Villain in Your Story

by Lord Tabata-sama-sensei-kun

The borders were restored. The stars returned to the sky. The hearts freed from their dark prison. But somewhere along the way, the shadows claimed one final victim. Aerith rushes to rescue her friends, but what awaits her at journey's end might be more than she bargained for. Formerly known as "Save me".

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"That we could put the past away." - Part 1

In the wee hours of the morning, Squall rustled around his arms locker pulling out a weapon that he seldom carried outside of training, spec ops, or parades. When he first saw a Gunblade decades ago during a tournament, it spoke to him on a profound level. Gallant, sleek, complex, and strategically explosive—a perfect mirror for his soul. Upon passing his service exams, Squall received a gift from Auron, his guardian: a newly forged Gunblade of his own with a customized engraving of a roaring lion standing proud along the length of the blade.

"Use it to kill grief," Auron instructed him, bequeathing the weapon to his ward. Not long after, he disappeared from Squall's life forever.

Every time Squall removed the Gunblade from its locker, he remembered Auron. Although taciturn and sometimes distant, he was never cold. When he found amusement in something Squall did as a boy, he would gruffly chuckle while patting him on the head. One time when six-year-old Squall ran away into the woods thinking he could find his mother, Auron tracked him down to a burrow where the boy crouched weeping. The guardian enveloped him in a compassionate hug, holding him until he fell asleep. Plagued by a deep sense of abandonment, Squall cried a lot as a child, but one day while camping out in the mountains Auron taught him a valuable lesson.

"The earth never leaves you," he had said. "And we never leave it. Those who are sent to a far away plane will be whispering to you in the wind as it rushes past your ears; supporting your every step as you tread through the sodden hills; embracing you with every raindrop in even the deadliest hurricane. Life can be harsh—sometimes cruel—but never forget that you are the author of your story. Draw strength from the natural forces that gifted you this tale and you will never falter."

Squall popped open the revolver chamber and cleaned it with a bore brush, his mind never drifting too far from his guardian. What would you have thought of Aerith? What advice would you give? Am I doing the right thing staying in the Guard? Should I just escape from everything and marry her now? But how can I survive without the Service funding? Get a castle job and only see my wife on holidays? Why does it always feel like the walls are moving to box me in? Can I make this work without running away into the mountains? Where exactly is this story is taking me?

Amidst the turmoil, a surprising bud of happiness started flowering. The revelation that he was going to marry Aerith sent his fluttering heart up into the clouds. As he snapped the cleaned revolver chamber shut, he paused for a moment to look at his left hand, contemplating how perfect a ring would look there. He could almost feel its weight embracing the contour of his finger. It took a while longer before he could bring himself to put on his winter gloves.

After double checking his supplies and bundling up warmly in his favorite lion-mane jacket, he sheathed the Gunblade at his side and marched into the darkness. Outside, the cold, dead night smacked him with a powerful gale. Snow swirled around the air, covering the intrepid soldier in a light dusting that he periodically brushed off. Pushing past the elements that day lacked its usual adrenaline rush. Something foreboding hung in the atmosphere, making Squall shudder as he approached the church. His stomach churned with nerves.

The moment his foot crossed the gate's threshold, Squall froze. A shadow quickly crossed in front of him, hobbling from one hedge to another. Were his weary eyes just seeing things? He had barely slept, pining for Aerith while tossing and turning all night. When he did manage to drift away, he found himself again trapped in the nightmare of a barren field, alone in the shadows with nothing but destruction looming near. Why did it keep haunting him? Maybe his tired mind was playing tricks, unable to decouple itself from the horror of the loneliness that the dream foretold. But something still didn't feel right.

Slowly, he stalked closer to the pine hedges flanking the building and he parted the branches. A still darkness greeted him, but his body refused to budge. He could feel something there, a malevolent presence. With wide, unflinching eyes, he stared into the black nothingness. After waiting long enough, something stared back. Glowing, yellow eyes that betrayed a deep-seated hunger.

A hand suddenly tapped Squall on the shoulder and he flinched, hands instinctively going to his hilt. Heart racing, he spun on heel, ready to unsheathe his weapon when he saw Aerith, her smile eclipsed by concern.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, tightening the grip on the satchel she carried.

Squall said nothing, opting instead to swiftly return his focus to the hedge. Without hesitating, he pulled out the Gunblade and slashed the unsuspecting pine in half. The cleanly cut branches tumbled into the snow, revealing nothing.

"I think you need to work on your pruning skills," Aerith tried to joke, hoping to dampen the mounting tension. When Squall didn't reply, she carefully placed another hand on his shoulder, this time massaging it until the stiff muscle loosened. She had never seen him carry a weapon before. That large blade seemed so mismatched in his loving, gentle hands—ones that had explored and caressed the entirety of her body with seductive tenderness. It was easy to forget his day job when she only saw him at night.

"Sorry," Squall muttered, sheathing his sword as he turned to face her.

"What happened?"

"I saw something."

Curious, Aerith looked around. "What was it?"

Not knowing how to answer, Squall folded his arms and reflected on the facts. Was it an animal? But what animals had bright, yellow eyes? An owl? A cat? But wouldn't they make a noise? Why would his hairs stand on end around a cat? Was it feral? Why didn't it leave footprints in the snow?

Aerith traced her hand up to his neck, turning his head to free him from the endless spiral. "It's okay," she said, drawing her face nearer. "You don't need to worry."

She was right. What could possibly be skulking around that a soldier and a mage couldn't handle together? Allowing himself to relax, Squall placed his gloved hand over hers. "Maybe it's because I haven't gotten over it—the thought of being away from you."

They gazed deeply into each other's eyes until their lips found one another. Lost in a long, consuming kiss, Squall wrapped his arms around Aerith, holding her tightly. The snowy winds continued to rage around them, but inside their bubble they radiated with the warmth of a cozy Spring day. Budding and blossoming with the promise of new beginnings. Squall readily cast aside the dead winter of duty, losing himself in Aerith's wholesome curves as his hands slid down her back. She moaned into his touch, which he took as an invitation to travel further down, deeper, but she abruptly broke away.

"You don't want to be late," Aerith murmured while recomposing herself, trying to still her erratic heart and tamp down her carnal yearnings. Taking his wanting hand, she squeezed it before slipping the satchel's strap through his fingers.

Dejected, Squall let the provisions dangle a bit before he steeled himself enough to sling them over his back. It felt like forever since the last time he set off on a trip with one of her packs. Even after taking it, he didn't want to move. Silently, he just gazed at her with an intense longing glistening in his eyes.

Aerith knew that Squall wasn't going to leave. The way he stood so close, his head angling down towards her while his loose hands hung just inches from her waist, he was prepared to stay that way until she made the next move. If she told him to throw it all away, he would. She could sense it—his eagerness to break free from the chains of obligation and to become entirely hers. There was a moment when Aerith almost let slip her heart's desire, almost grabbed him to lead the way into the church where they could be together, but then she remembered Cloud. He was out there somewhere, and however fuzzy and misshaped they were, the pieces finally started snapping together. There had to be a connection between Cloud's disappearance and those dodgy scientists, and Squall was the only one she trusted to do what she couldn't: bring him home.

"We won't see each other for a while," she said as calmly as possible, clasping her hands in front of her to detract from the powerful urge to throw herself into his waiting arms, "but everything is going to be okay."

Why do I feel like I'll never see her again? How many times have I taken trips into the wilds just to come back to her? So why? What's this feeling?

A maelstrom of thoughts plunged Squall deeper into the maze until he rounded a corner and came face-to-face with that awful barren wasteland nightmare. It wasn't even real. Why did it continue to haunt him? Flowers turned to ash at his feet, black clouds swallowed the sun, mountains crumbled into a misty dust, and Aerith was gone, leaving him all alone.

"Aerith, I…" Squall swallowed hard. Only one shining wire of hope led him out of the darkness. The words he wanted to say most of all rushed up like a geyser, and scattered just as easily as the individual droplets. "I want…I'd like to…Even though I don't have a…" He couldn't settle on how to say it. Everything sounded right in his head and wrong when it tumbled out of his mouth. The loud, heavy beat of his heart pumping wildly in his ears didn't make it any easier. "Aerith, will you m—" A finger to his lips silenced him.

"Whatever it is," Aerith said, her smile both coy and fleeting, "you can tell me when you come home. We can make it our promise."

Promise?

"You're really nervous. I can tell. So now that you have unfinished business, you'll have to come back as soon as you can."

What kind of logic is that? Does something like that even work? Wait…does she know what I was going to say? Is she avoiding the question?

"You need to go now, Squall, and trust me when I say that we'll speak again before you know it. Thinking outside the box, remember?" With a smile and a cheerful wave, Aerith walked away into the church and didn't look back. Only when she knew that Squall couldn't see or hear her did she let the facade drop. She pressed her back up against the cold, stone wall and let the tears fall, as she slid down to the floor with them. After a long time of sitting in quiet prayer, the strength returned to her legs. Pushing herself back up, she walked into the crossing to spend time with the flowers and cleanse her mind of any lingering unease.

Even with all of the torches lit, the church felt dark that morning. Dark and empty. Kneeling down, Aerith reached for comfort in the lilies. But the moment her finger grazed one of the petals, her hand recoiled as if burned in an open flame. A vision of an insatiable inferno flooded her mind, reverberating with the screams of the fearful and the dying. Carefully, she reached out again. A single silhouette emerged from the crackling fire. A demon swordsman with bloodlust dancing on his sinister lips. Even though every second pulsed agony into her veins, Aerith held on, wanting to ride the vision deeper. She needed to understand. And then came a voice entombed in the past, one that only ever reached out to her in the most dire of moments.

"The door is open. It won't be long now before the dark ones come. You need to leave!"

"Leave how?" Aerith asked, her voice echoing inside her own mind. "Go where?"

"Far away. To the stars and beyond. You must never return to this world."

"And leave you?"

"You must."

"But I can't just yet. There are so many preparations to make, so many people to warn. How much time do I have?"

"I'm holding them back for now, but they're weakening me. Some broke through. Others will soon follow."

"There has to be something I can do to help."

"It's too late to stop it. All I can do is buy you a little time to fly away."

"But Squall and Cloud aren't here!"

