Hey, would you look't that!? A sequel to Magus' quest! Yay! Just what we've
all been waiting for!
Wait a moment... there's something different here...?
Yes, there is. The way I'm telling the story, for a start.
First I tried to write this fused with what Schala had done looking for her little brother plus
Lizard's (you know, the green guy, Ozzie's forefather!) story. It might sound like a good idea, but I
figured those other two stories would make the major one far too confusing. They'll come later.
Maybe. :)
And I want to say thank you so much, Natt, for checking my grammar :)
Well, before you fall asleep, here's the interesting part! And since I'm in a strange mood today, I
hope the beginning of the story will make you very, very confused... he, he, he... all shall be clear.
Eventually.
And I don't own anything except the story and my own characters, the rest is all Squaresoft's!
1 ***The Other Life and the Dragon***
2 ~*~Chapter 1 Another life, three other titles ~*~
I stand on the Zenan bridge, watching the sinking sun paint a blood red sky. To my right screams and other sounds of battle can be heard. I do not care. I will not interfere as long as there are no bigger problems. Which there shouldn't be.
Slowly I look down and unclench my hand to see what I'm holding. A crystal, encircled by thin threads of gold. It seems to shine from within. I have this. It's mine. An amulet. But why do I have it?
Why even wonder ? I know who I am.
"We have a problem!"
I look down at a skeleton. It's holding a spear in its bony grip.
"What kind of problem?" I ask.
"There are three warriors coming past our lines," the skeleton screeches, "you better take care of
them."
I turn to look, finding that many of the creatures I came with have fallen, and there really are three warrior's advancing over the bridge.
"They are children," I say.
"Well, they're not usual children!" the skeleton says, impatient, "take care of them, they're too much for us!"
It staggers away. I put my amulet into a pocket and await the warriors.
Two young women and a just as young man. He has pointy, red brown hair, is dressed in brown and yellow clothes. In his hand is a katana, which glows in the weakening sunlight.
One of the women has a helmet with big glasses on her head, and in her hand is a weapon unfamiliar to me. It seems to shot small spikes at the monsters. The other woman is blond, keeping her hair in a ponytail. Her clothes are silly, puny and colored in a weak, green color.
She holds a crossbow in a tight grip.
They stop as the monsters move away to let me take care of the three.
"Are you the commander of this pack?" the one with the helmet calls.
I shake my head.
"No. But I am the one who will stop your advancing."
"Don't mess with Crono or you'll be sorry!" the blond one grin.
She's secure in herself. I guess that the young man is Crono. He's not saying anything, but yet it feels as if he asks me who I am.
I unsheathe my sword, ready to fight them back.
"You might have heard of me," I tell them, "I am called the Pawn of the Mystics."
The blond one frowns and nudges Crono's arm.
"Be careful," she hisses to both her friends, "it's that weird magician guy that Leene warned us about!"
"Frog too!" the one with the glasses growls.
I say nothing. There's nothing I have to tell them.
But a skeleton behind me gives a screeching laughter.
"You might have fought many of us back," it sneers, "but here you will meet your end, petty warriors! Nobody has ever been able to defeat the Sword of the great Ozzie!"
"Well, we'll be the first then!" the one with the glasses grins.
She fires a needle at me, but I simply bend my head aside. My speed seems to amaze her, and the
few skeletons that are left laugh.
The man named Crono watches me, frowning.
Maybe he's about to say something, but before that another skeleton screeches:
"Just because we're in a good mood today after all, we give you one last chance to give up and get a quick end."
"Oh, cut it out, you freaks," the blond one sighs.
The sound of undead chuckling send claws through the air.
"Silent fellow, isn't he?" the one with the glasses mutters, looking at me with slight disbelief.
I don't move a muscle. Why wouldn't I be quiet, then? Should keep silent, not to irritate...
My thoughts drift away. My mind seems to turn numb somehow, and I don't care. I'm used to it.
That always happens when I'm thinking such silly things.
"Then die here!" a skeleton snorts, "take care of them, Magus!"
I am...
"Uncle Janus!"
Somebody's touching my shoulder. I open my eyes, watching the shadow bending over me . And the
Zenan bridge disappears at once. As easy as that.
"Schaliya?" I mutter.
"Art thee well, uncle?" she asks, with her young voice filled with worries, "Molor came to get me, to
awaken thee..."
Molor...?
I sit up in my low bed, looking down at her in the moonlight. The cold rays of moonlight flowing
through the curtain are reflecting on her blue hair and her small, green eyes. Why is she looking at me like that? Why is she always calling me "uncle Janus"?
I will never understand her, I cannot understand...
She knows nothing about me. She doesn't know Magus. She doesn't know whom, what I am.
And she's not asking. And I don't want her to ever know, because that would be even more painful than if her mother would know everything I have ever done.
Yes, she is my niece; Schala and Cered's daughter. She's only four years old, so innocent and fragile...
