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Chapter Text

It took only an instant for what fragile levity they had mustered, the margin of goodwill between he and Egil, to dissipate. In that moment, Shulk was as inexperienced as the first day the mechon had marched upon Colony 9, staring with bald horror as his legs froze in place and he watched himself die.

This time, however, Shulk was a trained warrior. Visions were nothing more than a reflex. It was second nature to twist out of the way, throwing his foot backwards and watching Dickson's blast singe past his chest and shatter against the other side of the Mechonis’ core dome.

He felt nothing as he turned back and met Dickson’s eyes, only just visible over the barrel of the gun he had seen in his visions. Maybe he should have felt something- horror, or fear, anything other than the void gnawing at his chest- but Shulk could only watch as Fiora shouted something too hazy to hear, and Reyn tackled Dickson to the ground, and the fingers of Egil’s mech curled upwards to shield him.

Shulk’s visions always came accompanied with disbelief. They were at their barest not real, after all. The tug of denial at his stomach was a natural response to seeing the darkest outcomes possible, the deaths of himself and the people he loved. The visions hurt, but none more than this, than the sight of the man who had practically raised Shulk pointing a gun to his chest.

Shulk had seen Dickson kill him. He had watched his body crumple in Egil’s hands, Fiora screaming his name. It was a reality he had only just escaped, and was less escapable was the knowledge that Dickson would readily kill him.

“…Shulk? Can you hear me?”

It took a moment for Egil’s voice to register, and Shulk realized that Egil had been trying to speak to him.

“…yes. I can.”

The breath of relief from Egil was unmistakable. “Are you alright?”

Shulk honestly didn’t know. He didn’t feel alright, but he didn’t feel anything. “He missed.”

Egil’s lips pursed, as though he meant to say something else, but both of them looked up at Reyn’s shout.

“ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR MIND?!” He yelled, having regained his breath after pinning Dickson to the floor. “YOU COULDA KILLED SHULK!”

“Quit it,” Dickson snarled even as he struggled. “Let go of me, kid!”

“An’ let you shoot Shulk again?” Reyn asked, incredulous.

Dunban looked more disappointed than anything else. Shulk recognized the sadness shining in his eyes as the same from when he spoke to Mumkhar.

“Dickson,” he asked, only weakly authoritative, “why?”

Dickson spat on the floor in front of him, glaring up at Dunban. “I don’t have to explain anything.”

His gaze didn’t falter even as the tip of Dunban’s blade swung out before his face- instead, he laughed. “Oh? You’re going to kill me, Dunban?”

“Speak,” he said, “or perhaps I might.”

“You wouldn’t.” Dickson snarled. “You’re all such a heroic lot. Makes my teeth ache.”

“You didn’t tell us why.”

Their heads all jerked up as Shulk approached. The stares of each of his friends turned worried when their eyes fell to him- muted sadness in Dunban’s eyes, Melia’s gloved fingers tightening around her staff, Fiora’s eyebrows creasing.

“Shulk…” Fiora said, the rest implied as she met his eyes- was he sure, did he really want to talk to Dickson now?

Shulk nodded. More than anything, he needed answers. He hadn’t been lying, when he spoke to Egil earlier- all he wanted was to understand his enemies. It was the first step to peace.

“Why,” Shulk asked, “did you try to kill me?”

Dickson scoffed, turning his face to the other direction- though not without some scuffling between him and Reyn.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” Shulk heard him spit. “I don’t owe you anythin’.”

“How can you say that? After Shulk nearly died by your hands?!” Melia balled her fists.

Shulk closed his eyes. He didn’t feel her same outrage. “I only want to know why.”

The betrayal had only now begun to sting. Dickson had guided Shulk since the beginning- encouraging him to research the monado, saving him from Metal Face in Colony 6, and selling them mechon-effective weaponry. He had listened readily as Shulk spoke about the monado, had ruffled his hair when his notes were good, asked him questions about his observations.

Could those have been the same hands which had patted him on the back? The same voice which had comforted Shulk after Fiora’s death?

It would be so easy to resent him, but nothing was ever that simple. Shulk only wanted to understand, so they could come to some peaceful resolution.

Why Shulk? Why now? What reason could Dickson possibly have for trying to kill him, just as they finally achieved peace? What could he possibly want more than the end of this pointless, hopeless war? The silence dragged on for too long for Shulk not to wonder, until Dickson finally spoke, voice ragged.

“I was tryin’ to kill that machina warmonger. Make him pay for what he did to the Bionis.”

Shulk wondered if Dickson knew the full extent of his visions. Maybe he wouldn’t have chosen such a futile lie if he knew that Shulk had watched his successful assassination.

“Egil’s on our side now!” Reyn fired back on instinct. “It doesn’t matter what he did.”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Dickson snarled, attempting to jerk away from him. “Do you really think we can all just be friends, after he’s killed so many of us? After what he did to Colony si-“

His voice was cut off with a bang, and Dickson’s head fell to the floor, limp.

“Stun.” Sharla said before Shulk could cry out, hand outstretched. She held her gun in the air, free hand up in surrender. “It was a stun blast. I just-“

“It’s alright.” Dunban said. “Probably for the best. Our questions can wait.”

He looked a little worse for wear, if anything, eyes bloodshot as though he had already spent tonight unable to sleep. Nobody was brave enough to contradict him.

“Egil,” he asked, “are there any holding cells, or places that we can safely contain him for now? I’d like to question him as soon as he wakes up, as long as there’s no way he can hurt Shulk.”

“Yes.” Yaldabaoth slumped forwards with a droning whirr, as Egil stepped out of the cockpit. “I will accompany you to the Central Factory.”

“That would be most appreciated.” Dunban sheathed his sword, hand pausing on the hilt as he looked down at Dickson. “Reyn?”

“Already got it, Dunban.”

“Shulk?” Dunban asked, as Reyn hoisted Dickson over his shoulders.

Shulk felt every pair of eyes in the room fall onto him, as the anticipation built. He knew what they were wondering, even as Dunban struggled to ask.

“I’m alright.” Shulk hoped that saying it might convince himself to follow suit, to muster some action other than replaying the gunshot in loop in his mind.

It didn’t.

“Let’s go. We can make plans in the Central Factory.” Shulk said, waiting in bated silence for anyone to follow suit before Reyn started off to the teleporter.

“Well? C’mon then. He’s not getting any lighter here!”

It was almost enough for Shulk to smile, as Sharla hurried behind him, and Vanea approached Egil with a hug and soft words. They trickled out of the room slowly, with Shulk and Dunban bringing up the rear.

Dunban paused before the teleporter, and Shulk could tell from the way his fingers drummed against the hilt of his sword that he had something to say.

“I fought alongside him.” Dunban’s fingers stilled. “Dickson doesn’t miss.”

He had been aiming for Shulk. As much as Dunban and Shulk wanted to believe him, wished they lived in the simpler world where Dickson was simply blinded by revenge, it was those who were closest to him who knew best that it was a lie.

Shulk turned towards the teleporter.

“I know.”

As the force field blinked, and they stepped into the Mechonis’ Central Factory, Shulk was overcome with pain.

His muscles seized, and Shulk crashed to the ground. Although he tried to bite back the screams, embarrassed by the concern his friends had shown him last time, he could entertain no thought in his mind but the agony spiking through his veins.

He heard them cry out for him as he writhed, and a stabbing pain shot through his temple. A voice rang out in deafening clarity, so loud that Shulk’s hearing faltered.

“SURRENDER,” it boomed, and Shulk was overcome by the sudden sensation of a second body within his, attempting to burst out of his skin, burning white hot. He pulled his knees to his chest and clenched his teeth, trying to force it back down out of impulse alone.

With one final shudder, the sensation passed. Shulk gulped for air, throat scratched and voice hoarse, blinking back the tears that had flooded his eyes to see Fiora and Sharla crouched in front of him.

“Shulk?” Fiora asked, gingerly, eyes shining with worry. Shulk could manage only a weak nod.

“The monado again?” Dunban asked somewhere in the background, still too blurry to see. Shulk nodded again, thoughts swimming too feebly for coherence.

“This is regularly occurring?” He heard Egil ask.

“This is the second time,” Sharla explained, hand on her chin as she studied Shulk. “The first was just before we destroyed the Apocrypha Generator.”

Egil’s eyebrow raised. “And you permitted him to continue wielding it?”

“We didn’t have much of a choice if we wanted to stop you,” Dunban pointed out, resting his hand on his hip.

If someone as strong-willed as Egil could express shame, this downwards tilt of his head was probably it. “I… see.”

“Are you alright?” Fiora placed a gentle hand on Shulk’s shoulder. Shulk coughed, attempting to regain use of his voice.

“I’m fine,” Shulk rasped, but it was clear from the furrow in Fiora’s brow that she didn’t believe him.

“You should rest, at the very least.” Sharla interrupted, continuing when Shulk opened his mouth to protest. “Doctor’s orders.”

Shulk’s heartbeat raced. He couldn’t stand the thought of holding back his friends, not at such an important time.

His hands trembled beneath his scrutinizing gaze. What was that pain? Why had it only begun now? Was this the Curse of Zanza that Egil had spoken about?

Shulk was supposed to be immune. The monado hadn’t overtaken his body like it had Reyn, or crippled his arm like it had Dunban’s. Was he really so weak as to be unable to wield the monado any longer? He had to continue protecting his friends- he had seen just how many brushes with death his friends had, watched them die every time they might. What would happen if Shulk was no longer able to save them? He couldn’t just let them die.

“Hello?”

Blinking, Shulk could make out Fiora’s hand waving before his face. She had a teasing smile on her face.

“We asked if you could walk,” she said. Shulk stood slowly, testing weight on each of his legs, leaning against the monado before nodding.

“It seems like I’m fine,” he said, and Fiora shook her head.

“You’re not getting out of this one! You have to rest.”

“Alright, alright,” Shulk said. It didn’t seem as though they were going to let him keep on going.

“We can make camp nearby,” Egil’s heels clicked against the floor as he gauged their position. “I’ve spent nights in the Face Maintenance Bay. It’s hardly comfortable, but it is possible.”

“We could return to the ship,” Vanea suggested. Egil’s eyes lit up with recognition.

“Ah, yes. You did enter the core of the Mechonis with a ship.”

“I never did think I’d see you on Junks again,” She said with a wan smile, but a wince flickered across Egil’s face.

“I suppose father will be there.”

Vanea’s agreeable mood faltered as she placed a hand on Egil’s arm.

“He won’t cast you away, Egil.” She said. “Everyone will forgive you, I’m sure of it. They’ve… missed you, more than anything else.”

Egil’s derisive snicker only proved Shulk’s suspicion that it was an optimistic line of thought.

“I cannot expect them to, Vanea, nor do I fear their response. There is nothing left to do but face the judgement of my people, however it may come.”

Vanea shook her head. “Nobody wants anything more than peace, Egil. If that is what you grant us, everyone will accept you.”

“Can you be certain of that, Vanea?” Egil asked. “You needn’t convince me anyhow. I am no coward. I will accept peace with any sacrifice that is required of me. If I am to be tried for my crimes, it is only just.”

Vanea’s expression wavered, and Shulk cleared his throat. The siblings looked back to him, still braced on the hilt of the monado.

“I’ll help,” he offered.

“You’ll help.” Egil repeated.

“We’ve been doing things for people all over the Bionis and Mechonis,” Shulk explained. “They trust us. If I help you explain, I’m sure they’ll believe you.”

He had brought Egil’s machinations to a stop, and wielded the monado while fighting in the war. Advocating for peace was as much Shulk’s responsibility as it was Egil’s- and Shulk was more than glad to help.

It felt nearly like a dream, that the war was finally over. Shulk would do everything he could to make true, lasting peace with Egil.

The corner of Egil’s mouth quirked upwards. “You intend to lend me credibility?”

Shulk’s fingers tightened around the monado as he leaned forwards.

“I’ll do whatever we need to ensure peace.”

Egil’s expression softened. “I am sure of that.”

It was an odd shift to sincerity, but Shulk could only feel warmth at Egil’s trusting gaze. Had his eyes always been red? Shulk didn’t think he’d made note of them before. They were a pleasant, dark hue, rich like the tones of sunset.

“So are we goin’ to the ship or not?” He heard Reyn interrupt.

“We are. Back to Junks, everyone!” Shulk tore his gaze away from Egil, waving his arm in the general direction of their ship.

Shulk matched Egil’s pace as they walked back- slightly difficult at first with his weakened legs and Egil’s long stride, but Egil slowed when he realized Shulk meant to walk with him.

“I slept in the lab too, sometimes.” Shulk admitted.

“Lab?”

“I’m a scientist! I lead the team researching the monado in Colony 9.” Shulk couldn’t help but puff up with pride at being able to tell someone. Most assumed him a soldier or warrior, nowadays. He would defend the people of Bionis and Mechonis until his last breath, but his true passion had always lain with scientific discovery.

Egil couldn’t hide his smile. “I see.”

“Pieces of mechon scrap fell down to Colony 9 often.” Shulk said. “I kept worrying Reyn because I’d always go out and collect them, for materials to make into new weapons.”

“I would like to see your work as well, if you’d allow it,” Egil suggested, and Shulk’s chin snapped up.

“Yes! I can show you my notebook as soon as we’re on Junks. I’ve been keeping notes on everything we’ve seen- the Bionis’ ether levels, the geology of the rock formations on the thigh-”

Egil tilted his head. “I’m afraid my knowledge of the Bionis is rudimentary at best. I haven’t been in centuries.”

It didn’t stop Shulk, however. “That’s perfect! I wanted to compare the rock formations through time. If you have any record of what they looked like, or if you remember at all-“

“I will make my best effort for you,” Egil promised. Shulk’s eyes gleamed. The thought of someone travelling with them who shared his passions, and could speak to him, comparing ideas, was absolutely enthralling. Egil would understand him.

Shulk shook his head. They wouldn’t be travelling much longer. The war was over, after all. The possibilities were more than just the narrowest path to their goal- they were endless. Perhaps he could convince Egil to give him a proper tour of the Central Factory, or explain machina schematics, or even let Shulk show him the sights of the Bionis while they both took a survey of its geography.

“Shulk?”

Egil had turned back to face him, concerned eyes fixed on where Shulk had stopped walking.

“Just thinking.”

The worry in Egil’s face abated. “About…?”

“I’m very glad that you took my hand, Egil.”

Chapter Text

Despite the hostile silence, Egil stood tall in the center of Junks.

He towered at his full height, tall enough that Shulk had to crane his neck to look up at him. Shulk could see why Egil had been thought of as a leader in his time. He was so commanding, with his chin raised and headdress glowing, it was difficult to look away. It was as if he took up the entire room.

Though he was an ardent child of the Mechonis, Shulk couldn’t help but be reminded of the ether lamps in Satorl Marsh. They were tall, unyielding and bright, impossible not to stare at. Shulk could sense the same resolute certainty in Egil, planted into the ground and unmoving.

Stopping just outside of Junks, the group had agreed that Egil deserved the privacy to address his family on his own, and that the team from the Bionis was better off waiting for him. It would surely be simpler for the two of them and Vanea to sort out. This was a family affair between Egil and his father, after all.

Egil agreed just as Shulk had expected, but what he had not expected was Egil insisting on Shulk’s presence as well. It was with a soft smile and the barest edge of his eyebrow raising that Egil suggested he hold Shulk to his word, and have him stand by Egil’s side.

Shulk wasn’t certain how he of all people could help Egil in this regard. He was a Homs, who hadn’t witnessed Egil and his fathers’ history like they had, and despite his recent success didn’t consider himself much of a negotiator. He was talented with weapons, and machines, but not with words, or with people.

Egil was right, though. Shulk had promised to do whatever he could, and honestly, he would stand by any one of his allies in difficult times. He accepted Egil’s request readily.

As they stood in the still ship, however, Shulk couldn’t help but wonder how Miqol would react. He had ordered Shulk to kill Egil, after all, disgusted with his son’s actions. Would he be happy to see Egil again? Could he forgive his son at all?

If he were in Miqol’s place, Shulk absolutely would. Families should be unbreakable, bound by something deeper than blood. It was the duty of a parent to support their child, to make sure that they weren’t alone.

Miqol’s eyes had locked onto Egil as soon as he entered the ship, and hadn’t left him since. They widened with shock before narrowing to an unreadable gaze that Egil met without faltering even slightly.

Shulk’s heartbeat quickened with anticipation.

Miqol folded his arms, finally speaking in his low voice. “I… was under the impression that we had come to stop you.”

Egil’s jaw set. “You mean kill.”

Shulk winced. There was no way to soften the blow- Egil was correct. It seemed that Miqol agreed, as his sigh was great and shuddering.

“If that was what it took, then yes.”

Egil didn’t seem surprised by the information either, face remaining perfectly controlled.

“I believed myself dedicated to peace.” Egil stood locked in place, eye contact unbreaking. “I thought that it was only possible through the destruction of the Bionis. Shulk showed me otherwise.”

“It seems that we both owe Shulk a great deal of thanks.”

“I owe a great many things to a great many people.” Egil said, noncommittal words paired with a certainty in his eyes- and something that looked much like remorse. Miqol nodded in agreement, and the room returned to the tightly wound silence it had only just escaped.

The two men stared at one another, unbroken, as the navigators in the front of the ship attempted their best to hide their bug-eyed stares. Shulk suddenly felt just as much an accessory as they did, and took the silence as an opportunity to step to Egil’s side.

“I plan on helping Egil repay these debts,” he assured Miqol. “We can have peace at last. I’m not going to let that opportunity go to waste.”

When he looked back to Egil to gauge his reaction, Shulk was struck by the thought that the machina looked grateful. It seemed odd, for someone so composed and certain of himself, but on instinct Shulk offered him a reassuring nod.

“I suppose I may begin here, by apologizing to you.” Egil said, eyes returning to Miqol. “I am sorry, father, for what I have put you and the people of Mechonis through.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “And sister, I am sorry to have involved you in my errors.”

Vanea’s response was immediate, with a shake of her head. “I don’t need an apology. I am only glad that you are safe, brother.”

Shulk felt an undeniable pang at her words. Vanea’s love for Egil was powerful and clear, despite all he had done. It was good that Egil had such strong support. He needed a loving family, now more than ever.

Miqol took longer, shifting over on his seat in deliberation before answering. “…very well then. I accept your apology as well.”

Shulk let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief rolling off of him in waves. The support of Egil’s family would help them greatly. Egil’s nod, meanwhile, was curt and professional. It was impressive, how collected he was even now.

“I’ll go let my friends know, then,” Shulk said, but as he turned he felt a hand fall upon his shoulder.

“Shulk.” He heard Egil ask. “If you could accompany me upstairs?”

Shulk blinked, agreeing on instinct. “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

He couldn’t help but wonder why, however. Did Egil wish to speak with him in private? Why?

“I’ll tell everyone else to come in,” Vanea offered, interrupting the questions brimming in Shulk’s head. Egil’s hand lifted from Shulk’s shoulder, and in its absence, Shulk was struck with another deluge of thoughts- it had been warmer than he expected, for metal, with a texture almost leathery- before Egil motioned for Shulk to follow him.

Shulk shook the odd thoughts from his head as he followed Egil up the slope to Junks’ second floor. They hadn’t gone far, however, before they were interrupted.

“Egil?”

Egil paused at Miqol’s voice, stopping like how a rifle ran out of ether cylinders- when the user would click and click the trigger, only for smoke to pour out.

“I… regret giving up on you.” His father rested his face in his hands, clasped over his armrest.

“I believe I am guilty of much the same,” Egil said. Shulk realized, when he turned from Miqol back to Egil, that Egil hadn’t looked back at his father like Shulk had. He simply continued upstairs as the ship was filled with the chatter of Shulk’s friends, and Shulk hurried with him.

“Linada, if I could borrow your medical equipment?” Egil asked, curt and to the point.

The machina in question turned from the medical panel she had been so intensely fixated on, blinking rapidly as her hand froze in place. “Oh- yes.”

She seemed taken aback at seeing Egil, though there was little chance she hadn’t overheard their conversation downstairs.

“Shall- I explain how to use it?” She asked, eyes flicking around the room, as an attempt to keep the conversation.

“That won’t be necessary.” Egil waved a hand towards the medical table, albeit with more grace than Shulk could muster. It seemed clear that he intended for Shulk to lie there, so Shulk obliged, though not without more curiosity.

“What do you plan on doing?” Shulk asked, as he settled back to stare at the lights.

Egil didn’t look up from the panel he was fidgeting with. “I thought I would offer my medical opinion. I am… intimately familiar with Homs biology, after all.”

“Oh.” The face units, of course. “Right.”

“…if you are uncomfortable-“

“No,” Shulk shook his head vehemently. “I trust you, Egil.”

It surprised Shulk how easily he could say it, but Egil simply nodded without comment. The medical equipment hummed and chirped as his nails clicked against the screens, just outside of Shulk’s vision.

It felt surreal being in this close proximity to Egil with no thought of danger, no anticipation or fear, as though he were afloat in a pleasant dream. A part of Shulk still screamed to grab the monado, to defend himself against the metal monster and strike down the man who had ruined his life, but Shulk could silence the voice more easily than ever.

He trusted Egil.

“Do you think it foolish of me?” Shulk asked.

The answer was probably yes as Egil paused, back turned to Shulk.

“I think it kind of you.”

Shulk exhaled, gaze fixed on the ceiling. Dickson would probably say that kindness was a form of foolishness.

It certainly sounded foolish, to trust one’s mortal enemy so deeply. Shulk still hadn’t forgiven Egil for his crimes- for the blood on his hands, and the fear and destruction he had wrought. Yet he felt deeply that despite it all, he could trust Egil. He hadn’t truly meant harm to the peoples of Bionis, and he didn’t hate them either.

He was just the same as Shulk- scared, and angry, and confused, and vengeful. Could Shulk really hate Egil, when he might have done the same in his place?

“It seems that our initial assumptions were correct,” Egil finally sighed, eyes fixed on the tablet in his hands. “Your internal processes all seem typical, save for your ether regulation. It seems that your body was recently overwhelmed with an influx of ether- likely the work of the monado.”

That seemed accurate. Alvis had said that the monado predicted the flow of ether. “Is this the Curse of Zanza?”

“I am not certain.” Egil’s eyes fell to Shulk. “Even now, you retain your sense of self, which is… unusual, for those who bear the curse.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m being injured.” Shulk swung his legs aside, sitting up on the medical table. “Dunban never lost his sense of self either, but he was harmed in the process…”

“It could very well be so.” The medical equipment powered down with droning whirrs, lights dying down at the touch of Egil’s fingertips.

Even though Shulk was hardly a researcher anymore, and was probably in serious danger, he couldn’t help but be fascinated. Despite how badly everyone wanted the sword, how many measures had been constructed to understand it, and all of the legends and prophecies centered around it, it seemed that no one truly understood the monado.

Shulk was jolted as Junks rocked slightly, just as it did every time they made a landing. Air travel was still difficult on the stomachs of the homs, considerably different than the simple movement of automobiles, though Melia had never understood the fuss Reyn made. In Shulk’s case, however, the excitement of flying was enough to quell his nausea, giddy at the thought of the machines powering such a complicated aircraft and how they worked.

Perhaps Egil knew. Shulk made a mental note to ask him, one day.

“You ought to refrain from using the monado for now.” Egil said, turning with an air of finality. Shulk took it as the cue to leave, leaping off the chair to his feet.

“I will, thank you.”

Downstairs, Shulk’s friends were slowly making their way out of the ship and gathering around the Ether Light. It was dark on the fallen arm, and after such an eventful day, everyone was nothing short of exhausted, but that still didn’t stop them from fussing over Shulk.

Shulk could understand their concern- both Dickson and Egil had attempted to kill him, and the betrayal of a man he considered a father hurt too much to think about. Still, Shulk reassured his friends that he was alright, and all they could do now was imprison Dickson and get some sleep.

There wasn’t much resistance to his suggestions. Reyn and Dunban carried Dickson to the ether exhaust system, with Sharla following as their resident medical expert, Melia bade Shulk a good night, and Vanea walked off in the direction of her home, after a few last words with Egil.

Just as Shulk prepared to leave for his room, a small voice sounded at his side.

“If Shulk want to talk about Shulk’s dadapon, Riki here to listen!”

Shulk looked down to see Riki himself, and couldn’t help but smile. He knew that the offer was open for all of his friends, but hearing it from Riki was a relief all the same. He certainly didn’t look like it, but the fuzzy little nopon was quite the comfort.

Shulk crouched down. “I’ll keep that in mind, Riki. Thank you.”

Riki’s eyebrows knit. “Shulk and Riki family.”

“Yes, we are Riki.” Shulk remembered that day on the Fallen Arm well. Hearing that Riki would take him in was one of the happiest days of his life, up with the day they got Fiora back, and perhaps today, too, considering their success with Egil.

Perhaps it had been a bittersweet day.

“Riki help Shulk if Shulk need it.” Riki said with a decisive nod, and Shulk reassured him that yes, he would absolutely seek Riki’s help if he wanted to talk about it.

He didn’t know when he would be ready to, but he trusted Riki all the same. Despite his appearances, he truly was a good listener.

Satisfied, Riki shuffled away, and the other person lingering near Shulk stepped forwards.

“Yes, I’m sure I’m alright,” Shulk sighed as Fiora made her way to his side. “What about you, though?”

