Heartless

[Claire Gallows]

I. The Goddess, The Guardian & The Savior

Long before Chrysalia and before there ever lived a pink haired Farron, the Goddess of the Unseen Realm bestowed upon her Guardian the Heart of Chaos. Even before that, she granted a mere sliver of Chaos to each and every human soul that passed through her gates, born of her blood and doomed to die of loneliness and despair. So very much like she had so long ago. Despite her death, her second unlife was far more important than the first life for she maintained the balance between the living and the dead, the Seen and the Unseen. With such an inconceivable burden upon her shoulders, it was only natural that she sought to share with another her immortality. It is how a mortal man, a simple l’Cie if you will, became the catalyst that brought Gran Pulse to its knees. Granted an everlasting life, a man known as Caius was tasked with the none-too-enviable Guardian’s mantle. Meant to protect not only the Goddess but also the Seeress, he was left to languish as his charge lived and died a thousand deaths while he lived on. He bore the pain, the suffering, the anguish of watching the Seeress die only to be reborn every time. The constant cycle of death and rebirth turned him cold, cruel even, leaving him susceptible to the sway of Chaos and its unpredictable ways.

Caius’s time came and went and with his final breath, so too did the Goddess die. Their hearts had been as one, Chaos and flesh intertwined so intricately that you could not have one without the other. When the Goddess and the Guardian passed, Chaos was unleashed upon the world of Gran Pulse. It spilled over every crack and crevice, twisting and corrupting everything in its path. Life was no more and death was the only salvation from the warped way of the new world. It wasn’t until the God of Light himself awoke from his millennia long sleep to call upon the Savior to wrest hold of the souls of the dead from the perpetual pit of despair that was the unending sea of Chaos. Cleanse them. Purge them. Save them. For her part, the Savior was promised a little salvation of her own for one so near and dear to her that she would have pulled down the sky itself to save them.

The cataclysm came. The God of Light died at the hands of the Savior. The new world was born free of the influence of fickle deities and their unpredictable whims. Those left behind, those who chose to continue the trek they had started so long ago, they found themselves without immunity. The power vacuum that formed in the wake of the loss of the gods and guardians was soon filled by those who had given nigh everything for the sake of the new world. As though giving their all was not enough, they willingly damned themselves to a fate not meant for them, not meant for any mortal man or woman to bear.

A story of rebirth, a tale of life anew… it was only inevitable that the Goddess and the Guardian would yet find their place in the world.

[Claire Gallows]

II. Apotheosis & Apostasy

The Gods had fallen. Their era had passed and the new world found itself free of their reign. Still, though, the souls of the dead needed a shepherd and the balance of life and death had to be maintained. The Savior, unwilling as she claimed to be, found herself torn between freedom and duty. She had an out… a way to shirk that duty off on another. It would have been so easy to do so, to go back to normalcy like her friends were going to. Back to her family, her friends, her life. So. Easy.

But they say if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. When the Savior returned to her home, the adopted rather than native, she came not as the Savior of Chrysalia but as the Goddess Incarnate. Once known as Mwynn and then Etro, the mantle had passed once more. There was no fanfare, no great parade to herald her homecoming, only muted relief. It was all she needed at the end of the day, the peace of mind that all was well and her people were safe. They could go about their lives even if she couldn’t.

The day she claimed the Goddess’s mantle as her own was the day her path diverged from that of the others, never to again merge toward a common destination. The split paths may have bumped up against each other here and there but they quickly went their own ways and left the new Goddess to the loneliness of her segregation. It became easier with time though. The anguish of her inability to go “home” faded to a bearably dull roar in the depths of her heart, a faint ache that would only swell and crest should her thoughts stray too far from the self styled purgatory that passed for a new home.

At the very least she had her family. Her husband, her sister, and soon, her children. She tried not to show much it bothered her that they could all come and go as they pleased, dancing between realms without a care in the world. Their time was limitless and the need to cautiously meter their visits was non-existent. Deep down, far below the mask of stoic neutrality she wore so easily on the outside, was a nagging fear that they might one day leave and never return. After all, they were all she had left. How could she bear to lose any of them?

It was a question that threatened to be answered though, whether she liked it or not. Not because of any willing departure, no. But rather the cold fingers of death pulled at the fledgling deity’s sister, urging her toward the absolution of eternal sleep. The young woman was racked with unbearable visions of death and destruction, the twisted threads of time tangled so terribly that even the ruination of the old world and birth of the new was unable to free her from her curse. It was a gift, the old tribe had said, one bestowed upon the chosen seeress. But it was no blessing, not in the former Savior’s eyes. It was threatening to take her sister, her last blood link to Pulse.

Something had to be done. Anything. It had to be better than letting her die little by little, a flame snuffed in its prime. What good was the power of the gods if it couldn’t be wielded for the betterment of those over whom she held dominion? It was then that she decided to summon the immortality of the Guardian and at great risk to her own life, upon her sister she bestowed the Heart of Chaos. She thought that maybe, just maybe, the damage of the Seeress’s visions could be mitigated by the endless life afforded by the Heart, or at least give her more time to find a more permanent solution.

Never did she expect it to blow up in her face. Chaos remembers all, every timeline spun into the tight threads that granted endless life to the bearer of the Heart. As such, the bitter Guardian responsible for the great cataclysm that began this tale found life anew within a vessel too weak to fight his influence. From the inside, out he corrupted her, feeding the darkness of her mind until she was easily bent to his whims. Though she had been given the gift of immortality, it came at great cost to the sisters and at last, the Heart of Chaos broke.

It should have killed the young Goddess on the spot. Had it not been for the quick thinking of the greatest mind of their time, she very well may have. What was left of the Heart was taken from the Seeress and again her time began to dwindle. It was what brought the Goddess to the land of the new world in hopes of recovering what was left of the link. What was left of her own heart. Her steps were hurried, her pace near frantic as she swept down the welcoming halls of the New Academy.

“L-Lightning?” The familiar voice had her steps coming to a sudden halt, a look cast over her shoulder. The young man behind her was staring at her with wide eyes, pools of crystal blue-green laden with disbelief that he was seeing her here. Perhaps a shade older than sixteen, he didn’t look old enough to be in charge, but the badge hanging from his belt declared him the Director. His white blonde hair was accented by the crisp white lab jacket, lending well to the sterile and tidy environment presented by the walls around them.

“Hope… I…,” she began, turning to quickly cross the distance between them, her arms wide to embrace him. In the little time since she had last seen him, he had shot up in height, surpassing her so that she had to look up at him when she neared. He caught her in his arms and hugged her tightly, squeezing her so hard she wondered if he actually was testing to see if she were real and solid. After a few moments of awkward silence and tight embrace, they released one another and she took a step back.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, casting a look around to see just who might have seen her arrival. It wasn’t as though she were unwelcome or anything like that, it had simply caught him off guard.

“I came for the Heart. Serah told me… about what happened. You know I need to secure it before…” she trailed off, leaving the implication to hang heavily between them. Her shoulders tugged upwards in a tight shrug, slow to drop in its wake. Hope nodded solemnly and set a hand to her shoulder, directing her to turn around so they could continue down the hallway.

“I had hoped there might be a more positive reason for your visit but I understand. I wanted to tell you myself, but we thought it might be better for you and Serah to talk it out. I don’t know how much time she has left and with the Heart of Chaos fracturing… I don’t know how much time you’ll have left to work through this either…” he said gently, leading her through a set of pneumatic doors activated by a swipe of his badge. The next hall was significantly less welcoming, painted a stark white with no accenting decor. They passed down its length, turned a corner and stepped into a neatly arranged laboratory.

“I know… she said that you were only to get part of it. Which means I need to find the rest…,” she murmured, sweeping a look through the empty lab before feeling herself compelled toward a closed chamber at the far end of the room. Weaving around tables and stools, she came to a stop in front of the chamber’s door and looked back at the Academy’s Director.

“I’m afraid I can’t offer any insight into where the rest may be, but I’ve kept it safe for you… I think,” he spoke hesitantly but soon met her at the chamber’s door. Punching in a lengthy code, he then swiped his badge, input another code even longer than the first, and then with a quiet hiss, the chamber’s door unlatched.

