Dart stood before a mirror in his room in Indels Castle, glaring at his reflection. Albert had given him new clothing, supposed to be more formal, he guessed, and Dart hated every inch of it. Instead of his normal free-flowing tunics, he'd been forced to wear a tight cotton shirt, tucked in, with an elaborately embroidered red and black jacket over it, along with tight trousers and leather boots so new that they still squeaked when he walked around in them. Had the next few hours not been dedicated to Lavitz, and had Rose not… convinced him to be there, he might have simply burned all the clothes off himself until there was nothing left but a meager pile of ashes.

He glanced up at his hair and growled. Running a hand through it, he tried to shake it out until it looked at least halfway brushed, and then gave up with an exasperated sigh, his eyes scanning his figure once more. After several days of not eating much of anything, he'd lost some weight and was now slightly leaner than when he'd arrived in Bale. The shadowed remains of several cuts and bruises covered his skin and face, but most of his wounds had recovered from the explosion, although his leg still twinged slightly when he walked on it. He'd been aggressively training his abilities for the past week or so, finding ways to control his power, but occasionally it had gotten out of control, adding a few cuts and scrapes here and there. For a split second, he considered asking Shana to heal his wounds before the ceremony, but quickly brushed the idea aside.

He hadn't seen her since that night in the castle. In fact, except for a forced and very nearly violent encounter with Rose, he hadn't seen any of his friends since that night. He was okay with that, though; he knew that they would just yell at him about recklessness or some other ridiculous topic if he'd sought them out. And so, he'd spent the past week in solitude, ignoring everything except his own anger.

And now, he stood staring at himself, wishing that he could just blow up the entire castle and leave. He was almost certain that he could create enough fire to do some good damage if he tried, but he also knew that it would ultimately be counterproductive. He sighed. He hated everything about this.

Settling his mind into a hazy stupor to avoid what was to follow, he tugged once at the jacket and opened the door to his room. After just a few steps down the hall, he heard another door clang shut nearby and turned to see Rose walking toward him. He flinched at her fiery expression.

For a moment, he was taken aback by her outfit. He'd seen her in something other than her armor on a rare occasion, but this was completely different. Today, she wore an outfit much like his: simple trousers, a tunic, and an elaborate jacket overtop it – different only in that the jacket was decorated with the dark purple of her dragoon spirit instead of Dart's red. It appeared that Albert had decided to keep with the themes. At Rose's hip sat her rapier, and Dart suddenly wished that he could feel the weight of his broadsword.

"Wow, you look... different," he said stiffly.

"Shut up," she said curtly, then added, "Let's go." And she walked past him down the hall. She was still angry.

Grateful for the guidance, though he would never admit it to her, he trailed behind her in silence until they came to the throne room. Just before they entered, Rose stopped suddenly and turned to him.

"Why is he making us stand up there?" complained Dart before she could speak, gesturing to the balcony.

"Because we're the dragoons," she said scornfully. "It's a well-known fact now. The king, and his army of dragoons, saved Basil and ended the Serdian War. If you weren't always hiding away in the woods, you might have known that."

He turned away from her harsh tone.

"I won't pretend this will be easy," continued Rose. "But it is necessary. Not just for the people, but for you, too. Something has to change, Dart."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't lie to me. You're really bad at it." A spark of anger flared within him, and he felt a tongue of flame light on his fingertips as she continued. "We all feel the pain of this, and the rest of us are actually coping. You should think about doing the same."

He knew that any retort would only result in Rose's petrifying magic, so he simply stood there seething, fist balled up at his waist. Just another hour or two, and he could escape once again to the woods.

"You need to calm down, or I'll calm you down," said Rose threateningly. He reluctantly relaxed his fist, and the flame disappeared. "Come on."

Turning toward the balcony, memories flared up suddenly in his mind, immobilizing him. Air became very hard to take in. As that familiar pain crept back into his heart, he looked down, taking deep breaths. He didn't want pain. He wanted anger. Reaching up to his neck, he tugged at the leather strap and pulled out the pouch, wrapping his hand tightly around it. Closing his eyes, he felt the power pulse beneath his fingers, the fiery rage longing to be let loose. He drew from the power as the pain receded back into the depths of his soul, back where it belonged and a searing heat spread through him.

At that moment, a forgotten recollection resurfaced in his mind... He was lying on the snow, the colorless gem in his hand. The cold pierced him, stealing away his life. And then the red glow, the heat. The living force beating in him again.

His eyes snapped open, but before he could understand the memory, he heard his name.

"Dart," whispered a tentative voice.

Snapping his head up, he saw Shana standing in the throne room, her expression caution muddled with concern. He felt the distance between them stretch beyond the several feet of stone floor and quickly stuffed the dragoon spirit back under his shirt.

"Shana," he said a little too quickly, instinctively lifting his chin and shoulders.

