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Chapter Text

PROLOGUE: TRANSGRESSION

Ragnarok led an army ten thousand strong. Warriors from every corner of the world, riding on the backs of chocobos. War machines that could lay waste to a city. Beasts with their masters, from the mighty adamantoises to the nimble wyverns, marching ever forward toward their destination. 

Cocoon. The ever-present sphere of hatred that marred the sky, casting its shadow on the lands below. This was the day they would tear Lindzei’s foul nest of vipers out of the heavens.

And from it, those vipers did fly. Terrible airships that rained death from the sky, faceless soldiers with weapons that spat forth neverending streams of bullets. Beams of light that could split the earth.

They clashed, and the screams of war filled the air. Forever at Ragnarok’s side, the woman with the eyes of a child looked on, the healer with no one left to heal. Only death and destruction remained, with even her beloved consumed by the bloodlust. So she too, would kill.

Ragnarok launched into the air, rocketing toward Cocoon and slamming into it with enough force to crack its mighty crystal shell. The shockwave tore through the cities and lands contained within, tsunamis spreading forth across its oceans, leaving nothing unscathed.

Thousands upon thousands were dying on both sides, and still the Goddess Etro could do nothing but watch, and wait, from Her lonely throne in Valhalla, as Her beloved human race tore itself apart.

This is what Her brother gods had wrought, even as they called Her ‘Fool,’ and She could stand to watch no more. She reached Her divine hands down from Valhalla, stilling the hearts first of Ragnarok, then of the woman with the eyes of a child, for you could not have one without the other.

Would that it had been enough in time, however. The war did cease, but fires raged across the land, and a fine crystal dust had settled in to choke the inhabitants. From the great city of Paddra to the vast Archylte Steppe, people turned to monsters, cursed by the very beings they worshipped.

Etro could only weep, for Gran Pulse was hell on earth.

ONE

Nearly five hundred years later, it was a perfectly calm, peaceful day in Cocoon. Waterfalls poured down from the top of a gorge, and a flock of birds took flight suddenly as an Aerorail train whooshed by on the formerly abandoned trackway, trees blowing in the wind as it passed.

The mood on board, however, couldn’t be more tense. Sazh Katzroy shifted silently in his seat, his eyes shifting across the rows of silent passengers, all handcuffed and clad in the same hooded white robes, marked as exiles.

“You serious?” he asked.

“Be quiet!” whispered his seatmate sharply.

“Best of luck,” he muttered. He knew very little about her, only that she called herself Lightning, and until that morning, had been a soldier for the Sanctum—the same government that had ordered everyone in the quarantine zone be Purged, exiled from the safety of Cocoon to fend for themselves in the wilds of Pulse that lay below.

Like him, however, she was on the train by choice, although he couldn’t begin to guess why. Not that he was about to share his own reasons, of course. He didn’t trust anyone in the Sanctum anymore.

The door between train cars hissed open, and a heavily armored soldier strutted in, his helmeted face staring down the aisle as if expecting trouble. The laser sight from his SMG flashed between the seats, and Sazh froze momentarily as it paused a moment on him, then on Lightning. She didn’t flinch, however, appearing completely calm as he walked past.

The next instant, the train shuddered as it passed through the security force field that surrounded the Hanging Edge, an ancient metropolis that had been abandoned centuries ago after Cocoon’s shell had been damaged by invading forces from Pulse.

In the split-second it took the soldier to regain his balance, though, Lightning had already lived up to her name. She leapt out of her seat, kicking his legs out from under him and grabbing hold of the gun with her still-cuffed hands in one fluid motion. Bullets pelted the ceiling as she wrestled it out of his grasp, striking him with the barrel hard enough to knock him unconscious.

A small remote clattered to the floor, and Lightning stomped on it, releasing the locks on the prisoners’ handcuffs throughout the entire train.

“She did it!” exclaimed Sazh, amazed that her plan had actually worked.

Instantly, however, the door opened once more, and two more soldiers came charging in, guns drawn.

“Freeze!” shouted one, but Lightning again proved too quick for them.

She mercilessly gunned him down, leaping out of the way as the other one returned fire. Her Purge robe was riddled with holes, but it had already fallen from her shoulders as she activated her gravity-controlling AMP device. She floated briefly in midair, then rocketed toward him boot first, slamming him into the door and snapping his neck.

Sazh could only watch in astonishment as she picked up his gun, opened the door into the soldiers’ car, and fired another volley before they could even react.

“Hmph,” she muttered expressionlessly.

Sazh was more than a little scared of her, but he was quite glad she was on their side. He turned to the other newly freed prisoners, hapless civilians all who simply had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He noticed one young boy cowering in the corner, rightfully terrified for his life.

“Hey, you all right?” he asked, placing his hand gently on the child’s shoulder. “I’m not a l’Cie,” he reassured.

The boy balked, but calmed down slightly as the small chocobo chick that nested in Sazh’s curly hair poked its tiny face out as if to let him know all was well.

In all likelihood, no one in the entire quarantine would actually turn out to have been one of the dreaded l’Cie, magical servants of the unfathomably powerful godlike beings known as fal’Cie.

Fal’Cie were everywhere on Cocoon, they had built it, and they kept it running; a utopian paradise where humanity could flourish. But the fal’Cie that had been discovered lying dormant just outside the seaside resort of Bodhum two weeks ago was different. It was from Pulse, and had been sleeping for five hundred years, unknown to even the Sanctum as residents and tourists alike had frolicked in its shadow.

Something, however, had caused it to awaken, and the city had been placed in lockdown almost immediately. Thousands of residents, and thousands more visitors that had come for the annual fireworks festival, all with the potential to be sleeper agents doing the bidding of an uncaring demigod bent on Cocoon’s destruction.

So said the Sanctum, anyway, and paranoia about Pulse ran deep. Even a skeptic like Sazh would have believed it without a second thought, were it not for his own experiences.

Lightning, meanwhile, continued to clear a path to the train’s exit door, retrieving her special hybrid gunblade, the Blazefire Saber, from a case of confiscated personal effects.

“So far so good,” said Sazh as he caught up to her, a group of able-bodied prisoners behind him carrying pilfered weapons. “They all wanna fight!”

“Good for them,” said Lightning coldly, sliding open the train door and peering outside. She was so single-minded in her determination, however, that Sazh started to worry what her end goal truly was. Something important enough to throw her career and potentially her life away for, certainly.

She scanned the scene outside as the train left a tunnel and entered the abandoned city, the floating trackway ahead meandering between huge buildings suspended in midair, all bathed in an eerie green glow from underneath. A ceiling of solid rock walled this area off from the rest of Cocoon, hiding gleaming spires and domes that hadn’t seen Phoenix’s light for five hundred years.

There was little time to take in the scenery, however, as a squadron of Sanctum fighter planes roared overhead, guns already firing. Behind them flew an even worse threat, however. A mechanized wyvern: a bioengineered and cybernetically enhanced monstrosity that bore little resemblance to its wild cousins, completely under Sanctum control.

“Give me that,” she said, roughly grabbing a rocket launcher out of Sazh’s hands and aiming it at the creature. She launched a salvo directly at it, but it emerged from the explosion almost completely unscathed. She fired off a second round, but it seemed to dance out of the way, swooping down toward the train and unleashing a bolt of electricity that scorched and melted the track ahead.

The entire train shuddered violently as the rear car derailed, striking a power junction at full speed and tumbling off the track with a cacophony of rending metal. The prisoners held on for dear life as the front cars careened out of control, and the roar of an engine signaled even more trouble as an Annihilator-class warmech began to hone in on their position.

Another jolt shook the train as the scorpion-like robot landed on the roof, gripping the entire car with its metal claws and firing its thrusters to bring the train to a rough halt. The walls began to cave in as the mech repeatedly struck the train with its tail.

“Run!” shouted Sazh as the ceiling began to collapse. The prisoners hurried into the next car, but Lightning instead leapt up through a hole that had appeared in the roof, seemingly intent on confronting the mech head-on. “I meant away,” he muttered. He’d seen what she was capable of with the guards, but taking on a mech the size of the entire train by herself had to be folly. He was here for a reason, though, and knew his chances of succeeding would be much higher if they stuck together. Reluctantly, he followed, climbing across the wrecked seats and out onto the roof.

As he had thought, Lightning stood facing down the mech with only her gunblade. She’s out of her mind, Sazh thought, as the great machine leapt up again and pounced on the car they stood on, knocking him off his feet. “Hey, let’s be rational now!” he cried. “They’re sending in the big guns now. What do we do?”

“Watch and learn,” grumbled Lightning, clearly unhappy that he had tagged along. The mech raised its left arm, extending a pod of electrified circular saws that it swiped toward her. In response, she nimbly flipped out of the way and sliced at the cables powering them, knocking the arm out of alignment.

“I guess we’re doing this,” Sazh muttered, pulling out his trusty twin Vega 42 guns. As a pilot, he’d been in a few scraps before across his career, recalling one time when a mechanical defect had forced him to crash-land a cargo ship in the wilderness outside Palumpolum. He’d nearly been a behemoth’s lunch that day, but he’d certainly never faced anything like this.

Thankfully, Lightning had already drawn the robot’s attention, slashing at the machine’s metal shell and dodging lasers fired from its tail. Sazh shot at its legs, getting it to rear up and expose its more vulnerable undercarriage to her attacks. In response, it shined a bright searchlight in their direction, temporarily blinding them both as it leapt back onto the previous car.

“Fall back!” shouted Lightning, grabbing Sazh’s sleeve and roughly pulling him away.

“Not so tough now, huh!” Sazh shouted, momentarily giddy as the mech wobbled, seemingly on the verge of falling.

The machine’s arms clung tightly to the train, however, clamping down with powerful magnets as it engaged its thrusters and powered up once more.

“Hey, hey, that wasn’t like a challenge now,” he said, backing away. “All right?” The engine roared as the mech began to lift the entire train off the track in response.

“Time to go!” said Lightning, running across the roof onto the next car and gracefully sliding down onto the trackway below. Sazh stumbled as the car tilted at a crazy angle, trying to pick his way down, but the mech was not going to give him enough time. “Jump!” shouted Lightning.

He quickly took a leap of faith just as the mech casually tossed the train into the abyss below, landing roughly on all fours as his pet chocobo chick fluttered out into the air, giving him an encouraging chirp.

“Heads up,” said Lightning, as it was clear the machine was not finished with them.

“This thing won’t give up, will it?” sighed Sazh as he picked himself off the hard metal trackway. In response, the mech came to a landing on the track just in front of them, powering up its spinning sawblades once more.

Lightning calmly waited as its front shell opened up to reveal a laser cannon, then thrust her sword into its inner workings, ignoring as the blast singed her hair and clothes. She jumped back, allowing Sazh to fire a barrage of bullets into the crack in its armor. It reared back, sparks flying forth from the damaged section.

One of its fuel lines had ruptured, and several panels on the side exploded with enough force to push it off the track, finally tumbling down into the darkness. Lightning stopped, peering over the edge and making sure it wasn’t on its way back, before finally relaxing.

“Oh goodness,” sighed Sazh, sitting down from the exhaustion. “We did it.” They were not, however, out of the woods, as three more fighter planes roared past, and the distant sounds of explosions and gunfire surrounded them. 

“Aren’t you supposed to, y’know, ‘protect civilians,’ soldier?” he asked, still unclear what game she was trying to play. “I mean, you are Sanctum, aren’t you? What are you doing trying to stop the Purge?”

“I was a soldier,” she simply stated, as if that explained everything, promptly taking off down the trackway trying to lose him in the chaos. This was her personal mission, and she did not want him getting in the way.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Sazh shouted, jogging to keep up. “Hm, what do you suppose this is?” he asked as they passed a circular warp portal that the army used to summon bioengineered weapons, like the wyvern that had stopped the train, onto the battlefield. 

She didn’t answer, simply vaulting across a pile of wreckage and effortlessly cutting down three soldiers that waited for her on the other side. Several more darted out from behind a power junction, however, and Sazh pulled his guns out once more.

“I guess I better help,” he muttered, sniping at the enemy from behind a chunk of concrete. He had never shot a person before, but the situation had devolved into an all-out war around them, and he did not have a very high opinion of Sanctum soldiers after the past two weeks. A bullet grazed his leg and he fell down, groaning in pain.

“Here,” said Lightning, tossing him a military-grade emergency potion and firing her gunblade at the soldier who had hit him.

“Thanks,” Sazh said, using it and standing back up. “Like it or not, I’m sticking with you,” he called out, following as she began to dart ahead once more.

She paused further ahead, hiding behind a supply crate and holding out her hand to indicate he should do the same. A single trooper stood stationed next to another warp portal.

“Not wanting to get Purged, I get,” he said. “But taking on trained soldiers?” 

“Better to die than get sent to Pulse,” Lightning said curtly. “It’s hell without the brimstone.”

Based on what every citizen of Cocoon was taught growing up, Sazh couldn’t disagree, but Lightning’s crusade still made no sense. She had deliberately boarded the train with him, yet seemed uninterested in saving the rest of the civilians, instead charging behind enemy lines toward some unknown goal.

“Yeah, well, hell’s not sounding too bad,” he remarked as the lone guard activated a control device on his wrist. Three panther-like bioweapons materialized out of the warp gate, beginning to hone in on their scent. “This place ain’t exactly paradise.”

“Domesticated peacekeepers,” said Lightning. “Nothing to worry about.” She had been on missions with the bioweapons before, and knew their weaknesses.

“Maybe not for Soldier Girl, but—hey!” he said, reaching for her arm as she ran ahead to get the drop on them. “Guess we gotta fight again.”

He quickly took out the lone human trooper as Lightning drew the beasts’ attention, but one of them turned toward him at the last second, charging at him behind her back.

“Aah!” he screamed as the creature pounced on him. Lightning whirled around, slicing into its cybernetic servos and pulling it off of him just in time.

“Thanks again,” he said, standing back up. Whatever she was up to, she was obviously the most dangerous person out here, and he was determined to stay on her good side.

She simply sighed and continued on. They continued in silence, allies of convenience fighting together without a word as Lightning continued deeper behind the Sanctum’s military lines.

Several hundred feet down the track, she froze, looking up into the air as she heard a sound. A damaged fighter streaked in from above, crashing into the track ahead of them with a fiery explosion that knocked Sazh off his feet with its shockwave.

The sound of rending metal filled the air as a section of the trackway began to collapse, sending soldiers and civilians alike tumbling to their doom. When the smoke cleared, the path ahead of them now abruptly dropped off into oblivion.

“Do we turn back?” asked Sazh.

“There’s no time,” Lightning replied, peering out at the tangle of elevated tracks and roads that lay beyond.

Time for what? he wondered, again unsure if it had been wise to follow her. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

“Quiet!” she snapped, her patience worn out. She strolled right up to the edge, looking down and calculating the distance. Another trackway ran below them, maybe thirty stories down. She snapped her fingers, activating her gravity control AMP, and floated up into the air.

She’s gonna ditch me here, Sazh realized in panic. He turned behind him, noticing another troop carrier landing only a hundred feet away. “Hey!” he shouted, running forward and grabbing onto her. “You can’t leave me here!”

She struggled in his grasp, trying to push him off. Their combined weight would overload the AMP and they would both die from the fall if he continued. “Let go!” she cried, pushing him back.

“Hell no! You’re my only way out of here!”

She didn’t have time for this. Her plan depended on staying ahead of the Sanctum’s timetable, and Sazh had slowed her down enough already. No longer holding back, she shoved him away and punched him to the ground, buying herself a few seconds as she snapped her fingers again.

The AMP gave a spark, but immediately sputtered out, its charge depleted from trying to support two people. It would be useless until it recharged, and she cursed under her breath as she checked the time.

“Hey, that might get us across,” said Sazh from behind her, pointing at the now-empty troop carrier. “Right?”

She was tired of babysitting him, but it was better than waiting for the AMP to recharge. “Looks that way,” she grumbled, and headed toward it.

Sazh followed, massaging his shoulder where she had hit him. “Ugh, this is not our lucky day,” he sighed as they climbed aboard and discovered it was not as empty as it had seemed from outside.

The soldiers had already been deployed, but their commander remained at the control terminal, clad in imposing armor and carrying a telescoping spear instead of a gun. One glance told Lightning it was outfitted with an AMP-powered manadrive that would allow him to cast basic elemental spells from it. “Deportees, are we?” he said, turning around to face them and extending the spear. “Weapons down. I’d hate for this to turn ugly.”

“Uhh, ‘turn’ ugly?” said Sazh. It had been ugly for quite some time already, and the commander was already pointing the spear at them.

“He just wants to kill us without a fight,” said Lightning, stepping in front and raising her weapon.

“Time’s up!” he shouted, charging at them as a bolt of electricity issued forth from the manadrive, arcing between Sazh and Lightning as they both keeled over in pain. 

He thrust the spear toward Lightning, but she rolled out of the way at the last second, striking his legs with her sword and staggering him as Sazh fired. In the second it took for him to regain his focus, she grabbed the spear and wrestled it out of his grasp, swinging it hard enough to knock him over the railing.

Sazh took a deep breath and climbed to his feet. “So, soldier,” he said again as he activated the control terminal. “What’s your angle?” 

Lightning sighed with frustration. She knew she’d have to tell him at some point, as he was still determined to follow her no matter what she did.

“What, is it classified military info?” asked Sazh. “What’s it matter? You quit, didn’t you? What, you think I’m gonna go out there and tell everybody your secret?”

“Fine,” she said. Maybe he did deserve to know by now. “What’s my angle? It’s the fal’Cie. I’m after the Pulse fal’Cie. Still happy you tagged along?”

Sazh stood speechless for a moment. He’d watched her take on entire platoons of soldiers, defeat a warmech effortlessly, and cut through bioweapons like butter. But to take on a fal’Cie? She had to be crazy, but what did that make him?

“Didn’t have a choice,” he finally said, powering up the engine and lifting the carrier off. They’d be allies a little longer, it seemed.

TWO

“On behalf of Cocoon’s citizens, I would like to thank our brave Pulse pioneers,” came a voice from a radio, nearly drowned out by the sound of gunfire and explosions. “We in the Sanctum express our best wishes for a successful relocation. Your noble and selfless sacrifice ensures the continued peace and safety of our society.”

“That’s Dysley for you,” said Lebreau, firing off a flare as she approached the front lines. “Spin it to win it.” Gadot was already there, crouched behind a makeshift barricade along the trackway with several civilian volunteers, exchanging gunfire with Sanctum soldiers.

They were part of NORA, an unofficial, unsanctioned militia group that had until now been content to protect their town from hostile wildlife without relying on the Sanctum’s help. That, however, was until Bodhum became ground zero for a wave of Pulse panic, and the government had ordered the Purge. Now, they were the only line of defense these people had as the military had turned the Purge into an all-out massacre.

“Were it not for this remarkable gesture,” continued Primarch Dysley’s broadcast, “every resident of Cocoon: your family, your friends, your neighbors, would be exposed to the dangers of the world below.”

Lebreau ducked into the cover of the barricade next to Gadot, joining into the firefight. None of them had ever fought soldiers before, but they were holding their own despite remarkable odds.

“By choosing to leave Cocoon, and participating in this migration,” continued the voice, cutting off abruptly as the boot of Snow Villiers, NORA’s ringleader, crushed the radio.

“Migration?” said Yuj, another NORA member who was helping Snow carry supplies. “More like extermination.” 

Whatever the Sanctum’s original orders had been, there was no denying that the army had begun using lethal force to try and wipe out the entire population. Already there had been two attempted air strikes on the civilians behind NORA’s defense line, families and children included. They had managed to repel the Sanctum forces for now, but more airships were arriving every minute.

“Yuj,” said Snow as another explosion lit up the camp. “You stay here.”

“Sorry,” he said, looking down at the ground. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s okay,” apologized Snow, shaking his head that it had come to this. “These people need heroes!” He reached out to the boy, lifting his arm up and showing him how to hold his weapon. “You keep your cool, and they will too. You got it?”

“Got it,” said Yuj nervously. Like most of the youths in NORA, he had been an orphan and a troublemaker before Snow had shown him another way. He looked back at the people he was helping protect, most of whom had been fellow citizens of Bodhum. They were his family, his friends, and his neighbors, and no matter what the Primarch said, he was going to protect them. Even if it meant fighting against the Sanctum army.

“What’s our motto?” asked Snow.

“Uh, ‘the army’s no match for NORA!’” Yuj answered.

“Attaboy,” said Snow, winking and ruffling the boy’s hair before continuing on toward the front.

“This is crazy!” said Maqui, NORA’s youngest recruit, as Snow arrived.

“Then take a nap!” yelled Gadot, firing an SMG at yet another wave of advancing soldiers.

“Really? Can I?” He was still a kid, and shouldn’t have been on the front line, but none of them had that luxury right now.

“Sure,” said Gadot sardonically. “And when we’re taking a dirt nap, you can save ‘em all.”

Maqui laid back, exhausted. “That’s even worse.”

“No dirt naps today!” said Snow, taking his place on the line. “We’re all in this together. Our enemy’s the Sanctum’s dreaded PSICOM! We can’t slack off.”

“What’s to dread?” laughed Lebreau. “PSICOM’s nothing but a bunch of bluster and bullying. They’ve got nothing on NORA!”

While it was true that the Public Security Intelligence Command, or PSICOM, was considered to be the army’s most elite branch, they were primarily an anti-Pulse task force. The Sanctum may have outfitted them with the most powerful weaponry on Cocoon and trained them to wage all-out war, but there hadn’t been a Pulsian threat for nearly five hundred years, and the average PSICOM soldier had never seen battle before today. The fact was that the ragtag misfits that made up NORA had more actual experience, and so far, they were winning.

“Well, we are the heroes, after all!” said Gadot. He knew that overconfidence could be their undoing, but he truly believed they could be the heroes these people needed, and the fighting in this area had finally begun to die down. 

“Let’s prove it then!” exclaimed Snow, gesturing to Lebreau and Gadot to follow him. “Maqui, stay back. The Sanctum’s gonna pay for this!” He charged at the remaining soldiers, activating the army surplus AMP device in his jacket that enhanced his physical abilities, and used it to deliver a supercharged punch to one of them while Lebreau and Gadot gunned the other two down.

The four of them continued down the trackway, forcing the PSICOM troops back inch by inch, but as they pressed further into enemy territory, they began to encounter stiffer resistance.

“Ugh, no more,” cried Maqui, collapsing to his knees.

“There are soldiers everywhere,” sighed Lebreau. She wasn’t afraid of a fight, and enjoyed proving herself to the boys, but even she was nearing her limit.

“Yo, Boss,” said Gadot. “What’s the plan?”

“Charge in, guns blazing,” said Snow with a smile.

“Hey, that’s not a plan,” pointed out Maqui.

“Real heroes don’t need plans!” echoed Lebreau, tossing a hand grenade at a pack of approaching bioweapon beasts and running forward once more.

“Hm,” sighed Maqui. They had to fight, he knew, but he did think the others were being reckless. Still, he pressed on with them as they came to another group of civilian survivors.

“You all okay?” asked Snow as they approached. 

The crowd gave a general murmur of acknowledgment, many of them glad to see someone on their side for once.

“Hey, careful with those!” said Snow as Maqui tripped on a piece of debris, dropping a bundle of extra guns he had been carrying. He turned back to the crowd. “Don’t worry. No one’s moving to Pulse today. We’ll clear you a path out of here, so be ready.”

“Wait!” said a man, standing up. “Let me fight with you!”

“You can’t expect us to just sit here,” said another, joining him. “We’re sitting ducks out here!”

Snow looked around at the group as several more of them stood up, anxious to fight back and defend the children and others who couldn’t. “Could help,” he said, looking at Gadot and Lebreau for input.

They both nodded in approval. “We’ve certainly got plenty of extra guns,” said Lebreau.

“Okay then,” agreed Snow. “Volunteers front and center.”

One by one, people began stepping up, and Maqui started passing out weapons and showing them how to use them.

“Mom?” called out a young boy as his mother got up to join them.

“Don’t worry,” she said, smiling at him.

Hope Estheim drew in a sharp breath as she put her hand on his shoulder in reassurance before stepping forward. He was only fourteen, and unlike most of the others, his mother and he were tourists, not residents of Bodhum. They had come to the resort town for the fireworks festival, and been trapped when the government had locked the city down. He knew no one here, and couldn’t understand why his mother felt inclined to risk her life fighting for these strangers.

Snow watched as the woman picked up a gun. “You sure?” he asked, noticing her trepidation.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling nervously and raising the weapon to her side. “Moms are tough.”

“All right,” he nodded, turning to the group.

“It’s the last one, Boss,” said Gadot, pointing at the lone weapon remaining.

If everything went according to plan, thought Snow, the Sanctum’s forces wouldn’t get anywhere near those that stayed behind. They were mostly children and older folks, however, and he didn’t want to leave them completely unprotected. “All right, last one!” he said, holding up the gun. “Somebody take it.”

The scared civilians looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Hope scooted back, terrified at even the thought of fighting. Finally, one young woman stood up.

“Here,” said Oerba Dia Vanille, smiling at Snow and reaching for the gun. She had a bad feeling about this, and could tell he was courting disaster, but someone needed to protect those who were staying behind. She had no more desire to fight than Hope did, but unlike the rest, she knew she could. 

“Push comes to shove, keep them safe,” said Snow.

She looked the weapon over, examining it. She’d never held one before, but it was simple enough. “Bang!” she said, aiming it at Snow with a smile.

He grunted, playing along and feigning being hit. As he turned around, she silently made a traditional prayer gesture for those who followed him. These people were strangers to her as well, but she desperately hoped no harm would come to them.

“All right,” said Snow. “Lay low and you’ll be fine. We’ll clear out the area. We’re going home together!”

“Come on, everybody up,” said Lebreau, motioning the civilians to safety as another group of soldiers could be heard approaching. The volunteers followed as Snow and Gadot ran to meet them head-on, and Hope’s mother turned around once more to smile at him reassuringly. “Time to go, kiddo,” Lebreau said to Hope as he remained frozen in fear.

“We’re not losing to PSICOM, you hear me?” said Snow as the volunteers and NORA fighters grouped up behind the wreckage of an airship. 

“This’ll be a piece of cake,” reassured Lebreau.

“None of us are gonna make it out of here if we don’t do all we can!” Snow continued. “Stay sharp! We don’t wanna make their job any easier. Lebreau, back us up!”

The next instant, gunfire erupted all around as Snow charged at the Sanctum troops, scattering them with his AMP-enhanced punches as the others provided cover fire. Within minutes, they had handily trounced two waves of PSICOM’s supposed elite, and most of the volunteers were beginning to calm down.

“Mobilize Beta Force!” shouted a PSICOM commander into his radio as Snow’s ragtag group approached his troop carrier. “Put down the resistance!” Another airship approached, and from it leapt a bioengineered behemoth, two tons of cybernetically-enhanced muscle trained to kill on command. The freedom fighters pelted it with gunfire, but the bullets simply bounced off its thick metallicized skin.

“Heroes don’t run from fights!” declared Snow, rallying Gadot and Lebreau behind him. “No one’s dying today!”

The creature charged at him, and he met it with a powerful punch, knocking it back enough for the others to lay down cover fire. It swiped at Snow, but he kept up the fight, his AMP-enhanced fists damaging it where bullets couldn’t. He tossed a grenade behind it, ducking out of the way as the blast knocked it down momentarily.

Gadot aimed right for its eye, firing a volley that stunned it as it was blinded. The beast’s skin was nearly impenetrable, but its cyborg implants were weak points. Snow kicked one in, causing a chain reaction that overloaded its enhancement system. Steroid cocktails designed to supercharge the animal’s strength burst out of the implant, splashing harmlessly to the floor, and Snow threw one more grenade straight into its mouth.

It roared in pain and collapsed to the ground, and Snow threw his fist into the air. “That’s what I’m talking about!” A cheer rose from the volunteers as the enemy began to retreat.

The airship, however, had not flown away. It maneuvered closer, and the mounted guns on its turrets unleashed a barrage of high caliber fire on the fighters, instantly killing two of them.

“Shit!” yelled Gadot, ducking for cover and pulling the nearest volunteer down with him as death rained from above. “Snow! We got trouble!”

“No kidding,” said Snow, briefly freezing with fear not for himself, but for those he had promised to save. Spotting a rocket launcher lying abandoned in the battlefield, he stood up. “Stay down!” he said to the others, taking a running leap for it.

Bullets coursed through the air on all sides of him, only pure luck keeping him alive as the airship’s gunners turned their attention on him. A shot grazed his leg as he landed, and he tumbled several feet down the trackway, missing his mark. He reached for the rocket launcher, but it was too far away, and as a spotlight shone down on him, he realized just how bad the situation was.

The airship raised its main cannon, pointing it squarely at him, and began charging. Snow closed his eyes, realizing this would be the end. Just as it was about to fire, however, a rocket blast hit the cockpit, knocking the ship off course.

“I told you, didn’t I?” came a voice from behind him. “Moms are tough.”

Snow looked up at the woman from earlier, holding out her hand to help him to his feet. Grimacing with pain from his injured leg, he took her hand and stood up unsteadily. “Thank you,” he said.

The airship had not been defeated, though, and the crew had had time to aim the cannon once more. An explosion roared between them and the others, and she gasped in shock as she was struck by flying shrapnel right as the shockwave knocked them both out momentarily.

As Snow came to, the woman lay on top of him, gravely wounded, and he realized the debris would have hit him had she not been there. “No,” he said, in denial. “No, no!” He stood up, picking her up with him. She still lived, but he didn’t know for how much longer, and as he got his bearings, he saw an even grislier sight.

The blast had blown clean through the trackway, and it had begun to destabilize. Some of the fighters had been instantly killed, while others lay wounded and unable to move as it slowly collapsed underneath them. The survivors scrambled to get to safety, but Snow could only watch in horror as more than a dozen of them tumbled off the edge to their deaths.

He was shaken to his senses as the segment he was on began to buckle as well. In a panic, he held on to the wounded woman with one hand and grasped the other around a piece of rebar as the section of track teetered precariously at an angle. Screams echoed in the distance as others weren’t so lucky, and he dangled over the edge, his savior clinging to his hand and hanging into the abyss.

She looked him in the eye, knowing there was no way they would both survive. “Get him home,” she implored. “Please.”

“Hold on!” said Snow, trying to pull them both up onto the edge, but even he could tell it wouldn’t work. She lost consciousness once more, going limp and becoming dead weight. He tightened his grip, but he could feel her hand slipping out. The next moment, she slipped out one last inch, and fell.

Snow screamed in frustration, looking down and cursing himself for not being strong enough. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this, he thought. Then, the bridge support gave way, and he fell also.

* * *

High above the chaos, Lightning and Sazh stared down from their commandeered troop carrier. Even Sazh couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched the bridge collapse in the aftermath of the air strike. “It’s an out-and-out massacre,” he said. “Those people won’t even live long enough to die on Pulse.”

“That was the idea,” said Lightning, joining him at the railing.

“What?” he blurted out. She had been a Sanctum soldier. Could she have known what they planned the whole time?

“Sanctum logic,” she explained. “They conjured up the Purge to eliminate a threat. I mean, why carry the danger all the way to Pulse? Why not just stamp it out here? Execution masquerading as exile. That’s all the Purge ever was.”

Sazh glared daggers at her, but finally just sighed and shrugged. If he was honest with himself, it didn’t truly surprise him. Not after what he’d already seen over the past two weeks. “‘Relocation to Pulse,’” he quoted. “How does the government get away with pulling crap like that? And you knew this was gonna happen?”

Lightning shook her head adamantly. “The Purge was PSICOM. Private Sanctum troops, not the Guardian Corps.” 

“Soldiers are soldiers though, aren’t they?” asked Sazh.

“That’s what I thought too,” said Lightning. The truth was, her own commanding officer had warned her the night the fal’Cie had been discovered that PSICOM was up to something. He had told her to take the day off and skip town. If only it had been that simple, she thought.

“I mean, Pulse fal’Cie and their l’Cie are enemies of the state, right?” continued Sazh. “Tell a soldier to kill an enemy, and you really think it’s gonna matter what uniform he’s wearing? What about you? Orders say shoot, you pull the trigger?”

What about me, indeed? wondered Lightning. Her world had been turned upside down, and she didn’t know any more. If it were anyone else…

“Fine,” said Sazh as it became clear she had no intention of responding. “Forget I asked.”

* * *

Hope stood at the edge of the track, safe for now, but he had watched the entire incident go down. He couldn’t believe—didn’t want to believe his own eyes. It all felt like a dream, a terrible nightmare that he could just wake up from and be back in his bed in Palumpolum, miles away from any l’Cie or soldiers or Purge trains.

The happy, upbeat music that had played during the fireworks show in Bodhum echoed in his mind, a profound cognitive dissonance that only made this moment seem even more unreal. It was supposed to be a vacation, just him and his mother spending quality time together away from his estranged father.

But then had come a flurry of activity; airships coming and going at all hours of day and night, soldiers patrolling around the old Vestige outside of town, and before they had known what was going on, the military had cordoned off the entire city. And as word had spread that an unknown fal’Cie of Pulse origin had awakened, the next day he had found himself herded onto the train with his mother.

The entire population, to be shipped off to Pulse to die in the wilderness, just like that, based on nothing but fear. Even he knew it was wrong, but why couldn’t his mom have stayed with him? Instead, she had gone off with a handsome stranger in a trench coat and then died to save him, leaving Hope to face this alone.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to look. The strange girl that had offered to protect the rest of the townspeople stood next to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t even wrap his mind around what it truly meant that she was gone.

“Come on,” said Vanille, tugging on his arm as the sounds of fighter jets began to get closer. He stood motionless, almost catatonic, simply staring at the collapsed bridge. Gunfire sounded in the distance, and Vanille slapped him to his senses. “We have to move!” she said.

Just then, an alarm klaxon sounded from the distance, and a massive door set into the cavern’s stone ceiling began to open. Daylight poured in through the gap, and a fleet of airships descended, headed by the massive flagship Palamecia, from which was suspended an entire building.

The Bodhum Vestige had been plucked right from the skyline and carried here with the Purge victims. It was more than a building, however, people now knew. The ancient structure was home to the fal’Cie that had started it all, the epicenter of the Pulse panic that had led to the Purge.

It had slept silently outside the city for centuries, no one the wiser to its existence; just a curious and creepy old ruin that had been sealed tight until two weeks prior. Now, however, it was awake. Strange bluish lights played across its surface, and the eerie clockwork that covered its upper half was spinning and ticking. It had a presence that caused everyone, Sanctum and civilian alike, to stop for a second, as if it commanded them to look.

Vanille made a prayer sign with her fingers once more, her heart skipping a beat as the doors closed behind it. This was the last chance, she knew. Getting to it would be difficult, but she had to try. She struggled out of the constrictive Purge robe she had been made to wear, turning around to see Hope still staring into the distance, lost in his grief.

“Huh?” Hope said, looking at her, a seemingly oblivious girl, just smiling at him in a strange outfit sewn with beads and furs.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” she said, hugging him. “Sometimes you have to face it later.” It was her way; her innocent eyes and childlike features belied what they had been witness to. She lived forever in the moment, never stopping to reflect on the past, lest it break her.

“But,” Hope started to say. Face it later? He looked around at the faces of the broken people around him, all of them without a home or a future to speak of. What would be later? He had nothing left; only the clothes on his back and the competition-model Airwing his mother had bought him as a Pompa Sancta day present last year. Now, he would never see her again, and would likely die here alone.

“Ciao!” Vanille said cheerfully, waving and scampering off.

“Hey!” he shouted, running after her. “Wait!” As strange as she was, she was the only one who had even so much as made eye contact with him since the train crashed. Now, even she had disappeared into the crowd, and he sat down, slumped against a supply crate, alone.

THREE

Snow came to once more, vaguely aware of the tangle of cables that had broken his fall. He could see the bodies of the others that had not been so lucky, however, strewn across the wreckage like so many rag dolls. Why was I spared? he couldn’t help but wonder. Was it just blind luck? Was it fate? His eyes came to rest on the woman who had shielded him from the blast. Her face was peaceful, however, and Snow wondered why.

“‘Get him home,’” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Get who home?” He had heard part of the woman’s exchange with her son, but hadn’t seen who she had been speaking with. Most of the children had still been wearing their Purge robes; he hadn’t even seen their faces.

“Snow!” came Gadot’s voice from behind him.

He turned to look, seeing his friend climbing over the rubble, but all he could think of was the moment when he had lost his grip and let the woman fall. None of these people would have even been here had he not told them they could fight. He had told them they had a chance against PSICOM gunships, and now they had paid the ultimate price for his bluster.

“What about the others?” Gadot asked.

Snow simply shook his head, not wanting to answer. Lebreau, Yuj, even young Maqui; all of their lives had been in his hands, and he had let them down as well. Some leader I am, he thought.

“They didn’t die,” said Gadot. “They couldn’t have died, right?”

“Of course not,” Snow snarked. He didn’t see their bodies anywhere, but there were several more levels of tracks below the one they had landed on. He had seen some people get to relative safety before the collapse, but he had no idea who had made it and who hadn’t.

“Hey, get a grip, man!” Gadot shouted. “What’s wrong with you?”

Snow still didn’t answer. Gadot was still acting with his usual bravado, but in the end, he wasn’t the one responsible for keeping everyone safe. That had always fallen to Snow, and now he had failed.

“Toss me that,” said Gadot, pointing to an abandoned gun on the ground.

Snow took a deep breath, picking it up and throwing it. “Catch,” he said.

Gadot deftly snatched the weapon out of the air, and promptly leveled directly at Snow’s head.

“What are you doing?” questioned Snow.

“So, what are you afraid of?” asked Gadot. “You’re supposed to be the hero!” He lowered the gun, gesturing up at the eerie sight of the Vestige floating above them. “She’s waiting there, ain’t she? Your lovely bride-to-be?”

“Serah,” said Snow, looking up at the Vestige, realizing he hadn’t quite failed everyone. Not yet, anyway. The love of his life was trapped inside that building, and if there was anyone left who would consider him a hero, it would be her.

“Isn’t it about time you picked her up?” Gadot said.

“Yeah,” Snow agreed, looking around to formulate a plan for getting to her. Three aerial recon soldiers flew overhead, looping back around and parking their army-issue velocycles on the other side of a wrecked traincar. “There’s our ride!”

Gadot laughed. This was the Snow he knew. “Now you’re talkin’!” 

The two of them charged forward, crouching down in the cover of the traincar and taking stock of the situation. The soldiers were busily unloading supply crates, none the wiser to their approach.

“All right,” said Snow. “On my mark.” He counted down with his fingers, charging his AMP as Gadot loaded a cartridge into the gun. “Go!”

Gadot roared, sweeping the SMG across the field as the soldiers turned around in surprise. One was struck down outright, and Snow launched himself at the others, punching one so hard his helmet cracked, then throwing him at the last one standing. It was over before it began, and the two of them high-fived each other as the velocycles were theirs to take.

“That’s a sad sound,” said Gadot, climbing into one and firing up its engine. “Where’s the soul?” They were no replacement for the custom airbikes that Maqui would tinker with in his spare time, but they were fast and efficient, and would give them the run of the Hanging Edge.

Snow climbed into another, taking a moment to peer up at the Vestige. “Hey Gadot?”

“Yeah?” he said, distracted as he tried in vain to see if the velocycle’s radio could be tuned to a music station instead of army chatter.

“If you don’t know who you’ve gotta save, you just protect them all, right?”

“Something on your mind?” he asked, looking over at Snow. “You’ve got plenty of time for thinkin’ on the way, hero!”

“Yeah,” Snow said, frowning slightly. Gadot was a good friend, but he could be thick at times. He started the engine, lifting the cycle off the ground and turning it toward NORA’s base camp. Anyone who survived would have made their way there, and he needed to check on the children as well as his friends. “Ready?”

Gadot nodded, and the two of them soared away into the air.

* * *

“Heads up!” cried Lebreau, raising her weapon as the two PSICOM-issue velocycles came in to land at the perimeter.

“Don’t shoot!” yelled Gadot as he parked the cycle, putting his hands up as his jumpy comrades slowly lowered their guns.

“Hey, it’s us!” Snow added, so glad to see his friends alive. “It’s just us.”

“Snow!” called Maqui, waving and dashing up to him.

Even Gadot could tell Snow was still distracted, however, as he looked nervously around the camp. “Since when do you care about kids?” he asked.

“Favor for a friend,” said Snow, sighing and realizing he still had no idea who the woman’s son would be among the camp’s many children.

“Hey Snow!” Maqui interrupted, pushing Gadot aside as Yuj and Lebreau joined them. “You made it! You have no idea what it was like.”

“Everyone safe?” Snow asked.

Maqui and Yuj struck a ridiculous pose, high-fiving each other and yelling, “The army’s no match for NORA!”

“I meant the kids,” clarified Snow.

“All accounted for,” reassured Yuj.

“Okay,” said Snow, taking a deep breath. “Let’s keep it that way, all right?”

From a distance, Hope watched the reunion, emotions raging out of control. So he survived, he thought, the feelings finally settling on a profound anger. Why did this buffoon get to live, get to smile again after he got so many people killed? It simply wasn’t fair. “There he is,” he muttered.

Vanille strode over, her empathy telling her all she needed to know. “Did you have something to tell him?” she asked.

“Uh,” said Hope, startled. “Yeah.”

“All right then!” she said, smiling at him. The irony wasn’t lost on her that she was encouraging him to come clean about his feelings when she had so many things that she kept inside, but his pain was overwhelming. She had an uncanny ability to know what others were feeling, to feel it herself as if they were her own emotions. It was a blessing and a curse together, but she couldn’t ignore it.

“But, I…” Hope started to say, trailing off.

“I’ll go with you,” she said, leaning closer.

“What?” Her kindness made no sense; none of the others would even look at him. Everyone here was hurting, and everyone was lost in their own pain, except her.

“Go on!” encouraged Vanille, pushing Hope forward, but he stopped, afraid. “Hey!” she called, waving to get Snow’s attention, but her voice was drowned out as he started the velocycle’s engine once more.

“I’ll swing by the Vestige,” said Snow, determined once more. “Keep the kids out of trouble.”

“You got it,” Yuj said, giving him a thumbs-up.

“Say hi to the missus for me,” said Gadot, smiling. “You go skirt-chasing, I take care of the kids. Some husband you’ll be!” he teased.

“Dinner’s on me,” said Snow, pulling back the cycle’s throttle.

“When’s the wedding, lover boy?” asked Yuj, poking him.

“Don’t worry, none of you are invited,” he joked, gunning the engine and lifting off. “Catch ya later!” With that, he soared off toward the ominous Vestige.

“Oh!” said Vanille, reaching out, but he was long gone. Behind her, Hope simply stared, his face set in a grim line. She walked up, inspecting the other velocycle, and with nothing else to do, he slowly followed. The NORA fighters were making the rounds, still reassuring people everything would be okay, but Hope didn’t buy a word of it. Even if they could hide from the soldiers, there was no way out of the Hanging Edge, and anyone who could escape would still be a fugitive.

“You okay?” Vanille asked him, her infectious optimism cracking Hope’s shell just slightly.

“I want to tell him,” he said, reaching out to take hold of her arm. “It’s just that…”

“Say,” she began, pointing to the velocycle. “You know how to fly this?” She looked up at the Vestige. Now they both had a reason to go there, she realized.

“Yeah, I think so,” admitted Hope. He was way too young to have a license, but he had played plenty of video games, and the basic controls seemed self-explanatory.

“All right!” Vanille exclaimed, pushing him into the seat. “In you go!”

“What?” Hope blurted out, startled, as Vanille hopped in behind him and held on.

“That way!” she said, pointing at the Vestige.

She had to be crazy. Chase Snow to the lair of a Pulse fal’Cie? “No, no,” he said, shaking his head. He was surrounded by lunatics. He didn’t understand how this girl who was several years older than him could be so oblivious, as if she didn’t even understand the danger. “If we go in there, that thing could…it could make us l’Cie. This is…I don’t think I can…”

“You can do it,” assured Vanille, reaching around him, taking his hand, and placing it on the cycle’s handlebar.

“What are you two doing?” came a shout from the camp. 

In a panic, Hope looked over and saw Gadot running full speed at them. He didn’t know what to do anymore, and he was out of time. “Okay, here we go!” he said, twisting the throttle.

The cycle leapt up into the air, wobbling as Hope desperately tried to stabilize it. All those racing games made it seem a lot easier than it actually was, he realized, as they drifted dangerously close to a support pylon. He jerked the control to the left, overcompensating and causing the cycle to spin in the air.

“Uh oh!” cried Gadot, watching in horror as they careened past him. “Get back here! Do you hear me? Hey!”

Hope gripped the handlebars with white knuckles as Vanille clung to him for dear life, forcing the cycle to slow down and right itself. He looked up at the Vestige, still afraid but thinking of Snow’s smug face. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the throttle once more, and the two of them zoomed off to their destiny.

* * *

Hope woke up, bruised all over, his head still spinning. He lay on top of Vanille in an unfamiliar room, trying to remember what had happened. The last thing he could recall was losing control of the velocycle, and then waking up here. Wherever here was…

“Wow, that was close,” said Vanille, stirring. “Now, where is the… Oops. Well, then.”

They both looked over at the corner of the room where the velocycle lay in a smoking wreck. Hope scanned the area, trying to figure out where they had ended up. The architecture was like nothing he had seen before; brass pipes and spinning fans adorned walls of intricate marble carvings. The floor was uncannily pristine, as if polished that morning, but everything about it spoke of immense age. 

Small flecks of crystal drifted through the air, glittering in the light, and a stifling presence seemed to dominate the room. As if we’re being watched, he thought, his eyes coming to rest on a large door emblazoned with a glowing red sigil of interlocking arrows. The symbol of Pulse, he realized, a cold sweat coming over him. They were inside the Vestige, and the presence he felt could only be the fal’Cie itself.

“Guess it’s just us,” said Vanille, making her prayer gesture once more and looking more somber than Hope had seen her before.

“What did you expect?” snapped Hope. 

She turned toward him, her face a mask of pain. “Oh…” she started to say, but stopped. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, but she didn’t dare. She was on her own now, she knew, and Hope would be relying on her to keep him safe.

“Even soldiers know not to go near the fal’Cie,” said Hope, wondering what had come over him to act so recklessly. “You become a Pulse l’Cie, and you’re finished.”

“What do you mean, ‘finished?’” she retorted.

Was she really this dense? he wondered. “Haven’t you heard, Miss…?” He realized he didn’t even know her name, and yet he had let her talk him into entering the domain of an alien demigod that could make him its slave without a second thought.

“Vanille,” she said, smiling once more as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “And you?”

“Hope,” he sighed, standing up. “What were we thinking?”

She brushed the dirt off his jacket and twirled around. “Well, since we’re here, let’s look around!”

“Look around?” he said, flabbergasted. “Is this a game to you?”

She darted up a set of stairs, inspecting one of the two large stone pedestals that flanked the room as if they had held statues that had since been removed. “Oh! Check this out!” she said, hopping up onto its base.

“Hey! Vanille! Where are you going?” he asked.

She reached behind the column, returning with an unusual folding staff shaped like a pair of antlers, which she held up into the air as if Hope was supposed to be impressed. “Well?” she said, doing a little dance with it.

Hope had had just about enough of her. “That’s…um…very nice,” he said, rolling his eyes ever so slightly. Now she’s going around picking up random Pulsian artifacts without the slightest concern?

Both of them were startled by a sudden noise from behind them. Hope spun around, stumbling back as one of the army’s mechanized panthers roared at them from less than six feet away. “How did that get in here?” he screamed.

Vanille jumped in front of him, holding up the staff and staring the creature down. She wants to fight it? he thought. With that thing? In a panic, he pulled out his boomerang-like Airwing, cranking the AMP stabilizer to maximum and throwing it at the beast. It hit the creature dead in the eye, stunning it momentarily and flying back to his hand.

Vanille thrust the staff forward, wires with barbed tips launching forth from four spots along its antler design. She deftly swung it back and forth like a whip, the barbs gouging into the panther’s metallicized skin and the wires tangling into its legs and tripping it. She pulled the staff back, and the wires tightened, squeezing the life out of the beast until it died.

Hope stood open-mouthed, as Vanille simply gave the staff a shake and the wires retracted inside as if they had never been there. “Okay!” she said, folding it up and tucking it in a leather pouch that hung from her fur-lined skirt. “Back to exploring!”

“You’re insane,” he said, shaking his head. “How are we supposed to get out of here?”

“I don’t know,” said Vanille, shrugging absent-mindedly. Hope sighed, tagging along behind her. Crazy or not, she was obviously tougher than she looked, and he didn’t stand much of a chance by himself if another of those panthers showed up.

He looked off to the right, his eye caught by the presence of a second velocycle, also seemingly crashed. “That’s his,” he said, his mind instantly flashing back to the reason he had embarked on this fool’s errand. Snow had come here after all. Still, he didn’t think poking around at random things was a good idea. “Aren’t you scared?” he asked.

“Not so much,” Vanille admitted, and continued skipping across the shiny stone floor.

“You really don’t get it,” he said, looking down at his shoes.

She turned around, looking him in the eye. “Of course I do. Pulse fal’Cie, and their l’Cie, are bad news. That’s why Cocoon kicked them out. So, live too close to the fal’Cie? One-way ticket to Pulse!”

“Yeah, and if they catch us here, they’ll Purge us too!”

“What’s your problem?” Vanille snapped.

“‘What’s my problem?’” yelled Hope. It was as if she was being deliberately obstinate, playing dumb just to get to him. “Pulse is hell on earth!”

Vanille simply gave him a big hug, patting him on the head. “We’ll be okay! Calm down.”

It was the same thing his mother used to do for him. “Get off me,” he said, pushing her away. Even her kind gesture hurt too much right now, only reminding him of his mother’s stark absence.

“Serah!” As if on cue, a voice rang out from the upper levels of the building. “Can you hear me? Where are you? Hang on, baby! Your hero’s on his way!”

“He is here,” spat Hope. “Calling himself a hero.”

“He’s coming our way,” Vanille pointed out.

“What should I do?” he panicked.

“Tell him what you need to!” she said.

“Tell him…” he started to say. What was there to say? No words would bring his mom back. He tried to imagine Snow apologizing, and nearly laughed. What would somebody like that say? “Sorry about your mom, kid. My bad!” Snow seemed like the kind of person that never even considered the consequences of his actions. 

“Or,” suggested Vanille. “We could just run away.”

“How?” Hope wondered. Both velocycles were damaged beyond repair, and the entire building was suspended from an airship inside a cordoned-off area, on its way to the surface of Pulse. Their fate had been sealed the moment they had crashed here. 

Still, Vanille seemed carefree. She wandered ahead, through a hallway into another chamber, leaving Hope with little choice but to follow. The feeling as if the fal’Cie was watching them grew stronger by the minute, and it felt as if they were heading deeper into the Vestige. He desperately wanted to turn back, but Vanille was focused, as if she was searching for something.

An unearthly roar suddenly rang out through the room, and Hope froze in terror. From pathways on both sides of them came a horde of strange creatures, shuffling toward them at a slow but steady pace. They were vaguely humanoid, but something about them was simply wrong. They moved in stuttering, jerking motions, cracking and crunching as if they were made of animate stone, each one seemingly powered by a glowing red core in its chest upon which was emblazoned the sigil of Pulse.

“What are they?” cried Hope, backing away only to discover that they came from behind him as well.

“Cie’th,” said Vanille, her face somber for the second time. “L’Cie who failed.”

“Failed?” questioned Hope, unable to believe that there could possibly be anything worse than being a l’Cie.

“This is what happens,” Vanille explained, “when l’Cie don’t complete the Focus the fal’Cie gave them.” She made the prayer symbol with her hands once more, closing her eyes for a moment and centering herself. They had most likely been Sanctum soldiers sent in to secure the Vestige, she realized, only to be cursed for their trespass. There was nothing she could do for them, she knew, but their pain threatened to overwhelm her.

They were closing in on all sides now, and she drew her staff to fight. She had no idea how Hope would react, but she knew she couldn’t hold back this time or they would both die here.

FOUR

“Raagh!” came a yell from across the room, and one of the Cie’th went flying as Snow charged into the fray to protect them. “Let’s even these odds!”

Vanille breathed a sigh of relief, happily stepping back. She swung her staff, entangling several of them in its wires and letting Snow take them down. Behind her, Hope threw the Airwing once more, maneuvering it with the AMP to bounce between them and knock them over. As Snow punched the last of the Cie’th over the edge of the platform, Hope fell to his knees, winded.

“How did you get in here?” cried Snow. “You’ve gotta leave!”

Vanille giggled slightly, and Hope just glared at him.

“Okay, listen,” Snow continued. “Find someplace to hide and keep quiet. Once I find Serah, we’ll all leave together. You’ll be home in time for dinner!” He turned and hurried off.

“You…” Hope started to say.

“Wait!” Vanille called out. “Who’s Serah?”

“My wife,” said Snow. “Future wife, that is. She’s a Pulse l’Cie,” he added nonchalantly.

Instantly, Vanille’s face fell, her mind racing with so many thoughts. “Oh no,” she said as the pieces fell into place.

“She’s here somewhere,” Snow continued. “Along with that fal’Cie. I’ve gotta find her and set her free.”

“What’s wrong with you?” screamed Hope. “Why do you wanna help a l’Cie? They’re the enemy! How can you save a l’Cie, and not…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “That’s insane!” he yelled.

“Probably,” Snow admitted. “But I gotta do something, right? I’ll be back.”

He had to do something, thought Vanille. Just like Fang. Just like me. “Should we wait around for him and hitch a ride?” she wondered aloud.

“I’d rather go to Pulse!” Hope shrieked, dropping to his knees and punching the floor. “Why is this happening to me?” he cried, telling Vanille how he had only been a tourist when he was rounded up by the army like so many others. “And because of that guy, Mom is gone. And he wants to help a l’Cie?”

“Hey again,” said Snow, having turned back realizing he shouldn’t just leave them.

“Hey,” said Vanille, smiling at him. She took Hope’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go with him.” 

“What?” Hope said.

“You’ve got to talk to him, Hope,” she said. “If you don’t take this chance, you’ll regret it forever.” She knew the pain of leaving things unsaid. Their circumstances were very different, but she didn’t want Hope to have to suffer that pain. Snow was so much like Fang, she could now see. He would listen, and he would understand. Hope had the chance that she might never have to make things right.

“Okay,” said Hope reluctantly, following Snow and Vanille as they pressed on into the Vestige’s depths.

* * *

Ten stories below them, Lightning slashed in vain at the door that barred her way. Sazh had easily docked the troop transport right in front of the Vestige’s main entrance, but they hadn’t gotten twenty yards in before coming to this obstacle. A solid metal bulkhead, sealed with an ominous glowing red Pulsian sigil.

According to army intel, this was the door that had been found open when this all began. For whatever reason, though, the fal’Cie had seen fit to slam it shut once more, and no matter how much she swiped and stabbed at it, it wouldn’t budge.

“I think the door’s winning,” said Sazh sardonically, getting up from where he had been sitting on the floor for the past twenty minutes.

“Why didn’t I listen?” Lightning wondered aloud. If only she hadn’t been her stubborn self, she knew, things might have turned out very differently.

“Beg your pardon?” Sazh asked.

“It was me,” she realized. “This is my fault.”

“Uh, beg your pardon?” repeated Sazh.

Dammit, she thought. This is why I wanted to be alone. “Cover your ears,” she said, removing a grenade from her pocket.

“Oh, you’re gonna blast it?” Sazh asked, dashing back down the corridor and ducking into an alcove. “Alright, ready! Go for it!”

Lightning stashed the grenade away, however, and simply raised her hand to the glowing barrier. It reacted to her touch, brightening ever so slightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Please let me in. Please?” She closed her eyes, and the bulkhead responded, the glowing red seal fading and the doors sliding open.

“What?” said Sazh, looking up. “What the hell? How did you open it?”

Lightning was silent. It hadn’t been the fal’Cie after all that had locked them out. She had been the one locked out, due to her own bull-headedness. It was her own personal business, though, and Sazh didn’t need to know.

“Fine,” he said, throwing up his hands and following. “After you.” The door closed solidly behind them, however. The only way was forward from here. They climbed in silence for several floors, encountering nothing but a few Sanctum bioweapons here and there.

“If those things are still around,” said Sazh, “there might be some soldiers trapped in here too.”

“Mm,” muttered Lightning, unfazed.

“Except,” he realized, “they’d probably be l’Cie by now.”

“I’m not afraid of a few l’Cie,” said Lightning.

“Well, they’re not even human anymore,” he said, frowning. “Just Pulse l’Cie. Enemies of Cocoon. Can’t show ‘em any mercy.”

Lightning simply gritted her teeth, walking faster, her hand on the hilt of her Blazefire Saber.

“What’s gotten into you, soldier?” Sazh asked. “I thought you came for a fight.”

She stopped, taking a deep breath. The man had followed her this far, and he was obviously not going to back down from the danger. She couldn’t keep it from him any longer, but after what he had said… “My sister,” she finally admitted.

“Your sister?” asked Sazh, confused.

“Serah,” she said. “She’s a l’Cie.”

“What?” shrieked Sazh. “A Pulse l’Cie?”

Lightning nodded, still gripping the saber in an obvious manner. His reaction was about what she had expected. She didn’t want to fight him, but she was prepared to do anything she had to for her sister. “The fal’Cie has her captive. But I’ll find her.”

Sazh backed off slightly. “Is she still…uhh… What was her Focus? When she became a l’Cie, what did the fal’Cie order her to do? It wasn’t…blow up Cocoon or anything like that, was it?”

She sighed, furious with herself once more. “I didn’t ask.”

“You…didn’t ask,” said Sazh. “Uhh…”

Just then, a humming noise filled the room, and a door above them slid open. From the other side came Sazh’s worst fears confirmed: the soldiers who had entered the Vestige were no longer human.

“Uh, listen to me,” he said, trying to speak delicately now that he knew Lightning was here to save her sister. “So, when a person gets cursed by a fal’Cie, they become a l’Cie and they get given a Focus, right?” They could both see the Cie’th filing in through the door at the top of the stairs. “How do I put this?” he continued. “If they don’t carry it out,” he finally explained, “l’Cie end up as one of those things.”

“Your point?” asked Lightning.

“What I’m saying is,” he said, “if your sister…if Serah’s gone that far… I mean, she might still… Oh, man. Look, Lightning, there’s no way to turn a l’Cie back into a human. Even if she completes her Focus, there’s no changing her fate. She’ll live her life as a fal’Cie slave. Don’t make her suffer.”

Lightning whirled around, shoving Sazh back, forcing herself not to draw her weapon. “Just say it! Any l’Cie, right? Anyone who might ever become a l’Cie should be wiped off the face of Cocoon? It’s people like you that started the Purge in the first place!”

Sazh sighed. Maybe she even would have been right at one time. When he was younger, he probably would have been one of the thousands clamoring for the Sanctum to do something about the Pulse threat. Things weren’t that simple anymore, however.

Lightning had walked off, and Sazh hurried to catch up with her. She stood at the doorway, surrounded by dead Cie’th. Even he had never seen one, however, and his stomach turned as he got a closer look at them. Their faces were covered by stone hands, as if they were clutching at themselves in pain.

“So that’s a Cie’th, huh?” he remarked, shaking his head. “Some innocent kid gets picked as a l’Cie one day, and they end up as one of those things?”

Lightning glared at him once more, and they walked on in tense silence. The room beyond was filled with Cie’th; some had overgrown into hulking forms, others fluttered around the room on crystalline wings like unholy bats. There was nothing they could do but fight their way through, however. Whatever fate awaited Serah, it was obvious that these monstrosities were no longer human.

Together, they ascended one more floor, into a massive hall decorated with ancient, decaying banners in a way that seemed almost reverent. Revering the fal’Cie? wondered Lightning, looking around at the strange machinery that surrounded them. Cables dangled from the ceiling above, and steam issued forth from vents in the wall surrounding one final door, again sealed with the mark of Pulse.

“Serah!” yelled Lightning as she crested the staircase, seeing her sister sprawled on the floor in front of her. She ran over to her, breathing a sigh of relief when she realized the girl was still alive, just unconscious. She quickly scooped her up into her arms. “Time to go. We have to leave before the army…”

Sazh barred her way, however. “That’s a Pulse brand,” he said, pointing to a mark on her arm. It matched the one on the door behind her. “That girl’s a l’Cie.”

“I already told you that,” said Lightning.

“Pulse l’Cie are the enemies of Cocoon,” he said, slowly removing one of his guns from its holster.

“Don’t do this, Sazh,” said Lightning.

He sighed, lowering the gun. “Listen, if she fails her Focus, you know how that’ll end.”

“So she should die?” asked Lightning. “Killing her is a mercy? I don’t buy it. I won’t.”

“You came,” said Serah weakly, coming to in Lightning’s arms.

“Serah!” came a shout from behind as Snow dashed up the stairs. He knelt by her side as Lightning set her down, taking her hand. “Oh, Serah!”

“Is that my hero?” Serah asked, smiling at him.

He could only press her hand against his forehead, unable to think of a thing to say. Hope and Vanille approached slowly, and Vanille cried out with shock when she saw Serah’s face.

It was the final piece of the puzzle; Serah had been the one who had found her way into the Vestige and been marked by the fal’Cie. She had met the girl again on the beach in Bodhum before the Purge, and they had talked for hours, about things unsaid, about Snow, and about Fang. And now…

“Let’s get you out of here,” said Snow.

“Hands off!” snapped Lightning. “I’m taking her home.”

“Sis, come on.”

“I’m not your sister!” she yelled. This buffoon had done enough damage to her family in her opinion. “You couldn’t protect her! It’s your fault she got locked in here!”

“You can save us,” said Serah, looking into her sister’s eyes.

“Serah?” asked Lightning.

“You can save us,” she repeated, smiling. “Protect us all. Save Cocoon.”

“Save Cocoon?” said Lightning. “Was that your Focus?”

“Anything,” said Snow. “I’ll do anything! Leave it to me. I’ll protect Cocoon. I’ll save everyone!”

Lightning glared daggers at him. “Somehow, I’ll make it right,” she assured.

“You just relax,” said Snow, kissing her on the forehead.

“Thank you,” Serah said, smiling once more as a mysterious blue glow came from the mark on her arm, slowly beginning to envelop her.

“Serah!” cried Lightning as her sister floated up into the air, flecks of crystal glittering around her.

Vanille gasped once more, watching as the girl’s skin slowly began to harden, developing a sheen and becoming translucent. Serah put her hands up to her face as a beautiful crystal grew from the ground beneath her, cradling her as she began to meld with it. A single tear dripped from her eye, crystallizing as it fell, and Snow reached out to catch it.

“Serah!” he called out, reaching for her.

“No,” said Lightning, unwilling to accept what was happening.

“Why is she turning to crystal?” Vanille wondered aloud.

“L’Cie who fulfill their Focus are transformed into crystal and gain eternal life,” explained Sazh. “Just like the stories say.”

Vanille already knew that much. What she didn’t understand, however, is how Serah could possibly have fulfilled her Focus. What could a Pulse fal’Cie—what could this Pulse fal’Cie have wanted her to do that would have been accomplished just by bringing the five of them together in this room?

“Serah,” said Snow. “Sweet dreams.”

“‘Sweet dreams?’” yelled Lightning, shaking Snow by the shoulder. “She’s not sleeping! Serah’s…she’s…”

“She’s alive!” said Snow.

“No,” denied Lightning. Snow was a hopeless optimist, and she wasn’t gonna give in to that kind of thinking. Her sister, the only family she had left, was nothing more than a pretty crystal statue now, and Snow was even more of a fool than she had thought if he believed otherwise.

“The legend!” he insisted. “Remember the legend! L’Cie who fulfill their Focus gain eternal life. It’s the same with Serah! Eternal life! She’s not dead!” The others looked pensive. That was what the stories said, but it was hard to believe there was much life to be had as a crystal. “Serah’s my bride-to-be,” Snow continued. “I promised to be hers forever! I don’t care how many years I have to wait…”

Lightning decked him full-force in the jaw before he could even finish. “It’s over!” she yelled. “Open your damn eyes and face reality!”

Vanille walked over, placing her hand on Serah’s crystal head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She knew, of course, that there was nothing she could do, but she also knew the power of a promise. What could she say that would convince someone like Lightning, though?

The next instant, the entire building shook. “It’s the army!” said Sazh. Lightning and Snow both dived to shield Serah’s crystal with their bodies as chunks of marble began to rain down from the ceiling.

“What’s happening?” shrieked Vanille, ducking out of the way as a pillar began to collapse where she had been standing.

“Must be a Sanctum strike,” Sazh mused. “Bring down the Vestige and the fal’Cie right with it!”

She grabbed onto his arms, shaking her head. “Aren’t they taking it back to Pulse? That’s what the Purge was, right?”

“All they care about is getting everything from Pulse off of Cocoon,” said Sazh. “Dead or alive, it’s all the same to them.”

“No,” she whispered, stepping back. She had believed they were better than this; hadn’t the fighting only broken out when the people from NORA had taken up arms? Another blast shook the building, and Hope grabbed a hold of her hand.

“We can’t stay here!” he yelled. “They’ll kill us!”

She looked up at the door that lay beyond as rubble continued to fall from above. If it kept up, even this ancient edifice that had stood for thousands of years across two worlds wouldn’t be able to protect them. “Anima,” she whispered, hoping she wasn’t making a grave mistake.

As suddenly as it had begun, the shaking stopped, and an eerie quiet settled in, as if time itself had stopped. The sigil barring the final door faded, and it slid open.

Snow looked up, noticing it. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Serah. “Hold on.”

“Hey Trench Coat!” called out Sazh. “Where are you going?”

“Date with the fal’Cie,” he answered. “We’ve got some things to talk about.”

“What?” sputtered Sazh. “You’re gonna ask it to help her?Are you out of your mind? That thing wants to chew us up and spit us out!”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Snow yelled. “Wait, Lightning?” She had taken out her saber, and was silently ascending the staircase. 

“Here we go,” muttered Sazh, realizing the two of them had finally agreed on something, and it was to take the most outrageous course of action possible.

“This isn’t happening,” Hope simply said, clinging to Vanille for dear life as he watched even Sazh follow them. She, too, began to climb the stairs, and Hope had no choice but to follow or be left behind.

The five of them strode cautiously through the door, into a dark hallway that lay beyond. The only light within came from the omnipresent flakes of crystal that drifted through the air, and the stifling presence that pervaded the building was nearly unbearable here. They weren’t just being watched anymore. They were being welcomed.

“So this is the fal’Cie?” asked Hope as the corridor opened up into a grand hall, still dark with a single light shining on a dome of metal that stood before them. Engraved into it was some kind of writing, a strange script like nothing found on Cocoon. Cables led out from it to unfathomable machines hooked into the walls, and the only sound was a subtle ticking noise. A clockwork god, utterly inhuman.

“Serah’s a crystal now,” pleaded Snow. “You gave her a Focus, and she did it! You got what you want, now let her go!”

Vanille shook her head in the dark. She knew that wasn’t how this worked, but there was little to be done at this point. The machine did not respond, only the ticking of its gears answered Snow’s heartfelt cry.

“Please,” he begged, getting down on his knees. “Turn her back! I’ll be your l’Cie instead!”

Tick, tock.

“Fine, you go on begging,” said Lightning, drawing her saber. “Like this thing gives a damn what we want!” She sliced and slashed repeatedly at the metal dome to no avail, screaming in rage.

“Lightning!” Snow yelled, reaching for her.

She stopped. “It’s this thing’s fault the Purge started, and it’s people who are dying. Serah told us to save Cocoon. That means this thing needs to die!”

As if to accept her challenge, lights throughout the room snapped on, and machinery could be heard powering up. Infinitely complex sets of clockwork gears beneath the transparent floor began to turn, and steam vented out from two recessed metal manipulators that extended as the great metal dome cracked open, blinding light pouring out.

The light faded, revealing a set of cables that lifted up, supporting the great crystal heart that powered it. A terrible ringing sound issued forth, reverberating inside all of their minds and blurring their vision. A dozen screens lit up on the walls, cycling through incomprehensible code.

Hope clutched at his ears, trying in vain to block it out, and turned to run. Even the dark hallway had come alive, with sparks jumping between the walls, and a thousand tiny pistons pumping unknown fluids through pipes that ran above him. A crackling field of energy materialized between him and the door, however, and he bounced off it and fell back, his vision filled with the ominous sigil that adorned everything in here.

Vanille ran to him, helping him back to his feet. This wasn’t at all what she had wanted, but she hadn’t had a choice, and there was no way out now.

“Come on, now,” said Sazh. “You really think you can kill a fal’Cie?”

“I’m doing this for Serah,” she simply answered, raising her blade. 

Snow simply put his fists together, charging the AMP in his jacket to its maximum.

As if in response, the code on the screens stopped cycling, all of them going blank at once, displaying only the sigil of Pulse on a background of static.

“Dajh,” whispered Sazh, pulling out his guns. What choice did he have at this point? “I’m in, as long as you don’t mind an amateur. I got these things, I might as well use ‘em.”

“Thanks,” said Lightning, leaping forward and slashing at the cables that supported its heart. Sazh let loose a volley of fire directly at the crystal, the bullets chipping and cracking it in several places. Finally, Snow delivered a massive punch to the weak point the gunfire had created.

The entire room shook, and the spinning metal manipulators thrust forward fast enough to knock Lightning off her feet. Vanille gasped, holding Hope in her arms as he began to cry. The ringing noise grew to a fever pitch, and the five of them were instantly frozen in time, helpless as the manipulators began to grind away at them one by one. This was true magic, terrifying in comparison to the meager replicated spells that manadrive wielders were able to use.

It finally faded, leaving all of them keeled over in pain, bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts. Lightning hurriedly passed out the last of her potions to the others, then jumped on top of the crystal, jamming her blade into the crack and pulling with all her might.

Snow tossed a grenade straight up into the workings of the machine, where it snagged on the support cables. Multicolored liquid poured forth from the cables as it exploded, corroding the gears and pistons everywhere it splashed. The crystal heart began to turn black, the room shuddering once more as the screens on the walls began to flicker on and off.

All around them, the air was charged with static electricity, becoming thick and making movement difficult as if they were underwater. A strange buoyancy coursed through it, all five of them floating slightly upward as the air itself crystallized, both around and inside their bodies. Finally, it shattered, throwing them back to the ground, coughing up blood.

Sazh didn’t know how they survived that, only that a strange healing energy pervaded the room after that, soothing their wounds and knitting the internal injuries that should have killed them. He looked back, but saw only Vanille smiling at him. “Huh?” he wondered, but there were more important things to worry about, as the fal’Cie was powering itself up once more.

“Let’s finish this,” said Lightning. She and Sazh fired relentlessly at the crack in the crystal until the great machine seemed to slow down. “Snow!”

“On it!” he yelled, charging his AMP and rocketing his fist into the damaged spot. More cracks spiderwebbed out in every direction, and the floor began to vibrate. Lightning plunged her blade directly into the wound, piercing the crystal heart straight through.

That was the last coherent thing any of them would remember for a while. There were only blurry, broken images of a huge creature with a thousand arms, large enough to rend Cocoon in two, and Vanille dared not speak its name.

Chapter Text

FIVE

Snow strode up the steps into the Stray Cat Cafe, wondering where Serah could have gotten off to. It was the night of the fireworks festival in Bodhum, and the beach was packed with crowds. Yuj hadn’t seen her for hours, and he was getting worried. He walked up to the bar, but Lebreau was busy with a customer.

“Who did you say you were looking for, again?” Lebreau asked a tall, dark-haired woman with a tattooed arm as she poured her a drink.

“A redheaded girl with pigtails,” the woman replied. “About my age, but her eyes make her look a lot younger.”

“Hmm,” said Lebreau. “Can’t say I remember anyone like that, but we’ve been swamped because of the festival. Oh, Snow!” she said, noticing him. “You just missed her! She said she’d be at the usual place.”

“Thanks,” said Snow.

“Sorry about that,” Lebreau said, turning back to her customer and handing her a cocktail. The woman sighed, taking a drink and looking over at Snow as he walked back out to the beach. She had come this far, and she wasn’t about to give up now. She’d made a promise, and she’d turn Cocoon inside out if she had to.

Outside on the beach, Snow looked up. The fireworks were in full swing, and the faces around him were lit in all the colors of the rainbow as they filled the sky. “Here goes,” he said, taking a deep breath and walking down the boardwalk.

The “usual place” Lebreau had mentioned was Leviathan’s Fountain, a beautiful pavilion at the end of a pier that was a popular place for many couples. Far from the bustle of the main beach, it was quiet tonight, and as Snow approached, he spotted Serah peering out at the water, lost in thought.

“Making a wish?” he asked.

She looked up, surprised but happy to see him. “Maybe I was,” she admitted. “I was hoping that tomorrow I can tell my sister. She’ll be so mad, knowing I hid it from her…”

“Don’t worry,” said Snow, putting his arm around her. “I’ll take the blame for you. You know, you should ask for something bigger! These are wish-granting fireworks, just like in the stories.”

“Stories, huh,” she said, putting her hand over the bandage she wore on her arm. It didn’t hurt anymore, but she didn’t dare let anyone see it. “Like l’Cie who fulfill their Focus becoming crystal and gaining eternal life?”

Snow sighed. “Would help if they gave you some clue about what you’re supposed to do.”

Serah closed her eyes. She knew what she was supposed to do. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Snow, however. It was too horrible to even contemplate.

“We’ll figure this thing out,” he reassured. “You will never be one of those monsters.”

“So what will I be?” she asked, shaking her head. “A crystal?” She began to cry, imagining becoming nothing but a statue, alone for eternity as Snow, Lightning, and everyone she cared about grew old and passed on without her.

“Hey, hey now,” said Snow, reaching to dry her eyes. “Yesterday, at the store, I got us something.” He held up a pair of unusual necklaces, simple chains with pendants that looked like Cocoon being held aloft by a crystal spiral. They had stood out to him immediately, like nothing else they had had for sale. “Limited-edition pieces from the Etro Collection, according to the shopkeeper. Don’t know much about jewelry, but I hope you like it.”

He lovingly fastened one around Serah’s neck, and placed the other on his own. “I will stand by you, no matter what happens,” he said. “I’m yours forever.”

“Thank you,” said Serah, smiling.

“Serah,” he added, slowly kneeling down in front of her. “My one. My only.” He looked up, meeting her gaze. “Will you marry me?”

Instantly, her sorrow was washed away, and she beamed with joy. “Yes!” she said.

Snow hopped up in the air like a kid, unable to contain his feelings. “She said ‘yes!’” he exclaimed to the empty pier, and picked her up into an embrace. “Come on,” he said, walking over to his airbike and gesturing for her to join him.

They lifted off into the sky, soaring over the beach and looping back around to watch the fireworks from the air, reflecting off the water with the Bodhum skyline behind them. Even the presence of the Vestige with the fal’Cie within couldn’t dampen the mood completely, but Serah knew it was watching her.

“Gotta love these fireworks!” said Snow. “They granted my wish!”

“Your wish?” she asked, turning toward him.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “Before I asked you to marry me, I wished that you would say yes.”

“I see,” said Serah. “Then maybe they’ll grant mine too.”

“What’s that?”

“To have the courage to tell Lightning that I’ve become a l’Cie.”

“Hey!” Snow interrupted, smiling. “Our engagement is way bigger news! Oh, man, I can’t wait to see her face.” He paused, realizing the implications of what that meant. “She’ll be my new sister,” he realized.

“Yeah,” laughed Serah. She stared out at the fireworks, enthralled by their beauty as Snow flew them closer. “Aah!” she cried, as they got close enough for the blast to rock Snow’s velocycle.

“Whoops,” Snow said, smiling and pulling them back.

“It’s gorgeous,” Serah told him. “Our own private heaven.”

“All we need,” agreed Snow. “Just you and me.” He pulled her close, kissing her and holding her as a single tear slipped from her eye.

From the beach, the tattooed woman watched them, smiling wistfully. Love was a beautiful thing, she knew, and you had to seize it when you had it, because the next day it could be gone forever. “Wish-granting fireworks, eh?” she said to herself, looking into the sky and making her own wish.

* * *

That was then, however, and this was now. Snow reached out in a panic as he came to, shouting her name to no avail. He looked around, but Serah was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he saw Lightning, along with Sazh, Hope, and Vanille, all slowly waking up in the midst of an impossible sight. “Is this for real?” he asked.

The ground they had awoken on was a tidal wave, frozen in crystal in a single instant with the wreckage of the Vestige at its epicenter. Lightning and Vanille looked around in awe, while Sazh tried to get his bearings. Hope sat with his head in his hands, lost in grief and despair.

“This must be Lake Bresha?” said Sazh, gazing upward to see the Hanging Edge above them. “I guess we fell from up there, and the lake…turned to crystal?” It didn’t make sense, but there was no doubting what he saw. “Help me out here! I mean, did the fal’Cie do this? How in the world did we end up here?”

“How should I know?” snapped Lightning.

“We’re alive,” remarked Vanille, dropping to her knees as she looked out at the Vestige, silent as the grave once more. Anima’s presence was gone completely, the once-powerful fal’Cie now just one more ruined building, all its magic having burst forth at the moment of its death and causing the lake to crystallize. “But how?” she wondered.

“Serah!” said Snow, as if it made total sense. “No one survives a fall from that high, not without a miracle! Serah saved us!”

“Serah?” said Lightning, rolling her eyes. “Listen, Snow. It’s all your fault she got…”

“Hey, hey!” interrupted Sazh, pulling her back as a Cie’th approached from behind her.

“Watch out!” Snow shouted, jumping in front and grappling the Cie’th as it tried to lunge for her. He shoved it back, but before he could even charge his AMP, he felt a pain on his arm. The air grew cold around him, and his hand went numb as he began to throw a punch. Shards of ice shattered from the point of contact where his fist hit the Cie’th, piercing it and breaking its stone body clean in half.

“What did I…just do?” he wondered, looking at his arm as the ice thawed, returning to energy and fading back into a mark that now adorned his arm. No, he realized. Not a mark. A brand.

“You used magic!” shouted Hope, backing away from him. “You used the power of a l’Cie!” In horror, he looked down at a painful spot on his hand, and realized he bore the same brand. The mark of Pulse. “The fal’Cie cursed us! We’re l’Cie now!”

More Cie’th were descending from atop the frozen waves. “Right,” said Lightning, drawing her saber. She felt the pain on her chest, and knew if she looked, she would find a Pulse brand as well. Curse or not, she could tell how much stronger it made her, and this wasn’t the time to worry about that.

With just a thought, a bolt of electricity crackled from Lightning’s brand and into the saber, and she let the high voltage loose into another of the Cie’th, charring it into a smoking wreck. A third Cie’th came at her from behind, and Vanille unfolded the binding rod, using it as a channel for her l’Cie magic and willing the air around it into a tornado that picked it up and smashed it into the ground. No holding back now, she thought.

“So we really are l’Cie,” said Snow, looking at his arm once more.

“Looks like it,” sighed Sazh, pulling down his shirt and noticing the brand on his own skin. Dammit, he thought. This sure complicates things.

“You too?” Snow asked, looking at Vanille.

“Yep,” she said somberly, pulling aside the edge of her skirt to reveal a brand. “Right here.” How many more? she wondered. How many more would be caught in the vortex of ruin she had left in her wake?

“L’Cie to the last,” said Lightning, looking around at the others one by one. First Snow, then Sazh, then Vanille. Finally, Hope, who simply sank to his knees in anguish.

“Why me?” he wondered. First his mother, and now this. As a l’Cie, there was nowhere for him to run. He was an enemy of Cocoon now, and the Sanctum army would hunt him to the end of his days. Even if he stayed ahead of them, he would either have to complete some Focus he didn’t understand, or end up a shambling stone monster.

Vanille looked at him, a tear coming to her eye. The others were strong, she knew, but Hope was only a child. Like the boy at the power plant, she thought. She could do nothing then, and she could do nothing now. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Hope glared at the others. “I don’t even know you people!” he screamed. “But you had to go and attack that thing? Just leave me alone!” His gaze fixed on Snow in particular. “It’s your fault my… You… All of this is your and Serah’s fault!”

“Watch it!” snapped Snow, shoving him. Even his patience had limits, and bringing Serah into this had crossed a line.

“It’s not Serah’s fault,” said Vanille.

Hope backed up, bumping into Lightning. He turned around, catching a glimpse of her harsh gaze and stumbling away in panic. He dropped to the ground once more, holding his head as if to blot out reality.

“Sorry,” said Snow, realizing he had gone too far.

Vanille put her arms around Hope, letting him cry onto her shoulder. “Everything is gonna be all right,” she said. “Come on. Off we go!” She pulled him along with her as the five of them began to wander through the crystal wonderland.

“Welp,” Sazh remarked, shaking his head. “We’re all playing for Team Pulse now.” He had thought killing the fal’Cie would be enough, but things had only gotten worse. Now he was the enemy as well, the one Colonel Nabaat’s task force would be hunting. And with Dajh, he realized, they could hone right in on us. The irony of it all was too much for him to bear. “Well, at least we can trust the soldier to keep her cool through this mess.”

Indeed, Lightning had gone on ahead, but she stopped again as the Vestige came into view once more. “Okay,” she said. “If we don’t know our Focus, how do we complete it?”

“I think I saw it,” said Vanille. She knew Anima would have branded them for one reason alone.

“Saw what?” Lightning asked.

“That’s how a Focus comes down,” said Sazh. “The fal’Cie don’t spell it out with clear-cut instructions. All you get is a hazy glimpse.”

“Hmm,” said Snow, as he and Lightning both looked askance at him. He did seem to know an awful lot about this.

“Well, that’s what they say,” Sazh hastily added. “You know, legends and all.”

“Did you see anything?” Lightning asked, turning to Hope.

“Huh?” he said. It was the first time she had spoken to him, and he was more than a little intimidated by her. “I, uh, it’s all kind of foggy, but I saw this big, I mean towering monster…”

“What?” asked Sazh. “Wait a minute. Hold on now. Did we all have the same dream?”

“Ragnarok,” said Snow and Lightning at the same time, and the mere mention of the word sent shivers down Vanille’s spine. After all she had seen and been through, it was the only thing left that truly frightened her.

“So we did all see the same dream,” Sazh said. “We all heard that same voice.”

The eerie song came back to them all, burned into their memories for eternity. An inhuman voice, singing incomprehensible words that bent the mind.

“Mmhmm,” Vanille agreed, shivering slightly.

“You mean that was our Focus?” asked Hope. “But how are we supposed to know what to do from that?”

“That’s the tricky part,” said Vanille, smiling once more. “The dream’s the only hint the fal’Cie gives us. Figuring out what to do with it…that’s our job.”

“Okay, okay,” said Sazh, trying to understand. “We’re Pulse l’Cie, right? Enemies of Cocoon. So, does that mean our Focus is… Are we supposed to…”

“Save her!” Snow exclaimed.

“Say what?” Sazh asked, cocking his head at Snow.

“Our Focus is to protect Cocoon,” said Snow with certainty.

“Really,” said Vanille, knowing better. “Okay. And, why’s that?”

“Serah told us!” Snow added. “Let’s do it! We’re all in this together. I’m gonna look for Serah; she oughta be nearby.”

So alike, yet so different, thought Vanille. She had seen this behavior before with Fang, and knew Snow had to learn the hard way. “Wait up!” she said, chasing after him as he walked off. “I’ll come too!”

“Sheesh,” said Sazh. “That boy can’t stay still.”

“Really,” Hope agreed.

Lightning was silent, but she too followed Snow. Crystal or not, she wasn’t about to let PSICOM get their hands on Serah.

“I can’t see anything but crystal,” said Vanille as she caught up to Snow. “It’s pretty and all, but it’s kind of creepy too.”

Indeed, the crystalline waves seemed to go on forever, marred only by fallen debris from the Hanging Edge above them. Cie’th dotted the landscape, some keeping to themselves, others attacking and quickly falling to the l’Cies’ new abilities.

“Magic might be cursed,” remarked Snow upon quickly dispatching one of the monsters. “But it makes us stronger, doesn’t it? What’s to stop us from putting it to good use?”

“Hmm,” Lightning remarked, nimbly scrambling up a twisted section of fallen Aerorail track onto another crystal wave. “We still have our free will,” she agreed.

“Then we fight it!” Snow exclaimed. “Ragnarok! That’s the reason we’re l’Cie, to stop it! To keep Cocoon safe.”

“Yeah?” said Sazh, tired of his flights of fancy. “Why don’t you give us one reason to believe that? One reason!”

“Serah,” he simply repeated. “She said to protect Cocoon, and then she turned to crystal. That’s the proof right there! She completed her Focus! That means ours is to save Cocoon.”

“Huh,” Sazh chuckled. “If only.”

“Serah’s fal’Cie was the same as ours!” Snow went on, undeterred. “Our Focus has gotta be the same! We were chosen to be guardians. To defeat Ragnarok!”

Vanille stopped in her tracks. She knew Snow had his head in the clouds, but if he believed he was right, then that would mean… No, she thought. It won’t come to that. It will never come to that.

“It makes sense!” insisted Snow.

“The hell it does,” Sazh grumbled. “You’re grasping at straws, son. Pulse fal’Cie are Cocoon’s enemies! We just got recruited by one of them! If I were a betting man, I’d put us on the other side.”

“So Serah’s an enemy too?” Snow snapped. “Well I don’t buy it! We have the power to save Cocoon! If we work together to complete our Focus…”

“Our Focus?” yelled Lightning, drawing her saber to Snow’s throat. “The fal’Cie took Serah from us, and you want to help it? Whose side are you on?”

“Please, stop!” pleaded Vanille. She couldn’t bear to watch anymore. These people were all in this mess because of her, and for them to turn on each other was more than she could take. “Listen to me. The truth is…”

“Freeze!” came a voice from behind them. While they had been arguing, Lightning realized, PSICOM troops had quietly surrounded them. “Place your hands behind your heads!” yelled the leader, leveling his gun directly at her. Slowly, they complied, with even Lightning dropping her saber to the ground.

“You fall off the Purge train?” he asked.

“Maybe,” snarked Lightning.

“Are you talking back to me?” roared the soldier, shoving his gun directly in her face.

“Nice gun,” she remarked. In an instant, she grabbed it out of his hands, striking him with the barrel hard enough to send him flying into the others.

“Stop her!” yelled another soldier.

In response, she stepped on the edge of the Blazefire Saber, flipping it into the air from where it had landed and catching it. She swung it around, a force shockwave emanating from her brand that scattered the soldiers. Snow punched the air above them, and an ice crystal shattered from his fist, sending deadly shards rocketing into them where they lay.

“Ugh…” one of them groaned as he was impaled, reaching for the gun that had flown from his hand to no avail as he succumbed to his injuries.

“I thought they’d be tougher than that,” remarked Sazh, looking at the carnage. “These guys are PSICOM, right? Supposed to be cream of the crop.”

Vanille kneeled over the dead soldiers, praying for their souls. She knew they would have killed her without hesitation, but could this cycle of death never end?

“Yeah, but PSICOM’s an anti-Pulse task force,” said Snow. Without that one gunship, they would have been nothing compared to NORA’s savvy and guerilla tactics. “They haven’t fought a war in centuries. Bunch of rookie troops swinging around overpriced toys.”

“So, from what you’re telling me,” said Sazh. “It sounds like a regular old soldier, like Lightning here, has got more training than the special forces?”

“Nothing for us l’Cie to be afraid of,” Snow boasted.

“Cut the crap,” spat Lightning. “Their grunts might be green, but PSICOM’s elites are cold-blooded beasts. They hit the field and its game over.”

Sazh nodded, thinking of Nabaat. Cold-blooded was the exact term he would have used to describe her. As he once had, she thought of l’Cie as subhuman. Just Cie’th that hadn’t finished cooking yet.

“Uh oh,” said Vanille. “Then let’s run away. Ciao!” She dashed off, smiling, but the truth was she was less afraid and more weary.

“Hey, wait!” said Sazh. His pet chocobo chick fluttered out of his hair, and he held out his hand to catch it. “What’s a man to do?” he muttered. They walked in silence for nearly an hour, encountering occasional Cie’th and angry wildlife displaced by the lake’s crystallization, but no more soldiers.

“Weird, isn’t it?” Snow finally said. “Of all the messed up ways to meet, eh?” 

