Sorean paced the elegant tiles in front of his throne. The guards nearest him kept their eyes averted out of respect while the ones farther away risked quick glances toward their ruler. Their fear and curiosity too overwhelming to resist. If the emperor had noticed their gazes upon him, he made no show of it. He merely continued his pacing, impatient, frustration growing with each step.

His lip curled into a snarl as he rounded on the man closest to him. "Where is he? I summoned him over three hours ago, did I not?"

The guard shrunk into his armor. His eyes flitted from one man to the next, perhaps praying that someone would come to his rescue. But his fellow guards may as well have been statues. He gulped then answered, "I… uh, yes, you did, Your Majesty…" The voice was shrill, trembling. Sorean's scowl widened.

He whirled around, began his pacing anew. After a minute, his steps faltered. This was not the proper way for a monarch to behave. He took a deep breath then returned to his throne and sat. Be at peace, he told himself. After all, Kallian could have a reasonable excuse for the delay. His son's schedule was often filled by his work with the Ministries. Perhaps there had been an issue that required the prince's attention.

Yet he couldn't help the unease that brewed within him. Kallian would've sent someone in his stead, to inform the emperor of his inability to attend a meeting. If he'd been able to. The guard he had sent to fetch his son hadn't returned either. Sorean sighed. His hands reached up to rub at his temples, banish the headache that had come on without warning. He had to regain his composure; his men shouldn't see him like this. But the gnawing, almost painful, sensation in his stomach wouldn't cease. No misfortune had fallen upon the prince. If there had been an accident, Kennet would've reported it.

Unless he is dead too.

The thought dried out his throat, made it hard to breathe. He forced himself to relax back into the throne. His wizened fingers stretched then released. It didn't quite expel the tension from his hands. But it was good enough.

Scarcely a heartbeat later, Kallian appeared in the Audience Chamber, flanked by two guards – the one he'd sent and Kennet. They both wore grim expressions on their pallid faces. Relief flooded through Sorean's veins and he allowed himself a small smile. It didn't reach his eyes. Then he stood, slow, formidable. He meant to analyze his son first, but his attention was caught by Kennet's state of disarray. The utterly soaked hair and clothes. The missing armor.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Kennet pressed his lips tight together, refused to make eye contact. The other guard – whose name he couldn't quite recall – had a similar reaction. So he turned to Kallian.

The prince's face was colorless, aside from the faint blue tint of his lips. His wings drooped down until their tips brushed the floor. He didn't react to Sorean's question. Eyes dull, as if his mind was somewhere else entirely. Then recognition sparked in him, delayed. He delayed further to consider his response. When he finally spoke, his words slurred together.

"Just a long journey. Valak Mountain." He dropped to his knees, braced his hands against the floor as his arms began to tremble.

The two guards exchanged a glance, a strange emotion fluttering from Kennet to the one Sorean had sent, infecting him. Disease-like. Then it vanished and they assumed positions identical to that of their prince.

A deep disapproval tugged the corners of Sorean's mouth downward. "That is a long way to travel in so few hours," he said, stepping closer to the three men kneeling before him. "You must be exhausted, my son." His hand moved to rest on Kallian's shoulder, but he pulled back as he noticed the little beads of water that dripped from his son's hair.

"He is, Your Majesty," Kennet agreed hurriedly. "Please allow him some rest before asking for his council."

"I am fine," Kallian growled as he forced himself to his feet. Unsteady, swaying like he might easily be felled by a breath of wind. His personal guard leapt up to help him, seized hold of his arm. Once stabilized, he shoved the man away. "Don't touch me."

Kennet flinched but stayed silent. The other guard took advantage of the commotion and dissolved into the background, rejoining the near faceless soldiers that continued to protect the throne. Purposefully blind to the growing tension.

Sorean frowned deeper. He'd never seen Kallian treat his guard that way before. Or anyone, for that matter. His eyes hardened. This wasn't how he'd raised him and he wouldn't tolerate it. "You forget your place. Do not make me remind you."