“You think?” She asked, one brow perking high. Leaning to get a peek into the chamber, she felt the pressure of the Chaos within. It should have been reassurance enough but with all she had seen from Serah in the recent weeks, she couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t just an infusion waiting to blow.

“We can’t see Chaos here… or anything related to it for that matter. It took Noel’s assistance to rein in the flux and even then, we couldn’t be sure we had retained anything of the Heart’s presence,” he explained as his hand slipped into the sliding door’s handle. “But when you’re ready, I can keep the door secure if you wish to go in to check.”

“By the gods…,” she muttered, giving the man a single nod to denote her readiness. After a three count, he yanked the door open and she darted inside. The ominous slam of the door in her wake had her immediately regretting the action. All around her, thick tendrils of Chaos filled the air. It was aware of her presence though and it bent to her will, pushing and pulling until it coalesced into a thick orb of darkness right in front of her. Compact and opaque, the globe consisted of every ounce of Chaos that had filled the chamber.

“My Heart, return to me. Come home to your creator and welcome your reprieve,” she spoke to the silence. The silence said nothing of course, but she felt the shift in the air. The Chaos before her expanded and contracted, a turbulent nebula ready to blow. Pressure filled the chamber and outside, a monitor squealed a frantic alarm as Hope tried to figure out what was going on inside. She set her stance wide, prepared for what may come and when it came, it did so in spectacular fashion. It carried the roar of a freight train as the orb exploded outwards, hitting her square in the chest with a blast of energy that sent her reeling backwards toward the chamber’s curved wall. Her back met metal in a rather painful way but it couldn’t compare to the searing pain in her sternum, a violent stabbing that threatened to rip right through her. She clutched her hands to her chest and focused on keeping herself upright as the Chaos funneled itself back into her being all at once. As the Chaos dissipated, the alarms outside of the chamber seemed to calm and soon the Chaos was gone and all was quiet.

“Light?” Hope hesitantly opened the chamber’s door and peeked within. Upon the floor, Claire was crumpled in an ungraceful heap, limbs spread wide and her right cheek smooshed against the cold floor. The young Director’s fears for the worst barreled to the forefront of his mind when he found no sign of life and carefully he pulled her from the chamber. A hand patted at her cheek, his quiet voice pleading with her to come back to him. He sat with her on the floor for what felt like forever but at last, a quiet little groan issued from her lips.

“He can’t hurt her anymore…” she murmured, words sluggish as they tumbled free from her tongue. Reluctantly he let her go as she slowly sat up, stubbornly climbing to her feet with only minimal assistance.

“Who?” He asked, a hand out for her should she need it. Her eyes closed for a moment, her hands tangled amidst pink at the base of her skull. She shook her head and as her eyes opened, she set her sights on the lab’s door. Hope’s worry only intensified when he saw the look on her face. Exhausted, crestfallen, heartbroken. It was silent despair mixed with quiet determination.

“It’s nothing, Hope. Thank… you for keeping it safe. I’ve got a lot of work to do though so I should go,” she said, unsteady steps slowly setting her into motion once more. What good was wielding the power of the gods if she couldn’t even save the ones that mattered. Out through the door and down the sterile hall, she was gone before she ever reached the double doors leading to the rest of the Academy.

[Claire Gallows]

III. Formulation

The sands of Valhalla welcomed her home, accepting her without judgment as she fell to her knees. Dragging her fingers through the fine granules, she let herself slump forward until her hands planted deep into the sand, swallowing her up to her wrists. A shudder racked her body and for a few moments she thought she might upend her stomach’s contents right there on the beach. Tilting her weight to one side, she rolled over onto her back and sprawled out, eyes cast to the purple sky above.

“I can do this,” she mumbled, pulling her hands up to push her hair from her face. Though she hadn’t the slightest idea of where to start, she had no choice but to press forward. Sitting up, she looked out across the tranquil sea of Chaos that surrounded the new Valhalla. All was as it should be; the balance restored, the land of the dead a peaceful respite for the souls of Chrysalia and Lucis and the other connect realms. It was a precarious arrangement, one easily upset by the slightest of changes. After all they had gone through and everything they had sacrificed, she couldn’t let it all go to hell in a handbasket. Up to her feet she went, turning to face the skyward reaching spires for a few moments of quiet contemplation.

“Perhaps… if I can get a better idea of what’s missing…” the tap of her toe was muted against the sand and soon she was leaving the beach behind in favor of the smooth stone walkways of the labyrinth like city. It was void of any signs of life, a lonely monument to the souls that passed through Valhalla’s gate to continue on to the Unseen Realm beyond. The city of death, never to house a living being, instead was home to the monolithic temple in the dead center. A near perfect replica of Etro’s temple, it presided over the city with its grand columns and twisting, gravity defying spires.

The trek to the city’s center took longer than she had hoped but in a land where time wielded no influence, it didn’t really matter. She quietly traversed the hallowed halls, moving deeper and deeper into the temple. At last she reached the throne of the Goddess, one of the only pieces of the former temple that had been able to be salvaged from Nova Chrysalia before it was destroyed. The steps rising to the throne were where she stopped though, taking a knee like she had once so long ago before the empty throne of the sleeping Goddess Etro. She had been a champion then, a noble knight tasked with salvation of the dead city and the balance between realms. Never had she thought it would come this far, the Goddess dead and the old world gone, with the young knight becoming not only the Savior but soon the Goddess as well.

“Guide me,” she requested, lifting her gaze to meet the empty throne. Silence overtook the hall and she fell into a quiet reverie as she waited. For a sign, for a thought, for anything really. At last it came to her at much the same time the faint fuschia glow emanated from the center of her chest. The pain was tolerable this time around at the very least as the remnants of the physical manifestation of her own life force pulled free from her body. Laid out before her, the fractured glow tried to piece itself together. As if trying to show her what she needed to do, the empty gaps pulsed and flickered, begging to be filled in by their missing pieces. She nodded.

“Okay. That’s a start. Now how do I find the rest?” She asked out loud, wondering if the little glowing diagram would point her in the right direction. What she didn’t expect was the sudden blast that sent her back on her butt. When she recovered and looked up once more, thin tendrils of azure light radiated outwards from each of the holes, winding through the air and disappearing at random intervals.

“Like a creepy treasure map. Wonderful,” she muttered and got to her feet again. Leaning in to examine it closer, she brought a hand up to tentatively touch the layout. She met resistance, her hand coming to a stop against the pulsing energy. The moment her fingers made contact, she was bombarded by a rapid sequence of what looked like snapshots, pieces of memories as viewed by some third party.

The Citadel in Lucis.

A street near Dockside district.

The farthest reaches of Valhalla.

The marketplace.

A beach in Chrysalia.

Points at which Chaos might gravitate to, each emotionally significant or symbolic in some way or another to the pink haired sisters. It was a lot of ground to cover and the areas in question weren’t exactly the most secure, especially not compared to the lockdown Hope had put the remaining piece of the heart under. But, much like everything else to this point, there are some things in life you just do. It would be logical to hit the two points in Rhydin at the same time and save Valhalla as the final stop. That left Lucis and Chrysalia for starting points. It would mean carefully metering her time, but it could be done.

It had to be done. She had no choice.

[Claire Gallows]

IV. In the Name of Righteous Retribution

Every path she could have taken to get to Insomnia came to a dead end, every link to the city cut off by the powerful protections put in place by the Kingdom’s most experienced mages. Claire knew better than to test them, not for her own sake but for those on the other side. She would have to find another way to get to the Citadel set at the heart of the city. So if she couldn’t walk right in from Valhalla, she supposed she would have to start outside of the city. It meant a high probability of enemy forces. This could be potentially problematic. From Valhalla she looked on, the city surrounded exactly as she thought. It wasn’t anywhere close to ideal but it had to be done. It was a running trend, that whole doing the impossible thing and man had it gotten old. Still she opened the rift into the Lucian countryside, three miles from the city proper and well outside of the notice of the enemy bearing down on the kingdom’s center.

