I am extremely tardy though with uploading this! Over the last eight months my creative energies have been largely diverted to other pursuits, namely songwriting being the big one. My band recently put out a demo, which basically presents the culmination of two year's worth of writing and to be honest I was left feeling a little burnt out; I always intended to return to this but I was also taking my time to actually nut out exactly how the details would fall into place everywhere.

Now that I have a good grasp on how I am to resolve things, finally, well... this would normally be the part where I say something like, "future chapters will be coming out faster now as I start tying up all the loose ends and coming towards the climax and conclusion." But, you know me. And yes, everything's very dark at the moment - what can I say? Things could still turn around, and there's still a few surprises in store.

If you've made it to this stage in the story, you're one of a very small group of individuals and you have my total respect and adoration. Thank you!

-= Divided We Stand =-

I. Crystal Clear

"Gone."

"Yes, sir."

"Where?"

"We don't know, sir. We think we've caught a trail going north. It seems they left during the night. They left commanders in place to report in saying the situation was normal. Once you began your address, they disappeared."

Griff looked at the bottle in his hand, and up at the turtle before him, standing ramrod straight, hands behind her back. A single slither of sweat was running down the side of her forehead.

"What are your orders?" she asked.

"What do they think they are, you dolt?" he snarled, tasting the mead on his breath. "Find them! Send every able-bodied troop out there and tear the goddamned Great Unknown apart until you do!"

"If they've gone AWOL, there's a good chance they've gone rogue. If we find them and they won't respond to our hails—"

"Then waste them!" Griff screamed, making Michele blink. "Nobody deserts this army and lives! You hear me?"

Michele opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again, watching him carefully. "I'd strongly recommend we keep at least three remaining-"

"Fine," Griff growled. "Do whatever. Just make sure those deserters are found. I'll relay the message to Ari that we're handling this. Get out of my face…"

"By your orders, sir." Michele turned on her heel and walked out, closing the door carefully behind her.

As soon as the latch click-clacked into place, Griff unscrewed the lid from his flask, tossed it across the room onto the reflective marble floor and sculled the liquid within until nary a drop remained. He opened the drawer of his desk, pulled out another bottle, this one a half-litre of Southern Vintage 50, and took ten straight mouthfuls before the nausea hit him and he had to sit the bottle down before he dropped it.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the exquisitely decorated ceiling, watching the beams of sunlight starting to blur and split in two before his eyes. "Oh, gods. Oh, gods."

How could everything have fallen apart so fast? In his first day as de facto ruler of Mobius South, things had gone downhill fast. The public's reaction to his speech. The fact that his Queen was now rotting beneath him in the gulag by his own hand. Two fifths of his own forces had just gone missing and he'd just given an order to have them hunted down like dogs before he'd even had the chance to hammer some sense into himself.

"I don't wanna kill anyone," he mumbled, listening to his voice echo through the room. "I don't wanna kill anyone!"

Except, maybe…

He considered opening the window behind him and throwing himself out of it, if only it might help to quell the ringing in his ears. Make it someone else's problem. Gods, why had Nicole thrown it all away like this? Why think that her sacrifice was worth it when she'd be leaving him, of all Mobians, in her stead?

But the spirits coursing through his body were burning the doubts away now, that merciful golden liquid…

The goat breathed in, and held his breath for a moment. And out again. The colour in the room before him returned, and more vivid.

Slouching in his seat, he reached for the computer terminal's keyboard, pulled it towards him, and began writing in the call code for Ari's office in Trema.

He stopped short. No. He will answer the call and find himself speaking with a… drunk. A drunk in charge of Mobius South.

Who else could? He began punching in Chuck's code.

His arm knocked the bottle next to him over, and he lazily watched as the smooth glass shone in the sunlight, rolling to the edge of his desk and over the edge.

Watched it falling through the air, the precious ambrosia within swirling and splashing against the glass, unaware of the fate about to befall it.

The bottle shattered into a hundred shards as it hit the tiles, the smash echoing about the stone walls.

He looked at it for a moment, watching his own reflection looking back in the pool, running lines in between the tiles. He pushed the keyboard away from him. They wouldn't see him like this. No matter what that would mean.

Pushing the chair out from under him, he stumbled towards the door of his office, flicked the dead bolt into place, and lowered himself to the floor, watching the sun set slowly through the window behind his desk.

