Author's Notes: What happens in this chapter is the very reason why the story even came to be (other than a story request by a friend). Now comes the first scene I ever imagined for this fic, long before the idea was even beginning to be fleshed out (five years ago, plus or minus a week or two). It was the beginning of Elijah, of Boyce, of what Nida would be and would have to do. The story, in a way, exists for what comes now, evolved to create this moment, to build up to it, and to show the result of what was to come of it. And so, I give you the true driving factor of this story, a moment I have feared and embraced since I first imagined it. Enjoy. And know that the story will never be the same...

There will be a short Interlude next normal update day (July 23rd), then nothing until August. Sorry, I need a bit of downtime. You'll understand why soon enough.

Hyne's War: Chapter 23

It hadn't taken him long past when he'd broken contact with Siren to find the room where his weapons had been stored. But even after he'd managed to get his hands upon the halberd and glaive, he couldn't find it in himself to sleep. The rest of the night he spent in that room, weapons in his lap and whetstone in hand, sharpening the blades of his weapons until they were sharp enough to cut a hair. When that was done he wrapped and rewrapped the leather grips on both weapons until he was satisfied with them. He thought and planned and waited, refusing to close his eyes, to dream again. To see just who it was he would have to kill, or what might happen when he took the offered hand. There was such a thing as knowing too much of the future.

When dawn finally came, Nida knew it. He could hear people starting to move beyond the safe, small room that he sat in, and the longer he sat, the more frantic the sounds beyond the door became. Someone had noticed that their heir was missing, and the search was on. Sooner or later they would find him. Sooner or later he would have to act. At last the noises started to grow too loud, too close, and he quickly coaxed Siren from her charm and into that familiar place in his mind, calling for her power to protect him. Soon he'd be found, and her power would be vital to surviving. When they found him here, armed, they would know. SeeD wasn't coming in two days time, they were coming now.

Quickly he strapped his halberd in place on his back—all of his gear save the communicators had been in the room, including the leather rig he used to carry multiple polearms—gripped his glaive in his hands, and pushed the door open. Even as it opened someone was passing by, and they jumped when they turned and saw him. The man, one with a blue armband, quickly reached for the sword at his side, but Nida was faster. He pulled at a sleep spell in his mind and unleashed it on the man. As soon as the man had collapsed at his feet, Nida moved to pull him into the room, and closed the door behind him. Leaving a body laying out in the open wasn't going to help him, not that it would remain hidden long even in the small storage room. The Zebalgan would search everywhere at Boyce's command, and Nida wouldn't have much time to act.

That didn't mean there wasn't a reason for stealth, though. His training was too deeply ingrained in his mind to let him abandon whatever edge might be possible, and he'd need whatever energy he could spare for the fights he knew came ahead. Luckily his wandering over the night and days before had given him some rough idea of the layout of this place, and Elijah's attempt to get them to the black room without being seen had taught him some of the areas that most Zebalgans wouldn't go. It wasn't much of an edge, but it was enough of one to get him into the hallway where the ebony doors stood with only one or two encounters, and each of those were easily dealt with by simple sleep spells. At last he stood before where Elijah had taken him the day before, but this time the doors were already open.

When he looked through the doors, the room was far darker than he'd remembered when he was with Elijah, but just as he remembered it from the dream. There was only a few flickering torches along the black marble walls to light the room, and the black marble seemed to drink in the light. He knew that further ahead, untouched by the light of the torches, would be the stairs he'd seen in his dreams, black marble shot with veins of brilliant white, stairs that Boyce would stand at the top of, clad in his blindingly white robes. Those stairs were his goal, well, Boyce's device beyond them in truth. If he didn't make it past the defenses, didn't shut down the system, then all his work here would be for nothing. More people would be hurt than was even remotely near necessary. Still, that didn't make what had to come next any more pleasant. He took a deep breath, wrapping his hand around the mithril harp, and tried to steel himself against the shock he knew would come when he stepped over the threshold.

Sure enough, the second he passed the doorway he felt an unnerving rush of fear followed by emptiness in his mind that worried him more than he remembered it having worried him in his dream. Siren was gone from his mind, she wasn't even in the harp, though it seemed to prickle with warmth wherever its metal pressed against his hand. But, just like in the dream, the wave of fear wasn't the only rush of energy that swept through the room as he strode forward. Light flooded into the room, forcing hm to raise his arm, shielding his eyes with his empty hand from the glare of the light. When he finally felt like he'd adjusted to the sudden brilliance, Nida lowered his arm and looked immediately towards the stairs. Sure enough they were visible now, as were the two people who stood upon them.

