Disclaimer: The Project-S Team, which is comprised of FanFiction users Digital Dimension, Chang-Tong, FurudeRika, and noa748, does not own Tales of Symphonia or any other related and/or licensed material.
Any original characters were produced by the members of PST.
Tales of the Fading Light
Prologue: The End of an Era
The year was AKW 3200; Thirty-two hundred years after the Kharlan War.
The world of Sylvarant had been through a golden age for over an entire century. Such economic flourish was almost unheard of in history. It had been ages since the evil Desians had been vanquished by the Chosen of Mana, and the world was left at peace.
Warring states were a thing of the past. While there had been a large power struggle after the Chosen's successful endeavor, all groups eventually found themselves too weak to make a valid nation. Therefore, in the year AKW 2954, the groups of the world combined their power to form what would be the greatest economic superpower that Sylvarant would ever know.
This was the birth of the Sylvarant Dynasty.
The dynasty covered most of the world, leaving only the western continent of Triet and the unexplored islands in the great oceans out of its borders. It was unchallengeable in agricultural and scientific knowledge. Currency was not scarce, and poverty was a rarity.
It was the greatest society in the world's history… but everything changed at the beginning of the thirty-third century.
In the autumn of 3200, the Desians reappeared. Boasting an advanced army of thousands, they quickly lay waste to many of the dynasty's garrisons and forts around the world. Crop fields were burnt, cities were destroyed, and civilians were killed or captured.
It was terrible... but it was only the beginning.
Anyone with a decent education knew that the Desians only had one true purpose, and that was to control the world and plunge it into destruction. To do this, they had to endure for untold amounts of time and use up the world's mana in their prison-like bases called human ranches.
However, there was one well known way to eliminate the Desians. The Chosen of Mana, usually the youngest of the Mana Lineage, had to release the seals across the world and at the Tower of Salvation. It is there that the Angels of Cruxis would restore the world and banish the Desians for the next ages.
During the war with the Desians, the Sylvarant Dynasty's leader, Emperor Johan III, decided that it would be best if the Chosen was kept safely inside the Martel Cathedral in the dynasty's capitol of Arlee. Emperor Johan never once believed that the Desians would reach Arlee. The capitol was well defended by the garrison at Luin and Fort Talos to the north, as well as Fort Migards to the south. Surely, he thought, the Desians can never break through such strong defenses.
In the winter of 3201, both forts and the garrison at Luin were annihilated. All remaining forces built up in Arlee. Every able man was given the best sword and armor he could have, though it was hardly enough. The Desians had grown into a force of over ten thousand since their arrival, having rallied the oppressed half-elves of the world to their cause.
It was the first day of spring, AKW 3201, when the Desians marched on Arlee.
From one of the Imperial Palace's many windows, a boy watched the scene of destruction below. It was a horrific sight for him to behold. The Desians were encroaching into every corner of the lower level, littering the air with screams of the innocent. The boy's face was wrought with terror, his eyes unable to tear away from the sight of the soldiers killing and dying. It was like a sea of blue and silver crashing bloodily into a larger surge of red and ebon.
On the graying field out beyond Arlee's walls, a large orb appeared, causing the rest of the drab landscape to obscure and darken around it. Suddenly, the orb left the ground, taking to the clouded sky with fervor. No doubt, it was a ball of flame from a Desian siege mortar. Many had already flown over the city and done their damage, and now this one was to add its piece.
The boy, a young servant of the Emperor, followed the fireball as it made its way up and down again. It flew with almost unnatural grace until it smashed itself into the Martel Cathedral's bell tower. A loud gong of a noise broke through the now monotonous screams, as if informing the entire city that everyone in the upper half of the tower was now dead.
"Neville!" a voice penetrated the boy's concentration. "Get away from there!"
The boy, Neville, turned back to the door, where the voice had come from. There he saw Captain Cashiel Dantius of the Imperial Guard. Instantly, the child burst into tears and ran to the knight and wrapped himself around the man's armored leg. The silver greave was little comfort, but it was better than the window's horrors.
"Captain! W-What are we going to do?!" the ten-year-old cried, his teary black eyes looking up to the tall man with frightened emotion.
Cashiel reached down and loosened the boy from his shin. "Don't worry. We're getting out of here. Now, tell me, where is the Emperor?"
Neville contained himself with a sniffle, though it did little to eliminate the traces of snot from his face or from Cashiel's armor. "Yes, sir. His majesty said he had something to do in his bedroom. He told me not to disturb him."
