Author's note: I had intended to update this yesterday, on my birthday, but unfortunately other priorities got in the way. Here is the final chapter of Gallian Nights.

Warning: Intense Violence towards the end of the chapter. Probably not suitable for those under fourteen.

Chapter 17: Wax and Wane

Bob was happy.

The land was covered in red. Finally, a different color made its way in the landscape. With brown and green having taken all the spotlight, it was good to see that a less common color like red finally had its showcase.

But something didn't seem right, and as Bob walked among the many stiff bodies of laguz and beorc, he began to feel that sense of cold once again... This cold was the cold of death. The sight that filled his vision was the rotting of flesh. And that eerie, execrable silence that comes after the total annihilation of an area allowed him to hear his own heartbeat. And at that moment, Bob realized that this wasn't beautiful at all.

--

About three hundred yards away Mist staggered forward, her hip in great pain, for three arrows had lodged themselves in it. As she gasped and tried using her Mend staff, she heard the rustling of life and a gasp for breath. The girl quickly ran towards the sound, and saw who it was.

"Shinon? Shinon! You're safe...!"

"You'd think I'd die so easily, girl? Now don't just stand there! Hurry up and heal me! I hate limping!"

"I'll... I'll get right on that. Thank the heavens, Shinon. You don't know how glad I am to see you!" The girl smiled, but she quickly winced. The pain was extraordinarily great.

Shinon winced as well. His foot was crushed and it was hard for him to walk. "You don't look so fine yourself... Where's that damn Rhys when we need him?!"

--

A mile away, Soren lay sprawled on the ground. He was too exhausted to move. Ranulf had a beaten Muarim on his back, and in his transformed state he couldn't speak in the common tongue, but those around him knew exactly how he felt.

They had won, but at what cost?

Ike and Mia kneeled. It was too painful to stand up.

Skimir was unconscious, curled up in a little ball, but the blood on his claws showed that he didn't fall without taking out his fair share of foes.

Ike choked as he tried to remember what had happened...

--

Gwath fell before the might of the Gallian royals and their comrades.

Sixteen checkpoints, each fortified with at least five thousand rebels, were taken by Soren's genius.

How?

Kilvas turned its back on the rebellion once Saigo was defeated. In their eyes, Saigo's defeat was the last straw. Now, whatever fight the rebels would go through would be a fight for survival.

Like Kilvas, Phoenicis was a "guest" in this conflict. The battle began with Gallia calling for help from Crimea, so those two nations should be credited with the victory. Yes, the hawks were assisting their beast-like brothers in this endeavor, but they should not earn much credit for the eventual outcome.

With the loss of its air support, rebel morale plummeted drastically. Tonerk growled at his compatriots: "We've fought so hard side by side, are you so willing to throw our work away to fight amongst ourselves now? Let us prove to ourselves that we do not need Kilvas to win our freedom from those royal pansies. They might have the hawks on their side, but what are those birds, anyway? Just brown feathers and talons. A hawk could not stand up to the might of a tiger. We shall win this next battle, and crush these fools as they march forward. Kill these traitors, kill them all!"

But words could do little when one is facing a charging wall.

One by one the Phoenicis Hawks would engage checkpoints, taking down rebel forces. Begnion archers and mages were few and far between, so they were stationed in the rebel capital. These checkpoints were lined with cannon fodder, because Tonerk knew that his only clear victory would have to be in a fight where the odds seemed almost hopeless. If he could crush the royal army and its allies in his own base, he could ensure a swift retaking of all lost ground and, shortly afterwards, the capital would fall.

The wave of the alliance swept through the rebel positions. As each fort of Gwor fell, the rebels lost their will to fight. Many surrendered, and, to their surprise, were greeted warmly. But Tonerk's elite warriors were still at his main base, so he cared little about these deserters. They were rats leaving a sinking ship. They'd come crawling back to him once he crushed these royals in his own turf.

