams of the past back to where they belonged. That time was gone now; buried even further beneath the sands than his other experiences that were all but erased.

He looked to Serah, her stony expression unaffected. Mog seemed to breathe in his sleep but his fur hardly fluttered. He smiled in their direction, feeling old encouragement swell in their presence.

"Gotta keep it together, right?"

The sound of his lone voice however cheerful felt solemn in the closed space. And then—

Noel swivelled, unsheathing his blade until it extended to its full wicked length; the dagger coming free easily into his left hand and with deadly quickness.

"Show yourself." He growled deeply, immediately on knifepoint. Who had made it past his guards? Who had managed to disarm Hope's cleverly designed traps? Who dared enter upon this sanctity to lay waste to what he sought only to protect? And worst of all: who had managed to avoid his senses this far in?

He edged towards the darkness with silent footfalls, but before attack became necessary the assailant stepped into the light with arms raised; weapon-less, unguarded. No, not weapon-less per se but...

Noel's breath caught. His blades lowered.

"Whoa now, hey..." the perpetrator said lowly.

Noel blinked hard.

Was he still lost in the world of dreaming?

"Easy fella, I'm no enemy."

Offensive completely dropped, Noel focused instead on not letting the staggering weight of his new company show. He set his jaw and sheathed his weapon mechanically.

Before him stood the one and only, fist wielding, rift jumping, action-before-talk, Snow Villiers.

Hope felt the presence of the city before he saw it. Valhalla grew in the distance in great swoops and spires against the sky. The wild architecture both thrilled and repulsed him. This was a city built on distant shores, a city of gods made by unearthly powers that no sound human mind could have conceived.

He'd once thought that the Fal'cie were amongst the most fearsome powers to exist. Even his own prototype, Adam, had become something abhorrent. Serah's plea, which had crossed the logic of the timelines, had only narrowly managed to stop him from advancing the project. She had saved Academia from a future that would repeat the past.

And yet Hope still found it difficult to put the idea to rest entirely. He should remain diplomatic. Pulse Fal'cie lived so differently and there was so much more to Gran Pulse's history that they had yet to understand. Given more time and resource perhaps one day they might still achieve harmony and coexist once more, benefitting from each other as they had. With the truth at their fingertips it would be a small effort to remove any necessity of widespread and gratuitous death. The Fal'cie had the capacity to be as cruel as any human but they were sentient all the same. Peace could be kept.

Valhalla was different. In the same way a child dreads the call of thunder so did Hope dread the closing distance between him and the city. There could be no amount of understanding to produce harmony with such a place. The dark and stillness lingering in every parapet and broken staircase was of such a composition as to wipe out life entirely. They did not belong on the same plane. His beloved Bhunivelze and this undead city were like enemy castles but this was a battle that had long ago been decided. Valhalla's presence in their world would eradicate anything it could not absorb.

As the borders of the city edged closer and his dismay grew, new thoughts of Lightning surfaced. Had she truly lived here in this place? Bowed before an empty throne? And if she had, what might have become of her humanity? Unbidden visions of C'eith and stone shook him to the core.

Dust rose, scattering his vision, and Hope shielded his eyes as he walked. His heart ached with every step.

"You don't know how you got here?" Noel repeated edgily. It was only with great restraint that he kept himself from spitting the words back at Snow. The subject of the paradox instantly rose to his mind, begging inquiry, but he shook it away. It shouldn't be so. The timeline was effectively destroyed and in effect so were such results. In a sense their very reality was the paradox now.

Snow nodded dismissively, seeming to come to the same conclusion. "I wasn't allowed to travel the gates as conventionally as you did," He rubbed the back his neck, turning away. "The memory is always pretty fuzzy if I'm honest."

"Sounds familiar." Noel deadpanned, leaning inside the unadorned door frame of the room. The light of the crystal flickered behind Snow's outline.