The prince just scoffed.

A sharp pain stabbed through Sorean's temple. Perhaps Kennet was right. Whatever was wrong, Kallian needed to rest before he would be of any use to the empire. Though he did have his suspicions of what had really happened. And none involved Valak Mountain. He tried not to think about it too deeply – the possibility that Kallian had abandoned his duties in favor of alcohol. When he did, he could feel his anger bubbling up. Threatening to boil over. He clenched his teeth, holding back the venomous words that balanced precariously on his tongue. Stored them away for another time.

He drew himself up to his full height, towered over his son. But he didn't address the prince, didn't acknowledge the disrespect. No matter how much he wanted to. "Kennet, escort His Highness to his room. He is not to leave until he has regained his senses."

The guard let out the smallest sigh. Relief. "Yes, Your Majesty."

As Kallian struggled against Kennet's guiding hand, Sorean turned his back to them. He felt like a fool. The embarrassment was, blessedly, enough to temper the rage. For now. He'd really thought that his son had been in peril. Trapped or hurt or worse… A part of him almost wished that was the truth of the matter. That kind of trouble was familiar, easier to plot a solution for. But this – he didn't even know what to call it. Rebellion? Or something more?

He groaned as he lowered himself into his throne. After all he'd learned during the most recent divination, he couldn't manage any more stress. Perhaps he should inform Yumea of Kallian's state. Let her handle it. Yes, that would be best. He had enough on his plate with Melia. Ensuring that she was prepared to take over as empress.

"If I may, Your Majesty…" The guard to his right broke the tense silence. He kept his eyes set resolutely on the tiles at Sorean's feet. Almost as if the emperor had imagined the voice.

"Yes?"

"I… Well, I believe Prince Kallian may be in need of a doctor." There were a few snickers from the other guards but he pushed on. "My cousin died. Um… last year. And he – it was odd – he was fine one day then the next, he was a completely different person. He deteriorated from there." He paused to gauge the emperor's reaction.

Sorean leaned forward in his throne, fingers steepled below his chin. The implication of the words sent shivers arcing down his spine and the unpleasantness collected in his stomach. Certainly, the reaction confused him. Death was not unusual, nor was it unwelcome. Having lived so long, known so many, he was well-acquainted with it. Perhaps they were even friends, as he had stared his own demise in the face for the last month. He shook his head to clear it, turned his full attention to the guard.

"Your concern for His Highness's wellbeing is appreciated," he said, choosing his words with care. "However, I cannot throw Alcamoth into a panic over a story. We will leave him to rest. If he has not recovered by this evening, you may seek out one of our physicians."

"That is an agreeable solution, Your Majesty," the guard said.

As the small group approached the ether deposit, the vibrant blues and greens faded into the grey hues of decay. The only pigment in sight came from the cascade of crimson ether crystals. A bloodstain against the nearby cliff face. Melia bit down on her lower lip, feeling the familiar sensation of unease creep into her stomach as she stepped closer to the dead grass. Such destruction… She wondered how she could ever manage to defeat an enemy that possessed such power. The power to absorb the life from everything around it.

Riki uttered a cry, feeble and childlike, at the sight of his homeland so defiled. This was not how his forest was meant to appear. He turned about helplessly, as if he sought an answer from his companions. Yet they were just as dumbfounded as he was.

"This… This is the might of the Telethia," Melia said. Her eyes stared straight ahead, unable to take in any more of her dreadful surroundings.

"The Telethia did this?" Dunban asked, not quite convinced. The Homs Entia opened her mouth to rebut his ignorance but he interrupted her before she could verbalize it. "We must be more cautious, then. Any mistake could be our last."

Something deep within Melia's emotional dungeon rattled the bars of its confinement, freeing itself just long enough to induce nausea. Dunban's final words had shaken her. Would this quest be the end of them? Would her shortcomings result in more squandered life? No. She couldn't allow that.

