Kenshin looked at the stars. He felt so very tired as if all the years of his long life were suddenly pressing down on him from above. His breath came slowly, but it was uneven and ragged. He wondered, idly how long it had been since he simply looked at the stars. Not for any reason in particular, but just a passing glance to admire them. If he could not even remember doing such a thing then it could have been centuries. He was old, too old. He had no idea how his mother managed to cope with the pressure of the ages. Even he did not know how old she was.

"It would have been better if she never raised me," he thought. "I should have been left to raise myself, as bonded spirits do." He shivered. He felt cold. An image flashed across his mind.

Chihiro's face, frozen in shock. Had she truly believed him incapable of such a thing? He sighed, breath bubbling. Not his finest moment. There was no honour in leaving her to die slowly, but he had done what he had to. Still, he felt angry she had been driven to do such a thing. He had grown fond of her. She was harmless really; a poor weak child trying to do what she had been told was the right thing. It was a shameful act he had committed, but it was not his shame alone. His mother had driven a woman with child to stand against him. His mother's hands were just as stained with her blood, perhaps more so. He turned his thoughts from Chihiro. The spell was all that truly mattered.

He was not concerned about his spell. Haku could blast it to its component materials and it would still fulfil its purpose. The spell was self-sustaining now; it would survive. Kenshin had been surprised by the dragon's power. The face Kohaku presented to the world was a mere façade. The dragon may rule over an underground lake, yet if he wished, he could seize control of an ocean. However, the dragon was seemingly content with his lake, his bathhouse and his human. Or rather he had been until Kenshin had killed his mate. The dragon would likely go insane with grief and cause another wave of chaos in the joined worlds.

"I should have forced him to change form when I captured him," Kenshin thought. "I would have seen what he was. I could have drained him faster and had the spell completed in half the time." Hindsight was a wonderful thing. It did not matter, the spell was finished. He would have liked to have seen the new world. He would have helped it through its painful and bloody birth. It would have given him another purpose, something his life had lacked until he committed himself to reunification. His breath shuddered. He was not going to last much longer. He considered what he would face next. He did not fear his death; he was actually finding the process interesting, though he could have done without so much pain. This was something of which had no experience. He had caused the death of others, and now he was to experience the process himself. He hoped reincarnation did not await him; his weary soul needed a rest.

"I'm so tired," he whispered.

"Then perhaps you should have stayed asleep," said a melodious female voice that sent a chill down his spine. He turned his head to see his mother standing barefoot in the sands of his desert. For once she wore simple work clothes, her black hair, glossy and shiny, so unlike his own dark hair that had never reflected the light. Her purple eyes showed little emotion but he knew her even better than her current mate did. He knew she felt pity for him and his hatred of her almost stopped his already faltering heart.

"You better be an illusion," he spat, blood spotting his lips. A black eyebrow rose slightly but otherwise, her face was expressionless.

"Perhaps I am real, what would you do if I were real?" she asked calmly.

"Then I will rip your throat out!" he hissed.

A second black eyebrow rose to join the first, disbelief fluttering over her perfect features.

"I think that is highly unlikely to happen in your current condition," she countered gently.

He snarled at her.

"The spell is complete mother," he growled, ignoring the pain it caused in his mutilated chest, voice dripping with scorn. She was the only one who could ever make him feel such rushes of emotion, yet another reason for him to hate her. "Enjoy your final days!"

"You truly think that will happen?" she asked softly. "Do you think me so easily destroyed?"

"When the rift is gone, so will you be," he snapped. She was trying to test his resolve, make him question himself one final time. "Your tool is dead and the dragon cannot undo the spell," he jeered. "You have but a few days. Go and spend the time wisely, do not waste it on your prodigal son."

"You are part of my family," she replied, still speaking in a maddeningly cool tone. "Who else am I to spend my last hours with?"

"Bitch!" he snarled, bearing his teeth, "Play the wounded victim if you choose, but we both know your true nature." He turned his head, refusing to look at her; he looked back to the stars instead.

"Just leave," he breathed. "Go and contemplate your death elsewhere."

He nearly screamed in rage when he heard her feet shuffle closer through the sand.

