At first, Rinoa thought she was back in Time Compression. She was back in Time Compression; the only world around her was a swirling mass of stars, except not stars but rather distinct moments of time reduced to single points of light and torn apart from each other. Time was no longer linear, but scattered all over the place in a completely unworkable, illogical jumble. Nothing could exist in this total disarray; no world, no life, nothing at all, because there was no time for anything to exist in. The world could take whatever form it liked, but it wouldn't matter because without time, no one would ever be able to see it, nor their minds be able to register any sensation or comprehend its meaning. Without time, there was nothing.

But she was there. The Sorceress was beyond time; she alone could exist in the compressed universe, with no world, no one, nothing else. She had that power and that curse; in the compressed world, there could only be her; and because there was no time, she would remain there, existing, forever.

But there was not just her, was there? Where were Squall, and all her friends? And where was the woman who caused all this? Where was Ultimecia?

The stars of time continued to dance about — how could they be moving if there was no time? — as she wondered this, and searched for the presence of the woman who sought to deny all existence, and must now have succeeded. But there was no one there but her.

Only she existed.

Rinoa gasped, but she had no breath. That was the answer; she was Ultimecia.

Rinoa?

She heard his voice in the distance. Squall's voice. As promised, he was waiting for her. If she came, she would find him, just like he said. She felt relieved; all she had to do was meet him there, and everything would be all right.

A warm wind washed over her from the direction of the sea; and she was Rinoa again, as the illogical, impossible world of Time Compression had disappeared as if blown away by the breeze. A sweet aroma rose up around her, and she stood surrounded by some of the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen. She smiled. Everything was all right again.

But where was he?

The orphanage, she realized, was nowhere to be seen. Nor the sea; though she was sure one had to be nearby. Nor was Squall; the only thing she could see was an endless carpet of flowers, stretching to the horizon in every direction.

Somewhere in this gargantuan field, he was waiting for her; but she had no idea where to look.

Rinoa...

His voice came from behind her, and very far away. She spun around and began to run towards him, the flowers gliding past her legs. I'm coming! she called. Please wait for me!

She ran until she finally came to the edge of the field, and the ocean lay in front of her. But the breeze that came from these waters was not warm; within an instant, she felt chilled to the bone.

I'll be here... Squall's voice seemed to be drifting in on this new, freezing wind; it seemed ghostly now, inhuman. Rinoa wanted to turn and run away.

Why are you doing this? she called. I'm scared!

The 'why' echoed back to her; and as she watched, the ocean seemed to evaporate into thin air. What had been the beach became the edge of a vast desert; and the wind that slammed her now was a dry heat that made her feel like a corpse.

I'll be 'waiting' here...

For what? she heard her voice ask. Another dry wind blew in from the desert; and the flowers all around her were beginning to die. Shaken loose from their stems, thousands of still-healthy petals were cast into the air.

I'll be waiting...for you...so...

I can't find you! Rinoa screamed, glancing frantically about the dying field. His voice was merely an echo now, rolling in from the distant mountains though the wind came from the opposite direction.

If you come here... Squall's voice replied; though she still could not know where it came from. You'll find me.

I promise.

Those last two words were different somehow; they were louder, more resounding, and even made her flinch when she heard them. And they seemed to come from very near by, as if being carried with the next gust of wind.

A mass of flower petals were now swirling around her. Reaching out, Rinoa caught one in her hand; then immediately let go, as it felt she was holding an active light bulb in her palm. The petal was gone; in its place was a single, white feather that glowed brightly as it rose slowly into the air, ignoring the strong wind that still blew past her. Then it was suddenly caught up in the wind, and disappeared into the sky.

Thunder rolled in from the mountains now, and the wispy clouds were illuminated by bursts of lightning. The wind became even stronger now; and it seemed that the flowers themselves were in danger of being uprooted from the rocky ground. Rinoa wrapped her arms tightly around her torso, having no defense from the assault of nature. I'm sorry, she whispered. I can't find you.

And then, she was being lifted off into the air. Two shining, ethereal wings emerged from her back, and she knew that she was shielded from the wind, the storm and whatever other force could harm her. She was the Sorceress.

Then the wind slammed into her again. The ethereal wings had suddenly become very physically real, and she could feel the agony as the powerful wind tore the feathers, one by one, from these newly flesh-and-blood limbs; and she collapsed back to the earth in tears.

The wind continued to ravage her until all trace of the wings were gone; there was merely a throbbing pain beneath her shoulder blades. Then it died away; and she realized that the flowers, too, were gone. Now she lay on nothing but barren rocks.

