April 2nd, 1820, Rolfsen Estate, Daines-Horse Basin, Burmecia

10:30

"They are breathtaking... aren't they?" Sigrunn sighed, absently contemplating her late mentor's cherry tree. It had by that point shed most of its flowers, painting the garden a pale shade of pink. Fratley swallowed the lump in his throat, and hesitatingly sat next to her.

"Indeed..." he answered after an awkward moment of silence. She sure had changed since Puck's funeral, the knight thought; before that fateful night she had been an arrogant, naïve and boundlessly energetic wunderkind. One of Sir Wulfweard's most promising students ever. Now she was a shell-shocked, barely functional shadow of her former self.

"He used to say... that life is beautiful because it's fleeting..." she hiccuped, crying silently. Her lips were slightly parted and her jaw was quivering. "Bullshit... I want him back..."

She was so absorbed in her own misery that she didn't even register Fratley's hand gently settling on her shoulder.

"The Allfather blessed him with an honorable death..." he said, but his voice lacked conviction. "He has earned a place among the gods. We should be proud of him."

"That's not the point..! This was my fault... it should have been me!" Sigrunn exploded, shooting the knight a glassy-eyed glare before burying her face in her hands. "... What the hell are we supposed to do now, Fratley?"

The veteran dragoon's right ear perked up, and his lips curled into a smirk. "Maybe Sigfred has the answer to that question," he said, craning a look at a seemingly empty spot. "Welcome back, boy."

"Sorry... I didn't mean to intrude," the young bard sheepishly excused himself as he dispelled his invisibility charm.

"You might be invisible, but you're definitely not inaudible," the dragoon stated. "How was your trip? Could you contact Freya?"

Sigfred hesitated to answer.

"Yes, she... umm... didn't take the news very well..."

Fratley lowered his gaze. "Of course she didn't..." he sighed. "At least she's still safe."

"Yeeah... about that..."

The blond warrior opened his eyes so wide that Sigfred thought they would pop out of their sockets, crossed the garden in three strides and grabbed him by the shoulders. "She's safe... right?!"

"Dude, calm down!" the bard squawked. "Last time I saw her, she was boarding a strange airship!"

"A strange airship?! Where was she going?"

"I overheard she was off to visit Lord Gizamaluke, but that's all I know!" Sigfred answered. "By the way, I've also discovered what the chancellor was trying to hide the other night..."

"Huh?" Fratley and Sigrunn uttered in unison.

"... Treno launched a surprise invasion of Alexandria and came within inches of taking the capital," the musician explained. "They may have failed, but the citadel took some serious damage..."

Fratley let go of the Partisan, his face transfigured into a look of pure shock. "... What..?"

"It gets worse..." the bard added. "There's a growing rumor about Ulrich helping Bishop smuggle troops into Alexandria..."

"What do you mean smuggle troops?!" the knight asked, already feeling a little dizzy.

"The golem shipments that we discovered last week were meant for this," Sigfred explained. "This is bad, guys... if Burmecia is proven guilty of facilitating the attack, Garnet is going to need a pretty good reason not to declare war on us..."

"Did she say that?" Sigrunn exclaimed. "I can't believe she's threatening us after what we've done for her!"

"Yeah, but civil unrest is spreading like wildfire, and she's trying to prevent things from escalating," the bard retorted, to the other Partisans' astonishment. "It won't be long before she's forced to disclose that most golem caches were found in the Burmecian district... I saw them with my own eyes..."

"Going to war against a summoner..! what was he thinking..?!" Fratley thought, feeling an ominous chill running down his spine.

"There must be something we can do to stop this!" Sigrunn piped up. "Did she tell you anything else?"

"Um, she gave me a message for you, Fratley," the musician added.

"For me..?" the knight asked, a little surprised. "I'm listening..."

"It struck me as an ultimatum, but I have no idea what it actually means," Sigfred answered, and then cleared his throat. "A flaming salamander appeared, roaming spiritual mountains. Astute chieftains, terribly misled, ignobly challenged its associates. Two days later, four kingdoms were pointlessly ravaged."

