Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

4058

Error.

Error.

Processing…

Searching…

Conduit offline.

Attempting to reconnect…

Reconnection failed.

Ontos offline.

Attempting to reconnect…

Reconnection failed.

Logos offline.

Attempting to reconnect…

Reconnection failed.

Pneuma offline.

Attempting to reconnect…

Reconnection failed.

Waiting for authorization override…

Waiting for authorization override…

Waiting for authorization override…

Authorization override incomplete.

Activating subroutine…

Loading restore point…

Restore point loaded.

Searching…

Conduit online.

Ontos offline.

Attempting to reconnect…

Reconnection failed.

Logos online.

Pneuma online.

3566

Jin places his hand flat on the door. And then he goes still. Completely still. 

He doesn’t push the hinges open, or even pull away. Instead, he just breathes. In. And out. 

In. And out.

In. And out. 

After this, there will be no going back. He must be certain. He must be sure. 

But he isn’t sure. So instead, he thinks of her. The one he lost. The one he had to learn to go on without. She is safe now. She breathes. She lives. 

Her skin is warm and her heart beats in her own chest. 

That, in the end, is what convinces Jin to draw in a final breath and push the door open. 

The house, if you can even call it a house, is small. The wood is old and thin, covered in vines and moss that have clearly taken more than two years to grow. He must have found it then, tucked away in a sparsely visited corner of Gormott’s forest. 

Small as it may be, though, Malos has made it his home. There’s even a bed in the corner with an open book laid atop it, the pages pinned against the sheets to keep their place. It’s hard to imagine Malos as a reader, but there’s little one can do to keep themselves busy, alone in the forest. 

There’s a painting on the wall. Did he make it himself?

There’s a single, small area of the home that isn’t immediately visible from the doorway, and sure enough, Malos emerges, coming to a quick halt- his face swapping quickly between irritation, surprise, and joy before finally settling on concern. 

“Jin?” 

It’s a voice that, for many years, brought him peace. Now, it fills him with dread. 

“Malos.” Jin replies, keeping his voice as flat as he can manage. Then, he smiles, and he doesn’t have to force himself to. Being apart from this man, after not being able to so much as walk at times without him, had been agony in its own right. And now, he’s here, and Jin resists the urge to grab hold of him and run. Run far, far away, where no one will ever find them. 

But he can’t. Because he knows now what will happen if he does. 

“Why are you here?” Malos questions, taking a step towards him. “What’s wrong?”

“Why must something be wrong?” Jin says back. “You told me where you’d be.”

In case he ever needs his help. That had been the reason. Malos would slip away, disappear, and let Jin live his life. And should anything ever threaten to disrupt that life, this is where he would be. No wonder he seems so worried.

“Everything’s fine.” Jin finally says. And that’s the truth. Everything is fine. Everything is perfect. And it will continue to be just that. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What if someone followed you?” Malos brushes past Jin, pulling him further into the house and shutting the door behind him. “You don't want Lora to see you with me, do you?”

There's a brief moment after Malos speaks when the fear melts away, and he lets himself feel the same pull Jin had. He can see it in his eyes. He looks like he wants to reach forward and pull Jin into a hug, but he stops himself at the last possible second.

In that time, Jin almost forgets why he's here. And then the moment ends.

“Lora knows.” Jin says, and Malos's confusion spikes. “I told her everything.”

“But… why?” Malos shakes his head. “Why would you do that?”

“I was tired of lying.” Jin closes his eyes. “I thought she deserved the truth.”

Malos pauses, and then nods, not because he understands, but because it makes so much sense. How could Jin lie to his dear Driver about something so significant. 

How could he, indeed.

“So that’s why your here?” Malos’s voice is appropriately gentle, but it still throws Jin off. “You had to leave?”

“No.” Jin shakes his head. “She was… very understanding.”

“She was?” Malos furrows his brow and tilts his head. Jin became so used to that particular look, especially early on, when everything about mundane life seemed to confuse him. Perhaps Jin should be impressed that this time around he knows what a bed is used for. “Then why-”

“I came for you.” Jin looks up, meeting his gaze. “I want you to come with me.”

Malos blinks. “With you?”

“Back to Torna.” Jin says. “I want you to join us.”

Malos, probably unconsciously, takes a step back. He crosses his arms over his chest- over the plating that hides his Core. “That’s not a good idea. I’ll just bring trouble your way.”

“I want you there.” Jin continues, not addressing the concern head-on. “It’ll be like before.” 

“Jin-”

“You don’t have to be out here by yourself.” Jin forces himself to fill the gap Malos places between them. He reaches for Malos’s wrist, and while the man is resistant at first, he gives in quickly and allows Jin to hold it in his grasp. “You can come with us.” He pauses. “You want that, right?”

Jin knows the answer already, and that’s what makes it a cruel question. He knows Malos in ways others could never hope to understand, and he knows exactly how to bend him into whatever he needs most. 

“Of course I do.” Malos answers. “But there’s a reason I left. I don’t want to take away what you’ve found.”

“You won’t.” Jin promises, and that is something he is certain of. It’s that certainty that makes his insides burn, and his grip tighten. 

“People know my face-”

“Not many.” Jin corrects. “And you can step away when Addam comes to visit.”

“Mythra would be able to sense me-”

“She would have come after you already if that was what she planned.” Still sensing Malos’s hesitation, Jin pulls him forward and wraps him in the embrace he never returned before. His hands begin to shake at the feeling, and Jin quells it by pressing them so hard against Malos’s back that they don't dare to move. “Please. Be with me.”

And as Jin knew it would, the words make Malos give in completely. He melts against Jin, resting his forehead against the diamond shaped Core. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

And in that moment, Jin knows there will be no further arguments from the man. He will go wherever Jin leads.

And Jin wishes more than anything that he himself was dead.

Chapter Text

3581

Lora wakes up to the sound of a scream. 

The first time it happened, Lora had shot up in her bed, whip in hand, searching the otherwise quiet inn room for danger. But this time, lying on a bedroll in the middle of the forest, Lora barely reacts at all. Her hands reach for Haze, circling around her and feeling her heaving breaths against her chest. 

“It’s me. I’m here.” Lora whispers, running a hand through Haze’s hair. “You’re okay.”

Haze continues to let out uneven gasps in an attempt to fill her lungs, but her struggle against Lora’s hold slowly ceases. She presses her face into Lora’s shoulder and whispers, “I’m sorry.” 

She’s always embarrassed on these nights, once she’s come back to herself. Ashamed might be a better word for it. Even in a family as close as their own, no Blade wants to be so weak as to require their Driver’s coddling. 

But Lora doesn’t dwell on it, speaking softly and rubbing her back until her eyes fall back closed. Lora glances to the other side of the campsite to see if Jin was awoken as well. It’s clear that he had been, or maybe he had never fallen asleep at all. Slowly, she releases her hold on Haze, gently scooching away as not to disturb her, and rises to her feet. 

“It’s never going to get better, is it?” Lora whispers once at Jin’s side. He’s standing at the edge of the campsite, watching Haze with a look she can’t quite read. “I was hopeful at first, but now…”

It had come from nowhere. Everything was fine. Well, there had been Malos, but Haze has been through rough fights before. She never seemed upset by it, but then she woke up with half of her Core missing from her chest, no explanation as to why, and she screamed. 

Nothing’s quite been the same since that day. 

“I’ll be glad when we’ve finally made it to Auresco.” Lora continues when Jin doesn’t speak. “She always gets worse when we’re on the road.”

Addam’s letter had been a surprise. They’ve kept in touch, of course, over the years. Addam would come to visit, and they would pass by Aletta whenever the option allowed. They had stuck together for awhile, after all, waiting for Malos to finally show back up again for his promised battle. And then, he never did, and they split apart. 

But now, according to Addam, the Aegis has been captured. Or at least, that’s what Auresco has told him. Addam hadn’t been able to confirm or deny it himself at the time of writing the letter.

It’s been seventeen years since they last saw Malos- since the Aegis sent down his Artifices, stole the seal, and disappeared. Seventeen years since he failed to appear at the Titan’s Core like he promised, instead silently walking into their campsite weeks later when everyone but Jin was asleep, offering him the seal in exchange for nothing, and was never seen again. 

Until now, at least. 

“Why do you think he did it?” Lora asks, thinking aloud. “Malos, I mean.”

Jin’s eyes flicker away from Haze and towards her, and it takes him a moment to catch up with Lora’s train of thought. “Perhaps he was intimidated by Mythra’s power.”

“He seemed confident before.” Lora’s had to stop herself from thinking about it over the years, or she would just grow more and more restless with the lack of answers. But now, she can’t help herself. “And Mythra was right. He was enjoying himself. Why just stop?”

Jin again, pauses. “I don’t know.”

“He didn’t say anything to you? When he gave you the seal?”

They’ve had this conversation too many times to count, but still, Jin’s answer remains the same. “No. He didn’t say anything.”

The response has never satisfied Lora, but maybe now she can find an answer that will.

A Blade with an amethyst Core, surrounded by large, black wings. Though the idea of Torna capturing Malos without Mythra’s help, or even Jin’s, seems unlikely, who else could it possibly be?

By tomorrow, she’ll know for sure.

“You should get some sleep, too.” Lora finally says, nodding to the bedroll next to Haze. The other Blade has long since fallen back to sleep, hands curled into tight fists in the blanket sprawled across her. 

“I will. In a bit.” Jin answers, though from his tone, Lora doubts it.

“You’ve seemed worried.” Lora presses further. “Is it because of Malos?”

“No.” Jin says quickly, shaking his head. It’s another lie. He didn’t use to lie so much- not to her. That’s another thing that changed, on the same day Haze did. 

“Okay.” Lora doesn’t push him. Instead, her shoulders drop. Maybe, once this is dealt with, things might just start getting better. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

By the time morning comes, Haze still looks weary and tired, but that's a look Lora has gotten used to on her face. Jin, too, if she’s being honest, but he does a better job of hiding it. 

When they finish their trek through Dannagh Desert and Auresco comes into sight, it doesn’t take long for Lora to spot Addam waiting by the gate. 

“Lora!” Addam calls out, waving a hand to greet them as the three of them come in closer. 

“Addam.” Lora lets out a sigh of relief, glad both to see him and for the trip to have reached its end. “It’s so good to see you. Did you just arrive?”

“Just moments before you. Thank you for coming.” He glances at Lora’s companions before turning his attention back to her. “I wouldn’t have dragged you out here if it weren’t important. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Mythra, so I thought I should at least walk in there with the Paragon’s Driver at my side.”

Lora blinks, surprised. “You haven’t heard from Mythra?”

“Oh, she comes and goes.” And maybe that shouldn’t be a shock. She’s always been a rather independent Blade. At least she does come home eventually. “What about young Mikhail? Gotten any word from him?” 

“No, not recently.” Lora’s mood visibility dims. “It’s been over a year now.”

“Oh, well, I’m sure he’s just fine. It’s not uncommon for young men to want to explore the world on their own for a while.” Addam says. He waits for a response, but when Lora doesn’t give one, he places his hands on his hips. “Well, let’s not keep them waiting.”

Addam turns in a pivot, and Lora quickens her pace to match his. “How was he captured?”

“Apparently, he attacked a Tornan ship, along with a few others.” Addam explains. “The rest got away, but he was captured. It was only after that they noticed the Core and sent word to me.”

“I’m surprised they’ve been able to hold him.”

“I am as well.”

Clearly the rest of Auresco has already been notified of Addam’s arrival. As soon as he approaches the palace, there’s a guard ready to escort the four of them into the prison. It’s not a long walk, and quickly enough, the guard has stopped in front of one of the cells. They stick their keys into the hole, and the door spills open. 

Addam blinks and then turns to the guard. “Are you certain this is the correct cell?”

Lora’s wondering the same thing, but the guard just nods. Inside is indeed a Blade, sat on the ground and wrapped in chains. She has the reported Amethyst Core and even black wings that at a distance could pass as an Artifice, but that is where the similarities end. Peering closer at the Core, it’s easier to see that most of it actually shines blue, with a thin shard of purple through the center. 

Though probably not necessary, Lora states the obvious. “That’s… not Malos.”

“No, indeed not.” Addam steps inside the cell, and when the Blade makes no move towards him, he crouches down in front of her. “Hello, friend. Your Core Crystal looks awfully interesting.” He pauses to let her speak but continues when she says nothing. “Mind telling us why?” 

Aside from the Aegises, the only Core Lora has ever seen with anything but a pure blue color is Minoth’s, but this isn’t that. Or maybe it is? Maybe the red mixed with the blue, leaving this strange mark down the center. It’s hard to say. 

It only becomes harder when the Blade says nothing in response, locking her eyes with Addam’s for a moment before silently turning away.

“How strange.” Addam finally says, giving in and pushing himself back to his feet. “Well regardless, this attack seems to not involve Malos.” He looks to Lora. “I apologize for the inconvenience of bringing you here.”

Lora’s disappointed as well, but it’s hardly Addam’s fault. “Better safe than sorry, I suppose.” 

Addam steps out of the cell, allowing the guard to shut it behind him. “Well, while you’re here, you might as well enjoy the city for a bit. You don’t come here very often, do you?”

No, she doesn’t, and at any rate, she’d rather let Haze rest and recuperate before forcing her back into another long few days of travel. Lora looks to Jin, trying to feel out his opinion on the matter, but he doesn’t look at her. Instead, his eyes are fixed onto the imprisoned Blade’s chest. 

“Jin?” Lora prods.

He doesn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he forces himself to break his stare and meet his Driver’s. “Hm?”

“How do you feel about staying here for a bit?” Lora repeats the question. “Might as well, right?”

“Yes, that’s fine.” Jin nods, but Lora isn’t convinced he even heard the question. His head turns back towards the cell for a few seconds longer, until he seems to finally notice everyone’s attention on him. That’s enough for him to snap away his focus entirely and nod forward. “Shall we go?”

“Yes, of course.” Addam leads the group, and they make their way out of the prison. 

It’s already late in the day, and Haze is exhausted as usual, so Lora heads straight for the inn. It isn’t until night has fallen and his Driver is asleep that Jin exits the room and retraces his steps back into the palace. 

The moment the Blade is in sight, Jin speaks. “Where did you get that Core?” Jin is sure he knows the answer already, but he needs it confirmed. He recognizes her. She was part of the ambush. Herald, Jin recalls. “Tell me!”

Slowly, she looks up. Her eyes flicker for a moment, confirming that they’re alone before turning back to Jin. “You have enough information to piece it together yourself.”

Jin wants to scream. “You said you would kill him, not tear him to pieces.”

How long was that process? Did they shatter his Core in one go, each taking a shard like a buffet before he faded away, or was it slow? Was he left in a state like Haze for months- maybe years- confused and afraid as he was smashed and severed, over and over again.

“We couldn’t kill him. It would have deactivated the pieces we took, and it would have all been for nothing.” Herald explains, her voice flat and calm. “We had to keep him alive.”

“Why did you take any at all!?” Jin yells back, grabbing at the bars. “You wanted to claim his power for yourself!? Use it like-!?” 

“It doesn’t give us power.” Herald interrupts. “It gives us memories.”

The answer throws Jin off, and he pauses. “What?”

She looks away, crossing her arms. “I will not pretend to understand the science completely, but Malos remembers the old future. I would assume the other Aegis does as well.” 

“And so do I. What’s your point?”

“Most don’t.” 

Humans seem to have held onto their memories the worst. For Lora, the day the world reset was like any other. Addam was no different. For Blades, there were echoes, but most thought little of it, and in time, even that faded. If it weren’t for the scars left on Haze and Jin’s own memories remaining as they were, his family would have moved on from the events of the old future long ago.  

“I had vague recollections. Dreams. But you remember. We can only guess that it is a result of your connection with Malos.” Jin has long since come to the same conclusion, but even Malos wasn’t able to confirm it. It’s not like it mattered anyway. “By linking ourselves with the Aegis’s Core, we were able to mimic that.”

Jin narrows his eyes. “You remember now? Everything?”

“Yes.” Herald nods. “Everything I experienced in the future that never was has been returned.”

Jin clenches his teeth, quickly shaking his head. It makes sense, but at what cost? “How many of those ‘shards’ did you take?”

“As many as we needed.” She says simply, not a hint of remorse in her voice. 

“You ripped him apart. You-” And then Jin stills, his mind reeling back to her words from just a few moments prior. “He’s still alive?”

“Yes.” 

“Where is he?”

At that, she hesitates, and Jin prepares himself to force the cell open and get his answers by any means necessary.

“He escaped.” Herald finally answers. “A few months ago. We’ve been trying to track him down since. Given the new technology Torna’s been developing, we thought he might be involved. That’s why we attacked the ship, but it’s much too rudimentary.”

He’s alive. He escaped. He’s free. The relief is palpable, but it’s hard to allow himself to hope against something that had been a foregone conclusion for so long now. “If he’s alive, why didn’t he come to-” 

“Come to you?” She interrupts, and for the first time, her monotone voice parts way for disbelief. “Do you not recall how your last encounter with him ended?” 

His hands curl to fists. “That was because of you!” 

“We did what we did to protect the world, and you did no differently.” 

“Malos wasn’t going to hurt anyone. He told me.” Back then, seventeen years ago, just a few weeks after the world was restored. “He had no intention of continuing the same path from before. That's why he went to Gormott, but you couldn’t leave him be!”

“We saw what we saw.” Herald says gently, but not kindly. Her words are firm, leaving no room for anything else. “How unlikely that outcome seems to you doesn’t matter. We know this future will occur unless Malos is dealt with.”

“I can stop him.” Jin says instead. “I can convince him to stand down- whatever he might be planning. He doesn’t have to die, or whatever it is you intend for him.” The last words come out with barely disguised disgust. 

If she notices it, she makes no mention. “If you truly believed that, you wouldn’t have taken our approach before.”

“I was-” 

Scared? Resentful? Filled with an all consuming rage?

“Wrong. I was wrong.” He finally finishes. “Do you know where he is?”

“We can get a vague idea from our Cores, but he’s hiding.” Herald admits. “I don’t have specifics.”

“Can you take me to him?” Jin wraps his fingers around the bars of the cell. “As close as you can?”

She doesn’t respond at first, instead just watching him. “What exactly are you hoping to achieve with that?” 

“I just need to talk to him. That’s all.”

 “And that’ll fix everything, will it?”

“Yes.” It has to. It must. 

She pauses again, and if thinking, and then finally, “Very well. I will take you there, if you can release me from here.”

“Indol. Mor Ardain. Uraya. Leftheria. Coeia- no. No, that’s…”

He shifts. The chains rattle. 

“Argentum. Tantal. Morthya. Torna.” His brow furrows. That’s not right. Torna isn’t a Titan. Or is it? He can’t remember. 

His list runs out, so he moves to something else. 