The voice didn't reply. It melted back into the ether, leaving behind only the fading image of fire and ruin. Aerith clasped her hands tighter than ever, trying her best to hold back the tears. Did she make a terrible mistake? Unconsciously, she squeezed her left ring finger harder than the others, willing away the encroaching trepidation that threatened to consume her.

---

Professor Gast waited outside the West Gate huddled deep into his coat and bowler hat while standing next to an inconspicuous mound of snow. The storm raged all around him, destroying any chance of visibility. Even still, anyone approaching would have to pass close enough to him to register. Every so often, Gast took his hand out to check the time on his pocket watch. It was gold and held an old, worn photo of Ifalna cradling her baby glued into the inside flap.

Five past six. Squall was late. Gast gazed at the photo for a bit, sighing before he snapped shut the watch. Just when he reached for a thermos of hot coffee, his ears perked at the sound of crunching footsteps.

Squall stepped out of the darkness, his collar ruffling in the wind as he pushed through the storm. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, standing close to the professor. "Weather reports say it's a blizzard."

"Which is precisely why we're to depart immediately," Gast said, carefully trudging towards the mound. "The snow will provide excellent cover."

"Cover? Even if I can withstand subzero temperatures better than most, I doubt either one of us will last long enough to even see the rapids, never mind get past them."

"Don't fret. Recall that I possess an intellectual cunning unlike any other." The professor started swiping snow off of the mound, slowly uncovering a concealed snowmobile complete with a canopy.

"Where'd you get this?" Squall said, marveling at the engineering. Custom engine, impeccable detailing, lots of colorful buttons begging to be pressed—it looked really cool.

"My neighbor has all manner of curious vehicles tucked away in his gargantuan garage. I merely borrowed one."

"So it's less to do with your intellect and more to do with larceny."

"That is a matter of perspective," Gast contended. "I had the sense to connect the appropriate tools with their respective obstacles." He pressed a button on the key to lift the canopy and then nodded to Squall. "As you're most familiar with the landscape, you're to drive."

After pausing a moment to store his supplies into the compartment next to Gast's, Squall lifted his leg over the seat and slid into place. At a glance, it resembled one of the standard models guards used for mounted patrols across the castle grounds. Although it had been a few years since his last training course, Squall remembered the basics. Turning on the ignition, the lights flickered to life, punching a hole in the darkness. He revved the engine as Professor Gast slid into place behind him, putting his arms around Squall as the canopy closed.

"It also comes with heating!" the professor called over the rumbling engine, tightening his arms around the driver's waist. "Flip that yellow switch!"

Squall did so, turning on both the heating and seat warmers. The storm couldn't touch them anymore. It almost felt like cheating. More than that, in a jarring way, Squall felt cut off from the land. What was he without the wind? Just a lost soul. Not wanting to think about it, he kicked the snowmobile into gear and sped off into the haze.

The vehicle barreled down the valley, tearing through the icy plains just as the sky turned indigo with dawn's new light. It covered the same distance in minutes that had taken Squall hours to navigate and map on foot. Before long, they reached the border between known and unknown. The cusp of nature's wrath: the dreaded rapids. A large river snaked around the Western Front, riddled with constant strong waves, whirlpools, fast currents, and steep waterfalls that ran all year-round. Even in the blizzard, the water's raw kinetic force was so powerful that no ice could freeze it. The river's roar overtook the engines, piercing through airwaves like a series of swift explosions. Only a fool would dare cross.

Slamming on the breaks, Squall skidded to a stop right at the bank. "What's your cunning plan now?" he asked, craning his head back towards the professor.

"Large blue button next to the gear shift."

Squall looked down where the button read "Inflate" in small text. Pressing it set off a beeping sound followed by a sudden undulation as a bright, orange raft sprang out from under the snowmobile. A built-in pump filled it with air while gears under the engine started grinding, pulling out a propeller.

"I do believe we're river-ready," Gast ho-hummed, taking pleasure in Squall's astonishment.

"Is this really enough to handle the force?" the soldier wondered.

"What do you take me for—a bean-counting drone? I've run the calculations, of course, and we have more than enough stability to cross."

Squall said nothing, instead taking a moment to check all the other buttons. Power Steering, Automatic Wipers, Nitrous, Toaster… Wait, toaster? He couldn't help but press it. A ticking sound played from somewhere under the seat.

"What did you just do?" Gast groused. "It sounds like a bomb about to blow!" The ticking went on until it was cut off by a loud chime. Then, out from the glove box, popped two pieces of steaming toast and a small compartment opened with a stick of butter. Gast reached over and grabbed a slice. "Come to think of it, I didn't have much of a breakfast. You have my gratitude."

Realizing he hadn't eaten either, Squall took the other piece. Mmm, crunchy . It broke the tension of knots that held his stomach hostage all morning. After the quick snack, he reversed the snowmobile. About half a mile from the bank, he floored it, letting the engine rev up to max as it flew for the river. "Brace for impact!" Squall said, tightening his grip on the handles as Gast followed by clutching onto the soldier even harder. In a flash, the vehicle smashed into the water, the bright raft bobbing against the violent current as the propeller buzzed to life.

With next to no effort, Squall masterfully steered the amphibious snowmobile through impossible whirlpools, bone-crushing waves, and towering jagged rocks. Water splashed hard against the canopy with a thunderous percussion, prompting the automatic wipers to kick to life. Sliding along in a smooth ride, they reached the other side without any hassle. The opposite bank greeted them with a right, shinning sun hanging in a sky devoid of clouds. It was as though the blizzard never happened.

Squall lifted the canopy. He wanted to feel the wind on his face once more. It was calm, light, almost still. Although faint, his nose caught the occasional waft of the sweet, perfumed scent of the mountains. Looking across the plains, he could see peaks in the distance. Untraversed terrain ripe with mystery. How perfect it would be to explore with Aerith by his side. An adventure waiting just for the two of them.

"What are you doing?" Gast barked, agitated. "Keep driving!"

"You recruited me for my navigational expertise," Squall replied, climbing off the driver's seat. "So let me do my job and get a feel for the place first. Unless you have a map?"

Gast scoffed. "Just be quick about it! Without the cloak of storm, we're terribly exposed to prying eyes."

"There's no one around for miles."

"That you can perceive! Surveillance tactics have advanced far beyond the rudimentary telescopic lens. Have they taught you nothing at that academy of yours?"

"Not my area." Squall waved a dismissive hand and started walking. The snow on this side felt softer, looser. Just from the feeling of the wind, he could tell the temperature rested at least ten degrees higher compared to town, well above freezing. At a glance towards the horizon, he could see greenery—perhaps a pine forest that had shed its snowy cover. While the trees provided the best cover from enemy scouts, the closest mountain would give them the tactical best view of the area.

Squall went into the trunk compartment and sifted through his supply pack, pulling out his binoculars. Tracing the magnified sight along the forest, he noticed a potential path affording them the best of both worlds. "We'll head for the evergreens and sneak up the nearby cliff," he stated, tucking away the binoculars before hopping back into the driver's seat.

Gast thought for a moment, gazing off along the intended path. "Hrm, yes. Wise. From on high, we'll have a greater chance to spot their facility."

"What should I expect in terms of surveillance?"

"Birds."

"Birds?"

"Yes. Especially ravens, and one in particular—Diaval."

"You named the surveillance raven?"

"Not I." Gast grew silent and irate. His fingers clenched tight around Squall's waist, wadding the soldier's jacket in the process.

Squall cast another eye out towards the sky. Nothing stood out, not even a cloud. For now, everything looked like smooth sailing. With a press of the button, he retracted the raft and kicked off towards the forest. When they reached the first set of trees, Squall cut the ignition. The grounds, mossy and gritty, lacked a single speck of snow.

"Curious," Gast hummed, dismounting to get a closer look. He pressed his hand into the gravel and swirled around his fingers.

"I've seen this before," Squall said, earning the professor's full attention. "There's a valley deep in the Eastern Front that stays verdant year-round. It's situated on top of a geothermal reservoir."

From behind his square-framed tinted glasses, Professor Gast stared at the soldier in amazement. "Astonishing," he uttered.

"Yeah. You can sometimes find a geyser nearby or a hot springs."

Gast shook his head. "Not that. You."

"Me?"

"You never cease to impress."

Squall didn't know what to say. Before he could reflect on the situation and cycle through appropriate responses, Gast surprised him by patting him firmly on the shoulder.

"I'm a failure, you see," the professor admitted in despair. "A terrible, miserable failure. I've spent so long looking for other worlds, that I never once cast my sights on this one. This is my daughter's world—the only one she's ever known—yet I have no presence in it. I'm detached, always miles away, chasing a dream that will never be rooted in this soil, this rock, this grass."

"Then why don't you change your focus?" Squall asked.

Gast hunched his shoulders as if weighed down by the whole world. "Somewhere out there, the love of my life is alone without her family. It's my duty to bring her home."

"What about Elmyra? Where does she fit into all this?"

"She loves Aerith, and Aerith needed a mother. It's that simple."

"But you married her."

"For Aerith. In case I…also disappeared. It was the only way to silence the wagging tongues of the Castle Court and ensure my daughter would want for nothing in the unfortunate event of my premature departure."

Squall crossed his arms and lost himself in thought. Professor Gast…the pain you must feel, that you've carried for so long—how do you keep going? What if you never find her? What if this is all just a false lead? If Aerith ever disappeared, what would I do? Would I even be able to function?

"I have no illusions about my neglectful parenting," Gast continued, his voice anchored by grief. "I was not the father that my precious daughter deserved." His hand still firmly planted on Squall's shoulder, he gave it a shake, forcing the soldier to look at him. "My Aerith needs someone reliable in her life—someone who will never abandon her to loneliness for scores of weeks and months. She needs to be appreciated and cherished. To be loved above all others. Is this something that I can entrust you with?"

Taken aback by the question, Squall didn't have time to even try to disguise his surprise. "What are you saying?"

"I may be a failure as a father, but I'm not blind. That night, she was completely entranced by you, and when I look into your eyes, I see myself—the way that I was in my youth. You're hopelessly besotted. It's pure and true, unlike a passing fancy it will hold fast into perpetuity."

Squall jerked his head away, closing his eyes with a frown. He felt so uncomfortable and self-conscious.