It was true they would likely be having to stick together, they all realized. Despite the vastly different backgrounds they came from, they were all fugitives now, literally branded as enemies of the state.

“I’m Snow Villiers,” he continued, waving. “Short stuff?”

Hope glared at him, the nickname adding insult to injury. “Hope Estheim,” he said quietly.

“What about her?” Vanille asked, gesturing at Lightning.

“Bodhum Security Regiment,” Snow explained. “She goes by ‘Lightning,’ as you’ve seen. Last name’s Farron. First? Anybody’s guess.”

“Oerba Dia Vanille, at your service,” she said, smiling.

“That’s an unusual name,” remarked Snow.

“I’m an unusual girl!” she simply said.

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Hmph,” said Sazh. “Sazh Katzroy. Good to meet you.” It was such a normal conversation, one could almost forget the circumstances. Almost. “Ugh, it’s not right,” he said to himself, watching as Vanille skipped off with Hope in tow. “Why do kids have to get dragged into this?” He had no idea how old she was, but she acted more like a child than even Hope did.

“I’ll keep the kids out of trouble,” Snow reassured.

Sazh chuckled, clapping him on the back. “Problem with that is, you’re one of them! Tryin’ to take on the Pulse fal’Cie. That was our first mistake. Should’ve left it to the Sanctum.”

“Hey!” yelled Vanille from twenty yards away, waving at them. “Come on!”

“I mean,” he continued. “We’ve counted on the Sanctum’s fal’Cie for food, water, everything we’ve needed since the time we were born. Why not leave it to them?”

“But you still helped us do it,” Snow pointed out. “Why is that? Gotta be something.”

“There might’ve been,” he admitted, thinking of Dajh. But what the hell was he supposed to do now? “Not so sure anymore.”

“Dammit,” said Snow, noticing a pack of Sanctum bioweapon panthers in the distance. “I guess they’re hunting down Purge survivors now. They really will stop at nothing, won’t they?”

“What did you expect?” Lightning grumbled, climbing atop a fallen traincar and peering out at the crystal water below. She stopped suddenly, her eye caught by one particular crystal formation. “Serah!”

SIX

“Serah!” yelled Snow, seeing her as well, and ran ahead, kneeling in front of her. Somehow, her crystal was intact, despite having fallen from such a height, as if the fal’Cie had willed them all to survive. “I’ll get you out of there!” He grabbed a sharp piece of broken metal from the rubble nearby, swinging it like an ice pick at the crystal in an attempt to dislodge it from the rest of the lake.

“I’ll help you!” said Vanille, as she and Sazh grabbed more scraps and joined in.

Lightning, however, stood back, watching their futile efforts. “This is goodbye,” she said quietly, turning away.

“Lightning?” asked Snow, astonished. “You’re just gonna leave her?”

“PSICOM will be here soon,” she said, her mouth set in a grim line. “If they find us, we’re all dead. You think Serah’d want that?”

“But…”

“You think you know how she feels?”

“If I leave her,” said Snow, “then I’ll never know. We’ll be fine. I can handle anything they throw at us. No one will die.”

Hope growled, clenching his fists, but couldn’t bring himself to form the words he so desperately wanted to say.

“I’ll protect Serah,” Snow insisted. “And Cocoon!”

Lightning turned around, walking quietly toward him and stopping. She reared back, punching him to the floor once again. “Does she look protected to you?”

“I can save her!” repeated Snow, getting up only to have her strike him once more as Vanille cried out in shock.

“What can you possibly do?” Lightning screamed. Serah was dead, and nothing he said or did was going to bring her back.

“Whatever it takes!” he shouted. She clenched her fist again, but slowly lowered it.

“You two are hopeless,” said Sazh, shaking his head. “You just won’t admit it, but you want to stay as much as he does.”

She knew it was true. Even if Serah was never coming back, that crystal was all she had left of her, and the idea of letting PSICOM get hold of it turned her stomach. There wasn’t much time to contemplate, however, as a searchlight already shone down from above.

“No, not now!” screamed Sazh, backing away. A massive warmech identical to the one that had attacked the Purge train appeared over the horizon. No, he noticed as it got closer. Not identical. It was the same one, its shell heavily damaged from the fall and its saw-wielding arms missing, but it had never lost their scent, and now it was back for round two. It roared overhead, coming to a landing directly in front of them and narrowly missing crushing Hope.

“Stand back,” said Snow, running to shield the others. He barely needed his AMP anymore, he realized, letting the power of his brand build and hardening his skin as if he were already crystal, standing strong as the machine slammed its steel tail directly into him with enough force to kill an ordinary human outright. “I can take it,” he said as the impact knocked him back, but he remained on his feet.

“Leave us alone!” Vanille cried, channelling forth a burst of fire that engulfed the mech whole, causing it to stagger backwards as its vital systems overheated. Ignoring the flames, Lightning rushed forth, firing a barrage of bullets at its weak points from the first battle.

It raised its tail again, this time releasing a flechette of crystal needles at her. Snow jumped toward her to try and block them, but it was too late, and Lightning fell backward, covered in blood from a thousand pinpricks.

“No!” shouted Vanille. I won’t let any more die because of me! she thought; the combined power of her empathy and her brand letting her knit Lightning’s flesh back together.

Sparks issued forth from a jagged hole in the mech’s armor, however, and Snow conjured forth a spear of ice that he thrust into the gash. The machine reared back, its logic circuits malfunctioning as the ice severed the neuroelectric pathways that served as its brain. 

It wobbled slightly, the searchlight swinging in drunken arcs as it suffered a critical breakdown. Then, almost anticlimactically, the machine fell still, its systems shutting down one by one until it was nothing but a lifeless chunk of twisted scrap metal.

Lightning waited for nearly a whole minute, making sure it was truly dead, then turned and began walking without a word.

“You’re leaving?” sputtered Snow. 

The others looked at each other, but one by one, each of them began to follow her. “We want to help Serah too,” said Sazh. “But without proper tools, we could be digging for days. The army’s on our trail, so for now, we’ve got to keep moving. Just for now.”

“So I just abandon her and save myself?” Snow yelled.

“What about your supposed ‘Focus?’” said Lightning. “What happened to banding together and saving the world? Isn’t that what you promised? Now you wanna forget it all and die right here?”

“But…” Snow started.

“Snow,” she continued. “You’re nothing but talk.” She walked off again.

“Lightning!” he called after her. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll finish this Focus, and keep Serah safe. That’s my promise.”

“Great job so far,” she simply said.

“Ahh,” sighed Sazh.

“Stay out of trouble,” Snow said, knowing he would be going it alone. Serah was everything to him, and if he truly did have to die trying to save her, then he would.

“You too,” Sazh said, following Lightning.

“Snow…” said Vanille.

“Get going,” he said, smiling.

“Sometimes you can’t do both,” she continued. Fang had tried, and Vanille had been left alone because of that decision. 

“I have to try,” he insisted.

“Okay.” She put her hand on his arm, sighing. He had to learn the hard way. “Come on, Hope,” she said, walking away with the others.

Hope began to follow, but stopped, gathering his courage. “Snow,” he started to say.

“Save it for next time, kiddo,” said Snow. “You’ll get left behind.”

“But…”

“It’s okay, Hope. Light’ll take care of you. We’ll meet again.”

Hope looked over at Lightning in the distance, cold and distant as ever. She doesn’t take care of anyone, he thought. Snow was right about one thing, though. They would meet again. He would make sure of that. “Count on it,” he said, rushing to keep up with the others, and with that, Snow was left alone.

“I’ll get you out of there,” he said to Serah, and resumed digging.

* * *

“Maybe we shouldn’t have left him on his own,” Vanille said several hours later. Snow was tough, but if he was killed, it would be yet another lost life on her conscience.

“Guess all we can do is pray he makes it out okay,” said Sazh.

“Guess so,” mused Vanille. She had made the choice to leave him as well, though. “I should have stayed…” She closed her eyes, not sure herself if she meant she should have stayed with Snow, or she should have stayed when Fang had left her behind at the power plant. So many things might have turned out differently…

“Shh!” Lightning said, stopping suddenly. “Get down!” A squadron of Sanctum jets roared overhead, and she looked over the edge of a frozen wave at a chilling sight.

The Palamecia, the enormous Sanctum flagship that had been tasked with transporting the Vestige, had landed on the surface of the lake. Three entire platoons of soldiers had gathered, forming ranks and preparing to move out.

“They’re sending out cruisers now?” remarked Sazh, peering out at the scene. “Primarch must be sweating bullets, mobilizing ships like that.”

“I hope everyone made it out okay,” said Vanille.

“So do I,” Sazh agreed. “But nowhere is safe for them now. Dammit! Just because they shared a neighborhood with a fal’Cie, they get treated like Pulse-tainted rats.”

“People really hate Pulse, don’t they,” said Vanille, tears in her eyes. 

“Not hate,” Sazh explained. “More like fear. Tens of millions of people, all scared of Pulse boogeymen. They’d be shakin’ in their beds every night if they knew that l’Cie like us were around.”

They had a right to be afraid, Vanille knew. The War of Transgression was ancient history now, but the scars were everywhere. The entire lake and the empty ruins of the metropolis above them stood as ever-present testimony to the true power of l’Cie; a region a hundred square miles across completely abandoned due to the crack in Cocoon’s shell.

Still, it hadn’t been l’Cie killing all those people during the Purge. “But they Purged that entire town!” she said, unable to understand how people could turn on their own so easily.

“It’s crazy, I know,” he said. “But the Sanctum fal’Cie did nothing to stop it.” It hadn’t even been a day since the announcement of the Pulse fal’Cie’s discovery before the Primarch had suddenly ordered the Purge, a draconian law unlike any he had previously passed. “Up until now, Eden’s always stepped in to correct the Sanctum’s errors in judgment. Guess humans just aren’t worth the effort anymore.”

“L’Cie are not human,” Hope growled.

“Listen, you,” snapped Vanille. “That’s enough!” She grabbed his arm, pulling back the fabric of his sleeve to reveal the brand on his wrist. “We’re still alive, and we stick together, all right?” 

She may have made mistakes in the past, but she was determined to do things right this time. How could she have stopped all the people of Cocoon from turning on each other, however, if she couldn’t even keep the four of them from doing the same? “Whatever the Sanctum thinks of us,” she continued, “we have each other to rely on! Right?”

“Right,” said Sazh.

A roaring noise came from above, and an entire squadron of Sanctum cruisers flew overhead. They were smaller than the Palamecia, but each one was still plenty big in its own right.

“They’re sealing off the area!” Lightning said. “Trying to trap the stragglers. We’ve gotta get moving before we’re caught in the net! Come on!” She took off running as one of the cruisers circled around to land near their position. “This way!” she said, scrambling up a nearly-sheer cliff face of solid crystal without looking back.

“Dammit,” Sazh said, clambering up after her. “I’m getting too old for this. Grab my hand!” He reached down, helping Vanille and Hope up, then sprinted to catch up.

They ran for several more minutes as the cruisers landed across the area, finally stopping at another cliff high above where they could keep an eye on the soldiers’ movements.

“Oh man,” Sazh said, panting. “You think we’re safe here?”

“For now,” said Lightning, still vigilant.

“Wow!” Vanille exclaimed as she got her first look at the view. “This whole place is crystal!”

“I wonder what it would be like,” mused Sazh. “To become a crystal, I mean.”

“Hm,” Vanille said. “You’re gonna complete your Focus?”

“Maybe,” he said, throwing up his hands. “If I knew what it was. I probably don’t want to know.”

No one ever does, thought Vanille. One thing still bothered her, however. Each and every one of them had seen the vision of Ragnarok, yet Serah, despite being branded by Anima as well, had turned to crystal as soon as the five of them had been assembled. How was that possible? “Hey Lightning,” she asked. “Did Serah ever say anything to you about her Focus?”

Lightning clenched her fists just remembering the exchange that had gone down when Serah had first told her. “Nothing,” she admitted.

“Aw, you know what,” Vanille said, trying in vain to cheer her up. “She probably just didn’t want to worry you!”

“Or she didn’t think she could trust me,” she said.

“Oh…I’m sorry,” Vanille apologized. 

“Listen, there’s no reason to be all negative…” Sazh tried to say, but Lightning had already begun walking once more. “Damn, that girl doesn’t stop. Better follow her, you two.”

They descended the other side of the frozen wave they had climbed, finally arriving at the lake’s shore. Lining the shore was another ruined structure, this one appearing even older than the Hanging Edge, and they entered cautiously.

“Even the flames turned to crystal,” remarked Sazh, as the fires that had broken out when the Vestige fell were also frozen in time, still glowing and giving off a faint warmth, but otherwise inert.

“Look!” Lightning pointed to a massive door set into the rock face behind the structure. “One of the restricted zone’s access points.”

“Then it’s a way out, right?” Vanille asked.

“Yeah,” Sazh agreed. “But what is this place? Something’s making the hairs on my neck stand up…” They hadn’t encountered any troops for a long time, and he couldn’t help but feel they were walking into a trap.

“You’ve got to stop worrying, Sazh!” reassured Vanille. “We outran them. We’ll be okay now!”

“Mmhmm,” said Sazh as they climbed a stone staircase to what seemed to be the plaza of an ancient city. He’d been all over Cocoon in his career, and he’d never seen anything like this before. The door leading out of the restricted zone was just beyond, but this had been way too easy.

“Wow!” said Vanille, darting ahead. Giant colonnades lined the crumbling street, overgrown with plant life, flanked by more fires that had frozen into crystal.

“Stay close,” Lightning said, on high alert. She, too, knew something was wrong. PSICOM should have been on top of them an hour ago.

“I wanna look around!” Vanille exclaimed, scampering around the corner and out of sight.

Lightning sighed, her shell beginning to crack just enough that she was starting to worry. “Vanille, don’t!” She started to give chase, but froze as she heard a noise. Something was honing in on their position, but she couldn’t tell what or from where it was coming.

A scream rang out through the plaza. “Vanille!” cried Hope, reaching out as she came running back from the next street. In hot pursuit was a Sanctum bioweapon; an electrified wyvern much like the one that had been deployed at the Purge train.

It rammed into the crystalline fire, releasing the energy trapped within and knocking Vanille to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted toward the others, hiding behind Sazh as the monster flapped its metallicized wings and gave chase.

“Help me!” she shrieked, knowing she would have no chance on her own.

“Garuda-class interceptor,” Lightning said. “Stay sharp!”

It generated a blast of static-charged wind with its wings, knocking them all to the ground. Sazh scrambled back to his feet, siphoning flames from his brand and imbuing his bullets with them as he fired. Lightning lifted her hand, forming a sphere of gravity so intense it bent the light around it, and flung it at the creature.

It roared, circling around and gathering electricity in its wings once more. “It’s charging up,” Lightning warned.

“Charging?” Sazh asked. “What are you talking about? Charging for what?”

“Its last moments,” she declared. “Vanille, short it out!”

Vanille picked herself off the ground, unfolding her binding rod and closing her eyes. The ambient moisture in the air began to gather around the staff, forming into a bubble of super-dense water that she sent flying at it. 

Instantly, the electrical pathways bolted into its wings were connected, bridging every circuit in its implants at once. It flopped to the ground, and Lightning leapt on top of it, slicing clean through its body and leaving it twitching uselessly on the floor.

“Everyone okay?” she asked. They all nervously nodded. That was still too easy, she thought, on alert for another attack.

“Check it out!” giggled Vanille however, pointing. A small airship sat parked on the street behind where they had fought the creature, as if left there just for them.

“Hmph,” Lightning remarked, noticing it. “No, this is all wrong. This has to be a setup.” The ship was unmarked, however, and appeared to be completely unguarded. She approached gingerly, her saber drawn, but the ambush she expected failed to materialize.

“Come on then,” said Sazh. “Hop to it, let’s go.”

“Look!” said Vanille, pointing again. A small, silvery owl-like bird was perched on the ship’s wing. “It’s a good omen!” She had seen a bird like that twice before, and indeed it had always been right before a stroke of good luck. “This’ll make things easier!”

“Yeah, knowing our luck, it’s probably missing an engine,” muttered Sazh.

“You shouldn’t be so negative,” she admonished.

“And you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Lightning hesitated, but relented, following them as they climbed aboard. “Check the power core,” she said. “Make sure it’s not rigged to blow.”

“Already did,” Sazh reassured from the pilot’s seat. “Strap in everybody, because Katzroy Airlines is ready for take-off.”

SEVEN

Two hours after his fellow l’Cie had left him behind, Snow was still digging. He had made a little progress, but Serah’s crystal was still firmly stuck in the surface of the lake. He had put on a good show of bravado for the others, but the truth was he had never felt more alone in his life. In that moment, he was no longer Serah’s hero, nor the fearless leader of NORA that had promised to protect his fellow citizens from the Purge. 

Now, he was once more the lonely young orphan growing up on the streets of Bodhum without a gil to his name. Several times he had been taken in by the authorities and passed off to a neverending string of neglectful foster homes, each one worse than the last, until he had simply run away and learned to survive on his own, finally meeting like-minded fellow orphans Gadot and Lebreau and joining together to form NORA.

Those darkest of times in his past had forged him into the man he was today, who wielded optimism and hope as his shield when it felt like he simply could not go on. Lightning’s parting words, however, had cracked that shield. How could he be so sure that things wouldn’t go awry? He had also promised the Purge victims that everything would be alright, and dozens had died for his bluster.

Even Vanille had tried to warn him. “Sometimes you can’t do both,” she had said, her face pained as if she was speaking from personal experience. She seemed so young, but there was a wisdom about her that belied her age. Never mind, he thought. He would just have to prove them all wrong. He dug the makeshift pick back into the crystal, pulling with all his might, then stopped as the sound of jets filled the air. A squadron of fighters passed, followed by three gunships, one of their searchlights pausing on him.

Guess it’s showtime, he thought, standing up. “You gonna lend me a hand, or what?” he yelled, gesturing at the incoming fleet. In response, a gravity AMP dropped from the lead gunship, and a platoon of soldiers jumped forth, surrounding him in an instant. “Rraagh!” he cried, throwing the scavenged pick full force into the chest of the leader.

He crumpled back into the others, and Snow leapt into the air, landing on them with a shockwave of ice. The survivors stumbled back, leveling their guns at him as another wave dropped from the airships. He scattered another dozen of them, determined to prove himself capable of being Serah’s protector, but they kept on coming, and his steadfast resolve could only keep him alive for so long. 

Maybe Lightning was right after all, he thought. I’m going to die here. He stumbled to the ground as a never-ending hail of bullets began to chip away at his crystal-hard skin. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the last of his store of potions, and cracked it open. Even as the restorative liquid flowed over his skin to fill in his wounds, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. It took all his focus just to maintain his defense as a third wave of troops took up position and opened fire.

From atop the crystal swell, Oerba Yun Fang watched and waited. She recognized Snow immediately from the night in Bodhum; he had been the one flying recklessly around in the fireworks with his lover. She smiled slightly, knowing she probably would’ve done the same. So he’s a l’Cie now, she thought. And if he had been in the Vestige, she knew there was a good chance he would know where to find Vanille.

“Dammit!” said Rygdea, as his Cavalry troops caught up to her. “Looks like PSICOM found him first. Prepare to engage!”

“Wait,” Fang said, stopping him. The soldiers had overwhelmed Snow, and she knew he wouldn’t hold out much longer, but she noticed his brand had begun to glow an intense icy blue, and magic was radiating off of him in waves.

“He’s been hit!” Rygdea exclaimed. “We have to help him!”

“Hold your chocobos, Rygdea,” she said, as a bubble of energy began to form between Snow and the soldiers he faced down, strange sigils appearing within. “That’s an Eidolon. We can’t interfere.”

“What’s he doing?” one of the PSICOM troops asked, and they began to back away as the bubble expanded and an unnatural chill filled the air. “Stay alert!”

The bubble hardened into ice as Snow stood up, stepping back as well. He hadn’t had l’Cie magic for very long, and this new phenomenon was not under his control. What the hell? he wondered. The ice shattered, knocking the soldiers back, and from within emerged two figures like nothing Snow had ever seen.

They were humanoid, and feminine in appearance, but they were also partly mechanical, with wheel-like protrusions from their hair, their blue metallic bodies emblazoned with lettering in an inscrutable language that hurt Snow’s eyes just to look at. More fal’Cie? he wondered. No, there was something different about them. They bore an unsettlingly powerful presence as Anima had, but there was no malice there, just a sense of profound curiosity.

They danced through the air, commanding the attention of Snow and his enemies alike, until one of them removed the wheel from her hair and threw it like a chakram at the soldiers. A cutting gale of ice whipped around it as it flew, and the entire platoon collapsed to the ground instantly.

“What’s happening?” Snow wondered aloud. Just as he was wondering if he should thank them, however, the strange figures turned their attention to him. The darker-colored one reached her hand out to Snow, and he felt a terrifying chill as she ripped his soul clean from his body.

The world went blurry, his heart pounding in his ears, as he felt reality slipping away with each passing second. He forced himself to look the two figures in the eyes, realizing that if they had wanted to kill him outright they would have done so already. This was a test, he understood. He had made so many claims and promises, and these entities were here to see if he could truly follow through.

The magic from his brand still worked, and Snow channeled it into his skin as the lighter-colored one took her wheel and gracefully pirouetted around, slamming it into his legs and launching him into the sky with it. She snapped her fingers, and the wheel spun at dizzying speeds, grinding at his skin and pushing the limits of his defensive abilities.

He plummeted to the ground, picking himself up again. “Alright, you wanna play rough?” he asked. “Come on! Try that again!”

As if in approval, the darker-colored one snapped her fingers, causing his wounds to instantly heal. He hardened his skin once more, steeling himself for the speed at which her attacks came. This time, he stayed on his feet as the wheel hit him. He had to take the punishment, he knew, if he was going to have a chance of being able to save Serah and protect Cocoon.

The wheel hit him over and over again, tearing at his skin as ice crystals formed on the wounds, causing unimaginable pain. Snow forced himself to stay standing, however, and over and over the other one would heal him. He shivered with the intense cold as the world continued to fade away, yet even as he nearly fainted, he stood fast. 

After what seemed like an interminable time, the two beings finally looked at each other, seemingly satisfied. The dark blue figure looked back at Snow, then snapped her fingers again. Instantly, his soul poured back into his body, leaving him gasping for air. 

“What now?” he asked. In response, the two figures lifted into the air, spinning around and interlocking their arms and legs to form an old-fashioned motorcycle. Giddy from adrenaline, Snow grinned like a little kid, and hopped on. “Oh yeah!” he exclaimed, gunning the bike’s engine and spinning it around, leaving tire tracks of solid ice. Whatever they were, it seemed he had earned their favor.

He stepped off, and the bike vanished into glowing blue energy, becoming a small crystalline heart that floated into his brand as if none of it had ever happened. Completely spent, he finally collapsed onto the ground.

“The Twin Sisters, Nix and Stiria,” came Fang’s heavily-accented voice as she strode over to where he lay. “Otherwise known as Shiva, the Eidolon of ice. I’ve got to hand it to you for mastering those two, but I wouldn’t gloat just yet.” She stood over him, drawing her double-ended lance of crimson and pointing it right at his face. “There might come a time you wish you’d let them end it, and made things easy.”

Snow picked himself up, blinking his eyes to force them to focus on the strange woman. From behind her, the Cavalry troops slowly began to surround him. “More of you, huh?” he muttered. These soldiers were obviously not PSICOM, and they seemed to be under her command, but they still had their weapons trained on him. “You’re not Sanctum,” he pointed out, noticing the unusual, fur-trimmed blue sari she wore and the distinctive tattoo on her arm.

“We have an arrangement,” Fang simply said, crossing her arms.

“Wait a minute,” Snow said, noticing the mark on her other shoulder. A Pulse brand, just like his, only hers was white instead of black. “You too? Why are you helping them?”

“If I were you,” she said, “I’d worry about myself.” At this point, she wasn’t interested in exchanging pleasantries. Either he knew where to find Vanille, or he didn’t. “He’s a l’Cie,” she told the soldiers. “Take him.”

“Back off,” Snow warned.

Fang had seen a lot of bluster from a lot of men in her life. Men who had tried to take Vanille from her, men who had tried to force her into arranged marriages, and after she had bared her teeth and shown them just who she was, men who had forced her to fight their war for them. Snow was nothing.

She strode right up to him. “You want to keep breathing?” she asked, grabbing him by the chin. “Shut up and come quiet.” She decked him in the temple, knocking him instantly unconscious. “Get him in the ship,” she said to Rygdea.

EIGHT

Snow came to in the brig of a Sanctum cruiser, rubbing his forehead where the strange woman had struck him, noticing a painful bump. And I thought Lightning was strong, he mused to himself. He peered out of the cell, noticing the soldiers wore Guardian Corps uniforms. Certainly never heard of the GC operating out of ships like this.

One of the guards had noticed him wake up, and within minutes, Fang stood outside his cell. “Couldn’t run if you wanted to,” she said.

“Hmph,” Snow said. “So what gives? You are a l’Cie, right? Why are you working with the Sanctum?”

“Like I told you,” she answered. “We have an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” wondered Snow. “Looked to me like you were in charge. What kind of arrangement gives a Pulse l’Cie the run of a Sanctum airship? Just who are you?” 

“You can call me Fang,” she said, deactivating the cell’s force field. “Come on.”

“Okay,” said Snow, following her into the corridor outside. He was still handcuffed.

“We’ll be docking with the Lindblum soon,” she said, leading him to the ship’s bridge. “Cid’ll explain everything.”

Snow peered out the windows. They were obviouly miles from Lake Bresha, high above the ground, and surrounded by a fleet of smaller planes. The roar of an engine could be heard even from within the bridge as a massive cruiser made its way out from behind a cloud, slowly extending its docking bay.

“Oh, man!” Snow said with glee as he got a good look at it. “Look at you! Wonder what’s under the hood of that thing?”

Boys and their toys, thought Fang, shaking her head. “Keep your pants on. You’ll get a peek soon enough. Just try and behave.”

“I’m not gonna make any promises,” warned Snow.

“Cheeky boy, aren’t ya?” said Fang. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Commencing docking protocol in 3, 2, 1,” said Rygdea, manipulating the ship’s helm crystal to bring them around. A holographic guideway appeared in the air outside, and he maneuvered the smaller vessel right under the belly of the beast. The deck shuddered slightly as the docking clamps engaged.

“Off we go,” said Fang, leading him out into the Lindblum’s docking bay, a squadron of soldiers falling in behind her.

“He’s come to meet you,” one of them told her.

“Hmph,” she said. Cid could kiss her ass as far as she was concerned, as long as he continued to hold his end of the bargain.

The soldiers saluted as an imposing man in a commander’s uniform descended the stairs onto the landing deck. “You must be Snow,” he said, holding out his hand. “Cid Raines, Brigadier General of the Fleet.”

Snow held up his cuffed hands, rolling his eyes. “Hi Cid. Thanks for the escort.”

“Apologies,” said Cid. Behind him floated a group of worker droids, carrying Serah’s crystal onto the deck. “I just had a few questions to ask you. If it works like they tell us, that means she must have completed her Focus.”

“Serah!” cried Snow, lunging forward only to have Fang shove him roughly back.

“Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head at him.

“Fulfilled her Focus as a tainted Pulse l’Cie, that is,” Cid went on.

“You think she was out to hurt Cocoon?” Snow yelled.

“I’d hardly be alone if I did,” Cid replied. “After all, when it comes to Pulse, who could claim to know anything? I need the truth, for the sake of Cocoon.”

“‘The sake of Cocoon?’” he spat. “We’re from Cocoon. Shipping us out? Purging innocent people? That’s how you lend us a hand?”

“Those are the Sanctum’s methods,” admitted Cid. “The public fears what it doesn’t know. People have grown tired of living in constant terror of these threats from the world below. So the Sanctum devised a plan for you l’Cie.”

“I’ll bet,” growled Snow.

“A public execution,” Cid said. “The people don’t know any better. Strike down the phantoms before their eyes, and they sleep like babes.”

“No!” he roared, shoving two of the soldiers out of the way  as he charged at Cid. In an instant, Fang’s boot met his chin at high velocity, and he fell back.

“Didn’t I tell you to behave?” she said.

“The Sanctum has intelligence on the other l’Cie already,” continued Cid. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“You’ll never catch them!” Snow roared.

“I see,” he said. “We’ll need your help then, won’t we?” With that, he walked off.

“I’ll never help you,” he spat, climbing to his feet.

“Come with me,” said Fang, softening her demeanor slightly as the soldiers left the two of them alone. “Don’t mind Cid, he takes some getting used to. You wanted to know why I’m here? I’m looking for a l’Cie.”

“Well, congratulations,” snarked Snow. “You found one.”

“Someone specific,” she added, unlocking his handcuffs and leading him into the corridor. “You’re gonna help me find her.”

“Why, so they can execute us all? What the hell are you doing working for these people?”

“You think I work for Cid?” she laughed. “That man raises a finger against my Vanille, and I kick him so hard he goes flying right out the airlock of his own ship.”

“You know Vanille?” Snow asked.

“You’ve seen her?” she demanded. “Where?”

“Lake Bresha,” said Snow. “But we got separated. She was with the others, but they could be anywhere by now. Why, though? Who is she?”

“The love of my life,” admitted Fang, sliding back a door and leading Snow into the chamber where Serah’s crystal had been stowed. “Now do you trust me?”

“Serah,” said Snow, standing over the crystal.

“You’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you?” Fang asked. “We’re the same, you and I. I made a mistake, and I left Vanille all alone. I need to find her so I can make things right.”

“Make things right…” Snow said, thinking back to the events of a week prior.

* * *

Lightning’s birthday was in six days, Snow knew as he reeled in shock, simply staring at Leviathan’s Fountain, then back at Serah, beautiful in the golden sunset lighting. Could this have something to do with that? he wondered. Had Lightning put her foot down? “You’re kidding, right?” he asked her.

“I mean it,” insisted Serah, turning and walking away down the pier.

“You can’t just drop the breakup bomb like that,” he said, following her. “I mean, being alone’s all right, I guess. Always was…until we met. But then we did, and now I know there’s something better. Being with you. We’ve come too far to quit now!”

“It’s not your choice!” she shouted, turning to face him. This was the last thing she wanted, but it wasn’t her choice either anymore. She had no more choices left.

“You really wanna leave me?” Snow asked.

“I don’t want to,” she admitted. “But I have to. Listen, it’s over. Please! Just…stay away from me.”

“What happened?” implored Snow. Everything had seemed fine yesterday, and this had come out of nowhere. He felt he at least deserved the truth. “If it was something I did, just say it!”

Serah stopped, tears coming to her eyes. If she couldn’t tell Snow, her hero, who could she tell? Certainly not her sister, who would probably turn her in to the Sanctum as soon as she found out. “Okay,” she acquiesced, slowly removing the bandage on her arm and revealing the fal’Cie’s mark. “Look.”

“No…” Snow said, unable to believe his eyes.

“Branded by Pulse,” she confirmed, sobbing. “I’m a l’Cie. Enemy of Cocoon. Danger to us all. Get it now?”

“No,” repeated Snow, falling to his knees and staring at the cobblestones of the pier.

“You’re my enemy,” continued Serah. “Goodbye.” She turned and ran, cursing her own damn curiosity. What the hell had she thought was gonna be inside a Pulse Vestige, anyway? Rainbows and unicorns? It’s not like the old ruin hadn’t given her the creeps before she had found its door mysteriously open, and it certainly still had that day.

She had gone in anyway, though, despite knowing better. Even then, if she had just turned around upon seeing the fresh campsite and strange artifacts strewn about the main hall, none of this would have happened. Instead, she had continued, some strange force egging her on until she had reached the top floor, and saw it.

Snow punched the ground, realizing she had run out of sight in the few moments he had been crying. “Serah!” he shouted, taking off after her. “Where are you?” he called out, looking around the beach to no avail. All around, people were carrying on as if nothing had happened, playing in the surf and throwing frisbees with their dogs, oblivious to his personal drama and the danger to them all that it entailed.

“Dammit,” he muttered, climbing the steps into the Stray Cat Cafe. Hopefully Lebreau had seen Serah go by, he thought, because there was no sign of her within.

“What’s with the long face?” she asked him. “You and Serah have a fight?”

He sighed, not in the mood to share. “Something like that,” he finally admitted. “Have you seen her around?”

“Nope,” said Lebreau. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but if you get that upset just talking about breaking up, it’s no wonder it happened.”

“I’m not upset,” he lied. He knew Lebreau could be blunt, but this was harsh even for her. “And we didn’t break up. I just…need to talk to her.”

“Then what are you doing moping around here?” she pushed. “Go find that girl of yours and tell her what you need to tell her! I’ll throw you guys a romantic dinner when you inevitably make up,” she added, smiling.

“Yeah,” he sighed, wandering onto the patio, where Yuj and Gadot sat.

“Can you believe PSICOM had a security checkpoint set up on the way to Eden?” Yuj complained as he walked in. “Apparently there was some kind of ‘accident’ at the Euride Gorge power plant?”

“Huh,” Snow muttered. As leader of NORA, he knew he should be caring more about what PSICOM was up to, especially if there was a Pulse fal’Cie lurking around, but he was too preoccupied to care right now. “Maybe you should stick to shopping at home,” he said bluntly. “Have you seen Serah?”

“No,” Gadot replied. “Just a couple of girls in weird clothes hanging around over by the Vestige. Um, Snow?” he asked as his boss walked away absent-mindedly. “Damn, what the hell’s gotten into him? Takes a lot to knock him down, but he sure hits the bottom when something does. Been like that ever since he was a little squirt.”

“Give him some space, Gadot,” said Yuj. “Girl trouble.”

Snow walked back onto the beach, finally spotting Serah at the end of the small fishing pier across from the cafe. She was still crying, and he ran to her, calling her name. 

“What is your Focus?” he asked her, taking her hand. “L’Cie have a Focus, right? I’ll go with you! Help you do it. Just let me.”

“No,” she cried, pulling her hand back. “If you’re with me, the Sanctum will…”

“I will be with you!” he insisted. “No matter what! We’ve come too far to quit now.”

“I don’t know,” admitted Serah, sobbing once again. “I don’t know my Focus. I’m gonna be a monster!”

“Not if I’m here,” Snow reassured. “I’ll protect you. We’ll figure this out! We’ll do it together, okay?”

“Okay,” she finally said, letting him embrace her. She didn’t believe there was anything even he could do to keep her from becoming a Cie’th, but at least they could spend the time they had by each other’s side. “Hey Snow?” she asked, looking him in the eye. “If its true what they say…”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“When we’re finished, I’ll turn to crystal,” she continued.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured once more. “When l’Cie complete their Focus, they’re blessed with the gift of eternity. They wouldn’t call it eternity if you died. You’ll see.” They embraced once more, and he ran his fingers lovingly through her hair. “You and me, we’ll always be together.”

* * *

Fang looked pensive as Snow finished telling her what had happened. She had so much to make up for, she knew. I’ll protect you. We’ll do it together. You and me, we’ll always be together. As if the man had taken the words right from her mouth. She looked down at Serah’s crystal. Whatever the girl’s Focus had been, she had completed it, and Cocoon still stood. Maybe it could be the same for Vanille.

She had read Snow’s Sanctum dossier; although the backgrounds they had come from couldn’t be more different, in a lot of ways, she and him couldn’t be more alike. They were both orphans, raised in an uncaring system, both had become brash, defiant warriors with little tolerance for authority, and both would do anything to protect the women they loved. She took a deep breath, and decided to tell Snow everything.

NINE

Sazh pulled back the throttle of the mysterious airship, more than ready to get the hell out of this war zone. No sooner had he taken off, however, than gunfire began to pelt the hull as PSICOM jets honed in on their position.

He was confident in his skills, but he was a civilian pilot, and had never had to dodge fighter planes before. Keeping the yoke steady, he flew straight for the great door and the tunnel beyond it that led to the rest of Cocoon. Searchlights shone down from the distance, and heavy cannon blasts began to rocket at him as a fleet of gunships came into view trying to blockade the exit.

“Aah” screamed Vanille and Hope together as the G-forces pushed them back into their seats.

“Oh, no!” yelled Sazh, twisting the yoke back and forth as he tried to evade them.

“Gimme that!” snapped Lightning, grabbing onto the yoke. This ship may have been unmarked, but it was identical to the Sanctum’s scout vessels, and she knew it was not unarmed. She switched it to tactical mode, firing its guns at the blockade and blasting one of the enemy ships out of the sky.

“Hey!” Sazh yelled, taking control back and rolling the ship to the left as debris fell around them. “I’m the pilot here!”

“Did we get them?” asked Vanille as Sazh was forced to circle back.

“We got one of them,” Lightning clarified.

Hope twisted in his seat, seeing the entire squadron of fighters in their wake. “They’re still behind us!” he screamed.

“Stop that!” growled Sazh as Lightning took hold of the yoke again, feinting them back and forth among the ruined buildings along the lake’s edge. Explosions rocked the ship as they narrowly missed crashing over and over. “Hey! I said stop!” He shoved her hands away, and pointed the ship up, rocketing them through the tunnel toward the daylight beyond. “You wanna die?”

“How are you gonna lose them?” yelled Hope.

“You got me, kid,” said Sazh, his heart pounding. The tunnel had become a narrow slot canyon, and it was all he could do to not crash into its walls as bullets and missiles streaked past on all sides.

“Then let me!” Lightning insisted.

“No, thank you,” refused Sazh. She may have been unstoppable in a fight on the ground, but she was no pilot. Finally, the canyon opened up, and they soared into the open sky.

“Wow!” Vanille said breathlessly, looking out at the sight. It was her first time seeing Cocoon’s interior from the air like this, and she could see everything, from the distant landmasses on the far wall to the floating city of Eden and its spiderweb of Aerorail tracks leading to every corner of the world.

The ship shook once again, gunfire visible through the cockpit windows. “Agh!” cried Sazh. “They’re still on us?” Two fighters zoomed by, way too close for comfort, and the shuddering grew more intense as an alarm sounded from the control console. “We’re taking hits!”

You got this, he said to himself, scanning the ground below them. They were helpless in the open air, and he dived toward the ground, pulling up at the last second and skimming the ship along the surface of the Euride River, the gorge walls and tangles of power lines providing them with a little bit of much-needed cover.

It was the last place he wanted to revisit, but it forced their pursuers to back off as blasts hit the water around them, splashing onto the windshield as they passed through fal’Cie Kujata’s power facilities. “Come on, gimme a break!” he shouted, as the gorge narrowed and they were still on his tail. “Hang on!”

A missile struck the canyon wall, raining rocks and debris down around them as Sazh hugged the river’s surface. “Take that!” he shouted as they ducked under the avalanche and the fighter behind them slammed into it. The canyon was filled with dust and smoke, and he pulled up once more, gaining altitude and leaving their pursuers to lose him in the chaos.

The ship shimmied and shook, its stabilizers damaged, but it still flew, and they had gotten away for now. “Ugh, for the love of all that’s good,” Sazh sighed, leaning back in his seat as he could finally relax.

“Next,” came the voice of a newscaster as Lightning tuned the ship’s communication systems into a local broadcast. “An update on the status of the Purge.”

“Huh?” asked Sazh, looking up at the holographic screen.

“Just moments ago,” continued the newscaster, “the Sanctum announced the successful conclusion of the Purge, along with the safe arrival of the Cocoon migrants to their new homes on Pulse.”

Sazh shook his head at the sheer audacity of the spin and lies. The broadcast cut to an interview with the Primarch himself, imposing in his regal robes, and the look on his face was chilling.

“Yes, that is correct,” came the Primarch’s voice from the speakers. “There’s no denying the enormity of the strain the Purge placed on us all. But given the tens of millions of lives at stake, there truly was no alternative.”

“Primarch Dysley stood by the move,” the anchor continued as the TV cut back to her, “stressing the necessity of the relocation. When asked about the possibility of future Purges, the Primarch remained noncommittal, stating only that he would seek counsel with the fal’Cie Eden and weigh all options before making a decision.”

Hope stared at the screen, jamming his finger on the mute button in rage and unable to believe what he was watching. His neighbors, his school friends, even his damn father would think he was happy as can be in some phantom settlement on Pulse that didn’t exist, and they would never even know his mom had died.

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Sazh, unsurprised. “If it makes the Sanctum look bad, it never even happened.”

The TV cut back to Dysley’s interview, and Vanille unmuted it as he began to talk once more. “In all the centuries since the War of Transgression,” Dysley went on, “Cocoon has been spared Pulse aggression, and prospered for it. It is essential that we maintain this peace. That is the Sanctum’s focus. We will continue employing every resource available to combat these threats to the harmony of our society.”

Sazh muted it once more in disgust. “Meaning,” he clarified, “we’ll be running for the rest of our lives.”

“Hey?” asked Vanille, pointing at Dysley’s holographic face. “Who is this guy?”

He rolled his eyes, putting his forehead down on the console and sighing. Was she for real? “I mean,” he muttered. “What do they teach kids these days?”

“Uhh…” Vanille sighed. She was not a kid, and wished people would stop treating her as one.

“He’s Galenth Dysley,” explained Sazh. “The Sanctum Primarch. Murderer-in-chief.”

“Just another tool of the fal’Cie,” muttered Lightning.

Murderer indeed, Vanille thought. All those poor people, massacred because of me. When will it end? Hands shaking, she turned the sound back on as the broadcast cut to the newsroom once more.

“According to our insta-poll,” said the anchor, “nearly ninety percent of Cocoon’s citizens agree with the Sanctum’s handling of the Purge. Seventy percent of respondents said they would also support additional Purges were the need to arise.”

Sazh turned the broadcast off. “Let’s just Purge everybody!” he snarked. “That’ll fix it.”

It made utterly no sense, thought Lightning. Unless Dysley had no idea what his own army was doing, it seemed as if he was using the Pulse panic to massacre his own citizens. Almost as if the Sanctum was trying to pick up where Pulse had left off. But if Dysley had been a Pulse l’Cie as well, Eden would have known immediately, and stopped him. Unless…

Lightning shook her head. The very idea was unthinkable. Fal’Cie Eden had watched over humanity for centuries, nurturing and caring for the citizens of Cocoon since long before the War of Transgression. Could such a being really have wanted this? It sure hadn’t done anything to stop it, though, she thought. If Eden hadn’t given the order, it had at least given its tacit approval through inaction. Her train of thought was interrupted as an alarm sounded from the console, however. 

“Uh oh,” said Sazh as the fighters reappeared on his radar screen. “They found us. Points for perseverance,” he grumbled. He pulled up, shielding his eyes from the glare as he headed toward Phoenix, the fal’Cie that hovered at Cocoon’s very center and served as its sun. Maybe the light would blind them as well, he hoped.

“Wow,” said an astonished Vanille as the cockpit’s windows began to automatically filter the light, and she got her first close look at Phoenix.

“Yep,” said Sazh. Even he had never been this close to it. “A Sanctum fal’Cie up close and personal.” Unfortunately, the dimming windows meant their pursuers probably had the same system on board, and sure enough, bullets began to pelt the ship once more. “Here we go again…”

“Fly in!” said Lightning, pointing at the massive energy sphere that Phoenix used to generate its light. “We’ll lose them in there.”

“Are you crazy?” sputtered Sazh, but the console indicated they were taking heavy damage from the gunfire. They didn’t have much of a choice. “All right, here goes.” 

He flew directly into the center of the graviton rings that kept Phoenix’s energy contained, weaving back and forth between streams of light that surrounded them. An explosion rocked the ship from behind as one of the pursuing fighters was struck by an energy stream and destroyed.

“I like this fal’Cie!” said Sazh, amazed that Lightning’s plan was actually working.

“There’s more of them!” cried Vanille, however.

Indeed, the rest of the fighter pilots seemed undeterred, and Sazh’s opinion of Phoenix quickly fell as the ship’s stern clipped another of its energy streams, bucking them completely out of the graviton sphere and sending them into an uncontrolled spin.

“No, no, no!” Sazh screamed as he desperately tried to stabilize their descent. The console had lit up with alarms, warning him the ship’s main AMP rotor had been hit, and he knew an emergency landing was their only option. They had been flung out to Phoenix’s far side, and the radar had gone completely dark.

“Come on, come on,” he implored, pulling desperately on the yoke and trying to get every ounce of power he could out of the auxiliary rotors. He had no idea where they were headed as they careened toward a vast dark area far from the lights of civilization, and could only hope they would survive as he tried to level their descent. The landing gear had been damaged as well, and the ship bounced roughly off the ground like a stone skipping on a lake. Sazh blacked out.

* * *

Lightning awoke first, bruised all over but alive. The four of them had been thrown clear of the crash, and she realized it might have saved their lives as she saw the state of the burning wreckage around them. She turned to wake the others, but froze as she heard a sound. Sanctum bioweapons were already on their trail, she realized, and she ran forward to intercept them.

Vanille bolted upright, her own senses alerting her to the creatures’ presence. Lightning had leapt into battle immediately, but there were way too many of them for her to handle alone. “Hey!” she yelled, shaking Sazh and Hope to wake them. “Wake up! You’ve got to wake up! Look!” 

She pointed at Lightning, pinned down between three panther weapons, as the other two groaned, slowly sitting up. One of them pounced on her, and Vanille realized she didn’t have time to wait. She grabbed her binding rod and ran toward them, charging it with fire from her brand and flinging it at the beasts, scattering them.

“Hey!” called Sazh, scrambling up and running after her. “Slow down!” He pelted the panthers with gunfire as Lightning stood up, arcs of electricity already flying from her hands and causing the beasts to convulse as their enhancement circuits overloaded. “Gotta keep you kids safe, right?”

“Ohh…” Vanille sighed as they were alone once more. “Glad that’s over!”

Lightning simply grunted and shoved the Blazefire Saber back in its holster as Vanille knelt down, exhausted.

“Phew,” said Sazh, sitting down next to her. “Man, I’m beat.” None of them had slept in more than a day, and the most they had eaten had been a few bites of emergency rations. “What, no break?” he asked as Lightning began to walk on without even looking back.

“They’re tracking us,” she explained. The bioweapons were constantly being monitored, she knew. As soon as they had picked up the scent, the nearest PSICOM field outpost would have been alerted.

“I know that,” agreed Sazh, standing up. “But we aren’t soldiers. We don’t have your kind of stamina!”

“You got enough to complain,” she snarked, continuing on alone.

“Oh, that’s…” Sazh started to say. He thought that being stuck together as l’Cie would have changed her tune a little bit, but she was acting just as cold as she had been on the train. “Forget it!” He sat back down, pulling out his last energy bar, and took a bite.

Hope stood up, watching her leave. “I think, um…” he started to say.

“I’d stick with her if I were you,” said Sazh, breaking off a piece of the bar and handing it to Vanille.

Lightning scared the crap out of Hope, but he realized he was out of time to mourn and mope. He was a l’Cie, and the army would hunt him down and kill him unless he learned to defend himself. More than that, though, his grief had hardened into burning anger. 

Just talking to Snow would never be enough, he knew. He had to make him know how he felt. He had to make him feel what he felt. He had to make him hurt. He’d watched Vanille use her staff to direct her magic, and realized he could probably do the same with his Airwing. But he needed training, and realized that a former Guardian Corps elite would be the best person to train under.

“Yeah…” he said, looking at the other two. Vanille had been so nice to him, but she was treating him like a child, and he knew it was time he grew up. “Later, then.” He dashed off after Lightning, sprinting to catch up.

“You too,” said Sazh, looking at Vanille.

“Uh-uh,” she said. She had had enough fighting. “Come on,” she added, getting up and turning to Sazh. “Let’s get going.”

“Get going to where, exactly?” Sazh asked, looking around. The airship lay strewn across the rocks in a thousand burning pieces, and they were surrounded by what looked like a massive scrapyard of busted machine parts that went on for miles. 

He watched as Hope nimbly scrambled onto a piece of wreckage, climbing up the sheer cliff after Lightning. “The whole of Cocoon’s against us,” he added. “No matter how far we run, there’s no escape. And that Cie’th clock? It’s still a-tickin.’”

Wherever they had crashed, Vanille knew they were no longer trapped in a sealed-off area. Fang was out there somewhere, she knew, and she had been given another chance to find her. “There’s still time,” she said. “You give up too easy, old man!” She knew Sazh was not that old, but if he was going to insist on calling her a kid, she would respond in kind.

“I’m not giving up,” he retorted. “But there are some things you just can’t change. A kid like you would not understand.”

Try me, Vanille silently seethed through clenched teeth. She rarely got angry, but that comment had struck a deep nerve. “Yeah, I’m a kid,” she spat, turning her back on him. “I don’t understand.”

“Welp,” Sazh continued obliviously. “I guess we can be fugitives together.” He stood up, stumbling slightly and reaching for her shoulder to steady himself. “You ready?”

“Ready!” she giggled, burying her pain once more under her tried-and-true facade of smiles, and pushing Sazh forward. She had been almost ready to open up at last, to tell him everything just for the chance to tell someone, but her trust had been shattered. She knew he saw her as nothing but an airheaded kid, so she would keep up the charade until she found Fang once more. As she followed Sazh in tense silence, she thought back to the moment she first realized it was all about to go wrong again.

* * *

Bodhum seemed to always be a festive place, thought Vanille as she wandered among the crowd that had gathered for the fireworks. From the moment she had arrived, everyone around her had been celebrating something. She gazed up at the sky, her eyes drawn by the fireworks display, more elaborate than she had ever seen.

If only Fang could be here to see it with me, she thought, praying silently that no harm had come to her partner. Fang was the strongest person she knew, but she had a knack for getting herself into trouble, and there was quite a lot of it to be gotten into here.

She had no idea that the woman she loved was on the other side of the same beach, desperately searching for her. There were so many people, it would be hard to find anyone in this crowd. Closing her eyes, she listened to the voices around her, hearing so many pieces of so many conversations. So many people laughing and having fun…except two.

“…found something in the Vestige nearby…” came one piece of a sentence. Instantly, she froze, looking around in panic.

Two off-duty soldiers still in uniform, a woman and a man, stood talking, and she nervously approached, trying to hear what they were saying.

“…accident at the Euride Gorge energy plant…” came another fragment of the man’s voice as she desperately tried to get closer without being seen. Her heart was pounding, and she hid behind a palm tree, closing her eyes to focus on what they were saying.

“Yeah,” said the woman. “More ‘incident’ than accident, I heard. Something Pulse-related?”

“Oh, no,” Vanille whispered. What had Fang done?

“You’re taking tomorrow off, right?” the man said.

“Yes, sir,” the woman replied nervously. “For my birthday, sir. My sister, she insisted on it.”

“Twenty-one, huh?” said the man.

The same age as Fang, thought Vanille absently. She stole a quick glance at the two, noting the woman’s pinkish hair and sharp features. She looked like she could be related to the girl she had spent the other day bonding with, sharing stories of troubled loves and things they wished they could say. Still, she wished the man would say more about what had happened.

“Maybe it’s a good time to send off that letter of recommendation for officer training!” the man continued instead.

“Lieutenant?” asked the woman.

“Ohh,” sighed Vanille as she realized they had continued off the topic, and she began to wander away. “Fang… Please be okay.”

TEN

“You’re past due for a promotion, Farron,” continued Lieutenant Amodar, smiling at Lightning. “Think of your sister, and your future. And…uh…keep your nose out of trouble.”

“Out of PSICOM business, you mean,” said Lightning, looking around at the heavily-armored troopers that had taken up security posts around the beach. Earlier that day, Amodar had suddenly reassigned her with no explanation, then just an hour ago he had abruptly given her the rest of the night off. She knew the two branches of the Sanctum military didn’t always get along, but something big had to be afoot for them to be muscling in on the GC’s turf like this.

“Yeah,” agreed Amodar. He had no idea what they were up to, either, and it unsettled him to no end. Most of the reports about both the Euride incident and the Vestige were classified, but he knew PSICOM’s tactics were ruthless and indiscriminate. The anti-Pulse task force was trained for waging open war, not protecting a civilian population. “Nothing good will come of it,” he added. “Nothing but grief.”

* * *

How right you were, Lieutenant, Lightning thought as she crested the ridge. Nothing but grief indeed. She heard footsteps, and turned around to see Hope jogging to catch up. The other two were nowhere to be found. “Just you?” she asked.

“For now, I guess,” said Hope. He looked back, but the others hadn’t followed. “Should we wait?”

“They’ll catch up,” Lightning said, walking ahead. “Eventually.” Or they wouldn’t, she knew, but PSICOM knew they were here now, and waiting around would make them sitting ducks. She couldn’t babysit everybody.

“All the junk around here came from Pulse, didn’t it,” remarked Hope as he looked around at the strange machines in the rubble.

“Yeah,” said Lightning, scrambling over piles of debris. “The ‘Vile Peaks,’ they call it. Been here on missions before. It’s a scrap heap of discarded materials the fal’Cie used to repair Cocoon hundreds of years ago. Stay alert; all kinds of stuff lurks out here.”

“Aah!” yelled Hope as three more bioweapon panthers leapt over a twisted bulkhead. I can do this, he said to himself, pulling out the Airwing. Lightning had charged forward, and he nervously tried to fight the best he knew how. He had no idea how the brand’s magic worked, but he seemed to be able to manipulate the density of the air around them.

“Here!” he shouted, coalescing it into a makeshift shield and using the Airwing’s AMP to maneuver it in front of Lightning. I can assist her, he thought. One of the beasts had noticed him, however, and he quickly conjured another barrier over himself.

He was capable of making an actual difference in a fight, he realized, and he tried lowering the air’s density to freeze it. Frost formed around the creature, slowing it down and giving Lightning an opening to attack it. 

Before she got there, however, the panther flew past both of them, hitting the rocks and crumpling to the ground, dead. From behind it strode a robot, but it was nothing like the graceful worker droids Hope had seen all over Cocoon. It was somewhat humanoid, made of rusty metal, and had one massive arm that swung in a 360-degree circle as it recoiled from dispatching the panther.

“What is that?” he screeched, backing up.

“Pulsework automaton,” Lightning explained. “These scrapyards are crawling with them, brought here with the rest of this junk.”

“Has it come to help us?” wondered Hope.

In response, the robot turned toward them, shuffling forward and belching smoky exhaust as its engine roared.

“What do you think?” she asked. It was rearing its arm back to swing at them, and she parried it with the saber, but her blows barely nicked its armor. “Glitched-out machines operating on instructions that haven’t been updated in centuries. They’ll attack anything that moves.”

She continued parrying its blows, but it was driving them back, perilously close to the edge of a cliff. “Hope, can you overheat it?” she asked

“I can try!” he said, willing forth flames from his brand and directing them with the Airwing. The metal armor began to heat up, glowing slightly reddish, until finally the robot stopped. Its chest opened up to reveal a glowing core as steam vented from its innards.

Lightning slashed at the core, and sparks flew as the machine stumbled, finally falling inert at their feet. Hope’s hands were shaking when it was over, but he was smiling.

“Good job,” said Lightning. “Let’s move.”

They made their way down the hill, climbing across rusted catwalks and pieces of pockmarked concrete. Entire buildings lay strewn around at odd angles, some still with peeling paint and bits of writing in some exotic language. Had people lived in these? Hope wondered.

Pulse was a wasteland, he knew, but an army of some kind had attacked Cocoon five hundred years ago, causing the damage that all this rubble had been brought here to fill in. He always wondered who or what had made up that army. They couldn’t all have been fal’Cie. Were they robots like the one they had just fought? Beasts like the Sanctum’s bioweapons?

Some of the junk was eerily ordinary, however, he noticed. Crates, barrels, and broken traffic cones littered the ground. Was that a sofa? he wondered as they passed something sticking out of the dirt that had been covered in a particulary ugly fabric. What if there was a whole civilization down there, looking up at Cocoon every day? he thought. What would go through the minds of people like that? What would make them want to destroy Cocoon?

Lightning stopped, their path finally barred by a sheer rock face, and Hope slumped forward, panting with exhaustion.

“Can we get through this way?” he asked her. “You do know where you’re going, right?”

“Like I said, I’ve been here on missions,” she answered.

“What…kind of ‘missions?’” asked Hope. Snow had said she would take care of him, but he didn’t exacly trust Snow’s judgment on anything. “Nothing to do with the Purge, right?”

Lightning sighed again, tired of explaining this. “The Purge was PSICOM’s baby. I was Guardian Corps. Bodhum Security Regiment. Completely different branch.”

“Wait,” said Hope. “I don’t get it. If you’re not PSICOM, then why did you board the train?”

“For Serah,” she told him.

* * *

It was the morning of the Purge, and the citizens and visitors that had been partying on the beach just the other night were nervously filing into the Bodhum Aerorail Station.

“Join the end of the line!” said an armored PSICOM trooper. “All Purge deportees: follow instructions and stay in your lines. Personal belongings will be returned upon arrival.”

A sudden commotion spread across the platform, and people scattered, screaming as the troopers raised their weapons. “You! Halt!” yelled one as two people at the end of the line began running, trying to make a break for freedom. In an instant, gunfire echoed through the building as they were brutally shot to death.

Stunned silence came over the crowd as people began to realize just how far the army was prepared to go to get them off of Cocoon. “Those…were warning shots, right?” asked one woman, craning her neck to try and see what had happened.

“Do not leave your lines!” yelled a soldier. “This is for your own safety!”

From the back of the platform, Lightning strode in, heading right for the troops at the front of the line.

“Huh?” asked the soldier guarding the train door as she approached. “What’s the GC doing here? This op’s under PSICOM direction.”

“So direct me,” said Lightning. “Let me on. I wanna be Purged.”

What the hell was that about? thought Sazh as he noticed their exchange from the back of the line. He knew the two branches were different, but this seemed highly irregular even to him. 

The PSICOM trooper leaned close to her, whispering so the others didn’t hear. “Only civs get Purged. Sanctum staff and soldiers are exempt.”

Lightning pulled the Blazefire Saber out of her holster, and handed it to the trooper. “Then I quit,” she said bluntly.

“Hmph,” the trooper muttered. “Line up!”

Okay, what is she playing at? Sazh wondered as she strode back to the end of the line where he stood. “Excuse me,” he said, looking at her. “Hey, lady, what gives?”

“I volunteered,” she simply said.

“Really,” he muttered. So had he, in a way, but he sure didn’t feel like he had a choice. She was a Sanctum soldier who could simply walk away from this, though. “You don’t look ready to go quiet into that good night.”

“You want quiet?” she retorted. “You better take the next train.”

* * *

“I had to rescue Serah,” Lightning continued. “Before they transported the Vestige to Pulse, and out of my reach. My only chance to save her was to join the Purge.”

“You’re telling me you got on that train deliberately so you could save your sister?” asked Hope, flabbergasted. “That’s crazy. I could never do something like that.”

There had been a point in Lightning’s life when she had thought the same. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She couldn’t be. “It’s not a question of can or can’t,” she told him. “There are some things in life you just do.”

“Easy for someone like you to say,” Hope muttered.

“Hmph,” she grunted, leaping into the air and scaling the cliff without a moment’s hesitation.

“Lightning!” Hope shouted, but she was gone, and he was alone. “She left me…” She had done all that to try and save her sister, but she left me here to die alone, thought Hope, as the howls of strange beasts could be heard in the distance. He hadn’t even been worth waiting for at the top.

“Hey!” came a familiar cheerful voice. “Hope!” He looked up, and saw Vanille and Sazh approaching from a different path. “We made it!” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Where’s Grumpy?” asked Sazh, looking around.

Hope was silent, simply gesturing to the top of the cliff.

“Got left behind, huh?” Sazh said, reaching to put his hand on Hope’s shoulder.

“Leave me alone!” he snapped, getting up suddenly.

“Hey!” said Sazh. “What?”

“This is pointless,” Hope grumbled. “Can’t keep up, can’t get home. It’s over for me.”

“Aw,” said Vanille, darting over. “It’s not over. We’ll get you home.” There had been plenty of times she had felt the same, after all.

“I don’t have one,” he said. “Now that mom is…”

“What about your dad?” asked Vanille.

“What about him?” he muttered.

“He’s got to be worried!” she said.

“Let him worry,” Hope spat. “Why should I care? He doesn’t.” His father had been distant his whole life, arguing with him and his mother over the littlest things, sometimes not talking to them for days on end. He had surely seen the report on the news, and would believe the lies that he was safe.

“Any father cares,” said Sazh. He knew not everyone was good at showing their emotions, but he refused to believe Hope’s father wouldn’t be worried sick for him. 

“Sazh?” asked Vanille.

She wouldn’t understand, he thought. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

I guess he doesn’t trust me either, she thought. Just an airheaded kid. “Come with me, okay?” she said to Hope, putting her arm around him and leading him along.

“We’ve got time, at least,” said Sazh. “We’ll get you back home, and your dad will be happy to see you.” Hope glared at him, but didn’t say anything as they began to climb.

Vanille pulled him over the crest of the cliff, and gasped as she looked ahead. “Isn’t that a…”

“A warship from Pulse,” confirmed Sazh as he noticed the scene ahead. The derelict was massive, towering over the landscape as it lay against the rocks.

“You mean they made it this far?” asked Vanille.

“Of course not,” said Sazh angrily. “Not during the war, and not since. Oh, they might’ve tried, but none of their forces made it into Cocoon.”

“Hm,” Vanille remarked. 

“They only damaged the outer rim,” explained Sazh. “Then the Sanctum’s fal’Cie pushed them back. What, did you sleep through history or something?”

“More or less,” she giggled. “So, what’s a ship from Pulse doing here?”

“Well, once the war was over,” said Hope, “people couldn’t live near the rim anymore. That’s why the Hanging Edge was empty and sealed off. The fal’Cie gathered up scrap from Pulse and used it to repair the damage. Lightning said this place was made out of what was left over. A bunch of garbage.”

“Who’da thunk?” mused Sazh. “A Pulse fal’Cie and who knows what else, mixed in with all the trash…”

“Who’da thunk,” Vanille repeated, her eyes watering. She wondered what else might be hiding amidst all this rubble, not to mention other Vestiges all across Cocoon. Mixed in with the trash. “I’m gonna go look ahead!” she exclaimed, darting off to hide the tears in her eyes.

“Hey, stay where I can keep an eye on you!” Sazh called out, following hurriedly.

Vanille scampered around a bend, sprinting past the derelict warship and ducking behind a piece of rusted metal, sobbing silently into her hands. She had never felt more alone in her life, not even when Fang had left her behind at Euride. She couldn’t give in, though. She had to stay strong, for Hope’s sake at least. She would lose herself in happier days, and she would press on.

* * *

Vanille strode down Bodhum’s central shopping street, hand-in-hand with Fang. They knew they were drawing some strange looks, as they both wore unusual clothes, but Fang didn’t seem to care, and so neither did she. Then again, Fang had never cared much about standing out.

This was different, she knew, as her empath’s senses could pick up the slightest tension in the air. Every day, there seemed to be more soldiers about, and it was little wonder. Try as they had, they couldn’t get the Vestige’s door to close again, and already one hapless girl had wandered in and been branded by the fal’Cie.

“I’m just saying, we have to do something,” said Fang. “We can’t just stay here forever.”

“I know,” Vanille said. “Just a little longer, though? Come on! Let’s check what they’ve got for sale here! Maybe we can dress like locals, and people will finally stop staring at us!”

“Oh, all right,” Fang sighed. She always had had trouble resisting indulging the girl’s every whim.

“Ooh,” said Vanille, picking through racks of jewelry. “Look at these!” She held up a necklace with a pendant that looked like Cocoon, held aloft by a pillar of crystal.

“What, you want one as a souvenir?” Fang asked. “We’re not here on vacation, Vanille.”

“Look!” she said, reading from a plaque on the table beneath the rack. “It says here that couples give them to each other as a symbol of eternal love! What do you think?” She held the necklace up to Fang’s neck, between her rainbow beads and rustic choker.

“We don’t need a symbol,” she said, smiling and putting her hand in Vanille’s hair. “We’ll figure this out together, just you watch.” She took the necklace and placed it back on the display, where it caught the eye of a tall man in a trench coat who was browsing the wares behind her.

“Come on,” Fang continued, walking back out to the street. “I still think Euride’s our best bet. It’ll be fun!” she added. “Just like old times.”

“I don’t want to,” Vanille said. “I just want to stay here, in the sea breeze, with you, forever.”

“I know,” Fang agreed, taking her hands and staring into her childlike eyes. “But we don’t have forever.” She pulled Vanille into an embrace, kissing her on the forehead. “Come on, missy. Let’s get going.”

ELEVEN

Vanille quickly dried her eyes, climbing out from behind the rubble to notice Lightning, as Sazh and Hope finally caught up to her.

“There you are!” Sazh exclaimed, but Lightning simply grunted and continued on. “Sheesh. Would it kill her to smile?”

“You okay, Hope?” Vanille asked as he buried his head in his hands.

“I’m fine,” he said, brushing her aside.

“Aw…” she cried, wishing there was more she could do to ease his pain. “Huh?”

Lightning had stopped in front of a large pile of rusted gears and chunks of metal. “Stay back,” she said, drawing her saber.

As if on cue, the sound of an engine roared forth from under the junk heap, and a great machine stood up, like a train locomotive on legs, shining its bright searchlight in their eyes.

“What is that?” asked Sazh.

“Pulse armament,” Lightning explained.

“And that’s…bad for us, I take it?” he continued.

“You have eyes, don’t you?” she snapped as it swung its enormous metal arms at them. A large, serrated sphere lowered from under its shell and began to spin, the chains dangling from it spreading out into deadly whips.

“Get back!” Vanille yelled, pulling on Sazh’s jacket.

The machine fired the entire sphere at them, narrowly missing Vanille and Sazh, and collapsing the entire floor that they had been standing on.

“Agh!” cried Sazh as they tumbled into a cave. He looked up, seeing the huge mech teetering on the edge above them. “Thought we were goners! You all right?”

“I think so,” Vanille said.

“Incoming!” yelled Lightning as the machine tumbled off the edge, righting itself and landing on its metal feet in front of them. The claws on the end of its arms began spinning, and jets of fire issued forth, searing the l’Cies’ skin.

Vanille screamed in pain, reaching blindly for her staff as blood dripped into her eyes. “Not like this!” she shrieked, willing their wounds to heal as the machine continued its relentless assault. She turned to face it, corroding its armor with her magic so they would have a fighting chance.

“All right,” Sazh grumbled. “Let’s play hardball.” His mind flashed back to their fight against Anima, and how the fal’Cie would use its manipulators to amplify the magic it generated. “Vanille!” he called out, channeling energy into her brand. “See how it likes that!” 

She called forth a torrent of water from the air, drenching the machine and short-circuiting its vital systems. Lightning climbed atop it, gouging the saber into a gap in its armor and pulling with all her might, but it was still not enough.

“It’s too strong!” shouted Lightning.

“Hold on!” called Sazh, wondering if he could give her a boost in the same way. He focused the magic into Lightning’s arm muscles this time, and the armor began to buckle under her enhanced strength.

“Aagh!” Lightning cried, prying loose a chunk of metal and revealing a mess of vulnerable tubes and cables beneath. “Now!”

“With pleasure,” said Sazh, charging his rounds with fire and unleashing a barrage into the machine’s innards. An explosion issued forth from within as his burning bullets struck a fuel line, and the terrible machine finally crashed to the ground, falling still.

“Ahh,” sighed Vanille, panting.

“Pulse is crawling with things like that, isn’t it?” asked Sazh, sitting down to catch his breath.

“Got me,” shrugged Lightning. “The GC doesn’t have access to intel on Pulse. Soldiers in the field fight blind.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Noticed that. But don’t you need to know exactly what you’re up against?”

“Target’s a target,” she simply said.

Vanille looked at her, backing slowly away. Fang was a warrior as well, so she was no stranger to being around battles, but Lightning was different, and something about her terrified Vanille. She had a coldness, a ruthlessness and callousness about her, fighting with a calculating precision that came off almost inhuman sometimes.

The wrecked dreadnought that they had laid waste to may have only been a machine, but Vanille had seen her cut through countless soldiers without showing a scrap of emotion, and she had obviously been content to leave Hope behind for the simple sin of not being able to keep up with her. Not even it had been like that.

“You…like to keep it simple, don’t you,” said Sazh.

“I stick to my goal,” she replied.

“As long as you have a goal, you can fight?” asked Hope. The very same qualities that scared Vanille were ones Hope was almost envious of. Lightning never stopped. She let nothing slow her down, not even basic humanity. She persevered, and she never looked back.

“You can stay alive,” Lightning told him. That was all that mattered. She kicked a piece of the dead robot out of the way, revealing a ramp that led to the surface, and started up it without another word.

“Wait!” Hope cried, dashing after her.

“Come on, Vanille,” said Sazh. “Soldier girl ain’t gonna wait up for us slowpokes.” They made their way up to the surface, where Lightning had stopped, sitting atop the wreckage of another derelict Pulsian warship.

Sazh climbed up to her, sighing and sitting down next to her. “Not much of a future for us, huh,” he remarked as he watched Vanille playing with the scraps of metal on the ground.

“Hard to picture a happy ending,” Lightning agreed.

“I mean, we don’t even know where to go,” he continued.

“I do,” said Lightning, standing up resolutely. “Right there.” She pointed at the massive glowing metropolis that floated miles in the sky above them.

“Eden?” sputtered Sazh. “The Sanctum’s seat of power? Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea. Just charge right in there, and give them a taste of l’Cie terror!”

Vanille stopped, overhearing them and looking up. “No…” she tried to say. Not even Fang would have been that reckless. She agreed the Sanctum government seemed to be treading down an evil path, but to declare open war on them? How many more would die for that crusade?

“You’re serious,” Sazh remarked as Lightning failed to answer.

“Keep running, then,” she said. “It’s die or turn Cie’th. You know that. There’s no place for l’Cie to hide. They want a fight? Fine. Let’s take it to the Sanctum’s door!”

“This isn’t a game!” Sazh shouted.

“No,” Lightning agreed. If it had been, they had already lost. “That’s for damn sure. It started with Serah. The fal’Cie took her. Now I’m a l’Cie too, and the Sanctum’s hunting me, one more enemy of the state.”

“So you wanna prove them right?” he asked.

“Think about it!” she insisted. “Who’s pulling their strings? Another fal’Cie. Eden, Cocoon’s ‘sustainer and guiding light.’ It probably ordered the Purge in the first place.”

Even Sazh had to agree with that. If fal’Cie Eden cared as much about humanity as it was thought, why had it sat by and done nothing while hundreds of innocent people had been gunned down on Sanctum orders?

“Pulse and Sanctum fal’Cie are all the same,” declared Lightning. “And we’re all the same to them. Expendable.”

Vanille looked down at her feet. Lightning was certainly right about that, she thought. She and Fang had always been treated as expendable. It was part of what had cemented their deep bond, as they knew they could only ever truly rely on each other.

“I’m not dying a fal’Cie slave,” Lightning finished.

“So?” Sazh asked. “What are you gonna do?”

“Destroy it,” she said.

“By yourself?” he remarked. Going after Anima had been one thing, but he wasn’t about to follow her on this little fool’s errand. “Are you crazy? Say you pull it off, eh? What does that get you? Satisfaction? Something happens to Eden, it’s lights-out Cocoon!”

“No!” Vanille exclaimed. Lightning didn’t care, she realized. A target was a target, just as she had said, and now Eden was that target, consequences be damned.

“You want that, don’t you,” said Sazh. “You’re a Pulse l’Cie now, so you just wanna snuff out Cocoon!”

“What about Serah?” begged Vanille. “She said to save Cocoon!”

“Yeah, well, she’s gone now,” said Lightning. “Fal’Cie made sure of that.”

“But…” Vanille panicked, trying to think of anything that would make Lightning see reason. “It might even be our Focus to make sure Cocoon stays…”

“Our Focus doesn’t matter!” she snapped. “I don’t take orders from fal’Cie. How I live is up to me.”

There was no persuading her, Vanille realized. The way Lightning’s mind worked was ironically just like a fal’Cie: she set her own Focus, then carried it out, no matter what. No matter the cost, no matter what new information she learned.

“Don’t you mean how you die?” said Sazh.

“Think like that,” she replied, “and it’s already over. Better to pick your path and keep moving.”

“Keep moving…” mused Hope, looking at her.

“Don’t worry,” Lightning tried to reassure them. “I’m after the Sanctum. I’m not out to destroy the world.”

“Eden might not give you a choice, though,” Vanille moaned, tears in her eyes.

“If it did come to that,” she muttered, “I wonder if our ‘hero’ would try to stop me?”

“You wanna fight Snow now, too?” asked Sazh. “Just like that, and you’re enemies?”

“Next time we meet,” Lightning said, coldly staring first at Sazh, then at Vanille. “We might be too.”

“No…” cried Vanille, watching as the former soldier took off alone once more. It had been one thing with Fang. But Fang fought for reasons she could understand. Family, honor, and foremost above all, love. Lightning, however, would turn on any one of them if she had to. All that mattered to her was the end goal.

In the end, however, it was pain driving her too. Vanille could sense it, even under that ice-cold shell. Everyone coped differently, she knew. Vanille wore her smile as armor, and Hope wore his anger. Snow and Sazh would goof around, and Fang relied on love. For Lightning, it was all she could do to keep moving.

“Yeah, well, Snow deserves it!” Hope yelled, suddenly taking off after her.

Just like that, their bonds as fellow l’Cie in a hostile world had been shattered, with everyone lost in their own grief and pain. If only I’d been stronger, thought Vanille. If only I’d been honest with Fang. Perhaps none of this would have had to happen… “I don’t know what I should do,” she cried, watching the boy she had tried to befriend running off to follow Lightning on her suicide mission.

“That makes two of us,” Sazh admitted.

“Huh?” she said. “Hey! I thought you were supposed to be taking care of me? You’re the one always saying I’m just a kid, after all.”

“Yeah, well,” he said. “Even us adults lose our way sometimes.” From the distance came sounds of fighting, and Sazh realized it was likely PSICOM had caught up to them. “Uh oh. Army’s out to play.”

“What now?” asked Vanille.

“What now?” Sazh repeated. “Well, we could stay here, but shouldn’t we help?”

“We should run!” Vanille suggested instead. She was tired of fighting, tired of killing, and Lightning had so much as said she wouldn’t hesitate to cut either of them down if they interfered with her mission. “We rush in now, we’ll just get in her way!”

“You know, you’re right, I guess,” said Sazh. “I mean, it’s not like Lightning needs any help.”

The two turned to hurry in the opposite direction, climbing through the wrecked derelict and descending a rusty metal catwalk into a valley full of still-operating machinery. Pulsework automatons had set up a full-scale mining operation, their centuries-old programming directing them to dredge the land and manufacture fuel to keep themselves operating long after their masters were gone.

“No sign of soldiers here,” Vanille said.

“I guess Lightning got their attention,” Sazh mused.

“I just wonder how Hope’s doing,” she continued. She worried for the boy, given how he clung to anger and had begun to idolize Lightning’s worst qualities. If he continued down the path he was on, he would either get himself killed, or he would find himself stained with sins nothing could wash clean.

“They were headed towards Palumpolum,” reassured Sazh. “Kid’s on his way home. You can bet on it.”

“Good for him,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Hm?” she asked, as Sazh became quiet and pensive. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s good if they manage to slip in quietly,” he said. “But all of Cocoon is in the grip of Pulse-phobia. If a l’Cie pops up on the radar, all hell will break loose.”

“They don’t even know why they’re scared,” remarked Vanille.

“Afraid of what they don’t know,” said Sazh. “Afraid to find out more.”

“Oh?” she said, looking at him, but he wasn’t finished speaking.

“Gets worse the older you get,” he continued. “I’m terrified of what will happen. The world probably would be better off without Pulse l’Cie.”

“Right,” said Vanille, fighting back tears with all her might.

“I mean most of them,” Sazh backpedaled hurriedly.

“Gee, thanks,” said Vanille, instantly putting her smile back on. She had to keep it together long enough to get back to civilization, at least. If she needed to, she could look for Fang on her own then, but she wouldn’t leave Sazh behind in this junkyard like Lightning did. “Let’s go!” she said, pulling him along.

The two of them tiptoed through the automated mine, keeping to the shadows. The robots seemed content to ignore them as long as they kept their distance, and before long, they had come to a rocky outcropping framed on both sides by waterfalls. It would have been beautiful if the water had not been a sickly shade of beige, tainted with the leavings of the mining.

“You must be tired,” remarked Vanille. Even she was beginning to feel the lack of sleep; they both had been awake for more than a day and a half. “Want to take a break?”

“We’ve gotta sleep somewhere,” agreed Sazh, walking to the edge where some scraggly bushes grew out of an area of softer soil. “This look okay?”

“Uh, yeah!” said Vanille, staking out a spot by a giant rusted gear. “Fine by me!” She pulled a scrap of ancient cloth out of the debris, unfurling it and spreading it out to serve as a makeshift bed. 

“Not a care in the world,” muttered Sazh, shaking his head.

“All set!” she called out, lying down and closing her eyes. “Okay, good night!”

He walked over, looking through the rubble to see if there was another piece of fabric.

“Oh, wait!” said Vanille, standing up suddenly. She picked up a stick, drawing a line in the dirt around the spot she had staked out. 

“What?” Sazh asked.

“Do not cross this line, understood?” she said playfully, spreading her arms as if to make an invisible wall.

“Grow up,” he simply said.

Fang used to tease her all the time for acting like a kid, but it still stung when Sazh did it. “Good night again!” she said, giggling and smiling anyway, then stretching out once more. 

“Would you just go to sleep already?” Sazh asked, sighing and lying down in the dirt a few feet away. He closed his eyes, quickly succumbing to exhaustion, and passed out.

The nightmares hit Vanille again that night, however. Horrific imagery filled her mind once more, dreams of blood and chaos, of people screaming and dying, but most of all, of it. Ragnarok. The only thing she still feared.

“Fang!” she called out in her dreams, but her love was nowhere to be found. “Where are you?”

She ran, chased by phantoms of past and present alike. Sanctum troops shooting at her would morph into rabid Pulsian monsters, drooling putrid saliva as they gathered to pounce. From behind them came Lightning, scattering them in an instant only to turn her blade on Vanille next. 

“You’re my enemy now,” said Lightning, swinging the Blazefire Saber in an arc that would have sliced Vanille’s head clean off, but from behind Lightning would come Ragnarok, swallowing her in an instant. It, too, would then turn its hungry gaze on Vanille.

“Help me, Fang!” she cried, running once more. She woke up sobbing, her back pressed against a comforting warmth. “Fang,” she whispered, turning to look, but her eyes found only Sazh, where she had scooted close to him in her sleep.

“Still a kid,” he muttered, and Vanille sobbed once more, alone against all the world.

Chapter Text

TWELVE

“Wait for me!” cried Hope, sprinting to catch up to Lightning. He doubled over with exhaustion, panting. “I’m going with you.”

This was just great, she thought, turning around to shoot the boy a harsh look. First Sazh, and now this kid? “I can’t babysit you anymore,” she said.

“I can fight!” Hope insisted. “I’m not afraid.”

“Yeah, well,” Lightning started to reply, stopping midsentence as footsteps echoed from behind her. “Great,” she muttered, turning around as troops began to surround them. “A PSICOM hit squad.”

The lead soldier pulled out a detonator, and a blast charge exploded behind Hope, collapsing wreckage onto the path he had taken and boxing the two of them in. There was no going back now, he realized, and they both drew their weapons.

I can’t hesitate, thought Hope, charging magical fire into the Airwing and releasing it at the soldiers. They stumbled back, but he had gotten their attention now. Lightning jumped in the way, cutting one down as he was aiming his gun, but another had already fired.

“Aah!” Hope screamed, falling backwards in pain. He looked down in shock, blood staining his jacket and dripping onto the ground from where he had been hit.

“Hope!” Lightning shouted, reaching in her pocket for a potion and finding it empty. Even she realized she couldn’t let the kid die on her watch, though. Vanille had used magic to heal them in scrapes before, and she flashed back to her basic field medic training from boot camp, knowing she had to figure out how to do the same.

She willed the flesh around Hope’s wounds to come together, forcing the bullets back out and knitting itself shut as he coughed, picking himself back up. The kid would have quite a scar, but he’d live, and they had bigger problems right now.

“Protect yourself!” she shouted, remembering the magical shields he had conjured earlier, and she turned to drive the remaining soldiers back.

Hope hardened the air in front of himself just in time as another barrage of SMG fire came at him. The bullets slowed down with the resistance, still hurting quite a bit as they pelted him, but not breaking his skin. Without stopping to even think, he gathered the air around them into a miniature tornado. “Deal with this!” he yelled as it swept them off their feet into a pile.

Lightning flipped the Blazefire Saber into gun mode, letting loose a volley of rounds as they tried to get up. In an instant, they were dead, and it was over. “Not bad,” she admitted, even as Hope panted and wheezed from the exertion. The kid had a lot to learn, of course, but he had kept his cool, even when wounded, and he hadn’t hesitated to do what was necessary.

“Really?” Hope asked. “Thanks.” He looked over at where the soldiers lay dead. All this time, he had hung back, staying out of the fighting unless absolutely necessary. Sure, he’d helped Vanille and Lightning take down bioweapons and robots on occasion, but this was his first time killing people. 

They wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same to me, he reminded himself. Besides, he wasn’t human anymore. He was a l’Cie, and it was time he started thinking like one. “There’ll be more soldiers,” he said. “We should keep moving.”

Lightning stared back at the collapsed pathway where she had left Sazh and Vanille behind. “Yeah,” she said.

“Are you worried about the others?” Hope asked. “I’m sure they got away okay.”

“So can you, if you leave now,” said Lightning. “With me, it’ll be fight after fight,” she warned. “I don’t know how it’ll end. It’s anybody’s guess.”

“I know that,” said Hope. “But I need to be stronger. Lightning…”

“Call me Light,” she said, softening ever so slightly. If Hope was sure about this, perhaps she could train him up a bit. 

“Okay,” said Hope. “What’s the plan from here?”

“Through the Gapra Whitewood to Palumpolum,” she declared. “From there, we’ll find transport to Eden.”

Home, thought Hope. There was nothing left for him in Palumpolum, but his knowledge of the city might prove useful. “I can show you all the shortcuts,” he said.

“No side trips,” Lightning warned.

“No need,” Hope said as they started down the trail. “I don’t think l’Cie are welcome at home.” 

“First, we need to get out of here,” said Lightning, holding up her hand for them to pause in the shadows as a voice came from around the corner.

“Any trace of the l’Cie?” a soldier called out.

“Nothing,” said another, kneeling over a dormant Pulse dreadnought like the one they had fought earlier. “No sign it’s been activated.”

“Huh?” said the first one, turning around. “Who’s there?”

“The l’Cie,” said Lightning sardonically, grabbing him by the shoulder and slitting his throat with her saber. “Hope!”

Hope darted out from the shadow, a shockwave of ice emanating from the Airwing and freezing the other soldier in place before he could draw his weapon. Lightning whirled around, a bolt of electricity arcing forth from her brand and catching him in the chest. He crumpled to the ground, and the two l’Cie looked around the scene.

“What was PSICOM doing with this thing?” wondered Hope.

“Probably thought we’d try and use a Pulse machine to escape,” she said.

“Maybe we should try it,” Hope said. After all, weren’t they on Pulse’s side now? He knelt down, looking closely at the machine’s workings. “What does this do?”

“Hey!” Lightning yelled. “Don’t touch that! You’re gonna hurt yourself!” She’d barely been able to defeat the last dreadnought with Sazh and Vanille helping, and she was worried the machine would attack if he did manage to activate it.

“Wait,” insisted Hope, climbing onto the dreadnought’s lower chassis. “What if it works?”

“Leave it!” she shouted, but the machine’s headlight had already switched on. A great rumbling of gears sounded, and the dreadnought stood upright, with Hope clinging to it for dear life.

“Aah!” Hope yelled, scrambling on top of the machine to a more stable perch. He didn’t know what had caused it to awaken, but so far all it was doing was lurching forward. “Stop! Stop already!”

“I told you to leave it,” muttered Lightning, drawing her saber.

Hope climbed into what appeared to be the machine’s saddle, a leather cushion with a set of clunky controls jutting out in front of it. “I think I got it!” Obviously they were designed to be able to operate autonomously, but as he took hold of the controls, it seemed to respond to his piloting. “Light! I think I can work this!”

She sighed, holstering the saber, at least thankful the mech wasn’t attacking them. Let him play with it if he wants. Where to go from here, however, was a different story. A massive metal bulkhead blocked the way, and it seemed the only choice would be to turn around and find another path.

“Light!” Hope shouted from behind her. “Get out of the way!”

“Huh?” she said, watching and stepping back as he drove the dreadnought toward the wall. “Hope, wait!”

Hope gunned the machine’s engine, grabbing the lever that controlled its arm and pulling it back. I guess the video games paid off, he thought, pushing the lever up and causing the mech’s arm to deliver a massive punch, collapsing the bulkhead and revealing a path beyond. “Light!” he said. “Hop in!”

Behind the bulkhead, an entire army of Pulsework robots stood in silent formation, and the sounds of their engines could be heard as they slowly came online and began to shuffle toward her. Guess the kid’s got a plan, she reluctantly admitted to herself, climbing onto the dreadnought behind him.

“Hold on!” Hope called, throttling up the machine’s legs and sending it trotting forward at a steady clip. The smaller robots scattered, easily kicked aside or crushed by the dreadnought’s massive feet. “Aah!” he yelled once more as the mech teetered toward the edge of a cliff, twisting the control levers to try and stabilize it.

Lightning leapt out of the machine’s saddle as the rocks beneath it began to crumble, and Hope clung on for dear life as it tumbled and slid off the edge. He screamed, losing his grip and falling clear of the dreadnought just as it thudded to the ground in a heap.

“Nice landing,” she snarked, shaking her head. Hope seemed okay, but the machine had been hopelessly wrecked. “Let’s get moving.”

“Just…ahh…need a minute,” Hope panted. “Still…a bit winded.”

“You’re too soft,” she admonished him.

“Wait…wait up!” he cried, still wheezing as she began to walk ahead once more, crossing a crumbling metal bridge over a dirty river. “Light!” He tripped on the bridge’s uneven support, falling flat on his face behind her.

“This isn’t working,” she complained. Hope may have been brave, but he was weak and immature, and would only get himself killed if he continued to follow her.

“Huh?” he asked.

“I mean you’re a liability,” she said coldly. “You’ll just slow me down.”

“What?” Hope questioned.

“I’m sorry,” she continued. “But I can’t protect you when…aah!” A sharp pain from her brand caused her to stop as she struggled to breathe. She clutched at the brand as it glowed red, distorting the light around itself.

“You can’t leave me here!” shouted Hope, not noticing what was happening to her. “You’ve got to take me with you!”

“Enough!” Lightning shouted back. “The whole world is against us! Aah!” She kneeled down as the pain got more intense. “I can barely keep myself alive, let alone some helpless kid! I don’t have time to baby you. You wanna get tough? Do it on your own!” She screamed as the pain grew overwhelming, a great rose-colored summoning circle lighting up beneath her. “What the hell?”

Hope watched in awe as the circle grew into a crystalline shell, inside which appeared a monstrous figure clad in armor and brandishing a double-bladed sword. Was that…? Hope had learned about the Eidolons in school, magical beings that would sometimes come to the aid of l’Cie in peril, but he certainly never thought he would lay eyes on one in person. He had seen a drawing of this one in a textbook: Odin, he remembered, was his name.

Odin did not, however, seem to be coming to Lightning’s aid. Instead, he fixed his terrifying gaze directly on Hope, raising the sword for a killing blow. “This cannot be happening!” shouted Lightning. “Look out!” She ran toward Hope, deflecting Odin’s blow with her saber.

Lightning had never put much stock in faerie tales anyway. They always did have a distressing tendency to be inaccurate, she thought. Whatever the hell Odin wanted with her, though, Hope was relying on her to keep him alive, and she wasn’t about to watch him cut the boy down in her name. She pushed the being back, giving Hope time to get clear.

In response, the great mystical warrior issued his challenge to Lightning, seizing her soul from her body and dooming her to die if she did not meet his approval. He raised his mighty blade, calling thunder from the heavens to strike both of them, and swung the blade at Hope once more even as he was still reeling from the shock.

“Dammit!” she yelled, sealing Hope’s wounds as Odin kept up his assault, seemingly intent on killing the boy for some inscrutable reason. “Leave him alone!”

Hope picked himself up, conjuring a shield around himself as the Eidolon flung him into the air, arcs of electricity crackling all around him. He gripped the Airwing, summoning healing energy from his own brand to keep himself alive as he fell back to earth.

