for azurefishnets on AO3 for the chocolate box exchange
She lost herself in endless fires and blizzards. Smoke and clouds blinded her. No wind broke her fall nor did a single voice comfort her in the surreal solitude. Terra closed her eyes and curled up into herself; it was as if her soul wished to tear itself from her physical form.
Then it all vanished. She pried her eyes open and gasped. Memories flooded her. For the first time in far too long, she remembered.
Ignoring the shambles of a room she resided in and her allies crowding the bed, Terra focused on the glowing shard hovering before her. A red gem pulsed in its center like a heart. Wide eyes regarded the magicite with nothing but awe.
She opened her hands and the magicite settled into her palms. Warmth washed over her skin, leaving prickles and chills in its wake. Terra sorted her thoughts, drew in a breath, and spoke, "Who... are you?"
Again the magicite pulsed. Again the images flashed in her mind: a muscular creature, neither man nor beast, with bronzed skin, polished horns, and hair no different from hers.
A voice chimed past her chaotic thoughts. "I'm your father."
Her heels shuffled across the floors and echoed down the corridors. Metal lined the foundations of the fortress she grew up in, yet Terra explored without knowing the way. Fingertips grazed the windowsills framing the evening view. No stars hung in the night sky, blotted out by the gas lamps littering the urban streets.
She paused at a window and leaned into the wall. Anxiety plagued her stomach, yet she persisted through the dinner with Emperor Gestahl. Roasted meats and vegetables filled her plate; Terra never lifted her fork. The rest of Vector lied in ruins. Distant screams sought for lost loved ones. And there she was with the man responsible for such atrocities and he ate, oblivious to what his people endured.
It was too late to forgive him for his crimes against the Espers. Terra didn't blame her kind for their violent actions. She almost laughed—her kind. Who was she to believe such a thing? She was but a half-breed belonging to neither world; the Espers were as much a mystery to her as the cold, militant hallways claiming to be her home.
The thought lingered within Terra. She pawed at a belt pouch until the ties loosened and a familiar glow came from within. Holding her breath, she scooped up the magicite and held it before the window.
"I… hope I'm not bothering you, but—" Terra hitched her breath as the emerald glow intensified.
"You are never a bother," the familiar, soothing voice entered her thoughts. "What is the matter, Terra?"
She sighed and curled her fingers around the magicite.
"What was it like?" Her eyes dropped to the floor. "Home… your home, anyways. Tell me about it."
The description he wove for her was like a vivid painting. Magic soaked in every inch of his world—it was in the soil, the air, the sunlight, the food, the fabrics, the laughter, the love of it all. To the Espers, it was as natural as breathing.
Furthermore, there was peace. Even in their differences, various Espers coexisted in balance. Whether ice or fire sparked from their fingertips, it didn't matter; they were gifted with magic and that was enough to cement their mutual bonds.
Terra closed her eyes and imagined a life where she lived in that fairytale. No one to judge her, whether from the magic she danced with or the feral form she shifted to. Maybe if she stayed, then perhaps life would have been different—perhaps she would have found happiness and love.
"Why do you ask?"
She shook her head and fluttered her glossy eyes open. "I wish I knew what it's like to have a home."
That pause worried her more than the stern tone which followed. "Did those humans harm you as a child?"
Her fingers trembled against the magicite. She asked herself exactly that countless times alongside similar questions. Did the Empire treat her well or was she confided to a cramped test tube like her kin? No, I'm not like them, she corrected herself. Each time she dug through her memories, Terra unearthed only more questions in a sea of fog.
"I…" She sniffled and clutched the magicite to her chest. "I don't know."
Distant laughter piqued Terra's curiosity. She strayed from the group to peek around a house on the outskirts of Thamasa and spy upon a child. The boy wiggled his fingers and produced water sprinkles from thin air. The miniature rainstorm he crafted watered the vegetable garden in the backyard. A back door slammed and the water dried up. His mother scolded him for his careless actions before shooting Terra a sharp stare. She shot back around the corner with a gasp.
Surely that was magic, just like the fire which sparked to life from her fingertips. If she approached the child and juggled flames for him, would the mother think differently of her? But I'm not like them, she thought while sliding to the ground. They're neither Esper nor half-Espers. Terra lifted her hands and flexed her fingers. Embers drifted from her palms before dying out in the wind.
That woman's hot gaze still rattled Terra's bones. Was that what people meant when they said phrases like a protective mother? Did a mother need to be protective in order to earn such a title? Was bearing children not enough?
Would the woman who once was her mother act the same?
Terra drew her knees to her chest, plucked out a certain magicite, and held it between her palms. "Maduin?" she whispered past the cracks of her fingers.
A subtle light pulsed back. "My dearest Terra."
"Um… the human woman who entered your world. Madeline, I think?"
"Your mother?"