Gast just laughed and slapped Squall's shoulder. "There's no reason to be shy! Being in love is a wonderful feeling. But I'm more interested in what lies beyond that—in how fleeting you perceive this attachment to my daughter."

"I'll never leave her." Squall was looking at him now, his eyes flashing with the fire of his passion. "No matter what happens, I'll always be there for her. Until my dying breath."

His mouth agape, Gast simply stared, gobsmacked by the sincerity of those words. "And if she leaves you?" he asked slowly, softly, voice trying not to tremble.

"Then I'll just follow, much like you're doing now."

Gast's eyes started to sting. Wordlessly, he slapped Squall a couple of more times, nodding his head a bit before shuffling off towards the snowmobile. Popping open the trunk, he fished out a net and tossed it at Squall. "I trust you know how to use camouflage," he said before busying himself with his other supplies.

After taking a moment to calm down, Squall took the net up to one of the trees. He plucked branches, pine cones, and bark from it and tied them into the mesh to create a cloak for obfuscating the location of their vehicle. When he finished, he draped it over the snowmobile, making it blend it with its surroundings. He then took his hunting knife and made symbolic carvings into some of the trees to make backtracking easier.

"Brilliant," Gast praised, handing Squall his packs from the trunk compartment. "Now for the arduous trek on foot. I don't suppose you have an estimate gleaned from the approximate geolocation of the cliff in relation to our current position?"

Squall slung his packs over his shoulder and tossed his head back, deeply inhaling the cool, forest air. The mountain's fragrance was stronger than at the riverbank and he caught a whiff of king's crown, flowers that grow high in the peaks. "Three hours, give or take," he finally said, setting off on the path.

"What an extraordinary deduction," Gast mused, following pace. "How did you arrive at it?"

"Experience. I can always judge where I am based off of the floral scents in the wind."

"Fascinating."

The two of them hiked deeper into the forest, accompanied by a symphony of tweets and chitters from the local wildlife. Squirrels rustled through the tree trunks, birds warbled in the branches, and rabbits jumped through the bushes. Every inch of the place pulsed with live, and Professor Gast turned his head in all directions trying to soak it all in. Sometimes he would stray from his escort just to watch a precession of deer foraging in the distance or try to lure some fox cubs for a cuddling pet.

Squall couldn't help but smile. He's so much like Aerith. I wonder if my parents were like me, or did I grow to be more like Uncle Auron? He unconsciously traced his fingers along the hilt of his Gunblade before pulling out his sketch pad from his pack. As they progressed deeper, he chronicled their progress in a rough map.

"Tell me more about cartography," Gast asked as he curiously peeked at the sketch. "How do you know what to draw and where?"

"Well, I start with an abstract concept," Squall explained, not used to anyone caring about his craft. It felt refreshing to talk to Gast, who hung on his every word like an eager schoolboy. "The key is to omit any non-essential details in the first stage. Instead, I focus on major landmarks, like this stream we're about to cross." He nodded to the small body of water lazily coursing down along their path. Using a convenient log, they took care to mark a balanced, measured stride across to the other side. "Simplicity is important. As a map, it's only useful if you're able to quickly discern your position relative to your destination. If I overload the drawing with too many details, it'll become convoluted and difficult to read."

"Quite sensible, yes." Gast watched with keen eyes as Squall continued to draw and jot down cryptic notations in the margins. "Is that code?"

"Something like that. It's shorthand for some of the details I'll want to fill in later."

"HS-D?"

"Hunting spot for deer."

"Ah, clever. Do you primarily subsist off of game?"

"I used to. These days, I usually…" Squall let his words hang, not sure if he wanted to continue. The professor was listening with bated breath, his analytical mind soaking up every detail like a sponge. But this tidbit held more personal information than the rest. He felt self-conscious again.

"Have you shifted to a plant-based diet?" Gast asked, impatient in the face of silence. "I have a colleague who's adopted a similar practice with academically intriguing results."

"That's not—no. I bring homemade meals."

"I didn't take you for a chef. You're just full of surprises! My Aerith is a savant in the kitchen as well."

"I know. She's the one who made them."

"Oh my." Gast suddenly stopped, his face contorted with something Squall couldn't quite discern. Was he angry? Sad? Disappointed? It didn't look good either way. He regretted saying anything and tried to figure out a way forward, but Gast cut him off by poking at his provisions pack. "It's in there, then, I take it—what she's cooked for you?"

Squall nodded. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes, quite, verily so." Gast placed a heavy hand on Squall's shoulder and twitched his mustache. "I venture to hypothesize that the foodstuffs in your pack are solely intended for your personal consumption?"

"Yeah."

"That simply won't do. I propose that it is only proper that you and I break bread on equal footing and partake in concert this cornucopia of delectables."

It took a second for Squall to realize just what the professor was saying. "You want me to share?"

"Indubitably." Gast was almost salivating.

So he's jealous I've got Aerith's cooking. No harm in giving him some. Should be plenty to go around. "Sure."

The professor clapped his hands together with eager glee. "Exquisite! Now let's open up that pack…" He reached for the provisions, but Squall batted away his hand.

"No meals until we reach the peak."

"Bah! I require sustenance for this tiresome hike!"

"Here." Squall tossed him a strip of jerky.

Gast stared at it in revulsion. "What ill manner of leather is this?"

"Dried venison," Squall said between chews of his own.

Sniffing it with a sour frown, the professor's mustache twitched in surprise at the smoky scent. He dabbed at its coarse, salty surface with the tip of his tongue and was enticed enough by the peppery favor to take a small bite. Then two, and three. "Not bad," he said after chomping half the strip.

Squall tried not to chuckle, but a small one escaped. He couldn't help it. Professor Gast was an animated, peculiar man with an undeniable innocence no different from Yuffie's or any other little kid's. Nothing at all like the stodgy scientists that he grew to know through ceremonies and mandatory patrols. Like the man himself, Ansem's cohorts always carried a misanthropic air and mystique about them. They couldn't care less about the troubles or travails of townsfolk that they claimed to serve. Most never left the castle, preferring instead to work in the shadows on unknown projects that caused an endless string of disasters for the town below. Although quirky, verbose, and at times bitter, Gast was an endearing man full of wonderment.

They continued hiking through the forest until they came to an elevated dirt path that snaked up into the nearby mountain. As they broke from the umbrella of the tree line, Gast halted their advance to gaze skyward. "Do you see any birds?" he whispered.

Squall looked around, but saw nothing in the clear skies. "What would a raven be doing all the way out here anyway?"

"Never underestimate Diaval. He goes where she demands him."

"She?"

Gast stayed eerily silent. His head still craned to the sky, he was loathe to move until Squall nudged him minutes later. When he finally looked at the soldier, Gast twitched his mustache and leaned in close to one of Squall's ears. "The witch."

"The w—"

The professor shushed him. "Speak no evil, Squall." He started walking again, head still scanning the placid skies.

Squall matched his stride but remained silent. While he didn't understand the specifics, he trusted Gast. With one last lungful of the aromatic evergreens, he felt like the forest air had bathed his heart and mind in a rejuvenating cleanse. Nothing seemed so certain as his footsteps on the earth. All of the fears darkening his soul washed away with the cool, arboreal breeze.

Now greeted by the fragrant tapestry woven from the earth's mountainous bounty, he felt closer to his true self. Free, unbound, and whole. Every step up the gravel path brought him crisp and grounded completion. Through it all, his thoughts never wandered far from Aerith. Her eyes as verdant as the alpine canopy, hair the hue of nourishing, rich topsoil, skin like the smooth surface of a clear lake. Squall's first love was the earth, but his truest love would always be Aerith. He wanted nothing more than to share the floral sweetness of the untraversed mountain valley with her. One day.

As they ascended the rugged incline, their progress slowed. But neither traveler minded. Both scaled the golden, rocky slopes with all their senses heightened to the world around them. They silently soaked in the sunshine and earthy scents of nature's bounty. As predicted, the summit came into view around the three hour mark. At the top, a lush field of king's crowns, bluebells, gentians, and buttercups all waved in the wind to greet the intrepid travelers. Squall wanted to throw himself into the grass and roll around, but he felt self-conscious in front of Gast. His embarrassment went straight out the window when the professor rushed past him with a boyish cry and dove straight in.

"Wa-hoo!" Gast tossed off his pack and belly-flopped into the flowers as if jumping into a pool. Waving his arms around, he brushed across every petal, stem, and blade of grass. An impossibly big, blissful smile stretched across his face.

Squall just watched him, uncertain what to think. At some point when he ventured to move, he picked his own spot to plop down. Tearing his glove off with his teeth, he ran his naked fingers through the soft flowers, likening them to the feel of Aerith's delicate hands.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?"

Squall glanced up. He had been so entranced by the sensory delight of the sun-warmed flowers that he failed to notice Gast had scooted closer to him.

"I know that look, and the feeling." The professor stroked a nearby pink lily. "This place is alive with her. With Ifalna's majesty. To press my body against this meadow is analogous to embracing her." He carefully thumbed over the lily's petals, not unlike how Squall always massaged Aerith's hand. Leaning in, he buried his nose into the cup and deeply inhaled. A tear streaked down his cheek. "To be without her is an emptiness unlike any other. What is the point of me without her?"

"What about your daughter?"

Gast took a cloth out from his jacket pocket. With a swift tug, he removed his tinted glasses and wiped them as he looked up at Squall. His squinting eyes were kind, green beacons of light like his daughter's—the same ones that always gazed over the world with such hope and adoration. "I will always love my darling Aerith," he said, new tears welling in his shining eyes. "But she doesn't need me. I was largely absent in her life, nonexistent when she needed me most. And so, my little girl grew up without me—nay, in spite of me. She's strong, independent, and a force unto herself. My daughter is her own meadow, her own world. I'm little more than a tiny myosotis swaying in her wind." Gast replaced his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose and eclipsing the light once more. "Besides," he said, getting to his feet, "she has you now, doesn't she?" A wistful smile tugging at his cheeks, he extended his hand.

Squall took it in silence, unsure of what he could possibly say. Before he could so much as attempt to wrestle with his thoughts, Gast pulled him into a surprise hug and patted him on the back. "Be good to her. Always. And when you have children of your own, don't abandon them to a shadow you cast in grief."

