The rift in the deck widens until the entire stern of the Blackjack falls with a thunderous crack of metal and wood. Celes’ hand slips out of his; she hits the falling deck below, rolling out of sight as it disappears. The last Locke sees of her is a flutter of her now grungy, tattered white cloak.

The rest of the airship crumbles beneath him, around him. Terra grabs hold of him, and for a moment they tumble together amidst a shower of sparks. Then the airship is swallowed whole by the clouds below, and Locke is amazed to find himself jerked upward, held aloft by her sheer force of willpower.

For several long moments, they glide above the clouds; but Locke knows she can’t keep it up for long – she’s struggling to counterbalance his weight, and her glow flickers as he drags her down.

He wants to tell her he’s sorry for getting her wrapped up in all of this. He wants to tell her he’s proud of her. He wants to kiss away the tears glistening in her eyes as she watches the horizon start to burn, wants to shield her from the horrors that he promised would never come to pass. But he can’t hear past the rush of wind and the thunder of blood coursing through his ears.

He does the only thing he can for her, and lets go.