The Dark Wind the Full Moon

by Tsakhi

When worlds collide, disaster is nigh. A story I wrote for a Halloween Fan fic contest. This is rated Teen for adult language, scary situations, and gruesome imagery. Viewer Discretion is advised.

The Dark Wind; the Full Moon

Part One: Dreaming Life; Living Nightmares

The lightening streaked across the sky like a heavenly earthquake, cracking the ebony heavens with a loud clap. From the depths of his dream, Magus surfaced and opened his eyes just as the flash died down and slithered down the shutters insidiously. He was neither impressed nor amused at the bitch he called "Nature" waking him up with such dramatics.

I swear, if Nature were a tangible being, I'd choke her, shove my scythe down her throat and...

Another stroke of lightening snapped the rest of his thoughts in half and he glared at the shutters as they quaked and spilled rays of silver light across his bare torso and pale face.

An encore, how considerate.

He sat up, gathered the tattered sheets around his unclad waist, and waited for the next stream of light to invade his room.

Come on, I dare you...

Bade he silently, glaring at the shuttered windows, and waiting for the sky to concur. However, the sky, being the wayward personality that it is, expelled a discontent sigh opposed to a growl.

Thanks for waking me up; next time, perhaps, you could do it when I'm having a nightmare.

With a sigh, he leaned back against the cool, wooden, headboard and cast his eyes up toward the dilapidated ceiling.

The castle I built from memory is as unstable as the memory from which it was built.

The cracks and warps in the masonry reflected his nightmares with ironic accuracy and he often cursed the ceiling and, deep down, its creator, for sneering down at him in such a condescending manner.

Hmph. Just another crack in my sanity, mother dearest, thanks for caring.

The cracks in the ceiling shifted and formed into his mother's sardonic smile.

So you still insist on haunting me, even after your ascension? I can't, and won't, forget what you forced upon Schala and I. You regretted nothing, even as you lay at our feet, bleeding traitor's blood.

The lips forming the cracks of her smile, folded down into a frown and then quivered, sending several chunks of stone and dust down at the young sorcerer. With a curse, he rolled out of bed, dodging the rain of rocks as he spun to his feet.

"That's not going to help you, you know?" he breathed, looking up at the now silent ceiling. The ceiling simply creaked in response and Magus straightened his back and closed his eyes with exasperation.

You don't give up, do you?
A drop of water settling on top of his head, snapped him from his reveille and with a start, he jumped back and opened his eyes. Above him, carved in the stones of his ceiling, was Zeal's distraught face, stained with rainwater tears and dirt formed blood.

"Leave me be, that will not work, mother!" he hissed, closing his eyes and tilting his head down and to the side.

Why must magic bare the user's soul when it's weakest?"

When he felt that the danger of being overwhelmed had passed, he slowly opened his eyes and looked up. Much to his relief, he found that his ceiling was normal and bore only non-descript cracks and notches.

Thank the darkness for small favors.

With that thought thrown to the calming night sky, Magus climbed back into bed and drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

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Leland Gaunt leaned back against the rocking chair's rib like backing and buffed his nails as a young woman shuffled through his wares. He was oh so patient when it came to waiting for an opportune chance to strike.

"You have a lot of interesting things here, Mr. Gaunt." said the young woman, her voice light with impressed joy and awe.

"Of course, my dear, I pride myself on being eclectic" smiled Leland, ceasing his buffing to look up at the young woman and give her a kind, albeit toothy, smile. The purple haired young lady flinched inwardly but did not show her discomfort openly toward the kind and elderly man.

That would be rude of me; after all, he was kind enough to show me all of these things per my request.

"You must have some awesome connections." said she, picking up a small cylinder with several rings interlocking around it. Leland nodded and rose from his seat, placing the buffer into his pocket with the finesse of a world-class magician.

"Firstly, I feel rather uncomfortable with such formalities, I'd prefer for us to be on first name basis; not only is it good business technique it is also a way for me to connect with my costumers and hopefully become their friend." confided the ever worldly Mr. Gaunt. The young woman smiled warmly and offered her hand.

"Lucca Ashtear, I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Gaunt."

Leland took her hand into his and shook it soundly, his old face pulling into a satisfied grin.

"Please call me Leland, Lucca." spoke he, in a lilting accent that Lucca could not quite place.

"Okay, Leland, the pleasure is all mine." said Lucca, pulling her hand away from his and resisting the urge to shudder; his hands were like cold marble coated with tightly pulled leather.

Why doesn't he have any wrinkles on his palms?

"So, Lucca my dear, did you find anything of interest?" asked Leland, dusting his hand against his side amiably and then letting it come to rest on the counter behind him as calmly as you please. Lucca nodded and held up the cylinder that her hand had been grasping tightly during the whole, almost unpleasant, exchange.

