Author's Note

Just wanted to say sorry I take forever to do updates it's just some days I can plough through writing like I'm addicted the next I get bogged down by procrastination. In the meantime if you do get bored while waiting for me to hammer out another chapter why not check out my other fanfictions? I currently started a Walking Dead one after I finished reading the comics. Although be warned that it will have even slower updates than this as I really try to focus all my writing time on this.

A big thank you as always because this has been going since 2009 and people are still sticking with it! That makes me one happy bunny. :)

Disclaimer

I don't own Final Fantasy XII. I do own Edie, my OC.

I don't take credit for the hymn used as it's obviously the Hymn of the Fayth from FFX. I wanted to use it because it's such a beautiful hymn. If you've never heard the fan cover by youtuber katethegreat19 I strongly suggest you go watch it, it's such a wonderful version!

Chapter XXXVIII: Holy water cannot help you now, see I've come to burn your kingdom down.

If he had heard the promise I snarled at him he gave little indication and merely stood there, the Gran Kiltias crumpled and still at his boots. The once sweet air of the nave was being soiled by scents of smoke, scoured earth and blood. It fed my rising fury. I shifted my grip on the spear, whipping it round so I was stood in a battle-ready stance.

"Marishka, let us not be rash. My shot is strong though I fear it will do little against his armour and skill." Al-Cid warned lowly and with a quick tongue so the foe before us wouldn't catch snatches of his words.

"Then stay back and out of the way. I'm going to show him how strong the power of man really is." I muttered, jaw tight, eyes narrowed with intent and never straying from the armoured threat in front of the altar.

I strolled forward.

"Yes, do come meet your fate, girl. Like a babe to the slaughter. Only then shall you bear witness that your gods offer no solace in your final breaths and that you were thus foolish to shun true power." He chuckled, his free hand outstretched in invitation.

I walked on, shoulders held ridged, heart smouldering with hate. Never in my life had I ever wanted to make another person suffer so much as I did now. I felt the escalating heat of my loathing burn into a brighter blaze. The air surrounding my form became dry, rippling heat-waves blurring my edges. The fiery temperature was pulsing through me, its power coiled tight and intense like the heartbeat before an explosion. The Judge noticed, his attention suddenly snared by the magicks. I paused a distance from him, heat raining from me.

Belias, come.

The beast rushed from me in a raw flash. He stretched to his full height at my side, spear in hand. Out of the corner of my vision I noticed Al-Cid and his maid had their heads tilted back to take in the towering bulk of muscle beside me.

'What would you wish of me?' His deep growl rumbled through my head.

"Help me destroy him."

'As you do bid.' He nodded before lurching forward in a mass of ferocity and fire.

The sound of the hall's entrance being dragged open was followed with the clatter of heavy armour in motion, steel singing in a chorus as swords were hastily drawn. Whatever was left of the Bergan's entourage had just flooded into the Hall of Light.

"I will keep them at bay." Al-Cid called, turning and taking aim at the newer threat.

With Belias clashing against Bergan and Al-Cid battling the rest, I bowed my head and drew up magicks to keep them from harm, to feed their strength. I drew up each spell quickly only pausing in my aid to rattle off the odd blast of fire or ice to keep the two Rozarrians from being swarmed by the Empire's soldiers.

A feral roar ripping through the air caused my head to snap round to look upon the Gigas. A gaping gash snaked slantways across his chest, the wound spilling blood and showing the muscle that lay beneath. They stood apart for an instant before colliding once more, sword and spear, armour and fire. The motion seemed to aggravate the cut and it wasn't long before his mane and broad torso was red with his own blood. I pushed a curative spell upon him, the magicks binding his open flesh. He swiped at Bergan with a large clawed hand.

As expected the Judge was accomplished in battle and yet I couldn't help but marvel at his strength as he seemed to match the Giga's blows with ease. The Mist was fast flowing around him, though there were no spells supporting his body- how could such strength solely be his own? I decided I'd best act before he began to gain the upper hand. I flung fire magicks at him, wanting to heat the metal of his armour so it would singe his surcoat and sear his flesh. I wanted to melt that helm of his while it still decorating his arrogant head. The very thing that protected him, the armour that he had no doubt spent countless years of toil to claim was going to be the death of him. Belias swiftly switched his attack, belting out that almighty hellfire so it could lend its heat to my own onslaught.

I awaited his howls of pain yet instead the Mist around him became all the more charged. It seemed to absorb the powerful blitz licking at his armour, diminishing its devastating power before irradiating it entirely in a soul shaking surge. The Gigas snarled in anger at the trick. He backed up a few steps so that his frame would shield me from any sudden attacks from our enemy. I peeked past him, my hands flinching into vices around the bamboo of my spear.

"What was that?" I gasped, my eyes rapidly darting over the man stood calmly before us.

It was then I saw it, a ghostly apparition shadowing the Judge. I had seen it before when Mrjn was possessed by the nethicite. So this was the true power of man? To be a puppet to some sinister spectre?

"Belias, be careful! His strength isn't his own. Something's making him powerful."

'Good, a challenge.' He grunted before he sprang forward to lock weapons with the Judge once more.

