Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In all the ways that mattered, Kain Highwind had known Rosa Farrell their entire lives. He’d been two years old, barely more than a baby himself, when he first held her as a tiny newborn. Peering down into her wrinkled face, he was surprised when she suddenly came alert and looked at him, her eyes big and blue, eerily mirroring his own. He fell in love immediately, as children do, and was fiercely fascinated and enthralled by this new person. 

One of his first concrete memories was teaching Rosa, then a toddler herself on unsure legs, how to walk. He just knew that once Rosa was walking on her own, then their adventures could begin in earnest. He held her by her hands, carefully balancing her as she stumbled. At first, she clutched his hands tightly, casting unsure glances back at him after each uncertain wobble. But with his encouraging words, she became more confident, not realizing when he finally let go and she walked on without him. 

Kain was right about their adventures. By the time Rosa was four and Kain six, they were running wild together through the streets of Baron, finding mischief around every corner. For most children, the distance of two years and of different genders was too huge to bridge, but it did not deter Kain and Rosa’s friendship from developing. 

It helped, of course, that their families were so close. Roland Farrell, Rosa’s father, and Richard Highwind, Kain’s father, worked together in countless military operations, the first as a well decorated knight, the second as the Dragoon commander. Joanna Farrell, Rosa’s mother, joined them often as a white mage for support. Thus, they raised their small families together, each supporting the other through difficult times. 

It was Joanna and Roland who had been there for the Highwind family when Kain’s mother died shortly after his birth. While she had survived the delivery, she’d lost too much blood and was weakened, and did not make through the winter cold and its usual illnesses. Kain was three months old when they buried his mother and Richard found himself alone raising an infant. 

Kain had fond memories of Joanna and Roland, bringing over meals to share while Joanna fussed about his clothes and how quickly he was outgrowing them. She didn’t try to mother him, not overtly, but her maternal presence was still felt, and it was often Joanna’s hand behind Kain getting what he needed throughout childhood: clean clothes, new books, a haircut, a gentle reminder to scrub under his nails more thoroughly, and a tight hug whenever they parted. 

More than once, Rosa and Kain had been mistaken for siblings, someone remarking how much their coloring matched, but both shrugged it off easily. Blonde hair and blue eyes were not that uncommon – but it was a nice daydream, at times, to pretend they were all one family. Kain and Rosa could stay up all night planning their adventures, then waste no time getting to them once it was morning. For now, though, Kain would have to settle to running over to her house once he’d wolfed down his breakfast. 

Baron children were all offered access to education, starting at the age of eight, for those whose families could survive without their labor. A general education in reading, writing, basic arithmetic, and history was provided until the age of thirteen. King Odin’s policy was that an educated citizen would be a more loyal one, as they would know of Baron’s mighty presence in the world, and it would help fuel their patriotism. 

Thirteen-year-old children could then choose to pre-enlist in Baron’s military, joining a cadet rank until they reached their majority. From here, their education continued. Academically, they learned more advanced concepts, such as political science and how Baron influenced current world events. Students also received general combat training in all weapon types, chocobo riding lessons, and general survival and field skills. As they grew older and developed more sophisticated skills, more specific training was offered to students who showed an aptitude. 

By the end of their student career, a cadet would have been assessed and tested by recruiters from each interested division. These divisions would make offers to the newly graduated citizens. If no offers were made, the citizen would have to return to civilian life and figure out another path. 

For Kain, starting school was both exciting and terrible, because it meant his world opened, but it did so without Rosa. Every morning he left her behind, trying not to imagine her eyes on his back as he walked, feeling somehow disturbed by it. He would spend the day taking meticulous notes, writing down every word from the lectures, paired with detailed drawings. 

Every afternoon Kain would return home to an eagerly awaiting Rosa, who pored over his notes and asked endless questions about the content. Teaching her helped reinforce the material for Kain, who grew a reputation for being a smart, sharp boy. By the summer of her eighth birthday, just before she was to finally start school herself, Rosa could already read faster than Kain, had neater handwriting, and could do sums without her fingers.  

As an adult, Kain would reflect that summer as the most perfect one of his life, and the last true summer of his childhood. It was the last time they would be together as just themselves, partners, arm in arm against the world.  

Then, they met Cecil. 

On the morning of Rosa’s first day of school, Kain’s father stopped him just as Kain was leaving the house. 

“I want to talk to you about something,” Richard started, sounding uncertain about his words. Kain turned away from the door, looking expectantly at his father, who looked unusually awkward. “I know you’re close with Rosa,” Richard continued, and his nervous energy made Kain suddenly anxious himself, unsure of what would make someone as brave as Richard act this way.  “And it’s good that you are friends. But I want you to keep something in mind.” 

“Yes, Father?” Kain prompted when Richard had gone quiet.  

“I only want to ask...” Richard said, his voice going soft and serious. “If you ever feel something more than friendship, I want you to come talk to me.” 

“What do you mean?” Kain asked, not grasping the meaning of what his father asked. 

Richard drew in a deep breath, steeled himself, then spoke again, this time more firmly, “I only mean that as you get older, you may start noticing girls in a new way. That’s a normal thing, but it’s different with Rosa. She’s like your--” 

“My sister!” Kain interjected excitedly, romanced as always by the notion of them being one large extended family.  

Richard looked relieved, some of the tension went out of him. “Yes, your sister,” he echoed with a deep exhale. “And you must always think of her that way and protect her.” 

Kain drew himself to his full ten-year-old height and squared his shoulders, his chest puffed up. “Why would I do otherwise?” he asked in earnest, not understanding where this sudden conversation was coming from.  

Richard considered Kain for a long moment, then smiled, though it was small and sad. “It will be something you’ll understand more as you get older.” Richard clapped his hand to Kain’s shoulder, gripping him tightly but fondly. “We’ll talk more when I get home from Eblan in a few days.” 

“You’re leaving this morning?” Kain asked. 

“First airship out,” Richard confirmed with a new smile. “Joanna will keep an eye on you while I’m gone.” Richard reached past Kain, opening the door to the outside. “Make sure you focus on your studies and training.” 

“I will,” Kain promised, giving his father one last smile before slipping out the door. 

Rosa was waiting for Kain when he emerged from his house. At first, he was surprised to see her, then, he was surprised to see what she was wearing. 

“Are you wearing a dress?” Kain asked, incredulously. She had always worn trousers, making it easier to run, climb, and keep up with him. It was a simple red dress, with a practical apron tied around the front. It was just like the dresses the girls at school wore, Kain realized with dawning horror. “You don’t have to, you know, just because you’re a.... girl ,” he said the last with disgust, as if the taste of the word on his tongue was off-putting.  

“Maybe I want to,” Rosa replied, smoothing out the material with the palm of her hand. As her hair moved, Kain noticed something red flashing within the uncharacteristically neat blonde strands. She saw the line of his gaze and touched her fingers to it in a self-conscious gesture, and Kain realized they were matching hair ribbons. “Do I look bad?” Rosa asked, her voice small. 

“No,” Kain said, some unknown emotion squeezing his heart, making his words tight. He knew then he might lose her today, that she might find a better friend than him, someone she liked more. Worse, she might find one of the groups of girls and suddenly be an actual girl, somehow alien and terrifying. “You look very nice,” he finally managed. His father’s warning came inexplicably to mind, and the impossible idea of his feelings about Rosa changing seemed suddenly closer.  

Rosa smiled, unaware of Kain’s inner turmoil or the precipice of change they now stood upon. Somehow, the sight was a balm to his troubled soul, and he felt his heart ease. Richard’s words became a distant thought. 

In the colder dark months, eligible children gathered at the castle’s main hall, and learned letters and other lessons by the hearthside, for both light and warmth. They were given a hot meal, and for the poorer children, it was their only meal of the day. As they grew older, it was common for those living in poverty to enlist just to keep the stability of daily meals and shelter.  

Rosa’s face lit with wonder as they entered the castle, clutching at Kain’s arm for security. It was not the first time she’d been to the castle. She’d often come, to attend one ceremony or another for her parents, but it was her first time without them and Kain could sense nervous energy radiating off her. 

“I bet you won’t be the only new kid,” Kain said, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the castle’s interior. “I’m guessing more are back in town now that the harvest is done.” 

“You think so?” Rosa asked, sounding hopeful. 

“Yeah,” Kain agreed easily, glad to see her perking up. “In fact...” he continued, as they entered the main hall. He looked around quickly, sorting through all the familiar faces, until -- “Him,” Kain declared with determined certainty, then pointed. “He’s new. I don’t know him. I bet there are others, too.” 

The boy in question stood off by himself, looking uncertainly around him. He had an odd look to him, a soft paleness in his gray wispy hair and faraway eyes. He wore similar clothing to Kain – a simple blue tunic and trousers but lacked any of the usual tears or worn-out spots that usually characterized boys’ clothing.  

Rosa peered ahead, then her eyes went wide. “I know of him,” she said with a conspiratorial whisper. “That’s Cecil Harvey. I heard Mama talking about him. She said he’s King Odin’s heir and it’s supposed to be a big secret, but everyone knows.” 

“Why haven’t we seen him before?” Kain asked.  

“He grew up on the Harvey estate but doesn’t have any family. The last Harvey of any rank died without issue, so Cecil is supposed to be some long-lost cousin,” Rosa answered, still whispering. “I suppose if he’s here, the King is preparing him to be declared the heir.” 

“How do you know that’s him?” Kain scowled in skepticism.  

“Apparently he looks odd,” Rosa replied, then frowned. “But I don’t think so much odd, just... unusual.” Her frown faded as she looked back to the boy named Cecil, and a slow smile emerged. “Almost beautiful, in an eerie sort of way.” 

Kain turned to look back at Cecil with Rosa’s new perspective. Something hot clawed at his guts, sinking greedy fingers into his anxious belly. “I think he looks weird,” Kain said as his scowl deepened. “I want you to stay away from that freak.” He tugged at her arm, to lead her away and toward one of the large hearths against the long walls but found her resistant, holding firm against his pull.  

When Kain looked back at Rosa, she was still watching Cecil, and he recognized the fascination on her face. The uncomfortably hot feeling migrated up into his chest, squeezing hard on his heart, and Kain Highwind felt his first pang of envy.  

Kain watched Cecil from a distance all day, while a new fury boiled within him, made only worse whenever he caught Rosa also looking Cecil’s way. Kain resolved, several times, not to care, and to only focus on the lessons and helping Rosa through hers. But soon after, he’d find his traitorous eyes wandering, and they’d find Cecil again, like a sore in his mouth he couldn’t leave alone.  

At some point, Rosa left, to find more parchment, and Kain found he could no longer ignore the roar of his own angry blood. With tight fists at his side, Kain approached Cecil from behind, who stood off by himself, as he had been all day. 

“So, you’re Cecil,” Kain announced. He stood tall, with his legs braced apart and his arms at his sides. 

Cecil turned to face Kain, genuine curiosity on his strange features as he asked, “Who are you?” 

“I’m Kain,” Kain blurted out, suddenly awkward in the proximity of this new person. He couldn’t quite get over how Cecil didn’t quite look human, there was something uncanny about Cecil’s features and coloring. “Kain Highwind,” he corrected, then added spontaneously, “My father is Sir Richard Highwind.” When that prompted no response from Cecil, Kain continued, “He’s the commander of the Dragoons.”  

Cecil could not have missed Kain’s palpable hostility, but still, he maintained a neutral expression, then said quietly, “Pleased to meet you.” 

“Don’t think you can be friends with me,” Kain spat, then turned away dismissively, but continued in a mutter, “Just because the king treats you like you’re special.”  

“What did you say?” Finally, there was some emotion in Cecil, a new anger making his voice go high. Kain heard the steps as Cecil quickly approached. 

Kain turned to meet Cecil. “Want a fight, do you?” Cecil stopped short before Kain, but had his fists raised up. “What’s a soft, spoiled little boy like you going to do to me?” Kain asked, drawing his own fists up.  

“I’m not spoiled!” Cecil protested, looking somehow both hurt and angry. 

Kain lunged forward and grabbed Cecil by a handful of his shirt, while raising his other hand in a fist over Cecil’s head. “Talk back to me, will you?” As the taller and older of the two boys, Kain loomed over Cecil. This was a new feeling for Kain, this satisfaction of being better than someone. He was surprised to find how much he liked it. 

“Stop!” Rosa shouted from nearby, making Kain’s blood run cold.  

“Rosa!” Kain exclaimed in shock as he released Cecil. Kain turned to face Rosa and her serious glare. His stomach dropped as he saw her approach, as he saw not anger on her face, but disappointment.  

“’Men of Baron do not fight without just cause.’ That’s what His Majesty has taught us, isn’t it?” Rosa asked Kain, the question sounding gentle.  

“But he’s the one who--” Kain started, unsure of what he was going to say next. He’s the one you can’t stop staring at.   

“Dragoons don’t make excuses,” Rosa said, reminding Kain of what his father often said. She knew it, too, spoke it with that expectation because she knew him so well.  

“I know that!” Kain shot back, trying not to sound defensive but failing. 

“I started it,” Cecil said unexpectedly from behind Kain. 

Rosa looked beyond Kain to Cecil, taking the opportunity to frankly look Cecil up and down. Once her assessment was made, her serious expression softened as she smiled, “You’re an honest one, aren’t you?” 

“See?” Kain nudged Rosa with his elbow, trying to get her attention back. “It wasn’t my fault.” 

Rosa looked between the two with new amusement in her eyes. She stifled a giggle with her hand unsuccessfully. “I guess it wasn’t,” she concluded through a laugh. 

Kain wanted to ask what was so funny, but one of their tutors, finally noticing their absence, called out sharply for Rosa and Kain. As they trudged back to their spots, Kain cast one last curious glance back at Cecil, who, strangely enough, smiled back at Kain.  

“I don’t want to see him,” Kain said with a sulk to Rosa, as they walked out of the castle.  

“Too late!” Rosa said with a perky energy that inexplicably irritated Kain. “I already told him to meet us at your house and where to find it.” 

“Why my house?” Kain asked, feeling exasperated.  

Rosa scowled at the question. “My mother is suddenly worried about me and boys. Especially you. I don’t know why she’s so concerned because that stuff is gross.” She rolled her eyes; it was a new expression she had recently learned. Then, she said more seriously, “But I don’t want to worry her more by bringing another boy around.” 

Kain had more questions about why Joanna would worry about him and wondered if it had anything to do with the conversation with Richard. What stuff is gross? He wasn’t sure but decided to leave the questions unasked for now.  

Cecil found them outside Kain’s house, where Kain and Rosa were waiting. 

“Hi,” Cecil said with an awkward wave to both. “Listen,” he continued with a small sigh. “If this is just to get me alone so you can beat me up, just let me know now. I don’t want to...” Cecil paused, looking distant. “Please don’t pretend to be my friend.” 

“It’s not that,” Rosa said quickly, looking between Kain and Cecil. “We want to be friends, don’t we Kain?” 

Kain only grumbled in reply, but it was apparently enough to convince Cecil. The strange boy’s whole face lit up with genuine joy. “Really?” Cecil asked, not trusting himself yet to believe. But at Rosa’s eager nod and Kain’s indifferent shrug, a huge smile broke out across Cecil’s mouth. “What do you wanna do?” 

“Do you spar?” Kain asked, before Rosa could make her helpful suggestion of showing Cecil around Baron. “Most kids don’t begin weapons training until they enlist at thirteen,” Kain said matter of factly, then, his tone more casual, “Except royalty, of course. They have a weapon in hand as soon as their hands can make a grip.” 

“And commanders’ children?” Cecil asked as he stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest.  

The question made Kain crack an unexpected grin. “Yeah, I guess. Wanna have a go?” Kain nodded back toward his house. “My father has a small training yard set up in the courtyard. The real weapons are locked up, but the training swords are out.” 

While Cecil considered the proposition, Rosa rolled her eyes again. “Are you two really going to fight?” she asked.  

“Spar,” Kain corrected her. “There’s a difference.” 

“Are we allowed to do this?” Cecil asked carefully. “Will your father be upset if he finds us?” 

“Both of our fathers are out on a mission,” Rosa offered. “They’re airship bound for Eblan. Something to do with increased monster activity around the Tower of Babil” 

Cecil looked between both Rosa and Kain, then shrugged. “Why not?”  

Kain led them both inside, then into the open courtyard. Two straw dummies stood opposite each other, and a rack of practice weapons sat upright against a low garden wall. Kain crossed to the rack and pulled out a wooden sword, twirling it experimentally in the air.  

Beside Kain, Cecil picked up another. He took several steps away, and began testing the weight of the weapon, trying out its balance. Cecil practiced a few thrusts, and his form was perfect, the evidence of hours of diligent practice. Cecil looked collected and calm as he did so, and his utter perfection infuriated Kain in a way that was breathtaking.  

“Are you ready?” Kain asked, trying to sound annoyed instead of distracted.  

Cecil took a practiced inhale, then sighed it out with a nod. “I am ready.” 

Their swords met in a chaotic whirlwind of wooden clacks, with Kain as the aggressor from the start. Kain pushed hard into Cecil’s defenses, whipping the wooden sword back and forth, trying to catch the new kid off guard. Cecil surprised him, however, and Kain recognized the strength in Cecil’s defense and how sturdy he stood against Kain’s attack. 

As the fight wore on, Kain found his anger growing instead of shrinking. Usually, sparring allowed him to clear his head, to push aside the troublesome thoughts and only focus on his breathing and the movement of his body in concert with his weapon. But today, his anger cast a red haze over his concentration, and Kain found himself increasingly infuriated with each blow Cecil blocked. 

Kain’s technique soon grew sloppy, making desperate lunges and leaving himself unguarded. Cecil took advantage, pushing forward to land a hard blow on Kain’s forearm, forcing Kain’s grip to loosen and he dropped his sword. The worst part was that Kain knew in that instant that Cecil held back and softened the attack, not striking Kain’s arm as hard as he could, and that was somehow more enraging than being defeated in the first place. 

“Again,” Kain demanded as he bent to retrieve his dropped sword. “You hold too much back,” Kain said as he took up position opposite of Cecil. 

“And you push too hard,” Cecil countered easily.  

“You’re both stupid,” Rosa remarked from the sidelines. 

As Kain raised his wooden sword to attack again, a sudden commotion sounded from inside the house. Both he and Cecil lowered their weapons as two Baron soldiers entered the courtyard. 

“What’s going on?” Kain demanded, pulling himself up to his full height. With his father gone, Kain was the man of the household, and all who entered must answer to him. 

“Rosa and Kain, you need to come with us,” said one soldier, whom Kain recognized as a friend of both Richard’s and Roland’s, often visiting the two families. His face was oddly pale and drawn, harsh lines evident in his grave expression. 

“Lord Harvey,” said the second soldier, recognizing Cecil and falling into a quick perfunctory bow. “Forgive the intrusion, my lord, but I should escort you back to the castle.” 

“And these two? What’s going on?” Cecil asked with easy authority and an expectation that he’d answered. Somehow, Cecil taking charge in Kain’s own home only further fanned the flames of his resentment.  

Worse yet, the soldier answered. “There’s been an emergency afield.” Then, the soldier shook his head. “The rest will have to be explained later. Please, come with us.”  

The seriousness of the soldier’s request made a creeping finger of dread crawl up Kain’s spine. “Come on, Rosa,” Kain said, dropping his wooden sword carelessly to the ground. He took Rosa’s hand in his, possessively clutching it; she was his only lifeline in the face of the oncoming uncertainty.  

“What’s going on?” Rosa repeated the question in a hushed whisper, as if Kain had more insight than her. 

“I don’t know,” Kain answered honestly. He didn’t spare a glance for Cecil but trusted the second soldier would take him back to the castle, and Cecil could go back to the pampered life which awaited him, while Rosa and Kain faced whatever terrible news was waiting for them. 

The soldier guided them through the streets, and Kain became acutely and uncomfortably aware of other villagers stopping to point and whisper as they passed by. He could vaguely pick up bits of conversation. 

“I heard it crashed over the ocean--” 

“.... a mechanical failure in the engines....” 

“--no survivors so far, but they’re still searching the wreckage--” 

And the snippets made him clutch Rosa’s hand even tighter. 

Joanna was waiting for them when they entered the Farrell home. Immediately she crossed the room to them and embraced Kain and Rosa, one arm circled around each. The tightness of her hold terrified Kain and he knew then that something was very wrong. 

“I’m so sorry,” Joanna said through muffled sobs into Rosa’s hair. “Your father is gone....” 

“Whose?” Kain demanded, pushing back from Joanna, to watch her face for any indication of what she might mean. “Who is gone?” In a moment that he would feel guilty about his entire life, he selfishly wished it were Roland. Rosa could endure, as he had, with only one parent. But without Richard, Kain would have no one. Hoping, his breath held, he watched Joanna for a reaction. 

Joanna looked haunted, her eyes red and hollow, as if she might cry out her entire soul. She circled her freed arm around Rosa, holding her daughter now with both arms. “Both,” she whispered, and it was barely audible, but Kain saw the shape of it on her mouth. 

Kain could only stand there, staring numbly as Rosa began to wail, clutching to Joanna as she sobbed. 

Kain found the details didn’t matter, and they offered little insight into their fathers’ deaths. All that mattered was that there was an accident while their airship was over the ocean, and it sank before any rescue crew could arrive. 

That night, Kain stayed at the Farrell home at Joanna’s insistence. Rosa cried herself to sleep in Joanna’s bed, clinging tightly to her mother before she finally succumbed to exhaustion. Kain found himself relieved to no longer hear her sobs through the thin walls. 

Kain stayed in Rosa’s room, awkwardly too long for her narrow child’s cot. Still, he arranged himself on the bed as comfortably as he could, tucking in his legs to make himself fit. Sleep eluded him, however, and he found himself staring at the dark ceiling. He thought about the day and how it had started so innocently but had gone wrong at every opportunity. 

The thought of Cecil, so calm and perfect, became a thorn in the corner of Kain’s mind. No matter how he tried to leave the thought alone, it always came back, needling at his soft vulnerable parts. Kain knew, objectively, that it was not Cecil’s fault that Kain’s father had died, but Kain couldn’t help but associate the worst day of his life as the day he met Cecil Harvey and all went to hell afterward.

“It’s his fault,” Kain told the darkness of the room. 

The darkness had no answer.

Chapter Text

Kain woke the next morning to find Rosa in the kitchen, preparing porridge into two bowls. At the sound of his approach, she looked up, and Kain knew by her puffy, red rimmed eyes that Rosa had recently been crying. Perhaps she had never stopped.

Rosa sniffled once, then twice, and for one tense moment, Kain thought she might burst into tears. But after several shaky exhales, she regained her composure, then offered him a warm bowl of porridge.

That’s my girl, Kain thought, surprised by both the thought and his own sense of pride. But she was his, he realized; his Rosa, who might wince at a scrapped knee, but would never let it slow her down, or keep her from rejoining their adventure. His Rosa, who was tough but sweet, sharp witted but still kind.

“Where’s your mother?” Kain asked, before he shoveled a spoonful of too hot porridge into his mouth. He breathed out his open mouth, trying to cool the food off before it burned his tongue.

Rosa watched with amusement, as she took the time to slowly stir her own porridge, more effectively cooling it off. But her expression turned somber again as she pondered his question. “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “She left early this morning, before I could ask.”

Kain had more questions, but before he could voice them, a knock sounded at the door. Both he and Rosa jumped up from the table, then made a mad scramble to reach the door first. Rosa beat him, by virtue of her smaller, swifter size, and yanked the door open.

Cecil stood on the other side, fidgeting with his sleeves. When he saw the door open, Cecil straightened into the correct posture. “I came to offer my condolences,” he said formally, his words stiff with rehearsal.

“Your what?” Kain asked, already scowling at Cecil from over the top of Rosa’s head.

“My...” Cecil started, then paused, shaking his head. “I mean to say, I’m sorry about what happened.” He looked at Rosa and his expression softened. “I never knew my parents, so I can’t even imagine how painful it must be.”

“You’re right,” Kain answered before Rosa could. He nudged her aside easily, taking a step between her and the door, blocking Cecil’s view of her. “You couldn’t possibly understand, and you shouldn’t try.” He felt Rosa’s small hands tugging at him, yanking at his arms and shoulders to pull him back, but Kain had the size and weight advantage and held steady; he heard her grunting with genuine effort. “This is a family matter, if you don’t mind.”

“But I wanted to tell you--” Cecil started, but whatever words he might have said were lost as Kain closed the door.

“Why are you being such a jerk?” Rosa demanded as Kain turned around.

“Why are you so eager to have him around?” Kain countered, feeling suddenly hurt by her interest in Cecil.

“He seems lonely,” Rosa said simply, as if that explained it all. Rosa, who had learned a simple Cure spell from her mother’s books so she could soothe their well-earned scrapes and cuts; she was the always smiling girl, easily finding the person having the least amount of fun and doing her best to cheer them up; the girl with compassion deep in her bones, collecting broken things to bring to Cid, begging him to give them new life and purpose. This was Rosa, who found the loneliest boy in the kingdom and wanted to be his friend. How could Kain expect her to be otherwise?

Kain sighed, cursed himself for being so soft, then reluctantly opened the door.

Cecil still stood on the other side, his shoulders deflated with defeat, head hanging slightly. At the sound of the door opening, he perked up, looking hopeful.

“Do you want to come in?” Rosa asked, pushing the door open wider.

Cecil appeared stunned for a moment, then grinned wide as he stepped through. Then, seeing Rosa’s red and tear-stained face up close, he remembered why he was here, and looked appropriately somber again. “I’m... really, really sorry,” Cecil muttered as he passed them both; to Kain’s surprise, Cecil sounded sincere and genuine, without the stiffness of rehearsal.

“Thanks,” Kain muttered back, then closed the door behind them.

Rosa led them both back into the kitchen, where they all stood for an awkward moment. Rosa tried to discreetly wipe her damp eyes with her sleeve, but only succeeded in smearing the unshed tears across one cheek. Kain and Cecil watched each other, the first warily, the second curiously.

“What did you come to tell me?” Kain asked, remembering Cecil’s cut off words.

“Oh!” Cecil remembered as well, his face lighting up. “The castle servants are preparing chambers near mine. Said it was for the Highwind boy.” Cecil’s head tipped curiously as he asked, “Do you have family coming in for your father’s service? Can I help them get settled?” At the resulting confusion on both Kain and Rosa’s faces, Cecil continued, “... or is it for you?”

“No,” Rosa said quicky, now clutching Kain’s arm tightly. “He’s staying with us.”

Kain remembered his father’s last words to him, how important it was for Kain to see the Farrells as family. And now, despite the worst circumstances, Kain was finally achieving his dream: to be part of their family, to live with them, to be close to Rosa always. He took Rosa’s hand in his and squeezed it; the reassuring gesture eased some of the worry in her eyes. “I’m staying here,” Kain echoed and was rewarded with Rosa’s smile, which made his heart feel lighter.

“I must have misheard,” Cecil said, sounding dejected.

The door at the front clicked open again, and Joanna Farrell stepped inside. She looked tired and worn, the lack of sleep evident in the dark smudges under her eyes. At the sight of her serious expression, Kain’s stomach dropped. “Perhaps you should go,” Kain said quietly to Cecil.

“No,” Joanna interrupted, joining the children in the small kitchen. She inclined a nod to Cecil in acknowledgement. “Please stay, Lord Harvey,” her tone was stiff and oddly formal; Kain had never heard her sound so serious before. “This conversation affects you as well.”

“How so?” Rosa asked, clutching Kain’s arm tighter.

Joanna closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, then opened her eyes again, looking directly at Kain. “You are now a ward of the crown,” she said quickly, the words tumbling out of her. “Once you reach your majority, you will inherit the funds and titles from the Highwind estate. But until then, the King will manage your assets and provide for your care.”

There was silence in the kitchen, as each child slowly absorbed the information. It was Rosa who first understood, asking quietly, “Does that mean Kain will live at the castle, and not here, with us?”

“Yes,” Joanna breathed the word with a sigh; Kain was not sure if it was sadness or relief. She looked to Cecil next. “You are also a ward of the crown, as I understand it?” Cecil nodded in reply, and she continued, “Then you will be important to Kain as he navigates this new phase of his life. You’ll essentially be raised as brothers.”

Cecil couldn’t help but smile and Kain immediately hated him for it. “No!” Kain shouted, surprised by the force of it.  “I want to stay here!”

Joanna stood in silent thought, looking between the three children. Kain pulled Rosa in closer to him, and as they held each other, Joanna decided. “Rosa, why don’t you take Lord Harvey to the garden and show him around? Kain and I need to discuss this in private.”

“But Mama--” Rosa started, clinging stubbornly to Kain.

“Go,” Kain said gently, disentangling himself from her. “We will talk it all out, I promise.”

With several reluctant looks back, Rosa finally led Cecil out of the house, through the back door and into the garden. Kain could hear her soft voice through the door but not the words. Kain felt a strange new concern about them being alone together.

“Let us talk as adults,” Joanna said, drawing his attention back to her. “Kain, you cannot stay here with us.”

“Why not?” Kain asked, unable to keep the whine out of his words.

“For many reasons,” Joanna said, folding her arms across her chest. Her face was neutral, in a tight mask of control. “Most of which cannot be explained, not now, perhaps not ever. But you must know that this is for the best.”

Kain felt a tickle of tears in his throat and swallowed hard to chase it away. “But...” he started, but his voice was unsure and watery, and brought unwanted tears closer to the surface. He clenched his jaw tightly, stubbornly sure he wouldn’t cry.

Joanna saw the struggle, and Kain was surprised to see tears of her own fresh in her eyes. “Damn you, Richard,” she whispered, not to him but herself. She closed her eyes, causing the tears to spill off her lashes and down her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away but held a hand to her heart. She took several deep breaths like this, then opened her eyes to look at Kain again. "There was so much your father had left to teach you. But he’s not here anymore, so now it must be like this.” With the heel of her hand, she wiped her cheeks. “You must go and find new friends, and they will be closer to you than Rosa.”

“We can’t even be friends?” Kain was outraged now, his sadness traded for anger. “Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to you?” Joanna didn’t answer, but Kain saw more tears in her eyes. “Why do you want to keep us apart?”

“Because!” Joanna surprised them both with the forcefulness of her reply. “Because...” she continued, more quietly, “Rosa needs friends her own age. Friends who are girls. You need friends who are boys.”

“That’s a stupid excuse,” Kain said with a sulk.

“It is the way of the world,” Joanna said softly. “You will understand more when you’re older.” When Kain said nothing in reply, Joanna turned away, staring down at the floor as she spoke. “Cecil will escort you back to the castle. He’s as alone as you are. Perhaps you can find common ground in that.”

Kain thought about running out back to the garden, to tell Rosa of Joanna’s demands, and knew it would be more painful to leave Rosa that way, with her heart wrenching sobs, pleading with him to stay. The thought of his back to her while she cried made his heart ache in a strange way.

Instead, he slipped past Joanna, out of the house, and into the cold day outside.

At first, Kain went to his home, intending to be alone as he gathered his thoughts and figured out what to do next. But as he approached, he spotted several guards carrying various items out of the house; he recognized his clothing chest carried between two of them. Was King Odin already taking possession, with Richard gone less than a day? The idea of strangers going through his and his father’s things was too much to face, and Kain abruptly changed direction, heading north through the town.   

Kain followed the road north to the castle. As the Dragoon Commander’s son, he was recognized and easily admitted at the front gate. Once inside, he did not report to any guard or wait for Cecil to return. Instead, Kain headed toward the military wing, and found himself outside in the training yard, where clustered groups of young recruits practiced their drills.   

While the castle was largely new to Kain, this was at least familiar territory – he'd been here often with his father, watching as Richard walked a new set of recruits through the basic maneuvers. Kain had been practicing since he could stand, following along with their movements, holding his own wooden sword.

Now, though, Kain watched as he came upon the squad of dragoons, all outfitted in their draconic armor. They stood in pairs, each facing the other, practicing with real weapons in hand. Kain saw the care and thoughtfulness that went into each movement, each dragoon striving hard to break through their opponents’ guard but holding enough back to pull away if they did.

There was a somberness, too, hanging heavy over the dragoons, all silent save the clink of armor and weapons as they moved and the occasional chime as weapons connected.

“Kain....” said a familiar voice. Kain turned to see a dragoon outfitted in green armor, his helmet pushed back to show his face: Albert Hawthorne, Richard’s second in command. He approached Kain carefully, and Kain immediately resented the pity plain on Albert’s face.

“Don’t,” Kain said abruptly, stopping Albert’s words before the dragoon could speak. Kain turned back to watch the other dragoons still in practice. He saw how they angled themselves, to watch the exchange between Albert and Kain while still sparring. He knew of their desire to speak of Richard and to offer their sympathies, but Kain found he had no stomach for it. There were more important things, now. “You will take command?”

Albert looked surprised at the question, then allowed himself a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “Yes sir,” Albert said. “Despite yesterday’s events, today must continue.”

“Of course,” Kain nodded, knowing Richard would want the Dragoons to continue their greatness without him. It was a horrible realization that the world could go on so nonchalantly without Richard in it. Kain stuffed away the resulting messy emotion to deal with later and forced himself to focus on the new dragoons in the yard before him. “There are fewer recruits this year,” Kain remarked.

“Yes,” Albert agreed with a sigh. “With the Red Wings expanding their fleet, there’s less interest in specialized troops.”

“What was my father doing about it?” Kain asked. “And what will you do, now?”

Albert didn’t reply, allowing silence to fill in the space between them. Kain looked aside to Albert, to see the dragoon watching Kain intently. It was when their eyes met, serious and somber, when Albert finally spoke, “I will hope for more who wish to find their glory in the skies. The question remains: do you, too, have the desire for the wind in your blood?”

Kain’s heart leapt greedily at the fantasy of himself outfitted in his own specially crafted dragoon’s armor, with its intimidating draconic helm. Not just any dragoon, though, Kain wanted to be the best one, as his father was. He thought of Joanna’s odd judgment of him and if proving himself as a dragoon would be enough to redeem him in her eyes. Then, he reasoned, she wouldn’t try and keep him and Rosa apart.

“I do,” Kain said quietly.

“Come back tomorrow, first thing in the morning,” Albert said, unable to hide his growing smile despite his grief. “You may be too young to start formal training, but there’s still much you can learn.”

“I’ll be the first one in the yard,” Kain promised.

After leaving the dragoons to finish their daily training, Kain reported to a guard and explained who he was. The guard brought him to Baron castle’s steward, who escorted Kain to his new quarters, giving Kain an informal tour as they walked through the castle.

Kain’s quarters were located within the southwest tower, somewhere in the middle levels. It was a modest room, bigger than his own room back home, but nicely furnished. A large bed sat against one wall, paired with a desk, a small table, and a wash basin. A freshly swept hearth had been prepared, with firewood stacked beside it.

The steward had explained Kain’s schedule, with some of his time still spent with the other children, learning beside them, but some days would belong to private tutors. In lessons alongside Cecil, Kain would get the privilege of a royal education and upbringing.

Kain had remembered Joanna’s words, raised as brothers, and felt suddenly queasy. The steward left Kain behind, encouraging him to take his time to explore the castle and its grounds, with a promise that Kain’s belongings from his house would be delivered tomorrow. On his own again, Kain did leave his room to explore, but definitely not the ground.

Kain found a staircase leading upward and climbed up to the tower’s top level. There was only one door at the top floor, and Kain found it unlocked as he tested it. Peering inside, he found a large, spacious room, with similar furniture to his own. This room was lived in, however, with a pile of books on the desk and fresh clothing laid out on the bed. The bed sat against the wall, beneath a large window and Kain wondered how this person slept with the bright moonlight in their eyes every night.

Kain approached the bed, and climbed across it, not mindful of his dirty shoes on the linens. He fussed with the windows’ latch for a frustrating few seconds, and then it finally clicked open to the cold afternoon outside. After testing the ledge with a grunting push of his hand, Kain guessed that it was stable enough to take his weight. Climbing out the window, Kain clung tightly to the outer stone wall, finding purchase for his fingers in the irregular stone shapes, while his feet barely fit on the narrow ledge.

Kain peered up, trying to spot another handhold in the stones. He found one, then another higher up, then more in an irregular line all the way up to the roof. With the confidence and bravery found only in stubborn ten-year-old boys, Kain reached for the first stone, then, as he pulled himself up, he also pushed off with his legs to propel upward. He scrambled up to the next stone, then pushed off with his legs again. One by one, Kain climbed the wall. He reached the roof’s edge and heaved himself up and over with a final grunt of effort.

Once on the roof, Kain stood with stable legs, despite the downward slant. From his high vantage point, Kain could see the castle and its entire grounds, including most of the road leading down into the city. He looked around the lower rooftops and saw a path he could easily follow, taking him across all the castle’s buildings.

The wind tugged insistently at his clothing and ruffled his short blond hair, threatening to cover his eyes, and Kain felt an unexpected pang of grief – his father had always cut his hair, who would do it now? Kain remembered the gentle pressure of his father’s fingers as Richard moved Kain’s head one way or another, the gentle snick of scissors with each cut, the sudden fear as Kain felt the whisper of cold metal against his scalp, and then the inherent trust he had in his father to keep Kain protected.

Alone except for the wild winds, Kain began to cry.

The day passed and the sun shifted in the sky, slowly sinking down to the western horizon. At some point, hollowed out by his tears and aching grief, Kain curled up on his side and drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

Kain came awake abruptly, mired in confusion as to where he was. Slowly, he gained his bearings, shivering in the now chilly wind. He was beginning to gather himself up, to prepare for the downward climb, when he heard a nearby grunt. He inched over to the roof’s edge, where he had climbed up, and peered down.

Cecil clung to the wall, hanging by the handholds Kain had used himself to climb up. He was shorter than Kain, not just by virtue of his younger age, but by his build. Kain was long and lanky, with most of his height in his legs, while Cecil was broader across the shoulders, with a longer torso. Despite his disadvantage, Cecil had managed up most of the wall, but struggled to reach the last stone between him and the roof’s edge.

“Kain!” Cecil shouted out, in a mix of panic and relief. Cecil reached up, stretching his fingers out as far as they could go, still inches too short for the last stone grip. Kain reached down and grabbed Cecil by his wrist. “Help me,” Cecil croaked out.

For one terrifying moment, Kain considered letting Cecil fall. The inexplicable urge rose from a dark part of himself he did not know existed before now. It would be far too easy to pass this off as accidental, as an unfortunate consequence of childhood adventure. With vivid clarity, Kain saw Cecil plummeting away -- from Kain and any role in Kain’s life, and his broken, twisted body on the ground below. Without Cecil, perhaps King Odin might consider another orphan as the heir and Kain could be even more than his father had originally hoped. He wondered how glorious it would be for the Dragoons to have their own on the throne. Would Joanna hate him so much, then? Would anyone ever stand between Kain and Rosa again?

But then Cecil looked up at him and Kain saw the trust in Cecil’s eyes, the belief that Kain would hold tight and never let go. It was the same trust in Rosa’s eyes, and Kain thought of her sorrow if something were to happen to Cecil. Rosa, who would always want to help, no matter how difficult it might be. Rosa, who would look at him with both horror and disappointment if she knew what he pondered now.

With the decision made, Kain gripped Cecil’s wrist tighter, and yanked Cecil up and onto the roof. Kain fell back, and Cecil landed soundly on top of him, in a mess of sprawling limbs. With an arm on either side of Kain’s head, Cecil pushed himself up, and looked down at Kain below him. “Thanks,” Cecil said, cracking a grin.

“Get off of me,” Kain said with a grunt, pushing at Cecil’s shoulders. Cecil rolled aside, lying flat on his back now, staring up into the sky. The sun had started its descent in earnest, painting the sky in countless shades of reds, pinks, purples, and oranges.

“It’s nice up here,” Cecil said with a pleased sigh. “You’ve been here less than a day and you’ve already found a secret in the castle.”

“Hardly a secret,” Kain grumbled in reply.

“It will be nice to have someone to explore the castle with,” Cecil continued, ignoring Kain’s surliness. “I’m still trying to memorize the layout. I keep getting lost.”

He seems lonely, Rosa implored Kain from his memories.

I am lonely, Kain answered back. Why hadn’t Joanna seen and recognized that? How could she take away his one friend? And how could Rosa ask him to be better than those around him?

Dragoons don’t make excuses, Memory-Rosa reminded him, and Kain knew that she was right.

“Do you see that low roof over there,” Kain sat up and pointed in the distance. “If you follow that one, you could reach it from the training yard, if you had a ladder.”

Cecil sat up as well, and scooted closer, to better follow the line of Kain’s gesture. Their shoulders touched, and Kain was surprised to find the nearby warmth of Cecil’s body made the cold seem less urgent. “It looks like they connect,” Cecil said excitedly. “You could travel the whole castle by roof top.”

“Exactly,” Kain replied, but his mouth felt dry, the word tacky on his tongue.

“I bet the Chief Engineer’s workshop has a ladder we could borrow,” Cecil offered helpfully.

“No,” Kain said, shaking his head. “He’s as grumpy as a Goblin. We’ll ask Cid, the Chief’s first apprentice. He’s much nicer and won’t mind as long as we bring it back.”

When Cecil didn’t reply, Kain looked back to find Cecil staring at him. Cecil was suddenly a strange creature again, his eyes oddly lit in the dimming sunset. Cecil studied Kain a moment longer, then finally spoke, “I hate the circumstances that brought you here.” Then, his serious expression softened as he smiled faintly. “But I’m glad you’re here now. It’s nice to finally have a friend.”

“It is,” Kain agreed, ignoring the uncertain flip flop of his stomach. “Let’s head back,” he suggested, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

“Will you go first?” Cecil asked. “In case I slip?”

“I won’t let you fall,” Kain said, quick in his reassurance. He felt guilty about his earlier fantasy, a new shame burrowing into his already complicated feelings about Cecil. The idea of deliberately hurting Cecil suddenly gutted him; he told himself it was because of Rosa and how she’d feel. “I’ve got you,” Kain offered Cecil a smile, and was rewarded by Cecil’s relieved look.

Together, with Kain first and Cecil second, they descended back down the wall, through the window and back into the room within.

“The maid is going to have a fit,” Cecil said, looking forlornly at the muddy mess on the bed.

“This is your room?” Kain asked incredulously.

“Yeah...” Cecil answered, sounding sheepish, and Kain wondered if Cecil would always have better than him, and if Kain would ever stop caring about it. Sensing a new tension between them, Cecil shifted awkwardly.

“Do you like being the heir?” Kain asked quietly, and by the resulting surprised expression, Kain knew it was the first time Cecil had ever been asked.

“Well...” Cecil started with a faraway look that Kain had begun to associate with Cecil. “Some things are nice. I have anything I want or need, and the King takes care of everything for me. But...” Cecil trailed off, looking suddenly guilty.

“But?” Kain prompted.

“But sometimes,” Cecil continued, emboldened by Kain’s support. “Sometimes I wonder who I’d be without the King telling me what to do. He says, you will learn this, and I learn it. He tells me where I am to live and I go. Soon he will tell me who I am to be, and whether that’s the next King of Baron or not, I don’t even know yet. But I must do it anyway.”

“So you always do the best that you can,” Kain concluded, feeling a new sympathy for Cecil. “Because you worry if you do it poorly, the King will throw you away.”

“Yeah,” Cecil agreed, a sadness echoing in the single world.

Kain and Cecil stood together in the melancholy silence, both staring at their feet. It was Cecil who finally broke it, to quietly ask, “Do you want to try and find Rosa with me, tomorrow?” Cecil grinned with an uncharacteristic mischievousness. “I thought we could go to her house, maybe, sneak her out and you two can show me around Baron.”

Kain instantly lit up with the idea of getting to see Rosa again. He hadn’t considered just disobeying Joanna and seeing Rosa regardless, and Cecil’s suggestion made him realize just how easy it would be to circumvent Joanna. “Yes!” Kain exclaimed and saw joy on Cecil’s face in response.

“And we’ll go together?” Cecil asked, not fully believing Kain.

“Together,” Kain affirmed, and somehow the idea of being friends with Cecil seemed not as terrible as before.

Chapter Text

Kain stood on the roof again, although now there was no wind and no teasing current trying to lure him off the edge and out into the open sky. Beyond the roof, there was no calm blue or even tumultuous stormy gray; there was no sky at all, only darkness, in an endless yawning void. Feeling uneasy in the strange atmosphere, Kain looked back to his father for reassurance.

Richard clapped a hand to Kain’s shoulder. “Sometimes,” Richard said with a familiar squeeze that had been reassuring while he was alive, but now Kain found it too tight and inescapable. “There are no good choices, and all you can do is jump.”

“But Father...” Kain started to protest.

“Jump!” Richard demanded, coming closer to Kain, crowding him to the roof’s edge. Suddenly, Richard seemed twice as tall, looming over Kain, casting a dark shadow across the boy’s face. “Go!” Richard bellowed. The wind was immediately present, wild and whipping in all directions – it pulled aggressively at Kain’s clothing, hair, and limbs, so that even his skin was stretched tight by the furious gale.

Kain stumbled back over the edge and felt air underneath his feet. With desperate fingers, Kain scrambled for a hand hold on the roof’s edge and miraculously found it. The weight of his falling body almost ripped his grip from the edge, but somehow Kain still held on by one hand, dangling precariously over the black void below.

“Father!” Kain cried out, but it was not Richard’s face that appeared above – it was Rosa’s, wearing a soft expression of pity. She leaned down, grabbed Kain by the wrist, and held him easily; Kain was surprised by her immense strength.

Rosa’s mouth moved but no sound could be heard over the roar of the winds around them. When Kain did not answer, she looked scared, a new urgency making her lips move faster. Her grip on his wrists became uncomfortably tight.

“Rosa!” Kain managed between terrified gulping breaths, “Help me...!”

Lifting Kain by his wrist with an impossible strength, Rosa stood; she held Kain over the edge so that his feet hung awkwardly in the air. As Rosa shook her head, her face was obscured by blonde hair whipping around. When Kain could glimpse her through her parting hair, he saw that Rosa had transformed into a fearsome golden creature, swirling within the wind.

“No!” Kain cried out as he felt her fingers loosen, then let go. He reached for her, but his hand swiped through emptiness. Rosa was gone, or was never there in the first place, he realized with dismay. Despair and terror filled him up, weighing him down further.

Kain fell, quickly consumed by the endless void waiting for him.

The next morning, Kain woke to utter darkness in his room. For one terrifying moment, he forgot where he was. Kain reached blindly for something familiar but found only strangeness in the air; he leaned too far off the bed’s edge and tumbled out, landing hard on the floor below.

Kain opened his mouth to cry out to his father, but bit back the teary plea as the confusion of sleep lifted; he remembered where he was and why. He took one deep shuddering breath, telling himself that he would not cry. He was Kain Highwind, son of Richard, and no fall would ever discourage him – he just had to get back up.

Fumbling in the dark, Kain pulled on his clothing from the previous day. Upon returning the night before, he’d found some of his possessions already delivered to the room, including his clothing chest, but it felt like too much effort to dig through the chest now. He wondered if King Odin or Joanna had sent the guards to his house to pack up his possessions like a criminal. He wondered, too, how much longer he could avoid both.

Kain slipped from the room and stepped lightly to soften his footfalls as he left the tower. The sun was beginning to peek over the eastern horizon, spilling bright glittering rays across the ocean’s surface, lending just enough light to the sky for Kain to find his way.

There were few others awake at this early hour. Kain passed a few guards but no others. He felt that the castle was an ominous place when empty, as if the walls would close in and swallow him whole if he lingered too long. With that mental image sending a shudder down his spine, Kain hurried along. He was relieved to have cold air in his lungs again as he found his way back outside and entered the castle’s training yard.

Albert was waiting for him.

“Not quite the first,” Kain remarked as he approached the dragoon.

“Close enough,” Albert replied, then motioned for Kain to follow. Albert had always been kind but distant with Kain growing up, ready to offer Kain a smile or a ruffling of his hair, but little interaction beyond that. Now, Albert’s face was fixed in a stony neutrality, not offering any hint or feeling of expression.

Albert led Kain back into the castle, in the armory hall adjacent to the training yard where Baron stored its weapons and armors between periods of active use. Albert led Kain through countless weapon and armor racks, then stopped before a closed door. After pulling a key from his pocket, Albert unlocked and opened the door. He entered the next room, and Kain followed closely behind.

Kain had never been to this part of the castle before. Richard had always insisted Kain was too young for ‘real weapons with real consequences’, so he had restricted Kain to wooden practice swords and lances. Now, Kain stood before a line of busts displaying colorful armor. The colors ranged from dark red to light green, and the armors winked at him in the dim light of the armory, in a manner reminiscent of a dragon’s glittering scales. An elaborate helmet topped each armor set, all appearing ferociously dragon-like yet distinct from each other.

Awed by the sight, Kain followed Albert down the line of busts, admiring each in turn, until Albert stopped at one: it was dark blue, almost black in the low light, with sharp talon-like points protruding from the elbow joints and shoulders. The helm displayed a similar style, fanning out in a mock reptilian frill around the dragon’s ears. It had two sets of eyes: a yellow set for the dragon, and a second lower set for its wearer. Unlike the other helmets, this helmet left its wearer’s face exposed from the jaw down.

“It was your father’s first set,” Albert said, not looking at the armor but watching Kain’s reaction. “The King had new armor commissioned when Richard became Commander, and no one has taken this one up since.”

Kain reached out tentatively, touching one of the vicious looking talons on the armor’s shoulder. It was sharper than it looked, easily piercing Kain’s skin. Sucking in a breath, Kain withdrew his hand and looked down to see a bead of blood forming on the pad of his thumb.

“A bit of a double-edged sword,” Albert remarked. “It discourages your enemies from getting too close, but you must be mindful of hurting yourself and your allies.” Albert paused, considering Kain as he wiped his thumb on his trousers, leaving behind a small bloody smear against the dark fabric. “Is this what you want, Kain?”

“I want to be like my father,” Kain said with a determined look.

“No,” Albert cut in quickly. Kain visibly deflated, his shoulders sagging inward at Albert’s apparent rejection. “If you do this right, you’ll be better.”

Kain perked up at that, a smile lighting up his face. “You think so?”

Albert returned the smile; it softened the hard lines of his face. “I do.” Then, turning away, he gestured for Kain to follow. “You’re a long way off from that, though. And there’s plenty to learn before picking up your first weapon.”

Kain spent the rest of the early morning hours trailing behind Albert, assisting him with chores within the armory. The biggest was a much-needed thorough sweep of the floors, which left Kain sweating, and his face streaked with dirt. Albert dismissed Kain with a stern reminder to go get himself cleaned up.

Cecil was waiting for Kain as he left the armory. Kain had expected Cecil to be happy to see him, but instead, Cecil looked worried, his fair brow furrowed in concern as Kain approached.

“I didn’t forget about you,” Kain said, assuming Cecil was worried about being left behind on the day’s adventure.

Instead, Cecil shook his head. “No, the King wants to see you.” When Kain didn’t react immediately, Cecil frowned. “Now,” he added, flexing an expectation of authority in the stern word.

Kain scowled, wanting to protest, but was then surprised when Cecil took Kain by the arm, pulling him along. “I can’t believe you haven’t been to see him yet,” Cecil said, sounding exasperated. “That should have been the first thing you did, not climbing roofs or playing in the armory.”  

Suddenly flustered by both Cecil’s actions, the unexpected criticism, and by the apparent gravity of the situation, Kain didn’t fight, and hurried alongside Cecil to the throne room.

While Baron had always been recognized as a monarchy, its lines of succession differed from other traditional monarchies, which typically pass from ruler to eldest child, in a hereditary line. Baron’s throne, however, has passed from the current ruler to a carefully selected heir, who may or may not be related to the family in power.

It was said to have started many generations prior, when one King was so disappointed in his children and their lazy, indulgent lives, that he chose his Captain of the Guard as his successor. A brief but bloody civil war broke out between the factions of each slighted prince and princess, but with Baron’s military throwing its support to the King and his new heir, the rebellious royal family was quickly subdued, and a new tradition of succession was born.

While some of Baron’s monarchs often declare their blood children as the chosen heir, the prince and princesses now understand it is not guaranteed and must prove themselves to be the most worthy and capable successor. This incentivized younger siblings and distant cousins, with noble families encouraging their children to pursue military careers, in the hopes of proving themselves distinguished enough to be noticed by the king.

In the last three generations, the heir was declared early in the child’s life, with the expectation that they would be groomed to their royal duties as they grew. This brought stability and peace to the people – they knew that the line of succession was secure if something terrible should happen. King Odin himself was one such heir, declared by his father at birth; he had been raised with the weighty knowledge of his privileges and responsibilities.

King Odin himself never married, although there were rumors of a steamy affair with an unknown noble woman many years before. The affair could not be verified, and the woman’s identity was never revealed; thus, King Odin’s rule continued without a queen by his side. In the absence of an official heir, speculative gossip persisted concerning who the next heir might be, and when the King might make such an announcement.

It was a surprise when King Odin announced the arrival of Cecil Harvey at Baron Castle. Not much was known about the ten-year-old boy. He was the last remaining Harvey – some distant cousin of the last Lord, whose only issue had been a daughter, oddly enough named Cecilia Harvey. The daughter had disappeared a decade earlier, and had been presumed lost to foul play. Cecil had been raised in relative isolation at the Harvey manor in the country, and his existence had been hidden from the other noble families. 

Cecil’s new residence at the castle, his royal education, and King Odin’s vested interest led most to assume that Cecil would be declared the new heir. No one could really say why King Odin had chosen Cecil, but there was plenty of speculation. Some thought that Cecil was the secret love child of King Odin and the mysterious noble woman, while others thought that Cecil was a returning hero of legend, prophesized by devout priests who cared for the Crystals. All seemed possible in the vacuum of the truth.

Although Kain had never formally met King Odin, he had seen the king from a distance at royal functions that he had been allowed to attend with Richard. Kain was immediately grateful for Cecil’s presence and familiarity with King Odin and the court, as they both approached the throne and the waiting king.

Odin sat straight -backed on the throne, both hands grasping the end of each armrest. As a large, bluff man, with wide shoulders, he was rumored to have the strength to effortlessly cleave his blade through an enemy’s entire torso. Although the King’s expression was largely hidden by a bushy brown beard, Kain could see that the King’s sharp eyes were focused on him – Kain realized that he was being assessed.

“So now you decide to present yourself, Kain Highwind?” King Odin asked as the two boys approached. He didn’t give Kain the space to answer, continuing before Kain could even try to think of a reply. “I will assume your oversight to be a combination of youthful ignorance and overwhelming grief. It will not happen again, will it?”

Kain nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good,” King Odin said apparently satisfied, nodding to himself. “You are a ward of the crown now.”

“I understand,” Kain managed to say.

“Do you?” King Odin countered, as he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees to peer more closely at Kain. “I don’t think you do, not yet. You have a choice here, young man. You have been on a path that your father set for you. But now you have a new opportunity for a new path, one that I lay before you.” He leaned back, his posture loosening as he reclined against the throne. “It is ultimately your decision, whichever you desire.”

“I am my father’s son,” Kain declared, his chest puffing with pride as he said it. “I will follow in his footsteps.”

The king considered Kain for a long moment, which stretched on, making Kain uncomfortable with its uncertainty. Feeling antsy, Kain looked aside from King Odin’s intense gaze and found Cecil also watching him – not with scrutiny, but with open curiosity.

“It does not need to be decided now,” King Odin finally spoke, a warning in his lowered tone. “I only ask you keep an open mind regarding your place in this world, and what you want to make of it. But know this: you do not have to be your father.”

Kain wanted to argue, to protest that being even a fraction of Richard Highwind would make Kain better than any other warrior out there, but he felt Cecil’s hand on his shoulder in a gentle squeeze of warning. Kain then nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“I am glad to see the two of you are friends,” King Odin said, sounding less harsh now, offering a kind smile to the boys. “It would do you both well to spend time together. Kain, you will teach Cecil about Baron and its people. Cecil, you will teach Kain how best to take advantage of his new place in life. Is that acceptable to you?” It was not really a question but an expectation.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” both boys said in unison, which inspired a grin from King Odin.

“You may go,” King Odin said with a dismissive wave. “And try to stay out of trouble.”

The boys locked eyes in a moment of understanding, and without hesitation, both took off in a run together, out of the throne room. Kain was grateful to leave behind the suffocating expectations of the King, and wondered again how Cecil could stand it.

Nothing would deter Kain from his path, not even the king.

Together in unspoken agreement, Kain and Cecil made their way out of the castle and down to the town, not stopping for breath until they reached Rosa’s house. It sat in the busiest part of Baron, next to the Inn in the heart of the market district. It had deliberately built there, so that a prominent white mage was readily available in the event of emergencies in Baron’s most crowded space. Overhead, an airship roared its descent toward the castle, throwing furious winds through the streets.

Rosa had recounted tales of late-night disruptions, when her mother ran out of the house to attend to some poor soul who had stumbled into the Inn. Rosa’s eyes always filled with a strange fear whenever she described her mother returning, sometimes covered in blood, but always exhausted and somehow emptier than before.

“I don’t want to be a white mage,” Rosa had told Kain with a defiant lift of her chin, as if she dared him to argue. “Instead, I’ll be an archer so I can watch your back.” And, as if she sensed his doubt, she arrived at their next day’s adventure with a small bow in hand, determined to figure out how to use it. Kain was amused, thinking she’d give up after a day or two of failures, but was surprised when she began sinking arrows into short -range targets.

Now, her house stood silent in the chaos of mid-afternoon foot traffic. Beckoning for Cecil to follow him, Kain slipped around the side of the house, until he found the window to Rosa’s room. Feeling suddenly mischievous, Kain couldn’t help but grin as he quickly knocked against the windowpane. There was something oddly delightful about breaking the rules, he was finding out.

Kain saw Rosa’s vague shape in the window and nearly burst with excitement. The window opened outward, then Rosa leaned outside to look down at them. “Kain!” Rosa exclaimed in delight, and Kain was rewarded with her radiant smile.

“Climb out,” Kain said. “I’ll help you down,” he offered, holding his hands up to guide her.

“Don’t be silly,” Rosa laughed. “Mama’s out for the day. Come use the door like a person.”

It was easier to go in through the front door, Kain thought, but certainly less exciting. He and Cecil went around to the front of the house, and as Rosa opened the door to them, she launched herself at Kain with a force and strength that surprised him, pulling him into a fierce embrace. “I missed you,” she said, the words muffled into his shoulder.

“I missed you too,” Kain muttered back, feeling strangely embarrassed when he saw Cecil watching them over the top of Rosa’s head. Awkwardly, he disentangled himself from her.

Not sensing anything was amiss, Rosa led them inside; they passed through the kitchen and eventually reached her room on the opposite end of the house. Although Kain had been a frequent visitor in Rosa’s home, he suddenly felt like an intruder.

“They’re still searching the wreckage,” Rosa suddenly announced, startling both Kain and Cecil.  “Updates come twice daily to the King, so Mama has been staying there in the hope that...” Rosa hesitated, unable to give voice to the thin hope she and her mother still held. She took a deep breath in and sighed it out. “I’m just really glad to see you both,” she finished instead.

Cecil’s face lit up with a smile, and Kain felt an uncertain pang of jealousy that Rosa seemed equally excited to see him and Cecil. No, Kain assured himself, she liked him more than someone she had just met. Trying not to feel antsy with his uncertainty, Kain sat at Rosa’s small desk, tucking his legs under the short stool.

“Is this your bow?” Cecil asked, nodding to the small bow that hung from a hook on the wall, a quiver beside it. Rosa nodded, beaming with pride. Cecil took the bow from its hook, drawing the string experimentally to test it.

Meanwhile, Rosa circled around Kain, inspecting his head with a critical eye. He wondered if she was looking to see if he had changed in their time apart, and was curious, too, if he had. “Kain,” Rosa finally said, sounding exasperated. “Your hair is a tangled mess.”

“No, it’s not,” Kain said, immediately defensive. To prove his point, Kain ran his fingers through the hair on one side, and he was dismayed when they became snagged on a knot in his now- shaggy hair.

“See?” Rosa said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. She turned to her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small silver brush. “Stay still,” she commanded, wielding the brush like a weapon as she approached.

“No way!” Kain protested, raising his hands in defense.

“You might want to just let her,” Cecil offered unhelpfully from the side.

Rosa paused, lowering the brush. She frowned, and Kain recognized her genuine disappointment. “C’mon, Kain,” she said, now pouting. “I’ll be careful. But you can’t run around looking like a messy kid anymore. His Majesty expects you to look nice, or at very least, not like you just rolled out of bed.”

Kain then thought of Joanna, and how she’d frown the same way if she saw Kain looking like this, but not from disappointment, but in knowing she’d been right about Kain and was justified in turning him away.

“Fine,” Kain said tightly. He closed his eyes as Rosa approached. Trying not to wince as she touched the brush to his scalp, Kain braced for the inevitable twinge of pulling knots. But Rosa was slow and patient, working carefully from the ends of his hair and up, untangling each tight knot with a practiced ease.

As she finished, she threaded her fingers through his hair. “See?” she said, giving his hair a playful tug. “You should talk to the steward about cutting it. Although...” she hesitated, peering closer at the blond strands between her fingers. “If you wanted to grow it long, I think it would suit you.”

“Long?” Kain asked, unsure. “You think so?”

“I think so,” Cecil chimed in, and Kain felt his cheeks grow hot. Before Kain could ponder that further, the sound of a door opening came from the front of the house.

“Rosa?” called out Joanna’s voice.

The three children exchanged surprised looks, then Kain scrambled over to the window, throwing it open. “Stay here and distract her,” Kain instructed the two of them. When Cecil started to protest, Kain shook his head. “It’s just me she has a problem with, not you. Meet me back outside, as soon as you can.”

As Kain jumped, he heard Rosa’s distant voice, “Mama, Cecil came by and--” but the rest dropped off as he hit the ground. He broke out into a run, heading back onto the main square of the town.

It was more crowded than on a typical winter afternoon, Kain was surprised to find. There was an unusual energy to the townsfolk, as they milled about aimlessly, not with direction or purpose – they seemed to be waiting for some big event or announcement.

“What’s going on!?” Kain asked of no one in particular, the question drowned in the anxious chatter of overlapping conversations.

“Kain!” Cecil called out, and Kain turned to see Cecil navigating through the crowd. “We need to get back to the castle right away.”

“Why?” Kain felt suddenly lost in the frustration of not knowing, but also unsure if he actually wanted an answer. But still, he asked, and held his breath as he waited for Cecil to reply.

“They found a survivor,” Cecil said, breathless from either the cold or the news he imparted.

“Who is it?” Kain asked. He closed his eyes, feeling suddenly dizzy. He was too afraid to hope, to dare, to foolishly wish for a second it could be his father who survived – Richard, who was important above all others, including even Rosa’s father, as selfish as that sounded. It was Richard who most deserved to survive.

“I don’t know,” Cecil answered, taking Kain’s hand. “But we’ll find out and face it together.” Cecil led Kain through the crowd easily, keeping Kain’s hand securely within his, as a wordless promise not to let go or lead Kain astray.

Oddly, Kain believed it.

Chapter Text

Baron’s infirmary, deliberately by design, sat adjacent to the Engineer’s workshop and airship bay. This served two purposes: to address accidental injuries that inevitably happened to engineers while experimenting with new technologies, and to treat any wounded individuals arriving via airship.

The Engineering division, the Red Wings, and the White Mages all cooperated on missions and projects, more so than any other divisions. The White Mages provided support to the other two divisions, while the Engineering division supplied the Red Wings’ fleet and soldiers with new and developing technology, often present in upgraded weapons and airship function. In return, the Red Wings protected the White Mages and Engineers on missions, both domestic and foreign, ensuring the safety of their defensively vulnerable but important personnel. As such, there was often a close working relationship among members of the three divisions.

Kain knew Cid Pollendina indirectly, through the engineer’s association with Joanna. Cid was more familiar with Rosa, as he had an obvious soft spot for the girl who was so close in age to his own daughter, Sarah. Rosa had a hidden box of treasures stashed under the floorboards of her room, mostly filled with Cid’s creations – little trinkets and gadgets he had crafted for her over the years.

Despite his Apprentice title, Cid was a man approaching middle age. A new hint of gray was scattered throughout his wiry black beard and hair, while the hard muscle of his youth had begun to soften. Apprentice was a special rank within the Engineering division, and was often a lifetime role that started in an engineer’s youth. Similar to the King’s declaration of an heir, the Apprentice to the Chief Engineer was someone who was undergoing training to eventually assume the Chief Engineer role – an Apprentice learned the secrets of Baron’s technology over the course of many years, sometimes decades. If the Chief Engineer died or defected to the enemy, the Apprentice was expected to take over the role to maintain the continued efficient operation of Baron and its military.

Engineers – especially Chief Engineers and their Apprentices – were highly respected by Baron’s military and its civilian society. Baron was quick to credit its current economic boom to the innovative airships designed by its Engineering division, which made Baron master of the skies above all other nations.

It was a surprise, then, for Cecil and Kain to see Cid standing outside of his workshop; two Red Wings soldiers were stationed at the door, their matching uniforms and helmets making them anonymous. Kain could hear the faint sounds of raised voices inside the workshop.

“Let me look,” Cid said, starting toward the door, but the Red Wings soldiers did not budge. Cid hesitated, then stepped back. “Can I at least watch and make sure things are handled carefully?”

“I’m sorry, Cid,” said one of the soldiers, with genuine sympathy in his muffled voice. “But we have orders to make you wait while they do a full inventory.”

Cid looked ready to argue, his chest puffing up with a deep inhale. But then he spotted Kain and Cecil watching nearby, and his anger deflated, his shoulders visibly sagging. “What’re you boys doing here?” He didn’t wait for an answer; understanding softened his expression into pity. It was a sentiment that Kain would soon grow to resent. “You’ve heard about the survivors?” Cid asked next, sounding gentle despite his gruff voice.

“There’s more than one?” Kain asked, a foolish optimism lighting up inside of him. Could it be possible that he and Rosa would both get what they wanted? What they needed?

“Biggs Darklighter, Red Wings pilot, and Wedge Antilles, Red Wings soldier,” Cid said, instead of answering Kain’s question. “They were found floating in the wreckage, adrift at sea.” Cid paused, seeing the new tears in Kain’s eyes, then awkwardly added, “I’m sorry.”

Kain blinked hard, swallowing back his urge to cry.

“What are they doing in there?” Cecil asked with a nod to the door, mercifully changing the topic, while Kain’s world crashed back down around him all over again. His father had seemed so close – the hint of hope, now drowning in an even greater despair, was somehow worse than if there had been no survivors at all.

Cid looked back at the door and the guards standing in front of it. He sighed, and when he spoke, he sounded small and defeated. “Something went missing. The Red Wings are examining the workshop to see if anything else is gone.”

“What’s missing?” Cecil asked quickly.

“One of my experiments,” Cid started to answer, then turned back to look at the boys. Perhaps realizing to whom he was speaking, Cid frowned. “But don’t worry about it.”

The door to the workshop opened, and another soldier poked his head out. “Engineer Pollendina?”

“Yeah?” Cid answered eagerly, turning away from the boys.

“We need your assistance cataloging some items,” the soldier said a bit sheepishly.

Cid threw up his hands, now dismayed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say. How can you know what’s missing if you don’t know what the hell you’re looking at?!” He started for the door, but paused, looking back to Kain. “I’m sorry that I don’t have any answers yet – about the crash, and about what happened to your father. But I aim to find out.”

“Will you tell me?” Kain asked. “If you do find out, do you promise to tell me?” He thought of all the strange secrets the adults seemed to have, then wondered why they should affect him at all.

Cid hesitated only a second before answering. “I promise,” he said, before disappearing behind the workshop’s door.

“We should still go to the infirmary and see if Rosa is there,” Cecil said as he tugged on Kain’s arm, leading him along further down the hall. “We might learn something.”

Similar to the outside of the Engineering division, there were Red Wings guards posted outside of the infirmary doors, barring entry. As Cecil and Kain approached, the doors pushed open, and out stepped Rosa, looking hollow-eyed and empty, just as Kain remembered her describing Joanna. She’d been crying anew, evidenced by her tear-stained cheeks and reddened eyes. As she saw the boys approach, she rubbed the heel of her hand against her eyes, then blinked them clear.

“I’m sorry,” Kain said, the words feeling impossibly inferior in the enormity of her grief.

“I thought, maybe, it might be...” Rosa started, then sniffed. Kain opened his arms, and she went in easily, hugging him tightly. “But it wasn’t,” she said, muffled into his shirt, and her shoulders began to shake as a sob tore through her. Kain held her carefully as she cried on, lightly patting her back.

Cecil watched without comment, his gray eyes curious but serious.

This continued, with Rosa quietly crying on in the otherwise silent hallway, until the heavy tread of approaching soldiers interrupted the moment. Rosa pulled away from Kain, wiping her face with her sleeve, sniffling away her remaining tears. Cecil watched down the hall, waiting expectantly.

It was the King himself who finally approached, flanked by his royal guard. First, King Odin looked surprised to see the three of them, then his expression softened. Kain recognized the familiar and infuriating look of pity.

“You should go,” King Odin said to the children, with an unusual expression of sympathy he was not known for. “This isn’t the place for children.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Cecil said immediately, dropping into a perfunctory bow, even as King Odin was already turning away to disappear inside of the infirmary. “Let’s go,” Cecil whispered to Rosa and Kain, “We need to talk.”

Together, the three children climbed the north west tower stairs until they reached Cecil’s room at the top. Cecil led them, while Rosa and Kain trailed behind, holding each other’s hands as they followed.

“What’s this about?” Kain asked as they entered Cecil’s room.

Rosa broke away from Kain to wander through the new environment. She lingered by the desk, looking over the various papers there.

“Do you know why the King is there?” Cecil asked instead of answering. He began pacing beside the bed, going back and forth slowly across the room as he spoke. “And why are they searching through Cid’s workshop?” When Kain offered no answers, Cecil continued, "King Odin himself is questioning the survivors to find out what happened to the ship, and why it might have crashed. Maybe it has something in common with whatever experiment Cid’s missing.”

“You think so?” Rosa asked.

Cecil shrugged. “I’m not sure, really. I can only guess. But if it’s the King himself, then he expects to hear something that he wants no one else to witness.”

The children stood still in the tense silence, each pondering the implication.

It was Rosa who broke it, speaking quietly, “We should talk to Cid, then.” Both boys turned to look at her, and she looked grim, with little color in her face. She drew in a deep breath, and continued, “Right now, Mama is saying that there was a problem with the engines, some kind of accident that made them stop working. But...”

Rosa closed her eyes briefly, looking like she might cry, but then exhaled slowly, eyes fluttering back open. “But Cid’s ships don’t just stop working like that. And,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, sounding suddenly scared. “And the survivors... I saw them before Mama sent me away. Their skin was all burnt up, like they’d been in a fire. Is that what happens when a ship crashes in the ocean?”

Cecil was already shaking his head in a silent no.

“To Cid, then,” Rosa said, sounding determined.

“But first,” Cecil said with a new frown aimed at Kain. “You need to get clean clothes. I can smell you from here.”

After a brief but embarrassing stop at Kain’s room, where Kain changed his clothes and scrubbed his face with cold water, Rosa, Cecil, and Kain went back to Cid’s workshop. They found Cid looking despondent over his bench at the scattered mess of tools lying there. He didn’t notice the children at first. They watched as Cid picked up a hammer, looked it over in his hands, then tossed it carelessly back in the pile.

“This was more than an inventory,” Cecil said, and it was not a question, but a statement.

Cid looked up, surprised to see the children. “What do you mean?”

“Your missing experiment,” Cecil continued as he approached Cid at the bench, “what exactly is it?”

“Why are you asking?” Cid asked, suddenly skeptical of the children.

“Could it be used to damage a ship’s engines?” Cecil continued his questions, ignoring Cid’s own.

“Or set a ship on fire?” Rosa added, then dropped to a whisper, “…or burn off skin?”

Cid looked puzzled; his brow furrowed deeply. Then, as his understanding unfolded, his eyes widened with a new horror. “No,” he said, shaking his head emphatically. “Some recruit stole it as a prank and is too scared to come forward now. It wasn’t involved in the ship crash.”

“What is it, Cid?” Cecil asked again, and somehow his use of Cid’s name made the inquiry more formal. Then, Cecil’s serious expression softened. “Please. These two deserve to know if it might be involved.”

“A bomb,” Cid answered finally, closing his eyes tightly, as if that might absolve him of what he was saying. “It’s a small explosive device, designed to be triggered in the event of a ship falling into enemy hands. I wanted a way to destroy a ship, rather than hand the tech over.”

“Who knew about it?” Cecil pressed.

“Me and the Chief,” Cid paused a moment to consider something, then shook his head. “I did talk with Albert and Richard about Dragoons learning to deploy one. In theory, a dragoon could Jump to an enemy ship, drop the bomb, then Jump away before its detonation. I was working with Albert to decide on the right timing.” He saw the serious expressions on all three children’s faces, then shook his head. “Neither would have taken it. They wouldn’t even know what it looks like.”

“How likely is it go off accidentally?” Cecil asked next. “Could it have been planted on the ship, before their departure?”

Cid shook his head slowly. “Nothing is impossible, but unlikely. There’s a safety switch that keeps the wiring disconnected, so there’s no chance of it going off if thrown around. It must be set intentionally.” He threw his hands up, exasperated. “There’s no way it could be involved.”

“How many of your ships have crashed because of engine problems?” It was Rosa who spoke next, her question sounding small.

“Rosa, ships crash sometimes…” Cid started.

“Yes,” Rosa interrupted him, in rare defiance of a grown- up. “But those are because of pilots being stupid or monsters attacking,” Rosa continued, “but how many crashes are because your engines failed?”

Kain wondered when Rosa had gotten so brave, and if it was because of her grief or if Cecil was having a meaningful impact on her already.

“None,” Cid answered grimly, then shook his head, correcting himself, “This is the first.”

“Is it?” Cecil asked, which earned him a glare from Cid.

But Cid eventually sighed, the harsh expression softening. “It feels… wrong when someone dies in an accident. It might seem easier to find something to blame, but sometimes, people just die and there’s no reason for it.”

“Cid…” Kain finally spoke, “Wouldn’t you want to know if there was a traitor still in Baron, stealing your stuff and using it to kill our soldiers?”

Cid didn’t reply for a long moment, his temples tense, a few veins standing out in dark relief on his skin. “I’ll talk to the King,” he said tightly. He stood from the bench and dusted himself off a bit. “But you three go and stay away for a while. I suspect that more is going on than any of us know.”

Together, the four of them left the workshop, with Cid closing the door behind him. “I mean what I said,” he said in a serious warning tone, “I want you three to keep out of this. Go find some other childish mischief.” Cid paused, assessing each child in turn, perhaps wondering if they’d truly listen. Then, he added, "You promise?”

“Yes Cid,” the children answered in unison.

Apparently satisfied by this, Cid left, hurrying along the corridor to the center of the castle, where the throne room lay.

“Now what?” Kain asked.

Cecil was already in motion, pushing against the workshop door, testing the handle experimentally. When it easily opened, Cecil grinned. “Cid is always bad about locking up. It’s why he thinks someone just took it as joke, because it’s not the first time it’s happened.” With a purpose in his steps, Cecil walked into the workshop.

“What’re you doing?” Rosa also asked, following Cecil back inside.

“The infirmary has two levels, right?” Cecil posed the question to no one in particular as he moved through the workshop, looking back and forth in an obvious search for something.

“Yes,” it was Kain who answered, having memorized the castle’s exterior from Cecil’s roof.

Cecil seemed to find his prize, making a “Ah!” noise as he rushed over to the wall, to a folded ladder leaning against there. He pulled it away from the wall, testing its weight – while the ladder was not heavy, it was long and awkward to carry alone.

“What’s the plan?” Kain asked, as he stepped behind Cecil to grab the ladder’s opposite end, and the two boys held it balanced between them.

“Mischief, of course,” Cecil answered with a grin.

“After all,” Rosa added with her own growing smile, “We did promise.”

If the guards thought anything of the three children carrying a ladder through the castle, they did not comment – they only offered passing smiles related to memories of their own long-ago childhoods. By the time that Rosa, Cecil, and Kain made their way outside to the training courtyard, it had begun to rain; the wet, miserable winter rain made the insistent wind claw through gaps in the children’s clothing. The weather was a blessing, despite its discomfort, as it had driven away the usual trainees who regularly practiced in the courtyard; the children found themselves alone.

Ignoring the chilling cold, Kain guided them to western wall, while he scrutinized the area where the low roof met the edge of the wall. Once he was sure of the location, he stopped and eased the ladder up against the stone wall. He tested his weight against it, shifted it a bit to the left, then tested again. Satisfied, Kain looked back to Cecil, nodding in confirmation.

Cecil took a few steps back, looking up to the roof and following the line of it. His gaze settled somewhere, focused, and then he smiled. “There,” he said, pointing ahead, cold rain dripping from his hand. “That balcony connects to the infirmary.” Cecil looked back to Kain. “This is where you said the whole roof connects. Can you get us to the infirmary?”

Kain felt an odd flip in his stomach. He hadn’t thought that Cecil would remember their conversation about the roof. “I can. But only you, not Rosa.”

But Rosa was already kneeling, tying up her skirts to give her legs more freedom. “Not a chance,” she declared as stood back up. “Besides, you don’t know the inside of the infirmary or where the soldiers are.” Rosa looked extremely smug as she added, “But I do.”

Kain glanced back at Cecil for any support, but Cecil did not disagree – he only shrugged.

“Fine,” Kain huffed. “It goes me, Rosa, then you.” Kain narrowed his eyes in a serious stare at Cecil. “Promise you’ll watch her and make sure she doesn’t fall.”

“I’m not a baby,” Rosa protested.

“I promise,” Cecil said at the same time.

Satisfied despite Rosa’s pout, Kain turned back to the ladder and started to climb. With his long reach, it was easy for Kain to pull himself up and over the edge, then onto the roof. Behind him, Rosa struggled with her outstretched hand to reach the edge from the ladder’s highest step, but her fingers swiped just inches too short. Kain leaned down, grasped her by the arms, and felt a strange pang of familiarity as his earlier dream threatened to surface. Instead, he shook his head clear, then hoisted her up. Cecil was last and needed no help, pulling himself up as easily as Kain.

Kain crouched low, his arms outstretched to balance himself as he moved; the other two mimicked his posture. “Follow my steps and go slow,” he shout-whispered back at Rosa and Cecil. “It might be slippery in the rain.”

The children made slow progress over the sloping roof, Rosa and Cecil following in a single file line behind Kain. Once, Rosa slipped, arms flailing wildly as she tried to catch her balance. Cecil was behind her – he grabbed her by the shoulder and kept her from falling entirely off of the roof. When Kain saw gratitude in the brilliant smile she directed back toward Cecil, he instantly resented it.

Eventually, they reached roof directly above the balcony that Cecil had spotted. Kain lowered Cecil first, holding the dangling Cecil by his wrists. Kain grunted with effort as he swung Cecil inward, launching Cecil toward the floor of the balcony, and he was rewarded with a dull thud as Cecil landed. Rosa went next and was easier to lower down; Cecil was there to control her fall, helping her down to the floor as Kain let go. Kain himself gripped the edge of the roof, maintaining an unsure grip in the cold rain. He lowered himself down, let his whole body dangle for a perilous second, and then swung inward to land soundly on his feet.

Rosa took the lead next, silently beckoning the other children to follow as she approached the door to the inside. It eased open – no point in locking a door to a balcony, after all – and the children slipped inside, tracking in with them dripping rain from their clothing, shoes, and hair.

Inside, the second floor of the infirmary was nearly silent. Beds lined both walls in identical rows. Most were empty, the linens done up neatly and precisely without a wrinkle or askew pillow in sight. A white mage stood at the end, beside the only two occupied beds.

“What’re you doing here?” asked the white mage as he approached, looking concerned at the sight of the three children.

“My mother needs you to report to the King right away,” Rosa said, the lie sounding surprisingly natural. Kain had never heard her lie before and found it disconcerting. “She’s waiting for you in the throne room.”

“She did?” the white mage asked, clearly skeptical. “Why send you instead of a guard?”

“Because,” Rosa said, her mouth pressed into a thin, tense line, her words stressed with impatience. “She’s trying to keep gossip contained and you know how the guards talk.” Only family--” she vaguely gestured at Kain  “--knows right now and we’re trying to keep it that way.” When the white mage still hesitated, Rosa put both fists on her hips and frowned; it was a gesture she had learned from Joanna. “Go right away. I’ll let them know downstairs to send a relief, but I wouldn’t keep the King waiting if I were you.”

“Of course!” the white mage looked alarmed and took off nearly in a run.

As he exited, Rosa released a troubled sigh. “I’m going to be in so much trouble…” she lamented, then shook her head, as if that would dispel the terrifying thought. “Never mind,” she said, looking back to Kain and Cecil. “We won’t have much time, so let’s ask what we need and get out.”

“What do you want?” asked a gruff voice from one of the occupied beds.

The children approached, slowly. It was dimly lit in this wing of the infirmary to encourage rest for the recovering wounded. When they had nearly reached the beds, the children could see two figures – one in each bed.

The first figure, silent and unmoving, was not conscious. He lay prone on the bed; the only hint of movement was the faint rise and fall of his chest and stomach as he breathed. The exhalations were strained and labored, rather than the soft, breathy exhalations of deep sleep; a strange whistling sound punctuated each inhale. He wore no shirt or pants, and only had a loose sheet draped around his middle to protect his modesty. His face was hidden from view, wrapped up in loose bandages. It was only as they got closer that the children saw the wrongness of the man’s exposed skin – it was raw, red, and shining under the thin light of a nearby hanging lantern.

“Wh…” Kain started to ask, leaving the question hanging in the air.

“Newly healed skin,” Rosa whispered, her eyes still wide in horror, as she watched the man struggle through each breath. “With large injuries, the body can take only so much magic-aided healing, so they must do it in stages to allow the body to recover between treatments.” She covered her mouth with her hand, the next words muffled with disbelief. “His skin must have been all gone...”

“What happened to him?” Cecil asked, not to Kain or Rosa, but to the second figure in the adjacent bed.

The second man was resting in the bed, reclined at a slight upward angle, with several pillows behind his back to prop him up. He had the same bandages as the first, only these covered his whole body, with no exposed skin to be seen.

“What do you want?” the man asked again, breath rasping in his chest.

“We want to know what happened to both of you.” It was Cecil who answered. “Pilot Darklighter?” Cecil asked, a bit uncertain. “We need to know how your ship crashed.”

Kain realized he wasn’t sure anymore, a sudden anxiety seizing him – did he really want to know how these horrible events happened? He inhaled, and the breath was suddenly strangled in his chest and left him gasping.

Then, he felt Rosa’s small hand pressed against his palm, her chilly fingers laced with his. He looked down to see her watching him, looking concerned.

“Is this what you want, Kain?” Rosa asked, the question gentle.

“I don’t know,” Kain answered honestly, feeling dizzy with the indecision.

“What do you want?” the captain asked again, only this time through a sudden, heaving sob. “My ship… my ship! She’s gone up in flames and I’m trapped inside, so what more do you want for me?!” His head lolled to the side, an eerie mournful wail sounding from deep within his throat.

“What’s going on here?!” A new voice demanded.

The children turned around to see a guard, with the same white mage from earlier, behind him.

“So much trouble…” Rosa said with a wince.

With the guard glaring at their backs, Rosa, Kain, and Cecil found themselves escorted directly to the throne room. The guard closed the door behind him as he left. The room was almost entirely empty – only King Odin sat on his throne, and Cid stood before him. Cid cast an anxious look at the children as they approached, but he said nothing.

“First,” Odin spoke, his voice clapping like thunder through the room. “I will address Miss Farrell.” He settled his heavy gaze on Rosa, paralyzing her in place. “You know best of these three the importance of peaceful rest while healing, and you know that disrupting such rest is harmful. You harmed those men tonight, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Rosa gasped as if struck, new tears forming in her eyes.

“I would lecture you more,” the king continued, unmoved by her emotion, “but I suspect it will pale in comparison to what your mother has to say. Go straight home,” Odin commanded, “and think on how you must always show respect and dignity to the sick and wounded.”

Rosa squeaked something in reply, but it was inaudible through her sniffles. She left without a backwards glance to Kain or Cecil, her shoulders trembling as she cried.

“As for you, Cecil,” the King said less formally, now directing his stern glare toward Cecil. “I will say this once, and only once. Do not look further into this incident. There is nothing more that you need to know. Do you understand?”

“I understand, sir,” Cecil said obediently. If Cecil was afraid, Kain couldn’t tell. Cecil stood still and stiff, as if he were a soldier reporting for duty.

“Do not disobey me on this,” the king added, and for a brief second, Cecil did look frightened, unused to second warnings from Odin – they had never been necessary before. He gulped once, then nodded. Odin gestured with a wave, which Cecil took as a dismissal, turning to go.

Before he left, Cecil caught eyes with Kain and mouthed, I’m sorry.

Kain thought he was next, but the King looked beyond him, toward Cid. “Engineer Pollendina,” Odin said, resuming the formality. “This has been an unfortunate matter that does not involve you or anything from your workshop. After investigating, it appears your device was accidentally destroyed by a well-meaning engineer. However, I will take your concerns into consideration, but I will assure you that the matter has been settled. You will not worry further about this.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Cid said dutifully.

There was no further admonishment for Cid, only a curt, “You may go,” from Odin. Cid walked away, his eyes on the floor, but hesitated by the door. He drew in a deep breath, turned back to face the king and Kain again. He looked like he might speak, but instead shook his head to himself. Then he left.

Now, with only King Odin and Kain in the throne room, the silence felt deafening. Odin let it stretch on painfully, only watching Kain with a neutral look. Kain shifted uncomfortably, unsure if he should look at the King or not. Instead, he awkwardly glanced between the floor and Odin, unable to make eye contact.

“Kain,” King Odin finally spoke, easing the tension of the moment with a surprisingly kind tone. “I have put you in a difficult position, I realize.”

“Sir?” Kain asked, confused.

“Of course you have questions about what happened to your father,” Odin continued, “And of course you might be expected to seek out whatever information you can find. But I will do you this kindness and tell you honestly: there are no answers that will satisfy you.”

“I... I...” Kain stammered, unsure of how to respond.

“Look no further,” Odin said, “You must promise me this. For your own sake.”

Kain hesitated.

“For Cecil and Rosa’s, too,” Odin added.

“I promise,” Kain said promptly.

Richard Highwind’s funeral was a small affair, with only dragoons and Kain in attendance. This was not unusual, as dragoons were intensely private in general, but especially in mourning. There was no body to say goodbye to, so they all gathered in the castle’s highest tower and bid farewell to the wind instead.

Kain did not attend Roland Farrell’s funeral, as he was not invited – he dared not risk more of Joanna’s wrath, if only for Rosa’s sake. He hadn’t seen Rosa in the days and then weeks that followed, as Joanna kept her close by, although he watched from a distance each time they entered or left the castle.

Biggs and Wedge remained in the infirmary for nearly a month before they were able to return to their lives. Whatever was said behind those closed doors was never repeated, not even in the deepest circles of gossip. Kain thought about approaching them, to ask again of what happened, but then he remembered his promise to King Odin and knew he had to be a man of his word, as his father had always been.

Cecil became Kain’s companion, in those dark winter days – his only remaining friend in the gray, dreary world. They explored the castle together, quickly learning the castle’s layout and its daily activities. Baron Castle also became another friend, a constant witness to their play, sometimes surprising them with a new secret within her stone walls.

It was impossible, however, to keep Kain and Rosa separated forever. Eventually, their mourning period lifted; Kain and Rosa were expected to return to classes and resume their lives, however fractured they might be in the wake of their loss.

So as spring began to soften the cold earth, Kain stood waiting at the castle gates, trying to spot Rosa among the passing children on their way to the castle. When he finally saw her, his heart skipped a beat, and his mouth was suddenly dry.

“Kain!” she exclaimed, breaking into a run toward him. He caught her in his arms and they hugged, Rosa squeezing him possessively tight, as if she were afraid he’d disappear.

All seemed right with the world again. Despite the sorrow, Kain knew then that he would survive his father’s death, and find his path forward in life. He remembered King Odin’s warnings, to both himself and the others. As he stood there, holding Rosa, he decided to leave the past behind.

Kain could move forward, with Cecil and Rosa. All would be well if they were together.

Only one other thing of note happened in the lonely winter days before Kain saw Rosa again.

Kain had another dream; a singularly vivid, real-feeling dream. He was in his room back at his house, and he heard his father come in. It was something Richard sometimes still did, to check on him in the middle of the night, although Kain had told his father that he was old enough not to need it.

Richard crept quietly across the room, his steps soundless on the floor. But Kain knew this game, and kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep as he always did. Kain sensed Richard’s presence near his bed and heard Richard’s faint breathing in the quiet.

“Be a good boy, Kain,” Richard whispered softly. “And a good man, too.”

This didn’t make sense to Kain, not even under the veil of a dream. He opened his eyes, still blurry in the dark, and saw his father’s back as he slipped out the door. “Wait, Father…” Kain called out, but heard no reply.

The boundaries of wakefulness and dream collided… At some point, Kain must have actually woken up, because he blinked and suddenly he was back in his room at Baron Castle.

Grief seized Kain, hollowing him out. He felt utterly lonely in this dark, empty room. He did not cry, but supposed he might have welcomed it, as it might alleviate some of the heavy pit in his stomach. Only knowing he couldn’t be alone for a second longer, Kain found himself getting out of bed, his feet carrying him up the tower.

Kain knocked on the door twice before Cecil opened it, with sleepy eyes and disheveled hair. He didn’t say anything, only welcomed Kain in with a gesture and a grunt.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Kain asked, feeling meek, as he followed Cecil inside.

Cecil said nothing, only climbed back into the bed, scooting all the way over to the opposite side against the wall. When Kain did not move, Cecil flapped his arm weakly in the air with another grunt, in an attempt to beckon Kain towards him. Then he flopped back down on the bed, burrowing into the blankets.

Oddly, Kain felt sheepish as he approached, but tried to ignore it as he got into the bed. He laid there for a long moment, his eyes on the dark ceiling above, trying to puzzle out the dream he had. But it was fading quickly, and soon Kain found that it was only vague images that ended with intense loneliness.

“Thank you for being my friend,” Kain whispered to Cecil, turning his head to look over at Cecil. But he found Cecil was already asleep, curled up tightly on his side, breathing deeply through his open mouth. Kain found himself smiling. “I promise to always look out for you,” Kain told the sleeping boy.

With Rosa and Cecil to balance him out, Kain moved on.

Life moved on.

Chapter Text

Compared to life in the outlying remote villages, life in Baron was considerably privileged.

Designed by a Chief Engineer many generations back, Baron’s water system brought fresh water in from the nearby Baron River, while its sewage system carried waste away through a series of underground tunnels that eventually emptied into the sea. Artificially constructed waterfalls fed the incoming river water to the town; the water then passed through a canal in the northeastern quadrant of Baron and drained into a manmade tributary.

In the hot, sticky days at the height of summer, instead of laboring in the fields to help their families as other children did, Rosa, Cecil, and Kain spent most of their time at the New Waterways. They played in the mornings and afternoons, swimming and splashing each other, then napping in the warm sun to dry themselves off. In the early evening, when the air had cooled enough to be tolerable, they returned to the town to find new fun.

The children listened to the soldiers exchanging stories in the tavern and wondered aloud which ones might be true. They teamed up with other kids to play a whole-town game of hide-and-seek; whenever they were discovered, they ran shrieking through the streets. They hunted “treasure” among leather scraps from the Armor Shop’s garbage and cobbled together enough to make a sad suit of armor, which was worn by whoever was the Bad Guy that day. The other two children took turns to smack the “armored” child with their wooden swords – this eventually led to welts and bruises on each of the children.

Most nights found them back at the castle, watching the sunset from Cecil’s roof, and surrounded by the brilliant colors of the darkening sky. They sat together in a line, shoulders touching. Sometimes, Rosa would lay her head on Kain’s arm, eyes closed, basking in the happiness of the moment. Sometimes, Cecil would lean in against Kain, pressing arm to arm and hip to hip, and brief gusts of wind would throw Cecil’s silver hair into Kain’s face.

Most of the time, it was magical…

Sometimes, Kain found himself resentful of both Cecil (and the changes he brought with him) and Rosa. Kain burned with jealousy whenever Rosa paid more attention to Cecil, and when Cecil specifically sought out Rosa instead of Kain. He found himself endlessly frustrated whenever Rosa insisted on coming along after being told no, especially if her age or girlness slowed them down or thwarted their older boy plans.

Kain thrived on their shared moment in pairs– he and Cecil sparring to exhaustion, each trying to best the other; he and Rosa, gathering plants by the riverside, muddy to their knees as they ran wild along the banks. Kain did love their time as a group of three, because it was when they were at their best: Cecil the most clever, Rosa the most resourceful, and Kain, the most able (to climb, run, carry, or whatever task they needed). But somehow, he always feared it would end – that Rosa and Cecil would eventually tire of him and only want to be friends with each other.

Mid-summer, Kain turned eleven, his hair now reaching his shoulders. Rosa offered to trim it for him, then spent a patient hour carefully snipping, taking off as little as possible.

“Does it still look okay long?” Kain asked, peering uncertainly at himself in the mirror. Although Rosa nodded enthusiastically, Kain was watching Cecil instead; he was instantly relieved when Cecil smiled in agreement.

As summer became fall, the traveling bards, scribes, and tutors returned from their journeys, ready to spend another cold season in Baron, educating the kingdom’s children. Their stories from abroad filled the taverns, which grew increasingly crowded as the days became shorter and colder.

After the last harvest and celebratory feast, the children resumed their lessons at Baron Castle. They celebrated Cecil’s tenth birthday together, eating themselves sick on pies pilfered from the kitchens.

Winter arrived, with Rosa’s ninth birthday shortly afterward, one crisp, quiet morning after a raging snowstorm the night before. Cecil and Kain had gotten her two presents: blue hair ribbons and a collection of their too-small hand-me-down trousers. Joanna had stopped letting Rosa wear boys’ pants, citing the need for Rosa to start dressing appropriately, so Rosa would often borrow a pair before the children set off on their adventures together.

The two gifts to Rosa acknowledged and accepted her contradictory nature: being their friend, being like them, and being a girl at the same time. This contradiction was the essence of Rosa – running behind them in trousers worn through the knees, while blue ribbons streamed through her golden hair.

Years passed this way, in a repeating cycle of seasons and birthdays that was filled with play, learning, and fierce childhood love.

When Kain turned thirteen, King Odin summoned him to the throne room. He did not see the king often, usually only in passing in the castle halls, or occasionally as Odin came to watch dragoon training. But they did not speak, only warily watching the other.

“You are growing into a young man,” King Odin declared as he stood from the throne. He walked a circle around Kain, looking Kain up and down in frank assessment. Kain said nothing, remaining still and stiff as the king came to stand before him. Odin crouched slightly to look Kain directly in the eye. “What do you want in life, Kain?”

“To be a dragoon, sir,” Kain answered without hesitation.

The king said nothing, his expression too neutral for Kain to read. He straightened, then pulled something from his belt, holding it out for Kain.

Kain took it in his hand, turning it over. It was a small dagger, in a plain leather sheath. He gripped the slim handle lightly, then looked up to the king for confirmation. Odin nodded, and Kain carefully pulled the dagger free. It was simple, serviceable dagger – for daily tasks, not necessarily for bloodshed.

“If you choose a path within Baron’s military, you won’t just be a dragoon… you will be a tool in my hand,” Odin said, his voice solemn. “No matter where your path takes you, you must remember where your loyalties lie. You must trust me to tell you where to strike, as I must trust you not to betray me while you have a weapon in your hand.”

Kain sheathed the dagger, looking up to meet Odin’s serious eyes. “I understand.”

Kain started his cadet training in the fall. He was desperate to begin, to finally get a chance to stretch his legs and take his first steps toward being a dragoon. At the same time, he was terrified – not only did it mean being away from Cecil and Rosa for most of the day, it meant that they would be alone together, learning how to be friends without Kain around.

While Kain continued to be educated in math, literacy, history, and politics, he started learning in other (more physical and technical) areas: yellow chocobo riding, weapons training, field survival techniques, and first aid.

Most first-year cadets stayed within the basic classes, then were selected for more specialized training in their fourth or fifth years as they showed aptitude for a particular field. Kain was the rare exception, as the youngest cadet training alongside the dragoons.

One day, as they practiced proper landings by jumping off a tall stack of wooden boxes to the ground below, Kain spotted King Odin watching from a distance. Albert noticed too; he left the group of cadets, then crossed the training yard to speak with the king. From a distance, Kain couldn’t understand their conversation, although it was animated – multiple times, Albert gestured emphatically back toward the cadets, and the king simply shook his head.

Kain wanted to watch further, but it was his turn to climb the stack of boxes. He scrambled up the side, fast despite his smaller size relative to the older cadets. He saw the king walking away, while a cross-looking Albert scowled at the king’s back. Kain flexed his knees and jumped, bracing his ankles and knees for impact as he landed. Instead of lining back up to jump again, Kain took off in a run over to Albert.

“What’s that about?” Kain asked, certain that the conversation somehow involved him.

“Nothing,” Albert said tightly. “Don’t fret about the king. He just has less say about things than he’d like.” He turned to face Kain, his expression serious. “Remember. He is your king but not your master. You are a free man and can decide your own fate.”

“What do you mean?” Kain asked, not understanding.

Albert hesitated, considering Kain, then looking beyond, his eyes focused on some unseen object in the distance. “At the end of everything, you only have yourself to answer to. You must make decisions that you, not your king, can live with. Does that make sense, Kain?”

“Yes,” Kain lied.

Although Kain worried about his time apart from Rosa and Cecil, they always seemed eager to see him after lessons ended. Rosa usually had a pastry or piece of bread and cheese to offer as a snack, and Cecil was quick with suggestions on how to spend their time. Their play matured, leaving behind the grand games of pretend and make-believe to become focused on exploration and acts of daring. If Rosa and Cecil ever mentioned something that happened when Kain wasn’t around, Kain desperately tried not to feel hurt, but could not help himself. Rosa was always quick to say how boring lessons were without Kain, and that seemed to soothe Kain’s hurt ego.

The seasons passed quickly, with Cecil and Rosa always waiting for Kain.

Their dynamic changed again when Cecil turned thirteen and started as a cadet. Suddenly, Kain and Cecil were inseparable, and poor Rosa was left behind. Kain was thrilled to have a friend by his side again, but his excitement was quickly dampened as Cecil excelled in his lessons, ahead of Kain already in some areas. Kain seethed with the unfairness of it all, Cecil having the clear advantage with his royal education.

Their rivalry sparked anew, they tested their skills against one another to determine who was best at a particular skill and therefore ahead in the never-ending competition. Cecil was a natural at sword and shield, while Kain was better with two handed weapons, like the lance. Kain was more agile, whereas Cecil had more endurance. Although they evenly traded victories back and forth, Kain always felt like he was falling behind Cecil, despite Cecil’s younger age; somehow, that seemed unfair.

Rosa was always there to greet them at the end of each long day, with food and potions to ease their sore muscles and injuries. She complained of her utterly boring days without them, counting down the days until her next birthday.

Another year passed.

When Rosa finally turned thirteen, her first day as a cadet was momentous, both because the three friends were finally reunited, and because it was the first time that Kain realized what Rosa being a girl really meant. As Rosa wandered over to join the other first-year cadets, he saw a small group of girls approach her. He couldn’t shake the feel of dread that washed over him as he watched Rosa and the girls interacting, already engaged in a lively conversation.

Because both were busy with their own lessons, Kain didn’t see Rosa until the end of the day. He ran all over the castle looking for her, until he finally spotted her exiting the castle on the bridge that led into town, surrounded by the same group of girls from earlier.

He wanted to go to her – he could say something to get her to stay, but found himself paralyzed with inaction when he saw her chatting excitedly. Then, Cecil walked up beside Kain, watching as Rosa continued to walk away.

“Don’t worry,” Cecil said, taking Kain’s hand in his, to lead Kain back toward the castle. “It’s only the excitement of meeting new people. I know those girls, and they’re gossipy busy bodies. Rosa will tire of it soon.”

Kain followed easily enough, although he cast one last look over his shoulder at Rosa, who was disappearing as she became further away.

“Let’s go see if we can find any sleeping guards and see if we can sneak past them,” Cecil suggested, drawing Kain’s attention back. Kain looked back at Cecil, who was smiling gently – as if he coaxed a skittish chocobo – and for that moment, Kain forgot about his fears about Rosa and her emerging girlness.

Of course, Cecil was right; while it was sometimes infuriating, Kain found that Cecil’s assessments usually were correct.

Later that evening, Kain sat alone in his room, head bent over the day’s notes as he tried to memorize their contents, when he heard a knock at the door.

Kain was surprised to see Rosa on the other side of the door, as this was later than she usually stayed out. She didn’t wait for an invitation, simply walked past him into the room, with the confidence of a long-time friend. “Kain,” she said simply, by way of greeting.

There was a strangeness in her demeanor – she stalked past him then whirled around, brow furrowed in concentration as she considered him. She seemed to be puzzling something out, some detail about Kain that didn’t make sense.

“What is it?” Kain asked, taking a few curious steps toward her.

“The other girls are weird about you,” Rosa blurted out. “They think that you are…” She gestured vaguely, struggling to find the right words. “Well, apparently you are handsome, while Cecil is pretty. I’ve learned there’s a distinction.” She hesitated, her cheeks going suddenly pink, before she continued in a smaller voice, “They want to know which of you I’ve kissed, or if it’s both.”

“Oh,” Kain said, stunned by the new information. He had never been aware of other girls noticing him, or of Rosa thinking about kissing him, but the notion of both made his face feel hot and his palms go cold and damp. He saw Rosa watching him carefully and felt suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her intense gaze. “What did you say?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

Rosa shrugged, as if she were truly indifferent to the conversation. “I told them I hadn’t decided yet,” she answered, sounding unusually casual. Still, she watched him, almost warily, as if he were a stray dog that she wasn’t sure she could trust. Then, an idea prompted a new grin from Rosa. “Close your eyes and stay still.”

“Rosa?” Kain asked, trying not to sound panicked; he reflexively took a step back from her.

“I’m serious,” Rosa said, sounding exasperated. She closed the distance between them, putting a hand on his arm to still him. “If girls are going to start kissing you, shouldn’t it be me first?” she asked, then quickly added, “I mean, for practice.”

“For… practice,” Kain repeated, the words dry in his mouth. “Of course.” He didn’t move toward Rosa, but at least stopped his retreat. That seemed enough, as she peered up at him, waiting expectantly for something. Kain internally faltered, wondering what she was waiting for, then remembered her earlier command to close his eyes and stay still. Drawing in a breath to steady himself, he mostly closed his eyes, but continued to watch her under closed lashes.

Rosa examined him for a careful moment, as if to assure herself that his eyes were indeed closed and he would be still. She stood on tip toes to get closer to him, her face now impossibly near to his; she inspected him at this short distance, with her blue eyes wide as if she had never considered him this intensely before.

Kain briefly wondered what else the other girls had said to Rosa, to make her wonder about things like kissing and handsomeness. But then he inhaled, drawing in the combined perfume of her hair and the smell of her mouth, finding himself immediately enthralled with this new closeness.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then Rosa closed her eyes, leaned in, and pressed her mouth against his. He was immediately stunned into stillness – the only coherent thought that filtered through was his surprise at how soft her lips were.

Neither moved for a blissfully long moment, until Rosa finally broke the contact, pulling away and sinking back to her feet. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “I don’t see what the fuss is,” she said, despite her very red cheeks. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not a big deal at all,” Kain repeated dumbly, absently touching his fingers to his mouth. He thought he might have been smiling, too, but his face was too numb to tell.

“So much so,” Rosa continued, “… that there’s no point in even mentioning this to Cecil.”

“Oh,” Kain said, not fully hearing her words at first. Then, they sank in, and understanding slammed into him. “Oh.” Kain repeated, sounding more alarmed now. What would Cecil say about this? And why did Kain care so much about what Cecil might think? Wouldn’t this just be another contest Kain had won, not even knowing they had been competing?

“It will be our secret,” Rosa said as she opened the door, turning back to give Kain one of her dazzling smiles, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“Just ours,” Kain said, feeling a sudden lurch of guilt.

It was the first secret Kain and Rosa ever kept from Cecil, but far from the worst.

Rosa found her first year more frustrating than the boys had, as her instructors were always trying to redirect her attention to the infirmary – they insisted that Rosa’s talents were most effectively applied there. Thus, after each day’s lessons had ended, the boys would often find Rosa back in the training yard, sinking arrows into distant targets.

“They do not even watch me,” she complained one day, firing one frustrated arrow after another. “And they do not listen. I have no wish to be a white mage.”

“What do you want?” Cecil asked her. Although he already knew the answer, his question served as a prompt for further discussion. It was a gift Cecil had – to encourage people to speak freely.

“I want to cover your backs,” Rosa answered Cecil, although she looked directly at Kain, fierceness suddenly arising in her blue eyes from her passionate speech. “You’ll need someone to watch out for you, when you’re alone in the sky,” she paused, then looked back at Cecil and added, “… or on the battlefield.”

“But Rosa,” Kain said, “As a white mage, you could help so many more people.”

“But I want to help you,” Rosa protested with a frown, returning attention to Kain and meeting his gaze. “When will other people stop telling me what I want, even though I know what I want?” For a brief second, her eyes lowered, and Kain realized she was looking at his mouth. When she looked back up and their eyes met again, both blushed.

“You will just have to be firm about what you want,” Cecil offered, trying to be helpful, oblivious to the exchange between the other two. “Your mother and everyone else have their expectations, but if you truly want something, you should go for it.”

“I should,” Rosa agreed. She took up position with her bow again, drew an arrow tight across the string, then released it quickly. Despite her speed, Rosa maintained accuracy, and the arrow landed squarely in the target’s center. “If I want something, I should take it.”

Kain wondered what else Rosa wanted.

Cecil took up position beside Rosa with his own bow in hand. Mimicking her positioning, Cecil nocked an arrow, then drew the bowstring tight. Rosa lowered her bow, then turned to Cecil and corrected the angle of his elbow. Cecil released the arrow, and – although off by a few inches – the arrow struck the target’s center circle. Cecil grinned, obviously pleased with himself, as he usually struggled with longer ranged weapons.

Kain also wondered what Cecil might want, even though Cecil had never made any demands on either Rosa or Kain; he was apparently content with the current state of their friendship. Did Cecil have some secret longing that neither Kain nor Rosa had noticed?

As Kain watched Rosa and Cecil together, he wondered what he wanted, then realized that he didn’t know.

Chapter Text

With the winter months came indoor lessons, which focused more on academic pursuits. Kain also learned the histories of other nations, and the details of how their relationships with Baron had evolved. With most nations, like Damcyan and Mysidia, Baron had a bloody history of territorial disputes that eventually settled into a treaty and trade agreements.

Often, the Red Wings were dispatched to deal with menacing monsters in the skies over Damcyan and Mysidia, shooting them down from a distance with Cid’s newly upgraded mounted cannons. Zus were particularly troublesome around Mysidia, often harassing pilgrims who made the journey to Mt. Ordeals. In exchange for aid, Mysidia offered knowledge in the form of experienced mages to train Baron’s new mage recruits; Damcyan provided natural resources such as glass, or rare parts from exotic monsters that could be used in highly specialized potion-craft.

Although Kain was engrossed in his lessons, he found himself watching Rosa; he slowly realized how much she watched him, too, based on how often he noticed her doing so. Their eyes would meet; at first, Kain would immediately look away, and so would Rosa, often blushing. Eventually, both Kain and Rosa grew less shy – they looked more freely and held each other’s gaze when either of them noticed that they were being watched.

Kain became aware of Rosa’s attention toward him at random points during the day, sometimes while he studied in the library, other times as he completed drills in the training yard. Occasionally, the attention left him flustered and fumbling through his task; more than once, he dropped a weapon mid-spar.

Kain interpreted Rosa’s attention toward him as blanket permission to watch her too. He saw her prowess on the archery field; he noticed how her arms had become lean and muscled from countless hours of practice; and he observed how sharp and critical her eye could be as she released an arrow, rarely missing her target. Although Rosa was also aware of Kain’s attention, she was considerably more graceful – she never reacted awkwardly or stumbled in the manner that Kain often did. Sometimes she did acknowledge him, meeting his eyes and offering a secret smile that seemed only intended for Kain.

Each smile simultaneously thrilled and worried Kain, so that he wondered what would happen the next time they were alone together. Terrified by the prospect, Kain threw himself into his lessons and training with a new energy and zeal that left him too busy to ponder romance. A few times, Rosa almost had him cornered, but Kain deftly avoided her by claiming that Cecil was waiting for him.