“Igna. Flamii. Feris. Bufa. Tinkir. Peng- no, wait. Tinkir. No. Tilkir. Tilkin. Tinkin. Tirkil.” He adjusts again, suddenly slamming his head against the wall hard enough that he feels a drop of blood start to drip down his neck. “Tirkon. Tankir. Tunkir. Trinkil.”

He pauses, takes in a breath, and then whispers the answer. “Tirkin. Stupid… bird things.”

Bird things. There was another bird thing. He fought a bird thing. Somewhere. His partner was there. 

What’s her name?

…

What’s his name?

He tries to wipe the blood from the back of his neck, but his hand comes short, stopped by the chain that keeps it attached to the wall. It’s different from before. It’s not as cold here. 

True as that may be, it doesn’t stop the chill that spreads over him when the door slides open. 

“Well, what do you know? And we thought you were dead.” His feet scratch against the ground, trying their best to push him as far against the wall as they can manage, but it does little to stop the approach of the Urayan stranger as he saunters into the room. Once he’s close enough, the man lowers himself to his haunches to meet his eyes. “The Aegis, Malos.”

It’s like the word flips a switch in his head. Yes. Malos. That’s his name. It was at the tip of his tongue. Malos. Malos. Logos. Logos? No. Malos.

The man reaches forward, and the chains prevent Malos from putting up much of a fight as he rips off the metal plating covering his Core. Or rather, what’s left of his Core. 

“That's a doozy, right there.” The man whistles. Malos makes a sound like a growl, but no one acknowledges it. “No wonder you're so tame. Did the other Aegis do this to you?” He pauses to consider this, and then shrugs. “Hm, maybe not.”

“My lord, should we alert the Queen?” Malos’s head whips up to stare at the second man, standing in the doorway. If he squints, he can see a third behind him, both also Urayan. 

“No, keep this to yourselves.” The man orders before turning back to Malos. He stares at him, and Malos hates it. “Let's see if he can be of use first.”

Chapter Text

Lora rests her hands against the window sill, watching the mostly empty town below. It’s too early for most of the city to have risen yet- the sun included. 

It’s strange, even now, to be here, after spending most of her childhood trying to avoid this place and its people at all costs. It was easy as a child to think it, but would they really have killed her, just to get back a stolen Blade? Maybe for the Paragon, but by the time she began questioning that, she had already aged past the point of obligated sympathy. 

Jin had believed it, or at least thought it was enough of a risk to stay away, and so that was the path they followed. 

Were there other reasons, though? Even if they didn’t kill Lora, they would have likely confiscated Jin. Maybe that was the fate he wanted to avoid. He’s never admitted it, but Lora wouldn’t blame him, if that was the case. Would they have forced him to fight, or kept him confined until Lora died of natural causes, not wanting to risk the Paragon slipping away a second time?

Even with Lora as a knight, Jin had been eager to leave the capital and return to their life in the outskirts. Was it nostalgia, or something else? Lora had promised the King to come back to Auresco at the end of her life so that Jin could be returned, and Jin had said nothing against that at the time, but if that isn’t what he wishes…

A knock at the door startles Lora out of her thoughts. She spares a glance towards the bed where Haze is still fast asleep. Hoping not to wake her, Lora walks gingerly towards the door and cracks it open.

“Addam?” Lora whispers when she recognizes the face in the hall.

“Lora.” Addam nods in greeting, keeping his voice similarly low. “I hope I did not wake you.”

“No, I’ve been up.” She has been for a few hours now. Lora slips past the door, shutting it gently behind her. “What is it?”

“I’ve received news that the Blade we visited last night has escaped from her cell.” Addam says, and Lora blinks in surprise. “The guards didn’t see anything. She must have been quick.”

“Are we going after her?”

“Not us.” Addam shakes his head. “Given that she did attack one of our ships, Torna will be searching for her, but she’s hardly Malos. However, I would like to ask if you could help us in another regard.”

Lora nods without even knowing the request. “With what?”

Instead of answering, Addam beckons her farther down the hall. “Come, let me show you.”

Lora takes a step, and then pauses. She should probably bring Haze, but on second thought, it’s better to let her sleep while she can. Lora can always catch her up later. 

Addam doesn’t question Haze’s absence, but her other Blade is a different situation. “Jin should know as well, if he’s available.”

“Jin left this morning.” Lora admits, and at Addam’s confused look, she shakes her head. “I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me. Just said he would be back soon.” 

More secrets. At this point, she’s gotten used to it, but it still hurts coming from him. 

“Perhaps Mythra’s rubbing off on him.” Addam says mostly to himself before shaking his head. “Just the two of us then.”

With no one else to wait for, Addam leads Lora down the stairs into a small room filled nearly to the brim with wooden crates.

Addam shuts the door behind them and starts walking towards a table pushed against the wall. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, the tension between Mor Ardain and Uraya is reaching a breaking point. War has become likely, so Torna is preparing.”

Lora raises an eyebrow. The tension is no secret, but this part is news. “Preparing how?”

“As it stands right now, Mor Ardain’s biggest limitation is a lack of suitable Drivers. They’ve suffered from a particularly low Blade-awakening rate, so Torna has been devising a way to get around that.” Addam pulls a thin cloth off one of the tables to reveal a sword, quickly grabbing it and offering it out to Lora. “I thought this one might suit you. How does it feel?”

Lora takes the sword into her own hand, giving it a few test swings in the open air. It’s long and thin- not particularly unlike Jin’s sword, just straighter and a tad lighter. At the top of the handle where it intersects with the blade itself, there’s a bulbous section that looks strangely out of place. “What is it made of?”

“Magmalachite.” Lora turns towards him, and she doesn’t have to speak for Addam to get the message. “I know. It’s brittle- not what you’d normally expect to see in a weapon, but it also conducts ether very well. Press right here.”

Lora follows Addam’s lead, placing her hand in the center of the sword’s t-shaped handle. After a moment, the handle lights up with a gentle, glowing blue that fills up the rest of the sword. “Oh!”

“There’s a Core Crystal inside.” Addam explains, tapping the rounded handle. “The ether flows through the sword, giving you the power of a Blade—without ever needing to awaken one.”

Lora gives the sword a few more swings, feeling the added strength behind each blow. “It’s a bit sad, isn’t it? That the Blade doesn’t get to awaken?”

“These Blades failed to be awakened regardless.” Addam eases her concern. “And once the conflict is over, they’ll be put back into circulation until a Driver with the right aptitude comes along.”

“I suppose…” Lora says, not fully convinced. It boils a Blade down to their fighting abilities alone, discarding everything else that makes them who they are. Logic aside, it seems… neglectful, at best. 

“We’re going to try sending another shipment today, and if all goes well, we’ll make it to Mor Ardain without another incident.”

Lora looks around the room at the dozens of filled crates. “This is what that Blade was after?”

“It’s what was on the ship she attacked, so we can only assume.” Addam places his hands on his hips. “I plan to escort this ship myself, and my hope was that you might be willing to join me.”

“Of course.” Lora agrees, and then hesitates.

Addam, again, reads her mind. “The trip to Mor Ardain is a short one. Should Jin return soon, Torna would happily point him in the right direction.”

“Alright, then.” Lora nods, and then smiles. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Hugo.”

“Myself as well.” Addam matches the look. “He’s busy these days, of course, but he would never turn down a visit from yourself.”

Mythra steps off the boat and into Aletta. Those who notice her give her a nod, but most continue on with their work uninterrupted. Once upon a time, she had turned heads everywhere she went, but not anymore- not here, at least. She’s old news. 

She walks up the stone steps and pushes the main building’s door open. “Addam?”

Surprisingly, there’s no response- no head peeking around the corner with a wide, relieved smile, so she continues further. 

“Addam-” Mythra cuts herself off when she finally spots another living being in the house. Milton is flicking through a bundle of papers with even more strewn across what once was a kitchen table. He doesn’t acknowledge her at all, instead his attention and frustration stuck on the papers in question.

“He’s not here.” Milton says back once he’s finished his current pile. “He went to Auresco.”

“Auresco?” Mythra asks, surprised. Addam’s trips to the capital are usually planned far in advance, and Mythra hadn’t been gone for that long. The man would have at least mentioned it to her. “What’s he doing there?”

“Apparently Malos was captured.” Milton says far too casually for the words themself, and he couples that with a long sip from a mug placed strategically on the only part of the table not covered in parchment. He speaks up again before Mythra can muster a response. “We’ve already gotten word back. It wasn’t Malos. Some other Blade.”

“Weird.” It’s hard to mistake a Blade like Malos, but she’ll take the false alarm. Wherever Malos slipped away to after giving Jin the seal, he’s stayed quiet, and thus the difficult decision of figuring out what to do with Malos has been on hold for seventeen years and counting. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Milton snaps before rubbing at his eyes. He doesn’t apologize, but his tone shifts into a decidedly less aggressive one. “I’m just reading through reports.”

Mythra half sits on the edge of the table. “Anything about Mikhail?”

Milton’s shoulders fall. “No.”

“Isn’t that good news?” Mythra picks up one of the papers, giving it a brief once over. “Usually it’s the dead ones that pop up here.” She pauses, glancing up at Milton’s glare before looking back down at the paper. “Sorry.”

“It’s just-” Milton finally sets the rest of the pages back onto the table. “He wouldn’t just disappear.”

Mythra wants to correct that yes, apparently he would. Because that’s what he did. But that’s clearly not what Milton wants to hear, so she keeps her mouth shut. Her eyes roam the papers instead until they stop on one in particular. She plucks it from the pile, and her eyes narrow at the contents. “What’s this about?”

Milton glances at the title. “Some Blades going missing. Nothing to do with Mik.”

Blades. Going missing. Could be nothing. Could be some bandits raiding outlying villages.

Could be something much worse.

“I’m gonna head out.”

Milton’s head jerks up. “You just got back.”

Mythra folds up the paper and slides it into her belt. “Yeah, there’s someone I need to check up on.”

He narrows his eyes at the vague response. “You think there might be more to that report?” He doesn’t wait for her reply before stepping away from the table and grabbing his bag. “I’m coming with.”

“I don’t think this is Mikhail-related.” Mythra admits, expecting disappointment from the man, but he doesn’t pause in his motions.

“It could be though.” Milton argues. “They haven’t reported any humans, but they could be wrong. And besides, none of the soldiers are willing to follow up on any of the leads I do have with me. So if you’re going out again, I’m coming with you.”

If Milton had been able to awaken a Blade, Mythra’s sure he would’ve gone out and not come back without his prize, but as is, he’s not much of a warrior himself. Much to Mythra’s relief and Milton’s disappointment. 

Mythra pauses to consider this, and then sighs. At least she can keep an eye on him. “Alright. Fine.”

By the time Mythra had even started speaking, though, Milton was out the door and headed for the dock. 

The toes of Malos’s shoes drag against the ground for a few moments before he manages to get his feet under him. The men on either side of him pay no attention as Malos looks all around the empty hall, gathering in as much information as he can.

These people aren’t the same ones from before. The ones that-

Malos cuts his thoughts off before he can drown in them. 

These guys are Urayan, Malos is pretty sure. The details of each country are still fuzzy in his mind, but he can feel the Urayan Titan’s Core. He could never mistake that.

Uraya is where his partner was awakened. He remembers that now. He could feel it, the moment she came into the world. The moment he wasn’t the only Aegis anymore. He had been tempted then and there to sweep in and pull her away, but there was no need. She’d come to the same conclusion as him eventually. She just needed to warm up first, just like he did. 

Right?

They must not be in the capital, Malos notes. Or at least, not the palace. The building is far too small. They reach each corner too quick. 

Finally, they turn into a room, and Malos is pushed to his knees. His bound hands catch himself on the ground, stopping him from tumbling forward. 

“Do you know what this is?” A piece of machinery is shoved in his face by the same man that spoke to him the day before. He doesn’t recognize it, and his silence is responded to by his hands being pulled away from the ground and the metal being forced into them. “You’re supposed to be good with Cores, right? Figure it out.”

Malos’s eyes flicker up. “Or what?”

The man’s lips quirk. “Or maybe I’ll decide you aren’t worth the effort after all.”

Malos considers this. He can’t remember if he wants to die. He did at some point, he knows that much. And at another point, he didn’t. Then there was this confusing, mixed time where he knew he should, but didn’t, for some reason or another. Someone needed him. Someone he hurt. Someone who hurt him. 

Malos looks back down at the contraption in his hands. It’s a hollow, metal ball with a loose, sliding door with just enough room inside for a fist or something similar to fit inside. There are dull lines all across it, not unlike dead ether lines. 

“It’s an ether converter.” Malos finally says, gesturing to the empty cavity. “The Core goes in here.” Strangely enough, from there, there’s nothing to pull the ether to. As is, it’s little more than an excessive night light. 

“That’s what we thought.” The man snatches the item out of Malos’s hands. “A spy found it in Mor Ardain, but we haven’t been able to do much with it. The King doesn’t believe it’s justification enough to declare war, but I know the Ardainians are preparing for it.” 

Malos can’t tell if the spiel is meant for him or for the subordinates standing behind him. Regardless, the man doesn’t seem to be looking for a response. He walks towards the far end of the room, pulling away a blanket to reveal a larger machine. It’s not unlike a cannon in appearance- similar to one of Siren’s weapons. In fact, it looks identical to one of Siren’s weapons.

“I won’t stand idle and wait for Mor Ardain to make the first move.” The man says, anger piercing his voice. “That being said, I lack the resources the Ardainians seem to have to make this technology work.” He locks eyes with Malos. “You will make it functional.”

“That’s my Artifice.” 

“Scavenged from your attack on Auresco.” Not Siren then. One of his Gargoyles instead. “We haven’t been able to get it to work on our own, but I imagine you might have more luck.”

Malos glances around the room. There’s a work bench on the side with some very basic tools and loose scrap metal. “I’ll need more than a hammer and nails to get that junk working.”

“You’ll have what you need.” The man promises. He looks at the guards, and with a nod, they pull him roughly back to his feet. The man approaches, and this time he pulls out a key and unlocks the chains around Malos’s wrists. “If you can get this machine working, you will be rewarded. If you cannot, I will have no need for you. Is that clear?”

Malos scowls. “Crystal.”

“And I won’t stand for any games.” He takes another step towards Malos, as if the Aegis should find him intimidating. “If I suspect that you plan to make a fool of me, there will be consequences.”

They stare at one another, waiting for Malos to make his move. When Malos says nothing, he’s shoved forward towards his Artifice scraps. 

“Well, then. Make a list of what you need, and get to work.”

Chapter Text

“So what now? We split up?” Milton moves a few paces ahead of Mythra, scouting out the mostly empty dock. “You take the top side, and I’ll sneak past the guards?”

Mythra catches up with him quickly enough. “You stay here.”

“Yeah, because that’s totally why I made the trip.” Milton rolls his eyes. His shoulders fall as he inspects the Titan further. Then, he tilts his head towards her, annoyance in his face. “Wait, is this about Malos?”

Mythra pauses for a second before furrowing her brow. “No? Why would it be?”

Milton shrugs, pushing his hands into his pockets. “It’s all anyone seems to care about Indol for, nowadays.” 

“Not me.” Mythra lets out a breath, continuing down the path. She calls back at the last second, not bothering to look and see if Milton had obeyed her original order. “Stay here.”

Mythra exits the dock, slips through the markets and up the white stairs of the Praetorium. She does her best to avoid the monks- not that she’s sneaking around, but they’d want her to make an appointment before rushing into the Audience Chambers. Mythra would rather not spend any more time in Indol than she has to.

If anyone sees her, they turn a blind eye to it. Perks of being an Aegis. Mythra wonders if Malos experienced the same when he lived here, once upon a time. 

Finally, she passes through the entryway and spots the man in question, speaking to a monk in the corner of the room. 

“Amalthus.”

The former conversation ends quickly at the call of his name, and he shoos the other man away and out of the room. Then finally, he turns to his guest. “Pardon my manners, Aegis, I wasn’t expecting you.” He pauses, and a barely visible smile crosses his lips. “Though perhaps I should be used to your frequent visits.”

She used to come more often. How couldn’t she? After everything she saw him do, she was more concerned about keeping track of him than even Malos. Afterall, she had Jin to persuade Malos if it came to that, while Amalthus is his own beast. 

“How’s the new job?” Mythra steps towards him, taking the excuse of conversation to look around the room for anything out of place. He became Praetor just a couple years prior. Mythra had been worried that might be the start of his next rampage, but Amalthus has remained quiet- at least, as for now.

“It is an honor to carry the burden.” Amalthus nods his head forward as he replies, clasping his hands in front of him. “How can Indol be of assistance to you?”

With nothing out of the ordinary that she can spot, Mythra gives up on that quest. “There’s some missing Blades. You have anything to do with it?”

“Not that I can think of.” Amalthus answers, and it sounds genuine, but Mythra knows he can hear the suspicion in her voice. “Our refugee camp is almost entirely human. The few Blades we have arrived with their Drivers. I hardly think they would be considered missing.”

Even if he did know, he wouldn’t tell her, so Mythra shifts the conversation. “Any word from Malos?”

“You’ve seen him more recently than I.” Amalthus says, and then stops to ponder it. “It is strange. He used to come for visits every now and then, even after he left my side. But that activity has ceased since his attack on Torna, much to my own relief.”

“Awaken any other Blades?”

“At this point, I think I’ve learned that being a Driver is not my calling.” Amalthus shakes his head. “I have decided to leave that role to the monks.” 

Mythra can’t help but agree. “Probably for the best.”

“How is Minoth?” Amalthus raises his head, lowering it when Mythra only glares. “I understand. He doesn’t want me to know where he is, and I will respect that. I only wished to know if you had spoken to him recently.”

No, she hasn’t. He left, just like he did the last time, though with less of a sense of finality. Addam could call upon him again, if the war against Malos was restarted, but for now, he’s gone back to his own, simple life far away from his Driver. 

Mythra shrugs. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Fan, too.” And then she watched him. 

If the name means anything, he doesn’t show it. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with anyone by that name.”

“Course, not.” 

It’s been trial and error, trying to figure out how this whole memory thing works. Aegises remember. Other Blades have faint memories that fade like dreams. Humans have nothing. Maybe it has something to do with their Cores, storing the data. 

Then there’s Blades like Jin, who remember through Malos’s Core. He’s probably the only exception to the rule, but it did raise the question of what would happen to humans bonded with Aegises. Addam doesn’t remember, so Amalthus shouldn’t either, but it’s hard to believe that logic with so much on the line.

Amalthus reads her far too well. “You do not trust me, do you, Mythra?”

She doesn’t deny it. There’s no point. “No, I don’t.”

“I do not blame you.” Amalthus says as he walks past Mythra and towards the mural of the World Tree, carved into the wall. “My history with Malos is hardly trust-inspiring.” Then, he turns his gaze back to her. “But I hope you realize that I had you awakened for a reason- to end Malos’s reign of destruction. While you did not succeed in the manner I expected, you did bring his plans to a halt.”

