A/N: It's not dead! Heh. I'll be surprised yet again if people are still reading this. I haven't updated in forever but I don't think this story will be abandoned since I love it too much; updates will just be very few and far between. I recently made a cross-country move and I'm getting ready to make another one in a few weeks, so life has been pretty hectic.

To everyone who has stuck with the story this far: I love you, and enjoy. :p

Apply standard disclaimers here.

- DEUS EX MACHINA (by Raven Minamino a.k.a. Kuroya) ((Written: 2/09/07 Published: 1/02/08)) -

Chapter Six: Epiphany

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Adoramuste sat with her long legs propped up on her desk, reclining in the comfortable squishy chair the Osenians had provided her with. Here in Alhafra, she was both a scientist and strategist, deeply concerned for the fate of Weyard after the lighting. She had played her part well: indignant that the Angarans were closed-minded enough to keep the ruins of their Sol Sanctum from scientists like herself, who had every right to study alchemy there. She dropped a word here and there to receptive ears that not only was Angara determined to keep its secrets (the way only a barbaric and nationalistic society would), but it desired the secrets of Indra and Osenia as well. The Shrine of the Sea God, Air's Rock; she had convinced those in power that Angaran scientists were deeply interested in these as well.

Mt. Aleph, of course, was a subject of international importance after the rise of the Golden Sun, and humanity as a whole would benefit from its study. Air's Rock and The Shrine of the Sea God were ancient and deeply religious places whose secrets were already known. With her great command of language, she convinced all those that mattered that Angara's position on the matter was absurd and selfish. Gradually, she even managed to sway those who had long been Angara's allies. The country's refusal to let the most important landmark of the time be studied was not only shortsighted, she argued, but an outright act of shunning and slighting its neighbors.

It helped that much of her work had been done for her when she arrived; many of the nation's top scientists were in an uproar, finding that they were not even allowed to catch a glimpse of Mt. Aleph's ruins. The Valean elders had declared that it was a sacred place, meant only for those with Psynergetic blood. They insisted that the Wise One had told the Elder personally that no one but those of Vale were to study or dwell in the ruins. No one from out of Angara was permitted to so much as lift a stone, while those from the neighboring towns helped excavate Vale. The capital city of Tolbi insisted that there was nothing they could do. The Valean's beliefs were honored by their government.

Normally, the countries might have been able to negotiate a compromise, therefore avoiding the spread of discontent- and rumors that Angara was at odds with the rest of the world, ready to fight for its beliefs at the slightest provocation.

But Adoramuste knew, better than most, and perhaps even better than any, how much one woman could do. She had put herself in a position of power and repute, said just the right things, humbled at the right moments, and made herself seen and heard by those that mattered. Soon Alhafra had invited her to stay at their research institute, and here she had continued to climb the political ladder, letting slip that she was considered a great strategist in her home country (though she never mentioned a name).

If all went well, and she had no doubts that it would, Osenia and Indra would solidify their alliance the next day, and soon after, both would be ready for war.

She smiled at this thought, inspecting her overly long nails in the light from the fireplace. As a person of great importance, she had earned the right to a lavish guest room complete with its own adjoining study, which she had humbly accepted with a great show of thanks. She was very careful to seem like nothing but a peaceful scientist, who would have delighted in negotiations if they were at all possible.

Humans, she thought viciously, are so easy to manipulate when confronted with anything new. They swarm around their leaders like dogs to a man, sniffing about stupidly and asking where they should go, what they should do.

And she, of course, had no qualms about being the leader, the huntress. With Osenia and Indra joined as one, she could easily lead them into battle and strike down Angara, taking control of Vale and the ruins. From there, she would grow stronger, build her army, and eventually take down her brother.

These thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at the door; hastily, Adoramuste slid her legs back beneath the desk, returning her attention to the stacks of papers, quills, inkwells, and thick books that lay strewn across it.

"Come in," She called courteously, a smile coloring features that had a moment ago been filled with hatred.

A short, portly man stepped into the room, clad in a servant's robe. He bowed respectfully, polite but not groveling. "The mayor and his advisors wish to see you, lady."