“Here goes nothing.” She muttered, jumping through to the other side. The blue glow faded behind her, the gate closing in her wake and she hit the ground running. This would have been a hell of a lot easier if she had a vehicle of some sort. Coincidentally she crested the next hill to come across a modest farmstead. The stable was her target and she swung around the back, ducked the fence and pushed through the thick wooden door. A horse would be an easy way to cover the distance except for one tiny problem. The horses were gone, the stable empty. The smell of moldy hay and horse manure filled her nostrils and she cringed as she backed out of the stable. She turned a quick look around the little farm. Had she done so before, she may not have needed to go into the stable. The withered remnants of row after row of vegetation sat stagnant in the fields, left to rot and fade away. The farmhouse had no vehicles nearby and as she neared a double paned window, a peer inside found the furniture within coated in a thick layer of dust. A decaying meal sat forgotten on a small dining room table, untouched even by the rodents that had left little tracks in the dust.

“... fuck .” Her gaze had fallen to a still hand on the floor, the rest of the hand’s owner obscured by the dining room’s wall. She swore under her breath again and hurried around the side of the house until she met the back door. The window pane nearest the door’s handle was busted, shattered glass left on the floor within. Trying the handle, she found it still unlocked and cautiously she pushed the door open. Her boots kicked up dust with each step and as she progressed, her hopes for a positive outcome were quickly waning.

“Hello?” She called, one hand on the the handle of her gunblade, ready to draw. Truth be told, she should have had it out already but man, this was not what she was expecting. Before she ever made it to the dining room, she found a middle aged woman on the floor in the kitchen. The pool of blood underneath her head had dried long ago but if Claire didn’t know better, she had been put down execution style, two in the back of the head. Further into the house, she stumbled across far more than she had counted on. The one she had seen from the window was sprawled in the hallway between the kitchen and dining room. One arm was wrapped around a much smaller being, a child of maybe six or seven years old. She felt her heart drop into her stomach and she stood there staring at the pair as her heart broke.

This was the cost of war. This macabre display before her. Good people, good law abiding citizens gunned down in their own homes. A whole family executed in cold blood. For what? For looters to take their valuables? No, it appeared wallets and purses and other things of value were still intact. It had to be for the sake of the war plaguing the lands. If they couldn’t get into the city, why not up the death toll outside of the safety of Insomnia’s walls. Her blood, though it may be but Chaos in her veins, boiled at the thought and she stalked out of the house, leaving the nasty scene behind her.

Horse be damned, she was set on sieging the forces that stood sentinel outside of the well protected city. One mile. Two miles. Halfway through the third, it all came into view. Hundreds of them, awaiting their chance at getting into the King’s hold. The treaty talks had gone none too well, ultimately leading to Noctis’s departure of the city in favor of Rhy’Din. The Prince was safe, far away from here and those people below were accomplices to more murders than Claire could probably count.

She descended upon them with all of the righteous fury of a goddess scorned, pouring the entirety of her rage into slaying each and every foe that thought it smart to engage her. Three became thirty, thirty became three hundred. The smarter ones had run and the loyal ones had died. When all was said and done, she had laid waste to any that stood against her. It was rash, foolish, and definitely ran the risk of upsetting the balance she had sworn to protect with her life. But her scorched earth temper prevailed and she stood amongst the fallen, looking up at the high city walls.

“Let. Me. In.” She demanded tersely. From the top of wall a platform lowered, a quintet of well armed soldiers stationed in a strategic formation. Their guns were drawn and pointed at her. She wasn’t quite sure if this was hilarious or infuriating so she stood there with one hand on a cocked hip and her blade at the ready.

“State your intended purpose here.” One said, his voice distorted by the full faced helmet he wore.

“Seriously? Unless some other pink hair is off gallivanting around the countryside slaying your enemies for you, you sure as shit know who I am.” She snarled the words, drawing the blade up to point it at the one who spoke. It was taken instantly as an act of aggression and their itchy trigger fingers peppered her with lead. They failed to penetrate her armor nor bit into the scant bits of exposed flesh on display. When the gunfire faded, she was still on her feet and the five soldiers were beyond perplexed as to why she hadn’t fallen.

“Boys. Firstly, what have I told you about waiting until you have confirmed identity to go for the kill? Secondly, before I was just annoyed. Now I’m really ****ing pissed off. Now. As a lady of the royal court of Lucis and the overseer of the balance of life and death, you can either take me on a lovely ride to the top so I can get to the Citadel, or I can introduce each of you to your fates just a little early. Take your pick.”

[Claire Gallows]

V. Revisitation and Reclamation

“I really do apologize for that, Commander. They couldn’t be certain it was you…” The Immortal Shogun said regretfully as the convoy took them through the quiet city and toward the center. The line of armored SUVs were some of the only vehicles on the road and as she cast her gaze out along the street, a deep frown settled on her lips. Insomnia was quiet, a shell of what it had once been. A few of the buildings near the city’s edge were cordoned off, condemned due to the mortar damage they had sustained. Further in there were a few more cars and less broken buildings but it was still unsettling.

“I understand. But who the hell else would clear out two companies of Niflheim forces and not butcher the good guys when they came down to try and threaten me? C’mon Cor. Give me a break.” She rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat, going back to staring out the window at the desolate city.

“Someone wanting us to trust them enough to get into the city.” He shrugged a little, sounding unconcerned that such a thing could be the case.

“If that’s what it was, I’d say it worked. But really, I can’t stay long. I just need to stop by the Citadel and see if I can find something. Then I’ve gotta go.” Her voice low, she thought at the very least she owed him an explanation. Of all the people in Lucis, he was the one she trusted the most aside from her husband.

“I suppose you’re right. Looking for something in particular?” His quiet probing was only enough to reach her ears, kept low enough that their driver couldn’t hear a word. The young man up front barely looked old enough to drive, fresh faced as he was. Her jaw worked as she chewed at the inside of her cheek, contemplating just how much she wanted to saw. Trust, as much as she had in him, still didn’t mean she could lay all of her cards out.

“Just something I think got left behind the night of the Trinity Ball.” A twist of the truth but it could pass for the real thing. The Commander nodded slowly, the vehicle coming to a stop outside of the Citadel. The last time she had stepped from a car in front of this building, she had been eight months pregnant and wearing a rather uncomfortable dress. There had been a long red carpet and tuxedo clad valets. None of the glitz remained, the Citadel’s steps were barren and void of any decor or excess help. She grabbed for the door before the driver had enough time to get out and come around and she was halfway up the stairs before he could even process what had just happened.

“Don’t mind her. She’s in a hurry.” Cor said grimly to the befuddled driver, clapping the young man on the shoulder before following after the pink haired maelstrom that was quickly sweeping the front doors of the grand building. With the Commander in her wake and the recognition that she had amongst the trained men of the land, those standing guard let her by with ease and she found herself thinking back to what Cor had said about trusting someone enough to let them into the city. Talk about a security flaw. Alas, there was no time to address it, her time there in short supply.

With barely a moment to say hello, she was setting off down the main corridor, retracing her path by memory as she walked with her eyes closed. She had to funnel the entirety of her attention into feeling for any hint of Chaos that might be lingering there. There was nothing. Not even a hint.

“God damnit.” She muttered, coming to a stop in one of the lesser used halls. Hands on her hips, she stared at her feet, willing something, anything to help her out. It wasn’t until she looked up that she saw it. Once again before her, the simple map of glowing pink had appeared out of thin air. Full of holes, one in particular seemed to pulse brighter than the others.

“Oh. Creepy map. That’s right.” Talking to herself in the empty halls of the Citadel. That wasn’t weird or anything, right? Hesitantly, she touched a finger to the gap and much like before a thin tendril of shimmering blue began to snake outward. It traced the hall’s length, the manifestation of all she was missing disappearing right in front of her eyes leaving behind only the odd strand of blue hanging in the air. A shifty glance went both directions before she slowly followed the path. Down the hall, around a corner, down another hall. It took her around one more corner and then without warning went straight down into the floor. She swore under her breath and doubled back until she met the staff access staircase that would take her to the floor below.

