This is actually the first story in my Observers serires, thought it's so far the second i've written. I'm also trying a new perspective, first person as Magus, and I hope it comes out well. Enjoy and leave reviews if you wish to, they are always appreciated :)
Chapter 1: Meetings
Lucca once told me that killing Lavos wouldn't bring back Schala. I never expected it would, that sentiment is for the weak-minded and self-delusional. I wanted to kill Lavos because I hated it; I abhorred and detested it with all the might and will available to me. When that was not enough I decided to make the hate stronger, to fuel myself with the hatred I felt for it, until there would be a time when my hatred, my strength, was great enough to defeat it. For this I raised an army, slaughtered thousands, and enslaved an equal or greater amount; for this I became Magus. My hate would sustain, would grow, until Lavos was no more.
When it was all said and done, when the fatal blow was dealt to the disgusting creature that lurked behind the menacing façade of spikes and enormity, my hatred was still there. Having been my only motivation, my only point of living, for years beyond recollection, my hatred still burned brightly within me. I still hated Lavos, still felt the need to store my strength so that my hate might eclipse the strength it once possessed, even though I saw with my own two eyes the last ebbs of life leave the mutated and distorted form. You can only hate the dead for so long though.
I thought that in time the hate might pass, that it would fade into the background where all my emotions have fled and I would be beyond its' grasp. As I looked upon the youthful faces of those who had traveled with me this far, not convinced enough to call them friends, I saw that each still had a reason to continue on. Frog still clung to his knighthood, Crono lived for his friends, Marle would eventually inhabit the crown, Lucca lived to make machines for the betterment of those around her, Ayla …I think she lived to simply eat, and Robo lived to serve his creators. I looked at their reasons and, staring at the flickering blue warp gate in front of me, found that I had nothing left to continue for.
My empire, though vast it had been, was nothing I wanted involvement with, Zeal was beneath the Ocean, Lavos was dead, and the Black Omen was stricken from the annals of time. What then was my purpose to continue breathing? Was it simply to continue hating, to burn the bright flame of hatred until at long last it consumed me as it had so many others? I saw no hope for the future. Crono had once told me that in the alternate timeline, I had died that night in my castle when I summoned Lavos. I was lucky to be alive, was what he said through veiled words, but I saw it to mean I was supposed to be dead. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, I was as dead as the dead civilization that spawned me.
Then Lucca, always one trying to pry into my affairs, asked if I was going to go look for her, for Schala. I had remained silent at that time because I didn't know that answer myself. What point was there in looking for something that wasn't going to be found? If I hadn't been convinced of her death before, I certainly was now. Beneath the waves, lying with the rest of the Kingdom of Zeal, was the body of my sister somewhere. Instead of saying a goodbye, or anything at all, I left their lives the same way as I had joined them; through a Time gate.
For months I journeyed the Ice Age, lost, and wandered with no clear direction in anything. I traversed the world, perhaps in an attempt to find a purpose, but the world was as cold and cruel as myself. The hatred was still burning brightly, and soon I suspected, it would devour me if it did not find a living target. There was nothing here to hate though, I suppose that was why I had chosen the particular era when Lucca had asked, and instead it leaked out through my actions as I wandered. I leveled mountains, played target practice with glaciers, and killed off entire species because their sight annoyed me; the scourge reborn.
I eventually explored the underwater remains of the Ocean Palace and the Black Omen. I recovered lost tomes and books of magic, weapons and trinkets of unbelievable power, and knowledge that, as far as the rest of the world was considered, was lost forever. Sometime during my recovery of Zeal artifacts, as I mused that it was amazing all these things survived, I decided to give my sister the proper burial. For many more months on end I searched the ruins, calmly at first, then, eventually, a madness that drove all other thoughts away propelled me in my work. It was a purpose, a small one, but something that only I could do.