One was the person he'd expected ever since he'd seen the vision of white against black. Boyce stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at him with disappointment, his arms crossed over his chest, hands hidden in the folds of his long white sleeves. Yet he wasn't quite as Nida'd expected. For one thing, the man was armed. He could only just see the handle and part of the blade of a great battle axe slung across the man's back. Boyce was ready for a fight, and him at least Nida wasn't sure if he could beat. Especially considering who was standing with him.

Further down the stairs, clad in his favorite fighting clothes and with his blade already in hand was Elijah. Even seeing him made Nida want to cry. Elijah was glaring at him, his blue eyes cold in a way that Nida couldn't explain, didn't want to see. It was the worst thing that Boyce could put before him, the only person he'd hesitate in fighting. Chances were Boyce thought that it might make Nida hold back, that he might just surrender rather than harm someone so important to him. Except Boyce didn't know, Elijah didn't know, no one knew what Nida did. They couldn't see the pool of blood in their mind. Couldn't feel it cooling on his hands. Couldn't hear Elijah's heart beat fading, knowing that it was his fault. And yet, even knowing that, knowing that there was nothing he could do to avoid it, Nida still wanted to fall to his knees and surrender.

"So, it comes to this," Boyce said, sounding quite disappointed. "You will not reconsider?"

Nida forced himself to walk forward, to steal what time he could to calm down. As he strode he called out to Siren in his mind, hoping she would hear him.

I can't let you fall into their hands, Siren. Forgive me. I hope that you will fall into the hands of someone on our side, and tell them... Ask them to forgive me for whatever comes next.

There's no response, just a momentary surge of heat in the mithril, one so strong he could feel it through his shirt, before he turned his mind to casting Siren out with all of the force he could muster. Then the heat was gone, the metal as inert as it had been before it'd been given to him, and Nida came to a rest halfway across the room. His glaive came up as he slipped into a defensive stance, and he forced a smile to his face as he looked up at Boyce.

"Boyce Megill, by the authority given to me by the Garden Council and the nations of the world, I hereby place you under arrest. If you surrender now, you and your people will be unharmed."

While he didn't expect the command to be followed, Nida hadn't expected the laughter his words prompted from the old man.

"Oh, my poor, deluded boy, do you really think that you are going to win? Even if you could defeat Elijah and myself, you would not leave this place. My people are already preparing for the assault. We were warned of your duplicity by one of our agents..."

"I don't think you were," Nida countered. "When I left Garden Xu was told it would be five days, not three..."

Boyce narrowed his eyes at Xu's name, and after a moment he just waved it off. "No matter. She managed to contact us shortly after we discovered your disappearance this morning. And Elijah here was quite forthcoming with your intention to come here and shut down our defenses. Your plans are all for nothing."

"I'll shut down that machine, and Squall will take you by force."

"Squall? Don't make me laugh. Your illustrious leader will soon be dead. Xu delighted at that order."

It was Nida's turn to glare. The only thing he could take comfort in was the fact that he knew Seifer was suspicious of Xu. If anyone could stop her attempt, it would be him. Squall would make it through this, and it was up to Nida to make sure Squall could do what was needed here.

"Anyway, we've already begun to withdraw our forces, so your Garden people will only have a token force to face, and they'll have to do it without their precious GFs."

"Don't underestimate Garden, and don't underestimate SeeD."

"Foolish boy, I helped train SeeDs. I know their limits."

"Or maybe you only assume them," Nida countered, still holding his defensive stance. "Come down here and I'll prove just what you don't know."

"Now, why in the world would I ever do that? I'm not here to fight you, only to watch the fight."

"Only cowards don't fight their own battles."

"Only fools misuse resources."

"Is that all you see people as? Resources? Elijah's practically your own son, and you only see him as a tool? What a pitiful man you are. Don't you get it? If he wins, you lose the heir. If I win you lose the heir. What's the point?"

"Boy, don't you see? You are of the Zebalgan blood. Maybe your blood as a child of Vascaroon protects you to some degree from my power, but I doubt that protection will do much if you're weak from a fight. My hold is always stronger over those who've been weakened."

"So if you can't have my service my by own free will, you'll force it upon me?"

"Of course. Elijah." With that Boyce made a small gesture, and Elijah almost seemed to sense it, because with his back turned he definitely couldn't see it. At once Elijah started to walk forward, making a few tentative swipes at the air with his sword.

