"... My return. Was it really necessary to hide it so thoroughly?" She speaks to nothing and no one, to herself, to him. Sometimes Soul is hard to hear, and she worries their resonance link is fading. "I'm the only one who can use it, and I'm not convinced I'll even find it at this rate."

Silence is the only response, though a vaguely sheepish feeling sweeps through her. She must have imagined it; Maka has been in this gods forsaken forest for far too long.

The place is a maze within a maze. Just finding the aptly named Lost Woods had been a journey; traveling through it had been the stuff of Kishin-filled nightmares. Now she has reached Karok Forest, the heart of this dark, endless place. Or she thinks she has. It isn't as if there's a sign pointing the way, but Maka had walked the path remembered and she hasn't been attacked by a Kishin in a a good while, so she must be close.

Dappled sunlight bathes her through the shadow as she reaches yet another clearing. Each time before, her heart had swelled only to fall, but she's ceased hoping.

In the center of the clearing stands a large tree, odd, dark, gnarled. Maka glares at it. Ugh, another dead end, another empty clearing.

If only memory had told her where to find the scythe, not just the wood.

'Go to the Karok Forest within the Lost Woods. Find the hidden path, the steps we walked before.'

Soul's voice in her head rankles where it might normally soothe.

"There's nothing here!"

She shouts it to the ether and her voice is lost among the trees.

"Excuse me?" A high voice answers, and her scythe is in hand in an instant.

"Show yourself!" she commands, scanning the trees on the other side of the clearing in the direction she'd heard the voice.

"Rude, to make demands of a God. I only listen to Soul because he's your squeeze - I mean king." There's a thoughtful little hum. "Though, I guess you have a right to be cranky after sleeping for a hundred years. And anyway, it's not like I can be choosy with my company these days. You're the first visitor I've had in years if you don't count the squirrels."

"Wait, you know Soul?" Her guard remains, even through a light blush at his strange words. Knowing Soul doesn't mean this is a friend.

"Of course, he's the last person I talked to. You were with him. Sort of."

"Who are you? Where are you?" Because why would an ally hide amidst the shadows of this shadowed place?

"I'm right in front of your face, do you lack eyes?" Across the clearing, a branch shakes in the odd tree.

Maka jumps back in surprise. Blinks. Lowers her scythe the tiniest bit.

"You're… a tree?"

"Not blind, then. Daft. Also, your boy said the same thing, hehe! Anyway, yes, yes, hello hello, legendary hero of the scythe, I am the Great Deku Tree! Welcome, welcome, have a seat, take a load off, let's chat!"

"I - you want to chat?" Another blink.

He might have told her this would involve an obnoxious talking tree.

'It's a prick. I thought you were better off not knowing that part.'

"You're a prick," she says to the air.

"Well, you are rude, aren't you. Tsk!" The tree actually sounds affronted as it shakes a branch her way. "Just for that, maybe I won't give you the Master Scythe after all."

"Wait, you have my scythe?" Maka takes two steps closer. She's here. It's here! Finally.

"Well, I wouldn't call a weapon millennia old and forged from the combined essences of several gods yours, per say, but yep!" It sounds almost chipper at the revelation. "And, might I add, it took you long enough to come back for it. I'm not sure I should give it to you, rudeness aside." The tree sniffs, though how an entity with no tongue can talk, let alone sniff, is beyond her. "You couldn't have wanted it all that badly to come here last."

"I couldn't have-" fists tighten around her current weapon, a pale imitation of what she seeks. "I… couldn't have? Do you know what it took to get here? To come this far? You, you you!" Step step step, scythe bared. "Stupid tree!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" The tree crosses two large limbs in front of itself. "Hold on there with the temper tantrum! I didn't say I wouldn't give it to you, just that I don't know if I should. I already told you that I listen to King Sweetie and he told me to give it to you, even if he didn't mention you're rude and have a temper, so here it is."

There is a creaking rustle as layer upon layer of bark and wood fold gently back until her scythe is revealed, polished and whole in the heart of the tree. It glows faintly in the soft, dappled light as it emerges to rest on the reformed face of the tree.