"Of course." She stood at once, shuffling the stacks of papers on her desk into some semblance of order. "Tell him, if you please, that I will be there within ten minutes. I have some papers to finish." This was not completely true, but she had learned early on that it was best to make people wait; not too long, but just long enough to appreciate how very busy she was with matters of great importance.

"Very well. I will relay the message." The servant hurried off, effacing himself so effectively that she barely even noticed him leaving. Slowly, she let her polite smile slide off her features and glared into the fire. Of course, it all came back to him. That liar, that traitor, that- that murderer. He had no right to mess with her creations. She would show him, of course, who the real leader was. What powers she did not yet have, she would take, by force if necessary. What knowledge she did not yet have, she would gain- eventually. Pride and indignation returned to her some of the strength that she had lost when she had been sealed away (for so long, so long).

She knew, of course, which pawns she would need to use, which people she would need to manipulate, to make this all possible. It helped that though her brother was in many ways her equal, he often failed to give her credit where credit was due, and this had turned out to be a dangerous flaw in the past. Perhaps she could again exploit this weakness...

These and many other things fluttering about her mind like mosquitoes eager for blood, she left her study, prepared to meet with the mayor of Alhafra. Truly, the time had come for her to reign as she had in times past- as Fate herself had intended.

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"This is crazy," Jenna said flatly with a shake of her fiery hair. "I think you're just imaging things. I mean, come on, mind demons?"

"Evertos, they were called," Mia corrected absently, staring into her empty tea cup as if entranced. "And if I was imagining things, then I guess Sheba and Ivan were too."

Sheba nodded. "We did all see the same things. I suppose it's possible that it was all a figment of one of our imaginations, but... It seemed too real."

"And this woman, Adoramuste," Piers cut in, "None of you had seen her before?"

Slowly, Ivan, Mia, and Sheba all shook their heads, tossing sidelong glances at each other for confirmation.

"Well, it's certainly beyond my ability to explain," The Lemurian continued after a brief pause, "So I think we will have to trust you for now. What did Adoramuste say about the Evertos? Did she mention any way of getting rid of them?"

"Not in so many words," Mia replied. "She said that she could have removed them, or another 'Great One'- whatever she meant by that- could have, or Isaac himself could have if his mind hadn't been so damaged. But she didn't say how it could be done."

"Hmm. I see."

Several moments passed in silence, all of the adepts seemingly absorbed in their tea cups and empty dinner plates. The inn was mostly empty now, many of its guests having retired to their rooms. Dinner had been a large and lively affair, gossip flowing like wildfire now that the news of Osenia and Indra had spread. It seemed that everyone had an opinion or hypothesis on how this new situation would be resolved, and everyone had wanted to voice their own thoughts. Dinner usually lasted no longer than forty-five minutes, but tonight the eating, drinking, and conversation had continued long into the hours of the evening. Most were worried and distraught at the news, but that did nothing to dim the aura of excitement that had permeated the villagers.

Felix felt the lines of a frown beginning to form in his brow, but ignored the feeling, concentrating instead of the even more interesting news of what had happened to Ivan, Mia, and Sheba. Unfortunately, he felt, Isaac had contributed little, rarely speaking more tan a few words at a time. He had seemed even more introverted than usual, avoiding everyone's gazes and making monosyllabic replies whenever possible.

Mia, Felix thought, had seemed rather distraught at this, but voiced her concerns through body language rather than verbal accusations. He thought she was worried about him, and he couldn't blame her. Everyone was at least slightly anxious about Isaac now, with these new developments on top of his strange behavior lingering unspoken over the conversation.

Their uneasy silence slowly began to turn into drowsiness. The last few late-dining guests were polishing off their food and drink and heading upstairs, while the innkeeper and his wife quietly cleaned up after them. Many of the torches were extinguished, leaving their large group in semi darkness. Felix found himself nearly drowsing off despite himself (it had been a very long day, after all), when he and his companions were startled by a loud knocking at the door.

The innkeeper's wife let out a surprised squeal and dropped the dinner plate she had been holding, which shattered into pieces across the floor. The innkeeper swore softly and crossed the room in several strides to wrench the door open, perhaps expecting some late guest. What he saw, however, left him dumbstruck, moving his mouth open and closed without forming any sound. His face grew steadily paler, even in the dim light, and he let his arms fall to his sides, shaking slightly.