"Don't kill him," Boyce warned, and Elijah nodded before stopping a few paces before Nida, already slipping into a defensive stance.

"Elijah..." Nida sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Not as much as you will be," Elijah promised, before lunging forward, Rupio raised and ready.

It's easy, almost too easy, to bring his glaive in to defend, but that's just the way that Elijah fights. Starts with testing blows, teasing attacks and wide open guards and moves far too slow to really be considered him at his best. It's how their fights always start, always have started, Nida even wanted to say it was how they would always start, but it was foolish to think that. Still, he responded in kind, his own first blows and defenses testing, almost courting and encouraging. He didn't do it because it was how they always fought. Nida did it because he needed to know just how far Elijah was going to go here. What kind of control did he have over himself?

The answer came sooner than he'd hoped for. He left his guard open during one block, and Elijah finally took the chance presented, his sword lashing out and scraping across Nida's chest. It wasn't as glancing of a blow as he would have hoped, though, as he could almost feel the blade scratching across his ribs. As quickly as he could, Nida stumbled back a few steps, more than ready to be done with the testing phase of the fight. Now what he wanted was space. Polearms were meant for distance, and for a while at least he knew he could wear down Elijah if he kept his distance.

Except Elijah wasn't about to allow that distance. Even as Nida swept at opponent's legs with the glaive, Elijah threw himself into a somersault, carrying him easily inside of Nida's guard. As he landed he slashed out with an overhanded blow, causing Nida to dart back a step, dropping his glaive in the process so he could bring his arms up to protect his face. Luckily he managed to back up before Rupio could cut into his arm. Unfortunately he was unarmed now, and in the fact of an opponent well armed. All he could do was dance further and further back as Elijah swung at him again and again, though now he was only striking out with the flat of his blade. Still, each blow rained down on him made Nida's arms ache, and if he didn't act soon...

They'd already been carried most of the way back to the doors by the fight, and Nida's mind started racing for options. Normally it wasn't the kind of thing one wanted to do in a fight, but this time it served him well, as when Elijah moved in to kick at him, Nida managed to trip over his own feet, falling to the floor. Before Elijah could regain his own balance from the kick, Nida managed to tangle his legs in with Elijah's, tripping the red-head up and forcing him to fall as well. The second his feet were free, Nida rolled away, and when he was far enough he started to push himself to his feet, loosing his halberd and swinging it into a defensive position even as Elijah got up and jabbed at him with his sword.

"Luck won't be enough to win this fight," Elijah called, an amused edge in his voice. "Come on, Nida, you're better than this. Don't you get that your life hangs in the balance?"

No, he got that. Got that better than they thought he did. Except this was a different kind of fight for his life. No matter what happened he'd still be breathing after this fight. They wouldn't let him die. But they'd strip him of any illusion of control over his own life. He'd be turned into something no less pathetic than Elijah was now. A man with no will of his own, subject to the whims of a crazed man. How did you learn to fight for that?

"I don't want to kill you," Nida responded, shaking his head as he raised his halberd to block another blow.

"If Seifer and Squall can't, what makes you think you can?" Elijah laughed.

"The fact that you can't kill me."

That made Elijah hesitate for just a moment, a flash of sorrow going through his eyes, but Nida wasn't about to waste the chance. He twirled his halberd in his hands, and struck at Elijah's head with the base of the shaft. Rupio only barely came up in time to redirect the blow, and even though it did, it left Elijah open enough for a kick to the ribs. Elijah was thrown back a few steps, doubled over in pain, and Nida immediately lashed out once more, bringing the base of his weapon down across Elijah's back. With the swordsman on the floor, Nida turned his attention to Boyce. While he was sure he wouldn't get there in time, wouldn't have the chance to take Boyce down, that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. He had to believe, had to deny that he was going to be forced to kill Elijah. Could he really be sure that there was no changing a clear dream? Maybe, just maybe...

He'd only gone a few paces before he heard laughter from Boyce, and Nida skidded to a stop. Part of his mind screamed that he needed to keep going, that he should wipe that look off of Boyce's face, but the better part of him forced him to turn around. As afraid as he was to see what would make Boyce so amused, he had to know. What he found, though, made his blood run cold.

Elijah had made his way back to his knees, but he hadn't moved beyond that other than to take Rupio back up. It was where Rupio was that made Nida worry. Something, Boyce, had compelled Elijah to press his blade against his throat, hard enough that Nida could see a drop of blood welling up at the contact.