She was wearing a dress, and Dart almost laughed to imagine the vehemence with which Rose must have opposed this idea for her own wardrobe. But Shana's dress was simple and elegant – silver and black, the material almost reflective. The pattern around her torso mimicked the one on Dart's and Rose's jackets. Most noticeable to Dart, however, was Shana's hair. The top half was pinned back and pulled into a braid, letting the lower layers fall over her shoulders, collarbone, and back. He struggled to speak, but no words would come.

"I'm glad you came," she said simply, almost devoid of emotion.

Gazing into those brown eyes, Dart forgot where he was. Unsettlingly, he was reminded of the time in Lohan when they'd experienced such strain between them; this moment felt all too familiar. All at once, he realized that he wanted her beside him again. How could he get back there?

"My friends," interrupted Albert's stately voice. Dart and Shana turned to the king, who was wearing a decorative black outfit embroidered with bits of green. Dart also noticed Haschel on the other side of the room, in light purple and black. It seemed that the king desired all of them to be festive and color-coded. Albert's eyes flitted about the busy room, settling on each dragoon, Minister Noish, and a couple of the captains. Dart uncomfortably noticed the king's gaze linger on him for a few extra moments.

"Today is a solemn day. I am grateful for your presence during this difficult time. I ask only that you stand with me as I deliver homage to our fallen friend. Let us begin."

Albert gestured toward the two doorways leading to the balcony, and Dart joined the group of dragoons heading out the left side, noticing Haschel maneuver his way between him and Shana. Dart almost gasped as he looked over the balcony railing into a sea of black and gray. The courtyard of the castle, the drawbridge, and the city streets beyond were full of people in mourning.

In a flash, Dart remembered why they were here. Somehow, in the middle of everything else, he'd managed to forget. Lavitz's face appeared before him, and he caught his breath. Swallowing, he glanced around to Rose, Haschel, and Shana, finding no one meeting his gaze. He felt as though he were flailing about in water, about to drown, and there was nobody to pull him out.

No! he thought. You will not give in to this weakness.

Holding his hands behind his back, he created a swirl of fire, using it to exercise an anger whose source he'd long forgotten.

King Albert strode onto the balcony, taking his place front and center, and raised his hands in greeting as he began to speak.

"People of Bale, my brothers and sisters. We have celebrated many victories over the past fortnight. The war that has plagued Serdio is now over, and the country that had been torn apart by dissension is beginning to come back together, to live as one strong, united nation. Yes, our victories are many, but let us never forget the cost of peace. This bloody war has taken the lives of men, women, and children... It is with a grieving heart that we remember those that have fallen. The influence of evil, the catastrophe that is wrought from greed and lust for power, can be felt in every city, every home, and every barracks. We have all lost brothers. We have lost sisters. We have lost sons and daughters. And we have lost friends. Today is the day that we honor their sacrifice."

Dart heard Shana sniff from the other side of Haschel, and he thought he saw Haschel's hand reach out to her. Dart's jaw tightened in response, and he stared intently at one singular stone on the rail before him. It was all he could do to keep the flame cool enough to keep from catching his clothes on fire. Somehow, it kept him steady.

The king continued.

"Many of you had the great pleasure - the great honor - of knowing one of the greatest of these fallen heroes. He was a man of duty, of valor, of love, and of selflessness. He followed in the footsteps of his father, devoting his life to this country and to its people. Sir Lavitz Slambert spent every day of his life protecting the people of this city and serving me as a knight, and as a friend. He was truly a friend to all, giving the same love and respect to everyone he met, so much more than any of us deserve. Tirelessly, he served his people. Tirelessly, he served you. He fought for you and bled for you. And in the end... he died for you.

"While I was imprisoned, under heavy guard and deep in enemy territory, Sir Lavitz came for me. He fought through the enemy with a determination that only he could summon, and in the end, he saved me from my captors. And in doing so, he fell."

Albert's voice wavered, and he paused. Dart's rage was building, his hand now a tight fist, pulsing with heat as he saw Shana reach up to wipe her eyes, Haschel putting his hand on her back.

Finally, Albert managed to speak again. "Lavitz sacrificed his own life for mine. It is a sacrifice that I will never be able to repay, and something that I will hold close to my heart for the rest of my life. I will never forget that day. I will never forget the grief that followed. I will never forget Lavitz. Many of you knew him as a kind knight, loyal in service, son to the great Sir Servi. But those of us in the castle, and these dragoons here, knew him as the deepest of friends. There is nothing that we would trade for the memories we have of him. Though he is now gone, he continues to live on in us, through those very memories that he created through his love and kindness.

"I will not say, 'Do not weep,' for not all tears are an evil. As a country united, we weep together in mourning for the loss of this great hero. He was a son, a brother-in-arms, and a friend. May he live always in our memory until we can join him in the next life."

At last, the speech was over. Tears built in Dart's eyes, though he didn't give them the luxury of falling. With an intense heat, he burned away his sadness and his grief. All he wanted was to be away from this place.

