10

CHAPTER 10 – THE GREAT SALT LAKE

The boat ran ashore after nearly an hour. Not knowing what to expect once he reached land, Squall had deliberately cut the motor once it began drawing near. That he could barely see a thing against the continent's shadowy backdrop kept him on edge, and yet likewise gave him hope he would make it without incident. Some faintly glistening streetlights, presumably set along the coastal highway were his only indication he hadn't drifted off course. He didn't dare turn on his flashlight, nor the motorcycle's headlights to make things easier; the last thing he needed was to potentially be spotted and intercepted by the coast guard. Eventually he hit the sand and, after some clumsy maneuvering of the bike, its effects, and Rinoa out of the boat in the darkness, he was off along the northeast roadway.

He soon realized he'd been highly optimistic to assume he could make it to the bridge by midday. His only point of reference had been the four hour train ride from the D-District Prison to the shore south of Timber. Though his motorcycle's top speed could handily surpass the locomotive's, he'd neglected to consider the geography and layout of the roads compared to the relatively straight shot they'd had on the private, military-operated rail line.

Traversing the winding trails along the coast had eaten up more time than he'd expected. Not all were freshly paved for that matter; plentiful potholes and upturned segments of gravel had routinely forced him to slow down, lest he endanger himself or Rinoa fastened to his back. His headlights and what occasional lampposts lined the roads could only be of so much help in the early morning pitch blackness. Only once the sun started peeking over in the east, and he could see the road clearly did he finally start making efficient headway.

Traffic was sparse, and remained so even as the day grew long. Very rarely did he spot any pedestrian vehicles out and about; those he did pass were typically cargo or tanker trucks. He could assume that all non-essential interstate travel had been restricted in the wake of Ultimecia's conquest and search for Ellone. Military vehicles were rarer still; despite his own transport's affiliation, he kept his distance and speed within a safe margin any time another merged onto the road. Neither he nor Rinoa were dressed in army uniforms, though there was the possibility his black jacket could be mistaken at a glance for those of Galbadia Garden, now exclusively worn by Seifer's contingent of sorceress' knights. Regardless, none seemed to pay him any mind.

It was already noon by his watch as he started coming up on the Rancor Plains; he'd yet to change it in accordance with the time zone, and had decided he wouldn't bother for the sake of accurately tracking his hourly progress. Gradually, his surroundings became familiar as he continued to trace the coast, and eventually passed by the very same cove where Quistis had hidden her assault boat. That he'd only stopped to refuel once thus far was promising; the motorcycle appeared to provide exceptional mileage per gallon. He still had four more cans in reserve stored in the rear compartments, and expected he would be forced to burn through at least another three by the time he reached the other side of the bridge. Provided there wasn't much further to go after that, he figured he was on pace to make it by the evening of the second day.

Timber soon came into sight in the distance. Its trademark old world architecture peeking out over what was left of the neighboring forests was just as he recalled. As he proceeded to reminisce on his short time spent working for Rinoa and the rest of the Forest Owls, he suddenly came to wonder just how Zone, Watts, and the others had been faring since his team had left. He'd barely spared them a thought in all the months gone by. However the city looked at a distance, he intuitively knew its streets were not the same as he remembered. There was no telling just how dire things had become since Ultimecia's coup. Despite his curiosity, he didn't intend to find out firsthand. Rinoa doubtless would have felt differently were she conscious. He could already practically hear her incessantly pleading with him to take a detour into town. And yet, her perpetual silence was so much worse than any amount of nagging; he would have welcomed any and all manner of protest if it meant hearing her voice again.

He continued along the highway for another hour, following the road signs for the Horizon Bridge set at routine intervals. Eventually, it came into view as he cleared the summit of the coastal ridge and began his way down to meet the checkpoint. On and on it stretched into the distance, disappearing from sight as it trailed off over the ocean. It supposedly continued for roughly 2000 miles total. He couldn't fathom the amount of time and effort that had gone into its construction untold ages ago. But then, if the Gardens had been possible to create, virtually anything was.

As he drew closer to the terminal, its barren rails long devoid of any carriages since the outbreak of the Sorceress War, he was surprised to see just how derelict it actually was. He furrowed his brow against the whipping wind. He'd been expecting at least some measure of security. From what he could see however, the station was well and truly abandoned; there were no guards out and about, nor vehicles parked anywhere around its perimeter. It perplexed him, until he recalled the standoff at Fisherman's Horizon three months ago. Perhaps they'd deemed their presence on the west end redundant in lieu of pushing their forces to the center of the bridge, or had simply wanted all the manpower they could scrounge up for the takeover. Whatever the case, it was one less obstacle for him to contend with on the way into Esthar. He cut through onto the tracks and started across, his tires threading the divide running between both rail lines.