Their shy flirtation continued, blissfully hidden from the rest of the world, until one day when Cecil innocently asked, “Does Rosa seem different to you?”

Cecil and Kain sat in Baron Castle’s mess hall, seated across from each other. Kain had devoured his food, but Cecil picked at his plate, barely eating anything while he was lost in thought. This was not unusual for Cecil – he was often prone to daydreaming, in which he idly stared off into the distance with unfocused eyes. But today seemed different, with Cecil looking more distracted than thoughtful.

“What do you mean?” Kain asked, feeling a new anxiety.

Cecil shrugged absently, uncharacteristically unsure. “I don’t know,” Cecil said with a vague frown, as he struggled to articulate his apparent concern. “She seems… I don’t know, older, I guess.”

“Older?”

“Yeah,” Cecil offered another indecisive shrug. “I’m not sure. I thought it was just her finally becoming a cadet and accepting that she’s a whole year older than when we were last together.” Cecil poked at his plate, his frown deepening; the expression looked odd on the usually cheery Cecil. “But it’s more than that.”

“I haven’t noticed,” Kain lied, desperately uncomfortable and hoping Cecil wouldn’t pick up on it.

“No?” Cecil asked, then sighed. “Perhaps it is nothing.”

“Perhaps,” Kain agreed, trying to sound casual. He cleared his throat, then spoke again, “I’m doing my first Jump from an airship tomorrow,” Kain announced, eager to change the subject.

“I know,” Cecil replied, and he was his old self again, grinning with his own cleverness. “I’m going too.”

“What do you mean?” Kain asked, now confused. Only dragoons and the Red Wings crew operating the ship attended the cadets’ practice Jumps; bystanders were not allowed.

Cecil’s boyish grin widened. “Cid persuaded the pilot to bring me along.”

Kain was silent for a long moment, taking in the meaning of Cecil’s words. While it was rare for a third-year cadet to be Jumping with the dragoons, it was absolutely unheard of for a second-year cadet to be shadowing a pilot. Prospective pilots were handpicked from newly recruited soldiers, and only Baron’s finest completed the extensive training to become official Red Wings pilots.

“Are you being groomed? To be a Red Wings pilot?” Kain asked, but it came out as unintentional accusation, sounding harsh. “Is this the king’s doing?”

Cecil looked surprised by Kain’s tone, blinking in confusion. “No…” he said slowly, now watching Kain with a wary eye. “The king hasn’t pushed me in any particular direction, only encourages me to keep an open mind. He tells me I must test myself and see where my natural strengths are, and that knowledge will help guide me.” It sounded like a lecture that Cecil had heard more than once. “Shadowing a pilot was Cid’s idea. I’ve been spending a lot of time helping him with the airships,” Cecil hesitated a second, then continued in a hurt voice, “…. while you’ve been with the dragoons.”

It wounded Kain to hear Cecil sound so defensive, as if he needed to explain how he spent his time away from Kain. Cecil made no such demands, Kain realized with a new wave of guilt. “Cecil, I’m sorry,” Kain said, the words feeling desperately inadequate.

“No, it’s okay,” Cecil said, still sounding small and dejected.

“No, really,” Kain insisted, trying to seem light and enthusiastic, “Being a pilot, that’s a big deal. Is that what you want? If the king didn’t have an opinion?”

Cecil looked thoughtful as he considered Kain’s question, then nodded slowly. “Yes,” Cecil said, sounding in awe that he was even able to say it. “Perhaps I’ll be skilled enough, and the king might let me keep this for myself. I could serve Baron well in the Red Wings, I think.”

“He is your king, but not your master,” Kain said, echoing Albert’s ominous warning. “For once, you could tell him what you want.”

Cecil shook his head. “It’s easy for you to say, you have the privilege of choice.” He did not sound resentful, only matter-of-fact. “Whether it’s a request or an order, I must do as His Majesty wishes.”

Kain considered this statement for a long moment, then quietly spoke, “You know, if you ever wanted to tell the king no, I would support you.”

Cecil looked surprised at this, his eyes widening. “You would risk that?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

“I would,” Kain said, then added, “… for you.”

Cecil seized Kain’s hands suddenly, holding them in his own on the table between them. “Thank you,” Cecil said, squeezing Kain tightly. “I love you, my brother.”

It was the first time Cecil had named Kain so, the first time he dared trust words to describe the feelings between them. The words simultaneously made Kain’s heart sink and soar, and he found himself terribly conflicted. How could something both invigorate and disappoint him?

Kain remembered Cecil’s excitement about being raised as brothers when they first met, and wondered if Cecil had been nursing this hope that they would be close since that day. Kain wondered, too, at his own conflicting feelings, and how else he would have preferred Cecil to describe their relationship.

The question alone made Kain suddenly uncomfortable, so he pushed it aside, determined not to think about it any longer.

The next day found Cecil and Kain boarding an airship together. Kain stood with the other prospective cadets, while Cecil disappeared with the pilot. Kain wondered if Cecil would be watching his Jump attempt – he was unsure whether that possibility made the attempt easier or harder.

Filled with nervous energy, Kain found it easy to compensate for the tilting floor beneath his feet by merely shifting his weight back and forth, depending on how the ship moved. Kain fared better than most of the other cadets, who stumbled and scrambled for something to hold onto. One cadet looked over the railing at the rapidly shrinking Baron Castle below and promptly vomited on himself.  Kain vaguely wondered how much vomit would still on the cadet’s clothing after he finished the Jump – if he Jumped at all.

It’s not that far up, Kain reasoned, taking his own peek over the edge. They were still low enough that Kain could see people milling about in an open field west of Baron, but they were too high for him to distinguish individuals. Rosa had promised to come, and Kain wondered if she stood with the gathering of white mages on standby to help any cadet who injured themselves in the landing. Kain looked around at the other dozen cadets, all clustered by the railing to peer down, and he wondered which of them would have broken legs before the end of the day.

A dragoon’s first Jump was a bit of a misnomer, it was more of a dragoon’s first fall. It was the first serious test of prospective cadets to see which of them could apply the theory of Jumping in actual practice, helping to determine who could be taught and therefore deserved to continue dragoon training.

Learning to be a dragoon involves understanding that your fall is inevitable, Albert had told them all on the previous day, True dragoons find a way to fall so that they always get back up again.

The ship found a comfortable altitude and maintained it, hovering easily in place over the open field.

The cadets milled about, steadier on their legs now. Some still peered nervously over the side, while others were engaged in their own private preparations, either meditating or praying fervently. Kain just watched, unsure if anything would help alleviate his anxiety in this moment.

A Red Wings soldier called out the first prospective cadet’s name; Kain was relieved it was not his. The young man, a fifth-year cadet who had been praying quietly, stepped forward. He seemed calm and almost serene as he made his way to the side of the ship, where part of the railing had been removed expressly for this training. Without hesitation, he simply stepped off the edge of the ship as if there were a lowered gangway where his foot would land. Instead, he plummeted. Kain, and the other waiting cadets, collectively looked over the edge at the falling figure, holding their breath as it approached the ground. From this distance, they couldn’t see or hear enough to know whether the cadet had landed safely, but several of the Red Wings soldiers let out a cheer.

One soldier laughed at the cadets’ obvious confusion. “If the white mages don’t rush over, it’s a successful Jump. If the whole group comes running – well then, you’re in trouble.”

The next name was called, and another prospective cadet stepped forward. This one, another fifth-year boy, looked more worried than the first, throwing back doubtful glances as he walked over to the open railing. He hesitated at the edge longer, before closing his eyes and throwing himself forward. At first, they could hear his frantic screams, but as he fell further away, the sound was lost to the swirling wind.

He hit the ground and several white figures ran across the open field. The soldiers did not cheer this time, but several did exchange coins.

Kain looked away, feeling suddenly ill that their success or failure had become a game for the soldiers.

Then, Cecil was on the deck, striding confidently toward Kain. Cecil clasped Kain by the shoulders and pulled him in for an unexpected hug. “Good luck,” Cecil said beside Kain’s ear, which prompted Kain to tighten the embrace, squeezing Cecil. Cecil tried to pull away, but found Kain’s embrace too tight, which made him laugh. Kain loosened his grip and Cecil disentangled himself from Kain.

“You look nervous,” Cecil remarked. “Don’t be. You will land soundly, as you always do.”

“Easy for you to say,” Kain replied flippantly. “You’re not Jumping off an airship today.”

“No, I’m not,” Cecil agreed easily, casting an uncertain glance over the side. “For which I’m extremely grateful.” He looked back up to Kain and smiled, full of light and cheer, the wind tugging at his silver hair. There was something new about Cecil like this, Kain thought, unsure whether it was the freedom of the blue sky around him or the taste of fresh air in his lungs that made Cecil look so alive now. “Rosa’s waiting for you on the ground,” Cecil said, breaking Kain’s reverie.

“Cadet Highwind?” asked a Red Wings soldier. Cecil waved sheepishly before taking off, navigating the deck easily as if this were his hundredth airship trip instead of the first. Kain nodded to the soldier, who continued, “It’s your turn.”

Kain swallowed hard, willing down his fear and anxiety, then followed the soldier to the ship’s other side. At the edge, Kain inched over to peer down one more time, confirming just how far up he was. Suddenly, he was dizzy and needed to close his eyes.

“I’ve got money riding on you,” the soldier said gruffly.

“Landing safe, I hope?” Kain asked, willing himself to steadiness. The world seemed to right itself, the vertigo clearing from his eyes.

The soldier let out a short, barking laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

For a long, painful moment, there was no sound but the whistling wind around the ship. Kain looked back into the ship, wondering if he could spot Cecil or if Cecil was watching now. Then, he looked back to the ground, wondering if Rosa would watch or if she would guard her eyes.

Kain inhaled deeply, steadying himself… Before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped off the ship and into the open air.

For a precarious handful of seconds that felt like an eternity, Kain fell without control, his limbs spiraling wildly as he tried to right himself and get his bearings. The wind screamed in his ears, shrill and demanding, trying to keep him off balance as he fell.

Then, something soft in the wind whispered, beckoning Kain. Still falling too fast, Kain angled toward it, and found a new current of wind picking him up, dramatically slowing his descent. He rode the current easily, finding it natural to follow its winding direction, not directly to the ground but in a circuitous path. There were stories about dragoons sometimes hearing voices in the wind, thought to be blessed by the Wind Crystal itself, to help guide them safely to the ground. Kain tried to shake the eerie feeling that he might have heard something divine and focused only on controlling his descent.

As the ground rapidly approached, becoming larger below him, Kain braced his knees and prepared for impact. When Kain landed, a terrible vibration rattled up from his ankles to his knees, causing him to cry out. He stumbled, then found his feet and straightened. There was a tense silence as the gathered dragoons and white mages waited to see if Kain had completed his Jump without hurting himself.

“I’m… I’m okay,” Kain announced, sounding just a bit unsure.

Despite the uncertainty, a cheer went up. Kain saw someone break away from the white mage group in a run towards him. It took him a stunned moment to realize it was Rosa, dressed in trainee robes, just before she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly.

“Thank goodness you’re all right,” she said, muffled into his chest.

“I’m all right,” Kain echoed back, then looked up to see Joanna’s narrowed glare. Reluctantly, he released Rosa, but instead of moving away, she grabbed his hand and held it tightly.

“Meet me back at the castle,” Rosa suggested, casting a glance back at her mother, who was starting to approach.

“Where?” Kain asked as he took an unsure step back, watching Joana warily. He had been careful not to cross Joanna’s path for the last few years, as it usually resulted in Rosa suddenly being unable to see him for days or even weeks.

“In the armory,” Rosa said quickly, turning away from Kain. “It’s far from the infirmary and all the soldiers will be in town celebrating tonight.” She didn’t wait for a reply, quickly running back to Joanna to prevent a confrontation.

Kain arrived first and was surprised to find that he was more nervous than during his earlier Jump from the airship. He paced back and forth in front of the armory door until Rosa arrived. She walked quickly, still dressed in trainee robes, with her head down as if she were in a hurry. As she approached the armory door, she paused to look back over her shoulder and confirm no one was watching. Kain wondered why she was so secretive, his stomach doing a nervous flip in response.

 Satisfied that no one was around, Rosa turned back, and her serious expression evaporated when she saw him. “Kain,” she said with a smile.

“Where’s Cecil?” Kain asked. “And why are you in trainee robes?”

Rosa looked confused for a moment, then answered, “He’ll be on the ship for a few more hours. The pilot wanted to take Cecil on a proper flight around Baron’s lands. And my mother wouldn’t let me come to your Jump unless it was with the mages – she was quite difficult about it.” She approached the door, opened it, then cast a glance back at Kain. “C’mon,” she said, before slipping inside.

Puzzled by her behavior, Kain followed, also looking once behind him to make sure no one else saw, then followed her inside.

Rosa was wandering the aisles of Red Wings armor, occasionally pausing to look one up and down. She didn’t glance up as Kain entered, only softly murmured, “You’re avoiding me.”

“I am not,” Kain countered, but he knew that she spoke the truth.

“You’ve been using Cecil as a shield,” Rosa continued, sounding matter-of-fact rather than accusatory. “Why don’t you want to be alone with me? We used to do things together, just the two of us, but not anymore.”

“I’m not…” Kain started to protest, then shook his head. “I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Because you’re different now,” he finally admitted, avoiding her eyes and staring at his feet. “And that terrifies me.”

“Me?” Rosa gave a small laugh. “The fearless Kain Highwind is scared of me?”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Kain said. “You give me these looks, full of questions and promises.”

“You give me the same looks,” Rosa said pointedly.

Kain sighed, unsure of what to say next, but the muffled sound of nearby voices from outside interrupted whatever thought he had. He and Rosa exchanged panicked looks, then scrambled away from the door, toward the back of the room. Kain wasn’t sure when it happened, but suddenly Rosa’s hand was in his as he guided her through the aisles of armor and weapons racks.

Somehow, as if by some miracle from the Crystals, the back door to the dragoons’ private armory was open. Inspired, Kain led Rosa toward the door, clicking it closed behind them just as the armory’s front door rattled open.

Currently unoccupied, the inside of the dragoons’ armory was dark without lamp light, only illuminated by thin rays of winter sun from the armory’s single window. But Kain knew the interior well enough to navigate. Still gripping Rosa’s hand tightly in his, he led her away, winding through the small rows of armor and weapons. They moved slowly, stepping lightly to avoid making any sounds. Even Rosa seemed to be holding her breath.

Crouching together, they came to a stop, with several rows of armor between them and the door. It seemed to be no coincidence when Kain looked up and saw his father’s blue armor watching them, silent in its judgment. Kain remembered his father’s warning, You may start noticing girls in a new way. That’s a normal thing, but it’s different with Rosa. Kain looked down at their entwined fingers and was struck with a sudden wave of guilt. Like my sister! young Kain chimed in cheerfully, and Kain’s guilt deepened to shame.

“Rosa, I…” He started to say, intending to tell her that he couldn’t play a part in this new game of hers, and that things must go back to how they were. He was fifteen and she was only thirteen, far too young to be distracted from their academic and military pursuits. It was the lecture Kain was sure Richard would have given if he were still alive.

Kain turned toward Rosa, to say all the reasons they couldn’t continue, but as he opened his mouth, Rosa leaned in and kissed him. It seemed somehow more scandalous there hiding in the dark – far more serious than their previous, comparatively chaste, kiss. Rosa seemed emboldened by the encouraging darkness, touched Kain’s jaw with her fingers and pulled him in closer, then parted her lips against his.

It was a strange, thrilling feeling, one that filled up his chest and belly, compelling him onward. Shy and uncertain at first, then encouraged by the gentle pressure of her fingers on his jaw, he kissed her back. It was a slow, careful kiss, as if he feared she would break if he pushed too hard. He cupped his hand around the back of her neck, his fingers threading through her hair. He was surprised at her softness, at her hair between his fingers and her mouth against his; he wondered where else she might be soft, then felt his blood roaring in his ears in response.

“Rosa…” he gasped as he broke off, in sudden need of air that he began gulping in greedily.

“Kain,” Rosa sighed his name.

“Kain?” asked a new voice, deep and booming.

Kain and Rosa startled apart, both abruptly wiping their mouths and looking up guiltily.

Albert stood at the end of aisle, his arms crossed over his chest. Even in the low light, Kain could see the dragoon’s furrowed brow and frown, along with the disappointment in Albert’s eyes. Kain’s stomach immediately dropped.

“Albert, I—”

“Miss Farrell,” Albert interrupted, instead addressing Rosa. “Please take a moment to compose yourself and leave. Do not let me catch you in here again or I’ll be having a serious conversation with your mother.”

“Yessir,” Rosa muttered, embarrassment coloring her entire face a deep red. With an apologetic look back at Kain, Rosa straightened her robes and rapidly departed, rushing past Albert as she left.

“I’m not going to lecture you about affairs of the heart.” Albert sounded surprisingly kind, despite the circumstances. “I know telling teenagers not to have feelings is a useless endeavor, so I won’t waste your time or mine. However, I will state two things.”

“Sir?” Kain prompted when Albert lapsed into silence.

Albert looked away, his eyes now on Richard’s armor. “When you work together, you must consider how your relationship with one person will affect the others on your team. Will there be hurt feelings? Will there be jealousy, or resentment?”

Kain immediately thought of Cecil and their conversation on the previous day. Cecil was already noticing a change in their dynamic. Would Kain’s emerging flirtation with Rosa somehow turn the trio’s friendship into something else? How would Cecil really feel if he knew?

Kain shrugged, trying to dismiss those troublesome thoughts.

But Albert was watching Kain closely and shook his head at Kain’s indifference. “If you were in a situation where you had to rescue her, or the future King of Baron, who would you choose?”

The unfairness of the question prickled Kain, making him too uncomfortable to closely examine any potential answer. The idea of losing either Rosa or Cecil made Kain’s stomach heavy with dread. He remembered Cecil dangling from the roof’s edge, and how close he had been to never experiencing Cecil’s brilliant presence in his life. Could Kain ever let go in that type of situation if it meant saving Rosa?

“You don’t have to answer me now,” Albert continued, sounding gentler now. “But you may have to answer it to yourself, someday. And that will be the hardest decision of your life, if you continue down this path with Rosa.”

“Albert?” Kain asked, sounding small now, desperate to change the subject. Albert nodded, so Kain continued, “You said you had two things to say.” He was hesitant to mention it, but knew Albert would remember later and be more angry if it festered overnight instead of just saying it now.

“Oh,” Albert sighed, then looked suddenly cross again. “Never bring her, or anyone else, in the armory again. You may have passed your first Jump, but you’re not a dragoon yet, and you might not ever be if I catch you behaving like this again.” Albert paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. Seeing Kain’s pained expression, Albert continued, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” Kain said promptly.

“Now,” Albert said, suddenly sounding more dejected. “The King wishes to see you. I don’t suggest letting him wait much longer, I wasted enough time trying to find you.”

“What does he want with me?” Kain asked, feeling a new fear creep up his spine, although he realized he should have expected King Odin to want to see him today.

“The same as always, I fear,” Albert replied with a new frown. “He will try to persuade you to a new path.”

“Why?” Kain asked, finally voicing the question he’d been too afraid to ask until now. “Why is it so important to him that I’m not a dragoon?”

Albert didn’t answer for a long moment, letting silence fill the armory again, growing large and awkward between them. Kain felt his anxiety rising with each second that ticked by, until Albert mercifully spoke again, “Truthfully, I do not know, although I do have my suspicions.”

Kain said nothing, waiting for Albert to continue his thought.

But Albert didn’t, instead waving dismissively. “Most likely, he is a king invested in the success of his charges. Go on, Kain, without worry. Only focus on whatever path you want for your life.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Kain asked.

Albert looked surprised at this. “No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “Do not listen to an old soldier’s ramblings.”

“Are you sure?” Kain asked, unable to shake the feeling that Albert was hiding something monumental from him.

This prompted a frown from Albert. “Go, Kain, and do not borrow trouble that isn't yours.”

Somehow, this advice didn’t alleviate Kain’s concern as he made his way to the throne room.

Surprisingly, King Odin wasn’t in the throne room, but a guard redirected Kain to the King’s personal quarters. Kain had never been in the royal wing of the castle before and felt a budding nervousness as he followed the guard through it.

Upon admission to Odin’s inner quarters, Kain found Odin in his personal study, seated behind a large desk. Kain had expected the king’s quarters to be extravagant, but it was a practical room, with neat bookshelves and tidy stacks of paper, meant for actual work rather than flashy display. After Odin gestured at the chair across from the desk, Kain sat and expectantly watched for any indication of why Odin had summoned him.

“Congratulations,” Odin finally said, watching Kain with a heavy gaze. “I heard you did very well on your first Jump.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kain replied quickly, knowing this was not the reason he was here.

“I think we misunderstand each other.” As Odin spoke, he leafed through a large book on the desk in front of him. He landed on a specific page and paused, looking at it carefully. Then, he looked up again to consider Kain. “I am not against your personal ambitions,” Odin continued, “I only wish that you would consider all of your options.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Kain asked.

Instead of answering, Odin turned the book around and slid it across the desk for Kain to see. On the page was an illustration of a figure in black armor, with spikes emerging from the knees, shoulders, and elbows. It looked evil and wicked, Kain thought, fighting the urge to look away from it.

“What is this?” Kain asked, unsure of what it had to do with him.

“A dark knight,” King Odin answered, with a surprising amount of reverence. “It’s a magic that has been lost for generations, but I recently acquired this tome from Fabul. It is rumored that the last dark knight, a man named Leonhart, lived for a time and left behind some dark knight relics.” He touched the top of the page; Kain was surprised to see Odin smiling. “You could be a dragoon, Kain. And you would be a good one, one of the best. You’re even a likely candidate for Commander, after Albert retires.”

Kain felt himself puffing up with pride at the king’s words.

“But…” Odin continued, either unaware or ignoring whatever effect his words might be having on Kain. “You could be so much more. You could be Baron’s first dark knight. You could start a whole new wing of our military and lead us into a new age.”

“What sort of magic is this?” Kain asked as he leaned forward, puzzling over the picture.

The king flipped to the next page, where there were several diagrams of exposed forearms and dagger points. After a long moment, Kain realized that the diagrams were instructions for where to cut on the arm. One illustration showed the result: a river of crimson sheeting down, painting the illustrated flesh red.

“Blood magic,” King Odin said with a strange awe in his voice. When Kain looked up to meet the king’s eyes, he saw a new greedy glint that was unnerving. “You would be unrivaled.”

“No!” Kain exclaimed, more forcefully than he intended.

Odin looked surprised at Kain’s outburst, but quickly mastered himself and assumed a neutral expression again. “I haven’t declared an heir yet for a reason.” He paused, letting those words and their meaning sink it, then added, “Would you at least consider this proposal?”

Everything inside of Kain screamed at him to shout NO and run away, far from Odin and this book full of dark promises. Instead, Kain drew in a deep breath to steady himself, then calmly stated, “I have the blood of dragoons in my veins. I will not hesitate to spill it for Baron, but…” He cast an unsure look at the open book between them. “But not like that.”

“I see,” Odin said tersely, closing the large tome with a dull thud. He nodded to the door and spoke, his already deep voice somehow sounding more ominous. “Go, Kain Highwind, and know that I will not make this offer again.”

As Kain went to the door, Odin’s warning followed him.

“Pray that you made the right choice.”

Chapter Text

Despite the tenseness of the encounter with King Odin, Kain felt victorious. Albert had warned him of the King’s influence, and yet, Kain remained on the path to becoming a dragoon, as he – not Odin – had wanted. 

Kain also felt victorious because of his brief time with Rosa, although he had been embarrassed when Albert caught them. He found himself wondering when he and Rosa would be alone again, and what that might mean. It was a curious change from the previous days of avoiding her; it seemed odd to Kain that one brief encounter could change so much.

Invigorated by his first airship flight, Cecil seemed more like himself. He spent the evening meal excitedly chatting with Kain, describing every detail, including how the pilot had let Cecil take the wheel. For one moment, Cecil had truly been flying through the sky.

“I know why you love it so much,” Cecil remarked. “But I think I’ll leave the falling part to you.” All concerns of Rosa and her strange behavior seemed far away now, and Cecil had regained his usual cheer. This new infatuation with flying might be enough to keep Cecil distracted from whatever thing was happening between Kain and Rosa.

Maybe, Kain dared himself to hope, just maybe he could have everything he wanted.

Kain nursed this hope for nearly two weeks before it all fell apart.

Cecil seemed distracted – he did not linger over their shared meals, and he went quickly on to his day’s lessons. Kain assumed it was due to a new preoccupation with the airships and excitement about learning more with Cid. Later, he’d regret that assumption.

At the time, Kain was distracted by his new place in the dragoon ranks. He was technically still a cadet, but he had already been accepted by the ranking dragoons. Thus, instead of training alongside the cadets, he trained with the new recruits, despite their age difference.

Rosa also served as a new source of distraction. She always seemed to be at the edges of everything, ever present, making Kain turn his head whenever he saw the flash of her golden hair in the crowd, or heard her voice drifting in from a distant conversation. Once, he swore that he smelled her before he saw her, but he thought that it might just be his imagination playing games with him. She haunted him like a ghost, through both his waking and dreaming hours.

They’d orbit around each other all day, until an opportunity presented itself, when both could steal away to hide together in a closet or sneak around a barely used hallway. There, they’d hold each other and kiss with the enthusiasm and focus only teenagers seem to have, each encounter escalating in intensity. Eventually, they’d part, giggling and breathless, with a promise to return soon.

Kain felt everything in a way he never had before – food seemed to taste better, air smelled fresher, and even the sun seemed to shine more brightly. His early morning enthusiasm and boundless energy visibly irritated Albert and the other dragoons.

Because of these distractions, Kain did not realize – or care – if Cecil noticed a change in either of his friends.

It was actually Rosa who first noticed something wrong, one morning as they broke their fast together in the Baron mess hall.  She’d been watching Cecil with an unusual intensity through the meal, then suddenly asked, “How did you hurt yourself, Cecil?”

Kain looked and saw what she meant – Cecil’s forearm was wrapped in a linen bandage. When Cecil didn’t answer, his expression blank and unreadable, Rosa reached and pulled Cecil’s arm toward her and turned it over to access the underside. She tugged the bandage loose, peered into the covered area, and frowned. “What happened to you?” she asked, blue eyes brimming with concern.

“An accident while sparring,” Cecil said, his voice wooden. He tugged his arm back from Rosa, clutching it possessively to his chest. “You needn’t worry.”

Perhaps if Kain had seen the wound, the angle of the cut and how familiar it was, he might have realized sooner what was happening. But instead, Kain chuckled and said, “Hope you gave it right back to them.”

Cecil smiled, but the smile was thin and did not reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, sounding vague and distant. “Listen, I have to go.”

“But you didn’t eat anything,” Rosa protested, nodding to his still-full plate.

“Not hungry,” Cecil replied. He stood from the table and abruptly left, without waiting for a response from either Rosa or Kain.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Rosa remarked as Cecil retreated, her eyes on his back until he entirely disappeared.

“No idea,” Kain said, his attention squarely on Rosa, rather than Cecil. “I’ll be busy all day in the training yard. Can I see you this evening?”

Rosa thought about his proposal for a moment, then offered a grin full of mischief. “Can I come to your room?”

Kain hesitated. So far, their interactions had been fairly mild, not progressing beyond long, intense kissing. Somehow, the idea of true privacy with her in his bedroom seemed like a monumental step toward something that Kain couldn’t quite define but was terrified of. “I guess so,” he said, uncertainly.

Sensing Kain’s trepidation, Rosa frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Kain said quickly, trying to recover the moment. He smiled, though it felt a bit forced. “Meet me there, later?” When she did not answer right away and continued to look unsure, Kain added, “Please?”

Like the sun parting rain clouds, Rosa smiled, and Kain’s worry immediately evaporated. “Yes,” Rosa said; Kain’s heart nearly burst with joy.

Kain paced around his room, simultaneously anxious and excited about the prospect of Rosa’s visit; the warring emotions made his stomach feel heavy with uncertainty. When he heard her light footsteps outside, he bolted for the door and opened it before she even knocked.

Initially surprised and then amused, Rosa laughed as she stepped in. “A bit eager?”

Kain closed the door behind her, then turned to watch as she strode through the room. “I did not want to keep a lady waiting,” he replied, trying to sound charming instead of embarrassed.

“Lady?” Rosa scoffed. “Since when?”

“You’re the one wearing skirts,” Kain pointed out.

“You’re the one noticing,” Rosa retorted. She found a seat at the edge of his bed, kicking her legs through the aforementioned skirts. “When did you start noticing, Kain?”

“I don’t know,” Kain said, unsure of what response she wanted from him. “When did you? Start noticing…” he hesitated, suddenly shy. “Me?”

“It was the strangest thing,” Rosa said, looking distant as she remembered. “One of the girls, Marion Oakes, was asking me all sorts of questions about you and I realized, she likes you—”

“The Weapon Shop owner’s daughter?” Kain interrupted, surprised. He vaguely knew Marion, but she was in the same space outside of Kain’s attention where all girls who weren’t Rosa existed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Rosa said, sounding slightly annoyed. But then she shrugged, as if she did not care, and continued in a casual tone. “But the more I thought about you together, the bigger this feeling got. Then I recognized it, because I had seen it in you.”

Rosa looked back at him; there was nothing accusatory in her words or gaze, only a calm explanation. “Jealousy.” She finally named it, that dark, twisting thing that lived in his guts, seizing him up whenever he thought he was getting less than he should – which, coincidentally, was always just a little more than whatever Cecil had. 

“You’ve always been moody if I’m doing something alone with Cecil, or if I am giving him too much attention,” Rosa continued, the words tumbling out of her. “At first, I thought you felt left out. But now I know you’ve been jealous.” She let that settle for a long moment, before asking quietly, “How long have you felt this way about me, Kain?”

“Always,” Kain blurted out before he could stop himself.

“So, what does that mean?” Rosa asked as she stood from the bed. “About what we’re feeling and how that changes everything?” She took a few hesitant steps toward him, before pausing to ask, “And what will we do about it?”

“I don’t know…” Kain trailed off, distracted as she came closer, now standing in front of him, peering up at him. He put his hands on both of her shoulders, to hold her there in place and keep her at arm’s length. She was too close for Kain to hold onto a coherent thought.

But Rosa thwarted him easily, ducking under his arm. She leaned in, not to embrace or kiss him, as Kain expected, but instead put her mouth by his ear and murmured, “Are you still scared of me, Kain?”

“Rosa, I…” Kain started, and suddenly wasn’t sure how this night would end.

A loud knock sounded on the door behind Kain. Startled and trying not to breathe hard, Kain whirled around and opened the door. He was surprised to find Cecil on the other side. Cecil looked worn and tired, Kain realized, and he had new dark smudges under his eyes.

Still, Cecil lit up with a smile as the door opened. “Kain, I’m glad I finally found you…” Cecil started, but then spotted Rosa inside, over Kain’s shoulder. Cecil looked back and forth between them, initially confused; then, his eyes darkened with anger as he had a new revelation. “Do you two even want me around anymore?” He sounded hurt now, his voice small and accusatory.

“Cecil…” Rosa said from behind Kain, walking up to meet Cecil. “Of course we do.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” Cecil shot back. “We used to do everything together, but lately, you never invite me along and it’s just the two of you.” Cecil shook his head, looking torn between feeling hurt and angry, unsure which would prevail. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Kain said, a little too defensively.

“I know,” Cecil said with a rare sarcastic grin, shaking his head. “I knew this would happen, eventually.”

Kain was paralyzed, unable to refute what he feared Cecil was about to say.

“Cecil, nothing’s going on--” Rosa started, trying to do what she always did: smoothing out hurt feelings, acting as a gentle buffer between them.

“No,” Cecil interrupted, ignoring Rosa and her calm tone. “I get it. You two have finally decided I’m too weird or too privileged or too something, and you’d rather be friends without me.” Shockingly, tears had formed in Cecil’s eyes. “You can just admit it.”

Instead of feeling relief that Cecil had not guessed the truth, Kain found himself mortified, unable to grasp how he could allow Cecil to feel so rejected and unwanted. “Cecil,” Kain said, trying to sound gentle. “That’s not true.”

“It is!” Cecil shot back. Angry tears spilled from his lashes, and he dragged his sleeve across his face to wipe them away. “Just leave me alone!” Cecil cried, before taking off down the hall to the tower’s inner staircase.

“Cecil!” Kain called out after him, but Rosa’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“We should tell him,” Rosa said to Kain, as he turned to face her. “It will be an adjustment for him, but at least it’s the truth.”

“I don’t think it will help,” Kain said, inwardly wincing at the possibility of Cecil looking so hurt again, of Cecil feeling excluded from this thing that Kain and Rosa now shared. And what exactly was that thing, Kain wondered, filled with a dangerous curiosity about what might have happened if Cecil had not interrupted. How could he explain that to Cecil?

“Perhaps not at first,” Rosa insisted. “But it is better than sneaking around.”

“Let’s go check on him,” Kain said, instead of answering her or her complicated proposal.

Together, they climbed the staircase to the highest floor. Cecil tended to leave his door unlocked, as Kain still occasionally came to Cecil’s room in the middle of the night, when Kain awoke and was too lonely to return sleep. Kain wondered if his need for comfort would now transfer to Rosa, instead of Cecil, who uniquely understood Kain’s loneliness in a way that Rosa never could. The idea made Kain inexplicably sad.

Now, however, the door was locked. Kain knocked loudly, and when Cecil did not immediately answer, Kain called out, “C’mon, Cecil, let us in.”

The silence stretched on without an answer from Cecil.

Rosa knocked next. “Cecil, please! Can we please talk?”

A strangled cry sounded, muffled through the door, and then a low, moaning wail.

“Cecil!” Kain shouted, tugging on the locked door again. He pressed his ear to the door and could faintly hear Cecil’s sobbing on the other side. He stepped back from the door, and motioned Rosa to move as well. Once she backed away, Kain ran into the door, shoulder first. The door shook but did not break.

Then, miraculously, Kain heard the lock rattle, and the door swung outward. Cecil stood there, looking pale and shaken, something dark streaked in his hair.

“Help,” Cecil croaked, holding his arm out. “I… slipped. The knife—"

Then Kain saw the blood; there was so much of it, and its coppery smell overwhelmed him. Blood streaked up Cecil’s arm, pooling at his wrist – no, Kain realized, it was coming from his wrist. A smeared red handprint marked the door, where Cecil had leaned as he worked the lock.

“Cecil!” Kain called out in alarm, starting forward.

Cecil bent over, cradling his sliced wrist to his chest. Kain caught Cecil before he fell and eased him carefully to the floor. Cecil tried to hold on to Kain’s shoulder for stability, but instead only smeared blood across Kain’s shirt and neck; Cecil’s trembling hands were too slick with blood to maintain a grip. Across the room, Kain spotted a knife on the floor, in its own puddle of sticky red. The sight of it made Kain dizzy – how much blood had Cecil lost?

“You’re okay,” Rosa said, her tone soft and soothing. “Cecil, you’re okay. Look at me.” She got into his line of sight, making eye contact with him.

Cecil blinked and tried to maintain focus on her, but moaned in pain instead, as his eyes rolled back in his head.

“No, no, no,” Rosa insisted. She took his chin in hand and forced his gaze back down to her. “I’m right here, stay with me Cecil, okay?” She looked over to Kain as she rolled up her sleeves. “Hold him still,” she instructed, with the practiced ease of someone in charge of the moment. She knelt on the ground beside Cecil, drew her hands into her lap, and began to pray.

No, not pray, Kain realized, as golden light began to build around Rosa. She was casting a spell instead, the arcane words sounding strange and foreign on her tongue. Under the new light, Kain could see the broken skin of Cecil’s wrist twitch and pulse, then began to knit itself back together.

Kain had seen Rosa use magic before – a simple Cure spell for a bruised knee, Esuna once when she discovered Cecil had eaten poison berries. She had sworn Kain and Cecil to secrecy so that they would not tell Joanna about her abilities, as Rosa had been feigning incompetence with white magic to avoid ongoing lessons. But this healing, the way it lit her from within, how easily she mended Cecil back together… this was something Kain had never witnessed, not even when he occasionally was healed by more experienced white mages at the infirmary.

“Rosa?” Kain asked, full of unexpected awe. “Did you know you could do this?” He ran his thumb over Cecil’s wrist and found the still-bloody gash sealed over with new skin. Cecil groaned once, then went limp in Kain’s arms.

“Get him to the bed,” Rosa commanded instead of answering, though now she sounded suddenly weary. She got to her feet, then swayed uncertainly.

“Rosa!” Kain called out, alarmed but trapped underneath Cecil, unable to get to her side.

“I’m all right,” Rosa said, though her voice was thin. She went to Cecil’s desk and sat on the chair, heaving a relieved sigh as she did so. “His wound was…” Rosa’s voice dropped to a whisper, “…intense,” she finished, her eyes wincing closed. “What was he doing?” she asked, but Kain knew the question was not directed at him.

With some effort, Kain was able to lift and carry Cecil across the room; he attempted to be careful while easing Cecil onto the bed. Cecil looked ghastly, his skin pale; the smears of blood on his skin appeared black in the receding daylight.

“I need to go,” Rosa said, sounding regretful. “I’m dead on my feet, and if I fall asleep here, my mother will actually kill me this time.” She walked to Kain’s side, touching his shoulder, drawing his attention to her. “He just needs to rest and recover from the healing. Will you stay with him tonight?”

Kain looked back to Cecil, who lay still and unmoving; his sleep appeared painful, rather than peaceful, and it seemed that every movement caused additional pain. “I will,” Kain said.

Rosa squeezed his shoulder, and again, Kain looked back at her. “Can we talk, tomorrow?” she asked, sounding unsure.

“Yes,” Kain answered, but he was already looking back to Cecil, unable to ponder anything else.

Rosa withdrew, and Kain heard the door closing behind her as she left. Kain waited a long while, just watching Cecil breathe, reassuring himself that Cecil would be all right. Finally, when Kain could wait no longer, he went to Cecil’s desk.

It didn’t take Kain long to find on Cecil’s desk, which was always neat and orderly. The large tome sat alone in the desk’s top drawer. Kain pulled it free and found that Cecil had bookmarked it with a piece of parchment, which was already covered in Cecil’s neat, meticulous notes. Kain opened the book to the bookmarked location and found what he expected: diagrams and illustrations showing new dark knights how to injure themselves in pursuit of blood magic.

“Damn it!” Kain roared, slamming the book closed. Guilt swam over him, as he realized that Odin had chosen Cecil only after Kain had rejected the dark knight path. If Kain had taken it on himself, could he have spared Cecil this suffering? Was this Odin’s way of punishing Kain for his refusal? Kain remembered the pain in Cecil’s eyes, and he knew it was not caused by the knife alone.

Pray you made the right choice, Odin’s warning echoed in Kain’s memory.

Chapter Text

That night, Kain didn’t sleep. First, he took his time cleaning the blood from Cecil’s arms and face, who slept fitfully through, despite the cold water. Kain could do little about the blood threaded through Cecil’s hair and the sight of it broke his heart. Then, Kain wiped the floor, trying to wash away all evidence of what had happened. He did his best, but there were still faint red smudges soaked into the grains of the floorboards.

It took Kain longer to approach the knife on the floor, left in its own small puddle of tacky blood, the handle marked with Cecil’s bloody fingerprints. Kain was dismayed yet not surprised when he saw the knife was a twin of the one Odin had given Kain. He wondered how many young people Odin had tried to persuade with a pretty speech about loyalty and how often it worked.

After that, Kain alternated between keeping vigil over the still sleeping Cecil and reading the dark knight tome. He leafed through the pages, trying to make sense of the magic that almost drowned his friend.  With growing horror, Kain read the detailed instructions of focusing on painful thoughts and memories and using them to conjure the darkest feeling within oneself: hatred. It was this hatred as much as the blood itself that fueled the dark magic.

Kain imagined Cecil, the blade pressed to his skin, pulling up every terrible memory that ever made him feel awkward and excluded, every interaction where he felt like an outsider, and all the times when Rosa and Kain left Cecil behind. Kain imagined Cecil’s loneliness bled into resentment, and eventually into hatred. Could Cecil really hate Kain and Rosa? Kain was paralyzed in fear at the very thought.

Kain did not think much about Rosa on her own, not allowing his thoughts to drift her way. If he dared, if his mind wandered to the moment that nearly happened between them, he felt an intense wave of guilt that was too much to bear.

Finally, as the sun climbed the horizon and sent shining rays in through the window, Cecil opened his eyes to the light. “Kain?” he asked, gaze still blurry and unfocused from sleep.

“I’m here,” Kain said, crossing the room to sit on the bed’s edge. “How are you feeling?”

“Embarrassed,” Cecil said bluntly, sitting up in bed. He looked down at his wrist, saw the clean flesh and the tiny white seam where the gash had been. He held up his hand, wonder on his face. “Who did this? Did you get a white mage?” Cecil gulped loudly, then asked in a scared voice, “Who knows about this?”

“It was Rosa,” Kain said quickly. “Only she saw. And she doesn’t know about the...” Kain hesitated, looking back at Cecil’s desk. “...the dark knight stuff.” Kain looked back to Cecil, concern softening his tone. “Did the magic work?” Kain asked, desperately hoping Cecil would say no.

“Oh,” Cecil said in a subdued tone. He didn’t answer for a long time, then quietly spoke. “You found the book, huh?” he asked, avoiding Kain’s question. Cecil seemed less troubled by the idea of just his friends knowing, and that thought alone was a comfort to Kain.

Kain considered telling Cecil the truth: that Odin had approached Kain about dark knight training first. But would the sacrificial lamb want to know they were a second choice? Kain decided that it would only hurt Cecil more, and just nodded in reply.

Cecil sighed, his shoulders deflating. “I suppose the secret’s out now, isn’t it?”

“Did it work?” Kain asked again, not allowing to let Cecil slip away from the question.

Cecil said nothing, looking out the window instead. He looked frail in the critically honest light of the morning sun, bright and unforgiving as it exposed him: the dark circles under his reddened eyes, the uneasy tension of his mouth, the rusty brown streaks of dried blood spoiling his silver hair. Cecil’s hurt was raw and on display; Kain wanted to look away but found himself unable.

“Yes,” Cecil finally answered, his voice small and quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Kain said, the words tight in his throat. “Do you...” he hesitated, finally forcing himself to look away, his guilt weighing him down. “Do still you hate me?” Then, correctly himself quicky, “Us? Me and Rosa?”

“No,” Cecil said quickly, shaking his head. “No, Kain, not at all. It wasn’t hating you, or Rosa, or anyone else that finally let me tap into the magic.” Cecil looked down at his wrist, then touched the new scar with careful fingers. “It was hate for myself,” he said quietly. Cecil looked back up at Kain, a new pain in his voice. “I could never hate you.” How could you doubt me? Cecil’s wounded eyes wordlessly accused Kain.

“How can you hate yourself?” Kain asked, incredulously. Years later, he’d reflect on this question and scowl at his past self’s naivete.

Cecil gave a small laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You saw my tantrum. And all because you two were spending time together? I hate myself for my selfishness, for my stupid need for more attention, more approval, more love.” He threw his hands in exasperation. “Where does it end? If I am to be king, where will my greedy grasping lead Baron?”

Kain had no answer, stunned into silence by Cecil’s admission. He always seemed so damn perfect all the time, how could even Cecil be struggling with own unfulfilled wants? Kain felt another pang of guilt, wondering again what Cecil might think of Kain and Rosa together, without him?

“At least this way,” Cecil continued, when Kain had said nothing for too long, “I can redirect my worst parts into something useful.”

“Do you have to do this, Cecil? Can’t you tell the king no?” Kain asked. The idea of Cecil intentionally hurting himself gutted Kain in a way he could not articulate. “You could be a pilot. Or a knight. You’d do well at both.”

“But not as well as this,” Cecil whispered with an awe that frightened Kain. He looked down at his wrist again, running his thumb back and forth across the new scar. “I could feel... so much power. I won’t ever be as good at anything else.”

“But Cecil--”

“I can’t tell the king no,” Cecil continued over Kain, his voice unusually stern. “You, with your father’s legacy, have a choice. I owe the king everything and so I must give him everything.”

Before Kain could protest further, heavy boots thundered outside the room, followed by a quick knock at the door. With alarm, Kain stood, scrambled for the door, then opened it.

King Odin stood on the other side, tall and imposing. In Kain’s wild imagination, it was as if Cecil had summoned Odin by name, invoking old forgotten fey magic.

“Your Majesty,” both Kain and Cecil said at the same time.

The guards remained outside, as Odin stepped in. He acknowledged Kain’s presence with a curt nod, then crossed the room quickly to Cecil’s beside. “You are not well,” Odin said, not as a question but a statement. “I thought something might be wrong when you missed your morning lessons.”

“Forgive me sir,” Cecil said quickly, looking mortified. “I am, as you said, unwell.”

Odin reached down, lifting Cecil’s arm. He turned it over, to look at the underside of Cecil’s wrist. “You attempted on your own?”

“I did,” Cecil admitted shyly.

“But did it work?” Odin asked, a new eagerness in his voice. He touched Cecil’s wrist curiously. “Did you figure it out?”

“I did,” Cecil said, but this time he smiled.

Kain’s stomach dropped.

“My boy!” Odin boomed, pulling Cecil into an unexpected embrace. Kain had never witnessed Odin showing any affection before and the sight of it shocked him. Cecil seemed equally surprised; his eyes going wide over Odin’s shoulder. “You did it!” Odin released Cecil, but still gripped him by the shoulders. “If you do this right, you will be unmatched.”

Cecil soaked in the attention like a parched plant, becoming more alive and blooming.

Kain hated it.

Then, suddenly, Odin was frowning again. Odin released Cecil’s shoulders and picked his hand back up, holding Cecil by the wrist to inspect the scar. “Who did this?” Odin asked. “These wounds are complicated and difficult to heal without training.”

“Kain brought a healer from the infirmary,” Cecil said quickly. It was the first lie Kain had ever heard Cecil utter. “I did not recognize them. They were robed.”

Odin dropped Cecil’s wrist, turning on his heel to face Kain now. “Who was it, Kain?”

“I don’t know many of the white mages,” Kain said, not directly lying, hoping that made it somehow more acceptable.

Odin frowned deeper but said nothing more about it. Instead, he looked back to Cecil. There was almost fondness in his voice as he said, “We will talk more after you’ve recovered.”

“Yes sir,” Cecil agreed easily, sounding relieved.

Odin left, with one last fond look back at Cecil, his hand lingering on the door’s frame. Then, he was gone, the door closing behind him.

Kain waited until he could no longer hear the soldier’s retreating footsteps, then turned to Cecil. “You lied to the king,” Kain said, in an equal mix of shock and admiration. “You would do that?”

“For Rosa,” Cecil clarified, looking out the window. Kain wondered what had caught Cecil’s eye, only spotting the faint outline of the daytime moons in the blue sky. Then, Cecil smiled and looked back to Kain. “And you.”

Kain’s heart picked up in rhythm, hammering hard against his ribs.

“Rosa must be allowed to follow her own ambition,” Cecil said solemnly. “She should have as much control of her life as she can. If that means being an archer, despite how we worry about her being in combat, then we must help her in any way we can.”

“She would be safer as a white mage,” Kain said.

“She would,” Cecil agreed easily. “But it’s not up to us. We can only help hide her talent from the king and her mother. If either found out, then they might force her into it.”

Kain opened his mouth to protest further, but a sudden yawn seized him. Cecil smiled and shook his head. “Go and get what sleep you can,” Cecil said.

At the mention of sleep, Kain was hit with a wave of exhaustion, his adrenaline from the night and meeting with the king finally wearing off. He just needed sleep, he thought, then he could sit and think of a way to resolve the tangled mess between the three of them.

Somehow, Kain would put things back to how they used to be, and all would be right in their world.

Kain slept several hours, dead to the world and dreamless, until persistent knocking at the door finally roused him awake. Groaning with effort, he rolled out of the bed, stumbled to the door, and opened it to find Rosa. At first, she wore a serious expression, but it softened when she saw him.

“Oh, Kain,” Rosa murmured. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Kain muttered, sounding more resigned than sarcastic. He stepped back to let her in, and Rosa breezed past him. Today, she wore her hair in a thick braid down her back, with blue ribbons woven throughout. The ribbons had been a joint gift, but Cecil had picked them out, Kain remembered with a new wave of guilt.

“Come sit,” Rosa said, standing behind the chair at his desk. Kain obeyed wordlessly, knowing this ritual leftover from their childhood. He sat and Rosa picked up a brush. With practiced fingers, she began combing through his hair, easing out the tangled strands.

“I saw Cecil,” Rosa said conversationally, as she continued to brush. “He told me everything about the dark knight training. He said there should be no secrets between the three of us.” She paused, her fingers still in his hair. “We must convince him to stop.”

“I will try,” Kain said, though he did not sound optimistic. He reached up to take her wrist in his, and she paused, brush still in hand. “We need to talk.”

Rosa disentangled herself from him, rounding the chair to face him directly. She frowned slightly; her brow knit with concern. “What is it?”

Kain watched her for a careful moment, before drawing in a deep breath to steady himself, then saying, “I think we need to stop seeing each other… alone. For Cecil’s sake.”

Rosa looked surprised, then laughed nervously. “What? What do you mean? Be serious, Kain.”

“I am!” Kain retorted, a bit more forcefully than he intended.

It seemed to have caught Rosa off guard as well, as she took a step backward. Her surprise sharpened into disbelief as she shook her head. “No. You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean it,” Kain corrected her, softening his tone.

“Why?” Rosa asked, the single-world question sounding watery and fraught with the threat of tears.

“Because it will hurt him,” Kain said, dropping his gaze to the floor, unable to bear the sight of her looking so disappointed. Then, he thought of the same look on Cecil’s face and that was somehow more unbearable. Kain abruptly stood from the chair and took several steps back from her to put distance between them, as if that would help. “If he continues the dark knight training, his pain will only be magnified.” Kain paused, letting the words sink in first before adding, “How can we do that to him?”

“How can you do this to me? To us?” Rosa asked instead. “Why are Cecil’s feelings more important than ours?” When Kain did not answer, avoiding eye contact again as he stared at the floor, Rosa continued in a small voice, “Do you care about him more than you care about me?”

“Rosa, it’s not that simple,” Kain protested. “I want to do the least harm. Cecil has no one else but us. He needs us, and our friendship, to balance him out. We must be there for him as he learns to endure this.”

“Unbelievable,” Rosa muttered as she turned away from him. “You’d rather make yourself miserable than take any risk to upsetting things as they are. You’d rather go without than take a chance and be vulnerable and say what you really want.” She started for the door, speaking as she passed by him. “Nothing ever stays the same, Kain. You will have to learn to adapt as they do.”

“Rosa, wait--” Kain started toward her.

“No,” Rosa interrupted him. She had traded her hurt for anger, her words tight through her clenched jaw. “Think about what you want, Kain, but don’t wait too long. It may not be there for you once you’ve finally made up your mind.”

“Please, Rosa, you have to understand--” Kain pleaded, but was cut off as she slammed the door behind her.

Kain looked at the closed door, full of a longing he did not understand.

Kain dressed himself, then found the castle steward in his office. Kain left a message, then went down to the kitchen, hoping to find something left over from the midday meal. Luckily, the cook had a soft spot for hungry cadets, and gladly fed Kain. He was sitting in the mess hall, finally clearing the last of the food from his previously heaping plate, when a guard entered, heading for Kain with a purpose in his step.

“His Majesty requires your presence,” the guard announced, not asking but demanding.

Kain stood and followed the guard, through the castle and further into its interior, where the throne room was. It felt like intentionally venturing deeper into the den of a known predator, naively hoping to avoid their teeth and claws.

Kain was immediately admitted to the throne room, where once again, he found himself alone with the king. Odin sat on his throne, leaving far forward, his hands braced on his knees.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Odin asked, never one for formalities between soldiers.

“I’ve come to offer myself for dark knight training,” Kain said, before he could talk himself out of it, “...If you release Cecil from it.”

“You’ve come to bargain with me?” Odin asked with a raised eyebrow. “You are either very brave or very foolish.”

“Sir,” Kain pleaded. “Don’t do this to Cecil.”

“It is already done,” Odin said without pity, “And it will not be undone.”

“But sir--”

“I offered this to you first, because I thought you would be best at it,” Odin raised his voice, not much, but there was a sense of careful control in each word. “With tragedy so early in your life, you know pain in a way that is unique. It has almost always been a part of you, growing as you do.” He started to speak faster, his anger now bleeding through. “That pain, used right, could have been powerful in your hands! Your mother would have—” Odin abruptly stopped, then shook his head. “Never mind,” Odin said curtly. “It does not matter anymore.”

“Sir...” Kain tried to speak, but there were sudden tears standing still in his eyes, threatening to spill out. He blinked hard, trying to will the tears away, embarrassed and surprised by them. What did his mother have to do with any of this, he wondered.

Odin was unmoved by this show of emotion, his expression and tone remaining neutral. “You will one day be the Commander of the Dragoons. Cecil will rise, too, to where his talents take him. Together, you will lead Baron into a new dawn of prosperity. Is that not enough for you?”

Kain had no reply; he could envision Odin’s ambition of he and Cecil, glorious in victory together, but Kain also saw the blood trailing behind Cecil, not just his enemies’ but mostly his own. His tears were hot in his throat as he swallowed them down.

“Go, Kain,” Odin commanded. “And know you are getting exactly what you and your father wanted.”

Feeling defeated, Kain almost gave up, allowing events to play out as they seemed destined. Could he really do anything to change what might happen? Then he thought of Rosa, of her unprotected on the battlefield and knew that knowledge might unman him.

No, Kain thought as he made his way to the infirmary, this was for the best.

When he arrived, he got several curious looks from the white mages and their trainees; he was uncomfortable until he realized they were wondering how he was injured or what illness he suffered from.

“Oh, no,” Kain said, “I’m all right.” The white mages visibly relaxed, no longer poised to spring into action. He wondered how often someone who needed help wandered in, and judging by their speedy reaction, Kain guessed it was often. “I’m looking for Healer Joanna. Is she here?”

Joanna emerged from the back, having heard her name. “Kain?” she asked, sounding surprised.

“Could we speak?” Kain asked, cautiously.

Joanna looked around at the mages with them, then gestured for him to follow. She led him further into the infirmary, through a long hallway of doors, before stopping at one. She opened the door and gestured, waiting for Kain to go first. He entered, walking into the small room, with only a bed and a wash basin inside. A private room for convalescing, Kain realized. He hoped most were empty.

Joanna followed and closed the door behind her, then turned to face him. She folded her arms over her chest, but instead of looking cross, as she usually did when regarding Kain, she wore a worried expression instead, faintly frowning. “What’s wrong, Kain?” she asked quietly. “Did something happen to Rosa?”

“No,” Kain said quickly, mad at himself for worrying Joanna needlessly. Joanna’s concerned expression was a mirror of Rosa’s, and Kain found himself unnerved by the resemblance. “Rosa is fine. And I...” he hesitated, suddenly unsure if he really wanted to do this. If Rosa were to ever find out, he doubted she’d ever forgive him. He nearly told Joanna, never mind, there was nothing to discuss, but then he remembered Odin’s vision, of he and Cecil standing together, only now Rosa stood behind them, steeped in the blood they both left in their wake. The mental image made him shudder.

More determined now, Kain started again, "I want to keep her safe. I want what’s best for her.”

“So do I,” Joanna agreed cautiously. “What do you have to tell me?”

“The King asked if any white mage tended to Cecil’s injury last night, didn’t he?” Kain asked, gauging her reaction. Her eyes widened just a bit and Kain knew he was right. “Do you know why he wanted to know?”

“Because Cecil’s wound was self-inflicted with dark knight magic and difficult to treat,” Joanna said distantly, not looking at Kain now. “Whoever did so is an accomplished healer.” As she thought about this, Kain watched as she gradually realized, understanding unfolding across her face. “What are you trying to say, Kain?” she asked, her voice cautious but hopeful. “Did Rosa use complex healing magic? Did she Pray?”

We must help her in any way we can, Cecil urged from Kain’s memory. Cecil hadn’t meant like this, Kain knew, but Cecil didn’t understand the risk Rosa posed, not just to herself, but to Kain’s concentration in battle. It would be hard enough with Cecil beside him; his heart could not endure both Rosa and Cecil in potential danger.

No, Rosa would be safer this way, Kain told himself as he said, “Yes. She’s been able to cast since she was a child. Seven or eight, I think. Small spells, at first, but she’s been practicing on her own.”

“Why does she hide it?” Joanna asked; she tried to hide her smile, but it tugged insistently on the corners of her mouth.

“She wants to be an archer,” Kain explained, wondering why Rosa had never told her mother so. He would have told his father everything if Richard still lived. To follow in a parent’s footsteps was another link in the family’s legacy. “But it’s safer and better for her to be off field with the white mages.”

“White mages see combat,” Joanna said, a little prickly.

“True,” Kain admitted, but continued, “...but not as directly. Tell me, where would she be safer?”

“True,” Joanna conceded, nodding as she said it. “Kain,” she said, summoning his attention to her, making direct eye contact with him. Satisfied she has his full attention, Joanna spoke, “Thank you.” She meant it, he realized, sensing sincerity in her green eyes; Rosa must have inherited her blue eye color from Roland, Kain thought absently.

“Will you tell her it was me?” Kain asked, feeling suddenly small, despite being taller than Joanna now.

Joanna considered it for a moment. Kain knew with this, Joanna could have what she wanted: to successfully alienate Rosa from Kain for good. Then, mercifully, Joanna shook her head. “You have done me a favor. I’ll do the same for you.” She paused; her mouth pressed into a thin, serious line. Kain wondered what she was thinking, feeling paralyzed in place by her heavy gaze. Finally, she spoke again, “But only this once. I still don’t want you around my daughter.”

She turned to go, opening the door.

“Joanna,” Kain called out after her, feeling emboldened by using her given name. She hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at him. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Joanna took a deep breath in, to steady herself, then shook her head, “It is a complicated thing and speaking of it will not help. Know only this: your presence pokes at a wound that will never heal. If you have any love for Rosa and want to keep her safe, then you need to leave her alone.”

Kain genuinely thought about it, how things might be different if he did not see Rosa again. But then he imagined Cecil’s face, full of hurt and disappointment that the three of them could not be together as they always have been. He used that excuse as a shield for his selfish heart and its demands to keep Rosa near him.

“I cannot,” Kain spoke and saw the instant dread in Joanna’s eyes. “She mends a wound that will never heal,” Kain said, echoing Joanna’s words back at her.

Joanna said nothing, shutting the door in his face as she left, mirroring Rosa earlier that day.

For the next two days, Rosa was missing from the castle. Kain tried not to fret, but after lessons ended on the second day, Kain found he could wait no longer. Cecil had offered to go with Kain to Rosa’s house, but Kain convinced him to stay, not to exclude Cecil, Kain had reassured him, but because it would be easier to sneak in if Kain went alone.

The real reason, of course, was because he needed to talk to Rosa privately, at least one more time.

Cecil had spotted Joanna in the infirmary about an hour prior, so there was a good chance she would still be there. Hoping this wasn’t his unlucky day, Kain knocked lightly on Rosa’s window. He saw the curtains flutter briefly, before Rosa poked between them to peer out. She disappeared quickly, and for a terrible moment, Kain was worried she would ignore him. But then Kain was relieved to see the window open.

In their brief time apart, Rosa had gotten somehow prettier, Kain’s heart realized with a sick dismay. She wore her hair loose around her shoulders, looking like golden wheat rippling in the afternoon sun. He almost reached up, to run his fingers through it, recalling how soft it always was in his grasp. But just as his fingers flexed in memory, he caught himself, keeping his hands at his sides.

“What do you want, Kain?” Rosa asked, unamused, oblivious to her effect on him.

You, he had the impulse to say, but swallowed down and instead asked, “Where have you been?”

Rosa frowned. “Mother found out about my using white magic.” It was the first time Kain had ever heard Rosa call Joanna anything other than Mama and that monumental change was unsettling. “She found the books in my room. I guess she must have suspected me when no one knew anything about Cecil’s injury.”

“But why are you not at the castle?” Kain asked.

“Because she and the king have commanded me to start training with the white mages, or else.” Rosa leaned back from the window; Kain saw the stubborn set of her jaw. “I told them no.”

“You said no to the king?” Kain asked, incredulously.

Rosa scoffed. “Of course. I told him I would be an archer.” She made defying a king sound easy and Kain was in awe of her backbone. He wondered why he had ever doubted her resolve.

“You’ll be nothing, if he expels you instead,” Kain said, trying for logic. For many of the cadets, returning to civilian life was seen as a failure. He saw Rosa frown again, and continued, “And then you wouldn’t be with us at all. Isn’t it better as a white mage than nothing?”

“Would you even miss me, if I were gone?” Rosa asked instead, her voice small.

“Of course,” Kain sighed as he answered, realizing how messy he had allowed their shared friendships to become. He reached up to the windowsill and took her hand in his. To his surprise, she allowed him. “I miss you already. Can we still be friends, despite what’s happened?” Kain asked, steadfastly ignoring how his heart pounded once their skin touched.

Rosa looked at their entwined hands. “Friends,” she repeated, sounding unsure.

“Come back to the castle,” Kain pleaded. “Cecil will need us together.” When she did not respond, still staring at their joined hands, he continued, “Please? If not for me, then for Cecil?”

Reluctantly, Rosa pulled her hand free from his grip. “For Cecil,” she finally agreed. “He will need us.”

Chapter Text

Once again, life found a comfortable rhythm for Kain. Although awkward at first, Kain and Rosa gradually learned how to be around one another again, without longing looks or sneaking glances. For Cecil, they’d remind one another, when it seemed hardest.  

And Cecil did need them, as he continued his dark knight training. Each morning, he’d wake slowly, drained from the previous day, needing prodding from Kain to ready himself. Gradually, usually after he’d eaten, Cecil would regain his light cheeriness, becoming Cecil of old again, talking excitedly about the day’s events.   

Rosa would join them in the mess hall around mid-morning, now wearing her trainee robes. Cecil always lit up at the sight of her, and Kain always felt a pang of jealousy – for Rosa, for Cecil, he wasn’t even sure anymore. Probably both, he eventually conceded, but was not certain what that meant.  

They’d part, each to their individual lessons. Sometimes, Cecil would be in the training yard, going through weapon exercises as all the other cadets did. Kain was happiest on those days, because while Cecil was here standing in the sunlight, his dark thoughts could not threaten him. This was where he could prove himself with the strength of his arm and willing heart, and not with how deeply he could hate himself.  

Too often, however, Cecil would disappear to the castle’s royal wing. He’d be gone most of the day, returning just before the evening meal. Instead of joining the other cadets in the mess hall, Cecil would drag himself to his room. Kain and Rosa would already be there, waiting for him, Rosa bringing potions and bandages, Kain bringing food.   

Stony-faced, Cecil would say nothing as Rosa tended to him, unwrapping the soiled bandages, cleaning the dried blood from his skin, and sealing his wounds closed. They were never as serious as the wound had been on that first awful night, as Cecil had gotten more precise and accurate with his knife, but they were terrible, nonetheless. Short but deep cuts across his forearm and wrists seemed most effective, Kain had learned, witnessing the results of a novice’s experimentations on Cecil’s skin every night.  

Rosa, with her gentle words and hands, eased something in Cecil. Once she was done healing him, a tight knot of tense control loosened in him, cracking through his shielded exterior. He’d crawl into the bed, lie on his side to face the window, and cry quietly.   

Like lancing a boil, everything bled out of Cecil, and he’d talk on, about how this would all be easier to bear if he weren’t a terrible person; how he was unworthy of their care and friendship; how they should leave him and go.  

But Rosa and Kain wouldn’t leave, one sitting on the edge of the bed, patting Cecil’s back. They traded often as Cecil swung wildly between moods, each offering different words of encouragement, and Cecil desperately needing both.   

Eventually, he would come around, no longer needing to spew his own self-loathing, and they’d eat together, the food set up like a picnic on the floor. In the warmer months, they’d go up to Cecil’s roof, and wait for the sky to turn dark. Under the twin moons, they’d talk on, about old escapades, ongoing challenges, and what their future might hold.  

After Rosa left for the evening, Kain would reluctantly leave Cecil for his own room. But most nights, before it grew too late, Cecil would come knocking at Kain’s door. “Will you sleep in my room?” Cecil would ask, in a role reversal from their youth. Kain always agreed, following Cecil back upstairs, the thought of refusing never crossing his mind.   

Cecil slept on his side, facing the window as was his habit. Kain laid flat on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling, trying to calm the erratic beat of his heart. Kain knew the morning would come too soon, and Cecil would face it all again, to bear new wounds, scarring more flesh, hating himself just a little bit more.  

Kain hated these days.   

Kain loved these days.  

It churned within him, his guilt and his desire, in perpetual war with one another. The two paralyzed him and made him mute, unable to risk his vulnerable heart and say something, while also unable to withdraw entirely and shield himself from the torture of maybe.    

That maybe haunted him, clawing its way across Kain’s psyche, bleeding into strange dreams from which Kain woke hot and breathless, unable to calm the roar of his pulse thudding thunder against his temples. On those mornings, Kain would hop over the still sleeping Cecil to the windowsill and climb up to the roof.  

Only then, in the greedy arms of the winds that blew in from Baron’s coast, could Kain breathe again. The wind funneled away his tumultuous thoughts of both Rosa and Cecil, cooling his feverish blood. It promised tranquility to his conflicted soul, a balm to all his worries. If he could just leave Baron and its conflicts behind, he could find true freedom riding on the currents of the wind. He could be truly unstoppable, answering only to--  

“Kain?” Eventually, Cecil would call up to Kain from the window, beckoning him inside. Without hesitation, Kain dutifully went back.  

As Rosa had warned Kain, nothing stayed the same.   

Eventually, as the months passed and Cecil’s training continued, Cecil adapted to his growing dark knight power, and was better able to control his despondency. He was still withdrawn after lessons, but he bore his burden quietly, no longer collapsing into sobs and needing affirmations.  

Rosa still healed him, however. Cecil had the option to go to the infirmary, but he never asked and neither did Rosa. She always went to his side, without criticism or judgment, and never once begged off from the burden.  

Kain wasn’t sure when, but he began to feel like an outsider. There was an unmistakable intimacy between them: Rosa, touching Cecil’s arm cautiously, not wanting to hurt him more, offering him an encouraging smile; Cecil, watching Rosa with a growing admiration, and Kain suspected it was not just for her impressive magical talent or kind words. And Kain, standing off by himself, watching them both and wanting to be a part of it, but not knowing the right words to ask.  

That’s not to say, however, that Cecil didn’t need Kain anymore – quite the opposite. Cecil would be in a black mood, unrelieved by Rosa’s gentle presence, moping around the castle until Kain finally dragged Cecil to the training yard.  

There, they’d spar. Cecil fought with a rare intensity and a single-mindedness that made him a terrifying opponent. On those days, Kain knew he’d return to the castle sore and stinking in his own sweat from his efforts to keep up. Cecil, for his part, would work himself to near exhaustion, as if each swing of his sword cut down another dark thought, and his shield could keep even his self-doubts at bay.   

Those nights, Kain knew Cecil slept soundly, because he did not come knocking on Kain’s door.  

Rosa and Kain, working separately but in tandem, kept Cecil from tipping over the edge of despair. As for their own friendship, there was a careful truce between them, making sure never to be alone with each other ever again.  

Just in case.  

Years passed this way, in a fragile balance between the three of them.  

The Chief Engineer retired, leaving Cid in the role. Cid promised Cecil that he would build Cecil the greatest ship ever to come out of Baron, the pinnacle of technology and innovation. “My greatest enterprise!” Cid declared with a knowing grin.  

As the oldest of the three, Kain turned eighteen and graduated first. No one was surprised when the Dragoons made their official offer for Kain to join. He was surprised, however, when both the Knights and the Red Wings made offers as well; he wondered if Odin was behind them.  

In a quiet ceremony, Kain was initiated into Baron’s military, in the Dragoon division. He was given his father’s old armor, and the first time he wore it, he reluctantly came out of his room, where both Rosa and Cecil waited. Taller than both, he peered down at them from the guarded eyes of the dragoon helm that covered the top half of his face.  

“What do you think?” Kain asked.  

“Your mouth will give you away,” Cecil said, drawing surprised looks from both Rosa and Kain. Cecil saw their faces (or at least, half of Kain’s) and gave a small laugh. “You smirk when you think you’re winning. It always means you’re about to pull off some elaborate move.”  

“I do not,” Kain scoffed.  

“You also clench your jaw when you’re worried,” Cecil continued, ignoring Kain’s denial. “It means you can be pushed into defense because you’re afraid of losing ground.”  

“Perhaps I should get a new helmet,” Kain remarked dryly.  

“No.” Cecil shook his head. “I quite like this one, actually. It suits you. Besides, how often will you fight someone who knows you as well I do?” Cecil didn’t wait for Kain to answer. “Of course, on the true battlefield, we’ll be on the same side.”  

“Of course,” Kain repeated, not knowing how wrong Cecil would be.  

After Kain reached his majority, the castle steward sat him down and went over the accounts of the Highwind estate in mind-numbingly boring detail. In the steward’s office, Kain was presented with the option to take over running the estate, or to continue letting the crown manage it.  

Not all cadets joined the military upon graduation. Some had other opportunities in the civilian world, apprenticeship offers or family trades. Marion Oakes, one of the cadets in Rosa’s age group, had left to help her father run the family’s Weapon Shop, having learned to care for weapons and armor under Baron’s Quartermaster.  

It was an easy decision for Kain. Like Richard before him, Kain had no interest in the care of the property or its operation, only in his own career and to what heights it might take him. He had no desire for great wealth, only the glory of the Dragoons, and by extension, himself and his father.   

The steward looked briefly disappointed, then nodded his understanding. “Someday soon, you should visit the property.” He paused, busying himself with tidying up the many papers scattered across the desk between them. “Your mother really loved it,” he added, in a quieter voice.  

“My mother?” Kain asked, surprised. His mother was a giant blank space in his life, a phantom limb he didn’t know he was supposed to miss. Richard had always been enough for Kain, and any parental longing he had was reserved strictly for his father, not knowing even how to miss a mother. Sometimes, Kain had a vague sense of it from his early memories of Joanna, but her contempt for him had soured the nostalgia with a bitter taste.   

The steward smiled fondly. “Yes, Mistress Highwind. I helped arrange her trips out to Highwind Manor. It was a special place for her.”  

The idea seemed so alien and off putting to Kain; he shifted uncomfortably in his chair but said nothing.  

“I could set up a trip for you,” the steward offered. “I know the property manager. He’d love to finally meet you, I think.”  

“No, thank you,” Kain said, abruptly standing up. “Continue managing the estate as you have been,” he said quickly, as he backed up to the door. He mumbled an unintelligible ‘thank you’ as he slipped out the door and left.  

Why did the thought of his mother disturb him so, Kain wondered, only knowing that he needed to put distance between him and the conversation. He found his way outside, then easily Jumped up to the castle’s roof. The whistling wind overhead made him feel connected to his father in a way that crowded out all unwanted questions about his mother.   

You will be the best, the wind promised him in a breathy whisper.  

Kain startled, then looked abruptly around, but saw no one. He shook his head, to clear it from the disjointed thoughts that made him think he was hearing voices. It was a trick of the wind, he told himself, and nothing more.  

After joining the Dragoon ranks, Kain became busier than ever. Kain trained rigorously every day, perfecting his Jump technique; he picked a weapon, a lance, and worked exclusively with it. He became a regular rider with the Red Wings ships, often accompanying them on their patrols to keep monsters in the sky at bay.  

Kain had less time for Cecil and Rosa, but still tried to see them. He’d catch up to them, on the tail end of their morning meal, long enough to give them a quick greeting before both had to leave for their lessons. Sometimes in the evening, he’d find them walking together out of the castle, and learned it had become routine for Cecil to walk Rosa home. Rosa still attended to Cecil’s self-inflicted wounds, but Kain would often hear descending steps on the tower stairs much later in the evening than when Rosa usually left.  

Kain puzzled over what this might mean, genuinely not knowing, until he caught Rosa smiling at Cecil. It was the same secret smile that had only ever been Kain’s alone, and it gutted him to see it again.   

That night, he followed Rosa and Cecil into town, on their daily walk together. From the high vantage point of the Inn’s roof, Kain watched as Rosa lingered on her doorstep, still talking with Cecil. Their goodbye lasted an eternity, until finally, perhaps reluctantly, Rosa went inside, with one last lingering look as she paused in the door’s frame. Cecil said something that made her laugh, then she closed the door.  

Kain watched Cecil take a dozen steps away from Rosa’s house, hesitate, turn back, then hesitate again. Cecil stood there, unsure, until he finally decided to turn away and leave. Kain waited for Cecil to disappear around the road’s bend, then dropped easily to roof of Rosa’s house. Crouching low, Kain stepped slowly as he moved across the slanted roof, making his way to the other side of the house where Rosa’s room was.  

Once there, Kain jumped down, clearing the short distance to the ground easily. He was about to knock on Rosa’s window, when it opened, and Rosa peered out.   

“What are you doing?” she asked, clearly annoyed. “I can hear you stomping about on the roof. You’re lucky my mother’s not home.”  

“What’s going on with you and Cecil?” Kain asked instead of answering.   

This made Rosa pause, before she asked quietly, “Are you following us?”  

Kain looked aside, suddenly embarrassed. He hadn’t thought this through, only acting on selfish impulse.   

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Rosa said, sounding close to sulking. “Soon he’ll enlist and you two will be together again and inseparable, while I get left behind. It will be as you want it.”  

“That’s not what I want,” Kain protested. “I want you with us too.”  

“On the field?” Rosa asked, arching one brow. Kain immediately shook his head and Rosa sighed. “Enjoy your year with him while you have it. Because white mage or no, I’m not staying behind.”  

It sounded like a warning; Kain should have listened.   

When Cecil graduated, there was less certainty about where he would go, as he had offers from most of the divisions. The Knights and Red Wings made sense, even Engineering given how much time Cecil spent in Cid’s workshop. The most surprising of all, however, was the offer from the White Mages.  

“Mother says he has potential for some white magic,” Rosa explained when both Cecil and Kain had expressed their shock. “Perhaps not a lot, but enough to qualify him. He would have to stop his dark knight training, of course.”  

In the end, Cecil chose the Red Wings – and this was truly his own choice.   

“The king is allowing me to pick,” Cecil told Kain and Rosa, breathlessly excited. “As long as I continue training as a dark knight, I can also hold rank in any division I want.” Cecil closed his eyes and Kain knew Cecil imagined the sky, endlessly blue and wide, freedom stretching on in every direction. “I’m going to be a pilot,” Cecil declared as he opened his eyes, and did not stop smiling for the rest of the day.   

Rosa was right, again, about them being together. Despite being in different divisions, there was much overlap between the Dragoons and the Red Wings, and Kain found himself working often with Cecil.   

During this year, Albert started to lean more on Kain for the daily running of the Dragoons. Kain helped maintain the roster, gave out assignments and collected reports from those returning from missions. Albert was not shy in his intention to groom Kain for command.  

“It will be yours,” Albert told Kain. “Nothing can stop you, if this is what you really want.”  

Nothing could stop Cecil, either, as he blew through his pilot’s training, easily passing each skill check. He became the youngest pilot at nineteen, and as Rosa approached her eighteenth birthday and graduation, it was rumored that Cecil would soon get his first ship assignment.  

Mages were precious in Baron, where physical and technological prowess were favored. Most of Baron’s working mages were transplants from Mysidia, on loan in a treaty between them. The mages worked in month long shifts, staying on Baron’s side, in service to its military, then crossing the Devil’s Road for their two-week liberty.   

Given their rarity, both black mage and white mage troops were jealously guarded in combat, often given their own special guards to escort them safely through the battlefield. Their safety was a top priority for all other divisions.   

Any native Baron with an ounce of magical talent was aggressively recruited and often rose rapidly through the ranks, overseeing the work of the Mysidian mages. Discovering a child with an aptitude for magic was cause for a family to celebrate, as it nearly guaranteed a grand military career.  

As Baron’s nobility often sent their children to enroll as cadets, there could be a large degree of politics involved in what a newly graduated recruit was offered at their enlistment. While Cecil and Kain had multiple offers from various divisions, Rosa only had one: the White Mages. When a talented cadet showed enough magical aptitude, it was customary for other divisions to back off their own pursuit.  

“This is Mother and the king’s doing,” Rosa declared with a huff. “They made sure I wouldn’t have a choice.”  

“Or...” Cecil interjected, “... you are incredibly talented, and this is the best place for you.” He touched his forearm out of reflex. “I’ve had other healings, you know. Your Cure spell is by far the most powerful.”  

“Is it?” Rosa asked, sounding skeptical.   

“The most effective, too,” Cecil continued, trying to be encouraging. “Other white mages need three or four attempts. Dark Knight wounds are... difficult.”  

“Hm,” Rosa made a thoughtful noise in her throat, but did not say more about it.   

“What do you think?” Cecil asked, sounding uncertain. The three of them together in Cecil’s room, with Rosa and Kain flanking either side of Cecil. In front of them stood a new addition to the room: an armor rack. On display was a set of armor, without a scratch or scuff on it. It matched the illustrations in Cecil’s dark knight tome with its wicked spikes and black metal, somehow dark and yet greedily glittering in the flickering light of a nearby lamp.  

Kain and Rosa said nothing, only looking on in stunned silence.  

“Well?” Cecil prompted. “The king had it custom made.” He touched a loving hand to the helmet, where small horns protruded from the top of the skull. “He told me he was proud of me,” Cecil said in a suddenly vulnerable voice, looking side to side at each of them.  

“You will be terrifying on the battlefield,” Kain finally remarked. Truthfully, he hated the armor, how dark it was, and how much it would smother Cecil’s light. But Kain saw Cecil’s desperate need for validation and could not deny him. “With any luck, your enemies will flee at the sight of you, and you won’t have to fight at all,” Kain said, trying for humor instead.   

Cecil laughed, and it seemed to break the tension in the room.   

“Besides,” Rosa said with a knowing smile. “You will have our support.”  

Cecil’s first assignment as a pilot was the Bloodletter, a boat that had been recently upgraded after its captain retired. A newly promoted captain was putting together a fresh crew for its reentry back into service, including Cecil.  

Kain got himself on board easily enough, merely by asking Albert. The Commander had an obvious soft spot for Kain, letting Kain take on any challenge he thought he could handle.   

Cecil’s maiden mission was easy enough: a simple patrol overseas to Mysidia, making a pass over Mount Ordeals, to ensure the skies were clear of monsters. There’d been a spike in religious services in Baron in recent years, with some braving the Devil’s Road to make the journey to Mount Ordeals, offering their devout prayers to a small shrine at the base of the mountain. It was important to protect the Baron pilgrims in their quest for absolution.   

The night before Kain and Cecil’s mission, they joined Rosa at the Inn to have a drink together.   

“To your first big mission,” Rosa declared as they clinked their mugs together.  

“And to your first assignment,” Kain offered, still holding his mug up, and gestured toward Rosa. “Good luck tomorrow, whatever they have you doing.”  

Cecil took a long sip, then set his drink back down. “Too bad you can’t see us off,” he lamented.  

“I’ll try,” Rosa offered. “It depends on what they have me doing.” She smiled suddenly then, as if she could not help herself. “Perhaps I’ll surprise you.”  

The first time Cecil walked through the castle in his dark knight armor, all he passed stopped in their tracks, mute and still until he was well out of sight. Cecil was silent the entire time, and that somehow made his black armor more terrifying.  

This is what Odin wants, Kain reminded himself as he trailed in Cecil’s wordless wake. Then, correcting himself: This is what Cecil wants.  

Cecil left Kain alone on the deck of the Bloodletter, as Cecil and the rest of the Red Wings crew prepared the ship. Kain stood at the railing, watching the commotion in the airship bay as other crews readied their own ships for takeoff.   

In the blur of red uniforms, a white robed figure stood out. As it drew closer, Kain recognized Rosa’s golden hair, her hood pushed back from her head. She wore new robes indicating her status as a white mage; they were white, the sleeves, hood and hem lined with wide red triangles.   

Delighted that Rosa had been able to come to see them off, Kain waved, expecting her to stop and wave back, then watch them depart. Instead, she kept approaching, all the way to the gangway. She paused, to talk to the Red Wings soldier standing guard there. After a brief back and forth, the soldier stepped aside, allowing Rosa through.  

With a satisfied grin to herself, Rosa picked up the hem of her robes and walked down the gangway, onto the ship.  

“What are you doing?” Kain asked as he approached her, confused.  

Rosa never stopped grinning. “Your dark knight needs a white mage assigned to him. Who better?”  

“No,” Kain said, shaking his head. “You’re too new for this kind of assignment.”  

“I’m the most experienced,” Rosa said flatly, the humor and self-satisfaction gone. “I told the king as much, and he agreed. If I am to be a white mage, then I will be the best white mage there can be.”  

A routine mission, Kain reassured himself, trying to calm the surge of anxiety in him. They would all be fine.   

The ship lurched suddenly upward. Kain turned to see Cecil at the helm, his smile wide and growing as he angled the wheel.    

What could go wrong? the wind seemed to ask with a mocking laugh.   

Chapter Text

 After his shift had ended, Cecil, to Kain’s dismay, was thrilled to see Rosa aboard. Cecil embraced her with a fierce fondness that Kain hadn’t seen before, the hug lingering on longer than Kain expected.

“How?” Cecil asked, as he reluctantly released Rosa. “How are you here?” He had spent the last few hours flying, guiding the airship through the windy skies, his silver hair now wild and unkempt around his shoulders. Cecil looked lit from within, as if his time at the helm had finally healed some long bleeding wound.

“You need a white mage,” Rosa said, as if it were obvious. “Who else? I volunteered and King Odin agreed I was most qualified.” She cast a sharp look at Kain, daring him to contradict her and throw a shadow over Cecil’s joy. Kain said nothing, only looked aside and that seemed to satisfy her. “And now we’re finally together.”

“We are together!” Cecil beamed as he repeated it and the knot of anxiety finally loosened in Kain. He desperately wanted to believe in Cecil’s returning optimism, in the lightness of soul Cecil had on brilliant display again. Kain needed Cecil to stay like this, happy and standing in the light, and away from the shadows that always threatened to consume him.

Maybe, Kain thought, this would be the beginning of a great saga, the three of them, unstoppable and elite. He and Rosa, on either side of the future King of Baron, using their skills to further advance not only the glory of their own divisions but of Baron itself.

“Together,” Kain repeated, finally allowing himself to smile.

They traveled overseas, southeast toward Mysidia.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before,” Rosa remarked as she leaned against the ship’s railing, peering out toward the western sky behind them. The setting sun painted the sky in a range of reds, pinks, and oranges, the ocean below reflecting the color back in glittering rays across the surface.

“Me neither,” Cecil said with a sigh, and Kain saw that Cecil did not watch the sky, as Rosa did, but was instead looking at her. The fading light made her hair and eyes look dark and dramatic, and Kain found he also could not look away. A passing cloud overhead caught her in its shadow and the effect made her oddly familiar, but he could not place who she reminded him of.

Kain shrugged aside the thought, finding it uncomfortable but unsure as to why.

Later, after the world went fully dark, Cecil went to the helm for his shift, while Rosa and Kain went below deck, into the crews’ quarters to rest. Kain shifted restlessly in his bunk, unable to find any peace.

Eventually, he climbed out and made his way back up to the deck, trying his best to step soundlessly and not wake the other sleeping crew – especially Rosa. Once on the deck, Kain was grateful for the fresh ocean air in his lungs, tasting sharply of salt.

Kain found Cecil at the helm, looking perfectly at home holding the ship’s wheel. Overhead, the twin moons lit the dark sky and ocean, highlighting Cecil’s skin and hair, making him look otherworldly. Kain recalled how strange Cecil seemed when they first met, how off-putting and weird he had been. Now, though Cecil was still strange at times, Kain found that he liked that best of all – it made Cecil who he was, and why he couldn’t ever be anyone else.

As Kain approached, Cecil smiled, putting the moons overhead to shame.

He is happy, Kain thought. Out here, under the open sky, with his two friends beside him. This is what would make Cecil happy, and Kain could be content in his heart with that alone. He thought of Rosa and felt less sure, but surely that would resolve soon, as Rosa found her passion in service. They could hold on to how things were now and keep that always.

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” Cecil said with soft sigh. “Everything is perfect. I’m finally flying on my own. You and Rosa are with me again and we’re on the brink of our next adventure.”

“Hopefully not too much adventure,” Kain remarked, his deep voice neutral. “Maybe a monster here and there so I can show you up in front of your own crew.” And Rosa, he thought, and was hit with pang of guilt for even thinking it.

“I dare you,” Cecil replied, always more serious about their rivalry than he liked to admit.

“Have your sword on hand and we’ll see what happens,” Kain said, leaning into the perpetual desire Cecil had to prove himself. Kain found he was unable to leave it alone and wanted to see more of it. “Unless you’re afraid,” he added, carefully watching Cecil for a reaction.

“Rosa won’t be impressed if we turn tomorrow into a contest,” Cecil said, not rising to the bait, immediately deflating the tension of their back and forth.

“No,” Kain agreed easily, trying to hide his disappointment. “She wouldn’t be.”

“What... what do you think would?” Cecil asked, unsure. “Impress Rosa, I mean?”

“She’s not one to impress,” Kain replied, speaking without thinking about it. “Rosa’s never impressed because she expects you to be your best by default. She...” and he became suddenly self-conscious. But Cecil was casting him a desperate look from the side, and Kain could not ignore it. “Rosa wants to be inspired. Show her the best you can be, and she’ll strive to match or beat you.”

“You know her so well,” Cecil said quietly, and Kain wondered if he heard jealousy in Cecil’s voice, or if he only wanted to. “Do you think that’s why she came?” Cecil asked, his voice small. “To match me?”

And me, Kain thought, seized with his old possessiveness. “Is there something going on between you two?” Kain asked, then closed his eyes, not sure if he could bear the answer.

“I don’t know,” Cecil admitted. “Sometimes, I think there might be. She looks at me like there’s no one else in the world. And I feel...” he hesitated, grappling for the right words. “I feel something. Like finally seeing the dawn after the darkest night.”

This is what heartbreak feels like, Kain thought as new raw pain tore through him. Was this finally it, when he’d lose Cecil and Rosa to the other, once they decided they liked being just two instead of three? And Kain was helping it along? Kain reluctantly opened his eyes.

But Cecil was oblivious to Kain’s distress, still distracted with maintaining his watch and holding the wheel steady. “What should I do?”

Kain was silent for a long moment, then quietly asked, “Does she really make you feel that way?”

“Yes,” Cecil said with a happy exhale, breaking Kain’s heart again.

And he had been seeing it, Kain realized, and mistaking it only for Cecil’s passion for becoming a pilot. But it had been more than that, hadn’t it? Rosa brought out the light in Cecil in a way Kain never could, her very presence soothing the tension in his troubled soul. How could Kain deny Cecil this, or anything? Was he so possessive and jealous that he wanted them apart if it meant them loving him more than they loved each other?

“Rosa wants to matter,” Kain finally said. “To make a positive difference in the people around her. If she truly makes you feel like a better version of yourself, show her that. Show her how much she makes you a better man.”

It’s what I couldn’t do, Kain thought.

Cecil considered this for a long moment, letting the roar of the engines and howling winds fill the air between them. “This would change things,” Cecil finally said, not looking aside to Kain, only staring straight out ahead. “Would you... be okay with that?”

Would he? Kain so desperately wanted things to stay exactly as they were. But how could he ask his two best friends to put their feelings aside just because he couldn’t puzzle out his own? Could he tell Rosa, no, he couldn’t be with her, and then deny her something with someone else? Was that fair, even if his greedy impulses demanded otherwise?

“If it brings you both happiness...” Kain started but the words became strangled in his throat.

“Kain...” Cecil cast a quick glance toward Kain, before looking back ahead. His grip on the wheel tightened, as if he was determined to stay focused. “I’m sorry, I just...” he hesitated. “If it bothers you at all, I won’t do anything.”

“Do as your heart commands,” Kain said, his words tight through his clenched jaw. “I am tired,” he added, without pausing. “I should go.”

“Kain!” Cecil called out at Kain’s back as he retreated, but Kain did not stop.

Back below deck, Kain crawled back into his bunk to stare at the darkness around him, wondering if things could get any worse.

After reaching land and passing over Mysidia, their flight slowed considerably, mindful of potential monster encounters. The Zus could be aggressively territorial but mostly kept to the forest that surrounded Mount Ordeals. Cockatrices, too, tended to travel in small packs of three to four, attacking in formation against the perceived threat of the airship.

The Red Wings crew had their cannons set up on either side of the ship, poised to take quick aim at any potential targets. Kain stood at the railing, his lance drawn. If any monster got too close to the ship, Kain would Jump, easily gliding through the wind currents, striking at the creature’s wings, or eyes, effectively disarming it. As the monster lost control of its own flight, falling gracelessly through the sky, Kain would Jump away, riding the currents back to the ship.

Cecil, not currently on shift at the helm, had come to watch, fully outfitted in his armor and his sword sheathed at his hip, as Kain had hoped.

Kain had never seen Cecil’s dark knight magic in action, always veiled by the privacy of Cecil’s isolated training. When they sparred, it was hand to hand combat only, without outside magics, only testing their steel and muscle. Kain, despite his distaste for the magic, found himself endlessly curious to finally witness it and he could not leave the thought alone. However, none of their missions had required Cecil to flex his full power, and if all went well, this mission would be the same.

Each time Kain Jumped back to the ship, landing on the deck with a dull thud, he saw Cecil watching, hand poised at his sword’s hilt, itching to prove himself but not having the opportunity. Did Cecil want to show off as badly as Kain wanted to watch it? Kain could not tell.

Eventually, they approached Mount Ordeals, floating high above its summit. At some point, Rosa came out to the deck, and peered at the mountain below them. She had been to Mount Ordeals recently, in the last days of her cadet training. White mages from both Mysidia and Baron eventually came to the base of Mount Ordeals, to learn how to employ their magic offensively against the undead.

Baron white mages, despite the nature of their magic, did not hesitate to use their power in whatever way they could. Rosa was no exception, returning from Mount Ordeals a little bit tougher than before, with a new determination in her eyes. Kain wondered what she saw there but did not dare ask.

Now, she peered over the side of the ship at the distant mountain, and for a brief second, Kain thought she looked scared. But she shook her head, and the expression was gone. As she straightened from the railing, Kain spotted the quiver and bow at her back.

“Come to slay monsters?” Kain asked Rosa. “Hate to disappoint you, but it’s been quiet.”

“For the best,” Cecil said, deliberately not looking at Rosa. “There will be plenty of exciting missions, in time.”

Around them, all was calm. The buzzing roar of the engines had become a comfortable background hum, along with the whistling winds around them. As the three of them stood together, peering down at Mount Ordeals, Kain absently wondered if things would ever be this peaceful again.

A shrill cry pierced through the calm, loud and terrible. As Kain turned around to identify the sound, his world tilted suddenly, his legs thrown out from beneath him. As he scrambled to find his balance, he realized the whole ship was shaking back and forth, threatening to tip over and spill soldiers off its deck.

Chaos exploded around them as the crew shouted to each other and the ship violently rocked. As Kain tried to get his bearings, to look up and see what was shaking the ship, an inhuman scream filled his ears, drowning out all thought.

Cecil shouted something, then took off in a run to the other side of the ship. Kain started to follow, but paused, offering Rosa a hand to steady her on the uncertain, moving deck. She took it with a grateful look, and hand in hand, they followed Cecil together.

It was on the other side that they could see the Zu bearing down on the ship, its wicked talons digging splintered grooves into the wooden deck. It lifted its head and gave voice to its terrible scream once more. Up close, the monster was massive, made all the larger as it spread its wings wide, nearly spanning the width of the ship itself. The black wings seemed to fill the sky, nearly blocking out the sun. Each flap of its wings sent staggering blasts of air against the crew who tried to fight it.

Kain watched as the crew tried to turn the cannons inward, but the Zu was too close to effectively aim at. Cecil tugged his sword free from its sheath, the black blade lost in the Zu’s dark shadow. Kain glanced back at Rosa, who nodded back to him, disentangling her hand from his. Kain crouched low, flexed his knees, then took off into the sky.

From up high, Kain saw them as small figures in a puppet show, playing out their parts as Kain watched. Rosa found cover behind the ship’s center mast, drawing an arrow through her bow. Cecil, armed with his sword and shield, ran to confront the Zu. It greeted him with a swipe of its claws that Cecil met with his shield.

Kain angled himself, aiming his lance downward, then let himself fall. He plummeted through the air, encouraged by the air currents he passed and used to push off from to propel himself even faster. With the force of his whole body behind it, he drove the tip of his lance deep into the Zu as he landed on its shoulder, in the middle of its immense wingspread. Kain felt the fibers of the large muscles part before the sharp blade of the lance. Still in his landing crouch, he shoved the lance in deeper, the jerking motion sending a spray of sticky dark blood across the ship’s deck.

The Zu screamed as Kain landed, then screamed again as he yanked his lance free. It bucked wildly, trying to throw Kain off, its panicked wing flaps set the ship rocking wildly in its turbulent wake. Kain saw Cecil scramble to hold something, while Rosa stood on braced legs, her bowstring drawn tight as she aimed upward.

Rosa’s arrow flew obediently, despite the wild winds and ongoing chaos around them. As the arrow struck the Zu’s eye, it let out a mournful cry, a high, screeching sound of protest. With another flap of its wings, it flew back, away from the ship, disengaging its claws from the deck.

Kain ran across the Zu’s back, prepping himself for another Jump, to leap the distance from the Zu to the ship. But he stopped short as he saw Cecil run to the ship’s side, his black blade drawn and pointing at both the Zu and Kain. Even at this distance, Kain could sense the wrongness of Cecil’s stance and how wicked the blade looked in the dark.

Kain watched, dumbfounded, as an inky shadow bled out from Cecil’s sword and crawled across the sky toward them. The same wrongness seized Kain, grabbing him by the throat and squeezing tight, making breathing impossible. Drowning in the darkness that was strangely familiar, his vision narrowed, and Kain distantly wondered if Cecil would secretly delight in finally being better.

Hush, my love, crooned the darkness, enveloping and inviting, beckoning him to an old memory of warm comfort and absolute security. You must sleep now…

Please, please, Kain pleaded, panic coloring his desperate thoughts. Mama, don’t hurt me…

The darkness abruptly released him, and Kain could breathe again, sucking in greedy lungfuls of air. Blood dribbled from his nose, down his mouth and chin, and the coppery smell overwhelmed his senses. Below him, the Zu was given no such mercy, twitching as it suffocated in Cecil’s Darkness. It suddenly dropped altitude, its wing flap slowing down. The unexpected drop woke Kain up, becoming aware of himself again.

Kain ran, swinging arms wildly as he jumped, launching himself from the Zu toward the ship. He hit the deck hard, rolling as he landed.

The Zu struggled through its wing flaps, dropping lower with each. It swung out its claws, in a desperate bid for purchase against the ship’s red hull. Its talons sunk into the wood, and the Zu hung on by its claws, its body dangling, rocking the ship violently, tearing up wood its frantic efforts. Somewhere in the chaos, Kain thought he heard a woman’s scream.

With one last shriek, blood spewed from the Zu’s beak, and it lost its grip on the ship’s hull. It flapped once, then twice, then dropped away, falling freely through the sky, unable to stop or slow itself.

The ship still rocked uncertainty, however, and was starting to drop altitude. Kain leaned over the railing and saw the ship’s punctured side, torn up by the Zu’s claws.

“Kain!” Cecil shouted, drawing Kain’s attention back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--” The ship lurched beneath them, sending them stumbling together. Cecil held on to Kain, then straightened. “I’ll apologize later. I need to get to the helm.” He paused, then looked around. “Where’s Rosa?” he asked, with a hint of rising panic.

“Kain!” Rosa’s cry seemed impossibly far away. Kain and Cecil exchanged a horrified look, then ran to the opposite side of the ship. They looked over the railing to see Rosa dangling by a broken wooden plank, ripped loose from the red hull by the Zu’s claws. Rosa held on to it with desperate fingers, her legs swinging freely beneath her. The wind tugged greedily at her white robes, threatening to drag her away forever.

“Go get her!” Cecil demanded, pushing Kain toward the railing. “Jump over and pull her back up!”

Kain hopped up on the railing, balancing himself carefully as he tried to see how he could get down to Rosa. He hesitated a second, then the broken plank shifted, inspiring a shriek from Rosa as she swung further down. Like climbing the castle walls, Kain reassured himself, before scrambling down the ship’s side. He inched closer to her, making painfully slow progress.

“I’m slipping!” Rosa warned, her voice going high with terror.

“Grab her and Jump!” Cecil yelled, leaning far over the railing, his face white with fear. It was an eerie mirror of the day Cecil had almost fallen from the castle tower, only now he looked down instead of up, his eyes begging Kain to let go instead. “Get to the ground and I’ll find you both!”

“Don’t you dare!” Rosa protested, grunting as she tried to pull herself up.

“Can you do this?” Cecil asked; the wind threw his hair around wildly, but his eyes remained intensely on Kain, as if his whole world hinged on Kain’s answer. The ship shuddered again, lurching awkwardly forward. Someone in the distance shouted Cecil’s name. “Kain, can you do this!?” Cecil demanded.

Kain thought of Albert’s long-ago warning, that he may one day have to pick between Rosa and Cecil. Kain could take Rosa and Jump to the mountain below, leaving Cecil behind on a crashing airship. Or, he could let Rosa go, take Cecil and Jump to safety instead, ensuring that at least Cecil – the future King of Baron -- survived above all others. How could Kain explain that he was only doing what Cecil wanted, because he could not bear to tell Cecil no.

“Grab on to me!” Kain yelled down to Rosa in warning as he scrambled further down the ship’s hull, using the broken planks sticking out as handholds.

“Don’t Jump!” Rosa yelled back, but she reached for him as he got closer. He stretched his hand down to her, fingers straining. Just as her fingers swiped his, the ship lurched again, throwing Rosa’s dangling body wildly back and forth. The plank she held on to splintered with a final crack and broke away. Rosa fell, still reaching toward him, the shape of terror on her open mouth as she wordlessly screamed into the tumultuous wind.

Kain pushed off from the hull, propelling himself downward, slicing efficiently through the air to catch up to Rosa. She was flailing as she fell, her robes whipping around her, catching the wind and slowing her down. He caught up to her quickly, grabbing her and pulling her to him. Rosa clutched at him with her arms around his neck.

“I’ve got you!” Kain shouted into the wind, not knowing if Rosa heard him, but she held onto him tighter anyway.

Compensating for Rosa’s extra weight was difficult, and Kain found the wind currents harder to find and navigate, tumbling awkwardly in and out of them. Still, he slowed their descent, but wasn’t sure it would be enough as the earth below them approached too rapidly.

As his boots struck the ground, Kain felt something shatter in his shins. The pain rattled through his bones, made him shudder with an unexpected shriek. He dropped his grip on Rosa, sending her tumbling to the ground, then fell, collapsing in on the intense pain in his legs.

Rosa rolled to a stop, then promptly got to her feet, unharmed by the fall. She had her bow in hand, an arrow nocked and ready as she looked around. Her readiness seemed intense as she ignored his obvious distress.

“Rosa,” Kain called out to her, but Rosa whirled around on him, pressing her fingers to her lips to silence him.

Nearby, an otherworldly moan sounded, followed by the slow awkward, shuffle of feet on the ground. Rosa muttered something below her breath, then took up a defensive stance in front of Kain, her arrow drawn.

“Be still,” she whispered, “and try to stay conscious.”

But the pain in Kain’s legs was too demanding and insistent, overwhelming his senses entirely. As he collapsed to the ground, his vision grew dim, his awareness shrinking in view. He looked up in time to see Rosa fire her arrow, its tip exploding into flames as it launched. For one perfect instant, the halo of fire framed her, highlighting her hair, making her look like a Warrior of Light, the famed heroes from their story books.

Rosa, always looking out for him, always taking care of him, always helping him win. How could he not lose his heart to her? How could he ever think otherwise?

With the taste of blood in his mouth, the darkness closed in on Kain. His last conscious thought was the desperate hope that the shadows now surrounding Rosa were only his imagination.

Chapter Text

Kain faded in and out of awareness. The first time he woke up, he saw Rosa standing against the backdrop of a burning tree, its flaming branches reaching up into the darkening sky. Rosa had her bow drawn, aiming somewhere beyond the raging flames. She shouted, but her words were lost to the roaring fire, then she released her arrow, the burning point streaking away from her, dazzling him in its wake.

Kain tried to sit up, pushing himself up off the ground, but a dizzying pain rushed through him, tearing away his tenuous hold on consciousness.

He woke next to bright light against his eyelids, uncomfortable and demanding. When he tried opening them, he could only see Rosa’s faint outline, the whole of her drowning in light. “Close your eyes,” she whispered, invoking the long-ago memory of when she first said to him and how perfect that moment had been.

Kain promptly obeyed and felt a wave of relief wash over him as Rosa cast her Cure spell. The ache in his legs deepened as the bones shifted back together, then lessened as his body began knitting itself back together.

Rosa leaned down, her lips brushing against his forehead. “Sleep,” she murmured, her mouth moving with the shape of the word, searing the command against his skin. Kain fell easily into her suggestion. He absently wondered how she knew a black magic spell, not realizing it had been her words alone that exercised such power over him.

Much later, he woke again, eyes opening to the darkness of night. Overhead, the stars punctured the black fabric of the sky with their brilliant points of light. Kain’s vision was blurry, the light from the stars bleeding together, streaming white tails across the sky. The effect made him dizzy, like the world shifted around him.

No, Kain realized, as the world lurched forward once more, he was moving. He was being dragged along the ground on a blanket – no, a cloak, no -- Kain peered closer and saw red triangles standing out in stark relief on the white fabric – it was Rosa’s white mage robes, he realized. The fabric was stretched tight, tied between two thick tree branches, in a makeshift stretcher.

As he became aware of the movement, he also became aware of his body, and his legs throbbed in wild pain. Kain tried to shift, to sit up, but exhaustion seized his limbs, making them heavy and ungainly; Kain groaned with the effort.

“Be still and quiet.” Kain heard Rosa’s voice nearby, low in a hushed command. “We’re almost to safety, but I need your silence and cooperation.” He followed the sound of her voice over his shoulder and saw her ahead of him, crouching low, holding both branches like poles, using it to drag Kain, still armored, along the ground.

Kain opened his mouth to protest but was stopped when a low moan sounded close by. Rosa froze, no longer pulling Kain along, but watching their surroundings for any hint of movement. After a paralyzing few seconds of silence, they heard a second moan, this time further away.

Rosa gave a relieved exhale, then picked up the poles and began dragging Kain along again. Kain could do nothing but watch the shadows behind them and hope the moving ones would stay uninterested.

They came to a bridge, which swung uncertainly back and forth as Rosa dragged Kain across. The creaking planks sounded eerie in the nighttime silence. On the other side of the bridge was an isolated island, the ground inscribed with a safety rune. As they crossed into the humming magic of the ward, Rosa cried out in exhausted relief.

But there was no time for rest yet, as Rosa pulled Kain to the middle of the ward, then lowered the poles to the ground and untied them from the robes. She stood behind him, linking an arm under both of his shoulders, and pulled him up to sit. Without thinking, Kain shifted his legs, then yelped in surprise at the red wave of pain that washed over him.

“You’re okay,” Rosa murmured, in that same soothing tone she always used for Cecil. “Your body is healing, but it remembers the trauma.” She still held on to him, holding him up by the shoulders, her arms circling around his armored chest to hold him in place. “Can you sit on your own? Or do you need to lie down?”

“I can sit,” Kain said tightly through clenched teeth. Rosa released him, then fell in a heap beside him. She rolled to her back, staring up at the sky, just breathing in and out slowly. She closed her eyes, and a few tears trickled through her closed lashes.

Kain didn’t want to say anything, saw the exhaustion plain on her face, wanting to grant her a few minutes of peace. But as the pain rolled through him, making his lower legs throb with an intensity that nearly made him swoon again, Kain let out an involuntary groan and clutched at his legs.

“You broke both of your legs in the fall,” Rosa said matter-of-factly as she got back up, then crouched beside him, her weariness compartmentalized once she heard him in pain. She lifted his helmet from his head and set it aside. “I’ve mended the bones, but your body will need time to recover – did something happen to you before the Jump? I tried to wake you but could not; you were too deeply hurt.”

“Yes,” Kain answered through clenched teeth, rubbing his hand across his face; dried brown flakes came away in his palm.

Rosa leaned in closer, looking puzzled. She touched Kain tentatively, as if she feared injuring him further, one hand on his chin, tipping his face up, the other on his shoulder, holding him in place. “What happened?” she asked softly, her eyes searching his face for some sign of wound or injury.

“Cecil… he…” Kain tried to answer, finding himself suddenly swallowed up by an unexpected panic, unable to inhale to form words. But Rosa steadied him, holding him balanced with just her fingertips. She took a deliberate breath in through her nose, then released it slowly out of her mouth; Kain found himself imitating her unconsciously just by watching. Kain followed the pattern of her slow inhales and exhales, and soon the tight knot of anxiety in him loosened. “I got caught in his Darkness spell,” Kain was finally able to say; it did not occur to him how he had shifted the blame from Cecil to himself.

“Oh.” Rosa tried to hide her surprise, but Kain saw her eyes widen. She looked him over again with this new knowledge. “Let me try Cure again,” she said as she withdrew from him.

She moved around him, loosening the straps from his chest piece. He recognized the expertise in her hands as she thoughtfully removed each piece of armor, carefully coordinating her movements to jostle Kain as little as possible. He wondered if there were many injured soldiers Rosa treated in such a way, or if her gentle kindness was reserved for Kain and Cecil alone.

Kain said nothing, staring ahead, as she finished unarmoring him. His pain gradually dulled as she cast her Cure spell over him, and the relief at the fading discomfort nearly made him weep with gratitude.

The magic around Rosa finally dissipated, along with its illuminating light. Now, they sat in the blue glow of the safety ward, its odd light casting strange shadows across Rosa’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Rosa said quietly, keeping a fearful eye on the bridge that separated their safe island from the rest of the mountain. “I could not stop to fully assess you or let you rest. I had to get you to safety, first.”

Kain wondered how much time had passed since their landing on the mountain, remembering it had been early evening and now the day had turned to deep night. For how many hours did Rosa hold off the hungry undead, while pulling Kain along? The thought caused a curious stir in his heart, but then he remembered --

“Did you see the ship? Did it crash?” Kain asked, trying to clear his head.

“I could not see it directly,” Rosa told him. “But I saw a smoke trail in the sky. I think the ship crashed, but I cannot say how badly.” She closed her eyes, and when she spoke again her voice was full of hurt, “You should have taken Cecil instead.”

Her words cut through Kain because he both did and did not agree with her. “Perhaps,” he admitted quietly. “But it is done.”

“Rest,” Rosa said, sounding suddenly tired again, as if she remembered her exhaustion. “We both need to recover. We can better assess our position in the morning light.”

Kain’s eyes felt immediately heavy and he struggled to keep them open. He laid back, his legs still feeling too tired and worn to shift around. He heard Rosa moving around him, heard the soft scuff of her feet on the ground as she paced the length of the safety ward, heard the clink of glass as she laid out potions, taking inventory, and her concerned sigh at the too few supplies. Eventually, exhaustion won out and he nodded off.

The cold ground leeched any warmth from Kain, and despite Rosa’s robes on the ground beneath him, he found that the discomfort needled him too much for deep sleep. He shifted uncomfortably, drifting in and out of fitful sleep.

Kain became aware of Rosa next to him almost as soon as she laid down, the warmth against his side welcome and needed. He shifted his arm, winding it around her, and she responded by moving in closer.

“Sleep,” Rosa insisted, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. “We’ll need our strength tomorrow to find a way off the mountain.”

“Do you think Cecil...” Kain started, then hesitated, unsure if he dared even ask.

“Do I think Cecil survived?” Rosa prompted, bravely voicing the monumental worry that hung over them both when Kain could not. “I can only hope he’s unharmed and on his way to us.” And there was her courageous optimism, always wishing for the best outcome for everyone.

Kain didn’t know how her idealism survived both her father’s death and the grueling task of attending to Cecil’s wounds, but he was glad of it now, needing her hopeful light in the darkness around them. He pulled her in closer, and she did not fight it, pressing herself against his side, freely sharing warmth between them.

Kain heard the mournful wail of a ghoul. It was far enough away that Kain could not hear its shuffling footsteps, but close enough to send a chill down his spine. Kain wondered where Cecil might be tonight, if the Mysidians had sent help yet or if now the surviving ship’s crew also had to contend with the approaching undead, without the benefit of a safety ward or white mage. And that was all assuming Cecil had survived the crash in the first place.

