"A long time ago, a traveler came to me carrying a newborn child. His face was covered in soot and his clothes were burnt to tatters. The child he carried in his arms... was you." – Elder Topapa

Luneth stood on the ledge of the cliff, armor and mind of the Dragoon pushing him to leap.

Arc hesitated behind him, but Luneth couldn't imagine why. They'd pulled stunts like this tons of times before in much worse circumstances. And this time, there were no goblins, gremlins, or green folk of any kind to chase them down to the bottom.

Perfectly safe.

He ran and jumped.

The ground disappeared beneath him.

His armor jostled in the raging winds about them but held steady. Each job sphere harbored a soul within that didn't quite control the armor or robes or whatever the user wore, but instead guided his steps and motions. A built-in safety guide, almost like. The cold battered his eyes and bit through his gloves. The rush of the wind made him feel like he flew through open air.

Skirt flapping madly in the swirling winds, Luneth's armor tugged at his legs and arms, just slightly too tight to be comfortable. But if it were any looser, he suspected it would catch on all the wrong things, like the branches that they often encountered in the forests.

Luneth followed his instincts as the ground came closer and braced his spear against the impact of the fall, legs and arms bending just enough.

The spear head punched into dirt and Luneth's feet smoothly landed beside it.

He cheered. Now he knew how to feel like a bird without to grow wings!

But where was Arc? Luneth looked up, still breathing hard. The wind down here became a mere breeze that ruffled his hair and, no longer having the adrenaline to heat his body, chilled the sweat brought by the rush up to the ledge in the first place.

After a moment, Arc appeared and slammed his spear into the dirt about thirty yards away.

"That was EPIC!" Luneth shouted before running to join him. Arc looked at him, face hidden in his helmet because the wimp wanted to play it safe.

Arc yanked his helmet off as Luneth barreled into him, armor clashing against Arc's. Metal sang on metal and Luneth took him in a chokehold. Arc made a strangled cry.

"Look at what you just did!" Luneth shouted. "That must have been a hundred meters up! I was almost afraid you were gonna kill yourself there! I didn't even have to heal your broken legs this time! Oh, wow, we've gotta tell Nina and Topapa! They're going to die when they hear what we just did!"

"Ow," Arc hissed as Luneth let go. "Luneth-"

"Let's do it one more time before we tell Nina and she bans us from this part of the country."

"I'm not so sure this is such a good idea…"

"Of course not. It's a great idea! Why didn't I think of this before? These jobs have all these powers hidden inside that can be used for so much more than killing fiends! We can do shows and sports and all sorts of odd jobs! The possibilities are endless!"

"I don't think that's what the Crystals intended us to use these powers for."

He's right, the Crystals whispered in his head. It used to be a strange sensation, having their voices murmuring in his mind. But he got used to it, and then after some more time, it actually grew comforting, having a constant friend nestled in his head.

"We can do tightrope and acrobatic shows! Imagine it! It'll lift everyone's spirits!"

Arc opened his mouth, but hesitated. "There are a lot of sad people in the world, aren't there?"

"So many!" Luneth said, scrambling into a tree and plopping down on a branch. Changed out of Dragoon and into the freedom of his sweater and vest. "I say we make them all happy by training lots and performing crazy shows. Become a traveling circus of a sort! Just think of the crowds cheering our names!"

"Can I talk to you about the journal, first?"

"Pff," Luneth scoffed, "we've got loads of time. It'll probably take at least a week to get my spin kick down. And you can't do a finale without a spin kick."

Arc cleared his throat and handled his bag. The armor evaporated from his person to reveal his weathered, green coat. "Aga wrote a lot about the east but focused on the cultures there. Like festivals. Apparently they use fish as currency in some parts of the world there."

"And?"

"It's interesting. We've seen people use so many many forms of currency, and yet I've yet to meet a person who would use something living. I prepared a lot of information to submit to Saronia's archives. Professor Siem will be happy."

Luneth fell back against the tree. "Still boring." He had given up reading when he realized most of the journal talked about scenery and landscapes.

Arc settled against the trunk of the tree and pulled out the journal from his bag. "He talks about being followed in the last part – I thought you would like to know about that."

"Hm?" Luneth leaned over his branch. "Followed by what?"

Arc flipped a couple of pages. "Looks like he picked up on something just before he died.