For hours longer he threaded the needle straight down the middle of the bridge. To either side of the parallel tracks loomed a steep drop to the open sea; no guardrail had been erected, nor anything but a beveled curb barely a foot high between each successive bulge from the tops of the bridge's support pillars. He kept his eyes fixed to the margin in between, ample enough for him to drift but slightly. His bike's shadow soon began growing longer in front of him, as the sun continued to dip lower behind his back. The further he progressed east, the quicker night would fall. He'd set out early that morning hoping to reach Fisherman's Horizon before dark, whereby he might get a proper night's rest at the town inn. That was now an impossibility given the time he'd spent crossing the continent. Furthermore, his eyes were becoming bleary from lack of sleep. Regardless of his headlights, he wouldn't be able to keep his current pace up much longer.

And so, as twilight began to settle in, he finally slowed down and pulled off to one side of the bridge. Detaching Rinoa from the harness, he set her and the bike up against the same dome-shaped top of the nearest support beam, and slipped the pack with Edea's produce off her back. However exhausted he was, he needed something to eat first. He seated himself on the lip just beside, unzipped the backpack, and pulled out a water bottle and a pair of tomatoes. He started to extend one to Rinoa, when he stopped in mid motion.

"Oh… yeah," he embarrassingly said aloud as he returned the fruit to the pack. "Sorry."

Clearly, the lack of sleep was making him delirious. Or perhaps it was some faint inkling of hope that she still might wake up on her own. Her limp, frail body still showed no signs of life. Without any means of feeding her intravenously, he knew her physical degradation would only continue to accelerate by the day. Speed was of the essence. In the meantime however, there was his own hunger to attend to. He bit into the tomato, savoring its ripeness as the excess juice began to trickle down his chin.

"It's a real shame," he spoke to Rinoa again, not caring if he got a response back. "You don't know what you're missing."

Indeed, Edea's fresh produce was delectable. Its flavor was almost enough to draw out those long forgotten memories of his youth from the depths of his subconscious. But for however savory it was, the guilt of having stolen it from her garden left a terrible aftertaste in his mouth. Compounding his shame was the thought of how his friends were presently taking his desertion.

"Everyone must know we're gone by now. They're probably furious."

He could perfectly picture just how disgusted Quistis must have been. Neither did it take much imagination to conjure up an enraged Zell throwing wild punches at his bag, or Selphie's already deflated spirits taking a turn for the worse. Irvine was the wild card among them; his reaction could have landed anywhere from frustration to disbelieving laughter. And although he took Reiner at his word, he dreaded to know what Edea or Cid might think of his actions. But even their disappointment weighing him down was nothing compared to what Xu would have said to him were she still alive. He'd willingly forsaken the position she'd put her trust in him to uphold with her dying breath. However noble his intentions, he knew he deserved every ounce of their collective vitriol.

"What about you?" he asked as he finished off the last of the tomato, wiping his chin. "Are you going to hold this against me too when it's all over?"

There was every possibility Rinoa would. Still, his mind was made up. Even were she to miraculously awaken at that very moment, his resolve to make it to Esthar was absolute, for Ellone's sake if not hers.

"To tell you the truth… I worry too much about what others think of me."

Simply admitting it out loud required he chase it down with a gulp of water. He did so, and promptly stashed the bottle back in the bag, swapping it for a carrot. He bit into it, carefully mulling over his thoughts as he chewed.

"I can't help it," he went on. "And I can't stand it, either. I've always hated that side of me. That's why I never wanted anyone to get to know me. It made things easier to let people have the perception that Squall is just this unfriendly, introverted guy."

And it had served its purpose for many years. Willingly, he'd sacrificed any chance at forming meaningful connections with others for the sake of protecting his own ego. He'd never dared admit it, often times even to himself. Were Rinoa conscious, he wasn't sure he'd have even had the courage to do so now. And yet, given all they'd been through, all the moments they'd shared together, there was no other person he would rather bear his soul to. Against his better judgment, he found himself hoping she was somehow able to hear him.

"That's a secret between you and me, got it?"

Predictably, she still said nothing. She lay there limply, her head drooping down over one shoulder. As the sun continued to set in the west, its rays gleaming upon the water on both sides of the bridge, he wondered if her cadet uniform would be up to the task of keeping her sufficiently warm. She would need all he could give her in lieu of how much body mass she'd lost. And so, after finishing his carrot, he stood up, crossed over, and removed his jacket to drape it across her figure. He would be fine without it for the time being; he did not intend to spend a full night on the bridge before he got moving again.