"Go on, take it."

Maka doesn't hesitate. Her current scythe, long companion though it's been, drops to the forest floor and she steps forward with eager steps, reaches out a hand, and takes up her rightful scythe.

And then there's pain. Unending, unyielding pain, coursing through her head, her heart, her very soul. Maka drops to her knees in a wordless scream, clutching the scythe all the tighter. She's dying-she's dying. Not again, not when she's so close, not when he needs her so much, please, please.

"Oh, yeah," the high voice echoes through her pain. "Probably should have warned you that it'll kill you if you're still too weak from that hundred year sleep and all. My bad."

That damned tree. She can't die, not now. She has to survive to cut that smug birdbrain of a tree in half.

"I also proooobably should have told you I never give anything up without a challenge, a test of worth, if you will. In my nature and all that. Good luck!"

The snarl is all the warning she gets and instinct and muscle memory take over even through the pain as she rolls to one side and scrambles to a crouch, narrowly avoiding a flurry of teeth and claws. The thing is dark, shadowy, wrong. A Kishin - and not a weak one.

Pain courses through her and she wants to collapse, give up, let the Kishin take her soul, but she can't, she can't.

'Stand. Fight. You can't die, not again, please.'

His guilt washes through her, staggering, and she won't let Soul live with that, won't fail him, won't fail herself.

Standing through the pain, her lifeforce ebbs mercilessly with each passing second. She doesn't have long. She'll have to drop the scythe if she even can, and when she does, she'll die, and if she doesn't, she'll die.

Maka refuses to die. Not yet.

The thing charges her and she springs to her feet, teeth grit through the pain, and swings her weapon in a wide, vicious arc.

Ichor flies, spattering her, the tree, everything as the scythe blade slices clean through the Kishin's neck and it collapses in front of her in a heap.

As quickly as it had come, the pain is gone, and scythe in hand, she feels right, she feels whole.

"Bravo! Bravooo!" Tree limbs shake in what must be some arboreal version of applause. "Nicely done, my queen, nicely done indeed! The scythe is yours-you've certainly earned it! Though may I say." Another of those odd sniffs. "You might have been just a touch neater."

Now that she's not dying, Maka has room for anger. She stalks up to the tree, putting a finger to what she now recognizes as a skull like face in the bark.

"Now listen here! This was already my scythe and yes, sometimes fights get messy. You wanted to challenge me, so you got what you gave. Oh, and I'm a knight, not a queen, get your facts straight. You really are-"

"But you're going to marry a kiiiiing, aren't you?" The tree sing songs and Maka steps back in disbelief, face going scarlet. "That would make you a queen," it continues, unrelenting. "King Soul and Queen Maka sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-"

"Oh come off it already!" She bares her scythe, stomps her foot. "You really are a prick. What are you anyway?"

"That's Lord Prick to you. Or Lord Death. Take your pick."

"You're-"

"Lord Death - or what's left - yep!"

"And you are-"

"The one who gave Asura his power." This is more solemn. "And you're the one who is going to help fix my mistake. Had to make sure you could do it, you understand how it goes."

A long sigh escapes her, she's just so tired, and it's far from over. Her gaze strays to the canopy of leaves up ahead, taking in the dappled light, and she wonders how much longer she'll live to see the beauty in small things like this play of light and shadow.

The Tree - Lord Death, she supposes - interrupts her thought.

"Now, then," the shell of a God says, suddenly all business. "If you're going to face Asura again, there are a few things we should discuss."

Another sigh. A few things? The elation of getting her scythe back, the anger, it all drains in a swirl of weariness. Her endless day is about to get yet longer and the hardest part of her journey still lies ahead. Maybe she should rest. Yes. She can't afford to dwell on the past anymore, not when years of confinement and suffering could soon come to an end depending on her actions.

The Great Prick Deku Tree offers refuge and protection by creating a branchy makeshift tent around her while she sleeps through the night. The cool ground prompts Maka to dream about being underwater at the shrine again, wondering- what if she had fallen deeper into those dark depths?