I returned to raining down magicks upon our threat in a never-ending shower. Belias was too quickly losing ground to him. Nerves began to bite at my bloodlust. Shots echoed out at my back. Al-Cid was still warding off the wave of footmen. This wasn't good.

I whipped round deciding we couldn't keep up the stamina of taking on two enemies separately, back to back.

"My ammunition grows sparse!" Al-Cid hollered over the boom of a shot as I skidded to a stop at his side.

The maid offered forward another two rounds as he cracked open the gun. She was ducked behind him, no doubt he had shoved her back there to protected her further from the enemy's rain arrows and magicks. However, in the same instant he made his shot she stepped out from behind him and cast a fire spell upon the slowly falling horde. I quickly mirrored her. Armour glowed red, the smell of burnt hair and flesh perfuming the air in a foul incense.

"The Gigas?" He cracked open the gun's barrel again, his free hand flicking a section of hair from his eyes.

"He won't last long at this rate. Bergan's power is coming from manufacted nethicite. We have to hurry and attack him together!"

Another shot of flames I summoned caught one footman that was weaving through the rabble towards us square in his chest. Relying on simpler magicks was consuming too much time and I could already feel my body becoming weak thanks to my magickal stores being abused due to having to also pause in my magickal arsenal to heal. I wished I had that damn medic bag.

As Al-Cid quickly took out a soldier who had dashed forward with his sword swinging, I delved once more into the Mist, this time summoning a much more potent spell. The air in the midst of the mass crackled as a dark sphere rapidly began to swell. It expanded at such a rate that it engulfed most of the military men before just as quickly shrinking, leeching life from them as it went. It erupted in an implosion of darkness leaving in its wake more bodies littering the floor than standing.

"A gravity spell, impressive." He snapped out his hand in want for more bullets.

"No hay mas, mi señor.(There is no more, My Lord.)"

The remainder of the squadron rushed forward, swords raised.

"Estupendo.(Fantastic.)" He sighed, switching to magicks.

With that an immense roar racked with pain ripped through the din. I jerked my head round, breath stammering in my lungs. Bergan's sword was burrowed into the beast's middle. Belias folded to his knees, a low growl rattling out as he reached out a clawed hand to grip the blade. The black talons scratched shallow rivets in the metal as he sort his grip. He yanked it free not seeming to notice the blade was biting deep into his hand. His breathing was laboured, his chest heaving as more blood spilled upon the slate floor from his torn gut. He flicked the blade away from him with a twitch of his hand. I had never seen him so exhausted and beaten. He moved to rise yet his footing was compromised by the blood slick ground and he crashed to his knees once more, spearhead biting into the slate to stay him. Bergan's crack of laughter cut through the beast's rasping breaths.

"Ha! Wretched creature, allow me to end your suffering- break your bonds to your feeble master." He swung the twisted broadsword, swooping it up in an arc so it would hack at the thick chords of muscle that were masked by Belias' damp mane.

The blow landed with a crunch, the sword cutting into to curve of his neck. Belias cried out in bark of agony before summoning his remaining strength to swipe at his foe with his unmarred clawed hand. The Judge skittered back, rolling to a stop on the floor near the altar. His weapon still remained anchored in the Giga's neck.

"Beilas!" I dashed towards him.

He slumped forward further, his human hand that gripped the spear tightened its hold in hope to keep himself upright.

'Forgive me… I have failed you.' He managed to push out between unsteady intakes of air.

I stepped forward and gently placed a hand on his arm noticing how limply it hung at his side. I couldn't ask him to continue on, it would be the death of him and he hadn't yet served his true purpose- to fight for Ashe. Bergan was scrambling to his feet. Belias was gone in a swirl of heat, retreating back into me. The pole of my spear suddenly radiated a burning warmth. I glanced down to see my bamboo spear had shifted into his grander weapon.

'Slay the bastard with my spear in my stead.'

"I will."

I strode forward, putting myself between the Judge and his blood smeared sword that had fallen to the floor. I waited for him to draw closer before unleashing my attack. Nerves were scaling my bravado threatening to tear it down. I let out a shaky breath and whipped the spear round at him. The ornate yet hefty spearhead raked along the armour that decorated his shoulder as he attempted to swerve around me to get at his weapon. I tried to block his path once more only for him to bat me aside like I had been niggling bug. I stumbled, my boots desperately seeking grip on the blood slick slate. I flung a burst of fire at his exposed back yet the Mist around him lessened my attack once more. I charged at him, wanting to ram the spear's blade into his turned back. I was too late. As I brought down the weapon with all my power upon him he whirled round, broadsword warding off my spear. The crash of our weapons meeting was enough to throw me off my feet. I scrambled to keep my balance before quickly whipping away, a flash of fire as my cover. He didn't give me chance to slip away a good enough distance, quickly surging forward, sword sweeping in a deadly curve. I blocked the attack, the ash pole of Belias' spear juddering as it absorbed the blow.

There was no way I could keep this up. My arms were already tight and heavy from fending off his assault and as much as I endeavoured to put some distance between us he was too swift. He knew the close quarter combat was grating down my defence and my nerve. I scuttled back and away again yet he relentlessly kept hacking at the spear that was my only defence. I managed to get a few swipes in here and there but they did little to slow his maddened drive.