A black-gloved hand that was heavy and huge reached out to touch the crystal that was Serah but froze mere inches away; hovering over the shape of her necklace as if caught by an invisible web. The hand became a fist that dropped to his side.

"Oh Serah, I never wanted to see you this way again."

Silence reigned, and Noel grit his teeth. Seeing Snow again stirred his emotions into a confusing storm. His lacking details aside, something in Snow's show of unashamed candidness left him feeling frustrated.

Snow hadn't been there at the end of the world, when the smoke from the sky had filled their eyes and the grief was raw like an open wound. She had been little more than a still-warm doll in his arms as they wept. He hadn't been there for her in so many years and he'd missed out on so many important battles. Now here he was the same as always; barrelling in from the fringes of any situation as if he'd never left— too little, too late.

And yet Noel knew that they all grieved, that his anger was misplaced. He could not admit to the sentiment that their sorrow was not equal when he knew so little of Snow. Any comparison was already impossible; the units of measurement too different. Serah would have taught him as much. Serah would have implored him for his sympathy.

"I'm sorry," he murmured desolately, unable to think of anything else.

Snow shifted soundlessly as if he hadn't heard him.

After a moment Noel decided to tread more cautiously, "You said 'again,' but this isn't like the l'cie... This is different, new— fresh." He joined Snow at the plinth and touched a crystal flower with all the carefulness of an antiques merchant in the presence of a priceless relic. "Hope thinks that this is probably their doing," he nodded to the other women frozen in time; the two who formed her cradle.

Snow stirred from his thoughts as though he had only just noticed their company. So thick was the ice-like rock that he'd surely missed their placid features. The outstretched arms that reached across Serah were the most telltale sign and yet as the crystal continued to expand their flesh resembled little more than elaborate vines to keep Serah were she was.

"Hope," Snow confirmed, forming the name slowly in his mouth, and Noel wondered briefly how long it had been since they last met. Snow paused to gaze at Fang and Vanille, and Serah again, searching the room and finding the discarded pile of toys that Dahj kept neat in a corner. "All back together again, huh?" He chuckled softly and without humour.

Noel didn't dare to argue the circumstances of each individual's imperfect attendance. "All except one."

A fist formed again. The stressed leather of Snow's gloves protested shrilly in the silence when that fist found the opposite palm to pound against it twice. It was a common gesture from Snow that even Noel could recognize as a sanction to act.

"Then I guess that's why I'm here,"

"And why is that?" Noel asked, dreading the answer.

Snow smiled, resolve in his voice where there had once been bewilderment. "Serah called for a hero."

With his suspicion fulfilled Noel hardly had the energy to appear surprised.

"There's no way it'd be that simple," he refused tiredly, but without any other suggestion the argument fell flat.

He sat on the arm of the modest square sofa that adorned the far side of the room and studied his feet. At that moment it seemed like every future that had ever been conceived still put him here in this room; immobile and powerless. The cushions squeaked under Snow's additional weight. Even on a raised level the man's impressive height still managed to match Noel's, and his arm draped around the slump of the younger man's shoulders.

"Hey," he said, "Some difficult stuff's happened here and I get that, but as I see it the time for questions is gone. We'll fight with the hand we were dealt."

Noel studied his feet and the crystal glittered. In his time with Hope they'd spoken of many things and Snow was no exception. Hope had been just as distrustful of Snow's sunny ignorance, but time had found that nothing could replace it. It seemed his disappearance had left many scars.

That nauseating sense of déjà vu seemed to ebb until the room swelled with relief.

Snow, who should've been so much angrier- crushing fists flying ever forward in a blind rage- waited patiently. He observed the ethereal beauty of his old friends and his fallen fiancé with a quiet grief backed by an enduring confidence.

All the time that Noel had spent wrestling with his sense of responsibility, his failure to protect Serah, Yeul, or Hope, or even Caius from himself- in an instant the clarity had dawned: he had locked himself in his own idleness. Their grim reality pulled him one way, while Snow's influence pulled him another.

