~ Part One ~

Abyssal Moon

When I first laid my eyes on Tellius, I thought it looked beautiful and full of potential, in spite of Soren's grim warnings. In some ways, it was just like home. Lush green forests and open, verdant meadows lined the distant landscape, and lively ports dotted the coastline, resting amidst the pearly sands and rocky beaches. Then I saw the curtains of translucent, golden light, shimmering across the northern night sky, and I knew that for all the similarities I saw, I was still looking upon a foreign land brimming with mystery.

At the time, I could only think of the evening I spent chasing the fabled sky lights of Ferox, a short, lighthearted adventure that ended in mild disappointment. These lights were different, and yet something similar, and here they were, waiting for me, as if to welcome me to this distant world.

Now, when I think back upon that night, I can't help but see things in a different light. I can't help but see the eyes of Maelstrom and Extinction, swirling amidst the glowing ribbons, and the golden vapor that spills forth from fallen eidolons.

It was as if Tellius itself was trying to warn me that things here weren't as clean and lovely as they looked from afar. Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. The color was probably just a coincidence. Still, I saw the lights again the night after we defeated Extinction, as it to remind me of the thousands of eidolons plaguing Tellius still, or of Maelstrom, who's been unaccounted for ever since we battled him just off the Feroxi shores.

I've finally stopped dreaming about him. Instead, I find myself thinking of him whenever I'm awake. Even now that Extinction has been defeated, I can't quite shake the sense of dread and uselessness that I felt during our battle against him at Nevassa.

Will I ever see Maelstrom again? A big part of me wishes that I'll never have to face him, or Calamity either, for that matter. I had imagined that after Grima, no monster would ever truly strike fear into me again, but there was something terrifyingly surreal in the way Extinction threw himself into battle, effortlessly crushing through fortified stone walls and breaking almost all who stood against him.

But there's a soft voice nagging me, too, reminding me that if I were never to see Maelstrom again, I'd likely spend the rest of my life dreading his return. I remember overhearing Mom and Dad one night, a few weeks after we repelled Maelstrom from the Feroxi coast. They sounded afraid, and that, in itself, was more unsettling than Maelstrom had been. The worst part of it, as Dad said, is simply not knowing.

A very small part of me, a quiet voice that seems to go against all reason, wishes for Maelstrom to show himself so that we can face him and defeat him, putting those fears behind us for good. I know it's not rational, and that other horrors could one day arise, but somehow, that prospect feels less tangible than knowing that there's a massive whale-like abomination lurking somewhere beneath the ocean's surface.

This adventure may finally be nearing its end. We were able to defeat one of the three dire eidolons, and even if we don't know exactly where Calamity is, he's on the run. He's afraid, and when Uncle Chrom and the others find him, they'll put an end to him. The Redeemers, too, are running out of places to hide. Phoenicis and Daein have weathered their trials, and Begnion will stand fast against any of the Redeemers' subtle manipulations. If Emperor Yashiro's annoyance with his senate is even halfway justified, we'll all be dead of old age, even Soren, before the Redeemers can prompt Begnion into any sort of dangerous action.

Crimea and Gallia, the pinnacle of peace between Beorc and Laguz, is all that's left. We'll mend any rifts the Redeemers have torn, which will put an end to their schemes. If Maelstrom surfaces once more, we'll face him too, and put the last fear to rest forever.

And if he doesn't, then maybe we'll know peace sooner, even if I find myself thinking of him every time I see the glimmering golden lights reflected upon the moon.