"How much is this?" inquired she, watching as Leland declined his head and pressed the glasses that were adorning his face firmly against the bridge of his nose.

"The better question would be, dear Lucca, how much are you willing to pay?" Lucca shrugged to this question and placed the cylinder lightly back down on the counter and then looked at Leland skeptically; she knew this trick all too well, it was a common tactic in resell.

You study your customer as a predator would its prey. You send your proverbial feelers out and you search for what you need in the customer's words, actions, and eyes. I don't care much for my position.

"At the moment I'm not willing to pay anything, Leland, I'm broke." confessed Lucca with mock regret; the truth of the matter was, she had plenty of money, she just didn't want to give him any.

"I see, Lucca..." replied Leland after studying her clouded face for a moment or two.

She is lying, I can tell it as sure as I breathe.

"You know, my dear Lucca; prices are not always monetary, sometimes they come in the form of favors or requests. Would you be willing to pay that price?"

Lucca took a couple of steps back unknowingly, her eyes locking with his.

Perhaps I should buy it, I'm sure I could find a use for it...

Deeper still, however, a mindful reflection spoke with cautious lips.

He is up to something, do not fall for it.

Lucca blinked; hence breaking the "spell" that Leland had so expertly weaved around her.

"Hey, listen, Mr. Gaunt; it's been nice talking to you, but I really must go, it's getting late." nodded Lucca, giving him her back and walking toward the bell-laced door.

"Ah, that's quite alright, Madam Lucca; I shall be here for awhile." smiled the old man, his sharpened teeth pressing against his pale lips with annoyance.

There will be other opportunities, my dear, there always are.

Lucca gave him a wave and exited the shop, leaving Leland with but a trace of her perfume and the sound of those damn bells.

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Crono...

A sound, similar to a heart throb, surrounded him in a muggy pocket.

Crono, wake up, please.

He slowly opened his eyes to the pleading voice, only to find himself staring into complete darkness.

Please find me, it's so dark.

Darting his eyes from side to side, he felt an emotion similar to fear immobilizing him.

Where am I?

There was no answer to his unspoken question so he bade his mind to be silent.

"He-hello?" dripped the young man's voice from stiff lips.

"So dark..." whispered a voice from behind his frozen form. He felt a chuckle breeze by his neck and then mingle with the pulsating darkness.

"Yes, yes it is, but what does that matter?" inquired he, his lips now thawing from the freeze of fear.

"I'm afraid of the dark." whined the voice from behind, shifting to his right as it faded into the heartbeat.

"It's okay, you shouldn't be afraid of the dark." cooed Crono, his eyes drawing toward the sound of the voice.

"I shouldn't be afraid of the dark", you say?

The darkness shifted and gathered into a darker smile, its teeth dripping with shadowy blood and smelling of damp decay.

A choked scream fell heavily to his feet and he tried to jerk himself from the gripping hands of what we call fear; of course, as with all things dark and scary, escaping is not that easy. The mouth opened wide, sinking half of the darkness into oblivion.

Do you fear me now, dear Crono?

I feared you from the word go! Now stop it, st--

The oblivion lined jaws closed around his squirming, fear consumed, form and devoured him into the belly of despair.

He had no last words but he did have a lost though, one which was tinged with both fear and disbelief; he was the hero of time being consumed by the ironic demon called nothingness

Crono...

He blinked awake with a start and looked blearily up at his mother.

"Wh-what?" inquired the young man through a mouth of cotton.

"I came up to tell you that supper was ready..." her brow furrowed with concern as she continued "But then I found you clutching the covers to your chest and whimpering. Is something wrong, dear?" inquired his mother as she continued to look down at him with maternal care.

"No, just a nightmare" he breathed as he released the covers from his chest and sat up slowly, taking care not to stir his already ringing skull.

"Well, it must've been a whopper; I haven't seen you that frightened since..." her voice trailed off as her face darkened into a shadow of depression. Crono quickly stood up and embraced his mother, not wanting her to finish that sentence for both of their sakes.

"I know, mom, it's not going to happen again. Ever." whispered he into his mother's hair and then pulling way with a sheepish smile.

"So, what's for supper?"

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Leland shuffled through his various wares with exasperation; maintaining an illusion through both time and dimensions was tiring to say the least

"And the fact that these idiots seem to have no needs is getting a bit irritating..." added the demon aloud as he picked up half a tube of cherry lipstick and glanced at it thoughtfully.

"Oh, this belonged to the dear, sweet, Marilyn Monroe; I am amazed that it lasted this trip. Hmm." he held it between his thumb and forefinger and lifted it to the fading light, examining it as he twisted it around.