"That's completely irresponsible," he chided plainly, and in return Snow laughed full of warmth.

"Sometimes that's just the way it goes."

Valhalla's gates had no guards. There were the usual darkened forms of the chaos beasts, dangerous and hungry, but worse than that was the impression of death. The air was heavy with it. Suffocating shadows of things that once were seemed to drift in and out of reality and unsettle the dust until the entire length of the city was trapped in the gloomy murk of neglect.

More than once Hope felt his gorge rise at the mistaken glimpse of a figure- a woman— a mother. He might have chased the shade if he hadn't known better. What existed here was little better than a fractured nightmare. It would prey on any weakness. He had to keep his emotion and his memories in check.

Though the catacombs of the city were broken but dense Noel had given Hope one final parting gift: his knowledge of Valhalla. Through their travels he and Serah had stumbled upon fragments of the city numerous times and there was always one recurring location- a throne. It was hidden deep within one of the compounds, fed light from an unknown source, and held in place by enormous shafts of the ice-like crystal. Now that Caius was gone Hope couldn't imagine there would be any other place where Light would secrete herself. In these streets devoid of life he'd take any lead he was given.

As he travelled deeper into the city the sounds of a shoreline met his ears. Before he'd even had the chance to realize it the noise of the gentle tide had pierced through the hum of the dark things that were stirring. His heart thrummed and his footsteps quickened until the elaborate stone and twisted metal of Valhalla's empty buildings gave way to endless beach. The black sand slipped softly under his boots and the dark water lapped easily in shallow patterns barely an inch deep. When the vast cloud cover shifted and broke intermittently streaks of moonlight would hit the shore in dappled patches, until the vision almost resembled something familiar. Like the night fallen on the beaches of New Bodhum, or the distant memory of Cocoon's artificially fed lakes. With the distant whisper of the shadows that ruled the streets and the consistent cover of darkness it was not beautiful, but it was something- something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Something bright lay spilled further on, like a handful of small colourful shells that glittered with an acute smoothness that had been perfected by the waves. His feet had begun to move again, towards the curiosity that might be swept upon these beaches, until unwittingly he stopped short.

What are you waiting for?

He gasped suddenly as if he'd forgotten how to breathe and shook his head. His fingers reflexively pressed against Airwing at his side and finally the shape of Lightning's knife inside his pocket. He determined that the shells somehow, would always look best from a distance. Resolutely, he turned away from the shore and swung back into the city, where the voices of the dead rang ever clearer.

Sazh Katzroy was a family man.

It was as plain to strangers as it was to his closest friends. It was in the way he moved, always mindful of little feet, and in every crease and wrinkle; there was an equal amount of lines for worry as there were for laughter. But most of all it was apparent in the way he fought. He avoided battle when he could- a young boy didn't deserve to see the remains of violence upon his father; dark blood and dried muck, human and monster alike. When circumstance was mean and there was no room for running he gathered his will that felt musty and tested by time. He would clasp holsters, check clips, straps upon straps of packed ammo and guns till he was armed to the teeth. Every bullet met its mark, and in older times every spell. Some pinged away ineffectually but there was always another to follow. Lock step, pirouette, inside turn, chassé- and bang! Showmanship, some might say; necessary rhythm he argued.

Each pull of the trigger was a safeguard for those he loved. Sazh loved deeply and with no remorse.

Hope had charged him with the safety of Dahj and the metropolis he lived in. It seemed strange to fight so desperately over a useless heap of dead machine and metal but there wasn't any other utopia left in this world. This was home, no matter how the sun refused to rise or set on it. Thankfully his troops seemed to feel the same. If hopelessness were to find it's foothold on the edges of their sanity this battle would be over. Without the technology they'd grown to rely on it was difficult to extend intelligence of their mission through the widespread factions, and it was in sight of that when Sazh prayed that their good will would hold.

