The Day The World Ended, Part One: The Tower
The first thing I noticed about the structure was the seemingly random way that it had been put together, as if bypassing all common laws of architecture, or even physics at that. Wooden jetties supported by steam pipes, corrugated metal walkways with glorious stone archways hanging above them, even cliffs made of earth seemed to be a part of the tower. It wasn't unlike what a child might do if presented with all of their favourite foods at once – rather than eat them individually and risk getting a full stomach before their favourite dish, they'd prefer to mix them all together – no matter how unappetising the end result may be.
The second thing I noticed was the sheer scale of it. You could see it from miles away, the scar on the horizon, but to be actually there and next to it was something else entirely. It stretched up into the sky forever, and seemed to just keep rising the more your neck craned. Whether this was a trick of my eyes or a direct result of the supernatural forces at work inside, I can't say. But the summit of the tower I never once saw – only the sky.
Yes, the third thing I noticed was the sky. Whilst the structure itself seemed to stretch upwards forever, the opposite must be said for the sky around it. For about a mile radius surrounding the tower the sky had such an odd property that if you looked into it for more than a glance it seemed so close, almost as if it were falling. And the colour...the colour was unreal, impossible to describe and even recall in my mind's eye. It was like a mixture of colours, yet at the same time, it was not...it was like a new colour, something you simply can't imagine yourself. This unsettling image seemed to surround the tower alone, gradually dissolving into the rest of the sky until you didn't even notice it had disappeared.
The fourth thing about it, I must say, was the flora and fauna. Have you ever walked the rich plains and jungles of the Veldt? The beauty of nature is apparent here, from the wild plants that grow to the dazzling array of beasts. Yet at the tower, the land was scarred. Drought had dried it up entirely, but rather than the drained brown of dry land it seemed closer to a bleak, charcoal black – as if burned. As we passed through dead, leafless forests to reach the tower I noticed the only sign that vegetation once lived here – besides the hollow tree trunks, of course – were the roots of plants, pulled up from the ground and picked clean of soil and moisture.
And the creatures...hideous mutants, a crude bricolage of all the planet's animals – winged bulls, buffalos with scales, feathered snakes – only the tip of the abominations! Others were beyond description, monsters that must have long been sealed in the earth for I'd never seen anything like them before. Derivatives of the terror of the skies, Doom Gaze, seemed to be commonplace here, whilst imps and devils roamed around hunting on any prey they could find. Things humanoid in appearance ambled aimlessly around the plains and cliffs leading up to the tower, feasting on the raw flesh of these animals – if you can call them animals, this is. My guide – a silent, cloaked individual that called themselves the Shadow, or some such – dispatched these with merciless precision. I was thankful to have him with me, for I would never have survived such treacherous terrain myself.
And this tower, and these fiends, put together by one man, although he was of course by this point more than a mere 'man'.
I, and everyone else who survived it, can vividly recall the day it all happened – the day the world ended. I was in Kohlinghen, so far from home, on an expedition. There had been such an odd feeling in the air for weeks, that of muted celebration. Word had reached us that the Empire had fallen, that Vector was a charred husk, that the mad clown Kefka had been imprisoned. Other rumours were abound, ones less easy to believe. That Gestahl was in fact dead, hanged by the Returners. That Leo had to take control of the Empire, given that Gestahl had no heir. That the fall of the Empire was caused not by the Returners but by Espers – something we all scoffed at, being that most right-minded individuals had stopped believing in Espers and natural magic by the end of their childhood, although in chilling hindsight we know this to be all too real now...
It was hard for people to accept that this magic existed, at first, but it didn't take long for them to be convinced. Many claimed the land changed shape as a natural occurrence – a freak one, but a natural occurrence nonetheless. The more fanatic amongst these claimed the enormous tower that appeared so quickly was something the Empire had been constructing underground for years, but had only now revealed it. But it was upon seeing the light that turned most people. The Light Of Judgement, they called it. Its message was clear – obey the new ruler, or face judgement. For Kefka, judgement and destruction always went hand in hand.
I'm not sure if I was the first to study Kefka's tower, but I was certainly the first to survive it. My expedition to the tower was certainly useful, even if I did gamble so closely with death in order to perform my studies. I learned a lot here, despite only staying for two nights. I learned that the ground it stood on was poisoned, and was slowly but surely spreading further and further. Given enough time, I theorised, the poisoned earth would spread across the planet, killing all of the planet's vegetation. I learned that Doom Gaze actually resides in the tower, leaving routinely to hunt unprotected travellers – it was fortunate that on this occasion he did not see us. I also learnt that there was no way inside from the ground, leaving only two options for entrance – to fly there aboard an airship, impossible now that the world's only airship had been destroyed, or to be taken there in the claws of Doom Gaze and somehow escape unscathed. In the case of the latter, only one person could enter at a time, rendering their chances of escape almost nil as well as meaning there was no possibility of attacking Kefka, for one person could not face him alone. No, even if there was a force strong enough to resist and attack Kefka they had no way to reach him, meaning that the world would remain with him as a leader for well over three years.
The most interesting discovery, however, I found that the place emanated magic – pure magic. The monsters that lived in the region had been warped by this power, whilst I would often find that in moments of intense emotion in the area – such as the adrenal boost found when we were being attacked by these monsters – I was performing magic. Rudimentary and redundant magic, of course, but magic nonetheless. Sparks of the three basic elements would appear from my fingertips in these moments, harnessing the power dripping from the tower. The thrill was unrivalled, though my emotionless companion didn't seem surprised by it, merely remarking that they'd seen their share of magic already. I proposed the theory from here that, due to the absence of magic in the world today, can obviously no longer be studied – that every human being had the capability of using magic so long as the conditions were right for it.
It's a shame that after publishing these theories they get abused by the fanatics in the Cult Of Kefka, but that is a story for another time.