It was cool, and the wind smelled of dryness, and of antiquity, and of dust-- and something else. Duo Maxwell breathed in deeply, trying to   hold the elusive scent long enough to identify it, but it defied him and escaped in his exhaled breath.

      The moon was high-- it was almost midnight. It sparkled down upon the pale desert sand, turning the endless dunes into waves of silver with its radiance. Duo took another deep breath, and then lowered his head.

      "You an' me, we had some times, eh?" he addressed his silent companion.

      A gust of wind blew strands of hair into his eyes. Patiently, he pushed them back.

      "Yeah, we had some times, but things change. The war is over."

      His companion made no motion, no sound.

      Duo sighed. "People change, too. It's the way life is, y'know? Sometimes... you gotta just move on. Take what life gives ya and try to make somethin' of it."

      There was no response, but he hadn't been expecting one. Another gust of wind sprang up, and Duo thought he could smell faint traces of smoke on it, fleeting and insubstantial and gone before he could be fully sure.

      "The others," he said, "they agree with me. This is for the best. It's time to move on."

      Silence, except for the whisper of the wind.

      "Goodbye, old friend," Duo said, his tone a mixture of regret and relief, sadness and hope. "This is where we part ways forever."

      And with that, he held out his hand and pressed the trigger.

      Deathscythe Hell exploded into a million fragments, each one a twisted piece of Duo's soul. Fire consumed them, ravenous, and the ebon smoke   put forth by its hunger ghosted across the sand, drawn by the wayward wind.

      A tear trickled down Duo's cheek, unnoticed. He smiled, very slightly. "These are the winds of change..." Then he turned and walked away from the blaze, the wind at his back, the moon lighting his way, and nothing to stop him but his own fears.

      He'd never let them stop him before. He wasn't about to let them now.