If a coward dies a thousand times
Then there's a graveyard in my head
'Cause it took me years to say the words
That you did not even need said

Then everything danced to a stranger tune
And we found our song, and we found our truth
And now that we know it's that we always knew
Farewell to the chains we were born into
The Ship in Port - Radical Face

The elevator was slow, but the fluorescent bulb above his head provided a steady stream of buzzing light. His heartbeat finally slowing, Hatchet's brown eyes flicked around the cream boxed walls as they gradually ascended towards the gift shop. The woman behind him whimpered quietly.

Suddenly, the elevator shuddered to a halt and she cried out. The light flickered rapidly. A wave of chilling anger swept through the small box and Hatchet held the fiery sword in front of him. It was a brief moment, but pale eyes appeared amidst the flashing lights, staring at him hungrily from the front of the elevator doors. His ancient uniform was burnt, as well as half of his face, showing crispy skin and gray bone underneath. The spirit leaned forward, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The dead orbs slipped to the blade in Hatchet's hand, and with a scream of his own, Hatchet swung the sword towards the spirit as if on instinct. There was a rush of cold wind, an echo of a man's cry of agony, and the ghost was gone.

Both humans were left gasping for breath as the lights continued to flicker. The elevator shook once before continuing its slow and steady climb. Hatchet glanced down at the sword, and he felt its absolute fury, the rage tightly spiraling inside and out. He let out a small grunt as it burned hotter than ever.

"Nice try," he hissed at it, his teeth clenched from the pain. "I think I understand now. I'm never letting you go. You are mine now."

The woman jerked in surprise. "What?"

"Shut up!" Hatchet snarled and the woman cowered closer to the dirty tile floor. He turned back to the sword with a tight sneer.

It wanted him to let go.

And now he understood why.

The woman gasped, huddling into the corner just as a thick, strong hand unexpectedly yanked on his shoulder. The Strategos pivoted on foot and swiped at the air behind him. The ghost, its dead face too close for comfort, disappeared as soon as the Fanelian sword touched it.

"You can protect me…" He let out a laugh and raised the sword, waiting for other spirits to come near. "You're burning me to make me drop you. As soon as I let go, your little friends are coming to get me. I'll be a goner like the rest of my men." Another solid bark of a laugh escaped him. "I'm never letting you go, you bastard sword. You are mine."

The woman screamed, pointing to his right, and Hatchet's brown eyes zeroed in on the wall to see ethereal fingers emerging from it. The hand stretched to an elbow before Hatchet slashed with the blade.

Another wraith-like shriek and the spirit disappeared.

It was if a lifetime had passed before the elevator doors finally let out a small ding and they opened.

The endless sea of spirits on the other side was enough to make Hatchet's blood run cold. They stood, crowded in the small gift shop, waiting in various stages of decay. Skeletal bleeding faces, missing limbs, bones and rib cages peeking through chunks of flesh and armor. Each stared at him, flooding the room with cold, blood-thirsty revenge.

And they waited for him.

His throat tightening, Hatchet reached down and yanked the woman's arm. She was shoved forward into the ghosts. Her scream fell short as she fell through them, landing hard on the ground. Their soulless eyes never acknowledged her, but held onto him tightly. Swinging the hot sword back and forth, he noticed the ones closest to him flick their gaze to it. He came closer, non-verbally baiting them.

And, one by one, they backed away slowly from the singing blade.

"Ha!" Hatchet's heart rose in triumph. "Too scared, are you? I'm right here!" Stepping boldly out of the elevator, he felt more than saw a spirit jump him from the left. He stabbed and the ghost let out a wail of agony. It evaporated before it hit the ground.

"You see? Come at me! I dare you- argh-!" The sword was scalding him now, his skin beginning to fry to the navy pommel. Panting, but intoxicated with his luck, he swung the sword once more, using the agony in his hand to keep himself moving. A cold wetness was slowly dripping down his wrist. Bleeding from the heat.

"Get up!" he snarled at the woman and she clambered to her feet. Her body was a trembling mess as she stood inside two different ghosts. "Go," he commanded. "You're first. They don't want you. Pity."

Her arms covering her chest, her head bent low, the older woman started walking towards the exit of the shop. The ghosts never parted for her, never noticed her. She walked through them as easily as air. The spirits were watching the sword, watching his face. He swung the sword behind him and a startled cry escaped another pouncing ghost.