Dahj was a ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak existence. Sazh was certain the boy was not blind enough to live on unaffected, and yet he never had to answer the really difficult questions. Dahj would play and smile when it was safe and hide without a word when he was told. It was the sacred and implicit contract between parent and child.

Noel was in the streets, deep inside the swarms of chaos' creatures. With one hand Sazh rubbed Dahj's head comfortingly while the other fed slugs into an empty cylinder with cat-quickness.

"Gonna be alright," he promised. It was a common mantra -one that hadn't yet proved to be untrue. "Get yourself to Serah, alright?"

Dahj nodded with all the firm composure of just another soldier and slipped into the shadows without fumbling. With a nod of his own one of Sazh's men dispatched to follow him. There would be other guards outside of Hope's complex; it was the safest place to be. The beasts still hadn't managed to infiltrate that far.

The cylinder span with a sharp whir then clicked into place, "Time to go!"

The party embarked in a cacophony of heavy booting on terraced ground. It wasn't long before they were in sight of the swarm and the dark figure that cut through their midst. Sazh rang one shot off over his head and emptied the rest of the barrel into the masses. The other gunmen followed suit and the foot soldiers ran in with swords glinting.

"Hey kid!" He hailed.

"-Sazh!" came the quick, breathless reply, and then, "Got a surprise for you!"

An impact and ensuing sound wave tore through the crowd, it ripped discord through the short dog-like beasts and flung their stunned bodies high. At their centre the shoulders of a sizeable man cloaked in a dusty brown came into view. He straightened and knuckles popped.

Sazh couldn't stop the grin that split across his face.

"Well I'll be."

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Snow called by way of greeting. In next to no time, the surviving dogs had scrambled back to their feet. They skirmished with the lesser-skilled men and gave the three of them a small berth. Bigger things with more teeth were already materializing from the darkness they had cleared. Sazh reloaded his guns.

"What time do you call this?!" bullets sang, punching creatures out of the sky.

"It's only a hunch but I'm going to say 'the Future?'" Snow slammed a fist into a foe moving to flank the gunmen and it landed to thrash spasmodically far behind them. Sazh had trouble containing his laughter.

"Still a smartass I see!"

"No time for reminiscing," Noel admonished, peeling back into the throng with his broadsword spinning. He threaded quick-fire attacks through the rising shadows in an attempt to disperse it.

Snow was bearing down on the smaller beasts. As the chaos materialized the creatures resembled the gorgon faces that once roamed the Steppe, revealing primordially dog-like temperament and muzzles full of teeth, but as their retaliation intensified some continued to develop. Before he had departed, Hope had kept faithful in logging their variations. They'd seen enemies that had gained the sinewy humanoid limbs of the c'eith, while others seemed to possess the keen yellow eyes of the lobo wolves and the sharp acumen of the daemon genus. The worst yet were the kind the sprouted wings and ascended to attack the earthbound humans from above. The perpetual night had already rendered their guns inefficient, and ammunition was growing sparse. It seemed that they were still in Lady Luck's favour when these episodes remained sporadic and few.

Noel detached himself from the bulk of the party, aiming to strike some of the larger beasts beyond their front line. A bullet went ringing off in the distance far to his left.

"-Whoa kid," Sazh shouted, throwing an arm and the signal out to his gunmen to redirect their aim. It was unlike Noel to stray into their firing zone; too many of their men were inexperienced. He shot a nearby gorgon and finished it off with a heavy kick to its torso; the bone collapsed inward and the creature fell to pieces, disintegrating into the darkness from whence it came.

Snow was shouting, and that was when he saw it- the shape looming over Noel's fearless silhouette.

Great arms spread wide in the dark, lifting a hulking body from the nothingness.

"-Noel! Look out!"

He'd leapt backward just in time. Heavy claws hewn from alien metal, far thicker than any blade present on the battle field, raked across solid asphalt as though it were sand. Deep scars ran vertical from where Noel landed before the claws flashed again, slicing the air and leaving him winded by the sheer expulsion of force. They rendered the lifeless shapes of nearby street lamps into unrecognizable mulch. Though the creature had no mouth, the jawbone still managed to open tight under mottled skin and release a chilling howl.