SCANNING
0 OBJECTS IN SENSOR RANGE

TEMPERATURE: 24 DEG. C
HUMIDITY: 47%

Nicole ran a hand through her hair, carefully folding it over her chest, and stretched out on her bunk. The low hum of the fluorescent light above her and the deep exhale of an air conditioning vent nearby were the only noises.

She closed her eyes, letting her head sink further into the rough pillow she'd been provided, and pulled the rough hessian blanket over herself, smiling as she nuzzled her mouth against it.

Finally.

She could've cared less whether she was sleeping on soft feathers and silk sheets fit for King Max himself or a slab of cement. It was just nice to be off her feet again, and knowing that there was nothing to wake up to. No crises, no accusations, no debates, no speeches, no questions. Just two pieces of bread and a glass of water.

This was it. It was over. She'd given in. Surely, after seven years of the stresses of building a society anew from the ruins of Robotropolis, she'd earned herself a break. It'd felt so long since she'd just had a feeling of time to herself that she wouldn't end up owing somewhere else. Now, she felt like she had all the time in the world.

She thought for a moment what might be coming next. Maybe a trial, if things didn't go well topside. Maybe a lynching. Who knew?

Didn't matter.

"Qui ventum seminat, turbinem metet," she whispered to herself. Someone had taught her that phrase a long time ago. She didn't care to give much thought to the man who'd said it. But the sentiment seemed fitting now, at least in her own mind. She smiled to herself with some amusement.

This is just. As just as it needs to be…

The sound of footsteps came shuffling from above her head, near the door.

SCANNING
1 SUBJECT IN SENSOR RANGE
IDENTIFIED: WALRUS, ROTOR; SPECIES: WALRUS; AFFILIATION: ACORN MONARCHY, TECHNICAL ASSISTANT

Nicole rolled over and looked up at him, propping her chin up on her folded arms. "What time is it, Rotor?"

"Nearly seven in the evening," Rotor said, crossing his arms and resting his generous gait up against the bars of her cell. "Were you trying to sleep? I can come back later."

"Not really trying," Nicole said, yawning. "There's not much else to do in here, as you can well imagine. I'm glad for your company. Something on your mind?"

Rotor sniffed, his whiskers twitching as he did. "I thought I'd better give you the lowdown on what's been going on upstairs."

"It's alright," Nicole said.

"But—"

"Please don't," she said. "It's alright, Rote. I don't care to know. It might not make sense to anyone but me, but I'm content to just let things ride as they will up there. If things change where I might be able to help again, then you can tell me all about it. But until then, I'm enjoying the silence. Please don't break it."

"Okay," Rotor said.

They stopped for a moment, listening to the flow of the air conditioning.

"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" he asked.

Nicole shook her head, and smiled, her eyes glistening emerald green. "Mm-mm."

"I was thinking about the brain dive we did the other day."

"Thinking of giving it another shot?" Nicole asked.

The walrus shook his head. "I'm sorry, Nicole. It'd just be too dangerous. We underestimated there, that's for sure. But…" his dark blue eyes blinked and met hers. "There was something I saw. Only Chuck and I caught it. Some of the images that popped up, they were vague and hard to make out for all the noise… well… if you don't mind me saying, they didn't seem like they were yours. From what we could tell."

A smile trickled onto Nicole's lips, and she stifled a giggle. "Like they weren't mine?"

"Nicole…" Rotor started, twiddling his thumbs. "Before your AI was transmuted into your current brain, you were always just that, right? An AI?"

Her top lip began to curl ever so slightly. "Of course."

"I'm just curious. Have you ever had any strange dreams since you became an android? Like, of places or people that you never met before?"

Nicole's smile was gone now. "No. Never."

More silence.

"I…" Rotor started, "need to get going now. I told Chuck I'd be catching him soon to go over a few things."

Nicole nodded, not getting up. "Alright. Please don't run your selves into the ground, okay?"

"I'll try not to," he chuckled. "You take care, Nicole. I promise we'll get you out of here. Before you know it, we'll have all of this sorted."

She looked at him again and smiled wanly. "No rush."

He started up the stairs quietly, and stopped halfway, turning to look back down at her. Nicole had already curled back up under her blanket, clutching it longingly to her chest, eyes shut tight. It was hard to see in the dim neon gloom, but he could've sworn she was smiling.

