I'm not going to lie, I nearly bought the fact that The Kid was going to die when I picked up Zulf. Especially when he was struggling to get up when he got back to The Bastion. So I wrote a story about him ACTUALLY dying.

I learnt from this that it is DAMN hard to write an emotional death scene when one participant isn't allowed to talk.

Hope you enjoy it anyway, even if it isn't emotional!

Zia was excited.

The Kid would be back with the final Shard soon, and then their journey would be at an end. Everything they had gone through together had led up to this point.

She didn't know what The Kid would choose in terms of the protocol, but she would back him up no matter what he chose. Sure, she'd never had the most wonderful life before the calamity, but if The Kid had picked up everyone else's slack from the start, he deserved to do what he wanted.

For a moment, Zia allowed herself to be sad about Zulf. He was merely led astray by her father's journal. He wasn't a bad person, just someone who had made bad decisions. But now The Kid was bringing carnage to his doorstep, decimating The Ura piece by piece. Could he do it?

Sure, The Kid had been through a lot before, but those were just creatures, no form or reason in their attacks, easy to dispose of. But The Ura, they were an elite and oiled war force.

They had been able to keep up with The Caels for a good portion of The War, despite the Caelondian's advanced machinery. Now it was just one Kid against them, with limited technology.

It was getting dark, and The Kid was supposed to be back by the middle of the day. Zia shook the thought from her head. He'd be okay, as long as he didn't pick up any stray creatures to bring back with him. Zia had been witness to many times that The Kid had been carrying a creature back with him that took up his arms, meaning he couldn't hold his weapons to defend himself with.

But he wouldn't be that stupid now, would he? There were high stakes now, not just for his life, but for everyone's.

She and Rucks were standing at the entrance to the Bastion, waiting for him to get back. Once they had confirmed that he was fine, they were going to travel into the heart of the Bastion, and wait for him there. The Kid had a big decision ahead of him, one he hadn't made before, and he'd need their guidance to choose.

Seeing a body tumbling through the air, the duo turned their attention to the sky. After closer inspection, they noticed that they could distinguish a second person folded over The Kid's.

Zulf.

The two bodies collided with the ground with a resounding thud, and Rucks and Zia rushed over to Zulf, dragging him over to the side of the monument. Zia hovered over his body while Rucks checked him for serious injuries. His body was covered in scratches and bruises, and after a while, The old man declared that he had slight concussion, but there was nothing life-threatening.

Hearing this, Zia sighed in relief, and then spun around to check on The Kid.

Stepping in front of her, Rucks shook his head slowly. "He'll want to get up on his own terms, otherwise he'll feel weak."

Biting her lip, Zia nodded and followed Rucks a few paces away from The Kid.

"Hey Kid."

The Kid stirred, roused by the voice, but didn't react beyond a grunt.

"Get up kid"

The Kid seriously seemed to be struggling to get up, and Zia had to hold herself back from dashing to him while Rucks frowned.

"Hey, that ain't funny. I said get up."

All The Kid did was roll over onto his back, coughing violently. Zia and Rucks both ran to his side and Zia gasped in shock.

It was worse than she thought.

Arrows covered his front, and seemed to pierce deep into his body. His shirt was in tatters, broken apart by the slashing of knives, leaving bloody trails on The Kid's tanned skin underneath. His white hair was speckled with ash, and his hands were blistered. The Kid turned his head to the side in pain, and spat out blood on the grass, a drop that he missed trickling out the side of his mouth, and he looked up at Zia, noticing her.

Only his eyes remained unchanged, still sparkling with mischief, defiance and an underlying sadness.

Zia glanced at Rucks fearfully, who was surveying The Kid with a grim face. He started conveying his findings with a dull tone.

"These knife wounds, they're too deep for someone of my expertise to fix, but they aren't infected at least. We should thank The Mother that The Ura keep their blades clean. The blood has clotted up well enough, so that should heal over time."

"If we had the time." Zia silently added.

"These burns, while severe, aren't really a problem for someone of your bullheadedness, eh kid?" He chuckled solemnly, patting The Kid lightly on cheek, like someone would to their grandson.

"These arrows, however..." Rucks cleared his throat. "He must have taken the brunt of the attack for Zulf. The arrows would have already gone deep enough when they hit him, but he fell on his front, with Zulf's added weight on his back." He winced. "It must have pushed the arrows even deeper than they were before."

Rucks grasped the broken shaft of an arrow in The Kid's shoulder, pulling on it. The Kid yelped in pain, squirming, and Rucks lost his grip on the arrow due to the movement, it slipping through his fingers, a jagged edge of the splintered wood gashing his palm.