Cashiel turned to see the door to the Emperor's private bedroom slightly ajar. He made his way over to the door, his armor giving a clank for every step he took. Neville watched in apprehensive awe as the captain swung the door open to the bedroom and started to call out.
"Your Majest-!!" Cashiel's words froze and cut into a gasp. The captain stood still for a moment, as if unsure what to do. His actions became hesitant. He attempted to enter the room, but backed off at the last moment.
Neville took this most uncertainly. The youngster slowly started toward the doorway, but Cashiel jerked the wooden access shut with a slam. Neville stopped, shocked by the sudden act.
"Come. Let us leave this place." the man said with solemnly, motioning for Neville to follow as he turned to leave the Emperor's chambers.
"But… W-What about Emperor Johan?" the boy asked as he ran to catch up with Cashiel. "Captain Dantius?"
Cashiel merely looked back at the boy, his blue eyes void of emotion. "I regret to say it, but His Majesty will not be joining us."
Neville gave the knight a look of distressed disbelief, but a sudden shake of the palace floor caused him to quicken his pace. He did not want to leave the Emperor, but he was too frightened to leave Cashiel's side.
The journey from the top of the palace to its grand entrance hall was rather uneventful. The palace shook a few times, and the cries outside never seemed to let up, but the upper halls themselves looked untouched by everything. Sitting atop the mountain that Arlee was built against, the palace stood mostly out of the reach of the Desian siege machines. That did not stop them from trying to hit it, though.
Upon arriving at the entrance hall, the smell of smoke, metal, and blood became most apparent. It filled Neville with a heavy nausea, causing him to stumble at the bottom of the stairs.
A loud set of clanks resounded as Cashiel did a double-take and brought the servant boy back to his feet. "Come now. This is not the place for a stop." the blond man told the queasy boy before turning back to the entrance hall. He found his squad of soldiers waiting for him with a heard of servants and a few misplaced nobles and retainers. They watched him expectantly, noticing the lack of royalty in their presence.
"Captain Dantius, where is His Majesty?" a helmeted lieutenant asked as he met the approaching two.
"Not now, Lieutenant. Did you get the other blue-bloods to the cathedral?"
The lieutenant nodded. "Yes sir, but…"
"Is this the entire palace residence?" Cashiel interrupted, glancing almost nervously at the crowd of worried people. He noticed Neville running over to his mother, whom was a maid in the palace.
"I'm not sure, but these people have taken refuge here and are begging for our protection." the helmeted man reported uneasily.
"Has the fighting reached the upper levels yet?" Cashiel questioned as he walked into the center of the room.
"No, sir, but the garrison on the lower levels is taking heavy casualties." the lesser soldier informed his superior. "We have sniper-class archers in tall buildings and along the overlooking walls. I here they're keeping us in the fight at the moment..."
Cashiel shot a short glare at the lieutenant, shutting him up immediately. He then looked at the group of civilians, which was focused on him as if he were a crier in some backwater village. Not a single word was being uttered, leaving only the noises from outside.
"Now, listen up!" Cashiel called in a commanding tone. "I am Captain Dantius of the Imperial Guard. These men and I are going to take you all to the Martel Cathedral. From there, you will be able to escape to the catacombs and then out of the city." he informed the people.
As they all started whispering about the possibility of escape, Cashiel turned to the soldiers. Unlike himself, they were not members of the Imperial Guard. These men were just a leaderless group that had lost their leader to a fireball at the siege's start. Being a guardsman, as well as a captain, he easily outranked them. Before Cashiel could deliver orders to the men, however, the lieutenant made his way to the blond's ear.
"Sir, where is the Emperor?" the helmeted man asked gravely, as he and the rest of the men began to tense up, expecting the most horrible news.
Cashiel took a deep breath, closing his eyes and running his metal-covered hand through the back of his neck-length blond hair. "His Majesty has abandoned us." he claimed as he opened his eyes, pointing them away from any of the men. There was a tinge of sadness, or maybe guilt, but there was also anger. Walking past the lieutenant and through the gathered squad, Cashiel began giving orders.
"Rafael, Reyson, Janaff, you're with me on the door. Oliver, Lekain, Hetzel, you guide the crowd to the cathedral." he commanded as he drew his steel blade from its spot on his back. He then turned to the helmeted lieutenant. "And you take the rear."
The men took their positions and got ready to make the trip to the cathedral. It was not a particularly long journey, as the holy place was on the upper level, not a moment's jaunt from the palace. Unfortunately, there was no telling if the Desians were going to break into the upper level soon. It was also possible that they had already broken through.
"Ready men? We go on three." Cashiel affirmed. "One… Two… Three!"