Chuck was heading out the door when Rotor entered the hall, at the other end, and began striding over to him as soon as their eyes met. "Rotor! We've got problems!"

Rotor broke into a brisk jog to meet him at the end of the marble hall. "What is it?" he asked, in between laboured breaths.

"Step inside that room and see for yourself," Chuck said, craning his neck to the doorway behind him.

Rotor walked cautiously inside, his heart starting to pound. His jaw dropped open when he finally rounded the corner.

The server cabinet for the city's Primary Communications Relay, the only one capable of boosting audio and visual signals to the extent that they could be sent across the Great Unknown, had been completely gutted: severed patch leads ran left and right, switches seemingly hacked to pieces, hard drives smashed, circuit boards shattered, complex arrays of ribbon leads torn asunder. A single power outlet sparked and crackled with the death rattle of a backup battery on its way to its now-certain doom.

"By the gods," Rotor breathed. "It looks like someone took an angle grinder to the whole lot of it. It'll take months before we can even hope to piece all that back together to the point it'll be working!"

"It gets worse," Chuck said. "I've been in touch with Michele, Griff's aide. Half of our army has gone missing. Someone's making a play, and it ain't the ones at the top."

Rotor began pulling nervously at his whiskers. "If half our army's gone rogue and is on the offensive against Trema, that'll mean they'll see our banner coming over the horizon when they're invaded."

The robot hedgehog nodded. "And now we've got no way of warning Ari about it, or explaining ourselves to him."

Rotor sat down, and glanced at the mangled remnants of the PCR again. "So, we're boned. Where's Griff in all of this?"

"I don't know," Chuck said. "Nobody can get ahold of him..." He stood there for a moment, a dark thought playing across his crimson eyes. "I think we'd better get moving," he said, turning to break into a sprint. "Come on!"

"What?" Rotor hollered after him, lagging behind, heavy and flat-footed. "Get going where?"

Chuck spared a glance over his shoulder at him, eyes glowing. "To get our darned queen back!"

II. Paint the Town Red

The moon hung over the German Shepherd Annabelle's head like a scythe, painting the endless wasteland of the Great Unknown in a dull silver tinge.

Letting the tip of her laser rifle rattle against the floor of the transport, she shuffled in her seat, plucking at the name tag on her uniform. Annabelle "Lawless" Lawless, Private First Class, Third Division, Mobius South. When she'd joined the army, they'd been using deactivated SWATbots for target practice in live fire exercises. The thought of putting her skills to the test on living, breathing Mobians put something of a damper on her heart – even if those Mobians were self-worshipping, warmongering northerners that threatened to destroy the place she'd learned to call home over the last seven years.

She turned her head sharply left when she received a rough jab to her shoulder. Logen, one of her squadmates, was leering at her.

"Those butter bars are fine, princess. You keep picking at 'em and they're gonna fall off."

She shot him a sneer of her own. "Yes, darling. They're gonna fall off because after this, you won't be calling me 'princess' anymore. You'll be calling me 'ma'am'."

"Hah!" Jameson shouted from the end of the transport, competing hard with the roar of the wind and the humming of engines. "I thought 'ma'am' is a word they use for girls!"

"I'm sorry, you're right! Should've remembered that's how the scouts address you!" she hollered back.

Her return fire was met with a few heavy chuckles from the rest of the troops, and Jameson sank back in his seat, flipping her the bird as he did so.

Logen leaned back in his seat, staring at the stars above them, his smirk gradually fading. "Somethin's eating me, Lawless."

Annabelle hoisted the rifle in her hand, dragging it closer to sit in between her legs. "Such as?"

He gave a glance over behind them, where one of the other hovercraft were tailing along, holding a few troops from the First Division. "We've never seen a deployment like this. Two fifths of the entire Army is a lot of flesh and blood to be sending up North and there's been no announcement, no speeches from the boss."

"I'd say Griff's got his hands full, being regent and all. And any talk about it before the fact might tip off the northerners. They've still got guys running around in our streets, after all."

"And the orders came straight from the top brass of our divisions…"

"Right. So what are you on about? Personally, I'm just fixing to score a few northerner kills. 'Bout time we started showing them who's boss around here. I've had enough of those SOBs blowing up our tourist attractions lately."