"'I assumed myself to be the goal of my pursuer. I was wrong.' He-… this is a different ship. He's traveling by foot at this point and references his craft as a personal airship. It's not the transport ship that we were found on." Arc chewed on his lip. "I should have mentioned – he's been traveling by foot this whole time."

Luneth quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

"And that changes everything!" Arc flipped through the past several pages. "He doesn't speak like someone who's trying to catch a transport ship to the Continent – he doesn't even mention it. He just talks about going west. The floating continent isn't… well, it's not directly west. But I should think if he was originally bound for this place, then it would have come up once or twice."

"Unless he just wandering about and didn't mean to take the ship."

Arc frowned. "Perhaps. But I need that missing volume. Maybe he wrote down his itinerary in there."

"What does the rest of it say?"

Arc flipped more pages. "Something about chasing a man, fighting him… give me a second."

The man tracking us had also vanished, but not well enough. I had become used to Arc's cries in the night, and rose to awareness only moments after they had gone. My instincts, as it turned out, were not so slowed as I had feared, and the tracker had hardly gone from our camp before I caught up and engaged him. He gave Arc to a soldier under his command, and we fought. He was fierce, and well-skilled with the longsword.

But not as well-skilled as I. I bested him, but in my haste did not strike the final blow. I followed the soldier to their airship – never have I seen its kind! Great pipes blew puffs of flame into the balloon that would hold it aloft, and I cannot imagine the inferno they would breathe to carry it into the sky!

But enough of that. It was no great feat to catch up to the carrier, as Arc's cries could then be heard for miles around. Nor was it any notable act to cut the soldier down in his tracks, and leave him to bleed out as I retrieved my son.

That is where the situation became strange.

I did not – and do not – know what these people wanted with my son, but as I stood by their ship I could hear beyond Arc's wailing, to another cry much like his, coming from aboard the vessel. I must admit, I was tempted to ignore it and leave the place far behind, but found I could not. For if they had kidnapped another child, what sort of man would I be to let them go?

So, Arc in hand, I boarded the ship. The top deck was empty, and there was no clear way to go down, but I could yet hear the other child muffled by walls of wood and metal.

My sword made a fine entrance to the inside of the ship.

I did not expect there to be so many soldiers under the kidnapper's command. Though judging by their combative skill, many of them were likely engineers for the enormous airship.

The underdeck was even less straightforward in design than above, but my sword resolved that, as well, and shortly I had found the source of the other cries. As I expected, they did indeed belong to a child about Arc's age. Yet the mystery did not end there, for there were two other children sleeping beside to the one crying, one of them with white hair that spoke of a fae lineage. The kidnapper also had white hair, as well as strange markings on his face, and I cannot help but wonder if the two are related.

What could I do? I could not presume any of the children belonged there. I took them all with me. I did not see the kidnapper on my way back, nor did I find him lying in wait shortly thereafter, when I finally reached the Gosuke.

While I am relieved to finally have a method of travel more suited to the transportation of four toddling children, I cannot help but look over my shoulder. With his airship out of commission – I am confident I did severe, if not irreparable, damage – and himself without a crew, the kidnapper surely cannot follow me. But as yet I have no clue pertaining to his mission, and that is most troubling. For while two of these children seem normal enough – a fair-haired boy, and a red-haired girl – I am growing increasingly certain that the white-haired boy is of strong fae descent, if not entirely hailing from their realms.

I shall keep the other boy and the girl with Arc, but this one must stay in the east until I can determine if he is at least partially human. For that, my location is quite fortunate, for I can think of none better to seek counsel of than the overseer of Matataki Village.

I have not kept this journal as I should. I have learned so much, and now have no time to record it. I am drawing close to the lands of the West, but Gaspard's ship is closing too quickly. I can hear the fire from here. I will not make it.

To whomever may find this journal, my name is Aga Pendragon.

Should these children survive, and I not, the name of the red-haired one is Refia. The fair-haired one is Ingus. The white-haired one is Luneth.

The brown-haired one is my son, Arc.

To Renee and Toan, I am sorry.

Luneth started to doze off. Arc glanced to Luneth and back to the journal. Back to Luneth. Back to the journal. Fae lineage? He somehow missed that the first time. Topapa had mentioned the possibility, but also summarily dismissed it.

"We were all kidnapped," Arc finally said. "None of us belonged on that ship."

Luneth mumbled something, regaining consciousness. "Buh – kidnapped? From where?"

Arc shook his head and held the journal out to Luneth, who dropped from his place in the trees.

"Don't know," Arc said.

