"Did this amazing adventure happen or not? No one can say for sure." - Max
Wind whistled in the trees, bringing with it the scent of pine needles and snow.
Arc shivered and pulled his coat in tighter. He supposed the temperature flucuations were to be expected this late into winter – it wasn't like they lived on the World Below where people walked around in only a couple layers during the spring.
But then, this was this same blasting cold that felt like home.
Arc pulled snow close, wondering about the forces that made it bend to his will. It was like a muscle, but only in his head, and carried the faintest scent of smoke when he flexed it.
Flakes swirled near, some turning into small shapes akin to spheres near him. An air current around him formed from the drift, flowing around and around his torso. Arc stopped pulling in and simply let the spinning current stay.
They were going downhill, but it still took some effort to trudge along in the meter-high snow. And then there was Luneth, who didn't seem to notice the knee-high drifts. Instead he lighted upon the surface, snow shoes sliding along like they were walking on dirt. He had been given those from a villager in their travels - a girl so grateful for their help that she scrounged up the only possessions she could part with. And gave them especially to Luneth.
Arc sighed. Luneth drew people in like a magnet. He attracted them with his enthusiasm and energy and warmth.
Snow twirled and danced in the air about him faster as it caught a gust that swept in from the north. Flakes pecked him on the cheek.
"Hey!"
Arc looked Luneth's way and his brother chucked a snowball right at him.
Instincts kicked in and Arc yanked snow from around him. Formed a shield just in time for Luneth's ball to smack into it. "Hey-!" he started as the shield fell away.
Luneth pitched again.
Arc responded with another shield. He supposed he could tell Luneth to stop…
… But he wasn't about to back down from a challenge.
Luneth darted to the side and Arc dropped his shield. Spun on his feet to keep up with Luneth's position.
Another snowball formed in Luneth's hand. Arc cursed, throwing up another shield. As soon as the shield sounded with the dull impact of another snowball, Arc compressed it down into a small, more compact shape. He then hurled that at Luneth.
He jumped at that and rolled out of the way. Arc took the opening and tossed another snowball. It hit Luneth in the leg as he leaped to his feet.
Arc prepared another one.
Luneth was faster. A snowball materialized in his hands and he pitched. It smacked Arc's shoulder, and he grunted, preparing another attack.
"Oh, no you don't!" Luneth shouted, throwing up a dozen snowballs at once.
Arc choked and lobbed that last one before breaking into a run.
Luneth's stupid snowshoes. To counterbalance the issue, Arc turned sage. The robes were heavy, but thanks to the downhill slope, all he needed was some good sliders.
He formed snow over his feet as he ran and compressed that into hard ice, with tails extending on the front and back of both feet. Jumped forward and hit the ground at an angle that got him slipping down the hill.
A ball narrowly missed him.
To keep up momentum, Arc moved the snow up and down before him, shifting it out of the way to form steeper inclines and declines. Snowballs sped ahead of him, hitting trees and rocks.
"Cheater!" Luneth shouted from behind.
"Says the one shooting more than one at a time!" Arc twisted around some trees, pushing the snow behind him to keep moving. "What warranted this?!"
"I wanted to!"
Arc shook his head as another ball smacked his arm. The light of Cid's village came closer and he could make out the outlines of the roofs and people hustling about and getting ready to turn in for the night.
When did it get that late?
Arc hunched over a touch, melting his feet. Ice cracked and splintered, the tips of his sliders flying off and throwing off his balance. He jumped just before the last of it split free and he landed on his feet in the road.
He found himself in front of the frozen fountain in town square. Villagers startled and stared, some cast weary looks. Perhaps it was strange to see such a spectacle, robes and all.
"Gotcha!"
Arc hit the ground and pounds of snowball buryed him under their weight.
"Honestly!" Mrs. Cid huffed. "You'll get yourselves hurt if you keep up such reckless behavior."
Arc ducked his head and clutched his tea closer, willing it to warm his puffy fingers that seemed to silently agree with Mrs. Cid. Her husband sat with them, but he was more focused on his drink than conversation.
"We were just having some fun," Luneth said. "Right, Arc?"
"… Of course."
Mrs. Cid scoffed. "Fun, was it? Will it be fun when you catch pneumonia and find yourself in bed all day?"
Luneth made a choking sound. "We're more careful than that! Come on, we're the Warriors of Light, after all!"
"If the crystal wanted someone invincible, they would have found some ancients. Now drink your tea – it's getting cold."
They obliged. Arc didn't care much for the blend – it tasted too strongly of mint – but he didn't complain. It was hot and fresh and chases away the worst of the cold.