With a smile, he licked his lips and started following his hostage, periodically swinging the sword to keep the phantom army at bay. The woman opened the door, and held it as Hatchet walked through. The dark cold of the night hit his body like the breath of death. He felt the stinging chill hitting his lungs.

It was a few steps more out of the store that a slice of pain hit his right side. Hatchet roared at the ghost, who had swiped at his waist with a decrepit knife. The spirit's mangled body was practically falling apart as if it had been crushed by something heavy. Though the wound itself was shallow against Hatchet's ribs, his mind snapped like a feral animal. He slashed at the air with screams of fury, taking several steps off the path and hitting four more ghosts standing there. He turned to the left and slashed wildly. At least ten disappeared, the crowd around him backing away further.

A twist of white-hot rage seared Hatchet's palm from the pommel and he bit back his cry of agony. He was panting now. The blood was running freely into his sleeve cuff and down his arm.

"You are mine!" he shrieked at the sword, the spirits, the woman. "I am never letting you go!"

Marching quickly back to the path, he pushed her roughly forward and she stumbled before beginning to climb the slight incline hill. Again the ghosts only parted for him. Soon, they were simply following him, falling into line like a marching army. Every skeletal face was turned to his back. Every dead pupil-less eye staring at his face unblinkingly.

It was closer to the Chapellieur that Hatchet began to see the bodies of his men. One or two were sprawled on the pathway, another was closer to the overgrown foliage that was left wild and uncut. Cresting the hill, the woman stopped and let out a horrified cry through her fingers. He followed and shoved her so hard, she tripped over a prone body lying in her way.

It was a massacre.

There were so many of them. So many men, dead. Hatchet's brown eyes flicked to the still hand near his shoe and he kicked the fallen woman.

"Get up! Grab that gun right there and hand it over!" He pointed with the sword's tip before flicking the blade around to keep approaching ghosts at bay. They seemed to have learned their lesson. They stopped with him, behind him, waiting for him to continue.

Waiting for him to make a mistake.

"A sword for the dead, a gun for the living," he said softly as the woman scrambled to obey, her trembling fingers barely able to hold the heavy weapon. She placed it in his empty hand and he grinned brightly as he tested the trigger. Another swipe of the blade behind him, and he swallowed down the sear of agony from the sword. The scars were worth it. Everything had been worth it.

He had a hostage, he had protection from the spirits, now all he needed was to get to the Chapellieur.

To the machine.

The silence was deafening. It was as if the entire universe was holding its breath.

Waiting.

Watching.

The orb was black beside his leg. At the center of the large yew, Van, on his knees, couldn't feel the seeping wet soaking his pants from the sludgy dirt. His tan skin, bleeding, scarred, exposed, and shivering, went unnoticed. He refused to move. Refused to leave. His mind was beyond comprehension, beyond reasoning.

Van held her, but it didn't feel real. Nothing felt real. The stillness of her body, the frozen struggle on her face, the blood that still wept gently out of her lips. Even in death, she was beautiful. Her short brown hair draped on his arm like a halo. His eyes focused on the features he knew so well: the curve of her open mouth, her wide green eyes, her lovely round cheeks. He remembered touching her face as he kissed her in the garden. Had he known that would be the last time-

No, no, no… no, she was coming back. Van only had to wait.

She would come back. The wish would correct everything. That's what everyone had said. He just had to wait and watch.

Any minute, she'd snap back to life and blink those large eyes. Sit up without a scratch on her, and smile at him. In that moment, he'd grab her to him and kiss her till she moaned against his mouth like she had before. Reluctantly, he'd break the kiss, but only to wrap his arms fully around her with relief so overwhelmingly great he'd shout at the top of his lungs. She'd cry against his chest, her small hands holding him steady. Keeping him grounded. Oh, but he wouldn't be able to help himself! He'd go back to kissing her. He'd kiss her and he'd go for that spot on her neck again that made her gasp and shiver. That spot he'd only just discovered.

Gods, there was so much more to explore. He'd find other ways to make her shiver with desire. He'd slowly figure out each one, making her completely his. He'd explore her to his heart's content, learning the ins and outs of this wonderful, beautiful, intelligent woman forever.

And he'd give himself to her. Everything he had. Let her have whatever she wanted.

She just had to come back.

It was so simple. They were meant to be. That's how it was supposed to end. The cards had said so. Magic had said so.

All he had to do was wait. She'd come back. She had to. She had to.

The orb beside him was black.