I never found her body though, never found any magical residue that even hinted her ashes had once rested here. I found the body of my mother, the Queen, but not my sister. Then, the long dead hope that I'd thought beyond recovery, was lit yet again. That there was a hope in saving my sister, that, somewhere, she was waiting for rescue. Maybe Lavos had teleported her to a different time period as well, or maybe somewhere in this one, it didn't matter. I turned my purpose in burying her to saving her, and I madly applied myself to this as well.
The hatred though, was not satisfied. Someone had to be blamed for her death, her disappearance, someone else besides Lavos, someone else like me. It had been my fault, twice, that my Zeal was destroyed. Twice, not many people can say that, and thinking about it made me hate my own weakness even more. How sad and pathetic I must be if I couldn't save my sister, even when given a second chance? Not many people get second chances at anything, yet I had and failed. I was worthless; my life was worthless, except to complete this one last task.
If I could save her, then at least I could die knowing that my hatred was wrong; that I hadn't failed her.
-----/
The faint sound of the wind, rushing along at an amazing speed, was the first sign that I was regaining consciousness, and the sound grew louder and louder as I slipped further from state of sleep. Soon the biting cold began to nip at my exposed face and arms, prompting me to open my eyes and perhaps see what was assaulting me so. As I blinked the last vestiges of confusion away, I again found myself exactly where I wish I wasn't. Though I remember none of the dreams I've had, and as such have doubted my ability to still dream, I must assume that it is a more comforting place than the Ice Age.
Wind whips frantically about me, blowing my tattered cape and unkempt hair in all directions, and I can barely here the crunch of snow as my boot makes another imprint into the hard white stuff. I fight against the wind, against the cold, and against myself to continue to the next stepping stone of my journey. In these moments it's as if sleep has never come to me, as if I closed my eyes for merely a second and then started up where I left off, because in truth sleep is more of a burden than boon. It consumes the precious hours and minutes that I could use to search elsewhere for my sister, for who knows how long she might still live? Or how long I might still breathe for that matter,
In truth I sleep only every few days, when my worn body forces me to rest, and I fall unconscious mid-stride and wake up covered in snow. Every time I hope that maybe I won't wake up, for surely my pace is of one who wants himself killed, but every time I am disappointed when I rise from the snow banks and continue on. Mayhaps fate watches over me in an amused manner, laughing as I madly search, or maybe my magic keeps me alive without my promptings. The answer matters little to me and, quickly, my thoughts snap back to my destination. To a large cave that, however unlikely, might hold my missing sister.
It sits next to the human settlement that somehow manages to survive in this cold hell. Once in every so often I am tempted to destroy them, completely and utterly changing history so that humans never come to power. Something stays my hand though, perhaps thoughts of those who I'd traveled with, or perhaps the small amount of mercy I still posses manages to veer me from that course. In any case I simply give a tired sigh in the direction of their camp as I skirt around the border of it so as not to be seen. I believe they think me a boogey man of sorts, mysteriously appearing cloaked in shadows and staring at them from beyond a veil of wind-whipped snow, and it almost amuses me the cry of alarm they make whenever I become visible to them. Now, however, I do not wish to provoke any such alarm, it would be a shame if I had to kill them after all.
The cave is a short distance away, large and imposing, and previously wholly ignored by me. I have however, in my madness perhaps, given great thought to where Schala might have willingly gone. Surely she would have wished to protect the fledging humans, choosing to remain close by but out of sight, and I have no better place to search than the caves. The entrance sits facing away from the earthbound settlement, looking like a small hill if approached from the rear, but the ground quickly drops down and a large maw opens up in the earth to form the portal. It looms above me even now as I stand outside of it, no sound comes from the large opening, and so I move onward.
Inside the wind stops, the chill feels slightly less biting, and darkness engulfs everything in my vision that rests just a few feet in. I call on reality to shape around my wishes and soon enough a ball of floating light appears slightly above my outstretched hand and illuminates the long, wide, winding passage that snakes deeper beneath the ground. Bones litter the floor I notice, and a multitude of large foot-prints follow the same path I am currently on. Perhaps they are old I say to myself, perhaps this was before Schala came to these caves. However as I reach the end, where two large Megasaurs sleep, I know I am wrong.
