Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places depicted in this work, and I am taking no financial gain from it - all of the previous belong to Square-Enix.
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Everyone has dreams. Everyone desires something. Everyone wants.
She wanted, desired many things, and her dreams were the kind that were set in stone.
She had never been beautiful, had never won favours on her face alone – she had worked hard for the respect she had – yet she craved more, though most would deem her life perfect. She dreamed of something greater.
It was not until he came that she found a way to realise her dreams – it was handed to her on a silver plate, and she took it line, hook and sinker. From that moment, her hunger for more never ceased, and she could not rest until she had it all within her hands.
Her armies – vacant-eyed blackened puppets – marched silently upon the world and rained electric death on those who opposed her. The world burned and the screams of the dying were her symphony, until at last the music ended and she stood at the end of the world, where there were no places left to conquer.
She had been sacrificed by her white puppet, thrown to the wolves before her time had come, and now there was no hunger left. The dreams had turned to dust.
Her empire was no longer – a dream blighted before it begun – and it ended on the empty shores of a strange continent as the flame of her life began to flicker.
This was but the first act of a grand drama, a play she had never been the lead of, and she saw her end before it begun.
Death was the place of no dreams.