She flinched. It didn't feel right to call a woman she never met by that name. Same with the soul of the Esper who knew her better than Terra knew herself. I don't deserve to say such things.
Chewing her lip, Terra swallowed back the doubt and found her voice. "What was she like?"
The woman Maduin described was unlike any human Terra encountered. Everyone in her life—from her recollections, anyways—was like a living slab of stone, unyielding and stubborn in their ways. Madeline was soft and compassionate. She valued the emotions of others before her own. She glimpsed at the atrocities humanity was capable of and longed for something better. And she fled from her kin with the intention to find like-minded individuals, be it Esper or human.
Maduin regarded her with nothing but admiration. It swelled in his words like a welcomed breeze in the dead of summer. Was this possibly love?
"I wish I had known her," Terra murmured.
"You wouldn't need to look far," he echoed in her head.
"What do you mean?"
Did he… chuckle? "A mirror is all you need, my dearest Terra. You are her child in soul and mind. To know yourself is to know Madeline. She would be proud to know you were her daughter."
She couldn't blame the Empire for the fresh bout of amnesia. Not this time. Terra remembered the Blackjack splintering beneath her feet and falling and then… nothing. She still recalled her purpose, but the sight of the skies bleeding crimson snuffed whatever hope flickered in her heart.
The children in Mobliz, however, the ones who kept her company while she recovered, would serve as her new purpose. They, too, had nowhere to call home, no parents to return to. Maybe she couldn't save herself, but she could protect the ones who deserved a better life.
But in time, even that proved to overwhelm Terra.
She ignored those calling her name, both out of frustration and worry. There were familiar faces in the mix of children, ones she deemed to be dead well over a year ago. Perhaps they were ghosts and the flesh she grasped with her own hands was an illusion. Maybe Kefka sent them to torment her further. They begged for Terra to rejoin the Returners and finish what was started.
Terra dropped her gaze and shook her head. Why couldn't she feel anything? Why did no excitement burst from within? A dead weight clung from her chest and nothing more. This is my purpose now, she kept to herself while retreating to Katarin's house to burrow into bed. I'm of no use to anyone. I'm better off staying out of the way and not be a disappointment.
A gentle hum tickled her ear. Terra lifted her tear-stained face from a pillow and stared at her nightstand. The magicite pulsed with light from the counter. Despite the destruction ripping the world apart, that shard remained the only proof of her life when balance was in order. She contemplated tossing it to the sea multiple times, though froze at the shore with each attempt.
"My dearest Terra," that voice filtered into her mind, "what is the matter?"
She rolled onto her side. "Leave me alone."
"Are you not crying? Did something—"
"Why do you care?! Why even bother now? This world is better off dead."
"You don't mean that—"
"I do. I can't do anything to save this world or anyone else or even myself."
"You don't give yourself enough credit. You cannot have all of life's answers and experience come morning. These things take time."
"I don't have time. I never did. Everyone else understands these things better than I ever will, so why not let someone else save the world?" Nothing. With a sharp inhale, Terra rolled back to eye the magicite. "Did… did you… no, it's nothing."
"Please, ask."
Tears caught in her eyelashes and streamed down her face. "Did you ever think about saving me? When the Empire took me away?"
Maybe she shouldn't have asked. What was the point? No answer would fix the damage that was done decades ago. Still, Terra lingered on the possibilities, as fleeting as they were.
The light from the magicite flickered and swirled. An ethereal chill encompassed the room. Terra lifted her head and gazed at the magicite despite her tears. And when the voice returned, her heart ached even further.
"Every day. I longed to hunt down that thieving waste of breath the second you slipped from my grasps. The elders, however, thought otherwise. Better to preserve our world than to put it at risk for a single life. I never agreed. I couldn't. You were my blood, my light and joy. You were the only soul left for me to love. I wished for nothing more but for you to return home, where you belonged. I wished to destroy every last human who laid a finger upon you. I wished for a world of nothing but love for you and it pains me to know I was never able to give that to you. I tried and I failed. I was taken prisoner for their own twisted experiments before I ever caught a glimpse of you. I'm sorry for the life you will never have, but please know that not once did I ever stop loving you. Every waking moment and even in my dreams, it was all for you, Terra. I want you to live, to shine, to love. I cannot save you now—only you can save yourself. And I know you can, for you're my daughter. Learn to love yourself the way I have and still do for you and you will never be alone again. That much I can promise you, my dearest Terra."
Warmth returned to the room. The magicite's light died to a dim glow. Terra held her tongue while tears flowed down her cheeks. She extended a hand and cradled the magicite to her chest. It pulsed several more times and Terra refused to let it go.
It was less of a change of heart and more of a lack of a better option. Better to end what they started, after all. Terra hoped it involved compromising with the remaining Espers, much like the plan back in Thamasa, but those days no longer existed. What remained was a broken world teetering between ruin and nothingness. None of them could reason with Kefka, even if they tried.