Hissing in pain, Rucks held his hand gingerly. "The arrowheads must be barbed. I can't get them out unless I cut him open and reach inside. The shafts are too short to pull on correctly. If the arrow had gone straight through I could have broken off the ends and took it out fairly easily, but like this..."

He grimaced, as if entertaining a rather unpleasant thought, and considered the placement of the arrows.

"This one here" He indicated an arrow to the middle of The Kid's chest. "It must have at least nicked an artery, if not his heart. How he isn't dead already..." He clicked his fingers, and answered his own question. "The arrowhead must be blocking the stem of flow, restricting internal bleeding. If we take that out, he'll die even quicker than he is already."

He tapped two arrows piercing through the left side of The Kid's chest. "These have assuredly hit his lung. If we don't treat that as soon as possible, he's going to asphyxiate."

He pushed himself up on his cane, his voice turning business-like.

"Okay, I'll need to cut him open, so I'm going to get the Ura Machete from The Armoury, some bandages from my tent, and then I'll have to make a last stop at the distillery to get some health tonics. You have to make sure that he stays awake until I get back, otherwise I might not be able to bring him back."

"You can save him though, right?" Zia pleaded with Rucks, desperation in her voice.

He didn't answer.

Watching Rucks hobbling off, Zia turned back to The Kid to see his eyes drifting closed.

"HEY! Hey there. I'm here, just concentrate on me. Please." The Kid opened his eyes drowsily, brown fixing on Zia's green.

He looked tired, more tired than she'd ever seen him before.

"Rucks will be back soon, and he'll fix you up real good. You'll be okay, I promise. Just trust me."

The Kid cracked up suddenly in a fit of hacking. After a few seconds, Zia deduced the cause.

He wasn't coughing.

He was laughing.

Shaking his head minutely with a soft smile, The Kid patted the grass next to him, indicating Zia should lie down beside him.

Now that both of them were looking up into the sky, The Kid lifted a finger weakly and traced the heavens. Following his finger, Zia noticed the stars. The constellations brightened the dusk lighting up the black. Zia tried to make out the constellation for her patron Goddess, Acobi, and could just about make out Her Shackles intertwining together.

For a moment, she lost herself in a daydream.

She and The Kid were relaxing after a long day together, sprawled over the lawn, carefree and in bliss. The Kid wasn't hurt, she wasn't terrified, and they were merely enjoying each other's presence.

She wondered if The Kid would even want to do that with her.

"Beautiful." Zia sighed.

She felt The Kid nod gently beside her, but when she turned her head, he wasn't looking at the looking at the stars.

He was staring at her.

She forgot all about the current situation, and became acutely aware of the close proximity of the two of them.

She could feel his breathing beside her, chest moving up and down abnormally, blood oozing out of his wounds. Where their skin was touching blazed with heat, and Zia jerked back in embarrassment, blushing and heart racing.

She knelt up on her knees to the side of The Kid, and collected herself.

He must be developing a fever. That's why he was so hot.

Zia screwed up her face and wordlessly scolded herself. That's not what she meant, this was hardly the time.

Placing her hand on The Kid's chest as lightly as possible, she tried to gauge how deep his breathes were.

They were certainly getting shorter.

Panicking, she put on some more pressure to try and find his heartbeat. After a tense moment, she could feel it under her palm. It was so weak, skipping a beat every now and again. How someone could survive on such slow pulses, she didn't know.

The Kid really was stubborn to hold on for so long in this state. She couldn't imagine how much pain he was in. She didn't think that she would be able to hold on for this long.

The Kid grinned impishly at her actions.

Enjoying yourself? He waggled his eyebrows, wincing at even that small movement.

She glared at him. How could he make jokes at a moment like this?

He was going to die. He knew it, Rucks probably knew it, and she was beginning to accept it.

The Kid must have seen the despair in her eyes, for he lifted a bloody hand up to her cheek, stroking her face. Zia leaned into his palm, closing her eyes. She sensed the hand sweeping a stray strand of hair behind her ear and into her cap.

The hand fell away, and Zia snapped her eyes open when it intertwined with hers, lifting them both off his chest and into Zia's lap.

Something wet fell onto her skin, and Zia realized that she was crying.

She wished Rucks would get back.

Then they could have at least a chance at saving him.

They could at least try.

She hated sitting here helpless. She should have gone and got the supplies instead of him. She would have been quicker, with two fully working legs.

She was an idiot. She should have thought of that. This was all her fault.

The Kid rubbed a thumb over the teardrop, rubbing it into their skin, smiling.

It's okay. Don't worry, I'm here. It'll all be fine.

Zia noticed that she had seen him smile more on his deathbed, than she had throughout all the time she had known him.