“You good?” asked Lightning as he picked himself up.

“Yeah,” he nodded, forming a second shield around her.

“Your quarrel is with me!” she shouted, slicing at Odin’s armor as Hope threw magical energy at him, chaining together attacks of different elements at random to confuse the being as much as hurt him.

The Eidolon was unrelenting, however, mercilessly goring Hope with the blade. “Hope!” she cried as the boy screamed, clutching at his chest once more. This was bad, she thought, getting a closer look at the wound. It looked fatal, and it most certainly would have been were Hope not a l’Cie. 

“Hang in there,” Lightning said, forcing the blood to clot as she feinted left, then right, dodging and zigzagging as Odin attempted to take them both down in one swing. Trying to fight back anymore was out of the question, as it was all she could do to keep Hope alive as yet another thunderbolt struck him.

That was the point, she finally realized. It wasn’t her martial prowess Odin wanted her to prove. That had never been in question. It was how she treated her comrades-in-arms. It was how she had nearly been willing to let a fourteen-year-old kid die alone out here simply because he couldn’t keep up with her stamina and training.

Instantly, Odin ceased his assault, thrusting his blade into the ground and returning Lightning’s soul. He leapt into the air, and his body began to transform, his legs folding and his torso rotating into a great mechanical beast that resembled the mythical horse. Impossible light shone from above as a moon appeared in Cocoon’s sky and phantom rose petals followed in his wake as he trotted down from the air, stopping in front of Lightning as if in invitation.

She picked up the blade, climbing atop Odin’s back in victory, just glad it was over and Hope was safe. With that, Odin dissolved once more into mystical energy, returning to her brand, and she fell to her knees.

“Lightning!” Hope cried, running to her. “Your brand looks different,” he noticed, as it was still glowing red through her clothes. “That was an Eidolon, right? Like l’Cie can summon.”

“Hmph,” she muttered. What it was, was gone now, and that was what mattered to her. “Magic and mumbo-jumbo. I must’ve hit my head on that Purge train.”

“Am I…” Hope started. “Am I really in your way?”

Lightning sighed, walking down the path as if to leave him behind again.

“I’ll do better!” insisted Hope. “I’ll try harder! I’ll…”

“Hope,” she said, stopping and turning toward him. Even the gods want me to take care of him now. Odin’s attack had been a harsh wake-up call, though. What even was she if she left Hope behind after all that? “We’ll toughen you up.”

“Huh?” he said.

“I’m sorry about before,” she added. It was quite possibly the first genuine apology she had given to anyone but Serah.

“Halt!” came a yell as PSICOM troopers honed in on their position. “L’Cie!”

No rest for the wicked, Lightning mused, drawing the saber. “Got my back, Hope?” she asked. He may have been a kid, but he had the will to fight, and that was what mattered.

“Yeah,” Hope said. 

“All right, Odin,” said Lightning as an entire platoon of soldiers and two Uhlan-class hovertanks surrounded them. PSICOM wants to play rough? Let’s play rough. “Let’s see what you can do.” She plucked the Eidolon’s crystal rose from her brand, tossing it into the air and striking it with her saber. The summoning circle appeared once more, and Odin came forth from the ground in a flurry of rose petals. This time, however, he was under her command. “Cut us a path!”

The devastating attacks he had been using on Hope were now directed at the PSICOM troopers, who were cut down almost instantly under Odin’s flourishes of steel. Missiles streaked forth from the hovertanks, and the Eidolon raised his mighty shield to block them.

Lightning feinted back and forth, slicing at the mechs’ stabilizing thrusters as Odin’s thunderbolts crackled through the air. The machines crashed to the ground, momentarily disabled by the electrical current. “We do this together!” she called, stepping back as Hope filled the air with magical fire and Odin began to transform.

She hopped onto Odin’s back, sheathing the saber and taking his double-ended sword in her own hands. It was nearly as big as she was, but was balanced perfectly for her. “Let’s ride,” she said, separating it into two smaller blades and spinning them around her, sending a shockwave of electrified air cutting into the tanks.

Clapping the two blades together, she brought forth a storm cloud that ensnared the machines in a web of static, arcs flying between them and shorting out their systems. She joined the blades back into one, swinging it in a powerful circle that cut through the tanks’ armor as if it were butter. 

“The storm is here!” Lightning shouted, standing atop Odin’s back as she spun the blades through the air, her namesake element forming a curtain of electrical energy that left the two warmechs charred and unrecognizable as it dissapated.

She hopped down, handing the sword back to the Eidolon as he returned to her brand. “We’ll stop here,” she said, noticing Hope nearly ready to faint from exhaustion.

“Sorry,” said Hope, trying to stand upright.

“Don’t sweat it,” she said. The kid had every right to be tired, and he hadn’t had the training to push through fatigue like she had. “I’ll look around. You rest up.”

Hope collapsed to the ground almost immediately, closing his eyes and drifting into a fitful sleep as Lightning checked the perimeter. No other troops seemed to be in range, and hopefully the platoon they had encountered had not been able to radio for backup before being obliterated.

She returned to their makeshift campsite, sitting across from Hope, but kept the Blazefire Saber at the ready. He was tossing and turning, most likely in the grip of nightmares, she realized. I wonder why he decided to follow me? she thought. 

Lightning’s chosen path would be one of endless bloodshed and violence, and she had made that quite clear to the others. Sazh was a civilian, but he had a good head on his shoulders, and would probably be able to stay ahead of the enemy, at least for a while. She had no idea what went through Vanille’s mind, but the girl was definitely stronger than she came off at first glance.

Hope, however, seemed to want this for some reason. The kid seemed to have some kind of beef with Snow, but Lightning didn’t know quite what had caused it. “Who doesn’t have a beef with Snow, though?” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. 

“Mom?” Hope mumbled in his sleep.

“Not by a long shot,” she said, sighing.

THIRTEEN

The next morning, Lightning and Hope made their way down the path, finally arriving at the great wall that surrounded the Gapra Whitewood Research Facility. “Still works,” Lightning muttered, surprised as she entered her old Guardian Corps access code into the keypad and the fal’Cie governing the facility simply slid the door open for her. Fal’Cie may have possessed great power and intelligence, but their very nature gave them blind spots the size of the Palamecia.

According to the officials, the Purge had been a success. The record stated Sergeant Lightning Farron was no longer present on Cocoon, so the fal’Cie had no reason to suspect anyone with the proper access codes. “Hold,” she said to Hope, drawing the saber and running ahead to check if the coast was clear. The path ahead of her was empty, at least for now, and she gestured for Hope to follow.

“Can’t believe we made it,” said Hope, catching up and looking around at the impossible scene. They stood on a wide glowing catwalk, suspended halfway up in a forest of cyborg trees the size of skyscrapers, with circuit boards embedded in their trunks and electrical pathways flowing through their crystal leaves. The walkway rumbled beneath their feet as the bulkhead closed behind them.

“That’ll slow down pursuit,” Lightning reassured.

“But aren’t there troops on this side?” Hope asked. “We can’t relax just yet.”

“Right,” she agreed. “We press on. I’ll take point. You watch our backs.”

“Actually,” Hope interjected as she began to lead the way. “Why don’t you let me take point?”

She looked at him, admiring his determination, but worried that he was biting off more than he would be able to chew. “Can you handle it?” she asked.

He was still scared, but the only way he would ever grow up was by forging ahead and just doing it. “‘It’s not a question of can or can’t,’” he quoted, remembering Lightning’s words from yesterday, when he had told her he never would have had the courage to board the Purge train deliberately.

“Now you’re learning,” Lightning said, the tiniest smile beginning to crack on her face. “Keep your eyes front. I’ll watch the rear.”

With that, Hope nervously took hold of the Airwing, setting out in the lead. “What is this place, anyway?” he asked.

“Biomechanoid research facility,” explained Lightning. “All the bioweapons the Sanctum army deploys are developed here. Ordinary plants and animals transformed into cybernetic killing machines.”

“So we could get jumped by monsters at any time?” he asked.

“Be wary,” Lightning said. “But don’t be afraid. We can handle them.”

“Okay,” said Hope. He led them down the catwalk, breathing deeply and pushing aside his feelings of panic. Strange creatures slithered along the path ahead of them, cyborg slugs the size of dogs with metallic skin and glowing conduits carrying nutrients through their bodies. 

“Just block out everything else,” he told himself as they noticed him, launching globs of flaming mucus in his direction. If they’re flammable, he thought, I can use that. He drew forth fire from his brand, throwing it at them and smiling as the mucus instantly flashed, incinerating them.

“Good eye,” Lightning praised. “You saw their weakness. Don’t go chasing after enemies, though. It’s a surefire way to get ambushed.”

The path ended at an elevator, attached to thick cable-like vines through which pulsed glowing energy. “Have you ever been here before?” asked Hope. “On duty, I mean.”

“No, I haven’t,” she admitted. She knew of the Whitewood, and her access codes were valid here as it was primarily a GC facility, but it was her first time seeing it as well. All kinds of cybernetic enhancements were developed and tested here, most of which would never see field use. “This area’s covered by the Woodlands Observation Battalion. You scared?”

“Not really,” said Hope. It was partially a lie, but it was one he told himself knowing it would only be true if he played the part first. “I’m ready to fight if I have to.”

“Here,” said Lightning, pulling a small combat knife out of her pocket and handing it to him. “To keep you safe.” Maybe it’ll help give him a little more confidence, she thought.

“Uh…” Hope started, taking the knife and looking it over, noticing her name was engraved on the blade.

“I’ll want it back,” she said, turning and walking to the elevator.

“Lightning?” he called, folding the knife and slipping it into his pocket. “I’m glad I followed you. By myself, I would have had no chance.”

He could easily have stayed with Sazh and Vanille, Lightning knew, and tried to run away from this whole mess. There was obviously something he wasn’t telling her, but she didn’t feel she had the right to pry. 

“Time to move,” she simply said, boarding the elevator. “Trust me to cover your tail, and stay focused on moving forward,” she instructed as the elevator delivered them to another catwalk above them.

“Right,” said Hope, pulling out the Airwing once more as a strange creature with a glowing, fluid-filled abdomen flew toward them, raising its stinger.

“Study your enemy’s actions,” advised Lightning. “That’ll help you form a strategy.”

The creature thrust its stinger forward, shooting venom into Lightning’s neck before she could dodge out of the way. “Light!” he called out, digging in his pocket for the emergency rations they had divvied up before setting out that morning. “There we go,” he sighed, finally closing his fingers around a universal antidote pack that he tossed over to her.

“Thanks,” she said, injecting herself and throwing a sphere of gravity back at the creature. “Vespids like that can be knocked back with wind, Hope!”

“All right,” he said, throwing the Airwing in a magically-enhanced arc around their enemy and whipping the air into a whirlwind. “Try this on for size!”

The creature spun around, unable to stabilize itself, and tumbled to the catwalk. Lightning struck it with the saber, shattering its glassy abdomen and splattering its fuel onto the floor. “Now you’re getting it,” she said. “Focus on your strengths, and always look for your enemy’s weaknesses.”

“Uhh,” Hope said, noticing as they rounded a corner that the path was blocked by a behemoth. “What about that one?”

“Don’t panic,” reassured Lightning as it charged at them. “It’s big, but it’s slow. We can use that against it.”

Hope quickly conjured a shield as the behemoth swiped at them with its massive metallicized claws. He and Lightning stumbled back from the force of its blow, but were mostly unharmed.

“I’ll keep it busy!” Lightning said, feinting at it with her saber. “You try and short out its implants!”

“Gotcha!” he yelled, condensing a ball of water from the moisture in the air and drowning the behemoth in it. It struggled as the water seeped into the servos enhancing its muscles, diluting the steroid cocktail that flowed through its veins. “How about this, Light?” he asked, throwing a bolt of electricity next, charging the water and electrocuting the creature.

“Nice combo,” she smiled. They continued down the catwalk, but Hope stopped abruptly. “What is it?”

“We need to hide!” shouted Hope, grabbing her arm and pulling her behind a large frond of crystalline leaves. Three army-issue velocycles roared past through the area they had just been standing. “They don’t seem like they’re even looking for us,” he mused after they had gone. “I mean, we’re l’Cie and we’re on the loose!”

“PSICOM’s keeping it all under wraps,” Lightning explained. It wasn’t just the public being lied to; even the GC was being kept in the dark. “They don’t want their failure publicized. Better to lose us than lose their pride.” She wondered if even some Sanctum officials were unaware they had escaped.

“So the other soldiers don’t know about us,” said Hope. “Right?”

“Right,” she agreed. “They don’t know anything about any fugitives. Still, stay on guard,” she added, spotting another wall that separated different sectors of the Whitewood. “That’s one of the bulkhead fal’Cie. We’ll need to pass through, and we don’t want to alert it to who we are.”

“I wonder how the others are doing,” remarked Hope, sitting down as Lightning keyed in her code once more.

“Sazh and Vanille?” said Lightning. “Who knows. Even if they got away, they’ll get caught eventually. Then, they’ll have to choose: resist or surrender.” She paced back and forth nervously. The fal’Cie was taking a long time to process her security code, and she was worried it might have figured out who she was.

“Surrender…” Hope muttered. If they surrendered, even he knew they’d be executed without a thought. I can’t worry about them, he realized. Sazh had made the choice to fight against Anima, and Vanille’s head always seemed to be in the clouds. Whatever happened to them was no longer relevant. There was only one other l’Cie whose fate he still cared about. “I wonder if he’s still alive.”

“You mean Snow?” asked Lightning, suddenly angry. “He’s too stubborn to die. And that’s his best quality! He’s arrogant and chummy from the get-go. He thinks he’s everybody’s pal. Never liked him much.”

“You’ve known him for a while, then?”

“Been a thorn in my side for years,” she admitted. “He leads around a bunch of troublemakers in Bodhum. A gang called ‘NORA.’”

Hope gritted his teeth at the mention, his mind instantly flashing back to the moment his mother had been taken from him. The gang’s name was a bitter irony; his mother had also been called Nora, and she had died because of them. Because of Snow. “Where did they get the name?” he asked grimly.

“It’s a stupid acronym,” Lightning told him, shaking her head. “It’s their little code, you see. Stands for ‘No Obligations, Rules, or Authority.’ Must be a nice way to live, never caring about the consequences of your actions.”

“It’s irresponsible,” Hope agreed, his face set with anger.

The force field blocking their way lowered as the fal’Cie finally had no choice but to grant them access. Beyond waited another elevator, and they boarded, descending to the forest floor.

“Stay sharp, Hope,” said Lightning, looking around as they stepped off among the facility’s animal pens. “This is where the army turns wildlife into weapons. There are a lot of feral creatures in this zone. They’re a little different from the military breeds.”

“Civilians aren’t allowed in here, are they?” he asked, as a pack of wild lobos prowled on the other side of an electric fence.

“We’ll have to be sure and tell them if we see any,” she snarked. “Just be careful. Wild animals may not have enhancements, but they can be much more unpredictable than the trained-to-kill variety.”

They made their way through the cages, passing unmodified versions of the panthers, crawlers, and vespids they had seen used as weaponry. They hadn’t gone a hundred yards, however, before they reached a dead end. “What now?”

Lightning climbed atop a massive cable that channeled power between the cyborg trees that now towered above them. “There,” she said, pointing to an enclosure below that opened up to another path. “Be prepared to fight.”

“All right,” said Hope, clambering over the cable and down into the pen. There was no sign of anything yet, but it was eerily quiet, and the exit was blocked by another electric fence.

“Those fences are for holding in the animals,” explained Lightning. “It should power down as soon as we take care of our cage-mates.” As if on cue, another behemoth leapt in from across the pen, roaring at them. This one was a wild specimen, however, and bore no implants, only a rudimentary armor of leather. “Protect us, Hope, just like we’ve been practicing. Let’s take it down!”

Hope hardened the air once more, jumping back as the behemoth rushed to pounce on him, and flooding it with water like he had with the biomechanical one they had fought above. This behemoth, however, seemed only annoyed by the water, and effortlessly flung Lightning out of the way as she tried to block its blow.

“Light!” he yelled, knitting her wounds as she stood back up. “What do we do?”

“Behemoths are warm-weather fiends!” she called, distracting it with spheres of gravitational ruin. “See those long flaps behind its ears? They’re for dissipating heat!”

“Got it!” Hope cried, conjuring a blizzard of ice around the monster. It reared back in pain, and he followed it up with a piercing gale of wind. “We can win this!”

Lightning leapt atop the beast, slicing through the vulnerable flaps of skin and causing the creature to stagger onto the floor, writhing in agony. “Now!” she yelled.

Hope drew forth fire from his brand, surrounding the beast in an inferno as Lightning jumped back. Without the flaps to cool it, the behemoth couldn’t tolerate the heat anymore, and slowly stopped struggling, the acrid smell of burnt flesh filling the air as it died.

As Lightning had predicted, the electric fence instantly shut down, no longer detecting the creature’s life signs. She sliced through the wire mesh that remained, and they proceeded onto the path beyond. “We’ve tripped the security alarm,” she warned, noticing a flashing light on the control panel. “The Observation Battalion will be coming.”

“Let them come,” Hope said. With every battle, his fear lessened, and he pressed ahead.

“Up there,” said Lightning, pointing to another catwalk above them. There was no elevator, but a metallic vine as big around as the behemoth led upward. “You can handle a climb like this.”

“Right,” he said, scrambling up the vine, not even hesitating as he leapt across the gap onto the walkway.

“Take five,” Lightning said as soon as she had confirmed the way was clear.

Hope knelt down, panting, exhaustion finally getting to him. He sat back, pulling out the knife she had given him, and picked a piece of crystal leaf off the nearest frond, whittling away at it.

“What’s eating you?” she asked him finally. “I can tell you’re hung up on something. Is it the whole l’Cie thing?”

Hope didn’t answer, slicing the leaf in half and letting it crumble to dust in his hand. 

“It’s Snow, isn’t it?” Lightning said, finally realizing why Hope had been at the Vestige in the first place. Snow must have done something to make him angry enough to chase him through a war zone to such a dangerous place. “What happened with him?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Hope snapped. How the hell could a fearless soldier like her ever understand what it was like to be left alone like that?

She walked up to him and knelt down. After losing Serah, she understood better than he could imagine. “You and I are partners now, Hope.”

Hope sighed deeply, his hands shaking as he thought again about what had happened. “My mother was killed,” he finally told her. “Nora. She died because of him.”

“I see,” said Lightning. So Snow had dragged his mother into the fighting, and because of that, Hope had snuck into the Vestige to follow him. Now he was a l’Cie as well, all because of Snow’s bluster and irresponsibility.

“It’s his fault,” Hope went on, flicking the knife open, then closed again, over and over as he spoke. “He needs to pay for it. I’m not ready yet, but I will be. Soon.” He stood up, closing the knife once and for all and placing it back in his pocket. “That’s why I followed you. Snow dragged us all into this. You, me, and your sister Serah. He’s gotta pay.”

What have I done? Lightning wondered. Snow was an arrogant buffoon, yes, but surely Hope didn’t really plan to kill him. Did he? “I’ll take the lead,” she said. “Time to move.” She took out the saber, slicing through a frond of crystal leaves that blocked the path, and started forth.

“Could I use one of those?” asked Hope, envious at the ease with which she wielded the Blazefire Saber.

“Bit too heavy for you,” she said, sheathing it. 

“Okay,” Hope said, frowning. He took out the knife once more. This will have to do, then, he thought.

Lightning watched him as he held it, his face still burning with anger. The knife had been a present from Serah, for her birthday only two days prior, and she wondered what her sister would think if she saw Hope wielding it now, knowing how much hatred he felt for her husband-to-be.

FOURTEEN

“Lovely,” Lightning muttered to herself, staring at the birthday cake on her kitchen table. This was just great. She knew Serah and Snow had been seeing each other for some time now, but she hadn’t thought it was actually serious.

“Light!” cried Serah. “We’re getting married now, because…” She took a deep breath, shaking with fear, as Snow put his arm around her. “I might not have time,” she continued, her voice tearing up as she reached up to take his hand. “Light, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

“Shouldn’t have what?” she said. “Said yes?”

In response, Serah slowly unwrapped the bandage from her arm, turning around to show Lightning what was hiding beneath. A Pulse brand, seared into her skin as punishment for her curiosity.

“What is this?” said Lightning, shaking her head. “Is this some kind of a joke? Is this meant to distract me from you wanting to marry Snow? Because it’s not gonna work.”

“It’s not a joke, Light!” said Serah, sobbing. “It’s real. I’m… I’m a l’Cie.”

“What?” she snapped. “You became a l’Cie, so now you’re gonna marry this idiot? And you think I’m gonna buy that? Full points for originality. Don’t forget,” she added, standing up. “If you really are a l’Cie, it’s my job to deal with you.”

Deal with me? Serah thought, looking into her sister’s eyes. Like… “Sis…” she started to say.

“This is ridiculous,” muttered Lightning. “Worst birthday ever.”

Serah ran out of the room, crying uncontrollably.

“Wait!” called Snow. “Serah!” He turned to Lightning. “Why won’t you believe her?”

“Are you kidding me?” she responded. “She gets made a l’Cie, and you pop the question?”

“Lightning, stop it!” Snow yelled, slamming his hands on the table.

“No, you stop it!” she retorted. “You march in here with a sob story and that five-gil tattoo, and think that’s gonna make me okay with this? Get out of my house!”

“You’re shutting her out!” insisted Snow. “She’s your sister!”

“Hmph,” she muttered. 

“Fine,” Snow said. “I’ll do it. I’ll protect her.” He turned and stomped off, following Serah.

Lightning sighed, wondering if she had gone too far this time. Making up a story like this had Snow written all over it, but Serah had seemed genuinely afraid. More than she should have been just because Lightning disapproved of her choice of fiancé.

She silently cleared off the table, putting the untouched cake in the refrigerator. As she stowed the last of the silverware into the dishwasher, her eyes turned back to the table and the still-unopened present Serah had given her. She sighed, untying the wrapping and lifting the lid on the box. 

Inside was a folding knife, engraved with her name. “How practical,” she muttered. A beeping noise interrupted her thoughts as the TV lit up with an emergency broadcast.

“This is an urgent Sanctum bulletin,” came a voice from the screen, where a newscaster stood in front of an ominous image of the Vestige at the edge of town. “Late last night, officials confirmed the presence of a Pulse fal’Cie inside the city of Bodhum.”

“Shit,” she said, gripping the edge of the table. It had been no joke, she realized.

“Acting with fal’Cie Eden’s approval,” the broadcast continued, “authorities have declared a state of emergency. Effective immediately, the entire district is now under a state of quarantine in response to this crisis. No one will be allowed in or out of Bodhum until further notice.”

She ran out of the house, looking desperately to see where her sister had gone. “Serah!” she called out, but neither she nor Snow were anywhere to be found. They had both left because she was too stubborn to listen. 

High above the beach, the ominous face that adorned the top of the Pulse Vestige opened its mouth to scream, and a chilling sound could be heard across the entire city as the fal’Cie within sensed danger. “What the hell?” Lightning said, turning around as a fleet of PSICOM airships circled around the Vestige.

“There they are!” a voice shouted, and a squad of troopers dashed across the boardwalk from Leviathan’s Fountain. “This way! Stop them!”

“Serah!” cried Lightning as she and Snow ran into view, the PSICOM soldiers in hot pursuit. She ran as fast as she could, but they were dozens of yards away.

“Here!” Snow yelled, climbing into an army velocycle and starting the engine as Serah clung to him for dear life. He spun it around, blowing the soldiers back with the thrust, and shot out over the open ocean.

“No!” Lightning screamed as soldiers opened fire from the shore, unable to do anything as bullets and grenades streaked toward them on all sides. The velocycle swung around, rocketing back over the plaza and soaring over the bay toward the Vestige on the other side, smoke pouring forth from its stabilizers as it was pelted with gunfire.

She pulled out a small pocket scope, looking on with anger as Snow piloted the craft directly up to the top floor of the Vestige, where a massive door awaited amidst the living clockwork. “What the hell is he doing?” she yelled as her sister jumped from the damaged velocycle onto the ledge in front of it. “Does he actually think that thing’s gonna help her?”

Serah turned around, reaching for Snow as he tried desperately to stabilize the damaged cycle. From far below, Lightning could only watch in horror as tentacles of liquid crystal snaked forth from the force field that blocked the door, ensnaring Serah in their grip and pulling her inside. The great doors snapped shut instantly, and a bolt of energy issued forth from the fal’Cie, blowing out the velocycle’s AMP rotor.

“Serah!” she screamed. Snow’s cycle fell from the sky in a plume of black smoke, and the fal’Cie was silent once more. Serah was gone, sealed inside the Vestige with the very being that had cursed her. In that moment, Lightning made a silent promise to herself. She would get Serah out of that place if it was the last thing she did, PSICOM and the fal’Cie alike be damned. Little did she know at the time just how much it would cost her, and just how futile it would turn out to be.

* * *

Lightning and Hope walked in silence, stopping as they came to a grisly sight. The bodies of three Guardian Corps soldiers lay on the catwalk, torn apart by the angry teeth and claws of the Whitewood’s dangerous animals.

“What happened here?” gasped Hope, slightly queasy at the carnage.

“Bad luck,” Lightning responded. “They came looking for us, and found something worse.”

“We can’t just leave them like this,” said Hope, reaching out to one of them.

“Don’t touch anything!” snapped Lightning, yanking him back with so much force he lost his balance and fell over. “Control your emotions, Hope. If you want to survive, you forget about sympathy.” It was harsh, but she knew that if they left any trace of their presence here, they would only draw more soldiers to their position.

“But…” Hope started.

“How can I explain?” She knelt down in front of him. “Think of it like a strategy. Focus on your ultimate goal and shut out everything else. Still your mind, and move on instinct.”

“My goal,” repeated Hope.

“Let doubt take over,” she warned, “and despair will cripple you.”

“Strategy,” Hope continued. “Good. I’ll take anything to help me get through this.” He stood up, pacing a few steps away. “I’ll call it ‘Operation Nora.’”

“Nora,” she repeated. “After your mother? So this is…your revenge?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Don’t tell me. I know getting revenge on him won’t… It won’t bring her back. I know that! But ‘sorry’ won’t cut it.” 

“Hope!” she called out as he turned and began to walk away. She knew exactly how Hope felt; only hours earlier she might have even agreed with him. Even now, a part of her longed to wipe that smug grin off of Snow’s face for good, but she knew that if Serah were still here, she would never be forgiven. “Snow didn’t kill your mother. The Sanctum did.”

“Whose side are you on?” snapped Hope.

“The side of truth,” Lightning said. “The Sanctum and their fal’Cie puppetmasters are the ones that did this.”

“Fine,” Hope said, drawing the knife. “I’ll fight the Sanctum with you. I’ll learn to survive.”

“Heads up!” she called. They had lingered here far too long, and the Woodlands Observation Battalion had located them. Three more soldiers and a combat-equipped velocycle were charging toward them as they spoke.

“Right,” said Hope, drawing the Airwing. “This is it, then. Operation Nora.” If the Sanctum was his enemy, then they would taste his revenge instead. He charged forward, magical fire scorching the floor in front of him as the soldiers staggered backward. Unrelenting, he called forth whirlwinds and bolts of electricity, his face expressionless as the men screamed in pain and collapsed to the floor before him. This was war, and there was no place for sympathy.

The velocycle opened fire, bullets slowing to a crawl in the thickened air and bouncing harmlessly off Hope’s chest as he conjured a miniature tornado that spun the vehicle off course and slammed it into the trunk of the nearest cyborg tree. The pilot began to climb out, but Hope forced water down his throat, choking and drowning him without mercy. 

Maybe he did feel remorse, but Hope would be damned if he was going to let it show. All that mattered now was his revenge. “Operation Nora, stage one complete,” he intoned flatly, stashing the Airwing back in his pocket and stepping over the soldiers’ corpses.

Lightning sighed, worried about the damage to the boy’s psyche. She had never met Nora Estheim, but couldn’t imagine any mother would want to see her son turning into a ruthless killer like her. What could she say now, though? “You did well,” she simply said, following him around another bend to the last bulkhead. One final door, beyond which lay open countryside and the road to Palumpolum.

She crossed her fingers, keying in her access code one more time. If any of those soldiers had gotten off a distress call and identified them as l’Cie, she knew they would be trapped here. Hell, with the fighting that close, the fal’Cie controlling the door should have sensed the fireworks show Hope had produced. Yet the force field powered down, and the door slid back without hesitation, as if fate was on their side for once.

Beyond the wall awaited normal bushes and grass, and a dirt road winding down to the seashore, with the gleaming domes and spires of the city visible not more than a mile away. “That’s it,” said Hope as it came into view.

“That’s where you live, right?” Lightning asked.

“Not anymore,” Hope replied with an air of finality. “We’re l’Cie now. There’s no one left but my dad, and he doesn’t care.”

“Hope,” she implored. “You need to let him know what happened.”

The boy was silent, however, and stalked off in the direction of the city.

* * *

“Come on, Bartholomew,” said Nora. “This only happens once a year. At least do it for his sake!”

“Why?” her husband snapped. “You’re both happier when I’m not around anyway.”

“You know that’s not true,” she pleaded. “He’s your son, for the gods’ sake!”

Hope sighed, getting up to shut the door to his room. They were at it again, like they were every time something like this came up. If he had had a gil for every time they argued like this, he would be able to pay for an apartment just for him and his mom. The truth was, he was happier when his father stayed home. All he would do would be to stay in the hotel room and watch TV anyway, and that would be the best case scenario.

No, he realized. They’d bring their fighting all the way to Bodhum, and he would be the one pleading with them both to stop. He sat down glumly on his bed, picking up the controller and unpausing his video game, trying desperately to lose himself in it. 

Even leading the charge against invading armies from Pulse wasn’t enough to distract him, though, as an enemy l’Cie struck his character with a Firaga spell and the battle was replaced with a green game over screen. He tossed the controller aside, gazing at a photograph on the shelf. In it, he stood smiling with his former best friend Doreena, surrounded by their classmates during a school field trip to the Sunleth Waterscape.

They had been inseparable, but then her family had moved away to Eden, and it hadn’t been long before she stopped writing. She was growing up, had started dating, and was no longer interested in playing pretend with Hope. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to make very many other friends since, and the bullying at school had gotten nearly unbearable in the last year.

Kids teased him for being too soft-spoken, for being too nerdy, for not liking sports and spending all his time on the computer. Why couldn’t he just grow up and act macho like the other boys? Why had his parents had given him such a girly name anyway? Maybe he was gay, they would sneer, and before long no one would even give him a friendly look in the hall. 

He tried desperately to fit in, practicing with his Airwing and pretending he enjoyed it, but he was already branded as an outsider, and the only person who understood was his mother. She would comfort him when he would come home crying, while his father would simply look on from a distance, muttering about when he would act like a man. Only his mom seemed to be happy when he was just himself.

Finally, the muffled yelling from the living room ceased, and there was a soft knock on his door. “It’s me, Hope,” said Nora.

“Come in, mom,” he said.

“He won’t come,” she told him. “He just gave me his credit card and said the two of us should have fun.”

“It’s better this way,” said Hope. “He doesn’t care about me anyway.”

“Hope,” she said, ruffling his hair. “Don’t say stuff like that. But,” she added, sitting next to him on the bed, “let’s enjoy ourselves anyway. Make a wish on the fireworks this year!”

“Don’t tell me you believe in silly stuff like that,” he said. “Wishing on fireworks is for little kids. It’s time for me to grow up.”

“Take your time,” she said. “You can be a kid as long as you need to. I love you no matter what.”

FIFTEEN

“Task force reporting,” came a soldier’s voice from up ahead as Lightning and Hope quickly hid behind an army truck. PSICOM was one step ahead of them again, and had set up a blockade on the road into town.

“We can make it,” said Hope, peering out at the scene. There were a lot of soldiers, but the trucks, barricades, and crates of weapons and ammunition provided a lot of cover for them to remain unseen. “Get to the station, and board the train for Eden.”

Lightning looked up at the city, not seeing any sign of traffic on the Aerorail tracks that led beyond. “You think its still running?”

“Well if it isn’t,” declared Hope, “we’ll make it run.”

“Then punch straight into the heart of the Sanctum?” she asked, making sure Hope was truly on board with this. “Now you’re thinking like a Pulse l’Cie.”

“Well, this is Operation Nora,” he said. “It’s not just Snow I’m after. The Sanctum’s gotta pay too.”

“Hm,” Lightning sighed. He’s not gonna let this go, is he?

“Hey, you’re the one who said we had to fight!” insisted Hope. “Every minute we waste, we’re tempting fate. There are some underground tunnels not far from here. I used to play in them when I was a kid.”

You still are, Hope, she thought, but didn’t say anything. No one this young should be forced into a war.

“No one uses the entrance anymore,” he continued. “Even the army doesn’t know about it, but I do. We can sneak in under their noses.”

“Sounds good,” she agreed.

“Great,” said Hope. “Here we go!”

The two of them waited until the soldiers ahead had turned their backs, then sprinted down the street from one hiding spot to the next. If they were spotted here, the entire army would hone in on them.

“Huh,” Lightning remarked, noticing the soldiers’ varied uniforms as they ducked behind a crate. “No more rivalries now. They’ve brought in the Guardian Corps.” She wondered if she would have to face her old squadmates, or even Lieutenant Amodar himself. Would he hesitate, knowing what had happened to Serah? No, she knew. She had thrown that life away, and she was an enemy combatant now.

“Okay, there’s an old drainage pipe over there,” said Hope, pointing. “We can use it to avoid being seen. The tunnel entrance is a little further up.” They ran ahead once more, squeezing between two parked trucks and coming out next to a damaged storm drain. “In here,” Hope pointed out, and they dropped into the gutter below.

Hope gritted his teeth as they made their way through. Last time he had been in here, he and Doreena had been playing make-believe, pretending they were defending Cocoon from Pulse invasion. How bitter the irony, he thought, running his fingers over the brand on his wrist. He climbed up the ladder on the other end, dashing into the forgotten hole in the pipe beyond.

To their right, the tunnel dropped down to an underground railyard where out-of-service subway trains were stored, and to their left it opened into a massive, lit-up chamber from which came the mulchy smell of incubating biomass. The Automated Nutriculture Complex, where a fal’Cie converted raw proteins into every imaginable foodstuff. “This way,” he said, turning to the left.

The scuffed concrete of the tunnel quickly gave way to polished brass pipes and catwalks as they left the tunnel behind. At the center sat Carbuncle, the fal’Cie which watched over this silent underground farm, spinning slowly and staring out with its twin expressionless faces.

“Don’t worry,” Hope said. “It’ll be fine. Only kids like me know about that entrance.” Just me and Doreena, he thought. It was our secret hideout.

“They’ll find it,” Lightning warned, shaking her head. “They’ll call in a team, and canvass this whole tunnel system.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” Hope said, starting forth.

“So, where does this come out, anyway?”

“Well…” he said, slightly embarrassed. “I don’t really know for sure.” The truth was, this was as far as he had ever been. Carbuncle had given him the creeps back then, and even now, he wasn’t anxious to get near another fal’Cie. He knew, however, that Carbuncle was located directly under Palumpolum’s central square.

“Well,” Lightning said. “We’ll find out today.”

At least for now, the facility was empty of soldiers or other people; their only companions as they made their way down the catwalk were trays of matted algae, biomechanized flans carrying out maintenance work, and the ever-present fal’Cie at the center.

“I learned about this place in school,” he said absent-mindedly. “Everything we ate came from down here.”

“And our two-faced friend here?” asked Lightning as they paused to look out at the entity, floating in midair and surrounded by a veil of glowing golden energy. The presence was all-consuming, not quite malevolent as Anima had been, but not friendly either. It was cold and calculating, a computerized demigod that knew only logic and programming.

“The city’s food-production fal’Cie,” Hope explained. “Name’s Carbuncle, and it manages this entire facility.”

“Hm,” said Lightning, staring as it rotated in silence. “Either it hasn’t noticed us yet, or it just doesn’t register us as a threat.”

“That’s one of our enemies, isn’t it,” said Hope. “Being Sanctum and all.”

“So,” she mused. “We kill him, and cut off the food supply. That’ll make us popular.”

Hope looked down. It was what a Pulse l’Cie would do, and it made strategic sense, but who would suffer the most? Even he knew the Sanctum troops would be the last ones affected by a famine. “I think…people have enough reason to hate us, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” agreed Lightning. “You’re right. Hungry people make for angry people.” If Carbuncle didn’t see them as a threat, she was content to let it do its job and keep the population fed. Hurting more innocents was not what she was after.

“Well, at least I’m pretty sure we’re right underneath the center of town now,” said Hope. “Look at us. Pulse l’Cie, on a mission to take down the Sanctum, but we’re using one of their fal’Cie to tell where we’re going. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” she countered. “We’ve relied on them our whole lives. The food we eat, the light, the water. It’s all from the fal’Cie. You know,” she said, staring out at Carbuncle as one of its blank faces spun past her. “I think Cocoon was really built for them. The rest of us? We’re just leeches. Parasites.”

“You think?” Hope asked her. “But they protect us. They nurture us. They take care of us…well… They take care of normal people. They treat us like we’re special, almost like…”

“Like pets,” Lightning realized. “To them, we are just pets.”

“Yeah,” said Hope. “And now that someone else has the leash…”

“Now it makes sense,” said Lightning as the pieces began to fall into place. “All this time, I’ve been blind.”

“Huh?”

“I was born into a fal’Cie world,” Lightning went on. “Raised on a fal’Cie leash. It was the only life I knew how to live, and when it was taken from me, I was completely lost. Without a master to follow, my life had no purpose.”

“I don’t understand,” Hope said.

“Hope, listen to me,” she declared, turning to face him. “This l’Cie curse took everything from me. It took my future, my dreams, every plan I had ever made for my life. I didn’t want to think, so I fought instead. I was a soldier, and it was all I knew how to do. As long as I was fighting, nothing else was real.”

“What do you mean?” he asked her.

“I was running away,” she admitted. “Running away from what really mattered. And you, Hope, you got swept right along with me.”

“What are you saying, Light?”

“Operation Nora is over,” she told him.

“What?” cried Hope. “You can’t… You told me to fight!”

“I made a mistake!” she shouted. Hope was only fourteen, and he was already looking at the world as a cold-blooded killer. The same cold-blooded killer she had been when this began, she knew, and she didn’t want that on her conscience.

“You can’t do this,” he said, shaking. “You can’t build something up like that, then just abandon me!”

“I won’t abandon you, Hope,” she promised, putting her arms on his shoulders. “Not again. I won’t.” What was fighting even for, if she wasn’t fighting to protect something important? Odin had taught her that much. She had abandoned Serah, and lost her only chance to save her before she had turned to crystal. She had abandoned Sazh and Vanille, and now who knew if they were even still alive? Now, she knew she had a chance to protect Hope, and keep him from turning out like her.

“So what do we do now?” asked Hope as they walked on. “We’re l’Cie! Ticking time bombs! Enemies of Cocoon. If we can’t follow the plan, do we just lay down and die?”

“I didn’t mean we should give up,” she reassured.

“Then what battles do we fight?” Hope cried. “Against who? Tell me!”

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. It was a scary position to be in, especially for someone who always had a plan. But her plan had been wrong, she knew now, and following it blindly would only get them both killed.

“You don’t know yet?” spat Hope.

“That’s right, I don’t know yet. I’m still figuring that part out, but I do know we can’t lose hope.”

“‘Hope,’” he grumbled, shaking his head at the irony. “There is no hope. Not for l’Cie.”

“There’s you,” she said, looking at him as he sat down on a staircase.

“It’s just my name,” he muttered, burying his head in his hands. “It’s not who I am.”

“I was just like you, once,” admitted Lightning. “My parents died. I had to be strong for Serah, so I thought I needed to forget my past, and I became Lightning. I dropped out of school, enlisted in the army, and forgot about everything I had wanted before. I thought that by changing my name, I could change who I was. But I was just a kid. Just like you. ‘Lightning.’ It flashes bright, then fades away. It can’t protect. It only destroys. 

“Serah tried to tell me,” she continued, sitting next to Hope. “But I wouldn’t listen. She told me she was a l’Cie, and I threatened her. I didn’t believe her. The only one who did…was Snow.”

“Don’t say it!” he screamed. “Don’t say his name! It… It brings everything back. I keep seeing it in my head, what happened to her, and then I see his stupid face and… And he’s smiling! How can he smile when she’s dead!”

Lightning reached out her hand to him, but he jumped up and stood back. 

“I know!” he cried. “There’s nothing I can do about it. I hate knowing that. That no matter what happens, she’s gone and she’s not coming back. But when I was fighting, there was no time to think about it. It felt good… Just to give in.”

“I know,” Lightning agreed. “It feels good in the moment. But then the moment is gone.”

“Now,” he stammered. “Now you start talking about hope… I’m sorry. I’m… I’m messed up.”

“No,” she said, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs. At the end of the walkway, an elevator led to the surface. “It’s my fault. Hope, talk to your dad.”

“What?” he asked. “Why?”

“Fighting without hope is no way to live,” she told him. “It’s just a way to die.”

“But…”

“I want you to find the hope you were named for,” continued Lightning. “Staying alive, I can help you with. But I can’t give you hope. If you go to see your father…”

“You think meeting my dad will make anything better?” he interrupted, clutching at the brand on his wrist. “He’s never listened to a word I’ve said. He’ll never believe all this l’Cie stuff.”

“You think he’ll turn you in?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” mused Hope. His father was distant, unemotional, and conservative, the kind of man that would have supported the Purge without a second thought if his own family hadn’t been involved. What his father would do upon finding out that he was a Pulse l’Cie and Nora had been murdered by the Sanctum, however, he truly didn’t know. “Snow… He believed Serah, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” admitted Lightning. “He did.”

SIXTEEN

“All right!” called Fang, swaggering into the Lindblum’s mess hall where Snow sat pensively, holding Serah’s crystal tear in his hand. “Time to hunt some l’Cie!”

“So, what?” asked Snow. “We find them, and that’s that? It’s over?”

“Oh, don’t get all hot and bothered,” Fang snarked. “Us hopeless romantics gotta stick together, remember?”

“Serah…” Snow said, staring into the crystal’s impossibly complex facets. “Am I doing the right thing?”

“Snow!” she said, but he was lost in his own thoughts again. She sighed, walking over and smacking him on the side of the head to snap him out of it.

“Ow,” he said finally, turning around to look at her.

“Ugh,” Fang groaned, shaking the impact out of her hand. “I knew you were hard-headed, but…”

“That was,” said Snow, rubbing his temple. “Ow!”

“Snap to it!” she said, tossing him a tablet. “These two just popped up on the radar in Palumpolum. Friends of yours?”

He looked over at the tablet, instantly recognizing the dossiers of Lightning and Hope. “Yeah,” he said.

“Cid’s been monitoring PSICOM chatter,” she told him. “They’re mobilizing an all-out assault force to intercept them, which means we’ve gotta get there first.”

“Right,” said Snow. “Hunting l’Cie.”

“Now you’re getting it,” she said, smiling. “We’ll be arriving any minute. Come on, let’s move out!”

“I will keep my promise, Lightning,” he said, looking into the crystal tear one more time, then stowing it safely in his pocket. He stood up resolutely, following Fang down to the flight deck as she slung her crimson lance over her shoulder and boarded a transport.

“Welcome aboard!” called Rygdea from the pilot’s seat as Snow strapped in next to Fang. “Next stop, Palumpolum!” He powered up the transport’s engine, undocking and flying them clear of the Lindblum toward the city below. “Welp.” Between them and the city was an entire fleet of PSICOM troop carriers, with fighters, velocycles, and flying bioweapons buzzing between them like so many deadly gnats.

“Are we too late?” Snow wondered.

“Anything on comms?” Fang asked.

Rygdea flipped through the comm channels, stopping on one as a voice came over the speakers. “Attention all units. This is Director Rosch, PSICOM division. Cocoon is caught in the grip of a Pulse-borne terror. If we allow l’Cie activity to continue, panic will rip our world apart. The peace and stability we have fought so hard to maintain will be nothing but a memory.”

“Well, he’s certainly self-important,” remarked Fang.

“That’s Yaag Rosch,” clarified Rygdea. “Director of PSICOM, self-described ‘man of the people,’ and the Sanctum’s truest believer.”

“Pulse l’Cie threaten our very way of life,” Rosch’s voice continued. “There can be no hesitation. There can be no mercy. They are not people, they are targets, and they must be eliminated. If we fail, our citizens will pay the price.”

“Just wait till his face meets my fist,” said Snow.

“Rygdea, land us on the other side of town,” Fang ordered. “Do not engage until we locate the l’Cie.”

“You got it,” he said, swinging the transport in a wide arc across the edge of the Gapra Whitewood and bringing them to a landing in an empty lot on the far edge of the city. “Good luck out there.”

“You know the layout of this town?” asked Fang as they stepped off the transport.

“In theory,” said Snow, looking over the dossiers one more time. “Been here once before. According to this, Hope lives here.”

“Think the kid’ll head home?” she asked. 

“I would if it were me,” he confirmed. “Felix Heights neighborhood. That way.” The army had set up checkpoints throughout the city, however, and finding Lightning and Hope before they did was not going to be an easy task. 

“Halt!” a soldier said, glaring at Fang as they stepped out onto a busy commercial street. “This city is under emergency military jurisdiction. Civilians are not permitted to carry weapons.”

“What, this old thing?” she said, taking the bladed lance from her back, tossing it casually in the air and catching it effortlessly. You wanna taste? she thought to herself, biting her tongue. “Family heirloom.”

“Dammit,” muttered Snow. There was only the one soldier around, but throngs of people were still out among the shops and restaurants. Stealth was not his style either, but even he could tell Fang stuck out like a sore thumb with her colorful outfit, exotic tattoo, and brash attitude. “We were just on our way home,” he said. “Won’t happen again.”

“Mmm,” grumbled the soldier. He was Guardian Corps, not PSICOM, and this particular order had come from Rosch. “Be careful,” he said. “Word has it there could be l’Cie loose in the city. Might wanna stay inside.”

“You don’t say,” said Fang. “Come on then. Off we go.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t…” Snow started to say as they walked away, trying at least to stay in the shadows.

“What?” she asked. “It really is a family heirloom.”

“In a recently convened emergency conference,” interrupted a voice from a TV outside a restaurant. “The Sanctum announced that the fugitive l’Cie have been located. These images are coming to you live from the scene in Palumpolum.”

“Snow!” yelled Fang, pointing at the image on the screen. A shaky overhead camera shot zoomed in on Hope and Lightning, emerging from an elevator in a large plaza. “You know where that is?”

“Carbuncle Square!” Snow cried, taking off running. “This way!” The roar of AMP engines filled the air as army velocycles and skytanks began to converge on the other side of a building from them. Dashing through an alley, he kicked aside one soldier, catching his gun as it flew through the air, and tossed another clean off the balcony into the plaza below.

“Start running,” came Lightning’s voice as Snow peered over the edge. She and Hope stood back to back, surrounded by what had to be half the army, as Director Rosch himself looked on from atop a troop carrier. “I’ll keep them busy. You survive.”

No heroic sacrifices today, thought Snow. Not if I have anything to say about it.

“That’s some crowd,” said Fang, catching up and surveying the scene. “Gonna need a plan.”

“Since when have heroes ever needed plans?” he said, smiling, plucking Shiva’s crystal from his brand and tossing it into the air.

“I like the way you think!” Fang said as he shot the crystal, shattering it into living whips of ice that extended from a ball of frost ballooning over the plaza, sending soldiers flying as the entire square froze over. The twin sisters of the Eidolon burst forth, dancing through the air and sending a chill wind tearing through the enemy ranks.

“Fang!” shouted Snow, tossing her the gun. “Hey, quit ogling them.”

“Huh?” she said, catching the gun as Snow leapt off the balcony, the Shiva sisters catching him and joining together into a motorcycle once more. They’re hot, she shrugged, jumping down after him onto the bike’s rear seat as he took off, a ramp of ice trailing behind them down to the ground. She fired into the enemy lines below as Snow circled around them, leaving chaos in their wake as crossfire streaked through the entire plaza.

“It’s him!” Hope shouted, catching his first glimpse of Snow since they had left him behind at Lake Bresha.

“Hope!” cried Lightning, grabbing his arm and pulling him along, shots ringing out from her gunblade as she forced her way through the enemy line.

From atop the troop carrier, Yaag Rosch stared on as Snow and Fang continued to decimate his forces. Snow’s face he knew, but hers was a mystery. There was a new player on the field, and whoever she was, he could tell she was not to be trifled with. “Move!” he yelled as gunfire pelted the carrier, killing his bodyguards and shattering the floating news camera beside him. “Take us up!”

Below them, Lightning flipped the Blazefire Saber back into a blade, cutting down enemies one after another, praying at least Hope would make it out of this alive. A tense silence settled over the battlefield as the carrier flew away, only to be broken as Snow roared past on his Eidolon with his strange new companion, skidding to a stop in the middle of the carnage.

“Aw yeah!” he shouted, cutting the bike’s engine. “Lightning!”

Lightning checked around them once more, but only corpses and wounded men struggling to escape remained. Hope was shaking with adrenaline, but he was unharmed. “Hmph,” she said, sheathing the saber. She shoved Hope forward, realizing that Snow was better equipped to keep him safe than she was at this point. “Take care of him.”

“What?” screeched Hope, stumbling and steadying himself on the strange motorcycle. She’s abandoning me again? To him of all people?

“Lightning, listen to me!” said Snow.

“Get moving!” she snapped. The army wasn’t going to give up that easily, she knew. If it came to it, they’d call in an air strike.

“No, you don’t understand!” Snow insisted. “Serah’s all right! She’ll turn back!”

Pipedreams, she thought. “Take care of Hope,” she simply said, and ran off.

“So that’s the infamous Lightning,” said Fang. “Well, if she won’t listen to you, maybe she’ll listen to me.” She took off after Lightning, leaving Snow and Hope alone.

“I can’t believe this,” muttered Hope, backing away from Snow.

“Halt!” came a shout, as another squadron of soldiers ran toward them.

“All right, time to go,” said Snow, grabbing Hope and shoving him onto Shiva’s rear seat. “So, how’ve you been?” he asked.”

“How have I been?” growled Hope as the man he despised gunned the engine.

“Hang on!” Snow shouted, taking off directly at the enemy line in front of them. A sheet of ice formed under the soldiers, and they slipped backwards as he plowed right through them, spinning the bike around and coming back for another go.

“Fire at will!” came a shout, and Hope lost his grip, tumbling off onto the hard concrete as bullets streaked through the air once more. “One’s down! Don’t let the target escape!”

Laser sights cut through the air, focusing directly on Hope as he stood up, bewildered by the chaos. “Oh no you don’t!” yelled Snow, careening into the troops that were aiming at Hope and running them over as frost covered their bodies. “Take cover!” he called out to the boy as a Sanctum war machine approached. “I’ve got this one.”

Hope stumbled back, reluctantly ducking under one of many giant icicles that had formed along the edge of the plaza. Snow gunned the engine one last time, lifting the bike in a wheelie and whirling it in place as a wreath of ice surrounded the robot. He jumped into the sky, and the ice shattered into diamond dust, taking the robot with it as Shiva separated into the twin sisters once more and returned to his brand. The battle was over, and Hope was left alone with the man he hated more than anyone else in the world.

“So, what’s up?” asked Snow.

“‘What’s up?’” Hope mouthed silently. “Where have you been?”

“I got taken in,” he admitted.

“Taken in…” said Hope. “Wait, what?”

“Not by enemies,” Snow explained. “It was the Cavalry. An autonomous unit of the Guardian Corps, not PSICOM. Leader’s name is Cid Raines. Said he’d lend us l’Cie a hand.”

“And your new girlfriend?” growled Hope, looking in the direction Fang had gone.

“Pulse l’Cie like us,” he said. “Working with them to find us before PSICOM can. She’s how I knew I could trust Raines.”

“Why would the army help us? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Hey, military’s got all kinds,” said Snow. “Not all of ‘em like the Sanctum. So now, your hero is back!” He clapped his hand on Hope’s shoulder.

Hope pushed his hand away, shaking slightly and stepping back, but he bit his tongue. He didn’t care what Lightning had said. Operation Nora had only just begun.

SEVENTEEN

Lightning took off into the back alleys of Palumpolum, and for the first time since boarding the Purge train, she had no idea where to go next. All she knew was that she had been a toxic influence on Hope, and he needed to be with someone who had a reason to live. Someone like Snow, she knew ironically.

What she needed was space to think, but the epic firefight at Carbuncle Square had sent the army into a panic. Soldiers and war machines were everywhere, even in the normally quiet parts of town, and Lightning was far off her game.

“They’re here? The l’Cie?” came a voice from behind her. She whirled around, drawing the saber, but she lost her balance as an Orion-class exterminator rushed at her. 

“Damn right we are!” came the voice of Snow’s mysterious companion, launching a soldier nearly two stories into the air with her crimson lance and jumping in front of Lightning before the machine’s electrified claws could tear into her face. “Get behind me!” she shouted, parrying the blow with her spear and pushing the machine back.

Lightning scrambled to her feet, unsure if she could trust this mystery woman, but grateful for the help nonetheless. The woman raised her spear into the air, and time itself seemed to mire around the robot, its movements slowing to a crawl. Magic? she wondered. She was a l’Cie as well?

“Eat this!” cried Fang, thrusting the spear right through the machine’s armor and severing its electrical pathways in a single hit. She kicked the robot back, pulling the spear out and folding its blades inward, hanging it on her back once more. “You okay?”

“Uh…” said Lightning, embarrassed at being caught off guard. Relying on comrades in battle was one thing, but this was the first time anyone had had to save her. “Who are you?” she asked bluntly. Some mysterious other l’Cie just drops out of the sky to help us? Snow seemed to trust her, but she wasn’t buying it.

Fang sighed, looking Lightning over. Despite the reports, the ‘infamous’ Lightning Farron didn’t seem all that impressive to her. “Ugh,” she said, scratching her head. “Where do I start?”

“Try the beginning,” said Lightning. 

“Name’s Oerba Yun Fang,” she said. “Guess I’ve got a few screws loose, but I’m a l’Cie, same as you.”

“Huh?” Even Lightning couldn’t have taken down an Orion exterminator that quickly. 

“Difference being,” Fang added, “I wasn’t born on Cocoon.”

“What?” said Lightning, taking a step back, reaching for her saber.

“Uh-uh,” said Fang as she noticed. “You heard me right. I’m from Gran Pulse, the world below you all hate so much.”

“How did you even get here, then?”

“Don’t rightly know,” Fang admitted. “My partner and I had turned to crystal there, and gone to sleep. When we came around, here we were. The reason Cocoon’s in such an uproar is the same reason you’re here now. Vanille and I woke up.”

“Vanille too?” Lightning asked.

“You know where she is?” asked Fang anxiously.

“No,” she admitted. “We got separated shortly after the Purge.”

“I see,” said Fang, her face lined with worry. “When we came out of crystal stasis, we didn’t remember our Focus, or what we’d done. All we could do was wander Cocoon, looking for what we’d lost, until your lovely PSICOM troops caught up with us at Euride Gorge. We got… Well, we got separated as well. By the time I took care of them all, Vanille was long gone. I never stopped searching, but I couldn’t find her. Her, or our Focus.”

“And you’re trying to tell me Serah will just…what? Come back to life one day, too?”

“Yep,” said Fang. “We obviously didn’t do our job right. That’s why Anima made her a l’Cie. We messed up. Sorry.”

“‘Sorry?’” spat Lightning, livid. She slapped Fang across the face, balling her hands into white-knuckled fists to hold herself back. She knew exactly how Hope felt in that moment, but she had vowed to be better.

“That it?” Fang asked.

“You sure better hope so. But whether we’re square? That’s up to Serah.”

“You sound exactly like Snow,” she remarked. “And he didn’t hit me.”

“Wait, he already knows this?” Lightning said, incredulous.

“Well, he was trying to tell you,” she said. “You feel better now that you hit me?”

“Hmph,” she grunted. “Didn’t change a thing.”

“Tell that to my jaw,” Fang muttered, massaging it. Lightning may have looked scrawny, but that had been one hell of a backhand.

“Hey, Fang?” Lightning asked. “The others are safe, right? If any of us got caught, they’d have made an announcement, I would think.”

“Damn right they would,” she agreed, as much to convince herself as Lightning. She told herself that every day, when worry began to consume her. “They’d have to let everyone know that the big, bad l’Cie can’t hurt ‘em no more. These Cocoon people are a bunch of cowards and blowhards,” she added, shaking her head.

“‘These Cocoon people’ have spent centuries under fal’Cie law,” Lightning shot back. “We’ve lived in constant fear of a Pulse invasion. If it hadn’t been for Serah, I’d be out there too. Hunting l’Cie. Would’ve been nothing but targets to me,” she admitted.

“Well, Gran Pulse is just as twisted,” said Fang. She had plenty of happy memories of home, but sometimes it seemed as if every single one of them had been a precious moment with Vanille she had had to steal from a cruel world. “‘Cocoon’s a floating nest of vipers, ready to strike.’ Or so I thought.”

“So you became a l’Cie to fight the ‘vipers?’” asked Lightning. “And destroying the nest is your… No, our Focus now.”

“I became a l’Cie for one reason,” she clarified. “Vanille.”

“Huh?”

“She was chosen,” explained Fang. “The girl’s an empath. She feels others’ pain as if it was her own. She can hear the whispers of the soul. You combine that with l’Cie magic, it makes some pretty powerful stuff. They wanted to use her. Make her into a weapon.”

* * *

“Vanille!” Fang cried, dashing out of the boarding house into the streets of Oerba. “Where are you?” It wasn’t like her to be gone for this long, and she was worried sick.

“If it isn’t the Yun girl again,” came the voice of Mother. The crabby old headmistress had been in charge of the orphanage for almost fifty years. No one knew her real name, and she had always had a particularly cold demeanor toward Fang and Vanille. “Asking about your little lost lamb, are we?”

“Screw off, Mother,” said Fang. “We’re both adults now.”

“Are you? You refuse to take a husband, you continue to act like a man, and you insist on maintaining this improper affair with Miss Dia? It is long past time you find your place in our society.”

“My place is with Vanille,” Fang shot back. Despite their differences, the two orphans had been inseparable since they had first met as children, becoming lovers nearly as soon as they had come of age. “Where she goes, I go. Forever.”

“You’re too late,” said Mother. “The priests took her away this morning. Your little girlfriend is going to be a l’Cie.”

“What?” she spat. In an instant, she drew her lance and had it at Mother’s throat.

“You gonna kill a helpless old woman now?” Mother laughed. “What happened to your supposed ‘honor and pride as a Yun warrior,’ or whatever it was you think you’ve inherited from a clan you’ve never even met? Go on, girl, get lost.”

Fang roared, clubbing Mother over the head with the blunt side of her lance, and running for Anima’s Throne. “Let me in!” she screamed, charging with the lance drawn at the priest who stood guard at the base of the fal’Cie. The priests were l’Cie all, and would not hesitate to lay down their lives in defense of Anima, but she was beyond caring. They had taken Vanille.

“Filthy girl!” yelled the priest. “You would dare defile the temple of our village’s protector?” 

“I’ll defile your head if you don’t let me see her!” she snapped.

The priest drew his sword. “Lady Dia has been chosen. She is to be a l’Cie, and she is to fight against Cocoon. This has been decreed by fal’Cie Anima, and I order you to stand down.”

“Like hell I will!” she yelled, shoving the point of the spear in his face.

He did not flinch, instead meeting her harsh gaze with his own. From beneath his robe came the faint glow of his brand, and Fang began to stumble, the world going blurry. “Anima shall decide your fate,” he said, then she blacked out.

* * *

“The next thing I remember,” said Fang, “is waking up here on Cocoon. According to your history, we’ve been in crystal stasis almost five hundred years. That means we must have completed our first Focus. Ugh, why can’t I remember that part? My childhood’s clear as day. But the one thing I need is just gone. Blank, like an empty page. I reach for the memory, and nothing’s there.”

“The one thing you need?”

“Vanille and me,” she replied. “We lost our past, and our Focus.”

“And now you want to find them?” asked Lightning. “Be a Pulse l’Cie? An enemy of Cocoon?”

“Oh, Pulse and Cocoon can rot for all I care,” Fang retorted. “If I don’t figure out our Focus soon, Vanille’s gonna be a Cie’th.” She turned to Lightning, a fiery resolve in her eyes like nothing she’d ever seen before. “I’ll tear down the sky if it’ll save her,” she swore.

This wasn’t bluster, Lightning realized. She meant it. “And if that does mean destroying Cocoon?”

“Have you ever been in love, Lightning?” Fang asked. “Real, honest-to-goodness love, the kind that makes you believe in such silly things as soulmates and eternity?”

“No,” she admitted. “Never really meant much to me, to be honest.”

“Then what about your sister? Would you not do anything for Serah?”

Would I? she wondered. If she were in Fang’s position, and Serah was to become a Cie’th, would she? “I…” she started to say. “I don’t think I could face her if I did.”

“Could you face yourself if you didn’t?” asked Fang next.

Lightning thought hard, but she did not have an answer. “Hmph,” she simply said. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, Lightning?” Fang started to ask.

“Call me Light,” she said. She wasn’t sure about anything anymore, but how could she refuse to trust Fang if she didn’t even trust herself?

“Did you happen to see Vanille’s brand?” she finished.

“No, why?”

“No, huh,” remarked Fang. “Want to know how long until it’s Cie’th city? Just look at your brand. You start getting more arrows, then finally an eye. Once it opens all the way, you’re done. Let’s have a look.”

“Uh?” Lightning asked as Fang came close and pulled her vest back. “Okay…”

“Don’t be shy,” she said, smiling ever so slightly. It wasn’t as if Vanille had ever minded her flirting a little bit. “Nowhere near,” she reassured. “You’ve got time. Still, you never know. With some people, it doesn’t take so long. You get a nasty shock, it can speed up the process. Whatever messed up my brand when I woke up seems to have frozen its progress, but Vanille’s must be pretty far along by now. I’ve got to save her and get her home.”

“Back to Pulse, you mean?”

“To Gran Pulse,” she corrected. “I hear the Sanctum prevents people from leaving Cocoon. I’d like to see them try and stop me!”

“So that’s your plan?” Lightning mused. “I wish I had one. Without Serah, without a future, there’s nothing to plan for. There’s no way out of this mess, and no way to fight it. I’m stuck trading blows with the Sanctum, but that’s no plan. Even if we topple the government, where does that leave us? With nothing to fight for? I might as well be dead.”

“Remember your sister!” Fang encouraged her. “You’ve got plenty to fight for. Think about it. Don’t you want to see Serah after she wakes up? That’s your future right there; all you’ve got to do is survive!”

“And if it takes another five hundred years?” asked Lightning. 

Fang frowned, unable to come up with a response. They both knew the answer, though. All she had to do was complete her Focus, and she would sleep away the centuries right alongside Serah. For Fang, love was enough, no matter what fate befell the rest of the world, but could Lightning really go through with a plan like that? And if she did, would Serah ever forgive her? For that matter, would Vanille ever forgive Fang?

Chapter Text

EIGHTEEN

Vanille and Sazh had been walking for nearly half the day before the rusted junkyards of the Vile Peaks finally began to give way to green forests and flowing streams. They had barely said a word to each other all morning, each lost in their own thoughts, silently finishing the last of Sazh’s rations and wondering what they were going to do about food.

At least that worry is over, thought Vanille, giggling and skipping down the path into the lush jungle. The plant life was very different from what she had grown up around back on Gran Pulse, but this was the first place she had seen since waking up on Cocoon that she truly felt at home in. The only sounds were chirping birds and babbling brooks, and she closed her eyes, stretching and taking a deep breath. “Fresh air,” she said, smiling again. “Nice!”

“So?” asked Sazh. “Where are we headed?” He had mostly followed her all morning, sure of herself as she had seemed.

“Don’t know!” admitted Vanille. She had been desperate to get out of the vast scrapyard and back to something resembling nature, but it wasn’t as if she knew her way around Cocoon. Fang could be anywhere, and she wasn’t exactly eager to run into more Sanctum soldiers.

“You don’t know?” sputtered Sazh. “I thought you had somewhere in mind, the way you took off!”

“I followed the smell,” she explained.

“You…what?”

She bent down, taking a deep whiff of fragrance from a four-petaled pink flower. “It smells nice! All naturey!” It may have been an unfamiliar species, but the scent reminded her of the flower fields around Oerba, an endless sea of blossoms that went on for miles in every direction. 

“Just smells damp,” Sazh muttered, scratching at his neck and making a disgusted face as he pulled a dead bug off his skin. “And I think something bit me. Ugh, this must be the Sunleth Waterscape. Wildlife preserve and ‘protected wetland area.’ In other words, a swamp. Lovely.” He never had been one for the outdoors.

“Aw,” moaned Vanille, frowning and feeling alone once more. A flock of birds suddenly took flight in fear, and the sound of engines roaring echoed through the peaceful glen. “Hide!” she yelled, grabbing Sazh’s arm and pulling him behind a tree branch as a squadron of fighter jets flew overhead.

“Sanctum Skyfleet,” said Sazh, shaking his head as he started to get his bearings and realized where the planes had been headed. “Closest city that way is Palumpolum. That is not good. I wonder if those two were caught in the net?”

“What do we do?” wondered Vanille, praying for Hope and even Lightning to be safe. 

“What do we do?” repeated Sazh. “Right now, what can we do?” They could try to help the others, but the two of them didn’t stand a chance against an entire PSICOM battalion.

“Right,” agreed Vanille. Hope had chosen his path, and she could only rely on Lightning’s better nature to kick in and protect the boy. “No choice, then. We run the other way.”

“Which would be to Nautilus,” Sazh realized, shaking his head at the irony. Dajh had always wanted to go there, and he had never gotten around to taking him. Now he was headed to the City of Dreams without the boy, not for fun but to hide among the crowds. “Welp. If we want to get to Nautilus, our road’s through here,” he said, pointing down a path. He sighed deeply, lost in thought once more and quietly following Vanille as she skipped ahead through the forest.

It’s like he’s forgotten I’m even here, thought Vanille. His pain was overwhelming, but she didn’t think it her place to pry. She’d gotten all of them into this bind, and everything she tried to do to make up for it only made things worse. There was nothing to it, then. She would have to keep the hope alive for them both.

“Step into the rainbow, worlds you never knew,” Vanille sang, remembering the old lullaby from her childhood as she danced through the woods. Fang used to sing it to her when they were young, whenever nightmares would wake her in the middle of the night and the older girl would sneak into her bed to comfort her back to sleep.

Must be nice, thought Sazh, watching her. Being young and carefree like that. After all, nothin’s riding on her shoulders. 

“Dance among the colors,” she continued, twirling the binding rod in the air and pirouetting atop a tree stump. “Let them be your dreams, close your eyes to see anew!” She plucked a pair of ripe apples nearly the size of her head from a nearby tree, tossing one at Sazh. “Catch!”

“Huh?” he cried, fumbling it awkwardly out of the air. “Well, I suppose this place would make a nice picnic spot…minus all the uninvited guests…” A trio of disgusting, gooey flandragoras had slithered up beside them, bizarre animate plants that moved like slugs but looked more like giant peppers with faces. “Ugh, that’s a sight I didn’t want to see. Where’s the weed killer when you need it?”

“Oh, Sazh, don’t worry,” giggled Vanille, absent-mindedly tossing a fireball from her staff and sitting down to eat as the creatures melted into blackened ooze amidst the flames. “I’ll keep you safe!” There had been similar creatures back on Gran Pulse, including much more aggressive species that she had learned to defend herself from since long before becoming a l’Cie.

Great, thought Sazh as he sat down next to her to take a bite. Now the kid thinks she’s gotta take care of me. “Ugh,” he complained, realizing the log he had chosen was wet. “All this dampness is just…damp. Welp, there should be a dock on the other side of this forest. From there we can catch a ferry to Nautilus.”

“Hey Sazh?” Vanille asked, still wondering if there was anything she could say or do to soothe the pain that he was in. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Huh?” he asked, looking at her.

“Any family?”

“I have a little boy,” he admitted. Not that a Pulse l’Cie makes much of a father. Especially not after what happened to Dajh.

“Oh, so you’re married?” Vanille continued, smiling.

“I…” Sazh responded slowly. “I was, yeah. She died, though. Shortly after Dajh was born. Now… He’s all I’ve got left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Vanille, putting her arm on his shoulder. “We gotta get you home, then. Your son needs you!”

“Hmm…” he sighed. “I suppose.”

“Come on!” Vanille encouraged. “We’ll make it.”

“It’s too late,” said Sazh, hanging his head.

“What? Is it the l’Cie thing?” she asked.

“How’d you…” he started to say.

“You might be a l’Cie,” interrupted Vanille, however. “But you’re still a daddy.”

“Hm,” he said again. “I guess you’re right.”

* * *

“Hey, Dad!” called Dajh as a particularly beautiful burst of fireworks lit the beach.

“You makin’ a wish?” Sazh asked. “What did you wish for?”

“Well,” Dajh told him. “You’re never happy anymore. You never smile. So, I wished that you’d cheer up, and be like your old self again!”

Dajh giggled slightly, and Sazh hugged him tightly. He didn’t know what to do anymore, but part of being a parent was protecting your child from life’s hardships. Whatever was going to happen, Dajh needed him to buck up and be the jovial father he had been before. The chocobo chick he had bought for his young son popped out of his hair, chirping and fluttering down onto the boy’s shoulder, and Sazh forced himself to smile.

“How about that?” he said, picking Dajh up and carrying him on his shoulders. “Your wish came true!”

“Aw, yeah!” Dajh said, holding the baby bird in his hands and looking up at the fireworks. “Wow!” he called as another burst lit up the night sky.

“Okay, it’s my turn to wish,” said Sazh, lines of worry creasing his face while he knew his son couldn’t see.

“What for, Dad?”

“That’s my little secret,” he could only say, not wanting to worry Dajh. He looked over, noticing Colonel Nabaat still watching from the distance. She gave a slight smile, but Sazh knew it was fake. The woman has a heart of ice, he thought. It had been all he could do to keep partial custody of his son, and he nervously smiled back, not wanting to give her any reason to revoke it.

* * *

“Sazh?” Vanille asked as her companion’s eyes seemed to glaze over.

“Huh?” he said, snapping back to the present and looking at her.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh, yeah,” he lied. What good would getting into the details do? Won’t change anything.

Vanille could see right through it, but he obviously didn’t feel like telling her any more. With all the dark secrets she was keeping, however, she was not in a place to ask any more of him. “Come on, Pops,” she said, smiling once more and finishing her apple. “You’ve really got to keep it together, okay?”

As if I don’t know that, he silently thought to himself. “Some dad I am, if I’ve got kids looking out for me,” he muttered.

“Shall we go?” asked Vanille, hopping up.

“Guess so,” he agreed, following her up the path as it began to crest over a hill. “Hm,” he grunted as they reached the top, an incredible view of the forest below spreading out before them. “Where’s a camera when you need one, eh?” What I wouldn’t give to show Dajh, he thought. 

“Yeah,” agreed Vanille, staring out at the sight. She had seen plenty of beautiful scenery back home, but it was only from a viewpoint like this that one began to grasp the true scale of Cocoon. From the surface below, it just appeared as a large moon that floated a little too low in the sky, but from here, she could see how incredible the structure truly was.

The forest stretched out into infinity, curving up instead of down; instead of a horizon, the land simply swept up into the distance. Eventually it faded into the blue of the sky, but as she looked closely, she made out entire continents and oceans hidden in that sky, all illuminated by Phoenix’s indomitable shine. A paradise indeed, she thought. Perhaps the fal’Cie that had built it truly were benevolent, she wondered. After all, it’s humanity tearing itself apart now, all because of us.

All her life, she had been taught to revere Pulse as the god of all life, its innumerable fal’Cie as the stewards of nature and evolution. But her teachers had also told her that Cocoon was a nest of vipers that would strike at any time, built by fal’Cie servants of the evil Lindzei to one day raise an army against them. 

The people she had found upon waking up here had not been evil, however. They had always been afraid, she realized. Even PSICOM, the very army she had been taught lay in waiting, with all the horrific war crimes they had committed in carrying out the Purge, had only been mobilized in response to a threat. Me and Fang, she knew. How can we ever make up for what we’ve done?

“All right, I know, enough sightseeing,” Sazh grumbled, continuing down the path and motioning for Vanille to follow. “Better keep moving before the army finds us.”

“Right,” she said. The trail led them down the side of the hill, into another idyllic glen where a waterfall splashed down from above into a peaceful lake. “You look tired,” she said, as Sazh yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Not enough sleep?”

“I guess,” he sighed, sitting down on a rock. How the hell was a man in his position supposed to block out the never-ending worry enough to sleep, anyway?

“Not surprising,” said Vanille. “Cute girl like me, it’s hard to close your eyes, huh?” It was what she had said to tease Fang after they had been branded, whenever she had seemed too worried to relax. Her partner would laugh, give her a playful kiss, and they would carry on, squeezing every last drop of joy they could out of the days they had left, knowing they would carry those memories together into crystal when they completed their Focus. 

But then it all went wrong, she thought. That thing had taken Fang away from her, and when all had seemed lost they suddenly found themselves on Cocoon, with no idea how they got there. Fang had returned to her, but for some unknowable reason, they had slept in crystal for five hundred years with their Focus still unfinished, and now the cycle had begun again. None of it made any sense.

“Maybe I should lie down for a bit,” Sazh admitted, stretching out in the grass and closing his eyes.

Vanille skipped across the clearing, sitting down by the waterfall. “Oh!” she giggled as Sazh’s chocobo chick fluttered over to her, landing in her hands. “Being made a l’Cie is not easy, you know,” she told the tiny bird. “I mean look. Even I’m kind of worried. But even if we don’t know what’ll happen, we have to keep our dreams alive, right? Have something to look forward to, you know?”

Even if she was fated to become a Cie’th, she was determined to see Fang one more time first, no matter what. They would make one final memory together, she swore to herself. Maybe there would be some part of her left to hold on to that memory, even if her body turned to living stone and her mind became subsumed by her incomplete Focus. Maybe even then, at least her soul would remember it.

“Next stop is Nautilus,” Sazh muttered in a sleepy stupor. “City of Dreams.”

“Yup,” she said, letting the baby chocobo fly back and burrow into Sazh’s hair once more. “‘City of Dreams,’” she repeated, lying down and closing her own eyes, dreaming of Fang’s warm embrace. One final memory.

NINETEEN

Vanille slowly woke up as the chocobo chick bounced several times off her cheek, chirping and squeaking to get her attention. “Huh?” she moaned sleepily, rubbing her eyes and sitting up. It was still day, so she couldn’t have slept for very long. “Sazh?” The man wasn’t where he had been before she had fallen asleep, and she worried about where he could have gone. She scrambled to her feet, chasing the small bird as it flew off toward the shore of the lake.

“There you are!” she called, noticing him standing at the end of a small peninsula.

“Huh?” he asked, turning to face her. “Oh, it’s you. You scared me.”

Vanille sat down, her worry intensifying as the pain radiated off of him in waves. “What’s up?” she asked, still wondering if it was her place to know. If I don’t use my gift to help people, though, she thought, then what’s it all been for?

“Agh, I’m just thinking,” Sazh started, but he let the thought trail off.

It’s guilt, realized Vanille. He blames himself for having to abandon Dajh. “Don’t blame yourself,” she told him. Guilt was an emotion she knew intimately. “You know, you can’t control who a fal’Cie picks for a Focus.”

“My son Dajh,” Sazh finally admitted. “He was picked. He’s a l’Cie.”

Vanille closed her eyes, her hands closing into fists of their own accord. Since the moment she had first laid eyes on Sazh, she had been trying to reassure herself it was just coincidence, but some part of her had known all along. The boy had been the spitting image of Sazh, and something had driven the man to take up arms against Anima that day.

“He said he wanted to see a fal’Cie,” continued Sazh. “So, I took him to go on a tour of the Euride Gorge power plant. He could meet Kujata, and I thought I could surprise him with a chocobo chick from the gift shop too. But…the moment I turned my back, he’d dashed off.”

Vanille fought back tears, knowing this particular story all too well.

* * *

“Still hazy,” muttered Fang, wandering through the exhibits to the viewpoint and staring across the gorge. The visitors’ center was built into the edge of the cliff, and the window looked out onto the highlight of the experience. On the other side of the canyon, the fal’Cie Kujata stood silently, molten lava flowing through its clear crystal veins as it used its magic to generate enough electricity to power all of Cocoon. “What about you? Anything come back?”

Vanille shook her head. “Nope,” she lied, unable to tell even Fang the dark secret she kept, for if she did, she could lose the woman she loved all over again.

“Hm,” said Fang. “I thought that if we got close to a Cocoon fal’Cie, that it would trigger something.” They could both feel Kujata’s presence even from here, a hot, stifling, almost intrusive feeling that permeated the entire canyon. She had been so sure that the intense magic coming from such a being would stir her memories, but there was just nothing. As if something didn’t want her to remember.

“This is hopeless,” Vanille continued. “I can’t remember anything. Fang, let’s go. What’s our Focus even matter?”

“What’s it matter?” screamed Fang, turning to her partner with a look so fearsome even Vanille was afraid of her. “You want to be a monster?”

The warrior girl she loved had always had a short temper, but this was exactly why Vanille wouldn’t tell her what she knew. Ever since they had woken up from crystal, something had been different about Fang. Back in Bodhum, she hadn’t hesitated to beat a man bloody just for making a snide comment about Gran Pulse, and now for the first time since they had fallen in love, she had begun directing her unbridled anger at Vanille.

Until waking up on Cocoon, Vanille’s presence had ever been the balm that soothed Fang’s fiery heart; no matter what they went through, her face would always soften when she met Vanille’s innocent, childlike gaze. Now, Vanille wondered if her partner would ever be the same again. “I just…” she started to say.

“Keep your chin up,” Fang said, realizing she had gone too far, and reached out to place her hand on Vanille’s shoulder. “We know the part that matters, right? We are enemies of Cocoon. Know what I say? Play the part and raise some hell. Might jump-start our memories.”

“What?” Vanille asked. Hadn’t they just spent the last week realizing everything they had been taught was wrong? “You want to…”

“The fal’Cie,” she said, glancing out at Kujata. “Let’s smash it!” She jumped back, drawing her lance. “Break the glass, cross the maintenance catwalk, and it’s good night Kujata.”

“But…” Vanille started to say, grabbing the binding rod in a panic. She was tired of fighting, but maybe if they got to it quickly enough, they could take it down without getting any humans involved at least.

“Who are you?” came a small voice from behind them.

Vanille and Fang both turned around, noticing a young boy with dark skin and curly hair looking curiously at them. He couldn’t have been older than the two of them had been when they first met, and he smiled brightly, pointing at Fang’s lance.

“That’s cool!” he said.

“Fang, let’s just go,” said Vanille, reaching for her partner’s hand.

An earthquake shook the facility, however, and jets of molten lava spewed forth from the far side of the canyon. Kujata had sensed their intent, and a wave of burning-hot magic swept through the room, singeing their hair.

“Daddy!” called the child, tripping and falling to the floor, beginning to cry. Vanille put her hands to her mouth in shock, noticing as a small glowing glyph appeared on the boy’s hand.

“Brand of Lindzei,” said Fang, thinking fast. With Kujata on to them, this place would be on lockdown in seconds. “We gotta move!”

“No!” Vanille shouted, scooping the sobbing child up and carrying him to a bench. She hurriedly mended the boy’s bruises, trying to comfort him, but voices and footsteps could be heard from the halls already.

“Come on!” Fang shouted, grabbing Vanille by the arm and pulling her down a corridor. “Next l’Cie that thing makes won’t be a kid! You don’t want to drag more innocents into this? Then we gotta go!” They hurried into a maintenance chamber, and Fang stopped to listen for pursuit.

“Let’s give up, Fang,” pleaded Vanille. “Forget our Focus. We don’t need it!”

“‘We don’t need it?’” Fang repeated. She loved Vanille more than anything else in the world, but sometimes the girl really did have her head in the clouds. “Look, if we don’t figure it out and pull it off, you’re going to be a Cie’th!” 

“It’s just…” Vanille began. “Making a kid that young a l’Cie? It’s not right!”

“Yeah, it’s unfair,” Fang agreed. “But we grin and bear it like good l’Cie, or guess what? The fal’Cie starts making more! Like that girl the other day!”

Vanille started to cry, remembering the young woman that had entered the Vestige and been branded by Anima. To pick up where we left off, she knew.

“It doesn’t matter what our Focus is,” continued Fang. “We do it, whether we like it or not.”

“But…”

“Say we call it quits,” she tried to explain. “You think these people will let us go? When they figure out who we are, they’ll lynch us in the street! Listen, Vanille,” she said, putting her arms on the girl’s shoulders. “We do what we’ve gotta do, and we get ourselves off this filthy world as fast as we can.”

“Fang?” cried Vanille, as her partner put her arm around her, leading her into an elevator at the back of the room.

“You get out of here first,” she said. “I’ll buy you some time.”

“What? Why don’t we just go together?”

“Ah-ah,” said Fang, shaking her head. “Don’t you worry. I’ll come and find you, no matter where you go.” She pressed the button to activate the elevator, than jammed her lance into the control panel to keep it from being used again afterward. She pushed Vanille inside, jumping back in a flip as the doors began to close.

“Wait!” Vanille yelled after her. “Fang!” Her partner gave her one last smile of reassurance, then was gone from view. “Fang! Please! Don’t leave me!”

She hated to do it, but Fang knew this was the only way. She loved Vanille for her big heart and boundless empathy, but it was also the girl’s greatest weakness. Someone had to figure out Anima’s will and carry it out, or Fang’s soulmate was going to turn into a mindless abomination before her very eyes. There was no way in two worlds she was going to let that happen, even if she had to do it herself.

“You boys coming or not?” she shouted into the hallway, spinning the lance through the air to get the guards’ attention. “Your fight’s right here!”

* * *

“Apparently,” said Sazh, “those damn Pulse l’Cie that had been hiding in the Vestige had snuck in and tried to attack Kujata. It did the only thing it could, and made Dajh a l’Cie to protect itself.”

Vanille had kept secrets from Fang, and set this whole chain of events into motion because of it. She knew she should tell the truth this time. She knew she should tell this grieving father who she was and what she had done. There was anger in his voice, however, and she was still afraid. If he turned on her, could she face it with dignity? Would she even be doing him a favor in the long run? 

“My son,” he went on. “He got picked by a Sanctum fal’Cie. He’s a hero. But we’re Pulse l’Cie. Dajh’s enemies.”

If Vanille told the truth, she wouldn’t blame him if he chose to shoot her right there. She knew Fang wouldn’t see it that way, though, and maybe it would be better to stay quiet once more. Play dumb once more, if only to spare the man from her lover’s wrath.

“PSICOM showed up right after that,” Sazh continued. “They took custody of him, and then it was one test after another. They never could figure out his Focus, though. Maybe it was look for Pulse l’Cie, maybe it was kill ‘em. Either way, how could a kid that young even stand a chance?”

Vanille picked a flower, holding it up to her nose and taking a deep whiff of its sweet scent. Nineteen years of life as an empath had taught her how to hide emotions away, because if she didn’t, they would drown her. Lock them in a box, and throw away the key, she told herself. 

“Then, after he was made a l’Cie,” said Sazh, oblivious to her turmoil. “Dajh had some way of sensing things from Pulse. He was the one who found the Pulse fal’Cie in the Vestige. But the kid can’t fight. So that’s why I put myself on the train to Purgeville. I figured his Focus had to have something to do with destroying that Pulse fal’Cie,” explained Sazh. “Thought I could do it for him, and well… You know the rest.”

Serah. Dajh. Hope. Sazh. Snow. Lightning. Six people branded for Vanille’s sin, two of them only children. Six people’s fates stolen from them. Hundreds slain in the Purge that followed. All because she had been too afraid to tell the truth. What could Vanille ever say or do that could wash that stain clean?

“If I was right about his Focus, then he’s probably a crystal already. Of course, if he was supposed to take out that thing’s l’Cie, then either we die, or he’s a Cie’th.”

Vanille heard a click as Sazh pulled one of his guns from its holster, turning it over in his hands. “Die…” she started to say. What else could ever make up for what I’ve done, though?

The baby chocobo fluttered out of Sazh’s hair, landing on the barrel of the gun, seeming to shake its tiny head as if to banish the thought from his head. “It’s a pickle, all right,” he said. “But, the bird says no.” 

Sazh holstered the gun, and Vanille decided once more to stuff the box away, deep in the recesses of her soul. She would do what she did best, and she would carry on. “Dawn of the new day, clears all the gloom away,” she began to sing once more as they set forth again. “This is the hope that you need, to go on.” Her voice faltered, though, as her heart was no longer in it.

Clouds had begun to gather above as they walked, and by the time they arrived at the ferry dock, the sky had opened up into a fierce and sudden downpour. “Ugh,” Sazh groaned, putting his hands above his head to block the rain and running to the dock’s shelter, but his jacket had already been soaked. “When it rains around here, it pours. And then it rains some more!”

“Sazh?” began Vanille. There was one thing she needed to know, however. Something she needed to hear him say with his own voice. “Do you…hate Pulse?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he admitted. “Look at this mess it’s gotten us all into!”

You mean the mess I’ve gotten you all into, she thought, staring out at the water, but she stayed silent.

“Of course,” Sazh clarified, “that’s not to say I always hated it. Seemed fishy, all that Sanctum ranting about the ‘threat from Pulse.’ ‘Only a matter of time before they strike.’ ‘Pulse is infested with monsters.’ Scare after scare, and not even a shred of proof.”

I was the proof, realized Vanille. I made him like this.

“Tired old cynics like me don’t just swallow that tabloid crap, though. I figured the Sanctum was up to something crooked. At least until I got dragged in. You know, now that I think about it, all this Purge business only started because Dajh found that Pulse fal’Cie.”

“You’re wrong,” interrupted Vanille. Dajh was only a child, and she couldn’t bear to watch Sazh blame the Purge on his own young son. “It was all…” she began, but her courage faltered again. She folded her hands in her lap, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Sazh before she could finish collecting herself. “It was that scum from Pulse behind it.”

In an instant, the dam cracked once more. Vanille took off running, standing in the downpour and letting it hide the tears that had begun to stream down her face. Maybe he was right. Maybe she and Fang were scum. After all, she couldn’t even find the courage to own up to what she had caused. She tried desperately to fight the tears, but it was like trying to stop the rain.

“Hey!” Sazh called out from inside the shelter. “You’re getting soaked!”

“I’ll be fine,” she retorted, turning her face up to the sky to let the rain wash her tears away. “It’s only water.”

TWENTY

Hope silently gritted his teeth, following Snow from a distance as he climbed a ramp of ice that had been left behind from Shiva’s assault on the enemy. This is just a part of Operation Nora, he reminded himself as a small squad of troops came into view, blocking their way.

“Bring it on!” yelled Snow, charging forward without hesitation. Gunfire erupted as they tried to stop him, and he punched one soldier down in a single hit.

For now, we work together, thought Hope, drawing the Airwing and conjuring a bolt of electricity to incapacitate another soldier, staggering him backward as Snow struck him so hard he flew into the air. But I’m just waiting. Waiting for the right moment.

The third soldier leveled a bazooka, the laser sight focusing directly on Hope. He wasn’t afraid, but Snow had already dived in front of him, magic flowing from his brand as he hardened his skin into living armor. The grenade struck Snow point-blank, and he simply shrugged it off, grabbing the barrel of the bazooka and clubbing the soldier over the head with it.

“You see that?” he called out, smiling at Hope. “They got nothing on us!”

Hope bit his tongue, saying nothing, and the two of them scrambled onto the roof of the nearest building. Facing them was an elite PSICOM agent, dressed in imposing armor and equipped with a powerful manadrive. “Nowhere to run, l’Cie,” the man spat at them.

“Who’s running?” Snow quipped. “Hope, follow my lead!”

As long as I have a goal, I can fight, Hope remembered, letting Lightning’s words guide him as he focused all of his anger into staying alive. Begrudgingly, he conjured a shield around Snow, charging it with energy to resist the replicated magic from the agent’s manadrive.