Sazh called out for him again, beckoning him back, and without looking Noel knew that Snow would be racing towards him. It was a matter of quick calculation. The claws were swift but the weighty body slowed the rest of its movement significantly. The stout legs clomped, and the thick waist hardly turned. He darted again, throwing his broadsword out like a shield, and slid fleet-footed between the giant's legs. The creature's hindquarters were not armoured. He thrust into the air.

Slamming the dagger home inside its sheath, he triggered the broadsword's transformation with a loose hold of the hilt and in an instant it extended; the wicked yet decorative weave of the blade folding upon itself until the entire weapon had changed. The sword-become-spear was now long enough to grip with both hands and using the momentum of his descent he drove it hard into the waiting backside of the beast. It howled again, this time in agony, and tried to buck him off but Noel stayed, the triangular blade embedded enough to grant him time to find a foothold. With another quick exchange of battle cries the victor was decided; the head of the behemoth-like beast rattling to the ground in a flurry of black dust.

Sazh's gunmen stood quiet, their firearms lowered and the cacophony of the other chaos beasts receding into the dead silence. One of the soldiers deigned to cheer but his gaiety was not met. Snow stayed his ground, his muscles taught and his guard up.

Noel's lance collapsed and separated, sword and dagger away in each hand and forming a defensive cross.

The silence swelled until something began to clap, hidden by the gloom. Footfalls, a shadow; the solemn clapping grew closer and the fog rose.

"I'm impressed," a velvety voice drawled; rich tones dripping with dark amusement, "it seems you've already outgrown these little trials..."

The noise ceased and the force of the fog seemed to drown everything out. The aim of the younger gunmen quaked nervously. In an instant their new company swept free of the shadow and drove at Noel. A weapon slammed against his but caught between the cross and Noel's rivalling strength. The clashing blade bent against his cruelly, forcing Noel's wrists to strain backwards and grating bright sparks into life. The sparks lit his assailant's features.

"Caius!" he breathed between clenched teeth.

Snow and Sazh edged closer but Noel barked for them to stand their ground. It wouldn't do to have their jumpy greenhorns waste precious ammunition. Caius's lips curled into a smile. He lifted the Bahamut sword and swung low at Noel's legs. The other guardian leapt backward, stumbled, and raised his broadsword again, just in time to catch another blow. Caius's eyes flickered strangely as the met again and again, exchanging strike for strike, the smile never changing.

"But how?" Noel managed finally; the words that tore from the back of his throat were rough with emotion, "Why?!"

Snow and Sazh refused to stay put any longer. They rushed forward with confusion barely concealed behind wilful expressions. Caius threw out a hand, flicking his wrist dramatically between turns. At his summon the chaos rose; coloured by dazzling sapphire lights as a flood of meonekton were released into the atmosphere in suffocating waves. Noel and Caius's standoff remained undisturbed as the beetles, small and large, scattered past them easily to surround his comrades, effectively blocking them from sight. He could only ignore the sound of distant gunfire and unembellished fist impacting flesh.

Noel put his strength behind his dagger, delivering a rapid yet unsuccessful attack that seemed to bounce off Caius' enormous blade. The eye rooted at its centre of the twisting black metal split open; ruby red and staring.

"These assaults on the city... Was it you all along?" he demanded; bearing down with everything he had. "After all that you've done?!"

The smile disappeared; eyes flashing darkly behind the arcing stroke of his sword. With a bright spray of sparks Noel was pushed back. He was unbalanced but quick to collect his defences. Caius however hadn't moved. The jewelled red Bahamut eye watched him unblinkingly.

It was infuriating. Even at the end of the world Noel could not succeed in surpassing his teacher. Even after his days of endless fighting- that torturous wait- every move, every trick, every attack was seen through and matched as if he'd given himself away in the mere act of breathing.