He closed his eyes and drank in the memories from the small, plastic, tube, smiling as her tormented last thoughts flooded through his body and seeped out of his pores in a black, sticky, aura.

It's amazing what one can obtain from a friendly barter.

Opening his eyes, he gave the tube one more glance before shoving it into one of the many boxes housed in his small shop.

They'd have no use for this, I'm sure.

"No use at all." mused Leland out loud, rising from his stoop and ambling toward his room in a casual gait.

It truly amazes me how quickly the people of this town accepted me... He grinned a mouthful of points as he turned his dusty sign from "Come in, we're open" to "Sorry, we're closed; please come again. Leland's Thrift and Exotic Goods Shop."

It'll be Castle Rock all over again.

"Ha. And, if I am lucky, I may even collect some souls while I am here."

With a chopped laugh, he opened the door to his room, walked through, and shut the door with a muffled thud as he turned on the lights and got ready for bed.

Another day, another dollar, after all.

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Marle watched from her room's window as the moon rose in the east, casting its pale light upon her upturned face.

There's only a few more days until Halloween, I wonder what I should do to celebrate?

A knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts and she turned around to face it.

"Yeah?" she asked, trying to sound as regal as possible.

"Princess, some of your friends are here to see you, shall I let them in?" inquired a random guard from the other side of the wooden portal. Marle blew a lock of blonde hair from her forehead and quietly made her way across the room.

No, I want you to send them away immediately... Of course I want you to let them in.

"Of course I want you to let them in!" she sighed loudly, unlocking the door and opening it to find Lucca and Crono smiling sheepishly on the other side.

"Can I do anything else for you, Princess Nadia?" inquired the red-faced guard, bowing deeply and taking a couple of steps back.

"Arislan, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop calling me that; it makes me feel all snotty and embarrassed!" she huffed, lightly tapping him on the side of his head with her outstretched hand. "Now go, Arislan, before I teach you a lesson you won't soon forget." smiled the princess mischievously, rolling back her make believe sleeves. Arislan's smile became visible as he lifted his head up to meet Marle's gaze.

"Alright, Marle, but you do realize I do that because your father tells me to." chuckled Arislan, bowing to Marle one more time before exiting the hallway via the stairs that led to the main foyer.

"What are you two waiting for; come on in!" smiled the young princess, wrapping one arm around Crono's shoulder and the other one around Lucca's.

They did not hesitate as Marle dragged them into the room and shut the door behind them with a shove from her foot.

"I see your guards are still as clueless as ever." smiled Lucca, as Marle unwound her arm from around the young inventor's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'd say; I swear, no matter how many times I tell them, there's always one that just has to be special." laughed Marle, pulling away from Crono as well and walking toward her window.

Crono, despite his warm feelings toward the two ladies, could only muster a forced smile.

"Yeah, they are pretty clueless." was his addendum as he leaned against the door, looking across the room and out the window.

"Man, it's nice and cool tonight, just as an October night should be." hummed Marle, pressing her hands against the window sill and leaning her head out, her smile widening as the wind's hand pushed strands of hair across her face and toward the ebony sky.

"Wild nights are my glory as they represent me." quipped Lucca, crossing the room and sitting down on Marle's bed, per normality. Marle pulled her head in and looked at her friend with admirable surprise.

"That's beautiful, Lucca, did you make that up?" inquired the shocked princess, her smile still there but astonished.

Lucca blushed to this and bowed her head, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear before speaking again.

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure it's been said before; it's really not a big deal..."

Marle shook her head, her smile now drooping a bit into a displeased frown.

"No, that won't do at all! Hey, Lucca..." she sat down beside her friend and put her arm around her shoulder. Lucca blinked and looked at Marle, her eyes reflecting

What do you want?

the question her lips dared not say.

"I think you should have more confidence in yourself! I mean, look at you." gestured Marle with a pale hand at Lucca's frame. "You have it all! Good looks, brains, a good sense of humor; I've said it once and I'll say it again, I'd trade my ancestry for your brilliance any day!"

Lucca took in a deep breath and patted Marle lightly on the knee, closing her eyes halfway as she did so.

"That's sweet of you to say, Marle, but I'm not that great. "

Crono, who had watched this exchange with a certain degree of amusement, pushed himself away from the door with a smile.

"Hey, listen, you two; you each have something wonderful so don't argue about it." came his voice from seemingly far away. The two ladies looked at him, trying to decipher the expression on his face, which fell between amusement, grief, and embarrassment.

"Crono?" whispered Lucca, standing up and out of Marle's embrace and crossing the room toward him. Marle, wisely, remained on the bed and looked at Crono with concern.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking down at Lucca as she stood before him.

