The battlefield was eerily silent after Caius's fall. The ruins of Valhalla's echoes still rang, but the fighting was over. Noel stood trembling, his blade lowered, watching as Serah suddenly swayed, her body giving out as though the strings of fate had been cut.
"Serah!" Noel caught her, holding her close as her breath grew shallow. Her lips trembled, but no words came. She had seen too much, carried too much. The Eye of Etro had shown her the truth she had fought so hard to change—and the weight of it tore the life from her.
Her hand slipped from Noel's arm, and she went still.
"No…" Noel whispered, his voice breaking as he gently laid her on the ground. "Not you too… Please, not you…" His pleas scattered into the wind, carried into silence.
He lowered his head in grief, eyes burning with unshed tears, but he didn't see the shadow that moved nearby.
---
From behind the veil of fate, Sirius stepped forward. He waited until Noel's sorrow anchored him elsewhere—too deep in despair to notice anything beyond Serah's still form. With a quiet hand, Sirius knelt beside her.
Her body was fragile, her spirit already detached, hovering in the currents of Etro's power. Sirius pressed two fingers against her chest, and the trinket he carried pulsed with a muted glow.
A tether extended. The Eye of Etro's curse unraveled. And breath returned.
Serah's eyes snapped open. She gasped sharply, clutching her chest as color bled back into her cheeks. Noel, exhausted and broken, had moved further away in grief, blind to the miracle happening behind him.
---
Serah blinked rapidly, her mind spinning. The visions—her curse, her gift—still echoed in her skull. She tried to reach for them instinctively, to call upon the Eye again. But when she reached for the threads of fate… there was nothing.
Her breaths came shallow, confused. It's gone. The Eye—it's gone.
A calm voice interrupted her frantic searching. "It won't return, Serah."
She froze, her gaze snapping toward the man kneeling beside her. A stranger—yet not entirely unfamiliar. His presence radiated calm, as though the chaos of Valhalla could never touch him.
"Who… who are you?" Serah asked softly, her voice shaking.
Sirius tilted his head slightly and gestured toward the trinket now resting faintly glowing in her palm. "That will answer you. It's a good luck charm. One I gave you."
Her eyes widened. Memories stirred—her branding, her fear, that mysterious man who had offered her comfort once before. She whispered, realization dawning, "You… Sirius."
Sirius inclined his head. "Yes. And you are alive because of me."
Her lips trembled as she searched his face. "Why? Why am I alive? I felt… I know I died."
Sirius exhaled, his expression firm but not unkind. "Because destiny demanded your end. But destiny is not absolute. Your world… its path leads all who bear weight to death. That was your final journey. But I refuse to let fate decide everything. Not for you. Not for the others."
Serah clutched the trinket tighter, as if grounding herself in his words.
"You cannot stay in your world," Sirius continued, his tone carrying both truth and inevitability. "If you do, destiny will claim you again. It is relentless. But you have a choice. Join me. Join the others I have saved. Together, you will fight something far greater—the World of Chaos. It seeks to devour all Final Fantasy worlds, including yours. To stop it, I need you. Not as a pawn of fate. But as yourself, Serah Farron."
Her chest rose and fell as she listened, the truth unraveling with terrifying clarity. For so long she had fought against inevitability, sought to change the future. And yet here, this man spoke plainly: her death was already written. But so was her second chance.
"I…" she began, her voice trembling but steadying with resolve. "If my world is still in danger… if Lightning and everyone I love could be threatened… then yes. I'll join you. If I can stop this Chaos—if I can protect others—then my life still has meaning."
Sirius smiled faintly. "Then hold tight to that resolve. Because the battles ahead will demand more than even fate asked of you."
The trinket pulsed brighter, as though responding to her choice.
---
With a sweep of his hand, Sirius cloaked Serah's presence from the threads of her own world, removing her from the chains of destiny once more. Then, with a quiet command to Aetherveil, the air shimmered, folding like glass into light.
The veil closed behind them as they vanished from the ruins of Valhalla, leaving Noel with his grief, none the wiser.
---
Serah blinked as new air filled her lungs—a warm desert breeze. The horizon stretched wide, sand and stone meeting a vast city crowned with spires. Dalmasca.
She staggered slightly, her hands gripping her skirts. Her heart raced with bewilderment, but Sirius's steady hand on her shoulder steadied her.
"This…" she whispered, eyes wide. "This isn't Cocoon. This isn't Pulse."
"No," Sirius confirmed. "This is Dalmasca, in another world. Your new beginning."
Her eyes shimmered with equal parts sorrow and hope. She clutched the trinket close to her chest, whispering to herself, Lightning… I'll live on. Not just for you. But for everyone who still needs me.
And then, faintly—through the trinket at her wrist—she felt something. Not voices, not yet. But a resonance, like threads calling to threads. Familiar yet unknown. Waiting.
Somewhere in Dalmasca, two others stirred as well. Clive Rosfield felt his trinket thrum against his chest, while Lunafreya lifted her head from her journal, sensing the same quiet pull.
Sirius's lips curved faintly. "You'll meet them soon."
Serah blinked, her heart racing again—not with fear, but with a fragile, growing hope.