Their enemy raised his spear, and a ball of fire issued forth from the manadrive, surrounding Snow completely even as it Hope’s shield tried to repel it. Snow steeled his skin once more as the man lowered the spear, and its telescoping tip shot forth into his chest. Snow staggered back, grimacing, but stood fast.

He thinks he can shield me, but Mom had had to die to save him? thought Hope, but he soothed Snow’s wounds anyway. He wasn’t about to let some nameless PSICOM commando take away his chance at revenge, and he flung bolt after bolt of charged magical energy back at their mutual enemy until the man lost his balance.

“Thanks, partner,” Snow said obliviously, and took advantage of the opening Hope had created, punching the soldier nearly two stories into the air and jumping up after him, pummeling him relentlessly on the way down. The PSICOM agent crumpled to the ground, his neck twisted at an odd angle, and Snow landed on his feet beside Hope. 

“This way!” Snow shouted, leaping off the rooftop into a small alley between buildings and motioning for Hope to follow. Leading on, he paused to peer through a grating as another squad of troops gathered in the tunnel beyond. “You’ve changed, haven’t you?” he asked as the soldiers moved on. “Seems like you’ve toughened up.”

“I’m a l’Cie,” said Hope, staring daggers at him. “I had to.”

Snow sighed, shaking his head. “The only ones that ought to be fighting the army are us dumb grown-ups.”

“You think its stupid to fight?” he asked, incredulous. He sure hadn’t cared when he dragged Mom off to her death.

“It is if you get killed,” said Snow. He too, thought of those he had mobilized during the Purge. Untrained civilians that had died under his command, and the young mother who had sacrificed herself for him before he had even learned her name. Even his fellow NORA fighters had been left behind as he went off to attack a fal’Cie, and he had no idea if they were dead or alive. “Anyway, just lay low,” he told Hope. “Let the dummies duke it out. The army’s no match for NORA!” He smiled, winking at the boy, utterly blind as his words cut like razors in Hope’s heart.

“He was smiling,” Hope spat as Snow walked away. He reached into his pocket, his fingers closing around Lightning’s knife. This was his chance, he realized, and he silently tiptoed behind Snow, quietly unfolding the knife. I love you, Mom, he thought, as he raised the blade.

A beeping noise sounded from Snow’s pocket, and he whipped out the army-issue cell phone Rygdea had given him before leaving the Lindblum. “It’s me, what’s up?” he said.

“You damn well know what’s up!” came Fang’s tinny voice from the phone, loud enough to startle Hope. “Why haven’t you called in?”

“Sorry,” said Snow. “Slipped my mind.”

“Right,” she grunted through the speaker. “What’s your status?”

“Great!” he continued, turning around and smiling once more. “Hope’s great, too!”

Hope hurriedly hid the knife behind his back. The chance was gone, and he would have to continue waiting.

“Are you all right?” Snow asked.

* * *

“I’m great, you’re great, everybody’s great,” snarked Fang into the phone, clear on the other side of the city. She tossed the phone to Lightning. “Hey, Light, reunion time. Figure out a rendezvous point. Don’t sweat it, that line’s hyper-encrypted,” she added as Lightning noticed the phone’s Guardian Corps serial number.

She put the phone to her ear. “Snow?” she asked.

“Hey Sis! Is that you?” he said jovially.

“I’m not your sister,” she grumbled for the umpteenth time. “We’ll meet at Hope’s place. Felix Heights, apartment 35-A.”

“Right,” said Snow. “See you there. Tell Fang ‘hey!’”

“Take care of Hope,” Lightning implored.

“All over it!” he replied. “And I’ll tell you more about Serah when we meet up. I found out she can turn back! There’s still hope!”

“Hmph,” she grunted. She didn’t doubt Fang’s story, but it was a bit soon to celebrate. “Listen to me,” she added. “It’s about Hope. His mother was…”

“Lightning!” came Hope’s voice from the phone, however. “It’s me. I decided…” Static cut off the rest of his sentence, however, and sirens could be heard in the distance.

“Hope?” she yelled into the phone, but the line went silent. “Hope! Answer me!”

“Yelling doesn’t fix it,” quipped Fang, reaching for the phone. “You can chitchat when we get there. I’ve got point, you fall in behind, and see if you can’t cool off that head of yours!”

“You don’t understand, Fang,” Lightning explained. “Hope’s mother was killed in the Purge. He blames Snow, because Snow encouraged her to fight, and I… I told him to… To…”

“Snow can take care of himself,” reassured Fang. “We’ve got bigger problems.” She peered around the corner at the end of the alley, where Yaag Rosch stood addressing a gathered platoon of Guardian Corps soldiers, and she gestured for Lightning to take a look.

“This city’s under our jurisdiction!” one of the yellow-clad GC commanders complained. “We’re the ones defending it! We should have a say in what’s done to protect it!”

Rosch ignored him, speaking into his earpiece. “Attention all units! Ignore all fire zone restrictions. Fire at will. Whatever it takes to kill the l’Cie.”

“What?” yelled the commander. “Whatever it takes? You want to start a war in the streets? Civilians are still evacuating. The collateral you’re talking about is unacceptable! You don’t know what it’s like out there!”

“They’re ready to sacrifice the city if that’s what it takes,” Lightning muttered.

“Wanna take that bastard down?” Fang asked.

“Won’t do any good,” said Lightning, shaking her head. “Order’s already been given. If we go in now, we’ll just be proving him right to the others.”

“You don’t understand why we’re here,” continued Rosch, as if to prove her point. “Who do you think it is, terrified of Pulse and begging us to kill the l’Cie? It’s not the Sanctum. It’s the people themselves.”

“We need to catch up with Hope,” Lightning insisted. “Before he does something he’ll regret for the rest of his life.”

“Well then,” said Fang, glancing at a map of the city on the phone. She had only met Hope for the briefest of times, but revenge was something she understood. It was all she had had as a child, younger even than Hope was. She would most likely have chased it to her own death, if she hadn’t found something better: Vanille. “You with me, Light? Let’s get after him!”

* * *

Hope had stashed the knife in his pocket once more, but he kept his hand closed around it as he followed Snow reluctantly toward his neighborhood. Velocycles sped by in the distance as they came to the end of an alley, and Snow put up his hand for them to stop. They looked around the corner, and a grim sight awaited.

Soldiers from both divisions of the army were herding scared civilians through the city’s western promenade at gunpoint. This wasn’t just about them anymore: PSICOM was gearing up for a second Purge. “Listen to me, Hope,” said Snow. “The Sanctum follows fal’Cie orders. They’re not just after l’Cie. They won’t hesitate to target civilians, and Purge everyone they consider a threat.”

“And more innocents get killed,” realized Hope. 

“You can’t take the blame for that.”

“Someone has to,” he spat, glaring at Snow.

“We can save them,” Snow insisted. “We let loose, and bring the army to us.”

“Draw their fire?” Hope asked. Hatred still burned in his heart, but he didn’t want any other child to go through what he had, either.

“I’m supposed to protect you,” mused Snow. “But I can’t let this happen. It’s a tough call, but I guess there’s only one choice. I try to save everyone!” He put his fist in the air, smiling at Hope once more. “So, Hope, are you with me on this?”

Hope wanted nothing more than to plunge the knife into Snow’s heart and wipe that smug grin off his face forever, but even he knew they had to try. If they didn’t, the cycle would continue. More mothers would die, and more innocent children would be filled with hatred. “Yeah,” he said grimly, letting go of the knife and taking hold of his Airwing instead.

“You just need to look out for yourself,” said Snow. “I’ll get their attention.” He ran out into the promenade, wrestling the SMG out of a trooper’s hand and bashing him in the face with it. “Get down!” he yelled to the crowd.

Screams of panic rang out as the soldiers fired back, but the tactic had worked. The squad had focused their attention on Snow, and the civilians had scattered. “It’s the l’Cie!” shouted one of them, noticing the brand on Snow’s arm.

“I’m the one you want!” he yelled, letting loose a barrage of autofire and mowing down three of them.

Hope ran out next, flooding the street behind them and throwing a bolt of electricity into the water as the wave swept the soldiers off their feet. As if choreographed, Snow drew forth magical frost from his brand, instantly supercooling the gun, and he tossed it at the enemy. The water instantly flash-froze, leaving even the surviving soldiers unable to move.

“Let’s go!” Snow shouted, taking off down the promenade. They rounded a corner, where more civilians were taking shelter. It didn’t seem that they were aware Snow and Hope were l’Cie, but many of them shot harsh looks at the two anyway.

“What was that all about?” asked one woman, backing away from them.

“We’ve got enough problems without you punks causing more!” a man yelled in Snow’s face.

“All these people would want to kill us, wouldn’t they?” mumbled Hope when they were out of earshot.

“Probably,” admitted Snow.

“Bertie!” a voice called out. Hope turned to look, noticing a small boy running up to a confused-looking older man. 

“There you are! Grandpa, how many times do I have to tell you to stay where you are when we get separated?”

How fast we have to grow up, Hope thought. Being a child was a luxury now, one he no longer had. If they hadn’t intervened, this young boy would likely have been thrust into the same position, responsible for protecting his elderly grandfather from soldiers that were being ordered to treat them all as targets.

He and Snow descended a flight of stairs into a palm-tree lined plaza surrounded by shops and apartment buildings. A crowd of people were gathered, flanked on all sides by barricades, with a single soldier guarding them from the center. A small girl turned to look at the two of them, clutching a plush moogle doll.

“Not good,” said Snow, stopping to survey the situation. Several main streets converged on this intersection, and there was no way to get to Hope’s apartment from here without passing through. One wrong move, he knew, and this would turn into a massacre. He hurried into the center of the plaza, facing down the soldier standing guard.

“Is there a problem?” the soldier asked. “You’re gonna need to calm down and…”

Snow punched him in the face, knocking him unconscious as the crowd stumbled away in fear. He took a deep breath, kneeling down and picking up his gun from where it had fallen. “I am a Pulse l’Cie!” he yelled, pointing the gun at a billboard and emptying the clip. “I’m here to kill you all!” The crowd began to stampede through the barricades, dozens of voices screaming in terror as people ran from Snow.

“What are you doing?” yelled Hope.

“Clearing the area,” Snow muttered, tossing the gun onto the sidewalk. Sure enough, bullets began to rain down from the sky as aerial troopers streaked in from above. “They’ll open fire on a crowd, Hope,” he explained, pulling the boy behind a vending machine for cover. “Doesn’t matter who dies. They’ll wipe ‘em all out to get at us.”

“There’s so many of them,” remarked Hope. Snipers with AMP-powered jetpacks circled the square like heavily-armed vultures. “What do we do?”

“We push through!” Snow yelled, running into the center of the intersection and hardening his flesh. Gunfire pelted him from all sides, and he gritted his teeth as even his magically-enhanced armored skin began to bleed and crack. This one was up to Hope, he knew. He could draw their attention, but the jetpacks meant they were out of his reach.

Taking stock of the situation, Hope hurriedly conjured a shield around Snow as he took the hits. He thought back to the floating vespid that had attacked him and Lightning back in the Gapra Whitewood, and realized the small single-AMP jetpacks probably had a similar vulnerability.

He swung the Airwing in an arc above him, magic pouring forth from his brand as he whipped the air into a massive whirlwind around Snow. The soldiers panicked as they began to lose control of their jetpacks, crashing at full speed into walls, streetlights, and trees, then falling to the hard pavement below.

Snow leapt into action, scattering the survivors with a flurry of kicks and punches as Hope silently mended his wounds. “Let’s go!” he yelled, running into an outdoor shopping mall where they would be less exposed. “Over here,” he said, noticing a fallen jetpack that seemed to still be functioning.

The sound of crying stopped Hope in his tracks, however, and he looked over to see the girl with the moogle doll, wide-eyed with fright, looking right at him. “You okay?” he asked.

She shrieked in terror, throwing the doll in Hope’s face, and he stumbled back in shock. “Leave her alone!” a woman shouted from down the street, as a ragtag mob of citizens nervously approached, armed with rakes and crowbars. “L’Cie scum! Don’t you touch her!”

The girl jumped up in panic, shoving Hope aside and making a mad dash for the crowd. “Mommy!” she yelled, running into the woman’s embrace.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” the woman reassured, squeezing her in a hug. “You’re okay now.”

I am the enemy now, thought Hope, watching as the crowd continued to close in on them. If they attack us, I’ll be the one taking this girl’s mother away from her.

Snow stepped up beside him, sizing up the crowd. This could turn ugly quickly, he knew as well. He looked up, noticing an arched sign overhead, and raised his fist. The crowd stopped, stumbling back with fright as his brand began to glow and a sphere of magical ice formed around his fist.

“Is that magic?” asked one man, turning around to run away in terror.

Others, however, were braver, and had begun advancing once more. Snow threw the ball of ice into the air, breaking one of the supports of the arch, and stood back as it began to tumble down between him and the angry mob.

It crashed to the ground, barricading the street in front of them, and the crowd began to disperse as they realized how outmatched they were. Hope knelt down, picking up the plush moogle from where it had fallen, and set it gently on top of the barricade, looking the scared girl’s mother in the eye. “I’m sorry,” he said, and turned around. He was the enemy now.

“Stop them!” came a shout from the street behind the crowd, as PSICOM troops charged through. 

For a mercy, they hadn’t opened fire until reaching the barricade, but Snow knew more would be on their way. “Hope!” he yelled, grabbing hold of the jetpack with one hand and scooping the boy up with the other. His skin hardened as they rocketed up toward the sky, and he shielded Hope with his body as the soldiers tried to shoot them down.

The jetpack’s lone AMP rotor was built to carry one person, and it scraped against the wall as it began to lose thrust. Snow kicked them away from the buildings, holding on tightly as the engine faltered. As soon as they cleared the edge of the roof, he let go, falling on his back on the hard concrete with Hope on top of him. The jetpack clattered to the rooftop near them, its rotor still spinning but no longer generating enough power to lift off.

“We’ve got to stay ahead of them!” Snow said, scrambling to his feet and holding his hand out to Hope. “We’ll walk from here.”

Hope pushed his hand away, standing up on his own. They stood on the roof of the Rivera Tower, he realized, less than a mile from his family home. He looked out at the cityscape below them, framed by the artificial sunset over the sea as Phoenix had begun to dim for the evening. Military airships surrounded the entire city, and he knew there was little chance they would get out of Palumpolum alive.

Snow seemed undeterred as usual, though, strutting across the roof as if this was all part of the plan. Hope shook his head, and sat back down, burying his face in his hands. He couldn’t see a reason to continue at this point. Even if his dad didn’t outright alert the army to their presence, he couldn’t imagine him wanting a bunch of l’Cie over for dinner.

“Felix Heights is that way, right?” asked Snow, pointing at a cluster of apartment buildings. “Still pretty far to go on the rooftops, I guess. ‘A great place for family living,’” he read off a billboard. “So they say.”

“L’Cie don’t have family,” muttered Hope.

“Listen to me, kid,” Snow said, turning to face him. “I’m an orphan. I barely got to know my family, but someday, I’m gonna have one of my own. Once I save Serah, and protect Cocoon.”

“How exactly?”

“That’s a good question,” he admitted. “I want to do what’s right, but everyone hates l’Cie. Kind of hard to help someone who’s trying to kill you. It’ll be tough, but everything will work out in the end. Serah will wake up one day. Fang did, after all.”

“Huh?” asked Hope.

“She’s been a crystal once already,” explained Snow. “You saw her now! That’s how I know it’ll turn out all right. As long as we stay together and hold on to hope…”

“We don’t have any!” he snapped. “A l’Cie’s only hope is a quick death!” As if to prove the boy’s point, a PSICOM velocycle streaked in from the distance, its high-powered gatling gun carving a groove in the concrete rooftop as it swung around toward them.

“Get behind me!” Snow shouted, steeling himself to take the barrage. Bullets ricocheted off of his hardened skin as he stood in front of Hope. As soon as the clip ran out, he charged his fist with ice and punched the mounted gun hard enough to bend the barrel. “Hope!”

The boy just watched, however, leaving Snow to fight on his own. He had lost interest in prolonging the inevitable. Maybe the Sanctum was right, after all, he began to think. Maybe the only good l’Cie was a dead l’Cie.

“Rraagh!” roared Snow, taking hold of the velocycle with both hands and swinging it toward a wall with enough force to crash it. “If you’re not gonna help, then at least come on!” he yelled, grabbing Hope’s hand and pulling him along as the pilot scrambled out of the wreckage and drew his sidearm.

Snow dragged his young charge across the rooftops, pushing him onto a catwalk that ran high above the street, and threw a ball of ice onto the concrete behind him as he followed. The velocycle pilot slipped, tumbling off the roof onto the street nearly thirty stories below. The sound of engines roared in the distance, and he pulled Hope roughly into a tangle of pipes under a water tower. They hid as more velocycles flew past, looking for them. 

“Snap out of it, kid!” Snow said. “I’m not gonna let you die on my watch!”

“Really,” said Hope, following reluctantly as Snow squeezed between two buildings, coming to a quiet elevated park that overlooked Hope’s neighborhood, having finally shaken their pursuit. “I want to ask you something, Snow.”

“What’s that?”

“You say you want a family,” he continued. “What if they were taken from you?”

“Well then,” he said. “I’d take ‘em back!”

“And what if you couldn’t? What if you knew who was to blame?”

“Well, then there’d be trouble,” Snow admitted. “Hey, what’s gotten into you? You get…hit in the head or something?” He wandered over to a vending machine, inserting a few gil for a cola. “Here,” he said, offering it to Hope.

“I’m not thirsty,” he muttered, leaning against a wall.

“Okay…” said Snow, popping the top open. “Well, don’t want to waste it.” He stopped in front of the railing, taking a swig and looking out at the streets below.

Mom and I would come to this park, thought Hope. She would stand right there too, and look out at those same streets. Now he stood there, as if to insult her memory. “Snow,” he said. “What do you plan to do? I need to know.”

Snow chugged the rest of the soda, belching insensitively and chucking the empty can into a recycling bin. “I told you. Save Serah, protect Cocoon, and have myself a big, happy family! Still, it’s a long road ahead. Or maybe,” he said, looking down at the brand on his arm. “Maybe not so long. Whatever happens, though, things’ll work themselves out. Even if you’re a l’Cie, you’ve gotta keep fighting!”

“And what if that gets people around you involved?” Hope asked. “What happens when your actions end up ruining someone’s life? What if someone dies? What then, Snow?”

Get him home, Snow remembered. The last words of the young mother that had died to save him during the Purge. Her hair had been the same shade of platinum blonde as Hope’s. Her face had borne the same gentle features. Hope was the one she had meant all along. “I…” he started to say, backing away toward the railing, but he had no answer to give the boy.

“How do you pay for what you’ve done?” Hope finally said to him.

“I can’t, all right?” yelled Snow. “There is nothing that can make something like that right again. When someone’s dead… When someone’s gone, words are useless.”

“So that’s it?” cried Hope. “People die and you just run away?”

“I know!” he screamed, slamming his fist on the railing. “I know it’s all my fault. But I don’t know how to fix it. Where do you start? What do you say? All I can do is go forward! Keep fighting, and surviving, until I find the answers I need.”

“There are no answers!” shouted Hope. “You’re running from what you deserve!”

“Well, why don’t you tell me what I deserve?” Snow shot back. 

“The same fate!” screamed Hope, falling to his knees as his brand burned with a searing pain. A globe of light exploded from him, knocking Snow clear through the railing and leaving him dangling by one hand, just as he had from the broken railway the day Nora had died.

Hope strode forward, glowing sigils floating through the air around him as he flicked open Lightning’s knife and stood over Snow. “Nora Estheim,” he said expressionlessly, ignoring the pain in his brand, and not even noticing the PSICOM gunship that had honed in on their position. “She was my mother, and she died because of you!” He raised the blade above his head, finally screaming as he could hold the feelings back no longer.

Snow closed his eyes, ready to accept judgment for his mistakes, as a great mobile fortress of gears began to take shape behind Hope. Just as the boy was ready to do the deed, however, the gunship launched a barrage of missiles. Hope’s half-formed Eidolon absorbed the blast, shattering before it could even finish manifesting, but the shockwave still knocked him clear over the edge.

“Hope!” screamed Snow, letting go of the rooftop and grabbing onto the boy as they both fell. He hardened his flesh, but it was nearly a thirty-story drop to the street. He could only pray they would survive as they crashed through two levels of glass awnings, and he rolled over in the air to absorb the impact as he bounced off a steel pipe. Losing his grip on Hope, he tumbled into a stack of shipping crates, and they both blacked out as they fell onto the hard asphalt below.

TWENTY-ONE

“Now arriving, Nautilus Station,” announced the loudspeaker as the ferry slowed to a stop. Vanille and Sazh had barely said a word to each other the whole ride, both of them simply staring out the window at the rain on the bay. 

Sazh stood up, making his way up the gangway and through the turnstiles into the station beyond, with Vanille following nearly ten paces behind. For a mercy, most of Nautilus was indoors, and Sazh’s clothes had begun to dry at last. Vanille sat down on the station floor, a small puddle of water spreading under her as hers were still soaked from standing in the rain.

“Seasick?” asked Sazh. Something had clearly come over the girl, as her formerly irrepressible spirit had been replaced by a silent stare.

“Nope,” she said, standing up. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, then,” he said. Guess even Miss Head-in-the-Clouds can’t stay cheery forever. “Welp, at least this is the perfect place to take our minds off all this shit and have fun.”

“Yeah,” said Vanille idly, looking around the station. “There’s so many people! I hope we don’t get separated.” Even the fireworks show in Bodhum hadn’t been this crowded. There were large cities on Gran Pulse, of course, including the great metropolis of Paddra, but she had never been there, and she had never seen so many people together in one place before.

Neon signs and holographic billboards adorned every corner of the vast transport hub, with trains and ferry boats coming and going to nearly every corner of Cocoon. Cute cartoons of animated chocobos and moogles played across a television screen that took up an entire wall.

“Not a lot of security here, at least,” said Sazh. “For these people, the l’Cie panic must still seem like a world away.”

“A world away,” repeated Vanille. Between the inundation of emotions radiating from the crowds, and her own crushing weight of guilt, it took everything she had to keep up a blank face, let alone a smile.

“Oh, hey!” remarked Sazh as an advertisement flashed onto the TV. “Pompa Sancta Day celebration! Looks like their putting Eidolons on parade. It’s starting soon! What do you say? Want to check it out?”

“Sure!” said Vanille. Maybe a celebration will do me good after all, she thought. 

“We interrupt this program to bring you a breaking news update,” came a voice from the TV, however. “The l’Cie who surfaced in Palumpolum and attacked the citizens are still on the run from authorities. This was the scene in Carbuncle Square earlier today as fighting broke out in the city streets.”

“Oh no…” said Vanille, watching as shaky footage of Lightning and Hope filled the screen.

“Sanctum soldiers are tracking their location,” the newscaster continued, “but have yet to engage the fugitives. The presence of hostages has been confirmed.”

Vanille froze, covering her mouth with her hands as the camera panned upward. For a split-second, a blurry image of Fang had been visible, riding on Shiva with Snow through the thick of the firefight.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sazh.

“It’s her,” she couldn’t help but say. The fleeting image was the first glimpse she had gotten of Fang since she had left her behind at Euride.

“You mean Lightning? Yep. Looks like the army finally caught up to them.”

“Hostages?” muttered a woman nearby. “They’re all probably infected by Pulse now, anyway. I say blow ‘em away with the l’Cie.”

Vanille closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus on her breathing and tune out the rest of the room. Palumpolum, the newscaster had said. She looked around, scanning the room’s myriad displays and screens, trying to determine if one of these trains or boats would take her there, but she still had a hard time deciphering the Cocoon writing.

“The parade’s about to start,” said Sazh. “Come on, let’s go.” He put his arm around her, quietly leading her through the crowd. “Hey, loosen up, right? Gotta make the most of this!”

“Yeah,” she nodded, following him. She no longer wanted to go to the parade, but she would humor him at least. Watch the show, then say good-bye with a smile, she told herself. As soon as the parade was over, she could head for Palumpolum, content in the knowledge that at least she had left Sazh behind somewhere relatively safe.

“Gotta laugh,” Sazh said as they filed into the parade ground. “Pompa Sancta Day celebrates our victory in the war with Pulse, and yet here we are. Pulse l’Cie in attendance!”

“The war…” said Vanille, looking into the sky as a great clock above them counted down from thirteen, and fireworks filled the air. Even she couldn’t help but smile, however, as holographic discs fluttered out over the crowd, and the image of a moogle jumped from one as she caught it.

“It’s party time, little lady!” the creature said, and darted off as a dancing troupe filled the square, opposing orange and blue costumes meant to represent the clashing armies in a graceful portrayal of the scene that haunted Vanille’s nightmares every time she went to sleep.

“Yah-hahahaha!” came a peal of maniacal laughter, as an actor clad in fiery red robes rode in atop an animatronic of the Eidolon Ifrit. “With Pulse-born spite and savage might, I will destroy Cocoon!” he declared as Ifrit breathed fire toward the cheering audience.

How differently history is remembered after so much time, Vanille thought. Who ever stops to think how they’ll be portrayed five centuries later?

From the opposite end of the square rode another actor, this time atop the Eidolon Ramuh, thunderbolts arcing forth as the two beings clashed. “With trusty blade and fal’Cie’s aid, I will defend Cocoon! To battle!”

“I will fulfill my Focus!” shouted the first actor, and a sphere of darkness consumed him and Ifrit both. A massive figure emerged, and Vanille’s heart stopped as she beheld its terrible visage. Ragnarok. The fell beast that had claimed Fang’s soul in those darkest final moments, while she could do nothing but watch helplessly.

Vanille stumbled back, the sound and fury of the simulated battle too much for her to bear as she instantly began to relive the horrors she had seen. The things she had done. “No!” she screamed, pushing her way through the cheering throngs and running for the street, tears streaming down her face.

She collapsed onto a bench, sobbing, grateful that the loud performance drowned out her cries of despair. If our deaths could bring back peace, she thought, would that not be worth it? She could hear the show winding down, and she hurriedly dried her eyes as smiling, laughing parade-goers began to file out of the plaza.

“There you are!” said Sazh, spotting her as he followed the crowd. “You missed the best part! So, where to next, little lady?” he added, imitating the moogle voice.

“I’ll let you decide,” Vanille said, her face expressionless once more. Just keep on smiling, she told herself, forcing her lips to curl ever so slightly. She could still leave Sazh behind and find a train to Palumpolum, but what would truly await her there? Only more fighting and more killing, she knew.

Even if Fang was still there, she had seen the news footage. The city was a war zone. How many soldiers would she have to blast through to find her, and how many more would the two of them have to cut down on their way out? And after all of that, she would be faced with the same dilemma she had had since they woke up in Bodhum. Tell Fang the truth and carry out Anima’s will, or hide it once more and turn Cie’th before her lover’s eyes.

“I know!” Sazh exclaimed, trying to cheer her up. “A Nautilus Park date! With Sazh!”

“Should we really be playing around, though?” she asked.

Sazh shrugged. “Why not? Forget about that heavy stuff for a while, and maybe this’ll just fade away,” he said, gesturing to his brand. Guess we’ve switched roles, he thought to himself.

Maybe this is for the best, Vanille thought. Let this awful war end once and for all, with me. I can stay here, and eventually my brand will be my atonement for my sins. Fang never has to see me turn, and she’ll be able to remember me as I was. “Okay,” she said, hopping up and following Sazh into the crowded street. “So what’s in Nautilus Park?”

“It’s a huge amusement park,” Sazh explained. “Built by the Sanctum, of course. Bet they never expected l’Cie visitors!”

“So is this place special?”

“I promised Dajh,” he admitted. “I was gonna bring him someday. Hope I can at least tell him about it.”

“You’ll get the chance,” Vanille reassured him.

“Maybe,” he muttered. “I do know where they’re keeping him.”

“Can I come with you?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said. “The more, the merrier. What about you? You got someone special out there?”

Vanille swallowed hard. “Special? Nope!” she lied. Not anymore. What would be the point of talking about Fang now? She had made her decision, and telling him about her would only make her resolve falter.

“Really?” remarked Sazh. “Now that is kinda sad.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, sitting down on the sidewalk.

“Hey, I’m kidding!” he tried to backpedal. He didn’t have to be an empath to tell he had hit a sore spot. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Well I’m just fine, thank you!” she said, leaping to her feet and following Sazh down the street once more. “Oh!” she remarked as a pair of small fuzzy sheep ambled past. The cute animals brought a smile to her face once more, just little balls of fluff with faces. “They’re so tiny! Are we allowed to pet them?”

“There are more in the park,” Sazh told her. “Chocobos, too!”

“Look at these woolly little things!” said Vanille, kneeling down and scooping one into her arms. “I just wanna squeeze ‘em till they pop!”

“Come on!” said Sazh. “To get in, we ride the ‘Nautilift.’” He gestured to a bank of submersible pods, floating up and down through clear tubes of water to the park above them. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yep!” she agreed, skipping down the sidewalk and boarding one with him. The doors closed, and the pod began its ascent, bobbing to the surface of an artificial lake and docking at the park entrance. “Oh!” she cried, taking off as soon as the doors reopened and she caught her first whiff of the chocobos.

The domesticated breeds in the park were a bit smaller and less muscular than the wild ones Vanille remembered, but the smell instantly brought back her happiest memories of home. Back on Gran Pulse, she and Fang would ride on the backs of the great yellow birds, dashing and jumping across the vast plains of the Archylte Steppe. 

Those were the times they had felt free as the wind, before they had been branded, away from Mother’s glares and the ever-watchful eyes of the priests that served Anima. Before they had learned of the true nature of her gift, and sealed her fate as their ultimate weapon in the war against Cocoon. 

“Well, somebody’s excited!” came Sazh’s voice as his chocobo chick fluttered out and landed on Vanille’s shoulder.

“Yeah!” she agreed, petting the tiny bird. “Hey, you can make some new friends!”

“Dajh is crazy about chocobos,” he explained. “He really wanted to come here.”

“Wow!” she said as they wandered further into the park. Bouncy electronic music filtered through from speakers on the lampposts, as if to carry her worries away. “I’ve never seen so many in one place before!”

“Ugh,” Sazh complained, covering his nose. “The smell. Glad I don’t work here.” 

Vanille, however, simply closed her eyes and basked in it, losing herself in the memories.

“Hey!” he called out. “Come back here!”

“Huh?” asked Vanille, noticing the baby bird had taken wing. “Oh!” She and Sazh looked hurriedly around the park, chasing after the chick as it fluttered this way and that, hiding first among the tiny sheep, then on a cart full of toys for sale.

“Get over here!” said Sazh as the bird took off from the cart as soon as he got to it, flying between cutely-trimmed rows of hedges and coming to a stop amidst a flock of its larger cousins further into the park.

“Part of the gang already!” giggled Vanille as they finally caught up. The baby had landed on the head of one of the adult birds, and was having the time of its life as it rode around on the gentle creature.

“Yeah,” Sazh remarked. “Always good to be around friends.”

“The fun times are doubled,” said Vanille, hugging the chocobo and burying her face in its soft feathers. “And your worries feel far away.”

“And nothing ever seems as scary,” Sazh added, “when you have someone to share it with.”

“Yep,” she agreed. Even if she never saw Fang again, she had made friends here at least. First Serah, then Hope, Sazh, and even Snow and Lightning had been there for her when she needed them. Even though I… she thought sadly. What kind of friend was she, though, to have dragged them all into her nightmare and not even tell them?

The chocobo chick fluttered back to Sazh, burrowing back into his hair with a satisfied chirp. “You’re still number one, of course!” Vanille said, smiling. She took a deep breath, gazing around at the idyllic scene, gathering her courage once and for all.

Sazh smiled, but Vanille could tell there was no joy there. “Thanks, Vanille,” he said. “Now, when I see Dajh, I can tell him about the chocobos. He’s being held by the military.”

“PSICOM, you mean?” she asked, the smile melting from her face in an instant.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Since he’s a Cocoon l’Cie, they’re running tests. Trying to figure out his Focus. I’m… I’m turning myself in.”

“Huh?” Vanille cried. 

“I know they execute l’Cie,” he said. “But they’re not total monsters. They’ll listen to a father’s last request. They’ll have to. Before the end, I want to talk to Dajh one last time. I want to tell him about these chocobos. Tell him about everything I’ve seen.”

“Wait!” she interrupted, running over to him. “Sazh!”

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t want you to worry. You’re not part of this.”

If only that were true, she thought. “No! Please!”

“You’ll be okay,” Sazh tried to reassure in vain. “You’ll have plenty of time to split before I surrender.”

“That’s not what I meant!” she insisted.

“I’m sorry, Vanille,” he said, his face bearing a weary expression. “I’m just… I’m tired of all this running.”

“But…” she cried. “You can’t!” Not because of me. Not another death. “What about Dajh?”

“Huh?” asked Sazh.

“He’s a l’Cie because of someone from Pulse,” she said nervously. “You can’t give up without getting revenge!” 

“Revenge?”

She closed her eyes for a second, taking Sazh’s hands in her own. The time had come at last for her to take responsibility for all the pain she had caused. “I know who it is,” she said, looking up at him. “I know who’s responsible for the accident. The… The accident at Euride.”

“Then tell me!” he said.

“The l’Cie who ruined your life was…” she started to say, backing away slowly. The flock of chocobos suddenly spooked, dashing past them through the park. “It was me,” she finally admitted, but her words were drowned out as the sounds of gunfire filled the air.

TWENTY-TWO

“Agh!” cried Sazh, stumbling back as bullets dug into the ground at his feet. “Soldiers? Where did they come from?” He drew his guns, returning fire and running for cover. “Get out of here, Vanille!”

She dashed through an archway, running across a decorative drawbridge that led away from the chocobo enclosures with Sazh close behind. Beyond lay a forest of ferris wheels and rollercoasters, but a squad of PSICOM troops blocked the path.

“No place left to run,” said Sazh as the drawbridge abruptly raised behind them. He stepped in front of Vanille, having not heard her confession and still trying to protect her.

I don’t deserve your protection, she thought. Sazh had already opened fire on the troops, however, and Vanille certainly wasn’t going to leave him to fight on his own. She unfurled the binding rod, conjuring an inferno that charred their enemies alive. Their screams echoed in her mind, and the acrid smell of burnt flesh filled her nose. How many more? she thought, closing her eyes and covering her ears, but as an empath, she still heard the cries of their very souls.

Loving someone like Fang had meant violent conflict had ever been a part of her life, but before being branded, she had always stopped short of taking human life. Any time it had been necessary, Fang would step in and spare her the anguish. She had had no such luxury during the war, however, and countless innocents had died by her hand.

“Over there!” Sazh shouted, pointing to a large, unfinished castle-like building at the far end of the park. “The Fiendlord’s Keep is still under construction! Maybe we can hide in there!”

“But we’re always going to be on the run!” yelled Vanille, flinging fireballs between the empty rides and closed concession stands as she and Sazh ran from pursuing soldiers. “We’re l’Cie!”

“Yeah, well…” he started to reply, skidding suddenly to a halt as they reached the construction site’s entrance.

“Daddy!” came a child’s voice from behind a barricade, and Vanille gasped as Dajh ran out to meet his father. “I found you!”

“No,” she whispered. Dajh had some way of sensing things from Pulse, Sazh had told her.

Sazh stood speechless as the young boy sprinted to him, hugging him without any idea what was happening as PSICOM troopers silently surrounded them, keeping their distance but blocking the exits. “Dajh…” he said. “Why are you here?”

“Because you promised!” said the child. “You said we’d go to Nautilus together. So the nice soldier lady took me here and said we’d meet you!”

“Nabaat,” Sazh seethed silently, as a woman in a commander’s uniform strode forth, watching silently without a hint of expression.

“Oh, hi!” Dajh said, waving at Vanille. “Where’s your friend with the cool spear? I wanna see it again!”

“Huh?” asked Sazh.

Vanille backed away silently, covering her face as she realized the full extent of the trap they had blundered into, for no sooner had Dajh made eye contact with her than he began to turn to crystal. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down, she thought with despair.

“Dajh!” cried Sazh. “Wait! No! Come back!” 

“The capture of undesirables,” said Colonel Jihl Nabaat coldly, looking into Vanille’s eyes with a gaze that pierced her heart, as Sazh sobbed silently over his son’s crystal. “It would seem that was your son’s Focus, Mr. Katzroy. Dajh fulfilled it admirably, and served Cocoon in the process. You should be proud of him.”

“Leave him alone,” Vanille seethed, returning her glare and stepping in front of Sazh.

“Oh, but Dajh was a great help,” continued Nabaat. “He could sense power of Pulse origin. That let us track you, and monitor you. The data he provided on enemy l’Cie was invaluable. Words cannot express our gratitude, Mr. Katzroy, so I thought I would provide you with something else.” She tossed a small hologram projector to the floor, and Vanille began to cry as the image appeared in front of her.

“This is security footage from the Euride Gorge energy plant,” said Nabaat, her face showing the slightest hint of sadistic glee as Fang and Vanille were clearly visible in the frame. “Those are the Pulse l’Cie behind the attack. The picture’s a little grainy, but I’m sure you recognize the one on the right. After all, you’ve spent so much time together.”

“The fal’Cie!” came Fang’s voice from the video, as she and Vanille drew their weapons. “Let’s smash it!” And behind them had wandered little Dajh, in perfect view of the camera the whole time as Kujata branded him.

“Vanille,” said Sazh, looking slowly at her, his face a visage of betrayal as she sobbed.

No, she thought. Not like this. He wasn’t supposed to find out like this! Not again!

“Yes,” Nabaat confirmed. “That young lady’s terrorist assault at Euride Gorge is the reason Dajh was made a l’Cie. Ironic, isn’t it? The very girl you’re protecting is the one who stole your son from you.”

“No!” Vanille screamed, covering her ears and running blindly past the barricade. She didn’t even care if they shot her anymore; at least it would end the cycle of lies and anguish.

“Hold,” said Nabaat, however, as her soldiers turned to aim at the girl. “Mr. Katzroy? Shall we finish the job, or would you prefer to?”

Vanille, a l’Cie from the world below? thought Sazh. All this time. It made perfect sense in hindsight, between her strange clothes and accent, the way she had been oblivious about simple facts of Cocoon history and culture, and the way she had always become strangely wistful at any mention of Pulse. He knew deep in his heart that it wasn’t truly her fault Dajh had been branded. That blame lay with Kujata, but what the hell could he do about that? 

Fal’Cie only looked inscrutably on, their unknowable mechanical minds utterly insensitive to such ephemeral, human concepts as love and family. Kujata branding Dajh had been like Sazh’s wife dying in a building fire. An act of fate. How do you blame fate?

Whatever Vanille had done in her past was irrelevant at this point, he knew. What turned his stomach, however, was that she had lied about it. She had deceived and lied to all of them from the moment they had met, before they had even been branded, and he had thought she was oblivious the whole time. So Sazh stood up, his face grim, and followed her into the unfinished castle.

“Vanille,” he said, clutching at his chest as his brand burned. He found the girl on her knees, silently crying in front of the empty Fiendlord’s Throne that still waited for its damn upholstery. He leveled his gun at her, almost willing to do it.

There was no place left to run. “My name,” she declared, standing up and facing him, “is Oerba Dia Vanille. They call me the Woman with the Eyes of a Child. I am a l’Cie from Gran Pulse. The lover of Ragnarok. To everyone on Cocoon, I am pure evil.” Forgive me, Fang, she thought, spreading her arms and closing her eyes. “Shoot me. For your son.”

“Don’t you even!” cried Sazh. “You think you die, and that’s that? You think you die, and everything’ll be sugar and rainbows?”

“Then what can I do?” Vanille wailed, tears pouring down her cheeks. “What do you want from me? If I can’t live or die, then what do you want me to do?”

“Don’t ask me!” he yelled. “You made your bed! You figure out how to lie in it!”

“I don’t know!” she shrieked. “Nothing can ever atone for the things I’ve done. I know that!”

“I don’t know either,” Sazh finally admitted, lowering the gun. Shooting some crying girl wasn’t going to bring his son back, he knew, no matter what she had done, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look at her anymore. “It’s over. There’s nothing to do. Killing you won’t help. Neither will living.” He dropped the gun, falling to his knees as his brand burned more intensely than ever.

A brilliant orange glow burst forth, filling the room with a scorching wind as a sphere of fiery magical glyphs formed above his head. “Aaagh!” cried Sazh in pain as he fell backwards, looking on as the sphere exploded to reveal the Eidolon Brynhildr. “Do your worst, you freak!” he yelled as the great mechanical valkyrie leveled her enormous scythe at him.

“It’s not over!” cried Vanille, standing in Brynhildr’s way. She was done running away, and she was not going to let him give up this easily. This was her atonement, she realized. She had gotten Sazh involved in this mess, and it was her responsibility to protect him, even if he wouldn’t protect himself.

This girl really willing to die for me? Sazh wondered. There was a small part of him that still wanted to kill her himself, but the rest of him refused to lie down and watch her get murdered by some arcane monstrosity. Brynhildr was going to be his problem one way or another, and he jumped up to make a stand beside Vanille.

“Okay, fine,” said Sazh. “You want me? Come and get me!”

In response, the Eidolon seized his soul, swinging her scythe in an arc that knocked him and Vanille over and firing exploding shells at them from the attached gun barrel. Sazh scrambled to his feet, blinking sweat and blood out of his eyes, and channeling magical energy into their muscles to enhance their reflexes.

“Stay strong, Sazh!” Vanille encouraged, healing his wounds and turning toward Brynhildr. The valkyrie’s armor glowed with her own mystical fire, and as Vanille tried to burn her, it only seemed to fuel her. All right, Vanille thought. Let’s put that out. She summoned a mighty burst of water, drenching the Eidolon and filling the room with steam.

“Good idea,” agreed Sazh, coating his next clip in magical water as well, and taking aim. The world may have gone dark and blurry as his life energy faded away, but Brynhildr’s immense burning hulk made for an easy target.

The valkyrie fired off another artillery shot, but Sazh and Vanille dodged out of the way before it could explode. As if in synchrony, the two of them drew forth a crosswind, sending embers flying from Brynhildr’s armor as her fiery core began to cool.

“Hell yeah!” Sazh shouted. “This is gonna sting,” he warned, tossing balls of gravity like grenades. He could barely see anymore, the sounds of battle far away as his body began to shut down with his soul held captive, but the Eidolon’s armor had begun to warp and bend, and she had no choice but to concede that he had passed her little test.

Brynhildr snapped her fingers, returning Sazh’s soul, and she ran forward, her mechanical body folding and transforming before his eyes into a burning race car as she yielded. “All right!” Sazh yelled, the chocobo chick peeking its head out in exhilaration as he leapt into her driver’s seat, spinning and drifting around the room and leaving fiery tire tracks in their wake.

The adrenaline high wore off quickly, however, and Brynhildr returned to a small crystal feather, fading into Sazh’s brand and leaving him alone with Vanille once more. He looked over at the girl, wondering how many more secrets she was keeping, and couldn’t help but point his gun at her once more. She looked at him, first with fear, then with resignation, simply closing her eyes once more to offer her life in atonement.

“A lot of things can be excused,” Sazh muttered, lowering the gun. “Shootin’ kids ain’t one.” 

The baby chocobo fluttered out of his hair and landed on Vanille’s shoulder as she fell to her knees crying again. She didn’t feel like she deserved his kindness, but she was determined to make something of the second chance he was giving her.

“Enough is enough,” Vanille heard Sazh say, however, and she looked up with despair to see that he had turned the gun on himself.

“No!” she yelled, closing her eyes in horror as a shot rang out through the room. The chocobo chirped reassuringly, though, and she steeled herself to look.

Sazh still stood, having turned the gun at the last second to blow a hole in the Fiendlord’s Throne behind him. He dropped the gun, kneeling down and slamming his fists on the floor. “Why can’t I do it?” he cried. “I got no reason to keep living. I can’t even kill you.”

The man’s pain and anguish cut into Vanille’s heart like a knife, and she strode over, putting her hands on his shoulders and closing her eyes. She couldn’t take his pain away, but she could at least share in it. As a l’Cie in love with another woman, she would likely have never known what it was like to have a child, but her gift let her understand Sazh in a way she never could have otherwise, and they cried together.

“How touching,” came Colonel Nabaat’s cold voice as she approached them, however. “You found common ground.” She nodded to her troops, and they surrounded the two, wrestling them apart and holding them at gunpoint. “Pulse l’Cie to the last, are you? Don’t worry about Dajh. Your son’s a hero now. He’s the boy who saved Cocoon. We’ll erect a memorial in Eden, and put his crystal on display for all.”

“A memorial?” spat Sazh. “He’s a little boy!”

“As the son of a Pulse l’Cie,” she told him, “he would have lived in shame and misery. Isn’t it better he be treated with reverence, as a monument to sacrifice?”

“I should be the one to sacrifice,” pleaded Vanille. “I’m the one responsible!”

“Oh, I have a plan for you, young lady,” Nabaat announced. “Director Rosch ordered me to identify the mysterious other l’Cie who helped your friends in Palumpolum, so I scoured the Euride security tapes for clues, and now I can do even better than that.”

“Fang!” cried Vanille. 

“She really cares for you, doesn’t she?” said Nabaat. “Is it love? It will be her undoing, you know. Take them alive,” she told the soldiers. “And be sure to get a good video for the news. With any luck, we’ll snare them all.”

Chapter Text

TWENTY-THREE

Snow opened his eyes, grunting in pain and sitting up, holding his chest as he realized he had several broken ribs. “Hope?” he called out, coughing blood into his gloved hands as he tried unsuccessfully to stand.

He spotted the boy a few feet away, and crawled over to him, trying to shake him awake. “Hey! Hope!” He was unresponsive, but seemed to be alive at least. Gathering his resolve, Snow scooped Hope into his arms, and heaved him onto his back. He didn’t care that Hope had tried to kill him. Nora had died to save his life, and her last words had been to ask him to see her son safely home. He would see her wish fulfilled if it was the last thing he did.

We’ve gotta get back up there, realized Snow, noticing the knife on the ground nearby. Wait, is that Light’s? he thought as he hobbled over to it. He picked it up and stowed it in his pocket, remembering the day he had helped Serah pick it out for her. Wincing in pain, he willed his limbs to move through sheer determination as he spotted an emergency ladder that led back to the park.

Rung by agonizing rung, Snow ascended, floor by endless floor, with the unconscious Hope only dead weight on his arm. Get him home. He had made a promise to himself that day, and nothing was going to stop him from keeping it, even if it killed him. Blood trickled down his face and body, soaking his jacket, and still he kept going. Thirty stories above the alley, he grasped hold of the railing, making one final push to throw Hope over the top, then pulling himself up and collapsing next to him.

Snow burst out coughing once more, the buildings spinning around him, desperately wanting to close his eyes. As more explosions sounded in the distance, however, he knew the army would find them easily up here. With any luck, that’s Light and Fang, he realized, and he forced himself to his feet once more, picking Hope up and carrying him out of the open park and into a quiet side street. Just a few more blocks.

Finally, Hope began to stir, opening his eyes and pushing himself away from Snow’s head as he realized who was carrying him.

“Hey,” Snow said. “You’re awake.”

“Why…” Hope started. “Why did you save me?”

“I was asked to keep you safe,” he explained. “By Lightning, and… And by Nora. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” repeated Hope. The rage within him had dampened, but Snow’s words still hurt. 

“What happened was my fault,” admitted Snow. “I put her in danger. I know that. Let me make things right.”

“You told me before that you couldn’t,” Hope reminded him.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And that words were useless, and a lot of other stupid things I shouldn’t have said. Look, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to set things straight. So I didn’t. I thought if I couldn’t make up for it, then all the apologies in the world wouldn’t mean a thing.”

“They still don’t,” said Hope.

“I know. That’s why I decided I had to find a way to pay for it first, before I’d even have the right to say sorry. But like you said, I was just running away. That hit home. I had been using that as an excuse, so I could run from my own guilt.”

“And now?”

“Look, Hope,” Snow said, wincing and stumbling again as the pain of his injuries caught up with him again. “I know what happened was my fault. I don’t deny it, and I am sorry.” He pulled the knife out of his pocket, handing it back to Hope.

“What?”

“That’s Light’s, isn’t it?”

“Why…” stammered Hope as he took hold of it, opening it and staring at his own reflection in the blade. “Why did you…?”

“That knife was a present from Serah,” he told him. “To keep her safe. Light trusted you with something that important. You should be the one to carry it. I’ll find a way to make things better. Just give me time.”

“How can you possibly make things better?” asked Hope.

“If I can’t,” he said, “if nothing I do is good enough, then I will take any punishment you want to dish out.”

“She’s gone, Snow,” Hope said. “You can take the blame, but it won’t bring her back.”

“I’m sorry,” Snow repeated. He knew it would ring hollow, but there was nothing else he could say.

“I knew it all along,” admitted Hope, folding the knife. “I knew it, but I had to blame someone. I had to. I needed a reason to keep on fighting.”

“It wasn’t ‘someone’s’ fault,” said Snow. “It was mine. Take it out on me, and keep yourself alive until you do.” With that, his injuries got the better of him, and he collapsed to the ground. “I have to… Keep going…” he panted, grabbing hold of a streetlamp and pulling himself back to his feet, but Hope had already let go, and stood up on his own.

“I think…” Hope started to say, taking a deep breath. “I think I can make it.”

“Huh, look at that,” remarked Snow, clutching at his broken ribs. “You don’t even need any help. You’re all right. That’s good to see.”

Hope looked at the man who had been his nemesis, unsure of what to feel anymore. He saved my life, even after I tried to kill him, he realized. Even after I would have killed him. He turned the knife over in his hands, unfolding it and looking at the blade once more.

“May this blade always keep you safe,” he read silently from the inscription under Lightning’s name. A gift from Serah, he thought. He had never met Serah, seeing her only after she had turned to crystal, but he knew she must have truly loved Snow, from the way both he and Light had described her. Whether Serah would awaken from crystal or not, what kind of person would Hope be if he had murdered the man she loved with her knife?

“Just let me…catch my breath,” Snow coughed. His eyes went wide, though, and a gust of wind blew through the palm trees as a massive insectoid bioweapon soared in, carving grooves in the street with its claws as it landed. “Hope!” he yelled, running to shield the boy yet again. “Get back! I got this one!”

The creature struck Snow in the chest with enough force to send him flying into the building behind him, however, and he slumped forward, struggling to breathe as blood began to pool beneath him.

“Snow!” Hope screamed, gritting his teeth. “Always the hero. You want to die?” He stood up, furious, taking hold of his Airwing and dashing out to face the monster on his own. “You can’t. I won’t let you!”

The creature charged power into the halo-like AMP rotor that hovered over its head, raining beams of energized particles down where Hope stood as he hurriedly conjured a shield around himself. He desperately flung magic at it, but nothing he did seemed to even scratch the paint on its metallicized exoskeleton.

A targeting laser pinpointed onto Hope from the beast’s tail, and a searing ray of light burst forth, cutting right through the shield and melting his flesh. “Aah!” he screamed, stumbling back and willing his brand to mend his body. He had wanted to save Snow’s life to make him live with what he’d done instead of die for it, but it was all he could do to keep himself alive as the creature attacked him relentlessly.

With every volley, he forced his wounds to heal, but he knew he was hopelessly outmatched. This is it, he realized in horror, tripping and falling as the mechanized insect charged up for another assault. I’m going to die here, aren’t I?

“Not bad, kid!” came the voice of a woman with a strange accent, and he looked up as Fang leapt in front of him, blocking the particle beam with an unusual crimson lance.

“Where’s Snow?” asked Lightning, running up beside him.

“He took a bad hit, but he’s alive,” he said, standing up once again and healing himself while Fang distracted the enemy.

“You sure you’re up to this?” Fang asked, quickly sizing the kid up. Not much muscle, but he seems in control of his magic, she thought. Kid’s got spunk, at least. She smiled, realizing he reminded her a bit of herself at that age.

“Yeah,” Hope confirmed.

“Come on,” said Lightning. “This thing’ll never know what hit it!”

Fang charged ahead, deftly spinning her lance to strike the creature with one end, then the other, as Hope raised an inferno around it. Lightning charged her saber with electricity, slicing at the cables that powered its claws in an attempt to overload its circuits. In response, it knocked her effortlessly aside as it had done with Snow, and aimed its targeting laser back at Hope.

“Light!” he yelled, healing her as she scrambled to her feet once more.

“Hey, pick on someone your own size!” taunted Fang, thrusting her spear in the closest thing the biomechanoid had to a face to get its attention away from the kid. She held the lance up to block the attack, flowing regenerative energy through her body continuously as the particle beam struck her. “I’ll keep it busy! You two take it down!”

“I think the lasers come from there!” Hope noticed, pointing at the AMP rotor above its head as he summoned a shield around Fang.

“Good eye,” Lightning praised, tossing a sphere of gravity into the rotor to destabilize it.

Fang understood little about the workings of Cocoon technology, but she knew a weak spot when she saw one, and the boy was on to something. She held up her spear, and the flow of time itself began to mire around the spinning artificial halo. “All right!” she called out, nodding at Lightning.

“Let’s see how you like this,” Lightning said, taking advantage of the creature’s slowed movements and muddied reflexes. She flipped into the air, landing on the exoskeleton of the beast’s leg, and leapt up to slice clean through the AMP.

Losing all gyroscopic stability, the broken metal halo spun away from the monster’s head and out into the street, cutting through the trunk of a palm tree like a crazed buzzsaw, and finally clattering harmlessly to the pavement. Without the AMP to regulate the creature’s particle reactor, it began to overload, and the entire rear half of the beast imploded, vaporizing itself in a burst of energy.

“Hmph,” snickered Fang as what was left of the monster collapsed backwards, leaking various glowing liquids and burning with the acrid odor of scorched chemicals. “And here I was expecting a challenge.”

As she gloated, however, Hope only looked pensive. He took Serah’s knife from his pocket once more, and handed it back to Lightning once and for all. “Um…” he said, taking a deep breath. “Operation Nora didn’t work out.”

Lightning simply hugged him tightly, a gesture she had never before shown to anyone save Serah. “You’ll be okay,” she reassured. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Lightning, I…” Hope started, finally letting himself cry once more for the first time since he had found out he was a l’Cie. “Me too. I mean… At least I’ll try. I’ll try to watch out for you too.”

“Don’t forget about this one,” Fang called out, kneeling down over Snow and using an emergency potion to stop his bleeding.

“That one will be all right,” said Lightning, smiling ever so slightly. She walked over and helped him to his feet as he began to come to, and he leaned on her shoulder for support as they set off toward Hope’s apartment again. “He’s too stubborn to die.”

TWENTY-FOUR

Hope hung back as they walked, his face still set with pain every time Snow caught his eye. Even though he had abandoned revenge, forgiveness was not forthcoming.

“Hey, kid,” said Fang, noticing his pained expression. She was no Vanille, but living with the girl for so long had taught her how to pick up on others’ emotions in her own way.

“Huh?” he asked, looking nervously at her.

She smiled reassuringly. “Despite my name, I don’t bite,” she quipped, ruffling his hair slightly. “Revenge is a tough thing to give up, I know.”

“What? I’m not…”

“You’re a bad liar, Hope,” she interrupted. “Take it from me, though. I was a lot like you when I was your age.”

“Like me?” he said. “What do you mean? How do you know anything about me? I don’t even know who you are.”

“May I tell you a story?” asked Fang. “It’s a very old story, from a time when the world was very different. Once, long ago and very far away from here, there lived two powerful families. Their names were Clan Yun, and Clan Dia.”

“Uh huh,” Hope muttered, failing to see the relevance. “What does this have to do with…”

“Interrupting me already, and I’ve barely begun!” she sighed. “Just like I would have. Now, it’ll all make sense when I’m finished. You gonna listen, or not?”

“All right, all right,” conceded Hope. “I’ll listen.”

“Good,” said Fang, continuing as they approached Hope’s neighborhood. “Hey, Light!” she called out. “You’ll wanna hear this one too.”

“Okay,” Lightning said. “I’m listening.”

“All right, then! So,” she continued. “These two families, they hated each other. They’d been feuding for generations, and nobody even remembered why anymore. The hatred between them got worse and worse, building over decades, until finally, spurred on by a tragedy, they clashed in a terrible battle. 

“When the smoke had cleared and the dust had settled,” Fang went on, “the two families had annihilated each other. Wiped each other out, killing even those who had wanted nothing to do with the fighting. The only survivors had been two young girls, one from each family. The last daughter of Yun, barely old enough to walk, and the last daughter of Dia, still a helpless babe.”

“I see,” said Lightning, piecing together the context. She stayed silent, however, and let Fang tell the tale.

“So, if they were so young, how did they survive?” Hope asked.

“Oh, they would have starved to death at the very least,” Fang said. “But they were found by a group of hunters from a remote village who had heard the sounds of battle from afar. The hunters brought these two children back to their village, where they were taken in by an old woman who raised orphans from across the land.

“This headmistress and all the children she cared for lived in a small house, for this was not a wealthy village, and she decided to conceal the truth from these children for fear they would grow up to hate each other for what their families had done.

“So instead,” continued Fang, “the last daughter of Yun and the last daughter of Dia were told that their families had been killed by an enemy fal’Cie, who had taken the land right from under them. Now, the daughter of Yun was a fiery lass, coming as she had from a line of great warriors, and when she heard that, she vowed right then that she would one day avenge her family.”

“I get it,” grumbled Hope. “It’s an allegory for me and Snow, because the other girl wasn’t the one responsible, right?”

“Let me finish!” Fang complained, but she smiled at Hope. “It’s more than that, Hope. So,” she went on, “the daughter of Yun began to train from the moment she could hold a weapon, driven by an all-consuming need to prove herself worthy of her family name. 

“The daughter of Dia, however, couldn’t have been more different! She was a gentle soul, and she was content to leave the past behind and make the most out of the life she had. She had a rare gift, however: she could feel others’ pain as if it were her own. And the person in the village who carried the most pain? It was the daughter of Yun herself.

“It didn’t take long for the two to become fast friends,” continued Fang. “The gentle daughter of Dia had no interest in vengeance, but she stayed by the older girl’s side as she threw herself into training, mending her wounds whenever she’d push herself too far, and always providing an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on.

“In turn, the daughter of Yun vowed to protect her, stepping in defiantly whenever other children would bully her, not afraid to rough up even much older kids if that’s what it took. The headmistress would get furious, and try to keep the two apart as punishment. But, the Dia girl would cry, and the Yun girl would sulk, and eventually she would have no choice but to relent and let them see each other once more.

“And so it went on, until the Dia girl was fourteen and the Yun girl sixteen. Now, in those days, sixteen was the age when one was considered an adult, and she was finally ready to avenge her family. So, she packed her things, preparing to set out on a quest to find the fal’Cie that had slaughtered her family and left her an orphan. She hadn’t told the daughter of Dia she was planning to leave, though, and when the girl found out, they fought as they never had before!

“The daughter of Yun knew she was going on a dangerous mission that she might not return from, and she was determined not to drag her friend along. But the daughter of Dia could be willful in her own way, and she was not about to let her leave without coming along. They yelled and pleaded with each other, and it wasn’t long before the headmistress heard the commotion and stepped in.

“Of course,” Fang went on, “the daughter of Dia was still too young to leave the village, and the headmistress forbade her from going. So, she had no choice but to stay behind as her only friend left on a perilous journey. That night, though, the daughter of Dia snuck out alone, using the things she had learned from her friend’s training to track her into the wilderness, and finally coming to the ruins of a great castle that had once belonged to Clan Yun.

“There, she caught up with her friend, who admonished her for being reckless, but was also glad not to have to face this alone. Together, they searched the ruins for clues, and came upon the terrible truth, that their two families had killed each other, and Clan Dia had been the ones to attack first.

“The last daughter of Yun was filled with rage, and turned to the last daughter of Dia, almost ready to strike the girl down for the misdeeds of her forebears. But the instant their eyes met, the daughter of Yun dropped her weapon, coming to know the true folly of vengeance,” Fang finished, her own eyes tearing up from the memory. “That was the moment I realized I loved Oerba Dia Vanille,” she admitted. “I declared my feelings for her right then and there, and we’ve been together ever since. And when the priests of Anima took her away to make her a l’Cie, I followed.”

“Wait, what?” spat Hope. “You…and Vanille… Are you from Pulse?”

“Born and raised,” Fang admitted as they arrived in front of Hope’s family home. “You scared of me?”

“No, I…” Hope sputtered. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Snow, you didn’t tell him?” asked Lightning.

“Uhh…” Snow muttered, still woozy. “It kinda didn’t come up while he was trying to kill me…”

“The moral of the story is that vengeance is a terrible reason to fight,” explained Fang. “Ever since that day, I fight only for my family. I knew back then that Vanille was the only family that mattered any more. But now, she and I are stuck on Cocoon with an entire army trying to kill us, and… Well, because of us, you all got dragged in, too. So, to make up for that, we’re your family as well now.”

“Family,” Hope repeated, his face falling at the mention of the word.

“You worried about what’ll happen when you see your old man?” asked Fang.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “He’s never cared much about who I was, even before… Before I became…”

“Your dad leaves you in the lurch, we’ve got you,” she reassured. “Lightning, me, even Snow. We’ve all gotta stick together now. And if he turns out to be enough of a coward to call in the army because you’re a l’Cie, you’ve got the last daughter of Yun on your side. Now, Hope, you go and knock on that door. We’re all with you.”

Hope took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come, and walked up to the door of his home. He rang the bell, and stood back nervously. The door slid open, and he found himself looking into his father’s eyes at last.

“Hope?” asked Bartholomew Estheim, his voice filled with worry.

“Dad,” he acknowledged, looking at the floor. “Mom’s gone.”

“No…” whispered Hope’s father, swallowing hard. “Come on, Hope. Let’s…” he began, sighing and fighting back tears. “Let’s go inside.”

“Dad, you know I’m…”

“A l’Cie, yes,” he said. “I’ve been watching the news since the Purge. Worrying the whole time. Come inside. Your friends, too.”

“Okay,” Hope said, following his father inside.

“Ugh,” grunted Snow, tripping on the doorjamb as Lightning helped him in.

“Mr. Estheim?” asked Lightning. “He’s pretty badly hurt. Is there a place he can lie down?”

“Of course,” he said, gesturing to a spare bedroom. “You’ve taken care of my son. Please, make yourselves at home. There should be bandages in the bathroom if you need some.”

“Dad, it was all fake,” Hope said as Lightning took Snow into the back of the house to treat his wounds. “There never was any ‘new home on Pulse.’ The army just wanted to kill us all. Some… Some people tried to fight, and that’s when…”

“Nora,” he said, sitting on the couch and beginning to cry.

“Dad…” Hope tried to say. “I, um… I’ll… I’ll be in my room. We’re gonna rest up, then we’ll leave. If they find out you’re sheltering l’Cie, they’ll…” Fang watched silently from the kitchen as Hope turned to walk off. 

“Hope!” his father called, however, slamming his fist on the coffee table in frustration. “You’re my son. This is your home.”

Hope sighed, but he nervously walked back, and sat on the couch next to his father. Fang smiled as Bartholomew put his arm around the boy, and Hope began to recount the tale of all that had happened since the Purge began. She breathed her own deep sigh of relief, wandering away and pacing through the fancy apartment as night began to fall outside.

Strange electronics and fine furniture filled every room, so different from the simple life she and Vanille had lived back home. She peered at the family photos that lined the shelves, seeing Hope’s mother for the first time. This must be his room, she realized as she peered into a whimsically-decorated bedroom. Plush moogles and cactuars lay on the bed, and a photo of Hope with a girl his age stood prominently on the shelf. She turned on the TV, and a news report immediately filled the screen.

“Now for an update on the situation in Palumpolum,” said the anchor. “The l’Cie continue their desperate flight, and the military has now launched an all-out campaign to eliminate them. In addition, roughly twenty-five-hundred civilians believed to have come in contact with the l’Cie are now being held in quarantine by the Sanctum. Our latest insta-poll has shown a vast majority in favor of the immediate Purging of these individuals, believing their treatment…”

Fang turned the TV back off before the reporter could finish, shaking her head. Madness, she thought. But no news of Vanille. That’s good, at least. She stepped into the guest bedroom, noticing Snow laid out on the bed, his jacket off and his bare chest wrapped in bloody bandages and makeshift gauze. “How’s he doing, Light?” she asked.

“Passed out cold, but he’ll make it,” Lightning answered. “Hey, Fang, you really mean all that stuff you said about family?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she said.

“Just thinking,” said Lightning, taking out Serah’s knife and holding it tightly. “All the shit I said to Serah when I first found out she’d been branded, the shit I said to Snow when I found him at the Vestige, trying to save her himself. Fang, I should tell you…” she admitted, “I’m the one that left Vanille behind. Her, and Snow, and Sazh, who fought beside me during the Purge. Tried to leave Hope behind, too, but a certain Eidolon wouldn’t let me. You have every right to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Fang reassured. “How could I? You heard my story. You heard what I used to be like. Besides, Vanille’s tougher than she looks. She’ll be okay.”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been really shitty to you all,” Lightning admitted. “We get out of here in one piece, and I’ll help you. Look for Vanille, I mean. I never really understood what made people fall in love, but…I can see how much she means to you.”

“Thank you, Light,” Fang said, smiling. “Heads up! Man of the hour’s awake.”

“Ugh…” groaned Snow, stirring.

“He loves Serah as much as I love Vanille, you know,” she reminded Lightning as she wandered back to the hallway. “You want to make up for your behavior, start with him.” She stepped out of the room, leaving them to talk alone.

“Hey,” said Lightning, as Snow tried to sit up. “Lay down.”

“All right,” he said, grimacing and flopping back onto the bed. “Huh,” he added, noticing the knife in Lightning’s hand. “I see you took the kid’s toy away.”

“He gave it back to me,” she explained, sitting on a stool next to the bed. “Said he didn’t need it anymore.”

“Go figure,” said Snow, smiling.

“It was too much,” she admitted. “What happened to Serah, I mean. All I could think about was what I could have done differently. I hated myself for not trusting her. It hurt too much, and I couldn’t face it. Look, Snow, I…” She took a deep breath and gathered her resolve. Apologizing to Fang had been one thing, but she had a lot of bitter history to unpack with Snow. “I’m sorry,” she finally stated. “Forgive me.”

“For what?” Snow only asked.

“Everything,” admitted Lightning, standing up. 

“Well, if you told me your real name, I suppose I could.”

“Hmph,” she grunted, but the slightest hint of a smile pulled at her lips. “Have Serah tell you. When she comes back.”

“Deal!” said Snow.

A knock sounded from the bedroom door, and Hope stepped in. “My dad said he’d like to see you guys. He wants to talk.”

TWENTY-FIVE

“Hope brought me up to speed,” said Bartholomew as the four l’Cie took seats in his living room, the news reports silently continuing from the muted TV. “I had trouble believing the Sanctum would go to such extremes at first, but my son has seen it with his own eyes.”

“The blame for your wife’s death is mine,” insisted Snow, kneeling down on the floor before the grieving widower. “I couldn’t save her.”

“If it wasn’t for Snow,” Hope admitted, “I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Mr. Villiers,” Bartholomew began, sighing and wiping tears from his eyes. “Did Nora… Did she say anything to you?”

“Hope,” Snow replied. “Her last words were… She said to get him home.”

“And that’s exactly what you did,” he said, putting his arm around his son as the tension in the room began to dissipate. “Face to face like this, it’s hard to believe you’re all ‘dangerous fugitives.’ But the entire world is scared to death of you l’Cie. Not even just you… People who’ve helped you, bumped into you, even just walked by one of you. They think they’re all ‘tainted’ and want every one of them Purged.” He looked over at the TV, watching as innocent civilians were being herded onto airships by heavily-armed soldiers.

“The Sanctum’s a puppet of the fal’Cie!” yelled Snow. “To them, our lives don’t mean anything at all. But we’ll stop this. Take down the Sanctum, and save Cocoon!”

“You’ve thought that through?” Bartholomew asked. “If l’Cie take down the Sanctum, fear of Pulse will only get worse. And it won’t stop at fear. People will take up arms, and stand against you. Can you imagine the rampant violence that would break out?”

“When the government’s control is gone, the citizens will revolt,” agreed Lightning. “We won’t be heroes, we’ll be villains.”

Snow closed his eyes, thinking of the scared mob that had tried to attack him and Hope in the streets. He glanced up at the TV as well, knowing they were about to be Purged because of him, and wondering what he could have done differently. He knew the man was right, but what other course could they take? 

“So, what then?” asked Fang. “Are we supposed to just smile and eat a bullet? That means you, too, you know.” She shook her head, knowing that Vanille likely wouldn’t hesitate to do just that if she truly thought it would save these people. The last daughter of Yun was not wont to just roll over and accept fate, but even she knew she wouldn’t be able to look Vanille in the eye if she let Cocoon tear itself apart.

“I know I’m part of this,” admitted Bartholomew. “I’m on your side of the fence now. Harborer of l’Cie, and a public enemy.”

“Coming here was a bad idea,” Hope muttered.

“This is your home,” his father reminded him. “We’re all here. Let’s figure this out together.”

“Not all of us,” interjected Fang. “Before we do anything we still have to… Vanille!” She ran to the TV, anxiously unmuting it as the faces of her partner and Sazh flashed across the screen.

“Now for some good news as the l’Cie crisis continues to grip Cocoon,” said the newscaster. “Reports have just come in that these two fugitives, whose whereabouts had been previously unknown, have at last been apprehended in Nautilus.”

“No,” gasped Hope, all of them watching in horror as the camera zoomed in on Vanille and Sazh, handcuffed and clad once more in Purge robes, being led into an airship by an entire platoon of PSICOM troops.

In an instant, however, the picture was gone as power went out in the entire building. Lightning jumped up, drawing the Blazefire Saber. Standard strike force tactic, she realized. Cut power, and then… “Heads up!” she yelled as a trio of smoke bombs crashed through the window, filling the room with opaque fog as the sounds of footsteps could be heard from outside.

“Hope!” yelled Snow, leaping to his feet to defend the others as soldiers stormed in, but even his magically-enhanced body hadn’t been able to heal that fast. He fell to his knees, coughing and gripping his chest in pain.

“You’re not ready for this!” said Hope, leading his father behind the couch for cover. “I’ll stay and fight, Snow. You help my dad!”

“Gotcha,” he agreed, taking Bartholomew’s arm and helping him into the hall. “Come on, this way!”

Fang and Lightning had already charged into action to buy them time, but the darkness and smoke was an effective tactic. “Cover me!” yelled Fang, punching and kicking soldiers out of the way as she dived into the kitchen to retrieve her lance.

“Behind you!” cried Lightning, cutting a man down just as he had been about to open fire on Hope.

“Well, the adrenaline’s flowing now!” Fang shouted, impaling a member of the initial strike team on her crimson spear and using his body for a shield as a second wave of troops opened fire. “You want him back?” she taunted, kicking the man’s bullet-ridden corpse off the end of the lance and into the other soldiers. They had taken Vanille, and she was not in the mood for mercy.

“Hope, the fog!” said Lightning, slashing blindly in the dark.

“On it!” he replied, taking the Airwing and summoning a gale-force wind that both cleared the air and slowed their enemy’s advance. He quickly followed up with a flood of water, soaking the carpet and dripping from the ceiling, perfect for Lightning to take advantage of.

He didn’t even need to say anything as she recognized the opportunity, electricity from her brand coursing through her arm as she swung the saber in a low arc through the puddle. The troops staggered back, screaming as the standing water was charged with voltage high enough to kill them.

An explosion sounded from the apartment’s front door, and Fang ran to the hallway as another squad charged in through the hole they had blown. She planted her spear into the floorboards and swung her entire body into the air, using the momentum to deliver a kick powerful enough to snap the leader’s neck. Hope ran after her, lighting the narrow hallway on fire and leaving the soldiers no choice but to retreat or burn alive.

“If we barricade ourselves in here, they’re not just gonna give up and go away,” Fang warned.

“Then what do we do?” cried Hope, as gunfire sounded from the living room’s shattered windows once more.

“We wait for an opening, then we make a run for it!” shouted Lightning, returning fire from behind a makeshift cover of chairs and shelves.

In the master bedroom, Bartholomew and Snow had locked the door and taken cover behind the bed as gunshots and screams echoed from the rest of the apartment. “Are they gonna…” Bartholomew started to say, his heart pounding and his stomach twisted with worry.

“They’ll be fine,” Snow reassured. “Your son’s a tough kid, and Lightning and Fang are probably the strongest people I’ve ever met.” The sounds of battle faded, and Snow forced himself to stand up.

“Is it over?”

Snow staggered over to the door, peering through, then motioning for Bartholomew to follow. The living room was a shambles and several small fires had broken out, but the other three were unharmed and there was no sign of more resistance.

“Now’s our chance,” said Lightning, pointing to the window.

Hope knelt down over a family photo that had fallen from a shelf. The glass had cracked and the paper was waterlogged, partially obscuring an awkward picture of him and his parents where none of them had quite been able to smile. He picked it up, fighting back tears as he placed it gently on the broken coffee table.

Before they could escape, though, a searchlight pierced the darkness as a PSICOM gunship descended, hovering off the balcony right outside the window. “Okay, who ordered the battalion?” Fang quipped, shaking her head.

“They’ll take out the whole building next,” said Lightning. She gestured for Snow and Bartholomew to join her in cover behind the couch.

“Dad!” cried Hope, running to his father.

“Hope! Thank goodness! Are you hurt?”

“No,” he reassured. “How about you?”

“Still in one piece,” Bartholomew said. “Anyone have a plan?”

“My turn,” said Snow, standing up unsteadily.

“You sure?” asked Fang. She admired his courage, but it had taken her many long years to learn the difference between bravado and foolishness. With his injuries, he’d make one hell of an easy target.

“Dead sure,” Snow confirmed, as she and Lightning both looked at him with concern. His mind was made up; this had to stop. He removed his jacket once more, standing at the edge of the window and holding the jacket out as if it was a truce flag. The troops outside, however, didn’t see it that way, immediately opening fire.

“Snow!” implored Lightning, but he was undeterred.

“Don’t shoot!” yelled Snow, even as the soldiers peppered his jacket with bullet holes. “I’ll show you what a l’Cie looks like!”

The gunfire ceased, and Snow dropped the jacket, slowly stepping out into the light, unarmed, with his bloody bandages clearly visible and his hands above his head. Laser sights from a dozen weapons played across his skin, focusing right onto his forehead as he looked right at the nervous soldiers. 

“Me,” announced Snow. “I’m a l’Cie. Surprised? Expected some kind of monster? I am flesh and blood like you. An ordinary citizen of Cocoon. Don’t you get it? This has been our home our whole lives! How could we even think about destroying it? We want to protect this place just as much as you do!”

Murmurs of confusion swept through the troops as they pondered his words. PSICOM doctrine was crystal clear on this matter: Pulse l’Cie would stop at nothing to destroy Cocoon, and must be stopped by any means necessary. The wounded, unarmed man that stood before them, though, did not seem like a brainwashed servant of an enemy fal’Cie, nor did he seem like a threat to anyone in the state he was in.

“You must be Snow Villiers,” came a cold voice as Director Rosch himself stepped out before him. “Yaag Rosch, PSICOM Division.”

“This isn’t good,” whispered Lightning. Snow’s words had been moving, but if anyone could get the troops to fall in line, it would be Rosch.

“Mm,” Fang growled, tightening her grip on her spear. She wanted nothing more than to beat information on Vanille’s whereabouts out of Rosch, but she knew it would be suicide.

“I understand your plight,” said Rosch. “However, the Pulse threat is not so easily dismissed. The very existence of you l’Cie puts every last one of us in danger. Tell me, do you really think your life is worth more than the lives of millions of Cocoon citizens? I do not. Your lives are forfeit.”

“Oh, cut the crap!” yelled Snow. “You want l’Cie? Then kill l’Cie! Why do other people have to die? The Purge has got to stop!”

“Do you think we want to Purge our own people?” spat Rosch. “If any trace of Pulse remains, the populace will erupt into chaos. Without sacrifice, without the Purge, Cocoon will die.” 

A smoke grenade tumbled in from behind Rosch, and he turned around as fog began to fill the balcony and gunshots could be heard in the distance. “What?” he yelled. “Who fired? I gave no order!” Chaos erupted amongst the soldiers as a full-scale firefight broke out with some unseen assailant.

“It’s another unit, sir!” yelled a soldier as he returned fire. “What the hell are they doing?”

“Fall back!” ordered Rosch as the troops around him were mercilessly gunned down. “What?” he yelled, noticing as some of his own PSICOM unit had begun to aim their weapons at him, however. “No! You can’t…” 

His words were cut off as his own subordinate pulled the trigger. Guess Snow’s little parley worked, thought Lightning. This is the best chance we’re going to get. “We’re leaving!” she announced. “Hope, tie up your dad. Mr. Estheim! Tell them we threatened you and forced you to help us, got it?”

“There must be something else I can—” Bartholomew started to complain.

Hope stopped him, however, grabbing a tangle of fallen drapery. “Do what she says, Dad,” he told him, removing the cord from the curtains and wrapping it around his father’s hands. “I can’t let you get dragged into this. I want to stay here, but there’s no place for a l’Cie. The others… They’re my family too, now, and I’m going with them. We’ll survive, somehow. I promise you that.”

“They’ll take care of you,” his father realized, looking over at Lightning and Fang, both of them noticeably proud at how capable Hope had become. 

“And I’ll take care of them, too,” said Hope. “Dad, I hate to run out on you…”

“You’re not running!” insisted Bartholomew. “This isn’t running away. You’ve made a choice. Like you said, you’ll survive, and do what needs to be done.”

“You mean complete my Focus?” Hope asked.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he said. He had heard the stories of Cie’th as well, but Hope was not a little boy anymore. “You make the choice.”

Hope hugged his father tightly, fighting back tears. “Thanks, Dad,” he finally said. There was so much more he wanted to say, but the sound of sirens and gunfire from outside was beginning to get louder again.

“Hope, we have to leave now!” called Lightning.

He nodded, hurriedly giving his father one last hug, and ran after her. The fighting on the ground had ceased nearby, but the PSICOM gunship still hovered in the air, and its searchlight had fixed firmly on Snow as the three of them dashed outside.

“Our turn, Hero,” Lightning insisted, pushing Snow behind her.

“What?” Snow snarked, but he was still coughing. “I can handle… A little gas…”

“Catch your breath!” said Hope, stepping in front of him as well. “I’ll throw in some hits for you!”

“That ship’ll blow up the whole tower if we don’t take it down!” shouted Lightning. She drew the Blazefire Saber, pelting the airship with a volley of bullets, but they might as well have been gnat bites on a behemoth.

“You got any bright ideas?” asked Fang. Magic had never been her forté as a l’Cie, and her lance was useless against a foe that hovered two stories above them.

“Draw its fire!” Lightning yelled, tossing bolts of electricity at the ship’s main cannon. “Hope and I will try and overload the cannon!” If it gets a shot off with that, she thought, we’re dead.

“All right,” said Fang, stepping in front as Hope conjured a shield around her. “Give it your best shot!” Missiles erupted from a launch pod on the ship’s underbelly, and she deftly parried them with the lance, sending them flying off in every direction. She closed her eyes, drawing regenerative energy from her brand to keep herself alive as a pair of turrets opened fire on her.

“Hope, those are the cannon’s heat sinks!” Lightning called out, pointing at a pair of metal plates that unfolded around the central barrel. “If we overheat them, it’ll blow. With any luck, that’ll be enough to bring the ship down.”

“Already on it!” said Hope, calling forth a flaming whirlwind that he cast into the workings of the cannon. The metal plates began to glow red hot, but the cannon was beginning to charge anyway. “It’s not enough!”

“Don’t let up!” cried Lightning, unleashing a barrage of gunfire at the cannon assembly.

Another burst of missiles streaked in, and Fang spun the lance to knock them off course once more, but one of them found its mark this time. She was thrown backwards like a rag doll as it exploded at point-blank range, covered in terrible burns and reaching for her lance despite the pain.

“Fang!” Hope screamed, running to her. Even he could tell her wounds were nearly fatal.

“The last daughter…of Yun…isn’t going down…that easy…” she panted, coughing up blood as she struggled to even move.

“Hang in there! I’ve got you!” he called out, putting his hand on her arm and closing his eyes. It was a risky move with the gunship’s turrets still firing at them, but Hope wasn’t about to let her die after all her talk of family and sticking together. He let the world fade into the background, focusing only on the magic flowing from his brand as he desperately pulled her back from the brink.

“Hope!” yelled Lightning, snapping him back to his senses as Fang came to. “Look alive!”

The ship let loose a third volley of missiles, and Fang roared, grabbing the lance and jumping up. “Payback time,” she spat, separating her spear into two halves connected by a metal cord. She struck the missiles out of the air one after another, finally knocking the last one directly back at the ship’s cannon as it was about to fire.

The missile struck the barrel of the cannon, the explosion causing its deadly charge to backfire. A chain reaction coursed through the ship’s vital systems, blowing out its AMP rotors and overloading its main reactor as it began to fall out of the air. No sooner had it crashed to the ground below, however, than another one arrived to take its place, its bright searchlights glaring into Fang’s eyes. “Again?” she said incredulously. “There’s no end to these guys!” 

This gunship simply descended to the level of the balcony, though, hovering right at the edge and opening its hatch as a squad of soldiers disembarked. They wore the black-and-orange uniforms of PSICOM, but they did not attack.

“Heya, Fang,” said the leader, pulling his helmet off and revealing himself as Rygdea. “Need a ride?”

“Don’t get cute,” said Fang, but she silently breathed a deep sigh of relief anyway. “Right, let’s move it.”

“It’s okay,” Snow reassured as he stumbled forward. “They’re Cid’s troops. They’ll help us.”

“Oh, and Hope,” Fang added, turning to face the boy who had saved her life. “Thanks. I really owe you.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he reassured. “We’re family.”

TWENTY-SIX

“Tell me you have intel on Vanille,” said Fang, glaring right into Cid’s eyes. She hadn’t stopped to rest, shower, or even eat, instead having headed straight for the Lindblum’s bridge as soon as they had docked.

“There’s no need,” the general replied, pressing a button on the console next to the commander’s chair and bringing up a news broadcast on a monitor. “An official announcement has just been made. She and Mr. Katzroy are being held aboard the Palamecia.”

“The l’Cie will face official sentencing upon the convoy’s arrival in the capital,” came the newscaster’s voice.

“So what’s with the freak show?” asked Snow, as he and Lightning strode in behind her.

“So the Primarch can stand in judgment of the villainous l’Cie,” Cid explained. “A show trial, with their execution as the climax. The people will cheer their demise, and fal’Cie dominion will be undisputed.”

“I’m not going to let that happen!” spat Fang. “This is Vanille we’re talking about! Take me there.”

“I understand your concern for your companion, Ms. Yun,” said Cid. “But the PSICOM fleet has us under surveillance already, and the Lindblum is no match for the Sanctum’s flagship. As it was with Captain Rygdea’s covert infiltration of Palumpolum, a certain amount of discretion will be necessary.”

“Oh, I know they’re baiting us,” said Fang. “Trying to draw us out. I just don’t care.”

“Bait, huh?” muttered Snow.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Lightning added. “‘Here are your friends, come and get ‘em.’”

“Well, if they’re daring us to mount a rescue, I’ll take that action,” Snow declared. “All in!”

“That’s what I want to hear!” Fang agreed.

“There is one other reason to keep our cards close,” said Cid as the broadcast continued.

“In a display of unwavering dedication to duty,” continued the newscaster, “the Primarch himself has boarded the Palamecia, and focused his personal attention on resolving the Pulse crisis.”

“Sergeant Farron,” said Cid. “We have been given an opportunity to end the Purges once and for all. If we can capture Galenth Dysley alive, his testimony will prove essential to convincing the people of the Sanctum’s true nature. Once people learn of the fal’Cie deception, this Pulsian panic should begin to ease, and we can avoid the loss of any more civilian lives.”

“You’re talking about a coup, aren’t you?” realized Snow.

“A revolution,” Cid corrected. “The Sanctum has raised its citizens like livestock under the orders of the fal’Cie Eden. That all ends today. We will topple the Sanctum, and hand the reins of government to the people! This is nothing less than a battle to wrest control from the fal’Cie, and win Cocoon its freedom.”

“Rescuing Sazh and Vanille still has to be our top priority,” said Snow.

“As it should be,” the general agreed. “But when the time is right, our brigade will be ready to launch an all-out assault to back you up. You should take the opportunity to rest while we complete preparations. Captain Rygdea will meet you on the flight deck when we arrive.”

“Understood, sir,” said Lightning.

“‘Sergeant Farron,’ eh?” Fang remarked as they left the bridge. “Got your old job back, did you?”

“I suppose so,” she admitted. “I always knew General Raines was an idealist, but I never thought he’d go so far as to outright oppose the Sanctum. Then again, I never thought I’d be fighting alongside someone from Pulse, either.”

“Pretty crazy, isn’t it,” agreed Fang. “So he’s a ‘brigadier general,’ Rygdea’s a ‘captain,’ and you’re a ‘sergeant?’ What’s with this whole ranking system, anyway?”

“Chain of command,” she explained. “Based on a combination of seniority and accomplishment. Raines commands the entire brigade, Rygdea leads the smaller units that make it up, and I’m in charge of a squad in the field. You didn’t have anything like that?”

“I wasn’t exactly part of an army,” Fang said. “At least not before I became a l’Cie. It’s not like I remember what happened after. I was happy to fight to protect Vanille, and to protect my village, but us Gran Pulse folk have never been much for the kind of rules and regulations you’ve got on Cocoon. Guess it explains why you’ve put up with the Sanctum’s nonsense for so long! Well, we’ll get in there and take this Dysley guy down. That’ll pay Raines back for helping us out, and be one in the eye for the Sanctum besides. Their reward for trying to kill us.”

“And in return, I’m going to keep my promise,” Lightning reassured her. “Get Vanille back to you, safe and sound. Better rest up while you can.”

* * *

“I’m pathetic,” grumbled Sazh. He and Vanille had been drugged by PSICOM troops, and by the time they had awoken, they were as far from the glitzy bustle of Nautilus as they could get. The faint thrum of an airship engine reverberated through their dingy cell, and they knew they could be anywhere on Cocoon by now.

“That’s my line,” said Vanille, quietly cradling the chocobo chick in her hands for comfort. “I’m the one who lied to everyone.”

“Forget it,” he told her. “You can’t change what’s done.”

“But, if I’d just told the truth…” she started to say. “If I’d told the truth from the beginning…”

“Now, now,” Sazh interrupted. “I’ve been thinking. You woke up from being a crystal once, right? Maybe Dajh’ll wake up one day too.”

“I…suppose so,” she agreed. But to do what? 

“What was it like?” he asked. “I mean, how did it happen? You were done with your Focus, right?”

“I was chosen,” Vanille admitted. “I was made into a l’Cie to fight against Cocoon. It happened back on Gran Pulse, hundreds of years ago. I was born an empath, you see. I can feel others’ pain. I wanted to use that gift to help people, but the village priests who served Anima knew it would make my magic especially potent as a l’Cie. What I wanted never factored in to the decision. I was an orphan, with no family line to represent, and the headmistress who raised me was more than happy to see me put to use in the war against Cocoon. The only one who really cared what happened to me was Fang.”

“Fang… She’s the other woman who was at Euride, right?” realized Sazh. “She your sister, then, or what?”

“Not exactly,” Vanille told him, blushing slightly. “We did grow up together, though. She was another orphan like me, who would stick by me even when no one else would, and when we got older, we fell in love.”

“Ah,” he said. “So she’s the ‘someone special’ you’ve got out there, then.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “When the priests took me away to be branded, she followed, and together, we went to war. What happened next… There are some things no one should have to remember.” She closed her eyes, forcefully pushing the thoughts out of her mind.

“I’m sorry,” Sazh said. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” she reassured. “I may have a child’s eyes, but I have no innocence left. I became a killer that day, and Fang and I finished our Focus, falling into a long crystal sleep. Or so it seemed, anyway.”

* * *

Vanille opened her eyes, the strange dreamlike state of crystal stasis fading away to reality once again. She lay on the floor in the entrance hall of Anima’s temple, seemingly alone save for her partner, still unconscious a few feet away.

