Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy.
It is a cold night. The full moon shines brightly overhead. Two bandits make off with their payload.
It had been easy. A lone traveller, driving a chocobo-drawn cart filled with supplies.
The bandits don't know who that person is, or why they were travelling at night. Nor do they care. They'd left him by the side of the Mi'hen Highroad. Perhaps he'd survive, perhaps not. This is no concern of the bandits. They have what they came for.
Their arms are laden with the most valuable of the traveller's luggage. The chocobo escaped them. This is a pity, but tonight's is a decent load, even without a chocobo to carry more.
They hear a rustling in the bushes. They shrug it off. It's probably nothing, they decide.
But they are wrong. Dead wrong.
Morning finds the two bandits dead of many wounds which appear to have been inflicted by fangs and claws. Those who find them decide that it must have been a fiend attack.
The man that they had robbed told his story, and many reflected upon the poetic justice of the events.
But few lingered
upon this for long.
No one noticed the dark-furred wolf-fiend that watched from the shadows, with red eyes aglow.
---
This is my story.
I was once called Paine. I was a warrior, and one of a spherehunting group called the Gullwings. We were famous throughout Spira.
On one fateful evening, I went out training. I had been bored, you see. No new sphere waves had been detected for weeks.
I went to the Calm Lands wearing a Lure Bangle. Fiends came pouring in. I was so busy, I didn't notice when evening became night.
After awhile, absolutely exhausted, I noticed how dark it had gotten, and decided to return to the airship.
However, I hadn't taken more than a few steps when I was ambushed by a pair of Malboros.
Malboros are usually solitary. Who knows why these two had decided to hunt as a pair tonight?
I had no time to react before I was Bad Breathed into a state of confusion. I swung my sword about wildly, inflicting wounds to myself as the Malboros attacked me.
On that night, I fell.
The other Gullwings found me the next morning, too far gone for a Phoenix Down to revive me.
They mourned my death, but in time, came to accept it.
I, however, could not.
I raged within at my defeat. My rage turned to the living after a time, and I became a fiend.
I was shaped like a wolf, with fur black as a starless night, and red eyes. I think I remember creating a pack of fiends around me, but my memories of that time are mostly dim.
Only one memory is clear. I only wish it were as dim and confused as the others.
I ran with my pack through the Calm Lands, and into Macalania Woods.
There, we met Baralai.
I don't know what he was doing there. It was only afterwards that I even realized who he was.
But back then, I was as a fiend, with no thought but to kill. And, howling, my pack fell upon him.
He sent many to the Farplane. But he was eventually overcome. There were far too many of us.
As I struck the killing blow, he looked at my face. As his eyes clouded with death, they widened in surprise. "Paine?" he choked. He must have recognized something of the human that once was within the fiendish form.
Suddenly, the cloud of rage that had cloaked my mind for so long lifted. I remembered, but I could not speak. He died.
I howled mornfully. This couldn't be! I couldn't have actually done this! It must be a dream, a dream, nothing but a terrible dream...
But it was real. It was all real.
I turned upon my pack, snarling, tearing. They were confused, at first. Eventually, some tried to fight back, but I was stronger than they, and soon all fell.
But this could not bring him back to life. I stayed by his side by morning, when a patrol of New Yevon guards found me. I had to flee.
I briefly considered going back, letting their bullets tear through me, ending me. But the will to survive is strong, and besides, I had to make amends somehow.
So now I travel Spira in my fiendish form. I destroy those I find who do harm to others. I attack in dead of night. But I am no longer truly a fiend. I never harm the innocent.
This is my penance. I will walk Spira until its days end, and I will do what good I can, in order to repay, in some manner, the horrible deed I did.
That is my story. Now you know.
So if you ever see me wandering the dark and lonely roads at night in Spira, do not raise your weapon against me. If you are no evildoer, I will do you no harm.
But if you attack the innocent in dead of night, thinking no one sees... beware.
I will find you.
I was once called Paine.
Now... I am the Fangs of the Night.
Author's Note: This story grew out of a title that popped into my head. It was originally going to be called Lunar Cry. It was a nice little pun-- Lunar Cry is a term from FFVIII. Therefore, I wanted something connected to the moon. My first thought was a werewolf, but there are no werewolves in Spira. Simply putting one in Spira for no reason at all would seem rather, for lack of a better term, silly. Therefore, the puzzle was how to fit something like a werewolf into Spira that worked with the mechanics of the world.
So I decided-- why not have a fiend with a human mind?
I changed the name to Fangs of the Night because that fit better than Lunar Cry. Oh well, perhaps I'll be able to use that title another time.