“I hope so too,” Kain finally whispered back.

 Rosa did not reply; she was already asleep, her breath warm and steady against his neck.

Eventually, Kain fell asleep, but his worries followed, giving him strange dreams full of intensely vivid yet vague imagery, scenes that tugged at half-forgotten memories, giving him a nostalgic taste for something for which he had no context. It was like being in the dark and trying to remember how many stairs until the bottom. Each time he tried to fully grasp what he was seeing, he’d miss the next step, and be left stumbling through the darkness, wildly reaching for the next somewhat familiar thing.

When he finally opened his eyes to light, he already knew it was a false awakening. Still, he felt safe, and Kain recognized the linens that covered him to be from his childhood bed. A warmth started to spread through him, the pleasant heat finally thawing his chilled body.

“You should be resting,” a woman said, with an unusual accent Kain could not place. He looked up to see her and his dream-self was not alarmed but soothed by her presence. She seemed familiar somehow, although Kain could not recall her face or name. She was uncommonly beautiful, with dark hair and eyes that looked black and glittering in the low light of the lamp she carried.

The woman set the lamp down on a bedside table, then sat on the bed’s edge. The dancing shadows from the flickering light made her expression impossible to read, and Kain was unsure if she smiled or frowned at him.

“Kain,” she said gently, tucking the blankets in around him. “This is a place to confront uncomfortable truths.” She stopped fussing with the blankets to look him directly in the eye. “Are you ready for that?”

“What truths?” Kain asked. He started to sit up, but the woman placed a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. “Why are there so many secrets around me? Do you know?”

The woman considered him for a long moment, but still, Kain could not make out the details of her face, too distorted by the dream’s eerie atmosphere. Finally, she spoke, and her voice was small and resigned, “The dead have many secrets. They whisper their regrets into the cold ground, until the soil is soaked with guilt and anguish. The earth nourishes itself on their pain, giving it new life and purpose.”

She reached out and cupped Kain’s cheek in her hand. Kain leaned into the affectionate gesture, surprised how much he liked it.  “You don’t need to know the shame that surrounds you,” she continued, stroking her thumb against the curve of his cheek. “You could grow into the man you want to be, never giving a worry about the past and its secrets, not caring about the blight at your roots.”

“But if I wanted the truth?” Kain asked.

“It is right in front of you,” she said, then withdrew her hand from his face. He saw then the way she awkwardly moved her body, compensating for her large pregnant belly. She moved around the bed’s end, then eased herself down to her hands and knees on the floor. She reached under the bed, felt around for a moment, then pulled a small wooden chest out.

“What is it?” Kain asked, but the woman did not answer or even glance his way. He tried to move his legs but found he didn’t have a sense of his body anymore, now only a spectator as the scene continued to play out.

The chest was not large, no bigger than his hand on each side. It was decorated with flowers and sprawling vines carved into its wooden surface. She opened its lid with an air of caution and pulled out a small stack of papers. Setting the chest aside, she slowly leafed through the papers. Then her expression crystalized and Kain could make out her face – she was scowling. Why did she look so familiar?

“Elena!” A man’s voice broke the dreamy softness. The woman looked up, alarmed, then hastily stuffed the papers back into the chest. She closed the chest, then pushed it back under the bed.

“Elena?” The room’s door opened, and in spilled new light. Kain blinked through the brightness, and it was a blurry few seconds before his vision settled and he saw his father stride across the room. “Why are you on the floor?” Richard asked, sounding amused. He knelt beside the woman.

That’s my mother, Kain realized.

“Trying to get my shoes on,” Elena said with a laugh, her speech still thickly accented. “But now that I’m down here, I fear may be stuck.”

“Let me help you,” Richard said as he circled an arm around Elena, helping her up off the floor. Once she was steady on her feet, he released her. “Joanna is here to check on you,” he paused, then leaned in to look closer at her. “Are you all right? You look a bit flushed.”

“Oh,” Elena gave another quick laugh. “Only my efforts to get up.”  She sat on the bed’s edge, easing herself down cautiously. “Give me a moment to catch my breath before you send Joanna in.”

“Of course. Rest a bit, I’ll keep her busy,” Richard leaned down and kissed the top of Elena’s head, then left, with a reluctant look back before he closed the door.

Elena sat in silence, her eyes closed, only breathing deeply. Then, she placed her left hand on the top of her belly, looking thoughtfully at it. “Why Joanna?” she asked of no one. “Why must it always be her?” She lifted her hand back up, then fiddled with her wedding band, twisting it off finger. She held the ring in her palm, considering it. She frowned deeply. “Liar,” she said, sighing out a heavy exhale, then put the ring back on.

“El? Are you feeling all right, dear?” Despite being muffled on the other side of the door, Kain recognized Joanna’s voice.

Elena glanced at the door and scowled again; the dark and angry look clouded her beauty. Then, she shook her head, dispelling the expression. She shifted and resettled herself on the bed, then quickly smoothed out her skirts. “Come on in, Jo,” she said, her voice sweet and light.

Joanna opened the door, and once again, light came in. This time, it drowned out the cozy darkness of the room, forcing Kain to look away, despite his desperate desire to see more, to know more, to finally learn the complicated truth that surrounded him.

Once more, Kain opened his eyes.

Kain woke to the sun in his eyes. On Mount Ordeals, even the sunshine seemed bleak, but it was enough to stir Kain to waking. Kain sat up and saw Rosa across the safety ward. She looked worn, despite the sleep, with dark smudges under her eyes, a new tension in her brow. Most mages wore civilian clothing under their robes, but Kain realized Rosa was wearing an archer’s uniform; close fitting, lightweight green garments under a slim leather cuirass, all designed for ease of movement and speed, and blending into the environment. 

Rosa was sitting, with her supplies laid out before her on the ground: three Cure Potions, a canteen, three servings of hard tack. It was a field survival kit, Kain realized. Alongside the supplies was Rosa’s bow and quiver full of both fire and regular arrows.

“How are you doing?” Kain asked. His legs were stiff as stood, but with only a slight wobble, he got to his feet.

“I’ll manage,” Rosa replied, looking over to watch Kain carefully as he moved. “Your gait looks good,” she remarked, some of the worry easing from her brow. “How’s your stability? Do you think you can Jump?” She stood, focusing on Kain as he continued to move.

Kain braced his legs, sinking a bit into the stance, flexing his knees as he did pre-Jump. A strange numbness spread through his feet, and he found himself stumbling. Rosa caught him by the arm and pulled it around her shoulders, offering extra support. Kain needed it, trusting most of his weight to her. Carefully, she eased him down. Safely on the ground, he flexed his feet back and forth, testing out the strange sensation of not being able to feel them.

Rosa knelt beside him. “Any pain?” she asked, pressing a curious palm against his shin.

“No,” Kain replied. “It just feels numb, out of nowhere.”

“Not an unusual symptom,” Rosa said. “You had multiple breaks. Here--” she traced a line across his left shin, just below his knee. “Here.” Another line, a few inches down. “And here.” The final line was just above his ankle. “Only one break on the right leg because you landed with most of your weight on the left. Some dragoons report numbness in their legs or feet after similar fractures.”

“How do you know all of this?” Kain asked.

Rosa shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. “I did my research on common dragoon injuries.”

Kain couldn’t help himself and grinned. “Oh?”

“Don’t read into it.” Rosa frowned at him. “I did the same for dark knights. If we’re to work together, we need to know how best to function as a unit. I need to be prepared.”

Kain cast a glance aside at her collection of supplies, then looked back to Rosa and considered her archer’s uniform. “You seem especially prepared for this mission. Did you think we’d crash?”

“Didn’t you?” Rosa countered, sounding defensive. “Isn’t that why you didn’t want me along?”

There was a thick silence between them, before Rosa finally sighed. “It’s all I could think about. Losing my father was the worst day of my life. But it wouldn’t compare to my heartbreak if I lost both of you.” She looked down at herself, as if noticing the uniform for the first time. “So, I wore this under my robes and carried some extra supplies.” Rosa cracked a smile, pleased with herself. “You’d be surprised what you can hide under them.” But when Kain said nothing, the smile faded. “Kain, say something,” she implored him, sounding desperate.

“Thank you,” Kain finally spoke, but the words were tight in his throat. He was surprised by the sudden wave of emotion: a mix of gratitude, relief, and love. Love for her and her desire to be here with him, to take care of him, to always think ahead about what he might need. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want you along. I do, I was just scared something might happen.”

“And something did happen,” Rosa said pointedly. “But we’re facing it. Together. That is what matters.” She looked back to his legs with a nod. “Try moving them again. The numbness should have faded.”

Kain flexed his legs and was surprised to find Rosa was correct; he had feeling all the way down to his toes. “Does this mean I can’t Jump?” Kain asked, trying not to feel panicked.

“It should pass,” Rosa said quickly. She held out a hand to help him up; he took it gratefully and she easily pulled him to his feet. She watched him steady himself, then as he walked around, testing each step out with a slow caution. “You need more time and healing before you can Jump again.”

“What are our options, then?” Kain asked, turning in a circle to assess their surroundings. By day, Mount Ordeals was easier to see. He saw the bridge leading to the mountain and a long, winding path to the mountain’s peak, where no living dared go. “We’re on the summit, aren’t we?”

“Both a blessing and a curse,” Rosa said, as she crouched on the ground. She picked up a stick and began drawing a crude map in the dirt. “We wouldn’t have survived the night without it,” she murmured as she drew.

“Or without you,” Kain added quietly. If Rosa heard him, she did not acknowledge it, only continued to draw. Kain knelt beside her, watching as the map took shape.

“We’re high up off the ground. You can’t Jump and our supplies are low,” Rosa announced as she paused her mapmaking, glancing out toward the horizon. “If Mysidia is on their way, it’ll be a day or more until they arrive by chocobo. They’ll stop to assist the ship’s crew first, taking another day, before mounting a rescue for us. And that’s not accounting for where the ship crashed.” She frowned at the ground. “I think that’s right. It’s been months since I’ve been here.”

Kain looked down and saw the mountain sketched out in descending levels. At a few points, Rosa had drawn large X’s. At the bottom, the entrance was marked by sharp upside-down Vs. “What are those?” he asked, pointing at each.

Rosa tapped the stick on one of the X’s. “Chests. Mysidia leaves caches of supplies for mages or pilgrims who attempt the journey up the mountain. Potions and Ethers, mostly.” Then, pointing to the Vs. “This is the fire barrier blocking the entrance to Mount Ordeals. It’s to keep unprepared pilgrims from wandering in without a black mage, but also to keep the dead on the mountain.”

She frowned deeper in concentration, then looked aside at Kain. “I think we have a few options: we can go straight down the mountain, stopping for the supply caches as we go, and hope we can get to the bottom before it gets dark. Or, we can get the nearby chests, back track to the safety ward and rest here while we wait out the night. By tomorrow morning, you may have your leg strength back and we can just Jump down, or, if not, we can start the descent fully rested and in daylight when the undead are least active.”

“And the fire barrier?” Kain asked.

Rosa shook her head. “I haven’t figured that one out yet. Hopefully, by the time we get to the base, Mysidia’s rescue will have arrived and can dispel the barrier.” She paused, chewing on her lip in thought. “What do you think?”

Kain looked down, both at the map and the few supplies Rosa had laid out. “If we’re still waiting up to two days or longer for the fire barrier to come down, we shouldn’t be in a rush to get down the mountain.” He pointed at two X’s clustered nearby, on the elevation below the top. “Let’s try for these two chests, then come back to the safety ward.”

“I agree,” Rosa said with a nod. She looked up at him, her blue eyes looking serious and intense. “Can we do this?” she asked, in earnest need of an answer.

Kain reached for her hand, taking it in his with a squeeze, as they used to do as children. “I think so,” he murmured, meaning to let go of her then, but instead, he ran his thumb over her knuckles. He was both surprised and not surprised when a jolt went through him.

Rosa looked up at him, suddenly wide-eyed, wordlessly answering the question if she’d felt it too.

A terrible howl pierced the tense silence; both Rosa and Kain looked up to see a zombie, on the other side of the bridge, stumbling up the path toward the peak.

“You should armor up,” Rosa said stiffly as she pulled her hand free from his, then cleared her throat.

Kain glanced between Rosa and the zombie, and wondered which danger was greater.

Chapter Text

Despite the early morning light filtering in from the gray sky, Mount Ordeals was a dreary and miserable place. Several trees grew on the mountainside, but they were not heavy with lush greenery as Baron’s forest was, but instead bore bare branches reaching bony fingers up, forlornly grasping for some intangible thing. No birds flew overhead, creating an eerily silent atmosphere.

“Here,” Rosa offered Kain the canteen and a piece of hard tack. He took both and found the canteen two-thirds full. Rosa was chewing on her food, looking out toward the horizon, her eyes unfocused in thought.

Kain ate his slowly, silently observing Rosa and her supplies. He drank from the canteen, gulping down half of what was left. 

“Three potions, three meal rations, and...” he shook the canteen, swishing around the one-third that was left, “...water split three ways. You planned for all three of us.”

Rosa looked back at him, her eyes refocusing. “Why do you seem so surprised?” she asked, sounding hurt.

“I need to stop underestimating you,” Kain admitted quietly, feeling suddenly shamed. He’d been so consumed by his desire to put Rosa out of harm’s way that he never considered he might need both her skills and resourceful mind to survive. “I’m sorry,” he added.

“We’ll split the rest tonight,” Rosa said as she knelt, beginning to pack everything into a small bag. “Hopefully we’ll find more in the supply caches.” She seemed content to ignore both the comment and the apology, so Kain said nothing more, only nodding to her words as he continued to chew.

When he finished eating, Kain went to his armor, laid out in a line by Rosa the night before. It seemed suddenly heavier as he put each piece on, as if the mountain’s aura made his father’s armor harder to bear. He shook his head at the thought, trying to dispel it.

As he was armoring himself, he looked up to see Rosa standing at the edge of the safety ward, looking back across the bridge that separated their small safe island from the rest of the dangerous mountain. The wind tugged at her loose hair, streaming gold behind her. She looked back over her shoulder at Kain; worry knit her brow, blue eyes full of concern, wordlessly asking again, Can we do this?

Can you do this? Cecil asked from Kain’s memory, the last words Cecil had spoken before Kain’s fateful Jump from the ship. Cecil hadn’t just meant the Jump itself, but a thousand other demands in the small question: Could Kain keep Rosa protected? Could he get her off Mount Ordeals? Could he bring Rosa back to Cecil, whole and unharmed? There had been so much trust in the question, a hopefulness that Kain could do all those things because he knew how much Cecil loved Rosa.

Kain needed to do this, not just for Rosa’s own sake, but because Cecil had asked and Kain could never refuse him.

“Save your fire arrows and magic as much as you can,” Kain said as he lifted his helmet, then lowered it over his head. He peered at her from the dragon’s eyes. “If we move carefully, we can ambush any undead we come across and put them down before they can attack.”  He picked up his lance, considering it carefully. “I can’t Jump, but I can still fight.”

Rosa reached over her shoulder into her quiver, pulling out a regular arrow. She set it in her bow, holding it loosely in her hands. He wondered if her fingers twitched with anticipation the way his did when he reached for his weapon, and if they yearned for an arrow or magic. “Ready,” Rosa said, her voice neutral.

With Kain leading, they left the safety ward.

They encountered their first zombie soon after crossing the bridge. Walking lightly, their footsteps as quiet as possible, they came across the zombie shambling along ahead of them on the path. Rosa held out a hand for Kain to halt his approach and gestured in a circle. Kain nodded in understanding, moving slowly around in a wide circle, inching closer to the zombie’s side. Rosa took aim with her arrow, made brief eye contact with Kain to confirm his placement, then fired.

The arrow flew and sank deep into the decaying flesh of the zombie’s right shoulder. Dumbly, the zombie looked up, its rotting eyes catching sight of Rosa. With a groan, it threw itself in a slow turn, arms first, dragging its feet along as it ambled awkwardly toward Rosa.

Kain raised his lance, then struck, sinking its tip the zombie’s soft skull, the bone quickly crumbling around the weapon. The zombie stumbled forward, spilling out its soupy brains as it fell to the ground.

“Easy enough,” Rosa said with a confident smile. Kain was grateful to see it.

Not all their encounters were so easy.

They encountered a Soul, floating in the branches of a dead tree, looking like a small yellow cloud. It spotted them and screamed, throwing the haunting sound into the still air around them.

Rosa cursed under her breath, dropping her bow to the ground with a clatter. She clasped her hands together and lowered her head, murmuring softly. The air around her hummed with magic as she gathered it to her.

The Soul surged toward them, and Kain stepped out in front of Rosa to meet it with his drawn lance. The Soul shrieked something unintelligible, its yellow aura growing more intense as magic erupted around it. Kain shuddered as coldness ran through him, leaving behind a terrible but brief pain in its wake, reminding sharply him of the death of his father. It filled him with an unexpected grief, raw and fresh, as if Richard’s death was only yesterday.

Rosa’s spell came down on them both, relieving Kain of the physical sting from the Soul’s attack. The Soul, however, screamed in response, then dissolved in the holy light of Rosa’s magic, its yellow aura evaporating into the wind. The grief lingered, however, making Kain’s chest feel too tight and constrained in Richard’s armor. Kain saw his father’s face, but the skin started to peel away, revealing shining new red skin beneath, as Kain had seen on Wedge in the infirmary so many years ago. Death surrounded him, its insidious reach going as far back as Kain’s infancy, when it claimed his mother.

Death is all I’m good for, the thought bubbled to the surface of Kain’s mind.

Odin had been right – Kain would have made a formidable dark knight.

“Are you all right?” Rosa asked, as she bent to pick up her dropped weapon. When Kain did not answer her right away, she looked over, concerned. “Kain?” she prompted.

Kain shook his head, shaking the disturbing images of death from his mind, and focused on Rosa. “I’m fine,” he said tightly.

“Mount Ordeals tests more than just your body and skills, but also your strength of mind,” Rosa said with a surprising amount of sympathy. “Try not to dwell on any specific image or thought. These ghosts are wretched creatures full of anger, pain and regret. They will try to infect you as well. It will lead you to question every decision you’ve ever made. And if you allow that, it will drive you mad.”

Kain did not speak, only grunted in reply, finding words difficult.

They continued.

Not every corpse on Mount Ordeals attacked them. Some stirred briefly at their passing, heads lifting slightly off the ground, watching them with unblinking, milky stares. At first, Kain drew his lance to attack one, but Rosa’s hand on his elbow stopped him.

“Look,” she whispered, nodding toward the zombie, which was sprawled out on the ground. It had been lying face down, but at their approach, it now was trying to push itself up, neck straining as its arms tried to brace on the ground. “The legs,” she added.

Kain looked and saw now that the zombie’s legs were mostly gone, leaving behind only deflated trouser legs where its lower limbs had been – no, there was something else, Kain realized, as he looked closer. In the rips of fabric, he saw the remains of its legs, the decaying muscle and skin a putrid mix of green, black, and wriggling white. Kain blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, then looked again, but the little dots of white were still wriggling.

“Maggots,” Kain said, full of horror, trying to swallow down the rising bile of his stomach.

“The earth reclaims its own,” Rosa said somberly. “It would be a kindness to put it out of its misery, but we need to conserve our strength and stamina.”

Kain nodded, not trusting himself not to vomit if he opened his mouth to reply.

Kain was not prepared when they came across the burnt tree.

It was an ominous sight, the tree’s twisted branches reaching uselessly up with blackened stumps, surrounded by piles of half-burnt corpses and ash. There were several other corpses around the tree, but these were not burnt, only unmoving.

Rosa approached one, knelt beside it, then pushed on its shoulder to roll it over, its face turned up to the sky. Kain now saw the handle of something sticking out from its eye. Rosa reached down, gripped the handle, and yanked it free with a horrible squelching sound. She leaned back, then wiped the blade clean on the corpse’s shirt.

“What happened?” Kain asked, but knowing already, remembering the flashes from the night before: Rosa, against the burning backdrop, fiercely defending him from the encroaching shadows.

“We landed here,” Rosa said softly as she stood, almost too quiet for him to hear. “There were too many of them for me to fight on my own.” She looked over at the tree; there was no satisfaction or smugness as she continued, “The tree was dead and dry, so I set it on fire and maneuvered some into it.” She glanced now at the corpse at her feet, gripping a familiar-looking knife tight in her hand. “The others I….” she hesitated, looking now at the knife, her face gone white. When she looked back up at Kain, there was a new hardness in her eyes. “I took care of them however I could.”

Kain watched as she knelt again, then tucked the knife in her boot. Much later, he would wonder when Odin had given the knife to her and what oath he asked for in exchange, but for now, Kain could only stare at her and the scene around them in mute awe of what she had done to protect him.

“Thank you,” he said, the words catching in his throat.

Rosa looked at him, surprised either by his words or the emotion in them. “Always,” she said with a hint of a smile; it was like a brilliant ray of sunshine piercing through the dark morning fog. Following it, following her, perhaps they would survive.

Rosa found the first supply cache, in a chest as she’d described. As she lifted the chest’s lid, Kain saw her eyes close briefly, and he wondered if she prayed. She reached in and pulled out a single Ether. She didn’t curse or shout, only looked forlorn and disappointed.

“It will have to do,” Rosa said, her voice small and resigned. She tucked the Ether into the bag, carefully, as if she was afraid to drop it. “We’ll save the supplies for the descent tomorrow.” She closed the chest. “Hopefully...” she said the word with emphasis, trying to resurrect her slowly dying optimism, “.... the next chest has something more worthwhile.”

“Hopefully,” Kain repeated, hating the melancholy look on her face, wishing he could do something to make her smile again.

Rosa drew in a deep breath, turned away from the chest, to consider the open cliff behind them. It dropped off sharply to another ledge below. She peered down at the elevation; Kain guessed it to be fifteen or twenty feet down.

“The next chest is there.” Rosa pointed, in the distance, to a set of man-made stairs leading upward to a natural ledge, carved out of the stone face of the mountain. “Most of the undead on Mount Ordeals have difficulty walking, so the stairs typically dissuade them from following. If we’re lucky, it will contain more valuable supplies.” She turned to face him. “If we climb down here, we’ll bypass the road going east across to the other side of the mountain before it circles back to here. It’ll save a lot of time and resources, but only if you can safely climb down.” She looked down at his legs, then frowned. “What do you think?”

Kain bent his knees, not fully down into a Jump position, but enough to flex the familiar muscles in his legs. Feeling no pain or discomfort, he straightened back out. He peered over the edge, looking at the cliff face, and saw enough protruding stones that looked easy enough to grasp. Kain looked back to Rosa, who was waiting with expectant eyes.

“Well?” she prompted, sounding anxious.

“I can do it,” Kain answered, trying to sound confident enough to assuage her worries. “But I’ll go first. If I fall, I don’t want to hit you on the way down.”

Rosa frowned again but did not protest.

They took a few moments to secure their weapons to themselves; Kain’s lance sheathed at his back, Rosa’s bow looped around her chest and shoulders. Kain handed his gauntlets to Rosa, who put them in the supply bag.  She checked the fit of the bag and tightened the straps that secured it to her belt, testing its new weight. Once she seemed satisfied, she looked up to Kain and nodded.

Kain knelt by the edge and looked down, trying to pick out the best way downward, with the most available hand holds. He settled on a spot, then went down to his chest and belly on the ground. He inched closer to the edge, then swung his legs over. He balanced there, precariously, until he was able to shift, angling his legs downward, the armored tips of his boots feeling around for something to stand on.

Eventually he eased his upper body down, fingers gripping the cliff’s edge tightly. Then, he pulled one hand down, and found a jagged rock to grip. “Just like that,” he told Rosa, who watched with increasing worry. “I’ll help guide your feet, okay?” he said in the same reassuring tone Rosa used while caring for Cecil and Kain.

Kain made slow progress downward, moving only when he was certain of the next rock he was stepping on. If it could bear the weight of his armored body, then it would certainly hold for Rosa. Once there was room, Rosa came over the edge next, lowering herself down, her feet searching for a hold. Kain reached up and gripped one of her ankles, then guided her foot down to the edge of a rock sticking out from the stone face of the mountain.

Slow and cautious, they followed that pattern down the cliff face. With Kain finding the right stones to step on, and guiding Rosa down to follow in his steps. There was nothing of her childhood ego and insistence on doing something for herself, only the implicit trust that Kain knew where to go and how to get there.

Kain reached the bottom, grateful once his feet touched solid ground again. He reached up, to again guide Rosa’s foot down to the next rock. Kain saw her right hand move uncertainly on its current grip, and then was surprised when the rock’s edge suddenly snapped off from the pressure of her weight. Without a secure hold, Rosa reached desperately for new purchase on the cliff face but found nothing. Perhaps from panic, she shifted, and the movement made her slip. She scrambled for new handholds but fell anyway, her chin smacking hard against a jagged piece of rock as she fell.

Standing right below her, it was easy for Kain to catch her by the waist and guide her to the ground. She fell hard against him, and they stumbled back together. Kain found his feet easily and caught his balance, while Rosa staggered, holding her chin in her hands.

Kain grabbed her shoulders, steadying her uncertain wobble. She straightened, and then Kain saw the blood pooling through her fingers. Never squeamish before, Kain was surprised to find the sight of it made him woozy. “Are.... are you all right?” he asked, his voice sounding faint even to his own ears.

“Don’t panic. It looks worse than it is,” Rosa said, watching Kain carefully. She let go, then reached down to rip a length of cloth from the bottom of her tunic. She rolled it around her fingers into a tight coil, then pressed the wad of fabric under her chin. “The skin is very thin on the skull, so even superficial wounds bleed profusely.” She looked up at Kain and saw his still fearful gaze. “I’m okay,” she said softly. “I promise. It was more jarring than painful.”

Kain nodded, but it did not alleviate the knot of anxiety in his stomach. “Are you going to Cure it?”

Rosa pulled the fabric from her chin, tipped her chin far up, so Kain could see the underside. “Is it bad? If not, I’ll just Cure it tonight in the safety ward, so I save my reserves.”

It was certainly bloody, the gash in her chin looking red and angry. He stepped toward her, taking the bloody wad of fabric from her with his right hand. With his left, he touched the side of her face, along the jaw. Carefully, he angled her chin upward to get a closer look. Holding her still, he dabbed at the gash with the clean side of the fabric, wiping away the blood.

Rosa was right; with all the blood, it had looked much worse than it was. Now he saw it was only an inch or so wide and not very deep. Around the wound, he saw her skin starting to turn purple in the promise of a bruise.

“How’s it look?” Rosa asked, barely moving her mouth as she spoke.

“Bleeding’s slowed down,” Kain said, relief palpable in his voice. “You’re going to get a nasty bruise too, but otherwise it looks fine.” He loosened his grip on her jaw, letting her chin lower back down, but kept his fingers on the side of her face. “How’s your head feel? You smacked it hard.”

Rosa stood very still, then turned her head just slightly toward him, her cheek leaning into his palm. “My head is fine,” she said, peering up at him, trying to puzzle out his expression by his exposed mouth and jaw alone. “Do not worry so,” she finally said.

Your mouth gives you away, Cecil taunted from his memories.

Kain pulled his hand away, suddenly self-conscious. “If you’re feeling able to, we should push on to the next chest,” he said, as he abruptly turned away from her, on the pretense of looking out across the new elevation. He became aware of his heart beating hard against his ribcage and slowly breathed to calm it down.

Rosa didn’t respond for a long moment, letting the tension thicken in the eerie silence of the mountain. “Down this way,” she finally said, sounding small. “There’s another set of stairs that we can take down to the next elevation. Then we follow the cliff west until we find the chest.”

Kain wanted to say something to alleviate the hurt he heard in her voice, but found he had no explanation even for himself. Instead, he pulled his lance free from its sheath on his back, ready to continue.

Descending to the next elevation down was easier thanks to a set of man-made stairs. They encountered only a few zombies as they followed the cliff west, dispatching them easily. Kain found Rosa easy to work with in battle; they communicated well with only wordless expressions and vague gestures. Kain gradually realized it was the adult version of their playacting battle as children, working in tandem to surprise Cecil with an attack.

Why had he ever tried to keep her away? Kain wondered more than once.

The chest was on a raised rock platform, with another set of stairs carved into the rock. It looked like an offering to the pious who had come this far for their faith.

“Please,” Rosa whispered as she opened the lid.  “Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed in relief, as she pulled out the items: a bedroll, three meal rations, flint and tinder, a small metal pot, and a rod topped with a blue crystal. “An emergency kit for someone stranded away the group. Enough to stay put in the safety ward until rescue comes,” she offered as an explanation.

“What’s the rod for?” Kain asked.

“An Ice Rod,” Rosa answered, picking up the weapon with a certain amount of awe.

“Why not Fire?” Kain asked, confused by her reaction. “Wouldn’t that be more effective against the undead?”

“It’s not meant to be used in combat,” Rosa said as she started putting the new items into her bag. “You use the rod to cast Blizzard and collect the snow and ice, then melt it in the pot over the fire. An endless supply of fresh water.” Rosa stood up; she was grinning. “It also means we can take down the fire barrier and get off the mountain.” Her expression became suddenly serious as she looked at Kain. “We might be able to do this.”

“I don’t know why you ever doubted yourself,” Kain said. “If I must be stranded on a mountain crawling with the dead, I’m glad it’s with you. I don’t think there’s anyone else more capable.”

“Do you mean that?” Rosa asked. “Even Cecil?” she added, and Kain recognized the jealousy in the question. Did Rosa struggle with her own jealous impulses, as he did, and how long had she felt this way, Kain wondered.

“Even Cecil,” Kain admitted quietly.

“Let’s get going,” Rosa said abruptly, turning away from Kain and the chest, but not before he saw her smiling to herself.

They backtracked to the first set of stairs and followed it up. Briefly, they discussed whether it was safe to climb back up the cliff, the way they had come, or to follow the worn path used by mages and pilgrims, as it wound around the mountain. Not wanting to risk Rosa on the cliff face again, Kain insisted on the long way. It would take most of their remaining daylight hours, but if they were quick, they might be able to reach the safety ward before dark.

They opted for stealth as much as possible, sneaking by creatures who were generally unaware of their surroundings. Rosa could often misdirect a zombie’s attention by firing an arrow off the path, away from where she and Kain stood. By the time the zombie had shambled over to inspect the sound, Kain and Rosa were far away.

Too often, though, there would be too many grouped up, and Rosa would have to use her magic to quickly eliminate them. As the day moved on, Rosa started to slow, taking longer to move on after each spell casting and encounter.

It was a relief, then, to see the summit again, following the trail of now unmoving corpses back to the safety ward. Some of the tension went out of Rosa at seeing the island and its safety ward once again, the worry easing from her creased brow. They crossed the bridge, first Rosa and then Kain, who kept looking back – just in case.

Somehow, nothing happened – no undead emerged from the shadows and no giant bird of prey descended from the skies. Rosa crossed into the safety ward and immediately went to her knees, pulling items out of her bag.

“Stop,” Kain said, crouching beside her. He reached for her hands, holding them in his grip. She looked up at him, hollow-eyed and worn, too tired to ask what he wanted. “Sit, rest. I’ll set things up.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he interrupted her. “You don’t have to do everything. Let me help.”

Rosa watched, wordlessly, as Kain set up their meager camp. First, he unrolled the bedroll, then gestured to Rosa for her to use it. Moving slowly, she stood, crossed to the bedroll, then eased herself down. “You’ve got this?” she asked, sounding unsure.

“I can do this,” Kain reassured her, summoning Cecil’s words again.

Rosa lay down on her side, watching him with heavy eyes as he unpacked the rest of the supplies on the ground. When he turned to offer her the canteen, her eyes had closed. Instead, he said nothing, and turned back to the task.

Using Odin’s knife, Kain cut off a few dry branches and strips of bark from the island’s only tree. He broke them into pieces, then arranged them around the twist of tinder from the Mysidian kit. He left it all unlit, however, as he went to consider the Ice rod.

“How in the hell...” Kain muttered as he turned the weapon over in his hands, trying to puzzle out how it worked. Magic had always been Rosa’s domain, and now to a lesser extent, Cecil’s with his dark power. But Kain had only ever relied on the strength of his muscles; magic seemed strange and foreign to him.

He pointed into the open air, then swished the blue tip around, trying to jostle it into use.

Rosa’s unexpected laugh broke the quiet.

Kain whirled around to see her watching him, sitting up on the bedroll. “Don’t laugh at me. It’s my first spell.”

“There’s a reason why you’re not a mage,” Rosa said as she sat up, then held out her hand for the Rod. Kain complied, stepping over to her, giving the weapon over. She looked it over briefly, then pointed it at the ground. Kain could have sworn he had been holding it the exact same way but judging by Rosa’s smug expression, he guessed he hadn’t. With a flourish, Rosa spun the Rod, and ice crystals began forming on the ground where she pointed.

“And a reason why you are,” Kain countered he grabbed the small metal pot, and began gathering ice shards, awkward with his gauntlets. “You would have been wasted as an archer.”

“No reason why I can’t do both,” Rosa remarked as she took the pot from him and began gathering the ice herself. “You haven’t ever wanted two things at the same time?” she asked, casting a glance sideways at him.

Her question paralyzed him, making his mouth suddenly too dry for words. “Rosa...” he managed but was unsure of what she wanted him to say, as she watched him expectantly. Kain remembered the look on Cecil’s face as he confessed his feelings, a mix of joy and hope – was that what love looked like, underneath the helmet of a dark knight?

This is the place to confront uncomfortable truths, Elena reminded him from his faded dream. Are you ready for that?  

“Cecil is in love with you,” Kain blurted out, before he could stop himself. “And just like the decision between archery and white magic, there’s a right choice for you. Be with Cecil. You’ll make each other very happy.” He knelt beside the unlit fire, busying himself with the flint and tinder to light it.

Rosa said nothing, stunned into silence by his admission. Then, she shook her head, clearing the shock from her face. “Cecil’s feelings don’t surprise me. I’ve suspected for a while now. But you...” she frowned thoughtfully. “But you, giving up on your own – that surprises me. You’re not known as a quitter, Kain.”

“For the sake of our friendship--” Kain started, but Rosa held up a hand to silence him.

“I mean your feelings for Cecil,” she spoke over him. “Everything has always been for Cecil. You’re always worried about where he is and how he’s feeling.” She paused, then continued more quietly, her voice barely audible over the howling winds above their heads. “You gave me up for Cecil.” It was not an accusation, but a statement of fact.

“I...” Kain wanted to protest but found no lie in her words. The realization subdued him, sapping his desire to argue with her. “I could not bear to choose between you,” he finally admitted, his deep voice somehow sounding small. “And in not choosing, a choice was made for me. But it is all right, because Cecil is the better man for you.” One of the sparks finally caught, and a tiny flame began to grow. “You might even be a queen,” he added quietly.

Rosa looked away, on the pretense of fussing with pot now full of snow. Then, she handed the pot to him. “Once again,” she murmured softly without glancing his way. “No one has bothered to ask me what I feel.”

Kain watched her, and saw her jaw set to a stubborn angle. “What do you feel?” he asked, then held his breath waiting for her reply.

“I love you both beyond words,” Rosa answered with a resigned sigh. “I don’t always know what that means.”

“I understand,” Kain said, exhaling slowly. He put the pot in the small flickering flame; the ice and snow began to shrink in volume as it rapidly heated up and melted. “More than I can say.” He looked across the small fire at her to where she still sat on the bedroll. “After nearly losing you, Cecil will be compelled to profess his feelings once he sees us again. You’ll have to decide then.”

“And no matter what happens, someone’s heart will break,” Rosa observed sadly.

“What will you tell him?” Kain asked.

Before Rosa could answer, a ghoulish howl interrupted the relative quiet and peace of the safety ward, sounding close by. Both Rosa and Kain looked up to see a zombie struggling across the bridge, the wooden boards swinging with each uncertain step forward.

Rosa stood, grabbing her bow and quiver from the ground. She nocked an arrow, took aim, and fired. The arrow shot through the blue aura of the safety ward, striking the zombie in the eye. It roared and threw itself backwards, and the momentum sent it over the bridge’s railing, falling to the jagged rocks below.

“We’re not off the mountain yet,” Rosa said somberly as she lowered her bow. She cast a sideways glance at Kain. “For now, there is no Cecil, no Baron, no meddling mothers or kings. There’s only you and me trying to survive. Can you be present with me until then?”

Kain met her gaze, trying to keep his mouth in a neutral line. “I can,” he said.

As the sun continued to move across the sky, getting closer to the western horizon, Kain and Rosa worked in relative quiet. Rosa used the now heated water to clean the wound on her chin, then cast Cure on herself, while Kain took off his armor and set it neatly in a row next to the supplies.

Rosa tore off several long strips of cloth from her white mage robes, saving a few with the supplies to use as bandages, then handed one to Kain and told him to wash his face. Using the Ice Rod to generate more ice, she put more water to heat.

They used the second and third batch of hot water to wipe their faces and hands clean, which turned out to be desperately needed after a night and day on the mountain, evidenced by how dirty the cloth became when Kain was done.

The fourth pot of water was left to cool in a pile of ice, while Kain passed out two of the meal rations. Sitting together, facing the western sky, they ate their meager meals and passed tepid water back and forth. The sight of the terrible mountain was behind them, and it was easy to pretend it wasn’t there as they watched the setting sun together.

Rosa leaned her head on Kain’s shoulder, as they used to do while sitting on Cecil’s roof together. Kain wound his arm around her, and she scooted in closer. He tried to think of something to say, something that would alleviate the aching absence of Cecil from his other side but found no adequate words.

Rosa’s lean became heavier and Kain felt her breathing steady as she fell asleep against him. He didn’t dare move, for fear of accidentally disturbing her. She pushed herself too far, using too much energy to get them through Mount Ordeals. How would tomorrow go, he wondered, once they tried the full journey down? Could Rosa rest enough to recover her magic?

Be present with me, Rosa reminded him.

Kain pushed aside the worries of tomorrow, the uncertainty of whether they could safely descend the mountain, and whether Cecil would be safe and waiting for them. He closed his eyes, and tried only being aware of what was around him: the whistling wind and Rosa’s familiar warmth by his side.

Finally finding some measure of peace, Kain fell asleep.

Kain dreamed.

Rosa sat on a stool beside a window, the curtains pulled back. In her lap was a wooden hoop, stretched tight with fabric, with bits of thread laced haphazardly through it. Rosa looked out the window, her eyes distant, looking bored.

“You won’t improve your stitches if you don’t practice,” Joanna warned from the side.

Rosa kicked her legs, dangling from the stool, and the gesture made the dream snap into focus, Rosa’s features suddenly softening. She was a child, no more than seven or eight, and now she pouted. “When will Papa get here?”

“When he gets here,” Joanna answered. She sat in a chair beside the hearth, her own wooden hoop also in her lap. “Sulking and staring at the window will not make time go faster.” She paused, sticking her needle into the fabric, and looked up. “Keeping yourself busy will. Needlework is a good skill to learn.”

“Needlework is stupid,” Rosa huffed, looking out the window again.

Joanna didn’t look angered by her daughter’s defiance, only amused, smiling to herself. “It’s not so stupid, when you find yourself stitching up a soldier in the middle of the field.”

Rosa’s eyes went wide. “Really? Why wouldn’t you just use magic?”

“Magic doesn’t always work,” Joanna answered, shifting in her seat to face Rosa more fully. “Or can make things worse if you don’t know the scope of the wound or illness you’re treating. Sometimes you just need to let the body heal itself or find other treatments outside of magic.”

Before Rosa could ask her next question, the front door suddenly opened, and Roland stepped inside. The years had made Roland a blurry image in Kain’s mind, but now, Kain saw Roland with clarity – a tall, lanky man, his blonde hair tied back in queue at his neck. When he smiled it reached his eyes, making them look a brighter blue.

“I’m home!” Roland declared.

“Papa!” Rosa squealed with childish delight and jumped from her stool, her needlework forgotten and falling to the floor. She ran to the door, and Roland knelt and met her with open arms. They embraced, and Roland stood, holding Rosa securely as he lifted her into the air. She circled her arms around his neck, holding on tightly but never fearing that he might drop her.

“Princess,” Roland greeted her with a kiss on her brow. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m not a princess,” Rosa sulked, her expression souring with displeasure. “I’m a knight.”

“A princess-knight,” Roland corrected himself. “I have a gift for you.”

“What did you bring me?” Rosa asked, eyes full of curiosity.

Roland set Rosa back down, and she watched him eagerly as he set his bag on the ground. He knelt beside it and began digging through its contents. Finally, he pulled out a book. “It’s a guide on desert survival,” he said as he handed the book to Rosa. “For your expanding travels.”

“Wow,” Rosa said with awe as she opened the book to a map of Damcyan and its territories. She traced her finger down a line that traveled through the map, never in a straight line, but meandering around the many blue dots on the map. “Why aren’t the roads straight?” she asked, peering up at her father.

“Great question,” Roland said, as he touched a blue dot on the map, drawing Rosa’s attention back to it. “These are water sources in the desert. The roads follow these paths to ensure each traveler is never far from water. But,” he said, tapping the page for emphasis, “Wind storms are common in the desert, making it easy to stray off the road.”

“What do you do if you get lost?” Rosa asked, her eyes wide.

Roland turned the page to a new illustration. To Rosa, it looked like a cross between a man and a fish, standing tall on two legs, covered in red scales and fins, large gills protruding from its neck. “This is a Desert Sahagin. They’re nasty creatures who are very territorial, but spotting one is a good sign because they always den near water.”

“So, if you get lost,” Rosa said as she looked over the picture, taking in its details. “You find these monsters or their tracks and follow them back to water.”

“Exactly,” Roland said. “Staying cool and hydrated is important, especially if you want to prevent Sand Fever.”

“Sand Fever?” Rosa asked, looking back up at Roland.

But it was Joanna who answered. “A terrible and strange illness, contracted by breathing the desert air. The body’s immune system can usually handle it, but if it’s weakened by dehydration or something else…” Joanna trailed off.

Rosa took the prompt eagerly. “Then Sand Fever is easy to catch!”

“Exactly,” Joanna said with a proud smile. “And in serious cases, it cannot be healed or eased by magic or usual medicines for fever, but by the egg of a rare creature that nests in Damcyan’s northern caves.”

“Really?” Rosa asked as she opened the book again and started flipping through its pages.

“Why don’t you read more in your room?” Roland suggested casually, his tone mild.

Rosa, with her nose already in the book, exited the dream.

With a sudden grin full of mischief, Roland grabbed for Joanna, taking her wrist in his hand, and pulling her toward him. “Come here, wife,” he said as he circled his arms around her in an embrace. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Joanna replied with a laugh, as she settled in against his chest. “How long do I have you? When is your next deployment?”

“Only a few weeks,” Roland replied with a frown.

“Why so soon?” Joanna asked, sounding disappointed.

“There’s been sightings of strange monsters around the Tower of Babil,” Roland said. “I’ll be accompanying the Red Wings to investigate.” He spotted the concern on Joanna’s face and shook his head. “Do not fret. Richard is coming with me, like the old days.”

“Richard?” Joanna asked, surprised. She leaned back to look at Roland, loosening their embrace. “Why? Commanders don’t take on missions like these.”

Roland shrugged, unsure. “I don’t know. This either comes from King Odin or Richard himself; I was only told he would be on the ship.” He saw Joanna frowning and mirrored the expression. “What’s wrong?” he asked, suddenly concerned.

Joanna stiffened, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. “I…” she started to say, then stopped, closing her mouth. She studied Roland for a long, intense moment, as if trying to decide something, then shook her head. “It is nothing – only too many feelings at once. I’m both overjoyed to see you and heartbroken you must leave again so soon.”

“Then let me overwhelm you with only joy, so you forget all else,” Roland said, taking her by the hand. “Only let me say hello properly,” he added with his usual grin, leading her toward their bedroom.

Joanna smiled, though it did not reach her eyes; Roland pretended not to notice.

When he woke abruptly, hours later, he was confused and disoriented by the darkness around them. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, but the glow from the safety ward and the moons overhead granted just enough light for Kain to see.

Rosa was still sitting beside him, but she huddled in on herself, her breathing shallow. Kain realized this was what had woken him, his side feeling strangely cold without her.

“Rosa?” he asked cautiously.

“Sorry, I just...” Rosa abruptly wiped her face, and Kain knew she had been crying. “I had the strangest dream...”

“What happened?”

Rosa drew in a breath to steady herself, and seemed more in control as time softened the edges of her dream. “I dreamed of my father, but it seemed so real. I thought it was a memory, but…” she hesitated, grappling for the right words. “Only this went on even after I left the room. I saw my parents talking about the mission he was killed on.”

“I dreamed of my mother,” Kain said with a confessional air. It seemed easier to admit to that than to tell Rosa he had witnessed her memory-dream too, like he had intruded on some private moment. “It felt like a memory, too, only it wasn’t my own. She told me that the truth was right in front of me if I wanted to see it. I think...” he hesitated, unsure of whether to continue, but the vulnerability felt right in this moment with her. “I think she was angry with your mother about something.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember. Is Mount Ordeals creating such strange dreams?”

“It could be,” Rosa replied. “Mount Ordeals has a relationship with the dead that few understand. It would not surprise me if they tried to communicate through our dreams.”

“Do you think I’ll dream of my father?” Kain asked, with hunger in his voice that surprised him. What wisdom could Richard still impart to his son, now grown into a man? What would Kain give for just one more conversation with his father?

Rosa smiled; he could only see it faintly in the dark, but saw her cheeks curve up with the expression. “Perhaps.” She found his hand and laced her fingers through his. “Will there ever be a day when you don’t let others dictate your choices? Not your father, not the king, not my mother, not even Cecil.”

“And not you?” Kain asked.

“When have you ever listened to what I want?” Rosa countered with a sharp edge to her tone. “You have always worked to circumvent me from my goals. Always with good intentions, certainly, but you do it nevertheless.”

“What do you want, Rosa?” Kain asked, then, knowing what this was about, added, “Who?” He became acutely aware of how close and warm she was. “Suppose we’re standing at the entrance of Mount Ordeals and the choice is only yours. Not Cecil’s or mine, but yours. Who do you pick?”

Kain felt Rosa stiffen in response, her shoulders and back going rigid with tension. “Are you actually asking me that?” she asked, full of trepidation. “Are we finally having this conversation?”

“Yes,” Kain answered, feeling emboldened by the nighttime darkness and the insulating danger of the mountain.

“Kain,” Rosa said, shifting where she sat to look at him, pulling her hands away from his. He saw her faintly outlined in the safety ward’s glow, the moonshine throwing silvery glints through her hair, eyes too dark to make out their color. “Cecil is...” she paused, looking aside from Kain, up at the twin moons in the sky. “I’m lost in the desert and dying of thirst. Cecil is a cask of water. But you... you are the whole river, flooding me, dragging me under the current. The way I feel about you terrifies me, because I never know if you’re going to drown me. You...” she looked back to Kain, then down at her lap, and blurted out the next words, “You make my heart sick with want.”

Kain had no words, his tongue tacky in his suddenly dry mouth.

“If it were just the two of us...” Rosa continued, unwilling to let her last words hang too long between them. “...it would be an easy decision for you, wouldn’t it?” she asked, her voice going high with emotion. “Why can’t it be that way? Just you and me, and no one else, together on this mountain. Can we not have one night of that and not let Cecil or anyone else stand between us?”

“Would you want that?” Kain asked, glad now of the darkness that hid his face from her, feeling his cheeks go warm. “If I could offer only right now, would that be enough? If I could do no more?”

 “I would,” Rosa whispered in the dark. “Would you?”

Something on the other side of the bridge howled, splitting the eerie silence of the mountain with its wretched wail. Kain looked over at the entrance of the safety ward, listening for any creaking from the bridge. When nothing new sounded, he looked back to Rosa, mouth open to answer her, though unsure of what he was going to say.

Instead, in an echo of their first encounter a lifetime ago in the Dragoon’s armory, she kissed him.

There was a new greedy hunger replacing the shy uncertainty that had driven Rosa when they were younger. She circled a possessive hand around his neck, pulling him toward her, demanding closeness. She kissed him like a drowning woman, Kain realized, like she could only get air in her lungs through his mouth.

If Kain had any lingering doubts or conflicting feelings, they were overwhelmed by Rosa and the intensity of her desire. The abrupt realization that she wanted him this much sent an involuntary shiver through him; Rosa pulled him closer in response, as if she thought he was cold, clinging to him like she alone could protect him from the threats that surrounded them.

Kain did not think of Cecil or the complicated feelings Kain had about him. Rosa and her immediacy overwhelmed him, drowning out all coherent thoughts.

What happened next was an ongoing continuation of that kiss, unfolding gradually between them. At one point, Rosa became suddenly shy, and pulled away from him. Kain was about to ask her if she was all right, if she wanted to stop, but Rosa took his hand in hers and led him, standing from where they sat, over to the middle of safety ward, beside the bedroll.

Suddenly afraid either of them would change their minds, he pulled her against him, one arm wound around her back, pressing their bodies tightly together. Rosa briefly went wide-eyed, looking up in surprise at him. Kain offered her a sheepish grin, and Rosa laughed, alleviating the uncertainty of the moment. It was suddenly one of their childhood games, lighthearted and fun, without the looming pressure and expectations of adulthood, without the danger of either Mount Ordeals or what waited for them in Baron.

Kain kissed her, wanting to be the one to initiate this time, wanting to show her he was present and here with her, that no one else stood on the mountain with them. What started as a few soft touches between them gradually became more insistent, until they were both tugging impatiently at each other’s clothing. Kain caught only glimpses of Rosa bare in the moonlight, but what he did see stole his breath away. She broke away and dragged Kain down to the bedroll on the ground.

Later, when Kain reflected on what happened next, he would remember it as the most perfect night of his life. Rosa had a quiet confidence as she touched him, by then betrayed her own inexperience when his reaction caused her to gasp. He saw the depth of love in her eyes as she pulled him down to her, whispering encouragement into his ear. Even his awkward fumbling seemed perfectly suited to the moment, somehow more endearing as Rosa helped him, guiding his movement.

Together, finally, Kain buried his face in Rosa’s hair, overwhelmed by her presence around him. She clung to him, arms and legs holding him tightly. Kain knew the mechanics of sex – anyone who had ever spent any time around a chocobo farm or listened to a traveling bard’s bawdy ballads figured that out quickly – but this seemed so much more than that, something too sacred to trust to words.

Too quickly, it was over, as first encounters often are. Rosa gasped confessions of love, holding him possessively to her, her hands tangled and pulling in his long hair. It was all suddenly too much and Kain cried out, abruptly spending himself and collapsing on top of her.

Still except for their heavy breathing, Rosa’s grip on his hair turned gentle, now lightly stroking his head. Resting his brow on her chest, he had so many things he wanted to tell her: how much he loved her, how much he needed her, how much more important than she was than anyone else...

“Rosa, I...” Kain started.

“Shh,” Rosa softly interrupted him. “Say nothing more and let this night be what it is.” She continued stroking his hair, lulling him toward sleep. “Rest for now, and we’ll face tomorrow together.”

“Together,” Kain murmured in agreement, his eyes already growing heavy. Given all that happened that day and night, it did not take long for sleep to claim him.

Chapter Text

Kain dreamed again.

It had a certain clarity, like the previous night’s dream, telling Kain he was witnessing the dead's memories again. He watched, bodiless and drifting, as two men strode through Baron Castle toward the Infirmary wing. At first, Kain could make out only a few stray words of their conversation, but as he became more aware, he caught the thread of it. 

“And little Rosa is eight now?” the first man asked, his features crystalizing suddenly in the lens of the dream. Kain immediately recognized a younger Albert Hawthorne, his face not yet lined from years of concerned leadership.

“Yes,” said the second with a now familiar smile: Roland Farrell. “She’s getting cleverer by the day. I fear I won’t be able to keep up soon.”

“Isn’t that the way with daughters?” Albert remarked with a laugh.

They rounded the corner to find Joanna and Richard further down the hallway, standing together in close conversation. Neither heard their approach, nor looked over to see them. Richard had a few papers in his hand, crumpled in his tight grip.

This is my father’s memory, Kain realized with wonder as he recognized Richard.

“Richard, please,” Joanna said, her voice low in a hiss. “This isn’t the time or the place to discuss this.” She turned to walk away in the other direction, toward the infirmary, but Richard grabbed her by the upper arm.

“Then when?” Richard asked, tugging hard on Joanna’s arm to pull her back, his fingers digging sharply into her skin. “You would rather ignore what’s happened?” He pushed her roughly into the wall, holding her pinned there; there was a wild fury in Richard’s eyes that Kain had never seen before. “You would rather pretend it never happened?” he asked, holding the papers up to her face, gesturing aggressively. “Because I fucking can’t, Joanna.”

Joanna, although wide-eyed in fear, found her voice, “What do you want me to say? How can I change the truth? The past is what it is, and you must learn to live with it, as I have.”

“It could be different,” Richard said, softening his grip on her arm, his voice now husky as he murmured beside her ear. “We could make it different, how it should have gone between us, from the beginning. We cannot change the past but we could change the future.”

Joanna remained stiff against the wall, not coaxed by Richard’s softer tone. “I’m making the same decision you made for us all those years ago. This is for the best.”

“I chose wrong, Joanna, you must see that for both of us. With everything that’s happened, can you go really go on playing happy wife?” Richard asked, brushing his fingers lightly on her upper arm, as if he could wipe away the red imprints of his fingers indented there.

“You have your son,” Joanna said gently, placing her hand carefully over his, squeezing. “And I have my daughter. Can you not be content with that?”

“What the hell is going on!?” Roland demanded. Both looked up, with Richard jumping back from Joanna to put proper distance between them. Joanna looked relieved while Richard fumed again with anger. He stormed past both Albert and Roland, checking Roland hard with his shoulder as he passed.

Looking furious, Roland started after Richard, but Albert caught Roland by the arm, halting him. “I’ll handle this,” Albert insisted. “Go see to your wife,” he added, when Roland didn’t move. Reluctantly, Roland turned back to Joanna, allowing Albert to pursue Richard. Both dragoons disappeared beyond the blurred edges of the dream.

Yet still, Kain’s awareness lingered on, mercifully allowing the scene to continue despite Richard’s departure.

“You want to tell me what that’s about?” Roland asked, his voice still hard with anger.

“Do you really want to know?” Joanna asked, her voice a whisper, new tears standing in her eyes. “You’ll regret asking,” she added, sounding sad and solemn.

I want to know, Kain implored from his dream self.

You’ll regret asking, Joanna repeated, this time taunting.

Roland said nothing, his face surprisingly neutral and controlled despite his previous fury. Joanna buried her face in her hands, her words muffled between her fingers. “Will you really make me say it?” She looked up from her hands with wet cheeks. “This terrible secret between us that we pretend is not there. Must we name it now?”

“Do... Do you still love me?” Roland asked, sounding unsure. “Do you still want to be with me?”

“Yes!” Joanna answered quickly, a new hope blooming through her tears.

Roland looked surprised at her answer, then shook his head.  “Then, it does not need to be said. I...” he hesitated, then asked, “What of the children?”

“They don’t need to know,” Joanna said with a sniffle. “If you and Richard can agree to leave this alone.”

Richard pulled Joanna into his arms, holding her delicately, as if might shatter in his embrace were he too passionate. “I… understand,” he said cautiously.

But I don’t... Kain protested as the scene began to fade to white.

Kain woke to dawn’s light, spilling over the mountain’s eastern side. At some point in the night, Rosa had gone and retrieved the remains of her white mage robes, laying it out across them as a makeshift blanket. Between the weighty fabric and Rosa nestled up beside him, sharing warmth, the cold of the mountain did not seem so bad.

Rosa was still sleeping, her breathing even and steady. She lay next to him, her head on his shoulder, her arm thrown possessively over his chest, her fingers in a loose grip on his opposite shoulder, as if she feared him slipping away unnoticed. His arm around her back kept her pressed to his side, his hand resting lightly on her bare hip.

Kain closed his eyes again and tried to hold on to the moment awhile longer. If only things could stay exactly as they were right now, then maybe Kain could be truly content for the first time in his life.

For a while, the world let Kain have his wish, until Rosa’s soft voice broke the peaceful silence. “We cannot pretend to sleep much longer,” she said with regret.

Kain’s stomach dropped, knowing the moment was passing, as was inevitable with all such moments. “Perhaps,” he murmured, not yet opening his eyes, and not loosening his embrace of her. Rosa didn’t move either, just as unwilling to let this go. Somehow, knowing Rosa struggled too was a comfort. “I’m not ready for this to be over,” Kain admitted, quietly, reluctantly opening his eyes again.

“Me neither,” Rosa said as she shifted, propping herself up with her elbow on the ground, looking down at him. “Danger is like alcohol,” she stated, without preamble. “It gets into you and makes your blood run hot, inspiring you to say or do things you might not normally do.” She looked up at the entrance of the safety ward, her eyes going distant and unfocused. “The older mages told me it’s not uncommon for romantic affairs to start on dangerous missions. Something to do with the vulnerability of risking your life and needing to be close to another person.”

“That’s a pretty speech,” Kain remarked. “What are you trying to say, exactly?”

“I’m trying to say...” Rosa, who was usually never at a loss for words, hesitated. She looked back to him, drew in a deep breath to steady herself, then continued, “How you feel right now might not be how you feel when we step off this mountain.” Kain opened his mouth to protest, but Rosa spoke over him. “And that’s all right. Circumstances change. I guess what I’m really trying to say is that we should wait until we’re safely back in Baron before we discuss what happened between us.”

And to see if Cecil survived, Kain thought but did not voice it.

“Once we leave the safety ward, we need to worry about surviving and nothing else,” Rosa said in the face of Kain’s silence. “I need to stay focused. Can you do this, for me?”

Can you do this? Cecil reminded Kain of his promise, now angry and outraged.

“I can,” Kain said, feeling a new pit of guilt settling in his chest.

Rosa shifted away from Kain, then stood from the shared bedroll. Kain averted his eyes, feeling suddenly embarrassed; he could hear her moving around, and the rustle of her clothing as she dressed.

“I...” Kain started as he sat up, still avoiding eye contact with Rosa. He cleared his throat, then started over. “I had another dream about our parents.”

“Did you?” Rosa asked; Kain was grateful she leaned into the subject change. “What happened?”

“My father and your mother were discussing something heated,” Kain hesitated, risking a glance toward Rosa. She was fully dressed in her archer’s uniform and fixing her hair into a quick braid.

“What about?” Rosa prompted, not glancing up from her fingers as they worked.

“I’m not sure,” Kain replied. He saw his discarded clothing on the ground and decided to risk standing up, moving quickly as Rosa seemed distracted. “But your father and Albert came upon them, and it seemed like...” He hesitated as he pulled on his pants, trying not to feel cold in the chilly morning air. “Do you think it’s possible something happened between our parents? Something... romantic?”

“Do you mean to suggest that my mother and your father had a torrid affair?” Rosa asked, sounding amused.

Kain looked Rosa’s way to see that she watched him openly, not carrying the same sense of embarrassment that Kain had. If she had any judgment about his nudity, he could not read it in her neutral expression. “I don’t know,” he muttered as he shrugged on his shirt, feeling relieved to be back in his clothes. “But there’s something, I’m just not sure what it is.”

“You could ask my mother,” Rosa suggested.

Kain gave a short, humorless laugh. “You want me to ask a widow if she ever strayed from her marriage bed?” He shook his head. “If it were possible, she’d hate me more than she already does.”

“Then ask Albert instead,” Rosa offered next. “If he was present, he could confirm if the event actually happened, and you can go from there.” She began packing up their supplies, being deliberately cautious as she handled each potion. “And if not, it’s just a strange dream you had on a strange mountain.”

Kain pondered her idea for a moment, then found himself nodding. “I think I will.”

“But first,” Rosa said with a nod toward his laid-out armor. “We need to get back to Baron.”

Kain went to the armor and considered it for a long moment, feeling a growing reluctance deep in his bones. Rosa came up beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked over to her and she offered a brilliant smile, easing some of the trepidation Kain felt.

“Back to Baron,” Kain echoed. And Cecil, the thought bubbled up, unbidden. A surge of new guilt followed, and he swallowed hard to chase the taste of it away. He turned to Rosa, then, feeling inspired, snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

“Kain!” Rosa exclaimed, but did not fight the close embrace, settling in against his chest. “We need to be serious.”

“You said once we leave the safety ward,” Kain said, as he reached up behind her back, loosely griping her braid. He lightly tugged, pulling her head back. He leaned in, brushed his lips against her exposed jaw and murmured, “Give me an hour.” He relaxed the hold on her braid, allowing her movement of her head again, straightening back up to look at her.

Rosa inhaled sharply. “We don’t have time,” she said tightly, turning her head from his. But then she placed her hand over his heart, feeling it pick up in speed, hammering hard against her palm. “Twenty minutes,” she said, shyly glancing back his way. “You don’t have the stamina for an hour,” she remarked, suddenly grinning.

“You wound my ego,” Kain said with feigned hurt. “I’m betting I do,” he said, leaning in again closer to her. “Prove me wrong,” he challenged, kissing her before she could reply.

To Kain’s delight, Rosa did.

Afterward, they dressed for a second time. The morning sun was well up on the horizon, mocking their lost time. Rosa packed up their supplies while Kain put on his armor, both working in thoughtful silence.

“Ready?” Rosa finally asked the dreaded question, as she stood by the entrance of the safety ward.

Never, Kain thought but instead said, “Ready.”

Together, his left hand in her right, they passed through the glowing blue barrier of the safety ward. Once fully on the other side, Rosa pulled her hand away. She reached for an arrow from her quiver, while Kain unsheathed his lance, holding it ready. With one last longing look back at the only place Kain had ever known a moment of contentment, they left.

It would be the first of many regrets in Kain Highwind’s life.

The first leg of their journey was relatively easy. They followed the trail of decaying corpses left behind the day before, some burned by fire or holy magic, others with their heads bashed in, but all rendered finally dead, freed from their terrible unlife. While a few monsters had wandered in overnight, they were dispatched easily. For the most part, however, the way was clear.

For a few hours, it gave Kain time to think. They moved through Mount Ordeals as silently as possible, not speaking to each other for fear of being overheard by any lingering monsters. He thought about the dreams of his parents, and what they might be trying to tell him.

Had Richard felt about Joanna the way Kain was feeling about Rosa now? Had their friendship blossomed into something more, behind Roland’s back? And with Richard’s abrupt death, was Kain’s resemblance to his father too much for Joanna’s guilty conscience to bear?

Your presence pokes at a wound that will never heal, Joanna reminded him.

Is that wound a broken heart? Kain wondered but had no answer.

Things became more difficult as they came to a new lower elevation, past where they had cleared the previous day. They encountered more monsters now, in larger clusters, making them difficult to single out to quickly kill.

Rosa, as she had warned, was intensely focused in battle. She fired off arrows with deadly accuracy and she used her Cure spell to soothe their injuries, but mostly to burn up the undead. Their terrible shrieks broke the eerie silence of the mountain, echoing off the cliff faces.

Kain struggled to keep up with her, taking point to draw the monsters’ attention to himself, trying to draw the brunt of their attacks. But still, too often, they were focused on Rosa, pursuing her doggedly without concern of Kain’s attacks. She was a holy beacon on a mountain of darkness and death, how could they ignore her? How could he?

Their meager supplies did not last long, with Rosa strategically using their Potions to ease their injuries when the need was not so urgent. By the late afternoon, as they approached the cave that led to the lowest elevation before the mountain’s entrance, Rosa used the Ether, reluctantly draining its contents. She closed her eyes, swaying uncertainly for no more than a few seconds, then her eyes snapped back open, and she righted herself.

“Are you well?” Kain asked, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

“Yes,” Rosa murmured, inhaling slowly. “I can do this.”

Kain wasn’t sure if she was trying to assure him or herself, and who needed it more. Either way, it didn’t matter – they pushed on.

They could hear the crackle of the immense fire before they saw it, as they descended the last set of stairs, then followed the curving path around the final bend.

“Thank goodness,” Rosa breathed a sigh of relief as it came into view, huge and leaping, stretching with greedy arms of fire toward anything that might be within reach. The fire was a firm barrier between the mountain and the distant forest beyond it, blocking entry to any who tried to enter or leave.

Together, they approached the fire barrier, and Rosa began to dig through her bag for the Ice Rod. Heat rippled through the air, warming Kain’s chilled body thoroughly, until he began to sweat in his armor. The roar of the flames was so much that neither Kain nor Rosa heard the scuffle of dragging footsteps behind them.

Rosa lifted the Ice Rod, arm poised, then let out a startled yelp. Kain turned to see a Revenant, the strongest of the known undead on Mount Ordeals, assembled by a terrible concoction of death magic and the dying’s regrets. It stood behind Rosa, wearing the shredded robes of a Mysidian white mage and brought its clawed hand down in a swipe across her back. Rosa shrieked, and in her surprise dropped the Ice Rod.

Kain drew up his lance to strike, only to have something hard and strong swing at his head, rattling hard within the metal confines of his helm. Dazed, Kain slowly turned to face his attacker, a Zombie, in time to take another fist to the face, sending him stumbling backwards toward the flames.

Too close to the fire, his back became uncomfortably hot, the metal armor starting to sear his flesh. Kain let out an involuntary howl of pain, before charging forward, away from the fire and into the attacking Zombie. Together, they fell. While the Zombie had the strength advantage, imbued with its unnatural dark power, Kain had the size and weight advantage, and easily found himself on top, pinning the Zombie beneath him.

Hearing Rosa’s desperate cries behind him, Kain punched the Zombie, its decaying flesh and bone soft under his gauntleted fist. Kain found himself filled with a desperate fury he had never felt before, and would have kept punching, but Rosa screamed, a full-throated, terrified sound that would haunt Kain’s nightmares for the rest of his life.

Kain stood, fist dripping with rotting blood and viscera. He watched with horror as the Revenant, hunched over Rosa’s crumpled body on the ground, leaned in, teeth open, and chomped down on Rosa’s shoulder, then tore away a chunk of flesh in a savage, bloody bite.

Rosa did not move, still as a grave.

Roaring with outrage, Kain charged at the Revenant, knocking the monster off Rosa. The Revenant was considerably stronger than the Zombie, however, turning its teeth and claws on Kain now. He was lucky to have his armor, the enduring metal taking the brunt of the attack. Kain lifted his lance to strike but was surprised to find the Revenant swinging a clawed fist at him. It struck him on the side of the head, rattling his skull within his helmet, sending Kain staggering backward. The fire reminded him of its violent presence, making Kain’s back painfully hot again.

Caught between the two dangers, Kain hesitated. The Revenant did not, heedless of the immense danger the fire posed, throwing its body awkwardly at Kain. Without thinking, acting only on instinct, Kain flexed his knees and Jumped.

It was not a high Jump, only enough to ride the busy currents of hot air upward and out of the way. Confused, the Revenant stumbled too far forward and was immediately engulfed in fire, its terrible cries of pain abruptly lost to the flame’s greedy roar.

Kain landed soundly next to Rosa, falling to his knees beside her. “Rosa?!” he called, shaking her shoulder. When she did not respond, he rolled her over, finding her not conscious, her eyes rolled up into her head. He yanked off his gauntlets, then, with shaking hands, felt Rosa’s neck for a pulse, and watched her chest for breathing.

When neither came, panic began to set in, making him tremble now, as he frantically dug through Rosa’s bag, desperate for any remaining Potion, hoping against hope that she had saved at least one. When his fingers finally closed around a cool glass bottle, he murmured a prayer of thanks.

Meanwhile, the dirt below Rosa began blooming red, as she continued to bleed from her neck, back and shoulder wounds. Kain scrambled to uncork the Potion. He propped up her head, then carefully opened her mouth. Trying to be gentle but struggling with his shaking hands, he tipped the Potion over, sloshing its liquid contents into her slack mouth. Then, Kain waited, holding his breath, praying to anyone who might be listening.

Please... he pleaded.

Rosa sputtered suddenly, filling Kain’s heart with joy and relief, then coughed wetly. Kain hurried to kneel behind her, arms under her shoulders, propping her up off the ground. She wheezed, then seemed to catch her breath. From his vantage point, illuminated by the orange glow of the fire behind them, Kain now saw her back. Both the fabric of her tunic and the skin below had been shredded to ribbons, so bloody that the remaining fabric and strips of skin were soaked through and clinging. Rosa moaned with pain, doubling over on herself.

“You need to Cure yourself,” Kain said, circling around to her front, taking her shaking hands in his. “Rosa, look at me. You need to do this.”

Her eyes were wild with pain, unfocused and blurry. She struggled to concentrate on him, her skin pale and damp, her lips white and thin, her whole body trembling in shock. But finally, she did, her eyes blinking hard to stay on him.

Kain felt the build of magic around her, then realized her mouth was moving soundlessly, casting too quietly for him to hear. As the Cure spell rippled through her, Kain watched as the blood flowing from her back gradually stopped, the open gashes reluctantly sealing closed.

“That’s my girl,” Kain murmured encouragingly, pulling her into his arms, Rosa going willingly. She collapsed against him; her body was suddenly boneless, unable to hold herself up any longer. He saw her eyes roll up again, and knew she swooned from sheer exhaustion, having spent all her stamina and magical reserves. He caught her and eased her carefully back down to the ground. He was relieved to see her chest steadily rising and falling with each breath.

Leaving Rosa to uneasily rest, Kain walked up and down the line of the fire barrier, considering it. He could attempt to use the Ice Rod but wondered at the wisdom of it. Rosa couldn’t move yet, and at least the fire kept them protected from any wandering monsters from the nearby forest and provided heat and light. With any luck, it would also deter the undead from the mountain, if Kain and Rosa could be quiet enough not to tempt any again.

Kain set up the bedroll and carried Rosa to it, settling her as carefully as he could, mindful of her still-healing wounds. He attempted to clean the blood from her back and shoulder, but found with the dirty bandages, he only made things worse.

 Lance in hand, Kai took a defensive position in front of Rosa, daring any monster to come close.

Alone except for his worries and anxieties, Kain waited.

Hours passed, the sun continuing to move toward the western horizon, threatening another night in this terrible place. Kain alternated between watching Rosa and the mountain before them, both with worried eyes, not sure what to expect from either.

He struggled most with his intense guilt, for failing to meet any of his many promises, to Cecil, to the King, to Rosa, and most importantly, to his own father, to be a good man. He couldn’t protect Rosa the way she needed him to, the way Cecil had asked him to – the way Cecil would if he were here himself.

Kain watched Rosa’s now steady breathing, remembering how delicate and frail her breath seemed in her chest when he thought she might not draw another. He knew, objectively, that this was the same woman who had stood between him and danger, protecting him from the onslaught of undead, wreathed in holy magic and fury. But now, watching her, the steady rise and fall of her chest, her uniform torn and bloody, her brow knit with tension as she uneasily slept – he found could not reconcile two conflicting images of Rosa.

Kain worried what was next to come; Cecil’s waiting disappointment at Kain’s failure to protect Rosa, from the dangers of the mountain and from his own greedy grasping. What would Rosa’s life be like if she and Kain were together? Could he ever truly protect her, even if they were on the same missions? And how different her life might be if she were with Cecil instead, who could elevate her to Queen, keeping her safe and protected within the might of Baron. What could Kain ever offer that wouldn’t pale in comparison?

How you feel right now might not be how you feel when we step off this mountain, Rosa had told him, knowing Kain’s conflicted heart better than he realized.

Eventually, finally, miraculously, Rosa stirred, groaning as she did. Kain went to her, watching her with concern until she opened her eyes.

“I feel like hell,” she said, her voice hoarse, but the sound of it was a balm to Kain’s worry.

“You look like hell too,” Kain remarked, gesturing to her back. “But you’re alive,” he added, grinning despite himself.

Rosa, seeing his expression, smiled herself. “I guess we both are.”

In the distance, on the other side of the fire barrier, a familiar voice called out, “Rosa! Kain!”

“Cecil!?” Rosa and Kain exclaimed at the same time, looking at each other in stunned surprise, Kain’s heart skipping a beat. Rosa scrambled to get the Ice Rod from the bag, but Kain’s hand on her wrist stopped her. She looked up at him, confused.

“When the barrier comes down,” Kain said softly, “Cecil will be there waiting for you.” Kain hesitated as he looked over her; she still looked so fragile, pale from her blood loss, still magically drained and spent. His heart twisted in his chest, with guilt for how he didn’t protect her, regret for his own selfishness, and in fear of what he was about to do. “You should go to him.”

“What?!” Rosa asked, sharp in disbelief.

“You’re right,” Kain continued, trying not to let his emotion bleed into his words, but sounding strangled, nevertheless. “I’m stepping off this mountain and my feelings have changed. Be with Cecil. He’s the better man for you.”

“Rosa!” Cecil shouted over the flames, his desperation and want like a knife to Kain’s guts.

“Don’t do this to me,” Rosa pleaded, her eyes filling with tears. “Kain, please. I love you.”

“You love him too,” Kain insisted, trying to ignore the pain in her voice, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to look at her. “And so do I,” Kain admitted, finally putting oxygen to the secret he’d carried with him from the day he’d met Cecil. “This is what’s best for all of us,” he said, opening his eyes again, blinking away his own tears.

“I’m picking you, why can’t you pick me?” Rosa demanded, crying openly now. “For once, pick me.”

“KAIN!” Cecil shouted, eliminating any further doubt Kain had about his decision.

Kain took the Ice Rod from the bag, pushing it into Rosa’s hands. “Use it.”

“Don’t....” Rosa begged, full of anguish.

“Use it!” Kain yelled, surprised by the sudden surge of anger, deep within him. Why was she making this harder than it had to be?

Startled, Rosa jumped back, her sorrow and despair quicky replaced with her own anger; her brow furrowed, her mouth creased in a thin frown. “I hope you remember this is what you wanted,” she said, the words tight in her throat as she pointed the Ice Rod at the fire barrier.

A Blizzard spell exploded around the fire, effectively dousing it, sending drifting smoke up into the sky.

On the other side stood Cecil and several Red Wings soldiers behind him. The visor of Cecil’s helm was pushed back, revealing his face and his wide-eyed relief. “You’re both safe!” he cried out in joy. He started toward Rosa, startling her as he engulfed her in a sudden embrace. “When I thought you might be...” Cecil hesitated, unable to finish the dreadful thought. “There are so many things I regret not saying, not doing, not telling you...”

“Cecil, I...” Rosa started to say, but Cecil cut her off as he kissed her, mistaking the tears on her cheeks for relief and joy. The Red Wings soldiers cheered behind them, and Kain knew this was the start of their fairy tale romance, made bigger and grander as the tale of their tender reunion spread through Baron.

This was both what he wanted and dreaded, Kain realized, paralyzed by both sides of his selfish heart. Kain looked aside, unable to bear the sight of them together any longer.

Unfortunately for Kain, it would be the first of many.

Chapter Text

The ship was half a day’s journey away by foot. En route, Cecil explained the events of the past few days, since Kain had made the fateful Jump from the Bloodletter. The ship had indeed crashed, and while Cecil had been vague about the details, by the quiet looks exchanged by the other Red Wings soldiers, Kain guessed it was much more serious than Cecil was saying.

It was Rosa who cut through to the heart of the matter, quietly asking, “How many casualties?” She’d waved off Cecil’s fussing about her injuries but did take the offered cloak from one of the crew, covering the shredded back of her tunic from sight. If she struggled to keep up with their brisk pace through the forest, she gave no sign or complaint.

“Ten or so injured, a few critical but no deaths. The Mysidian rescue stabilized the wounded and were readying them for transport.” Cecil answered with a relieved sigh, then continued more somberly, “But the ship is destroyed. Cid and King Odin are going to have my head.”

“We’re lucky to be alive,” one of the Red Wings soldiers said, who walked beside them. “Without you at the wheel, the whole crew would have gone down too.” He looked to the side at Kain and Rosa, wide-eyed. “Somehow, he managed to bring the ship down into the trees tops, which caught the hull and slowed the ship down enough so it could hit the ground without crashing at full speed.”

“You did that?” Kain asked, incredulously, looking aside to Cecil, who sheepishly grinned.

“I’m going to help scout,” Rosa said at the same time, frowning.  With her bow in hand, Rosa hurried ahead to join the Red Wings soldiers who led their party through Mount Ordeals Forest.

“I fear I overstepped with her,” Cecil said glumly as he watched Rosa leave. The soldier hurried ahead a few paces, graciously allowing them privacy. “And you,” Cecil added, looking back to Kain, walking side by side together. “By putting you in such a dangerous predicament and asking so much of you.”

Can you do this? Cecil asked again in Kain’s memories, this time accusatory.

If only you knew all I had done, Kain thought, but instead shook his head. “Rosa just needs time. Our time on Mount Ordeals was...” Magical? Breathtaking? Wonderous? suggested one part of his heart. Disloyal? Shameful? Selfish? whispered another. “...difficult.”

“I see,” Cecil said. “And you?” he asked, almost too quiet to hear. He kept his gaze trained steadfastly ahead, refusing to glance Kain’s way. “Last we spoke, I told you I would not court Rosa. But seeing her again, I was so overwhelmed--”

Kain, overwhelmed by Rosa and her closeness, her arms reaching for him and pulling him in, until he thought he would drown in the feeling of her--

“--by my feelings, the words just tumbled out, and I couldn’t help but...”

Couldn’t help but shudder when she clutched at him, her breathy sighs on his neck; Kain seized by the possessive thought: she’s mine... mine... mine...

“...want to know if her heart matched mine. I’m... sorry,” Cecil finished, risking a glance back aside to Kain now, his eyes full of worry.

Rosa’s eyes, full of surprise and wonder; begging for some intangible, wordless thing, gasping out his name--

“Kain?” Cecil asked, his concern deepening.

Kain shook his head, blinking hard to dispel the mental image of Rosa beneath him, skin white in the moonlight, greedily grasping him in every way she could. “You are not wrong to follow your heart,” Kain swallowed hard, fighting to keep his voice neutral. “It’s been a rough few days for Rosa, of endless battles and worries. Give her time to cool down and gather her thoughts.”

And me as well, Kain thought, shamed by his inability to keep his mind clear.

“You think so?” Cecil asked, barely daring to hope.

“She loves you,” Kain said, remembering the shape of the words I love you on Rosa’s mouth as she shouted at him beside the fire wall, now sounding accusatory. He pushed that memory aside. “But you know how Rosa gets focused. Once the mission is over and we’re back in Baron, then try again and see how she responds.”

“And you, Kain?” Cecil stopped abruptly, catching Kain’s arm to halt him as well. “How do you feel about this, truly?”

Kain had nowhere to look but to meet Cecil’s serious gaze and for one paralyzing second, Kain thought Cecil would see the truth in him, with all Kain’s messy desires and forbidden longings on vulnerable display. But Cecil said nothing, only waited, with no apparent judgment in his gray eyes.

“I am happy for you both,” Kain said evenly. When Cecil’s expression did not change, waiting for more, Kain cleared his throat and continued, “I was a child clinging to yesterday and how things used to be. You two are my dearest friends and I am glad you found each other.” Then, belatedly added, “Brother.”

For a terrible moment longer, Cecil maintained the neutral look, and Kain internally floundered, unsure of how else he could convincingly lie to both Cecil and himself. But then Cecil smiled, and it was like the night shadows parting for the moon’s shining presence.

“Thank you, brother,” Cecil said, then turned and started walking again, though his smile lingered on.

Kain, as always, followed.

After rejoining the rest of the crew and the Mysidian rescue team at the crash site, they made their gradual way back to Mysidia. Each night, Kain had vague dreams of someone trying to tell him something but could never remember the details upon waking.

Rosa tried to find a way to speak to Kain, but there was little privacy in a military camp, and Kain made sure there was no opportunity for her to be alone with him. She watched him with sad eyes that Kain desperately tried to avoid.

Cecil’s initial joy at their reunion quickly wore away into worry at Rosa and Kain’s disquieting silence, watching them both with increasing apprehension.

“Are you truly well?” Cecil asked one night in the forest, pulling Kain aside for a quiet word. “You both seem so troubled.”

“We are both weary,” Kain replied, trying to muster up a smile as he added, “It will be better when we are back in Baron and rested.”

“Of course,” Cecil said, some of the tension going out of him. Kain was both grateful and dismayed at how easily Cecil believed him. 

After a night of fitful rest in Mysidia, they made the draining journey through the Devil’s Road and back into Baron. Kain and Cecil left Rosa at her house, departing with a subdued goodbye. Joanna met Rosa at the door, pulling Rosa into a tight embrace, fresh tears of gratitude streaming down her cheeks.

Any questions Kain had for Joanna, prompted by his strange dreams on Mount Ordeals, were forgotten; the display of maternal affection seemed alien and off putting to Kain.

Kain’s feet felt heavy as he trudged up to the Baron castle. Cecil, dutiful as ever, went first to report to King Odin. Alone at last, Kain dragged himself up the stairs of the tower to his room. Once inside, he wearily took off his heavy armor, leaving each piece haphazardly strewn on the floor.

Although it was only late morning, Kain crawled into his bed, pulled his bedcovers up over his head, and tried to pretend nothing in his world had changed. It did not take long for his mental and physical exhaustion to catch up to him, pulling him down to sleep.

To his eternal relief, he did not dream.

Kain woke to Cecil knocking at his door, insisting that Kain hurry up and get dressed so they could go into town and celebrate.

“All of the Red Wings will be there,” Cecil told him, impatiently pacing back and forth as Kain dressed himself. “We must go. You and Rosa surviving on Mount Ordeals is all anyone can talk about. And most importantly,” Cecil stopped his pacing abruptly, looking lost and unsure as he spoke, “Rosa will be there, too, and I don’t know how to act around her anymore. Do I pretend nothing happened? Do I ask her directly? Do I just kiss her again and see what happens?”

The onslaught of Cecil’s rapid questions left Kain feeling raw and exposed. The unfairness of the situation tore at him, despite knowing that he had caused it himself. For Cecil, he reminded himself, because what Cecil wanted was important above all else.

“Just be yourself,” Kain finally answered. “When the moment feels right, do whatever your heart compels you to say or do. If Rosa feels the same, she’ll tell you.” Or show you, Kain thought, hating himself for knowing exactly what that looked like.

Cecil seized Kain in a sudden embrace, hugging Kain tightly. “Thank you, brother. For everything.”

Kain said nothing, any possible words drowned out by a fresh wave of both guilt and relief.

Baron was fond of its romantic tales of heroism and became eagerly enthralled with the new story of survival and tenacity. How Rosa been tossed from the ship and Kain followed without hesitation; how Rosa had climbed down a mountain of death, protected by her dearest friend; how Cecil had saved the crew and then braved the Mount Ordeals Forest to rescue them both; and how Kain had fought through endless battles to bring Rosa back to Cecil.

Inside the Inn was a roar of activity and drink, packed mostly Red Wings soldiers, a few Dragoons, and townsfolk. Cecil and Kain were welcomed with a cheer and had drinks promptly bought for them. In fact, as the evening progressed, Kain found he never had an empty mug for long.

Rosa’s arrival only encouraged more drinking for Kain, trying to forget so many things that she stirred in him. Cecil, however, was suddenly lit from within in her presence, unable to stop smiling, his eyes never leaving her face. Cecil’s obvious affection for Rosa was a terrible relief – Kain knew they would be happy together and that this was the best outcome for all, but seeing it happen in front of him made his heart ache. Maybe, Kain hoped, once they were together and finally out of reach, his jealous longing for both would finally die.

Kain was pressed for details about the adventure on Mount Ordeals but deferred the questions with a shrug. “It was dreary and full of the undead. Not much more to say about it.”

Rosa, too, was tight-lipped about the experience. “It was much like my training,” she said, dismissing the feat of their survival as if it were routine and dull. As the evening went on, whenever Cecil was distracted by another conversation or getting fresh drinks from the bar, she’d watch Kain openly. She said nothing to him but did not have to; he read the misery plainly on her face.

At some point, the weight of Rosa’s disappointment became too much to withstand. “I need air,” Kain declared suddenly, standing only with a slight wobble. Willing himself to steadiness, he made his way out of the Inn.

Outside, the cool night air was a much-needed relief, along with the relative quiet, as compared to the chaotic mix of conversations inside. Kain threaded his way through the small group of people gathered by the door, walking around to privacy of the side of the building. There, in the Inn’s shadow, Kain leaned against the wall and just breathed deeply; he hadn’t realized quite how drunk he was until now.

A wave of dizziness seized him, making the world tilt awkwardly back and forth. The effect made his stomach flip. Kain eased himself down to the ground, telling himself he only needed to sit down for a moment.

What would happen while he was gone? Kain wondered, imagining Cecil might seize the moment without Kain present, finally telling Rosa his feelings. Would she reciprocate? Jealousy gripped him tightly, threatening to crowd out all other thoughts.

No, Kain admonished himself, pushing down the anxiety of them together. Instead, he turned his mind to his strange dreams, drunkenly reassembling them in his mind, trying to comb through for a clue he may have missed.

He would have lingered there most of the night, content in his inebriated stupor, but he heard footsteps, and looked up to see Albert approaching.

“Albert!” Kain called out with surprised joy, slightly louder than he intended.

“There you are,” Albert said with palpable relief. “I was worried when you disappeared.” He offered a hand and Kain took it, leveraging himself up to his feet.

The world tilted again, sending Kain stumbling, making his stomach flip uneasily. His stomach continued to churn and his mouth suddenly watered. He leaned over, hands braced on his knees, and vomited; the alcohol burned his throat and nose on its way back up. 

Albert was beside Kain, holding his hair back, patting his back lightly as Kain fully emptied the contents of his stomach. Kain wondered if Albert had ever done the same for Richard, or vice versa. Had they been friends, close enough to share a secret?

“I need to ask you something,” Kain said as he straightened, wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve. He leaned back against the wall, letting it support him. “It is a strange question, but please answer it anyway.” Kain tried to stand perfectly still, not wanting to risk dizziness again. When he felt steady, he looked up at Albert and asked, “Did my mother have an accent? Was she from Baron?”

Albert blinked in surprise, obviously not expecting this line of questioning. “Yes, she had an accent. She was from Troia originally – King Odin recruited her personally.”

“Recruited?” Kain asked, not understanding.

Albert’s face softened in pity. “Did Richard not tell you?” When Kain shook his head, Albert sighed, then continued, “Your mother was a knight. An especially skilled one, too.”

Kain’s world spun again, sending his head into a dizzy whirl.  The dream-detail of his mother’s accent seemed too eerie to be a coincidence. Could the dreams truly have been real? He had been going back and forth on whether he believed them or not, and the possible confirmation seemed suddenly overwhelming.

Kain drew in a steadying breath, then asked, “One day in the castle halls, you and Roland came upon Joanna and my father in a confrontation of sorts. Did you ever learn what happened to make him so angry?”

“How do you know this?” Albert asked in a low voice.

“I had strange dreams while on Mount Ordeals. I think my parents are trying to tell me something, I just don’t know what.” Kain opened his eyes again, to see Albert standing there, his face gone pale. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Albert replied, and then at Kain’s immediate scowl, spoke again, “Truly, I do not know for certain. But I will tell you what I know. You deserve that much.” Albert paused, but Kain only waited expectantly for Albert to continue. Albert seemed to decide something, nodding slightly to himself. “I think it started with your mother.”

“My mother?” Kain asked, surprised. “But she would have been dead for years.”

“I only have pieces. It’ll be up to you to put them together in a way that makes sense.” Albert paused for a thoughtful moment, then asked, “Did Richard ever tell you about their courtship?”

Kain shook his head. “He never spoke of her. And I never thought to ask.”

“Before Elena came to Baron, Joanna, Roland, and Richard were all close friends. There was a lot of gossip about both trying to court her. Richard never said anything to me or anyone, but he obviously pined for her. But then Elena arrived in Baron, and…” Albert hesitated, his gaze distant as he smiled in memory. “Elena was an incredible woman. Not just beautiful but smart and formidable on the battlefield. It was easy to forget about other women when she was around, and Richard was no exception. He courted her with a tenacity like no other, and ultimately won her hand.”

“And Joanna was left with Roland as a consolation prize?” Kain prompted when Albert had gone quiet.

“Perhaps,” Albert said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “And then, when Elena…” he paused, considering Kain closely. “What do you know about your mother’s death?”

“Only that she was weakened from blood loss and a passing illness took her after my birth,” Kain replied uncertainly, not sure where this was going.

Albert looked confused, then understanding softened the expression into pity. “Is that what Richard told you?” he asked quietly.

“What happened to my mother?” Kain closed his eyes again, trying to ward off a new wave of dizziness.

“Kain, I’m sorry,” Albert’s voice was closer, speaking gently. “She killed herself.”

Shock hit Kain hard; eyes still closed, trying not to fall over, he braced an arm against the wall for support. He felt his mouth watering again and tried to swallow down the urge to vomit. “But...” he started to ask but found no words to follow.

“I don’t know why,” Albert said, answering the question Kain was unable to ask. “And neither did Richard. They were both excelling in their careers. They just had you and were enthralled. Their marriage seemed happy.”

“Seemed?” Kain prompted, straightening himself back up to a full stand. He thought back to his dreams at Mount Ordeals and all that he knew about his father and Joanna. With a sudden clarity that only possesses the very drunk, all the irregular pieces finally seemed to fit together. “Did Joanna and my father have an affair and my mother found out?” he asked, only slightly slurring his words.

Kain thought then of the box Elena had held, and whatever within that had caused her such anger. Had Kain ever seen that box, or any of his mother’s things? Had Richard not looked through her belongings until a decade had passed, and what had he discovered that made him so furious with Joanna?

“Then...” inspired by the idea, Kain spoke quickly. “My father somehow finds out, years later, that his affair with Joanna is what caused his wife to...” Kain trailed off, unable to finish the thought. He shook his head, then continued more subdued. “And he blames Joanna. Is it possible?”

“It’s possible. It’s what I have long suspected but never confirmed,” Albert admitted quietly. “Do you really want to poke at this, Kain? You can be your own man, unburdened by the secrets of your parents. Make your own legacy instead of following another’s.”

For a moment, Kain wondered why this was so important. He tried to tell himself that uncovering this secret wasn’t just a distraction from the complicated triangle that was his currently imploding love life. Instead, it was his father’s legacy that was what had always propelled him forward, always with the aim of being more like Richard. Would confirming Richard’s possible moral failings help Kain accept his own?

Kain’s head swam, spinning circles between his ears. He drew in a breath to try and steady himself; some of the blurriness left his vision. “I need to know,” he said on a shaky exhale.

“Then go to the Highwind estate,” Albert offered. “Your house in Baron was rented. All of Richard and Elena’s belongings would have been sent there for storage. If there are answers for you in the past, you should start there.”

It had never occurred to Kain to visit the Highwind estate. His life had always been in Baron. He left the management of the property to the castle’s steward, who sent Kain regular updates on the state of the accounts. Kain never bothered to read them.

Kain had more questions for Albert, but a moving shadow on the ground warned them of an approaching figure. Kain turned to see Rosa and was equal parts elated and miserable at the sight of her.

“Kain? Did you drink yourself sick?” Rosa asked, full of concern, coming closer to him.

“M’all right,” Kain mumbled in reply. Then, determined not to let his guard down, took his own step back. “Stay back,” he warned her.

“We need to talk,” Rosa said, sounding desperate. “Before this gets anymore out of hand. Before Cecil tries to—oh!” She stopped abruptly, having only just spotted Albert on the other side of Kain.

“My apologies, Miss Farrell,” Albert said with a quick bow. “I was just leaving.”

“Albert, wait--” Kain protested, not trusting himself to be alone with Rosa. He remembered Albert from years prior, angry and scolding him in the armory. Kain felt a pang of nostalgia for the memory, wishing that version of Albert could step in again and save Kain from himself. Albert, this time, was swiftly gone and Kain was no longer a child to be protected, but a grown adult to face his own problems.

“There is nothing to talk about,” Kain said, trying to keep his voice even and steady, free from slurring. “Do not make this harder than it has to be.”

“It’s not too late,” Rosa said, taking an uncertain step toward him. “We can tell Cecil the truth. He may hurt for a while, but he’ll eventually understand.” She reached out and took his hand in hers; he did not fight her, liking the feel of her soft skin against his. “Please,” Rosa pleaded, peering up at him.

Kain’s back met the wall, and he could distance himself no further. “You love us both, but Cecil is the better man for you. He will make you a queen. He will always be better than me. Your heart will tell you the same.”

“It is not just my heart that wants you,” Rosa confessed in a whisper. “But everything in me. Didn’t I show you that?” The melancholy in her voice made Kain’s heart ache with guilt. “I told you that one night would be enough for me, but I was wrong. And so are you.”

When she started to lean toward him, Kain held her by both shoulders, keeping her at literal arm’s length. “Don’t,” Kain said, thinking he might vomit again. Then, remembering earlier, he added, “Don't get too close. I just threw up.”

Rosa looked visibly disappointed, her shoulders deflating as she stepped back from him.

“We should go back in,” Kain said, trying to force a smile, needing to pretend this could all work out. “Cecil will be worried by now.”

Rosa sighed, then wordlessly turned around, walking off back around the corner to the Inn’s front door. Kain followed, feeling a bit more stable and clearheaded than before, the conversation effectively sobering him.

Inside, Cecil was waiting, looking worried and then relieved when he spotted them both. Across the table from him sat a pretty brunette, who smiled widely at Kain when he approached. It took Kain’s slow mind a moment to place her --

Marion, one of the girls in class, Rosa reminded him from his memory, a ghost of her childhood self, She was asking me all sorts of questions about you, and I realized, she likes you, and I got this feeling.

Kain gave Marion an awkward smile and she seemed to interpret that positively, shifting down the bench to make room. “Come sit with me, Kain,” Marion insisted, patting the space beside her. “And tell me all about that daring jump from the airship.”

Before Kain could respond, Rosa blurted out, “He broke his legs, you know.”

Marion openly looked Kain up and down as he stood there, assessing him carefully. “Looks well healed to me,” she said with a shrug.

Rosa’s jaw was tight with tension, and as she opened her mouth to retort, Cecil spoke over her, “Why don’t you two go get drinks?” Cecil suggested, looking between Kain and Marion. “I’d... like to talk to Rosa, for a moment.”

“Great idea,” Marion said, already standing up.

Kain followed, but with one glance back saw Cecil take Rosa’s hand in his. “I just wanted to say...” Kain heard Cecil start, before the crowd around them drowned out the rest. Kain turned back and continued to follow Marion to the bar.

There, with new drinks in hand, Kain and Marion sat side by side on stools, chatting back and forth, often having to lean in close to be heard. Marion asked him about Mount Ordeals, and Kain found himself answering honestly. He described the despair of the place and how dead carried so much anger and pain in them. The alcohol seemed to loosen his tongue, enough for the truth to bleed out.

At some point, Marion leaned in closer again, as they had been. “I was thinking...” she murmured, quietly enough that Kain shifted closer himself to hear her. “...that you should test out your legs, before your next Jump.”

“And how would I do that?” Kain asked, genuinely not getting her meaning.

“I could think of a few ways,” Marion remarked as she reached casually down, placing her hand high on Kain’s thigh. “Can you?” she asked, giving him a coy smile as she lightly squeezed.

It took him a sluggish moment longer, but then understanding washed over him. “A few,” he repeated back at her, feeling suddenly awkward and ungainly, his voice feeling thick in his throat.

“I have a room upstairs,” Marion said, withdrawing her hand. “If you want,” she added, trying to sound casual and light.

Kain looked aside, back at Rosa and Cecil at their table. Cecil was talking animatedly, while Rosa looked on with a smile. It was that smile, Kain realized, the one that had been his first, and now would only be for Cecil.

“I do,” Kain said as he returned his attention back to Marion and found he did. It was a welcome distraction, he told himself, with no ulterior motive in mind, no secret desire to see Rosa burning with hurt and jealousy as Kain always did. Taking Kain’s hand in hers, Marion led him through the crowded Inn, then toward the stairs to the second floor.

It was as they approached the stairs that Kain risked a glance back at Rosa, and found her watching him, his betrayal reflected in her sad eyes. She shook her head slowly, mouthing the word, Don’t, then, Please.

Kain looked away, staring at his feet as he climbed the stairs.

This is for the best, Kain told himself, unsure if he would ever really believe it.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Kain awoke to an empty bed, though the spot was still warm beside him. He looked up to see Marion dressing, fixing her dress back into place. She smiled at him, then started pulling her hair to the side, fingers combing through to neaten the strands.  

“I have to go,” Marion said with regret. “But stay awhile longer, I have the room for a few more hours. Besides,” she said with quick grin, “You should rest.” 

Kain immediately blushed, looking aside. He cleared his throat with a cough, then asked, “Will I see you again?” 

Marion paused; her fingers tangled in her hair. “Do you want to?” she asked, with some surprise. “I thought that...” she hesitated, then finished twisting her hair into a bun off the back of her neck. “Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.” 

“No,” Kain said, sitting up. He pulled the sheet with him to cover himself, suddenly self-conscious. “What did you think?” 

Marion crossed her arms over her chest, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re obviously in love with Rosa,” she said quietly, looking aside from Kain. “Everyone knows it.” 

“I am not,” Kain protested weakly, knowing the lie as he said it. 

Marion shrugged, to appear like she did not care. “It doesn’t matter if you are or aren’t. I’m not asking anything of you. But if you’d like to see me again, then I’d like that too.” She paused, thoughtfully considering him, then added, “I don’t have any expectations.” 

It seemed so odd to Kain. His whole life had been defined by others’ expectations of him and how he should act or would act. Everyone wanted something from him, and he felt incapable of offering anything to anyone. Marion was asking only for the present; Kain wondered if he could be content with that. 

“I’m leaving today to visit my family’s estate for a few days. Come with me?” Kain asked, full of impulsive enthusiasm. 

Marion looked surprised again, but sadly shook her head. “I wish I could go, but I can’t leave the shop this week.” She frowned. “Can I see you when I get back?” 

“Yes,” Kain agreed easily. Around Marion, he found it easy to set aside thoughts of Rosa and Cecil, both apart and together. Perhaps on this trip, he could use the time and space to get some perspective on the situation, and then enduring their budding romance would not be so torturous.  

Making hasty arrangements, Kain was ready to depart Baron that mid-morning, taking with him only a small bag, astride a chocobo. He thought his speed would ensure that no one would have time to realize and follow.  

Kain was both dismayed and relieved to see Rosa and Cecil waiting for him at the town’s front gate, holding the reigns of their own saddled chocobos. 

“Ready?” Cecil asked brightly. At Kain’s confused look, he added, “Albert told us you’d be leaving and asked us to keep an eye on you.” 

“You are coming with me?” Kain asked, incredulous at both Albert’s thoughtfulness, and Rosa and Cecil’s eagerness. Kain looked uncertainly at Rosa and asked her directly, “Both of you?” 

“Of course,” Rosa said, the words only a little tight from her stiff jaw. “Why wouldn’t we?” Her eyes narrowed, just slightly, daring him to contradict her in front of Cecil. Kain said nothing but found himself smiling regardless.  

“Let’s go,” Cecil said, pulling himself up onto his chocobo. “I checked the maps. If we leave now, we can arrive by late afternoon.” 

“I brought food for the road, but hopefully there’s accommodations for us at Highwind Manor,” Rosa said next, also climbing up into the saddle. 

And just like that, they had fallen back into their childhood roles, with Cecil taking charge and Rosa being resourceful. Together, they would help Kain do what he needed to do. 

Kain followed, mounting his own chocobo, and fell in line behind them both as they left Baron. 

The Highwind estate was northeast of Baron. It was situated in a large valley between two towering hills in Baron’s highlands. Below, an immense orchard with orderly rows of trees filled the valley. The swirling wind overhead carried with it the perfume of whatever fruit was currently in season and blooming, sending out waves of fruity scent throughout the surrounding lands. Currently between summer and fall, the current crop was apples, giving the air a taste both sweet and tart, depending on direction of the breeze. 

It was this unique characteristic that gave the area its name, Highwind, and then on to the family who first established themselves here generations prior. The estate generated a tidy profit every year from their fruit and related products sales. Kain had never had any interest in running the orchard, having been like his father and too interested in his own career. The estate would be waiting on Kain when he was older, and perhaps then he would have a child or spouse interested in running it. For now, it was in the hands of more competent people than him.  

The manor on the property was not grand as actual nobility, but still larger than Kain had expected. Richard had been a Sir via his military title and was not a Lord of any rank as Cecil was, but still, the property was impressive and well-cared for. Highwind Manor was surrounded by blooming bushes of fragrant flowers in a riot of soft pastel colors that made it look like a painting. A large staircase preceded the front door, its railing threaded with flowered garlands.  

Rosa, Cecil, and Kain came to a stop in front of the manor. Rosa dismounted first, taking a few steps toward the building, considering it with a thoughtful tilt of her head. 

“Kain,” she said breathlessly, glancing back at him. “It’s beautiful. Why haven’t you visited?” 

“I never thought to,” Kain answered honestly, sliding down off the chocobo’s back, overwhelmed by the magnitude. In the distance, he could see countless rows of trees, dotted with reds and pinks of every color. Beside the manor was an attached stable house, from which a young man hurried toward them. 

At the same time, a smartly dressed, older man descended the stairs. He paused, looking surprised at the three young people. But he mastered his mask quicky, offering a practiced smile, and continued down to meet them at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Are you here for a tour? Or to stay? I’m not sure if we have any open rooms, but I can check—” He stopped suddenly, his gaze falling on Kain. The rehearsed smile faded with a vague recognition in his eyes. “Are you…” he started to ask, stepping closer to Kain, looking him over. Then, the man smiled again, though this was one genuine and reached his eyes, softening them with affection. “Kain,” the man said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You look so much like your mother.” 

“I do?” Kain asked, perplexed. He’d only seen vague images of his mother through his odd dreams. He seemed so unlike her from what impression he had, with her dark hair and eyes. Kain had always imagined himself looking like his father and was surprised to hear otherwise. “Really?” 

The man gestured vaguely at his own face. “The shape of your eyes and nose. Your whole face reminds me of her, really, though your coloring is...” he hesitated, then shook his head. “.. from your father’s side, no doubt.” 

Kain stood up a little taller, the knowledge somehow bolstering him. He had never known his mother and had never felt driven to, but now he was learning Elena had been a whole person of her own, and that fact somehow surprised him. “Did you know her well?” Kain asked, full of a new hunger to know more. 

“I did.” The man’s smile turned bittersweet, then he offered a quick bow. “Forgive me, Master Highwind, I’ve forgotten my manners. My name is Jon Westcott, and I’ve been managing your estate for the last twenty years. I was not expecting you but stay a few days and I’ll arrange for you to see the grounds and be informed of the estate’s current happenings.” 

Jon looked over Kain and his friends once more, shaking his head with a small laugh. “But you’re not here for that, are you? You have same serious look your mother had when she was on a mission.” He turned, gesturing for them to follow. “Leave the chocobos and the bags. I’ll have them taken care of. Follow me and you can tell me why you’re here.” 

In a line, they followed Jon into the grand house, which opened into a large foyer, a winding staircase leading upward. “I’ll give you a formal tour later,” Jon said he led them up the staircase. “But I see many questions in your eyes and your eagerness to ask them. Get cleaned up from the road, I’ll arrange for a meal, and we can discuss everything then.” 

At the top, Jon unlocked the door with a key from his pocket, then led them inside. It opened into a large receiving room, with chairs gathered around a low table beside the room’s hearth, creating a cozy atmosphere to welcome guests. Kain was surprised to find himself immediately at ease. From this room, several doors led off into other parts of the sprawling upstairs. 

“This is the owner’s suite,” Jon explained, as he moved around, unlocking each door. “This is the lady’s quarters,” he said, leaving one door open. “With clothing for the young miss in the wardrobe, if you require it.” He moved on to the next. “You’ll find Richard’s wardrobe in there.” He circled back to the entrance. “I’ll have food brought up shortly and we can discuss why you’re here and how I can assist. Is that agreeable to you, Master Highwind?” 

Jon was a babble of energy, despite his age. Kain felt overwhelmed by both the environment and the information dumped on him. He could only mutely nod in reply. Jon, perhaps used to similar stoicism from Elena, seemed to accept this as answer enough and quickly ducked out. 

“Is all of this yours?” Rosa asked in awe. Like most Baron soldiers, Rosa and her family had come from the working class and had no family fortune to fall back on should their military careers not work out. This kind of wealth had always been abstract to Kain; as a ward of the crown, he had never been denied a resource he needed for his growth or education. 

“I guess so,” Kain said as he circled the room, peering through each open door, trying to guess how large the upstairs was. A private dining room was off one room; a study packed wall to wall with books through another; three separate bedrooms; then a private balcony, overlooking the sprawling orchard in the valley. The gravity of his situation slowly settled on him, making him then wonder – 

“The Harvey estate,” Kain said suddenly, turning to face Cecil, who was peering curiously into the study. “Is it bigger?” Kain asked, already knowing the answer to his jealous question.  

Cecil knew it too, in the way that he suddenly went still, afraid to even inhale too deeply as he navigated this thorny issue in their friendship. “It is,” he said, sounding resigned, as if he had been waiting for the issue of his nobility to become an issue eventually; it had been something Cecil had always worried about as a child, and now Kain knew the worry had never left him.  

“Part of the lands include fertile fishing grounds off of the coast,” Cecil added by way of explanation; the fishing industry was huge in Baron and most coastal lands were owned by the very wealthy. It told Kain everything he needed to know about the differences in their social classes and how Cecil would always be better than him.  

“Immensely wealthy or not,” Rosa remarked with a soft sighing exhale and a dreamy, faraway look. “This place is lovely. You’re lucky to have it.”  

Cecil nodded in agreement to Rosa, but still watched Kain carefully for a reaction. 

It wasn’t the property, status, or even the wealth that mattered, Kain realized with dismay; he had never cared about those things before and didn’t truly care now. But it was yet another way in which Cecil was better than Kain, and had been all along, even without Kain realizing it. Kain’s impossible affection for Cecil hadn’t tempered their rivalry, perhaps only fueled it, and Kain found he resented Cecil with the same passion that he…  

Kain blinked hard, dispelling the thought. No, he told himself. It was time to move from that , from Rosa, from Cecil even. He would find the answers in his mother’s things and learn who he really was.  

Kain looked around again. There was a specific coziness and comfort to this place that put his entire being at ease. He wondered if that was why his mother liked it so much, and why Richard refused to return, unable to be at peace here anymore without Elena.  

“I am,” Kain finally agreed. The tension in Cecil relaxed, sensing their potential conflict had passed without incident.  

Kain, Cecil, and Rosa cleaned themselves up from their long trip and found old but clean clothing in Kain’s parents’ things. It seemed odd at first, to be going through Richard’s clothing, but Kain reminded himself that it was his now and up to him to make best use of it.  

Feeling refreshed and dressed in practical but well-made trousers and a shirt, Kain emerged from the master bedroom. He could hear Jon in the adjacent dining room, already bustling around to set up their meal. Rosa sat on a couch beside the unlit hearth, wearing fitted breeches and a loose tunic. It was strange, Kain realized, because her borrowed men’s clothing was usually ill-fitting on her, but this seemed made specifically for a woman’s shape rather than a man’s, fitting Rosa well.  

My mother’s clothing, he reminded himself; Elena must have made it custom made for herself. Kain was slowly assembling a new picture of his mother, where a blank had always been. 

Cecil was dressed similarly to Kain, also in Richard’s clothing. It seemed funny to Kain, as they gathered around the dining room table, unsure of the expected formality, all three hesitant; they wore his parents’ clothing like children playacting as adults. 

“Relax,” Jon said, sensing their trepidation. “I know you are soldiers. Do not stand on ceremony for my sake,” he gestured to the chairs, and the three sat down, slightly less tense. Jon began passing food around, and all three relaxed as they filled their plates. It was quiet for a long while as they ate, hungrier than any of them had realized. 

When they finally slowed down, no longer eating with a soldier’s efficiency but more leisurely, Jon spoke, “So what task brings you here finally? I did hope your return meant you were ready to take part in running the estate, but I sense a different purpose.” 

“I’m looking for something of my mother’s,” Kain said, feeling suddenly foolish about the whole thing. It would be here that would prove his dreams false finally, when he found that no box of clues ever existed. When Jon waited for Kain to elaborate, Kain swallowed hard and added, “Something in her personal effects, I think.” 

Jon seemed to understand the intentional vagueness. “There are three places you might look, depending on the item in question. In the study is Mistress Highwind’s library, curated personally over the years by her. She had an intense interest in history and old lore. I find you can tell a lot about someone from their books, so you might find something there. 

“Next, is the attic,” Jon continued. “You’ll find spare furniture there and some sentimental items, along with boxes of older estate records. You might have luck there if you’re looking for a document of some kind. 

