After the Fall Prelude to Hope

by edgarmash79

A year after the calamity wracked the world into ruin, Celes woke from her sleep to begin her search and reunite everyone. But what were the others up to during the year before Celes's awakening? These are tales of fallen returners searching for meaning in a broken world, following their own personal journey until the day they are reunited with Celes and the others.

2. Chapter 2

Shadow and Interceptor

The assassin, known only to others as Shadow, rarely reconsidered a decision once he committed to it.

He was ready to flee this floating mass of land, rock, and roaming magical beasts had he not turned at the last second to observe the death of Emperor Gestahl, the one responsible for ordering his imperial soldiers to kill him when his usefulness was done.

He fought with the Returners, trekking with them across this bizarre continent, and fought a creature of ancient lore long thought to be nothing more than a myth. Whatever it called itself, Shadow couldn't care less. It was as dead as any other creature they slew on the way. Dragons, wyverns, undead monstrosities, and demons from an age scholars described as the apex of the War of the Magi.

The magic-wielding woman named Terra and her companions took the fight to the Emperor. Shadow had nothing left to lose except that separating him from Interceptor was the worst mistake Gestahl and his laughing lackey ever made. There was a mild sense of satisfaction watching Kefka toss the Emperor from the continent, yet the overall dread on the faces of those who watched him move those statues was enough to goad Shadow back.

You're thinking of running away again, aren't you? said a voice in his head. Shadow paused. He never forgot the voice of his old friend, Baram. You've always been good at that.

A near-blinding light surrounded Terra and her friends, immobilizing them. Though his instincts told him to continue running and make a long dive into the ocean below – whether he'd survive the splash and swim without drowning is another matter – watching them struggle while Kefka laughed and mocked them with facial expressions as he moved one statue after the next didn't sit well.

There was a chance to help them.

Something about them was worth aiding them. They insisted he join them rather than abandon him to the beasts on this continent. He knew they were not like him.

As Kefka moved the statues, the magical field weakened around Terra and the others. That was his window to move in and free them. Before he could leap, though, he saw another woman clinging for her life from the ledge, supposedly knocked away from the whole ordeal. General Celes. Screaming at a madman to stop was as futile as hiring an assassin for free.

The woman's grip was slipping. Shadow sensed that she would fall to her death at a moment's notice if he didn't act immediately. The power of those statues shook the foundation of the continent, adding more to Celes's peril. Placing two fingers in his mouth, he whistled to distract Kefka long enough to leap from his perch. He landed next to the woman, using his agile frame to gain a foothold on the side. Grabbing her by her sides, he leaped once more from his position to land safely on stable ground between Terra's group and Kefka.

"Help them," he whispered to the woman before he sprinted to the closest statue next to Kefka.

"What are you-?" Kefka asked before he was shoved back by the force of the statue Shadow was pushing. Kefka laughed it off but coughed at the same time. Shadow then spotted a gaping wound in the clown's midsection with a blood-soaked sword lying on the ground near him.

Serves him right.

Before Kefka could cast a magic spell, Shadow was immediately onto the leftmost statue and pushed it in to pin the clown in place.

"I'm buying you all some time! Go!" he yelled at the Returners. Kefka tried in vain to push back against Shadow, but the wound had sapped much of his strength. His twisted face of laughter and growling would've disturbed any lesser man but for an assassin? Shadow ignored his outburst.

Kefka built magical energy in his open palm, glaring at Shadow. Before he could fire, the power in the statues fluctuated, sending a shockwave that forced the four Returners off their perch to a lower level. Shadow crouched enough to absorb the magical energy, maintaining his balance.

"You can't escape me!" Kefka screeched. He redirected his magical sphere and launched it ahead of the Returners. Shadow watched it dash past the four and settle itself a distance away. Though the skies began to darken, there was still enough light from the sphere to be seen. It was up to them to figure out what to do with it while he dealt with Kefka.

"Alright, jester, now that we're alone, let's discuss my payment, shall we?" Shadow said coyly. His face leered towards Kefka, who chuckled while also grimacing and coughing blood.

"Payment? Do I look like a banker?" he asked.

"Better cough up, jester. I ain't got all day," Shadow said. Watching the clown cough up blood, clutching his gut, cursing Celes's name under his breath each time was almost satisfying to watch. If he wasn't going to net the remaining gil of this job, watching the top-tier brass of the Empire kick it would be rewarding enough.

Kefka chuckled, using his hand to hold himself up against one of the statues, a demon with a pair of wings and gnarled hands closed in such a way as if it was gripping something at the time it petrified itself. "See, that's the problem. The Emperor's the one with gil stacked so high he could make a cute little fortress out of it. He's the guy you gotta ask. Oh wait, I forgot he went for a swim!"

Kefka cackled and hacked. A dying man laughing on his way out seemed appropriate for this idiot. Shadow stayed to watch, ensuring that the clown would indeed lay dead at his feet. Whatever happened afterward was of little concern.

Flickers of light from the statues jutted above to merge into one ball of intense energy that danced overhead before descending toward the surface below. "Ooh, goody! The Triad's fully awake! Now here's where I come in! As for you, pajama-man, you'd better mosey before it gets presto-change-o around here. Ta!"

Shadow only had a few seconds to process what Kefka was doing before he saw the wound close in his stomach. The energy from the statues fluctuated before they began feeding Kefka with a strange blue light cast within a blackened outline. The clown began to undergo a metamorphosis as raw magical energy twisted and changed his appearance. His pale skin, caked with make-up, shifted into a malicious deep purple while his form expanded. From his back, masses began to move and bubble, preparing for something to burst from it.

"Damn it all," he hissed before dashing a few steps to leap off the ledge in the direction he believed Terra's group was flung earlier. There was very little stable ground left as much of the continent was breaking apart, massive sections falling to the ocean below. There were stray monsters shaped like harlequin dancers that Shadow dispatched with shurikens along the way, maintaining his speed without stopping once. How much longer would he need to sprint until he reached the end of the continent with nowhere else to go? It wasn't a simple dive down into the ocean below. This thing was soaring above the clouds, yet the power of the statues created darkness that blotted the sun's light from poking through.

As he ran, he realized that if the Returners managed to make their way to this place, it meant they had the Blackjack to aid them. The airship would be his ticket off this continent. Whether Terra, Celes, and the others decided to wait for him was another matter entirely. In their haste, they may have forgotten him.

He killed several more of those harlequin freaks until he ran out of shurikens, unsheathing his short katana to dispatch the rest that stood in his way. One patch of ground he landed on immediately gave way underneath, forcing Shadow to leap awkwardly. He landed just as badly, collapsing on the ground near Terra's group, who were elated to see him.

"Shadow!" Terra cried.

"I'd never be able to live with myself if I bought it before collecting my pay," Shadow half-joked. There was relief on the woman's face as she smiled. "Terra! Come on!" he heard Celes shout. That might be the last smile Shadow would see for some time if they survived this. The five then leaped to the Blackjack.

"Everybody brace yourselves!" yelled the pilot, whom Shadow recognized as Setzer. The ship was near one of those chaotic-looking cyclones ready to tear the vehicle apart. Yet it wasn't the wind that blew through the ship, but a bolt of lightning slicing through the ship from port to starboard, separating the Returners into two groups. Shadow was rocked back, falling along with those cast towards the stern while watching those clinging onto each other near Setzer above. Their forms quickly grew smaller as he was now free-falling toward the water below.

The cyclone's pull drew both halves into its vortex, tossing Returners to the four corners of the world while destruction rained from above and around. Shadow could only hold onto what was still intact of the vehicle before he was thrown down to the ocean. The world spun around him so much that he became light-headed before crashing into the water.

~.~

Instinct.

Interceptor's ears perked skyward, waking from his nap. The Doberman's ears twitched to something unfamiliar in the distance, a sensation he couldn't fathom yet couldn't shake off.

Whatever this sensation was, it grew worse, fast. He bolted from the sofa he slept on to scratch at the door, begging to be let out.

An elderly gentleman, sipping at his cup of tea, sighed heavily in Interceptor's direction. "Alright, alright. I'll let you out," he told him. As he approached to open the door, he shook his head at the dog. "You're not going very far with those bandages around you. I guarantee you that."

Interceptor continued scratching at the door, whimpering and barking, pleading with the old man. "Geez, boy, calm yourself!" He swung the door open. "Here!"

The old man barely had time to utter his last word before Interceptor sprinted outside, barking at the villagers.

Instinct compelled him to warn everyone. He barked and pawed at every house, scratching at doors and walls and tugging at clothing, all to gain their attention. Confused looks were exchanged between everyone. One called out to the house where Interceptor left to address the old man at the door, frowning at the dog.

"What's up with the dog, Gungho?" he asked. The old man named Gungho shook his head. "Beats me! He just started acting like this. Relm's going to chew his ear out if she saw this."

"Speaking of which," the man said. Interceptor's patience was so thin a simple knife could cut through it. He barked and whimpered endlessly, hoping they'd somehow realize that disaster was coming.

"What's all the commotion about? And will someone shut that dog up?!" yelled another older gentleman as he tied his bedrobes. Watching him jog out of his house wearing chocobo slippers and a nightcap was comical, only to stop midstride. Interceptor ran up to him, bounding and barking, his cries of panic surrounding the elderly man. "Whose dog is this?!"

"Sorry, Mayor, I'm looking after him at Strago's while he and Relm are off fighting the Empire with those foreigners from the other day," Gungho explained, only to have the elder retract his hand each time Interceptor tried to nip at it.

"Blasted girl," the Mayor hissed. "Of course, she'd bring animals to our village."

"Elder-!"

All eyes went to a group of middle-aged farmers who pointed skyward. "Look! Something's happening!" one of them shouted.

Interceptor's ears dropped. The source of his panic flickered a bright light from the land among the clouds above. After several flashes, the sky darkened to a blackness no one had ever seen before.

"By the gods…!" the Mayor said, his voice teetering on horror. "Gather everyone from the village to me quickly!"

"What's going on, Mayor?" asked Gungho. His face scrunched at the ominous sight, yet he was curious about the Mayor's demand.

"Some ill-begotten fool has awakened the Warring Triad!" the Mayor screamed. Villagers stopped at the mention of the Triad. Interceptor, meanwhile, was pulling at the Mayor's robes with his teeth. "Settle down, you crazy mutt! I'm going to help!"

Men, women, and children all deserted their homes to assemble at the town square, where the Mayor waved and directed people to stand and gather. "Is everyone accounted for…?" he asked.

Groups acknowledged him one after the other until the Mayor confidently addressed everyone. Interceptor's ears twitched madly, his barking giving way to continued whimpering. Of all the things he encountered throughout his travels with his human companion, he had never faced something so dreadful. Brave that he faced all forms of danger, something about this turned his stomach, twisting and aggravating his injuries.

"I need all the strongest magic users to form a circle around the villagers and link with me!" the Mayor commanded. Several men and women split from their families to join hands, numbering in the dozens. It was wide enough for each to hold hands and join with the Mayor while the villagers huddled together.

"Pour all your strength into a barrier!" the Mayor commanded. "We must protect Thamasa with our lives if we are to survive the power of the Warring Triad!"

Several children were bawling, frightened about something they knew nothing about. Some reached out to their parents, who had joined the circle but were held back by an aunt or uncle hugging them tightly.

Interceptor huddled close to the children as well. In all the times he avoided people altogether, save Relm and Shadow, the conclave of Thamasans ready to fight against the inevitable disaster that was coming at least gave Interceptor some resiliency.

The initial shockwave rocked the village, no, the whole continent. It was enough to topple the villagers, some falling onto each other. "Steady! Back to your feet!" the Mayor shouted.

Interceptor pulled an adult off one of the children, who checked to see if he had injured the lad. The dog continued helping around until the villagers were on their feet again. Who knows what else was coming?

No sooner had the villagers risen that they needed to huddle to shelter one another from several gale storms caused by the formation of a massive cyclone south of Thamasa. Interceptor barked furiously at it in some vain attempt to scare it off, but it only drifted in random directions. The magic barrier channeled by the Elder and the others withstood the stellar force of the wind, but Interceptor was catching a few cracks that appeared. This barrier would not endure for more than a few seconds before it would shatter, leaving Interceptor and everyone else up to the fate of the Warring Triad's power that went to work, tearing the world apart.

Houses were ripped apart like paper, blown away off their foundations. Farm animals were plucked off the land in waves, blown away in seconds. Uprooted trees nearly impaled the villagers had the barrier not been there to stop them. They bounced and splintered off the energy field and were tossed into the pull of the cyclone. Interceptor felt pulled into an embrace by one of the families as if they wanted to ensure his safety. Normally, he would've bit the hand that grabbed him, but with all the chaos around him, he'd welcome a comforting hand from a human. If only Shadow were here to fight this with him.

The air soon shifted as it fluctuated between a searing heat and a frigid chill. For a summer's day, there were glimpses of a blizzard coupled with sheets of ice forming on the ground and along the energy barrier until Interceptor sensed pockets of heat manifesting nearby.

