Act Three: The Hooded Man's Tale | The Last of the Red Wings
The Feymarch, X days after the moon's return
Rydia stood helplessly before the King and Queen of the Eidolons in their chamber, feeling as if someone had taken her heart and squeezed until it had burst into nothingness. But despite the queen's cruel words, she would not let herself cry – she would not give Asura the pleasure of witnessing her in an emotive state, which she knew the queen would consider a weakness of humans like herself. As she straightened her spine and raised her chin defiantly, she noticed that Leviathan had paused, not looking at either Rydia or Asura. He cocked one overgrown, wiry gray eyebrow and stepped forward, his face falling.
Rydia suddenly forgot about her tough-girl act and rushed to Leviathan, fearful that he was about to collapse, for he had turned white as a sheet in a matter of seconds. She broke one of the Feymarch's most sacred rules, and spoke to him without having gained Queen Asura's permission first.
"What is it?" Rydia whispered, grasping his hands in hers. She was shocked to feel an agitated tremor, and realized that it was coming from Leviathan, and not herself.
Leviathan shook his head, and finally brought his gaze to Rydia's. She saw her diminutive form reflected in his cloudy violet eyes, and realized that although he was looking at her – he was not seeing her. Something else had captured his attention.
"No…listen, my dear Rydia, you must leave here at once."
"What?" Rydia blinked. "Why all of a sudden!?" Can't we even talk about this?
Asura pressed her fingers to her lips, closing her eyes. Instead of becoming enraged with Rydia like she had been only moments before, she instead offered the summoner a delicate smile.
"There is nothing to fear."
As Asura spoke, she opened her eyes again and reached up, bringing her fingers from her lips to her left temple and resting them there. Unconsciously, Rydia mirrored her, reaching up and brushing her fingers over the ruby hyacinth hairpin that was nestled in the untamed waves of hair that poured down her shoulders in a cascade of emerald.
Leviathan formed a blue orb of light between his cupped hands, and quickly tossed it at Rydia. Before she could run away, she felt the light wash over her, binding her arms and legs to her sides and paralyzing her from the neck down. She opened her mouth to cry out, but was spirited away from the chamber in a flash of blinding light before the scream could even escape her throat.
"What do you want?" Leviathan demanded, and a new figure appeared that had been lurking in the shadows.
A young woman who bore a striking resemblance to Rydia stepped into the light before the king and queen, swathed in a white gossamer gown, her teal hair tumbling over her bare shoulders. She fixated her amber glare on Leviathan, delicately crossing her arms over her chest. Her ruby earrings caught the light of Asura's many dazzling artifacts scattered throughout the chamber and glowed ominously.
"Your power. I am here to take it."
Asura smirked and slid a hand inside her canary-yellow wrap dress that draped across her chest, fluidly withdrawing a scimitar that should have been easily discernible in the tight curves of the fabric hugging her skin, but had instead materialized out of thin air at her command.
"We'll see about that."
The girl tilted her head, the hint of a smile barely curling on her coral lips. "Bahamut is already under our control."
Leviathan gritted his teeth, clenching his fists under the folds of his oversized, tattered robes. "The Hallowed Father of the Eidolons…? Who are you?"
In lieu of answering, she snapped her fingers, and time ceased to exist. The chamber faded into a dark gray hue, washing out the glimmering reflections of the treasures Asura had collected over the millennia and dulling the glow of the magma beneath their feet. Leviathan and Asura were frozen in place, their lips parted in mid-scream and Asura's blade raised in the air.
When she snapped her fingers again, the room exploded in color once more, but the king and queen remained motionless – their bodies had been encased in radiant silver marble, their corporeal forms shackled to the planet in a state of petrification.
Eblan, the morning of the moon's return
King Edge of Eblan stared listlessly before him, the northern desert winds stinging his eyes. He made no motion to protect his face, daring to not even blink as he slightly shifted his weight to his other foot. He had been standing on the parapet for fifteen minutes, observing the Tower of Babil that was miles away from his tower in the Eblanese castle.
He thought the tower had had a slight glow shrouded around it when he woke up that morning. It had become a torturous habit of his to gaze out the window every morning and immediately seek out the tower – a place where Edge had encountered many horrors in his younger days. The last time he had set foot in it was nearly fifteen years ago, when a mysterious girl had attempted to impersonate Rydia and activate the tower, nearly killing himself, Cecil, Palom and Porom in the process. The real Rydia had managed to save them just in time, defeating the impostor and mitigating any disaster that might have been in the works. Nothing had ever come of those bizarre thirty-six hours – sometimes Edge wondered if he had been trapped in some sort of fever dream and made it all up.
Even though he had known right away that the imposter was not their Rydia, it had still been deeply unnerving to see someone that looked exactly like her with such murderous rage in her eyes, attempting to slaughter them using Rydia's own eidolons as weapons. There had been nights for several weeks after the encounter that Edge would dream of those eyes, and feel Rydia's thighs wrapped around his waist and her delicate white fingers curled on his throat, crushing his windpipe with a half-smile on her lips. He would wake up from the nightmares gasping for air and dripping in perspiration, thankful that he was isolated in his very own tower of the castle – sometimes, he would hear screams tear through the air for several minutes before realizing they were his own.
He oftentimes mused about what would have happened if he too had fallen for the ruse – if he would have still managed to survive the tower or if it would have finally claimed him, just like it had claimed the desecrated remains of his beloved parents – murdered and reanimated as deplorable chimerae during the war.
Just as he was about to give up and start climbing back down from his secret spot, Edge saw a flash of red light out of the corner of his eye. It had only been for a second – but when he turned his head, he had been able to see the tower's normally ivory façade glow a bright red. It now faded back to the gentle glow he had observed upon waking, unnoticeable to anyone else who had not become as obsessed with the tower as himself in the last seventeen years.
The Tower of Babil is back… Edge frowned. And with the return of the twin moon…I cannot help but surmise there is a connection…an investigation may be in order.
The Underworld, King Giott's Castle, the morning of the moon's return
"Do you really have to tinker with that infernal machine all day again?" King Giott leaned his head against his hand, pouting behind the massive orange beard that obscured three-quarters of his face.
"Yes, Father," Luca sighed, reaching up to slide a pale pink visor through her flaming red bob. She had removed it out of respect for her initial address with the king, but figured she had put in her quota of formality for the day. "I've got to get her ready to pick up Rydia from Mist. I promised to take her to the Feymarch, remember?"
"How could I possibly forget that my only daughter, the heir to the entirety of the Underworld and the most powerful woman in the dwarven kingdom, is playing chauffeur to her little girlfriends?"
"Geeze…" Luca shook her head. "You forget how lucky we are to have an airship, Father – and better yet, someone in your kingdom who actually knows what to do with it! The Falcon would rust away into nothing if you had your way. She's a beauty of a ship – still one of the fastest in the world."
"Oh, things would be a lot more different around here if the ruler of this kingdom actually had his way," Giott huffed. "Go on, then…I know every second that you don't have a wrench your hand is agony. Best get all of this engineering nonsense out of your system now – when you're Queen, you're not going to have time for any of that stuff. You'll have to actually rule a kingdom."
"When I'm Queen, I'm taking the Underworld out of the stone age and into the future," Luca smirked, sticking out her tongue. "Just wait and see!"
