The wind whips at her hair, unravelling strands of her ponytail and rustling her skirts – cold and brisk, yet not too cold that it chills her, and not too brisk that it blinds her, though it might just be that Galatheia is helping her.

"Oh my god," Raine mutters, muffled from the way her face is buried in the crook of Yara's neck, her grip white-knuckled – not that Yara can exactly see it, but it probably is from how tightly she's grabbing on – as beneath them, forest and mountains fly past in a blur. She's surprisingly light, even with the added weight of the foldable wheelchair Yara is also carrying, but then again, that might be because of Galatheia too. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god –"

Her reaction is, all things considered, mild, considering they're up so high Yara can see for kilometers around, and this is her first time properly flying. For both of them.

"We're nearly there," Yara informs, and already beneath her is the temple, its many stone steps speeding past a lot faster than if they were to climb it.

"That's – good," Raine squeaks out, and Yara begins to descend as the temple comes into view, until she can clearly see the ground. "Ah – not that I'm insulting your skill or anything, it's just –"

"No offense taken," Yara reassures, and now she's speeding into the temple, lowering herself closer and closer till she's nearly touching the ground, crumbling walls and stone columns flying past as she pushes herself and thinks faster, faster, get to the back –

And suddenly, it stops.

Wisps of Galatheia swirl around her like small fragments of spirits, lifting pieces of her hair and causing her skirts to float up to her knees before it deposits her gently on the ground, feet touching stone with a barely audible tap.

Her brows furrow.

Ahead.

Look.

She frowns, tries to summon Galatheia again, but it pushes back against her, insistent – not like it's rejecting her, but like it wants something, stubbornly nudging her forward.

What –

Look.

And then she notices.

And her mouth dries.

"Anya!"

She fumbles as she unfolds the wheelchair and sets Raine down before dashing over immediately, a small part of her brain still running on autopilot and analyzing the scene: men upstairs incapacitated, scorch marks, the smell of gunpowder and empty bullet casings on the ground, a recently knocked over wall – a fight happened, while the larger part of her is all panic and adrenaline and Stars there's so much blood why is there so much blood –

"Hey, kid," Anya coughs out, scarlet flecked on her lips and a cut on her cheek leaking red. "Didn't know if you would manage to make it in time – the rest are further in. You should hurry –"

"Don't talk," Yara snaps, beginning to tear off strips of fabric from her skirts. "Now where are you hurt?" Beside her, she vaguely registers Raine wheeling herself over and the horrified gasp that follows – and no wonder, the air is so thick with the coppery tang of too much lost blood that you'd have to be practically anosmic not to smell it.

"Too many places to count," she rasps, "but don't bother. I took care of Argus –" she gestures to the collapsed wall Yara had noticed earlier, a giant pile of rubble and debris that would probably be enough to kill anyone should they not have any protection, or, in Argus's case, unless they have regenerative abilities. "Immortal or not, it should take quite a while before he manages to dig his way out of there."

"List them anyway," Yara retorts, beginning to apply pressure on one of the larger wounds – the fabric is soaked through with crimson almost immediately, warm and wet and too much it's too much she can't stop it –

Anya puts a hand on her wrist, stopping her – grip firm despite the wounds and blood loss. "Yara," she says again, voice steady, "you know as well as I do this can't be fixed."

"But I can't just leave –"

"You have to," she interrupts, insistent, and Yara flinches. "I'm not what you came here for, and if you continue staying here, you'll waste your time. All you'll do is slow down my death a little – but in doing so, you might also put the lives of your friends at risk. In fact, it's likely they're already in danger."

Anya's eyes soften. "And it's all right. I've lived for long enough anyway, and there isn't much of anything left for me here. I know your guilt, and I know you carry burdens – I know you want to save as many people in return because of that. But you can let me go. I'm tired, and I – I want to rest."

"This isn't – this isn't okay. I didn't want to let anyone else die," Yara whispers, and she can feel her vision blurring with tears now, yet stubbornly refusing to fall.

"I know. But you need to go anyway. And besides – I've done everything I need to do. In a way, this last act – this was my redemption. So go. Save Kaya. Keep the cycle from ever repeating again. And... Raine, right?" Anya turns her head a little to see the other girl, who nods furiously, hair flying and tears beginning to make their way down her cheeks. Anya smiles. "Thank you, for what you've done and what you're doing. Take care of each other, alright?"