Several trumpets rang out across the courtyard, playing the traditional song of the armies of Basil, almost drowning out the cries of the people as they wept.


With a determined step, Dart marched down the corridor. The sounds of the guests faded slowly behind him until he could just make out the hurried footsteps of someone in heeled shoes clicking along behind him.

"Dart!" called Shana.

He didn't stop.

"Dart!" she cried more forcefully. "Stop for a moment!"

"Go away, Shana," he growled behind him as he came to a set of stairs.

"Listen to me!"

A high whistle rang out to his left just before a ball of light burst before him, blinding him momentarily and forcing him to a halt. Swearing, he swung around, trying to make sense of the world around him.

"What?" he demanded. "What do you want from me?"

Her steps slowed as she reached him. He recoiled, but did not move back. Slowly, his surroundings came into focus, his eyes recovering from the light.

"I just want you to talk to me," said Shana.

"About what?"

"About Lavitz."

There was a pause. Shana's face came into focus before him, still a little dark, and he felt his chest tighten.

"I don't want to."

"Why not?" she asked, her face somewhere between angry and worried. He was amazed at her, at how much she'd changed in so short a time, willing to make demands of him like she was.

"Why do you think?"

"I know it hurts, but—"

He spun angrily and proceeded down the steps.

"Dart!"

Without looking behind him, Dart threw his hand up and let a small flame pop into a tiny explosion, keeping her firmly in place. He powered down the hall, following a different path out of the castle to avoid the people filtering through. Finally reaching his destination on the western side, he swept out the tiny door onto the boardwalk circling the castle and found his way around the courtyard and into the city. Slipping behind houses and through alleys, he avoided the main streets with an experienced step until he approached the city gates. Glancing behind him, he saw no one, and he charged out of the city and plunged himself back into the woods.

Finally, he thought.

Everything was muted out here: the people, the city, and his heart.

He didn't stop for some time, pulling off and dropping his jacket and untucking his tunic as he went, and eventually followed his well-worn memory until he found the site of the explosion he'd caused over a week ago. The ground was still bare, covered in black, the trees splintered and scattered about. Satisfied with his location, he marched into the center of the charred circle and planted himself. Training was the only thing that could save him now. Out here, as he fell into his routine, he became someone else. Instead of a weak human, he was a mighty dragoon, impervious to pain.

Keeping still, he listened.

A branch rustled to his right, and he gathered a ball of flame and hurled it at the noise, reacting as quickly as he could. It struck the branch, leaving a squirrel scampering away in terror, but unharmed.

I can do better than that, he thought.

This time, he formed another ball – this one burning much hotter – and waited. Several minutes of silence went by. And then, a sound.

He twisted and shot, causing a small explosion as the fire touched a leaf, burning it and several others to cinders. The branch just behind caught fire, and a tiny stream of smoke poured into the sky. With a flick of his wrist, Dart put out the fire and concentrated again.

Time after time, he practiced this technique, hoping to catch himself a squirrel or rabbit for dinner. Each time he missed, his frustration only grew, and he increased the power behind his attack, eventually imagining that enemies were circling him just out of his sight. At first, guards in Hellena. Then Sandoran soldiers. And then Lloyd.

His rage grew to a furious flame, and soon the forest was a cacophony of exploding air around him. Carefully controlling the fire, he made sure that no trees caught for more than a moment before moving on to his next attack. It became a rhythmic dance, fueled by hatred.

After several rapid shots in a row, he gathered the fire to him, holding it in place around him, shaping it to form a protective circle. Moving his arms in slow, circular motions, he directed the flames until he was effectively cloaked in fire, savoring the heat radiating at him from all directions. With grim satisfaction, he imagined the look on Lloyd's face if he could see him now. Surely it would fill him with terror.

Another sound appeared. Footsteps came up behind him, rustling the forest floor, and Dart's heart spiked. Instinctively, he directed the fire to burst in all directions, consuming the threat and throwing it backward with a powerful and deafening boom.

Just as the sound echoed around him, something else happened. A sourceless fear ran through him, and he felt a searing pain – the burning pain of fire that he hadn't felt since before Hoax. At the same moment, a scream rang through the air, and an ice-cold chill settled on his heart. He spun in horror as the cry was cut short with a thud.

He'd gone too far this time.

"Shana!" he screamed, peering through the trees. He had managed to burn even more of them, and he noticed several others that had been knocked down. Smoke billowed around him as more wood caught fire, but he ignored it, frantically stumbling toward the source of the shriek. "Shana!" His heart pounded loudly in his ears.

His memory of the past few weeks flashed across his mind. Each time that Shana had reached out to him, he'd only lashed out in anger. And now, he'd done it again. What have I done? he thought as dread soaked his soul. He knew instantly that the fiery pain was the pain that she had felt.

