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: Chapter 6 :
Of Knights and Sorceresses
The concept of “Mag-Poisoning” is something created—as far as I can tell—by a wonderful author who goes by the penname of altol. The symptoms (at least the physical ones) have been altered a little for my fic, but the main concept is hers. All rights to it go to altol, as appropriate. ;
He wasn’t responding like he should. Squall glared down at the raw wound beneath his fingers, which refused to heal over like it was supposed to. None of the gashes or the cuts that slashed through Seifer’s flesh was closing over. He’d already pumped him with four Curaga spells, and had only managed to slow the bleeding a little. Cold dread was starting to set in, as Seifer’s skin began to turn the sickly bluish white pallor of approaching death.
Squall’s head was throbbing from the amount of magic he’d used. The normal human body wasn’t meant to deal with so much all at once, only Sorceresses were able to channel high-powered spells through their bodies with no apparent limit. Everyone else would quickly begin to show signs of trauma, and develop what was known as magic poisoning. Something that, if overextended, could soon become deadly.
Squall’s hold on Seifer tightened.
“Curaga!”
Again Seifer’s body jerked, but made no other move. There was no hiss of pain, no flutter in his eyes. His lips were turning purple, eyes growing sunken.
He was dying.
No . . . not like this, a tiny voice whispered in Squall’s mind, sounding strangely similar to the lost little boy who had stood on the steps of Edea’s House in the rain all those years ago and told Sis that everything would be ok. Don’t let him die like this. Please . . . .
The feather mark on Squall’s chest began to throb painfully. The skin of his temples began to splotch ruby red and bluish purple with the first signs of the magic poisoning. Burst capillaries spread like blue spider webs across his flesh and stretched toward the corners of his reddening eyes as he once again forced the powerful magic through his already overtaxed body.
“Curaga, dammit!”
Again, Seifer’s body gave a painful lurch, but refused to respond.
“C’mon Almasy,” he snarled, desperation setting in. He was stunned to feel tears stinging his eyes. “C’mon dammit, don’t you fucking give up on me that easy, you worthless piece of shit! Fight, damn you! Curaga!”
Seifer’s back bowed up off of the rocks, and then his eyes snapped open. Squall jerked as he stared down into two orbs of inky black, with no whites or iris visible.
Seifer’s lips began to move, but it wasn’t Seifer’s voice that spoke. Low, hissing, pure evil. A voice Squall still heard sometimes late at night, when Rinoa’s smile and the busy schedule of the day could no longer hold his nightmares at bay.
“He’s mine,” the voice snarled, triumphant, completely insane. “He will never be free of me, Lion Heart. Never.”
Squall jerked again as the air near by seemed to ripple like a pond of water. Suddenly Matron stepped through the portal dressed in a black silk nightgown, her long black hair flying back behind her like an angry banner. Her golden eyes were hot and burning, her pale face twisted into an expression of indignant fury.
“He was never yours to claim!” she protested, her voice shaking. Squall shuddered slightly as he felt the fierce swell of power began to gather. Edea’s eyes began to glow, and with a flash two huge black feathered wings sprouted from her back and spread wide. Seifer twisted on the ground, black eyes squeezing shut, a pained hiss escaping his discolored lips. “Let him go,” Edea demanded, hands outstretched. It started out as a low keening cry that slowly grew in volume until Seifer was screaming with all the lung power he possessed.
And then Squall was flung back from a fierce shockwave. When he scrambled back up into a sitting position, Seifer was motionless on the ground again and Edea stood over him, wings folded down in a very protective stance.
Squall didn’t move for several moments, and neither did she. Yet he could see from the lights of the car that the sickly gray pallor was gone from Seifer’s skin, and so were many of the wounds that had torn through his torso. He wasn’t completely healed, though nor was he on death’s door anymore either, apparently. After a moment, Edea raised her head, eyes sad.
“He sleeps.”
“What was that?” Squall finally managed to question. Edea’s expression became guarded again, distant.
“She lives in him still,” the Sorceress murmured, tone tired. “Like a poison inside his body, turning the very blood in his veins to a corrosive acid that eats away at all that is good in him.”
Squall turned back to stare at his old rival. They had never been friends, exactly. Comrades perhaps, once upon a time, coming together from a common goal. Holding fast to a shared pain. Yet all that had been torn asunder due to events set into motion that neither could change. For a long time Squall had hated him for it. For allowing himself to be taken. For being weak enough to fall prey to the hate and the anger and the evil. For not having the courage to stay with him, and fight with them instead of against them.