Pillars of molten lava then gushed from the ground like a geyser along the outskirts of the village, no fewer than about a hundred meters away. The heat was intense, even through the barrier, forcing villagers to dash away. The pillars ejected clusters of magma that rained across the land, bouncing off the energy field.

"Mayor, we're losing our hold on the barrier!" yelled one of the villagers.

"Stand your ground!" the Mayor snapped back. "We're Magi. Never forget that! Stand! Your! Ground!"

Regrettably, though, that very villager was struck and buried under one of the magma balls shot from the pillar. What was left of the man were only his arms that were still holding hands with those adjacent to him. Worse, it weakened the barrier considerably, leaving the village vulnerable.

"Quickly! Strengthen the barrier! We will survive this!" the Mayor screamed. He may as well have been barking orders at the air while panic-stricken Thamasans not waiting for death to rain down upon them scrambled. Parents scooped their children and fled in a direction far from the rain of magma, while the Mayor and a few stragglers remained to use their magic to redirect the magma away from Thamasa, or what was left of it. It was one of those days the Mayor wished he'd stayed home in his bed.

Interceptor focused on the family who kept him close. He carried their youngest on his back as he darted with them, the boy's arms wrapped around his neck to hold on. They made their way to the north end of Thamasa while avoiding the searing heat of the magma pillars. Before they could cross the edge of town, a crack in the earth sundered the land like an axe cleaving a log in two.

Much of the beautiful greenery and forests ignited in an inferno that left nothing in its wake, forcing Interceptor and the Thamasans to be confined to the village. The boy buried his face in the dog's fur, unwilling to see the destruction around him. Lucky kid.

Seeking shelter proved problematic after the gale force winds blew them off their foundation and spread throughout, some not even landing anywhere on land but sucked away into the cyclone. Thamasans, young and old, frantically searched for shelter, anywhere they could stay hidden while the apocalypse reigned across the planet. They had to figure out that Thamasa wasn't the only hamlet affected. If this was the power of the Warring Triad, then no one was safe.

"Come! I found a cellar that's still intact!" said the boy's father, waving at Interceptor to follow. The dog rushed to join, only for other villagers to notice that the family had found shelter. Dozens clamored and pushed one another to climb in while the father ushered his family in first, prompting Interceptor to issue a few warning barks to impatient villagers seeking to escape.

As much as Interceptor continued barking, a hand was pulling at his hind leg. The father beckoned him to get in quickly before it was too late, yet Interceptor found himself sandwiched between frightened villagers. The mother pulled the boy off his back to avoid being crushed while Interceptor bit into hands, arms, and legs to force people off of him so he could escape with the family.

Interceptor scurried under the humans, followed immediately by several villagers who ignored all of the dog's bite marks. Whether the Elder was among them was unknown, nor were there signs of the other magic users among the hasty group. Interceptor only knew that this family had found shelter. Shortly after that, they would have to share it with dozens more, squeezing themselves into the tight confines of a space that could hold no more than thirty adults.

Thankfully there was a mix of adults and children, all of whom huddled and hugged their parents tightly, which bought a few more spots for the Mayor, Gungho, and three magic users to enter.

"What of the others, Mayor?" asked a middle-aged woman. She had all the air of the town's seamstress; hands callused from years of hard work crafting clothing fit for a Thamasan to wear proudly. Her face was no different than the rest: pale and confused.

One of the magic users conjured a sphere of light. "Taken, Lady Alissa," said Gungho somberly. "Great magic users, all of them. All taken."

"What of Strago? Of little Relm? Where could they be?!" said another woman, more youthful than Lady Alissa. It wouldn't surprise anyone clamped together that their voice was bridging the gap between stable and absolute terror. The Mayor was impressed that she was keeping it together.

"We don't know what's become of the rest of the world and its people." He wrung his hands, blackened from overexertion of magic, and blistered from the heat of the magma he deflected, groaning with each small step. "We can only pray they survived."

Interceptor wasn't knowledgeable about these human traits and habits, but he'd pray Shadow survived, too, if he could.

~ . ~

The crackling, snapping sound of burning wood stirred Shadow from his slumber. It was all he could process for a few seconds before the sensation of heat reached his arm. As he shifted, he realized he was on his back, lying on the ground beside an open flame. He shifted again, only to feel an intense shooting pain gut him on the side. It was too painful to move.

"Well, well," said a gruff voice nearby. "Look who's finally awake."

Huh? What?

"Wasn't sure you survived. Fortunately, your lucky ass didn't drown at the bottom of the ocean," said the voice again. Shadow blinked the haziness out of his vision to seek the source of the voice, which sounded familiar. It had all the subtlety of a man with prey captured in his net, waiting for the pot to reach its ideal temperature before cooking it. Despite the predatory tinge, the man in question made Shadow groan internally, along with what had aggravated him.

"How long—?"

Shadow couldn't even form his words before coughing severely. He remembered crashing into the ocean on top of a piece of the Blackjack but little else. If he had dreamt anything, he wouldn't have known unless it was another memory of Baram. Dreams happened to him so frequently he couldn't tell dream from memory, only the constant reminder of his cowardice he kept to himself.

"Three days, give or take," said the man, leering over Shadow with a grin. "Sleeping like a babe looked pretty comical for someone like you."

"Not in the mood for jokes," Shadow coughed. Dammit, I can't even get in a word.

The man chuckled. "You never were, Clyde."

Shadow glared at the man who dared use his old name. The man who took him under his wing, the man who taught him the way of the assassin, and the man who could've easily killed him or left him to die at the bottom of the ocean – at least, that's how Shadow perceived it to be – still had him dead to rights. Siegfried.

"What do you want, Siegfried?" Shadow asked. Siegfried tossed him a flask, thumping him in the ribcage. Shadow hissed from the impact, realizing quickly that the impact had damaged his ribcage, yet he wasn't certain how extensive the damage was. "Relax. Drink up," Seigfried told him before taking a seat.

Shadow never had to struggle so much with such a simple task. Once he was finally vertical, he locked eyes with his old teacher, using one still-good arm to unscrew the cap off the flask to drink.

Siegfried dismissed the flask. "First of all, sit up, drink, and then get your shit together," he told him. What was the plan here? What motive does Siegfried even have for keeping Shadow company?

It also dawned on Shadow that he didn't have his headgear to conceal his face. Whether anyone knew who he was underneath the veil was irrelevant now. He wrapped his other arm around his side while sipping his master's flask.

"You still haven't answered my question," Shadow said, gliding down the wall until he sat in a similar position to Siegfried, legs crossed while spinning the flask in his hands.

Siegfried poked the fire to keep it lit with a stray branch. "Waiting for you to wake up. Betcha got a lot of questions about what the hell happened the last couple of days."

He did have one question but knew Siegfried wouldn't have an answer: Where was Interceptor, and did he survive?

He may as well gauge his surroundings. "Where did I land?"

"Near Albrook," Siegfried answered. "Or what's left of it."

The scenery did look familiar to Shadow now that he had a moment to look around. The two were seated under the bridge that connected the inn to the tavern, yet much of it had collapsed, with debris littering the ground nearby. Shadow poked around the corner to survey the survivors, busying themselves with cleaning up the aftermath of whatever that was that attacked the planet.

The sky still looked scorched as it did days earlier when he was on his one-way trip to the ocean. The formation of the clouds looked unnatural as if they had become a life-form of their own, moving across the sky like a storm on the ocean. Gaps in the cloud cover revealed a crimson-scarred sky tainted by the force of magic that sundered the world.

Another strange phenomenon Shadow observed was the debris floating in the air, moving slowly in one direction. Killing his emotions long ago spared him the hollow sensation the sight would've given him, yet he was curious about where the debris was floating.

"Kinda freaky, all that crap in the air, huh?" said Siegfried, pointing at what Shadow soon discovered were the remnants of the floating continent. "You can see where it's gravitating."

He led Shadow over the broken pieces of the bridge and paused, yet Shadow's face stirred at the sight before him. "To be honest, that tower looks even freakier," Siegfried said.

The hairs on Shadow's arms and neck stood up, not from the chill in the air but from the sensation of what was ahead. It had to be some magical force assembling the structure in the distance, using debris from the continent, among other things, in its construction. Soaring above, bathed in more of that crimson light that spilled through the clouds, was a figure with two sets of wings, clad in blood-colored robes and skin like tainted amethyst. But there was no mistaking the feather adorning the figure's bleached hair.

"But nothing tops the prick that declared himself God of the world once the chaos subsided," said Seigfried, nodding up at Kefka. Shadow regarded Kefka indifferently, annoyed that he never had the chance to finish what Celes had started. Had it not been for those statues, he'd have the jester's throat slit.

Their eyes were then drawn to several individuals walking away from Albrook. Their march seemed unnatural, judging by how they moved, shuffling across the scorched terrain. "Huh. Where'd you suppose they're going?"

Shadow gave him a "Why are you asking me?" look but shook his head. No answer would be thoughtful enough to explain the strange behavior, only that he needed to lean against a wall to hold himself upright. The pain was getting to him, forcing his body to scream at him to sit back down.

"Welp," Siegfried said, returning to retrieve his flask. He took a swig and pointed toward the zombie-like travelers migrating northeast. "Care to see where they're headed?"

"No."

"Tch, you're no fun."

Siegfried pocketed the flask and rustled the flames to keep it alive longer. "C'mon, you need your rest to recover. If I can rustle up some healing potions, you'll be back in tip-top shape in no time."

"Why do you care…?" Shadow asked, moving along the wall for support. "What's in it for you to nurse me like I'm some kid?"

His master's toothy grin showcased a singular gold tooth that reflected the light of the flames below. It was as if Seigfried waited for Shadow to ask him the real questions now.

"Believe it or not, I need you," Siegfried told him. If Shadow had kept his emotions stored away, he'd have laughed. "Don't give me that look. I'm serious."

"Fine."

"Honestly, had you not involved yourself with the Empire's little fetch quest for those Espers, I'd have coaxed you into a little mission with me. Then the world goes to shit and screwed up my plans."

Shadow raised an eyebrow. Since when has Siegried, of all people, wanted an associate to tag along for any of his missions? "We work solo, Siegfried. What the hell do you need someone to help you with?"

"Some asshole is roaming among our ranks pretending to be me, and it pisses me off that I haven't been able to gut him like a fish yet. Did you ever run into this jackass?"

Shadow contemplated the question. He thought about where he saw a man dressed in clothing similar to Siegfried's but knew right away that he was a fraud trying to imitate his master.

"I tagged along with a monk who needed directions to a port that would've taken him to South Figaro from Nikeah. We ran into your imposter on a train in a forest and killed him."

Shadow looked to Siegfried for acknowledgment, but the man's grin only widened. "Is that so…?"

He then barked a laugh, taking another swig of his flask. "That guy has the tenacity of a cockroach, Clyde. Not even the apocalypse is enough to squash him." He leered at Shadow, who wanted to wrinkle his nose at the alcohol on the man's breath. "He's still alive. And I need you to help me track him down."

Despite discarding his emotions, there was still an uneasy sensation in his gut when Siegfried asked for help to track this imposter. It made him think of Interceptor and how often the dog could find anyone. Siegfried might as well look for a needle in the Figaro desert with Shadow's tracking skills. He almost regretted leaving all of that work to his partner.

"I'm still owed money for my job with the Empire. Do you have enough to compensate?" Shadow asked. If he was going to give Siegfried a hand, he might as well negotiate for it.

"The reward," Seigfried said, giving him a dangerous look, "is you get to live."

"Doesn't surprise me," Shadow said. He stifled a grunt as he adjusted himself along the wall to sit comfortably. "The reaper takes on one form or another."

"That's the spirit," said Siegfried, shaking his flask to gauge the remainder of its contents. "I can't imagine this guy will have many places to hide, knowing what happened, nor does he know I'm on the hunt. I'll give you a few days to recover and heal those ribs before we head out. I last tracked his location by South Figaro, which will give us a head start."

Siegfried's grin faded. "What?"

"I'll agree on one condition," Shadow said. He was probably the only assassin among others with enough fortitude to keep a stern face when eye-to-eye with Siegfried, and he knew the man hated it. Once Siegfried was in a position that left him open to a bargaining chip, Shadow knew he couldn't refuse his next offer. "I'll help you track your imposter after we find Interceptor. If you believe that man's alive, I must believe my partner's alive, too."

Siegfried grimaced. "You and that damned mutt of yours." Shadow didn't take his eyes off him, waiting for reassurance. "Fine, we'll get your dog back."

Shadow forced a smile, mocking Siegfried. "Much obliged, master."

~.~

Noises forced Interceptor's ears to twitch and adjust, all attempting to pinpoint their sources. He lay on the ground; his head rested upon his front paws as he watched the surviving Thamasans gather what was left of their village while searching for survivors who had not reached the shelter.

