There's a statement in this chapter regarding dragons and a 'white lie' told by the original party, and I'm not making up the accusation used against Felix here. Camelot included Mindreads into Prox after the Doom Dragon battle (despite having only Isaac and Felix), but they can only be accessed by use of an Emulator (I think that's how anyways). Anyone interested can feel free to PM or e-mail me and I'll gladly send you the link to those screenshots. Most are kinda cute, actually.

Thank you very much for sticking through to the end. I hope you enjoy reading this epilogue as much as I did planning it.

-Sunny

Epilogue

Deus Ex Machina?

It was Ivan who finally found him, an hour, maybe two after he finally emerged from the cave and collapsed. He'd given them all a scare it seemed, had been gone for several hours, it was full daylight and nearly noon by the time he was even found. Ivan was visibly white as he and two Shamans helped half-carry-half-drag Felix back to the village. He was to learn shortly after that Ivan, Hamma, Sheba, and any other competent or semi-aware adepts had seen and heard more than a few strange sights, ghosts one could say, escaping from the sealed entrances to the mountain.

And they were, all, sealed.

He stayed for two more weeks in the Shaman Village. No one knew quite what to think of him, least of all himself. His time was taken up by debates and meetings still, though of a different nature than before. Half were just determining whether or not he was going to be treated as a criminal for what he'd done to their precious sanctum. He said even less over those weeks than he had in the rest of the time he'd stayed with them.

The villagers were outraged with him, and he didn't blame them for it- even the old Fortune Teller. Omata behaved himself extremely well, so the duty of persecuting Felix fell almost completely to his daughter- Ikata. It seemed even women could become Fortune Tellers amongst the Shaman, it was better than forcing things onto the small boy in the family instead.

His desecration had awoken many, but not all, of the afflicted villagers. Of the un-afflicted, everyone had been able to see and hear the rumbling of the mountain, and there was a good deal of shattered stone and uprooted riverbed to account for. By the time he had emerged and the last stones settled the death count had reached eight; thirty by dusk. He wasn't in any condition to go about asking grieving families when or what they'd drawn in the cave to correspond to the dead ones, and it only would've enflamed the situation even more if he'd still tried. He didn't get any sympathy from the others either.

"How could you have acted so carelessly?" Hamma was the worst. "All of those people; and all at once!"

He mentioned to her that it would've taken a combination of a strong hold on Weyard, a weak grasp from the cave, and a relatively short time in coma for them to be able to spiritually and physically recover. All of which were the same between those who had survived. She herself had noted that most of the survivors had held notable traces of Psynergy in them.

"They were my responsibility, Felix. All of them."

No, they'd been Omata and Moapa's responsibility. If the Fortune Teller hadn't kept information under a vow of silence –excluding even Moapa - then things might've ended differently.

"Do you enjoy infamy?" And what did she mean by that? "First Vale, and now here in Hesperia, is nothing sacred to you? Even if you didn't believe in it as they did, Felix, why -oh why?- did you have to go and do something reckless like that?!"

Unfortunately, to that question he had no answer. It would've been too difficult and awkward to explain; and there was no guarantee Hamma would either listen or care to hear it anyways. Keeping his silence, he finished arranging his belongings in his pack. He was getting ready to leave when she said the one thing he'd been expecting the whole time.

"Isaac would have handled it differently."

"Perhaps." He answered sternly. "But he would have had to've felt obligated to come first." She didn't like that answer, but took a moment to respond as he belted the Sol Blade to his hip.

"What do you mean? You make it sound like he didn't care." He only looked to her, watching some slow realization come to her eyes.

"You came alone because…?" Ah, there, something connected.

"Isaac and I quarrelled and I left on foot. The argument itself is immaterial." He was decidedly blunt as he spoke, he had his pride. Bundling up the last of his things, he slung the travel pack up onto his back and faced her properly.

"Immaterial?" She seemed surprised, "How is it anything but that? We were clearly asking for help… Did something happen to my letters? No? Then… Felix, tell me the truth of the matter; I need to know."

"That too is immaterial, Hamma. People are drawn to heroes, and when they choose theirs, that's it. That's the only truth which means anything, and it's useless to fight it anymore than I have already." He moved past her, though she was blocking the way out for the most part.