“Finally, the basement, which contains a root cellar for vegetables, storage for wine casks, and an armory that your parents had built to store their collection. If you’re looking for a family heirloom of sorts, it might be there.”  

With that, Jon stood from the table. “If you need anything else, find anyone you can see and ask for me. They’ll help you out.” He started for the exit, then hesitated by the door. “Oh, and Master Highwind?” he said, looking back over his shoulder at them with a somber gaze. “Your mother’s grave is around the back of the property. Under the weeping willow.” 

“Thank you,” Kain said, feeling overwhelmed with all the information and unsure how to feel about it. Jon left, clicking the door behind him,and leaving the three alone. Kain wondered where to start, what was most prudent in his short time here. 

“I’ll take the study,” Rosa said, pushing her plate aside, jumping eagerly up from her seat. 

“I have the basement,” Cecil offered next, wiping his mouth on a napkin as he stood. 

Kain stood, dumbfounded. He knew they would help him, but he did not realize how much he’d need them to help him sort through the pieces of his family’s history. It seemed an intensely personal thing to ask of someone, but he knew no one else he trusted with it. 

“I’ll take the attic,” Kain said quietly, then stood to follow them out of the room, desperately grateful for both Rosa and Cecil. 

With a small lantern in hand, Kain climbed the narrow stairs to the highest floor of the Highwind Manor. It seemed the most appropriate place for a dragoon to start, Kain mused, as he looked around the open space. He saw spare kitchenware and chairs, for when the manor hosted big events in one corner.  

As he turned to face another corner, full of furniture, the lantern swung uncertainly, casting deceptive dancing shadows across the dark walls and floors. For a moment, he thought he saw people occupying the extra beds and couches, but he blinked hard, and they were suddenly gone.  

Cautiously, Kain approached the abandoned furniture, knowing that was where he wanted to start. He went, row by row, carefully looking over each piece, trying to find the one from his memory. There seemed to be an organization to the furniture, as Kain went from bedroom furniture to nursery, and knew this is where he wanted to look. 

He found the child’s bed with its familiar wooden posts toward the back, as if it had been shoved back there to hide it. Getting down on the dusty floor, he reached up under it, groping blindly through the slates for something he was not sure would be there. 

When Kain’s fingers closed around the bottom corner of a wooden box, he nearly wept with relief, knowing he was not crazy. Wiggling it free from the bottom, he pulled the box out from underneath the bed and into the light. 

It was exactly how Kain had dreamed it, small enough to fit between both hands, its wooden surface covered in reaching vines and blooming flowers. It reminded him of this place, full of beauty and grace. His mother had been Troian, Kain remembered, knowing only that their culture had a high level of respect for things that grew in the earth. Her love of the Highwind estate made sense if it reminded her of home. 

He sat on the floor, his back against the small bed, the box in his lap and the lantern beside his knee, lending its much-needed light as Kain lifted the lid. He peered in cautiously, as if he were afraid its contents might jump out at him. When he reached in, he felt the handle of something, well-worn by years of use. He pulled it out to inspect it in the light. 

It was a small knife. As Kain pulled it free from its sheath, the familiar metal blade winked in the lamplight at him, like a cruel inside joke from the past. “Odin’s knife…” Kain said it like a curse, trying to resist the urge to throw it. How many young people had Odin manipulated, Kain wondered again, and knew then his mother was another victim of Odin’s ambition. But to what extent? 

Kain set the knife aside and reached again into the small box, wondering if it held anything else. He felt parchment under his fingers and heard it rustle as he lifted a stack of rumpled papers from the box. Kain turned one over, running his fingers over the ink. 

My dearest heart,   

Every minute we are apart is torture. When can I see you again? I ache endlessly for you. Please put me out of my misery and respond, even if only to tell me no.  

Yours always, forever, unending,  

Kain read it over several times, trying to puzzle it out. Was this a love letter from his father? He picked up another. 

My love,   

I know our time while not together is as painful for you as it is for me. Is it cruel for me to take comfort in that? To know you must endure the same terrible agony I must, and we will only be relieved when we are reunited once more?  

Yours in exquisite torture,

There were at least a dozen similar letters, always addressed to a vague affectionate platitude, and always signed without a name.   Kain read through a few carefully, his legs growing stiff and numb as he sat there. All the letters were a variation on the first two: the letter writer professes their love and desire to see their paramour again, signing off sometimes with a plan to meet. 

How many letters had his parents exchanged like this? Kain wondered. How intense was their love for one another, that despite being married, they still exchanged such passionate correspondence? Did their time apart while his mother was here really tear at Richard so? Is this why he had started his affair with Joanna? Was this why Richard took his wife’s death so hard, her suicide in direct conflict to their intense love affair? 

This only brought up more questions than it answered, Kain thought, full of frustration. If Elena and Richard had been so in love, then why had she taken her own life? And what did Joanna have to do with it? She was involved somehow, Kain knew, by the guilt and pain he saw in Joanna’s eyes whenever she looked his way. 

Gathering the papers up and folding them back into the box, then placing the knife on top, Kain then closed the lid. Taking the box under his arm, he left the attic, wondering if Rosa and Cecil would have better insight into this confusing clue about his mother. 

Kain found Rosa in the study, pouring over a large open tome. She looked up at hearing him enter, immediately beckoning him over with a gesture.  

“Come look,” she said, in the easy familiarity of their past childhood before things between them got hopelessly complicated. “Your mother has a lot of books on old magic and ancient lore.” She flipped through the pages quickly, trying to find something specific. She landed on a page of a detailed illustration of an ominously familiar mountain peak. Rosa tapped it for emphasis. “See?” she said, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Even mythos about Mount Ordeals.” 

“Anything about the dead speaking through dreams?” Kain asked, his eyes scanning the page. 

Rosa cracked a knowing grin, then turned back to the book. She turned a few pages forward, quickly skimming through the text. She stopped, pointing to a passage. “Here,” she said, then began to read out loud. “’Some travelers experience strange dreams of the past, in which the dead try to communicate their unfinished business in an effort to have it resolved, so they can finally rest.’” Rosa peered back up at Kain, her expression softening with sympathy. “Is your mother trying to find peace by reaching out to you? To finally tell you the truth?” 

“I don’t know,” Kain said, gripping the edge of the desk for stability, feeling suddenly unsure on his feet. 

“Kain,” Rosa said gently, drawing his attention back to her. “It says that such dreams may be achieved outside of Mount Ordeals. By sleeping on a person’s final resting place.” 

Kain gawked at her. “Are you saying I need to take a nap on my mother’s grave?” Kain asked, sounding shocked, not believing Rosa would suggest such a thing. 

Rosa shrugged aside his outrage in her practical way. “At worst, you get a poor night of sleep outside under the stars. At best, you have another dream of your mother and gain more insight. I’d say that’s worth the sacrilege, don’t you think?”  

Knowing she was right, Kain sighed in defeat. 

Rosa suddenly smiled. “I’ll get some blankets.” 

Cecil met them as they were heading outside, on the stairs. 

“Find anything?” Cecil asked. His face was smudged with dust and dirt, his hair streaked with sweat and plastered to his red face. Whatever Cecil had been up to that afternoon, he’d been busy. 

Rosa nodded emphatically. “Kain found some old love letters between his parents, and I found some lore on death magic that suggests if Kain sleeps by his mother’s grave, he may have another dream.” She paused for air. “You?” 

Cecil shook his head, less excited than Rosa. “Nothing yet, but I have a hunch. I just need a little break before I keep going.” 

Together, on the first floor, they found a door leading to the yard behind the manor. The yard opened to a view of the orchard beyond them in the valley below, framed by a line of weeping willow trees, gracefully dragging their blooming branches in a lace curtain around the property. The sun was beginning to set over the valley, spilling golden light through the brightly colored treetops, highlighting the patches of color throughout the orchard. 

Kain approached the trees, looking back and forth until he saw the largest tree at the center of the line, towering over the others as a focal point.  

In front of the willow tree was a headstone reading,  

Elena Leonhart Highwind  

and the outline of a blooming flower below it. 

“Your mother’s maiden name is Leonhart?” Cecil asked, sounding oddly too eager. 

“I... I think so,” Kain stammered, not sure. “Why?” he asked, looking aside at Cecil. 

But Cecil was looking at Rosa instead. “You said you found books on death magic, correct?” 

“…Yes,” Rosa answered reluctantly, full of uncertainty. 

“Why?” Kain asked again, his patience thinning. 

Cecil shook his head instead. “I have a theory, but I’m not sure yet.” He held up his hands in apology as he backed away. “You two try the dream thing, I need to keep looking.” 

“But Cecil,” Rosa called out after him. “It’s almost night and it’ll be pitch black in the basement. You won’t find anything in the dark.” 

“I’m used to being in the dark,” Cecil said with a laugh, surprisingly lighthearted. “Trust me on this one! Good luck!” He gave a big wave of his arm, then took off in a run back toward the manor. 

“He secretly loves this,” Rosa declared as Cecil left, looking back to Kain. 

“You both do,” Kain corrected her, then added, “So do I. Like our adventures of old again, solving mysteries and getting into mischief.” 

“Do you expect mischief?” Rosa asked with an arched eyebrow. 

“Do we ever expect it, but often find it anyway?” Kain countered, which made Rosa laugh. The sound was a balm to Kain’s bruised heart, still battered from their time on Mount Ordeals and all that had followed it. 

“I’ve missed you,” Rosa said suddenly.  

“Me too,” Kain replied, meeting her serious eyes. 

They stood together in mutual silence for a long moment, the winds high overhead whistling their path across the sky. The breeze picked up the dangling branches of the willows, tossing them around in a playful dance, as if they were performing for an audience. 

It was all that could be safely said about whatever was between Rosa and Kain because any other words might bring on more feelings, more memories, more remembered passion. And that was a dangerous path for them to tread. 

“This place is wonderful,” Rosa said instead, looking out to the valley with a smile. “I see why your mother loved it so much. It must have reminded her of home.” 

Kain watched Rosa, standing beside his mother’s grave and in his mother’s clothes, looking at home already. He wondered how Rosa might like being the lady of such a place, if she would take to it as easily as his mother had, and if she would love it as much. 

Yes, Kain thought, yes, she would.   

But that was dangerous territory as well, so Kain set it aside, pushing down the thought. Instead, he lowered himself to the ground, finding the grass surprisingly lush and comfortable. “It’s good thing I’m already exhausted. It won’t be hard to sleep.” 

Rosa sat beside him, grabbing two blankets from the pile she had brought. She handed one to Kain, then pulled the other over her shoulders. “Then let’s sleep,” she said, and her eyes looked suddenly heavy too. She leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder, echoing their childhood arrangement again. 

Kain relaxed beside her, tilting his head to rest against hers, their temples touching. 

In minutes, they were both asleep. 

Kain woke, his whole world shaking back and forth. 

“Hush, my love,” crooned a soft voice. “You must sleep now.” 

Kain felt the memory-version of himself close his eyes, drifting off quickly to safe unawareness, secure in the protection of mother, the source of all comfort in his small world. But Kain-the-observer watched on, as a tired looking Elena continued rocking the small cradle with her foot. 

They were in Kain’s house in Baron, where he grew up, in the sitting room. Kain was swaddled and rocking within a cradle. Elena sat in a chair beside him, her foot on the cradle, rocking it gently, but her attention on the papers in her lap. Kain immediately recognized them as the love letters. 

But instead of inspiring joy, Elena was crying over them, her hands now buried in her hands as she cried on. It was a desperate, hollowing cry of grief, something Kain had only heard once before, when Joanna and Rosa had mourned the death of Roland. 

On the small side table beside her, she set aside the papers and picked something else up. It was only when she unsheathed it that Kain recognized it as Odin’s dagger. She laid out her arm across her lap, then pressed the knife tip to her wrist. 

Is this….? Kain wondered, numb with growing horror at what he watched. Is this my mother’s suicide?   

“Just to see if it still works,” Elena whispered with a guilty glance at Kain’s cradle, who slept on in ignorance. She looked back at her exposed wrist, then pushed the knife’s edge in, a new red seam appearing. “Just a little…” Elena said in a strained voice, her face going red with effort. 

The air in the room thickened with purpose and the scattered shadows seemed to grow darker. 

Elena applied more pressure, blood welling up at the knife’s tip. She went wide-eyed at the sight of it, then, seeming satisfied, relaxed her grip on the knife, until – 

Until Kain’s cry abruptly pierced the silence of the room.  

Startled, Elena jumped, and the knife slid deeper into her wrist. With a strangled yelp, she dropped the knife, the bloody weapon clattering to the floor. The wound at her wrist blossomed red, then began pouring blood out unchecked.  

As baby-Kain’s cries continued, Elena tried to stand from the chair, but immediately crashed down to her knees, holding her wrist against her chest in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Her shirt began to darken as the fabric soaked up her blood. Wide-eyed, she looked around for something, anything, to help her, but was losing blood too quickly to think clearly.  

As she slumped over, her glassy gaze fixed on the cradle where Kain still cried, his panic escalating each moment he was ignored. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Kain-the-observer, however, saw the shape of the words on her mouth as she tried to say, I’m sorry.   

The dream took on a strange, purple tint to it, dimming Kain’s vision. The shadows around Elena deepened, forming a dark, ethereal mist that seemed to ebb and flow with each unsteady breath. It rippled out from her, reaching with insidious fingers toward baby-Kain’s cradle. 

Baby-Kain’s cries changed, now shrieking with pain; Kain could taste blood in his mouth, and the smell of it overwhelmed him. 

Eventually, as the puddle of blood around Elena on the floor continued to grow outward, her chest stopped moving up and down with each breath and she went utterly still.  

Kain expected this to be the end of this horrible memory dream, to wake up at any moment, but the scene lingered on. An eternity ticked by in the endless seconds that followed, as baby-Kain wailed on, his sobs strangled and gasping. 

Then, like a light in the dark, Kain heard a familiar voice call out. “Elena?” Joanna shouted through the door, knocking furiously. “Elena?” she called again, sounding more concerned. Tentatively, she cracked the door open to peer inside.  

“By all the Crystals,” Joanna whispered, full of horror, muttering a quick prayer as she rushed inside. She was beside Elena in the next moment, rolling her over to her back. “You promised you wouldn’t…” Joanna said with a choked sob. She clasped her bloody hands together, and Kain sensed new magic in the air, as Joanna crafted her healing magic.  

But the dead are beyond healing, Kain knew, and Joanna knew it too. She shrieked, a terrible wail of utter agony and despair. She held Elena’s body to her, rocking back and forth on her haunches, smearing swaths of blood all over her white mage robes. 

Eventually, however, Joanna’s sobbing subsided, and she finally heard another: Kain’s mewling cries. She laid Elena back on the floor, then moved to the cradle. She picked up Kain’s infant-self, cradling him closely against her shoulder. She rubbed his back, trying to soothe his panicked crying, unaware of bloody fingerprints she smudged on his shirt, not yet seeing the blood that dripped from his mouth and nose.  “Shh, baby boy, shh,” she murmured as she rocked him. “You’re all right. You’re going to be all right.” Whether she spoke more to the baby or to herself, Kain wasn’t sure. 

With Kain nestled to her, Joanna carefully stepped around Elena’s body, casting one last sad look as she passed. “Oh, what will we do?” she asked no one specifically, before leaving both the house and the dream behind. 

Kain awoke to someone shaking roughly shaking his shoulder. “W-what?!” he barked out as he sat, to see Cecil standing over him, wearing a somber expression. 

“I found something,” Cecil said, grabbing Kain’s hand and yanking him to a stand. “I can’t explain it – you just have to see it.” 

“Cecil, wait—” Kain started to protest, but Cecil had already left, heading back toward the house. It was still full dark outside, and judging by the position of the moons, Kain guessed it was almost dawn. With a sleepy Rosa beside him, Kain hurried along after Cecil. 

Cecil did not lead them inside, but around to the side of the manor, where the cellar door was open to the outside. “Come on,” Cecil said as he descended the narrow steps to the basement below.  

As Kain and Rosa entered, him first and her following, Cecil held up a lantern that offered a meager light to the dark interior. “Follow me,” Cecil said, as he guided them through the stacks of wine casks, then through a back door that opened into a wider room, which had racks of armor and weapons lining the walls. 

In the center of the room was a wooden storage crate, recently cracked open, judging by the nearby crowbar Kain saw on the ground beside it. Had Cecil done this? 

“You see,” Cecil said as he approached the line of armor busts that displayed the treasured relics of Kain’s ancestors. “Ever since you told me about your mother’s suicide, I’ve had my suspicions,” Cecil stopped at one, but he turned to face Rosa and Kain. The swinging lantern cast dark shadows behind Cecil, obscuring what stood there. “But then I saw your mother’s maiden name, and I knew I was right.” Cecil grinned suddenly, like a cat catching a canary. 

“What do you mean? Why is her name important?” Kain asked. He had just witnessed her suicide, and it couldn’t have been anything other than that, Kain knew with a sick certainty.   

“Leonhart,” Cecil said, as if it were obvious. When neither Rosa nor Kain responded, Cecil shook his head, exasperated. “The dark knight who traveled through Fabul and left artifacts?” Cecil waited but was only met with their blank expressions. Cecil sighed, then added, “He traveled on to other countries after that. Including Troia.” 

“You think Kain’s mother is a descendant of Leonhart?” Rosa asked, sounding skeptical. 

“I know she is,” Cecil said as he stepped aside and lifted the lantern high, shedding its light all around them. 

On the display bust was a suit of armor, wickedly black and vicious looking, with devious spikes protruding from its joints, protecting the weak part of the armor. The helm bore similar spikes but in the shape of horns. It was mirror of Cecil’s dark knight armor, almost an exact copy, except… 

“Can this be true?” Rosa asked, her skepticism turning to shock. “Could she really have been…” 

The armor was slimmer than Cecil’s, made for a leaner figure. For a woman, Kain realized, understanding suddenly slamming into him.  

“My mother was a dark knight,” Kain whispered, barely able to put voice to it. 

Chapter Text

In the basement of Highwind Manor, Kain blankly stared at his mother’s dark knight armor. Rosa and Cecil stood on either side of him, considering the cruel black armaments. The truth of its ownership somehow made it more sinister looking, mocking Kain as it flaunted the reality of Elena’s dark nature. Kain’s longtime ignorance of his mother had never bothered him in the past, but now it gutted him, and he wondered it he would have been better off not knowing.

“I don’t think your mother killed herself,” Cecil said, still holding the lantern, the light radiating out from his side, making his hair look more silver than gray. “I think it was dark knight training gone terribly wrong.”

Kain closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of Elena surrounded by so much blood. “No wonder King Odin wanted me to be a dark knight so desperately. He did the same to my mother.”

Kain did not realize his mistake until he heard Cecil quietly ask, “What do you mean?”

Reluctantly, Kain opened his eyes to see Cecil, looking wounded. “I…” Kain started, unsure of how to walk this back. “The king proposed dark knight training to me first,” he then admitted, the truth loosening a long-held guilty knot in his chest. “I refused.”

“Oh,” Cecil said, sounding small. He lowered the lantern and the surrounding shadows leapt greedily up, casting most of his face into darkness. “I thought that…” he hesitated, and Kain could only imagine the look of disappointment on Cecil’s face and that was somehow worse than actually seeing it. “Never mind,” Cecil said instead, and there was a world of hurt packed into the dismissal.

“Cecil—” Rosa said softly, putting a hand on Cecil’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cecil interrupted, shrugging Rosa aside. “I am… tired. This may all look different in the morning light after a few hours of sleep.”

“Yes,” Rosa agreed quickly, shooting a narrowed glare back at Kain, silent in its reprimand. But her words remained gentle and coaxing. “C’mon, Cecil, let’s all get some rest.”

Kain looked back at his mother’s armor one more time. It had more questions than answers for him, he realized: why had this been kept from him, and who else knew? What did this mean for Kain and how he knew himself?

As Cecil started to walk away, lantern still in hand, the light began to shrink, and the encroaching darkness engulfed the armor entirely. As Cecil kept moving, the darkness crept closer, inching toward Kain, reaching with greedy fingers.

“I’m coming too,” Kain said abruptly, as he turned to follow.

With an unspoken tension between the three of them, they went back into the manor, and quietly climbed the staircase back up to the owner’s suite. Cecil said nothing as he retreated into one of the guest rooms, leaving Rosa and Kain behind.

“You’re a jerk, Kain Highwind,” Rosa said after the door clicked closed.

“I know,” Kain agreed easily, wincing. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking and it just came out.”

But Rosa wasn’t done; she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, looking so much like Joanna it was eerie. “And now he will torture himself, asking, ‘What else are they hiding from me?’ and he’s not wrong to wonder.” She sighed, her arms relaxing back to her sides. “At the very least, you could pretend being a dark knight is not some scandalous shame about your mother. Think about this from Cecil’s perspective: you refused King Odin and hid it from both of us. Do you also think Cecil being a dark knight is a tragedy?”

“Yes,” Kain admitted, casting an unsure glance at the door where Cecil disappeared. “Rosa, I had a dream about my mother and how she died.” He looked back at Rosa and her expression had softened with sympathy. “I saw how desperate she was to use Darkness.”

“Oh, Kain,” Rosa murmured, sympathy softening her. “I’m so sorry.”

Kain thought about the battle with the Zu on the Bloodletter and finally witnessing Cecil use Darkness. It had been familiar in such a strange way, like trying to recall the forgotten melody to an old childhood song. At the time, he could not say why it seemed so, only that it was. Now, knowing he had seen it once before, it seemed to connect another puzzle piece in the mysteries of his life.

“I’m afraid to see the same look on Cecil’s face,” Kain said, looking down at his wrist, wondering what it might look like crisscrossed in neat white scars. “I’m afraid this might kill him.”

“Me too,” Rosa admitted quietly. “But Cecil is right. This might look better in the morning light.” She touched Kain’s shoulder with a light squeeze. “Get some rest and perhaps later we’ll all feel less bruised.”

“Good idea,” Kain agreed, feeling suddenly weary.

Kain laid awake in his father’s bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to set aside his restless thoughts enough to sleep. But still they chased him, circling endlessly around each other, not giving him any peace. He shifted in the blankets, then rolled over to his side, and found himself staring at the bedroom door.

He thought of the nights of his childhood, of Cecil quietly knocking at his door and just asking for Kain’s company. How easy Cecil had made that seem, to communicate a vulnerable need without shame. Kain knew Cecil hurt now, and selfishly hoped that was enough to prompt Cecil to come knocking again.

Then, Kain heard it – the scuffle of footsteps outside his door, like the answer to an unvoiced prayer. Kain held his breath and waited, his heart counting out the tortured seconds with each thundering beat.

But the knock never came, instead, Kain heard the footsteps receding. Getting out of the bed, Kain quietly moved to the bedroom door and eased it open. He peered out in time to see Cecil slip through the door across the way – Rosa’s door.

Cecil was hurting, Kain realized with a heavy dread, but did not seek Kain anymore.

Closing the door, Kain went back to the bed; his limbs felt impossibly heavy as he climbed back in. Kain was hit with a sense of hollowing loneliness, wishing he had the courage to go knock on Rosa’s door, but knowing he didn’t have a place between them, no matter how much he might wish for it.

Just as Kain was sure he’d never fall asleep like this, he drifted off.

Kain dreamed.

High above the tallest mountain peaks and even the clouds themselves, stood the Tower, casting its endless shadow across all. It reached for Kain, calling to him with a woman’s breathy voice, urging him closer.

It whispered of open skies and endless currents to ride, promising true freedom, to indulge any desire and never leave him wanting. It offered him dominion over the wind, bending it to his whim and will, granting him a power few mortals could ever dream of.

Come find me, Kain Highwind, the Tower beckoned.

“Where are you?” Kain asked the dreamscape, bodiless and drifting through the sky.

But the Tower did not answer, only laughing, the sound carrying throughout the wind.

Kain woke a few hours later to the sun stubbornly streaming light around the edges of the curtains. He reluctantly got to his feet and made his way into the parlor where he could hear the clink of plates and soft conversation from the dining room. He went to the dining room door and saw Rosa seated at the table as Jon laid out several covered dishes. Beside Rosa on the table was a neat pile of papers that Kain recognized as his parents’ love letters.

They both looked up at Kain’s arrival. “Good morning, Master Highwind,” Jon said with a smile as Kain took the chair beside Rosa and sat down. “I expect you have some questions about what you found.”

“The armor,” Kain said flatly. “Did you know about my mother being a dark knight?” he asked.

“I did,” Jon answered simply as he continued to lay out plates and cutlery, enough for three spots. “She would come here often, to convalesce after difficult training. We did not speak of it directly, but I tried to make this place comforting for her during her dark days.”

“Did my father know?” Kain asked.

Jon hesitated a moment before answering, “Not while she was alive. Sir Richard came here, about ten years after her death, to start going through her belongings. He found the armor and several… troubling books and documents. He went back to Baron to confront King Odin but died shortly afterward, so I’m not sure what, if anything, came of it.”

Kain said nothing in reply, and the room seemed suddenly heavy with tension.

Rosa cut through it with her quiet question, “Did anyone else know?”

Jon didn’t answer, watching Rosa carefully for a long moment. Then he sighed and replied, “Your mother was with Mistress Highwind often, tending to her as she recovered. I would be surprised if she did not know.”

“I suspected as much,” Rosa remarked as she served herself from a dish of baked apples. “Mother knew far more about healing dark knight injuries than most white mages. I’ve been wondering why for a while, but it makes sense if she was healing Elena.”

“Will you stay another day?” Jon asked, directing the question at Kain. “I was telling Miss Farrell the best route to tour the orchard.”

“No, I want to get back—” Kain started, but then Rosa gave him a hopeful look and Kain immediately changed his mind. “Just one more,” he said instead and was rewarded with Rosa’s brilliant smile in return.

If Jon noticed the exchange between them, he did not comment and only nodded. “Wonderful. Your chocobos will be ready whenever you are. Just head out to the stables.” The table was fully set now, and Jon stopped fussing, looking satisfied. “Enjoy your meal,” he said as he left.

“How is Cecil?” Kain asked Rosa once Jon was out the door.

Rosa shrugged. “Feeling raw but he’ll come around. A day in the sunshine will help.”

“He went to your room last night,” Kain announced and was met with Rosa’s surprised look. “Did you…?” he started to ask but found himself unable to put voice to the question.

Rosa blushed, the pink in her cheeks making her even prettier. “Do you really want to know?” she asked quietly.

Kain found himself unable to answer, with his tongue dry and tacky in his mouth.

Rosa looked aside from Kain’s blank stare, murmuring quietly, “Nothing happened. Not that you get an opinion about it.”

“I know,” Kain said, feeling more relieved than he deserved from her answer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you the other night with Marion,” Kain blurted out.

“Yes, you did,” Rosa corrected him gently. “But it doesn’t matter because I’ve already forgiven you.”

“Thank you,” Kain said, feeling a wave of gratitude for her grace.

Rosa reached for her plate again and they ate together in mutual quiet, the only words between them as they passed plates back and forth. Eventually it was Rosa who spoke, as she set aside her now empty plate. “I read through your parents’ love letters,” she announced without preamble. “And something’s been bothering me.”

“What?” Kain mumbled through a full mouth.

“They don’t seem like love letters between a married couple,” Rosa said. “There’s some… unmet longing in them. It reads like lovers who are being kept apart, by distance or circumstances.” She picked up one letter. “Listen to this: ‘Being unable to touch you is slowly driving me to madness. I need you like air in my lungs. When can we be together again?’” Rosa lowered the letter and looked at Kain. “Does that seem like a married couple who will see each other over dinner?”

Kain took the letter from her, reading it over again. “What else could it be?” Kain asked, then remembered Elena both scowling and crying other the letters. Were they even hers? Realization dawned on him. “These are letters between Joanna and my father,” Kain declared. “My mother must have discovered them. When Father found them in her things, he must have realized she had found out about the affair and believed she killed herself over it.” Kain winced. “He blamed Joanna, both for the affair and hiding my mother’s dark knight training from him.”

“Perhaps,” Rosa murmured as she took the letter back, folding it in place with the others. “No matter what it is, I think you should leave it alone.”

“Why?” Kain asked, surprised. “Because it involves Joanna?”

Rosa shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then straightened and met Kain’s eyes directly. “Because no matter who it involves, knowing the truth won’t change anything about who you are. Just be Kain Highwind and don’t worry about the messy secrets of your parents.”

Kain said nothing, looking aside from Rosa’s intense look. The windows of the dining room were open to the morning breeze, and he could hear the faint chirp of birds nested in trees near the manor. Then, he heard footsteps by the open door and looked up to see Cecil standing there, not entering fully, like he was uncertain about approaching.

“Come join us,” Kain said carefully, as if he were speaking to a skittish animal. “There’s plenty of food.”

“Thanks,” Cecil mumbled as he took the chair opposite Rosa, looking between her and Kain carefully.

“Jon suggested we take a tour of the property by chocobo,” Rosa said conversationally, as she handed a dish to Cecil. He served himself as she spoke. “I was thinking the three of us could go and explore for the day.”

Kain watched Cecil watching Rosa, his face both hopeful and guarded. “Actually,” Kain said before Cecil could answer. “I have a few things I want to look over. Why don’t you two go and meet me back here this evening?” he suggested, trying to sound mild.

Rosa looked surprised. “Are you certain? We can wait here until you finish your business and then go together.”

“I’m certain,” Kain said, more firmly this time. “You two enjoy yourselves.”

Kain watched as understanding dawned on Cecil, making him suddenly smile. But Rosa was still doubtful, casting an uncertain look at Kain, which Kain ignored, suddenly fussing with his plate. “I’m done,” he declared, standing up from the table. “I’ll see you two later,” he said as he started to exit.

“Kain!” Rosa called out after him. He didn’t stop, continuing through into parlor, but Rosa followed him out. “Kain,” she called again, and this time he stopped, but did not turn to face her. “I don’t know what to do.”

“He loves you,” Kain said simply. He glanced over his shoulder at Rosa; she wore her uncertainty heavily on her shoulders, making her look somehow smaller and younger than she was. “Let him.”

Rosa hesitated, looking like she wanted to say something, but nothing came. Instead, she nodded, then turned away to walk back into the dining room. She paused again by the door, lingering there with her fingers on the doorframe. Kain wondered if she waited to see if he would say something, protesting at the last second, or if he would let her go. He said nothing, letting the silence speak for him.

Rosa went in.

Kain spent the late morning exploring the manor itself, going floor by floor and marveling at the beauty of the place. By noon, Jon discovered that Kain had stayed behind. After a lavish lunch, Jon took Kain to his office and gave him an overview of the entire estate in meticulous detail. Unlike the previous sessions with the castle steward, Kain found himself interested and followed along, surprised to be suddenly invested. Now, the abstract numbers were more real now that he had seen what they were attached to.

With an uncharacteristic shyness, Jon asked to show Kain some potential new ideas for the orchard. Kain agreed, and Jon made his proposal of expanding operations, to include producing fruit wines. Currently, he made a few dozen bottles a year, but it was more as a hobby than anything else. With the right spot on the property and small investment, Jon was confident that he could turn a profit within three years of its operation.

Kain agreed easily, so he and Jon spent the rest of the afternoon making plans. As the evening approached, someone stopped by Jon’s office, to let him know Cecil and Rosa had returned.

“Do you wish to join them, Master Highwind?” Jon asked, as he began to gather up the papers on the desk between them.

“No,” Kain said. “Let’s keep going. They can eat without me.”

And so Kain tried not to think about it, as the evening turned into night, he and Jon arguing over a map for the best placement of the winery. His two best friends alone for a day and night in a romantic environment – what else could happen?

It was finally Jon who begged off, when the sky had been fully dark for a few hours, citing his age and need for a comfortable bed. Kain found himself reluctantly climbing the stairs to the owner’s suite and stepping into the parlor. It was empty, with all the bedroom doors closed.

Kain stepped lightly, trying at first to convince himself he wasn’t going to listen for anything, only go straight to bed himself. He got all the way to his bedroom door before he hesitated and went back to Cecil’s door. Carefully, Kain put his ear to the door and heard the soft murmur of voices muffled on the other side. His suspicions confirmed, Kain drew away.

There’s no place for me there, Kain told himself as he entered his own room. He tried to ignore the giant pit of loneliness in him, despite how it threatened to swallow him whole. This is for the best, he reminded himself, but it was a poor comfort as he found fitful sleep.

Kain dreamed again, but it was in vague flashes and glimpses – a woman’s golden hair over his face, whispered promises into his ear, the wind tugging impatiently at his clothing, laughing at his fumbling inexperience.

Rosa and Cecil were up by the time Kain woke. He found them in the dining room, eating breakfast.

“We missed you last night,” Cecil said as Kain joined them.

Did you? Kain thought, but instead said, “I got caught up in Jon’s plans for the estate. It took much longer than I had planned.”

Rosa was either wholly invested in her food or was avoiding eye contact, but she said nothing.

“Are you ready to head back?” Cecil asked.

Kain thought of returning to Baron and what awaited him there: confronting King Odin about his mother and possibly understanding more of the conflict around Richard. “Yes,” Kain said with a new determination.

“King Odin’s not here,” Albert told Kain regretfully, upon his return to Baron. “You’ll have to wait for his return.” Albert sat at his desk in the Dragoon Commander’s office, Kain sat opposite, telling Albert of his time at Highwind Manor, unaware that this would be the last time he'd report to his Commander. 

“From where?” Kain asked, surprised. He hadn’t been aware of any planned royal flights. “I thought Cid was working on upgrades to the king’s airship.”

“No idea. No one knows the itinerary, not even Baigan, and the crew was obviously caught off guard by the last-minute flight. Cid tried to delay, but King Odin insisted,” Albert told him with a frown, and Kain saw new lines of worry webbing out and deepening across Albert’s brow.

Kain stewed in uncertainty for three more days, waiting for the king’s return to Baron.

When the king finally returned, the whole castle was set alight with rumor, trying to speculate where he had been. But the Red Wings crew was surprisingly tight-lipped, and while usually someone would have gossiped, none would confirm where they had gone.

Kain put in his request to see the king with the steward and was surprised when it was granted within a few hours. Kain was summoned by a guard, who wore their anonymous helmet and barely spoke to Kain as they escorted him back to the throne room.

Kain arrived in time to see Albert storming out of the throne room, in a rare display of wild anger. Albert saw Kain and stalked over, scowling darkly. “Be cautious, Kain,” Albert warned in a low voice. “His Majesty has a dangerous agenda.”

“What do you mean, Albert?” Kain asked, confused. “What’s going on?”

Albert sighed, and some of the anger went out of him on the exhale. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I only urge you to be careful as you navigate new waters.”

“Don’t be cryptic,” Kain said with a frown. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“King Odin will tell you soon enough,” Albert said with a bitter laugh, turning to go.

“Albert!” Kain called out after him, but Albert wasn’t listening, still walking away. “Commander Hawthorne!” Kain tried more formally.

Albert hesitated, turning to look back at Kain. “I’m not your Commander anymore,” he said, sounding dejected.

Kain wanted to ask more, to shake the answers loose from Albert, but the guard at the throne room spoke, “His Majesty will see you now,” and it was not a request, but a demand.

With building anxiety, Kain entered, to find Odin alone, seated on the throne. There was a strange smell in the air, Kain was surprised to find, with almost a briny aftertaste on the tongue.  

“Your Majesty,” Kain said formally, dropping into a bow before the king. “I’ve discovered something about my mother, and I have many questions.”

“I do not care about your mother,” Odin said sharply. The king was known for being straightforward, but his callous bluntness surprised Kain. “You are not here to ask questions but to listen and obey.”

Kain said nothing, stunned into silence.

“You are taking over as Commander of the Dragoons, effective today,” Odin continued. “And with Cecil at the head of the Red Wings, the two of you will help usher Baron into a new, powerful age.”

“But Commander Hawthorne—” Kain tried to protest.

“—is irrelevant,” Odin interrupted Kain. “I have chosen you. Do you accept?” His eyes were calm yet calculating, not blinking as he awaited Kain's reply.

Kain hesitated. It was something he wanted more than he could possibly articulate, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong and off about Odin and how he spoke. This was supposed to be a huge accomplishment for Kain, but he felt no joy, only dismayed confusion.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Kain thought, feeling like a child again.

“Well?” Odin prompted, impatient.

“I accept,” Kain said, sounding unsure.

“Good,” Odin smiled, the expression tight over his teeth. He leaned back against the throne, looking satisfied despite Kain’s obvious reluctance. “Now go and make ready for the glory of Baron.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Kain said formally, unable to shake a new feeling of dread as he left, like the walls were about to close in on him.

Chapter Text

The sudden retirement of both the Dragoon Commander and the Red Wings Captain sent ripples of rumor throughout Baron, military and civilian alike. All wondered what had prompted Odin to replace them in the middle of their successful careers. There was no doubt both Cecil and Kain were talented soldiers, but it seemed hasty to promote them now, just as they were cutting their teeth on complex missions. Many speculated a disagreement had initiated the dismissals, but no loose-lipped guard could confirm any specific gossip, so the theories varied wildly.

Not even Albert or the Red Wings Captain spoke about it, despite how Kain and Cecil pushed on their former superiors.

“There is nothing to say,” Albert said with a resigned sigh. They stood together in the Dragoon Commander’s small office, as Albert packed up his personal belongings into a small box. He paused to look up at Kain. “And I’m not being secretive or coy. King Odin gave me no reason, only to say that it was time to step aside.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Kain protested. “There has to be a reason.”

“If there is one, it lies with Odin and not with me,” Albert told him with a shrug. “But you, Kain, you must be cautious moving forward. I fear Odin’s ambition may prompt him to… push you and Cecil. Remember your honor as a dragoon and keep them on the right path.”

“I will,” Kain promised.

There were abrupt changes with the mages, as well.

Rosa came bursting into Albert’s office – no, it was Kain’s office, now -- one afternoon, demanding, “Did you know about this?” Behind her, the door swung wildly on its hinges, but did not quite close.

“Know about what?” Kain asked, genuinely not knowing. He sat at his desk, sorting through Albert’s meticulous notes, and wondering if he’d ever get through it all.

“The Mysidian mages?” Rosa answered impatiently, as if it were obvious. When Kain did not respond she added, “And their contracts being cancelled?” Kain shook his head and Rosa sighed. “All Mysidian mages are being sent back, effective immediately. They’re being escorted to the Devil’s Road, right now.”

“Why?” Kain asked, setting aside his paperwork.

“I don’t know,” Rosa admitted quietly, letting go of her impatient tone. “I was hoping you would. Some are saying it is in the name of patriotism, to keep the military strictly on Baron’s own interests and not Mysidia’s. Others claim that Mysidian mages can’t be trusted anymore, and the only reason why Mysidia has so many talented mages is because of their greedy possession of the Water Crystal.” Rosa paused, looking over Kain carefully. “They say more than that, but it frightens me.”

Kain saw the fear in her eyes and knew she wasn’t exaggerating. “And what does Cecil say?” he asked, suspecting that she had first gone to Cecil.

The question made Rosa obviously uncomfortable; she quickly looked aside. “Not much,” she said, confirming his suspicions. “Only that we must trust His Majesty’s judgment and that he has Baron’s best interest in mind.”

“Do you?” Kain asked, lowering his voice. “Trust King Odin?” It had been a question lurking in the corners of his mind since his youth when Odin first manipulated Cecil into dark knight training.  Then it was made only worse when Kain discovered Odin’s machinations reached all the way to Elena. He hadn’t put oxygen to the words – hadn’t dared – but if he couldn’t trust Rosa, then who could he trust? Who else knew him better?

Rosa met his eyes again, serious and somber. “You’re asking a dangerous question, Kain,” she said, the words heavy with warning; he knew he was treading on precarious grounds. He stood from his seat and circled the desk. Rosa took a sudden step to the side as he passed her to the door, as if startled by his proximity. Kain tried to ignore her reaction and how it made his pulse spike in response.

“It’s a question you’ll have to answer eventually,” Kain warned Rosa as he clicked the office door closed, then turned back to face her. “Soon, we may all have to ask if His Majesty is doing the best for Baron.”

 “You speak of treason,” Rosa whispered, her eyes wide. She backed away from him again, but her hip bumped into his desk, stopping her. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, then back to him, and Kain was surprised to see a new fear in her eyes.

“King Odin is preparing for a war,” Kain countered, sterner than he intended, also surprised by the sudden anger he felt. He moved toward her, closing the small distance between them.  “It’s a matter of time before he finds a reason he thinks is good enough to finally wage one.” He softened his tone as he continued, “I’m not afraid of warfare, but who is our enemy?”

“What do we do?” Rosa asked with a sharp inhale. “What can we do? Even with your high rank, we are just soldiers following orders. How do we say no?”

Kain sighed, then reached to take her hand in his, and she allowed the familiar gesture of their childhood. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “Perhaps we do nothing. I could be wrong about all of this. But as King Odin told me, we are but tools in his hand, and must do as we are ordered.”

Rosa looked down at their joined hands and said nothing. Kain was acutely aware of the soft sound of her slow, deliberate breathing, the uncertainty coloring her eyes a deeper blue and the squeeze of her fingers on his. The combination of it all made his heart pick up in an erratic rhythm against his ribs.

“Don’t…” Rosa said, the plea barely audible despite their closeness. She looked aside from him, a new color high in her cheeks. “You cannot keep looking at me like that.” When Kain did not move or react, she added, “Cecil will start to notice.”

Her words were like stepping out into a cold winter night in the middle of a blizzard, his hot blood immediately cooling. He stepped back from her and dropped his hand from hers, and he heard her relieved exhale. How could he forget Cecil?

“Promise me something,” Rosa said, now that Kain was subdued, and she had proper air in her lungs. “No matter what happens, with the Red Wings, or Odin, or Baron, we’ll protect and look out for Cecil.” She knew him too well, how to redirect Kain and bring his focus back.

Kain knew then by the vulnerability in her voice, trembling as she spoke, how much she truly loved Cecil – it reminded him of their time together on Mount Ordeals. Had it been so easy for her, to turn her strong affection for Kain to Cecil, or did she still just love them both?

Haven’t we always looked out for Cecil? Isn’t that all I’ve ever done? Kain wondered but saw the intensity in Rosa’s eyes and could not deny her or himself; he never could. “I promise,” Kain said solemnly, not knowing how utterly he’d break it, or how soon.

In the weeks that followed, Kain was busier than ever before. King Odin demanded the Dragoon troops be available and deployment ready at a moment’s notice, so Kain spent countless hours going through equipment lists, rosters, and organizing practice drills to keep the Dragoons ready for any possibility.

At first, Kain wondered what Odin feared or wanted so much to whip the entire military into a frenzy, but Kain soon found himself too busy to even wonder that. Every night he’d drag himself to his quarters to drop off half dead into bed, rising only hours later to do it all again.

Cecil was similarly busy with the Red Wings, trying to meet the demands of both the King and Cid, who had recently outfitted the fleet with upgraded engines, making the Red Wings the fastest ships in the sky.

Cecil was not too busy for Rosa, however, Kain hearing her light footsteps on the stairs up to Cecil’s room, sometimes late at night or early before dawn. He thought about purposefully running into her on the stairs or cornering her in the hallway, but wondered what such a confrontation would accomplish besides confusing them both. Rosa and Cecil were a couple now, even if they hadn’t said anything yet and Kain could not bring himself to ask, knowing that it would ignite a jealousy in him he did not think he could withstand. Their unspoken agreement to not acknowledge it made it easier to smile and pretend his heart had moved on.

King Odin’s new lofty ambitions turned Cecil more serious, with less joy and cheer in him than he had in his youth. Kain did not know if the King pushed Cecil further in his dark knight training or if it was the weight of responsibility that had dimmed the light in Cecil. Either way, Kain hated it.

Kain tried to turn to Marion for both comfort and as a distraction, but Marion hadn’t escaped King Odin’s demands either – she and her father were working night and day in the smithy to create new weapons for the influx of new recruits. She saw Kain infrequently in those days, usually in passing in the castle. Sometimes she’d show up at Kain’s room, and he liked those nights the best, because for a few short hours, he could forget himself and his worries. His encounters with Marion lacked the magic of his night with Rosa on Mount Ordeals, but they were a wonder in of themselves. He briefly wondered if Marion and Rosa ever encountered each other in the morning, and he found the thought so uncomfortable he tried not to consider it again.

Since the Mysidian mages’ dismissal and the Crown offering a sizeable sign-on bonus, there had been a wave of new recruits, eager to step in and fill the potential gaps throughout the ranks. New recruits showing any bit of combat training were promoted quickly and soon found themselves field ready.

Religious services, also, had increased in Baron, with more crying divinity over the Crystals and their blessings, and how Baron was entitled to share in the Crystals’ bounty. The street preachers that had set up in the town square frightened Kain with the intensity of their beliefs as they desperately tried to share their messages of the world’s ending. Apparently, man’s greed and darkness were to blame, but Kain found it equally plausible that people would just destroy themselves in the end.

Albert moved to the country, wanting to be closer to his daughter and new grandson. With Albert gone, Marion busy with the smithy and Rosa distracted by Cecil while he was caught up in the King’s agenda, Kain had never felt so alone. His new pessimism thrived in the shadow of his loneliness, nourishing itself on Kain’s growing bitterness. He had always wanted to be Commander of the Dragoons, had lived and breathed that ambition every moment of every day since he could remember. But now that he had it, he felt robbed; the joy had drained out of the achievement by Odin just handing it to him before it was fully earned.

Kain knew how the other soldiers whispered about him now, speculating exactly how Kain had come to be in Odin’s good graces. He tried to ignore the gossip, but it needled at his pride; he wallowed in the unfairness of it all.

Baron seemed to hold its breath, waiting for a command from their King. Kain went to Cid, thinking that any first step would be taken by the Red Wings, and as the Chief Engineer, Cid would be involved in their movement. Kain found Cid in his workshop, looking despondent over a set of blueprints.

“I know as little as you do,” Cid told Kain, sounding tired. “The King only bids our readiness but does not say who we might be fighting.” It was interesting, Kain thought, that Cid assumed that it was a who they might attacking, not a what, such as monsters, as they had in the last years of peace between the nations and communities of the world. “I don’t know what King Odin is up to, which is unusual for us,” Cid continued, lowering his voice. “We haven’t always agreed on everything, but we did talk things out. He doesn’t talk with me anymore.”

“Someone stole your bomb to use for destruction and it killed my father,” Kain said, his deep voice solemn and heavy with weight of his words. “But that wasn’t your fault. But this will be if you let Odin use your ships for unnecessary warfare.”

“You watch your mouth,” Cid countered, shaking his wrench at Kain, his bushy brows knitted together in anger. “I’ve been managing King Odin long before you came along.”

“Then surely you know how odd this all is,” Kain said, taking a cautious step backward from Cid and his wrench. “In all the years you’ve served, has the King ever behaved like this?”

Cid lowered his wrench, looking thoughtful as he considered Kain’s question, his harsh expression softening. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“Just let me know if the airships are called for any unscheduled missions,” Kain asked, casting a look around to make sure no one was close enough to hear him. “If anything happens, it’ll start with the Red Wings.” He paused a moment before adding, “With Cecil. I think this is going to start with Cecil.”

Cid looked briefly stricken but was soon nodding. “You’re right,” he admitted easily.

“So, you’ll tell me?” Kain asked.

Cid closed his eyes, thinking intensely for a long moment. Then, he sighed, his shoulders sinking down. “I’ll tell you,”

“Thank you,” Kain said, his heart swelling with gratitude.

After meeting with Cid, Kain went to the airship bay, looking for Cecil, but could not find him. There seemed to be no more traffic than usual, but there was a strange tension in the air, with a salty aftertaste that lingered in Kain’s nostrils long after he gave up and left.

Instead, Kain left the castle, going into the town. He went first to Rosa’s house, but she did not answer his tapping on her window, and he wasn’t feeling brave enough to try her front door. He did not trust his tongue around Joanna, unsure of what he might say in the face of her usual coldness.

Instead, he found himself at the door of the Weapon Shop but was surprised to find it locked. He tried the Armor shop next door, but found it similarly locked. Kain puzzled over this, wondering why both shops would be closed, and had a nagging feeling that Odin was involved.

Unsatisfied with his trip into town, Kain made his way back to the castle. In the courtyard, he spotted Baigan, Captain of the Guard, talking with several assembled guards. As the Captain of all the domestic forces, both in the castle and in town, Baigan might know why the shops might be closed, and if it had been by royal decree.

Kain approached, offering Baigan a nod when the Captain looked his way. “A word, Captain?”

“Of course, Commander,” Baigan said formally; the other guards stepped away, making space for the two to speak. Baigan was a neat, meticulous man, dressed immaculately in his red and gold uniform, with his short blonde hair severely parted on the side. He wore wide silver shoulder pads and silver boots, which boasted of Baron’s great wealth to attire their officers so decadently.

“Do you know why the Weapon and Armor Shops are closed?” Kain asked once the guards were gone.

Baigan raised an eyebrow. “Because they are busy with the Crown’s needs.”

“But to be closed to civilians?” Kain was surprised; Baron had a long, bloody history of defending itself from encroachers, fiercely fighting off any who came to their shores with conquest in mind. One of the core tenets of Baron citizenship was the right to defend both self and country – and that meant unfettered access to weapons and armor, and the education and training to use them.

Baigan shrugged, seeming indifferent. “A temporary measure, in these uncertain times. Not every peasant needs to have a sword in hand.”

Kain wanted to push more, but he knew Baigan well – the Captain had the ear of the King and would not hesitate to whisper into it. The recent atmosphere made any criticism seem suddenly dangerous.

“Of course,” Kain said tightly, through a clenched jaw. “His Majesty knows best.”

“Do not worry, Commander Highwind,” Baigan said, sounding unusually friendly. “Sometimes, the left and right hand must move without knowing what the other is doing. But remember that the head, your king, knows what he is doing.” Baigan smiled then; there was something eerie about it, like a smile performed by someone that had never tried the expression before and was only imitating what they had seen.

“I understand, sir,” Kain replied, forcing himself to smile back.

Cecil was avoiding him, Kain realized eventually, after a day and a half of trying to chase Cecil down. It only convinced him further that Cecil knew more of Odin’s plans than any of them, and that Cecil would be directly involved in their execution.

Kain thought about just going to Cecil’s door in the evening and knocking on his door, but the possibility of finding Rosa there in Cecil’s bedroom paralyzed him into inaction. And so, Kain waited, drowning in his anxiety about what might happen for days. Finally, before dawn one morning, he woke after a fitful night of sleep to a loud round of knocking on his door, abruptly waking him from another strange dream about distant towers.

It was one of Cid’s assistants, excitedly telling him that the Red Wings were getting their ships ready to launch, and that the big something was finally happening. Kain thanked him and sent the assistant back to Engineering, while Kain hurriedly dressed himself. He practically ran out the door and down the tower stairs, trying to get to the airship bay before anything began. He wasn’t sure what he thought he would do once he was there, only knowing he needed to watch firsthand what was going to unfold, hoping he wouldn’t see Cecil there.

Kain’s heart sank when he entered the airship bay and saw Cecil walking along the docks, looking over the sleek, red-hulled airships all in a neat line, ready to launch. Cecil wore his black armor, the helm’s visor lowered, making him look savage and cruel. The effect was almost enough to keep Kain away, and Kain thought of his long-ago words when Cecil first showed him the armor.

Your enemies will flee at the sight of you, Kain had told Cecil, and now Kain wondered who Cecil was trying to make run away. Who would dare to stand against him?

“Cecil,” Kain said as he approached, then added more formally, “Captain Harvey.” 

“You shouldn’t be here, Kain,” Cecil replied stiffly, not breaking his stride.

Kain sprinted to catch up to Cecil, then matched his pace, walking beside him on the dock.

 “This is a Red Wings mission alone,” Cecil said, his voice muffled through his helm. He did not glance Kain’s way, still looking straight ahead. “No dragoons are needed.”

“What’s the mission?” Kain asked, fighting to keep his tone mild.

The question made finally made Cecil pause, turning to face Kain as he also stopped. Cecil’s dark helmet betrayed nothing, no sense of what Cecil might be thinking or feeling; Kain found it infuriating. “For once, this doesn’t involve you,” Cecil said, and even through the helm, Kain could hear the bitterness in Cecil’s voice.

“If King Odin is—” Kain tried to protest.

“Why are you trying to take this from me?” Cecil interrupted, flinging the question as an accusation. “Just because you can’t have it doesn’t mean you get to ruin it for me. Be jealous if you want but I am tired of this one-sided rivalry,” Cecil paused, to inhale deeply, his shoulders rising and making him look taller. “King Odin picked me, not you,” he said, his voice now cold.

“Cecil…” Kain started but left it unfinished; he had no defense against the truth of Cecil’s words and that made them cut even deeper. “You’re right,” Kain said quietly. “Good luck on your mission.”

Cecil said nothing, only stood there in silence, his helmet never changing.

Kain turned to leave, got a few steps away, then paused. He looked back over his shoulder at Cecil, and he seemed somehow smaller in the armor now, like it was too big for him, his vitality dwindling away. “If you ever want to tell him no,” Kain said. “I want you to know that I’ll still support you.”

“I have to do this,” Cecil said so quietly Kain almost did not hear him. “I do not have a choice.”

“But you do,” Kain protested.

“Kain, please,” Cecil pleaded; it sounded strange coming from his terrifying helmet. “His Majesty has commanded – what else can I do but obey? Do not make this harder than it must be. Please just go.”

What else can I do but obey? Kain thought bitterly. Hadn’t he always done what Cecil wanted? Wasn’t everything always for Cecil? Kain turned away and started walking back down the dock, leaving Cecil behind.

“Kain!” Cecil called out after him; Kain heard Cecil’s heavily booted tread as he took a few uncertain steps toward Kain.

But Kain did not stop, his long-legged stride carrying him quicky off the dock, out of the airship bay, and away from Cecil. For the first time in his life, Kain considered prayer – for Cecil to change his mind about whatever horrible thing he was going to do, and, failing that, for the mission to go well and be over quicky.

Kain found Rosa in the training yard, shooting arrows into a nearby target. He watched her for a moment, as she took aim, her brow furrowed and worried, then fired off several quick consecutive shots, loading each arrow with a speed and efficiency that always surprised Kain.

“Did he tell you?” Rosa asked when Kain finally approached. He shook his head and she sighed. “Me neither,” she admitted quietly.

“Now what?” Kain asked, but before she could answer, wind picked up into a wild flurry around them as the airships started to take off.

Rosa turned to watch them ascend, her hand shielding her eyes as she peered up into the sky. The group of airships expertly maneuvered into position, the ships aligned like a flock of birds flying V formation. Cid’s new engines roared with enthusiasm as the ships took off, streaking off toward the ocean.

“Southeast,” Rosa said as she looked to Kain, her expression grave and serious. “You don’t think they’re going to…” she hesitated, perhaps not wanting to say it out loud.

“Mysidia,” Kain finished for her. “He’s going to Mysidia.”

Chapter Text

In the days that followed Cecil’s departure, Kain found Baron Castle suddenly claustrophobic and too crowded. Around every corner was a new guard; they seemed to be watching him, either with their anonymous helmets or with blank, impassive expressions – both were impossible to interpret. Kain had a strange feeling that the whole castle had eyes on him and could not seem to shake it.

With the Dragoon troops ready and on standby, Kain himself had very little to do but watch the sky for returning airships. He spent most of his days on the roof, trying to catch flashes of red in distant clouds.

In the early evening of the third day, before the sun started its westward descent, Kain sat on Cecil’s roof, his long legs dangling off the edge. The sky above was a perfect blue, with no deceptive clouds for airships to hide behind. Kain felt an inexplicable urge, deep in the muscles of his legs, to Jump – away from Baron and whatever mess Cecil was bringing home with him. But his heart kept him grounded, the weight of his promise to Rosa to support and protect Cecil anchoring him in place.

You could do so much, the wind seemed to whisper, if only you could shed your shackles and follow your desires.

“Kain?” Rosa’s soft voice called out, breaking Kain’s reverie. He glanced over to see her pulling herself up onto the roof. “I thought you might be up here,” she said with a bright smile that usually would have eased some of Kain’s anxiety, but he found the tension in him too tightly strung to be easily alleviated, even by Rosa’s gentle presence.

He offered her a weak smile as she crouched low and made her way over to him, less sure on the slanted roof than Kain. She settled in to sit beside him, also letting her legs hang off the edge. She did not wear her white mage robes today, instead wearing practical trousers and a tunic; it reminded Kain of their time as children and he desperately longed for the simplicity of those years.

They said nothing for a long while, with only the sounds of the wind rustling through the trees’ branches, crinkling dry leaves as it passed through.

“Where’s Marion?” Rosa finally asked, surprising Kain with the question. “I haven’t seen her in town recently.”

“Picking up a delivery of iron from the mountains,” Kain replied gruffly, his voice feeling stiff with disuse. Baron had a series of mines along its northern mountain border, rich with iron deposits. Marion had left just prior to Cecil’s mission, with only a brief note slipped under Kain’s door to explain her sudden absence.

“Demand’s going up?” Rosa asked, trying to keep the tone casual and conversational.

“Seems so,” Kain replied, but did not offer anything more. Silence fell between them once more, but this time it seemed strained and awkward.

Rosa cleared her throat, then shifted, angling to look sideways at Kain. “What will we do once Cecil returns?”

“What is there to do?” Kain asked instead of answering; he felt the heavy weight of her gaze on him but did not look her way, still staring into the sky. “What can we do? Cecil will obey His Majesty’s orders, even if that drags us into an unnecessary war.”

Rosa said nothing; the wind picked up her long hair, throwing it wildly around. She brushed it away from her face, then gathered it to the side. “And if that happens?” she asked after too long in silence. “Will you send your dragoons into war?”

Her question touched on the very thing Kain did not want to think about. “I don’t know,” Kain answered, as honestly as he could. Finally, he glanced at Rosa, and found her watching him, blue eyes full of concern. “Do I follow orders as commanded or abandon my post and flee Baron in protest as a deserter?”

“I would leave with you,” Rosa said softly, almost too quiet for Kain to hear.

“You would?” Kain asked, surprised by her admission. “And what about Cecil?”

The question made Rosa uncomfortable; she looked away and would not meet his eyes as she replied, “We could convince him to come with us.” Then, she added more quietly, “And if he refuses, we could just go ourselves.”

“Rosa…” Kain started to say, but found he had no words to follow.

“We could start over,” Rosa said, and there was a hopefulness in the words that Kain found too tempting to ignore. “We could go to Kaipo and figure it out from there.” She reached over, taking Kain’s hand in hers, her fingers and palm feeling warm and soft as she squeezed his fingers. “Without Baron, or my mother, or…” she hesitated a moment, then continued, “… or anything else in our way.”

Rosa seemed suddenly too close, and Kain was too aware of her. A slight breeze carried the perfume of her hair toward him, and he felt himself tensing in response. He wanted to let go of her hand, to shift away from her, to get away from his best friend’s paramour but found himself unable to move.

“You’re Cecil’s,” Kain said abruptly, as if saying it out loud would make it more true and finally convince both Rosa and his heart.

Rosa frowned. “I do not belong to anyone but myself,” she said.

“I know that, but—” Kain started to say, but something caught his peripheral vision and he looked away from her, seeing a distinctive flash of red in the distant sky. “Is that…?” Kain started to ask; he pulled his hand from Rosa’s, and she did not fight to hold on.

The red dots became more distinct, and Kain could see the fin of each red wing against the blue sky. The Red Wings were approaching, and quickly.

“Cecil,” Rosa announced with a gasp. “Are you going to go?”

“Of course,” Kain answered, surprised by the question – why wouldn’t he? “Cecil will report to King Odin first. I’ll wait for him outside the throne room. No matter what happened on the mission or what’s going to happen next, the three of us will figure it out.”

“What if Cecil doesn’t want our help?” Rosa asked, the question sounding small and unsure. “What if he turns both of us away?”

The idea of Cecil not needing or wanting them anymore made Kain’s heart ache – would Cecil ever really turn them away? Kain had always hated Cecil’s dark knight training and skills but was simultaneously grateful it made Cecil need them both. Would there ever come a day when Cecil wouldn’t? Could he find peace elsewhere?

The airships drew closer, and Kain could now hear their roaring engines and see the wild frenzy of winds they created in the erratic rippling of grass in the surrounding plains around Baron.

“We must help him, whether he wants it or not,” Kain said, pulling his legs up from the roof’s edge. “You’ll be needed in the infirmary in case there’s any wounded. Try and learn what you can about what happened.” Kain stood, then settled into a crouch, preparing to Jump.

“Meet me tonight?” Rosa asked. “We’ll figure out what to do next, together.”

“Together,” Kain repeated and was rewarded with Rosa’s relieved smile.

Kain left Rosa behind on Cecil’s roof, Jumping down from the tower to the castle’s main roof. He moved along, stepping lightly but swiftly, wanting to get to the airship bay before the ships landed and docked.

Kain arrived just as the first ship, Cecil’s own airship, the Scarlet Prelude, finished its landing. The crew moved strangely on the deck, as if mechanical, going through the rote motions of preparing the ship for deboarding. With the gangway lowered, Kain now spotted Cecil in his black armor, as he crossed from the ship to the dock.

Captain Baigan waited on the other side. Kain was too far to hear the conversation, only saw the slump of Cecil’s shoulders as he spoke. What weighed on him so heavily, Kain wondered, as Baigan led Cecil into the castle.

Once they were inside, Kain ran back along the roof, then jumped down into the training yard. From there, he found a door to the inside, following the familiar hallways inward toward the throne room. He arrived just behind Baigan and Cecil, watching their backs as they entered the throne room, the wide double doors left open.

Kain looked around, surprised to see no other guards standing on duty. Not quite believing in his luck, he lingered by the door, out of sight, hoping the voices would carry enough to be heard.

“Have you some other matter to discuss?” Odin’s voice boomed, full of accusation.

“Our king has granted you your leave, and yet you would trouble him further?” Baigan asked, sounding outraged.

“I know it is not my place to ask, Your Majesty, and I pray you can forgive my indiscretion,” Cecil spoke quickly, the words tumbling out of him. “But what is it you aim to do?” The question made Kain’s heart skip a beat – it seemed impossible that Cecil would ever second guess King Odin, but here Cecil was, surprising Kain again. “Your ways are not as they once were,” Cecil continued, sounding mournful. “My men's hearts grow heavy with misgiving.”

“As does yours?” Odin asked in a low tone; it reminded Kain of a crouched animal, ready to strike, just waiting for their prey to misstep.

“Your Majesty, no, I would never doubt,” Cecil protested, voice full of hurt. It gutted Kain to hear, knowing how much Cecil struggled and strived to keep the king happy.

“Do you take me for a fool, Cecil? Do you think your treasonous whisperings escape my ears?” Odin asked but did not pause to let Cecil answer. “After all I've done for you, Cecil...” Odin shook his head, in sad disbelief. “You wound me. This is most unfortunate, but I can place no trust in one who offers none in return. I hereby relieve you of command of the Red Wings.”

“My liege!” Cecil cried out.

“You will go now of the Valley of Mist instead,” Odin continued, ignoring Cecil’s protest. “There is a task I would have you do. A phantom creature haunts the borders of that land – the Eidolon of Mist. You will slay it and deliver this ring to the village that lies beyond - they will know its meaning.” There was no kindness or pity in Odin, his voice hard and demanding. “Be gone at first light on the morrow.”

“Your Majesty!” Kain could bear no more, knowing how much Odin’s rejection would crush Cecil. He wanted to run and shout his protest but forced himself to walk in slowly and to fight any emotion in his voice. Cecil turned to see him approach, and with his helmet’s visor pushed up, Kain saw the relief on Cecil’s face. The sight of it strengthened Kain’s resolve.

Kain stopped, standing shoulder to shoulder next to Cecil. “I beg you, my liege, reconsider!” Kain said, hoping to glimpse some humanity left in Odin. “You know Cecil would not betray you!” After all Cecil had done, how could King Odin doubt him now? After countless wounds and scars, endless nights of hollowing sorrow and doubt, ceaseless pain to be endured – what more could Odin ask of Cecil?

“Ah, Kain. I was not aware this matter concerned you,” King Odin spoke casually, as if Kain’s outburst wasn’t a massive overstep in protocol. “But as you seem so eager to protect your friend, let your lance accompany his blade on the road to Mist.”

“Your Majesty-!” Cecil protested, looking horrified.

“I've no more words. Take the ring and begone, while my mood is yet fair!” Odin boomed his command, passing the ring off to a guard, who descended the stairs down from the throne, handing off the ring to Cecil.

“My liege!” Cecil tried one last time, but the guards flanking the throne came down the stairs, stepping forward to push Kain and Cecil back, crowding them both out of the room. The giant double doors were shut, slamming closed in their faces.

“Kain, forgive me,” Cecil said softly, full of shame. “I did not mean to draw you into this.”

“What's to forgive?” Kain said, trying to sound light. “We'll slay this Eidolon of his and all will be forgotten.” It would be like their childhood games, full of danger and intrigue, but conquerable together, Kain told himself. “You'll be commanding the Red Wings again before you know it.”

“Kain...” Cecil looked aside at Kain, eyes shining with gratitude, a shadow of a smile ghosting his mouth.

“You must be tired from Mysidia, no? Leave the preparations to me and get yourself some rest,” Kain offered, desperate to alleviate more of Cecil’s worries. He wanted to ask more about Mysidia but knew enough to realize it had caused a deep wound in Cecil, one that would be better suited to Rosa. She could coax this out of him, with her gentle presence and thoughtfulness. They would switch off as Cecil needed, as they did in the early days of his dark knight training, as they always did.

“Thank you,” Cecil said, not quite smiling yet but looking less tortured. Still, his dark knight armor looked especially heavy as he walked away.

A dozen errands sprang to mind, all necessary before their departure tomorrow morning. The solarium, a bright point of sun and sky in the middle of the dark castle, served as a popular gathering place for Baron’s Dragoon troops, and Kain found several of them gathered there.

Kain was in the middle of explaining the unexpected mission to them, and what would need to be done in his absence, when, to Kain’s surprise, Cecil entered the solarium. He still wore his dark knight armor, looking like a terrible shadow in the bright, cheerful room.

“What is it?” Kain asked, as he approached Cecil, speaking quietly as to not be overhead by his dragoons.

“This is all my doing,” Cecil said, sounding morose. “Forgive me.”

“I told you, there's nothing to forgive,” Kain said, wishing Cecil would hate himself just a little less. “What's wrong? It isn't like you to act like this.”

“I did not train in the way of the dark sword so I could steal from innocents, Kain,” Cecil said, admitting more about the Mysidia mission than Kain expected him to. “I trained because His Majesty asked it of me.”

“You mustn't blame yourself for the orders you were given,” Kain said quietly, casting an unsure glance around them, worried someone might overhear. “Our king had his reason, I'm sure of it.”

“I envy you, Kain,” Cecil murmured, so soft Kain almost did not hear, his eyes looking far away and lost.

“Don't overthink things, Cecil. You need to keep your wits about you,” Kain replied, wondering what would compel Cecil to be envious, when Cecil had everything Kain did not. What was left to envy? “Or do you mean to send me off against the Eidolon alone?” Kain tried to sound lighthearted, to poke at Cecil as he always did, to prompt some witty retort from Cecil.

“Of course not,” Cecil said, his voice neutral, not rising to Kain’s bait.

“We leave early on the morrow,” Kain said, sounding resigned. “Best get some sleep.”

Wordlessly, Cecil left, his shoulders still slumped. Kain watched him go, hoping Rosa would fare better.

Kain waited, perched on castle’s roof, watching the tower’s door for any moving shadows. He knew Rosa less by sight and more by recognizing the distinct scrape of her shoes on the ground, having her own unique step and gait.

Kain jumped down from the roof; he did not wear his armor and landed soundlessly beside Rosa.

Startled by Kain’s unexpected presence, Rosa jumped, then relaxed when she saw him.

“What did Cecil tell you?” Kain asked, without preamble.

“He told me nothing,” Rosa said, her voice sounding fraught with emotion. “He wouldn’t even look at me. He…” Rosa looked up to the darkening sky, struggling to find the right words. “The Red Wings attacked Mysidia, stole their Water Crystal, and killed innocent mages.” Then, more quietly, she added, “Under Cecil’s command.”

“How do you know this?” Kain asked, afraid to believe her.

“They brought back prisoners of war,” Rosa replied, still not looking his way. “Mysidian mages who tried to stop the Red Wings from stealing the Crystal. I treated them in the infirmary before they were taken to the dungeons. And they’re the lucky ones – others were slain outright.” Rosa put her face in her hands, her next words muffled. “Kain, I knew these mages! I worked side by side with them, they weren’t our enemy. What is Baron doing? And more importantly, what is Cecil doing?”

“I don’t know,” Kain admitted quietly, not knowing what words might soothe her.

“And now you two are off to slay a mysterious Eidolon, while Baron’s war machine keeps churning.” She looked up from her hands, and Kain was surprised by the shine of tears in her eyes. “What will you two do without me?”

“Exactly what His Majesty commands,” Kain said, trying to sound certain and reassuring. “After we return to Mist, all will be well again.”

“And if it’s not?” Rosa asked, pressing on the uncomfortable topic Kain was trying to avoid. “What if something happens to you while you’re gone? To Cecil? What if Baron declares open war?”

“If something happens,” Kain said, slowly inhaling, trying to feel steady. “Then we’ll do as you said, we’ll all go to Kaipo.”

“But if you can’t get there—”

“Then I’ll meet you in Damcyan, or Fabul, or Troia,” Kain spoke over her, feeling suddenly inspired. He took her hand in his, and the gesture made her step closer. “Or anywhere else. Wherever you go, I’ll find you, and we’ll all be together. No matter what might happen.”

“Do you promise?” Rosa asked, sounding small.

“I promise,” Kain said, his heart seized with his old possessiveness – of her, of Cecil, of their shared relationship, wanting to protect it from all that might mean them harm. His thumb brushed the underside of her wrist, and he felt her fluttering pulse there; he pressed in, and her pulse jumped wildly beneath.

“Don’t,” Rosa pleaded, but did not withdraw from him. “Do not be cruel and torment me like this. You want me to be with Cecil, yet you still watch me with desire and longing. My heart cannot bear it anymore. You keep me perpetually trapped and it is unfair. How can I move on if you won’t let me?”

“I don’t know how,” Kain admitted. He gripped her wrist, and tugged her in closer, and was not surprised when she moved in willingly. Only inches apart, she peered up at him, watching him cautiously; he saw the rise and fall of her chest as she carefully breathed, as if she were prey who had scented danger on the wind. But why wasn’t she running, Kain wondered, then pushed aside the thought. It gave him the same feeling of superiority of whenever he bested Cecil in fighting or at a task, only this had a dark, greedy current in it that was too tempting to ignore.

“You need to let me go,” Rosa said softly. “It is, as you have said countless times, for the best.”

“I am too selfish,” Kain said as he touched her jaw, angling her face upward. “I want too many things. You must tell me no.”

“My heart will not let me,” Rosa admitted, and Kain realized she was waiting for him. He leaned down and brushed a light kiss against her mouth, then heard her trembling exhale in response. “Bring Cecil back to me,” she said, lips moving against his as she spoke, their breath mingling. “Can you do that? If I asked you?”

“Anything,” Kain replied, not bothered by her mention of Cecil, without a spike of jealousy or resentment, knowing she asked because it was what she needed of him. His hand at her jaw drifted, skimming down her neck, then settling lightly around the column of her throat. Like her wrist before, he felt her pulse there, only now it hammered heavily against his palm. “I would do anything for you.”

“Then go,” Rosa said, swallowing hard. She turned her head aside, color high in her cheeks. “And do not make our parting harder than it needs to be.”

Kain might have ignored her, kissing her again, and again, until she forgot all her protests, but there was a nearby rattle of armor, the telltale sound of a guard on the move, bringing Kain back to reality. He released Rosa, stepping back from her, putting needed space between them. “I’ll go,” he said stiffly. “And I’ll bring him back to you.”

“Thank you,” Rosa said with a relieved exhale, but by his words or his movement away, Kain was not sure. The clink of armor sounded closer now. “Go, so you can be ready for tomorrow.”

“Do not wait for us at the gate,” Kain told her as he backed up further, settling into a slight crouch. “It will only make it difficult for Cecil.” He hesitated, then added, “And me.” He did not wait for her response before taking off, Jumping back up to the roof, into the cool arms of the wind to try and calm his pounding heart.

What am I doing? he asked himself, knowing he was playing a dangerous game with Rosa, but he found it hard to care, only encouraged by the excited fear in her eyes. He wondered if Rosa ever gave Cecil the same look but somehow doubted it, the possibility making him smirk.

Sleep eluded him, long into the late hours of the night, finding only a few fitful hours before dawn crested the eastern horizon. Kain rose, dressed himself, then donned his armor, the task made somehow easier knowing he would be standing shoulder to shoulder with Cecil, fighting together. Kain gathered a few provisions, then went to the castle’s front gate.

Kain did not wait long, Cecil arriving only minutes later.

“Shall we, then, Cecil?” Kain asked, as Cecil approached.

“I'll be counting on you, my friend,” Cecil replied, and Kain could hear genuine gratitude in his words.

“Then you've nothing to fear,” Kain said, Cecil’s faith in him making him stand taller, feeling somehow stronger by it. No matter the danger, Kain would step between it and Cecil, protecting him always.

Together, they left the castle.

Chapter Text

After stopping for more supplies in town, Kain and Cecil left Baron on foot, traveling north until they hit the Baron River, which originated in the northern mountains and ended on the southeast coast, dumping into the sea. They followed the river northwest. The air by the water was cooler, so although the weather was sunny, the calm breeze kept them from sweating in their armor as they trekked.  

They did not speak much on this part of the journey. Cecil brooded silently, his eyes always distant on the horizon, and Kain could sense the turmoil churning around him. But Kain had no words to offer, as Rosa always did, so he said nothing.  

The first night, they rested under the open sky, by the banks of the river, the ground soft enough to lie upon. Baron seemed so far away then, the nighttime sounds of the burbling river and chirping crickets coaxing them to sleep.  

It was only after the sun had set, now surrounded by darkness, that Kain finally felt brave enough to ask – “What happened in Mysidia?”  

“I butchered innocents, for greed and power,” Cecil answered stiffly, shifting to roll to his side, facing away from Kain now. “What more is there to say?”  

Again, Kain had no words, so he said nothing. He did not know how to counsel Cecil to seek forgiveness, when Kain himself could not even admit his own wrongdoings. And although they seemed so much smaller in the face of Cecil’s sins, Kain found he could not minimize them under the intense weight of his guilt and shame.  

Cecil was so close yet so far away, and Kain found his frustration boiling within him, not knowing what to say or do to make either of them feel better. He thought of Rosa and the easy way she knew how to comfort their injuries, to both their bodies and their spirits. Kain missed her more than he ever had before, and wondered if Cecil felt the same.  

The next day, they left the river behind, now traveling northwest. The mountains loomed high on the horizon, becoming larger and more imposing as they drew closer. They followed the winding path that split the mountain range in half, now going straight north.  

They found the Misty Cave at the base of the mountain, nearly lost to the overgrown trees and shrubbery that surrounded it.  

It was Kain’s idea to make camp outside the Cave, to start the journey fresh in the morning, and was surprised when Cecil agreed readily to it. The ground was less forgiving this high up near the mountains, carrying more of a chill, so they set up a tent and small campfire beside it.  

Kain was resigned to another night of tense silence, but it was Cecil this time who spoke first, asking cautiously, “May I ask something… personal?” They sat on opposite sides of the fire, the sky only just now starting to darken around them, Cecil’s gray eyes reflected the dancing flames between them as he watched Kain.  

“Of course,” Kain replied, trying to sound casual. “What is it?”  

Cecil hesitated, and for a moment, Kain thought Cecil might have lost his courage to ask. “You and Marion,” Cecil blurted out, so abruptly that Kain nearly jumped. “Was it easy to figure out what to do?” He cleared his throat, then added, “And how to do it?”  

“Do you mean…?” Kain started to ask, and was surprised to find Cecil blushing, looking aside in sudden embarrassment. “Haven’t you and…” Kain found he could not say Rosa’s name then, it seeming suddenly taboo to specify. “I thought you had already…” Kain said instead, then stopped at Cecil’s abruptly shaking head.  

“Not everything,” Cecil mumbled, still not looking directly at Kain, color still high in his cheeks. “Not… you know,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “She wants to take things slowly, but now I worry I won’t know what to do once she is ready.”  

“Don’t overthink things,” Kain said, for the second time in as many days. “You’ll figure it out, together.” He tried not to think of Rosa, present and willing with Kain, but keeping Cecil at arm’s length, and what that might mean. The feeling of superiority filled his chest, making him draw in a deep breath. He fought to keep a grin from his mouth, trying to keep his voice neutral. “When you are both ready.”  

“You think so?” Cecil asked, sounding suddenly hopeful, unaware of Kain’s guilty struggle between shame and pride. Kain nodded and saw some of the tension leaving Cecil on a relieved exhale. “Thank you,” Cecil said, full of gratitude. “I know you are always looking out for me. I cannot tell you how much I need our brotherhood.”  

“I know,” Kain said, both elated and disappointed by Cecil’s words, conflicted as always. “We should rest. Tomorrow may hold more adventure than we expect.”  

“If only,” Cecil said, finally cracking a smile. Kain found himself returning it.  

The Misty Cave was exactly as its name implied – misty, filled with a dense fog. The humidity made the air thick and heavier, and Kain found himself sweating through first his shirt, then the inner padding of his armor. They made slow progress through the cave, climbing over slick rocks and wading through shallow pools formed from the dripping ceiling overhead.   

From the moment they entered the cave, Kain could not shake the sense of being watched. It made him check constantly over his shoulder, feeling the weight of someone’s eyes on his back, but finding nothing but the mist behind him.  

Kain wondered if Cecil felt the same and was about to ask, then Cecil paused, head tilted, as if he listened for approaching footsteps. When none came, Cecil exchanged an uncertain look with Kain.  

“I feel a presence,” Cecil said. “It is not hostile, but nor could it be called friendly.”  

“Leave this place…” a soft, ethereal voice called out its warning, before Kain could reply.  

Kain pulled his lance from his back, while Cecil drew his black blade, both glancing around for the source, but finding none.   

“Who's there!?” Cecil demanded, but the voice did not answer him.  

Uneasily, they lowered their weapons, and continued.  

“Return whence you came,” the voice warned again, as they made progress through the cave’s winding, circuitous path.   

“That voice - could it be the Eidolon?” Kain asked, but Cecil had no answer, only mutely shaking his head.  

Finally, the path turned north, and as they climbed the stone steps upward, the afternoon sun beckoned through the open mouth of the cave ahead.  

“Men of Baron...” the dreamy voice returned, invoking an old fey magic by naming them.  

“You know who we are?” Cecil asked, looking around frantically.  

“Leave at once, and no harm will befall you,” the voice said instead of answering. “I will abide no further trespass.”  

“Show yourself!” Kain demanded, taking a step forward with his drawn lance.  

“You mean to ignore my warning?” the voice asked, full of a strange melancholy.  

“We must deliver this ring to the village of Mist beyond!” Cecil said, reluctantly drawing his sword.  

“So be it,” the voice said with a sense of forlorn finality. The mist seemed suddenly thicker, heavier in the air. No, Kain realized, it was --  

“The mist is gathering!” Kain warned, staggering back as the mist took shape into a white dragon. It stretched out its long neck, its curling tail ended in a fan of green feathers on either side. Its head came down, reaching toward them with a snapping mouth.  

Cecil scrambled back and drew his shield up, ready to meet the dragon’s greedy jaws, while Kain took off in a Jump, up into the Cave’s dark ceiling. From up high, Kain watched Cecil strike at the dragon’s side, splashing blood across its white scales. The dragon pulled back, rearing up, giving Kain an easy opening on the dragon’s exposed neck. With his lance aimed downward, Kain let himself fall.  

It was halfway through Kain’s descent when the dragon suddenly dissipated, its body no longer corporeal, leaving only swirling mist in its wake. Caught off guard by the inexplicable change, Kain hit the ground hard, not prepared for the landing. Dizzied by the impact, Kain struggled to get to his feet. Cold, stabbing fingers bit into his flesh, probing and pressing deep, leaving Kain chilled in their wake; when he exhaled, his breath turned to ice in the air, then fell, shattering as it hit the ground. The crippling cold drove him to his knees, and Kain found himself crawling along the ground, trying to pull himself free from the freezing mist.  

“Cecil…” Kain croaked out weakly, reaching out with desperate fingers, unseen into the fog.  

But Cecil found him, circling arm around Kain’s, pulling him free from the greedily reaching mist, and up to his feet. The mist recoiled back from Cecil, then swirled as it started to materialize again, resuming its dragon form. Roaring in outrage, the dragon opened its mouth, reaching for Kain, but Cecil stepped ahead, meeting the dragon’s teeth with his sword and shield.  

Kain watched Cecil, now wreathed in purple smoke, send an inky wave of Darkness from his black blade at the dragon. The Mist dragon threw its head back in a wordless cry of pain, as dancing white lights swirled around it, engulfing its large form. The lights grew brighter, too dazzling to look directly at, and Kain shielded his eyes. When he looked again, the lights, and the Mist dragon, were gone.  

Cecil was beside Kain, handing him an uncorked Potion, which Kain took and drank gratefully, feeling the cold, aching pain in his muscles gradually loosen, allowing him movement again.  

“Strange,” Cecil remarked as he offered a hand to Kain, then pulled Kain to his feet. “I felt no malice in that dragon, no evil.”  

“There was little sport in that,” Kain grunted as he stood. “But it is done. Now, to deliver that ring…”  

The village of Mist sat both protected and isolated by the surrounding mountains. Kain watched as Cecil paused to consider the tall, craggy peaks, head tipped back as he looked over the size of them all.  

“Not enough space to land an airship?” Kain asked.  

“No,” Cecil answered, his voice quiet. “Small wonder His Majesty sent us by foot.” He reached into the pack at his side, withdrawing the ring that Odin had entrusted to him. “He said they would understand the message,” Cecil muttered, more to himself than to Kain.   

Kain had no wisdom to offer, so he said nothing as they began to approach the small village. They passed through the village’s entrance, the central road branching off into small side streets, each lined with modest but well-built houses.  

“The ring!” Cecil cried out, startling Kain. He looked over to see Cecil’s hand holding a bright red spark. The ring exploded into fiery red balls, swirling outward and growing rapidly in the rich air of the village. As they grew, they circled high above Kain and Cecil’s head, before exploding out, streaking off to carry flames around the village.  

Around them, chaos erupted as the flames caught hold, some clinging to the dry roofs of the houses, others to villagers themselves, crawling up their clothing, consuming their bodies within an endless appetite. Screams of pain and distress joined in the roar of the fire and cracking wood as several buildings collapsed in on themselves.  

Cecil stood in mute disbelief as the fire raged on around them.  

“This is what we were sent to do?” Cecil finally asked, his hands helpless at his sides.  

“He wished this village torched,” Kain said, his deep voice solemn. “But why?”  

“WHY!?” Cecil seized on the question, screaming up toward the sky. When all the air left his lungs, Cecil leaned forward, hands braced on his thighs, breathing heavily.  

Over Cecil’s labored exhales and the crackle of the fire around them, Kain heard a child weeping. Cecil must have heard it as well, exchanging an unsure look with Kain, before following the sound further into the village.  

Beside a small pond, a small, green-haired child wept over a woman’s body.  

“Mother, you can't die! Just because your dragon did...” The girl sobbed, shaking the woman’s shoulders. Even at this distance, Kain could tell the woman was no longer alive, her chest still and unmoving.  

“I've heard of their lot,” Kain said, looking aside to Cecil. “Men who can conjure Eidolons - summoners.”   

“Then the dragon we slew was her mother's?” Cecil asked, the question full of horror.  

They were close enough to be overheard, Kain realized, as the girl looked up, then back over her shoulder at them. Then she stood, disbelief battling with anger on her young face. “You - you're the ones who killed her dragon?” she asked, a hand at her open mouth.  

“Forgive us,” Cecil said, stepping toward the girl, his palms open to show her that he bore no weapon. “We'd no idea this would happen to your mother.”  

“His Majesty sent us to eliminate every last one of these people,” Kain said, trying to be quiet, watching the girl with caution.   

“No...” Cecil fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what Odin had ordered – and what Cecil himself had done.  

“Foul work, to be sure,” Kain had his lance in his hands – he did not remember drawing it, or know what he was saying until the words were in his mouth. “But we'll need to kill the girl as well.” He took a determined step toward the girl, his lance pulled back to strike.  

“Kain!” But Cecil was on his feet again, catching Kain by the shoulders, halting Kain's approach toward the girl.   

“It's her or us, Cecil,” Kain said, his voice stiff. He was suddenly terrified by both what he was suggesting, and that Cecil would agree with him. He wondered if Cecil had posed the same to the Red Wings crew when they slaughtered the Mysidians. Would Kain agree to this terrible task if Cecil commanded it?  

“She's a child!” Cecil protested, looking back at the girl with a new fear in his eyes.  

“You'd betray your king?” Kain asked softly, praying that this might finally mean that Cecil could stand up to Odin, to tell him no, to choose the best path for himself instead of what Odin wanted.  

“Betray him? Any man who'd wish for this is no king of mine,” Cecil answered, surprising Kain with the conviction in his voice.  

“Heh,” Kain let out a small laugh, unable to help himself. The whole situation seemed terribly absurd at that moment, with the flames raging around them, and the girl still watching them with fearful eyes. “I thought you might say that,” Kain said, secretly relieved that it would not be his own decision to defy the king, but Cecil’s – and that somehow made this all easier. Kain could not help the smirk that tugged on his mouth.  

“Then...?” Cecil started to ask, with too much hope hinging on the unfinished question.   

“I owe His Majesty much but not so much I'd soil the Dragoons' name in this,” Kain said, turning to face Cecil, holding his lance upright and at the ready.  

“Then you're with me?” Cecil asked, not quite believing Kain.  

“Baron's army is the mightiest in the world,” Kain said instead of answering directly. He took a few steps away from Cecil, looking at the burning and dying village around them. “Our fight means nothing if we remain alone. We must treat with other nations, share what we've seen.” Kain hesitated, then glanced back at Cecil and added, “And Rosa - she must share our fight.” Kain knew, now more than ever, that he could never hope to leave her behind again. Being without either of them felt like he was missing a limb.  

“And she will,” Cecil said with a relieved exhale. “Thank you.”  

“I'm not doing this for you,” Kain muttered, the words leaping out before he could stop them. He realized it was true – this wasn’t for Cecil, or possibly even Rosa anymore, it was to redeem Baron from King Odin’s greed, to bring it back on the noble path of the Dragoons. As his father would have done.   

“Huh?” Cecil asked, perhaps thinking he misheard Kain.  

“Quickly, we mustn't linger here!” Kain redirected, seeing the flames rage on higher and hotter.  “What of the girl?”   

“We take her with us,” Cecil answered, as if it were both easy and obvious. He approached the girl, who was still crying over her mother’s body, and knelt beside her. “Come, it's not safe here,” Cecil said gently. “Take my hand.”   

“No!” The girl cried as she got to her feet, backing away from Cecil and Kain.  

“We're wasting time,” Kain grumbled, keeping a wary eye on the inferno around them. “Use force if you must.”  

“Stay away!” The girl warned, as she backed away, then took off in a run, deeper into the burning village.  

“Wait!” Cecil cried out, before chasing after her, with Kain trailing in Cecil’s wake.   

She ran toward a house but was cornered on all sides by the raging fire around them. She stopped abruptly, turning around to face them. “Leave me alone!” she demanded, even as Cecil and Kain drew closer. “I HATE YOU!” she screamed, as a yellow light built up from the ground beneath her.   

The world began to shake beneath them, rattling the houses around them, until a giant fist punched upward, puncturing the earth from below. A massive earthen hand reached out, then another, pulling itself free from the ground, rocks exploding outward. A giant stood from the crack in the earth, easily taller than the mountains that surrounded them.   

Lifting both of its fists high up into the air, the giant swung them down, hitting the ground with a bone rattling force. A fissure in the earth formed, then cracked wide open with the force of the titan’s blow, sending rock and debris flying everywhere.   

Kain and Cecil, although standing together, were thrown apart by the force of the quake. Uselessly, Kain reached after Cecil, calling his name into the chaos, even as the earth opened to swallow them whole.   

Kain opened his eyes to darkness. At first, he mistook it for night. But as he tried to move his legs, then arms, and found them both pinned in place, he realized that he was trapped, buried under the shifting rubble from the earthquake. His armor kept him safe from suffocation, having enough room to breathe, but little else beyond that.  

Feeling panic creep up his throat, threatening to make him scream, Kain swallowed hard, trying to chase the taste of fear away and stay calm. He tried rocking his body in any direction, trying to wiggle out as much room as he could, but there was little movement in the stubborn rocks around him. He did not even know which direction was up or if he looked up to it.  

“Help!” he shouted, knowing he would be too muffled to hear unless someone was nearby. He desperately hoped Cecil had managed to stay topside during the earthquake and was looking for him. “HELP!” Kain yelled again, finding it suddenly harder to breathe.  

By some miracle, Cecil must have found him, as the rocks overhead began moving, sunlight shining through the exposed cracks. Kain wiggled his arm up toward the slice of sky, fingers straining. “Cecil!” he called out, “I’m here!”  

“I found him!” A woman’s voice declared triumphantly. She sounded so familiar, like a fading memory from childhood he struggled to recall. More rocks shifted around him, a gap forming overhead. Someone appeared, peering down at him, and for one delirious moment, he thought it was Rosa, with her blonde hair framing her face, the sun above her forming a golden halo around her head. But the woman grinned, looking wild and feral with her pointed teeth, removing any resemblance to Rosa. She reached in, hand stretching toward him, and grabbed him by the forearm.  

With a strength that surprised Kain, the woman pulled, yanking him up from the rubble. Kain gasped with grateful lungs as he was pulled free. “Thank you,” Kain said, as he pushed himself to a stand, looking up to consider his rescuer.  

The woman was a strange creature, not looking entirely human; her long blonde hair surrounded her like protective clothing, and it was only when she moved that Kain realized she wore little beside it, her slim golden limbs exposed through her parted hair. She seemed amused, yellow eyes hiding some unspoken joke at Kain’s expense.  

“Richard!” she called out over her shoulder, her voice carrying on the drifting wind, “Over here!”  

Still dazed, Kain followed the line of her gaze, watching in disbelief as a figure in black draconic armor approached – it was not armor Kain recognized from any of his Dragoons.   

“Wh…” Kain tried to ask but found he could not form words. Was he dreaming? Or had he died in the earthquake, and this was the afterlife greeting him? Surely it could not be…  

The figure reached for their helmet, pushing up the visor.   

“Hello, son,” Richard Highwind said with a grin. “Are you ready to change the world?”  

Chapter Text

In the stories of old, dragoons didn’t ride the skies alone. Instead, the legends told of the extraordinary bond between a dragoon and their dragon, raised together since infancy, as close as blood siblings. Being a dragoon was not something a person decided on a whim; one had to be born into it, paired with a dragon egg just as their mothers’ bellies began to show.

It was an inheritance passed down through the generations, creating a sense of reverence for those privileged enough to be dragon riders. In battle, they were like gods astride their fearsome companions, striking in terrifying tandem, claws and teeth joining lances and spears, tearing all asunder. Together, they were both deadly and beautiful, slicing through the sky with an unparalleled grace.

The story goes that the first eggs were offered freely. It is said the Dragon Queen happened upon a man who was hunting in the wild. She watched him as he stalked his prey, then struck it down with a single, precise throw of his spear. His efficient kill both impressed and inspired the Dragon Queen, who found herself admiring the noble hunter. She revealed herself to him and invited him to join her on a real hunt. The man obliged, sitting astride the Dragon Queen, clinging tight to the hard scales of her spine as she took off into the air.

Together, they hunted through the sky, riding through the winds in search of prey. In some versions of the story, the Dragon Queen transformed into a human woman, and they coupled midair.

They would have continued forever, but the Dragon Queen heard a trumpeting call, beckoning her back home. At the same time, the man heard panicked cries below, shouting out his name. The Dragon Queen brought the man back to the earth, where his betrothed waited with relieved tears and open arms. Overhead, a dark shadow circled the sky, letting out another thunderous bellow – it was the Dragon King, summoning his wife back to his side.

Forlorn, they parted and did not meet again until many years later, when the man was again hunting, now teaching his young son. The Dragon Queen, flying overhead, spotted them, and recognized her beloved hunter despite the years. Descending on a wild whirlwind, the Dragon Queen presented herself to the man again. Only this time, she was not alone, a shy drake at her side, who peered out curiously at the boy.

It was the boy who first recognized a heart kinship, approaching the drake with open arms, calling him brother. From that moment on, they were inseparable. The Dragon Queen and man realized their bond right away and agreed then that their childhoods would be spent together, alternating time between dragons and humans, to learn from both. They would learn how to fight, hunt, and fly together, and become more formidable than any dragon or man alone.

When the boy grew to manhood, he brought his son hunting, as his father before him, and together they met the Dragon Queen, who found the son similarly noble and worthy, and bestowed an egg to hatch and raise.

Whether the legend was true, and the first dragon eggs were indeed voluntary, no one knows for certain, but contemporary dragons have always been aggressive to any near their eggs or den. If a dragoon wanted his child to have a dragon, they’d have to steal one in stealth or face a dragon mother’s wrath.

Family stories passed down tales of epic hunts, searching for well-hidden dragon dens, hoping to secret an egg out before the mother returned. They told of dangerous battles, sometimes having to kill a mother to get access to her eggs. There were attempts to breed them in captivity, but the resulting offspring were sickly and weak at birth and did not survive their infancy. Only wild eggs could produce a strong enough dragon worthy of a dragoon.

Gradually, over the generations, the eggs became scarcer. Either the dragon mothers had found better places to hide their nests, or they simply migrated to other lands. The result was the same, there were fewer dragon-rider dragoons every year.

Eventually, there were no more eggs, and dragon riding became a myth of the past. Richard had once spoken of his grandfather, who told a story about his grandfather being the last dragoon to successfully hunt an egg. It did not survive, however, and the Highwinds lost their claim to the sky.

It was the invention of the airship that brought dragoons back up into the sky again, giving them back the freedom of the winds. Richard told Kain about his first Jump from the deck of an airship with a nostalgic awe that stirred a desperate yearning in Kain for the same, fueling his ambition to be just like his father.

“You’re dead,” Kain croaked, suddenly terrified that the figure before him was the result of dark, unholy magic, some twisted undead creature he left behind on Mount Ordeals. “You died in an airship crash eleven years ago,” Kain fought to keep his voice neutral, but the words came out as an accusation.

“I Jumped away from an airship crash,” Richard corrected Kain, his expression now sober, the humor gone.

“Over the ocean!” Kain countered, desperately drowning in a dangerous mix of anger, relief, and utter confusion. “How did you survive? And if you’ve been alive all these years, why didn’t you…” Ultimately, it was hurt that won out; Kain was suddenly ten years old again, his first night alone in Baron castle, his heart gnawing itself raw with grief, with years of loneliness stretched out before him. Kain found himself unable to finish, his newfound sorrow too overwhelming for words.

Is this what betrayal feels like? Kain wondered at this new wound.

“There is much to explain,” Richard said through a clenched jaw. Then, he peered up, squinting against the bright sun overhead. Kain followed Richard’s gaze and saw an airship, circling high overhead, its red hull bright against the blue of the sky. “But first, we need head back to Baron.”

“They cannot land here,” Kain said, turning around in a circle, observing the jagged mountain peaks that crowded together. And even if they could navigate the narrow space between mountain ranges, there was no safe place to land, with all the broken earth and rubble.

“They won’t have to,” Richard remarked, now grinning again. He lowered his helm’s visor, then turned to the strange golden woman, who had been watching their exchange without comment. “Shall we, Barbariccia?”

“It’s too high up to Jump,” Kain protested, this time exasperated.

The woman ignored Kain, stepping forward to take Richard’s hand in hers. She offered her other hand to Kain, who stared at her dumbly, uncomprehending.

“You know me, Kain Highwind,” Barbariccia said, her voice surprisingly gentle, like a soft, tickling breeze leaving lazy footprints on the surface of calm water. “Think about it,” she suggested softly. A light breeze drifted in, lightly pulling at Kain’s hair, sending the blond strands streaming to the side.

Kain blinked hard and in that instant, he remembered and knew – she had permeated every dream he’d ever had of open, blue skies, the lure of freedom on each distant horizon. He had always been alone in those dreams, exhilarated yet desperately lonely. He yearned for autonomy over his own life, but also for the confinement of company, and knowing these wants were at odds. But weren’t all Kain’s desires in perpetual conflict? Now Kain knew otherwise – he hadn’t been alone.

Even outside of dreams, Barbariccia had been there, drifting in on the wind, filling his lungs, guiding him through the currents, untangling his messy thoughts and leaving them behind, giving him a rare clarity of mind. He knew her soft sighs and screaming gales, her teasing playfulness and her angry demanding pushes.

Kain could only stare at Barbariccia, wordless and dumbfounded.

Barbariccia smiled, and it was not like Rosa the beaming sun or Cecil the dazzling moon, with Kain’s heart caught hopelessly between them. Instead, it had the hint of something wild, with just a slight peek at her pointed teeth. “And I know you,” she said, offering her hand again.

She did know him, Kain realized. For a moment, he wallowed in mortified shame, rethinking every whispered confession he’d given to the wind; his lonely nights on Cecil’s roof and seeking relief in the cool fingers of the night’s breeze; even his time on Mount Ordeals with Rosa, the wind rattling the branches of a nearby tree.

But Barbariccia still stood there, her hand outstretched. She knew his guilt and shame intimately and did not turn away. It seemed a marvel to Kain, this unconditional acceptance of his flaws and sin. Inexplicably, he thought of his mother, and he wondered if she would have loved him this much if she knew the depths of him, originally hollowed out by her own greedy darkness.

Taking Barbariccia’ s hand was the easiest decision of Kain’s life.

Beside them, Richard’s black helmet watched them, saying nothing.

“Jump!” Barbariccia commanded, and Kain both heard and felt it all around him, like a loud clap of thunder too close by. Kain’s muscles obeyed before he could really think about it; he crouched, then took off into a Jump, leaving the broken earth behind.

The wind overwhelmed him, launching him high into the sky, faster than he’d ever Jumped before. He fell artlessly through it, fumbling, but then felt Barbariccia’ s careful grip on his hand, pulling him back upright. She was all around him, ruffling his hair, soothing his anxiety, encouraging him to go higher, faster, to never turn back…

Kain hit the deck of the airship hard, distracted and unprepared for sudden landing. He rolled to his back, staring up at the sky, too stunned for words. Barbariccia looked down at him, offering him a grin. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Not too used to it,” Richard muttered in a low voice.

With a groan, Kain pulled himself to his feet, blinking hard to clear his mind. Barbariccia was looking at Richard with an arched brow but saying nothing. Around them, the Red Wings crew worked without comment, no one looking surprised at their arrival.

“Let’s go inside and talk,” Richard finally said, sounding less terse this time. He did not wait for an answer, only turned around and headed for a nearby cabin door.

Barbariccia trailed behind Richard, but glanced back at Kain once, beckoning him with her eyes alone.

Still in a stupor, Kain followed.

Kain knew the airships, not as well as Cid or Cecil, and not in the same way. Kain knew the ships by the currents they left in their wake, in the outward ripples from the roaring engines, by the tilt of the deck under his feet as the ship dived into the wind.

Inside the Captain’s cabin, it was the last detail that finally stirred Kain from his dazed stupor, recognizing the ship by how it began to move, the engines shuddering into use. He blinked hard, trying to clear his head, and looked around the Captain’s Quarters, realizing he knew them well.

This was the Scarlet Prelude, Kain realized. This was Cecil’s ship, but Cecil wasn’t here.

“Did you find Cecil?” Kain asked, then quickly corrected himself, “Captain Harvey? Did you find him?”

Richard didn’t answer right away, instead taking his helmet off, setting it carefully aside on a desk that was tucked into the cabin’s narrow corner. It used to be Cecil’s desk, but now it was cleared of his few personal effects – a miniature mechanical model of Cid’s first airship; an arrow from Rosa’s quiver; a black chocobo feather, a token said to protect travelers in the sky -- so said the nomadic merchant when Kain had bought it for Cecil when he first became a pilot. Now, Richard put something on Cecil’s desk that didn’t belong there and that action unnerved Kain.

“We haven’t found him yet, but he’s a trained soldier. It’s expected that he survived and will make his way to Kaipo. From there he can request assistance getting back to Baron, and report back to Lord Golbez.” Richard said, the tone dismissive. “What happened in Mist?” he continued, before Kain had a chance to reply. “Was the earthquake the result of a summon? Did any summoners survive?”

When Kain said nothing, Richard frowned; he looked strangely alien to Kain, as if Kain’s memories of his father were cast in a strange light that made Richard look different than he actually was.

“Report, Commander Highwind,” Richard said tersely, his jaw tight, the expression uncomfortably familiar to Kain.  

“To whom?” Kain countered, his grief evolving into anger. “Just who are you here, on a Red Wings ship? And how are you here?”

“There have been many changes since you were last in Baron,” Richard said. “Including a new Captain of the Red Wings, who has sent me here to deal with fall out of the Mist Operation.”

“Operation?” Kain asked, full of bitter sarcasm. “Is that what you’re calling this unprovoked attack? What happened today is a war crime. Baron must answer for this genocide.”

“Boys,” Barbariccia cooed, reminding them of her presence, both turning to look at her as she drifted through the room, coming up to stand beside Richard. As she passed Kain, she shook her head, tossing her long hair against his arm. Kain still wore his armor and did not feel it, but the effect still tickled the hair on the back of his neck, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

Kain tried not to meet her eyes as she now stood next to Richard but could not help himself; her obvious amusement made her yellow eyes sparkle to gold. “There’s plenty of time to explain the how and the why of things. But first, Kain, we need to know: Are all the summoners dead?”

“No,” Kain answered immediately, his anger suddenly evaporating. “There was a young girl. When we tried to approach her, she summoned the giant who caused the earthquake. One of the tremors threw me one way, the girl and Cecil another. She might still be alive.”

“Could they be together?” Richard asked, voice of uncertainty.  “And will Cecil follow through and execute her, as ordered?”

Kain hesitated, then looked to his father. “Cecil and I agreed not to harm her. It is not the Dragoon’s way to murder innocents outright.”

Richard cursed, low and dark under his breath, then turned to punch the wall beside the desk. His black gauntlet left a splintering hole behind as he withdrew. “Go quickly,” Richard said, flexing his fingers within the gauntlet, turning back to Barbariccia, “and report to Lord Golbez. He’ll need to send soldiers to Kaipo to intercept Cecil and kill the summoner.”

Barbariccia did not hesitate, blinking out of existence abruptly, an urgent breeze trailing in her wake.

“Now, your turn,” Richard declared, taking a seat at the desk. “Where do you want me to start? The day I left Baron for the mission?”

“No,” Kain said. There was a stool in another corner – Cecil kept it specifically for Kain, usually to review maps and chart the next day’s course together. Sometimes it was just for company, sharing a drink after a long shift. Kain sat on it, tucking his long legs in, the position familiar. “Start at the beginning.”

“That is the beginning,” Richard said, sounding slightly impatient.

Kain shook his head. “No, it’s not,” Kain stubbornly insisted. “Start with Joanna. What were you two fighting about before you left for the mission?”

Richard’s eyes went suddenly wide, full of surprise. “How did you…?” he hesitated, not finishing the question. Then, realization dawned, and he narrowed his eyes in accusation. “Albert told you.”

Kain nodded, not trusting himself to convincingly lie if he opened his mouth.

“It was nothing,” Richard said, frowning. “Roland had just returned from deployment and Joanna did not want him to leave again so soon.”

“I’m not going to stay here and listen to you lie,” Kain said, his deep voice low as he stood up. “I know you and Joanna had an affair. I also know that my mother was secretly a dark knight, and Joanna knew but did not tell you.”

Richard looked briefly surprised again, but mastered himself quickly, his expression neutral. But some of the color had also gone out of his face, making him look pale. He said nothing, merely watching Kain.

“Why be angry at Joanna?” Kain asked, shifting his weight uneasily between his feet, unsure if he wanted to stay or go. “Would you have acted differently if you knew my mother was undergoing dark knight training and how vulnerable she was? Do you somehow think you would have been more honorable if you knew?” Kain shook his head, answering the question for Richard. “I think you would have acted the same.”

“I was angry at everyone,” Richard admitted quietly, sounding strangely subdued. “I was angry at Joanna for knowing and not telling me. At Odin for pushing it in the first place. At Roland for…” he hesitated, looking conflicted. “For existing, I suppose. It was not really any of their faults, and I know that now. Elena killed herself because she was deeply unhappy. I…” he paused, considering his next words. “I didn’t make her happy, and that is my fault.”

Kain thought about telling his father that Elena’s true cause of death had been her own fault, an accident while trying to summon up her dark knight magic. If anything, it was Kain’s fault, his infant cry startling her, causing an unfortunate slip of her knife. But Kain found that he liked the idea of Richard agonizing with guilt over Elena’s death, thinking that the discovery of his affair with Joanna caused Elena to take her own life. It was fitting punishment, Kain decided, for the man who would betray his wife and abandon his son.

“Did you… kill Roland? On the ship?” Kain asked, the question small and unsure. “Did you steal Cid’s explosive so that you could kill him and have no witnesses?”

“No,” Richard said quickly. “I had the explosive, yes, but under Odin’s orders. There’d been recent activity at the Tower of Babil, and Odin was worried that Eblan might have discovered airship technology and were launching their own ships. The explosive was if we came across them, I was to use it.”

“But how did it go off? On the ship?” Kain pressed.

Richard sighed, his shoulders deflating. “Roland and I fought. About… the affair. The fight got nasty, the captain separated us, brought us both to his quarters for a lecture. But it got heated again, and Roland and I began fighting in the captain’s quarters. He threw me into the wall, and I landed on the box the captain had the explosive stored. I must have set it off when I fell.” Richard looked aside; his gaze distant. “The timer is set just long enough for a dragoon to Jump away from a ship.” Richard closed his eyes, wincing. “So, I did.”

“How did you survive on the open ocean?” Kain asked.

Richard opened his eyes again, and this time was smiling. “Barbariccia saved me and brought me to the Tower. To Lord Golbez.”

“But why didn’t you come back to Baron?” Kain asked, trying hard not to sound like a hurt little boy. “Why would you leave me alone? Who is this Lord Golbez you’d betray your ideals and kill innocents for? What does he offer you that you’d abandon me in exchange?”

“Dragons,” Richard breathed the word, his eyes full of awe. “Lord Golbez can get us dragons.”

Kain’s heart skipped a beat, his mouth suddenly dry. He thought of the open sky all around him, the rhythmic beat of a dragon’s wings, working in concert with the fierce wind currents, his own heart beating in tandem. It was a childhood fantasy suddenly come to life.

Kain sat back down on the stool. Kain met his father’s eyes, and even in the dim light, could see the same excitement there. It ignited a childish hope in Kain that he had not indulged in years. In that moment, he forgot the smell of burnt hair and cooking meat as he ran through Mist, the falling ash stinging his eyes, the flicker of bravery in Cecil’s eyes as he said he would finally defy the king.

“Tell me everything,” Kain said, with a greedy new hunger.

On the flight back to Baron, Richard did not reveal much more about Lord Golbez’s plan to bring dragons back to dragoons, or why that involved the summoners’ deaths, only that Golbez himself must tell Kain. It left Kain frustrated and bitter; he was being left out yet again.

As Richard got up to leave the captain’s cabin, Kain had one more question. “Why didn’t you come back for me?”

The questions stopped Richard in his tracks, turning to face Kain again. “Truly? Do you want an answer?”

Kain nodded, suddenly afraid of what Richard might say next.

Richard sighed. “Odin wouldn’t have let me come back; he blamed me for the crash. I know there were survivors, but…” Richard shook his head. “Captain Darklighter thought he saw…” He stopped again, still shaking his head. “I was a scapegoat, Kain, I couldn’t come back.”

“But—” Kain tried to protest.

“But even with all of that,” Richard spoke over him, not letting Kain interrupt. “The reason I never came to get you is that I needed you in Baron, as Commander of the Dragoons. For all the plans to work, you needed to be in that position of authority. Only you can convince the Dragoons to stand with Lord Golbez.”

“The Dragoons?” Kain sputtered, trying to imagine standing before them, to tell them that others must die for them to regain dragons. Would any be convinced? Kain was not fully sure himself, only that the promise of dragons, even just the potential, intrigued him too much to not learn more. Would that be enough for the Dragoons to serve under an unknown Red Wings Captain, who encouraged the new bloodlust in King Odin?