As spear locked against sword once more, I saw it- the ghoul feeding his power appeared in a creepy shadow, eyes glowing. What the hell was that thing? Bergan thrust his might against me with so much force that I staggered back, sword and spear finally parting. I moved to whack at him yet he effortlessly knocked my weapon aside, his blade flicking round to drag across the skin on my dominant arm. Pain erupted down my limb momentarily deadening it. I clutched at the pole with my remaining hand, lifting the spear to protect myself from another blow. His great sword came down with such strength that the fire-treated ash splintered and shattered, the heavy spearhead clanging to the floor. My eyes grew wide in fear, breath snagged in my throat. Such power!

His sword didn't pause in its assault as it artfully switched directions and swept down upon me in a blur. In a flash of panic I cast a protection spell though it did little against his seemingly ever growing strength. The jagged blade cut me from collarbone to rib in a diagonal slash, even managing to open up another gash on my already injured arm as it finished cutting its path. The force of the hit sent me spinning to the sticky slate. I slid along the ground, the momentum carrying a good few feet and scraping away skin from my uninjured arm, legs and cheek as I went.

I lay there a moment my mind alight but my body sluggish and not complying with any simple command I was screaming at it. I sucked in a breath only to cough and splutter, the coppery tang of blood dancing along my tongue. I heard Al-Cid's frightened voice shout that damn name. He must have moved to come to my aid as Bergan sent a devastating fireball into the air to rain upon them. A noise of dismay croaked from me.

It was then I caught a glimpse of it, the spearhead. It was no longer in the guise of the Giga's weapon and instead had reverted back to its normal form. The simple blade glinting dully in the orange light that illuminated the aisle thanks to Bergan's flare spell. I urged my body to move. It did though not without shuddering with a stinging pain that rampaged through my tightened chest. I coughed again, blood spilling from my lips.

Content Al-Cid was indisposed, the Judge returned his attention upon me as I continued to slowly drag myself across the aisle to the spearhead that lay against the decorative wall. He watched me struggle for a few long moments before leisurely pacing forward, sword held casually in one hand. His boot harshly nudged my hip so I was rolled onto my back, forced to look up at him. Though it caused pain to snap my movements short my fingers still blindly fumbled for what remained of my weapon.

"Now do you see of what I speak? Death is no gentle caress, no merciful touch that frees you from your woe. All who oppose the Empire and its foreseeable rule shall suffer it's clutches in a bloody end, beginning with you, my dear."

My fingers brushed against the cool of the spear's blade. I wrapped my fingers around it and inched it closer so I could get a better grip. With it finally in hand, my eyes ablaze with hate, blood-stained teeth bared, I thrust it up at him with a defiant jab.

"Fuck…you!" I managed to spit out in-between heaving agonised gasps.

I noticed how the charm Penelo had crafted danced furiously, swaying from side to side. An amused sneer rolled from his helm. My hand was trembling in effort to keep the scrap of metal aloft, the pain was becoming too much to bear.

He hoisted his sword above his head and smoothly brought it down to deliver the final blow. I flinched. The sword never found my battered body.

A harsh clang of steel ran out. Hands carefully pulled me back and away. I frowned, my mind numb thanks to the hurt still bombarding it and the loss of blood. Basch and Bergan were sealed in a stalemate. His axe had saved me from the Judge's deathblow. The others were hauling me back and away from the two warriors to sit me up against the wall framing the aisle.

"Nice.. timing.." My voice was thin, the exertion of talking bringing more blood up from my raw throat.

My cheery greeting went unacknowledged by Penelo who was knelt at my side as she hurriedly dug around in the medic bag. Basch parted from the Judge and moved back. Ashe stepped to his side.

"Ah, our vagrant princess." Bergan said, his attention flickering from the man who had interrupted his slaying to the young royal stood at his side. Her eyes were to the body that lay unmoving before the altar, her fists clenched. "Swift has your lust for revenge led you to the Sword of Kings. You will surrender it to me. Too late and to their sorrow do those who misplace their trust in gods learn their fate." He strode forward, the entity possessing him revealing itself in a ghostly swirl before just as swiftly fading. The Mist grew heavier and became visible, whorls of unnatural blues, blacks and greens blurring his armour.

"There it is again." Vaan gasped.

"Fran, I don't like the look of that." Balthier stated lowly to the companion at his side.

"This Mist- he holds a stone! It controls him as it did Mjrn!" Her ears were snapped forward, eyes wide in that spooked dear look that was only ever followed by trouble for our group.

"No." The Judge darkly laughed. "No, the power of manufacted nethicite is the power of man! A weapon forged by his wisdom who would challenge the gods themselves! A fitting blade for a true Dynast-King. Raithwall did but pretend the title. A cur begging nethicite scraps from his master's table. Hark! Ivalice hails her true Dynast-King, Vayne Solidor! He shall defy the will of the gods, and see the reins of history back into the hands of man. His time is nigh! The new Ivalice holds no place for the name Dalmasca." The hand that had been held out as he prattled on drifted to the grip of the smaller sword that hung from his belt. "The stain of Raithwall's blood will be washed clean from history's weave!" He roared, freeing the sword from its sheath.