"We are enjoying our new world, Noel." Caius replied at length, all too gently, "A glorious haven of infinite possibility and freedom."

Noel felt something snap. He tightened his grip on his weapons until it hurt.

"This is how you enjoy your freedom? This is the world you were seeking?! This world is dead Caius! And I- you- did this!"

He leapt, turning his short sword in his palm until he was streamlined. He remembered the feeling of magic; raw energy that would course through his body and manifest at his will. But just like his memories when he'd first met Serah the method was jumbled and lost to him. Instead he had only instinct, and instinct drove his blade upwards in a hasty attempt to free Caius of his sword arm.

The manoeuvre was late.

Caius turned, throwing him aside as the huge weapon glanced across Noel's vision, shattering it in an explosion of red. Hot blood coursed down the side of his face from a graze at his temple that was seemingly affectionate for all the damage it could have done. He landed upright but scraping through the dust. He wiped his eye clear with the back of one hand, glaring.

The older man cast him a glance that was akin to pity, or something deeper buried like regret, "You still refuse to see past your own reality. Not even now that you are unbound by the rules and circumstance that have chained you."

Noel roared and charged towards him. He bounced off harmlessly but struck again. Each swing clattered off of Caius's formidable guard but forced him to step back all the same.

"What do you know about my reality?! My whole life has been a battle against time!"

"-The time that took Yeul," he lunged.

"The time that became twisted," he feinted.

"The time that took everyone!" He heaved and slashed and the Bahamut sword went spinning. Their deadlock had become a reproduction of the very same moment back in Valhalla: dagger to heart and heart to dagger. Noel's breath rattled heavily in his chest while Caius was still.

"You might have been blessed and cursed with your role as guardian but I only have this one life and I'm going to fight for it!"

Caius's lips curled into the cavalier smile again.

"Predictable Noel," he hummed, "then I have some parting words that should be of use to you."

The distant volley of bullets in the cacophony of battle became clearer. The meonekton swarmed at their feet while the fog lifted. Caius drew closer and closer until the tip of the dagger disappeared inside his chest.

Noel grunted, and tried to pull away, the fierce desire to escape abruptly gripping his ribcage like a tightening vice. But Caius held him still, the entry wound where the blade should have drawn blood merely seeped with dusky particles and smoke. He stepped closer again until the hilt touched his chest plate. The sickening similitude to the memory he wished to keep buried made Noel's stomach turn.

Caius' whisper was disgustingly kind, "Yeul is in Valhalla. She's waiting for your goddess to awaken."

Noel froze. The mere mention of Yeul alive again made his blood run cold. And here was Caius, her sole protector, seeming to relish in that truth. There were simply too many unanswered questions and one terrible revelation. Caius held the trump card.

"You're friend will not reach her in time."

The body of ancient Bahamut and man dissipated in a cloud of dust, releasing its gruesome hold on the dagger as bullets rained from the sky.

Noel dropped to his knees.

"So this Yeul person is after Light?" Snow surmised. He was tearing bread between his fingers and taking small disinterested bites, as though the process of eating was more a necessity than a pleasure.

"I don't know," Noel confessed.

Sazh muttered something about being old under his breath while passing Dahj a bowl colourful cubes that at once resembled fresh diced fruit but were far less rare- most likely a processed treat. After he'd ruffled his son's bushy head of hair and sent him on his way, he crossed his arms; turning business-like. "Judging by whats'is-face though, chances point to yes."

"Caius," Noel interjected swiftly.

"Doesn't matter," Sazh cast him a weary smile. His eyebrows were furrowed with sad irony.

Snow picked up the hint, "We have to stop them- both of them."

"Hope's already in Valhalla," the silence descended as Noel spoke, "I'm sure he can handle Yeul for a while- at least buy us enough time to form a plan."

"And our plan would be…"

Sazh wrapped his hand around his chin and stroked, while Snow crossed his arms without any real sense of thoughtfulness. Noel clenched his jaw until the stiffness in his face began to ache.