"My true nature?" she asked. "Yes," she said after a brief pause. "We both know how cruel I can be, how I have had to make decisions that pain me for the betterment of all. I never suspected my actions would cause you to set yourself against me and I certainly never sought your death as you have sought mine."

He actually choked on his indignation. He wheezed and coughed, then swallowed so he could speak.

"Lying whore!" he gasped. "The three assassins you sent are evidence to the contrary."

"Assassins?" she murmured incredulously. "You think I sent assassins?"

"I eventually got your name from the one I let live. Truth spells don't lie, neither does torture," he gasped.

"That's debatable," she commented coldly. "If the assassin was convinced the orders were from me then it would be my name given. This sounds very like a plot to quickly sour what was already a... strained relationship."

"SILENCE!" he yelled, turning to her once more. He almost managed to sit up but collapsed. He could not breathe! He calmed himself, resolving not to speak to her again. She would make his final moments bitter. He would not give her that satisfaction.

He heard her approach him once more and he almost whimpered as a memory flashed before him. He was barely two centuries old and had fallen when trying to run. She had held him tightly, told him how brave he was. She healed his injuries with a gentle touch then rocked him to sleep, his cheek resting on her shoulder. How had things come to this? When had he begun to hate her? When did he become an embarrassment to her? It was long ago, these memories, like most of those from his childhood, were eroded and worn to transparency with the passage of time. He could not grasp what was left, he was too weak now to focus.

He felt hands slide under his legs and upper back. Before he could comprehend what was happening, he was lying in his mother's arms for the first time in millennia. He immediately resented the comfort she was trying to give him.

"Put me down!" he growled angrily. Sad purple eyes stared down at him. It was the only reply she gave. Rage flooded him, but he could do nothing to express it, his body was weak and ripped to shreds. He had lost much of his blood and his breath was rattling in his chest. His anger made him cruel. He took as deep a breath as he could and spat in his mother's face.

He watched in morbid fascination as blood and saliva dribbled down the bridge of her nose and over her cheek. She closed her eyes. He felt that she would surely drop him, but she did not. Her indigo eyes opened again and she smiled down at him. He was truly shocked when he saw tears running from her eyes.

"You are right to hate me," she said at last. "I was very hard on you. I honed you into something I could use. When I realised how strong you had become I tightened my grip on you lest you escape me. I could not let you go, you were mine." She moistened her lips; she did not bother to wipe her face. "I changed when I ascended to be a guardian. I saw more, knew more. I knew immediately that I had mishandled you. I had twisted my love for you with my ambition, held you too tightly and damaged you in the process..." her voice faltered but she pressed on. "The revelation came too late, you already hated me."

He stared up at her. He should be angry; he should throw her words back in her face. He was amazed to discover he could not. He could not watch her weep and confess her wrongdoing to him and not feel moved. He trembled in her arms. He was bound to her by blood and that bond still had power over him, even after the march of so many centuries. He would be a fool to deny this truth. It was pointless to lie, he was dying. He knew there was no healing from his mother this time. He could tell she was exhausted. She must have pushed herself to her limit to come to him in his final moments. He was touched by her effort, but there would be no reconciliation here, no forgiveness. Their time was at an end and the world would be better for their passing.

The reunited worlds would move forward in the coming millennia. Human and spirit would work together and a prosperous civilisation would be born. This was what was meant to be, what should always have been. He understood his mother was here to try and fix past mistakes, just as he was with his reunification spell. He understood, but he could not grant her wish, even if he desired to. They were out of time.

"You could have tried to make amends long before this..." he said at last. "Your pride would not let you admit you had failed me!" he croaked, his head throbbed and he felt dizzy.

She gave a bitter chuckle.

"Perhaps you are right," she whispered. Her face contorted for a moment, as if she was in pain, then she sighed.

"On my honour," she said in a serious tone. "I never sent assassins. I may have never shown it, but I loved you dearly, even when we were at odds." She freed her left hand and wiped the blood and matted hair from his bitten and clawed face. "I love you even now, even with all the madness...even after...I will always love you."

Kenshin barked a sharp laugh.