"Is something wrong; you haven't been yourself all night?"

The young swordsman shook his head to this and rested his hand on her shoulder.

"It's just a dream, don't worry about it."

Lucca tilted her head to the side skeptically and put her hand on top of his.

"I'm not going to stop worrying just because you told me to; tell me... no, tell us about your dream." said Lucca, her voice indicating that this was a demand and not a request.

"Okay, okay, stop looking at me as if you're about to eat me! I'll tell you..." and, with that, Crono recounted his reoccurring dream to the two ladies of his life.

"So that's what's been going on, huh? Why didn't you tell us sooner, dummy?" sniffed Lucca, smacking the backside of Crono's head with her palm.

"Huh? Ow! I don't know, I just figured that it wouldn't matter." frowned Crono, rubbing the back of his buzzing head.

"Well, it does matter, especially if it puts you into a bad mood." added Marle, punching his shoulder.

"Ow! Why are you two so abusive to me!" pouted Crono, scooting playfully toward the window.

"Because..." Lucca pointed out "you're a dumb guy and like dumb sheep, dumb guys need to be led away from danger."

Marle laughed to this and nodded her head in agreement.

"Yeah, yeah, so I'm a dumb sheep, sue me!" huffed Crono jestingly, sitting down on the bed and looking at the two women sulkily.

"Okay, you owe me 50,000 Gold for taking care of your sheep ass for so long." laughed Lucca, sitting down beside her friend and extending an empty hand in front of his face.
"Aw man..." sighed he, looking down at Lucca's hand. It was going to be a long night, of this he was certain.

Part Two: A Foolish Man Reaps an Empty Field.

"So, what is this supposed to be?" asked Magus, pointing to a green, glowing, potion.

"That..." rasped the old merchant, twitching his eye, "Is supposed to be a potion of knowledge, a very dangerous thing."

"I see, and, pray tell, how much would you want for such a potion?" inquired the sorcerer, narrowing his scarlet eyes into slits.

The old man's lips twitched into an incredulous smile as he pulled the potion toward him.

"Come here, young man." motioned the merchant with a gnarled finger. Magus expelled an exasperated breath but nonetheless concurred.

"What?" he asked with no shortage of irritation.

"This potion, it is not what you think it is. It is, in its entirety, nothing but syrup with green preservatives thrown in for good measure. What you seek, dear sir, is not in this, or any other bottle; no, what you seek lies within you and only you. A wise man reaps the harvest of knowledge daily, lest his crops wither and die, whilst a foolish man reaps an empty field. Do you understand?"

Magus pulled back, a look of suspicion replacing the look of incredulity.

"Just who are you, old man? A normal merchant would have neither the honesty nor the knowledge that you posses."

The old man chuckled and then coughed into a gloved hand.

"There are mirrors, dear child, mirrors that reflect different worlds; I am but a reflection cast by one of those." was the old man's answer. Magus stepped back, his narrowed eyes widening into surprised circles.

"There is something you're not telling me, old man, and that makes me irritated." warned the magician, crossing his arms protectively across his chest.

Blocking the cold out... Cold here, cold in there... so cold.

"You are very observant, Magus, and I suppose that I shouldn't keep things to myself. Come in, dark mage, I can tell you much but I suspect that I will receive little in return." mused the geezer, gesturing for Magus to enter his hut that crouched innocently behind him, after a moment or two of deliberation, Magus did just that.

Magus leaned against the wall and watched the shadows of the fire dance across the hut's dimly lit walls in amorphous shapes. His nose picked up several scents, the most prominent one being, of course, medicinal herbs.

"I suppose I owe you an explanation." creaked the old man as he removed his shawl and threw it on his bed. Magus tilted his head to the side but said nothing.

"I guess I should start off with who I am." noted the man, turning a withered face in Magus' direction. Inwardly, the mage cringed and wished that the old man would cover his face up again.

"That would be nice, yes."

The merchant chuckled to this and nodded, sitting down across the room from Magus so that the shadows played across his wrinkled face as it had against the walls.

"I am the reaper and the planter. I exist to both imbed hope and to instill fear. What I am about to tell you will either send you into a rage or answer questions that you may have already surmised."

Magus raised his hand then to silence the old one.

"This is about Schala, isn't it?" he asked calmly, his eyes dimming to a deep, rust, red.

"Aye, it is, and I fear that you will not like it."

"Schala toes the line of eternity; she is neither dead nor alive but somewhere in between. She lives in your heart, this is so, but she also lives above your breast." The old man pointed a bony finger toward Magus' pendant.

