"I want to show you something."

That was all. No, How are you? or even, Why? but rather, I want to show you something. He found her at the base of Mt. Ordeals, as if he had been waiting for her. But he didn’t know she was coming, or what she had to say. She knew because a soft smile graced his lips, if only for a moment; he was happy in the quiet, dignified way that he allowed himself to be happy.

She, however, was not happy, and it was eating her up inside.

"Is it important?"

"No."

He held out a hand, and she scowled. "I can walk."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged and launched, landing high over the path. He stood, looking down, waiting for her to follow. And if it weren’t for that, she felt that she might as well just leave.

Instead, she spoke a Word, and the world seemed to spin and fade. It hurt, more than she expected it would, and she found herself short of breath, albeit by Kain’s side. He didn’t seem to notice, like she thought he might, but took it in stride and went farther.

She followed, feeling fooling, feeling the magic fading and the sickness spreading, as he made his way up the mountainside, taking his own path. In these few years, she realized, he must have discovered all the little ledges. At once, Mt. Ordeals seemed perfect for a dragoon, and she wondered if he was ever going home... or if this was all he needed.

It was getting harder, taking two spells in succession to keep up. She appeared on the slope above him abruptly, and waited. Taking his offered hand, she climbed carefully down to his level; she paled at the thought of falling, at having to catch herself and do it all over again. For a moment, she thought perhaps he was waiting because of her, because she was wearing thin. But he wasn’t – and that was foolish. He had paused because of the near-distant dragon that had crawled out into the sun, stretching its wings in the wind.

"We’ve been... sharing, for weeks." Kain picked his words carefully. "We crossed paths twice; I’m certain it would like to see me gone, one way or the other."

"You were here, first." Rydia scowled, but the dragoon averted his eyes. "Weren’t you?"

"Yes..."

"And you’re going to back down," she pressed, "just like that?" He didn’t answer, and she tried a different way. "I might be able to talk to it for you."

"It’s not friendly."

She didn’t ask. There were Monsters, and there were monsters; she had learned that much the difference. Instead, she cleared her mind, feeling out the distance between the stars. "I can do something, at least."

"Rydia..."

The dragon had seen them, and launched into the air. It landed short, crashing to the ground before the God-King, himself. Lowering its head, it hissed a challenge – for it was proud and courageous, and not daunted by anyone. Bahamut thundered in response – for he was Summoned.

They lunged at one another, skidding and snapping down the precipice until they were airborne. So long weakened, Rydia could feel his strength coursing through her, and ebbing. The dark magic was failing her; the power she forced behind Bahamut was fading, and yet she could feel his every scratch and every bruise, every tear and every drop of blood lost.

The dragon scratched at her throat, teeth tearing in a way her claws couldn’t match. Her inner fire seared them both, and it was hard to see beyond the blaze. Rydia, wasn’t her, but echoed in her mind Rydia, Rydia, Rydia... The summoner reeled, striking the ground and sniffling her own blood. Kain stood over her, scowling. He didn’t explain, and for that he didn’t have to; she knew Bahamut had lost, and with him she had lost yet another part of herself. Now, she was no more aware of the dragon’s mind than she was of her blood on the dragoon’s knuckles.

By the time she had picked herself up, Kain had leapt into action. By the time she had regained her breath, he was under the dragon’s claws – a cat-pinned mouse – and she couldn’t focus enough to do, but stood queasy and stared. It recoiled with a snarl, and she didn’t see why, but Kain scrambled to his feet even as the dragon took to the air.

The dragoon landed below her, and she worked to pull him up; he couldn’t do it himself, and she feared.

"It’s no use," he huffed, even as she struggled to support his weight. The dragon was watching them from its new perch, as if ready to pounce again. Their survival was dependent upon her, but she had so little left. Seeking deep inside, desperate, she found the Word and the diving dragon vanished, and the shadows changed direction.

The beast was out there still... she could hear it breathing, feel its fire down their backs. Safe for the moment, they crept between the rocks, deeper down into the mountain. Fighting back a coughing fit, she berated Kain, while she still could.

"You didn’t have to break my nose," she spat at him.

"True," he chuckled darkly, "I could have let you die."

"Don’t talk like that." They were alive, barely, alone in the deep, down darkness. The dragon wouldn’t find them – neither would anyone else. Rydia was painfully aware that she couldn’t have supported Kain’s weight alone, and she prayed his strength would hold.

The air was stale and the ground sloped dangerously. They slipped, and tumbled, and she found herself flat, blind, and mocked by his feeble, echoing laughter.

"It’s not funny," she growled, and he snickered to a stop. Adjusting to the bright light, she squinted at the polished glass. Kain dragged himself to the near wall, and sighed.

"No. It’s rather beautiful, actually." He nodded behind her, and smiled. "In the middle."

Hesitant, Rydia stepped forward. The world seemed to fade away; she felt very small among the music of the planets, and the stares reflected off the walls. Eons passed before her eyes. Above it all, the voice of magic howled in rage and pain. Stumbling backward with a cry, she landed hard and sobbed.

"Beautiful?" she demanded, and her own echo rang in her ears. There was nothing else to hear, and she lifted her head weakly. "Kain?"

Crawling to his side, she whimpered; relieved and frightened to find him still breathing, so shallowly. But there was nothing she could do; the last of her power, glimmering faintly in the darkness of her soul, flickered out.