I put my hands on her cheeks; my fingers are as long as her small face and her warmth is almost burning my cold skin. But she doesn't seem to feel any coldness. I know that I could snap her neck as easy as I take a breath, and that knowledge makes me feel sick. I know that Magus could have killed her without hesitating if he didn't know who she was. And I was him only a few years ago. How many children like her have I brought death? Children... like her...
Schaliya... how can she call me her uncle? How can she dare to give me such a name, or title? I was never an uncle, I wasn't meant to be that... I was Magus.
I was.
She asks me to be, and she doesn't even know about it.
I cannot understand...
She is Schala's daughter. Reminds me of her mother. And yet, she is a completely different life force.
I always thought that the only one I'd ever care for except myself would be Schala. But Schaliya is... making me so confused. She is a child. What did I ever care about children?
Why does she always call me her uncle...
I am not an uncle. That's for someone else, anyone but me. It's not my world. And Magus inside of me is shouting that it's silly and stupid that I even mind. Maybe he's right. But...
I can't seem to leave this village anymore. Before Schaliya was born, I traveled around the whole planet with Molor, not searching for something, just unable to get rid of my feeling of agitation. Maybe I dared to do so because I knew that Schala would be fine anyway, and in any case I could return immediately if she called for me. But now... I can't leave. I cannot leave Schaliya. I feel no restlessness anymore. I feel...
Needed?
Magus is almost roaring at such thoughts.
Fool! What have you become?!
I cannot leave Schaliya. Why I can't explain, not even to myself. But I cannot leave her.
Maybe I'm worried about her.
Worried? Me?
She's so small and innocent. And she trusts me. How can she do that? Only because she doesn't know...
I never thought that it was possible for me to feel guilty like this. Not even Schala...
Magus watches me in disgust. He cannot understand how I ever could change the slightest and even try to turn my back on him. I try, but I can't. I have all his, no my, sins weighing on my shoulders. And if I ever wished that Schala never would know, it's nothing like what I feel for Schaliya. She mustn't ever get the slightest clue...
She's so innocent. She trusts me. I think that if I took my scythe and charged at her, she wouldn't even raise her hands to cover her face. Because she trusts me. And I cannot understand how she can do that.
"I just had a nightmare," I tell her, putting my hand on her small shoulder, "I'm fine."
"Oh," she says.
She's silent for a short moment. Then she speaks again.
"But when I suffer a nightmare, I always cry or scream because I am so scared."
She can't even speak out R properly. It always sounds like J. And her Ns sound like ng.
"I cannot scream," I calmly tell her, "that's why I don't do it."
"Why then?" she asks, puzzled.
"It's just the way it is," I say, standing up on the floor, "and you should go to sleep, little one."
Magus snorts scornfully as I lift Schaliya from the floor and begin to carry her back to her room. And I cannot ignore him. Why do I have to answer to him?
Because I am you, he says.
I am Janus.
Yes, but he is also lord Magus. You cannot hide it forever. You are the Dark Prince, no matter what you and everyone else says.
I wish that I could kill him. I've killed so many others...
No. I'm done with that. If I ever kill again, it will be to protect others or myself. Schaliya.
She mustn't ever see me kill. Because she believes that I can't do that. And I don't want her to realize that she is wrong. All too wrong.
Little one, resting her head sleepily against my shoulder...
Idiot! Magus growls, she's a danger to you! Look what she's doing to you; turning you into a sentimental fool! Is that what you fought and trained for?
That little Janus who Ozzie found, he never dreamed he would be what he was forced to become. He never wanted to be someone like... me.
But now he is, I am even dreaming about what I could have been.
Pawn of the Mystics.
Another life.
A Magus who broke instead of rising to his feet.
I live that life, day by day, night by night. In my dreams.
And I hope that Frog will bring that Magus death. Then, maybe, the dreams will stop. He doesn't
have a mind of his own, he doesn't even remember what happened before he became a...
Slave.
I almost shudder of disgust. Because that could really have been me, holding the sword that doesn't
fit my hand, obeying the command of a skeleton because I have the orders of... my master.
I hold back a wish to grit my teeth.
Magus. Why didn't you kill Ozzie that day when you threw him from the throne? Why didn't you
cut Slash's throat when you defeated him in battle, holding the scythe? Why didn't you concentrate
Dark Matter into a final killing blow, finishing Flea off?
He doesn't answer at first, because he hates the dreams just as much as I do, so much that he looses
his normally untouchable balance.
To see them humiliated, of course, he finally say, to let them know that their worm became their
master.
Of course.
I open the door to Schaliya's room.
"Now sleep," I tell her and drape the blanket over her small body as she lies down in her bed.
"But what if thou dreamest again?" she asks me.
What can I answer to that? She actually cares for me. Like Schala and Molor do. I can
understand why they care.
But never, never can I understand Schaliya.
"Then Molor will awaken me," I say and straighten up, "don't worry."
"Good night, then," she mumbles, still with a trace of worry in her voice.
"Good night."
As I close the door behind me, Molor is waiting for me. The corridor is so dark that someone with
less dark sight wouldn't see him at all. I don't even need to see him, for that matter. I can always feel
where he is.