"Yeah," Squall said, his voice trembling with emotion. He felt like crying himself and didn't understand why. In so many words, Gast just gave his daughter away to the soldier. A gust blew through the meadow, whipping up a trail of colorful petals that encircled the two men. Maybe Ifalna also approved.

With a tip of his bowler hat, Gast turned away and wandered deeper into the meadow. Squall lingered a little, trying to quiet his racing thoughts. When he finally settled down, he took up his sketch pad again and headed to an overlook. At last, he could see the entirety of the valley below and was awestruck by its beauty. Most of the land sat inside a caldera with a glassy lake in its center. All manner of lush vegetation fettered around the edges, untouched by the snowy exterior resting just outside the circular ridge. The geothermal reservoir must have reached the entire circumference.

Reaching for his binoculars, Squall enhanced his surveillance of the area. At once, he noticed a small island in the center of the lake. Something about it seemed off, but he couldn't quite figure out why. On a fresh page in his notebook, he started drawing a more detailed depiction of the island, hoping something would click. Just as he was shading in some of the rock formations, the realization set in. The shadows were all wrong. They didn't match the sun's location. Increasing the magnification on his lenses, he zoomed in more trying to get a better view of the black pools cast underneath the rocks. That's when he saw them—the yellow lights dotted across the darkness. They hearkened him back to the hedge outside the church. Those glowing eyes staring up at him. Were they the same?

As the sun continued to move across the horizon, Squall stood at attention, his sights trained on the shadows. Were his eyes just getting tired or did the shadows ripple like a tide? The yellow dots undulated as if in a watery current. At some point, an obnoxious ruffling sound pulled him from his observations. "What the hell are you doing?" Squall growled, shooting an irritated scowl at Gast.

"Don't look at me like that!" the professor snapped, his hand jammed deep into the soldier's provisions pack fishing around for goods. "It's time for a right and proper meal!" He pulled out a wrapped sandwich and hugged it while mewing like a giddy kitten, then bounded off to sit in the meadow.

Squall scoffed and resumed his watch, but his stomach decided to gurgle just then. Maybe it was time for lunch, or at least an early dinner judging by the sun's position. Those floating eyes weren't going anywhere. Stowing away his binoculars, Squall reached for his provisions and sifted through the mess made by Gast. The yellow lily in the center alone survived the shakeup. The food had shifted everywhere and he took a moment to stick things back into their appropriate pouches. Sandwiches, cookies, vegetable pies, and cake…and a mystery pouch. Curious, he untied the knot and opened the leather pouch only to pull out some multigrain cubes. What is this? He sniffed one, then popped it in his mouth with a crunch. It tasted bland. Nothing at all like Aerith's usual handiwork. What did she expect him to do with them? At a glance, the pouch held at least a dozen, maybe a few more. He looked back inside the satchel for any kind of clue, realizing then that the most important item of all was missing.

Where's the letter? His heart skipped a beat. Frantically, he undid all of his progress by shaking everything loose, eyes darting to every corner of the pack for a folded up piece of paper. But he couldn't find one.

"Hey!" he shouted, earning Gast's immediate attention. "Did you take a letter from in here?"

The professor calmly finished chewing and savoring his bite of sandwich before replying. "I did not, no." He took another bite, his cheeks chubby with delight.

Squall started growling like an enraged beast. It was the only thing that mattered to him. He didn't care if he needed to eat jerky for the rest of his days, but without that letter… Did she just not pack one? But why not? Suddenly feeling faint, Squall stumbled a bit. The satchel fell from his grasp. He started walking away from it like a shambling corpse. No longer hungry, he went to distract himself with more reconnaissance. But just as he reached for his binoculars, a small gust of wind blew past his ear and he felt a sudden weight on his shoulder.

"Coo, coo!"

Squall slowly turned his head and came face-to-face with a feathery visitor. Shocked, he almost recoiled. A bird! Is it a spy? Upon studying it, he noted the distinct lack of black feathers customarily associated with ravens. In contrast, its indigo and grey plumage shimmered in the sun. Curiously, it also wore a tiny little winter cap and a red and white striped scarf. It was a pigeon. A well dressed one at that.

"Shoo!" Squall grunted, waving his hand, but the pigeon just sat there and cocked its head.

"Coo!"

"Get out of here!"

"Coo, coo!"

Squall swatted at it and the pigeon finally flew away. Or so he thought. It made a tight turn in midair and landed on his other shoulder. "Just go away," he grumbled.

"Hmm, curious." Gast was now standing right next to Squall, carefully studying the bird. "I believe I recognize this one."

"Is it Diaval?"

Gast let out a deep belly guffaw. "Goodness me, no! It's a carrier. They've been in use a great deal as of late." Carefully, Gast picked up the pigeon and untied a canister that was attached to its leg. He popped it open to reveal a small, bound note that slid out into his palm. After unfurling it and reading it, his face went a little flush and he cleared his throat. "I do believe this is for you," he said, handing the note to Squall before hunching over to scrounge around the provisions pack for another snack.

Confused, Squall read the scrap of paper while his pigeon pal took up roost on his head, craning its little head down as if to read along.

[ My Dearest Squall,

I hope this letter finds you well. You're probably wondering about the pigeon. Cute, isn't she? This is Sierra—one of my uncle's trained carriers. With her help, we'll be able to stay in touch no matter how far away you travel. Just make sure to feed her a treat (the birdseed cubes I packed for you) before sending her back to me.

I pray that I'll hear from you soon. I miss you.

All my love,

Aerith ]

Squall didn't know whether to feel thrilled or annoyed by the surprise. Either way, his heart soared at the revelation that Aerith would accompany him along the journey in some capacity. Sitting down with his notebook, he struggled with his response, almost blurting out a blunt "marry me" in large print. But he reigned in that impulse, opting to honor his promise to her—or rather, her promise to him. Instead, he drew inspiration from the earth and let his heart sing its long hidden truth onto the page. If the pigeon could've carried a larger load, he would've written a novel. But he kept it short, sweet, and to the point.

When he finished writing, he carefully tore out the small note and slipped it into the canister. With a secure knot, he tied it back onto the pigeon's leg and then fed her one of the cubes. Upon pecking it, Sierra flapped her wings and shot off into the sky. Squall watched as she disappeared into the horizon.

When Gast came moseying back, he held a sandwich as an offering to the soldier. "If you didn't already know," he said with a lick of his lips, "the pesto sauce is also homemade."

His mood infinitely lighter, Squall couldn't help but grin as he took the food. The professor had globs of that same sauce stuck in his mustache.

After their meal, both men stood together at the precipice overlooking the caldera and they took turns examining the bobbing darkness. "You're right to worry," Gast eventually said, putting down the binoculars. "They're not natural shadows."

"What are they?"

"Heartless."

---

Aerith lay awake in bed for hours. Outside her window, the night glowed with an eerie hue that bounced through the clouds. But the light alone didn't break her sleep. The haunting prophecy gifted to her in the church troubled her for the rest of the day. All the people she could confide in were out of reach, resigning her to a solitary struggle. What's more, her bed felt so empty. She could still smell Squall's cedarwood cologne on her sheets as she hugged them tight, breathing in his musk to steady her nerves. But it could never replace the man himself. She missed the warmth of his tender embrace and the soothing lilt of his gentle voice.

Closing her eyes, she tried to push away the images of destruction and focus instead on happier thoughts. No matter where her mind wandered, however, it always brought her back to the flames. Just then, a tap sounded from across the room, pulling her free from the darkness. Slipping out from her covers, she walked over to the window and smiled before opening it. A gust of wind blew in carrying Sierra.

"I've been worried about you," Aerith said, following the pigeon to her newly installed perch in the corner and giving her a little pet on the back. "I hope you didn't have too much trouble finding him."

"Coo, coo!" Sierra cocked her head and watched as the canister was removed from her leg.

As she read the unfurled message, Aerith's knees buckled from a sudden wave of euphoria and she stumbled back into bed.

[ Dearest Aerith,

Your presence in my life is like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm, bringing warmth and light to even the darkest corners of my heart. Your laughter dances through my mind like a babbling brook, its melody soothing my soul and washing away any worries that may have taken root.

Every moment I spend away from you is agony. I love you. I miss you. When I return, I never want to part from you again.

- Squall]

"You charmer," she murmured, trying not to cry. After reading it a few more times, though, she couldn't stop herself any longer. Lying down, she hugged the note to her chest while sniffling into her scented covers. Somehow she managed to fall asleep, consoled by the phantom presence of the man who loved her.

The next day, Aerith sent Sierra flying with another note before setting out for the church. Nothing remarkable happened that morning, however. As she undertook her daily ritual of caring for her mother's lilies, they remained silent. The message spoke for itself in totality. All responsibility for heeding its warning rested now on her shoulders, but she refused to carry the burden alone. Breaking with routine, she hung a large, colorful sign on the church gate to let the children know she would be gone for the rest of the day.

Back in town, she walked the snowy cobblestone street past the frozen fountain square and towards the castle. In recent weeks, the Guard had installed a new checkpoint at the foot of the castle with a dozen soldiers appointed at the post at all times. They watched her approach from their towers behind the tall palisades as the two guards at the front greeted her.

"State your purpose," demanded the head guard, his demeanor overbearing and baleful as his bulky body loomed over her. He was nothing like Squall. None of them were. Each dressed in a grandiose uniform carrying large, menacing weapons. They scowled at her with faces like chiseled gargoyles, either out of spite for having to work or because they knew she didn't belong.

"I'm here to see Merlin," Aerith declared. "I'm his pupil."

The second guard came out of the nearby booth holding a clipboard and flipped through the pages. "Name?"

"Aerith."

After a long pause and a few more ruffled pages, the guard shook his head. "I don't see you. What time is your appointment?"

"I don't have one."

The two guards exchanged a suspicious glance. "Let's see some identification." The head guard extended his grabby hand.

"Since when do I need ID and an appointment to visit my mentor?" Aerith asked, taken aback.

"Ansem's orders. Either obey them or get out." The guard was obviously banking on the latter as he postured deeper into Aerith's personal space, trying to intimidate her into leaving. But she refused to yield.

