Unlike Kratos, Lloyd didn't know. The pieces had been there, but his mind had rebelled every time he'd tried to put them together. Rebelled, but couldn't let go of it either, circling, skipping, coming back around, because it couldn't leave well enough alone. He couldn't ignore what he saw with his eyes, though. Couldn't pretend he'd just misinterpreted or misunderstood someone's words. Kratos's ravaged hand was there and plain to see, and just as plain as the fact that that wasn't his Exsphere. Lloyd knew what Kratos's Exsphere looked like. Even in a hall as dark as this, it should have sparkled in the light. His Exsphere was gone, taken, replaced-

-cut out of his hand with precise, straight cuts-

-pain, as a blade sliced into his skin-

They were like his. He hadn't had a chance to look closely at his hand, but somehow he knew the cuts were like his. The same hand had held the knife the same way.

We've already performed this experiment once.

What did you do to them?!

It was just the one.

Only one other person had lost their Exsphere here. Only one other person had suffered what the doctor had done to him. If Kratos's Exsphere was gone, replaced with a fake, then he... They'd... Kratos had... He was...

"No." He couldn't breathe. He shook his head, in denial as his world crashed down. "No! You- You can't be! If you were- Why would you betray us like that?! Why did you-? My father wouldn't have tried to kill me!"