Summary: Records the events from third person that ultimately led to the creation of the organization Cruxis. Serious fic, begins after the loss of a certain friend... Characters: Yggdrasil, Yuan, Kratos, Martel. Oneshot. Revision: 1/07/07
Birth of Cruxis
A/N: Whoot! Big thanks go out to Sunshine and Puppies for taking the time to point out icky spots.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Tales of Symphonia. Namco does.
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This story is about Angels.
Real Angels. Before Martel.
Maybe that is the reason why the priests and the Chosen always stare at me in horror when I mention the story to the little ones.
Because there simply is not a "before Martel."
Sacrilege, they hiss through teeth, panic rising.
In the end, does it matter if it is sacrilege or not?
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Once upon a time, before Martel, there were four Angels. One Angel was already on her way to the highest Heaven. The three other Angels could not consent.
They wanted to keep that Angel with them. She was their light, the one that took care of them, the one the tucked them in at night, their voice of reason. For the times that she was not there with them, they were blinded in Chaos, wandering. Lost.
They needed her as children need their mothers.
But the odd one in the group of the three Angels thought that once a person was on their way to Heaven, none should ever try to drag them down to Sylverant once more. That Angel was wiser than the other two, older. He knew that once they are gone, they are gone
It was not that he loathed her. It was not that he could survive without her any easier than the other two could.
It was because he knew it was wrong.
But the other two did not see it that way. Could not see. So they turned against him, turned their fair feathered wings against him. He was cast out, out into an unforgiving, indifferent world that had long forgotten their four saviors.
His white wings dulled, the colors turning cold, dark, sinister. He locked away his feelings, his torn and shredded emotions of absolute refusal by the only salvation. Darkness faded over his broken soul, twisting and distorting him into a cold, seemingly perfect soul of ice.
He was turned into a monster.
But Time walked on by in her oblivious path, and one of the two Angels that had originally cast him out reached out with a sympathetic hand out to him, remembering the bonds of Brotherhood they had once formed, shining golden threads that would forever connect the two.
At first the Dark Angel refused, ignoring the gentle tugs of the fragile strands. Then the other Angel of the two that had rejected him grew impatient and yanked upon his own connections to him--thick, murky strings. He was choking the Dark One, fraying and thinning the bond, and the other Angel could see that, could feel it. His own wings' colors started to shift towards a sunset's coloring as his compassion warmed, and he stopped the intolerant one with a few calm, scolding words. He then flew to his Brother, feeling and knowing that his relationship with the angry one was unraveling.
The last remaining Angel with still reasonably white feathers became angry. He saw the other Angels distancing themselves from him, forming stronger bonds with others rather than him.
He was being abandoned.
Nobody wanted him.
Tears choked him, and some say that his mind began to loosen.
And since he was not as strong as the Darkened One, nor as thoughtful as the Understanding Seraph, nor as accepting as the Empathetic Angel, he turned to the last remaining Angel who had not discarded him, left him for others.
Himself.
And thus, he disappeared.
In his place flew Yggdrasil, wings a diamond of brilliance and reflecting all the countless colors of Sylverant; the ugly, the beautiful, the bad, the good. Colors shifted, the rays striking out at those that came too close. He was unstable, did not know what to do. So the colors constantly stirred and rearranged themselves to be compatible with him.
The Darkened One saw it, the Understanding Seraph heard it, and the Empathetic Angel felt it. They all knew what was happening, and they each reached out, trying to reason with the self-named supreme leader. But he pushed them away, pushed them all away. He instead found to lose himself in self-induced illusions, wandering in a haze of the life he chose to believe.
"The only way to make everything right again," Yggdrasil told the cowering, sniveling fool inside of him that had only wanted his friends back, "is to revive your dear sister, the Empathetic Angel."
My sister? he asked, lifting his tear-streaked face to a stoic one. B-but m-my sister is dead...
Yggdrasil's eyes gleamed. "Not for long, dear Brother. Not for long."
And hence, Cruxis was born.
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End