"I appreciate that you have a job to do—and there's no question that you're very dedicated—but as a wizard's apprentice, I have every right to come and go as I please. I'm sure you'll agree that it would be a very bad, and perhaps even dangerous, idea to inconvenience a powerful woman such as I—someone who could easily reach the rank of Mage General in your army." Aerith held open her palm and summoned a large, scorching ball of flame to emphasize her point.

Recoiling from the heat, the head guard took three measured steps backwards and signaled to his subordinate to raise the barrier. "Sorry for the misunderstanding," he grumbled under his breath, chewing his words and avoiding eye contact as he stepped aside to allow her passage.

With a victorious grin, Aerith navigated around him and started her trek up the fortress. She could feel the darting glares of each soldier that she passed, but they didn't dare make a move against her. The journey to Merlin's tower used to take her through breathtaking vistas and cozy gardens, but now everything looked jagged, menacing, and violent. Instead of winter landscapes and topiaries, she passed palisades, barbed barricades, and soldiers that either leered at her or were too busy sparring to notice her ascent. New wooden outposts obstructed the view of the town below and the valley beyond. The gardens had been chopped down to make room for soldier tents. Dozens of construction sites dotted the path with drilling equipment, explosives, steel girders, and all manner of cogwheels. Radiant Garden looked more like a hollowed out bastion than anything to do with its namesake.

When she finally reached Merlin's place, she met with yet another obstruction. Someone had installed a new door blocking the stairwell to the tower proper. It lacked a handle or any perceivable mode of entrance. Aerith studied it a bit, noting the elaborate stained glass lightning bolt decorating the full length of the metal door.

"Could it be that simple?" she wondered. Static crackled between her fingertips. With one false move, she cut her hand through the air. A thunder bolt followed in her wake, striking the door and jolting it to life. The stained glass glowed golden as the metal slab groaned to life. It shot up and receded into the rock face above, granting Aerith passage.

Up the long, winding stairs, the door to the tower lay open with a tall, robed man standing in the alcove. "Oh my dear, it's only you!" Merlin exclaimed, relaxing his wand at his side.

"Who else would it be?" Aerith asked, confused.

"One can never be too careful these days." Merlin clapped a hand on Aerith's shoulder and guided her inside, slamming the door shut with his foot.

"Just what's going on? This place looks so different now."

Only when Merlin sat them down at his round, wooden table and poured them each a mug of hot tea did he relax enough to answer. "There's a war coming," he said, stroking his long beard as he blew to cool his peppermint brew.

"War? Is this why you suspended our lessons?"

Merlin's wizened eyes flickered with a brief flash of sadness. He paused to take a sip, hoping to obscure his pity. "I thought it for the best," he replied, more to his teacup than to his pupil. "Your schedule faired better with one less responsibility in it, did it not? It gave you greater freedom to enjoy the company of others for a change."

"You mean Squall," Aerith clarified, watching him wince. He couldn't fool her. "You know something. Tell me." She leaned across the table, her pleading eyes forcing his to hold her stare. Merlin was a world-renowned soothsayer, a prognosticator with the power to see centuries into the future. Even if he appeared to many as a clumsy, old fuddy-duddy, Aerith knew that he seldom acted without precision or care.

"Well," Merlin said, clearing his throat as he masterfully diverted the subject, "there is war on the horizon. You must have sensed it. Your powers have developed enough, I should think."

Aerith didn't answer at first. She continued probing his eyes, searching for that bed of foreboding sorrow, but he buried it too deep for her to unearth. Whatever secrets the wizard held, he kept them close to his chest. "I did have a vision," she said eventually, sitting back in her seat. "It's why I came to see you." She told him about the fire, the swordsman, and the warning. All the while, Merlin stroked his beard and listened careful, cradling his hot mug in his wrinkled hands while inhaling the steam.

"And so it comes sooner than anticipated," the old wizard hummed. "We must hasten our preparations."

"Are we really going to leave this world?"

"Soon, yes."

"But how?"

"I've been meeting with Cid in secret for some time now, sharing schematics for a new manner of ship. Once he completes its construction, we'll take as many innocent townsfolk as we can to a faraway world untouched by Darkness."

"Is that what he's been building in his garage all this time?"

"Yes, away from the prying eyes of the castle's ilk."

Aerith stirred her tea. The swirl in her mug matched her mind's mired thoughts. "What's happening to our world? Is there really no way to avoid a war?"

"The Darkness is moving. Its emissaries have already infiltrated the castle. The soldiers you met on your way here weren't stationed to protect the people, rather, they are the vanguard for the inevitable outbreak."

"Outbreak?"

Merlin set down his teacup with a clank and leaned forward, his forehead a mess of creases. "Their hearts are forfeit."

Aerith didn't quite understand, but she knew enough to recognize the danger. "Train me," she said, suddenly getting up from her seat with fists balled at her sides. "I'm not going to get on some ship and run away without fighting back."

A sly smirk stretched under Merlin's beard. "Yes, of course. I would expect nothing less from my prized pupil." The wizard pulled out his wand. Waving it in the air, he enchanted his table and tea set so that they stored themselves in the corner. With the floor freed, he summoned forth a magical barrier to box himself and Aerith inside of a training ring. "Now remember the cardinal rule," he said, drawing sparkling symbols in the air with his wand, "one precise strike—"

"—is worth a thousand aimless swings!" Aerith finished, launching an icicle at the old wizard and effectively knocking off his steeple hat.

"I wasn't ready!" the codger huffed, snatching his hat up from the floor to a chorus of his pupil's giggles.

"Sorry, sorry! I just saw an opening."

"An opening, eh? I'll give you an opening you won't soon forget!" The wizard replaced his hat upon his crown and then conjured a mystic cloud that enveloped his body in a thick, blue fog. Two flaming eyes punched through the haze heralded by a wild roar. A dragon stalked out, opening its mouth wide to unleash a relentless onslaught of fireballs.

Aerith threw up an ice shield, but it melted under the dragon's scorching wrath. She tried a few more times, resulting in a massive puddle pooling at her feet. At some point, she lost her footing and slipped head-first into the ground. Stunned and disoriented, she could do little to stave off the looming flamethrower.

"Never forget, Aerith," the dragon said in its deep, booming voice that echoed throughout the tower, "a disadvantage is only a perspective—a challenge waiting to be turned into an advantage." He stalled there, his claws just inches from her struggling body, giving her some time to think.

Aerith assessed her surroundings. The dragon was so huge and powerful that her other elemental attacks did nothing. Thunder barely grazed its thick scales, it devoured her fire, and the wind just made it sniffle a little. But everything had a weakness, didn't it? Darting her eyes around the field, she realized the dragon now stood inside the large puddle of water. There was her opening. With a swift roll, she pressed her chest down in the puddle and kicked off, sliding down her foe's underbelly. While the rest of his scales were hard as rock, the ones underneath were soft and tender and bled from her previous assault. Just a small trickle, but enough for Merlin to bring his tail to protectively curl around the area. Taking aim, she launched a sharp icicle that cut into the dragon with a sharp slice.

Merlin erupted with a ground-shaking roar as he collapsed like a sack of bricks. In a puff of smoke, he reverted back to his human form and lay dazed in the puddle until Aerith came to his side. With her healing touch, she soon brought him back to his feet.

"Excellent work," praised the wizard, rubbing his aching head. "But next time think faster. A real dragon won't wait for you to figure things out on your own."

"Do you really think I'll have to fight a real dragon?" Aerith asked whimsically. She couldn't fathom it.

"Life is a journey where you never know who you will run into next," replied the sage, old man with cunning accentuating his laughter. "Expect the unexpected and you'll always be prepared."

After taking a brief rest to recover, Merlin started a new sparring match. The two spent the rest of the day training, peppering in the occasional meal break in between. When night fell and Aerith stood at the door to leave, her mentor held her back for a moment. His eyes again betrayed his inner sorrow. As he stroked his beard mulling over his words, he started to say one thing but transitioned to saying another. "When a horrible, inconceivable tragedy befalls you…the answer is more training. I expect to see you again tomorrow."

Aerith paused, searching his eyes for a deeper meaning. But he just averted his gaze and withdrew into his nearby study with a hasty "goodnight."

Climbing down through the fortress at night gave Aerith chills. Large, deep shadows plunged the path into darkness. Even with the stars twinkling bright the sky, no light could penetrate the thick, infinite black. She summoned a ball of fire to help guide her steps, but that immediately brought down the wrath of the nearby guards. They charged into formation, weapons at the ready to strike the intruder. They barked orders at her in unison, never giving her time to reply.

"Hands in the air!"

"State your business!"

"ID! Now!"

"On the ground! Move! Move!"

Overwhelmed and frantic, Aerith snapped. "Stop it!" she yelled, her guiding flame pulsating and silencing them all. "One at a time, please! Will someone tell me what's going on?"

"You're violating curfew," stated one soldier, his weapon still aimed at her.

"What curfew? The castle grounds are always open!"

"Not anymore. Visiting hours terminate at 17:00. You're trespassing on castle property. Either show us your ID badge or we'll have to arrest you."

Playing the apprentice card wasn't going to work this time. The guards had completely surrounded her and started closing in. "Can't we just call this an innocent mistake?" Aerith pleaded, but the soldier replied by taking out his handcuffs. Looking around at all the guards, Aerith didn't know what to do. Should she risk attacking them and incurring the army's wrath? Getting tossed in a prison didn't sound any better. After such a long day training, her aching body didn't have the energy to go all-out, or even to defend herself long enough to make a break for it. Every weary muscle inside her was screaming for rest. She knew this was a battle that she couldn't win.

Despite her protests, the guard grabbed her by the hand while two others pounced to restrain her. As one of her wrists was cuffed, a sudden voice cut through the darkness.

"She's with me!" Cid hurried down the stairs flashing his badge. The guards quickly looked at each other and scurried away like confused rats. When Cid reached Aerith, he took her cuffed hand in his and held it up to the soldier demanding he release her. Without a word, the cuff came off, but the soldier didn't move back.

"Where's her visitor's pass?"

"Must've left it in the workshop," Cid explained on the fly, tugging Aerith close. "Won't happen again."

With a menacing scowl, the guard studied them both for a bit. "See that it doesn't," he snarled. "And put out that light!"