The summer had ended by every calendar now, the misty pre-dawn light of autumn flickering in through the windows of Moapa's home. Hamma quickly had one hand on his sleeve, and he looked at her for an explanation for delaying him. He wasn't angry, or even annoyed. He just wanted to know what she wanted.

She couldn't seem to put the words together though, her other hand gripping that woven shawl tightly in front of her. His apathy was gone from him; he felt sympathy for her instead. She wouldn't look at him properly until he nudged her chin up slightly with one hand.

"Hundreds died because of what I did in Vale, causing tidal waves and eruptions around the world." He said, silently detesting the martyr-air to his words, but bluntness had its limitations. "And if this place is any sign; thousands more will go that way now that Alchemy has been released. That cave isn't going to be the only relic of the Lost Age…" It was a reality he'd come to grips with long ago, seeing the aftermath of the destruction in Indra, small fishing villages in ruins, and the dead set out in baskets for the ocean to claim. "It's easier to blame than to understand, Hamma. Vale is willing to cast theirs on the Mars Clan, let the Shamans do the same to Venus and spare Yegelos the grief…"

His goodbyes to everyone else were less difficult. Sheba broke her irate silence with him and even gave him a hug and well wishes for his journey back to the East. If Ivan and Hamma had words before the goodbyes, there was little sign of it; the younger man hesitating only briefly before clasping hands with him. No one mentioned Isaac outright, but he was given letters for the others in Vale. Everything was done in quiet private, even his thanks to Moapa's household for providing for him during his stay.

He left with the dawn, the only time he could get away without causing too much ruckus for showing his face in the village. He wasn't challenged once across the great bowl, but could feel the eyes of the nation watching him closely even after he vanished into the caves leading out into the Hesperian wilderness.

He struck East through the forests and over marshes, and at a small, coastal village made use of a seal and token given to him by Moapa. It allowed him to barter for passage across the ocean in one of the last seasonal longboats set to leave Hesperia for Angara. They weren't Shamans, but were very close culturally and politically; Moapa had told him how to find their settlement before setting out from the Shaman bowl.

The stormy winter months had settled over the continent by the time the longboat fleet finally reached the shores; Loho's stony walls invisible in the sheeting rain and snow. Felix'd never felt more sick in his life as he had for that crossing, and swore never to repeat the process or wonder how they hadn't all drowned in the high waves. The first snows had already iced the top of every mountain, and swallowed up every mine shaft.

Only fools tried to cross Angara's Western Mountains in winter. Dead fools. In Loho he stayed…

When the first signs of the thaw began to appear, he wasn't as happy as he should've been. In fact he wasn't happy at all… He sent a messenger to Vale instead of going himself, bearing the letters from Hamma, Ivan, and Sheba, as well as one explaining his extended absence. His mother would be happy to know he hadn't been forced to winter over in Hesperia, but on the main continent instead. A barrier of mountains suited the family better than one of ocean. The reasons ought to've been obvious.

He said he felt he ought to stay a few more weeks in Loho and help the people who had helped him over the winter. He told them the good weather brought more orders and jobs than the little forge could handle short-handed. Enclosed was part of what he'd earned that season, something to help the family with their portion of the reconstruction.

Never they mind that once the mineshafts opened up, Loho's standing population dropped and business in Owen's forge dribbled down to a standstill. It was a month-long trek; he'd rather wait for the rest of the snow to melt first…

"Hmmph... This's interestin'… Eh… Ey! Felix! Lad, c'mere a minute!"

Mid-Spring might've been only days in coming, but there was still snow up there!

He'd gotten used to both the forge, and the man he worked for. The heavy blacksmith had made good on a promise from two seasons earlier. And since it gave him food and a bed all throughout the alternatively rainy and snow-filled winter; Felix did his best to meet the older man's expectations.

He was surprised to find that he enjoyed the work too, even with the sleet and the snow and the rain outside, maybe even more when the weather turned foul like that. It was patient work, rhythmic but satisfying at the same time. His thoughts never drifted very far, and even when they did, nothing they touched on really hurt the same anymore. He didn't need to work himself into complete exhaustion to fall asleep; he maybe even slept better now than he had during his summer in Hesperia.