"Within that pendant lies Schala's essence, you need not a Chrono Trigger to bring her back, but you do need a clone to replace her. In other words, your memories will act as the "Chrono Trigger" while the clone will serve its ultimate purpose as a scrape goat. I will warn you, though, after obtaining the clone your journey to retrieve Schala will not be pleasant, nor will it be through any earthly plane. You must traverse your heart, mind, and memories to retrieve what is truly Schala. Can you do that, Magus?" inquired the old man, tilting his palm skyward in a motion of inquisition.

"Yes, but I think I will have to get out of this era to get said clone." mused Magus, turning toward the door and pulling the flap back.

"Indeed, the age of darkness is not know for its ray of hope." mused the old man, standing up and reaching for his cloak. Magus paused, the rough fabric of the hut's door still clasped in his cold and slightly shaking hands.

"Once I get the clone, what do I do?" he inquired, looking back toward the old merchant, his eyes sparkling dully with hope.

"You come back to me and I will guide you there." responded the merchant.

"And what should I call you, old man?"

The aging peddler laughed to this and waved a dismissive, age spotted, hand.

"You may call me Naimreg."

Magus nodded to this and looked out the door, noting that tiny snowflakes were starting to fall from the charcoal colored sky.

"Very well, Naimreg, we shall meet again." With that, he exited the tent, leaving the old man to his own devices.

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"I see, and that's all you have?" mourned Marle as she looked at Leland's collection. Inwardly, Leland snarled and wished desperately to rip the "princess" a new breathing hole... preferably at her throat but he wasn't picky.

"I fear such is the case, madam, I regret that nothing strikes your fancy." he said evenly, looking at her with cool interest.

"It's not so much that you don't have anything, it's just that you don't have what I need."

Well, this struck the demon's interest and he raised an eyebrow.

"What is it you seek, princess? I'm sure that I can help you in someway."

"Well, you see Leland, my boyfriend has been having nightmares and..."

Leland halted her sentence by raising his hand in a silencing gesture.

"Say no more, dear princess for I have just the thing. One moment please." And, with that, he disappeared into the dark crevice of the store room. For some reason, Marle had this overwhelming urge to haul royal ass out of there; but, of course, Crono was on her mind so she dismissed that idea as soon as it came up.

It's just my imagination; Leland seems like a nice enough man...

Leland pawed around in the boxes, looking for a trinket that he could sell for a favor. He lifted out a dead tarantula, its legs shriveled toward its hairy body and its mandibles squeezed together in terror.

"Ah, I remember you; sneaky little bastard you were. Thought you could bite me, kill me, and collect my soul... shows how much you knew." mused the old darkling, licking his lips and drawing a gossamer strand of web from it plump behind.

"Disgusting but fascinating creatures you are..." he grunted as he shoved a needle through the middle of the spider's body and poked the strand of web through the eye. "But at least you will serve some purpose." he continued as he pulled the web through the center of the body, making a crude, spider necklace.

"Now to weave a spell." drawing in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and drew upon the darkness known as ignorance, silently chanting an ancient, well weaved, spell. When he opened his crinkled eyes, the crude spider necklace had morphed into a beautiful, intricately woven, gold band.

"This will do fine, I think." the demon mused, a cruel smile tugging his pale lips up and toward his ears.

Now to see if she takes the bait.

Leland walked out with the golden trinket in his hand and a big smile on his face. Marle, however, didn't return the smile; something felt wrong about all of this.

"What is that?" she inquired pointing a well-polished fingernail toward the trinket.

"This, my dear, is an Akräsha, a necklace woven to catch bad dreams and return them to whence they came. "Did you notice how the Akräsha is shaped? There's a reason for that, you see..."

"The circle of the necklace represents the stream of thought and the weaves act as a net?" interrupted the princess, both surprising and irritating the devilish clerk.

"That is, indeed, the case young princess. You are very bright, I am sure your boyfriend is proud. By the way..." he started, placing the necklace down in front of her and leaning casually against the counter.

"What is your name, dear child?"

Marle hesitated for a moment or two before answering.

"My name is Marle..."

"Ah, a lovely name, very exotic! Now, Marle, tell me; how much would you be willing to pay for your boyfriend's solace?"

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Marle walked through town, swing the Akräsha cheerfully in her hand as she hummed a marching tune; she only had to pay fifty-five gold pieces for this wonderful trinket and complete a totally harmless prank on Lucca. In her opinion, this had been an awesome day and she had a feeling it was about to get better. Oh, how wrong was she.

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Lucca bumped her head on the lampshade as she lifted it with a start. Someone had knocked on the door hard enough to shake the walls.

Who, she thought as her face shaded with irritation would knock so hard to get my attention? It had best not be those damn bill collectors. She rose from her chair and walked toward the door, wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve as her free hand reached for the door.

