Note: I realize that the canonical names are Sumo and Fiji. However, I do not feel that these names fit the style of the the rest of the game. So I have named them as I saw best.

Soundtrack: Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber. izQsgE0L450

It is over.

Julian is gone from this world, his form dissolved back into the void from whence it came. Of the battle, the only signs are the craters wrought by that vile sorcerer's bastard Mana, and lying amdist them the body of dear Marcus.

I ought to run to him, weeping from release and fear. I ought to fall upon him and pour out the healing kiss of Heaven, the very grace which has saved him so many times before.

I ought to, but lost in this vortex of Mana, I cannot. I can no more escape the snare of this pure energy of creation than I could resist the turning of the Age. Its majestic tranquility pervades my entire being. It is this will, not mine, which drives me forward, serene and controlled as the elf-maidens of yore.

I stretch out a hand, radiant and pale, and the full force of the Urlicht, the Essence that Is, pierces the fallen hero and raises him up. Never before have I known such power, such focused beauty. I would fall to my knees at the wonder of it, but Mana holds me transfixed as limbs untwist and bones set themselves before my eyes.

At last the spell breaks. The Mana leaves me dry, faint, as though there had been a second life within me that was now gone. Marcus, remade, stumbles forward. I collapse into his arms, holding him tight, telling him all I should have said before, in our many weeks together.

"Annia, the tree," he says, pointing behind me.

I push myself off him enough to see what has captured his attention so. The sight before me cuts me deeper than anything Julius had ever done. The Tree of Mana is gone. We had sworn to protect it, fought so hard, and all was for naught.

I cry out, but before the grief can take me in full, I behold a shimmering in the air, and from it emerges that which is, above all, most dear to me. Her hair, once golden and resplendent, is now cut short above her shoulders, and tinged with gray. Her face, weathered now, and lined with worry, still shines with the purity I have known from birth.

"Mother," I say, running to her. "The Tree, it-"

She cuts me off with an upraised hand.

"This is not the first Tree of Mana this world has known, but it is, I fear, the last." Her voice is thin, weary almost, and her eyes glide shut as she speaks.

"Do you remember what I told you when last we spoke, Annia?"

"You said… we are the seeds of the Mana Tree. But I thought-"

"Vandole came closer to victory than any man knows. Their power was fearsome indeed, enough to make young Julius seem a mere tinkerer. But we came to their source, the heart of their power: myself, Bogard, Xaver, Hasim, Lyfir, and other names that I dare not utter. And when the fire of their fury turned to ash, I became the Gemma, for in our desperation had we purged my own mother from this world."

"Mother, what are you saying?"

"You know, Annia. You have always known, yet you fear to see the truth."

I tear my eyes from her, from Marcus. Unwilling to let them see my tears, I stare off the summit of Mount Illusia, down below where tens of thousands dwell.

When at last I look back, my mother is gone.

"Annia," Marcus says, stepping forward.

The girl in me screams at her fate. So cruel, so unfair to be torn from the one she loved once peace at last had been attained. Let her wail, then. Let her howl and curse in her agony. Mana is within me, and I have a duty.

"Marcus." Though I fear my voice will crack, it rings out, smooth and melodious as my mother's. "Never could a woman ask for a more leal Gemma Knight."

"Annia, I swear to you that while I draw breath, the new Tree of Mana shall not fall, nor the shadow of man muddy its waters."

It is from the shimmer in his eyes alone that I can see his turmoil mirrors mine. But his voice does not waver, his head does not bow, his back does not bend. It is for this, above all, that I love him.

I approach, steps made steady by both the force of my will, and the Mana which even now begins to stir within me.

"And I am certain that you will hold to this. You must. You are the only Gemma Knight for the Tree now. Good-bye."

Pushing myself up with my toes, my lips brush against his forehead, plastered as it still is with sweat and blood. A gentle kiss; our first—and our last.

Even as we touch for the final time, I begin to give myself over to the Gemma. My roots grow deep, and the veil of reality shatters before me as my mind exalts.

Fare thee well, Marcus! Never before has so much depended upon so few. Stay true, my Gemma Knight, and remember the girl you once loved! Fare thee well; eternity is calling.