They are perhaps the last of their kind, their gaunt frame says their last meal was perhaps weeks ago and their shallow, and labored, breathing tells me that their end lies not far ahead. Do they know of their destiny to be killed, do they know the futility of their efforts? Why do they continue to persist, to try and continue living in a world that clearly does not want them anymore? Perhaps the same reasons drive them on as well, out of hatred for fate and destiny they strive to live and prove it wrong. Destiny, however, is immutable.
I take my will to reality again, like the blacksmith striking heated steel, and draw them into the void. Black tendrils snake out from my hands and engulf the large creatures, seeming to cover them in an inky sheet, and slowly they begin to fade into nothingness. One of their tails twitches slightly, as if trying to awaken, but ultimately they are pulled in without struggle. I release the tendrils and they fall limp to the cold ground, disappearing within seconds of me releasing the magic that fueled them. It was better this way, the void claims all in the end, why struggle.
I didn't kill them for mercy but rather to quench the anger that burned in my heart; their deaths did little to change the fact that the object of my obsession was naught to be found. Still angry, still hating, I clench my teeth together and stride back outside in a fury of magic and heat; another dead end, another wasted search. The wind tries to whip around me when I am back outside but my hate pushes it aside easily enough and carves a path of disappointment and anger in the snow around me. Fate has played me for the fool again, easily manipulating my designs and sending me in a wild chase that has no hope of victory.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" I scream into the air and, for a few moments, my power is enough to combat the elements and push the ever falling snow outwards.
"WHERE IS SHE!" I continue, my hatred fueling my magic as I continue to scream to the heavens. They know, they always knew, but they never told. Fate had always watched me, had even watched those that I'd journeyed with, and had used us as pawns in a greater war. Just like pawns we were cast aside once our job was done, Fate letting us go our separate ways with no compensation for the deeds we'd done. I also hated Fate, perhaps more than I hated myself, and one day I would reach out and take my answer forcefully from it.
No answers where forth coming from those above today, just a renewed gust of wind that pushed back the magical heat I had created and cooled the smoldering anger inside me. "Whatever" I mumbled to myself, I didn't need their help. I would eventually find what I was seeking.
With no ideas on where to check next, I decided to go back to the small fortress I'd created for myself. It was bound with enchantments and a solid fortification in case, by some off chance, I came under attack; paranoia had kept me alive this long and I'd found no need to abandon it yet. There I stored the relics recovered from the wreckage of Zeal; books, scrolls, weapons, and armor all recovered from the pressurized ocean that had guarded them. It was my sanctuary, a place in all the whirling, cold, chaos that stood constant and unchanging. Strangely I also hated it, the cold comfort that it offered me, and only when all other options were exhausted, like now, would I return there.
I grasped the thin strands of logic and reality that held the world together, and used my magic to teleport me from my current position to my throne room in my icy construct. At the time of its' construction I thought it rather appropriate to make it of solid ice; walls, floor, chairs, tables, shelves, cups, dishes, towers, doors, and chambers of pure solid ice. Now though I regarded it as a waste of energy, I could have easily summoned the rocks out of the earth for a structure with more endurance, but the cold weather outside sustained the waters solid state and destroying it would be a waste of more energy.
I appeared, as usual, in my icy throne that sat high on a raised platform overlooking the horde of treasure I'd manage to salvage. I never felt the need to venture to the other rooms of my castle, the countless bedrooms, kitchens, and cellars, partially because I didn't want to. Why I'd even created such rooms is a mystery to myself, perhaps one day I had illusions of having friends and family here. Instead I chose to remain in my treasure-laden throne room where I could continue my search for Schala, study the maps that the scholars of Zeal had made of the surface, and look for secrets of the earth that now only the books know. As I passed my gaze around the room I pointed to a tome lying face down atop a pile of battered armor; the book obeyed my command and jumped instantly to my hand, the pages flipping rapidly to turn to the exact page I'd been last reading.