Like the men of Crimea during the siege of Delbray, the Gallian rebels rallied themselves and regrouped in Castle Hurri. Tonerk gathered forty thousand men, while an army of sixty thousand marched towards him. Though he was outnumbered, with aerial forces engaging him, Tonerk felt that numbers would not determine victory. He was certain that he'd win... One might have thought that maybe, just maybe, he had finally gone insane.

Their roars pierced the sky and their paws pounded against the soil as the first wave of Gallian rebels plunged into the marching lines of their royal counterparts. Phoenicis Hawks dived only to find Begnion archers and wind mages ready to pierce their wings and blast them out of the sky.

And the allied forces met a new threat they'd hardly met before: Shamans and Druids. These mages of dark or elder magic shimmied along in their thick black robes, engulfing foes in violet flame.

Ironically, many of these shamans were casting the weakest of elder spells: Flux, and it did quite a good job searing flesh off of Gallian troops or tearing holes in Crimean armor. Oscar gasped as a Flux spell tore the front of his armor and forced him to fall off his horse and hit the ground, gasping for breath.

Seeing Oscar fall, Astrid angrily twirled her bow and fired twenty arrows, and, like pincushions, these dark mages fell. Those corrupted mages might have powerful spells, but they weren't that durable against physical attacks. Thus, there was hope for the alliance yet.

And Tonerk spotted that weakness, so as he saw many of his troops fall, Tonerk did the unthinkable.

"Valtome, hand me that flask..."

"This... This is the Feral drug..."

"I know, I kept it for such an occasion... There are about fifty bottles. Distribute them among our men. The revolution will live, at the very least, as scars on these filthy lambs."

With morphed laguz in their ranks, the rebels suddenly gained a surge in strength, and royal troops howled as their foes proved to be stronger and swifter.

Because they shifted between laguz and Feral One, these rebel troops were both powerful and, yet, still 'human' in thought, though that might change at any moment. Of course, their lives were living hells, with each of them feeling as though their heads were about to split open with the surge of adrenaline the drug gave them.

Their rage manifested itself in their killing effectiveness. These laguz, frustrated with the apparent lack of sovereignty in their society, frustrated with the fact that, though humans once enslaved laguz, now they were being so friendly, frustrated physically by that intense pain in their heads, charged headfirst into the fray. They'd tear at a foe with great vigor, ripping them apart in seconds with their focused fury.

That morning's dew was rather strange: it had a reddish color and was much more thick than the normal, transparent, watery liquid that would drip off the leaves.

And it was everywhere, dripping off of every leaf, platting against the ground and turning the soil red as well. It seemed to drip constantly, as though it could never fully evaporate. As each rebel and royal laguz fell, as each beorc who stood for either Begnion or Crimea gasped their last breath, this red liquid continued to flow.

Muarim, Ranulf, Lethe, and a few of the other veteran laguz knew that this drawn out assault would not bode well at all. Thus, they single-handedly dived through the enemy lines and As they continued to press forward, slashing past the rows of enemy laguz, they found a strange sight.

Mordecai and a fellow dark gray tiger were also smacking their way past their semi-feral brothers. It was quite shocking to know that he'd been behind enemy lines this whole time. Lethe honestly thought that Mordecai was either hiding or trying to fend for himself, not keeping up the fight here where few allies would stand by him. It was both comforting and, yet, a little sorrowful that Mordecai, the most benevolent tiger Lethe ever knew, could be capable of being so brave and violent.

But Marcia's scream forced Lethe back to her senses. Her friends and close comrades were being torn apart by these wayward laguz brothers and sisters. For Gallia, for these comrades who risked their lives for her, and for this pointless bloodshed to come to an end, Lethe had to rush forward and kill Tonerk and Valtome as soon as possible...

But what Lethe found surprising was that the laguz who darted past her and charged up the steps of the castle where Tonerk was settled wasn't Ranulf or Lyre, but it was Muarim.

The green tiger charged up the castle stairwell, smacking rebels aside and knocking them out cold. He needed answers. Why did Tonerk cause so much destruction? What was his purpose? He claimed to be fighting for all the laguz, but making his soldiers into Feral Ones seemed to counter everything that came out of his mouth. It made no sense, and Muarim needed to know.

