Chapter 1: When Innocence is Stolen

Night had soon fallen over the world. Its calm atmosphere could make some feel at ease, but others on edge. The night hid within its veil of secrecy the darkest of demons, but at the same time, the most innocent wishes. A mixture of both peace and madness, depending on how it is viewed.

Alma awoke with a start. Fumbling around for a nearby candle, her fingers finally wrapped around the base of the holder. After the strike of a match, the room was illuminated by the candle's glow. Ramza, while normally sound asleep in his bed at this hour, was nowhere to be found.

"Brother...?" Alma called out to the empty room. The eerie silence that responded to her summon made the young girl feel a bit on edge. Not seeing her brother anywhere in the room, Alma got to her feet and exited the bedroom, trying to find Ramza. He wasn't in the kitchen, nor the den, it was almost like he had just disappeared.

Just then, a sound of what sounded like a sword slash was heard outside of the house. Alma crept over to the front door of the cottage and slowly opened it a nudge, peeking out with a keen eye.

"Brother..." Alma whispered lowly.

It was indeed Ramza, who, for some reason or another, was practicing his swordsmanship in the dead of night. The fact he still took up such arms made Alma feel disturbed. After all, the war was over now, why would Ramza need to continue use of such a simple tool of death and destruction like a sword?

But he continued on. Thrusting, parrying, slashing, all the ways of battle still shone fresh in the boy's moves. It was unsure of just how much time had passed since the Lion War's climax, but clearly it was not enough for Ramza to forget his ways of a soldier.

Another regal thrust from his trusty rapier, and a nearby tree, stout in appearance and durability, was run through with ease. Ramza started his journey a novice of the sword, and ended it as a master of the art. His skill in the way of the sword brought about the end of some of Ivalice's most vile of people, from Cardinal Draclau to Marquis Elmdor, both of which had been tainted by the Zodiac Stones.

The supposed "Holy" stones from the legend of the Zodiac Braves. There was absolutely nothing holy about these horrid pieces of rock. They hid within them the spirits of the Lucavi. Only through misinterpretation were the stones believed to bring great prosperity to all. But those mistakes of judgment would never again be made, as all of the stones were now buried well away from any sort of desire concerning them. Ramza Beoulve would be the guardian of those stones, whether he wanted to do so or not. His role as hero of the Lion War also came with the curse of being the overseer of the stones.

Ramza, and Alma as well, both lost everything in the war. They lost their status as part of the Beoulve family, they lost their family to both the war and the Lucavi, and they lost their places in the world itself. Now they were simply...there. No status, no place, nothing of the sort. Ramza initially had no qualms with simply being a normal part of the world, but deep down, he desired something more. This was by no means a selfish type of desire, but during the Lion War, Ramza felt needed. He felt that he was actually making a difference in the history of Ivalice, a difference for the greater good. But just as news of Delita's death and the probability of his haste replacement found their way into his mind, Ramza knew that his efforts, while valorous to no end, were overly futile.

The Lucavi were indeed a threat to all of humankind, but they were not the greatest foe. The greatest foe of mankind, was mankind itself. The evil of devils has its limits, but the evils of man knows no boundaries. When a devil falls, there is little else that could replicate such evil, but when a decadent man falls, another comes to take his place. Another so much more vile and twisted. The sheer temptations of mortal status inadvertently overthrew any ideals of those of the damned, thus making them infinitely more treacherous than whatever the Lucavi could hope to become.

Ramza Beoulve knew that his efforts to stop the Lucavi were only one side of the conflict that raged on in Ivalice. However, this other conflict was not glorified as the Lion War, nor was it acknowledged by anyone. This conflict resided within the hearts of people everywhere, and even Ramza had no place in what they could do. He was a hero of the people, and could dare not interfere with the ways of those people he had sworn to protect.

And so, Ramza could only remain a soldier, no longer for the people, but for himself, and for Alma. He yearned for battle once more, but at the same time cringed at the thought of another conflict such as the Lion War coming to pass again. He was torn between the love of being a warrior and the humility of being himself. He could only vent his frustrations with swings of his sword. Each swing was fueled by a mixture of confusion, anger, and helplessness. Ramza's swordsmanship, while perhaps the strongest of any of Ivalice's warriors at one time, was now a mere half-shell of its former glory.

