"I do not ..."

She paused before she sat up, thinking about where she had left her fine black chocobo. "But I may be able to find a place."

They spent the night in a barn, as unbecoming as it was. Stare knew that Vitruvion himself would reel with the idea of sleeping with the pigs, the sheep and their steeds. She remained awake for some time, looking across to Nosdyn and realising just how much he had lost. His family, his people, his position ... She had lost much, but found something else. A position, a home in some respects, suffering that had made her stronger.

Little did she sleep that night, as she watched the back of the demon's head, and she imagined what hells they as both been through, literally and figuratively. Eventually she was able to let her awareness of the world fade and come to a fitful slumber, but it was short and aggressive.

She dreamed she was on beach, wuth the seas stretched before her. It was dark, however, and the sand itself was course and grainy, uncomfortably digging into the softer parts of her feet. What was most horrifying was the light - it was a brilliant orange and as she looked up she could see the source. Ships, as far as the eye could see all burning.

And the waters itself, were burning.

They rode the next day as fast as chocobo and rented horse would allow, thundering hooves and quick claws carrying them north. They passed small villages, collecting the few supplies they might need and on the second night they slept under the stars. Again, Stare hardly slept, her heart heavy and little comfort in her soul.

Again, she saw the burning sea in her dream, but this time there were figures scurrying up the masts, above the flames. She cried out several times for someone to help them, but nobody seemed to hear. As she spread her own wings to attempt she heard a crackle, smelt cinder and ... Her wings were burning also.

She woke up in a sweat, pushing at her feathers hectically. She rolled, padded, breathed heavily - but felt nothing. It took her some full seconds to realise she was not on fire.

Slowly she forced a breath, then collapsed, allowing the ground to support her and lay there. Comfortable, but terrified and confused she lay there until morning, before they were going again. Before they charged towards the harbour where the second of Vitruvion's ships, the Spirited Wave was expected to lie.

Except when they got there ... She was gone.