Third person all the way here. i supposed this really should be an "interlude" sort- but it's a little close to the end of the fic for such a thing, eh?

In it's birth, chaos had followed. The lands had screamed, the skies wept and oceans boiled....A horrid calamity claiming the lives of so many to fuel it's own.

In it's death...silence reigns over all. One by one, the people of the freezing, dying lands look to the skies with wide eyed wonder as the phoenix that had shattered the egg of their world spreads it's wings once more...and fades, little by little...

Dark feathers fall like a soft rain, covering the flaws of the blue gem and soothing them...soaking in and leaving healing in their wake. The oceans cease their raging as gentle ripples spread from their landing...and the winds began to soften their lament. The lands are slowly released from their frozen coffins, white snow melting away under this gentle blizzard of ebon down.

Far overhead, the ghostly remains of the Dark Moon give a final parting cry, vanishing into nothingness. Slowly, as if unable to believe what has come to pass, the stars begin to peek out of the night sky once more, the veil of night casting her jewels in the wake of that soft, sorrowful requiem...a promise of hope in the death of something few would ever understand.

Celebrations begin...people emerging from homes wrapped in blankets and heavy coats, staring to the skies in awe and then cheering as the ice and snow visibly begin to draw away from them and their homes. It would be some time before everything was back to normal- and those lost would never return. But tomarrow was still there for those who had held on to see it.

Such an important day it had become. Though in time.."tomarrow" would soon once again be just another day.never remarked, never missed...That is the way of human nature. Other things must not join that however...or that eventually unimportant tomarrow would be denied them again.

Only one place is not celebrating. Only one town has it's streets lined with people who do not cheer...their heads are bowed, torches held high to light the way as a body is born through the lines they form. The Paladin leads the way of this solemn march..while behind him, a white and black mage bear the burden of the body. Porom ghosts behind- unseeing and unhearing of the Elder guiding her gently by the shoulders. And at the end of it- Golbez also walks, hands in shackles, several mages to either side to keep him in line. His apparent murder of Palom, and attempted murder of this world yet again would not be so lightly forgiven..

Over this grim procession, the feathers continue to fall...more like dark tears than snow here, joining the tears of Porom and of those who had held even the irrate black mage Palom dear. Cecil remains silent throughout the journey to the beach and aids in the collecting of the sticks that would make up Palom's pyre. After that...Golbez would be tried for his crimes and likely sent to the same fate.

The Dark Moon and it's danger were gone...but the Requiem it seems is destined to sing on for some time yet....

(Continued in: True Balance)

Short and sweet, hm? I sure hope it was anyway...