Yet . . . perhaps . . . Seifer had already paid the price of that failure. Was still paying it. And for the first time Squall began to sympathize, and to truly understand. That he couldn’t even begin to imagine the hell that Seifer Almasy had lived through from the day they parted ways and lives that fateful afternoon in Timber to this one.
“How is he still alive?” he found himself asking, voice only a soft thread of sound. Yet Edea heard, and she sighed. Her smile was sad.
“Because Seifer still has a part to play yet, in this epic tale. He believes now that he was only meant for failure, that it was his destiny to fall. One day soon, I hope that he will realize that a man’s fate is only that which he chooses to make it. That he—like you—is destined for great things. If he can only find the courage to spread his wings.”
Squall read in that what Edea wasn’t saying, eyes widening. He himself had never truly flown—realizing his true potential—until Rinoa had shown him how.
Who, then, would teach Seifer Almasy to fly?
“Wha?” she demanded, not quite awake enough yet for truly coherent conversation.
“Quistis, this is Dr. Kadowaki,” a familiar voice announced, tone tired and slightly set upon. In an instant, her SeeD training had Quistis wide awake and sitting up in bed, all fuzziness of sleep forgotten.
There was only one reason why the doctor would be calling her in the middle of the night.
“Is he alright?” she questioned, for the moment not caring about the strange fearful dread that pooled like ice in her belly.
“I’m not entirely certain,” was the doctor’s tense reply. “I just received a transmission from Squall. He and Seifer are in route, ETA 15 minutes. Apparently Seifer has some lacerations to the arms and chest area and Squall has mag-poisoning. I was hoping you might come down and lend me a hand.”
Quistis had interned under Dr. Kadowaki for three years as a Cadet, learning basic field medicine for credits toward her graduation. In the process, she and the motherly doctor had become fairly close.
“I’ll be down in five,” she assured, then hung up the phone in order to dress. There was no time to pick out something fancy. She wrestled into a pair of her Garden issue navy sweats, black t-shirt and then hurriedly pulled her blonde hair back into a high ponytail to be out of the way. She then darted out of her room at a full jog. It was just past curfew at 9:36 at night, so the halls were empty and no one was privy to her less-than-proper behavior.
Quistis reached the Infirmary in less than five minutes, only slightly winded from her jog. Kadowaki glanced up from where she was prepping one of the examination rooms.
“Ah, Quistis, good. Scrub up and help me get these rooms prepped. They should be here in about five minutes or so.”
The blonde did as she was told, quickly washing her hands up to the elbows, hurriedly drying them off, then went to go help the doctor set up.
A few minutes later they both turned to the sound of voices outside, slowly growing nearer.
“Ugh, dammit Squall, get it together! You puke on me and I swear to Hyne I’ll drop you right where you stand!” came Seifer’s growl. There was a response, but the voice was so low that the words couldn’t be discerned. Afterward, Seifer replied with, “yeah, well, I was under the impression that a Rank A SeeD Commander would be blessed with just a bit more self-control than that. Obviously that one was way off, eh Pube Boy?”
In the next instant, the Infirmary doors hissed open. Both Quistis and Kadowaki gasped, eyes rounded, at their first glimpse of the sorry-looking pair.
Seifer was almost completely supporting Squall, holding one of the slightly shorter man’s arms around his neck with his other arm wrapped around his torso to help propel him forward, as the Commander’s legs had almost completely buckled and didn’t seem to want to work properly.
Seifer’s black tank top was torn completely down the middle and hung from his broad shoulders in bloody tatters, almost every inch of skin visible gummed with old and fresh blood from the myriad of cuts that marred his body. Quistis’ trained eye immediately identified them as knife—or sword—cuts.
Squall didn’t seem to have any external wounds, but what made her bite her lip in worry was the fact that upon cursory inspection the somber Commander looked to have probably the worst case of mag-poisoning she had ever seen. Both temples were livid with scarlet red and deep purple bruises, and the burst veins spread out toward his eyes like a hideous web. His eyes themselves were almost completely red, no whites visible anymore do to the burst blood vessels.