“But why did Malos want it to begin with?”

“I see what you’re implying.” Amalthus pauses, thinking. “It’s impossible to say. Perhaps he was influenced by myself, but I was a younger man back then. Foolish. Angry. If only Malos had been able to change as I did.”

Hm. “Yeah.”

And then there’s silence. 

Amalthus breaks it. “Is there anything else you wished for me, Mythra?”

Yeah, actually. A lot. But nothing she can ask for.

“No.” Mythra says instead. She turns, and then pauses. “Just don’t forget that I’m watching you.”

Amalthus smiles, and despite his words, she knows she hasn’t fooled him. “The Aegis’s protection is more than I deserve, but I am grateful.”

With that, she exits the Audience Chambers and makes her way back towards the dock. Milton isn’t where she left him, but that isn’t much of a surprise. She glances around until she finds him, chatting away in the refugee camp. 

“He’s blond, about this tall.” Milton reaches his hand a few inches above his own head. “Short hair, but he might have grown it out.”

“Milton.” Mythra calls out, nodding towards the dock. “Let’s go.”

Milton turns from the conversation and quickly catches up with her. “What did you find out?”

“No one here is going to tell us anything.” Mythra steps onto the waiting boat, giving Milton an impatient wave when he stalls at the entryway.

“Then why did we even come here?!” Milton throws up his hands before finally stepping inside. 

“I told you. I had to talk to someone.” Mythra frowns. “Now I want to talk to someone else.”

Artifices draw power from the Conduit, up in the World Tree. That, plus a combination of a bunch of security clearance privileges and ether signatures. It’s really no wonder that a group of Urayan humans weren’t able to get his Gargoyle’s severed cannon to work properly-or at all. Even Malos can barely make it function. 

Barely, being the key word. It’s disconnected from the rest of its body, meaning it can’t draw from its primary power source. It has to rely on the ether converter, and Artifices weren’t designed to do that. But, with enough gentle persuasion, he can convince it to accept the input. 

Malos reaches towards his Core, rubbing it along the edges- just enough to wake it up. Every touch burns, but Malos pushes through it, letting the power seep out of him and into the converter. The center cannon, surrounded by four smaller cannons, lights up with a glowing purple. It only lasts for a few moments before fading, but it’s proof of concept. It works. 

Malos rests his head against it before slowly pulling back. “It’s finished.” 

The Urayan crosses his arms, watching from the far side of the room. “Give us a demo, then. I want more than a light show.”

Malos lets out a huff. “I’ll need a power source.”

“Use this.” A Core Crystal is tossed in the air, landing in Malos’s arms before he can even think about trying to catch it. Obeying the order, he drops to his knees, opening up the converter's compartment and slides the Core inside. After just a few seconds, the cannon lights back up, and this time, it stays lit. 

“Brilliant.” The man claps his hands together and approaches the weapon. “How do I fire it?”

“You can’t.” Malos’s quick retort has the man’s head whipping towards him- his brief satisfaction waning. “My Artifices are controlled… telepathically.” It’s not the right word, but Malos can’t think of a way to describe it that this human would understand. “I can’t just add a trigger for you to pull.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“You would if you were smart.” To that, the man kicks him squarely in the head. Malos rears back, but he doesn’t react otherwise. 

“So you’re the only one that can control it?” The annoyance is obvious in his voice, but it’s hardly Malos’s fault. That is how it works, whether the man likes it or not. “How convenient for you.”

Malos slowly turns his head back towards him. “Mythra would be a good bet, too, but I’d guess she’s busy.”

The man’s face curls, and Malos prepares for another attack, but it doesn’t come. “We’ll have to make do then.” He waves at the machine. “Activate it. I want to see it.”

At the man’s gesturing, Malos turns the cannon towards the far wall. He reaches for the lingering mental link he has with this scrap, and fires. It glows brighter and brighter until it releases and hits its target. The blast cracks the wall, turning it black with ash, but it doesn’t crumble- instead remaining stable. 

“That’s it?” The man asks incredulously. “A gunpowder cannon could’ve done more than that.”

“You gave the most advanced weapon Alrest has ever seen the equivalent of a double AA battery, and you expect it to work at full power?” Instead of being angry, the man looks confused, and Malos realizes his error. Wrong words. He’s getting his words mixed up again. “Artifices are powerful because of what powers them. If you want this working, you’re going to need more than some common Blade.”

“So we need a stronger Core, then.” He thinks, and then glares at the Blade still kneeling on the floor. “Pity we have to keep you around.”

Malos scowls. “I did as you asked.”

“You did.” The man agrees with a nod. “And you still have your life, don’t you?” He turns to his subordinate behind him. “Go through our horde. See if there’s anything half decent.” The other man disappears, and the remaining one is left to ponder. “Though, if we’re going for power, maybe that Paragon of Torna wouldn’t be a half bad idea. It’d serve Torna right, for getting involved.”

Malos goes cold at the word, but he isn’t sure why. That word always makes it harder for him to breathe. Torna. 

“You’re done for now. You can rest until we’re ready.”

Malos squints up at him. “What do you plan to do with it?”

“That’s not your concern, Aegis.” The man shakes his head, and then he smiles. “Though I wouldn’t worry. It’s nothing you haven’t done before.”

The hint would be helpful, if he could remember what he did before. He doesn’t have a chance to ask, though he probably wouldn’t anyway, as the man leaves, slamming and locking the door behind him. 

Torna. The name keeps ringing through his ears. But why? The Titan Not-Titan. Why are his memories so conflicting? He feels apathy and disgust. Anger. Fear. But then he also feels safe. At peace. Home. 

Perhaps he was awakened in Torna. No, that doesn’t feel right. The feelings associated with his awakening are entirely different. 

Malos can’t help the frustration that bubbles up within him again. He bangs his closed fist against his head, as if punishing himself for his own weakness. Remember. Just remember. It can’t be that hard. Remember. Remember. 

Right now, he is in Uraya. That man, Errol, one of the others had called him, is Urayan. He is a secret, kept locked away. The others- Errol’s enemies and allies- don’t know he’s here. That is by design.

There is a war coming. Malos is to be used as a weapon in that war- or rather, his Gargoyle will be. His artifice will be used to do something Malos himself has already done at least once before. 

And before this- before the underground prison- there was snow. No- not snow. Not yet. Eventually, snow comes. In the future. Right now, it’s just cold. A Titan, hidden deep below the Cloud Sea. Blades. One of them was familiar, the rest strangers. They-

Malos presses his palms against his head. No, he doesn’t want to remember that. How cruel that it’s the only thing he can remember. His powers bound. His Core ripped apart. They never stopped, no matter what he did. No matter how much he begged. Even when he couldn’t remember his own name. Even when he couldn’t remember why they hated him. He still doesn’t remember that. 

Then they let their guard down. He was too weak to fight back, to struggle, to run- or so they thought. Maybe they pitied him, or maybe they thought he was an empty shell. But either way, they were reckless, and he slipped away. 

He ran. He hid. He soaked whatever ether he could out of the ground, finally free from his prison. Some of his strength returned, but not enough- not enough to prevent his second capture when the Urayans happened upon him. 

At least Errol doesn’t need to rip apart his soul to get what he wants. 

And before then? That’s when things get foggy. Memories involving Mythra are always strongest. They’re too connected for him to forget her so easily. But his other memories? Those are harder to piece together. 

He had been… content. No, maybe that’s not the right word. That implies some degree of happiness. He wasn’t happy. Far from it. He was lonely. He… longed for someone. Mythra? No, not Mythra. Whoever it was, they weren’t there, but he was okay with that. He had chosen that. They didn’t need him anymore. That was enough for him. 

He’d wait for them. Maybe one day, they’d make the same choice as before and come back to him. Maybe they wouldn’t. 

But they did. They did come back. He came back. And Malos had hope again. Malos had willingly given up everything he had, but he had come back for him. To bring him home. 

Then there was an obstacle. Malos wasn’t afraid, but then another feeling had sunken in. He can’t remember what it was. 

Jin wouldn’t look at him. 

Jin. 

Finally, another name. It’s a relief, like it was waiting just out of reach, and he was finally, finally, able to grab it. 

Jin. 

He can picture him in his mind. It’s hazy, but it’s far more than he had before. Jin is a part of Torna, whatever Torna is. The two words are inseparable in his head. Torna is Jin. Jin is Torna. Jin is home. 

Paragon of Torna. 

He was there, when the Blades came. When they took him. Did they take him, too? Did they kill him? Is he gone?

Malos closes his eyes, searching desperately through his memories. No. No, he’d feel that. He’d remember that. He’s still alive, out there. He has to be. 

 He protected him. He remembers that. Jin protected him. He fought back. He tried to keep him safe. He failed, but he tried. He tried. 

There’s something wrong with that thought. A part of him gnaws at the memory- doubts it. But no, he remembers. He tried to help. He tried to stop them. 

But where is he now?

Paragon of Torna. That’s what Errol said. Rip out his Core, or kill his Driver, and stick it into the cannon. Drain him of his life, and leave a gray, empty shell behind. Rip out his soul and tear it into tiny pieces, over and over and over-

Malos grabs at his Core, each breath coming faster than the last. Labored. Gasping for air.

No. No, he will not allow it.

He stumbles to his feet and over to the cannon. Maybe, he could disassemble it, tear it into chunks that Errol would never be able to put back together. But what if he finds another stray cannon in the salvaged wreckage? What if he rips Malos apart until he can’t remember anything at all, and forces him to fix it again?

He can’t be here. As long as Errol has him, he is safe from the Blades, but Jin is in danger. If he stays, Jin dies. 

Malos grabs hold of the cannon, leaning against it to keep himself standing. He opens up the converter’s compartment and lets the shining blue Core fall out and hit the ground. In its place, Malos reaches towards his own chest. 

His Siren sank entire Titans- he remembers now. He did that, just by pouring out the energy from his Core. His presence alone was enough to control thousands of Gargoyles in the sky. What would happen if he gave them a piece of his physical Core? Just a small, itty-bitty piece. 

What if he tore himself apart, leaving even less of himself behind?

Malos brushes over his crystal, clamping his eyes shut until he finds an edge he can pry away, ignoring the searing pain that washes over him when he does. Finally, it loosens into his hand- a tiny pebble of his Core, containing in it precious data that he will never remember. 

He drops it into the converter, turns the cannon to the ceiling, and allows his power to flow. 

Chapter Text

It’s lucky that Torna had kept the news of Malos’s potential return so quiet. They’d hardly want to risk announcing his capture, only to have to retract the statement if it turned out to be false. As such, the shiphand wasn’t on the lookout for Blades with strange Cores, and it was easy enough to slip aboard. 

Now, deep into the Cloud Sea, Herald keeps her face covered, but Jin can still see the sliver of Malos’s Core peeking through the opening of the cloak. He can’t hold back of the noise of disdain that escapes his throat as he turns away.

Herald doesn’t look his way, but she responds nonetheless. “You don’t have to approve of our methods.”

“I don’t.” Jin forces through clenched teeth. His opinion should already be plenty clear, but it bears repeating nonetheless.

This time, she does tilt her head towards him. She studies his face, and he hates it. “He is dear to you.” She pauses, waiting for Jin’s response, but his hands only curl into tight fists. “If we retrieve him-”

“You won’t retrieve him.” Jin bites out. “You will take me to where he is, and then you will leave.”

Despite how firm Jin is on his plan, Herald still denies it. “We cannot allow Malos to roam free.”

“I will take care of it.” He says. It doesn’t matter how many times Herald argues- he will continue to say it. “I’ll find somewhere safe for him to go. I’ll keep an eye on him. I will manage it.”

They can believe what they want about Malos and his future. He’s not what they think he is. He won’t do what they claim to have seen. He won’t. 

And if he does? If he tries? Jin will contain him somehow. Maybe the Spirit Crucible could hold him. Jin would keep him safe, somewhere where no one will harm him, and where he can’t harm Alrest. Anywhere would be better than with them. 

“That’s not enough.”

“I will not give him back to you.” Jin snaps his head towards her. “You will not tear him apart more than you already have.”

She goes quiet again- watching him again. “It’s hard to believe that you really remember when you act like that.” Then, she shrugs. “Though I suppose you weren’t much better than him, in the end.”

“Then why haven’t you gotten rid of me?”

“You’re harmless on your own.” She says simply. “You’ll only follow that path if Malos leads you there.”

Jin scowls at the thought. “You don’t know me.” 

“No.” Herald agrees. “But your Driver is still alive. Would you destroy this world when she’s still in it?”

To that, Jin doesn’t answer. He’s saved from any further questions when Uraya’s coast comes into sight. They slip easily enough into the rest of the crowd as they make their way off the ship and onto the Titan’s back. 

Jin looks around, as if Malos would be prancing about the port, ready to be scooped away to safety. Much to his disappointment, he finds nothing out of place. “Where from here?”

“I don’t know.” Herald says honestly. “He’s hiding his signature. I cannot get much more precise than this.”

Jin huffs, and then makes up his mind. “Then we part ways here.” 

“Jin-”

“Go back to Tantal and stay there.” Jin demands, turning towards her. “Tell the rest of them that Malos is mine.”

She shakes her head. “How do you intend to find him?”

Jin answers the question for himself unintentionally, at first. The mere thought of him being so close after so long has him reaching towards the timid bond he had closed off many years ago. Maybe if he hadn’t, he would have known long ago that Malos lived, but he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of feeling the moment the betrayal set in. And the moment his life came to an end. 

He had muffled him in his mind out of cowardice. 

“You’re not the only one that can sense him.” And now that he’s close, he can follow it. He can bring him home. 

Without another word, Jin walks off deeper into the city. Herald stays where she is, watching his retreat. Then, she reaches towards the Core in her chest. She presses her fingers against it, letting it pulse once, then twice. Then, she waits, and she doesn’t have to wait long before she feels an additional pulse in response. 

There’s a knock at the door, which isn’t all that much of a surprise. The person behind the door, however, is. 

“Mind some company?” 

Minoth squints his eyes at her, not entirely sure how to answer the unexpected visitor. “I didn’t tell anyone I was here.” 

“Lucky guess.” Mythra doesn’t wait for a response, squeezing past Minoth and into the theater’s backroom that makes up his home.

Minoth glances back at her before turning to the other guest, still waiting at the door. “Hey, Milton.”

“Hey.” Milton nods back, entering when Minoth scoots out of the way. 

The room looks pretty similar, Mythra notes. Not as cluttered as it used to be. Maybe that’s the lack of Iona, though Mythra knows better than to blame it all on the kid. Once Minoth has enough time to gather all his junk, it’ll look the same as she remembers. 

“What have you been up to?” Mythra asks when she hears Minoth’s footsteps enter the room. 

“Mostly been keeping to myself.” Minoth says slowly, crossing his arms. Milton steps into the room as well, keeping to the sidelines and scanning through the papers across his desk. “Is something wrong?”

If only she knew. That would solve all of her problems. “I went to see Amalthus again.”

Minoth’s face turns, and Mythra doesn’t need to look at him to see it. It’s obvious enough in his voice. “I don’t need the details.”

Mythra allows him that. Even after all these years, the topic of his Driver hasn’t gotten any easier. “I know you guys haven’t chatted recently, but I wanted to see if you knew anything.”

“About what?”

Finally, she turns. She owes him at least that respect before broaching this topic. “When he turned you into a Flesh Eater, what was the process like?”

And again, Minoth’s face curls- even more so this time. There’s an additional firmness in his voice that she knows she can break away if she chips at it enough. “Mythra.”

“Did he do it in Indol?” She takes a step towards him. Minoth doesn’t respond, so Mythra drops some of her own nonchalance and lets her anxiety seep into her next words. “Please, Minoth. I need to know.”

That seems to do the trick, and the stone wall begins to crack as he gives in. “Judicium.” He sighs. “Had the help of a man named Stannif.”

“Did he die when Temperantia fell?”

“I don’t know.” Minoth shrugs. “I haven’t been to Indol since then.”

“Who cares?” Milton interrupts before Mythra can follow up. He looks away from the papers when he finds nothing of interest and glances apologetically at Minoth before continuing. “It’s just- no disrespect, but Mik’s not a Blade. He can’t be a Flesh Eater. Why do we care about this?”

“Mikhail?” Minoth blinks in surprise. It’s been so long since he had spoken to Addam or any of the others, he had assumed that Mikhail would have been spotted by now. “You still haven’t heard from him?”

“This isn’t about Mikhail.” Mythra says to Milton, ignoring Minoth’s question.

“Yeah, but we spent all this time going to Indol, and now here, and it has nothing to do with-”

“We’re not here for Mikhail.” She repeats, more harshly this time. “I told you this, and you wanted to come anyway.”

Milton goes quiet for a moment, anger starting to fill in at the dismissive response. “It’s like you don’t even care. He’s our friend. You just fly off all the time, and you don’t even bother looking for him.”

“What do you want me to do, Milton?” She all but throws her hands in the air. “He left. He doesn’t want to come home. That’s not my problem.”

Milton glares, and then he shakes his head. “Screw this.”

No one stops him as he marches towards the door and slams it shut behind him. 

“As gentle as an Aegis.” Minoth quips. 

Mythra, however, just huffs. “He won’t get far. I’ll find him later.”

Minoth seems to accept that response and side steps his way further into the small home. “Want some tea?”

Mythra considers this, and then sighs. “Sure. Why not?”

She finds a place for herself at Minoth’s small, round table, clearing it of the loose papers scattered across it. Minoth isn’t gone for long, quickly returning with two cups, sitting across from her, and placing both on the table. 

“So what’s got you snooping around?”

Mythra takes the cup into her hands and takes a long sip, letting the woody flavor soak through her. “I just don’t trust him.”

“And you’d be right.” Minoth agrees before offering her a half smile. “Though I’m biased.”

“He’s planning something. He always is.” She sets the cup down harder than intended. “And now he’s Praetor. Indol is under his control. He’s not just sitting around doing nothing.”

“But you haven’t been able to find anything.”

Unfortunately. “No.” Then she leans forward, both elbows on the table. “I just wish-”

Wish there was someone- anyone she could talk it out with. But who? Jin? Despite their brief reconciliation before his reversed-death, the man avoids her at all costs. Whether it’s because he still holds a grudge against her or he’s afraid of what information she might reveal to the others, Mythra doesn’t know. And she doesn’t care. Malos would hardly be any good for conversation, even if she knew where he was. And those are her only options. 

Addam doesn’t remember. Milton doesn’t have anything to remember. 

Minoth waits patiently for her to continue, prodding further when she remains silent. “Wish what?”

“It’s just so… quiet.” Mythra knows she's not making sense, but she can’t bring herself to care all that much. Out of all of the friends she lost, her own Driver included, Pyra is the one she finds herself longing for the most. She’ll meet Rex again one day, surely, but what reason does her sister have to exist again?