Ashe drew her sword also, her eyes narrowed in a withering stare. The group quickly fell into their well-practiced formation.

I couldn't fight the light-headedness that was clouding my mind any longer and surrendered to unconsciousness, lolling to the side so I slumped on the slate floor on my uninjured side.

Penelo finally had located the item she sought. It was an elixir, a powerful healing potion. She fumbled to tug at the cork stopping it. The sound of slow dragging steps greeted her.

"Go to the aid of your group, they will be in need of a medic." Came a smooth voice, hitching now and then in hurt.

She sharply turned her head to snatch a glance and saw Al-Cid limping forward, supported by his maid who seemed unscathed.

"I can't leave her in this state, Lord Margrace!" She quickly returned her attention to her blood-splattered friend who lay bleeding on the floor, fussing over her.

"Worry not. I shall see to it she is mended." Penelo dithered. "Go. I will keep her safe."

She nodded and handed him two vials she had pulled from the leather satchel. He stooped to receive them and folded to his knees at the girl's side, the maid helping him before backing off a respectable distance. Penelo snatched up the medic bag and scampered off into the fray.

I woke with a gasp as my lungs were finally able to draw in a decent breath once more. A sour taste laced my mouth, a Phoenix Down had no doubt breathed life into me. My chest and arm no longer stung though a dull ache did lightly throb where the deep cuts had opened my skin. I blinked a few times, my eyes to the grand ceiling of the Hall of Light. I was on my back, my head being propped up by a hand gently cupping the back of it. Al-Cid knelt over me a trace of worry in his dark eyes.

The crash of swords suddenly jerked me from stupor. Judge Bergan was still warring with the others. I pulled myself up, my movements clumsy. I managed to get to a sitting position before Al-Cid grasped my shoulders to still me, shaking his head.

"The potion was strong, though I fear you are still weak. Be still."

"No! The others-" I squirmed in his clutches, ignoring the warning stabs of pain that were pricking my chest.

"Are apt enough to handle the matter. Please, Marishka, be still."

"I'm not bloody Marishka, get off me!" I weakly clawed at his hands, wanting them to loosen their hold.

"Then why did this upset you so?"

"A man was killed in front of us, how could I not be upset?" His look of concern deepened. My hands grew still as I suddenly realised as to why he was looking at me in such a way. Tears were beginning to slowly spill onto my cheeks. "He.. He was going to explain all of this mess… He… was going to help me." I said in a voice thick with grief.

"I am sorry, my dear." He moved to gently pull me into an embrace, my head tucking under his chin.

I clung to him as I tried to explain away the heartache that had suddenly engulfed me.

Bergan was soon slain. His battered body cracked and burst as that evil looking spirit fled from its host in a violent heave. I broke away from Al-Cid's arms. Though he didn't protest my getting up this time, he did softly weave his fingers around my wrist, causing me to pause. I looked down at him.

"When Larsa did ask me to meet with him here to discuss matters of this fast approaching war I had hoped so much that all the hearsay were true- that you were here- so that I could see you again. I had sought to convince you to return to Rozarria, hoping you would accept such invitation…" He sighed heavily, his eyes breaking from mine to look upon the altar where the Gran Kiltias still lay. "Sadly, that will not happen now. I played the fool to think as such." He chuckled forlornly.

"I'm sorry." I said quietly, unsure of just how to reply.

His fingers moved to take my hand, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on the back of it. Unlike when he had performed the act earlier with Ashe, there was no drama gracing his movements and no flurry of flattery to accompany it. His lips left my skin and his head dropped slightly as he breathed another dejected sigh.

"As am I." He looked up at me. "I should not have let such time pass to come for you. Perhaps another day, when all of this is done and gone, I will persuade you to return to me, pajarito." His hand left mine.

"What did you just call me?" I blinked, shock seizing me.

"Pajarito, little bird, because you sing so well." He explained. He hadn't missed my look of surprise as he went on to ask, "You do recall my calling you as such?"

"No. I guess I must have misunderstood you." I lied. I knew exactly what he had said and that he had called me this as a pet name. Jorge often had used the term of endearment and for the same reason. Jorge…

Al-Cid's voice caused me to once more shift my focus.

"Until time we do meet again." He brought his hand to his chest and dipped his head, once more back to his usual showy self.

"Cuidarse.(Take care.)" I returned, warmly.

"Y tu tambien.(You too.)"

I turned and staggered my way up the aisle slightly taken back how weak I still was. A glance down showed that angry pink slashes adorning my pale skin marked my arm and collarbone. I wasn't fully healed. I limped on taking in how defaced the once beautiful nave was. My eyes drifted up towards the statue, it too had taken a beating. One of its many outstretched arms had been hacked short. The Gran Kiltias was sprawled at its feet. He looked far frailer now, blanketed by his voluminous robes, his withered face serene even in death. Anguish began to beat within my heart all the harder.