“I’m fine.” She laughed. “I won’t keep you long. Meyneth wanted me to pass a message along to you.”

Shulk’s eyebrows raised. He didn’t often hear from Meyneth. “Yeah?”

“She says… thank you.” Fiora placed a hand on her chest, over the emblem where Meyneth dwelled. “She’s very grateful that you were able to help Egil.”

“I am too.” Shulk said. He understood her feelings exactly- that grateful felt like an understatement, considering how impossible their goal had seemed. “We couldn’t have done it without her.”

Speaking of Egil… Shulk craned his neck. Was that him, sitting on the island just off the town?

“Goodnight, Shulk!” Fiora waved.

“Goodnight too, Fiora,” Shulk said, feeling less tired all of a sudden.

He had spoken to Egil many times today, but there was still a novelty to it. Seeing a man Shulk had only ever seen vengeful and angry with casual thoughts and emotions felt wholly unnatural, yet right. Shulk wanted to know more about him- about his work, and his life, and his ambitions. Egil was exciting to talk to.

After making his way through the village, Shulk balanced carefully on the pipe leading off to the secluded island. As he got closer, it became more apparent that it was Egil sitting there, with the low light of the machina village and stars glinting off his metallic plating.

“Did you know?” Shulk asked.

Egil looked up, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“That your father had ordered me to kill you,” Shulk clarified.

“He ordered you to do it?”

“I wield the monado.”

Egil’s sigh was more reserved than sad, despite the circumstances. “I had… assumed it was his decision after failing to convince me otherwise, yes.”

Shulk scuffed his shoe along the grass. He wasn’t sure what to say next.

“Dickson was sort of like a father to me,” he finally decided.

Egil’s frown relaxed as his eyes moved to Shulk. “Shulk… you do not have to discuss this matter with me. I am in no need of comfort.”

Shulk looked up to meet his gaze. “Is that really true?”

“I committed every act with full knowledge of the consequences. It is for that I must atone.”

It was a simple way of looking at things, but perhaps that was what Egil needed.

Shulk sat down beside Egil, on the circular offshoot of the pipe. “You don’t have to do it alone, though.”

Egil’s smile was misshapen. “You hardly share in my crimes.”

“But I know what it feels like, to want nothing more than revenge.” Shulk rested his chin in his hands, leaning forwards. “Trying to make them pay, no matter what… you need friends now more than ever.”

“Focus on the living…” Egil mused, leaning backwards onto his splayed hands. “That is what Vanea told me.”

“It’s all we can do.”

Egil’s smile was back. “As… friends.”

“Well, we are!” Shulk said empathetically. He hoped he hadn’t misstepped. “At least, I would consider us to be!”

“Then we are.” Amused like this was the closest Egil ever seemed to content.

He seemed nothing like the merciless dictator Shulk had met so long ago, now sitting in the low light of Machina Village at night. He was only a man, just as much as Shulk or any of the others were.

“I should apologize to you, Shulk,” Egil said. His eyes were unfocused, distant. “It was my actions which caused you to feel such pain.”

“No, I don’t need it.”

Shulk laid himself backwards onto the platform, staring up at the sky. He had watched these stars for so many nights, laying awake consumed by fear and wondering if he and his friends would live to see the next night.

“Don’t apologize to me until we have peace.” Shulk said. “That’s when I’ll accept it.”

He heard Egil chuckle. “As you wish. I shall await that day eagerly.”

It was strangely comfortable to sit there in silence, so near Egil and yet not afraid at all. Despite his love of machines, Shulk had never had the opportunity to appreciate the craftsmanship in Egil’s metallic clothing and face. His headdress glowed a soft orange, despite the darkness, like the stars come unfathomably close.

How could metal be so soft and expressive? It was beautiful and intriguing all at once, to watch his expressions change.

“Perhaps you should go to sleep,” Egil suggested suddenly. Shulk blinked.

“Huh?”

“You have been staring,” he said kindly, and Shulk felt himself blush despite himself. It wasn’t like that.

“Oh, right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Must be tired…”

“Good night.” Egil looked back over the water.

“You aren’t going to bed yet?”

“No. I must… order my thoughts.”

Shulk nodded. He knew what Egil meant. He’d had sleepless nights like that, himself. “Goodnight, Egil.”

Tonight, however, Shulk was nothing more than exhausted. Between the battles, and convincing Egil to stand down, and the new, tense peace between them, Shulk had spent the entire day consumed only by stress. He was looking forwards to getting some rest at last.

It was just by his room’s entrance, however, that Shulk saw a flash of movement up by the city entrance. Reaching back to make sure the monado was still strapped to his back, he approached with caution.

He recognized the figure as soon as he reached the entrance.

“Alvis?” Shulk stepped forwards, gingerly. It wasn’t odd to see Alvis on his own, but it had been such a bizarre day. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. “What are you doing here?”

Last he had seen Alvis, he was waiting just outside of the Mechonis Core. He had promised they would speak again afterwards, but Shulk hadn’t seen him since. How did he get here?

Alvis’ expression turned serious, and Shulk knew then that he wasn’t going to answer his question.

“The passage of fate has been disrupted.” Alvis explained. “This world lies out of balance.”

Shulk knew exactly what he meant. “I feel it too. Something within me is… not right.”

Alvis nodded with that knowing smile, and Shulk had the none too uncommon feeling that he knew something Shulk didn’t.

“You are on your own now, Shulk.” Alvis said, his back turning to face Shulk.

Despite how vague Alvis’ words were, Shulk felt their weight all the same. “I… understand.”

“I will speak to you again when the time is right.” Alvis walked away, holding his hand in the air.

Shulk wasn’t ever sure what Alvis was talking about, or how he saw so much. He trusted him, though. If Alvis wished to warn him, he would take it to heart.

“Oh, and Shulk?”

Shulk’s head snapped up to see Alvis look back at him.

“Good luck,” he said, as he disappeared in a flash of green light.

Ordinarily Shulk might have been impressed and curious after witnessing such a feat, but this time, he was deep in thought. Despite Egil’s surrender, and the promise of peace it brough with it, Alvis’ words only reinforced a thought that had been impossible to shake from Shulk’s mind.

This wasn’t over yet.

Chapter Text

The voice echoed through Shulk’s dreams.

It was unrecognizable, animalistic, barely human, so warped with fury. The words twisted in harsh, guttural sounds, even as Shulk attempted to feel or peer about the abyss surrounding him to no avail. Each one of Shulk’s senses had been dulled, with the exception of hearing, as though he were wrapped in a deep, stifling fog, blind and mute.

His heart stuttered. Shulk could sense that something large was nearby, a huge monster towering behind him, just outside of his sight.

“Your time has passed.” He heard the voice hiss, reverberating louder than Shulk could comprehend. His eardrums shook in his head even as he clamped his hands over his ears. It was as though the words had been etched into Shulk’s mind, like a pen tearing through paper. Something shot out from the darkness to thrash at him, pulling out of his body with frantic ire.

“Return my rightful property to me!” it screamed, echoing in Shulk’s burning ears even as he shot forwards, gasping for air.

The sleeping quarter the machina had provided for him was empty. It blinked unsteadily into sharp focus as Shulk scanned it for intruders anyways, heart thumping, finding each cast shadow and metallic dent mercifully empty. Shulk forced himself to pull breaths again into his choked lungs, before running his gaze along his exposed skin. The sensation of hands clawing at his skin had been so real he half expected to find red marks dotted along his arms and torso.

Before Shulk had time to ponder the dream beyond his immediate safety, however, the door swung open and he flinched on instinct.

“Shulk!”

It was only Reyn, beaming and reliably cheerful. With his friend near, Shulk felt the unease steadily begin to ebb away, and his hands, raised in defense, lowered.

“Dunban sent me to find you.”

“What… time is it?” Shulk’s eyes still felt heavy.

“’bout… noon.” Reyn scratched his head, and held up his hands when Shulk’s eyes shot open in surprise.

“You seemed tired! We decided to let ya rest. Everyone agreed, even Egil.”

Shulk sighed. He couldn’t deny how the gesture made him feel- something warm and soft resting in his chest, like a blanket had been pulled over him- but his mind remained unconvinced. Half-formed plans and anxious thoughts sped through his head, dizzying, as he swung his feet over the side of the bed to get up.

However, as they hit the floor, a curious thought came to Shulk’s mind.

“So what happened?” he asked. “You must’ve woken me up for a reason.”

Reyn deflated. His mouth moved from side to side, and he rolled his shoulder, stalling in that protective way of his. Before Shulk could say to just tell him, however, Reyn finally did.

“Dickson’s up.” Reyn said, looking pointedly in another direction.

It felt like ice had shot through Shulk’s veins. He’d known he would have to speak again to Dickson at some point, but so soon? He hardly felt prepared. What could he say to the man who had raised him, and yet still tried to kill him? Yesterday felt so unbelievable, like the gunshot had nearly been a dream itself and Shulk would wake up any day to Dickson’s unyielding support.

Shulk had lost a father and gained an enemy. He had watched his own death, and forced himself to listen to Dickson’s excuses even as his stomach turned.

Would Shulk believe Dickson if he tried again to convince Shulk it was all a lie?

“Has… he said anything?” Shulk asked. Reyn shook his head, and Shulk was nearly relieved.

“Nah, he’s not talkin’. But Miqol said we should figure out what t’do with him, and Dunban agreed. We’re meetin’ in Junks.”

Shulk nodded. He wanted to know what everyone else thought. In his experience, Dickson was stubborn enough that it would be impossible to convince him to do anything he didn’t want to. But how could they convince him to tell them the truth?

Dread hung over him, heavy like a hood draped over his head as he made his way to Junks with Reyn. Caught in the swirling mess of emotions, Shulk only felt more confused the more he thought. What would happen even if they got the truth? Was there any explanation that could justify what Dickson did? Was there any that could make Shulk hate him, like he should?

The crowd in Junks- his friends, Vanea, and Egil- greeted him with comforting smiles, save for Dunban, who looked unmistakably grim. Shulk couldn’t blame him. He had been stung by betrayal too many times.

“So,” Dunban began, prompt and business-like. “What should we do?”

“I won’t rest until we have the truth.” Shulk said. He felt his hands curl into fists.

He had made up his mind. His doubts had been childish- no matter what the truth entailed, he needed to know it. He could learn to live with anything.

Dunban’s nod was curt. “I agree.”

“The village isn’t safe.” Vanea interrupted, eyes downcast. “I wish we could offer more, but…”

“You’ve done enough.” Shulk said, feeling his muscles relax. Vanea was right- even if Dickson had lied about attempting to kill Egil, his sentiment against the machina was clear. The machina were struggling enough without having to imprison a madman.

Fiora touched a hand to her chin. “Should we… transport him somewhere?”

“No hom-hom size prison in village.” Riki shook his head, glum.

“Colony 6 has a fortress, but it’s still so new…” Sharla shifted her weight. Melia cleared her throat from where she stood, toying with one of her wings.

“The Tower of Investigation can contain anyone safely. It is where my-“ Melia paused only slightly, as the words caught in her throat. “-where Yumea was interrogated.”

Dunban winced. “I am not enthusiastic about the ways the High Entia conduct their affairs. They seem quite hostile to outsiders.”

“Kallian would listen to us.” Shulk said. “And Melia is empress. I’m certain that if Melia thinks it’s the best option, the Tower will work.”

With his blessing, the group murmured in agreement.

“And what of the monado?” Egil asked.

Dunban frowned. “The monado?”

“You no longer have need of it, and it is clearly taking a toll on Shulk.”

Dunban hefted his hand onto his hip. “I believe we can decide when we no longer have need of the monado.”

If the implied accusation bothered Egil, he didn’t show it, instead answering with an even tone. “I am no enemy of Bionis any longer. My sole concern now is ensuring that my true foe, Zanza, is powerless. Those were the terms of my surrender.”

“I thought you said that Shulk could control him.”

Shulk’s foot tapped of its own accord as Egil and Dunban faded into the background. Giving up the monado… he shivered. The thought was terrifying, considering how many times it had saved their lives. Would he cease to see the future without it? He didn’t know if they could possibly survive without his powers- no, he knew that they couldn’t.

And yet, Egil was correct. Shulk’s muscles still ached after being shocked by the monado yesterday, and his ears thrummed with the vestiges of that booming voice. He hadn’t told anyone about it- he’d never heard of someone hearing disembodied voices before. It had to have some link to the monado, to Zanza…

Shulk rested his chin in his hand. Perhaps it was the Curse of Zanza, driving him to commit terrible acts as Arglas had. Was it madness, seizing his mind and destroying his own thoughts? Or maybe an amplification of what darkness and hatred already existed within him, as it had called for him to strike Egil down. Or was it perhaps another entity altogether, a creature who desired the Machina’s destruction, or any violence it could create? The voice sounded vaguely like his, yet…

“Shulk? Are ya listenin’? Shulk?”

Shulk looked up, jolted out of his reverie. Reyn’s eyes were locked on him, narrowed with concern- and as Shulk looked around, it became clear that everyone in the room was staring openly. Shulk’s heart began to hammer at his chest.

Reyn lifted a hand. “I told ya once, I told ya a thousand times. If somethin’s bothering ya, you’ve got to tell us.”

Something lurched in Shulk’s stomach. He couldn’t tell his friends about the voice. Like a postulate, something known so well it was assumed, the knowledge sank into his mind. It built up in his throat, burning, as he focused squarely on the floor. They couldn’t know.

“I’m fine.”

Sharla’s lips tightened. “Shulk…”

Her eyes were familiar, shining just as they had in the Ether Mines below Colony 6. She had watched Shulk keep his visions to himself, and Otharon nearly die.

It would be difficult to hide his troubles from his friends, but Shulk had no other choice.

Shulk looked up from the ground. “What were you saying, Reyn?”

Reyn sighed. Shulk knew that he wouldn’t want to let the matter go, but he wouldn’t push either.

“I can’t believe I’m sayin’ it, but I agree with Egil. The monado’s gettin’ dangerous, and you’re the only one who could use it properly anyway.”

“I don’t… disagree with Egil,” Dunban said, expression slightly pained, but hidden well by the hand on his chin. “It’s simply difficult, to surrender our only means of effectively battling him.”

“What use is it, when your people cannot wield it?” Egil huffed. “If I wished to overpower you, I could do so as it harmed Shulk. I ask this of you not as your enemy, but as your ally.”

Sharla chewed on her lip. “Is Shulk truly the only one who can use it?”

“You should’ve seen what it did to Reyn,” Fiora said a little too loudly, under the flimsy guise of an aside to Melia. She giggled as Reyn sputtered.

“That’s not-!”

“I do not want Shulk to endure what I did.” Dunban interrupted. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “That pain and hopelessness… if it isn’t necessary, it is a sacrifice in vain.”

“I watched it corrupt Arglas.” Egil said, face stony. “We must seal that wretched thing away before it is too late.”

Sharla sighed, massaging her temple.

“I don’t like the thought of giving up our defense against the mechon… but some medic I’d be if I allowed Shulk to get injured.”

Shulk’s head throbbed. He had wanted peace so badly, to give up the sword and pursue the research he truly loved, but something about this felt so wrong that he thought he was going to be sick.

He pushed the feeling down. Sealing the sword- Zanza- away was a term of Egil’s surrender. It was best for both of their worlds. They had to do it.

“I will return it to Ose Tower.” Shulk said. “It’s remote. The monado was safe there for thousands of years. If we warn everyone not to go near it…”

Egil nodded. “I agree. The monado may lie hidden as we engage in negotiation, until our peoples agree on the best method to contain Zanza.”

“So we leave the monado in Ose Tower, and take Dickson to Alcamoth,” Dunban summarized. “Perhaps we fly Junks to Alcamoth, and then travel down to Valak Mountain?”

“I would prefer if the monado were dealt with first.” Egil’s jaw set.

Dunban’s eyes narrowed. “I believe that Dickson is just as, if not more dangerous than-“

Shulk stepped forwards before the pair could argue again. “What if we split up? Half of us take the monado, and half Dickson.”

“What about the people back home?” Sharla asked. “Colony 6 needs to know about the war.”

Shulk stroked his chin, foot tapping. “You’re right…”

Frontier Village, the colonies, Alcamoth- everyone should know that the war was over. They deserved to know that they were finally safe from the mechon. Juju, Otharon, Kallian, Vangarre, the defense forces and civilians… this was a victory they could all share.

“It’s my responsibility. I can take care of the monado, and the rest of you can deliver the good news,” Shulk suggested, and Fiora shook her head.

“Alone? Shulk-”

“I will accompany him.”

Shulk felt Egil’s looming form at his back after his deep voice had sounded.

“I must see the monado sealed with my own eyes,” Egil said. “I owe it to my people who died at his hands.”

The room was silent. It wasn’t surprising that Egil wished to do this personally, but Shulk knew that his friends would be less than enthused about sending him alone with Egil.

Dunban finally spoke.

“You and Shulk… alone?” He asked, echoing Fiora’s words.

“It’s the best way of doing things,” Shulk said. “I’ll be fine, Dunban. I can see into the future, can’t I?”

“No harm will befall Shulk under my watch, and certainly not by my hand.” Egil vowed. Sharla frowned.

“I’m not so sure…”

“Meyneth trusts him.” Fiora said. “And Shulk trusts him. Can’t that be enough?”

That seemed to quell the argument. Dunban pressed his lips together, and Sharla exhaled, shoulders rising. The tension eased only slightly into begrudging agreement as their team split settlements to deliver news to and determined when Junks could transport each group. After they had all agreed- or as close as they could come to agreeing- the group split up to gather last-minute supplies.

Shulk and Egil brought up the back of the group once more, as Shulk explained the specifics of temperature control needs for Homs. Valak Mountain was freezing, after all. His mind raced in wonderment as Egil explained that machina were resistant to temperature due to their internal heating and cooling systems, and immediately began to quiz his partner on the specifics.

Yet only halfway through the hidden village, they were interrupted by a voice behind them.

“So it’s true.”

Eiz’s expression was lost in sour and hurt when Shulk turned to see him, jaw clenched in quivering anger.

“Why are you here?” he demanded, eyes trained on Egil.

Shulk swallowed. He hadn’t known how the machina would react to Egil’s reappearance. It seemed that most of them were yet unaware, but now, it seemed that the dam had broken.

Miqol had told him about a failed attempt to bring Egil’s crimes to an end- a time when Egil had turned against his own people. Watching such a beloved figure turn to violence could only have been painful. Shulk had seen firsthand how deeply Eiz had struggled with Egil’s crimes, after Eleqa asked him to check on her friend.

Shulk remembered their conversation well. He had helped Eiz before, and could again.

However, when he opened his mouth to explain, Egil held up a hand to stop him.

“I came for peace,” Egil answered simply.

“After the crimes you committed?” Eiz asked. “After you left us in a mechanical graveyard?”

This was the most harrowed Shulk had ever seen Egil. He was still composed, with his head held high in a way Shulk had only seen from the emperor, but something about him was cracking. Perhaps it was the bend of his eyebrow, or the slight quirk of his lips. Shulk had never been good with faces.

This seemed unimaginably hard.

“I buried everything you left behind.” Eiz said. “The scrap, and the bodies that fell here. I tried to forget, to bury all of the bad things that had happened, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t enough.”

Egil’s flinch passed by in only a moment, and his voice was still even when he spoke, undeterred. “Show me.”

Eiz’s mouth flew open at the command, as though he was going to snap in response, but quickly shut again. He nodded, slowly, and made for the village entrance, with Egil and Shulk following behind.

Shulk wasn’t sure what Egil’s plan was- if he doubted Eiz, or simply wished to see the destruction he had caused, or if he even had a plan. It seemed wrong to interfere, though. These were his people. These were his sins.

All Shulk could do was help, just as he’d promised.

Just outside of the village, Egil walked up and down along the rows of holes Eiz had dug, soft dirt masking the characteristic click of his heels. It was more melancholy than Shulk had ever seen him, with his arms folded and his eyes thoughtful.

His voice was soft when he spoke next. “May I?”

He had picked up the shovel lying discarded in the grass, poised to dig in an untouched patch of windswept plain. Eiz nodded, seemingly still at a loss for words, and Egil broke ground.

Shulk reached out a hand, in a silent offer for help that he expected to be rebuffed. He wasn’t surprised when Egil replied with a quick shake of his head. Instead, Shulk sank down and sat in the grass, with his knees jumped to his chest.

Egil struck him as a solitary sort of man, despite the admiration the villagers professed for him. He stood alone even in atonement.

Shulk watched in silence as Egil shoveled the dirt, saving his rapt attention for the movement of his mechanical joints. The machina had always fascinated him. Shulk had admired technology for his entire life, and at the pinnacle of this love- a fantastical, otherworldly sort of idea- was the idea of something like the machina, living, breathing machines.

There was nothing more beautiful. With wires for veins and engines for hearts, they represented the absolute pinnacle of technology, just waiting to be understood, crafted in such pristine manners.

Egil was a particularly impressive machina. He was tall, and his metal plates undented, save for a few scratches. His elaborate headdress swayed, and finely sculpted arms bent with every subsequent swing, and Shulk could only imagine how many complex systems buffered each motion.

As Shulk and Eiz watched in the quiet just outside of the village entrance, a small crowd started to gather, one by one. Curious machina and homs alike trickled outside to see the shadows on the arm just outside, staring unabashedly at the former tyrant digging in the dirt just outside.

Egil? The traitor? The warmonger? The names and titles swept through the crowd like wind in the field of grass. Egil was brilliant, he was mad, he was kind and violent and noble and monstrous.

It was dizzying, but Egil seemed not to be troubled at all, as he dropped a thin rectangular item into the hole. Shulk wondered if he had even heard the murmurings, or felt the stares gnawing at his back as he shoveled the dirt back. Egil worked dutifully, however, with great concentration, refusing to look up even once.

His eyes and hands stayed steady. Egil remained concentrated even as the weight of the crowd became unbearable, only pausing when the work was done. He planted the shovel into the ground, and, head held high, finally spoke.

“I cannot hope to be the same Egil you once knew,” he said, voice booming through the plain, “Nor would I wish to be. Through these thousand years I have been humbled by my grave errors.”

Egil planted one of his boots on the makeshift burial. “On this day, however, I bury my instruments of war: the devices by which I commanded my mechon army. I relinquish the power accumulated through violence and under the spell of anger.”

His voice softened slightly as the wind blew past, bending the grass at their feet.

“I cannot hope to recover all that was lost,” he said, eyes thoughtful, “but today, I vow to use my gifts for our benefit- to help the weak, and create the world Lady Meyneth dreamed of so dearly. It is with this act that I beg your forgiveness, hoping to atone.”

With the same air of finality, Egil laid down the shovel he had been using, and Shulk tensed in the immediate silence. Egil’s eyes found Shulk as he searched the crowd, and at his silent question, Shulk gave Egil a small nod.

He hoped even the small offer of reassurance could help. Shulk thought that the speech was perfect, but he couldn’t speak for the machina. He waited.

The crowd did the same, watching with bated breath as the man standing near Shulk pushed forwards. Eiz seemed almost unsteady, separated from the mass of machina whose gaze had now shifted to him, but he spoke all the same.

“Welcome back, Egil.”

It wasn’t forgiveness, nor was it endorsement- but it was enough for Egil to smile, and the rest of the machina to crowd around. Their voices intermingled with one another, melting into a pleasant storm of questions and comments that had Egil nodding and responding and laughing and listening.

Shulk watched with a breath of relief. Egil had done it.

“He’s very formal.”

Shulk looked up to his left to see Fiora standing beside him, with a quizzical smile.

“He… hasn’t really talked to people in awhile, has he?” she asked.

“No,” Shulk said, and he felt himself smile with the relief of it all. “He hasn’t.”

Chapter Text

Sharla had stunned Dickson again to transport him from the Fallen Arm to Alcamoth. No one was willing to risk Shulk coming to harm again, but the sight of Dickson, unconscious or not, was almost just as painful.

Shulk hardly knew what to make of him now, restrained on the makeshift table on the upper floor of Junks. A part of him hoped that Dickson harbored some soul like Fiora had, or was under someone else’s control like Gadolt had been. Something told him that wasn’t true, and it was foolish to hope for, but the alternative was too terrible to think about.

Had something happened for Dickson to wish Shulk dead? Was it truly because Shulk had attempted to make peace with Egil, rather than slaying him? Or had Dickson raised Shulk in vain, knowing that he was to kill Shulk for some purpose he kept hidden?

Shulk’s head ached. He wished desperately to think of anything else- the schematics of Junks, or the sword at his back, but nothing was distraction enough. He could only think of the bullet that had missed him.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Shulk knew from the weight and rough pads that it was Egil. “We have arrived.”

“Coming,” Shulk said.

Landing Junks was already tricky maneuver in the narrow, steep region of Valak Mountain, but today it was also engulfed in a violent snowstorm. The ship quivered violently in midair, sending Reyn and Riki tumbling from side to side, and Shulk clung to the stairs as it began to dip down. In the end Junks managed a somewhat clumsy descent onto the Great Glacier, south of their destination but safer than attempting to land closer.

Shulk shouted back to his friends as best he could as Junks ascended again, wishes of good luck and farewells alike. Junks sped off quickly, however, and soon enough Shulk and Egil were left two lone figures dwarfed by the dizzying haze of snow.