Felix himself was convinced for a few moments that he had indeed dozed off, and was dreaming these visitors. He firmly believed that once dead, people did not come back to life. It was this philosophy, along with his theory that worrying was useless, that had helped him move on after the deaths of his parents. Therefore, he did not feel shock or disbelief as he otherwise might have, but a calm sort of acceptance that these kinds of dreams were inevitable.

His reaction was apparently not shared by the rest of the adepts, though. Jenna was staring at the three figures, mouth open and eyes slightly unfocused. Mia was making noises in her throat like an angry cat, her fingernails gripping the edge of the table until they began to dig into the wood. Isaac had stood the instant the knocking had sounded, and was now standing with one hand on the hilt of his sword (a replacement that one of the visitors from Kalay had lent him), a serene expression across his features. Garet stood next to Isaac, glancing between him and the visitors, looking awestruck. The other adepts showed similar reactions, but no one moved or spoke for several very long moments.

It was in those moments that Felix finally realized that he was not dreaming. This situation was glaringly lacking in that familiar soft quality that dreams often bore. Not to mention it was so desperately unlikely that he doubted even his creative subconscious could dream it up. He dreamed about Saturos, Menardi, and Alex, yes, but never like this. Not even close.

This realization caused him to start out his chair, this starting a chain reaction among his companions. Mia and Piers rose at the same time, closely followed by Sheba, Ivan, and Jenna. Still, it was the innkeeper who first broke the silence.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" He demanded, raising his fists at the visitors. Felix could hardly blame him, as they made quite a picture: three rain- and mud-beaten people (though even such a general term as person seemed almost unfitting in the state they were in), clothes torn and hair disheveled. The third visitor, though, was enough to make the other two seem positively normal. He was halfway slumped over on the floor, held up only by one of the other visitors, who was gripping his wrist to keep him from collapsing. Attached to his back were strange mud-splattered structures, which undeniably resembled wings. They seemed to be scrunched up to less than half of their full length at the moment, but his companions seemed to be having some trouble dragging him through the doorway nonetheless.

The conscious man, looking irritated and bad-tempered through the mud that covered half his face, shoved the innkeeper aside so hard that he fell back against the door, spluttering indignantly but too afraid to attempt to get back up. He glared around the room, his gaze finding Felix's and boring into him.

Instantly, as if the man's eyes had compelled him into motion, the Venus adept strode across the room, the sound of his boots on the wooden floor eerily loud in the silence. The innkeeper's wife whimpered as he drew near, her eyes wide and fearful. He passed her without a second glance, stopping only when he stood directly in front of the man he now recognized as Saturos. He took in his decrepit appearance, heavy breathing, and clenched fists, and wordlessly extended his hand.

Saturos raised an incredulous brow, his stance conveying just a small amount of mocking. After a few seconds, however, he took his hand and shook it. It was cold and clammy, but his grip was tight and sure. Felix felt his lips twitch slightly in what might have become a smile if the circumstances hadn't been so severe.

Menardi looked him over as if he were the one who looked as if he'd just survived a typhoon, arching one brow in an expression that mirrored Saturos's. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked haughtily away, clearly not quite ready to be reunited with the man she had treated as part traveling companion, part servant in their journey together. Perhaps she still thought him as somewhat inferior. Perhaps she was simply angry that he had defied her atop Venus Lighthouse. There was no time to dwell on this, however; even as his thoughts raced, Felix felt his friends gathering behind him, Isaac and Garet in the fore.

"What is the meaning of this?" As leader, it was Isaac who spoke first, and his voice was strained, echoing softly throughout the large, near-empty room.

Saturos slowly shrugged, the gesture eloquent in its simplicity. "I assure you, we know as little as you do."

Felix had to keep himself from starting at the sound of his voice. It was raspy and dry, as if from disuse, and sounded little like the Saturos he had known for years. The shock of this, somehow, seemed even more startling than everything else, including their appearance and Alex's... Predicament. For the first time, he took a good look at the unconscious man, still held up by his companions. He looked pale and ill, his chest still from the absence of breath. Clearly, he was dead.