"Don't lie," he wheezed.

The goddess watched her son's eyes flutter closed. She heard his breath still and soon after she felt his heart cease to beat. She buried her face in his bloodied chest and held him to her. Her body shook as she wept. Clouds started to roll in, building rapidly and darkening. A howl of grief echoed around the pitiless dunes. The heavens responded with a clap of thunder. The skies opened and rain poured down.

It would rain for many days to come. When the sun finally reappeared, half the glass desert would have become a vast lake. The lake would be saltwater and would never dry up, despite the unrelenting heat of the sun. Future generations would give the mysterious lake a name, the sea of tears. The goddess knew all this, the knowledge was granted to her the instant her son died. She was as much an instrument of fate as any other being; even she could not escape what must be. Yet she cared little for the future at that moment. She mourned her son and felt bitter anger at her own failure. She had always intended to attempt to heal the rift between them. She had been waiting for the right opportunity. An immortal could literally wait forever if they chose to. Now she would spend her forever with the shadow of regret staining her soul. That was if she lived.

Her exhausted secondborn came for her eventually. They buried the body together and in perfect silence. Both knew they had nothing to say that could change the situation. The goddess vowed on the grave of her first son that her second child would never share his half-brother's fate.

A small chubby hand gripped tightly around her little finger. Indigo eyes that were so like her own looked up at her earnestly. She knew the experience of the past few weeks had probably aged her son prematurely but there was nothing she could do about that.

"What do we do now Mamma?" he whispered, yanking at his rain-drenched hair tiredly with his free hand. "Dada will be worried if he wakes up to find us both gone. He's not as strong as we are, he can't join us here."

The goddess smiled at her son's concern. She swept him up into her arms and kissed his rounded cheek.

"We have things to do first," she said with a sigh.

"We're going to fix things?" he asked. She nodded in response. He gave her a gummy smile which did a great deal to begin mending her wounded heart. She would go on; she had to for his sake.

Haku smelt the water before he saw it. Saltwater, the scent stung his nostrils. He had found an ocean. He did not care where he was or which ocean he was approaching, he did not even know which direction he travelled in. He had simply followed the scent of water. He was barely thinking at all. He had shut down most of his conscious thought. It hurt too much to think. If he allowed himself to contemplate what he was being forced to do, then he might not have the strength to do it.

He had to complete her wish. It was all he could do for her. He knew she was not dead yet, but she had no hope of surviving. He had seen her wound and knew that she could not lose that much blood and live. He could have tried to heal her, even if it meant using his life force to do it. What did it matter? She and their daughter were all... he wrenched his mind from thoughts of his child. He had no choice, but that tragic fact would not stop guilt and shame consuming him after his task was completed. Powerful he may be. But even he could be bound by a final wish, especially one made by his own mate.

The smell of brine was now strong in his nostrils. He sighed; even now water had the ability to soothe him. Within its embrace, he would shift into his true form and would leave behind all emotions connected to the physical world. He had a plan and he needed to be at his most powerful to bring it to fruition.

A third of the spell held in his claws was his, composed of his own power. It would still obey him. He was going to use what was his to force out Kenshin's power and accept his own in its place. He was going to make it entirely his spell. After that, he was not exactly sure what was going to happen, but he had a vague idea that if he could not destroy it, he would direct it. There was not much he did not know when it came to magic. Yubaba had taught him well and he had stolen even more knowledge behind her back. It had not been the best way to treat the witch. She had saved him after all. He had been wandering the plains in human form, babbling and confused after the trauma of the separation from his river.

She had taken him in, fed and clothed him, given him a job. Yes, she had controlled him and attempted to keep him ignorant of his true self. He was useful to her and she did nothing without getting something in return. That did not make her evil, just opportunistic and selfish. He had owed her better. He had driven her to take action against him, he saw that now. He had dismissed her as inconsequential, after all, how could a mere witch best him now he was in possession of his full power? Chihiro had warned him about his arrogance, he should have listened to her.