"We will," Raine replies, voice wobbling.

Anya gives a small nod, then tilts her head back to look at the sky. "It's a nice view. Not bad for the last thing I'll ever see," she murmurs, and then, voice hardening: "Go. Now. Both for the sake of your friends and for all of the Stars who died."

Yara hesitates, then finally, with great difficulty, nods and stands up. "Thank you, Shu Anya," she says, bowing deeply. "For everything."

"Just Anya is fine," she says, and, taking a deep, shuddering breath, she continues: "And thank you too, Yara. I think you, and the rest – Kaya and Allioni and Tam and Chia – you gave me the push I finally needed. Now hurry."

Yara pauses, nods again.

And, gritting her teeth, taking the handles of Raine's wheelchair, she forces herself to leave.

A moment later, they're racing through the remains of the temple once more.

-------------------------

"Mom?"

The word leaves her lips without much thought and she instantly wishes she could take it back because no, this woman isn't her mother, was never her mother anyway and only someone who needed her for the sake of her actual daughter.

"Don't move," her mother – no, Mrs. Rivyet, she corrects herself – says, gesturing with her gun at the four of them, "otherwise I won't be able to guarantee I won't hit something more vital next time." Her hair is disheveled, scuff marks on her dress, one of her sleeves torn and a smudge of dirt on her cheek – barely put together, a borderline wild look in her eyes.

From around them are the sounds of footsteps and a half-dozen more men and women appear, all carrying more guns aimed at them.

Kaya knows – she knows that despite being outnumbered, the odds are still in their favor. They've already gone through the same situation again and again – in fact, they've even faced worse than this.

They should, by all logic, be able to get out of this easily – all she has to do is summon Aehra, create a momentary distraction, blind them, do something –

Yet why can't she move?

Why can't she breathe?

There is a hand on hers, stilling her, and she glances to the side to see Allioni, mouth set in a firm line, gaze straight ahead, and she thinks –

Oh, I was shaking.

Oh, she realizes, a second later.

I'm scared.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tam and Chia trade glances, and Tam, taking a deep breath, steps forward to the sound of many clicks and safeties flicked off, guns leveled and fabric rustling from movement – but all he does is say, "So it's the usual, isn't it? Kaya goes with you or we die?"

Mrs. Rivyet purses her lips, a semi-frown, and levels her own gun as well. "And? Do you think I won't shoot you? There are three of you, you know – I could always turn one of you into an example to deter it –" she jerks her head towards Kaya, "– first."

"No," Tam agrees, "you would if you had to – but I don't think you'd prefer it. And the rest, well – you'd have to order them first. But –" and here he looks at her dead on, "if I had to guess, you'd still hesitate while doing so, wouldn't you?"

Her eyes widen. "What –"

"And that moment of hesitation is all we'll need – now!" he yells, and the next moment, Allioni is shoving Kaya away towards the back of the room with a shout of "run, we'll hold them back!", and she does, breaking into a shambling run as Chia launches towards Mrs. Rivyet and tackles her to the ground, the both of them going down in a tangle of flailing limbs.

"What are you waiting for, go after – mmph!" Mrs. Rivyet orders only to be cut off halfway as Chia headbutts her in the nose with all her strength – meanwhile, Tam throws another lit bundle of fireworks at her men, frozen in between chasing Kaya down, shooting them or helping her in indecision –

With a snarl, she fires the gun in her hands in an attempt to get her off – it misses Chia by centimeters, shearing off several locks of her hair and causing Kaya's heart to skip a few beats. She freezes for a moment, watching as Chia wrestles for the gun and Allioni runs to help her, then Tam shouts, "hurry – we can't hold them off forever!" and she's running again, towards the back of the room where there's a corridor partially hidden by vines.

Grunts, scuffling, shouts, the tea-kettle-like whistle and full-on explosion of fireworks, more yelling –

A cry of "Watch out she's firing again –" and Kaya turns, sees Mrs. Rivyet reloading, sees her aiming and –

"Mom!"

The gun in Mrs. Rivyet's hand clatters to the ground, unfired.

Everything stops.

On the other end of the room is Yara, covered in grime and blood, skirts ripped, besides a girl with brown hair to her shoulders and scarred tissue around her eyes, sitting in a wheelchair.