As he did so, his eyes landed on the thin chain hung around her neck. He pulled it upward in one hand, bringing with it his lion ring still wound through. In all the time since she'd fallen into a coma, never once had the thought crossed his mind to take it back from her. Neither could he bring himself to do so now. He let the necklace slip from his fingers and back down atop her chest as he finally lowered the makeshift blanket over her.

"We'll make it through this, Rinoa," he promised as he sat beside her and laid his own head back. "I know we will."

Despite having no bed, his sheer tiredness ensured him at least several hours of uninterrupted sleep. He awoke at just past eleven, by which point he figured there was little use in dawdling. By the piercing beams of the motorcycle's headlights, he re-set Rinoa in the harness and started off down the bridge again. The pitch black void stretched out all around. For a time, nothing existed to him but the never-ending procession of railroad tracks he zoomed between, leading him on and on into the abyss.

Eventually, more lights slowly came into view in the distance. They trailed down and off the north edge of the bridge, guiding the way into Fisherman's Horizon just beside. He could make out little beyond the lip of the concave solar array. To his relief however, he saw no signs of Galbadia having retaken the settlement in SeeD's absence. Satisfied, he felt any further detour would be meaningless, and perhaps even unwelcome given the early morning hour he'd arrived at. He instead continued straight ahead through the long abandoned waystation at the town's height. A feeling of accomplishment swept over him as he emerged on the other side. He was officially past the halfway point.

His tear down the length of the bridge's eastern half flew by in a blur. Gradually, dawn began to peek over the horizon before him, extending his field of vision beyond his headlights. Nevertheless, he continued to keep his eyes trained forward and down to the space between the rails; the sun's intensifying glare as it rose up practically right in front of him necessitated it. He stopped only whenever the fuel light beside the speedometer blinked on, sometimes affording himself a quick snack in the process. The moment the tank was topped off again, it was back to full speed ahead as usual.

Time soon lost all meaning to him. He'd stopped bothering to check his watch with how hopelessly out of synch with the current time zone it now was. His rear had long gone numb, as had his arms grown weary from holding so tightly to the handlebars. The sun, though eventually rising high enough to where it was no longer in his eyes, beat down on him mercilessly. His only saving grace for the trip thus far was the absence of a strong crosswind. None of it made any difference to him. He'd come too far to even think of turning back now.

It can't be much further…

He finally caught sight of land by mid-afternoon. There, far off in the distance, rose the nearest mountain peaks lining Esthar's west coast. Directly ahead stood the terminal. As he drew closer, he could tell there had been no maintenance supplied to its rusted, decrepit facade in the years since the war. The piled-up remains of decommissioned rail cars sat off to the other side of the tracks. Straight down the center, beyond the line's end, stretched a short span of desolate, rocky terrain. It gradually sloped downward between the neighboring mountains. Although Squall had never before set foot on Estharian soil, he knew full well what lay beyond.

Just as with Dollet, the nation's geographical position had provided a perfect natural impediment by which to keep itself safeguarded from invasion. There were of course the tall peaks trailing for untold miles in either direction; they were at least as tall as the Hasberry Mountains, and no less treacherous to surmount. The range split off in the middle, giving way to the mouth of the Great Salt Lake, the body of which continued further north along the continent. It had been a renowned, picturesque national reserve, as photographs from long ago could attest. A ferry had once run back and forth, shuttling freshly arrived tourists from the railway into the capital city on the other side. Those days were no more.

The once beautiful lake had dried up completely in the wake of Esthar's rampant weapons testing at the height of the war. As Squall drifted to a halt on the edge of a rocky outcropping overlooking the decline, he could see for himself the lasting effects. Countless jagged, uneven plateaus protruded up from the bottom of the resultant gorge. The labyrinthine crevices snaking between, though wide enough for him to forge on foot, looked too cragged for his motorcycle to take them much further. All was coated in a thick layer of salt; one could have easily mistaken it for snow if not for the balmy temperature. The sight alone was enough to make Squall's mouth parched.

"You'd think they could have rolled out the welcome wagon for us," he finally grunted to Rinoa.

Ellone had given him her word that they'd be taken in at the border, yet the station had been left unattended. Even now, with another more careful look over the lay of the land before him, he saw no sign of a party standing by to greet them before their descent into such inhospitable terrain.