Cid nodded to Aerith and she willed away her flame. "Have a goodnight, fellas!" Cid didn't stay to chat any longer. He guided Aerith down the path and didn't speak again until they were past the guard post at the foot of the mountain.

"If you hadn't come when you did…" Aerith couldn't stop trembling. She managed to stay strong for so long, but now felt so cold and weak. The realization of what fate awaited her slapped a powerful weight onto her shoulders.

"It's not safe up there anymore, sweet pea," Cid said, bringing her to lean against him as he led the way home. "Did you visit Merlin?"

Aerith nodded. She lacked the energy to speak. A terrible vertigo suddenly washed over her and she felt queasy.

As they passed under a nearby lantern, Cid noticed her face turning pale. "Listen, I don't think your folks are coming down tonight. Why don't you sleep at my place?" When Aerith didn't say anything, he wasn't sure what to do. "Unless you'd rather I get that boyfriend of yours? Maybe he can come keep an eye on you?"

"N-no, he's…still away," Aerith struggled to reply. She couldn't hold it in any longer. The nausea overpowered her.

"That's it, you're coming with me!" Cid stated, pulling out a handkerchief to dab at her mouth. Slowly, he helped her into his house and under the covers of his bed. After some running around, he brewed up a kettle of tea and fished out some salty crackers. He sat with her, giving her tiny sips of chamomile and little bites of cracker until she calmed down. It reminded him of when she was a little girl and he hand-fed her snacks. "Gonna go pop over to yours. What can I get ya?"

"Really, Uncle Cid, I'm fine. I can go home now."

"Uh uh. Ain't no way I'm letting you do that. I suspect the Guard's gonna be watching your place from now on."

"What do you mean?"

Cid hesitated for a bit. Rubbing the back of his neck, he mulled over his words. "I'm gonna level with ya, sweet pea," he said with a sigh. "Folk've been disappearing a lot lately."

"Disappearing? Like who?"

"People that the white suits don't like. Anyone that talks back, that has different ideas or asks too many questions. And I hate to say it, but I think you just made the Guard's shit list."

"How? All I did was take a walk on what should be public land!"

"It ain't public anymore. It's the castle's and the white suits've got an army guarding it." Cid started for the door. "I'm gonna go grab your night stuff. Be back in a jiffy." Before Aerith could protest, he opened the door only for a gust of wind to blow in from the adjacent window, carrying Sierra on its tail.

"Coo, coo!"

"Well hey there, girl!" Cid exclaimed with a broad smile. He cupped the pigeon in his hands and gave her a quick nuzzle. "Done makin' the rounds?"

Sierra bobbed her head around until her eye fixated on Aerith. Cid followed the sight line, noting his niece's blushing face, and put the pieces together. "So this is what you wanted her for, huh? Sending love letters!" He let out a raucous chuckle as he carried the bird over to the bedside.

"Well, I did say I had an important mission for her," Aerith replied with a sheepish smile. Petting Sierra, she untied the canister and slipped the latest note into her palm. But instead of opening it, she looked up to glare at Cid, who was eagerly trying to spy a peek. "Don't you have errands to run?"

"Oh-ho! I thought you didn't want anything?"

"You'll find my night gown in the closet and toiletries by the sink."

"Heh, sure, kiddo," Cid snickered as he left.

As soon as she heard the front door click shut, Aerith unfurled the letter.

[ Dearest Aerith,

Your words reflect your beauty and splendor. I'll forever hold them close to my heart. As I venture across these unexplored lands, all I can think is that you should be here by my side. So that we may experience this adventure together. A new beginning for us both. One day, we'll make that a reality.

My next letter might be delayed. I'm heading into enemy territory and I don't know how long I'll be out of reach. Just know that wherever I go, you're never far from my thoughts. I love you.

- Squall ]

"Oh, Squall…" Aerith let out a shaky sigh as her eyes grew misty. Suddenly, she felt so vulnerable and emotional. She wanted nothing more than to run out into the valley and join him, to race to that beautiful future he envisioned for the two of them. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine his tender arms wrapped around her, guiding her to a happier, freer world.

After awhile, Aerith settled on her response, but she lacked the paper. Remembering that Cid always kept some stationary near the coffee table, she eased off the bed and got to her feet. But she didn't make it far before another dizzy spell sent her tumbling into a wall. The room was spinning. Her stomach started churning and it felt like a losing battle trying to hold down those few bites of crackers from earlier. She dashed for the bathroom and only just made it. When Cid finally came back, he found her almost passed out on the floor.

---

Squall and Professor Gast opted to pitch camp and wait until morning to brave the caldera. The meadow on high provided a strong defensible position and afforded them easy surveillance over the enemy manifesting in the center of the lake. As they sat around the fire planning their strategy, Squall had a pressing question on his mind—one that the professor continued to avoid all afternoon. "What are Heartless? I need to know."

Gast poked at the fire with a branch, the reflected flames dancing off his tinted glasses "Desperation leads men to terrible deeds. I pray you never find yourself in a similar plight."

"What did you do?"

"My crimes are willful ignorance and tacit complicity." Sweat trickled down the professor's brow. Even the cool mountain air couldn't soothe him. "My daughter asks so little of me. When she does have a request, how can I refuse her? And so she came to me one day inquiring into the wellbeing of young Cloud. A good lad—innocent and clement—I always assumed that he and Aerith would—ahem."

Squall grimaced and the professor bowed his head in apology.

"Forgive me, I'm rambling about a past so far gone that it harbors no bearing now. It's nothing to stoke your envy, I assure you. Suffice to say, as a negligent father, those memories of yore weighed heavy on my soul. I endeavored to watch over Cloud and that is how I learned of a most diabolical scheme. For you see, while I toiled away the long hours looking for a doorway to my Ifalna, my colleagues' ambitions were of a more sinister design. They engaged in the most unholy of experiments."

"Are you saying the scientists created those Heartless things down there?"

"Those without hearts," Gast clarified with a nod. "What is a man in his truest essence? A combination of base desires tempered by conscience and morality. In other words, darkness and light intertwine within us all, bound by harmony and balance. But what happens when that balance is artificially offset, skewed in favor of one domain over the other? That is the research question my colleagues set out to study."

"But why do something like that?" Squall asked. "What's the point in turning people into black puddles?"

"That," Gast said, finally looking up from the fire, "is what we must discover. I know only that they have been transporting corrupted townsfolk in secret to a facility near here."

"The ordnance."

"Yes. Experimental specimens transformed into bestial shadows. Weapons of a new age."

Crossing his arms, Squall fell into deep contemplation. He never understood the point of the Guard—of soldiers like himself or Auron. Weapons, explosives, training, sparring, drills—all without purpose. Radiant Garden never knew war. Perhaps it existed in its most remote history, but no one dwelled on those types of dusty, old chronicles. When he ascended as sovereign decades ago, Ansem had promised the world an age of innovation, one governed by reason and enlightenment. Where did these Heartless fit into his plan?

"I was always taught," the soldier said, slowly coming out of his introspective maze, "that war was necessary. That we alone stood between peace and chaos, victory and defeat, life and death. That's why we trained so hard—to protect the world from evil. But I never saw any of that. What evil? Just who is the enemy that we're fighting against?"

"Even in my day, I never knew such strife," Gast harrumphed. "I always assumed it a form of psychological manipulation for the world's more belligerent denizens. Misfits unable to find a place outside of physical brutality and violence. Control for the sake of stability."

"I resent that," Squall growled, squeezing his bicep.

"Present company excluded, of course. There are exceptions to every rule."

Squall scoffed, but didn't flinch when Gast reached over to give him a hearty, apologetic pat on the shoulder. "Leaving that for a minute, let's reexamine what we know," said the soldier, tossing a new log into the dwindling fire. "The island down below is teeming with Heartless, so it stands to reason that the facility we're after must be there somewhere."

"They're likely gushing out of the drainage infrastructure," Gast agreed. "In the absence of any other evidence, our best option is to clear the field and explore under the guidance of sunlight."

"Provided we have any sun," Squall muttered, eying his portable barometer. "There's a chance we'll see some precipitation tomorrow."

"Either way, it's preferable to act during the day. It's probable that they draw strength from the night."

"Probable?"

"Well, I've hardly tested the things, now have I? This is as much a learning experience for me as it is for you." Gast fished around the nearby provisions pack and pulled out a handful of gingerbread biscuits, offering some to Squall. "You've been generous in explaining your cartographical and survival techniques to a novice such as myself. Now you must allow me to reciprocate and instruct you in the ways of scientific analysis."

"It couldn't hurt to pick up a few new tricks," Squall hummed, munching on a cookie. The warming spices imparted a pleasant aftertaste. He always appreciated that Aerith didn't use too much sugar in her bakes, preferring the natural flavors to speak for themselves.

"Then it's decided: at dawn's first light, we descend."

With both men in agreement, they decided to get an early night's sleep. Squall unraveled the bedrolls, but the professor declined to use one. He preferred instead to sleep on the bare ground. "To be one with her again," he had said before taking off his bowler hat and laying his head to rest in the flowers.

Staring at his own bedroll, Squall weighed the merit of Gast's aspirations. Wholly illogical, and yet, perhaps there was some credence in them. Would he feel one with Aerith if he slept on the raw earth? Would he somehow come through to her on the other side of the world? Glancing over at Gast, he noted that the scientist was fast asleep. Good. Squall didn't want an audience. It felt too personal, even if he and the older man shared so many commonalities. Lying down several inches away from his bedroll, Squall eased himself into the grass and filled his lungs with the meadow's floral aroma. Although far from comfortable, the ground didn't feel as cold as he thought, and somehow, it did make him feel like Aerith was next to him. Or maybe he was just imagining things. Either way, he fell asleep envisioning her smile.

The next morning, Squall awoke to a mouthful of petals. Some had also gone up his nose, along with a wriggling caterpillar. He hacked everything out and wiped himself clean with his sleeve. Being one with the earth did little more than give him a neck cramp, although he did slumber peacefully through the night and dream about Aerith. Instead of a dismal vision of barren destruction, the two of them lay in her bed holding each other. It almost felt like he had been consoling her. In a strange way, her consternation still lingered within his heart.

"Tried it yourself, eh?" Gast chuckled with a knowing smile. He was already warming breakfast by the fire. At the rate he gobbled Aerith's food, their provisions would run out within the day. Squall didn't mind hunting, but he wanted to at least savor a few more home cooked goods first. Just what had the professor brought with him, anyway? Surely he didn't leave town without any supplies, right?