"How could you do this?" Nida gasped out. "You'd..."

"What does his life matter without the heir to guide us? Don't you understand, boy? His life is nothing if we cannot fulfill our destiny."

"You are a waste of life," Nida hissed.

"And you won't let him fall to serve your own purposes, will you?"

With a sigh Nida started back towards Elijah, his hand tightening on the shaft of his halberd. Boyce was wrong about that. What he wouldn't allow was Boyce killing Elijah. He couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let that happen. With each step he moved faster, his grip more sure, his mind more made up. And once he was in range, Nida lifted his halberd high, and brought it screaming down towards Elijah's head.

As he thought, Boyce wasn't about to loose his tool like that. Elijah was on his feet faster than should have been possible, and Rupio raised above his head to divert the attack. Sparks flew from where the weapons met, the metal screaming out from the force of the blow. It was enough that Nida actually stumbled back a step when Elijah twisted away from their impact. But staggering back meant a momentary lapse in Nida's defenses, and Elijah quickly took advantage of that, thrusting Rupio forward. Nida could do nothing but scream as the red blade pierced into his right shoulder. Nida's grip on the halberd immediately began to weaken as he whimpered, but he grit his teeth and forced his fingers to wrap all the more tightly around the wood. Already he knew he wasn't going to be able to get away from what he'd seen anymore. The pain was too much, and when he tried to pull away from the sword, he found he couldn't, the blade was buried too deep. There was only one thing he could do, one chance...

"Looks like I win the battle, little bird," Elijah said, a sad smile gracing his face. "I wish it hadn't come to this."

"No," Nida agreed, "I wish it hadn't either."

Despite the way it made his arm scream in pain, Nida thrust his halberd forward, driving the spear point tip into Elijah's chest. It wasn't a good blow, though, and he knew it. The sharp metal pierced low into Elijah's heart, not enough to stop it right away, but enough to guarantee Elijah's death.

"I'm sorry. Hyne, Elijah, I'm sorry."

All the chill was gone from Elijah's eyes, but neither was there the warmth in them that Nida'd grown familiar with. "Do you really think Squall can stop him?"

"I know he can," Nida whispered, letting the shaft of his weapon fall from his grip. His legs were getting too weak to hold him up, and already Elijah was starting to fall, dragging Nida with him because of his sword.

"Good," Elijah responded, his voice barely a whisper. "Good. It's all I ask."

Elijah was dead before they hit the floor, long before Nida pulled Rupio from his shoulder, and his body was cooling before Nida could take Elijah into his arms. And now it was all like the dreams. There was the taste of blood in the air. The feeling of hot blood seeping into his clothing as he bled and Elijah bled out. The body in his arms was cooling so fast, his warmth leeched away by the blood and the icy cold marble below them. When he looks around he can see the pool of blood flowing out from them, a deep red thanks to the black of the floor, rather than the brilliant crimson of Elijah's hair.

Somehow he can't believe how much blood there is. It's everywhere, staining the dark, navy blue of his uniform, covering the black of the stone, filling all of his vision as he cried. It didn't matter that he knew this was coming, he still couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. Wanted to be back in the days where they were in Garden, would sleep in while holding each other. Wanted to live in the time where they were still innocent. It felt like so long ago that there had been a time when there was only the blood of monsters on their hands and blades. Not the blood of people, of soldiers following orders, of people who got in the way, of friends, of lovers. A time before you might be forced to kill someone you once trusted with everything you were.

But they weren't innocent before. Hadn't been for a long time.

They could never be innocent again. Never.

He could see that now.

Worse, Nida knew, he was on the edge of a real panic here, holding the body so close, turning his eyes to glare at Boyce. On the edge of panic and caught up in that moment of clarity that came with it. But the clarity was the kind that was more likely to break him than the panic was.

I can't do this, the clarity said, resounding in his head with more force, more certainty than anything Siren had ever told him. I can barely stand now, even if I wanted to, and I have to get through Boyce if I want to turn off the machine. How am I supposed to do that when I can barely lift my arms?

And there's blood everywhere. Blood on his hands, his and Elijah's intermingled. There's blood on his favorite halberd from the killing blow to the person who had been his best friend, confidant, and lover. There was blood everywhere but on the grinning bastard in white, and there was nothing Nida could do about it.

There was a moment, but it's gone. If I'd let him take Elijah down I could have...