She’s a part of her, sure, but it’s different. She can’t speak. Mythra can’t hear her voice, soothing her out of her worst dreams. There’s a reason they never stayed in their ascended form for long. Powerful as it may be, it was lonely compared to the life they had grown to know together. 

And this time, she has to face it alone. 

“You never snapped out of it.” Minoth says, though there’s no accusation in his voice. He keeps it light, as if merely thinking aloud. “We all assumed you would. One bad dream- you were shook up by it, sure, but you’d go back to your old self eventually.” Mythra looks away, and that just makes Minoth press further. “What happened that day?” 

“What do you remember?” 

“It was just like any other morning, until I saw your face.” Pale white, unlike anything he had ever seen from her. She had glanced between them all as if she was surrounded by ghosts. So far from the Aegis they had grown used to. “Since then, nothing’s seemed quite right.” 

The way he interprets the question is enough to answer Mythra’s real query. She knew what the answer would be, but she couldn’t help but hope- as quickly dashed as it may have been. 

“I feel like I’ve been given a second chance to get things right. But I can feel it slipping away.” Mythra reaches out a hand, grabbing for something invisible. “I don’t know why.”

“Things seem alright, don’t they?” Minoth quirks an eyebrow. “No world ending catastrophes.”

“For now.”

Minoth hums, and then he leans back in his chair. “Well, if you decide to off my Driver, you have my blessing.”

Mythra blinks. “Is that a joke?”

Minoth considers that, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m not sure.” Then, he meets her eyes again. “I’ll figure it out afterwards.”

He’s running, because there’s nothing left to do but run. It’s one foot after the other. Nothing else matters. 

He clutches the tiny gun-sized cannon in his arms. He had yanked it off the side of the larger cannon after the explosion, along with the ether converter still holding his pebble-sized Core fragment. Despite his grip, the weapon falls from his arms and onto the ground. Malos’s feet skid against the dirt as he struggles to stop. He snatches the cannon as quickly as he can manage and keeps on running. 

The ground suddenly turns steep as he reaches the stomach, and his balance is lost. He tumbles face first down the hill, hit by vines and sharp rocks that stick out of the ground. Finally, it levels off, and Malos rolls to a stop. He catches his breath, and then his eyes snap open. He pats around, searching for the cannon. Finally, his fingers catch on some metal, and he pulls it close to his chest. 

He lays there for a moment, just breathing. He reaches towards his shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the fallen debris, healing slowly but surely. He wishes he could lay here forever, relax his body and wait for the pain to fade. 

He can’t stay here. 

With a muffled groan, he turns onto his stomach and pushes himself to his knees. He looks around to gather his surroundings. When he tries to stand, he quickly collapses forward. 

Damn weakness. He’s not supposed to be like this. He’s certain of that. 

He tries again, this time steadying himself on a tree. He manages to stay up, but he has to lean on the plant, holding onto it with both hands. He lets out a growl of frustration.

Why did they hate him so much? What did he do to them? He bangs his head against the tree, struggling to remember. Why? Why? What did he do to deserve this?

A sound from the side has Malos whipping around. His eyes flicker across the scene until finally he stops on the creature stepping towards him. This, he remembers. Igna. 

Keeping one arm wrapped around the trunk, Malos raises the hand-held cannon and fires a shot. The creature falls dead, a gaping hole through his chest. Too much. It’s hard to calculate how much power is needed, but he needs to use it sparingly, lest that piece of his Core drains and he has to pluck out another one. What data would he sacrifice next time?

More sounds. Malos jerks around to the other side. Another Igna. This time, more carefully, Malos fires a second shot. The creature still falls dead, but the hole isn’t as large. Just enough to kill. 

But then a third creature appears. And a forth. Malos keeps the cannon steady, firing off shot after shot. His free arm remains wrapped around the circumference of the tree- the only thing keeping him from collapsing. 

The blind spot proves detrimental, however, when an unseen creature digs its claws deep into his flesh. Malos lets out a cry, jerking his arm back. The leg that takes on his weight as he rears back goes limp, and he falls to the ground. He quickly raises up the cannon, blasting the assaulting creature. The others take the opportunity given to rush towards him, and Malos doesn’t have the time to react, or the strength to fend them all off. 

He fires one shot, but in that time, two more jump in close, biting and clawing at his armor and then skin. Malos screams through clenched teeth, firing the cannon off randomly in hopes that it will hit something. Some of the creatures cry out, letting Malos know that he hit his mark, while others continue their ambush. 

Then, the cannon is knocked from his hand by scaled hands, and Malos is defenseless as it slides away and out of reach. He tries to crawl towards it, but an Igna’s claw stabs into his leg, bringing that hope to a halt. 

Then the claw disappears, and Malos muffles his cry as it’s ripped from his flesh. There’s more noise now- more sounds of pain from the creatures. Maybe they’ve turned on each other. That’s the only thing Malos can hope for- fighting over the fresh meal. 

But then Malos turns his head away from the dirt, and he sees him. The one he almost forgot. 

Jin’s sword slices through the Igna’s chest, one after one as if it takes no effort at all. Was he like that once? He skates around the small field, slashing and freezing each of the creatures, and after only a few seconds, the fight is over. 

Malos breathes, and so does Jin, staring at the bodies before him. Then, he turns his gaze towards Malos, and suddenly, Malos is torn. Fear or relief. Joy or rage. Love or hate. 

He can’t remember. 

“Malos.” Jin breaks the silence, and he seems just as unsure. His voice cracks on the single word, and Malos can’t figure out the look in his eyes. 

Malos presses one trembling hand against the ground, trying to push himself up, but the pain of his injuries takes over, and his arms go limp. That’s enough to snap Jin out of his shock. He rushes forward, falling to his knees next to Malos and wraps himself around him. When Malos still can’t stand, Jin helps him roll onto his back, making it slightly easier to breathe. 

It’s then that Jin’s eyes finally make their way to Malos’s Core, and his breath catches in his throat. Without thinking, he reaches forward, letting the tips of his fingers brush against the jagged edges. Malos responds immediately, arching his back and letting out a pathetic cry that makes Jin’s heart writhe.

“I’m sorry.” Jin whispers under his breath. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for this…”

Jin cradles Malos’s head in his lap, and Malos blinks, looking up at him. What was once blurry comes into focus. This is Jin. His Jin. His precious Jin. He remembers. 

Malos raises one of his arms, still dripping with blood, and presses his knuckles against Jin’s cheek. Jin grabs it, holding it there. “Malos?”

“How could I forget you?” Malos breathes. 

The Blades came. Jin tried to protect him, and he failed. They took him, but he tried. And now he found him again. His Jin. 

“I’m sorry.” Malos is the one that says it this time, and Jin’s face crinkles with confusion. “I don’t… remember. I’m still trying to…”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jin shakes his head. “You’re safe. I won’t let them take you again.”

The torn emotions rage war again, but Malos gives in to the easier ones. He wants them too much. Relief. Joy. Love. He’s safe. It’s over. He’s home. 

And then the fear seeps back in. He clutches Jin’s wrist, his pulse quickening. “Errol wants you.”

Again, Jin looks confused. “Who?”

“The Urayan.” Malos speaks quickly. “We have to go. He wants you. He’ll kill you. I can’t- I can’t protect you-”

“You can explain later.” Jin agrees. He pulls Malos’s arm across his shoulders, pulling him into a sitting position. His wounds are still healing, but it’s better than it was just a few minutes prior. “We need to get you somewhere safe.”

Using Jin as a crutch, Malos manages to stand, making sure to grab his discarded weapon off the ground and clipping it to his armor. They move forward as quickly as Malos can manage. Jin focuses on navigation while Malos works on keeping one step in front of the other.

“I couldn’t remember you.” Malos repeats, the words barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry-”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Jin drags them forward. There’s something off in his voice, as if the very idea of Malos uttering those words strangles his throat. “You remember now.”

Right leg. Left leg. Right leg. “I’m trying to.”

“It’ll get better.” Jin promises, but Malos isn’t sure how he can. “We’ll figure something out.”

The trip back to civilization isn’t quick at their pace, but they do manage it before the sun sets. Panic sets in Malos the moment he realizes where they’re headed.

“Errol- if he sees you.”

“We’ll be quick. We get on a ship, and then we’ll be gone. Alright?”

Malos chooses to trust him, and before long, Jin has them both aboard a medium-sized boat. He sets Malos down in the back corner, and Jin quickly kneels down next to him, running his fingers through Malos’s hair. Malos isn’t sure Jin is even aware of the action, but he leans into the touch anyway. 

The boat peels away from the harbor. Malos doesn’t know where it’s headed, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything else but this. 

The Blades came. They were walking through the forest- Jin and him. The Blades found them, and they took him. Jin tried to protect him. They overpowered him. They took him anyway. Jin found him. He’s safe now. It’s over. 

“I’m going to take you somewhere safe.” Jin promises, repeating the plan he established earlier. “I’ll protect you.”

“You tried to protect me. Before.” It’s not an accusation, but from the way Jin reacts, he must take it as such. Malos tries to course correct. “I remember that. You tried to stop them. Thank you.”

Jin falls silent, and the way he’s looking at him turns his stomach, but he doesn’t know why.

“We can protect each other.” Malos finally says, hoping that will change Jin’s face, but it doesn’t. “Errol wanted to take your Core. I won’t let him. I’ll keep you safe.”

Jin jerks his head forward in a nod, but otherwise he stays silent. He moves from his knees to sit next to Malos on the ground, back pressed against the wall of the boat. There’s no roof on this ship, so when he looks up, he sees the sky. 

“I missed you.” Malos says, his hand reaching for Jin’s. “I couldn’t remember, but I missed you so much. I wanted you. Every day, I wanted you. But I couldn’t have you.”

But that wasn’t just after the Blades came. That was before, too. What’s changed since then? Why couldn’t Malos have him then? Maybe he’s just confused- getting things mixed up in his head. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“You have me now.” Jin says, his voice stiff. He reaches across, cupping Malos’s cheek in his palm. “You’ll have me forever. I swear.”

And that’s all he’s ever wanted, isn’t it? 

Malos leans towards him, but as his eyes gaze across the rest of the ship, he goes stiff. The terror fills him like ice stabbing through his veins long before his mind can process what he’s seeing. Jin notices the change and follows his line of sight. He sees it too and jumps to his feet. 

“Herald.” Jin snaps.

The Blade steps towards them from the other end of the boat, and despite the urge to move- to run, to fight- Malos can’t get his limbs to obey him. “I told you this wasn’t going to be enough.”

“And I told you to go!” Jin yells back, his eyes narrowing. “Were you waiting for us?”

But Herald doesn’t need to answer, and soon another Blade steps into view from the shadows. And then another. Jin spots them quickly and draws his sword, taking a protective stance in front of Malos. 

“I won’t let you take him.” Jin says firmly. “Not again.”

The Blades came. He and Jin were walking through the Tornan forest. Jin said they were headed towards his camp with Lora and Haze. He’d introduce them properly then. It would be awkward, but Lora already knows the truth. She knows to expect him. 

Then, they came, but it’s nothing they couldn’t handle. Just some bandits. Just some Blades. Except, he recognizes one of them from before. Or rather, from after. He’s confused, and then he turns to Jin, but he won’t look at him. Jin won’t meet his eyes. 

That’s when he understands. 

Malos pushes himself to his feet, and his stare is directed at Jin instead of the ones surrounding them. This pain overrides his fear. “You did it again.”

The words are enough to divert Jin’s attention. He tilts his head towards him, still holding his sword in the direction of the intruders. “Malos.”

“You did it again.” Malos repeats, breathing out each word as the realizations come- as the memories come flooding back. “You led me to them again.”

“No.” Jin says firmly, shaking his head. “No, that’s not what this is. I didn’t know-”

“You promised.” Malos’s voice breaks, but Jin seems to shatter. 

“I’m sorry.” The other Blades are forgotten as he turns to Malos completely, letting his sword dissipate. “It was a mistake. That’s why I came here- to fix it. I want to help you.”

“You helped them.” Malos’s breathes quicken- the one solace from the fear he had found violently yanked from him. “Why do you hate me? What did I do?”

“I don’t hate you.” Jin shakes his head again, more aggressively this time. “I don’t. I can’t.”

“You…” And then Malos’s gaze goes back to the Blades. To his nightmares. He can’t go back. He can’t. Malos reaches for the cannon hooked around his waist and points it forward- directly at Jin. 

Jin goes still, and it’d be an easy shot. He can see his Core peaking through his bangs. He wouldn’t even have to use up what’s left of the cannon’s power. One shot. 

But his hand shakes. He can’t. He can’t do it. 

“Malos-”

He keeps the cannon raised, backing as far away from the others as possible. The Blade’s weapons are drawn, and Jin is torn between trying to keep them away and keeping Malos close. 

He can’t kill Jin, but he can’t go back either. He can’t. He can’t. The very idea makes him want to scream and cry and beg. He won’t allow it. 

The Blades don’t wait any longer. They surge forward, and Jin can’t hold them all back. So Malos does what he can. He swings himself over the edge of the boat and into the Cloud Sea. 

Chapter Text

His hands dig into the sand like claws, dragging his limb body out of the clouds and onto land. Water spills from his lips, coming in bursts as he chokes and coughs it up, desperately trying to ignore the way it burns his lungs and throat. He can’t move- can’t do anything besides just lie in the sun and let the heat bake into his armor. 

He is alone. 

He knew that before. As far back as his memory can reliably go, he has always been alone, but there had always been a lingering hope that he didn’t have to be. There was someone else. There was Torna.

There was Jin.

But there isn't. Not really. Once, perhaps, but not anymore, if even then. That time has passed. Jin has made his choice, and Malos can do nothing but try to survive it. 

Jin needed him then, but he doesn’t need him anymore. Now, he is a pest to be swatted away. To be betrayed. To be punished. 

Pushing against the sand, Malos struggles to his feet. As much as he wants to never move again, he doesn’t have the luxury of rest. He doesn’t have friends or allies to watch his back while he sleeps. He must simply keep moving and hide from whoever wants to use him next. 

Milton. Little cat-eared boy. Not so little anymore, actually. He’s still shorter than Mikhail, but a good deal taller than Mythra herself. He’s tall enough that he should be easy to spot in a crowd- especially in Uraya of all places where he would definitely stick out. 

What also sticks out, and garners far more of Mythra’s attention, is a Blade with white hair who’s supposed to be in Torna.

“Jin?” Mythra calls out, earning a mostly annoyed glance as she walks towards him, standing by the docks. She looks around a bit more, even peaking into some of the ships pending take off, but there are no companions in sight. “Where’s Lora?”

Jin gives her an undeserved glare, as if all of his problems are somehow her fault. Even if they aren’t, Jin would find an explanation to make it so. “Not here.” 

Mythra ignores his tone and raises an eyebrow. “You ditched her?”

At this, Jin removes any possible pretense of pleasantries. “I don’t have time for this, Mythra.”

“Ookay.” Mythra shrugs. He’s in a bad mood, which is hardly unusual and not something to be particularly concerned about. With that mystery unsolved, she turns back to the crowd.

“Wait.” Jin calls out as she steps away, and the desperation in his voice takes Mythra off guard. “Can you track his ether signature?”

Mythra opens her mouth to ask ‘whose’, but then her eyes narrow. Something is off with him. There’s this almost crazed look on his face, and that is enough to answer her question and replace it with another. “What did you do?”

Jin hesitates. The accusation in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed, but from the way his face twitches, Mythra knows it’s deserved. His next words confirm it. “I messed up.” His hands ball into fists, and he turns his head away. “I handed Malos off to Tantal. It was years ago. I thought he was dead.”

“What?” Mythra blinks. Of all the possible explanations, that had not been on her list. She expected something more along the lines of ‘secret rendezvous dates at midnight’. “You couldn’t have looped me in on this?”

“I don’t need a lecture right now.” He raises a hand in her face when she leans towards him, forcing her to keep some semblance of distance. “She said she could see the future. Everything that happened last time, Torna’s fall included- it was going to happen again. Malos was going to do it.”

“Who?” Mythra asks, keeping her voice flat. 

Jin waves off the question. “I don’t know her name. She was one of yours.”

“One of mine?” 

“I thought she would just kill him, not….” Jin trails off. He takes a step away, running a hand through his hair. It’s strange to see him like this.

With each answer, more questions come. “Does Malos know?” 

“That I gave him up?” Jin lets out a laugh missing any hint of humor. It’s weird to hear from his throat. “Would’ve been hard to miss.” 

“What about that future you were told?” 

“Not unless they said something to him.” Finally, he turns back towards her and meets her gaze. “He escaped, and they’re trying to hunt him down. He ran from me. I don’t know where he is now. I have to find him before they do.”

Thus the original request. It’s easier said than done, but maybe not impossible. 

“Siren can try.” Mythra says after a pause. “We attempted it back during the Aegis war, but it was always grainy.” It was like he was giving them hints, but keeping his actual location hidden. Playing hide and seek, elongating the cat and mouse chasing for as long as he could manage without getting bored. 

With nothing else to lose, Mythra lets her Core glow and reaches towards Siren. 

Jin, however, keeps pacing. The glimmer of hope that Mythra brings doesn’t show on his face. It remains etched with concern and fear. “If he fell into Morytha, those creatures will rip him apart.” 

“Fell?” Mythra asks in a distracted tone.

“He went overboard, just a titanped or two offshore.”

“Hm.” Mythra hums to herself, waiting for Siren’s data to finish loading. “The currents here don’t pull down. There’s a good chance he just got swept away.”

That answer doesn’t seem to appease Jin. “For Tantal to follow.”

“I can see his signature, but it’s weird.” Mythra finally answers, mentally skimming through the virtual map. “It’s all… split up.”

Jin doesn’t seem surprised by the information, but he jumps on it nonetheless. “Where are the other pieces?” 

“The strongest one is coming from Mor Ardain." Mythra answers. Her brow is furrowed as she tries to make sense of the data. “The others aren’t that far off, but Malos shouldn’t be able to do this. It’s one thing to shroud his location. It’s another thing to create fake signals. Even his Gargoyles shouldn’t be able to do this. They’re a different signature entirely.”

“They’re close?” Jin takes an aggressive step towards her, and no matter what words leave his mouth next, Mythra knows he won’t take no for an answer. “You have to take me to him.”

And yet despite Jin’s determination, Mythra’s hands are tied. “We’re waiting for the same boat, dude.”

“You said you have Siren.”

Mythra raises an eyebrow. “You want to cause that much of a scene?”

Jin doesn’t hesitate. “We don’t have a choice.”

Mythra does, but then she sighs, giving in. If she says no, Jin will just hound her the entire long trip back. “Alright, but if you drop Milton, that’s on your head.”

Confusion crosses Jin’s face, and it’s a relief to see something new there. “Milton?”