The dreams didn't come anymore, or if they did he either didn't remember them, or slept right through them from beginning to end. No more waking up in cold sweats, running endlessly through corridors and passage ways, always towards nothing and still away from nothing. Instead he'd even found himself waking up with faint memories of pleasant dreams, happier memories, maybe even fanciful things he didn't put any stock in having happen in reality. His dreams didn't have to come true; he was happy just having them again. Peacefully.

He gave two more pushes on the bellows as he was called, walking over to the water pump and splashing his face and arms free of coal dust and sweat. He was tucking the heavy gloves into the belt of his leather apron as he finally stepped out into the business section of the forge. A wall of stones separated the two halves- display cases, and the trading counter were all kept in the front, the ovens, raw materials, and heavy money box stashed in the back where he spent most of his time working and cleaning up.

"Yeah?" There was only one customer in the shop now, clearly a traveler. Her hood was drawn up high over her head and shadowed her face, arms folded sternly across her chest, and she was tapping one booted foot impatiently on the floor. Owen was leaning over the counter, looking down at something when Felix appeared. He ignored the look the customer gave him; waiting for the heavier man to turn and show him what was what.

"Here, take a look at this." He said at last, straightening up and handing a rumpled piece of paper to him. A custom job? He'd surprised himself to find that he liked those tasks best.

Even if it was just a set of special cooking knives for the inn, or a spade with a detailed handle at the top, there was something to it. Practical and strong were fine qualities; the most important actually, but he knew the satisfaction of wielding a weapon with that extra flair and flourish. Owen had been right about that too- being a swordsman helped him greatly in the work here, at least with taking pride in it.

"So, y'say you came here to us specifically?" The blacksmith preened, causing Felix to roll his eyes from behind. He was smiling as he actually looked down at the drawings, but his expression fell immediately.

"Where'd you say you were from, little lady? Tolbi- no? Come now, you were all talkative a minute ago. Vault perhaps?"

"We can't make this." Owen bungled his little flirt before turning around and staring at him, but Felix couldn't be swayed, tossing the detailed sketches of an ebony scythe back onto the counter. The details of the traveler's outfit jumped out at him- the fur lining of the hood and cloak, the thick cloth of tunic and trousers, the dragon pin at her throat. "This's a Proxian design, better left to Proxian smiths."

He turned away and found a face full of fire. There was nothing he could do about it- it came too fast, the lash of Psynergy startling to his mind which hadn't felt anything of the sort all season.

"By Mars!" He heard the small bell over the forge door chime as it was opened, Owen's oath not making much of an impact as Felix held one hand over his face. He hadn't been burned, but the skin felt hot under his own touch. Had that just been-?

"Seven lives left you insufferable prick." He cursed the spring sunshine- she stood in the door for only a moment when he turned to her in shock. But the forge door just slammed shut so hard he could've sworn he heard something in it snap, or jangle out of place. It didn't matter. Owen was blowing himself up into such a fit that his new moustache was curling along the edges; Felix was stunned silent by what had happened.

He almost killed himself getting out of the forge so fast. Owen was still blundering on trying to answer the question of what the customer had looked like, his hands up on the sides of his head to imitate long, pointed ears. The smith was shouting after him as he left- something about grabbing his things before going, or what in Mars's name he was doing, but Felix didn't answer- couldn't answer.

He couldn't see her, the spring had taken most of the miners out and away from Loho, but there were still enough people in the colony to crowd the streets at mid-day. The brisk sunshine was too harsh to see far, the stones bouncing the light back at him and into his eyes. There was nothing for it then; he just had to find her.

Gravel and half-cobble tried repeatedly to slide and slip under him, only his own innate sense of the landscape keeping him on track as he darted quickly down the lanes of grey stone. Every inn, he checked every single inn. There were several in town; most he'd never entered. It took him the better part of an hour to reach them all, each time staying for no more than a minute or two.

"Traveler? Like what?" A woman with a dragon pin at her throat. "Woman alone?" He wasn't sure; she might've had at least one companion. "Sorry, lad."

It was ridiculous on so many levels, running himself sick through the township, but he wasn't going to give up. Even if he was completely wrong, he was going to find whoever she was; if only to just tell her off for requesting a weapon better left unmade…

When he came to the small inn where he'd been rooming the entire winter, the innkeeper, Leslie, looked up and at him curiously. He didn't come with any measure of grace, stumbling in like the dead but still trying to put urgency in his steps. His lungs were on fire and he had a painful stitch in his side from running, but the inn's mistress just watched him curiously. Normally he would work much later than this, and would take the time to walk instead of running back to his room…

"Felix?"