"Edie!" Penelo ran to me a fretting frown in place. "You shouldn't be up, not until you're healed." She placed a hand on my shoulder in hope to still me. She noticed my eyes hadn't strayed from altar, the tell-tale tracks of spent tears that had cut through the dried blood and dirt decorating my face caused her to pause. She turned to look over her shoulder for a brief moment. "Here." She gently slinked an arm around my back and offered the other for support as she guided me to the altar.

I crumbled to my knees before the Gran Kiltias. My vision was blurring again with brimming tears that I didn't allow to fall. Why was I so upset? I hadn't known him. Penelo pushed a section of hair that was matted and damp with blood from my face. Her touch was tender and radiating with reassurance, it moved to my shoulder. My hand covered hers in thanks at such a gesture.

The faint echo of the other's footsteps stirred me to quickly wipe away the would-be tears by a clumsy swipe of the back of my hand. Ashe sunk down to one knee at my side.

"He set his very his very bones about him with nethicite." Balthier did inform us of the departed Judge with a tone of disgust as he approached. "The Gran Kiltias?"

Penelo shook her head, probably not wanting to say it aloud do to my sorrowful state that I was trying so desperately to keep under wraps. The last thing I wanted was a breakdown in front of my fellow travellers, especially when the reason as to why I was feeling such grief eluded me still. The young girl suddenly gasped and snapped her head round to look back at him.

"Wait- what about Larsa?"

"Gone. Spirited away by Judge Gabranth." Al-Cid was on his feet once more, his maid helping him shuffle towards us.

They turned. Vaan, Ashe and Basch quickly pacing off to meet him. Unable to walk any further, he slunk to the floor, the maid carefully assisting so he was sat with his back against the wall.

"So he was here." Basch muttered.

I hadn't seen the Judge when we had come across Larsa, perhaps he had securing the way upfront so Larsa would have a safe passage through the turmoil that had gripped the temple's grounds.

"As for our young lordling, he went along- to avoid trouble, you see. But Judge Bergan had other ideas. He flew into a rage and we were left to defend ourselves." Ashe took a step closer, stooping down. He turned his head. "Please, princess you must permit me to take you back with me to Rozarria."

"So that you can protect me?" Her voice was sharp. Knowing Ashe and her want to prove that she was capable she had probably found the offer to be belittling.

"I would lay down my life at a single word to be sure but I harbour no maundering delusions of valiant grandeur. Vayne has our war pavilion jumping at shadows. They favour for a pre-emptive strike. But you- you will convince them otherwise. You will see that they do not start this war."

Had this been the intention of his charm offensive earlier or had it come to plan when he and Larsa were discussing matters but a few hours ago? Either way, I knew to ask Ashe to do such a thing was pointless. She wouldn't accept, it wasn't a part of her grand quest and side tracking to deal with this would cost her precious time.

"This I cannot do. Forgive me. But my errand here is not yet done." She rose, determination set about her features "I must wield the Sword of Kings, and with it bring an end to the Dusk Shard."

Al-Cid pushed out a sigh tinged with disenchantment.

"This stone. Do you even know where it is?"

"I can venture a guess." Balthier's smooth voice rolled through the brief pause. He strolled towards them. "The Draklore Laboratory. In Archades. The Empire's weapons research begins and ends there." He stopped in front of Ashe. "How soon do we leave?"

"At once." She turned back to the Rozarrian at her feet. "As for matters in Rozarria, I bid you luck."

Al-Cid hauled himself up, his maid steadying him.

"So you would leave each to fend for his own. Let us hope you are not disappointed." He turned to hobble away yet he paused, a thought coming to mind. "Ah that's right. Larsa left a message. 'The difference between our lands will fade before the shared dream of men'." Though the last time I had come across Larsa he hadn't asked Al-Cid to relay such words it sounded very much like something the youth would say. He had no doubt mentioned this when they were together before the attack. Al-Cid plucked the pair of sunglasses that still hung from his maid's blouse and slipped them on before addressing the group once more. "My leave, I take." With that he limped off.

I knew I should have pulled myself to my feet and prepare to leave so that we could continue on yet I remained knelt at the Gran Kiltias' side. Approaching footsteps and the rustle of heavy robes caused me to finally lift my eyes from the body laid before me. Mikel, Clem and some of the Nu Mo approached. Mikel smoothly folded to his knees, his previous leg injury absent from his movements.

"I…"

I was at a loss as to what to say to him. This was my fault. I had gone about the whole ordeal in such a stupid way. If I had kept a level head instead of thoughtlessly charging at Bergan in hope to free his victim of his chocking grip the outcome could have been very different. Though the Judge clearly couldn't have been reasoned with, I could have easily had got him to refocus his madman antics on myself, riling him up so he would focus all that bloodlust on me instead. Not to mention I had committed the error of entering the battle with nothing more but anger fuelling me, the rashness pushing me call bad decisions and overestimate my own skill.

I turned my head to look upon the Gran Kiltias once more, frowning hard in hope to quell the waterworks which were starting up again.

"Now I do understand his last words to me. He did say, 'My dreams, too, fade into day.' He did dream his own end."

"And he said nothing? He.. He didn't even try to stop it." My voice was cracking in my attempt to keep the tears at bay.

