The sun came up after a night of fitful sleep in shifts. Melody had fended off two more of those wolf-creatures called Mi'ihen Fangs. Shortly after the sun had risen, Seymour saw her scribbling in her book again. She had tried to go back to sleep earlier, but it had taken her a long time. It seemed as if she'd just drifted off when it was her turn to keep watch. She didn't complain, however, and had wandered over to the fire to warm up, bleary-eyed and messy-haired. The Mi'ihen Fangs were looking for an easy meal, but they'd found out she was more trouble than she was worth. She'd began an index of sorts in her book on the page after Seymour's spell diagrams, hoping that she would eventually remember all the different ways to get rid of fiends quickly. Her sword, she lamented, had gotten far more use than she'd hoped. After a quick breakfast-while-packing-up and putting out their fire, they were on the road again soon. Much to Seymour's chagrin, they were forced to cross Mushroom Rock.

"What happened here? It's so…dark…feeling," Melody asked. Seymour stared out across the waters. Very much like that day, a storm looked like it was about to blow in. Pyreflies glinted around him, seeming to be drawn to their presences. A few people that were further out on the beach were lighting some candles and discussing something.

"Something very bad," he replied truthfully, "a lot of lives were lost here once. I see they've built a memorial for them."

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Melody nodded.

"I can go ask them, then!"

She started towards the people, but Seymour held her back by her shoulder.

"It is best if no one knows we're here," he warned, "I am too recognizable. And you…well, if you were to be seen with me, your life would be in danger as well. This Father of yours may protect you, but that's no excuse to be reckless."

"You're right," she sighed, "Seymour, you need a makeover."

Seymour's eyes narrowed at the word. It disgusted him and made him think of a bunch of teenage girls plastering makeup on each other's faces and trying on clothes that looked ridiculous. Stepping behind a group of rocks that shielded them from the view of others, Melody studied him carefully.

"The robes will have to go, probably," she said, hands on her hips, "and that spiky hair for sure. We can trim your nails, but we won't be able to do much with your face-veins. About all I can suggest there is a hood or a cloak that casts shadow on your face. I really hate to do that since your coloring is so unique, but I'd hate to see you get killed more."

He grudgingly had to admit that she was probably right.

"Let's just get out of here first," she said, "I've got nothing to work with right now."

The beach was full of stuff people had left behind carelessly, though. She managed to find a pocket knife, a sheet, and a couple of random potions. While Seymour was forced to stay in hiding during her search, he peered around the rocks to see something that startled him: machina. There were machines everywhere. There were boats jetting through the water and hovercrafts zooming into the clouds overhead. There were people talking and laughing and hanging out on the beach with things they wanted to add to the unofficial memorial. He didn't see a single Chocobo in sight.

Melody returned after a while, her arms full of things. She hadn't taken anything that looked new or that was near anyone's camp, but things that were being tossed about in the waves or were half-buried in sand were fair game to her.

"So…I heard something very interesting just a minute ago," she said, laying the things out on one of the rocks, "they were saying this was the second anniversary of Operation Mi'ihen."

Seymour stared at her uncomprehendingly.

"What?"

"Se-con-d Aan-iv-er-sa-ry," Melody enunciated, though she looked very troubled, "we were gone much longer than we thought…"

Seymour's heart felt as if it had stopped, then it began to race and pound, causing his blood pressure to spike. The darkening of his face veins made his face look all the more pale.

"Um…why don't you sit down? You don't look so good…"

"Two years," he choked out, "I've been gone for two years?"

"Yeah…"

"I thought you said it only took a few months!"

Melody sighed.

"I thought it did," she admitted, "but time passes differently for me. You have to understand that I have no way of knowing in that form—no hunger, no sleep, no reason to pause, no markers at all for time. You've been an Unsent after all…"

He opened his mouth to argue with her, but snapped it shut again. True, he had not needed much as an Unsent. But he'd always been able to tell how much time had passed by simply watching other people and the lightness and darkness of day and night. In the Via Infinito, time was meaningless—no one slept or ate (except perhaps those savage fiends that had feasted on his pseudo-body) and there was no natural light. She'd had nothing to go on and time really did seem to pass differently for the dead. Sighing, he placed his head in his hands. Melody tried to comfort him by hugging him, but he pushed her away. He didn't want to be touched right now.