The man who discovered the shelter - Liam, as Interceptor heard him be called by surviving villagers – worked with Gungho and the Mayor to tend to the injured while Lady Alissa joined the womenfolk to search for survivors. Interceptor was left in the care of the children.

The dog couldn't hide his surprise each time a hand would occasionally pet him on the head. He had never adjusted to the companionship of children save Relm, who was only an infant when he left the village to join Shadow. After what happened, the lack of her scent worried him, making his ears droop each time his mind dwelt on her whereabouts.

The air was still opaque with dust, obscuring what lay beyond the village. The scent of molten earth and sulfur penetrated Interceptor's orifices, masking any scent of the survivors. Even the smell of food was non-existent.

The children huddled close to him, still petrified over what they witnessed. Interceptor had seen the horrors of people dying from being ignited by the magma spewing from the earth or swept away by the strong winds. Some were swallowed by the earth itself when a fissure opened wide from the quaking.

Those among the children still bawling were scooped by their respective mothers to embrace them, soothing them with their voices. Interceptor noticed that adults were also grieving over losing a loved one. Who could blame them?

"…find a single trace, Mayor," said Liam as Interceptor's ears twitched towards them. "All the farmlands were stripped bare."

The Mayor paused, anticipating reactions from the other villagers. "I, I see. What of our food stores? Anything left?"

"Davis is on it as we speak." Liam pointed eastward. "Unless the storehouse is lost, too."

Interceptor followed Liam's hand past barren patches of land that once housed residences to what should've been a forest, now devoid of all but half a dozen trees that luckily held on with strong roots. Within those trees was a lone gravestone that fell over and a sword embedded in one of the trunks. Scorch marks obscured some of the lettering, leaving "He…l..s…Gen…Leo. Bra…sol…to the end."

The Storehouse Liam led the Mayor to was south of Leo's grave. Interceptor decided he'd like to join them on the realization that he hadn't eaten anything since that slim "treasure hunter" – his words, insisting he was not a "thief" - with a bandana bandaged him. He remembered that kind, smiling face going red whenever he was near the blonde woman and wondered if he had survived.

Or if any of them had survived.

As the men walked past magic users tending to the wounded, Liam had to catch one of them before they fainted. "I'm sorry, Mayor. I could only do so much," the Magi said, his voice shaking.

"Go and rest," said the Mayor. "You did what you could and saved another life. We'll search the storehouse and salvage what we can to be thankful for our survival," he stopped, glancing at Liam and the Magi before his voice lowered, "and to mourn those we lost."

Liam bent to pat Interceptor on the head. "Don't worry, boy. We won't forget you either. I think we owe you a debt of gratitude for warning us about the calamity."

Interceptor lifted his paw to rest it on Liam's arm as his gesture of thanks, mostly because he knew he would finally eat something.

When they reached the storehouse, it was surprisingly intact. Miraculous even. The Mayor skimmed his hand along an invisible surface that bent like the surface of an undisturbed body of water. "Thank goodness I placed those magical wards to fend off food thieves. We'd have been devoid of food otherwise."

"Save your thanks for Strago if we see him again," Liam iterated. "It was his idea to place a strong barrier that only you and he could disable."

Interceptor cared little for what the humans accomplished. Chomping his fangs down on some meat was his only priority. When the Mayor disabled the wards, Liam opened the large doors, revealing an array of items that would make anyone grateful something remained of the world before the Warring Triad wrecked it.

Interceptor feasted on a roast that was twice the size of his head. One by one, the men and women gathered what they could fit in their arms to bring to the town square, cleared of debris to set down cooking implements they found from a few houses that weren't torn apart.

The feast, for the most part, was celebrated in silence. Food was shared among the survivors, while parents still had to goad their stubborn children to be thankful for what they still had. Interceptor was too immersed in his meal to bother with them.

As he ate, Interceptor contemplated his next move. While his first thought was to find Shadow, he often thought about what became of the others. Especially Relm. Can a girl so young survive what was out there? Did she even survive the initial catastrophe? He paused to stare out across the Northern landscape, ears lowered. His heart would ache if neither of them survived.

However, there was another problem that Interceptor hadn't clued in on. The humans would've figured this out earlier, but Interceptor would not realize it until it directly faced him. Because Thamasa is a continent surrounded by water, how could a dog navigate to the nearest section of land without a boat or ship?

Nightfall brought an eerie silence to Thamasa. Because of its proximity to the ocean, farmers could relax while listening to the waves crash against the northern cape. But therein lay no sound: No waves, no wind to speak of, not even birds flying overhead. It was too quiet for anyone in the village.

Liam took a seat next to Interceptor, offering him leftovers from dinner. "Still hungry?"

Interceptor licked his teeth and lips, but after eating his fill, it was more of an afterthought. The man scratched him gently behind the ears, reminding him too often of Shadow. It ached to know that his partner was out there alone and probably as worried sick as he was.

Interceptor wasn't aware he whimpered under his breath. "I know. We suffered many losses, but we'll rebuild this village good as new," Liam told him. He ruffled the dog's head before retreating to his family. Interceptor watched them huddle together, Liam's wife sobbing as she held her children. He wouldn't be surprised if he'd encounter scenes similar to this during his travels later on. Grieving families piecing together what was taken from them and wondering what could be done to restore what was lost.

Despite the charred trees, a patch of grass was still near the lone grave. He thought it'd be an ideal place to curl up and sleep away from humans for the night. The skies were still thick with rolling clouds moving at immeasurable speeds, disturbing enough if you stare at them too long. Interceptor hoped that they wouldn't be so sparse in the days to come.

Morning light struggled to seep through the clouds, providing what little day for Interceptor to wake. He stretched and shook off the dirt and grass before assessing what to do while still in Thamasa. He didn't want to wait for the villagers to wake from their sleep, laying on the ground. Families huddled together peacefully, making Interceptor wonder if Relm and Strago would have found a place to rest.

It was decided, then.

If he can find Relm, at least she'd help him search for Shadow. It was as good a start as any.

Trotting southward to the village entrance, he spotted a thick fog across the landscape, obscuring sight and smell. All Interceptor could do was cross through the fog until it cleared up on the other side, opening the way to some semblance of a beach-like area. He could find something to float on while swimming to the nearest continent, hoping to expand his search.

What was also absent while in this fog was sound. Nothing discernable ahead, nothing his nose could track, and no sound to alert him to monsters or animals. Interceptor continued onward, knowing it was pointless to turn back.

He kept a steady pace until the fog began to thin, revealing land ahead. The land opened to the ocean with a sandy beach littered with fallen debris. Large rocks once connected to land, branches galore – if Interceptor fancied a game of fetch – and corpses.

As he approached the beach, he stopped when he locked eyes with a purple octopus, who had been busy hauling bodies to toss into the ocean. Many of the slain had clothing similar to that of Thamasans, which would've been a sobering reminder to those in the village of the devastation that picked off the less fortunate.

Interceptor recognized the octopus by its scent - a foulness that irked him. Baring his fangs, he growled at the creature, who raised his tentacles in surrender, dropping a pair of bodies on the sand.

"Hey! Easy! I-I don't want to do anything bad, okay?" the octopus said. Interceptor barked, which made one of the creature's tentacles rub its head quizzically. "What am I doing? This? Oh, well," he said, moving one body to place it gently beside the other. "Figured a little clean-up was in order. It's not like they're going anywhere."

Interceptor barked again, knowing that this octopus understood what he was saying. "They're from Thamasa? Oh dear," the octopus said, tentacle to his mouth. Those ugly fangs protruding from his jaw and lopsided eyes didn't give Interceptor any notion that he was the friendliest of creatures to interact with, but he hedged a guess that he might know where Relm was or whether she survived.

"I didn't toss all of them into the ocean, though. If you want, I can dive in and put them back on the beach," the octopus offered, gliding across the sand to sink into the water. Bubbles formed at the surface before body after body was thrown back onto the beach. Interceptor bounded back to avoid being splashed by whatever it was that shared in the octopus's filth. When he was done, ten bodies were retrieved, and the octopus was clasping his front tentacles together as if praying for Interceptor not to make a meal out of him.

He approached the soaked corpses and barked at the octopus. "Relm…?"

The dog tilted his head. Seriously? This octopus didn't know who Relm was.

"Sorry, my memory ain't that great, but the name does sort of sound familiar, now that you mention it," said the octopus, tapping his temple with a tentacle.

Interceptor ignored the octopus while inspecting the bodies. A human would've found it heartbreaking to see men, women, and children among the deceased, blown away and tossed to the ocean before they were washed ashore once everything calmed down. But for Interceptor, he was used to the sight of death so often that he wanted to confirm that none of the children looked or smelled like Relm.

The air and scent of corpses caused him to sneeze, which spooked the octopus. "Uh, she's not dead, is she?" asked the octopus.

Interceptor's ears twitched while he resumed his search. Nose to the sand, he followed along, scouting the beach for signs of life. The wafting scent of dead fish notwithstanding, he could still discern human from animal, which he needed if he was going to find some trace of a living human around here, if possible.

"Say…," said the octopus as he glided behind him. Interceptor glanced back a moment. "I don't suppose you'd like a hand in finding this Relm person?"

Interceptor barked back at him. "Yeah, my nose obviously can't do things like yours. But I can still be useful. I mean, if you're looking for a living human, there's a girl over there who is rather, um, grumpy."

The dog paused before considering the octopus's suggestion. He tracked the air to lock onto the girl's scent and it matched Relm's. Bolting ahead, he leaped over boulders to land on the other side where Relm was in clear view, seated on the beach watching the water ahead.

Barking to get her attention, Relm continued staring ahead. Her face had relaxed into a scowl, with her eyebrows emphasizing a level of anger no living creature would dare approach. Interceptor wanted to shower her with kisses to the face but halted upon seeing her.

"See? Told you she was grumpy," said the octopus. Interceptor approached her cautiously and sat before her, hoping a familiar face would ease her expression.

He barked a couple of times, awaiting the octopus's translation. "That's Relm? Wait a minute…," the octopus said before he leered towards her. He then let out a yelp and backed off to the boulder. "Now I remember! The scary artist who sketched me! Back away, doggie, before she sketches you too!"

Interceptor turned his head to him, ears lowered. "Don't give me that look! She's got nasty powers!"

He barked a couple of times. "Well, at least one of us is glad to see her," said the octopus, crossing a couple of his tentacles. "I've been keeping an eye on her and giving her food I scrounged up around the area so she wouldn't starve to death. Had I known she was that little psychopath artist who made a mockery of me, the great Ultros, I'd have left her in the deep abyss."

That giant head of his tilted to the side to emphasize how distraught he looked, which made Interceptor groan. He barked a few times.

"Well, you're welcome, I guess," said Ultros. He raised a tentacle to his eyes, looking outward to the ocean. "Mr. Typhon should've been back by now."

Interceptor barked once. "I wouldn't be surprised if you never met him, Mr. Doggie. He takes some getting used to," said Ultros. He rubbed the top of his head out of habit, blowing sand away with a heavy sigh.

The dog's ears twitched, listening for sounds of creatures approaching the beach area. While still eerily quiet, he ignored the octopus for now and sat near Relm. It was the least he could do for now.

If he had a long enough tail, he'd be sweeping sand by now while waiting for Relm to acknowledge him. She'd have to know the dog who knew her when she was a newborn babe had survived the calamity to stay with her and offer protection. But her expression never changed nor wavered. "Leave me alone," was all she told him.

He rose just as quickly as he sat, whimpering softly in his throat. How bad had things become that this sweet girl's eccentric attitude gave way to such contempt? Even her voice sounded empty. Leave me alone.

Interceptor took his chances and settled for waiting with the octopus for this Mr. Typhon to return, wherever he was.

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed since Interceptor lay next to Ultros. Minutes? Or hours? He kept his nose to the air, waiting for some unique smell to make its way, giving him an idea about whether this was Mr. Typhon. Ultros busied himself snagging fish that had still survived, only to toss them freely into his wide gaping jaw. Those unsightly fangs of his didn't seem to serve any purpose, Interceptor noticed, not while throwing fish directly into his mouth without chewing.

After devouring at least a dozen fish, Interceptor's nose picked up a new scent, and he shook his head. Nothing could have prepared him for the foulness that could make rotting fish smell like garden flowers. "It's about time!" Ultros shouted, throwing two tentacles in the air. "Were you sightseeing the apocalypse or something!?"

Mr. Typhon was a creature Interceptor had not expected to see. Yet given how ugly this octopus looked, it wouldn't surprise him that he'd keep such company. In flew a creature with two sets of mouths, one at the front and one that replaced the creature's rear end. Each mouth bore two rows of discolored fangs that could eat anything. Did this creature have a stomach of sorts? And which mouth did it eat with? Its body, whatever it was, had pink tones that Interceptor wasn't sure if it was fur or flesh. As for sounds, Mr. Typhon only had one: "FUUNNGAAHHHH!"