"It must have been inevitable.. we are, after all, victims to fate."

I didn't buy that one bit. Dreams, fate and blind faith just didn't seem to cut it in this war.

"What will happen now?" I sniffed.

"He must be cleansed so that his spirit can meld with the Light. It is a sacred ritual performed only by the Gran Kiltias' disciples."

"I.. My group has to move on, to Archades."

"A Gran Kiltias only choses two disciples, they act as his followers, students and family. I fear I am not strong enough to perform the ceremony unaided, sister." His hand took my own. My eyes trailed from the floor to look at him. His robes were ripped and speckled with blood. "I know you still think all of this nonsense but look upon your sorrow. Why would you feel it if you had not known him?"

"It's not like that.." I mumbled, shaking my head. "This was my fault. I wasn't quick enough, strong enough, smart enough. If the others hadn't had shown up when they did Al-Cid and I would have also have died because of my anger."

"You think this guilt then?" He sighed. "I cannot force you to stay with us but I beseech you to make the ritual with me so His Grace may go peacefully to the Light and that you shall not regret this when your memory is mended."

The Nu Mo went about carefully lifting the Gran Kiltias' body onto a gilded litter and then draped a length of raw silk in an inky blue shade to shroud his form. After a lengthy pause I executed the slightest of nods, my submission fuelled by the want to make amends and rid myself of this woeful feeling that smothered me.

"I need to speak to the princess." I lurched up from the floor.

Penelo doubled back from where the group still lingered, halfway in the aisle's stretch. She pulled another vial from the medic bag.

"You're still in a bad way, take this." I accepted the potion with thanks and gulped it down despite its bitter taste.

"What will you do now?" She asked.

"Mikel says there is a ceremony, a type of funeral I guess, it is the disciple's responsibility to perform it. I must stay for a while longer." I looked over at Ashe who had overheard my explanation.

"Do you still wish to journey with us?" She asked.

"I have to."

"Do not feel obliged because you host the Gigas. Though his power would be an asset on our travels it can be excused under such circumstances."

"I would never hear the end of it if I stopped him by staying here. Besides, I still need to find Kaiser and return to my own realm. I think the only way that can happen is if I continue on."

"You did not find the truth of your identity convincing enough?"

"I never really got the chance to hear a proper explanation. Just suggestions and speculations." I shrugged.

"Very well then. We will prepare for travel and await you."

I could tell it had been hard to give in to such a request as the want for us to make haste was obvious in her demeanour. They were ushered away further into the temple to some unused quarters so that they could rest whilst they waited my return.

I was led back to my own solar by Clem who was even more soft-spoken than usual.

Before the hearth sat a brass bath filled deep with piping hot water, two elderly women swathed in thick Kiltia robes stood either side, one holding a pail the other a comb. I paused and turned to question Clem yet he had quickly retreated out into the corridors.

"For the spirit of His Grace to be cleansed, you first must also wash from you the waste of war, sister." The crone with the pail informed catching my puzzled look.

A glance down at myself showed I was a mess. Dried blood encrusted my skin, ragged slashes striped my dress where Bergan's sword had landed and soot stiffened my hair. I suppose she was right, I couldn't exactly rollup to such an important ritual in this state.

They handed me the bronze pail and the finely made comb of wolf bone before leaving me. I sighed and went about ridding myself of the rags that had once been clothes and stepped into the bath. The warm water had been scented with oils that smelled as sickly sweet as the incense that burned throughout the temple. I went about washing and scrubbing my soiled skin until the water was cloudy with dirt. A thick length of linen was draped over a small wooden clotheshorse before the fireplace so that the fire's heat would warm it. I plucked up the towel and tightly wrapped it around me as I went in search of something suitable to wear.

I hadn't needed to search far as laid out on the four poster bed was a Kiltia robe. Its design was exactly the same as the one Mikel wore and there was a headdress to match. I would have hesitated to put on such garments as I wasn't exactly the most religious of person yet the nipping cold from being away from the fire stirred me to move. I quickly donned the outfit and used the linen to dry my hair some before combing any remaining tangles out. The headdress was difficult to secure into place but after much fiddling I managed to get it to nestle on my crown without it moving.

Leaving my quarters, I was whisked away along the cluster of corridors to stand before another engraved door. Mikel was already there his head bowed as if lost in his own thoughts. His dark eyes were glassy with sadness. The doors were slowly pulled open to reveal a chamber. It was small yet beautifully lavish. Instead of it being decked in the Kiltia colours of bronze and blue, pristine white marble fashioned thick pillars, stretched along the floor and moulded the altar in the chamber's centre. The only colour gracing the chamber was weaved through the embroidery of thick linen drapes or engravings in the stone work. The flashes of colour were a shade of pale gold as if to symbolise the Light itself.

"This is the Hall of Harmony, where the dead come to be cleansed so that their spirit can return to the Light." Mikel explained in a soft voice.

I watched as the door on the opposite wall of the hall was drawn open to allow the many Nu Mo to enter, carrying aloft the litter. The navy length of silk fluttering slightly with the movement, its rippling made it appear like water that had been disturbed by a light breeze. They carefully laid the litter onto the altar.