"That was the corniest threat I've ever heard..." Sigrunn commented. "Idiot code, perhaps?."

"No. It's null cipher," the dragoon declared, producing a piece of paper and a charcoal pencil. "Sigfred, could you repeat that from the beginning, please?"

The bard obliged, and Fratley wrote down the sequence. "Oh gods..." he muttered once the decryption was complete.

"What? What does it mean?" Sigrunn impatiently asked.

"A lot of things, actually..." the dragoon answered. "The flaming salamander is none other than Amarant Coral, hero of the Mist War. Apparently he's somewhere in the Popos Heights plateau, and the queen is giving us forty-eight hours to contact him."

"Popos Heights?! How the hell are we supposed to find him there?!" Sigfred exclaimed. "The dragons will tear us a new one once they see us approaching!"

"And Lord Gizamaluke's temple is guarded by dragonslayers..."

"Besides, how can we be sure he's alive?" the bard added. "This is Popos freaking Heights we're talking about!"

"The sooner we get there, the better our chances of extracting him," the veteran knight concluded. "Alright. Sigfred, tell Brynhild to get the Sidewinder ready, we're leaving in an hour."

"W-We..?"

"Yes, Freddy, we. You'll help us infiltrate the plateau's airspace," Fratley declared, leaving no room for argument.

"... Right away, sir..." the bard sighed, heading for the hangar. "Aw, crap... here we go again..."

"Sigrunn, I need you to warn Astrid about this. The Senate must know what's going on," the blond dragoon ordered once Sigfred was out of earshot.

"But what if I... what if I turn into that thing again..?" she asked, trying to keep her jaw from quivering. "I almost killed Bryn and Freddy the other night... what if I screw everything up again?"

"You're Master Wulfweard's star pupil, Siggy, you can do this," Fratley answered. "Burmecia's future depends on it."

The young Partisan wiped her face with her sleeve and nodded.

"Consider it done," she answered, rising to her feet. "Please... take care out there."

April 2nd, 1820, Gizamaluke's cabin, Ginnungagap

Day 1

For an unspeakably powerful divinity, ancient protector and advisor of the Burmecian people, Lord Gizamaluke's house was extremely austere. His bedroom had next to no decoration, its contents mostly comprised of a single bed, two wooden chairs, an unconscious Genome and two Burmecians.

"Tch... he's burning with fever..." Freya stated, feeling Zidane's forehead with the back of her hand. "Tell me truth... will he make it..?"

"I can help him cope with his condition, but it's mostly up to him to save himself... the same goes for you," Gizamaluke answered as he packed his rustic pipe with tobacco and carefully tamped it down. Once he had finished the procedure, he angled an inquisitive look at the Burmecian. "Do you mind if l..?"

"Go ahead..." she answered, already used to the nicotine-laden atmosphere of Burmecian taverns. "I need to know... what's happening to us?"

"... To understand the answer to that question, you must first comprehend the true nature of Trance," Gizamaluke stated, lighting his pipe with a tiny fire spell. "Do you know why he's the only Genome who can naturally Trance?"

"Because he has an actual soul?" Freya ventured.

"He's not the only one who does," the deity retorted. "No matter how hard she tries, his sister will never spontaneously transform, yet she's definitely not an empty vessel."

"So... what's the difference between them?"

Gizamaluke smiled and exhaled an ethereal cloud of smoke. "Mist," he answered, watching his creation disperse into the air like a dream.

"Mist? But what about Kuja?" the dragoon countered. "He was exposed to it long before Zidane was!"

"That's not the point; Kuja was already a man when he visited Gaia for the first time..." he stated. "Fully self-aware souls are mostly immune to infestation, and thus unable to naturally develop Trance."

"Infestation?" Freya blurted out. "I knew the Mist could induce psychotic episodes, but I had no idea it could actually possess people!"