"I don't require you to—"

"Melia, we'll be alright. We have the Monado," Shulk said. His fingers twitched at his side, perhaps giving away his desire to rest that hand upon her shoulder in reassurance. But certainly, he recalled the last time he attempted physical contact and so, he stilled his fingers. "You don't have to worry about us. I promise."

Security. It felt like a thousand years since she had experienced such a thing. Of course, it had really only been a few hours – a time when four men still drew breath. Yet, she missed the feeling. That comfort as she strolled into unparalleled danger… It was the cause of so many deaths. And once more, she longed for it. Perhaps the desire was beyond her control, but she tried to force it down regardless. Selfishness did not befit a princess. She would strive to be better.

The dead grass crunched and crumbled beneath their feet as they wandered. Without the beast in sight, she found herself wondering if Shulk put too much faith in his sword. The Homs was confident – not unusual for someone so young – but that was precisely the danger. Confidence bred carelessness, after all. Though, perhaps he had good reason to believe in his weapon. Perhaps it had not yet let him down. And she hoped it never would.

Her gaze shifted over Shulk's shoulder to Dunban's back. He paused, causing the blond Homs to bump into him. But he didn't seem to notice. His eyes darted around the grey landscape until they came to rest on the cloudy sky.

Melia squinted upward. There was nothing to cause such a show of concern. "Dunban, what is—"

A deafening roar drowned out the remainder of her question and she turned her teal eyes back to the patch of sky her companion had been watching. The sheet of clouds tore open, flooding the forest with pale rays of sunlight. From the gash, there emerged an inky blot, which grew larger as it drew closer, took up a shape that made her heart twist. It swooped low and the group crouched to avoid its grasping claws.

Melia drew her staff, digging the end into the ground for support against the gales thrown by Telethia wings. Already, her heart pounded. Her palms were sweaty, mind in disarray. She couldn't make her lungs work. The monster landed just ahead of her and she once more felt the humidity of its breath on her face, taunting, rancid. It required all of her will to keep herself from being sick on the battlefield. With what remained, she looked up into its eyes. Chunks of coal that shone with anticipation for a massacre.

But she saw something else within the depths of its sloe black irises. She couldn't determine exactly what it was – perhaps some glimpse of the lives it had claimed – though she doubted she would ever need words to describe the image in a monster's eye. It could very well have been a creation of her panicked mind. There was no one she trusted to listen anyway, to understand how a phantasm could fill her veins with rage and send her barreling toward the enemy.

She drew upon all the elements at her disposal, brandishing her staff without hesitation. Somewhere, she knew her companions were attacking, but no evidence reached her senses. In that moment, nothing could pierce her focus. Her and the Telethia. They were all that existed in her mind. No room for distraction.

A small part of her protested, hoping to force her attention back to Shulk and the others. Shulk… She trusted him. At least, she thought she did. He seemed to be a decent man and she was reluctant to admit that she rather liked him. Without a doubt, he deserved the loyalty of his friends. Perhaps she would be allowed to become one of them. Perhaps she could be more than that…

The Telethia turned on her, one of its heads snapping at her legs while the other two aimed at something she couldn't see. Its teeth grazed her skin but she felt nothing through the haze of adrenaline. She rolled to the left, narrowly avoiding the clawed paw that struck the earth where she'd been standing. It would not kill her that easily. And if it presumed to do so, she would inform it exactly how useless its efforts were.

Fire sparked from the tip of her staff then flew toward the beast. The embers latched onto the Telethia's side, exploding upon contact, burning a patch of its skin red. It shrieked in pain, whipped all three of its heads around to glower at her. And as she stared back, trying to glare into six eyes at the same time, she knew she was about to die.

"Melia!"

It didn't matter to her. If this was to be her final sight. If that voice had belonged to Shulk. The empire she would leave behind. None of that was important anymore. She lowered her staff, resigned.