"So," Cid said, shifting his weight away from the counter. "You got our message then?"
"Mm." Luneth set his tea down – he never was much of a fan. "You said you had something to show us?"
Cid nodded and pulled a tattered book off the shelf beside him. "A journal, specifically." Took a sip from his mug and fell quiet.
Luneth slumped. "That's it? You wanted to tell about some dumb history?"
Cid brushed dust from the cover and heaved a sigh. "Not just some dumb history, my boy. It's your father's."
Luneth blinked. "I have a father?"
"Oh, no." Cid gestured to Arc. "I meant his, sorry."
The cover might have once been brown leather, but now it was more of a purpleish, discolored in hues of black and gray. The edges were worn down to the wood and corners were missing.
"Found it after the crash." Cid slid it Arc's way. "I went looking afterward to see if there was anything left to salvage; parts, belongings, valuables. Found nothing but this blasted thing. So many lives lost and yet…" He shook his head. "Never mind all that. We'll count our fortunes where we have them."
"How'd you know it was mine?" Arc asked.
"It mentions you by name and the description matched."
The front pages seemed okay, if a little yellowed from age. The ink had faded considerably, but not beyond readability. The edges of the paper were torn and tattered, some parts burnt and flaking off. I set out this morning with Arc, it read. We've already cleared Norune.
"Do you know where he came from?" Arc asked. "I don't recognize these names."
"Not those first ones, no," Cid said. "But when he comes here later, it'll make a little more sense."
"'Here?'" Luneth asked. "You mean there's a 'there?' Where?"
Cid shrugged again. "Another land, I guess."
Luneth's face lit up. "A whole other land? Why didn't you tell us before?"
"Forgot. Wasn't gonna give it to you as waddling babes, in case you hurt it or went lookin' for a dead man. But I found it again in the pantry the other day and figured it was time."
"The scholars in Saronia will be happy," Arc said. "I've been wanting to find something to submit to their archives for a while."
Luneth's grin vanished and he rolled his eyes.
"Oh, good!" Mrs. Cid said. "You're helping in the efforts down there?"
"I'm hoping to join the Great Library next year."
"I suppose not everyone can get into airships," Cid said.
"Have you reached that friend of yours?" Arc asked. "The pilot?"
Cid shook his head. "He's a darn fool, looking for trouble. If you're gonna build a ship, give it to someone younger with more wanderlust, and take the money to give yourself a better house or renovation. Only gonna get himself hurt, he is. And he has a child to watch over still and his illness… it's a mess right now."
"Yeah," Luneth said. "We could always use more ships. We'll just take it for our fleet."
"Saronia's fleet," Arc corrected him. "We only borrow them."
"They barely use them!"
"They use them more than we do. You know, for Alus' envoys and conferences."
Luneth muttered under his breath. Arc only caught the words "waste" and "privileged."
"Luneth," Mrs. Cid said. "Your tea."
Still grumbling, Luneth lifted his drink to his lips and visibly suppressed a shudder when he took a sip. "It's still our fleet. Saronia just borrows them."
"Anyway," Cid said, taking a swig of ale. "This journal talks about a lot of things, it does, and there are lot of things it doesn't talk about. Kinda confusing at times and hard to follow, but it does makes one thing obvious."
"What?" Arc asked.
Cid leaned in. "This journal has a brother."
Toan breathed in the scent of blooming flowers and warmed earth as he leaned against a tree by the pond. His hook waited, unbaited, in the water. Xiao laid curled in on herself beside him, body moving with small and steady breaths.
Hard as it was to talk to her as a cat, he was more concerned now with drawing concerned looks from Pike, Paige and Laura. And disturbingly knowing nods from Gaffer and Hag. Gina seemed to think it was some kind of game and so had Carl until Alnet had pulled him aside one day.
Now Carl loved to loudly declare that he was too old for games like that.
They likely wouldn't have even noticed how much he talked to Xiao if he hadn't tried to talk to his mother about the second moon that should be in the sky. And the events that led up to its disappearance, like the fake genie that destroyed every city on the continent and that Toan's quest to go back in time and prevent that genie from ever existing.
As it turned out, when something never existed, it didn't stick in memory, either.
And it looked like that was what had happened with the blue moon, too. Toan was relieved that it wasn't the yellow moon that had disappeared – there were people on that one – but how could erasing the Dark Genie in Seda's time affect a moon?
But what could he do about it, anyway? He still had the Chronicle Two at least, but he hadn't seen the Fairy King since coming back to Norune, and although Xiao definitely remembered their journey, he had no idea if anyone else did. Not to mention the Atlamillia that vanished on Sophie's waking.