'Why her?' I ask him, 'why not you?'
'Better,' he answers me.
We never use many words to communicate. We understand each other anyhow.
'Schala,' I say.
'No. Schaliya.'
'Not know, better. Too young.'
'Suffer.'
I have no answer to that. He can enter my mind, I never forbid him to. I can enter his, too. He
knows about the humiliation and pain I experience.
'Yes,' I finally say.
I probably won't sleep anymore tonight. But I can't help wondering if Crono, Marle and Lucca
could defeat the other Magus at that early rate, when they weren't as strong as they are now.
I hope so.
I want him to die. I have to pity him. And I don't want to live his life every night.
But, on the other hand, who would save Schala, Molor and Cered from Dalton, then?
That Magus would never have been able to help them. It's better that he dies. Maybe Crono and the
women can help them in that time stream, while looking for the boy's mother and cats... I have no
hopes about that Magus.
Let him die.
Frog, do me that favor. You could not kill the Dark Lord. Then kill the Pawn of the Mystics.
I don't want to sleep. I don't want to dream. But I cannot stay awake forever.
In the early morning light a few birds cross the sky, their silly squeaking being the only sound apart
from the whispering of wind in the trees. Molor lies silent by my feet, the light of the sun lazily
reflecting in his black scales. My eyes are resting on the houses that lie across the open area around
the well, but I'm not really looking at them. Only sitting on the bench by the wall of Schala and
Cered's house, resting my back against the wood behind me.
I can't sleep. I don't want to.
From the first moment I close my eyes, I live another life. And there was a time when I used to
think that living with the memory of all the pain was torture enough... yet that Magus isn't exactly
suffering. He doesn't feel anything. He's nothing at all. Nothing. And I am him, every night.
He might not suffer, but I do. I feel the humiliation and rage that he is unable to experience. I have
to live with having masters every time I dream. I have to live with the fact that I'm taking orders from
Ozzie whenever I'm not awake.
I can't even remember when I began to dream, neither what the first dream was about. It feels as if
I have been tortured by the other possibility forever.
There's some muffled noises coming from inside of the house, and then the sound of a door
opening and closing.
"Cered," I say, emotionless.
He comes around the corner, trying to hide a yawn behind his hand.
"Good morning brother, Molor," he mutters.
Brother. He calls me brother. Makes me almost as confused as when Schaliya calls me uncle. Of
course, it has grown from "brother in law", which he called me those first two months he and Schala
were married. Then even his grip of words gave up for laziness.
But the fact is still that he's calling me brother.
"You're up early," I say, still with no real emotions.
"Yes."
He sits down on the bench too. Molor moves his tail aside, otherwise he doesn't show any greater
interest.
It was fine with me to just have my kindred spirit as company, but with all the anger my dreams
invoke I'm actually a bit relieved to get something else on my mind.
"Why are you out so early?" I ask, stretching my legs a little.
I wonder how long I've been sitting here... my feet were beginning to turn a bit numb.
"I hath some troubles sleeping," he simply answers.
"I see."
"And why art thee awake this early?"
"I have also troubles sleeping."
He raises his eyebrows, but doesn't drop a comment.
"I see," is all that he says.
He turns his eyes at the sky, which is still red and purple with the sunrise.
"'Tis a peaceful moment," he says.
"Yes."
It's true... no battles on the Zenan bridge in my wake world...
I clench my teeth.
Molor says nothing. There isn't anything he can say to ease my inner rage.
"Maybe we should train a little some day," Cered says, without any genuine interest.
"Perhaps. At least your magic power."
There haven't been any monsters showing up in a long time. They have finally understood that
they better stay away from a village housing three people who are all great warriors and magicians.
"Is my magic called for?" Cered asks with a small smile.
I almost smile back. At least I ease my grim look a little.
"Maybe I'm just curious about what heights you can reach," I tell him.
"Oh, I understand."
Cered is without doubt the most powerful Fire-magician I have ever encountered. He learnt the
spell known as Flare hardly five minutes after he was granted magical powers, and even though it's
the strongest Fire spell I know he can do it without straining himself at all.
But since then he hasn't learnt anything new except the only thing I was able to teach him,
probably because he hasn't been battling enough. Magic is learnt through studies or battle to invoke
old, inherited instincts, and studies won't suit my brother in law. In fact, there's nothing I can teach
him about Fire and Light; the powers he has in his hands. I can't use Light, and he is beyond anyone in Fire. The only thing I have taught him was the second level spell of Fire magic, simply called Fire2. It's a silly name, come to think of it. But I guess a researcher in Zeal named it and all other second level spells that. Such people have little imagination...
But the thing is that just about everyone who is specialized in a magical element can use one extremely strong spell, which almost no one else can use. I have Dark Matter, Schala has Luminos, Crono has Luminaire.
The fact that Cered can use Flare so easily shows that if he must have his ultimate power still slumbering inside. And if I know him correctly, he will amaze all of us.
I look down at Molor. He hasn't really shown much magic at all. He can spit black flames, and we have our combined spell that I named Dark Lightning. But otherwise... he's still got a few things to bring out.