The only option available, however, froze Terra's heart.
She refused to believe what she overheard on board the Falcon. Perhaps Strago's theories were meaningless words to fill the air in their downtime. Whatever reasoning she tried to convince herself with, Terra returned to the possible outcome when the Warring Triad was destroyed.
Magic would cease to exist. Everything it once touched from the magicite to the fire coating her blood would vanish. The Espers' souls would blink out of reality. So would Terra, if Strago spoke the truth.
Catching her breath, she dropped to her knees and clutched her throbbing head. When the metal walls ceased to spin and the distant chatter of her allies quieted, Terra retrieved the magicite containing Maduin and rubbed it between her palms. A green light slipped through the cracks of her fingers and warmed to the touch.
"Do you…." Terra sighed and lowered her head. No wise words filled her head. Not yet. Licking her lips, she sought out the proper words to express the dreadful sentiment devouring her soul. "I can't help but wonder if… if all of this could have been done another way. Maybe we could have prevented Kefka's madness at one point or another. Or maybe… maybe if the Empire never found the Esper world… never found me… maybe then all would be well." She shook her head. "Or if Madeline never crossed over into the Esper world and you two never met… maybe then… but I don't know. It kills me to not know what else life could have meant for us. I wish I knew so many things. All I've ever known is confusion and pain. I don't want to be numb to the world anymore, but I keep asking myself over and over again. If I could—if you could—take back all of these events to change this horrible outcome, to prevent every atrocity and teardrop, even if it meant never meeting those who brought you joy, would you?"
Silence lived in both her head and the hallway. A soft hum vibrated in her palms as the light faded. Terra uncurled her fingers. Inches from the magicite, she held her breath and savored what warmth still lingered between them.
His answer came like a silent wind through the night. "I would never alter a second of my life if it meant preserving the memories, as brief as they may be, I've shared with you."
Twisted metal and stone walls crumbled from broken foundations. Kefka's shrieks echoed through the tower even after his demise. Magic held the structure together, now stripped away with every step Terra and the others took. She never paused to catch her breath or look back. The floors trembled beneath her and when no solid surface remained, she shed her human form to fly.
It pained her to zip by, as if a jagged dagger found a home between her ribs. Whatever magic lingered in her blood trickled away despite striving to live. Terra hissed and persevered. If she vanished along with every trace of magic left in this broken world, then so be it. Her legacy would live on after ensuring an escape route for her allies—her friends. It was the least she could accomplish.
Light glimmered at the end of a quivering corridor. The Falcon docked in the distance. Almost there, Terra thought. She slowed to a halt, hovering as she counted the individuals running below. Then they stopped. Each shard in their possession floated above, gleamed with brilliant light, and dissolved to nothing.
Terra held her breath. Just as expected, as promised. Even then, her heart didn't skip a beat.
She brought her attention to the magicite drifting away from her. The familiar warmth from the gem flared into a wildfire. Her eyes widened, lips ajar.
"Do not be afraid," Maduin murmured for her mind alone, "for you are more than pure magic. You are proof that both a human and Esper can exist as one and while my kind's time is coming to an end, your time is just beginning. Hold onto that, Terra. You have a whole life ahead of you to live."
Nothing prepared her for the potential, boundless freedom awaiting her. If she lived to see it, where was she to begin? Dozens of questions folded into one another and multiplied until millions of voices screamed for attention. Terra closed her eyes and bowed her head for only a moment. A new fire roared in her eyes upon opening them, one which required no magic to ignite. For once, the voices in her head quieted. For once, anxious doubt never tempted her lips.
"I know." She extended clawed fingertips to brush over the magicite one last time. "Thank you."
"I love you, Terra. Never forget that."
A smile teased her lips. "I love you, too, father."
Cracks erupted across the magicite like spiderwebs. Shards flaked off to dust before fading from sight. Terra stared at the spectacle until each magicite ceased to exist. Drawing a breath, she whipped around and darted ahead to lead the way.
The Falcon struggled to keep up with Terra as she sliced through the clouds. Wind whipped across her pink cheeks and tangled in her unruly hair. The fire smoldering in her soul flickered like dying embers giving way to ash. She faltered in her flight. Each breath skittered in her raw throat until she plummeted. Even as she squeezed her eyes shut, even as the magic left her, a flame continued to sear in her heart.
Terra opened her eyes to find herself on board the Falcon. The impact left her fragile form sore, but it was the chill claiming her bones which garnered her attention. Laughter flowed from Terra; she was cold and alive. And so were the others. Death never claimed any of them. Not now or any time in the near future.
After wobbling to her feet and assuring her friends she was well, Terra watched the red skies yield to blue and white hues from the bow. She inhaled the icy air, shivered, and smiled. And when she freed her curls from the sash holding them back, Terra breathed easier than ever before. No spell ever existed to bestow her with such a gift—she could live the life she dreamed of now.