Then she wakes, blinking at grey daybreak, grateful for being on ground where she can stand. That dark shrine water had been a nightmare at first.

"There was a storm," the Tree informs sagely, pointing to the sky. "But I kept you safe! It's the least I could do, I did make a promise to your-"

"I have to go." Maka picks herself off the grass, brushes off her leggings, and hugs the Master Scythe closer, its blade against her cheek equally invigorating as the smell of fresh rain.

It's now or never.

"Bring back whatever's left of my decrepit soul," Lord Death coos as she waves goodbye. There is little need for Maka to glance back over her shoulder to confirm a cocky smile plastering itself over bark and would-be facial lines. The tone conveys it all. "And bring back your Soul too, of course."

A smart remark dies in Maka's throat when the image of Wes disguised as a traveler pops into her mind. She had made a promise to him, and she could never forgive herself if she doesn't follow through. Unlike Asura, she's mortal, the fragility and impermanence of her flesh growing more apparent as each step carries her further away from Lord Death's wacky limbed protection and closer to what might be her last battle. Perhaps more than a few hours of reprise would sway the odds of survival, of winning, to her side, but she's waited a hundred years for this moment- there is no use in waiting. Either way, she'll make sure to go down fighting.

That's precisely her plan when she finally reaches the outskirt of the derelict town. Her blood boils with indignation, hatred, loss at the sight of the gaping hole on the east castle wall, chunks of stone strewn about as if a bomb had exploded. Maka barrells through the opening, Scythe in hand, temples aching because she's clenching her jaw so tightly, the memories rushing back. Her mama and papa protected this castle until their end, and now it's her duty to carry on their legacy and win.

"FIGHT ME!" Heavy footfalls mark her presence her through the cobweb adorned hallways, shoving Kishin aside with her bare hands as they attempt to take her down. She's gone mad. Mad. "ASURA! Fight me, you pathetic cow-butt licking COWARD-"

A laugh rumbles in her chest. Oh, Soul is louder than ever, so close and yet so far. 'That's… an interesting insult.'

"Shut up, Soul," she mutters, biting her lower lip and cursing her cheeks for heating up. Redirecting the nervous energy into rage, she thunders on, no hesitation in her swing, the Master Scythe beyond deadly in her hands as she breaks down age-weakened doors in search of Asura.

The difference in the castle- a symbol of pain and failure- wrings her heart. It's too much to take in. Dust and grime now cover the tattered, faded portraits hanging crookedly on the walls. Moss and mold have conquered the imported, broken down furniture supplying endless hiding places for Kishin to jump out and assault Maka, several close calls leaving her arms scratched, her legs bloodied, and her anger levels through the roof.

"SHOW YOURSELF, ASURA!"

'And it's not like Asura can go to you… I'm babysitting him, remember?"

Her face flushes, pretending it's the result of beheading a clown Kishin instead of Soul's remark. "Just tell me where you are, Soul!"

'Follow the sound of my voice.'

She can hear the grin in his snicker, cute dimple appearing on his left cheek. A shriek blares out of her before she can contain it, releasing giddiness at the prospect of reuniting with Soul, of facing Asura, of failing. All her training and battles and clue hunting and pain have boiled down to this hour. Who knows, it could have all been in vain, save for this reunion she anticipates so wholeheartedly.

"Don't play with me, Soul, I want to see you!" Maka allows a couple of hot tears to stream down her cheeks. Maybe she won't ever sit in the sun and write poetry again. This time, Soul won't be able to carry her to the Resurrection Shrine, won't be able to save her or hold Asura back for long. "I want to end this now!"

'Maka… Don't…' The sudden stab of urgency in Soul's voice sends tendrils of paralyzing terror down her spine. 'I'm losing my control over him...'

A shrill, ungodly scream stills the air. It's the rebirth of Evil. For an insane second, she loses her hearing, her sight, her bravery - this is the definition of a living nightmare: darkness, tortured souls shrieking all around her, a pit of doom deepening in her stomach, death the only guarantee.

'RUN, RUN RIGHT NOW!"

