Prologue: Dawn

It was a morning at the beginning of spring, and somewhat cold. As a chill wind from the north caressed the castle of Freija, the young woman wrapped her arms about herself, cursing her own fascination with watching the sun rise each morning from her balcony near the top of the castle's primary keep. She would often venture out onto the stone platform on days as cold as or colder than that morning, and she never wore more than a loose silk nightgown that conformed to her body, displaying her every feature in vivid detail. Such was not proper protection from the elements, she thought, and she ran the idea of bringing a blanket with her through her mind for several moments. However, as soon as the glorious orb of the day inched its way above the treetops of the forest to the east, the young woman's attention was given fully to the birth of the morning.

The sun rose as always, but its daily rising never ceased to amaze the young woman. She stared in awe as the burning sphere made its way ever so slowly over the trees of the forest, blanketing the woodlands in a soft light and awakening the animals within. It then proceeded to rise, lighting the plains between the castle and the forest as it did so. Its wondrous radius of light eventually engulfed the castle, virtually bathing it in the glory of the day, then spread out into the sky, causing the oranges and purples of dawn to give way to magnificent azure. The very clouds in the sky seemed to shy away from the sun as if bowing in awe and respect for their emperor, and, though she could not see the moon, the young woman was positive that it was following the example of the clouds. No object in the astral domain could face the glory and might of the sun, the beacon that lit the daylight hours before taking its rest in the night, only to continue its endless journey across the sky on the following day.

Shielding her eyes from the overwhelming light of the sun, the young woman thanked the gods that her balcony did not offer a view of the city to the south of the castle. In her opinion, the sight of civilization served to utterly corrupt the magnificent phenomenon of the sunrise, especially when said civilization consisted of little more than overly grand and extravagant spires extending above small, crowded houses and, in some cases, slums. This often caused the young woman to wonder why her father did nothing for those living in the slums that were buried beneath the glory of the capital city of Freija, despite the fact that he had quite a bit of money to spend on beautifying his city through constant additions. As her mind began to rationalize, however, a sharp series of knocks upon the heavy wooden door to her chambers startled her out of her reverie.

"Lady Elina! Are you ready to go?" cried a decidedly feminine voice.

The young woman cursed. Yet again, she had forgotten to prepare for her morning prayers at the cathedral within the city, and it had already come time to depart. Thus, she rushed into her room, practically tore her nightgown from her pale body, and quickly clad herself in a dress that seemed equal parts comfort and formality. She hastily ran a comb through her golden hair that hung nearly to the small of her back, eventually becoming frustrated and tossing the comb across the carpeted floor, before stumbling to the door and clumsily releasing the lock. Thus, when the door was opened by she who had knocked, the young woman was nearly thrown to the floor.

"Oh! I'm sorry, milady," answered the servant girl, who had likely been sent by the king. She was dressed plainly; however, like all servants, she wore a sash of green and silver. "I didn't mean to-"

"It isn't your fault," Elina said, her voice as bright as the sun, but bearing what could only be described as a hint of sadness. "Do not worry yourself over it. We'd best be going."

"Of course," replied the servant girl with a bow. She proceeded to walk off down the hallway in the direction of the descending stairs, motioning for Elina to follow her. This caused Elina to sigh dismally; such was the routine she was expected to follow every morning. The young noblewoman wished, as she always did, that the day would not turn out as all others had in the past, for she could stand the monotony of the life of royalty no longer.

Little did she know that her wish would finally be fulfilled.

* * * * *

The Pope (Zach Woods) presents...

Final Fantasy Chronicles

Final Fantasy and all original characters and materials (few of which will even show up in this story) are property of Squaresoft. This story is the intellectual property of Zach Woods, a.k.a. The Pope. For an explanation of what I can and will do to you if you claim my work to be your own, read the United States copyright laws.