It became a matter of if she could find where she had left off. The labyrinth like halls below hardly matched those above and she was on the verge of turning back around to try again when she finally found the sneaking string of blue protruding from the ceiling and passing through a set of double doors into the staff’s medical ward. With the tight lockdown everyone was under, the ward was completely void of any living beings which made it all the more pronounced when she pushed open both doors only to be hit full on with the overwhelming weight of the energy within. Her little blue guide was gone and she was left only with the hazy and disorienting darkness.

“So… we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?” She asked the emptiness. As if on her command, the Chaos that had lingered before her compacted itself into a tight globe just like it had in Hope’s containment chamber. Instinct had her stepping back, preparing for impact. But impact never came. It hovered in the air, bobbing up and down as if carried on a gentle current. Her brows furrowed and her lips pursed. This wasn’t expected. The little bobbling ball came a little closer, inviting an engagement, so carefully brought her hand up. Like a puppy awaiting scratches, it diverted to her hand and settled eagerly on her upturned palm.

“The easy way then?” Hesitant and still waiting for the worst, she could hardly contain her surprise when instead of slamming her full force, the little ball of fuzzy black popped and snaking wisps of Chaos rolled over her fingers and wiggled through the seams in her gauntlets. She sucked in a breath, her head light with the sudden infusion but beyond that all seemed well. It was easy. Too easy.

[Claire Gallows]

VI. Contrasting Colors

It shouldn’t have been so easy, reclaiming that fraction. With her mind weighed down by suspicion, she returned to Valhalla. Had it been thanks to those she had slain outside of Insomnia that she had brought a little more of her heart home? She could dwell on it later. Time was running out and she still had so much to do. Serah’s time was ticking more quickly every moment and Claire’s own was moving far faster than it should have. Somehow, she had to piece together the broken pieces, reclaim surefire immortality and on top of it, find a way to keep Serah from dying.

Again.

How many times had she seen Serah die? Of all the lines that spread outward from Valhalla’s eye, Claire had watched her sister die more times than she could count. Of visions and of violence, and everything in between, Serah had met her fate in every way imaginable. And from Valhalla, Claire could see it all. Every possibility that spawned outwards from each decision made, every divergent path that took a different Serah on a different journey.

But at the end of the day, the only one that mattered was the Serah in the here and now. The one that Claire could hold and hug and hear and touch. No longer was Claire going to let her slip away. She would find a way once and for all to make sure that Serah was given the life she deserved. The time that she needed. All of it. It was with renewed determination that she set off to Chrysalia. With even more influence exerted over the world than even Lucis experienced, she knew that her time must be carefully measured and monitored. Unlike Lucis, though, she knew not where this beach was nor how to find it.

Compared to Lucis, Chrysalia was the sunrise after the blackest night. Formed by the god of gods himself but ran without interference from the remaining powers that be, it was blooming into a beautiful and prosperous land. Contrary to the beliefs of the fal’Cie, humanity found itself stable and capable of ruling itself without divine intervention. The lands were lush and the waters clear, and it was toward the coast that she found herself set on exploring. It could be a long and arduous task, covering the entire coastline like she was attempting, so she tried to narrow it down by the little bits and pieces that she could remember from the images that had flashed through her mind in Valhalla.

A beach. Palm trees. Fishermen with their little boats bringing in their catches for the day. Modest beachside homes and businesses. Lush and tropical and peaceful. It was a strange sort of familiarity amidst an alien land, reminiscent of home and normalcy in a way that the shores of Valhalla never could be. She worked her way through beachside town after beachside town, inquiring amongst the locals just where she might find what she was looking for. At first they knew not of what she spoke but the further south down the coastline she got, the more they were able to offer.

“Ay, Tenia, she’s looking for a lil fishing village with palm trees and a quiet beach. Real touristy looking. Sound like that place you get your oil from?” A man who called himself Bond hollered back over the shop’s counter to a young woman hunched over a sewing machine, half obscured by a semi-transparent curtain that fluttered in the salt tinged breeze that floated through the open door. She looked up from what she was working on, rose from her stool and shuffled out into the shop’s main room.

“Hmm. It could be. I would say maybe six or seven miles south, there’s a beach town called Tertius. They’ve got some lovely little seaside B and B’s and a wonderful fireworks display every summer.” Tenia came to rest her elbows on the counter as she explained. Across from her, a certain keyword seemed to catch the pink haired woman’s attention and she began edging back toward the door.

“Six or seven miles huh? If I hurry I can make it by dark. Thank you for the information, I greatly appreciate it!” She was quick to hurry out, leaving the two in the shop to wonder just what had her in such a rush.

“Fireworks festival ain’t until the end of the summer, is it?” Bond asked.

“Correct. Did she look familiar to you?” Tenia’s eyes were still on the door though the woman was long gone.

“Huh? Uh, no. Not that I thought anyways…” Scratching at his stomach, he looked from his wife to the door and back. She offered him a long suffering sigh and turned to head back to her work at the sewing machine.

“Nevermind. Hopefully she finds what she’s looking for.” Though Bond was even more confused than before, he took Tenia’s nevermind at face value and with a shrug, went back to lazily minding the storefront. At the south edge of town, the pink haired woman was moving full steam ahead in her quest to locate the mystery beach town from her vision. Forty five minutes later, she had reached the little village’s outskirts.

“Man… I really need to get into better shape.” Claire muttered as she slowed to a stop in hopes of catching her breath. The sun was setting in the west, casting brilliant patterns of rose and gold across the slowly rolling waves that lapped at the white sand beach. Much like the towns before, the scent of salt permeated through the air. It was like a cleaner, less fishy smelling version of Dockside mixed with Seaside. Buildings were spread out along the shore, some perched on stilts over the water and connected by sturdy floating walkways.

Gods die. Worlds crumble. Life begins anew. But some ideas never leave man’s mind and so she found herself standing at the edge of what looked to be Bodhum reimagined.

[Claire Gallows]

VII. The Twist of a Knife

“Who’s there?! Show yourself!” The call came from further down the beach, a large figure silhouetted against the setting sun came into view, heavy footfalls carrying him right toward her. Though her first thought had been to go for a weapon, she quickly realized that she recognized the voice.

“Snow? What’re you doing here?” She asked, stepping away from the shadows of the treeline and into view. Cautiously she approached him, bending this way and that to try and get a better look at the man. With the sun at his back, it made it rather difficult, but as she neared she knew she was correct.

“Lightning?” He seemed just as shocked to see her. The last time they had seen each other had been during the final thirteen days of the old world when Claire had been awoken as the Savior of souls and Snow had been the patron of the city of Yusnaan. Prior to that, their last encounter had been less than pleasant, ending with Claire kicking down his door and beating him until he was a sniveling mess. It wasn’t one of her better moments. Without warning, he closed the remaining distance between them and scooped her up in a tight hug. Being a foot taller than her, closer to seven feet than six, this meant Claire’s feet left the ground as he crushed her to his chest.

“Snow. Snow, stop, put me down. Ow!” She wriggled and squirmed until he set her back down on her feet, laughing. His blonde hair was long and shaggy but not unkempt and his crystalline blue eyes sparkled with what looked to be genuine mirth.

“I knew you’d be coming at some point… I just didn’t realize it’d be so soon.” He laughed once more, turning with a nod toward the village.

“I didn’t either… and I can’t really stay long.” This was shaping up to be a familiar conversation, the echoes of her talk with Cor still lingering in the back of her mind. Every minute that ticked by was one less she had and one more grain at the bottom of the hourglass.

“Walk with me then. I’m checking out a disturbance down that way. Someone swore up and down that they saw something I thought impossible.” He gestured down the beach, waiting for her to get her feet moving.

“Impossible huh? We’ll see, I suppose.” The pair ventured along the beach, avoiding the sleepy residential sector and winding wide around the business district, small as it was. Despite her need to hurry, she felt compelled to take her time. It was like strolling through Bodhum once more and she half expected to run across her old lieutenant or maybe some buddies from her unit in the Corps. She let loose a wistful sigh and turned one last look over her shoulder at the town before Snow led her through a thicket of brush and along a narrow sand covered path. The conversation was light, playing catchup over all that had been missed in the last year and a half or so since they’d last seen one another. He found out about her marriage to Noctis and the birth of the twins while she learned that he had remained single since coming to the new world, set on protecting the people of the town called Bodhum Tertius. Or just Tertius to most of the common people, many of whom didn’t remember Pulse or Cocoon and the original Bodhum.