"Not the most comfortable," Squall grumbled, taking a covert peek into Gast's pack. He saw some bags of sunflower seeds littered between a few scientific-looking instruments and not much else. That's all he brought on a major hike?

"It's not about the comfort," the professor contended with a twitch of his mustache. "It's about the company." He took the vegetable pies off the flame and placed the piping hot pan on a nearby rock that served as their makeshift table. "Did you dream of her? I could hear my Ifalna's voice for the first time in years. It was as though a severed connection had been mended."

"What did she say?" Squall asked, taking a fork and chomping down on his food. Aerith's vegetables were always the most succulent and flavorful. She grew them herself, after all.

Gast's face conveyed so many complex emotions that it was hard to discern his joy from melancholy. He lifted his fork close to his mouth, but then lowered it again. His eyes fell with it, landing at the pink lily that brushed against his leg. "She said…" Gast almost choked with tears, his voice growing faint. "She said she loved me, but that I should give up my search."

Squall's stomach turned sour. That answer hurt him in a way he never anticipated. He could have dismissed it as a nightmare—as little more than an overactive subconscious riddled with fears. But hearing Gast's words unearthed that haunting, shadowy hellscape that dogged Squall ever since he first dreamed of it. That small, connecting thread again reared into focus, tempting him to tug it. What would happen if the tapestry unraveled?

"What will you do?" Squall asked after a long time of silence.

"Keep going, of course," Gast sniffled, somehow finding the will to continue eating. Salty tears splashed onto his food, but he didn't care. "I can feel her—sense her presence all around me. She's so close now. Closer than I dared to hope. The door must be here. Somewhere." After finishing his meal, he cleaned his glasses and then started packing the camp.

Squall lingered a bit, forcing himself to eat in preparation for the battle ahead. But all the while, his mind ran away with itself, coiling around that omen of dread. What made it so real? It didn't make sense. Foresight didn't exist, did it? Even if it did, why now? Why him? He closed his eyes, trying to steady his nerves, focusing on one thought to ground all the others: Aerith. No matter how desolate or dismal that nightmare, she would never leave him. He needed to believe that, to know it.

Just then, a gust of wind blew past his ears and a sudden weight pulled down his shoulder. Squall opened his eyes and came face-to-face with Sierra.

"Coo, coo!"

A bit surprised, Squall wondered how the pigeon possessed such impeccable timing. Without giving the bird a second glance, he went straight for the canister and read the note with elated eagerness.

[ My beloved Squall,

Your beautiful poetry has enraptured my heart and inspired me to try some of my own: Like a hurricane, you are unpredictable yet captivating, leaving me breathless in your wake. Just as the tempest eventually subsides, imparting a sense of calm and clarity, so too does your love bring peace to my restless heart. In your arms, I find shelter from life's storms, knowing that with you, I am safe and loved beyond measure.

Forever yours,

Aerith ]

Last night's dream didn't seem so farfetched anymore. Had she experienced the same? Maybe her choice of words were just a coincidence, but his heart refused to accept that. Something mystical encircled them both, bridging their hearts in a way he never deemed possible. Was it the earth? Could it speak, invade their minds, transport their hearts? The revelation granted him equal measures of excitement and worry. But he didn't want to burden Aerith with those kinds of thoughts just yet. After reaching for his notebook, he poured his desires onto the page and cautioned her that his next letter might not arrive as quickly. He fed a seed cube to Sierra and she flew away into the wind, carrying with her a different kind of dream.

"Ready for our departure?" Gast asked, snug in his bowler hat and coat, raring to go with his pack slung over his shoulders.

"Yeah," Squall nodded, reaching for his gear. He extinguished the fire and then looked down into the caldera through his binoculars. The island still teemed with shadows, perhaps even more than yesterday. "When we get down there, stay behind me."

"Fear not, I intend to assume an observational position."

They hiked down a path that fed into the caldera. Overhead, grey clouds blew in to block the sun. A light misting of rain blanketed the travelers' descent and steeped the valley in a hazy, white fog. When they finally reached the lake, Gast found a suitable spot behind some rocks to duck behind and took out some gadgets from his pack. Squall watched as the professor opened his own notebook—a large, black leather tome filled with detailed sketches, notes, and formulae.

"Aren't you worried about that getting wet?" Squall whispered as he crouched down beside Gast.

"Waterproof," explained the professor. He opened a metal box filled with gizmos and started assembling them into a headset with a telescopic lens jutting from one of the eyes. Taking off his bowler and nestling his glasses within it, he adjusted the device over his crown. "This takes live measurements from the field such as mass, weight, biochemical physiology, and age."

"Age?"

"Yes, through a remote radiocarbon dating procedure. For example…" Gast looked up at Squall, the gears on his device whirring as the lens focused on the soldier's curious face. "I can tell that you are precisely twenty-six years, eleven months, seventeen days, and eight point one six hours old."

"That's…very accurate," Squall said, amazed and a little unnerved. "What about those Heartless?"

"Indeed." The professor peeked out from behind the rock and zoomed in on the pool of darkness ebbing across the island's surface. "Curious. They're inorganic."

"What does that mean?"

"It means they're not carbon-based lifeforms. They also lack mass."

"Doesn't all matter have mass?"

Gast continued analyzing the Heartless in silence for a few more moments before pulling the headset off and replacing his glasses. "I suspect that they are not comprised of matter," he replied, picking up his notebook to jot down his observations. "Initial assessments returned no detectable known particles. This phase of testing is therefore inconclusive."

"I don't think I follow," Squall muttered, holding his head as he struggled to understand.

"Fear not, we're about to commence a field test." Gast took out another contraption and set it down on the ground just outside the rock's cover. It was another lens, much larger than the first and hooked up to a data pad that flashed with quick lines of coding scrolling down the screen. "I need you to slowly approach the specimens."

"You want me to fight them?"

"No. Just walk towards them—slowly. I want to gauge and measure their reaction."

"What if they attack me?"

"Do your best to evade, but counter only if you must. Your safety is priority, but our data collection is no less important."

Squall nodded and placed a tentative hand on the hilt of his blade. "All right." Taking careful, measured steps, he started making his way across the thin, solitary land bridge connecting the island to the bank. Light tides of lake water occasionally lapped at his boots, marking each footstep with a splash. At first, the Heartless continued bobbing and flowing like usual. The sea of glowing, yellow eyes stared straight up at the sky, unperturbed by the rain.

As he drew nearer, Squall earned their immediate attention. Every eye flashed in his direction, like a predator marking its prey. They saw him clearly through the haze, and with each progressive step, their mass swelled into a condense column that rose up high in the air. It towered over him like a dark spire, but the soldier didn't stop. When he reached a close enough distance, the column started to fracture like dried clay, with small shadows breaking off to cascade down onto the ground. They surrounded him like ants encircling a meaty leaf, their feelers probing the air as their little, black bodies writhed.

With his path cut off, Squall stopped to assess his surroundings. Heartless covered every speck of the island now including a chunk of the land bridge. He couldn't retreat even if he wanted to. His grip tightened around the Gunblade's hilt, waiting to strike at the last possible moment. Watching their rhythmic bobbing and swaying was almost hypnotic, but what were they waiting for? After studying their synchronous movements, the soldier suspected one false move would send them pouncing.

I hope the professor has enough data. I don't know how much longer they'll stand around watching. What the hell are these things supposed to be, anyway? Bugs? They don't look like much of a weapon.

Squall tried to crane his head around and glance at Gast, looking for some kind of sign of what to do next. But that small, tiny gesture, was enough to trigger the Heartless. With the peace broken, they launched themselves at the soldier, claws slashing through the air. Squall did a reflexive summersault and rolled away from the ensuing dogpile, but his foes quickly pursued him. They stabbed at his jacket, shredding it down to the skin and drawing blood.

That's the last time I underestimate them.

Reeling from the shock, he only just dodged a second onslaught before whipping out the Gunblade to tear through them as they lunged at him like a tidal wave. He sliced the blade clean through them, but to his shock it did next to nothing. Some got smacked to the ground only to quickly rebound while the others weren't even phased. They jumped clean through the Gunblade and dug their claws into Squall's chest, burrowing for his heart. He managed to grab and toss them off, but others started climbing up his legs and back as he was distracted.

My attacks have no effect! How the hell do I get rid of them?!

Growing irate and desperate, Squall dropped to the ground and rolled hoping to knock them off with the furious impact. It worked, but not for long. The Heartless regrouped in larger numbers and heaped on him, blanketing him in darkness. They undulated their hungry bodies, each burrowing into the gaps between the others to get a piece of the soldier. Just when it looked like Squall didn't have a prayer, he pulled the trigger.

A thunderous bang echoed across the caldera, followed by another and another. The Heartless went flying, many splashing into the lake. With a mighty roar, Squall gripped his Gunblade in both hands and struck the enemy with lightning fast precision. Each strike hit its target with an explosive blow as he triggered the revolver in tandem upon contact. The incendiary shockwaves made quick work of the shadows. Before long, all of them either faded into the rock or below the water until Squall was the only one standing on the island.

Out of breath, bloodied, and sore, Squall paused for a moment to recompose himself. His muscles refused to relax, remaining taut and ready to swing his weapon again if necessary. It took a while before he could convince himself to move out of his defensive posture. When he finally lowered his blade, he started the trek back towards the professor.

Behind the safety of his boulder, Gast was furiously writing down pages of notes. The data pad at his side continued scrolling through equations, letting out the occasional chime to alert its user of new conclusions. When the soldier returned, he received no recognition until he sat down next to Gast and grunted.

"What the hell did I just fight?" Squall growled, his exposed body glistening with dozens of crimson wounds.

"The Heartless," Gast stated, not looking up from his notebook.

"I thought you said they didn't have any mass!"

"They don't."

"Then how did they nearly kill me?"

"Light doesn't have mass, either, yet it could kill you if angled appropriately."

"So what, I should just take a different angle to those bugs—"

"Shadows."

"Shadows—whatever!"

"Angles won't work on shadows." Still not looking at Squall, the professor punched in some inputs into his data pad, waited, and then transcribed the new information onto paper. He fell deafeningly silent to the annoyance of his companion.