"… This one must stay in the east… What's that supposed to mean?"

"I guess he meant to take you back. He was under the impression that your connection to the fae was stronger than it is."

"I got that. Why does he want to drop me off in Mahwanaku?"

"Maybe it's a fae realm."

Luneth frowned. "That would have been lame, being left alone with a bunch of fairies."

"Instead of on a crashing ship?"

Luneth shrugged.

"Well," Arc said. "Given that's all, we should probably-" he grabbed for the journal, but Luneth pulled away.

"Wait. I have an idea."

Arc sighed. "What idea?"

"It doesn't say what happened, right?"

"No."

"He could still be out there."

"It's theoretically possible. But highly improbable. The odds of him still being alive require him surviving the crash, escaping before Cid found him and therefore subsisting despite what would have to be grievous injuries, and finding somewhere safe to reccuperate. Even if he survived, I think he would have found us by now."

"So?" Luneth waved the journal high above his head as if trying to keep it out of Arc's reach. As if Luneth was that much taller. "I say we take the journal, take the Nautilus, and we go track this guy down."

"How? He gives absolutely no indication at the end of where he may have ended up. He could have drowned at the bottom of the ocean for all we know."

"Come on," Luneth said. "Since when were you so easily scared off?"

"I'm not scared, I'm-!"

"Chicken!"

"I'm not a chicken!"

"You're wimping out! You can't say that it's impossible, right?"

Arc hesitated. "Impossible, no. Nigh-impossible, yes."

"Well, that's just perfect. Making the nigh-impossible possible is our job description. The Crystals, they know what they're doing, right?"

"I don't think the Crystals meant for us to go chase after delirious chocobos, Luneth."

"No, they want us to help people. And what else are we doing if we're not helping people? Even each other?"

"… Maybe."

"See? I knew you'd come around. Let's go get packing! I am so ready to get out of here!"

The cave was different. Toan had rarely been in here before the Dark Genie came, and he'd never noticed how it felt then. After Dran was possessed, this cave became his first encounter with what Aga described in his journal – that unnerving, warmth-stealing phantom that lurked where fae creatures had red eyes.

But it wasn't like that now. Now, the cave was simply cool, and bats fluttered away at their approach. The halls were still an ever-shifting maze, but the staircase doors were all open, and Toan could see various creatures calmly going about their day in the caverns.

The Macho brothers were in one of those caverns, apparently having a weight-lifting contest with a group of dashers. Toan slowed down as he passed – those two had a few stories of times where some creature or another in the cave suddenly snapped and went on a rampage. Usually the stories were about how they would fight until Dran could intervene and calm the fairy, but there was one time that didn't work, and the brothers had had to kill a friend of theirs – a rockanoff, if Toan recalled correctly.

Was it possible for that to happen to Ruby? Or to Osmond, or Xiao?

He shook his head and jogged to catch up with Mom. He didn't know, really, what it took for the Dark Genie to be able to possess someone, and how it was different between humans and fairies – because he was pretty sure it was different between humans and fairies – or even where the line between them lay. Because Xiao certainly wasn't a fairy, or a human, but how did the shape-change potion affect that? What about Osmond – was he a fairy, or something else?

And Ruby… well, the Dark Genie was a fairy, so she probably was too.

Well, what did it matter? If one his friends was ever possessed, Toan could just deal with them the same way he and Xiao had dealt with Dran, and the same way they and Goro had dealt with Master Utan. There was no problem they couldn't solve when they all worked together.

And very few that Toan couldn't solve on his own.

"What are you thinking about?" Mom asked.

Toan hesitated, before answering honestly, "Just more things to call me insane for."

"Still, I'd like to know."

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Mom set her jaw and looked away. They walked in silence through the corridors, the air between them hanging tense. Xiao padded along ahead of them, somehow seeming comfortable in spite of the taut nerves between Toan and his mother.

At last, they reached the final level. Here, Mom paused and Toan stepped forward to push open the door. He resisted the urge to draw his dagger, but couldn't stop from grasping its hilt. He knew Dran would be normal. Kind. Wise. As he was before the village was destroyed. As he had been since it had been restored.

But Toan remembered sprinting along the outside edge of this circular chamber, desperate to stay away from the fire that his village's protector rained down. And somewhat regretting his decision to leave the Chronicle Two home - after his mother had written him off as a nutcase, he'd opted to avoid letting her know about the incredibly powerful weapon that remained in his possession.