'Truly, friend,' he mutters to me, with a snake's cold smile.
I send him a similar smile.
"Hey, you three."
All three of us look up at Schala, who stands smiling by the house's corner.
She still insists on wearing her battle clothing. I can't say that I agree to the fullest about it being proper, but I guess she's got the right to decide. And would she listen, anyhow? No, I doubt it. She does what she wants and takes no orders nowadays. So different from the timid and calm sister I used to have back in Zeal. And I'm very proud of her for that change.
"Why are you sitting here?" she says, still smiling, "come on, the breakfast is waiting."
"How come we art all up so early this morning?" Cered says as he stands up, shaking his head.
"That way more day is provided, I suppose," I say without really considering it.
"Wise words, brother. And see here, 'tis my little girl too!"
With a laugh Cered bends down and lifts Schaliya in his arms as she emerges from behind her mother, dressed in her usual, purple dress. She giggles and places her arms around her father's neck.
"Good morning, uncle Janus!" she cheers, nailing her small, bright eyes onto me.
I just can't help smiling when she does that...
"You're spoiling her, carrying her around, dearest," Schala points out, but with nothing but tenderness in her voice.
"The daughter we share, be she not too fair not to hold now and then, sunlight?" Cered smiles.
I silently watch the three of them smiling at each other. I am a part of their family; they are the
closest allies and friends that I'll ever find, apart from Molor. But what Schala and Cered feel for
each other will never be in my reach. And I don't need it either.
Humph. Glenn and the others just had to tell me about how Ayla healed me after Flea's attack in
Guardia castle... but they agreed on never speaking about it in my presence again. Of course, it took a
bit of... convincing. Those who once fought me and then fought with me should still be happy that I
have such respect for Schala and her opinions.
I prefer not to think about that occasion.
'Stop smirking,' I tell Molor.
'Would I?' he answers.
But he is still doing it.
I look at Schaliya again, resting safely on her father's arm. And an unwelcome chain of thought
infiltrates my mind.
I never knew my father. But anyhow, I never needed him. I had Schala. Even after mother died, or
stayed alive without her soul, I still had Schala. She and Adulfus, my cat who she saved with the last
of her strength from the falling Ocean Palace, together with Marle, Frog and myself, as Magus. Those
two were the only ones I had. I lost my mother, and I never knew my father.
On the other hand, no one knew my father.
My father is not Schala's father, because he died five years before I was born.
And at least as far as I know nobody except our mother knew whose child I am. And she never told
anyone. I don't know, and I don't care.
I never had any use for a father, and frankly, he obviously never saw any use of me.
I never knew, I never cared. I never minded. But sometimes I can't help wondering. Yet, I can't
recall anyone in the kingdom of Zeal who it possibly could have been. My guess is that it was
somebody who didn't survive my mother either. Very few good things are left to remember about
queen Zeal, and I'm not sure if the fact that she was a true survivor is something for her favor.
Pha! Magus snorts from his lair inside of me, she is dead. She is long gone. Why do you even think
about her? Don't you have anything better to do?
And what would that be, may I ask?
Doing something about your growing weakness, for instance, he sneers, and you know well from
where that comes. That little girl who you allow to call you silly things...
When he speaks to me about such matters I feel an urge to take out my scythe and end his
existence. Even if that would mean ending my own.
He easily sickens me when it comes to Schaliya.
I would rather bow in front of Lavos than break a hair on her small head.
You are a fool.
Shut up.
'No listen,' Molor says, concerned.
'I wish,' I reply, grimly.
'I know Magus too. He would not harm Schala's daughter.'
That is true...
'Then who is he, who would?' I ask.
'Perhaps one last grain of pure evil. But not Magus.'
He's got a point.
But whatever it is, I will still name it Magus. Because that name represent everything that I have
left behind.
"Come on, Janus," Schala warmly says, unaware of my inner torments, "there's a newborn day
ahead."
"Yes."
The sun is still only rising. And there's a full day in front of me.
To the fullest I value each moment of this life that I live as I am awake. Because I know what
happens every night. I loose my life, my mind, my soul, my pride. Everything. And I can't understand
why.
Perhaps it's the revenge of all evil powers in this world. After all I am a traitor. It's a hard path to
wander. The darkness despises me, and the light fears me. I can use Shadow, the evil magic. But I
don't belong to it anymore. I can also use many other spells. But the power I am dedicated to is not
mine to the fullest anymore. It's an empty feeling. I can cast Dark Matter and other Shadow spells,
but they aren't completely in my hands. Magic can be simply an element to harness power from, but I
lived in Shadow for many years. Now I don't. And I'm not exactly missing it, but something is
wrong. It doesn't accept me in the same way. It's hard to explain...
Like holding a sword when that is the wrong weapon for you.
I clench my teeth, following my sister, brother in law and niece back into the house.
It doesn't really matter now... I haven't needed to use magic in quite some time and there's a whole
day before the next night.
And nowadays I know that there's a morning after every night.