She does, but it's like wading through sand, her movements frustratingly slow, her body begging not to head toward danger and instead into the refuge of the lost woods where neither friend nor foe would be able to track her down. Her foot catches on the debris she attempts to leap over, vision blurring as white hot pain shoots through her bones. A shadow looms over her as she rubs her eyes.

'... Sorry, Maka.'

Standing before her in the middle of the courtyard, fully awake, fully formed, in full power, Asura is more massive than she could have possibly imagined. Pupiless eyes take her in, red where there should be white, lips contorted, tongue split like a snake. He towers, bandages flailing as he bellows sheer rage.

Despite his menacing appearance, Maka trudges up what her mama taught her: impossible is nothing. In an act of shaky defiance, Maka stands, tightening her pigtails casually, twirling her Scythe, steadying her panic.

"You will die," Asura seethes, teeth glinting.

Somewhere within, still lending her strength, is Soul, her Soul. She will end this, she will save him, she must. But she feels so small within his shadow, so fragile. Even with the Master Scythe, how can she face so much alone? How can she be enough?

'You're not alone, ' he soothes. 'Never alone.'

But she is, she is; her king is trapped by his own power and she's the only one who can save him. The world rests on her shoulders and she finally feels them breaking, the burden too much. Has she come so far only to fail?

The loud shout of "YAHOO," felt more than heard, is the only warning she gets before the world erupts.

Flame, ice, wind, and lightning fall upon Asura in rain of terror, and the calamity that has been set upon them for so long, the terror upon this world, howls.

The beasts—the beasts! Freed from Asura's dark power, her comrades fight for her, with her.

'Damn right we weren't gonna leave all the fun to you!' It's not Soul, though the voice is familiar. Vah Rudania leaps forward and hurls fire before quickly bounding back.

"Black*Star? How?"

'Well, I'm dead, and your boy has some pretty potent psychic shit he can do, so here we are.'

'We're with you, Maka.' A new voice cuts into her mind as Vah Medoh swoops and hits Asura with a column of wind, knocking him back then flying off out of range of pursuing bandages.

"Kid," she whispers, then leaps to one side, narrowly avoiding a brutal swipe of a bandage as Asura regains himself and bellows down at her.

"DIE." It's a shriek, potent with fear and rage.

'You can do this! We've got your back!'

'Yeah, what Sissy said! You ain't gotta do nothin' alone!'

"Liz! Patti!" The enormous camel bounds closer and releases a lightning bolt that stuns Asura for the barest instant. As he recovers, he swats the beast back with one engorged appendage and Vah Naboris careens back, crashing into the remains of one tower and decimating it completely.

'Can't kill what's already dead.' The humor in Liz's thought tinges just briefly with sadness as the camel stands tall amidst the rubble.

'We're all here, Maka. We all vowed to follow you, to follow Soul, to defeat Asura together, and we will fulfil that vow." The solemnity in Tsubaki's words strikes Maka as the enormous stag hurls ice, staggering Asura. Vah Ruta leaps away before the enemy can strike.

"Together," Maka agrees, gripping her Scythe all the tighter.

They all took a vow, every one of them. The realization is everything: Maka doesn't have to do this alone. They've always been stronger together and she will face this, will face Asura, they all will.

'Told you you're not alone.' Soul's voice re-enters her mind. There's a smugness there, but Maka can also feel his struggle. Keeping himself whole within Asura's raw malevolence now that it has achieved its full potential strains him, wears him thin.

Then Asura bellows again, sheer rage, and chaos reigns as the courtyard is swarmed with Kishin.

Maka leaps to avoid one, large and shadowy, scrambling onto Vah Rudania's enormous tail to escape the madness.

'We'll handle the Kishin,' Kid implores as Vah Medoh swoops low to blast the horde near Maka and Vah Rudania with wind. 'You deal with Asura. We've injured him, but only the Master Scythe can end this. Only you can weaken him enough to allow Soul to seal him for good!'

'You got this, Maka!' Black*Star shouts in her mind as he slowly circles Asura and angles the enormous salamander's tail to allow her to leap off with ease into a patch of courtyard clear of Kishin. 'So get to it!'