--

Valtome emerged from the castle's west gate, leading his band of armored knights to take on their Crimean counterparts. Using Elthunder and Thoron, Bastian and Soren made quick work of these knights, and Lucia charged at Valtome. "In respect for the Apostle, I will take you down and drag you over to Sienne myself. She has to be the one to punish you for your vile actions, Senator." Lucia twirled her blade.

"Lady Lucia of Crimea, what a pleasant surprise. It seems fitting that I shall kill your wretched hide using the divine powers of Light. Behold the power of Valaura!"

Valtome raised his hand, and a huge purple sphere came crashing down. Rhys gasped, it looked just like Rexaura... But that lavender light did not seem as majestic as the golden glow of Rexaura, no, this looked corrupted... Like a mixture of light and dark magic. Rhys gulped, this could bode ill for Lucia... If she got hit by that spell, physical burns might not be the only retribution she'd get...

But just when Lucia was about to take the hit, a gust of wind flew in front of her, and the two spells clashed in midair. Soren and Bastian had their hands outstretched, focusing their energies so that their combined magical strength could protect the woman they both loved.

Lucia gulped, if Valtome alone could be so much stronger than Soren and Bastian, she'd have a horrible time fighting him.

"Thoron!" Soren growled.

"Bolgagone!" Bastian commanded.

Fire and Thunder blasted Valtome, catching him off guard. "Lucia, now!" Soren yelled, and Lucia, swinging her sword, flew at her opponent with great speed and struck him as hard as she possibly could. Enraged that he could be beaten by three lesser officials, Valtome immediately cast Valaura on himself, thus blasting Lucia along with him. The girl flew back and hit a tree, and was knocked unconscious. Soren charged forward, but found that Valtome already beat himself senseless

The mage rushed to Lucia's side and tried to heal her, but halfway into the procedure, an arrow flew from behind and struck him on the back. Soren collapsed, and Bastian, unable to use spells, could only take down the cruel archer and stand there beside the two of them.

--

Muarim finally reached Tonerk, and the two laguz glared at each other.

"Why, brother laguz... Why did all of this happen?"

Tonerk sneered: "Muarim, you pathetic slave. Those humans tortured you beyond belief, yet you still fight beside them."

"Forgiveness is one of the greatest virtues..."

"'Tis a human virtue. We laguz are far superior to humans, and we know what reality means. Forgiveness has no effect on scum like those humans."

"That is where you are wrong!"

"Oh?"

"Only when you forgive can you achieve greater things! Vengeance is a meaningless pursuit because once your enemy is completely destroyed, all you've succeeded in doing is causing destruction, and if there are those who would avenge your foe, then the vicious cycle continues... What point is there to cause so much destruction when, by avenging someone, you intended to end it?"

"But I want to destroy! I want to kill every single one of those humans. Only then can we laguz live peacefully... Without them."

"Then I have nothing to say to you... You who claims to fight for the betterment of laguz when he actually forces his men to drink that vile Feral potion. You're a fake towards your very own beliefs... The worst hypocrite of them all. For all my brother and sister laguz, I must get rid of you."

"Can you, pathetic slave, or will I be the one to consume your worthless hide?"

"We shall see."

Tonerk leapt towards Muarim with his claws outstretched, and the tiger was quick to return the favor...

As the two tore each other's flesh, the land below was covered in blood.

Laguz and Beorc collapsed on the ground from exhaustion and from severe injuries. The battle had gone too far. Each nation involved had scores of casualties... Countless hawks, Crimeans, Begnionians, and Gallians would never see their families again. Each hero and heroine of the Mad King's War who fought on that day was wounded. If Muarim failed in this fight, Tonerk would very well have the victory he so badly wanted.

Ike, Gatrie, and Boyd's great muscles failed them, and as they collapsed they could see the two laguz fighting high above them. Ike smirked. Muarim was a good man, a warrior of honor. if he claimed that he'd defeat Tonerk, there was no reason to doubt that Tonerk would no longer be alive... But how many of them would have to fall before the green tiger was victorious?

