On a rock in the sky, the world was peaceful.

Adrift after the Calamity that rent the very land itself, turning an entire nation to ash and fragments, the Bastion still floated, a safe haven even in such difficult times…

Of course, peaceable moments tended not to last long these days, and this one was ended when a kid shot out of the heaven, faceplanting on a mercifully soft bed of grass just outside the square of the Bastion itself.

The last journey before this whole ordeal was over, before the Bastion could finally do its purpose… it was about to begin.

The Kid glared up at the idols in the shrine. Honestly, he didn't know why he'd bothered putting the damn place up; apparently the Bastion needed it to be here, but he certainly didn't care; the gods had never given him any kind of peace, to be sure.

One by one, the Kid cursed each god, listing their sins and judging them; other than Rucks and Zulf, he was the last one alive who knew them, so they better fucking listen now.

Pyth, the cranky old bull, god of Order and Commotion. No Order around any more; hell, barely any Commotion either; just scraps of Caelondia floating on air.

Acobi, the chained maid, goddess of Oath and Abandon. And hell yes did the gods Abandon them, Oath or no. And her precious shackles hadn't prevented some damn idiots from blowing the world to hell…

Yudrig, that glowing pile of horsemeat, god of Impulse and Bravery. Well some assholes had certainly listened to a damn stupid Impulse before the world went to hell, and the Kid would rather rely on his own Bravery than some skittish pony's…

Lemaign, the Mason King, god of Hope and Despair. His King's betrayal still stung the Kid deeply. Despair was everywhere; Zulf had it in spades, all the Ura did. Only Zia and Rucks seemed to be holding onto Hope anymore…

Garmuth, the foolish cripple, god of Purpose and Folly. Where was his vaunted wisdom now? Caelondia's Folly had made this mess, and set the Kid's hellish Purpose for these past weeks…

Olak, the Carefree Child, god of Chance and Whimsy. While most wouldn't blame a child, the Kid was no older than Olak supposedly was. And the Kid figured if he had to struggle through and Chance his life so often, Olak could have put aside his damn Whimsy and grown the fuck up.

Roathus, the fat bastard, god of Thirst and Plenty. Caelondia had Plenty enough for its people, until some assholes who had a Thirst for blood and victory decided to try and fight an enemy long-defeated, and now there was no one left to share the 'victory feast' with…

Jevel, sealed up in his tower, god of Health and Atrophy. After seeing so many people the Kid once knew Atrophy into statues of dust, the fact that a lucky few like the Kid and Zia were still Healthy didn't prevent him from cursing the old Tower Keeper.

Hense, the scarred bitch, goddess of Pain and Pleasure. His life before had been full of Pain; the only person in Caelondia's centuries of history to take two tours on the Rippling Walls. His mother dead after his first tour, his money suddenly gone, the only constant friend his hammer of all things… the bitch could take her Pleasure and go fuck a Stabweed.

The kid crossed his arms, feeling the power of the other gods simmer in anger at his defiance, their displeasure thick on the air; he revelled in it, smirked at their disapproval as he turned to the last idol-

-and paused.

Micia. The Lorn Mother.

Goddess of Loss and Longing.

The stone, serene face of the Mother looked down on him, and the Kid strained to say something. To tell her off, yell, shout, raise his middle finger and declare her a harlot and fool like the rest.

But the idol's serene expression forced him to stop, and his eyes travelled downward to her personal crest; the Star of Caelondia, the same as the old city crest that was strapped to his back, calling the shattered paths back together wherever he walked in this Calamity.

Those stone eyes, more than anything, saying that they understood.

Loss and Longing. The Kid sure as hell knew both. But he was still here. And so was the Mother.

The Kid stared at the idol for a moment longer before letting out a whoosh of breath, and gave the idol a slight nod. The other idols flared in jealousy, but a soothing hush took over the Shrine moments later.

The Kid quickly turned around, shouldering his hammer and bow as he marched out for one final flight on the winds. And if he felt a warm hand on his shoulder for a moment, he never said a thing.