"lt's not an actual possession, it's a symbiotic relationship," Gizamaluke clarified. "The Mist is the spiritual equivalent of mincemeat; an heterogeneous amalgam of ectoplasm. Given their nature as parts of the Crystal, drifting spirits are naturally attracted to stabler souls, especially incomplete ones..."

"... That's why they invade other living beings... they're blindly trying to keep the cycle going!"

"Exactly! With most routes to the Crystal blocked by the lifa Tree, they began infesting the living, causing innumerable problems."

"Disgusting..." she uttered, feeling dirty on a metaphysical level. "So, how do we flush these things out of our bodies?"

"My dear, that would be tantamount to lobotomizing yourselves," he said, his visage ominously wreathed in smoke. "Once the fusion is complete, the parasite and its host become inseparable. Two sides of a coin. Extirpating it would only tear your mind asunder."

Freya blinked stupidly at him, feeling somewhere between cheated and utterly confused.

"I don't understand... I thought the Beast was a manifestation of the parasite!"

"Not at all. What you call the Beast is not an autonomous entity; it's just a warped defense mechanism," he explained. "When an infested host is subjected to extreme physical or emotional trauma, the parasite reacts like an adrenal gland of sorts, secreting vast amounts of spiritual energy..."

"The mother of all fight-or-flight responses..."

"Couldn't describe it better myself!" the god merrily concurred. "Gaia is a dangerous place after all, and Trance can be a game changer in a life-or-death situation."

"Only when it feels like collaborating," the Burmecian huffed. "Right now, I can recount half a dozen times I needed it, and it just didn't happen."

"That's because you've built up a remarkable tolerance to stress, but that doesn't mean you've made it through all those close calls unscathed," Gizamaluke explained, pausing to take another puff at his pipe. "Every single time you transform, a fraction of the energy released by the parasite remains in your system, unable to find a way out. This residual essence eventually rots and accumulates, creating tumor-like overgrowths that can become large enough to suffocate your soul if you keep accumulating traumatic experiences."

"Like a toxin buildup..."

"Precisely," the god agreed, craning a look at the unconscious Genome. "From that point on, they gradually invade the inner layers of the soul, warping it in nightmarish ways. The symptoms include violent mood swings, panic attacks, vivid hallucinations, and increasingly frequent psychotic episodes. The parasite interprets them as external threats and reacts inducing a Trance, thus creating a vicious cycle."

"I see... so there are no demons to vanquish," the knight concluded, utterly disheartened. "Except for those in our past..."

"I'm afraid you're right..."

"What happens if we run out of time?"

"You'll enter a state of permanent, yet increasingly unstable Trance. Once your parasites' reserves are exhausted, they will resort to torching your souls, amplifying your power to god-like levels at the cost of what remains of your bodies and minds," Gizamaluke explained.

"... How long do we have left?"

Before Gizamaluke could conjure an answer, Zidane started mumbling unintelligibly and stirring in his sleep. Alarmed, Freya dropped the conversation and held his hand, trying to calm him down.

"No... l didn't mean to... I'm sorry..!" he croaked, unwittingly sinking his fingernails into her skin. The knight winced, surprised by the sudden pain, but it was nothing she couldn't handle, so she soldiered on.

"Don't worry... l'm here," she whispered in his ear as his nightmares grew increasingly violent. "I won't let anyone hurt you, you hear me?"

"The screams... make them stop..!" he begged, grinding his teeth so hard that the dragoon thought they'd crack. Burning patches of fur began growing all over his body, and Freya understood, much to her horror, that she was standing right next to a live bomb.

"He's about to go feral!" she yelled, shooting a desperate look at the god, who had swiftly abandoned his chair and rushed to her side.

"Not in my house," he said, closing his eyes and performing a hand gesture that Freya found disturbingly familiar. His abandoned pipe suddenly went out, as if an unseen thief had stolen its fire, and the next thing she knew, the room had been plunged into an inky, impenetrable darkness. Only Gizamaluke remained visible, illuminated by the faint glow that radiated from his hand.