I'm already looking forward to the next dawn...
Wait a moment... there's something different here...?
Yes, there is. The way I'm telling the story, for a start.
First I tried to write this fused with what Schala had done looking for her little brother plus
Lizard's (you know, the green guy, Ozzie's forefather!) story. It might sound like a good idea, but I
figured those other two stories would make the major one far too confusing. They'll come later.
Maybe. :)
And I want to say thank you so much, Natt, for checking my grammar :)
Well, before you fall asleep, here's the interesting part! And since I'm in a strange mood today, I
hope the beginning of the story will make you very, very confused... he, he, he... all shall be clear.
Eventually.
And I don't own anything except the story and my own characters, the rest is all Squaresoft's!
1 ***The Other Life and the Dragon***
2 ~*~Chapter 1 Another life, three other titles ~*~
I stand on the Zenan bridge, watching the sinking sun paint a blood red sky. To my right screams and other sounds of battle can be heard. I do not care. I will not interfere as long as there are no bigger problems. Which there shouldn't be.
Slowly I look down and unclench my hand to see what I'm holding. A crystal, encircled by thin threads of gold. It seems to shine from within. I have this. It's mine. An amulet. But why do I have it?
Why even wonder ? I know who I am.
"We have a problem!"
I look down at a skeleton. It's holding a spear in its bony grip.
"What kind of problem?" I ask.
"There are three warriors coming past our lines," the skeleton screeches, "you better take care of
them."
I turn to look, finding that many of the creatures I came with have fallen, and there really are three warrior's advancing over the bridge.
"They are children," I say.
"Well, they're not usual children!" the skeleton says, impatient, "take care of them, they're too much for us!"
It staggers away. I put my amulet into a pocket and await the warriors.
Two young women and a just as young man. He has pointy, red brown hair, is dressed in brown and yellow clothes. In his hand is a katana, which glows in the weakening sunlight.
One of the women has a helmet with big glasses on her head, and in her hand is a weapon unfamiliar to me. It seems to shot small spikes at the monsters. The other woman is blond, keeping her hair in a ponytail. Her clothes are silly, puny and colored in a weak, green color.
She holds a crossbow in a tight grip.
They stop as the monsters move away to let me take care of the three.
"Are you the commander of this pack?" the one with the helmet calls.
I shake my head.
"No. But I am the one who will stop your advancing."
"Don't mess with Crono or you'll be sorry!" the blond one grin.
She's secure in herself. I guess that the young man is Crono. He's not saying anything, but yet it feels as if he asks me who I am.
I unsheathe my sword, ready to fight them back.
"You might have heard of me," I tell them, "I am called the Pawn of the Mystics."
The blond one frowns and nudges Crono's arm.
"Be careful," she hisses to both her friends, "it's that weird magician guy that Leene warned us about!"
"Frog too!" the one with the glasses growls.
I say nothing. There's nothing I have to tell them.
But a skeleton behind me gives a screeching laughter.
"You might have fought many of us back," it sneers, "but here you will meet your end, petty warriors! Nobody has ever been able to defeat the Sword of the great Ozzie!"
"Well, we'll be the first then!" the one with the glasses grins.
She fires a needle at me, but I simply bend my head aside. My speed seems to amaze her, and the
few skeletons that are left laugh.
The man named Crono watches me, frowning.
Maybe he's about to say something, but before that another skeleton screeches:
"Just because we're in a good mood today after all, we give you one last chance to give up and get a quick end."
"Oh, cut it out, you freaks," the blond one sighs.
The sound of undead chuckling send claws through the air.
"Silent fellow, isn't he?" the one with the glasses mutters, looking at me with slight disbelief.
I don't move a muscle. Why wouldn't I be quiet, then? Should keep silent, not to irritate...
My thoughts drift away. My mind seems to turn numb somehow, and I don't care. I'm used to it.
That always happens when I'm thinking such silly things.
"Then die here!" a skeleton snorts, "take care of them, Magus!"
I am...
"Uncle Janus!"
Somebody's touching my shoulder. I open my eyes, watching the shadow bending over me . And the
Zenan bridge disappears at once. As easy as that.
"Schaliya?" I mutter.
"Art thee well, uncle?" she asks, with her young voice filled with worries, "Molor came to get me, to
awaken thee..."
Molor...?
I sit up in my low bed, looking down at her in the moonlight. The cold rays of moonlight flowing
through the curtain are reflecting on her blue hair and her small, green eyes. Why is she looking at me like that? Why is she always calling me "uncle Janus"?
I will never understand her, I cannot understand...
She knows nothing about me. She doesn't know Magus. She doesn't know whom, what I am.
And she's not asking. And I don't want her to ever know, because that would be even more painful than if her mother would know everything I have ever done.
Yes, she is my niece; Schala and Cered's daughter. She's only four years old, so innocent and fragile...
I put my hands on her cheeks; my fingers are as long as her small face and her warmth is almost burning my cold skin. But she doesn't seem to feel any coldness. I know that I could snap her neck as easy as I take a breath, and that knowledge makes me feel sick. I know that Magus could have killed her without hesitating if he didn't know who she was. And I was him only a few years ago. How many children like her have I brought death? Children... like her...