“All will make sense after you meet with Lord Golbez,” Richard said, not for the first time. “Try and rest until we reach Baron. You’ve been though much.” And with that, Richard left, not allowing Kain to ask anything else; Kain felt overwhelmed by all the unanswered questions.

Kain looked around the captain’s cabin – Cecil’s quarters – and felt a pang of deep loss. “Where are you?” Kain asked of no one, the worst unanswered question of all.

Feeling like a failure, Kain stood on the deck of the Scarlet Prelude as she made her descent to Baron Castle. Kain tried not to look for Rosa in the gathered crowd of soldiers and engineers awaiting the ship’s return, but his traitorous eyes found her, her white mage robes making it too easy.

As the ship landed, Rosa’s searching gaze found him. At first, she smiled, her relief palpable even from this distance. Then, she looked to scan the deck again, sorting through the Red Wings uniforms, but failing to spot Cecil’s familiar black armor; her smile gradually faded, a confused frown replacing it.

“Let’s go,” Richard said, lowering the visor of his helmet, now anonymous to the soldiers and citizens of Baron. “You’ll report to Odin and then Lord Golbez will explain everything and make you understand.” The crew worked together to lower the gangway lowered; once in place, Richard walked to it.

Kain followed, dropping his guilty gaze from Rosa.

There were more castle guards here than usual, Kain realized, as he followed Richard off the gangway and onto the dock. The guards formed a line on either side of the dock, blocking access from all sides. As Richard and Kain stepped off the dock, the guards’ formation shifted, the two lines now on either side of them.

“What is this?” Kain asked Richard, who did not stop, continuing to walk along. The guards followed in unified step. Kain already knew the answer – a security detail, like the personal guards of the king. But the better question was, why?

“Kain!” Rosa called out somewhere to the side of him, sounding faint over the mix of a dozen booted footsteps moving in sync. “Let me through,” she demanded of one of the guards, who did not respond. Kain could see her now, trying to stretch up on her tiptoes to peer over the guards’ helmets to spot Kain.

“Wait,” Kain said to both Richard and the guards. “Let me talk to her.”

“We don’t need healing,” Richard said, pitching his voice loud enough for Rosa to hear.

Rosa trailed behind the last guard pair, her hands in tight fists, holding up the fabric of her robes as she ran to catch up and keep pace. “Kain, where’s Cecil?!” she called out after him; the question made Kain’s blood run cold.

“Lord Golbez is waiting,” Richard said, but he stopped, nevertheless. He turned around, looking at the last guard in the line. “Encourage the white mage to return to the infirmary,” he said, the command quiet but still sounding sinister. The guard broke off from the formation to approach Rosa as she trailed behind them.

“I just need to talk to him—” Rosa started to say but she was interrupted by her own surprised yelp as the guard grabbed at her. She twisted out of the way, recoiling back, but the guard had the benefit of her stunned shock. He lunged for her again, this time catching her by the wrist. He twisted her arm, maneuvering behind her, then pushed her bent arm up against her back.

“Get your hands off of me right now or I…” Rosa started to say, but the guard pushed on her wrist, forcing it further up her back, twisting it at an unnatural angle. Rosa hissed through her teeth in surprised pain.

Kain stopped abruptly at her sound of distress, his heartbeat fast and erratic against ribs, sending roaring blood in his ears.

“You are surrounded by the king’s guards,” Richard said, and this time, it was a warning. “Do nothing stupid. Rosa Farrell can wait. Your report to the king cannot. Meeting Lord Golbez cannot wait either.” Richard paused and seemed to consider Kain. Whatever conclusion Richard came to, Kain could not guess, Richard’s black dragon helm revealing nothing of the man inside. “You’ll have time for her later,” Richard said the last with emphasis.

Kain looked back and saw Rosa had been released. She cradled her wrist to her chest, her eyes bright with unshed tears but overall seeming unharmed. The guard stepped away from her, then back into formation with the others.

“Go home, Rosa!” Kain called out to her, even as he scrambled to catch up to Richard. “I’ll find you later!” As they left Rosa behind, Kain could not help himself, and looked back at her once more.

Where’s Cecil? Her eyes accused, full of betrayed hurt. You promised, they needlessly reminded him.

Kain looked away, unable to bear the sight any longer. With his eyes downcast, as if he feared Rosa might suddenly appear before him, Kain hurried to catch up to Richard.

Kain did not see the engineers who had gathered in silence to watch Rosa’s interaction with the guard. He did not see how one took her gently by shoulders, leading her toward the infirmary. A look was exchanged by the remaining engineers; one gave a wordless nod, then left at a brisk pace toward the Chief’s workshop.  

Chapter Text

Entering the throne room felt like approaching the executioner’s block. With each step, Kain had to resist the urge to swallow hard, his throat feeling tight and constrained against an imagined noose squeezing around his neck.

Richard strode ahead. The sight of his father’s back should have been a comfort, but it only added to Kain’s confusion and anxiety – what would King Odin say? Odin had obviously forgiven Richard’s desertion, and whatever else had happened on the doomed airship, and allowed Richard to come back to Baron now. What did that mean for Kain? And more importantly, what did that mean for the Dragoons?

Outside the throne room, Richard paused, glancing back at Kain. Richard wore his helmet, the visor down, his expression anonymous behind the black scaled dragon helm. “Ready?” Richard asked, his voice low and muffled.

“Yes,” Kain answered, trying to sound confident and feeling anything but.

“Remember the end goal, Kain,” Richard said, clapping a hand to Kain’s shoulder. Kain couldn’t tell if the gesture of camaraderie was genuine or forced. “Soon, we’ll rule the skies together.”

It was strange to Kain, then, to realize in all his fantasies of flying free, he had never imagined his father by his side, despite Richard also being a dragoon and ostensibly sharing Kain’s love of the sky and wind. “Together,” Kain repeated, but the word tasted bitter on his tongue. He had said it too often to Rosa and Cecil; it felt insincere to offer it to anyone else.

Despite Kain’s doubts, together, they stepped through the big double doors into the throne room. Their guard escort remained behind, two of the guards pulling the doors closed with a dull thud. Richard lifted his visor; the gesture told Kain that while Richard was still cautious about his identity around other soldiers, he seemed to trust everyone in this room.  

Inside, Kain expected to find King Odin alone, as he usually did when taking sensitive reports, but Barbariccia stood to one side of the throne, while a tall figure in black horned armor stood on the other. Barbariccia offered a smile as the two dragoons approached, but Kain was jealously unsure whom it was for.

“Your Majesty,” Kain said, going to one knee in a kneel. Beside him, Richard hesitated, and in Kain’s peripheral he saw Richard frowned. Richard quickly mastered himself, however, and mimicked Kain’s kneel, though it was less fluid and seemed awkward, like Richard had not performed the gesture in too long.

“Commander Highwind,” King Odin said, with an odd sort of smile that showed his white teeth. “Welcome back home.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kain said, rising back up. “I’ve come to give report on the Mist mission.”

Surprisingly, Odin made a dismissive gesture. “No need. Barbariccia has already informed me. Now, we must focus on the next steps.”

This seemed so unlike the King Odin he knew that Kain was caught off guard. “Sir?” he said, with a dozen questions packed in the single word address.

“You have misgivings,” Odin said, and it was a statement, not a question. He glanced at Richard and a look was exchanged between them, although Kain could not guess its meaning. “Was I right to suspect Cecil has turned traitor?” Odin’s eyes returned to Kain, but now they were narrowed, and a frown creased Odin’s mouth, deep in his beard. “Has his treason also spread to you? Do you not trust your liege lord? Is that why the summoner child still lives, not by chance but by your misguided mercy?”

“Sir…” Kain began to protest, but it was too close to the truth for him to truly deny.

The figure in black armor stepped closer, placing an arm on Odin’s arm. He leaned in closer, his deep voice in a low murmur, “Perhaps I could explain things more effectively to Commander Highwind.” Strangely, Kain sensed it was not a request, having the tone of command.

Odin blinked, his angry expression resetting to neutral. He offered a bland smile to Kain. “Lord Golbez, take Commander Highwind and… explain things.” He folded his hands together, fingers laced together. “Perhaps once Commander Highwind understands the stakes, he will appreciate our tactics.”

Were dragons worth this? Kain wondered, and the greedy part of his heart cried out in the affirmative.

“Come along, Commander Highwind,” Golbez said, stepping down from the throne’s platform, his boots clicking on the stairs. As he passed both Richard and Kain, Golbez did not glance back to see if Kain followed, and Kain had the impression that Golbez was used to being immediately obeyed.

Still, Kain hesitated.

Richard turned to Kain, his expression softening with sympathy. “Lord Golbez offers much wisdom and opportunity. You would do well to listen to him carefully and open your mind.” He paused a moment, then added, “Trust me.”

Kain stood on the top of the roof, peering over the edge with palpable uncertainty, highlighted by fear.

“You have dragoon’s blood in your veins!” Richard called out from the ground, “You’ll land soundly.”

“How do you know that?” young Kain asked, full of trepidation. “What if I don’t?”

“Trust me,” Richard said, cracking a grin. “As I trusted my father, and he his father before him.”

Strengthened by his father’s belief in him, Kain took a deep breath, and jumped.

“I trust you,” Kain said, desperate to be that faithful child again, hoping that by saying it, he could convince himself it was true. Kain fell in line behind Golbez as he exited the throne room.

Kain was not sure where he expected Golbez to take him, but it was not to King Odin’s private quarters. Kain had only ever been to the king’s study once when Odin had made his dark knight proposal. Now, he walked through the apartment’s large hallway, into a new room.

It was larger than most rooms in the castle, mostly empty, a sandy circle in its middle. At the other end were racks of various weapons and shields, and several benches lined the walls. It was an indoor sparring pit, the realization hit Kain, closely followed by another – this was where Cecil had his dark knight training. Although the sand was clean now, Kain could still smell old blood in the air, the effect making him shudder with unexpected dread.

Golbez strode through the room to its opposite end. “I find the best measure of a man is muscle against muscle.” With his back to Kain, he pulled his helmet free from his head and set it aside.  “Fight me, Commander Highwind, and we shall learn who the other truly is.”

This is madness, Kain thought, feeling strangely giddy, like this was a huge joke he hadn’t been let in in. But in the next moment, Golbez turned to face Kain, looking up at him as he unstrapped a gauntlet and Kain’s heart nearly stopped in his chest.

How could someone else look so much like Cecil? Kain had always thought of Cecil as oddly unique, resembling no one else, locally born or foreign. But now Golbez was before him, defying that expectation. Golbez’s hair and eyes were an eerily similar gray, though a few shades darker, like the shadowy side of Cecil’s bright moon. Was this another off shoot of the Harvey family tree, and if so, what was Odin’s relationship with that family that he elevated the Harvey men to such positions of prestige and power?

Kain wondered this all, staring dumbly at Golbez.

“Commander Highwind,” Golbez said Kain’s name like a summon, abruptly breaking Kain’s dazed stupor. If Golbez looked even a little bit like Cecil, his mannerisms and speech were markedly different. It felt uncomfortable even looking at Golbez, like he wore another’s ill-fitting clothes and it embarrassed Kain to witness. The effect made Kain look away, abruptly dropping his eyes to the floor.

Without thinking about it, Kain pulled off his helmet, setting it aside. He suddenly found he wanted to fight, as if that would fix the wrongness Kain saw in Golbez, as if his fists could make Golbez look less like Cecil. The darkest part of him knew that there would be a twisted triumph in hurting someone who looked like Cecil, but Kain would not admit that to himself.

Apparently satisfied by Kain’s compliance, Golbez said nothing else. In near silence, they finished unarmoring themselves, with Kain refusing to look Golbez’s way. His eyes were still on the floor as he walked to the sand circle, standing opposite Golbez. When Golbez said nothing, standing still as a statue, Kain was finally compelled to look up and meet the familiar gray gaze.

“You enjoy being better than other people, don’t you Kain?” Golbez said. Both the question and use of his name made Kain feel oddly exposed, as if Golbez already knew everything about him even before their fight. What, if anything, had Richard told Golbez about Kain? “Show me how you’re better than me,” Golbez prompted, bringing his fists up in front of him, knees sinking into a defensive stance.

Kain didn’t need more than that, swinging out his fist; it connected easily with Golbez’s jaw with a sickening thud, sending Golbez staggering back with the force of the blow – he had not been expecting it, Kain guessed, by the brief surprise on his face. Golbez straightened, holding his jaw in his hand, and spit out a mouthful of blood. “Does that make you feel better?” Golbez asked, his teeth showing red as he spoke; the sight of it satisfied Kain in a way he had never felt before.

“Yes,” Kain admitted gruffly, pulling his fists back up, ready to strike again.

“What else do you want?” Golbez asked as he also raised his fists. “What else does the world owe you?”

“Nothing,” Kain grunted, wildly throwing another punch. This time, Golbez dodged it easily, ducking to the side.

“Everyone desires,” Golbez countered with his own punch, but Kain had his arm up to block. “What keeps you up at night? What power do you covet? What do you long for but lack?”

The onslaught of uncomfortable questions made Kain shy back, putting distance between him and Golbez. He thought of his father’s promise, of skies so blue his eyes hurt, of air so clean it had never been in another’s lungs, of the liberty to go wherever one wanted, astride a fearsome and loyal companion who would fight alongside him and never leave him behind.

“A dragon,” Kain said abruptly, looking anywhere but at Golbez, wishing he weren’t here.

“Too easy,” Golbez replied, not advancing or retreating, but fists still up. “That’s what Richard wants – what you think you should want. What do you want?”

“I don’t know!” Kain shouted, then lunged forward, with open hands, wanting nothing more than to drag Golbez to the ground and punch him until he stopped asking strange questions. Kain hated Golbez with an intensity that overwhelmed Kain, drowning out all other thoughts. Kain did not get far, however. A strange shiver ran through him, abruptly stopping him in his tracks.

What do you want? A new voice whispered across Kain’s mind.

Kain fell to his knees with an agonized groan, holding his head between his hands. Months later, when asked about the experience of being under Golbez’s mind control, Kain would beg off the question. Most assumed he just did not want to talk about it, but the truth was he could not accurately describe what happened to him or what it felt like. It was like having a full cup and pouring more liquid in; slicing a knife through an animal’s pelt, exposing the skin and fat layers below; a thundering headache between the temples, threatening dim vision and dizziness; it was both like and unlike so many different things that Kain would never have words for it.

Internally, Kain scrambled for defenses he didn’t know how to use, tucking away his thoughts in the small parts of his mind, hiding himself. He felt an insidious tugging at the edges of his attention, something trying to sneak in, but Kain shrugged it aside.

 Kain was so distracted he did not feel Golbez’s fingers in his hair, dragging his head upward. It wasn’t until Golbez’s fist struck his cheek and sent him sprawling to the ground that Kain became aware of his physical body again. He sucked in air sharply between his teeth, hissing in pain. He staggered to his feet, fists up, ready to defend himself.

When Golbez struck again, Kain was prepared, catching Golbez’s arm in his hand. Anger animated his muscles, making him feel bigger and stronger, driven by the need to see more of Golbez’s blood. He drew his other hand back, making a fist, and prepared to throw his whole shoulder into the punch on Golbez’s face.

Do you enjoy being superior? the voice inside Kain’s mind asked, the words poking tiny knives into the back of Kain’s skull. Kain released Golbez and stumbled back, doubling over. He held his head in his hands, feeling like his skull might crack open and his brain would leak out all over the sandy floor.

Let me in, Kain, the voice insisted, I could offer you so much…

An image came to Kain’s mind, of him striding through the halls of Baron, in shining, resplendent new armor. The dragon helm was done in white and blue, its reptilian fringe in a contrasting red. There was a regalness to this dragon armor that Kain had never seen before. Just as he had that thought, Kain’s fantasy-self entered the throne room, striding confidently forward. But he did not bow or kneel before any figure, instead, went to the throne and sat. Muffled from outside was a loud, trumpeting bellow. But it was not the familiar sound of an airship’s engines, instead sounding like the roar of a…

“No!” Kain shouted back, although out loud. He pushed aside the mental image, refusing to think on it further. If he could keep all his desires hidden, then they couldn’t be dragged out and used against him. As he had that determined thought, Golbez picked Kain’s head back up, forcing him to look up. Golbez raised his other hand, then struck Kain across the face in a teeth-rattling back-handed blow.

Kain raised his hands up, trying to protect his face from another attack, when he felt another sharp needle digging into psyche.

Wouldn’t it be nice? The voice said, offering another picture for Kain – Cecil knelt before the throne, eyes averted, waiting for Kain to gesture him forward, so he could offer report on another successful mission…

As Kain tried to block out the thought, Golbez struck again, his knuckles cracking loud against Kain’s nose. It was then he had the sick realization what Golbez’s goal was – Kain could not defend both his mind and his body at the same time. If he fought Golbez in the flesh, then his mind was open for the insidious probing; if he defended his mind, his body was vulnerable. Kain had to choose which was more important to protect.

As Golbez kicked Kain’s legs out from underneath him, Kain tried to keep his arms up around his head; he was aware of each subsequent blow in a vague way, but the pain seemed distant as he turned inward.

The battle inside was more important, Kain decided, chasing away the tempting images that were presented to him, banishing them to the back of his mind, refusing to think about them. He ignored the long line of new hopeful recruits, eager to meet their Dragoon King, all wanting a taste of the sky; he ignored his father’s approving nod and Barbariccia’s inviting look; he ignored the gathered crowd of Baron citizens, biding him farewell with enthusiastic waves, eager for a glimpse as Kain mounted his dragon and flew away, awe and admiration in their eyes.

Kain did not know how long Golbez beat him, only faintly aware of each punch and kick, of the blood he could taste on each labored inhale, of his vision dimming as his eye swelled over.

It would be so much easier if you just told me what you wanted, the voice told him.

No, Kain protested, though weakly now. He lay curled on his side, half of his face pressed into the sand, his nose streaming blood, each breath punctuated with a wheeze. Before he could stop the thought, he wondered what Rosa would say when saw him, if she’d have the same tenderness she always had for Cecil when he was injured, if she would touch him in the same careful way.

It was this thought that the darkness within him finally seized on, wrenching it free from Kain. It turned the thought over, inspecting it closely. Is this what you desire? It asked, sounding curious. You desire what another has?

It rifled through Kain’s memory, looking through and discarding them aside, seeking where the germ of jealousy had first germinated.

“Don’t think you can be friends with me,” Kain spat, then turned away dismissively, but continued in a mutter, “Just because the king treats you like you’re special.” 

“What did you say?” Finally, there was some emotion in Cecil, a new anger making his voice go high. Kain heard the steps as Cecil quickly approached.

Kain turned to meet Cecil. “Want a fight, do you?” Cecil stopped short before Kain, but had his fists raised up. “What’s a soft, spoiled little boy like you going to do to me?” Kain asked, drawing his own fists up. 

“I’m not spoiled!” Cecil protested, looking somehow both hurt and angry.

Kain lunged forward and grabbed Cecil by a handful of his shirt, while raising his other hand in a fist over Cecil’s head. “Talk back to me, will you?” As the taller and older of the two boys, Kain loomed over Cecil. This was a new feeling for Kain, this satisfaction of being better than someone. He was surprised to find how much he liked it.

“You want to be better than Cecil.” It was Golbez who spoke this time, the words sounding strange in Kain’s ringing ears. “You want all he has, and more.”

Kain did not have the strength to deny it, either in his mind or out loud, only offering a groan in reply as he tried to push himself up off the floor. His arms felt rubbery beneath his weight, barely holding himself up.

“You could have that, you know,” Golbez said, almost conversationally, as he offered Kain a hand. “I could strip Cecil of his title and give it to you. You could take his place as Odin’s heir and his woman as your queen.”

Kain looked up at Golbez and his outstretched hand, squinting through one eye swollen shut.

It wouldn’t hurt just to listen…

He could listen, Kain suddenly decided, mistaking it for his own organic thought.

“How?” Kain asked, struggling to shape the word without moving his mouth; it throbbed with pain, making him more aware of his new injuries. Kain took Golbez’s outstretched hand, using the leverage to pull himself to his feet. He swayed uncertainly for a moment, as he regained his equilibrium. He vaguely knew he should still be fighting Golbez, but the idea made him so damn tired. It wouldn't hurt to listen, would it? And didn't Richard advise him to have an open mind?

“Help me gather the Crystals,” Golbez said, a strange new awe in his words. “They are the key to immense power, far beyond anything ever seen before. With them, we can reshape the world under a new vision.”

In his mind, Kain now saw Rosa standing under the willow trees of Highwind Manor, looking around at the beauty that surrounded her, not knowing how it paled in comparison to her. She shielded her eyes to look up into the sky, a great shadow passing over her. A blue and white dragon flew overhead, long and sinuous, graceful as it sliced through the air. The sun winked over something metallic on the dragon’s back, and the vision clarified, a figure astride the dragon.

“Can you do that?” Golbez’s question brought Kain back to the present, and he saw Golbez’s eyes intent on him.  “Redesign the world with me, the way it should be – with the strong leading the way.”

Briefly, Kain saw Cecil, at the helm of an airship, the wind teasing his hair loose, looking over his shoulder, not knowing how his smile could make Kain’s heart skip a beat. Hastily, Kain stuffed that vision aside, not wanting Golbez or his darkness to find it.

“Yes,” Kain said through clenched teeth, desperate for Golbez not to pry further into him, not wanting to reveal any more secrets or shame. His mind huddled in on itself, just not wanting to hurt anymore, and as he did, more darkness crept in. It circled around Kain’s core, sinking barbed needles into the sensitive parts of his psyche.

“Go to the infirmary,” Golbez said, and once again, it was spoken with authority. “And see if your pretty white mage treats you the same as this Cecil.” When Kain looked aside, embarrassed, Golbez continued, “Then, come to me, and I’ll tell you how you can be better.”

The words were in his mouth before Kain could think about them. “Yes, Master.”

Chapter Text

Every part of Kain hurt. He could not tell where the pain of one injury ended and where another began, all blending seamlessly into a unique agony. Kain had suffered injuries and wounds before; breaking his legs at Mount Ordeals being especially painful, but it all paled in comparison to this.

It was not just his body that ached, but his mind that felt raw from its encounter with Golbez. The penetrating darkness had poked around the intimate corners of Kain’s mind, but Kain was not ready to acknowledge the violation or how it had changed him. Instead, he ignored it, resolutely determined not to think about what Golbez had done to him or what that meant.

As Kain made slow progress through the castle halls, the many guards he encountered made no comment on his battered and bloody appearance. A few servants gasped in shock and recoiled. None approached him or offered help, leaving Kain to wonder how much had changed in Baron since he was last here.

One dragoon, a freckle-faced fresh recruit named Finn Farsong spotted Kain, immediately recognizing his Commander despite the blood painting Kain’s face, hair and clothing. Finn started toward Kain, anger flushing his face dark. “Who did this, Commander?!” he asked, outraged. “I’ll call the guard, we’ll find the culprit and—"

But Kain held a hand up to stop the young dragoon’s words, and mutely shook his head. Finn hesitated, unsure, his expression softening into concern.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kain croaked, the words painful in his bruised and tender mouth. He started to take another step, but his balance was off, and he stumbled. Finn rushed forward to catch him, looping an arm around Kain’s back, steadying Kain as Finn braced to take most of Kain’s weight. “I’m sorry,” Kain muttered, feeling so small and low, so unworthy of the help but desperately needing it.

“It’s okay, Commander,” Finn said in a gentle voice, still holding Kain up.  Finn looked around carefully, becoming acutely aware that the nearby guards were watching them, perhaps a bit too intently. “Let’s get you to the infirmary,” he suggested, trying to sound casual and light despite the circumstances.

Kain didn’t reply, only leaned into Finn, letting Finn shoulder more of his weight. Together, they made their way to the infirmary through the castle’s winding hallways. Finn did not acknowledge the whispers around them as they passed others, only offered encouraging words to Kain to keep him moving along.

As they arrived at the doors of the infirmary, Finn pushed open the door and called out. “I need a healer!” and despite his ongoing calmness, could not keep the alarm out of his voice. His tone alerted the white mages inside, several of whom came forward, all blurry white shapes warped by Kain’s dim vision.

“Kain!” one cried out, and he knew it was Rosa. Her familiar hands were on him, touching his face, brushing back his hair, tipping his head upward. “What happened? Who did this?”

“I don’t know,” answered Finn, faster than Kain could, his brain and tongue too sluggish to promptly respond, unsure of what he would say anyway. “I found him wandering the halls like this, but I don’t know where he came from or who is responsible,” Finn said, gripping Kain tight, holding him up, even as Kain began to sag.

“Kain,” Rosa said, commanding his attention, and he squinted to peer up at her, trying to bring her face into focus. “You’re safe, Kain, you’re here with me and you’re okay,” Rosa murmured, voice soft and reassuring. Kain’s heart soared at her words and tone, relishing it, finally possessing the deep kindness she had always saved for Cecil’s wounds and pain. Kain had it himself and he had Golbez to thank for making it happen.

It was the first of many things he would take from Cecil, Kain decided.

“Stay with me, Kain,” Rosa begged, her voice faint and distant; she seemed suddenly so far away.

Kain reached for her, his hands groping blindly forward. His whole world tipped violently forward, and as he fell, darkness swallowed his vision.

Kain slept, but fitfully. He did not truly dream, but saw an endless stream of memories, like someone was rifling through his mind, trying to find which ones were important or not. But there was something strange about these memories, starting so familiar, but their endings strange and not recognizable.

Cecil, dangling by his straining fingers, struggled to maintain a grip on the roof’s edge. “Kain!” he called out. Kain leaned down and grabbed Cecil by the wrist. But he did not follow the memory’s script this time, instead smirking, then letting go…

Cecil, caught in the wild tide of the river, disappeared under the crashing waves. Rosa pointed and shrieked from the bank, shouting at Kain to go in after him. This time, however, Kain did not go running in after Cecil, only crossed his arms and watched with smug satisfaction as Cecil struggled but failed to break the surface…

Cecil, standing beside Kain on the deck of the airship, hugging Kain, whispered “Good luck” into his ear. Cecil tried to disengage the embrace, but Kain held on tight, not letting him go. Cecil laughed, but this time, the amusement was cut short as Kain pushed against Cecil hard, sending him stumbling back, then over the airship railing. Kain laughed at the role reversal as Cecil was swallowed up by the air….

Cecil, his slit wrist spurting blood, his eyes wide with fear and alarm. Rosa tried to push past Kain, to get to Cecil, but this time Kain held her back. She fought against him, struggled to break his hold and reach Cecil, but Kain was stronger, and she could not overpower him. She watched, helplessly screaming, as Cecil sank to his knees, the light gradually going from his eyes (like your mother) as he continued to bleed…

Cecil, watching the burning inferno that consumed the Village Mist, horror in his eyes, thick flakes of ash hidden in his gray hair. He fell to his knees, demanding answers with a hoarse cry to no one. Cecil did not see Kain behind him, his lance drawn, ready to strike…

Kain turned away from these not-right memories, their new endings filling him with a guilty pleasure he tried to deny but could no longer.

“Kain, come back to me,” beckoned Rosa, somewhere far away, trying to pierce through the darkness to reach him. Kain struggled to move toward the sound but found the darkness too thick. He reached blindly for it but found nothing.

Please, he begged, of the darkness within him and the alien entity that harbored it. Let me go.

Go, it conceded, loosening the barbs that had dug so deeply into Kain’s mind, weeping darkness in their wake. I have all I need now.

Filled with gratitude, Kain fell toward waking.

Kain became aware of himself again. He found himself in a soft bed, pillows propped up under his back and arms. There was no longer the demanding presence of the wild pain from his whole body, but instead a dull ache, a familiar side effect after significant healing.

“When will he wake?” asked a voice, speaking barely above a whisper.

Kain kept his eyes closed, not wanting to move and announce his wakefulness yet.

“I don’t know.” It was Rosa who answered, her beautiful voice recognizable at any volume. “He was beaten badly, but there was more than just that. Some kind of… dark magic I’ve never seen before.”

“This is chaos,” said the first, now louder, and now Kain knew it as Finn. “Baron attacks Mysidian and Mist, declares martial law on its citizens and now assaults officers who speak against them? There’s talk of attacking Damcyan and taking their Crystal! Where does this end?”

“Hush!” Rosa whispered with a chastising hiss. “If anyone hears us, we’ll be dangling from a tree before the day is out.”

“What do we do?” Finn asked, quietly again, Rosa’s suggested imagery striking appropriate fear into him. “Who can help if this is what they do to dissenters?”

“You need to find Albert Hawthorne in the country and bring him back to Baron. He’ll know what to do,” Rosa said. “Kain and I will find Cecil and warn Damcyan.” She was always confident when there was a plan to follow, and it inspired Kain to hear it now, despite how wrong she was. “I’ll prepare supplies for three to travel. If we’re lucky, Kain will be recovered enough to travel tonight.”

Finn hesitated, then asked, full of uncertainty. “Are we really doing this? Defying a king with an unrivaled military force?”

“Who else?” Rosa answered with her own question, sounding solemn. “If Albert and Cecil are with us, we might convince others to defect, crippling Baron’s power structure. The Engineers might join us; I don’t think they’ll tolerate another unprovoked attack using their ships.”

“If King Odin lets them leave,” Finn countered bitterly. “If Baron will let them go.”

“Which is why time is critical,” Rosa said urgently. “We must get word to the outside world before Baron strikes again. Go, and make quiet preparations to leave. I’ll meet you at the Weapons Shop tonight and we’ll leave when the night is darkest.”

Kain’s eyes were open now, no longer swollen shut, though blurry and sore. He looked around, realizing he was in one of the infirmary’s private rooms; he wondered if it was the same one he and Joanna had bargained for Rosa’s future in, so many years before.

Kain saw Finn turn to go, but Rosa caught him by the arm, stopping him. “If something happens to Kain or me,” she said, her blue eyes wide with her unvoiced fear. “Then you need to leave anyway. If we can’t warn Damcyan in time, then we need to tell all the other nations who possess a Crystal, because they’re at risk too. You need to find Albert and convince him to defy a tyrant to save Baron,” she paused a moment, then added, “And to save Kain.”

Finn didn’t say anything, only held Rosa’s gaze for a tense moment, then gave a single nod of understanding. He left without a word, and Rosa did not try to stop him again. Instead, she circled the around the bed to its side. The bed shifted under her weight as she sat on its edge. Kain closed his eyes and laid as still as he could, willing his breathing to be even and deep. Rosa took his hand, her slim fingers circling around his. “Come back to me,” Rosa murmured, the same refrain from his dream.

Kain stirred, opening his eyes again, and was promptly rewarded with Rosa’s bright, dazzling smile. She threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug, holding him close. “Oh, Kain!” she sobbed with relief. “What happened to you?” she asked, her breath hitching in her chest.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kain said, his fingers in her hair, threading through the strands. “I survived and am stronger for it now.”

Rosa stiffened, then pulled away from Kain, her gaze critical despite her fresh tears. “What happened to you, Kain?” she asked again, less gentle this time.

Kain said nothing, his jaw clenched but still aching from remembered pain.

Some realization dawned on Rosa, making her eyes widen, then darken with sadness. She looked away, her shoulders sinking dejectedly, making her look smaller. It was the same look she wore when Cecil turned her aside, unable to bear telling her the depths of his pain, or how far the darkness had pushed him. Kain had witnessed Cecil’s rejection of her countless times, watching her learn to endure it with grace over the years, unendingly patient, meeting Cecil with kindness and compassion when he was finally ready. Now Kain saw hurt fresh in her again, only now it was because Kain did not trust her with this new pain. But how could he when he did not trust himself?

“It doesn’t matter,” Rosa said, Kain’s words sounding dismissive from her tongue. “You must rest; you need to recover your strength. Tonight, we’ll leave for Kaipo.”

“Why?” Kain asked, before he could stop himself.

“Why?” Rosa echoed, incredulously. “Because we need to find Cecil. He could be hurt, he could need help, he could be gathering soldiers already.” Rosa looked off, eyes distant. “Why?” she repeated, then quietly answered herself, “Because he needs us and because we need to be together. That’s why.”

“What if Cecil is better off gone?” Kain blurted out, also unintentionally, pretending not to know where the words came from.

“What do you mean?” Rosa demanded, her voice going high in sudden alarm.

“I don’t know,” Kain both did and did not lie, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. These were thoughts he had always had, but never dared voice. Why were they coming tumbling out now? Why couldn’t he stop them? “I just…” he started, lifting his head to look at her again. “I just think we shouldn’t be hasty in any decisions right now.”

“Hasty?” Rosa asked, sounding confused. “Why would we wait? Cecil is in danger and needs us now. We must go to him.”

“What if Cecil is really a traitor?” Kain asked, then immediately regretted the question as outrage lit Rosa, her eyes narrowed, brow creased, her mouth in an angry line. Before she could say anything, Kain continued, despite not wanting to, “I know it’s impossible. But what if he is? What if King Odin is taking the right path forward and we just don’t realize the bigger picture yet?”

“What are you saying, Kain?” Rosa asked, the question short.

“What if Cecil is wrong, and staying here in Baron is being a patriot and a hero?” Kain said, wanting so desperately to be both right and wrong.

Rosa closed her eyes, almost wincing, her anger forgotten. “Then we’ll all be traitors together,” she said, her voice faint. “Even if it’s the wrong choice, we’ll be united, as we should be.” Rosa looked up at Kain, blinking away fresh tears. “Are you not coming with me?” But you promised, she wordlessly accused him, the hurt in her eyes condemning him.

“What if I said no?” Kain asked, the question feeling dangerous as he said it. “What if you finally had to choose between us, who would win? Would you stay here with me, or go to Cecil?”

“You can’t ask that of me,” Rosa protested, standing up abruptly, turning away from Kain and the bed. “It’s not fair, especially coming from you, who could not choose either.”  

Kain threw off the blanket that covered him, then swung his legs over the bed, his feet finding the floor. “Fair or not, I’m asking. Will you stay with me in Baron? Be a part of this glorious new kingdom as it unites the world,” He stood, standing tall over her. “Before, Cecil has always been better than me and the better choice for you. But now…” Kain advanced and Rosa retreated, but it was a small room and her back already up against the wall. Her hip bumped into a small rolling rack beside the wall, full of potions and wound care supplies, the glass bottles clinking discordantly in protest.

Kain had always liked seeing fear in Rosa’s eyes but could never admit it to himself before without a sense of overwhelming shame. Now, in the dim light of the recovery room, he saw it again, and this time delighted in the feeling as it made his heart beat faster.  “Dragoons will rule the skies again, and I will lead them,” he breathed as he came closer, closing the distance between them. “Now, it’s me who could make you a queen.”

“Don’t,” Rosa whimpered, having nowhere else to retreat and Kain looming too close to dart around. He put one hand on her shoulder, the other on her hip, holding her in place. She looked aside, refusing to meet Kain’s eyes, her jaw stiff in a tight line of tension. “Let me go,” she said, and he knew she meant not just from him and this room, but from Baron itself.

“No,” Kain replied, his fingers digging in deep, wondering absently if he’d leave bruises.

“Let me go, Kain,” Rosa repeated, her voice harder this time. There was no coy smile or breathless protest, no teasing smile enticing him closer. But that didn’t matter, because Kain knew the truth of her and what desire burned deep within her, in defiance of Cecil’s persistent affection. It made this game between them all better, Kain realized. It wasn’t enough to simply have Rosa but taking her away from Cecil magnified Kain’s need to possess her; it was hard to focus on anything else.

“No,” Kain said, a smirk at the corner of his mouth, deciding that her feigned protests were an added spice. He moved his hand from her shoulder and touched her chin, tipping her head up to make her look at him; the hand at her hip circled her waist, pulling her body firmly against his. “Haven’t you always wanted me to finally choose you? Isn’t that why you’ve kept Cecil at a distance, but welcome me with open legs, isn’t that why—”

Rosa’s knee, sharp and deep into his groin, halted all other words. With both hands on his shoulder, she pushed him away hard, and Kain fell promptly to the floor, curling in on himself, equally surprised and hurt by the attack. She grabbed the rolling rack of potions and tipped it over, spilling a dozen potions out to the floor. Each glass bottle shattered as it landed, showering Kain in a dangerous spray of broken shards.  

Rosa, not hesitating, stepped wide over Kain and made her way to the door. She looked back once, fury in her blue eyes, and declared, “I’m choosing Cecil.” Then she disappeared through the door, slamming it closed behind her. Outside, raised voices sounded alarmed, but Kain could not make out the muffled words.

Cursing soundly, Kain slowly stood, letting the glass shards fall off him. He stepped carefully around the shattered bottles, then pulled open the door. Outside, it was much brighter, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust.

Rosa stood surrounded by a dozen other white mages, speaking quickly, color high in her cheeks. “Some sort of dark magic, I’m not sure…” She stopped as Kain emerged, eyes full of fear, then pulled up the hood of her robes, golden hair hidden under the white fabric lined with red triangles.

Around Rosa, the other white mages looked back at Kain as well, their expressions ranging from utter terror to barely contained fury. Camaraderie wasn’t unusual amongst the military divisions of Baron, but none stronger than the bonds of healers, who stand witness to so much loss together. Kain saw this in practice as all twelve white mages mimicked Rosa, lifting their hoods to cover their heads. Now anonymous, they rushed out the door in pairs, disappearing into the castle halls in all directions.

Kain ran after them, but immediately lost track of which one was Rosa as he stepped outside the infirmary doors.

“Damn it!” Kain shouted, unsure of where to go or whom to follow. He spotted one who was Rosa’s height, moving quickly toward the airship bay doors. Kain broke out in a run after her. He came upon her quickly, his long legs making short work of the distance. “Rosa!” he shouted, yanking back the robe’s hood, but disappointed to see brown hair.

“You won’t find her,” the white mage said, her eyes narrowed into a glare, full of defiance.

“She won’t leave this castle!” Kain growled, shoving the mage away from him.

She stumbled as she caught herself, then righted. She grinned as she declared triumphantly, “You can’t stop a white mage from going anywhere they wish, all will welcome and aid her. She’ll find a way!”

Kain said nothing as he stalked away, back into the castle.

Now in his armor, Kain perched on the castle’s roof, watching the gates as people passed through, both coming into the castle and leaving it. He scanned each group and individual, trying to spy someone who might be Rosa in disguise. He knew better than to look for Rosa in white mage robes, having found a set abandoned in a well-trafficked supply closet. A few times, he had Jumped down in pursuit of someone who was heavily cloaked, only to be disappointed it wasn’t her. He had spent most of the day this way, his frustration growing more as the sun started to set.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, only the usual merchants coming into the castle full of goods and leaving empty. A few carried loads out, but this was less common. He saw a wagon full of broken furniture, likely on its way for repair; a clothier with a wagon piled high with fabrics, returning after showing off their samples; a bard and puppeteer group rolling their wagon into town, probably to test their latest performance at the local inn; a wagon full of weapons, likely on its way to the Weapons Shop for repair or sharpening. Only…

Meet me at the Weapons Shop, Rosa had told Finn.

Kain perked up, focusing on two men escorting the wagon, now recognizing them as Cid’s apprentices, dressed in civilian clothing. Why were they taking weapons, and not the quartermaster or his apprentices? Instead of confronting them directly, Kain Jumped to the ground and followed at a distance, keeping them just in eyesight as they went down to the town below.

Once in town, Kain Jumped to the rooftops again, and followed the wagon more closely as it made its slow progress through the streets of Baron. It passed through the main square, then, as Kain had guessed, pulled up to the Weapons Shop.

Marion was outside, waiting for them, and gestured them around the back. Kain Jumped to the neighboring Armor Shop, and watched there as the wagon circled around, pulling into the small loading bay of the Weapons shop, where they received all the delivery shipments. Marion, coming through the shop, came out the back door. She and the apprentices briefly spoke, but they did not stay to unload the shipment or wait for their wagon, but immediately left.

Before Marion could approach, Kain landed on the ground between her and the wagon.

“Kain!” Marion shouted, startled, and looked briefly scared. She quickly mastered herself, her expression softening into an effortless smile. “What are you doing here?” Then, more coyly, “If you’re here to see me, I’ll be off work in a few hours.”

Kain did not reply, turning to the wagon.

“Kain, wait!” Marion protested, running forward to grab him by the arm, trying to attract his attention. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you,” she said, turning him back to face her. “I could be persuaded to leave early tonight,” she added, with a wink. “Meet you in your room?”

Kain hesitated, turning back to consider Marion and her proposal. She had always been forward in her advances, but this seemed oddly inorganic and forced. He watched her closely and she met his gaze squarely, offering a bright, encouraging smile. She betrayed herself when her eyes briefly flickered to the side, focused on something beyond Kain’s shoulder. She looked back quickly, pretending it did not happen.

Kain turned in time to see Rosa, dressed in a battle mage suit and flowing cape, jump down from the wagon. She saw him and froze, looking unsure of what to do. It was their childhood game of hide-and-seek, but now with dangerous consequences.

“You’re coming with me back to the castle,” Kain said, with no kindness in his deep voice.

“No, she’s not,” said a new voice, from somewhere up high. Kain turned around to see Finn, in his red dragon armor, standing on the roof’s edge. “Commander, I’m asking you to stand down and let her go.”

Kain scowled at him, then drew his lance from his back. “Will you really try to stop me?”

Finn unsheathed his sword with a metallic hiss, then drew the blade across his body. “I will try,” he said, sinking into a Jump stance.

Dragoon duels differed from fighting any other soldier, with most of the combat in the air, usually while falling. As a rule, dragoons do not formally learn how to fight their brethren during their training. As part of the unofficial initiation in the Dragoon ranks, however, new recruits are taught how to fight each other mid-air, away from the Commander’s influence. Actual in-fighting did not happen often, but if it escalated beyond what words could resolve, then the two dragoons would take to the sky. Traditionally, the Dragoon Commander turned a blind to their happenings, letting dragoons settle their differences among themselves.

The biggest change from a duel on land to air is that time is a powerful but limiting factor; one only had so long until hitting the ground. If one dragoon could knock another off balance while falling, it could compromise the safety of their landing, with many duels resulting in serious injury or death. A duel might last only one or two Jumps, depending on luck and skill.

“Have you fought another in the air?” Kain asked, his tone mocking, knowing the answer already. “Or are you too green?”

“Does it matter?” Finn countered. “Come get me!” He knelt into a Jump stance, knees flexed. “Or do you only assault unarmed white mages now?  Show me more than nepotism made you my Commander, because now I doubt it.” With that challenge made, Finn took off, like a winking red bird in the sky.

Kain was Jumping and in the air before he thought about it, the younger dragoon’s words making his blood boil. Assault Rosa? He vehemently denied Finn’s accusation to himself -- Rosa was the one aiding and abetting a known traitor. Kain climbed altitude, pushed along further and faster by Barbariccia’s unseen influence, a whirling tornado, full of righteous fury and indignation, as if defeating Finn would prove him wrong. Kain reached the apex of his Jump, then started his descent, aimed for the flashing red armor in the rays of the setting sun.

Kain’s first strike sent Finn spinning out of control, confirming Kain’s suspicion about Finn’s inexperience. Finn tumbled awkwardly, limbs flailing wildly as he tried to right himself. Kain darted in and out of the currents around Finn; every time Finn seemed to gain his bearings and right himself, Kain would strike an arm or shoulder, throwing off Finn’s balance. Finn did little to counter Kain, barely drawing his sword just to deflect Kain’s lance. He was not focused on the fight, but on his fall as the ground drew rapidly closer.

“Finn!” Rosa called out from somewhere on the ground.

Too late, Kain realized it was not Finn’s goal to defeat Kain, only delay him long enough for Rosa to leave. She had unhooked the chocobos from their yoke, and now sat astride one, the reigns of the other in her hand. “Finn!” she called out again into the darkening sky, and this time it answered her as Finn landed, armor rattling as he hit the ground.

At the same time, Kain landed, lunging for Finn. But Finn ignored him, dashing past Kain toward Rosa and her waiting chocobo. Rosa threw Finn the other chocobo’s reigns; he caught it, then quickly mounted the bird. Rosa kicked her heels into the chocobo’s side, spurring it on. Rosa leaned low on the chocobo’s neck, hands gripping its feathers in tight fists, her golden hair and white cloak streaming behind her as she rode past Kain, seeming just inches away from his grabbing hands.

Finn followed closely behind her, and despite how Kain ran after them, he could not keep up as they fled down the streets. Kain ran for the town’s exit but was slow in his heavy armor. He arrived in time to see the two chocobos speeding away from Baron Village, at first together, then parting; one circling east around the town and castle to head north, toward the desert, the going other west, toward the country.

“Stop them!” Kain shouted to no one specific, as he surprisingly found no guards on duty. Instead, as he looked around, he was surprised to see Golbez in his black armor and Barbariccia standing by the guards’ tower. Filled with trepidation, Kain approached them both.

“Rosa Farrell’s going to warn Damcyan,” Kain breathlessly blurted out, not thinking about the words before saying them, even surprising himself.

“Is she?” Golbez asked dryly, looking up to the outstretched road before them. Rosa on her chocobo could be faintly seen in the dim light of the setting sun, riding further away from Baron every second.

“I tried to stop her,” Kain said, suddenly afraid of the consequences of letting Rosa escape. Would Golbez beat him again? Or worse, would he crack Kain’s head open and rummage through his secrets again? An involuntary shudder ran through Kain.

Golbez did not reply, his head lowered into his hands, murmuring something into his palms. Was it a spell? Kain could not guess.

“Don’t fret,” Barbariccia said, not moving from her post beside Golbez, but still grinning Kain’s way.

Golbez stretched out his hands, the spell reaching its conclusion, sickly green bubbles materializing within his palms. Barbariccia stepped forward, leaning over Golbez’s open hands, her lips pressed. Delicately, she blew a long breath, and it carried off the green bubbles, whisking them northbound into the wind.

Toward Rosa, Kain realized with a new dread. He watched as her chocobo briefly slowed, Rosa swaying uncertainly in the saddle. Then, she straightened, shrugging aside whatever had hit her, and the chocobo sprinted ahead, running with renewed vigor.

“It didn’t work,” Kain said, feeling both disappointed and relieved. “And besides, Rosa knows Esuna.”

“It did work,” Golbez corrected him with a dismissive gesture, then turned away from the road and the guard post. “It is a low-level Bio spell, mild enough she won’t even know she has it, with no other symptoms than a weakened immune system. She won’t think to use Esuna until it’s too late.”

“But if she’s crossing the desert,” Kain protested, remembering Rosa’s lecture about the dangers of desert travel, “then she’ll catch Sand Fever.”

“Exactly,” Golbez said. “She won’t survive the trip to Kaipo, much less Damcyan.” Golbez sounded insufferably pleased with himself. He vaguely motioned at both Kain and Barbariccia for them to follow. “Come along, there’s work to be done.”

Kain didn’t move despite Golbez’s order. He still watched Rosa, now a distant yellow dot on the horizon.

Barbariccia touched Kain on the shoulder, her touch whisper gentle. “Forget about her, Kain. There’s so much more waiting for you now.”

I’m choosing Cecil, Rosa had told him, without hesitation or regret, and left Kain behind. How could she?

Kain turned away, following Golbez back to the castle, trying not to look back.

Chapter Text

If Golbez had any plans for Kain, he did not tell Kain that evening, instead dismissing Kain before disappearing into the throne room, followed by Barbariccia. Kain peered in, just before the doors closed, and saw a brief glimpse of both King Odin and Richard inside.

Frustrated by his inaction, Kain stalked through the castle halls on his way back to his room. If Kain received any strange or angry looks as he passed by others in the halls, he did not notice. He climbed the tower’s staircase, but hesitated by his door, then turned away and kept climbing the stairs to the top floor. Cecil’s door opened easily enough, with no lock barring Kain’s entry.

Looking around, with everything in its place, it looked like nothing had been disturbed. But Kain knew Cecil’s kind of meticulousness, and this was not it – the blankets on the bed were tucked and folded incorrectly; the curtains drawn closed instead of flung open, shutting out the night sky instead of welcoming it; the desk, too, was wrong, with the items arranged out of Cecil’s order, as if someone rifled through everything, then set it back without remembering precisely how it went.

Kain made his way to the desk, tugging open the wide drawer. Kain expected it to be heavy, but it rolled out too easily, freed from its usual weight – Cecil’s dark knight tome was missing. Kain slammed the drawer closed, suddenly angry at its absence. Why did he care if Odin recruited a new dark knight to replace Cecil?

Kain paced Cecil’s room, trying to sort through his tumultuous thoughts, torn between relief that Cecil was finally gone and the gnawing sorrow of Cecil’s absence. Rosa, too, was a limb gone gangrenous, cut away at the joint to prevent spread to rest of his body – he was better off with them gone, but he could still feel the phantom pain of their not being there.

Kain had always struggled with loneliness but realized then he had never truly been alone until now. Of course, he had his father back, but it was like Kain becoming Commander; it lacked the actual intent behind his desire, a technical but empty fulfilment of his childhood wishes. It was somehow worse than not getting it at all, because now he no longer had the fantasy to sustain him.

Kain thought about going to Cecil’s roof, but even that was now soured. He did not yet know what to make of Barbariccia, knowing her so well yet so little made it hard to figure out how he felt about her. He only knew that being around her made him feel stronger, but her participation in sabotaging Rosa’s flight from Baron made Kain uneasy, not knowing to what end she worked toward. Golbez wanted the Crystals, Odin wanted more power, and Richard wanted dragons for himself and his descendants – but what did Barbariccia want? Kain did not know the answer yet and that unnerved him. It made the idea of going up to the roof to be alone in the wind suddenly dangerous, unsure to whom she might be whispering his secrets.

Instead, Kain took off his armor, placing each piece on the empty bust that used to hold Cecil’s dark knight armor. He wondered, briefly, what it might have been like if he had accepted Odin’s offer, then shrugged aside the thought – no, he was better than that. He was a dragoon. He would show everyone how much better he was – Cecil, Rosa, Odin, Richard, even Joanna, whose disappointed eyes always made Kain feel inferior.

Suddenly exhausted by all his thoughts and the day’s events, Kain climbed into Cecil’s bed. He arranged himself on the edge, as if he were a boy again knocking on Cecil’s door, too lonely to stay in his room alone. But now Cecil, always the boy who slept with moonlight in his eyes, was no longer there and might never be ever again.

Overwhelmed by his despair, Kain welcomed the oblivion of sleep, hoping he would not dream.

With his mind oozing Golbez’s dark magic, Kain did dream again, his memories leaking through to the dreamscape.

Kain, six-years-old, sat on the steps of the inn, looking longingly across the town’s main square, where a traveling toy merchant was setting up to display their wares. Hanging from long poles, marionettes dangled; across a long display counter was a myriad of different sized dolls;         wooden toy soldiers, brightly painted in red and yellow, Baron’s colors; and more importantly, the thing that caught his eye: surprisingly detailed wooden swords, the blade painted bright silver and the hilt a glossy grain of dark brown. Each had a unique cross guard, some painted to look like brass, some gold, others a range of plain colors, some with painted details to look like intricate metal work, in designs of different animals. Kain did not care which one, only that he was desperate to have it. Kain excitedly turned out his pockets to count his gil – only to discover that there was a new hole in his pocket, his coins lost somewhere on the streets of Baron.

Kain spent the better part of the afternoon retracing his steps, trying to recover the lost gil, but knowing the futility. Another kid probably found it already and counted themselves lucky -- Kain had been that kid before and knew the unexpected joy of it; now he knew its counterpoint in his growing disappointment of just how unfair the whole thing was. He stubbornly refused to cry about it, dragging his sleeve across his eyes, smearing dirt across his cheeks.

Kain briefly considered going home and asking his father for more gil, but immediately dismissed the idea. He would have to explain what had happened and couldn’t bear to see his father’s disapproval on top of the awful day he was already having.

Instead, Kain sat, watching with increasing distress as each new kid approached the wagon and bought toys. Too many took swords, Kain’s fear of missing out escalating with each purchase. He would be the only one without one, he thought bitterly, mad that others had them when he could not.

“Kain?” asked a tall shadow, silhouetted against the sun as Kain peered up. The figure crouched, the sun no longer against his head, and Kain recognized him as Roland Farrell – Rosa’s father. “You look upset,” Roland observed, then glanced around. “What’s going on?”

Kain sniffled hard, determined not to cry again, despite how tears tried to well up behind his eyes. “I lost my gil,” he said in a watery voice. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, fingers poking through the hole in demonstration. “The coins fell out.”

“Ah,” Roland said, frowning seriously. He looked around for a moment, as if worried about onlookers, then produced a coin, pressing into Kain’s palm. “Go buy your toy,” Roland said with a conspiratorial whisper, closing Kain’s fingers over the coin.

“Really?” Kain asked, incredulous at his good fortune.

“Of course,” Roland, now smiling. He took Kain’s hand in his and led him over to the toy merchant.

The merchant perked up at their approach, sensing another potential sale. “What can I get for your boy?”

“Which do you want, Kain?” Roland asked, not correcting the merchant’s assumption about their relationship.

It perplexed Kain that Roland said nothing, leaving Kain suddenly uncomfortable and wondering why. Instead of dwelling on the feeling, Kain looked to the toys still on display, picked nearly clean after a full day of sales. Just as Kain pointed at the last remaining sword, he spotted one of the soldiers that he had not seen from the distance. It was a knight, and instead of red and yellow like the soldiers, it was painted in dark blue and black, holding a spear at his side. Kain suddenly wanted the knight with the same fierce sense of ownership as the sword. Kain looked between the two toys, his indecisiveness only growing.

“You remind me so much of your mother,” Roland remarked, unprompted, breaking Kain’s intense concentration. Roland smiled again, but there was something sad about it that Kain did not understand or grasp. “I’ll tell you what I always told her when she could not decide on something: right or wrong, choosing is better than not choosing.”

Even as a child, any mention of his mother made Kain inexplicably uncomfortable. He shifted anxiously between his feet, his eyes on the ground to avoid Roland’s nostalgic look. “I want the sword,” he muttered, deciding that his first choice was best. He placed the coin on the counter. It had seemed suddenly heavier in his hand, like it had a new weighty burden had been added; Kain was glad for it to be gone.

“Sword it is!” the merchant declared triumphantly, taking the sword down from its display.

Roland accepted the toy, then knelt beside Kain, offering it over. “Here you go, Sir Highwind.”

Kain took it, marveling at the weight of it, like a real sword. “Thank you,” Kain said, belatedly remembering his manners and forgetting his discomfort only moments before.

“Do me a favor? Two, actually?” Roland asked, drawing Kain’s attention back. “First, gather up all your clothing and look it over for any worn spots or holes. Bring it over to my house – Joanna will mend it for you.” Roland looked up then, spotting Joanna across the market square, as if he had summoned her by name. He smiled, and it seemed genuine to Kain, reaching his eyes, and making them a brighter blue.

“And the second?” Kain prompted when Roland went quiet.

“Don’t mention this to your father,” Roland said, straightening up from his stand.

“Why not?” Kain asked, confused. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for Kain, wouldn’t Roland want his father to know how kind his friend had been?

“You don’t want him to be cross with you about losing your gil,” Roland replied, offering another wave. Kain looked over and now saw Joanna in the crowd, oblivious to Roland. “It’ll be just between us.” Roland finally caught Joanna’s attention and she waved back, then started making her way toward them.

“One more thing, Kain,” Roland said, although his eyes were still on Joanna. “Learn to be content in your choices. Don’t dwell on the what ifs or you’ll never be happy with what you do have, always wanting more.”

“What do you mean?” Kain asked, not understanding.

Roland shook his head abruptly, as if coming out of a daze. He looked down at Kain. “Don’t worry about it,” Roland said, trying to sound light. “Enjoy your sword and don’t hurt yourself with it.” Roland didn’t wait for a reply, striding forward to meet Joanna in the street, reaching to take her heavy basket off her arm. Kain watched them disappear together, back toward the Farrell home on the other side of the Inn.

Kain turned around in time to see another kid at the toy cart, peering through soldiers. His heart was in his throat as he watched the other boy point excitedly at the blue knight. Gil exchanged hands, and soon the boy was running off with the knight clutched closely to him. Kain found himself with tight fists at his side, the sword in one, suddenly angry that someone else would have the knight but not him. Sensibly, it was fair that the toy went to another, and Kain knew that, but he could not help feeling like it was somehow unfair.

Two days later, Kain found the blue knight sticking out of a school bag. It had been temporarily abandoned beside the castle wall, as its owner ran playing through the courtyard, eager to stretch his legs after a long day’s lessons. Kain looked around, and, seeing no witnesses, took the knight out of the bag, then snapped off its arms and sword. He did not even want it anymore, his jealousy turning the toy ugly in its warped perception. But neither could he tolerate the thought of someone else having it. Kain hastily tucked the broken toy back in the bag, then took off running, away from his crime.

Is this who you are? Golbez, wreathed in the darkness, asked, somewhere distant. You would rather destroy than let go?

Kain, not realizing there had been an audience to this selfish scene and not knowing how to respond, fled the memory, desperately wishing himself awake.

For one torturous moment, when Kain woke and realized where he was, he genuinely expected to see Cecil on the other side of the bed. But it was still empty, acutely reminding Kain of who was missing and all that had changed. Kain sighed, then got out of bed.

Kain considered putting his armor back on, then decided to leave it. No one else was using this room anymore, so why shouldn’t Kain have it? It had roof access, after all, and who better on the top floor than a dragoon? If it had been good enough for Odin’s previous heir, it would be good enough for the next one, Kain decided.

Still needing things from his room, however, Kain left Cecil’s room behind, making his way down the stairs to the floor below. Kain was surprised to find a young boy standing outside his door, knocking hard. He startled as Kain approached, not expecting Kain to be out already.

“Cid asked to see you, Commander Highwind,” the boy said formally; Kain wondered if he was old enough to be a cadet. Thirteen seemed so much older to Kain then, now finding himself surprised by this one’s youth.

“Now?” Kain asked, wondering what Cid wanted from him at this hour. Then, he remembered the night before, and Cid’s apprentices’ involvement in Rosa’s escape. “Now,” Kain repeated, but this time it was not a question, but stiff agreement.

“In Cid’s workshop,” the boy said, as he dashed down the stairs, presumably to let Cid know Kain was on his way. Kain wondered what excuse Cid would offer for his apprentices, or if Cid would admit to helping Rosa too. Both prospects inspired anger, either for Cid’s ignorance or betrayal, depending on what Cid’s answers might be.

Kain was too focused to notice the increase of soldiers within the Engineering Bay, or how Cid’s apprentices were suspiciously absent. As Kain approached Cid’s workshop, the cadet was peering out from the door. When he saw Kain, he jumped and disappeared back inside, but not without leaving the door swinging open.

Kain pushed it aside easily and stepped in. He was immediately seized on both sides by rough hands, his vision blocked and hearing muffled as something engulfed his head – a burlap sack, Kain guessed, by its roughness.

“Let me go!” Kain demanded, panic making his voice go high. He swung and kicked his limbs wildly, trying to break free.

“Stay down and be calm!” Cid shouted from somewhere nearby. “You can either take this Sleep Potion willingly, or I knock you a few times with my wrench and then I shove it down your throat. And to be honest, Kain, after what happened yesterday, that second option is lookin’ extra appealing right about now.”

But Kain did not stop struggling, throwing his arms and body around, trying to knock over his attackers. “What do you want?!” he demanded through panicked gulps of air, feeling like he couldn’t get enough oxygen, his heavy breathing making the air inside the bag too hot.

“I want to fix you!” Cid shouted over the chaos of the struggle. “I want to figure out what’s wrong with you and fix it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me!” Kain protested, knowing the lie as he spoke it but desperately denying it anyway.

“There’s something wrong with you,” Cid corrected him, his voice closer now. “Very, very wrong with you. You terrified Rosa and chased her out of Baron, and now my engineers can’t so much as take a piss without a guard watching ‘em. Do you really want to live like this?”

“You helped a traitor—” Kain started to say, trying to shrug off the grip on his shoulders, but failing.

But Cid did not let Kain finish, swinging his wrench into Kain’s temple; briefly, Kain’s world exploded with bright painful stars in his eyes, then everything went dark.

Kain slept, safe, warm and protected. He embraced this memory, needing the security of the moment, to calm his fears of what was happening to his waking self. He welcomed the dream moment playing out, not caring that Golbez might watch, only wanting to avoid more pain.

A woman paced beside his bed, endlessly back and forth, as dark as a shadow in Kain’s dim vision. As Kain came briefly awake in the memory, he heard her softly speaking, as to not disturb sleeping baby Kain. “I cannot give it up, Joanna. Desire for it burns like fire in my veins, and only indulging it gives me any relief.”

“Elena…” Joanna said, almost a reprimand, somewhere outside the scene, her voice distant and faint.

“Have you never wanted something you shouldn’t have?” Elena asked, throwing her hands up in the air. “Knowing how terrible it would be, and maybe even because of that, you still long for it?”

Kain strained to hear Joanna’s reply, wondering how hypocritical it would be to say to Elena, whose trust Joanna countlessly betrayed. But he heard nothing, his eyes suddenly heavy again, drifting back to sleep.

Kain woke and became aware of himself gradually. It was dark and he could not see but did not have the restriction of a bag over his head or even a blindfold, only that there was no light wherever he was. He felt himself swaying and realized he was moving, probably in the back of a wagon, if he had to guess; he could smell chocobos nearby and heard a faint wark from at least one. His arms were bound together but not his legs. His head did not throb with remembered pain, only the after-ache of healing. Wherever Cid was sending him, he wanted Kain in good condition and had had a white mage on hand during the kidnapping.

Eventually, after some time, the chocobos came to stop, and without the rattle of the wagon’s wheels on the road, Kain could hear muffled conversation outside.

“You’ll have to use another Sleep Potion, before you move him inside,” said one voice; Kain did not recognize it.

“No,” said another, and this one sounded familiar, although Kain could not yet place it. “I want him to see our faces and know who he is with.”

“But—"

“If he is hypnotized or influenced by dark magic, then he is likely just as scared as we are of what’s going on. If we can purge this poison from his mind, he’ll need our support once he is himself again.” It was then that Kain realized it was Albert speaking, his heart leaping at the recognition. “Can you trust me that he is redeemable?”

The first voice answered, “He’ll be yours for a few days to try your white mage’s methods. Chief’s trying to slip an airship out of Baron unnoticed, and when he does, he’ll come here to take Highwind to Troia.” The confidence in Cid’s abilities betrayed this voice now, Kain recognizing one of Cid’s apprentices, although he could not remember either of their names. “They’ve got healing methods outside the scope of magic. He’s hoping they’ve seen this before and know what to do.”

Albert was silent a moment, then cautiously asked, “Was Kain really running through the castle and town like a mad man, looking for Rosa and calling her a traitor? He really attacked a fellow dragoon?”

“And harassed people going in and out of town, accusing them of helping her escape him. It was… unnerving to watch, like he was possessed,” the apprentice reluctantly confirmed. “None could convince him to leave it alone, and most were too frightened by him to try.” He paused a moment and then added, “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

Albert said nothing, and Kain heard a chocobo’s wark, then its retreating gait as it ran away.

A moment later, Kain was suddenly blinded by the midday sun, the canvas stretched over the top of the wagon yanked free, exposing Kain to the outside. He covered his sensitive eyes as they adjusted, and a dark shape standing over him gradually came into focus. Kain inhaled, and the taste of fruit and flowers was in the air.

“How much can I trust you, Kain?” Albert asked. He looked older, with new lines around his eyes and mouth, brown hair with more threads of silver than Kain recalled. Albert’s obvious worry darkened his face, making him look somber. “Do I need to leave you tied up, or can you walk?”

“I can walk,” Kain answered gruffly. Albert leaned forward, knife in hand, and cut away the ropes around Kain’s wrists. With his hands free, Kain pulled himself up and out of the wagon. He already knew where he was, having identified it by the scented breeze.

Highwind Manor was at the height of its springtime beauty, early season flowers still tight in bud, their fragrance only a hint of what it would be only weeks later. The estate’s steward, Jon Westcott, stood waiting on the steps, wearing his concern plainly on his face. Beside him stood two other dragoons, wearing their dragon’s armor, both armed with their weapons drawn. Albert held up a hand as they approached, and the dragoons relaxed from their ready battle stance, weapons sheathed again.

“You took command from me,” Kain said, sounding more hurt than accusative.

“Your men were confused by your actions,” Albert replied, sounding matter of fact. “You behave oddly, not like a dragoon, but skulking about the castle like a defeated man who fears the enemy around every corner. Then you attack Rosa, who is not only your closest friend but also a fellow soldier, throwing around accusations of treason.” Albert paused; Kain had only seen Albert angry a few times, but now he saw the tight control Albert maintained, keeping his voice even. “Did you know the Crown detained Marion Oakes for questioning? And Cid’s apprentices? The engineers have been released, but Marion’s still being held. If Odin’s ire doesn’t cool, she might lose her head to the executioner’s blade.”

From Albert’s mouth, it seemed so obvious how wrong Kain had been, how twisted his thinking had gotten. How had it gotten that far? Kain looked away, filled with sudden shame at his actions, and what he allowed himself to do.

“What happened to you, Kain? What did they do?” Albert asked, gently.

“I don’t know,” Kain answered, as honestly as he could, overwhelmed by even trying to think of it. He swayed uncertainly, suddenly off balance.

Albert put an arm around Kain’s shoulder, steadying him. “We’ll figure it out together,” Albert said, as he guided Kain forward, up the stairs to Highwind Manor. “Whatever they did, we’ll undo it.”

By the time Kain came into command, there were not many dragoons left in the ranks, no more than two dozen, most of them older than Kain himself. There’d been fewer interested cadets each year, with the last having only five dragoons last to recruitment.

As Kain was escorted through Highwind Manor, he saw most, if not all, of his dragoons, as they watched him through the eyes of their dragon helms. He wondered what message this would send to Odin, to have the Dragoons all deserting at the same time. What message did it send to Baron? And what did it mean if Kain joined them – or if he did not?

Kain worried over all as Jon led Albert and Kain through the manor. They passed through the kitchens, into a narrow hallway; a small room at its end. “In older days, white mages would sometimes come and stay in residence, treating the nearby communities’ citizens for a season or two. It was considered a privilege to host them,” Jon said, inadvertently slipping into tour guide mode. He realized as much and looked briefly embarrassed. “There hasn’t been a white mage here in years, but I do keep it stocked with supplies in case of emergencies,” Jon added, sounding less rehearsed.

The room wasn’t large – enough for a bed, basin, and shelf full of various potions and supplies. There was a single window on the opposite wall to the door, offering dim light into the room. Outside, the sky had darkened with thick clouds, the first drops of rain beginning to fall.

With Albert’s hand on his shoulder to guide him, Kain reluctantly entered the room.

Jon watched with obvious trepidation. “Whatever healing you attempt, don’t hurt the boy.”

“I’ll try not to,” Albert said, leaving the rest unvoiced, but I will do what I must.

Jon seemed to sense that sentiment, worry now knitting his brow. He left, with one more uncertain glance back, just before he passed through the door. Before Kain had the courage to speak up and ask questions, the white mage arrived. He was a middle-aged man, red hair streaming down his shoulders, looking intensely serious as he entered the room.

The white mage and Albert spoke quietly together, soft enough Kain could not quite hear; he pretended not to worry but could not help his anxiety rising when they both turned to look at him, silently appraising him. Kain sat on the edge of the bed, just watching them. Outside, rain began to fall, the sound of the rain drops on the window filling the background with a pleasant tapping.

“The healer’s going to examine you,” Albert finally said to Kain, like he spoke to a wary animal. “Just focus on your breathing and try to relax.”

The white mage lowered his head into his cupped palms, arcane words shaping the spell in his hands. Kain did not know magic well at all, but he recognized some of the common white magic spells, mostly from being often present when Rosa practiced them. But this was not one that Kain knew.

“Libra,” the white mage breathed, the spell culminating in power. He turned and reached for Kain, tendrils of magic circling around Kain, probing with a gentle but impersonal touch. Kain knew the spell, then, as one used to examine a patient or enemy, for their strengths, weaknesses, and any magical afflictions or enhancements they might have. Rosa had never used Libra on him – she never needed it, always knowing Kain well enough to know what was wrong.

The white mage, finding nothing on the surface of the body, poked deeper, now trying to peek into Kain’s mind. Kain tried to will himself to stillness and calmness by focusing on his breathing, but as the magic creeped further inward, Kain felt panic rise, making his chest tight, suddenly unable to get a full breath.

“No!” Kain protested, abruptly jumping up. The white mage was too close, crowding Kain, stealing too much air from the room for Kain to properly breathe. Kain pushed the white mage away, sending him stumbling into Albert.

“Kain, wait—” Albert tried to say, but Kain wasn’t listening. Kain darted out of the small room, into the kitchen that preceded it. In his haste, Kain rushed through the galley style kitchen; his shoulder knocked into a stack of pans left out on the counter as he passed, sending them crashing down to the ground, the sound echoing through the empty kitchen.

As if to mimic the sound, outside, thunder boomed nearby. Despite it still being daytime, the storm overhead had blackened the skies, and now the inside of the manor was ominously dark. Kain stumbled out of the kitchen, unsure of where to go.

“Kain!” Kain heard Albert behind him. Kain’s indecisiveness evaporated, and he picked a hallway at random, running away. Other voices joined in, Kain recognizing the dragoons as they shouted to one another, working together to try and locate Kain in the large manor.

Kain came to a winding staircase, both going up and down, and hesitated. Where would be best to hide? He could not take to the skies – it was dangerous because of the storm, but also useless because the other dragoons could pursue him easily.

“Master Highwind!” called a voice in an urgent whisper from somewhere above. Kain peered up the stairs and saw Jon standing there, beckoning Kain. “Come, I know a private way outside.”

Kain didn’t move, paralyzed by his uncertainty. Then he heard the rattle of armor and heavy bootsteps coming closer and that made the decision for him; he dashed up the stairs, taking them two and a time with his long legs. Jon, moving quickly, led Kain through the upstairs rooms, sometimes pausing to lock a door behind them after they passed through.

Finally, they came to the owner’s suite, Kain recognizing the furnishing of the foyer as they entered. Jon went to the study and Kain followed. Inside, Kain realized there was no other door to exit through, and he turned to Jon, feeling betrayed and trapped.

But Jon was at the bookshelf, searching for something. What book could possibly be so important right now, Kain wondered, trying to swallow down the hysterical urge to laugh. Jon found what he was looking for, tugging the spine of a large book, tipping it outward.

Behind them, the small, unused hearth creaked open, swinging outward, revealing a dusty passage within. Kain looked back to Jon who grinned, unable to help himself. Together, with Jon leading again, they entered the narrow passage, darkness engulfing them. Kain only had the sound of Jon’s footsteps to follow as he groped blindly forward. He realized they were descending, the passage pitching downward as they went.

Eventually, Jon came abruptly to a stop, and Kain realized they had run into a wall. Jon fussed with something and then an unseen door opened to the outside; Kain breathed the fresh air with gratitude as he stepped outside into the cold rain. They were behind the house, Kain realized, recognizing the weeping willows that surrounded the back of the property.

“Why are you helping me?” Kain asked, raising his voice to be heard over the insistent patter of rain around them.

“Your mother would have wanted me to help you,” Jon said with a nostalgic sigh. Then, more firmly. “Come, we’ll hide in the cellar until dark, then escape tonight when they can’t follow.” Kain remembered the cellar and its strange mausoleum of heirloom armor within, and how the shadows danced around Cecil’s lantern’s flickering light as he showed them Elena’s dark knight armor. Kain shuddered at the thought of being there in the utter darkness but did not protest.

Jon and Kain followed the side of the house to the cellar’s entrance, but as they approached, Kain saw that the large double doors were already open, the darkness inside already beckoning Kain to descend.

“Who opened this? I keep it locked.” Jon said, kneeling to pick up a broken chain beside the open doors, the metal links bent open. The still closed lock dangled uselessly from one end. “How on earth…?” Jon asked rhetorically, trailing off as he peered down into the dark cellar, a sudden fear making him swallow hard.

The shadows within the cellar moved, giving Kain a sudden sense of vertigo. Up out of the darkness came a figure wreathed in shadows, their body and face obscured. Kain grabbed Jon’s arm and yanked him back, stumbling as he did so.

The black figure did not acknowledge either of them, the moving shadows around them still making it hard to identify who it might be – it was not anyone Kain recognized. Their armor was as black as the shadows that crawled around them, forever twisting and obscuring. It continued up the cellar stairs, up out of the dark; Kain’s blood rain cold at the sight, and he froze.

Jon resisted Kain, instead falling to his knees, hands reaching toward the sky, palms upturned. “Has our judgment day finally come?” Then he clasped his hands together, praying fervently over them. “Great Crystals, forgive our ignorance and sins because of it. Show us mercy as your avatars return to purge the land of the unworthy—"

Lightning crashed overhead, briefly illuminating the yard. Kain saw four dragoons surrounding them, their colored armor flashing brightly, then they were gone again, lost to the storm’s darkness.

“Get back,” Kain told Jon, stepping ahead of him, feeling suddenly protective of the old man, despite Kain’s own fear of being recaptured and of the strange figure in black. He did not know whom to fear more. As if to answer him, the shadow figure moved, disappearing into the dark of the trees that lined the yard.

“Stand down, Commander,” called a voice; it was not Albert, Kain realized with dismay, but instead Finn. The red dragoon emerged from the deep shadows that surrounded them, flanked by the other three. All had their weapons drawn.

“Four dragoons versus two unarmed men?” Kain asked, trying to sound flippant but feeling suddenly terrified.

“I would not hesitate to put down a wild animal who foamed madness,” Finn spat back, not attempting to hide his disgust. “Stand down, or be put down,” Finn warned, as he drew closer.

In the outskirts of the darkness, the shadows moved, rippling black waves distorting. It reached for one of the dragoons who flanked Finn, the one standing closest to the trees. With a surprised yelp, the dragoon stumbled forward, then fell to his knees.

“What’s wrong?” Finn asked, turning to the fallen dragoon, crouching beside him. As the dragoon looked up, he sputtered wetly, spraying blood violently from his mouth, droplets splattering across Finn’s helm and breastplate, a darker red than the red metal of the armor. The injured dragoon clutched at Finn’s arm with a desperate grip, as if he were drowning. Finn looked up as the dragoon shuddered, then went still in Finn’s arms. “Be alert!” Finn shouted in alarm.

“The Earth Arch-Fiend walks among us! Crystals grant us mercy!” Jon cried, hysterical now, sobbing openly.

The two other dragoons spun around, now facing the surrounding trees and shadows, unsure of where the attack came from or even what it was. One dared a step closer and was rewarded for his bravery by something seizing him suddenly and dragging him away, taken by the darkness. Lightning flashed overhead again, and Kain saw the dragoon, armored in green, momentarily, fighting off what looked to be a dark apparition. The light died and all went dark again. Thunder belatedly boomed at the same time as the dragoon’s terrified scream.

Then all went quiet.

“What’s going on?!” Finn shouted at the sky.

The other dragoon Jumped away, lost from sight. Kain heard a rattle as the armored dragoon landed on the manor’s roof, probably intent on retreat. But the rippling shadows followed, convalescing in a dark cloud overhead. Kain heard a thud, then watched as the dragoon’s body fell bonelessly off the roof, hitting the ground hard. Kain wasn’t sure if it was the impact that killed him or if he died before falling; either way, the dragoon did not move.

“Fight me like a man!” Finn demanded, waving his sword wildly, his breath hard and panting.

Kain saw another flutter of darkness, a new shadow emerging from the trees. Finn turned to meet it, his sword drawn and ready. The shadow had its own blade in hand, long and black, dripping red. “Go,” the shadow said, its voice too low and raspy to tell if it were man or woman. “Leave or die like the others.”

“Call it off!” Finn demanded, now turning to look at Kain. He had his sword still raised, and took a determined few steps toward Kain, perhaps trying to intimidate him into compliance. Kain blinked and the shadow moved, stealing across the yard, metal hissing as it passed. The shadow went through Finn, then disappeared into the surrounding dark. Finn took one halting step forward, then suddenly stopped.

“I….” Finn tried to say, before his head fell forward, neatly separated from his body. It hit the ground and rolled, the impact knocking the severed head loose from the dragon’s helm. Finn’s head rolled a few times, then stopped. Kain saw the disbelief in Finn’s still open eyes, the look of shock permanently frozen on his face.

Behind Kain, Jon began praying anew, whispering fiercely to himself. “Please, oh avatar of Earth and Rebirth, we do not deserve your mercy, but I beg of you!”

A new figure appeared, dressed in a robe that might have once been white but was yellowed with age; it looked like a funeral shroud. Behind it stood the deadly shadow, still too dark to make out details. “Go back to Baron,” the shrouded figure hissed, sounding male, the smell of the grave pungent in the air as he spoke. “Our Master awaits your service.”

“Who are you?” Kain asked, his voice shaking.

“Scarmiglione,” the figure answered, before turning around to face the manor. He reached, pointing with a hand that now looked oddly like a creeping tendril in the darkness around him. “Leave this place, and I will teach these dragoons the consequences of crossing Lord Golbez.”

The shadow flickered, moving quickly in the dark again. From inside the manor, Kain heard raised voices of remaining dragoons. At first, they shouted back and forth, barking orders or warnings, but were soon replaced by screams – brief terrified shrieks, followed by silence.

“Come on!” Kain said to Jon, grabbing the older man by the arm and dragging him along. Jon stumbled a few times, and Kain helped him back up, both looking back with fear that they were followed. But nothing seemed to pursue them as they ran around the house, making their way to the chocobo stables.

The birds were agitated by the storm and noise, shifting restlessly in their stalls. Kain scrambled to saddle two of them, helping Jon up on the back of one before mounting himself. “Go!” Kain commanded, kicking his heels into the chocobo’s side. The bird responded promptly, running skittishly out of the tables, its rider’s fear fueling its own.

As they fled down the road, already soaked by the relentlessly falling rain, Kain risked a glance back at the Highwind Manor. More screams filled the air, and a small part of Kain privately hoped that at least Albert might survive. Turning back to the road ahead of them, Kain determinedly set his attention back on returning to Baron, back to King Odin, his father, Barbariccia, and most importantly, back to Golbez.

Kain knew, at least, that the darkness harbored inside of him was glad; it offered safety and security, like the mother’s love Kain would never know.

Chapter Text

With the road too dangerous to navigate in the storm, Kain and Jon did not go straight to Baron. Instead, with Jon leading the way, they came to a neighboring farm, whose modest homestead offered shelter from the rain, a warm meal, and a change of clothing. Jon told them that the manor had been seized for quartering, which wasn’t far from the truth, given the Dragoons’ occupation of it.

“What did we see?” Kain asked Jon, whispering once they were alone in the guest room.

“I don’t know,” Jon replied, looking terrified again, his hands shaking.

“You said something about Arch Fiends,” Kain prompted, curiosity winning out over fear.

Jon hesitated; his cheeks colored in surprise embarrassment. “A crisis of faith,” Jon explained, sounding sheepish. “Growing up, my family was deeply involved in a minor sect of the Crystals’ faith. It was believed the end times were near, that the Crystals would call their avatars to action, causing a world-wide war to cleanse the unfaithful. I thought…” he paused, a shudder going through him, and Kain knew it was not from the cold.  “I thought we witnessed one of them.”

“And now you’re not certain?” Kain asked.

“After everything we saw, I’m not even certain of my own sanity,” Jon answered in a frightened whisper.

“We have to go back,” Kain said, and watched the color drain out of Jon’s face. “We must find evidence of what happened. And help anyone left alive who might need it. Those men were – are – under my command, I have to bring them back to Baron before they’re accused of desertion.” Most importantly, Kain had to find something that made yesterday make sense, both for Jon’s sanity and his own.

Jon nodded grimly but said nothing more.

The storm lasted through the rest of the day, into the small hours of the night. Kain tried to sleep, but found himself too restless, grappling with too many questions about what had happened. He sorted through the images in his mind, of deadly shadows slicing through men, blood splattering the grass, a white figure beckoning, and a silhouette in black stalking the edges of the trees. Jon had it right – if he thought too deeply about it, Kain was not certain of his own sanity.

Kain’s dreams, too, were a terrifying place he did not dare to go. Golbez lurked at the corners, plucking at exposed threads, urging Kain’s return. I’m coming, Kain told the insistent tugging, then aside to himself, After I get answers… Kain was not sure if it was the distance from Baron, his own new mental fortitude, or Golbez graciously granting him autonomy. Regardless of the reason, Kain found himself grateful.

At first light, Jon and Kain were up and ready to leave, their chocobos as restless to go as they were. The storm had been a much-needed thorough soaking of the countryside, with the new buds peeking out overnight, lightly scenting the air with their faint fragrance. The beauty of the morning sun glittering on the glistening branches seemed to somehow mock them and their worries, contrasting too deeply with the gory violence of the day before.

Finally, Highwind Manor came into view, standing silent and still as a grave; no birds flew overhead or chirped nearby. The two chocobos came to a stop, their riders gawking at the manor ahead.

“What happened to all the people?” Kain asked, realizing he had seen no serving folk or groundkeepers, unlike his first visit.

“I sent them away when the Dragoons arrived,” Jon said, his chocobo shifting nervously beneath him. Jon leaned forward and pet the back of the chocobo’s neck in a reassuring gesture, and it seemed to settle. “Everyone wanted to go back to their homes to be with their families – the possibility of war with Damcyan has everyone fearing a counterattack.” Jon paused, looking aside from Kain suddenly. “I’m sorry I let them take you. They told me they wanted to help you, but…” Jon peered back up at him, guilt in his eyes. “Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Kain said, the words tight through his clenched jaw. He did not actually answer Jon’s question, but Jon did not push, only nodding mutely.

They rode on, more slowly, approaching the manor from the front. They left the chocobos in the stables, with fresh water and feed, and entered through the servants’ entrance. The house was eerily silent as they moved through the halls.

Kain could smell the blood before he saw it, as they approached the first floor’s large foyer, the copper tang of it filling his nose and mouth. Kain, feeling overwhelmed, fought back a gag, swallowing down the urge to vomit.

Here, a battle had ensued, bloody puddles on the floor starting to thicken and dry, crusting over; a spray of blood on one wall; a mess of smeared handprints on another. Despite this evidence, Kain was surprised to realize there were no bodies; the only clue left behind were boot prints in red, tracking through the various bloody spots on the floor, then finally leading out, through a hall to the back of the house. Someone had stood beside each of these bodies and, what -- carried them out?

Jon stood by the door as Kain looked around, murmuring prayers to himself.

“Where does this lead?” Kain asked, gesturing down the hallway with bloody tracks.

“The backyard,” Jon said, then swallowed hard and added, “We should check the cellar while we’re out there. To see if anything’s missing or changed.” He found a lantern hanging on a nearby wall and took it down, looking just a bit more confident with its light in hand.

There was nothing Kain wanted to do least, but he said nothing and only nodded.

They followed the tracks, coming across a few more signs of struggle – more footprints moving around erratically, handprints on the walls, and various discarded weapons. One particularly gruesome scene had a severed hand still clutching a sword’s hilt, the only body part present so far; Kain was dismayed to recognize Albert’s blade. He shuddered and hurried past, trying not to dwell on it.

They followed the prints outside to the yard, where they disappeared into the wet grass, washed away in last night’s rain. Jon, timid and hesitant, approached the cellar door, peering uncertainly in. He held the lantern up, as if he feared something lurking close by, waiting to jump out at them.

“I’ll go,” Kain said, taking the lantern from Jon. “Stand watch up here.”

Looking relieved, Jon nodded eagerly.

Kain was less enthused but didn’t hesitate as he descended the cellar stairs. What had the shadow been doing in here? What artifact might be missing? He asked himself these questions as if he didn’t already know, and what he had suspected since finding Cecil’s dark knight tome missing – King Odin had obviously recruited a new dark knight and was sending them to collect their inheritance. The light of the day and distance from the yesterday’s events made it easier to view them with a calm, objective eye.

Kain entered the armory, lifted his lantern high, and found the display bust in the middle of the room empty, missing Cecil’s careful assembly of Elena’s dark knight armor. He sighed, wondering who this dark knight might be, and if they were a woman, to want Elena’s old armor. It explained what he saw, too, someone using Darkness, cloaked by the storm, looking like a moving shadow. They were skilled at the blade, too, evidenced by their quick and deadly attacks, effectively cutting down the dragoons in a single lethal stroke.

Just as Kain turned to exit, he heard Jon’s surprised scream of terror. Sprinting through the dark, swinging lantern in hand, Kain ran back up the cellar stairs. He found Jon stumbling back from the willow trees, pointing in horror at something ahead.

Kain ran to Jon, standing ahead, to protect Jon from whatever enemy threatened him. But there was no man or beast ahead, only Elena’s grave. “What’s wrong…” Kain started to ask, but his eyes adjusted to the bright sun overhead and he saw what had scared Jon – Elena’s grave was freshly dug, overturned earth surrounding the new hole. Kain did not dare look into the open grave, he did not want to know if –

“Her casket is open!” Jon howled, answering the question Kain didn’t want answered. “The Earth Arch Fiend has called her to duty! She stalks the earth again, purging the unworthy, drowning them in their own blood--”

“Stop it!” Kain shouted over Jon, unable to bear any more. “That is not what happened here!” He turned around to face Jon, resolutely putting the grave and its blasphemy behind him. Kain remembered Rosa’s joke about sleeping on Elena’s grave and shuddered, suddenly missing Rosa with an intensity that scared him. Kain took a deep breath to steady himself, then spoke, “Was my mother buried with her sword? Some knights are.”

Jon, who had fallen to his knees, arms raised in prayer, blinked in surprise, lowering his hands. “Yes,” he answered, looking confused. “Why?”

“Someone is taking dark knight artifacts,” Kain said, trying to sound calm. “Cecil’s dark knight tome was gone from his room, and my mother’s armor is missing from the cellar.” Kain gestured absently behind him, indicating Elena’s grave but refusing to face it again. “I’m guessing they wanted her weapon as well.”

Jon considered that, slowly getting up from his knees. “You think so?” he asked, sounding uncertain. “If you check the casket, and her body is still there, we would know….”

“No,” Kain said, the word clipped and short. “No,” he said, more gently, shaking his head. “This was a graverobber, not a necromancer. We saw a formidable dark knight yesterday, slaughtering their enemies in the name of the King’s justice. And we were very, very lucky to not be counted as an enemy of the Crown.” Kain looked past Jon, up at the manor. “Do you think this place will ever be as it once was?”

“It will always carry the wicked stains of yesterday,” Jon said, the words solemn as he, too, looked up to consider Highwind Manor. “Perhaps, in time, we can appreciate its beauty again. But…” Jon looked uncertainly over his shoulder at Elena’s grave. “But not today.”

“Not today,” Kain grimly agreed.

Together, Jon and Kain rode through the afternoon to Baron, stopping occasionally to let their chocobos breathe. Kain was both relieved and filled with dread at the sight of it cresting the horizon. Instead of taking Jon to the Inn, as was the original plan, Kain rode past it, Jon’s chocobo following out of habit and instinct. Kain drew up to the house beside the Inn – Rosa’s house.

“I have an idea,” Kain said, feeling suddenly inspired. He dismounted his chocobo. Jon did the same, looking confused as he followed Kain to the door.

“Where are we?” Jon asked.

Before Kain could answer or even knock on the door, it opened, Joanna standing on the other side. At first, she looked angry, eyes narrowed at Kain. But once she looked past him to Jon, recognition softened her manner immediately. “Jon!” she cried, pushing past Kain, to embrace the older man.

Jon looked at first surprised, then smiled, tears pooling in his eyes. He hugged Joanna back. “It’s good to see you too, Mistress Farrell.”

“He needs a place to stay,” Kain said, feeling uncomfortable at the emotional reunion and wanting to look away. “Could you help him? Highwind Manor is…” Kain hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“No longer hospitable,” Jon finished for Kain.

Joanna smiled, though it was strained. “Of course, you can stay. As long as you need,” she said. She took Jon by the arm and began leading him inside. “Come in,” she said encouragingly. She paused at the door, gesturing for Jon to continue inside. Once he was through, she closed the door, shutting Jon inside. She whirled around on Kain. “I will take him on one condition,” she said, voice losing all softness.

“What?” Kain asked.

“You get Marion’s father and Cid’s daughter permission for a visit in the dungeons,” Joanna said, crossing her arms over her chest, leveling a stare, full of judgment, on Kain. “They’ve both been at the castle every day, trying to beg Odin for entry, but he refuses to see them. You can argue that Cid and Marion were rightly arrested for treason, but it is cruel to keep their families away.”

“Cid’s in the dungeons now?” Kain asked, then shook his head at his own question – if Odin had sent his new dark knight to save Kain, then he must have also figured out that Cid was involved in the kidnapping. “What can I do?” he asked instead.

“You obviously walk in high esteem with King Odin,” Joanna said, frowning deeper. “Find a way to convince him.” She hesitated, then asked, eyes suddenly full of tears, “Did Rosa really get away? She wasn’t secretly executed and left in a ditch somewhere?”

“She got away, determined to find Cecil,” Kain answered gruffly. “It would be best if you simply acted if she were away on a mission, so no one suspects you of treason by association.”

Joanna swiped at her eyes, blinking away her tears. “And if you find her? I beg you, do not drag her back in. Seek your glory in warfare if you must, but must Rosa be witness for it to have meaning for you?”

Feeling ashamed, Kain looked aside, Joanna’s words cutting too close to the truth, her accuracy making him uncomfortable.

“I see,” Joanna said – and she did, her green gaze too penetrating to allow Kain to successfully lie. “Rosa’s more resourceful and clever than you give her credit for, she’ll stay one step ahead of you.” Joanna did not wait for a reply, opening the door, stepping inside, then slamming it closed behind her.

Deep down, for Rosa’s sake, Kain hoped Joanna was right.

Kain stopped briefly in his room to change clothing and was surprised to find his armor returned, set up on its bust in his room. He wondered if that were a message, to stay content with his current accommodation and not reach for more, or simply a coincidence, some servant recognizing his armor and returning it to his room. Either way, Kain hurried to change his clothing, then put on his armor; each piece felt heavier than he remembered, his limbs already protesting the extra weight. He shrugged aside his reluctance and hurried to exit.

What had started as a faint but insistent tug in the back of his mind, had evolved in pressure, becoming more present as Kain entered Baron and made his way through the castle. Now, Kain could feel Golbez’s urgency, the sorcerer bellowing his summoning of Kain into his mind, crowding out all other thoughts. With his pulse battering against his skull, loud and throbbing, Kain stumbled his way through the castle. He stopped, once, falling to his knees, desperate for relief, but the pain instead magnified, an indescribable pin prick of searing, white-hot pain; it needled at his tenderest parts, precise and intentional. When it finally subsided, Kain staggered to his feet, finding himself grateful to Golbez for the reprieve. As he hurried along the castle corridors, Kain had no other thoughts of disobedience, no matter how small.

Kain thought he was going to the throne room, but instead, he found himself instead going further into the Royal Wing. No guards stopped Kain or questioned his presence, which Kain found odd, but the thought was vague and distant, swept away by Golbez’s impatience, urging Kain to hurry. The pressure in his mind continued to build as Kain went further into Odin’s quarters, then, as he approached one set of closed double doors, the feeling immediately evaporated. Kain blinked hard, as if coming out of a daze, and blankly stared at the closed doors for a long moment.

Only, the door wasn’t closed, Kain realized, peering closer. The door was slightly ajar, muffled voices coming from within. Kain leaned in closer, peeking in through the crack. He saw and recognized Barbariccia first, who stood beside a tall figure in a dark red cloak, their features shadowed within the hood. Across the room, seated at a table that dominated the room, was a strange turtle-like creature, blue scales lining its strange, elongated face. Pacing the room was a ghost – the thing in the white grave shroud, who had commanded the new dark knight to protect Kain – Scarmiglione, Kain remembered.

What’s going on? Kain wondered, expecting something from Golbez to prompt him, but getting nothing.

Instead, Barbariccia looked up suddenly, looking over her shoulder at the door. She caught Kain’s eyes, winked, then looked back at the red figure. “So, when do move into your fancy tower, Rubicant?”

“As soon as I can take Eblan,” the figure in red – Rubicant, apparently – responded, sounding male. “I’m here to request more troops for a siege.”

The turtle-creature perked up; its odd face twisted in a scowl. “With the upcoming attack on Fabul, there are no troops to spare.”

“Cagnazzo,” Rubicant said, impatiently stressing the name. “If I am to take the Tower of Babil, then Eblan must be wiped from the map. They are too close and could report on our activities. Not all of us were handed our kingdom takeovers by a greedy monarch falling into our hands and thus, must meticulously plan.”

“Eblan would report nothing! They’ve had no correspondence with Baron in the last two years! And furthermore,” Cagnazzo said, abruptly standing from his seat. “I’ve worked very hard in that stinking flesh prison to—” Cagnazzo started, standing abruptly up from his seat, his voice rising.

“Ssssstop…” Scarmiglione interrupted with a hissing stutter. “I’ve been recruiting.”

“What do you mean?” Rubicant asked, interest piqued.

“There’ssss plenty of bodiesssss for your war machine, now,” Scarmiglione replied; Kain could not see his face within the shroud but heard a smile in his words. “Plenty of souls willing to spill the blood of othersssss.”

“Have a new pet?” Barbariccia asked with an arched eyebrow. “A new minion? A devotee of grave magic come to worship you?”

“You talk of pets,” Cagnazzo said with a scoff. “You have not one but two dragoons dangling after you.”

“I am their goddess,” Barbariccia corrected him, never breaking her smile. “Are you mad that there’s no one to serve you?”

“I have an entire army at my disposal,” Cagnazzo said, flinging his arms wide in gesture. “These folk will do anything in the name of patriotism. I order them to take the Crystals, and religious nationalism springs up, justifying Baron’s actions to themselves. How much more devoted could a people be?”

Rubicant shook his head, the hood coming off with the gesture. He was as alien as the others, his skin was stretched tight over his horned skull, a vibrant red color, highlighted in blue in a few spots. The rest of his body remained covered by the cloak. “Have you all forgotten where we started? Lord Golbez lifted us all from ruin and death. And now, when we are so close to victory, you three are too distracted by your own egos and vanity to realize how close we are to losing everything.”

A chastened hush fell over the room.

Barbariccia looked over at the door again, this time, minutely shaking her head at Kain. Taking the hint, Kain backed away from the door. He turned, intent on exiting, to see Golbez standing there, clad in his dark armor, his impassive helmet watching Kain as he eavesdropped.

“Master, I—”

“Ready yourself for deployment to Fabul,” Golbez spoke over Kain, not forcefully, but he didn’t need to be. “You’ll be in command again.”

“Of the Dragoons?” Kain asked, suddenly hopeful. “Did any remain loyal?”

“Some did, but they’ll be on another mission,” Golbez said, a strange hint of amusement in his words. “You’ll be commanding soldiers for the ground assault on Fabul Castle.”

Kain felt suddenly overwhelmed by emotion, his gratitude and relief at being offered a second chance. “Thank you,” he said, then belatedly added, “Master.”

“One more thing, Kain,” Golbez said, summoning Kain’s attention again. “Cagnazzo is wrong. You’re not Barbariccia’s, even if Richard is.” Golbez paused and Kain felt a possessive hook in his mind as Golbez then added, “You’re mine.”

The words sent a terrified shiver through Kain, followed by immediate shame, for he knew Golbez saw the shape of his fear inside him, there was nothing he could hide where Golbez could not reach.

“You are like a Flamehound trained to sniff out vermin,” Golbez continued without mercy, “Everywhere you go, enemies reveal themselves.” Golbez moved past Kain, pulling the door fully open. Before he went inside, he paused to look back at Kain. “Now, you will go to Fabul and see who might be there to meet you.”

“Yes, Master,” Kain answered as he knew he must.

Over the next few days, the castle was in a frenzied buzz of pre-war preparation. No one had any illusions about the military’s activity this time. For Mysidia and even Damcyan, they had the excuse of ignorance. Now, there was no misunderstanding that the airships were being loaded up with bombs to destroy homes and lives, all in the name of a Crystal.

Kain tried to go to Odin to ask for clemency for both Cid and Marion, but his traitorous feet turned him away each time, finding a new important task to do, his mind pressing with the sudden urgency of it. It also seemed strange to Kain, hearing Cagnazzo brag about his control of Baron, but Kain had never seen Cagnazzo before that encounter. Where was the turtle hiding? Was he one of Odin’s new war advisors?

 Kain also attempted, once, to go to the dungeons himself. He got through the door and down the stairs, but the sound of Marion’s soft sobbing stopped him abruptly.

“It’ll be all right,” Cid whispered hoarsely to her as Kain fled back up the stairs. “We’ll get through this together…”

Kain saw Jon, briefly, passing him on the streets. A preacher had set up in the main square, his hands lifted to the sky, crying loud about the divinity of Baron’s role in the world, how a prosperous utopia would follow once all the Crystals had been gathered. Jon stood in the crowd of others, listening with rapt fascination, his eyes wide and full of fear. Kain said nothing, trying to sidestep the crowd. He wondered if it had been Golbez who prompted him to bring Jon to Joanna’s house, knowing that Jon would feel compelled to report any unusual activity in the Farrell home that might link Joanna to her rebel daughter. How could Kain possibly fight the kind of insidious mind control that felt like his own thoughts?

A man in the crowd saw Kain, and recognizing him, grabbed Kain by the arm. “Bless you, Commander Highwind, on your mission to take back Baron’s rightful inheritance.” Kain tried to yank his arm away, but the man held on tighter. “May the Light of the Crystals always shine on you and your bravery in defending our realm—”

Kain, feeling a spike of panic, pushed hard, sending the man stumbling back into the crowd. A concerned murmur rippled through the crowd, and before any more could turn and recognize him, Kain Jumped away, safe on the roof of a nearby house.

The next morning, the call to arms for the Fabul Siege was finally issued, and Kain was grateful, at last, to answer it.

Chapter Text

Baron’s citizens had been in awe of her airships since their birth only a generation prior. It was custom for family and friends to gather in the airship bay, waving goodbye to soldiers leaving on long or especially dangerous deployments. There were rarely tears, the folk of Baron being a stoic lot, but it was not unemotional. Children often cheered with pride; fellow soldiers might watch with envy, having missed out on the desired assignment; lovers exchanged final longing looks, neither wanting to be the first to turn away.

None of those were gathered today, as lines of soldiers streamed into the waiting ships. These marines were the deadly cargo to be carried to Fabul, not bombs as had been in Damcyan. Kain vaguely heard it was because Fabul’s Crystal Shrine was harder to access from the outside, and bombs would not penetrate through. He wondered, trying to keep the thought small and private, if it was because the Engineers refused to assist in loading the bombs, especially with Cid still imprisoned.

In fact, as Kain looked around the airship bay, he realized he saw none of the engineers present, only countless soldiers. When had Baron’s army grown so large? Before the war started, Kain could recognize and name most of Baron’s Red Wings marines and castle’s royal guards, even while wearing their helmets and armor. But in the recent weeks, even before Cecil’s desertion, there were too many new recruits to keep track of them all.

Until now, Kain had successfully ignored how these unknown soldiers seemed to move oddly in their armor, their gait too stiff, their stance too rigid. Seeing them all together, he could not deny how suddenly alien they all seemed to be.  Kain still had not met the troop he was to command; the idea of leading such a group sent an unexpected shudder of dread through him.

Then, Kain spotted a familiar twinkle of brightly colored armor in the noon day sun. He watched the Dragoons – his dragoons, Kain thought, feeling wounded again – make their way through the crowds of anonymous soldiers, going to the last dock and ship in the bay.

Kain recognized each of their armor, his heart filled with joy to see them still alive. Until he spotted three following up the rear – Albert’s green, dark and jewel tone; Finn’s bright red, like a cardinal awing (someone else must be wearing it, Kain reassured himself, knowing Finn was dead); then finally, Richard’s new armor, funereal black, as foreboding as an open grave.

Recognition slammed into Kain – Richard’s armor resembled both Cecil’s and the mysterious dark knight’s armor. At first, Kain thought the knight might have been Richard, and for a hopeful second, he was moved by the notion that his father would protect him at all costs. But as Kain pushed his way through the crowd and drew closer, he saw that Richard’s armor was too bulky for the deadly grace Kain had witnessed that bloody night. Furthermore, his father had no dark knight abilities and Kain was certain he had seen the figure use Darkness.

Kain was determined to reach them, to ask what had happened, how they had survived, who was in Finn’s armor, and why Richard was leading them now. But Kain saw now who walked behind the Dragoons, though cloaked heavily – Rubicante, his blue horns poking up the edge of the hood; and Scarmiglione, his dingy grave shroud dragging along his boots.

At their designated ship, the Dragoons began to board, each disappearing below deck. It seemed somehow sacrilegious that they would not stay on deck, faces upturned to the sky, breathing the wild winds as the ship ascended; up, where the air was cleanest and a dragoon could fill their chest with the wind itself; up, where a dragoon could see all around in every direction, defying the meaningless boundaries that each country claimed; up, where the Dragoons belonged, ruling the skies. Why would they hide away from such splendor?

“Tell Lugae he’ll have more ssspecimens ssooon,” Scarmiglione rasped, drawing Kain’s attention back to the dock, where Richard, Scarmiglione and Rubicant stood together. “If you can take Eblan.”

“We will,” Richard said, voice muffled within his dragon’s helm.

“How did you get Barbariccia to lend you her pet?” Scarmiglione asked, his hooded head inclined toward Rubicante, directing the question at him and specifically not Richard.

“She is too busy preening in her new tower to care about discarded playthings,” Rubicante replied, although there was no malice in the words, as if Rubicante truly spoke over a dumb animal who did not understand the conversation. Richard started to take a step forward, inhaling to speak, but Rubicante held up a hand. “Enough, waste your anger not on me or Scarmiglione, but channel it into defeating those who would thwart our Master’s plans.”

Richard halted, then took a step back. He did not speak, only nodded, then turned to board the boat.

“As for you,” Rubicante said, now turning to address Kain, who had stood still in the chaos of the moving crowd, easy to pick out simply because he did not rush toward a destination. “This is not your mission to worry about. Go to our Master, who waits for you. Be honored and humbled he chose you, above all, to witness his glory. Make sure you earn that privilege, there are some who think you undeserving,” Rubicante paused in his lecture, as if wondering if he should say more, but instead said, “And hurry — Lord Golbez is not known for his patience when he is expecting obedience.”

Like father, like son, Kain thought bitterly as he nodded and dashed off, blending back into the crowd, moving back up the docks. After a distance, Kain slowed, looking uncertainly over his shoulder, but no one followed.

Filled with trepidation, Kain approached the ship whose name was on his deployment papers. As Kain boarded the Scarlet Prelude, Cecil’s flagship for the Red Wings, Kain wondered if Golbez had planned this deliberately. And if so, did Golbez do it to fan the flames of Kain’s jealousy and resentment by dangling another of Cecil’s possessions in front of him; or because Golbez wanted to show Kain, and everyone else in Baron who watched, who was truly in charge.

Both, Golbez answered in Kain’s mind, sharply reminding Kain that none of his thoughts were truly private anymore. Kain looked up to see Golbez, clad in his dark armor, at the ship’s railing, on the side facing the docks – to be noticed and seen by the citizens and soldiers of Baron. As Kain came closer, crossing the deck to the sorcerer, Golbez spoke again, although out loud this time, his voice toneless, “Are you ready to seize the world?”

 “Yes,” Kain said. He didn’t have to answer with words spoken out loud but wanted to say them because the glory of the moment somehow demanded it, like it could somehow breathe his desire into the world, forcing it to be true. Kain felt a sudden surge of patriotism in what Baron had accomplished and would soon do; of pride in how the citizens of Fabul would tell stories about the day Baron darkened their skies; in curious desire, to finally know what sort of power all the gathered Crystals would bring. “Yes,” he repeated, this time breathless.

“Good,” Golbez said, and somehow, Kain sensed that Golbez smiled within his helmet, although Kain could not say how he would know, given Golbez’s always neutral tone.

By contrast, it had always been easy to tell when Cecil smiled, damn helmet or not, because Kain could tell in Cecil’s tone, somehow lighter. An image came unbidden to mind, small and circumspect, trying to stay hidden: Cecil pulling off his helmet, hair sweaty and plastered to his face and neck, but smiling in gratitude – he’d always thank Kain for grounding him with their sparring after dark knight training when Cecil had something to prove. Kain’s heart fluttered at the sight, and he knew then it would always—

“What’s that?” Golbez asked suddenly, breaking Kain’s concentration.

“Nothing,” Kain said too quickly, banishing the thought and longing somewhere deep down, hoping Golbez would not follow it. Instead, Kain brought forward another thought – Cecil, kneeling on the floor in front of the Wind Crystal, trying to protect it with his last sputtering breath, spraying bloody spit down his chin. Kain stood in front of him, lance drawn, ready to finally end their long-standing rivalry, to show the world who was better.

“You’ll get your wish soon enough,” Golbez said, apparently satisfied that this was what Kain was hiding, not probing deeper. “The white mage, too, was seen traveling with Cecil to Fabul. Will you prove yourself worthy and show them both?”

The airship’s engines roared to life, the deck vibrating under Kain’s feet. The ship began to rise, taking them up, away from Baron, into the sky, to Fabul and the glory of the battle there, to Rosa, who had thankfully survived, to Cecil…

Kain kept the thought small, a tiny seed of hope germinating, praying it would go unnoticed: with the three of them finally together again, perhaps they could pull Kain back from this madness and somehow purge the poison from his mind when Albert and the Dragoons could not.

“Kain?” Golbez said, drawing Kain’s attention back, away from the dangerous thought. “Come along, there are battle plans to review.”

“Yes Master,” Kain answered, not daring another stray disobedient thought.

The Red Wings sailed on, speeding along toward Fabul. The day bled into night, and eventually, Golbez dismissed Kain from the Captain’s cabin. Golbez had spent hours poring over maps of Fabul and detailed blueprints of Fabul Castle. Absently, Kain wondered how Golbez had come across such plans, but did not want to risk breaking Golbez’s concentration. Consequently, Kain said little, offering feedback only when Golbez directly asked.

Below deck was dark, with no lanterns to light the way; the risk of fire was too dangerous for an airship. With only slivers of moonlight through portholes to guide him, Kain fumbled his way into an empty hammock bed, preferring to swing in rhythm with the air’s currents than risk being tossed out of a bunk if the pilot took a sudden sharp turn.

Tonight’s passage through the sky was smooth, the gentle sway of the hammock lulling him to sleep in minutes.

Kain feared his dreams, where there seemed to be an endless stream of selfish memories and guilty desires, all on parade for Golbez to catalog for future use. Tonight, however, was blissfully dreamless, but still Kain did not rest easily. He feared his vulnerability in sleep, unable to control what might drift to the surface, tensely too aware of himself and what might be lurking nearby.

When still nothing happened and Kain had no sense of Golbez’s magic nearby, Kain reached timidly through the darkness around him, groping blindly for whatever connection linked Golbez’s mind to his. Golbez’s magic had driven deep grooves into Kain’s psyche, so it was not especially hard to trace them back.

Golbez dreamed, Kain realized, sensing the shape of it around Golbez’s mind. Could he watch the dream, Kain wondered, viewing as Golbez did to Kain? Could a door first opened from the outside, then be opened from the inside? Not sure of what he was doing, Kain followed the thread that linked him to Golbez, and peered inside.

--

The forest’s canopy was thick, and despite it being mid-day, only allowing thin slices of sunlight in between the curtains of green. The pattern of bright spots on the forest floor made Kain dizzy as he watched them pass by, too quickly, he was running – no, someone else was running.

A boy stumbled through the forest terrain with his hands clasped to his ears. He tripped over an exposed tree root, sending him sprawling in the dirt. With ears uncovered, the boy, and Kain, could hear the panicked, screaming cry of a child, somewhere nearby. The sound drowned out all other thoughts, crowding out the ability to think.

So pathetic, so low, crawling like a worm on its belly, look at you, came an insidious whisper, between the wailing cries, somehow more piercing than the baby’s high-pitched screams. You could be so much more, you could be…

“My name is Theodor,” the boy said as he staggered to his feet, covering his ears again. “My name is Theodor,” he repeated, this time his voice shaking and unsure. “My name is Theodor,” he said again, the last breaking off into a sob.

The crying, both the baby’s and Theodor’s, continued, on and on, driving needles into Kain’s mind. The dark voice, too, scared him, whispering degrading things to Theodor, things Kain tried not to hear but could not help. Was this Golbez who tormented this boy, Kain wondered, but then was not certain. Golbez was cruel and exacting, but there was a vicious delight in this darkness that Kain had never sensed from Golbez. He could not tell.

Unable to bear more, Kain fled the dream, abandoning the boy named Theodor to whatever torment awaited him.