She was in his arms. Her face was twisted in her dying effort to breathe. Her lovely mouth dripping...

She wasn't waking up.

"Master Fanel?" Chordata's voice shattered his fantasy. He felt a bite of irrational anger towards her. The silence should only be broken by Hitomi! She'll breathe, this time clear and strong, and he'll be alright. It was what he was waiting for. It was what was meant to happen.

"We should get out of here-"

"Any minute, Chordata. She will come back." His voice didn't sound right. It sounded like someone who'd already given up. But he hadn't. He never would.

"Master Fanel…" Chordata was weeping behind him, but he couldn't see why. She shouldn't be crying. Hitomi was coming back.

He just had to wait.

"She's gone, Master."

He shook his head viciously, his black hair slinging into his eyes. He remembered how Hitomi had hated his navy hat. When she came back, he'd make sure to get another one just to annoy her. He'd wear it every day and wait for her to smack it off his head. He'd tell her she was being irrational and that her hunched shoulders were a sign of it. That'd get her angry. She'd get so mad at him and he'd grab her and hold her tightly because that was his Hitomi. Angry, lovely, spouting off at him with her cheeks growing red. That was the one he loved.

"Master…" Chordata had come into the yew tree, the flashlight growing more intense on Hitomi's face. "Oh, no… no, no…" She bent, her skirt brushing Van's arm as her shaking hand reached slowly for Hitomi's head. Van watched, frozen in a trance-like fascination, as Chordata's delicate fingers closed her green eyes.

"She will wake up, Chordata." The words sounded wrong again. He couldn't figure out why.

Chordata's amber eyes flicked on him, searching, reading, but he didn't care. Hitomi looked like she was sleeping now. Sleeping with blood-stained lips. The flashlight ghosting over Hitomi's pale cheeks slipped to the black orb and then to the skeleton in the corner.

"It didn't work…" she whispered. "You two made the wish?"

Van nodded slowly.

"This was what we were supposed to do. That's what everyone said."

"We have to wait for it, Chordata. That is what I am trying to tell you-"

Her soft hands were suddenly on his bicep. "We should get out of the tree and escape."

"I will never leave her behind."

Chordata's teeth snapped behind her lips as if insulted. "We will take her back home with us, of course. But we are still in danger here, Master Fanel. It'd be better if we waited in a safer place."

"If she stays near the machine, she will wake up quicker."

"Master Fanel-"

"It does not matter anymore anyway."

"Please, Master!"

"Nothing matters until she wakes up."

"We need to go!"

"NO!"

"Yes! It's time to come out!" A man's light tenor voice called from outside the yew tree. Chordata left Van's side so abruptly, it distracted him for a moment from Hitomi's face. He turned to see her springing to her feet, the flashlight hitting the hole of the yew.

A sly smile on thin lips, a familiar man with glasses was looking at them with triumph. Van could only watch as the man raised a gun and pointed it straight at Chordata's head.

"Hatchet…"

"Come on. Do as I say."

Van stood, Hitomi draped limply in his arms, and followed Chordata obediently out of the small opening in the yew tree. He made sure her body didn't touch any part of the tree. She wouldn't be hurt anymore. Not while he was still alive. He scraped his left arm on the splintered bark, but didn't feel the pain. Instead, as he stepped out, familiar whispers of hate resonated in the darkness just beyond the flashlight. Holding her closer, Van couldn't see them, but he knew they were there. All of them. They were waiting and watching just as he was. The army that had risen for him. Fought for him even in death. They were surrounded.

His people.

They met him on the pathway, the yew behind Van's head, and Hatchet's lips curling into a brilliant, winning grin. Van stood by Chordata's side as her flashlight illuminated the man's body. Van's gaze traveled over the man's pale, sneering face, down till they landed on a familiar looking sword grasped in his hand. Van couldn't help himself from gasping and taking a few step forward - but the gun violently swung towards him. That was when Van finally noticed an older woman behind the man, her brown eyes glued to Hitomi's still body in his arms. The roundness of her face. The slender frame. Hell, even the shape of her eyes and the way they stared, deep and fearful, were exactly the same.

Her mother. He had gotten Hitomi's mother.

"Hitomi…" the woman whimpered. "My baby…is she-?"

"Fuck! Is she dead already?" The man with the gun complained with a groan. "All this work for nothing. What a waste of fucking time."