She was about to turn and leave on that triumphant note, when she was nearly knocked over by a member of the royal guard that had come bursting in the room. Luckily, Luca was no frail damsel, and merely reached up to adjust her visor as the guard apologized and bowed profusely while stumbling backward toward Giott.
"King Giott! The Tower of Babil! It's…!"
"It's what?" Giott stood from his throne so fast that his massive Viking helmet slid down the front of his forehead, covering the rest of his face that his beard didn't already hide.
"It's glowing…! Or at least, it did for a second! I saw it with my very eyes!"
The Overworld, present day
Ceodore was climbing through filthy, blackened rubble, the soot staining his bare fingers as he threw back slabs of destroyed brick and concrete as effortlessly as one would toss away a pillow. He had summoned the mysterious power that had saved him in the Adamant Isle Grotto, gifting him with inhuman strength that he could see radiating from his flesh in the ethereal moonlight.
At last, he reached the blockaded throne room doors, and forced them open with an ear-splitting bang. As he stumbled inside, the moonlight poured through the decimated cathedral ceilings, shimmering over the two occupied thrones before him.
Cecil and Rosa were collapsed within, their pale faces turned toward each other, eyes closed, their opalescent hair shining in the moonlight and streaked with dust and glittering gravel from the destruction surrounding them.
Rosa's bow-shaped lips were white, a thin trail of ruby-red blood falling from the corner of her mouth and staining the collar of her ivory gown. Her tiara, which Ceodore had only ever seen her wear on special occasions, had been crushed into a twisted mess on the crown of her head in a bed of blackened, sticky blood.
Cecil's hair was nearly covering his entire face, but Ceodore could see the violet bruises that had bloomed upon his neck, with red imprinted patterns crossing between them. His head had fallen against Rosa's, but the only thing holding his body up was the massive pearl-tipped lance that had been thrust into his abdomen, pinning him in place on the throne. Blood had pooled into his lap and spilled long-ago into the rubble below, dyeing it a deep crimson.
"Nooooo!" Ceodore screamed, falling to his knees and pressing his hands to his eyes, as if that would erase the scene before him. "Mother…Father! I…I was too late…"
"Do not mourn for the weak," a cold voice hissed behind him. "Those blessed by the light are the first to fall to the darkness."
Ceodore stifled a sob as he turned his head, seeing nothing. He heard the shuffling of footsteps, and a tall figure obscured in black began to approach through the destroyed threshold Ceodore had climbed through. The harder Ceodore tried to make the person out, the blurrier his vision became – or maybe it was the tears that were relentlessly stinging his eyes.
"This is what you wanted, is it?" the voice taunted, getting louder with each step. "To be free of your father's shadow, to transcend your mother's seemingly boundless grace?"
"No!" Ceodore cried, shaking his head. "I just wanted to make my own way!"
"By denying the very blood that is now spilled before you?" the voice laughed cruelly.
"Sh-show yourself!" Ceodore sniffled. "C-C-Coward!"
There came a flash of black, pulsating light, and Ceodore was tossed into the air, feeling as if his heart was being torn from his chest by an immense gravitational pull. His newfound strength faded as a trail of clouds obscured the moon, plunging him into darkness…
"AHHHH!"
Ceodore shot up, his head throbbing in protest from the sudden motion as his eyes snapped open, the late-afternoon sun blinding him mercilessly.
Wait…the sun? So that was…a dream?
Ceodore tried to find something – anything – to focus his blurry vision on. Unfortunately, the first thing that came into view was the smoking, smoldering remains of their airship – the frame was almost entirely collapsed in on itself, and chunks of broken wood and engine parts were tossed about with abandon. He was in an open field – with nothing but green stretching on for miles and miles.
As his gaze swept over his surroundings, he realized that contorted limbs were sticking out of some of the piles of debris, and none of them were moving. Feeling a dread clench in his chest, Ceodore started to push himself off the ground when his hand brushed over something cold. Looking to his right, he saw Captain Biggs, lying face-down and covered in scorched armor and streaks of blackened blood.
"Ergh…" Ceodore swallowed the lump in his throat, hesitatingly reaching out and shaking Biggs' shoulder. "Captain Biggs!"
There came no response. Ceodore slid onto his knees, and with much effort, attempted to turn Biggs over. His shoulder throbbed painfully as he struggled to lift the heavy man – his injury from falling on the airship before his mission must had been revived, thanks to gods-only-knew how far he had fallen from the sky when they crashed.
"Captain Biggs…!" Ceodore grunted and finally managed to turn him over. Biggs' body flopped back to the ground, his eyes closed and his face streaked with pink, blistering skin. Ceodore tried not to gag, but the smell of burnt flesh had suddenly assaulted his senses. Ceodore held his breath and tried to take a pulse, but felt nothing after a few minutes of trying.
"You put your life on the line for me…" Ceodore shook his head, the tears spilling for what had felt like the hundredth time that day. "If I…if I was more of a soldier…you wouldn't be like this right now…"
He dropped Biggs' wrist, and stood up, realizing that he also had a limp when he attempted to take his first step. Looking down at his right foot, he saw that his ankle was swelled enough that he could see it through the strained leather of his boot. Sighing, he kept moving forward, favoring his good leg as much as he could manage. He didn't even have enough energy to cast a basic healing spell. He needed to either get a proper rest that didn't involve blacking out, or find some sort of spring or potion that would revive him – both options which seemed impossible in that given moment.
Each body that he encountered was as lifeless as the last. When he finally stumbled upon Wedge, who had been thrown furthest from the wreckage and was the last to be accounted for, Ceodore knew right away that his other superior officer was gone – his neck was twisted in a bizarre angle, and he had died with a tortured grimace on his face.
"He's….he's dead…" Ceodore sniffled out loud, his throat starting to burn from all of the smoke he had inhaled. "They're dead…all of them."
He looked up at the sky, which was a beautiful, perfect blue. There were no more monsters circling the heavens, and the only sounds he could hear now were some meadow-dwelling animals that hadn't been scared away by the crash and the gentle whoosh of an early-evening summer breeze.
What am I going to do? Ceodore squeezed his eyes shut. I'm all alone… He tried reaching deep down inside himself once more, trying to find comfort in the warm glow he always felt in his chest when he was scared. He focused all of his concentration on remembering his father's promise to always protect him, even when they weren't together.
But he felt nothing – just the cold, hollow thump of his heart as it beat once, twice, three times.
"Ergh…ugh…"
Ceodore held his breath. What was that?
"Prince Ceodore…you're still alive…aren't you?"
An atrophied voice barely carried to him. Ceodore whirled around, and was shocked to see Biggs' hand twitch slightly. Despite the painful threats being issued by his ankle, Ceodore ran back to Biggs, falling to his hands and knees while leaning over him. The captain had one eye open, and was shakily lifting his hand to his chest.
"Stop talking!" Ceodore cried, relief flooding through him. "I'll go find somebody to help!" He sat up, cupping his hands over his mouth as he started to shout. "HELP! ANYONE!" His throat became raw and angry with the effort, and soon his shouts turned into exhausted bleating.
Biggs groaned, trying to slowly shake his head. "I'm sorry…I wasn't able to get you back to Baron safely…my prince."
Ceodore ceased shouting into the wind and blinked. Had he heard that correctly? "Captain Biggs?"
"You have to hurry away from here…" Biggs choked out a violent cough, and Ceodore paled when he saw the blood droplets appear on his captain's lips.