The hike up Ignia Hill to the tower was steep and unforgiving. The thick snowfall was difficult to parse even as Shulk cupped his eyes with his cold-numbed hands, but it was impossible to wait for a safer time. The monado had to be sealed as quickly as possible.

The nightmares from the night before flashed through Shulk’s mind- the voice, hissing in his ear just out of hearing range, and the ghosts of pain darting across his arms. Words snaked into his ears so vividly that Shulk often found himself looking over his shoulder to see who had spoken, or jumping in place at the sounds.

Egil wished for the monado to be sealed just as much as he did. Shulk could see the hints of nervousness in the way he shifted his weight, the tap of his fingers. Egil was a proud man, showing little more than satisfaction and righteous fury on his face, but Shulk was intent on learning the look of each of Egil’s feelings. It was necessary if they were going to become closer allies, and Shulk found himself curious about Egil.

It was difficult to see Egil clearly now, however, clouded as it was in the snowfall. Egil had to shout above the wind to get Shulk’s attention.

“It would be best for you to remain close to my side!” he said, and Shulk responded with a nod. Egil was tall and sturdy enough that he blocked the worst of the wind, and the lights in his headdress and body cut through the swirling fog. It was easiest to make out the path ahead of them close by him.

The snow came up to the level of Shulk’s shin, thick and freezing to the touch. For Egil, however, the snow barely reached his ankles, and as Shulk fought through it, he found himself jealous of Egil’s relative ease. Shulk made a mental note to tell the machina back in the village who had wanted badly to be a Homs about this particular incident.

It had been so striking, that morning, to watch Egil make amends with his people. The same man who had told Shulk in no uncertain terms that their only option was to fight listened so intently, and spoke with such understanding. It felt more like a victory than any won battle ever could.

Shulk hadn’t known if the crowd would accept Egil- and he wasn’t a philosopher like Dunban, so he couldn’t answer if they should, either. He hoped that they would, just as he hoped that every race would accept his bid for peace.

It was difficult to rely on hope alone, however. Egil had hurt his people, just as he had hurt the people of Bionis. Miqol mentioned a failed attempt to stop Egil, one that had left the Machina more fractured than ever after so many of them died.

And yet… even as Egil committed horrific acts, even though he had fought against his own people, Shulk could sense the admiration many of the Machina still held for him. Their words remained clear in his mind- Egil was kind, it was unthinkable that Egil would do this, he was brave and helped them so much. It was clear that even then, Egil’s reputation as a hero was strong enough to endure.

Shulk understood. They thought of Dunban in much the same way, back home in the colonies. He couldn’t imagine the sense of betrayal the machina must have felt when Egil began his assault against the Bionis.

“Shulk?”

Shulk looked up at Egil’s voice, dampened slightly in the wind. Egil spoke as he continued to take his great strides, though they shortened to allow Shulk to fall in step.

“I inquired about you, but you seemed not to hear me.”

“That happens sometimes.” Shulk said, tilting his head down bashfully. “I get deep in thought.”

Egil’s headdress bobbed as he nodded. “What do you think of now?”

Shulk blinked, rubbing his chapped lips together. He didn’t know how to breach such a subject with Egil.

“I heard many stories about you.” Shulk decided to say as he trudged through the snow.

Egil cast a look back at him. “You have?”

“From your people, Meyneth…” Shulk panted as he lifted his legs through the thick snowfall. “Everyone had something to say. You were important to them.”

Egil didn’t look at Shulk this time. “It is a weighty responsibility, to be so beloved.”

“They say you were kind to everyone. I think they’re right.”

They were nearing Ose Tower now, up the slope. Egil paused.

“They believed in you so readily,” Shulk said, stopping with Egil to catch his breath. “They really loved you.”

“That they did.” Egil said. His shoulders sank slightly. “My people were my only thought, for so many years… I wished only to put them to proper rest. I wanted nothing more than to help them one last time, those whose screams still rang in my ears.”

Shulk pushed up the steep incline. “Egil…”

“I know now what folly I committed- that in protecting those I once loved, and the future of my people, I cut down innocents like you.” Egil sighed. “The Bionis- Zanza- might deem you nothing more than food, but I am a leader. I ought to be kinder.”

Only a breath away from Egil, Shulk slipped on the ice underfoot. He thrashed and cried out as he began to fall backwards, only for a hand to close around his and pull him up.

“Careful.” Egil’s eyes shone with concern as he helped Shulk to steady himself once more. His hand was tight around Shulk’s, radiating with warmth and humming slightly.

“Thank you,” Shulk said, as Egil’s hand fell away from his. In the biting wind of Valak Mountain, he immediately missed the touch.

Egil turned away, fingers flexing. “And what of you, Shulk?”

Shulk’s throat felt dry. “Me?”

“Am I the man you heard stories about?”

It was a strange question to ask. Shulk hadn’t known Egil for long at all, and he hadn’t lived through the Bionis’ attack on the Mechonis. He couldn’t speak to what Egil had endured, or who he was before his tragedy.

“You certainly are clever- brilliant, even.” To construct an entire army, and formulate a plan that would last thousands of years… it must have taken an incredible amount of engineering and tactical expertise. “And… very diligent.”

“How flattering.” Egil said coolly.

“You did a lot wrong, too.” Shulk squinted at Ose Tower, growing larger and larger in the distance. “We both already know that.”

Egil’s voice was more tempered when he spoke next. “I told you before that I was in no need of comfort. The sentiment holds true yet.”

“I wasn’t lying.” Shulk huffed as they passed through the chasm by Ose Tower’s side. The walls shielded them both from the wind and sleet, thankfully, and Shulk could finally catch his breath as they circled around to the tower’s entrance.

When they paused before Ose Tower’s immense doorway, Shulk took the opportunity to look up at Egil, catching his eye.

“If I thought you were a monster I wouldn’t do all this, would I?”

To his surprise, Egil actually smiled. “I suppose that’s true.”

Despite the warmth of Egil’s company, Shulk felt an odd sort of coldness every time he visited Ose Tower. The place was strangely nostalgic, tugging at his memory long forgotten. As a child he had dreamt often of these blue tinted walls, adorned with curling pillars and dim, otherworldly lights. He’d never known what they meant until he stepped here so many years later.

Shulk had no memory of the day his parents had died, nor when he first met Dickson. The vestiges of emotion were all that remained, both in his memories and dreams, a deep sense that something was wrong. It was the same feeling Shulk had after the dream of his doppelganger, the man who taunted him as he fell through the ground.

“I am curious…”

Shulk looked back at Egil, from where he had begun to approach the pedestal. Egil studied him with rapt attention.

“What do people say of you, the wielder of the monado?”

Shulk sighed. It was a natural question, after he asked about Egil and his people, but difficult for him to answer. People spoke about him as though he were someone else entirely. “Too much to say.”

Egil was quiet as Shulk walked to the pedestal where the monado had once lain, reaching for the sword at his back.

“People call me a hero now, but honestly I’m not so sure.” Shulk ghosted his fingers along the handle of the monado. He hadn’t thought about it like this in so long- like an artifact, an alien weapon to be deconstructed and studied. Nowadays his fingers had curled around it instinctively, wielding it without second thought.

“You are the Bionis’ savior, without question.”

Shulk laughed, nervous. “I feel more like a fraud. It’s so strange in Colony 9. People already knew me there, but they knew Shulk the researcher, Shulk who tinkers with weapons.”

The monado fit perfectly on the pedestal when Shulk held it up. It was difficult to let go, as though it held a magnetic pull on Shulk’s very fingers.

Shulk released it, and turned away.

“Sometimes when I look in the mirror, it’s a totally different person.” Shulk said. “I’m not sure I know Shulk the hero.”

“Whoever he may be, I admire him greatly.” Egil’s eyes were soft and kind when Shulk looked back to him. His hand rested on Shulk’s shoulder, a grounding, gentle touch. “Do not discount your efforts. You possess a kindness that is not commonly found.”

“Because I didn’t kill you? I think it’s what anybody would have done.” Shulk rubbed the back of his neck.

“Mercy is rare amongst those who wield that sword.” Egil nodded towards it. “The only possible conclusion is that you are different. It was unable to corrupt you.”

“That’s not true.” Shulk suddenly found it difficult to meet Egil’s eyes. “I- I was being controlled by the monado, at least in part. I heard v-“

“You had the strength to seal it.” A second hand clasped Shulk’s free shoulder, and Shulk blinked up into Egil’s red eyes. They were more intense now, but still warm. “You were victorious, Shulk.”

Shulk remembered Alvis’ words from the night before. This wasn’t over. He trusted Alvis’ prediction, yet… it was easy to believe Egil, and the soft assuredness with which he spoke.

“I… was.” Shulk said, and Egil’s smile was small, but sincere. His hands drifted from Shulk, who immediately missed the warmth. Even with the protection of Ose Tower’s thick walls, the cold of Valak Mountain was inescapable.

Egil paced along the walls as Shulk shook slightly, studying Ose Tower intently. His heels clicked and echoed through the space. “We may rest here, if you need it.”

Shulk couldn’t help but smile. “Do you want to study the tower?”

Egil’s head tilted.

“Not particularly. The loud one simply requested that I keep a watchful eye on you.”

Shulk flushed. “Reyn!”

He had offered advice to Shulk too, though in Shulk’s case Reyn had been accompanied by Dunban- who, thankfully, seemed too mature for juvenile threats. Still, to behave so suspiciously around a new ally-!

Egil seemed amused, however. “He was quite insistent that if I attempted to harm you in any way, he would have my head.”

That seemed consistent. Shulk huffed. “Don’t take him too seriously. He talks a lot but-“

“Oh, Dunban seemed to agree.”

Shulk could scream, he really could. It was nice to be worried about, and cared for, but Egil was trustworthy. He wanted peace the same as they did.

“I know they mean no harm.” Egil said. His fingers traced along the wall, studying the markings. “I am not insulted.”

“I know.” Shulk said, running his hands through his hair. “I know. It’s very difficult for us.”

“I find myself new to this as well.” The easy smile on Egil’s face vanished, despite his reassuring words. “Do not fret. You worry too much.”

Shulk didn’t believe it. “You aren’t worried?”

“We are hardly comparable. You are the hero, and I the despot.”

Shulk didn’t agree at all, but he could sense that arguing would be futile. Egil turned away, and Shulk pressed his lips together to keep from replying.

It was impossible to dispute what Egil had done. He had killed so many, and ruined the lives of even more. He had destroyed Colony 6, and caused the deaths of so much of their family- Dunban and Fioras’ parents, Sharla’s fiancée, Melia’s father. It made sense for him to linger on his crimes, and to take responsibility for his actions- Shulk was nearly certain that his thoughtfulness was the only way he could convince Dunban and Sharla of his sincerity.

And yet… knowing what the Bionis had done to Egil made Shulk feel sorry for him. He wished things didn’t have to be this way.

He sat down, sighing, letting his legs angle off the slope to the platform where the monado sat. It glowed at his back, casting a dim blue light in the small room, warm at Shulk’s back. Almost like a call, the monado’s ether waves sung through the air, but Shulk pretended not to hear. He had given up the sword, just as he had promised.

His legs fell limp as soon as they could rest on the ground. Shulk really did need to rest after all. He rested his face in his hands, hunched over slightly as he allowed himself this brief moment. They were on an urgent schedule, after all, and Shulk couldn’t allow himself to hold them back.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was weaker now, though. It was as if he were naked without the sword at his back, weighing on his shoulders.

Egil had promised that they would research it, to find ways to dampen its power, to ensure that no more tragedies would occur. Together, they could stop Zanza, and no one would ever know the pain they had endured. Their worlds could live in peace.

Shulk wondered if his parents would be proud of him, if he discovered the monado’s secrets. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but ether couldn’t be destroyed or created. It must linger somewhere.

“Are you alright?”

Shulk looked up at the deep voice. Egil was standing over him, with that familiar look of worry. People tended to do that around Shulk.

“I was just thinking.” he said.

“About the monado?”

“Kind of.” Shulk leaned further into his cupped hands, bracing his face against them. “This is where my parents first discovered it. It’s… where they died.”

With the soft clank of metal against the ground, Egil sat at his side. “I am sorry.”

“That’s how I ended up studying it, actually.” Shulk said. “I felt like they had left it to me to figure out. It was my last reminder of them.”

Egil nodded, though his eyes still hadn’t left Shulk. It seemed he was just as attentive as Reyn and Dunban had hoped.

Shulk let his arms drop. The feeling of loss tightened around his chest, everything he was struggling to understand as the sword left his hands. “The monado was what they left for me. In a way, I almost feel like I’m leaving them behind.”

“Yet you retain their spirit,” Egil said, his voice soft. “You plan to continue to research and discover. I am certain they would be proud of you.”

Shulk exhaled. They were the words he longed to hear, yet he still felt so uncertain. Something within him screamed at the very thought, that abandoning the monado meant abandoning all he stood for.

“I lost my mother during Zanza’s attack on the Bionis.” Egil said.

Shulk looked over to him, slumped over so similarly. He closed his eyes, just as he had when he spoke of Arglas.

“Miqol and Vanea never told me.” Shulk said lamely. Egil smiled.

“They hardly speak of it. It would be futile. My father misses her more than he can say.”

“Were you close?” Shulk didn’t mean to pry, but he was curious. He had never known his parents, and neither had so many of his friends.

“Very much so. My father always said we were too much alike. Firebrands, in his words.” Egil rested his chin on his fist. “She was the best engineer Mechonis ever knew.”

“It sounds like she was quite lovely.” Shulk said. “…I’m sorry.”

Egil shook his head. “We suffered many losses at Zanza’s cruelty, just as your people endured mine.”

Shulk nodded. War only caused death and destruction. That was why peace was so important- so that nobody had to suffer what they did again.

It was as they fell into embrace of comfortable silence, however, that Shulk belatedly realized that he was shaking. Ose Tower offered some shelter, but the stone and metal it was made of were just as ice cold as the snow outside. The frigid air cut into Shulk’s skin, and he shivered.

Egil took notice as well. “Are you cold?”

Shulk nodded. A part of him was impressed that Egil knew so much about Homs biology, but most of him was just cold.

“Lean against my arm.” Egil suggested. Shulk shifted closer, leaning his cheek against Egil gingerly, only to be pleasantly surprised by the makeshift cushion.

Despite being metal, Egil’s arm was not scalding- it was simply pleasantly warm, tempered by a series of fans underneath. They rumbled gently against Shulk’s skin, with a whirring noise only audible so close, and Shulk exhaled as he felt his body warm up again, and the feeling return to his limbs.

A part of him wondered how warm he would be if Egil wrapped his arm around Shulk, but the thought made Shulk nervous for some reason. He changed the subject, if only to distract himself.

“What do you plan on doing after this is over?” Shulk asked.

Egil seemed taken aback by the question, judging by how his fans stalled slightly. “I had not paid it any mind.”

“Well, what did you plan on doing after you defeated Zanza?”

“I had not paid that mind, either.” Egil sighed, shoulders rocking. “My sole concern was Zanza.”

“I can understand that.” Shulk said. After Fiora’s death, his mind had been filled with nothing but grief and vengeance. He’d known that revenge couldn’t reverse the tragedy, but it might have make her killer regret it. It might have made the guilt in Shulk’s mind abate.

“Have you created plans, Shulk?” Egil asked, voice kind. Shulk smiled, nervous.

“I always wanted to continue my research more than anything else.”

Egil seemed thoughtful. “I would hardly be opposed to accompanying you, if you desired it.”

Shulk’s head snapped up. “Really?!”

His thoughts raced of their own accord.

“Maybe you could show me how the Mechonis works,” Shulk said, mind filled with lifts and machinery. “I was so curious in the Central Factory. Or- I know! I could show you around the Bionis! We could see all of the places in my notes-“

He realized suddenly that the quiet rumbling beside him was Egil’s laughter. “-what’s so funny?”

“You simply reminded me of someone.” Egil said. Shulk’s eyes widened, plans forgotten.

“…Arglas?” He asked. Egil had spoken of his friend in the core of the Mechonis, a giant who had been cursed by the monado’s power. Shulk was careful- the memories seemed painful to Egil- but he was curious. He hoped that he was not making the same mistakes.

Though, he doubted Egil would allow him to.

“Quite so. He was always one for grandiose plans. He was larger than life, as though a mere idea had been given form…” Egil smiled. “Your curiosity seems as insatiable as his. I am certain you shall beg me to explore the endless sea, in due time.”

“Only after I’ve discovered all there is to know about the titans,” Shulk said, and they both laughed.

Egil finished his chuckle with a wistful sigh. “He spoke often of unity between our two peoples. I thought for so long that it was pleasant, but foolish, that it was too much to hope for outside of dreams…”

“We control our destinies, Egil.” Shulk said. He pulled away from Egil slightly, so that he could face him properly. “If we choose to cooperate, it will be so.”

Egil met his eyes. “He was so very much like you.”

His gaze felt more intense than usual then, as though there was nothing in the room but Shulk and Egil. Shulk felt his cheeks heat up at the unyielding focus, the captivating red glow of Egil’s eyes, and found himself looking down at the ground.

He heard the scrape of metal as stood, and when Shulk looked back at him, he saw Egil towering once more at his impressive full height.

“I will consider the suggestion, Shulk.” he said. Egil reached down for him, hand outstretched.

Shulk took Egil’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He tilted his head, listening. “Has the storm passed?”

“I believe so.” Egil’s head turned towards the door. “We ought to begin towards Alcamoth.”

Shulk nodded. As soothing as Egil’s company was, they had a job to do. The sooner they arrived at Alcamoth and reached an agreement on Egil’s surrender, the sooner he could ask once more for Egil to travel the world with him.

The very thought made something in Shulk’s chest jump. He loved his friends, but he was used to blank stares and badly disguised boredom when he spoke about his research. He didn’t blame them- there was much they enjoyed that he didn’t understand- but having someone who listened, and cared, was exhilarating.

Shulk couldn’t wait.

As he followed Egil to the entrance, however, Shulk was struck with a sensation in his periphery- the tinge of being watched. He turned, looking back over his shoulder, only to see nothing.

Shulk exhaled. Of course there was nothing. He and Egil were alone.

When he turned back, however, a voice sounded in his ears, a low hiss.

You cannot leave me here.

Egil’s voice sounded out from the plain behind. “Shulk?”

Shulk shook the sensation away. “I’m coming!”

Chapter Text

Alcamoth was as much of a marvel as Shulk remembered it.

It was one of his favorite places on the Bionis. The first time they had arrived, he had only just been able to contain his wonder. Shulk had never seen a domed ceiling so tall, and hadn’t even imagined technologies like the matter transportation pads and hovering ferries possible. He remembered asking every scientist he could find for schematics in between rides up and down the escalator, leaning his head over the side in fascination as he watched it move.

Today, however, was a far cry from the good memories Shulk held of Alcamoth. Shulk and Egil had come on official business. Although, Shulk was still strongly reminded of his first time here. This marked the second time he had entered Alcamoth only to be met by a platoon of guards, surrounding him before he could step off the transporter. This time, however, Shulk recognized their leader.

“Shulk,” Kallian’s eyes were warm, and he kept his smile barely contained as he bowed his head in greeting. “Welcome back to Alcamoth. I must thank you for taking care of my sister.”

Kallian had yet to acknowledge Egil, but the Alcamoth guards had surrounded him quickly, weapons pointed towards him in anticipation. Egil, however, seemed entirely undaunted, merely looking down at the circle of High Entia guards.

“It was no trouble, really.” Shulk mimicked the bow as best he could. “She was a great help.”

Kallian tilted his head towards the palace, motioning for Shulk to follow as he began forwards through Alcamoth. “It is a relief to see you safe as well.”

“I could say the same to you, Kallian.” Shulk said. He was relieved to see that Kallian had survived the awakening of the Mechonis. “We couldn’t have done it without your assistance on the Mechonis Sword.”

Egil turned to Kallian at Shulk’s words, intrigued. “You are the man who lead the attack?”

Kallian nodded. “I presume that you are Egil?”

“That I am.”

Kallian paused as they stepped onto the escalator, fingers drumming on the side where his arm rested.

“My sister appears convinced of your good intentions,” he said, “but note that we have bolstered our defenses since your last attack.”

Shulk opened his mouth, ready to assure Kallian that Egil was no threat, but Egil answered first.

“I will not lie to you, emperor. It stands against my code to attack in guise of surrender. I have suffered many ills in my time, but cowardice is not one.”

Kallian chuckled, and Egil’s eyebrow raised. “Oh, I am no emperor. That privilege falls to my sister, Melia.”

Egil turned to Shulk. “Your companion?”

“Yeah.” Shulk said. “She’s amazing.”

Egil tilted his head. “I find myself more curious as to how you amass such allies.”

Shulk rubbed the back of his neck. He was no one in particular- just a scientist from Colony 9.

The guards standing at the palace doors approached swiftly as they stepped off the escalator. Something churned in Shulk’s stomach, uneasy, as they snapped handcuffs around Egil’s wrists.

“It is procedure,” Kallian said gently, head tilted towards Shulk. Shulk nodded, but couldn’t pull his eyes from Egil.

It made sense that Egil would be restrained. He had attacked Alcamoth in the past, and caused the death of their last emperor. He even looked alien here, black armor and orange glow clashing terribly with Alcamoth’s soft bluish hues. Egil hadn’t seemed to notice, but Shulk was more than aware of the stares of nearby citizens.

Shulk understood their concerns, but he also fully trusted that Egil wouldn’t do anything wrong. The guards and restraints seemed excessive to his eyes. It seemed that, despite his surrender and desire for peace, Egil wasn’t fully trusted yet.

Shulk’s worry must have been apparent, because Egil met his eyes, and tilted his head in a slight nod. The air in Shulk’s chest left him in a rush, and only then did Shulk realize he had been holding his breath.

He followed, trailing slightly behind as the group made their way through the palace. Shulk’s presence had been requested as a representative of the Bionis- as the wielder of the monado, and the one who had been able to convince Egil to surrender. Shulk, however, was here for personal reasons as well. Although Egil hadn’t outright requested his presence, he was in a foreign land, and surrendering after so many years of war couldn’t be easy. Egil needed an ally, and Shulk was the only person who really understood.

Shulk was going to ensure that both sides understood each other. They had to attain peace. He promised himself that he would, as his eyes ran over the palace one last time before he stepped onto the transporter.

The other representatives were already standing in the throne room around Melia, who was seated tall and proud on the throne. She was to represent Alcamoth, and Otharon Colony 6, and with Dickson indisposed, Dunban had volunteered to speak for Colony 9. While the Nopon had participated in the battle of Sword Valley, they had not been attacked directly like Alcamoth and the colonies were, and had little experience with the mechon. Chief Dunga had excused them from the peace talks, offering only their people’s unyielding support for cooperation.

Kallian cleared his throat before announcing them as they passed through the threshold, voice echoing.

“We in attendance formally recognize Egil, self-proclaimed leader of Mechonis. You may plead your case before Empress Melia Antiqua, and the leaders of the Bionis.”

Kallian’s face and tone each came even as he lowered his arm and stepped off to the side. Egil’s face was schooled as well, with no expression save for his eyes, trained forwards at the empress. It seemed that everyone in the throne room sought some show of neutrality save for Otharon, who wore his anger plain in a frown that took up much of his face.

Much to Shulk’s surprise, Egil knelt.

“I am Egil,” he said. “Leader of the Machina and Mechonis, and commander of the Mechon army. I come to sue for peace.”

Melia was the very image of an empress in power, seated in the throne with perfect posture and a hand at her staff. Shulk felt a surge of pride at the sight. Despite Melia’s insecurities, she carried out her royal duties with practiced finesse, like a well-oiled machine.

“Egil of the Mechonis,” Melia said. “You intend to lay down your arms?”

Egil bowed his head. “I do. There are no terms to my surrender. My forces have already ceased operation. I seek peace, and reconciliation for my actions. I wish only that our two peoples may live in harmony.”

“How do we know he’s telling the truth?” Otharon interrupted. His fist was clenched tight, but Shulk didn’t think much of it- Otharon’s gestures tended to be excessive. “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow with Colony 6 in rubble again.”

“I know he’s telling the truth.” Shulk leaned forwards, quick to speak on Egil’s behalf. “I was there when he decided to surrender. We’ve traveled together for some time now, and Egil’s been true to his word.”

Otharon blew air from his nose, but quieted nonetheless. Ever since the Ether Mines under Colony 6, he had come to respect Shulk’s judgement. He said often that Shulk’s help in rebuilding the colony had been indispensable.

“I once believed war with the Bionis my only option,” Egil clarified. He stood, drawing upwards to his full height. “Shulk convinced me otherwise. I now wish to dedicate myself to cooperation. Our people may live in harmony at last, if only my surrender is accepted.”

Melia met the eyes of each representative, and found a nod from Dunban. Otharon’s eyes shifted to the side, but after Shulk’s assured nod, he tilted his head slightly in approval.

“Very well,” Melia said, turning her gaze back to Egil. “The Allied Forces of Bionis recognize your surrender. You will remain in our custody as we deliberate upon the matter of your sentence.”

Egil bowed his head. “I understand.”

Melia stood from her throne then, looming over Egil. “Egil of the Mechonis, you stand accused of a great many crimes. You have committed atrocities against the people of the Bionis, sowing death and destruction for years, kidnapping and using our people.”

Egil’s voice was the dullest Shulk had ever heard it. “I cannot deny this.”