Tonerk's claws tore through Muarim's back as he leapt over the tiger. All his hatred for the beorc was intensified when he saw how this pathetic weakling stayed so loyal to them even though he'd been tortured so extremely.

Muarim here was an insult to all laguz, and it would be fitting to kill him right here, in front of those other fools who would kiss the feet of humans.

A laguz is brave, powerful, and, in some cases, wild. He should never refuse a fight, unless he is severely wounded. Honor should only be put into application when the opponent is truly worthy of it, otherwise a laguz ought to hunt his prey like a true predator. Mercy for a weaker organism never applies, unless this "prey" was actually a worthy opponent who only turned out to have slightly lesser abilities than the laguz himself. Laguz are mighty beasts who never show sensitivity or weakness, unless they are female.

But Muarim was so different. Those humans tamed him. They made him so weak, so uncertain, so indecisive. It was laughable, really, but at the same time it was insulting that Muarim called himself a laguz. What right did he have to those claws and to those burly muscles? He did not deserve these traits of a predator. No, Muarim was merely a deer with hard hooves, that's all.

Tonerk dived in for the kill. His claws were ready to tear Muarim's spine out of his back and thus kill that pathetic tiger instantly, but Muarim was ready for him. The moment before his claws reached the tiger's back, Muarim lifted his head and clamped down on Tonerk's foreleg.

The cat let out a screech and tried to flee, but the tiger rammed his clawed paw into its cheek. As Tonerk landed on the ground with a thud, Muarim raised his paw to crush his skull, but Tonerk used his better leg to claw Muarim's face in an attempt to gorge out his eyes.

Muarim howled, but as Tonerk tried to move in for another strike, he felt a swish on his neck. The tiger, in desperation, struck him at a vital area, and Tonerk felt his throat begin to fill with liquid.

And, at that moment, the one who hated death and destruction caused the bloodiest kill in that entire battle. Tonerk collapsed, his body covered in red, and Muarim, seeing the remaining rebels begin to scatter or fight obsessively and desperately, lost consciousness and fainted.

--

There was no glory when the battle was won.

Gallia had defeated its rebels, but at the same time these warriors slaughtered their countrymen. Wayward or no, these rebels were also Gallian. These rebels were brothers and sisters who merely took the wrong path. Now, with so many casualties, it would take generations for these wounds to heal.

The Greil Mercenaries and their Crimean and Phoenician comrades collected their wounded. Thousands of hawks and white-armored beorc could hardly move, having fought till their last breath. Just as many, if not more Begnion warriors were also severely wounded. General Sigrun of the Begnion Holy Guards arrived to take Senator Valtome into custody, and as she left she made sure to have medics take the wounded warriors back to their country to be healed, though they'd also be dammed.

The Crimean army returned home, and the Greil Mercenaries returned to their fort. Standing side by side, looking back at the vast forest of Gallia, Lucia turned to Soren.

"We have our duties, and we cannot fail them. You must care for Ike, and I must care for my sister."

"Lucia, you know the task we have at hand too well, it seems. But promise me this, when her majesty stabilizes her throne and when Crimea and Gallia can stand once again, let me look into your eyes once more."

The woman smiled. The burden on her shoulders was heavy, but at least he could emphasize with her. "I will, Soren... And you should do the same, when Ike can finally manage without you..."

"No, I wouldn't make a promise that I wouldn't return. I will return to you, if it so happens that Ike manages to settle things before her majesty Elincia. Regardless, let us ensure our next meeting..."

"Yes, let's."

"Farewell, Lucia. May Ashera smile upon you."

"Good bye, Soren. I pray that fate will smile upon you as well."

They turned, and slowly trudged away from each other: to the people for whom they dedicated their lives.

--

Spring and summer came and went, and as the fall leaves sprinkled the ground, Lyre sat on her boulder close to the Crimean border, thinking of that tiger. After killing Tonerk, Muarim left for Grann Desert. He felt ashamed that he had to soil Gallia's beautiful soil with blood, so he decided to return to Tormod's side and help him restore the Laguz Emancipation Army.

But somehow, Lyre was sure that they'd meet again...

It just happened much sooner than she expected.