"I can't do that, Captain Biggs!" Ceodore whispered, the words grinding against his throat like sandpaper. "I…I'm still just a squire! You can't expect me to…I can't do it on my own!"
Biggs slowly opened his other eye, which had become clouded and red with irritation. He must have gotten hurt from the smoke, Ceodore thought sadly, remembering the feeling of someone's strength enveloping him before he had completely lost conscious. …Because he was protecting me!
"Just a squire?" Biggs locked his eyes on Ceodore's, and Ceodore sniffled, but resisted the urge to look away, despite the burning shame on his cheeks from crying in front of the captain. Something in Ceodore's tone had brought Biggs back to when he had been just a squire himself – to his and Wedge's first mission with the Red Wings…
"We are the Red Wings – the pride of Baron! Must we now be thieves, sent to plunder from the weak?"
Biggs was lamenting out loud – but he was being audacious enough to do it in front of his captain, the renowned Dark Knight Lord Cecil. After what he had seen and done in Mysidia…if Biggs didn't say something to someone, he thought he would implode right there on the ship. How could it have been his dream to become a Red Wing if all it meant was murder and thievery? Had he been misled his whole life about what their righteous king – no, what Baron itself had stood for?
"Enough," Cecil growled, although Biggs could tell he gave the order halfheartedly. Biggs looked to his cousin to back him up, and Wedge winced at the glare in Biggs' eyes, ever the peace-keeper even back then. But that dark and terrible day, the injustices they had witnessed compelled even Wedge to speak.
"But, Lord Captain! The Mysidians offered no resistance! And still, we cut them down."
Biggs saw Cecil flinch, even underneath his mountain of ebony armor. It had been the very next day that Cecil had disappeared and King Baron had declared him a traitor – but Biggs knew that something more sinister was afoot. His intuition proved correct, when Cecil had returned to them with allies from all over the world, exposing their king as an impostor – a minion of the sorcerer Golbez.
The past must not repeat itself, Biggs thought, the billowing plumes of black smoke rising from Baron replaying through his mind. Never again must we let Baron roam from the path of virtue – Ceodore must take on King Cecil's mission, if our kingdom has really fallen…The boy must come to realize on his own that this is his fate, no matter how hard he rallies against it.
"Ceodore, listen to me…You must return…to our beloved Baron, no matter the cost. This…is my final order…"
Ceodore pressed his lips together, his fingers nervously tearing into blades of grass beneath him in an effort to distract himself from screaming. He knew what Biggs was trying to say, and he realized it didn't matter how much he cried or what it was that had awakened inside of him in the grotto – nothing was going to change what had happened, and what was happening right now, before his very eyes.
Ceodore stifled a sob. "…Y-yes, sir…!"
"Good…" Biggs turned away, closing his eyes. "…That's what it means to be a knight of the Red Wings…"
"Yes, sir!" Ceodore said, a little louder this time. He could feel his heart pounding relentlessly, punctuating each word that fell from his lips.
"You are the last…of the Red Wings, Ceodore…" Biggs smiled slightly as he thought back to the impassioned speech he made to his own captain, nearly seventeen years ago. Of course, that mission had ended up not being the death of his dream…but rather, just an auspicious start to what had become his greatest assignment ever – protecting his beloved homeland and serving under one of the men he admired most in the world…and even being able to live long enough to mentor his progeny, even if it was only for twenty-four hours.
Biggs rested his fingertips right below his heart, his knuckles raw and bloody from the burns that had consumed him in Ceodore's place. "…We, the Red Wings…are the greatest airship fleet in the skies…the pride of Baron! My orders…are the law…to you…!"
Ceodore nodded even though Biggs could no longer see him, clenching his fists so tightly that his fingernails left crescent moon-shaped dents in his skin. He watched Biggs' fingers slacken as he drew his last breath, the peaceful smile never leaving his lips. Ceodore slowly stood up, bringing his first to his chest and laying it over his heart to mirror Biggs. He bowed his head and allowed his tears to fall for what he vowed to be the final time, hearing their distinct patter as they fell upon Biggs' chest plate, leaving a trail of watery soot in their wake.
"I, Ceodore, of the Red Wings of Baron…will now return to Baron, sir!"
Hours later, Ceodore feared that his parting words to his captain had been nothing more than insolent deception for which he was going to end up burning in hell.
For one thing – the prince had realized that he was completely, hopelessly lost. He had buried his anxiety about exploring the destroyed airship, telling himself that something salvageable could be found and that all of the crew had been (unfortunately) accounted for outside – but all he managed to procure were a few bottles of potion that had miraculously not been destroyed, and a bronze buckler that he could strap on his arm for a meager line of defense against whatever was waiting for him beyond the meadow. There was no sign of a map or a compass, and the scope he had been holding to observe Baron was long-gone as well.
All he could do was force himself to follow the horizon – with the sun setting in the west and Baron also in that direction, it was the only rational decision he felt he could make. But the scenery around him never seemed to change – endless fields of green randomly dotted with bright wildflowers or towering, twisting weeds that snagged his skin with their spines if he came too close made for poor landmarks.
He grimly comforted himself by realizing that even if he had had a map, he wouldn't have known what to do with it – he had no idea what continent he was on.
The second pressing issue was the matter of his injuries. He had reluctantly swallowed down one potion to give himself the strength to climb into the Red Wings' wreckage, but it had barely restored him to a waking state, let alone aid in alleviating the pain volleying between his shoulder and his ankle. He hesitated to use his other precious potions, lest the unthinkable happened and he was attacked by a monster.
Ceodore knew it was a generous assumption that he had made it more than a couple miles away from the crash site, and with darkness threatening to fall with each new step, he would soon either need to find shelter or accept that he would be hiding away the night in his sleeping bag, which had thankfully stayed on his person throughout the entire ordeal.
Mother and Father have to be alive, Ceodore told himself over and over again. They are the strongest people I know…they wouldn't give in to anyone – or any beast – attacking Baron. My dream was just that – not a premonition. No matter how real it felt…
"Grrr…"
Ceodore looked up from where he had been vacantly staring at the grass, his eyes wide with panic. The sounds of random field mice chattering and skittering about that had filled the daytime had been replaced by croaking and the ominous rustling of tall grass. Ceodore watched as a bloom of thistle weed parted a few feet away from him, revealing a Goblin and a Gatlinghog, which appeared to be the bigger, more brightly-colored surface-dwelling cousin of the Sword Rats he had to slay in the Adamant Isle Grotto.
The Goblin snickered and raised his blade, which was chipped in several places but still looked like it would really hurt if one were to be run through with it.
The Gatlinghog let out a threatening hiss, the spikes on its back gleaming even in the failing sunlight as they protruded and aimed right for Ceodore's chest.
"I haven't time for you!" Ceodore snapped, drawing his blade and flinching as he took a threatening step forward, not wanting to give the monsters any indication that he was weakened. With a hard swing, he drove his blade into the Goblin's hip, nearly tearing the little horror in half and spraying the Gatlinghog with its blood. The Gatlinghog hissed louder at this affront, but started to back away, baring its tiny, pointed teeth.
"That's right!" Ceodore smirked. "There's plenty more where that came from!"
