Crusader's Run

by Soraya21

This is a retelling of the series Final Fantasy IV that will include elements of both the original release and the DS remake.

4. Attachments

As usual, kudos go out to Dr. Facer for taking the time to iron out the wrinkles for this chapter.

On a separate note, I just now realized that the Document Manager format took away the rows of asterisks that I use to signify time passing and/or change of POV, which means all my chapters up until now had no breaks in them. This idiotic formatting also limits punctuation marks to only 1, meaning any additional ! or ? in a row that I may want to use for emphasis will be automatically taken away. So for those who have been keeping track and reading my story, so sorry for the inconvenience and extra points for those of you who've managed to grit back and read through those giant blobs of text without getting lost in them.

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"Cecil..?"

Not realizing he had stopped walking, the dark knight blinks and looks a few paces ahead to find Rydia looking back at him, her face a bit unsure as she asks, "Do you need help with some of that stuff?"

His discomfort weighing heavy, Cecil takes some time to readjust the large sack on his back before replying, "It's fine. Carrying only this much is easy enough."

The dark knight strides on as if to prove the point and Rydia promptly follows. Indeed, he has little difficulty with the extra load on his shoulders for something else is causing him to strain. He fingers the flat bulge of his tunic, tracing over the small item inside his front pocket.

Contained within is the voucher's badge he had received from Marie yesterday. With it, he was free to purchase anything from the marketplace and the unpaid bills would be directly credited towards the inn's tab. All the dark knight had to do was flash the badge and the vendors gladly handed him whatever goods he wanted, no questions asked. Despite being a new face around town, they trusted him after only a single day, never suspecting the recent supplies bought were for his own selfish gains...

"So we're almost done, right?" Rydia questions while looking up from besides him.

A long, decisive pause, then Cecil takes out the badge and rips it apart with both hands, watching as the scattered pieces fall victim to the wind, "Yeah... just one last stop to make."

They continue walking down the road and soon enough arrive in front of a place called Fuu Liten, the largest store within the shopping district of Kaipo. The dark knight can tell from the extravagant outside decor that business was prosperous. He had passed by here frequently while running errands for the inn, yet he could never bring himself to actually step inside and complete a task he knew needed to be done. That is until now.

An overhead bell sounds upon their entrance and he notices Rydia's eyes brighten in fascination at the huge variety of commodities that fill the long sections and shelves of the store. From handy tools and medicines to fine armory to elegant cloths and dazzling jewelry, just about everything can be found here.

A short, potty man from behind the corner counter looks from across the room and leisurely makes his way towards them, his beady eyes betraying the disarming smile across his face as he greets, "Ah, welcome. Just what can I do for you today, stranger?"

Cecil takes a brief glance to his right and sees Rydia absently walking on, going further into the shop as she continues to browse its contents with open wonder.

"It's just as well," the dark knight thinks. It'll be a bit easier on him if she's not around to see this. He turns to the merchant, "I'm looking to make a trade."

"Oh really?" the salesman inquires. Cecil sedately reaches into his inner folds and pulls out the same black box he's been carrying with him ever since he left castle Baron. With a flick of his finger, the lid pops open and reveals a gorgeous engagement ring, the same one he planned for so long to offer to Rosa. The merchant takes the ring out and brings it up, twisting and turning it to the light, "Quite the fancy trinket you have here. This gemstone... sapphire is it? A stellar blue hue like this can only come from the mines of Mythril. It's optimally cut with an attractive design, even the band is fully ornamented. So you're willing to sell this lovely piece?"

The dark knight gives a dim nod and the merchant's eyes narrow in deep thought. Then, he brashly states, "I'll give you 35,500 Gil for it."

Cecil's face instantly darkens, "You can't be serious..! If you can discern so much from a mere glance, then it's impossible for you to be ignorant of the ring's true value."

With a knowing smirk, the merchant replies, "I'm very much aware. However, my price still stands and isn't up for bargaining. Take it or leave it."

"If those are my choices then it's obviously clear," Cecil responds as he snatches the ring back and marches down the store to fetch Rydia. However, the merchant's sly voice follows after him.

"Of course. Feel free to peddle your wares someplace else, stranger, but I think we both know you'll be back here sure enough. Not to be boastful, but my quaint little shop is the most successful you'll find within the trading circle of Kaipo. None of the local vendors will even come close to matching my opening offer. And while there are traveling merchants who may have the necessary funds for a fairer trade... well, unlucky for you, no one has come to do business here as of late, not since recent migration troubles have begun cropping up," the merchant needlessly explains and Cecil pauses, already aware of these issues as well as another, more serious problem the salesman had addressed: transportation.

The dark knight had been relying on the established hovercraft route to traverse the desert, that is until he had heard about the town's situation. He tried gathering info from the locals yet they remained just as unaware, or to be more precise, uninformed of the details. It's not surprising really, because if rumors regarding the barricaded underground footpath are true, that would mean all forms of travel and communications between Kaipo and Damcyan are effectively cut off.

Having given enough time for his words to sink in, the merchant nonchalantly adds, "I'd also imagine it's in your best interest to decide quickly... Wouldn't want to risk causing an unnecessary scene, now would we?"