Several feet past the edge of the remaining trees, he spotted a human figure. Sprinting toward it, he saw exactly what he'd feared: Shana lay unconscious on the forest floor.

"Shana!" he cried once more, dropping to his knees next to her. Her clothing, which she'd changed since he'd left the castle, was smoldered, her skin burned in several places. One spot on her leg looked dark, almost black, like overcooked game. Several scratches covered her arms, and he saw a red smear on the bark of the tree behind her. Her arm was at an odd angle beneath her, and blood covered the soil beneath her head.

Dart's whole body began to tremble, and he lifted his hands to his head in confusion. He couldn't think. He was paralyzed by terror and regret.

For several moments, he only tried to breathe.

"Shana," he choked out, taking a staggered breath and numbly acknowledging the tears that had somehow escaped his eyes.

A shaky hand extended to her forehead, still pink and raw from the flames, until it found its way to her neck. Pressing lightly, Dart's fingers sought out a pulse. For several long seconds, his hands trembled too much to make anything out. Then taking a deep breath, he pressed harder.

A slight movement under his fingertips.

He exhaled dramatically as relief washed over him, intermingled with terror at whether she would survive long enough for him to help her.

But how could he help her? She was the one with healing magic.

Moaning in utter turmoil, he tried to think well enough to figure out what to do. Whatever he did, he had to do it quickly.

At last, something came to him.

The castle, he thought. I have to get her to the castle.

He gingerly placed his arms beneath her, lifting her up slowly. Cringing at the blood that now soaked her long, braided hair and dripped onto the forest floor, he stood, trying to ignore how uselessly her arm now flopped to the side. Suddenly he was grateful that she was unconscious and unable to feel the pain of the shattered bone.

As her blood ran down his arm, he was eerily reminded of when Lavitz's blood had done the same, and he stumbled, nearly incapacitated for a moment. Had Shana's life not been in his hands, he wasn't sure that he would have been able to move.

But as fast as he dared, he marched back to the castle, thanking his dragoon spirit for the strength and stamina to carry her that far. More than one person gasped and rushed at him to help as soon as they saw Shana, but Dart brushed them aside, assuring himself from some unknown place of confidence that with the other dragoons was the safest place Shana could be. Glancing down every so often, he noticed her skin grow paler and paler.

After what felt like an eternity, he was met along the main road by a rushing trio of dragoons. For a moment, Dart was confused, and then realized that they must have felt what he'd felt when Shana had gotten hurt – some kind of warning.

"Dart?" called Albert.

They approached, and Albert's and Haschel's worried expressions turned to ones of fear. They crowded around Shana, clearly anxious, but Rose kept a short distance from them. Dart didn't bother to try to read her expression.

"What happened?" the king demanded.

"I…" Dart's voice broke. "Help me." He looked at Albert earnestly, tears flooding his eyes again as the hopelessness settled over his heart.

For a brief moment, Albert looked at him, somewhere between concern and disdain in his eyes, before quickly turning to a nearby onlooker and ordering them to fetch a doctor from the castle. Vaguely registering the citizen rushing off, Dart dared a glance to Haschel before immediately regretting it; his face was nothing but seething rage.

"Set her down over here," Albert told Dart, motioning to one of the benches lining the road.

Rushing over, Dart tried to carefully set her down as Albert made sure Shana's broken arm wasn't beneath her.

"The blood—" started Dart, noticing the drops falling onto the cobblestones.

"It can be cleaned," said Albert with a wave of his hand. He stared fixedly at Shana, noticing her burns and examining her arm. His jaw worked for a minute before he turned to Dart with a meaningful look in his eye. "What happened?" he asked again, this time with a hint of anger behind his voice.

Dart was wholly unprepared for the incredible amount of guilt that began to ravage his mind. Whatever happened to Shana from that moment on was entirely his fault.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say. His lower lip trembled. "It was an accident."

"How bad is it?" muttered Haschel, mostly to himself as he hovered over her. He swore as he observed her injuries and the blood covering Dart's arm and leg. "She needs a doctor, now."

"Wait," interjected Dart, struggling with all his might to compose himself. "We could… Can't we… Her dragoon spirit?" His mind wasn't thinking properly. Words refused to form into a sentence, and all he could do was hope that someone understood.

But neither Albert nor Haschel had been there when he'd healed Drake the bandit in Shirley's shrine. They looked confused until he turned hopelessly toward Rose.

"No," she said, glaring at him as she approached. "It won't work. But I can help."

"How?" asked Albert, stepping back to give her access.

Dart spun, head in his hands. People were gathering around now, many of them still in dark funeral attire. What a sight this must be, one of their hero dragoons dying in the street, the king fawning over her. And it was all his fault.

"The white silver dragoon possesses massive amounts of healing power, but the dark dragoon can also be of some use," Dart heard Rose say behind him. "But there is a catch… I need the life force of another being."

Turning back, Dart wiped his face and saw Rose pull out a knife and hold it up to her hand.

