Fantasy Wars (Any suggestions for an interesting title?)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of Square Enix's RPG characters.
A/N: This story was originally begun by me in early 2008. Believe it or not, the jumbling of FF and other RPG characters was always in the back of my mind, LONG before it was made into a game such as Disidia. That aside, I had mixed feelings about the aforementioned game, almost feeling like I deserved a cut of the profits...
On a side note, this story is to be read like a novel, not a regular, short fanfic piece. Keep that in mind before you think it's too boring...
Prologue
He trudged on, beginning to doubt the soundness of his own mind. He had been so sure this was the place, or at least the surrounding area. He had been more than sure: he had been certain, for the object in his hands could not lie.
It was far below survivable temperatures; but he did not want to die here, not here in this accursed place, and certainly not now. The wind whipped and spun harder than a mighty dragon's tail, to the point where he thought the gale would strip his flesh straight off the bone. The icy cold penetrated even his heavy clothing; and still the lone traveler continued forth.
"Just a little bit further," he murmured, the air's disturbances drowning out his own voice. He couldn't even hear his frozen footfalls, and the only assurance he still possessed feet was the trembling that emanated through his legs from the crunching snow when he dared take another step towards almost certain doom. The only other sound besides the wind was the thunderous screeching of the long-dead trees being torn apart by the tempest.
"Come, now. Do not fail me," he uttered aloud, almost fanatically. This time he was speaking to the beloved treasure tightly clutched in his grasp, as though his life depended on it. To an inexperienced observer, it would have appeared as a torch flickering in the wind. But this…thing was more alive than a flame. It was a strange object that pulsated with its own incomprehensible power. Its color seemed of a paler red, spherical in shape. Its flashing was the only light in this dark and dreary wasteland, for not even the stars or moons could be seen through the overcast blizzard.
The pulsing of the rare item, like a heart working overtime, was steadily increasing, matching pace with his own exhausted organ. Light once welcomed in the darkness now became too bright to bear. Still, he kept moving as best he could.
He missed a step and stumbled, catching himself on a tree with a free hand; and with a groan he stood up on aching muscles to move forward once again. A few steps more were all he could take before collapsing to his knees, barely able to hold on to his priceless artifact. He knew he was nearing the end of his journey, that he needed just take the last few steps to find what he was looking for. However, his body was beginning to slow…and his mind to drift.
Suddenly, a flash brighter than the sun illumined just for an instant the entire surrounding desolation, momentarily blinding him. With a start, he realized it originated from the cut stone cradled in his nearly-frozen hands. He stared down at it, or at least where he pictured it ought to be, for it was pitch-black now, and his eyes could not find hands in front of his face. It was over; all was lost. With the disappearance of the power from his precious stone came the fall of his hopes and wishes.
His desperate mind spun out of control, panicking—the only part of his body able to labor, frantically searching for a reason to go on, or whether he should simply give up the ghost. His dilemma was answered for him: the lifeless object in his hands thrummed to life once more. Alas, it was working! A steady glow began to rise from the item. However, this time it merely brightened and did not flicker as it had before. Abruptly, the object ripped itself out of his hands, an unseen force pulling it out of his cold, unfeeling digits.
It floated freely and danced off as a marionette some distance away. Exerting all his efforts—his last ounces of stamina—he half-walked and half-tripped to where it had stopped. The fiery eye glittered more fiercely than ever, illuminating his path, beckoning him.
He became as heavy as stone once more, his average-sized body could go no further; he had reached his limit. The lone trekker tumbled to the ground a few inches out of reach of the glimmering ball of life. Almost as if on cue, the ground shifted underneath the driven snow in front of him. At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.
Once the tremors, barely felt by his numbing body, had ceased, he saw a gaping whole several meters in diameter. What added more to his surprise, he thought he recognized the beautiful figure emerging from the opened crevice, clothed in white.
"Cid," she calmly and warmly spoke in a soft, soothing voice as she took hold of the floating stone. The overwhelming voice seemed to echo throughout his entire being. Before fading into nothing, he heard her speak once more. "Welcome home."