Chapter Text
Core: Ontos
Location: Bionis and Mechonis
Year: 1377
The red glow is what gives it away. The sparkling bit isn’t exactly unique when surrounded by a beach full of tiny, shining rocks that all glimmer in the sun.
But the red. That draws Shulk’s attention.
It takes him a moment to recognize it as he pulls it out of the sand and cradles it in his palm. But even after, it doesn’t make much sense. It’s been only two weeks since Zanza fell and the free world was born, and most of those days have been spent desperately trying to recover from the near destruction and rebirth of life as they know it. But in that time, Shulk hasn’t seen hide or hair of Alvis. Not a single whisper.
Shulk had thought he might go back to the remaining High Entia, but Melia hasn’t heard from him, nor has he been found in any of the Hom colonies. It’s still early to give up, of course, but the conclusion seems fairly obvious.
It’s not entirely surprising, but it is a tad disappointing.
Now that disappointment has turned to confusion. Why would Alvis leave his necklace of all things lying in the sand, the black leather band that had wrapped it around his neck nowhere to be seen? Should he expect his coat to wash up on the shore as well? Maybe a pair of boots?
Is that what he’s doing? Leaving behind his physical possessions while he goes… away? Wherever that is, if anywhere at all. If he’s still alive. If he was ever alive.
Shulk’s attention is pulled back to the charm when it pulses in his palm. The red, almost orange color in its center swirls around like a mini vortex in the hand, and Shulk doesn’t remember the necklace looking quite like this when it sat atop Alvis’s collarbone. There’s an energy dripping off of it- an essence- that feels so familiar. It takes Shulk longer than it should to place why.
Seconds pass by, and Shulk still hasn’t moved. There’s a gentle vibration in the crystal, and he can’t quite bring himself to look away. Why? Why had Alvis left this here? Was it intentional or just a coincidence that Shulk would stumble upon it again? A keepsake, perhaps?
Shulk’s brow furrows as the crystal’s vibrations increase. The swirling in the center becomes more and more violent, and a sudden bright light erupts from it. A harsh wave of energy shoots out from its glass-like shell- strong enough to knock Shulk off his feet and into the sand. Consciousness leaves him shortly after, and his eyes close with his palm still wrapped around the shining crystal.
Core: Pneuma
Location: Alrest
Year: 4058
There’s a noticeable shake in his hands, but he’s not sure if it’s from pain or shock or fear. The answer doesn’t really matter so long as his limbs continue to obey his commands. He pulls on the scraps of metal blocking his path, yanking a sheet of fallen wall- or maybe ceiling- out of his way. He manages to slice his hand open in the process, but again, he ignores it, just like he ignores the tall flames closing in on him from every side.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be left here. He can see through the flickering fire and cracks in debris that the space on the floor where the white Siren had sat is empty, but that can’t be right. It can’t be. It can’t-
Arms wrap around his torso, pulling him backwards with a sharp tug. He nearly loses his footing, and all his effort goes into escaping the iron grip.
“Come on!” Mythra’s voice rings in his ears, her hold on him tightening when his struggle persists. “We can’t stay here!”
“No!” It comes out like a growl, and it tears at his throat almost as much as the smoke that fills it. “I’m not leaving! Malos!”
He reaches out a hand into the empty space, as if expecting Malos to reach through and grab hold of it- to pull himself to safety or drag Jin along with him. Either is fine. Either is good. Anything is better than-
“He’s gone!” Mythra’s hold on him is awkward with the size difference, but despite that, she manages to drag him towards the door. His boots skid against the smooth metal floor, failing to find any traction that might aid in his resistance. “You can’t-!”
“I said I’d go with him! I was supposed to go with him!”
“Jin!”
Another pair of hands grabs hold of him, taller this time, but attached to a similarly blonde head of hair. The two against one is more than Jin can take, and he’s hauled from the room. His fight doubles, but they don’t seem to notice as he’s dragged down hall after hall. Corridor after corridor.