Stupid jerks...

Her face shocked white when she saw Marle standing at the door, a huge smile on her face and a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Marle, what are you...?" Marle silenced the young genius by pressing a regal finger to her lips and shaking her head slowly back and forth.

"Hush, it's a secret, may I come in?" She inquired, looking behind Lucca in an almost suspicious manner.

"Umm, sure, come on in." mused Lucca against Marle's finger before stepping back and to the side to allow Marle passage into the house.

"Thank you, Lucca; I have something very important to tell you." exclaimed the young queen to be as she rushed in and sat down in one of the four chairs Lucca had strewn around the living area.

"And then Crono said that he wanted to see you! Can you believe that! I mean, wow, Lucca, can you imagine? Crono said that about you!" harped Marle, practically leaping out of the chair with jubilation. Lucca's face clouded with apprehension as she looked at the floor.

If Crono really did say that, perhaps I should go and talk to him, maybe I'm missing out... maybe there's still a chance.

"Marle, are you sure you're not imagining things? Crono isn't exactly the romantic type, you know; besides, he likes you a lot better. " pronounced Lucca carefully, making sure to keep her voice cool and in control.

I imagine she will be in disbelief, but do not let that stop you, dear Marle, keep at it and drive the point home, lie if you have to.

Marle shook Leland's words out of her head as she continued.

"I'm serious, I'm not hallucinating, Lucca! I heard him say that to his mom! Come on, Lucca, you know I wouldn't lie about such a thing."

Lucca pondered this bit of information as well, it was most certainly true that Marle was not the lying type; but still, something struck her as odd and she didn't like that feeling one bit.

With a sigh, Lucca sat down knelt down in front of Marle, her intense eyes locking onto Marle's doe like ones.

"I know you'd never lie to me, Marle, and I'm sorry if you thought that; I'm just really leery is all. You know how I feel about Crono and it would be foolish of me to jeopardize a perfectly good friendship with a possibly intimate relationship."

Although I wish with all my heart that he could be mine.

"I... Lucca, I just want us all to be happy; I really do."

And Lucca wanted to believe that but...

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Lucca stood outside Crono's front door, pushing a strand of wayward hair behind her ear with one hand while her other hung limply, almost dejectedly, by her side. She knew what she wanted to ask but she didn't know how to ask it.

It's like a question with an answer that doesn't make sense. I want to know but I'm afraid that I won't understand the outcome.

As she lifted her hand into a fist, the door opened suddenly and she stumbled back a couple of steps. Standing in the dimming light, Crono stared down at her with blank eyes and tightly drawn lips.

"Crono?" she stuttered, taking a couple of steps forward, her hand outstretched in front of her in a taming manner.

"Hello, Lucca, nice to see you again." droned Crono, tilting his head to the side and pulling his tight lips into a forced smile.

"Um, hi, Crono, what's up?" she asked, dropping her hand casually to her side and smiling, albeit less forcefully, at the young swordsman.

"What's up? Why, the heavens, of course, dear Lucca." he responded, his lips peeling back to reveal glimmering, saliva coated, teeth. Lucca flinched her eyes down to his throat and noted the pendant looped around his muscular neck .

"Where did you get that?" she asked, pointing to it, her eyes watching each bit of dying sunlight that danced across the gilded surface.

"This?" he asked, lifting it up into his callused palm, the almost insane grin still on his face. "This was a gift from Marle; it was so sweet of her to think of me. Don't you think so, Lucca?" he asked, snapping her out her transfixed gaze. She blinked the spots of sunlight from her eyes and looked at him suspiciously. Something was up and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

"I think it is sweet, Crono, but I also think she tricked you; there's nothing sweet about what it's doing to you." she whispered, taking a step closer and for the first time realizing that Crono was starting to stink.

It smells like death... but that's impossible, he's not dead!

"What's it doing?" he murmured on, straightening up his neck, the smile fading from his face with the dying light.

"I don't know, Crono, but I think it may be killing you. Just look at you, you look like the walking dead."

Crono's insane smiled pierced the darkness as he spoke once again.

"It's not killing me, it's letting me live! Don't you see, Lucca, this is the best thing for me. Never again will I have to suffer with my dreams and wrestle with my thoughts. I won't have to struggle with my feelings... and..." his smile faded a bit now. "I won't have to choose between you two."

"Crono, you wouldn't have to anyway; I'll back down if it means you'll take off that pendant. You're changing Crono, right before my eyes, and I don't like it." pleaded Lucca as she took a step forward and reached for the pendant.