Kain woke, gasping for air; he tasted the musty air of the lower deck, of too many bodies too close together, all struggling to sleep. There was an unusual brininess aftertaste riding faintly under everything, which Kain found odd at first, but then figured it was their proximity to the ocean below them.

Fighting his way out of the swinging hammock, Kain eventually got to his feet, balancing carefully through the ship’s gentle swaying. He needed the sky, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in the cramped quarters, his chest tight with strained breathing.

Kain made his way to the deck and felt immediate relief, finally able to take a full breath. As his eyes adjusted to the nighttime darkness, he saw a figure standing at the railing. They apparently needed the fresh air as much as he did, Kain thought, as they reached up and pulled off their helmet. The soldier was a woman, Kain realized, long hair streaming down her back and around her shoulders, looking sickly yellow in the dim light of the distant Moons. Her hair seemed to pour out like vapor, floating effortlessly in the wild wind around the ship.

Kain blinked hard and looked again, thinking himself still groggy from the strange dream, but the effect was only more intense – Kain was sure he saw a yellow-green cloud forming around the woman. Just as he was about to step forward and ask if she was all right, she collapsed, armor clattering nosily on the deck.

“What in the…” Kain started to say, but trailed off as the cloud started to reform, its upper half solidifying into a woman’s bare torso, then her head, the same long, wild yellow hair surrounding it. Her bottom half remained misty vapor, curling around almost like a tail.

Hearing Kain, she whirled around, and Kain saw the horror of her fully: her clawed hands, her snake-like hair and vapor body. She wept openly, tears streaming down her cheeks, her mouth open to show a terrible black void within. It was only then that Kain recognized her.

“Kain!” Rosa said, pointing emphatically at the open book before him. “Pay attention. This is a Leshy. They’re supposed to spawn from the heartache of women who have lost children. It’s said that if a bereaved mother cries into the wind, her sorrowful tears gather into a new monster.” Rosa paused the lecture, chewing on her lip as she thought. “Also called a Weeper, depending on the region.”

Kain squinted at the text, then frowned. “It says here they wander the cave systems north of Damcyan. When will I ever be there? Why do I need to know this?”

Rosa shrugged. “Who knows?” she said. “Life can take you strange places. Besides, it’s on the test.”

Kain reached for a weapon, only to belatedly realize he had left it below deck. Still, he had his fists; he could hold off the monster until the Red Wings crew heard his shouts for help and came to assist. He tried to remember more about what Rosa had said about the Leshy, what her weaknesses or abilities might be, but Kain could not conjure more of Rosa’s wisdom.

“Calm yourself,” Barbariccia whispered by Kain’s ear, breezy fingers tugging on his hair to draw him toward her, away from the ship’s railing and the Leshy floating beside it. “She is one of mine; I’ll take care of this.” She sounded surprisingly maternal, her tone soft and reassuring. It was effective, Kain’s muscles loosening and relaxing in response.

Barbariccia drifted from him to the Leshy. Kain could not hear their conversation, their words too quiet for the consuming winds around them. Finally, the Leshy withdrew, her form gone misty again, seeping back inside the discarded armor. The armor began to fill with shape, then stood awkwardly. After a few unsure steps, the Leshy-turned-soldier found her balance, thought her gait was stiff as she walked away, back below deck.

“How many?” Kain choked out the question, the realization having finally dawned on him. All those new soldiers, always in their armor, awkwardly shuffling about, never speaking much to others. Were they all like this, monsters disguised by magic? “How? How could this be possible? And why? Why would Odin use monsters to fight for Baron instead of our soldiers?”

“To avoid bloodshed,” Barbariccia said, as if the answer were simple. “To spare your fellow soldiers from the horrors of battle. Why send men off to die when so-called monsters can take their place? And most will fight better than your average unsure man.”

“You mean, they will fight better than men who believe this is unnecessary warfare,” Kain spat back. “They won’t question orders, as brave men might.”

“Oh, don’t get sappy and philosophical about this,” Barbariccia said with an exaggerated pout. “Master Golbez plans to repurpose the world. All creatures, monsters or not, will have a role. Isn’t that so much better than endlessly killing each other?”

Kain found he had no answer for that. The mention of Golbez’s name paralyzed him, suddenly realizing what he risked, standing here and questioning Barbariccia. He swallowed hard, then quietly asked, “How are they disguised? Is it your doing?”

“No,” Barbariccia said with an envious sigh. “Not my magic but Cagnazzo’s. As the Water Archfiend, he can change appearances, his own and others.”

“How?” Kain asked, incredulously. He had wondered why he had not yet met the fourth Archfiend, and now wondered if he already had.

“Think of it like water in a glass,” Barbariccia said, taking his hands in hers, palms up and fingers curled. “If you change the shape of the container, then water will change to match it.” She moved his hands together, forming a larger shape with his joined palms. “Cagnazzo is much the same. If you pour yourself into someone, you will take their shape. So Cagnazzo borrows others’ shapes, for himself and our loyal ‘monsters’, as you call them. So, they can help carry out our Master’s plan.” She dropped his hands and looked up at him, yellow eyes surprisingly serious. “Do you understand? Isn’t it better this way?”

“What happens to the people?” Kain asked. “Whose bodies are borrowed? Do they live when their parasites are done?”

Barbariccia shrugged, indifferent. “I do not know,” she said, but meant I do not care with her tone. “You would have to ask Cagnazzo.”

Kain hesitated, unsure if he wanted to ask his next question. But his curiosity was too powerful, drawing him in. “Who is Cagnazzo?” he finally asked, holding his breath for her answer.

Barbariccia looked aside, frowning thoughtfully. Then, she shook her head.  “If neither Cagnazzo nor Master Golbez has told you yet, I will not risk defying them. Cagnazzo will reveal himself to you, in due time.”

“It seems unfair that you know so many of my secrets and I know none of yours,” Kain said, hating that he sounded like a sulking child, but unable to help himself. “You cannot tell me this one thing?”

“Ah.” Barbariccia smiled, fangs flashing in the moonlight. “But that is not my secret to tell. I hear all that is confessed to the wind, but that does not make it is mine to share. Ask something else.”

Kain didn’t hesitate. “Is Barbariccia your real name? You call yourself a wind goddess, but what is your mortal name?”

Barbariccia looked surprised – not feigned or exaggerated, but genuine. “It does not matter,” she said, sounding small.

“It does matter,” Kain replied.

“A name is a powerful thing,” Barbariccia said, emotion forgotten. “What you ask is too costly to be bought with your petty mortal secrets.” The winds picked up around them, and she seemed taller, as if she drew in power and strength into herself with each inhale from their powerful gusts. “Bring me the Wind Crystal from Fabul, and I will grant you this boon.” Her feet weren’t on the ground anymore, Kain realized, as she leaned down, hair swirling around them both, and kissed him. It was a surprisingly chaste kiss, a sort of prayer whispered into his mouth, a goddess’s blessing to the dutiful hero before his quest.

Barbariccia broke it quickly. “Bring the Wind Crystal to the Tower of Zot,” she sighed her command beside his ear in a tickling breeze. In the next breath, she was gone in a strong and wild gust of wind that sent Kain stumbling.

“I will,” Kain said, breathless, but knowing she heard him anyway.

Kain did not sleep, standing at the ship’s railing, watching the horizon. Eventually, dawn broke out across the world, spilling golden light across the land below. To the north, Fabul Castle was visible, beyond the wide plains that sat between its three surrounding forests.

Kain thought of the battle to come, of the Wind Crystal in his grasp, of the glory of victory, and especially, of seeing Cecil and Rosa again, whatever that might mean.

Chapter Text

Outside of Fabul Castle, Kain watched the airships flying overhead, just having unleashed their small bombs. These were less sophisticated than Engineering’s most recent version that had devastated Damcyan, designed only to drive all on the castle grounds indoors, so the exterior could be breached without interference.

In the glory days of the Dragoons, it was dragons that flew through the sky, dropping their riders like compact bombs. The dragoons would land inside the castle walls and fight their way to the gates, opening them for the waiting soldiers outside. A single dragoon could do what a whole troop of foot soldiers could not, no matter how high a castle’s walls might be.

Kain looked around at the assembled soldiers around him and wondered how many were true men and who was a monster in disguise. Kain recognized only a few, mostly the captains who led their troops. Had they been similarly corrupted as Kain, or were they here willingly, wanting to indulge in this type of greedy warfare?

“Make no mistake,” Golbez said, reminding Kain again of his omnipresence. “You are here because you want to be.” He stood beside Kain, no weapon drawn but none needed, watching as the vanguard approached the castle gates. Several soldiers held a long battering ram on their shoulders, ready for use. “Why lie to yourself? You accept your place because this is where you belong. You want the glory of warfare. And you shall get it, that much I can promise.”

The worst part of what Golbez said was always the truth of it; of how Golbez could reach into Kain’s dark parts and recognize them for what they were, giving them a name and making Kain too aware of them. Golbez being right made it so much harder to hear, rather than easier.

Kain wanted to be here, to seize the Wind Crystal and all of its blessings.

Kain said nothing, but did not have to, knowing that Golbez would sense the acquiescence.

In silence, they watched together as the castle gates fell easily, splintering around the battering ram. Once breached, Baron soldiers began pouring in, flooding Fabul Castle. As they ran forward, Kain saw some of them give up the pretense of disguise, shedding their human illusions. Dozens of Imps, Sahagins, Gargoyles and Leshys trampled through the broken gates, mixed in evenly with the Red Wings marines.

Did Odin no longer care about the pride of Baron’s military? The survivors of the siege would surely tell of the monsters working with Baron – unless, Kain reasoned, it was expected that there be no survivors.

Golbez chuckled darkly, answering Kain’s thought without a word. “Go,” Golbez said with a gesture. “Bring me the Wind Crystal.”

Kain nodded, then strode forward to join the monsters. He tried not to dwell on it, to ponder the deeper implications of allowing himself to fight alongside these lesser creatures. What would his father think, Kain wondered, to see the Dragoons lowered to these shameful depths? Was Richard always the better Dragoon Commander, and always would be?

Inside the castle, there was little resistance. Small groups of Fabulian soldiers and monks would appear, determined to stop or at least slow the attackers, but they fell easily under the teeth and claws of the monster army.

If Kain thought himself above the slaughter, he was wrong; he struck down an attacking monk, lance piercing through the monk’s unarmored chest easily. Kain yanked his lance free, ignoring the monk’s gargling moans. As Kain walked away, leaving the monk behind to bleed out, he heard the monk’s inarticulate pleading for help but Kain did not dare look back.

Fabul Castle’s design was unlike most, housing their thriving marketplace inside the castle. Kain passed by shops, an inn, a pub, and a dozen other establishments he would have expected to find in a village square. He hoped they had evacuated all the civilians, and as soon as he had that thought, he heard a woman’s cry of fear and panic.

Kain turned the corner in time to see a Gargoyle pouncing on a small group of two: a woman, holding her arm, the sleeve red with blood, and a man, who had stepped in front of the woman to meet the Gargoyle’s next attack. The Gargoyle’s talons sunk deep into the man’s chest and arms as the Gargoyle crashed into him, both tumbling back into the woman behind them, now shouting in terror while the Gargoyle growled.

Kain sprinted forward, determined to stop this if he could. As he approached, he could only see the Gargoyle, its massive wings outstretched, talons flashing as it lunged forward, and teeth bared when it leaned back and howled in delight.

Kain thrust his lance gracelessly at the Gargoyle’s back, more to draw its attention than to injure it. Hissing in outrage, the gargoyle lifted its head, then turned to face Kain, claws swiping.

Kain narrowly missed its razor talons, dancing backwards as the Gargoyle lunged for him. “Get back!” Kain commanded, drawing his lance up to protect himself. “Rejoin the battle!”

The Gargoyle did not answer him with words – Kain suspected it could not speak in a common tongue in its natural form – but with another swipe of its claws. This time, the blow caught Kain by the middle, the force of it sending him sprawling to the ground. Kain heard the high-pitched whine of something sharp on metal and was glad of his heavy armor.

As Kain rolled to his back, a new weight was suddenly on his chest, pinning him down. The Gargoyle landed on him, claws scraping against his armor, searching for weak points. Kain struggled to draw in full breath, the lack of oxygen making him dizzy.

The Gargoyle shook Kain, rattling his skull inside his helmet, making his dizziness worse. So, with his head swimming, Kain watched as the Gargoyle suddenly froze, as if struck, and its grip on Kain loosened. Able to breathe again, Kain sucked in air in grateful gasps, unaware that the stunned Gargoyle had begun bleeding from its mouth and nose. It wasn’t until blood splattered down on Kain’s helmet that he became aware of it; some of it hitting his exposed chin, filling his mouth with a metallic taste.

Before Kain could try pushing the Gargoyle away, something knocked the Gargoyle off. Kain heard one last howl that cut abruptly short. Kain sat up, unsure if his savior was a Baron soldier, a Fabulian monk, or another monster – he wasn’t even sure which he hoped it would be.

Instead, it was the dark knight from that terrible night at Highwind Manor, holding a dripping sword, the Gargoyle dead at their feet. At least, it was someone dressed in the same armor – his mother’s armor, Kain reminded himself bitterly. He scrambled to his feet, and pointed in accusation. “Who are you?!” he demanded.

“No time,” the dark knight rasped, their voice too quiet to determine gender. “Fetch the Wind Crystal,” it told him, echoing Golbez’s command of earlier.

“But…” Kain turned around, reorienting himself. “Those people need to hide.”

“Too late,” advised the dark knight, just as Kain saw them, where the Gargoyle had left them. Instead of two cowering people, Kain now saw the gory mess of their torn bodies, limbs ripped from sockets, heads from necks, bodies strewn in pieces on the floor.

Kain leaned down, his hands braced on his knees, and promptly vomited.

“Go,” urged the dark knight. “Please,” they added, the plea softening their guttural voice. “And stay safe.”

Kain looked up from his puddle of vomit, to ask again who this dark knight was, but they had disappeared, melting away somewhere into the shadows of the castle halls. The smell of musty soil filled the air.

It was a mystery Kain would have to ponder later. The command, Fetch the Wind Crystal, pressed at all the corners of his mind, giving room for no other thoughts.

With his throat burning and nose stinging, Kain ran, away from the massacre, toward the inner castle. If he could get successfully take the Wind Crystal and bring it to Golbez, Kain desperately reasoned, maybe it would bring a quick end to this assault, and more lives might be spared. Baron’s might seemed suddenly less impressive.

Further in, Kain spotted more signs of resistance, evidenced by the slain monsters left behind. Someone strong was leading the final line of defense, Kain guessed, and followed the macabre trail. He saw one body, a Red Wings marine, mouth and nose bloody, eyes still open in his last moments of panic. Kain hurried past the sight, trying to deny its familiarity, but the image followed him, pressed in the backs of his eyelids when he tried closing his eyes.

Kain hurried along, nearly sprinting. The trail of death led him deeper into the castle, where no one stopped him, the fighting already over before Kain could get there. As he came up a set of grand stairs, Kain could hear the distant sounds of battle. Before he could reach the top, he heard several cries of pain, before the sound was abruptly cut off.

As Kain entered the next floor, he saw it was the throne room, half a dozen Red Wings marines’ bodies strewn across the room; several shredded through the throat, spinal columns exposed through the ripped apart skin and muscles, while others had blood streaming down their mouth and nose, looking pale and bloated, like they had drowned – but all were dead, despite their still twitching bodies. Whoever defended Fabul meant to fight with everything they had.

Kain side-stepped the gruesome scene, heading up the next set of stairs. There seemed to be a sense of purpose in the air now, something beckoning him closer, urging him forward. As he climbed higher, his breath came harder, echoing in his ears, a mix of Barbariccia’s seductive whispers of freedom and Golbez’s taunting offers of power.

Deep down, Kain knew he would find Cecil in the Crystal Shrine, despite how he denied recognizing Darkness’s mark upon the bodies. Still, the sight of Cecil within, his black armor glinting dark in the reflective shine of the Crystal behind him, made Kain’s heart skip a beat.

No, Kain told himself, shoving aside any thoughts of affection, brotherly or otherwise. This moment was fated, he knew now, that the only way for Kain to ever move forward was to eliminate Cecil and finally be better. He would have the Wind Crystal and with it, both Barbariccia’s and Golbez’s approval – perhaps even his father’s, as they used the Crystals to refashion the world as it should be. He would have Rosa, with Cecil no longer distracting both of them. Kain might finally have Odin’s favor, too, achieving as a dragoon what Cecil couldn’t as a dark knight, finally proving Odin wrong.

He hated Cecil, Kain realized, the intensity of the emotion nearly overwhelming him. But something was softly assuring him in the back of his mind, telling him to grasp this feeling, to use it, that it would make him more powerful than anything else. Everyone in his life would finally choose him first, Kain reasoned, once Cecil was finally gone.

“It's been some time, Cecil,” Kain said, striding confidently into the Crystal Shrine.

“Kain!” Cecil said, lifting his helm’s visor, his face shining with joy and relief. “You're alive!” Cecil cried out as he ran toward Kain.

“I am,” Kain said, his tone even and neutral, unmoved by Cecil’s emotion.

“You'll fight, then?” Cecil asked, breathless with hope.

“Of course. That's the very reason I've come,” Kain answered. “But, Cecil...” Kain pulled his lance free, metal clicking as it left the sheath, and pointed it at Cecil. “The one I'll fight is you!”

“Kain!?” Cecil stepped back, nearly stumbling, eyes wide with disbelief.

“A duel, Cecil!” Kain said, as he bent his knees slightly, sinking into a battle-ready stance.

“What do you mean?” Cecil asked the question in earnest, not yet comprehending that they now stood on opposite sides of the battlefield, proving a younger, naïve Cecil wrong.

“Draw your blade!” Kain shouted, now angry at Cecil’s persisting unwillingness to understand. It had been so easy for Kain to discard his love for hate, why wouldn’t Cecil do the same and make this easier for both of them?

“Why, Kain!?” Cecil yelled back, his shield now up, his hand clasping the hilt of his sword, still sheathed at his shoulder, but prepared to draw it.

Why? It was too hard of a question for Kain to answer even to himself. Why are you doing this? a small part of himself asked, distant and buried, buried deep beneath the newly exposed layers of pride, envy, and hate. Is this how you really want to win?

 “I will not answer your questions!” Kain said tersely to both Cecil and his mind, then flexed his legs and Jumped. It was not high, given the ceiling of the room, but it was enough to gain momentum on the way back down. Kain crashed into Cecil, lance striking at his legs, sending Cecil sprawling to the ground as Kain easily rolled to his feet.

“What's come over you?” Cecil croaked out as he pushed himself up off the floor, armor rattling as he moved.

What’s come over you? Kain’s mind repeated the question, its echo bouncing infinitely around in his skull, desperately seeking an answer.

“Be silent!” Kain demanded, trying to drive away the question and its implications for his broken mind. This is me, he told himself. I want to do this. I need to do this.

With his lance drawn, Kain attacked, trying to drown out all the doubts that the whispered questions brought forward. Cecil, still dazed, managed to counter, meeting Kain’s swinging lance with his shield. The force of the blow sent Cecil staggering back.

Cecil looked up at Kain, wide-eyed, mouth hanging open in shock – this was no boyhood brawl, pulling blows back at the last second, minimizing potential damage. Kain had struck to hurt, perhaps even kill. The realization darkened Cecil’s eyes as he lowered his helmet’s visor, shielding his face and expression now. He unsheathed his sword, metal hissing in the deathly silence of the Crystal Shrine, ready to meet Kain now.

Kain charged forward, lance pointed; this time, Cecil’s sword caught it, turning the blow harmlessly aside. Kain and Cecil parted, then connected again, weapons colliding, and fought on. Kain knew Cecil’s armor well, and his lance found the weak spots easily, drawing blood from Cecil’s exposed joints -- his shoulder, then knee, then elbow.

Cecil could fight Kain effectively and had a good chance of winning, but Cecil’s reluctance to strike back made the fight one-sided. There was no real effort in Cecil’s attacks, no power behind his swings, and Kain deflected them without effort. He Jumped clear from Cecil’s reach more than once, then came back down, striking with a blow Cecil couldn’t easily counter.

On Kain’s last Jump, Cecil crashed to the ground. He tried to rise, but the weight of his effort sent him sprawling back down, face down. He managed to push up to his elbows, holding himself up off the ground, as Kain approached.

“This is the end, Cecil.” Kain said, now towering over Cecil. Would it be? he wondered, unsure if even Cecil’s death would end his envy. Would he ever stop wanting the things that Cecil had, even if he finally had them?

“Kain... Even you now?” Cecil asked, somehow still sounding incredulous, despite how he bled.

How could Cecil believe in him so much, Kain wondered, a fresh wave of guilt rolling over him. Why hadn’t Cecil expected this? How could he dismiss their rivalry as boyhood bravado gone too far instead of the deadly competition it had become? Hadn’t all their fighting always been leading to this very moment?

Be better than him, urged the darkness in his mind, offering Kain what he had wanted since first meeting Cecil, when Rosa couldn’t stop staring at the strange new boy intruding on their lives. Wouldn’t it be better if they could go back to that time, when it was just Rosa and Kain?

“Let me ease your suffering!” Kain drew his lance up, aiming it for Cecil’s head. It was easy, to give in to the dark fantasy of what life would look like without Cecil. It would end the endless conflict of feelings, finally sparing Kain the torment of what if? Loving Cecil required courage Kain could not admit he lacked; it was remarkably easier to hate Cecil.

“You'll do nothing!” the monk shouted from somewhere behind them. Kain turned in time to deflect an incoming Kick that would have otherwise sent him crashing to the ground. The monk tumbled back and landed neatly on his feet, then readied himself for another charge. Behind him, the bard pulled out his harp, getting ready to play.

Kain turned back to Cecil, lance raised again, knowing he could strike before the other two could reach him. Kain had to do it quickly, before something happened and he changed his mind, afraid of what Golbez might do if Kain failed.

“Stop!” spoke a too familiar voice. He hoped he had imagined the voice, like so many others that filled his head now, but he turned to see Rosa, standing in the dazzling green light of the Wind Crystal. Behind her was the summoner girl, her eyes wide with horror – Kain would later wonder if it was the sight of him that frightened her so.

“Rosa!” Kain exclaimed, both relieved and mortified to see her here.

“Kain!” Rosa cried, looking around at the scene before her, with Cecil wounded, the others preparing to fight. “Tell me you've not turned traitor?” she asked, more melancholy than accusative, and that somehow made her judgment worse.

Kain lowered his lance, letting its tip hit the floor with a clatter. He felt paralyzed by the depth of her look, knowing she recognized the wrongness in him. A hidden part of himself wondered if Rosa could save him where Albert could not. Rosa knew him better than anyone else, surely she would know what needed to be mended?

 Kain’s mind lurched, mired in confusion at his own thoughts. Dizzied, he doubled over, head in his hands. “Urgh...Don't...look at me!” he choked out. He was suddenly ten years old again, Rosa scolding him for picking a fight with the new kid and feeling the same wave of dread and shame at her disappointment. Kain would never meet Rosa’s lofty expectations, only Cecil could, damn him—

“Kain!” A deep voice boomed, interrupting Kain’s wild stream of conflicting thoughts. Golbez seized his mind, clamping down tight, chasing off any thoughts of asking Rosa for help.

A figure in black and gold armor slowly emerged from the shadows around the door, armor rattling ominously with each step.  “Why do you now hesitate?” Golbez asked, already knowing the answer to the question but asking it anyway, confirming the depth of Kain’s betrayal to all who watched.

“Golbez!” Cecil named Golbez, suddenly recognizing him. “You're him - the usurper!”

Golbez continued his slow, deliberate approach. Only Kain noticed Golbez’s hands by his sides, curled into tight fists with magic wreathed through his fingers, casting without the need to speak arcane words, only think them.

“So, you are Cecil,” Golbez said as he stopped, horned helmet turned to the side to look at Cecil. “Allow me to give you something - a gift to remember our meeting by.” Golbez said, raising his hands; purple lightning crackled in his palms, then jumped to Cecil, who had started to stand in defiance. The force of it threw Cecil to the ground again. At first, he didn’t move, but then Kain heard Cecil’s gasping breaths and knew Cecil still lived.

“Cecil!” the bard cried out.

“Let me through,” the monk demanded, pushing past Kain, who was too dumbfounded to react, stunned into inaction.

Golbez pivoted on his foot, meeting Yang with the same open palms. A purple bolt of branching lightning struck first the monk, then leapt to the bard behind him, flinging them both carelessly aside. Like Cecil, they did not immediately stir, though Kain could hear their labored breathing.

“I did not come to treat with worms,” Golbez said, looking aside from them, satisfied.  “Enough of this foolishness.” Golbez’s gaze was empty and black, yet Kain knew Golbez looked at him. “Bring me the Crystal,” Golbez said, both out loud and into Kain’s mind, sinking deep barbs into Kain’s thoughts.

“M'lord,” Kain replied automatically, desperate to prove his obedience, hoping Golbez would relax his hold. Kain’s body moved in a slow, deliberate walk past Cecil and Rosa, like Kain did not care. It was easier not to think, to allow the command in his mind to take over, to not be present as his best friends witnessed his betrayal.

Kain started up the steps of the Crystal dais, then heard light footsteps behind him.

“Don't do it, Kain!” Rosa called out from behind him.

The sound of Rosa’s pleading voice was like a punch to Kain’s stomach; it stole the breath from his lungs, making him audibly gasp. He turned halfway to her, longing to ask her for help but the words were trapped in his throat. Kain thought them anyway: Please, help me.

“Rosa, let it be!” Cecil called out to her, trying to get up from the floor but lacking the strength to lift himself in his heavy armor.

“Oh, you care for this one, do you?” Golbez asked as he strode toward Rosa, looming over her, assessing her with his helmet’s empty eyes. He swung his arm wide over Rosa’s head, his cape sweeping over her, obscuring her from view. “Then let me take her along as well, to hold in trust until we are graced with the chance to meet again,” Golbez continued, tonelessly; when his arm dropped, Rosa was gone. Golbez looked up to Kain. “Come, Kain.” Golbez commanded, then turned to leave.

Kain looked back at the Wind Crystal, its brilliant light shining brightly in the reflective panels of the walls. He grabbed it, and the rightness of it all thrummed through him, the Crystal’s power buzzing pleasantly under his arm.

“It would seem your life is spared... for now,” Kain remarked as he passed Cecil, who was still unable to rise, despite all that had happened. Kain felt a pang of guilt – how badly had he hurt Cecil?

“Kain, wait!” Cecil called out.

Golbez’s control was a fishhook in Kain’s mind. It tugged, piercing deeper, an abrupt reminder of its existence. You are mine, Golbez had told him; it was still true.

Without looking back, Kain kept walking.

Chapter Text

Once the Wind Crystal was secure, Golbez called a retreat. The monsters pulled back from Fabul Castle, some returning to the landing airships, but most disappearing into the countryside to wreak further havoc. The Siege of Fabul would go down in history books as a brief, but bloody battle with terrible losses, but nothing compared to devastation of Damcyan, and later, Eblan. In the retrospect of history, Fabul considered itself fortunate to come out with their royal family and castle still intact.

Back on the deck of the Scarlet Prelude, Kain reluctantly handed the Crystal to Golbez, watching with envy as Golbez took the Crystal to the captain’s cabin, to protect it with whatever enchantments he had. Kain didn’t know what he’d do with the Crystal if he possessed it but could not help but fantasize what it could do.

They flew, not southwest toward Baron, but directly south, over the myriad of tiny islands that trailed down all the way to another continent, where Mount Ordeals dwelled. Kain wondered if that was a coincidence but was too afraid to ask.

Leaning against the ship’s railing, Kain watched the westward sky, filled with a desperate longing to be home. And not just physically present in Baron, but back to when it had been best for Kain, when nothing could separate him from Cecil and Rosa. Now, a war kept him from Cecil. And as for Rosa…

Rosa, like the Crystal, was being held in the captain’s cabin. Kain did not know if Golbez had bound her with chains or magic, or both. Kain had himself convinced he did not care and that his lack of interest was better for her in the long run, to persuade Golbez she was unimportant, that she could not be used to further manipulate Kain, only Cecil. Both of them knew Kain lied, but Golbez allowed Kain the mercy of pretending to believe it – for now.

Standing in the wild winds, Kain tried to let it carry his worry and anxiety away. But even after several cleansing breaths of fresh sea air, Kain could not shake the looming sense of dread as they flew closer to whatever their destination was.

Bring the Wind Crystal to the Tower of Zot, Barbariccia had commanded him – but where was that?

As if the mere thought of Barbariccia could summon her, she was beside him, her breath sighing in his ear. “You’ve returned triumphant. And you brought the Wind Crystal,” she said, in a mix of awe and gratitude.

With Barbariccia came the memory of monsters cutting through Fabul, blood and viscera on the stone floors – would violence always precede Kain in life? Whatever peace he tried to seek out in the sky was forgotten.

“It might have cost me everything,” Kain said, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. He made no move to embrace her or push her away but remained still. “Tell me it’s worth it.”

“It’s worth it,” Barbariccia said, her voice light with amusement, despite Kain’s seriousness. “Do you need me to remind you of all that’s been promised?” she asked as she tugged at his hair in a teasing gesture, pulling it free from its binding. The wind picked up a few blond strands, playfully whipping them back into his face. “Why hesitate when you’re so close to getting everything you want?’

“Don’t,” Kain said, his jaw clenched, as he brushed his hair out of his face. “This is more than dragons and the throne of Baron.” He thought of Rosa, alone with Golbez, and knew the shape of his own cowardice, unable to help but feel relieved it was her and not him. “People I care about are getting hurt.”

“The girl?” Barbariccia asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “You still care?”

“Do I still care?!” Kain roared the question back at her, surprising both with his sudden outrage. “How could I not?! Or are you such a monster that you’ve never had loved ones before? Only those you use to get what you want?”

Barbariccia bared her pointed teeth, the wind hissing around them. “Mind your tongue, Dragoon. You stand before goddess descended from the sky and you would do well to remember it.”

“You’re a monster,” Kain said, the words sharp with accusation. “Only a monster could have assembled such a savage and cruel army. You are not an esteemed goddess from the heavens but a lowly demon from hell.” Kain’s anger and fear (at himself) boiled within him, desperate for a release and having no other target but Barbariccia. “You—"

Kain was abruptly swept off his feet as a tunneling whirlwind threw him against the railing. Kain scrambled against the force, gripping the railing tightly, trying to push himself back, but even in his heavy armor, the wind kept forcing him forward, until he tumbled up and over the railing. Arms swinging wildly, he tried to grab the side of the ship, but his fingers swiped through open air as he fell. Before Kain could draw the breath to yell, something grabbed his wrist and held him in place, his body dangling awkwardly mid-air.

“Tell me, Kain Highwind,” Barbariccia’s voice boomed like thunder. In an eerie echo of Kain’s childhood nightmare, he saw her above him, her long hair swirling around her face, her teeth showing now in a fierce grin. “If I drop you now, who would you pray to for help? Would you beg me with the last screaming breath to save you?”

Kain looked down and saw the sparkling ocean breath him. Even if the ship was at low enough altitude for Kain to survive the fall, with no land nearby, he’d eventually drown. Would it be so bad? a hidden part of him wondered, longing for an end to the ongoing torment he endured while chained to Golbez.

“Answer me!” Barbariccia demanded, shaking Kain, like a worm on a fishing line. Kain swung dangerously, his legs kicking for control.

“Put him back,” a new, raspy voice demanded.

Barbariccia looked over her shoulder and scowled, although the whirlwind of her hair settled back on her shoulders, and the wild winds that tore at Kain’s dangling body calmed to a slight breeze. But she did not pull Kain up. “I do not take orders from you,” Barbariccia spat, full of contempt. “And certainly not from Scarmiglione, either. This doesn’t concern you or your Master.”

“It’s not Scarmiglione’s wrath you need to worry about,” the mysterious voice continued; there was a hint of a mockery in the hoarse words. “But what will Lord Golbez do if you kill his champion?”

Barbariccia growled, a low rumble in her throat. Still, it was enough to prompt her to pull Kain up and over the ship’s railing. The strength of her surprised him, and swinging with momentum, she threw him on the deck. Kain hit the deck, his whole body rattling inside his armor as he landed hard on his stomach and chest. With a groan, Kain pushed himself up.

Kain looked up in time to see Barbariccia disappear in a swirl of spinning hair. Beside where she was, the dark knight, stood still and stiff, watching Kain from the empty gaze of their helmet.

“Who are you?” Kain asked as he got to his feet, still dazed. “Why are you following me?”

“Do you really not know?” the dark knight asked, a deep sadness echoing in the question. “Or are you pretending you don’t know, because you are too horrified by the idea?”

“Who are you?” Kain repeated, feeling a new panic squeezing his chest. “I am tired of the games, of people not telling me directly what’s going, of all the secrecy around me.” He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the dark knight’s words, trying to pretend they weren’t right.

Unwillingly, Kain remembered – Scarmiglione, reeking of damp earth and decay; Elena’s open grave and her missing armor and sword; Jon’s terrified cries about the risen dead; the dark knight appearing, protecting Kain, saving him from harm.

“No,” Kain said, shaking his head. “You’re not her.”

“I’m sorry,” the dark knight said, voice choking.

“Elena?” Kain said, finally naming her. Then, in a smaller voice, “Mother?”

Reluctantly, the dark knight lifted her helm’s visor, revealing her face. While it was mottled with green and gray, and decay had sunken her cheeks, Elena looked remarkably like how Kain had seen her in his strange dreams, though her dark eyes seemed even darker, a terrible void contained within them.

Throughout his life, Elena had been a mysterious non-entity. Kain had never entertained a fantasy about her being alive, as he had with Richard, simply because he had never known her and didn’t know what to miss. And despite the dreams she had shared with him on Mount Ordeals and at her grave, she was still a stranger. What sort of emotion should he be feeling, Kain wondered. Anger, at her selfishness, in choosing to indulge in her Dark Knight power and her exposing Kain to it? Joy, at their unexpected reunion? Or profound sadness and horror at what she’d become under Scarmiglione’s influence?

Feeling too many things at once, Kain said nothing, having no words.

Elena lowered her visor, hiding her face again, but not before Kain saw the deep disappointment souring her still beautiful features. She turned away from him, to leave him alone on the deck, but then hesitated. Looking over her shoulder at him, she said, “Be cautious around Barbariccia. She’s a cruel, manipulative creature, who would have no scruples about using your feelings for others against you. She will whisper honey one moment, then spew poison the next.”

Kain thought of Richard, then, and how it must feel for Elena to watch her husband under the thumb of another. Barbariccia’s pet, the other Fiends had boldly said in front of Kain, what would they say in front of Elena? “My father and Barbariccia, does that bother you?” He wondered if his insatiable envy was an inheritance.

“Your father…” Elena repeated absently. She remembered herself quickly, continuing, “Richard’s choice of company does not concern me anymore. Our marriage vows became irrelevant years ago.” Then added, “Til death do us part, after all.”

“What happened between you two?” Kain asked.

Elena hesitated, then spoke quietly, her hoarse voice barely a whisper. “Richard always wanted the best. To be the most elite dragoon with the highest rank, to eat the best cut of meat, to have the best view riding in a carriage, and to have the best woman in the room. For a while…” Elena paused, shaking her head. When she continued, there was a sad nostalgia in her words, “… that woman was me. But now?” Elena shrugged, as if indifferent, her armor rattling with the gesture. “Now it may be Barbariccia, if you could even call her a woman. She has promised him things I never could.” She looked aside, her shoulders now deflating. “I wish them joy of each other,” she finished, sounding hollow.

Kain frowned, about to ask more, but a sudden needle point of pain poked behind his eyes. Wincing, his hand at his head, he stumbled, a new command echoing within his head, Come to me…

“Go,” Elena said, not approaching to offer comfort, as a mother might, but instead looking around, as if she expected someone. “Do not delay answering Lord Golbez.”

“How do you know?” Kain asked through gritted teeth. “Can you sense him, in my mind?” The question felt dangerous to even ask; Kain expected retaliatory pain and was surprised when nothing happened. Did Golbez listen for her answer, or was he too preoccupied with Rosa and the Crystal to be lurking?

“I know the darkness well,” Elena replied solemnly. “It doesn’t matter what blocks the sun to cast its shadow, only that you cannot see the light anymore.” She nodded toward the captain’s cabin. “Go. Lord Golbez is not an easy master; you should not risk his impatience.”

Kain started to go, then hesitated, turning back to her. “Can we… talk more?”

Elena shook her head. “Do not seek me out. It will only bring unwanted attention. But know this…” she paused, and Kain suspected she smiled behind her helmet. “As long as I’m standing, I will always protect you.”

Kain wasn’t sure what to say; there were no adequate words, too overwhelmed by a strange sense of gratitude. Elena didn’t give him time to reply, but instead disappeared to the other side of the ship, probably to go below deck.

Kain looked to the captain’s cabin with an increasing sense of dread, unsure of what terrible scene he’d find inside. He had a sudden urge to run and jump over the ship’s railing into the open sky, to put Barbariccia’s theory to test. Who would he scream for?

Shuddering, Kain pushed away the thought, and hurried toward the cabin.

Kain wasn’t sure what to expect when he entered Cecil’s captain’s cabin, but it was not the calm scene before him: Rosa, seated at Cecil’s desk, not bound or chained, but sitting with her hands in her lap. When she saw Kain, there was the briefest flash of hope in her eyes, but it quickly died. Somehow, that was worse than her having no faith at all – what could she sense from him that damned him so?

“Go on and try,” Golbez said; he stood to the side, his arms crossed, watching both Rosa and Kain. Still wearing his helmet, but Kain could not tell to whom he spoke.

Rosa frowned, shaking her head mutely, still watching Kain with her assessing gaze.

“Please, indulge me,” Golbez said, his deep voice surprisingly gentle. “I won’t stop you if you succeed.”

Rosa’s brow furrowed, a sign of concentration that started back in their childhood, when she first took up archery. Kain saw her hands in her lap and realized they were now moving, tracing arcane circles in the air, her lips moving soundlessly.

Before Kain could call out a word of warning, Rosa jumped from the chair and launched herself at him, mouth open in a wordless cry. She grabbed him by the shoulders, and the momentum of her body sent Kain stumbling back as he caught her.

Rosa’s mouth was still moving, now frantic, but nothing came out. She looked up at Kain, then around the cabin, her shoulders deflating. She disentangled herself from him, taking a few steps back. She looked at Golbez, defeat written all over her face.

“Good,” Golbez said, his voice neutral. “You are more powerful than I expected from a white mage, but not nearly enough to counter me.”

Rosa said nothing, sinking back into the chair, looking at her hands, her expression now empty and blank.

“What’s wrong?” Kain asked before he could help himself, both to Rosa and Golbez.

“A Silence spell.” It was Golbez who answered. “Your friend is a resourceful little thing, and nearly Teleported away.” Golbez sounded amused, like it was a private joke between them. “Do you know what stopped her?”

Kain looked between the two: Rosa unmoving, still staring at her hands; Golbez tall and still, though Kain knew he smiled within his helmet. “What?” Kain asked, prompting, as he knew Golbez wanted.

“You,” Golbez said, and this time laughed, a short, dark chuckle. “She tried to escape to find and rescue you.”

Rosa closed her eyes, as if wincing, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

“We will be arriving soon,” Golbez remarked as he passed Kain, armor rattling ominously as he moved. “Come, Kain.”

Kain heard the command for what it was. “Yes, Master,” he replied, the words in his mouth without thought.

Rosa looked up, eyes wide with horror, looking more scared than she ever had before.

Kain hurried out the door, away from everything she couldn’t say with words, and from the tears that now spilled and the mute sobs that followed.

Finally, as the Scarlet Prelude emerged from the thick clouds that surrounded it, the Tower of Zot loomed large over all, stretching impossibly high toward the sky, so much that Kain could not spot its top. It looked black against the white clouds, but as they landing on an outcropping of stone that looked designed for the purpose (how old was Zot? Airships had taken to the skies only a generation prior), Kain saw it was a dark gray stone.

 Kain expected Rosa to be restrained as they deboarded, but she walked freely behind Golbez, her head lowered, looking uncharacteristically meek.

Kain knew this strategy – it was a tactic Rosa had learned in their childhood and used to great success. They’d be playing a town-wide game of man hunt, or capture the flag, or chase, and Rosa would be taken by the other team with the assumption that Kain and Cecil would bargain for her release. She’d play the docile prisoner and damsel in distress, compliant and unprotesting, until an opportunity arose for her to escape, always surprising her captors when she suddenly slipped away.

Kain watched her carefully, wondering if she did that now – but then the thought seemed dangerous. No, Kain told himself, Rosa was not that clever, she just knew that she had nowhere to run. Kain kept this thought at the forefront of his mind, mindful of Golbez lurking, possibly listening. If he knew Kain’s thoughts, Golbez gave no indication.

As Kain stepped off the ship, he immediately sensed Barbariccia. She was all around them, tugging curiously at Rosa’s cloak, throwing her hair around, whipping through her clothing. Then, Barbariccia materialized, spinning in her golden hair, looking smugly satisfied as she watched them approach Zot’s open doors.

“You’ve brought me tribute,” Barbariccia said, eyes glinting greedily in anticipation.

“You are a steward, of both the Wind Crystal and the girl,” Golbez corrected her, but not harshly. He pulled the Wind Crystal from his cloak, presenting it to Barbariccia.

With a surprising amount of reverence, Barbariccia took the Crystal from Golbez, turning it over in her hands. Its yellow light cast a strange shadow across her face, making her look suddenly less human. “So much power,” she whispered.

“Tell me, now with the Wind Crystal, what do you see from your tower?” Golbez asked.

“I see…” Barbariccia barely breathed the words, but Kain heard them, nonetheless. “Everything,” she finished, eyes wide but distant. Kain suspected she did not see anything in front of her, but something else entirely. “Eblan has fallen. Richard and the Dragoons search for the royal family from the skies. The prince has escaped, but there is much blood in the air.” Her breath caught in her throat in a gasp. “In Troia, the forest animals flee from the stink of dark magic as something runs from the castle.” She abruptly looked in a different direction, not at any of them, but beyond. “The desert wind stings the eyes of a soldier digging a royal grave in Damcyan…”

“And in Fabul?” Golbez prompted.

“Fabul…” Barbariccia murmured, her brow furrowed in concentration. “A sailor tests the wind, wondering if they can set sail in the morning, and if the tides will favor their journey to Baron or if storms will worry the ship.”

“Hm,” Golbez made a non-committal noise; whatever he thought of the news, he said nothing.

“Is Cecil on the boat?” Kain asked, suddenly desperate to know, unsure of what he would do with the information.

“I cannot tell,” Barbariccia said, frowning. She gave the Crystal back to Golbez, who took it readily. “But I can find out.” She blinked out of existence, intending to rush out, riding the wind as she always did. But the Wind Crystal hummed with power, its glow suddenly brighter, casting a pale light as Barbariccia reappeared. “Why…” she started to ask, then glared at Golbez still holding the Wind Crystal. “What have you done?”

“The Tower of Zot was designed to amplify the Wind Crystals’ power,” Golbez answered, calm in the face of Barbariccia’s growing fury. “It must have a guardian.”

“You cannot bind me here,” Barbariccia protested with a growl; the wind around them picked up suddenly, the skies overhead darkening. “The wind must be free.”

“Everything must have a master,” Golbez countered. “Even you and the wind.”

Barbariccia did not answer with words, but only a mournful howl of anguish. Lightning flashed in the sky, followed by a close crack of thunder, as rain began to fall all around them, in hard, splattering drops.

Golbez did not acknowledge Barbariccia as he strode into the tower, like a parent ignoring a tantruming child. Rosa followed, reluctantly, more mindful of Barbariccia as she passed. Rosa hesitated, looking back at Kain, and Kain was surprised to see sympathy in her eyes.

“We are all prisoners here,” Kain said, both to Rosa and Barbariccia, voicing the thought that neither of them could articulate. He thought of Elena, still onboard the ship, and how magic had bound her undead life to this service as well.

Then, dutiful as ever, Kain followed Golbez into the Tower of Zot.

Chapter Text

Kain had dreamed of the Tower of Zot for years without realizing it, an ominous monument darkening the skies of his nightmares. It called to him, beckoning, urging him closer, to the very heights of the world never seen by any other mortal.

Now, finally standing within, Kain understood it. The Tower of Zot, with both the Wind Crystal and Wind Archfiend, hummed alive with alien power. Its walls had been constructed with thin slits through each wall of stone, to allow the passing of currents throughout all the rooms, embracing the outside wind and taking in their whispered secrets. Barbariccia swept through the floors of the tower, slicing across each floor like a determined tornado, tasting the winds from each face of the tower: north, south, east, and west.

The first time she went through the tower, she returned to the top floor, where Kain and Golbez awaited. “I hear everything,” Barbariccia said, words heavy with the weight of her newfound knowledge. “The whole world over. I…” She swayed uncertainly and Kain stepped in to take her by the elbow, holding her steady; she didn’t seem to notice, her eyes wide and glazed over, unfocused.

She continued, “Baron hangs a prisoner, legs kicking in the air as she strangles. Overhead, crows fly in wide circles, patiently waiting for the feast.” Barbariccia sucked in a breath, as if she felt it herself, and Kain wondered if she did. She exhaled audibly, now sounding relieved. “Richard and the Dragoons return with Rubicante, flying fast toward us, with the stink of blood on their weapons and hands.” Barbariccia blinked hard a few times, lashes fluttering, then steadied herself, no longer needing Kain’s support. “There’s much more, but it is hard to know what to focus on.”

Other times, Barbariccia would suddenly appear to declare something.

“Troia searches for something in the woods, but will not say it out loud, for fear of discovery,” she told them in a breathless gasp, before disappearing again.

Another time, “There’s smoke in the chimneys of Mist again; a new people have settled there and are repairing the village.”

Whatever Golbez made of her news, he did not say.

But it wasn’t until she blew in and announced, “Off Baron’s coast, the sailors of a sinking ship cling to debris, crying out for salvation,” that finally caused a reaction.

“Was it Cecil’s ship?” Kain asked before he could stop himself, the question coming from both himself and from Golbez’s pressing thoughts.

Barbariccia closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, nodding. “They’re Fabulian sailors. Their prayers are to the lost Wind Crystal.”

“Ready a ship,” Golbez said tersely.

Kain was still not sure where the Tower of Zot actually was in the world, but when they emerged from the clouds, they were close to Baron. Kain felt a strange emptiness at the thought of returning. Being home meant nothing without Rosa and Cecil, but he knew there was no way to go back to how it was before. Now, Rosa was a prisoner and Cecil lost at sea; Kain doubted either would survive.

As the ship descended, Baron Castle came into view, only now it seemed just lifeless stone, without the energy and joy it used to contain within its walls.

Together, Kain and Golbez disembarked, and made their way through the castle to the throne room. As they moved through the halls, servants actively avoided them, hurrying to be in another hall, while the guards stood as unobtrusive as possible as Golbez and Kain passed. Golbez did not acknowledge them, while Kain kept his eyes on the floor, trying to ignore the range of emotions he saw openly on people’s faces.

In the throne room, Odin awaited, seated on his throne.

“Lord Golbez,” Odin said, sounding somewhat surprised. But that quickly faded as Odin asked formally, “Have you come to report?”

“A ship from Fabul sank on its way to Baron and there are reported survivors,” Golbez told Odin. Kain knelt before the throne, as was custom, but Golbez ignored the protocol and remained standing. “Send your men to check the coast for any who may wash ashore and capture them alive,” Golbez continued; it sounded strangely like a command. “I want to know what their mission was.”

Kain was surprised when Odin did not scowl at being ordered about, but instead, nodded in agreement. “If they’re in the waters, I’ll find them,” Odin said with an eerie smile that showed all his teeth.

Hours later, Kain and Golbez stood on the shores east of Baron, watching the ocean stretched out before them, mirroring the sky above. Red Wings marines walked up and down the beach, watching the surf line for any bodies that might be thrown out by the ocean’s current.

The methodical lap of waves against the rocky beach was suddenly disrupted by a large wave that crashed violently against the shore. In its foamy wake were four men, gasping for air, crawling through the shallow water and sand. Behind them, rising from the sea foam was the strange turtle man – Cagnazzo – looking triumphant, his empty mouth wide in a terrible smile.

“Lord Golbez,” Cagnazzo said, sweeping into a bow. “The water brings its tribute.”

For one heart-wrenching moment, Kain hoped one of the men might be Cecil, but saw only three sailors in foreign uniforms, and, to Kain’s surprise, the monk who had tried to protect Cecil in Fabul’s Crystal Shrine. Somehow, the monk’s presence was infuriating – how could he survive but not Cecil?

Golbez gestured at the men, and marines surrounded them. At first, the sailors looked relieved at their rescue, but that quickly faded, as each was yanked roughly to their feet. The monk betrayed nothing, his face calm and neutral, even as he was being marched across the sands to be presented to Golbez.

“Yang Fang Leiden,” Golbez announced, naming the monk. “What is a Fabulian ship doing in Baron’s waters?”

“What do you care what worms do?” Yang asked, echoing Golbez’s words back to him, of their first encounter in Fabul’s Crystal Shrine. “Be a shark in the sea if that is your nature but concern yourself with bigger prey. Fabul offers no resistance.”

Golbez chuckled. “I underestimated you back then. But I will not make the same mistake twice.” He took a step forward toward Yang. “Was Cecil Harvey on your boat?” Golbez asked, all humor gone.

Yang said nothing, still infuriatingly calm.

“Perhaps I will have to find a more persuasive way to ask,” Golbez remarked as he turned away, cloak swirling around him with the movement. “Come,” he said, gesturing to the marines, who began closing in on Yang and the sailors. “Let’s show our guests their due hospitality.”

To Kain’s surprise, Yang did not resist, allowing himself to be lead off the beach and onto the road that led into Baron. Kain became aware of Yang watching him, but the monk’s expression was tranquil and blank, with no apparent comment on what he might think of Kain or his situation. It made Kain wildly uncomfortable, and he hurried ahead, trying to ignore the weight of Yang’s gaze on his back.

Inside the castle, Golbez sent the sailors straight to the dungeon, but kept Yang, instead taking him into the royal wing. Kain’s stomach sank when he realized their destination – Odin’s sparring room, where Golbez had first violated Kain’s mind and corrupted Kain from the inside out.

“I find the best measure of a man is muscle against muscle,” Golbez said, striding across the sandy pit of the sparring room, following the script of when Kain was first here, the words paralyzing Kain in place. But Golbez did not make any move to start taking off his armor, but said instead, “Fight my champion, monk, and we shall learn much of each other.”

Kain, now compelled into action by the unspoken command, began pulling his helmet off. He felt Yang’s eyes on him again, heavy but still without comment, making Kain wonder if the monk feared or pitied him. The uncertainty continued boiling within him as he unarmored himself.

Would you rather have pity or fear? something in him prompted. He thought suddenly of Cecil on the first day they met, fear making his eyes go wide as Kain lifted his fist over him. Hadn’t Kain liked that so much better than later, after Richard had supposedly died, when Cecil looked at him with such crushing pity?

Which would you prefer? the voice asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Help me, begged another, somewhere deep and hidden within Kain.

Barefoot and bare-fisted, Kain took up a spot in the sand circle.

“I will not fight you,” Yang said. Despite the declaration, he took up position opposite of Kain, his arms folded neatly over his chest.

“It’s not me you need to worry about,” Kain said through gritted teeth, looking momentarily aside to Golbez. He stood tall and silent, imposing in his dark armor, watching them both from the empty eyes of his helmet.

Something flickered over Yang’s face, a brief betrayal of what lurked under his calm surface: fear. The monk’s posture shifted subtly as he settled into a defensive stance and brought his fists up.

Kain couldn’t help himself and grinned madly, but there was no real humor in it, only a delirious relief that Golbez’s attention was focused on someone other than Kain and Rosa (or Cecil), at least for the time being.

Kain wasn’t specifically trained in hand-to-hand combat but had learned the fundamentals from his boyhood brawls with Cecil and cadet training. He could never hope to best a seasoned monk of Fabul, where martial arts were not just a part of the military, but a cultural art form. Kain saw it now, in how Yang gracefully avoided each of Kain’s punches, either ducking under or spinning nimbly away, or redirecting the force of each blow, turning it harmlessly aside. It reminded Kain of a river rock poking up above the water’s surface and how the water easily parted around it.

But it wasn’t Kain that truly threatened Yang, but Golbez, lurking nearby, patiently watching the fight unfold. Yang seemed to eventually sense it, casting quick glances aside to Golbez, worry knitting his brow.

Just as Kain was starting to flag, his last punch lacking the strength of the previous, Golbez spoke softly from the side, “On Mount Hobs, was it hard to watch your men die? To be so helpless as they were slaughtered?”

Yang froze, his eyes distant in remembered horror, but was brought quickly back to the moment as Kain tried to strike again. Instead of repelling the attack, Yang seized Kain by the wrist, and, using the forward momentum of Kain’s body, flung Kain aside, sending Kain sprawling to the ground.

“I could make it so you’re never powerless again,” Golbez said, barely audible, but Kain knew that the words were also echoing inside Yang’s head, searching for a way in. “You’d be more formidable than any foreign soldier who dared set foot in Fabul.”

As Kain pushed himself up off the floor, his ego more bruised than anything else, Yang was slowly shaking his head. “I know the venom you hide behind your honeyed tongue. I will not be swayed by your offers, no matter how tempting.”

“No?” Golbez countered. “We shall see.”

Both fighters took up position again, only this time Yang seemed less sure of his stance, blinking hard several times as if to clear his head. Still, he was ready to meet Kain’s fists again as their fight began anew.

Golbez’s insidious probing became apparent as Yang gradually slowed down, until Kain finally made his first successful hit, his knuckles cracking on Yang’s cheek. Yang stumbled back, looking stunned, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

At Golbez’s nod, Kain attacked again. After that, Yang’s defense crumbled away, and like Kain only weeks prior, it was all Yang could do just to protect his head. It was not unlike fighting a target dummy. Kain struck wherever he could reach, a new fury fueling his muscles. Kain knew the real battle was now inward, inside of Yang’s own mind, as Yang fought to keep Golbez out, while Golbez searched for a crack in Yang’s resolve, some unfulfilled want or desire that Golbez could manipulate.

As it went on, Yang soon fell to the sandy floor and was unable to get up again. He curled up on his side as Kain kicked him repeatedly in the stomach, his attacks now lacking finesse and preciseness, only striking wildly, like an angry child. Kain’s rage continued to burn in growing outrage – how could Yang still be resisting? Kain wondered, the thought growing bitter as he continued to dwell on it. Was Yang so much stronger than the average man, that he could offer such a stalwart resistance, or was Kain simply weak-willed and fell too easily?

“Stop,” Golbez said, the command halting Kain in place, mid-kick. For one giddy moment, Kain considered disobeying, his new desire to break Yang nearly overwhelming his fear of Golbez. But as Golbez pulled off his helm and set it aside, Kain was halted by Golbez’s eerie resemblance to Cecil, and felt a new wave of shame, as if Cecil himself was judging him.

Golbez approached the sandy circle, and knelt beside Yang, who had rolled to his back, sand clinging to the sticky blood that streamed down his mouth and nose. Yang coughed wetly as he spit out both blood and sand.  “Tell me to make it stop, and I will,” Golbez said, voice softly soothing. “You need only ask, and I can give you anything you’ve ever desired.”

“I will not yield to your temptations,” Yang said, his calm tone in sharp contrast to his terrible condition.

“Enough!” Golbez growled in a rare display of frustration. “If you are the kind of man who will not compromise your ideals for wants, then perhaps it’s better if you remember nothing at all.” He sighed, then looked up at Kain. “Go and say your goodbyes to Baron, you won’t be returning for a while. Be ready to leave tomorrow morning.”

“But—” Kain started to protest.

“Go,” Golbez repeated, looking suddenly weary. “Take your complicated feelings elsewhere for now. I need to concentrate, and you…” he hesitated, then finished more quietly, “You think and feel too loudly.”

“I…” Kain sputtered, feeling painfully embarrassed at Golbez’s comment. Leaving his armor behind, he hurried out of the door, abandoning Yang to whatever fate awaited him.

Kain moved through the halls like a possessed man, unaware of anything or anyone around him, his mind empty, as if to hide from Golbez’s accusation. He continued in this daze as he exited the castle, ignoring all he passed and any words they may have muttered in his wake.

Down the road into Baron Town, he immediately Jumped to the rooftops, desperate to avoid everyone. Whether it was instinct or a deliberate choice, Kain could not tell, he soon found himself on the Inn’s roof, looking across the market square at Rosa’s house.

Rosa was not there, Kain knew, and she probably would not help him even if she was. No, that wasn’t true, Kain corrected himself – Rosa would always help, no matter how at odds they might be. All Kain would have to do is utter two words (Help me) and Rosa would do anything to save him. This knowledge shamed him, that even as a captive, Rosa was selflessly brave and still looking out for him. While Kain, free in his body if not his mind, could not muster the strength to help himself, only continuing to cower from the terror of what Golbez might do next.

It was nearly evening, and at this time, the market square was typically busy with last minute purchases while vendors closed their stalls and people hurried home for dinner. Kain became aware of the suffocating silence; he looked around to see only guards on patrol.

Kain heard the creaking rope before he saw the body, spinning idly in the wind. It hung from a tree beside the Item Shop, at the entrance to the market square, as a warning to all who entered.

Baron hangs a prisoner, legs kicking in the air as she strangles, Barbariccia’s words came back, this time mocking him for ignoring them.

Kain dropped to the ground and sprinted across the square, desperate to be wrong. He recognized her first by her dark brown hair, then, as she continued spinning around, her distorted yet familiar face. Her eyes were still open, wordlessly accusing Kain of his sins against her.

“Marion!” Kain shouted, as if he possessed magic and could summon her back, but her only response was the ongoing creak of the rope protesting the weight of her hanging body. Kain dropped to his knees, feeling bile in his throat, and thought he might vomit; it had been too many hours since his last meal, however, and he only gagged.

Marion, a girl whose sole crime had been loving a selfish man. How had it gotten this far?

“Get up!” A woman’s voice demanded, as Kain was grabbed by the shoulders and yanked to his feet. Joanna stood before him, her face stern and serious. But as she fully saw Kain, her expression turned to surprise. “What happened to you? You look like a Ghoul.”

Kain looked down at himself, and realized his hands and forearms were streaked with Yang’s drying blood, now looking black in the dimming sun overhead. He laughed, the sound abrupt and jarring in the stark silence of the market square. “My mother’s a Revenant, you know,” he announced, biting back hysterical laughter. “My father’s back, too. He’s not undead, though, just an asshole.”

Joanna blinked in surprise, then frowned. “Are you ill?” She reached up, briefly placing her cool palm on his forehead. “Bewitched?” she asked, now whispering. Her eyes searched his face for an indication of either. “Come with me,” she suggested in a gentle voice, slipping comfortably into her role as a healer. “Before you say something that gets you arrested,” she added, casting a concerned glance around, to see if any guards watched them.

Kain followed her unquestioningly, like a chocobo chick following its mother, secure in the knowledge that their mother would guide them safely through the danger. Kain had never had the feeling before, hadn’t known he was missing it until that moment. But now that he knew of it, he felt its absence, a hollow, deep ache for yet another thing he would never truly have.

Inside the Farrell home, Joanna had Kain wash his hands and arms first, the water in the basin turning a murky red brown before he was finished. Then, she sat him at the kitchen table, while she fussed with a kettle on the stove.

“There’s a dark magic in you,” Joanna said, without looking up. “And I think it’s muddling your thoughts. Do you feel clearheaded?”

“No,” Kain answered. “I don’t know,” he corrected, shaking his head. “Sometimes, I feel like my thoughts are my own. Other times, I feel a strange force leaning on me, new impulses pushing me, encouraging all my…” he hesitated, then looked aside, “My less noble thoughts,” he finished, now staring at his hands in his lap.

Joanna said nothing at first, glass clinking as she opened a bottle and dumped it into the kettle. “When are you expected back at the castle?” she then asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” Kain answered absently.

Joanna poured the kettle’s steaming contents into a cup, then brought the cup to the table, placing it before Kain. “You look like death warmed over. This tea will settle your stomach.”

Kain peered into the cup. Had anyone (other than Rosa, of course) cared for Kain like this? It was such a small gesture, so overwhelmingly maternal that Kain didn’t know how to react. He looked over uncertainly at Joanna, who smiled encouragingly and gestured for him to drink.

Kain wrapped his hands around the cup, enjoying the warmth in his palms and fingers, then lifted it to his mouth and took a sip. It was too hot, burning his tongue, and he breathed through his mouth to try and cool it off quickly.

“It’s not your fault Marion was killed,” Joanna said, her tone almost conversational despite the grim words she said. “Odin would have found any reason to execute her. Not for anything she did, but because of her father.”

“What do you mean?” Kain asked, now swallowing the tea, enjoying the warmth as it spread to his belly.

“He refused to keep making weapons for the military,” Joanna said, her voice seeming suddenly distant. “He told Odin he wouldn’t contribute to his war any longer.” Joanna paused, and when she spoke next, she sounded strange and distorted, as if she spoke underwater, “The very next day, Marion was executed. No formal charges, no trial, no chance to defend herself.”

“I don’t feel well,” Kain announced. He abruptly stood up, his legs tangling in the legs of the chair, making him stumble. He fell against the table, knocking over the cup, spilling a dark puddle that seemed to flow all around him. “W... what did you do to me?” Kain asked, slurring as he spoke.

“Only containing you for a short while,” Joanna said, infuriatingly matter of fact, sounding so damn much like Rosa. "Before more daughters are killed."

“You…” Kain said, pointing an accusing finger at Joanna. The edges of his vision began to darken, starting to close in on him. “You back-stabbing bi—” Kain was cut off, words lost as he came crashing down, the world going black.

Chapter Text

Under the effect of Joanna’s Sleep Potion, Kain slept, but fitfully, maintaining a thin thread of awareness of what happened around him. He vaguely felt his body moving, swinging as he was carried by the arms and legs between two people. He thought one of them might be Joanna, but heard her calling out instructions, sounding distant and distorted.

Kain struggled against the bonds of the Sleep Potion, trying to break back through to consciousness. He kept up the fight until he heard Joanna’s softly murmured spellcasting, knowing the spell she crafted, the arcane words already burned into his mind: Libra.

White-hot panic filled him, and Kain fled, away from waking, tumbling with gratitude into the void that awaited him.

Kain dreamed.

Normally, he would have fought, struggling against the pull, but this time he welcomed it. He found himself desperate for the shelter it offered, where he could be blissfully unaware of what happened in the waking world.

What would Joanna find within him, he wondered, what broken thing inside that made him so weak to Golbez’s lure? Could she fix it? And did Kain want her to, his cowardly parts knowing what judgment he would face, having betrayed all his loved ones? Wouldn’t it just be better to stay broken, and cling to the excuse, Golbez made me do it, pretending he had no desire for all he did and thought? Wouldn’t it be better for his shame to stay silent?

Hadn’t Kain always wanted Rosa? Hadn’t he always hated and loved Cecil? Taking Rosa and killing Cecil would finally mean an end to the constant conflict of his soul. Could Kain really maintain the lie that he had and continues to have no control of himself?

It was these daunting questions that Kain feared the most, fueling his reckless flight to escape Joanna’s Libra spell and all it examined.

Instead, Kain dreamed – but not his own.

“You are a hard man to break, Yang Fang Leiden.”

At first, Golbez’s voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, filling Kain’s head, but as dreams do, the scene suddenly materialized around him. Golbez stood on a winding path up the summit of a large mountain, its terrain unfamiliar to Kain. In this dream, Golbez did not wear his armor or helmet, and the whistling wind around them tugged insistently at his hair and cloak, sending both into a wild dance.

Yang snapped into focus next, standing opposite of Golbez. He looked around them, recognition making his eyes widen, just briefly. Yang quickly mastered himself, his expression neutral again, then looked back to Golbez. “Not even this horror will make me bend to you.”

“I believe you,” Golbez conceded, too easily. “You are the master of yourself, a skill you learned over the years, through a carefully cultivated discipline you developed through the trials of your life.” Golbez smiled; it seemed strangely authentic, which made it all the more terrifying. “So few people know themselves as well as you do.”

Yang said nothing, his breathing deep and steady, in counted out measures.

“It makes me wonder,” Golbez continued, conversationally, “What sort of man would you be, without such experience? Without the wisdom of your memories to guide you?”

Yang’s jaw clenched; his mouth set in a grim line – but still he said nothing.

“What would you forget, if you could?” Golbez asked; Kain knew that Golbez already had the answer, but asking was part of his cat and mouse game. Kain didn’t know if Yang was brave or foolish not to play along.

Golbez turned aside, and the rest of the scene filled in: on the plateau just below them, dozens of monks were arranged in neat rows. All faced away from the mountain, toward the light of the rising sun the eastern horizon. They moved gracefully in the morning’s golden rays, like motes of dust floating along on the wind. Their practiced movements were not individual kicks or punches, but a fluid continuation of one maneuver to the next.

“Do you really want to remember what happens next?” Golbez asked.

“It would be a disgrace to their memory if I did not,” Yang replied, in tight control of his words and even tone. “I would not choose to forget them, no matter how painful this vision may be.”

“You misunderstand me,” Golbez said, turning back to Yang. Below, a group of Goblins began swarming onto the plateau. The first few monks, taken unawares, were dispatched easily by the Gobins’ crude axes. Other monks, now warned by their fallen brethren’s gurgled cries of surprise, turned to meet the attacking monsters, and a messy battle broke out. “There is no choice.”

Yang did not reply, only watched the unfolding slaughter of his monks as they were overwhelmed by the Goblins’ sheer numbers.

Beside Yang, Golbez brought his hands to his mouth, whispering a spell into his cupped hands. As power collected between his fingers, his palms began to glow with dazzling green light. As the spell reached its conclusion, Golbez opened his hands, and the green light swirled around, forming three large coiling circles. They wrapped around Yang, on a perpetual spin around him. Yang grunted, but did not move, now trapped in place by the Hold spell.

“What you don’t realize, Yang, is that I’m holding only part of you here. What you specifically are, in the whole of yourself, is the sum of your memories and what the story of your life has made of you.” Golbez paced around Yang, assessing the strength of the spell. “What kind of man do you think you’ll be if you don’t remember who you are? What will you allow yourself to do?”

“You cannot,” Yang managed to say, the words strangled in his throat, the Hold spell pressing him too firmly. Kain felt the urge to swallow, but had no mouth or throat; still, he thought he felt a familiar pressure – where did he know this feeling?

“And while your memory-less self is busy doing whatever is ordered, do you know what you’ll be doing?” Golbez asked, now smirking. “You’ll be enjoying the beautiful view.”

Below, the massacre continued. A few monks survived but were cornered up against either the cliff drop off in front of them, or to the stone of the mountain behind them, with Goblins rapidly closing in on them. One by one they fell, either to axes swinging into them, or falling off the plateau to the rocky depths below.

Except one, Kain realized, still bodiless and drifting, barely aware of himself as he watched. One monk held off his attackers with a blur of punches and kicks. He dashed around a group of Goblins, lightning fast, and as he came closer into view, Kain realized it was Yang – or rather, the past Yang within this memory. The Goblins pursued Yang, some running over the bodies of the monks, trailing bloody footprints behind them.

Yang turned to meet them, fists up, his legs braced. The air crackled with purpose, power gathering around Yang. As the Goblins made their approach, axes held high over their heads, Yang launched himself forward. He Kicked one, and the momentum of the Kick propelled him to the next Goblin, and with each subsequent hit, he bounced between them all. His Kicks were savage, throwing one to the ground, snapping another one’s neck with a well-placed blow to the head. Yang was unarmed, but his punches were deadly enough, caving in the ribs of a Goblin who had dodged the initial Kick.

With Goblin bodies littered around him, past-Yang stood, panting hard, blood smeared up his arms and legs, splattered across his chest and face. He looked like a demon from the depths of the fabled Underworld, come to collect the sinful for their deserved punishments.

There was no time to rest and recover, however, as another group of monsters approached.

“Cecil…” current-Yang croaked out, still paralyzed by the Hold spell.

“Cecil won’t be rescuing you this time,” Golbez remarked, and as he spoke, the scene on the plateau reset: the unbloodied monks back in their neat lines, practicing with the sunrise; the Goblins back in the shadows, readying their axes, preparing for their ambush.

“No,” Yang protested weakly, and Kain was surprised to see tears standing on the monk’s cheeks.

“You will watch,” Golbez said, tonelessly. “Over and over again, until it drives you mad or until there’s nothing left of the man you remember yourself as.” Golbez turned away, away from both Yang and the plateau and its repeating scene of carnage. “Meanwhile, the new you will be getting acquainted with how we do things in Baron, and we shall see what kind of man you really are.”

Yang let out a wordless moan, not looking at Golbez but watching as the monks tried and failed to defend themselves, again.

“Enjoy,” Golbez said, walking away, from both Yang and the endless nightmare.

The scene around Kain distorted, then abruptly faded.

Kain did not let go of Golbez’s mind, however, clinging tight, like a barnacle to a ship, or a tick on an animal. Unaware of Kain’s presence, Golbez quickly left Yang’s dream behind, but then slipped into his own.

A boy stumbled through dense forest, his palms dirty, bloody, and bruised from pushing through tree limbs and bushes. Each scratch on his hands and arms pulsed with pain, but he tried to ignore it, still intent on trying to find his way.

Finally, the tree line broke into a small clearing. Now outside of the thick foliage, the sun seemed unnaturally bright, and the boy squinted up at the sun like he was surprised to see it. Then, a cloud passed over, dimming the sun, making the world darker.

“Is it enough for you?” the boy asked of no one. By his voice, Kain recognized the boy as Theodor, whose dream Kain had witnessed through Golbez once before. Was this another? Kain tried to make himself as small as possible, not knowing if Golbez lurked nearby. “Have I sown enough chaos and hatred for you? Need you more?” Theodor spoke with a boy’s voice, but it was an adult’s words, heavy with the weight of his years.

You know the answer, answered another, a malevolent whisper in the back of the mind. I must have the whole wretched planet and everything within it.

“You shall have it,” Theodor replied, though there was a weariness in the words. Then, added belatedly, “Master.” Theodor sounded so much like Kain responding to Golbez that it sent a shiver of revulsion down Kain’s spine.

Kain desperately wanted to get away from this dream, trying to pretend he did not know what it meant or who Theodor truly was. Something tugged at Kain’s awareness in the waking world, and, grateful for the opportunity, Kain followed it, fleeing Golbez’s strange dream.

Kain became alert with a shout, a sharp pain exploding from his chest. His eyes flew open to Joanna leaning over him, watching him with concerned eyes that reminded him too much of Rosa. Joanna had a closed fist pressed into his sternum, the pressure of her knuckles digging into his chest, making the world dizzy with pain. At his sudden waking, Joanna jumped back, withdrawing from him, and Kain felt instant relief.

Kain sat, rubbing his chest with his palm, straining for full breaths. “What did you do to me?” He felt strangely exposed before her, wondering what she had – or had not— found.

“Where did you go?” Joanna asked her own questions instead of answering his, her voice gentle. “Without you fighting me, I should have been able to find what spell Golbez left within you, and perhaps undone it. But…” she looked away, chewing in her lip in thought. “But there’s a part of you missing, hidden too deeply for me to find. Golbez’s magic must be there too, in with whatever he has kept from you that makes you fully yourself.”

“Hold,” Kain said, holding his head in his hands. “I watched him do it, to another. He traps the part of you that can resist his temptations and separates the whole of you from it. And then you are a man who cannot say no to what is offered because…” Kain hesitated, looking up from his hands at Joanna, then, said instead, “Somehow, he has fashioned Hold to such an end.”

Finally having named it, Kain felt the shape of the hole within himself, the missing piece that kept him honorable and fair, that kept his jealousies and greedy nature in check and tempered his desire for more of everything and everyone. It was his shame, Kain knew, because he felt none.

“Now that you know what’s missing, can you not find it? Search for the missing part and try and free it? Become yourself again?” Joanna asked cautiously. “With the Libra spell, can we work together?”

“No,” Kain replied quickly, desperate to deny her idea. His shame cried from its prison, trying to free itself, but the rest of Kain was glad to be liberated from the heavy expectations his shame placed upon him. He knew now it was this sense of shame that had guided him through life, keeping him from being the worst version of himself. Whenever Kain had failed, it was his shame that motivated him to try harder, needing to replace the dreaded feeling with something he could be proud of instead.

Joanna watched him, her expression serious and searching, wordlessly trying to determine something. Finally, she nodded to herself. “You will need someone you trust to find the Hold spell within you and undo its binds. Libra, then Esuna.” She hesitated, only for a brief second, before continuing, “Rosa can do it. She knows you well enough. If…” Joanna looked away, tears suddenly filling her eyes. “If she can. Tell me, is she at least safe?” she asked, voice trembling.

“For now,” Kain said, his voice rumbling deeply in his chest. He got up from the bed, and Joanna stood aside, allowing him access to the bedroom’s door. Kain looked around and realized he was in Rosa’s bedroom, and that somehow made this conversation so much harder. “She is alive.”

“Is she with Cecil? Did he lead her into trouble?” Joanna asked, following Kain as he exited the bedroom. “Can you at least tell me where she is?”

Kain couldn’t, even if he wanted to, because he had no idea where the Tower of Zot was. He said nothing as he approached the door and pulled it open.

“Get out of Baron as soon as you can, Kain,” Joanna said, and the tears were gone from her voice, now hardened. “A revolution is coming, and you don’t want to be on the wrong side.”

Kain hesitated, his hand hovering over the door’s knob. He looked over his shoulder at her. “Who was here with you when you drugged me? Who is helping you with this so-called revolution?”

“People who wouldn’t hesitate to slip a knife between your ribs if you are in the wrong place, helping the wrong people,” Joanna answered, then reached around him to open the door herself. It swung open to the outside, sending morning light spilling brightly within.

Kain lifted his hand to block the light until his eyes finally adjusted, and he saw a man standing outside of Joanna’s door. It was Marion’s father, Kain realized with sudden alarm. The Weapon Shop’s owner, Smithy Oakes, had seemingly aged overnight, his cheeks hollow and sunken within his face. He fixed Kain with a narrowed glare, then spoke with a rusty voice, “Leave Baron while you still have legs to carry you.”

Kain didn’t need to be told twice; he fled.

The Red Jenny, a small but fleet airship, meant mostly for speedy diplomatic missions, gained altitude over Baron slowly. Her engines were not as powerful as the typical Red Wings war machine, so she leveled off much closer to the ground than most.

Still, she was fast, maneuvering easily around Baron’s rocky coast, leaving the castle behind them. Kain leaned against the ship’s railing, watching the scenery speed by, glad to be gone of Baron and its strange intrigues. Perhaps the distance from Golbez, who had stayed in Baron, would help. Without Golbez’s eyes constantly on his back,  Kain could talk to Rosa, and together, they could figure out—

On the beach, a figure emerged from the foamy wake of the lashing waves, seemingly out of nowhere, materializing from the sea itself. Kain saw the creature’s scales glinting blue green in the sunlight and recognized him at once – Cagnazzo, with his strange misshapen turtle’s head and body. Cagnazzo shook the water from him, like a dog shaking its coat dry, and suddenly he was someone else, he was… he was…

Kain blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. It must be the after-effects of Joanna’s Sleep Potion, Kain told himself. He did not see King Odin on the beach, stretching his arms into the air, as if to test the length of them – that was only Kain’s wild imagination, and nothing more.

Chapter Text

On the journey to the Tower of Zot, Kain tried to track the ship’s movement over the sea. At some point south of Baron, the Red Jenny broke into a thick layer of clouds, and Kain became disoriented, swearing the ship must have turned around at least twice. When the ship finally emerged from the clouds, the Tower of Zot stretched high up into sky. The surrounding clouds obscured the landmarks around them – if there were any to be seen.

If the ship’s crew was put off by the tower’s ominous presence, as Kain was, they hid it well, going through their tasks with a detached efficiency that unnerved Kain. These were not monsters, Kain knew, they moved too certainly in their own bodies. Instead, they were men, who chose to be here, as surely as Kain did.

The ship docked, and as Kain disembarked, a powerful gust of wind hit him, nearly sending him stumbling. He braced himself as the wind swirled around him, playfully pushing him back and forth.

“Kain,” the wind sighed beside him, and Barbariccia swirled into existence. “Let’s ride the winds out of Zot and see how far I get before its magic snaps me back.”

“And what of me? I have no magic to keep me from falling to my death,” Kain protested.

“You have me,” Barbariccia retorted, feigning hurt. “Wouldn’t you trust me to keep you safe, as I’ve always done?”

“You are a fickle thing,” Kain pointed out. “Who knows what whim you might follow.”

“Ah,” Barbariccia clicked her tongue and she suddenly grinned. “Perhaps I am a bit mercurial, but I do not forget my promises.” She seized him by the hand and pulled, and the wind picked up around them, helping push Kain along. “I still owe you a boon, for bringing me the Wind Crystal.”

Kain thought of the Wind Crystal here at the Tower Zot and how it had been used to bind Barbariccia in servitude. He had thought his betrayal, unwitting or not, negated the promise, so now he was surprised to hear her mention it again. There was Kain’s anger too, on their way back from Fabul, how furious he’d been with Barbariccia and her role in the slaughter. The idea of monster troops still felt viscerally wrong, but somehow his outrage had been tempered, his feelings too raw from his encounter with Joanna and Golbez.

“But…” Kain started to object, but let the protest die, curiosity prompting him to instead ask, “You will tell me your real name?”

“Hardly a prize,” Barbariccia replied with a shrug. “I have something much better in mind.” Still holding Kain’s hand, she led him into the Tower of Zot. She knew the tower and its halls well, navigating each turn confidently, despite Kain immediately getting lost.

Just as Kain was about to ask, where are we going? they entered a large room; within, the smell of fresh hay and blood filled the space. Kain looked around to see the room divided up into individual stalls, like a stable. On the opposite wall, a large set of doors was ajar; sunlight spilled in, and the wind whistled sharply outside.

“Chocobos?” Kain asked, not understanding. “This high up?”

“Black chocobos,” Barbariccia corrected him. She led him across the stables. Kain saw a pile of fresh hay in one of the larger stalls, and beside it, a pile of dead rodents. “The original denizens of the tower used to stable them here, for quick transport.” Barbariccia nodded to the stall. “Grab a Sword Rat – we’ll need one. And mind the needles.”

Kain frowned but obeyed, gingerly holding the dead animal by its long tail. Barbariccia’s hand was still in his other.

They passed through the outside doors, onto an extended stone platform, not unlike a dock for airships. This one was too small for a ship, but large enough for a chocobo to safely land. There were a dozen or so stone ledges protruding from the tower’s side, where the chocobos could perch.

“You’ve always been lonely, Kain,” Barbariccia remarked, and as if to prove the point, dropped his hand. Facing Kain, she backed slowly down the dock, each step deliberate and careful. “No one knows that more than me. I’ve heard everything you’ve ever told the sky and wind in confidence. I know the deep yearnings of your heart, even if you are too cowardly to name them yourself.” The wind danced around Barbariccia, throwing her hair chaotically in its wake; she looked like a witch giving prophecy.

Kain said nothing, her words too honest to counter.

“I cannot ease them all of your troubles, but perhaps just one of them will be enough.” Barbariccia turned away from Kain, now facing the cloudy sky that surrounded the Tower of Zot. She raised her arms, and around her, the wind swirled faster, her hair now coiling like a tornado. Distantly, a warbling cry answered, then the clouds parted.

It was small but fleet and nimble, dashing back and forth, playing in the currents of wind that Barbariccia’s presence created. As it gradually approached the tower, circling overhead, Kain could faintly make out a flash of blue, glittering in the sunlight. Then, it dove for Kain.

It happened too fast for Kain to react, a new weight slamming into his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. He heard a loud snuff of nostrils and felt warm breath on his exposed jaw; Kain wondered what sort of beast Barbariccia had summoned to eat him.

The weight was suddenly gone, and Kain sat up to see a small dragon, not much bigger than a hatchling, tearing fur and flesh from the Sword Rat. It paused to throw a piece up into the air, then playfully caught it with a snap of its jaws. Its scales were a dark blue, the color of the night sky just before it turned black. Despite its enthusiastic eating, it watched Kain with curious yellow eyes.

Barbariccia laughed, and that drew Kain’s attention back to her. “She likes you already,” Barbariccia remarked with a smile. “I heard her a few days ago, crying for her lost mother, so I guided her here.” Her smile faded then, and Barbariccia’s eyes went distant as she looked out to the horizon. “She… reminded me of you.”

“A dragon?” Kain sputtered, still in disbelief. “But don’t they need to be taken as eggs, to properly tame?”

“Do you want a tame dragon, Kain?” Barbariccia asked pointedly, now frowning at him. “No, she will be more loyal and fierce than any terrified captive. She will fly for you like no other.” Barbariccia paused, then added, “There’s nothing more potent than the gratitude of an abandoned orphan, don’t you agree?”

Kain looked back at the dragon with a new perspective. She watched him with both a hopefulness and wariness that Kain knew too well. “What’s her name?” Kain asked.

Barbariccia shrugged. “You will have to think of one.”

Kain reached tentatively out toward the dragon, who eyed the approach cautiously. Then, she lifted her head to the gesture, leaning her bloodied muzzle into his gauntlet. “This is a grand boon,” Kain said, still watching the dragon. “But not what you promised.”

“You are displeased?” Barbariccia asked with a new flirty edge. “You would reject my gift and demand another?”

“Hardly,” Kain said, withdrawing his hand, now smeared with blood along its metal fingers. The dragon fell to her back, belly showing as she writhed on the ground. As soon as Kain reached in to pet her, she curled around his arm and seized his wrist with jaw. Her haunches flexed, digging her back talons into his forearm; she would have pierced flesh if he did not wear armor, but instead, her claws scraped nosily against the metal. “But would you tell me your name, anyway?” Kain asked, as he tried tugging his arm free. The dragon rumbled deep in her throat in mock threat. “Not as a goddess, but as yourself, whoever you are?”

“I was not important before I was Barbariccia,” she replied, turning away from him, to watch the clouds again. She seemed suddenly smaller, dwarfed by the expansive sky around them, rather than empowered.

“Yes, but—” Kain started to protest, but the dragon suddenly dropped his arm, scrambling to her feet. She took off in a run, jumping off the stone dock in a sharp dive downward. “Where did she--?”

Kain did not get a chance to answer before Barbariccia seized him, her hair circling tightly around him, lifting him off his feet. They took off into the sky like the shot from a ship’s canon, gaining altitude faster than Kain had ever Jumped before. Kain thought they might fly forever, and as soon as he had that thought, the Tower of Zot below them beckoned them back, and together, they fell.

Kain clung to Barbariccia like a lifeline, and she held him. The intimacy of the embrace inspired a strange sense of security Kain thought he had never had, but then realized it was the same feeling he always had Jumping into the wind, a blind trust that it would guide him to safety.

Together, they landed on a perch high above the stables’ dock, nestled in the anonymous gray stone of the tower. The dragon landed nearby, nervously pacing up and down the ledge, watching the dock below.

“What—” Kain tried to ask, but Barbariccia hushed him with a scolding hiss, then pointed downward. Kain looked down to see two figures emerge from the stables, both at a fast pace, their voices raised in argument – his mother and father, both unarmored.

“What do you want of me?” Elena asked, whirling around on Richard. “I’ve died for my mistakes already, Richard, what more punishment do you want from me? Would you like to kill me now, and have Scarmiglione Raise me again? How many times would you like to watch me die before you’re satisfied?”

Richard stopped short just before Elena. “Yes, of course,” he retorted, full of sarcasm. “Elena the martyr, as always. You willingly allow pain into your life, then act indignant that we’re not all grateful for your unasked-for sacrifices. You’re not noble, you’re just selfish and greedy.”

“What do you want, Richard?” Elena asked again, this time through clenched teeth.

“I want you to leave my son alone,” Richard answered. “Tell Scarmiglione you’ll do this mission alone.”

“Your son?” Elena countered with a new rising anger. “He’s my son, too.”

“And you left him!” Richard shouted. “You left us both alone when we needed you the most.”

“So did you!” Elena yelled back. “You left, because being powerful was more important than being Kain’s father. You’re just as selfish as me, but worse, because you knew how much it would hurt but did it anyway.”

Richard said nothing, either too chastised or too angry to reply; Kain could not tell.

Elena sighed, some of the anger going out of her. “I’m trying to leave him alone. It is… hard,” she admitted, looking to the ground. “But this mission? I have no choice. It comes straight from Golbez, and he specified I was to take Kain with me.” She hesitated a moment, looking cautiously back up at Richard. “I have not told Kain anything… Have you?”

“No,” Richard answered too quickly. “He doesn’t need to know. It doesn’t change anything.”

“And the girl?” Elena asked, concerned. “You are not worried?”

“She won’t survive this,” Richard said with a cruel casualness. “It won’t matter.”

“Richard…” Elena implored, her tone softening. “She isn’t a random captive. Putting aside our problems, this is Joanna’s girl we’re talking about.” Elena paused. “Joanna,” she repeated with emphasis, as if he did not hear her the first time. “Do you really not care? After everything, do we not owe her this?”

Richard frowned, and it was his turn to look away. “I owe more to my son.”

“I see,” Elena murmured, more to herself than to him.

“You should go prepare for your mission,” Richard said stiffly, stepping aside to allow Elena to pass. She hesitated a moment, then stepped past him into the stables, disappearing.

Richard stood on the dock for a moment longer, his eyes closed, and face upturned to the sky. Then, he turned away and followed Elena back into the tower.

“Well,” Barbariccia said with an exaggerated sigh. “What do you suppose that was about? They’ve been fighting since Richard returned from Eblan, but they never put breath into the actual problem, only dance with vague mentions of some great wrongdoing.”

“I’m not sure,” Kain half-lied, only having uncertain theories but nothing concrete. “And I don’t know if I want to find out.” Beside them, the dragon tested her wings with a few flaps, then dove off the ledge.

“What’s the point of a secret if you don’t try to figure it out?” Barbariccia asked, watching the dragon pull up suddenly, then take off, disappearing into the clouds.

“Like your name?” Kain suggested with an unexpected grin. He wanted to forget what he had seen and heard from his parents. He expected Barbariccia to laugh, but instead, she wore a sadly serious expression, not looking at Kain but downward, beyond the stables and its platform, to the foggy, unseen depths below. “You don’t have to tell me,” Kain corrected quicky, hating to see her so forlorn.

“Valvalis,” she said quietly, almost too low for Kain to hear, as if she feared someone eavesdropping. “Before I became an Archfiend, my name was Valvalis.”

“Valvalis,” Kain repeated, testing the name out. As he said it, the dragon came back into view, streaming clouds behind her. “Val,” Kain said, suddenly inspired. “It’s the perfect name for a fierce and beautiful dragon.”

“Kain…” Barbariccia said, almost a warning.

The dragon circled in place, letting out a trumpeting bellow, like a victory cry. “See?” Kain said, gesturing toward the dragon. “Even she likes it.”

Barbariccia, despite herself, smiled at the sight. “Perhaps it is a good name,” she reluctantly admitted. “But Elena is right – Golbez has a new mission you need to prepare for.”

“What is it?” Kain prompted, unsure if he wanted to know.

“The Earth Crystal in Troia,” Barbariccia answered, knowing everything as always. “But before you leave, you should visit the prison.”

“Why?” Kain asked, his tongue dry in his mouth. Part of him had been desperate to see Rosa, to confirm her safety, to beg forgiveness and help, but that was drowned out by the cry of his own cowardice.

“Because….” Barbariccia pouted. “It is the one place where I don’t have ears.”

Kain was about to ask what she meant when Richard’s voice boomed from below, “Barbariccia!” Richard called, like a summon. Kain looked down and saw Richard back on the dock, pacing around.

Barbariccia frowned. “I’ll explain later.” Then, as if remembering her usual playful self, she blew a kiss. “If you’re lucky. And with me, you’re always lucky.” She disappeared in a blur of hair and wind. Kain watched as she reappeared next to Richard, swirling around him, then leading him back into the tower.

Kain waited a few minutes after they left before Jumping back down to the stables’ dock. Val flew lazily down and landed, looking up expectantly at him.

“Another Sword Rat?” Kain asked, inclining his head toward the stables. Val nipped at his leg, forcing him to take quick steps to get away from her. She followed, taking swipes at his ankles as she got closer, herding him toward the stables. “All right!” Kain laughed, “You can have two, you greedy thing.”

Val made a sound of approval deep in her throat; it made Kain smile.

Despite her departure with Richard, Kain could still hear Barbariccia in his ear, guiding him through the tower, up several flights of stairs, through twisting corridors and hallways. He passed by several of Barbariccia’s monsters – Centaur Knights patrolling with Frost Beasts by their side; Sorceresses alongside Fell Turtles, reminding Kain too much of what he may or may not have seen on Baron’s beach; even strange Marionettes, little doll like creatures that danced under the direction of their Marionetter. He did his best to ignore them and the pit of dread he felt deep in his stomach whenever he saw one.

Barbariccia’s guidance abruptly ended, as he turned a corner and entered a new hallway. The atmosphere felt strange to Kain, somehow different than the rest of the tower. He took a few steps down, paused, then walked back, trying to place the strange feeling.

It is the one place where I don’t have ears, Barbariccia’s odd remark came back to him, and Kain realized he felt no wind in this hallway. He ran his hands along the wall, feeling for a draft – there was none. This was not a regular prison, but one for a Wind Archfiend, where they could not breezily escape to another room. Kain wondered what sort of people had built this place. Swallowing hard, Kain continued down the hallway, trying not to feel like his lungs couldn’t get a full breath.

The prison door waited at the end of the hall. Through the bars, Kain saw Rosa within. Although not a small cell, it was sparsely furnished, with a bed in one corner and a bucket in the opposite; built into the wall opposite the door was a hearth, dirty with old soot, gathering cobwebs from long term disuse.

Rosa sat in the middle of the room, cross-legged, her open palms resting on her knees and her eyes closed. She reminded Kain of Yang, with his infuriating calmness. She wore a coarse gray shift, but otherwise looked as she did when he saw her last, and Kain felt a wave of relief and gratitude that she had not been mistreated.

Did she Pray? Kain wondered but was not sure. If Golbez’s Hold spells could last this long, no doubt his Silence on Rosa did as well. Kain watched as Rosa shifted, now kneeling, then leaned down to trace something on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Kain asked without thinking.

Rosa looked up at the sound of his voice and froze, alarm in her blue eyes. It was the same fear he’d seen in that terrible moment in the infirmary when he’d cornered her. He felt the same sense of excitement as he had then; he should have felt dismayed by the notion, but the feeling was strangely absent, letting Kain stew in his greedy desires.

“Planning our escape,” Rosa said, surprising Kain. She stood and crossed the cell to the bars, peering curiously at him. “Unless you’ve come to rescue me?” she asked, with too much optimism.

“I don’t have the key,” Kain said, nodding to the locked door. “How are you speaking? What of Silence?”

Rosa shook her head. “Golbez is not nearly so powerful as he thinks. At least not his White Magic.”

Kain felt a flutter of hope. “You can do undo his magic?”

“With time and patience, perhaps,” Rosa said, her voice now gentle. “Would you let me try to undo his magic on you?”

“If you’re not Silenced and can cast, why haven’t you escaped?” Kain asked instead, trying to swallow down his rising panic. “You could have Teleported out.”

“Ah,” Rosa sighed, closing her eyes briefly. “I cannot. For Teleport to work correctly, I must know both where I am and where I’m going. This tower moves constantly in the world, starting the day in one region and ending it in another.” Rosa stepped back, to allow Kain to look inside. From here, he now saw the floor more clearly – Rosa had been using soot from the hearth to draw a rough map on the ground, marking out locations with Xs. “I can track the tower’s movements with Sight, but there doesn’t seem to be any pattern or schedule for when it moves,” she said, answering the question before he had a chance to ask. Then added more quietly, “For a while, we were close to Baron.”

“Why didn’t you Teleport then?” Kain asked.

“I couldn’t leave without you,” Rosa answered, sounding shy and small.

“Rosa…”

“Even with Sight, Teleport is risky,” Rosa ignored his potential protest. “If the tower moves at all, it could throw off the spell and land us somewhere dangerous.” She bit her lip in thought. “If we could leave the tower by air, it might be easier.”

“We couldn’t take a ship without raising an alarm,” Kain said, frowning. He looked down and saw his gauntlets, one with now-drying blood on it. He looked back up, suddenly inspired. “I might have an idea.”

“Do you mean it, Kain?” Rosa asked. She stepped close to the bars, gripping one in each hand. “Would you really leave with me?”

Kain hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Down the hallway, loud footfalls sounded, drawing Kain’s attention back.

“Promise you’ll leave this tower with me,” Rosa said; it was not a request but a demand.

“I have to go,” Kain said, taking a step back from the prison door.

“Promise me!” Rosa rattled the bars in her grip. “Whatever is to come next, I can endure, if you promise not to leave me here alone. We’ll escape and find Cecil together.”

“I…” Kain hesitated. How could he tell Rosa that Cecil had died at sea? “I promise,” he said quickly, not knowing if he lied.

Hope blossomed in Rosa, lighting her up from within, making her somehow more beautiful. Unable to bear the sight, Kain turned and ran down the hallway, passing three strange girls on the way, not caring as he bumped into the tallest of the three.

The mission to Troia for the Earth Crystal, and Kain’s mother, awaited him.

Chapter Text

When Kain left the Tower of Zot, it was not on a speedy little ship, but a large warship, designed for destruction with its large canons mounted on both sides of the ship. A troop of soldiers sat below deck, idly passing the time in their cramped quarters; Kain was unsure if they were monsters or humans and found he did not want to find out.

Elena was nowhere to be seen on deck as they departed, but Kain was not surprised. He expected her to avoid him as much as possible, only interacting when their mission required it. What devastating secret did she keep to herself, Kain wondered, and why couldn’t he know? Surely, over twenty years later, such a secret wouldn’t matter anymore.

After an eternity drifting through thick clouds, the ship, the Crimson Strike, finally broke through the clouds, emerging to find forest stretching out in endless green before it. Kain had heard of the immense Troia Forest before and knew of its general size but seeing it made it seem more impossible. The ship continued onward, heading north toward the capital.

Kain stood on the ship’s deck, leaning against the railing, deeply breathing the clean air. It seemed to fill his lungs more, bringing more energy into his body, making him feel more alive.

“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Elena remarked, startling Kain with her sudden closeness. He looked aside, to see her standing beside him. She did not wear her dark knight armor, only a plain tunic and leggings, and Kain could see the decay in her graying green flesh, exposed in patches on her arms and neck, but it seemed less prominent now than the first time he saw her, like she was slowly becoming less Revenant and more human again.

“It is,” Kain agreed, looking back to the forest below them. “I have never breathed air so fresh before.”

“Ah.” Elena smiled. “Through the trees, the earth gives to the wind, making it sweeter. The wind stirs the clouds into a frenzy, releasing their rain to the earth, soaking it anew, allowing new life to spring up. More trees grow, creating more wind, then more rain, and so on, the cycle continues.” She leaned on the railing, looking out at the forest. “I wish I could taste Troian air, one more time.”

“Why did you leave Troia?” Kain asked quietly.

“Opportunity,” Elena replied, her gaze still distant, looking out over the forest. “King Odin had the Leonhart artifacts and offered me access only if I enlisted.” She paused, then shook her head. “I’m lying. I originally told him no, I wanted to stay in Troia.” She smiled, faintly bittersweet. “Then I had my heart broken and needed a change of scenery, so I accepted Odin’s offer.”

“Oh,” Kain said, surprised by her admission. “Do you regret leaving?”

“No,” Elena answered quickly. “The short time I got to be your mother made all the hurt and heartache worth it.”

Kain swallowed hard. “You’re still my mother.”

Elena shook her head. “Now, I am Scarmiglione’s Champion before all else. I cherish my memories of you and remember the love I felt, but now my heart is shrunken with rot. I left behind who I was in my grave.”

“I see,” Kain murmured, unable to hide his childish disappointment at her rejection.

“When we return with the Earth Crystal, Scarmiglione’s power will grow,” Elena said, ignoring Kain’s hurt. “With it, he’ll make me stronger and more whole. Maybe then, I will have space inside me to feel again.”

“What does it mean, to be an Archfiend’s Champion?” Kain asked; he heard the reference several times before but had never questioned what that meant, until now.

 Elena shrugged. “It depends on the Archfiend. For Barbariccia, it means someone to worship her and offer tribute. For Cagnazzo, it means swearing fealty and obediently following orders. And for Rubicant, it means having a general, to carry out his commands and think as Rubicant himself does.”

“And for Scarmiglione?” Kain prompted when she did not continue. “What does being his Champion mean?”

“It means…” Elena hesitated, searching for the right words. “A confidante. Someone to review plans with and give meaningful input. A person unafraid to offer their opinion and feedback.”

“A friend?” Kain asked, skeptical.

Elena laughed. “A fellow soldier,” she corrected. “I don’t think any of the Archfiends know how to be a friend, but Scarmiglione is probably the closest. He’s the oldest, you know, and the only one without a Crystal, and thus the weakest of the four.”

“And Golbez?” Kain prompted. “What does being his Champion mean for me?”

Elena sobered; humor forgotten. “I do not know – and that frightens me for you. Golbez pursues the Crystals with a dogged single-mindedness, willing to sacrifice all for their power. I do not believe he would hesitate to spend your life or dignity for his goals.”

Elena’s words sent a cold chill down Kain’s spine, and he knew she spoke the truth. “If the Crystal is so important, then why not send an army for it?” Kain asked, instead of dwelling on the thought of Golbez, afraid to summon the sorcerer’s attention.

Elena gestured vaguely, indicating the forest below. “It is too hard to take by siege. Getting soldiers to the ground is a logistical nightmare. Firing from above might work, but the current bombs are crude and outdated, not guaranteed to explode correctly. No, we will go straight to the Epopts.”

“So, our task is to ask nicely for the Earth Crystal?” Kain asked, incredulously. “What makes you think that will work?”

Elena shrugged again. “It won’t. Based on Barbariccia’s reports, I doubt the Earth Crystal is still in the capital. Our task today is to find out what happened and where the Earth Crystal is now.”

“And why would they tell us?” Kain asked.

Unexpectedly, Elena grinned. “I have my ways.”

Troia was ruled by a matriarchal theocracy, although a gentle one. The eight Epopts, sometimes called Sisters or Clerics, were thought to communicate with the gods of the forest via the Earth Crystal. The worship of these gods assured the ongoing bounty from the forest.

Hunters prayed before pursuing quarry, then gave their thanks for the animal and the sustenance it would give. Foragers whispered their appreciation to the trees, as they collected the hidden treasures on the forest floor. Nomadic merchants, who traveled between the capital and the countless tiny settlements hidden in the giant forest, listened to the wind whistling in the branches to find their direction when no sun could be spied through the thick tree canopy. Fishers with nets full of river fish left offerings to the forest, mostly small trinkets and coins, in humble altars made from found stones and fallen branches. All in Troia benefited from the Earth Crystal’s glory and gifts.

Troia was largely run by women. Its army was almost entirely female, along with any occupation with a weapon in hand. The right of inheritance followed the matrilineal line, with husbands taking their wives’ names, if they married at all. It was believed, in Troia, that a child’s mother could never be doubted, so it was their mother’s name and legacy that mattered. A child’s father was important, but not always necessary.

Love was less formal in Troia, with men and women openly taking lovers as they pleased, without the puritanical shame often associated with such behavior. Troians were famed for their beauty; their art and culture reflected this, with a deep appreciation for the human body and spirit.

The worst-kept secret in Troia’s underground was the presence of a speakeasy, hidden in the basement of the Pub, cheekily named the King’s Bounty Pub. Membership was exclusive, but could be bought for the right price, if one knew who to ask. Dancing girls performed provocative shows on stage while patrons, mostly wealthy male tourists, cheered on their favorites.

There was one notable exception to this concept of unrestricted love and attraction: the Epopts. To keep their judgments and wisdom without undue influence, Epopts were not permitted to marry or have ongoing relationships, and having a paramour of any kind was seen as uncouth and culturally frowned upon. It was not unprecedented for an Epopt to step down in favor of a relationship, although it had not happened in the last two generations of Epopts.

Given Troia’s relative isolation, its difficult to navigate terrain, and fiercely protective military, Troia had not engaged in any international conflicts in recent history, enjoying centuries of peace and prosperity.

As Elena and Kain entered Troia Village, Kain struggled to remember all he could about the country, recalling little from his history and politics lessons as a cadet. Elena seemed confident, however, striding through Troia’s town and straight to Troia Castle, navigating the streets with comfortable ease.

Some citizens paused at the sight of a dark knight and dragoon, as both wore their armor and helmets, but none intervened until they reached the castle, where a guard stopped to ask their business.

“We are emissaries from Baron,” Elena said, her voice tightly controlled. “Send word to the Epopts that we need to be seen right away.” When the guard arched an eyebrow at that, Elena added, “Or our Red Wings ship and its contingent of soldiers might miss us and begin to worry.”

“Is that a threat?” the guard asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Does it need to be?” Elena replied, sounding casual.

“Let the Epopts decide,” said another guard, who had approached upon seeing them at the gates. She nodded to the gatekeeper who began to pull the mechanism to open the gates. Rattling nosily, the gates lifted, and the guard gestured them in. As Elena passed her, the guard muttered, “Turncoat.”

Elena did not acknowledge the comment, only silently followed their escort into the castle.

Inside the Epopts Chamber, the eight Epopts stood in a wide semi-circle, awaiting Elena and Kain’s entrance. At first glance, they all looked identical, in their matching purple robes and dark yellow headdresses, their forearms stacked with gold bracelets that resembled bracers. But on second glance, Kain saw the differences – a mix of hair colors, face shapes, and heights. One stepped forward as they entered, and Kain guessed her as the eldest, by the white streaks in her brown hair.

“What business does Baron have in Troia?” the Epopt demanded, no warmth in her voice.

Kain looked aside to Elena, who nodded silently. Kain took half-a-step forward. “We have come to liberate your Earth Crystal,” Kain said, his deep voice booming within his helmet. “We offer a peaceful option: hand it over now and avoid unnecessary bloodshed and destruction.”

The other seven Epopts all exchanged glances, while the eldest stood unmoving. “You would declare war?” she asked.

“Baron will use the Crystal to help reshape the world into a better place,” Kain said, almost believing it; Golbez’s influence, though far away, still leaned on his mind. “You can hand the Earth Crystal over willingly, or it will be taken, but the result will be same: Baron will possess all the Crystals.” He paused, letting tension grow in the thick silence. Then, more quietly, continued, “The question is, how do you want Troia to fare in the aftermath? Look only to Damcyan to see your potential future.”

“How dare you—” the eldest Epopt started.

“The Red Wings will drop hellfire from above, turning your forest to ash around you,” Elena interrupted, her voice low and raspy again; Kain could barely detect her accent. “The wind will carry the flames to every corner of Troia Forest. Around you, the dead will rise from their graves, attacking their former loved ones without concern or care. You will be left with the husk of your country, hollowed and emptied.”

The Epopts said nothing, only staring in stunned silence.

“Think about the message you want me to carry back to my master,” Elena continued, then turned aside to Kain. “Let’s go.”

“But—” Kain started to protest.

“Let’s go,” Elena repeated, this time harsher, then started for the exit.

“Wait!” called one of the Epopts; she was a middle-aged woman, her thick red hair in a neat braid down one shoulder. “Who are you?” she asked. “I know a Troian raised woman when I hear one.”

“No one,” Elena answered without turning back, continuing through the exit.

The Epopt looked to Kain, confusion knitting her brow. But she did not say anything further, only frowning as Kain left. He hurried to catch up to Elena.

Elena was silent, shushing Kain once when he tried to question her. Together, they left the castle, following the road into the town.

“Will we go back to the ship, then?” Kain asked, as she hesitated by a crossroads. South led further into town, west into the dense woods, north back to the castle where they had come from, and east to the airship landing field – the only place to land anywhere in Troia Forest.

“No,” Elena said, with a nod to herself, as if she’d just made the decision. “There’s more to learn here.” She started down the western path.

Kain followed. The road narrowed to no more than a well-worn footpath, weaving around the trees. “Where are we going?” Kain finally asked, ducking under a dangling tree limb that hung over the path.

“Troia’s graveyard,” Elena answered, as the path emerged into a large clearing. A large garden sprawled out in messy, inexact rows, a disorienting mix of colors and fragrances. Plants grew haphazardly around large garden trellises, vines extending and reaching all around them.

“What do you mean?” Kain asked, but as they drew closer, he saw the headstones hiding within the growing garden, peeking out between blooming rose bushes and dangling ivy. At the center of the garden was a massive tree, and Kain saw similar headstones between the great roots of the tree. “What is this place?” Kain could not keep the awe out of his voice.

“Troians give their dead back to the earth, to nourish new life,” Elena said. She yanked off her helmet, turned her face up to the sky, and stood still a moment. Kain wondered if she prayed. “Come,” Elena said, looking back at Kain She tucked her helmet up under her arm. “I want to show you something.”

With Elena leading, they made their way through the garden, following a path Elena seemed to know well. They stopped before one large garden trellis; in it, grew a large green leafy bush, with thin vines reaching outward, toward the sun. Heart-shaped petals hung delicately from each vine, looking like a precious trim of lace. The petals were vibrantly red, looking startlingly dark against the light green backdrop.

A headstone was positioned in front of the trellis, and when Kain leaned, saw it read simply Leonhart. He glanced up at Elena. “Is this our family’s?”

Elena smiled. “Yes,” she looked at the plant, touching careful fingers to a petal. “It’s called a Bleeding Heart. Appropriate, don’t you think?”

Before Kain could answer, he heard footsteps behind him. He whirled around, lance drawn, to find one of the Epopts on the path, looking wide-eyed at them both.

“Elena Leonhart,” the red-haired Epopt said the name like an accusation. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“You sound disappointed, Sylvia,” Elena replied, as she turned to meet the Epopt. In the exposing light of the day, Elena’s skin was oddly sallow, although there were no patches of decay on her face or her visible neck – the rest of her was protected by the dark knight armor.  Her eyes were black; an endless, lightless void that made most people look away. Elena looked something like a vengeful wraith, Kain thought.

“No, but I can be confused,” Sylvia retorted. “You died twenty years ago.”

“Only a rumor. I was merely gone, and now I’ve returned,” Elena lied too easily for Kain’s comfort. “I should have come to see you sooner,” Elena added, this time softer. “I’ve missed you.”

“Your charms won’t work on me anymore, Elena,” Sylvia said, pointedly, her chin lifted in defiance. “Why are you here under Baron’s banner, making impossible demands?” She looked at Kain, eyes narrowed. “And who is this?”

“My son,” Elena said, surprising Kain with her honesty; he’d expected her to lie about his identity as well. “Kain.”

“Your son…” Sylvia repeated, as if she did not quite believe it. She looked at Kain more closely, and despite the protection of his armor, Kain felt oddly exposed under her scrutiny. Sylvia then shook her head abruptly, dispelling whatever thought had been there. “It doesn’t matter,” she said shortly. “Your search here is in vain, I’m afraid.”

“I know the Crystal isn’t here,” Elena said abruptly, drawing Sylvia’s startled look back. “I know a powerful creature managed to get into the castle, stole the Earth Crystal, and disappeared with it into the forest. I know it slaughtered the few soldiers who happened upon it and can use Black magic. And what I want to know now, is where did the Crystal go? Where have your scouts tracked it to? Who has spied it?”

“I don’t know,” Sylvia said, too honestly. “There are rumors and theories, but so far the Crystal has been unrecoverable.” She paused, considering both Kain and Elena openly. “The Captain of the Guard would know more,” she finally said, sounding almost hesitant.

“Who is that?” Elena asked carefully, sensing the trap.

“Cassia,” Sylvia said with a wince.

“Ah, shit,” Elena huffed, kicking the ground in frustration. Kain thought it oddly sacrilegious, considering they stood upon soil fertilized by their ancestors’ decaying bodies. “This will be harder than I thought.”

“I can’t let you back into the castle,” Sylvia said with regret. “You’ll have to catch her off duty.”

 Elena sighed. “The usual haunt?” she asked.

“Some things never change,” Sylvia replied with a shrug. “Even after twenty years.”

“Guess we’ll be staying in Troia longer than we thought,” Elena said, this time aside to Kain.

“Don’t seek me out after this,” Sylvia said, tone gone more serious with the warning. “Get the information you need from Cassia and leave Troia. I cannot be seen with you.”

“I know,” Elena said, sounding oddly dejected. “You’re right – some things never do change, no matter how many years have passed.”

Sylvia looked wounded by the remark but did not reply to it. Instead, she turned away, to head back through the garden path. “Goodbye, Elena,” she said, without a backward glance.