Interceptor barked furiously at the creature. Terrifying to see a foul-smelling bi-mouthed spectacle of horror, which only ignited the dog's instincts to protect what mattered the most to him. He backed himself near Relm, eyes still trained on Mr. Typhon and Ultros. Why did this octopus keep that as a companion?

"Relax, Mr. Doggie. Mr. Typhon was only apologizing for being late. Do you know how hard it is to navigate the skies when you have giant cyclones and a creature that bears the face of death ready to kill you?" Ultros explained, which didn't seem to alleviate matters. Interceptor wanted no part of that Typhon, tardy or not. He continued barking, bounding from side to side, ready to dig his fangs into the creature to bleed it out – if the creature bled in the first place.

Each time Typhon spewed that FUNGAHH sound, it reminded Interceptor of a bleating sheep with a stuffed nose, though more hollow and deeper. He watched the back-and-forth between Typhon and Ultros until the octopus signaled with a tentacle for Typhon to back away. It seemed to understand Ultros well enough, easing the tension for now.

Ultros approached him. "Mr. Typhon surveyed the landscapes and found a nearby continent southwest of here where he could take you and find a city – assuming it's intact and there are still survivors."

Interceptor barked and growled at Typhon. Ultros's tentacles waved in front of him. "No, you have it all wrong, Mr. Doggie! Mr. Typhon is more scared of you than you are of him. Honest! He may be taciturn, but he's good at doing what I ask. If you want off this island, there are no better means of travel than Mr. Typhon, for now."

He glanced back at Relm.

"Relm?" Ultros asked. "I can watch over her. I'm a changed octopus! I swear it on all monster-kind!"

Interceptor's eyes lowered. Ultros wasn't serious, was he? What kind of dog does he take him for? Leave Relm under the care of that?

"I can tell you don't look like the kind of dog who wants to stay in one town forever. You've got some travel under you, right?" Ultros asked. Interceptor barked.

"I used to be a mischief-making octopus. Funny how a few run-of-the-mill magic users can change your perspective on things. It also doesn't help that all of this end-of-the-world stuff happened. Doesn't make for much interest in the mischief-making business anymore. So I, the great Ultros, vow to change my ways and help people, sort of."

Interceptor tilted his head at those last two words. "I'll prove it to you. How about that? I already started by ensuring Relm over there is well-fed with lots of goodies I gave her."

Ultros wasn't wrong on that aspect, Interceptor realized. While it did show signs Relm cooked and ate, her scowl remained unchanged. Ultros had clued in on it and kept his distance while leaving food for her. Interceptor learned while traveling with his partner that trust was something you never gave anyone unless earned or bought for the right price. While Ultros couldn't spare a gil if his life depended on it, his altruism did win over a sliver of trust. In light of a world torn apart, it would have to do.

He began trotting over to Mr. Typhon, barking several times at Ultros. "Look after the girl while you search for your partner? Oh, okay. I'm happy you're letting me do this, Mr. Doggie."

Ultros waved a tentacle at Typhon. The creature bleated its unusual undulation and exposed his back for Interceptor to climb on. What the dog assumed of Typhon's flesh was a mixture of reptilian scales and, surprisingly, fur. What was this creature?

"Now, don't take too long, Mr. Typhon. I don't want that girl getting ideas about cooking me into seafood soup, understand?" Ultros instructed Typhon, earning a soured look from Interceptor. "What!?"

The dog nestled into a divot on Typhon's back. It was the best spot he could find to settle in, hoping that this thing was good on his word to follow Ultros's instruction. Typhon naturally rose to the air, using what Interceptor realized was its rear mouth to propel itself by expelling air. "Be sure to keep your nose clear so you don't sneeze again, Mr. Typhon!" Ultros shouted, which alarmed the dog. Sneeze!? "I forgot to mention Mr. Typhon has some allergies, but it's only worse when he's high up!"

That didn't assure Interceptor whatsoever, and he hoped it wouldn't become a reality while flying above the water. He didn't want to know what kind of sneezing this thing did, nor did he want to take a chance swimming the rest of the way.

~.~

Shadow was neither bothered by how efficiently Siegfried killed people who dared ambush them for a pick of their belongings nor how often the bastard made a snide comment about Interceptor. What bothered him was traveling in this scorched world without his veil and ninja garb. He was back to being Clyde, the infamous Shadow Bandit. Even Siegfried remained unveiled, mocking him with that gold tooth each time he reared his head to smile.

"Let me know when ya get tired, there," Siegfried said with a cheeky tone. The broken ribs continued to make Shadow's breathing labored, and it didn't help that the air was different. It was like walking in the oncoming path of a volcano that had just erupted, leaving ash and sulfur in its wake. The stench of burnt trees, animals, humans, and grass festered everywhere as they trekked northward from Albrook.

Reading from a map he stole from a corpse, Siegfried snorted derisively. "Map's about as useful as a Chocobo's fart, nowadays." Crumpling the paper in his hands, he tossed it back to Shadow. "If you're looking for Vector, forget it. Should've been here by now."

Siegfried alluded to the smoldering ruins that was once the majestic Imperial capital of the world. Now it was anything but.

Siegfried whistled through his teeth. "Damn. Guess them magic gods loathed the Empire somethin' fierce, lemme tell ya."

They watched as pieces of Vector floated towards the imposing tower Kefka had been assembling for several days. It mattered not what was drawn to the tower. A construct with no logic to it could only be the work of a madman of Kefka's repute. When they saw abandoned Magitek riding armors pulled away from the wreckage, Siegfried signaled Shadow to move on. "Let 'im busy himself, Clyde. I doubt he cares enough about people walking by, so long as they don't think themselves heroes."

They were shown a clear example of those brave enough to be heroic, standing tall to yell at Kefka while he was perched at the top of his tower, brandishing swords, spears, and axes. Kefka laughed and fired a beam of light that vaporized the "protestors" where they stood. No signs of clothing, weapons, or body parts. They disintegrated into nothing. Siegfried witnessed the power of this new weapon Kefka wielded, firing it some distance away. Whatever it targeted became the first of many victims in Kefka's new reign as the god of the world.

The devastation of Vector was so intense that not even the mountains surrounding the capital were left intact. The magic of the Warring Triad eviscerated and flattened the landscape, rearranging the terrain of the entire continent. What remained became grafted onto Kefka's tower, as if the jester himself wanted an homage to the world by building a tower made from the Triad's gift.

They camped for the night near an array of charred boulders, still sizzling from what had struck them. What constituted the fat of the land didn't offer much except burnt animals and uprooted orchards from Emperor Gestahl's private garden. Some apples were left intact, thankfully spared from being incinerated, which Shadow and Siegfried partook in, using their knives to carve and slice to eat. It wasn't much, but they gathered what they could for the road.

"Tzen's about a two-day walk from Vector," Siegfried noted, drawing an X on the ground with a twig. "If this is Vector," he circled a rock, "and that's Tzen, we could see about securing some transportation that'll take us north to the Figaro continent."

"How can we be sure when Tzen has no port?" Shadow asked.

There was that smile again. "Never said anything about a port, Clyde. But they must have a fishing boat we could use," Siegfried retorted, biting on an apple slice.

As they sat, embers from the surrounding ruins provided enough heat and light to sustain warmth, giving the two a view of the procession of humans walking aimlessly toward an unknown destination. The same phenomenon that occurred a few days ago that Siegfried noted, only more citizens from Albrook left, walking like the dead. What even Siegfried found disturbing was that they were smiling.

"Should one of us stand watch?" Shadow asked. Siegfried shook his head.

"I've observed enough of their behavior that they don't see anything except where they're going. Creepiest damn thing I've ever seen, and I've seen some messed-up shit in my lifetime, boy."

The fact that the end of the world was not the worst thing Siegfried had seen in his life was telling. If Baram had been around long enough, Shadow would've wondered if he'd be scolded for hiding while the Warring Triad destroyed everything. What better chance to rob the gods themselves, buddy?

Shadow marked with an X where he believed Maranda, Albrook, and even Thamasa were located, the latter further away with a circle around it to indicate its own island. The landscape to their east was once joined to this continent, only it detached and floated to the sky. It felt like ages ago when Shadow found himself among the clouds and a strange party of people begging him to join them. If Interceptor survived, he'd still be in Thamasa if he hadn't succumbed to the stab wound first. Those who committed the act were likely dead by now, which robbed Shadow of performing the deed himself. Now all he could do was hope his partner was as resilient as he believed him to be.

His hope was blindsided by laughter from Siegfried. "You really got that emotionless act down to a tee, doncha Clyde?" He pointed at the procession of people. "They don't freak you out, do they?"

Shadow said nothing at first. He observed people devoid of humanity march forward, all headed in the same direction. "We should turn in for the night."

"Suit yourself," said Sigfried, stretching. The charred ground could still provide some comfort, according to Siegfried. Shadow lounged against a fallen tree trunk to rest his head, using his bag as a pillow.

"You're welcome to gut me like a fish if ya feel lucky enough," Siegfried said, mocking Shadow. Was this some attempt at prodding for an emotional response? Despite his teasing, Shadow knew better not to contemplate assassinating his mentor while still in his prime. Shadow wondered what would become of his fate when the job was done once this fake Seigfried was disposed of.

Tzen was no worse for wear after the apocalypse, the still-smoking tendrils from burnt houses pluming in the air. Shadow scanned for survivors, only to find several huddled in small groups to maintain warmth among each other. While not devoid of life as those walking aimlessly across the barren wasteland, he still identified similar expressions he had noted from those in Albrook.

"Guess we're not expecting a welcoming committee, are we?" asked Siegfried in his best presentable smile. Shadow doubted that even the best attempt at pressing his charm would deter them from their trauma. He ignored Siegfried and marched up the still-intact stairway to the town square.

Despite imperial occupation before the calamity, Tzen was still a welcoming hamlet north of Vector. What few houses stood at the time housed strong boys eager to enlist in the Empire to serve Gestahl proudly. Even after many attempts by their concerned mothers, those who returned to them as grizzled soldiers now wore faces full of confusion, fear, and hopelessness. Shadow could read it in their eyes as if they were asking him what good could they do to serve an Empire that no longer existed. Imperial soldiers sat with their heads in their hands, casques discarded to the side without care.

Shadow watched Siegfried ask where they could find a boat to cross the ocean to South Figaro since the Albrook harbor was demolished. Yet all Shadow could hear of the survivors were hushed wailings and mothers calling the names of their offspring while searching through wrecked houses. He would not be surprised if every town and city were like this.

He tugged at Siegfried's sleeve. "You're wasting your breath."

"Come now," Siegfried said, motioning to an imperial soldier who still looked like a man with all his faculties intact. "Not everyone's gotta be a sourpuss like you, Clyde."

Shadow gave him a look before addressing the soldier. "We're looking for a way off this continent. Are there any boats left intact?"

"'Fraid not," said the soldier. "The Empire confiscated all sea travel months ago. General Leo ordered commerce restricted to protect trading between Albrook and Nikeah in case of a Returner ambush."

"Ain't he a smart fella, huh?" Siegfried said to Shadow. "Sorry to bother ya, then."

"If you're not too busy, we could use an extra pair of hands to search for survivors," the soldier offered, but Siegfried clapped him twice on the shoulder.

"Not unless ya pay us handsomely, fella," he said, airing that toothy grin of his. Although the soldier didn't react, Shadow could determine that he was teetering on defeat.

Siegfried signaled for Shadow to follow him. "How much…?" asked the soldier. "If it has to come to that, it'll at least ensure you help us."

"Five grand," Siegfried said, adding, "each" before the soldier could say anything.

The soldier paused before one of the citizens rose from their group to round on Seigfried. "How dare you swindle us for gil in a time like this?!" said a woman well into her late fifties by the looks of her hair, the beginnings of grayness blended with her dark hair. "What good does having gil get you? Look at this place!"

She does have a point; Shadow imagined Baram saying in his head. Was there any worth now in earning gil so soon after what one assumed all cities burned to ash and well over half the population decimated?

Siegfried continued smiling despite the woman's objection. "My dear, you underestimate the capability of people. Crisis brings opportunity, and this is your opportunity to hire the best men for any task you have at hand."

She reached back to strike Seigfried, but the soldier's hand gently lowered her arm via her wrist. "Let me handle this."

He ushered her back to her group, the woman mouthing "it's not right" several times within earshot. Shadow gave Siegfried a look. "Am I wrong, Clyde?" Siegfried said while still observing the soldier.

"What are you planning on accomplishing with ten thousand gil?" Shadow asked.

"Did that fall scramble your noggin that much?" Seigfried retorted. "Remember one of the first lessons I taught you: Money buys many things, but the most valuable asset to invest in is information."

He leaned in closer to Shadow. "We'll get our worth here until we have enough of a nest egg to buy our info, which should lead us to our target much faster. I've a feeling greed's going to become quite the popular sin soon."

That smile never left him, Shadow noted. When the soldier returned, he offered a bag full of coins. "Five thousand now, and the rest when the job's done. Deal?"