"Hatchet, what are you-" Chordata began, but was quickly cut off as the man turned, pointed the barrel at the woman's surprised face, and fired. The shot blasted so loud, Van jumped in shock. It echoed through the very stones of the Chapellieur. Van's arms cradled Hitomi further as her mother crumpled - lifeless before she hit the ground.

Hatchet instantly pointed it to Chordata, who had risked taking a few steps closer during his turned back. Her expression was clear - not a whisper of fear in her sharp amber eyes. Her back straight and prepared.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not any closer, traitor." Hatchet smiled widely as if greeting an old friend. "Nice to see you again, kitten."

She growled, her flashlight steady on his face. Daring.

"I knew I'd get you sooner or later. It's been a long time - what - seven? Eight years?"

"Thirteen," Chordata snapped sharply.

"Doesn't matter, I guess." The man sighed - before the gun burst again.

Van blinked.

And Chordata was falling.

The flashlight collided with the ground before her body did. Her hands were clasping her stomach, her dirty dress tangling around her legs. Van tried to shout, tried to scream, but his throat was suddenly useless. She was writhing, her cries and mews melting him. Vaguely, he was aware of the gun slowly coming to point straight at his skull.

His sword was in the man's hand.

Chordata was dying.

Hitomi was dead.

And Van had nothing else left.

Nothing…

Except-

"What the- What did you do!?" the man suddenly cried, his brown eyes growing wild at something behind Van's head. With his mouth falling open, Van turned to see the yew tree.

Its little twisted roots were beginning to be consumed by a terribly beautiful glow.

Van's heart leapt.

"You bastard! What did you do to the machine?!"

The light raced from the hole they'd created in the tree, stretching forward and spreading towards him. Hitomi's body was instantly bright, her body illuminated. On his chest, the pink jewel around his neck pulsated with the light. The pendant grew warm, strengthening with each passing breath. Slowly, it lifted into the air from where it had sat at his heart. The pendant glowed beside Hitomi's face, brightening the dark blood that was still drying on her beautiful skin. Her short, light brown hair tossed in the air. The string the stone was tied to dissolved into the air. He watched as the pendant flickered, a fracture cracking its smooth surface.

The pendant he'd taken from the past. The one that had been with him since the beginning of it all.

The true unknown ally.

Escaflowne.

The gun was pointed. Hatchet was screaming. Van turned to see a large dark figure with a missing jaw materialize beside the Strategos. Hatchet seemed to notice him at the same time, his mouth opening with terror and his body jumping away reflexively. The old man's head tilted, his eyes rolling with wild delight. The blood dripped. The scarred face snarled. And his large samurai sword sliced up with tight precision on Hatchet's upraised hand. The limb severed, the gun dropping in the dirt, and Balgus instantly appeared on the man's right, his sword swiping the other arm.

Van's sword dropped to the ground, the severed fingers still grasping the pommel tightly.

Hatchet screamed, his missing hands raised to his glasses in bewildered terror. A white blur rushed past Van and he saw Chordata slide to grab his fallen sword. With a cry of fury, she snatched the navy pommel and raised to kneel. Thrusting forward, she stabbed Hatchet through the chest, the red blade sword sliding beautifully into his simple cotton shirt. She slipped the blade out, and stabbed again, this time through his neck. Hatchet, his eyes wide with glasses slipping, staggered back as spirits gathered close. Their faces spreading into identical smiles of sadistic joy as the Strategos fell into their waiting arms.

Van, Hitomi's body in his arms, his pendant ringing in the air with the yew tree, hurried to Chordata's side. The front of her dress was growing red. She was crouched low, clutching her wound. Her arms trembling, her long ears low, and her voice letting out small mewls of pain.

"Chordata!" Van cried. It was as if the seconds passed as minutes. He watched the life slip from Chordata's amber eyes.

She dropped to the ground before he could reach her.

Van stumbled to a halt.

He stood amongst a sea of corpses.

Hatchet, his body ripped to shreds, had disappeared into the night with the ghosts. Hitomi's mother was staring at the sky, a bloody hole drilled into her forehead. Chordata, her body curled in her dying agony, was quiet. Her white fur tossed with the growing wind. He stumbled the rest of the way to her and fell to his knees, his legs tucking into her precious side. He tucked Hitomi under his chin and grabbed the navy pommel from Chordata's limp hand. Setting the weapon to his side, he gently reached and took Chordata's bloodstained fingers with his own.

She was gone. She was truly gone.

He was beyond tears. Beyond it all.