Shulk couldn’t see Egil’s eyes from where he stood, slightly behind him, but he could imagine them clearly- faint and pained as when Egil spoke of Arglas. If Shulk had ever suspected Egil was lying, his doubts would be put to rest now. There was nothing but true regret in his voice.

“And yet,” Melia’s knuckles whitened against her staff. She looked to the ground. “You stood down at Shulk’s request, and willingly surrendered yourself to the authorities of the Bionis.”

Egil’s head bobbed. “I knew well the outcome of such a decision. I will accept any punishment you deem fit.”

“Execution, usually, for crimes like yours.” Otharon volunteered. Shulk’s blood froze.

“Wait. I didn’t think we were going to-“

“It has not been determined yet.” Melia said, soft yet firm.

“It’s not right!” Shulk swung his arm out before him. “Egil wants to make peace with us! He made the right choice. We can’t just kill him for it!”

“Shulk,” Melia said, voice placating, and Shulk’s heartbeat rang in his ears. Of course Egil had to answer for his crimes, but no one had mentioned execution before. Shulk had never been party to criminal proceedings in Colony 9, let alone Alcamoth. He hardly knew what to expect.

Execution was wrong, though. It would mean tearing down everything they had built. Egil had to be punished, but this wasn’t how things should be done.

Shulk felt something bore down on him, and when he turned to his side, red eyes met his. Egil inclined his head. He said nothing, but Shulk could sense that Egil wished for him not to worry.

There was no way that Shulk could let this go. He didn’t want to see Egil die. He hadn’t spared Egil’s life for it to be taken like this.

Egil turned back to face Melia. “I will not deny the accusations levied against me.”

Although his grief at his own actions was palpable, Egil nevertheless stood tall and staunch, meeting Melia’s eyes unflinching.

“Very well. We shall proceed to sentencing.”

Melia’s face softened in memory, turning to the side slightly. Her eyes met the light of the window nearby- sad, yet reserved. “It is difficult for me to set aside my feelings in this matter. I remember well how my father was slain, and Alcamoth attacked.”

“Your forces levelled Colony 6!” Otharon shook his fist in the air. “Hundreds died because of you!”

Egil shook his head, ever composed. “I cannot deny this. I seek to shoulder the full responsibility of my actions.”

Which meant death. Shulk’s head spun. Had Egil known? Why had he agreed to come here if he did?

Were his actions all for nothing? Would he watch Egil die, powerless, after he had decided not to kill him over and over again? Perhaps Egil, the conqueror merited death, but what about Egil, leader of the machina, or Egil, Shulk’s friend?

Dunban’s fingers tapped against the hilt of his sword.

“And yet,” he said, “You don’t wish to be executed, Egil. Am I right?”

“Truthfully not,” Egil said, “but such a thing should hardly be surprising.”

Shulk’s head snapped up. Egil wanted a different method of atonement. Perhaps they could convince the representatives not to execute him.

“Would he have attacked us if he wasn’t a coward?” Otharon spat. “Of course he doesn’t want to die.”

“Cowardice is not the only reason to live.” Melia said, and Shulk envied her calmness. “Would you care to elaborate, Egil?”

Egil’s hands clenched and unclenched from where they hung together, cuffed by his side.

“There is a world of people suffering at my hands. Throughout my years, I sought only to protect those unable to protect themselves. I wished my intellect and power used for the good of others. My attacks on the Bionis came not from malice or hatred, but from a love of my people, and anger at their deaths. I still hold that wish to assist those in need. I must be the first to right my wrongs, and bring together our two peoples.”

“I cannot agree more that you owe us atonement,” Dunban said. “But, Egil, it is difficult not to fear that we may be endangered yet by your freedom.”

“I sought never to be duplicitous.” Egil said. “My attacks were launched in plain view.”

Dunban’s hand brushed against his chin. “Your use of Homs soldiers suggests otherwise.”

His eyes flashed with dull fire, and Shulk knew he must be thinking of Fiora.

“It was a mere response to the Monado.” Egil said. “Were there another option, I would have pursued it.”

It was silent for a moment, as Dunban pursed his lips and Egil’s words hung heavy in the air. Otharon crossed his arms.

“There is a matter I feel appropriate to share.” Egil’s head bowed when he spoke again. “Truthfully, I come not to sue for my own freedom. My concern lies with a village of my people, living unknown to you of the Bionis. They are the only machina left living in this world. They hide in the fear that my actions have provoked justified hatred in your people. I do not wish to watch my people languish so. I have taken it upon myself to mend our relations at any cost necessary, so that they may live in peace.”

Shulk exhaled. So that had been Egil’s plan. He was willing to offer himself up if the safety of his people demanded it. He had always been concerned with them, but now Egil was trying to build a better future for the machina who still lived.

It was noble. Otharon seemed to think so too, considering the way he brought his hand to his mouth, eyes narrowed in thought.

“I still possess great talents and knowledge.” Egil said. “I repaired the arm of the Mechonis, and learned the intimate details of Homs biology. I would gladly share my technology to assist in protecting the people of the Bionis against threats, as I have done in the distant past.”

“Threats?” Otharon asked, incredulous. “With you gone-“

“The Bionis is home to many threats besides the Mechon. I myself have witnessed the threat posed by common animals and monsters alike.” And Zanza, Shulk knew Egil meant, but couldn’t bring himself to say. Egil’s eyes cast off to the side. “The people of Mechonis once shared their knowledge with the people of Bionis. I hope to do just this.”

Melia tugged at one of her wings. Her voice came clear, despite the anxiety apparent in the fidgeting motion.

“What says you, heir to the Monado?”

Shulk blinked in surprise. He thought that his outburst earlier had said quite enough. But Melia respected his counsel well, and he would try to make a point in calmer terms if the others would listen.

He took a deep breath.

“The last time I stood in the throne room like this,” Shulk said, “I was audience to the late emperor. He asked me why I had come so far, and I answered honestly. I came for revenge.”

“Of course you did. We all have, boy,” Otharon huffed.

“I know. I’m saying I understand you- all of you. I felt the same way. And part of me still does.” Shulk’s eyes slid closed, and he tucked his chin downwards. “But killing Egil won’t solve anything. He understands what he did, and wants to make things right. I see no reason to deny him that.”

“You think punishment would be meaningless.” Dunban summarized, his hand at rest on his chin. “Some sort of vanity, appealing to ego more than justice.”

“I’m not sure about all that.” Shulk rubbed the back of his neck. Dunban was an intelligent man, much better versed in matters of politics and morality. Shulk was just a scientist. “I just think that this cycle has to end. Egil and I agreed to set our differences aside. If the peoples of Bionis and Mechonis do that too, I think our worlds will benefit greatly. The war can’t end until we all agree to move forwards as one.”

Melia sighed. “I recall your words on the Fallen Arm. A cycle of hatred and fear…”

“I chose not to kill Egil, at Agniratha and in the Mechonis core.” Shulk said. His fingers flexed at the memory, remembering how the monado had twitched in his hands, eagerly whispering for him to draw blood. “Nothing has changed. I don’t think we should kill him now.”

“This isn’t about how sorry he feels!” Otharon clenched his fist. “It doesn’t change what he did!”

“I never could.” Egil said. “Such a thing is impossible. I wish only to find a way to move forwards. If you demand my death of me, so be it, but I believe there is a brighter path for both our worlds.”

“Dunban?” Melia asked.

Dunban’s hand shifted about his chin. “I won’t lie, Egil. I cannot forgive you fully as Shulk has. There aren’t many here who haven’t lost family to your forces. A great deal of them will never forgive you. But you seem reserved to walk this difficult path, and I can offer my respect for you as you do.”

A sliver of hope lit up in Shulk’s chest. If Dunban agreed with him, it was a good sign. People trusted Dunban- Shulk included. It was rare that he was wrong about things.

“Otharon?”

Shulk met his eyes, hoping desperately that he would give this matter thought. Their worlds needed this.

“I don’t like it.” He finally said, arms crossed. “I don’t like it one bit. But if Shulk and Dunban believe him, I’ll let ‘em give him a chance.”

Shulk exhaled in relief. Otharon hated the mechon most of any of them, and for him to give Egil a second chance was a miracle in itself. If Otharon could attempt peace with the machina, practically anybody could.

Melia’s expression was pensive.

“Truthfully,” she said, “I must concur with both. I grieve as well. But I knew too the desire for revenge, borne of this grief, and I understand your actions as Shulk does.”

She sat upon her throne again, clearing her throat to pronounce his sentence. “I am not prepared to forgive you, Egil, but I see no reason to deny rehabilitation.”

Egil accepted the declaration kneeling again, bowing his head low. “Thank you, Empress. I shall not make light of this opportunity.”

Shulk could melt from the feeling washing over him.

Egil would live. He would assist them in the fight against Zanza, and help mend relations between their peoples. Shulk had wanted nothing more than for Egil to have this second chance, to live in peace again. He had endured so much pain in these millennia, and now their worlds would improve, and Egil with them.

“There is yet the matter of Zanza, your highness,” Egil said when he had stood once more.

“We may discuss it tomorrow.” Melia said. “I pray that you will join our celebrations tonight, Egil. I intend to pronounce this peace to my people.”

Shulk knew that the smile on Egil’s face was genuine. “I would be only too happy, your highness.”

Shulk felt near weightless as the guards removed the cuffs from Egil’s hands, and he stood for the first time a free man in Alcamoth. He was quick to volunteer to go with Egil so they could report their success to Miqol.

Even as he had pleaded with Egil in Agniratha and the Mechonis’ Core to reconsider, peace had felt so far away. Shulk believed in it strongly, desperately, but there were times when he wondered if it was even possible. Their two peoples had hurt one another so much.

But it was possible to cooperate, and this was proof, that Egil stood here now telling his father that there was peace between the Bionis and Mechonis at last. It was too real for any dream, the way Vanea clasped her hands together in joy, and Miqol gave a proud nod, and the Junks crew rushed to ready the ship, so that they might tell the hidden Machina village of their successes.

Egil nodded curtly, turning back in the direction of Alcamoth for their own peace celebrations. Before Shulk could follow, however, he was addressed.

“Shulk. A moment.”

Shulk paused at Miqol’s voice, turning his head over his shoulder to meet Egil’s father.

“I must thank you. You have done something that I did not think possible.” Miqol leaned to one side of his chair. “I truly believed Egil lost. Not even Lady Meyneth was capable of convincing him otherwise.”

“I just knew what he felt.” Shulk said. “After knowing what he went through… I couldn’t think of him as evil.”

He didn’t dislike Miqol for giving up on Egil. He could understand how painful it must have been to believe Egil gone, to watch his own son be so cruel and have no way to stop it.

Shulk had never agreed with him, however. He didn’t know if anyone could ever be so evil as not to be reasoned with. He had hoped not, and he turned out to be correct.

Egil had been worth saving.

Miqol dipped his head in respect. “I believe both our worlds have much to learn from you.”

Chapter Text

Alcamoth was a joyous uproar that night. The celebrations after Melia was crowned were nothing compared to this; the intoxicating relief that the war had ended at last.

Shulk’s other friends- Fiora, Reyn, Sharla, Riki- all had stories about the celebrations in the colonies and Nopon village, shouted above the din of Alcamoth’s revelry, but Shulk couldn’t begin to imagine more than this. It seemed that every citizen of Alcamoth had come to crowd in the streets, sharing drinks and hugs and loud proclamations of victory.

It was hectic in an enjoyable way, as Shulk’s back was clapped and his hair ruffled. No matter where he walked he was met with the constant punctuation of cheers, that he, the heir to the monado, had saved the Bionis at last. He met each of these congratulations with feverish disagreement, that he really hadn’t done all that much, but nobody seemed to listen. Fiora squeezed his shoulders and told him to just embrace it. He’d earned it.

Shulk hardly even cared for the praise. He really hadn’t done that much- it was his friends who had aided him in battle, Egil who chose to put his anger aside, the people of the Bionis who had united for the battle on the Mechonis’ arm.

As for Shulk, the relief on his friends’ faces was more than reward enough. He couldn’t remember a time when Dunban hadn’t been anxious, brows furrowed as he planned their next battle, and Melia’s happiness at the safety of her people was palpable, as she watched the celebration with a proud smile.

“Thank you,” Shulk said as soon as he had caught his breath, “for helping with the negotiations.”

Melia folded her hands before her, nodding. “I understand how important this was to you. It is my duty to be arbiter for my people, and your judgement was sound.”

“I won’t say I’m not concerned,” Dunban said, shaking his head. “But Egil seems to believe in this as much as you do. With the two of you both working so hard, anything may well be possible.”

“Meyneth thinks it is.”

When Shulk turned around he was met with Fiora, smiling with a hand braced on the construction on her chest.

“We’ve spoken to Egil once or twice,” she said, and by the glow of her monado, Shulk knew she was speaking about Meyneth. “With everyone working together like this, we can create a new future, hand in hand.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Shulk nodded. “Tell Lady Meyneth I’ll do everything I can.”

“She knows.” Fiora giggled. “Egil won’t stop talking about you… he likes being around you a lot.”

It was hardly an embarrassing sentiment, but for some reason, Shulk felt his cheeks begin to heat. They had certainly spoken to one another enough in the past few days, but he was still glad to hear it.

Reyn’s arm slung itself around Shulk then, and he boomed something about how he had been looking all over for Shulk. Riki fluttered around at his feet, echoing that there was some high entia specialty Shulk needed to try, and he was pulled away again.

As the night waned on, the fireworks began, and the throb at Shulk’s skull began to worsen. His heart was still filled with joy, but the sheer amount of people and noise had his skin crawling with discomfort.

Shulk shuddered as another whoop sounded through the air, loud enough to pierce through his very skull. If he could only have some quiet to order his thoughts…

It was with a few apologies that Shulk stole away to the nearby palace, thankfully finding it deserted. The halls were silent, and the air cooler in the absence of throngs of people. In the tall, domed rooms of the palace, Shulk felt the pressure on his lungs lessen, and he inhaled for what felt like the first time that night.

The peace would not last, however. It was when the tension in his shoulders abated that his eyes flashed bright blue, and his breath caught in his throat. The palace around him melted, and Shulk saw something else entirely.

Shulk was well accustomed to visions by now, but he hadn’t experienced one like this since before they had reached the Mechonis. Since then, he had been seeing the future seamlessly, without specific visions- yet now, he realized that he hadn’t seen anything at all since Dickson’s shot.

Shulk clenched his teeth, struggling to make out even the slightest of details. Even in Colony 9, the first time he had wielded the monado, he had never seen a vision so blurry. The feelings accompanying it were clear- Shulk would feel confusion, and pain, and alarm, but he couldn’t make out why.

Screams filled the air. There was a flash of teeth- monsters nearby? No, they were below Shulk. He could see them from up above, far away and distant.

Shulk gasped for air once the vision had passed, clutching at his head and doubling over. He strained to remember it, combing for any more details. When would this happen? Where? Who was in danger? He hadn’t been able to make out the location or the people below, but he knew that the monsters were large and vicious, dangerous-

“Shulk? Are you hurt?”

Shulk’s head snapped up at the sound of Egil’s voice. He hadn’t seen Egil since speaking to Miqol earlier that day.

Could the vision have been…? No. Shulk dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. He trusted Egil. He wouldn’t attack them again, he wanted peace too badly. They had helped him both in his quest for unity, and in his fight against Zanza.

Egil was too kind, anyhow, to hurt the people he had spent so long trying to cooperate with. Shulk didn’t want to think he could turn to violence again.

“I’m fine,” Shulk said, only then gathering the presence to notice Egil’s hand hovering above his shoulder blade. Egil’s eyes met his, waiting for permission, and Shulk nodded.

Egil braced his hands around Shulk, helping to shoulder some of his weight. “You seem unwell.”

Shulk wasn’t sure why he shouldn’t tell Egil the truth, only that he felt deeply that no one should know- that his vision was too vague, and everyone was celebrating, and he shouldn’t share what he saw anyways. Egil was so worried about Zanza, about the fate of his people, and Shulk hadn’t more than the vague inkling of danger. He didn’t even know for certain if people would be hurt.

“I was looking for you, actually,” he said instead.

Egil’s face was usually unreadable, but his amusement was now apparent. His lips quirked up slightly as he lead Shulk to the side. “You were?”

“Well, I didn’t think you would be here precisely,” Shulk clarified, as Egil eased him to the steps below, just to the side of the entryway. “I wanted some peace and quiet as well.”

Egil tilted his head. “You don’t take well to crowds?”

“Not at all.” Shulk shook his head vehemently. “I love my friends, and I want to celebrate as much as anyone else, but it gets loud. I need a break to clear my head.”

“I understand,” Egil’s head bobbed, and Shulk became curious.

“Is that why you’re here?” Shulk asked. He had been hoping for some spot of commonality, so he was surprised when Egil’s smile turned thin.

“In a sense,” he said. His stance shifted, and his face disappeared from Shulk’s view.

Shulk studied Egil, breath catching in his chest. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t imagine what, or how to speak to Egil about it. As Shulk looked up at Egil, however, he realized Egil’s hands were not empty.

“That’s my notebook,” he said, eyes widening in recognition. He had given it to Egil earlier that day.

Egil looked down at it. “Oh, yes. I have taken the liberty of reading it.”

Shulk’s heart thumped. Much as he had longed for a friend equally invested in the sciences, Egil was far more experienced than he was. He was suddenly struck by the fear that Egil was unimpressed by his work.

“Oh, you didn’t have to.” Shulk scratched the back of his head. “I’m really more of an amateur-“

“Nonsense. The attention to detail is exquisite,” Egil said, and Shulk looked up, eyes blinking. “That you were so dedicated to your journey and still made such note of your surroundings is nothing short of impressive.”

“I think I ended up with more questions than answers,” Shulk said, laughing a little. It seemed that every new discovery, every new sample only made him anxious to find out more.

Egil tapped his fingers along the book’s spine, face tilted downwards to reflect in the polished floor.

“Again I am drawn to a curious mind…” He murmured, soft and thoughtful. Shulk wondered if he was meant to hear the thought.

“I too am intrigued by the natural ether formations on the Bionis.” Egil said more clearly, turning his face to meet Shulk’s once more. “I siphoned much of it to power the Mechonis. It’s a fascinating source of energy.”

“It is!” Shulk gushed. “I’ve done a lot of research on it. Back in the Colony, people came to me to fix things… watches and lamps mostly. I learned how ether crystals and batteries worked. My theory about places like Sartorl Marsh and Valak mountain is that there’s a large amount of ether content in the ground… but I’m not sure how it connects to the visible ether in the air. Maybe it draws ether from the air, or seeps from the ground into the air-”

“Likely a combination,” Egil said, hand at his chin. “because ether particles-“

“-collide and form a reaction!” Shulk’s head snapped up. “Of course! The high ether concentration means that they’re more likely to impact, which causes the glowing effect, just like the ether river!”

Egil couldn’t help but smile. “Precisely.”

Something large and warm came close to Shulk’s side, and when he looked over, he saw Egil, clumsily seated on the steps around the fountain. Shulk could laugh from how his legs bunched up, but instead, he found it endearing. Egil was comfortingly close. Shulk thought of their time on Valak Mountain and glanced away, face flushed.

He hadn’t minded resting against Egil like that.

“You should publish your records.” Egil suggested.

Shulk laughed, nervous. “You mean like a book?”

Shulk hadn’t ever considered something like that. He’d love to publish his work someday, but he was only eighteen. He certainly hadn’t discovered anything, or even created a plausible theory.

“I believe a great many would enjoy learning about the peoples of Bionis and Mechonis.” Egil said. “Our cultures would both benefit from such attentive description.”

“I…” Shulk rubbed the back of his neck, glancing downwards. Egil seemed very impressed with his records. “Thank you.”

“It’s clear, within these pages, how much you care for this world.” Egil bowed his head. His eyes fell distant, dimmed and unfocused for a breath. Before Shulk could ask, he had shaken his head, and spoken again. “Such passion is only admirable. People like you are a rarity, Shulk.”

“I just wanted to help people.” Shulk protested.

“I believe you were, in every one of your actions.” Egil smiled.

The distance hadn’t quite left his eyes, however, and although they were so close, Shulk felt that they were far away. Yet, Egil didn’t feel as far as he did in Mechonis Core, such a short time ago but feeling such a distant memory already.

It seemed that every time they spoke, Shulk came closer to truly knowing Egil. The space between them was shrinking.

There was still much Shulk did not know, however, about the imposing machina by his side. Egil’s face pointed towards the statue on the opposite side of the room, jaw set.

“You have contained his influence.” he said. “You wielded the monado as a symbol of hope, not destruction… and with that, helped more than you can ever know.”

“I don’t think I’m that special.” Shulk ducked his head down, eyes trained on the floor. “Maybe Zanza was more powerful then, back before he dueled the Mechonis. That could be why he was able to overpower Arglas.”

Egil flinched at the name. Shulk’s head snapped up, and he remembered the pain in Egil’s eyes, the faraway look that came over him.

“Sorry,” Shulk said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s alright. I’ve spoken of him before.” Egil sighed, though his shoulders still hunched, uneasy. “It’s only that… the matter of his control by Zanza still troubles me.”

“Because he killed your people?” Shulk asked. His throat felt dry. He could only imagine the pain Egil must have endured, after he had watched Fiora and Gadolt attack, unable to control their own actions. It had been horrifying to watch them struggle, and they hadn’t killed.

The lights running along Egil’s face blinked, as energy coursed through the silence.

“Arglas asked me once, what we were born for.” Egil said, voice hollow. “I had no answer at the time. Lady Meyneth believed us born to create, to forge bonds with one another and grow… but it seemed Zanza had created Arglas merely for his own purposes- to be his, and to destroy. It seemed so bleak, that a friend so dear might exist only for Zanza. A world that permitted Zanza to end lives before they might fulfill their purpose… it was too cruel to bear.”

Egil’s face was as pristine as any machina construction could be as he steeped over like this, deep in thought. It was dim enough in the palace that his exposed cords cast shadows about him, a warm glow at his cool metal cheeks.

Shulk was struck with the feeling that he ought to say something, whether agreement or comfort.

“A world that he controls…” he said, thinking of the giant he had met on Prison Island. “His future.”

Of course that had been Arglas’ body, not Zanza’s. But Vanea hadn’t easily marked the difference, and Meyneth neither.

“I long believed that my role was to exact vengeance.” Egil said. “In Meyneth’s absence, that I ought to act protector of my people, and ensure that Zanza’s tragedy did not repeat… that the people I loved would lie at rest.”

“You wanted to make him pay.” Shulk said. He remembered well thinking something similar. “Make him regret what he’s done.”

“I wanted…” Egil’s eyes burned into the statue on the opposite side of the room. “I wanted for the dead not to be forgotten.”

“Egil…” Shulk’s voice trailed off. He had never thought this precisely of his own grief, yet he knew what Egil meant instinctively. He had wanted so badly then for Fiora’s death to mean something, to make it more than senseless violence. If her death meant the end of the mechon threat, perhaps he could have endured the pain more easily.

“Perhaps I could make up for the years they had lost. I could ensure that death was not the end.” Egil’s fists unfurled, and his eyes traced his palms, his open fingers. “I wondered often… if there was more I could have done. Their memories remained with me, although it seemed that others forgot. Perhaps they heard not the echoes of cries long gone, and saw nothing of the ghosts that walked Agniratha’s streets.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Shulk stood, and shifted towards Egil, closing the gap between them. “I thought about Fiora, often, when I thought… we’d lost her. It seemed wrong, that everything went on like normal… that I woke up the next day, and went to Outlook Park, and she just wasn’t there.”

“And therein is the trouble. In my own tragedy, I created one much the same.” Egil’s shoulders shifted, and he turned off to the side. Shulk’s hand stretched out for him, hovering by the round of his shoulder.

He wished to touch Egil in comforting, grounding reassurance, but the distance between them seemed altogether too much to close. Shulk’s hand faltered, fingers curling back.

Egil’s head tilted upwards. “I wonder now… what I was born for.”

Shulk thought himself much like Egil the first time he had encountered this question. He had never wondered about such things as purpose and destiny. He didn’t wonder much beyond the physical, provable realities of their world, the sciences and fields of study he could touch and alter. When it came to questions like this, Shulk just didn’t know. He would probably ask Dunban, if given the chance to.

He had to answer now, though. Egil needed him to.

“I always thought that I should help people. Maybe for both of us, that is our purpose…” Shulk said. At his own words, and the sight of Egil so lost, he felt emboldened, and strength burned somewhere within him as his fingers brushed against Egil’s shoulder. Egil’s breath hitched as Shulk’s hand clasped around it.

“….although, most of the time I’d rather just be in the lab.” Shulk laughed, suddenly nervous. “Or maybe I’m just food. You said that’s why Zanza created us, after all.”

“Perhaps…” Egil looked to Shulk, meeting Shulk’s eyes with his own, crystalline red.

“Maybe we chose for ourselves.” Shulk said. He kept his gaze at Egil’s, level, staring into the comforting warm tones of his eyes. “I hope I’ve done more than just be food.”

The amusement was clear on Egil’s face as his chin dipped. “I believe you may be right, Shulk.”

Egil’s hand rose up and came to rest on the hand Shulk had wrapped around his shoulder, gentle and far less heavy than Shulk had expected. The pads of his fingers felt smooth and warm, with the metallic gloss the most beautiful machines had.

