Chapter Two

Above, Terra stood with gloved hands deep in the pockets of the coat she'd had ever since she could remember, the coat Locke bought for her secondhand the snowy day they met. It had a hood, it was warm, it had been mended over and over both before and since she'd gotten it, but mostly, it was the first thing anyone had ever given her. The others were talking about how to get to town, whether it looked like snow, should they try to buy or borrow a cart from a nearby farmer or just set off on foot, but Terra was thinking of gifts, and home.

She needed to find gifts for the kids; not just necessities like shoes and coats, but toys, maybe some books. There'd be a bit left over for those after she spent everything else on the coats and shoes. She had a sheaf of papers folded up in her pocket where they'd all traced their stocking feet onto paper, for size, and notes on each about arm and shoulder and torso measurements. She hoped that was enough to get things that fit.

This holiday was supposed to be about gifts, though; she'd been wanting new coats and shoes for the kids before she ever thought of Solstice celebrations. While the last one they'd spent, just a few months after she'd come to Mobliz, had been stark, Duane and Katarin had done their best to make it a special day for the kids; she'd tried to help, but had no sense of the customs and the importance of it for them. They'd gone hunting so they could be sure to have meat, and they'd used some of their precious hoard of spices to make sure the food was tasty rather than simply edible. Katarin had broken into some of the stores that had stayed locked and whole to look for things to give as gifts, and had made others. It's not so much the gift itself as waiting for it and then getting it, Katarin had said. And having something to look forward to. She wanted them to have nice things to look forward to this year, now that she'd seen how happy they were to get dolls made of yarn, smoke-stained picture books, and chipped, sun-faded toy soldiers.

Maybe it wasn't actually about the gifts. She'd heard Duane and Katarin talking about the sun, about reverence and prayer and lighting candles (Katarin was in favor of all those things, Duane slightly scornful when they spoke of it but very determined about finding some decent candles in one of the ruined stores, and solemn ) and Isabella had spoken of going to chapel with her parents at dawn, when they were alive, but everyone had been interested in the presents, and they'd been so happy.

She was trying to think of that, because she didn't want to think of the other thing. She'd been climbing the ladder up to the deck when she heard Strago saying in a loud whisper, "Don't you think you should tell her, Edgar? She deserves—" and then falling silent as her head came through the hatch. There had been other things, and they were starting to add up. There had been long conversations about the way that magic hadn't seemed to work quite right at first, right after the world broke. Espers seemed sluggish, unresponsive, their glow dimmed, and spells seemed less powerful. It might just be us, she'd suggested. The confusion of her own emotions had sapped her strength, both magical and mundane, along with her will to fight. There'd been agreement, but inconclusive agreement.

There'd been endless rehashing of what had happened on the Floating Continent – Kefka pushing the statues out of alignment, then being pinned between them. About the power he had now, the conviction everyone from ordinary townsfolk to his followers in the tower had that he was the source of destruction, and about the source of that power. The conviction seemed to be that either he controlled the statues or had taken their power directly to himself. The source of all magic was either in his hands or under his control; everything they were using to heal burns and speed their own swordarms was stolen from him. She thought they had to be like mice nibbling at the edges of his power. He scared her; he'd always, always scared her, from the first time she saw him laughing at the gates of Figaro Castle as the flames caught at the wood. The fear had been intense, unreasoning, and she only realized much later that it had to be based on the past she'd lost, or the few fragments she hadn't. My sweet little magic user.

Magic was under his control. Espers lived by it. And Terra was part Esper. She didn't know exactly what Strago thought, but she could hazard a guess.

"Terra?"

"Hm?" It'd been Setzer's voice.

"Is something wrong? You seem preoccupied."

Locke looked her way, and Edgar. She looked down. "I was just... thinking. I... Strago, am I going to die?"

"What?" Locke demanded, and Edgar said "We can't be certain of anything," but Strago didn't answer right away, and Terra didn't look away from him.

"I am, aren't I?"

"Edgar's right, we can't be certain. But in theory, it doesn't look good."

"Half of your theory is based on fairy tales, isn't it?" Setzer, lounging against the ship's controls, hands in his pockets.

"How many of those old stories turned out to be true? How many of them have we fought?" He turned back to Terra. "Espers had some flesh on 'em – enough to seem solid, enough to get children on a human, apparently." He chuckled, but no one else did, and he continued. "But most of their being is magic. That's why there's never a corpse when an Esper dies. There's no way of telling how deeply magic runs in you, my girl, but you can change shape, and even as a human, you look—" he gestured, and Terra ducked her head, loose hanks of jade-green hair that had escaped the ponytail falling around her face. "There's no knowing for sure, but there's a risk. I thought you should know." He thumped his cane on the deck, cleared his throat. "I didn't mean you to overhear. Wanted to break it to you differently."

"It's okay," she said. "We have to stop Kefka. That's the only important thing. I guess it's good to know, though." She felt empty; not scared, not worried or angry or upset, just strangely blank.

"That's it? 'I'm going to die but it's okay'?" Locke sounded angry enough for both of them. "You couldn't have mentioned this any sooner, Strago? Gods! Were you planning to bring this up at all? Ever?"

"Locke, leave him alone," Edgar said before the old man could answer. "It's not like he's plotting her death; he saw the possibility, he thought to bring it up. It's not like we haven't been fretting about this already."