They both hesitated just in the doorway, staring at Quistis and the frowning doctor with expressions that could only be likened to guilty boys caught raiding the cookie jar. Before Kadowaki could speak, Quistis found her voice, one filled with incredulity and annoyance.
“Just what in the hell happened to you two?” she demanded.
Seifer and Squall glanced at each other, an unspoken agreement passing between them, before they turned back to her and announced at the same time, “training accident.” Squall continued to look a little sheepish, while Seifer’s mouth quirked into a faint, one-sided grin of amusement. Quistis nearly groaned. As enemies, these two were a true force to be reckoned with. But should the fates throw them together on the same side, fighting for a common purpose, there was just no stopping them.
“Training my ass,” she snapped, but Kadowaki finally found her wits and intervened. She came forward and quickly but gently pulled Squall from Seifer’s support and began helping him toward one of the examination rooms.
“Quistis, help me with Squall,” she murmured as she did so. “Mr. Almasy, kindly put yourself in Exam room B and get off those ruined clothes please. I’ll be in as soon as I have Mr. Leonheart stabilized.”
Seifer turned and did as he was told with surprisingly little muttering. Quistis followed the doctor as she helped Squall into the opposite room, helping to maneuver the obviously exhausted Commander down onto the bed. Much of his white shirt and jeans were bloodstained as well, though apparently not his own. Quistis was now rabid with curiosity as to what really happened, but knew she’d have to wait for the answers, so didn’t bother asking again.
As soon as she had him settled, Kadowaki turned and reached for a basin. And none too soon. As if anticipating his needs, she held the basin up to his face just as Squall doubled over and became violently ill into it. Having seen much worse, Quistis wasn’t fazed by the sound or sight, reaching over to begin setting up an IV of Elixir and Remedy.
As soon as Squall had emptied the contents of his stomach, he obediently rinsed with water and spit as the doctor told him, then allowed Kadowaki to guide him into laying back. He did so with a pained groan, needing Quistis’ help in lifting his legs up and swinging them around for a completely prone position. While Kadowaki began examining and gently prodding the severest area of bruising, Quistis quietly and efficiently inserted the IV into Squall’s lax hand, taping it in place. He didn’t flinch when she inserted the needle, well used to them by now she would imagine.
“So, Mr. Leonheart,” the doctor murmured, her tone one of a stern, disapproving mother, “d’you care to tell me what spell it was you just nearly killed yourself casting?”
Squall winced as she flashed a small light into his eyes, grimacing, then sighed.
“Curaga,” was his soft, reluctant answer. Quistis felt her eyebrows rise, and glanced over to catch Kadowaki with a similar expression of surprise on her face.
This just kept getting more and more interesting by the minute.
Quistis helped the doctor retrieve three vials of blood for testing to determine the exact level of magic poisoning in his body, though they both knew it would probably tip the charts, just from looking at him. Again, Squall didn’t complain. He probably didn’t have it in him to grumble even if he’d wanted to. Mag-poisoning typically gave the patient the worst case of migraine imaginable—hence the nausea and sensitivity to light. It also made the body bone-tired, every muscle aching and sore as if they had run for miles without rest.
“Squall!”
They turned to see Rinoa hurrying into the Infirmary, dressed in a simple nightgown and wrapper, her brown eyes wide and her hair disheveled.
Quistis helpfully stepped back to allow the Sorceress room. Rinoa hurried up to Squall’s side, who reopened his eyes at the sound of her voice and tried for a smile—albeit a pained and exhausted one.
“Oh Hyne, what happened to you?” she whispered, her fingers brushing back through his light brown hair. The other hand slipped over his collar bone, palm resting over the curious feather mark there. Instantly much of the pain that had been clouding his steel-colored eyes faded.
Quistis watched the tender byplay between the two silently, inwardly in turmoil. She had long ago reconciled that she and Squall would never have worked as a couple, even if he had returned her brief infatuation. She knew now that she wasn’t in love with Squall—had never really been in love with him the way Rinoa was. Her feelings for him were just misplaced and confused from the remnants of what remained of her memories from the orphanage. Yet why did she still feel this ugly twisting in her gut that felt frighteningly similar to jealousy when the beautiful girl bent to place a kiss to Squall’s discolored forehead? This cold crawling sensation inching up her spine as she watched them touch, watched the loving devotion that rested deep in their eyes. Squall and Rinoa were both her friends weren’t they? Shouldn’t she be happy for them, just as she was happy for Irvine and Selphie, and Xu and Nida?
