"Where is Melia?" Fiora asked, eyes filled with worry. Her lips trembled as she said the words; they slipped off her tongue, wavering in the air, as if they knew the answer to come. Shulk wrapped an arm around her shoulders in comfort, but he too was nervous.

Dunban swept his eyes over the group gathered in his suite. The tension in the air was palpable and the man could hear his blood roaring in his ears. The truth in his mind was still unbelievable. How had it all unfolded in such a manner? He had just returned only minutes ago and already Fiora, Shulk, Sharla, Reyn and Riki had descended upon him. Glancing to the right, he saw Tyrea looking out the window, arms crossed, quiet. Serenity stood next to her, though did not engage, just offering her presence as comfort. But he could see the concern in her eyes; she too wanted to know what happened.

Just as Dunban opened his mouth to begin, the door slammed open. In the doorway were James and Elrich. Before the Homs knew it, Elrich had him by the shirt collar. "Where is the Empress? You said you'd bring her back!" Elrich growled. His grip tightened but Dunban did not feel the pressure on his throat. He was numb to the pain. It was no comparison to what was buried in his heart.

"If you hurt h—"

"Elrich, stop. Let Dunban speak." James said, putting a hand on his friend's arm. Elrich shot an unsatisfied glance at his partner but released his grip on Dunban's collar.

Readjusting the cloth, the man cleared his throat. Where to begin? Despite the fact that it had only happened an hour or so ago, it felt like a lifetime. Could he remember everything? Not just the end? An end that replayed over and over again in his mind.

Anger pulsated through his chest and he steeled himself, forcing the emotion down, grinding it out in his gut. He tightened his stomach closed his eyes. Now was not the time to get emotional.

After a moment, he opened his eyes and began the story.

He'd woken up alone in her bed. Not that he was entirely surprised as it had happened before. His hand reached out to her side of the bed; it was faintly warm. Sitting up, he frowned. It should have been warmer. Turning his head towards the washroom, the man didn't hear the water running for a shower. Swiveling his head to the left, Dunban looked to see if there were any lights on in the parlor, shining under the door. But there were none, just darkness. Suspicious, he rose from the bed, and walked out into the parlor, unconcerned of his lack of clothes (he was, after all, only in boxers). The balcony doors were open, a slight breeze lifting the curtains off the ground. While the cold air slithered over his skin, goosebumps populating in its wake, the man began to survey the room. It was eerily quiet; something wasn't right.

As his feet stepped over the plush carpet, Dunban turned on one of the lamps by the sofa. He hoped to see the young woman sitting quietly amongst the inanimate furniture, deep in contemplation, but she was not there. Her long silvery hair did not catch his eye or the soft pink of her night dress. But something else did: three creme colored envelopes sitting primly on her desk. As he moved closer to the mahogany workspace, he saw that one addressed to him.

His stomach clenched.

Swallowing, Dunban grabbed a letter opener in the upper right corner and slit the top of the envelope with the small blade. His instincts told him there was no time to waste, though the hammering of his heart said otherwise. The truth was, he feared the contents of the letter. Whatever was inside was dangerous. As he slept, something had happened to the Empress and he had no idea what it was. But he couldn't speculate nor could he waste anymore time. The man pulled out the letter and began to read. A cold chill came over his body as he read and reread the letter. The hand that held the letter began to tremble. The words she had written to him were both thoughtful and despairing, asking for forgiveness. She had Hypnotised him and left without a word to her bodyguards. The Empress said she knew the risks, and needed to go in order to save everyone.

She had incapacitated him. She had left without word. She had deliberately thrown herself into a trap.

Crumpling the letter in his fist, Dunban slammed his hand down on the desk. Pain rippled through his fist, but he didn't care.

It wasn't that he didn't think Melia couldn't take care of herself. But Nae'ell...she was a different breed of evil. What if Nae'ell took her hostage? Or worse?

He couldn't think like that.

How could she do this? How could she shut him out? They could have created a plan. A way to save everyone and a way to keep her from meeting Nae'ell alone. But now there were no options, only one course of action. Dunban had to go after Melia.

The door flung open. James and Elrich rushed in, most likely alarmed by Dunban's outburst. They scanned the parlor looking for their monarch. Seeing her nowhere, James went straight to Dunban.

"Where's the Empess?"

Dunban pointed to the other two envelopes. James and Elrich grabbed each, ripping them and reading the letters with speed.