“So how’s Serah?” He finally asked, broaching a subject that Claire herself had avoided like the plague. Slowing as night fell on the shore, he kept his voice low while he scanned the quiet dunes. To tell the truth or lie… that was the question.

“Not so hot. Those of us who stayed behind when Chrysalia was born seemed to have been skipped for the whole blank slate new start thing.” She whispered, trying and failing to keep the worry out of her tone. He glanced back at her, concern knitting his brows inwards. Whether due to the weight of his look or something else, Claire felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Sure enough, it was something else, and the behemoth of a monster crashed through the palm trees to take a swipe at Snow.

“Chaos monster?! How?!” Snow cried, bewildered as he was batted to one side like he weighed nothing more than a child may have. Claire tumbled backwards, drawing her gunblade along the way. Battered and worn, Overture had lasted through many a battle at her side. Snow was still recovering from the first blow when the beast roared and reared backwards, preparing to bear down on him with the dagger like claws that tipped its stumpy hands, each the size of garbage can lids. He whirled and brought his arms up before him, the first blow crashing down upon his guard.

It wasn’t much but it was the moment she needed. Diving underneath the locked meeting of man and beast, she surged upwards and drove Overture through the creature’s chest. Catching it right beneath what passed for a ribcage, it let free an ear shattering roar that sent Snow stumbling back. Without that buffer keeping the monster aloft, it soon came down upon her and its full weight landed atop her. Groaning to lament the fact she hadn’t worn armor on this visit, she managed to get her knees up between her and the fallen beast, leveraging it up enough to begin wiggling toward the faint bit of twilight visible between flesh and ground.

“Where in the heck did that thing come from?” Snow asked, helping to lift the dying beast enough for her to scoot out from under it. She came out empty handed, her blade still embedded in the monster’s chest. Getting to her feet, she leaned over the creature and with a crinkle of her nose, plunged her hand into its back. Sinking right through without even the slightest bit of flesh displaced, she funneled her concentration into taking back the Chaos that had brought this being to the Seen realm. The same woozy lightheaded feeling she had experienced in Lucis returned and it was then that she knew she had found the next piece. When the monster dissipated, all that remained was her gunblade and the inexplicable sensation that she was more whole than before.

“The Heart of Chaos fractured… that was a piece of it…”

[Claire Gallows]

VIII. Home Away from Homecoming

Once Claire and Snow were certain that there was no longer a threat to the people of Tertius, she was quick to depart once more. Some part of her promised that she would return but another part couldn’t bear the thought. Maybe she would bring Serah. Or maybe it would be too painful for Serah and the two sisters would be left with only the brokenhearted longing for home that would never again be fulfilled.

Though Rhy’Din was “home” now, it would never quite compare to the sense of belonging that came from Cocoon or Pulse. A land of flux, a city of vagabonds, nothing was permanent in Rhy’Din. Perhaps that what made it so hard to call it home, knowing any or all of it could be gone at a moment’s notice. Claire still held a link to the lands of before through Noctis but Serah only had Claire. Everything else, their friends, their “family”, they were either of Rhy’Din or elsewhere, but never from Pulse or Cocoon.

Home.

Such an odd concept.

Claire felt a strange sort of imbalance when she returned to Rhy’Din in search of some of the last pieces, only three remaining to make her whole once more. So why did she feel off kilter, like the ground under her feet was unsteady and liable to send her topsy turvy at a moment’s notice? Sure the roads in dockside were less than pristine but it shouldn’t have been enough to discombobulate her so.

Again she found herself retracing her footsteps. From where she had once parked Noct’s car then doubled back toward the north side of town, along the twisting and winding streets, through seedy alleys. Every step taken had her feeling more and more off, unsure of what she was doing and if she’d even find anything.

Rhy’Din and flux went hand in hand after all.

“Creepy map, creepy map, show me where to go.” Tilting steps matched the sing song slur of her words but sure enough the glowing pink overlay appeared before her. It seemed a bit begrudging, like it didn’t want to be seen on the dark streets of Rhy’Din, but a large patch to one edge lit up and wisps of blue radiated outwards.

“Wisps, wisps, will o’ the wisps. Follow the silly little blue thing.” Muttering along, she could have passed for any dockside drunkard but at this late hour, the fringe of the district was nigh deserted. Azure light pulsed and flickered like it may go out but still she followed, bobbing and weaving down this street and that until finally it came to a stop. Unlike Lucis there was no Chaos manifested here nor were there any monsters like there had been in Chrysalia. She came to a stop in the middle of the street, staring at the point on the sidewalk that was indicated by the looping blue tendril. Like a bloodhound it quivered in place, pointing out her final destination.

Why was this place familiar? Claire turned a full circle, trying to pinpoint the source of the overwhelming deja vu that had wriggled under her skin like a bad itch. A breeze cut through the narrow street, carrying with it indecipherable whispers. Murmurs of conflict and turmoil. She spun once more to case her surroundings. Again she came up short. Claire settled her gaze upon the sidewalk again and nearly tripped over her own feet as she stumbled backwards. A trio of semi-transparent silhouettes stood where there had been none before. Two of the three were feminine of figure, one just above the halfway point between five and six feet and the other just shy of the midway mark. The third stood above the other two, decidedly masculine and perhaps a few inches past six feet.

None of them paid her any attention even when she recovered from her stumble and inched closer. Their words were lost in the wind, reduced to the exchanged mumbling she had heard to begin with, but their vibrant gestures remained. Flippant motions of hands, exasperated shaking of heads, it was clear it was a disagreement of some sort. The male began to walk away only to come to a full stop when the shorter of the females threw her head back and began to laugh. It was unsettling from Claire’s point of view, no sound accompanying the silent shadow movie she was watching. The two taller figures turned toward the understandably creepy shorter one and it was then that Claire realized exactly what was happening.

They weren’t there. Not at this time anyways. Rather they were a replay of a moment that Claire herself had been a part of. Serah, Claire, and Mach had stood on this very street at three in the morning on the Ides of March. Beware and all of that. It was started innocently enough, Claire showing in hopes of scaring Mach off. The persistent man refused to take go away for an answer, much like a certain pirate had once upon a long time ago. The trio had bickered back and forth before Mach had finally agreed to leave.

Then Serah had to go and get all creepy.

It was a pretty typical Farron thing to do, really. See, mental stability really isn’t their thing. And so Claire and Mach were forced to contend with the Chaos rising within the petite pink haired girl. From afar, she watched the two taller silhouettes close in on the shorter on. From the front, the taller girl had surged forward to tackle the shorter. The male penumbra remained behind and the three were thrown to the ground with the weight of the expulsion of Chaos. There upon the ground, the tangle of silhouettes remained, frozen like someone had hit pause on the replay of this little snapshot.

“You cannot save her, you know. You can’t even save yourself…” Came the voice from behind her. Claire whirled around and instantly felt her mouth go dry when she realized just what she was dealing with.

[Claire Gallows]

IX. Seek Me For Comfort

“Yeul… Caius… you can’t be here…” Claire murmured, staring down the mismatched pair that stood before her. The former was small and petite, garbed like all of the Seeresses that had come before her. The latter was a face that had haunted many a nightmare of the Goddess, classically handsome, perpetually haughty, and lined with cruel consternation. He stood just behind her and the two stared right back at the sole woman in front of them. Wisps of Chaos danced around the edges of the apparition, lending an eerie ethereal glow to their flesh.

“We are not here. We are but a fragment of what was. But we cannot return to you for you are not worthy of eternal life.” Yeul said softly, her voice almost childlike in its innocence despite the weight of her words. Behind her, Caius looked far too smug at the implication of the Seeress’s heavy judgment.

“It is not for you to decide, Paddra Nsu-Yeul. You have been freed from your burden and I have taken it as my own. Now I only seek to reclaim what is rightfully mine.” Though Claire spoke with authority, a quiver of uncertainty laced her words and she tried not to react when Caius sneered. Yeul, the strange girl that she was, canted her head just slightly and sat quietly for far longer than Claire was comfortable with.