Shulk relished the contact, the affirmation that he hadn’t made a mistake, and his heart sounded in his chest as Egil’s eyes swept over his face. Shulk knew the look of memorization, of study, but had never seen it directed towards him. Egil’s eyes were bright and attentive, mapping Shulk’s face, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Shulk rather liked it.

Something felt lively in the air between them, like the ether concentration around electric crystals. Shulk certainly felt something hot jolt along his skin as he studied Egil’s features in turn- the clean seams of his face, his broad nose and jaw, the depth of red in his eyes.

Shulk’s mouth felt dry. Maybe he should say something. Yet something about this felt too much for words, as though there wasn’t one that was or could ever be sufficient. Maybe there was some form of communication all its own that came from his fingers rubbing comforting rhythm on Egil’s shoulder, or the way Egil’s face haltingly came closer to his.

Shulk leapt back.

A loud popping noise jerked through the room, and his mind jumped to gunshots- to Dickson- until he heard the cheer follow, rising up into the air. Looking outside with his heart quickening, Shulk saw the fireworks he had expected. He exhaled, relieved.

When he looked back to Egil, Shulk saw that he had pulled back as well, looking somewhat bashful. “It is quite loud outside, is it not?”

“Yeah,” Shulk said, as air began to fill his chest again, “it really is.”

“Truthfully, I am unaccustomed to it.” Egil’s eyes swept from side to side, following the trails of people walking past the doors. “I haven’t spoken to people in years.”

“You talk to me!”

“Speaking with you is different,” Egil huffed. His processors whirred softly.

“Because we’re scientists?” Shulk asked.

He couldn’t think why Egil smiled, turning his face to the side. It hadn’t been a joke.

“In part, yes.”

“Yeah. You probably saw my notes,” Shulk realized aloud, and his cheeks flushed. “Even when we were enemies I often- I admired the craftsmanship on the mechon. I wanted to make machines like that. I used your parts often for weapons and everyday items.”

Egil’s smile was soft, but his eyes sparkled, teasing. “Yes, I remember some passionate words about people who dented your samples.”

“They’re important!” Shulk yelped, indignant, but Egil simply laughed.

“Remind me to share my blueprints. Perhaps you may even make use of the factory, if it is still operational.”

Shulk had only used the synthesizing machines briefly, to create a bomb to clear their path through the Central Factory. The thought of using them for more was exciting to say the least. He could have the materials to do whatever he wished, create whatever he wished!

“I like talking to you, too, Egil.” He said to conclude, still abuzz with happiness.

Egil smiled to himself, but only briefly. It wasn’t long before he turned his head aside, a sigh fluttering at his lips.

“Please don’t remain here on my account,” he said. “If you wish to celebrate, I hope that you will.”

“I could say the same to you,” Shulk said, because Egil was inside and alone as much as he was, but Egil chuckled darkly.

It was an odd reaction to have, and Shulk was reminded of their conversation when he had first stepped into the palace. Egil hadn’t answered why he had excused himself from the festivities. Shulk’s curiosity burned anew.

“Why not?” Shulk asked. Egil’s lips turned downwards.

“Would you truly have me celebrate alongside my victims, Shulk?”

Shulk frowned in turn. It was a simple way of seeing things. “That’s not how it is.”

“No, it is not.” Egil sighed, calm overtaking the quickly fading bitterness in his expression. “In truth I believe myself… misplaced here. When we met earlier, I had only just finished speaking to Kallian about my actions during the battle on the Mechonis’ arm… this is not my celebration to partake in. My hands wrought the misery these people faced for so long.”

“You wanted peace too, Egil.” Shulk said, voice coming hushed. “You worked hard for this too. It’s not easy, to let go of hatred like that. I know all too well.”

Egil’s sigh came from him heavier than even the densest metal. He looked through the doors to the celebration outside, eyes distant.

“Perhaps one day, my soul may be yet light enough to enjoy this peace.” Egil said. “Until then, my work is clear.”

Shulk wished that Egil wasn’t so melancholy, but he understood all the same. He couldn’t excuse any of Egil’s actions, terrible as they were. It was the effort Egil displayed now that made him worthy of redemption, the attentive need to right his wrongs and help the people of the Bionis.

“Honestly, I’m happy here with you.” Shulk said, scratching the back of his head. “It’s still too loud out there, anyways.”

Egil’s eyes remained firmly trained on the celebration outside, yet his head tilted. “Yes… You seemed quite distressed when we met here.”

Shulk inhaled. For all his concern about what troubles Egil had been hiding, he hadn’t answered Egil truthfully either.

He had been upset by the noise, it was true, but what had truly sent him reeling was the vision. Egil had interrupted him before he had properly thought about it. While Shulk was glad for Egil’s comfort- a thought that made his insides warm- it was troubling to see one at all, now that Egil had surrendered. Who could possibly attack them?

Shulk hadn’t seen where it took place, or when, either. He had seen visions days into the future before, like his first glimpse of Prison Island, or seconds before they happened, like the majority of his visions in battle. It could happen any time at all.

To make matters worse, the more Shulk thought of his vision, the less he could remember of it. It seemed for every detail he could place, another would slip away, maddeningly quickly. There had been monsters- but he hardly knew what type. Did they wield weapons? Did they have strong arms or legs or tails, sweeping people, or ether attacks?

Shulk couldn’t say. He couldn’t remember where he had seen them, or any distinguishing feature at all.

What had he seen?

“Is something the matter?”

Shulk had been quiet for too long. Egil was worrying. He couldn’t allow Egil to worry.

“There are times when I hardly feel….” That odd sensation rose up Shulk’s throat again, choking whatever words Shulk had been thinking of. “I feel strange.”

He knew he couldn’t tell the others about the voice he heard, nor of its demands. Yet whatever it was frightened Shulk, and Egil was clever and understanding. A part of Shulk desperately wished to tell Egil about it, but the very thought burned where it laid deep within his chest.

“Strange?” Egil asked. His voice was deep, serious.

“Yes. I feel different.”

“Much has changed in these few days,” Egil said. It was not placating, but thoughtful. “I believe us all changing with it.”

“No, not like that. It’s more like-“ And Shulk’s lungs seized. He fought to breathe, before his throat relaxed, and he could speak again. His mind spun. What had he been thinking of again? “I think… it happens most around you.”

Egil’s eyebrow tweaked in interest.

That was when the voice had spoken, back in Mechonis Core- asking that Shulk killed Egil. It spoke still as he attempted to help Egil these past few days.

“It’s… difficult to speak.” Shulk ground out, wrenching his eyes closed so he could concentrate on his words. “I can’t breathe, I can’t control my thoughts-“

His throat closed again, and he dipped his head low in pain. Much to his surprise, after listening so earnestly, Egil began to chuckle.

“It’s alright, Shulk. This is no cause for embarrassment.”

Shulk blinked. Were Egil’s motors whirring again? They were just barely audible, but audible still.

“I must confess…” Egil’s voice trailed off. “Ah, I shall not. There is no cause for rush. The war is at its end, and you are a young man. There is time for patience yet.”

“What?” Shulk heard himself ask, voice weak, and Egil’s hand drifted near his face. It tousled his bangs, brushing the hair behind his ear.

“It is with great eagerness that I await the time when you find the words you seek, Shulk,” he said softly. His eyes hadn’t left Shulk’s face. “I shall wait precisely by your side until you feel yourself ready.”

Calm seeped into Shulk’s brain as he studied Egil’s face in return, metallic plating reflecting the colorful bursts of fireworks just outside. It cast wonderful swathes of light against his face, against the thin sides of his cheeks and nose.

Shulk had already forgotten his troubles. Whatever he had longed to tell Egil was far from his mind, as though he had never thought it at all. There was some faraway worry, a fear, but it could wait until the next morning. Shulk would permit himself this comfort.

He sat and leaned his head down, nearing Egil’s shoulder, and earned a hum of approval at the motion. So Shulk rested his head there, shifting as Egil lifted his arm so that Shulk could lean into his chest with Egil’s arm around him.

The sky above Alcamoth was a deep blue save for the dots of stars above, disappearing with the bright spasm of each firework. Shulk felt distant in the palace, separated from the throng of cheering Alcamoth citizens. It was undeniably peaceful, however, with the sharp noises dulled and the space to think.

Egil’s body was warm as ever, humming slightly with its usual functions. It was a comforting sound, both because it was soft and because it meant that Egil was alive and well. Although Egil’s chest plate wasn’t soft, Shulk could nearly drift off slumped against it. Just as his eyelids drooped, however, and his breath slowed, Egil spoke.

“I was thinking…” Egil murmured. His voice was low and smooth. “While I was reading, I wanted nothing more than to meet the people you wrote of, and see the territories you have mapped. They live so in your writing that I long to see them myself.”

“Yeah?” Shulk asked sleepily.

“Yes… I believe I would enjoy a trip with you, Shulk. Just the two of us.”

The joy hit Shulk like a blow. It was a response to the question Shulk had asked on Valak mountain. Egil accepted his invitation.

They would spend more time together, just as friends, even when this was all over.

Shulk’s voice sounded faraway to him as he gave his response. “So it’s settled?”

He felt Egil shift against him, not uncomfortably. The hand around Shulk’s shoulder moved slightly, and Egil’s thumb stroked against Shulk in circular motion. Shulk felt the tension within him soften, but something deeper inside stir.

“Perhaps…” Egil mused, “we may yet find purpose in one other’s company.”

It was an odd thing to think about, after so much time, but Shulk found himself thinking of his lunch with Fiora in Outlook Park. It was just before the mechon had first attacked the colony, before he had first wielded the monado, before Fiora had been slaughtered before his very eyes.

Perhaps he was reminded because it was such a similar time, when he had felt comfort and peace so close to another, yet so far away from the rest. There was something special in sharing solitude, after all.

It was strange, however, for the knowledge of what came after. That day was a poor example of serenity if Shulk knew how brutally it had been interrupted. Yet, Shulk felt none of that foreboding from the memory.

Perhaps what was odder, however, was the anticipation Shulk felt now, tainting what calm he felt on the outside. He remembered no anxiety on that peaceful day so many months ago, but right now, there was something he knew unshakably.

Something was coming.

Chapter Text

There was no one quite like Lady Meyneth.

Egil hadn’t truly realized how deeply he had longed to see her all these years. The hole in his heart had panged, certainly, a new sting for each passing day, but over time the ache became dull. It became a facet of his existence as much as the burn of righteous fury, and the pain of loneliness became routine.

Life’s simplest pleasures were a gift in these times. Sitting in the great city of Alcamoth among the blooming flowers and leafy trees was a peace Egil hardly could have ever expected he could boast.

Although she had never replied, Egil had spoken to Lady Meyneth every day, through those centuries of torment. He had recounted his progress aloud, praying that she might somehow hear him even in her slumber. Perhaps his loyal efforts might rouse her, or soothe her worries as she slept.

It was sheer folly. Egil shuddered to think of it now. He had long believed his actions born of love- for his people and for Meyneth, all slaughtered by Zanza. Yet Shulk and Meyneth were correct. His wrath and thirst for vengeance had corrupted him.

Now Egil endured a different guilt, settled in his stomach. He still thought of the people he could not save, all those he watched mauled by telethia and fell to Arglas’ blade. But these days Egil too thought of those he had slaughtered with his mechon army, and the families who mourned, barely disguising their stares as they passed by him in Alcamoth.

Egil sighed. He had spent centuries speaking with Lady Meyneth, and it had never been difficult until now. He could hardly meet her eyes after he had wrought such harm. It was nothing short of wretched to remember the days when they had spoken freely, before Zanza’s attack, blissfully ignorant of the horrifying reality they would soon know. Egil surely only burdened the poor homs girl more with each word.

“It’s alright,” Fiora said, and Egil blinked rapidly, head snapping up.

He hadn’t realized he had voiced his thoughts aloud.

“This new body…” Fiora’s hand lingered by the monado in her chest. “It’s different, in a lot of ways, but I don’t hate it. It’s much better than being dead.”

“A death you would befall by my hand,” Egil said, closing his eyes. All that had occurred to Shulk and his friends came by his own errs.

“I don’t regret any of this.” Fiora shook her head, empathetic. “Even if it wasn’t my choice, I’m glad that Meyneth chose me. I’m glad to have helped. I wanted the war to end as much as anyone.”

Egil recalled something Dunban had mentioned. “Your parents… they fell to a mechon attack.”

Fiora chewed on her bottom lip. She flexed her hands, studying her fingers.

“I’m not really sure how to feel about it. Of course I’m angry with you. But I also know just how much the machina loved you. I can hear what Meyneth thinks, and I can feel how she does.”

“I am sorry, Fiora,” Egil said, gently. He made a mental note to apologize to Dunban, as well. “This was not your burden to bear.”

“I think all of us had a lot to bear.” Fiora said. “You, and Shulk, and my brother and our friends… but it’s over now. We can make this world better. I believe that is Lady Meyneth’s wish.”

Egil rested his head in his hands. He could only imagine how she must feel now, watching one of her most dedicated followers pervert her wishes.

The past week was foggy in Egil’s memory, save for the bursts of emotion that felt liable to tear his very chest apart. He had operated purely on fury after Agniratha was destroyed, pain only magnified by the agony of forcing the Mechonis to move.

Egil had said terrible things to Meyneth then. He had foregone her title completely, proclaiming her a traitor and worse. His own words stung in his mind. He could hardly return to her after had had been so vicious.

“She’s worried about you,” Fiora said. Her eyes were kind, and Egil wondered briefly if she had somehow read his mind- or if his worry showed so clear upon his face.

“She missed you. Everyone did. They just wanted to see you again- the real you.” Fiora continued when he didn’t speak. “They won’t turn a blind eye. They know what you’ve done. But you can still live in peace again.”

Egil sighed. He could never return as the bright young man his people had loved so dearly. He wasn’t certain they could even accept him as he was now, so different, and so heavily burdened by grief and pain. It was difficult enough for him to lay eyes on them, aged by these long years and the stress of his atrocities. He felt so deeply the gaps where people he’d loved had once stood. It brought agony to his heart simply thinking of it- of watching everyone he knew grieve so, and hearing the threads of their community snap.

The voices he heard in their village only reminded Egil of the ones he did not hear, the screams relegated to mere memory.

Egil’s eyes shut. He could not permit himself to linger. He had only to remind himself of hope, lest he be overtaken by the same grief which had rotted within him for so long.

He could help his people, now, assisting in the repair of their world. The village on the Fallen Arm could be fortified and expanded, and perhaps one day, Agniratha might shine once more.

The cries in Egil’s memory softened the further he walked this road to reconciliation. His heart beat full once more, and in Shulk’s company, the voices had nearly quieted entirely. For the first time in millennia, Egil was close to knowing peace. It was in the company of the soft-spoken scientist, with blue eyes that shone so often with passion.

“Shulk certainly believes so,” Egil said. When his eyes had opened once more, Fiora’s smile had softened, and her eyes glowed a faint red.

Egil stood from the bench hurriedly, making to drop to his knee. Meyneth only chuckled softly.

“Sit, Egil.”

Egil did so, gingerly.

“Fiora thought it best if I spoke for myself…” Meyneth’s hand hovered around the monado in Fiora’s chest, emitting a reddish hue of ether. “Love and admiration are not so easily lost.”

Egil felt a laugh rise up in his chest. “I worry less for my own reputation, and more for those I have harmed in my hubris…”

There were so many who he owed apologies and redress, a whole world to repay. Then there was the matter of Zanza as well, defending the innocents of both worlds from his tyranny.

Egil had only just begun. He had spoken with nopon researchers on Valak Mountain, with guards in Eryth Sea by the lighthouse and children who loved bugs in Alcamoth. He hadn’t met everyone, but he did recognize the individuals from Shulk’s notes- and he knew how many more he ought to speak to, in Colony 6 and 9, Frontier Village and the Fallen Arm.

How fortunate it was that Egil had never shied away from work, no matter how daunting the task.

Meyneth’s smile warmed. “There is the kindness I remember. You have done well.”

“It would hardly be possible without Shulk.” Egil said. His thoughts often turned to Shulk’s kindness. It took great strength to offer a hand to a stranger who had caused him only pain and grief. He truly was the hero those of the Bionis proclaimed him to be, no matter what he might think.

“I am glad to see you so close,” Meyneth’s eyes were gentle, nostalgic, as she tilted her head towards Egil. “You are so very alike.”

Egil wasn’t certain he merited the comparison. Shulk had never truly lost his way, even while harboring Zanza’s soul. He was both a bright young man and an unflinchingly good one.

That morning, Shulk had left to speak with the man who had shot him. He spoke so rarely of it, unable to hide the pained look in his eyes. Even as he spoke to Egil he seemed perturbed, shaking slightly, but he had reassured Egil at length that he was alright. Egil didn’t wish to pry, but he found himself thinking of Shulk even now. He couldn’t help but be concerned.

“He is a great comfort and help. As are you, Lady Meyneth.” Egil said. “I am grateful for both of your guidance.”

Meyneth bowed her head. “I am proud of you, Egil.”

Egil exhaled. His worries were dust on this bright day. Meyneth simply exuded calm and comfort. Perhaps it was the warm ether which surrounded her, but any time he spoke with her he found himself reassured.

Shulk was much the same. His was a brilliant mind, and a gentle soul… a man whose company Egil treasured. Their connection had bloomed so quickly, yet it felt so natural. Shulk had more than earned Egil’s trust. He knew so well the same pain, yet approached with such bravery and kindness.

A part of Egil felt he had known Shulk forever, that there was no discovery that could surprise him. Yet, he also felt insatiable curiosity, to speak with Shulk until their breath each ran dry, and they had exhausted every thought in their minds.

Atonement would be difficult. Yet Egil could not dread it, not with Meyneth and Shulk by his side. Satisfied, Egil’s face turned upwards, to the light of the sky.

Then, a scream.

It was sudden. Conflict in Alcamoth was scarce. Egil was near certain he had imagined it, yet his core processors began to pump quicker. The alarm in Fiora’s eyes was dreaded confirmation, before the second scream came.

Egil took to his feet in mere instants, alert as he scanned the area. Ether had risen through the air, thick as fog and glowing a sickly bright green.

“What’s happening?” Fiora asked aloud. Egil’s circuits strained with effort as his eyes flew wildly about. The ether had not affected he or Fiora, but each of the high entia surrounding them had slumped over, crying out in pain.

Hands clutched at heads and hearts, tangles of limbs stretched and bent and snapped. New appendages bubbled from the masses they melted into, powerful and green and altogether animalistic.

“It’s horrible…” Fiora’s voice faded from Egil’s hearing, dimming along with their surroundings. All Egil could see was the beast before him, hearing the stutter of his own systems failing him.

A telethia.

Egil felt every bit as much a boy as he had the first time he had seen them, tiny and powerless and wreaked with panic. His systems stuttered. His hearing snapped offline, and his sight blotched and warped.

How could they be here now? Telethia were nearly extinct. Zanza had been sealed for years. Why would the high entia become telethia?

Egil could only watch as they tore his people to pieces, machina he had spoken to only hours earlier reduced to contorted parts. The city he loved, his home, shattered into rubble, unrecognizable.

The ground shuddered, and he nearly lost his balance as a deafening roar sounded. A sword as bright as the sun swung just in view.

He had run then. He had fought then. But now Egil’s joints stopped as though rusted, and he couldn’t move. He stared, eyes wide, as the monsters stalked about the city.

Not all high entia had transformed. Egil couldn’t even formulate a theory as to why, just saw the boy who had spoken with him about bugs knocked to the ground. Egil could see his death in his mind’s eye, torn and crushed just as his people were, and he cried out.

He still couldn’t move.

“The boy,” he heard himself croak, and Fiora dashed to the child’s side. She pulled him towards the city’s entrance, telling him to run, and relief washed over Egil. There would be survivors yet.

Where was Shulk? He could be dead as well, rent to nothing by the telethia’s teeth. Egil shuddered, hoping with all his might that Shulk was well. He should search for him, attempt to defend him, but his legs remained frozen in place.

“Egil?” He heard Fiora behind him. “We have to-“

“Meyneth!”

A voice shattered the air in the city, a proclamation sung from up above. It sounded familiar, yet deepened, curled with unfamiliar fury and derision. Egil’s head spun as he looked upwards, searching for the source of the shout, scouring his mind for why it sounded so deeply familiar.

He realized, as his eyes fell upon Shulk. It was Shulk’s voice, poisoned, deeper and prideful.

“The longer you prolong your death, the more suffering I inflict. Don’t make me wait.”

Your efforts are useless. Step aside.

It was the same rot that had infected Arglas’ voice.

“I might allow you to live. Whichever of you happen to survive this.” Arglas- Zanza, said, smile stretched too wide, too impressed with his own generosity. “Then again, you aren’t too much trouble to kill.”

Egil’s legs shook, but he didn’t falter. “You shall not kill her,” he said. “I will not allow it!”

Egil’s jaw hinges creaked from the strength of his clench, and the screams bled from one world to another, the Machina and the High Entia slaughtered in one breath. The pain surrounded Egil again, a dreadful miasma clouding the very air as the citizens of Alcamoth fell to Zanza’s machinations.

Meyneth was no longer standing beside him. Egil blinked, turning his head, and found confirmation. Shulk’s body- Zanza’s now- hovered just above, on the balcony of the Imperial Palace, and Egil could just glimpse Meyneth rushing towards him at the threat.

Zanza, his enemy, was just above. Egil had to finish what he started.

The palace passed by in a blur, infested with telethia but empty enough to pass through with relative ease. Whatever chill had come over Egil had passed now, as he rushed to Meyneth’s side.

It was only in the transporter that Egil recalled burying his weapons, and the unfortunate reality that he was to face Zanza unarmed. He hadn’t the slightest idea what he could do. He needed his weapons to channel ether effectively, but perhaps in his desperation he might be capable of damaging Zanza without them.

He had naught but his own anger now.

As soon as he had materialized, a crash sounded from within the throne room. Meyneth cried out as she hit the floor, and Zanza’s outstretched hand fell to his side, laying on the side of the throne he was reclining on.

Egil stood in front of Meyneth, braced to shield her from oncoming attacks.

“Zanza!” He shouted. “Stop this!”

He hadn’t been prepared. He balked when his eyes met Shulk’s, a sickly yellow and bright as the sun above. The sky blue Egil had grown so accustomed to was gone.

Shulk’s features, once captivating- soft and hopeful, but with a strength barely masked- had been twisted into a cruel sneer. Amusement flicked in his eyes as he sat up.

“You don’t have the decency to face me?” He directed his questions to Meyneth, struggling to her feet just behind Egil. “How pitiful. Relying on your creations.”

It wasn’t Shulk. It was Zanza, but he looked so much like Shulk. He puppeted the boy’s handsome features like knives in his hands, sickeningly familiar.

“Your resistance is meaningless,” Zanza’s words came from Arglas’ lips, too hateful for the man Egil had admired so much. Egil’s heart ached as he wondered if their long days of hearty discussion, of hope and dreams and confession were truly over. Arglas was here, so close in the flesh, yet so far in the spirit.

How could he be dead if Egil could speak to his walking corpse?

Shulk’s body laughed, nothing like the quiet snickers Egil sometimes heard from him. Ordinarily, Shulk’s laughter inspired relief, and perhaps pride in eliciting joy from such a serious companion. But now Egil felt nothing but fury.

“There is no shame in love for the beings of this world, Zanza,” Meyneth replied.

“You just insist on lowering yourself, don’t you?” He asked with Shulk’s voice, raising from the throne with Shulk’s legs. The morning light was harsh on his body, casting shadows onto his face. “No true god worships the beings beneath them.”

Meyneth had pulled herself to her feet behind Egil, readying her swords. Egil’s arm reached out to shield her.

“Although…” Zanza tilted Shulk’s head. “No god needs their creations to shelter them either. I wouldn’t consider you much of one.”

He launched blasts of energy towards Meyneth, lightning quick. Egil ducked out of the way, and Meyneth met the attacks with her swords.

Egil’s heart hammered. He was disarmed, but Shulk- Zanza- was too. Shulk had given up the monado.

How had he done so, with Zanza residing in his soul? It must have taken a great deal of willpower. For a fleeting moment, Egil was proud of Shulk, but it vanished nearly instantly. There was no Shulk. If there had ever been one, he was dead.

The very thought filled Egil with fury. He had known Shulk for so little time, only to be sentenced once again to tormented grief. He couldn’t imagine the length of the nights before him- rife with nightmares and sleepless agony, rather than intriguing conversation and a small frame leaned against his own.

“I have waited,” he spat, “centuries to impart upon you the depth of my fury.”

“Egil-“ Meyneth began, but he could hardly hear her. His eyes had locked onto Zanza.

Egil’s memory was long, and it was accurate. Perhaps the others had forgotten, but he remembered the sight of crushed metal and torn wiring, the gasps and screams of lives cut unfairly short. He remembered the men fallen prey to Zanza’s trickery, kindhearted and intelligent and warped into horrific monsters.

“You will know the horrors you inflicted upon my world.” Egil advanced towards him. He hardly cared that he was unarmed. He would tear Zanza limb from limb if he had to. “I will slaughter you as carelessly as you have my people, Zanza!”

“Egil!”

“Die!”

No sooner than Egil had shouted, lungs burning, than Zanza had pushed him backwards with a burst of energy.

“Pathetic.” He said, as Egil gasped for breath, knocked onto the floor. Electricity had burnt his circuits, and he was beginning to overheat. “These are the mortals you speak so highly of, Meyneth?”

