"Until There's Nothing Left of Us"
Author's Note: This side-story takes place in between the main installments of the Third Sorceress War series. The only reason why it's being published now is that I just got around to finishing it. The timing puts this after "The Fated Children", as seen below, but before "Elegy." The situation outlined here also connected to the lore of the Third Sorceress War series and my expansions / modifications upon the world of FF8, as well as some things I didn't mention. The story and the chapters are all named after Kill Hannah songs. I would like to dedicate this one to user Prasino45, whom has followed this series, and all the others who've read thus far.
1
"Is Anyone Here Alive?"
(Blind to what makes this thing beautiful.)
(TWO YEARS AFTER THE DOWNFALL OF SORCERESS EDEA – NOW.)
The rough soil under her sandals made a scraping sound, now alien to her; as alien as the yellow sundress with floral designs on it that surrounded her body. Not hearing the sound of combat boots on the ground, not feeling the nylon lining of the serge wool uniform felt strange, but nice. Her legs felt freer, her steps somehow easier, but she also felt more exposed. But she straightened her hat, brushed a stray strand of chestnut hair from her once-brilliant green eyes and continued.
Centra was exceptionally bright today, even though for those who had never lived there, it would probably be written off as cloudy with a chance of rain. The perpetually gray skies of the island didn't bother her. It reminded her of when she was a child, when the world was full of wonders.
When the worst thing that could happen was Zell snitching on them, and being grounded as a result.
Nostalgia clawed at her heart as Selphie walked on, her steps slow but determined, towards the flower field.
It was a wonder that all kinds of flowers were able to thrive under the harsh conditions and infertile ground of Centra. She would go so far as to call it a miracle. She had suspected, ever since she was a child, that Matron being a sorceress had something to do with it, and Selphie had loved her all the more for it. Now, standing right at the edge of the wonderful landscape painted in every color she knew, Selphie knew better.
Magic didn't work that way. Magic didn't create, it destroyed. Para-magic was just a weaker form of destruction, and black magic, well... it was destruction itself, pure.
Still, she couldn't help but wish that it worked that way after all. She had earned the right.
Five steps into the flower field, Selphie bent over to removed her sandals. She didn't want to just kick them off and then lose them in the colorful mess of the gravesite. With the fresh ground under her bare feet, and leaves gently caressing her legs, she continued to walk. She didn't need a map to find what she was looking for; she had put it there herself.
She had dug the grave two years ago, almost to the day.
The headstone was carved from one of the suitable rocks taken from the wavebreakers. Extracted, shaped and had the words etched in by Ward Zabac's strong hands. He had let Selphie in on a secret as he had done it. The others hadn't been able to stomach being in the same room as the stones, but Selphie, always curious, had gone in to take a look. Ward had told her, in his own quiet language of gestures that he already had three of them stashed in Esthar. One for him, one for Kiros and one for Laguna.
He had gotten to lie beneath his about a year after that. Selphie remembered, as she set her sandals down, that Sir Laguna was now the only living member of their trinity.
Trinity. Such an ugly word.
Three parts of a whole. What a joke.
Selphie tucked her legs to her side as she sat down. One hand reached out to caress the letters. The stone was smooth, smoother than she thought was possible.
EDEA KRAMER
LOVING WIFE
MOTHER TO THE ORPHANS
BELOVED SORCERESS
"Hello, Matron." Selphie said. She sighed. She could feel tears welling up, and knew that it was okay now. Here, she could. She could just let it go, and nobody would know the things she would tell her dead mother.
"I have nowhere else to go." She said, "Such a shit thing to say, I know. Then again, I am pretty shit myself, so... it evens out. I know what you're thinking: I could talk to any of them. Seifer, Quistis... hell, even Brea. Squall, maybe. But I can't. Everybody's got a cross to bear. My shit isn't as important as theirs. Between trying to make this world a better place and trying to hold everything together, there's just no room to breathe anymore. Hyne... it sounds so pathetic."
There it was. One more word, maybe two, and she could cry like she had been trying to do for a while now.
"And maybe it is, but it's worse than when we killed you."
There it was. A teardrop.
"You were my mother. I never told you that. Whenever I tried to picture my mother's face, it'd always be you. I used to do that sometimes, you know – I made up a family. I'd stitch them together from stories and newspapers, the ones White SeeD dropped off at our door every day. And every time, in every family, you would be my mother. Mister Cid would be my father, but he'd be off working, and you'd complain about it, but we loved him anyway. And what did I do, in the end? I killed you."
Selphie wiped her tears with the back of her hand. There'd be more, she knew, because it was time to get to it.
"And now I'll never know all the things that you felt, all the things you thought about when you looked at us just standing there, our weapons in hand, coming to kill you. Holy Hyne, Matron, I... I..."
Say it. It's time to make it real.