"She's gone." James murmured. "

To meet Nae'ell alone." Dunban rolled his fist on the desk, cracking his knuckles as he did so.

"We need to go after her."

"The two of you need to find the bombs. I'll go after Melia." The Homs looked at each of them, determination in his eye.

"This isn't the time to play hero." Elrich snapped, his eyes shooting daggers at Dunban.

Dunban growled, "There's no time for this. You two know the Villa's grounds like the back of your hand. You can rally the Royal Guard to help find the bombs. That takes time. Time we do not have."

Elrich clenched his jaw but said nothing. He knew the logic was sound.

None of them said anything for a minute. Then James opened his mouth. "Alright. But you bring her back." It wasn't so much of a question as it was a statement. Dunban knew those words were more a threat than anything.

But it wasn't needed. If he failed...

"I will."

James and Elrich disappeared out of the front door as quickly as they'd come. Dunban went back to the bedroom to throw on his clothes. Briefly, the man wondered what the two bodyguards made of his appearance, the lack of clothes. But he couldn't worry about that now. Now was not the time to consider such things.

Questions ran through his mind as he slid on his pants and shirt. What was Nae'ell's end game? To kill Melia? That seemed the only plausible answer; the only reason why she would want to meet the Empress out in the wilderness alone. Just thinking about it made him grind his teeth. And when had that devil of a woman put bombs in the Villa? Surely, she would have been seen. Did that mean there were more dead bodies hidden? He hoped not as he slid the shirt over his head, now fully dressed.

Draping his cape over his paralyzed arm, Dunban's eyes stole a glance at the bed. The memory of what had happened between him and Melia a mere few hours ago flashed before his eyes and his blood warmed. Her voice resonated in his ears; the sounds she made as her body moved against him. She was so beautiful in the lamplight; her silver hair adding an effervescent quality to her appearance. Those blue eyes observed him, watching his every move, then closing as she let go and bestowed her trust upon him. Her remembered her pink lips against her pale skin, wearing a smile that made his hear flip in his chest.

He had to get her back.

Dunban didn't even remember leaving the Villa. His mind was focused on a singular objective, and everything else faded away. As the Homs walked down the hallway towards the exit, his pace increasing with each step, a figure flashed in front of him.

"What's going on?" Tyrea demanded as she kept pace with him. The lights of the Villa were ablaze, the Royal Guard rushing down the hallways searching for the alleged bombs. The inhabitants started to emerge from their suites wearing expressions of confusion and anxiety.

For a brief moment, he thought about not telling Melia's step sister. But he knew that would be wrong. After all, Tyrea was Melia's last familial connection. And from what he'd observed, the two were becoming close, even if neither would admit it. "It's Melia. She's gone to meet Nae'ell at Hovering Reef 9 alone."

"Tell me you're lying." Tyrea said. He turned his head to catch a glimpse of shock flicker in her face before it smoothed into blankness. He shook his head. "That idiot." Tyrea muttered. "I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not. You need to help find the bombs."

"Don't bullshit me. You need someone to fly the shuttle. I'm going with you."

Dunban caught a glimpse of Fiora's flaxen hair at the end of the hall. He had to leave before she saw him. He couldn't risk her following him and insisting on coming. It was selfish, but Dunban needed to keep her out of danger. He couldn't worry about both Fiora and Melia.

"Fine. Let's go."

The pair rushed out of the Villa, accelerating their steps as quickly as possible. Once again, Dunban refused to register the scenery as it passed by him. Those minutes of travel did not imprint upon his mind, only questions of Melia's wellbeing and safety. Images of her in his arms floated through his mind: the softness of her skin, the smell of her rose perfume, the pleasant murmurs of their pillow talk. But the recollections disappeared as Dunban ran through the Great Hall.

"Why did you let her go alone?" Tyrea demanded as they turned right.

"Do you think I would have? She Hypnotised me and left."

Tyrea's eyes went wide and she laughed. "Oh my god. Melia put a spell on you. That is fantastic!"

Dunban glared at the Homs Entia. "It is not. Now she's in danger."

"Oh, come on. You have to admit that it was pure genius. I didn't realize her to be a trickster." Tyrea jeered. "Wait. If she Hypnotised you, does that mean you were in bed with her?"

Dunban set his mouth into a line and she gasped mockingly. There was no chance he would comment on his bed habits with Tyrea right now. Or ever.