The giant snorted, and sighed. "Yeah. I guess. I ain't so keen on killing living Mobians though, bad guys or no."

"Pussy," she said, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Bitch," he grumbled back.

She grinned. "Categorically, yes."

"I'm serious," he said. "I ain't keen on this at all…"

"Get keen, then."

Out the corner of her eye, she saw some of the other troops turning their gaze towards the front of the transport. Poking her head out into the aisle, squinting against the wind, she saw the faint orange glow of civilisation on the horizon.

Her gut churned. Inside, she wasn't feeling so keen, either.

Before she knew it, they plains had turned to mountains, and the Great Unknown that surrounded her before now only lay longingly behind. Ahead, the ruined shapes of a once-proud city, Trema, capital of Mobius North, knelt in the frigid landscape, like long-dead relics.

"Dang," she breathed. "It's like someone beat us to it."

"They're leftovers from the Great War," Logen said. "Barely looks like a city worth invading."

Maybe it wasn't worth it, she thought. But when they approached closer, she saw where the town's populace had started to make their mark – at the feet of those ruined husks, there were several smaller constructions, solidly built and with a kind of northern aesthetic she'd heard about in stories but never seen.

She took a deep breath as she surveyed the landscape. In a different life, it might've even made for a good place for a holiday…

"Alright, ladies…" Emerson, the squad leader, stood up in the front of the transport, grabbing the overhead bar to steady himself. "It's about time for us to crack few Northener skulls! You know the drill, you've heard the briefing. Head straight for the Brotherhood Sanctuary, penetrate and eliminate their primary leadership, while destroying all targets of opportunity. Target enemy infantry and armour, watch for friendly fire and guide civilians out of the way. Ready?"

The troops around Annabelle started jostling, murmuring, coughing. She figured they were all in the same frame of mind as her - these folk weren't robots. Killing robots was easy, and they'd all had enough practice at that.

Then before she had another chance to think, the gate dropped and the whole world became like fire.

Her instincts, drawing right back from her days as a Freedom Fighter, kicked in, and she sprang out of her seat, hitting the icy ground with her rifle at the shoulder and her veins pumping liquid rage. In the back of her mind, she noted how wrong this felt – and how good it felt, to finally have purpose again after so many years of preparing for, it seemed for the longest time, nothing.

They didn't know what hit them.

Left and right – she spied a five sentries, armaments hanging limp and inert at their sides. Before she even had time to squeeze off a shot, someone else had already beaten her to it, and they were shredded in the hail of cacophonous gunfire.

Not far ahead, she spied the entrance to the Sanctuary of the Brotherhood of Thamael. It was well-concealed, looking from the outside like little more than a quaint cottage brushing hard up against the mountainside – but it was hardly a secret these days. Everyone had known about it ever since the North and South had made attempts to establish diplomatic relations, back in Christof's days of rule – back in Nicole's days.

"Demolitions!" Emerson yelled. "Go!"

Two of them, a wolf named Krago and a lizard whose name escaped her at this moment, charged forward, weapons aimed forward, one-handed, at their shoulders, lugging heavy munitions in carry cases with their other hands. The lizard squeezed off a three-round burst to blast the door lock out of its frame, and they kicked it in with a loud snap and crack.

They disappeared for a moment, then came hurtling out again, their weapons clutched lovingly to their chests, and dived in to join with the line they'd formed at the building's perimeter.

"Detonation in fifteen," Krago shouted.

Annabelle plugged her fingers in her ears. Looking away for a moment, she saw the streets of Trema mostly clear now. One of the northerners, a child, was staring on, looking at the dead sentries, already half-covered in snow, the white stained with red. His cheeks were streaked with tears.

"Don't look," Annabelle mouthed to him.

She repeated the words in her head: Don't look…

The flare of the explosion came up in her peripheral vision, and then the shock and blast of the explosion assailed her senses, as the hut was blasted to pieces, enveloped in white-hot fire.

What happened next was a blur.

She piled through the gaping hole in the wall and floor along with the other dozens of bodies around her, scrambled to her feet and moved into the haze. The hall was immense – she'd heard stories of the Sanctuary's beauty – but there was no time to get a look now.