There was the sound of metal striking stone, and in a flash of motion a gunblade fell from the sky and buried itself in the ground, bare meters away. Squall's gunblade. Too pained and weak to move, Rinoa simply stared at it, as another burst of thunder rolled in from the sky, and it began, lightly, to rain.

A pair of familiar black boots entered her vision. Squall, back towards her, walked to the gunblade, closed his hand around the hilt, and yanked it out of the earth. He checked the blade, then lowered it to his side. Then he turned to her.

And he smiled.

"It's all right," he assured her. "I'm here now. Everything's fine."

Rinoa didn't feel fine at all. She couldn't move; she could barely breathe. Her whole body felt weak, and the pain where her wings had been was becoming worse if anything. Her eyes fixed on the gunblade.

"Please," she said. "Just put me...out of this misery."

But Squall shook his head, and holstered the weapon. Kneeling down before her, he held out his gloved right hand, displaying the contents to her. It was the feather.

Rinoa shook her head, trying to recoil at the sight of it; but she was too weak. "No," she said; but Squall didn't listen. With the same reassuring smile, he took her right hand in his left, and pressed the feather into her palm. Rinoa shook her head weakly, but her protests went unheeded as Squall – gently, yet firmly – closed her hand around it.

The pain was back at once. Rinoa cried out, but Squall didn't relax his grip, even as Rinoa thought the feather might burn her whole hand off. Again she protested; but her cries degenerated to an incomprehensible whimper.

"We'll be together," Squall told her, holding her hand firm. It'll be all right."

The pain was spreading from her hand, now. The throbbing from her former wings had escalated to rival the pain of the feather in her hand. Then suddenly, the pain multiplied again, as she felt the wings sprouting anew; and the fire spread throughout her body, overloading all her senses; and all she could do was —

She screamed, sitting bolt upright in the bed. The transition from dream to consciousness was lost on her; all she could feel was pain. The fire felt like it was going to consume her, and all she could think was to push it away. And another transition was lost as her, as in that instant, the imagined fire became real.

The curtain surrounding her bed was the first thing to erupt in flames; then the sheets and mattresses on the nearby beds; and finally the walls, wooden beneath the sterile white paint, caught as well as the paint was peeled away by the heat.

The fire alarm rang out, but Rinoa didn't hear it. After a few more moments, she lapsed back into unconsciousness, hers the only bed in the care ward not engulfed in flame.

Squall had dozed off at around 23:00; when he awoke, it seemed that he was the only person still at the clinic. He didn't give too much thought to this, however; as when he awoke, it was to the very distinctive sound of a fire alarm. Glancing toward the care ward, he could see through the door a flickering light source in the distance; and it took him a very short time to determine everything he felt he needed to know.

Charging through the door, the short hallway and the second door into the care ward, Squall found himself in the midst of a total inferno. Wasting no time, he navigated from memory to the location of Rinoa's bed, and found her looking just as comatose as ever, though slumped over in such a fashion that she was close to falling out of the bed. Given that the bed was surrounded by flames and the sheets were threatening to catch fire themselves, the floor might have been a better place to be.

Squall quickly took her up in his arms, giving only an instant's thought as to why the only part of the room not completely aflame was a small circular area around Rinoa's bed. He turned to head back out the other door, but the fire had completely engulfed the doorframe and was spreading into the hall. Instead, he turned to the windows that lined the opposite end of the room.

Demi. He barely kept still long enough for the spell to complete, charging forward and leaping through the newly broken window, landing flat on his back in a manner that prevented any serious injury to Rinoa, but knocked the wind out of him. For a moment, he simply lay there, breathless and shaking.

What happened in there? he thought. Did Rinoa...?

He heard shouts from somewhere nearby. The fire was attracting attention; people would be gathering soon. Although he was still gasping for air, Squall got up again, and carried Rinoa in the direction of least commotion. He was in what looked like a back alley, cluttered with boxes and trash and not particularly appealing to the average pedestrian. This was good for him, because before anyone bothered to come back there, Squall was at the other side of town.

We have to get out of here, Squall thought. And fast. These people might think we had something to do with this, even if they don't know Rinoa is a Sorceress. He remembered there being cars parked along the road before, when he had first arrived in town. This was a small town; didn't people in small Timber communities usually leave their cars unlocked, with the keys inside? He remembered hearing something like that.

The fire had indeed drawn a great deal of attention, and he managed to find an old, unattended station wagon with not a soul visible within three or four blocks. Quickly, he secured Rinoa in the passenger's seat and discovered the key in the vehicle's glove compartment. He didn't look back after starting the engine to see if anyone had noticed or was following him; he simply took off down the road, not even sure which direction he was going, simply concerned with getting away once again.