Deep, even breathing was all that could be heard on Solitary Island. Deep, even, inhale, exhale. It matched the rhythm of the waves that crashed on the cliffs, and only the occasional gulls cry broke the rhythm. Three years before, Cid had died. His last strength had been put into writing a journal, front to back, about the things that had happened since the days of the cataclysm. In case she ever woke up, he included details about the raft. His last motions had been to lay the book on her chest, then laid her hand over it. And then he had thrown himself off of the cliffs that so many others had taken their lives on.
And the three years passed, Celes's magic being the only thing that sustained her life. Until her mind deemed her body ready, she drifted in a dark, haunting, yet somehow comforting place. And when her body finally woke, her amber eyes fluttered open, her hand clutching at the thing beneath it. The book. Weakly, with only an ounce of strength left in her long sleeping body, she sat up, looked at it, and opened it.
"Grandad." She said, surprised to hear herself say it out loud. Tears filled her eyes as she read the book front to back, shaking as she read the final words. Her last goodbye.
I don't want you to wake up to my rotting body, so I've thrown myself off of the northern cliffs like all of the others before me. I hope you wake up to read this, Celes. I love you, my daughter. Live, love, be happy, and if you can, knock Kefka on his rump. You should see how hard I'm laughing right now. Well, I don't know if you can hear me. I'm sitting right next to you. Take the raft I told you about and go find those friends of yours. I'm sure they miss you. And good luck with that boy, oh, what was his name...I don't remember. Find him, Celes. Tell him. For me, okay?Love, Cid (Grandad)
She stood up, stumbling slightly, before going to look at the raft that was supposed to be her salvation. "Why didn't you take it? You could have gotten help, Grandad. You weren't supposed to leave me here alone." Her eyes misted over as she walked outside, the gentle breeze and ocean scent overwhelming her senses. The silence was driving her mad. Nothing but the soft inhale, exhale of the waves. A burst of energy carried her to the edge of the cliffs, where she sat for a moment, wrapping her arms around herself and sobbed for all of the people who had done what she was about to, throw themselves to their deaths. She refused to live on while others had died, and she had no idea how long it had been since Cid had thrown himself off. It could have been decades. She could be 40, and she'd never know. But the fact that she was alive taunted her. Finally, with a silver tear streaking alone down her face, she let herself fall, enjoying the wind zipping through her fingers as she fell. And nothing broke the rhythm as she hit the water.