Finally, he could see it. The sun was beginning to rise, painting the black water shades of lilac and silver. He dove. The wind whistled past his ears and he had to close his inner eyelids to protect his sight. The spell was creating a significant amount of drag, pulling him to the left and making his body fishtail in the air. He braced himself and hit the water hard. His body vibrated with the force. The water washed over him, caressed him, sweeping away the chill of the desert night from his bones and the sand and grit from between his scales. He breathed in the liquid, relishing as it swept the dry from his throat. His gills took over, exhaling water behind his ears. After a few breaths, he let go of his dragon form. He became nothingness, pure thought. He commanded the water around him to eddy and the spell was held suspended within the water. The local water sprites were, at first, offended that he was commanding their element in their territory. He reached out to them using his will as a mental whip. They retreated quickly. Nothing would dare confront a dragon in its true form.

He concentrated, flitting through the water but unable to feel it. He turned to every direction of the compass, straining his senses. He needed a connection to his bond place. He found nothing, not even a molecule of the familiar. He did not feel fear, panic or even annoyance. He merely moved, darting through the water as easily as if it were air. He moved outwards in ever-increasing circles. Still, he felt nothing he recognised. He then realised that he was thinking as if he was in his river. This was the ocean, below him was utterly unknown. He would have thought that any water he was familiar with would be in the surface currents as it would float above the saltwater. He stretched out his senses. He was on the edge of a gyre current that circled the entire continent. The swirling water was warm here so rose from the depths, but further north it sank rapidly. His river may not even empty into this ocean. It could take him days to find something to guide him.

However, for once, fate seemed to be on his side. Something was approaching and it was neither hostile nor fearful. He focused on the presence, it was familiar but the sense of overwhelming sadness coming from the being confused him. It was certainly not a powerful creature. It must be brave or a fool to approach him when he was busy with such an important task. Perhaps it was one of those fools that loved and worshipped his kind? He had little tolerance for those sycophants. He ignored the creature and returned to his task. Suddenly he realised why the creature was familiar. It was one of his own, a creature that he had permitted to live within his watery body. It was bound to him. He rushed to greet it. It may know how to find his river. The creature was virtually incoherent with apologies. It seemed to think it had failed him somehow. When he gently inquired as to why it felt this way it explained that it had not been able to prevent the capture of Chihiro.

That name shuddered through Haku's consciousness. He was honour bound to complete his mate's mission. He would do so, as fast as he could and the water horse had just shaved days off the time his plan would have taken. The creature knew its way to his river, which was Haku's only concern. Its sense of failure was immaterial. Something akin to, but not quite like worry clenched at Haku's mind. His river had been separated from him for some time. It was, no doubt, suffering and therefore not at full strength. He needed everything he could muster if he was to grant his mate's final wish. A weak river may sap his energy.

The waterhorse was still babbling its woes and its whines, whinnies and sobs almost irritated his current form's heightened senses. He took the initiative and knocked the spirit out with half a thought then extracted the information he needed from its mind. He left the creature drifting toward the surface on a warm current. It would take the nygel to shore eventually.

The dragon enveloped the spell in a stream of fast-flowing water and directed it eastward. The spell still caused him to travel far slower than he was capable of in his true form.. He raced through the ocean as fast as friction on the spell would allow. The ball of obsidian began to glow hot as the speed of the water moving against it began to heat it.

Suddenly, Haku stopped. He smelt it. It was faint, ridiculously so, a few molecules of water that carried his power, that was all. But it was all he needed. His mind seized on the familiar buzz in the water. It only took a moment. Reconnecting was simple and completely unrepresentative of the pain he had gone through when the connection between him and his river had been severed entirely. He was blessed that he had not gone through the same trauma of being away from his river this time around. He was more experienced now and so was his river. It knew what to do if he was taken from it, how to preserve the connection in a much weaker form. The reconnect still staggered him, his mind had been quiet for some time and he was unused to the extra dimension of thought that the river's consciousness added. His mind flooded with images and information. A torrent of relief and annoyance crashed through him. Where had he been? Why had it taken him so long to contact it? How had he allowed a mere air spirit to capture him? Had he no shame? Their fearsome reputation as a member of the draconic spices was now severely damaged.