“Fang!” she called out, hurriedly shaking the other woman awake. “Are you… Please tell me you’re you again…”

“Ugh…” Fang groaned, clutching at her head. “What…happened? Am I…?” She felt a sore spot on her arm, and looked over at the strange white mark, the shape of a l’Cie brand but like none she’d ever seen. “The hell kind of brand is that?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Vanille, pulling her lover into an embrace as she realized Fang was finally herself again. She looked down at her own brand, but it was normal. “I’m just so glad you’re back. I wonder how long it’s been. Where are all the priests?”

“Good question,” Fang remarked. “I figured they’d make me a l’Cie too, but why leave us alone like this? Agh, my head!”

“Huh?” Vanille asked. “Make you a l’Cie? Do you…not remember?”

“Mother told me they’d taken you away,” she said. “So I ran to the temple and confronted the priests. Ugh, they must have knocked me out somehow, and then… I don’t…quite know what happened after that. Like, it hurts to try to think about, even. Don’t worry, though, Vanille. I’m not about to let them make you fight Cocoon on your own.”

All of it? wondered Vanille. She forgot everything? All the horrors, all the things they had survived, even their last night together before that terrible final battle? “Let’s go see what’s going on, then!” she said, running for the door. Surely someone would have answers for them.

Vanille swung the temple’s door open wide, taking a deep breath of fresh air. The breeze smelled different, though, and as she and Fang stepped out into the sunlight, they realized something was drastically wrong. The landscape was nothing like it should have been; where great wind turbines should have stood watch over an endless field of flowers, there was instead a beach lined with palm trees and strange bushes. 

Surf from an impossibly blue ocean crashed onto pearl-white sand, and where the rustic village of Oerba should have been, there was now a cluster of sleek, ornate buildings of a design neither of them had seen before.

“What the hell?” muttered Fang, looking up. Even the sky was wrong, she realized, noticing as the horizon seemed to curve up instead of down. As if they were on the inside of a planet instead of the outside…

“It can’t be…” Vanille mused. “Are we inside Cocoon?”

“Must be,” Fang said. “But how? It’s not just us, either. The whole damn temple is here!”

Anima’s Throne had somehow been plucked right from the surface of Gran Pulse, the entire structure now standing guard over this strange city inside a world populated by their enemies. The seaside town didn’t seem like an enemy stronghold, though, noticed Vanille, and the carefree people sunbathing and playing in the waves in the distance were anything but the hateful fanatics of Lindzei she had been taught to expect.

“Not exactly what I thought a ‘nest of vipers’ would look like,” Vanille mused. “Seems more like a paradise to me.”

“Dammit!” snapped Fang. “I can’t remember anything. You got any clue about our Focus?”

Their Focus had not changed, Vanille knew. If they were on Cocoon, it was for the same reason they had first been sent to war. Perhaps the initial attack had failed, or perhaps this had been part of Anima’s plan the whole time, to bring them inside to strike at Cocoon’s weaknesses.

I can’t do it, she thought, looking out at the peaceful beach full of innocent people. Children swam in the surf, and young couples walked on the shore and stole kisses in the sunlight, not unlike her and Fang. Not again. The very thought of more killing and more destruction tore at the depths of her soul, and if she had to watch Fang succumb to that monster’s unbridled rage again, she knew it would break her once and for all. “Nope,” she lied. “I can’t remember anything either.”

All Vanille wanted was to escape her fate, and it seemed as if they had been given a second chance. If Fang didn’t remember, perhaps that was a blessing in disguise. The two of them could just run away, sneak off into the paradise of Cocoon and leave their Focus behind in the past. Even if she turned Cie’th, she would do so with her last memories being of happy moments with Fang by her side. All she had to do was play dumb.

* * *

“Now this baby back here is a PSICOM vessel,” said Rygdea, gesturing to a scout ship as the four l’Cie strode onto the Lindblum’s flight deck. “It’ll quietly deliver you to the Palamecia while the Sanctum brass are busy watching the Lindblum.”

“Oh, so we’re cargo now?” Snow joked.

“A parting gift to our rotting government,” Rygdea confirmed. “Take those PSICOM guys apart for us!”

“We’re supposed to take on all of them?” asked Lightning. “I think the whole division is on board.” She wasn’t afraid of a fight, but even as l’Cie, there was only so much the four of them would be able to do against all of PSICOM.

“I don’t care how many lackeys they’ve got!” snapped Fang. “Bring ‘em on! Vanille’s in there!”

“I’m sure she’s fine, Fang,” said Hope. “Vanille’s tougher than I could ever be. She kept me going. When it first happened, I mean. When mom died, and then I was branded, and I thought I couldn’t go on. I never would have made it this far without her.”

“It’s who she is,” Fang said. “She felt your pain, and she couldn’t help but reach out. It’s why I love her.”

“Hope, are you scared?” Lightning asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m terrified. But I’ll be okay. My dad’s okay; another Cavalry unit got him out of the city. And besides that, I have you, Light. You, and Fang, and this guy,” he said, gesturing to Snow. “We’re all in this mess, and we’ve got to stick together.”

“Hey, what do you mean, ‘this guy?’” said Snow, a big grin on his face, and for the first time, Hope returned the smile.

“Guess I ended up fighting the Sanctum after all,” Hope realized. “But this is different. It’s not about revenge this time. It’s about family.”

“All right, enough with the bonding,” Rygdea announced. “It’s go time!”

TWENTY-SEVEN

“ID code verified,” came a voice from the console in front of Rygdea. “All clear. Welcome aboard.”

“About damn time,” muttered the captain. He had been nervously flying the stolen PSICOM scout ship in circles for ten minutes, well aware that if the crew of the Palamecia had suspected anything amiss, they’d have been shot down in an instant. The mighty flagship’s short-field landing deck had extended, however, and a holographic guideway appeared in the air as if inviting them in. “You guys ready to kick some ass?”

“Born ready,” said Fang, unbuckling her seatbelt and taking hold of her lance as the scout ship came to a stop. The moment the rear hatch opened, she leapt out to the deck below, and an alarm sounded.

“We’re here for Vanille and Sazh,” Lightning reminded the others as she, Hope, and Snow followed. “Stay focused.”

“Code Red!” announced a loudspeaker. “Attention all crew! Code Red! This is not a drill!”

“That’s my cue!” called Rygdea from the pilot’s seat. “We’ll be standing by to unleash hell when the time comes. For now, you go get that girl of yours!” He winked at Fang as the hatch closed, and the scout ship hurriedly undocked.

“You should hang back,” Hope said, noticing Snow still favoring his injuries. “Bring up the rear and let yourself finish healing.”

Snow started to complain, but the pain kicked his better judgment back into gear. “Will do.”

“Looks like they want to play,” Fang remarked as a security team leapt down from the corridor above, guns drawn. “Well?”

“This is your show, Fang,” said Lightning. “We’ve got your back!”

Fang charged into the enemy ranks as they opened fire, miring the flow of time around the soldiers and taking advantage of their slowed reflexes to knock several of them clear off the edge of the deck with her lance. Those who managed to dodge her blows, however, were quickly swept off their feet by Hope’s conjured tidal wave.

Behind him came Lightning and Snow, and a flurry of saber strikes and AMP-charged punches took down the survivors in seconds. “Which way?” Lightning called out.

“Up there!” said Fang, pointing at a catwalk two stories up. Since the moment Cid had announced his plan of attack, she had spent the entire time studying the Palamecia’s blueprints, planning for this moment. She leapt into the air with magically-enhanced athletic prowess, flipping onto one deck, then the next. “We cross the external berths, then enter the crew corridors from there. Less security. Come on, let’s go!”

The four of them scrambled onto the catwalk, dashing through a side corridor and out onto the external docks where small fighter jets would ordinarily be moored. “Whoa!” cried Hope as he stumbled to a halt. The walkways were narrow, the railings were few and far between, and the view below them was as much sky as it was ground. If we’re this high up, we must be well on the way to Eden already, he realized.

“Don’t go getting blown away now!” remarked Fang. “Not even a l’Cie could survive a fall from up here. Ahh, but feel that wind on your face!” Her adrenaline was certainly pumping, but it was excitement she felt, not fear. How many times have we soared through the skies of Gran Pulse on the backs of wyverns? she remembered. Like the legendary dragoons of old, she and Vanille had ridden the wind alongside the Nameless Immortal and the great fal’Cie Dahaka alike, and for the first time since waking up on Cocoon, Fang felt truly alive again.

* * *

“Attention all crew!” announced the loudspeaker in Sazh and Vanille’s cell. “Code Red! Code Red! Hostile forces on board. Security to full alert!”

“‘Hostile forces,’ huh?” remarked Sazh. “You don’t suppose it’s the others?”

“It could be Fang!” Vanille exclaimed, and for the first time in days, the smile that flickered across her face was genuine. “She promised she’d come find me. Maybe she finally has!”

They were interrupted by the cell door sliding open, and two PSICOM soldiers walked in. “Get up!” shouted one of them. “You’re being moved. On your feet, scum!” He reached down and roughly yanked Vanille off the bench.

“You too!” yelled the other one, pointing his gun in Sazh’s face.

She promised, huh? he thought. He wanted to resent Vanille for having someone like Fang in her life after all she had done to the rest of them, but seeing her smile again had made it almost worth it. Sazh grabbed the soldier’s gun out of his hand, tossing it aside and shoving them both into the wall.

No place left to run, indeed, thought Vanille. She despised killing, but she knew that so many more had died because she had tried to run away. Fang had warned her long ago that there were some fights you couldn’t run from, and she was beginning to understand what that meant. Picking up the gun, she aimed it at the soldiers, closing her eyes and squeezing the trigger. Their screams echoed in her mind, but if Fang was on board, there was only one way to make things right. She had to stop running, and tell her beloved the truth at last.

“All right,” said Sazh. “Time to split. Not run,” he clarified. “There’s a difference.”

“Gotcha,” she agreed. They darted out into the corridor beyond, retrieving her binding rod and Sazh’s custom Vega 42s from an evidence crate. 

“No other guards, huh?” Sazh noticed, remembering Colonel Nabaat’s last words to them when they had been captured. Something seemed fishy, but they weren’t likely to get this chance again.

“Do I…deserve to escape?” wondered Vanille.

“What, you’d rather die?” he retorted. “‘Cause that’s got to scare you. Scares me so much, I think I might die of fright. So I push myself to live even harder. Oh, man, I can just imagine Dajh laughing at me for talking about this nonsense.”

“Sazh, I…” she started to apologize again.

“Nah,” he interrupted. “It ain’t your fault some fal’Cie saw him as nothin’ but a tool. They saw you that way too, right? Fal’Cie don’t think like us. Come on, Vanille. Let’s go get rescued.”

She took a deep breath. “No,” she said. “Not this time.” She had long ago lost count of the number of times Fang had saved her life, and she worried as well what kind of trap Nabaat had planned. “I’m done running. For once in my life, I am going to save her!”

“Hah hah!” said Sazh with a smile. “All right, now you’re talking!”

“Code Purple!” crackled a voice on the loudspeaker. “Containment breach in secure sector! I repeat, Code Purple!”

“That would be us,” Sazh remarked as footsteps sounded down the corridor. “Let’s go!”

* * *

“Let us through!” shouted Snow as he peered around the corner from the flight deck into the Palamecia’s crew corridors. “We’ve come for our friends, and we don’t want to hurt anyone else, but if you block our way, you die!”

“Are you trying to get ‘em angry?” laughed Fang, joining him and seeing the security detail that had been mobilized to stop them. They hadn’t attacked yet, but the only way in was through them.

“Thought maybe they’d run,” Snow said, shrugging. “There’s been enough blood spilled.”

“You thought they’d run?” said Lightning, shaking her head. “Those soldiers think they’re protecting Cocoon from destruction at the hands of us l’Cie. The fal’Cie have them all brainwashed, and there’s gonna be a lot more blood spilled before this is over.”

“I have had it!” Snow yelled, slamming his fist into the bulkhead. “We cannot let this go on!”

“Sazh and Vanille are counting on us,” Hope reminded him. “We get them back, then we go take Dysley down, just like General Raines said. Sometimes even heroes have to have to do bad things in the name of good.”

An alarm sounded from the corridor as the Code Purple announcement echoed across the deck, and part of the security detail broke off as the sounds of gunfire could be heard in the distance.

“‘Containment breach?’” repeated Snow. “Could that be…”

“Vanille!” Fang realized, beaming with pride. “That’s my girl! Give ‘em hell!” She ran into the corridor, scattering foes with her lance. “Up here!” she called, jumping into the air and scrambling up a maintenance ladder.

“Go!” cried Lightning, laying down cover fire with the Blazefire Saber as Snow and Hope hurried up the ladder after her. She conjured a bolt of electricity as she followed, channeling it into the corridor’s metal deck and incapacitating their pursuers.

Fang climbed past several decks of crew barracks, finally throwing open a hatch that led to the airship’s top hull. “This way!” she called as soon as the others had joined her. 

“The wind,” noticed Hope as he ran to catch up. “It’s dying down.”

“Yeah, it’s stopping,” Lightning agreed. “We’re decelerating.” She scanned the sky nervously, but Eden was still a small blip in the distance. “They must be up to something.”

“Maybe they’re having engine trouble?” wondered Hope.

“I don’t suppose it could just be…I don’t know?” said Snow. “Good luck?”

“Doubtful, but I’ll take it anyway!” said Lightning, drawing her saber as an electrified wyvern soared in from above to attack them. “Heads up. Kalavinka-class, two AMP generators, probably fifty-thousand volt charge.”

“Uh, Light?” asked Fang. “How do you figure that makes us lucky?”

“Because when we kill it,” she reminded her, “we’ll be one step closer to Vanille. How’s that?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Fang smirked, sufficiently motivated. The creature swooped down over them, scorching the hull with bolts of electricity from the junction points on its wings, then rocketing back into the sky. “Hey! Tease us, will ya?”

“Come down here!” yelled Snow as it circled around for another dive.

“Stand back!” Hope called out, pulling out the Airwing and calling forth a gust of wind behind the beast, knocking it out of the air and sending it crashing to the deck in front of them. “Now’s our chance!”

The wyvern flapped its great wings once more, but it had been damaged enough that it couldn’t maintain more than a few feet of altitude. Its energy reserves were far from depleted, however, and an electrical charge began to gather around its mouth.

“Get behind me!” shouted Fang, holding up her spear like a lightning rod and filling her body with regenerative energy. A bolt struck her, knocking her back, but she held fast, jumping into the air and thrusting the lance into a power regulator that hung from the creature’s neck. The wyvern opened its mouth, arcs of electricity issuing forth in all directions as its systems overloaded, striking all four of them at once.

“Aah!” screamed Hope, desperately trying to keep them alive with healing magic as the beast crumpled to the surface of the ship’s hull, electrifying the entire floor they stood on.

“Fang!” called Vanille’s voice from behind them as she and Sazh climbed out of a maintenance hatch onto the hull. “No!” The wyvern was mortally wounded, but its implants had gone into overdrive as it flopped helplessly on the deck, and the other l’Cie would soon be electrocuted if it continued. She unfurled the binding rod, sweeping the air around the bioweapon into a cyclone powerful enough to lift it off the hull and cast it over the edge into the sky below.

“Vanille?” Fang cried out, catching her breath and picking herself off the floor. For the first time since that fateful day at Euride Gorge, their eyes met, and they ran to each other.

Their long-awaited embrace proved short-lived, however, as an icy voice all too familiar to Sazh and Vanille cut through the air. “Just as predicted, she couldn’t resist,” said Colonel Nabaat, clapping slowly as she strode out on deck. “Didn’t I say it would be her undoing?”

“Nabaat,” spat Sazh, drawing his guns and facing her.

“And Mr. Katzroy as well,” she added, smiling sadistically. “Now that the players are all here, it’s time to set the stage.” She dropped a small device to the deck, stepping on it and releasing an unusual AMP charge not even Lightning had seen before. Instantly, the six l’Cie fell to the floor, dropping their weapons reflexively and clutching at their brands in pain.

“No!” cried Vanille, clinging desperately to Fang. 

“What is this?” yelled Sazh.

“Just something I had the boys in the lab cook up,” explained Nabaat. “As I believe I told you back in Nautilus, the data we were able to gather with the help of your son Dajh truly was invaluable. This is a biofeedback generator created with that data, specifically calibrated to hyperstimulate l’Cie brands of Pulse origin. As you can see, its first field test is going exceedingly well.”

“Aaagh!” Sazh cried out, forcing himself to take hold of one of his guns once more. He fired several shots in Nabaat’s direction, but the pain was so intense he could not even aim.

“You…monster…” spat Vanille, all pretense of innocence gone from her face. Had the machine not been effective in quelling her magic, she would have shown Nabaat exactly what power the priests of Anima had chosen her for.

“Me?” she questioned. “A monster? Historical records indicate more than seven hundred thousand innocent lives were lost when Cocoon’s shell was cracked during the War of Transgression. It certainly is a pity you two lovebirds conveniently can’t seem to remember that part. Tell me, young lady. Who is the true monster here?”

“No!” Vanille screamed, bursting into tears as she instantly began reliving those final moments.

“Vanille!” cried Fang, cradling her as Nabaat strode toward them.

“Leave her alone!” Sazh growled, lifting his shaking hand up to his chest, plucking Brynhildr’s crystal from his brand and smashing it onto the deck. The Eidolon’s orb of fire appeared above his head, stuttering and flickering as Nabaat’s jamming field interfered with her summoning as well.

“Oh, we really should thank you for allowing us to observe as you tamed an Eidolon as well,” taunted Nabaat. “With what we have learned, Pulse l’Cie will never again have the power to threaten the Sanctum or the peace and stability they maintain on Cocoon.”

“You think?” roared Sazh. “Get it!” The chocobo chick suddenly darted out of his hair, streaking toward the device and pecking at it with enough force to generate sparks. The jamming field dropped instantaneously, and Brynhildr burst forth in a fiery shockwave that knocked Nabaat back.

“What the…?” Nabaat cried, pulling out a telescoping baton outfitted with a powerful manadrive, and quickly conjuring a shield as Sazh’s Eidolon swung her scythe in a mighty arc.

“You okay, Sazh?” asked Lightning, scrambling to her feet and picking up her saber.

“Oh, I’m just gettin’ started!” he yelled, firing off a barrage of bullets, then connecting his twin guns together to form a rifle that let loose a blast strong enough to shatter Nabaat’s shield. As soon as it fell, Brynhildr followed up with a high-caliber shell that exploded in her face. The PSICOM colonel simply flipped nimbly out of the way, however, twirling the baton in the air and drawing forth a flood of water that threatened to wash all six of the l’Cie over the edge.

“Not that easy!” Snow shouted, punching the deck with a supercooled fist and freezing the wave solid before it could reach them.

“Brynhildr!” called Sazh. “Put me behind the wheel!” The Eidolon took a running start, folding her mechanical body as she charged, forming once more into the fiery race car as Sazh jumped in. “This is for me,” he said, gunning the engine and drifting toward Nabaat at breakneck speed.

She rolled to the right at the last second, and Sazh spun around, the smell of rubber filling the air as burning tire tracks skidded across the hull. “This,” he continued, “is for Vanille!” He drove at her again, scattering exploding caltrops from behind him, forcing her to jump onto a metal catwalk above him and summon another shield. “And this one,” he said finally, gripping the gearshift and stepping on the throttle, “is for Dajh!” He spun Brynhildr across the deck, spewing forth massive jets of fire from her exhaust manifold that began to melt the catwalk’s support structure.

Nabaat screamed as her manadrive overloaded, her shield dropping as the catwalk began to collapse into the Eidolon’s inferno. She snapped her fingers, running for the edge of the deck and leaping off as a waiting velocycle rose to meet her. “This isn’t over!” she spat, twisting the throttle and rocketing off into the sky.

“Dammit!” panted Sazh, stepping back onto the deck as Brynhildr returned to a crystal inside his brand. “She’s gone.”

“You’ll get another chance,” said Vanille, standing up and helping Fang to her feet. “We’re all together now, and that changes everything.”

The four Cocoon-born l’Cie looked on as Vanille and Fang held each other in a tight embrace, myriad thoughts running through their minds. “What’s wrong?” asked Snow, noticing the particularly dark expression on Sazh’s face.

“Huh?” he replied, startled. “Oh, it’s nothing.” The two lovers had indeed set in motion the chain of events that had led to Dajh’s branding, but Sazh knew now it hadn’t truly been their fault. Serah too, he thought, realizing that if Snow and especially Lightning could forgive them, he could as well. 

From the beginning, they all now knew that everything Fang and Vanille had done had been for each other, gestures of love twisted and perverted by fal’Cie from Pulse and Cocoon alike until they had made a mockery of something beautiful. As powerful as they were, fal’Cie could never comprehend something as innately human as love, be it the love of a parent, a sister, a child, or a partner. Nor could they ever understand true family, the kind bound not by blood, but by shared experience and camaraderie in a hostile world.

“L’Cie to the last,” said Lightning, as she had the day they had first been branded, but this time, she was smiling.

Chapter Text

TWENTY-EIGHT

“Fang, there’s…something I need to tell you,” began Vanille, slowly pulling away from her partner. Of all the lies she had told since waking up on Cocoon, this would be the hardest by far to make amends for, and she was scared how Fang would react. 

“Vanille!” she cried, drawing the girl close once more and kissing her before she could finish. “I was worried sick about you.” She knelt down, anxiously lifting the corner of Vanille’s skirt to check her brand without the slightest concern for propriety.

“Umm…” said Vanille, blushing as she saw the others quickly try to turn away with embarrassment.

“Oh, let them stare,” declared Fang, sighing with intense relief as she saw the brand’s eye had yet to open. “You’ve still got time, and that’s what matters.”

“I need to…” she started once more.

“We’ll talk later, missy,” Fang reassured, stroking her hair. “We’re not quite done here yet. Got a little favor for a friend to return, first!”

“So, uh, what exactly is on the agenda?” asked Sazh.

“Toppling the Sanctum!” Snow announced with a smile.

“No, I mean really,” said Sazh. 

“He’s serious,” Lightning cut in. “We’re gonna take down the Sanctum, and give Cocoon back to the people. The fal’Cie have called the shots for long enough.”

“Yep,” added Fang. “Head honcho Dysley’s on board this very ship. We get him to ‘fess up about the Purge, and even people like that Nabaat won’t have a choice but to see the light!”

“We’ve got military backup,” said Hope nervously. “But they won’t strike until they know we’ve got Dysley in custody, and we’ve got ten more decks to fight our way through just to get close to the bridge. It’s gonna take a miracle to pull this off.”

“Well, good thing Lady Luck’s on our side!” said Fang with a smile, putting her arm around Vanille and pointing to another bioengineered wyvern that had begun circling down toward them. “Remember Taejin’s Tower?”

“How could I forget?” Vanille replied with a laugh, realizing what she had in mind.

“What, another one?” cried Sazh, noticing the creature swooping overhead. “This is starting to get old.”

“Check this out,” called Fang, running forward with Vanille close behind. “A miracle, Gran Pulse style! Vanille, go fish!”

“Got it!” Vanille unfurled the binding rod, fearlessly standing her ground as the bioweapon flew right at her. It spat a stream of electricity toward her, but she effortlessly dodged it and spun around in one fluid motion, casting the rod’s wires into the air as she had learned to do during Fang’s training long ago.

Perfectly spaced and tensioned for ensnaring such creatures, the wires snagged on four vital spots along the wyvern’s wingspan, stopping it mid-flight and pulling it back toward her. Fang leapt into the air, perching on the beast’s back and thrusting her spear into the cluster of nerves that was the weakness of all wyvern species, temporarily paralyzing it as it landed, just as she had been taught.

“That’s a good girl,” said Fang. “Come to Mama.” She gently patted the animal and loosened the spear ever so slightly, allowing it some range of motion back. Despite the Sanctum’s grotesque modifications, it was still a living creature, no matter how many coats of paint and army decals they slapped on it, and she had always been taught to honor her prey. “All right!” she called out.

“Let’s get on!” said Vanille, climbing on the wyvern’s back and motioning to the others to follow.

“Uhh…you sure about this?” grumbled Sazh as he reluctantly joined her.

“Must be how they get around on Pulse!” said Snow, hopping up.

“Well, it’s how Fang gets around!” giggled Vanille. “Ah hah!” she added, pointing as she once again noticed a small silver owl in the distance, this time perched on a catwalk above them. “Remember the ruins by the crystal lake? When we found the airship? Told ya those birds were a good omen!”

“So they are,” said Lightning, jumping on and reaching out to help Hope.

“Time to Purge a Primarch, people!” Snow declared.

“You got it!” shouted Fang, loosening the spear enough to allow the wyvern to take off once again. “Better hold on!”

“Aah!” Sazh screamed, his grip slipping as the beast’s muscular wings propelled them into the sky.

“Believe in Lady Luck now?” asked Fang.

“Yeah, Lady Bad Luck!” he retorted, clinging on for dear life.

“Grab my hand!” Vanille called, reaching out to pull him back on.

“Now this brings back memories!” said Fang, beaming with a wide grin as she used her lance like a rein, forcing the wyvern to circle around toward the Palamecia’s bridge. Gunfire erupted from the ship’s turrets, and she twisted the lance, causing the beast to reflexively spit thunderbolts that melted clean through the reinforced metal of its hull.

Memories, thought Vanille. What a simpler time that had been, when our biggest worry had been racing Dahaka through the sky on a grand treasure hunt, and the most we could have lost would have been our own lives. She reaffirmed her vow to tell Fang what she knew, as soon as they had a moment alone. If they stood together with their newfound family, maybe even fate itself could be changed.

“Jump!” yelled Lightning as the wyvern swooped close to the hole it had blasted. She snapped her fingers, and her gravity AMP sparked to life. She knew the device would instantly overload trying to stop the fall of six people, but they were l’Cie now, and terminal velocity wasn’t quite what it used to be. All they’d need would be a little cushion.

Fang pulled the spear out of the wyvern’s back, and she and Lightning leapt into the air without a thought. The creature roughly bucked the rest of them off, soaring into the sky on its own as its former passengers fell through the gap in the ship’s hull. The l’Cie tumbled hard onto the floor of the corridor within, blowing out the AMP’s circuits as it used all its power to generate enough resistance to keep their bones from snapping with the impact.

“Everyone okay?” asked Lightning, quickly pulling the shorted-out husk of the device from her pocket and tossing it aside as it caught fire. 

“Agh,” groaned Sazh, picking himself up and helping Hope to his feet. “Man, that kind of excitement ain’t good for the heart.”

“Bridge access,” Lightning announced, pointing to a security door at the end of the hallway. “Dysley’s right through there.”

“You all ready?” Snow asked. One by one, the others nodded in agreement. 

“We’re still going to have our talk,” reassured Fang, putting her hand on Vanille’s shoulder. “But let’s survive this first, yeah?”

“Right,” she agreed.

“Let’s get this guy!” exclaimed Snow, charging the AMP in his jacket to maximum and summoning a gauntlet of ice from his brand, slamming it full force into the door. His icebound fist punched a hole right through the thick steel, and he roared, prying the door completely off its track with brute strength enhanced by magic and technology alike.

Beyond, Primarch Dysley sat atop a throne, watching as the six l’Cie burst through the door. “Code Blue!” shouted a panicked crewman into his comm as he dived behind his station. “Critical security breach! Intruders on the bridge! I repeat, Code Blue!”

“Your Eminence!” cried Colonel Nabaat as she jumped out to confront them once more. “Please escape! I’ll cover your retreat!”

“So that’s where you got off to!” shouted Sazh, pulling his guns and leveling them at her.

“That will not be necessary, Jihl,” the Primarch said. “Code White.” The computers on the Palamecia’s bridge instantly froze, every monitor going blank and simply displaying the glyph of Lindzei that adorned the Sanctum’s flag. A force field materialized where the security door had been, trapping them inside, and the roof of the bridge slid back to reveal open sky.

“What the hell?” complained another of the crewmembers, frantically pressing buttons on her console. “Some kind of back door command?”

“No,” whispered Vanille, clinging in fear to Fang’s arm. “Something’s wrong.”

“What is it?” Fang asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s just wrong.” From Nabaat, she sensed anger and cruelty, and from the bridge crew, she sensed fear, but from Dysley, she simply felt nothing, and that terrified her. She looked up, and saw the silver owl once more, perched on top of a bulkhead, watching them. It’s the same one, she realized. What’s it doing here, though? Has it been watching us this whole time? 

“Your Eminence?” asked Nabaat, turning to face Dysley.

“Why don’t you leave,” he said, standing up. “Or rather, take your leave. This is not a matter for humans.”

“What?” she cried. “Your Eminence, I…”

Dysley raised the ornate staff he carried, and Nabaat stopped mid-sentence. In an instant, she and the entire bridge crew crumpled to the ground, dead. It was almost as if… As if their souls had been plucked right from their bodies, realized Vanille in horror. And still, she felt nothing at all from the Primarch, as if he wasn’t even there.

“Magic?” cried Sazh in shock. No matter how much he hated Nabaat, even he was appalled at how casually she had been struck down.

“So, Dysley is a l’Cie, after all,” muttered Lightning, shaking her head.

“You monster!” yelled Snow. “People are not yours to use!”

“What else does one do with tools?” replied Dysley, striding calmly toward them.

“No, no, this is all wrong!” Vanille shrieked, trying to grab Snow’s jacket as he roared in rage and lunged at Dysley. She lost her grip, and he charged at the Primarch only to be flung roughly backwards by a magical shield. 

“Snow!” called Hope, reaching to help him back to his feet.

Above them, the silver owl had taken wing, circling overhead, and a cold sweat came over Vanille as she knew now the mysterious bird was no omen of good luck. She had seen it first in Bodhum, when she and Fang had ventured into town thinking they would need to fight just to obtain food and supplies, but the townsfolk had seen them as only a curiosity. Then, she had seen it again at Euride, when PSICOM had set up a security checkpoint at the train station, and she had happened upon a lost ID card for another girl who looked just enough like her that she could convince the guards to let her return to Bodhum. 

It had appeared once more when they had all escaped Lake Bresha, and finally the last time just minutes ago before storming the bridge. It’s Dysley’s, Vanille realized. Some kind of mystical familiar? Has it been him watching us the whole time, since the moment Fang and I first emerged from the Vestige?

“Did you really never think to wonder why fal’Cie would go to such lengths to cater to humanity’s every need?” Dysley asked. “Food, water, air, power, down to the comforts of home and entertainment? Cocoon is a factory, built by fal’Cie, for the mass production of human thralls.”

“What?” cried Vanille. Thralls to do what? As a child, she had been taught Cocoon contained armies ready to lay waste to Gran Pulse in the name of the evil god Lindzei. And when she had awoken here, she had thought it a paradise, and had wondered if Lindzei was in fact a benevolent steward of humanity, and Pulse the true aggressor. Dysley’s words, however, spoke of a much more esoteric purpose, one in which there were no clear-cut sides.

“Not anymore, it’s not!” said Snow. He didn’t care if Dysley was a l’Cie, or how far the deception ran through the Sanctum government. He believed in Cid, and he believed in the people of Cocoon. Somehow, they would prevail, and expose this farce. They had to.

“What can mere men do?” Dysley asked. “In the end, death is all of which you are capable. You saw the fools. A mindless mob drunk on the fear of a few l’Cie.”

“If they only knew a l’Cie was the one filling their glasses!” spat Lightning, drawing her saber and stepping forth.

“L’Cie?” laughed Dysley. “You mean me? Oh, child, perish the thought.”

“No!” yelled Vanille, getting a closer look at the silver owl and finally figuring out why she couldn’t sense the Primarch’s emotions. She felt nothing from him because his body did not contain a soul, and the owl was no bird at all. Neither was it some kind of strange Eidolon or other arcane servant, she could see as it flew toward them. 

The owl was made of living metal, with pure magic coursing through its veins, and what Vanille had mistaken for the passing pleasant feeling accompanying a stroke of good luck was actually its own presence. Its soul, powerful enough to warp the very laws of probability. It’s a fal’Cie, she realized in horror, and Galenth Dysley was nothing but an empty vessel being controlled like a marionette.

“I am more than that!” Dysley announced, holding his staff up as the owl fluttered down to perch on the end of it. The bird’s mechanical body turned inside out, transforming in midair like that of an Eidolon and interlocking with the staff’s sculpted decoration. Together, the two halves formed the sigil of Lindzei, and Dysley’s body fainted dead away. Behind him, the throne itself began to transform next, metal plates rotating and flipping around as it reconfigured into an ornately-decorated machine that the staff floated up to meet.

“My name is Barthandelus,” it intoned in a mechanized version of Dysley’s voice, unfurling a pair of great metal hands that thudded to the deck, and revealing an enormous central face that grinned wickedly at the six l’Cie. “I speak with the Voice of Lindzei, and I am Lord-Sovereign of the Cocoon fal’Cie.”

“It can’t be…” whispered Snow, astonished. He had been prepared to face a branded servant of Eden, but Dysley had never been human to begin with, and he knew they were in trouble now. They may have succeeded in taking down Anima, but that fal’Cie had lain dormant for five centuries: it had been cut off from the surface of Pulse, operating on its own power reserves, and heavily damaged by a Sanctum air strike before they even got to it. Barthandelus, on the other hand, could freely draw upon the resources of all of Cocoon to snuff them out, and it was more than willing to incur collateral damage, as was attested by the dead bridge crew.

“Your kind feared the darkness,” Barthandelus continued. “So we gave you light. You begged us for the Purge, and did it not come to pass? Now you spurn our counsel? You must learn your place!”

TWENTY-NINE

On both sides of Barthandelus’s terrible metal face, pairs of blank, expressionless humanoid heads descended from its inner workings, suspended upside-down amidst the plates of its armor. Their mouths opened in unison, and they began to sing in distorted, twisted voices, joining together into a discordant melody that was all too familiar to the l’Cie: the same song that had echoed in their minds as they had seen the vision of Ragnarok.

“Aah!” cried Fang, stumbling back in pain. The others seemed unaffected, but inside her brain, the sound crashed against the impenetrable wall that blocked her lost memories. “My head!”

“Heh heh heh,” laughed Barthandelus. “Even the traitor’s seal can no longer stop what has been set in motion!”

“What?” she asked, clutching at her brand and falling to her knees as Vanille looked on in horror. “What…what traitor? What…the hell…are you…talking about?”

Barthandelus did not answer, however, and the singing heads mounted on its armor began to spit elemental magic at the l’Cie. “So Cocoon’s nothing to you?” Lightning yelled, jumping into the air to slash at one of the heads, but its thick metal skin did not even scratch, even as Snow, Sazh, and Hope tried desperately to weaken it with magic of their own.

“What can mere l’Cie do?” taunted Barthandelus, shrugging off everything Lightning and the others threw at it.

“Stop this!” screamed Vanille, drawing her staff as Fang lost consciousness. Now that the fal’Cie was at full power and no longer hiding inside the silver owl, its soul was a bright beacon that even normal humans could sense, and she knew that only made it more vulnerable to her.

Vanille had only ever wanted to use her empathic powers to help people, but she was wiser now. The infernal mechanical demigod that stood before her may have possessed a soul, but it had no heart. It had no concept of empathy, placed no value on human life, and whatever its plans for the citizens of Cocoon were, they stood to benefit only the fal’Cie. She knew now the best way she could help people would be to kill this monstrosity, no matter what it took, and she was finally ready.

She reached out into the ether, tugging at the strands of magic that made up Barthandelus’s soul just as Anima had known she would be able to, unraveling them slowly with the darkness that had built up over an entire lifetime of feeling everyone else’s pain. Tears welled up in her eyes as she did, the crushing weight of her memories nearly overwhelming her as she drew a terrible power from them.

Vanille screamed, collapsing to the floor next to Fang as her mind was momentarily lost in a flood of nightmarish imagery. “I…have…to…” she tried to say, attempting to stand back up. “Have to…fight… Have to stop…” Stop what again? she wondered, losing track of her surroundings as present and past blended together in her vision. The bridge of a ship? Then we must be on our way already. It’s not the Highwind, though; what strange ship is this? “Fang, you can’t…” she started to whisper, then blacked out.

“Vanille, Fang, stay behind me!” called Snow, running in front to guard them.

“Heh heh heh,” Barthandelus laughed again, but whatever Vanille had done had weakened the fal’Cie considerably, and Lightning’s blade could now cut through the being’s artificial skin.

“Now’s our chance!” shouted Lightning, plunging the Blazefire Saber right through one of the eerie singing heads, and throwing her weight onto the gunblade’s grip in an attempt to pry off the section of armor it was mounted to.

“Here!” said Sazh, channeling magical energy into her muscles the way he had when they had faced the rogue dreadnought back in the scrapyards of the Vile Peaks.

With Lightning’s strength enhanced by Sazh’s magic, the left half of Barthandelus’s armor finally came loose, faces and all crumbling into crystal dust as soon as they were separated from the rest of its mechanical body. In response, the fal’Cie reared up, channeling more magic into the remaining two singing heads to compensate.

“Didn’t like that, did ya?” said Sazh, unleashing a barrage of gunfire.

“Don’t let up!” Lightning shouted, trying and failing to remove the other piece of armor. “Hope! Try and melt it off!”

“Got it!” he said, conjuring an inferno around the singing heads, superheating and softening the armor.

“Snow, with me!” yelled Lightning, her blade finding purchase behind another blank metallic face.

“All right, how’s this?” Snow taunted, forming a spear of ice around his fist and thrusting it into the face beside the Blazefire Saber. A shockwave of frost spread out from the point of impact, turning the armor brittle as it instantly cooled, and together the two of them tore it loose from Barthandelus’s body. The terrible song finally ceased as the last of the singing heads shattered into crystal, and Fang and Vanille began to regain consciousness.

The fal’Cie merely laughed coldly in its inhuman voice, its central mechanical face opening up to reveal a set of laser cannons that scorched clothing and melted flesh as they fired. “Witness my power!” it called out, generating a gravitational anomaly that warped even the light itself, threatening to pull the six l’Cie inside.

“Watch out!” screamed Hope, summoning a gale-force wind to counter the gravity, and hurriedly trying to heal their wounds even as his own blood ran onto the floor. He lost his balance with the exertion, falling over and sliding toward the artificial singularity.

Vanille opened her eyes, the chaos of combat jarring her back to her senses as she saw the others struggling to survive Barthandelus’s onslaught. “Hope!” she called out. “Take my hand!” She reached out, grabbing hold of him just as he was about to be sucked inside the anomaly, and cast the wires from her binding rod out with her other hand, hooking them around a bridge console for stability. “You can do it!”

We’re not dying here! Hope vowed to himself, closing his eyes and picturing his mother’s face in his mind. This is the true Operation Nora, he realized. To stay alive, and be there for my new family. He threw the Airwing in an arc, sending forth a wave of healing energy across the entire room that not only mended their flesh, but strengthened their very souls against Barthandelus’s terrible magic.

The gravitational singularity swelled to a critical mass, but the will of the six l’Cie to resist it proved stronger, and it collapsed in on itself as they stood up to face Barthandelus once more.

“Cower before the might of a fal’Cie!” it called out, lowering its great face to the ground and lifting its metal hands as orbs of energy formed along its shoulders. A mechanical whirring noise could be heard as it began to shudder, drawing power from the Palamecia’s reactors in what seemed to be a last-ditch effort to eliminate them.

“This looks bad!” Snow shouted, steeling himself to take the brunt of the blast, but he wondered if even that would be enough. 

“No shit,” muttered Lightning. “Snow, get back! I have an idea!” She plucked Odin’s crystal from her brand, throwing it into the air and striking it with her saber. The Eidolon materialized in a shower of rose petals, covering them with his mighty shield and striking at Barthandelus with his double-ended sword. 

Even the fal’Cie could not help but grunt in pain as Odin’s blade carved into its steel face, the sound of its power charge stuttering under the assault. The energy orbs flickered, and Barthandelus released them before they had reached full power. Odin blocked the blast effortlessly, spinning his blade in the air and gouging into Barthandelus’s living metal skin.

“Lend me your blade!” said Lightning, and Odin jumped into the air, reconfiguring into his horse form. As soon as he had finished, Lightning hopped onto his back, taking his sword and separating it into twin blades. Odin galloped forth, leaping atop Barthandelus’s head, and Lightning twirled the blades in the air to generate a miniature storm above the fal’Cie. “This ends now!” she yelled.

Barthandelus bucked the mystical horse off, but Odin landed on all fours, and Lightning swept the blades in an arc, slicing clean through the fal’Cie’s skin into the crystal wiring underneath, right as the storm discharged its electricity and overloaded its circuits.

Lightning jumped down, letting Odin dissolve into energy and return to her brand as Barthandelus flopped unceremoniously to the deck, shattering into crystal shards just as the pieces of its armor had. “Everyone okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Hope, as the others nodded in agreement. “We…we really did it!”

“A talking fal’Cie, running the Sanctum,” muttered Snow, shaking his head.

“Then I guess it wasn’t Eden controlling things after all,” Hope added.

“Wait…” said Vanille, looking around nervously. Barthandelus no longer stood before them, but there had been no release of magical energy as there had been when they had killed Anima. The Primarch’s staff had fallen to the ground as the rest of the fal’Cie had crumbled, and she noticed its decorative tip once again only formed half of the glyph of Lindzei. Where’s the owl? she wondered.

As if to confirm her worst fears, the discarded body of Galenth Dysley stood up once more, picking up the staff and staring them down as if nothing had happened. “As I said,” he intoned, his voice human in timbre but alien in its coldness. “I am Lord-Sovereign.”

“Dammit!” said Sazh, pulling out his guns once more. “I guess fal’Cie don’t go down as easy as the rest of us.”

“Ease is not the issue,” warned Barthandelus. “You have not fought to win. You should know quite well already the sure way of dispatching our kind. Ragnarok.”

“No,” whispered Vanille, covering her mouth with her hands.

“What’s ‘Ragnarok?’” asked Fang, confused as the others all looked horrified. “Agh!” she cried, clutching at her brand and falling to her knees once more as it began to burn. Vanille looked over at her, holding back as she realized her time was up. Just like with Sazh, she had waited too long to tell the truth, and it was about to come out in the worst possible way.

“Pitiful l’Cie,” laughed Barthandelus, striding over to Fang. “You’ve forgotten your Focus. Ragnarok is the beast one of you must become in order to lay waste to Cocoon!”

“Please, no,” Vanille whispered silently, trying to block the words out. Not like this, not again!

“But you are no longer necessary,” the fal’Cie continued, turning to face the others. “You have all had the dream now. One among you will become that monstrosity, defeat Orphan, and destroy Cocoon!”

“What’s ‘Orphan?’” asked Lightning.

“The font of Eden’s power,” explained Barthandelus. “Orphan fuels Eden with strength, and Eden in turn sustains you, and the rest of our kind. Destroy Orphan, and you will release a force such as this world has never seen. Cocoon will be torn asunder!”

“So if I did that…” said Fang, realizing the meaning of what he was saying and forcing herself to stand. “If I destroyed Orphan…”

“Your Focus would be fulfilled, Oerba Yun Fang,” Barthandelus confirmed, looking right into her eyes. 

“No!” screamed Vanille, grabbing at her arm. “You can’t!”

“Who says it has to be?” Lightning shouted, slashing at Dysley’s puppet body only for him to teleport out of the way at the last second.

“Serah asked us to save Cocoon before she turned to crystal!” said Snow, holding up her crystal tear. “Save it! And that’s what we’re gonna do! Serah was trying to tell us how to complete our Focus!”

Barthandelus only laughed in Snow’s face, walking up to him next. “Allow me to help you see the truth of things, Snow Villiers. The moment you arrived, your love wept crystal tears. This was because her Focus required that you all be brought together. That girl did nothing but assemble the tools for Cocoon’s destruction.”

“No…” whispered Snow, stumbling backwards and clutching the crystal in his hand. All this time, he had forged ahead with the conviction that he was carrying on in Serah’s footsteps, that she had wept tears of joy upon seeing him and Lightning ready to band together and save Cocoon. His heart shattered as he realized that he had been clinging to false hope the whole time, that Barthandelus’s explanation made perfect logical sense. Serah had cried in anguish, knowing that the only way he and Lightning could save Cocoon would be to die as Cie’th.

“Did it never occur to you?” continued Barthandelus. “Or did you simply refuse to countenance the thought? If you will not face the truth, then face the peril of your plight!”

An alarm sounded throughout the bridge, and the ship’s monitors lit up with a countdown of red numbers. “Self-destruct in one minute,” came a calm computer voice from the overhead speakers.

“What?” screamed Hope, looking around in terror. A force field still blocked the exit, and although the bridge had been opened to the air, he could see no way for them to escape with that little time.

“Strike force to Rygdea! Requesting immediate extraction!” shouted Lightning into her army-issue phone, but the signal was being jammed.

“Heh heh heh,” laughed Barthandelus, holding up his staff as the silver owl swooped in from outside. “You wish to run, l’Cie? Then run! See how stark reality is!” The owl hovered above them, transforming its body and growing impossibly large as it reformed into an unmarked scout ship exactly like the one they had found waiting at Lake Bresha. Dysley’s body vanished into thin air, and the ship’s hatch opened on its own.

“Dammit, he’s been playing us all the way!” realized Sazh.

“Self-destruct in thirty seconds,” the computer announced.

“We don’t have a choice!” Lightning shouted, scrambling aboard the ship. “Come on!”

“What, on Dysley’s ship?” asked Snow, staring into Serah’s crystal tear and shaking his head, even as the others followed. 

“Self-destruct in fifteen seconds.”

“You rather die?” Lightning asked, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him on board.

“Everybody strap in!” cried Sazh, slamming his hand on the button to close the hatch and gunning the throttle before it had even finished. Explosions rocked the Palamecia as the scout ship rocketed away at the last second, and Sazh cursed to himself as he realized the controls were not responding to his input. “This is bad! The yoke’s jammed!”

“I knew it was a trap!” said Snow.

“Something’s coming!” shouted Hope, noticing a warning light on the radar screen.

A flying biomechanoid streaked into view, larger and more complex than any they had seen before, armed with its own fleet of attack drones and outfitted with a small cockpit for a pilot to control it directly. “Not so fast, l’Cie!” came a familiar voice over the radio.

“Is that Rosch?” yelled Fang.

“Guess he survived Palumpolum after all,” Lightning muttered in acknowledgment. The creature launched its drones at them, surrounding the scout ship in an fiery blast that should have destroyed them instantly.

“Huh?” said Sazh, as the smoke cleared and revealed an energy shield around them, far more powerful than even Sanctum technology should have been able to generate on such a small vessel. “What the hell kind of ship is this? Fighting on its own?” He took his hands off the yoke, pounding the console in frustration as the ship spun around and returned fire autonomously.

Bullets pelted the biomechanoid, disrupting its stabilizers and forcing it to pull back and regroup. “Clever, aren’t you,” came Rosch’s voice from the radio. “It won’t be enough, though!” The drones returned to its side, charging up for another blast, then shot forth once more.

“Can’t we do something?” cried Hope, as the city of Eden began to loom large in the windows ahead of them.

“Got me!” Sazh shouted, pulling on the yoke with all his might to no avail. “I give up!” The energy shield protecting Cocoon’s capital city spread out before them, and he knew they would crash into it within seconds, but Dysley’s ship had a mind of its own.

Just as they were about to slam full force into Eden’s shield, however, a gateway appeared and allowed them through. It closed instantly behind them, leaving Rosch’s flying biomechanoid with no choice but to break off at the last second.

“We got away?” asked Vanille as their flight leveled off and they soared quietly over the gleaming towers and domes of the city.

“Wasn’t me,” said Sazh. “I ain’t in control of this thing!” They were dropping altitude, closing in at high speed on the crowded streets below, and just as it seemed like they were about to crash into a busy expressway, the entire ship simply phased right through the ground, slowing to a stop and becoming tangible once more inside a strange room barely large enough to house it. “Guess we’re here,” he muttered as the consoles blanked out and the engine shut down. “Wherever the hell here is.”

THIRTY

“What is this place?” asked Lightning as the six of them stepped out of the scout ship. She checked the phone to see if she could contact Cid’s fleet from here, but the signal was still jammed. They stood in what looked like a subway station, but the architecture did not match the metro system of Eden, or indeed any city on Cocoon.

“Looks like a piece of Pulse,” said Vanille, looking around. Beyond that, however, she was as clueless as the rest of them; a sign in Pulsian script adorned the wall, but it stated only a sector and level number, with no identifying information.

“Pulse?” asked Sazh. As far as he could tell from the way they had landed, they were deep inside the floating support structure of the capital city. “What, you mean like the Bodhum Vestige? Never heard of something like that inside Eden itself.”

“Seems so,” said Fang. “But what I don’t understand, is that after the Purge, and all that l’Cie paranoia, why keep a chunk of Pulse under the floorboards?”

“So this is what the Primarch wanted us to see?” Hope mused.

“Well, something sure wanted us to,” said Sazh. “That ship was dead set on takin’ us here. And even if there was a way to fly it out again, the engine won’t start back up.”

“A place for l’Cie to accept their fate,” muttered Lightning. “Conveniently located right under Eden.”

“Do you really think our Focus is what Dysley said it is?” asked Hope.

“You mean become Ragnarok?” said Vanille pensively. I can’t let it happen, she swore to herself. All those people, and the soul of one of us besides…

“Yeah, that,” said Sazh. “Destroy the fal’Cie Eden, and shatter Cocoon. That’s what the vision was telling us, more or less.” He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. “So, we’re back to square one. Out of luck.”

Vanille looked around at the others. Of all of them, Snow had been hit the hardest by Barthandelus’s revelations, and she was worried his spirit had finally broken. It pained her to feel such anguish coming from the man who had been irrepressible from the beginning. Unlike her mask of forced optimism, Snow had genuinely believed things would really be okay in the end, that if they fulfilled Serah’s wish to save Cocoon, that would somehow count as their Focus. Now, he simply stared at the floor, holding Serah’s tear in his hand without a word.

“Mr. Hero?” Vanille called to him with a smile. “Cocoon calling Snow!” He didn’t even acknowledge her presence however, lost in a world of his own dark thoughts.

“It’s almost like Dysley wants it to come true,” said Hope.

“Seems that way,” Sazh agreed. “He sure didn’t mind explaining it. ‘Here’s your Focus on a silver platter!’”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” said Vanille. “I don’t get it. Why would a Cocoon fal’Cie want to destroy Cocoon?” If Barthandelus had spoken the truth, then what was it all for? What had she and Fang been for? All the things they had been put through, the atrocities they had been made to commit, all for what? 

“Maybe it’s a fal’Cie thing?” proposed Hope. “You know what I mean? Some grand design we just don’t understand.”

“Could that really be it?” Vanille wondered, shuddering as she remembered the horrors of the war. Was it all just some cosmic game the fal’Cie were playing, with our lives as the pieces?

“Hey, Snow!” shouted Fang. “Nothing from you?” If anyone was going to have a fantastical alternate explanation where they’d all get a happy ending, she knew he would, but he remained nearly catatonic. Dammit, she thought. She had no desire to destroy Cocoon anymore, but if it was really the only way to save Vanille from becoming a Cie’th… She sighed, trying to push the thought out of her mind.

“Oh, don’t believe everything a fal’Cie says,” said Vanille. “He’s telling us our Focus is to destroy Cocoon, but who knows? He could be lying to trick us into helping him do something else! We should listen to Serah, not some fal’Cie.” They had indeed all seen Ragnarok, but the vision had been hazy and incomplete, and she still didn’t understand what Barthandelus was after.

“So then what?” asked Sazh.

“Well, Raines should be off fighting the Sanctum by now,” said Hope. “We should get out of here and join up with him! Although…what if rushing straight into the middle of the fight is just what Dysley wants us to do?”

“Well, we can’t do anything from in here,” said Lightning. “Snow! You coming or not?”

“Hey, uh, I’ve got to apologize,” Snow finally said. “It… Well, it looks like I was wrong.”

“About Serah’s Focus?” Lightning asked, turning to face him. “Hm. It’s not like you to second-guess yourself.”

Snow shook his head, turning the crystal tear over and over in his hands. “Well, even heroes make mistakes,” he admitted, sitting down on the edge of the station platform.

“What about your plan to protect Cocoon?” she reminded him. “Either way, your faith in Serah was strong. That faith got you this far.”

“It was all wrong!” he retorted.

“Yeah,” agreed Lightning. “You tried so hard to convince the rest of us that you even fooled yourself! You’ve been a total idiot.”

“This is supposed to make me feel better, Light?” he snorted.

“What I mean to say is that even though it was wrong, it…” she started to say. “It still saved me. You trusted Serah. Even when I didn’t. Let that faith drive you, Snow. It even made me want to believe.”

Made her want to believe, huh? he thought, holding the tear up to the light. “Serah,” he said aloud. “Talk to me, baby. Give me something.” He could almost see her face looking back at him from the crystal’s infinitely complex facets, smiling as if to tell him she still believed in him as well. It will have to be enough for now, he realized, and stood up once more.

Lightning climbed the steps out of the strange subway, the others not far behind. At the top, a massive atrium spread out inside a towering structure, built of bare concrete and decorated in a spare Pulsian style, in sharp contrast to the curvilinear architecture and polished glass of Eden above.

“I can’t believe we’re still in Cocoon,” said Hope in awe.

“Neither can I,” admitted Vanille. The closest thing she had ever seen to this had been the city of Haeri, when she and Fang had stayed there while searching Gran Pulse for lost legends. But Haeri had been a bustling town full of people and sunlight, not an eerie sealed-off fortress devoid of life.

“It’s kind of creepy,” agreed Sazh, looking around.

“This place…” Vanille started to say, turning to Fang. “It must be an Ark!”

“You might be right,” she agreed, the slightest tinge of excitement creeping into her voice despite the situation.

“An ‘Ark?’” asked Lightning.

“That’s what they called ‘em,” said Fang.

“There’s a legend,” Vanille explained. “That long ago, the fal’Cie who made their home on Gran Pulse were afraid of invasion from the outside. As part of their battle preparations, they created an army of living weapons, and they stored those weapons in Arks, hidden all over the world.”

“Everyone on Gran Pulse heard those stories growing up,” Fang added. 

“So, this is basically a Pulse armory?” asked Lightning. “Directly underneath Eden.”

“Mmhmm,” Fang confirmed. “Most people never really believed in them. A few tried searching, though, including Vanille and me. But we never found a thing. Who’d have thought to look on Cocoon?”

“Right under our noses,” muttered Sazh. “That’s some secret they kept.”

“The story’s not done,” Vanille interrupted. “There’s more.”

“Oh, yeah,” continued Fang, her excitement turning to bitter sarcasm. “They also used to say the Arks were really meant for a more practical purpose. To force l’Cie to master their shiny new powers.”

“Okay, so, what?” said Lightning. “Dysley sent us here to forge us into stronger weapons?”

“Not Cie’th, but monsters all the same?” asked Sazh.

“So it’s a dungeon to grind and level up in,” said Hope, his face determined. “Think of it as training for the fight ahead!” he added, noticing the video game metaphor had fallen flat on everyone but Snow.

“Hope’s right,” said Vanille. “If we get stronger, maybe we can take down Barthandelus for real!”

As they wandered in, the floor lit up with the sigil of Pulse, recognizing them as l’Cie and proving Fang’s explanation of the Arks’ true purpose to be correct. Their brands burned with crystal fire, and all around them, strange pod-like structures began to burst open with a sound of rushing steam.

“What the…?” Sazh started to ask, as a small army of Pulsework robots stepped forth, marching toward them. Unlike the rusty, barely-functioning specimens that had been left behind in the Vile Peaks, these mechanical soldiers were constructed of burnished steel, and had been lying in wait for untold centuries just for this moment.

“Training, huh?” said Lightning, drawing her saber. “Let’s go!”

* * *

For nearly an entire day, the six l’Cie had no choice but to fight their way through the twisting pathways of the Ark. The ruins of an entire city seemed to stretch out within, populated only by robots, warmechs, and ferocious beasts that had been held in stasis until the moment they arrived. If people had ever lived here, there remained no evidence as behemoths stalked the subway tunnels and demonic humanoid birds prowled the streets.

“If all these things escaped…” mused Lightning as they turned a corner into a hangar lined with metal monstrosities worse even than the dreadnought they had faced in the Vile Peaks. “I don’t even want to think about what would happen to Cocoon.”

“You suppose the Sanctum guys know about this place?” asked Sazh. “Are they planning to start a war?”

“Or finish one,” added Vanille solemnly.

“It doesn’t matter whether they know,” warned Lightning. “The fal’Cie do.”

“There’s got to be some way out of this gods-damned place!” Sazh growled as the corridor they had taken opened up onto a balcony, overlooking the ruins from a high vantage point. Buildings and streets lay below, but a towering metal ceiling blocked out any hint of the sky.

“If the stories are right, it’s a maze,” said Vanille.

“This place is a boot camp for l’Cie!” Fang reminded him. “All kinds of challenges from Gran Pulse are waiting.”

“Challenges, huh,” he muttered. “To get us all ready to go wipe out Cocoon?”

“We can wait here if turning Cie’th sounds better,” snarked Fang.

“I have had enough of this!” Sazh yelled. “Wait…who…?” he started to add, noticing the first human figure they had seen since leaving the Palamecia.

“Raines?” asked Snow as Cid came into view.

“What?” Fang remarked, glowering at the general.

“Easy, guys,” Snow added, noticing Sazh and Vanille’s trepidation. “It’s all right. Raines is a Sanctum officer who’s been helping us out—”

“Uh-uh,” interrupted Fang, holding her arm out to stop the others from approaching. “Why are you here?”

“He’s hiding something,” said Vanille. “I can sense it.”

“Raines!” yelled Lightning, drawing the Blazefire Saber. “You traitor!” She ran at him, slashing back and forth as he effortlessly parried her every blow with only a small gauntlet. He grabbed her by the hand, throwing her to the floor and ripping the saber from her grasp.

“I kept you on the path,” announced Cid, turning the saber on the rest of them. His gauntlet folded up, and clearly visible on his wrist was a brand of Lindzei. “That was my Focus.”

“You’re a l’Cie?” spat Fang.

“Since long before we met,” he admitted. “I did my best to assist you, as bid by the Sanctum fal’Cie. Now do you understand?”

“They really are working together,” whispered Vanille in horror.

“The fal’Cie of Cocoon have watched over you,” he explained. “They have guided your every step, since the moment the original two of you awoke. The ‘luck’ that has saved all of you time and again was a deliberate machination.”

“You played us!” Fang screamed, taking hold of her lance. “You used me. You used them! And you used Vanille to get to me!”

“I can offer no apologies for my actions,” said Cid. “Only to say that I have been used as well, by the fal’Cie.”

“I trust you remember what I said I’d do to you if you ever crossed me, Raines,” warned Fang. 

“I do,” he said. “I only ask that before you pass judgment, you hear me out.”

“Why should I trust anything you say?” she retorted, livid. “You’ve been lying to me since the very beginning! I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

THIRTY-ONE

Fang thrust her spear into the gap between the Euride Visitor Center’s emergency exit doors, throwing her weight against it to pry them open. Another alarm went off as she dashed outside, sprinting between a row of palm trees into the parking lot.

“There she is!” came a shout, as another group of security guards came running at her.

No, not security guards, she realized. They’re sending in the army now. The three men wore full armor, and carried assault rifles instead of tasers and batons. “Guess I made a bit of a scene,” she mused aloud. “At least this’ll be a challenge!” She scrambled atop a car, leaping into the air and landing between them, deftly spinning the lance and landing a vicious uppercut directly into one soldier’s face before he could even react.

The other two leveled their guns at her and opened fire, and she simply twirled around as if to dance between the bullets, knocking both of them off their feet with the lance before impaling one man and stepping on the other’s neck with her full weight. “Vanille!” she called out desperately, taking off between the rows of cars once more.

Fang may have been fearless in battle, but she worried deeply for her partner as military airships began to circle overhead. The girl was nowhere to be found as she peered around a corner at the power plant’s main entrance. The crowds of tourists and school groups had dispersed in the chaos, and the army was setting up a command post right in front of the door.

She ducked into the shadows, slipping silently behind the assembled soldiers and hurrying toward the Aerorail station. She hoped Vanille would have either waited there, or caught a train back to Bodhum to lay low if the army had caught her scent.

“Dammit!” she yelled as she got close to the station. The military had blockaded the entrance, and were screening every passenger who entered. That means the road is probably blocked too. There were very few ways in and out of the steep canyon, and if Vanille hadn’t escaped yet, they could very well both be trapped. We can fight our way through and commandeer a train, she reminded herself. I just have to find her first.

“Freeze!” yelled a gruff voice from behind her, and a quick glance told her an entire squad of soldiers had found her.

She was not the type to run from a fight, but Vanille needed her, and every moment she wasted on them was one more the army had to track her down. She darted into an alley, knocking a stack of trash cans over to slow down pursuit, and ran into a maintenance yard.

The soldiers did not seem to have caught up, but her instincts told her she was not alone. She looked carefully between the forest of traffic cones, the fleet of silent backhoes and bulldozers, and the gaggle of inactive worker droids on their charging docks, gripping her lance, but she saw only a small silver owl perched on a rooftop.

“Oerba Yun Fang, I presume?” came a voice as a lone man finally stepped into view, holding up his hands in supplication. “Stand down. I am not your enemy.”

“How the hell do you know my name, viper?” she spat. The man seemed to be unarmed, and no one else was visible, but he wore the uniform of a military commander.

“PSICOM has this entire facility surrounded,” he said, ignoring her question. “You will not be able to escape them alone.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” declared Fang. “And your last mistake will be thinking I’m scared of you and your goons.”

“As I told you, I am not your enemy,” he repeated. “My name is Brigadier General Cid Raines, and I command the Guardian Corps’s Cavalry Brigade.”

“I don’t care if you command a herd of domesticated adamantoises!” Fang snarked. “You make one wrong move, and you die.”

“My brigade is charged with protecting the people of Cocoon,” he explained. “No more, and no less. The troops you have been fighting, however, belong to PSICOM, and they will stop at nothing to eliminate any threat from the world below. We have been monitoring them, and we believe they are planning something unconscionable. We would like your help to stop them.”

“My help? You know who I am. What I am. Why would I ever help you, viper?”

“You did not come to Euride alone,” he stated.

“If you hurt her…” seethed Fang.

“Your companion is not in custody,” reassured Cid. “Ours, or PSICOM’s. We believe she managed to slip through a checkpoint using a stolen ID card. If you help us, we can in turn help you. I can walk you out of here without so much as a second glance, and the resources of my entire brigade will be at your disposal to help you find her. All you have to do is stand down, and agree to help me stop what might turn into a massacre of innocent civilians.”

Slowly and hesitantly, Fang lowered and folded the lance. “If you are lying to me, I will murder you,” she announced. “I will remove your head, and mount it on my spear in front of your entire brigade. And if you so much as touch Vanille, well, then you might have to answer to her. And trust me when I say that there are fates worse than a quick death.”

* * *

“It is true, I was deceiving you that day,” said Cid. “The Primarch, or should I say, Barthandelus, required you all to be brought together. To craft you into the instruments of Cocoon’s demise.”

“Is that why you allowed the Purge to happen as well?” spat Fang. 

“What?” yelled Snow. “He could have stopped them?”

“He said they had not had ‘sufficient warning’ to intervene,” she explained. “That was chocobo shite, wasn’t it?”

“Barthandelus initiated the Purge to test candidates,” Cid admitted. “To find those with sufficient resolve to stay the course.”

“To find a fresh batch of l’Cie to attack Cocoon, you mean,” muttered Lightning. “And you just let it happen?”

“Because we failed,” Vanille moaned. “Because I…”

“A Cocoon fal’Cie?” asked Sazh before she could finish. “Why?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t make any sense!” agreed Fang. “If your fal’Cie wanted this all along, then what the hell kinda cockamamie plan required them to build a human farm in the sky in the first place, just to have us smash it?”

“Their plan is nothing less than to restore the Maker,” answered Cid. 

“The ‘Maker?’” Hope asked, looking at the others. Even Fang and Vanille looked confused, however.

“Bhunivelze,” he clarified. “The entity responsible for creating both humans and the first fal’Cie, and the progenitor of Pulse and Lindzei alike. Long ago, the gods departed this world, leaving the two races behind. In a sense, human and fal’Cie are brothers, orphaned by the same parent.”

“That’s quite a stretch,” Fang muttered. “I still don’t get where we fit in, though.”

“In the absence of the gods, humankind forgot the order imposed by the Maker,” continued Cid. “They began to war amongst themselves for the first time in history. The fal’Cie, left without instructions, focused on recalling their lost deity, and returning the world to its former glory. This purpose lies at the heart of all their actions. On the world below, the fal’Cie of Pulse toil incessantly to find a way to reach the Maker’s realm. Those who created Cocoon chose a different path, however. To summon their god back with a fitting sacrifice.”

“A sacrifice…as in the destruction of a whole world,” realized Lightning in horror.

“The lives of Cocoon’s entire populace,” he confirmed. “Offered in bloody tribute to Almighty Bhunivelze.” Having said his piece, Cid tossed the Blazefire Saber back to Lightning, standing before them unarmed once more.

“No,” Sazh mumbled. “That’s crazy talk. It’s gotta be.”

“I still don’t get it,” said Hope. “Why do they need us? Couldn’t the fal’Cie end Cocoon with just a thought?”

“Created as servants of the gods, fal’Cie are powerful, yet limited beings,” answered Cid. “They cannot act against their programming, and those who built Cocoon are bound to the creation and maintenance of this floating shell. Their Focus, if you will. It is their very nature that has held them in check for so long.”

“So…Cocoon fal’Cie can’t destroy Cocoon,” Hope realized. “They needed tools.”

“Precisely. And so they turned to their brother fal’Cie of Pulse, upon which there were no such restrictions, to fashion those tools. L’Cie, branded by Pulse with a Focus of destruction, yet guided by Barthandelus himself.”

“If we can stop this by doing nothing…” Vanille started to say, steeling herself and taking a deep breath. She had been prepared to become a Cie’th before, but now she knew Fang would have to watch, and her resolve nearly faltered. “Then we’ll do nothing.”

“Vanille!” Fang called out, reaching for her.

“Noble,” agreed the general. “I expected as much.”

“You lied to us, Cid,” seethed Snow. “What happened to your dream of ‘rebuilding Cocoon for the people?’ Was it all a lie?”

“A shadow of a dream from when I was human,” he admitted. “As I said, I do not expect to be forgiven. It was change I craved, all those years ago, and once I’d built the influence to make things happen, there was change.”

“Not enough,” said Lightning. “You betrayed everything you said you stood for.”

“Because I gained all the power I could hope for, but was made a puppet with no will to wield it,” he responded, holding up his branded arm. “It wasn’t the Sanctum or the fal’Cie who changed, Sergeant Farron. It was me.” 

“So you…rose to power, but were made a l’Cie because of it?” asked Vanille.

“By Barthandelus himself,” said Cid. “A l’Cie, tied to an inescapable Focus. A slave of destiny. I’d lost hope. I’d all but given up on my former dreams of freedom.”

“What are you saying?” Sazh interjected. 

“I am here of my own accord,” he admitted. “Not by fal’Cie order. Seeing you fight for what you believed in brought it all back. Brought back that hope, for the future I once strove for. I, too, have decided to challenge my fate.” Cid raised his arm into the sky, his brand of Lindzei progressing to its final stage before their eyes as magic flowed through his body. He snapped his fingers, and a crystal barrier formed around them all.

“What?” cried Hope, stumbling back.

“Easy, guys,” said Lightning, raising the saber again.

“If I can defeat you here, the fal’Cie plan will fail!” he announced, struggling to contain the magic within.

“Raines!” snapped Fang. “What the hell?”

“I will use all my remaining power!” screamed Cid, a shockwave of energy emanating forth as his skin began to crystallize, his branded arm growing to inhuman proportions and his body turning to a grotesque living statue as it burst out of his uniform.

“By the gods, is he…” Vanille started to say.

“Half Cie’th, half…something else entirely,” Fang muttered, shaking her head at what had become of the man she had once held a grudging respect for. “Gone mad is what he is! Stay back, Vanille!”

“I will set you free!” he declared, lunging at Fang with his crystalline fist. She held up her spear to parry his blow, gouging the blade into his mutated body. Even she had to admit there was a certain nobility to what he was doing, as even if he succeeded, he would likely lose control of this hybrid form and turn full Cie’th as soon as he managed to defeat them. No matter his reason, however, she wasn’t about to let him kill Vanille, not while she still had time.

“After all the lies, now you want to help by trying to kill us?” yelled Lightning, charging her blade with electricity and slashing at his crystal arm as he scattered spheres of gravity amidst them all.

“Look out!” cried Hope, dodging the spheres and hurriedly shielding them all. He closed his eyes, recalling how he had boosted his friends’ will to resist Barthandelus’s magic, filling the Airwing with energy and throwing it in a circle once more. 

Snow jumped forward, conjuring gauntlets of ice and pummeling Cid relentlessly to little effect. His blows cracked the former general’s crystallized carapace, but he simply let healing magic flow from his own brand and fill in the wounds as quickly as they were dealt.

“This isn’t good!” said Sazh, pelting him with bullets only to watch him regenerate in moments.

“Let me help!” Vanille insisted, pulling Fang out of the way.

“Are you sure?” she asked in concern, realizing what her beloved intended to do. “He’s still…”

“Human, I know. A former friend, besides. But he’s going to kill us, and I know you don’t want that.” Vanille held the binding rod in front of her, letting the darkness break through once again. Cid’s skin had turned to hard crystal, but it began to crumble with forced age. His body was powered by magic now, but he still possessed internal organs, and they began to fail as his own blood turned toxic. And as with Barthandelus, his very soul began to fray, leaving him weakened and vulnerable.

“Aah!” Vanille screamed, disjointed images and overwhelming emotions coming over her in a wave that left her disoriented.

“I’ve got you!” Fang called, taking the girl in her arms and sheltering her. “Gods damn you, Raines!” Cid was no longer able to regenerate at will, but she could see what a terrible toll it had taken on Vanille. This was the second time Fang had seen her use her empathic powers to cause harm, and each time she could swear the beautiful light in Vanille’s eyes had grown dimmer.

“I will not yield!” yelled Cid, staggering as his vision swam and he began to grow dizzy. “My will is my own!” He bent forward in pain as his magic ripped through his own body, and eight wings of living crystal erupted from his back. Rays of pure light seared across the battlefield from each one as he floated into the air, threatening to vaporize Snow and Lightning nearest him, and they were saved only by the additional metaphysical resilience Hope had granted them.

“Snow! Light!” cried Hope, flooding them with healing energy as they tumbled to the floor. Waves of Cid’s barely-controlled magic swept across them all, twisting the laws of gravity, time, and biology in unpredictable ways and threatening to destabilize even their molecular cohesion.

“Enough, Raines!” screamed Snow, pulling Shiva’s crystal out of his brand and smashing it on the concrete. The Eidolon’s sphere of ice knocked Cid back as it burst forth, and the twin sisters momentarily froze him to the ground as they emerged, surrounding the six l’Cie with a pocket of stability that countered his reality-warping magic.

Snow stood up, his hands freezing solid and his fingers forming deadly icicles, and he grabbed hold of Cid, suplexing him to the floor and then kicking him nearly two stories into the air. “I’m not letting you drag us down with you!” he declared, leaping up to land a flurry of midair punches as the Shiva sisters conjured a blizzard around him. He climbed on top of Cid, slamming his frozen body into the floor at terminal velocity. 

“Now!” Snow cried, jumping back as the sisters joined together into their motorcycle form underneath him. Cid struggled to stand, the wings on his back beginning to glow once more with a terrible light, and Snow rode toward him at top speed, turning the handlebars at the last second and spinning the bike into a drift as he ran him down. “It’s over, Raines!”

Cid looked up at Snow, an inscrutable expression on his face. “My will is all I have left,” he said, his wings blinding in their intensity. “Finish it, or I will.”

Snow knew they wouldn’t survive another blast of light like the one that had already nearly killed them. His face set in a grim line, he twisted the bike’s throttle, riding in a sharp curve around Cid as the Eidolon’s magical engine encased him in a pillar of ice. Taking a deep breath, Snow braked hard, and the ice shattered into fatal shards.

“Ugh,” sputtered Cid, coughing up a gritty mixture of blood and crystal dust as the magic that sustained him began to wane.

“Raines…” Lightning muttered, holstering the Blazefire Saber as what was left of the general slowly succumbed to his wounds.

“Ironic, isn’t it,” he panted. “The only thing I wanted was a moment of triumph. How it ends isn’t important.”

“What…is he?” wondered Vanille, looking at him in shock. No longer human, but not Cie’th either, with blood dripping from his wounds and crystallizing before it could fall to the floor. A creature of fal’Cie magic, but possessed of his own will, however warped it might have been in those final moments.

“I don’t know what he is,” said Snow. “I don’t think he knows.”

“Just do what you know is right,” Cid finished, his crystal body hardening and solidifying as he spoke. “Trust yourselves.” With that, he fell silent, but Vanille still sensed his presence, slumbering in the crystal just as Serah and Dajh had. Just as she and Fang had.

THIRTY-TWO

“What…happened?” asked Sazh, his mouth agape as he stared at Cid’s crystal. “Did he complete his Focus, then?”

“I don’t think so,” Snow remarked. “All Raines did was try to save Cocoon in his own way.”

“‘In his own way,’” repeated Hope. “You mean he…overcame it?”

“There’s no proof of that,” said Fang. “We won, defeating him just like any other obstacle in this place. The fal’Cie may not have sent him, but they got what they wanted out of him in the end anyway.”

“Fang,” Vanille interjected. “I think Snow might be right. We may have won the battle, but I didn’t sense defeat from him. He chose to trust us, and then he turned to crystal.”

“I think you should listen to her,” said Snow, striding over to the railing at the edge of the balcony and holding up Serah’s crystal tear. “My mind is made up. Maybe I will end up a Cie’th. But until that happens, I swear I am going to make Serah proud. Fang, you should do the same for Vanille.”

“Hmph,” she grunted. She had indeed told Snow several times that they were alike, but there was one crucial difference. Snow was gambling with his own life, while Serah was already safe in crystal stasis. Fang’s brand never changed, however, and it was Vanille who would pay the price if she defied Anima’s will. She wondered how confident and optimistic he would be if he was the one having to face down a future of helplessly watching Serah turn into a soulless abomination.

“I couldn’t bring myself to admit that this tear meant goodbye,” Snow continued. “But Serah was here the whole time,” he added, holding the tear over his heart. “Right here, watching over me. Now, I get it. What this tear’s been telling me is to not let our Focus win! It’s not the fal’Cie we should listen to, it’s Serah and Raines. They were trying to tell us that our Focus doesn’t matter! What matters to me is that we protect Cocoon, whatever it takes!”

Our Focus doesn’t matter? mouthed Fang silently, shaking her head. Vanille had said the exact same words to her at Euride Gorge, knowing full well what they meant. She looked at the girl, squeezing her eyes shut as waking nightmares swam through her mind. Terrible images of her beloved, screaming in pain and turning to cursed stone before her eyes, that beautiful light gone forever to be replaced with eternal anguish. It was a fate worse than death that no one deserved, least of all sweet, gentle Vanille.

“I’ll help you do it,” Vanille said, walking over to Snow and putting her hand over the crystal tear as he held it out.

“All right, I’m in,” agreed Hope, placing his hand over hers. The chocobo chick fluttered out of Sazh’s hair, landing on Hope’s hand as Vanille and Sazh laughed, and even Lightning began to smile.

“I mean come on!” said Snow. “When a chocobo agrees, you know you’re on the right path!”

“Well, count me out,” Fang muttered, stepping away from them. She had never wanted it to come to this, but Snow had crossed a line. “If you all want to go it on your own,” she said, drawing her spear, “then so will I!” She whirled around, staring the rest of them down with burning anger.

“Fang?” asked Vanille, afraid again as she looked into her partner’s eyes and saw it. She could almost accept that the hot-headed warrior woman she loved might have thought to turn on the others in a misguided attempt to protect her, but what she saw wasn’t just Fang’s temper. Flickering across her face was something inhuman, something monstrous. The echo of Ragnarok itself that had taken up residence in her soul.

“Hey, hey, now,” said Sazh, holding up his hands. “You’re not really gonna…are you?”

“Let Cocoon get what’s coming,” she spat. “They hate us for being l’Cie. What’s it to me if they die?”

“You can’t really mean that,” countered Hope.

“Better that than watching someone I love go Cie’th!”

“Fang, what are you doing?” asked Snow, stepping forward and reaching out to her. “You’re scaring her.”

“Back off, Snow!” she warned. “I mean it! Her life is not yours to gamble with! If none of you have the nerve for it, I’ll do it myself. Go on alone, get stronger, and smash Cocoon out of the sky!”

“Fang, no!” cried Vanille, running to her. “You can’t!”

“You turn Cie’th, and there’s no coming back!” Fang yelled, clutching at her arm as her brand began to burn. “I’m not letting it end that way! Not after everything we’ve been through!” She stumbled to the floor, dropping the lance in pain as the room went dark around her, blotting out all light except that which came from the great purple glyph that had appeared beneath her.

“Vanille, get back!” shouted Lightning, pulling the girl out of the way as the Eidolon began to manifest.

“Aaah!” screamed Fang in agony as a pillar of light shot into the air from where she knelt. A portal opened from above, and a terrible mechanical dragon descended from a cloud of pure darkness, swooping low over the six l’Cie and banking sharply to hover ominously in front of Fang.

“Uhh…” cried Hope, stumbling backwards with fright. He had been fascinated when his teacher had covered the Eidolons in school, and he had memorized all of them. He had never seen anything quite like this one in any of the textbooks, though.

“Is that…Bahamut?” wondered Vanille, running to Fang once more and clinging to her in terror. 

“What’s he doing here?” growled Fang. “Come to take pity on me, huh?” she spat, staring the entity down as it transformed in midair into a mighty demon. “Come to take care of a broken l’Cie?”

“That thing’s here to help us?” asked Snow, as he and the others hurried in to back her up.

“Oh, yeah, ‘help,’” Fang snarked. “That’s what Eidolons do, after all. They’re our ‘salvation.’ If we can’t decide what to do next, the Fool Goddess sends one of these monstrosities at us to come put us out of our misery! And judging by the one She picked…”

“Wait, so, you haven’t made up your mind yet!” said Snow jovially, stepping in front of her and steeling his defense as Bahamut plucked a sphere of dark energy from the air and reared back to throw it at her. “Agh!” he grunted, holding up his hands as the orb ricocheted off of him to blast a hole in a ruined skyscraper beyond the edge of the platform.

“Why are you protecting me?” cried Fang. “What are you doing?”

“We’re protecting one of our own,” declared Lightning. 

“You told us we were family, remember?” said Hope, taking the Airwing and shielding Fang with magic. “Well this is what families do!”

“We can do without their brand of mercy,” Lightning added. “And we don’t need a fal’Cie’s orders either. I’m fighting this Focus to the end. We all are. So please, Fang,” she finished, holding out her hand. “Fight with us.”

“Please?” implored Vanille as well, standing up and taking out her staff. “For me?”

“Vanille…” she started to say, but she knew Lightning was right. What good would I be to her if I died here? she realized, letting the two of them pull her to her feet. “All right,” she said, grabbing her lance and running to challenge the Eidolon. “Ready when you are!” The world went blurry as Bahamut ripped her soul from her chest, but she was the last daughter of Yun. As long as it was her life in danger and not Vanille’s, fear didn’t even factor into the equation.

Fang stood firm as the Eidolon swiped at her with his mighty claws, drawing regenerative energy from her brand through the lance as she parried the blow, giving the others an opening to attack. “Gonna have to try harder than that!” she taunted. In response, Bahamut summoned orbs of darkness once more, one in each hand this time, exerting a gravitational pull on her as she dug her lance into the concrete to resist. 

He slammed the two orbs together around her, nearly crushing her within as she spun the lance to keep his hands apart at the last second. She screamed in agonizing pain as the gravitational forces combined to crack every bone in her body, and she drove the spear back into the ground, leaning on it to stay upright.

“Fang!” Vanille cried out, taking hold of her arm and channeling her magic through her partner’s bones to knit them. “Be careful!”

“Don’t worry, my love,” she reassured. “I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let some servant of Etro get the best of me. You with me?”

“Till the end,” replied Vanille with a smile. 

“Take a damn nap, you hear me?” yelled Fang, holding her spear in the air and dragging the flow of time to a crawl around Bahamut as he tried to rear back for another attack, and Vanille surrounded him in a bubble of water. He came at them in slow motion, and Fang simply took Vanille’s hand and stepped gracefully out of the way while Snow punched the ground with a supercooled fist, freezing the Eidolon momentarily in place.

Bahamut broke free, turning directly into a barrage of Sazh’s gunfire as Fang struck him from behind, using his momentum to slam him into the wall behind her. Lightning drew his attention this time, slicing into his metal legs, and Fang magically warped the mass of his body, twisting his center of gravity out of alignment and sending him crashing to the floor. “Having fun yet?” she shouted at him, thrusting her lance into the joint of his arm as Vanille and Hope engulfed him in a firestorm. 

The Eidolon stood up sharply, however, tossing another sphere of darkness at the balcony supports behind the l’Cie. An explosion blasted the six of them to the floor, and an entire section of the elevated walkway came loose, shuddering as it began to collapse.

“What do we do?” yelled Sazh, clutching at the railing as the chunk of concrete they stood on began to plummet to the street below.

“Oh, he’s mine now!” announced Fang, smiling as energy orbs appearing in Bahamut’s clawed hands once more. This time, however, she didn’t resist as the gravitational pull lifted her off the floor, banishing all fear and willingly letting herself float directly between his massive claws. “I command you to return my soul and serve me, Eidolon!” she cried, throwing the lance directly into his frightful metal face.

With Fang’s spear stuck clean through his head, even this legendary lord among Eidolons had no choice but to concede to her, and her soul instantly snapped back into her body. Bahamut folded up as wings extended from his back, forming into a dragon once more. She leapt atop him to formalize the pact, soaring into the air as she had done with the wyverns she and Vanille would tame. “Haha!” she laughed.

Vanille started to laugh as well, herself giddy with the excitement even as Snow and Lightning braced for the impact, and Hope and Sazh looked on with terror. She cast the binding rod’s wires up, catching Bahamut’s wing and using the rod as a grapple to pull herself into the air, climbing on his back beside Fang. “Hang on, guys!” she called. “We’ve got you!”

“Go!” yelled Fang, pointing at the falling platform, and Bahamut dived to grab the edge of it with his claws. Vanille threw the wires out from the binding rod again, snagging on the far end of the broken balcony to stabilize it, and together they broke its fall right before it could crash to the ground.

Vanille may have hated killing, but when the stakes were no longer as high as they had been during the war and the aftermath of the Purge, fighting alongside Fang and watching her love in action had once more become a thrill she couldn’t get enough of. Fang brought Bahamut to a landing, hopping off and letting Vanille sweep her into a sensual embrace as the Eidolon returned to her brand.

“It felt good, didn’t it,” Vanille reminded her. “Standing tall for yourself again? Fighting for us, for our own reasons instead of some Focus? Like it used to be.”

“It did at that,” admitted Fang, a smile tugging at her face. “Vanille, I’m sorry. I’ve been trying so hard to protect you, that I guess… I forgot what I was protecting.”

“I know, Fang,” she said. “I’ve always known. But that’s not what I want anymore. Maybe it never was.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want you to protect me,” Vanille clarified, kissing her passionately as she saw a spark of the Fang she loved begin to return. “All I’ve wanted, since the day we awoke on Cocoon, was for you to be Oerba Yun Fang again. The girl I fell for all those years ago. The proud, defiant warrior who never backs down, never surrenders, and never lets anyone tell her how to live, not even a fal’Cie. I just wanted the old you back.”

“All right, you two, get a room!” joked Snow, and all six of them began to laugh. 

“Hate to break up the party, but we still need a way out of here,” said Sazh, looking around at their surroundings. The streets where the balcony had fallen were flooded knee-deep in putrid water that smelled of motor oil and behemoth dung, and the buildings ahead of them lay at odd angles, devastated long ago by some unknown force.

“Hey, look at that!” called Vanille, pointing down the ruined street. Amidst the wreckage, one thing stood out as untouched. A massive machine of copper and brass, similar to a Pulsian dreadnought but on a much grander scale.

“Is that…an airship?” Sazh mused. Despite its unfamiliar design, a cockpit was clearly visible at the top, and the large wheel-like structures on either side bore a striking resemblance to the gravitational AMP rotors used all across Cocoon.

“Yep!” she confirmed. “It’s from Gran Pulse! I guess it was one of this Ark’s weapons or something.”

“I guess we could blast our way outta here…and end up back in Eden, flying around in a Pulse warship,” he muttered. “Oh, that’ll end well.”

“Wait a minute,” Fang interjected, noticing an unusual green glow in the distance. It came from a shimmering apparition, shaped like a ghostly being with twelve wings and a humanoid face, hovering eerily and silently over the street. “That light… I’ve seen that before!”

“Just like the portals that Leviathan used!” exclaimed Vanille.

“Huh?” asked Lightning. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s a gate,” explained Fang. “Created by a fal’Cie, and I’m willing to bet it leads to the surface of Gran Pulse!”

“So, what, that’s our exit?” asked Sazh. “Pulse or bust?”

“Could be one of Dysley’s traps,” Lightning warned.

“Well that’s not good,” moaned Vanille. “Do you think it might take us to Eden, then?”

“Mm-mm,” Sazh countered. “I’m doing the flying this time. No more of these ships taking charge of our travel plans! Only place this thing is taking us is where these boys tell it to!” he declared, flexing his arms.

“Ha! Really?” laughed Fang. “That is a Gran Pulse ship! You won’t have the slightest clue how it works!”

“Hey, now! I’m Sazh Katzroy! If it’s got an engine, I can fly it. And if it’s from Pulse, that means none of Dysley’s jacked-up autopilot, right?”

“Either way, we’re on borrowed time,” said Snow, looking nervously at his brand and noticing the bright red eye had begun to manifest in the center. “Might as well go. We get lucky, maybe we’ll even turn up some way to get rid of these goofy tattoos!”

“But there’s no way to do that!” cried Vanille.

“You never know,” Fang said, putting her arm around Vanille. She had never lacked for confidence or resolve, but waking up on Cocoon had shaken her optimism. Taming Bahamut, however, with her newfound family standing behind her and Vanille by her side once more, had brought back something she had thought gone for good. “Maybe we just never thought to look for one.”

“If nothing else, we know Cocoon is safe for the time being,” added Hope. “Barthandelus can’t destroy it without us, after all. I’d say it’s worth going to take a look.”

“What about your dad?” Lightning asked him.

“I made him a promise,” he declared. “I promised him I’d keep going, and do what I had to. He said only I would know what that was. I know now that the world is full of lies, and there’s no way of knowing for sure what’s right. All I can do is believe in myself.”

“You’ve come a long way, Hope,” said Lightning with a smile. 

“So have you,” he reminded her. “It’s easy to sit back and let people trick you, I guess, like how the Sanctum had us all thinking that a l’Cie was some kind of monster. But I’m done with the lies, done with the fal’Cie, and done with this whole Focus thing. From here on out, I use my eyes, think for myself, and act.”

“In the end, that’s all we’ve got,” agreed Vanille. “Our eyes, and our choices. No Focus can take that away.”

“I might not make all the right choices, of course,” Hope continued. “But as long as I’m the one who decided what to do, there’s nothing to regret!”

“All right!” exclaimed Sazh, putting his arm around the boy and laughing. His words had contained wisdom far beyond his years, and even Sazh’s cynical heart could not help but warm. “Let’s do it. I’m with you, bad choices and all!”

“I mean, I don’t know how it’s gonna turn out,” said Hope. “‘Pulse is hell’ and all that, you know?”

“Oh, is it now?” snarked Fang, ruffling his hair. “How many times have you been there?”

“None. That’s why I want to go,” he admitted with a smile. “I want to see what it’s like for myself. Maybe you guys can even show me where you grew up!”

“Okay, people!” said Snow, tossing Serah’s tear into the air and catching it. “So, everybody in?”

“Off to hell we go!” declared Lightning as they all nodded in agreement, slogging through the flooded street to the ancient airship, ready to leave behind everything they knew and forge ahead into adventures unknown. Beyond them lay Gran Pulse, centuries removed from the home Fang and Vanille knew, and completely foreign to the others, where they would all be strangers in a strange land.

