Cleansing Original Sin
Prologue: What Might Be, and What Could Be
Dusk's light with withdrew from the landscape. The day ended, bringing so many lives to a final close. The ruined beach was littered with so much debris; it was difficult to tell what some of these things once were. Rocks thrown up from the ocean deep cracked, and splintered. The dark cliffs framing the shoreline cracked under the suffering of battle. The air was fresh with the stench of death; the scent of loss. Defeat hung in the air more stubbornly than death. Sadness clung to the backs of every one of the living like salt of the sea; a memory that will not fade soon. Hope was in short supply. Like rare minerals, hope was entirely depleted. This world, this fight, the war, this life was a meaningless exercise in attrition. Spira was such a place trapped in a cycle of decay. Eroding at foundations of the people's determination slowly until the ground fell out from under them.
The blackness seemed so much brighter suddenly. Weightlessness carried him slowly to a place he did not desire. Towards a vision he did not want to acknowledge. A vision of himself fallen. Dark blue eyes starred up emptily up at himself. He saw himself below lying down on the beach, starring up into the cloudless evening sky like he was in a day dream. Among the dead strewn on the shore, he himself was the only one he recognized. The single one he could focus on.
Supernatural lights danced in the air like fireflies curiously exploring the summer evening. Lights of the human soul left a trail of rainbow sorrow in their wake. No one wanted to die. They wanted to win. It was a goal they all shared: To serve need to avenge the fallen, the want to cleanse their greatest Sin, and satiate their unquenchable lust for freedom. None of them could accept this result. Their untamed guilt raged inside their souls, screaming to be manifested in this world. This was why they needed guidance towards the proper path. A great shepherd to appear in the valley in the shadow of death to take them towards rich, fertile green pastures.
One danced among the many lights in a slow waltz. She spun, and stepped with grace befitting an angel of god. Her soft brown hair fluttered breezily on the salty coastal winds. Gentle colors of blue, and white she was robed in accented her angelic form. Eyes of two differing colors held sadness in grief. Sea green and sky blue glittered on the edge of tears. For someone so young, she looked to have already seen so much. Still, there was a gentle strength no one could ever snuff out. For, she could not fail. Not now, not ever. This dance might have seemed trivial to the ignorant. No, there was a greater purpose. The tall rod she held was a sign post, and a signal for the lost to the holy path of radiant peace. She twirled the rod with deft skill. Great meaning was held in every movement. Not a single movement was wasted. Not a mistake could be pardoned because there were so many souls on the line. Too many to count among the ever increasing disembodied lights.
One final step, one final twirl sealed the ritual. Flames burning among the rubble shifted from defiant red to otherworldly blue. This was the signal; one final permission to go in the intersection between this world, and the next. The living stayed while the dead went ahead into the arms of the loving mother. Forever, and ever comforted in her bosom.
The lights finally disbursed, flickering out entirely. Small pops told the young woman she was finished. Her graceful transition went towards meaningful steps crunching the sand beneath her worn boots' soles. This was the confirmation she feared becoming reality. She stopped in front of one body clothed in dull colors, fatigues of the military variety. They were almost too modern for anyone other than the Al Bhed. He was someone she knew too well. The face she knew from the distant past. She held the boy's head in her hands when she kneeled down next to him. Cradling the body like it was someone she held dearly once.
Salty tears finally fell; they drifted down her face onto the boy's dark clothes. "Asher…" she cried, sobbing out the grief she held deep beneath the entire time. "Y-you promised… You promised! Don't break your promise!"
A long time ago, there was a promise made between a boy and a girl. One single oath dedicated to protect what they held precious. Their bond wouldn't go severed even though they departed from one another. It was a childish promise. Still, she expected in all her child like hopes that it be fulfilled one day.
"If I'm ever in trouble...you'll come find me, right? If I'm ever sick, blind, or dumb. Or just can't find my way. Any kind of trouble. Please come find me..."
That oath…He agreed to it. It seemed so long ago. It was tragic he didn't have a mouth to speak it, and a hand to touch her. Give her a hug to comfort her. If he had known, if only he known she was there, fate might have been different. Death was a robber; an infamous thief of dreams, and hope. Riding on the back of Spira's indelible Sin, he could not be defeated. It was a fact of life. None could change it.
Except for this single time…One warning is given: a preview of what was to come. Mighty Etro only gives one chance to alter fate. Mother of all, guide of the dead, lady of our undefeated Aeon protectors, astute guardian of the balance, seer of Spira's fate; May your gentle strength fortify our souls, and grant our fragile mortal bodies power to push aside our enemies. Grant us wisdom to make the correct decision that might change our fate during our darkest hour. If we may fall, lift us back on to our feet so we may try again. If we perish, show us your motherly kindness when you cradle us against your bosom forever more. Guide us, dear mother Etro. Amen.