A warm, wet rush of air suddenly hit Ceodore's neck, and he frowned, glancing back over his shoulder quickly as to not let the Gatlinghog out of his sight. A broad-limbed, flaming dog was pawing at the ground behind him, turning the grass and weeds underneath its belly black as they sparked with fire and then quickly burnt themselves out, smothered by the lack of oxygen beneath the beast's undercarriage.
"What…!?" Ceodore gasped, stumbling backwards. The Gatlinghog took the opportunity to turn tail and flee through the meadow, now that real threat had revealed itself.
The dog growled and bared its fangs, which glowed like the freshly soldered blades a weapon smith would craft over his forge.
Snapping its jaws at Ceodore, there was another rush of hot air, and a whirlwind of flames surrounded the hapless prince, raining fiery debris upon him and trapping him in a circle of fire.
"No!" he cried, raising his buckler to shield his head and choking on the smoke that was quickly filling his lungs. He shakily reached up, trying to tug his scarf over his mouth with his other hand as his eyes watered. His head began to take on the same star-struck sensation he had felt before the crash – like his brain was melting into itself from the heat. Closing his eyes, he thought of the smoke curling over Baron, and of everyone that was waiting for him to come home. Cecil…Rosa…Cid…Biggs and Wedge…!
I'm a member of the Red Wings…I can't let it end like this!
There was a powerful rush of adrenaline that burst in Ceodore's lungs, rushing through his failing limbs at the speed of light…
"Come on, you bastard…" the man tsked as he clenched his jaw, pulling back slightly harder on the rod and gingerly taking in the reel. The rod started to bend deeply, and with a triumphant leap in the air, the fish freed itself and swam away to sweet freedom.
"Damn!" he sighed, tossing the rod behind him and giving a hard kick to the beach, sending a rush of sand flying. He had never been good at fishing, and could probably count on one hand the number of times he had actually attempted it – but he thought finding the abandoned rod at the beach had been a sign of good fortune. With no money and nothing on him except for the clothes on his back and his blade, he was going to have to hunt his dinner – if there was anything even remotely edible in the meadows across the way. Otherwise, he would need to trek all the way back to the forest, which was not the favorable option with the twilight coming on fast. All he had wanted to do was get some food, finish his business in Mysidia, and be on his way to the horrors that were to come. Was that really too much to ask?
He eyed the fishing rod, wondering how much gil he would get for it if he tried to pawn it off in town. Possibly enough for at least a drink to help lure him to sleep, which was more tempting than he thought was healthy.
As he bent down to retrieve the discarded rod, he saw a blinding flash of light abruptly shoot down from the sky, crashing into the meadow he had just debated hunting in. Furrowing his brow, he stood back up, forgetting about the rod and his aching, empty stomach as he found his feet carrying him toward the disruption.
That resplendent light…I feel like I've seen something like it somewhere before…long, long ago.
He ran from the pebble-ridden beach into the folds of the meadow, drawing his sword and slashing at the unwieldy plants that would hinder his path, lest he lose sight of where the pillar of light had appeared. He was stunned when he came upon a clearing that contained a young man, surely no more than sixteen years old, collapsed to his knees and faintly glowing with the same light he had seen fall from the sky. The man felt an abrupt, unsettling pang in his chest as he searched the boy's face – like he had been forced to remember a painful, but still-cloudy memory. He lifted his hand to his heart for a moment, marveling at how furiously it was hammering against his fingers.
Before the boy was a fully-grown Flamebeast, pawing at the ground in frustration and trying to charge at his prey, only to be continuously beaten back by the light.
But the man could tell the boy was fading fast, and the light surrounding him was growing dimmer with each passing second – it would only be a matter of time before the Flamebeast was successful in breaking through the magical barrier.
Taking a flying leap into the air, the man drove his blade into the Flamebeast's neck from above, severing it from its body with one clean stroke. Before the discarded head could even hit the ground, the monster burst into a pile of dusty ash that mingled with the burned remains of the meadow beneath it.
Straightening himself, the man looked to the boy, who had promptly collapsed face-first onto the ground. The light receded, and he could swear that the boy's hair had changed colors before his eyes – fading from a frosty blue to champagne-tinted platinum. His pale, slender hand began to twitch in the grass.
Ceodore moaned, reaching blindly into his pouch at his hip until he could feel his fingers wrap around the neck of a potion. He pulled it out, pushing himself up by his elbows and tossing it back sloppily, some of the pink liquid splashing down his chin and absorbing into his scarf. Feeling his strength return to him and reveling in the relief that the divine light had brought his injuries, he sat up, taking a better look his savior.
It was a tall man – he might have even been taller than his father – dressed in a faded blue cotton shirt that had been hastily tucked into a taupe leather belt with matching breeches that were pleated into scuffed knee-high leather boots. A lavender cape was wrapped around his shoulders and head as a hood, flowing behind him and dusty and tattered from where it dragged on the ground. Locks of long, corn silk hair were hanging loose over his face, the rest pulled into a messy knot that was hidden behind his neck.
Ceodore could see the man's clear blue eyes searching his, a mixture of bemusement and curiosity shining within. He didn't understand why, but the look on his face reminded him so much of his father that it made his heart ache.
"Still alive?" the man asked with a deep, almost courtly inflection, and Ceodore nodded.
"Yes…Thank you…" He climbed to his feet, but stumbled forward, a head rush washing over him. The hooded man stepped forward, sheathing his sword in one fluid sweep into the scabbard that hung at his slender hip.
"Are you all right? You didn't look completely useless back there, but…taking on a monster like that is suicidal."
"I'll be OK," Ceodore said, flushing slightly. It wasn't like he had wanted to fight the Flamebeast, after all. "I must get back to Baron, no matter the cost."
"With no airship?" the man asked, tilting his head. He had asked it merely out of curiosity, having suspected that the boy was perhaps lost or touched in the head, but Ceodore couldn't help but feel as if he was being interrogated for a trial. He knew he was exhausted, and that he should have been grateful to his savior, but his distress revealed itself in his reply anyway. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking away.
"Yes! Even with no airship! I am a member of the Red Wings of Baron. I don't need an airship to lay claim to that."
"Ah..." the man nodded, as if that explained everything. Ceodore blinked.
"You've heard of them?"
"'Who hasn't heard of them' would be a better question. That's the most famous unit in Baron's military. You'd best be careful if you are to travel without a ship, though. The monsters are restless ever since the trouble..."
Ceodore shook his head, not understanding. He glanced over his shoulder, curiosity getting the better of him. "Trouble?"
The hooded man smiled slightly. "Don't tell me that you don't know. The war that raged across this land, once...back in those times, the monsters were out of control, had finally come into their own, one could say. Ever since they were pushed back into the darkness by the revived light of the crystals, they've been biding their time, waiting for the planet's conditions to favor them once more…this feels just like back then…You're too young to remember, I suppose."
Ceodore frowned. "Yes, I know of what you speak. My mother and father have often told me about it. As for the monsters…" He bit his lip as he thought about the Red Wings; mere miles away in what had become their impromptu grave sites. "…I'm too aware of the havoc they can cause when agitated."
The man looked away thoughtfully, tapping his chin with his finger. He could tell by the anguish in the boy's eyes that he had struck a nerve, and he felt awful for it. There was something painfully raw in the boy's tone that he recognized from having experienced such anguish within himself – something frightful had happened to this boy, and it had been recent.