As he took this in, he felt his lungs constricting. Alex, dead? Now this was... This was... Different. Not right, somehow.

Moving slowly, as if any sudden movement might startle those around him into rash actions, he knelt in front of the Mercury adept, placing one hand over his free wrist and feeling for a pulse. There was none.

"What... Happened?" He managed to speak, though he felt that his words might never find the ears of those who would listen, swallowed instead by the walls that seemed to be closing in, drawing him into himself, closer and closer...

He shook himself to shake these strange feelings and to his surprise, it was Menardi who responded first, in the form of a brief shake of her head. "We found him," She said shortly, "In the ruins of what must be Mt. Aleph. He's... Not dead, as far as we can tell, but not alive either." Hastily, as if realizing she had nearly voiced concern, she looked away and thinned her lips. "Not that I care."

Saturos continued, "We... Came to... Buried in the ruins. I don't know how. We dug ourselves out, and he found us. He seemed delusional, spoke to us briefly, and then collapsed. We have no idea what happened." His gaze flickered among the adepts gathered before him, something in those stormy eyes challenging, as if daring one of them to disagree. "We had hoped a healer might help him."

Mia stepped forward to stand next to Isaac, her gaze fiercely impassive as she looked down at her former friend. "May I... See him?" She asked, her voice slightly tremulous. She looked up to Saturos for permission, which Menardi seemed to resent, as she looked away and gave what was unmistakably a derisive snort.

Saturos ignored her, however, and nodded at Mia, dragging Alex through the inn's doorway (turning him sideways so his wings would fit) and drawing the door closed behind him.

Mia took a few more small steps forward, kneeling next to Felix. He scooted to the side to give her some space, unpleasantly aware that he alone out of all of his friends had once allied himself with these people. Jenna, Sheba, and Kraden had been involved, yes, but they had been more prisoners than comrades. Felix had openly allied himself with Saturos, Menardi, and Alex, fighting alongside them and only defying them when it came to those people that mattered, like his family and Sheba. Even though these once villains were now seen as being in the right, he still couldn't help but feel that his friends now viewed him with hostility. His three years in Prox seemed sharper and clearer than ever, the gap between him and the others a burning fear in his chest.

He had done what was right, regardless of the sacrifices it entailed. Saturos and Menardi were martyrs- or rather, they had been, or might have been, martyrs- in the eyes of many, but they remained villains in the eyes of others. He just hoped that his companions were not still among the others.

Now uncomfortable at his current position kneeling before the newcomers, he stood and turned to put his back against the wall (and the innkeeper, who was alternately cursing and praying under his breath), facing both Saturos and Menardi and the other adepts. Mia was frowning as she inspected Alex, running her hands over his arms, his chest, and, hesitantly, his wings.

"I think you're right," She announced at last. "He's not breathing, and his heart's not beating, but he seems not to be dead. His body is warm. It is... Preserved, somehow." She gestured towards his wings and again looked towards Saturos for confirmation. "You don't know... How these might have happened?"

The swordsman, who was now leaning against the door with a casual manner, as if the outcome of this encounter mattered little, raised a brow at her. "I've told you, have I not, that we know as little as you do?"

"Well, yes," She murmured, lowering her gaze. "I just hoped..." Distracted, her words trailed off, and she returned to her inspection of Alex, biting her lips as she continued to search for a pulse that refused to be found.

"Now wait a minute here!" Felix really did start as this voice made itself heard, frowning as his eyes found Garet, who was standing with one hand on the hilt of his sword and an accusing finger pointed at Saturos. "This guy tried to kill us! He tried to kill lots of other people, too, when he was trying to light the lighthouses! Even if that was a good thing- the lighting, I mean- he and Menardi still used the ends to justify the means! And we're going to- to- let them in this town, and help him and Alex, who might have tried to kill us too?" He stared around at his friends as if they had all gone insane. "How do we know they're not gonna go kill other people after we help them?"

Felix- and many of the others, he noticed- couldn't help but stare back at Garet. Partially they were slightly surprised at his small speech, and partially it seemed that his voice brought sanity back into their world, making them grasp the fact that yes, this was all really happening.