Why did this bother her so much?
Dr. Kadowaki, taking pity on her, abruptly turned from where she was taking notes on a clipboard.
“Quistis, dear, could you go into the next room and get Almasy cleaned up, bandaged and prepped for stitching?”
Thankful for any excuse to leave the room, Quistis gave no protest. She exited and gently shut the door, then hesitated just outside of it and let out a shuddering breath, leaning back against the wall next to it. Then Quistis pulled herself together with a mental shake and then moved to Exam room B and opened the door.
She didn’t notice at first, too caught up in her inner thoughts, as she reached into various drawers and pulled out several wads of gauze, filling a bowl with clean water and pulling out a few bottles of potion and antidote. When she turned back to the patient sitting perched up on the examination table however Quistis froze mid stride, eyes widening.
He, of course, had stripped out of his ruined clothes—a little detail she had forgotten about until just now. Seifer had a sheet draped around his otherwise naked waist for modesty, but other than that he was completely bare. Nudity shouldn’t have affected her. As a SeeD, they were trained to ignore such paltry details and as a field medic she had been exposed to more than one naked male body. Yet for some reason Quistis could feel her cheeks turning red, especially under that amused green stare.
He was certainly a sight, half covered in blood and various lacerations, spotting the white material around his hips in crimson. He wasn’t quite to his former physical prowess, but he was fast approaching it, as three and a half months of training under Zell was beginning to show its effects. Instead of skin and bone, Seifer now had powerful slabs of muscle cording his tall frame again. His shoulders were beginning to fill back out, his pectorals defined, biceps knotted with rock-hard abs that marched down his otherwise flat belly. She also noticed something that she’d never noticed before, and felt her eyes widen with surprise.
Seifer had the Firecross—the symbol that used to grace the arms of his gray trench coat—tattooed in black over his stomach. The cross bisected over his bellybutton and the bottom end disappeared beneath the sheet to parts unknown.
Her eyes were soon drawn to the mark on the left side of his chest, though. It was almost a compulsion, gaze locking onto the hideous thing. At once she was filled with a strange sense of anger. The sight of that mark on his skin made her belly crawl with revulsion, though why she couldn’t even begin to explain.
Quistis desperately made a grab for her normal composure. Amazingly Seifer didn’t say anything as she neared, setting her tools down on a tray nearby. Neither spoke as she set about cleaning the gummed blood from his chest and arms as best she could. For her part, Quistis was doing her best to ignore the feel of the warm steel beneath her fingertips, though from the amount of heat she could feel burning her face, she was apparently doing a very poor job of it. Which frustrated her to no end. It was a muscular male body, for Hyne’s sake, nothing she hadn’t seen before in large supply here at Garden. And it was Seifer’s body to boot, so what was the big deal?
And why did she keep looking at that damned Firecross tattoo, and wondering just how far down it went?
Seifer remained strangely quiet and withdrawn throughout the procedure, obviously deep into his own thoughts, whatever they might be. He did growl a bit in protest when she began pressing a potion and antidote soaked swath of gauze to his cleaned cuts, prepping them for bandaging. There were only a few that would have to have stitches; most of them would bond well on their own so long as he took it easy for the next couple of days.
Quistis quickly swabbed a cut that neared the edge of that maddening sheet, but didn’t dare pull it away to check for others. She straightened, then turned when she could’ve sworn she heard him mutter, “coward.” Yet his face was as impassive as ever, green eyes guarded. Flustered and hating it, Quistis quickly set the potion aside, tossing the bloody gauze into the biohazard trashcan near-by, then reached for the rolls of gauze and tape.
“So,” he suddenly murmured, deep voice startling her a little and causing her to tense. A reaction Quistis was neither comfortable with, nor pleased about. “What ever happened with the whole . . . you and Squall thing?” he finished after a moment, tone flat.
Her head jerked up to meet his gaze, brow knitted. Where in the world had that come from?
“Squall and . . . what are you talking about?” she sputtered, aghast. He sneered.
“You know what I mean. You were always following him around like a bitch in heat back in the old days,” he pronounced, his crude terminology grating on her nerves. Though not half so much as the knowledge that he was sadly not far from the mark. “Anything ever come of that?”