He says he's a Red Wing, but…really; he's still just a child. He'll never make it to Baron on his own without a ship. Even with that light protecting him…I fear for the worst. Maybe there was a reason why I haven't left this dreadful place yet…perhaps I was meant to see that light…
He had made up his mind – he couldn't leave the boy on his own – to do so would be sentencing him to death. "You know, we can reach Baron from Mysidia, in the west."
Ceodore let out a surprised gasp, turning to fully face the man once again. So…they were near Mysidia – the sacred city of mages. He knew his father had visited there many times, long ago. Quite possibly, Cecil still had friends there as well. It was still far away from home, but…it was at least a location on a map. "Is there a ship there?"
The man shook his head. "Something even better than that. I'm coming along with you."
"Are you sure?" Ceodore asked, although he didn't bother hiding the note of hopefulness that had lifted his voice. I don't want to be alone anymore…even a complete stranger is better than…well, this. I know I should be more careful, but…I can't help it – he reminds me so much of Father...and he saved my life – without even knowing who I was.
And wasn't that what I wanted? For people to see me, and not the Prince of Baron?
The man nodded. "I have business of my own in Baron. Urgent business. I was on my way there when I saw you fighting."
Ceodore smiled. That was good enough for him. "I..." he began to properly introduce himself, but paused, the man watching him patiently.
Ceodore looked down at his feet. No, perhaps he shouldn't be so quick to reveal his true identity…there had been a reason Baron had been attacked, after all, even if he didn't understand what it was yet. It would have to be enough for now to remain as just a Red Wing and not as a member of the royal family. Finally, Ceodore stuck out his hand, and offered a smile. "My name is Ceodore. And you are...?"
The hooded man shook his head dismissively, but still took Ceodore's hand, grasping it tightly. "I don't have a name...I abandoned it long ago." He dropped the boy's hand and blew a lock of hair away that had fallen into his eyes.
"Huh?" Ceodore blinked. "What…what am I supposed to call you, then?"
"I will answer to most anything," he said. "In a pinch, 'Hey you' will suffice. Weren't you in a hurry just now?"
Ceodore sighed. He was right, of course. This was no time for semantics, although with the way the day had been going, it would have been nice to be sure of at least one thing, even if it was as minor as knowing your rescuer's name.
The hooded man gestured for Ceodore to follow him, and Ceodore realized as they left the clearing that he could pick up the distinct taste of salt in the air. Moments later, they were at a small beach, and the hooded man was swiping an old fishing pole that had been abandoned in the sand.
"Are we catching dinner?" Ceodore asked hopefully, realizing that his stomach had begun to knot with hunger pangs. It had been the first time tonight that he hadn't had to think about either being lost or getting killed, which meant he could now focus on how hungry and thirsty he was. If he had been back home, he probably would have been sitting down to a massive banquet by now, thrown in his honor (much to his embarrassment). His father, who had never been good with handling his spirits, would probably be laughing drunkenly as Wedge told the table how much Ceodore was or wasn't like Cecil when he had taken his own trial, and his mother would be hugging him and fussing with his unruly hair every five minutes, her anger vanished about Ceodore's reckless decision to recruit now that he had come home to her a true knight. Cid would ask Ceodore about the most important details of the mission – how were the Red Wings running? Did he notice any slowdown or rust? Did he need to tune up any of the ships?
Ceodore would have been miserable the entire time – but at that moment, he realized he would have given anything in the world to go back to that old life.
"Unless you're any good at using this thing, then no," the man replied, interrupting Ceodore's daydream. Ceodore pouted, his stomach rumbling in protest. He had never picked up a fishing pole in his life…seemed like weird hobby for a prince to have…but he supposed the man had no way of knowing that, after all…
The man swung the pole over his shoulder. "If you're hungry, we'll sell it in town and get something to eat."
"I'm starving," Ceodore admitted. "But I'm sorry to say I don't have any money…"
"We'll manage, don't worry," his companion replied. "Come – Mysidia is just a few minutes' walk from here."
They walked to the village gates in silence, Ceodore taking in every detail he could about their surroundings before the darkness became too great for him to see. He was amazed at how even the air of this continent had felt so different from Baron's – Baron had always smelled earthy and sweet, especially after a long rain, due to the heavy forestry surrounding the village and the lakes that dotted the countryside leading up to the Mist Caverns. The Mysidia region smelled salty and clean, with the drifting scent of wildflowers from the meadows carrying over to them thanks to the near-constant sea breeze. Now that the sun had set, the air had turned deliciously cold, the kind of temperature that was perfect for sleeping with the windows open – weather of which Baron only had a short period of in early Spring and early Fall.
As they crossed the gates to officially enter Mysidia proper, which were thrown wide-open and lit with dazzling iron lanterns, Ceodore couldn't help but marvel at the villagers still bustling about in the streets this late in the evening – nearly all of them were dressed in the traditional garb of black and white mages. It wasn't like the streets of Baron, where most folk weren't magically inclined and the rare appearance of a mage outside the castle sent everyone into an excited tizzy. The town's atmosphere was alight with that indescribable vitality that crackled in the air whenever powerful magicians were in the same vicinity together. Ceodore would feel that same energy whenever he entered one of the magic labs in Baron Castle, and sometimes even when he would watch his mother cast spells of her own – the abundance of spiritual energy that would envelope her in an ethereal aura was itself a miracle to behold – even Ceodore could understand why his father seemed to fall in love with her all over again when she cast something as simple as a Cure spell.
The hooded man paused as they crossed onto the main drag of the village, pointing ahead of them. "The Hall of Prayer is at the north end of the town. When we're ready, someone there can break the seal for us."
"The seal?"
"Yes...the seal blocking the way to the Devil's Road."
The Devil's Road… Ceodore chewed on his lower lip. …Doesn't exactly sound better than an airship.
The man looked over at Ceodore, smiling a little. "Do not fear. You'll feel better about it after we have something to eat. Let me see what I can get for this." He held up the rod, and gestured toward the sundries shop a few yards away from them. While he went inside to strike a deal, Ceodore waited outside the shop, leaning back against the cool brick wall and gazing up at the sky. A swath of clouds had rolled in, blocking most of the moon's light, as well as many of the stars. Ceodore thought that despite the cover, the waning moon seemed bigger and brighter than usual.
A pair of black mages was coming out of the pub to Ceodore's left, talking louder than one normally would – Ceodore suspected that they had had their fill of drink for the night and were heading home to sleep it off.
"What do you think that tremendous sound was that came from the east?" one of them hiccuped. "It was so loud; I thought we were having an earthquake."
"I thought maybe I had had too much to drink. Maybe it was that swarm of monsters that were flying northwest – that's where Baron is, right?"
"You couldn't pay me to go to Baron right now – this is all a little too sinister to me. Thank the gods the Elder had the foresight to seal the Devil's Road once again – hic!"
Ceodore's ears perked up. He was considering following the mages to see if they would say anything else of interest, when a voice spoke up behind him, making him jump two feet in the air in surprise.
"I had heard that sound as well while I was making my way to Mysidia… it's the hot gossip of the day here. Did you happen hear it while you were wandering around?"
Ceodore whirled around, coming face-to-face with the hooded man. The fishing pole was gone, but had been replaced in his hand by a small sack of gil.
"Um…" Ceodore looked away. "Yes, I heard it..." He tried to change the subject – he wasn't ready to talk about the Red Wings yet. "But did you hear what they said about the Devil's Road…? Why would they seal it so suddenly? Do they think that Baron will be overrun with monsters and that they'll come here…?"