Cashiel and Rafael shoved the palace doors open, jabbing their swords out into the blood-thick air. The instant room was made, Reyson and Janaff charged through the passage. The former stayed on the stoop, while the latter took a leap to the bottom of the short flight of stairs. Both, however, took notice that the royal level was just as they had left it. There were soldiers and members of the Imperial Guard standing about, ready to defend the palace.
Cashiel and Rafael, followed by Reyson, descended the steps as the captain motioned for the civilian group to move up.
"Sir, what's going on?" one of the guardsmen, a commander, asked Cashiel as he passed by.
Cashiel held his hand up, stopping his entire group, before looking at the guardsman. "What is the status of the upper level?"
"The Desians are attempting to break through the gate as we speak, sir. We do not know how long we have until they break through."
Cashiel nodded, taking in the information. "I see. Tell your men to follow us down. We are escorting what's left of the servants to the Martel Cathedral… In fact, I could use some of your men if front of the cathedral. The rest of you need to join the main formations."
"But, sir… What about the palace? The Emperor?" the commander asked, his voice touched by surprise.
"To my knowledge, the palace is void of the living." Cashiel informed the guardsman. "The Emperor has abandoned us. Now, do as I say. We need to make sure the civilians have time to escape. If you feel that they are overwhelming you, fall back and defend the cathedral until you're sure the civilians have made it away. Barricade the doors and then escape yourselves. Make sure they cannot follow you."
After a short moment of hesitation, the commander conceded. "Yes, sir. I'll get right on that."
Cashiel responded with another nod before motioning for his group to follow.
With swiftness only found in times of need and fear, the large group made its way down from the royal level and onto the upper level. There, Cashiel and his men took a right while the soldiers and knights from the royal level joined the battle-ready formation. Every few moments, a loud crash resounded through the city as the Desians tried to break through the large gate fruitlessly.
"Inside, quickly!" Cashiel told the front civilians as he and Janaff pushed the doors open. The heard made is way inside hastily, keeping two-wide for the most part.
Suddenly, as the civilian line was about three quarters in, a wailing crack was heard, followed by twin slams of the metal on stone.
"They've breached the gate!!"
All at once, battle cries went out, snipers released their arrows, and squad leaders began barking simple-yet-effective orders. The civilians started screaming, and similar screams came from inside the cathedral as well.
"Sir, what shall we do?!" Rafael cried to Cashiel over the confusion and clangs.
"Stay out here and lead the defense of the cathedral! Make sure nothing gets inside until the civilians are away, got it!?"
"Y-Yes, sir!" the soldier acknowledged with a quick nod.
The instant the helmeted lieutenant, who had been bringing up there rear as Cashiel had ordered, was inside, Cashiel motioned for Janaff to join the formation. The soldier nodded and did so, allowing for the captain to duck inside the holy place and haul the large doors closed.
Inside the Martel Cathedral, everything was different than it was outside. The place of worship lined with pews, seats for the service-goers on normal days, which lined off into the darkness of the unlit chapel. In the center of the chapel was a statue of the goddess lined with lit candles, so that she could be seen at all times. She shone with a golden radiance that seemed fitting for this time of need.
At the goddess's base, where the altar was, the line of civilians were trailing around the statue, no doubt being led to the catacombs by Oliver, Lekain, and Hetzel. Nearby, the flamboyantly adorned Archbishop Alexander II stood, giving his prayers of safety to the people as they passed.
As he strode down the aisle, two sentries barricading the doors behind him, Cashiel also noticed a young black haired girl standing behind the Archbishop. She was dressed in a seamless white robe that managed to show off her status. He knew this girl well, for she was the young Chosen of Mana. She attended all the church services and led the prayers at public events. From now on, though, her job was much more complicated…
…and much more tragic.
"Captain, sir!" the helmeted lieutenant turned around, saluting Cashiel. It was an unexpected measure, done completely out of respect. The soldier was asking for permission to leave.
Cashiel returned the salute. "Make sure they make it to safety."
"Sir, yes, sir!" the lesser officer responded, flattered, before turning back to the crowd and following them towards the passages to the catacombs. From there, they would be able to escape to towards Palmacosta and other places.
"Captain Dantius." the Archbishop's old, withered voice said his name calmly. The only ones left in the chapel proper were he, the captain, and an assortment of the Holy Guard. The Holy Guard was a sec of gold-armored knights that saw to the Archbishop's and the Chosen's personal safety.
Cashiel faced the old man and took to a knee, bowing his head to the church leader. "Yes, Archbishop? What is your request?" he asked, exhibiting pure politeness.