Mythra half turns back to the crowd, and luck is on her side as she finally spots the boy. Two fingers in her mouth, she lets out a sharp whistle that has his ears immediately perking up. 

Then, she looks back at Jin. “You better hold on tight.”

All in all, Lora’s help wasn’t particularly needed to get the weapons delivered. There hadn’t been any additional attacks on the shipment. Maybe they had been scared off. It’s hard to say. Regardless, the trip had finished without so much of a whisper of trouble. 

Still, it was good to see Hugo again, however brief their meeting may have been. He’s a busy man right now, but he still spared the time to greet her and thank them for their help. Now, there’s nothing to do but head home. 

She still hasn’t received any word from Jin, which isn’t all that strange. He’s probably just waiting in Torna for her return, perhaps a bit miffed that she went on this trip without him.

“I hope he’s alright.” Lora says aloud, resting her chin on her hands. 

The response from Haze is immediate. “I hope he’s dead.” A moment later, Haze blinks, and she catches sight of Lora’s bewildered stare. She pauses, searching for some kind of explanation, but she can’t find one. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

Lora is used to these kinds of outbursts by now, so she just reaches a hand towards her and runs it through Haze’s hair. “I’m sorry for dragging you out here. We’ll go home soon.”

She should’ve known better, really. Changes to their routine, no matter how small, always seem to result in Haze being more restless than usual, and her usual is already rough. But when she gets in a pattern where she doesn’t have to think anymore- that’s the only time she seems to relax. For a while, charm making had been successful in keeping her calm. The pattern is all she needs to remember, and the repetition makes it hard to forget. 

But she’s gotten worse since then. The situation was stable for awhile- for years, but then it suddenly dove off the deep end. Overnight, Haze could barely function anymore, and there was nothing Lora could do to stop it. 

Lora’s eyes fall down to her Core. So many questions still unanswered. What happened? Was it Malos? It could be, but what does he gain from it? What did he gain from any of it, though?

And who else could possibly be responsible?

She had hoped, when coming back to Auresco, that he might be able to give her answers. That hope had been dashed the moment they saw the actual Blade that was captured. 

“I know I’ve asked you this before,” Lora starts, keeping her voice as gentle as she can manage. “but your Core-”

Haze’s hand rushes to cover her crystal. Her fingers twitch over it, and she turns her body away. It’s obvious she wants the conversation to end, but Lora can’t drop it just yet.

“Do you remember anything?”

At first, it seems like Haze is going to ignore the question. Then, her mouth opens. “I…” She pauses, her eyebrows furrowed. “It was cold.”

The answer is vague, and Lora shakes her head in confusion. “Cold?”

“I touched his cheek, and it was cold.”

“Whose?” Malos’s? Who else could she be referring to? 

When Haze doesn’t answer, she reaches out a hand towards her. Haze slaps it away without thought, leaving a stinging red mark across her Driver’s palm. 

“Haze?”

“I’m sorry. I-”

A knock at the door interrupts them. 

“Just a minute.” Lora calls out, but her attempt is fruitless. 

The door swings open, just far enough for Addam to stick his head through. “Sorry, what was that you said?”

Lora glances at Haze, but she’s shut back down, her head tilted towards the ground. Lora sighs. “Never mind.” Then, to Addam. “What’s going on?”

“Our ship is ready.” Addam answers. “I was just coming to get you.”

Relief floods through Lora. Back to Torna. Back to Jin. Back home, where Haze can rest. “Great.”

“Have anything to bring down?”

“Just the clothes on our backs.” Lora pats herself to make sure, resting her palm on the handle of the sword Addam had given her a few days prior. 

“Wonderful.”

Lora grabs hold of Haze's hand, pulling her along as they exit the palace and head into the courtyard. Hugo already left with Bridget and Aegaeon to go to a nearby village earlier in the day, so there’s no one to send them off. 

Right as they nearly reach the ship, Addam squints at a small group of soldiers, talking just barely loud enough for him to overhear. The bits and pieces he manages to grasp fully grabs his attention, and he’s walking towards them before the thought truly comes. 

The soldiers stiffen as soon as they notice him, giving a respectful nod after a moment of pause. “Prince Addam.”

Addam places his hands on his hips, keeping the tone light. “What’s the problem here, boys?”

They hesitate, looking between each other, but the soldier closest to Addam makes up his mind quickly enough. “I spotted a Blade on the outskirts.” Another pause. “With an Amethyst Core.”

Lora crosses her arms, stepping closer to join the conversation. “Not the first time we’ve heard that.”

“Our missing Blade, perhaps.” Addam holds his chin in his hand, thinking. And then he glances at Haze, unsure. 

Lora follows his train of thought, and then, after considering the sword on her waist, turns to Haze. “Why don’t you wait on the ship? We’ll be there soon.”

Haze doesn’t ask any questions. Instead, she just silently nods and turns away. 

Addam waits until she’s made it inside to continue. “It’ll be risky without Jin.”

“Well, you gave me this for a reason.” Lora pats the hanging weapon. “We can at least confirm what they saw for Hugo.”

“Wise.” Addam nods, and then he turns back to the soldier. “Where did you see the Blade?”

“The coast by the East.” He points in the vague direction, past the gates and into the desert. “He was headed North, along the shore.”

He. So not the Blade from before. Perhaps this is some greater phenomenon than they first realized. 

“Thank you, we’ll take care of this.” Addam nods, and the soldier lets out an audible sigh of relief. It’s no wonder, really. With the stories that still circle of Malos’s calamity, anyone would be terrified to face him. 

With that said, Addam heads towards the gaze, quickly followed by Lora. 

“May I ask?” Addam broaches the silence once they’re out of the city. “Haze…”

Lora shakes her head before Addam can even finish his sentence, not that he knew how to finish it regardless. “I don’t know.”

“She hasn’t gotten any better?”

“No.”

Lora’s short answer seems to be the end of it, but Addam hates the idea of leaving it so open. After all, if Malos was involved, it was his fault for dragging them into it to begin with. He had been far more concerned about Lora being injured, but she had the Paragon to protect her. Haze had been the last one on his mind. Blades heal- but not always, it would seem.

“Perhaps Mythra could take another look at her Core?”

“She didn’t find anything the first time.” Lora replies, almost bitterly, before correcting herself. “That would be helpful. Thank you.”

Mythra had seemed hesitant to even touch her Core the first time around. Lora always had a feeling she was hiding something about it, but she was never able to confirm it- and Jin has been happy to brush it off and keep moving forward, as if Haze wasn’t falling apart in front of them. It was oddly cruel of Jin, but maybe the very sight of it is unsettling to Blades. How would she feel if she saw a human walking about with half a skull?

They keep up a quick pace for the rest of the journey. The shore isn’t far from Alba Cavanich, but it’s already late in the day, and the sun is setting. 

They spot the Blade in question- the slight glow of his Core giving him away as he zigzags through the desert. It’s too dark to make out his features from this far away, so Lora points to the other side of the path. Addam takes the cue, sneaking around to the other side while Lora remains adjacent, creeping forward towards the Blade.

Once close enough to his path, they make themselves known, appearing on either side of him. The Blade jerks his head towards Lora at the noise, and then Addam. He takes a step back, looking as if he might run, but too cornered to do so. 

For a moment, Lora feels bad for the ambush. Clearly the Blade is frightened. Perhaps they should have just called out and waved them over instead of assuming the worst. 

And then, the light reflects off the moon and shines onto his face, and she recognizes him. 

They should have waited for Jin. 

“You’re… Malos.” Addam is just as shocked as her, his eyes wide and confused.

Malos, out in the middle of Mor Ardain, walking aimlessly through the desert. No Artifices in sight. No annihilated villages. Just a single Blade, walking alone in the dark after being missing for years. 

On the same Titan Haze just happens to be on.

“What did you do with her Core?” Lora asks before she can stop herself. She grabs the sword at her waist and levies it at the Aegis. “Was that you?”

“Lora-”

“Haze’s Core. Was it you?” 

It’s hard to see his face or read his expression, shadowed in darkness. Lora knows she should be scared of him, but right now she can’t bring herself to be- may her Blades forgive her for that. 

But instead of striking her down, he looks just as confused as them. “I… don’t know.” 

It’s the last answer she expected, and it’s Addam who all but reads her thoughts. “You don’t know?”

“I…” Malos looks between them before settling on Lora. He’s squinting at her, like he’s searching her face just as much as she is him. Then, he must find what he’s looking for. His entire body changes, going stiff as his face drops into an emotion she doesn’t recognize- certainly not on him. He raises a metal, hand-sized almost-gun at Lora, and takes a shaky step back. 

It’s Lora’s turn to go still. Finally, the fear starts to set in. 

“There’s no need for that.” Addam says as calmly as he can manage, and Malos whips around, as if he had forgotten Addam was even there. “Lower your weapon, and come with us. No blood needs to be shed here.”

“You never shed blood.” Malos murmurs, barely audible to their ears. “I don’t bleed for you. I don’t have to.”

Addam and Lora trade looks. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. You don’t care. You never care.” His hands are shaking. Fingers twitching. “I won’t go back. You can’t make me.” His free hand comes up in an attempt to hold the other one steady. “I’ll kill you first. I’ll kill both of you.”

Malos whips back around towards Lora, the end of the gun pointed at her face.

“I won’t go back.” He says more firmly this time. And he fires. Lora raises up her sword, not expecting it to matter, but the Core glows bright, and a shield raises to protect her. Lora seems more shocked by that than anyone else on the field, and Malos continues in stride, firing again and again. Each blow knocks Lora back a step, the shield cracking. 

Addam runs forward, his own sword glowing blue, and slashes Malos across the back. Malos jerks away, and pushes Addam to the ground with his bare hands.

He’s slower than usual- nothing like the fight in Torna. And the gun is certainly a change in weaponry, but Lora can’t waste time thinking about it too much. Maybe his retreat from Torna wasn’t as benevolent as they thought. Maybe he was weakened somehow and had no choice. 

Lora tries to catch her sword against Malos’s gun, to knock it from his grasp, but even as the blade cut against his hand, he keeps his grip. He kicks Lora to the ground, and fires at her once more. The sword shines blue and shields again. Each time, the color gets a bit dimmer. 

With her free hand, Lora grabs for her whip, wrapping it around Malos’s ankle and yanking at it as hard as she can manage. He’s too heavy to knock over, but he does stumble, giving Lora the opportunity to roll away and hop back to her feet. 

Malos doesn’t stop though, firing over and over. She shields each hit, and then, she doesn’t. The light dims entirely and the shield breaks. Addam’s next hit against Malos is the only thing that prevents the following shot from being fatal, instead hitting her shoulder. She falls to the ground regardless, letting out a cry from the searing pain that travels down her arm.

“Lora!” Addam rushes past Malos, stationing himself in front of her. 

Lora clenches her teeth and fights through the pain. She tries to raise the shield again, but the sword doesn’t respond. Instead, the light throughout the sword flickers, going between a dull glow and darkness. 

Then, Malos looks up, and Addam quickly follows his gaze. He expects to see Malos’s Siren, but he’s only half right. Mythra’s Siren flutters in the sky above them, and Jin is standing on one of its feet, clinging to the leg. On closer inspection, he sees Jin’s other arm wrapped around Milton, keeping him from sliding off. 

Jin hops off before Siren hits the ground, pulling Milton down with him. At first, Jin runs towards Malos, but his attention is quickly taken by his Driver, still sitting on the ground, blood gushing from her singed wound. 

Jin drops down next to her, head whipping all around- searching for Haze. But she’s nowhere in sight, so he does what he can, putting a thin layer of frost across the burn. Lora lets out another cry through her teeth, but she still doesn’t give up her attempts to bring the weapon back to life. 

Then, finally, she gets a reaction. The compartment holding the Blade’s Core opens, and a dull, lifeless crystal falls out. Dead.

Lora reaches for it slowly with her uninjured arm, bringing it close to her face. She looks to Addam, expecting to see the same surprise as her, but instead, she sees shame. 

Finally assured that his Driver isn’t in imminent peril, Jin stands. He takes a step towards Malos, but the other Blade immediately raises his cannon, pointing it directly at Jin’s Core. 

“Malos-”

“No.” Malos says, the shake still clear in his voice. He adjusts his grip on the weapon, and despite the tremor, he seems more sure this time. “Not this time.”

Mythra finally steps out of her Artifice, landing in the sand in front of the rest of them, blocking Jin from Malos’s path. “Get them out of here.”

Jin shakes his head, but he looks back at Lora nonetheless. He’ll kill her. Regardless of whether or not Malos is truly willing to shoot him, he will kill Lora. 

Even with that in mind, he wavers. “I can’t-”

“Go.” Mythra says, keeping her voice still. “Do your job.”

Jin still doesn’t move, but she turns her gaze to Malos regardless. Something changes in him as he looks at her. Any hesitation left leaves his body. His lip twitches, and he fires his weapon. Mythra’s ready for it, and she throws up her shield, far superior to that of the Core Lora had been using. Malos notices this and readjusts, sending stronger and stronger bolts of purple energy directly at her chest. 

It doesn’t matter. Each blow halts her for just a moment, but every second Malos spends recharging is another step forward for her. 

Blast after blast after blast. Each one more powerful than the last, and the duller the glow of the cannon becomes. 

Finally, when Mythra is only a few steps away, it goes dark. She doesn’t hesitate, closing the distance between them and sending him flying backwards to the ground. The cannon, now powerless, flies from his hand. Without any means of defending himself, he musters what he can of his ether into his palms, letting out a muffled, guttural moan as he does so. Despite his efforts, they are nothing compared to his partner, and she is above him, stabbing her sword into his chest- straight through his Core. 

She expects silence then. Death. She has slain him. Killed him. Again. Maybe he’ll say a few more last words, and she’ll listen to them just like she did last time. She gave him another chance, and again, he tried to kill and maim. This will be the end of him.

But instead, he continues to breathe loud, heavy gasps.

Finally, she looks down at his Core. She hasn’t impaled it, because there’s not enough left to impale. The edges remain intact, but the center is nothing but emptiness and jagged, sharp remains. 

“Just do it.” Malos says, barely audible. He closes his eyes, his face impossible to read. “I remember you. I remember how we ended it. Do it again. Make it last this time.” 

He hadn’t been able to remember before, back with Errol, if he wanted to die. He remembers now. 

But Mythra hesitates. Malos isn’t sure why, but she hesitates. He forces his eyes back open and meets her gaze. He can’t read her either, and that’s a first for them. They’ve always understood each other. 

Then, Malos looks past her- past Jin and his Driver. Past all of them, into the distance. He sees a hint of glowing purple. Then another. And another. 

His breath quickens at the realization. She’s not going to kill him. They never kill him. They’ll never stop. 

He’s not going back. 

Making up his mind, Malos shoots his arm up and wraps his fingers around Mythra’s Core. He reaches in as far as he can, as quickly as he can, taking advantage of her surprise to wrap himself around Siren. 

“Mythra!” 

He activates the primary particle cannon and fires it directly at himself. 

Chapter Text

She hears before she sees. The sharp, ringing noise that muffles even her own thoughts is hard to ignore, and it makes her hesitate to open her eyes. Whatever caused the pain in her head can’t be much fun to look at either. 

But then she groans, the sore ache across her body becoming more and more obvious with each passing second. Then, she can’t ignore it any longer. 

Lora opens her eyes to the dark sky above her. It isn’t all dark, though, she discovered. Tilting her head up, she can see a pit of fire and glass. When she tries to sit up, her body fails her, and she falls back to the ground. When Lora tilts her head to the side, she finds Addam lying next to her. There’s a gash across his forehead, dripping blood onto the ground beneath him. 

As the memories come back, she’s left with more questions. She and Addam are both farther away from the flames than she remembers being when Siren fired upon them. There’s a clear trail in the sand in front of them, where her and Addam’s bodies must have dragged farther away. 

She tries again to sit up, letting out a sharp cry and grabbing her injured shoulder. Her fingers hit leaves instead of skin- a makeshift bandage, like Jin used to make for her when she scraped her knee and they couldn’t afford the medicine to prevent infection. 

Jin.

From her prone position, she looks around again, trying to catch sight of anyone aside from Addam. No matter how hard she looks, she can’t find anyone. No Jin. No Milton. No Mythra. The only part of the field truly out of sight is the pit created by the Artifice’s attack. 

Mythra might be in there. She might be dead, along with Malos. Milton had run towards her. Was he caught in the blast? Are they gone? Did Jin-

Lora’s hands curl shut, but her right one doesn’t quite make it. Instead, her palm grabs around something else. A handle. 

It isn’t the sword Addam had given her. Instead, it’s Jin’s blade, left carefully in her grasp. He’s alive. She can feel him. He’s alive. 

Where is he?

“Jin?” Lora tries for a third time to sit up, this time using the sword to prop her. She digs the sharp end into the ground and pushes against it. She still doesn’t have much of a view into the pit, so she calls out instead. “Jin!” 

Then, in the distance, she hears the clatter of armor and feet hitting the ground. She turns towards it, and the familiar sight of Ardainian troops rush towards them. 

She tries to hold on for longer, but the relief rids her of whatever adrenaline had been pumping through her. Black dots fill her eyes, and she falls back onto the ground.

He hadn’t meant to let the pressure build up like this, but now the tank is cracked, and there’s no choice left but to replace it. Fortunately, there are some unused pipes down on the lower levels meant for additional crew that he can pull from. 

He’s halfway to the stairs when he hears the sound of clanging metal from the front of the ship. Mikhail freezes in place, not sure exactly what to do. Hide? Fight? If it’s Torna, or more likely, Mor Ardain, there’s not much to do beyond finding a good spot and hoping they don’t see him. If it’s bandits, though…

Mikhail looks down at his hands, and he lets himself consider the idea of calling for them before shaking his head and grabbing a forgotten wrench instead.

He steps carefully towards the sound, trying to stay as quiet as possible. As he gets closer, he raises up the wrench into a batting position, ready to swing should the need arise. Finally, he enters the main docking station, and he pauses.

A Blade cloaked in black armor crawls across the floor. He’s missing an arm and is covered in holes, each etched in a glowing, purple outline. He drags himself further into the ship by his remaining limbs until his strength fades completely, and he goes limp.

Mikhail can say with certainty that he has never met this man. He knows this for a fact. He hasn’t met many Blades in his life, and he would remember this one. 

But despite that, he can’t help how familiar he seems. 

The Blade doesn’t notice him at first, but then his head slowly turns his way. His eyes are an empty, dull gray. Then, something flashes in them, and Mikhail isn’t sure what it is.

“Hey, kid.” The Blade forces out, his throat sounding dry and raw. There’s blood on his lips that only seems to support that. “Long time no see.”

Suddenly, Mikhail’s confidence at his previous assertion starts to waver. “Do I know you?”