“Not that my personal life is in any way any of your business,” she began, tone brittle with disapproval and not a little embarrassment, “but no, Squall and I were never involved romantically. He was never interested, and I realized soon after that my brief infatuation was nothing more than old feelings confused from our days at the orphanage. Nothing more. He has Rinoa, now.”
Quistis did her best to ignore the hurt, hollow ring in her voice, bandaging up the smaller wounds on Seifer’s chest and arms with a quick efficiency. She suddenly wanted very much to be out of this room.
“He has Rinoa,” Seifer parroted softly, and something in the sound of his voice suddenly made her very aware of the fact that she stood very close to him, between his bent knees. He only had to lean forward just a little and his face would be buried in her neck. Why was her breath so short all of a sudden, her knees feeling strangely weak and jittery . . . “Squall has Rinoa,” he repeated, his deep voice still that strange, low rumble that shivered across her skin like hot velvet. “Who do you have, Trepe?”
She forced herself to swallow the lump lodged in her throat, teeth clenching. “I don’t need nor want a relationship, Almasy,” she announced somewhat stiffly.
“Pity.”
With a wrench, Quistis straightened, her wide eyes centering into his emerald green ones. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, her breath stalled in her chest and a strange tremble of some unnamable emotion shot through her tense frame. What in Hyne’s name had he meant by that? A pity for what? And what did that dark look in those hot green orbs mean exactly? If she didn’t know any better, Quistis could have sworn that he was thinking about kissing her. And if she were just a little less biased on the subject, she could have sworn that the heart-hammering, breathless feeling in her chest was abject anticipation that he might do just that.
Seifer seemed to lean a little closer, then all of a sudden a shadow passed over his eyes, one that looked suspiciously like regret. Then he turned away, face guarded once more.
“You gonna get the hell on with what you’re doing, Instructor, or am I just gonna have to sit here on this cold ass table and freeze to death?” he snarled.
Quistis jerked a little as if he’d struck her. Then she scowled. What on Gaea had she been thinking? Seifer? Wanting to kiss her? Hah! When Geezards sprouted wings and flew!
She quickly finished bandaging up what she could, then tossed the last of the bloody gauze into the garbage.
“Dr. Kadowaki will be in shortly to finish up,” she murmured, tone icy and sharp. “I’ll expect you in the Library tomorrow at 7 A.M, as we still have a lot to go over before the Written Exam next week. Try not to get yourself killed on any more training accidents from now till then.”
She turned for the door, ignoring his foul-tempered mutters. Just before the door closed she turned back, pinning him with a narrow-eyed stare. “And don’t call me Instructor.”
The door shut with a final click, cutting off whatever reply that had sprung to his lips.
He’d really done a number on himself with this one, and the stern disapproval on Dr. Kadowaki’s face told the tale quite eloquently.
She made a few last notations on her clipboard, then hung it on the peg at the foot of the bed. She stuffed her fists into the pockets of her white lab coat and sighed. “I want you to stay here overnight for observation, Commander. Then you’re on light duty only for the next month.” Squall winced, but she wasn’t through yet. “No casting whatsoever until I give you clearance. Not even so much as a Scan spell, understood?” At Squall’s sour look she sighed. “You could’ve very well died tonight, Squall. I swear I’ve never seen poison counts so high in a human before. You’ll be very lucky if you didn’t fry the nodes in your brain completely.”
Squall scowled at those last remarks, not liking the way they made Rinoa’s face pale further. The doctor sighed, impervious to his glowers, and headed for the door.
“Try to get some rest, both of you. I’ll be back in the morning to run some more tests.”
Before she left Kadowaki shut off the overhead light, so that the only illumination in the room came from the softer lights near the cabinets. That went a long way to easing the queasy feeling in his head.
Rinoa sighed, her head pillowing on his shoulder while she continued to run her fingers through his hair.
“You just love scaring me to death, don’t you,” she murmured after a moment, tone forcefully light. That caused him to snort a little, a brief smile lifting his lips before falling again. “I swear sometimes you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” she continued playfully. “One of these days I’m just going to drop you like a bad habit and give into Irvine’s constant flirting.”
That made him grin. “Yeah,” he murmured, “you do that. Then see how fast Selphie strangles you both with Strange Vision.”
Rinoa laughed and started to respond, then tensed, head raising and staring at the opposite wall. Squall turned to see what had caught her attention, and did so just in time to see the wall begin to ripple, heralding Edea’s appearance. She was dressed now in a robe similar to Rinoa, and came to sit in the chair opposite her younger counterpart.