"He has a point, I suppose," Jenna said thoughtfully, frowning at Menardi. "You could've always just told Isaac and everyone why you were lighting the lighthouses, instead of trying to kill him. Could you blame him for thinking you were evil, after the way you acted?"

Menardi, taking offense at this, drew herself up to her full height and glared at her. "Like he would have believed us even if we tried to explain? You just contradicted yourself, girl. If he thought we were so evil, then why would he believe us if we told him why we were doing what we did? He would've thought it some excuse to stop him from following us and getting in our way." She said this last between gritted teeth, as if the memory of this still made her want to scream and throw things.

"But still!" Jenna threw up her hands in exasperation. "You could have made some attempt, you never know, you might have gotten through-"

"Don't speak about things you know nothing about!" Menardi hissed, her eyes now narrowed in barely concealed rage. "You saw what we did, the sacrifices we made, for Prox! You don't know anything about what we went through! Don't even suggest that our deaths were in vain!"

Sensing that Menardi was nearing the edge of her rather thin temper, Saturos placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" He said reasonably. "That's all in the past. We had hoped-" And the condescending glance he sent in Garet's direction made it clear that he thought his hopes had been misplaced- "That you might be able to move on, and at least accept that we did the right thing."

"The right thing?" Garet asked incredulously. "You murdered all those people, nearly killed us, and you call that the right thing? Are you crazy? Was all that worth Prox?"

"Yes," Came the firm answer, and Saturos's clenched fist gave testament to the fact that his own temper was waning. "Prox would be worth any price."

Garet opened his mouth to voice a retort, but Piers stepped forward, cutting him off. "That doesn't matter now," He said tiredly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the tension. "What matters now is that Alex needs help. We'll have to accept the fact that Saturos and Menardi did what they thought was right, though that may conflict with what we think is right. If they are willing to compromise and refrain from violence, then we should give them what aid we can."

"I agree," Sheba nodded, a thoughtful frown stretching across her countenance. "Whatever evil they might have done, they need help now. Besides, we're stronger. If they get violent, we can always restrain them."

There was a murmur of assent among the others, including Jenna and a rather reluctant Garet.

"Yes," said Isaac softly, his eyes never leaving Alex's face. "They need our help, so we should help them. Piers, could you give Mia a hand?"

The Lemurian nodded and knelt next to the aforementioned healer, who was now trying to cast Ply, to no avail. He added his power to hers, and a soft blue glow surrounded the trio, which added an almost unearthly feel to the room, especially considering Alex's wings.

After this had gone on for a while and no results had been reached, Felix turned his attention to the innkeeper. He was still laying in an ungainly position on the floor, though his wife had joined him and he now seemed much calmer. He was obviously afraid, but under the impression that the adepts were in control of the situation.

"It's alright, they mean no harm," Felix assured him softly, helping him up. "We'll take care of it."

The innkeeper gave a wobbly shake of his head and took his wife by the hand. They hurried to the other side of the room, as far away from the small crowd as possible, and watched them through wide eyes.

Felix shook his head and returned to leaning against the wall, unconsciously mirroring Saturos's position as he sunk into thought. Alex had always been distant from everyone, and though he had traveled with Saturos and Menardi for the most part, it had not been uncommon for him to disappear for days at a time on some mysterious business of his own. When asked, he had said that he had simply needed "time away". Maybe he had been a good, honest man at heart. Maybe he hadn't been. It was hard to tell in someone whose motivations had rarely, if ever, been very clear, and whose true thoughts and beliefs were as shrouded as the sky on a stormy day.

Alex was the kind of person who existed in many forms and many layers to many different people. To Mia, he had been a childhood friend, an apprentice, a healer. To Felix he had been a comrade, a visionary, a warrior. To Saturos and Menardi he had been an ally, even perhaps a tool. To Karst and Agatio he had been a puppeteer, guiding them like a master under the guise of alliance.