Ramza removed his sword from the tree he had just impaled and returned the blade to the sheath belted onto his side. The boy then sat down on the ground and curled up into a ball. Alma sighed dejectedly to herself, then closed the door and returned to her room. This was not something she had a part in, and she knew that all too well. She was his blood sister, his only remaining piece of existence, but she understood that this did not concern her or her paternal love she felt for Ramza. This was something only Ramza himself could overcome, no one could possibly try and help him with it.

Alma lay back down in bed, trying to forget the thoughts of her depressed sibling, but it refused to be suppressed. Alma tossed and turned with all her power, trying to get back to sleep.

"I'm sorry brother..." Alma choked out. "I can't do anything for you...I'm sorry I'm so weak..."

Torn...

"What?" Alma said startled, sitting up in a panic.

When the savior becomes torn, those who have fallen will rise again, and take their revenge...

"Who's there!" Alma yelped, jumping out of her bed, looking around hurriedly.

He robbed me of everything, and now, the favor will be returned tenfold...

Alma bolted for the door, wanting to warn Ramza of this possible intruder, but she only made it halfway. A tremendous force threw her to the ground and pinned her there.

"Brother! Help me!" Alma screamed.

But Ramza was far removed from the cottage, and could not hear Alma's pleas for assistance.

Worry not, young one, your death, while not for some time, will be painless, but his...it shall be excruciating beyond belief.

"No!" She screamed once more.

Meanwhile...

"Father..." Said Ramza. "What...what am I supposed to do now...?"

Die...

"What in the name of...?" Ramza stuttered.

You can die... The cryptic voice echoed again menacingly. Ramza instinctively went for his sword.

"Show yourself!" Ramza demanded, eyes darting all around the area.

"We meet again, boy." A familiar voice came from behind a tree.

"You..." Ramza trailed off. "Impossible! This isn't happening!"

"Oh, but it is." The voice assured Ramza.

A shadowy figure stepped from behind the tree where the voice was originating. The shadows surrounding him made it difficult for Ramza to determine who it was, but from the voice, Ramza was almost certain of who it was.

"You took everything from me, you damn Beoulve." The figure grimaced. "And now, I'm going to take everything from you."

"I'll stop you." Ramza said confidently, raising his sword and pointing it at the figure. "I've done it once before, and I can do it again."

"I think not." Retorted the figure. "Because this time, it is you who is going to destroy yourself. I am here to make sure this happens."

"If you think you're going to get to the stones..." Ramza muttered lowly.

"Stones?" The figure scoffed, which then turned into a sadistic cackle. "I have no need for those worthless pieces of rock. I've already sampled their power, and retain part of it within me. It is partially what keeps me here."

"That's absurd!" Ramza exclaimed. "You can't hold any power of the stones without actually having them!"

"You think so?" The figure replied challengingly. "Then strike, Ramza Beoulve, and let me show you just how mistaken you are."

Ramza didn't need any further provocation, charging at the figure with reckless abandon. Rearing his sword back, Ramza delivered a deft half-crescent slice to the figure. The edge of the blade cut clean through, and whoever this person was, was cut in half from mid-torso. Both pieces of the body fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Ramza took a step back and held his free hand to his mouth, trying to prevent himself from gagging at the sight of such a brutal kill shot.

"What?" Ramza said in disbelief. "How could...!"

The upper half of the figure was slowly gliding back onto the bottom half. Seconds later, the figure stood once again, completely unscathed.

"You see? You cannot kill me, as I am already dead. Only when you have become tainted will I ever vanish from this plane of existence. Your destruction is my ultimate goal, be it in life, or be it in death."

"Why is it you desire my demise?" Ramza asked, sheathing his sword as he knew it was a pointless effort. "What have I done to make you detest me so?"

"I told you, you've taken everything from me. Now you will know just how it feels."