"No!" he shouted, much louder than necessary. The three turned to him in irritation. "Use mine," he said, approaching with an outstretched hand.

He wasn't even entirely sure what was going on. As far as he knew, Rose's power controlled only darkness and fear, and only Shana could heal. But it appeared that he was wrong, somehow. All he knew was that she needed blood, and this was his fault. He should be the one to give it.

"Smart move," muttered Haschel as Rose took a hold of Dart's hand. In one smooth motion, she drew the dagger across his left forearm, cutting deeply, and Dart gasped at the pain. Then she placed one hand over the wound, squeezing tightly as Dart winced, and put the other hand on Shana's forehead. She closed her eyes to concentrate, and Dart felt a cold chill enter through the cut and sweep up his arm. He tried to force heat back into his arm, but to no avail.

"Stop it," spat Rose.

Realizing that he might burn her, he stopped, instead turning to watch Shana. Her pale face seemed peaceful. As he gazed at her, Dart forced himself to allow the cold to creep back into his body, working its way to his heart. A strange pain followed, not a piercing pain, but a pain like decay – like life itself was being sucked out of his arm. Watching Rose's hand, he saw a dark force seep into his bloodstream even as another dark cloud exited Rose's other hand to cover Shana's face. Part of him wanted to scream and beg Rose to stop, to stop stealing the life from his body, and a subtle moan escaped him. He felt exhausted and weak and collapsed to his knees.

"Shana," he whispered, her face inches from his. His vision blurred, but he could still make out her lifeless form on the bench. Suddenly his head felt very heavy. "I'm sorry," he breathed.

And then everything went black.


He opened his eyes with a jolt. The stone ceiling loomed over him. Head pounding, he pushed himself up, wincing as he put weight on his left arm. It felt sore, almost like something had eaten away at his flesh. He glanced around; someone had brought him to his room in the castle.

Looking down at his arm, he saw a tight bandage wrapped around the cut that Rose had given him. Slowly, he reached up and unwound the bandage until he could see the wound, and gasped as it was revealed. Instead of the healing cut he had expected, he saw a black, festering decay. A horrid scent drifted up to greet him, like the smell of rotting flesh, and he gagged before hurriedly replacing the bandage.

"What did she do to me?" he wondered aloud.

"Exactly what you asked."

Dart jumped violently at the sound of Rose's voice, and he turned to see her drifting in and out of the shadows by the wall. Swearing, he shook his head as he tried to calm his rapid heartbeat.

"Where's Shana?" he asked immediately, standing. "Is she okay?"

"She's alive."

"Where is she?"

Rose refused to answer his question, but merely stood there staring at him, her face impassive. Then slowly, she shook her head in judgment.

"What were you thinking?" she asked.

A sick feeling fell from his throat to his stomach, sitting and churning within him.

"I…" He struggled to find some kind of excuse, any kind of excuse that could make what happened okay. "I wasn't," he finally said.

"Of course you weren't," replied Rose. Dart was about to speak, but she cut him off. "You haven't been thinking for a very long time. It's like after Lavitz died you just decided to live in the center of your own little world, and the rest of us didn't even matter anymore."

Dart opened his mouth again, but Rose made a gesture, silencing him.

"You don't get to speak," she said sharply. "Believe it or not, I understand where you've been and what you're feeling. I can't say that I handled it well, but I can say that I handled it better than you."

"What do you want from me?" asked Dart dismally.

"I want you to admit what happened. You've been denying reality for so long that you've given yourself over to the dragoon's anger. You'll burn everything around you until there's nothing left to burn."

"It was an accident, okay?" he shouted. "I was training, and I've gotten a lot better by the way, but then Shana came up and I didn't see her—"

"Don't," shouted Rose in return, "give me excuses! You have no right! You almost killed her, Dart! I was barely able to stabilize her, and it almost killed you in the process. She hasn't woken up in two days—"

"Two days?"

"Yes. It's been two days. You have to hit your head pretty hard for a dragoon to still be unconscious after two days."

"But I didn't hit my head," wondered Dart.

"Healing with dark magic takes quite a toll on the host."

Was that satisfaction in her voice? He tried to ignore it and get back to Shana.

"But she's a dragoon. She'll heal."

"Yes," nodded Rose. "She will. But not like with magic. She'll have to heal her own wounds when she wakes, if she doesn't want a deformed arm the rest of her life."

Some amount of relief washed over him at this news. She would recover.

"But you still need to get some things in order," warned Rose.

He sighed dramatically. "I won't go out into the woods anymore then."

"No, Dart, that's only a symptom. You need to deal with the actual problem instead of continually brushing it aside."

"What do you want me to do?" he demanded.

With an earnest face, she took a step forward and said, "I want you to feel it."