Then Dunban appeared atop one of the creature's heads, slashing at its antenna again and again until the whip-like length was severed. The Telethia let out a screeching roar and flung itself into the air. Melia forgotten, it struggled to throw the Homs man from its body. She scrambled backwards into the protection of her group, watched Dunban search unsuccessfully for a handhold on the flailing monster's back.

He lost his balance. Without even a shout, he fell through the open air. It seemed he was too focused on getting his feet underneath him to allow for any outward expression of fear.

"Wind!" Melia shouted, pointing her staff at Dunban.

The resulting gust caught him, slowed his descent enough to prevent injury. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. Then her attention returned to the Telethia. In a blur of ether, it regenerated its amputated antenna. Her heart stopped beating for several moments. How could they expect to defeat a beast capable of healing damage faster than they could deal it? It was impossible…

"Shulk, we cannot kill it," she said, stepping forward to stand beside him. "Such a task is beyond our ability. Let us abandon the quest before we lose anyone else. Revenge is not worth this…"

"No." He turned his head to look at her. "We can't give up. Just mourning isn't good enough." He paused.

She had never seen eyes as intense as his back in Alcamoth. The blond Homs spoke as if he had experienced the same sense of loss that, at present, threatened to make Melia's emotions boil over. Like he had lost someone close to him, long before she had met him. It encouraged her, made her feel that perhaps there was at least one person on the Bionis that could understand her inner turmoil. Then the conversation returned to the battle at hand.

"I have an idea," Shulk said, eyes alight – but in a different way than before. Not with the fire of vengeance this time. Something less fierce, more enthusiastic. Passion, perhaps. The will to see their quest through to completion. The joy of finding the solution.

Once more, she sprinted into battle, prepared to kill the Telethia that had murdered her people. She desired home, her family, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. They still registered in her subconscious. Yet they were not distractions. These things she wished for now motivated her, focused her entire being on the fight.

Riki trotted several feet ahead of the group. His eagerness must've gotten the better of him. Proclaiming that he would take down the 'Dinobeast' single-handedly because he was the Heropon. Until the Telethia tail-whipped him, sending him skidding across the ground. His body came to a stop and he was still. Cold dread trickled down Melia's throat. Damil…

The group rushed forward, engaging the monster in battle yet again. Melia hung back with Sharla and concentrated on summoning as many elements as she could. Fire, ice, wind, earth, lightning. The ether built up within her. She felt its warmth flood her body, saw its light envelop her in a glowing aura. In front of her, Shulk wielded the Monado in a way she'd never seen before. Green tendrils of electricity raced out of the sword, wrapping around the Telethia and restricting its movement.

"Melia, now!"

At the sound of Shulk's voice, she released all of her pent-up energy. It directed itself toward the enemy, flowed out of her without restraint. The ether was beyond her control. She merely served as its conduit, a means to its desired end. Although she had little control, the magic took a heavy toll on her. She felt some piece of her ripping open. It was a tiny part, hidden deep. But the pain it wrought seared like a brand.

For a moment, she feared the worst – that the ether would tear her body into bloody ribbons. But then, she heard the Telethia scream, saw a blinding flash of light. Whichever elements remained vanished once they no longer had a target. The ether cut off, leaving her empty, used, exhausted. She grounded her staff and leaned on it for support.

"Garan, Damil, Hogard, Aizel…" she whispered as her heartbeat slowed to a normal rate. "We have killed it. You may rest peacefully now…"

The group stayed the night at Frontier Village, though they were unable to sleep well. Music and excited chatter from the celebrations made it nearly impossible to drift off. Heropon Riki had fulfilled his duties, saving the Nopon as well as the forest. With his friends. That last bit was more of an afterthought, though no one minded much. The Homs and Homs Entia simply wished to find sleep. They didn't require recognition for their deed, only the embrace of deep rest.