"The ritual requires both disciples to play equal parts- one to symbolise the power of the mountain, earth and corporeal things, the other to symbolise the strength of faith and spirituality."

The Nu Mo came forth, two of which each held polished golden platters. They stopped before us to offer up the items. One platter held a large bunch of long incense sticks. The other had a pale gold sceptre that had divine pictures painstakingly etched into its length and from it hung many delicate charms fashioned from clear blue crystal.

"One to cleanse him with Mist, one to cleanse him with the Light, so that Faram the father will witness all that he has wrought in his corporeal time and all he shall receive in the hereafter." He bowed to the Nu Mo before him and moved to take the staff. I mimicked him and plucked up the chunky bundle of mustard coloured incense. The servants retreated back out of the doors they had entered. "You will summon the Mist and sing the hymn of mourning."

"I.. don't know the hymn." I shook my head, the headdress clinking softly at the movement.

"You mean you've haven't yet come across it on your travels here? It is a common song. A hymn used to grieve any soul may he had been crowned head or commoner, man of the cloth or man of the sword. It is only ever sung in the Old Tongue which is why many do not know its true words...

'Ieyui

Nobomeno

Renmiri

Yojuyogo

Hasatekanae

Kutamae.'" He spoke the strange string of words slowly spacing out each syllable and allowing pauses in the lyrics.

"What does it mean?" I fiddled with the incense sticks, their scent was already scolding the back of my throat and they hadn't even been lit yet.

"It be an old verse but it roughly translates to:

'Pray, saviour.

Dream, child of pray.

Forever and ever

Bring us peace.'" He noticed my eyes widen as the words rolled from him.

It was that damn melody I had heard weaved throughout the mountain winds! I had thought it had just been my brain fizzling out due to hypothermia. No wonder the rhythm that he had spoken that strange jumble of words in seemed somewhat familiar. I just didn't get it. Forgotten hymns, identical terms of endearment and strange feelings lurching from my heart unintentionally, it was as if things were becoming blurred- where did Marishka San Costa end and I begin?

"Come. Now is not the time to dwell on confusion, sister." He moved towards the altar.

We stood opposite sides of the dais facing one another as long moments of silence slunk by. I was aware that this was a reflective pause before the cleansing began, to remember the Gran Kiltias before honouring him. Though I knew little of him the only thing I could focus on was the guilt of not have being able to stop his death.

Eventually, Mikel lifted his head and gave a slight nod. I moved to a lantern and brushed the tips of the incense along the waving fingers of flames until they caught alight. With them now smouldering and slowly spilling out a rich, musky smoke, I returned to my post and began to sing. Mikel soon did the same. His low voice wove around my own pitch, complimenting it in its contrast.

As the hymn came from us he began to sweep the staff over the shrouded form, pausing now and then to shake it with an elegant flick of his wrist. The crystal charms rattling softly seemed to punctuate the verse, giving it rhythm. I slowly moved the incense so that its smoke would waft along the body before me. I concentrated on the Mist, calling it forward in hope to cleanse the Gran Kiltias of his violent end and bring him to peace. The tranquil roll of the Mist mirrored the incense smoke and mingled among it, its pallid hues of blues and greens detectable now and then in its flow.

Mikel too was calling upon the Mist as the staff he held soon had ghostly tendrils swirling playfully around its shaft. The crystals drank in the energy and began to glow, radiating a gentle luminance. They began to gather power, burning brighter and brighter until a flash of pure white light boomed out like a crack of lightning, cutting our song short. It vanished just as swiftly taking with it the wispy Mist. We stood a beat in silence before the disciple bowed his head.

"It is done. The father has taken him into the Light."

I nodded not trusting myself to speak as the hurtful lump in my throat would only cause my voice to break. The Gran Kiltias may have moved on yet my sorrowed remained.

The song had stopped. Basch strained his hearing in hope to catch further snatches of it echoing through the temple yet all was quiet once more. He had heard the hymn of mourning many a time, he'd even mumbled it himself at his father's funeral yet that same simple song suddenly sounded so soothing as if it were a lullaby for the dead.

Edie had a pleasant singing voice, one he had heard often on their travels but when she had sung just now there had been an edge to it that had never graced it before. Its raw sadness was not only well suited but it gave the overused hymn a new splendour. It had effortlessly brought their trivial chatter to a halt when it first rang out, even the ever interrogative Vaan held his tongue to listen, and now with it finished they remained in silence still.

With the ceremony complete I returned to my solar to gather my belongings. From what I had seen on the map, Archades was a fair stretch away from our current location and I very much doubted that we would be covering it by airship. The sooner we made a move the better.

My usual clothes had been laid out on the bed. The rips in my dress had been stitched by such a steady hand that it was near impossible to tell where they had once been. I shrugged off the heavy robes and tugged on my dress. Once I was wrapped up in my everyday garb I pulled on my boots and assorted bags. I left the robes folded as neatly as my clumsy fingers could manage. I moved to the solar's door, pausing as my fingers gripped its handle yet quickly dismissed the urge to cast a glance back over my shoulder at my supposed quarters.

