The black smoke marks the air, your friend, with a caustic sting. And no matter how hard you try to breach its heavy body – you are choking, drowning, useless in the air as you try to clamber through it. To see the crisp blue skies again, and the breathless expanse that awaits your soul, pulses defiantly in your blood.

You will see them, just not at this moment, as Ru finds herself corralled like some wild game into the very pit of Kaos’ schemes. You are a pawn, drawn like all the others as you hover upon the last remaining bits of air that you can afford.

The warrior quickly realizes the changes in the alter, the vibrations its spreads when it morphs and pools into some hell bent sphere. You hear its voice and its commands.

“DO NOT FIGHT ME.”

The air is harder to navigate, your heart hitches and your blood boils. This is the end, you realize. This is the story you’ve been chasing, the foe you always knew you were meant to conquer to all and every end. Perhaps you wished they would sing songs of your victory, and the monsters you would continue to devour with your tempered will. You would bleed for a righteous cause, after all.

You just wished and hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon.

But the world has never been known for its abundant charity or grace. It forged us all with its perils and spared us no grief.

You hope, with all your wills that the faces you’ve journeyed with are not as foolish. Lyanna, noble and resilient Lyanna; Ros, the only other comrade you could say you truly trusted. Perhaps you even looked up to them, to embody them in strength and power. And your brief encounters with the residents of Helovia, of the World’s Edge – faces you would never get to know.

True to your soul, to your whole body that is covered in a fearful sweat, and a heart that exceeds its rate at a pounding, ringing state, you defy Kaos with your trembling cry. It cracks and pales in comparison to the God’s mighty howls, but it’s all you have – as your place in the world zeros down to the seconds.

You’re consumed like the others. Torn apart and dissolved into nothingness. It hurts, but you can no longer scream with your lungs or brace with your muscles. There is only agony, terrible affliction; nothing has trained you for this moment. When flesh is ripped away from its soul and spirit. Your three selves are torn and cast away in every direction, and you are lost.

It is the familiar scent of air that somehow binds you together again. Where your family, torn by the winds that first brought you to Helovia, have called you back into their arms.

And there is only pure joy. As you find your voice amongst the dead.