Chapter Text

THIRTY-THREE

“‘L’Cie who rest upon Cocoon will reawaken, however long they may wait,’” came a terrible voice through the haze of crystal dreams, speaking dramatically as if reading the words. It was a voice that Cid Raines had thought he would finally be free of, yet it had come back from his nightmares to haunt him once more. “Reawaken for me now, my noble servant, and do my bidding!”

He felt his consciousness slowly drift back to reality, his body cracking and splintering as it broke free from the mutated crystalline form he had taken upon being struck down by Snow. His eyes opened, and his nightmare took shape before him. Barthandelus, in the guise of Primarch Dysley, stood over him, and as he looked down, his gaze fixed onto the brand that forevermore adorned his wrist. It had been reset to its first stage, but remained indelible as ever.

“Stand before me, Cid Raines,” commanded Barthandelus. “Your part has not yet reached its conclusion.”

“You…” Cid began in astonishment. “What is this?”

“Nothing less than a miracle,” responded the fal’Cie. “Your resurrection. As was the case with the avatar of destruction and the woman with the eyes of a child, you have been gifted with a second chance. Complete your Focus, and deliver unto this world its salvation.”

“No,” he stated. “I will not serve your kind any more.”

“Oh, but you will,” Barthandelus told him. “The tragic death of Galenth Dysley and the entire crew of the Palamecia at the hands of the dreaded Pulse l’Cie has left Cocoon without a leader. Your time has come, Primarch Raines. You shall step up and take your place at the head of the Sanctum.”

“I refuse.”

“Do you not wish to stop the Purges once and for all?” he asked. “Your first act as Primarch will be to tell the heroic tale of Galenth Dysley’s brave sacrifice, how he ordered the destruction of his own ship in order to finally put an end to the l’Cie threat.”

“And if I tell the people the truth?” spat Cid. “That a fal’Cie ordered the mass extermination of the citizens of Bodhum under the guise of ‘relocation,’ without proof that even a single Pulse l’Cie was still present in the city?”

“Who will believe you?” laughed Barthandelus. “Once the people find out your brigade has been aiding the l’Cie from the beginning, people will take up arms against you, and the Cavalry will be forced to respond in kind. Without proper leadership, Cocoon will be plunged into civil war.”

“Why me, then?” asked Cid. “Why have me calm the waters?”

“‘And Ragnarok will rise again, to tear the land from its seat in the sky,’” Barthandelus simply quoted, ignoring his question. “So it has been written. So it must be. Fulfill your Focus, and bring the Day of Wrath. Only then, by Almighty Bhunivelze’s divine hand, may the world come to know true peace once again.”

Cid stared down at his branded arm. He had fought his Focus to the end, sheer determination forcing his brand to crystallize rather than consume him, and he had won. It had all been for naught, however. He should have slept for eternity, but as long as the brand remained, he would never be anything more than a tool, and not even the fal’Cie were capable of removing their mark.

* * *

“We’re going home at last, Fang,” Vanille remarked as they stepped aboard the airship. Centuries of dust had gathered, but the vessel was in otherwise immaculate condition. Although it was a fraction the size of the mighty flagship Highwind that had borne her and Fang to their fateful final battle with Cocoon’s forces all those eons ago, this ship’s design was similar enough that she gave a slight shiver at the memories.

“You know, I’ve got to say, this is weird,” said Fang, taking a seat directly behind Sazh and strapping in. “When we were young, we were always taught that someday we’d be attacked by the demons of Cocoon. Look at us now, about to fly home with the very people we were chosen to take up arms against.”

“Yep!” giggled Vanille, sitting beside her. “Back then, we never would have helped you guys. I mean, no offense. We were pretty ignorant too.”

“Hey, it’s weird to us, too,” Sazh agreed, inspecting the strange ship’s controls. The labels were written in indecipherable Pulsian script, but there was a familiar yoke, throttle, and rudder pedals waiting for him. “All that shit I blathered about ‘scum from Pulse,’ and I’m your pilot!”

“After five hundred years,” Vanille mused, “I wonder how we’ll be remembered back home, if at all.”

“Do you suppose Cocoon’s version of the War of Transgression was also built up around the two of you, then?” asked Hope.

“I suppose so,” she said solemnly, remembering the simplistic tale of the Pompa Sancta parade.

“Not like we can remember,” Fang muttered. “We just got turned to crystal, and don’t even have the memories to show for it.”

“It’s all my fault,” cried Vanille. “So many people died because of me…” She trailed off, still afraid to tell Fang the last horrible secret she was holding on to. She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever, but she hoped they would at least get a moment of privacy once they arrived.

“It’s over,” Lightning reassured. “Those souls can rest. Let’s go learn the truth.”

“You really think you can fly this thing, Sazh?” asked Vanille.

“As soon as I find the, well, um, the on switch,” he muttered, pressing buttons on the console at random to no avail.

“Oh, right, because you can’t read our language!” Fang said sarcastically, pointing to a lever. “Try the one that says ‘engine ignition.’”

“I knew that,” he said in embarrassment, pushing it. The ancient machine slowly sputtered to life, strange green symbols lighting up on screens around him. “That’s more like it!” He took hold of the yoke, and the ship shuddered roughly, leaping into the air with startling force.

“Um, Sazh?” questioned Vanille nervously. “Watch out!” she shrieked as they narrowly missed sideswiping a building.

“I got it, I got it,” he placated, quickly getting a feel for the controls and stabilizing them in midair. “Straight through the glowing green creepy thing, right? Here we go!” He pushed the throttle forward, and the ship rocketed forth toward the eerie portal. The apparition’s ghostly wings folded around them as they entered, and a wormhole of hypnotic light surrounded them.

“Ugh…” groaned Hope, gripping the edge of his seat as they lost all sense of gravity and equilibrium in the bizarre pocket dimension they had entered.

“Careful, now,” Fang warned. “Don’t want to lose your lunch!”

“Easy for…you to say…” muttered Sazh, focusing all his attention on flying the ship in what he hoped was a straight line. He grunted as acceleration pushed them back in their seats and a blinding light filled the windows, fading to reveal a landscape like nothing found on Cocoon. “Whoa,” he said, astonished.

“You did it!” exclaimed Vanille, patting him on the shoulder.

“Yeah!” he said. “Told you, didn’t I?”

Before them, the clouds had parted on a land of wilderness that stretched on as far as the eye could see, the horizon curving down at a dizzying scale. Immense trees the size of skyscrapers towered above great canyons that dwarfed even the Euride Gorge in scope. Above them, no comforting shell of landmasses and oceans could be seen, rather an empty sky of limitless blue beckoned into infinity. Light shone down not from the watchful gaze of Phoenix, but a true sun, burning hot and unimaginably distant. 

“Wow,” said Hope, staring wide-eyed out the window. “It’s incredible!”

“Home sweet home!” said Fang with a smile. “Welcome to Gran Pulse!”

“Is that a city?” asked Snow, pointing to a sprawling cluster of structures poking out of the jungle in the distance.

“It’s huge!” remarked Vanille as she got out of her seat to take a closer look.

“Let’s head for it,” decided Lightning. “Sounds like the best place to get our bearings.” Before they could get much closer, however, the ship shook from sudden turbulence as a monstrous dark shape filled their view.

“What the hell is that?” Sazh yelled, pulling back on the yoke to stabilize them as an enormous flying worm-like creature became visible.

“Playful little critter, isn’t he?” Fang mused.

“Yeah, well, play with someone else,” grumbled Lightning.

“The Nameless Immortal,” added Vanille calmly. “Happens all the time!”

“Yep,” said Fang. “Created by the fal’Cie Titan in an age before history to be the world’s apex predator, or so the legend goes. He thinks we’re lunch!”

“Yeah, like a l’Cie-food buffet,” Sazh joked sardonically, trying to give it a wide berth as it came around for another pass, extending its forked tongue and reaching for the ship with horrible tentacles and grotesque clawed hands.

“‘L’Cie-food,’” quoted Lightning. “Cute. Can you get us away?”

“Guys, here it comes!” shrieked Hope.

Sazh banked sharply to starboard, but the antique Pulsian craft was not as maneuverable as the Cocoon-built airships he was used to, and the creature’s claws raked along the flank of the vessel, rending the hull and shattering the port-side windows. The cabin instantly depressurized, and a stiff wind sucked Hope and Vanille outside, leaving them clinging desperately to a twisted bulkhead. 

“Vanille!” Fang cried, as she and Snow both hurriedly unbuckled their seatbelts and stood up to try and help the two of them, but neither could reach while holding on to the support beam, and if they let go, the wind would pull them outside as well.

Sazh didn’t need to read Pulsian to tell they had taken severe damage as the console lit up with glowing red warnings, and the ship began to spin uncontrollably as the port engine lost thrust. “Dammit!” he yelled. “Why can’t it ever be easy, huh?”

The ship turned upside-down despite Sazh’s best efforts, alarms sounding from the cockpit as the starboard engine failed next and it began to lose altitude rapidly. Vanille screamed as she and Hope both lost their grip on the bulkhead, tumbling into a freefall toward the ground far below. 

“Fang, get ‘em!” shouted Snow.

“Already on it!” she called out, letting go of the beam and leaping out after them, seizing Bahamut’s crystal wing from her brand and tossing it into the air above her. Close behind, Lightning followed, pulling out the Blazefire Saber and shooting the crystal right out of the sky.

It shattered into a cloud of darkness, and Bahamut burst forth from a great violet portal within, diving majestically to catch Fang as she fell. She reached out, taking Lightning’s hand and pulling her onto the Eidolon’s back next to her. “Here goes!” she yelled, pointing Bahamut at the crippled airship as it fell past them.

“Uhh…” groaned Sazh, twisting the yoke to no avail as the forest below them began to loom large in the cockpit windows. “Ship’s toast! We’re goin’ down!” he cried, removing his seatbelt and climbing through the spinning cabin toward the hull breach. “Hey! Over here!” he yelled, waving desperately at Fang and Lightning.

“Jump!” Lightning called, reaching forth as Bahamut soared in beside him and Snow, and helping them out of the doomed ship.

“You okay?” asked Vanille as Hope clung to her hand while they fell. She was smiling from the exhilaration, implicitly trusting Fang to catch her, but terror was radiating off of Hope in nearly-overwhelming waves.

“Oh yeah!” he snarked as the forest grew close enough that he could make out the leaves on the trees below. “I’m great!”

“Grab on!” came Fang’s voice, and Bahamut swooped in underneath them at the last second while the airship crashed to the ground at full speed, scattering trees like toothpicks. They circled around, and the mighty Eidolon brought them to a gentle landing in a small canyon amidst the wreckage.

THIRTY-FOUR

“Welp,” muttered Sazh, sliding down off Bahamut’s back. “That…did not go as planned.”

“Everyone okay?” asked Snow. The others nodded in reassurance, but the mood was bleak as the reality of their predicament began to set in.

“Yeah,” said Hope, panting from exhaustion. “Well, at least no one’s chasing us for once, and I don’t see an army of angry robots, either. Maybe we can take a break first, figure out what to do later?”

“Sun’s setting,” noticed Fang as Bahamut returned to her brand. “We’ve got maybe two hours of good light left. Hope’s right, we should set up a base camp before it gets dark. This is a good defensible spot, and the crash probably scared off any nasties for a while.”

“Very well,” agreed Lightning. “Sazh and I will go see what we can scavenge from the ship. Fang, Vanille, you know the land here, see if you can find anything edible nearby. Snow, take Hope and gather some wood for a fire.”

The l’Cie worked in relative silence, none of them feeling much like making conversation or questioning her lead. By the time darkness fell, they had set up an improvised campsite, with a makeshift pot of bland-but-edible stew over a roaring fire, seat cushions as beds, and a threadbare tarpaulin serving as a shelter.

“You have any idea where to go?” asked Sazh finally, taking his turn to sip soup from the one usable cup they had found in the wreckage, and letting the chocobo chick nibble on a piece of boiled greens.

“Not a clue,” Fang admitted. “Gran Pulse is a big place.”

“Let’s get some rest for tonight,” suggested Snow. “We can get our bearings in the morning.”

“I’ll take first watch,” said Lightning, dousing the fire with soil and sitting at the camp’s edge as the others began to settle in for the night. She looked up at the vast night sky, infinitely deep and peppered with tiny lights, so different from the far wall of continents and cities that she knew. The chirps and howls of strange insects and animals echoed through the canyon, and she kept her saber at the ready in case they got too close.

* * *

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” asked Snow after a little while, sitting next to Lightning at the camp’s perimeter. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Hmph,” she replied. “I suppose it is. I’ve never been much for sightseeing.”

“Hey, speak for yourself,” he chuckled, pulling the crystal tear out of his pocket and holding it up to the sky. “Fang told me they’re called ‘stars,’ and each one is another world, far, far away. Come on, even you’ve gotta admit that’s pretty amazing.”

“Yeah,” she agreed reluctantly.

“Serah would love it here,” continued Snow. “Before all this started, we were gonna go on a camping trip, you know. Maybe someday, we’ll all be able to come here again, after we save Cocoon. Stare up at this sky together, sit around the fire, and tell her stories of this day. Hey, gotta dream, right?”

Lightning didn’t answer, simply staring at the endless canvas of stars. As far as she had come from that terrible day she had refused to believe Serah until it had been too late, she still could not, would not, let herself give in to Snow’s optimism. The only way she knew how to live was to keep her emotions at arm’s length. That required pragmatic realism, not flights of fancy, but she was ready at least to let him keep the flame of hope alive in her stead.

* * *

Hope awoke at the first rays of sunlight peeking into the canyon. He stood up quietly, looking around and pacing through the camp. Everyone else was asleep: Vanille was curled up in Fang’s arms, Snow was holding the crystal tear in his hand, the chocobo chick was nestled against Sazh’s face, and even Lightning had dozed off still clutching the Blazefire Saber.

Having not slept since they had left the Lindblum, Hope had collapsed as soon as he had finished eating the previous night, not even stopping to get a true sense of just how alien his surroundings were. The shrill calls of strange birds could be heard in the distance, their cries piercing through a silence like nothing he had ever heard growing up in the bustle of Palumpolum.

Curious, he scrambled nimbly up the rocks to the top of the canyon wall, looking out over the bizarre landscape. Stark leafless trees, each crowned with a single ball of fluff like a giant dandelion head, towered over a tangle of smaller shrubs as far as the eye could see, and wild wyverns played in the dizzyingly infinite sky above. 

Behind it all floated a sphere of rough crystal: Cocoon from the outside, featureless save for a glassy scar from which a great waterfall flowed endlessly, where its shell had been cracked so many eons ago. It looked so small in the distance, it was hard to imagine it had once been the only world he knew. Staring at the scene, he lost track of time, finally startled back to his senses by Vanille’s voice.

“Something on your mind?” she asked, standing over him.

“Huh?” he said, flustered. “Oh, uh, I was just thinking…”

“About what? Something complicated?”

What isn’t complicated these days? he wondered to himself, but he shook his head. “I was just taking it all in,” he told her. “The sky here, the trees, the sunlight, the smells. When I was on Cocoon, I never dreamed a place like this could even exist. But now, here I am. On Pulse. Nothing like the hell we were warned about in all those children’s stories.”

“I felt the same, when I first woke up in your world,” Vanille admitted, her voice tinged with sadness. “It looked like a paradise to me. A paradise Fang and I were supposed to destroy. Hope, I’m so sorry…”

“No, no,” he interrupted, holding up his hand to stop her. “I’ve been thinking, if none of this had happened, if I hadn’t gone to those fireworks, if I hadn’t been sitting in the same train car during the Purge, if anything had been different… I would never have had a chance to see this.”

“Aw, no, I’m sure you would have wound up here,” said Vanille, sitting next to him and smiling again. “Don’t you remember you promised me?”

“Huh?” Hope asked, confused.

“You promised me that we’d come and see Gran Pulse together!” she said, winking mischievously.

“Uh, really?” he said nervously, wracking his brain trying to remember. “I don’t… Um, when did I do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Vanille giggled, hooking her pinky finger playfully around his. “How about another lifetime?” 

“What does that even mean?” he muttered, unable to ever tell what was going through her mind.

She hopped to her feet, skipping around through the grass. “To tell you the truth, I’ve told so many lies, it’s all a blur,” she said.

“Well, you know, sometimes you have to lie about stuff,” Hope said. “To keep yourself going, because you’re afraid, or to protect someone else, so they don’t get hurt.”

“That’s what I thought I was doing, originally,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to destroy Cocoon, didn’t want to hurt people again, so I lied. I lied to you all, I lied to Serah, I lied to myself, but…worst of all, I lied to Fang, first. And I…I’m still lying to her. I keep telling myself it’s to protect her, but all my lies have ever done has been hurt everybody!”

“Vanille, yesterday I learned that sometimes even the things that everyone in the whole world thinks are true, turn out to be lies,” he said. “At the end of the day, it’s not the lie that matters. It’s what you do after you tell it. Work hard enough, and you can make it true.”

“‘Make it true,’ huh?” she mused. 

“I mean, maybe we both forgot!” proposed Hope. “Maybe we did promise to see Gran Pulse together, and Cocoon too!”

“Thanks, Hope,” she said.

“Do something for me, will you?” he asked, turning to her. “Keep smiling. It…makes me happy when you smile.”

“Ah!” squeaked Vanille awkwardly, covering her face and blushing. “I…I didn’t know you felt that way! I…uh…but I…” 

“Gotcha!” said Hope, bursting out laughing.

“Wait a minute,” she said, confused. “You mean you were joking?”

“Now we’re even!” he giggled.

She tried to read his emotions, but he was confused himself, and she started to laugh as well. “In another lifetime!” she teased, poking him. “But you know I prefer girls, so in that life, you’re a girl!”

Hope’s face turned beet red. “I didn’t… How did you… I’m not…” A thousand conflicting emotions ran through his mind, fragments of thoughts he had never even given voice to. Even things that everyone thinks are true, he mused. 

“It’s all right,” Vanille told him, giving him a hug as she sensed her joke had drawn out a deeply buried feeling. “I’m an empath, remember?”

“I…” Hope started to say, not even sure what he was feeling. It wasn’t that he exactly had a problem with being a boy, at least not in theory. In practice, however, he had never been very good at it, at least not in the eyes of others. The other boys at school would constantly tease him, and the only people he had ever felt comfortable around had been girls. First Doreena, and now Vanille.

Even his relationship with his parents seemed to make more sense under this new lens. The close bond he had shared with Nora was more like that between mother and daughter than a son, and despite his reconciliation with Bartholomew, he couldn’t deny having felt a certain recoil every time his father had mentioned him “becoming a man.”

“I don’t know what…” he finally stuttered. “I’ve…never said that to anyone. Not even my mom. I never even…really thought about it that way before.”

“Don’t worry, Hope,” reassured Vanille. “Fang and I would never judge. I don’t think the others would either.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure what it means, to be honest. Now certainly isn’t the time, anyway.”

“The time is whenever it needs to be,” she said. “If you’re not ready, then take your time. Your secret will be safe with me until you are. But don’t hold back just because you think it isn’t important. I can sense it weighing on you, as heavy a burden as any Focus.”

“I need to think about it for a while,” said Hope, fighting back tears. “Thank you though, Vanille. All jokes aside, you really are the best friend I’ve had in a long time. If you hadn’t been there when Mom died… I don’t think I would have made it.”

She smiled, hugging him once more. “Like Fang says, we’re family.”

THIRTY-FIVE

Several hours later, Vanille and Fang walked through the mountainous jungle in the direction they had seen the city from the air. They had spoken little since leaving camp, when the six of them had split into three groups once more in order to cover more ground, searching for signs of civilization. 

Vanille tried to gather the courage to tell Fang what she had been hiding all this time, but she still could not find the right words, flashing back to what Hope had told her. “It’s not the lie that matters, but what you do after you tell it,” he had said. Fang was stubborn at her best, however, and Vanille had no idea how she would react in her current state.

“It’s strange,” said Vanille. “You would think someone would have seen our ship go down, and sent a search party, no?”

“We came out of a portal from Cocoon,” Fang reminded her. “In a ship that is probably an antique by now. We have no idea how much has changed since our time. They could very well be afraid of us. That’s why I said we should be the ones to investigate the city.”

They had seen little evidence of human influence on the landscape as they walked, passing a few rotting building foundations on the way, but nothing that looked like it had been touched in centuries. The remnants of a road that they followed led into another narrow canyon, winding down out of the highlands and finally opening up into a hidden valley.

“Dear gods,” said Fang, astonished as she got her first look at what lay beyond. “What happened here?”

The ruins that stretched out before them had once been a metropolis that had obviously rivaled Eden in scope, with crumbling skyscrapers and colonnades lining the overgrown streets. Rusted-out cars lay strewn at the bottom of a sinkhole of pockmarked concrete where there had once been a parking lot, and Cie’th stalked along the boulevard for as far as the eye could see.

“No…” moaned Vanille, gazing up at the once-majestic terraces and forgotten highways that stood in vain against the jungle that was slowly reclaiming them. “This can’t be… Can it?”

“City this size, it must be,” said Fang solemnly. “The capital, Paddra.”

“But…” she continued, not wanting to believe her own eyes. “What could have caused this? It… It wasn’t destroyed, it was…”

“Abandoned,” finished Fang, climbing up to the remains of an overpass to get a better look. “Vanille, look. They’re all Cie’th. The entire city.”

“No!” she shrieked, clinging to Fang in anguish. “But why? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Sure it does,” Fang grumbled. “You just have to think like a fal’Cie.”

“Huh?”

“We failed,” she explained. “We were supposed to bring down Cocoon, and we didn’t. So they made more l’Cie, and more, and more, until…”

“There can’t be no one! There must be survivors somewhere!”

“Perhaps,” said Fang. “But if Paddra has fallen, then our society as we knew it is gone. Because of us…well, really because of me.”

“You?” Vanille asked. “What do you mean?”

“It’s my fault, isn’t it,” she said. “I’m the one that failed.”

“What?”

“I remember everything,” Fang stated. “During the war, I became Ragnarok. I was the one that scarred Cocoon and didn’t finish it off. I left Gran Pulse in this mess.”

“What are you talking about?” insisted Vanille, trying in vain to stop the inevitable. 

“It all came back to me,” continued Fang. “Everything that happened with our Focus. All of it.”

“You’re lying!” she retorted. Even Fang would have been afraid of what had happened if she had truly remembered, and Vanille sensed nothing. It mattered not, however. She couldn’t hide it any longer, and she had run out of time to explain herself to the person she had wanted to hurt the least.

“No, it’s the truth. It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t say that!” Vanille screamed, clutching at her brand as it began to burn.

“Vanille!” Fang called out as a summoning circle appeared beneath the girl, dozens of mechanical hands reaching out of the ground from all sides of her. The hands gathered into two groups, in the center of which rose a sinister figure.

“The hundred-armed demon,” she whispered in fear. “Why?”

“Hecatoncheir knows the truth!” Fang remarked. “Ha! I knew I was right.”

“So you were lying!” cried Vanille.

“No more than you were! Admit it! You remember everything.”

“But it wasn’t your fault!”

“Vanille, maybe we should talk about this later!” yelled Fang, unfurling her lance as the Eidolon stepped forward, looming over the two of them. “He’s not about to wait!”

Hecatoncheir raised a dozen of his right hands in unison, reaching for and plucking out Vanille’s soul as she fumbled for the binding rod in a panic. She was not usually afraid of battle, but something about having manifested this particular Eidolon made her unsettled, and she sensed anger from Fang as well.

Vanille held up the wand, struggling to breathe. Fang had stepped in front to guard her, but she knew Hecatoncheir had chosen her for the same reason as Anima. His test would be not only of her strength and physical resilience, but her mind. If she couldn’t control the inner darkness that stemmed from her empathic powers, she would die.

She closed her eyes, reaching out into the ether with her mind. Unlike their cousins the fal’Cie, Eidolons were bound to the will of a master rather than a self-determined Focus, and as such they didn’t normally possess souls, instead being powered directly by the magic of Etro. Hecatoncheir, however, deliberately bore a reasonable simulacrum: a mass of emotional resonance culled from the memories of every l’Cie he had ever served, designed specifically for someone like Vanille to seize hold of.

And to test my resolve, she reminded herself as she lifted the floodgates on her dark power and began to unravel the faux soul. It may have been cobbled out of fragmented dreams and held together with the goddess’s magic, but the pain and anguish that poured out of it had come from real people, and was every bit as overwhelming as it would have been if she were using her power on a human being.

“Aah!” Vanille cried out, stumbling onto the hard pavement as memories and emotions flooded her mind once again.

“Vanille!” yelled Fang, parrying dozens of blows from the Eidolon’s hands to keep him occupied, but he summoned spikes of rock out of the ground, knocking them both back. Jumping into the air, he landed on top of Vanille before she could get back to her feet, then kicked Fang clear off the crumbling bridge to the street below.

Vanille struggled out from under Hecatoncheir’s metal foot, her ears ringing and her vision swimming with nonsensical sounds and imagery from a hundred overlapping memories. “Fang!” she called, but her senses were useless and she had no idea where her partner had fallen; the only thing she had left was her mind. She hurriedly healed herself, then felt through the ether to find Fang’s soul in order to keep her alive as well.

She turned back to the Eidolon, pulling at thread after arcane thread, forcing herself to ignore the echoed cries of anguish until she reached something different. A strand of pure magic underneath the simulated soul, something powerful enough that she knew it had to connect to Etro Herself.

Hecatoncheir instantly released Vanille’s own soul, bowing before her as her vision slowly came back. His multitude of arms joined together into a quartet of mighty cannons as he bent forward, transforming into a warmech and inviting her to ride in formal concession.

As the Eidolon faded into a small crystal apple that returned to Vanille’s brand, she scrambled down to the street where Fang had landed. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Fang muttered curtly, standing up. “You?”

“I’m all right,” she said nervously. Fang’s anger was becoming intense, and she was worried it might break through at any moment.

“I knew something was off,” grumbled Fang. “You’ve been shying away from our Focus ever since we woke up on Cocoon.”

“I…” Vanille started, trailing off.

“I couldn’t figure it out until just a little while ago,” she continued. “But now it all makes sense. The story from Raines, what Barthandelus said, and the way you reacted. You already knew. You knew Ragnarok was the name of destruction.”

“It wasn’t fair!” insisted Vanille, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You had to do all the horrible stuff, and I could only watch as you…”

“That is no reason to lie to me!” Fang snapped, standing menacingly over Vanille. “You think that’s what I wanted? You, of all people! After everything we’ve been through together!” Her hand began to ball into a fist, and just as Vanille had feared, her face began to twist unrecognizably with Ragnarok’s inhuman rage.

“Fang…” she sobbed, backing away in fear of the woman she used to trust without hesitation. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”

“I…” Fang started, lowering her hand, but she knew not what to say.

“It’s as you said, I do remember,” confirmed Vanille. “During the final battle, you became Ragnarok. But it wasn’t just your body that changed. You turned. I looked into your soul, Fang, and you were gone, completely replaced by that monster. And even now that you’re back, it’s still inside you, threatening to come out every time you get angry. Ever since that day, you’ve never been the same.”

THIRTY-SIX

“All hands, brace for impact!” yelled the captain. The Highwind shook violently as high-pressure jets of water issued from all seven of Leviathan’s serpent-faced hoses, slicing into the airship’s stabilizers and filling the bridge with the sound of rending metal.

“It’s time,” announced Fang. The immense fal’Cie had already taken down a third of the fleet as well as decimating their ground forces, and even the Highwind couldn’t take another hit like that. “Vanille, stay here and tend to the wounded. I’m going on deck, and I’m gonna finish this.”

“But I thought…” she started to object.

“Don’t argue this time, missy,” Fang interrupted, putting her hands on her partner’s shoulders. “I love you, Vanille. The sooner I do this, the sooner it’ll all be over.”

“I love you too,” she replied, kissing Fang tenderly. “Just…promise you’ll come back to me, okay?”

“This is what all my training has been for,” reassured Fang. “To keep you safe. I’ll take down Leviathan first, then Cocoon itself. We will be together for eternity, Vanille. This, I swear. All you have to do is stay alive.”

“Okay,” agreed Vanille, taking a deep breath as she watched Fang turn and walk away, down the corridor toward their shared destiny. It felt wrong, leaving her to do it all on her own, but she had insisted from the moment their Focus had been revealed, trying to protect Vanille from having to kill so many people. All she could do now was watch, and hope.

Fang made her way down the stairs, pausing before the deck hatch and setting the crimson lance of Clan Yun down against the wall. If this went well, perhaps she would never need it again. She opened the hatch, striding alone onto the deck of the Highwind, staring Leviathan down as the water in its two enormous spherical tanks began to churn and roil once more. Behind it lay Cocoon itself, close enough that she could almost taste Lindzei’s foul power.

“It’s over,” she declared, summoning magic from her brand to flow throughout her, and roaring in rage as she tapped in to a primal fury even she could not help but fear. The magic ripped through her body, distorting her flesh and bones, twisting her into a grotesque, massive figure of living metal, as if she were becoming a brand-new Eidolon. Razor-sharp claws extended from her fingers, toes, and even her face, and her eyes glowed bright orange with unbridled wrath.

Nothing that powerful came without a price, Fang realized, however, and the cursed magic began to warp her mind as well. Her vision darkened, all detail overtaken by a simple perception of living souls, from the crew of the Highwind beneath the deck, to the intense glow coming from Leviathan. Even her reason for fighting faded away, her desire to protect Vanille and finish her Focus subsumed by a singular urge to destroy. In mere moments, she had ceased to be Oerba Yun Fang. She was now Ragnarok, the avatar of destruction itself, and nothing would stand in her way.

“It worked!” exclaimed the Highwind’s captain, as the bridge crew looked out the windows and cheered. 

“No!” screamed Vanille, however. Even from inside the bridge, she could tell something was wrong, feeling as her partner’s boisterous, thrill-seeking persona morphed instantly into something dark and terrifying.

Ragnarok leapt from the deck as Leviathan began to discharge its deadly water jets once more, and the fal’Cie pointed the hoses directly at her instead of the ship. The streams that had penetrated even the Highwind’s hull reflected off her magically-charged skin, however, scattering into a harmless spray, and she landed directly between Leviathan’s crystal water tanks.

“Fang!” Vanille called in vain, watching as Ragnarok grabbed hold of the glowing blue orb that served as the entity’s head, tearing it loose in one quick motion and tossing it casually aside, its array of deadly hoses instantly falling limp. Water erupted from the wound she had made, crystallizing into shards from the dying fal’Cie’s magic, and Leviathan slowly began to lose altitude, descending toward the ocean below.

Unsatisfied, Ragnarok reached her hand through the jagged hole in the being’s metal shell, grasping at the crystal heart that powered it, and crushing it to dust in her claws. A wave of magical force exploded from it as the fal’Cie perished instantly, and Vanille watched in horror as she opened her mouth wide and breathed the shockwave in, consuming Leviathan’s very soul and growing stronger from the power.

“Fang, what are you doing?” Vanille cried, as Ragnarok jumped back onto the deck of the Highwind, smashing through the bridge’s window and letting loose a primal roar. Empty of all but blind rage and bloodlust, she casually pounced on the Highwind’s captain, impaling him with her claws and devouring his flesh in seconds. She leapt forward in a rampage, mindlessly slaughtering and eating the shocked bridge crew before they could react, her power increasing with each kill. Finally, she turned to face a terrified Vanille.

“Fang, why?” screamed Vanille, desperately diving behind a console as the ship spun out of control. “Stop this! It’s me! It’s Vanille!”

Ragnarok hesitated, some part of her still recognizing the girl she loved and had sworn to protect, but unable to understand what she was feeling. The bridge crew were only humans, but Vanille was a l’Cie, a sumptuous feast ripe for the picking, so why was she conflicted? So potent, she thought. Such vitality could make me unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with. With her power, even Lindzei Himself would tremble before me.

“Fang!” Vanille yelled. “You have to stop! This isn’t you!” Shaking, she stood up, holding up the binding rod and preparing herself for the worst. “Fang, please! I love you. Don’t do this.”

“You…love…me…” growled Ragnarok in an inhuman voice, blood dripping from her mouth and claws as they hovered menacingly above Vanille’s head. “Love…”

“Engine room to bridge!” crackled a voice over the ship’s intercom. “Status report! We’re losing altitude!”

Ragnarok looked up, noticing the delectable energy from Cocoon dwarfing what she could get from this one girl, and partially remembering the dream of her Focus. Humans, even l’Cie, were nothing. The spoils from more than a million fal’Cie, servants of Lindzei and enemies of all she had once known, awaited her above, and with them, she could destroy all of creation. She turned away from Vanille, launching herself into the air and rocketing toward the floating feast.

“Fang!” called Vanille once more, desperately casting the binding rod’s wires onto Ragnarok’s body as the ship fell toward the ocean below. She gripped the staff with both hands, pulling herself along with the beast, and retracted the wires in a panic, throwing her arms around the monster Fang had become as she slammed into the surface of Cocoon at high velocity.

Ragnarok dug her claws into the rough crystal shell of the floating world, channeling the energy of the souls she had supped upon into a shockwave that she then unleashed upon it. A spiderweb of cracks fanned out from where she had landed, the surface shattering into crystal dust for a hundred miles in every direction.

Vanille screamed in shared agony as the cries of thousands upon thousands dying in one instant flooded her mind. Fear and panic echoed from across Cocoon, and horrific visions of blood and death flashed before her eyes from its terrified inhabitants even as Ragnarok roared in delight. Entire cities crumbled to dust in seconds as the ground on which they were built was rent out from under them, and Vanille could not help but bear witness to the last moments of every man, woman, and child as the world they inhabited collapsed around them.

“Yes!” cried the fell beast, feeding on the death and destruction she had wrought, growing stronger still. There was more here than she had even imagined, souls of human and fal’Cie alike, enough to fuel her rage until she could at last breach the very sky and tear Lindzei Himself asunder. She opened her mouth to drink deep of their fear and despair, unsure why the girl clinging to her back still made her feel hesitation.

“No,” whispered Vanille, trying in desperation to block the deluge of suffering from her mind. She clung to Fang’s twisted form, closing her eyes and reaching into the ether in hopes of finding even the smallest mote of her partner’s essence left in the blasphemous beast she had become. “Fang, come back to me. Please! You promised!”

She found nothing, however. If Oerba Yun Fang was still in there, somewhere, she was buried so deep in the monster’s rage as to be unreachable, leaving only a burning knot of pure hatred and anger. Gone was any trace of the passion and zest for life that had defined the woman Vanille loved. This has to stop, she realized as Ragnarok continued to rampage and consume all she touched. Our Focus be damned, this is wrong! 

Anima had chosen Vanille to carry this burden because of her empathic abilities, and she shuddered to think what she would have become had Fang not stepped in to take it on instead. Even as an ordinary l’Cie, Vanille was terrified of her own power to unravel souls with only a thought, and her heart shattered as she realized what she must do. Fang is already gone, she reminded herself. This abomination cannot be suffered to live any longer.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispered, pressing her face against Ragnarok’s cold metallic skin and sobbing as she psychically tore at the festering mass of foul energy the beast had for a soul. Like most people raised in the northern provinces, Vanille had been taught to worship Hallowed Pulse alone, but in that moment, she found no comfort in that faith. Instead, she folded her fingers together in a silent, heretical prayer to Etro, Fool Goddess of the Dead, to find what was left of Fang’s soul and shepherd her to rebirth.

She offered no such prayer for herself, however. She had forsaken her Focus, and knew the consequences. Worse, she had forsaken Fang, and felt she deserved no forgiveness. Yet, even as her vision darkened and her senses faded, she felt not the all-consuming torment of becoming a Cie’th. Instead, her skin started to harden, her body stiffening and filling with a gentle warmth as she turned to crystal. 

But why? was Vanille’s final thought as she lost her grip on Ragnarok and began to fall, looking up into the sky to see an immense glowing portal to the heavens, threatening to tear open wide as thousands upon thousands of souls returned to chaos at once. She would get no answers, though. The next time she would open her eyes, she would be back in Anima’s temple, brought inside Cocoon and standing silent watch over the unsuspecting people of Bodhum as the cycle began once more.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Fang finally admitted, her face a mask of shame. Even though she had figured out the truth, she hadn’t stopped to consider the full weight of what it meant. The fact that she had nearly struck Vanille in anger began to weigh on her, doubly so upon hearing that she had nearly killed the girl when she had become Ragnarok. 

“No,” responded Vanille. “You’re right. I should have never have lied to you. If I had only been strong enough to tell the truth, maybe none of this—”

“Oh, Vanille,” she said, putting her hands on her partner’s shoulders. “My poor girl, you’ve had it so rough.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face.

“Listen, you’re not alone anymore,” Fang reassured. “I may not remember, but that doesn’t mean you have to bear that burden on your own.”

“Can you ever forgive me?” she sobbed.

In response, she simply pulled Vanille close, holding her in a tight embrace. “Keep that up and you’ll have me crying soon,” she said. “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m here, and we have a new family now. We stick together, you hear me? No more lies.”

“I promise,” said Vanille, burying her face in Fang’s chest and letting the tears flow free at last.

“Besides, if anyone should be begging forgiveness, it’s me. I love you so much, Vanille. I never want to hurt you.”

“You never would,” she said, looking up at her partner’s face and smiling through the tears. “It wasn’t you.”

Was it, though? worried Fang silently, even as she kissed Vanille tenderly on the forehead and the two of them made their way back toward the camp. If there truly was something of Ragnarok still inside her, she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t admit it, but Vanille’s tale of their final battle all those years ago terrified her. What if violence and killing is all I’m good for anymore?

* * *

Later that day, Lightning made her way back into the sheltered canyon of the base camp, sighing in frustration. She and Snow had finally met up with Sazh, who had not had any better luck, and as she approached, she spotted Fang and Vanille also waiting for them.

“You’re back!” called Vanille, sitting up from where she had been lying in Fang’s lap to wave at the others.

“Hey guys,” Fang added. “Have any luck?”

“No sign of anyone else,” replied Lightning. “But we did find plenty of bloodthirsty wildlife and crumbling ruins,” she added snarkily. 

Them too, huh? thought Fang, shaking her head slightly. Like Vanille, she wanted to believe that some remnant of civilization on Gran Pulse would have survived the aftermath of the war, but she wondered what it would even look like at this point. 

“Long day?” Vanille asked as Sazh sat next to her, groaning with fatigue.

“Oh, man,” he said. “Ain’t no beasties on Cocoon half as nasty as the monsters you got down here, that’s for sure.”

“Well, we’ve run out of places to search around here,” announced Snow. He paused a minute, looking around the camp. “Hey, where’s Hope?”

“He’s off with the chocobo, getting supplies,” said Fang.

Just as she said that, a chirp sounded from behind her, and the baby bird fluttered into the camp. It darted between the l’Cie, calling anxiously and landing on Sazh’s lap.

“You all by yourself?” he asked, as it bounced up and chittered nervously, pecking gently first at Vanille, then at Fang. 

“Huh?” wondered Vanille, scooping the chick into her hands. She couldn’t read animals’ emotions as clearly as humans, but chocobos were highly intelligent creatures, and something was clearly wrong. “What are you trying to say? Is it Hope?” The bird jumped up and down as if in agreement, fluttering back to Sazh and biting the top of his shirt.

“Hey!” said Sazh, trying to gently pull the chick away as it scratched at the brand on his chest. “What are you…?”

“Hope’s brand!” realized Vanille as she saw what the chocobo was doing.

“You mean…” Sazh started, and the bird took off again in the direction it had come from.

“We’ve gotta find him!” Snow cut in. “Come on!”

“Right,” agreed Lightning as the five of them hurriedly set out after the chocobo. Several hundred yards down the canyon, they finally spotted Hope, lying face-down on the grass in a small grove of palm trees near a waterfall.

“Oh, no!” cried Vanille as he came into view. “Is he okay?”

Lightning knelt down next to him, nervously checking for a pulse. “He’s alive,” she reassured. “Just passed out.” She peeled back the glove on his wrist, noticing the eye in the center of his brand had opened quite a bit wider than when she had last seen it. “We better get him back to camp, though.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

The l’Cie sat solemnly around their campfire, no one daring to speak a word as Hope lay motionless on a makeshift cot. Vanille leaned over him, continuously trying every healing magic she could think of, but it had been almost four hours since they had found him. Night was falling fast, and he still had not regained consciousness.

“So this is how it ends?” growled Snow at last, standing up to pace angrily around the campsite. Once more, he simply felt powerless, despair gnawing at his soul as strongly as it had immediately after Barthandelus had revealed their Focus.

Snow had watched Hope grow from a scared, confused kid who irrationally blamed him for Nora’s death, into a confident, self-reliant teenager with wisdom far beyond his years, and couldn’t accept that all his strength and resolve hadn’t been enough. After everything he had done to protect Hope and fulfill his mother’s dying wish, had it all truly been for naught? 

“Just wait,” said Sazh. “Now how long has it been since we left Cocoon? Hm? Not a single soul for miles around. Not a single clue about this whole l’Cie mess.”

“And?” snapped Snow.

“What I’m saying is that coming here was always a long shot,” he finished. “We did well just getting this far.”

“So we just give up after all? Wait to turn Cie’th?”

“Well,” Vanille interjected. “We could go a little further.”

“Meaning?” asked Sazh.

“There’s still one place,” she said, closing her eyes and remembering the idyllic scenery of her childhood. The endless sea of blossoms, stretched out like a fairytale carpet from the base of the hills to the edge of the sea. It was there that Anima had once watched over a quiet village of hunters and fishers, sitting forever in Cocoon’s shadow and home to dozens of orphans that would end up being pressed into service as l’Cie to wage war against the floating world.

“Vanille?” Fang asked, standing up and looking into her partner’s eyes. “Are you sure?” Even had the circumstances been ideal, a homecoming would be fraught with uncertainty and conflicting emotions, but they both knew their village was unlikely to still resemble the home they had once known.

“I’m sure,” she confirmed, taking a deep breath. If there was truly any possibility of shedding this curse, she was more than willing to face the demons of her past just for the chance.

“You know, if we don’t find anything this time, we won’t get another chance,” said Lightning solemnly. She had checked her own brand, which had begun to sting and itch profusely as crystal tendrils had snaked out into the veins beneath her skin, and could clearly see those of Snow and Sazh as well. All were progressing into their late stages at a rapid pace, and Vanille had been a l’Cie much longer than any of them.

“You mean Oerba, right?” came Hope’s voice as he finally began to stir. “The place it all began.”

“Hope!” cried Snow, as he and Vanille rushed to his side.

“The place where the Pulse fal’Cie lay dreaming. Vanille and Fang’s home. Just maybe,” Hope added, looking nervously at his brand, “it’ll be the place we find the answers we’re looking for.”

“Yeah, right,” grumbled Fang, looking behind her at the wreckage of the crashed airship. “If we can get there. I think we’re in the Yaschas Massif, nearly two hundred miles from the north coast.”

“In our day, a great railway connected our town all the way here to the capital city,” said Vanille wistfully. “All gone now, I suppose.”

“Go ahead without me,” said Hope, propping himself up with his elbow. He had not been injured, but even the power from his brand could not fully counteract the simple fact of biology that he needed to rest. His head was swimming with a thousand different thoughts; it had still been less than a week since his entire life had been turned upside down, and the toll the last few days had taken on him was beginning to catch up. 

“We can’t just leave you!” cried Vanille, helping him to sit up.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, trying to convince himself as much as the others. “You’ve all taught me so much—showed me how to fight.” Truthfully, he was scared to death at the thought of being left alone, but what else could he do? He was in no shape to make a two-hundred-mile trek on foot across a hostile land, and hated the idea of the others running out of time while trying to take care of him. 

At least I got to see the wonders of another world before the end, he thought, struggling to his feet and desperately trying to hide his weakness. His muscles gave out, however, and Snow caught him just as he was about to fall over once more, all pretense gone in an instant.

“Hey, hey, what did I tell you?” said Snow, supporting him and pulling him into a hug. “Leave the fighting to me.”

“I’m scared,” admitted Hope, his lips quivering as he fought back tears.

“We understand,” Lightning reassured him, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You’re not gonna go through this ordeal alone, you know.” She gently pulled his chin up, smiling at him.

“But that’s what scares me!” he added. “I don’t… I don’t want to see you get hurt because of me.” He closed his eyes, sobbing into his hand and shaking off terrible images of her, Snow, Vanille, and Sazh all turning into Cie’th because he was too weak to make the journey to Oerba. “It would be better for everyone if I just stayed behind.” That way I can bear the burden of my weakness alone, he thought. 

Hope imagined the scene, picturing living alone in the empty campsite for days as he slowly lost his mind and turned into a stone monster, while the others would continue on together, and his brand began to burn as the anguish overtook him. Lightning and Snow stumbled back as a bright light burst forth from him, forming into a summoning circle on the ground.

For the second time since his branding, pure light coalesced around Hope into pistons and gears as the Eidolon Alexander took shape, standing menacingly over him this time as a great suit of mechanical armor as the others were thrown back by a powerful burst of steam. Two days earlier, Hope realized, the entity had begun to manifest when he had been about to kill Snow, only to be blasted aside by a PSICOM air strike. 

Eidolons come to put us out of our misery, he remembered, thinking of Fang’s words when Bahamut had come for her back on Cocoon. She had conquered his trial, just as Lightning had conquered Odin, but what could a weak, confused kid like him do? Maybe it’s for the best, he thought, looking Alexander in his great metal face and almost daring him to end it all. At least death would be better than becoming a Cie’th.

“Mention ordeals, and look what comes along!” snarked Fang as she and Lightning rushed in front of Hope to shield him just in time. As they did, a large piece of twisted metal from the airship’s bulkhead crashed down behind them, blocking the other three from helping.

“No,” countered Lightning, refusing to let him give in to despair. “This is not an ordeal. This is a gift! Hope, this is the kind of power you’ve got inside, and it’s telling you not to give up!”

“Oh, I get it,” agreed Fang, drawing her lance. Facing Bahamut had granted her a renewed outlook, and Hecatoncheir had forced Vanille to come clean about her memories. “It’s here to show you the way! Show you that you’ve got what it takes to get back on your feet and do this thing!”

“You mean, that came from me?” asked Hope incredulously. Cocoon’s civilization knew little about the origin of the Eidolons, as there had previously not been l’Cie on the world for five centuries. Fang had said they came from Etro, a goddess whose name was nearly unknown on Cocoon. But even if they did have a divine origin, he had never thought about the power one must have in order to summon and control one.

He looked up at Alexander once more, fear and despair turning to awe. The being’s face was imposing, yet gentle at the same time, reflecting the same kindness and will to fight that Hope had begun to embody. Standing steadfast, Hope took hold of the Airwing and stepped forward, steeling himself for battle. He cried out in shock as Alexander claimed his soul for the challenge, but did not falter.

“You ready?” Lightning asked.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, summoning shields around them as the Eidolon reared back with a mighty punch.

“Show him what you’re made of!” said Fang, holding her lance up to block the blow. Alexander’s right fist, then left rocketed out in quick succession, both of them exploding on impact and knocking Hope and Lightning off their feet even as Fang stood firm.

“This is my power!” Hope yelled, standing up once more and channeling healing energy into a cloud that settled over them. To impress Alexander, he realized however, he would need to do more than simply support the other two. Fang and Lightning were already experienced warriors, and he knew the Eidolon would only submit if he could prove he was able to stand alongside them as equals on the battlefield.

Alright, here goes, he thought, whipping the air in the canyon into a miniature storm, pelting Alexander with thunderbolts, hailstones, and gale-force winds until the great mechanical knight began to lose his balance. 

“Oh, you’re gonna squirm!” cried Fang as she leapt into the air, striking him over and over until he stumbled backwards, lurching dangerously as Lightning drew forth geysers of water from underneath. Alexander twisted around, however, winding himself up with a soaring uppercut into the earth, sending the three of them flying into the air. Before they even hit the ground, the Eidolon’s other fist shot out to knock Hope skyward again.

“Aah!” he screamed in pain and shock. The impact had shattered his spine; he should have been paralyzed at the least, but the crystal fibers that extended from his brand throughout his body had become sturdy enough to reinforce him against such punishment. Blinking blood out of his eyes, he reached blindly in agony for where the Airwing had fallen, but to no avail.

“Hope!” cried Lightning, picking up the electronic boomerang and handing it to him as she helped him to his feet, willing his bones to knit back together as he forced himself to stand despite the pain.

“I’m okay,” he reassured, taking a deep breath. “Some things you just do, right?”

“Right,” she said, smiling proudly.

“Then I’ll face it head on,” he announced, stepping forward once more. “Light, Fang, you ready?”

“Bring it on!” agreed Fang.

“Hit him with everything you’ve got!” he called out, igniting the grass under Alexander’s feet and whipping the flames into an inferno, while Lightning simultaneously condensed the air above him into frost. Fang quickly followed up with a sphere of gravity that collapsed with enough force to buckle the Eidolon’s armor, and Hope raised his fist in defiance.

This was what Alexander was looking for. Hope was no longer a child, but a warrior in his own right, capable of standing firm and even leading others in battle, keeping a cool head no matter the odds. The entity instantly released Hope’s soul, great metal bulwarks rising from the ground on either side of him as he began to transform. His arms folded down, unfurling into a spiked palisade as another set of parapets descended from the sky, forming a massive rampart of steel and steam that Hope deftly climbed atop, ready to command.

This is the power I have inside, he thought to himself, jumping down in exhilaration. Alexander slowly faded into a glowing crystal star, disappearing inside Hope’s brand as if he had never been there.

“That’s some beast you tamed, I’ll tell you that,” said Sazh, as he and Snow were finally able to shove the fallen wreckage aside. 

“The Eidolon of Light,” said Vanille, smiling at Hope. “The legends say Alexander only appears for those l’Cie of the purest heart.” 

“I guess I thought the Eidolons appeared to set us free through death,” mused Hope, thinking back on the previous times he had seen one manifest. “But now, I wonder if they’re here instead to snap us out of our slumps.” After all, had Odin not stepped in to force Lightning not to abandon him? Or Bahamut to keep Fang from turning on the rest of them? 

“Oh, like the one you were just in?” joked Snow, putting his arm on Hope’s shoulder.

“I’ll ask for help earlier next time around,” he said. “I promise.” The last time Alexander had nearly appeared, Hope realized, had not been to put him out of his misery. It had been to force him to his senses and stop him from killing Snow. He almost couldn’t believe he had been so stupid, closing his eyes and thinking in horror of what he had almost done. Snow had become as a big brother to him in the two short days since then, and he didn’t even want to imagine what would have happened had he succeeded.

“I told you,” said Vanille, giggling as she scooped him into a hug. “On Gran Pulse, we’re all family. You can moan all you like, but you’re stuck with us!”

“You’re never alone in hell!” added Sazh with a chuckle, clapping him on the back.

“Hey listen, funnyman,” snarked Fang, glaring at Sazh. “Don’t call this place ‘hell,’ all right? This is our home, just as Cocoon is yours.”

“All right, all right,” he conceded, putting his hands up in supplication. “Sheesh.”

“So, we’re all decided then?” asked Lightning. “If we’re gonna try to make it to Oerba, we need to be in this together.”

The six l’Cie shared determined glances, knowing this would likely be their most difficult journey yet, but each of them nodded in turn. “Yep,” said Vanille, smiling as Fang pulled her close.

“We set out first thing tomorrow, then,” said Lightning. “Let’s rest up while we can.”

* * *

“It sure feels good to finally be able to relax,” said Vanille, setting out with Fang a little ways away from the others to the pond where they had found Hope earlier. Even though they had slept relatively well the previous night, it wasn’t until now that she at last felt at ease, having shed the final secret she had kept from Fang for so long. She slipped off her shoes, sitting at the edge of the water and dipping her feet in.

“Yeah,” replied her partner uneasily, still pacing back and forth. Vanille had finally cleared her conscience, but now it was Fang whose mind was restless.

“What is it, Fang?”

She sighed; there would be little point in her trying to keep a secret from Vanille. “I was just thinking about what you told me,” she admitted. “That Ragnarok is still inside me. How can you… Vanille, how can you still trust me?”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I?”

“You said yourself I haven’t been the same,” continued Fang. “How do you know I won’t turn on you again?”

“Oh, Fang,” said Vanille, reaching for her hand and pulling her down to the ground next to her. “I just know.” 

Fang sat down, but still kept her distance. “How can I trust me?” she muttered, shaking her head. “You said I nearly killed you. If I had…” She didn’t even want to think about it, but the images came unbidden to her mind anyway. Completing her damned Focus and turning to crystal, frozen in time forever in horror and loneliness, knowing that she had killed the one person she loved more than anything else in the world.

“But you didn’t,” insisted Vanille. “Even then, in the midst of it all, there was still enough of you left to stay that rage.” She sidled up next to Fang, putting her arm around her and resting her head on her shoulder. “I didn’t tell you to make you stay away from me. I told you because all my secrets and lies were keeping us apart!”

“I’m scared,” Fang admitted. “And you know I don’t scare easy.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” she admonished. “Maybe I’m scared too, but that doesn’t change anything. You’re a part of me now; that will never change. I won’t let it come between us.”

“If only I could remember. Then…at least I’d know what to watch out for, or something!”

“I wish I could forget,” said Vanille. “Some things are better off forgotten. Please, Fang. Let’s leave it in the past where it belongs. Let’s make some new memories, instead.” She gently undid the buckles on her partner’s boots, sliding them off and placing her feet into the pond with her. With everything that had happened, they had not had the chance to be together since awakening on Cocoon, and Vanille didn’t want to risk running out of time.

Fang resisted at first, but quickly relented as she knew there was no denying Vanille when she set her mind to something. Together, they slipped off their clothes and stepped into the cool, refreshing water, finally allowing themselves the simple pleasure of each other’s company away from prying eyes. She froze momentarily as she saw the brand on Vanille’s thigh once more, marring her perfect skin and having progressed yet again toward its final stage.

“Shh,” whispered Vanille, putting her finger over Fang’s lips and turning her head to look into her eyes instead. “I don’t want you to think about that.”

“But, Vanille…”

“No,” she insisted. “No matter what happens, let us just have tonight. Pretend they never took me away, we never fought in that damned war. There’s just you, and me, and right now.” She let her hair out of the pigtails she always wore, diving momentarily under the water and letting it soak in as she surfaced.

“By the gods, you are beautiful,” admitted Fang, sighing as she saw her partner perfectly lit in the starlight, thinking back to their first time together so many years ago; a night just like this one when they had lain amidst the flowers under the windmills on the outskirts of Oerba, and they knew their lives would never be the same again.

How perfect it had been back then, before Mother’s disapproving glares, before the priests had attempted to turn the townsfolk against them, before that fateful morning when she had woken up to find Vanille missing amidst the news that war had broken out with Cocoon. Perhaps she is right, she thought. Whatever happens, we have right now.

She closed her eyes momentarily, drawing power from her own brand to slow the passage of time around them. The droplets from the waterfall held in midair, and a pair of bioluminescent moths that fluttered nearby ceased their movement, lending a dreamlike quality to everything around them. For once, she was going to make there be enough time, for a memory not even Ragnarok would be able to take away.

Chapter Text

THIRTY-EIGHT

As the first rays of sunlight began to filter through the trees, Vanille gently stirred. She and Fang lay entwined together on the shore of the pond, Fang’s blue satin sari acting as a makeshift blanket over them both. Even the magic of a l’Cie couldn’t make time stop forever, and they both knew they would have to face reality once more.

No matter what else happened, at least all her secrets wouldn’t be able to come between the two of them again. She sighed in bliss and relief, drawing strength from their night together to accept whatever lay ahead, and sat up, getting dressed as Fang woke up beside her.

The others’ camp was a flurry of activity as they returned, the mood both desperate and excited as the six of them prepared for the long journey ahead. There was a slight awkward silence as they approached, but no one faulted them for wanting some private time after all they had been through. 

Lightning had salvaged several ancient bottles from amidst the airship wreckage to fashion into makeshift canteens, and was in the process of boiling water to sterilize it as the others searched for food.

“Catch!” shouted Snow as he returned, tossing her a slightly underripe banana. 

“Hm,” she grunted, deftly snatching it out of the air. “So, what do you think we’ll find out there?”

“We’ll have to cross the Archylte Steppe,” Fang told them as they all gathered. “Head towards Cocoon to go north, but those plains are vast, and there wasn’t a lot of civilization on them even in our day.”

“Right,” said Lightning. “Everybody take one, and try to conserve,” she added, gesturing to the water bottles. “It might not be easy to find more.”

“If only we had chocobos,” mused Vanille. “That would make things so much easier!”

“We can do this,” Hope reassured her. “Together.”

“Right,” she agreed, smiling, and together they set off on their journey.

* * *

Within a mile, the canyon began to widen, the walls receding completely and revealing an expanse of open grassland that stretched as far as the eye could see, marred only by occasional rocky outcroppings and deep crevices. A pack of wolf-like gorgonopsids ran past, chasing down some unseen prey, and the ground shook with the footsteps of a building-sized adamantoise in the distance. The only landmark they would be able to rely on from this point forward was Cocoon, clearly visible in the northern sky.

“Wow…” mused Hope, stopping in his tracks at the enormity of the scene.

“Makes Cocoon feel like a chocobo coop,” agreed Lightning.

“Is that…?” Vanille started to say, darting off to inspect a curious stone effigy that lay on the ground. “This stone, it’s…”

“Look familiar?” asked Lightning, peering at what appeared to be a carving of a figure cradling a crystal.

“It’s a kind of Cie’th,” explained Fang. “It’s in the last stage.”

“A Cie’th?” Lightning said warily, her hand on the Blazefire Saber.

“Don’t worry,” Vanille reassured. “It’s no threat to anyone anymore. L’Cie who fail their Focus become Cie’th, and wander the wilds,” she added sorrowfully. “Eventually, they lose the will to go on, and turn to stone. But still, even in this state, they can’t forget the task they once had.”

“And they call out to l’Cie,” finished Fang, “over and over, ‘complete my Focus.’”

“So they’re…doomed to eternal regret, huh?” Sazh mused, his face grim. “That’s pretty horrible.”

“Eternal regret…” began Vanille, bending down to gently touch the stone figure. Instantly, it rose up off the ground, startling them all as it floated in midair and began to emit a soft glow. “Aah!” she shrieked as the emotions it carried suddenly flooded forth into her mind.

“Vanille!” shouted Fang, reaching for her.

“The Undying stalk the land,” came a twisted, reverberating voice from Vanille’s lips as an unseen force seemed to take possession of her. “They must…be stopped. I must…put an end…to…”

Fang grabbed her and roughly pulled her away from the stone. “Vanille!”

“Ugh,” she moaned, slowly coming back to her senses as her hand broke contact with the Cie’th. “I’m okay,” she added reassuringly, sensing Fang’s terror.

“What was that?” asked Hope, stepping back in fear.

“The Cie’th,” Fang surmised. “It must’ve tried to use her empathic power as a conduit of some sort. Gods dammit, that was reckless! Don’t worry me like that,” she scolded, hugging Vanille tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But we can’t just leave him here!”

“Do you even know what its Focus was?” asked Lightning.

“I saw it,” she confirmed. “Another Cie’th, but different. Terrible, ancient, unwilling to accept his fate. Oh gods, it was… It was his best friend!”

“A fal’Cie made someone hunt his own friend?” asked Hope incredulously.

“Does it really surprise you?” Sazh replied. 

“I guess not, after all we’ve seen.”

“He was made a l’Cie first,” Vanille explained. “His name was Geiseric, and he never wanted to hurt anybody, but…”

“Hmph,” muttered Fang. “And when he didn’t do what he was supposed to, the fal’Cie conscripted his friend to stop the rampaging monster he became, right? A tale as old as time.” That’s gonna be me if we don’t find anything, she knew.

“Yeah,” admitted Vanille. “He wants…he wants it to be over, though. He wants us to finish it for him.”

“Then let’s do it!” said Snow. “Come on, we can’t just ignore him! Listen, if we fail our Focus, it could be us suffering like that.”

“Wow, what a happy thought,” Sazh snarked. “That’s not like you.”

“No,” agreed Lightning. “But going out of his way to help someone? That’s Snow all over.”

“How will we even know where to find this Geiseric?” asked Hope.

“Uh, guys, I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” warned Snow, his eyes drawn to the edge of a nearby cliff as an enormous crystalline hand began to reach up from below.

“Look alive!” Lightning shouted as the hand gripped the top of the cliff with enough force to make the ground shudder.

“Guess we’ve got no choice now,” grumbled Fang, readying her spear as a gargantuan Cie’th nearly three stories tall began to climb out of the ravine below. 

“Didn’t know they made Cie’th that big,” Sazh muttered, stumbling back as it stood up to its full height and let out an unearthly roar.

Vanille screamed, trying in vain to block out the flood of emotion from the tormented being. “The pain! It’s too much!”

“Stay back!” Fang cautioned. “I’ll deal with this one. You want some?” she taunted, standing firm as the Cie’th jumped into the air and landed with enough force to knock all six of them back.

With its thick crystal carapace, it seemed to effortlessly shrug off blows and bullets, raising one of its colossal fists and delivering a strike that would have flattened an ordinary human. Fang rolled out of the way at the last second, and dirt flew in all directions as it smashed a small crater into the ground where she had been standing.

“What do we do?” shouted Hope, regaining his balance and hurriedly sheltering them with magical shields.

“Time for another approach,” Lightning called out, holding up her right hand and forming a miniature singularity that began to pull on its internal organs. “Ignore the shell! It’s still vulnerable on the inside.”

The inside! thought Hope, tossing a ball of conjured fire onto the grass and throwing the Airwing to fan it into an inferno. Just as he expected, the Cie’th was still susceptible to heat, and lurched backwards to escape the flames. In response, however, it began to channel pure magic into its fist, countering Lightning’s singularity with one of its own.

“Watch out!” warned Snow, diving in front of the others as Geiseric struck the ground once more, this time pulling them in to its destructive radius as it did. “Aagh!” he cried, crushed between the massive crystalline fist and the hard earth.

“Snow!” screamed Hope, desperately bolstering his body with magic as the Cie’th tried to grind him into the dirt.

“That fist is gonna be a problem!” said Fang, thrusting her lance between its stone fingers and throwing her weight against it, attempting to pry it off of Snow. He tried to climb out from underneath it, but its gravitational pull was too strong, and he remained stuck fast as Geiseric began to raise the fist for another blow.

“Hey!” yelled Sazh, summoning a hurricane-force gale from behind the Cie’th, finally loosening its pull on Snow enough that he tumbled back to the ground. “You okay?”

“I ain’t goin’ down!” he reassured, clambering to his feet and snapping his fingers, causing the fist to flash-freeze in midair. Suddenly brittle, the rocky shell of Geiseric’s arm began to crack under its own gravity, and the Cie’th shuddered in pain.

The gravitational force dissipated, but it wasn’t nearly enough to stop Geiseric’s onslaught, and Vanille continued to watch helplessly, frozen in anguish as it began to pummel them again. You have to do this, she told herself. Even he wants this to end. She could see the man’s soul clearly within the monstrosity he had become, a shining beacon of light amidst the roiling miasma of pain that had consumed him centuries ago. One tug, and it will all be over.

“Aaah!” Fang screamed as Geiseric effortlessly swatted her aside like a rag doll, and the Cie’th turned its uncontrolled rampage on Hope next, lifting its enormous foot to squash him like a bug. Snow rushed in, holding the foot up with all his might to give Hope time to get clear, but even his considerable strength was beginning to fail.

“Stop this!” cried Vanille in vain, as if the man Geiseric had been could still hear her, but she knew he couldn’t. There was only one way to end this. The color began to drain out of her face as she released her hold on the terrible power within, flooding what rudimentary consciousness the Cie’th had with a torrent of darkness until it began to dissolve into raw chaos, and for a split second, Vanille felt something else amidst the pure hatred and anguish. 

The man’s soul flared for just a moment, pushing back against the forces that had kept him bound for so long. He had forgotten so much over the centuries, but even as a hollow shell of who he used to be, he understood what was happening. So much destruction had followed in his wake, so many lives lost in his mindless rampage, all because he had wanted to escape his fate.

Just like me, Vanille knew. She saw the images of death and ruin that had come of his refusal, adding even more weight to that which she already carried, and she collapsed to the ground as his soul finally came loose from its stone prison. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as it, too, began to dissipate.

Geiseric’s fading consciousness, however, seemed to finally be at peace as the hulking monster he had been trapped in fell backwards, emitting an inhuman roar in its death throes. Thank you, he almost seemed to say in the last moment before he was gone, and Vanille burst out sobbing.

No sooner had the Cie’th thudded to the ground, however, than a wave of magic burst forth from its demise, and Vanille looked on in horror as dozens of inert Cie’th stones like the one she had found began to rise from where they lay scattered across the plains, each one beckoning silently to her. Complete my Focus. Complete my Focus. Complete my Focus.

“No!” she screamed, taking off running in the opposite direction. There were just too many, each one with a Focus crueler and more insane than the last. Husbands made to hunt their wives, parents tasked with slaying their own children, innocent people conscripted into twisted games for seemingly no reason other than the fal’Cies’ amusement.

“Vanille!” came Fang’s worried voice from behind her as she followed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, stopping and crying silently into her hands. “It’s too much. We can’t possibly save them all.”

“No, we can’t,” Fang admitted, holding her close. “We have to press on.”

“I know that,” agreed Vanille. “I know! But why? Why are there so many? Their Focuses…they’re not even about Cocoon anymore. It’s all just so pointless!”

“Life has never been fair,” said Fang. “You know that as well as I do. But don’t forget why we came back here. If we can find a way, even just for the six of us, that’s a miracle. The way I see it, we owe it to them all to prove it can be done. Maybe it’s too late for them, but it’s not too late for us. It’s not too late for those that might come after us.”

“You’re right,” she said, taking a deep breath.

“You okay?” asked Hope as the others caught up. “You can hear them, can’t you?”

“Yeah,” Vanille said, steeling her resolve to block out the voices again. “I’ll be okay, though. Really!” She buried the pain once more under a smile, but things were different now. She wasn’t lying anymore, and she wasn’t running away. She was pressing on in the hope of a better future, and that made all the difference.

THIRTY-NINE

“You’ve got to be ready to drop by now,” Snow said to Hope as they continued on. “Don’t overdo it.”

“I won’t,” he reassured. “I know my limits, unlike some people.”

“Oh-ho!” remarked Snow. “Now who’s the tough guy—whoa!” He jumped back, startled, as an immense flying shape swooped in low from behind them.

Nearly a hundred feet long in total, it bore a mask-like visage and a pair of clawed hands, with a shell of metal and crystal on its back, and a long segmented tail made of unsettling sculpted faces interspersed with immense glittering pearls. All six of them could feel the intense aura of pure malice radiating off of it in waves as it circled around them once, then gracefully flew off as quickly as it had come.

“What…was that?” wondered Snow, slightly flabbergasted.

“Dahaka,” said Fang solemnly. “A Gran Pulse fal’Cie. Used to see it flying around all the time. It had a home near Oerba.”

“So, that’s good news, right?” asked Hope. “If we stay on its tail, we should end up in your village. Let’s follow it!”

Vanille nodded. She couldn’t argue with his logic, but of all the fal’Cie on Gran Pulse, Dahaka had always scared her the most in its callous disregard for other lifeforms. “Right,” she said. “Just…not too closely.”

“That’s not going to be a problem,” snarked Lightning, as it had already disappeared beyond the far horizon. “We’ll be lucky if we see it again before we get there.”

“Wait a minute,” interjected Sazh, wrinkling his nose at a familiar odor. “You all smell that?”

“Smell what?” asked Hope.

“Oh!” exclaimed Vanille, taking off running along a stream into a small ravine. The canyon widened out, revealing a lush pond where a waterfall tumbled down from the hills above. An entire flock of chocobos were gathered around the shore, facing off against a pair of fish-like sahagin that had come out of the water to hunt.

“I knew it!” said Sazh, following her. His small pet fluttered out of his hair, chirping anxiously. “Hey, you—ooh, looks like somebody needs a hand!” he added as he noticed that one of the birds had been separated from the flock and cornered by the sahagin.

“Be careful!” warned Vanille as he stepped in to defend the straggler. No sooner had Sazh come between the sahagin and their would-be prey, however, than a school of amphibious ceratosaurs climbed out of the water as well, akin to piranhas with legs and eyeing him hungrily.

“Hey!” yelled Fang, throwing a magical sphere that exploded in the middle of the fray, knocking the creatures back and getting their attention. “Watch it, don’t underestimate these nasties,” she told him. Immediately, they began incessantly pecking at her, each one only an annoyance individually, but their numbers quickly threatened to overwhelm her.

“Fish in a barrel!” joked Sazh, opening fire into the swarm of beasts and quickly culling several of the smaller ones, but for each one he took out, two more seemed to take its place. “Sheesh! They just keep coming,” he grumbled, as one of the larger sahagin turned around to face him, and spat a glob of sticky, glue-like mucus that drenched his clothes and slowed his movements. “Ugh!”

“Vanille!” Fang called out, backing away to lure the walking fish back toward the water.

“Got it!” she replied, using her magic to leech the viscous liquid from the fibers of Sazh’s jacket until it sloughed off onto the ground.

“Thanks!” he said, brushing himself off and shooting the sahagin point-blank in revenge. “Try one of these!” he muttered as the smaller fish-monsters swarmed around Fang, conjuring a massive arc of electricity that roiled through the water, leaving them twitching and floating on the surface as they died. 

“You did it!” exclaimed Vanille as the chocobo Sazh had saved let out a relieved cry, nodding toward him as if to thank him.

“Yeah, a few minutes later and you woulda been plucked,” he said, smiling back at the enormous yellow bird. “But man, remind me not to go fishing around here!”

The tiny chick poked its head out of Sazh’s hair once more, calling out to the rest of the flock, and they came running, surrounding him and nearly deafening him with a cacophony of grateful chirps and warbles.

“Whoa, are you kidding me?” he laughed, almost able to forget his troubles in the sea of feathered friends he had made. “Hey, look what we got here,” he said to his pet as he noticed several wild chicks roosting in a patch of grass. “New friends, huh? Why don’t you go say ‘hi?’”

They were slightly larger and darker yellow than the one that accompanied him, but they seemed to take to each other instantly, cheeping and chittering happily as they played.

“You keep growing like that, you’ll be bigger than me before long, won’t you,” he continued, sighing and wondering if this wild flock couldn’t give his pet a better home than he could. “Maybe it’d be best to just say goodbye here.” 

The chick let out an indignant tweet, however, taking wing and pecking him sharply on the nose in protest.

“Hey, come on!” he cried, holding up his hands in supplication. “Jeesh! Come on, I was just kidding!”

The baby bird squeaked back as if in forgiveness, settling onto his shoulder and looking up at the sky with him where Cocoon floated, perfectly framed against the cliffs.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, realizing his mistake and sitting on the ground to take in the view. “You’re sticking with me till Dajh wakes up. Could be a long wait, though,” he warned. “No one knows.” The chick chirruped in agreement, burrowing back into its cozy nesting spot in his hair, and he sighed once more. 

“Huh?” he grunted as he noticed from the corner of his eye that Fang was still standing behind him. “Hey!” he cried, scrambling to his feet in embarrassment. “What are you… You watching me, or something? Say something, or…something!”

She shrugged, sauntering over. “Didn’t want to interrupt,” she finally admitted. “And, you know… I didn’t quite know where to begin.” Vanille had said very little to her about what had happened while she and Sazh were on the run together, but Fang had pieced together the most important parts, and she could no longer shake the feeling of responsibility. 

“You don’t have to begin anywhere,” he reassured, holding up his hand. He had already reconciled the past with Vanille, and saw no reason to continue holding a grudge against either of them anymore. “What happened to Dajh wasn’t your fault. You’ve got more than enough weight on your shoulders already.” 

“But, Sazh…”

“It was my fault at Euride,” he insisted. “Letting Dajh out of my sight like that? That one’s on me.”

“And you’re just gonna deal with that on your own?” asked Fang. “Is that it?”

“I don’t have to!” joked Sazh, gesturing to his hair as the chocobo chick peeked out once more. “I got this guy! And you’ve got Vanille. You weren’t alone. That kept you going, didn’t it?”

“It did at that,” she admitted, smiling slightly as she looked over to where Vanille was playfully splashing around with the chocobos at the edge of the pond. “Still,” she added as she saw Snow and Lightning approaching with Hope in tow. “We’ve caused no end of trouble since we woke up on Cocoon, and if there’s anything we can do to make up for it…”

“Uh-uh,” he insisted. “Vanille told me some of what happened to you two back then. How you ended up on Cocoon. Y’know, I lost my wife in a fire, right after Dajh was born. What you two have, that’s a precious gift. Don’t squander that. If I’d have been in your shoes, I probably woulda done the same thing. Ah…listen to me. Trying to act all parenty again.”

“Well, don’t give up,” said Fang, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re getting the hang of it. Really. Your son’s a lucky kid.”

Sazh let out another sigh, tears coming to his eyes as Fang walked away. Just keep believing, he told himself. He will wake up, and you will see him again. Somehow.

“Hey!” came Vanille’s voice from the pond’s shore, where several of the chocobos had let her get close enough to pet them. “They seem pretty grateful for our help. I wonder if they’ll let us ride them?”

“You sure that’s safe?” asked Hope. He had been chocobo riding once several years ago at a summer camp, but those birds had been tame and he had been supervised the whole time by a counselor. “They won’t like…peck us or anything, will they?”

“You won’t, right?” Vanille said to the nearest bird. “One, two, and up we go!” she exclaimed, deftly climbing on its back. It let out a cry, slightly surprised, but quickly calmed down as she gently petted it on the head. “See? This’ll sure make things easier!”

“Go ahead!” reassured Fang, clambering onto another. “We used to do this all the time!”

“All right,” said Lightning, gingerly approaching another one. She had never been good with animals, but the birds seemed to understand as she mounted one.

“Welp, ‘when on Pulse’ and all that, I guess,” said Sazh, and he, Snow, and Hope scrambled onto steeds of their own.

“All right!” giggled Vanille. “Now we don’t have to walk the whole way!”

* * *

Riding on chocobo-back, the l’Cie set out across the plains once more, covering nearly ten times the ground they would have been able to on their own, and easily outrunning even the steppe’s most vicious predators. Gradually, the landscape began to change, with more deep canyons and sharp mesas replacing the rolling hills as they pressed on, until the steppe eventually gave way to a range of mountains, and the open countryside quickly became a narrow trail between steep cliffs.

Lightning’s chocobo stopped suddenly, letting out a cry, and roughly threw her off its back, taking off running in the other direction. “Whoa,” she said, nimbly landing on her feet, but held up her hand for the others to stop. “Something’s wrong.” She could feel a faint vibration coming through the ground, and heard the sounds of machinery in the distance.

Ahead, the trail snaked even deeper into the canyon, and disappeared into an artificially excavated tunnel at the bottom. “The mines of Mah’habara,” said Fang, dismounting her chocobo. “Not that many ways through these mountains. We’ll have to walk from here.”

“Thanks for the ride!” said Vanille as she and the others left their chocobos behind and approached the tunnel.

“If the mine is still active, does that mean there could be people here?” asked Hope.

“Could be,” said Fang. “A lot of it was automated in our day, though. Be on your toes. If it has been left unattended, there’s no telling what the sentry bots will do.”

“Right,” Lightning agreed. Cautiously, the six of them made their way inside, noticing the rusted metal ceiling supports and flickering yellow lights, and realizing they were probably not going to be so lucky as to find anyone. “Heads up,” she warned, rounding a corner and noticing a pair of bright orange robots blocking the way.

“You gonna let us through?” wondered Vanille, slowly stepping forward. In response, they turned around in synchronized lockstep, marching toward her and raising their heavily-plated arms to strike.

“Of course not,” grumbled Sazh, drawing his guns. “Why would anything be easy, huh?”

“Hey!” yelled Fang, jamming her spear into the inner workings of one of the machines and twisting with all her might. “Back under your rock!”

The robot slowed and stumbled with a sound of groaning metal as its central joint was bent out of alignment, but it did not stop. “Take this!” shouted Lightning, electrifying the blade of her saber and slicing into its internal wiring until it shuddered, its circuits overloaded, and finally came to a halt.

Snow punched the second one with a supercooled fist, cracking its armor and encasing it in ice, immobilizing it long enough for Vanille to short it out with another bolt of electricity. They continued past until the passage widened out into a sizable cavern, daylight filtering in through a gap in the ceiling above.

FORTY

Several roughly-hewn tunnels converged on one point where they stood, seemingly excavated in random directions, and the vibration in the ground was getting stronger.

“I’m glad I’m not here alone,” mused Vanille. “This place is kind of creepy.”

“Ah, but it reminds me of our adventures together!” Fang reminded her. “You had fun too in places like this, back then.” She strode up to the edge of the rusty metal platform they stood on, inspecting the tunnels beyond. “A Gran Pulse fal’Cie made these paths,” she told the others.

“Yep! Atomos. I bet it’s off digging more tunnels right now,” Vanille added.

“They seem different from all the fal’Cie we’ve seen on Cocoon,” said Hope, looking out off the edge of the platform. Debris littered the bottom of the tunnels, including metal scraps broken off of the mine supports and several pieces of destroyed sentry robots like the ones that had attacked them. “It’s like they just plow through, without caring what happens around them.”

“That’s true,” admitted Fang. “They’re all very individual, unlike the strict hegemony they seem to have on Cocoon. Our village was built on land cleared by fal’Cie, though, and these mines were constructed to harvest the mineral deposits that Atomos exposed in its digging. We lived alongside them, just as you do on Cocoon.”

“Oh yeah,” said Sazh sarcastically. “This is just like Cocoon!”

“In a world this big, who knows what we’ll find,” quipped Lightning, setting off down a staircase leading deeper into the mine. More malfunctioning sentry robots seemed to lurk around every corner as they continued, as well as stranger adversaries such as semi-organic mining explosives that had seemingly taken on a rudimentary intelligence, and mutated gelatinous flans made of living rust that had seemingly evolved over the centuries in the mine’s forgotten depths.

The air grew dank and stale the deeper they went, and as the strange vibrations in the rocks continued to increase, Lightning couldn’t help but wonder if they were not simply headed for a dead end. “You sure this is the right way?” she finally asked.

“There was a northern entrance back in our day,” explained Fang. “As to whether it’s still there…”

“We can only hope,” finished Vanille. The vibrations grew sharply as they began to cross a rickety metal bridge over an underground ravine, causing the l’Cie to lose their balance. 

“Well, guys? Heads up!” Snow called out, as an enormous spherical machine appeared in the chasm below, cutting its way through the solid rock with a spinning sawblade and headed straight for them at staggering speed. “Whoa! Look at that thing! Let me guess; that’s the fal’Cie?”

“Yep, that’s Atomos,” confirmed Vanille, as it streaked past them under the bridge, shaking it unnervingly. “Busy carving out new tunnels.”

“Making roads where roads ain’t meant to go, huh?” Snow mused. “Kinda sounds like us. All right! Roly-poly! Hey, I wonder if we can’t hitch a ride on that thing?”

“Now you’re thinking Gran Pulse style!” said Vanille with a smile. Unlike Dahaka or the fal’Cie of Cocoon, she sensed no malevolence from Atomos. It seemed carefree, almost playful as it carved its way through the depths of the mountain toward some unknown destination.

“Uh, you sure about that?” wondered Sazh. “Not too keen on bein’ a stain on the ceiling down here.”

“We’ll never know unless we try,” said Lightning. “First we’ll have to catch up with it. Let’s go.”

“Not to mention get it to stop for a minute,” added Hope. “What’s it digging for, anyway?” he asked as they pressed on.

“No one really knows,” said Vanille. “It combs the earth all over, though. They used to say there wasn’t a spot on Gran Pulse its tunnels didn’t reach.”

“‘A way to reach the Maker’s realm…’” quoted Lightning, thinking back to Cid’s explanation of the fal’Cies’ purpose. “Remember what General Raines said?”

“That makes sense,” Fang agreed. “Explains a lot of things the fal’Cie did, actually.”

Nearly an hour later, they finally reached the dead end Lightning had been worried about. Several inactive dreadnoughts sat parked on a platform where the walkway came to an abrupt stop, leaving a steep drop down to the raw burrows carved by Atomos.

“No way through?” asked Sazh. “Man, that fal’Cie must have been slacking!”

“Hmm,” muttered Lightning, inspecting their surroundings. In theory, they could jump down and continue in the bare tunnel, but the sharp, uneven rocks would make slow going, and if Atomos were to come through at full speed, there would be no getting out of the way in time.

Meanwhile, Hope was taking a closer look at the dormant dreadnoughts. I wonder, he thought, thinking back to his last attempt to pilot one. Against his better judgment, he scrambled up into the saddle of the nearest one, pushing the same lever he had used to start the one on Cocoon. The ancient machine lurched to life, marching slowly but steadily toward the edge of the platform. “Aaah!” he cried out, pushing levers and buttons to no avail to try and control it. “Wait! Stop already!”

“Ugh, it’s the Vile Peaks all over again,” grumbled Lightning as she noticed. The dreadnought teetered precariously on the rim for a moment, then plowed straight through the flimsy railing and finally thudded to the ground in the tunnel below. Hope tumbled unceremoniously from his seat onto the rocks, momentarily stunned from the impact. “Hope! Get out of there!”

As Lightning had feared, the vibration from Atomos’s incessant digging began to grow stronger once more, and the fal’Cie burst through the rock face less than a hundred yards from where Hope lay as he began to stir, careening straight for him at breakneck speed.

“Aaagh!” he screamed again, clambering to his feet as he noticed it, but there was nowhere he could get to in time that would be out of its path. Just when it seemed like the fal’Cie would crush him where he stood, the dreadnought whirred to life once more, its programming directing it to protect its pilot, and it jumped forward of its own accord, raising its heavy claws to bar Atomos’s path.

The fal’Cie slammed into the robot at full speed, and the robot’s claws snagged on either side of Atomos’s central sawblade, momentarily halting it with a tremendous cacophony of grinding metal. Sparks flew in every direction as the dreadnought’s claws began to glow red hot from the friction of Atomos’s spinning drill plates, and its sturdy metal feet began to slip under the fal’Cie’s weight and momentum.

“Is he trying to stop it?” wondered Hope. “You can do it!” he called out.

The rocks behind the dreadnought’s feet were beginning to crack, but just as it seemed like the machine was about to lose its struggle, the remainder of the fleet came online all at once, responding to its signal. They took up positions in a formation, bracing each other against the walls of the tunnel, and forming an impenetrable phalanx that overpowered Atomos’s inertia.

The fal’Cie’s drill plates slowly ground to a halt, and it powered down, finally standing still perhaps for the first time in millenia. “Whooo!” whistled Snow. “Well, that was cool! Go robot guys!”

“Good lesson for us,” realized Sazh, staring in amazement as the dust settled around Atomos’s now-placid hulk. “Not even a mighty fal’Cie is a match for the power of teamwork. That is inspiration right there.”

“Save the sermons, old man,” quipped Fang. “Let’s hop on Trailblazer here, while we still have the chance.”

“Are we really going to ride a fal’Cie?” asked Hope incredulously, climbing up the rocks back onto the platform with the others.

“Why not?” said Vanille. “I don’t think it has any ill will toward us. It seems more…curious about us.” She cautiously approached the entity, sweating from the intense heat radiating off of its drill plates. An opening in its side led several yards into its central mass, which remained at a constant orientation during its drilling, and the metal it was constructed of was kept at a much more reasonable temperature by its cooling system.

Vanille hopped up into the alcove, unafraid. “Can you…take us to Oerba?” she asked. “North, toward the coast,” she clarified, sensing the being’s puzzlement. “I think…it wants to help us!”

“Good enough for me,” said Fang, climbing in beside her. “Come on!”

The small alcove in Atomos’s hull was a tight fit as all six of the l’Cie packed into it. Snow gripped onto a set protruding pipes on both walls, hardening his skin and using his body to shield the others from any flying debris that might make it inside, and they held on tight as the fal’Cie powered up its drill plates once more. The noise was deafening, and the vibrations set their teeth on edge as they were plunged into pitch darkness, burrowing deep into the virgin rock at dizzying speeds.

None of them knew exactly how long they were inside the depths of the mountain, only that they were all relieved when Atomos at last broke free of the solid stone and began to slow down. Even the filtered light from the deep canyon they had emerged into was momentarily blinding in its intensity, and their ears rang as the fal’Cie finally came to a shuddering stop.

“Phew!” exclaimed Vanille as they stepped out onto a rocky ledge outside a cave. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah,” said Hope, coughing from the dust. “I think so.”

“It says it can go no further this way,” she explained, translating her best from the vague images and concepts that Atomos used to communicate with her. “To do so would be…to ‘encroach on the tyrant’s domain…’”

“I don’t much like the sound of that…” Sazh started. “What the hell could a fal’Cie be afraid of?”

“Right,” said Lightning, looking around. The canyon below them quickly narrowed to a dead end, leaving the cave as their only way forward. “Well, I guess we’re about to find out.” She took a deep breath, and set out into the cave.

“Huh?” Hope asked. “Where are we, then? Is this Oerba?”

“No,” said Vanille sadly. “I’m afraid I don’t know this place.”

The interior was eerily lit with a green glow from bioluminescent algae that grew on the rocky walls, and after a hundred or so yards, the narrow tunnel opened into an expansive cavern. Daylight poured in from a gap in the ceiling, with several majestic waterfalls perfectly framing a view of Cocoon in the sky as they cascaded into a small underground lake.

The scene was so beautiful that even Lightning couldn’t help but stop and take it all in. Snow pulled the crystal tear out of his pocket, holding it up to the sky and looking at Cocoon refracted through its facets, and Vanille walked up behind him.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked.

“Hm?” he said, startled. “I was…uh…I was talking to Serah. Just telling her that we’re all gonna be okay.” He held the tear out, as if inviting Vanille to say something as well.

Gingerly, she took it from his hand, turning it over and looking at it sorrowfully. She held it up as he had, looking through it at the kaleidoscopic images in its facets. “It’s so pretty,” she admitted. “Serah… You’d been crying, hadn’t you? Back when we first met?”

FORTY-ONE

Vanille skipped along Bodhum’s picturesque beach with her newfound friend, trying her best to look carefree even as her mind swirled with dark thoughts. Serah followed a few paces behind, sitting down near the edge of the water where placid waves lapped gently at the sand.

“How’s the scrape?” Serah asked the peculiar girl in the odd clothes, trying to hide her own dark secret and completely unaware that Vanille already knew.

“Fine,” reassured Vanille, patting at the bandage Serah had applied after she had cut her hand picking up a broken glass at the nearby cafe. She hadn’t dared use her healing magic with so many people around. “Much better, thanks to you!” She sat down awkwardly next to the other girl, unsure of what to say. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I mean, I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”

“Not at all,” said Serah. “Don’t worry, I could sit here for hours!”

Vanille sighed, desperately holding back tears. Part of her was following Serah because she was worried what the girl would do, now that she was also a Pulse l’Cie, but mostly she was just lonely. It had been three days since Fang had left her behind at Euride Gorge, and she had still not come back. She knew she was lucky no one had figured out who she was, but she clearly stood out as different, and people were afraid of her anyway.

It was a bitter irony, of course, that Serah was the only other person on Cocoon who could understand what Vanille was going through, and yet she couldn’t say a word about it without admitting that she was the one responsible. So she kept up the charade, playing dumb again, lying with every other word. It was much easier with a relative stranger than it had been with Fang, but at some level she still knew it was wrong.

“Hey, Serah?” she asked. “Do you think we’ll meet again?”

“We might,” responded Serah uneasily. “Sure,” she added, but she was anything but. I might be a Cie’th by then, though, she thought, not knowing the other girl held the exact same fear.

“See, the thing is,” Vanille continued, standing up and stretching. “I was chasing after someone. Someone that I love very much, and there’s something I really need to apologize for. But…I just can’t ever find the words.”

“Gee, that’s gotta be tough, huh?” said Serah. She and Snow rarely fought, but the few times they had had been hard on her; she knew she possessed the same stubborn streak as her sister.

“I even have nightmares about it sometimes,” admitted Vanille, not adding that in those nightmares, Fang would transform into Ragnarok and tear her limb from limb before going on to lay waste to Cocoon.

Serah sighed, shaking off thoughts of her own nightmares. “Well, if it’s too much to deal with, face it later.”

“Really?”

“Sometimes things seem easier when you look at them from a distance, you know?” she added.