"Maybe we just shouldn't worry about it," he said to the sleeping Xaio while there was no one nearby to call him out. "The fae from the Moon Sea aren't… They don't… It's probably fine."
Xiao shifted, purring.
"What if the moon isn't the only thing that disappeared, though? I mean, people have talked about Matataki, so we know that's still here, but what about Queens? Muska Racka? If they're gone, we'd never even know."
"Talking to yourself again, Toan?"
Xiao jumped and Toan sighed. Mom leaned against the tree above him and he felt her gaze boring into the back of his head. Xiao moved between them – she tended to do that, ever since she realized how the villagers saw Toan.
Unless the other person was Gina. She liked Gina, though Toan wasn't sure why.
"Xiao," he said, as his mother warily eyed the cat, "Please."
Xiao stood in place for a moment longer, then backed away.
"She's pretty smart," Mom said. She sounded exhausted and Toan wished he could just take back everything he told her. He should have stopped talking the moment he realized she didn't remember – why on Blue Terra did he think she would understand?
He reeled back his line and got to his feet, "I know she doesn't talk, Mom, but it feels like she listens."
It wasn't a lie, but Mom still frowned as if he just told her… well, as if he said that a fat pink genie once rained fiery death on Norune in a time that didn't exist anymore. She said nothing, though, and instead pulled a small, worn book from behind her back. Handed it to Toan, "I'd like you to read this."
He looked over the book's dark binding. There were little etched patterns around the edges, but no title. It was thin, fraying at the seams, and the pages were yellow and crinkled.
"It's your father's journal, Toan."
He snapped his head up.
"I know," Mom said, "I've always wondered when the time would come to tell you about him. I think this is it."
The small, thin book suddenly felt like a brick in his hands. Xiao meowed questioningly.
"Yes," Toan said absently, "Of course I'll read it out loud."
And cringed as he realized what he said.
His mother shut her eyes and pursed her lips.
Toan clutched the book close to his chest and muttered an apology.
When she remained quiet, he picked up his pole and made for home with Xiao at his heels and questions on his mind.
What would his father have to say?
I do not see the point of this exercise, but my teacher is often so obtuse. Though even calling him a 'teacher' seems to me to be a stretch of the definition. I have not seen him in a month, which I believe should be an unusual occurrence between mentors and their students.
But I do not expect him back until it has been at least half a year.
That said, I feel I must justify his absence. He is not typical to begin with, by any description. Firstly by not being human, and secondly by associating with us regardless. And while it is one matter that an owl or firbit should leave their fair dungeons to make a home among we human–kind, it is another entirely for the Fairy King himself to leave the deepest levels of those realms to deign to speak with one such as I. Let alone to take the time to give me advice on matters of the mystic.
Perhaps one day, when I have obtained the legendary Chronicle II sword, I shall run him through with it for being so roundabout.
I jest, of course. Unlike many foolhardy adventurers – those that cannot distinguish between a mad Tuesday and a sane one – I would not attack a lord of the dungeons without a most compelling reason. And while it is not unusual for corruption to find its way into the lesser monsters of the dungeon, such that they must be destroyed, I can hardly imagine circumstances so dire that such darkness could find its way into the great Master Utan, let alone the Fairy King.
Though the power such a being could imbue into a weapon is… well, I would not know.
I come now to the city of Queens, and shall write again at a later time.
Xiao pushed her head against his chin, forcing Toan to look away from the book. He closed it – though he kept two fingers inside to mark his place – and sat back. "What?"
"Meow?"
"I'm sorry," Toan said, pushing her off as she started to sit on his wrist, "I don't know what the question is."
Xiao batted at the book's cover. "Mrrow."
"The book?"
She shook her head.
"The Fairy King?"
Still not the question.
"… My dad?"
"Meow!"
Toan frowned, "What about him?"
Xiao just plopped down on top of his wrist and purred.
"I don't really remember him. He left when I was little, and all Mom's ever said about him is that he traveled a lot."
"Mrrow."
An endless tower came to mind. Floor after floor of breathless fights and intricate stonework, pushing through a labyrinth of stained and dusted light. A platform carrying the six of them ever higher until…
"Yes," Toan said quietly, "I think that was him. In Demon Shaft."
"Purrl."
"Ugh, good thing I didn't mention that part to Mom. The Dark Genie is one thing, but I do not want to know how people would look at me if I went around saying that I killed my father."
"Mrr."