"Traveler… woman… dragon pin…" Oh, Venus, he needed a break. Bending over he didn't even know if he was making sense or not, putting one hand down on his knee as he tried to make the air stop hurting as he sucked it in… there… slowly getting better…

"Hmm? You mean that young lady who just checked in?" His expression answered her, his head snapped right up so hard he almost thought he felt a joint pop. Had he just heard her right?

"Had several odd questions t'ask 'fore she put down any money for the night. Fancy that, foreign girl like her traveling all alone! Looked northern with 'er-" Leslie kept talking, Felix stopped listening; there was nowhere farther north than Prox, not a single hamlet, cottage or borough.

He was looking to the stairs even as Leslie kept talking, not trying to be rude, but staying put only to make sure he didn't make her mad at him. Was that a… candle? No, wait, it…

"Felix? Where're you-?" It was fire; a small, solitary little flame. And even before he set his foot down on the first step, he knew there was no wick or wax or wooden post standing underneath it to give it substance. It was all too much like a dream: but he knew for a fact that he was well and truly awake. He couldn't hope to imagine something twisted like this on his own, there was just no way.

Whatever the inn mistress had wanted to say, she let it die and went back to her work, grumbling lowly behind him. He took the steps slowly at first, hurrying up the flight only to watch the flame vanish and then reappear. He was standing in the narrow hall of the second floor now, and everything was suddenly very quiet…

Each slow, careful step he took made that tiny flame edge back just as far. Small and golden, giving off a flicker of red as it licked gently at the air. It wavered, it wasn't perfect, but its retreat was smooth as he followed. He was led right along to the only room with its door left ajar. If he'd blinked he might've missed the faint bit of movement just beyond, that one eye wavering in the curtain of heat, but he didn't.

The flame vanished through that tiny crack, and he knew it'd already gone out as he reached one hand out and nudged the door open with the back of it. It didn't swing silently, gave a small creak instead and got stuck part way. Having to actually push it open helped break through some of the anxiety, cut away at some of the tension…

"You've got no right to look so surprised." But not all- never all. "Idiot."

Her room had a larger window than his did, complete with a wide sill on the wall directly across from the door; that was where she was seated. One knee drawn up, her other leg left to hang towards the floor. She had one arm hooked over her knee, facing out through the bubbled glass towards the lively streets below. The harsh light still obscured her face, but her voice was clear to him, striking memories and bringing the past to life in his mind. The strands of her hair shimmered with the gloss of red apples; and the short, alien cut of bobbed locks had faded with time, melding back into the long tresses he remembered from three years of ice.

"I'm sick of being told I'm dead. Don't start." She dropped her legs, turning to stand and face him. There was nothing flashing in her eyes as she stepped away from the stark light, the lines of her face forming quickly, but not perfectly anymore. There was a long mark stretching across her brow, but hadn't come close enough to her left eye to disfigure it. Even from a distance he could see a scar of white against the underside of her jaw leading down to the throat. She bore the marks of her battles, the same as she wore the pointed red designs of her clan under her eyes and along her cheeks.

"How did you..?" She'd been waiting for him to speak, he knew it, but that didn't mean he could come up with anything meaningful. His arms were numb as he swung the door shut behind him; it closed much easier than it had opened…

"The same way you did." She snapped; her face grew tense as her brows pulled together, making the scar across her brow glow white. "If it hadn't been easier to just run off and lie, you might've known that." The words bit and held- the feeling in his legs followed after that of his arms.

"We said that…"

"A dragon had killed us; that's what you said." She cut in again, just as sharply as before. "That we were nothing more than blood on the walls, bits of chiselled bone. You didn't come back, Felix, so no one did."

Everything should've been so surreal, with a drowsy, dreamlike quality to it. Instead, there was nothing he could think of to take away from the sharp, brisk reality of the world around them. Every flaw and feature was glaring up at him from the floors to the walls to her hair- roughly sanded patches of grey-green wood, wrinkles in the stale bedding; the peeling of paint along the sill, the scuffs and cracks along the leather binds of her belt. Her clothing was practical but lacked finer quality- fraying threads along her dark tunic and undershirt, uneven stitching along the high collar under her chin.