It was a small map of the land around where the earthbounds now had their encampment, small circles drawn wherever a cave had been found, and all the caves were crossed out except my most recent travel. Xing off the cave with my fingers, a red X appearing shortly after the action, I threw the book violently against the wall. This was getting me nowhere! How many tomes lay with X's dotting their pages? For the thousandth time I again felt despair and hopelessness.
I perhaps would have continued this vicious cycle on and on until the years consumed my body and my hate tore at my mind. Perhaps one day I would have found Schala, perhaps not. I'll never know the answer to that though, to what could have been, but I do know how Belthasar came and interposed himself in my life. Yes, the old guru who'd been banished to the future and, after so many long years under the reign of Lavos, was senile but still brilliant. Like me, he too had been given a new chance at life and was rescued from the Lavos time line that had killed him. Mores the pity for it too, Belthasar had always been too far in the favor of my mother and, as far as I was concerned, was responsible for the events almost as much as she was.
Like most men of knowledge he tried for a simple, yet result producing approach, and knocked on my door instead of appearing in a cloud of dramatics. Lavos knows why I built that door, I didn't expect any visitors, ever, but I assume old prejudices die hard; a house has to have a door after all. The two sharp raps at my door echoed through the house, getting even my attention as the small sound echoed off empty walls and managed to make its' way to my throne room. Immediately I was there, next to my door, and promising swift death to the one that was foolish enough to come looking for it. On the other side of the ice I instead found the Guru of time himself.
I was half tempted to simply summon the void and have it swallow him up, I even might have if he were wearing his Zeal uniform, but it seemed he'd traded in the fancy silks and magically crafted items for a plain white robe. His grey beard, something that was always larger than the rest of his head, had managed to grow even further out and reached down to his knees, yet there was a clear lack of hair on his head. Even after all these years though I could still sense the unique magical aura that said this was indeed Belthasar and not my mind gone awry with haunting images. As always he carried a walking cane, though I'd never seen him use it, and his skin was just as wrinkled as when I was a youth and he uncountable years above me.
"You!" I spat out, I didn't want to see him or anything else that had helped in the construction of the Ocean Palace. He, however, seemed unaffected by my wrathful glaring or venomous accusations.
"Janus, how good to see you once again!" His voice was jubilated, as if he were actually happy to see me, and his smile stretched from ear to ear. Did he think me a fool to fall for such obvious lies?
"What do you want?" I asked still angry but vaguely intrigued by the fact that he was here and at my doorsteps.
"Can't an old man come by and chat with his friend without accusations flying everywhere?" Like the smile, his hurtful expression seemed genuine but that just meant he was a very talented liar.
"I'm not your friend, nor you mine. Leave or speak your piece." I ordered tersely, I had no wanting to bicker with the old fool. I had other places to look, other books to scour.
"That hurts Janus, it really does. I'll forgive you this time though; you look like you've had a harsh time and are probably a bit grumpy. You look as pale as death itself and as skinny as a pole, have you eaten anything recently? Or slept for that matter, your eyes are as red as the red crystals in the Mammon Machine!" His gaze roomed up and down me like he was looking for some weakness to exploit, a crack in my armor, but I was sure that no such crack existed.
"No, and I'm not hungry or tired. Go away, I've got other things to do aside from entertaining your curiosities about my state of being." I closed the door, and I thought the small chapter, on Belthasar in my life. He was a part of a past I longed to forget, not to resurrect. Zeal, though grand and bountiful it may have been, was a mistake that had rightfully been erased. Their arrogance had damned them to the same fate of those they cruelly enslaved. If anything, I wish that it could have been my hand to end its' rule and not the twisted logic of Lavos.
Fate had been equally cruel to both of us; both of us were, by all rights, already dead and both of us were set adrift in totally different time lines. I'd always supposed that with the death of Lavos I'd eventually see some of the changes and it seemed Belthasar was one such change. The fact that he was still alive, and still sane, was testament to that. For a breath I wondered how he'd journeyed here, and it took another breath for me to angrily turn back around and force the door open with a mighty blast of magic.