"Don't everyone speak up at once now," a new voice chided. The tone while alluring held great command and in an instant every head snapped up to meet it. The doorway to the crystal room shadowed two figures, one tall and muscular, and the other slimmer and more shapely.

Sazh looked like his eyes were about to drop out of his skull. "Damn you all to hell, I can't handle this many surprises in one day!" In a rush of air Snow had left Noel's side and scooped both of the women into a crushing bear hug that nearly lifted them off their feet. The shorter one had a giggle that tinkled like a bell.

"-How is this possible!"

"Snow, you're hurting me!"

"-Whoa there big guy."

Noel had already suspected who the women were. He'd spent enough time at their sides that he would know them almost anywhere, even if he hadn't once glimpsed at the old prophecies- Yun Fang and Dia Vanille of Ancient Oerba. But while their appearance reckoned importance his feet were already moving. He was breathing heavily by the time he reached the crystal- or what was left of it.

Dust, bright and sparkling, pooled throughout the room. The crystal flowers that had once hung from every crook had all but vanished. Dahj's toys were covered in a fine layer that glittered like morning dew. For one terrifying moment Noel's heart had refused to beat until he'd spun on his heel to see her lain delicately upon the sofa, her hair tumbling over the edge in a soft roll.

Dia Vanille came to his side first, a light hand on his arm.

"It's okay. She's still sleeping."

Though they'd never formally met the hand was carefully affectionate. He checked her eyes but there was only compassion. He looked back to Serah but she hadn't fluttered so much as an eyelash.

"Sleeping," he affirmed like a prayer.

Yun Fang stood beside Snow, whose fists once again hung limply at his sides. "When you're ready you should probably sit down.

-Serah left us with a message."

Hope was not alone.

The rough edge of a crumbling battlement bit into his thigh as he stumbled. Myriad walkways were built and broken to fortify such a stronghold, and thick cloud concealed the true path. Every turn he took deeper into the city drove another splinter into his sense of direction until finally he was lost, open to the voices as the panic widened.

-Hope Estheim

Lightning's blade in his pocket offered little solace. He'd grit his teeth so hard for so long that his jaw had begun to ache, and the pressure behind his eyes had the makings of a formidable migraine. His vision swam without warning, his head turning fuzzy. His ears were full of sound, the voices calling for him together in a cacophony that spilled boiling and hissing from behind the lid of his barely contained rationality.

HopeHopeHopeHopeEsthiem

To make matters worse there was one voice that was clearer than the rest.

"- Oh Hope, my Hope," it whispered. Close enough to his back to cause him to turn abruptly. His heel rolled over a loose stone and he fell backward, hard into a patch of roughened dead weed. The affectionate voice had no visible form except a thickening murkiness to the cloud and yet he swore he could see…

Cool jade eyes so much like his own, feathered hair that framed gently sloping cheekbones, and that hint of a dimple that only became visible went she really smiled.

"Come here, Hope," she sighed longingly.

Hope's breath hitched, and tears stung at his eyes. Valhalla closed in around him and the figure until the rest of the world was an oppressing blur. All of his words seemed to be stolen, and his voice was sealed. Instead he reached for her in supplication.

Mother…

The creature shifted, shimmering until the glamour dropped, dark eye sockets grew like blots of paint on fresh paper and a mouth tore open wailing.

Hope felt a cry pulled from him as a pale hand crept into his vision. It split the mother-creature in two as it commanded his focus with its whiteness. The voices died down, forced back into the recesses of the fog.

On the end of the hand was a girl.

"Hope Estheim," she addressed him, rending him momentarily stunned by return of silence and the softness of her voice. He found he could speak again and the headache behind his eyes had eased.

"Yes?" he answered tentatively, feeling desperately as though he should know her.

Her dark eyes flashed as she bent her hand closer toward him and bade him to take it.

"I've come to lead you to Lightning."

FINUS (?)