Elena watched her, gaze lingering on Sylvia until she disappeared into the distant tree line.

“Are you going to explain?” Kain asked when Elena finally looked back at him. The entire conversation had been frustrating, with Kain not knowing who they spoke of.

“Yes,” Elena said, closing her eyes briefly. “But first, let’s get a room at the inn. We won’t be able to get in to see Cassia with our armor, or looking how we do.” She looked Kain up and down in quick assessment. “With the right costume, you might pass as Troian.”

“Costume?” Kain asked, feeling suddenly sheepish.

“It’s about time you get in touch with your Troian roots,” Elena said with a smirk.

It was less of a costume, Kain mused cynically, and more like an art project gone wayward. He stood in front of the mirror and barely recognized himself. Elena had painted climbing vines up Kain’s back, torso, and arms, ending in splashes of different colors, vaguely resembling flowers. His face was a vibrant yellow, and with his long blond hair brushed out, he looked like the sun shining down on blooming flowers. He wore no shirt, only dark brown trousers; the earth beneath the plants, he realized.

Elena had worked quickly, grumbling about not being able to take her time with it. Finally, she had stood back and declared, “It will have to do.”

For herself, she’d painted her face silver. On her arms and legs, she did similar vines as Kains, only hers had bursts of dark purple; their placement seemed random at first, but then Kain realized she’d been covering her patches of decayed skin, well hidden in each flowers’ center. She was his opposite, the moon lending its glow to night-blooming flora. She wore similar trousers, but wore a short white blouse, its open collar trimmed with delicate lace. With her black hair down around her shoulders, the effect looked like a cloud in the dark sky, passing under one of the moons.

“Why?” Kain had asked when she explained the plan. “Why not just go in, dressed as normal?”

“We’ll only pass as the Pub’s employees one of two ways: either made over as pretty art to look at and admire, or nearly naked, meant to be openly… appreciated. Which would you prefer?” Elena had told him, blunt and frank.

Kain retracted his protest then.

As Elena had worked, she quietly told Kain of the history between herself, Sylvia, and the mysterious Cassia. “Cassia and I were rivals for Sylvia’s affection. It got heated more than once, and we fought in the streets like drunk tourists. In the end, Sylvia didn’t pick either of us, deciding instead to follow the holy path of the Epopt, and forsaking all other loves except the adoration of our Earth mother.”

“Is that why you left Troia?” Kain had asked her. “When you said you had your heartbroken?”

Elena hadn’t answered, working on in silence, and Kain let the question die mercifully.

Feeling frightfully exposed but curious about Troia’s so-called underground market, now Kain followed Elena through the market square. As they walked, they drew more than a few curious glances, but Kain ignored them, keeping his eyes steadfastly forward. As they approached one of the many pubs in the area, Kain was impressed by the size of it.

Outside, a group of dancers stood by the door. As Elena had foretold, their clothing was barely a suggestion, small garments clinging tight, barely covering hips and torsos. Kain was suddenly grateful for the paint on his face, knowing he blushed deeply, feeling the heat in his cheeks.

The dancers lingered awhile longer, before someone shouted from inside. Elena gestured for Kain to follow, and fell in line behind the last dancer, going back inside the pub. Inside, they didn’t go into the pub proper, which was packed with people, but instead headed to the back, where a woman stood beside a closed door. Kain watched as a man approached and offered the woman a slip of paper. She looked it over carefully, handed it back to him, then opened the door, stepping aside to let him pass.

At the sight of the dancers, she opened the door again, holding it ajar as the dancers lined up to enter. As Kain and Elena drew closer, the woman held up her hand. “Hold on. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“A new contract,” Elena said, not defensively but only matter of fact. “Tonight’s our first night in public.” And when the woman did not budge, Elena heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Please don’t ruin this for us. The Captain requested us personally.”

“Cassia?” the woman asked, sounding surprised. She looked Kain up and down, shaking her head. “Him?” she asked, skeptical.

Elena leaned in and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, but still loud enough for Kain to hear. “She likes to make him watch.”

It took Kain a moment to realize Elena’s implication, and as understanding dawned, he blushed again, feeling his face grow hot under the paint, and shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

“See?” Elena prompted, nudging the woman with her elbow. “He’s red to his roots. She loves it.”

“I’ll bet she does,” the woman agreed with a chuckle, stepping aside to allow them entry.

“That wasn’t necessary,” Kain said with a low grumble, once they were clear of the door.

“But it worked,” Elena shrugged, indifferent to Kain’s discomfort. “Stay close, and don’t wander off.”

Together, with Elena leading, they made their way down the narrow hall, which ended abruptly, with stairs leading downward. They took the stairs, and as they emerged on the lower floor, Kain’s eyes struggled to adjust to the dim, indoor lighting. Another half-flight of stairs brought them further downward, and then the hall opened.

Inside was a large room crowded with tables and chairs, most of them filled with men, while scantily clad waitresses made their way around the obstacles, delivering fresh drinks and clearing the emptied cups. Private booths lined the back wall, and up front was a large stage, with three oversized thrones spaced evenly apart. No one danced currently, but Kain supposed that was because the dancers were just returning.

“Let’s go,” Elena whispered to Kain, tugging on his elbow to shake him from his daze. She led him to the back of the room, where the booths were. As Elena passed by one table, a man reached out, grabbing at her backside. Elena whirled around, catching his hand by the wrist, holding it at sharp angle.

“Hey!” the man protested, trying to draw his hand back. “Leggo of me,” he slurred, quite obviously too drunk. “I’m jus’ looking fer a little fun.”

“I’m not here for you,” Elena hissed, low under her breath. “Keep unwanted hands to yourself and find your fun elsewhere.” She released his wrist, which he cradled to his chest but said nothing else.

Elena continued, leading Kain to the booth in the corner closest to the stage. Seated within was a woman, her brown hair cropped short at the nape of her neck. She sat alone, although there were three full drinks on the tabletop.

The woman looked up at Kain and Elena’s arrival, but did not seem surprised, only smiled wide. “Elena,” she said, gesturing for her to enter. Elena slid into the booth’s opposite side, far enough in to grant Kain room to sit as well. Unable to shake the feeling that this might be a trap, Kain reluctantly sat beside her. “You’ve gotten all dressed up for me?” the woman asked.

“You were expecting me,” Elena said; it was a statement, not a question. “Then Sylvia has already told you what I’m after.”

“But I want to hear you ask,” the woman insisted. She picked up one of the drinks and took a generous gulp. “It’s been literal decades since I’ve had something you wanted, please indulge me.”

“Cassia,” Elena said, stressing the name impatiently. “Where is the Earth Crystal? You can prevent Troia’s destruction if you simply tell me.”

Cassia scoffed. “Baron’s war machine won’t fare well here. The environment is in our favor and will shelter us. Those who do make it to our castle will be met with blades and arrows.”

“We won’t even land,” Elena said, her voice gone ice cold. “What I said to the Epopts wasn’t an exaggeration. Golbez will raze the whole forest and all within it. Whoever isn’t burned alive or dead from breathing smoke will bear witness to the dead rising from the earth, and that will be the army that destroys Troia from the inside.”

Cassia said nothing, her mouth in a flat, thin line.

“Tell me where the damn Crystal is!” Elena demanded, slamming her fists down on the table, making it rattle.

“You would destroy our home? Your home?” Cassia asked; it was a genuine question, and she leaned in, elbows on the table, as she waited for Elena’s answer.

“The Earth Archfiend will claim all,” Elena whispered. On the stage, the curtain opened to a line of dancers, arms linked as they began their routine. The cheers of the audience nearly drowned her out as she continued, “I’ll watch personally as his undead minions tear you apart, leaving behind only bloody scraps once they were done with you.”

“You’re mad, Elena,” Cassia murmured, more to herself than to Elena. She looked at Kain, eyes suddenly curious as she considered him. “Your son looks like the light version of you, although that could be the paint. What did you say his name is?”

“Kain,” Kain answered, not wanting to be a silent bystander in this exchange. “And Elena is right.” It felt odd to say Elena’s name; it would be stranger still to call her Mother, though, Kain reasoned. “Golbez will destroy everything and everyone if you do not hand over the Earth Crystal.”

“You are an unholy abomination,” Cassia said, her tone neutral, regarding Elena again. “And you must be purged from this world.” Cassia looked past them, nodding to someone else. As Kain turned to see who it was, he was seized by the shoulders, and dragged roughly from the booth. He stumbled, trying to gain his feet, and just as he became steady, he saw Troian guards closing in on him. Two grabbed him by the arms, forcing him down to the floor. Through their legs, he saw Elena in her own struggle, as she fought against both Cassia and a guard. Then, the world went dark and stuffy, as a guard pulled a bag over Kain’s head.

“Behave, Elena,” Kain heard Cassia say, though muffled through the bag. “Or your precious boy might find himself lost in the woods.”

“Let him go!” Elena shrieked; her voice high in panic.

The two guards kept Kain pinned on the floor, while a third bound his hands behind his back, effectively disarming him.

“That depends entirely on you,” Cassia said, infuriatingly calm. “Cooperate and I’ll have him delivered back to your ship. If not…” Cassia sounded as if she were truly indifferent. “Well, perhaps somewhere else.”

Kain heard Elena go still, stopping her struggle. Kain was lifted into the air, then slung up and over someone’s shoulder. He dangled there, helplessly disoriented by being both sightless and upside-down. “Mother!” he called out, as he felt himself moving away.

“Get Joanna’s girl out of Zot!” Elena shouted, somewhere distant. “Get her to safety!”

Kain thrashed, despite the dizziness, and the guard carrying him nearly dropped him. Then, Kain felt cool hands touching his forehead, then the soft suggestion, “Sleep…” Magic threads seized him, pulling his consciousness downward, into a forced sleep.

Kain awoke on the airship field, sunlight in his eyes finally stirring him back to wakefulness. He blinked through the brightness as his eyes slowly adjusted. Kain looked down at himself and found that he was dressed in the clothing he’d left behind at the inn. Beside Kain was his armor, in a neat row.

Kain looked up, peering around, but only saw the Crimson Strike, waiting to be boarded. “Elena?” Kain called out, and when he heard nothing, “Mother?” he tried instead, but still no response. Kain looked down the western road that connected the field to Troia Village. Kain stood, determined to go back, to find Elena and rescue her from whatever devious thing Cassia had planned.

Come back to me, my pawn, Golbez commanded from the depths of Kain’s mind, suddenly asserting his presence. There is much to be done.

“But…” Kain started to protest, then felt sharp needles sinking into his mind, probing deep. Kain stumbled, his head in his hands, then collapsed to his knees, unable to endure the pain.

After what felt like an eternity, Golbez relented. The needles leaving were more painful than going in, as their razor barbs dragged out, leaving deep, oozing wounds in Kain’s consciousness. Return to me, Golbez repeated, although he did not have to.

“Yes Master,” Kain answered as he staggered to his feet and turned away from the road leading back to Troia. Instead, he picked up his armor, holding it awkwardly in his arms, then made his way toward the ship.

Chapter Text

Again, Kain returned to the Tower of Zot.

It called to Kain, not as a seductive woman, but as a stern father, ready to judge the returning son for his failures. Kain stood in the tower’s cold shadow and suppressed a shudder of dread, trying to ignore his terror at what awaited him inside.

The Tower of Zot, with its strange interior walls and floors of too perfectly aligned brown stones, unnerved Kain in a way he could not articulate. The walls were carved with designs and patterns from a culture Kain did not recognize, and held large, spinning gears, propelled by the perpetual wind within. It felt otherworldly, in an uncanny way that made Kain uneasy.

At the top of the tower was Golbez’s war room, where the sorcerer would likely be. Kain felt an urgency to find Golbez, and wondered if that was his own organic impulse, or if Golbez prompted him to hurry. He hastened past patrols of monsters – more of Barbariccia’s creatures, no doubt. Knights in dark armor that hid their grotesque bodies walked alongside immense turtles with deadly spikes on their shells.

As Kain climbed the stairs to another floor, the air carried a strange odor. The pungent smell grew thicker as Kain continued up, until he found himself suddenly short of breath. He stopped, leaning against the wall of the narrow staircase, struggling to fully inhale.

The artificial lighting overhead seemed dimmer, Kain thought, his sluggish brain struggling to comprehend. As his eyes watered, Kain realized that the room was filling with Gas. He had enough presence of mind to recall the effect: Curse, a weakening of all things – physical, mental, magical.

Kain staggered and caught himself on the stairs, his head rattling within his helmet, teeth clicking painfully. With his weak muscles protesting, Kain climbed the remaining stairs on his hands and knees, his armor feeling impossibly heavy. He managed the last step, then stumbled into the room, greedily gulping the clean air.

But there was a new smell with the grateful lungfuls – the smell of damp earth. Kain looked up to see Scarmiglione, cloaked as always in his dingy funeral shroud, pointing a clawed finger in accusation. “You lost all my power!” Scarmiglione rasped, outraged. “You left behind my champion and the Earth Crystal, do you know what you’ve cossssst me?”

Before Kain could answer, Scarmiglione lunged forward, throwing Kain against the wall, surprising Kain with his inhuman strength. A twisting tentacle emerged from the dark of Scarmiglione’s shroud and yanked at Kain’s helmet until it came free. Scarmiglione tossed the helmet aside, then pushed the tentacle against Kain’s throat, cutting off his air.

“I will watch the light in your eyes sssssputter out and die,” Scarmiglione rasped beside Kain’s ear, cold breath tickling his exposed neck. “Then I’ll drag you back and do it again.” Scarmiglione’s tentacle leaned harder against Kain’s throat, and Kain’s vision dimmed.

Scarmiglione’s hood had fallen back, and for the first time, Kain saw Scarmiglione’s face. His skin had rotted and peeled away from two thirds of his face, exposing red muscle and white bone beneath. His bony jaw held a mouth full of terrible, sharp teeth, his nose entirely gone, and one eye missing, the socket empty. The other eye, filmy and yellow, watched Kain’s assessment with amusement. Kain saw faint movement but could not make it out at first; he squinted, looking closer, and saw little white worms – maggots wriggling within the decaying flesh. Kain’s stomach churned, threatening to come up his throat.

“Enough,” Barbariccia’s voice was all around them, chiding but gentle. She materialized beside Scarmiglione, sighing with sympathy. “Master Golbez will be furious with you if you hurt his precious pawn.”

“He will find another,” Scarmiglione hissed. His grip loosened, however, his tentacle no longer squeezing Kain’s neck.

Kain gasped in a relieved breath, while Barbariccia frowned. “So will you,” she said, pointedly. “Do not mourn Elena Highwind so deeply – you will find a better champion. And once we’ve finally acquired the Earth Crystal, your increased power will only heighten your resurrection skills.”

Scarmiglione took a step back, releasing Kain entirely. “Perhaps a white mage?” Scarmiglione suggested, as he pulled his hood back up, masking his horrifying face. “For you, I’ll make her first death especially gruesome.”

“Leave Rosa alone—” Kain started to say, but Barbariccia’s loud hushing beside his ear made him stop abruptly.

Scarmiglione laughed, a dark, wheezy chuckle. “When he sees the girl next, do you think he’ll demand the same of Master Golbez?”

“Enough, Milon,” Barbariccia said, this time more sternly, stressing emphasis on the more familiar name. “Kain knows not to make demands on our Master.” She looked at Kain, brow furrowed. “No matter what he may witness,” she added, this directly to him.

Kain swallowed hard, unsure of what they spoke of – was Rosa being mistreated? He wondered but did not ask, only nodding because he knew Barbariccia expected it.

“Good,” Barbariccia said, seemingly satisfied. “Now, Golbez requires your presence.”

“What news?” Scarmiglione asked.

Barbariccia smirked, pleased with herself. “I’ve finally located Cecil Harvey, approaching Mount Ordeals. I’m guessing Master Golbez will want you for this mission, Milon. Slay the Dark Knight and take him for your new champion if you want. Take the girl too, and then you’ll have a pair. Do this for Master Golbez and you can have whatever you desire.”

“Yesssss…” Scarmiglione agreed, then turned to walk away. As he did, the shadows under his hood shifted, and Kain saw Scarmiglione’s face again, his bony teeth pressed together in a horrible smile.

Kain shuddered, unable to help himself.

Scarmiglione, seeing Kain’s reaction, paused. His smile widened, his mouth open to an empty, black void within. “Come along, Kain. Don’t want to keep our Master waiting.”

“Come forth, Scarmiglione!” Golbez’s deep voice commanded them, as Scarmiglione and Kain entered the war room. It was strangely dark, despite the daytime hours, with all the tower windows closed and only a single lamp on the table, lending its light in a wide circle that did not include the room’s corners. Kain could not make out if anyone else was present.

Kain assumed Barbariccia lurked somewhere, perpetually eavesdropping. Golbez stood over a table with a large, detailed map of the world unfurled on it. Small figurines were placed throughout, in tight groups – airships, knights on chocobos, a few Dragoons, some strange creatures Kain did not recognize. The area between Baron and Mist had been drawn over, crudely indicating the new terrain.

“Scarmiglione of Earth, at your command,” Scarmiglione responded formally, bowing low before Golbez.

“Cecil aspires too much,” Golbez said; he leaned over the map, tapping it for emphasis. “He ascends Mount Ordeals as we speak.” Golbez looked up from the map, addressing Scarmiglione directly only. He did not even spare a glance toward Kain, as if Kain did not exist yet. “I shall clip his wings now.”

“So, he desires to become a paladin,” Scarmiglione said, the air thick with the smell of soil.

“Dispose of him,” Golbez commanded with a casual wave of his hand. “His dark sword should be all but useless against your undead.”

“I shall return with his head,” Scarmiglione said, words weighty with the promise. He bowed again, then turned to go. As Scarmiglione passed Kain, he hissed low, “This isn’t over.”

“This is getting interesting, wouldn't you say, Kain?” Golbez asked, amused – but at what, Kain was not certain. Golbez beckoned Kain closer. Hesitant, Kain stepped closer; he saw the full layout of the table now. A second map was next to the first, but it was not any territory Kain recognized, with its strange orange oceans. Golbez moved most of the airship figures from Baron over to an unknown castle, with a large tower beside it. Then, Golbez picked up the lamp and moved it to the opposite side.

As the swinging shadows settled, Kain saw the side of the room that had previously been dark. A tall wooden cross stood at the wall, a figure standing against the post. For a terrible moment, Kain thought it was Marion, her dead gaze accusing him again. But as the light flickered, Kain saw golden glints, like a crown around the person’s head. Without thinking, he picked up the lamp himself, directing the light toward the cross.

Rosa.

With her arms behind her, Rosa was tied to the post, wearing a crude gray prisoner’s shift, her hair hanging in limp locks around her shoulders. As Kain started toward her, Rosa shook her head quickly, then nodded upward. Kain looked up, and saw now that a large, curved blade hung ominously over her head, held in place at the crossbeam.

Don’t, Rosa mouthed, her blue eyes full of fear.

Golbez wanted them both here, Kain realized, using each to torture the other. What did Golbez get out of this, Kain wondered, to what end did Golbez seek out such hurt and humiliation? Moreover, how could they escape Golbez’s twisted games of warfare and mental torment? Would Rosa or Kain leave this tower alive?

Suddenly, fiercely, Kain missed Cecil. He had always been the one to plan and decide how they would proceed, and Kain desperately wanted Cecil’s wisdom and guidance again. Cecil could figure a way out of this, with Rosa unharmed and Kain fully back to his senses, without Golbez’s influence.

Kain turned back to Golbez. The lamp swung with the movement, casting wild shadows through the room. As the light settled, Kain saw Golbez again; he had taken off his helmet, and now regarded Kain with serious gray eyes that only made Kain miss Cecil even more.

“Cecil might still prove to be quite a formidable opponent,” Kain said, breaking the tense silence. It was a gamble, to bait Golbez so openly, but Kain had an idea – a dangerous idea, but an idea, nevertheless.

“You dare question my judgment?” Golbez asked, quiet but menacing.

“No, sire!” Kain said quickly, inwardly wincing at the prospect of Golbez’s anger, expecting the needle prick of pain into his mind.

“Scarmiglione is one of the four Elemental Lords,” Golbez continued, as if he spoke to a child. “He will not fail.” Golbez looked past Kain, to Rosa behind him. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Rosa will bear witness as well,” Golbez said; it was both a statement and an order.

“Sire, please grant me a second chance!” Kain hated how he sounded, like he was begging; it didn’t matter. All he needed was for Golbez to send him on this mission, so Kain could find Cecil. Together, they could fix this terrible mess.  “Instead of Scarmiglione, allow me the task of slaying him!” Kain blurted out. He heard Rosa’s sharp inhale of surprise from behind him and hated himself for it.

“Just be grateful I let you live after your blunder,” Golbez said, looking back to the map. He waved at Kain dismissively.

Kain said nothing.

“Cecil...” Rosa called out softly from the darkness.

Kain ignored her, pretending he did not hear, and it did not break his heart. He turned away from Golbez and his machinations, from Rosa and her misery. He just needed to think of another way, Kain told himself, to get out of the tower and find Cecil before Scarmiglione did. With only his dark blade to defend himself, Cecil would be no match for the Archfiend. Kain would rescue Cecil, and together, they’d rescue Rosa. He just had to figure out how, without Golbez’s awareness lurking nearby.

Kain left the war room, and as he descended the stairs and exited into the lower floor, he nearly collided into another body. Taking an abrupt step back, Kain saw it was Richard, wearing his black dragoon armor, looking like a hell demon.

“Kain,” Richard said, sounding relieved. He leaned in closer, his voice lowered to a whisper. “You saw Rosa?”

Kain nodded, not trusting himself for words.

Richard reached out and took Kain’s gauntlet and pressed something into his palm, then closed his fingers around the object.

“Wh—” Kain started to ask, but Richard held a finger up, and mutely shook his head. Kain glanced into his hand and saw a small brass key. He looked back up to Richard, who nodded up toward the war room door.

“Barbariccia reports unrest in Baron, with both soldiers and civilians,” Richard said, his voice normal. “Golbez will leave tomorrow, to re-establish control and prepare for the attack on Troia.” Richard paused carefully, then continued more quietly, “While he’s gone, your assignment is to guard the prisoner.”

Richard’s mention of Barbariccia reminded Kain of the stirring wind constantly present in Zot, and Kain realized why Richard was being so cautious with his words.

“Why?” Kain asked, unable to ask anything else without risk. How could they communicate with Barbariccia possibly listening?

Richard seemed to understand anyway. He reached up and pulled off his helmet, holding it at his side. “Why?” Richard echoed. Kain saw Richard’s weary eyes and concerned brow. “Who else?” Then, he mouthed the word: Joanna.

“Still?” Kain asked, surprised. Did Richard still feel an obligation to Joanna? Some sort of paternal affection for Rosa, whom he missed watching grow up? Was Richard’s obsessive love for Joanna the same sort of sick desperation Kain felt about Rosa and Cecil?

“Always,” Richard answered solemnly, then put his helmet back on. “Go, and rest for your first shift.”

Kain nodded in understanding. He turned to leave, but Richard’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “You cannot fail again,” he said, words heavy with warning. “Golbez’s tolerance for you grows thin.”

“I won’t,” Kain replied, hoping it could be true.

Golbez left as the morning sun came up and shed enough light in the sky for takeoff. Kain watched the Red Wings ship disappear into the clouds around them. He waited there for a long while, as if afraid they might come back. But then the thought of Rosa, helpless and scared, came to mind, and that made him hurry off the dock and back inside.

Kain walked carefully through the tower. He’d left his armor behind and moved more quietly. He hoped it was enough to keep Barbariccia unaware of his movements through the tower, then wondered if it didn’t matter, if she waited, amused at his pathetic attempts at heroism.

Kain held his breath as he unlocked the door and slipped into the room. The wall sconces had been left lit, perpetually burning with either advanced technology or magic, Kain was not sure. He only knew Golbez left the room like this on purpose, so Kain could not avoid looking at Rosa while he stood guard, and so Rosa could see him.

Rosa was where he had last seen her, bound to the cross with the wicked blade overhead. She looked up as Kain entered, and Kain saw her uncertainty and cursed himself for it, for having gone so far that Rosa could not tell if he was ally or adversary. He was not even sure himself.

“How does it work?” Kain asked, moving toward her. Immediately, Rosa looked relieved, and that eased his guilty heart somewhat.

“There’s a catch holding the blade in place,” Rosa said. “You need to—”

Kain held up his hand and Rosa stopped. Kain gestured vaguely around him, trying to indicate Barbariccia somehow, but Rosa only looked confused. Kain pulled his hair forward over his shoulder, then fanned it loosely over his chest. He waved his arms around, trying to imitate Barbariccia’s suggestive wiggling, but stopped at Rosa’s suppressed giggle.

Rosa bit her lip to keep further laughter contained, then nodded in understanding.

Kain approached her slowly, as if afraid that any sound might betray him. Rosa’s wrists were bound behind her, but it was a simple knot; Kain easily plucked it loose.

Rosa, with her hands freed, took several cautious steps away from the cross. The blade overhead remained still. She met eyes with Kain, then gestured toward the door. Kain took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers; she squeezed back. Together, holding each other’s hands, they left the room.

Kain led Rosa silently through the tower. He kept wanting to look back, to assure himself that she was still there, but knew he had to keep his eyes ahead and guide them to safety. He knew the patrols and their routes well and knew what halls to take to avoid them. They made slow progress through the tower.

Finally, they came to Kain’s intended destination: the chocobo stables. Letting of Rosa, Kain grabbed a fresh Sword Rat from the stall, and headed outside. Looking perplexed, Rosa swallowed her questions down and followed.

Outside, Kain held the Sword Rat up into the air and shook it, sending the smell of its blood into the surrounding winds. He was rewarded with a triumphant bellow overhead, a streak of dark blue coming closer. Val swooped down and plucked the Sword Rat out of Kain’s hands with her grasping talons.

Rosa was already shaking her head.

“We can’t take an airship,” Kain said, out loud. “They’re too guarded.”

“Shh!” Rosa shushed, a finger to her lips.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Kain said, watching as Val tussled with her food, rolling under and over it, shredding the Sword Rat’s belly with her claws. “Barbariccia will have heard the dragon. She’ll come soon to investigate. We either leave on the dragon right now or we don’t leave at all.”

Kain saw Rosa’s struggle between dual fears of either staying or leaving. Neither prospect must seem good to her, Kain thought.

“You might kill us both,” Rosa stated, matter of fact. “But it’s riskier to stay here.”

“C’mon, Val,” Kain called to the dragon, with a confidence he did not feel. Could he really ride a dragon? While she was still a youth, she looked large enough to easily carry them both. She stopped playing, head perking up at Kain’s call. “You ready for a ride?” he asked, wondering if she understood.

There were varying theories on how intelligent dragons might be. Some proposed that all dragon species were little more than animals or monsters, while others believed dragons to be more advanced thinkers than even people. Kain wasn’t sure what he thought, he only hoped Val could understand. Then, Val rolled to her belly, and Kain lit with hope.

Carefully, Kain swung a leg over Val’s back, then settled down. He gestured to Rosa, who climbed on behind him. She circled her arms around Kain’s waist and clung tight to his back. He tried to ignore the feeling of her body pressed against him, focusing on only the task at hand. He leaned forward against Val’s neck and said, “Fly.”

Like a loose arrow, Val took off into the sky, nearly unseating Kain with her suddenness and speed. Kain held on to the edge of Val’s scales going up her neck, fingers straining. Rosa held on tight behind him, fervently praying.

The wind buffeted them, sending Kain’s hair whipping around his face and neck. Rosa buried her face against his back, to protect herself from the greedy winds. Val flapped her wings and eagerly sped toward the thick clouds around the tower.

For one glorious moment, Kain felt a taste of true freedom, as the Dragoons did in the days of old, riding their own dragons. With the bright sun on his back and fresh air in his lungs, Kain dared to hope he might finally leave Golbez and Zot behind. He’d find Mount Ordeals and help Cecil slay Scarmiglione, eliminating that horror from the world finally. He and Rosa would sort out their complicated relationship, and finally --

The wind shifted suddenly, throwing Val’s flight off course. Val scrambled to right herself, but the winds pushed hard from the other direction now. Kain looked up in horror as he saw the clouds start to funnel toward them, a column of wind becoming visible. It swirled around them, the winds now violent, and Kain realized they were beside a tornado.

“Did you really think you could leave so easily?” Barbariccia’s angry voice demanded, all around them, booming like thunder. “If I am trapped here, so are you.”

Val struggled to stay level, but the wild winds proved too much, pulling them into the circling tornado. Rosa screamed as she was torn from Val’s back, thrown haphazardly aside, disappearing into the column of whirling wind. Kain was similarly yanked away from the dragon and tossed a different direction.

The tornado stopped abruptly, and Kain found himself falling freely through a clear blue sky. Below, he saw the ocean, sparkling in the morning sun, promising oblivion if he just continued falling.

“Call my name,” Barbariccia demanded, whispering hotly into his ear. “Beg to be saved and swear fealty to me.” Kain seemed to pick up speed, falling faster. “Worship me, and I might spare you.”

The ocean became bigger as Kain fell further; a few more seconds and it wouldn’t matter anymore. Would that be so bad, Kain wondered? His torment would finally end. Kain closed his eyes, trying to imagine never opening them again.

A sudden claustrophobia seized him, stealing the breath from his chest more effectively than the screaming winds around him. His cowardice cried out, unburdened by his imprisoned shame still, terrified at the thought of his impending death; it would drive him to terrible depths and deeds if it only meant his survival.

“Barbariccia!” Kain cried out, voice lost to the surrounding winds. He sobbed her name, dissolving into incoherent pleas for his life, to do anything she wanted, to be devoted, to never again betray her.

The ocean loomed dangerously close, and Kain could taste the salt in the air. Just as Kain was about to hit the churning waves, a strong gust of wind scooped him up, shooting him back up toward the tower. It dropped him unceremoniously on the dock, where Barbariccia stood, crackling with power.

“If I am bound, so are you,” Barbariccia said, her voice low in warning. “While I control the skies, you will not leave here.”

“Rosa…” Kain choked out, pushing himself up off the ground.

“The Delta Sisters are returning her to her place,” Barbariccia told him, as her hair swirled wildly around her. “And you will go to yours.”

“The dungeon?” Kain asked, guessing.

Barbariccia laughed and the sound sent a chill through Kain. “As Richard told you, Golbez gave you an assignment. You are to guard the prisoner.”

“But…” Kain started to protest, not understanding.

“The Tower of Zot is my prison,” Barbariccia interrupted. “And the top of this tower will be yours. You will stay, and watch, and witness her hope wither and die with the news of Cecil’s death. And you will thank Master Golbez for the privilege.”

“Don’t do this,” Kain said, though weakly.

Barbariccia smiled, bearing her fangs with an eerie grin. “Go, Kain, and be the symbol of her torment.” When Kain did not move, Barbariccia hissed, the wind picking up around them again. “Go,” she repeated, the wind cutting into him sharply. “Or I’ll push you off this tower and leave you to your watery grave.”

Kain didn’t answer, only silently went inside, as he was told.

Chapter Text

In the days that followed, Kain endured a new special hell that had been designed just for him. Every morning, he’d report to the tower’s top floor, Golbez’s war room, where the Delta Sisters admitted him inside. The youngest and smallest of the three, Mindy, sometimes danced around his feet, trying to throw him off balance, while Sandy, the eldest, looked down at Kain from her impressive height, and gave report.

But it was the middle sister, Cindy, that worried Kain the most – she watched him with silent, knowing eyes, and Kain had a faint sense of the magic radiating off her. Never wanting to push his luck with any of them, Kain nodded to everything they said, never arguing.

“Enjoy!” the youngest would say, giggling as Kain entered the room. They’d linger outside, peering in until he closed the door behind them. They’d wait out there, to ensure Kain stayed for the entire day.

Waiting for him inside was always Rosa.

The first day and second day, Rosa tried reasoning with Kain. She talked herself hoarse, coming up with elaborate plans to escape Zot and find Cecil together, trying to persuade Kain to help her, just one more time. She tried appealing to his patriotism, to convince him to liberate Baron from its fiendish corrupters; to his sense of justice, to put to rest all those needlessly killed; to his sentimentality of their shared childhood, of their promise to work together to help Cecil, as they had always done.

Guiltily, Kain wondered if she’d resort to more desperate means. How long would she hold onto that card, and what would drive her to finally play it? Kain was unable to help these thoughts, bubbling to the surface unwanted and unbidden. Worse, Kain was not even sure what he would do if she offered herself to him, not knowing how this twisted version of himself might respond, without the burden of shame to stop him.

Kain, for his part, said nothing in reply to Rosa, grateful for the anonymity of his helmet so that they could both pretend he wasn’t always watching her with greedy eyes. He knew, despite all her clever ideas and plans, that they’d never escape Zot, together or separately. Barbariccia would always be there, listening and waiting. And if not her, then there was always Golbez, lurking in the shadows.

Rosa, in her talking, came close to breaking Kain’s resolve only once.

“Let me use Libra,” she said, voice soft and gentle, as if she were speaking to a frightened child. “I can find what Golbez did to you and use Esuna to undo it. And then, with clear heads, we can figure out what to do next.” She eyed the blade above her warily, then looked back at Kain. “This isn’t you.”

Kain genuinely considered it. He recalled all his worrying thoughts and troublesome impulses and how hard he struggled against their villainous suggestions, and how often he’d failed.

This is you, whispered something in the back of Kain’s mind. At first, he thought it was Golbez, poking at him again, but it felt somehow more insidious. You have always wanted to be like this, and now nothing holds you back from being who you truly are.

This is me, Kain agreed, unable or unwilling to fight against it anymore; it was too hard, and he was too tired and too much of a coward to keep trying.

As if she sensed his thoughts, Rosa looked away, then began to silently weep.

The day would eventually end, and Kain was allowed to go and rest, while the Delta Sisters took Rosa back to her prison cell. What happened there, Kain was not sure and did not dare ask.

Kain wasn’t sure why Barbariccia would continue to quarter a prisoner in a windless cell where she did not have ears, but he eventually realized it was not Barbariccia’s decision, but Golbez’s – and he wanted Rosa kept alive, if humiliated, as a bargaining chip against Cecil, should he survive his encounter with Scarmiglione. At first, that seemed unlikely -- Kain had seen Scarmiglione’s power firsthand, and it was terrifying.

However, Kain weakened Scarmiglione by losing Elena and failing to secure the Earth Crystal from Troia. Would that cripple Scarmiglione enough for Cecil to defeat the Archfiend, even with a useless sword? Who would win?

Kain chased his thoughts in circles, unable to find peace, not knowing which outcome he hoped for.

On the third day, Rosa said nothing, only watched Kain with disappointed eyes. She was still tied to the cross, the blade haunting her from above.

Kain thought her sad silence might finally break him; it eventually would have, were it not suddenly interrupted. Barbariccia’s distressed sobs filled the tower’s rooms and corridors, buffeting them all with her incoherent grief and agony.

Kain drew his lance, sinking into a battle stance, while Rosa straightened and asked, “What’s happening?”

“Scarmiglione!” Barbariccia howled, now angry, the perpetual winds within Zot whistling sharply.

“Say nothing,” Kain warned Rosa, stepping ahead of her. It was just in time to meet Barbariccia, her cyclone of hair materializing within the wind that whirled in the room.

“Move!” Barbariccia hissed, fangs bared and yellow eyes wild, looking less human than ever before. “Her blood must spill for Scarmiglione’s death!”

“Cecil bested Scarmiglione?” Kain asked, incredulously, while Rosa murmured a prayer of thanks behind him.

Enraged, Barbariccia knocked Kain easily aside, then pounced on Rosa. Kain crashed to the floor, rattling in his armor, and looked up in time to watch Barbariccia wrap her hand around Rosa’s throat, forcing Rosa’s head up right. Barbariccia’s hair swirled wildly around them; it loosened the knot around Rosa’s binds, then pulled her away from the post, closer to Barbariccia, nearly an embrace.

“You should be thankful to me for the very air in your lungs,” Barbariccia growled next to Rosa’s open mouth. Barbariccia squeezed, tightening her grip on Rosa’s throat. Rosa choked, unable to reply. She pulled at Barbariccia’s hold with desperate fingers but was unable to break it. “See how you fare without it?” Barbariccia laughed, near hysterical. “How will you pray without breath?” she asked.

“Enough,” Kain said, standing back up. “Let her go, Barbariccia.”

Barbariccia didn’t budge, still holding Rosa in place. “I will hang her from the tower’s top like a grand flag. Her corpse will welcome Cecil to the Tower of Zot.”

“Did Master Golbez order this?” Kain asked quickly, trying to ignore the escalating panic in Rosa’s eyes.

That was enough to make Barbariccia pause in her rage. She looked over her shoulder at Kain, her grip relaxing enough for Rosa to draw a strangled breath. “Do not speak to me of orders,” she demanded, but sounded deflated.

“He wants Rosa alive,” Kain said, more confident now. “He will want to use her as leverage against Cecil, who will surely mount a counterattack for her rescue.”

Barbariccia sighed, her hair calming down, now only lightly stirring. “Fine,” she conceded unhappily. “Then I shall spend our time waiting for Cecil’s arrival showing her all the ways he can be killed.” Barbariccia released Rosa’s throat, then cupped the side of Rosa’s face, the gesture surprisingly gentle. “Won’t that be fun?”

Rosa said nothing, only coughed wetly, still trying to catch her breath.

“Barbariccia, don’t—” Kain started to protest.

“Mind your place, Dragoon,” Barbariccia snapped, cutting him off. “Master Golbez returns soon. He will want to see you to discuss the Earth Crystal. With it, he might be able to resurrect Scarmiglione.” Barbariccia released Rosa, who sagged to the floor, still panting. “Put her back,” Barbariccia told Kain, disappearing with a final whirl of her hair.

It was silent, Barbariccia’s departure leaving a vacuum in the room. Rosa looked up from the floor, pushing herself up. “We could leave now,” she said, hoarsely.

Kain stepped closer to the cross, then knelt, retrieving the rope bindings from the floor. Rosa stood as he did and took several backward steps away from him and the cross. She shook her head and whispered, “Don’t do this.”

“I have to,” Kain said, hating her for making this more difficult than it had to be.

“Don’t,” Rosa said, the word harsh through her injured throat. “Don’t do this. Leave with me right now, before they turn you in a monster like them.”

“Enough!” Kain snapped, harsher than he meant; he only wanted her to stop trying to save him. He knew he’d been too warped by Golbez and the Archfiends’ influence and there’d never be any way of coming back from who he’d become. Her continued attempts to persuade him only frustrated Kain now, that she could not accept this was how things had to be. “Maybe I’m already a monster.”

Rosa said nothing, only watched him like a wary animal, not daring to move first.

Kain started for her, hands grasping, but he was slow in his heavy armor. Rosa, faster than him, turned and bolted for the door, yanked it open, and ran heedlessly through. Kain followed and found Rosa standing opposite the Delta Sisters.

“Come to play, have you?” asked Mindy, who bounced up and down eagerly, small daggers flashing in her hands.

“What unexpected fun,” remarked Sandy, the long spear in her hand nearly as tall as she was.

“This should be interesting,” added Cindy; it was the first time Kain had heard her speak. She watched Rosa with a strange intensity, long scythe in her grip.

Rosa, with her hands and tongue free, did not hesitate, gathering magic in her cupped palms, haloed in golden light as she cast. Her spell’s target was Cindy, who advanced with her scythe’s long blade hanging overhead, in eerie imitation of the blade from the cross.

Sandy was faster, however; she hung back, casting furiously, and a protective ripple of magic winked around Cindy, a Reflect spell setting in places mere seconds before Rosa’s own spell landed. Rosa’s spell bounced, the concentration of magic reflecting at Rosa. Green bands of magic circled around her, then pulled tight, paralyzing her in place – Rosa’s own Hold spell. It seemed somehow unfair that Rosa’s own cleverness be used against her.

“Okay!” Mindy chimed in; a spell held in clasped hands. “Here it comes!” she announced, flinging her arms out, green bubbles launching forward. But they did not materialize around Rosa, as Kain expected, but around Cindy, who turned, body angled toward Rosa. Again, the Reflect spell shimmered, sending the green bubbles bouncing off, hitting Rosa instead.

Rosa, still paralyzed by the Hold spell, could only give a pained groan in response, her eyes wide and wild with fear. Cindy now loomed over her, the scythe blade casting an ominous shadow over Rosa’s head.

“Leave her alone,” Kain finally spoke, the words sounding pathetic even to his own ears.

“Yeah, pretty boy?” Sandy asked, leaning on her spear as she peered down at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

Before Kain could answer, Golbez was suddenly present in his mind, Leave them and come to me…. Kain saw Golbez standing on the deck of the Scarlet Prelude as it started to descend toward the Tower of Zot; the close physical proximity made Golbez a heavy weight in Kain’s mind.

Kain took an awkward step backward. “I…” he tried to say but found there wasn’t enough left of his own thoughts to form his own words. “Golbez summons me,” he said instead.

Mindy giggled, dancing around the still frozen Rosa.

“Isn’t that convenient?” Sandy said. With her long arms, Sandy easily picked up Rosa, slinging Rosa’s stiff body over her shoulder.

Mindy snickered. “It’ll be nice to have a target to practice our Delta Attack on.”

“All the better to prepare for Cecil’s arrival,” Cindy said, lowering her scythe.

“Kain…” Rosa managed, muffled through her closed lips. If there was more she was going to say, she could not summon the words with her paralyzed tongue.

Kain, unable to watch any longer, fled from Rosa and whatever fate the Delta Sisters had in store for her.

Kain hurried to the tower’s dock, in time for Golbez to deboard his ship. Behind Golbez was a strange man in a long lab coat, his unkempt hair teased to a comical puff, making him look bedraggled. He wore large red rimmed glasses, the glass reflective in the late morning sun, obscuring his eyes. He followed Golbez off the ship with an animated hop to his step that belied his apparent age.

“And you think the Reverse Gas can be used so?” Golbez asked as Kain approached, not looking at Kain or even acknowledging his presence. “To send a target to the Feymarch instead of summoning one?”

“If my calculations are correct,” the man in the lab coat replied, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Only proper experimentation will prove it one way or another. If…” he paused, peering at Golbez over the rims. “If you’ll allow me liberties with my test subjects.”

“Go to the Tower of Babil,” Golbez said; it was an order. “Rubicante awaits you there. Take whatever liberties you require, Dr. Lugae. But do not kill our prisoners. It would be a waste to lose them,” Golbez said.

Dr. Lugae laughed; a strange, high-pitched giggle that made Kain’s blood run cold. “There’s much that can be done to a person’s body without killing them.”

“And to their mind,” Golbez remarked, but he was not looking at Dr. Lugae anymore, but instead at Kain. “Come, Kain,” he said, gesturing with his gauntlet. “There’s much to discuss.”

Obedient as ever, Kain fell in line behind Golbez as he entered the Tower of Zot.

Rosa was not waiting for them at the top of the tower; the war room was empty. Her absence sent a wave of guilt through Kain, but he was too afraid to wonder what was happening to her, so instead set the worrying thought aside.

Golbez strode confidently toward the table and its unfurled map. It had been untouched since Golbez had last been here, Kain not daring to move or touch any of the figures scattered across the regions of the world. Now, Golbez leaned over the map, and began to move the remaining airship figures from Baron. Now, a crown stood alone, abandoned by its supporting troops.

“I am pulling out of Baron,” Golbez said, almost casually. “There are reports of Cecil traveling through the Devil’s Road in Mysidia; it is a matter of time before he assaults the castle. Cagnazzo will challenge him, but Cecil has grown in power and allies and will likely defeat Cagnazzo.”

“Why?” Kain demanded, surprised by Golbez’s news. “Why not fight for Baron? I thought that…” he hesitated, feeling suddenly childish. He remembered the fantasy that Golbez had offered: Kain on the throne of Baron, Rosa by his side, a loyal dragon in the skies overhead. Had it all been false, to lure Kain to Golbez’s purposes?

“Baron teeters on the brink of civil war. The citizens will gladly help Cecil,” Golbez answered, still moving pieces around. Some went to the dark side of the map, arranged around the image of a tower. “It is not worth the manpower to keep her. Besides.” He paused, peering up at Kain with the empty eyes of his dark helmet. “Why stop at Baron? If all goes to plan, and it will, then the whole world will be under one ruler. Why not you?”

“Why not you?” Kain countered.

Golbez returned his attention to the map. “Because, this goes beyond our world, to worlds beyond our knowledge.”

“How do you know this?” Kain asked. “You are constantly whispering in my ear, but who whispers in yours?”

Golbez froze, a figurine held mid-air by his fingers. He didn’t say anything for a long time, and just as Kain was wondering if he’d been heard, Golbez set the piece down. “That is a question you don’t want answered,” he said, voice dangerous and low.

Don’t you want to know? asked the new voice, curiously poking at Kain’s mind.

“What’s the goal?” Kain asked instead, shying from the dark voice’s probing question, pretending he could ignore it. “Once you have the four Crystals gathered, what then?”

“The way to the moon will be opened,” Golbez said with a prophetic air. “But there are more than four Crystals. There are four Light Crystals above ground.” He tapped the map for emphasis. “And there are four Dark Crystals in the Underworld.”

“The Underworld?” Kain asked, stepping closer to inspect the map again. The dark half wasn’t anywhere Kain recognized – could a place like this really exist?

Golbez placed something on the table, sliding it across to Kain. It was a strange looking rock in the vague shape of a key. “There is a place where it must be offered, and doing so will open a path to the Underworld.”

“What does that mean?” Kain asked. He picked up the stone, turning it over in his hands.

“Know that I prepare for all contingencies,” Golbez said. “If we are… separated, then use that to come find me in the Underworld. We’ll rejoin forces there.”

“But where? Where must this be offered? How will that open a path to the Underworld? And how are you getting there if not with this key?” Kain asked, the questions tumbling out of him without a filter.

“All good questions,” Golbez remarked; it sounded like he smiled within his helmet, “but not your concern unless Cecil manages to divide my forces further.”

“Why am I here?” Kain blurted out without thinking.

“Because I can get you the things you want,” Golbez replied. “Even if you won’t admit you want them.”

“No,” Kain said, shaking his head. “I know why I’m here, but why are you keeping me here? If you need a dragoon, why not my father?”

“I don’t need a dragoon,” Golbez said, as if it were obvious. “Richard is a greedy creature, true, but I need someone who wants this as badly as I do. Someone who will never stop wanting more – more power, more acclaim, more love. Someone who isn’t satisfied with the world as it is.” Golbez paused a moment, then asked, “Is that still you, Kain?”

“Yes,” Kain answered, knowing it was true as he spoke.

Golbez pulled out a small scroll, unrolling it on the table. On it was an illustration of a long, white dragon, more serpent looking than traditional dragons, its head blue with a red fringe and outlines. It startled Kain to recognize the dragon from the fantasies Golbez offered him. Was it a real, living breathing dragon?

“What is this?” Kain asked in a whisper, not daring to say it any louder.

“Leviathan,” Golbez said with a reverential air. “King of the Eidolons. Barbariccia offers you a pet for a dragon, but I offer you this – the best of them all.” Golbez set aside the scroll, looking to the map’s dark side. “Somewhere in the Underworld is the entrance to the Feymarch, where the Eidolons reside. My soldiers haven’t found the entrance yet, but…” Golbez looked up, fixing Kain with his empty gaze again. “There are other ways into the Feymarch.”

“But all the summoners are dead,” Kain said, conveniently leaving out it had been him and Cecil that doomed all of Mist. He thought of the summoner girl and wondered if she lived still. Kain easily shrugged aside the guilty thought. “How will you lure Leviathan out?”

“The summoners are dead, but their knowledge is not,” Golbez said, sounding pleased with himself. “We found instructional books in the ruins of Mist. And Dr. Lugae is a skilled scientist – he will engineer a way for us to reach Leviathan.”

“Us?” Kain asked, surprised.

“Yes, us,” Golbez said. “It will your reward for obtaining the Earth Crystal.” He pointed to Troia on the map. “You must locate the Crystal and figure out how we can obtain it.”

Kain swallowed hard. Going back to Troia seemed like an impossible task. Would Elena still be there, alive – in a manner of speaking? And if dead (again), could he retrieve her corpse to be revived (again), after Scarmiglione’s own resurrection? And, perhaps most importantly, did Kain want Elena back in his life again?

“Yes, Master,” Kain said, as he knew he must.

That night, Kain dreamed, but not his own.

A baby’s distant crying stirred the leaves of the forest’s canopy. It was night and the trees’ branches sent out shadows that mixed and mingled into terrifying shapes. Overhead, the moons gave off only faint light, matching crescent slivers in the sky, barely enough to see by.

Kain stumbled through the forest floor’s overgrowth. The baby’s crying seemed closer, and with no other guidance, Kain followed the sound.

The forest broke around a small clearing, but despite being able to fully see the sky, the surroundings seemed suddenly darker, as if the moons had dimmed. Kain peered up and saw one of the two moons was now a dark red, like an open wound in the skin of the sky.

The baby’s crying increased, now sounding frantic. Kain looked around the clearing and saw a small basket sitting under a tree, between its protruding roots. He started to approach, but something grabbed his hand and pulled.

Startled, Kain looked down and saw the young boy, Theodor, yanking on his arm. “Hide!” Theodor warned with a whisper. “Before they see you and know you’re here.”

With Theodor’s small hand holding his, they ran together back into the forest. Together, they crouched, watching the clearing, listening to the baby’s panicked cries. Kain looked down and found himself a young boy again, but the idea did not seem odd or distressing to his dream-self.

Just as Kain was about to ask what they were waiting for, Golbez emerged from the trees. He did not wear his armor and his silver hair looked darker in the red moonlight. He did not look at or acknowledge the baby, only entered the clearing, walking to its middle. Somehow, his indifference seemed to placate the baby, whose cries abruptly stopped.

“I have three of the Light Crystals,” Golbez announced, but Kain was not sure to whom.

“And the others?” asked a new voice, somehow familiar. It came from nowhere and everywhere, filling the clearing.

“I’m searching every corner of this planet for the remaining five.” Golbez said. “Soon, they will be mine.”

“You mean mine,” the dark voice corrected Golbez. “And with them, I’ll unlock untold power. Do this task for me and prove yourself more than a writhing, pathetic worm.”

Golbez looked aside as he said, “I will do it gladly, my lord.” Was Golbez embarrassed? Chastened? Shamed? Kain could not tell.

“He’s forgotten me,” Theodor whispered beside Kain. “He has gotten so good at hiding me, he really believes I was never there.”

“Who are you?” Kain asked, looking at Theodor. The conversation between Golbez and the mysterious voice continued, only as a dull background murmur. Instead, Kain studied the boy beside him; Theodor had a striking resemblance to Cecil in his youth. Another coincidence?

“You are not the only one with a hidden part of yourself,” Theodor said, frowning.

“Are you… Golbez?” Kain asked, hesitantly.

“Shh!” Theodor hissed in warning.

In the clearing, the conversation stopped. Golbez turned to their direction, eyes squinting to make out the shifting shadows. Kain’s heartbeat filled his ears, drowning out all other sounds, and the moment seemed to drag out endlessly. Eventually, though, Golbez turned away, disappearing back into the trees.

Kain turned to speak to Theodor again, but instead of a young boy, a strange creature loomed over Kain, tall and imposing, cloaked in dark red and purple. He looked alien, with a bald head, purple skin stretched taut over his face and skull. His yellow eyes burned in their intensity, magic radiating off him in pulsing waves.

“Well, what do we have here?” the creature asked, as he reached for Kain, long fingers ending in vicious claws.

Kain screamed – a childish, horrified sound. It echoed in his ears, endlessly reverberating, making him dizzy with the intensity within his head. Kain ran, legs and arms scrambling, desperate to get away, to not be caught by whatever the creature was. The greedy branches of the trees grabbed at him, tugging at his clothing and hair, trying to slow him down. Kain thought he could feel someone’s hot breath on his neck but was too scared to look back to confirm. He tripped over a large, exposed root, then rolled to his back, terrified to see what followed him.

“What are you running from, little dragon?” the creature asked, reaching for Kain again; his large shadow blocked the poor light that came from the moons. “Your hatred boils within you. Don’t you want to see how it can be used?”

Just as the creature was about to reach him, mercifully, Kain woke.

Kain shot up from his sleeping pallet, scrambling to be free from the blankets twisted around his legs. Breathing heavily, he looked around – there was no eerie forest dreamscape, only a room in the Tower of Zot, aglow with the Sanctuary Ward. He expected his breathing to calm down and even out, but he found he still could not get a full breath. The walls and ceiling around him seemed suddenly closer, threatening to press in on him.

Anxiety soaring, Kain ran out of the room and through the halls of Zot. His lungs burned with the effort, muscles begging for respite, but still he ran on, until he burst out of the stables’ doors, into the night air.

Kain leaned down, his hands braced on his thighs, panting heavily. The cold air hurt his throat and chest, but it was a relief to see the open sky again, to know he wasn’t doomed to suffocate within the stone walls of Zot.

Kain looked over the edge of the dock; the sea looked black in the darkness of the night. He wondered if he’d reach the crashing waves before Barbariccia could rescue him. He looked at the Tower of Zot behind him, and the idea of going back inside sent a flutter of panic through Kain. He peered back down at the ocean below – would it be so bad? To finally escape Golbez and Barbariccia? And even Rosa and Cecil, and Kain’s own tortured heart?

Kain inched closer to the edge; the wind teased his air loose, sending the blond strands streaming behind him. It would be so easy, he thought, putting one foot out into the air.

A bellowing cry broke his concentration, and Kain looked up in time to see Val, a blue streak through against night sky, crash into his chest, knocking him back onto the dock. She braced one clawed foot on each of Kain’s shoulders, pinning him down. She snorted, her hot breath blowing through her nostrils into Kain’s face.

“Val!” Kain scolded her, trying to push her off him, but Val remained firmly in place, heavier than Kain without his armor. Resigned, Kain sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking up into her yellow eyes. She blinked slowly, the translucent membrane of her inner eyelid temporarily covering her pupils, but she did move or release her hold. “I’m sorry,” Kain repeated. “I… I wasn’t thinking – I won’t do that again.”

Val snorted again, then shifted off Kain. He sat up, and Val nosed at his arm, until he lifted it, then snaked around him, her body coiling around him, then resting her head on his thigh. She watched him with an intense stare. Kain lowered his arm, resting it on her back.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kain murmured, and that seemed to settle Val, her body releasing some of its tension, relaxing. Kain leaned against her. The acute anxiety he’d been feeling somehow gone now.

“I don’t need a better dragon,” Kain told Val, and Golbez, if he was listening. “You’re enough.”

Val trilled, her throat pleasantly humming with the sound.

Chapter Text

With fresh spring rain, the Forest of Troia came alive. Birds sang lustily, filling the trees with a chaotic song of spring; mischievous Stingrat cubs dashed through branches, showering droplets of rain on their pursing littermates; and the air was filled with the rich scent of blooming flowers and soil.

It surprised Kain to realize it was spring already. It had been autumn when he visited Highwind Manor with Rosa and Cecil, feeling like it happened both yesterday and so long ago. His memory of it felt dreamlike and ethereal, like Kain had imagined how his life used to be, romanticized by nostalgia. How else could have so much have changed so quickly? He must have imagined his remembered happiness, Kain reasoned; he had never been content, after all.

With Barbariccia’s winds whispering in his ear, Kain directed the airship over the vast forest. The wind brought rumors of a strange creature passing through, clutching a shining jewel in its grip; it was wounded, trailing blood behind it. Barbariccia guided him along the wind’s memory of the coppery smell.

They followed it northeast, over a small channel to a large island northeast of the mainland. It was mostly mountains, but cradled protectively within the mountain range was more forest. With no open plains, it would make landing especially difficult, so Kain opted to go down and investigate, solo.

With the airship hovering as low as it could, Kain Jumped the rest of the way down, guided easily by Barbariccia’s gentle currents. Landing soundly, Kain made his way north, to the large cave nestled neatly in the mountain.

At Barbariccia’s urging, Kain approached the cave cautiously, sensing something uneasy, like he was being watched.

“Stay back!” someone hissed from the shadows of the cave’s mouth.

Kain paused, trying to peer inside but unable to make out anything in the black. “Who’s there?” A cold breath blew down his back, the small hairs on the nape of his neck pricking up with Barbariccia’s voiceless warning. “I’m only here for the Earth Crystal,” Kain announced. “If you stand down and surrender the Crystal, I’ll leave you alone.”

“But it’s mine,” the creature within the cave protested, sounding closer. Dim within the dark cave, a soft light began to shine, glowing faintly green, throwing careless shadows between them.

In the slices of light, Kain could make out the creature: a long-limbed elf, clutching the Earth Crystal to his chest, scowling deeply. Kain reached over his shoulder for his lance, drawing it free as he moved forward, closer to the cave.

“Not another step!” screeched the elf, scrambling backwards. He caressed the Crystal, interrupting the spill of light with each clawed stroke. “You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

Kain crossed the threshold into the cave, and at once, the Earth Crystal radiated a riot of different colors, a new magic dense in the air. It made the air seem thicker, Kain thought, then his whole body suddenly felt heavier, and he could not lift his boot for another step.

“Wh…” Kain started to ask, before the immense new weight dragged him to his knees, unable to keep himself upright anymore. He braced against the ground with his arms, trying to keep himself up. Out of the corner of his eye, the dark elf approached.

“You think yourselves so clever, with your poison metal weapons and armor,” the elf stroked the Earth Crystal fondly. “You take precious ores from the ground and shape them into tools of bloodshed. But you forget that the Earth Crystal has dominion over its bounty and knows best how to protect its wielder.”

Could the Earth Crystal truly manipulate its element, including the iron of his armor? Kain wondered, his lungs struggling under the pressure of the oppressive weight.

“You live only for one reason,” the elf said, as he turned away, now blocking the Crystal’s light with his body, throwing the cave back into darkness. “Tell the others: this cave is impassable, and the Earth Crystal is lost.”

Kain tried to watch the dark elf, but he could no longer lift his head. Defeated, he sagged back to the ground,  held in place by the weight of the world.

Embarrassingly, it took several hours for Kain to painstakingly remove each piece of armor, then, once free, to drag each piece of armor back out of the cave and its magnetic field. He was exhausted by the time he finished, and then began the arduous task of re-armoring himself, then finding the airship.

Back on the airship, Kain stewed in his failure, unsure of how he would face Golbez now.

Inside Zot, Barbariccia’s teary wailing filled its rooms. The sorrowful sound followed Kain as he climbed the tower to its top, where Golbez and Rosa awaited him in the war room.

“He defeated Cagnazzo as well. His power continues to grow,” Golbez announced as Kain entered. There was no mistaking which he Golbez meant. “The man has become a force to be reckoned with,” Golbez admitted reluctantly. He frowned at the map on the table; its pieces were noticeably dwindled.

Kain looked over at Rosa, tied to the cross. However, now she held her chin at a defiant angle, and Kain knew that Cecil’s victory over Cagnazzo had heartened her. He was both relieved and dismayed by the change.

Trying to ignore Rosa, Kain turned back to Golbez. “With regards to the final Crystal, my lord—” Kain started to say.

“I am aware of the situation,” Golbez interrupted. “The complications are most troublesome.” Golbez picked up one of the ship figures that had been on Baron’s spot on the map. He started to place the ship near Eblan, then hesitated. It was strange to see Golbez indecisive about anything; it was somehow unnerving to think of Golbez not in control.

“What if you were to have Cecil retrieve it for you?” Kain asked, a germ of idea beginning to form.

“Cecil?” Golbez asked, curious.

“He cannot refuse. We hold Rosa. We could offer an exchange - the Crystal for her life,” Kain suggested. It would be so much easier to be here without Rosa and her damning expectations, Kain thought. And then Rosa and Cecil, together, could figure out how to…

“Indeed...” Golbez interrupted Kain’s train of thought. “And when he brings it to us, we can finish him then.”

Kain swallowed hard. The casual mention of Cecil’s death made his brief hope die.  “I will go and deliver the terms.” He tried to ignore the flutter of his heart at the idea of seeing Cecil again, and what that might mean. Would Cecil know how to save Kain? Would Kain let him? Or would one finally defeat the other, ultimately ending their long-standing rivalry?

“Kain!” Rosa called out unexpectedly.

Kain hesitated, his shoulders sagging. Then, he drew in a deep breath and straightened to his full height. Unwillingly, Kain met Rosa’s intense blue stare. “I am more than Cecil will ever be,” he declared, not knowing what he was going to say until he said it, the words feeling right and justified.  “You'll see that soon enough.”

Rosa opened her mouth to say something else, but Kain was out the door before she could speak.

Meanwhile, Golbez turned back to the map. He reached inside his cloak, and pulled out a new figure: a dragon, rearing back on its haunches, claws bared. He placed it on the Tower of Zot illustration and smiled.

On the deck of the Scarlet Prelude, Kain stood, anxiously waiting to spot Cid’s new ship. They flew high above Baron, masked by surrounding clouds, prepared to descend once the Cid’s ship was sighted. Barbariccia told Kain that the townsfolk of Baron whispered the new ship’s name to one another, Enterprise, all relieved that it wasn’t stamped with Baron’s bloody color of war.

How would Baron fare now, Kain wondered, and who would step into the power vacuum left by Cagnazzo’s death and Golbez’s abandonment? Kain looked around the deck and saw the remaining Red Wings marines – were these monsters or men? Kain did not know and wasn’t sure if he wanted to know, ignoring the guilt that lurked just beneath the surface of his thoughts, letting a new apathy take over.

Kain also ignored the horrible knowledge that he could never return to Baron ever again, his betrayal a still bleeding wound for its people. Now, more than ever, Kain’s fate was tied to Golbez and his designs for the world. Only by Golbez’s victory could Kain be redeemed, and then would everyone realize how right Kain had been all along.

Until then, Cecil would be hailed as a hero in Baron. It burned Kain to think of it, how everyone would compare them as they always had, and decide Cecil had finally won. Worse, Kain’s downfall only highlighted Cecil’s rise, making it seem so much more heroic.

Golbez was right; it was only by Cecil’s death that this would all finally end.

Kain’s thoughts swam in dangerous circles, brutal and pessimistic, animated vividly by the growing hatred that nursed itself fat on his darkest and yet most honest feelings. Kain hated Cecil as intensely as he loved Cecil, the depth of both terrifyingly powerful.

There, Barbariccia breathed, interrupting Kain’s chaotic thoughts, her winds tugging at him insistently, as if she knew what roared through his mind. There is the Enterprise.

Kain looked and saw the airship ascending from Baron. He gestured to the Prelude’s helmsman, who quickly set the ship in pursuit. A white flag had been tied to the ship’s flagpole, in place of Baron’s crest, whipping violently in the moving wind. A second ship followed, the Dragon’s Maw, and together, they slowly descended to the Enterprise.

The Enterprise did not retreat, although it could have easily. Kain saw the sleek body of Cid’s new ship and was genuinely impressed. Cid had been clever in hiding its creation from Odin, and by extension, Golbez. 

The two Red Wings ships came up on either side of the Enterprise. One of the marines lowered the gangway between the decks of both the Enterprise and the Scarlet Prelude, and as Kain stepped onto it, he finally saw Cecil standing on the opposite side. Beside Cecil was Cid and an old man. Yang was behind them, and the sight of the calm monk, freed from his bewitchment, was frustrating. How had Yang escaped when Kain still could not?

Kain knew Cecil had climbed Mount Ordeals but did not realize what that had meant until now, finally seeing Cecil in his shining paladin armor. Cecil wore no helmet, and Kain saw the grim determination on Cecil’s face; it made his stomach drop with dismay. What else had Kain expected?

Cecil had always been beautiful, but out here in the open sky, with sunshine on his face and wind in his hair, Cecil’s radiance seemed somehow unfair. Would Kain always be standing in the shadow cast by Cecil’s brilliant light?

“Kain,” Cecil said, his jaw clenched with tightly controlled anger. It wasn’t a greeting but an accusation.

“So, you did survive, impressive,” Kain said, his smirk belied his sincerity – Kain knew more than most how dangerous Mount Ordeals was. But Kain found he could not help the smug expression and tone.

“Kain, you little maggot!” Cid shouted and started toward Kain, waving his wrench wildly. But Cecil stopped him with no more than an outstretched hand.

“Where's Rosa?” Cecil asked, infuriatingly calm and perfect. “She's safe, I trust,” he added, not a question but an assumed expectation, as if Cecil had never released Kain from his promise to keep Rosa safe, so long ago, despite all that had since happened.

“If you want Rosa back, bring me the Earth Crystal,” Kain said. The wind tugged at his ponytail, streaming the blond strands behind him as Barbariccia whispered her encouragement.

“What?” Cecil asked, hopelessly naïve; he looked like his childhood self, confused by a sudden change of rules in what should have been a familiar game.

“You shameless dog,” the old man spat out.

Realization slowly dawned on Cecil, but instead of anger, he looked only hurt. Can you do this? Cecil’s sad eyes asked the old refrain, this time in accusation.

“I will come to you once you have the Crystal in your possession,” Kain said abruptly, swallowing away the tightness in his throat. “And if Rosa means anything to you,” Kain continued; his lance was suddenly in his hand, swinging forward, “….you'll get that Crystal,” Kain finished, his lance pointed directly at Cecil in emphasis, a direct threat. He meant it, Kain told himself, ignoring how his hand shook, making the lance’s tip tremble.

“How dare you?” Yang cried out; his fists raised.

Kain ignored Yang, turning to go. The message had been delivered, and he had no more to say. Kain could not linger, fearing what it would do to his conflicting impulses to both kill Cecil and to beg Cecil for help. Follow orders, Kain told himself sternly.

“Open your eyes to what you're doing, Kain,” Cecil said, nearly choking on the last, fresh tears in his voice.

Kain paused, head turned just slightly over his shoulder, but refusing to look at Cecil again. Kain knew if he did, he risked his remaining resolve, and still did not know which of his warring desires would win.

“I have nothing else to say to you,” Kain said, stiffly, turning back, knowing himself for a liar; he had so many things he wished he could say.

Kain’s shame, still tucked away inside of him, cried out. Cecil will help us, it implored Kain. He can put to right all that is wrong. He can save you—

No one can save me, Kain told himself as he walked back onto the deck of the Scarlet Prelude. Uncomfortable with its presence, Kain pushed his shame back into its prison, willing it to bound silence once more.

“Where to?” the captain asked, interrupting Kain’s intense thoughts.

“Back to the Tower of Zot,” Kain answered, gruffly.

The Scarlet Prelude’s engines roared to life, the ship shuddering as it moved forward. Kain dared to glance back, just briefly, to see Cecil standing on the Enterprise’s deck, watching as Kain’s ship departed.

I could Jump it, the dangerous thought surfaced. Kain gripped the ship’s railing, trying to estimate the distance. I could escape now, and together, Cecil and I could save Rosa, we could—

Well done, Golbez made his presence suddenly known, radiating approval. I have something for you.

What is it? Kain asked, already knowing but not daring to believe, his inner turmoil forgotten or ignored.

You know. Golbez recognized Kain’s thoughts and feelings better than Kain did.

The image of dragon, long and serpent-like, came to Kain’s mind, white scales glittering across its body, red fins fluttering as he cut through the large ocean waves. The dragon brought his large head around, deep blue with a bright red fringe, his open mouth lined with terrifyingly sharp teeth. He inhaled, drawing the wind into his lungs, then exhaled. Leviathan, he named himself proudly.

Leviathan? Kain repeated, dumbly, wondering if the old stories about dragons were true, that those who breathed a dragon’s breath were enthralled by its magic, and Kain now bound to a new master.

Leviathan will be yours, Golbez corrected the mental image for Kain, offering a new one: Kain astride Leviathan, sitting proudly as Leviathan sliced through the air. The world will finally recognize you and your greatness.

Yes, Kain agreed, forgetting Cecil and the hurt in his eyes. Kain’s jealous desire for everything and everyone had won over his hidden shame once more, as it always would.

At the top of the Tower of Zot, Golbez waited. Overhead, the sky was a brilliant blue, with puffy white clouds surrounding the tower. Kain sensed Barbariccia’s presence in the playful tug of his ponytail, but she did not offer any insight or wisdom as to what Golbez wanted, remaining suspiciously silent.

Distantly, Kain heard Val’s greeting roared into the wind. If only for a second, it made him smile.

The tower’s top had been designed to focus a caster’s power, with amplifying runes etched into the stone floor. Kain had only ever seen Barbariccia use it, while channeling the Wind Crystal to listen anywhere and everywhere. But now Golbez stood in the center of the runes, an open book in his hands.

Beside Golbez was Dr. Lugae, who held a strange device; it vaguely resembled a large bellows, with an attached bag, full of something that did not weigh it down. Next to Lugae was an older man bound in chains, on his knees, head lowered, his gray hair hiding his face; he did not look up as Kain approached. A fourth person stood next to the prisoner, a Red Wings marine, his sword drawn and at the ready.

“What’s going on?” Kain asked, tentatively.

“Forgive my rudeness,” Golbez said, dryly. “I’ll introduce you two. Kain, this is the Elder of Mist. He was on the way to meet with King Odin about the increased monster activity when the earthquake struck, and he’s been enjoying our hospitality ever since.”

The Elder did not respond or even look up, his head still hanging between his shoulders.

“Elder,” Golbez said, although he still watched Kain, not sparing a glance at the prisoner despite the address. “This is Kain Highwind.” Golbez took a deliberate pause, then continued, “He’s responsible for Mist’s destruction.”

At this, the Elder suddenly looked up. If there had been fear in him before, it was gone now, a cold hatred now radiating in palpable waves as he glared at Kain. “You,” he spat in accusation. “You’re a monster.”

“We didn’t know,” Kain protested, taking half a step back. “We didn’t know what would happen when we delivered the ring.”

Dragoons don’t make excuses, childhood Rosa scolded him from his memories, her disappointed eyes still haunting him.

“The little girl,” Golbez injected, now turning his attention to the Elder, “Rydia, is her name? You should know she survived but was lost at sea not long afterward. It’s rumored Leviathan rescued her, and she dwells with them in the Feymarch,” Golbez paused, to let the information settle, then added, “You could ask an Eidolon, yourself.”

“Rydia…” the Elder echoed, looking pained. “She lives?” Then, he abruptly shook his head. “No. You will not bait me into summoning for you,” he declared, though his voice trembled.

“But if you summoned, you could both seek justice for Mist and confirm if the girl is alive,” Golbez suggested, his tone casual despite the weight of his words. He circled behind the Elder, then knelt. Metal clinked noisily as Golbez fussed with the manacles. “Show me your power. Make us all regret ever crossing your path.”

“I cannot,” the Elder gasped as he pulled his hands free from the chains. He scrambled back from Golbez, away from Kain and Lugae, until a short distance was between them. He had no weapon but didn’t need one, Kain reasoned, watching the Elder’s hands with growing trepidation. “Stay back,” the Elder warned.

Neither Golbez nor the Red Wings marine moved to detain the Elder, and Kain’s usual indecision paralyzed him into inaction.

“Tell me, Kain,” Golbez said, conversationally, “what was it like, in Mist, as it burned to ashes?”

“Wh…” Kain sputtered, unable to put voice to the horror he had witnessed. He remembered it nevertheless: the temperature rising rapidly, sweat dripping off his brow and stinging his eyes; the horrible smell of cooking meat in his nose; watching a woman run out of her house, her hair and clothes blazing, then she stopped abruptly, unable to see any more as her eyeballs had melted and drained out of her sockets; a small child, still burning long after they’d huddled up on the ground and stopped moving; the hot taste of fear in his throat, unsure of what Cecil would do next.

The remembered details poured out of Kain, unwillingly; he vaguely sensed Golbez beside him, wreathed in magic, but Kain was too lost in the graphic memory to know what Golbez was doing.

“No…” moaned the Elder, falling to his knees.

The sound of the Elder’s sobs broke Kain’s stupor; he blinked hard to refocus, then opened his eyes to see the Elder was standing, his hands cupped over his mouth as he began casting. It was unlike any spell Kain had ever witnessed, black or white, with a more intense pressure as magic rapidly surrounded the Elder.

“What did you do to him?” Kain asked Golbez, looking desperately around for a place to Jump to, but finding no convenient ledges on the tower’s top.

“I gave him permission to do what he wants to do, “ Golbez replied. He gestured to Lugae, who took up position beside Golbez, the instrument in his hands pointed at the Elder. Despite the Elder’s furious casting, Lugae remained still, grinning madly with all his teeth showing.

The summoner lifted his hands to the sky, and before him, a green and yellow shimming portal materialized. Sparks of electricity jumped around the border. “Come, father of the storm!” cried the summoner, “Ramuh, show them justice!”

Before the Eidolon could answer the call, Lugae stepped forward, aimed the nozzle of the bellows at the Elder, and squeezed the handles together. Green smoke streamed out, then collected around the Elder. If it was magic or engineering, Kain could not tell.

“Let’s find out if your theory on Reverse Gas and summoning is correct,” Golbez said, his voice hungry. He took a tentative step forward, toward the shimmering portal. With a flicker, the colors suddenly inverted, and the portal shifted, like a mirror flip of itself. Curiously, Kain could see into the portal now, glimpsing a stone floor with markings he did not recognize. He heard a rumble of thunder dangerously close by. Somewhere in the sky, Val replied with a shrill cry.

The Elder coughed but did not lower his hands. But instead of Ramuh bursting through the portal, Golbez took another step, then reached with his hand through the portal. “Sending instead of summoning,” Golbez murmured in awe. He looked back at Lugae and Kain. “Come. If we find and defeat Leviathan, he’ll be bound in servitude, and you’ll finally have your dragon.”

“No,” the Elder protested, his hands poised to cast once again. This time, the Red Wings marine was waiting. He grabbed the Elder by his hair and yanked, pulling the Elder roughly down to the ground.

“You’ll stay here and keep the portal to the Feymarch open,” Golbez said to the Elder, his voice neutral and cold. “And if you do not, then I’ll make sure Rydia has a short but painful existence as Dr. Lugae’s new test subject.”

Horrified, his eyes wide, the Elder let his hands drop.

Do not go, warned Barbariccia, sounding uncharacteristically scared, There is no wind in the Feymarch. I have no ears there.

“It’ll be all right,” Kain whispered back, not sure if he believed it.

Golbez went first, stepping confidently through, the blue portal glittering around him. Next was Lugae, with an excited spring in his step. Kain approached the portal, slowly, wondering what horror he’d see next at Golbez’s side.

Come, Golbez demanded, pressing firmly on Kain’s mind. This is what you wanted.

Kain put one foot through, hesitated, then heard Val’s familiar growl. He looked up in time to see her slicing downward through the air, directly for Kain and the portal. “No!” Kain shouted, but could not block her from speeding past him, through the gateway, and into the Feymarch.

“Val!” Kain yelled, his indecision temporarily forgotten as he chased after her.

Chapter Text

Kain emerged on the other side of the summoning portal, entering the Feymarch. Kain had expected a place where monsters dwelled, like a damp cave or secret lair in a volcano, but instead he stepped onto a wooden floor. Briefly, he saw an immense platform, stretching out around him, little houses nestled into corners, leaving wide walking paths accessible. Was this a village?

Kain would have continued looking, but a huge spark of lightning flashed in front of his face, followed by a belated boom of thunder, so close he was temporarily deafened, now unable to hear over the high-pitched whine in both of his ears.

As Kain’s eyes and ears finally adjusted, he saw Ramuh the Eidolon; he resembled an old white-haired sage, with a long beard that went to his feet. He wore lavish purple robes, and bore a staff, its top affixed with a red sparkling gem. Ramuh lifted the staff and pointed it directly at Kain. “You,” Ramuh said in a thunderous voice. “You have not followed the Code and cannot be here.”

Static crackled in the suddenly tense air around them. The staff’s gem pulsed with power as sparks of red lightning gathered around it. Kain took a useless step backward as the red lightning leapt for him. Kain felt a million simultaneous pin pricks of pain all over his body. He shuddered within his armor and then couldn’t stop, shaking so hard his armor clinked and rattled. Then, mercifully, it stopped; the sparks faded.

“Leave this place!” Ramuh demanded as he lifted his staff, ready to cast again.

“No.” It was Golbez who answered from somewhere behind Kain. “Tell me where Leviathan is, and I might not burn this whole place down. As I did to Mist.”

Ramuh scowled, his brushy brow furrowed. He raised his staff again into the air. “You have much to learn about Eidolons; we do not submit easily.” The gem sparked again, crackling as it built up energy anew.

“Now,” Golbez said as Lugae stepped forward. The doctor pumped the bellows twice and another cloud of green mist formed, this time around Ramuh, just as the Eidolon swung his staff, directing the lightning to strike.

Kain braced himself for another round of painful jabs, but none came. Instead, a familiar wave of green magic rippled through him, leaving relief in its wake, taking away the remaining pain and discomfort. A Cure spell? Kain wondered, unsure. Then, it clicked in place: Reverse Gas, Golbez had called it. Somehow it must reverse the effects of magic, Kain reasoned.

As Kain stood up taller with his vitality restored, Ramuh seemed to have the same realization. He looked between Kain and his staff, eyes wide in disbelief. “You won’t defeat our King,” Ramuh declared, although he sounded less authoritative than before. With another crack of lightning, Ramuh erupted into countless tiny sparks, then disappeared, followed by a belated boom of thunder somewhere close by.

Golbez cursed low under his breath in a rare display of frustration. “Kain!” he barked in command. “Get on the roof and see if you can spot a castle or manor – any house bigger than the others.”

Obediently, Kain knelt and Jumped, just enough to clear the top of the closest house. He landed on its roof with a dull thud, then turned around in a circle to see all around him. He saw a small village sprawled out several ascending levels of wooden platforms. On the topmost platform were two large buildings, one with an inn sign hanging on its front. Kain pointed in that direction.

“There are stairs going upward. I’m guessing they’ll be on the highest level,” Kain said. He peered up at the sky to realize there wasn’t one, only a vague darkness overhead.  The light came, instead, from brightly glowing lamps in every corner. Still, Kain searched overhead, his stomach dropping when he realized he had not seen Val yet. Maybe she had turned around and gone back already?

Golbez looked toward the direction Kain had pointed. “Dr. Lugae and I will go on foot,” Golbez said, then glanced back up at Kain. “You go by rooftops. When you get there, try to locate Leviathan and any defenses.”

“Yes, my lord,” Kain answered automatically, already jumping to a new roof.

With a task in mind, Kain Jumped from roof to roof, working his way closer to the next elevation. He passed by some people, Eidolons in human form, Kain assumed. He was not stealthy as he moved, too big and too heavily armored for stealth, so some stopped and pointed as he landed. He did not linger to find out what they could do to stop him.

As he Jumped up to the next elevation, Kain paused to survey the area, trying to gauge which was the most direct route to the next elevation. It was so hot, he thought, suddenly sweating inside his armor. It was too hot, actually, as the burning metal of his leg greaves seared against his calves. Kain looked down to see fire around his ankles.

Alarmed, Kain jumped – not Jumped – back from the fire, scrambling gracelessly. His footing lost, Kain stumbled sideways, and then fell off the roof’s edge. The house was only one story tall, thankfully, and while Kain landed hard on the wooden platform below, he was largely unharmed, not counting his ego.

Kain rolled to his back, staring up at the sky – no, the nothing, Kain corrected, brimming with pessimism. He would have lingered in his own self-pity longer, but he heard footsteps nearby and sat up.

“The pride of Baron,” called out a soft voice. It was almost familiar in a way Kain could not define. A green-haired girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old, stepped from the shadows of the house Kain had just fallen from. “You won’t find the Feymarch as unprepared as Mist.” Fire flickered suddenly in her hands, leaping upward from her palms. She held it out toward Kain, as in offering. “Now, it’s you who should fear fire.” The flames danced in her outstretched hands, reflecting in her blue eyes, making them brighter. It was here that Kain recognized her; the sight of her fire-filled gaze had haunted his guilty nightmares ever since their first meeting.

“Rydia,” Kain said, naming her. But how? The girl he had first encountered was only six or seven and the one before him was older, at least a teenager. Awkwardly, he got to his feet, watching her warily.

But Rydia confirmed it with a curt nod. “Tell me why I shouldn’t burn you alive right now,” she demanded. “You brought destruction to my home, and you killed my mother. I will not let you do it again.”

“Because you know both Cecil and I had no idea what would happen,” Kain said, hands up to show himself unarmed, his lance still at his back. “Neither of us meant to harm you, your mother, or Mist.” Kain hesitated, hoping that might be enough.

Rydia said nothing and the fire in her hands crackled louder, as if to answer for her.

“You forgave Cecil,” Kain blurted out.

Rydia scowled. “What makes you think I’ve forgiven Cecil?” she asked sharply.

“You joined his cause,” Kain pointed out, unsure if this was the best tactic but having no other options, “and journeyed with him until the shipwreck. Surely, you must have—”

“I was a child!” Rydia interrupted; the fire bloomed brighter, now flowing from her hands, swirling around her, reminiscent of Barbariccia and her defensive hair. “You two made me a naïve orphan with no home. What choice did I have but to go with Cecil and help him wage his war?”

Kain took a step back but found the house directly behind him; he was effectively trapped, now feeling the heat rippling out from her and her furious fire.

“Was I just another tool in his hand? Another ally and resource?” Rydia asked, stepping toward him. The closer proximity made Kain start to sweat, not just from the heat but in genuine fear of the immense power this girl possessed. “Do you know how many people I’ve watched die?” she asked, leaning closer. “Because I lost count in Fabul,” she continued in a low voice. Some of Kain’s hair was previously loosened from its ponytail, a few strands hanging forward on his shoulders; they began to singe, noisily, and the smell of burnt hair filled his nose. “So, what’s one more?” she asked, deceptively soft.

“Cecil wasn’t using you,” Kain closed his eyes tight and looked away, feeling the fire coming closer. “He climbed Mount Ordeals in atonement for all that he had done,” Kain added quickly. This made Rydia pause and Kain felt the fire recede. He carefully opened his eyes and saw her, her mouth pressed in an impatient line, waiting for him to continue. “He became a paladin.”

“A paladin?” Rydia echoed in disbelief. Her eyes went distant, and Kain glimpsed the child she had been, awed by the knight who had saved her. Her hands fell to her sides and the flames disappeared. “And where is he now?” Then, she abruptly shook her head. “No, never mind, don’t answer that. I’m not rejoining Cecil and I’m not leaving the Feymarch.”

“A good decision,” Kain admitted. “I will soon defeat him,” he said, though did not sound very certain.

Rydia arched an eyebrow. “Cecil was not prepared for you in Fabul. You’ll not get another victory so easily.”

“Golbez will—” Kain started to say but was interrupted by a dragon’s loud roar in the distance.

“Leviathan…” Rydia whispered, eyes wide. “Why is he in dragon form?” She turned to glare at Kain. “What did you do?” she asked impatiently.

“Golbez…” Kain said, not in answer to Rydia, but to himself. Golbez and Lugae must have confronted Leviathan without him – or worse, were ambushed themselves.

“You brought Golbez to my home?!” Rydia asked in horror, her teenage exasperation forgotten. She brought her hands to her mouth and magic began to gather around her, her spell building.

A squawking cry alerted Kain. He looked upward and saw Val hovering low overhead. Just as Rydia raised her hands with fire streaming from her fingers, Kain crouched down and Jumped. He felt the whoosh of hot air under his feet as he flew up and knew Rydia’s Fire spell had just missed him. Luckily, the current of hot air from the spell was enough to push Kain upward, even in this windless place.

Kain grabbed Val as he got closer and pulled himself up on her back, one leg dangling on each side. Val shifted, wings beating once, then twice, as she adjusted to Kain’s weight.

“This isn’t over!” Rydia called after them but could not conjure another spell before Val took off, her powerful dragon wings putting immediate distance between them.

“I know,” Kain replied, too far away now for her to hear him. Kain had borne the brunt of Rydia’s summoning fury once before and he had no desire to repeat the experience. Kain clung to Val’s back tightly, wondering how he would direct her to take him to Golbez. Then, a dragon’s roar filled the sky, loud and thunderous, demanding attention, summoning. Val banked sharply, changing direction, now heading toward the dragon, like Leviathan had called to her specifically.

As they cleared the last platform, Kain saw the chaos below. Leviathan, the dragon from Golbez’s promises and Kain’s dreams, reared his head up, huge mouth open, magic gathering around his tongue. He breathed the spell to life, like the fairytale dragons breathing fire, only instead, crashing waves of water materialized, breaking violently against two figures who stood opposite Leviathan. Overhead hung a heavy green cloud, ominous and foreboding – had Dr. Lugae really used so much Reverse Gas already?

As Val descended, slowly, Kain saw them: Golbez and Lugae. Golbez was casting, his head lowered to his cupped hands. Lugae pulled a potion bottle from his belt and chucked it at Leviathan; a rainbow of colors shimmered over Leviathan’s form. It was a restorative, Kain knew by its visual effect – but why, Kain wondered, would Lugae want to heal Leviathan?

Leviathan roared suddenly, an anguished, pained cry; the booming sound answered Kain’s question: Reverse Gas.

Around them, several Eidolons began to approach Golbez and Lugae from behind – a woman with icy silver skin, her hair in thick blue braids down her back; a horned demon, flames licking his clawed feet; and the sage Ramuh, his staff already crackling with electricity. Immediately, the woman began to cast, a mist of snow and ice gathering around her.

“Shiva, wait!” Ramuh cried out in warning. “They have some elemental immunities. My magic only healed them.”

The sound alerted Golbez and Lugae to their presence, and they turned to face the Eidolons. Lugae chuckled darkly to himself, then depressed the bellows, streaming green smoke all around the Eidolons.

“Then we shall try ice,”  Shiva said coolly as she ascended from the wooden platform, hovering midair. She blew out a breath, a cold wind of ice chunks and snow, glittering brightly as it approached Golbez and Lugae. Around them, large, sharp icicles emerged violently from the floor, entrapping them in a circle. Shiva lifted her hand up and snapped once; the ice around them exploded, shattering into countless shards of glassy ice, Shiva’s satisfied smile reflecting in some. When the ice cleared, all that remained was a fine mist, shimmering in the lamplight.

Kain had expected to see Golbez and Lugae wounded, as Golbez had not shielded them, but a restorative green beam rippled over them, restoring their vitality instead. Again, Kain was reminded of the strange effects of the Reverse Gas; how else would this battle be reversed?

“Now fire!” declared the horned demon. Kain would later learn his name to be Ifrit, but for now, the demon was namelessly terrifying, with great claws and bared teeth, and a brimming fury that desperately wanted to rage without control. He’d been birthed from hell in purifying flames, come to burn away all who would stand in his path.

Ifrit raised his claws and around him erupted streaming jets of fire, circling and twisting around him. He curled one hand into a fist and punched the air, aimed at Golbez and Lugae. The fire around him followed the direction of the gesture, streaming forward to engulf Golbez and Lugae.

Again, the same restorative green shimmered over them, and again, they stood with renewed energy. When will they learn? Kain wondered.

“My king!” cried a new voice. Kain looked to see a strange woman emerge from the large manor house. She had multiple sets of arms surrounding her and Kain could not quite make out her face. Then, she turned to run to Leviathan and Kain saw she had three faces, rotating intermittently, each with a different expression; the current one was furious and frowning, her skin and eyes a dangerous red.

“Asura, no!” Shiva cried out in warning.

Asura’s face rotated again. This face was a beautiful but severe looking woman, with sharp angles and features. Her mouth was pinched tight in a merciless line. She either did not hear Shiva or chose not to listen, as she began to cast.

Lugae pumped the bellows once more, as Asura brought her spell to its conclusion, her arms raised up, white squares of light circling around her before they faded. White twinkling lights surrounded Leviathan, circling fast, then disappeared. Kain had never seen a Cure spell so powerful before, not even the night Rosa had healed Cecil’s first dark knight injury.

Asura took a step toward Leviathan. His scream of pain halted her, and he now struggled to push his long body off the floor. “What have you done?” Asura demanded as her face rotated to the third: a dark mask with empty eyes and an unnerving smile that filled Kain with dread.

Maybe if I just stay up here, Kain thought to himself, then—

Come, Kain, Golbez abruptly interrupted Kain’s train of thought. And earn your reward.

Kain leaned forward on Val’s neck. “Hide and stay out of this,” he murmured against her scaled neck; she growled in reply. Kain ignored her and leaned to the side, abruptly dropping from Val’s back. It was not a long way down, and Kain fell into an easy crouch beside Golbez.

“Master,” Kain said by way of greeting. He drew the lance from his back, taking up a defensive position beside Golbez.

“Magic has been reversed,” Asura shouted to the other Eidolons, who were paralyzed into inaction, unsure of how to act. Asura looked down at her own hands and her face rotated again to the beautiful one, only now she smiled. “I can adjust,” she said and began to cast, all three sets of hands engaged in her spell craft.

“It is time,” Golbez announced. Dr. Lugae nodded, and pumped the bellows repeatedly, streaming green mist again. Only this time, as it mingled with the remaining Reverse Gas, it flickered out of existence. Does the second dose of Reverse Gas negate the first? Kain wondered.

Asura’s casting concluded, her hands raised up as the white squares circled her again. This time, the twinkling lights fell over Golbez, Lugae, and Kain; he felt the burned skin of his shins healing, no longer stinging. So, it was true, Kain realized, Lugae could switch the effect back and forth.

Golbez began casting his own spell, but it was not one Kain recognized. Admittedly, he knew only a little of white mage and even less of black magic, but the arcane words Golbez whispered sounded nothing like anything Kain had ever heard; it was strange and alien.

A figure in green darted in front of Leviathan – Rydia. Fire circled her, the currents of heat sending her green curls swinging wildly, the brightness of the flame darkening her eyes in its shadow. “Leave now!” she demanded.

“You think to stand against Lord Golbez and his power?” Lugae asked with a giggle. “One little girl’s paltry flames against the might of Meteo?”

“Meteo?” echoed Rydia in awe, her eyes wide; the fire faded from her, momentarily forgotten.

“Go, Rydia!” Leviathan boomed, his head seeming too heavy to lift and defend himself. “Do not get caught in his magic.”

Golbez stepped forward, about to bring his spell down. He would hit Rydia, too close to Leviathan to avoid.

Kain looked around, judging the distance from him to Leviathan, then up to the roof of the house. Could he do it? Kain wondered, then found he had no time to speculate. Putting his lance at his back, he dashed forward, surprising Rydia as he hefted her up into his arms, one arm behind her back, the other under her legs. Before she could protest or throw more fire in his face, he Jumped, just as Golbez brought his devastating spell down on Leviathan.

As he landed, Kain lost his grip on Rydia, dumping her on the roof unceremoniously.

“What do you think—” Rydia started to ask hotly, then stopped as she saw Golbez’s spell unfold.

It was not unlike a summon, Kain thought, as it seemed like Golbez was coaxing open a portal from another realm. Now open, blazing balls of fire and rock streamed through and crashed into Leviathan, each hit punctuated by a distressed roar of pain. Leviathan curled his long body in on himself, tucking his head under his belly, trying but failing to evade the searing agony.

“It can’t be Meteo,” Rydia said, sagging to her knees, silent tears on her cheeks as she watched Leviathan. “No being should possess that much power.”

“Golbez does,” Kain said. It was not with pride or with awe, only stated as matter of fact. It was the only thing Kain was still sure of anymore – Golbez was too powerful to stop. “Stay here,” he said to Rydia, then Jumped back to the platform. With Rydia out of the way, his guilt only slightly alleviated, Kain could do what he and Golbez had come here to do.

“The girl?” Golbez demanded. “Where is she?”

“I left her up on the roof,” Kain replied, trying to sound calm. “Out of harm’s way. After Leviathan is defeated, I’ll retrieve her.” He hoped she’d have the sense to find her way down before then.

“Hm,” Golbez made a non-committal noise with his throat and turned his attention back to Leviathan, who lay unmoving, his body limp. He still lived, though, his deep breathing snuffing loudly, blowing hot breath across the floor in waves. One eye peered up at Golbez, waiting. Golbez gestured toward the dragon. “Take the last strike, Kain,” Golbez ordered.

“My lord…” Kain said, drawing his lance free from his back. He looked at it thoughtfully, wondering if he could really follow through.

“If you do this, you’ll have the mightiest dragon on the planet under your control,” Golbez said with a rare note of building excitement. “None will stand against you. But it must be you who defeats Leviathan; he can only be summoned by those whose hands have defeated him.”

Kain slowly approached Leviathan, and the exposed eye. Leviathan blinked slowly, and Kain saw his own reflection in the glassy membrane of the giant eyeball. He lifted his lance and aimed for the pupil. When he saw his impending action mirrored back at him, Kain hesitated.

Leviathan blinked slowly again, temporarily interrupting the reflection.

Kain looked away, knowing he should feel shame in this moment and somehow missing it. He turned back and returned slowly to Golbez’s side. “I cannot.” Kain said simply. “It is… not right.”

“If you will not seize power, then I will,” Golbez said, his hands now wreathed in purple sparks.

Nearby, Val cried out in distress. Kain looked up and saw her circling low over Leviathan’s head. As Golbez’s lightning leaped outward from his hands, Val dived straight down, throwing herself between Leviathan and Golbez, absorbing the impact of the dangerous spell. Her whole body jerked violently, midair, then she fell limp to the ground and did not move.

“No!” Kain cried out, running toward Val, falling beside her. He felt over her nose but could not feel her breath through her nostrils. He touched her chest, waiting for it to move up and down with her lungs, but felt nothing. Tears blurred Kain’s vision.

“This isn’t over,” Golbez declared, building magic in his hands again. “If you do not want a true dragon, then I will take him for myself.”

“Wait!” Asura called out as she slowly approached. “I have an offer.”

Golbez paused, magic fading. “I’m listening.”

“I can resurrect your dragon as an Eidolon. Then, you can summon her as you want,” Asura offered cautiously.

The idea sparked intense hope in Kain, which quickly died – Val would be Golbez’s dragon, then, and not his? Once again, would he rather have a thing destroyed if he could not have it himself? Didn’t he just want Val whole and alive, even if she was bound to another?

“Why would I want any dragon when I can have Leviathan?” Golbez asked, his voice dangerously low.

“Because I will kill Ramuh,” Shiva answered instead, a long icicle in her hand. “And that will kill his summoner, severing the link to your world.” She approached Ramuh, who moved his beard aside, voluntarily exposing his neck to Shiva’s icy blade. “Do you want to be stranded here?” she asked, pressing the tip into the hollow of Ramuh’s throat.

Golbez was silent, considering the implication. Then, he spoke, his voice short. “Fine. I do not need Leviathan for my goals.”

“Good,” Asura said, sounding relieved. She knelt beside Val’s body, magic threading through her deft fingers. “Heed my call,” Asura said softly as she drew her glowing hands over Val. “Come back to me; your service is still needed.”

Kain held his breath, waiting. Val’s body twitched once, then twice; her eyes began to open—

“Now,” Golbez commanded, but to whom? Kain looked up to see Dr. Lugae aiming his bellows at Asura and Val. He pressed on it, deploying the Reverse Gas as Asura’s spell reached its conclusion.

At first, Val was bathed in light, illuminated, but as the green mist crawled over her, shadows seemed to follow, like dozens of strange spiders from the void. Val opened her mouth and shrieked – a horrible sound of terror; the sound broke Kain’s heart.

“What have you done?” demanded Asura, stumbling back from Val.

Val convulsed on the floor, twitching violently, her whole body shaking as she began to retch. Her mouth opened wide, and a shadow streamed between her teeth, growing thicker as more emerged from her. As more shadows poured out of her, Val seemed to deflate, like her body was crumpling, deprived of the substance that made her Val.

The shadows coiled together, forming a long, twisting body while purple scales emerged in ridges along the spine. Her mouth formed and she opened it, Kain saw the dark void within, black and endless, framed by black fangs. The sight made him want to weep in terror.

“My shadow dragon,” Golbez said with reverence, as the shadow wyrm curled around Golbez, almost playfully in the same way Val used to dart around Kain’s legs. She had been the light in Kain’s life and now she was part of the shadow – Reverse Gas, of course, what else would she be?

“Leave my realm,” Asura demanded, now stepping between Golbez and Leviathan. “You have been granted the boon you’ve earned,” she said, the words ominous.

“Come,” Golbez issued the one-word command, and turned to go. Val – or Shadow, now? followed, gliding easily through the air, curling around Golbez’s shoulders.

“I’ll get the girl. I’ll meet you at the portal,” Kain said gruffly, desperately needing distance; he did not wait for an answer but took off with a Jump, landing on the roof where he had left Rydia.

To his surprise, she was still there. Rydia had watched the events unfold, and now looking pale and withdrawn, the color having drained from her face. “Kain,” Rydia said as he landed. “Golbez must be stopped. Tell me you can see that.”

“Nothing can stop him,” Kain said.

“Cecil can,” Rydia said, with a new defiant tilt of her chin. “And I will help him.”

“I thought you weren’t leaving the Feymarch,” Kain questioned dryly.

“That was before – before you came here, before Golbez nearly defeated Leviathan, and before he claimed a corrupted Eidolon as his pet. That kind of power is terrifying, and Cecil will need my help,” she said, suddenly filled with passion. “When I face Golbez and his Shadow Dragon next, whose side will you be on?” Rydia asked, the question sincere.

“I don’t know,” Kain answered honestly before he Jumped away, racing to catch up to Golbez. As he went from roof to roof, he no longer saw any people or monsters in the walkways, all having gone inside to wait out the danger.

Dr. Lugae and Golbez were waiting at the portal.

“Thank you for my new summon,” Golbez said without emotion, and Kain could not sense if Golbez was being sarcastic or not;

Kain was too numb to care, saying nothing as Golbez, then Lugae entered the portal.

Could he stay here, Kain wondered, already knowing the answer. He stepped into the portal.

On the other side, the Red Wings marine was beside the Elder, who was still on his knees, maintaining the summoning portal. At seeing Kain emerge, Golbez nodded, and the Elder gasped with relief as he released the spell and the portal closed.

“Now for your reward,” Golbez said. He held a hand out, as if to offer the Elder help in getting up. Instead, Shadow coiled around Golbez’s arm, then launched herself forward to attack the Elder, sinking her black fangs into his neck. Quick as lightning, she released him, letting the Elder fall bonelessly to the floor; he did not move again.

“That will do nicely,” Golbez said, a smile in his voice.

A shiver of terror went down Kain’s back.

Chapter Text

On the roof of the Tower of Zot, Golbez nudged the corpse with the tip of his boot, rolling the body to its back. The Elder of Mist stared blankly up at the overcast sky, his mouth twisted grimly in a frozen moment of horror, his eyes wide open, several tears still dripping down the sides of his cheeks.

“We did not gain Leviathan’s boon,” Golbez announced, although he did not sound terse, only matter of fact. “But instead found something…” he paused, looking aside to Shadow, who drifted aimlessly and effortlessly around the roof top, “…more effective,” Golbez finished, sounding pleased with himself. “Despite his allies, Cecil will find himself outmatched.”

Kain still felt numb; the wound of losing Val too fresh to even feel yet. “Yes, my lord,” Kain said automatically, his mouth seeming to find the words on its own.

“Lord Golbez!” Dr. Lugae looked like he might burst with excitement, as he danced back and forth between his feet. “Allow me to expand my Reverse Gas research at the Tower of Babil?” Lugae spoke quickly, gesturing enthusiastically. “The implications for its use are endless! I could reverse other spells and items to see what other transformative effects they might have. What is the opposite of Toad, or Pig? Of Beserk or Reflect?” Lugae gasped suddenly. “What if I combined spells? What then? What sort of chimera could I create?”

“Go and ready a ship for departure,” Golbez said with a nod, dismissing both the Red Wings marine and Lugae, who practically skipped away gleefully, chattering ideas and possibilities to himself.

Kain pitied Lugae’s next test subject and was unexpectedly relieved it was not Rydia. He was surprised at the depth of his feeling of protectiveness toward her. Kain should want her dead, her unstable power removed from the worldwide game of strategy Golbez played, but instead Kain felt a strange sense of obligation.

Cecil, Kain reminded himself – Cecil would want Rydia protected, would expect it of Kain, whether Kain was bewitched by Golbez or not.  Kain felt relieved he would not disappoint Cecil with this at least, and the girl remained safe. Kain had failed Cecil in so many other ways, and the thought of more disappointment was gutting. It was a good thing Cecil would be dead soon, Kain comforted himself, knowing it was the only way to be freed from torturing himself over Cecil’s lofty expectations.

Golbez extended his arm out toward Shadow, and she drifted back toward him, coiling around his arm. “Go,” Golbez said, and Shadow blinked out of existence at the command. “Wonderful,” Golbez murmured, staring at his hand; his apparent awe was unnerving.

“Barbariccia,” Golbez next called to the open sky. But it did not answer him with the same prompt obedience, remaining silent except for the roar of the winds overhead. Golbez looked at Kain. “Go and find Barbariccia,” he said, sounding annoyed. “Tell her to come here to report.”

Kain started to turn, then hesitated. “Why do you not go into her mind, like you do mine? You would know where she is and why she’s not answering.” Kain was desperate to avoid Barbariccia, having no words to explain what happened to Val.

Golbez said nothing for a long moment, the empty eyes of his helmet wordlessly watching Kain. Then, he spoke quietly, “I cannot reach everyone as I do you.”

Kain had always assumed Golbez could exercise his power over anyone, and the admission that this magic was somehow limited stunned Kain. He swallowed hard, then asked, “Why me?”

“Because you let me,” Golbez admitted. “You want to be unaccountable for your actions, so you squirm and protest but still you do those terrible things I command. You cannot make decisions, so you follow me instead and pretend you have no choice. You belong to me, Kain, because you want to belong to me.”

“Yes,” Kain agreed, not just because it was true but because Kain realized that Golbez knew him better than anyone else in the world – even Rosa, his oldest friend. Golbez saw past the bravado and knew Kain for the insecure and indecisive coward he truly was. The act of being seen so intimately made Kain feel horribly vulnerable.

“Now go and find Barbariccia,” Golbez said with a dismissive gesture.

Reluctantly, Kain went to the edge of the tower. He peered down and saw a myriad of ledges and outcroppings he could land on. Kain looked back at Golbez, wanting to say something to prove Golbez wrong, but found no words adequate words that weren’t lies.

Instead, Kain stepped off the edge, and into the waiting arms of the wind.

“Barbariccia, where are you?” Kain asked the wind as he landed on a small balcony. He perched carefully, looking around for any sign of her, but she was everywhere: perfuming the breeze that drifted around the tower, the color of her hair flashing in the glints of sun off the sea below; her fierce satisfaction and pride echoed in a large bird’s cry as it dived toward the water’s surface, then effortlessly plucked out a wriggling fish with its talons. Barbariccia was everywhere, and therefore nowhere. Why wasn’t she answering? Kain wondered, and then his worry began to mount.

Kain made his way around the outside of the tower, leaping from ledge to ledge, carefully looking for any sign or hint of Barbariccia’s physical presence. As he approached the airship docks, he finally spotted her, pacing back and forth, speaking animatedly. Her audience was a strange new statue of a person, but Kain could not make out the details yet, only that its body was stone gray, and the top of its head oddly painted, made to look like blonde hair. Like Rosa, he corrected, his fear growing.

Kain landed on the docks, some distance from Barbariccia and the statue.

“Do you know what sort of beasts lurk in that cave?” Barbariccia was asking, her voice a hiss in the wind. “There are hordes of vicious, blood sucking bats; powerful naga who could crush your sternum with one blow; sorcerers from the deep with a wriggling mess of tentacles where their mouths should be, who can drive a person to madness with one spell—”

Barbariccia stopped abruptly, hearing the rattle of Kain’s armor as he approached. She looked over her shoulder at Kain and smiled. “Your precious Cecil won’t survive the journey, especially not without his armor and sword.” But her words were for the statue behind her.

Rosa, Kain realized with dismay, recognizing the features of the statue now that he was close. Kain had seen gradual petrification before, watching as it crept slowly up a person’s body until they were fully stone. But what had happened to Rosa? Kain wondered. Her petrification had halted precisely between her mouth and nose, leaving her eyes and the forehead untouched. Rosa watched, unable to move or speak, only able to breathe frantically through her nose as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“What are you doing, Barbariccia?” Kain asked gruffly.

Barbariccia laughed, whirling back to Rosa, hair swirling protectively around Rosa’s stone form. “Rosa told me Cecil will fight his way to the tower to rescue her. So, I brought her to watch and wait while I tell her all the ways Cecil could die before he gets here.”

“Undo this,” Kain said, trying to sound commanding.

“No,” Barbariccia pouted, exaggerating the expression. “I’m stuck in this tower and there’s nothing to do but wait and listen. I want to have some fun too.”

“Barbariccia,” Kain said her name as a warning, his deep voice nearly a growl. “Undo it.”

“Wait, where’s Val?” Barbariccia asked abruptly, looking up to the sky, the flirty pretense forgotten.

“She…” Kain fumbled for words, unsure of how to explain. “She was lost in the battle,” he finished, hoping his vagueness could make it not a lie. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Barbariccia visibly deflated, her hair falling flat against her arms and back, no longer dancing in the wind or tugging at Rosa. Her response surprised Kain, who thought she might have viewed the dragon the same as her monster troops – just another creature in servitude. But as Barbariccia looked aside, he saw the sparkle of tears on her lashes as she quickly blinked.

“Please release Rosa,” Kain asked, hoping this vulnerable Barbariccia might be more sympathetic.

Barbariccia gestured absently, and a rainbow of colors cascaded around Rosa, purging the stone from her skin. Feet freed last, Rosa stumbled, and Kain caught her by the elbow and held her up; she clung to his arm tightly and her sudden nearness made Kain’s heart beat faster, hammering hard against his ribs.

“Our Master calls for me,” Barbariccia said, her voice oddly detached. “I should go. Take her back to her cell before he realizes she’s missing.”

“I will,” Kain said, and was relieved when Barbariccia disappeared in a whirl of yellow hair. “Are you okay?” he asked Rosa, still holding her up. “How long were you petrified?”

Rosa found her feet and steadied, although she still clutched at his arm. “Long enough,” she said, sounding small. “I need to rest.”

“I’ll take you back,” Kain said, trying to sound reassuring. He wondered why she did not try and convince him to leave, while Golbez and Barbariccia were both distracted or why he didn’t suggest it himself. Instead, neither said anything, only walked in silence back into the tower.

Kain guided her through the twisting tunnels, up several floors until they came to the strange windless prison wing. The Delta Sisters stood outside, watching with amusement as Kain helped Rosa through.

“Isn’t that precious!” exclaimed Mindy, her voice sickly sweet. “You’ve brought Rosa to her room! Are you going to tuck her in, too?”

Kain said nothing, only held Rosa tighter, as they walked down the hallway, to the open prison door.

Rosa went in without protest, letting Kain help her sit on the cot. It wasn’t until she was settled that she looked up and asked, “Will you stay?”

“Stay?” Kain asked, unsure.

“I cannot sleep knowing they linger outside, ready to pounce on me, to use me as a prop or plaything in some new game of theirs. They poke and prod at me like a doll.” She leaned forward, head in her hands, and began to noisily weep. “I just want to sleep.”

“Sleep,” Kain said, his heart aching at the sight and sounds of her crying. “I’ll stand guard.”

“You’ll stay right here?” Rosa asked, sounding like a scared child. It was so unlike her usual self that it unnerved Kain to hear it.

“Right here,” Kain repeated. He knelt beside the cot, taking Rosa’s hand in his. “I won’t move from this spot.”

Rosa said nothing as she laid down on the narrow cot. Kain sat on the ground with his back to the cot’s edge and watched the cell door, wishing it to stay empty, so Rosa would get the peace she so desperately needed. He could hear her breathing even out and then deepen, and knew she slept.

Kain was not sure how long Rosa slept, having no sky to track the passing time, and too caught up in his own chaotic thoughts to realize when hours had passed. At some point, uncomfortable in his armor, he removed each piece, neatly arranging it in a corner of the cell room. Sometimes he sat beside the cot, sometimes he paced or watched the door, somehow convinced that his thoughts alone could keep the tower’s monsters at bay.

But what will protect Rosa from you? a hidden part of himself asked, and this thought was so jarring Kain stopped midstride and looked around, like someone else was in the room with them. But there was no Barbariccia in this windless room; Golbez, too, was quiet, likely distracted in scheming some new and terrible task for Kain.

What would Rosa do upon waking? Kain wondered, half hoping she’d have a new escape plan, half dreading it. Ler her try Libra, a thought suggested, small but determined. She could find me. But the thought was so uncomfortable, Kain pushed it aside, determined to ignore it.

When Rosa finally did wake, her eyelids fluttering open like a sleeping princess of their childhood stories—

“But I don’t want to be the princess!” Rosa protested. “I want to use the sword.”