The fool was still outside, not at all affected by the foul weather, and his smile widen once I was visible again. How I wanted to wipe that stupid smile off of his face! That would have to wait though.
"What do you want?" I spat out through clenched teeth. My ability to keep my composure together had diminished with the years of solitude; here I had no one to hide my feelings from except myself. There were no generals to intimidate, no minions to inspire, and no human contact to worry about.
"Patience was something you never did have." He stated the painfully obvious and it seemed my facial expression must have said as much for he got to the point. "Your right, I've come with a request. I need your help Janus and I think it will benefit both of our causes." Hopefully somewhere in all his talk was mention of how he managed to come to this frozen part of time. "Go on."
"I know about how Lavos was defeated, about how you and a group of young people from various eras managed to kill it and thus prevented a huge disaster. Imagine my surprise when I first invented time travel, and used it, to find that someone else was already traveling back and forth in time, with my old invention none-the-less. As much as we, the future, appreciate the defeat of Lavos we can't have people going back and forth in time without checks. I've constructed a time station in a place outside of space and time, a place where changes to the time stream don't have the power to reach." He was babbling again, like he always did, and, like he had noted, I didn't have much patience.
"Would you get to the point already?"
"Yes, yes, your right. Janus, I'd like you to work for me and help stop the various factions that have gained control of time travel technology from altering the past." That was all well and nice, but it had nothing to do with me.
"So?"
"I know you search for your sister and you think she's lost somewhere out here in the vast ice fields but what if she's in another time period? While you're not doing missions you'll have free reign to search wherever you want, provided your search does not alter the timeline." That struck a cord, a very uncomfortable cord because it meant the old man was right, and often times I'd wondered what I'd do if indeed Schala wasn't in this time period. How would I find her then?
"Show me" I had to have proof before abandoning my quest and relocating my base of operations elsewhere. It's not as though I had any attachment to my ice castle but I didn't want to waste time when I could be using to for a more productive end. Those words seemed to lighten his face up as his smile, somehow, grew larger still and he gave a hearty laugh.
"Excellent Janus, excellent, we just have one more stop before heading to the Chronopolis and trust me when I say you'll be amazed" Belthasar pulled a small device from his pouch, the wand like object resembled Lucca's gate key, yet, had a look that spoke of higher technology.
"Janus is dead Belthasar, my name is Magus." I was growing tired of him using my old name when I no longer wanted it. Janus died with Zeal.
"Well why didn't you say so earlier?" He inquired as if actually surprised.
"Because I was originally going to ignore you until you went away, since it seems we will be in eachothers' company awhile I find it prudent to correct your ignorance."
"Very well 'Magus', let's be off" The emphases he put with my name made me want to ignite him and watch him burn until he was nothing more than a pile of ashes, but, as much as I hated admitting it, I needed him. After insulting my name he pointed his version of the gate key in front of us and a blue time portal appeared, bringing back memories of my adventuring days, before he stepped in. I didn't tell him, didn't want to admit it to myself, but the familiar howling in the wormhole was comforting in a welcome-home kind of way. It'd been a very long time since I'd left the frozen wastelands and a part of me was excited. I hated that part, the part of me that still had the ability to feel emotions, and I pushed it back down. I didn't need it distracting me from my goals. Our destination though, did interest me in the slightest.
It was the interest that I also sought to push down; the interest that I feared could derail me from my goal. So I pushed it to the back of my mind and instead considered the destination an irrelevant detail, something that only mattered to those of a lesser nature. What could have been an exciting time, or perhaps happy time, in my life became nothing more than a detail to be stored away for a later date. Nothing mattered except my quest to find, and save, Schala; not Belthasar, not this time portal, and certainly not his Chronopolis.