More disconcerting still was the absence of civilization beyond. In every picture of the lake's mouth he'd ever seen in his studies, the capital city had always been clearly visible from the western shoreline. And yet, from his current position, he could see absolutely nothing beyond. He squinted his eyes as hard as he could, fighting to spot even a glimmer of its shimmering metal skyline in the sunlight. It was no use; the barren wasteland appeared to simply stretch on and on without end. It made no sense to him. Still, he was determined to cross it.

He kicked the motorcycle back into gear, and started down the nearby slope into the basin. He kept his speed down; uniform as the slope appeared given the distribution of salt, it would be foolish not to expect divots underneath. Predictably, it was a bumpy journey to the bottom. The closer he drew, the more clearly he could see smaller, slender, yet equally jagged protrusions sticking up from beneath all around. It occurred to him that they were likely the skeletal remains of whatever marine creatures had once lived in the lake. The brittle crunch as his tires plowed right over those in his way only strengthened the hunch.

As he reached the first significant threshold of terraformed earth, it became clear he would be forced to proceed further inward on foot. He killed the bike's ignition before maneuvering himself off along with Rinoa in the harness. He hunched forward, prompting her body to drape across his back, took hold of her thighs under each arm, and started forward. He stopped dead in his tracks as he prepared to step into the vast saltine labyrinth. His eyes bulged as they scanned the frosted earth before him.

There were clear human footprints in the salt. Judging by their varying size and positioning, he could assume there were at least two sets. Determining how fresh they were was another matter entirely; that they hadn't yet faded implied them to be recent, and yet the lack of a significant cross-breeze below sea level meant they could have been more than several days old. Regardless, their presence meant one thing for certain: he was not alone.

At least it's something to follow.

Wherever the tracks might lead him, he knew it was a better alternative than fumbling around in the maze without a clear heading. He put his eyes to the ground, and set off in search of their source.

So he trekked on for several hours. Rinoa's weight hanging off him was anything but a comfortable load to bear, whether in a literal or metaphorical sense. Each uphill slope he met was all the more of a struggle to climb. Even worse, carrying her left him unsettlingly vulnerable. He would never be able to draw his gunblade fast enough in the event of an ambush, much less use it effectively. The best he could manage was to engage his GF sphere on his belt, and keep his eyes peeled around every corner.

His anxiety subsided as he came to understand how unlikely it was he would run across any form of wildlife. Dry and smothered in salt as it was, the lake's ecosystem had become completely uninhabitable. Plenty more bones of assorted smaller fish littered the winding trails every so often. More intimidating still was the full skeleton of a gargantuan, whale-like creature he soon passed; its splayed open rib-cage lay draped across a stout hill of salted earth, its toothy maw slumped down on the ground just before. The sheer desolation surrounding him was unprecedented. Not even the wastelands of Centra could compare. Death was the only constant along the path the footsteps led him, and perhaps would even be what he found waiting for him at their end.

Dusk soon began to fall. Understanding he would be at a loss trying to navigate the lake's wide expanse in the dark, Squall finally settled on a depressed flat clearing as a spot to make camp for the night. He unbuckled Rinoa from the harness, and gently sat her down against the side of one of the surrounding plateaus. He then set about scavenging as many nearby bones as he could carry; most snapped off easily enough from their dehydrated carcasses. Being so brittle and dried out, they would be just right to serve as kindling. He clustered the bones together in the center, and with a quick spell conjuration, set them alight.

Keeping him and Rinoa warm for the night was only one motivation for the campfire. Provided whoever had left the footprints was still in the area, it ought to attract their attention. There was even a chance it might tip off Esthar, and prompt them to send out a search party to take them into the city. Whatever the case, he would need to stay vigilant through the night. There would be no opportunity for him to get any sound sleep. It would be difficult given how little he was already running on, but he was prepared. At the very least, provided no one came, he expected he would reach the other side of the lake sometime next morning.

He hunkered down beside Rinoa as he dug into his food supply again. He stared absentmindedly into the flickering fire as he ate, reflecting on the times when they'd both stood around one just like it in the training center. However much he'd scoffed at the prospect of teaching her the basics of GF control, she'd put in the work without any complaints. The results spoke for themselves: she'd gone from a light sprinkle of water droplets to summoning the leviathan in only a month's time, and even managed some wind spellcraft to boot. She'd progressed at an astoundingly quick rate, perhaps even too much so.