The hooded man frowned. Ceodore's voice had started to shake as he spoke, and he could see that his young companion was becoming nervous. The discord in Ceodore's heart would do him no good on the Devil's Road – he needed to find a way to calm him down.
"Baron is one of the most powerful countries in the world," the man offered. "And its rulers are two warriors who once saved the world from the brink of disaster. As a member of the Red Wings, you should know better than anyone that Baron wouldn't fall so easily. However, it doesn't surprise me that the Elder would take precautions to protect his people if rumors are running rampant that something has happened on the other side of the Devil's Road – wouldn't you do the same?"
"I…" Ceodore sighed. "I guess I would do the same. I would protect my people no matter what, if I were in his shoes."
"Of course you would," the man nodded. "That's why you're a knight, after all. Now, I've managed to get us enough money for a decent dinner – let's get something in our stomachs, and see if we can get any more information before going to the Tower of Prayer."
Ceodore nodded, and followed the man inside the pub next door. Compared to the relative peace outside, the pub was jostling with activity, tables filled with yet more mages eating and drinking their way through the menu, with others playing games with stacks of gil of varying sizes in front of each participant. They found a two-top table stashed away in a corner, and quickly took their seats before someone could snag it from underneath their noses. Dim candlelight was all they had to read the sparse menu by, but Ceodore just let his companion do the ordering – he had no idea how much money they actually had, and he realized with dismay that he didn't recognize most of the items on the menu anyway. Never in Ceodore's life had he ever needed to think about eating a meal outside of Baron and what that would be like. He supposed that would have eventually changed when he joined the Red Wings, but…there would probably never be another mission for him to go on after this…
After their order had been placed, the hooded man leaned back in his chair, and Ceodore realized that he was trying to listen in on the conversation that was occurring next to them. A group of three mages were sitting together, nursing glasses of mead that were as big as their heads. Ceodore leaned his cheek against his hand, pretending to stare at the flickering candlelight as he tried to hone in on the conversation as well.
"Did you notice the sky before the clouds came in tonight? There's two moons up there again…no warning whatsoever…"
"And of course it had to happen while Lord Palom was gone…not that I think he would have actually done anything about it, but…the Elder would have made him take some sort of action. Where did he go, anyway?"
"I heard Palom was dispatched to Troia, the little scamp! Ugh, I couldn't be more envious of him if I tried…that town is packed with beauties!"
There was a sigh of dismay from the one female mage in the group, and the others tittered. Ceodore's eyes met the hooded man's, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing.
Two moons?
Ceodore had known that their planet had once had two moons before he was born – the lecture he had received from the pig in Mythril about the disappearing moon was not new information to him. His own parents, along with their best friend Kain, who disappeared shortly after the war had ended, a summoner named Rydia, and the then-Prince of Eblan, Edge Geraldine, had traveled to that very moon to defeat the Lunarian that was threatening to destroy human life on their planet so that he could take it for his own. His name had been Zemus – and Cecil had told Ceodore that he was a Lunarian who had not wanted to sleep and wait for evolution's due course to live among the people of the Blue Planet – he thought himself a superior being and had done many terrible things in attempt to conquer their home. Zemus had also been the master of the sorcerer Golbez, a citizen of the Blue Planet who had been brainwashed into executing the critical spokes of his plan, including stealing the eight crystals of the Blue Planet and using them to open a pathway to the moon so that Zemus could unleash weapons of mass destruction upon their planet and attempt mass genocide.
Cecil and Rosa never talked about Golbez much, but Ceodore had heard through rumors from others who were more apt to gossip that Golbez had been Cecil's nemesis, and that he had put Cecil and Rosa through immense physical and mental anguish during the war. Ceodore supposed it had to have been really awful if his parents couldn't even speak of it, and he respected them too deeply to ever ask. It was all in the past, and he felt as if there were no point to making his parents relive it, no matter how intense his curiosity was at times.
After Cecil, Rosa, Kain, Rydia and Edge had come home, victorious – the moon had mysteriously left the planet's orbit, never to be seen again. Ceodore had never had much interest in the moon – not even after his father had revealed their own Lunarian heritage to him as a young child – but he would often catch Cecil gazing dreamily in the nighttime sky, as if he were looking for something – or someone, lost to him forever. Ceodore knew during those moments, his father's body may have been on their planet, but his mind was light years away – possibly back on that very moon with his people.
Most citizens of the Blue Planet did not know the true purpose of the moon – that it housed Cecil and Ceodore's sleeping, peaceful Lunarian ancestors – but since it had disappeared when the war had ended, and had been the home base of Zemus, most people now associated it with a bad omen when they told stories of it. That was why it had come to no surprise to Ceodore and the hooded man that the return of a twin moon had inspired panic among their fellow diners.
But had the Lunarians really returned…? It seemed rather unlikely that humans had evolved enough to match the Lunarians after a scant seventeen years…and Zemus was gone forever…right?
"If something were to happen, Porom would protect us," the woman mage continued. "It may not seem like it since she does not know black magic, but it is better that she is here, rather than that brother of hers – she's much more level-headed and sane."
"And if we needed muscle, we could always call upon that dragoon that is rumored to be holed up in Mount Ordeals," one of her companions added. "That is, if anyone was daring enough to climb Mount Ordeals to see if he was real or not."
"I'm sure that rumor was started to see just how idiotic some people are," the woman huffed. "Anyone who has half a brain knows Mount Ordeals is a death sentence. No one – not even a dragoon – could survive. Palom and Porom were only spared because they were with the light's chosen one. Had they been by themselves, I fear they would have been lost to us as children. I still cannot believe, even all this time later, that the Elder deemed it appropriate for them to go."
They started veering into gossip about other villagers, and Ceodore and the hooded man lost interest. Their food arrived, and they ate and drank silently, both contemplating about what they had heard.
The return of a second moon…monsters attacking Baron…and the destruction of the Red Wings…there must be a common thread that ties these events together…but what is it? And how are my parents involved?
It cannot be a coincidence that the twin moon has returned to us the same night I saw that divine light shine from the sky…and certainly more so with battle I fought the other day…something is in motion that I cannot yet comprehend…still, I must get to Baron, at any cost. I fear I will not be my assailant's final victim…
The hooded man stole a glance at Ceodore, who hadn't noticed anything amiss – he was too busy draining his glass of water.
And just what was that power Ceodore displayed before…? It didn't look like any magic I've ever seen…There was something strangely familiar about him when he was bathed in that light…familiar, and sorrowful…
When they finished eating, the hooded man paid their tab, leaving the entirety of the sack of gil on the table. As they exited to make their way to the Tower of Prayer, Ceodore let out a sigh of contentment.
"Thank you so much…I don't think food has ever tasted that good before."
"It was my pleasure," the man replied. "I'd forgotten how quickly a teenage boy can eat…that entertainment alone was worth the price of admission." Ceodore laughed and rubbed the back of his head with some embarrassment. He supposed he had been a little uncouth, practically tilting his entire plate into his mouth once it had appeared before him. It wasn't very princely, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Well, I am fifteen. But I'm not that rude all the time – I promise! And when we get to Baron, I'll pay you back doubly for the meal. You have my word."
"Fifteen, and already a Red Wing?" the hooded man raised his eyebrows. "You really must be something special."