Kain considered the wooden sword he held, then frowned at her. “But if you can rescue yourself, then what’s the point of the fearless hero? What will I do?”

— and then she sat up, blinking curiously at Kain.

“How are you feeling?” Kain asked, awkward in the silence between them when he had so much he wanted to say to her.

“I’m…” Rosa paused to genuinely consider it, “I’m all right.”

“Yeah?” Kain queried, peering closer at her – the rest had eased some of the tension around her forehead and mouth, but she still bore dark smudges under her eyes. “Do you want to sleep more?” Do you want to escape with me? Kain wanted to ask, but his tongue refused, instead saying, “I don’t mind standing watch.”

“No,” Rosa said; she watched him cautiously. “What about you? What happened in the Feymarch?”

Golbez must have discussed his plans in front of Rosa, Kain realized. “I lost Val,” he said, looking aside, not having the words to explain what had happened. “But Golbez got what he wanted, in the end.” He blinked hard and felt tears threaten the corners of his vision; he clenched his jaw, willing them away.

“I’m sorry,” Rosa whispered, full of sympathy, as he knew she would be.

Get out of here, cautioned the hidden piece of Kain.

“Why aren’t you trying to convince me to escape?” Kain asked, ignoring the voice.

“Because Cecil’s coming for us,” Rosa said, sounding so damn determined and certain. How could she still believe, after all that had happened? Kain resented her optimism and faith; the feeling evolved into anger as she continued, “He’s going to rescue both of us from this awful place.” She stood from the cot and crossed the small room to Kain, her hand lightly on his arm, oblivious to his growing outrage. “I need you to believe that.”

“Do you think he’d really go through all of that for us?” Kain asked bitterly, knowing it for a lie even as he said it, but unable to help it. “You think yourself worth so much trouble?”

“Cecil loves me,” Rosa said, withdrawing her hand from Kain. “He loves me and will go to hell itself if it means rescuing me.”

“Such devotion,” Kain remarked sarcastically, hating himself as he spoke next, “What inspired this affection in Cecil? You were keeping him at arm’s length before he left Baron.”

“I…” Rosa hesitated, her cheeks going red. “It’s none of your concern. You set me aside, Kain, you don’t get to question me on my love life,” she paused again, looking anywhere except up at Kain. “Or Cecil’s,” she added, quietly.

What was really pushing his desire to know, Kain was forced to ask himself, fearful of the possible implications. “Did you?” he asked, the question tight in his throat. “The night before the Siege of Fabul. You both think you might die the next day and he’s asking you to marry him. Did you sleep with him?”

As he spoke, Kain stepped forward, and Rosa stepped back in response. He came forward another step, and again she stepped back, but now her legs hit the edge of the cot behind her. She looked back behind her, then quickly looked back, eyes wide. Was it fear or excitement? Kain was not certain, only knew that it made his heart suddenly beat faster.

“Tell me,” Kain said tightly, his jaw clenched.

“Yes,” Rosa said, her chin at a defiant angle. “If you want to torture yourself, then yes, we did. Are you happy now?”

Kain closed the distance between them with another step. Rosa froze at his nearness, though she did not drop her eyes, but watched Kain with a mix of caution and curiosity. He picked up her hand, turning it over carefully, like he was seeing her for the first time. He traced a line in her palm, marveling at the fine lines within, wondering what parts of Cecil she’d touched. He let go of her hand and looked up at her; her face was suddenly fascinating. He cupped her cheek with his palm, his thumb brushing across her lower lip, curious if she’d kissed Cecil as eagerly as she had kissed him.

Somewhere on the surface of Rosa was a piece of Cecil that no one else would ever have, like a living relic of Cecil’s lost innocence.  The idea both captivated Kain and filled him with a dark jealousy and his old childhood possessiveness. Rosa was another victory Cecil had thought he had claimed over Kain, but Kain and Rosa knew otherwise. Kain smirked at the thought.

“Why do you do this to me?” Rosa asked, color high in her cheeks, looking up at him, barely moving her lips as she spoke.

“Because you let me,” Kain said, repeating Golbez’s words, too engrossed with her mouth to realize. “Tell me something, Rosa,” he said, lightly running the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “When you were with Cecil, were you thinking of me?”

Rosa’s breath hitched in her chest. “That’s not a fair question.”

“Nothing in this tower is fair,” Kain needlessly reminded her, knowing she knew it more than anyone else; she’d been mistreated the worst of all. Startled by the thought, he dropped his hands from her and started to run away but was stopped by Rosa’s hand on his shoulder.

“Yes,” Rosa said, her face upturned toward him. “I thought of you – is that what you want to hear?” she asked, and the question was in earnest. “We both believed you died in the Mist earthquake, and I couldn’t stop picturing you buried alive under the rubble, unable to fill your lungs.” She looked aside, eyes distant as she remembered. “And how I’d never see you again.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kain said pointedly, carefully turning her face back to him.

“I know,” Rosa admitted quietly. “If you want to continue tormenting both of us, then yes, when I was with Cecil I thought of you. Of our time together at Mount Ordeals. I doubt I’ll ever be touched again without thinking of you. You’ve made me a selfish and cruel lover, and I hate you for it. And Cecil deserves better than either of us can offer.”

“Perhaps he does, but he won’t have it,” Kain countered. “Cecil won’t survive climbing the tower. And everything that Cecil had will be mine. His rank, his inheritance, his crown, and you.”

Rosa searched his face for something and Kain wondered if she would find it. “Do you only want me now because I belong to Cecil?” she asked quietly. He saw the sudden worry in her eyes and wondered if she feared the answer.

“Do you?” Kain asked as he circled his hand around her neck, drawing her closer; Rosa did not fight the embrace, but instead stepped into it. “With all that’s happened between us, can you really say you’re truly Cecil’s?”

Rosa, with her brow furrowed, opened her mouth to respond, then hesitated. Her inability to be decisively certain only reinforced the rightness of following his dark impulses. After all, why shouldn’t he have whatever he wanted? Cecil would be dead soon, so why shouldn’t Kain have Cecil’s things? Golbez had promised, after all.

Kain leaned down and kissed her, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to show her how much better than Cecil he was. He was not surprised to find her yielding, tugging him closer, sighing her mouth open against his. It was further proof of how much she wanted him to do this, Kain told himself, refusing to acknowledge the truth of his coercion.

Later, freed from his bewitchment and given time to reflect, Kain would look upon this moment with deep shame. Imprisoned and as powerless as she was, what else could Rosa have done? Did she fear for her life if she rebuffed him? And worse, would she have been right?

But those thoughts were far away, and Rosa seemed willing, her hands eagerly tugging at his clothing, dragging him to the cot. “Please,” she murmured against his jaw, drawing him on top of her, and that was enough for Kain.

It became a frenzy of hard kisses and gripping hands. There was no moonlit magic in this, as there was their first time together. No softness or gentleness, only taking what each wanted without apology. When Kain first thrust into her, he heard Rosa’s sharp inhale of breath, but her hips bucked up, meeting his anyway. With her hands tangled in his hair, she pulled him closer, kissing him deeply. It was confirmation of Rosa’s authentic feelings, Kain convinced himself, and it was his last coherent thought.

After that, it was a blur of sensations, leaving no room for troublesome thoughts or invasive voices. It was not curious and cautious lovemaking, as it had been before, but explosive and inelegant, exacting more from Kain than he thought he could give. Kain indulged every urge he had, feeling entitled to his desires, deserving of everything he had ever wanted.

Rosa seemed to do the same, making her demands known in hot panting breaths against his neck. Kain obliged her and was rewarded for his efforts when she suddenly cried out, clutching him tighter, pulling him in closer.

Kain was lost, adrift in the overwhelming feeling of Rosa; she was his, and they both knew it. He would prove it soon to Cecil, and riding that high of superiority, Kain shuddered almost violently, then abruptly spent himself, his orgasm fierce and forceful. Throughout it, Rosa clung to his shoulders, like he was a rock in the fast-moving tide of a river and her only salvation from the rushing waters. Kain slowed, then stopped, and began to disentangle himself from her.

“Wait,” Rosa said, still holding on to him. “Let’s pretend, a little longer, that nothing exists outside of this room. Like the night at Mount Ordeals. Can we stay like this, for a short while?”

Kain hesitated but Rosa did not, pulling him back down to her. His head rested on her chest, and he could hear the wild thump of her heart’s beat beneath his ear. She stroked his hair, running her fingers through the long strands, the gesture surprisingly soothing.

“Stay,” she said again, like her words were magic and she could command him. It worked – Kain relaxed against her, feeling his eyelids flutter close. “Be safe with me, even if it’s a pretty lie. Believe it, please, for me.”

“We’re safe,” Kain said in a sleepy murmur. The day had been full of physical and emotional trials, from the battle against the Eidolons to this moment with Rosa. Lulled into a feeling of safety by Rosa’s gentle strokes of his hair, Kain promptly fell asleep.

When Kain awoke, he was alone, the small cot empty where Rosa had been. He sat up abruptly, looking around the cell and finding no sign of her, only the open cell door, idly swinging back and forth.

“Damn it,” Kain muttered as he stood. How long had she been gone? he wondered. Had this been Rosa’s last resort effort at escape, finally playing the card she’d kept so close to her chest? Rosa, clever and resourceful, as always, using any advantage she could.

Kain had to find her, and fast, before Golbez realized she was missing. As he finished buckling on the last piece of armor, Kain felt a needle prick sink into his mind.

Come, Golbez commanded. I have a task for you.

Yes, Master, Kain responded promptly, blanking out his mind, thinking of nothing but obedience.

Cecil has retrieved the Earth Crystal and is making his way back to Troia. Tomorrow morning, you’ll depart to meet him there. Guide his ship to the tower and Cecil will finally meet his end. Golbez sunk another needle in, probing deeply. And then you’ll finally be better at him in all things, not just bedding his woman.

Kain froze, his stomach lurching with the wrongness of it all, how his private thoughts could be so exposed and the unfairness of it all. Nothing in this tower is fair, Kain reminded himself, echoing his earlier words to Rosa.

Find her quickly, before the Delta Sisters do, Golbez warned Kain, offering a brief mental image of Rosa’s limp body dangling from Sandy’s long spear. Then prepare for tomorrow’s mission.

“Yes, Master,” Kain said out loud this time, knowing Golbez heard him anyway. Golbez heard everything, after all, knew everything and controlled everything.

Why had Kain ever tried to keep any corner of himself private? Golbez already knew the depth of Kain’s depravity and was not surprised by Kain’s terrible actions; perhaps Golbez had been expecting it and only wondered what had taken Kain so long.

“Rosa?” Kain called down the corridor past the cell. Where would she go? What was the clever thing to do? Would she go down to the docks, or up to the roof?

A distant giggle answered his query instead.

“Damn it all,” Kain hissed as he drew his lance from his shoulder. He had to find Rosa before the Delta Sisters did, not knowing what might happen to her if he could not, or what might happen if he did.

Chapter Text

The intricate circuitry of the Tower of Zot hummed around Kain as he exited the prison wing, a perpetual reminder of Barbariccia’s omnipresence. Trying to ignore both her and Golbez’s leeching occupation of his mind, Kain hurried down the corridor, desperate for any sign of where Rosa might have gone.  

Kain was not surprised to see the Delta Sisters in the next room but did not expect their gleeful demeanor. The youngest, Mindy, was bouncing up and down, daggers flashing. The middle sister, Sandy, grinned fiercely as she twirled her spear with a graceful expertise that looked almost dance-line, then slashed at the open air. Meanwhile, the eldest, Cindy, had her head tipped to the side, listening intently, eyes sparkling with interest. The circuitry in the walls spun faster around her and the wind whistled sharply as it circled the large, open floor. 

“Where is Rosa?” Kain demanded, of both the Delta Sisters and Barbariccia. 

Cindy straightened, no longer listening, and shook her head. “Barbariccia can’t locate her; she has her mouth covered.” Cindy smirked, amused. “What fun we’ll have once we find her,” she added, sounding oddly ominous.   

“Well, how did she get past you?” Kain asked, exasperated.  

Mindy giggled, still bouncing. “She dropped a Hold spell on all three of us and just ran,” she answered, eyes twinkling with delight.  

“Didn’t even get a chance to start our Delta Attack,” Sandy added, sounding impressed.  

“It was odd – the Paralyze lasted much longer than it should,” Cindy remarked, tapping her fingers on her pudgy chin as she thought. “We’ll have to split up and search each floor.” Cindy paused, said, then hefted her large scythe onto her shoulder. “Where will you go, Dragoon?” she asked, watching him too intently. 

Kain hesitated, combing through everything he knew about Rosa and what she might be thinking. Would she go up to the top floor, to use the arcane rune of power to amplify her Sight and Teleport spells? Or would she go down to the docks, and attempt to get onboard a departing airship? Did Rosa know the tower well enough to navigate to either?  

Following that thought, where did Rosa know where to go? Rosa would try and tread familiar territory if she could. She’d followed Kain before and watched as he navigated around the patrols on this floor above them, during their ill-fated escape attempt – could she have memorized that route? Would she try and go to the stables, because it was the safest way she knew out of the tower? 

“I’ll take the next floor up,” Kain finally answered, unsure if he was making a grave mistake. The chocobo stables were the easiest and most certain route – it made the most sense for her to go there, he decided. 

Cindy eyed him a moment longer, then nodded to the other two. If she was worried about Kain’s intentions, she would have been confident enough in Barbariccia’s surveillance to alert them. Either way, Kain didn’t want to stick around and risk further scrutiny. 

Squaring his shoulders, Kain strode past the three sisters. He missed the silent exchange between them: Sandy tipped her head in gesture toward Kain’s departing back, Mindy nodded excitedly, while Cindy slowly smiled – a wide, toothy expression that wasn’t quite human. 

On the next floor, Kain found evidence of Rosa quickly enough. As he turned around another corner, he discovered two Soldieresses sprawled out on the floor. Their throats were cut and still leaked blood, gathering in a small pool beneath their heads, mixing in with the strands of their blonde hair, making it look black in the tower’s eerie artificial lighting. For a moment, both looked like Rosa, then morphed into Elena, and Kain had to shake his head to dispel the images. 

How had Rosa done this? Kain wondered. He knew the Soldieresses; they were a group of Troian soldiers who had defected and joined Golbez in his quest for power. They were both beautiful and deadly, and it unnerved Kain to see them so methodically killed. How did Rosa do this? Kain asked himself. How could Rosa do this?  

As he passed through, he was shocked to see one of the Soldieresses was missing her sword, armor, shield and boots. While their armor was somewhat sparse for combat, the Soldieresses were lethal enough with their blades to keep any from getting close enough to strike their exposed bodies. 

Kain spotted bloody footprints beside the robbed Soldieress – had Rosa stepped through here to loot the corpse? Had she then disguised herself as a Soldieress to escape detection by patrols? Would Rosa do something so drastic, if it meant her freedom? 

It didn’t make sense, though. Even with Rosa’s magic and skills, she wasn’t capable of slaughtering two people. Or was she? As Kain looked over the bodies, he wasn’t sure anymore. He followed the red footprints until they became faint, then disappeared. 

Around another corner, a Marionetter knelt on the floor, the bodies of her Marionettes in torn pieces strewn across the floor. Tears streamed down her misshapen purple cheeks as her shoulders silently shook. She looked up at Kain’s approach and swallowed down a sob, quickly wiping her face with the hem of her headscarf.  

“What happened?” Kain asked, offering a hand to help the Marionetter up.  

The Marionetter was old (most were, it took decades to learn the art of supernatural puppetry) with her shoulders and back twisted in a crooked hump. With Kain’s help, she leveraged herself to standing.  

“A Soldieress came through here,” the Marionetter whispered, her voice trembling. “Only, she was looking odd. When I asked where she was going… she Paralyzed me and my babies,” the Marionetter sniffled hard. “Then I had to watch as she cut them apart,” she said, gesturing with a nod to the disassembled puppets. “Why?” 

How did Rosa’s Hold spell last so long?  Kain wondered, trying to suppress his admiration of Rosa’s cleverness.  

You should find out, Golbez suggested, radiating curiosity, reminding Kain again that his thoughts weren’t private.     

“Which way did she go?” Kain asked. Most of Golbez’s monsters and soldiers (was there a difference?) wouldn’t have notice a Soldieress on patrol; the Marionetter had been unlucky. 

The Marionetter lifted her wrinkled hand and gestured down one corridor. “That way,” she said with a sigh. 

What are you doing, Rosa? Kain wondered, too scared to guess at an answer. 

Kain reached the stables; there was a haunting emptiness to them, now knowing Val would never fly down to him to catch her dinner ever again. He went quickly past the stalls, into the open air outside. 

He saw Rosa immediately, standing on the end the platform, the stolen red armor highlighted sharply by the surrounding white clouds around the tower. The armor looked wrong on her, like a child playing dress up; the way it exposed her body looked garish and made Kain want to avert his eyes.  

With his lance sheathed at his back, Kain approached with his hands up and open. As he came closer, he saw Rosa hold the sword defensively; both her hands and the weapon were still wet with Soldieresses’ blood. A careless swipe of her fingers had smeared red across her forehead, like a morbid mark of baptism. 

But Rosa’s stance and grip were wrong. Kain knew he could disarm her easily, but he dismissed that idea. She stood too close to the edge and might topple over if there was a struggle. 

“Stay back!” Rosa demanded, her voice high in panic, eyes wide and fearful. 

Kain stopped abruptly, his hands still up. “Rosa,” he said, trying to sound gentle, like he approached a half wild animal. “You only have a little bit of time before Barbariccia drags you back inside.” He paused, considering his next words thoughtfully. “Don’t wait for me. Teleport out. It doesn’t matter where you go – anywhere is better than here.” 

Rosa’s eyes instantly watered, and she blinked back tears. “I can’t,” she whispered, barely audible. “I never learned Teleport. Baron is so mobile with airships, so why would I? And I’ve been trying to figure out how to cast it since arriving in Zot.” She drew in a shuddering breath, then exhaled shakily. “And I just can’t.” 

Kain was stunned; it was the first time he had ever seen Rosa fail at something and the notion was deeply disturbing. “Rosa…” he started to say but trailed off. What could he say that would undo any of the hurt he’d inflicted on her? 

“Besides,” Rosa continued, as if Kain had not spoken. “Barbariccia isn’t coming after me.” She looked over her shoulder, over the edge of the platform. Below, the open ocean twinkled in the morning sunshine. “She wants me gone,” Rosa said as she looked back at Kain, her voice solemn. “She’s wildly jealous of your… affection for me. She will not miss me.” 

“She won’t let you escape the tower,” Kain said. 

Rosa shook her head slowly. “You’re right. I won’t escape but I will be free.” She took half a step backward, her foot dangerously close to the edge. “Cecil’s going to die climbing this horrible tower and you’re more of a...” she hesitated, the word monster left unspoken. “...you lose more of yourself every day,” she said, instead, the words watery with tears. “I can’t watch Golbez destroy both of you.” 

Kain knew that Rosa would inevitably lose faith in him, but it surprised him that she doubted Cecil as well. Golbez, Barbariccia and the Delta Sisters (and Kain himself, but he wouldn’t admit it yet) had finally broken her, shattering her belief that she would survive this ordeal.  

“Rosa,” Kain said, trying not to sound worried but failing. “You’re wrong. Barbariccia won’t let you escape, even by death. She’ll bring you back.” 

“Will she?” Rosa asked, casting another glance over her shoulder, then back to Kain again. “Or will she claim it was an accident and she was seconds too late? It won’t matter then. Golbez has already baited the trap for Cecil; he doesn’t need to keep me alive any longer. The only reason Golbez still keeps me around is to have someone witness his triumphs.” 

“Rosa, don’t do this,” Kain pleaded, no longer pretending to be stoic. “You can’t leave me.” 

“It’s too much,” Rosa said, her voice going high with emotion. “You can’t ask that of me, to stay here and endure more. Golbez and his cruelty; the Delta Sisters and their games; Barbariccia and her deadly jealousy; and you—” she broke off with an abrupt sob. The sword clattered to the ground as Rosa dropped it, her hands covering her face as she cried. “I can’t be hurt by you anymore. I can’t do it.” 

“Rosa—” Kain tried to say. 

“You’ll never leave me alone,” Rosa said, cutting Kain off. “Imprisoned in Zot or free anywhere else, you’ll never let me live my life. You love Cecil more than anyone else, but when I try to do the same, you won’t let me because you were too afraid I’ll love him more than I love you.” Rosa took a shuddering breath in. “Kain, that was never going to happen. I love you so much it terrifies me, but you’ve never stopped hoping Cecil might one day return your feelings. You don’t want me, yet will not leave me alone, perpetually offering me false hope. How can I love anyone else when you won’t let me?” 

“Rosa, I’m sorry,” Kain said. “I don’t know how to escape from here or how to clear my mind of Golbez’s influence. But you can’t give up yet; I need you. I don’t know how to exist without you.” 

A profound sadness shadowed Rosa’s face before she looked aside from Kain. “It’ll never change,” Rosa murmured, more to herself than to him. She slid her foot back, heel hanging over the platform’s edge. 

“Don’t!” Kain started toward her, his hands reaching, but before he could get to her, she took the full step backward – off the edge, away from the tower, and away from Kain. He saw Rosa’s brief look of relief as she fell. Kain shouted in surprise and grabbed for her, but she plummeted away. 

“Rosa!” Kain shouted after her. He had only a second to consider the details: the stables were about the upper middle of the tower, and Rosa, while wearing armor, flailed her arms and legs as she fell, somewhat slowing her descent. If Kain Jumped now, he might just be able to reach her before… 

I will not catch you, Barbariccia warned. The insistent wind tugged at Kain, trying to pull him back away from the edge. She is not worth it. Stay with me instead and we’ll be unstoppable together.  

Kain hesitated, his cowardice tempted by Barbariccia’s offer.  

Can you do this? Cecil asked incredulously from Kain’s memory, as if Cecil could somehow still be surprised by how low Kain could be. Kain remembered Cecil looking down at him from the ship’s railing, eyes full of hope and trust; Cecil would still hold him to that long-ago promise. Kain knew then his heart could not let Cecil or Rosa go, endlessly trapped between them. 

Kain Jumped, aiming his body downward. He sliced cleanly through the air, like a dark bird dive bombing for prey in the water. He saw Rosa below him, legs and arms still wildly waving as she fell. He caught up to her quickly, and when he reached for her, instead of fighting him, Rosa grabbed at him with desperate arms, clinging as tightly to him as she had when they fell together toward Mount Ordeals.  

“I’ve got you!” Kain shouted over the roaring winds, unsure if she could hear him. In response, Rosa buried her face in his shoulder, her hair flying up into his face, partially obscuring his vision. Through the blonde strands, he could see the bottom of Zot; a craggy island no wider than the tower itself; around them was the dazzling blue sea. At this angle, they would hit the water, but at this speed, the impact would still kill them.  

“Barbariccia!” Kain called out, as he knew Barbariccia wanted, but the buffeting winds provided no reply. As the ocean below rapidly drew closer, panic began to set in. Was Barbariccia not going to rescue him? “ Please! ” Kain pleaded. He could smell the salt of the nearby water.  

It is not Barbariccia you need beg, Golbez prompted, smug. 

“GOLBEZ!” Kain screamed into the chaos of the wind and into his own mind. I’ll do anything; I’ll be yours; I’ll serve you and gather all the Crystals; I’ll get you Cecil; anything, anything, please, please don’t let us die.  

A cyclone appeared below them, sucking them forcefully in; the wind gusted around them, sending them flying back up through the air. Unceremoniously, the cyclone dropped them, sending both Rosa and Kain sprawling out on the ground, back at the stables. 

As Kain rolled to his back, he saw Golbez standing over him. Still dazed from the fall, Kain scrambled to stand up. 

Beyond Golbez, the Delta Sisters scampered over to Rosa. Sandy hoisted Rosa up by the shoulders and effortlessly hauled Rosa up to her feet, while Mindy hopped around like an excited child and Cindy watched with grim satisfaction. Barbariccia could not be seen but the tension in the air spoke of her sulking presence.  

“I tire of these theatrics,” Golbez said, his voice stern. “You offer yourself to me, Kain Highwind, yet hold back. You try to keep your thoughts hidden and think you can scheme and plot.” Golbez looked up, watching as Rosa unsuccessfully fought Sandy’s grip. Rosa kicked and swung her arms, but the hold of Sandy’s longer arms was implacable. It was only with Mindy’s small dagger pressed against her exposed midriff that Rosa finally stilled. “You have a choice, now, as will all creatures on this planet,” Golbez continued, still watching Rosa. “Total loyalty, or oblivion.”  

“I serve you, Master,” Kain answered automatically, as he thought Golbez wanted. 

“Not enough anymore,” Golbez said, his hands wreathed in pulsing magic. “Come forth, my Shadow,” Golbez called, surprisingly gentle. Kain had only seen a summoner’s magic twice before, but it was unforgettable how the air thickened with immense power and purpose.  

A portal appeared in front of Golbez; Shadow, looking like an inky shadow in the bright sunshine, promptly slithered out, then coiled around Golbez’s shoulders. Golbez pointed at Rosa with one hand; Shadow wound around his arm, then drifted lazily through the air toward Rosa. 

Rosa, seeing the approaching wyrm, began to breathe heavily, unable to move under Mindy’s dagger. Shadow curled around Rosa, the wyrm’s body like drifting smoke in the bright sunlight. 

“A question for you, Rosa,” Golbez said, now addressing her; he rarely spoke directly to Rosa, usually speaking about her as if she was not there, just another asset to be played on the war map. But now, something had about her had obviously caught his attention. “How did your Hold spell last so long?” Golbez asked. 

Rosa looked briefly surprised, then narrowed her eyes. “I have nothing to say to you.” 

At Rosa’s unhelpful answer, Shadow hissed, mouth opening wide. Rosa immediately lost the look of defiance, now wide-eyed with terror. She shook her head at the sight of Shadow’s terrible black fangs. “No,” she protested, her voice small. Rosa closed her eyes as Shadow drew closer, the hot breath from her nostrils making Rosa’s hair flutter with each exhale. 

“No?” Golbez said; he gestured absently, and Shadow circled around Rosa then slithered away. Rosa heaved a sigh of relief, until she realized Shadow’s next target: Kain. 

Kain took an unsure step backwards as Shadow approached, slow and circuitous, like she was hunting between the drifting clouds. But Golbez had another spell in hand, Kain realized too late, as magic bands circled around Kain and tightened, the spell’s embrace devastatingly cold. Kain gave a strangled cry as the spell forced him to his knees. 

“Leave him alone,” Rosa said, though the demand lacked her usual determination, her voice trembling.  

“Paralyze has a short duration,” Golbez continued, ignoring Rosa’s plea even as he spoke to her. “You shouldn’t have had enough time to kill the Soldieresses or the Marionettes. So how did you extend the spell?” 

“I...” Rosa hesitated, looking uncertainly back at Kain. 

Shadow hissed and her mouth opened again, fangs bared. Only now Kain could see what Rosa had seen and understood her immense fear – past the dripping black fangs was nothing but a void, its emptiness deeply unsettling. The troubling darkness beckoned Kain, inviting him in, offering safety and acceptance. It would be so easy, it promised, to just trust that it knew what was best for Kain. 

Kain was still lost in the stupor when Shadow grazed her teeth against Kain’s exposed jaw; it felt strangely affectionate. 

“I combined Slow and Hold!” Rosa suddenly blurted out. “Paralyze’s duration is based on time, so if the target is Slowed, then Paralyze lasts longer.” 

“Interesting,” Golbez said, sounding sincere. He nodded to Sandy behind Rosa, who promptly let Rosa go; Mindy also relaxed, withdrawing her knife from Rosa’s belly. “Can you combine other spells?” 

Rosa straightened, looking uncertainly between Kain, still dazed, and Golbez, who watched her through the dark visor of his impassive helmet. “In theory, I think so. Originally, I was trying to...” she hesitated. 

“To what?” Golbez prompted. “What spells were you trying to combine to escape here?” 

“Teleport and Sight,” Rosa answered, her eyes distant on the horizon, as if she might spot Baron if she looked hard enough – not just the place, but the memory of what home used to mean for her. She blinked away unshed tears. “It didn’t work,” she finished flatly. 

“Clever,” Golbez said, nodding more to himself than to her. Then, “But it worked for Hold and Paralyze. Perhaps it would for other combinations.” 

“Perhaps,” Rosa agreed reluctantly, now watching Golbez warily.  

“What about Life and Esuna?” Golbez asked. “Could you attempt it? Right now?” 

Rosa considered the request, her brow wrinkled in thought. “For that, there’d have to be someone near death, and—” 

Before Rosa could finish, Shadow sunk her fangs in Kain’s skin, under his jaw where his pulse thundered. Shadow’s venom burned as it pumped into the artery, and Kain could feel a new coldness spreading through his limbs with each erratic beat of his heart. 

As the greedy darkness closed in on him, his vision rapidly shrinking, Kain could hear Rosa hysterically screaming his name. 

“Kain?” Someone called out; it sounded strangely distant and distorted. “Kain?” It was closer now, a girl’s voice. Was it Rosa? “Kain, wake up!” the girl insisted, sounding more distinct now; her Troian accent gave her away. “Your mother’s looking for you,” Elena warned. 

It was enough to prompt Kain back to awareness. He opened his eyes to find himself cradled by overlapping branches, high up in a tree. He knew this tree, Kain realized; it was his favorite to climb, offering the best view of all of Baron Village. He must have fallen asleep here again, Kain reasoned. 

He jumped down, landing comfortably next to girl-Elena. She was dressed as Rosa often was in their childhood when she was eager for adventure; too loose trousers belted up and cinched to fit her waist, a practical tunic with deep pockets for treasures, boots caked in mud that Rosa kept for gardening and exploring the river. And in Elena’s hair were two blue hair ribbons, streaming between the glossy black strands of her dark hair. 

“Aren’t you my mother?” Kain asked, confused. He realized he, too, was his child-self.  

“The Great Mother is looking for you,” Elena corrected him. “When our bodies break down, we return to the mother, and she creates new life. She gives our death purpose.” 

“What does she want with me?” Kain asked, fearing he already knew the answer. “Am I dead?” he asked, the question small. 

“Do you want to be dead?” Elena asked, not flippantly, but in earnest. “If you’re ready to be done with this life, then seek out the Great Mother. She will ease your passing through this phase of the life and death cycle.” 

“What about you?” Kain asked, surprised by the sudden emotion in the question. “Are you dead again? Did Cassia kill you in Troia?” 

Elena smirked; it was odd to see Kain’s own expression mirrored back at him. “Not permanently.” 

“Why haven’t you come back, then?” Kain asked. “Why are you still here, lingering?”  

She reached out and took his hand in hers, reminiscent of the childhood gesture he’d shared with Rosa. “I wasn’t sure what to do. I still don’t know. If you want to go back, I’ll go with you. But if you’re ready to be done with this life, then I’m ready too.” 

It suddenly seemed so easy. Kain would go to the Great Mother, and she’d take him into her arms, offering comfort in a way Kain had never experienced before. He could finally know peace. For the first time in his life, he’d have his mother. 

“What about Rosa?” Kain asked, the reality of the current moment and its danger finally coming back to him. “I can’t leave her alone in Zot.” 

“Joanna’s girl is still there?” Elena asked, frowning. 

“I tried,” Kain said, feeling pathetic even as he said it. “I couldn’t escape with her.” He looked away, knowing he should feel shame and the absence of it so much worse. 

“You have to go back and try again,” Elena said firmly. With Kain’s hand still in hers, she began to lead him away from the tree. “Joanna doesn’t deserve to lose her daughter too.” 

Kain stopped abruptly, yanking his hand from hers. “What happened between you two? Why do you care so much about Joanna after she betrayed you?” 

Elena looked confused. “What are you talking about? She didn’t...” Elena hesitated, then shook her head. “Before I died, we fought...” she paused again, trying to find the right words. “We disagreed on how to resolve a problem. I was angry and hurt, and I wanted her to be hurt too.” Elena closed her eyes against whatever painful memory had surfaced. “I can never right the wrong I’ve done to Joanna, but we can try and help her daughter.” 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Kain protested. “She’s the one who hurt you.” 

Overhead, a cloud passed over the sun, dramatically dimming the bright afternoon into shadows. The smell of freshly turned earth filled the air. Distantly, Kain could hear a woman’s soft voice singing. He didn’t know the words, but the tune was like a memory he’d never remembered having.  

“Forget the past,” Elena hissed as she pulled on Kain’s hand, dragging him into a run behind her. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Go back to the living and be the man you want to be.” 

“I can’t!” Kain gulped for air as he ran but felt suffocated by the overwhelming grave smell. “Golbez controls too much of me.” 

Elena stopped abruptly, dropping Kain’s hand again. She wore Rosa’s expression of anger, and the effect made the dreamscape distort and warp around them. “Excuses,” Elena said, clipped. “You give Golbez control because it’s easier than making decisions for yourself and being responsible for the consequences.” 

The woman’s eerie singing came closer.  

“Stay here and surrender,” Elena said. “Or go back and fight. But you can’t stand still any longer.” She sighed and some of the anger left on her exhalation, her shoulders sinking. “I know because I made the same mistake.” She sighed. “I still am.” 

“What do I do?” Kain asked. 

“Figure out how to free the part of yourself Golbez has hidden,” Elena said, as if it were simple. “Try to remember what he has made you forget exists.” 

A long shadow fell over them. Kain looked up to see the dark wings of a massive Zu filling the sky; no, it was the shadow of Mount Ordeals, beckoning Kain to return; no, it was Elena standing too tall, holding Kain as a baby, blood dribbling out of her mouth, spilling onto baby-Kain's head and face. 

“Go!” child-Elena whispered urgently, pushing at Kain. Hand-in-hand, they ran through the streets of the village. It was a childhood fear come alive, like urgently dashing up the cellar steps to escape the potential monsters who lurked in unknown darkness. Together, they ran, lungs bursting, muscles screaming, hearts pounding, panic licking at their heels, somehow keeping them just one step ahead. 

Kain didn’t know how they got there, but suddenly they were at a cliffside, a sharp drop off into the ocean below, with craggy rocks jutting up into the water. Strangely, there was no wind around them, no birds’ shrill cries overhead, no waves crashing against the cliff face, only an eerie silence that grew more ominous as the shadow continued its approach.  

“There’s only one way back,” Elena said, as she peered down the cliff. With the shadow behind them blocking out the sun, the water was cast in darkness, making it look inky and black. Like the deep void between Shadow’s teeth, like the pool of blood drawn from Cecil’s knife point, like the empty eyes of the dead as they look off into oblivion. “Can you do this?” Elena asked. Did she know what it meant? How could anyone visit Kain’s dreams and not know how much that question both haunted and saved him? 

“What about you?” Kain asked; the shadow around them deepened, stealing the color from the sky. 

“I’ll come find you and help you and Rosa get free,” Elena said, squeezing his fingers. “Will you jump with me, Kain? Do you trust me?” 

Kain felt fingers grip his shoulder from behind and an icy breath in his ear. Go to sleep, my love. It is time to rest.  

“Yes!” Kain answered, surging ahead, Elena at his side. They jumped and plunged together into the waiting darkness. 

Chapter Text

“Kain,” Rosa said his name like a prayer, and it somehow parted the darkness. “Come back, please.” Her voice was tight with tears. “Don’t leave me here alone.”

Come back, pawn. Golbez echoed Rosa’s demand directly into Kain’s mind, as Golbez pushed curiously against the edges of Kain’s consciousness. We are not done yet.

Their combined summoning pulled at Kain, plucking away at his resolve to be unaware of himself. He considered fighting against it, to stay unconscious a while longer, just to delay the nightmare that waited for him upon waking.

“He’ll hurt me more if you’re not here,” Rosa softly murmured next to Kain’s ear, as if that would hide her plea from Golbez hearing it. “Please, Kain, please.”

It was enough, Kain knew; he could not refuse Rosa like this, not ever.

Kain jumped toward waking.

Kain woke to the blue glow of the Sanctuary’s Ward, with Rosa’s hand in his. For one hopeful heartbeat, Kain thought he was back at Mount Ordeals with Rosa, on the most perfect night of his life. But then he saw Golbez over Rosa’s shoulder, dark and looming, casting a long shadow against the wall, that stretched and dimmed with each pulse of the ward. Golbez was unarmored, and his uncanny features only made him somehow more intimidating.

“Kain,” Rosa breathed a sigh of relief as Kain sat up in his cot. “How do you feel? Can you feel all your limbs?”

“He’s fine,” Golbez interrupted, his hand on Rosa’s shoulder, drawing her back from Kain, forcing her let go of Kain’s hands. “You’re a more accomplished mage than I expected.”

“I need to check him,” Rosa protested, trying to twist out of Golbez’s grip and turn back to Kain. But Golbez only grabbed her shoulder harder and yanked her backward; she was startled into compliance, moving back from Kain. “Okay,” she said, holding her hands up. “What magic would you like to see from me next?” she asked through clenched teeth. “Will you summon your depraved doctor to see how he might twist my spells?”

“No,” Golbez answered dismissively. “For now, you may rest and await Cecil’s arrival. You will bear witness, as he struggles to climb the tower. If he survives that far, he’ll find his doom waiting for him.”

“Why does that matter to you?” Rosa asked, gently, her hands lowered. “I understand your quest for power. But to kill Cecil and make me watch – what does that cruelty gain you?”

Golbez looked briefly surprised, before he mastered himself, expression neutral again. “It does not matter,” he said, shaking his head. “What matters is that Cecil will bring me the Earth Crystal and I will be one step closer to ultimate power.”

“Why make him climb the tower first?” Rosa pressed; Kain wondered if she was clever or insane to question Golbez so directly. “To what purpose? Only to maximize pain and suffering from Cecil, but why? Who is Cecil to you, to want to hurt him so much? Why do you two look so much—”

“Enough,” Golbez’s deep voice boomed. “The Delta Sisters will escort you to your quarters.”

Rosa deflated, her shoulders sinking, making her look smaller and vulnerable, but she did not argue further. Instead, she looked uncertainly at Kain, her brow knit with concern. She didn’t say anything to him either, however, only silently drew away.

As Rosa opened the door and stepped out, Kain would hear the Delta Sisters giggling on the other side. As he stood from the cot, his stomach sank with dismay, but with Golbez still leaning on his mind, Kain knew better than to risk saying anything in disobedient protest.

“I’ve offered you everything you’ve ever wanted,” Golbez said, after the door clicked closed behind Rosa, “even the ones you try and hide in the private corners in your mind and pretend are not there.”

“I...” Kain had no words to deny it, because they both knew the truth of it.

“If Cecil were to extend his forgiveness, would you rejoin him?” Golbez asked. Without the anonymity of his helmet, Golbez looked uncomfortable as he next asked, “After all I have done for you, and all you have done for me, would you really betray me for him? Would you be twice a turncoat?”

“Yes,” Kain admitted quietly, unable to lie to Golbez.

“You long endlessly for things you pretend you do not want,” Golbez said, his eyes narrowed in an angry glare, more terrifying than his horned helmet had ever been. “So when they are offered, you can protest that you do not actually want them and then blame me. We both know the truth. You are a selfish creature, Kain Highwind, who seeks to indulge your base desires while pretending you can still be a hero. I will tell you now: You are not a hero. Heroes will not re-design the world; I will.”

 Golbez paused, his anger forgotten and the calm mask back on. Then, in a cold voice, he continued, “Now, ask me again why I am making Cecil climb the tower.”

“Why are you making Cecil climb the tower?” Kain repeated obediently, feeling numb in the face of Golbez’s accuracy.

“Because,” Golbez slowly smiled, looking smug, and despite Golbez’s eerie resemblance to Cecil, it was an expression Kain had never seen Cecil wear, “if he makes his way to the top, then you and I will face him. He will be weary and worn down, full of hatred for what we put him and Rosa through. He may be a paladin now, but no man could endure what we’ve done to him and not hate us. And hatred is the key to understanding.”

“What do you mean?” Kain asked.

“Great things can be accomplished through hatred,” Golbez said. “It isn’t enough for Cecil to just die, but he must die fully broken.”

“He will never yield,” Kain protested.

“No? You couldn’t make him?” Golbez suggested. At Kain’s stony silence, Golbez shrugged, seemingly indifferent. Kain either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the aura of power around Golbez as magic gathered around them. “Perhaps not. Either way, you’ll kill Cecil and be rid of him. Rosa will witness and know you are better. You will have everything.”

“If Cecil is defeated, I’ll have everything,” Kain murmured, more to himself than to Golbez, the words permeating his psyche, binding him to its suggestion. Kain did not see Golbez, wreathed in purple magic, his brow furrowed in concentration as he rearranged Kain’s thoughts.

Kain had learned that Golbez always knew better and could handle Cecil, finally freeing Kain from his obsessive rivalry. All would be better in Kain’s life once Cecil was subservient and then dead. “Thank you,” Kain said sincerely, his fear of Golbez now twisted into relieved gratitude.

“Deliver Cecil to me,” Golbez issued the command, both verbally and booming into Kain’s mind; sweat beaded Golbez’s forehead and his voice strangely strained. “Then you’ll finally be free to be who you really are.”

“Who I really am,” Kain echoed absently, his eyes distant and unfocused.

“Go,” Golbez commanded through clenched teeth. The tense aura of power around them instantly dissipated as Golbez exhaled in relief, like he was finally letting go of a heavy weight after holding it too long.

Kain blinked hard, suddenly too aware of himself in his body. He looked down at his hands, unsure, like he’d just woken from sleep. In fact, hadn’t he just woken up? The glow of the Sanctuary Ward made everything so dreamlike; it was hard to tell.

Your ship is ready, Barbariccia tugged insistently at Kain’s hair. Come, you must obey our master, she reminded him, surprisingly gentle, despite all that had transpired earlier.

“I will bring you Cecil,” Kain said with grim determination. “Master,” he added with an eerie smile.

Don’t, begged something so deeply buried inside himself that Kain could no longer recall its name.

Kain pretended not to hear it.

As Kain made his way to the tower’s ship dock, where the Scarlet Prelude waited, the wind pushed him impatiently. Barbariccia herself was nowhere to be seen. In the background, Kain could hear the faint hum of her voice, like an irritated bee beside his ear, but he could not make out the words. It was as though she spoke to another, the sound muffled through a wall.

“What’s wrong?” Kain finally asked.

Nothing, the wind insisted, sounding annoyed. If you would only hurry, the ship is ready to depart.

“Wait,” called out a voice. Kain stopped, then turned to see Richard hurrying to catch up. Behind him was another, wearing Albert’s green dragoon armor, the draconic helm masking the wearer’s identity. Kain tried to tell himself that the dragoon’s gait wasn’t familiar at all.

As they both stopped before Kain, the wind around them picked up, whirling in angry protest.

“This is not my choice, Barbariccia,” Richard said, exasperated. “But we must both do as Lord Golbez commands.”

The air around them calmed somewhat, though high overhead, the wind continued to shriek and whistle.

“Fine.” Richard adjusted his helmet, then looked ahead at Kain. “Are you prepared to depart for Troia?”

“What’s going on?” Kain asked.

“Barbariccia’s pouting,” Richard answered glumly, as he continued past Kain now, down the dock toward the ship.

“But why? And why are you coming to Troia?” Kain asked. The wind around him turned icily cold, sneaking into the exposed joints of his armor, poking frigid fingers against his skin.

You shouldn’t even have to go, Barbariccia’s warm whisper ghosted around Kain’s neck, in welcome contrast to the chill. Let Richard go to Troia and stay here with me instead, her voice was hot and breathy against his ear,  I’ll find a way to keep you distracted.

Determined to ignore Barbariccia, Kain took a steady breath as he hastened to follow Richard. Behind him, Kain heard the green-dragoon’s heavy tread as they followed; Kain tried unsuccessfully to shrug off the sense of overwhelming dread he felt.

“It doesn’t matter,” Richard said tersely as Kain reached the end of the dock, where the gangway to the Scarlet Prelude’s deck waited.

The green dragoon stopped beside Kain. “Don’t lie to the boy,” he said, his voice, although raspy, was too familiar to deny any longer.

“Albert?” Kain asked, still hoping he was wrong.

In answer, the dragoon pulled his helm off, tucking it under his arm. In the harshly bright sunshine, Albert’s face was too pale and sallow, his eyes black and empty, the skin around them already beginning to decay. Kain saw, then, how Albert carefully held the helmet left-handed, as if unused to the weight; Kain looked at Albert’s right hand and realized it was missing entirely, the wrist ending in a blunt stump, wrapped in linens.

“It’s okay, Kain,” Albert said, dispassionate and sedate. “The Earth Mother has chosen me. I am… honored.”

“What happened?” Kain asked, already knowing the answer.

“That bitch slaughtered Albert and then resurrected him as her thrall,” Richard spat. “Now he claims she’s risen again and is summoning him to Troia.” Richard threw his hands up in frustration. “And because Golbez believes she may know how to resurrect Scarmiglione, here we are, off to dig Elena out of yet another grave.”

Albert said nothing, though his jaw was tight with tension.

“And no one is fucking happy about it!” Richard added, shouting up at the sky. The wind was silent in sulky response. Richard sighed, then looked back to Kain. “I don’t know why she can’t just stay dead.”

“Joanna’s girl,” Kain blurted out, unexpectedly. Albert and Richard exchanged surprised looks. “I…” Kain stammered, unsure of how to explain. “I nearly died, and I saw Elena. She spoke of how she’d wronged Joanna and owed it to her to rescue Rosa. She told me she’d follow me back to… to help us escape.”

Barbariccia’s howling wail was suddenly all around them, drowning out all other sounds. Kain covered his ears, watching Richard as he gestured angrily and shouted wordlessly into the wind.

You will never escape this tower, Barbariccia hissed between Kain’s fingers. Rosa will never leave. She’ll jump over and over, begging for death, and I’ll catch her every time. No one will stop me, not you, not Richard, not Elena!

“Enough, Barbariccia,” Albert declared coldly, sounding so unlike himself. “This comes from Golbez himself; you will not interfere.”

The wind around them stilled and quieted, no longer roaring in Kain’s ears.

“Come, Kain,” Albert said, although he glared at Richard. “You may not get honesty from your parents, but I think it’s finally time for the truth.”

Richard took half a step toward them, eyes suddenly wide with fear; the sight of it deeply troubled Kain. “What do you mean, Albert?”

“I will tell Kain what I know,” Albert said, choosing his words slowly and carefully. “And only what I know.”  He gestured with his stump for Kain to follow as he stepped onto the gangway to board the ship.

“Only what you know,” Richard repeated quietly; relief softened the harsh and tired lines of his face.

“I am so tired of secrets,” Kain said to no one specifically as he hurried after Albert.

“Some things are better left unknown,” Richard muttered as he followed; it sounded like a warning.

Kain would regret not listening.

Cecil’s ghost was waiting for Kain as he entered the Scarlet Prelude’s captain’s quarters.

Can you believe it’s mine? the memory asked, awed. Cecil stood before the windows at the back of the room, open to the skies behind the ship. Although it was daytime with sunshine spilling in, in Kain’s mind, Cecil’s eyes were full of moonlight instead. Odin had it commissioned specifically for me.

Now it’s mine, Kain told himself and the ghost. He looked around the room – the narrow bed and chest, the table with its maps, the small cabinet full of clinking glass bottles, the desk and chair tucked into one corner – and could not help but see Cecil everywhere. Was there anywhere in here that Cecil had not touched? Kain blinked hard, but still Cecil’s haunting image lingered.

“Can I convince you to desert?” Albert asked as he followed Kain inside. Below their feet, the engine rumbled to life, rattling the wood planks of the floor. “Troia is isolated enough. You could hide there while this world battle finishes playing out.” Despite the plea, Albert’s voice was emotionless and monotone. “If physically apart, could you escape Golbez?”

A cold sweat broke out down Kain’s back, making his skin tingle painfully. “No,” he said, the word strangled in his throat. “There is nowhere I could hide that he can’t reach.”

Somewhere back at the Tower of Zot, Golbez smiled.

“I see,” Albert said. He turned away from Kain, toward the windows. He watched absently as the ship shuddered into motion, then turned, putting the Tower of Zot behind them. The tower shrank from view as the ship began its flight.

“Is it true?” Kain asked, looking aside from Albert, unable to bear the emptiness in his eyes. “Did Elena really kill and resurrect you?”

“It’s true,” Albert confirmed tonelessly. “Do not grieve for me, Kain. My death has a purpose when few others do. I just wish…”  Albert hesitated, searching for the right words. “If I could spare you from the horror that’s about to unfold, I would, but soon it comes for everyone. But Kain, you, above all others, should know why.”

“Why?”

“Love,” Albert said simply, as if that would answer everything.

“Love?” Kain repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Do you really want to know this?” Albert asked quietly. “You could just be Kain, without the weight of this knowledge to drag you down.”

Is this what you want, Kain?  child Rosa asked from the memory of that cold rainy day they snuck into the infirmary. Kain could feel her fingers threaded through his, and how brave he'd been with her at his side. Kain made a fist instead, trying to flex out the memory of her warm skin against his chilly palm.

“Tell me,” Kain whispered, not trusting his voice.

Albert was silent for a long moment, then crossed the small room to the cabinet. He opened it and took out one glass and a bottle full of amber liquid. Awkwardly one-handed, he twisted the bottle’s top off, then sloshed the liquor into the glass; Kain was too paralyzed by the sight of Albert struggling, he didn’t think to offer help. As Albert was putting the cap back on, he gestured to the drink with a nod. “Drink it; you’ll need it.”

Obediently, Kain took the glass and a large gulp, grateful as it burned down his throat and into his stomach.

Albert closed his eyes briefly, then opened them, still black even in the bright sunlight. “I was the first friend your mother made in Baron. Elena came to the training yard, looking for a sparring partner. But Baron had only a few women knights in its history, and none when Elena joined the ranks. All the men avoided her or gave excuses not to fight her.”

“Except you?” Kain prompted when Albert went quiet.

“Except me,” Albert confirmed, and Kain wondered if he regretted that long ago decision. “She was terrifying opponent.” He paused, looking down at his stump. “Still is,” he added quietly. “We became friends after that, and Elena gained admirers. Despite all the attention, Elena told me she left behind her heart in Troia and had no use for romance any longer. Instead, she wanted to focus on her career and training.”

“The dark knight training?” Kain asked. He drained the rest of the glass and put it back on the table.

“Yes,” Albert confirmed, frowning at the memory or the empty glass; Kain wasn’t sure. “You know from Cecil’s experience how much it takes from a person. Elena struggled, often finding herself consumed by dark thoughts. And then, like Cecil, Elena found someone she could love through all the pain.”

“Richard?” Kain asked quietly, no longer certain.

“That’s what I thought, at the time. But now I’m not so certain. Elena was intensely private about her personal life. I knew she was seeing someone but not whom. Then Richard began openly courting her. Elena became even more secretive and stopped confiding in me. At the time, I thought it was because I was Richard’s subordinate, but now I wonder what else she might have been hiding.”

“What about Joanna and Richard?” Kain asked. “Did something happen between them? In my memory-dreams on Mount Ordeals, he behaved so strangely around her and then fought with Roland. Why?”

Albert frowned deeply, but did not answer, letting the weight of the question why? hang heavily between them. Then, he sighed. “When Richard finally went through Elena’s things, not only did he find evidence of her dark knight training, but her love letters, not knowing who authored them.”

Albert stopped to consider Kain, looking uncertain. Whatever doubts he had, Albert seemed to shrug them aside as he continued, “Richard had always prided himself on winning Elena. Discovering her deceptions and true feelings enraged him. He told me he had chosen the wrong woman, and he meant to win Joanna back from Roland.”

Albert paused again to consider his words before continuing cautiously, “If something did end up happening between them, though, I’m not sure.”

“Which is why Richard and Roland were fighting on the ship,” Kain suggested as the pieces finally seemed to be coming together. “But why was Cid’s prototype bomb there? How was it set off?”

“Odin put it there,” Albert answered grimly. “An unknown airship was sighted near the Tower of Babil, so Odin sent Richard there with the bomb; he didn’t want airship technology in anyone else’s hands. The bomb was designed so a dragoon could plant it on an enemy ship and Jump away before detonation, but Richard set it off on their own ship instead.”

“And the mysterious airship was Golbez’s?” Kain guessed.

“The Falcon,” Albert confirmed with a nod. “Who then rescued Richard with Barbariccia’s help.”

“But what does this have to do with me?” Kain asked. “And why does Joanna hate me so much?”

Albert said nothing, looking aside.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Kain pressed, more afraid of the answer than of Albert’s silence, but needing to ask anyway. “Tell me, Albert, please.”

“This is speculation, Kain,” Albert said carefully. “But Elena was researching strange, dark magics. It looked like she may have been trying to combine spells.”

“Like what?” Kain asked, feeling suddenly sick.

“I think she was experimenting with blood magic to enhance other practices, like brewing potions with and tempering a blade in blood. She wrote extensive notes theorizing how it might be used to summon Eidolons, to bypass the Summoners’ Code. I think her death was accidental while she was trying to cast something, and I think that…” Albert hesitated, again.

“Albert, please,” Kain pleaded.

“I think she may have bound you to some purpose,” Albert continued, reluctantly. “I think whatever darkness Elena found in herself, she somehow put into you too while in her womb. I think that’s what makes you so susceptible to Golbez’s influence.”

Interesting, Golbez remarked, a fishhook yank reminding Kain of his constant presence.

“I was created to hurt someone,” Kain said quietly to himself. “The product of a spurned lover.”

“Exactly,” Albert agreed soberly.

“Why is Richard worried about you telling me this?” Kain asked, now curious about his father’s earlier anxiety. “You said you’d only tell me what you know – what speculation worries him so much?”

“Ah,” Albert clicked his tongue in thought. “Richard believes Elena had the affair during their marriage.”

“He suspects that he’s not my father?” Kain asked in disbelief.

“He fears it,” Albert corrected Kain. “He may be distant and aloof with you, but he fears not being your father more than anything else.”

Kain’s stomach twisted uncertainly. “Oh.”

“I should go,” Albert said, then nodded toward the narrow bed. “Get some rest before Troia, if you can.”

Kain regarded the bed uncertainly, doubtful he could sleep, but the heaviness behind his eyes convincing him he should try. “All right,” he agreed, although still sounding reluctant.

Albert began to leave but paused by the door. “Kain?” he asked, not looking back.

“Yes, Albert?”

“Promise me, if you get the chance to escape from Golbez’s hold, you’ll try.”

Kain’s breath froze in his chest, unable to reply.

Albert seemed to sense it. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… try.”

Kain bit back a verbal response, then offered only the tiniest of nods.

Golbez was silent in his mind; Kain wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not.

Kain dreamed, his hands and mouth full of wet soil and splinters as he crawled his way through thick, slippery mud. Cold rain fell heavily, threatening to drown his lungs as he fought to the surface. Kain roared with effort when he finally emerged from the earth, face upturned to the storming black sky above. As the rain continued to fall, it splattered clean streaks down Kain’s exposed skin, streaming dirt through his blond hair.

Gasping, Kain collapsed to the side of the fresh grave, eyes closed as the rain continued to fall on him.

“You are summoned so easily,” remarked a familiar voice. Kain sat up abruptly and saw Theodor kneeling beside him, watching Kain curiously. Kain was his child’s self again, as filthy he had been the summer afternoon he had jumped into the river after Cecil and dragged him safely to shore.

Theodor, also a child, looked like Cecil’s dark shade. “Were you exposed to Lunarian magic before Golbez’s influence?” Theodor murmured, although the question was not for Kain. “Is that why we can reach you so easily in the dream state?”

“Lunarian?” Kain asked, seizing on the foreign word.

“Never mind,” Theodor dismissed Kain’s question and shook his head, as if he’d forgotten Kain was present and had been abruptly reminded. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” He looked past Kain, and when Kain followed the line of his gaze, their surroundings suddenly clicked into clarity. It was nighttime in the graveyard of Troia, the dark forest around them looking like a black void.

“The better question is, do you want to know what your mother is hiding?” Theodor offered Kain his hand and helped leverage Kain to his feet.

“How?” Kain asked before he could stop himself, still holding Theodor’s hand.

Abruptly, Kain heard a woman’s teary wail. Kain looked and saw another grave beside them, fresh dirt still loosely piled on top. From beneath the earth, Kain could hear muffled sobs and inarticulate, hysterical crying.

Wide-eyed, Kain looked at Theodor. “Who is that?!” Kain demanded, afraid he already knew.

“She could leave if she wanted to,” Theodor said quietly. “She chooses to stay, trapped by her deepest regrets.” Theodor bit his lip as he peered down into the grave, looking both anxious and curious. “You could leave, too, if you didn’t want to know. You’ve been warned before about poking at the past.” Theodor glanced back at Kain, his gray eyes too bright in the nighttime forest, like twin moons beaming in the darkness. “Is this what you want, Kain Highwind?”

“Yes,” Kain said, and instead of Theodor’s hand in his, he suddenly held a shovel. Kain gripped it tightly as he pushed the tip into the loose soil.

You’ll regret asking…. whispered a woman’s voice – it was Barbariccia; no, it was Elena; no, it was Rosa, pleading with him; no, it was Joanna, weeping openly over Elena’s body, holding baby Kain to her chest. Oh, what will we do?

From the darkness of her grave, Elena seized up and snatched Kain, dragging him down below.

Chapter Text

Kain tumbled through Elena’s memories, grabbing at the first coherent thought.

Why…

How could I…

Why am I like this?

Elena Leonhart stood before Baron’s throne door, trying to ignore the nervous beat of her heart as she waited for entry. She couldn’t help but openly stare at the posted guards, both fascinated by the intricate and expensive details of their armor and suddenly self-conscious of her own: dented and dingy, purchased second-hand at a Troian pawn shop with the last of her severance pay.

Elena took a deep breath and stood up taller, reminding herself she was no longer a backwoods guard – the King of Baron invited her here himself, after all. He had sought her out above all others, although Elena still wasn’t sure why.

Mutually beneficial arrangement, the King had written, damnably vague, but too intriguing for Elena to ignore. What did the King of a foreign country have to offer her, and more importantly, what did he want from her in return? It had been a timely letter from Baron, arriving just before her life imploded, like a summoned creature from legend to offer aid before she even knew she needed help.

When Elena was finally admitted inside, the guard muttered something under his breath about little girls playing dress up as she passed. Elena felt her face grow hot but said nothing, pretending she did not hear. She knew, objectively, that women were treated much differently outside of Troia, but still hadn’t been prepared for all the whispered remarks that followed her wherever she went.

Inside the throne room, a young man, looking not much older than Elena herself at twenty-one, sat on the throne. When the door clicked behind her, Elena was surprised to realize they were alone, with no guards flanking them.

At the sight of her, the King’s eyes lit up with greedy curiosity as he looked her over. “Miss Leonhart,” he said as he stood from the throne and crossed the room to her. “Welcome to Baron.”

“I thank you for the invitation,” Elena said carefully, unsuccessfully trying to smooth over her accent. “Your Majesty,” she added belatedly, unused to the mannerisms. Troians treated their Epopts reverentially, but not to the worshipful extent that other countries often regarded their monarchs; she found the practice unnerving.

“When it is just us, call me Odin,” the king said, smiling through his bushy beard, as if he could sense her discomfort.

“Odin,” Elena repeated, uncertainly.

“I asked you to come to Baron so I could show you something,” Odin said as he took a step back from her, looking her pointedly up and down. “But first, tell me something – why were you discharged from Troian service?”

Elena hesitated, surprised by the blunt question and his frank assessment of her. “There was… an altercation with another guard,” she finally said. “I resigned shortly afterward.”

Odin raised an eyebrow. “An altercation?”

Elena closed her eyes, remembering Cassia’s wide-eyed horror as blood sputtered out of her mouth and down her chin. It had sprayed Elena across the face and chest and the smell and taste of it was sharp in her nose as she panted heavily.

“It was not my best moment,” Elena admitted quietly, opening her eyes again.

Odin was still watching her intensely. “Reports say you injured yourself before just the fight.”

Elena frowned and looked aside, unable to bear the scrutiny. “I had an argument with my paramour, and I was highly emotional,” Elena struggled to keep her voice neutral as she spoke. “I cut myself with a knife, to… to prove a point—"

Is this what you want, Sylvia? Elena’s memory-self hysterically demanded, wrist bared, blade flashing in the lamplight. All you seem to want is to hurt me, after all, why shouldn’t I just fucking do it now and save you the trouble…

“—and when someone tried to intervene—”

Cassia, dragging Elena off Sylvia, bloody handprints on the sleeves of Sylvia’s gown that looked black in the dim light as Elena grasped after her. Elena, alive and vibrating out of her skin with pain, both from her gushing wrist and wounded heart, launched herself at Cassia, the combination of torment and grief somehow giving her a strange new strength. I hate you! Elena had screamed as she tirelessly pummeled Cassia until her hands were too slick with blood to hold a fist any longer.

“It became violent,” Elena finished, her voice clipped. She tried not to remember how much she liked the fear in both Sylvia and Cassia’s eyes, or how farther she might have gone if other guards hadn’t finally stepped in. She looked back up at Odin, expecting his judgment and dismissal. The Troian military had deemed Elena too unpredictable to be a good soldier, so why would Baron think any differently?

Only, Odin was smiling instead. “Do you feel always more powerful?” he asked. “After you hurt yourself?”

Elena frowned again. “I don’t understand,” she lied.

“Elena,” Odin said her name carefully, like he approached a shy animal. “Before the fight, had you ever hurt yourself before?”

“Yes,” Elena reluctantly answered.

“Why?” Odin pressed, ignoring her obvious discomfort.

“Because.” Elena sighed slowly. “It makes me feel like I’m in control of something, even when my life is out of control.”

“What if you could access that power in battle?” Odin asked, his eyes hungry again. “What if you could use your own pain to hurt your enemies?”

Elena hesitated. The sensible part of her begged her to run away from this madness, that no good could ever come from intentionally hurting herself. But another, more greedy part of her was curiously intrigued by Odin’s proposal.

“Tell me more,” Elena said, not knowing then how much that decision doomed her.

“You want me to figure out how reliably use the dark knight power,” Elena stated as she sat across from Odin in his study, a great tome open on the desk between them. “And teach you how to use it?” she added, this time as an unsure question.

“Yes.” Odin barely breathed as he spoke, as if afraid the wrong word would scare her off. “Elena, it’s in your bloodline. Your ancestor, Leonhart, traveled the world, searching for this knowledge. He wrote it all down.” Odin tapped the page for emphasis; on it was a detailed diagram of an exposed wrist.  “This is your inheritance.”

“Then why not give it to me freely?” Elena asked. “If this is my birthright, as you say.”

“Ah.” Odin smiled, a wide, pleased with himself grin. “That’s what we call leverage, my dear.”

“You will only share it with me if I teach you as well.” Elena frowned at the emerging realization. “Is that the bargain?”

“Yes.” Odin leaned back in his chair, watching her carefully.

Elena looked over the open tome between them and its grim illustrations. “You were unsuccessful on your own,” she observed. “You wouldn’t share this information if you didn’t have to.”

Reflexively, Odin touched the inside of his left wrist. “If I can see it in use, I think I would understand it enough to do it myself.”

 “And what do I get from this?” Elena asked.

“Besides access to the Leonhart artifacts?” Odin said, closing the tome and drawing it possessively toward himself. “You would have the gratitude of a king. Tell me, are you an ambitious woman, Elena?”

Elena’s tongue felt dry in her mouth as she replied, “You could say that.”

“You want wealth? Rank and position? Influence?” Odin asked, too eagerly. “Easily done. But this?” He gestured to the dark knight tome. “This is the path to greatness for you and me, not just here in Baron but the whole world.” He paused to consider her, before quietly asking, “Do you want all of that?”

“Yes,” Elena answered in confessional whisper, as if she were afraid to admit it even to herself.

“Good.” Odin gave a relieved exhale. “Give me some time to prepare everything for our training. In the meantime, get settled in the castle and get to know Baron and its people. You might find you’ll like it here.”

Elena was hit with a sudden pang of homesickness, missing Troia’s green forest and blue waters, but Sylvia’s warmth most of all; how could Baron hope to compare to such beauty? Elena forced a smile. “I will try.”

Baron Castle was notably bigger than Troia, both in size and its population; it was also much wealthier. Elena was shown to her quarters and was surprised by the lush furnishings offered to a common soldier.

“But you’re not a common soldier,” Elena reminded her reflection in the mirror. She adjusted the ill-fitting strap on her left pauldron and frowned. “You need to prove that to everyone.”

Elena had failed spectacularly in so many ways already – perhaps Baron was the place for a new beginning and the start of an impressive military career. Without her stubborn heart distracting her, Elena could focus on being the best. If Odin believed in her, she could too.

But there was still a lingering doubt in her reflection’s dark eyes; she was determined to prove it wrong.

The training yard was situated in one of the castle’s courtyards, an open stretch of land with several sandy pits for sparring, each surrounded by a circle of fencing. On this sunny afternoon, soldiers dueled one another while onlookers watched from behind the fence, shouting their encouragement for one fighter or expressing displeasure with another; gil often exchanged hands.

Elena drew in a deep breath and stepped out inside the sunshine.

After her eyes adjusted to the bright light, she looked around and saw that only one sparring circle wasn’t being used. Instead, a figure in dark blue draconic armor leaned casually back on the fence, several ladies standing around him in a semi-circle; Elena wasn’t close enough to hear their chatter but saw one dressed in white mage robes, who giggled behind her hand at whatever the dragon knight said.

Behind the women stood another soldier in green draconic armor; he shifted nervously between his feet as he unsuccessfully tried to get the first soldier’s attention, who either didn’t notice or actively chose to ignore him.

Elena stood there near the courtyard door’s archway, hesitating, when she heard someone sigh behind her and mutter, “Ah, shit.”

Elena looked behind and saw a tall, lanky man; he was unarmored and wore simple civilian clothing, his shoulder length blond hair tied back in a neat queue at his neck. He held a bouquet of wildflowers in his left hand, watching the dragon knights with a deep frown. He stared after them awhile longer before his eyes drifted to Elena; he startled at the sight of her.

“Apologies for the language, my lady,” the man said as he swept into a low bow. “I saw your armor and assumed you were a fellow knight.”

“I am,” Elena said, her words feeling awkward and ungainly compared to his flowery speech. She stood up a bit taller as if to prove a point.

He looked her up and down, carefully taking in the details of her, the armor, and the sword at her hip. Elena felt suddenly exposed under his scrutinizing blue eyes. “I see,” he said, suddenly grinning. “Then I must offer my apologies again. Are you a new recruit?”

“Yes,” Elena answered shortly. “And you are?”

“Roland Farrell,” the man replied, extending his hand for a shake. Elena took it and he gripped her hand firmly. “Welcome, first, to the knight; Baron is sure to benefit from your skills.” His fingers shifted under her palm, flipping her hand over, knuckles up. “And second, to the lady, whose beauty is most distracting,” he murmured as he leaned over her hand, then brushed a quick kiss across her knuckles. “You both are sure to cause quite the stir.”

Elena blinked in surprise, drawing her hand back. Loud laughter and giggling shrieks erupted behind them. Elena turned to see the blue dragon knight holding something over the white mage’s head. She jumped after it, swiping her hand uselessly for it, but too short to reach. On her last attempt, she stumbled and fell into the dragon knight; he caught her easily and righted her, his hand lingering on her elbow to hold her steady.

The hood from her white mage robes fell off, revealing the woman’s face fully, and Elena was surprised by her beauty, the shining weight of her golden hair, the ease of her smile, the brightness of her green eyes.

“Damn it,” Roland muttered beside Elena, breaking her daze.

Elena looked aside at him. “What’s wrong?”

Roland frowned, then gestured toward the dragon knight and white mage. “There’s a masquerade ball next week. Richard – that’s the dragoon – and I were supposed to be away on a mission, but it’s been delayed. I was hoping to ask Joanna –the white mage— if I could escort her, but…” He looked at the flowers in his hand, now slightly squashed from his too tight grip, and sighed.

“But Richard has the same idea?” Elena prompted. Mentally, she repeated the word dragoon, trying to commit the foreign word to memory.

“I suppose so,” Roland agreed glumly.

“You may not be too late,” Elena said, nodding toward the two. Joanna, noticing the green dragoon lingering nearby, disentangled herself from Richard and put a little distance back between them. “Who is that?” Elena asked. “Another rival for the lady?”

“Albert? No,” Roland chuckled. “The Dragoon Commander recently acknowledged Richard as his next in line and everyone’s been clamoring for his attention. Albert’s freshly graduated and eager to show off his Jump technique.”

Elena looked between Joanna, Richard, and Albert, then back at Roland; she needed allies in this place, she decided.

 “If Richard were properly…” Elena hesitated, searching for the right word. “…distracted,” she found it and there was suddenly mischief in her dark eyes, “would that give you enough time to talk to your lady?”

Roland looked briefly confused, then understanding softened his expression. “Oh, aren’t you clever?” he said, now smirking. “And if anyone could turn Richard’s head, it would be you.”

Elena, ignoring Roland’s comment and her burning cheeks, looked back at Richard and Joanna. “Ready?”

“As ever,” Roland said. He swept into another bow from the waist but kept it this time. “After you, my lady.”

Elena frowned but said nothing as she passed him, striding forward further into the training yard. She heard a low murmur of conversation start and the press of eyes on her as she walked; she was suddenly self-conscious of all who might be watching.

The conversation between Richard and Albert abruptly stopped as they turned to Elena. Albert was young, his legs and arms still gangly, shaggy brown hair in a tousled mess; Richard, tall and broad-shouldered, with sandy blond hair cropped in a short cut around his ears, was surprisingly handsome, looking amused at Elena’s approach.

“Up for a spar?” Elena asked with a nod to the sandy fighting pit. “I haven’t had a good fight in Baron yet.”

“I could not fight a lady,” Richard said with a laugh. Behind him, Joanna peeked up and over his shoulder, watching Elena with curious eyes.

“You’ll quickly learn I am no lady,” Elena said as she drew her sword from its sheath at her hip, the metal hissing with the movement. “But more importantly, I wasn’t speaking to you.” Elena looked at Albert, offering him a kind smile. “I heard you’ve been working on your, how do you say, Jump technique? I would love to see it.”

“R-really?” Albert stammered in surprise.

At the same time, Richard scowled, but did not say anything, while Joanna stifled a giggle behind her hand.

“Really,” Elena confirmed as she pushed past the swinging gate into the sandy pit, with Albert trailing excitedly behind her.

In the middle of the pit, Elena took up a position with Albert opposite her. He’d put his dragon helmet on and now two sets of eyes watched her: the yellow, unblinking dragon’s, and Albert’s, nervously darting back and forth. No one else in the training yard mattered now, Elena told herself.

“Do not hold back,” Elena spoke quietly, so that only Albert could hear her. “If you don’t fight me in earnest, no one ever will.” She held her sword up with a flourish. “Let’s establish both of our reputations, shall we?”

Albert nodded; he looked her up and down and adjusted his footing in the sand. “Are you ready?” he asked, drawing his own short sword, then settled into a battle stance.

“I am,” Elena confirmed with smirk, then without further delay or chance at flagging courage for either of them, she charged.

Albert looked surprised as their swords clanged harshly together, sounding discordant chimes through the training yard, but he recovered quickly enough. Despite Albert’s youth, he was still taller and bigger than Elena; her footing was faster as she danced around him, taking easy swipes at his defense, but Albert was stronger, easily meeting her attacks and holding steady against them.

Eventually, Elena drew back, needing to catch her breath. Albert let her retreat without reprisal, but she saw his stance change as his knees bent and he sank into a crouch. Before Elena could react, he shot high up into the air. Perplexed by his sudden disappearance, Elena ran over and looked up, then saw his dark shadow against the bright sun as he started to fall back down. She had no time to flee as he crashed hard into her.

They fell together, a tangled mess of limbs fighting for control. It was Albert who landed on top, though, being bigger and heavier; his sword had fallen away in the tumble, but he held her down with a firm grip on each of her shoulders, holding her pinned to the sandy ground. “Do you yield?” he asked.

Elena sucked in a breath, lungs struggling to fill under the combined weight of his body and armor pressing down on her. She felt pain explode on her shoulder, where her ill-fitting armor rubbed raw into her skin. She closed her eyes, imagining how the deep mark would blossom into a purple bruise, spreading out in dark splotches against her white skin. What was the point of pain, then, if she did not use it?

From there, Elena felt her pain as a darkness flooding through her, both contracting and expanding each muscle, stretching each tendon, filling each cell of her with purpose: to fight back.

With a grunt, Elena pushed both her legs and arms with an unexpected but welcome strength, effectively throwing Albert off her. He hit the ground hard on his back beside her, too stunned and rattled in his armor to react. Elena rolled and was quickly on top of him, her blade still in hand, hovering over Albert’s head. “Do you yield?” Elena asked this time, through panting breaths.

Albert swallowed hard. “I yield.”

Elena visibly relaxed, her sword dropping harmlessly away. She shifted off Albert and stood, then offered him a hand. He hesitated for only a moment, then took it, using her help to leverage himself to a stand.

Elena kept her grip firm on Albert’s hand. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then, more loudly, “I owe you a rematch, sir.” She shook his hand emphatically. “And a drink.”

Albert, still a little stunned, nodded. “Oh… okay.”

Elena finally released his hand and looked around: the other fights had paused as watchers gathered around to watch Elena and Albert’s spar. She saw Richard, arms crossed over his chest, watching with a grim frown; he started to open his mouth to say something, then hesitated and said nothing. Then, as if he just remembered, he looked behind him, where Joanna had been standing, only to realize she was gone.

Instead, Joanna was walking with Roland, holding the bouquet of wildflowers up to her nose as she sniffed them with a smile, while Roland chattered excitedly beside her. Roland said something then stopped mid-stride, watching Joanna expectantly as she stopped beside him, too, then she nodded emphatically in reply. Roland took her hands in his, then leaned in, and brushed a kiss against her cheek. He said something else, then released her hands, walking away with a huge smile on his face.

Roland paused only once, looking across the training yard to find Elena’s dark gaze following him. He offered her a quick thumbs up and a wide grin, confirming their success. Elena returned both the thumbs up and the smile.

Elena, returning her attention to the sandy pit, knelt to pick up her forgotten sword. As she started to lift it, a boot appeared, stepping down on it, pinning the weapon onto the floor. Elena looked up to see Richard towering over her, his head blocking out the sunlight behind him.

“That’s a cute little stunt you pulled to help Farrell. Did he pay you?” Richard asked.

Elena scowled but did not struggle to pull her weapon free, instead she only stood up. She was dismayed to realize how much taller he was than her; she squared her shoulders to seem bigger. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do,” Richard said, not moving from where he stood, uncomfortably too close.

“I think you have had your ego bruised, both by your subordinate and your romantic rival,” Elena retorted sharply. “And if you want nothing else bruised, you’ll back off.”

Richard blinked in surprise, then stepped aside. “Of course, my lady.”

“Elena Leonhart,” she corrected him. “I’ve told you before I am not a lady; I will not tell you again.”

“Elena,” Richard repeated. He knelt and picked up her sword from the sand, then stood and offered it to her, hilt first. “Your weapon, Elena,” he said, with special emphasis on her name. “Although you may not have need of it with that sharp tongue of yours.”

“Thank you,” Elena said as she took the sword and sheathed it back at her hip. She looked past Richard to where Albert stood watching, his eyes wide with awe. “Albert, is it? Why don’t you show me where to get a drink in Baron and I’ll buy you one.” She strode toward Albert, deliberately passing Richard by.

Albert looked surprised at her approach. “I should tell you, my lady – I mean, Elena. I’ve got a girl back home that I’m sweet on, and while I’m deeply flattered—”

“Hush,” Elena hissed as she took his arm, dragging him with her as she walked on, further away from Richard. “I’m taking you for a drink,” she said, this time more slowly, “and then you will tell me everything there is to know about Baron’s Knights and Dragoons.”

Elena then remembered Joanna, her inquisitive eyes and dazzling smile, with not one but two men chasing after her. “And the White Mages,” Elena added. The sun suddenly felt too warm overhead, and Elena hurried inside.

Chapter Text

Like Elena, Albert Hawthorne was a relative outsider to Baron. He hadn’t grown up in town, but on a modest estate his family owned somewhere on Baron’s craggy southern coast. At thirteen, as was expected of second-born sons, Albert had enrolled as a cadet, determined to find a career in Baron’s mighty military.

Two years later, Albert had caught the attention of the Dragoon Commander, surprising everyone. It was rare for anyone outside of noble families to claim natural Dragoon skills, given that the secrets of dragon eggs were jealously guarded and only passed down from father to son. Even with dragons being gone, it seemed the paternal line of succession continued in this tradition, with fathers teaching their sons how to jump as soon as they can toddle on their own.

Cadets from these legacy families usually started training much farther ahead than other cadets, thus making competition for the Commander’s attention all the harder. Ambitious cadets outside of these families might hope to impress the Dragoon Commander with their physical skills, but that was unusual.

“I was very drunk and messing around on the roof of the Inn,” Albert explained to Elena, over drinks at the Baron Pub. “I slipped, fell, spiraled in the air and somehow managed to right myself before I hit the ground and landed on my feet. The Commander saw the whole thing.” Albert paused to drain the last of his mug, then offered Elena a satisfied grin. “I thought I was going to be expelled, but instead he wanted to know if I would consider becoming a dragoon.”

“I see,” Elena said. “And how did Richard come to be the Commander’s second?”

Albert paused, then shrugged. “It came as a surprise. Don’t get me wrong – he’s a talented dragoon. But—”

“But?” Elena prompted.

“His name means a lot,” Albert finished. “His family name, I mean. The Highwinds are a well-established and wealthy family. They’ve had dragoons in the family for generations and were one of the last ones to ride dragons.” Albert peered down into his cup and frowned; he seemed surprised to find it now empty. “Rumor has it that the King is considering Richard for peerage. It would make him and his family nobility.”

“And what do you think?” Elena asked, trying to sound casual. Elena gestured to the barkeep, who promptly topped off both their mugs. “You don’t seem as impressed.”

Albert hesitated, but the lure of a fresh drink proved too tempting; he took a large swing, swallowed hard, sighed, then spoke, “Richard is a good dragoon.”

Elena said nothing, only waited for him to continue.

Albert shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of her dark gaze. “But he can be an ass.”

“I see,” Elena said, leaning back in her seat. “And the knight?” she asked, watching Albert’s face carefully for a reaction. “Farrell, I think?”

“Roland Farrell,” Albert offered readily. “His family has a long history with Baron’s military, but never in command. He seems ambitious enough to rise high up in the Knights’ rank, but there is less glory there with everyone is trying to get into the Red Wings.”

“Red Wings?” Elena asked.

“New military division,” Albert answered. “With Cid’s air ships ready for use, there’s an increased demand for men – er, soldiers, to crew them.”

“And Cid is Baron’s… inventor?” Elena asked, not certain of her word choice.

Albert smiled. “Something like that. He’s an apprentice now but with successful airships under his belt, he’ll be Chief in no time.”

“And the white mage?” Elena asked next. “Who is she?”

“Joanna Gainsborough,” Albert answered. “She’s the first of her family to enlist in Baron’s military. Her grandfather impressed the king when he took over management of the Harvey estate when its heir went missing.”  Albert took another long swig of his drink. “When Joanna showed an aptitude for white magic, she was quickly recruited.”

“Hm,” Elena made a thoughtful noise in her throat. “And now she’s the center of a romantic rivalry, it seems?”

“You could say that,” Albert said with a laugh. “The talk is that Joanna was sent to Baron to find a wealthy husband with a title to elevate the family.”

“And that would be Richard?” Elena asked.

“It seemed so, until—” Albert hesitated.

“Until what?” Elena prompted.

“Until you,” Albert finished. “I don’t think she noticed Roland much before today. And before you, Richard only had eyes for Joanna, but now….”

“Certainly, you don’t mean me,” Elena scoffed. “He will keep his eyes to himself around me.”

Albert laughed. “You only add fuel to the fire! Richard likes a challenge, and a lady like you is certainly a challenge.”

“I am not a lady—” Elena started.

“I know!” Albert held his hands up defensively. “Titled or not, you get my meaning.”

“A Caith Sith will pursue its prey if it runs, but not if the creature stops and plays dead,” Elena murmured to herself. Then, to Albert, “So he likes the chase.”

“Something like that,” Albert said, looking suddenly guilty as he peered into his mug.

“Interesting,” Elena murmured to herself as she drummed her fingers on the bar top, deep in thought. “How do you know all of this, Albert?” she asked, watching him carefully as he drank again. “You don’t strike me as a terrible gossip, but here we are.”

“I don’t gossip,” Albert said pointedly; there was a slight slur in his words. “I… observe.”

“You certainly sound like an old woman gossiping tonight,” Elena teased with a smirk.

Albert shrugged, then took another swallow of his drink. “You’re the first person who’s ever listened.”

“I do not know much about dragoons, but I do know good soldiers,” Elena said, lifting her mug up in gesture toward Albert. “You are one. But Richard?” Elena gave Albert a mischievous grin. “That is still… up in the air, I guess you could say.”

Albert laughed, snorted unexpectedly, then laughed harder. “I like you, Elena.” He lifted his own mug and clinked it against hers, sloshing beer up over the rim. “I think we should be friends.”

“Agreed,” Elena said, then drank deeply from her mug. She set it back down on the table, then wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “Now, tell me more about Baron court.”

“I… do not understand,” Elena said, staring at the bolts of fabric spread out on the table before her. “What is this for?”

“You need to show well,” Odin said; he gestured to the nearby seamstress, who began to approach Elena, a measuring tape in her hands.

Elena backed away, hands up to protect herself. “What do you mean?”

“Your first public appearance is coming up,” Odin said, his mouth pinched in an impatient frown. “You need to look somewhat like lady.”

Elena scowled. “I see no need for my attendance.” As the seamstress inched closer, Elena looked at her and hissed, “Do not touch me.”

Odin returned her scowl. “You said you wanted rank and position? This is how you get it. We must make you an advantageous match. Someone whose rank will help elevate you as you come into your Dark Knight powers.”

“Match?” Elena echoed incredulously. “I have no desire for a partner.”

“Your desire is irrelevant,” Odin’s deep voice boomed like thunder. “You will need to ally yourself. You must find a husband whose family will give you the best connections and who will sire you the best children.”

Elena balked but did not back away as the seamstress finally reached her, the measuring tape already stretched tight to measure Elena’s right arm.  “And what makes you think I want children?” she asked sharply.

“Because Dark Knight powers run in the blood,” Odin replied. “If you have the talent, your children may as well. We cannot waste your bloodline on inferior men.”

“How very mercenary,” Elena remarked dryly.

Odin shrugged. “It is how things are done here in Baron. If you’re rising from nothing, you must grasp whatever you can, take every advantage, and use every tool in your skill set.”

Elena wanted to protest that she hadn’t been nothing, she’d on her way to something, the first Leonheart to hold rank in Troia, but she bit it back, instead saying nothing as the seamstress paused to scribble notes, then continued taking measurements.

Odin watched her with dark eyes as the seamstress held up different fabrics to Elena’s face, murmuring comments about her complexion and coloring. “Do you have any ideas for a costume?” the seamstress asked Elena.

Elena looked over the pile of fabrics, then spied a deep red silk. “I have an idea,” Elena said, running her palm down it reverently. Her skin had never touched such expensive fabrics; it felt surprisingly soft and cool.

As Elena looked up, she saw Odin watching her with an unsettling smile.

“Are you sure about this?” Elena whispered to Odin.

Odin took a step back from her and looked her up and down pointedly. “I am sure,” Odin replied, then offered his arm. “You will dazzle all.”

Elena reluctantly took his arm, trying to feel balanced on her narrow heels. She wore a long red gown with endless yards of rippling fabric yet still felt exposed with its deep neckline. On one shoulder, pleats of fabric had been arranged to look like flower petals. Her mask was a green so dark that it looked nearly black against her skin, its surface covered in small, sharp studs, resembling thorns. Her dark hair was twisted around a decorative pin resembling a green leaf, a few glossy black curls spilling out. Around her neck and on her ears, she wore Odin’s emeralds, lent for the special occasion, winking prettily in the flickering lights from the wall sconces.

Beside her, Odin was dressed in black, his own mask resembling the flared snout of an angry stallion. He looked like a rider from hell, Elena thought grimly, ready to slice down the weak and unworthy; the mental image sent an involuntary shudder through her.

Together, they entered the ballroom. It was already filled with people, all in bright and colorful costumes – some dressed as creatures from mythology, like the Eidolons, others as monsters, and some, like Odin, dressed as animals, ranging from a woman with a blue spotted Coeurl mask and long tail, to a man with a mask full of yellow chocobo feathers and a sharp beak, his own blond hair long and loose on his shoulders. Beside him was a woman in a gold gown, her mask a bright sunburst, her honeyed hair coiled in a long braid on top of her head.

As people caught sight of King Odin entering with Elena, a hush fell over the crowd and the music abruptly stopped. Elena clutched Odin’s arm tighter as they progressed further in, the crowd gradually parting way for them.

A man stepped out from the crowd, his mask a scowling blue dragon, his doublet stitched with rows of small half-circles to resemble scales. He approached, then swept into a low bow. “Your Majesty,” he spoke as he rose back up. By both his voice and his cocksure posture, Elena recognized him: Richard Highwind.

“Forgive my forwardness, but I must beg an introduction,” Richard said, turning his attention to Elena. Below the dragon’s teeth, Richard smirked.

“No need,” Elena answered sharply before Odin could, “for we have already met, and I don’t care to repeat the experience.”

Odin laughed loudly. “I see you two are acquainted.”

“Miss Leonhart,” Richard cut in quickly, interrupting whatever hot retort Elena had next. “Let me begin by humbly asking for your forgiveness: I was rude and unwelcoming, and I would like to make amends.” He reached, offering his hand to her. Reluctantly, she took it, mindful of the King’s intense gaze watching her, never mind the hundred others who stood audience to the exchange.

Instead of shaking her hand, he flipped hers around and bowed low over it, then kissed her fingers. “My deepest apologies for my inexcusable behavior,” he murmured. As he stood back up, he released her hand.

Elena yanked her hand back, absently wiping it against the fabric of her dress. What was it with Baron men and kissing her hand? She did not understand the custom, preferring to keep her sword arm ready for combat instead of social niceties.

“I would ask for a dance,” Richard said as he peered at something over her shoulder, “but it seems I am not the only man vying for your attention tonight.”

Elena looked behind her and saw a dozen men gathered, watching expectantly, looking between her and Odin, politely but impatiently waiting for a break in the conversation.

“We have many introductions to make,” Odin said, his voice thundering beside them, reminding both Richard and Elena of his presence.

“I’ll find you later,” Richard said with a conspiratorial whisper to Elena, then, more formally to Odin. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for cultivating such a rare exotic flower.”

“Exotic?” Elena repeated with a scoff.

“Of course,” Odin said at the same time, ignoring Elena.

Richard bowed once more, then disappeared into the surrounding crowd.

“Come,” Odin said, offering his arm again. “There are more I would like you to meet.”

Elena hesitated. Over Odin’s arm, she saw what waited for her – an endless line of men whose only interest in her was her willingness to spit out children who looked like their father.

“Trust me,” Odin said, sounding surprisingly gentle. “Remember, we must all use the tools and skills we possess.”

Elena drew in a deep steadying breath, then fixed a bland smile on her face. “I trust you,” Elena said as she took Odin’s arm, hoping she could convince both Odin and herself with the lie.

Over the next few hours, Elena met most of the eligible men in Baron’s court. Some she danced with, trying to pretend she didn’t notice how they peered down her decolletage, or how their hands sometimes drifted from her waist. Others tried to chat over drinks, but they always offered something too sweet, a far cry from the cheap beer Elena had grown up drinking In Troia. Others held her captive in dull conversation and boasted, as much to her as they did to Odin, who always lurked nearby, telling her of their massive land holdings and yearly earnings.

None asked about her intended career or decision to move to Baron, or weapon preference or what type of terrain she liked to fight in best. She found herself increasingly disappointed as the night went on, but with Odin’s constant observation, Elena continued – she danced on, twirling away from their grabby hands; she pretended to sip the sugary drink, then left it abandoned on a servant’s tray as they moved through the crowd; she feigned astonishment and awe with each braggart, pretending she cared how raising the local tax by a half a percent led to record profits.

Elena stood, half listening to some lordling or another prattle on about fish, of all things, why would anyone care so much about fish?  

“Miss Leonhart,” someone called from behind her. Elena turned to see Richard, his dragon’s mask pushed up, offering her a mischievous grin. “You look absolutely parched, my dear flower. Perhaps we should get you a more refreshing drink before your petals get too dry?”

“The lady and I are speaking,” said Elena’s latest companion, the noble with too many fish. “If you don’t mind.”

“I do mind,” Elena stated flatly as she stepped toward Richard, taking his offered arm, relieved to be freed. “Thank you,” she with genuine gratitude. She glanced back at Odin, who gave her a slight nod.

“You looked in need of rescue,” Richard said as he began leading her through the crowd. “Want to get a quiet drink? Away from the crowd?

“Yes!” Elena agreed too eagerly; she thought of Albert’s words about Richard. He likes the chase, she reminded herself; perhaps she had read him wrong in the training yard. Would flirting be so terrible, considering the dreadful evening she’d already had?  “I mean, rescued by a dragon instead of a brave knight. Should I not be worried about your claws and teeth?”

“And damage you? I would never. What a treasure you would be in any dragon’s hoard,” Richard remarked. “But I think many knights would risk a dragon’s fiery breath for a chance at possessing you. I certainly would.”

“How heroic,” Elena said with a laugh, surprised by the charm. He seemed so unlike the man she’d met in the training yard. “Courtly manners suit you.”

“And being a lady suits you,” Richard remarked with a side glance at her. If his gaze lingered a bit too long at her neckline, Elena pretended not to notice. “C’mon, let’s find that drink,” he said, guiding her toward the kitchen entrance, where a stream of servants exited with full trays, then returned with them empty. But instead of the kitchen, he led her through a small side door. It opened into a narrow hallway, with doors on either side.

“Where are we?” Elena asked; she dropped her grip on Richard’s arm, but then he took her hand within his, the grip almost too firm.

“Mostly storage for the banquet hall,” Richard explained as they went down the hallway. One door, slightly askew, showed stacks of chairs inside. They passed a few more before Richard stopped. He tested the knob and grinned when it opened without protest. “They usually keep this locked,” he explained as he opened the door and led her inside.

Large shelves lined the walls, casks and bottles neatly lined up across each. A small window near the ceiling offered a meager light, enough to faintly see by. Elena moved further inside with Richard closely behind her.

Richard poked around the shelves for a moment and found two cups, then knelt beside one of the casks. He gave it an experienced twist, liquid pouring into the first cup. He offered it to Elena. “Wine? Something with berries, I think.”

“It’s not the first time you’ve snuck around back here, is it?” Elena said as she took the cup from Richard, giving it a sniff. Fruity but not cloying. She took an experimental sip and found she liked it.

“There’s a lot of trouble to be found in Baron Castle,” Richard said with a chuckle as he filled the second cup. “Cheers?” he asked, holding the cup up in gesture for a toast.

Elena hesitated briefly, then lifted her cup to clink with Richard’s. He smiled at her over the rim of his cup before taking a long swig. “Not bad, eh?”

“Not bad,” Elena repeated, taking her own sip. She was not a stranger to drinking, certainly, but Troian mead was a far cry from the potent Baron vintages; she was surprised at the instant warmth in her belly and realized she had not yet eaten.

“I am sorry we began so poorly,” Richard said as he leaned in closer to her.  “I am not used to a woman like you.”

“Like what?” Elena asked, peering up at him; he was much taller than her. She told herself there was no reason to be intimidated. She took another long swig, hoping it would calm her sudden nerves. The battlefield was so much easier, knowing who the enemy was and never second guessing herself. Here, she had no weapon, no guide, no map on what was dangerous and what was not.

“Intriguing,” Richard answered her, still grinning then took another drink himself.

“Surely there are many intriguing women in Baron, more deserving of your attention,” Elena said, instinctively backing up, but her back met a large cask behind her. But at least he maintained his distance. “Are you not courting another already?”

“Ah,” Richard chuckled. “But Miss Leonhart—”

“Elena,” she interrupted, more out of habit than anything else.

“Elena,” Richard amended, looking amused. “My point, Elena, is of all the women in Baron, you are the best.”

“And what exactly makes you think that?” Elena asked, feeling suddenly small and too exposed in her dress. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know that you walked in tonight on King Odin’s arm. And if he thinks you worthy of that attention, then that makes you the best that Baron has to offer,” Richard said. He reached to take cup from her hand; she was dismayed to see it nearly empty. He set both aside on a nearby shelf, then turned back to her. “And there is something you should know about me, Elena,” he said her name carefully, like he was afraid to mispronounce it.

“What’s that?” Elena asked. She was torn between two impulses, to dash away and run from here, leaving Richard and his odd quest for perfection behind, or she could stay, and if at least one person believed she could be the best, perhaps then she could be, first as a dark knight, then, perhaps, as a wife. Maybe.

“I always get the best.” Richard came closer, placing one hand possessively on her waist, drawing her toward him. “And I want you,” he said, near enough that Elena could now smell the wine on his breath, and she wondered just how drunk he was.

“I should go,” Elena protested, trying to sidestep his embrace but Richard held on, fingers digging into her hip.

“Stay,” Richard whispered beside her ear.

“The King will be waiting,” Elena said.

Richard chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest. “King Odin has whored you out to the entire Baron court; he would probably encourage this dalliance.”

Elena stiffened. “Let me go,” she said, voice tight.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Richard said, jostling her closer to him; he pressed his body against hers and she could feel his erection digging into her belly. “I promise I can pay well.” He gripped one of Elena’s breasts, painfully squeezing. “Isn’t this how it’s done in Troia?”

As Richard bent to kiss her, lips parted, stinking of alcohol, Elena swung her fist soundly into his jaw. Richard let go of her and stumbled back, uttering a stream of curses. He held his jaw and looked up, at first in disbelief but that was quickly replaced by anger. “You bitch!” he spat out in a mix of blood and saliva.

“First time you’ve gotten it right,” Elena said through gritted teeth.

Richard lunged for her, but the drink made him slow and clumsy. She ducked down and around him, just escaping before he could grab her.

If Elena had been normally clothed, in practical trousers instead of endless skirts and petticoats, she might have reached the door. Instead, she stumbled briefly in her heels, and in that lost second Richard got close enough to grab a fistful of red silk. As she got to the door, Richard yanked hard, and Elena heard a distinct rip of fabric as she was abruptly dragged backwards. She lost her balance and fell back with momentum into Richard’s waiting hands.

Richard grabbed her up the upper arm and hauled Elena back up to her feet. “Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you’re in?” he asked, pushing her back, until her back hit the door behind her. He leaned in, pushing his arm across her neck, holding her in place.

Elena scrambled to find a grip, something she could kick or scratch or punch, but found herself too bound by the ridiculous dress and Richard’s closeness. But still she squirmed and wriggled, twisting her body to try and evade his hands.

“Stop it!” Richard roared, then leaned in further, pushing his forearm more firmly into her neck and throat, cutting off her airflow.

Elena tried to push his arm away, but the world suddenly seemed darker as the edges of her vision dimmed. Just as her vision began to shrink further into blackness, she felt Richard’s knee nudging through her skirts, heard another rip of fabric and the coolness of sudden air suddenly on her chest.

How terrible, Elena thought distantly, like she was just an observer and this all happened to someone else.

Behind them, the door abruptly gave away, and Elena and Richard tumbled out of the room together, falling on the floor. In her dazed state, she saw a glimpse of the dazzling sun and wondered why it was still out this late at night.

Now able to suck in grateful lungfuls of air, Elena then scrambled to her feet, alert to the danger again. She looked down and saw the damage to her dress: parts of the skirt had been torn free from the bodice, now dangling in scraps of fabric, Elena’s pale leg seen between the tears; the bodice, ripped too at the neckline, flapping open to expose her breast.

Elena looked up to see Richard struggling to get to his feet, either too drunk or dazed by the fall. Beside him stood two others – the blond man dressed as a chocobo, although now his feathered mask was pushed up and Elena recognized him as Roland Farrell.

Next to him was the woman dressed as the sun goddess, her mask also removed. It was Joanna Gainsborough, haloed with her golden hair, green eyes full of concern, somehow putting Odin’s priceless emeralds to shame.

“Richard?” Joanna asked incredulously, looking back and forth between Elena and Richard.

“My lady,” Roland said at the same time, seeing Elena’s current state of undress. He removed his cloak, bright yellow and trimmed with feathers, then pulled it around her, securing it under her chin. “Are you all right?”

“Don’t get involved with this, Farrell,” Richard warned in a low voice.

But Roland was already turning away from Elena and back to Richard, his hands in tight fists at his sides. “Involved with what, Highwind?” Roland said his name like a curse. “You taking liberties which were not freely offered?”

“Freely?” Richard scoffed. “You should not expect that from a Troian whore. Such liberties are always on offer; we just negotiating the price.”

“Richard!” Joanna shouted, both shocked and scolding.

Roland rushed forward, launching himself shoulder first into Richard’s middle. Caught off guard, Richard fell and Roland went with him. They rolled repeatedly as each tried to land on top. It was not a dignified spar between colleagues, but a boyish brawl, each throwing wild punches as they could, sometimes connecting, as they rolled around on the floor.

“Stop it!” Joanna shrieked from the sidelines.

The ongoing commotion had drawn the attention of several servants, who lingered down the hallway, back at the ballroom entrance. Elena saw how they whispered to each other and winced, pulling the edges of Roland’s cloak closer to herself.

Almost immediately, the castle guards arrived and broke up the fight, dragging Roland off Richard, whose mouth was now bloody. “A night in the dungeon ought to cool you both off,” one of the guards told them; it was not the first and would not be the last drunken argument they’d stopped this night.

Roland went willingly, even cracking a joke with the guard who escorted him. As they passed Joanna, he leaned in to whisper something to her. Joanna looked down the hallway at Elena, then nodded to Roland.

Richard was sullen and argumentative, asking multiple times, “Is this really necessary?” but did not outright refuse or fight his detainment. He gave Elena one last scowl as they left.

“Oh no,” Joanna said, a hand at her mouth as she watched them leave. “Why are they going through the ballroom? Everyone will see them!”

“If Baron guards are anything like Troia’s, they’re the biggest gossips; they probably want the show,” Elena said, watching the servants disperse, whispering to each other as they left. “It’ll be a legendary story by tomorrow morning.”

“Men fighting over women, the oldest story,” Joanna said absently, then startled and looked to Elena, like she’d forgotten Elena was there and her current state. “We should get you out of here.”

Suddenly self-conscious in a way she hadn’t been in front of the guards, servants, or even Richard and Roland, Elena pulled the cloak in tighter to make sure she was covered. “Do you know a way out of here that doesn’t go directly through the ballroom?” she asked; the idea of Odin seeing her and asking questions about Richard made her uneasy.

“Yes,” Joanna said, pulling her sunburst mask back down over her face. Under the sun’s rays, Joanna’s mouth curved up into a pretty smile and Elena’s heart nearly missed a beat. “But first, wait here.” Joanna didn’t wait for a reply, disappearing back into the storage room, carefully sidestepping the broken door and its splinters. She came back through only moments later, nothing obviously changed, but she grinned under her mask.

“Why do I have the feeling I’m getting into more trouble?” Elena asked, dreadfully curious.

Joanna laughed, a delightful sound like chimes gently swinging with the wind. “Me? Trouble? Hardly.” She picked up Elena’s mask that had been discarded in the earlier melee and offered it to Elena.

“Then lead on, my lady,” Elena as she took the mask, considering it for a moment. She then put it on, pulling it back down over her face. “For you are the sun, and what else can I do but follow your golden presence?”

Joanna blushed, prettily pink against the gold of her mask.

I am in trouble, Elena thought, not knowing how right she’d be.

Joanna led her through the castle, mostly through servants’ entrances, and somehow, they managed to avoid most of the patrolling guards. Joanna seemed intimately familiar with Baron Castle, in the same way Elena had known the trees in the forests of her girlhood.

Their luck eventually ran out however, as they turned down one hallway and heard the sudden rattle of armor from behind. Joanna grabbed Elena’s hand, and together, they sprinted down the hallway. Around another corner, Joanna found a door and opened it; they rushed in and Joanna quickly closed it. She pressed her ear against the door, eyes wide as she listened.

Elena looked around and saw rows of desks, all facing a chalkboard with faded diagrams of different runes. Was this a classroom? Elena wondered.

“They’re coming!” Joanna whispered in warning. She took Elena’s hand again and led her through the room, opening another door. Together, they stepped inside. But instead of another room or hallway, it was a narrow closet, lined with racks of white mage robes. Before Elena could look around further, Joanna closed the door, sending the closet into darkness.

“Where are you?” Elena asked, her heart thundering loud in her ears.

But then Joanna’s soft hand was in hers, drawing her closer. “I’m right here,” Joanna whispered, and as Elena’s eyes adjusted, she could see the faint glittering outline of Joanna’s mask. “But shh.” Joanna pressed herself to the closet door, head tilted as she listened.

The warning was timely, as the classroom’s door opened and a voice called out, “Anyone in here?” muffled through the closet door. The guard’s heavily booted tread and rattling armor announced their progress as they moved around the room. “No?” they called out again. When no one answered, they left, the classroom door closing.

Joanna gave a relieved sigh, and Elena’s soon followed. One her next inhale, Elena      realized she could smell Joanna’s perfume – something bright and citrusy – and the knowledge made her knees wobbly. As Joanna opened the closet door, Elena stumbled out after her.

“Are you all right?” Joanna asked, concerned; she lifted the sun burst mask and her fair brow furrowed, and that somehow made her even more beautiful, Elena was dismayed to learn.

“Damn shoes,” Elena said, kicking them off, a little harder than intended.

Joanna laughed and did the same, though she nudged hers carefully aside.

“This is as good place as any to hide out until the party’s over.” She reached into the folds of her skirts and produced a wine bottle. “Would you care for a drink?” she asked, presenting the bottle to Elena.

Laughing, Elena took the bottle, looking it over. “Did you sneak this from the storeroom?”

“It’s not my fault the door was broken,” Joanna said, her hands up defensively. “Anyone could have walked off with it.”

“Likely story,” Elena said, though sounding amused. She looked down at the bottle and poked at the cork. “How does this come off?”

“Ah.” Joanna produced a small, sheathed knife from somewhere up her skirt. As she handed it over, she saw Elena’s incredulous look. “What?” she asked, laughing.

“You don’t strike me as the armed type of girl,” Elena said, unsheathing the knife. It was a small serviceable blade, not meant for fighting, but for daily tasks. “Why do you carry this?”

“All white mages are issued one,” Joanna explained, watching as Elena leveraged the knife’s point between the bottle’s mouth and the cork inside.

“Whyever for?” Elena asked as she twisted the knife into the cork, then yanked the blade free, pulling the cork with it. She handed the bottle back to Joanna.

Joanna shrugged as she took the bottle. “Sometimes you have to cut away the rot before healing can begin.” She experimentally sniffed the open bottle, then took a delicate sip. She made a sour face. “It’s terrible.”

“Terrible is relative to how much you’ve had,” Elena said, taking the bottle from Joanna and taking a heartier swig. When she looked back up, Joanna was watching her with a frown.

She went back to the closet, poked around for a moment, then produced a set of white mage robes. “Here,” Joanna said as she handed them to Elena. “Better than a ripped gown, at any rate. And no one will stop you in the halls now.”

Elena set aside the bottle on a nearby desk, suddenly self-conscious. “Thanks,” she mumbled as she turned away. Elena was a soldier; she was used to a lack of privacy in crowded barracks and changing in front of others. But now, she hesitated.

“Oh!” Joanna seemed to realize, too, as she spun around. “Sorry, I’ll give you a few.”

Awkward, Elena wriggled out of the remains of the dress, kicking the garment aside, then pulled on the white mage robes. The material was thick and a bit itchy, but serviceable all the same. When Elena looked back at Joanna, she realized Joanna had already turned back around but was instead staring at the dress on the floor and frowning.

“Richard is an ass,” Joanna declared, picking the bottle back up from the desk and taking a long swallow. “I am... sorry, for what happened.”

“Isn’t he courting you?” Elena asked, still perplexed by the potential match.

“Was,” Joanna said flatly.  She took a bigger gulp of the wine, then handed it back to Elena. She swallowed hard, then sighed. “My family thinks it’s a good match,” she said sullenly.

“Odin thinks the same,” Elena said, taking her own gulp, grateful as the wine made her belly warm. “I think, then, why does Odin not marry Richard? They could save us as the middle-women and just fuck each other.” The wine made her tongue too loose, she realized.

“Elena!” Joanna gasped, scandalized.

Elena laughed, delighted by Joanna’s red cheeks. “What? It would make things simpler?” She handed the bottle back to Joanna.

Joanna considered the bottle for a long moment. “What would you do, if Odin were not pushing you forward?” Joanna asked quietly, then took a slow sip.

Elena stared at the bottle’s rim, trying not to imagine Joanna’s lips on it and failing. She swallowed hard and looked reluctantly back up at Joanna. “I’m not sure,” she said, sounding distant and distracted and found that she was, and not wanting to admit why. “What about you? If your family’s wishes did not matter?” she asked instead, turning the questions around. “Do you like Farrell? You attended tonight with him; surely he will be looking for you tomorrow morning once he’s released.”

“I think so,” Joanna admitted quietly. “I mean, I do like spending time with him.” She smiled, more to herself than Elena. “He makes me laugh.”

“That’s nice,” Elena said, an unexpected jealously twisting up her guts. When Joanna offered the bottle back, Elena was surprise to realize it was half empty already. She thought of having to eventually return to both Odin’s expectations and Richard’s entitlement, and the idea filled her with dread, so she took another long gulp. As she lowered the bottle, she felt suddenly dizzy, her vision swimming.

“Are you all right, Elena?” Joanna suddenly asked, coming closer. “You look a bit pale.”

“M’alright,” Elena mumbled. She went to hand the bottle back, but mistepped and stumbled forward. Before Elena could fall, Joanna was beside her, snaking her arm around Elena’s shoulders, helping bear her weight and keeping her balanced.

“I’ve got you,” Joanna said, soft and soothing and Elena found she believed it. “Let’s sit for a bit,” Joanna suggested as she eased Elena to the floor, sitting beside her. “Maybe we should ease up on the wine.”

“Sage advice,” Elena said, still holding on to Joanna, surprised how soft Joanna’s skin was where it inadvertently touched her own. Her belly churned warmly, a potent cocktail of alcohol and desire.

Joanna, surprisingly, allowed Elena. Joanna leaned in, nearly making it an embrace. Joanna seemed to watch Elena curiously, and Elena was desperate to know what intrigued Joanna so.

“You are very…” Elena started, unsure, then blurted out, “I think it is your beauty that makes me dizzy,” slurring the last.

Joanna blinked in surprise then blushed again. “Oh,” she said, bringing her hand at her mouth.

“No, don’t,” Elena protested as she reached for Joanna’s hand. She caught Joanna’s wrist in the grip of her fingers and tugged gently. “You have a lovely mouth; it makes me want to write poetry.”

“And you’ve had too much to drink,” Joanna said with a gentle laugh, but not pulling her hand away, allowing Elena to draw her closer. “Lean on me,” Joanna said as a soft command. “You need the rest.”

Like a spell cast, Elena was compelled to obey; she shifted on the floor and leaned in on Joanna, her head resting in the curve of Joanna’s shoulder, as Joanna’s arm circled around her, helping to hold Elena against her.

“There you go,” Joanna said, her voice still soft and kind, and Elena wondered if Joanna had learned this as a white mage or if she had always been this tender hearted. “Now close your eyes.”

“If my sun goddess commands it,” Elena murmured, closing her eyes. She could faintly feel Joanna’s heartbeat against her cheek, and she let the steady sound carry her off into sleeping.

Elena dreamed, then, of climbing a fantastically tall tree. As she finally broke through the canopy, she could feel the sun’s warm rays on her face.

It was the first night since leaving Troia that Elena did not dream of herself surrounded by blood with Sylvia’s cries ringing in her ears.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Kain protested, drifting bodiless through Elena’s memories, thoughts and feelings, “This can’t be how it happened. Why would she marry Richard after all of that?”

“I’m not sure,” Theodor said, his presence in the memory-dream abruptly startling Kain. “Do you really want to know?” he asked carefully, the words an eerie echo of Kain’s long-ago dream on a mountain steeped with death.

You’ll regret asking, Joanna finished from his memories, only this time her voice was soft and girlish, so much like Rosa that it gave him a strange sense of in-dream vertigo.

“I want to know,” Kain answered, unable to stop until he knew everything.

Kain’s world spun with Elena’s memories once more.