"But you survived!" He found his voice, found something to make himself move, if only just a step closer. There was still the whole room between them. "You're alive, you made it back-"

"We crawled back." It wasn't the words that put a clamp on his thoughts, or any gestures she made with her hands balled up into fists. There was a hitch in her voice instead, and a look in her eyes that… was that shine from the light of the window, or something else? "Agatio and I both, we had to drag ourselves home…" Painful memories, he wasn't the only one who carried burdens and had overcome trials. Not only Vale had made sacrifices.

"Not one of you ever owned up to it either." He didn't speak, only watched her. Somehow the distance shrank again, but whether she stumbled forward a step or he slid his feet, he wasn't really sure. He couldn't even entertain the thoughts of dreams or imagination- it was too unreal to be false.

"Two years," She was shaking her head, eyes closed for a moment as if trying to wrap her mind around the idea, only to open them again and be staring into the far corner of the room. "Two years: and not one word. Not a letter, not a message, not any sign at all that you were going to come clean and tell them what really happened."

"You've been waiting for that?" He'd only accepted it himself… not long ago. And even then he'd had three years of contact pressuring him into acceptance. He couldn't speak for Isaac and the others exactly, but he couldn't see them having the same difficulties or coming to the same conclusions as he had…

"I didn't." She piped up quickly, "I hadn't been… I wasn't…" Hesitation? "Not until the summer, at least."

He shocked her completely. He had his hands on her shoulders, holding her arms. He didn't know if she had time to get angry at the contact, looking up at him in unabashed shock before her lips tried to curl back in a snarl.

"Which summer?" He spoke strongly, no argument from her, no bickering or fighting. She'd said her part it was his turn now.

"What do you think you're-!?"

"Which summer!?" He spoke right over her, giving her a shake- not too hard, just enough to make her look at him, bring those crimson eyes back up to his. "This one past? Tell me!"

"Yes! Just this year- let go!" She said that, but instead of fighting to get away she reached out instead, grabbing the front edges of the leather apron he still wore from the forge. He didn't try to force her gaze again, knew it wouldn't be any use- she kept her eyes fixated on her hands instead.

"I… I got sick…"

"How?"

"I don't know- I woke up in the Sanctum-"

"You were asleep?" He didn't need her to answer, he knew already. The pieces slipped into place one after the other, not locking, but fitting too perfectly not to be correct.

"Coma, I…" He cut her off: she hadn't grown any taller since they'd parted ways in Prox three years earlier- after three more cycles of enmity. He was still a hand-span above her, but it was like another set of pieces when he felt how she just fit against him in his arms. No one ever noticed or remembered how small she was in stature. But again, nothing locked; he felt her tense so much he knew she was going to pull away.

"There was ice…" He said softly, he'd felt her moving to push against him, but she stopped at his words. "Walls of blue ice that shattered to reveal only cold stone and water…"

She wasn't looking up at him, rather to the side at nothing; he fancied he could feel colour draining slowly from her features as her strength wilted. Something in his words striking truth and stilling her, if only for the moment. With one arm behind her shoulders and a hand along her back, he felt her start to slump, knees weakening. There was the memory of something haunting her as she silently shook her head from side to side.

"That was just a dream…" She whispered hoarsely. "That didn't really happen…" He kept his peace, if only for a moment. She didn't slide to the ground or fall into a faint, but the tension had lessoned, one hand curled and the other spread open across his shoulder, no more resistance, no more anger.

"The lighthouse was cold, and all the fires put out." She closed her eyes so tightly when he spoke, shaking her head again and doing well to silence him by leaning against him, letting her face rest just under his chin. It wasn't quite an embrace, but at least he wasn't forcing her to him as he could –slowly- let his face down and brush the side of his face down into her hair.

"It was just a dream…" She smelt of traveling and mountain air… "I was dreaming…" But so warm… He tried to coax her eyes up, slowly, gently… And then Proxian Pride reared its ugly head- and she broke out of his arms so fast he nearly fell over.

"What makes you think-" She began all over again, starting in on a new tirade at least as she marched off with her back to him, "That I can forgive that!? What you did! What you refused to do!" He couldn't say her name to call her back, but he could still follow. Her voice sounded thick to him, and he didn't have to ask her to know it was more pride forcing the words out than simply anger.