“These are the mortals you trivialize!” Meyneth raised her sword, fire in her eyes. “These are the mortals far more than mere food. They are living beings!”

Egil’s vision blurred as Meyneth countered each of Zanza’s attacks in rapid fire, sweeping forwards. He laid his head down, unable to make out the argument the two were having. Static had overloaded his systems, and his internal fans began to whirr, attempting to cool him down.

He had to get back up. He had to face Zanza. He remembered staring up at the scarred Mechonis, seeing the hot gashes of the monado on the home he loved so much, angry marks on the god he worshipped.

It swirled around him then, the years of torment rebuilding the Mechonis’ arm, the silence when he prayed to Lady Meyneth, the people they all pretended not to miss. Egil had endured centuries of pain. This was nothing.

Egil’s circuits sparked as he pushed to his knees, but he paid it no mind. He thought instead about the children Zanza had left without parents, the people without their god, the friends forced to bury one another. He thought about Arglas, a man with a question about everything and a soft, looming form, and Shulk, a man with an outstretched hand and pretty blue eyes.

“Zanza!” He shouted, stumbling slightly as his knees gave. Zanza and Meyneth’s battle had taken them to the other side of the hall, where they clashed feverishly.

Egil had to stop Zanza from harming Meyneth. He was unarmed, but so was Zanza- and freshly awakened, so likely only holding a fraction of his true power.

Ether sparked between his fingertips, which Egil directed squarely at Zanza. The blast found its mark, and Zanza groaned in pain, turning back to face Egil.

“I will tear you limb from limb!” Egil snarled. “I will exterminate you with my own hands, Zanza!”

He laughed. All of Egil’s anger and pain made bare, and all Zanza could do was laugh.

“Pitiful mortals.” He said, raising an outstretched hand. Ether began to gather, and Egil’s circuits crackled again. He couldn’t move.

“Everything in this world is dictated by the passage of fate,” Zanza said. He advanced forwards, amusement turned chilling on Shulk’s face. “That which is to occur has already been written… but such a thing is not for mortals to read. Only a god may know fate.”

The ether in Zanza’s palm had turned bright enough to sear. Egil flinched.

“And only a god may change it!”

Egil hadn’t imagined he would die here and now. It was ironic. He had spent so much of his life preparing for Zanza’s inevitable return, yet the moment it happened, he was unawares and unarmed.

Moments passed, however, and Egil realized that he was not dead. His processors continued to function, and moments and breaths bled into one another before Egil realized he would not die here. Finally, Egil’s eyes flew open at the sound of Zanza’s laughter.

Meyneth laid before him- not Fiora, but Meyneth- gasping in pain. The light in her eyes, the light that had guided them for so long, was fading.

Egil scrambled for her, Zanza forgotten. He took her into his arms, cradling her near.

His frayed mind stuttered. She had been hit by Zanza’s blast- a blast meant for him. This was his fault. His years of struggle had been for naught. Zanza had killed her regardless.

“Our peoples may yet have peace,” Meyneth gasped. “Promise me… you will walk hand-in-hand…”

“Meyneth,” Egil choked, his vocal processors sticking.

Her eyes shone, as beautiful as Egil remembered them, but so weak. “Promise me… both of your hands… will grasp this future. Egil… Fiora…”

She flickered, one last beam of light, before her body dissolved into particles, leaving behind only a sword. Meyneth’s monado.

It was as though Egil was hollow, with not a single processor within him, for how empty he felt. His temperature regulators functioned, yet he was cold, frozen in place, as grief washed over him.

She was gone. Meyneth was gone. She would never speak to him again, nor lead their people, nor dream.

Zanza’s laughter was only just audible through the numbing cloud of Egil’s loss. His hand clenched around Meyneth’s monado, trembling. He wouldn’t get away with this. Lady Meyneth’s death would not go unpunished.

His joints creaked and groaned as he pulled himself to his feet, levelling the monado at Zanza. Fury burned within him as he stared into Zanza’s eyes, cold yellow. He would regret taking Lady Meyneth from them. He would beg for mercy and Egil would not give it.

A hand tugged at his arm. “We have to go!”

Egil’s vision blurred, and his legs buckled again. Fiora tugged him back, towards the entrance. An ordinary homs would not be capable of this, but the strength in her new mechon body was more than enough.

“No!” Egil snarled and pulled, attempting to wrench his arm free. “Zanza-“

“Lady Meyneth told me to run.” Fiora’s eyes met his, wide, pleading. “She wanted us to survive.”

It fell upon Egil like a crashing wave, sobering. “…alright.”

The telethia paid them little mind as they fled from the city, content to mill around, horrifying and grotesque. Egil only turned back once, as they passed through the transporter, a final look at Alcamoth that would be forever etched into his memory.

It was precisely the same as Agniratha, overrun with monsters and reduced to rubble. The light had left it, with the people scattered and dead, a living place transformed to ruins before his eyes.

On the balcony of the palace, far above, Zanza watched him through Shulk’s eyes.

Chapter Text

Egil was too familiar with this feeling.

He visited this same world in his nightmares each night, surveying a crowd of survivors with horrified eyes. The relief of escaping death came dull. What use was surviving when they had lost so much?

Alcamoth and Agniratha both stood in ruins. The High Entia and Machina races had each been reduced each to a handful of survivors. How could they rebuild, when they had each endured so much? Could anyone push onwards, carrying such a heavy burden?

The exhaustion hadn’t set into their bones yet, bodies kept alight through fear alone. It was the only explanation for how the survivors still stood after witnessing such horror, with such atrocity poisoning each thought in their minds. Yet Egil knew that the inevitable was coming. He knew that the High Entia would succumb to the same exhaustion his people had, the crushing weight of grief.

They would build temporary shelters and graveyards, side by side.

Egil was relieved to see that Shulk’s companions among the survivors, gathered in the group atop the floating islands. Dunban was the first to see them, pulling away from the evacuation efforts.

“Fiora!” Dunban shouted, rushing over to his sister. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Dunban.” Fiora shook her head. “But Meyneth…”

“Meyneth?” Reyn interrupted, drawing near as well. “Ain’t she, y’know, a god?”

“It was Zanza.”

Egil’s voice was hoarse to his own ears, near to cracking. “He…”

The words stuck in his throat. It was childish and foolhardy, but something within Egil whispered that if he did not speak them aloud, they would not become real. If he kept that reality sequestered within his mind, it might only poison him and not their world.

“Zanza?” Dunban’s hand grazed his chin. “Egil, do you mean to tell me he was in Alcamoth? I thought we had sealed him away with the monado.”

“He is the monado. That is the source of his power. Yet…” Egil shook his head. Even after all these years, he understood so little of Zanza. How could this have happened? “I know not how he was able to appear now.”

Last time, they had sealed the monado and imprisoned Arglas. Should they have imprisoned Shulk? Egil loathed the thought of tormenting him. He couldn’t imagine it would have made a difference.

None of this made sense. Shulk hadn’t been fully possessed by Zanza. He was clearly yet his own being. Separating him from the monado should have lessened Zanza’s influence.

Fiora clasped her hands over her chest. “She told me… to make sure all of us didn’t forget our future. We can still have peace.”

“We must gather our leaders,” Melia’s voice came the strongest of anyone there, resonant and unwavering. “Chief Dunga and Otharon are organizing the evacuations to Colony 6.”

Fiora blinked, looking around the group. “Where’s Kallian?”

Melia made a choked sound, and tears brimmed in her eyes. Sharla’s hand rested at her back soothingly, and Fiora’s hands jumped to her mouth in shock.

“Oh, Melia…”

Egil ducked his head. It was a terrible thing to think of. Kallian had been promising and brave from the little Egil knew of him, a strong young man who would prove himself a wonderful leader.

This was the work of Zanza.

“Our first, and sole mission must be to defeat Zanza.” Egil’s fists clenched. He shouldn’t have permitted himself to be distracted. Zanza’s death was the utmost concern- it was only after that when they could talk of peace.

The nopon- Riki- lifted himself into the air, wings flapping wildly. “What about hom-hom Shulk?”

“Yeah, where’s Shulk?” Reyn rolled his shoulder in thought.

How couldn’t they understand?

“He’s gone.” Egil’s jaw clenched.

“That not true!” The flapping persisted, violently. “Riki see Shulk on top of bird people palace!”

“That was not Shulk. Shulk is dead!” Frustration rose in Egil’s voice. “Zanza has taken him for his own.”

“What?” The homs woman, Sharla, brought a fist to her chest. “How could that happen?”

“It is just as Zanza took Arglas.” At the mere reminder, Egil’s processing core shook.

How could this happen again? How could he permit this, with centuries of planning, preparation, research?

Egil’s processors heated to searing, as he wrestled with the truth nestled between his circuits. It was too terrible to speak aloud, too terrible to think, yet too necessary to ignore.

Egil heard himself say the words, shaking gone from his voice.

“Our only choice is to kill him.”

“Kill… Shulk?” Reyn repeated, dumbfounded. “You’re out of your mind! Ain’t no way we’re gonna do that!”

“Reyn is right,” Fiora stepped forwards, strength regained. “We have to find some way of saving him.”

They were in denial. Egil recalled the feeling well, a mix of hope, optimism, belief in the strength of the victim, and the dread of losing someone he held dear. He never could have imagined striking Arglas dead with his own hand.

“If there was a way, would I not have pursued it?” Egil asked. “Would I have left Arglas to his fate?”

“I’m not sayin’ that!” Reyn swung his fist away. “I’m just sayin’ there might be some other solution!”

“Shulk’s condition was different to Arglas,” Dunban’s mouth narrowed with thought. “Perhaps there is some method that could save him.”

“There is no time.” Egil stepped forwards, praying that they might understand. “Zanza will consume all life on the Bionis as soon is he is able. It is only then that he will become unstoppable. We must strike before that time.”

“And leave Shulk to die?!” Reyn asked, incredulous. Sharla shook her head.

“We can’t use him as a sacrifice!”

Egil pursed his lips. They would never accept the truth, too mired in love for their comrade and lacking the experience to harden their hearts. Egil could understand their doubts, but if he considered them, it would already be too late. His own resolve cracked every time he thought of Shulk’s smile, small and frail, or the light in his eyes as he listened to scientific theory.

“This is a kindness,” he said, slow and deliberate. “The alternative is to permit Zanza to have Shulk as his plaything. Surely you cannot believe Shulk would have preferred this?”

“You’ve got it all wrong!” Reyn swung his arm through the air. “Shulk never gave up on you! He kept on tryin’ to make it through, even when everyone told him we should let you die!”

“Zanza is ruthless. Your good faith is a weapon in his hands.” Egil snarled, rounding on him. “Hope is a mistake he will gladly punish.”

“We can’t stop fighting.” Fiora said. “but we have to find some way of fixing this. It’s what Lady Meyneth would have wanted.”

“Do not speak to me of Lady Meyneth’s wishes.” Egil’s hand clenched into a fist. “Not after she fell by his hand. This is the only path forwards.”

It was futile to attempt to convince them. Egil could tell from the glint in their eyes that they didn’t believe him- or rather, couldn’t believe him. They hadn’t seen what he had.

Alcamoth was a mere demonstration. They had no idea what Zanza was capable of. He couldn’t stand by and watch as Zanza used Shulk’s body to raze their world.

Melia’s chin came up, as she spoke for the first time. “Then I suppose we might take our two separate paths.”

“We can’t just let him-!” Reyn snarled. Egil, however, nodded.

“I do not wish this fate any more than you.” Egil’s voice had dropped low, a confession. “Shulk… saved me. But I was prepared to end Arglas’ life, the Bionis’ life, even my own to end the tyranny of Zanza. I shall do whatever is necessary, at any cost. It is the only way to save our worlds- to save Shulk in turn.”

He felt no regret as he turned, no loss seeping through his soul. Shulk’s friends would try to preserve his life, he was certain of it, but he did not share in their naiveite. Shulk was dead, and Zanza was using the illusion of Shulk’s life to manipulate them.

Egil’s hand clenched around Meyneth’s monado. He had planned to defeat Zanza alone for so many years. He would do so now.

Fiora called after him, faintly, but to continue discussing now, with so little time, would be worthless. As Egil boarded one of the High Entia transports, he took a deep breath. Now he had the opportunity to plan.

He could likely take control of the Mechonis once more, but such would be a foolhardy plan. It would surely destroy every being on the Bionis- a worthy last resort, but Zanza’s destruction would mean little without the unification of their worlds. Egil no longer wished to annihilate those of the Bionis, particularly after the massacre at Alcamoth. The innocents of the Bionis had suffered too much already. It was Egil’s duty to protect them.

Egil would have to find some way of disconnecting Yaldabaoth from the Mechonis, if it were even possible. He could dig up his weaponry, and attempt to locate Zanza- whether by ether signatures, or perhaps searching Alcamoth.

Egil exhaled, eyes slammed shut from the effort. Emotion coursed through him as ether did his weaponry, electrifying and powerful, glowing and dangerous. He felt much as he did when he had first begun plotting his vengeance against Zanza, too awake and too energized to bear, as though he were burning alive.

Rain had only just begun to dust the fallen arm as he landed, a sprinkling no more than morning dew. It wasn’t dangerous to the Machina, but inadvisable to stay in long, lest they rust in place, or lose their ether supply to the influx of water.

Egil didn’t care. He didn’t have the strength left to. All he could think of was the mission.

He found the shovel quickly, and dragged it to the patch of newly strewn dirt. The metal rubbed uncomfortably at the pads of his hands, slipping slightly in the rain, coming down more violently.

“Egil?”

Egil knew the voice too well to turn. “Vanea.”

“We saw the ether spike at Alcamoth.” Egil didn’t stop his digging as she spoke, but he could imagine her eyes, concerned as they always were. He knew what she thought of him, even if she was too timid to voice it. “What happened?”

“Zanza has returned.” Egil fought for his voice not to crack. “Lady Meyneth has fallen.”

It was here, as lightning cracked above, that the unfairness seared hot across his mind. Here, in this graveyard, Egil would revive his mission against Zanza. But Lady Meyneth would never know such peace, she would never be honored in burial. Neither would…

“Shulk.” Egil heard himself say. “We lost Shulk.”

Footsteps sounded in the grass. “Where are the others?”

“I must do this alone, Vanea.” Egil bowed his head, resting against the shovel. “Zanza must fall by my hand.”

There was no one else he could rely on, no one he would burden with such a responsibility. He loathed his task and relished it, thrill sliding off him like the rain coating his metallic limbs.

He would be the one to kill Shulk, and the one to kill Zanza.

The thought was freeing and terrifying all in one. It was only faced with Shulk, eyes shining gold and face twisted to a sneer, that Egil remembered the true fear he had felt when Agniratha fell.

He had watched Arglas, a friend and a partner, raise the monado with uncharacteristic strength, cutting down machina with ease. It was a nightmare brought to life, haunting Egil’s every waking move.

Even all these centuries later, he remembered every word Arglas- Zanza- had said, every unnatural quirk of his lips and the sharp turn of his eyes. He remembered how his mother had coughed, voice straining and weak, before the lights running along her face had faded.

She was likely buried here. Egil couldn’t remember anything of the massacre’s aftermath. It was a haze of nightmares, voices the others didn’t hear. There had been no Arglas to talk to, no mother to confide in, and the simple act of living a reminder of the pieces hewn from the Machina. There were too many missing. Too many voices silenced.

His shovel clacked against a hard surface, and Egil cleared the space about his old equipment. He brushed the dirt aside attentively, before wielding the weapons once more, fastened to his body.

It was only then that Egil’s hand brushed against another object on his person. He knew what it was before he drew it out, hands shaking.

Shulk would never finish nor publish these notes. They were the observations of a mind long gone. This was the last of Shulk, his words made physical and tangible.

They were still here, although Shulk himself was gone.

Something hot beaded in Egil’s eyes. He thought of the trip Shulk had suggested, too wonderful for him to even permit himself to imagine. They could have learned more of the world together, exploring both titans, recording new discoveries and discussing long into the night.

How had this bliss have been shattered so quickly? How could he have been happy just this morning, agreeing to travel with Shulk only the night before?

Egil clenched his teeth. Peace had been such a relief, enjoying company, comfort, solitude forgotten. He had lived so briefly without the stress of battle.

It had taken him centuries to resign Arglas to death, and even then he had not wielded the blade himself. Yet now he had no faced mechon, no allies, and only a single man to rely upon.

Could Egil do this again?

Egil had been trying so desperately not to think of Shulk. Shulk was small as every Homs was, yet warm, as though he breathed serenity itself. He was steadfast, even when they had clashed, and so dedicated to peace and unity.

He had appeared in Egil’s darkest days, as Zanza’s return neared and he was forced to put Arglas to death. Shulk was a light, a glimpse of hope Egil had thought long since snuffed out.

Around Shulk, it was almost like those days before Agniratha was destroyed. Egil could breathe. The voices quieted.

It was nothing like the frenzy now. The screams, fresher than they had ever been, mixed with those from Alcamoth. Begging- for Egil to remember them, to avenge them, not to permit Zanza his way. Anger, screams for Zanza’s head, mixed with fear, pleas not to die, grief, terror, a symphony of war.

Egil’s breath escaped him in a gasp. It was all too much. There were more, new voices that had joined the fray, too clear.

You cannot allow him to destroy our world.

Please don’t let it all have been in vain. I can’t watch any more people die.

No matter how many breaths Egil took, they could not settle his mind. He still felt starved for air, as though he were drowning in naught at all.

It should be easy. He had already done battle with Shulk so many times, nearly killed him outright. He only had to think of Shulk as he had before- a mere boy, a puppet for Zanza’s will. He was not a man his own, merely a vessel.

Yet there was no way to believe that now. Egil knew Shulk now. He was a bright young man, intelligent and understanding, too kind to raise his sword against his own enemy. He loathed vegetables, and studied ether formations, and repaired watches, and was a poor gift-giver.

Shulk had blue eyes like ether crystals. He had soft hands. He had a curious mind.

Shulk couldn’t be Zanza, but Egil had no choice but to slaughter them both.

Egil’s next stop was the Mechonis’ core, to free Yaldabaoth. He could feel Vanea’s eyes on him as he flew off, wordless, but he could not involve the Machina any longer.

He could sense how their people feared him, how they must assume his mental state fragile and wrathful. Yet, Egil could not bring himself to care. He would gladly be viewed the villain, if only he might do what he knew was right. If he was hated for saving their world, so be it.

Now was the time for action. It was now he could unleash his centuries of rage beyond words. All he had left was to focus upon his enemy, to think only of Zanza.

Zanza would die. Egil was certain of that. He would not rest until Zanza laid dead, until he knew the suffering he had forced upon his victims. He would regret what he had done to the people of Agniratha, of Alcamoth, to Meyneth and to Shulk.

Zanza would know pain. That coward would crumble under the slightest trace of what he had committed, but Egil would never relent. He would force Zanza to feel every last second of pain, the massacres he had committed and the centuries of torment he had sentenced the victims to.

Now, as Egil settled into the cockpit of Yaldabaoth, leaning Meyneth’s monado behind him, he needed only a plan. It was simply a matter of locating Zanza, and striking. Egil was confident in his weaponry. If only he knew where Zanza was… perhaps he might begin the search in Alcamoth? But it had been overrun.

It came to him suddenly, with a short gasp.

Of course. Ose Tower.

Zanza would go for the monado.

(X)

Shulk.

…

Shulk, wake up.

It was like the first breath of air after surfacing from water. Shulk’s chest heaved, and he gasped, shooting forwards.

It was dark around him and he was unsteady, as though suspended in the air. His head ached terribly.

“Alvis?” He asked, clutching at his head. That voice… “Where… am I?”

Alvis chuckled. “Look around you, Shulk.”

It seemed impossible. Shulk was surrounded by a void, deep and dark. Yet before he could protest, he concentrated, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

The images came to him in a haze. He was in Alcamoth’s throne room, yet… backwards. Shulk was at the throne, facing the entrance.

“How did I…” Shulk whispered. He couldn’t remember anything. He had gone to see Dickson- something was calling for him to do so, burning in his chest, and he had walked as though asleep. He had been in his body, yet so faraway, as though in a dream.

He couldn’t move. It was as though he was watching through his own eyes, yet unable to act. Fear washed over him. What was happening?!

“Alvis,” Shulk clutched at his head, chest rising and falling, “What’s happening to me?”

“I believe your people refer to it as ‘the Curse of Zanza’…” Alvis explained. “He resided within you.”

“You mean,” Shulk’s heart raced in his chest, “I’ve become… Zanza?”

“Not precisely.” Alvis’ voice echoed about him. “Perhaps it is more accurate to say… you have ceased to be, if only in part.”

“Ceased to be?” Shulk stared at his hands, hovering in front of him as horror stabbed at his heart. “Alvis, have I…”

It didn’t make sense. Homs returned to the Bionis when they died. Yet Shulk was still conscious. He could see his body.

Alvis paused, then.

“Is this what happened to Arglas?” Shulk whispered. His hands shook. Much as he tried, he couldn’t move the body he saw outside of this void. He couldn’t move his own body.

“The monado is… the source, of Zanza’s will.” Alvis recounted. “Yet, you had ceased to wield it.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Shulk agreed. “It’s the monado that was making things worse. But-“

A voice came back to him, echoing in his memory. Don’t leave me here.

And the vision Shulk had seen, the night before…

“It couldn’t have been.” Shulk concluded. “Something else… dwelt inside of me.”

It was a natural conclusion, after so many inexplicable occurrences. Yet, divorced from the theory he had voiced so comfortably, Shulk felt dread claw at his insides.

“But… how?” Shulk’s body shuddered, out of his control. “I’d done so much… Alvis, was any of this real?!”

How could they both exist as one? It would be impossible. Had Shulk truly been Zanza all along? Then his plans… everything he and Egil had worked for… their efforts in stopping him, in uniting their people…

“Was it?”

Shulk wasn’t sure how to handle his own question directed back at him. “I don’t know.”

He was too lost for frustration. He had to understand in order to act, and he couldn’t allow Zanza to destroy their worlds.

“It felt real.” Shulk closed his eyes. The battles they had fought against the mechon army, the moment when Egil took his hand… he had made those decisions, harnessed his own mind and trust to save their world. “But now I’m not so sure. How could it be real, if Zanza was there all along?”

“Perhaps your thinking is flawed.” Alvis’ voice prods gently. “Perhaps the matter is not which is real… but rather, which is you.”

“Me?” Shulk asked on reflex. It was a simple question, yet difficult to answer. He couldn’t remember really feeling Zanza’s presence, save for those few moments when they spoke- or to be accurate, Zanza spoke to him.

But there was more than that. Those odd dreams… whispers Shulk barely heard.

“Was it ever really me?” he heard himself voice the question aloud.

“Perhaps,” Alvis said. “Perhaps not… yet, are you now, Shulk?”

Of course Shulk was himself. He could feel his limbs, see some semblance of his body, breathe and speak with his own mind and words. Yet, when he concentrated, he felt something more real, a body more heavy and vibrant, like the difference between dreams and reality.

He could not move that body. He could not speak with those lips, nor breathe with those lungs. It was his body, unmistakably, not frozen, but alien. There was some other force moving him as though on strings.

Yet Shulk could see from his eyes, hear from his ears, feel from his nerves.

“It’s Zanza,” he concluded. “But… I’m here too. Just like he was with me…”

“Precisely.”

Shulk’s mind was racing. “He hasn’t gotten rid of me yet. We’re… connected.”

Zanza hadn’t destroyed him, or couldn’t, and despite his control over Shulk’s body, Shulk was still alive and conscious. All hope was not lost. Shulk could still return.

He had to find out what Zanza’s plans were.

Shulk focused all his energy on coming to his physical body. He found himself lounged on the throne of Alcamoth, leg hooked over the arm of the throne and fist supporting his head.

“I was correct,” Shulk heard himself say- heard Zanza say. He studied his other arm, flexing his fingers. “This body is more than suitable.”

Shulk exhaled. Zanza’s plans were to continue existing within Shulk’s body. He would have to find some way of wresting back control if he wanted it back.

“Eliminate the stragglers in whatever way you see fit.” Zanza said with a sigh, rising from his throne. Shulk strained at the man he was talking to- a giant, burnt orange and sneering.

It was only when Shulk focused on the giant’s features that he came to his heartbreaking conclusion. It was Dickson.

He had surely been working for Zanza all along. That was why he had set aim for Shulk. It was why Shulk had such a burning need to speak to him once more. He and Zanza had surely done something, though Shulk’s memory fogged at the thought.

“Right, then. I’m off to Colony 6.” As Dickson turned, panic seized at Shulk.

No! Not the colony!

They had all worked so hard at the rebuilding process, Nopon, High Entia, machina alike. It was a peaceful place, only barely recovering from the destruction it had faced. Those people didn’t deserve to suffer.

Shulk felt his features contort. A thought crashed into his head, burning, as though it were too big to fit.

Quiet.

He gasped in agony, realizing suddenly how intensely he had thought of Colony 6. Zanza must have heard.

If he wasn’t aware of Shulk’s presence before, he surely was now.

“Your lordship?” A voice asked somewhere to their left. It belonged to a woman Shulk faintly recognized, an advisor to the High Entia royal family. Shulk’s stomach turned. Traitors had been among them all along, loyal only to Zanza.