Shadow felt his shoulder tapped from behind. Siegfried could still sneak up on him in plain sight, no matter what. "Pleasure doin' business with ya, son! Clyde, be so kind as to take the man's gil, will ya?"

Seigfried immediately went to work, being a man of his word. Shadow and the soldier watched him move debris around with survivors while he added the bag of gil to his belongings. "Thanks, stranger. We really do appreciate it," the soldier said before he joined Siegfried. At least he didn't negotiate for an assassin's fee.

~.~

Two months have passed since the calamity sundered the world with the Warring Triad's chaotic magic. Two whole months of unending terror beset by Kefka atop his completed tower, destroying random things across the planet.

Towns were not spared the god's insanity. The attack people have dubbed the "Light of Judgment" served as punishment for whoever dared take a stand.

People eventually learned not to curry Kefka's wrath as they discretely rebuilt their homes. No one spoke his name without risking a heavy price. Some were too fearful to even speak of him in hushed tones, wondering if his power was such that he could read their minds.

Among those who had survived, several left unexpectedly from their towns to march forward in one direction. Families split as fathers and mothers began leaving without saying a word. Those who witnessed this phenomenon called it a curse as if they fell under Kefka's magical influence. The ones who left all had the same vacant expression, save one disturbing feature: they were smiling as they left.

The procession of people confused Interceptor after he disembarked Typhon along the outskirts of a city he would later hear people call Nikeah. The townspeople fought to pull the deserters back, but they walked like people possessed, walking with a strength the unaffected had never thought possible. Interceptor noticed they walked with a purpose, and no one could stop them short of killing them.

The dog searched the city for a sign of Shadow, but the man's scent was nowhere within his range. It was challenging, however, given that Nikeah was a port city with a harbor that had seen better days after the calamity, and much of the market was saturated in smells of charred seafood and produce that the citizens weren't certain they could ever get rid of, let alone mask with a pleasant odor. For Interceptor, the scent nearly made him faint.

Throughout his two-month stay at Nikeah, he had familiarized himself with varying hotspots where much of the hustle and bustle surrounded the reconstruction of the harbor to enable trading once again. Their priority was to rebuild the fishing boats and transport ships, while fishermen did what they could to replenish their supply, and specialists reworked their inventory lists.

Interceptor, a dog who had spent much of his life avoiding the presence of humans except the ones he assisted Shadow in assassinating, found himself the center of attention and talk of the town after many humans and animals perished in the calamity. Those who managed to survive fled Nikeah without any of the citizens knowing where they were headed. Seeing a dog present once again served as a morale boost. Interceptor figured this would have to suffice for now until either Shadow made his way here or Interceptor boarded a ship the sailors said would still be bound for South Figaro.

One day, as the crewmen lowered their first completed ship into the water, Interceptor detected a foulness in the air. He watched the crew attentively until he narrowed his scent to one man who slacked in his work.

"Hey! Tell that guy to get a move on! We need everyone lowering this simultaneously!" shouted the crew chief. The crew stopped, holding their ropes taut. All eyes turned to the man in question, who began chuckling. Interceptor's reaction was immediate.

He approached the crew, baring his teeth and growling. Barking repeatedly at the crewman as his chuckling escalated to gales of laughter, the behavior caused discomfort among the rest of the crew while their grip loosened.

"What are you all doing?! Secure the ropes!" the chief bellowed. He grunted as he tightened his grip, expecting his men to follow, but the laughter had the same ominous tone they had heard from those afflicted with this curse of madness that drew them away from the city to who knows where.

He reached behind to take a knife he had concealed under his loose shirt and would've swung at the others had Interceptor not clamped his jaws onto the man's forearm to force the knife out of his hand.

As Interceptor wrestled the crazed man away from the crew, the man continued laughing. He did not react to the bite nor indicate that he was feeling pain from the impact. He laughed and continued to laugh until his face turned to Interceptor.

For the briefest of moments, the man's face flashed to reveal Kefka's; only his eyes were bloodshot and piercing like a bolt of lightning. Throughout his lifetime, very little agitated Interceptor. There was very little the Empire could've done to impress him, much less terrify him. But there was one incident where he and Shadow had run into Kefka as he pranced about on his way somewhere. For that incident, the jester glanced in Interceptor's direction and locked eyes with the dog. In that instance, Interceptor backed down, lowering his tail until he realized seconds later it was between his legs. Something about Kefka's gaze rattled him, leaving him whimpering.

He never figured he'd see Kefka again, not counting his presence atop his tower ruling like a god. But seeing that face staring back at him for a microsecond caused Interceptor to back off fervently, releasing his grip on the crazed man's arm.

The man ignored the knife as he trod forward. He, like many before him, was lost to the madness. While the incident stretched for hours to Interceptor, the rest of the crew had seconds to stabilize their grip on the ropes, which increased its resistance with the absence of one man.

"Steady!" shouted the chief. He sounded hopeful despite what had happened a moment ago, which motivated the crew to finish the job. Once the ship was safely lowered into the water, the crew released the ropes, agonizing over the pain they experienced in their hands and their morale. Another man succumbed to the madness without cause or reason.

"Bloody hell, that stings," said one crewman, blowing into his hands.

While others echoed the sentiment, one crewman who could not ignore what happened addressed the chief. "Sir, how many more of us are going to leave like that?"

The chief shook his head, shrugging. He had no words other than the one displayed on his face: disappointment. "Sir?"

The chief instead approached Interceptor and pet him on the head behind his ear. "Thanks, lad."

The dog's ears dropped. Interceptor was thanked for saving the crew from being slashed and stabbed, but this victory was bittersweet. He could not avoid the foul scent of rotting meat and sulfur that preceded this madness, detecting it before the laughter began settling in. But this was the first time an afflicted human being froze him with the eyes of insanity that only Kefka could wield.

He grew quite fond of the chief, a steadfast man of conviction and leadership who inspired others to follow his lead and help rebuild Nikeah. With the anguish raining down on the survivors after the initial calamity and an attack from the Light of Judgment striking the northern sector, people were still willing to rebuild and continue as if nothing had afflicted them. After successfully lowering their first ship into the water, exhaustion settled into the chief.

The chief's scent had not strayed too far, allowing Interceptor to catch up to him. He figured they could use each other's company for the rest of the day.

Nikeah's rebuild, much like many other towns and cities on the planet would take months, if not years. Survivors gathered in groups to occupy homes that miraculously withstood the calamity. The naval chief slumped down at his home onto a recliner, watching as other families had huddled together over an open flame some volunteered to keep ignited. Interceptor lay his chin on the recliner's armrest, glancing up at the chief as if awaiting another pet. He waited until he realized that the chief had already entered sleep no sooner than when his body hit the recliner.

Interceptor had observed several families still shell-shocked over the aftermath of the calamity to interact with others in the city. Their behavior reminded him of Relm as she sat on that beach, glaring at the ocean. Perhaps once the fleet of trading ships was completed and ready to launch, it would entice the survivors to unite for a common purpose. The chief dreamt it would become a reality again, where Nikeah would become the hub of commerce and trade once again despite Kefka's rule.

Sometime later, while not a full fleet, the naval crew completed a second trading ship that doubled as a fishing boat. Wiping his brow, he congratulated his crew.

"Lookit that, lads. We're back in business. Let no beast or man sink our pride and joy," the chief regaled. The crew paused, expecting a Light of Judgment attack, but no attack had struck Nikeah for at least a fortnight. Cheering resumed, including several pats on Interceptor's head. While the dog watched the rebuild, he was still congratulated for his company. It was something, at least.

"Shall we set sail for South Figaro, chief?" asked one of the crewmen.

"Aye."

"You heard the chief, boys! Let's get it ready for sail!"

Interceptor tagged along, which puzzled the crew at first, but this was his chance to travel off the land since his trip on Typhon's back. Once the plank had been secured between the dock and the ship, Interceptor immediately boarded. "Wasting no time, eh?" the chief laughed while directing everyone.

Taking a spot at the ship's bow, Interceptor excitedly panted while waiting for the ropes to be hauled back and the wind to pick up behind the sails to propel the ship forward. The feel of the wind against his face was much like the wind from when he was on the ferry bound for Thamasa from Albrook. He only wished Shadow was on board with him. If his partner could find the means to travel, he'd make for South Figaro, too. Interceptor's instinct had been telling him for some time that if there were a city they'd reunite at, South Figaro would be the place.

~.~

One thing Shadow noted over the past several months of rebuilding Tzen was the return of carrier pigeons, bringing messages from other towns and cities that miraculously survived the apocalypse. Though brief, it did bring a general sense of relief on the faces of Tzen's inhabitants. Faces tight with anguish relaxed and ebbed, adjusted to the permanent change in the atmosphere.

It still left Shadow brooding at the campsite he and Seigfried set up after receiving their generous payment. The former Imperial Soldier, whom the visitors had learned was Darius, left them a chest to place their accumulated collection of gil for doing odd jobs around town. Seigfried regaled and entertained the townspeople with his song-and-dance, fancy swordplay, and, to Shadow's chagrin, a precise display of target practice with daggers that hit the center of a target Darius set up for him. To this day, Shadow would not give Seigfried the satisfaction of watching his emotions surface. To this day, as bleak as the world became, they were still discarded.

He saw first-hand what attachment to emotions brought to the townspeople in response to the calamity. Despondency gave way to fits of anger and sadness. Some even gave in to the strange madness that's afflicted several survivors, enticing them to migrate northeast to the area they learned was once the Serpent Trench. A calamity so powerful it unearthed a once deep underwater channel, whose currents were merciless to even the most versatile of ships.

While Seigfried was paid for labor and entertainment, Shadow was goaded into acting as a protector. Seigfried found it hilarious that an "assassin" the caliber of Shadow would be reduced to the town's "savior." At least it was a paying job to kill monsters attempting to attack Tzen's inhabitants.

One morning, the pair were awakened by a bright flash of light and a loud explosion that shook the area. "The hell?!" shouted Siegfried. He bolted from his cot to the source of the explosion.

Shadow, meanwhile, glanced back at the Tower south of Tzen. It was another Light of Judgment attack from Kefka. Though infrequent and random, it still carried a great deal of power behind its strike that leveled one of the houses, tossing debris and bystanders unfortunate enough to be nearby.

One question surfaced in Shadow's mind as he watched Siegfried leap into action, calling for Darius to help tend to those immediately affected by the impact. Was all this a genuine act of compassion or a long game he played to reap the rewards and bathe himself in gil?

"Clyde!" Siegfried shouted as if his face was a mixture of desperation and eagerness. "Get off your ass and give me a hand, will ya?!"

The sight of people rescued from the smoldering, nearly collapsing building brought him back to that night in Thamasa. The same hint of sulfur burned through the mask into his nostrils as he watched Interceptor pull her from the flames, Terra and Locke among them, along with that old codger, Strago. It was as if he watched himself through the eyes of Siegfried while he aided Darius to hold up debris for villagers to pull out the owner of the house, a man pushing his fifties with a beaten-down shirt to accentuate it.

"Clyde!" Siegfried's voice echoed in his ears, louder this time as if breaking through Shadow's self-imposed mantra of memory. Shadow ambled towards the wreckage, still indifferent to the fiasco that unfolded. Watching Siegfried reminded him even more of Interceptor pulling the girl to safety. He wasn't certain whether he saw Siegfried pull a girl free from the wreckage as flames crescendoed or he hallucinated that night.

The next thing he realized was a firm grip on his shoulders, being shaken. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Get these people to safety!"

Shadow blinked, still frozen and lost in thought. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you, Siegfried? Since when did you ever care about others?

Whether it was the aftereffects of a world gone mad from destruction or living with these people for months, a second pair of hands pulled Shadow away. "Clyde, we really could use an extra pair of hands," said Darius. Shadow ignored Siegfried for now and gave Darius a quick nod.

As he aided Darius, Shadow watched the soldier command villagers, directing those strong enough to carry survivors to safety while assigning medics to tend to the injured. Darius pointed Shadow toward a water source villagers used to douse the flames.

Shadow found himself the least compelled to provide aid, passing filled buckets to villagers. The more frantic everything looked before him, the lesser the expression on his face. During their training, assassins were not taught to feel compassion or sympathy for the victim. "Victims were unclaimed paychecks," Siegfried would tell him. Yet why was this very man going against his word?

If he could feel an emotion right now, it would be disgust.

It took them until dawn to assess the damage and extinguish the flames. Sadly, only one villager had not survived, shown to have taken much of the blast from the Light of Judgment.

The slain villager was a kind woman in her thirties who had delivered a fresh set of clothes her daughter had once worn, eager to give them to the house owner's daughter. That wanton feeling of disgust was eager to resurface in Shadow as he watched Siegfried lead a vigil to mourn her loss, arm wrapped around the girls' shoulders. How much longer are you going to maintain this façade, Siegfried?

Siegfried turned to Shadow as if he heard his thoughts spoken clearly. "Do try to shed a tear at least, Clyde. It might help convince these fine folks you give a shit."