She sobbed, bringing their hands up to her face and touching them to her lips, whispering into them.

"It's not okay. It's not okay. You're going to leave me... Leave us. Please don't leave me. Not after my father." Zia noticed with fear that The Kid's hand was getting colder by the second.

The Kid turned his head up to the sky once more and started humming a song.

An Ura funeral march.

Zia grieved, humming sadly along with him.

His hand slacked in her palm.

The light drained from his eyes.

He stopped breathing, using his last breath to utter a sentence.

"What a beautiful night to fly."

The Mason King had given The Kid the ability to drive through the onslaught of arrows, despite the despair he had felt from Zulf. However, The King knew that true success was in the mind. It was up to The Kid if he wanted to overcome his injuries. He would have to choose soon, however. The Stallion was getting restless. The King leaned back, a hand coming to rest on his Hammer, and watched The Kid's last moments.

There truly was no Mason the God respected more than he.

The Morning Stallion twisted his neck and whinnied in annoyance. He was bored. He envied and despised The Son in equal parts for his ability to be eternally entertained. The Stallion stamped his hoof in impatience, and forced The Kid to make up his mind on his fate.

It was time to die.

The Gorging Host cried while eating. Living things were never satisfied, and neither was he. They want more and more, getting hungrier and hungrier.

Zia wanted The Kid to survive for longer. She wanted more time. Rucks just wanted The Kid to carry out a decision that he didn't think he could do himself. He wanted more service. Zulf had wanted revenge, and then even after that, he wasn't sated. Then he had wanted death. Everyone wanted something. The Kid had done enough. He'd done his fair share, who could ask for more than that? For a single time, The Host granted a wish. The Kid wanted to see his mother once more.

The Host wept, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a little less hungry.

The Veiled Widow felt The Kid's pain as he died, and smiled. It was no different to the Pain that he had been carrying his entire life. Now was the time for him to get his equal dose of pleasure. He deserved it.

A scar among billions faded from her skin.

The Wakeful Bull snorted in derision at The Widow's actions, shaking his horns. He had given The Kid more than enough protection from pain with the Bullhead shield he had reliquished to him. If the fool couldn't use it for its purpose, it was his own problem. The Bull still regarded The Kid highly, however. He had a unique ability to cause absolute mayhem and commotion, despite the fact he carried everything out with order and precision.

He truly was one of a kind.

The Crippled Duke tapped the surface of his mirror, releasing The Kid from his Purpose. Normally, he and The Bull would judge the Spark before it returned to The Mother, but this one was given a pass. He had carried out his duty to his country admirably.

The Duke commended such dedication.

The Chastened Maid's Chains rattled as she shifted. The Duke had come to visit her with news of someone he had released. She and he had always been close. Oath and duty went hand in hand, after all. Reviewing The Kid that The Duke had pointed out, she nodded her head in agreement, despite the fact that The Duke had no senses to notice the action. The Kid's oaths had been honoured.

As she freed him, The Maid felt her responsibility lighten, and her chains loosened but a fraction.

The Carefree Son played in the wind, unaware the happenings in the pantheon. Blowing on his windmill, he swooped over everything, laughing. Then, he stopped. He was no longer living in the moment. His plaything was dead. No more twisting The Kid's luck, making him fall flat on his face, no more amusing himself with The Kid's antics. The Son grumbled. Now he had to stick to gamblers for amusement again. The Son appeared in The Kid's last moments. All time was open to him. Picking up the wind and giving The Kid's Spark a faster track up to The Keeper, he heard The Kid's last words, and laughed gleefully.

The Kid was right. It truly was.

The Tower Keeper took the last of the health from The Kid's Spark painlessly, delivering it to The Mother. Climbing his Tower, he reminisced. He had placed The Kid into his life, and now he had taken him out of it. Sometimes he wished that he do more for those he admired, especially after he had took The Kid's mother with illness.

But He, above all else, knew that everyone must die.

The Lorn Mother received the last of The Kid's Spark from The Keeper, and cradled it in her arms. She had to admit, she had been expecting Zulf, but in the end, it didn't matter. They were all her children. She returned The Kid to his place in the beating heart she held in her hand, ripped from her chest many eons ago.

It was for lives such as The Kid's that The Mother bore the Star of Caelondia in its stead.

They told Zulf as soon as he woke up. He didn't answer. He brushed them off, grabbed a shovel, digging in an empty placement at the edge of the Bastion. Rucks dragged a slab of stone from The Forge, and started carving an engraving in it with the Machete he had intended to use to save The Kid's life. Zia brought out her harp and sang a soft mournful tune, letting the time fly by while the grave was carved out.

