Only a page or so left to go, all had been documented from the time he first came to realize his existence, to the last floors of Memoria. The past year had been quiet, the magic or science, or whatever a person referred to it as, that had made him was duplicated and versions of himself trotted about the town. The other mages were content to leave their lives to the younger generation, whom they hoped would live much longer. So much was still new to them, how could awareness be taken away from them so quickly? None of the mages ever really tried to understand, enjoying what was their home. Vivi believed there was no true answer, and that it was best to keep what they had close until the inevitable end. Perhaps that's why he had written down what brief life he had, though most could never claim to have done as much as he had.
We traveled down the inside of the trunk, facing strange flying beasts, stone trees, and the living dead. As we descended, the walls of the tree became bright green, light almost flowing from the living being that from the outside looked like a beautiful shrine, as the dwarves called it. When we could no longer descend, a voice found its way to our minds. This was the master of the Iifa Tree, the controller or the mist that flowed to our continent, and though it said nothing could destroy it, the mist stopped flowing, and on some level we believed we had killed the very heart of the tree. He glanced through a few of the passages, remembering his time with the people he held closest.
Picking up the quill again he felt his eyes flicker, today had been unusually tiring. He still had his good and bad days, but the bad days seemed to come much more often now. Best to finish what was left to write than wait another day, he doubted that he could last much more than a month, even if he could tell that to no one else.
I always talked about you, Zidane. How you were a special person to us, because you taught us all how important life is. You taught me that life doesn't last forever. That's why we have to help each other and live to the fullest. Even if you say goodbye, you'll always be in our hearts. So, I know we're not alone anymore. Why I was born... How I want to live... Thanks for giving me time to think. To keep doing what you set your heart on... It's a very hard thing to do. We were all so courageous... What to do when I felt lonely... That was the only thing you couldn't teach me. But we need to figure out the answer for ourselves... I'm so happy I met everyone... I wish we could've gone on more adventures. But I guess we all have to say goodbye someday. Everyone... Thank you... Farewell. My memories will be part of the sky. He scrawled the last letters out, hiding inside his own signature the names of everyone that had come to mean something to him, most of all Zidane.
Vivi leaned back against his chair, surrounded by the stacks of books the mages had come to call a library. The silence could not hold the weight that Vivi felt as he placed each piece of parchment in order, the last page staying out as he attempted to organize what had been an amazing adventure, truly his only regret was that the one most that had most guided him was the one he would never see again. A slight wet spot formed upon the final page, in a corner where no one would notice it as the Black Mage shuffled it into its place as well. The scholars would bind it here, and then it would go to the Alexandria library.
As the years would pass, would they call it history, a novel? And like so many stories with truth, would they be distorted by the hands of those that copied it until it was a legend? A story of something that had happened, only bearing much more weight than they had on their shoulders as they quested. Had they known they would save the world and all of existence when they set out? No. But time would change their figures to gods among simpler beings, seeing the wrongs in the world, and setting out with full intent of protecting the very right to live. Vivi had to admit that it sounded much exciting that way, but the truth was what he favored, and so that was what he wrote.
He hopped off his chair, thick stack in his arms. The librarian sitting at the desk next to him would bound and seal the epic tale, and carry it by hand across the sea. There the scholars of Queen Garnet's castle would begin to make the first copies, which Vivi would never see, and he knew that. It was a step to trust the old men with what was a memoir of his life, but time did not allow for fear and indecision. The world would do with the work what it wanted, as it did with all other things.
Vivi walked slowly out, leaving behind his quill and ink, deciding it was now time to spend his last remaining days with the ones that deserved the most of him. He had already sacrificed so much time with his children for the epic, but it was a choice he would burden himself with only a bit, life had taught one lesson now that it came to such a quick end, there was no time for regret, though somewhere inside he wished to apologize for anything and everything he could.
The young black mages swarmed around as he timidly drew their attentions. Magic lessons, stories, or anything else that they wanted from him was what Vivi had chosen to give until he no longer woke, it was the least they deserved from the one they called father.