Schaliya... how can she call me her uncle? How can she dare to give me such a name, or title? I was never an uncle, I wasn't meant to be that... I was Magus.
I was.
She asks me to be, and she doesn't even know about it.
I cannot understand...
She is Schala's daughter. Reminds me of her mother. And yet, she is a completely different life force.
I always thought that the only one I'd ever care for except myself would be Schala. But Schaliya is... making me so confused. She is a child. What did I ever care about children?
Why does she always call me her uncle...
I am not an uncle. That's for someone else, anyone but me. It's not my world. And Magus inside of me is shouting that it's silly and stupid that I even mind. Maybe he's right. But...
I can't seem to leave this village anymore. Before Schaliya was born, I traveled around the whole planet with Molor, not searching for something, just unable to get rid of my feeling of agitation. Maybe I dared to do so because I knew that Schala would be fine anyway, and in any case I could return immediately if she called for me. But now... I can't leave. I cannot leave Schaliya. I feel no restlessness anymore. I feel...
Needed?
Magus is almost roaring at such thoughts.
Fool! What have you become?!
I cannot leave Schaliya. Why I can't explain, not even to myself. But I cannot leave her.
Maybe I'm worried about her.
Worried? Me?
She's so small and innocent. And she trusts me. How can she do that? Only because she doesn't know...
I never thought that it was possible for me to feel guilty like this. Not even Schala...
Magus watches me in disgust. He cannot understand how I ever could change the slightest and even try to turn my back on him. I try, but I can't. I have all his, no my, sins weighing on my shoulders. And if I ever wished that Schala never would know, it's nothing like what I feel for Schaliya. She mustn't ever get the slightest clue...
She's so innocent. She trusts me. I think that if I took my scythe and charged at her, she wouldn't even raise her hands to cover her face. Because she trusts me. And I cannot understand how she can do that.
"I just had a nightmare," I tell her, putting my hand on her small shoulder, "I'm fine."
"Oh," she says.
She's silent for a short moment. Then she speaks again.
"But when I suffer a nightmare, I always cry or scream because I am so scared."
She can't even speak out R properly. It always sounds like J. And her Ns sound like ng.
"I cannot scream," I calmly tell her, "that's why I don't do it."
"Why then?" she asks, puzzled.
"It's just the way it is," I say, standing up on the floor, "and you should go to sleep, little one."
Magus snorts scornfully as I lift Schaliya from the floor and begin to carry her back to her room. And I cannot ignore him. Why do I have to answer to him?
Because I am you, he says.
I am Janus.
Yes, but he is also lord Magus. You cannot hide it forever. You are the Dark Prince, no matter what you and everyone else says.
I wish that I could kill him. I've killed so many others...
No. I'm done with that. If I ever kill again, it will be to protect others or myself. Schaliya.
She mustn't ever see me kill. Because she believes that I can't do that. And I don't want her to realize that she is wrong. All too wrong.
Little one, resting her head sleepily against my shoulder...
Idiot! Magus growls, she's a danger to you! Look what she's doing to you; turning you into a sentimental fool! Is that what you fought and trained for?
That little Janus who Ozzie found, he never dreamed he would be what he was forced to become. He never wanted to be someone like... me.
But now he is, I am even dreaming about what I could have been.
Pawn of the Mystics.
Another life.
A Magus who broke instead of rising to his feet.
I live that life, day by day, night by night. In my dreams.
And I hope that Frog will bring that Magus death. Then, maybe, the dreams will stop. He doesn't
have a mind of his own, he doesn't even remember what happened before he became a...
Slave.
I almost shudder of disgust. Because that could really have been me, holding the sword that doesn't
fit my hand, obeying the command of a skeleton because I have the orders of... my master.
I hold back a wish to grit my teeth.
Magus. Why didn't you kill Ozzie that day when you threw him from the throne? Why didn't you
cut Slash's throat when you defeated him in battle, holding the scythe? Why didn't you concentrate
Dark Matter into a final killing blow, finishing Flea off?
He doesn't answer at first, because he hates the dreams just as much as I do, so much that he looses
his normally untouchable balance.
To see them humiliated, of course, he finally say, to let them know that their worm became their
master.
Of course.
I open the door to Schaliya's room.
"Now sleep," I tell her and drape the blanket over her small body as she lies down in her bed.
"But what if thou dreamest again?" she asks me.
What can I answer to that? She actually cares for me. Like Schala and Molor do. I can
understand why they care.
But never, never can I understand Schaliya.
"Then Molor will awaken me," I say and straighten up, "don't worry."
"Good night, then," she mumbles, still with a trace of worry in her voice.
"Good night."
As I close the door behind me, Molor is waiting for me. The corridor is so dark that someone with
less dark sight wouldn't see him at all. I don't even need to see him, for that matter. I can always feel
where he is.
'Why her?' I ask him, 'why not you?'