"And you do…?" Shadow retorted. Siegfried's face tensed, releasing the girl to be comforted by Darius.

"You can't fool me with this act," Shadow whispered, nodding past Seigfried at the villagers.

"It's not an act, Clyde. Dunno if it was the end of the world or spending time with these folks that's got me to change. But it'd do you some good to change, too."

Shadow averted a few scowls directed at him, most notably from Seigfried. "At least one of us decided to."

Shadow turned to leave, shrugging off Siegfried's hand in some vain attempt to keep him planted to the ground. "So you're gonna leave again, just like that?" Seigfried called to him. If that was an attempt to instill guilt for his indifference, Shadow hadn't noticed it.

"I didn't stop here to mingle with common townspeople. This was only meant to be a stopping point on my way to find Interceptor. Besides, wasn't this all to acquire gil for information regarding that fake Siegfried? Whatever happened to that plan?"

Siegfried paused, glancing back and forth between the bewildered and aggrieved villagers and their campsite. He then walked past Shadow to his belongings and pulled out a bag full of coins tossing it to him. "Take it. That's your share of the earnings."

Tying the bag to his pack, he slung it over his shoulders. "C'mon Clyde," Seigfried said, stepping in front. "Stay a couple more months. We'll leave for South Figaro afterward to find your dog."

Shadow gave him a look that, although it bore no expression, told his old mentor he had made up his mind a few minutes ago. If what the scouts had reported were true, then there was a way across the landscape to reach Nikeah and see whether they had reacquired naval transportation. That was his only means to reach South Figaro. At least this way, he wouldn't have Seigfried slowing him down with his constant chatter and vain attempt to act human.

"Last chance to change your mind, Clyde," Siegfried said in his best friendly tone that Shadow continued to cast doubt upon.

Shadow narrowed his eyes. "Clyde died a long time ago. His shadow is all that roams the world, now."

Brushing Seigfried aside, Shadow trekked forward without looking back once. But his mentor wasn't without one last jab. "Baram would've helped them, at least!"

If another emotion would've returned to him, Shadow would've chuckled.

~.~

Interceptor continued aiding the townspeople of South Figaro, which for the most part might not even be called "South" Figaro, anymore. The ship navigating the waters after leaving Nikeah noted a significant shift in the landscape from what the captain could describe. Even from a distance, several crewmembers noted a sizable portion of land had connected itself southward from Nikeah. They concluded it might have been the Serpent Trench itself, but ther was no way to prove their theory unless they navigated it by foot. Whoever had left Nikeah went south, never to be seen again, all bearing that vacant disturbing gaze of insanity on their faces. The sailors prayed nightly for sanity to return to those who were lost, but they weren't sure which god would answer their call. The more time passed, the more they were led to believe that Kefka was the only god of the world ruling over the broken.

"Hand me that hammer, would you?" asked one of the Figaroans from his scaffold. Interceptor fetched a hammer from the man's toolbox, reaching up to let him grab it from his jaws. "Thanks, boy."

His tail waged casually. Even without his partner, he had been accustomed enough to human interaction that simple notes of praise and compliments made him relax while in town. If Shadow could see him, he'd think the dog had lost his edge and given up on his career. Interceptor was not one to give up, however. He knew this would be the ideal place to wait for Shadow, if and when he'd show himself. The moment that scent of his would become traceable, Interceptor would be overwhelmed with excitement. He suppressed that urge, for now, focusing mainly on helping these humans rebuild Figaro to what it used to be. Months worth of reconstruction had these people working tirelessly, barring a stray blast from the Light of Judgment. Rather than being whipped into a frenzy, the townspeople stared back defiantly. No matter how many times it strikes Figaro, Kefka would not end us, they'd say.

Since he disembarked the boat, Interceptor had heard several conversations regarding Figaro, mainly the fate of the castle and its king, Edgar. Idle gossip regarding King Edgar ranged from the King dying from the cataclysm to hiding in the castle, never to come out. Some even spread rumors that he had run off with one of his concubines and married her in secret. Those rumors were eventually quashed by the first attack from the Light of Judgment upon the city. Any talk of Edgar ceased soon after once the people worked on rebuilding.

It also became an afterthought once the first signs of a ship arrived at the port from Nikeah. People were hopeful that trading would resume despite the cataclysm, yet whatever goods remained were scarce. Some noted how several crates of produce that looked fresh magically turned rotten or had spouted legs and ran off in all directions. An unfortunate effect of the twisted power Kefka wielded upon the world.

One thing that Interceptor did not expect was that Chocobos had survived. The wranglers had a field day with the birds, however, exhausting themselves to calm them down. Animals that were once docile all were agitated and frightened of the events that transpired months earlier. Attempts to ride the Chocobos initially were met with injury with unlucky souls trounced upon by their sharp talons, scurrying off until the wrangler captured them some distance away.

Interceptor lent a hand herding the birds back to their pens to rest and re-acclimate themselves in a familiar environment, which led to a mutual understanding between the animals. Interceptor only needed to give them a stern look and the birds calmed down.

As if the rumors spoken months earlier of King Edgar's whereabouts weren't enough, a stranger who bore a striking resemblance to Edgar was seen around the Chocobo stables, speaking with the wrangler. His clothing looked too disheveled to be of royalty from what Interceptor remembered. He pictured the King in embroidered silks tailored in haute couture, from a buttoned top to elegant trousers, polished boots, and fashionable riding gloves that saw no wear and tear. A well-coiffed gentleman who sauntered with elegance and poise did not match any characteristic of the man who introduced himself as Gerad to the wrangler. His hair might have been bathed in the entire desert, dusted enough as it was that the dog was certain had never seen the contents of a fragrant bath. What should've been a royal coat was a torn ugly dark gray cloak Gerad might have fished from a dumpster during his travels, with none of the finesse of a King on display. If Edgar had seen this Gerad, he'd probably have called him a filthy beggar.

Yet for some reason, Interceptor couldn't shake the feeling he'd seen Gerad before. Even the way the man looked at him. He interpreted it as recognition of sorts. He tracked Gerad's scent, wondering if that would trigger a memory, yet the only time he had met Edgar was in this very town so long ago. He may not have had enough time to graft a scent into his memory to recognize the King should he ever show up. If Gerad really was the King working undercover, he masked his scent effectively to confuse a dog like Interceptor.

However, investigating the connection between Gerad and Edgar did not last long as the stranger had left for Nikeah according to passing conversations among the women Gerad had made a pass at. At least that was similar between the two from the time Interceptor witnessed the King flirting with a barmaid at the pub at first glance.

~.~

Cold, bitter winds blew across the landscape during Shadow's trek along the surfaced Serpent Trench. There were traces of water erosion along the soil that had dried up, yet there was no mistaking the shapes rocks took after enduring considerable water damage over the years.

Magic reshaped the world, rearranged continents, moved cities to new locations that no map could locate, and all matter of fauna and flora were stripped away, leaving remnants of creatures behind. As he went to dismiss his discovery, he caught wind of a procession migrating their way towards a mountain range. More of those people behaving strangely from months ago had emerged, all walking with purpose, all towards a single location within this mountain range.

Shadow veiled half of his face and sprung forth, sprinting across the land to leap along the mountainside, lightly tapping footholds to propel himself onward until he reached the top. If he still had emotions, he would've gasped at the sight before him.

These people, once simple townsfolk, once married with family, once soldiers of the Empire, and once casual citizens living their daily lives, all converged into this valley to build a structure. It wasn't tall enough that Shadow could see it from outside the mountain range, but he could tell that this structure would reach unthinkable heights.

But that wasn't what would've made him gasp. Among those building the tower, was a familiar face, the face of an elderly gentleman with a snow-white mohawk, and a vacant, dead gaze in his eyes, dressed in those same red robes and golden-colored trousers. He, like the others, was assembling the tower, never stopping to take a break or to eat. It was as if an unseen force drove them forward. Shadow shook his head at the sight of the old man.

"Strago…," he whispered. "What would your granddaughter say if she saw you like that?"

He ducked out of sight when several pairs of eyes shifted direction to his location. He slowly descended back to the ground below, having seen enough of this bizarre construction.

The way north seemed to go on forever. Shadow counted the nights he camped and stopped at twenty. Nearly a month since leaving Tzen hadn't yielded anywhere close to Nikeah along this trench, yet there were signs of a desert ahead that signaled something different about the Serpent Trench he hadn't figured initially. If Siegfried had traveled with him, he might have had a clue that connected this desert to the once-ocean floor. Nikeah would have to be somewhere beyond these dunes.

The chill of the wind hadn't subsided once, yet Shadow eventually accustomed himself to it. He knew there weren't enough layers of clothing to provide adequate warmth, but each night he kept his mind off the temperature with the thought that Interceptor was waiting for him. If we ever get separated, boy, find your way to South Figaro and wait for me. I'll meet you there, he'd remember telling his partner once. He lay at the base of one of the dunes and drifted to sleep, repeating to himself that he'd meet Interceptor at South Figaro…

"Hey Clyde," Baram said, interrupting Clyde as he sorted through their latest haul. "Do you like dogs?"

Clyde shrugged his shoulders. "Never had one, but they like coming towards me for some reason."

Baram slapped Clyde's back pocket. "They're after your jerky," he laughed.

Clyde shared a chuckle. "Why wouldn't they? This stuff's amazing. I'd move to Mobliz and eat this for the rest of my life."

Baram plucked a crown from the loot and affixed it to his head. "Kings, that is what we are. Shadow Bandits, Kings of thievery and beef jerky."

Clyde paused, gave Baram a look, and laughed. "We should rename ourselves the Jerky Bandits."

Baram tossed the crown into their sac along with the rest of the gil and stolen jewels. "One million should get us a killer mansion out in Figaro, wouldn't you say?"

"Nah, my friend. Jidoor is where it's at. We could make a fortune auctioning off those trinkets and that'll give us all the gil we'll ever need to get the good stuff," Clyde said. He bit into a coin, grinning as he kept it clutched between his teeth.

"That rumored ultimate treasure?" Baram asked. "What was it called? The Phoenix?"

"Seriously?" Clyde said, arching an eyebrow. "You believe in those myths? I'm talking about the legendary assassin's dagger. Having that in our possession would make robbing anyone a piece of cake because they know they'd not mess with someone wilding the Striker Knife."

Baram paused, shrugging his shoulders. "Every thief wants the Striker, Clyde. That's a boring goal, my friend. C'mon, expand your imagination a little! Think about it! What if these myths are more than just bedtime stories? Last time we hung around Vector, we heard some weird conversations about what their leader has been aspiring to, going as far as forming his own Empire to revive magic."

Clyde flicked the coin at Baram's face, the latter catching it. "As if the world needs an Empire to rule it. If that's going to be the case, we'll rob them blind."

"Right." Baram tied the bag closed. Clyde finished tying his bag and hoisted it over his right shoulder. "We've got a long trip south if we're going to Mobliz," he said.

"Mobliz? Weren't we going to Nikeah?" Baram asked.

"And go back in the vicinity of the Domans we just robbed? That's suicide," Clyde retorted, glancing back at him.

Only something was different about the way Baram looked to him. Baram was still holding his bag full of their loot inside, but he also had a knife impaled in his gut.

Clyde froze, glancing back and forth from the knife to the sunken, pale face of his friend. "Baram?"

"Clyde."

Clyde didn't pay attention to the bag that dropped from his hand. He reached for the knife to pull it out, but froze once again before it grabbed the hilt.

"What are you waiting for, Clyde?" Baram said, only his voice was graver and unnatural. It was as if he swallowed sandpaper. "You gonna finish the job or what?"

"Finish what?" Clyde asked and backed away quickly at the sight of Baram's face. It was no longer a face, but a hollowed-out skull with sunken eyes bleeding from inside its sockets. "Finish the job and kill me already. Finish me and run away!"

Baram grabbed the collar of Clyde's shirt, his face inches from Clyde's. "Finish me, you gutless sycophant."

Shadow sat upright, gauging his surroundings. In his right hand was a dagger that was connected to another individual, an unfamiliar man who had passed by. Killing his emotions still would not kill the memories, no matter how much he'd repress them. Whoever this person was, he was unfortunate to make an attempt on Shadow. He paused once he had a gander at the man's face, thinking for a moment whether he saw something of Baram in that pale complexion framed by an unkempt beard. This was a man several years older and the dress reminded him of someone from Nikeah, which meant that beyond this desert was the port city itself. He was closer, that was certain.

After he cleaned his dagger, he sheathed it. It was a parting gift given to him by Siegfried, along with a few of the master's own personal collection. Shadow shook his head at the memory of the venerable assassin and swordmaster, wanting to feel something akin to disgust regarding how soft the man had become. But he chose this path, and Shadow continued along his to reunite with his partner.

That mutt won't be a replacement for me, Baram's voice growled in Shadow's mind. Every time Shadow pictured Interceptor at his side, Baram's sneer seemed to imprint itself, mocking him. It's not time yet, Baram. Wait a little longer.