"No!" hissed Crono as he stumbled back and glared at her with hateful eyes. "You won't take it from me. It's a gift, a gift don't you understand? I'll guard and cherish it with my... life." he concluded, his eyes rolling back in his skull as he finished his sentence. Out of instinct, Lucca pulled the gun from her pouch and aimed it at Crono.

"You're not Crono anymore, are you?" inquired Lucca coolly, wrapping her finger around the trigger and smiling remorsefully.

"Who in this world is honest about their identity? Can you say that you are, Lucca? You walk around everyday, living a mundane life with seemingly no meaning at all; sure you claim to live for me but..."

Lucca shook her head and tightened her finger on the trigger, as her other hand flew to the safety in preparation to release it.

"Whoever you are, you're not who I lived for. Sure, you have his body, hell, you even have his voice; but I'm willing to bet that Crono's soul is already gone. Am I right?"

Crono grasped his chin with one hand as his other snaked around to the back of his head.

"Man wears a mask, not to fit in, but to hide his true self from the world." and, with that, he jerked hands quickly to the side and snapped his own neck. Lucca screamed as he fell at her feet, writhing and spewing bloodied foam.

"Crono... no..." she whispered as she backed up, her gun still trained on his twitching form. His form twitched for a moment or two more before it fell into still silence.

"Crono...?" she whimpered, lowering the gun to her side and looking down at him apprehensively.

"Never bring a gun to a sword fight." whispered his blood clotted voice from the ground. She scrambled back, raising the gun from its neutral position at her side.

"You're not..."

Crono stood up suddenly, his chin touching the back part of his shoulder, his lips trembling bloodily in fervor.

"No, I'm not Crono..." he rasped, pulling the sword from its sheathe and spinning it around his head a couple of times before settling it inches away from Lucca's throat.

"Checkmate." smiled Lucca, pressing the gun against his belly and firing a round into it. Crono warbled in surprise and jumped back several inches falling to one knee.

"Stupid bitch, you stupid..." his sentence and head were blown off before he could finish his vulgar speech. Chunks of bone embedded brain smeared down the outside of Crono's house and fell with a silenced plop into the grass.

"Oh my god, what did I do?" she whimpered, dropping the gun to the ground and lowering herself beside Crono's headless form.

"Happy Halloween!" exclaimed a voice from behind Lucca. Quickly, she rose to her feet , grabbing her gun as she did so, and aimed the gun at the intruder. Marle threw her arms above her head in defeat and laughed.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there Lucca! It's me, Mar-- Oh my god... " she gasped as she shot a glance behind Lucca and discovered Crono's form minus a head.

"What did you do?" she whimpered, shifting her tearing eyes to the young inventor.

"He was... a ... zombie, Marle! I had to..."

Marle shook the rest of the sentence away with a frantic wag of her head.

"No, you don't get it, Lucca; this was our Halloween joke."

There was silence and then Lucca shouted angrily at the cold wind. Somewhere in the night, Leland was walking into the pale moonlight, laughing to himself as his belongings bounced against his shoulders.

Part Three: Retrieving Memories; Finding Sorrow

Magus walked through the Millennial Fair in a hurry; he had not the time or the patience to deal with any wayward imbeciles.

I have to do this now; I may not get another chance.

He walked into Bekklar's tent and punched the bell to get Norstein's attention. The disembodied head and hands floated out and regarded Magus edgily.

"You really have some nerve coming in here like that and punching the stuffing out of my bell! Really, you should..."

"Spare me the dramatics, Bekklar, I'm not in the mood." intervened the sorcerer, waving a dismissive hand toward the clone maker. The head sighed and then bounced up and down impatiently.

"So, what is it you want?" he inquired testily, not wanting to in the presence of the arrogant wizard.

"I need a clone of Schala and I need it now." growled the aforementioned mage, glaring a proverbial hole into Bekklar.

"Pshaw, fine, whatever; show me what she looks like." demanded the duplicator, placing his pale hands on either side of Magus' head and concentrating, extracting memories from the irritable magician.

"Alright, it'll only take a moment." reassured Bekklar as he went into the backroom to start with a clone.

"Thanks." Magus said simply, eyeing the darkness impatiently. Moments later, Schala's clone was in his arms, money was in Bekklar's hands and all was right with the world... at that moment.

"I am here now, Naimreg, tell me what to do." demanded Magus as he busted into the potion maker's tent.

"Ah, yes, you're here. Sit down, it'll only be a moment." said the old man from the shifting shadows.

"I don't have a moment so..." his words dripped off and faded as he drifted off into a spell induced slumber.

"That is fine, I'm in a hurry to help you see the truth." smiled Naimreg to Magus' sleeping form.

The shadows from the winter sun moved tranquilly through the curtains and across Magus' closed eyes.