Shulk could hear Zanza’s thoughts only faintly, now. There was pride, at a recent victory Shulk couldn’t quite make out- likely the city itself- but apprehension, as well. Zanza needed something.

“Watch over the city.” Shulk heard Zanza say. He strode to the balcony where he hovered, in preparation to take off.

His face turned over his shoulder.

“I have some business I must attend to.”

Chapter Text

Shulk didn’t know why he’d come here.

He wasn’t sure he even wanted to visit, really. It was like his legs had a mind of their own, leading him into the tower and to one of its occupied cells. The occupant in question glared at Shulk, awaiting an answer. Shulk swallowed.

Why had he come here?

“I suppose,” Shulk said, fishing for words to look less foolish, “that I want to know why.”

Dickson snorted. “Stupid kid. That’s just like you. Can’t leave well enough alone, eh?”

“You-“ Shulk was overcome with fury in that moment. “You nearly shot me! How could I leave that alone?”

Dickson was silent. His finger twitched, and Shulk wondered if he was missing his cigarettes. He certainly wouldn’t be allowed to bring them to Dickson in his cell, not like he had when Dickson had mislaid them around the house.

Shulk had never liked cigarettes, anyways. They stunk terribly.

“You were like this as a kid, too.” Dickson said. He didn’t look at Shulk. “Always poking at shit… bugs in the grass, mechon scrap, the Monado. Then you’d get hurt and come crying to me.”

Shulk shut his eyes. The memories were like an open wound. Dickson was like salt.

It burned terribly.

“I didn’t get hurt now. And I’m not crying, either.” Shulk said, level. Dickson snickered.

“Suppose not. Guess that makes you a man, huh?”

The pain came out in a bitter sigh. Shulk didn’t know what to say. It didn’t seem like he would be getting any answers. He wanted to leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to. It was like glue had adhered itself to his feet, like he’d been thrown into a vat of concrete and built into the very foundation of the building. He couldn’t leave.

His memories after that point were fuzzy, but if Shulk concentrated, he could bring back more. It was something like pulling on a line, following it where it curled over itself and twisted.

He tugged.

Shulk held out a rifle. When had he gotten that? Where? He didn’t remember. He held it out like he’d been commanded to, robotic.

“Ah.” Dickson said, leaning his head back against the wall. “So that’s how it is.”

“It is.” Shulk had said, nodding.

“Could’ve grabbed me my cigs, while you were at it.” Dickson grumbled. He took the gun, anyways.

Shulk didn’t want to remember any more.

“He worked for me, you know.”

Shulk shuddered. He had nearly forgotten about the current occupant of his body. Luckily, Zanza seemed to be amused for now, bolstered by his victory in Alcamoth.

It made Shulk furious, but there wasn’t anything he could do.

“Dickson is one of my loyal disciples,” Zanza explained, tracing a finger along the wall of Ose Tower. “He worked for me from the very start. That’s the reason he took you in at all… to await my eventual return.”

Shulk received the information numbly. It was just more betrayal. What could he possibly say?

Though he had discovered that he and Zanza were connected, he was at a loss about what to do with the information. He couldn’t do much more than watch as Zanza approached the pedestal where he’d sealed the Monado.

“It’s the same place I came to reside within you, all those years ago.” Zanza laughed. “Do you feel nostalgic, Shulk?”

He couldn’t do anything. Zanza would recover the Monado. He would be near invincible. Shulk felt cold. Had it really all been for nothing? He remembered sitting here with Egil, the pleasant hum of his machinery and the warmth of their words. It had all felt so real. Had Zanza really been there, too?

Of course. Shulk remembered the strange sensation, the words that echoed in his head-

Zanza clicked his tongue, lowering his voice as though he were talking to an unruly child.

“Of course it was never real.” He said. “You weren’t real. And that tin can avenger of Meyneth’s… it’s even funnier that he fell for it. I think you honestly had him fooled. Isn’t that ironic?”

It was a question never to be answered. Zanza’s fingers met the Monado’s hilt, and the surge of power overcame what little awareness Shulk still had. Everything went dark.

(X)

He was too late.

Egil’s heart sunk as soon as he could make out the sword by the floating figure. He had only barely missed his opportunity. Zanza hovered at the entrance to Ose Tower, with the monado hanging from his hand.

He would surely be powerful, but Egil’s will was yet undeterred. He had prepared for this- nay, had expected to face Zanza at his full strength. If he was unable to match him now, his years of preparation would all be for naught.

Egil had no choice but to challenge him.

“Zanza!” He cried. “Face me!”

Yaldabaoth’s blast flew at Zanza, sure to meet its mark, but Zanza merely raised a hand in response. The ether dissipated at his touch, falling to nothingness.

He was entirely unbothered. Egil had never seen boredom on Shulk’s face before, and it was a vile air on him.

“…why is it that mortals never give up?” Zanza sighed.

In but a blink Zanza was before Egil, with the monado’s blade unsheathed. It glowed a brilliant blue, extending into light solid enough to match Yaldabaoth’s blade, which Egil had raised in self-defense.

“You’ve been lied to for so long you hardly know the respect to show your superiors.” Zanza snarled. Shulk’s eyes were narrow, hateful.

“You know not what power lies before you.” Egil’s voice steeped low as he siphoned the strength to force off Zanza’s attack. He was deflected as Yaldabaoth’s sword swept its full arc. “You face centuries of pain and torment… the strength of my people, stolen by your blade!”

The chuckle was dark in Shulk’s voice. “What strength? That of bacteria?”

It struck Egil like a blow. Zanza didn’t care. He had snuffed out the lives of thousands, and couldn’t even pay it any heed.

Egil lunged forwards with a cry, sword aimed to crush Zanza.

“Every microbe in this world combined could not measure to me,” Zanza continued coolly. He hovered in place, monado raised, even as Yaldabaoth shook with the strain of their blades’ lock. “You’re nothing.”

Egil drew back, aiming a burst of energy at Zanza. It was swiftly blocked with the monado, and Zanza flew just barely out of the path of Yaldabaoth’s blade.

He was far faster than Egil, as he soon discovered, and more mobile, zipping around like a piranhax smelling blood. Egil blocked his attacks in a flurry- the monado was small compared to Yaldabaoth’s towering blade, but more than deadly.

Egil could not permit Zanza to remain on the offensive for long, however. He fired off a volley of ether beams, as well as low-frequency distress signal. Most of his forces had been recovered, but there were likely some stragglers on the Bionis which had been shut down, but were unable to be recalled to the Mechonis with the sword missing. If they received the signal, he might have enough forces to distract Zanza.

For now, however, Egil had no strategy more effective than concentration. He took a shuddering breath, stoking the fury that had burned within him for so long.

He had watched his people slaughtered in cold blood. He had witnessed Alcamoth’s fall. Meyneth had breathed her last in his arms, and Shulk had been stolen away before Egil knew at all.

The cries in Egil’s ears came to rousing froth, a cacophony inside of his head. He rose his sword with the cheers of the crowd at his back, with their pain stinging at every mechanical nerve in his body.

“You have taken too many,” he said as Yaldabaoth stepped back, into a fighting stance. “Destroyed too much. I shall pronounce your sentence now; judge, jury, and executioner!”

He swung at Zanza heavily, a blow that was sure to kill him should he not dodge in time. No matter how many times Zanza zipped out of the way, or met Egil’s sword with his own, Egil did not tire. His blade came down time and time again, elegant and precise for all its size, and Zanza was forced on the defensive.

It was only as Egil panted slightly that Zanza rose upwards into the air, where Egil’s blade could not easily reach. He came down with his sword, clashing against the monado Egil raised so hard ether sparks flew.

“Your struggle is useless,” Zanza said, too cool for the exertion such a fight should have weighed upon him. “Nothing you can do would change anything in this world.”

He bore down on Egil’s blade heavily, and it took all of Egil’s strength to push back, and keep Zanza from slicing through him outright. Egil grunted in effort as his wiring strained.

“I shall rend you from this world, Zanza!”

The threat didn’t trouble him greatly. Zanza simply chuckled. Egil’s vision began to blur from the strain.

Shulk’s eyes were cold as ice with Zanza’s mind behind them.

Egil ransacked his mind for any idea that might save him, any strategy that might not take from his defense, when Zanza suddenly howled in pain. He spun around at the intrusion, and Egil’s monado dropped as he scanned the area to regain his bearings.

It was a mechon unit that had shot Zanza in the back- an ether bolt was not enough to kill or maim him, but was irritating enough to harm. Zanza spun in midair as the scattered troops continued to fire upon him.

Egil’s mind spun as his fingers flexed on his blade’s handle. Shulk had made short work of these mechon both times they had fought. They would not distract Zanza for long.

Egil charged forwards as Zanza was distracted with the lot, swinging at him once more. Zanza met Meyneth’s monado with his own, a fiendish smile on lips that were not his.

“A commendable effort,” he said, “but not enough.”

It only took the raise of a hand to immobilize the stray mechon in ether, and the forming of a fist to crush them all. Egil snarled. Zanza existed only to destroy mechanical life. It surely was not a challenge for him.

They returned to their battle then, swords clashing furiously in time. Egil welled with frustration at every missed strike. He wished only to crush this irritating bug, to force justice upon him for all those he had wronged.

It was as though Zanza could sense Egil’s mounting aggravation, as he pulled backwards quickly, snow flying up in his path. As Egil charged forwards, monado in hand, Zanza simply let loose a volley of ether.

When Egil saw it, it was already too late. The blast was too wide and too powerful to dodge, wrapping about Yaldabaoth in scalding energy, and slamming him backwards. The mechon crashed into something behind, and Egil hissed in pain as his entire body slammed against the back of the machine.

Everything hurt. His plates had surely been scratched. For a terrible moment, all Egil could hear were the grating tones of Zanza’s self-satisfied voice.

“You have no hope of defeating me.”

Zanza’s ether bolts had pinned Yaldabaoth to the white cliffs behind. Much as Egil thrashed, he could not free himself. Frantic ideas coursed through his mind- overheating Yaldabaoth to melt the ice, firing ether beams back at Zanza, another distress message- but Yaldabaoth was entirely unresponsive.

Egil’s heart hammered in his chest. Not like this.

He would not die at Zanza’s hand, not after surviving for so long. He would not permit this monster the satisfaction.

Zanza came forwards slowly, his hand still raised. There was not a hint of wariness in his body. He wasn’t threatened.

“Maybe I should try practicing mercy like our dear departed friend,” he suggested, smile all teeth. “I can offer you an agreement. If you kneel to me now, I will permit you to live.”

Egil didn’t even need time to think.

“Never,” Egil snarled. “So long as I draw breath, you will know no peace.”

“Then you have chosen your own destruction!”

The blow came too quickly, and Egil grunted at the sheer force rattling through Yaldabaoth’s frame. Everything around him shattered, and his vision perceptors flashed white as he crashed to the ground below.

Egil furiously blinked, attempting to bring them back online. His auditory processing strained as well. All he could hear was a single high pitched ringing noise.

Pain came dully, then, and Egil ached from the impact. The moisture from the snow below sank into his joints, and they creaked in protest when he tried to move.

Egil’s head lolled, dazed, but he fought to concentrate. He saw mere flashes of the scene in front of him as he pulled his head up, attempting to refocus his sight. Zanza was still coming forwards, dragging the monado behind him in the snow. Egil didn’t think he could have ever imagined such a look of righteous cruelty on Shulk’s soft features.

Zanza rose the monado slowly, relishing in the theatrics. “Such is the fate of those who challenge gods.”

“A god?” Egil grunted. He scrambled backwards in the rubble surrounding, eyes searching desperately for his weapon. “Nay. You could never arise from your worthless depths. To compare yourself to Lady Meyneth is a waste of breath.”

“Oh?” Zanza stalked forwards, cocking his head. “And where is your god now?”

Egil’s fingers closed around something solid, and power coursed up his arm. He exhaled in relief.

“Not forgotten,” he spat. “Not as you shall be.”

Egil lunged to his feet, Meyneth’s monado in hand. Zanza dodged easily, though his shock at the sight of the blade still registered on his face.

“How fortunate,” he laughed, “Meyneth’s monado, mine for the taking!”

Egil had precious little experience in swordplay. Yaldabaoth’s sword was better designed for crushing, and he preferred ether beams and troops when the choice was at his disposal. Now, however, he felt strong enough to defeat Zanza where he stood. The monado hummed with power.

Perhaps it was mere sentiment, but it felt like Meyneth. The ether powering the sword was warm and gentle, so much alike the god Egil had loved so dearly. The thought only fueled Egil further. Meyneth was still with him.

Zanza darted forwards, and Egil caught his blade with his own. The monados clashed in rapid tempo as the battle hurtled around the snowy field. Zanza soared around Egil, attacking from all angles, lithe and quick as he spun through the air. It was all Egil could do to match each of his attacks, lunging for him with every opportunity.

Nothing Egil could do could match Zanza’s mobility.

“So these are the heroes of mortals.” He sneered when Egil caught him next, the monado slung over his shoulder to intercept the blow to his back. “…a simpering fool and a disposable trinket. It’s no wonder you’ve already lost.”

“Speak not ill of your betters,” Egil spat. He turned and swept his sword at Zanza, only just missing his side.

“It was here, you know,” he continued to speak in his infernal voice, taunting. “At this very tower, fourteen years ago. This was where I first came to reside within him… when Shulk ceased to exist.”

Fourteen years ago? Egil’s head spun. It was incoherent. He knew Shulk- knew Shulk had been his own man.

“Waste not your breath with such lies,” he snarled, stepping cleanly away from Zanza’s latest stab. “You’ll need your wits about you to match me.”

“Lies?” Zanza’s voice was too big for him suddenly, echoing and grandiose. “Don’t tell me you were attached. The thing you met was nothing more than an empty shell.”

Egil wouldn’t waste his energy even thinking about Zanza’s bizarre claims. His next few attacks were silent, untroubled by the preposterous accusations.

Zanza dodged with equal silence, faster and faster in precarious circles. His leer grew into a blur.

“Zanza!” Egil shouted. “Enough cowardice! The time for battle is now!”

He was answered by nothing but a laugh, drifting in the winds.

Egil turned in place, brandishing the monado. “I shall tear you limb from limb!”

“And here I thought mortals craved knowledge and unity,” Zanza’s voice was low, somewhere in Egil’s ear. It was gone by the time Egil’s blade cut through the air, replaced with laugher. “You witnessed your false god’s end. It falls to me to inform you about your other hero’s death.”

“Death?” Egil hated the echo of vulnerability in his voice, hated himself for encouraging Zanza’s tricks.

He had expected as much, but it still weighed upon his soul, like the bite of Zanza’s ether blasts. Shulk had been so lively, such a strong, just man, brimming with curiosity and wonder. Every time Egil closed his eyes, he saw Shulk’s gentle smile, his shining blue eyes.

And when he opened them, he was met with Zanza’s snarl upon those same lips.

“Fourteen years ago,” Zanza repeated. “I chose him as my vessel. I snuffed out his spirit, and took his body for my own. You never met Shulk… for there never was one. He was mine from the very start.”

It still rang ludicrous to Egil’s ears, but he hardly knew if he could protest. There was no other explanation for how Zanza had wrenched Shulk to him even after he had relinquished the monado. He could sense the truth in Zanza’s words.

He heard a scream, as if from a wounded animal, and it was only after he rushed forwards did he realize it came from him. Egil’s monado slashed wildly and sloppily, and if Zanza hadn’t been so amused, he easily could have taken advantage of the mistakes.

It confirmed something Egil had always feared, something lurking in the back of his mind. Shulk was Zanza’s puppet after all. The man who had saved him was naught more than a pleasant lie. Egil had wanted so badly to believe he was real, this precious, small homs boy with a heart as bright as Lady Meyneth’s, that he had blinded himself to the truth.

It was Zanza. Zanza had taken Shulk from him. Zanza had taken Lady Meyneth, and culled Egil’s people, and he had stolen away the only men who could put Egil’s heart to peace.

“I shall rip your tongue from your mouth for such words,” he shouted. “You will rue the day you made an enemy of me, Zanza!”

The wrath continued to pour forth, as though an ether pipe had snapped. It streamed over Egil, electric, over his eyes and face and he felt too hot to bear, yet so alive. He couldn’t hear but for the static in his ears and the screams of everyone he’d ever loved, and Valak Mountain may well have melted for how the snow felt on his plates.

It was like Egil was drowning and resurfacing all at once, gasping for air that meant nothing as the world around him dulled. There was nothing but Zanza hovering before him, Zanza his enemy, Zanza the cowardly parasite who had torn Egil’s life to pieces, and now Egil was to shred him until it seemed he had never existed at all.

Meyneth’s monado swung with all the force Egil possessed, alight with red flame and faster than ever. It was as though the entire world had slowed, and Egil pushed through the thick air and towards the smug smile on Zanza’s lips.

The sword caught Zanza’s side, and the force of the blow tossed him through the air, crashing into the snow with a sick thump. Egil advanced upon him quickly, eager to press his advantage. Just as Zanza stirred, Egil’s boot came down square on his chest.

“You are nothing.” Egil snarled. “A stain on my boot. You will die alone and forgotten, in the name of all those you slaughtered.”

Egil kept panting, systems straining as though they were still fighting. No amount of effort could will air into his breathing unit, as though every part of him had gone offline.

But Egil could not bring himself to care. He was so close. Victory was within his grasp. At last, after all these years, Zanza would know the pain he had brought to so many others. He would be rent from this world like the bug he was.

Egil raised his monado over his head, scouring himself for all the strength he could possibly bring down upon Zanza’s head.

“Just die!”

For a terrible moment, Egil wondered if Zanza had employed some sort of dark magic to rust him alive, some ward which stopped his blade. It was only when his hands began to shake, trembling in place, that he realized he still could move.

He just didn’t want to.

Something had overcome him the instant his eyes met Zanza’s- Shulk’s- the body Zanza had so unceremoniously claimed for himself. Egil no longer saw Zanza as that face contorted in fear, blue eyes blown wide.

He saw Shulk, helpless as when Egil had rent the monado useless, as when he had been knocked to the ground at the Agniratha shrine, as he had watched Egil’s cruelty with his hand outstretched. They flashed through Egil’s mind ceaselessly and relentlessly, memories of fury directed at Shulk, violence by his own hand.

Egil couldn’t harm Shulk now. He couldn’t bring himself to injure a man he admired so much, a man so gentle and meriting such honor, a man who had looked upon Egil in the throes of rage and decided only to help.

He couldn’t bring his blade down upon Shulk’s neck.

The illusion was broken when Zanza began to laugh.

He swept Egil’s legs from under him in seconds, and Egil hit the ground hard. Vertigo swam through his mind even as the chill of the snow pierced his back, and Egil cursed his own foolishness.

He had never hesitated before. He had known that he would send thousands to their deaths, and even then found the strength for such sacrifice. Today he had only been asked to kill one- a boy already lost, proven by the glimmer of bloodthirsty mirth in his eyes.

Why hadn’t Egil been able to do it?

“Pathetic,” Zanza crooned. “you feel for the boy.”

Egil had permitted his greatest enemy to live, for the brief memory of a sincere young man lost to time.

His eyes fell shut in shame. Perhaps he had earned this death.

Perhaps he might yet see Shulk again.

“Farewell, Leader of Mechonis.”

For the second time that day, Egil found himself waiting an end that would not come.

This time, however, it was more apparent. The sound of an ether spell cast gave way to Zanza’s hiss of pain, and when Egil opened his eyes once more, there was nothing between he and the sky.

“Yeah!” An excited voice shouted. “Nice going, fuzzball!”

“Riki hit Zanza kapow!”

Egil wrenched himself forwards with great effort. The snow had begun to leak into his internal systems.

“Whoa, take it easy there!”

Reyn, Shulk’s large friend, was standing by Egil. Distantly, he could make out Dunban, Fiora, and the nopon, who had since busied himself with bouncing wildly around.

“Why?” Egil heard himself ask, voice low and throaty. He had quite clearly expressed his wish that they might part ways. There was no reason for Shulk’s friends to save him now.

There was a shrug, a mild movement, and Reyn spoke. “S’what Shulk woulda wanted.”

The words struck Egil like a blow. He was correct.

It was only then, on the verge of death, that Egil had acknowledged the smallest voice within his heart. He had believed it foolish hope, something to be scorned and disposed of, but now he realized it was something more.

The warmth he felt when he thought of Shulk was not grief, nor denial. It was faith. Egil believed he existed still, that he had existed at all.

“Zanza… leaving?”

Egil looked up where the Nopon indicated, only to spot Zanza soaring away. His thoughts caught up to him, frantic, and he pawed at the snow around him.

“The monado,” he said.

“I suspect Zanza has already taken it.” Dunban’s eyes followed the golden pinprick as he fled through the sky. Egil’s hands clenched into fists.

“It was my own folly.” He said. “It was by my recklessness that Zanza came by both monados.”

Meyneth’s and Shulk’s weapons, both stolen for whatever evil purpose Zanza possessed. Guilt gnawed at Egil for his carelessness.

“We can still defeat him.” Fiora added, stepping forwards. “I’m sure of it. Lady Meyneth wouldn’t have left us if there was no chance we could win… she believed in all of us.”

Hope still came numb to Egil’s heart. He wanted so badly to believe there may be a chance. “Are you certain?”

“Well, we don’t have much of a choice.” Fiora said, but determination still burned bright in her eyes. “We have to do it, for Shulk.”

The air turned wary at that. Egil could feel the eyes of all his improvised companions linger, as they awaited what he would say.

“I agree.” Egil said. “We must fight on if we are to have any hope of saving Shulk.”

The relief was plain on the faces of Shulk’s companions. Egil felt much the same. They were steadfast allies, if nothing else, and their faith in Shulk was immeasurable. Perhaps Shulk was not lost as Arglas was.

By their side, perhaps he might see Shulk once more. Egil permitted himself the foolish dream, if only just this once.

Chapter Text

Egil had hoped, perhaps in vain, that the mortifying journey back to Colony 6 would at least be quiet. He had handed Meyneth’s monado right to Zanza, after all. The thought alone forced a wince to his face. He hardly wished to set eyes on the most bereaved victims of his campaign, and far less after an ill-fated attempt to fulfill his goal.

And the gates of Colony 6, who else should they find but the man who had attempted to shoot Shulk?

“Dickson!” Dunban snarled, unsheathing his sword. He leveled it at Dickson, eyes narrowed.

Dickson stood leaned against the wall, refusing to even lift his eyes to Dunban. He snorted.

“Ah. I hadn’t expected you lot would be here.”

To Egil’s ears, it sounded like a lie. Dickson certainly seemed in no rush. It was almost as though he had been anticipating their arrival. Reyn, however, met the challenge readily.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Reyn demanded, as reliably combative as always. “’course we’d be here. This is our home!”

“That’s right!” Sharla interrupted. “If you think we’ll just stand back and allow it to be destroyed again-!”

“Again, huh?” Dickson’s eyes moved to Egil. “Seems like you forgave the last guy who did it pretty fast.”

Egil’s fingers curled into a fist, clenching. “Only that I might stop you.”

That was the tentative term of their alliance, after all. They would tolerate him, that he might help them defeat Zanza.

Dickson snorted. “That so?”

“And why exactly would you concern yourself with our alliances?” Melia cut in, eyes narrowed.

Dickson waved a hand. “Can’t help but notice stupidity.”

“Why are you here, Dickson?” Dunban interrupted. He hadn’t lowered his sword in all this time, still pointing it squarely at Dickson’s neck. “If it’s a fight you want…”

Dickson shook his head. “I was on my way out. I ain’t here to fight you. It’ll be way easier to level this place when you’re all leveled. I ain’t doin’ overtime when I can make Lorithia do her share.”

He stepped away from the gates as he spoke, sauntering down the grass and away from Colony 6. Egil could hear Sharla’s exhale of relief, even far from her as he stood.

“You came here… why, then?” Dunban demanded. “To taunt us?”

Dickson shrugged. “Just stopping by to say hello. Our fight can wait until Prison Island.”

He disappeared then, in a flash of light- a portal of some kind, undoubtedly facilitated by Zanza. Egil was so baffled by the conversation that he nearly missed how Dickson had revealed Zanza’s location.

That meant that they were either extremely confident, or extremely foolish. Egil would know. He had told Shulk where to find him many times before.

(X)

“Are you alright?”

The girl, Fiora, craned her neck upwards at Egil. Her eyes were narrowed in pain.

“I’m fine,” she said. Egil sighed.

She hadn’t staggered from their planning meeting because she was fine. He could see it in their eyes that Dunban and Melia each wished to follow, but neither was bold enough to push their luck.

How fortunate that Egil cared little for the Bionis’ social conventions.

“How odd,” he remarked. “I would expect that, with Lady Meyneth’s soul removed, you would be in a great deal of pain right now.”

Fiora winced. It appeared that Egil was correct.

“Your body relied on the energy within her- her monado- to continue to function.” Egil elaborated, though his voice became softer. “There is no use in lying to me. I know this better than anyone.”

“I don’t want the others to worry,” Fiora confessed. Her fingers tightened along the wall of Junks she was using for support. “They all already have so much to think of… especially while Shulk is gone.”

Something twisted in Egil’s processors. The mere reminder stung.

“It is true. Shulk’s absence has taken a great toll on…” his voice trailed, as Egil fought for the words. He couldn’t linger on the thought of Shulk any longer. “They already worry, Fiora. You may as well be honest.”