The words hung thickly in the room. Dart knew what she meant, but what she wanted was exactly what he'd been avoiding for a month. The potential of what could occur was almost too much for him, and he turned away from her, grasping at any other emotion besides the one she wanted him to feel. His heart flailing around, he sought out the anger that had been fueling him for over a week, but it seemed in short supply. A spark ignited, but was quickly extinguished with the vision of Shana, her blood soaking the forest floor. Regret overshadowed him, and before he could stop it, his hands began to tremble. Attempting to appear calm, he stepped quickly toward the window and rested his palms on the sill. He could feel Rose's eyes boring into the back of his head.

"You can't run forever," she said quietly.

He knew this was true. Ever since Lavitz had died, he'd been running from the reality. For so long, he'd been sprinting away from it, and yet somehow it always managed to be right behind him. But he was getting tired. Lazy. Dangerous. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, that all too familiar ache rising in his heart.

"I don't want this pain," he muttered, still throwing up barriers against the grief.

"You have to feel it."

So simple, she made it seem. And yet, it was something that he could not do. He'd never recovered from the loss of his parents, and yet, he seemed to function well enough. He'd found Shana, and everything had gotten better. Surely it would again; all he had to do was keep pushing it down. Tears pressed against his eyelids, and he fought against them wildly. And there it was again, in response to his need: that deep anger.

Whirling around, he raised a fist, a wretched tear escaping as fire spun around his hand.

"I don't want it, and I don't need it!" he cried.

Irritated, and yet almost entertained, Rose rounded on him. She grabbed his fiery fist, a hiss erupting from her hand as it burned, and she struck him in the chest with her other hand. The surprising amount of force knocked him back, leaving him shivering in the cold of her fear as he slammed his back against the wall. Before he had time to react, she had her elbow on his neck, pressing against his throat and keeping him in place.

"Feel it, Dart," she ordered, her eyes inches from his, boring into his soul. "He's gone. Lavitz is dead, and he's never coming back."

And in one simple phrase, Rose disarmed Dart, rendering him utterly harmless. As he looked at her, he saw the faintest glimmer of moisture building up in her eyes, and somehow that made everything worse. Well before he was ready, her words hit him in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. His knees gave way, and he slid to the floor, Rose removing her arm to let him fall.

All at once, a month's worth of tears began to spill from his eyes, with no hope of being stopped. Memories of Lavitz flitted before his vision. Their meeting in Hellena. Their time on the road with Shana. His near death in the limestone cave. His joy in sharing his home with them. His bright, happy smile. His grieving tears. His final resting place.

Lavitz had been the first person who really believed in Dart and pushed him to be better than what he was. In all his years, Dart only remembered people who had held merely a fleeting interest in him, or only required him for a purpose, but Lavitz had not been that way. He'd invested time in Dart because he'd cared about him. Somehow, Lavitz had loved Dart despite all his flaws and seen all the good, no matter how hidden. He'd shown Dart how to fight and think, how to love, and how to let go. Everything Dart had ever wanted to be had been wrapped up in the person of Lavitz.

For a time, it had felt as if the wounds of his past had been healed. Dart had never known a friendship that could do that, take the worst of him and turn it into something powerful, like Lavitz had done. And he doubted that he ever would again.

But what had he done with that friendship? After Lavitz's death, Dart had retreated from the others, sulking in his own anger and despair, pretending that he was the only one in pain.

In a flash, he remembered his harsh words to Shana, the hurt in her face as he'd refused her help, and the terrible scream he'd heard in the woods. What would Lavitz think of him now?

But it didn't matter. Lavitz was gone. He lived only in their memories now, a phantom of the past, just like his parents. The only security he'd ever known had been taken from him twice, and now he felt naked and exposed, vulnerable to every whim of the world. It was a disgusting feeling, one that he despised, and yet he could not escape it.

He wept for it to be gone. He wept for the friendship that could never be felt again. He wept for pain he'd brought to those he cared for. And he wept at his disservice to Lavitz's memory.

Rose stayed for some time as Dart processed these thoughts, but eventually decided that this was no longer her place and left. But solitude did little to stop the intense river of emotion now flooding Dart's soul. For many minutes, he gasped for air between sobs that violently wracked his body, tears soaking his pants as he hugged his knees. He struggled to believe that it was really over, and that Lavitz would never return to them. He had so much that he wanted to say to him, so many things to ask about. Surely it couldn't be that he would never get the chance.

As the truth settled, slowly and precariously, on his heart, it was like a great void opened within him. And yet, the tears did not stop at this, either, but continued until he thought that they would never cease. He longed for any kind of reprieve, but it was another twenty minutes before one arrived.

Finally, his breathing steadied. The sobs subsided. The room grew quiet.

For some time, he stayed on the floor, unmoving. Nothing stirred around him, and for a moment, he fancied himself far outside the city, but the lack of forest sounds proved it false. Slowly, he lifted his head to greet the silence, his eyes strained and puffy, his chest sore and tight.