Maybe it's my fault…

It was possible he'd pushed her too hard. While it had only been for the weeks before they'd crashed into Fisherman's Horizon, her daily training regimen had been more dense and concentrated than it was for most freshly certified students. There was no telling just how rigorously she'd taken things on her own after his promotion. Still, he did not regret having set her on that path. Those memories were already among his most cherished, along with their meeting the night of the graduation ball, and the Garden Festival. The more he thought it over, the more he came to realize just how much his life had come to revolve around her, even before he'd set out on his quest.

"There's a lot of things I'd do differently if I had the chance," Squall finally spoke to her by his side. "But with us… I wouldn't change a thing. Again, that's just between us."

The fire notwithstanding, his face had become uncomfortably flush. He promptly stood up and stepped away from her, realizing it was as good a time as any to gather more kindling. Armed with his flashlight, he dipped out of the clearing to scour for bones. No matter how far he distanced himself however, the embarrassment lingered. His old self of just a few months ago would have retched at what a sentimental sap he'd become. He could feel a palpable revulsion bubbling up from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where he was now determined to leave that person forever.

I don't care what you think. I don't need you anymore…

His internal struggle was suddenly relegated to an afterthought as he glanced up from the trail. His tongue caught in his throat. The rhythmically bobbing glow of another flashlight shone on a salt pillar further up ahead. Its shrinking radius told him whoever carried it was drawing closer. Clearly, his signal had attracted their attention. Whether friendly or hostile, he wasn't prepared to risk letting himself be caught off guard. He clicked off his own flashlight, and hastily retraced his steps back to the campsite. He ducked around the plateau opposite Rinoa, pressing his back up against its side. As soon as the person turned the corner, he would be ready.

The torch's glow swept away the shadows from the campfire as it approached. Footsteps followed; their irregular crunching on the salt told Squall there was more than one person. He held his breath. Moments later, two silhouettes emerged from around the bend, one tall and one short. Both wore bulky packs strapped to their backs. It was nearly impossible for him to discern anything more amid the shadows. All he could tell for certain was that the larger of the two was armed; he carried a pair of lengthy rods slung over one shoulder. The smaller held the flashlight, its glow flitting all around the camp before focusing on Rinoa's limp body. Squall took it as his cue to jump into action. He stepped out from cover and lit them up with his own flashlight.

"Freeze!" he yelled.

The two of them spun around. As they stood before him, gawking like deer caught in headlights, Squall couldn't help but do the same. These were neither scavengers nor Esthar border patrol. He knew exactly who they were, for that matter.

"Squall?" Fujin said his name.

"Hey, it's us, y'know?" Raijin said as he raised his arms.

Squall stood motionless. He stared them down for several moments before his brain finally kicked back on. Of everyone he might have expected to run across in his journey to Esthar, these two were among the last.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" he asked, not lowering his flashlight.

"Lookin' for Seifer," Raijin explained. "That why you're here, too?"

"What?"

The response gave him pause. He had no clue just where to take his line of questioning next. There were plenty of avenues to choose from. How did they know Seifer was in the region? For what reason were they searching for him? Had they reneged on the promise they'd made to him and his friends in Balamb? And provided that they had, would he be right to consider them an immediate threat? Rinoa's vulnerable condition left him scant leeway to afford taking any risks.

"Confused?" Fujin asked.

"It sounds like we've got some catching up to do," Squall suggested. He finally clicked off his flashlight and gestured to the campfire. "Have a seat, and we'll talk it over."

The two nodded in agreement. He watched their movements carefully as they trailed over to the side of the clearing to deposit what items they carried. Fujin let the hefty backpack she wore slide off her arms, and dropped it on the ground. Now illuminated by the fire, Squall could properly make out the protruding effects Raijin carried with him: one was predictably his fighting staff, and the other a fishing rod. He set them down along with his own pack not far from Rinoa.

"Dead?" Fujin bluntly suggested as she gave her frail body a look over.

"No!" Squall snapped.

His voice rang out loudly within the enclosure, echoing up into the night sky. That the two had visibly flinched at the outburst spoke louder still. He couldn't help it; a virulent mixture of rage and disgust had welled up inside him at the thought alone. He momentarily shut his eyelids and took a deep breath to recompose himself.

"Well, she sure ain't lookin' good, y'know?" Raijin said. "You guys been eatin' alright?"

"It's a long story," Squall deflected. Willing his temper to calm itself, he sat down beside her again, and motioned for him and Fujin to take a seat opposite. "You first. What's going on? Why are you looking for Seifer?"

"Duty," Fujin spoke as she lowered herself to rest on her knees.