He took two deliberate steps inside and exhaled. The chamber was empty now, the air still. Calm. It didn't feel wrong, but he couldn't relax. The skin on his arms ached with the memory of burns, healed long ago.

If it never happened, how could he still feel this?

A shadow appeared in an alcove far above them, and Toan instinctively moved in front of his mother. She looked concerned, but in a distracted sort of way – thinking about things in the village, probably, rather than Dran. Because why should she be worried about Dran? He had only ever been a guardian to Norune.

The giant, fluffy dog-like Beast leaped from his alcove, his beating wings sending powerful gusts of wind through the chamber as he descended to the floor. The scent of the cave's spring water whirled around Toan, and his anxiety vanished as quickly as a scrap of paper thrown into a bonfire. He pulled his hand from his dagger's hilt and smiled as Dran touched down.

Dran plopped onto his stomach, head cushioned by his paws on the stone floor, so that he only needed to look down slightly to meet the humans' eyes, "I've felt the stirrings of bitterness and fear in the village. I'm glad you've come to me – what happened?"

Xiao pushed her head against Toan's shin, but he didn't speak. He didn't know what to say. How was he supposed to explain–

"Toan says the village was destroyed last year," Mom said, "He's speaking of traveling in time and seeing two moons in the sky. Please talk some sense into him."

Toan held in a groan.

"Mrrow!" Xiao meowed.

Dran looked at the cat, "Is that so?"

"Purrl, purrl, meow!"

"I see, I see."

"Meoww, mew. Mrrow–"

"Say no more. I understand."

Mom looked between the giant dog and the small cat, "Um, what…?"

"This is very concerning," Dran said, nodding sagely, "Very concerning indeed. Toan, you say you fought the Dark Genie itself?"

He fought the slight tremor of fear in his hands. "Yes." Silently begged for Dran to believe him.

"Interesting."

Mom frowned, "Dran?"

The Divine Beast closed his eyes for a few moments, then opened them again, "Renee, your son is not delusional."

Toan let out a breath and his hands stilled. Although, Mom… did not look happy.

Dran continued, "It is highly unusual for a human to remember another timeline, but there are certain conditions that allow it. It is… difficult to explain the workings of time to mortals, but at least know this – Toan, Xiao. The events you experienced never occurred, with the exception of the moment that caused the timeline to split. It is also true, Renee, that those experiences remain, and they are as valuable in this timeline as they were in the one in which they occurred. Do you understand?"

Toan nodded, understood enough. Mom, on the other hand, went still as a statue – a normal statue, that was. Not like the ones that roamed these halls.

At length, Mom muttered, "Then, Aga… he wasn't mad?"

"I never did meet him, Renee. I don't know his circumstances."

"The Fairy King told him what was going to happen," Toan explained, "All the things that got erased. Then he – Aga. My, um, father – took my brother to the west."

"Terra's bowels," Dran breathed, "A carry-over. Something stopped the ripples of cause and effect from reaching Aga. There are very few things with the power to do that, and the good ones would avoid it unless they were in dire need. Oh, this is bad…"

Finally, something Toan could understand. He took a step closer to the Divine Beast, "What can we do?"

"I would start by tracking down your father. Renee, do you know where he might be found?"

Mom shook her head. Xiao gave Toan a wide-eyed look, but he turned away from her. He knew what she was thinking – if they were right, then finding his father wouldn't be the hard part.

The hard part would be prying answers out of his cold, dead body.

"He was a wanderer to the end," Mom said. All of her agitation seemed to have melted away, replaced with tired acceptance, "It's been more than ten years – he could be anywhere in the world, and if he's not dead, then he's probably still on the move. Last I knew, he was taking Arc somewhere far to the west, but who knows if he ever made it?"

"That's where we'll go, then," Toan said. He wasn't sure what to expect out there, beyond the ocean – though Aga spoke of the lands to the west several times in his journal, he left a surprising amount to the imagination.

"How?" Mom asked, "How do you plan to do that? You need an airship to cross the ocean."

"Aga was able to build one practically on his own," Toan replied, "I'm sure Queens will have something that can do the job."

"… I suppose."

"I'll be fine, Mom."

His mother gave him a long look, then pulled him into a tight hug, "Promise."

"I promise."

"When will you go?" Her voice shook.

"It's going to be a long trip. We'll leave in the morning."

"We?"

"Meow."

Mom scrubbed at her face, "Oh."