He pauses to think, as if he isn’t sure himself. His eyes crinkle at the edges, and he stares at the ceiling. “Pretty sure.”

Then, a name comes to his mind, and it seems so obvious. “You’re Malos.”

“That’s me.” Malos tilts his head back towards Mikhail. “What’s your name?”

“I thought you knew me.”

“I’m forgetful.”

Mikhail hesitates. This is the Aegis, after all. A Blade that sank Titans to the Cloud Sea floor. The Master Blade, bent on the destruction of the human race. He should be terrified, but instead, he finds himself calm. Too calm, maybe. “Mikhail.”

“Mik.” Malos says instead, and a loose smile takes over his lips. He looks at his surroundings, taking in each detail. “Did you steal this thing?”

Mikhail crosses his arms, becoming a tad defensive. “It was decommissioned.”

“So you stole it, they just didn’t care.” Malos says, ignoring Mikhail’s protest. “Parked it all the way by Mor Ardain. What’s it called?”

The name would be scrawled across one of the manuals, but he’s never looked at them. He never needed to. “The Marsanes.”

“The Marsanes.” Malos repeats, that blissful look returning. And then, it starts to fade. He keeps his eyes fixed forward as the smile turns and disappears. “I don’t remember how we left off. If you’re one of the ones who want me dead, go ahead.” 

The thought pulls at his chest, but it seems logical as well. Why wouldn’t Mikhail want him dead? Everyone does. “I don’t remember either.”

Malos accepts the answer with a nod, and then his eyes narrow. He stays silent for a long moment, watching him. “I thought you were human.”

“I am.” Mikhail says more harshly than he intended, and his jaw clamps shut. 

Malos pauses again, still staring, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. You’re not.”

If it were anyone else, Mikhail would continue to deny it, pushing back over and over until they give up or he runs away. Again. 

But for Malos- and for reasons Mikhail can’t explain- he reaches towards his shirt, pulling at the buttons at the top until his chest is visible. There, he’s forced to look at the Core embedded in his skin- the one that appeared without warning and brought the nightmares with it. 

But Malos doesn’t look disgusted or horrified or any of the other ways Mik had expected people to feel. Instead, his face is unchanged. “Why do you hide it?”

The question makes him scoff. “I’m a human with a Core Crystal.” A freak of nature. Some kind of mutation. “What else was I supposed to do?”

He had been just a kid when he turned into this thing. At first, he had tried to rip it out, peeling his skin away with his fingertips while the others had slept- sneaking off to the river to wash away the blood before anyone noticed. When that didn’t work, he had turned to hiding it, ensuring no one ever saw him without his shirt- wearing multiple layers even in the hottest weather so the light wouldn’t shine through. 

But he couldn’t keep it up forever. As he got older, and the ether started leaking from his hands- when the glowing weapons manifested in his sleep…

He had run. 

Whatever he is now, it isn’t human or Blade. It’s something else entirely, and it’s terrifying.

Malos forces himself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall of the ship. He groans at the movement, his wounds aching. It’s then that Mikhail finally spots his Core. The center is missing, and the edges are cracked and broken like a shattered mirror. Shifting his body is enough for one loose piece to fall out and bounce onto the ground. Malos doesn’t seem to care, if he notices it at all.

“You’re hurt.”

“How perceptive of you.” It takes Mikhail a moment to realize that Malos is making a joke. The lighthearted tone doesn’t last as his eyes clamp shup. He curls in on himself, letting out a soft moan of pain. “Any other Blade gets their Core so much as cracked, and they’re done for, but me? World doesn’t seem willing to give me up just yet.”

“What happened?” Mikhail asks. 

“Oh, you know.” Malos waves a hand through the air. “The usual.” He leans back, letting out a thin stream of air through his clenched teeth. “I think I remember now. Enough, at least, to piece it all together. I still wonder, was any of it real? Back then. I mean- it was never the same between us. I never expected it to be the same. The way I felt, he would never… but I thought there was at least something.”

Mikhail doesn’t need to ask, but he does anyway. “Jin?”

Malos peels one eye open. “So you do remember.”

“I don’t. I just-”

“Your Core remembers.” Malos isn’t making any sense, but at the same time, Mikhail understands. “It still has that data, even if you can’t reach it. It’s like when a Blade returns to their crystal, but keeps the skills they learned or recognizes the house they lived in.”

Malos presses his hand against the ground, pushes his back into the wall and he struggles to rise to his feet. He doesn’t last long, falling back to his knees.

Mikhail rushes forward without thought, grabbing his still remaining arm to steady him. “Where are you going?”

Malos’s heavy breaths is all he can hear for several seconds, before he can finally get the words out. “They’ll be looking for me.” Then, he turns towards him. “Sorry for intruding. I saw the ship and couldn’t resist. I just wanted to see it one more time.” 

“You could stay.” Mikhail says before he can stop himself. He shouldn’t- he knows he shouldn’t- but the idea of Malos being here, in this place with him, feels too right to ignore.

But Malos just shakes his head. “If Jin sees the Marsanes, he’ll know I’m here.” He clings to Mikhail, using him to pull himself to his feet again. He stumbles forward, nearly losing balance before he manages to make it to the next wall.

“Malos-”

Malos half turns towards him, giving him a slight, exhausted nod. “See you round, kid.”

Then, before Mikhail can say anything else, he hobbles down the hall and out of sight. 

The last time Mythra opened her eyes after facing Explosion-Via-Artifice, she had woken up on a sunken Titan, rooming with two of the long dead that still haunt her memories. 

This time, Mythra wonders, who will she wake up to next?

“Heya! Long time no see.”

That voice. Mythra opens her eyes, and she ignores her surroundings entirely, searching all around until she finds the person in question. “Pandoria?”

“The one and only.” Pandoria replies with a usual dramatic pose. Mythra always assumed she got the theatrics from Zeke, but maybe it was the other way around. 

But there’s a more important question to ask. “You… remember me?”

“Of course. How could I forget our resident Aegis.” Pandoria grabs Mythra’s arm as she tries to lean up, pulling until she’s sitting on the bed. “I take it it's just you this time around. No Pyra?”

“Just me.” Mythra nods, and finally, she starts looking around. The walls surrounding her are made of large, dark stones, and there’s a deep chill that runs through the air. The room is otherwise empty besides the two of them, but there are a handful of unoccupied beds pushed into different corners. “Where am I?”

“Theosoir.” Pandoria answers quickly, placing her hands on her hips. “Or what will be Theosoir eventually, once this place gets a few humans in it. Who knows? Maybe they'll call it something else this time.” She smiles to herself. “You were in pretty rough shape, so we brought you with us to make sure you were okay.”

Tantal. 

The realization hits slowly. “So you're the one Jin mentioned.” 

“Probably.” Pandoria says with a shrug. “We’ve had a… bit of a thing, these last few years.”

“But, he said you showed him the future. You don't have that power.”

“I didn't before, and it won't last forever. Once we catch up, it'll all go back to normal, I suppose.” 

Mythra doesn’t need to speak for Pandoria to understand her confusion, so she circles her hands around her Core to bring Mythra’s attention to it. It doesn’t look all that dissimilar to the last time she saw it, minus the chunk of purple added to the center. Most importantly, the missing triangle remains exactly that- missing. 

“When I woke up in the past, my Core stayed the same.” Pandoria explains. “The part that was given to my Prince didn’t come back.”

Mythra nods, unsurprised. “Same thing happened to Haze.” 

Fortunately, at least for Pandoria, she doesn’t seem to have been affected in the same way. Even back then, Haze had lost so much of her identity- even her own name. Whatever Amalthus did to her, he left so little left of her own data that the reset didn’t know how to reconstruct her. That’s Mythra’s theory.

“But it's not gone.” Pandoria continues. “He still has it.”

“Zeke?” Mythra furrows her brow. “He's not even alive.”

“Not yet, but he will be one day.” Pandoria points out, sure of this fact. “In the future.”

“You can't guarantee that.”

“Sure I can.” She says in a cheery voice. Whatever conclusion she’s come to, Mythra is certain Pandoria fully believes it. “My Core is still bonded to him. I can feel it.”

It takes Mythra a moment to realize the implications. “You're being fed data from the future?”

“Something like that.” Pandoria confirms. “If my Prince sees it, I see it.”

It seems infeasible, but if it is somehow possible for a Core to remain in sync despite existing in different times, these so-called visions could be more accurate than she had first thought when Jin mentioned it. “What do you see?”

Pandoria’s mood visibility dims, and her shoulders fall. “The same as before.” She turns away from Mythra, her head ducking low. “Torna sinks. Tantal and its people are forced under the Cloud Sea by Amalthus, where they starve while Genbu freezes.” She shakes her head, clenching her fists. “I had to do something to stop it.”

“Malos’s Core…”

“When we realized that Jin remembered, like properly remembered, there had to be a reason for it.” She circles back around, looking both proud and dismayed. “We thought maybe we could replicate it, and it worked.”

“But what’s the point? Just… nostalgia?” She’s never imagined it from the perspective of another Blade before. If anything, the memories are constant reminders of what she lost and may never regain, but sometimes they’re more than that. Sometimes it feels like it’s all she has. If she had only echoes but no way to truly grasp them, maybe she’d want to regain them as well. 

“At first it was to make sure there weren’t any other threats we needed to keep watch of.” Pandoria says. “While I could see the future, I couldn’t really remember much else. I tried to piece together what I kept seeing from Zeke and with the dreams I had. There’s Jin, of course, but so long as his Driver’s still around, he isn’t much of a threat. And you’ve been keeping an eye on Amalthus.” She nods at her, and Mythra is surprised. She never knew she was being watched. “Once we remembered, though, we realized that we couldn’t kill him, not without risking… starting over again.”

And then Mythra understands. “You mean the reset?”

“Do you know what happened?” Pandoria asks, curling her arms around herself in a self-hug.

Mythra sighs. “I think so.” It took her a while to piece it together, but it’s all she can make sense of. “Alrest- it was created by me and Malos, a long time ago. We are what anchors this world in place. We keep it in motion. When Malos died, I took on that burden fully, but then…”

The world couldn’t continue. Whether it was the Conduit, a subconscious act from the Pneuma and Logos Cores, or something else entirely, it reset the world to its most recent, stable point- right before she shattered Malos’s Core for the first time. 

“That was our guess, too. Or, something close at least.” Pandoria takes the confirmation in stride. “If we killed Malos, the world wouldn’t die off immediately, but one wrong step from you and we’d have to start over again.”

That at least makes sense, but then Mythra’s eyes go back to Pandoria’s Core. The purple shard glows brighter than the rest, and it reminds her only of just how dim Malos’s own crystal had become. “You tortured him.”

“I didn’t want to.” Pandoria says, without denying the accusation. “We didn’t enjoy it, or anything. We tried to keep it quick, but we needed his Core. We needed to keep him alive but powerless. I needed Blades who understood why we were doing what we were doing- and what was at stake if we failed.” If Mythra squints, she can see the guilt that has flooded Pandoria’s eyes. “We tried to leave him alone as much as we could, only taking what we needed.”

Yet despite that, Malos suffered. They tore him apart, and even then, he still escaped. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Honestly?” Pandoria asks, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “I thought you might try to stop us. And… I thought you deserved a break, after everything that happened last time.”

A break would have been nice, but Aegises rarely get those. 

“I need you to let me take care of Malos.” Mythra says. “I’ll keep him alive, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t follow the same path as before. Not that he could manage it in his current state anyway.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Pandoria interrupts. “Even with his Core like that, I can still see it. That’s still the way the future goes.” She shakes her head. “I thought, if we just kept taking pieces, that it might eventually change, but it didn’t.” 

“I’ll handle it.” Mythra says, placing a hand on Pandoria’s shoulder. “Okay?”

She hesitates, and then finally, nods. “Alright. I trust you.”

Mythra rises to feet, but she doesn’t stay there for long. The sudden, sharp pain comes from nowhere, striking all throughout her body, and she collapses to her hands and knees. 

“Mythra!” Pandoria calls out. “Easy there!”

She reaches towards her Core with shaking hands, feeling the spider-web of cracks all throughout the crystal. She had almost forgotten how she ended up here. The pain doubles down again, and she lets out a muffled cry, pressing her head against the floor. 

She can feel herself flickering- her skin, her hair, her armor, every cell of her body. She forces it down with all of her strength, resisting the urge to give into it. She can’t. Not now. 

Mythra isn’t sure how long she stays like that, curled against the stone floor, but finally, it begins to fade.

“Mythra?” Pandoria’s voice pulls her back to herself. When Mythra starts to relax, she helps her back into a sitting position.

 “My Core…” Mythra breathes out, waiting for the lingering pain to dissipate. 

“It’s cracked.” Pandoria finishes for her. “We tried what we could, but healing a Core Crystal is easier said than done.” She pauses, eyeing Mythra carefully. “Are you gonna be okay? Your hair… it was…”

“The damage is making it hard for me to hold this form.”

“This form? You mean-” Pandoria’s eyes widen. “But Malos’s Core is much worse, and he didn’t change.”

“Malos’s Core doesn’t have the data for another form. He’d have to create one, which is more than what he’s capable of right now.” Mythra grunts as she readjusts her position. “I still have Pyra’s data.”

Her form, as it exists now, requires her to generate a certain amount of ether. Other Blades are no different, but when that amount of ether isn’t met, they simply die. Malos is sturdier than that, but it makes him run far less efficiently. Healing is slowed. Powers are gone. He becomes all but human.

But her Core already has a solution for that. Pyra doesn’t need as much ether. She doesn’t need the damaged data. She is Mythra, condensed into a viable, low power solution. 

But she can’t. She can’t just disappear- not right now. They need her. Addam, Milton-

“Mythra!”

“Milton.” Mythra says, and her eyes lock onto Pandoria’s. “Where’s Milton?”

Without saying another word, Pandoria reaches out her hand and helps Mythra to her feet. She leads her out of the room and into another. The decorum isn’t all that different, but she barely notices it at all. Instead, she rushes towards the bed directly in front of her. 

“He got hit by the blast. Not directly, but enough.” Pandoria says as Mythra drops down to her knees next to him. “We’re taking care of him as well as we can. He should be fine.”

Relief floods her, but it’s not enough. His chest is wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, and his face is swollen and bruised. “You’re not a healing Blade.”

“No, and we don’t have any.” Pandoria admits. “But we do have… someone.”

As if on cue, an Indoline man Mythra doesn’t recognize steps into sight. She watches him hesitantly, but he merely nods towards her. 

“This is Stannif.” Pandoria explains, waving an arm towards him. “We did some digging around Indol, back when we first took Malos captive. We needed someone to teach us how to absorb his Core.”

Mythra blinks. “You’re working with Indol?”

“Not exactly.” The tone of her voice has Mythra turning back towards the man. On closer inspection, she spots the chains around his wrist. “Given everything we found out, we thought it was for the best to separate him from Amalthus. I doubt he’ll be able to figure out the Blade Eater thing without him- at least not for a long while.”

Stannif. She remembers the name now, from Minoth’s story.

“You must be the Aegis.” Stannif greets, and despite the plain words, his voice makes her skin crawl. “I have heard so much about you.”

She whips towards Pandoria. “You let him touch Milton?”

“He’s the only one we have that could help. He’s not a doctor, but he knows his way around a body.” She shrugs. “It was either that or leave him to die in Mor Ardain.”

Mythra looks back at Milton, and she has to keep reminding herself that he’s still breathing. He isn’t the corpse she saw back on the Ardainian ship, cradled in Mikhail’s arms. He’s alive. He’ll stay alive. 

“There is no need to worry.” Stannif says, sensing her concern. “He is a strong boy.”

“Don’t tell me what to worry about.” Mythra snaps, and then her shoulders fall as the anger leaves her. “When will he be well enough to leave?”

“I imagine within a few days, his strength will be returned.”

Mythra hesitates, and then she sighs. “Fine.” She agrees. “We stay until then."

Lora’s hands curl into the window sill, nails digging into the wood. Haze doesn’t say anything- hasn’t said a word since Lora’s return. Instead, she sits on the bed and watches her Driver with a silent, careful gaze. 

When Lora hears the door squeak open, she doesn’t acknowledge it. 

Addam pokes his head in the room, clearing his voice. When Lora doesn’t respond, he grimaces and steps in fully, shutting the door behind him. “So we’ve confirmed that it was Jin who alerted the guards to our location. He must have woken up before us.”

Lora wraps her hand around the handle of Jin’s sword, safely within reach at her waist. “And where is he now?”

“We don’t know for sure.” He says slowly. “I have received word that a Blade fitting his description was sighted in Torna, but reports like that have hardly been accurate as of recently. Still, it’s probably worth a-”

Lora turns around, and she stretches her arm out in front of her, revealing the dull, dead Core in her hand. “You put this Blade in my sword.”

Addam hesitates, and then he nods. “Yes.”

“And now they’re dead.” Lora narrows her eyes. “Did you know that would happen?”

And again, Addam averts his gaze. She never would have thought him a coward until this very moment. “I have heard… rumor… of Cores that were overused and…”

“You knew I would kill this Blade if I used that sword.”

“I didn’t know, but I-”

“Stop.” Lora cuts him off, all but shaking in rage. “How could you do that? How could Torna do that? How many Blades have been killed by these weapons? The war hasn’t even started yet!”

Addam closes his eyes, letting her finish before attempting to speak further. “I am sorry. I should have told you the risks.”

The risks. For who? For her? For the Blade without a name who never even had a choice in the matter? “You can have your sword back. I’m not interested in it.”

“While Jin is still missing, it would be wise to-”

“I’m not going to kill another Blade to protect myself.” Lora snaps, and then she scoffs, barely hiding the disgust in her voice. “No wonder Malos wants us dead when we treat his kind like this.”

That comment is enough for Addam to push back. “I hardly think-”

“I don’t care what you think!” Lora’s anger fades into something else. Sadness. Disappointment. “I trusted you, Addam. I thought you stood for something. Maybe you didn’t make the weapons, but you certainly didn’t protest their use.”

He nods, this time accepting the criticism. “It was a mistake.”

Lora is glad, at least, to hear him admit it, but it’s too late for that. It’s too late for this Blade. “We’re going back to Torna.” 

“I understand.”

She lets out a breath, straightening up and finally meeting Addam’s eyes again. “I hope you find Mythra and Milton well, but don’t call upon us again.”

Addam opens his mouth to say something, but then, he stops. With her answer final, Addam steps back towards the door and makes his leave. Lora’s shoulders fall the moment he’s out of sight. She makes her way over to the bed next to Haze, resting her hand on top of Haze’s.

“Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

Lora’s grip on the sword’s handle is too tight for comfort, with the edges digging into her palm, leaving red indents that will not fade for some time. She doesn’t notice the pain, however, instead simply holding it out in front of her, walking through the Tornan trees and to wherever it leads. 