The hall was emptying fast, civilians scurrying out of the way and Brotherhood acolytes taking their place. They'd been fast – very fast. Already, they had barricades erected and were opening fire.

Annabelle lifted her rifle to her shoulder once again and charged forward, firing wildly at the defenders – in under ten seconds, her magazine was empty. She skittered across to the side and took cover behind a pillar, ejecting the still-smoking clip from her rifle and emitting a laboured breath from herself.

When she looked to her side, the hall was already awash with blood, bodies of the dead and dying piled one atop another.

She thought she'd seen hell at Adramalech.

She hadn't. This was hell – at least at Adramalech it felt like there was a point, a battle born of necessity, a race united with its back against the wall – but what was this? The result of simple prejudice? Vengefulness? Jealousy?

Was someone watching this? The gods, perhaps? Perhaps a set of careful players in some kind of cosmic board game?

Somewhere up ahead, a tossed grenade detonated at the base of one of the pillars, and the whole Sanctuary shook around her, rippling through her body, as it crumbled. The hall from end to end was at once enshrouded in dust and smoke.

She wondered for a moment – were they all thinking the same as her, on the side of her enemies and the side of her own alike? Asking the same questions?

The fresh magazine slid home with practiced ease. She saw the shiny bronze of a bullet glistening in her eye, as she pulled the slide back and locked it into the chamber. And she ran.

The faces of her friends and foes flashed by as she cut a swathe through the bedlam, her ears ringing from the din of gunfire, the features upon each figure she passed becoming each less distinct.

"Lawless!" she heard the name faintly up ahead. It was Logen – he'd cleared a path through the chaos somehow, behind a smoking pile of rubble, and waved for her to follow. She made a beeline for the opening, and followed him through.

They rounded the corner ahead together, bouncing and stumbling through the fallen rubble, the jostle of bodies. The initial clash was over – everyone was still flying on adrenalin but the battle had lost its push and direction.

Logen, ahead of her though, had lost none of his – he was headed straight for the end of the hall – to a set of stairs that would lead to Ari's antechamber.

More acolytes blocked their path, weapons raised and already firing before she knew it. She returned with a volley of her own, sweeping two of them off their feet, while Logen's spread of buckshot from his underslung shotgun cleared the rest. Once they were through the door, they began climbing – it was a brisk one, with only a few metres to traverse, but the opposition here had a height advantage. Not bothering to even aim, Annabelle raised her gun above her head and began spraying wildly.

"Bastards!" It took her a second to recognise the voice as her own. "You won't ever lay us down! You hear me? You hear me?"

And they fell, graceful and obedient, to her onslaught.

One door remained ahead – and beyond it, she knew Ari, Grandmaster of the Brotherhood of Thamael, was waiting.

She checked her clip – seven bullets left, in her last magazine, not counting the one already chambered.

It was so quiet. Turning around, she saw Logen had been killed on the way up, an arm reaching longingly out to her from down the stairs.

She turned, fired two bullets into the lock on the door, and kicked it open.

Ari stood right in the middle of the doorway, garbed from head to toe in elaborate black robes, and held his palm out to her, a gesture that seemed half-begging, half-defiant.

"Don't," he said, his voice even.

The canine already felt her index finger curling achingly around the trigger. In the corner of her vision, she saw someone else – Marr, was her name. She'd seen her around Knothole once. Too long ago.

"Don't shoot!" She was shouting. "You don't have to!"

Of course not, Annabelle thought, sneering. But what other choice was there, now? After all the attacks in Mobotropolis, the agony that her friends and family had been through? After losing her mother to the explosion just days prior, set off by a Treman saboteur?

Never had to end this way. Never. Until now. It would end now, or it would never end at all.

She shut her eyes for a second. Love you, mum.

She pulled the trigger and fired the six remaining bullets in her rifle. They struck the air right in front of Ari, and bounced back in all directions, one of them striking her in the chest.

Annabelle fell back in surprise – the way Ari had said that word before. It was too late now to realise: there was nothing pleading about it. It'd been a warning.

The pain poured over her in waves, as she tumbled to the floor, hot and cold running through her veins in equal measure. Ari knelt over her, cradling her head in his hand, a thumb running across her cheek.

He looked forward, listening to the quickly fading sound of the carnage outside, and back at her, eyes full of lament. "What have you done, Nicole?" he whispered to himself.