"You said it was up to us to talk him outta all this, y'know?" Raijin reminded him. He sat down cross-legged beside his companion with their backs to the fire. "Well, that's what we decided we were gonna do as soon as we left Balamb. We pulled the troops back to Timber like you said, an' then got a train to the capital. That's when we heard Galbadia Garden was headin' up through Trabia on the way to Esthar. There's no way we were gonna jus' sit around an' wait for him to get back, y'know? So, we figured, let's head on over the bridge an' try to meet him the other side."

"All by yourselves?" Squall asked. Putting aside that he'd just done the same, it was unclear how they'd planned to make any headway into Esthar once they'd made it over. He at least already had a foot in the door thanks to Ellone. They had nothing of the sort.

"Grueling," Fujin said.

"Yeah, it wasn't no walk in the park, y'know? Had to spend all the money we had on supplies an' fresh water. We were flat broke by the time we even made it to the bridge. Never mind a rental, we didn't even have enough for gas. So, we hoofed it here. Took us more than two months to make it across. It was rough, havin' to fish off the bridge every day for dinner. Sometimes we jus' had to go without, y'know? At least those folks livin' out there in the middle let us fill all our bottles back up. We got here a couple nights ago. What about you? Where's the rest o' your gang?"

Squall took a deep breath as he prepared to recount all he'd been through in the time since. There was so much he knew he couldn't hope to explain adequately. Edea's possession sat at the very top of the list; how could these two possibly comprehend such a thing, much less accept it? And so, as he proceeded to summarize the Battle of the Gardens for them, he made sure to skirt around it. He instead kept his focus on Seifer's retreat due east with what forces had been able to follow after.

"Cyclists," Fujin suddenly blurted out, turning her eye to Raijin.

"Yeah, gotta be," he said back.

"I'm sorry?" Squall furrowed his brow in confusion.

"A couple weeks back, when we were still on the bridge, a couple o' Galbadian motorcycles came speedin' at us. We tried to flag 'em down, but they just blew past. Least it tipped us off that we were headin' the right way."

"So, you really think he's in the area?" Squall concluded.

"Certain," Fujin said.

"Where else could those guys've come from, y'know?" Raijin insisted. "Thing is, we're kinda lost. There ain't no way further forward, far as we can tell. Got to this huge cliff-side before we had to turn around. We were about to start pushin' up north when we saw the smoke from your fire."

"A cliff-side?" Squall repeated. "That's it? You didn't see any way into Esthar?"

"We woulda taken it if there was, y'know? Nothin' there but a vertical drop straight down."

A feeling of dread came over him. Were the lake truly impassible by foot, there would be no time to search for an alternate route. He couldn't imagine Rinoa's malnourished body lasting longer than three days without any sustenance.

"Well, we're going to take another look in the morning," he declared. "I've got to make it into Esthar, ASAP. For her sake."

He proceeded to relay the details of Rinoa's coma to them, and of his subsequent journey to find Ellone, which in turn necessitated he explain the nature of her mysterious power to them as best he could. However hard it would be for them to take at face value, he hoped they would be willing to go along with it. The sorceress wouldn't have been so hell-bent on finding her for no reason, after all.

"Baffling," Fujin sighed.

"I'm not really gettin' it all either, y'know?" Raijin moaned. "But if you're sayin' she's in Esthar right now, then I guess that explains what Seifer's doin' out here."

Squall admittedly hadn't given Seifer's motive much thought since he'd fled the battle. With their forces decimated, and without Ultimecia's presence to keep them in line, he'd assumed the troops would have broken rank quickly. Even provided they hadn't, there was no telling how they intended to break through the country's defenses without Galbadia Garden. Ellone hadn't mentioned anything to him about the enemy's forces moving in, ergo she was still safely out of their reach. There was no guarantee it would remain so indefinitely, however. The cyclists Fujin and Raijin saw had likely been sent back over to call for reinforcements.

"Then we'd better get to her first," he said to the pair. He removed his jacket once again to drape it over Rinoa for the night. "For now, let's get some rest. We set out at first light, understood?"

"Affirmative," Fujin saluted.

"Sounds good," Raijin agreed. "But we gotta have some dinner first, y'know? We still got a few fish left to cook. You want some?"

"I've already eaten," he politely declined.

"Alright, suit yourself. An' I know it all seems pretty dead around here, but… I'm still thinkin' we oughta be keepin' a lookout, y'know? We'll take the first couple shifts if you want."

