Zexion felt his heart sink as Aizen told them of what had gone on since their return to the Desert Palace.

If he had felt hollow before, now he just felt sick. No survivors. The political world in disarray. A city built on stilts now at its knees, never to rise again. He knew full well what high concentrations of Mako meant and that it could be years, centuries, before any land poisoned by it could be considered habitable again.

He remembered the Reactors blowing as the power surged through them. The others must have heard the noise, witnessed the explosions and felt the blasts, but he had felt it course through him as he activated the Transmutation Circle that was he city's upper plate. He was never just an observer, like the others were, he was he epicentre of it all. He had done more than witness the fall of a city, he had felt all of those people die and was all so much worse knowing that the city itself could now not be entered, that it could never be rebuilt and that no blame could ever be placed at his feet.

It was certainly a good thing as far as Khamja was concerned, but it weighed heavily on the heart he was not yet used to having back.