"I guess you need a minute, huh?"

She sat down and began organizing her "treasure finds". Once Seymour stopped reacting to her as she approached him, she went to work on trying to alter his appearance a bit. The first thing she did was give him a haircut. It pained her to cut through the long horn-like spikes because they were just always what she'd associated with him. Though she did her best to smooth down what was left, his hair still insisted on sticking straight out though it was now the same length as the rest of it. She smoothed it down as best as she could, then shortened his signature bang a bit and smoothed it over his forehead. It wasn't long before the bangs twined back together—Guado hair was strange like that. She tried again, hoping it would hide the veins on his forehead but it wouldn't stay. At least they were partially obscured…she then fashioned a cloak out of the sheet. For such a tall man, it would be woefully short and probably a little silly-looking, but at least it would help conceal Seymour's face. She arranged it every-which-way before she got a satisfactory result and pinned it in place.

"Well…that's about the best I can do for now," she remarked, "at least I can't see your face very well. Other people won't be able to, either. Just make sure you face away from the wind. Oh, and one more thing…"

Grabbing the sides of his robes, she tugged them shut so that his chest was no longer showing and pinned them closed at the base of the neck. The tattoos, she reasoned, would definitely stick out to anyone who had known Seymour well. Two years wasn't enough to forget all these little details. Despite his discomfort, Seymour endured the changes and the resulting heat that came with them. These robes were far too heavy to wear closed all the time, but it was that or be killed. He glanced back at the piles of hair that they'd left behind and Melody quickly nudged some sand over them with her foot. They walked right past all the tourists there and only got stopped once.

"Hey, you know that's a really good replica," a teenage boy remarked, "those look just like the Maester robes that Seymour used to wear! Farplane only knows why anyone would wanna look like that guy, but who am I to judge?"

He laughed a little and his alcohol-fumed breath told Melody how exactly they escaped being in serious trouble. She smiled politely and they quickened their pace.

"That was close," Melody sighed when they were in the clear again, "we're gonna have to find you some new clothes."

"I'm afraid you're in for quite the chore then," Seymour said, "I had to have these custom-tailored due to my size."

Melody's gaze panned from the top of his now-hooded head to his feet.

"Yeah, I know. I have to tilt my head back or else I end up talking to your stomach," she laughed, "were either of your parents this big?"

"Not that I know of. Unless we want to wait around and risk being found out, we will have to make our way to my home," Seymour said, "and even then, we're not guaranteed that any of my things will still be there."

"At least you'll be safe then," Melody said, "I hope…it'll be good to get away from all these fiends. And this dark energy…"

She closed her eyes and shuddered.

"I see people in a lot of pain plowing into the ocean on those big bird things…and getting swept away into nothing…"

Her eyes seemed to glaze over and her face went gray.

"What's the matter with you! We have to go! NOW!" Seymour hissed.

"It's….it's…."

He seized her arm and dragged her away from the beach. The Pyreflies danced ominously close, chasing her. Seymour could tell the way her mouth was opening that she was going to scream. He clamped one hand over her mouth and dragged her back into the woods. Once they were in the relative safety of the clump of trees, Melody seemed to be coming around again and the vibrations against Seymour's hand ceased. He'd have been furious with her if he hadn't seen where she'd been staring. She was shaking violently, but her eyes cleared.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Nothing but a shadow of the past now," he said quietly, "there's no point in screaming at something that isn't there."

"But what was that?" she insisted, "I saw you there…I felt you there. And that thing…"

"I don't want to talk about it," he insisted, "and I don't want you bringing that up again. If anymore of those damned Pyreflies come up to you, you force them to leave, understood? We're getting out of here right this minute and I don't care how many fiends I have to go through to get off this damn beach!"

Melody winced at the sharpness in his voice.

"Okay," she whimpered, sounding like a little girl, "…right behind you."