Maka steadies herself from her place on the ground, standing tall. Black*Star is right; it's time.

'Go,' Soul agrees. 'I'm with you. GO!'

Running forward, she wields her scythe with deadly precision. "Asuuuura!" she shrieks. "Your soul is mine!" Her scythe moves in an arc as she makes a leap and cuts into his stomach, causing him to howl, black blood gushing from him and painting the courtyard in his ichor.

Asura howls again, lashing out blindly, and Maka's hit by one of his flailing bandages, crashing into the lone surviving tower at one corner of the courtyard. Chaos erupts around her as the beasts keep the flood of Kishin off of her, and she crouches on one knee. One Kishin breaks through, dark and massive and drooling, and she stares at it, dazed.

'Get up! Fight!' As always, Soul is with her, bolstering her, so Maka regains her composure, slicing through the Kishin easily with her scythe. But it's not over and this is not the real threat and her head throbs from impact.

'You have to do this now, strike! You can do this! Please, Maka! It's almost done!'

Soul's strength courses through her, strength he can little afford to lend, and she scrambles to her feet, Scythe ready. Maka can feel him drowning in the madness through their link and she knows she has to end this right now.

There isn't time for pain, for fear, for regret. There is only here and now, the promise she vowed to keep.

'Go!'

She goes, runs, feet flying. Vah Ruta and Vah Medoh have resumed strikes upon Asura as Vah Rudania and Vah Naboris keep the dwindling Kishin horde from Maka. Streaking through the gap they afford her, she leaps onto a mound of rubble, leaps off, uses the leverage to make a high strike at her enemy. His back is to her, distracted, so she bellows, "Asura!" and he whips around just in time to meet her scythe, which slices into his chest, a wicked, diagonal arc, nearly clefting him in twain.

"Soul, now! NOW!"

It's time, Maka can feel it in every fibre of her being. The Master Scythe has struck a second blow - not fatal, but crippling. Now is the time Soul's power can work, can seal the evil, hopefully for good.

The white light is blinding as she feels Soul's power unleashed fully, erupting, bolstered by her strength, by the vitality of her scythe just as she has been inspired by the strength of their friends. It is their combined will that drives the light, and it's clean and pure as it erupts in a column of pure power that expands outward, burning away all darkness in its path, Asura, Kishin, everything. The darkness cannot survive, there is only the light, blinding, and even Maka shields her eyes as she lands, crouched near where Asura had stood, waiting to strike another blow if needed.

But it's not…

With the only remains of Asura being the black spots on her tunic, the battle is over.

The misty shape of a black cloak floats in the sky before zipping away in the direction of the Lost Forest.

Lord Death lives.

She won! They won!

Finally, a promise that could be kept.

Their beasts parked and now standing in a line like soldiers, her friends salute her. Black*Star gestures a hearty goodbye, turning and walking away until he fades into nothingness. Kid nods at Maka once, brimming with respect, taking Liz and Patti's hands in preparation for their departure. The latter blows a raspberry at Maka, waving grandly, kissing her sobbing sister. Beside them, Tsubaki takes Wes's hand; he refuses it and swathes an arm around her shoulder… and with that, the betrayal is forgiven.

Then they're all gone, and Maka is permanently alone again, never to see her friends in this life. It happened so fast. She didn't even get to say goodbye.

Seconds later, a beam of light shines down from the Heavens - not the dim, faint greyness that blanketed the world during her travels, but a warm, yellow glow that recedes with splendor, revealing someone she didn't know she missed so much.

He stands there, eyes only on her, worry apparent by the way he bites his lip, and his voice comes out softly. "Hi, Maka. Do you... remember me?"

She's been alone for one hundred years. Asleep. Unaware. And he's been alone just as long, not knowing when it would end, keeping Evil at bay, waiting for her… wondering if her memory of him has been erased by both time and the healing powers of the Resurrection Shrine. Gulping down a twinge of sorrow, Maka takes a step forward, then another, and another until he's an arm's length away.