“But does that really work?” wondered Vanille. She was skeptical, but then again, if anyone else would understand, it would be Serah.

“Good question,” Serah admitted, standing up as well and brushing the sand off of her skirt. “I’ll let you know. So, what’s his name?”

“Huh? Oh…her name, actually,” she corrected, blushing slightly. “It’s Fang.”

“Ooh, sounds dangerous!” said Serah, smiling. “Well, then, what’s she like?”

“She can be dangerous,” admitted Vanille. “She’s a bit of a thrill-seeker, and more than a little stubborn. But she’s strong, and beautiful, and kind at heart. She’d do anything for me, and…sometimes that scares me.”

“Heh, sounds like Snow,” Serah laughed. “He’s my boyfriend, and he’s a lot like that, too. You know, if you really love each other, things will work themselves out. To be honest, I’ve been trying to keep something at a distance myself lately.”

“Like what?” Vanille pretended to ask, even though she knew the answer all too well.

“Don’t laugh, okay? It’s a dream I had. A bad one. I dreamt I destroyed the world. It was terrifying. I needed some time alone. It had me so scared I tried to run away, but then Snow came chasing after me. That’s when I understood; that running away and leaving behind the people you care about? That isn’t love.”

“I suppose not,” Vanille said, her face masking the guilt she felt.

“Though you might just want to keep them safe, shutting them out of your life only hurts them more,” continued Serah. “The point is, I have people I can count on. I’ll make it through.”

“I think you’ll be fine,” reassured Vanille. If only I had come to that realization sooner, she thought. 

“And you will be too,” said Serah, reaching out her hand. “You’ll find the words, I’m sure of it.”

Vanille took her hand gently, but she couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. “I’m sorry,” she wailed, putting her hand over the bandage Serah wore to hide her Pulse brand. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, kneeling down with a pleading look on her face. “What else can I say?”

Serah may not have been an empath, but with Vanille’s sudden outburst of contrition, she began to wonder exactly who the girl was. Her clothes were reminiscent of the strange artifacts and textiles she had seen inside the Vestige, and her accent was unlike any she had heard before.

“I’m not the one you should be asking, Vanille!” she said, however, patting her on the head. Even if she did have some connection to Pulse, Serah held no grudge against her. No one had forced her to enter the Vestige that fateful day, and she had had plenty of chances to leave before finally encountering the fal’Cie. It had been her own curiosity that had gotten her into this mess. “You’ll know what to say when you find your girlfriend again. You’ll see.”

“I suppose,” she said, collecting herself. You can’t tell her, she knew. “Thanks, Serah.”

“No problem,” she giggled. “So, how did you two meet?”

Face it later, thought Vanille, losing herself in the lighthearted conversation as they talked and laughed about their loves and their lives, neither one willing to admit their dark secret or how much they really had in common.

* * *

“You mean you met Serah?” asked Snow, watching Vanille talking to the crystal tear.

“I tried to hide our Focus, and she ended up a l’Cie,” she admitted. “I wanted to say I was sorry, but…”

“Well, when we rescue her,” interrupted Snow, “maybe you’ll get the chance!”

“Yeah, I hope so. I think she knew, somehow, or at least suspected. She never treated me any differently, though… You know,” she added, thinking back on Serah’s comment about her dream, and the one thing that had been bugging her since meeting the others during the Purge. “I think Serah saw the same vision of Ragnarok that we all did. That means Dysley had to be lying when he explained her Focus! I think she beat it! She handed Cocoon over to us, and that’s what made her turn to crystal. Just like Raines did!”

“I know,” said Snow. “Just like we will.”

Meanwhile, Lightning had gone on ahead, coming out the other end of the cave to a grassy field overlooking a picturesque valley, still unsure what to make of Vanille’s warning. She looked up at Cocoon, floating peacefully in the sky as if nothing was wrong, listening to the sounds of birds and the wind in the grass, and wondered what was going on inside that distant sphere. Had the panic abated now that they were gone, or was PSICOM cracking down yet again in the wake of the Palamecia’s destruction?

“Hey, Serah,” she said softly, slightly embarrassed to speak out loud. “What dreams are you having up there?”

“You figure we can stop here today?” came Snow’s voice from behind her, snapping her out of her reverie. “I think we’re all kind of tired.”

“Guess it’s as good a place as any,” she agreed. “Still would like to know what it is about this place that spooked a fal’Cie, though. Anyway, how’s Serah doing?” she asked as Snow held the tear up to the sky yet again. 

“Same as we left her,” replied Snow. “It all feels so far away now. But Serah says she wants to talk,” he added, placing the crystal in Lightning’s hand.

A sudden breeze blew through the valley, carrying dozens of floating dandelion-like seed puffs through the air, and Lightning reached out her hand to catch one. Nearly as big as her head, it sparkled with a slight glow, refracting the sunlight briefly before catching another gust and coming apart into individual kernels that scattered across the field. Even she could not help but stare in raptured attention at this vista, so different from anything she had known before. 

She looked through the crystal just as Snow always did, and could almost feel her sister’s presence. It was the first time she had held the crystal, and she cursed her own stubbornness yet again; as she held it, she could not deny the feeling that Serah was right there with her.

“She’d probably prefer if you skipped the lectures,” joked Snow, catching one of the seed puffs himself.

Yeah, she probably would, she thought silently. Looking over at Snow, she suddenly pulled out the Blazefire Saber, slicing through the seed puff and staring him down. There was something she needed to hear him say right now, before they even set up camp for the night.

“Hey!” cried Snow, stumbling back and falling on the grass. “What was that about?”

“Once we’re home,” she asked, still standing imposingly over him, “what’s your plan? You’re getting married, right?”

“What’s that?” he stammered, confused.

“Serah wants to know.” She folded the saber into gun mode, holding it at her side to prove she meant business.

“Don’t scare me like that,” said Snow, sitting up.

“You are getting married, aren’t you? Don’t you let her down, you hear me?” She tossed the crystal back to him, smiling slightly as he stood up to catch it.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured. “This tear will be her last of sorrow. I’ll make sure of that.”

“That’s all I need to know.” With that promise, she was finally ready to accept him as part of her family.

“We will see her, right?” wondered Snow, doubt creeping in despite his best efforts.

“Don’t go there,” Lightning insisted, pressing her fist into his back. She had seen enough miracles over the past few days that it no longer seemed like a pipedream, and she wasn’t going to let Snow of all people lose his nerve now. “No room for doubt. We’ll see her again, and soon. You convinced me of that. So stay strong.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “Don’t worry. We’ll finish this, and go see her together.”

* * *

The next morning, the six l’Cie set out once again to the north, leaving behind the lush caverns for an arid, rocky escarpment that opened up into an immense canyon several times larger than any found on Cocoon.

 “Oh!” exclaimed Vanille, kneeling down next to a patch of five-petaled pink blossoms that grew from between two rocks. “These flowers! You remember them, right?” she asked, turning to Fang behind her.

“Yeah, sure I do!” she said. “Etro lilies! They grew all over Oerba.” Unlike her Focus and the events of the war, these memories were strong, precious moments of her past that she refused to let slip away.

“We can’t be far now, then,” said Vanille. “I wonder what it’ll be like…”

Fang didn’t answer. They both wanted to believe they would find some semblance of the home they had left behind, but the farther they pressed on, the less likely that began to seem. “Let’s not worry about that just yet,” she finally responded as they rounded a corner, coming to the edge of the great canyon and getting their first look at what lay beyond. “Taejin’s Tower,” she intoned gravely, stopping dead in her tracks at the scene.

FORTY-TWO

“You recognize this place?” asked Lightning. Built into the side of the cliff several hundred yards away was the foundation of a colossal spire, constructed of layered metal and stone. Even what remained rose nearly fifty stories into the air before it had collapsed, leaving its true dizzying height splayed across the canyon to stretch nearly two miles into the distance, finally terminating in a massive claw that looked as though it was meant to tear open the heavens themselves.

“Yeah,” muttered Fang. “The ‘tyrant’s domain.’ No wonder Atomos wouldn’t take us any closer.”

“We get through there, though, and we’ll be in Oerba,” said Vanille.

“You’re almost home!” Snow exclaimed.

“Doesn’t exactly look like it’s gonna be a leisurely stroll,” warned Sazh. The canyon was far too deep to climb down, and the broken hulk of the tower formed the only bridge in sight.

“What is this place?” asked Hope. “Why are the fal’Cie afraid of it?”

A sudden rush of wind signified the answer to his question as the fal’Cie Dahaka once again swooped down low from behind them, soaring over the canyon to circle menacingly around the top of the tower.

“That’s why,” answered Fang.

“Oh,” said Hope, his face falling. “So, we just head through this fal’Cie’s lair to get to Oerba, right?” he added sarcastically.

“What’s another fal’Cie at this point, huh?” boasted Lightning.

“Well, Dahaka is…” Vanille started to say.

“Hey!” Snow pointed out, noticing a flock of wyverns fluttering around the tower’s sides. “Can’t we ride one of those across like we did on the Palamecia?”

As if Dahaka could hear him from the other side of the canyon, it suddenly banked and dove sharply toward the creatures. An intense energy blast issued forth from the pearls along its tail, and one by one, the wyverns were struck down by powerful explosions, plummeting to the bottom of the canyon as they died instantly.

“Most fal’Cie of Gran Pulse are pretty much uninterested in the life around them,” explained Vanille. “Dahaka…is different. Cruel. It suffers no intrusion from humans. Also…”

“We…may have pissed off this particular fal’Cie once, back in the day,” admitted Fang. “Seems like it remembers us.”

“Wonderful,” Sazh grumbled. “A fal’Cie with a grudge. Just what we need.”

“Well, we don’t have much choice,” said Lightning, setting off toward the tower. Reluctantly, the others followed one by one, along a trail from the edge of the cliffs up to a sheer rock face, carved into which a massive double door stood partially open. Flanking the doors were two statues, mostly humanoid except for their horned, bestial faces.

Vanille paused in front of the doors, shivering slightly. She had been taught in school never to approach the tower, that it was a holy place and its guardian fal’Cie would smite anyone who entered it. Nevertheless, Fang had been undeterred, but the two of them had barely gotten within sight of this entrance before being chased through the skies halfway to Haeri by Dahaka. They had been lucky to escape with their lives, and since then, even Fang had given it a wide berth.

“Remember, Vanille, we weren’t l’Cie back then,” reassured Fang. “And there are six of us now. Dahaka’s the one that should be afraid.”

“Right,” she agreed, taking a deep breath and stepping over the threshold. An unsettling air descended on them as they entered the stone corridor beyond, lit with a dim greenish glow from utilitarian lamps along the otherwise ornately-carved walls. A series of bronze archways lined the hall as it descended, each one installed at a slightly odd angle to give the impression of a building that didn’t quite make geometric sense.

“Place gives me the heebie-jeebies,” muttered Sazh, shaking his head. 

The corridor ended at the base of the tower itself, a single massive chamber that stretched upward into infinity. A set of balconies marked each level, and the pillars that supported them sat on large wheels that ran on a circular track through the floor. In the center stood an archway over a glowing crystal formation, guarded on four sides by more statues like the ones at the entrance. As the l’Cie entered, the eerie silence within was broken by a faint whispering that seemed to echo in their minds. 

“Huh?” wondered Vanille. “I’m not the only one hearing that, am I?”

“No,” said Sazh, looking around. “Uh…it couldn’t be them, could it?” he wondered, gesturing to the statues.

“I don’t know,” mused Hope. “It’s weird, like voices in my head.”

“I hear it too,” said Fang. “Bunch of gibberish. Vanille, can you understand them?”

Vanille listened intently to the murmuring voices, trying to discern their meaning as she had with Atomos. “‘Your presence here draws the tyrant’s gaze,’” she translated. “‘Leave this place at once.’ But we can’t leave,” she responded. “This is the only way for us to get through. Please, can you help us?”

Another breathy susurration echoed through the tower, and the great stone figure came to life before their eyes, plunging its massive carved sword into the ground at its feet. Instantly, the balconies above them began to rotate along their rails, the entire tower spinning and reconfiguring around them. On each level, strips of the wall aligned to form a continuous track proceeding upwards, and a tire-shaped elevator pod descended from above, its spinning external gear striking small crystal nodes embedded in the wall as it moved to generate tones as if the tower was one giant music box.

“They say to look for them, and the way will open,” continued Vanille.

“Uh huh,” muttered Sazh suspiciously as the elevator reached the ground floor, its door irising open and lighting up the circular gateway that led up to it.

“Well, that was easy enough,” said Snow.

“You never know,” warned Hope, also unsure whether to trust them. “Could be a trap.”

“Could be,” Sazh agreed. “Don’t see no stairs, though. Do you?”

“Nope,” said Fang. “This is our ride, bumpy or not.” With that, she strode calmly up to the elevator, climbing the ramp and stepping inside. In the dim glow of a bank of green lightbulbs, she could see a single large control lever connected to the rusty gears and pistons embedded in the walls, and despite her history with Dahaka, part of her couldn’t deny her excitement to finally explore this place. According to legend, Taejin’s Tower had been built by the fal’Cie in the prehistoric past, having collapsed centuries before even her time, and she realized they could very well be the first humans to set foot inside.

As soon as the others had filed in, she kicked the lever into position, and the ancient machinery sprang to life. The elevator shuddered slightly as it magnetized to its track and began to ascend. A counter with three digits in Pulsian script displaying a seemingly random number increased as they rose, and they could hear the strange chime-like crystals forming a discordant assortment of tones as the lift’s gears struck them.

The elevator slowed to a stop, its door whirring open to a balcony ten stories above the ground. The six l’Cie made their way down the ramp, looking around for a way to proceed further, but were interrupted by a rush of wind as Dahaka flew up beside them, pausing to look straight at them.

“Are you toying with us?” spat Fang.

In response, the fal’Cie circled around inside the tower, releasing a burst of energy from the end of its tail and descending out of sight.

“Move!” she shouted, grabbing Vanille’s hand and pulling her away as the energy sphere struck the wall where they had been standing. “Looks like somebody’s got a temper,” she muttered. 

“And holds a grudge,” added Vanille, dusting herself off. She hadn’t been sure at first, but now she knew: that blast had been aimed right for the two of them.

“What did you two do to this fal’Cie, anyway?” wondered Snow.

“Nothing, really,” she said. “We just…got too close.”

“I was young and stupid,” admitted Fang. “Thought I could prove myself to the village priests by finding one of the Arks, and maybe they’d leave me and Vanille alone about being together.”

“Oh,” he backpedaled, embarrassed. “I’m sorry…I didn’t realize…”

“Don’t be,” she told him. “We may have found a lot of trouble together back then, but it was still the best time of our lives.” She looked at the damage Dahaka had caused, and sighed. The balcony had been blown clean through, leaving a twenty-foot gap even a l’Cie couldn’t hope to jump across, and the elevator track stopped abruptly at the floor they stood on, picking up in different random spots on each level above. The explosion had also blasted a hole in the wall, however, leading to a side chamber in which stood another of the strange living effigies. “You said these statues were able to help us?” she asked, turning to Vanille.

“Mm-hmm,” she confirmed, walking up to it and reaching her hand out. The unsettling whispers sounded once more, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on the feelings that came with them. Unlike the statues on the floor below, this one was missing its sword, and seemed to bear a troubled expression on its face. “It wants to help, but it can’t. They’ve been trapped by Dahaka, their power sealed away…by the ‘infernal machine…’”

“Wonderful,” said Lightning. “Any ideas?”

“What kind of ‘machine?’” asked Sazh. “You’re not talkin’ about the fal’Cie, are you?”

“No,” Vanille clarified. “A robot of some sort, here on this floor, I think. Dahaka is…using it somehow, to keep them prisoner.”

“Well, then let’s go get it!” exclaimed Snow. “Maybe we can set them free!” He looked around, noticing a hallway leading out from the room they stood in.

“Guess we don’t have much of a choice,” said Lightning, following him into the corridor past two chambers with more statues, finally coming to one where a large walking automaton blocked the path. “This thing?”

“Probably,” confirmed Vanille. “But what do we do?”

Lightning had already drawn her saber, however, slicing into the machine’s boxy frame to little effect. In response, it spun around to face her, swinging its enormous accordion-like arms and knocking her back with the large valve wheels attached at their ends.

“Watch out!” cried Hope, quickly shielding her with magic and attempting to short out the robot with a torrent of water. It turned next toward him, shambling slowly but persistently forward on its stubby legs until it had him cornered against the wall.

“Over here, you bucket of bolts!” shouted Fang, twirling her spear in the air to get its attention. The machine paused for a moment, confused, and Sazh seized the opportunity to ensnare it in a whirlwind, knocking it to the floor.

Within seconds, Fang had thrust the lance into the joint between the robot’s segmented arm and its body, tossing it into the air with brute force and bouncing it off the point of the spear while Lightning overloaded its circuitry with a bolt of electricity. It thudded to the floor, twitching and emitting sparks before falling still. As soon as it had shut down, a small crystal orb floated out of its chassis, fading into a wave of energy that flowed back toward the statues.

“Does that mean…” Hope started to say.

“We did it!” exclaimed Vanille, running back through the rooms. The stone figures once again carried their blades, which they held up into the air. All six of the l’Cie could feel the powerful magic that burst forth from them, and Vanille watched astounded as the broken pieces of the balcony outside floated back into place from below and fused together as if nothing had happened. “Wow!”

As the others followed her across the balcony, however, Dahaka burst forth from beneath for a second time, circling ominously and flying straight for Fang and Vanille with its arms outstretched. “Great,” muttered the warrior woman, raising her spear once more. “Here we go again!”

“Can’t take a hint!” agreed Snow, squaring off to fight.

“You’re one to talk,” Lightning quipped, but she too had drawn her saber.

Before the fal’Cie could attack, though, the three statues from the other chambers appeared in midair with a flash of light, facing off against Dahaka. Two of them rushed forward, striking the crystal shell behind the being’s head, while the other swung its sword through the air to create a shockwave that sliced the end of its tail clean off. 

“Whoa! I’ll be damned!” yelled Sazh, watching in amazement as the fal’Cie flew away in defeat. The statues turned to the six of them, their whispers echoing through the tower once again.

“Hm?” Vanille wondered. “Are they…sad?”

They offered no answer, simply vanishing in another flash of light. “Well,” said Lightning. “At least the way is open now.”

FORTY-THREE

On the far side of the balcony, the l’Cie found an additional chamber with a staircase that led to the floor immediately above, where another statue waited for them. “Can you help us?” asked Vanille plaintively.

The being of living stone did not answer, simply thrusting its sword into the ground. A great rumbling of gears sounded, and the entire floor began to rotate, catching the six of them off-balance as the tower reconfigured itself around them once more. As it shuddered to a stop, the crystal tones of the elevator could be heard from the balcony in the central chamber. Vanille darted outside to see what had changed, and sure enough, the elevator’s track had been aligned to continue above the level they stood on. “Come on!” she called to the others.

Before they could approach it, though, Dahaka was already diving toward them from above, seemingly none the worse for its shortened tail. “This is getting old,” muttered Lightning, standing defiant before the fal’Cie as it circled threateningly once again.

“Pick on something your own size!” yelled Sazh in frustration, waving his guns in the air. That only served to anger the entity, however, and it paused to zero in on him for the first time. “Ah…ahh…my bad!” he hastily added, backing up in fear.

The three statues from the floor below appeared once more, guarding the l’Cie against Dahaka’s attack. The leader rushed forward in midair, striking its arm, and Dahaka lashed out with its tail in retaliation, slamming the other two statues into the wall of the tower just feet from where Hope and Vanille stood. They vanished in a flash of light before falling, and their leader summoned another energy shockwave, knocking off the next segment of Dahaka’s tail. The fal’Cie flew away once more, now with only a single massive pearl trailing behind its crystal shell.

“They saved us again,” noted Hope, staring incredulously as Dahaka retreated.

“Yeah,” Vanille agreed, watching as the statues’ leader descended before them again. “You really want to help us?”

It spoke in its incomprehensible whisper, pointing at the elevator as if to encourage them, then disappeared in a flash of light just like the others.

“Oh,” she intoned sadly. “They’re gone again.”

“Let’s just count our blessings,” said Snow. “So is Big Ugly, at least for now.” He made his way up to the elevator, pushing the lever after they all had climbed aboard. Once more, they began to ascend, the mysterious song of the crystals embedded in the track filtering in over the whirr of the motor. The lift came to a stop, and sunlight poured through the doors as they opened.

They had finally reached the top of the spire, where it had been cloven in two in the distant past. On top of the decrepit stone walls, a slightly newer structure had been grafted on, akin to an enormous gazebo with a platform suspended over the central shaft. Waiting for them in the middle was Dahaka, however, drawing energy from a set of crystals attached to the columns of the belvedere.

“It’s a trap!” cried Vanille. The fal’Cie had indeed managed to lure them to where it seemed the most powerful, charging itself from the crystals, but it hadn’t yet attacked.

“It’s acting strange, though,” noticed Lightning.

“He must be weak from losing his tail!” said Fang, more than a little bit excited to finally get revenge on the being that had humiliated her so long ago.

A surge of electricity crackled through the air from the crystals, and Dahaka gripped its remaining pearl with its hands, unfolding a set of decorative blades from its shell and lifting its head to reveal a second, draconic, true face hidden underneath its mask. Stretching out its arms, its head and shoulders looked almost organic save for the glowing red eye in the center of its forehead, identical to those on the overgrown brands that adorned every Cie’th.

“Yeah?” wondered Snow. “Looks plenty feisty to me!”

“He’s bluffing to scare us off, maybe?” said Hope. “Let’s…just go with that, all right? Come on! We can do this!”

Dahaka let out an unnatural wailing sound that hurt their ears, lifting its hands and summoning fountains of fire from where the l’Cie stood. Hope screamed in pain, but stood his ground, sheltering them with magic and willing their burns to heal.

“Finally gonna face me head-on?” taunted Fang, running in front to guard the others. Dahaka swiped at her with its monstrous claws to little effect, then bent forward, spitting an orb of darkness from the secondary mouth on its mask. Instantly, Hope’s conjured shield dissolved around her, leaving her vulnerable as it attacked again. “‘Fraid I won’t be such a pushover this time!” she yelled, parrying the blow with her spear and gouging it into the fal’Cie’s artificial skin.

It folded up its fan of blades, siphoning energy once more from the tower to generate a sphere of intense heat that expanded to encompass the entire platform. Even as it burned the l’Cie alive, Dahaka simply changed the aspect of its own exoskeleton as it unfurled once more, now absorbing the energy and feeding off of the fiery cloud.

“Get behind me!” said Snow, bracing himself with a miniature blizzard that emanated from his hands and counteracted the heat, creating a small pocket of survivable temperature.

“Don’t overdo it!” cautioned Hope, attempting to mimic Dahaka’s elemental attunement with another conjured shield. He couldn’t make them absorb fire the same way as the fal’Cie, but his magic could at least bolster their ability to withstand the inferno.

With the power of the entire structure at its command, however, Dahaka was able to manifest massive explosions and arcs of electricity across the whole floor, testing the limits of how strong the l’Cie had become. Emitting another unearthly moan, it began to grasp hold of the threads of time, pulling itself slightly out of the natural temporal flow into its own pocket dimension where it could act much faster.

“Oh no you don’t!” Fang shouted, holding her lance in the air like a lightning rod and drawing the temporal magic out of the fal’Cie before it could stabilize, scattering it to the winds. “Vanille? Bring the chill!”

“Got it!” she confirmed, stepping forward beside her partner and swinging the binding rod through the air, a cold fog trailing behind its wires as she condensed the gases around Dahaka into razor-sharp shards of ice, collapsing the cloud in an instant to freeze the fal’Cie solid.

As if to taunt them, Dahaka folded itself up once again, molding the ice with its hands as it reversed the polarity of the tower’s charge. The superheated cloud abruptly chilled as the ice sublimated, dropping the air temperature dangerously close to absolute zero, and the fal’Cie easily realigned its surface to absorb the cold.

“Oh, you think you’re clever, don’t you?” grumbled Sazh, summoning his own firestorm around Dahaka in retaliation. Even the magic of a fal’Cie couldn’t fully counteract the laws of physics, and a large crack appeared through the pearl that hung from its shell, having turned brittle from the wild temperature swings. Momentarily stunned, the fal’Cie collapsed onto the floor, another keening cry sounding from it as it writhed in what almost seemed like pain.

“No mercy!” screamed Fang, carving into its semi-organic torso with her spear before it could get the chance to recover. In seconds, it was being pelted relentlessly with bullets, blows, and magic alike, bleeding a strange silvery liquid from the wounds in its artificial skin as it carved grooves into the hard steel platform with its claws.

Retracting its fan of decorative blades, it finally pushed off of the floor, floating back into the air and siphoning power from the crystals in the columns again, this time forming a sphere of pure darkness that exploded into a miasmic shroud of poison gases. The l’Cie reeled back, coughing and sputtering as the mist burned their eyes and throats, unable to see or breathe.

Not like this, thought Vanille, trying to leech the poison out of their bodies, but the choking haze refused to dissipate. In desperation, she focused all her magic into a single point, letting it build until she could maintain it no longer, then allowing it to burst into a wave of cleansing energy that swept away every trace of magical influence in the area, clearing the air while leaving friend and foe alike enervated.

“Enough!” yelled Lightning, pressing through the fatigue and charging forward as soon as she could see again. She thrust the saber into the crack in Dahaka’s pearl, prying it apart with her full weight until it split completely in half. The fal’Cie fell forward once more, screeching loud enough to make the entire tower vibrate.

“We’ll see who’s left standing!” cried Fang, climbing onto its metallic shell and plunging her spear into the crystal that adorned it. Bolts of electricity shot out from the wound, coursing through its entire body as it began to crumble into ash. She leapt backwards, getting clear just as a magical shockwave erupted, but it was instantly absorbed back into the tower’s crystals. The powdery shape left behind held its form for several seconds, then dissolved completely with the slightest breeze, blowing away in stark silence.

“We did it,” sighed Vanille in relief. There had been so much hatred emanating from Dahaka that even she did not feel remorse for killing it, only solace that it was finally gone, as if the world itself seemed just a little bit brighter. 

A sudden flash of light signaled the return of the statues that had helped them, their echoing whispers sounding once more. “Look who’s back!” said Snow.

“He’s saying thanks!” realized Vanille. Everything about the statues seemed more vibrant and alive without Dahaka’s influence, and she could understand them much more clearly. “‘At last, the Menhirrim are free,’” she translated. “‘We go now, to hunt down evil wherever it hides.’”

The stone figures’ leader raised its sword in the air one last time, activating the energy stores in the tower that had been restored with Dahaka’s death. From the far end of the platform where the top half of the spire lay on its side, the musical strains of another elevator drifted forth, clinging to the track on the inside of the sideways tower. With that, the statues vanished once more in the blink of an eye.

“Gone just like that,” Sazh remarked. “For a big hunk of rock, those things sure can move!”

“So I guess that means there are still more monsters like Dahaka out there,” said Hope. “Other fal’Cie, and who knows what else, right?”

“Sounds like it,” agreed Lightning. “Somewhere out there on Gran Pulse.”

“You better believe it!” Fang confirmed. “Guess these Menhirrim are just doing what they can, too, though. Trying to save the world.” She shook her head slightly, ashamed of how close she had come to being willing to destroy everything. Vanille had been her whole world for so long that she had almost forgotten how to care about anything else.

“Yeah, well, it’s not all on them,” Lightning reminded her. “Last time I checked, we are still in this fight.”

“Right,” she agreed, taking a deep breath.

“Oerba’s right down there, then, isn’t it?” asked Hope, pointing in the direction of the tower’s top segment.

“Yep!” said Vanille.

“So, what’s it like?” asked Snow as they headed for the elevator the Menhirrim had summoned for them.

“Well, it’s kind of small,” she said wistfully. “But it’s warm, and green, and very naturey!”

“Around the fal’Cie, it was flowers as far as you could see,” added Fang.

Sazh walked over to the tower’s edge, gazing out at what lay beyond. “View from here ain’t so rosy, I’m sorry to say,” he told them.

“You want to wait here?” Lightning asked as Vanille’s face fell.

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head. “I need to see for myself.” She took Fang’s hand, striding slowly up to the edge and peering out at the desolate scene. Where once an endless field of blossoms had carpeted the hills from the canyon all the way to the shore, now lay nothing but a series of bleached-white sand dunes surrounding yet another crumbling ruin. She had been prepared for the village to be abandoned, but to see how barren the wilderness around it had become as well… “It’s all gone,” she moaned, fighting back tears.

“Every trace of color…” lamented Fang as well. She was not one to cry, especially in front of others, but seeing the stark fate of her home with her own eyes had shattered her resolve once again. “We’re chasing shadows!” she snapped. “This whole idea of losing our brands is hopeless!”

“There’s gotta be a way!” insisted Snow.

“Let’s keep on looking,” concurred Hope. “That’s what we came here for, right? We all agreed, and now we’re here.”

“You think…you think it’s really possible?” asked Vanille.

“Sure!” he said, grabbing her hand. “Anything is.” It sounded like an empty platitude, but just two days ago, he hadn’t even thought he would be able to make it this far, and now he had. 

“There’s no going back,” Lightning reminded them somberly.

“You don’t think I know that?” said Fang. They had all banked everything on this, knowing it was a long shot from the beginning. She stood stock still, staring blankly at the bleak landscape even as the others began to continue on. If I had succeeded, she thought, maybe there would still be life here. She and Vanille could have been blissfully ignorant in a crystal dreamland, venerated by generations of townsfolk as the saviors of Gran Pulse, their lives and their love celebrated over the centuries.

“Come on,” said Sazh, tapping her on the shoulder to snap her out of her reverie.

“It would have been worth it, godsdammit,” she whispered silently to herself, sighing and shaking her head before finally following.

Chapter Text

FORTY-FOUR

Cid Raines walked solemnly into the Primarch’s office at the very top of Edenhall, stopping before the panoramic windows to look out over the city. Even in the terrible situation he had been thrust into, he had to admit, it was a really nice office. If only I had earned my place here, he thought. He remembered the look of betrayal on Rygdea’s face when he had told him, but there was nothing left to be done. If he failed now to do as Barthandelus commanded, he would turn Cie’th in front of all of Cocoon, revealing the farce he had kept up for so long and causing yet more panic.

He paused to consider smashing the window and simply jumping to his death, wondering if it would even help at this point. The fal’Cie always get what they want, he told himself. Even if he committed suicide, Barthandelus would likely turn next to Rygdea, and he would sooner spare his subordinate and friend the anguish of being made a l’Cie.

“Your Eminence,” came the voice of an aide at the door. “It is time. The people await your address.”

“Very well,” he intoned flatly, waving the aide off. “And so, we greet the ‘new dawn,’” he muttered to himself, turning to follow. He had always been good at lying and hiding his emotions, and he needed that skill more than ever as he composed himself, striding confidently into the packed press room downstairs. Dozens of reporters and news cameras were watching, waiting with bated breath for his inaugural speech.

“People of Cocoon,” he began as he stepped up to the podium, painfully aware of his hollow words echoing from every TV set across Cocoon. “My fellow citizens. We have survived the twilight, and gather now to welcome the dawn of the day on which we decide our fate. Many are the lessons we have learned during our long night of hardship and sacrifice. Now, we face choices, which must be made as our hearts dictate, and not abandoned to uncaring chance.” They were Barthandelus’s words, not his, and the irony was almost too much to bear.

“Let us forge ahead with unflinching courage,” he continued. “To honor the fallen with action. With these hands, we shape the future!”

The crowd outside began to cheer, and Cid walked away from the podium. At the very least, he had been able to sign an order putting a stop to the Purges, giving the people a reprieve before whatever the fal’Cie had planned began in earnest. For that, he could only pray that Lightning, Snow, and the others would find a way to stop them before it was too late.

* * *

“Now that looks like an easier way to get where we’re going,” said Sazh as he scrambled atop the rubble to reach the elevator. Despite precariously clinging to its magnetic track on the inside of the sideways tower, it had remained oriented to the ground so as to be easily boarded.

“Let’s take it!” said Snow. “Wouldn’t want you to throw your back out climbing, old man!” he added jokingly.

“You really are a charmer, aren’t you,” Sazh grumbled, stepping aboard and throwing the lever as soon as everyone was inside. The musical tones of the crystal track echoed for several minutes as it made its way along the length of the collapsed tower, none of the l’Cie saying another word as their journey finally neared its conclusion.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Hope as the lift shuddered roughly, coming loose as it reached the end of the track and dropping precipitously to the ground below.

“Everyone all right?” asked Lightning. They nodded in affirmation as the interior of the elevator righted itself, its outer gear still spinning as it continued to roll along the ground. Despite being disconnected from the tower, the motor continued to whirr for a moment until its capacitors drained. When it stopped, however, the lights went out as well, plunging them into pitch blackness. “End of the line,” she stated, pulling out a small pocket flashlight and slowly prying the doors apart with the Blazefire Saber.

They climbed out into an otherworldly scene, as starkly beautiful as it was desolate. What had appeared from the top of the tower to be white sand was actually a fine crystal dust, settled over the hills in ever-shifting dunes. Cocoon hung low in the sky, so close here that they could make out the continents on its inner wall through the semitransparent scar. Vanille bent down, scooping up a handful of the dust and letting it run quietly through her fingers. She thought back on that horrible final battle so many centuries ago, realizing the dust must have fallen from Cocoon’s shell when Fang had shattered it.

This would always have happened, she knew now. Oerba would still have met this same fate, even had Fang succeeded in destroying Cocoon. Human civilization on Gran Pulse had never been meant to survive in the fal’Cie’s plan. If the population of Cocoon was intended to be a sacrifice, then her own people had simply been collateral damage.

“Come on, missy,” said Fang, reaching down to take her hand. “Let’s face this together.” Nothing else needed to be said; despite not remembering the war, she had reached the same conclusions as her partner. Slowly, they made their way up a hill in the warm afternoon sun, coming to the remnants of a crumbling road that had yet to be fully claimed by the dunes. Rounding a curve, they looked out beyond a low escarpment of rocks at a view no human had seen in hundreds of years.

“You two okay?” asked Snow as they stopped.

“This is Route 27,” realized Fang. “We’re finally back. After how many centuries?”

The road straightened out, becoming the village’s main street before ending at a small bluff that overlooked the bay. A series of decrepit telephone poles ran along the sidewalk, their wires having long since fallen off, and a pair of rusted-out billboards welcomed them, the first travelers in centuries, to what remained. The wind turbines that once supplied power to the village still turned silently in the breeze, but the only life to be seen was a small stand of overgrown eucalyptus trees, and a pack of Cie’th wandering aimlessly through the road.

“These Cie’th…” Vanille started to say, choking back tears. Fang simply put her arm around her, letting her cry. Seeing the Cie’th in Paddra had been difficult enough, but these had once been their neighbors and friends. One could have even called them family, considering the close-knit communal lifestyle they had led. “I’m okay,” she insisted, wiping her eyes, and continuing down the hill into the center of the village.

“Which is your house?” asked Hope, looking around at the rusty metal and peeling paint of the structures around them.

“What do you mean, ‘which is ours?’” replied Vanille. “All of them. They’re all ours.”

“Yep,” added Fang. “Everyone in the village lived together.”

“One big happy family?” said Snow.

“Well, sort of,” Vanille answered. “We…”

“Every family has its drama,” Fang interjected. “The other villagers stood by us for the most part. At least until the priests got involved.” The thirteen disciples of Anima who had chosen Vanille to be a l’Cie had tried to preach that Fang’s love for the girl was unnatural, an affront to Hallowed Pulse, and that she had been chosen as an opportunity to make up for their sins, and no one in the village would dare to go against the will of the fal’Cie.

“Still, that’s one heck of a lot of places to hang your hat,” said Sazh. 

“We’re back,” Vanille sighed, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of the salty ocean air. The smell was the one thing that hadn’t changed, an overwhelming aroma that the perfect, sanitized beach in Bodhum could never have compared to. She couldn’t hide from it forever, though, and looked once more upon the bay, with its crumbling railway bridge leading to the ruins of the port on the other side.

“So…do you want to…take a look around?” asked Hope nervously. He was fascinated by the town, despite the sad state it was in. Everything looked familiar, from the overturned mailbox on the sidewalk to the empty dumpster in the alley, yet so different at the same time.

“We’d better,” replied Fang. “Gotta find something to help us lose these brands.”

“That’s not the only reason we’re here,” Sazh added. “You’re finally home. I know it’s not what you were hoping for, but… Ya gotta make the most of it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Vanille agreed solemnly, wandering through the square, past the converted construction vehicle that had served as a machine shop, and up the stairs into the old boarding house. The door stood open, just as it would have on a warm day like this all those years ago, and she stepped inside.

Indoors, she could almost pretend nothing was wrong. Sure, the pink fleur-de-lys wallpaper had faded to a sickly beige, the diamond patterned carpet was moth-eaten, and the windows were nearly opaque with dust and grime, but the familiarity of it all was overwhelming. She sat down on one of the threadbare bunk beds, picking up a small, well-worn plush chocobo from the pillow. 

“Chirpy!” she said, turning it over in her hands. It had been Fang’s favorite when they were little, although she would never admit it now. As was customary, it had passed to the younger children when she had outgrown it, and Vanille wondered just how long it had lain abandoned and unloved. She slipped it into her pocket for safekeeping, her eyes caught by a weathered wooden desk on the far wall. 

“Someone remembered us, at least,” she said, making her way over to it. Between the broken mirror and dusty jewelry boxes stood a faded, yet prominently displayed photo of her and Fang.

“Oh, yeah,” came her partner’s voice from behind her as the others slowly filed into the house. “That was from my sixteenth birthday, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” confirmed Vanille, smiling at the memories. “That’s not all! Chirpy says ‘hi!’” She held up the chocobo doll.

“Stop it!” she insisted, blushing and shoving the stuffed toy away. “Not in front of them!”

“Too late,” Hope teased, laughing. 

“Chirpy, huh?” Snow chimed in.

“I didn’t name it!” stressed Fang, her face beet red. 

“Uh-uh, face it,” chuckled Sazh. “The jig is up! We know your secret now. The deadly fearsome warrior of Gran Pulse likes cute things.”

“You all are horrible,” she joked, but she couldn’t help but crack a smile. Her old family from the village may have been gone, but in this moment, bantering and laughing with the others, she truly felt accepted by her new family.

From the far end of the room came a quiet bleeping noise, and Vanille’s face lit up as she turned to look. “Oh! Bhakti!” she exclaimed, running over to the source. A tiny red robot the size of a small dog rolled over to meet her, returning her gaze through a pair of eyestalk-like lenses.

“Friend of yours?” asked Sazh.

“Yeah,” she replied, gently patting the cutely-decorated machine. “You’re okay! I was worried!” Bhakti emitted a mechanical chattering noise, however, and the lenses folded back into its chassis as it drained the last of its power reserves.

“He wanted to say goodbye,” said Fang, putting her hand on Vanille’s shoulder. Although the robotic pet technically had belonged to all the children, she knew Vanille had been especially fond of it for as long as she could remember, playing with it long after others her age had outgrown it.

Seeing the girl’s face fall, Sazh knelt down to inspect the automaton. Astoundingly, it was almost completely undamaged despite its age, and a small flashing light on the side seemed to indicate it had simply gone dormant to save energy. “He’s not ready for the scrap heap just yet,” he reassured. “Bit worse for wear, yeah, but nothing I can’t fix! Just need to track us down some parts.”

“Really?” she asked.

“You bet! Got any idea where I could find tools and components?”

“Try the machine shop across the street,” Fang told him. “One of the transport carts might have what you need, too,” she added, pointing at a small wheeled vehicle that had been left in the alley outside.

Sazh stepped outside to search, and Fang sat down at the desk, gazing forlornly at the photo from such happier times. “Huh,” she muttered, absent-mindedly picking through the dusty, tarnished jewelry and knickknacks that were strewn about. A pair of necklaces caught her eye immediately: crystal pendants of a globe held up by a spiraling pillar. 

She didn’t recognize them from her days growing up there, and although the design was somewhat different from the one Snow wore, the motif was strikingly similar. It seemed drastically out of place in a village that had always thought of Cocoon as the enemy. Unsure of her own half-formed thoughts, she pocketed them to reflect on later.

Several minutes later, Sazh returned with a screwdriver, an assortment of wires, and a small battery pack. Removing the top of Bhakti’s chassis, he quickly confirmed his suspicion; the robot had simply run out of power. Carefully, he disconnected the spent battery, wiring in the replacement and closing up the shell around it. “Hey-hey!” he said. “Look who’s back.” Bhakti gave an encouraging bleep, raising its telescoping eyes once more, and the look of relief on Vanille’s face instantly made it worthwhile.

“You’re a lifesaver, Sazh,” said Fang, watching as Vanille petted the small droid again, its electronic chirps and chitters making her smile once more.

“Ah, it was just a quick tune-up,” he insisted. “Don’t mention it.”

“Huh?” wondered Vanille as Bhakti emitted a sharp, alarmed beeping sound, suddenly projecting a small hologram displaying a short video of a flying Cie’th with a red warning symbol. “What’s the matter?” There were plenty of Cie’th wandering about the village, but so far they had not attacked.

“Something to be on the lookout for, I guess,” said Sazh.

“Right,” agreed Fang. “Can’t let our guard down.”

FORTY-FIVE

Cautiously, the l’Cie spread out around the ruins of Oerba, searching for any clues they could find. Many of the buildings had been overgrown or buried in the crystal dunes, and they slowly began to realize their chances of finding something were slim. Vanille and Fang left the main street and entered the once-idyllic schoolhouse, built on stilts over the bay with large picture windows looking out on the water.

Here was where the two of them had first learned about Cocoon, about the fal’Cie, and about the demon Lindzei who ever watched from his sphere of hatred in the sky. Every erroneous assumption that the people of Gran Pulse made about the world above had been passed down to them, priming them unwittingly to be used as pawns in a grand design that benefitted no human.

Now, like everything else in the village, it lay in shambles. The blackboard where they had first learned their letters now hung askew from the back wall, and the desks where they had carved their names as children lay overturned on the floor. The school, though, had also served as the town’s library and repository of record-keeping, and as the only ones who could read Pulsian writing, Fang and Vanille began to search silently among the crumbling books that lined the shelves. Yet all they found were more of the same myths and assumptions: 

Once the peoples of Gran Pulse had stood united, but the demon Lindzei violated our lands to build his blasphemous sphere, and now we war amongst ourselves for limited resources and wealth. Lindzei spoke lies unto the people, seducing them away with a promise of paradise. One day, the vipers of that floating world will strike at all we hold dear. On that day, one among us shall become Ragnarok, the beast of ruin, and tear Cocoon from the heavens once and for all.

Occasionally, a passage of presumed truth would also echo what they had already been told by Cid Raines: 

The gods made fal’Cie to complete the world for them, and then they departed for the great beyond. Upon death, a person’s essence travels through the Gate of Souls to the beyond, and should enough souls traverse that path at the same time, that Gate could be forced open.

Missing, however, was any mention of the final days of the war, or the process by which a human was made a l’Cie and whether it could be reversed. “There really is nothing, isn’t there?” asked Vanille as she reached the end of the bookshelf.

“It’s looking that way,” Fang responded. “At least nothing in the records. But I’ll keep searching; why don’t you take a break?”

“Okay,” she mumbled dejectedly, wandering around the room. She didn’t want to be alone, and the school held her most bittersweet memories of childhood. Many of the children had feared her empathic abilities and kept their distance from her, despite the teacher’s best efforts. Yet it was also where her bond with Fang had first been forged: the older girl had seemed never to be afraid of anything, and was the only child in the village who hadn’t treated her as different.

Taking a deep breath, Vanille stepped outside, climbing the staircase to the rooftop garden. To her amazement, the garden was nearly as she remembered it, slightly overgrown but still lush with the same flowers and herbs that she had helped care for all those years ago. Butterflies fluttered around the old fountain, still filled with water despite no longer functioning. She knelt down by a planter box, closing her eyes and taking a whiff of the fragrant Etro lilies that had once carpeted the hills for miles around. At least they still grow here.

It was a little too perfect, she started to think, however. Almost as if someone, or something, was still tending the garden amidst all this desolation. “Huh?” she said aloud, hearing a flapping noise from behind her, as if a flock of birds was approaching. “Aah!” she cried as she turned to look.

Instead of birds, the sound had come from a group of grotesquely deformed Cie’th that were slowly gathering around the schoolhouse. Many of them had been reduced to nothing but perpetually-screaming faces supported by bat-like wings, while others seemed to be disembodied arms that were struggling their way up the stairs. The strange warning Bhakti had tried to impart came back to Vanille’s mind as they began to surround her.

“Help!” she called out. She took out the binding rod, holding it up in self-defense as the flying Cie’th began to dive at her, emitting concussive blasts of sound that were strong enough to bruise her skin.

“Vanille!” came Fang’s voice as she dashed upstairs. “What the hell?” Instantly, the swarm turned away from Vanille, circling around Fang instead and uttering their strange metallic cries. She drew her spear, twirling it through the air to knock them away, but they kept coming, flocking and seething around her relentlessly.

“Hey!” yelled Vanille, conjuring a cyclone in the middle of the swarm to scatter them, but it had little effect. For every Cie’th the two of them dispatched, another seemed to take its place. Finally, an even more twisted monstrosity floated up from below; a pair of Cie’th that had somehow fused together, functioning as one.

Fang struck at the mutated creature to no avail; before her blows could even connect, it formed a spherical force field around itself that her spear would not penetrate. Instead, the Cie’th summoned shards of ice from the air, slicing at her skin even as she drew power from her brand to resist it. At the same time, the smaller fragmented Cie’th parts around her continued to discharge soundwaves, slowly overwhelming her defenses.

“No choice, I guess,” Vanille said, throwing a barrage of fireballs into the swarm, then calling down a concentrated blast of electricity to strike the large one. Gradually, the throng of disembodied heads and limbs began to thin, and the two of them turned their attention to the conjoined pair. Just as she had seen Lightning do, Fang drew forth spheres of intense gravity that she tossed at the Cie’th, bending and warping its force field a little at a time in the hope of finding a weak spot.

It let out a screech, siphoning energy directly from Fang’s brand and leaving her enervated as another swarm of crystallized body parts began to flock around her. Vanille hurriedly tended her partner’s wounds as she was overpowered yet again, but the two of them could barely keep up, let alone try to fight back anymore. “Help!” she cried out, but the others were out of earshot.

She began to realize something was drastically wrong. Most Cie’th were fixated on a single emotion, often despair, and radiated it powerfully enough to be nearly overwhelming to Vanille. These Cie’th fragments, however, had only disjointed, splintered shards of emotions, much like their physical nature. Even the large fused pair that she had assumed was in charge had an incomplete, stitched-together psyche, at war with itself as much as it was with them. Something else is controlling them, she pieced together.

From the sky above descended another flying Cie’th, this one a fully-formed individual with a bluish brand instead of the usual red, and Vanille shuddered as she felt its emotional aura. There was no regret or despair there, nor was there uncontrolled rage as she had felt from Geiseric. This time, there was pure, unadulterated hate, and it was directed squarely at Fang. “This must be what Bhakti tried to warn us about,” Vanille mused as it circled threateningly around them. “But who…?” One of the priests, maybe?

“I don’t know, but I can’t hold out like this much longer!” warned Fang. There was little time to think further on it, however, as it vomited a miasmic cloud of poison onto her. She stumbled, falling over into the swarm of Cie’th fragments clawing and tearing at her, and the flying ringleader let out what almost sounded like a peal of inhuman laughter.

“Fang!” yelled Vanille, trying to heal her as the onslaught continued. “Why?” she cried out. “Leave her alone!” The Cie’th were content to ignore Vanille completely, though, and Fang was beginning to lose consciousness. “Help!” she screamed again, but she quickly realized no one else could hear. It was up to her to save her love from the swarm. She desperately plucked the crystal apple of her Eidolon from her brand, throwing it into the horde. “Hecatoncheir! Help me!”

The crystal shattered on contact, hands rising up from the floor all around her as his glowing tree-shaped summoning circle took shape. She was still afraid to call on the being, but she couldn’t hesitate or she would lose Fang forever. He rose from the ground, standing before her, and she pointed to the pack of Cie’th.

The Eidolon thrust his right arms forward, his telescoping fists rocketing forth in a barrage to scatter the swarm, then he plunged his left arms into the floor, causing spikes of earth to erupt from underneath them. Before they could recover, he jumped in the air, every hand extending at once to form a hundred spears to impale them.

The pair of larger amalgamated Cie’th finally turned away from the unconscious Fang, launching another volley of icicles at Vanille this time. Hecatoncheir stepped in front at the last second, guarding her, but the leader Cie’th swooped in from behind, whipping the air into small whirlwinds powerful enough to cut like blades.

“Aah!” screamed Vanille as they sliced into her skin. She fell forward, blinking blood out of her eyes. “What do you want with us?” 

The Cie’th hovered before her, the waves of animosity and revulsion coming off of it enough to turn Vanille’s stomach. Not a priest, she realized, horror coming over her as she knew there was only one person in Oerba who could ever have hated her and Fang this much. 

“Mother,” she whispered. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry! This isn’t what I wanted either!”

Even if the bitter old woman who had raised them could have been made to see reason, the Cie’th she had become could not. Whatever Focus she had been given, she obviously had blamed on the two of them for failing, and especially on Fang for leading Vanille astray in her view.

“Hecatoncheir!” called Vanille. “Let’s get this done.”

The Eidolon began to fold up his arms, a great cloud of dust surrounding him and confusing the Cie’th as he transformed into a four-legged mech with a quartet of imposing cannons. Vanille clambered up into his saddle, pointing forward at the monster that had become of Mother. “Attack!”

Hecatoncheir opened fire with his front guns, shooting the Cie’th down from the air. Missiles erupted from a launch pod behind Vanille, striking both Mother and the conjoined pair. The Eidolon’s cannons opened up, charging a pair of immense energy orbs which exploded as they struck, tearing through the pair’s force field and tossing Mother to the floor.

“You like that?” Vanille taunted. She was done feeling sorry for Mother at this point; the woman had always treated the two of them with disdain even as she had been kind to the other children, and this was one rare occasion where Vanille allowed herself to be angry. How dare she come back five hundred years later and try to kill Fang for being the one person who had stuck by her side through everything? How dare she set what remained of the other unfortunate villagers on her like so many mindless attack dogs? No, she thought. This ends now. “I’m not all smiles and sunshine!” she cried, pressing buttons on the small control panel in front of Hecatoncheir’s saddle. “Bring out the big guns!”

The Eidolon plunged all four cannons into the floor at once, generating a sphere of energy that surrounded both Cie’th. Dust swirled around in a miniature hurricane, eroding their crystalline skin and slamming them into the ground with the force of the wind. Finally, the sphere imploded, condensing the dust and focusing the power of its blast inward, cooking the Cie’th with the pressure of the earth.

Vanille jumped down, and Hecatoncheir faded back into the crystal apple, disappearing inside her brand once more. The fused pair of Cie’th lay dead, and the one that had once been Mother flopped helplessly on the floor. She would have felt pity, but even mortally wounded, it seethed with hatred. She cast the binding rod’s wires around it, tightening them so it couldn’t get away, and turned to tend to Fang.

“Ugh,” her partner groaned as she slowly came to. “You saved me,” she chuckled. “I’m proud of you, missy.” She looked over at the struggling Cie’th as Vanille explained what had happened. “Now, what are we gonna do with you?”

“She was lost, Fang,” said Vanille. “So much hatred, for us, for you…”

Fang picked up her spear from where it had fallen. “I don’t want to do this, Mother,” she muttered. “But Vanille shouldn’t have to. Your quarrel always was with me.” She plunged the lance into the Cie’th’s back, twisting it as it shrieked in pain, then fell still. “You okay?” she asked, turning to Vanille.

“Yeah. It had to be done. I just wish…”

“It’s over. That whole awful chapter of our lives is over, Vanille. From now on, we fight for our own reasons.”

“Yep,” the girl agreed.

“Still, something’s off about this one,” Fang continued. Using the point of the spear, she flipped the dead Cie’th over. Its crystal skin was shinier and more pristine than the others they had seen, and the overgrown brand at its center was a different color and shape. The closest thing she had seen to a Cie’th like this had been the half-transformed Raines. “Etro’s tits, that’s a Cocoon brand!” she realized.

“What?” yelped Vanille. “You mean…”

“A Cocoon fal’Cie made her into this,” confirmed Fang. “And I bet I know which one.”

“You mean Barthandelus? But why?”

“The same reason as Raines,” she explained. “To make sure we got the job done. She was probably a l’Cie our whole damn lives!”

Mother always did have her secrets, thought Vanille. Of course she had picked up on some kind of deception when she was growing up, but she had known better than to pry into the woman’s private affairs, and she had never suspected this. No wonder she treated us badly. She had had every reason to hate us since the beginning.

FORTY-SIX

Fang and Vanille made their way to the rendezvous point just as the others were beginning to gather, looking quite a bit worse for wear after their battle.

“You two okay?” asked Snow as they approached.

“It seems the villagers were less than pleased about our homecoming,” snarked Fang, recounting what had happened with Mother. 

“So Barthandelus was working behind the scenes even in your time, huh?” said Hope.

“Yeah,” Vanille confirmed.

“Playing us for fools since we were kids,” Fang muttered, shaking her head. “What about you? Any of you find anything?”

“Nothing useful,” said Lightning. “Half the town is buried in—huh?” She stopped abruptly as a distant, hauntingly familiar voice could be heard from the crumbling railway above them. “Is that…?” It sounded like Serah, but she could not, would not let herself believe.

“Ragnarok,” the voice recited as Lightning slowly climbed the stairs through the ancient warehouse and freight yard, stepping out onto the tracks with the others close behind. “Come Day of Wrath, O Pulse l’Cie. Embrace thy fate, thine home to burn. That fallen souls might bear our plea, to hasten the Divine’s return.”

“No…” whispered Snow, looking desperately between the overturned passenger cars and rusted rail switches, his eyes finally coming to rest on his betrothed, Cocoon looming large in the sky behind her, as they came to the collapsed end of the bridge.

“O Piteous Wanderer, Ragnarok,” continued Serah, her face heavy with resignation as flakes of crystal still clung to her skin, slowly drifting away in the breeze as she finished coming back to life before their eyes. “Make of this day a brave epoch. Deliver the Divine, Ragnarok.”

“What?” said Lightning incredulously.

“Serah!” called Snow, stepping forward. “How did you—?”

Serah smiled at him, reaching for his hands. “I was waiting,” she said, running into his embrace. “For you to open your eyes. All the time I was asleep, I knew what was happening. I kept trying to think up a way to save Cocoon, together!”

“Serah?” he questioned.

“No,” whispered Vanille. Something was drastically wrong; she felt nothing from Serah, as if she was an empty shell being controlled from elsewhere just like Dysley had been.

Snow shoved her away, his better judgment coming around to the harsh truth.

“You get it now,” the apparition continued, its source becoming clear as Barthandelus’s silver owl soared into view and circled overhead. “There are no gods with miracles to save us, no matter where you look. That’s why we have to call one.” She smiled once more, but it was not the innocent grin of Serah that spread across her face, rather the twisted smirk of Barthandelus. “Destroy Orphan. We’ll save the world!”

“Stop it!” yelled Lightning, reaching for the Blazefire Saber.

“You can’t do that,” the doppelganger claimed. “You love me too much. You do, don’t you, Claire?”

She froze for just a second, but the obvious attempt to catch her off-guard wasn’t enough. She hadn’t used that name in years, but plenty of records of it existed, and it would be child’s play for a fal’Cie to get hold of them.

“Enough already!” cried Snow. “Listen up. We are all shooting for the same goal here!”

With the deception seen through, the image of Serah faded, transforming into the more appropriate puppet body of Galenth Dysley. “And the result of that,” he intoned, spreading his arms at the desolate landscape, “is this.”

“You son of a—” yelled Snow, rearing back to punch Dysley, but he simply teleported out of the way, leaving Snow to lose his balance and fall facedown on the concrete. Undeterred, he stood up again, rushing at Dysley only to bounce off his force shield and fall once more.

“No!” cried Hope, reaching for him.

“You’re one to talk!” yelled Fang. “This is your doing! Oerba, Gran Pulse, all of it, planned out since we were too young to speak!”

“You betrayed your fal’Cie to chase after dreams and shadows,” Dysley responded calmly, ignoring her accusations. “The world you claim to wish to protect now faces the end of days, with no hope of salvation.”

“I didn’t think fal’Cie had the means,” Lightning pointed out.

“Oh, it won’t be fal’Cie who destroy her,” he retorted, smirking once again as the silver owl gently perched on a twisted piece of track behind him. “For centuries now, Cocoon has provided generously for its human inhabitants’ every want and need. Coddled them, one might even say. The result being their deep-seated fear and hatred of change and all things alien. Fed, nurtured, and ready to detonate at the slightest spark. The seeds of destruction take root, even now.”

“What did you do to Cocoon?” yelled Lightning, silently knowing he was right. PSICOM had reason already to call for Purges of both Palumpolum and Nautilus, and it wouldn’t take much more at this point to cause a civil war.

“After you staged my very public demise aboard the Palamecia, I appointed Raines as Primarch in my stead.”

“Raines?” asked Snow. “He’s alive?”

“The puppet is restrung to serve my needs, yes,” chuckled Dysley. “Its eyes had long since turned to glass.”

Vanille closed her eyes, whimpering slightly. She knew all too well the despair of being released from crystal stasis only to face the same terrible Focus anew. Even the moment of triumph that had caused Raines to turn to crystal would be meaningless to him now, bound as he was under the same yoke to serve the fal’Cie or become a monster.

“Of course, the Cavalry will see our friend as nothing more than a traitor to their cause,” he continued. “Especially when it becomes clear that he has been a l’Cie for years. And imagine, when I spread word that it’s Orphan tugging at his strings, what happens next?”

“What?” yelped Sazh. “You’re gonna use the Cavalry to take the thing out?”

“Perhaps,” he said with a sadistic smile. “Or perhaps I’ll simply feign the howling of Pulsian wolves, and let the fear-addled sheep slaughter themselves first. Either way, the end is at hand!” He burst out laughing, spreading his arms to the sky with maniacal glee. “But what of yourselves? Will you enjoy the festivities beside me?”

“Is this a game to you?” cried Vanille. “So many people…why?”

“Or perhaps you prefer to greet the end here, in the land where it all began?” He held up his staff, disappearing in a flash of light, and the silver owl took wing, transforming into another monstrous machine similar to the one the l’Cie had fought aboard the Palamecia. 

“Watch out!” shouted Lightning, jumping out of the way of a laser blast. The six of them were much stronger than they had been the last time they had faced Barthandelus, and even more importantly, Lightning could tell it was weaker. This incarnation of its mechanical form was incomplete by necessity, a smaller, lighter version that could operate on reserve power so far from Cocoon. If they played their cards right, just maybe they could defeat it once and for all.

She slashed at its white-gold chassis, heating up the blade of the Blazefire Saber until it scorched and melted the metal with every blow. In response, the fal’Cie seemed limited, firing only a single laser from the center of its frame. Snow stepped in front to guard the others, easily absorbing its fire.

“Careful, now,” said Hope, shielding Snow with magic and healing his wounds, then summoning a pillar of ice underneath Barthandelus to further weaken it. 

“The world awaits your salvation,” it intoned, hesitating and building power slowly as an armored shield materialized on the front of its body, complete with a pair of singing heads that began to wail the discordant tones the l’Cie had heard when first receiving their Focus. 

Fang grimaced as the melody clashed again with her blocked memories. “Gods dammit,” she muttered, falling to her knees and clutching at her throbbing skull. “Not this again!”

“I’ve got your back!” Hope reassured, noticing her weakness to the sound. He quickly conjured a shield around her, tuning it to match the frequency of the singing.

“Thank you,” she said, scrambling to her feet to rejoin the fray.

“Fulfill your Focus, and save your precious Serah,” taunted Barthandelus, pausing to charge power again as its armor expanded, a second pair of singing heads adding to the terrible song as each one began to spit laser beams at them.

“Shit,” muttered Lightning as she realized the fal’Cie was getting stronger by the second. She couldn’t tell where it was receiving power from, but its attacks were quickly becoming even more potent than they had been back on the Palamecia. Its armor split down the middle, a bright light shining from within, and it separated into two halves as its terrible metal face unfolded in the center.

“Or do you pray for death’s release?” it asked, rearing back as its eyes began to glow. Waves of chaotic energy radiated off of it, shattering Hope’s magical shields and leaving them vulnerable once more. Fang collapsed to the floor once again, and as the song got even louder, it began to affect all the l’Cie, leaving them dazed and nauseated. “Your trials have just begun!” it said, its central face folding back as the laser cannons hidden within unleashed a volley.

“Why can’t you leave us alone?” cried Vanille, hurriedly tending to their wounds.

“Yeah, what she said!” grumbled Sazh, whipping the air around the fal’Cie into a massive cyclone. “We ain’t your playthings anymore!”

“You struggle in vain,” it stated, reaching out its massive metal hands. All six of the l’Cie felt the air being squeezed from their lungs as it seized the souls from their bodies, just as their Eidolons had when they had first manifested. “Writhe in torment!”

“No, Barthandelus,” said Lightning, plucking Odin’s crystal rose from her brand and tossing it into the air. She had faced this trial before, and was unafraid. In the end, she knew the fal’Cie was only testing them as well. “You’re wrong. We’ll carve out a new fate!” She struck the crystal with her saber, jumping back as the Eidolon appeared and conjured a massive arc of electricity through Barthandelus’s metallic shell.

Odin was able to sustain the l’Cie for a limited time with restorative energy, but even he couldn’t fully counter Barthandelus’s curse. They would have to defeat the fal’Cie quickly, or their bodies would perish while it still held their souls captive. 

“Let’s go!” shouted Lightning, all six of them throwing everything they had at Barthandelus while Odin sheltered them from its attacks. “Now!” she called out to the Eidolon, and he began to transform. Scrambling atop his back, she took hold of his twin blades, charging them with electricity and slicing into Barthandelus’s armor. The fal’Cie reared back from the damage, but showed no signs of stopping. It’s not going to be enough, she realized in horror. She had underestimated its ability to draw power this far from Cocoon, and that mistake could prove fatal.

“No,” whispered Vanille, forcing herself to stand. Odin’s energy was nearly spent, and she could sense that even Lightning had lost confidence in her strategy. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to this again, but she knew her empathic power was the only chance they had left. She held up the binding rod, closing her eyes and letting the darkness come through her once again. 

As it had every time before, the power threatened to consume her, flooding her mind with images of every terrible evil she and Fang had been forced to commit during the war. Desperately struggling against the flow in order to stay grounded in the present moment, she poured all of it into her magic, tearing at Barthandelus’s twisted, inhuman soul until even the fal’Cie could not help but cry out in pain.

Vanille screamed as she lost control of her power, her skin turning stark white as she teetered over the abyss in her own mind. No! she insisted. I will not succumb. I will not lose to this. She dropped her staff, collapsing to the floor and scratching at the hard concrete until her fingers bled, concentrating on the pain as a reminder of where and when she was. The past cannot hurt me anymore, she told herself. I am here, now, and the others need me!

Lightning seized the opportunity as Barthandelus hesitated, severely weakened. Just before Odin ran out of energy, she connected his twin blades together, leaping from his back and gouging into the fal’Cie’s metal face as she fell. The sword found purchase between the panels of its nose and left cheek, and her weight was enough to pry its glassy, expressionless eye completely off. Shards of crystal and fountains of glowing, caustic liquids erupted from the wound, and Barthandelus fell forward onto the pavement, disappearing in a flash of light.

From where it had stood, the silver owl flew off, dropping a small glowing crystal that formed back into the figure of Galenth Dysley. “The time has come,” he told them, striding forward. The six l’Cie drew their weapons again, even though they knew it was in vain, and he only laughed, holding up his staff. “Allow me to extend my invitation. To save a people beyond salvation, there is only Ragnarok!” The owl circled around, reconfiguring into yet another of his characteristic unmarked scout ships and landing at the broken end of the bridge.

“You’re the ones who are beyond salvation,” retorted Lightning. “This is the trouble when the gods leave machines in charge! You don’t realize when you’ve glitched out and need to be rebooted!”

“Cocoon suffers,” he said simply. “Release her from the pain.” With that, he turned around and vanished once more, leaving them alone with their thoughts.

FORTY-SEVEN

Where Dysley had stood mere moments ago, a small monument was visible, carved out of crystal in the shape of the Cie’th stones that had littered the Archylte Steppe. Sazh wandered up to it, shaking his head. “So, this is the end of the rainbow, huh?” he muttered. “Here’s hoping the pot’s full of tips on dealing with crackpot fal’Cie.”

“Hmm,” Fang mused, inspecting the sculpture. “You know, I don’t remember this being here before.”

“Maybe Barthandelus left it as a going-away present,” said Lightning. 

“I suppose it might be a record of what happened,” Vanille suggested. “You know, after we turned to crystal.” She stepped up close to it, slowly reaching out her hand.

“Vanille…” warned Fang, thinking of what had happened with the Cie’th stones, but this effigy only lit up, projecting a recorded hologram of a young girl with blue hair and a gentle disposition.

“I leave this message in the hope that our descendants may find it, and know the fate of our once-proud civilization,” spoke the image. “My name is Paddra Nsu Yeul, last of the Farseers of the Temple of Etro. Cocoon, where the slaves of Lindzei dwell, has been the enemy of all life fostered by Pulse’s sacred hand. So our fal’Cie determined Pulse’s will, chose l’Cie, and gave them a Focus: Become Ragnarok, and bring about the end of Cocoon.

“And so, the beast arose, defeated Lindzei’s hateful fal’Cie, and prepared to tear Cocoon apart. But Her Providence betrayed our l’Cie, draining Ragnarok of strength. Their Focus only half complete, the l’Cie were taken to the enemy’s land by Barthandelus, curse his name.

“Now, our cities have fallen to ruin, and our fal’Cie will not hear our pleas. We are a people on the brink, but we are not yet forsaken. For the Goddess said: ‘L’Cie who rest upon Cocoon will reawaken, however long they may wait, and Ragnarok will rise again, to tear the land from its seat in the sky.’ Her Word is absolute.” With that, the girl closed her eyes, bowing her head slightly, and the image disappeared, the monument becoming silent once more.

“Welp, guess the jig is up,” sighed Sazh, sitting down on the pavement.

Fang stood stock still, desperately trying to hold back her rage for Vanille’s sake if nothing else, but she could not anymore. The “traitor’s seal,” she remembered Barthandelus telling her back aboard the Palamecia, running her fingers over her scorched brand. “Etro did this,” she seethed. Taking the spear from her back, she roared in anger, smashing the stone monument into pieces. “Why me? Why save me and not—”

“Fang!” cried Vanille, reaching for her partner’s hand, despite the shadow of Ragnarok that threatened once again to overtake her.

“I owe no allegiance to a Goddess that does not deem you worth saving!” she screamed, grabbing Vanille by the shoulders and shaking her.

“Fang, what are you—” Snow started to interject.

“It wasn’t… I prayed for you!” admitted Vanille. “You were gone, and I prayed to Her to save you.”

“And She did,” Fang muttered in irony. “Made it so I could do whatever I wanted, and I’d just have to watch you suffer instead!”

“I thought…” started Vanille, crying. “I’m sorry. I guess I thought…I was beyond salvation.”

“Never!” she shouted. “Vanille, you’re my salvation! That you still have kindness in your heart, after everything, even carrying the memories of what we’ve done—that’s why I keep going! That’s why I have the strength I do!”

An awkward silence settled over the group as Fang finally began to calm down, at last broken by Sazh as he took a deep breath. “Whew!” he said. “You two had us worried there for a moment.”

“So this ‘Farseer,’” Hope asked. “Who is she?”

“In the city of Paddra to the south, many people worshipped Etro instead of Pulse,” explained Fang. “The Farseers were supposed to have been granted the gift to see the future by the Goddess. We never paid much heed to it here, but many claimed their predictions to be infallible.”

“So Cocoon’s done for, then, isn’t it?” he said, silently fighting back tears.

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” Sazh said sarcastically. “If we go ahead and smash Cocoon, you know some Maker’s sure to roll up and save the day!”

“As long as fal’Cie are around, this fight is never gonna end,” said Snow. “So let’s finish it. Let’s get Dysley!”

“And what do we do about Orphan?” asked Sazh.

“We’ll have to help Orphan,” replied Fang. “What else can we do? If we can manage to keep it safe—”

“So we fight the Cavalry?” he reminded her. “We’ll play right into Barthandelus’s hands.”

“And?” said Lightning. “We’re l’Cie. It’s not like we can make people stop fighting.”

“Lightning,” said Hope. “Back on Cocoon, you told me ‘it’s not a question of can or can’t.’ We just do it. That’s our only choice this time. Maybe it won’t do much. Maybe only one person will listen to us. But even then, isn’t trying better than doing nothing?” He turned to face his companions one at a time, giving each of them a look of determination.

“Oh!” said Vanille, her face lighting up. “Because ripples can make waves!” 

“Okay, kids have gone crazy,” joked Sazh.

“I don’t know,” mused Fang. Seeing Vanille’s unbreakable spirit coming back to life reminded her once again what she was fighting for. “Revolutionaries always get called crazy.”

“When I was on Cocoon,” continued Vanille. “I wished on those fireworks. I wished to not let anything happen to Cocoon this time, but I shouldn’t have wished for that.”

“Huh?” asked Hope.

“Wishes aren’t enough,” she stated. “Neither are prayers,” she added, looking at Fang. She had realized something upon seeing the recorded prophecy, that salvation had to come from within. No Goddess could absolve her of her sins, but she had the power to redeem herself. If the last of humanity was only those left on Cocoon, then she had become determined to protect it. “This time, I’m making a promise,” she said. “I will keep Cocoon safe. I promise, no matter what.”

“I guess it takes losing everything to make you see how much you have to fight for, huh?” Sazh pointed out.

“And we’re the only ones who can do it, right?” added Snow.

“I suppose we are,” said Fang. She knew now that they had no choice. Even if she went against Vanille’s wishes and destroyed Cocoon, the betrayal would likely cause her to turn Cie’th anyway. The only hope they had left was to make their own miracle, however slim the chance was. She put out her hand, smiling as Vanille did the same.

“All right then,” said Lightning. “We do this. Any loose ends to tie up here?”

The six of them looked at each other, shaking their heads one by one, except for Fang. “Just one,” she said, stepping forward. “Vanille, I told you once that we didn’t need a symbol of our love. I was wrong.” Reaching into her pouch, she removed the eerily familiar pendants she had found in the boarding house, scraping the dust off of them with her fingernails. “We don’t know what to expect when we return to Cocoon. Anything could happen.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Fang explained. “Whatever happens to us, someone, somewhere will tell our story. I want to make damn sure they get it right.” She held up one of the necklaces to Vanille, handing it over to her.

“Whoa, is that…?” Snow started to ask. “Where did you get those?”

“They were here,” she said. “In our old house, and I think it was a sign.” She knelt down in front of the girl she loved, finally knowing she had the acceptance from her new family to say what she had to. “Our love has been the one constant, across hundreds of years, on two different worlds, as everything we’ve known has crumbled around us, and now I ask: Oerba Dia Vanille, will you be my wife?”

“Oh-ho!” said Snow. “Someone’s not shy!”

Vanille giggled, blushing as she fastened it around her neck. “Do you even have to ask?” she said.

“Oh, to be young again,” laughed Sazh, clapping Fang on the back as even her face turned red.

“Hey, we’re both older than you by a few centuries, you know,” she joked. “Hey, Light, on Cocoon, can’t the military oversee a wedding?”

“Officers can,” she clarified. “I’m just a sergeant.”

“Oh, same difference,” Fang insisted. “Come on!”

“Uhh…” she said awkwardly. “Okay…”

“Vanille, I once looked into your eyes and saw the light that would save me. When everyone else was afraid because you could see right through them, I welcomed it. You saw the rage in my heart, but you chose instead to look at the good. The priests of Anima told us we were nothing, that our only use was to fight in their war. But they can’t tell us what to do anymore. We choose.”

“We choose,” echoed Vanille, taking the other pendant and putting it on Fang.

“Well, those sounded like vows to me,” said Snow. “What do you say, Light?”

“Sounds good,” she said, smiling as she humored them. “All right, with the power not quite vested in me by the Sanctum Guardian Corps, I pronounce you married. You may now kiss and all that.”

“All right!” said Snow as they swept each other into an embrace. 

“Congratulations,” added Sazh. “Ready for your honeymoon in Eden?”

The six of them burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all, surrounded as they were by the last vestiges of a dead civilization, about to charge without a plan into the powder keg that Cocoon had become. It would be a desperate, last-ditch attempt to save what remained of humanity from the machinations of the fal’Cie before they themselves turned to monsters, but they had to try.

Vanille walked over to the edge of the bridge, looking back on the empty shell of her village one last time as Fang came to join her. “Let’s go,” she said.

“Take your time,” Fang insisted. “We may never get the chance to come back here.”

“No,” she said. “I’m ready. This is our past, but there’s nothing left for us here. Whatever future awaits us, it’s on Cocoon.”

“All right,” agreed Fang, putting her arm around her as they made their way toward Barthandelus’s ship.

“You ready?” asked Lightning, turning to the others.

“Ready,” said Hope, following close behind as they boarded.

Barthandelus had been right about one thing: there were no gods with miracles ready to save humanity. Instead of a sacrifice to summon one, however, they had chosen to believe they could make their own miracle despite the odds stacked against them, just as Serah had believed they could.

Sazh climbed into the pilot’s seat, but he knew the drill by now. “Okay, Barty, what have you got for us this time?” he said as they strapped in. Nervously, he pressed the ignition switch, and the ship came to life, taking off of its own accord just as he had expected it to.

As the sun began to set on the ruins of Oerba, the small vessel leapt into the sky with fate’s chosen on board, soaring over the vast oceans toward the ever-growing Cocoon that filled the windows. A glowing green apparition much like the one that had led them from the Ark appeared in front of them, spreading its ghostly wings around the ship as it took them from the quiet melancholy of Gran Pulse into the hubbub of Cocoon once more.

Chapter Text

FORTY-EIGHT

“Oh, no, no, no, not this again!” exclaimed Sazh as the ship shook violently inside the wormhole Barthandelus had created. He gripped tightly to the yoke, but as with the last time they had relied on the fal’Cie’s ship to transport them, he had no control, and the portside AMP rotor had burst into flame upon clipping the edge of the vortex. “All part of the ‘grand plan,’ I’m guessing,” he muttered as they emerged from the portal and he got his first look at where they were. “Shit! Better get ready to jump!”

The ship had materialized directly above an aerial racetrack floating high over Eden, careening dangerously close to the crowded stands as high-performance velocycles sped along the circuit beneath them. Barthandelus wants to make damn sure we’re seen as the enemy, he realized, unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the button for the main hatch as the ship bore down on the racers.

“Odin!” shouted Lightning, tossing the Eidolon’s crystal out of the ship’s hatch, then immediately jumping. The others quickly followed suit, their own Eidolons lowering them safely even as the ship smashed into the racetrack’s glassy surface and exploded. For a mercy, most of the racers had gotten clear, but one contestant at the rear of the pack spun out as he swerved to avoid the blast, bouncing roughly along the track and losing all control of his cycle.

“Not on my watch!” yelled Snow, leaping into the air as the Shiva sisters separated, catching the errant velocycle between them and slowing it before the crash could turn deadly. “Close call!” he said, panting as he landed and threw out his arms to stabilize himself. “And the hero saves the day!”

The crowd erupted in a cheer, still unsure of what was happening, and Snow noticed his image lighting up on holographic TV screens all along the racetrack. High on adrenaline, he waved at the cameras before he could think better of it, grandstanding for the audience, only to freeze in horror as the TV zoomed in on his branded arm, clearly visible in the bright lights. “Shit!” he realized. “Probably should’ve covered that…”

“Intruders on the race circuit!” came an announcement from the P.A. system as security droids and army velocycles began to streak in from all sides. “Confirmed Pulse l’Cie! All units respond with lethal force!”

The cheers instantly turned to panicked screams, and Snow jumped onto Shiva as the twin sisters combined once more. “Catch me if you can!” he yelled, circling around to get the soldiers’ attention and taking off down the track at full speed.

This is all wrong, thought Hope as he watched the incident go down from atop the stands. They hadn’t been back on Cocoon for ten seconds before it had turned into a firefight again, but he knew they had no choice. They were the only ones who could warn the Cavalry about what would happen were they to strike at Orphan, and they could not afford to waste time here. Swallowing his fear, he leapt down onto the track even as the soldiers sped towards him, standing his ground as a Viking-class combat droid stopped mere inches from his face. 

“Hi there,” he said nonchalantly as the droid charged its electrified claw and reared back to strike. Before it could get the chance, however, it was instantly crushed as Alexander’s immense bulk landed directly on it. “Cut ‘em off!” he commanded, and the Eidolon reached out his hands, plucking two PSICOM velocycles right from the air as they approached and throwing them forcefully back into the rest of the squadron.

“Oh-ho!” exclaimed Snow as he rode on, one of the bikes bouncing over his head and tumbling clear off the edge of the track. “I think we have a winner!” 

A hundred yards ahead of him, Lightning charged forth atop Odin’s back as another unit of armored velocycles approached. “Now!” she said, standing up and jumping into the air as her Eidolon transformed, catching her and tossing her forward. Drawing the Blazefire Saber, she fired several shots in midair at the approaching soldiers, finally landing on one of the airbikes as it sped underneath her. The pilot feinted back and forth in an attempt to shake her off, and she leapt sideways onto another cycle as it passed, plunging her saber into a gap in its armor as a grip.

“You’re dead!” shouted the pilot of the second vehicle, taking one hand off the controls to draw his sidearm as Lightning clung to the front, blocking his view.

“You first!” she yelled, roughly grabbing his arm and tossing him to the track at full speed. Kicking herself off, she pivoted around the saber to perch on the cycle’s roof and pulled her blade loose, jumping across to a third bike and kicking the pilot out with both legs before landing in the seat. Flipping the Blazefire Saber back into a gun, she took aim at the pilot of the first velocycle and fired.

Impressive, thought Fang as she rode past on Bahamut, laughing with exhilaration. “Time for dinner!” she called out, holding tightly to the Eidolon’s saddle as he dived into an assembled platoon, scattering a dozen of them with a single charge.

No sooner had she flown off than they opened fire on Hecatoncheir behind her, though. He formed a protective cage around Vanille with his arms, deflecting hundreds of rounds of gunfire. “Hey, stop that!” she said, pointing at the nearest group of soldiers. “I said stop that!” Her Eidolon shot forth a set of fists on spring-loaded steel cables, knocking the troops back as he lassoed another set of hands onto a hovertank to bring it down.

“Block this,” muttered one of the soldiers, leveling a bazooka at her.

“Uh-oh,” she panicked, directing Hecatoncheir to turn around so he could absorb the blast. She screamed with the impact, holding on for dear life as they both went flying, dragging the hovertank along with them.

“Vanille!” cried Sazh as he saw the explosion, gunning Brynhildr’s engine and spinning her into a drift to catch up. Slamming on the brakes, he jumped out of the seat as the Eidolon transformed, grabbing onto Vanille as she tumbled out of Hecatoncheir’s grip, and letting Brynhildr catch them both just in time to pull them out of the way of the careening tank. “Gotcha!”

Lightning sped past on her commandeered velocycle, calling out for Odin once more as she realized the bike was headed straight for the crashed hovertank. At the last second, she jumped out, narrowly missing twisted pieces of flying debris before mounting her mystical steed once more. Galloping forward, she took hold of his double-bladed sword, spinning it through the air to slice clean through a pair of battle droids as she cleared the wreck of the tank.

Landing amidst the surviving soldiers, Lightning slid off Odin’s back in one fluid motion as he transformed again, tossing him the twin blade as she drew her own saber to cut down their enemies in tandem. As soon as the last man had fallen, she mounted the Eidolon again, charging forth toward the end of the track. 

She stopped abruptly at the edge, hearing the roar of a powerful AMP engine. The night instantly gave way to broad daylight as news of their arrival spread across Cocoon’s networked fal’Cie, prompting Phoenix to illuminate at full brightness, and the source of the sound became clearly visible. A scorpion-like Annihilator warmech, much like the one that had attacked the Purge train, rose to meet her, landing with a thud right before the finish line.

Lightning looked around quickly, but the others were too far away: it was up to her and Odin, and she had already taxed herself a great deal keeping him summoned for this long. “Charge!” she yelled, swinging the Eidolon’s twin swords to carve into the machine’s armor as he conjured bolts of electricity to short out its circuits. The mech reared back, swiping at her with its spinning sawblade pincers, but she and Odin simply leapt into the air, whipping a gale-force cyclone around it to destabilize it.

“Now!” she called out as the mech began to lose its footing in the artificial storm. Jumping off of Odin’s back, she spun the blades in a circle, thunderbolts issuing forth from them and melting the plating on the mech’s body until they reached a fuel line. With an intense explosion, the machine teetered backwards, shutting down and finally falling over the edge of the elevated racetrack to the city far below.

Lightning paused as she landed, panting with exertion as she was at last able to release Odin. “What’s that sound?” she wondered, listening intently as sirens and blasts seemed to echo from across the city. From the far end of the racetrack, a row of windows in an office building detonated, showering shards of glass on the billboards and grandstands.

“That’s a good question,” came Snow’s voice as the others began to catch up to her. “What is going on out there?”

“It looks like the Cavalry’s made their move,” said Hope. “Are we too late?”

“There’s more to it than that,” added Sazh, listening in on a fallen radio earpiece he had picked up. “They’re saying Eden is crawling with Pulse nasties. Apparently they’re popping out of transgates all over the city.”

“Transgates? That’s Sanctum technology,” Lightning pointed out.

“Yeah, well, they’re coming fresh off the Ark, I’d wager,” said Fang.

“This is out of control,” Sazh muttered. “What’ll happen to Cocoon if this keeps up?”

“It’s all-out war,” agreed Lightning. 

“Did we cause this by coming back?” wondered Hope, beginning to second-guess their decision. “Barthandelus’s prediction—it’s all coming true.”

“Well, his future stops right here,” Snow reminded him. “We’re the ones who decide what happens next.”

“Then let’s get moving!” said Vanille. “We have to stop the fal’Cie. That’s our real Focus!”

“Get moving to where, exactly?” asked Sazh, peering over the edge of the racetrack. The stands were connected to buildings by skybridges, but the track itself floated freely in midair with no apparent access to the rest of the city for those without a vehicle.

“If only we could fly…” Vanille mused, looking around desperately for something they could use. Despite the reports of Pulsian creatures in the city, none of them had made it up this high for them to ride, and the multitude of crashed velocycles and skytanks that littered the racetrack were wrecked well beyond operability.

Lightning, too, searched their surroundings, but with her knowledge of Cocoon technology, she had a more specific goal. Scavenging from the bodies of dead soldiers, she quickly retrieved six AMP-powered grav-con units like the one she had once carried. “We can jump,” she pointed out, passing them out to the others and taking the leap without another word.

“Huh?” asked Vanille as she took the device.

“Nothin’ to it!” exclaimed Sazh, activating his and following immediately.

“See you ground-side!” added Snow.

“Wait a minute!” she cried, but he and Hope had already gone. “You’re all crazy!”

“Don’t wanna get left behind, do you?” asked Fang with a smile, holding up her device. “Just remember, don’t drop the gizmo!” With that, she leapt backwards off the edge, leaving Vanille alone.

“Fang! Oh…” she said, looking down at the others as they fell, then at the small contraption in her hand. “This thing? …Okay!” Closing her eyes, she held on tightly to it, and jumped off.

* * *

“An army of creatures is attacking the city!” came the voice of a Homeguard agent assigned to the Primarch’s security detail. “It’s a Pulse invasion force.”

That is what they would call it, thought Cid. From his office in Edenhall, he had simply sat in front of the window, watching silently as explosions went off across the city. He could see the racetrack from here; after all, the event had been held in his honor as the new Primarch. He had watched as the l’Cie had returned from Gran Pulse only to be forced to engage PSICOM’s forces immediately, creating the perfect spectacle of a Pulsian attack for the news cameras. 

Now, the Ark hidden in the city’s floating support structure had opened, releasing lowerworld monsters into every district as the next stage in Barthandelus’s plan. Who would care that the “Pulsian army” consisted solely of beasts, robots, and Cie’th, or that Lightning and her companions would be fighting to protect the citizens instead of exterminate them? No, far better the story that the War of Transgression had begun anew, and the l’Cie had returned from Gran Pulse to destroy all of Cocoon.

“Your Eminence, we must evacuate!” said the agent.

Cid closed his eyes. His final act as Primarch was complete, at least. Before the attack had begun, he had committed one last undertaking of his own free will: he had used his access codes to plant a computer virus into Cocoon’s artificial gravity network, surreptitiously cutting it off from fal’Cie control. 

It wouldn’t be nearly enough on its own, but if by some miracle Lightning managed to stop Barthandelus’s plan, an enterprising hacker could use it to give Cocoon’s citizens just enough of an edge to survive. He knew there was an underground resistance that had sprung up in the wake of the Purge, led by Snow’s former gang of misfits from Bodhum, and he had been secretly feeding them information and support from the beginning.

His part, however, had come to an end, and as the sound of gunfire filled the room and the agent’s screams were cut off in death, he breathed a sigh of relief. He opened his eyes to look at Rygdea, having stormed into the office with a unit of Cavalry soldiers.

“So, Raines,” he asked. “Is this the Cocoon you dreamed of?” Another explosion shook the building to punctuate his words.

“My dream is but a fal’Cie’s fancy now,” Cid admitted, holding up his branded wrist. “End it,” he commanded.

Rygdea sighed, shaking his head. He put his gun to Cid’s forehead, but the sting of betrayal had faded upon actually seeing the brand. He had come here for revenge, but satisfaction was not forthcoming. Instead, all he could do was spare his former commander and friend the anguish of becoming a Cie’th, and so he pulled the trigger as he was told.

“Freeze!” came a shout from the door. 

“Shit,” he muttered. Another Homeguard unit had arrived, just in time to witness his apparent assassination of the Primarch. Before they could react, his own troops had opened fire, and he ducked behind a couch for cover. “Damn idealism!” he grunted, shooting between the cushions as the Homeguard agents returned fire. “You feed it blood, and it howls for more!”

Revenge would have to wait. At least Rygdea knew who was really responsible. A hidden fal’Cie, buried deep in the bowels of Edenhall, whose name was unknown to almost everyone: Orphan.

FORTY-NINE

Falling from the immense heights of the floating racetrack, Lightning quickly scoped out where she would land amid the vast multi-level maze of the city below. A pedestrian skybridge stretched out between two residential districts, spanning a chasm dozens of stories deep through which ran the city’s central expressway. The army had already been deployed, and she drew her saber, firing from above as she tossed the grav-con unit ahead to create a diversion.

The device’s cushioning bubble exploded amidst the platoon of soldiers, knocking them off their feet, and as it absorbed Lightning’s impact, the force was directed outward to scatter them. Charging forward, she used the element of surprise to her advantage, gunning the troops down to clear a path for her companions before they even had a chance to respond.

One by one, the others landed on their feet behind her, save for Vanille, who hadn’t properly prepared for the drop. She fell roughly on her behind, scrambling up and dusting herself off. “You could have warned me!” she complained as Fang reached down to help her.

“That’s how they get around on Cocoon,” her partner simply said, laughing and high-fiving her.

“That’s how Light gets around!” corrected Hope.

“Let’s go,” said Fang, running forward to catch up.

“Right,” Lightning muttered as she saw what lay ahead. A group of Cavalry soldiers had blasted their way through a barricade, heading for a bank of elevators leading below. Meanwhile, PSICOM’s Homeguard troops approached from the other direction, facing off against them.

“Cavalry, stand down!” yelled their leader. “Eden’s under our jurisdiction!”

“Do we fight?” asked Hope, quickly taking cover so as not to be seen.

The two commanders were arguing tensely, but the situation had not yet escalated to violence. Lightning held up her hand, counting down silently from three, then pointed to the elevator behind the Cavalry officer. Running out from behind a barricade, the l’Cie quickly piled into the lift before the soldiers could react.

“Halt!” came the voice of the Homeguard officer as he noticed them, but Lightning had already pressed the elevator’s controls. Gunshots rang out as the door closed, but they were gone in seconds.