Shadow's dreams continued to immerse themselves into memories of his time with Baram, eventually melding with memories of the woman he met in Thamasa. He even had dreams he was still on the Floating Continent as he fell with it, being forced underwater when a sizeable piece had broken off and flipped over with him on it, trapping him under. Each night had dreams harsher than the last that he woke with a start, a cold sweat on his face, but not a single emotion he could name to pin them on.

When at last he reached Nikeah, the sense of unease was apparent on the faces of its citizens. There were no signs of destruction, only wear from the quakes and natural disasters that stemmed from the calamity months ago. The unease must be the reason why there hasn't been a Light of Judgment attack since Kefka built his tower.

There was a Chocobo stable to his right with the chirping sounds of Chocobo chicks recently hatched from inside, drawing a few onlookers. The market was still busy with its usual activity as if nothing had changed whatsoever in the city. But he could see it on their faces, clear as day. They went about their business, but no one dared say much beyond what was usually uttered, between the "good days" and "thank yous" to the "how are yous" and "safe travels."

Among the city folk was a quartet of bandits lounging near the pub. Shadow turned his face away, yet kept an eye on them. I know those four.

He recognized the blood-red bandanas on their heads and crimson vests worn over black shirts and trousers. The Crimson Robbers.

Shadow thought they might have died in the wake of the calamity but he knew a thief was more resilient than they were given credit for.

As he turned around, he bumped into another stranger. "Watch it," the stranger said. Shadow grabbed the man's upper arm before he walked away. "I'd watch my tone if I were you," he said, then glared at his face, whispering "Your Highness."

The stranger's eyes lit up, but only for a moment. Shadow watched the area, then pressed a finger to his lips before he brushed past him to make his way to the port.

Shadow could see the facial features of Edgar, unmistakably. There was no way he could not mistake Edgar for some stranger dressed in garbage clothes. But after he spotted him approaching the Crimson Robbers, it was apparent the King had some need for those bandits. He continued watching the group. I'd work on that accent of yours if you're going to convince anyone. Maybe you've got them fooled, who knows?

Edgar wasn't a face easily ignored, nor forgotten, Shadow knew. He was nearly hired by the Guild to assassinate him until the job was taken by some lesser competent member. Either he was bad at his work, or the King was so resourceful in his knowledge and technology that regicide proved difficult.

Once Edgar and the Robbers were inside the pub, he made his way to the docks, tossing a small satchel of gil to the ship captain. "Passage to South Figaro, one way," he told him.

"We won't be sailing until tomorrow, I'm afraid," the captain said, handing the satchel back to Shadow. "We're spending the rest of the day loading cargo and we're expecting Gerad in the morning with his crew. Said they've got work to do in the caves or something. He didn't say much else."

"Gerad, huh," Shadow said, glancing back at the pub. "Suit yourself."

Shadow spent the night by the docks, watching the crew complete the rest of their load before retiring into the city. The chill had subsided, leaving an eerie silence in the air with only the water crashing against the port to break it. Shadow eyed his dagger, turning it several times over along his palm before sheathing it. The obscurity of the clouds above had not provided one night of clear skies to see the moon above. Even then, Shadow hadn't missed watching those same stars each night back when he set up camp with Baram. Don't you hate it when you can't see shit up there? Must make you feel better that you see less of the things that were important, huh?

Adjusting himself against a set of barrels, Shadow dismissed Baram to the back of his mind until he drifted into sleep.

The trip along the sea from Nikeah to Figaro proved much shorter than Shadow thought, yet it was still a trip long enough for Gerad to approach him at the port side of the boat away from the Crimson Robbers.

"It's you, isn't it?" Gerad asked.

Shadow said nothing, only giving him a quiet glance. He didn't care whether the King who went undercover as "Gerad" knew he was the assassin without his gear. But he did know that he would don it once more after reuniting with Interceptor. He just hoped he didn't make a mistake in his assumption.

"Not much of a disguise, if you ask me," Shadow said, eyeing Gerad's "garb." Gerad shook some dust from his hair. "It's enough to fool them, at least. That's all I care about. If they can track their way back to the castle, I'll know for sure where it had sunk."

Shadow gave him a quick nod. A Castle with the mechanism to submerge in desert sands. Only a genius engineer like Edgar could invent such a feature. But he didn't nod to acknowledge Edgar's brilliance. It was more a recognition of what goal the King had set for himself.

"What of the others?" Shadow asked. "Any survivors?"

"Only my brother and Locke, as far as I know. We all crashed into the desert together, not too far apart from each other after we were thrown off the Blackjack."

Edgar's tone had the familiarity of someone who sounded hopeful but teetered on a broken will. He certainly had the look of a King without a kingdom and subjects to rule.

"Boss! We can see Figaro!" shouted one of the Crimson Robbers. Brothers of differing ages, they approached the pair and nodded at Shadow. "Who's that?"

"None of your concern. Get below deck and wait until we reach port," 'Gerad' ordered them. "Sure thing, Boss!" the lead Robber replied. Once they were below deck, Edgar shook his head. "Stupid enough to all get caught together, that lot. But stupid enough that I can put them to use to get my castle back."

"Before you head down," Shadow said as Edgar spun around. "Is Interceptor in South Figaro? Did you see him?"

Edgar paused before sporting his signature grin. "Yeah."

After the ship had anchored and the plank was set down, Shadow trailed behind Edgar and the Robbers as they disembarked first. He left them to their own devices, knowing it was none of his business what they did after they parted ways. Knowing there were other survivors intrigued him enough that he may run into one of them at some point, but finding Interceptor mattered the most.

When he reached the southernmost part of the city, he scanned the area for signs of his partner. He placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. "Interceptor!" he shouted.

~.~

"Interceptor!"

The dog's ears perked up. He knew that voice. He sniffed the air and the scent was there. His partner's scent. The man who had taken him under his care when he was a pup was back in Figaro.

He barked several times, sprinting down the stairs, jumping across channels of water that flowed below to close the gap between him and Shadow. The man who had been taken away by the Empire, the man whom he couldn't fight with due to his wounds keeping him grounded, was within reach now.

He slowed his pace enough that he wouldn't dart past him. As he neared Shadow, he was overcome with emotion. He barked, cried, and whimpered, his short tail wagging erratically as he showered his partner with kisses. Shadow knelt to his knees and ruffled Interceptor's head. "Hey, boy. Not like you to get all weepy on me."

Interceptor couldn't care less about the lessons he learned in his travels. He missed the man dearly and being in his presence once more was the biggest weight lifted off his back since he was relieved to have seen Relm survive the calamity.

He continued to bounce around until his partner sat on the paved street, unable to resist the urge to smile. "I missed you, too."

Shadow was back on his feet. "Come, let's settle into the pub. You hungry?" he asked. Interceptor wagged his tail. He was, indeed, but his ears twitched to something else in the area. Regaining his instincts now that he was with Shadow again, he had a better sense of the other fellow that had been stalking around Figaro. Interceptor stopped midway.

"Interceptor," Shadow said, glancing back. "Come."

The dog's nose twitched. The scent grew stronger as it drew him to an alley behind Shadow. His partner's back was turned, which was a prime target for an assassin. As Interceptor's nose tagged the scent, the stranger had made his move, albeit clumsily.

Tripping on a crack in the pavement and stumbling past garbage cans, the stranger nearly toppled over himself. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" he hollered.

Shadow casually spun to face the stranger and paused. The stranger corrected his posture and drew his rapier. "I finally found you!" he shouted at Shadow.

Interceptor barked a few times. "No, it's not him, boy. Seigfried stayed back at Tzen."

"Ha! Insolent peasant! You know that one's a fraud! A copier! A charlatan! A, uh, um, a big pretender! I have the upper hand with this cunning weapon in my hand. If I were you, rogue, I'd take the mutt and skedaddle out of here lest I run you through!"

The man stepped forward, brandishing and swiping the air in front with his rapier. Shadow hadn't moved a muscle, but Interceptor could easily tell by his scent that his partner was ready to skewer this hopeless fool and leave him for dead in the alley. As far as this bleak world was concerned, one less body roaming around wouldn't change much.

"You must either be quite brave, or utterly moronic if you managed to steal a set of my master's clothes to dress like that," Shadow said.

"Silence!" the stranger yelled. "Spare me no more of your lies and baseless accusations, peasant!" He pointed the tip of his rapier at Shadow's throat. "I'm well trained in this, I'll have you know."

Interceptor grunted. Even he couldn't bring himself to feel threatening towards this idiot. He sat and panted, waiting for Shadow to make a move. If there was a need, he'd happily join in and hold the man's throat in between his teeth.

"Are you going to attack me or continue flailing your gums?" Shadow asked. The stranger lunged forward with a growl as though anything said by Shadow would provoke this man. Yet each swipe and stab from the rapier met nothing but air. Shadow dodged swiftly and easily until the stranger paused, panting. He held up one finger at Shadow. "I'm not, not, done yet."

Interceptor moved towards the man and bit his sleeve to hold his arm in place. "Hey! What are you doing? Let go, mutt!" the man shouted.

Shadow casually took the rapier from the man's hand. "I'd say you're done."

Shadow examined the rapier for a moment, running his finger across the blade. "Do you seriously intend to kill anyone with a blade as dull as this?" he asked the stranger.

"As if the great and talented Ziegfried would ever believe your lies, peasant!" the stranger told him. Shadow paused. "I'm sorry, what did you call yourself?"

"Ziegfried."

"Don't you mean Siegfried?" asked Shadow. Zeigfried gasped and wagged his finger inches from Shadow's face. "Ziegfried is a name known the world over! That imposter calls himself Siegfried because he envies my skills!"

"Sure," Shadow said. "Interceptor, come. We've a long journey ahead."

Interceptor wasn't certain where Shadow wanted to go, but journeying with his friend again mattered more. Except Zeigfried had other ideas and stopped Shadow, arms spread out. It was unknown what the man's face looked like under that veil, but there were certainly other weapons decorating his belt and shoulder, which Interceptor assumed might be equally dull if Shadow assessed them.

In one swift move, Shadow slapped both of Ziegfried's hands down with the flat end of the rapier. "Ow! Ow! Stop that!" cried Ziegfried, shaking his hands. Shadow continued slapping the back of them. "Quit it!"

"Get out of the way and I'll stop," Shadow ordered. Ziegfried paused, shaking off the pain in his hand to cup his chin. "You drive a hard bargain, peasant. I'll give you that."

Shadow tossed the dulled rapier. It landed with several clangs against the pavement, much to Ziegfried's frustration. "Move."

"Wait!" Ziegfried shouted, holding his hands up again to halt Shadow. "I have information!"

"You have information," Shadow repeated, skeptical. "I'm surprised Siegfried didn't put a contract on you. I wouldn't mind some extra gil, now."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, wait!" Zeigfried muttered as Shadow drew his dagger flat against his forearm, ready for a quick slash of the throat. Interceptor had seen it executed flawlessly countless times that the victim had no opening to react. Only Siegfried had been able to block the attack with his blade.

"I know where to find some good treasure," Ziegfried said. "And I mean, really really good treasure. Like a famous assassin's dagger, perhaps?"

Shadow gave Interceptor a quick look. "Go on."

"Oh, good. You're a reasonable fellow, I'll give you that. You'll hear me out?"

"Cut the babbling and explain concisely," Shadow ordered. He was running out of patience the colder his tone grew. Despite killing his emotions, there were only so few times a person could make them resurface unintentionally. Whoever this Zeigfried was was working his way to be added to that list.

"Lots of things changed when the world went nuts," Zeigfried started. "Doma castle shifted northward, I found because I was traveling eastward from here to practice my skills in the Veldt."

Shadow rolled his hand. "Right, right. So you must be aware of ancient battle sites of famous combat guilds, right? Monks, samurai, ninjas, gladiators. I've been a huge fan of those stories from centuries ago after the War of the Magi that I had to investigate those sites for myself!"

Shadow paused, waiting for more info. "And then?"

"Then I saw that due to several earthquakes, those sites that were long ago buried re-surfaced. There's a cave entrance on the Veldt now that leads to a different place altogether. We only ever heard about it leading into Crescent Mountain, but that isn't there anymore."

"Anything else?" Shadow asked.

"Nope! I peeked inside, but I could only go so far before the monsters in there were too much for me," Ziegfried said, looking away as if embarrassed. Interceptor could smell the fear in the man. He barked at Ziegfried, unsure.

"You've got a point," Shadow said, ruffling Interceptor's head. He casually scratched him behind the ears, which Interceptor missed terribly. "How can we trust your information?"

"I don't know! I'm face-to-face with someone who probably could kill me! What else do I have to lose at this point?!" Zeigfried, resigned, dropped the act. "Okay, I admit it, I'm a fraud. But I'm an avid admirer of people like you and Siegfried who make this look way too easy."

"I suppose it's worth a look. What say you, boy?" Shadow asked Interceptor. The dog sniffed a few times to gauge Ziegfried's scent and circled the man before sitting beside Shadow.