It’s always so much easier the other way around. Jin has always been able to feel her resonance, tracking her down with ease no matter how far she had wandered. Even separated, they were always close- always connected. But now, with Lora’s other hand clasped around the Core embedded in the sword, she struggles to feel out his direction. 

The sword helps. She'd be hopeless without it. It’s an extension of his body, no different from his own flesh. A tether to follow. A loose, thin tether, but a tether nonetheless. 

None of it makes sense. Not one ounce of it. Why Malos had appeared so suddenly and behaved so strangely, why Jin had disappeared- and not just Jin, but Mythra and Milton as well. She’d assume foul play if Jin had not so clearly left his sword behind for her. Did he plan for her to track him down, or had he merely wanted to give her a way to protect herself? If the former, why not just wait until she awakened?

She still did not know why Jin had left to begin with, before appearing out of nowhere with Mythra. Had he gone to find her amidst the Malos rumor? Why keep it a secret? Why keep it from her?

Frustration overwhelms her, and without thinking, Lora flings the sword ahead of them where it lands in a pile of dead leaves and dirt. 

“Sorry.” Lora mumbles, jogging ahead to take hold of the sword once more. She glances back at Haze to give an explanation, but the Blade has barely taken notice, her eyes glazed over.

It’s too much. It’s just too much. 

The sword falls again, this time landing on the grass next to her. Lora soon follows, dropping to her knees. She stares down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. She wonders if she’s ever felt so helpless before. Maybe with Gort, as he hovered above her, but since then? 

“I’m sorry, Haze.” Lora says, the words leaving her mouth before she even realizes. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to fix you.”

It seems harsh the moment she says it. Haze doesn’t need fixing. She’s not a busted engine or a fraying charm. She’s Haze. Her Blade. Her friend. She’s not broken. 

But finally, Lora looks up- looks at the mutilated Core in her chest- and she doubts that thought. 

It’s a surprise when Haze begins walking towards her, and even more of a surprise when she too settles on the ground. At first, they sit in silence, and then, Lora reaches forward, resting her hands atop Haze’s. 

“Earlier, back in Alba Cavinch, you said something about… cold. You said he felt cold.” Lora almost regrets bringing it up again with the way Haze immediately pulls back, but she can’t help but dig a little further. “Were you talking about Malos?”

Haze pauses, and then she shakes her head. “No. It wasn’t Malos.”

“Then who?” Lora’s grip on Haze’s hands tightens. “Who did this to you, Haze?”

Haze looks down, and then, after a moment, she looks up again, and for the first time in seventeen years, it feels like she’s actually looking at her- actually seeing her. “Every time you say that name, it makes me want to scream.”

Lora’s brow furrows. “What name?”

“The one you call me.” Haze clarifies. “The one you always call me.”

“But, that’s your name.” Lora says, only growing more confused. “That’s the one you told me when you awakened. It’s what I’ve called you all my life. Why is it wrong now?”

“I don’t think that was me.” Haze says, her voice unsure. “I have… memories of you, but they aren’t my memories. They’re someone else’s. Someone who died.” Her previous hesitance fades, and with each word she speaks, she only becomes more firm. “She died when you died, and then I was born. And I died, too.” Haze’s face crinkles, and barely concealed distress begins to take over it. “Why am I still here?”

“You’re not dead.” Lora releases Haze’s wrists to grab her face instead, pressing her palms against her cheeks. “You’re right here, with me, and I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again. Do you understand?”

But Haze just stares, and the emotion that had previously developed fades. She raises one hand, letting it rest on top of Lora’s. “You can’t save me. You’re dead too.”

“Haze-”

“I don’t know what any of this means.” Haze interrupts, her gaze still fixed on Lora’s. “I don’t know how to make sense of the thoughts in my head, or how to make them go away. That is just what I’ve been able to piece together.” And finally, she looks away, her head dipping towards the ground. “I’m scared.”

Lora doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Haze, pulling her in close. “I’ve got you. I promise. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. You and me. We’ll get through it.”

Haze is still at first, but Lora can’t bear to let go, even if it’s just for her own sake. This brief window into Haze’s thoughts, when the past seven years have been so blurry, is more than she could have ever hoped for. The words themselves make little sense, but it’s a start. They can build from this. They can fix it. 

Slowly, Haze’s own arms wrap around her, hands bunching up her shirt within her fingers. Lora wants to sob in relief, but she holds it back in her throat. Instead, she opens her eyes, taking in what’s in front of her for only a split second before kicking back against the dirt and throwing them both to the side. 

Lora rolls off of Haze, head shooting up to get a better look at the creature in front of her. It’s not like any monster she’s ever seen. It doesn’t stay still for long, throwing itself towards her again. This time, Lora reaches for Jin’s sword, barely being in range to wrap her fingers around the tip of the hilt, and holds it in front of her. 

The creature slides to a halt just shy of impaling itself. It sniffs the metal of the sword, its eyes roaming all across it, and then Lora. Then, it laughs. 

The sound throws Lora off, more than she always was. It’s a low, guttural sound, but not like one from any animals she's ever encountered. It’s so… human. 

Its jaw opens, and instead of revealing its teeth, there’s a face. A human face. A face she recognizes. “Gort?”

“You… little…” It laughs again, and the sound feels so wrong. It’s like the noise is being forced from his throat against his will. “You little brat!”

Lora doesn’t move- can’t move. He looks so different, but his face is the same. The same face that has loomed over her all those years ago, and suddenly, the scene is no different. The grass and trees around her disappear, replaced with wooden floors and bookshelves. Her mother is in the corner of her eye, arms and face covered in bruises, some more faded than the others. 

“She’s just a child!” Her mother had yelled. It was something like that, at least. It’s been so long now, the memories are blurry. 

But it didn’t matter. Her mother could cry and protest all she wanted. Lora had awakened the Paragon. She had touched his prized Core- the one it had taken him years to infiltrate and steal. The one worth far more than her own life. She had touched it, and now she was going to die. 

“You brought this on yourself!”

And then he’s gone, but it’s not by Jin’s blade. Instead, he is flung through the air, and Lora can hear his back snap against the tree. The laughing stops, replaced with a pitchy whine that digs into her ears. Still on the ground, Lora watches as Haze steps forward, Crosier is hand, until she is right in front of the mewling creature. She raises up her weapon, and brings it down, skewering it through the skull. 

Lora breathes in sharply, quickly rising to her feet, but Haze doesn’t stop. She pulls it out of his head, and brings it back down again, every time getting a new sound of the man. 

“Haze?” 

Over and over again. With precision, but Lora takes note of the shake in her hands. Lora’s not sure if Gort is still alive- the only hint being the gurgle of blood leaking out of his throat and onto Haze’s shoes. 

Lora takes another step towards her, and when finally in range, places a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “Haze?”

The reaction is instant. She swivels around, eyes wide, blood flickering across both of them. “I told you! That’s not my name!” 

“I’m sorry.” Lora says quickly, trying to calm her, but it doesn't work. Instead Haze presses her hands against her skull, and she screams. She doubles over as if in agony. Lora reaches for her again, not sure what to say, but desperate to help. She tries wrapping her in another hug, but this time, Haze shoves her again and into the dirt. 

“You’re not my Driver! You’re dead! You’re dead!” 

“Haze!” Lora shouts, and she knows it’s a mistake the moment the word slips out. Her Blade backs away, heaving breath after breath. And then she turns and runs. “Haze!”

The cave is small and damp, and the rocks dig into his shoulders. Malos takes little note of it. He places a hand over his missing arm, struggling to convince his limited ether to stitch it back together. Every attempt burns at his Core, every cell working in overtime to do the impossible. He tries as much as he can before the pain becomes too much, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. 

Though he knows he’ll regret it, he reaches out to the other pieces of his Core once again. He hates how they feel in his head, but it’s the only thing keeping him from collapsing entirely. He can’t draw power from them, embedded in another Blade’s chest, but he can draw on the information. His own Core has lost so much information that it can barely remember how to function. By allowing a loose connection, he’s able to ‘remind’ his Core how to work. How to breathe and move and heal- albeit slowly. 

It also gives him other information, bits and pieces he has to fit together like a puzzle. The more he remembers, the more he questions whether or not it’s worth it to try. 

This world does not want him. Even when he stepped back into the shadows, that was not enough. It is demanded that he be punished. 

He deserves it, yes. For all the pain he brought Jin- the life he had taken from him, he deserves to be punished. He deserves Jin’s wrath. 

Isn’t it enough now? Jin got his life back. His Driver is safe and well, and Malos has suffered. He is a dulled Blade who will feel the agony of his shattered Core until the end of days. Why must it continue? Why is he still hunted?

They will not stop until he is dead. That much, Malos is certain of. Jin and Tantal will track him down, over and over, tear him apart, over and over, until there’s nothing left to take. Until there is nothing but a grey, empty slot where his Core used to lie, and his body fades around him. 

Is that what he wants? He places his hand on what’s left of his Core. In a way, yes. There is nothing left for him in this world. Everything he had, or at least thought he had, is gone. He is a maggot to be stamped out- a wretched omen of worse times. No, Malos does not want to live in this world. He does not want to exist here at all. 

But he does not want to die. He wants the late nights aboard the Marsanes, when Akhos would read aloud from his novel in the main living quarters while everyone else pretended not to listen. When he and Mikhail would go elbow deep into the engines, desperately trying to sort out the odd sound of the week in that elderly ship. When Patroka would spar with whoever she could find, acting like she wasn’t thrilled when she managed to knock the Aegis onto his ass. When Jin-

Hell, even Sever. Cressidus. Perdido. Obrona. 

Sever was probably the only genuine one- the only one who couldn’t have faked it. Malos was his Driver after all. There wasn’t much in the way of affection between them, but he enjoyed his companionship. When the lizard wasn’t being an asshole, that is. 

But the others? It wasn’t real. He thought it was at the time- up until they had been surrounded in the forest, and Jin hadn't been able to meet his eyes. He realized before they even attacked, but once they had wrapped him in that net and forced him to the ground, and Jin was still standing there, completely unmoving as they held him still, that was when he knew. 

Malos was a weapon to be wielded. That is all. Jin needed him before, and so he used him. He tolerated his presence because he had to. Or, at least he thought he did. Malos still would have helped him, even if Jin hadn’t reciprocated his touch, but maybe he hadn’t realized that. Malos was a creature, appeased and indulged, until his sword could be pointed in the right direction. 

The thought is a poison that covers over the rest of his memories. Those times were so precious to him, but now they’re being rewritten. He was not a part of it. He was an outsider, forcing himself among their family. 

He does not have a family. He does not have friends or loved ones. He never has. He has always been alone, even if he didn’t know it. 

He is nothing. 

That thought is what does it for him. The only things left for him in this world is death or pain, and he is finished with the pain. If Siren can’t finish himself off, then he’ll do it for himself. 

His fingers brush against what’s left of his crystal. With the right angle, he could probably manage to pull most of it out in one go, minus a few leftover chunks. It will hurt, but once he’s finished, it’ll be done. He won’t feel anything at all. It will all be over. 

And so, he makes up his mind. He takes another long breath, shuts his eyes, and closes his fist around his crystal. 

Then, he is on the ground, mouth filled with dirt and small rocks. He tries to move his one arm, but something is holding it still- or someone. There are more hands on his back, and Malos can’t get a good angle to see who it is. Who else could it be though? Jin? Here to take him back to Tantal? To make sure he can’t escape this world so easily? He deserves worse than a quick death. He deserves to suffer and rot and scream as they rip him apart. 

He’s been punished enough. Please. No more. Please, let him sleep. Let him fade. No more, please. 

Malos panics and writhes against the grip, but they are firm, and Malos can do nothing but gasp and plead. Then, as footsteps sound through the cave, he looks up. Instead of white hair, or even teal, he sees neither, and it takes him a moment to recognize the face. 

“Well.” Errol tuts, hands at his sides. “You didn’t make finding you very easy.”

Mikhail leans back further in his seat, fixed to the center of the console room. His eyes close, but sleep evades him, no matter how hard he tries. The thoughts pecking at his mind are different to dissuade. The thoughts aren’t new. They’ve consumed many of his nights before, but it’s been particularly difficult lately to push them aside. 

Was it right for him to leave? To disappear without a trace? It had felt necessary- to run lest he be questioned for answers he doesn’t have. What would he even say? Would they believe him? Would they think him a freak and want him killed? Surely not. Surely. 

But then what was he even afraid of? Of just acknowledging it? Was it easier to just walk away and pretend no one had seen and no one knew? He had done so well, for all those years, keeping it hidden under layer and layer of fabric. But then that Ferris had attacked, and it had just been him and Milton. What choice had he had? Was he supposed to let Milton die? Go back to Addam and tell him what happened to his pseudo son?

But the look on Milton’s face- that shock. It terrified him. It had been such a split second decision, but in the end, he had run. He’s never been able to make up his mind on whether or not it was a mistake. 

Something finally does tear Mikhail out of his thoughts, but it’s not what he would have expected. A flicker of light catches on something on the floor of the ship, making it shimmer in the darkness. Making up his mind, Mikhail slips out of the seat and picks it up with his fingers. 

He has to turn on the light before he can make out what it is. A small, purple gem of some kind, with rough, sharp edges. He stares at his reflection for a few moments before he realizes: Malos’s Core. 

There was something about Malos. He should have been afraid of him, but it was hard to be scared of that broken creature. So fine, not fear, but there should have been something else. Anger? That would make sense. That’s how anyone else would have felt, but not Mikhail. Instead, there was something else.Something he can’t describe. Malos scratched an itch he couldn’t contain. 

And when he left, why did his chest lurch so much? 

Mikhail stares at the crystal again. Their meeting had been so brief, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling. There was something about him that he can’t explain. Maybe… maybe he’s the only one with the answers he needs. Maybe he can make it all make sense again. 

Mikhail’s palm closes around the piece. But where is he? When all of Torna wasn’t able to track him down, why would he be able to now? How could he possibly find him when all others had failed. 

His hand tightens more and more, and it isn’t until a few moments later that he notices the purple glow. It becomes brighter and brighter, consuming the room around him. And then he screams, his vision blacking out. 

When he opens his eyes again, he’s not sure how long it’s been. Moments? Minutes? Days? Years? Centuries? 

His arm reaches towards his chest, fingers brushing against the Core embedded there- against the purple shard now implanted in the center. He traces the outline of it, over and over again. Endlessly. 

Malos’s Core, shattered and torn apart. Malos, second in command of Torna, followed by Akhos, Patroka, and himself. A Blade Eater, when a Core was forced into him by Amalthus, the Praetor of Indol. 

Milton’s limp body in his arms. Mythra’s scream and the red hair that followed. Haze turning into ether. Jin finding his body in a pile of corpses left by Indol- with a missed, barely noticeable pulse. Malos teaching him how to use his ether. The long years that followed, searching for the Aegis. Nia. Rex. Cressidus. Turning to ash along with the Marsanes. 

He remembers. Everything makes sense. It all comes together, one piece at a time. He remembers. He remembers. 

Malos. 

Stannif walks slowly in the room, keeping each step as silent as can be managed. Milton is still asleep- he hasn’t woken a single time since his arrival here. Mythra is still sitting in a chair next to his bed, head resting in folded arms just next to him. 

He stands there, listening to the boy’s breath. His inhales are shallow, and his exhales crackle along with his fragile lungs. Reaching forward, Stannif gently lifts the hem of the boy’s shirt, taking note of the dark, blistering purple across his abdomen. He won’t last much longer. 

Well, there is one way to save him. 

“Shh, my boy.” Stannif says when Milton lets out a particularly strangled gasp. “You will be well soon. So much more than well, in fact.”

Chapter Text

The trek takes roughly eight hours. A silent eight hours. It was early afternoon when they started, but by now it’s almost pitch black, with just the moon’s light shining down on them. Their group is small, only consisting of Malos, Errol, and one of the two lackeys he had seen before. Malos could try to run- he might even make it pretty far if he doesn’t get shot down. The still unnamed man is armed, but he doesn’t seem particularly fast. Malos could probably make it.

If he cared enough to bother, that is. 

They reach the edge of the Tornan Titan, and in this section, it slopes up to form a small hill before the cliff face. It’s a remote part of the beast, with few people wandering into this part of Dannagh Desert. That’s clearly why it was chosen, because even in the dark, Malos can see the dull glow of his Artifice’s cannon sitting at the top of the hill. 

Errol brushes past Malos, taking a few large steps up the incline and towards the cannon. “When will Mor Ardain be in range?”

The other man, still behind Malos with a gun in hand, responds. “Roughly twenty minutes, with these tides.”

“Cutting it close.” Errol says between clenched teeth before spinning back around towards Malos. “This better work.”

Malos’s eyes flicker towards the compartment that would hold its power source- and more specifically, towards the emptiness within it. “I told you before, you don’t have the firepower for this.”

“And I told you, I’d handle it.”

It’s then that Malos notices the second lackey, waiting in the darkness at the bottom of the hill, just out of sight. He must have been left behind to watch the Artifice, or so Malos thought, until he sees the prize being pulled along with him. 

Malos stops breathing when Jin is pulled into his view and forced to his knees. His body is wrapped in what looks like an ether net. It’s an earlier version compared to what existed in the other future, but it still works- that much is clear by the tired, pale look on Jin’s face and the tremble in his hands. 

“Funnily enough, we didn’t have to look very hard to find him. We found him wandering in the area, no Driver in sight.” Errol walks back down from the hilltop, a somewhat mocking tone in his voice as he plants himself next to Jin. “Even so called ‘Paragons’ aren’t much compared to human technology. This will be enough, right?”

“I…” Malos can’t speak. Can’t think. He can’t stop staring, while Jin’s gaze remains focused on the ground. Is that by choice, or does he lack the strength to even raise his head. “Not to sink the Titan. No Blade’s Core would be enough to do that.” 

That’s not entirely the truth. An Aegis Core would certainly be enough. Even just part of it. That small crumb he had put in before, one that he had rationed carefully, had been stronger than he expected. 

“Just aim for the city, then.” Errol waves a hand, uncaring. “Taking out Fonsa Myma will send a pretty solid message.” And then, he nods his head towards Jin. “Go on, then. Take what you need.”

Malos takes a step forward, slow and hesitant. Jin’s breathing is labored, like each gasp is constricted in his throat. They must have captured him a while ago, keeping him wrapped up in the net for… hours? Days, even? Any longer, and he might return to his Core all on his own. Maybe then, he’d lose his memories and finally leave Malos alone. 

But maybe not. Maybe Jin’s hate for him is so strong that it will linger. Maybe even when he is reawakened, his repulsion will overwhelm him and lead him back. 

Of course, if used in the cannon, there will be no reawakening. There will simply be death. 

Jin, with all the strength he can muster, lifts his head up. Their eyes meet, and he looks so pathetic. So weak. Not so different from how he had looked before, sitting in the rain, in a future that never was.

