Cid had finally stopped arguing. The old mechanic sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples as the faint glow of the workshop lights flickered across his face.
"Alright," he muttered, "I'll help you build it. Can't promise miracles, but you'll get a system that runs."
Helios stretched his arms, the tension in his shoulders easing. "That's all I need," he said, stifling a yawn. "I'll head back for some sleep—an hour or two at most. Then I'll bring you to meet the Moogles."
Cid grinned faintly. "Try not to short-circuit yourself before then, kid."
Helios smirked, waving lazily as he turned toward the door. "No promises."
The garage door creaked open with a groan of old metal. Cold air poured in, carrying the faint scent of rain and smoke. Outside, Traverse Town shimmered beneath its eternal night. The lamps along the cobblestone street glowed amber, casting halos in the mist. Above, the stars were scattered like dust—so constant, so untouchable, that for a brief moment, Helios envied them.
He slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and began walking.
The streets were mostly empty, save for the distant footsteps of patrols and the soft hum of vending machines. The fountain in the square still gurgled quietly, its waters tinted gold beneath the lamplight.
Helios's mind wandered as he passed through the district gates, descending the narrow alleys toward the First District. The mechanical rhythm of his boots against the stone felt like a metronome counting down the seconds he didn't have.
He had Cid now. The New Heart would soon be started and eventually complete. But his real concern wasn't the hardware—it was the schedule.
Things were moving faster than they should have.
In the original timeline—the game timeline—Ansem the Wise escaped the Realm of Darkness on his own, guided by darkness and took the name DiZ's and waited for the chance to intervene. But when Helios fought Baldr at Castle Oblivion, the truth had shifted. The castle was still locked.
Meaning the escape hadn't happened yet.
Meaning someone else—him—had to open that door.
It was getting harder to tell whether he was messing with the world's timeline or just pushing them toward their predetermined stories.
"Fate," he murmured, his breath misting in the cold. "The biggest scam of all."
He stopped at the First District's archway, glancing up at the ever-starred sky. For all its beauty, it never changed. Not once. A painted ceiling pretending to be infinity.
Helios smirked weakly. "Guess that makes us both artificial."
The air trembled as the dark corridor bloomed open—cold rushing in like water through a crack in glass.
He raised his hand, and a ripple of darkness spiraled open before him—a Corridor of Darkness, pulsing faintly with violet light. He stepped through without hesitation.
The world shifted around him. The smell of smoke gave way to the scent of sugar and ozone. When the corridor closed, he stood once more inside the small loft above the Moogles' restaurant.
The soft hum of machinery below mingled with the faint bubbling of cocoa pots. One of the Moogles snored somewhere behind the counter.
On the couch near the window, Thalen was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in quiet rhythm. The faint light from the terrace brushed against his blonde hair.
Kurai, however, was awake.
She sat by the window, her arms crossed, watching him emerge from the corridor as if she had expected him. Her eyes—those endless silver voids—reflected the faint glow of the stars outside.
Helios smiled faintly and pressed a finger to his lips. 'Quiet.'
He pointed toward the terrace.
Kurai arched a brow but stood wordlessly, following him outside.
The terrace overlooked the First District square. Below, the lamplight shimmered against wet pavement, and the faint sound of Moogle chatter drifted from the restaurant.
Helios leaned against the railing, letting the night air wash over him. Kurai stood beside him, silent for a long moment.
Finally, she spoke. "You took your time."
Helios exhaled, letting his fatigue bleed into the sound. "Cid agreed."
Her tone sharpened. "The mechanic?"
He nodded. "He'll handle the engineering for the Twilight Heart's computer system."
Kurai chuckled lowly, a sharp sound in the quiet air. "I was listening. You sold it to him as… what did you call it again?" She tilted her head mockingly. "An ark?"
Helios smiled, unbothered. "It was the only way to make him believe in it. Also, eavesdropping is a terrible hobby."
She smirked. "You always were good at playing the manipulator, one of the things I like most about you. Besides, you wanted me to hear it, that's why your heart reached out to mine."
"Funny," he said softly, "I thought you hated having your heart connect to mine. I remember that we both need to be on the same emotional wavelength for such a thing to occur. I was just reminiscing about before, when you were always in my head, listening. That must mean you were too."