But could he? Could he really have let Boyce do that? Could he stand by and watch Elijah end his own life at Boyce's command? He didn't know anymore. Didn't know.

"Give up."

Nida blinked away his tears and glared back up at Boyce.

"I can't do that."

"I think you can," Boyce said, and he lifted a hand, holding it out towards Nida.

The man is radiant, standing there, his pure white robe making seem to glow against the black marble stairs. White, the only unblemished color in the room, the only one seemingly unaffected by what had just passed. It's a better color, Nida thinks, than the red of the blood everywhere around him, or the black of the stone, or the navy blue of his ruined uniform, or the band of pale blue wrapped around his arm and stained by his own blood. Part of his mind says that there's an angle there, holding out his hand, offering him everything he'd never had before, and everything he'd never have a chance at again. Power, glory, recognition, and most of all, life. A tempting offer. More tempting than he could believe.

Do it. He can save us. And all he wants in return is everything I am.

Carefully Nida lays Elijah's body aside before struggling to his feet. His weapons are left behind as he staggers across the room towards the vision of white and black so deep that it's almost hypnotizing. Except no matter how far he walks the blood is still there. In the air, in his mouth, on his hands. And the clarity is rapidly slipping out of his grip, dissolving into a flat out panic, a panic that he knew would make him foolish.

"Come, Heir, take my hand. You will guide us all to where we belong, will give us the thing we were promised. You shall be among our people once more, as you were always meant to be. And together we will find Hyne and take what is ours. We shall hold the power of a god, and everything we wish shall be ours."

The words make so much sense, so much sense, so much sense. Hadn't he been living in ignorance all these years at Garden? How could he not have seen it before now? All he had to do was take the offered hand and his destiny would unfold before him. He was the bridge between mortal and immortal. All he had to do to span that gap was put his mind to it, open himself to the voice that was his dreams, a voice that had always been waiting for him to submit to the will of Hyne, to the call of his fate.

Ten feet. Five feet. Three feet. He's scaling the stairs, each step taking more energy than the last, but also bringing him closer to the waiting hand. If he makes it he will fulfill everything he was supposed to be. Boyce will turn off the machine and heal him. Boyce will protect him from those who wanted to abuse his power. Boyce would give him a way to become what he was born to be.

"Come, son of Vascaroon. Be our prophet, our guide. We will be your guardians, and wipe the world clean that you might serve us all with your infinite knowledge."

Infinite knowledge, yes, he liked the sound of that. Already he was opening his mind to it and he could see a palace, somewhere, but one that was also a shrine and a grave at the same time. Within it was the power they wanted, needed. Mastery over life and death. He could bring Elijah back, and they could be together forever. He could bring back everyone that mattered to him. He could live forever with them in peace.

And then Boyce is recoiling, his hand moving away and he's hissing in annoyance. For a second Nida doesn't understand. He's ready, ready to be what he was meant to be. So why is Boyce pulling away? Doesn't he realize that Nida needed him? That he didn't have much time left without Boyce helping him?

Then he understands as Boyce is raising a fist, ready to knock him out, and Nida can't help but grin, maliciously. There's blood speckled on Boyce's face. He'd spit at the bastard. And the pressure in his mind to surrender was gone. It was like Elijah had said, a compulsion. Boyce had almost gained what he wanted because he'd been hurt, he'd been panicked. Too bad some part of Nida had still been thinking. Not that it would last long. He'd have one last moment of satisfaction before Boyce knocked him out and forced his will upon Nida while he was unconscious.

Except the blow doesn't come. Instead there's a loud bang, and Boyce stumbles back a step in shock. His eyes are huge, shocked, filled with wonder. He didn't know what was happening any more than Nida did. Except instead of turning to flee like Boyce did, Nida found himself turning back towards the entrance of the room, and what he found made him smile.

"Irvine," he gasped out, a smile in place. "There's a machine here, it..."

"I know. I dreamt of it," Irvine said, cutting him off. "And I'll deal with it in a minute. Right now there's something else to deal with."

Nida starts down the steps towards the other SeeD, only to be halted by what was said next.

"I've come for my grandfather."

There's a sharp inhalation from behind Nida, but he can't think much about it, not with how he's so busy staring at the sharp-shooter.

"Grandfa..."

"You're alive," Boyce gasped out, and he's suddenly pushing past Nida. Except the push is enough to knock Nida off his balance. There's only a moment to laugh over the indignity of it before he'd falling, and darkness consumes his mind.