I wonder where Olive ended up. That girl upstairs was dressed just like her. Cira disappeared from the top of the tower under the light of the suns and charred the ground when she arrived at the courtyard in a blast of dark lightning. She couldn’t turn into shadows like that necromancer, but this felt at least as effective.

The courtyard was a mess. Broken glass and barrels on their side in murky puddles. In fact, it looked like they never cleaned up after that night. The odd pirate passed out here or there while even more brandished their swords with unsteady hands, completely blown away by the spectacle unfolding. Even more scantily dressed women for some reason, but the roster seemed to have dwindled since her last visit.

A mage with no staff gently let Captain Wick down with wind magic and almost dropped him stumbling back when Cira appeared. Two more men in extravagant yet dirty robes flanked him on either side and went pale when she met their eyes.

“Wick.” Cira’s voice shook the palace and silenced everyone present. “If you have nothing to say for yourself—”

“Wait! I-I do have something to say!” His knee popped as he struggled to stay on his feet under the crushing mana. “This is a huge misunderstanding, I’m sure! Just h-hear me out, alright?”

His curly mustache twitched nervously as Cira’s pressurized gaze didn’t falter in the slightest. This guy is slurring his words worse than last time. Does he himself even understand what’s happening? What could I possibly have misunderstood? I’ve already found Kuja. She’s right inside.

“We just haven’t had the chance to talk yet,” Wick stammered, putting on the most frail reassuring smile Cira had seen in ages. His face was bright red and he started to sweat as her glare continued unmoved. “How about it, Dreadheart? An up-and-coming young captain like you… You should stay here—in the palace!”

“And why,” Cira was not amused, “would I do that?”

She instantly regretted entertaining him for even a moment as he seemed somehow emboldened, “Because I’m the Pirate King! Flyin’ in these skies, you basically work for me, but I’ll show ya’ the ropes. Hell, I’ll even make you my queen! All the riches in the sky’ll be yours, and—and Kuja’s just fine, I swear—”

He yelped as he was torn off his feet by the orichalcum staff. It pierced the wind like a spear and pinned him against the wall through his shoulder. Bricks crumbled and fell over him in a huge pile. Only Cira could see him through the dense cloud of dust, and she swept it away with a brush of her hand. It dispersed in an instant and the bricks were ripped backward through the wall which shattered and was blasted into the distant hillside.

The impressive weight of the orichalcum pulled him to the ground like a boatload of lead and Wick’s face dug into the ground as the staff slipped away, leaving a bruised and wounded former king alone in a desolate stretch of dirt. Cira noticed a horde of dumbfounded pirates on the other side of where the palace wall used to be. Seemingly an army ready to march. Some fell to their knees from the explosion and others merely looked on in disbelief.

“Ridiculous.” The golden smoke of very painful but very fast healing magic poured from his wounds, healing him instantly as he squirmed beneath Cira’s boot. She leaned in, pressing into his ribs, and only let up when he started to cough. One last kick across the face and she finally stood back. Golden chains twisted around his limbs and wrapped his body. “Have you just been hiding in this palace and drinking and dreaming of nonsense since I fell asleep? Look at this place. It’s falling apart.”

She was directly responsible for anywhere it was literally falling apart, but she was referring to the clear state of disarray his stronghold had been in. Even now, he just stared at her from the ground with unfocused eyes and a pained expression on his tear-stained face. It was a pathetic sight. She much preferred villains like the necromancer over Wick and Don’s ilk.

“P-please, don’t kill him!” A young woman with rough hands and the uniform of a classic maid fell to her knees before Cira. Her face was pale as she struggled to stay conscious—Cira let up on the mana a little. Heavy tears fell from her eyes as she looked up in desperation.

“His life is in the hands of those who live on Lost Cloud.” Cira nudged her head to the broken wall where the people of Hangman’s Cove still stood frozen in shock. “I’m just passing through.”

The woman’s lips trembled as she realized her pleas fell on deaf ears. I’ve wasted enough time. Wick’s not going anywhere. Now I just need to—

“Let him go, now!” A shrill cry came from the doorway behind Cira. Her eyes shot open as she twisted around. Im…impossible—there was nobody there! Why can I only see him with my eyes? Is he a mage? Unfortunately, he didn’t give her time to think, “If you care about your friend’s life, you’ll do as I say.”

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A short man with patchy hair and a crazed look in his eyes held the muzzle of a pistol against Kuja’s face. In the ten seconds Cira wasn’t looking, this man got his hands on her. God dammit… how do I keep letting this happen?

“Release her—” The man had no aura to speak of and shuddered at her oppressive words that shook the palace walls. She watched him wince as his muscles tightened up under their weight. His fist clenched unconsciously from the unchecked mana ravaging his body, and the percussive blast of his flintlock echoed through the courtyard. The pristine palace wall was painted crimson and pink.