Squall appreciated their thoughtful gesture, and made no argument against it. Better still, they had bedrolls strapped to their packs. Raijin offered him his to use for the duration of his and Fujin's shifts. He'd taken it without a second thought, leaping at the prospect of a proper night's sleep. And indeed, it was a sound one. No matter the meager accommodations, he slept like a log until finally being awakened for his turn. It was only natural; the prior evening's sleep had been entirely insufficient. But then, perhaps it was the knowledge that someone was watching out for him which made the biggest difference. Only two days since leaving his friends behind, he already understood how much he'd taken their company for granted in the field.

They were off the next morning as soon as there was enough light by which to see the ground in front of them. Fujin and Raijin led the way along the eastern end of the salt lake, Squall bringing up the rear with Rinoa. The further they progressed, the more his nerves came to relax. Besides the continued absence of wildlife, there was a sense of relief in letting himself take the backseat for a change. The standards expected of him as commandant, or even as a squad leader had been a constant struggle for him to live up to. Now, for perhaps the first time since the Dollet siege, he felt at leisure to let himself fall in line with the group. He was an ordinary soldier again, honor-bound to his comrades in a more comfortable capacity. Even so, his feelings on the matter were undeniably different than they'd been during the field exam. That the term comfort even crossed his mind in relation to working with others was proof enough.

The jagged earth began to even out as they reached the base of a wide, uniformly steep incline. It looked much the same as the one he'd descended on the lake's west end. Up and up they climbed, Squall fighting to keep balanced with Rinoa on his back. Provided they had indeed reached the other side, the city ought to have been a stone's throw from the summit. But of course, he knew it couldn't be so simple. He already knew exactly what to expect once they reached the top. All the same, the knowledge did nothing to soften the blow once they finally did.

The salt flats trailed on for miles into the distance. They stretched out from far below, at the bottom of a cliff easily 100 feet high. He could see no way down. More worrying still, he could see nothing of the city ahead, nor any trace of civilization at all. It was as if they stood on the very edge of the world, where all life ceased to be.

"Y'see?" Raijin piped up from his side. "Even if we could make it down, there ain't nothin' out there, y'know?"

"Endless," Fujin stated.

As Squall craned his neck due north and south, he understood they were right. The cliff-side ran in either direction to meet the neighboring mountains, which in turn extended into the wasteland a long ways until they began wrapping back outwards. With a glimpse behind, he saw for himself the laudable amount of ground he and the others had already covered. Their current vantage point gave him an overview of the lake's mouth no less sweeping than it had been from the other side. By any reasonable inference, they had successfully crossed over. The capital's outskirts should have stood in the center just ahead of them. And yet, there was absolutely nothing.

I don't believe this…

He fell to his knees, letting Rinoa's limp body in the harness slide down his back. The disappointment was all-encompassing, soul-crushing even. He'd traveled so long and hard, pressing further east than virtually anyone else had dared in the last 17 years, only to reach a dead end. Raijin was right; even if they did find a way down somewhere along the line, they would never manage to ford the immense salt flats before them, much less before Rinoa withered away. His despair gave way to uncontrollable rage at the thought of how futile his journey had been. Barely thinking, he grit his teeth, reached for the nearest rock lying on the ground around him, and roared as he chucked it with all his might at the edge of the cliff.

And then, in a flash, his anger fizzled out on the spot. In its place was confusion. He couldn't believe his eyes; surely he had to be hallucinating. Fujin and Raijin's reactions were all that convinced him otherwise.

"Deflected?"

"The hell?"

Somehow, the rock had bounced back. Rather than soaring over the edge to the wastes below, it sat idly on the lip of the precipice. The anomaly was enough to get Squall back on his feet. He picked himself and Rinoa up, and strode forward to investigate. He reached out with one hand into the open air just beyond the cliff-side. Immediately, he met resistance; a solid, invisible partition had been erected. He ran his palm all across its surface, coming to realize it must have spanned the entire divide between the mountains. It was fundamentally no different than both times Ultimecia had formed a barrier to hold him back. This time however, he was certain the means involved no form of spellcraft.

"It's… a hologram," he finally exhaled.

"For real?!" Raijin spluttered.

Eager to prove his theory, Squall reached for his gunblade. He unsheathed the weapon from its scabbard, drew it back parallel to the ground, and thrust it forward. With a pull of the trigger, the blade pierced into the invisible wall with a loud metal screech. Sparks abruptly dispersed from the indent as he pulled the sword free. What remained was a sliver of exposed circuitry, perpetually floating in mid-air.

"Impressive," Fujin remarked.

He concurred; the panoramic display was remarkably life-like, and had very nearly broken his will to go on. Now exposed for the facade it was, he felt his determination come rushing back to him all at once.