Something whizzed past overhead, loud and close enough to ruffle their hair. Seymour glanced up, annoyed. More flying machines…he wondered what else in Spira had gone to Hell while he'd been dead. He glanced sideways at his traveling companion. Her shoulders were slumped and she was looking at the ground more than anything else. Her hand gripped the hilt of her sword so hard that her knuckles were turning white. She had a strange weary, older-than-she-looked sort of vibe coming from her. Whatever she'd seen and experienced took a lot of out of her back at Mushroom Rock. He remembered that her short, chubby little legs couldn't possibly keep up with his enormous strides and slowed his pace to match hers. She'd be no good at fighting if she was tired—and it was hard for her as it was. A moment later, when some of the numerous fiends cornered them, she didn't even so much as gasp. It took her a great deal of effort to arc the sword at one of the annoying lizards who tried to scratch her and give her the Stone curse. It still managed to rip a gash in her leg and she dropped to one knee, using her sword for support.

"Stay there!" he told her, casting Protect, "Stop the bleeding!"

He wiped a Thunder Flan into oblivion with a massive tidal wave and fried another one of those annoying lizards with a blast of fire. The spells were a bit beyond his capacity and he felt rather drained when it was all over with. He breathed a sigh of relief when nothing else came into the fray. Everything was quiet now again. Melody had retrieved a potion bottle from the first-aid box, but she was having trouble getting the top off. He took it impatiently, twisted the cork out, and put it back in her hand. She seemed to have trouble swallowing and had to take tiny sips to get it all down. Fortunately, the scratch wasn't all that deep, it was just one that bled a lot. The cut sealed up after a few minutes.

"Can you get up now?"

She tested her leg. It didn't hurt. Her breath had slowed, so she didn't appear to be in any pain. But he couldn't help but think there was something wrong with her.

"Do we need to stop?" he finally asked despite his earlier impatience.

"No," came the quiet reply, "I'm better now."

She shouldered her pack once more and took a couple of steps before glancing back at him. Seymour hoped she wasn't lying to him. The sun had dipped downward, making the sky turn a pleasant orange.

"We'll be in Djose shortly," he informed her, "we will rest there tonight."

"Okay."

He tried to keep his head down in the fading light, but it was hard not to stare. There were far more people here now than there used to be. Some of them bore crests that vaguely resembled his chest tattoos on the sides with a periwinkle circular center. A black outline around that gave the impression of a horned flower. Others had hearts with each of the curves containing an empty circle. Puzzled, he tried to figure out what these things were and what they meant. Melody apparently didn't know either, for she tugged on his sleeve and whispered, "What's with the hearts and the weird flowers?"
"I don't know," he admitted, "I've never seen these crests before."

They somehow managed to get past everyone without bumping into anyone and stayed in the shadows. Everyone here had traveler's packs and they heard "Youth League", "Leblanc Syndicates", and "New Yevonites".

"They're saying something about 'sphere-hunting'," Melody whispered, "why's that? How do you hunt spheres?"

He shrugged. They were in a decently-sized throng of people, so it wasn't really safe to talk out loud. They managed to make it into the town where there were even more people. Seymour tugged the hood of his homemade cloak down a little more. He still had his fingers gripping the material when the breath froze in his lungs.

A very familiar face had just appeared in the crowd. If one had been observing Seymour closely in that moment, they would have actually seen his pupils dilate and the bluish veins on his face darken, the Guado equivalent of a flush. His heart began to thunder and sweat popped out on his palms. He watched as probably the most beautiful girl—no, woman now—in the whole of Spira tossed her dark brown hair back as she laughed. There was more color in her cheeks now, and the outfit she wore was quite revealing. Gone were the days of the downcast eyes, the solemn pursed mouth, the flowing white and purple dresses, and the firm but humble resolve. She still had a soft, quiet voice, but she spoke more boldly. He recognized the even more scantily dressed woman beside her as Rikku, the Al-Bhed brat that had probably relieved him of more valuables during battle than he cared to admit. He didn't really recognize anyone else with them. The tough-looking woman dressed all in black with the short hair certainly looked like a force to be reckoned with, though.