The eyes are the same, maybe a shade darker than she remembers, but just as expressive and sleepy. His mouth is the same too: a hint of a frown, punctuated by the line between his furrowed eyebrows. The dimple that appears when he smiles at her finger tracing his nose is what convinces her, though - she's had a soft spot for his left cheek for a little over a century.

"Oh!" Maka brings up her other hand to hold his face, their height difference staggering. "It is you! Wow!" She's cut off, lifted by strong arms, twirled around, squeezed. "You're Soul! You look exactly like you did back then-"

He hasn't put her down yet, not that Maka has any complaints. The view from here is mighty fine in her opinion. She smooths down his hair and brushes stray brow hairs back into place, sighing happily. Running her hands down his arms leads her to feel something familiar at his elbows, leather wrapped around his forearms and hands.

"My gloves," she cries, unashamed of touching him. She has to make sure he's real and not a figment of her imagination, after all. "You had them all along! I thought I had lost them."

He turns a vivid shade of carnation pink. "Yeah, sorry, had to protect my hands. Safety and whatnot."

Maka nods, vaguely aware of her lopsided pigtails. The hair ties must have come loose during the battle. She's a mess, but at least she's safe and braver than before. "Let's see if they kept your hands soft, too."

There's irony in the disappointment that tugs at her when Soul gently puts her down to slip the gloves off - when she awakened months ago, she wanted to have her feet on the ground always. She apparently lost her right boot sometime during the battle, though that loss is nothing compared to the absence of his touch. As soon as the gloves are off, she's attached to him again, lacing her fingers between his, basking in the ridges of his fingerprints and the soft spaces between his calluses.

Both falling silent, Maka slowly becomes aware of the tension in Soul's hands, in his arms, in his slumped shoulders. When she meets his eyes, a distant melancholy takes her by surprise. She holds both of his hands in her own, smiling gently. "Straighten up, don't slouch."

Soul corrects his posture, but his frown persists. "Old habits die hard, Maka."

"True…"

He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth the way she's seen him do when he's feeling scared and alone. Maka can feel his heartbreak, wishes she could fix that, too.

"What's on your mind, Soul?"

"I'm alone now," he opens up, shrugging to cover up how deep the reality has settled. "Wes is dead. Tsubaki… Liz, Patti… Everyone we knew a hundred years ago is… gone."

Maka widens her eyes in the effort to not let more tears shed. She'll have her whole life to grieve a life lost with her parents, but right now the most important thing is consoling Soul, reassuring him of his innocence, that he did what he could with what he had. He focuses on the ground until she stumbles over her words, realizing he's off in his own world and stopped listening. She pops his nose to get his attention. "Soul? What're you thinking about?"

"That it feels like we got a second chance."

The idea sounds Maka. For a second it's almost as if she's back at the Resurrection Shrine, submerged in water, being born again.

Soul still won't meet her gaze. "And, you know… you were never really alone. I've been here this whole time."

Maka chokes up a little but manages to nod, caught off guard by his sweetness.

"And now we have our whole lives ahead of us…"

The idea is both wonderful and frightening at once.

Soul, however, is brave, so so brave. "Um, back then… You said you didn't want me to go to the ends of the world for you. Said you didn't want me to do that unless you could come too... So, uhh..." He rubs the back of his neck and looks at her, sheepish grin making her heart flip. "What do you say, want to explore what's left of my Kingdom with me? We can rebuild together."

She has no words left. Affection toward him swells in her chest as she nods, the future suddenly exciting and fulfilling. "Is that a proposal?"

Making him blush is her new favorite hobby. He self consciously pats down his hair and slides his hand over his eyes before resting his hands on her shoulders. The look he gives her is one of honesty - shy, yes, but certain. "Yeah, guess so… in more ways than one."

Standing up on her tippy toes, she pecks his cheek quickly in response, sure that it's okay with him to continue when he breaks into a grin. Maybe it's the aftereffects of the adrenaline rush, but she finds she's brave enough to slant her mouth over his, feeling his doubts slip away as their kiss deepens. Maybe their future is shaky at best, what with killing straggling Kishin, beginning to restore the kingdom to its former glory piece by piece, but at least they'll do it hand in hand. It'll be like they're alone in this world together.