The sky shifted and seemed to stop like a shattered timepiece. Even the wind died in an instant as Cira’s eyes widened. She was shocked still like the world around her.

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Mac’s condescending voice flooded her mind. “You seriously have no sense of your power right now, do you? You may as well be grinding everyone present beneath a mountain—”

“Shut up!” Cira’s voice and the walls cracked while her hands shook. What… what do I do? “M-Mac, you have to do something. Quick!”

She heard a long sigh, “You know, this is actually kind of disappointing. I thought things were going to be different, but you’re even more thoughtless now. What the hell do you expect me to do? You seem to have trapped her soul in your domain, but her body is already saturating with death. I don’t think she would want to be undead. You might just have to take the loss here—”

“No… I refuse to accept that.” She’s already dead… But what can I do? Holy light had already mended her body, but just as Mac said, white death mana radiated from it—originating where her soul used to be.

Where is it…. Why can’t I feel the flow of fate? Aren’t I supposed be able to change it?! So, why not now? Cira’s fists clenched. Stepping out of the essence loom she had never felt so powerful, but now, she had never felt more helpless, let alone stupid. If only I hadn’t crashed here…

The wind started to blow again and everyone in the courtyard drew in a frantic breath for the first time in a painfully long moment as her grip over the area loosened. She had questions for the man who took her hostage, so he disappeared into the rubble as she pulled away Kuja’s remains.

Cira’s sight had never been the best in this regard, but she could clearly see the Archaean Woman’s soul now, glistening in the light. It floated before her, suspended only within the aethereal plane like a cloud too eager to drift away. Somehow, she could feel a deep melancholy from within.

A shadow passed over the palace and everyone got a glimpse of Breeze Haven descending. Cira had to tune out a small commotion.

If I can’t twist her fate, then I can only rely on my sorcery. My aura is back, so I can do this much, can’t I?

The phenomenon in which death mana sprouted from the void left behind by a freshly departed soul was referred to as the fatal bloom. Within the realm of necromantic academia, it was a golden rule that this event could not be reversed. Once it occurred, one’s essence was permanently sundered.

Suspiciously enough, there’s not a single study so much as questioning this law in the library. At the very least, Dad would have written down his thoughts on it. So where are those books? In the forbidden archive, surely.

That means this isn’t the end for Kuja. It’s been done before, I’m certain. But how?

“Hey, just sayin’” Mac abruptly derailed her train of thought, “You got five or ten minutes tops before you start destroying her. Loose souls can’t just linger.”

Dammit. I have her soul. It’s right here! It sat within her chest hardly a minute ago, overlayed on the aethereal plane. And the body is completely healed. If I simply reattach her soul, it will quickly decay in death’s haze. Come to think of it… Dad never even described how the fatal bloom works. That’s more suspicious than anything. What even is it?

She focused all eyes on the pit in Kuja’s chest. It was like a miniature mana well of death. It simply poured out without restraint, seeming to only intensify the longer Cira held onto her soul.

It’s safe to say the flow would dull if I let her pass on… but I can’t do that. I’ve never considered how to make a mana well disappear, but it should be possible, I think. This is just that on a much smaller scale. If I think about it, mana wells are a puncture in the fringe between aether and space. I can work with both of those things, so… why couldn’t I patch it up?

Shadow Quill felt like the best tool for this, and it appeared in another explosion of black lightning. She didn’t have to worry about running out of mana anymore and waved it around forming intricate patterns. A bed of glowing runes wrapped around Kuja’s body.

Ropes slapped against the ground and Cira glanced up to see people sliding down them from the sky. First Jimbo, and James shortly followed, then the rest of her crew dropped from Breeze Haven one after the other. Gil with a red ball of flame at his back, while the brothers’ icy rivers floated around the courtyard. Cedric appeared in a bolt of lightning while Jimbo’s face turned sour watching it, and Rocky showed up in a crater once the dust cleared. Last to appear were her paladins and Skipper for some reason as they gently fell to the ground in a shroud of holy light.

Given just a couple months of unguided practice, Cira would have been almost as impressed with their entrance as the masses were if she weren’t dealing with such an urgent situation at the moment.

“What the hell is this? You’ve been gone for five minutes!” James broke the silence as everyone gawked at Kuja’s corpse and the ruined courtyard. “What happened—”

“Kuja… was killed.” Cira felt her nails dig into her palm. “It’s my fault—”

“Fuck’s that matter? Quit cryin’.” Jimbo cut her off, somewhat in a panic as he gazed at the strange array forming around Kuja’s body, “Can you save her or what?”

“I’ll do it… but I need a minute.” I can’t mess this up twice. “You guys just deal with everyone else.”