Melody followed his gaze to them.

"Someone you recognize," she said, not exactly asking. A small incline of his head was her answer. She saw the laughing woman and remembered her from some of Seymour's more intense fever dreams.

"Yuna," he breathed her name like a prayer, "she lives…and yet, where is that blonde whelp that claimed to be her guardian? Why is he not at her side?"

Tidus had been one of his greatest annoyances ever. The bratty spiky-haired youth had antagonized him from the very beginning and they had both taken an instant dislike to each other from moment one. Tidus had once told him right as they were squaring off to fight that he talked too much—Seymour would always remember him as "that stupid kid that never shut up". He'd heard hardly anyone else but Tidus talking. And yet Yuna had been very fond of him—Yevon only knew why. But he was nowhere to be seen. Seymour couldn't even smell him. Odd…

"Blonde? Now that you mention it…"

He turned to look at Melody.

"Well?" he pressed.

"I saw a blonde kid around seventeen enter the gates," Melody informed him, "he was around that one's age…did he have funny clothes on, like sides that didn't match?"

"That's the one," Seymour grumbled, "so it's true, then? He's dead?"

"As far as I know," Melody confirmed, "I don't remember much about home right now, but I do remember him. I'm the one who let him in."

"You might have made a mistake then," Seymour half-joked, "you'll have to listen to his irritating voice all day. He's worse than some of the fiends we've fought."

Melody giggled.

"And being jealous has nothing to do with how much you seem to hate this guy?"

"Not in the least," he answered truthfully, "I was far too busy to feel such petty emotions."

"If you say so…is that the inn over there?"

"Yes, that's it. Let's go before she sees me."

Melody could see the beads of sweat collecting on what little skin was still exposed.

"Let me do the talking," she told him, "your voice is very…distinctive."

She grabbed Seymour's hand and sauntered up to the man behind the counter.

"One room, please," she said cheerfully, "for us happy newlyweds."

Seymour rolled his eyes. Really? That was the best she could come up with?

The man grinned and said something flirtatious in the Al-Bhed language. Melody pinked in the cheeks and took the key.

"Come on, Sweetness!" she dragged Seymour along behind her.

"Good luck," the guy said with a wink. Seymour tried not to let his utter disgust show and reminded himself to give Melody a good zap later.

"Newlyweds? That's our story?" he asked irritably, letting his pack thud noisily in the floor.

"It was all I could think of," Melody protested, "you have to give me a little bit of a break. I'm new at this."

She kicked her shoes off. First one, then the other, thunked noisily against the wall. Then, her eyes fell on the bed.

"Ooh…." She sprinted over to it and pressed into the mattress with her palms. Then, she climbed up on it and started to jump.

"You really should stop that," he scolded, "you're going to get hurt!"

"NEVER! It's like jumping on a cloud!" Melody squealed and laughed like a little girl. Every time she landed, the headboard would thump against the wall.

"Enough," Seymour growled, snatching her off the bed and putting her in the floor.

"Ah, you're no fun," Melody griped before settling into the cushiony chair. Unknown to either one of them, the desk-guy and a few of the employees were standing there with their ears pressed to the door. Upon realizing that they weren't going to hear anything else amusing, they all left. She yawned and lay her head against the arm of it. The way she was situated, one arm was behind her head and her body was scrunched into a fetal position. The other arm was under her knees. Her torn and bloodied skirt fanned out around her, a tragic silver stained with red though none of the wounds remained now. Seymour glanced from her to the bed then back again.

"Are you sure you want to sleep there?" he asked.

"Of course. I'm not as big as you are," Melody said, "you probably take up the whole thing, right?"