To Jenna he had been an annoyance, but also a sympathetic ear, for he had proved himself more than able to listen and give good advice. Against her better judgment, Jenna had often confided in him: her fears, her regrets, her sorrows. One of the things that made Alex so dangerous, Felix thought, was his ability to make people trust him and talk to him. He could get almost anything out of almost anyone if given enough time. But as far as he knew, Jenna's own personal demons had not been used against her, which was almost surprising. If nothing else, Alex was manipulative. That was one of very few traits that Felix could be sure he possessed.

Sometimes he wished he could have known the man better, but then he would come to his senses and recognize that no one could know him. Just when one became familiar with one of his many layers, another layer would be exposed, and another, and so on and so forth; different people with different motivations, different personalities and dreams.

Well, perhaps he was giving Alex too much credit. Perhaps he was not many people, but one, and the difference was simply in how he was perceived. Perhaps underneath his masks of deception there was a person, single and whole and human. Surely Alex, despite his faults, was no less human than the rest of them. Not that he'd ever admit it, of course.

Felix was jarred abruptly from his musings by a shout of surprise and triumph, and several following exclamations. Mia and Piers were backing away from their charge, who was still glowing with a soft psynergetic light, which made him seem less like a human and more like some denizen of the Gods- an angel, perhaps. At first he was confused as to the source of all the activity, but then he realized that Alex's eyes were open. He was breathing. He was alive.

The Mercury adept moved a hand in front of his face, flexed it, and raised his eyebrows slightly at this success. His eyes searched his immediate surroundings, and it seemed to be Mia that he first saw, for he gave a startled sort of sound and scrambled backwards, standing so abruptly that he had to steady himself by grabbing onto the door behind him, breathing heavily. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow, and Felix understood with some bewilderment that he had overexerted himself. This should not have come as a shock, as for all intents and purposes he had been revived from near death, but it was still startling to see Alex- Alex of all people- struggling for breath.

Alex scanned the room again, his eyes widening as he took in their full group, scrutinizing Saturos and Menardi as if unsure that they were real. "You." He managed to speak one word, the sound a curse from his lips. He raised one finger, trembling but sure, and pointed directly at Isaac. "You!" He cried, and this time it was not a curse but a promised threat, the word strangled with what could have been rage.

"You... are... You are..."

"I am?" Isaac challenged, and Felix could see that he had tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

"You are... You have... You have what I need... What I..."

He was clearly delusional, Felix decided, taking into account his accusatory stare and nonsensical words. Perhaps being dead had done something to his head, for this Alex was nothing like the Alex he had once known. This Alex was angry and afraid, emotions that the real Alex never would have dared show. This Alex was a fake, a replacement, a dead man walking...

Isaac stared hard at the winged man. His hand twitched, but he did not draw his sword, nor did he step forward to start a confrontation. "What do you mean?" He asked coolly, his tone disinterested.

"No... You don't understand... I need... I need..." He slumped to the floor once again, apparently exhausted from his effort to stand, though his gaze never wavered from Isaac's face. His countenance was etched deeply and cruelly with an unmistakable hatred. "...Need..."

And then he collapsed again, his expression relaxing into one of impassive innocence. Mia and Piers rushed forward, but it was soon clear that he was only sleeping; exhausted, perhaps, by his revival.

"How did you revive him?" Felix asked at once, kneeling next to the healers and frowning at Alex's crumpled form.

Mia spread her hands, palm-up, and shrugged. "We tried douse. I have no idea why, but we tried everything else... And somehow, I think it worked." She frowned. "I don't see how it's possible for his body to have been preserved, but it was. I also don't see how it was possible that a simple douse awakened him where nothing else would, but..."

"But relatively impossible things have been happening often, it seems," Piers picked up the conversation after she trailed off, tossing a meaningful glance at Menardi. "Perhaps once Alex is conscious and in his right mind again, he can explain a few things for us."

Privately, Felix had his doubts about that, but he nodded anyway. "I hope so."

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Alex wasn't precisely sure how it had happened, but he knew that the beginnings of his plan were already coming to fruition. He was with Isaac and his motley crew of followers, which was highly convenient. If he could simply stay here with them, thinking of some excuse why he could not go on his own way, then he would have plenty of time to plan further.