"Well, come on," he commanded them. "Let's figure out how we're going to break through."

"Leave it to me," Raijin volunteered. He reached into a pocket on his vest, and withdrew a silver sphere clasped in his hand. "Might wanna take a few steps back, y'know?"

Squall hastily obeyed as the light aura began to radiate from his body. He and Fujin backed down the decline to the lake but slightly, to where they could both peek their eyes just over the rim. The energy surrounding Raijin continued to intensify, until he finally cast it forward. Yet another concentrated crackle of electricity surged out from the ether as the creature's form took shape. Though vaguely humanoid at first glance, the voluminous appendages which extended from either side resembled wings more than arms. With a burst of light, it appeared.

Its body was gleaming yellow from head to toe, with several swirling dark green markings trailing across like tattoos. Although it indeed possessed two long, thick wings, there was no trace of feathers; its shimmering flesh looked remarkably smooth to touch, almost like a dolphin's. Its elongated head likewise might have resembled a bird's, were there any beak. It appeared to have no mouth at all, for that matter. He barely had enough time to give it a proper look over before a blast of lightning shot from its face.

The bolts tore straight into the invisible wall. Almost immediately, the picture began to distort as the circuits shorted out. It flickered wildly before degenerating to static. The glare soon became too bright for Squall to comfortably focus on, forcing him to fully duck down behind the basin's lip. Fujin followed suit, hunkering herself down against the salted rock. The explosion came moments later. He waited until the flash of light signaling the GF's dissolution came before peeking back over.

Raijin stood motionless before a gaping hole in the formerly invisible partition. Elsewhere, the illusion persisted up and down the length of the divide; it was as if a tear in the fabric of the world itself had opened up. Jagged metal and sparking wires protruded from all around the hole's circumference. Wherever it led, Squall couldn't tell; the other side was too dark to make out.

"Success!" Fujin cried out, startling him. She re-surmounted the ridge to stand beside her partner.

"Nice work," Squall bluntly said as he did the same.

"It's nothin', y'know?" Raijin downplayed his efforts. He stowed the sphere back in his vest's pocket and motioned forward. "C'mon! Let's head on through!"

Squall nodded in agreement. He took the lead, ready to clear away the debris with his gunblade to allow them easier passage. Just swinging it took so much more effort with Rinoa still strapped to his back. But then, he wouldn't dream of letting her get snagged on a stray piece of metal or glass. Once the way was clear, he let Fujin take point.

The barrier's interior was hollow beyond the thick layer of reinforced steel Raijin's summon had torn through, and exceedingly vast. Even as Fujin's flashlight darted all around, it was nearly impossible to get their bearings. The ceiling stretched up into a seemingly never-ending abyss, as did the routes leading north and south along the lake. The floor was cold metal plating, with several ingrained air vents spaced evenly apart from one another. If there was a door on the other side from them, he couldn't yet see it; the flashlight's glow could only reach so far.

"Forward?" Fujin asked.

"That's the idea," Squall responded. "At this point nothing's going to surprise me."

He strode forward into the unknown with purpose in every step. On the fifth, a blaring alarm suddenly erupted. He jumped in place as it echoed through the wide enclosure, nearly losing his grip on his gunblade.

"What the hell's goin' on?!" Raijin roared over the siren.

Fujin's light darted all around. Squall tracked its movements beat for beat, on guard for whatever might emerge from the shadows. Esthar clearly knew they were there. A confrontation, though unnecessary were he given a chance to explain his business, might be imminent. It then occurred to him that a retreat back outside might be a better strategy; besides improved visibility, the narrow gap in the wall would limit how many soldiers could pass through at once. Yet as he turned back around, he saw to his horror that the daylight shining through was shrinking.

"The door!" he yelled.

Fujin spun around just in time to light up the sturdy metal barricade ascending from the floor, blocking off their only chance of escape. As she pivoted to either side, Squall could see two more rising to box them in. Raijin screamed something unintelligible before taking the same stance he had outside; it looked like he was intent on blowing open another hole. Before he could call forth the energy however, a pressurized hissing at Squall's feet redirected his attention. It was then that he noticed the wispy clouds of gas rising up all around them, caught in the flashlight's glare. One careless inhale was all it took.

The dizziness came on immediately. His gunblade fell from his grasp. And then, he to his knees. He barely managed to throw out his hands to keep himself from landing face-first on the hard metal floor, but alas, his strength was gone. He finally collapsed on his stomach, Rinoa's dead weight pinning him down, and laid there limply as his consciousness faded away.

Ellone… I'm… almost…