Her silver eyes gleamed in the faint starlight. "No, I wasn't, your heart reached out for mine. Anyway, so what now? You finally get your engineer—what's next?"
Helios's expression darkened, gaze lifting to the sky. "We're short on time. Maleficent already gave me the coordinates for the two worlds I asked her to find."
"Ah," Kurai said, her voice a slow drawl. "The items you wanted."
"Exactly. We'll need both before the system's ready."
She leaned against the opposite railing, crossing her legs. "You're thinking of splitting up."
Helios nodded. "It's faster that way. I was thinking of splitting the group in two while I go to the Realm of Darkness by myself."
She snorted softly. "And here I thought you were running low on suicidal tendencies."
Helios didn't respond immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the stars—the same stars that never faded, never rose, never changed. "Ansem the Wise is still trapped there. In the original timeline, he should have escaped on his own. But when I was at Castle Oblivion… the entrance was sealed. No trace of him leaving. Which means…"
"…you'll have to do it yourself," she finished, her tone half amusement, half curiosity.
He nodded once.
Kurai tilted her head. "You hate that, don't you?"
"More than you can imagine," he said. "Every step I take, I realize something—everything I assumed was chance, accident, or destiny… was me."
Kurai smiled faintly, the kind of smile that knew too much. "You're finally seeing it, then. You're not an observer in this story—you are the story. Make you want to rip that blasted creator apart, doesn't it?"
Helios's jaw tightened. "Yes, it does. I didn't come here to play fate's puppet."
"Soon," she said. "We'll be the ones writing our own story outside his control."
He looked at her, the night wind brushing through his dark hair. "We can only hope so. Because if not, then we can only accept that everything we do is preordained. That we are always meant to fall in this world."
Kurai's eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the lamplight below. "Maybe, but I've always believed that the world didn't write you in. Maybe you wrote yourself in. The difference is irrelevant—you're here now, and together we will achieve our goal."
Helios exhaled through his nose, half a sigh, half a laugh. "You'd make a terrible motivational speaker."
"I'd make an excellent one," she said with a smirk. "I just prefer the truth ugly."
He turned back toward the stars, silent for a moment. The night wind shifted, carrying the faint hum of machinery and the soft laughter of a distant Moogle dreaming in its sleep.
"You know what bothers me most?" Helios said quietly. "Not that I'm changing the story. It's that I might be the reason it ever worked."
Kurai raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," he murmured, "maybe I didn't fall into this world at all. Maybe this world existed this way because I was always here."
For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the wind and the faint ringing of the clock tower in the distance filled the silence.
Kurai finally broke it. "Then I suppose you should stop pretending to hate your role and give in."
Helios gave a tired smile. "You sound like Maleficent."
"Never make such a comparison," Kurai said casually. "If you do, then I will kill you."
He chuckled softly, then straightened, pushing off the railing. "Get some rest. I'll leave instructions before I go."
Kurai tilted her head. "When do we leave?"
"Maybe in a few days," Helios replied. "I'll take the Realm of Darkness. You'll go after the first world with Skuld, while Aqua and the rest handle the second world."
She nodded slowly. "And the boy?"
Helios glanced through the terrace window where Thalen slept, peaceful and unbothered. "He should stay. He needs more time. But I'll feel better if Aqua's group has a person capable of opening a dark corridor, so Thalen has to go."
Kurai's expression softened, just a fraction. "You're getting sentimental."
"I'm getting tired," he corrected. "There's a difference."
She gave a faint smirk. "You should sleep before you start philosophizing again."
Helios chuckled. "If only sleep worked on guilt."
With that, he turned back toward the room. Kurai lingered for a moment longer, her eyes on the stars that never changed, the world that never saw dawn. Then she followed him inside, the door closing softly behind them.
The stars above Traverse Town stayed fixed and silent—unchanging, unyielding—while the man beneath them quietly wondered whether he was building machines or inevitabilities.
The thoughts kept looping, like corrupted code—fate, choice, causality—but fatigue finally silenced them.
As Helios lay on the bed, he felt Kurai lie next to him, but he didn't bother to open his eyes and drifted off to sleep. There were so many problems he'd have to deal with tomorrow, but for now he just needed to rest both his mind and body.