Suddenly it all made sense to her, as soon as she saw the look in his eyes, and say Nicole's name.

He doesn't know.

Everything before, everything after – there were no gods watching her, or anyone else that'd perish on this day along with her. It was someone else, more fallible and far more flawed. Gods and animals alike – neither were capable of such cruelty. But her people, her kin, were capable of anything.

She closed her eyes and smiled, as the pain drifted away. Then, she was gone.

Ari looked over at Marr. "How is it out there?"

Marr shut her eyes for a moment, her mind's eye peering outside the hall, feeling for the aura of life. In the darkness, she picked up a few faint glows, but none were moving anymore.

"The fighting's stopped," she said.

The Grandmaster nodded, rising to his feet. "Go out there and round up the healers here to tend to the wounded and gather the dead, friend and foe alike."

"Alright," Marr said, her eyes not leaving the dead soldier on the floor in front of them, the blood slowly pooling around her chest. "What are you going to do?"

He turned to her, his face carved out of granite. "I'm going to gather our remaining forces to establish a line at the edge of the Great Unknown."

"We'll be launching a counterattack?"

"Our people will want blood for this," he sighed. "Clearly, we're being sent a message. The time for talk is done. Either Nicole's finally gone truly mad, or something else is going on - doesn't matter now."

"So what do we do?" Marr asked.

"We give our people what they want," Ari said.

III. Will You Have Me?

One month before.

For a moment, as Angiris surveyed the landscape now just starting to glow red with the dawn's rays, he felt faint. He'd made a life of wearing confidence wherever he walked like a great cloak, but there was no denying that he was humbled any time he had to address his kin.

His subjects stood gathered before him outside of Gorromandas, watching his every move. These were the ones that looked to him to set the path, and would walk through fire to serve him. That was their way. How could he feel anything but trepidation when a people of such solidarity, tradition and strength were willing to bow their knee to him?

"My honoured kin," he bellowed against the cool breeze, "this morrow marks our last at Gorromandas. When the sun has fully risen, we bid farewell to this place that we have suffered through for our whole lifetimes, and tomorrow, the Otherland once again becomes our land!"

Scala Grama took a step forward out of the crowd and towards his master, and raised his polearm triumphantly above his head. "Ii-ah!" he shouted.

The rest of the gathering followed: "Ii-ah! Ii-ah!"

The Padra Utama soaked in the ambiance, and smiled to himself. "Once we land, a great plan is to be set in motion. You must all know by now, that the soil of our ancestral home has been ground in by the likes of the ghu-rah. They've built empires on the bones of our ancestors, burned them down again, and built anew. Even as we speak, the less scrupulous of their kind are plotting to use treachery and subterfuge to turn their cities against each other. So lawless are they, that they turn to strike deals with us, to sell out their own kind!"

"Ii-ah! Ii-ah! Ii-ah!"

"On the night that we land, it begins. The leaders of their cities will be meeting to sign a peace treaty among themselves. We have sleeper agents who will slaughter them like lambs - and the fingers of one side will be pointed squarely at the other. Havoc will inevitably follow, as we bide our time, and take what is ours with the power and grace befitting of us!"

Amid the applause, Fiona's ears folded back with dismay. So, what she'd surmised was true. An assassination among the leaders of Mobius, to frame one side with the other's murder, and raise tensions to the boiling point. Her mouth opened and the words flowed before she could stop them: "What honour does that do for us, making bargains with betrayers and highbinders?"

The cheers stopped, and all eyes turned to her.

Her father strode slowly towards her, and rested one meaty paw on her shoulder. A sliver of ice ran down her back, and she struggled to keep from pulling away in front of everyone.

"Understand, my little one," he began, "our garden has been left untended for an age, and it's grown unruly. We can make it beautiful again, but hacking away at the refuse won't make it go away."

"A little water on the weed is all it takes," Scala joined in from behind, whispering in Fiona's ear, "so that you can pull it out by the root." He looked over at Angiris with a sly smile, but when Angiris didn't return the look, it fell right off his face.

Fiona was quiet for a moment. "I see."

"Ha-hah! She sees!" Angiris bellowed to the crowd again, his arms open, palms turned to the heavens. "And so should you all! I know your hearts all thirst for revenge, in payment for our centuries of exile. And you shall have it, soon after our feet touch the soil!"