He started to argue that it wouldn't be the whole thing, but then his mouth clamped shut. If she was willing to let him have the bed, why not take her up on it? He could let her have the next one. Besides, it would be too awkward…he knew for a fact he rolled a lot in his sleep, what if he squashed her? Or worse? He could feel his facial veins darkening, the Guado equivalent of a blush, but she was already closing her eyes and didn't see. He took off his makeshift cloak and lay it over the footboard of the bed. He blew out the candle and started to lie down, but sat back up after a second. Then, he carried the blanket over to the chair and spread it over Melody. She mumbled something unintelligible and clutched it closer to her. His conscience slightly eased, he finally collapsed on the bed. It was so good to sleep on a surface that wasn't hard. He could almost fool himself that he was back in Guadosalam where he belonged, back in the comfortable manor with limitless food and pleasantly cool, beautifully colored spaces.

When he awoke, Melody was nowhere in sight. Scribbled on the back of some flier was a note in her round, loopy, child-like writing left in his hand: "Went for breakfast. Stay here please—be back soon!" The exclamation point was dotted with a big smiley face. Seymour sighed. He sincerely hoped that she wouldn't get into any trouble. Not really knowing one's way around could cause some problems. Then there was that whole issue of just being different…his deepest fear, of course, was that she would reveal his identity. But surely she wouldn't save him just to get people after him?

The hardest thing, he knew, was for him to trust people. The few times he'd managed it over the course of his twenty-eight years had not worked out so well. It was probably better not to fret about it, so he stripped off his Summoner's robes and ran a bath. He had the disconcerting suspicion that Melody had probably bathed him back at the temple, at least during his time of being unconscious. He couldn't remember a time since and he was very overdue. Sliding into the hot water, he submerged his head, soaking his now shortened hair. It was strange not to have the huge horn-like locks or the large clump of bang—he felt oddly lightheaded now that they were gone. She had left the rest of his hair alone, but it still seemed foreign to him. He kept having to resist the urge to run his fingers through it. One by one, he examined his scars as he scrubbed. Many of them were faint enough that no one would notice. Others had turned into soft pale pink lines. Even by a Guado's standards, he had healed quickly. There were only faint markings where the beasts had torn into him. His skin had tanned quite a bit as well. He'd lost a great deal of weight, but it would come back in time. As he was toweling off, he wondered if Yuna was still in the city or not. He was so absorbed in thought that he didn't hear the door open. Thinking he'd be alone for a bit longer, he'd forgotten to close the bathroom door.

"Seymour, guess what?! They have COFFEE! Oh my goodness, I never thought I'd see it again! It was so good that I had three cups and that nice lady gave it to me for free and she said you could have one and you've got to try one of these pastry things—"

She was talking so fast he could barely keep up with her. Her cheeks were flushed, probably from the excessive amount of caffeine she'd drank, and her arm was full of pastry boxes. Little flecks of frosting and glaze still clung to the corners of her mouth. He barely had a chance to wrap the towel around his waist before she saw him. The odd thing was that she didn't really appear to notice his state of undress at all.

"—and I found you some new clothes! It was a booger trying to find your size, I mean, how many seven-foot tall guys are there in this world? But I'm sure they'll fit, I measured you while you were still asleep so you wouldn't squirm and—"

It was safe to say that he was getting tired again just listening to her.

"—and there's going to be a concert today! We have to see that before we go! I love music!"

She finally ran out of air and sucked in a deep breath. The towel was starting to slip dangerously, so he held it up with one hand.

"Melody, where are the clothes?" he asked, trying not to let her see his obvious discomfort. As tall as he was, that towel just didn't cover enough for comfort.

"Here you go!" Melody said, bringing him the box, "I hope you like green!"

Seymour took the box and stepped back into the bathroom. He closed the door and let out a big sigh of relief. That had been a close one! He lifted the lid from the box and inspected the contents. In keeping with the whole "anonymous traveler" theme, she'd brought him robes that were a deep forest-green color with lighter designs of twining leaves in a more minty color as an accent. The sash was a plain black one and the pants that went underneath were black as well. She'd also brought him a hooded cloak that was a deep plum color. This one at least didn't look like a beggar had owned it. But surely they'd have cost a lot more money than they had—and then there was all that food. Wondering how she managed it, he slung the cloak over his shoulder since he didn't need to wear it in here, he went out to ask.