The elevator opened up to the central expressway’s maintenance access, with cars zipping past at nearly two hundred miles per hour just a few feet away. Lightning and Sazh emerged with their guns drawn, but there was no army presence here yet, and they lowered their weapons.

“So, the Cavalry’s here to, uh…” wondered Sazh.

“They’re here for Orphan,” Lightning pointed out. “If it’s close to the fal’Cie Eden, they’re probably headed for the heart of the Sanctum.”

“No…” moaned Vanille, covering her face. “They can’t…”

“Right,” Fang interrupted. “And if they destroy it, bad things are gonna happen.”

“So long, Cocoon, right?” asked Hope.

“Then we better get there before they do,” said Snow.

“Uh-oh,” muttered Lightning, drawing her saber once more. The others had not yet noticed, but her familiarity with Sanctum technology let her pick out a distinctive static charge in the air before it would be apparent to anyone else. Right above the expressway, a warp gate irised open, materializing a Pulsian behemoth in the middle of traffic. “Let’s move!” she shouted, charging forth to intercept it.

“Hey hey hey!” stuttered Sazh as she jumped across two lanes without a thought. He reached for her, but stumbled back as a truck whizzed past within inches of his face.

Cars swerved left and right to avoid the beast, but even the automatic driving programs used on high-speed roadways such as this one could not react fast enough, and Lightning leapt into the air as they collided in a multi-vehicle pile up underneath her. Swinging her saber at the behemoth’s face, she tried to parry its momentum, but it bucked its head forward, sending her flying.

“Lightning!” yelled Snow, and they others took off after her as the traffic came to a halt. 

She thrust the point of the saber into the metal grating of the expressway’s electronic guide lanes, stopping herself and scrambling back to her feet as the behemoth stood upright, drawing the vicious spinning sawblade it carried and facing her down.

“Hope, remember their weaknesses!” she called out as the others backed her up.

“Right!” he responded, thinking back to the similar species he and Lightning had encountered in the holding pens of the Gapra Whitewood. “Let’s see how you like the cold!” He chilled the air around the creature’s ear flaps, conjuring a storm of icy winds and freezing droplets that quickly overloaded its senses.

As the behemoth flailed desperately amid Hope’s onslaught, Lightning took full advantage of its confusion, manipulating time as she had seen Fang do in order to deliver a flurry of saber strikes in quick succession before the animal could react. “Now!” she yelled as she released herself from the temporal slipstream she had created, gouging into the behemoth’s face as Sazh opened fire on it from behind. The beast finally fell down, dead, only to reveal a school of sahagin and a horde of flying Cie’th that had come to join the fray.

“Ugh, we’re never gonna make it,” Sazh grumbled upon seeing the monster fish shuffling toward them.

“Not with an attitude like that, we won’t!” said Vanille encouragingly. “Come on!”

“Help!” came a scream from beyond the pile-up of cars, and Lightning ran toward its source, scattering the sahagin with her saber as she went. “Leave me alone!” cried a woman as several Cie’th bore down on her from above, spewing forth noxious gases and eddies of wind that cut like blades.

“Get back!” Lightning yelled, slicing one down in midair as it swooped toward her, and tossing an exploding sphere of gravity at the others.

“Are you okay?” asked Vanille, reaching for the woman as she lay on the ground.

“Aah!” she moaned, coughing and clutching at a sharp cut on her leg. “What are those things? Are they from Pulse?”

As Lightning fought off the Cie’th, Vanille knelt down beside her, drawing forth regenerative energy to heal her wounds. “You’re going to be all right,” she reassured. “Just lay low and—”

“What did you…” the woman started to ask, panicking. “How did you… No! You’re one of them!” She scrambled to her feet, screaming again and taking off running. 

“Wait!” cried Vanille.

“Let her go,” said Fang, putting her hand on her partner’s shoulder. “We’ll save as many as we can, but remember, these people think we’re an invading army.”

With the highway blocked, people had gotten out of their cars, some milling about dumbfounded, others cowering behind cover as more creatures descended upon them, crashing through the glass of the ceiling and causing the holographic road signs to flicker out. The l’Cie had no choice but to fight their way through, and could only hope that the civilians would eventually realize whose side they were on.

Beyond another tangle of wrecked cars, however, the expressway had been blasted clean through, leaving nothing but a pile of twisted wreckage and a gap nearly a half-mile long. A platoon of Guardian Corps soldiers had already cleared the area of threats, and turned their weapons to the l’Cie as soon as they approached.

“Hold up, we’re not here to—” Snow began, but his words were drowned out with gunfire and the roars of biomechanical razorclaws. “Dammit, we’re trying to help!” he yelled, reluctantly fighting back as the situation instantly got out of hand.

“We don’t have a choice,” Hope lamented, summoning a tidal wave that swept the troops out of their way, washing several of them through shattered panels to fall to the streets far below. He didn’t want to kill anyone this time, but his experiences in Palumpolum had taught him that it couldn’t be helped.

Climbing over the fallen girders, Snow stopped abruptly on the other side as he saw what awaited. The Proudclad, the prototype manned biomechanoid that had been deployed after the fall of the Palamecia, was now finished, and it sat parked at the very end of the roadway with Yaag Rosch standing in front of it. 

“Rosch?” asked Snow.

“I see your power has grown, Mr. Villiers,” he said. “No matter. We will lay down our lives if that is what it takes to stop you.”

“Whoa, we’re on the same side here,” Snow said, holding up his hands in conciliation. “We came back to stop all of this!”

“Nevertheless,” Rosch countered, “you are l’Cie. We can trust the pawns no more than the fal’Cie who move them.” 

“Wait, so you do believe us? Don’t do this, Rosch!”

“Your intentions matter not,” he admitted. “I’ll not entrust our fate to l’Cie. Humanity’s fate rests in its own hands!” With that, he clambered up into the Proudclad’s cockpit, powering the biomechanoid up. It leapt into the air, spinning around as its fleet of attack drones detached from the decorative samurai face that adorned its undercarriage and hovered over them.

“Dammit, he’s not leaving us a choice either,” said Snow, hardening his skin as the biomechanoid’s attack drones suddenly rushed in, firing heat charges at Snow before retreating just as quickly. Charging the AMP in his jacket to maximum, he punched back at it, but his blows barely scuffed its paint.

Lightning charged her saber with electricity, slicing into the joints that connected the Proudclad’s mechanized wings, but as a living creature underneath its exoskeleton, it didn’t have the same weakness to electricity that a machine would. Hope summoned a whirlwind around it, trying to sweep it out of the air, but its stabilizing thrusters proved too powerful to overwhelm. Instead, he brought forth another tidal wave, forcing it to the ground with the sheer weight of the water, and Snow followed up by freezing it solid.

Before it could break free of the ice, Snow reared back, holding fast as he forced his AMP to overclock. Instead of moving with the device’s charge, he held back as long as he could while it pushed against his arm, finally throwing his whole weight into a single blow that shattered the ice and bent the biomechanoid’s joints out of alignment.

In response, Rosch lifted the Proudclad back into the air, releasing a laser volley from a bank of turrets along its back. Over and over, its drones darted in, attacking and then instantly withdrawing out of reach, knocking Hope and Lightning back, and wearing Snow down even as he tried to stand firm.

“Let me help!” said Vanille, hurriedly healing their wounds as Rosch’s onslaught continued. 

“I’m not done yet!” reassured Hope, summoning shields around them and bolstering their reflexes as he had seen Sazh do, but the Proudclad did not give them a moment to recover. “Alexander!” he called, taking the Eidolon’s crystal star from his brand and tossing it into the air. The great living bastion descended from the sky, reconfiguring into a suit of armor as he landed in a cloud of steam. “Need your help, big guy!”

The Eidolon stepped in front of Snow and the others, his sheer bulk forcing the biomechanoid’s drones to target him. Twisting back, he unleashed a vicious uppercut with his right fist, knocking the Proudclad off-axis and into a spin before immediately launching his left fist at the speed of a bullet.

“Okay, let me up!” commanded Hope, and Alexander’s steel parapets rose up around him, extending outwards to create a fortification Rosch could not hope to breach. “Let’s do this!” he said, climbing onto the central palisade. He pointed forward, and his Eidolon fired a volley of laser blasts before the Proudclad could right itself, knocking it into the ground. “Now!” he yelled, and Alexander’s heavy parapets began to recoil into the floor like pistons, bouncing the biomechanoid up and down and damaging it with each hit.

“Now’s our chance!” cried Hope, and Alexander launched an artillery shell, blasting the biomechanoid back. “Clear the way!” The Eidolon’s gears began to turn, and he unleashed a laser blast that burned a mystical circle into the floor underneath the Proudclad, exploding with pure light energy intense enough to scorch the creature’s metallicized exoskeleton.

Despite his bluster, Rosch recalled the drones, powering up the living vessel’s engines and soaring into the sky before it was destroyed completely. Hope jumped down as Alexander faded back into his brand, panting with exertion but smiling.

“Thanks,” said Snow, catching his breath.

“Don’t mention it,” replied Hope.

“I don’t understand,” Vanille complained during the moment’s respite. “We want the same thing! Why can’t we just work together?”

“These people are so blinded by fear, they can’t even imagine it,” muttered Fang, turning to the others. “Are we too late?”

“Not yet,” Snow insisted. “And we can’t give up. No one else knows the truth. Am I right?”

“Only we know about Orphan, and the plan to destroy Cocoon,” concurred Lightning.

“And which fal’Cie is behind it,” added Hope. “Barthandelus.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Fang asked. “It’s time for some payback!”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Sazh agreed. “Once everything’s finally out in the open, people are gonna have to wake up from this nightmare!”

“Let’s show them how human we still are,” said Lightning.

FIFTY

From the wreckage of the highway, the l’Cie boarded another maintenance elevator that lowered them to a tangle of off-ramps leading to every district of the city. The situation below them was even more grim, however, as even the most elite Homeguard troops found themselves outmatched by rampaging Pulsian machines and angry wildlife. One unit blasted away a living metal centaurion with a rocket, only for it to be overshadowed by a young adamantoise, not even fully grown and already the size of a small apartment building.

The creature stamped its enormous feet, scattering and stepping on the troops as they pelted it with gunfire. Sounding the retreat, the unit’s commander signaled to close off an emergency bulkhead between districts, trapping one of his own men behind it even as the rest of them ran for relative safety.

“Wait!” cried the terrified soldier as the bulkhead sealed behind him. “Open up! Let me in!” 

Just as the adamantoise was about to trample him underfoot, the elevator doors opened, and Snow charged in to defend him, quickly followed by the others. Snow knew the soldier would have tried to kill them without hesitation had the circumstances been any different, but he was determined to prove that they weren’t the enemy. “Get back!” he yelled, steeling himself to absorb the shockwave created by the beast as it stomped forward.

“L’Cie!” shouted the soldier, pointing his gun at Snow, then the adamantoise, then Snow again in confusion and desperation.

“Easy, now,” said Snow, charging the AMP in his jacket and punching the adamantoise’s foot with enough force to make it stumble backwards. Slowly, the soldier lowered his weapon, finally taking off running as he realized the l’Cie had just saved his life.

The adamantoise, however, had given Snow its full attention, roaring loud enough to stun all six of them momentarily with the sound, and kicking Snow aside like a rag doll the second he let his guard down.

“Snow!” cried Vanille, hurriedly healing his wounds as he stood up.

“Gonna need a new plan,” he realized as the angry beast reared back to stamp its feet again. “Don’t suppose you two have any ideas how to deal with these?” he asked, remembering the herds of them they had seen back on the Archylte Steppe.

“Sure, keep your distance and don’t piss ‘em off!” snarked Fang. 

“The beastmasters used to sedate them by chilling them,” said Vanille, conjuring a small ice storm that surrounded the creature. 

Sure enough, its movements began to slow as it grew drowsy in the cold, giving Snow the opportunity to strike back. Summoning gauntlets of ice, he relentlessly pummeled the adamantoise’s front legs until it tripped, falling over on its side with enough force to shake the ground.

“No escape!” yelled Fang, leaping nearly two stories into the air and landing with the point of her spear on the creature’s neck, killing it before it could get back up. “So this is what the fal’Cie wanted the Ark for,” she mused, shaking her head. “Turning Cocoon’s streets into a battlefield.”

“We have to stop as many of these things as we can,” agreed Hope. “Before they start spreading to other cities!”

“Yeah, well, there’s only so much the six of us can do,” said Sazh. “Especially with the army still tryin’ to kill us at every turn.” As if to prove his point, as soon as they emerged from behind the corpse of the adamantoise, another squad of Guardian Corps troops opened fire, still seeing them as the primary threat even as Cie’th circled overhead and behemoths ran amok in the distance.

“Stand down!” came a shout, however, as a man in an officer’s uniform approached.

“Sir?” asked one soldier hesitantly. 

The officer nodded, although he kept his own gun trained squarely on Lightning as he stepped out in front.

“Lieutenant Amodar?” she asked, recognizing her former commander instantly.

“Sergeant Farron,” he replied curtly. “They said you were back. I didn’t want to believe it at first. And alongside the town troublemaker Snow Villiers, no less. Never thought I’d see the day. Oh, well, I suppose you’ve had to stick together, being l’Cie and all now.”

“Look, we don’t want to hurt anyone else!” said Snow, putting his hands up in supplication.

“I wish I could take you at your word,” said Amodar, still aiming at Lightning. “But I’ll be damned if I know what to think anymore. After the Purge, we all got reassigned, while you went AWOL. Next thing I know, you’re public enemy number one. Sergeant, no—Lightning. What the hell is going on? Some of the guys that got sent to Palumpolum told me Rosch ordered them to open fire on civilians!”

“You were right, Lieutenant,” said Lightning. “PSICOM is not out to protect people. The Purge was nothing more than mass murder. But we’ve got bigger problems.” She hastily summarized what they had learned of Barthandelus’s plan.

“That’s one hell of a tale,” he finally said after a long pause. “A fal’Cie in charge of the Sanctum, even over Eden’s head, that wants you all to blow up Cocoon? Even if I believe you—and I’m not saying I do—you got a plan to stop this? Forgive me for sayin’ it, but the best way to put an end to that would be to follow my orders and pull this trigger!”

“And the Cavalry?” asked Snow. “If they manage to destroy Orphan, it’s still the end. This isn’t the time for people to be fighting each other!”

“Rygdea knows us,” said Fang. “With any luck, he’ll believe us if we can catch up to him before it’s too late.”

Amodar let out a deep sigh, slowly lowering the gun. “Oh, man,” he muttered, shaking his head. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. He decided to trust his eyes, however, and Lightning seemed to believe what she was saying. “I’ll call off my units. I never liked that sanctimonious scumbag Rosch anyway. Stick it to him for me, eh, Farron?”

“Will do,” she agreed. “And—thank you.”

“Just get going before I change my mind,” he insisted.

Lightning nodded, and the l’Cie continued on in silence, scrambling down two more levels of the collapsed interchange to finally reach street level. Blocking the way was a bulkhead fal’Cie similar to the ones she had encountered in the Gapra Whitewood, but she knew Barthandelus would have ordered it to let them through. Sure enough, it slid up and out of the way at her approach, its expressionless metal face staring ominously at them and reminding them just how far the odds were still stacked against them.

Beyond lay a once-tranquil city park, now serving as a hideout for a small crowd of civilians taking shelter from the rampaging monsters. One look at the street signs told the l’Cie it was the quickest way to reach Edenhall at the heart of the city, but they were already beginning to get uneasy looks from the people that had gathered.

“Dammit, not again,” Snow grumbled, remembering the angry mob in Palumpolum. Before they had a chance to react, however, screams echoed through the park as a horde of Cie’th bore down on the crowd from the other side. “No choice,” he muttered, taking off running to intercept. He scattered several Cie’th with a flurry of punches, attempting to rely on his AMP enhancement rather than risk using magic in front of the civilians, but there were too many of them for him to take on alone. 

One of the Cie’th crashed through the crowd’s makeshift barricade of park benches and trash cans, sending people running for their lives in every direction. A young girl tripped and fell as she tried to flee, and Hope gasped as he realized he recognized her. “Doreena?” he called out, panicking as the Cie’th swung its immense crystallized arm at her. Without thinking, he reflexively drew the Airwing and conjured a shield around her, cushioning what would have been a killing blow at the last second.

The Cie’th turned around and charged angrily at Hope, who was now separated from the others in the chaos. “No!” he cried, and realizing he had no choice, he coalesced orbs of pure light energy from the air, dense enough to melt clean through its stone exoskeleton.

“Hope?” said Doreena, looking at him incredulously as he stood over the scorched corpse of the Cie’th. “Is that you? What did you…”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nervously stood up, limping slightly from where the Cie’th had punched her. She had seen the creature effortlessly swat aside trees and streetlamps in its rampage, however. It was a painful bruise, but she knew it should have been the end of her instead. “Don’t—don’t come any closer!” she said, backing away in fear. Hope’s picture had been all over the news for the past week, along with those of his companions. She had thought herself safe in Eden, until all hell had broken loose at the new Primarch’s inauguration. Now, here she was, separated from her family and friends, and face-to-face with the dreaded l’Cie who was her former classmate.

“I’m not gonna hurt anyone,” Hope tried to reassure, folding the Airwing and holding his hands up. “We’re trying to help people!”

“But you—” she stammered. “You’re a l’Cie! You’re in league with Pulse! You did this!”

“The world’s not that simple, Doreena.” He looked over at the others, who had finished off the last of the other Cie’th and were cautiously trying to tend to other injured civilians. “Yes, my friends and I are l’Cie. But we didn’t summon these monsters, and the last thing any of us want is to destroy Cocoon! We decided we would use our powers to try and stop all this, no matter what.”

“You’re lying,” she insisted. “You have to be lying! Since when can l’Cie just decide to do whatever they want? You’re trying to trick me!”

“I can’t make you believe me,” said Hope. “But a lot of things I took for granted as true turned out to be lies. All I ask is that you keep an open mind.”

“I…” she started to say, her voice trailing off. “I can’t! They said it was a terrorist attack, and then all these monsters started appearing, and now you’re here, and you’re part of it all! Just stay away from me, okay?” She started to cry, and turned to run.

“Friend of yours, I take it?” asked Sazh as Doreena disappeared around the corner. “Hey, you tried your best. It takes time, though. I bet she’ll come around once this is all over.”

“Yeah,” Hope agreed, taking a deep breath as the others gathered. They looked around nervously as the sound of a velocycle engine cut through the air, but it was thankfully not the army approaching. A pair of tricked-out custom airbikes circled overhead, carrying a ragtag group that Hope recognized from that horrible day of the Purge as members of NORA.

“Heya, Snow!” Maqui called out as the bikes landed. “Where ya been?”

“Guys!” cried Snow, laughing with relief to see that his friends were okay.

“So, Snow,” said Yuj, stepping off his bike and staring him down. “You’re a Pulse l’Cie now, huh?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, holding up his branded arm while the others watched apprehensively. “Good times.”

“Then why didn’t you tell us?” Yuj continued. “Why the hell didn’t you come and find us?”

Snow hesitated, trying to think of what to say. The truth was, he didn’t have a good answer to give. Even after being captured by the Cavalry, he knew it wouldn’t have been hard to convince them to help out survivors of the Purge.

“Yeah, we’ve been waiting!” Lebreau chimed in.

“Us and the rest of the Purge fugitives!”

“Oh!” cried Vanille in relief. “Others made it, too?”

“Yeah,” said Maqui. “We had a hell of a time hiding out in those ruins, but there are quite a few of us, actually!”

“But damn,” Gadot piped up. “Those Pulse fal’Cie sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“Yeah,” joked Lightning. “Out of all the idiots in the world, they chose this one.”

“Hey, hey, hey now, wait just a minute here!” said Snow lightheartedly as the entire group shared a chuckle at his expense. “I am your fearless leader. You’re not supposed to laugh at the boss!”

A distant explosion dampened the mood, however, reminding them that time was short. “So, give it to me straight, Boss,” said Gadot. “What the hell is going on?” An anonymous source had been feeding NORA information while they had been holed up in the Hanging Edge, so they weren’t completely in the dark, but there was a lot they still didn’t understand. 

Snow recounted what had happened, explaining the plot to destroy Cocoon, glad to know that his friends at least would believe him.

“Damn,” Gadot grunted upon hearing the tale. “Just like old times, huh?”

“Don’t you worry,” reassured Lebreau. “We’ll take care of the civilians.”

“And you concentrate on saving Cocoon!” added Maqui.

“We all will, together!” said Hope, fighting back tears as a pang of grief came over him, memories of the Purge flooding back unbidden, but he refused to let it control him anymore. Rather, he realized he was simply happy to see that they had survived, and he laughed as Snow ruffled his hair.

“Now, what’s our motto?” Snow called out, raising his fist in the air.

“Fal’Cie are no match for NORA!” they responded in unison, striking the same ridiculous poses they had back in the Hanging Edge, but this time, Hope was smiling with them.

FIFTY-ONE

Rygdea and his troops cautiously approached Edenhall, wary of the Homeguard unit deployed in front. They had come this far with minimal bloodshed, and he had no desire to engage with any more human forces. His quarry lay deep inside the structure’s reliquary, and he led his soldiers through the shadows of the courtyard gardens, quietly approaching the side of the building.

“On three,” he whispered, planting an explosive charge on the wall. Counting down on his fingers, he retreated behind a planter for cover as it detonated, then pointed forward. The blast would have likely alerted the other unit, and he had no time to spare.

Hurrying through the labyrinthine corridors of the main floor, he made his way downstairs to the building’s core, where fal’Cie Eden sat controlling all of Cocoon’s primary systems. This level was eerily deserted, a strange blend of computer mainframes and sacred halls that few humans ever saw. Bundles of cabling led from network terminals directly into the ornate statuary and stained glass that lined the walls, feeding information from around the world directly into the fal’Cie.

Finally, Rygdea nervously entered the central chamber. Only the Primarch and his closest aides were allowed to access this room, and the feeling of scrutiny from the fal’Cie was almost unbearable. This is for you, Cid, he told himself, steeling his resolve. “Where is Orphan?” he demanded, drawing his gun and pointing it directly at the statue that served as Eden’s main terminal. 

* * *

As they said goodbye to the members of NORA, the l’Cie made their way through the park, coming out to a main boulevard in the center of the city, beyond which lay the capitol complex and Edenhall itself. There was no end to the chaos even here, however, leaving them little choice but to fight their way through yet more rampaging dreadnoughts and angry behemoths. When they finally approached the central plaza, they began to notice something else as well: small shimmering flecks of a crystalline substance, emitting an eerie ringing sound as they floated up from the city into the sky.

“What the…” Sazh muttered, stopping as the air grew thick with it. Above the skyline of hotels and office buildings, an enormous, glowing, oval-shaped portal had appeared, into which the crystal motes were being drawn.

“What is this stuff?” wondered Vanille, trying in vain to catch one out of the air.

“Huh,” said Fang, also snatching at one only to have it evaporate before she could touch it. “Some sort of crystal?”

“I don’t like this,” Sazh stated. “Is Cocoon falling apart already?”

“Could be,” Hope worried. “Maybe Orphan’s having trouble holding things together with all this fighting going on.”

“No…” said Vanille, her gaze fixed on the glowing gate in the sky. Unlike the rest of them, she had seen it once before, centuries ago, moments before falling into crystal stasis. “The Gate of Souls,” she whispered.

“Say what?” asked Sazh.

“Something I read about back in Oerba,” she explained. “Like a…door to the afterlife. With so much death all around us, it’s being forced open…”

“Indeed,” came Barthandelus’s voice from behind them. “The clamor of this conflict rouses the Maker.”

“Yeah?” spat Sazh as he spun around to face a giant apparition of Galenth Dysley’s face that hovered over them. “Well, we’re gonna stop this ruckus soon enough.”

“Can you halt the Cavalry’s charge?” asked Dysley, taking physical form before them. “Filled with righteousness, they will slaughter Orphan in the name of freedom. Your only recourse will be to deliver them death, swift and certain.”

“No,” retorted Lightning, drawing her saber. “Unlike you, they’ll listen to reason.”

“Hah hah hah,” he laughed. “We will see about that. I shall savor the demise of Cocoon from atop the highest seat in all of Eden. You, too, should hurry along to the heart of our grand capital. After all, your loved ones miss you so.”

“What?” asked Snow as the figure of Dysley soared up into the sky.

“Come, l’Cie. Fulfill your destiny!” he called from above before disappearing in a flash of light.

“Your destiny…” muttered Hope. “We’ll decide our own destiny!”

“Right, over Barthandelus’s dead body,” Lightning agreed, striding forward toward the largest building. “Well, this is it: 13 Leviathan Plaza. Edenhall’s right through there.” 

A sealed bulkhead fal’Cie blocked the main entryway from the lobby, but as before, it silently slid open at their approach. Inside, another crowd of scared civilians had gathered in the ornate foyer, although Lightning couldn’t help but notice this group consisted largely of well-dressed Sanctum officials. The fearful citizens side-eyed the l’Cie as they passed through, but none dared speak up even if they could tell. Beyond, the foyer opened up into a grand courtyard, covered by glass and surrounded by government buildings with Edenhall itself at its very center.

“So, this is the heart of Cocoon,” remarked Fang.

“It’s incredible!” gasped Vanille, staring at the intricate architecture and elaborate ornamentation that adorned every surface.

“That’s where Eden sits,” Hope pointed out. “Controlling all the other Cocoon fal’Cie. It’s also where we’ll find Orphan, the battery that keeps Eden running.”

“Good to know,” said Snow. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Your usual plan,” quipped Lightning. “Charge in through the front door, what else?”

“Right, the front…” Sazh muttered, but he quickly realized she wasn’t joking as she started forth once more. “Hey! What’re you…where are you going? What is wrong with her?” he added, turning to the others, but Vanille only shrugged as the rest of them began to follow.

From the far end of the courtyard, a unit of Homeguard troops approached, establishing a defensive line along the only path forward. A pair of militarized behemoths materialized from a warp portal, staring down the l’Cie as they drew near.

“Right,” sighed Lightning, drawing her saber.

The first behemoth charged forward, leaping clear over the line of soldiers, only to be unceremoniously swatted away by a Pulsian dreadnought as a second warp portal opened between them.

“I hope that’s our backup,” said Sazh.

Upon easily decimating the first wave of soldiers, however, the dreadnought had turned around, and began lumbering toward the l’Cie instead. “Well if it is,” grumbled Lightning, “I don’t think our backup is happy to see us.”

“Damn it all,” Sazh complained as the dreadnought spat fire from its enormous metal claws, singeing their clothes and hair. “All right, this is a Sazh special,” he proclaimed, grasping hold of the threads of time the way Lightning had earlier and firing off an impossibly quick barrage of bullets, each one imbued with a small gravitational anomaly that warped and bent the dreadnought’s thick metal plating.

As the great machine staggered backwards, Fang thrust the point of her spear into a gap in its armor, throwing her whole weight against it and knocking it on its side. Seeing an opening, Lightning leapt atop the robot’s chassis, slicing through a bundle of cables that had been exposed. The dreadnought flailed helplessly, the servos that controlled its movements malfunctioning, and Snow conjured a sharp pillar of ice, impaling it from beneath.

“Come on,” Snow said upon dispatching the robot, and they continued down the path, at last approaching Edenhall itself.

“Another squad,” Lightning pointed out, seeing PSICOM’s last line of defense around the central building.

Before the soldiers could notice the l’Cie, however, a brilliant light issued forth from Edenhall, enveloping the entire platoon in its effulgent radiance. From within came a horrific crackling sound, mixed with sharp screams that ended all too abruptly, and as the light faded, the troops had been replaced with Cie’th down to the last man.

“Cie’th?” said Lightning.

“All of them?” cried Vanille. “Just like that?” She noticed their crystalline bodies bore the same smooth appearance and bluish brand that Mother’s had, as they had been cursed by Eden itself.

“But why?” Hope asked. “What even was their Focus?”

“I…don’t think they were given one,” said Vanille. “All I sensed from them was panic, and then…nothing.”

“Hmph,” muttered Fang. “Without a Focus, nothing keeps the brand in check. Just to add to the chaos, it seems.” Indeed, even the militarized biomechanoids that had been with the platoon had now turned to attack the Cie’th, and some of them had broken off to head back out into the city where they would wreak even more mayhem.

“And a friendly reminder that we’re running on borrowed time,” Sazh remarked. “Looks like no one was spared.”

“Wait a minute,” said Snow, noticing an all-too-familiar shape behind the Cie’th. “Is that…?” The Proudclad, reconfigured into a ground assault mode and still heavily damaged from its first encounter with them, stood barring the way into Edenhall, and as they approached, it began to power up.

“You will go no further!” came Yaag Rosch’s voice from the living vessel’s P.A. system. 

“Man, he really wants us dead!” quipped Fang as the biomechanoid unleashed a high-powered particle beam on the l’Cie.

“You okay?” asked Vanille, letting waves of healing energy flow over the others as Lightning and Snow rushed in to attack. The Proudclad, however, continued to fire its particle beam relentlessly, each volley seeming to need less charge time than the last.

“Bring it on!” taunted Fang, stepping right in front of the next blast, letting her brand absorb the brunt of the energy even as it burned her skin. She then released it back into her own muscles, delivering a blow with her spear several times stronger than even she would ordinarily be capable of.

In response, Rosch lifted the vessel off the ground, transforming it in midair into its defensive mode and launching its fleet of drones to harry the l’Cie as its self-repair systems engaged.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Sazh as he noticed the small repair drone break away from the rest of the fleet. It had already patched up the wound Fang had made, but he took careful aim and shot it down before it could dock again.

“If I must die, then so be it!” echoed Rosch’s voice once more as he disengaged the Proudclad’s safety limiters and reconfigured the vessel again. “Prepare yourself, l’Cie!” While still in assault mode, he fired the thrusters, taking off and launching a barrage of missiles that blasted all six of them back as they exploded.

“Be careful!” cried Vanille, attempting to heal them quickly before Rosch could attack again, but the biomechanoid’s systems had gone into overdrive, and it fired its particle cannon almost immediately upon landing, knocking Fang and Snow to the ground with terrible burns. “Fang!” she screamed, panicking.

“Stay behind me!” yelled Sazh, opening fire to draw Rosch’s attention. “I got this, you take care of them!”

“Gotta stay in control!” said Hope, taking Vanille’s hand and kneeling down over the wounded beside her. “Light!” he called out as they worked together to bring them back from the brink. “Can you take out that cannon?”

“On it!” she replied, climbing onto the vessel’s hull and charging her saber with magical fire before gouging it into the armor surrounding the beam emitter. Although it did not give way from her blow, the heat overwhelmed what remained of the biomechanoid’s natural pain receptors, causing the joint on which the cannon was mounted to convulse and cracking the armor. Immediately, she plunged the saber into the weak spot, severing the cannon’s control cabling before jumping back.

“Ugh,” groaned Fang as she came to. “That was embarrassing.”

“Come on, you can do it!” said Vanille with a smile, helping her up.

“Right,” agreed Snow as he clambered to his feet. “It’s now or never!” Taking advantage of the opening Lightning had created, he grabbed hold of the inert particle cannon, boosting his AMP power to maximum and twisting it sharply until its power conduit ruptured, causing its charge to backfire throughout the Proudclad’s systems. “Get back!” he yelled, leaping out of the way as multiple explosions burst forth from the biomechanoid’s exoskeleton. Finally, it collapsed to the ground, dead, leaving a badly injured Rosch to stumble out of what remained of its cockpit, coughing blood and clutching at his wounds.

“Rosch, it’s over,” said Lightning, sheathing her saber and stepping forward.

“What of my soldiers?” he asked, looking around at the Cie’th in the distance.

Lightning had no answer for him, however. It was plain that she and the other l’Cie were not at fault for what had happened, but that didn’t make the harsh reality any better.

“Why are you doing this, Rosch?” asked Sazh. “I mean, haven’t you done enough?”

“Enough,” he repeated, the word as bitter as the blood in his mouth. “Under fal’Cie orders, I’ve orchestrated mass murder. All to answer the fears of a panicked populace. For a people utterly dependent on the fal’Cie, it was the only solution I could offer, even if that ‘solution’ was a farce.”

“Then, you knew?” cried Hope. “You knew the fal’Cie were using us?”

“I believed their rule was best for Cocoon’s present and future prosperity,” he explained, knowing full well how hollow it rang. He looked around at what remained of his soldiers once again, shaking his head. “But, it would seem that I…misjudged their benevolence. If this is my punishment, I accept it.”

“So, you’re just gonna let everything go to hell, is that it?” said Fang. “After all your bluster about ‘what was necessary’ and ‘saving Cocoon,’ you just wanna die and leave us to clean up your mess?”

“You’re right,” he sighed, ashamed even more at being scolded by not only a l’Cie, but one of the original perpetrators of the War of Transgression. “There is one more thing I can do.” He lifted his radio headset to his ear, broadcasting on all military channels. “This is… This is PSICOM Director Rosch. Attention all PSICOM and Guardian Corps units. Suspend l’Cie operations. I repeat: suspend l’Cie operations. All units should focus their efforts on evacuating the civilian population.” With that, he collapsed to the ground, wheezing from exertion.

“Rosch!” cried Snow, reaching out to him.

“Go,” he insisted, however. “You are here to save Cocoon, aren’t you? Or was that a farce as well?”

“Stay alive,” Snow told him. “We’ll see you when it’s over.”

“At least let us heal you!” begged Vanille, rushing to where he lay.

“I am afraid I do not deserve your succor, Miss Vanille,” he said, looking up at her earnest face, still willing to help him after all he had done and all he had put them through. “Help them. Save Cocoon. Be a better person…than I could ever be.”

“But—” she protested, but Fang simply put her arm around her and led her away with the others. As a warrior, she understood the kind of defeat he was feeling having fought for the wrong cause, even if all of Vanille’s empathy couldn’t let her. He had chosen this, and it wasn’t their place to intervene. If not for Vanille, she might have chosen the same penance for what she had done.

“What a fool I’ve been,” Rosch muttered to himself as the l’Cie walked on into Edenhall. He looked out, noticing that a pair of behemoths had carved their way through the Cie’th that had once been his troops, and were bearing down upon him. He removed a grenade from his belt, and stared them down as they approached. “I’ll trust in your humanity, l’Cie. The fate of Cocoon is in your hands.”

From inside Edenhall, the sound of the explosion rang clear, and Vanille cried out as she felt him cease to be. She turned to run back, but Fang stopped her once again. “This is the way it had to be,” she said. “We have a world to save.”

“Right,” said Vanille, wiping the tears from her eyes. “No more running.” Before them stood an elevator leading to the throne of fal’Cie Eden itself, where their destinies would be decided once and for all.

Chapter Text

FIFTY-TWO

None of the l’Cie knew quite what to expect as the elevator doors slid open on the beating heart of the Sanctum. Although Eden was the only fal’Cie on Cocoon known to directly communicate with humans, very few had ever been this close to it. Before them lay a cathedral-like hall, lit by glowing panels of stained glass in the walls that depicted scenes of Cocoon’s creation. Computer cables draped down from the high ceiling, arranged in an arched pattern where they connected to a circle of ornate columns, and a trinity of angelic statues watched from all sides as the l’Cie strode in.

“Where’s the Cavalry?” wondered Vanille.

“If they made it this far, we’ll see ‘em soon enough,” replied Fang.

Her true answer, however, came as a crystalline crackling sound echoed through the chamber, followed by the inhuman wails of Cie’th. 

“Not them too…” cried Snow. “They’re all Cie’th!”

Clad in polished blue crystal like the former PSICOM troops they had seen outside, the Cie’th began to swarm around them, surrounding them from all sides as if to accuse them.

“Gods dammit,” muttered Fang, drawing her lance. Rygdea may have been a pain in the ass, but he hadn’t deserved this. The least she owed him was a merciful death. She struck at them with the spear, but her blows only bounced off their smooth crystal skin. In response, one of them raised its arm, issuing forth a black smoke that muddled her senses and reflexes.

“Right,” Lightning muttered, summoning an intense shockwave of electricity that arced between the Cie’th, cracking their crystal shells in several places.  

“I’m sorry,” said Snow as he whipped the air around them into a miniature blizzard. “I promise, it won’t have been in vain!”

Another of the Cie’th reached forward, and an icy chill came over Snow as it began to tug on the threads of his soul. Unlike the surgical precision of the Eidolons’ challenges, the Cie’th could only clumsily tear at it, causing a wave of painful hemmhorages to rip through his body instead.

“Snow!” cried Vanille, hurriedly healing him. She recognized that magic, albeit as only a pale imitation of what she knew she was capable of. “Stop it!” she yelled, conjuring an explosion around the Cie’th.

“Heads up!” said Sazh, taking aim and unleashing a volley from both guns at once. Weakened from the others’ magical onslaught, the Cie’th finally collapsed to the ground one at a time. “Phew,” he sighed. Looking them over on the ground, he noticed several of them still wore their Guardian Corps dog tags. “Oh, man. Rest in peace, I guess…”

“I can’t do this…” Vanille moaned, interlocking her fingers in a prayer once more. “All these Cie’th were people once, like us.”

“But that’s what Barthandelus is going for,” Hope reminded her. “Don’t you see? Make us feel guilty, lose faith, and the second we give up, it’s Focus time.”

“Wait till we’re broken, then slip on the leash,” added Snow.

“Yeah, well,” said Sazh. “When you think about it, having all this empathy? It puts us humans at a big disadvantage. I can’t even imagine what you must go through, Vanille.”

“Maybe it is a disadvantage,” said Lightning. “But it’s also what makes us dangerous. A lot of dreams died to get us here, and we can’t let it be for nothing.”

“You said it,” Sazh agreed. “It’s not just our future we’re fighting for.”

“We’ll do it for everyone,” stated Hope. “Fal’Cie rule ends here.”

“Dysley!” shouted Snow, stepping forward into the center of the chamber. “We’re coming for you!”

In response, the three statues on the walls of the room began to glow with a soft golden light, and the stained glass panels behind them abruptly shattered. The stifling presence of fal’Cie Eden intensified, becoming almost unbearable as the walls of the room seemed to be digitally deconstructed. Marble and glass impossibly turned to pixels and wireframe models before disappearing completely, leaving in their place an enormous swirling vortex that the floor of the room seemed to float in the center of.

“What is this place?” wondered Lightning. There was a sky, of sorts, but in front of it floated a grid-like pattern of intangible screens upon which flowed a neverending stream of raw data. Chunks of crystalline circuitry floated by in midair like logs in a river, moving between two gargantuan sets of glowing crystal gears that occupied either end of the strange realm.

“I think…” Vanille mused aloud. “I think it’s Eden.” She could feel the fal’Cie’s presence in everything she looked at, as if they were physically standing in its thoughts. “I think we’re inside the fal’Cie.”

“Maybe this is where Orphan lives,” said Hope. 

“Could be,” agreed Sazh. “Could be why nobody’s heard of it until now.”

As if to confirm Vanille’s theory, the three statues that made up Eden came to life, each one crowned with a crystal halo that echoed the design of the machinery turning in the distance. They paused in front of the l’Cie, as if taking their measure, then raised their staves in unison. Instantly, the circuitboard-like pieces of red crystal in the air stopped moving, reconfiguring into a labyrinthine pathway for them to follow. The three statues floated away, each one taking up a position along the path.

“Well, that looks like an invitation,” muttered Lightning, setting out down the passage Eden had laid out. One by one, the others followed, except for Fang, who hung back, staring away into the distance.

“Fang, what’s wrong?” asked Vanille, stopping and returning to her side.

“Oh, nothing,” she answered in an unconvincing tone. “Just that time’s running short.”

“It’s okay,” Vanille told her. “My mind’s made up this time. We’ll just make Cocoon our home.”

Is it now? Fang thought grimly, absent-mindedly fingering the matching necklace she had found in Oerba. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess we will.” What she couldn’t bring herself to say, however, was that her own resolve was beginning to falter again. You mean I’ll make Cocoon my home. You and the others might be… A terrible image came to her mind, of having saved Cocoon and being hailed as a hero by the people, all the while standing over the Cie’th-transformed corpses of those closest to her. She hadn’t the time to dwell on it, though, so she forced a smile onto her face and started forth, even knowing Vanille could see right through it. 

The pathway that Eden had made was anything but straightforward. As the l’Cie made their way through, it continued to shift and rearrange, with panels of red and white crystal forming dead ends and staircases to nowhere at every turn. Just as they reached the first of the statues, it came to life, reconfiguring the platforms again as if for no other reason than to toy with them.

In the distance, the hulking forms of other Cocoon fal’Cie began to appear as if watching them. Carbuncle, Kujata, and others they didn’t recognize hovered menacingly above them, adding their presence to Eden’s own until they threatened to corrode the l’Cie’s souls with the intensity of their combined magic.

“Oh, they’ve all come out to say ‘hi.’ Wonderful,” grumbled Fang as they approached the second statue. The platforms they had just traversed disappeared behind them, reappearing at the end of the path to continue it into the distance. “Where’s this end?”

“If there is one, I can’t see it,” said Sazh, sighing as the statue darted off to await them further down.

“Probably meant to break our spirits just like the Cie’th were,” warned Lightning. 

“We can’t let it!” agreed Hope, using his Airwing to strengthen their resistance against the biting magic radiating off of the fal’Cie. 

“Hmph,” said Fang, shaking her head. “Your brands all right? Don’t you go turning Cie’th on me, you hear? Not after we’ve come this far.”

“Huh?” asked Snow. “Why do you think—”

“We’re fine, Fang,” Vanille interrupted to reassure her. “You still worry too much!”

The warrior woman sighed bitterly, closing her eyes to clear the unbidden images from her mind. Maybe she did worry too much about Vanille and the others, but moreso, she was worried about herself should the worst come to pass. She worried about what she might do, and what she might become if she saw them turn Cie’th before her eyes.

* * *

For what seemed like hours, the six l’Cie carefully navigated the shifting pathways, unsure if they were even making progress, until they finally began to approach the great crystal gears at the edge of the vortex. The platforms reconfigured one last time, forming a staircase that led several stories up to where all three statues waited. This time, the three joined their wands together, and reality seemed to dissolve around them once more.

“Is this…real?” wondered Vanille, looking around as their surroundings stabilized. They stood in what appeared to be a solid corridor, brightly lit and made entirely of polished opaque glass, with windows looking out onto an impossibly perfect sky with no ground in sight. At one end was a room that seemed to function as a lobby of sorts, with couches laid out around a statue that could only have depicted Lindzei Himself. The other side of the corridor came to a dead end, with no apparent entrance or exit. Vanille could no longer feel the powerful magic from fal’Cie Eden, but this room was too perfect to be more than another illusion.

“Does it matter?” asked Lightning. “Barthandelus! Show yourself!”

In response, a plain wall on the far side of the room slid upward, revealing itself as another bulkhead fal’Cie. Beyond, the corridor resumed for only a few yards before opening onto a grand throne room, adorned with spinning clockwork and hung with more cables on all sides. The throne itself, still empty, sat in front of a pool of water, its exaggeratedly tall marble back carved with Lindzei’s sigil and reaching dozens of feet into the air.

“I’m scared,” Vanille admitted as they entered. “But I guess being scared is proof I’m still human.”

“Ready?” said Lightning.

One by one, her five companions nodded in agreement, each of them pushing through the trepidation they felt. Although they had confronted Barthandelus twice already, they knew this time would be different. This was its demesne, the seat of its power, and likely the only place it could be fully destroyed.

“This is it,” said Snow, jumping down from the doorway to the floor below.

“Moment of truth, Hero,” Lightning agreed as the rest of them followed suit.

“More of those little lights,” remarked Vanille. Filling the room were motes of shimmering crystal like the ones they had seen in the streets of Eden.

“Life’s spark shines on, once freed from its fleshly shroud,” came Barthandelus’s voice as the silver owl flew in from the corridor and its human guise of Primarch Dysley appeared in a flash of light on the throne. In front of Dysley materialized the crystals of Serah and Dajh, floating in midair just out of reach. “Dreams, meanwhile, shatter in a flash,” he continued, raising his staff. In an instant, the crystals burst into broken shards.

“No!” screamed Snow, balling his hands into fists and rushing at the figure of Dysley, only to be blasted back by his magical shield once again.

“Think!” said Lightning, helping him to his feet. “Where’s the real Serah?”

He pulled the crystal tear from his pocket, gripping it tightly to remind himself.

“Hey, listen,” said Sazh, holding the chocobo chick in his hand as it chirped reassuringly. “It isn’t real. It’s just fal’Cie smoke and mirrors.”

“Yeah,” agreed Hope. “They don’t work wonders. They play tricks!”

“I felt nothing from those crystals,” said Vanille. “No illusion can fool me.” 

One by one, they drew their weapons, facing Dysley down, even as he only laughed in response. “At last, my errant l’Cie,” he taunted. “Men fight men. Men battle beasts. Cocoon wars with Pulse.”

“Yeah, all by your design!” retorted Fang.

“There can be no end to such conflict,” he continued. “But Cocoon’s end is imminent and inevitable. Will you not at least slay Orphan, and make it quick? As an act of mercy?”

“‘Mercy?’” Lightning quoted. “You mean ‘murder.’ And Cocoon won’t die. We’re not here for that. We came for you,” she finished, pointing the Blazefire Saber directly at his face.

FIFTY-THREE

Dysley let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. “Such willful insolence. Disappointing. You prolong Cocoon’s suffering! And to what end? Refusing me but condemns another to face your Focus tomorrow. If you truly seek salvation, you will obey!” He raised his staff in the air, and the silver owl perched on the tip. As when they had confronted the fal’Cie aboard the Palamecia, the clockwork throne began to reconfigure into the fal’Cie’s mechanical form, swallowing up both the owl and the puppet body of Dysley.

Barthandelus was much stronger here at the heart of Cocoon, but the l’Cie also had grown more powerful, and they knew everything it was capable of. Before the singing heads embedded in its armor could even open their mouths, Hope had already shielded his companions against their influence. Dodging laser beams, Lightning slashed back and forth across the fal’Cie’s armor, charging her blade with electricity that scorched and burned the thick metal plating.

“We’re done dancing to your tune!” declared Sazh, opening fire at the weak points Lightning had created.

“Turn from your fate, and your souls too shall burn bright in death!” warned the fal’Cie, rearing back and filling the room with a magical field that began to destabilize the molecular cohesion of everything within.

“Not gonna happen,” insisted Snow, standing in the center of the anomaly and deliberately absorbing it to ward the others from its effects. In response, Barthandelus opened up the panels on its sneering metal face, firing an intense blast from the laser cannons hidden beneath that would have killed the l’Cie outright just days ago. 

“You can’t control us!” cried Vanille, summoning forth a wave of soothing energy that swept through their bodies and closed their wounds instantly.

“Embrace your destiny, and slumber through the coming storm,” insisted Barthandelus as it weathered their attacks. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” yelled Snow, condensing a ball of ice around his fist and slamming it into a gap in the fal’Cie’s armor.

“We’d rather die than be your pawns anymore!” said Lightning, flipping backwards in midair and firing several rounds into the breach. The fal’Cie reared back, its inhuman voice crying out in pain as Lightning’s bullets pierced vital systems. Seeing an opening, Fang charged forward, plunging her spear into the crack and prying Barthandelus’s armor loose until its wail of agony intensified, its mechanical face incongruously smiling as it slowly began to slide backwards into the pool of water.

“Hey!” yelled Sazh. “Put a lid on it!”

“Release,” cried the fal’Cie as it began to disappear below the surface. “At last, release!” The room shuddered slightly as the magic powering Barthandelus was discharged, absorbed almost completely by the water and leaving nothing but an eerie silence in its place.

“It’s done,” remarked Lightning expressionlessly. 

“All right!” cheered Snow.

“Fang!” exclaimed Vanille, exchanging a high-five with her partner as the l’Cie breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Something still seemed wrong to Lightning, however. On the Palamecia and again in Oerba, they had been lucky to escape confronting Barthandelus with their lives, surviving only because it wanted them to. They had indeed grown many times stronger, but it seemed this time that the fal’Cie had barely put up a fight at all. As if it wanted this, too…

“Huh?” cried Hope as the room began to shudder once again. From under the pool of water shone a brilliant glow as an enormous shape began to emerge.

“A haven, yea,” came a voice, similar to Barthandelus’s, yet subtly different. “Yet it must fall, ere we be saved.”

“What the…” started Sazh, watching in disbelief as the clockwork decoration that had adorned the back of Dysley’s throne came forth from the water, ticking and spinning slowly as it now served as a mechanical halo for an abomination even among fal’Cie. Barthandelus’s sneering visage formed its left side, with Eden’s angelic statue on its right, its dextral hand almost obscenely stroking a golden baby-like face in the center in a mockery of parental love. The presence the l’Cie felt from it, however, was neither the former’s twisted cruelty nor the latter’s serene indifference, but rather a being of pure, unadulterated despair.

“Too frail a shell, and humans should not thrive,” continued its multi-timbred voice, as its clawed left hand emerged from the pool and slammed onto the floor, knocking the l’Cie backwards. “Too stout a shell, and they would not die. Slaughter and salvation: two irreconcilable Focuses we bore. Yet bound were we in a cocoon prison, impervious to our power. And so, we thank you, for granting us our longed-for birth.”

“Dysley?” questioned Snow.

“No,” Sazh corrected. “Not anymore.”

“We are the Abandoned One,” clarified the fal’Cie as it stood in its full grandeur before them, both halves mounted atop a gargantuan crystal upon which was inscribed a prophecy of Cocoon’s destruction. “Born, but now to die. Our name is Orphan. By our hand, the world shall know redemption!”

“So you’re behind all this?” asked Lightning. They had come here expecting to protect Orphan from Barthandelus’s machinations, and none of them had been quite willing to consider the possibility that Orphan itself would also want nothing more than for them to slay it.

“In slaughter lies redemption,” it confirmed. “In despair, lies new hope. Arm yourself with hate!” Rising up from the pool, the fal’Cie slammed its entire weight onto the platform, crushing all six l’Cie beneath its bulk before retreating to the water once again.

“Aah!” screamed Vanille. They had all survived, but just barely, and the terrible aura of despondency emanating from the being threatened to completely choke her thoughts. “No!” she cried out, clutching at her head to try and block the feelings. “Don’t give up!” Forcing herself to concentrate, she hastily willed their flesh to mend and their bones to knit. 

“Gods dammit, it’s not gonna leave us a choice,” said Snow, picking himself up and standing firm as Orphan’s terrible left hand smacked him backward again. The corridor by which they had entered was sealed off with a force field, and nowhere in the room was out of the fal’Cie’s reach.

“Then we fight!” said Fang, striking its crystal base repeatedly to little effect. 

“But we can’t!” Vanille pointed out. “That’s what it wants!”

“You think this thing is just gonna go back to sleep now that we woke it up?” she insisted. “We fight now, and figure out the rest after!”

“There’s gotta be a way!” said Hope, shielding the six of them with magic.

Orphan raised its right hand, summoning forth an orb of light from which flowed a wellspring of regenerative energy, filling in the cracks and scratches made by Fang’s spear. Even as all six of the l’Cie pelted it with magic, bullets, and strikes, it wasn’t enough to counter its constant rejuvenation.

“Dammit!” Fang muttered, tossing spheres of gravity into the air in hopes of revealing a weak spot. “It’s not enough!” Reaching out its left hand, Orphan savagely knocked them all to the floor again, then conjured a second orb of pure darkness, which began to siphon energy from the l’Cie. From behind its hulking form, a golden serpent-like appendage appeared, spewing forth a toxic miasma that instantly melted through Hope’s shields and left them reeling on the ground.

“No!” coughed Lightning. She drew forth the magic from her brand, forcing the poison from her lungs with every labored breath, then turning to impart the same effect on the others one by one. “We have to prevail. The madness ends here!”

“I don’t see how,” said Sazh, unloading an entire clip into the fal’Cie in vain. Every attack they tried on it, it seemed to shrug off effortlessly.

“Piteous souls,” Orphan insisted, emerging from the water to crush them once again. “We shall pry open the door to salvation!”

“No,” Vanille moaned, coughing up blood even as she desperately kept the others alive. She knew what she had to do, but the thought of calling on her dark power before Orphan’s intense despair terrified her to no end. “I can’t do it!” she cried, holding her hands over her ears in a vain attempt to block out the fal’Cie’s terrible aura. 

“Vanille!” Fang called out, reaching for her. “Stay behind me. I’ll handle it.” Before she could get the chance, however, Orphan extended its left hand once again, effortlessly plucking her soul from her body and leaving her unconscious on the floor.

“No!” her partner screamed, closing her eyes to concentrate on undoing the fal’Cie’s terrible curse. “Fang! Come back!” she implored, reaching for the threads with her mind and pulling her love back from the precipice at the last second.

“Enough!” yelled Snow, removing Shiva’s crystal from his brand and throwing it with all his might at the fal’Cie. “We’ve gotta win this!” The twins burst forth as the crystal shattered, swirling around Orphan and using their wheels as icy chakrams to grind rough grooves into its polished surface. Without hesitating, Snow punched his fist down into the pool of water, flash-freezing it and summoning stalagmites of ice from below.

The fal’Cie staggered back momentarily, shaking itself loose with a tremendous cracking noise, and unceremoniously swatted the Shiva sisters aside as if they were flies. Tumbling into a heap in a corner, Nix and Stiria attempted to combine into their motorcycle form, but they were damaged, losing energy at an alarming rate, and it would take a terrible toll on Snow to keep them manifested for much longer.

Snow collapsed in exhaustion, letting his Eidolon dissipate back into his brand. Orphan only laughed, rising up out of the water yet again and effortlessly filling the room with a dark energy that seared through the l’Cie’s bodies, leaving all six of them writhing on the floor in pain.

“Have you ever paused to consider our reason for making l’Cie of men?” Orphan inquired. “We fal’Cie are crafted for a single purpose, and granted finite power to that end. With men, it is not so. Men dream, aspire, and through indomitable force of will, achieve the impossible. Your power is beyond measure. We take l’Cie that we might wield such strength!”

As the energy field began to fade, Vanille forced herself to stand. “You put us through all of this…because you want to be like us?” she asked incredulously.

“Indeed,” answered the clockwork monstrosity, raising its terrible left hand and charging it with more dark energy. “Through you, we obtained freedom from our bondage. And now, your Focus alone remains. Defy it, and all will be for naught. Cocoon’s sacrifice, and that of Gran Pulse as well!” The energy arced forth from Orphan’s hand, surrounding Vanille in a shroud of pure agony.

“Vanille!” cried Fang, scrambling to her feet and reaching for the girl, only to be forced back by the intense pain as she came into contact with the field. She could only watch in horror as the energy grew even stronger, lifting the screaming Vanille into the air and out of her reach entirely.

“Yet,” continued Orphan, “if we but summon the Maker, we will be granted the chance to begin again! All our sins absolved, and the world born anew!”

“Stop it!” Fang yelled.

“Submit, l’Cie! Become Ragnarok! Lead us into the light!”

“Let her go!” she implored, unable to watch any longer. 

“We have no need of flawed l’Cie,” it simply replied.

“Orphan!” she shouted, finally coming to a decision she hadn’t wanted to make. “I’ll do it. I’ll destroy you.”

Instantly, the energy field vanished, dropping Vanille to the floor. “Ragnarok,” intoned the fal’Cie, all three of its faces turning to gaze at Fang. “The will to guide a world unto oblivion. Can you bear the sin of our salvation?”

“You heard me,” she confirmed. “I said I’ll do it!”

“You can’t!” shrieked Vanille, panicking at the thought of watching her succumb to the beast once again. “Remember what I said happened! I’ll be fine. And you can’t forget our promise—we promised to save Cocoon! We promised!” She stopped short as Fang abruptly thrust the point of her spear in front of her face. “What?”

A promise… Fang thought, taking the matching necklace in her other hand once again. The resolve she had mustered upon making that promise had been cracking and splintering since leaving Oerba, however, and watching Orphan torturing Vanille was the last straw. “I made another promise too,” she said. “To protect my family. To protect you.” 

“Fang?” asked Snow as he and the others began to regain consciousness. She was standing menacingly over Vanille with her lance drawn, and the look on her face was not one he expected of a concerned partner.

“Sometimes,” she continued, shaking her head as the twisted anger of Ragnarok began to overtake her. “You’ve gotta choose!” She swung the spear in a fit of confused anguish, and Snow leapt up, catching her before she could strike Vanille with the flat side. 

“What are you doing?” he yelled.

“Back off!” she retorted, struggling in his grasp as a thousand conflicting emotions swirled through her mind. 

“This ain’t the time to be losing it, lady!” remarked Sazh, grabbing hold of her as well as she threatened to overpower Snow alone.

“You too, huh?”

“What do you gain from hurting Vanille?” asked Lightning, standing between the girl and her partner. “You told me you loved her more than anything. Now you’re gonna turn on her? We’re in this together!”

“‘Together,’” Fang mouthed silently, livid at the irony. Together, they very well could save Cocoon, and then she would be left standing alone, a hollow, broken shell of a woman in a world not her own. Bereft of Vanille’s love and the camaraderie she had found with the other l’Cie, she knew the kind of darkness that she would be capable of. Such a creature as I would become should never be unleashed on this world.

“Stop, Fang!” cried Vanille. “Please! For my sake!”

“Fang, don’t do this,” implored Lightning, drawing her saber.

“This is my Focus,” she insisted, ignoring their pleas as she broke free of the others’ grasp. She screamed in rage, kicking Snow clear across the room. “No one’s gonna stop me!” Leaping into the air, she concentrated gravitational force into the point of her spear, plunging it into the ground to create a shockwave that blasted the others backward. In a flash, they collapsed to the ground, instantly turned to Cie’th save for Vanille, who only looked on in horror.

FIFTY-FOUR

Lightning drifted slowly through an endless gray expanse, slowly becoming aware of the others around her. “Where are we?” she tried to say, but the deafening silence surrounding her swallowed up the words as she spoke them. She could make out the figures of Hope, Sazh, and Snow in the darkness, but no others. In the distance shone a bright light, a lone beacon amidst the murky gloom, and she tried to reach for it.

As she found herself moving, she tried once again to call out to the others. She could not speak aloud, but she saw them notice her, and the four of them were drawn along toward the light. That shape… she thought as the source of the glow became visible. The same bright portal that had appeared over the skies of Eden, also here in this emptiness: the “Gate of Souls,” as Vanille had called it. Are we dead? she wondered. 

As they drifted nearer, a powerful presence seemed to reach forth from it. From its blinding center, the shapes of their four Eidolons became visible, each one reaching to take their respective l’Cie by the hand. Is it…not time yet? thought Lightning as she felt Odin leading her into the distance, backed up by the presence, warm and loving, yet unfamiliar and terrifying in its intensity. 

* * *

“Everything I do…” muttered Fang, staring in shock and anger as she and Vanille stood over the Cie’th. “Why?” she snapped. “Is this what you meant to happen?” From behind her, Orphan only laughed, taunting her.

“No…” sobbed Vanille, falling to her knees in anguish. “After all we went through!”

The four Cie’th swarmed around Fang, mindlessly beating and clawing at her until she stopped resisting. “Guess I deserve it,” she coughed, spitting out a bloody tooth as she propped herself up with the spear. “After what I did… Are they my sin to bear for choosing salvation?”

“Please!” begged Vanille. “Stop!” She didn’t care that Fang had tried to break their promise, or even that she had turned on her. It wasn’t her partner’s resolve she had felt in that moment, but rather Ragnarok’s all-consuming hatred. All that was left now, however, as Fang collapsed to the floor and the Cie’th fell into a pile atop her, was despair as deep as that felt by Orphan itself. “Stop it!” she yelled, turning to the still-laughing fal’Cie. “Give them back!”

From where she lay under the Cie’th, Fang felt her brand burn more intensely than ever before, a white-hot pain that began to melt clean through the seal that Etro had placed upon it all those centuries ago. Memories came pouring into her mind, formerly-repressed recollections of the atrocities she had been made to commit during the war. In an instant, she remembered the faces of the friends she had been made to duel to the death as part of the fal’Cie’s twisted training. She remembered the hatred and hunger of Ragnarok as it took over her psyche and turned her into a mindless abomination. She remembered the deafening screams from entire cities as they crumbled to dust before her.

“Salvation is born of sacrifice,” said Orphan as the terrible magic began to emanate from Fang’s brand, blasting the Cie’th back and twisting her once again into an avatar of pure destruction. “Miracles, of misery. From shattered shards, a new crystal legend will arise!”

“Fang, no!” screamed Vanille as her partner began to transform before her eyes. “You can’t! Remember! You have to remember!”

She did remember, however: she remembered the power. She stood up, roaring in pain as her brand began to progress, taking the shape of its final stage. She recalled the intoxicating, all-corrupting power she had felt in those final moments, and deep inside, some part of her wanted it back. The power to make the world bow down before her, to make even the fal’Cie tremble before her might, to exact her revenge on the world that had so wronged her. Vanille could only watch helplessly as the woman she loved was overtaken for a second time by the specter of the beast.

“Yes!” exclaimed Orphan as Fang’s metamorphosis was complete. “Let anger be your strength!”

Ragnarok leapt forward, her mind empty of all but the rage Orphan wanted from her. She climbed atop the fal’Cie, digging her claws into its crystal facets and spinning gears, slowly rending it apart as its inhuman faces smiled on in disconcerting bliss. Behind it, the terrifying glow of the Gate of Souls began to shine forth even in the chamber in which they stood.

“Despair!” Orphan cried as she tore at it. “Despair and save us all! Lo, the Day of Wrath is come!”

“No!” declared Vanille, standing up and holding out her staff resolutely. There was nothing she could do for the others, but she had seen Fang come back from this once before, and knew it was possible. “I won’t let you have her again!” She thrust the binding rod forward, entangling Ragnarok in its wires and roughly pulling her back. The beast, however, had taken hold of Fang completely, and had no idea who it was that had ripped her away from her latest feast. 

Ragnarok whirled around, her claws ready to tear the girl asunder. Unlike the last time so many eons ago, Vanille now knew that Fang was still in there, even if she was buried so deep that she couldn’t sense her, and so she didn’t hesitate. Emulating techniques she had seen Fang herself use countless times, she forced herself to stand firm as the beast thrashed at her, mending her own wounds instantly. 

“Get out of her!” Vanille cried, dropping the wall she kept over her empathic powers. “Leave her and give her back to me!” The soul she sensed in Ragnarok was not Fang’s own, she knew, but rather a knot of dark magic that was obscuring it. She closed her eyes, relentlessly unraveling it even as Ragnarok continued to claw at her from within the binding rod’s grasp. 

“Vanille…” mouthed Ragnarok quietly, the name coming to her mind even as she had no idea its meaning. Why do I stop struggling? she wondered. Who is this tiny morsel that would lay me low? 

“Come back to me, Fang!” she implored, releasing the tension on the binding rod’s wires as the beast grew still. “We promised we’d always be together, remember?” She knelt down, picking up Fang’s matching pendant from where it fell when it had snapped off her neck during her transformation. “Remember me!” she yelled, holding it fearlessly in front of the beast’s terrible face.

“Vanille…” Ragnarok said again, swatting the girl aside with such force as to knock her unconscious and snatching the pendant out of her hand. Why do I care about this creature? She is nothing! “I…remember…” she finally admitted, disjointed images flashing through her mind. “I…love you…” But what does that mean? What is this ‘love?’

* * *

Fang opened her eyes, the polished marble of Anima’s temple slowly coming into focus in her vision. Her weapon was missing, but she didn’t care. She looked around nervously as she came to, finally spotting Vanille sitting a few feet away, right outside the door that led to the chamber of the fal’Cie itself. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said, relieved.

“Fang!” her partner cried. “What are you doing here?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” she answered. “I’m coming with you!”

“But…” stammered Vanille. “It’s me they want. You could have—”

“Uh-uh,” she cut in, walking over and putting her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Could have what? Stood by and let them make you do this alone? Come on, Vanille. We’ve been through too much together already for that. If you’re gonna be a l’Cie, then so am I. That’s all there is to it.”

The sound of an elevator from behind the two of them interrupted their conversation before Vanille could respond, and the thirteen priests who served Anima filed in to the room, each one bearing a cold, inscrutable stare.

“Oerba Yun Fang,” called out the head priest. “Long have you been a source of trouble for this village. You have flouted every custom of the society to which you belong, and until now, we have been content to turn a blind eye to your transgressions. Today, however, you have attacked one of our priesthood: a sacred servant of our village’s protector. Have you anything to say in your defense?”

“Yeah,” she said, sauntering up to him and looking him straight in the eye. “Where Vanille goes, I go. You oughta know that by now.”

“Lady Dia has been chosen by the gods themselves,” he retorted. “Surely you are aware of the unique power she possesses. A power not even the fal’Cie are capable of granting.”

“I don’t care!” Fang shot back. “I’m staying with her. You want her, you’re gonna have to take us both!”

The leader turned around, whispering quietly as he conferred with his fellow priests for several long minutes. Finally facing her again, he spoke once more. “Normally, only those innocent and pure of heart are chosen to be l’Cie. Should we choose to make an exception for you, then let it be known that your service to Hallowed Pulse shall be your atonement for your many sins. You will comport yourself with dignity and honor befitting your sacred duty, or your life shall be forfeit. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” she muttered. “I’ll do whatever you want, as long as I can stay by Vanille’s side.”

“Very well,” said the priest. “You shall both present yourselves to fal’Cie Anima. May its guiding light grant your souls mercy.”

The glowing red sigil of Pulse faded from the double doors as they slowly opened, and the two girls nervously stepped forward together. Neither one knew what to expect; only the priests and previous l’Cie had ever been beyond this point. Before them was a dark room, the only light glinting off of a metal dome as a quiet ticking sound reverberated from walls out of sight.

“Fang,” said Vanille sorrowfully. “I never wanted you to have to get dragged into this…”

“Shh,” she reassured, taking her hand as they approached. “Nobody dragged me anywhere. I’m here because I love you. You and me, we’ll always be together. Not even a fal’Cie can take that from us.”

* * *

The magic sustaining Ragnarok’s monstrous form began to fade as Fang remembered. As intoxicating as the power was, it was not the reason she had let the priests make her a l’Cie. She had embarked on this path for no other reason than to spend eternity at Vanille’s side. Nothing else had mattered then, and nothing else mattered now as she collapsed to the ground, momentarily dazed as the power left her.

“Yet again,” admonished Orphan as she stirred. “How many times must you fail?” From its right half, the visage of Eden breathed healing magic into Fang’s body, waking her up as its left hand conjured ethereal shackles around her, lifting her up into the air.

“Let me go,” she said plaintively, the rage gone from her mind as she recalled what was truly important to her.

“Retake the form of Ragnarok,” insisted Orphan. “Deliver us that which we have too long been denied!” The fal’Cie summoned forth dark energy once more, this time surrounding Fang in its shroud of agony.

“What do you want?” she screamed as it alternated between torturing her and healing her.

“Steep yourself in hatred,” it continued. “Let it infuse your soul with the strength it craves!” Fang, however, no longer desired the power of Ragnarok. Her fury had been spent, and all she wanted now was to simply be left alone.

Vanille opened her eyes, standing up and striding forward as she saw her partner in Orphan’s cruel clutches. “Leave her alone!” she cried, drawing the binding rod.

“Your awakening demands an offering of pain!” warned Orphan, coalescing more dark energy in its left hand.

“Vanille, run!” implored Fang.

“No!” she insisted, tears in her eyes. “I swore I wouldn’t run away anymore! I’d rather fight and lose than give up without even trying!”

Just as Orphan was about to release the orb of energy at Vanille, it was rocked by a series of blasts from the back of the room, each one striking at the wounds Fang had made during her rampage as Ragnarok. The fal’Cie screamed in apparent pain, instantly releasing its hold on Fang as it staggered backwards. Before she could fall to the ground, however, she was caught by the gallant figure of Snow, striding forward with the others as if nothing had happened.

FIFTY-FIVE

“‘Miracles out of misery,’” quoted Sazh, shaking his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Yeah, Fang,” added Hope, healing her wounds as she came to once more. “Who’d be dumb enough to swallow that crock?”

“Sure, we’ve all had better weeks,” Lightning quipped, brandishing the Blazefire Saber at Orphan with one hand and carrying Fang’s spear with the other.

“You’re alive!” said Vanille incredulously.

“But you can’t be,” insisted Fang. “You had turned. All of you were Cie’th!”

“Could be more fal’Cie smoke and mirrors,” Lightning pointed out.

“Fang, I’m sorry,” said Snow.

“We made you go it alone,” Lightning added, reaching out to hand the spear back to her.

“Second time now, isn’t it?” she pointed out, shaking her head, but she took hold of it anyway, meeting Lightning’s gaze with her own.

“But where were you?” asked Vanille.

“Somewhere cold and dark,” said Hope. “Just thinking about everything that had happened up until now. And then…and then it was like—”

“It was like I had a glimpse of the future,” Snow interjected. “Everyone was smiling and laughing! Even Serah. Heck, even Light!”

“I don’t know,” said Sazh. “It was like a new Focus or something. You know, I’m thinking it didn’t really make sense of course. I mean, knowing we were worm bait and all… But, as luck would have it, the next thing I know, I felt somebody pushing me right along.”

“You were there too, Fang,” reassured Lightning. “Same side. All of us, together to the end.”

“We promised, didn’t we?” asked Vanille.

“Hm,” Fang started, the slightest smile tugging at the corners of her own face. “Wait a minute,” she added, noticing the brand on Snow’s arm had changed color. “It can’t be…” Hurriedly, she bent down to check Vanille’s, then her own. All six of them had been sealed off the same way hers had been when she first awoke from crystal. 

“Huh?” wondered Vanille.

“Well, I’ll be,” she said, breaking out into a grin. “I suppose the damn Goddess came through for us in the end, after all. Sure took Her long enough!”

“You mean…”

“Yeah,” she reassured, her mind made up now. Without the fear of losing Vanille, there was nothing left to stop her.

“The heroes never die,” said Snow, watching as Orphan slowly sank back into the pool, struggling to maintain its form and partially turning to amorphous crystal. “Come on! We’ve got a world to save!”

“If we have the power to destroy Cocoon,” realized Hope, “then we have the power to save it, too! You say you want your Day of Wrath, do you? Well, it’s coming right up!”

“Time we gave the people what they really want,” added Sazh, leveling his guns at the disintegrating fal’Cie as it disappeared beneath the surface.

“We can do it,” said Vanille, interlocking her fingers in one last prayer to Etro. “I know we can. We made it this far!”

“Right,” said Lightning, as the others nodded in agreement.

“Let’s make a real miracle happen!” she exclaimed, turning to Fang and smiling irresistably.

“Heh,” she chuckled, brandishing the spear and swaggering forward toward the pool. “Well, Lady Luck sure ain’t on his side!”

A chilling, child-like laugh issued forth from beneath the water’s surface, as Orphan reformed out of pure crystal into a smaller, leaner version of itself. The baby-like face that had adorned its center now opened its hollow, metallic eyes, surrounded only by a golden clockwork halo. “You overreach yourselves,” it warned in a youthful, yet inhuman voice.

“No,” insisted Lightning. “We overreach you.”

“Is that so?” it asked, almost genuinely seeming to entertain the thought.

“You don’t believe in anything,” she pointed out. “You gave up on life before you were even born. Sat poisoning Cocoon from the inside, waiting for someone to come and destroy you. Sure, you think the end of the world is salvation. All you care about is death’s release! So take it, and leave the rest of us alone! We don’t think like that.”

“You would proclaim greater wisdom than a fal’Cie?” asked Orphan. “Folly.”

“Maybe,” continued Lightning. “But when we think there’s no hope left, we keep looking until we find some. Maybe Cocoon is past saving, but it’s our home! And we’ll protect it or die trying. We live to make the impossible possible. That is our Focus!”

“Ignorant slaves of Pulse!” chided the fal’Cie ironically. “Does eternity not entice you? Then you choose the path of oblivion!” It let out a bloodcurdling, inhuman scream, smiling maliciously at the six of them, taking their souls captive as Barthandelus had once done. The face in the center pivoted back, revealing a terrible metallic mouth that spat forth flames at them. From within, a long, flexible tongue extended, terminating in a hand that slapped them back with enough force to knock them all to the ground.

“It’s time for payback,” said Fang, jumping up and striking Orphan again and again with her lance. The fal’Cie, however, seemed invulnerable to her blows, still shielded by a strange energy. “Dammit!”

“No good,” warned Lightning, summoning forth bolts of her namesake element to no avail as well. “We need a different approach.” 

“Curse upon curse!” Orphan screeched, its face flipping back once again to form a mechanical eye which fired blasts of energy that seared skin.

I know what I have to do, thought Vanille, stepping forward as the others pelted Orphan with attacks that it simply shrugged off.

“Vanille?” asked Fang, concerned. “You don’t have to—”

“This is my chance to make everything right!” she insisted. Dropping the veil from her darkest emotions, she confronted Orphan’s despair head-on, the color draining from her face as she tore at its alien psyche, thread by thread. The fal’Cie screamed once more, its clockwork halo turning inside out to reveal a disturbingly infantile, humanoid figure surrounded by a shawl of living metal that echoed the shape of the ethereal gateway behind it. 

Instantly, Fang’s spear found purchase on its surface, launching it into the air as chunks of crystal came loose from its body. “Everyone, now!” she called out.

“With pleasure,” replied Sazh, opening fire. 

Vanille stumbled back, catching her breath as the others continued to attack it. “No,” she whispered as the darkness threatened to consume her again. “I can control it. I must control it!” Steeling her mind, she forced herself to think of happier memories even as Orphan’s own anguish flooded her thoughts. Desperately, she recalled moments of the friendships she had forged with her fellow l’Cie in the face of every wrong she had committed, pulling herself back from the brink.

Orphan, however, was proving more resilient than it seemed at first. Despite appearing heavily damaged, an eerie smile spread across its face as it instantly regenerated its halo, becoming impervious to their attacks once more. “Surrender your will!” it called out, striking at them again with its metallic tongue. “Unleash your rage!”

Lightning stumbled back as a brilliant light issued forth from the fal’Cie, its halo spinning as the damage she and the others had done to it healed within seconds. Propping herself up with the point of the Blazefire Saber, she panted heavily as Orphan’s curse upon her soul began to wear her down. If they didn’t kill it soon, she knew, they would all perish here. “Odin!” she cried, tossing the Eidolon’s crystal into the air and striking it. “Help us!”

As with Barthandelus, Odin’s magic counteracted Orphan’s curse, but could not reverse it completely. His blows pierced the fal’Cie’s shielding, carving once more into its metallic skin, but Orphan simply laughed at them again, healing itself completely from every cut of the Eidolon’s mystical blade. Instead, it blasted energy waves back at the l’Cie, scorching skin and shattering bones.

It’s not going to work, Vanille realized, watching even as the other l’Cie summoned their Eidolons as well, trying to overwhelm Orphan with sheer force. There are only two ways to end this. Ragnarok, or me. Holding the binding rod in front of her, she stepped forward, dropping control over herself and letting the darkness pour through unabated.

“Vanille!” Fang called from atop Bahamut, firing laser blasts at the fal’Cie in vain. “Don’t!”

She ignored her partner’s warnings, however. This was the reason she had been chosen all those years ago, for a power even the fal’Cie feared. Fang had tried to protect her from it since the beginning, and the results had been disastrous. If she didn’t use her power now, Orphan would kill the six of them, and the cycle would begin once again with a fresh batch of l’Cie.

* * *

“Oerba Dia Vanille,” called the head priest as Vanille strode nervously into the temple. She and Fang had drawn the ire of the priests many times before, but this was the first time either one had been summoned to the temple. “Step forward.”

“Yes?” she responded nervously.

“As you are well aware since the fall of Haeri, the demons of Cocoon grow ever bolder with each passing day. They violate our lands with impunity, and show no regard for the lives they destroy. This cannot stand. It is the will of Hallowed Pulse that they answer for these transgressions. We are to go to war, and eliminate their foul nest from our sky once and for all.”

“Yes…?” Vanille started to say. “I…I’m not sure I…”

“Miss Dia, you have been chosen,” the priest continued. “Our enemy is not only the people of Cocoon, but the hateful fal’Cie whom they serve. Your ability to hear the whispers of the soul means you can know their weaknesses. You shall become l’Cie, and gain the power to smite these blasphemous minions of Lindzei!”

“Your Eminence?” she asked. “I am no warrior. I’m not sure I—”

“You dare defy the will of Hallowed Pulse?” accused another of the priests.

“N—no sir,” she admitted. “Of course not. If it is truly His will that I become a l’Cie, of course I will obey. I merely meant to question my own ability.”

“Our Focus has shown us the way,” confirmed the head priest. “Our armies shall be led by a woman who still bears the eyes of a child, upon whom the gods themselves have bestowed divine power. She shall become the sacred beast Ragnarok, and be granted the strength to tear Cocoon from the sky once and for all.”

“I…I understand,” said Vanille with trepidation. Of all the fates she had feared coming to pass since she and Fang had returned to the village, this had never even crossed her mind. She had known war was likely, but thought if either of them were to be called to battle, it would be Fang. Not once had she considered that her empathic abilities could be used to harm others, let alone that she had the power to destroy fal’Cie.

* * *

Vanille bent forward, struggling to breathe as Orphan’s curse continued to drain her of all vital energy. A quick glance around told her the others were nearly ready to succumb as well, and their Eidolons were barely able to stay manifested. “No,” she whispered, forcing herself to stand upright once more. “You will not have them.”

She began to recall every disturbing memory she had tried to seal away, deliberately reliving the darkest moments of the war, all the while reaching out through her mind to share her pain and misery with Orphan. The power ravaged through her, turning her skin blanched white and her hair and eyes as black as sin. 

“Vanille!” she heard Fang cry out, but she refused to be protected anymore.

“You’re mine!” Vanille insisted, funneling every ounce of darkness and despair into Orphan, unrelenting as the fal’Cie began to scream. As she did so, she could feel the weight of her emotional burden lifting, as if Orphan was absorbing it right out of her. “Take it all,” she added, a smile spreading over her face once again as she realized her memories could no longer hurt her. 

“What have you done?” screeched Orphan, its golden metal halo spinning faster as it tried to process the onslaught of pain that Vanille had carried for so long. Although fal’Cie were not quite devoid of emotion, there was no way for it to comprehend the complex and distinctly human feelings coming from a girl forced to grow up way before her time.

“Now, pop,” said Vanille, smiling genuinely with newfound freedom as the darkness left her completely, crushing Orphan’s alien soul instead. The curse instantly lifted from the six l’Cie as Orphan screamed again, explosions issuing forth as its systems overloaded.

“Vanille?” asked Fang nervously.

“I’m okay,” she reassured, the normal color returning to her face. “It’s gone now! It’s finally, finally gone!” She folded up the binding rod, letting her partner sweep her into an embrace as tears of joy flowed down her cheeks.

“Umm…” warned Sazh as the glow from the Gate of Souls began to intensify with Orphan’s death, opening wider as it absorbed the fal’Cie’s energy.

“We’re here to stop him,” Lightning reminded the others. “We’ve come to save Cocoon, right?”

“Right!” answered Snow.

FIFTY-SIX

With Orphan gone, the half-dreamed dimension it had inhabited instantly dissolved around the l’Cie, leaving them in free-fall high above the city of Eden. The glow of Phoenix dimmed, then went out completely as one by one, the fal’Cie of Cocoon began to shut down, Orphan’s death spreading through their network like a computer virus. Without power from the fal’Cie, even the city lights flickered out, leaving only the otherworldly glow of the Gate of Souls for illumination.

“Stay together!” called Lightning as the six of them fell. She could feel her body beginning to crystallize; Cocoon had already begun to fall, and if they did nothing at this point, they would have completed their Focus. 

“Hey, grab my hand,” said Sazh, reaching out for the others.

“Okay!” replied Hope, joining hands with him, Snow, and Lightning in desperation. The fact was, as powerful as they had become, they still did not know how to prevent Cocoon’s fall. The artificial gravity networks of the major cities had remained operational on reserve power due to Cid Raines’s foresight, but it would mean little if the entire world were to crash onto the surface of Gran Pulse below.

“Fang! Vanille!” cried Snow, noticing the two of them had drifted away in the chaos.

The two Pulsian women looked up at the others, then at each other. They had been the ones to set this fate in motion, and they knew they were the ones that had to end it. “Vanille?” asked Fang, still unsure herself. “Can we really do this?”

“Ragnarok can,” she answered. “Only we can do this.”

“No! You’ve seen what happens!”

“Not you,” insisted Vanille. “Us. Together! Your strength. My heart. Together, we can control it. We can hold up the whole world with the power of our love! I’m sure of it!” She took hold of Fang’s hands, looking deep into her eyes. “I’m ready. Let’s make our own miracle, right here, right now.”

“Very well,” said Fang. She took a deep breath, returning Vanille’s gaze and holding on tightly as she called on the ancient magic one final time. This time, as they let go, they began to transform together, feeling their individual selves ecstatically melt into one as they merged into a single being: their intimate bond manifesting in a massive, much more powerful incarnation of Ragnarok than Fang alone had been able to embody.

Bearing features of both Bahamut and Hecatoncheir, their combined form roared as they landed on the roof of Edenhall, creating a magical shockwave that swept through the city and vaporized the rampaging creatures from the Ark. As Vanille had predicted, her gentle heart and empathic powers softened the beast’s terrible nature, allowing them direct its fury and remember their promise to save Cocoon even as they were subsumed by its instincts.

Their minds one as well, they leapt from the floating city to the ground far below, an area at Cocoon’s very bottom where the heat generated by its falling mass had begun to render the shell into molten lava. Diving headfirst into the liquefied rock, they swam completely through it, emerging on the outer surface. 

Plunging their hundred hands back into the rapidly-disintegrating bottom shell, Ragnarok reversed the pull of gravity underneath Cocoon, causing an immense fountain of water to erupt from the Pulsian seas below. The molten shell cooled instantly at the point of contact, and they drew the spray up and over Cocoon, gently cradling the world as they crystallized the water just as Anima had done to Lake Bresha within, forming a solid pillar of support.

Using the last of Ragnarok’s power, they plucked their fellow l’Cie from the air, depositing them safely to the surface of Gran Pulse. With Cocoon’s fall thus halted, Fang and Vanille began to separate from their combined state into two individuals once more.

“I knew we could do it,” Vanille whispered, a beautiful smile spread across her face.

“Hm,” mused Fang. “I guess when prayers turn to promises, not even fate can stand in their way, eh?”

“Nope,” she giggled, kissing Fang tenderly.

“I love you so much, Vanille,” said Fang. “Thank you. You saved me, as well.” She searched within, but the echo of the beast was gone for good, banished forever by Vanille’s gentle love. She closed her eyes blissfully as their bodies began to solidify, locked in an eternal crystal embrace at the center of the pillar, where they would dream a thousand lifetimes together. It was their own private heaven, and it was all they needed.

* * *

Lightning opened her eyes, coming back to life and blinking in the bright Gran Pulse sunlight as the crystal dust sloughed off of her skin. She looked up, almost incredulous at the sight. Cocoon, held up by an enormous tower of crystal, the catastrophe averted in the nick of time. Her fellow l’Cie had awakened around her, but a quick glance confirmed what she had suspected: Fang and Vanille were not among them.

“They did it,” she said, still almost afraid to believe it. “They saved the world.”

“No,” Snow pointed out. “They gave us a new one.” Even from this distance, they could see airships circling around the crystal pillar, transporting crowds of refugees to the surface. Although casualties had been kept to a minimum, much of Cocoon had still been rendered uninhabitable, and for the first time in centuries, humanity was venturing out into the wider world below.

“That’s one gift I’ll forgive ‘em for not wrapping!” joked Sazh.

“Yeah,” laughed Hope. “Does this mean we completed our Focus?”

“Cocoon’s seen better days, that’s for sure,” said Snow.

“Yeah, I’d say that qualifies as a demolition,” Sazh added. “Focus complete.”

“It really is a miracle,” said Lightning, smiling.

“My brand!” Hope exclaimed, looking down at his wrist. “It’s gone!”

“Huh?” asked Lightning, as she and the others checked where their own marks had been. It made no sense, but their brands had truly vanished. “Could they have…?”

“I don’t know,” said Hope. “In a world as big as this…who knows?” Silently, he put his hands together, imitating the prayer gesture Vanille had made many times. Perhaps she and Fang had found a way, or perhaps they had beseeched the gods for divine intervention. Either way, they had a new chance at life, yet another miracle.

“Is that…?” wondered Lightning, peering out at two figures striding toward them from the distance.

“Huh?” said Sazh. The figures were quite familiar, one adult and one child, and he almost didn’t dare believe.

“And, and, and there was this whole big bunch of chocobos there!” came the child’s voice, drifting across the wind as he spoke to the other one.

Instantly, the chocobo chick fluttered out of Sazh’s hair, chirping excitedly and flying off as the figures became clearly visible as Serah and Dajh.

“Hey,” said Serah, pointing to the group of former l’Cie. “Look there!”

“Daddy!” Dajh called out, breaking into a run.

“Serah!” cried Snow, he and Sazh both sprinting forward to meet their loved ones.

“It is!” said Lightning, her reserved expression belying the relief she felt.

“Serah!” Snow repeated, picking her up and sweeping her into an embrace. “You’re all right, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” she reassured. “I’m fine!”

Hope sighed, watching their reunions wistfully as Snow and Serah kissed, and Sazh carried Dajh on his shoulders. He was happy for them, but it still seemed just slightly quieter than it should have been, without Vanille’s giggles and Fang’s sardonic humor. “They’re gone, aren’t they?” he asked.

“Hey,” said Lightning, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“I guess they meant for this to be goodbye. Then again,” he added, “we’ve changed our fates before. Maybe we will see them again someday.”

“For what it’s worth,” she told him, “I think they’re probably happy, wherever they are.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “They have each other, after all.”

“Light!” came Serah’s voice as she ran over to hug her sister. “I missed you!”

“Serah…” said Lightning. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured.

“Hey!” interjected Snow playfully. “Come on, the apologies can wait! We’ve got a wedding to plan! You are gonna allow it, right?”

“Wow, you don’t waste any time, do you?” Hope joked.

“No, I don’t,” he agreed. 

“That’s right!” added Sazh with a laugh. “Just charge in, guns blazing!”

“I swear to you, I will make her happy,” he reassured.

“I believe you,” said Lightning, seeing how happy they already were together. “Congrats.”

“Shall we, then?” asked Serah, looking back at the impromptu refugee camp springing up in the distance.

“I wonder how we’ll be received, after all this,” mused Hope. “People still might not be happy to see us.”

“We’ll make them understand,” said Snow. “There’s no hiding the truth at this point.”

“Right-o,” added Sazh as the chocobo chick chirped reassuringly. “What was it Vanille said? ‘On Gran Pulse, we’re all family,’ right?”

“Yeah,” agreed Lightning. “Let’s go.”

With that, they started off for the gathering crowd. Humanity had been saved, but the real work of rebuilding civilization without the comforts of Cocoon and the fal’Cie had just begun, and the four of them were the only ones who had survived in the Pulsian wilderness before. It would take time for people to adjust, Lightning knew, but they would be welcome once more.

EPILOGUE: SALVATION

The Goddess Etro had watched in horror as the cycle had begun once more. There was nothing She could do as the fal’Cie had descended into madness, preparing their genocidal sacrifice to call out to the Maker. All that was left had been to place Her faith in the l’Cie they had chosen, that they might stop Lindzei’s foul plan. 

When they had faltered, She had sent Her Eidolons to them, one by one to keep them on the path. When all hope seemed lost, that they would turn to Cie’th, She had pushed their souls back, sealing their brands that they may fight without fear. Now, as a new dawn finally broke on Gran Pulse, and humanity set forth from Lindzei’s horrid Cocoon, She reached Her hands down from Valhalla to wake the l’Cie, and strike the brands from their skin once and for all.

Her only lament was that She could not do the same for Ragnarok and her lover. They could only sleep in crystal, holding up the empty Cocoon lest it fall and destroy humanity’s fragile new lease on life. And so for them, She crafted a world of dreams, so perfect it was almost indistinguishable from reality, that they could spend eternity at each other’s side.

Her tasks complete, Etro wept once more, but this time they were tears of joy, for this was the beginning of a new era of peace. Humanity had come of age at last, and this was a time in which there would no longer be need of l’Cie to carry out the will of the gods.