Her face contorted once more. “Maybe I’ll tell them… after all this is over.”

Egil chuckled. “After this is over, I intend to solve the matter entirely.”

Fiora blinked. “What?”

“There must be a way to reverse the process… and as the designer of the Face Units, I believe there no better theorist than I.” Egil shifted, thoughtful. “Though, if you have reservations, I would understand. Linada is a very skillful doctor, and Shulk displayed some interest as well-“

“Not Shulk!” Fiora interrupted, shaking her head. “He’s more likely to go poking around in the wiring than actually fix anything!”

Egil chuckled into his fist. “Be that as it may…”

Her joking demeanor softened. “Thank you, Egil.”

“Nonsense. Such a thing is only my duty, after placing you in this position to start…”

Fiora’s eyes lingered on the floor, dull. “No. It was… Zanza, wasn’t it? It was him all along… who did all of this.”

Egil turned aside. He could hardly bear to think of it. Now, however, the floodgates had been opened. It all came back.

The fury at losing to Zanza, at being caught unawares. The emptiness, now that Meyneth was well and truly gone.

When he thought of Shulk, it was like the sensation of falling, dizzying and heart-wrenching. Egil’s mind filled with things he longed to tell him- how much he respected Shulk’s work, how much he enjoyed the young man’s company, how grateful he was for Shulk’s kind heart.

If it weren’t for Shulk’s outstretched hand, that day when Egil had threatened to annihilate every last one of his people, he would be the same dead man walking he had been for all those centuries. It was only Shulk, his simple suit for peace, that could have helped him.

It was his soothing voice, his passion, his soft smile which had saved Egil from the spiraling torment he had endured for so long.

Why did Zanza always select such men for his vessels? Was it merely cruel irony, that such kind, bright men must be puppeted for thoughtless cruelty?

“Egil?”

He had been silent too long.

“Zanza will pay.” Egil said simply. “I shall stop him, and he will pay.”

He had to save Shulk. Arglas might have been lost, but Egil would bring Shulk back if it was the last thing he did.

Yet, even as he spoke the words, resonating true in his chest, it felt hollow. How could they defeat a god?

Egil’s forces had hardly worked against Zanza. The Mechonis might be capable of defeating him, but the price would be too high. Egil had been quick to explain so himself. With Alcamoth destroyed, much of the Bionis’ best weaponry was lost as well. Frontier Village and the colonies could hardly fight the mechon, let alone a god.

The war meetings were dismal and brutal. They sat for long hours, each racking their brains for any solution, crushed under the weight of their short time limit and the sheer hopelessness of their situation.

If Zanza began to move the Bionis, it would surely be too late.

Egil loathed to see such blank frustration on the faces of his comrades. Dunban sat with a perfectly neutral expression as Melia buried her face in her hands, and Reyn took to violence on the surrounding landscape. Egil did not fare much better. He could hardly think what was possible.

“It doesn’t seem possible, without the monado…” Fiora repeated the terrible conclusion they had only just come to. Gods could only be defeated with a monado. Zanza had both in existence.

In short, they were out of options.

“There must be some way…” The machina could replicate some of the powers of the monado, particularly with Egil’s research, but their model would lack the divine capabilities to see the future, or to slay gods for that matter.

Egil sighed. Perhaps it was their only option. He would have to learn to mimick the monado’s power in order to operate on Fiora, so perhaps the model developed here might be doubly useful.

It was simply a matter of reverse engineering his previous technology. The Apocrypha Generator had employed destructive interference, so it followed that if he created constructive interference with the monado’s waves-

Egil’s breath caught. The Apocrypha Generator.

“Perhaps,” he said hurriedly, “the best strategy is not to attain a monado of our own. Perhaps we need not match Zanza’s power.”

Fiora looked up at him with quizzical eyes, but Egil was electrified.

“Perhaps we need only weaken he and the monado.”

(X)

Shulk’s limbs felt heavy.

It was as though his clothing was made of iron, pinning him down in a void that hardly even existed. Any limb he attempted to move shook, weak and feeble, and coughs racked through him.

Shulk could have panicked, at the crushing darkness surrounded him- and part of him wanted to, but he knew that he was in danger either way, so alarm would be useless. He had to concentrate and figure out what was going on if he wanted to escape somehow.

What had happened? Shulk couldn’t remember… he hadn’t gone to sleep, but he hadn’t been conscious either.

He gasped, breath choking. Valak Mountain. Zanza had made for Valak Mountain, and it was when he had touched the monado that Shulk blacked out.

It made sense- with both monados, Zanza was surely powerful enough to force Shulk into slumber, to fully take his body for his own. That likely explained why Shulk could no longer hear Alvis as well.

But… Shulk’s head swam, as he looked down at his own body. He was conscious now. What was happening? It didn’t seem likely that Zanza had made a mistake.

Shulk’s muscles shook in protest as he took on the futile task of attempting to stand. Every movement was a struggle. His muscles began to ache, sapped of their strength and sore from disuse, and his breath came ragged and shallow. But Shulk couldn’t give up.

If Zanza had both monados, he would surely proceed with his plan. He would destroy the Mechonis, and Colony 6, and the people they had worked so hard to protect would die by his hand. Shulk couldn’t allow it, not after they had peace at last. Egil had laid down his weapons, and those of the Bionis had accepted his pleas for unity.

He wouldn’t allow Zanza to stand in their way.

Shulk bit back his gasps of pained effort as he finally staggered to his feet. The people of the Bionis deserved better. His friends- Fiora, Reyn, Dunban, Riki, Melia, Sharla- deserved better.

Egil deserved better.

Once at his feet, Shulk put his mind to use. Although his head ached, he focused as best as he was able, to see through his own eyes.

Pushing past the fog of Zanza’s consciousness, Shulk was able to make out his own two hands, clutching each of the monados. Zanza was gazing down at the water- Eryth Sea, Shulk realized, by the distinctive floating islands.

Shulk’s breath caught. They were on Prison Island.

Zanza didn’t look down at the world how Shulk once had- with wonder and awe, desperate to study and explore it. He looked down just as he had at Alcamoth, with the pride of a conqueror gazing down at what was his.

“Oh?” A smile tugged at his lips. “Are you watching, Shulk? This is what you’ve been living for, these past fourteen years… the rebirth of a god. The ceremony of destruction and recreation… and the birth of my new world!”

(X)

“I must offer you my most sincere compliments,” Egil had griped, “your dismantling of the Apocrypha Generator was quite thorough.”

“But you can fix it, right?” Shulk’s broad friend, Reyn, asked. He stared down into the scrap discerningly, though it couldn’t possibly hold any meaning for him.

Egil sighed. “It is always a simpler matter to replicate than to invent. It shall be a day at most.”

“Whoa!” Reyn seemed impressed. “Hey, you’re as good as Shulk!”

He was a great deal older and more experienced, of course, so Egil laughed at the comparison. But it was undoubtedly praise, ludicrous as it was. Perhaps what was more ludicrous was how tempted Egil was to accept the compliment wholeheartedly.

“I’m honored,” he said, and it was the truth.

True to his word, he had since repaired the generator, and it stood ready for deployment by his side. The redesigned version was far smaller, mobile enough to be brought near to Zanza and stop his abilities at the source.

“That’s the plan,” Dunban had finished.

Egil was stunned. “You truly wish for me to approach him alone?”

“Of course. We trust you,” Sharla said. Dunban nodded in agreement.

“That’s right. You have the most experience fighting this foe, Egil, and have the most knowledge of the generator. Tactically, this is our best option. Confronting the disciples will take the rest of our combined strength, so isolating Zanza will fall to you.”

Egil nodded, jaw set. “Of course. I will not fail.”

“No,” Dunban said, “I trust that you won’t.”

It was a tacit agreement, from one sworn warrior to another. Though this was more Dunban’s trade than Egil’s, Egil had now warred for the majority of his life. He understood the trust placed in him now, and he would not waste it.

As Shulk’s friends turned to face Lorithia and Dickson, as brave and reliable as ever, Egil couldn’t help but glance back one final time. Dunban met his gaze quickly, and furnished him with yet another nod.

He had their full faith. Now, Egil had to fulfill his life’s calling.

Egil stepped into the teleporter, and found himself standing before a massive cathedral.

Chapter Text

Zanza was within the cathedral, Egil was certain of it. Egil wondered if he was lying in wait, ready to strike. It was likely. He could foresee any event, after all, and any onlooker could tell that Shulk’s friends were preparing to unseat him.

Egil was proud to count himself among that number.

“Zanza!” He shouted. His voice echoed in the dome of the cathedral, vibrating off the walls. “Don’t think you’ve escaped from me!”

Where Zanza had seemed amused last they met, this time he seemed irritated. He scowled at the sight of Egil.

“You,” he spat, “have long outlived what little amusement you could offer me.”

Egil shook his head. “I wouldn’t speak so soon. I have a few tricks up my sleeve yet.”

With a click, the Apocrypha Generator roared to life. The waves fanned forth, enveloping the entire cathedral, and Zanza along with it.

The effect was immediate.

Zanza gasped in pain, hands darting to his skull. He stepped forwards, stance unsteady, caught off balance completely. Egil’s processors thundered. It had worked. The Apocrypha Generator worked. His toils had not all been for nothing- he could weaken Zanza now, when it mattered most.

The effect didn’t last for long, though. Zanza recovered quickly, eyes turned firey and murderous.

He snarled in frustration, striking at Egil with his monado. Egil dodged, darting out of the way and returning the blow with ether of his own. Even as Zanza continued the onslaught, he staggered slightly.

“What have you-“ he snarled, as the expression on his face faltered and warped. “…I… Egil…”

They were two simple words, nearly nothing at all, and yet Egil was swept away entirely by hope.

(X)

Shulk awoke in a flash.

Something was dampening Zanza’s power. It let him inhale, awaken once more, and watch from Zanza’s gold-flecked eyes.

A part of Shulk wondered why he was bothering. There wasn’t anything he could do, considering Zanza’s sheer might. He hardly wanted Zanza to be correct, but there didn’t seem to be any point in the struggle.

What could he do? Shulk had faced impossible problems before, of course. That was his work- he figured out how things worked, built new machines, had even studied the monado itself. He had no idea how to even begin approaching this problem, however. Zanza was all knowing, all seeing, all powerful, and Shulk… had never existed to begin with.

Still, Shulk couldn’t help but watch closely as Egil and Zanza clashed, air taut with tension. He certainly didn’t want Egil to lose. He cared for Egil, his unlikely new friend and companion, and couldn’t bear to see him hurt.

Egil was nearly a match for Zanza thus far, but Zanza was a god, and capable of nearly anything, particularly with both monados. With a jerk of the Bionis the floor shifted, forcing Egil back, where he stumbled and crashed to the ground. Shulk’s heart raced. Watching like this, completely helpless, was nearly unbearable.

As Egil fell, however, Shulk couldn’t help but notice something else fall with him- something that dropped by his side. Zanza didn’t know what the object was, and didn’t particularly care otherwise, but Shulk recognized it with a pang.

It was like stepping onto Valak Mountain for the first time, a jolt of icy cold wind flying into Shulk’s face. He felt the very breath still in his lungs.

Egil had kept his notebook?

It came crashing down onto Shulk, then, a realization both bitter and freeing. Egil had kept it because it- and Shulk- were real. This was the proof. Zanza wouldn’t have bothered to study the Bionis, as its creator and subjugator. Only Shulk would have thought to do so, would have penned observations and theories and thoughts. Those were his ideas, his words, his very existence contained in the notebook- and Egil had safekept them for him.

Only Shulk would have spared Egil. Zanza would not have. He wouldn’t have befriended Egil. That was all Shulk.

Shulk couldn’t see him, but he could hear Alvis, as clearly as though he was standing just beside him.

“Do you see now, Shulk?”

Shulk nodded.

“I might have died that day on Valak Mountain, but now, I have a second chance.” He said, words coming to him easily. “It doesn’t really matter why or how. I won’t waste it.”

He couldn’t see Alvis, per se, but Shulk knew somehow that Alvis was smiling. It was in that subtle, mysterious way of his, but gratifying all the same.

He’d done it.

The light enveloped him, warm and welcoming. His vision cut out entirely, along with his hearing and sense of touch. Shulk bathed in the sensation, finally free at last.

He really was real.

“Shulk? Shulk!”

Shulk blinked. Now that he had come to, he recognized his place in his own body again. Yet, it was different, now. He was garbed in white and gold- surely Zanza’s doing- and he still hovered slightly off the ground. Shulk inhaled.

He had taken his body back, yes, but Zanza was still there. Shulk had taken over for both of them.

Zanza’s powers were incredible, nearly overwhelming. Shulk took a few unsteady breaths, trying to steady himself as he drank it all in. He could sense the life around him, feel the Bionis beneath him as though it were an extension of himself. If he concentrated, Shulk was certain he could move it.

It was a terrifying sensation, all things considered.

Shulk could sense Egil nearby, tentatively looking up at him. He smiled, as much as he was able.

“It’s me, Egil.” He said simply. The worry on Egil’s face faded immediately.

“Shulk,” he said. Shulk nodded.

He could see everything, after all, sensing it like it was laid plainly before him. He could watch the vicious duel between Zanza’s disciples and his friends, the blows traded and the wounds sustained.

“I’ll be back.” He said. “I have to help them, first.”

It was all too horrifyingly easy, teleporting down to the lower parts of Prison Island. Shulk had manifested in the middle of a vicious battle, yet none of it troubled him. The blows and spells deflected from him without even a conscious thought.

At his presence, however, the battlefield turned silent. There was a chorus of gasps from Shulk’s friends, and a satisfied smirk from Dickson and Lorithia both.

Shulk took a breath.

“Dickson, Lorithia,” he said, “This is your final chance. Leave in peace, or I will strike you down.”

Shulk didn’t expect them to accept his offer. He only knew that he had to at least try, that there was always a chance, no matter how slight, that his request for peace might be met by them.

That was how it had worked with Egil, hadn’t it? Even when Shulk had doubted himself, even when Egil’s own family had proclaimed him beyond saving, Shulk had still tried. He’d always attempted, always insisted, always offered his hand in case it might work.

It didn’t work this time, though.

“Lord Zanza?” Lorithia asked, baffled. Dickson shook his head.

“No.” He said, eyes knowing.

“It’s just me,” Shulk said, the best explanation he could offer. Dickson nodded.

He saw Lorithia’s attack before she even made the move. Shulk absorbed the ether energy, directing it right back at her. It knocked her backwards with a loud cry, and Melia and some of the others pursued. It wouldn’t take much effort to finish her off, if she chose to keep fighting. As unlikely as it was, Shulk wanted to leave her one last chance to surrender.

Dickson wasn’t so foolish. He shook his head, snorting.

“You’d better give it to me as good as you got, kid.” He said. “Understand?”

“I do.” Shulk said. He looked down, though, eyes landed squarely on Prison Island’s hewn stone. He studied every crack and stain.

Why was this still so painful?

He looked up, however, before Dickson could tell him to raise his head or some such. He would meet his fate eye-to-eye.

Dickson smiled before the blast struck his chest. It looked something like the days when he’d patted Shulk on the back and congratulated him on his research. It looked something like pride.

Shulk came over to where Dickson’s body had come to lay on the pavement, unsure of what to do next. His other friends had given him wide berth, eyes still warily trained on Lorithia. Shulk leaned closer to the ground, not quite crouching down, as Dickson wheezed.

“You got him good, huh?” Dickson asked, gesturing to Shulk. He had to be referring to Zanza, but…

“Not just him.” Shulk said truthfully. Dickson shunted his face to the side.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He coughed. Shulk was suddenly overcome with an urge, a fear, something lying dormant in the back of his mind.

“Dickson, did you-“

“Kid?” Dickson interrupted suddenly, eyes fallen back on Shulk. “Quit asking so many questions. It’ll be the death of you.”

A laugh pushed past Shulk’s lips, humorless and strange. He didn’t know what any of this meant, or how to feel. But he couldn’t accept. He was a scientist. That was how he’d been raised.

“I won’t.” He said, truthful.

Dickson closed his eyes. “Thought you’d say that.”

He didn’t open them again.

Shulk rose back to his feet unsteadily. Were the wind stronger, he might have toppled entirely. He felt strangely weightless.

“Shulk?” He heard Reyn in the distance- and Dunban, too.

“Are you alright?”

Shulk opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t, not with how his body seized. He lurched forwards, doubling over. It was just like the pain before destroying the Apocrypha Generator.

Back then, of course, he hadn’t been able to place the sensation. It was a strange anomaly, too similar to what Dunban went through. Now, however, he recognized it as the clash between Zanza and the generator’s opposing waves, each fighting to seize his body.

Zanza was weakened, but he was still powerful. Shulk had let his guard down. He winced, trying to swallow down the uncomfortable feeling. He heard the footsteps of his friends approaching, fraught with worry.

Shulk held up his hand, warning them away.

“Stay back!” Shulk shouted. “I can’t- control it-“

It was like being knocked to the ground. Shulk panted, the wind knocked from his lungs, and he felt a jerk as his body was ripped from where he stood. Before he could properly realize where he’d been transported to, his vision went dark.

(X)

Shulk had promised to return.

That had been Shulk, Egil was certain of it. Perhaps it was foolhardy of him to trust anything, after the second possession of this kind he had witnessed, but Egil was prepared to face that fact. He was a fool, wholeheartedly.

There was little chance Zanza could have mimicked Shulk so closely, so comfortably. Egil knew well the sensation of Zanza’s presence- that thin air of discomfort, like missing a step on a staircase. He’d felt it in Alcamoth, on Valak Mountain, but not when Shulk had spoken to him just now.

That had felt more like familiarity, more like comfort, more like the first sip of water on a particularly sweltering day. It had been Shulk. Egil had no choice but to believe his feelings.

So he waited. He trusted.

In time, he heard a crash outside, and the Apocrypha Generator surged in reply. Judging by the output, it had increased operations to match an extraordinary degree of input. It was so large, in fact, that Egil was nearly certain his optical processors were in error. This amount of clashing ether energy was enough to kill Shulk outright.

It had to be Zanza. Egil bolted for the cathedral door, generator in tow. That had to be his aim- overwhelming Shulk or the generator both, utilizing Shulk’s adverse response to the clashing energy to force him to succumb, if not killing him outright. If Egil could come closer, maybe the generator’s effects on Zanza would be more pronounced. Maybe he could quiet the tyrant enough for Shulk to regain focus and force him back.

Just outside of the cathedral, Egil’s head swung wildly as he scanned the environment. Where could they possibly have gone? Were Shulk and Zanza still further down, Shulk’s friends would have handled the situation, but that clearly wasn’t the case. The heat of the generator indicated that the interference was close, but where?

As Egil scanned his surroundings, met with the bridge beside him, he followed it upwards with a jolt to his core processor.

Naturally, with the sheer amount of Shulk’s allies and the fading relevance of his own, Zanza would flee to the most remote location- the bell tower.

Egil sprinted across the bridge, eyes trained upwards to where he could make out a faint silhouette at the top.

This time, he would succeed. His decades of planning would not go to waste. For himself, for Arglas, and for Shulk, he would stop Zanza’s tyranny once and for all.

(X)

It was like wrestling.

Shulk had never been one for wrestling, of course, but Reyn had, and he was prone to tackling Shulk every once in awhile when they were still in school. He’d since grown out of the habit, but Shulk still remembered the feeling.

This was far more brutal, however. Shulk could feel the sting of teeth and nails gnawing at his skin, blows from fists and knees aimed at every soft part of his body. He thrashed in turn, trying desperately to pull Zanza off of him, to catch his breath.

“You’re nothing,” Zanza hissed, slamming Shulk into the ground. “A mere accident of fate. It’s useless to resist. Just give up!”

“No!” Shulk managed to grind out, even as his lungs strained. “I’ll keep fighting for as long as I can. I won’t just lie down and let you win!”

“You’re just like him,” Zanza snarled, “Stupid, presumptuous mortals. I would have offered you a place at my side, you know. You could have been my disciple.”

“Never!” Shulk caught the elbow aimed at his face, snarling. “I would never join you!”

“Of course not.” Zanza’s smile was thin, sickly sweet like honey. “I’ll rid myself of you, and that hunk of scrap metal, too. Your struggles will amount to nothing. Why do you even bother?”

Even as Shulk continued to fight him, he began to think. Zanza’s words struck dissonant in his ears- not for their intent, to taunt him, but because they felt wrong.

If they were separate it was possible for Zanza to kill him- but he hadn’t. Dickson had tried, with that bullet to his chest, but here Shulk had remained, as much a part of his body as the parasite fighting him now.

Why? Why was he still here? Why was Zanza attempting to subjugate him, rather than to simply be rid of him?

Shulk inhaled sharply. Of course. It was all so obvious, in retrospect. Zanza couldn’t eliminate him. When Shulk had been in control, he’d enjoyed all the same might. Shulk was just as powerful as Zanza was, somehow. Maybe in residing within Shulk all these years, he’d left a part of himself behind. Maybe Shulk had always had this potential, and that was why Zanza had chosen him in the first place.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. Shulk understood at last. All he needed to do was focus, hone in on his own power, and then-

When Shulk opened his eyes next, he was standing upright. His skin buzzed with electricity, with heat, with collision and separation. There were two bodies now where there had been one, though Zanza remained still on the floor.

“Shulk!” He heard Egil call. Shulk glanced over briefly, with a smile, if only just to demonstrate that it was him and he was alright. He turned back soon, however, determination clear in his eyes.

In his hand laid the proof of his realization- his monado, a dusty blue and glowing powerfully.

“Where did you-“ Zanza demanded, stricken. “That’s impossible!”

Shulk raised the sword. It felt right, the heft and weight suiting him better than even the monado ever had. It felt like an extension of himself, as easily wielded as one of his limbs.

He brought the blade down, stabbing into Zanza’s abdomen with all of his heft. It was enough. Zanza’s booming voice quieted, free-falling until it was only human.

“So this is the death of a god,” he said, “my very world, fading…”

It was he who faded, ultimately, nothing more than light rays in the quickly fading day. Shulk felt the smile on his lips more than he intended it, knees suddenly buckling.

He was so tired.

(X)

“Shulk!”

It was the second time Egil had called for him today, though this time, he received no response. Shulk’s body, still garbed in Zanza’s strange clothing, collapsed to the ground. He only seemed smaller bereft of Zanza, without his infernal grin and booming voice. Shulk seemed almost too fragile to touch like this, slumped against the jet-black rocks.

Egil dropped the Apocrypha Generator and took to his knees, reaching a gentle hand forwards.

“Open your eyes,” he said. It was a scene all too familiar- too much like his mother, like Lady Meyneth, like countless deaths witnessed in a mad god’s rampage.

Egil wouldn’t lose yet another loved one to Zanza. He couldn’t.

“Shulk-“ Egil was bold enough now to reach out fully, fastening his hands around Shulk’s shoulders. He pulled Shulk nearer to him, seized with terror as his head hung limply, swaying with the movement.

“Please,” Egil said, too desperate for pride. “Do not permit his victory. You must live, Shulk.”

Shulk couldn’t die, not when he had been so instrumental to saving both their worlds. It was to his credit that the Bionis and Mechonis still stood, that Zanza and his disciples laid defeated. Egil shuddered at the very notion. That was a price too high to pay, too unfair to even think of.

It seemed ironic, now. Egil had achieved his goal at last- Zanza was dead, and the Mechonis and his people safe at last. Yet, all he cared for was the small homs boy Zanza had used as a vessel. He’d imagined so many times how satisfied he would feel in this moment, but all he could feel was panic and dread.

Egil leaned in, resting his forehead against Shulk’s. “This is no victory without you, Shulk. I wish for nothing more than to live in peace with you.”

Egil hardly knew if his pleading made a difference. He hoped so, hoped that nothing he had done was in vain, but ultimately couldn’t possibly care either way as Shulk inhaled, and color began to return to his face.

“Egil…” Shulk stirred, slightly, and Egil could see a glimpse of blue from underneath his eyelid. “I heard your voice.”

Egil laughed, breathy and humorless. So it had worked, after all.

He pulled Shulk to his chest, enveloping him in a hug. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Shulk’s voice was weak, yet insistent. “I promised… I wouldn’t give up.”

Egil released him, suddenly anxious that the pressure might harm Shulk further. “Just breathe, Shulk.”

Shulk did, though with a small laugh- more an exhale of breath, than anything, but the smile on his face was encouraging.

“I can’t rest until this is all over. We don’t truly have peace yet.” He said. “You still haven’t apologized to me, remember?”

Egil was overcome at the teasing reminder, at the sight of the spark in Shulk’s eyes- like the sky above them both, like the gleam of the ether crystals Shulk had sketched in his notes.

“Forgive me, Shulk,” he breathed, before he had no choice but to kiss him.

Shulk made a small noise of surprise, but was ultimately more than willing. He circled his arms around Egil’s neck, meeting his lips gladly.

It was a brief, chaste thing, but that was alright. There would be time for more later. They had nothing but time now, with Zanza defeated and the peoples of both worlds in harmony.

Shulk seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

“I was thinking,” he said, “that we should go to space next.”

Egil thought of Arglas, and the boundless sea, and the world Lady Meyneth had entrusted to them, and the curiosity shining in Shulk’s blue eyes.

“That,” he said, “sounds perfect.”