"You were! My, my, Dunban. I did not realize your relationship had progressed to such a level." Tyrea taunted gleefully. "I cannot wait to discuss with my dear sister."

Close to snapping, Dunban thought better of it. What if this were Tyrea's way to cope with the current situation? It may be her way of dealing with the imminent danger to her sister. The man tossed a sidelong glance at the female but her face betrayed none of the fear, just that annoying grin. And yet, if she truly didn't care about the fate of the Empress, why was she here, next to him racing to save Melia?

A few minutes later, they were at the landing pad. Silver shuttles gleamed in the moonlight, lining each side of the runway, waiting to be boarded and flown out into the night. Dunban and Tyrea rushed to the first on the right, clamoring up the ramp and into the body of the aircraft. The Homs Entia wasted no time and jumped into the pilot's seat, switching on a few nobs as Dunban retracted the ramp and sat in the co-pilot seat. He watched her hands move in a flurry over the switchboard, her brows knitted together in concentration. The man strapped himself into the chair, busying himself with the straps to drown out the pressure building in his chest. Every second wasted put Melia was in greater danger.

Finally, Tyrea punched in a few instructions into the bright blue control panel on the silver dashboard, and the shuttle lifted off the grounds. With a few more button pushes, the aircraft reversed away from the landing bay, now floating over the open sea. The purr of the engines filled his ears, sending vibrations all throughout his body. Then Tyrea hit the gas, speeding through the darkness, away from the bright lights of the Diamond City. It was faster than Dunban had ever traveled before, feeling his body push into his chair and heart drop into his stomach. A wave of nausea flooded him, but he kept it at bay, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard the air rip as the shuttle flew through it, b-lining for the Hovering Reef 9.

He needed to distract himself from the sickness and claustrophobia. He dived into memories of his encounters with Melia, regardless of the fears they wrought in his mind. Sitting with her at breakfast; taking walks in the Villa; embracing at Prison Island; kissing in bed. Dunban's heart wrenched in his chest and he rolled his shoulders, attempting to release the tension built up in his upper body. How much longer would the journey take? How much longer until he could see the woman who held his heart? Unfortunately, the Homs knew there was nothing he could do. He could only wait until they arrived at their destination. There was no point in stressing. And yet that was all he could do.

Minutes passed, seemingly like hours. But the aircraft began to slow and Dunban open his eyes, focusing on the view as they reached Hovering Reef 7. As they flew by it, Dunban caught sight of another shuttle up ahead.

Melia.

"Shit." Tyrea muttered then gunned the aircraft forward, past Hovering Reef 8, where the shuttle floated in the air, lifeless. As they approached Hovering Reef 9, they could see two figures on the ground, shots of ether streaking the air around and in between them. Dunban froze; Nae'ell and Melia were locked in battle. His worst fears confirmed.

"Tyrea..." He urged.

"I'm going as fast as I can." She snapped.

The Homs undid his restraints and rushed to the window, desperate to see the action unfold. He could barely make out their faces as Tyrea lowered the shuttle on the far edge of the floating island. His gut churned as ice and fire collided, the two combatants exchanging blows. How many more before he could run and help her?

"TYREA!"

"GO!"

The shuttle hit the ground with a thud and he rushed to pull the lever. The ramp began to unfold, but Dunban jumped out without waiting, dropping to the dirt and sprinting.

Up ahead, he saw Melia struggled to rise, standing on the edge of the cliff.

Dunban raced forward, twelve feet away.

Nae'ell put her hands out.

He pushed himself faster, nine feet away.

A green gust of wind expelled from her hands.

Six feet.

It hit Melia straight in the chest. She cried out.

And fell over the edge.

His heart stopped; four feet.

"MELIA! MELIA!"

He closed the distance and reached the cliff, eyes frantic to find her as his strangled cries clogged the air.

But she had disappeared, swallowed up by the blackness.

She was gone.

Silence. It was deafening.

"YOU BITCH!"

He turned. Tyrea had tackled Nae'ell to the ground. She was on top of the villain, her fists landing blow after blow mercilessly to Nae'ell's face and body; Tyrea's screams filled the air, echoing in his ears, furious and unintelligible.

Immobilized, Dunban watched silently. His mind could not compute what had just occurred. Over and over again his mind replayed the moment: the gust of wind hitting her, her body dropping away.

He hadn't saved her. And she died.