“How much do you think he remembers?” Squall questioned without preamble. Edea shook her head, long black hair rustling.
“Of what was said? Nothing. To him, he blacked out soon after your first casting and then came awake after I had left.”
“What happened exactly?” Rinoa questioned, and Squall quickly filled her in. She looked stricken by the end, brown eyes wide.
“Did . . . did you get rid of it?” the younger Sorceress murmured, but Edea shook her head, face pained.
“No, nothing can rid Seifer’s body of Ultimecia’s taint, save the healing bond of another.”
“Who is she, Matron?” Squall demanded then, having put two and two together on his own. Edea wasn’t speaking in terms of possibilities; she was speaking in terms of eventualities. That meant that there was another Sorceress in their midst. And Squall himself had his own suspicions as to who that might be. He wanted it confirmed however. Edea turned to him, smiling.
“A Sorceress isn’t made, she is born. The same can be said of a Knight, as well. The paths of our lives are predestined from the beginning, we have only to choose which one to walk. Seifer was born to be a Knight, Squall, just as you were. Knights are drawn to Sorceresses, and vice versa, like two halves of a whole. One of the reasons why you were both so taken with Ellone as children, always fighting each other for her attention,” Edea murmured with a soft smile, her eyes alight with happier memories for once rather than darkened in shadows. “It also explains why Seifer and Rinoa were drawn to each other that summer in Timber, even though they would never suit each other as a true mates. After they realized this, they soon parted ways again. Initially, this uncontrollable connection is why you yourself were drawn to Rinoa upon your first meeting at the SeeD graduation ball. Unlike Seifer however, you were Rinoa’s true partner. As evidenced by the mark on your chest after she gave you her bond.”
Squall sat very still, eyes widened. There was only one other female he could think of that had ever seemed almost blindly drawn to him, even though the idea of them as a couple was completely and totally absurd.
“Does she—,”
“No,” Edea interrupted quickly, shaking her head. “She has not yet realized what her abilities mean, and much of her powers remain locked in the subconscious area of her mind. There is a trauma there, and darkness that I would not force her to remember unless absolutely necessary.”
“How long have you known?” Rinoa questioned and Edea sighed once again.
“From the beginning, but her situation is . . . unique. Unless the fates deem it otherwise, her powers will remain hidden. Unveiling her memories and her power could very well shatter her completely, not to mention what the knowledge will do to him. They are both broken, my children, the edges of their souls tattered and torn, worn and weary. I fear for them, Squall,” she revealed, eyes tearing. “I fear for them greatly.”
“Does Cid know,” he asked after a moment, and Edea nodded.
“Yes. He agrees that we should keep this knowledge a secret unless the situation is dire.” There was a slight pause, and then Edea cleared her throat and seemed to reach for some level of normalcy.
“What news from Esthar?” Squall sighed.
Esthar had been having a rash of terrorists pop up in the city, all seemingly gunning for Dr. Odine’s Labs and other places of magical research. Officially, those were the only casualties. Unofficially, the terrorist groups were also hell-bent on assassinating Ellone. For the time being she was remaining in the Presidential Palace with Laguna, Kiros, Ward and her Knight, a quiet man by the name of Kane Highwind. So far Kane had been able to stall the attempts, but they were becoming less of a nuisance and more of a serious problem by the day.
He had sent Fujin and Raijin to see what they could ferret out. They had managed to quell several cells, but Esthar was too large of a city for two SeeDs to police alone. Squall had told Laguna that until the reason for the sudden animosity against Ellone was discovered and the source quelled, she wasn’t safe in Esthar. So far his opinion had been largely ignored.
“The President is reluctant to give up his daughter,” Squall revealed tightly. Rinoa rolled her eyes, but said nothing of his refusal to call Laguna “father.” It was still somewhat of a sore subject with him.
“I suspect it also has a great deal to do with the fact that Kane is reluctant to admit that he is incapable of protecting her on his own,” Edea inserted gently with a faint, knowing smirk, then shook her head and stood. “Well, I am off to bed. Rest, children. The light of morning will soon be along to chase the shadows of night away.”
Squall smiled faintly, remembering her words from when he was a child. It brought him comfort then, and strangely did so now as well. His eyes drifted shut, and before he knew it, dreams had claimed him.
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