Raine.

Hesitantly, Chia helps Allioni up, quickly nabbing the gun before the two of them retreat to a safe distance away while Mrs. Rivyet is still frozen on the ground, distracted, eyes wide. Tam backs away as well, the four of Mrs. Rivyet's men still not incapacitated shifting uncertainly, not quite sure what to make of this turn of events or what to do.

"What – Raine?" Mrs. Rivyet finally sputters, standing up on shaky feet before holding a hand up to wave her men off, signaling them to stand by. "What are you – how are – what are you doing here?"

"I asked – I asked Yara to bring me here," Raine replies, then shakes her head and takes a deep breath, seemingly steadying herself. "I wanted to talk. With you. Properly, face-to-face."

Mrs. Rivyet's face softens, and Kaya is struck by the thought that that's how it looks like – when a parent looks at a child of theirs that they love – then, by another, fleeting thought that she's never seen anyone look at her like there before. "I understand how confused you must be, sweetie, but not now – I promise, we'll have all the time in the world to talk later, but I can't let them get away –"

"I know everything," Raine interrupts, and Mrs. Rivyet starts in surprise. "Yara told me all of it. I asked her to. I – well," she winces, "when I found out, I tried to do... something reckless, that I thought would be able to stop it. But Yara stopped me. She told me we should try another way. That's also why I'm here –" she lifts her head, meets Mrs. Rivyet head on, determined and unshakeable, "– to stop you."

"Raine, but if you stop –"

"Please, for once, just listen," she cuts in, and Mrs. Rivyet finally falls silent. "I want – need – to ask you something." Another deep breath, like she's building up the courage for something: "Have you ever, throughout all of this, considered how I would feel about this? Have you ever considered how I would feel, knowing that someone died, that you did something like this, so I could get my sight and my legs back?"

Silence. Mrs. Rivyet opens her mouth: "But it isn't even human –"

"But she is! She's someone who lives and breathes, someone who laughs and loves and who cares for other people – what part of that isn't human? You've lived with her for years now – why can't you see that? Don't you even feel bad or guilty about it at all?"

"I –" she hesitates, then sighs. "Of course I felt guilty about it – but still, it was the only way. I didn't want you to spend the rest of your life like this –"

"But you never asked me," Raine says quietly.

"You would never have agreed. You're too kind for that, too good a person."

"So why would you –"

"Because," she says, "the world would have ruined you for it. Because, while you may be kind to the world, the world will never be kind to you. Not when you're different. I never wanted you to find out like this, never wanted you to ever realize, though it was unrealistic. But still – if you'll still believe me – all I ever wanted was your happiness," she says, voice cracking and thick with tears as a breeze blows through the empty ruins, making the silence ever louder.

And yes, Mrs. Rivyet had lied to her, hurt her, hurt her friends and made them suffer, and yet, right now, watching her like this – she can't help feeling pity.

Raine smiles. "I'm already happy, mom," she says. "So please. You don't have to do this for me."

And Mrs. Rivyet lets out a choked sob and sinks to her knees. "If you really are – then alright. I won't proceed any further."

Across from the area, Tam meets Kaya's eyes and nods, the meaning clear as day:

While they're distracted. And before she changes her mind.

Kaya gives a small nod in return.

Takes an experimental step back, and when no one reacts, takes another one, and another, until her back brushes the vines – then until she's past them too and down the short, dark corridor.

Her heel knocks against a pebble as she reaches a ledge of sort, a backward glance confirming nothing but pitch blackness and open space beyond – it skitters, then falls.

There is no clatter.

She's reached the edge.

What had Anya said again? Dive. Call for the Starstorm.

Kaya takes in a nervous, shaky breath.

Guess it's time to test that theory.

It's not like there's any other option, anyway – it's either do or die at this point, since, even if both Argus and Mrs. Rivyet might've been dealt with, the others won't be far behind.

And, well – even if the Starstorm isn't there, at the very least, with Aehra she won't end up a grease spot on the ground.

"Okay," she says out loud to herself, a bare whisper in this closed space where the walls press in like they could bury her. "Okay. Let's do this."

She reaches inwards again, closes a hand around her Starsong, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice –

And, taking that last step, she tips herself back and falls into empty air.