'Better,' he answers me.
We never use many words to communicate. We understand each other anyhow.
'Schala,' I say.
'No. Schaliya.'
'Not know, better. Too young.'
'Suffer.'
I have no answer to that. He can enter my mind, I never forbid him to. I can enter his, too. He
knows about the humiliation and pain I experience.
'Yes,' I finally say.
I probably won't sleep anymore tonight. But I can't help wondering if Crono, Marle and Lucca
could defeat the other Magus at that early rate, when they weren't as strong as they are now.
I hope so.
I want him to die. I have to pity him. And I don't want to live his life every night.
But, on the other hand, who would save Schala, Molor and Cered from Dalton, then?
That Magus would never have been able to help them. It's better that he dies. Maybe Crono and the
women can help them in that time stream, while looking for the boy's mother and cats... I have no
hopes about that Magus.
Let him die.
Frog, do me that favor. You could not kill the Dark Lord. Then kill the Pawn of the Mystics.
I don't want to sleep. I don't want to dream. But I cannot stay awake forever.
In the early morning light a few birds cross the sky, their silly squeaking being the only sound apart
from the whispering of wind in the trees. Molor lies silent by my feet, the light of the sun lazily
reflecting in his black scales. My eyes are resting on the houses that lie across the open area around
the well, but I'm not really looking at them. Only sitting on the bench by the wall of Schala and
Cered's house, resting my back against the wood behind me.
I can't sleep. I don't want to.
From the first moment I close my eyes, I live another life. And there was a time when I used to
think that living with the memory of all the pain was torture enough... yet that Magus isn't exactly
suffering. He doesn't feel anything. He's nothing at all. Nothing. And I am him, every night.
He might not suffer, but I do. I feel the humiliation and rage that he is unable to experience. I have
to live with having masters every time I dream. I have to live with the fact that I'm taking orders from
Ozzie whenever I'm not awake.
I can't even remember when I began to dream, neither what the first dream was about. It feels as if
I have been tortured by the other possibility forever.
There's some muffled noises coming from inside of the house, and then the sound of a door
opening and closing.
"Cered," I say, emotionless.
He comes around the corner, trying to hide a yawn behind his hand.
"Good morning brother, Molor," he mutters.
Brother. He calls me brother. Makes me almost as confused as when Schaliya calls me uncle. Of
course, it has grown from "brother in law", which he called me those first two months he and Schala
were married. Then even his grip of words gave up for laziness.
But the fact is still that he's calling me brother.
"You're up early," I say, still with no real emotions.
"Yes."
He sits down on the bench too. Molor moves his tail aside, otherwise he doesn't show any greater
interest.
It was fine with me to just have my kindred spirit as company, but with all the anger my dreams
invoke I'm actually a bit relieved to get something else on my mind.
"Why are you out so early?" I ask, stretching my legs a little.
I wonder how long I've been sitting here... my feet were beginning to turn a bit numb.
"I hath some troubles sleeping," he simply answers.
"I see."
"And why art thee awake this early?"
"I have also troubles sleeping."
He raises his eyebrows, but doesn't drop a comment.
"I see," is all that he says.
He turns his eyes at the sky, which is still red and purple with the sunrise.
"'Tis a peaceful moment," he says.
"Yes."
It's true... no battles on the Zenan bridge in my wake world...
I clench my teeth.
Molor says nothing. There isn't anything he can say to ease my inner rage.
"Maybe we should train a little some day," Cered says, without any genuine interest.
"Perhaps. At least your magic power."
There haven't been any monsters showing up in a long time. They have finally understood that
they better stay away from a village housing three people who are all great warriors and magicians.
"Is my magic called for?" Cered asks with a small smile.
I almost smile back. At least I ease my grim look a little.
"Maybe I'm just curious about what heights you can reach," I tell him.
"Oh, I understand."
Cered is without doubt the most powerful Fire-magician I have ever encountered. He learnt the
spell known as Flare hardly five minutes after he was granted magical powers, and even though it's
the strongest Fire spell I know he can do it without straining himself at all.
But since then he hasn't learnt anything new except the only thing I was able to teach him,
probably because he hasn't been battling enough. Magic is learnt through studies or battle to invoke
old, inherited instincts, and studies won't suit my brother in law. In fact, there's nothing I can teach
him about Fire and Light; the powers he has in his hands. I can't use Light, and he is beyond anyone in Fire. The only thing I have taught him was the second level spell of Fire magic, simply called Fire2. It's a silly name, come to think of it. But I guess a researcher in Zeal named it and all other second level spells that. Such people have little imagination...
But the thing is that just about everyone who is specialized in a magical element can use one extremely strong spell, which almost no one else can use. I have Dark Matter, Schala has Luminos, Crono has Luminaire.
The fact that Cered can use Flare so easily shows that if he must have his ultimate power still slumbering inside. And if I know him correctly, he will amaze all of us.
I look down at Molor. He hasn't really shown much magic at all. He can spit black flames, and we have our combined spell that I named Dark Lightning. But otherwise... he's still got a few things to bring out.