“The Guardian has not been released from his suffering. Still he languishes within his own despair. You failed to save him just as you will fail to save Serah.” The little Seeress held no emotion to her tone nor expression, a stoic and neutral party in their discussion. Yeul sat in stark contrast to the fuming deity radiating holy fury.

“SHUT. UP.” Claire finally snarled, her hands clenching into fists. One was brought up, a single finger extended to point at the girl. “You. Answer. To. Me. You do not decide what I do and you do not get to say who lives and who dies. And you,” she pointed at Caius, “I will deal with you later. Despair or not, you have no right to manipulate my sister like you did.”

Silence fell as Claire’s hand did. For a long moment, Yeul and Caius stared at her before finally he spoke.

“I did nothing to your sister… I know not of what you speak.” He shook his head, the feathers in his hair swaying with the motion. Claire fought back the inevitable rage at the thought he might lie to her. He had many a time before so it wasn’t a farfetched concept. Still she restrained her own judgment long enough to spit a few words between clenched teeth.

“Don’t lie to me, Ballad. I heard your voice from her lips.” Apprehensively, she rocked up onto her toes, ready to obliterate his manifestation if he slipped up even in the slightest way. What was one more battle against the Guardian? Again he shook his head.

“You speak of Chaos, not of me. But… if I were Chaos,” Caius began with a chuckle, moving to step in front of Yeul before continuing, “I wouldn’t have thought such a weak vessel would be worthy of my presence either.”

Claire snapped, launching forward at the man just like her silhouette had taken her sister to the ground only moments before. However unlike her collision with Serah, she met resistance before falling straight through the apparition. The sharp stabbing pain caught her at all of the points at which she had met the coalesced chaos, needling her until she felt the light before her eyes start to fade.

“When the world ends, she will end with us. She will melt into darkness. As we all will. Yes, you will share her fate…” The words began to fade along with her consciousness. Words she had heard long ago and thought she would never have to face again. Writhing in pain, Claire curled in on herself, a strained whimper escaping on a hissed breath.

Claire had reclaimed another broken piece but in the process, how much had she sacrificed?

She failed Caius.

She failed Serah.

She failed herself.

The empty street faded away and left only black in its wake.

[Claire Gallows]

X. The Divergent Waypoint

Claire awoke some time later to the feeling of someone trying to shake down her pockets. Evidently Dockside isn’t a good place to take a nap on the street. With a groan, she rolled and swung a hand at whoever or whatever it might be. It was a solid connection that brought about a surprised squeak, high pitched and either feminine or pre-pubescent, as they skittered backwards.

“Get out of my pockets before I bust your skull open.” She growled, blinking slowly as everything came back into focus. The street rat had fallen back on his butt and was staring at her with wide eyes.

“I… I thought you were dead!” He piped up, crab walking backwards on his hands and feet to get further away from her. Claire pushed against the ground to sit up, her head spinning and her body aching. The stabbing pain radiated from her temples and throbbed steadily through her skull. She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead and groaned again, eyeing the boy. The budding pickpocket was dirty and disheveled, maybe ten or eleven years old. His pants were two sizes too big and his shoes looked to be three sizes too small. It was a pitiful sight.

“Clearly not. Look kid, you really shouldn’t be out here. It’s not safe.” Slow and sluggish, she got to her feet, wobbling a little before stabilizing.

“Says the one who was passed out on the ground here…” He pointed out sheepishly, also getting to his own feet. His toes wiggled, poking out of the worn tips of his sneakers, one of which was held together by nothing more than duct tape and the grace of god.

“Ngh. Yeah, yeah. Listen, there’s a place in Dragons Gate. If you don’t have a place to stay, they’ve got room for you. If you need anything else, please stop by and get cleaned up.” Her tone carried the motherly nagging brought down upon many a street urchin before him, but she was gentle in her chiding. Stuffing a hand in her pocket, she withdrew a small handful of silver and offered it over. Hesitation limning his movements, he inched forward before darting in to snatch the offering away, greedily stashing it just as quickly as he took it.

“Th-thanks lady…” The nameless boy stutter-stepped backwards until he was out of reach before turning about face and taking off. She was soon alone on the street once more. On the horizon, the faintest fingers of dawn were beginning to push at the edge of night, lending a hint toward how long she had been out. Truth be told, she was lucky to be alive, and the smart thing to do would be to take her leave.

Inching out of the Dockside district, she ducked through a place they called Rookery Row, a shady encampment that straddled the border of Dockside and Old Temple. It wasn’t safe but it was far quicker than taking the sanctioned paths between districts. Taking care to skirt the edges and avoid the shadier sorts, she soon found herself embraced by the relative safety offered by the aged brick and worn glass of the Old Temple district. It was a balancing sort of familiarity, one that helped straighten out her unsteady gait and scattered thoughts. With renewed vigor, she swept north toward the city center and the marketplace. If it were anything like her most recent encounter, she needed to prepare herself for the worst possible result.

With the uneasiness of Dockside behind her, soon Old Temple faded as well in favor of passing one of the RTS transfer stations to cross the bridge into the Market district. The sun was continuing to inch its way up from behind the horizon and streaks of golden orange and baby pink stretched lazily through the remaining stars. She had just passed the Chamber of Commerce when her phone buzzed against her butt.

“Gyaaah. What?!” Plucking the phone from her back pocket, she punched at the talk button and fumbled the device up to her ear. There was a pause on the other end, dead air hanging between caller and receiver for a few moments before there was a quiet clearing of a throat.

“Lady Caelum?” It was the familiar voice of one, Remigio Trevisano. The Caelum enforcer was one she talked to often, typically for business, which she obviously had no time for right now.

“Ah, yeah. Hey Remi. Can you make it quick? I’m sort of crunched for free time at this moment.” She shifted the phone from one ear to the other, regaining the swift pace that took her through the market square. Remigio chuffed an exasperated sigh.

“Picked up a possible missing persons report on the scanner… among the usual transients an’ no names, they listed yer sister. Bergheim confirmed he’s been unable to establish contact. No activity on ‘er mobile either.” He quickly ran through the ‘too long, didn’t read’ version of his concerns and waited with baited breath for her reaction.

“You’re… ****ing kidding me right?” She came to a stop, stunned by the report. Passing her free hand back through her hair, she shook her head in disbelief.

“I wish I was. Yer orders, ma’am?” Remi asked quietly.

“All enforcers mobilize. Tap the normal lines, reach out to our contacts. If there’s so much as a whisper of where she’s at, I want to know. Be my primary point of contact, Rem. I’m counting on you.” Claire tried to keep the hard edge off of her voice. Though she mostly failed, Remigio gave her an affirmative and hung up.

She didn’t even have the chance to stuff her phone back into her pocket when the blast of energy blindsided her and bowled her right off her feet. Her head bounced against cobblestone as she tumbled, and for the second time in less than a day, the world faded to black around her.

[Claire Gallows]

XI. The Missing Piece

A high pitched scream yanked her back to consciousness just in time for her to realize she was the one screaming. Every nerve ending in her body felt like it had been set aflame, like she was burning from the inside out. Twisting and writhing, the involuntary squirm was all she could do to try and ride out the pain that pulsed through her. What in the hell had just happened?!

The sun was only a smidgen higher than it had been so she hadn’t lost much time and when she finally mustered the strength to open her eyes and look around, she saw nothing that could have blown her so clean off her feet. Her head was light though, a feeling she should have been getting used to by now. Once the pain died down to a dull throb, she put the two and two together.

“A little warning on that one would have been nice…” She muttered, holding her head in her hands as she waited for the world to stop spinning. Something sticky and hot trickled down her face and neck, prompting her to brush her hands through the substance and pull them away to examine it. Nearly black and fairly viscous, it was a similar consistency to blood left under a high noon sun. It smelled like blood too, but it was seeping from her own pores, dripping from her ears and nose.

“...Impossible…” Claire stared at the vitae that covered her fingertips. With the concentration of Chaos in her veins, she shouldn’t have been able to pour such fluid forth but as sure as the day was long, she was bleeding. Profusely. Her lips were sticky with the tar-like black substance and the corners of her eyes seeped with the same. Pulling her shirt upwards, she wiped it away, succeeding only in smearing it across her flesh like war paint even as the blood continued to flow.