The furore came back again, and Angiris stepped back to watch his brothers and sisters, mothers and sons, fathers and daughters, raise their fists to the sky as one.

"To the otherland!"

"To our home!"

"Now, gather your things, and prepare yourselves. Our rightful kingdom awaits!" Angiris announced, turning to head back inside.

The cheers followed him all the way in. "Ii-ah! Ii-aah!"

As soon as he was out of sight, Fiona ran, making for the treeline as fast as her powerful legs would take her.

Tails' eyes sprang open to find two medical kits sitting in his lap, and Fiona's silhouette towering over him against the moonlight, hands on her hips.

"Oh, crap," he said, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Not much time has passed since I left you here, whelp," Fiona said. "As you asked. Two."

He took one of the kits and studied it, balancing each end between his thumbs and index fingers. "Excellent. Let's see if they still work." He sprang to his feet and strode across to Sonic, who, mercifully, had not stirred from his sleep.

"You know how to make them function?"

Tails knelt at Sonic's side, and took one hand gently in his, checking for a pulse. Sonic's heart was racing. "I've only ever seen one of these before, but it wasn't too hard to figure," he said to Fiona over his shoulder. After a moment, he turned to look at her, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear. "Wait a minute…"

Fiona raised an eyebrow at him inquisitively.

"How long were you here while I was asleep, watching me?"

Fiona's gaze met with his and locked. "Long enough…"

Despite himself, and despite his circumstance, Tails felt his cheeks flushing. "Long enough…?"

"Long enough to slit your throat and drain you of your life's blood, were it one of my kin standing where I stand. You let your guard down, and you sleep too soundly."

"Oh," he breathed, praying to the gods that she hadn't seen his ears folding back. "I see."

She folded her arms, a smirk dominating her features. "So…"

Tails' thumb flicked the safety ring off of the end of the device, and pressed the button. Nothing happened. He frowned.

Fiona sighed, turning to gaze over at the water near to them. "It's broken."

"I think the chemicals in these things need heat to make them mix," Tails said. "Usually I'd say it's a gas lighter in the end of the syringe. It's probably just leaked out. Good thing I can make my own fire." He clenched his fist for a moment, concentrated, and opened his palm to a small flame burning in the middle of it. In his other hand, he took the device and held the rear end of it to the flame for a minute or two, turning it around slowly.

The other end of the cylinder suddenly split into four chunks that popped off of the device, revealing a needle within, preserved as freshly as it would've been the day it was packed into the medical bay it was pulled from.

"Sonic, wake up," Tails said, giving him a gentle shake.

"Ugh… wha?" Sonic stirred, and winced in pain as he turned a little to look at him.

He took Sonic's wrist in one hand, clutching it tightly. "Sonic, clench your fist a few times."

Sonic looked at him for a moment, then his hand, then nodded. He started curling his fingers until the veins in his wrist started to jut out. "Good," Tails said, and beckoned Fiona over with a finger. "Hold his legs," he told her.

Fiona's familiar old scowl came back instantly. "This will hurt him?" She pressed her palms over Sonic's ankles, pinning them into the soft grass.

"Not much," Tails said.

Sonic blinked, looking at him. "You sure?"

Tails let the tip of the syringe slide easily into Sonic's exposed vein, and pushed the plunger all the way home. The hot concoction flowed quickly through Sonic's bloodstream, and suddenly it felt like his whole body was on fire.

"Ah-" His eyes shot open, and he started kicking uncontrollably against Fiona's grip. Paralysed in pain, he looked at Tails, his mouth agape, suddenly too wrapped up in the agony to even scream.

Fiona looked at Tails, as Sonic continued convulsing under her. "What is happening?" she growled at him.

"Just hold him a little more," Tails said, pinning Sonic's shoulders against the dirt. "It's taking effect. He'll be okay in a moment."

Sonic gave one last desperate struggle in his delirium, sweat pouring out of him, and then finally fell silent and deadly still.

Fiona's scowl grew deeper. "This is right?"

Tails nodded. "That serum is putting his body's metabolism into overdrive, and the nanomachines in it are starting to stitch his bones back together on the molecular level. I remembered that the last time I saw it used, it took some time for the sedatives to kick in." He grimaced a little at what he'd just done. "I don't recall it taking that long, though. But he'll be on his feet again in a few hours."