“Mythra!”
It’s the kid’s voice, standing right at the edge of the shuttle bay and waiting readily for her return. She heads towards it, sealing the door to the ship closed the moment she’s fully inside. She finally lets go of Jin, allowing him to fall to the ground with only Mikhail left supporting him. He doesn’t stay down for long, jumping back to his feet and lashing out against the closed entrance.
“Mythra!” Rex yells again, pointing at the digital clock held in his hands. “The timer’s almost up!”
Mythra rushes to the front of the ship. The engines are already online, waiting for her direction to take off. She gives it exactly that, and the shuttle around them begins to vibrate before peeling down the tracks and launching into the sky. The occupants turn and look out the massive glass windows as the timer in Rex’s hands reaches zero.
The explosives they had rigged all up the length of the tree go off as planned, starting at the very top and working their way down the beanstalk. Debris scatters in the air around them, and while this in itself could cause some damage, it’s nothing compared to what the fall of the World Tree upon Alrest would have done to the world.
It worked. Both parts worked. Feedback from the Conduit- diverted away. The World Tree’s collapse- destroyed. Months of planning with no way to test, and it worked. The relief is almost enough to send Mythra to her knees, and she can’t help the choked laugh that leaves her throat. It worked .
Alrest is safe. Her home is safe. Her friends are safe.
Her gaze goes to Jin. His fight is gone. He kneels on the ground, one hand still pressed up against the closed door. She can’t see his face, and she’s not sure she wants to. He barely moves at all, not even to acknowledge the presence of Mikhail sitting next to him, his palm on Jin’s shoulder and barely holding back tears of his own.
It worked.
And Malos is gone.
Core: Logos
Location: Unnamed
Year: 0
When he opens his eyes, he wishes he hadn’t. There’s an almost gentle pang reverberating from his Core and throughout the rest of his body- a dull throbbing feeling in the back of his head. Sore might be the best way to describe it. He is sore. His Core is sore. Overextended. Overused. Abused. Stretched to its very limits.
Siren’s interior is small, and even with the controls transferred over to Malos, giving the wings and Core its familiar purple hue, it still feels foreign. It feels too much like his partner. There was a time such a thing wouldn’t have bothered him, but their spat five hundred years ago had soured their relationship more than a bit.
Even so, Siren is his to wield now. He could pilot her if he wanted to- explore what’s within his line of sight and then some. But is there even a point?
He knows the answer already, but he can’t help but reach out- reach into the endless void.
Is anyone there?
Siren’s eyes become his own, and he gazes out upon the new world, despite the effort making his still inflamed Core burn. But there’s nothing. Nothing but him and Mythra’s Siren, floating through the emptiness of space. Not even space. Nothing. A universe in its first breath of existence.
There’s nothing but him here, and so there’s nothing at all.
He releases his control over Siren and rests his head back on the metal wall behind him. It’s not a surprise. He’s known this would almost certainly be the outcome- he’s known that for months. There was no stopping it. That’s what Mythra had said then and what he had confirmed for himself when Jin refused to accept it.
Jin didn’t want to listen. He didn’t want to believe it. But it was true.
It wasn’t Mythra's fault, or Malos’s for that matter. It’s hard to even blame their father- not entirely, at least. Not for this. For many other things, yes, but not this.
This was just fate. Cruel fate.
Or maybe it was for the best. Jin is still alive, and he still has the power of an Aegis. Mythra will make good on her promise. She’ll help him. She’ll make the world he always dreamed of. It was supposed to be Malos, but Mythra can take his place. She’ll have to. She promised.
As for Malos, he’s done his part. He’s done everything he could do. Now there’s nothing left. He places his hand against his Core, grabbing hold of the wretched consciousness his father had thought appropriate to give him, and pushes it as far down as he can manage.
There’s nothing but him here, and so there’s nothing to do but sleep.
Maybe it won’t be so alone in his dreams.