Clem escorted me back to the vestibule where Mikel stood waiting, his dead brother's spear in his hands. The broken bamboo pole had been bound together resulting in it looking flimsier than ever. I accepted the weapon with a nod of thanks before frowning.

"I don't understand. You said the spear would never break."

"I too am troubled by that. Mayhap it were because it had been laid to rest in the Garden of the Guardians before you did take it into battle once more or, more troublingly, that the power that Judge did possess was stronger than a spell weaved with the Light."

"Will it break again?"

"I know not. I am sure if your faith is unbreakable so will your weapon be."

"I'm not really the religious type."

"This suggests otherwise." His black talon traced the small bronze trinket that was nestled among the length of my hair.

My fingers flew up to my crown. The headdress was still in place. I had forgotten to remove it, I guess I had become accustom to its weight.

"Sorry. I forgot to leave it with the robes." I moved to unclasp the fixings.

"Do keep it on you, it is yours after all." His clawed hands stilled my grasping fingers. "Whether your faith be forthright or no, the Light will guide you, sister." He turned from me and drew open the temple's great doors.

I stepped towards the entrance, my eyes taking in the bleak scenery. Everything was grey. The ever rolling stretch of clouds was painted a stormy silver and from them came the rush of rain. The scent of wet stone and damp earth mingled with the tang of smoke. It were as if the rain was attempting to cleanse the temple grounds of all the horror it had witnessed yet it would seem it couldn't rid the dark hum of death from the mountain. I took a step forward, hand outstretched to catch down falling droplets. I had thought it were too cold to rain up here. The frigid temperatures still remained, so why wasn't this downpour snow?

"The mountain mourns." Mikel moved to my side, his long head tilted back to look up at the shrouded sky. "The rains have come."

"When will it stop?"

"Not until Fafnir is vanquished once again."

"Fafnir?"

"When Faram did craft this mountain so that it could become scared grounds hellish creatures slunk out from the bowels of the earth to plague it. Mount Bur-Omisace is a land of balance, holy cannot be without evil. Fafnir is that evil."

"So for balance to remain he can't be slain, right? How was he vanquished in the first place?" I lowered my hand.

"By the Gran Kiltias Anastasis. His death did break the seal that was keeping the demon at bay."

"Will you be able to seal Fafnir again?"

"My powers are slight compared to His Grace's. I fear the rains will be upon us for quite some time." He caught my look of guilt. "Go forth, sister. Finish this quest so that whatever has happened to you will be righted and you can return to us."

"I will." I was sure once I found Kaiser, once all this was through it would be back to the norm for both myself and Marishka. She would be able to aid Mikel, I was sure. "Thank you, disciple Mikel."

To show my respect I performed that strange bow that they favoured before stepping out into the rain.

There were so many steps to trudge down. The downpour soon stippled my cloak with beads of water and my hair began to grow damp. My downcast mood reflected this drab weather. I continued to pace on as if in a daze not even pausing once I had reached the end of the flight of steps. I was walking away, leaving behind nothing but anguish and chaos in my wake. It was as if that was my mantra for my whole time in Ivalice- if in doubt, run away. I had lied and ran all the while. So many doubts had been left behind in my fleeing: how I came to be here, how I'd find a way home, if I would ever find Kaiser, the sacrifice Hynal had made for me, the unexplained grief I felt for Gran Kiltias Anastasis, the lust that arose for Al-Cid Margrace, my being Mariska San Costa. It was all too much.

My steps faltered and I grasped the stone lip of the wall that trimmed the edge of the plaza, my eyes blinking to ward off the lashing rain. It was all too much. My chest grew tight. My fingers clawed further at the weathered stone. I gasped willing my suddenly clenched lungs to draw breath. They complied though instead of pushing out a breath, a sob broke free. I bowed my head. With the rain no longer in my face I realised that it was welling tears that had been blurring my sight. I tried to breathe again but was only rewarded with another racking sob. I gave in to it and began to cry. Why I was weeping I couldn't say. I was awash with so many emotions. Self-doubt, fear, anger, confusion and sadness all pooled within me like a swelling dam.

It was as I was feebly attempting to gather these wayward feelings when I heard it, a howl. It wasn't the harmonious high-pitched wail of a mountain wolf but instead a rough cry from its smaller cousin. I turned to see there, stood in the centre of the stone courtyard, was a black dog. I stood stock still unsure of what to do. If I approached he'd no doubt flee again.

"Kaiser." My voice was a faint, hardly audible above the pitter-patter of the rain.

To my surprise he loped forward, his coat glistening with raindrops that speckled his black fur. His amber eyes locked upon my own as he came to a stop before me and sat back. I fell to my knees and circled my arms around him in a tight embrace, burying my face into his damp fur. Relief rose up to easily wipe away the emotions hounding me. Even if it were only a moment's refuge from them I welcomed it wholeheartedly.

"You came back." I sniffed pulling my face back from his coat. "We can go. I will find a way home, I promise."

A soft whine came from him as he moved to lick at my shoulder, his tongue running over the rough spun wool that was my own make-shift coat. I ruffled his fur and stood up. The smile tugging at my lips soon faded as a glance up from him saw that the others were stood at the foot of the steps patiently awaiting me to join them.