If he felt childish she better have too. He reached unthinkingly to turn her face towards him again, only to have her hand come up and bat his away. He tried again and she did the exact same thing. Frustrated, the third time he caught the offensive hand by the wrist and proceeded to pull her arm and turn her around, tempted to grab at her ear if she continued to fight with him but settling instead for placing his hand to hold her chin rudely- thumb and forefinger on either side and forcing her head around. She was indignant, but faced him.

"You son of a-!" He didn't let her go completely but kept his grip on her wrist and moved his hand from a grasp on the chin to merely a hold on one side. That she didn't reach out to strike or claw at him with her free hand spoke volumes at the moment. The shine in her eyes had forced the rims to turn a furious red.

"Then why are you here?" Again, he spoke right over her. Not shouting, not angry, he didn't counter what she said about his parentage or stray off into an argument with her. When his question got through, she pinched her lips tightly and refused to answer.

"You went to Vale first, didn't you?" She might've answered that one, her eyes roamed away from him. And he could see her tongue twisting over itself as she rolled her shoulders and tried to turn away- he just brought her face right back around to him with a gentle nudge. He took that as a yes…

He stepped closer to her again, her free hand coming up to squeeze his as he let his fingers slide from her face. He let go of her wrist in favour of holding her hand instead… And again, he asked her…

"Then why are you here?" She lowered her eyes and he didn't stop her this time.

"Because…" She had to stop and take a breath, holding it a moment before letting it out slowly. She was looking down at their hands, and distantly he remembered the last time he had truly heard her voice- echoing through a link of violet energy, channelled through several minds before reaching him… Her hands were warm again.

"Because you were there…" In the cold, in the dark; standing on the other side of the veil… He didn't pull her in this time- eyes closed as she slid her hand from his and came right up close to him. She felt so warm when he held her.

"And what if it was 'just a dream'?" He hated himself for asking, and she wasn't too impressed either, her arms hooked under his for a moment before she let out a sharp breath and pulled away from him again. But this time it wasn't a push and a shout.

"Then I'll take my order and leave…" The scythe…

"Well you won't be getting it from me..." He was watching her closely now, feeling cold already where she had touched and then pulled back so abruptly…

"Then I won't be leaving." And that suited him just fine, and he said as much… still watching, unable to come up with much more to follow his statement as she was still so… far away… and she noticed the distance too, looking him up and down in return before folding her arms with a sour look.

"If you're not going to rave about death and dreams, at least be happy to see me." Happy to see her…

Her voice had been harsh, a challenge he couldn't meet with fists and power. If she expected him to offer words and speak, then he surprised her. But he saw her arms unfold and then felt her gloved touch on the sides of his face and throat, and she didn't allow him to 'sweep' her off her feet, so maybe he was just predictable.

Yet the pieces each locked into place around him, a resounding click in his heart like that of a lock being picked and broken. Logic and longing collided, and warmth flooding him without any trace of Mars or Alchemy to be had. That heat gave him life, and he'd never let it go again… He'd never let her go again…

Because it wasn't a dream…

The End

-Roll Credits-

Title: Painted Dreams

Genres: Hurt/Comfort/Mystery

Main character(s): Felix

Length: 1 Prologue, 10 Official Chapters, 1 Epilogue, 55988 Words, 178 Paper Back Pages, 89 Computerized Pages.

Review Count: 25

Inspirational Artists: Hans Zimmer (Brave Heart, The Last Samurai, The Peacemaker, The Rock, Pearl Harbour, The Contender OSTs), Sarah McLachlan (Felicity OST), Loreena Mckennitt (The Ancient Muse, Book of Secrets, The Mask and Mirror), Motoi Sakuraba (Golden Sun OST), Evanescence (Origin, Debut CDs), Harry Gregory-Williams (Kingdom of Heaven OST), Celtic Woman (Scarborough Fair), And countless, countless others… (Koapno III, True, The Reason, What You Are, Into the Ocean, Ivory Tower, Live Again, Darcy's Letter…)

Published: November 28th, 2007

Completed: February 17th, 2008

First Revision: October 31st/November 1st, 2008 (Midnight-readings)

Thank you.