Climbing to her feet, she swayed and faltered a few steps to her right, catching herself on a light pole. She leaned against it for support and felt around for her phone. Realizing she hadn’t got it back into her pocket before she had been so unceremoniously knocked out by that last infusion, Claire looked around for where it might have gone. The day’s first light was working its way over the market square and it bounced across tiny shards of broken glass that lit up like rainbow sparkles.

“Oh no. Not again.” She groaned, spotting her phone face down just a few feet further from the skid mark of broken glass. Gorilla glass, her ass. Though she already knew it was toast, in the moment between picking it up and turning it over, it became Schroedinger’s Phone, simultaneously alive and dead. The guise was ruined and her hope struck down when she espied the shattered screen, half the glass missing and the rest laid out in an intricate but otherwise disorganized spider web of doom.

It was hardly what she needed right now, what with Serah possibly missing and all, so she’d have to replace it as soon as possible. In the mean time though, she thought it best to tap the best resource she had outside of the Caelum enforcement division. Her unsteady steps turned her toward the 27th Special Operations Division of the Rhy’Din Watch, located right there in the heart of the marketplace.

She didn’t expect to be stopped on the way there. And certainly not by the flash of pink and the burst of blue. Her dear friend, the creepy Heart map, blazed into full glory right before her eyes as though keeping her from continuing on her way. Claire stepped left and the pink wall moved with her. She slid right and again it followed.

“Come on, I don’t have time for this.” A swat of her hand at the pink glow resulted in stubbed fingers against an impossible solid surface. The lone remaining gap pulsed angrily at her, pleading with her to fill it in. There was only one spot left.

One piece to secure her life, her immortality, her ability to remain in the seen realms.

Serah could wait for one teensy tiny shard, couldn’t she?

No. There was no waiting. Not when it came to this. Not when it came to Serah.

But it was one piece. She had come so far, was she going to bring her momentum to a screeching halt?

Yes. Yes, she was.

She didn’t anticipate the five tendrils of blue that sprung from the gap in the map and shot toward her. Narrowly ducking, she exhaled with relief only to be caught on the backlash, each one snaking around her, pulling and tugging. Two on each wrist, the remaining strand pointed upwards, willing her to return to Valhalla for the final leg of the journey. Claire shook her head and pulled hard to break free of the restraints, a trio of steps putting a small amount of distance between herself and the now fading pink glow.

“Not. Now. I need to do this first and then we can go home. Please… just let me do this.” She pleaded, rubbing at her wrists where a faint hum of energy crackled across her skin where the guide strands had held. Azure retracted, pink withered away. Claire would count it as a victory for now.

She had a Watch station to visit.

[Claire Gallows]

XII. Sanctum Defiled, Solace Broken

With the 27th Watch Station behind her, Claire stumbled back into the streets of Rhydin under the weight of a whole mess of conflicting emotions. Serah was gone, disappeared just like that. No sign of her anywhere and a worrisome report of people,--dead and alive,-- being snatched at random. The rain had died to a sputtering mist, insufficient for covering up the spill of hot, salty tears that cut their way down her cheeks. She didn’t stop until she was out of the main market square and safely concealed within the shadows of an alley flanked by two high buildings. Slumping against one of the damp stone walls, she resisted the urge to sink down to the ground and instead lofted her eyes skyward to peek at the thin sliver of grey sky that could be seen.

“Give me the strength I need to finish this.” She murmured, her eyes falling closed as the cool bitty drops of rain splashed against her lids and soothed the splotchy redness that had spread across her face. There was so much she needed to do. Fix her phone, find Serah, locate the final piece of the Heart of Chaos. And just how much time did she have to do so? She wasn’t sure. Could she hold time here while in Valhalla? Another question she couldn’t answer.

“Give Serah the strength to come home.” Another quiet murmur left her lips before she reopened her eyes and stood up straight. She took a deep breath, held it, then slowly exhaled to calm her nerves. Who was she asking? Herself? Maybe. She didn’t know.

When the people of Chrysalia sought comfort from the higher powers, they thought not of her but of some memory of Etro. The cast out goddess, left to wallow in her despair. She of the fallen, she of the reborn, the Keeper of the Gate. Claire stood in her shadow, a silent puppeteer pulling on the strings of humanity when their time came, never to be known by any but the select few who knew of her fate. Those she had fought side by side with until the final day came and they were released from their burdens. How much had they carried when they moved on? Could any compare?

Hope. He had resumed his post at the refounded Academy, taking in those who hadn’t the slightest idea of just how important he had been in the formation of their world. His mother’s soul was long lost to the Chaos and he never saw her again, not even after the remaining souls were reborn in Chrysalia.

Snow. He had lost everything. Everyone. He had only himself and some strange sense of duty for a town that thought itself to be Bodhum incarnate, if Bodhum were smaller and less serene. He clung desperately to what he had before, false bravado and a hero’s machismo, behind which a perpetual sadness remained. Having sat alone for the five hundred years before the end of days, he had nothing but time to reflect upon the decisions he had made and the people he had hurt. Claire, or at least part of her, had been able to sleep through five centuries of turmoil and suffering.

Noel and the last Yeul. Freed from their stations of Guardian and Seeress, they were free to live their lives without interference from the no longer existent gods. All of the Yeuls that came before melted away into the darkness of the Chaos as it receded into the newly reformed Unseen. But Noel finally got to see her again and never would he know the pain of laying her to rest until she lived to a ripe old age.

Fang and Vanille. Of all those Claire had known, she could never quite imagine what those two had been through. From the War of Transgression to the coming of Ragnarok to Vanille’s centuries spent as a pawn for the Order, listening to the cries of the dead while Fang was powerless to do anything to help her. Over sixteen hundred years had the pair been at each others’ side, a relationship transcending love, war, and the end of the world.

Sazh and Dajh. Many a family had been torn apart by the fal’Cie but there was one that stood out to her for reasons she couldn’t quite understand. Or maybe she understood better than she wanted to. The elder Katzroy had gone to the ends of the world for his son, risking life and limb in hopes of saving his son from a fate worse than death. Claire would have done the same for Serah.

Claire still would.

There was no more time to mope, she had to take action now. Wiping the wet mix of tears and rain from her eyes, she slipped free from the dark of the alley and back into the market. Only the briefest of detours provided a replacement for her trashed phone and she was quick to place a series of calls to all the appropriate parties. She only needed a little bit longer, an hour or two by Rhydin’s standards if she played her cards right.

All ducks in a row, she sucked in a breath and made the final return to Valhalla. Unlike Chrysalia and Rhydin, Valhalla was no place for street clothes and under the weight of her Will, the borrowed hand-me-downs from the 27th’s lost and found box were replaced by throat to toe armor. Her silver, gold and white valkyrie-esque armor had been replaced with a far more regal get up made up of gold, black, and navy, streamlined to protect every inch of her body. It was a suit made for war and she was in for the fight of her life.

No sooner had her feet found purchase upon familiar sands did she feel the heat of the fire. A city made entirely of Chaos and stone was burning right before her very eyes. How could it be? At the center of the inferno was the Temple of the Goddess, engulfed from the foundation all the way to the tips of the spires that reached desperately for the sky, pleading for salvation that would never come. A burst of blue appeared before her, her guidance at least bringing her home.

It wanted her to go into that.

And so she did.

[Claire Gallows]

XIII. Degeneration

Diving headlong through the wall of fire that bordered the entirety of the city, the flames lapped and tickled at her flesh, offering unspoken promises of eternal sleep and peace. Decay permeated the air and the further Claire got into the city, the more she worried it might very well crumble where it stood. The heat made it hard to breathe but she pressed on, deeper and deeper to follow the azure strands that beckoned her at every turn. Choking smoke made her double back twice, forcing her to find an alternate route to her final destination.

At last she emerged at the final stretch, a five hundred yard path that danced at the edges with flames of all colors. The technicolor rainbow might have been pretty if it weren’t so unsettling. It was a destructive red carpet that welcomed her home, tempting her to join the chaos once and for all. The blue tethers flickered briefly as though hesitating to lead her through such peril then doubled their glow, reinforcing their steadfast desire to send her straight through the growing fire on either side of the narrow passage. The longer she waited, the worse it seemed to get so with one last breath of breath air sucked in between clenched teeth, she dashed into the heat.