"That was what made me think of it. I just overheard him saying Edgar should tell 'her,' and I figured out the rest." She wondered what she ought to be feeling. Fear? "Worrying about it won't help. Did you ever decide how we were getting to town?"

"Yeah, good question," Sabin said, climbing up onto the deck and reaching down to help Gau up. "I thought you guys were going on ahead of us."

"We were a bit held up," Edgar said.

"I'm ready to go now," Locke said. "Edgar, we can send a couple of chocobos back for you. Terra?" She moved to follow him, but Edgar caught her sleeve.

"I'd like a word with you in private, Terra – it'll only be a moment."

"Okay," she said. "Locke, go on ahead, I'll be right down."

"We go too?" Gau asked.

"I... guess so, yeah." Sabin seemed puzzled, but didn't ask any questions. Cyan emerged onto the deck, and Sabin added "Looks like we're going with Locke and Terra."

"Indeed?" the knight replied, without much interest. Terra followed Edgar to the prow of the ship, looking back as the others made their way down the ramp.

"Terra, I want you to know I hadn't put the pieces together until Strago brought the subject up just now," he began. "And I also want you to know I'm not sure I believe he's correct. But if he is, if — if anything happens to you, I want you to know your family will be provided for. A stipend for their support, help and funds if they want to relocate, and trusts for educating or apprenticing all the children. I can have it put in writing this afternoon if you'd like – I believe the crown still has a consulate in Nikeah."

"No, that's— it's— I trust you, Edgar, you don't need to sign anything."

"I want to do something," he said. "We got you into this."

"If it hadn't been this, where would I be?" she asked, smiling faintly. "I... they'll need all that, especially if I'm gone. If you want to draw up a contract..."

"I will," he said. "I hope we never need it."


The walk into Nikeah proper took some time. The cold seeped through their boots and the silence rang in her ears. Sabin made a few attempts at conversation – "Wasn't Strago trying to get away before Relm caught on?" and "So, all that planning was wasted," and finally "Okay, I guess I can take a hint." After that, it was just the crunching of snow, the sound of breathing, and the occasional call of a bird or flapping of wings.

Terra couldn't stop thinking, now. If she died, she'd never see the kids grown. She'd never know what Katarin's baby would look like, if it was even a boy or girl. She'd never know how things turned out. That was a thought she could face with anger, sorrow, defiance; the thought of dying, just not existing, was overwhelming, too immense and unbearable even to consider. It wasn't even terrifying, it was incomprehensible. She wanted to ask What happens when you die? but Locke got so angry at Strago for bringing it up, she was afraid he'd get mad at her, too, and really, no one would actually know, since none of them had been dead. But it might be nice to know what they thought.

As they walked, she looked around mechanically, trying to recover interest in the way things changed as they grew closer to town; from the road, at first, they saw farmhouses in large fields, then houses with room for large gardens, a handful of chickens, and a pig or goat, then houses with just gardens, interspersed with occasional shops, inns, and pubs, growing denser and closer together. The stopped outside a chocobo stable as Locke went inside, and Terra turned to the others. "What happens when you die? I mean, after you're dead, is that it?"

"Crows eat you," Gau said, as he arranged himself into a careful crouch with only his feet and the tips of his gloved fingers in the snow. "And hyena."

"Gau!" Sabin exclaimed, sounding appalled.

"What? That what happen." Unconcerned, he began drawing circles in the snow with one hand. "And kappa say you heart born over again. Born as something else. Other animal. Not sure how they know."

"Kappas? Really? Gau, is that how you learned to talk?" The wild boy didn't answer Sabin's question, though, and the prince looked back up at Terra. "In Figaro, we think you go on to a better place after you die, though everyone's pretty vague on the details now. Comes of having civil wars over them, even if that was centuries ago."

"Our dead go on to another world," Cyan said. "Once the legend said Death took souls to the other side in a black carriage drawn by skeletal horses, but now he uses a train."

"He does?" Terra said, struck by his certainty.

"I've seen it. Sir Sabin and I have ridden it."

"Yep. Good thing I was never religious or it might have been some kind of a crisis for me."

"Yet you celebrate this," Cyan said.

"Hell, Midwinter's not about religion! It's about... family and stuff. Warm and fuzzy things. And candy and presents. Everybody needs something to brighten the winter up. People need customs and special occasions."

"Does everyone celebrate Midwinter?" Terra asked. Locke was standing in the stable yard, talking to a girl in riding breeches and pointing off to the west.

"Certainly not!" Cyan retorted. "This is all paganish Western nonsense. Doma has no part of it."

"No, you just celebrate the New Year two weeks later." Sabin's tone was mischievous, but Cyan had no response. "In Jidoor I think they celebrate the spring solstice as their most important holiday," he continued, to Terra. "Celes told me the New Year was the most important holiday in the Empire, too, but that's in the summer for them. I don't think they did much in winter."

"Relm said they celebrate something around the fall, something to do with Esper history from around the War of the Magi."

"Their fall. Aren't they below the equator? The seasons are reversed."

"Mobliz's aren't..." Terra said, but Locke rejoined them, and Sabin had a question about the chocobo hire, which turned into a discussion of the rooms Edgar had said he'd rent when he'd expected to arrive in town first. Terra fell behind, thinking of trains.