When Zulf finished shoveling, the trio picked up the body, and carried it over to The Kid's final resting place, placing the body gently inside. Zulf and Zia pushed the excavated dirt back into the hole, while Ruck's dragged his engraving towards the top of the mound.

It struck Zia then, when they were patting down the earth.

They were burying a teenager, the same age as her.

She felt nauseous.

She stood up, and closed her eyes, mourning her friend. Could she even call him her friend? How much time had they even spent together in the end?

She felt the two older men stand to either side of her in silence.

Zulf broke the stillness.

"He saved me. Even after everything I had done. I was being beaten to death when he walked up, carrying a Battering Ram all by his lonesome. I could feel him hesitate as he stood over me."

He cast a deep breath, and continued.

"He cast his weapon aside, and picked me up. He carried me towards the skyway, my brethren striking arrows through him. I-"

His voice cracked.

"I could feel it when each bolt hit him. He stalled for a moment each time, and his grip on me tightened."

At the back of her mind, Zia felt it raining.

"They seemed to ignore me. Maybe they thought I was already dead." She heard his body drop to the floor.

"Then, they stopped. I don't know why. But it must have been too late. It was too late." Zia opened her eyes, and saw him sobbing, tears mixing with the raindrops falling on their heads.

Rucks had dragged The Kid's Life-Long Friend, and placed it next to slab at the top of the grave. The two companions would never be parted.

Zia turned her vision towards the headstone, observing it for a moment. There was a saying on it.

"What a shame it is that we have but one life to lose for our country."

Zia hated it.

The Kid had gone up and beyond the call of duty. He shouldn't have to do it again.

"He, uh- he didn't have a Patron god, so I couldn't engrave a symbol…"

It was then that Zia detected the thing about the engraving that was bothering her.

The headstone was blank.

They didn't have a name to put there.

Zia broke, tears streaming down her face, sprinting to try and get as far away from the grave as possible.

Away from that glaring empty space on the stone, accusing her.

She ended up in The Shrine.

The huge empty space merely echoed her sobs, reminding her how alone she really was in this disaster of a world.

She fell on her knees in front of Acobi's Alter, head leaning on the cool metal, wailing in sorrow.

Composing herself after an hour, Zia took a detour to the cleansing bowl on the way out. Gazing at her reflection in the water, she noticed something on her cheek. Unable to identify it in the rippling reflection, she rubbed it, and brought her digits in front of her eyes to see what the offending substance was.

Her fingers were bright red. Covered in blood.

The blood from when The Kid stroked her cheek, seconds away from his death.

She barely got outside before she regurgitated the contents of her stomach into the soil. Dry heaving for a few more minutes, Zia hastily wiped her fingers on the grass beneath her hands, got up and travelled into the heart of The Bastion, where she knew that she would find the other two waiting for her.

It was like trying to remember a dream when you wake up. The memory is similar, but different in every way. This was what was going to happen if The Kid survived. What they had expected to do. Help make a choice.

The Future, or The Past. The Old World, or The New World.

Zia knew that Zulf and Rucks weren't going to do it. They expected her to rise up to the plate.

But she didn't want to.

Choosing Restoration, well, each of them knew the upsides of that. They could save The Kid, save everyone who had died in The Calamity. But they might not remember. The Calamity might happen again. The Kid might die again. Zia thought of the quote on The Kid's headstone. Did she want to subject him to more thankless work, once again? And, if she was being honest, even though she knew it was selfish, she didn't like her life back then, she didn't want to go back to that.

On the other hand, there was Evacuation. She could let The Kid rest in peace, and move on in this shattered world. Would she- No. Would they be able to live the guilt? Zulf had told them that The Kid had merely knocked The Ura out when wading through their defences. A Mason hammer and a whack with a Battering Ram could be used as non-lethal weapons when needed.

Why would he let them all live, why would he save Zulf, if he was going to choose restoration? It would have made his actions redundant. Was he was going to choose Evacuation? Would choosing restoration now dishonour his wishes?

She didn't know.

Deliberating on both options for many minutes, Zia made up her mind. She strode up to the monument and initiated her chosen protocol before she could stop herself. Just as The Kid had done all the time she had known him, she would deal with the consequences. As the Protocol initiated, she thought of The Kid.

To get them to this moment, he had sacrificed everything.

Zia knew it was high past time everyone else did the same.

Hey, thanks for reading! I'd love to know if this was as emotional as I tried to make it. I don't know if I'm that good of a writer to do it effectively. I put the Gods thing in at the last minute, but I'm kind of worried that it's a bit over the top. Maybe it's a bit TOO cliché, if you know what I mean, so let me know what you think, and I'll take it out if you don't think it works. Any Reviews or Favorites would be most appreciated, but as always, I'm not going to force you.