'Truly, friend,' he mutters to me, with a snake's cold smile.
I send him a similar smile.
"Hey, you three."
All three of us look up at Schala, who stands smiling by the house's corner.
She still insists on wearing her battle clothing. I can't say that I agree to the fullest about it being proper, but I guess she's got the right to decide. And would she listen, anyhow? No, I doubt it. She does what she wants and takes no orders nowadays. So different from the timid and calm sister I used to have back in Zeal. And I'm very proud of her for that change.
"Why are you sitting here?" she says, still smiling, "come on, the breakfast is waiting."
"How come we art all up so early this morning?" Cered says as he stands up, shaking his head.
"That way more day is provided, I suppose," I say without really considering it.
"Wise words, brother. And see here, 'tis my little girl too!"
With a laugh Cered bends down and lifts Schaliya in his arms as she emerges from behind her mother, dressed in her usual, purple dress. She giggles and places her arms around her father's neck.
"Good morning, uncle Janus!" she cheers, nailing her small, bright eyes onto me.
I just can't help smiling when she does that...
"You're spoiling her, carrying her around, dearest," Schala points out, but with nothing but tenderness in her voice.
"The daughter we share, be she not too fair not to hold now and then, sunlight?" Cered smiles.
I silently watch the three of them smiling at each other. I am a part of their family; they are the
closest allies and friends that I'll ever find, apart from Molor. But what Schala and Cered feel for
each other will never be in my reach. And I don't need it either.
Humph. Glenn and the others just had to tell me about how Ayla healed me after Flea's attack in
Guardia castle... but they agreed on never speaking about it in my presence again. Of course, it took a
bit of... convincing. Those who once fought me and then fought with me should still be happy that I
have such respect for Schala and her opinions.
I prefer not to think about that occasion.
'Stop smirking,' I tell Molor.
'Would I?' he answers.
But he is still doing it.
I look at Schaliya again, resting safely on her father's arm. And an unwelcome chain of thought
infiltrates my mind.
I never knew my father. But anyhow, I never needed him. I had Schala. Even after mother died, or
stayed alive without her soul, I still had Schala. She and Adulfus, my cat who she saved with the last
of her strength from the falling Ocean Palace, together with Marle, Frog and myself, as Magus. Those
two were the only ones I had. I lost my mother, and I never knew my father.
On the other hand, no one knew my father.
My father is not Schala's father, because he died five years before I was born.
And at least as far as I know nobody except our mother knew whose child I am. And she never told
anyone. I don't know, and I don't care.
I never had any use for a father, and frankly, he obviously never saw any use of me.
I never knew, I never cared. I never minded. But sometimes I can't help wondering. Yet, I can't
recall anyone in the kingdom of Zeal who it possibly could have been. My guess is that it was
somebody who didn't survive my mother either. Very few good things are left to remember about
queen Zeal, and I'm not sure if the fact that she was a true survivor is something for her favor.
Pha! Magus snorts from his lair inside of me, she is dead. She is long gone. Why do you even think
about her? Don't you have anything better to do?
And what would that be, may I ask?
Doing something about your growing weakness, for instance, he sneers, and you know well from
where that comes. That little girl who you allow to call you silly things...
When he speaks to me about such matters I feel an urge to take out my scythe and end his
existence. Even if that would mean ending my own.
He easily sickens me when it comes to Schaliya.
I would rather bow in front of Lavos than break a hair on her small head.
You are a fool.
Shut up.
'No listen,' Molor says, concerned.
'I wish,' I reply, grimly.
'I know Magus too. He would not harm Schala's daughter.'
That is true...
'Then who is he, who would?' I ask.
'Perhaps one last grain of pure evil. But not Magus.'
He's got a point.
But whatever it is, I will still name it Magus. Because that name represent everything that I have
left behind.
"Come on, Janus," Schala warmly says, unaware of my inner torments, "there's a newborn day
ahead."
"Yes."
The sun is still only rising. And there's a full day in front of me.
To the fullest I value each moment of this life that I live as I am awake. Because I know what
happens every night. I loose my life, my mind, my soul, my pride. Everything. And I can't understand
why.
Perhaps it's the revenge of all evil powers in this world. After all I am a traitor. It's a hard path to
wander. The darkness despises me, and the light fears me. I can use Shadow, the evil magic. But I
don't belong to it anymore. I can also use many other spells. But the power I am dedicated to is not
mine to the fullest anymore. It's an empty feeling. I can cast Dark Matter and other Shadow spells,
but they aren't completely in my hands. Magic can be simply an element to harness power from, but I
lived in Shadow for many years. Now I don't. And I'm not exactly missing it, but something is
wrong. It doesn't accept me in the same way. It's hard to explain...
Like holding a sword when that is the wrong weapon for you.
I clench my teeth, following my sister, brother in law and niece back into the house.
It doesn't really matter now... I haven't needed to use magic in quite some time and there's a whole
day before the next night.
And nowadays I know that there's a morning after every night.
I'm already looking forward to the next dawn...