She pressed two fingers to her lips thoughtfully, her tails swishing absently behind her. "Okay. Then I'm going," she said, taking a few steps back.

Tails took a step towards her again. "I suppose you'd better be. And… I suppose this is goodbye, then."

Fiona closed her eyes, her frizzy bangs falling across them again. "My father-" She stopped herself. "My kin will set off when the sun sets. To the West, to the shore. Where the river and ocean meet, is where we begin our voyage."

"If Sonic and I beat them there, could we stow away on one of the ships?" Tails asked.

She said nothing in response. Her eyes remained closed. Her hands dangled limply at her sides.

He nodded. "I understand."

"There's something else," she said. "When we land, we'll be enacting a plan. There are saboteurs in your cities, Miles. There will be a meeting of your continent's two leaders, and one of them will be assassinated."

"Christof…" Tails whispered. "And Nicole!" His eyes went wide, and his view became faint with the realisation. "Which one were they going to kill?"

Fiona shook her head. "I don't know."

Tails ran a hand through his mane, his breaths becoming short and sharp. "Oh, gods. Oh, gods…" He took a step towards her, his eyes still darting left and right with panic. "I could beat them to it, stop the murder from happening…"

"Or if you're too late, they'll blame you," Fiona said.

"Then I'll make sure no one can," Tails growled back. "I… I can do this. You won't stop me, will you?"

Fiona looked him dead in the eyes, and Tails found himself lost in her gaze for a moment. "I won't be able to. I won't know you're there. You will disappear from my life. Gone."

"But-"

"Let me be clear, Miles. If our paths cross again after this meeting, I will kill you." Her stare was sharpened to a knife edge. "Do you understand?"

Tails' frown threatened to break into a defiant sob, but he swallowed it, and let out a slow breath. "So, you've chosen your side at last."

Her eyes suddenly broke away from his and closed, her fiery red hair framing and partially obscuring her face.

They stood there for a while, not making contact, not looking at each other. Tails' gaze drifted down to his feet and he found his own eyes closing as well. Suddenly he felt lost, embraced by the gentle breeze, the sweet morning air, the sound of rustling leaves and lapping water.

Fiona's thoughts began to wander, as she stood there. She opened her eyes, and saw Tails standing there, lost in his own thoughts, arms folded.

With a shaking hand, she reached for his cheek.

In her mind's eye, she saw her father, Angiris, and her mother, Janassa, and her hand stopped just shy of Tails' face. Her bottom lip began to quiver.

More time passed.

"Tails..." she whispered to him, her voice barely a squeak below her breath.

He slowly opened his eyes, even the dim moonlight suddenly too much for him. "What did you call me?"

She was gone.

When the first rays of the sun started to hit Sonic's eyelids, they sprang open, looking quickly to the left and right.

Cautiously, he began to shift his broken legs - and they did as commanded, without protest. The crippling pain was gone - the intense throbbing in his head had gone. He still felt listless and exhausted, but the hope had come back somehow. He knew too, the anger would soon follow.

Tails was sitting up straight beside the water, with his legs folded and his eyes closed. Sonic gave him a light tap on the shoulder.

He turned away from the water to look up at him, and smiled. "How're you feeling?"

Sonic grinned a grin that Tails had thought he might never see again. "Like I'm ready to kick ass and eat chilli-dogs. And I'm all outta chilli-dogs." He held out his hand, and Tails took it gingerly.

Once he was on his feet again, he pulled Sonic into a tight hug. In the midst of all the chaos that was now enshrouding his world at every turn, the moments of relief and joy that still came up here and there were something he'd cherish more than ever before.

Before they left to begin the race against the Kitsune Enclave to reach their fleet, they searched the forest for a short time to find some assorted fruits and berries, that would comprise their breakfast. Sonic leapt up into the trees, and after a few brief moments of rummaging, Tails caught a pair of wild Durugan fruits. He took a flying leap up against the tree, and hauled Sonic along with him to sit on a branch just above the forest canopy.

They sat quietly for a while as they ate, watching the golden rays of the sun rising from between the mountains. Sonic took a bite of his fruit, wiping the sweet exotic juices from his mouth with the back of his arm, and gave a brief sigh. He couldn't remember the last time he'd tasted anything so good.