The figure melted into the ground, and its presence ceased to exist within the vicinity. Fearing for Alma's safety as well as that of the Holy Stones, Ramza began into a mad dash for the cottage. As he neared the hut, it suddenly burst into flames. Ramza's jaw dropped in shock.

"Alma!" Ramza screamed. The boy dropped to his knees, slamming his fists on the ground repeatedly.

"Is this what you wanted?" Ramza asked himself. "To take my sister away from me? Is that what you desired?"

"Brother..." A soft voice cooed from a few feet away. Ramza lifted his head.

"Alma...you're okay!" Said Ramza joyfully. He got to his feet in a flash and ran over to Alma, hugging his sister tightly.

"Yes brother, I'm okay..." Alma whimpered, wrapping her arms around Ramza and resting her head on his shoulder.

"How did you..." Ramza tried to speak, but was too taken in holding his little sister in his arms to even finish his sentence.

"It matters not brother..." Alma said softly. "What matters is that you and I are both alive."

"Yes, yes, you are right." Ramza agreed wholeheartedly.

"But..." Alma started, "That's a problem, you see..."

"Alma...?"

Alma's hands then turned as cold as ice, sending chills up and down Ramza's spine. Before he could react, Ramza felt a blade as chilling as his sibling's hands being thrust into his back. His mouth opened in shock, but no words came out. Alma glared at him evilly.

"You...!" Ramza choked out.

"We will see each other again, sometime in the near future." Said Alma, her voice twisted and distorted. "Until then, let me leave this as a reminder of yourself."

Ramza tried to force himself away from Alma, but his body refused to move. He then felt the dagger in his back be removed, but felt the stinging tip of the knife trace along the skin on his back. The dagger sliced clean through his armor, the plate mail giving way to the blade's path. After seconds of unbelievable pain, the dagger was drawn back once more. Alma then stepped away from Ramza, and he fell to the ground, completely paralyzed.

"Your sins will be your downfall, Beoulve." Said 'Alma.' "Third son of the accursed Beoulve family, enemy of God almighty. When the time comes, your trip to hell shall be long and arduous. Innocence escapes you, and thus you will never see your precious sibling in the afterlife. You will join those you have struck down in the fiery pits of purgatory. The Reverse Trinity that shall be burned into your being is your ticket for your one way journal to the dismal abyss."

With a wave of her hand, Alma vanished into thin air, the dagger dropping to the ground where she vanished.

"Alma...!"

Ramza tried to get to his feet, but just as he did so, he could feel his back beginning to sting. This wasn't just the sting of the open wound, it felt much more potent, almost like fire...

"No...!" Ramza screamed in agony, his back feeling as if it were ablaze. Moments later, the paralysis keeping him ensnared vanished, and Ramza shot to his feet. With one last look at the burning hulk of a building he once called home, Ramza took off running, full speed. His destination was unknown, but he ran with all of his inward power. His sense of direction marred, Ramza could only blindly dash wherever he felt was the right way. He ran for what seemed like hours, until finally collapsing onto his stomach in an open field. The light from the morning sun peeked over the horizon, casting light onto the downed young man. Ramza winced as the rays of the sun made his wounds ache even more, but he couldn't move any further. All he could do was lie helpless on the ground. There was no one who could help him now. Ramza Beoulve had now lost everything. His one final shred of happiness was taken away from him, for reasons even Ramza could not fully grasp. He felt completely helpless right now.

"No...I won't...submit..." Ramza spat, ordering himself to pick his battered body off the ground. He clenched his fists together and felt the earth crumble in his hands. This feeling told him that he was still alive, and thus, Ramza pulled himself up.

"Alma...I'm going to find you...I'll...I'll search this whole world for you if I must...please hold on..." Ramza squeaked. Taking one step forward, he felt his knees buckle, and he once again found himself falling to the ground. However, this time, his fall was broken by what felt like a person's arms. They were strong, keeping Ramza supported, yet at the same time, delicate like a flower.

"Fear not." A gruff voice said to Ramza. "You're safe now."

"I'm...safe..." Ramza told himself, closing his eyes and blacking out from exhaustion.