I don't own anything. ;;

NOTE: Takes place 9 years prior to the start of Star Ocean: Till The End Of Time

The sting was what tore him from the darkness, even though he had no idea he was asleep.

As young Albel Nox struggled to remember when he'd even laid down to sleep, another wave of pain shot through his left arm, forcing his eyelids into a violent struggle open and view his surroundings.

Albel's vision slowly emerged from a black fog of sleep, and focused on the rich, red hue of the ceiling above him. Along with the overbearing sting that completely encased his left arm, a pang of anxiety surged through him – the ceiling of Albel's bed chamber was not red.

As his mind fought through the cloud of sleep to recognize where he was, Albel's body felt like a pile of bricks: cold, immobile, and completely unfeeling...except for his arm. The longer he was awake, the worse it stung.

What the hell's this?

Upon glancing down to look over his ailing limb, Albel noticed through blurry vision that thin bedsheets were pulled up almost past his chin, and his arm was completely out of sight. The quick view of the furniture, however, was all he needed to jog his memory.

Woltar's mansion. What the hell am I doing here?

His left arm wouldn't move. But then again, neither would the rest of his body...but at least he could feel his muscles tighten, complaining and refusing to move at his will. His arm was different. He felt the incessant, non-stop sting though his elbow, his forearm, shooting out his fingertips...but he couldn't feel it.

He felt the pain burning through his palm, his wrist...but why couldn't he feel his arm?

What the hell is going on?

Suddenly, adrenaline and heat rushed through his cheeks. His father – where was he? Why did he want to see him so much? Why was it so important?

Albel's heart beat faster the more he thought of it. Father...where's... He needed to see his father––

"Alright, Boy?"

Without much effort, Albel's head snapped to the side of his bed to find the source of the familiar voice, his wide-eyed gaze resting on Count Woltar.

"W-wol...?" Albel's throat was parched and his mouth dry, forcing the teen to stare at him with confusion. He glared at him for a moment, then partially rolled his eyes. Figures the old coot would be reclining quite comfortably in his chair, as if he'd been there for hours...

Woltar cocked his head, examining Albel for a moment. "Thirsty? You've been out for a while."

Out for a while? Albel tried to demand the old man to explain what in the hell he was talking about, why he was there, why his arm felt like it was on fire, but his throat wouldn't have any of it. Instead of speaking, he fell into a coughing fit. Before he could properly regain his composure, he felt Woltar's hand slide under his head, who propped his anchored body up just enough to shove a pewter mug into his mouth. The water which flooded his mouth was more than welcome, and Albel downed every ounce as quickly as he could, all the while making sure he didn't appear too grateful, too helpless.

Albel used every ounce of strength he had in him to jerk his head from Woltar's helping hand, snarling at him in the process. "Woltar," Albel finally spoke. His voice was harsh and raspy. "What do you mean by 'out for a while?'"

The old man's eyebrows furrowed. "You've been unconscious for seven days."

Seven days!

"What happened – why am I here!" Albel paused, then remembered... "Where's my father?"

Woltar's face was expressionless for a few moments before it melted into a solemn frown. "...Your father isn't here, Albel."

"Tch! Obviously not! Where is he? Why aren't I––"

Woltar cut him off. "Do you remember anything?" His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

Ordinarily, Albel would have disregarded Woltar's question and continued pressing about his father, but the question made him realize he truly did not remember a thing before he...before he what?

Albel swallowed, again trying to move but failing. He looked to Woltar, his face full of confusion and worry. "I...don't."

Woltar turned his back to him, completely silent while he ran a hand down his face. It was odd; Woltar wasn't a man who lost his composure easily.

Then, he felt it; the searing pang, the wave of fire running up and down his left arm. Albel fought against his body's exhaustion to look to his arm; to do what, he didn't know. To make it stop hurting? Anything... "M-my arm, why–"

"Don't try to move around right now, you're far too weak for that."

The word only made his arm sting more.

Woltar turned back to Albel. His face was once again expressionless. "You don't remember anything before you woke up here?"

A chill surged through Albel's spine as bits of memories flashed before him. I was going...somewhere...with my father – and others – Barr Mountains?..."

"The Accession..." Woltar murmured hesitantly.

His memory was still hazy, but things started making sense. It had been 5 a.m., and Albel was traveling through Barr Mountains to the Urssa Lava Caves for his Accession of the Flame ceremony. His father, Captain of the Dragon Brigade, accompanied him along with several of his best men -- including that fool of a lieutenant, Duke Vox.

But that was all he remembered. Albel couldn't recall the outcome of the ceremony...but for some reason the thought of the ceremony made a cold sweat break out across his brow. He must have been injured, which explains his present state...but why...

"Woltar," Albel muttered, managing to finally shift his weight slightly, onto his right arm. The flex of muscle in his left arm sent a jolt of pain through him so strong, his lungs froze and Albel struggled to regain his composure. But he was alive, so wasn't the outcome of the ceremony obvious? "Woltar, the Accession of the Flame – I'm still alive, so––"

Woltar shook his head as Albel spoke to him. "No, Boy. I'm not going to cushion it for you – you failed."

"Failed?"

Albel could hardly force the word from his throat. Failed! I failed! I'm still alive, I––

The surge of adrenaline supplied Albel with the strength he needed to sit up, but not without consequence. The burn in his left arm shot through his shoulder and to the back of his head, causing him to double over and his vision to go completely white.

"Boy, I told you! You're not fit to be moving around." Woltar put a hand on Albel's back while settling another on his shoulder, trying to force the teen to lay down again. But Albel's body stiffened...somehow, Woltar's touch cleared his mind for a short second...

My father. It all made sense now. He had to see him because...

I failed.

"...Albel, you were gravely injured during..."

I failed, and my father was there to watch.

"...If it wasn't for Glou, you would..."

He probably SAVED me...despite being a failure...why?

"...forcibly put you under so you could recover without any pain..."

And that's why he's not here. Because I failed.

"W-woltar!" Albel stuttered through the sting. "I n-need to find – my father! Where is he?"

I have to apologize to him. That's why it's so important...

Woltar sighed. "Albel, you can't––"

"Damn it, Woltar! Where the hell––"

Albel cut himself off mid-sentence as his right hand grasped nothing but air.

Nothing but air...

The pain was so bad, instinct took over, and Albel reached across his lap to grasp his stinging left wrist. But he grasped nothing but air.

Without looking, Albel attempted to slap his hand into his left forearm, but it seemed to sink completely through his arm, and his hand it the mattress instead. As if...as if nothing was there...

There was a soft ringing in his ears as Albel dropped his gaze to the side of this body, unsure of what he expected to see, but it surely wasn't anything he could have ever imagined.

Every ounce of blood in his body rushed to his face as Albel realized what he was seeing, then it just as quickly rushed out as he realized what he was seeing was real. His left arm, from the elbow down, was gone.

But he could feel the pain in his hand...his wrist...his entire arm...it's gone? It's gone!

Albel sprung from the bed to his feet, opening his mouth to say something, anything...nothing came out but a guttural wail of agony and horror.

The sound of his own scream ignited every memory he had of the failed Accession, replaying all of them at once. His scream began to sound less like his own and more like his father's...his father's incoherent scream as the dragon passed his judgment onto his only son...

"Your hubris shames you, little mortal. Your shame shall be rewarded with death."

...The sound of his father's blood-curdling scream as Albel lay beneath his burning body...

My father is dead.

Albel collapsed to his knees as he felt the bile rise in his throat, and everything went black.