Ceodore's face suddenly fell, and he looked away, much to the man's surprise.
"No…I'm not…"
At the Tower of Prayer, they were greeted by a white mage who was lighting the torches by the entryway when they arrived. She looked up at them, and did not bother hiding her distaste when she saw that neither of the visitors were fellow mages.
"Are you lost?" she asked, and Ceodore flushed.
"No…is there anyone here who can help us unseal the Devil's Road?"
The white mage raised her eyebrows, trying not to laugh.
"My child…the Devil's Road is a path that transcends dimensions...and puts you face to face with evil itself. Those who dare to set foot in it must be prepared to pay the ultimate price for their courage. You are inquiring about THAT Devil's Road?"
"Yes," Ceodore said through gritted teeth. "Can someone here help me, or not?"
She shrugged, but stepped aside to let them through the carved marble double doors. "I don't know if anyone WILL help you, but you can certainly try. Have a good night."
Ceodore pushed the doors open without another word, and stomped inside. The hooded man nodded to the white mage, who blushed slightly as she watched him shut the doors behind them.
Ceodore found himself in a brightly lit great hall, with a hallway to his left that appeared to lead to a classroom set-up, with several desks and chairs scattered about, and numerous blackboards lined up against the wall. Some smudged with lessons that had been erased and others filled from top to bottom with long strings of words and phrases that Ceodore couldn't even read. To their right, another hall split off into what looked like a dormitory – and there was at least one person in bed, being tended to by another white mage. Ceodore could hear them talking quietly, their voices carrying down to the otherwise empty audience chamber. Above them, several crystal chandeliers were weighed down with lighted candles that made rainbow prisms dance across the pale ivory sandstone walls.
The hooded man nodded toward the classroom. "I'm going to take a look over there. Why don't you talk to the white mage? You seem to have a way with them."
Ceodore made a face – was that sarcasm? – And approached the young woman, who looked up at him with much kinder eyes than the other white mage who had greeted him. She pulled the blankets over her charge in the bed, and pressed a finger to her lips.
"The Elder's health has been taking a turn for the worse...It would be greatly appreciated if you could keep it quiet. We can talk in the hall if you have a question."
The man in the bed, presumably the Elder, suddenly opened his eyes, and let out a strained gasp when they fell upon Ceodore.
"Oh...it's you, Ceodore...You've grown into such a fine man."
Ceodore blinked. If he were being perfectly honest, he couldn't precisely remember the man before him. He thought that perhaps once, long ago, an older man with a similar pointed chin and a long, gray and braided beard had visited Baron from Mysidia and met him while he was visiting with Cecil and Rosa. But the man before him's hair was as white as snow, his beard trimmed to just below his chin, and he looked as if he had aged one-hundred years. His cheeks were frightfully gaunt, and his skin so pale that Ceodore could see the tiny traces of blue veins running beneath.
"Elder…you once visited Baron with Palom and Porom, right?" Ceodore asked hesitantly. "Are you sick, sir?"
The Elder nodded, but tried to smile, although he wasn't very successful. "Me? Oh, don't worry. I'm not that quite bad yet...I am more concerned about you."
Ceodore had an involuntary shiver, even though it was blazing warm in the dormitory. "What do you mean, Elder?"
The Elder sighed, closing his eyes – as if he had to summon all of his energy just to speak. "Please, please be careful...I have heard the moon is two once more...You must hurry to Cecil's side! That is why you are here, right?"
Ceodore bit down on his lip. "…Is something wrong with my father?"
The Elder began to cough so loudly that Ceodore could hear a rattle in his throat as he inhaled, gasping for breath. Frightened, he looked to the white mage, who was already jumping into action – she had grabbed a glass of ice water from a tray nearby, and was tilting it to the Elder's lips as she murmured a healing spell. She looked up at Ceodore with a sad smile, and shook her head, which he knew was her way of gently dismissing him.
Ceodore turned away, trying to banish the tears that were creeping into the corners of his eyes. I told myself I wouldn't cry anymore…that I shed my last tears for Biggs! The Elder will be OK…my parents are OK...I just have to keep telling myself that…!
He and the hooded man met back in the great hall, both shaking their heads to indicate their lack of findings. There came the sound of gentle footsteps, and a young woman appeared before them on the stairwell that was to their north. She looked surprised at the two visitors, slowing her advance as Ceodore noticed her grasping the railing a little tighter in her jewel-adorned fingers.
She had light pink hair that was swept into a high ponytail that hung mid-way past her shoulders. She wore a pink transparent romper that came down to her thighs, her shoulders wrapped in a white cloak and maroon bracers running up her wrists and forearms. Pink and rose-striped leggings ran up the length of her legs, and matching pink leather sandals that laced around her ankles clicked down the final steps as she paused in front of Ceodore and the hooded man, having now reached the great hall.
Ceodore could feel his cheeks flushing to match the new arrival's hair, clothes – well, everything. She was gorgeous – and her bright brown eyes were focused directly on this, her red mouth set in a dubious line. Ceodore cleared his throat. "Um...pardon me. Is there anyone here who can unseal the Devil's Road for us?"
The woman blinked, reaching up and unconsciously playing with an emerald earring that was dangling from her lobe. "Someone who knows of the Devil's Road? Who are you?"
"I am Ceodore, of the Red Wings of Baron."
The woman broke out into an unexpected smile – it was like the sun had risen upon her face. She did a little jump, and threw her arms around Ceodore, pulling him tightly against her. Ceodore could feel his body temperature reach a fever-pitch as his face was forced to nuzzle into her neck, as smooth and delightful as it was. "It's you! Heavens, you've certainly grown, haven't you?"
Ceodore squirmed awkwardly, wondering what to do with his hands. Finally, he settled on resting them precariously on the middle of her back, blushing deeper as they brushed her silky ponytail. "You...know me?"
Behind him, he could swear he heard the hooded man snicker.
The woman pulled back, giggling. Ceodore dropped his hands to his sides, a cool wave of relief washing over him even as his body simultaneously longed to hug her again. "Of course you don't remember me. We haven't met since you were a very, very young child."
Ceodore blinked. "So you are...?"
"I am Porom, white mage of Mysidia." She gave a curtsy, and the light bulb went off in Ceodore's frazzled brain. Ding!
"You're Porom? My parents have told me so much about you. I seem to remember your hair being a different color…I'm sorry I didn't recognize you earlier. I can't believe someone as famous as you even remembers me."
Porom blushed, waving her hand embarrassedly. "The hair…well, it's a long story. Something perhaps to share another day."
The hooded man cocked an eyebrow. Ceodore must have had friends in high places if he had once met the twin prodigies of Mysidia. Or perhaps he had trained with them at one point – he knew that Palom, and his twin sister Porom, traveled all over the world by request to work with students of magic. They were Mysidia's most famous citizens, after all, and their skills were in high-demand. Baron had always taken pride in their magical defense and offense capabilities – it would not have been unusual for the twins to be there at some point to give a lesson if a rich enough noble family wanted to pay for the privilege.
Porom rested her hand on her hip. "So why do you want to use the Devil's Road? You said you were with the Red Wings. Did you not come here by airship?"