His ultimate goal, of course, was to defeat Isaac and regain the rest of the golden sun's power. This couldn't possibly be too difficult; even if Isaac really did hold such massive power, he was relatively untrained. Alex felt sure that he would have no idea how to access his power and use it in the manner he intended. Though the longer he waited, the more time Isaac would have to familiarize himself with his new power, and the more dangerous he would become. It was in Alex's best interest to defeat him as soon as possible.

The only problem was that, much as he hated to admit it, Alex was unfamiliar with the nature of his own power. He had not yet had the opportunity to test it. He could only hope that he would gain that opportunity within the next few days.

It was also a problem, and a rather frustrating one at that, that he was not yet strong enough physically to stay awake for longer than a few hours or cross a room on his own two feet. He supposed that this was to be expected after his traitorous body had mysteriously given out on him. He was glad- though he would never admit how glad- that Saturos and Menardi had brought him to people capable of helping him. He wasn't entirely sure how Mia had managed to revive him, but he felt an inexplicable certainty that only a Mercury adept could have helped him.

Hopefully he would grow strong enough and confident enough in his own power within the next few days that he would be able to defeat Isaac. That he was surrounded by his friends was of no consequence; his power of persuasion could easily get Isaac on his own. And then... Well, then Weyard would finally see his strength. What he would do with it, he wasn't really sure. There were so many mind-boggling possibilities.

With the aid of the golden sun, he could not only play God, he could be God. If there was a God, the full power of the golden sun was such that he could defeat that God and take his place. It was not called limitless power for nothing.

If there was indeed a God, Alex felt that abolishing him would be his first course of action. The idea of some omnipresent, all-powerful being had always made him uncomfortable, even as a child. If this God guided the actions of all humans, as the Imilians had taught, then his freedom of choice meant nothing. If some being held Fate in his hands and made every human do as that Fate dictated, then was not all life meaningless? Were not all beings simply pawns to be used and discarded?

If there was a power of Fate or God, then Alex would destroy it. He would let humans find their own way in life, rather than have their actions dictated by some unseeable force. He would become God but disregard that power called Fate. He would free all of humanity from its chains- and kill that damned "Wise One" while he was at it.

And if the Wise One was God? The idea was laughable, but also plausible. Well, if he was, then Alex's course of action was the same. He would find and kill that rock, and strip away his idiotic ideals and plans. He would not be used. He refused to be a puppet, especially of this Wise One. He would not succumb to him. He, Alex, would be Weyard's only God and ruler.

That he had finally attained his lifelong dream of immortality was most useful. In this way he could keep any new Gods from rising up and harnessing humanity to their will.

And as for Vale... He would see to it that such towns were destroyed and never rebuilt, that such archaic thinking was forever discarded. He toyed with the idea of destroying Imil as well, but eventually dropped it. Even if Imil was permeated by such archaic thoughts, it was his hometown, and something in him twinged at the idea of seeing it demolished. It would stay, much as he hated to admit it.

The future stretched out before him in many intertwining paths, and he believed that all of these paths would lead him to his goals. How could they not? There was no one left to defeat him now, no one left to be his voice of reason, no one left to control him and reign him in. He was free to choose his own path, and eagerly anticipated where it would take him: to places unknown by every other human, to places unexplored and paths untrodden.

Yes. He was the only being for millenia, and perhaps in all of time and eternity, to transcend the boundary that existed between God and man. His dream had been fulfilled... And he was not going to die.

He was not going to die. Ever.

He'd show them, those doctors, those healers, those fumbling idiots... They'd given him two years to live, maybe less. And now look at him! He was ageless and all-powerful! He would never succumb to such human weaknesses as illness and death. Never again.

And he told himself that he was not afraid of death, so it didn't matter anyway, and he was wasting his time thinking about it. He told himself that he was not afraid of what was to come, because now the future could only hold hope.

But deep inside, he also feared that he was wrong, though this was a soft voice that he quickly smothered. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. Not now, not ever.

He was free.

xxxx

A/N: Gah. I apologize for that hopelessly long and incoherent block of text. If you are still sitting at your computer reading this, and not huddled on the floor in the fetal position, as I was tempted to do while writing this, then you have my congratulations.