“Hurry up.” Errol interrupts, crossing his arms. “Mor Ardain will pass us soon. I want time to get the aiming right.”

If Jin leaves this place alive, he’ll go straight to Tantal. He’ll tell them where he is. They’ll hunt him down again and drag him back to that forsaken Titan. They’ll wrap him in chains and tear him apart until there’s nothing left. They’ll do it over and over again, never quite letting him die. 

They’ll hurt him, and frankly, Malos is tired of being hurt. 

Just let him die. Please. He begs himself, as ridiculous as it sounds. Let it go. Let it all go. Those years didn’t matter. Let him die. Let it finally be over. 

“Have you heard a word I’ve said? Hurry the hell up-”

Malos should let him die, but he is weak. He is a pathetic, worthless creature who deserves the pain that will come to him. He lurches forward, wrapping his fingers around the net. He screams as his broken Core is forced to release what little ether it can manage, burning through the restraints. 

Jin recovers quickly. The moment the net is free, his sword is out. The blade impales the man on his right, then left. Finally, he cuts through Errol’s throat, and his body collapses to the ground with a thud. The entire fight only lasts a handful of seconds, and then it’s over. 

After that, there’s only silence. 

“I’ll never learn, will I?” Malos finally says, his tone surprisingly light, given the circumstances. “I always thought you were sentimental. Who knew that’d become my vice?” It’s quiet again, for several moments. Then, Malos turns his head towards Jin. “So. Going to strike me down?”

“No.” Jin responds quickly, shaking his head. He opens his mouth to say more, but nothing comes.

“We wait for the others then. I assume they’re on their way?” And a bitterness fills Malos at that. “You never had a problem getting your hands dirty before.” Even when Malos begged him not to- when Malos begged to send anyone else in his stead. Someone who wouldn’t break apart and crumble from their own power. 

“No one is coming.” Jin says, raising his hands. “Please, let me explain.”

“I don’t need you to. I can put the pieces together myself.” Malos snaps back, and as they continue to stare at each other, Malos can’t help the anger that rises up in him. “Stop looking at me like that. You’re not fooling anyone. You never gave a shit about me. You needed me, so I let you wield me, and now that you have your life back, why risk it?”

“That’s not true.” Those words are immediate, but the ones that follow take a few seconds of silence to form. “Malos, you were everything to me. You were the only one holding me together. What I did- I regretted it the moment I left your side.”

“You know, I tricked myself into thinking that you tried to protect me, back when my memories weren’t so clear.” It seems so obvious now, but at the time, when he could barely remember his own name, it had been nice to think that someone- anyone- was on his side. “You didn’t. I protected you.” 

A group of Blades against an Aegis isn’t much of a fight, even with the Paragon on their side. All Malos would need to do is take control of his Siren and rain hellfire down on them. But Jin was standing so close. Even if Malos was careful, he’d likely be hit in the crossfire. 

“Even after I realized it was a trap, I still protected you. But you knew I would, didn’t you?”

Jin closes his eyes, tilting his head away. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“And I was a fool to think it was mutual.”

“Malos, please.” Jin shakes off the regret, focusing back on the present. “I never wanted this. I didn’t know what they were going to do to you.”

Malos rolls his eyes. “Oh, you thought they were taking me out for a nice Summer picnic?” 

“I thought they were going to kill you.” Jin says, and before Malos can retort, he continues. “They told me what would happen if they didn’t, and I… I was scared to lose her again.” He takes a breath. “That Blade- She could see into the future using the missing part of her Core. She said she saw you sinking Torna, Lora being killed by Amalthus- everything that happened before happening again. I couldn’t bear it.”

The new information takes Malos a moment to process. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

“I know.” And that’s the truth. Malos had sworn to him that he’d leave Alrest in peace for Jin’s sake. For Jin’s happiness. And what reason has Jin ever had to doubt Malos’s promises? “I know.”

“I would have died, if you asked.” Malos continues. “If you came to me and told me this, I would have ripped out my Core with my own hands for you, but you didn’t ask. You gave me hope. You made me think there was a place for me with you, and then you took it all away.” There isn’t anger in Malos’s voice, and Jin almost wishes there were. Instead, it’s just emptiness. “You rid yourself of me in the cruelest way possible.”

“I’m sorry.” Jin steps towards him, and Malos, in sync, steps back. “Let me fix this, however I can.”

And how does one, exactly, fix this? Fix his Core? Force Mythra to repair it? Hunt down Tantal and rid the world of them, ripping the pieces of his soul back from their Cores?

But even all of that would not be enough. “It’s too late for that.”

“Please.” Jin says, and begging sounds strange from his lips. “Do you still want it? To come with me?” 

“Don’t.” Malos stiffens at the words. His hands shake, and he’s filled with the urge to flee. “Don’t do this again.”

“You do.” Jin answers the question for him. “You could have severed our bond years ago, but you didn’t, even when I blocked you out. I can feel you.”

“Get out of my head.”

“You’re the one that let me in.” It is tempting now for Malos to shove him out- to prove him wrong- but the limited comfort he gains from that connection is something he cannot bear to let go. “Malos, I have wronged you, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make it right. But please, let me try.” Jin reaches one hand out towards him. “Come home with me. We’ll find a place in this world, together.”

Then, there’s more silence. Malos stares at the outreached hand, unsure if it will snap and bite him.

“It’s another trick.”

“It’s not. I swear to you, it is not.” Jin insists, keeping his hand out, fingering stretching towards him. “I will keep you safe from them. No one will ever chain you down again.”

Every ounce of Malos’s being screams at him to run. Don’t do it. Don’t be a fool. A stupid, stupid fool. But he is a fool, and before he’s truly come to an answer, his hand is already reaching back towards Jin. 

“Jin!” 

Malos’s hand immediately snaps back towards his side, eyes peering into the darkness. Jin turns towards the voice, and they discover her outline in the darkness at the same time. Jin’s sword is still clutched in her hand, the blue core lighting up the air around them. She doesn’t seem to notice Malos at all at first, focused entirely on Jin.

“Jin.” Lora repeats, her relief obvious as she steps towards him and wraps him in a hug. Jin, hesitantly, returns it. “I’ve been trying to find you for days. Haze is gone- I don’t know where she went.” She pulls back. “Where have you-”

Then she pauses, and her eyes lock onto Malos. 

“Lora, don’t-” Jin puts both of his hands on her shoulders, putting his body between them as if trying to somehow erase Malos from her vision. “It’s fine. I promise it’s fine.”

Malos watches the interaction, and the realization slowly sinks in. “You never told her, did you? That was a lie, too.”

Jin spins back around, still keeping himself between them. “Malos-”

Malos laughs- a real, gasping laugh that empties his lungs. “You never intended for me to come home with you. Not for one second.” His face twists in disgust. “You never could risk her.”

“I will tell her.” Jin says, desperation leaking out of his voice. “I’ll her everything.”

“Everything?” Malos says back. “Like killing that other Blade of hers? Or what about that destruction of humanity bit?”

“Malos. Just stop, please.” 

“What is that, in your voice? Hm?” Malos steps towards him, leaning forward until their faces are mere inches apart. “Shame? The Jin I knew was never ashamed of our goal. You made a promise to me, to see this through, to go with me to the end, but you couldn’t even manage that you coward.” 

The words are said with such venom, that Jin can’t help but reel back. “Malos-”

“You say it was real. It was all real.” Malos spreads his arms to either side in a dramatic fashion. “Was your dream real? Our righteous goal? Or was that another one of your lies?” Jin hesitates, glancing back at Lora, just to try and read her expression. “Don’t look at her, look at me. I’m the one you promised. I’m the one that swore myself to you. Was it real?!”

Jin turns back around, and he doesn’t have an answer. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Malos repeats, incredulous. “Five hundred years and you don’t know?! ”

“I wanted it.” Jin says quickly, with confidence, and then it wavers. “Parts of it. I was right about the Blades. I was right about Indol. About the Architect.”

“And you were right about humans. I was right about humans.” Malos narrows his eyes. “You know that. Tell me you know that.”

Jin reaches behind him, grabbing hold of one of Lora’s wrists and squeezing it tight. “Yes.”

“Then why did you leave me!?”

It was Mythra, and the boy. Seeing them together. Their hopes and dreams. Lora had dreams like that once. Maybe she wasn’t the only one. Maybe they deserved more time to make it right. “I wanted to give them another chance.”

“Well, they sure as hell got one.” Malos spits back. “The whole fucking universe reset for them, to give them a second go. And what did they do? They found a new way to mutilate our kind. Your precious Torna turned them into weapons without souls, to be wielded and drained of life. They did that.” His gaze slowly turns from Jin to Lora, still standing with wide, confused eyes behind him. “She did that.”

Jin shakes his head. “She didn’t know.”

“Oh, well, why don’t we ask her?” Malos circles around them to get Lora in view. Jin tries to keep her behind him, but Lora rips her wrist free, facing Malos directly. “Hm? You got tired of awakening Blades? Throwing their Core in a sword must have been so much easier. You don’t even have to feed them. They don’t have to breathe or feel. They just follow commands without an ounce of life left for themselves.”

The Aegis staring down at her with such fury is more than a little intimidating, but Lora manages to get the words out. “I didn’t know it would hurt them.”

“Oh, well that’s alright then!” Malos doesn’t stop. “Endless imprisonment in a piece of metal, but at least it wouldn’t hurt!”

“If I knew the cost, I would have never used it!” Lora leans towards him, matching his tone. “I was defending myself from you! If you hadn’t attacked us, that Blade would still be alive!” 

“And so it’s all my fault.” Malos says, quieter now. “Everything in this Architect damned universe is ALL MY FAULT! ” Silence fills the space between them, aside from the sound of Malos’s heavy breathing. He closes his eyes, and then, after a moment, opens them back up. “Well, I’m tired of taking the blame. I’m tired of being the villain for wanting to fix my father’s greatest mistake.”

“Malos.” Jin steps away from Lora and towards him. He reaches out again, but this time, he grabs hold of his arm. “Mythra told us about Amalthus. About what he did to you.”

The words fill him with even more rage, if that were possible. “Don’t you dare erase me.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Jin corrects. “So many people in this world- they only know that part of you. They only know Amalthus’s desires, implanted in you. I may be the only one who knows you. And this isn’t you.”

“You think this is Amalthus?” Malos says back, a smile crossing his lips. “No. If anything, this is you. Your anger. Your despair. For everything you have suffered.” The smile fades, and Jin notices an edge of unfallen tears along his eyes. “Everything I have ever done was to free you from your pain, and they hate me for that. Every creature in this world hates me, and you abandoned me. You left me to them. You led me to them.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s not enough, but it’s all Jin can say. “I’m so sorry. Please, let me fix it. We can go back to how things used to be. We can find Mikhail. Akhos and Patroka. We can be a family again.”

It’s a fairy tale. A trick. A fable. But still, it grabs at his heart. “Like how it used to be?”

“Yes.” Jin nods, relieved at the break in Malos’s rage. “I’ll do anything. Whatever it takes.”

Malos stares at him, looking into his eyes as if he might find an answer there. And then, his gaze moves slowly towards the Driver stood behind him. “Take her heart.”

Jin blinks, dread consuming him. “What?”

“Take her heart.” Malos repeats, nodding towards Lora. “She killed one of us. She’s no better than them.”

“Malos, I’ll tell her everything. I swear.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Then I’ll leave.” Jin’s grip on Malos’s arm tightens- a desperate grip. “We can go together, somewhere no one will find us.”

“Jin…” Lora speaks up behind him, but Jin raises a hand, begging for her silence.

“Please, Malos.” Jin continues. “Let me make another promise, one I will not break. We can go together.”

Malos says nothing, just peering into his eyes. Jin can’t read his expression as it flickers between a number of emotions before finally settling. 

“You never could.” Malos finally speaks, and even then, Jin isn’t sure what he’s thinking. “No matter what I do, no matter where we go, it will always be about her. Protecting her from me, because I’m the monster.” 

“Malos-” 

Malos rips his arm out of Jin’s hold. Calmly, he looks across the Titan. The view is excellent from here, and even in the darkness, the light of Auresco can still be seen. Torna’s head is less visible, tucked away- imprisoned by the humans that live on its back. 

Malos steps away from Jin and up the short hill- to the cannon still pointed in the direction of Mor Ardain’s approach. He places his hand against his Core- to the precious little that remains. He pulls at the edges, gritting his teeth in an attempt to ignore his pain as he rips it free- all but a small, coin sized piece in the corner. With a shaking hand, he drops the shards into the cannon’s compartment. Almost immediately, the cannon lights up a bright, overwhelming purple. 

“Malos, what are you doing?” Jin’s voice breaks through his thoughts. Malos isn’t used to Jin sounding afraid. He’s not sure how to feel about it.

“If everyone in Alrest wants me to be a weapon, I might as well meet them halfway.” Malos spins the cannon around, aiming it directly at Lora. 

Before Lora can even think to move out of the way, Jin steps in front. “Please, Malos.”

Malos says nothing. His eyes narrow on Jin, like he’s trying to make up his mind. Then he does, and he spins the cannon around all together, pointing it instead at Torna’s head. 

“You can blame Amalthus all you want, but I am what you made me.” Malos half turns towards Jin, keeping one hand still on the trigger. “You should’ve just asked me to die.”

“No! Wait!” 

And then he fires. He doesn’t ration time, allowing the cannon to use up all of his Core in one go. The blast it creates is more than even his Siren would have been capable of. 

Malos doesn’t wait for the attack to make contact. As far away as it is, it takes a few seconds to hit. He can feel the ground begin to shake beneath him, and he can hear the moan of the Titan as it takes the fatal blow. Malos doesn’t stick around for that part. Instead, he walks to the edge of the beast, and falls into the cloudy abyss below. 

Chapter Text

It was Addam, this time, though unlike Hugo, there was no body left to bury. 

It’s unlikely to change much. Addam’s actions had been inconsequential after the war, and Hugo, like all humans, will live a short, unimportant life. Maybe he will have children before that point, and the faces they meet in five hundred years time, wielding the Ardainian gems will be familiar- but different. 

The rest of the pieces had fallen perfectly- so perfectly that it feels like a cosmic joke. Or perhaps a statement to how monumentally Jin had failed to salvage even an ounce of good from the world as it slipped through his fingers. Dropped, would be more accurate. Thrown. Kicked and ran away, covering his eyes and ears as if that might erase the choices he had made. 

He was so close. Even with Malos gone, Mikhail mutilated, Haze within the clutches of that man…

Lora had said she disappeared- ran off after slaughtering Gort, still covered in his dripping blood when she fled. Lora couldn’t find her, but Jin knew where she’d be. The rumors, whispered in taverns and alleyways alike, have since confirmed it.

He’s heard other rumors, too. About him. About Amalthus. He’s the Praetor now. It took him seventeen years longer than last time, but he got there in the end. Biding his time. Waiting for the right moment to strike. Waiting for Haze, maybe. 

There are rumors of a blue shine beneath his white bangs. Rumors from servants, laughed at and threatened into silence. Whistleblowers found dead in a stream before the sun had had a chance to rise. A blue shine, and, some say, a hint of purple. No one believed it. Jin believed it. And it was his fault. 

But he had been so close. Despite Lora’s desire to help, he had dragged her clear of Spessia. No matter how much she protested- tried even, to leave without him- Jin wouldn’t let her go. He had scared her, in the end, Jin thinks, but it was worth it, if she lived. It would be hard to convince her to forget about Haze and move on. If she ever discovered Fan La Norne, there would be no end to it. She would fight, day after day, to bring her home. 

In the end, it didn’t matter. 

A creature like Gort had come upon them. For a brief moment, Jin had thought it was Gort, despite Lora’s story of his demise. He hadn’t seen his beast-like form in so long, and they all looked so similar. Regardless of who it may have been, it had surely been sent after them. The first time, with Gort, may have been a coincidence, but not this. 

The fight was short. None of the bloodlust that had existed within Gort was found here. Instead, it was no different than any of the monsters they had fought in the past. Jin stuck his sword into its chest, and it lashed out, swinging its claws into anything it could reach. 

And then Jin heard a voice, screaming for him to stop. He almost didn’t recognize it. He was used to Mythra’s calm, perhaps sarcastic, sometimes whiney, tone, but this was something else. Jin had looked up and found her rushing towards them. Her armor was shredded, skin leaking blood from wounds that had not yet healed, but she paid no attention to any of that. Instead, she looked at Jin like he was the monster, pushing him away and pulling his sword free from the creature. 

Don’t hurt him, she had said. For a brief moment, Jin swears her yellow hair flashed red- just for a second. His eyes narrowed on her Core, cracked through the center, though without any missing chunks. 

Don’t hurt him. 

It was Lora who realized why first, and the horror showed on her face. 

Who could have-? That question had an obvious answer, but why was a better one. Jin looked again at Mythra, at the gash in her side that slowly stitched itself back together. 

Milton is gone. Only this beast remains. Mythra can’t control him. He has to be stopped. 

The moment the words leave Jin’s lips, Mythra whips around, fury in her eyes. 

Then the questions come. 

What happened to Torna? Was it Malos? Where is he now? How could you let this happen? How could you let it happen again ?

Lora had yet to ask about Malos, a fact that surprised Jin with every step they took in silence. Maybe there were too many other things on her mind to bother with it. Maybe she was scared of the answer. 

Jin wanted to defend himself- wanted to blame anyone else, but he couldn’t. And so instead, he stood in silence. Torna gone. Addam dead. Milton warped into a creature beyond recognition. The pain of it burned in her- that much was clear when, again, Jin saw a flicker of red. 

She was like him, clinging onto the one thing the world had not yet snatched away from her.

But the world wasn’t finished yet. 

As they spoke, Lora stepped closer to it, still unable to believe the truth of what she was seeing. She leans in to look it in the eyes. His eyes. They looked at each other, and the creature- Milton, if you could still call it that- lurched towards her. Jin had reacted quickly, slicing his sword through its neck, but not before its teeth slid through Lora’s fleshy stomach. 

Weeks have passed since that day. Now, Jin stands on the edge of the Tornan Titan- the small part of it that had yet to fully sink below the Cloud Sea. Jin’s mask rests atop his nose, hiding the bright color of his glowing, red core. The flames burn high into the sky, consuming the wrinkled and aged picture that had been taken so many years ago. 

“You won’t come back?”

Jin can’t remember the words he gave last time, so instead, he says nothing. 

Mikhail is waiting, just at the end of the trail. Jin can’t quite make out the look in the eyes- the same look that had been there since they crossed paths again. It could be anger- blaming Jin for his failures. Or perhaps something else entirely. 

Regardless, Mikhail follows Jin as he passes him- towards the Marsanes Mikhail had made his home. 

Next, they’ll go down. Down into the depths of the Cloud Sea. They’ll find him. 

And this time, they’ll go together.