Melody was already tearing through the pastries. She looked like a little kid with smears of jelly filling all over her hands and face. It took her a second to realize he was standing there. Dabbing at her face with a napkin, she said, "Wow…that's a nice color for you. Bet it reminds you of home, huh?"

"Not exactly," he told her, "our trees were blue. But thank you."

"You're welcome."

Once the scent of cherries hit his nose, he realized he was ravenously hungry, then wondered why. Sure, a huge man like him needed more, but why did he suddenly want to eat all the time? Melody handed him one of the other boxes. For a while, they did nothing but stuff their faces. When at last all the pastries were washed down with the coffee (which she obviously didn't need any more of), Seymour finally got the spine to ask her how she'd come by so much.

"I found it," was her answer with a shrug, "people were giving out a bunch of free stuff today for some special thing—didn't catch what it was—so I just added a little more to it. And the clothes, well, that's a funny story all by itself. The shopkeeper looked over all the measurements I wrote down in my book and said some really big guy came through there the other day. He was going to have all his stuff custom-made and then he just…well, no one heard from him again. He didn't charge me much at all for them. And this thing….he took one look at my clothes and just let me have them."

She was wearing a dark blue dress, almost black, decorated with silver flowers.

"You have an enormous amount of luck," Seymour commented, still disbelieving.

"Luck's got nothing to do with it," came the smug reply, "so…now what do we do? The concert isn't for another hour."

They locked the room, deciding to come back for their things later. They had just entered the inn's common room when Seymour froze in his tracks. Right there, not but five or six feet away, was Yuna and her Al-Bhed friend and that other short-haired looking friend. They were all chatting away animatedly. Today, Yuna had on a different outfit that was mostly blue. She looked up and Seymour's breath caught.

"Oh, look, Sweetness! It's that famous singer!" Melody said, playing the part of an excited wife strangely well. She dragged him over, which Seymour resisted as best as he could, but she was surprisingly strong for such a short, dumpy woman.

"See, Yunie? Everybody's heard of you now," Rikku said, "they all love your music!"

She turned to look at Melody and Seymour.

"And she thinks she's not very good!" She stage-whispered. Melody grinned.

"Most people who can sing are like that—small world, though. I used to be in my father's choir until I got married."

She was still holding Seymour's arm and hugged it affectionately.

"Aren't they cute?" Rikku cooed, "So, what are your names?"

"I'm Melody and this is Se—Simon," she said, "we just got into town yesterday. Boy was that a long trip!"

"I'm with you there—those airships get boring after a while."

Melody's grip tightened a little and he felt her palm start to sweat.

"Uh, yeah…I forgot to bring a book to read. Plus I get a little airsick…glad we don't have to go on one for a while."

"What about you, Simon? How'd you convince her to get on the airship?"

Melody suddenly regretted that third cup of coffee and that sixth tart.

"Oh, uh…Simon can't speak. During that big war two years ago, he lost his voice when a fiend tried to rip his throat out."

"Ah, the perfect husband, then," Paine joked darkly.

Seymour would have glared at her, but he was trying to keep his eyes in shadow so they wouldn't see the color.

"He is," Melody said affectionately, "but that's not why. Traveling through dangerous areas when it's just the two of you…you learn who you can really count on that way."

The syrupy tone that her voice had taken on would have gagged Seymour if he hadn't noticed the moisture in Yuna's eyes. What was that all about? Had something happened to that little blonde brat?

"That's very true," Yuna said quietly, "well, I'm very happy for you both. Will you be at the concert?"

"You know it! I love music!" Melody exclaimed, "I sort of miss the days where all I had to do was sing all day!"

"Keep an eye on the sphere," Rikku said, "you never know when we're going to need another one. Our last backup singer ran off with one of Leblanc's goons and we haven't heard from her since! She was a pain to replace."

She glanced up at the clock.

"Oh! Is that really the time! Sorry to rush off, but we really should be going to get ready! Nice meeting you!"

The three girls sprinted out of the inn. Seymour let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Must you really turn me into a mute?!" he demanded.

"I'm sorry, I panicked! It's just that your voice is…well, it's very melodic," Melody sighed, "and I'd never forget a voice like that, so I'm assuming your friends there wouldn't either. I just didn't want everything to go to heck in a handbasket, okay?"