If Haku's true form had a face to show expression he would have winced at the scolding. Sometimes his river nagged more than Yubaba had when he worked with her. He began to sort through the information, skimming over the list of complaints quickly. His river had not been able to control an algal bloom in his absence and the water had become stagnant and deoxygenated. It was quite indignant at the ugly green fuzz that floated on its ripples. The fish and crustacean life forms were either leaving or dying. Many of the local spirits he had sheltered had also fled, though the river sheepishly admitted it may have been partially responsible for that. It had got frustrated with the algae and whipped up a few whirlpools to try and at least contain the slime. It had damaged the kappa settlement at the bottom of the lake and almost drowned a few drownies.

Haku despaired. He knew his river was an integral part of what and who he was but it certainly was not the smartest of sentient elements. The river resented that particular thought, but then cooed at him that he was back now and soon their child would be playing in their shallows. The river had already constructed a shallow pool for the child to bathe in. It also coyly offered that the birth could take place within it, less pain for the human and less distress for the child.

Haku coolly told the river the fate of their mate. The connection almost dropped. The river quietly enquired why Haku was in the middle of an ocean alone and not with their mortally wounded mate. It knew he would have a good reason to leave her side. Haku told it of Chihiro's final wish. At first, the river was furious; Haku could feel the waves of rage crashing through his head. He wondered if his house would be still standing when he returned.

Its anger was quickly spent and the river tried to feel their mate through the bond. It panicked when it felt nothing. Haku explained that they would know if Chihiro was dead, she was probably so weak and shocked that her mind would not connect to theirs, besides, distance did weaken the connection. The river calmed and finally focused on its dragon's plan. Through Haku it felt around the spell, assessing it.

It asked if he really wanted to go through with this. There could be something else they could try now that they were linked again. Haku responded with a negative. His way was the quickest way. The river agreed but was not sure it would like the result. They had never wanted to be anything like that. Haku ignored it. All that mattered was completing the spell. He focused his will and began to push.

The goddess stood at the entrance to the fortress her son had built. Her other son held her hand, his purple eyes sweeping over the sight before him. The entrance was all that was left of the fortress. The empty door stood against the night sky, framing it prettily. There was not a single connecting wall left, just heaps of shattered stone and jagged rubble. The Goddess sighed. Why was everything so complicated? She had hoped to have some good come from this, be able to save something.

"Mother?" asked her son.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

"I smell things," his baby face wrinkled as he inhaled the scent laden air. "It smells like daddy's feet in the morning."

The goddesses' lips quirked.

"Sweat," she identified for him. The child nodded and sniffed again.

"I smell... metal too..." he said uncertainly.

"That's the scent of blood," she clarified. Her son frowned but absorbed her wisdom without question.

"There is something else..." he murmured. "Faint and tangy."

"Tears," the goddess said sadly. "Human tears smell differently from ours." She looked at the rubble. "They smell bitterer and more sorrowful somehow..." she said absently. "It's almost like their soul weeps when their body does." She glanced at her son. He was sucking his thumb but was watching her intently, eyes too wise for a child of his age and size.

"Is auntie dead?" he asked. "Is my mate dead?" The goddess tried to keep the scowl from her face. She was not pleased that her son seemed set on a betrothal between himself and Chihiro's daughter before she was even born. Her son was young and it was quite possible he did not understand what he was saying, yet she was becoming less sure as time passed that he was what he seemed to be. At times she felt that he was ageing mentally much more quickly than his body was. She suspected her son was in possession of a very old soul. That could be both a curse and a blessing. She shook off her musings and matched her son's intense gaze.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I feel death here but I am not sure whose it is."

Suddenly the sky crackled with power. Bright red clouds boiled in from the direction of the ocean and it began to rain warm, blood-red water. Kisho shrieked in fear and jumped into his mother's arms. She shushed him and held him close, kissing his smooth cheek and stroking her fingers through his fine hair.

"Hush," she whispered. "Nothing to fear," she sighed. "Just the end of our world."

She could not decide if Haku was insane or just brilliant, probably both. She hoped he could handle the repercussions of his actions.

He had made the spell his own and hastened the process it had started.

The worlds were becoming one.