"Captain, what has happened to Emperor Jonas? He was not with your group." the old sage's question hit the silver clad knight like a probe into his soul. The matter was intensified by the old man's grave look. His overbearing glare was backed up by the goddess, Martel's, holy gaze. They were both looks that Cashiel did not have the will or wit to meet.
"The Emperor… He committed suicide in his bed, Archbishop." Cashiel reported, strain holding the words back for a short moment. He had not wanted to say it in such a way, but the pressure from the holy eyes upon him was too much to bear.
"…" the Archbishop closed his eyes and let off an inward groan, not opening his mouth. This, accompanied by the small gasp of the young Chosen, was enough to fill Cashiel with the guilt he had been suppressing.
"There…" he hesitated, feeling slightly humiliated in his predicament. "…is nothing that I can do to make up for this failure, My Lo-"
"Silence, Captain!" the Archbishop demanded, throwing his hand over the younger man. "You are not to blame for this incident. It is the Emperor's fault for not being able to handle his fate. He was a vain and ungifted man, unfit to rule in this time of need." the elderly man said, his tone full of judgment and controlled fury. He then turned and began to walk around the statue, the girl going after him.
"Archbishop…" Cashiel started, rather shocked at the elder's choice of words, but his voice failed him before he could say anything. With a deep breath that seemed to take the guilt from him, if only partially, he pushed himself to his feet and followed after the holy man and his clinging sacred icon.
"We are short of time, Captain." the Archbishop told Cashiel as he rounded to the darker side of the chapel. Everything back here took light from either the windows or the small amount of residual light from the statue's candles. "Everything we thought would last has been taken, and with the death of the Emperor combined with the fall of this city, the dynasty will fall into discord."
Cashiel watched the Archbishop as he glanced around the dark room spacefully. "May I ask what you mean, Archbishop?"
Archbishop Alexander did not even spare a look at the knight. He just kept his gaze roaming whilst scratching at his long white beard, as if he was trying to remember something by looking at the room around him. The small Chosen never left his side. She was, in fact, actually doing the same thing her elderly counterpart was doing.
"Our time is ending, mine and Johan's." the Archbishop claimed somberly, referring to the deceased emperor by his assumed name. "We can only pray that those that come next are more… more brave, more able, less decrepit. I am too old for battle, but I can still set this into motion…"
Cashiel was getting worried for old Alexander. Had he lost his mind, as well? "My Lord, are you well? We need to escape into the catacombs. We must get you and the Chosen to safety before-!"
"Safety?" the Archbishop turned to give Cashiel a most dubious look one could conceive. "There is no true safety along those paths. It is likely many will perish on the route to Palmacosta, and Desians have likely taken the entire Migards area as their own. I cannot allow such perils to befall our last hope."
Cashiel was once again shocked by the church leader's words. "Last hope? You mean…" Cashiel's eyes wander down to the youthful girl, whom was looking up at the elder with her large ice-blue eyes. There were signs of lost tears in her eyes, but, aside from that, she was perfectly untouched. Her face was full of fright and confusion, just like Neville's had been earlier.
"Yes…" the Archbishop said, stepping from the raised section of the floor that held the altar and the statue. "Now, it should be…" he tapped the golden scepter he had been holding on the floor. It made a hollow, echoing thud, as if the large marble tile he had hit was only an inch or so thick and there was open air beneath it. "Ah!" the holy man called, getting down on his knees, discarding the scepter, and prying at something on the floor.
Before Cashiel could go over to see what the old man was doing, the sound of what could have been running sand came to ears. It was the tile's mortar filing away from the marble slab. A few moments later, the sound was replaced by some pained grunts from Alexander. Realizing what was going on, Cashiel rushed over and helped the old man lift the large piece.
Below, there was a hole that seemed to descend into the bowels of the Earth. There was only a small flicker of light at the pit's bottom, but Cashiel was unsure of it was even real or not.
Alexander put his hand on the captain's shoulder and gave it a pull. "Take this way. It is a secret path that leads towards Hima. From there, you must make your way to Iselia by way of the Great Bridge. The Desians may not have taken it yet."
"Yes, My Lord, but what about you?" Cashiel asked a question that had been weighing heavily on the Archbishop's mind. Sadly, he already knew the answer.
"I must stay and be your scapegoat." the old man admitted sorrowfully. "Perhaps that… Perhaps I can throw them off your trail."
"Archbishop…" the old man's words once again shook Cashiel. "Did you not just say that you are too old for this sort of thing?" the knight asked, praying that the church leader would reconsider his decision.