Ceodore lowered his head. He had anticipated that this question was probably going to come up – he couldn't dance around it with Porom as he had with the hooded man. If he wanted to travel the Devil's Road, he would have to come clean about what had happened to him. Besides…Porom was his father's friend – and had even been an ally that traveled with him as a child. Ceodore realized that because of that very fact, he felt he could trust her with the truth. He tried to control the tremor in his voice as he replied.
"My airship was brought down...by a horde of monsters. Before we crashed, we saw smoke coming from Baron's direction…that's why I have to get home as soon as possible…"
The hooded man brought his hand to his mouth, in attempt to mask his surprise. So that had been why Ceodore was in such rough shape when he found him…to survive an incident such as that, and all alone…was he forced to watch his entire crew die?
Porom frowned, shaking her head. "I knew it...That would explain the unease I've been feeling lately. Ceodore…I am so sorry."
"Will you help us?" Ceodore asked quietly. Porom reached out and gently brushed aside some of Ceodore's dirty, matted hair. The way her fingers stroked him had an almost maternal air…Ceodore's stomach clenched as he thought about his own mother. What was she doing right now? Was she safe? He knew his father would protect her, but…who was protecting him?
"Of course I'll help you, dear. But if I may be frank, you look exhausted. I must warn you, the pathway wasn't named the Devil's Road for humor's sake. It'll be a rough road to plow by yourselves, I fear, especially in your current condition. I want you to rest here for the night and regain your strength. I will find someone that can help guide you two tomorrow, and you can leave right at dawn."
"You can't come with us?" Ceodore warily asked. He hated how he sounded like such a child, but having one of the most powerful white mages in the world at their side would have been a boon and would get them to Baron that much faster.
"I'd go with you, but I can't leave the Hall of Prayer empty right now – not with the Elder not feeling his best." Porom's lips twisted in disappointment as she embraced Ceodore again, but this time, he simply fell into it – it was as if Porom's spoken observation made him realize just how tired he really was – he was simply too drained to be embarrassed anymore. "I know you're in a hurry – but I assure you, if you try to make it to Baron like this, you'll just be slowed down, or worse, get hurt. Will you and your...friend stay in the tower tonight?" Porom glanced up at the hooded man as she asked, and he just smiled in reply. "There are a few beds in the upper spire we can spare."
"I think it's a good idea, Ceodore," the man said gently, and Ceodore just nodded into Porom's chest.
"Wonderful," Porom smiled, and patted Ceodore's shoulder. "If you go up these stairs, you'll pass through the crystal chamber and find a door behind the dais. There will be some rooms in there that you can sleep in. If you continue up the stairs, you'll be taken to the room of prayer. Let's meet back in the great hall tomorrow morning when you are ready to go, all right?"
"Thank you," Ceodore nodded, and pulled away. "Good night, Porom."
"Good night, Ceodore." She watched as Ceodore climbed up the stairs behind her and disappeared. Turning to the hooded man, she tilted her head and pursed her lips. "I'm sorry, we were never properly introduced. And you would be...?"
He shrugged. "No one you know, I don't think. Thank you for helping Ceodore. I'll ensure that he makes safe passage tomorrow."
"Oh, well…" Porom blinked, but her instincts told her to just let it go. If Ceodore trusted him, then she supposed it was none of her business. "…Goodnight, then."
"Tick…tock…tick…tock…"
Ceodore turned to his other side for what felt like the millionth time that night, and opened his eyes. Try as he might, he simply could not get back to sleep. A troubling nightmare that he couldn't recall the details of had shaken him awake, and now even the ancient clock in the corner of the room sounded so loud that he expected the bed to shake with each passing stroke of the clock's hands. Outside the window, he could see that the world was still immersed in the darkness of night. Sitting up, he swung his legs out of the bed and shuffled outside in his leggings and tunic, not taking note of the empty bed across from him.
Ceodore climbed the stairs in the hall that Porom had said led to the room of prayer. As he neared the top, he overheard the conversations of two mages that were ensconced inside, and paused before he reached the threshold. His footsteps had been so light thanks to his bare feet that they didn't notice anyone had arrived.
"The second moon's return…it portends ominous things."
"This moon seems remarkably different from the one before. What could it all mean?"
"I caught Lady Porom crying tonight in her room…before the two visitors arrived. I think she wishes Palom were here right now with this harbinger anew…"
"I thought perhaps she was still mad that she was not the one chosen to go…It's hard to understand what the Elder is thinking these days, isn't it? But still, she doesn't say anything…she just keeps cheerfully accepting her duties…"
Porom… Ceodore bit down on his lip, thinking about the look on her face when she had told Ceodore she couldn't come to Baron with them.
…I could learn a lot from you. I thought becoming a Red Wing meant I could stand on my own two feet…but I couldn't even make it to Mysidia without the aid of a stranger. You are far stronger than I to accept your burdens alone…
Turning around silently, Ceodore abandoned his plan to pray in the tower, and instead went back downstairs, passing the room Porom had given them to sleep in, and entering the crystal chamber.
Shining high above the mirrored floors and walls was the radiant blue jewel known the world over as the Crystal of Water. One of eight crystals that served the Blue Planet, it had been guarded by the Mysidians for centuries until one fateful day seventeen years ago, when Cecil Harvey of Baron had forced his way into the chamber along with the Red Wings, and stolen it at the then-King of Baron's command.
"That was the day the war had started for me," Cecil had told Ceodore on one nondescript day. "I was a coward, and accepted my mission without thought for the consequences until it was too late – the blood had already been spilled, and the lives lost could not be reclaimed. I swore that I would never let myself be complicit in such evil again…if I did…I knew I would surely lose what was left of my very soul…"
"What were you thinking when the light of the crystal first shone upon you, father…?" Ceodore whispered to himself. He watched his distorted reflection glimmer back at him as the crystal slowly rotated in place, like a tiny planet. "Because right now…all I feel is pure terror…"
"Ceodore? Is that you?"
Ceodore jumped, startled by the unexpected voice. His travel companion stepped forward from where he had been standing at the crystal dais. He had been so still that Ceodore had not even noticed him. His hood had been dropped around his shoulders, and his hair was half pulled away in the knot at his neck, half hanging down the side of his face. Ceodore realized with a start that despite the crystal being right there, he could see no reflection of its light in the man's despondent blue eyes.
"Sorry… I didn't realize anyone was in here. I couldn't sleep…"
"Nor could I," the man replied. "I thought it would do me some good to pray to the crystal…it's been so long, I had almost forgotten what one looked like…"
"You do not come from a kingdom that houses a crystal?" Ceodore asked slowly. He thought perhaps he could get even the slightest hint of where the man was from…
"No…much like you, I suppose," the man smiled as if to punctuate his thought, and Ceodore realized he was not going to elaborate any further.
"This is my first time ever seeing one," Ceodore added. "I guess I thought it would feel…different."
"Ah," the man nodded. "Well…there are some that say the crystals reflect what is in man's heart. And if I could hazard a guess right now, I'd say what you're feeling right now is…something akin to fear, correct?"
Ceodore drew in a sharp breath, which was all the response the hooded man needed. He gazed up at the crystal once more, crossing his arms over his chest, and Ceodore saw the same look in his eyes that he would catch in Cecil's whenever his father would steal a glance at the moon…his heart had left the crystal chamber, and had been transported somewhere far, far away. After what felt like hours, the man broke from his reverie, and gave Ceodore a bereaved smile.
"Do not think yourself so transparent, Ceodore. I only knew that because right now, that is what I feel too."
