AUTHORS NOTE ONE: Hello ALL! After reading though these stories of great love, adventure, and sadness I've finally (after a year and a half) decided to put my own fingers to keys. I hope you all enjoy this story as it unfolds before you!

DISCLAIMER: Technically, I own this game... one of the Gamecube discs. I also own you! ( o ) _ ( o )

SPACE*

SPACE*

Prologue

Awaken

Storm clouds rolled overhead ushered along by the gale force winds that had preceded them. The ocean, under the storms sudden onslaught, was slamming its waters into the shoreline like a torrent. A small thin beam of light pierced the clouds from the heavens descending rapidly into the waters far below. Following in its wake was the flailing form of two humans thrashing about as each struggled for supremacy with his opponent mid fall. Fists, legs, and bodies flew about until one of the two managed to pin the other below him just before they made contact with the raging seas, and were swallowed.

It wasn't more than a minute later before a white haired head pierced the water's surface, the man's lungs were screaming for air. However, as soon as he sucked in his first breath his nerves were lit on fire forcing a cry of agony, along with what little oxygen he'd taken in, back through his lips. He… had to get to the shore and fast, or even after that escape this would be his end. Leaving the now dead body of his opponent to the ocean's clutches he started to swim as best he could through the waves and slowly intensifying pain. When an enormous wave finally threw him free of the malevolent grasp of the sea and onto the shoreline his pain reached a whole new level; one he liked to call 'how the HELL am I still conscious through this'. Steam rolled off every inch of his body as another cry of agony forced its way past his lips.

The burning pain suddenly gained a new companion as stabbing pain wracked his body, followed soon after by the screaming, cracking, and molding of his bones. He wasn't sure how long the episode lasted, only that when it was finally finished, he'd collapsed onto the sand before him panting heavily. His throat was sore, his body ACHED, he was starving, thirsty, and most of all – tired. So… very… very… tired. The soothing pelting of cold rain was his only relief as he drifted slowly off to sleep.

*****Separation Line*****

Violet eyes fluttered open slowly, groggily, and painfully. The scene that greeted him was different than the one he'd fallen asleep too. Sand and sky had been replaced by carved stones placed precisely to make a room. Weakly, the human pushed himself up into a sitting position letting the blankets fall in a heap around him. A small hand reached up and brushed a snowy lock of hair from before his eyes. His mind was a fog of confusion as he glanced around the elongated stone room. There were numerous beds, fifteen including his own, each with a chest of drawers at their base.

Where was he? How had he gotten here?

Slowly the human made his way from the bed, his muscles aching from… whatever had happened to him. He could not for the life of him recall much of anything at that point. Everything was a swirl of colors, smells, and sounds ramming against and meshing with each other in his mind. People would speak, voices he 'recognized', then they would merge with each other and split off onto entirely different topics. Shaking his head a few times, the snow haired human forced at least one of the images to solidify. A woman in robes, her eyes covered by a cloth, she was smiling. The image evoked many emotions all at once; joy, love, fear, and a resounding sadness – his Master… Mir.

After opening his eyes once more the human moved to take a step away from the bed, only to trip over his own feet. It was close, but he barely caught himself with the post of his recent accommodations. The floor was much closer than he remembered it being… his hands were smaller as well. Images clicked further into place in his head as past events seemed to unfold. Crashing, screaming, yelling… no, no they were all still too entwined. He could not yet tell fact from fabrication.

After glancing around the room once more, the human made his way over to a standing mirror. The sight that greeted him was familiar, though foreign. A young boy, probably seventeen or so that stood around five foot four(163cm) stared back at him. A boy with well tanned skin, hair that was white as snow fell messily around his head and just past his shoulders, deep violet eyes, and a well toned - but hardly muscular body. It was him… or was it… he felt like something was odd about his appearance. More images flashed through his mind causing the room to spin around like a top. The mirror was his only bracing, so he used it wisely.

"What's… going on," he questioned his reflection in the mirror. He knew what it was… it was right at the back of his mind, but every time he reached out to grasp at the knowledge it would disperse; like so much smoke in the wind.

"Ohh, you are awake," came the voice of a kindly old man. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Where… where am I?" Was the only question the boy could ask at that point. It seemed pointless to ask if the man could help with his memory. He wasn't IN any of them, of that, the boy was more than certain.

"You are in the Martel Temple north of Iselia," the kindly old robed man stated. His reply should have made sense… the boy guessed, but since he had no idea who or what 'Martel' was, it did not. He also didn't know where 'Iselia' was.

"Iselia… Martel Temple…" He repeated with confusion laced through his voice.

A concerned look crossed the elder's face as he raised the next question. "Can you tell me what your name is, or where you came from?"

"My… My name?" The boy asked the air around him as he turned to face the mirror once more. He knew what his name was… it was right there on the tip of his tongue… "My name is…" His eyes closed once more while visions of people flashed through his mind.

'Hello, Fayt, it's a pleasant morning, isn't it?' questioned younger girl who matured before his minds eyes.

'FAAAAAYYYYYTTTTTT!' Cried out yet another figure, this one male, and quit angry.

'Fayt,' the voice of the only one his mind had as of yet recognized – his Master.

"My name is Fayt, and I came from…" He paused, hoping for a similar situation, but was overloaded with names, places, scenes of towns, cities, and villages. "I don't…" he began then trailed off into a whisper, "I don't know."

"I see," the man nodded sagely as footsteps echoes into the room from outside… only there was a distinct 'clack' along with them.

"Father Falin, how is the boy," came an elderly female voice from outside of the room.

"He is awake Phaidra, but appears to have a slight case of amnesia. He said that his name is Fayt," the father stated as he turned to face the elderly woman who was slowly entering the room. When she finally came to stop beside the Father her face split apart with a light smile.