The fight was done, but his cost… his cost had been too great.

"C-Chordata…" he whispered her name. She stayed still, the wind from the combined power of the jewel and yew tree tossing her dress.

They… they were all dead.

It had all happened too fast. Too much.

He was all alone.

Van held Hitomi tighter. His sword finally back at his side. Chordata's hand nestled in his.

Behind his head, the jewel finally burst into a thousand pieces. He screamed as the shards scattered, covering their precious bodies with his own. His mahogany eyes opened to see a massive figure emerge from the pieces.

Enormous. Mechanical. White and terrible.

The ground quaked underneath him as the figure fell to its knee before him, subservient - and yet unyielding in its power.

Van could hardly breathe.

He stared at the Guymelef. His body was shaking, the breath was coming in short gasps. And finally:

I want to know your true wish.

The deep voice spoke in the back of Van's mind. It was a pressure, a presence Van somehow had never felt before, and yet, he knew it had always been there. His constant companion.

Waiting for the right moment to make itself known.

"My true wish…?" The question hardly escaped his mouth before the Escaflowne's white helmet turned down by itself to look at him. It was a surreal moment of awe, the expressionless glance of a knight melef staring hard at him.

I want to know your true wish.

"We wished upon the machine!" he roared, anger seizing him unexpectedly.

The machine has heard your destiny's wish, but I want to know yours, Van Slanzar de Fanel. Your true wish.

A strangled bitter laugh croaked out of his throat. "My true wish… all this time… all this time you were here! Escaflowne!" His frustration rushed the words. "You could have done something! C-could have s-saved her! Saved both of them!" His voice broke as he glanced wildly at Hitomi, at Chordata, and back at Escaflowne's monstrous form. "You have been here this entire time! Now you decide to show me your form! Now you come to me! When everyone is dead?!"

My time had not yet come. I want to hear your true wish.

Without another thought Van snarled, "My true wish!? You know what I want!"

Say it.

"I want her!" His voice broke. "I want Hitomi Kanzaki! I want her alive! I want her to be with me in this lifetime - and the next! And the one after that! Throughout all the different worlds! I want her be destined to meet me even before we are born! I want to meet her and fall in love with her over and over! No matter the world! No matter the cost! We will be together! Just give her back to me! Give her back to me..." The burn behind his eyes grew and he squeezed them shut and held her tighter. So tight.

She was his. His country. His future. He wanted it always tied to her. Everything he was, she was there, too. No matter what.

No matter what.

I shall grant your true wish.

The light grew harder, brighter.

And Van, behind his eyelids, saw nothing but white.

She sat on the couch. The office, as tidy as ever, was a comfort to her. A relief.

Her thin fingers twiddled the drawstring of her pants, but she was comfortable. She had to be.

Her dull green eyes refused to look at breaking sky that was peeking through the curtains. It was thundering again. She knew she used to like it when the weather did this, but she couldn't remember why anymore. She was tempted to ask Amano, but she was worried that would upset him. She must never upset anyone. The last time she'd upset the staff, they'd strapped her to her bed for a long time. She was placed under guard. And she didn't like the guards. They called her names under their breath: "crazy", "freak", "lunatic". They made threats to her. Ones that made her fearful at night.

But she took her pills now. Every day.

She was going to be good. A good girl. All the nurses said so-

Hitomi! I can see you!

She inclined her head towards the window.

The Red Eyes were calling her.

I. Have. One. Chapter. Left.

I'm going to sit and stare in a corner for a moment because I never thought I would get this far. I mean I KNEW I would eventually be here, but this journey... this was an ADVENTURE. The twists and turns and just... the pure insanity of it all. It was fun and heartbreaking and... it's a lot to soak in. To be here... I mean, I had this planned since the very beginning. And now I'm here. And I need to sit down and breathe for a moment.

But we aren't done yet. Just because there's one more chapter left doesn't mean I'm out of surprises. I've got a wish to grant. :)

A massive shout out to Kerapal Bubbles for her edits. She's the best! She has basically held my hand through these last three updates. Scratch that, ever since she volunteered her free time to helping me out, I've really relied on her. Thank you, my friend, for believing that I could get this far.

The last chapter is already in the works.

The last one...

Wow.

A lot of time and hard work went into this story - not just from me, but from many others who gave me advice and suggestions. If you've enjoyed this journey, please let us know.

Stay turned for the conclusion - that feels so weird to type out.

blue...