"I don't really want to think about it, Xiao." Toan pulled the book back open, "Mom should be okay – I think he's been dead to her for a long time already. And I… well, this is probably the closest I'll ever get to the man he was before he left. Whatever brought him to Demon Shaft couldn't be good."
Hopefully he didn't actually try to kill the Fairy King. But considering the monster they faced at the top of Demon Shaft, Toan wouldn't be surprised if he had.
He shook that thought away and continued reading.
Hours ticked away as he went through the journal. His father, Aga, traveled across Blue Terra, even building a ship like the one in the Sun and Moon Temple – except it could only cross oceans, rather than going all the way to the moons – and using it to range out further west than Queens. He spoke of lands far across the ocean and of a giant island that floated in the sky above it. He made friends and enemies in dozens of villages and cities, but only rarely traveled with other people, and never stayed with them long.
Though what most piqued Toan's curiosity was how Aga referred to the Fairy King. It was a near match with what Toan had observed of the old, robed figure, except that while Toan found him to be… long–winded, to put it kindly, he'd always been very direct and specific. Atlamillia works like this, this is how you infuse power into weapons, escaping dungeons goes just so. Yet his father consistently described him as approaching everything in an annoyingly circuitous manner, and never once spoke to his habit of rambling on and on.
I have never encountered a yammich. They inhabit the most peaceful dungeon I know of, the realm of the Divine Beast Dran. Yet the monsters there have grown restless, and one such has gone so far as to leave the caves. I have learned, from the dwindling number of travelers, that the villagers there are so accustomed to peace that they know nothing of how to combat creatures turned evil.
I find I can hardly conceive of the notion. Looking down on the village from the cliffs that surround it on all sides, I can see only one exit.
I can see only a killing ground.
Much has occurred since I last wrote. Just as I finished my last entry, the rogue yammich appeared at the very gate I had noted to be the only escape. It must have found somewhere to hide during the day, and I could see then that what I feared had come to be. I know not what a normal yammich seems as, but I could recognize that malevolence anywhere.
The impossibly thin monster floated over the grass as if untouched by the substance of mortal things – perhaps it was – sending all the villagers running to their homes. I jumped from the cliff to the roof of the highest building, but not to the ground. I learned at Sasune how inconvenient it was to move at ground level in the midst of hysteria.
Rather, I made my way across rooftops to reach the monster. It continued to glide, seeming oblivious to the panicked villagers. It may have been a humorous spectacle, were it not for the chill about my feet and crawling over my neck. Not a true chill to steal away warmth and turn the air to pale clouds, no. This was a phantom cold that brushed just lightly against the skin and left you snatching for warmth that it had not taken.
I neared my target when a startling scene made me stop.
How quickly I had accepted and even assumed the idea that no one here would fight the monsters. It would be critical to my health to know that no one would be there to back me up.
Yet the crowd was gone, and a young woman stood alone against the darkness, dagger in hand. The yammich drew closer, and she didn't move.
Perhaps I would have an ally here after all.
The yammich had come too close, and now all appearance of indifference vanished. I wasn't yet close enough to intervene when it attacked, one arm morphing into a giant spinning drill, diving to pierce the young woman's heart. She ducked and rolled out of the way, clumsy as any new warrior, yet managed to come back to her feet and slash at the yammich, scoring two hits.
Now I was close enough, I leapt from the roof to join the battle. The drill returned, faster than the young woman could back away, but I got there first, cleaving through the darkness with my turquoise blade.
It parted like paper. I thought it would have been more fearsome, but it seems Dran does well in keeping his realm. If this was the most powerful a monster here could become, these villagers truly had little to worry about.
"That was quite impressive," I told the young woman, "I heard there were no warriors here."
I believe she was flattered by the compliment, though she rebuffed it, "There aren't."
"Perhaps there weren't." Yes, I believe I was particularly smooth that evening. I do not often devote my attention to matters of attraction – worse still to let such interfere with the very particular respect between warriors – yet I could not restrain a different kind of admiration of her spirit, that refused to detach itself from the noble matters of warfare.
And yet she seemed determined not to accept my praise. "I could have been killed," she said.
Perhaps it was not honorable to be a warrior here? That would explain much.
Yet I could not leave well enough alone, "Your friends and family could have been killed. If you would stand between them and harm, is that not a good thing?"
She was silent for a long time, apparently contemplating the night sky, until I spoke again, "I apologize, for we have not been introduced. My name is Aga."
She met my eyes, and though she did not smile, it seemed to me she was happy, "I'm Renee."