"You should put on more clothes boy; it's not exactly mid-summer outside." The elderly woman said with a laugh. Glancing down Fayt's face turned a distinct shade of red. He was just standing there in a pair of short black boxers. "The set of clothing on the bed next to the one you awoke on is for you. They should fit, though I cannot guarantee that it will not be loose. I'm afraid your own clothing was, for the most part, completely beyond repair. "

Fayt's eyes scanned the bed latching on to the specified articles. A black pair of pants, midnight blue tunic, and a sea blue long coat with some design he couldn't be sure of until he was actually holding it up. Sitting next to the bed were a pair of tall scratchy looking woolen socks, and black well worn leather boots. "Thank you," the snow haired boy whisper-mumbled as he moved to put on the free clothes.

"When you are clothed and feeling better, please feel free to come outside," the elderly woman – Phaidra said as she turned and left. The father followed immediately after her. Fayt's gaze moved across the clothing laid out before him and started where most people would in his mind. It was socks first, then the dark blue tunic, coat, pants, and lastly boots. He found a belt to help hold up the pants that kept wanting to fall down. Everything seemed… bigger than him. When it was all assembled he looked himself over in the mirror. His snowy locks were unruly, but he couldn't really do much about that. Bed head came with the terri… his mind latched onto a memory.

**Memory - Short**

'Fayt, this is a conference, you should have done something with your hair.' An older male voice stated.

'Sorry, ######" he replied with a smile and light laugh. "I tried, but it kept popping back into place like this.'

The man's hand reached up and brushed down his face as he sighed. A light mumble was just out of Fayt's earshot, but he heard the phrase 'she let you get away with'.

** Memory – End**

He'd sounded older… or more mature perhaps? That correlated with the strangeness that was making him think his appearance was just… odd, familiar, but odd. It far from explained the HOW of anything, but at least his mind was doing its best to sort everything out. Another question, why was the name hashed out in his mind? Was he blocking it, or had it simply not yet been placed?

The sea blue coat wasn't made of very thick cloth, it fell to his calves, and there was a pair of gloves inside of its right inner pocket, short ones, black, and fingerless. There was a golden design of some sort on the back of the coat that he didn't recognize in the least. The front buttoned down to his waist then stopped, and the back was split, apparently intentionally, starting from around where the buttons stopped in the front. The coat's white fur fringed hood he had tried on was an all encompassing enigma, he couldn't see very well with it on, so he left it thrown back. Over all, it was a bit too big for him, but not horribly so.

With one final glance around the room, Fayt readied himself to leave. Sitting here wouldn't accomplish anything. If nothing else, the short conversation with the two old people had jogged some of his memories. Perhaps they would be his ticket to completing the task, maybe even seeing the woman… his Master… Mir, again. His gaze landed on something sitting at his bedside, on a nightstand. Three small gems, two blues with black swirls throughout them set into earrings, and a viridian crystal attached to a long necklace cord.

His heart both soared through the infinite sky's and plunged to the icy depths of the ocean upon the sight. Memories rushed him all at once, happy ones, sad ones, mundane ones that no one would rightly remember. None of them were making any sense; he just, he recalled a large crystal formation sitting in the midst of a cave… His master was there with him… and he was younger than at this point. Snatching the objects up he clutched them to his chest as his heart tried to beat its way through his ribcage. They were warm, soothing, comforting, and joyful all at once, but there was a distinct sadness attached to them that he couldn't comprehend.

After putting the earrings on, and the cord with the viridian crystal around his neck then tucking it under his shirt, Fayt walked from the room. He was going to go and find the two old people, they might be able to tell him what these 'Martel' and 'Iselia' were, or at least feed him. His stomach had started to growl something fierce when he was getting dressed, and the glass of water at his bedside had been downed before exiting the room.

The temple was an absolute maze, and he had a feeling he hadn't even started to look through it properly. It was mostly living quarters and the like so far… or maybe he simply had a horrible sense of direction. He could swear he'd been in this meeting hall at least three times now. Though, in his defense, it DID have more than a few doors leading into it.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Came an elderly voice, a male one that he didn't recognize it. Perhaps that was where the two old people he'd met had gone to. With his next destination sorted out, Fayt made his move in that direction. The more old people around the better! All the more for helping speed along his memory sorting processes.

As his hands touched down on the large door his feet came to a stop. This… smell in the air, he recognized it, and the screams that followed after were beyond simply 'familiar'. His hand reached up and gripped at his head as more memories beat around trying to get him to pay more attention to them than their counterparts. Battles, fights, brawls, all flew through his mind in various locations. They all had one thing in common, each one had the prone body of someone lying on the ground in a puddle of blood… the smell… was blood.

Shoving the double doors open he took in a sight most horrid. There were twenty men dressed in uniforms lead by a single man with funny looking black hair. At their feet were six of the old people lying in slowly growing puddles of deep crimson. The old man that had first greeted him was sitting off to the side clutching at his blood covered chest and trying to force himself to his feet. The old woman with the cane – Phaidra, was standing in front of him, blocking their path into the temple. Fayt could FEEL the anger rolling off of the woman in waves.

With shock spread evidently across his face Fayt shouted out his question to the entire assembly, "what... What's going on here?"

SPACE*

SPACE*

AUTHORS NOTE TWO: Hope you liked it! If you did... great, if you didn't then... *tears up* I... I... *starts crying*

I'd say about 80% of the story should be from Fayt's perspective, but there will be other chapters from the girls as well. It makes things all the more fun, and in case I split the group up, it gives you a wider range of what is going on.

Date: 01/26/14

REVIEWS: I LOVE THEM! Good ones, bad ones, hate ones, any and all forms that don't include insults to my mother are welcome. They are the sunlight to the plant that is my writers soul.