"Augh, stupid sun..." he lamented as he opened his eyes and looked up at the sun-laced ceiling.

"Janus, you really shouldn't curse the sun like that; the sun is a light that we all should appreciate." came Schala's voice from the door.

"Schala?" muttered Magus as he rose from the bed and looked toward the small frame in the doorway.

"Yes, dear brother, I am here." flittered Schala's voice to the mage's tingling ears.

"Come closer, Schala, I haven't seen you in so long." implored the magician, regretting that he sounded so petulant as he spoke.

"Whatever do you mean, Janus; we're always together." punctuating her sentence was a bright flash of light followed by the screams of seemingly all of Zeal.

"Janus... you cannot stop fate." filtered Schala's voice through the blinding light.

"Schala, NO!" gasped Magus as he reached a searching hand toward the voice.

"Don't fight it, fighting fate only leads to destruction." faded Schala's voice from afar.

"Follow the leader..." cried a child's voice beyond his sight.

"Follow the leader?" he muttered in a sticky voice as he opened his eyes. Before him was darkness punctuated by windows of difference sizes and shapes.

He rose to his feet and looked out a window that was in a shape of a triangle; beyond it he saw beautiful hills of green frosted with sparkling dew and hazy, white, fog.

Where is this?

"I see you found my home, welcome." chuckled Schala's voice from behind him. Quickly, he whirled around, and was greeted only by a cold wind and disembodied chuckling.

"This is... your home, Schala?" he inquired quietly as he touched the windowsill, his face set in wonder, and his eyes dull with understanding.

"It is, that is why I do not want to leave. You do understand, right Magus?" inquired Schala's voice from beyond the fog. Magus nodded to this and looked forward down the dark path.

"What should I do, then?" he asked shakily, not knowing what other action to take.

"Follow the leader, of course." laughed Schala, her laughter fleeing into the misty hills. Magus looked forward again and discovered that the path was now clearly marked with deep stains of blood and the windows were starting to shutter themselves shut.

"No, wait, I want to see Schala!" he exclaimed as he ran to a now closed window.

"What, why...?" breathed the confused mage, his feet glued to the ground.

"Follow the leader, because that is how fate goes." demanded the child's voice, snapping the bonds of fear that had snaked around Magus' ankles. Magus nodded to this and followed the stains of gore, his heart growing heavier with each step.

"They say that one door opens as the other closes; life is no exception to this rule. Life and death are doors, when the door of life closes, the door of death opens. Do not fear death as it is but another life in the shadows of what has been and what will be." explained the child's voice from behind him.

"What, who is that!" hiss Magus, whirling around and once again catching nothing but darkness.

"I am wisdom. Listen to me when I say this, turn around; Schala is happy and does not need you now."

Magus shook his head and then faced forward once again, his face pulled into a determined grimace.

"No, I've come this far, I will not turn back now."

"Sometimes turning back is the only way to catch the past; trust me or become lost in the oblivion of thought." warned the voice as Magus started to walk forward.

"My past scares me more than my future; I'm sure you can understand that."

"I can, but I also understand that, if you don't look back now, you'll not get a second chance."

"And what will happen if I don't look back now?"

"You will be lost for all of eternity in this world; living a life of regret and remorse, saying to yourself

"If only I had glanced back one more time..." Magus, you do not want to live the rest of your life in the shadow of another's. Trust me, I..."

"Enough, I came here to retrieve my memories and my sister; you'll not stand in my way. Furthermore, if I must spend the rest of my life here, I will gladly pay that price." responded Magus, pulling his cape around his body and charging forward into the unknown future.

"You should have followed the leader." mouthed Schala silently behind the determined magus, her body flickering in and out of the shadows like fading candle light. However, Magus neither heard nor saw the shade of his sister; he was too busy looking into a future that was as uncertain as fate itself.

"My dear brother, Fate was the leader and you refused to follow it; now your future is unknown, your soul unbound and floating freely through the void of time and space. Godspeed to you brother, may you find what you're looking for at the end of the long, winding ,road." concluded his sister silently as she wrapped her arms across her chest and faded back into the corridors of time, memory, and death.

Outside of Magus' shell, the old man looked down at the now deceased sorcerer, his eyes twinkling with embittered tears and his chin quivering with emotion.

"So you chose not to listen to me after all, my dear son." mourned Naimreg as he covered the cooling Magus with his shawl.

"I tried to tell you to retrieve her memories from the past and yet you decided to charge forth into the unknown future, chasing shadows of what may or may not be. Foolish man, foolish, foolish, man." concluded the old master of potions, rising from his seat and walking toward the door.

"I shall not forget you, dear son." and, with that, he blinked out of existence, as a reflection would when darkness fell.

Fin