And yet, somehow, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Moving them in circular motions, he felt some of the month-old tension release. Reaching up, he began to massage them, awkward though it was, and a kind pain surfaced in them. Then leaning his head back against the wall, he stared glumly up at the ceiling and sniffed.

Nothing had changed, and yet it felt as if everything had. Lavitz was gone – there was no doubt of that – but it felt as if Dart had been clinging so tightly to something for so long that his arm had begun to cramp up, and he was just now finally able to let go. The muscle was still sore, but he knew that it was on its way to healing.

Where did he go from here? He thought of Lavitz… and grief found him again. Some part of him had thought that perhaps it would vanish after he'd cried enough, but that did not appear to be the case. So he pushed back into his history, seeking the answer, envisioning the first ones to be taken from him: his parents. Fuzzy though his memories were, he could still construct enough of their faces for his purposes.

Part of him wished that this mental vision of his family could become a reality before him now. Most of him, actually. He longed for that carefree security he'd only known with them. Believing that they would always protect him, that they would never leave, and that their love for each other and him would keep their family together until the end of time – those were feelings that he would never be able to find again. He mourned them, too, afresh alongside Lavitz.

What would it have been like had they met? Dart tried to imagine the scenario. He knew exactly how Lavitz would have reacted: that charming smile, a firm handshake. But it was his parents' reaction that he struggled with. Had it really been so long that he couldn't remember how they reacted to things? Their mannerisms were lost to the winds of time.

Dart rubbed his hands over his face, wiping and burning away the moisture that still lingered there. He didn't want to forget Lavitz like he'd forgotten his parents. Was it possible to always remember?

Of course not, he told himself mournfully. Eventually, time would steal those memories, too.

But… Another voice surfaced in the back of his mind to respond. He thought that it sounded like a mix of Shana and Lavitz. They all changed your life in a way that you cannot deny. Nothing will ever change that. So, in a way, it is impossible to forget. Their memories live on brightly inside you and the person you've become.

At this, fresh tears escaped. Perhaps it was possible after all to honor the memories of his parents and Lavitz. Dart's person was the result of the molding of all the people in his life, and he knew that these three people were most responsible for who he was. Their teachings, and their love, had shaped him. To remember them, all he had to do was use what they'd given him and live the way they'd taught him.

With a twinge, he realized how terribly he'd failed them the past several weeks. What had he become?

He stood suddenly, his head swirling at the unexpected movement, and he steadied himself against the wall. Pushing through stiff knees, he marched toward the door. He had amends to make. And he knew exactly where his first stop was.

Or do I?

As he pushed open the door and took his first steps into the empty corridor, he realized that he had no idea where Shana was. Surely, she was somewhere in the castle, but would they have kept her in her room or an infirmary of some sort? Her room was closer, he supposed, and he walked over toward it, rubbing his eyes once more and bracing himself to knock on the door.

Just before his knuckle rapped on the oak beam, he stopped. What right did he have to be here? After all he'd done to Shana, surely she would hate him. Would the others even let him be a part of the dragoons anymore? Reaching beneath his tunic, he pulled out the dragoon spirit, waiting patiently in the leather pouch. For many moments, he stared at it, halfway expecting it to explode or just fly off to find another person to wield it. But it sat there, patiently waiting for him to move on, glowing softly red. Sighing, he placed it back and knocked.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing Haschel's weary face. Heart sinking even further at the sight, Dart tried to find the right words.

"Is Shana here?" he managed to say.

"Yes," returned Haschel curtly. It was clear that he wasn't happy to see Dart; he'd visibly stiffened upon opening the door, and Dart noted that his right hand was balled into a fist.

"I just want to talk to her," said Dart quietly. "Just for a moment."

"She isn't awake."

"I know."

"Dart—" began Haschel, clearly winding up for a lecture.

"Can we do this later?" pleaded Dart. "I need to talk to her, even if she can't hear me."

Dart's anxiety built as Haschel debated letting him in. He cursed himself for the tears welling in his eyes, coming so easily this soon after his breakdown. Blinking, he looked down and waited for an opportunity to wipe his eyes without Haschel's noticing.

"You'll have to explain, you know," said Haschel. "This is inexcusable."

Dart opened his mouth to say, "I know," but merely nodded in response. Glancing up at Haschel again, he saw a hint of compassion mixed in with the anger, and he held onto the hope that not all was lost. Perhaps he could salvage his relationships. He finally understood that he needed them.

"Take your time." Haschel patted him lightly on the back as he pushed past him out the door.

With several slow steps, Dart entered the room and shut the door behind him. Part of him didn't want to see Shana and see the evidence of what he'd done to her. But he knew what he had to do. In his mind's eye, he saw Lavitz's face, silently encouraging him to be who he needed to be.

I can't do this without you, he told the invisible knight. Stay with me.

He felt the response rather than hear it: Be who you are, and I always will.