The soldier tried to calm himself, switching focus to bandaging some of his noticeable injuries. He fished around his supply pack for his first aid kit and got to work disinfecting the myriad gashes that ran across his chest, most of them made over his heart. It was a wonder how they didn't manage to pluck it out from his ribs. A few seconds more under the dogpile, and they probably would've succeeded.

At some point, Gast deigned to look up from his research. With a twitch of his mustache, he observed Squall's patchwork aid job and frowned. "I'm sorry you had to suffer that, my dear boy," he said, giving the soldier a light pat on the shoulder, "but because of you I have workable data that will net you an advantage in future skirmishes."

"Well that's something at least," muttered the soldier, somewhat relieved.

"Allow me, if you please, a moment to study your weapon."

Pulling the Gunblade from its sheathe, Squall carefully handed it to the professor with two hands. Gast took it and set it down next to yet another analytical device from his pack. After attaching some wires to the blade and its barrel, he pressed a few buttons to start the machine. It beeped and buzzed, running some kind of diagnostic. As he watched the data scroll up the screen, Gast took a handful of sunflower seeds out of his pack and munched on them. When he realized he was being rude, he pulled out the bag and offered some to Squall, but the soldier was still too high on an adrenaline boost to feel hungry.

"While we wait for the analysis, allow me to share my key findings thus far," Gast said. "The shadows exhibit signs of hive mind activity, which suggests there is a key Heartless controlling them from afar—a leader, if you will."

"That makes sense. There was something about the way they moved. Always in sync like marionettes on the same string."

"An apt analogy," the professor hummed in agreement. "Furthermore, you have no doubt noticed the plasticity of their form. This is due to their natural state as shadows—the absence of light. I hypothesize that their liquid and corporeal states are but two of many forms, perhaps even infinite possibilities. Assume nothing when calculating their spatial maneuvers."

"They even melted down into the ground just to avoid my attacks."

"Yes, in that two-dimensional phase, their wavelength is elongated, making it harder to target. You're more likely to hit the surface of their dispersion than their actual particulates."

"So don't stab at the ground? Got it."

"While on the subject of attack, you no doubt realized early on that your blade alone proved useless. That is because you cannot cut a shadow."

"Bullets worked."

"Only because of the physics behind the Gunblade's mechanics—which is what I am measuring as we speak. I hypothesize that the frequency emitted by the explosion resonated with that of the Heartless, in effect making them momentarily tangible to your strikes."

"Are you saying it was just dumb luck that I survived?"

Professor Gast pursed his lips. "Yes."

Squall couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"If you had used any other weapon—something more traditional, perhaps, such a broadsword—you would have lost your heart. Which brings me to my next observation." Gast poked at Squall's chest bandage, earning a wince from the soldier.

"Cut that out!" he growled, smacking away the professor's probing finger.

"The Heartless, it would seem, hunger for hearts," Gast said, massaging his slapped hand.

"They don't have any, so they want mine?"

"Yes, which renders the shadow a rather basic creature, driven by its survival instinct. The need to feed, if you will."

Squall crossed his arms and digested the information. "So what you're saying is that Heartless devour hearts, but only when their leader instructs them to?"

"Correct."

"So those shadows were just flunkies. There's someone higher up the food chain, which means they probably didn't escape by accident like we had originally thought."

"Yes, I've since revised my hypothesis regarding their appearance here. I now believe them to have been the infantry tasked with guarding this installation." Gast again turned his attention to the analytical device, which set off a chain of musical chimes indicating its completed task. He scrolled through the data with one hand, while the other ran a wand attachment up and down the Gunblade. Then, without warning, he grabbed the trigger and pulled it, startling Squall with its sudden boom. Ignoring his companion's irritated complaints, he took up pen and paper once more to chronicle his findings before summarizing them for the soldier.

"My hypothesis was correct," Gast said after putting down his pen. "The frequency measured from the shadows is matched by the Gunblade's frequency once the kinetic transfer is engaged."

"How does that work exactly?"

"As you know, your Gunblade does not fire live rounds. Instead, it relies on a confined explosion to kickstart a kinetic transfer of energy from the barrel to the blade, imbuing explosive properties to your attack. In effect, this results in the blade vibrating at a different frequency than it would at rest. The frequency of your blade is identical to the frequency the shadows use to phase between the physical and immaterial planes. In plain speak, your blade cuts off their retreat, forcing them to endure the full force of your attack."

Squall closed his eyes as he processed the revelation. "Which is why if I had used anything else…"

"…they would have evaded all of your offensive capabilities, worn you down, and claimed their prize."

"I managed to grab a few, though. Does brawling have any effect?"

"Only when they're operating on the physical plane. When they motion to strike, they leave themselves vulnerable to a wide surface area assault—such as from an open palm or a wide foot. Something as thin as a typical blade, say, will simply phase through, as you've already witnessed."

"Unless I use it as a bat."

"Perhaps, but in that case I would recommend a wider sword. Your Gunblade lacks surface area. I ran the numbers just now and it's several centimeters short of the ideal ratio."

Squall fell silent, mulling over the details. "I'd rather have the explosive power," he judged in the end. "The ones I chucked away just kept coming back. They didn't disappear until I started firing bullets."

"Precisely," Gast nodded in agreement, taking away the cables from the Gunblade. He packed up his machines, but didn't motion to leave. Instead, he pulled out Squall's provisions pack and fished around for one of the few remaining sandwiches, handing it to the soldier. "You should really eat to replenish your strength."

Squall stared at it, not sure what to do. He knew the wisdom in that advice, but his stomach still felt tumultuous after that wild fight. His thoughts went around in circles for ages, and to Gast's credit, he patiently waited. Squall decided to force it, taking the sandwich with little enthusiasm. But once Aerith's flavorful sauce touched his tongue, it restored his appetite. He ate the whole thing without protest.

In the time it took Squall to finish his meal, Gast had finished packing his notes and turned his attention to the injuries on the soldier's back. Squall couldn't reach them, and possibly didn't even feel them from the cold numbing the area. So the older man grabbed some disinfectant and bandages.

"Such a pity to see a vintage jacket such as this turned to shreds," the professor lamented as he finished patching all the wounds. "My Aerith is actually rather talented with a sewing needle. Perhaps she might help with restorations?"

"I know. She made the collar."

"Did she, now?" Gast paused to admire the furry mane, running his fingers through its plush warmth. "It seems her skills have truly advanced well past my memories." With a lamenting sigh, he sat back and gazed out into the lake losing himself in his own tortured thoughts.

Not long after, both men stood up, grabbed their packs, and ventured forth onto the island. Squall didn't have much chance to explore during the fight, but now without a mob of shadows in the way, he could see that the island possessed many unassuming features. From the scant few bushes to the scattered rocks, nothing stood out as suspicious. But then why station so many guards on a useless island?

While Squall examined the terrain, the professor turned his attention instead to a little gizmo that he popped out of his wristwatch. It looked like an off-white wafer and he held it up to the air, watching the light mist dampen it. As he moved around with it, however, the color started to change. A splotch of orange dyed the edges, swirling around until it reached the center of the wafer. At that point, Gast stopped at the very end of the island looking over the lake. He held out his bare hand, fingers carefully extended as they eased into nothingness, until they brushed against something that twinkled upon contact. The professor started to quiver, his heart racing fast. Beads of sweat collected all across his brow as he struggled to breathe. His hands were trembling so much that he dropped the wafer. It fluttered through the air like a butterfly and landed at Squall's feet. Upon seeing Gast collapse to his knees, he ran to his side.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Squall slid next to Gast and examined him. That's when he noticed the tears. Before Squall could inquire further, Gast broke down crying. Mucous streamed out of his nose, sticking all over his mustache as he heaved long, hard breaths. Squall wanted to say something—do something—but he didn't know what.

"I found it," blubbered the trembling professor. "I finally found it." His powerful emotions rippled all through his torso, forcing him to bow his heavy head down low.

Found what? Squall looked around, but there was nothing but air. The vista from that place looked identical to any other part of the island. Just what's so special about this place? He thought about offering a hand in consolation or even hugging him, but he felt restricted by some invisible social boundary. It didn't help that he couldn't understand the older man's reasons.

Gast continued sobbing uncontrollably and showed no signs of stopping. Squall decided to buck the boundary and placed his hand on the professor's shoulder, which gained him immediate response. At the sudden contact, Gast jerked around and collapsed into Squall's confused arms. His snotty tears went all over the bandages. Swallowing his mild disgust, the soldier held Gast for as long as he needed.

"I found it," he continued to repeat, his voice getting fainter until his mouth was moving but without any sound. It took a long time, but he eventually calmed down enough to drink some water handed to him by Squall. After blowing his nose, combing his mustache, and cleaning his glasses, he cleared his lungs out with a good cough. "It's here," he finally said, his voice weak and congested.

"What is?"

"The door. Her door."

"Ifalna's?" Squall looked out again, following the professor's eye line. "But it's just the lake."

Gast shook his head and pointed. "Reach out your hand."

Uncertain what to expect, and feeling a little silly, Squall raised his hand to the open air. "I don't—what?" Instead of waving freely in the wind, his hand bumped up against something strange. It glowed like a bright rainbow. The longer he pressed his fingers there, the more intense the light, until suddenly it blinded the two men with its radiance. When their vision returned, Squall came face-to-face with an actual door. It had a handle and everything.

Still trembling, Gast wobbled to his feet. He almost tripped, but Squall caught him. Leaning against the soldier, he brought up his shaking hand to the handle, where his fingers lingered as he savored the moment of triumph. "After so many years, so many failures, so many doubts, so many sacrifices…" He took a deep breath, trying to hold back another wave of tears. When he again found a moment of calm, he dared to press down on the handle. The door clicked open, inviting the two travelers to brave a swirling vortex.

Why would Heartless be guarding a door that leads to Ifalna? Squall wanted to voice his opinion, but kept it to himself. One way or another, he would get an answer on the other side. It was jarring to think about what awaited them, but the soldier was committed to going all the way. He needed to stop those Heartless somehow, before they were deployed on innocent people—like Aerith. Serving as a crutch for the struggling professor, Squall led the way through the portal into a whole new kind of uncharted territory.