So that was how they met. Toan rested a hand on the dagger at his side. The writing became patchy after that, glossing over subsequent travels in favor of focusing on later visits to Norune. It seemed Aga started by finding excuses to drop by on the way to somewhere else, and then simply started visiting the village – and Mom – for its own sake. He came by more and more frequently, until…
I have not seen the Fairy King in years, not since long before even the first time I had met Renee. Now, I, the eternally wandering swordsman, have done something I never in my wildest dreams imagined I would.
I have settled down. In quiet little Norune Village, with a wife and two sons.
Toan shut the book. There was one page left, but.
But.
Xiao's ears perked, and she stared at him without a sound. Silence engulfed them.
"I–" he stuttered, "I don't– I don't remember that. I– I had a brother?"
Xiao pressed her nose against the journal's edge, pushing it back open. After a moment's hesitation, Toan turned to the last page.
It was the midsummer festival, and he came as I was practicing my forms away from the celebration proper. It seemed like forever since I had had an opponent worthy of my skill, yet I was oddly at ease with that fact. I thought perhaps I could live out the remainder of my days here, in – though the word still felt odd in such a context – peace.
Then he came. He spoke differently than before, for he did not dance around the point or leave me to form my own conclusions. He told me that a great evil was coming, that it would be only a few years before it was released, and that it would devastate the entirety of the east.
Then he left.
What am I to do? I find my first concern is for my family, a notion I would have been horrified of five years ago. All of the east is in danger – and I have no reason to believe it will stop there – yet I cannot find it in me to care for more than three people?
I must remove them to the west, as only then can I turn my attention to the threat. They must be safe, or I will go to every battle knowing they could be gone when I return.
And now, that is not knowledge that I can be at peace with.
I have discussed this with Renee, but she and Toan are ill and cannot undertake this journey immediately. My skill with the blade has dulled, but I know I can take our youngest on the journey. He is old enough to survive without his mother, I can protect him, and I know those in the west who can care for him while I return for my wife and eldest child. It may even be better that I only need to protect the one. Renee is afraid, she has never left Norune Village, and has only a passing acquaintance with the use of weapons.
I know she will fight to the death for our children. I also know that she has not had need to fight since the yammich attack all those years ago.
I cannot tell her that I am also afraid.
I shall undertake the journey in two days' time, and convey Arc to safety before I return for Renee and Toan.
Toan leaned back, mind reeling. So Aga thought he was going to come back, huh? That clearly never happened. But, he left because he knew the Dark Genie was coming, which meant that everything that happened hadn't been completely erased. If this journal still existed, then there was still a memory of the Dark Genie of some sort, aside from his and Xiao's.
"This is it," Toan said, "He knew about the Dark Genie – if we find out where he went, I bet we'll find an answer for the moon."
"Mrrow," Xiao said, annoyed for what he was ignoring.
"And my brother, too."
"Mew…"
"Do you think we should tell Mom?"
Xiao covered her face with her paws.
"Yeah, I know. But I think leaving without saying anything would be worse."
"Meww…"
Toan got to his feet, "Come on, we went four hundred years into the past to fight the personification of evil, and we won. We can handle this!"
Xiao scrubbed at her ears, then hopped off the table to stand by his feet, "Meow!"
Mom smacked her forehead, "No, Toan! Your father was delusional, that was the whole point! The catastrophe that he was afraid of never happened, and you and I lost him and your brother because of it!"
Toan bit down a retort – Aga was not delusional but saying so would only dig him deeper into the 'crazy' hole. "I'm not saying he wasn't wrong. I just want to know where he went."
"It's been ten years, Toan. He's not coming back."
"Still. What if he made it to the west? My brother could still be alive somewhere out there."
Mom gave him a long, hard look. Then shook her head, "I can't lose you, too."
Toan set his jaw. Well then, leaving in the middle of the night, it was. He'd seen more in the erased year than any of the other villagers would see in their lives – he could take care of himself, and he wasn't going to be locked down in Norune just because no one believed it.
Xiao pushed against his ankle. He looked down, and she looked pointedly toward the Divine Beast Cave.
… Right. That was an option.
"We should take it up with Dran," Toan said, "He'll know what to do."
Mom scowled, "You want to leave that badly? Fine, then we'll take this to Dran. If you promise to abide by his decision."
Toan paused. He needed to investigate the missing moon, and his lost family. But breaking a promise to Mom… he couldn't do that. Better to leave without saying goodbye than to make a promise he didn't intend to keep. No, if he agreed, then he would have to stay if Dran said so.
Xiao gave an affirmative meow. She was confident about this.
"Alright," Toan said, feeling as though he was trying to balance on water, "Deal."