By the time my thoughts had run their course I'd already stepped through the portal and emerged, almost instantly it seemed, on the other side. There was a fresh quality to the air that had been missing from the desolate icy wastelands, a scent that signaled plants, trees, and animals. The only visible vegetation here though was the neatly trimmed grass patch that surrounded the large two story house. The sound of small children, playing I think, emanated from somewhere nearby but out of my vision, perhaps inside the large structure or, perhaps, behind it. The sun, something I'd almost forgotten existed, shined brightly upon the land and caused me to shade my vision with an upraised hand.
While nothing else was noteworthy in my immediate vicinity, the house did bear a striking resemblance to a certain house belonging to a certain inventor I'd once known. It was larger though, several rooms added on both floors, but the large gizmos and machines attached to the outside of the walls gave me the answer before I'd even consciously sought it; Lucca's place. It seemed she'd fared well enough after I'd left, no doubt a very successful inventor, and for a moment, and not a second longer, I almost envied the life she must have with friends and family. It was clear now where the laughter of the children originated from; she had a family, a house, and a purpose.
"Recognize anything Magus?" asked the smug guru next to me, we both already knew the answer and I responded to his queries with silence.
"She won't be expecting us, but then again she never is!" he exclaimed, though what he meant I wasn't quite sure. Instead of having the old man continue his further prattling I decided to figure out what was needed, get it done, and get out of here.
"What now?"
He looked at me as if I'd asked the dumbest question in the world, as if it should be plain as day what we were suppose to do. I responded, again, with silence.
"Why we knock on her door of course!" was the obvious reply I received. Without further question on my part the old man walked steadily towards her door, not at all seeming out of place considering he'd just warped in from another time period. Clearly he'd been here before, and many times at that. My only question was why? Did he seek to employ my past adventuring partners in his endeavour as well?
As he knocked on the heavy wooden door, quieting the laughter and shouting inside, I was tempted to slink away into the shadows and let him conduct his business with Lucca alone. I had neither wanting nor reason to converse with the mad scientist again, nor did she have any reason to see an old enemy like myself. As much as I wanted to simply walk off in a random direction until I was out of sight, I didn't. If I couldn't face Lucca again after all these years, then I'd become weaker; that was something I couldn't allow. I'd dared to face Lavos one-on-one and I could do the same with a simple inventor.
By the time the door opened, admitting the peering gaze of a brown haired youth, I'd managed to float my way next to the smiling old fool as he explained his request to the child. I assume he'd asked for Lucca by name since the child scampered off shortly after and, a few heart-beats later, the aforementioned scientist appeared in the doorway. In her arms was another small child, barely old enough to posses the small spot of blonde hair dotting its' head, and a heard of other children gathered behind her. She looked as well as when I'd last seen her, though she'd grown her hair out and let it cascade down her neck in an untamed wave. Otherwise she appeared in remarkable health for a woman that, I assume, had birthed so many children. Quickly I stepped off to the side, letting the rest of the partially opened door obscure me from Lucca. I managed this before she turned back around from handing the baby off to one of the older children.
"Belthasar, it's nice to see you again. What brings you around?" Lucca asked with a forced smile, she really didn't want to see him and I could hear it in her voice. It was the same kind of forced voice I'd heard my sister use when with mother. It really asked why he wouldn't leave her alone, why he was here again when she didn't want to see him; despite the frequency of his visits Belthasar seemed all but welcomed here. It didn't seem to bother the old man though, whether he knew the truth or not, and he smiled dumbly and gestured wildly about as he spoke.
"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. I brought an old friend to see you!" that was when the codger opened the door wider, disposing of my last veil. The second she saw me, the second the children say me, I heard a collective gasp, as if someone had managed to suck all the air out of the area. Even without knowing who my identity the children could sense the power that lurked beneath, or so I arrogantly assumed, while Lucca had the general look in her eyes of someone seeing a ghost. She recovered quickly enough, her gaze settling on me not so long as to be what some would call an awkward pause, and, it seemed, she smiled genuinely.
"Magus" see smiled "What an odd pleasure!"
Why I was considered an odd pleasure, or any kind of pleasure at all, was a mystery to me, but I had a feeling I'd soon find out.