"If Interceptor didn't growl at you, it means you're honest," Shadow told him. Interceptor scratched the back of his ear with his hind leg before shaking his head. Ziegfried sighed heavily. "Thank goodness! Thank you for sparing me!"

Shadow shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Get lost," he told him.

Ziegfried backed a couple of steps towards his discarded rapier, sheathing it. "I want to do some good in this world, at least. I think our conversation helped clear my head."

"Whatever you say," Shadow said and waved Interceptor forward.

"What's your name?" Ziegfried called as Shadow cleared some distance between the two.

"None of your concern," Shadow called back.

"Thank you kindly, Mister None-of-your-concern! I won't forget this, I promise!" Zeigfried shouted, waving at the pair. Shadow's hand hovered over one of the projectiles given to him by Siegfried, at least a dozen shurikens at the ready. Could this man be any more of a nuisance? Interceptor seemed to agree on that, at least.

~.~

Their first decent meal at the pub was shared alone at a separate table. Gerad and the Crimson Robbers had sectioned off a large table for themselves where they drank, ate, and flirted with the barmaids – much of it from Gerad.

Shadow could see Interceptor eyeing his face. "I know, boy. I haven't dressed back in my gear, yet. Been too used to this get-up."

He could've changed at any time after leaving Tzen and no one would've known. He had left his face unveiled to a broken world, knowing no one cared enough to recognize he was once a nothing bandit who made stupid mistakes. They would have never known him to be Shadow except for Siegfried.

Later that night, Shadow woke to the sensation of his arm in Interceptor's mouth. The dog quickly released his grip as Shadow rose. "It's alright, boy. Been used to these."

Interceptor lay a paw on his knee as if to tell him he wasn't so sure the assassin was ever going to be used to his nightmares. He no longer counted the times he woke in cold sweats, nor the times he screamed in his sleep. If he had ever lost Interceptor, he may have done something inexcusable at one point. That one stray individual who stumbled upon him south of Nikeah was but one of many he could've taken out without even knowing. He'd have woken to a corpse the following morning.

There was no sunlight to speak of that peaked through the windows of South Figaro. Blood-red skies painted with sickly orange and yellow hues were what broke another day in the world. He assessed the gear he brought with him, including all his weapons provided to him by Siegfried. Daggers, short katanas, throwing weapons, smoke bombs, and his black ninja garb – all were accounted for and intact.

Shadow knew his strength had returned after he left Tzen, only enduring the harsh weather that would be too much for many travelers unprepared to survive a long journey northward. Even the re-surfaced Serpent Trench was as volatile above ground as it was underwater. He would need that strength to travel east to search the cave the imposter had mentioned. If it contained the ancient battlegrounds of the assassin's guild, the part that was still Clyde somehow enticed Shadow to investigate and loot the place for himself. A blade forged ages ago that ninjas sought after and killed each other to acquire, only a select few had been able to wield it until they let themselves be buried with it, anticipating the next skilled assassin to find it. The Striker had no equal in quality of sharpness and durability. It was also said that it was an enchanted dagger of the War of the Magi, enchanted to never lose its sharpness. A dagger so potent that it could pierce the skin of a dragon like a knife through butter.

He asked Siegfried if he ever considered finding it for himself. Siegfried shook his head, scoffing back. "A ninja'd be a damn fool trying to prove himself a 'legend' if he wants to wield a sharp little toy like the Striker Knife. I don't need legendary weapons to prove myself," he said.

I'm not out to prove anything, either, Siegfried, thought Shadow. The legendary knife was more of an accessory he could add to his arsenal, improving his chances. It would also be the very thing he'd plunge into Kefka's heart when the opportunity presented itself, magic and godhood be damned.

Back in full gear, Shadow and Interceptor left via the window, landing gracefully behind the inn. From there, they trailed Gerad and the Crimson Robbers back to the ferry that served as a go-between from Figaro to Nikeah, bridging the gap between landmasses. It'd at least cut into Shadow's travel time to reach the Veldt.

Sneaking on board the ferry, he and Interceptor remained inconspicuous, not once being noticed. They bode their time until nightfall at Nikeah's port to remain unseen as they left the city. To the east was the coastline with a few fishing boats left along the shore. Shadow waited until one of the fishermen had carried his haul to Nikeah before commandeering the boat.

They weren't certain how long the trek lasted as he rowed, keeping to one direction to the best of his navigational skill, minimal as it was.

Interceptor's nose proved a valuable asset, as it allowed the dog to point in the direction of a scent he picked up. His barking confirmed that there were monsters along a landmass ahead. Though faint, Shadow was certain Interceptor directed the pair the right way.

After five days of eating nothing but fish Interceptor brought onto the boat along with some remnants that the fisherman had left behind as carry-on snacks, Shadow could see land ahead. Whether this was the Veldt or not would have to wait until he was able to disembark.

Interceptor took the lead, sniffing the ground and air. His ears perked up as he stared northwest. "Monsters?" Shadow asked. Interceptor trotted along in the other direction as if to indicate a strong concentration of predators. His navigation allowed the pair to trek across the land with little difficulty, though the dog did stop at some point, growling around him. "Guess we'll have to fight our way through, then," Shadow said, brandishing his short katana. He held a pair of shurikens between his fingers, waiting for an opening.

Many of the monsters Shadow had seen before survived the calamity and migrated to the Veldt as if the continent acted as a conduit to attract all manner of monstrosities across the globe. Some creatures that had been unleashed by magic along the Floating Continent survived the wreckage. From the skies, Shadow could see a freakish-looking abomination with bat-like wings and the skinless face of nightmares, the very representation of death. Shadow glared at it before it flew off, tightening the grip on his hilt. Not yet.

Though they had disembarked at the westernmost part of the Veldt, the continent had shifted north from where it was, separated from Mobliz. Where Mobliz was, Shadow had no clue. In the days and nights spent traveling and surviving the Veldt, neither he nor Interceptor saw any signs of a village. Among the scorched landscape were still remnants of the open savannah that comprised the Veldt. Tall grass to conceal animals, with open areas involving predators chasing smaller creatures.

There were a few times during the days spent on the Veldt that Shadow noticed an adolescent child running among the monsters, fighting them off to steal scraps of food. He remembered seeing that kid's face on the Blackjack before the magical storms tore the ship apart, scattering all on board to the winds. Another survivor, huh?

Interceptor's barking lured him away from the boy to the sight of a mountainous structure ahead. Was this the cave Ziegfried told them about?

Several groups of large animals had been patrolling the mountain, each looking as intimidating as those Shadow had dispatched throughout his trek. Their gnashing teeth and bulging musculature ate the sharp blade of Shadow's katana while others suffered their own fate at the dog's gnashing teeth, tearing through their throats. "Interceptor, enough. We'll camp here tonight."

Only one of these massive behemoths provided enough meat for the two to fill their bellies to full. The carcasses served as comfortable bedrests for the pair as they slept, with only the dull embers of the open flame providing heat against the chill.

Once again, Interceptor was the first to wake, nudging Shadow with his muzzle. He packed leftover meat from their dinner for later and the pair circled the mountain until they saw the opening of the cave. "For such a moron, he somehow survived this place," Shadow said of Ziegfried. Interceptor grunted a response. "Sometimes idiots survive as effectively as assassins," Shadow noted.

The cave was dimly lit by several flames from a campsite inside. Interceptor's nose pointed in the direction of the source, which led to a party of rogues settled in an open area. The pair remained hidden, using their colors to blend into the walls and shadows of the cave's interior. "So how are we gonna get that kid to join us?" asked one of them.

Their conversation trailed off with two others bickering about why that kid hissed at them, screaming that they were strangers. One of them even mentioned that the kid had said they weren't someone called "Mr. Thou," which Shadow had paused to think it over. Sounds like Cyan and Sabin had met this kid before.

It delved into a memory Shadow had of staying behind to watch those two leap off the top of Barren Falls after he parted ways. Once he saw them at the mouth of the Veldt, he made his way onward. Bearing witness to the atrocities of Doma and the departure of Cyan's loved ones on board the Phantom Train often gave him pause to reflect on the family he left behind in Thamasa. "Clyde" was dead to them, that he assured himself. There would be no one to go back to that village for his daughter to see. All Relm would see was an assassin-for-hire whose dog took a liking to her. But that was only because Interceptor was born in the village and remembered Relm when she was months old.

Something else had also caught Shadow's attention in the group's conversation. "Hard to believe it'll be a year, soon," said one of them. The man sounded defeated, almost. "Couple days, roughly?"

"Yeah, I know," said another. Shadow heard the sounds of a fire being stoked to keep it alive. "Did you know it would be my son's birthday coming up?"

"Same, only my wife's had already passed two days ago. We were planning a trip north to Jidoor to get something at the auction. She had her eye on this art piece of Maria and Draco."

Shadow heard one of the others sniffling, fighting his urge to cry. "Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"We shouldn't linger. Let's go," Shadow told Interceptor. The pair let the rest of the conversation fade once they found their way deeper, passing through chambers and openings. Some required a tight squeeze, yet Shadow was able to pass through. Interceptor had little difficulty navigating his way until he stopped. His jaws peeled back to a snarl with an audible growl louder than Shadow had ever heard. "Interceptor, what is it?"

The dog's growls lured Shadow to a darkened section too obscure for human eyes to perceive. Only Interceptor could tell what lay beyond the darkness, which revealed a pair of faint glowing red eyes. Gnarled arms and hands comprised of bone and sinew grated the walls as it approached on legs that were unrecognizable from any land mammal it once was. It had the bone structure of a Chocobo, yet whatever this thing once was likely was something that hunted Chocobos for sport, if not for food.

Shadow had his hand on the hilt of his blade, ready to draw. Yet the creature that emerged from the darkness moved at such speeds not even Shadow was fast enough to intercept. If it weren't for his partner, he would've been at the end of those razor-like claws with deep slashes on his torso.

Interceptor reacted as the creature sprinted forward, biting into the creature's shin. It stopped, spun to acknowledge the dog, and shook it off. Interceptor leaped and bounded out of the way of several swipes of the creature's tail, which had now become visible once it was in full view. What little light the caves provided came from the moisture reflected off the light from outside and the flames of the rogue's campfire. Shadow's eyes had also adjusted enough in the dimly lit cave to perceive the skeletal structure of the creature who fought off Interceptor's attacks, leaving an opening for several slashes of Shadow's blade.

Maybe this was what frightened that idiot from searching this cave. If this thing is what's guarding the catacombs of the ancient battlegrounds, there's no way to confirm for certain unless I get rid of this quickly.

Shadow's thoughts danced as he did while circling the creature. He slashed, cutting through some of the creature's bones comprising its ribcage, while impaling the skull with precise shuriken throws. Both he and Interceptor used combined efforts to wear the creature down until it eventually gave up, vanishing in a cloud of mist that drifted through cracks too thin for even Interceptor to squeeze through. The shurikens that pierced its skull phased through and landed on the ground with a tink sound.

"Be on your guard, boy," Shadow said, hand still gripping his blade. "Who knows what else could be lur-"

He was cut off by a blow to the back of his head. He could hear Interceptor barking and growling, but little else as his vision blurred.

His last thoughts swirled in his head before his face hit the ground. If this is it, Baram, I'll see you soon.

~.~

There was no warning.

Interceptor caught sight of the massive creature that lunged from behind Shadow as they were busy dispatching this skeletal menace that dissipated into mist.

He barked frantically to alert his partner, but that came at the same time he was struck with a single swipe of the creature's massive arm, thick enough to be the same width as Shadow himself.

The beast shifted its focus off Shadow to him, piercing cat-like eyes trained to take him out as well. Interceptor needed to act quickly if he was going to save his partner from becoming this creature's dinner.

It lunged but his movement was not as swift as the skeletal menace. Interceptor could use his deftness to avoid those heavy swings and wear the beast out. He knew one blow would leave him in the same fate as Shadow, which was something he would not allow for one second. Nothing would separate the two ever again.

An opening presented itself as the beast struck the ground where he once was, giving him some surface to climb to reach its face. At least clawing its eyes out and tearing the beast's face into an unrecognizable mess would give him and Shadow a chance to escape, even if he had to drag his partner's unconscious body across the floor to do so.

His teeth did reach one of the beast's eyes to bite deep. It thrashed about, flailing its massive arms to swipe Interceptor off, only to howl in agony once it had lost its eye. Interceptor fell awkwardly onto the ground, spitting the eyeball out. He may not have torn much of the creature's face, but it was enough to cause it to back off into its blackened hiding spot to tend to its gaping wound while he dragged Shadow to a safer location.

Amidst the shrieks of the beast, his ears picked up a new set of voices from near the cave's entrance.

Familiar voices.

Even better, familiar scents.

If they were the humans he remembered from a year ago, they might be able to help take Shadow out of this place and to a safe location. Even better, they could kill this beast and find the treasure for him.

It was worth a try.