"He lives on in me," whispered Dart to himself. Then with a deep breath, he turned toward Shana's bed.

Somehow, it wasn't as bad as he'd thought, but that didn't make it good. At first glance, it appeared that Shana was sleeping peacefully, but a second glance revealed the truth. Someone had changed her outfit, and she was now in a loose tunic and long shorts, but the new clothes didn't hide the damage. There we so many bandages… so many wrapped around her legs that, for a moment, Dart thought that she was wearing pants. Another wrapped around her head, no doubt guarding the traumatic wound she'd received from the tree. Her arm was bound tightly, a brace attached to force it to heal in the right direction, and her face was covered with several open scratches and burns. She was unconscious because her mind couldn't handle the pain. And it was his fault.

Taking a deep breath, Dart approached. Part of him wanted to run away and never come back, but he forced himself to stay. There was a chair next to the bed, no doubt where Haschel had been sitting moments before, and Dart sat warily. Intensely uncomfortable, he glanced around at the empty room, as if someone would be there to help him. Sighing, he turned his eyes to Shana's face. He was somewhat pleased to see that color had returned to it.

"Shana," he whispered. He wondered if she could hear him. "Shana," he repeated more loudly. "I'm sorry…"

Off to a great start, he thought cynically. He rubbed a hand over his face and started over.

"I know I've been terrible to you the past few weeks. I was hurting, and you were just trying to help me, but I pushed you away. And now this…" He cursed as his eyes watered. Wiping them quickly, he continued. "It was an accident. I didn't know it was you. …I'd give anything to take it back."

Absentmindedly, he reached up to take her hand, poking out from the wooden brace on her arm. As he slid his hand around hers, he noted how cold it was, and he conjured up a subtle warmth to heat it. For a moment, he sat in silence, watching her breathe slowly and smoothly.

The corner of his eye caught a glint on the bedside table, and he saw the white gem pulsing softly with a warm glow, guarding over its owner. Rose had said that they couldn't heal Shana with it, but Dart didn't understand why. How could Rose know? Reaching over, he grasped the small gem and watched it for a moment before extracting his own dragoon spirit. Instantly, the glow brightened, each spirit calling out to the other as they sat in close proximity. Recalling their visit to Shirley's shrine, Dart closed his eyes and concentrated.

He felt the fire in his right hand, and some distant power in his left. With his eyes closed, he sensed a connection between the two, but it was weak and unfocused. He reached out with his mind, through the fire and toward the light, and for a moment, he could feel the healing power. Trying to grab hold of it again, he reached and grasped and fell short. Something was blocking him. He tried once more but was met another wall of resistance. Last time, it wasn't like this. Last time, the power yielded itself to him freely.

I am not yours to command, it whispered to him.

All at once he realized that with its own master, the power would not be wielded by another. At least, not without permission. With a sigh of frustration, he placed it back on the table and pocketed his own dragoon spirit, their glows diminishing instantly. He turned back to Shana.

"I can't fix it," he said in an irritated voice. "I don't know what to do. And now everyone hates me, and I'm not so sure I should even be travelling with you guys anymore, and I just…" He placed his hand on her forehead, feeling her soft skin and once again trying to give her some warmth. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Shana, I'm sorry. I need you. And I'm sorry that I've never said it before."

He watched her closely, halfway expecting her to wake up and embrace him, to tell him that he was forgiven. But he knew he was a fool. She would likely not wake for some time.

His mind drifted back to their time in Lohan, after his first match in the Hero Competition when she had healed him, and the strained situation that had followed. Why hadn't he just kissed her then? He had wanted to. How different would their relationship be now if he had?

Shaking his head, he took her hand again and kissed her forehead softly.

"I'll make this right," he whispered. "Somehow, I will."

And in that quiet moment of inner torment, Dart finally realized how he felt about Shana. It had been a journey of resistance and fear, and one of idiocy on his part, but now here he was, finally understanding that he loved her. She was so much more to him than a mere sister. In this moment, he knew that she was the only one he would always want by his side. She was the only one who had ever held such a large part of his soul. Every day, she carried it with her, emitting some strange force that made it impossible for him to leave her. There was no one else, and Dart knew that there never would be. And yet, he'd gone almost as far as he could to destroy any chance he'd ever had of being with her.

He loved her. He finally understood. But he also knew that it didn't matter.


Author Note: Welcome to my cliffhanger ending of "Disc 1." I realize that I've changed a lot of things, but I just couldn't let Lavitz's death be of as little impact as it was in the game. It's dramatic, for sure, but I'm very proud of it. When the next chapter comes, we'll finally move on to my favorite era of this story: Disc 2! I can't wait for you all to read and experience what I have in my mind.

And thank you again to everyone who has been reading this story, and especially to those of you leaving reviews. All your support has meant the world to me! You've made me a better writer, and it's pushed me to consider writing my own novel one day. But in the meantime, please keep reading and enjoying this story that means so much to me.