His lungs wheezed as a lump grew in his throat. Eyes focusing and unfocusing, Dunban's mind spiraled, trying to grasp onto some bit of hope. Some chance she would still be alive. Maybe he would turn around and she would burst forth in a cloud of smoke, having outwitted Nae'ell with some ether spell of invisibility. Or maybe she had flown underneath the wreath to deceive Nae'ell into thinking the Empress was dead.

But Dunban knew that it was impossible. Melia had fallen into the pit and was most likely dissolved into ether. Her being broken down into molecules and dispersed through the world. She was no longer had a physical presence.

And she was forever lost to him.

Melia. The first woman he had...

The man swallowed, unable to finish the thought. His eyes grew hot but he pressed the tears back into his sockets, refusing to let them out. If he did, he would lose what was left of his control. But it was too much. The hole in his heart widened with each moment of comprehension, the reality hitting every cell in his body, drowning them in anguish. Misery threatened to overcome him; the heart ache becoming unbearable.

But screams of grief invaded his torment, bringing him back to the present. Tyrea's fists were dotted with blood, each downward stroke becoming slower than the last.

"Stop Tyrea!" The Homs rushed over to her and pulled the Homs Entia off of Nae'ell.

"LET ME GO!" Tyrea fought him, struggling against his arm locked around her waist. But it was useless. Dunban held steadfast. After a moment, Tyrea stopped altogether. She stopped moving and screaming, becoming limp like a doll in his arms.

It seemed she had come to the same conclusion as he had. None of it mattered anymore. They had failed to rescue Melia.

Only inches away, Nae'ell laughed, making no attempt to rise from her position. The sounds dripped with triumph and Dunban resisted the urge to reach out and put his hands around her throat, cutting off her airway and strangling her to death. It was so tempting, to kill the woman who had taken away Melia. Blood pooled down her face and purple bruises started to appear, but she didn't care. He could see it in her eyes: she had won.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart faltering as it attempted to stay strong.

He would never hold Melia in his arms again.

The ground began to shake beneath him before the despair set in. He opened his eyes wide in alarm and adrenaline jolted through his body. A rumble. Once, twice, three times. Dunban stumbled and Tyrea released herself from his grasp to steady herself. Cautiously, Dunban walked over to the edge of the cliff once more, trying to make out in the darkness the origin of the tremors. Was it coming from the ether pocket? Apprehension washed through him; what new horror would it inflict upon them?

Something flashed before his eyes, darting out of the darkness of the black void and into the sky above. It rushed past him so quickly, he couldn't make out what it was. Stepping backward, the man tried to focus on the unknown entity. It had stopped its upward ascent, hovering ten feet above the floating island but was still shrouded in darkness. Clouds passed overhead, making way for the dim moonlight to shine through the darkened night sky. The being was illuminated for Dunban to see.

The light glinted off the metallic turquoise skin; large, spindly blue and purple wings stretched out behind it, shimmering in the moonlight. An elongated torso ended in a large fin, pink feather-like tentacles hanging off the leathery bottom. Its head was circular with two hornlike extensions protruding from either side, silver tresses hanging off each like the frayed ends of a tapestry. A flesh collar of lavender circled its neck. From what Dunban could tell, its eyes were indiscernible. But he knew exactly what this creature was.

A Telethia.

"No..." Dunban whispered.

"Oh...my god." Tyrea breathed behind him.

Rolling on her side to get a better look, Nae'ell gasped and cackled. "The irony! It's magnificent! They'll kill her. Her own people will hunt her down and kill her. Just what the bitch deserves."

His heart dropped into his stomach. What was she talking about? Surely not...

Behind him, he heard a thud. But Dunban continued to stare into the sky at the creature that watched them so closely. It loomed, making no sudden movements. It simply floated there, assessing and observing them.

Dunban wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, but did not draw it. There had been no Telethia sightings at all in the weeks prior to the ether pocket's discovery. If they were being born from the void, there would be more of them flying around in the Eryth Sea.

Did that mean...

Unfathomable.

And yet was it?

"Melia?" He called out.

But the Telethia made no sign of whether it understood or not. It stared down at the Homs, a silent specter in the sky. A tremor of fear invaded Dunban's body, as if waiting for it to attack and put forth a final blow that would end his life. Then it turned and flew away into the night sky, leaving him behind.

Dunban fell silent as his story came to an end, all eyes of the group glued to him. Their shocked expressions said almost everything he was feeling.

Almost.

No one moved or breathed. Utter silence.

And then Fiora burst out.

"MELIA IS A TELETHIA?"