He didn't answer, instead staring at the plate that Yuna had been eating off of. Only a few crumbs remained, the fork laying across a crumpled napkin. It was very much like the relationship they'd had—here one second, gone the next. Damn that Tidus….

"Are you okay? That must've been kind of hard to—"

"Leave it," was the terse reply, so she left it. They went outside to find a place to sit before things got too crowded. He really didn't want to stay. He wanted to just keep moving, but Melody had already said they'd attend. She had asked for nothing, so he grudgingly gave in to this one thing for her. He reasoned that she would get sullen and might even refuse to stay with him if he tried her patience too much. Everyone had a limit after all. They found a nice patch of grass and Melody busily began to make flower chains. Before long, she had a flower crown, two flower bracelets, a flower necklace, and a flower belt. The bright yellow contrasted sharply with the dark blue of her hair and the dark blue of her dress. He had to admit that they did become her.

The concert opened and Yuna and the others did a series of very up-tempo songs meant to make everyone dance. Seymour could dance, but not like that—he usually only took part in Summoner's dances. Melody didn't notice that he was standing as still and rigid as a rock—she was all over the place though she clearly lacked the skill. Where the problem began was when a slow song started. All around them, people started pairing off.

"What's the matter? Shy? If I had a wife that pretty, I'd dance with her, you know what I mean?" some guy hissed at him. Seymour wanted to turn around and send a bolt of lightning up his nose, but he could only clench his fists. Just how many people knew about the "adorable newlyweds" anyway? Melody seemed to be oblivious to the strange looks and was swaying in place, periodically doing a slow turn.

"Don't take this the wrong way," he whispered before taking both her hands and positioning them on his shoulders.

"This is even better," she commented.

The sight did not escape the people onstage either, who were pointing and grinning. He turned her in such a way that he could whisper something to her: "Do you regret this charade now?" But it appeared as though he had kissed her.

"Nope."

"I get to pick the next one," he said firmly.

She shrugged.

"Fine with me."

After what seemed like an eternity of music, dances, and carefully feigned gestures, the concert was over. Melody followed him back to their room to pack. They had no sooner shouldered their bags when a chaos erupted outside.

"FIENDS!" someone yelled.

Sure enough, an enormous herd of them was swarming the town.

"We have to help!" Melody exclaimed.

Seymour sighed. The air was full of drakes, bees, and a couple of things he didn't recognize. Machina were moving everywhere trying to target the fiends, but there were too many of them. He grabbed Melody and yanked her to the side just as a gold elemental sent a nasty bolt at her. She swiped at it with her sword, but it dodged. Seymour drenched it with a wave and they kept running. One of the drakes barreled past and knocked her on her butt. The sword clanged out of her hand and Seymour barely had time to turn around before he saw its gaping jaws open. He was sure that this would be the end of her, as he had no hope of reaching her in time. But there was a strange vibration in the air. Something akin to magic but not exactly the same scent filled his nostrils. He watched as time seemed to slow down. Her eyes began to glow. The whites, pupils, and irises were indistinct from each other, all turning a blazing green-gold. Her skin paled and began to glow and she forced the monster's jaws back with her bare hands. Then came what he could only describe as a ripple in the air.

Melody exploded.

It wasn't even so much that she really blew up—it was that she just expanded. There was a bright flash of light. What he saw hovering in the air wasn't the least bit human—it had six wings, shimmering armor, and a very intimidating expression. The sword clattered across the ground before flying back into her hand. She stabbed the drake and it died in a scream echoing through its Pyreflies. Seymour was so stunned that he didn't move from where he was. She was there one minute, then she was flying in a bright white streak across the road to clobber one of those enormous bees about to stick its stinger into a small child. The hot stench of spilled blood filled the air. With renewed vigor, the others began to fight as well. The six-winged Melody didn't stop until every last one of those creatures was gone. He lost sight of her when she landed. It wasn't until he felt the cool, mercifully refreshing breeze on his face that he realized that his hood had fallen back…