Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VI/III, any of it's people, places or things. I do own the story plot line in this short piece of writing.
Torched
Flames surround the city. Shrieks of pain fill the night air. Smoke fills the lungs of the villagers who scramble for their lives.
This is what I see. This is what I have done. I know not why this gives me such satisfaction, to see them scrambling for their survival. I know not why I feel sorrow for their plight. I force myself to look on, look on at the carnage dealt by my hand. I must look, for it is the only thing I see.
My eyes try to slowly tear; I let them. If need be I can say it was the smoke's rampage on my senses that did so. My eyes are fixed on a child crying in their mother's arms.
The soldiers stand at my sides; some cackling at our handy work, some looking on with disgust. I notice some are looking at me with the same disgust, for I show no sign of caring for these creatures.
I was told to do this, told to do this by the Emperor. I feel nothing for these creatures, for they were a threat to his goal. My duty is far more important than my emotions; for I will not show any sign of wavering in front of my troops.
I will not show the men under my lead that a female general is a weak one. I will not let my body shake, my stomach lurch. I will not cringe, for a soldier does not cringe.
I was told to do this. I was told to do this by my liege. I can't feel remorse or pity for these creatures, for that would brand me as a traitor.
My soldiers turn to me. They ask for my orders. I tell them to mount their steeds and return home.
And so we mount our yellow feathered steeds; my mind racing with my duties as general and my supposed moral compass.
I feel pity and sorrow for those creatures…for those people. But I slowly let that feeling fade.
I am General Celes Chere, magitek knight, Queen of ice. I do not feel.