Her footing was sure but her head was spinning with a ferocity that threatened to tip her right over into the first plane of fire that would accept her. The threat soon became a reality as she felt her precarious balance tilt to one side. The panicked gasp had her sucking in hot air full of soot, turning the cry into a croak. She couldn’t even scream when she felt the sudden jerk of being pulled forward with such force that it gave her whiplash. It was enough to pull her feet free of the blackened walkway and she landed ungracefully in a crumpled heap.

Claire was dead.

That was her first thought at least. She lifted her head to see what befell her and what Hell one such as she would be relegated to. The flames had died and Valhalla was smoldering around her. Her head was light and her body was heavy, and it took her three tries before she could finally get back to her feet. Her armor was stained black, the gold and navy muted past the point of recognition. She bled a steady trickle of dark blood from her both ears and one nostril but other than that and some singed hair, she was alive.

Claire wasn’t dead.

Thank the gods for small favors. She had been thrown to the temple’s front steps, the black monolith looming over her. With the crackling flames subsiding, silence blanketed the landscape, lending an eerie soundtrack to accent the tinnitus that left a hollow ringing in her ears like funeral bells left to toll long after their time. The great doors stood open, the cavernous hall within set to a pitch black that swallowed any hint of twilight that slipped through the slowly clearly soot and smoke. Something within drew her, a weary battered moth to an invisible flame, and she climbed the steps like it might be the last time she did so. Pausing at the top, she looked out across the ruined city, her shoulders weighed down by a whole host of increasingly negative thoughts.

Turning her back on the dead city, she faced the dark within and marched into the heart of the temple. It was a near perfect replica of the original, rebuilt by the reformed Unseen Realm at her request. The familiarity made the time spent here easier, made it pass more quickly as if such a thing were possible in this limbo like place. Far above the city, the towering spires stuck up like knives seeking to carve through the sky and it was to the topmost tower that she climbed, led only by the faintest flickers of blue at each turn. When at last she reached the peak, she was stunned to find she was not alone. A ghostly quartet loomed before her, causing her to falter at the top of the stairs.

To the left, Caius’s tall form cast a long shadow over the circular room, cut off only by the far wall where it bent upwards at a sharp angle. To the right, Yeul stood as a sharp contrast to the Guardian. But a wisp of a girl, Claire thought she could nearly see through the young woman. They stared at Claire with empty eyes devoid of emotion. It was hard to pull her gaze from them until she realized who stood between them. Barely corporeal, the essence of Etro herself lingering the space between, shades of white and purple-black forming her entire being. Held together only by the threads of Chaos, the one who tore herself apart as a result of her despair also looked back at Claire. Unlike Yeul and Caius, Etro’s white eyes looked upon her with pity, mourning the sight of the woman before her. And finally a face that Claire didn’t recognize.

The last woman, standing between Caius and Etro, seemed barely a woman at all. Vaguely she resembled the torn woman to her left, had Etro been whole, except for the webwork of black lines beneath her skin. They spread and bled into wide swaths then constricted to narrow lines to cut paths to every inch of visible flesh, seeming to creep and change with each shift of the light. Realizing the resemblance, Claire at last realized just who she was staring at. Mwynn, the most of God himself. The recognition must have registered in her expression, because the disfigured woman gifted her with a tender smile.

“You have come at last.” Yeul spoke first, her tone quiet and her gaze somber.

“We weren’t sure if you would.” Said Caius. He didn’t even sound smug about it. Claire stared at him intently then bounced her attention back across the gathered group.

“Why was the city on fire? Why’re you here? What do you want from me? Where is the last piece of the heart?” The questions exploded forth without preamble, the first barely finished before the next began. Etro and Mwynn exchanged a knowing looking then cast their eyes to Yeul.

“Be calm, Gatekeeper. There is much to tell you and little time in which to do so.” Yeul said softly, looking down the line of her comrades then back at Claire, who still stood rooted to the spot at the top of the steps. When it seemed that Claire’s silence was going to continue, Yeul nodded gently and spoke up again. “The city burns to cleanse it for there is no greater purifier than fire. You will find any… lingering… imperfections resolved.”

“O...kay. Imperfections?” Claire asked. Yeul’s explanation only served to confuse her further. The little Seeress’s manifestation smiled sadly up at Claire.

“In time you will understand. The answers will reveal themselves if you are worthy.” The Seeress said. Cryptic. It figured.

“Worthy? And just how do I know if I am?” Claire was hesitant to ask.

“Seek that answer within. Do you believe yourself worthy? Do you believe that you would be led here if you were not?” It was Caius who spoke this time. Claire’s gaze dashed across the line of figures to meet his voice.

“Yes. No. Yes. Of course I am. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.” Claire said finally. Perhaps she was regretting the slew of questions she had thrown at the crowd.

“Are you? Would you be?” Caius asked, stepping closer to her. Her back straightened and she eyed him uneasily, not trusting him even if he didn’t seem to be the man proper. He stopped before he made it to her. “Your dalliances beyond the Unseen make us question this. Your improper invocation of the Heart of Chaos, your heart, upon an unstable vessel. Your meddling in the affairs of mortals. Your alteration of the timeline. Is the balance in danger under your protection?”

They were valid, if hypocritical, questions. How many times had she violated the covenants of her mantle? Maybe they were here to strip her of her power. Claire frowned but lifted her chin to meet the collective gaze of the judges. Their faces ran the gamut of emotions; stern, sympathetic, sorrowful, and serene.

“Dalliances are unheard of, aren’t they?” Claire shot back sarcastically before she paced forward to walk the line.

“I watched the Heart of Chaos drive a good man mad.” Her gaze fell on Caius.

“I saw the whimsy of the gods inflicted upon mortal men time and time again. For pain, for pleasure, to prove a point, and sometimes just for the hell of it.” She looked upon Mwynn and Etro.

“And don’t even start to act like alteration of the timeline is some unheard of occurrence. It happens naturally whether we like it or not. Every decision a man makes spawns an alteration no matter what I might try to do to stop it.” Claire came to stop in front of Yeul, the much shorter woman looking up at her with all the stoic irreverence that she might have expected of Caius. “And still, I have guarded the balance with every ounce of my being. I have made sacrifices on behalf of myself, my family, and my home world to ensure we never again experience what you and you helped bring upon us.”

A sharp point indicated both Caius and Yeul and they exchanged a brief but meaningful look. Mwynn stepped forward then, reaching for Claire with blackened hands oozing chaos like it were a thick pus. Her hands wrapped around the Savior’s wrists and pulled her in close. Claire was torn between comfort and dread, but some part of her knew that Mwynn would never do her harm. She felt Chaos’s influence slither over her skin, chilling her flesh to the bone while managing to fill her soul with a familiar sort of warmth.

Mwynn opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a cacophonous chorus of screams. Hundreds, if not thousands of voices filled the tower’s chamber all at once and Claire tried to rip her arms away from Mwynn’s grasp to cover her ears only to find the Mother’s grasp solid. The mournful laments of the dead shattered her composure and it was only then that she heard the message beneath. The Chaos was not there to judge her or punish her but rather prepare her.

He bides his time, unvanquished. You will pay the supreme price should you fail to stop him. Guard closely your Heart or give your life for the Balance.

“He who?!” Claire asked, trying to scream above the cries of those long lost to the sea of Chaos. Abruptly, they cut off and in a single blink, she found herself alone ago. Gone were the four spectres and in their place was a single globe of solid energy. It shivered and trembled in place, the final piece of the puzzle. Five for five, Claire had them all. She didn’t even wince when she reached for the last one and felt it impact her fingertips like she had jammed them against a wall. Curling and uncurling her fingers a few times, she stole another look around the chamber and reluctantly slipped for the stairs with the knowledge that the Heart of Chaos was now full and intact.

Who was He and what did He want?

The question would have to wait for an answer. Claire needed to ensure the Heart of Chaos would never disappear again. Then she would go find Serah.

The To-Do just kept getting longer.