The Archbishop turned away from Cashiel, looking up to the statue to seek the Martel's grace. She would give it no matter which way it faced. "There is a broad line between battle and bravery, Captain Dantius. Some would say that I am fit for neither, but I believe that such a matter is left between the goddess and me."
Suddenly, the quiet peace of the cathedral was broken by a loud ram against the door. Both men in the darkness behind the statue looked to the door sentries for an explanation.
"The Desians are breaking through!!" one of the men cried as they both put shoulders to the doors. Some of the larger Holy Guard knights ran up to assist them, lining the shut passage with armor.
"There is no time for delay! The Desians must not see you!" Alexander asserted to the captain. "Take the Chosen and leave! There are aid stations along the passage that should ease your way."
Cashiel looked at the Archbishop, then at the young Chosen. She was shivering, staring frightfully at the door as it was crashed against every few seconds. Then, he looked into the deep passage and the old wooden ladder that led down into its maw. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and said a short prayer for the future.
"Captain?" the Archbishop called to Cashiel, wondering why he was not yet moving.
Cashiel responded by opening his eyes, newfound resolve evident. "Very well, Archbishop."
Alexander breathed a quick sigh of relief before turning to the Chosen. "Come here, Nerine!" he called her name loud enough to get her attention.
The black haired girl tore her attention from the door and rushed over to the man, tears brimming in her eyes. "Uncle?" she said in a worried pitch. The word came by Cashiel as slightly pitiful, but he could not truly blame her.
The powerful Archbishop had suddenly changed from one of the most influential men in the world to a kindly old man. "I need you to go with Captain Dantius. He is going to take you away from here to where it's safe." Alexander requested, his voice fitting of being the girl's trusted guardian, not to mention her friend.
"B-But what about you, Uncle? Aren't you coming, too?" young Nerine asked, on the verge of bursting into tears. No doubt she had been through the most traumatic day of her life.
"We shall meet again, I swear to you." he assured the frightened girl, knowing full well that it was a lie.
Almost as if sensing the falseness of his words, Nerine threw herself at the Archbishop, openly sobbing. The two embraced in a sad clasp, filling the air with a gauche feeling of peace. The peace was broken too quickly, however, as the Desians assaulted the doors once again, this time knocking a few of the men holding them in place. They corrected themselves immediately, though, not wanting to allow a strike to hit the doors without a full defense up.
Keeping his grasp on the girl after the crash, Alexander swiftly handed her off to Cashiel, whom had climbed onto the ladder during the moment of affection between the two holy figures.
"Wha…? Uncle?!" the Chosen cried out, reaching out for her elderly ally. "Uncle! Come with us, please!" she sobbed over the pounding in the background.
As Cashiel started down the ladder, trying to avoid looking up at the Archbishop while keeping a firm hold on the struggling Nerine, the now somber old church leader watched with filling regret and sadness.
"Go my children… The future rests in your hands." he said before going over and pushing the large open tile back into the position it had been in originally. It closed with a resounding slam. This slam was nothing, however, against the sound of the cathedral's doors being burst apart by a Desian battering ram, a noise which coincided with closing of the tile.
And, thus, the news spread across the world like a wild fire. The Sylvarant Dynasty had fallen, and rumors quickly spread that the Chosen had perished during the siege. It was as if a wave of sorrow had suddenly drifted over the land.
Before long, the Desians had taken to their evil deeds of collecting humans and taking them to build their massive bases, referred to infamously as the Human Ranches. It was unknown what truly went on in these sinister places, but when one went there, they never returned.
With no remaining known members of the Mana Lineage left for the world to lean on for quick salvation, the people of Sylvarant settled in to wait, accepting the rule of the Desians for the time being. Each night, every person across the planet prayed for the angels to birth a new Chosen One…
…except in one village.
5 years after the fall of Arlee, in Iselia, the Village of Oracles, a dim glimmer of hope still remained.
Hi! Digital Dimension here, thanking you for reading Project-S Team's first fic, Tales of the Fading Light!
When I first started Project-S, I had no real idea what was going to happen. Before I even knew what was really happening, I had gathered my friends (Chang-Tong, FurudeRika, and noa784) and set out to make this little prequel. It was like starting a new adventure, even though my old ones weren't really over yet.
I have to thank those three galz, because their awesome ideas are what ultimately saved this from being a self-insert. XD They all gave ideas for the plot, characters, and happening, and will (hopefully) continue to do so into our future.
Well, thanks for reading once again! I hope I can count on everyone reading this to leave a review. Even anonymous reviews are accepted!
Just know, any and all flames shall be discarded and their producer shall be reported to website officials.
Review, plz!