At the dawning of the new day, the six left for Eryth Sea. They ate a quick breakfast among the revelers. The party raged on, even hours later, with no sign of slowing down. But only Riki seemed in the mood for it. Shulk was itching to get moving. He picked at his food, eating just enough to make the trip to Alcamoth. They bid farewell to the Nopon, thanked Chief Dunga for his hospitality. Then they were gone, sent teleporting up towards their final destination.

Melia led her newfound friends across the Hovering Reefs. They had only reached the second of the floating islands when they stopped for a break. The Homs Entia's leg was in bad condition after the Telethia had raked its teeth across her shin. Well, not bad, she amended. She felt fine enough; she could make the whole journey in one stretch. But Sharla had insisted. With a huff of annoyance, she sat down and extended her leg. Sharla knelt in front of her, cleaning and redressing the wound with a practiced hand.

"All set," the healer said. She grinned at her handiwork then shifted her gaze to Melia's face. "Now, take it easy, okay? There's no need to aggravate your injury. We're in no rush to get to the capital."

Shulk would beg to differ. The thought almost made her smile, but she made herself grimace instead. "I'm aware. But I'll only allow us to delay for a few minutes." She paused. "Thank you for… this. You're very skilled."

She waved the praise aside. "I do what I can." Her expression turned troubled. But she tried to recover, forcing her voice to be cheerful. "I'll, uh, leave you to it." Then she got up and joined Riki by a patch of pale blue flowers.

Once on her own, Melia cast her longing gaze upward to her city. The anti-Mechon drones glided through the air and, within the glass dome, the alabaster spires of the Imperial Palace glimmered in the early morning sun. Their radiance was nearly blinding. And yet, she couldn't stop staring, a warm feeling daring to wash over her. She didn't deserve it. Bitterness churned her stomach until she couldn't look anymore. When her eyes fell to the turquoise sea below the Hovering Reefs, the pain returned to the background. The water would be cold for another month at least. Perhaps she should dunk her head, let the icy waves shock her mind into clarity.

"May I join you?" Dunban's words broke into her thoughts before she could lose herself in her ceaseless worrying. He waited until she nodded then sat down in the grass beside her.

Her shoulders tensed. He'd settled a little… close. Even after they'd fought side by side, a part of her still expected distance. After all, she'd never apologized for her reaction to his concern back in Frontier Village. She kept her gaze locked on Eryth Sea.

"I wanted to say thank you."

"What for?" She finally gave in and turned her head toward him.

"You manipulated the ether to break my fall," he said, focusing on a point far beyond Alcamoth. "I might've died if you hadn't."

She studied him a moment more then looked away. Her eyes sought out the comfort of her home. What could she even say to that? Summoning the wind had been mere instinct. She couldn't stand to have another death on her hands. Her fingers twitched. A faint breeze rustled through her hair, carrying with it the scent of brine and flowers.

"Any of the others would have done the same."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Dunban turned his full attention on her. She could feel his gaze like a length of rope tightening around her throat. In her peripheral vision, she saw him frown. The gentle breeze gave a single, harsh gust. Then she regained her control and it vanished entirely.

"Not that they could have," he said at last. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"I… I suppose it's always been a part of me." She didn't want to get into it with him. The countless hours of training. The harsh words of her tutor when she failed. And all the nights she practiced through the exhaustion because she didn't know what else to do. Although it was hours away, tonight felt like it would be one of those nights. When sleep eluded her and her problems crowded in. "I'm glad my talents have proved useful."

His frown deepened but he didn't say anything in reply. Instead, he opted for a subject change. "Are you ready to move on? I must admit that I'm eager to see the capital from the inside."

She wasn't ready. Her shin ached and the skin around the wound still stung. But she dragged herself to her feet with a nod. Dunban followed suit then called the others together. As they set out, she stayed at the very back of the group. With Reyn. Out of all of them, he was the least likely to notice her limp. The headache would be worth it if it saved her the embarrassment of taking another break. She couldn't let herself stall any longer.

After all she'd been through in the last twenty-four hours… Finally, she was going home.