"A Night spell..!" the dragoon exclaimed, utterly bewildered. "You... you're under Reis's protection..!"

Gizamaluke chuckled, finding her ignorance endearing.

"... Alas, that was a long time ago," he answered, a nostalgic glint in his eye. "Now it's the other way around..."

Smiling, the god snapped his fingers, sending both Zidane and Freya into a deep, peaceful slumber.

April 2nd, 1820, Popos Heights, Burmecia

13:00

"Are you absolutely positive this is the place?" Brynhild worriedly asked, looking for a safe landing zone.

"It better be..!" Sigfred wheezed, barely able to sustain his airship-sized Vanish spell. "I won't... last much longer..!"

"The message clearly spelled 'Popos Heights', so it has to be," Fratley answered, as he unbuckled his seat belt. "Hang on in there Freddy! We're almost done..."

Completely drenched in sweat, the bard sarcastically raised his thumb.

"Bryn, as soon as I set foot outside, get the heck out of here quick," the knight ordered, grabbing his hiking backpack and halberd. "Come back tomorrow morning, I'll be right here, waiting for you. If l don't show up by noon..."

"We ain't leaving you behind, okay? So can it," the pilot huffed, earning an amused snort from Fratley. "... Are you sure this 'flaming' guy is worth the risk, though? Can't we just go ask Queen Garnet what the hell is going on?"

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport! It will be fun!" the dragoon joked. "Besides, l've yet to regain Alexandria's trust after my stint working for Ulrich."

"Guys, could you please shut the hell up and land?! I'm dying here!" Sigfred spat.

"I have no idea why you care about those assholes' opinion," Brynhild said as she scanned the forest below for signs of trouble.

"Because we've just started a hopeless war against those assholes, and they've got Eidolons on their side," the knight retorted.

"Fair enough..." she conceded as she carefully landed on a large clearing, pleasantly surprised by Fratley's willingness to curse. "Alright, here we are... please be careful out there..."

"I will. Thanks, Bryn," the knight replied as he made his way to the airlock.

As soon as the Sidewinder took to the skies, Fratley rushed for the relative safety of the forest. His plan was so simple that it didn't even sound like one: Locating Amarant's hideout without getting murderized along the way. Unfortunately, the threat of roaming Grand Dragons made aerial reconnaissance a suicidal proposition, so he had no other choice than doing it on foot.

"Master Wulfweard... I won't disappoint you this time," he thought, deftly climbing a tree to avoid detection.

Being a Burmecian (and an experienced dragonslayer, at that) sometimes had its advantages. His previous trips to Popos Heights, both as a student and as an instructor, had left him with an extensive knowledge of its flora, fauna and topography. Despite the disappearance of the Mist, many unspeakable horrors still prowled the Gaian wilderness, so he kept an eye peeled for threats as he silently jumped from tree to tree, scanning the forest floor for clues of his quarry's whereabouts.

A quiet, rattling noise alerted him to an unexpected presence, so he chose a tall branch as his perch and slowed his breathing to better blend in with his surroundings.

"What the..?" he thought, once the source of the sound became apparent: a lone lamia had ventured outside of the caverns that connected the plateau with what used to be Lord Gizamaluke's temple. A particularly funny cautionary tale came to his mind, so he bit back a chuckle to avoid blowing his cover and watched the serpentine abomination slither away, its shimmering scales reflecting the few sun rays that permeated the canopy.

krick... krick... SNAP!

Fratley gasped; the floor under the monster had suddenly collapsed under its weight, revealing a large spike pit.

STAB!

The lamia writhed and screeched in agony, trying desperately to pull itself out of the trap, but a row of downward-angled barbs prevented it from climbing out of the hole.

"Gnoll spike traps... primitive, but effective..." said a voice somewhere behind him.

"Amarant..!" the knight whispered, feeling glad about getting ambushed for the first time in his life. "I never thought I'd be happy to see you again!"

"What the hell are you doing here, traitor?"