"... What would you know about that?" Cecil questions evenly.

The merchant replies with a mild shrug of his shoulders, "Just a few things you overhear from the grapevine. We live in a small town, stranger, so word travels real fast around these parts."

The dark knight falls silent; he was afraid something like this might happen. Since early childhood, he has always been the object of various stares due to his white hair and unearthly light complexion. But Rydia has even more vibrant, striking features which actively capture the eyes of all those around, and the two together make for an unmistakable pair amidst any crowd. He should have realized that news of them as well as yesterday's disturbance would spread like wildfire within this remote, peaceful town.

"So, what exactly are you scheming? Do you have designs on turning us in?"

The merchant dramatically throws his hands up in front of himself, "Surely not! But as a law-binding citizen, it's my duty to cooperate with the proper authorities should they happen upon my doorstep, you understand? Although with the right incentive, I can be persuaded to... neglect, the more colorful details regarding my patrons' illustrious background."

Unamused by his theatrics, the dark knight clarifies, "Speaking frankly, you'll overlook us if I accept your offer. A deal which amounts to little more than barely concealed bribery."

"Wherever did you learn such foul terms? But if you want to be direct about it, then yes," the merchant says with a grotty grin, "The allure of riches can make even the most upstanding men forget themselves after all. So it's only natural if I too fell victim to such selective memory loss."

His mouth thinning, Cecil seriously considers just leaving on principle regardless of the consequences. However, perhaps sensing the change in mood, the merchant smoothly shifts his sales pitch.

"Well, if you're having second thoughts about parting with such fine jewelry, then I do have something else in mind," he says while his gaze lowers, analyzing the weapon at Cecil's side, "Your sword... it's military-issued, forged from the furnaces of Baron, correct? A regular of mine happens to be an esteemed weapons' collector who pays handsomely for quality brands found within my inventory, and that blade will surely meet his satisfaction. Why, I'll be willing to go as high as 22,000 Gil for it. A generous offer, wouldn't you agree?"

Cecil looks down, removes the sheathe sword from his belt and holds it by the scabbard in his left hand. The merchant is right of course. Despite its slightly-worn edge, he's willing to pay a price roughly equivalent to that of a blacksmith's commission fee. It's unlikely the dark knight can acquire a better deal anywhere else, and the amount will be enough to cover all the expenses he has incurred. Most of all, he wouldn't have to sell the ring: the treasure he holds most dear.

He continues staring at the sword's distinguished hilt. His former status and power, the national recognition of his lordly caliber, and most of all the bestowed honor of having served the kingdom and his king, everything he ever was is embedded into this sword. But the decorated hilt, those pretty and petty things like titles and glorified deeds, can't wipe clean a blade polished with immoral death and suffering. There's nothing more he wanted than to cast his weapon, the symbol of Baron's pride, aside and be rid of it forever.

"So why can't I..?"

Between the cross-guards of his sword, Cecil's focus involuntarily falls beyond the blade and happens upon the small figure of his ward. Still in the midst of browsing, Rydia stops upon catching his gaze from far across the room and returns it with a perplexed look.

His eyes lower as a scoff escapes his mouth, thinking to himself how foolish he's being; just what is he doing? It's too late now for take-backs or regrets: his choice already made what feels like a lifetime ago.

Wordlessly, he extends the hand which holds the engagement ring. Taken slightly aback, the salesman grabs hold of the ring yet is met with unexpected resistance as the dark knight's grip tightens, not letting it go. Cecil raises his head and clearly states, "But I'm only letting you hold onto this."

The merchant crocks an eyebrow, needing only a moment to understand his meaning, "Oh? So you're willing to buy the ring back are you? Quite an odd way of conducting business, stranger. And just when can I be expecting the date of collection?"

"... For however long it takes."

"My oh my, waiting for a day that may never even come. Such highly unappealing terms right from the offset. If I were foolish enough to accept, it would leave me in an awkward position, a terribly tight spot indeed... It's something I'd expect due compensation for," the merchant's hand slowly rubs his unkempt beard while his eyes thin to mere slits in a calculated show of appraising the deal. Feeling his act has drawn out long enough, the merchant sticks out his hand: all 5 fingers outstretched. He then adds with a toothy smirk, "Ah..! And this is quintuple the amount of my own retail price, mind you."

"That's fine," Cecil replies without a shred of hesitation that renders the merchant speechless, not thinking his ludicrous offer would even be remotely accepted. He gawks at the dark knight for several seconds before bursting into loud, obnoxious laughter.

"Bwahahahaahahahaa! A-ahoohohoo! Y-You definitely are one of a kind, stranger..!" the merchant wheezes out, one arm clutching his stomach while the other hand wipes a stray tear from his eye. Cecil bites back his inner cheek and takes in a prolonged breathe. He has never considered himself to be a particularly violent person, yet the man before him is definitely testing the thresholds of his tolerance. The merchant manages to settle down after awhile and continues, "You do realize that while the gemstone set within this ring is indeed rare, it's not so valuable as to justify such a ridiculous price."

Growing forlorn, Cecil shakes his head in disagreement, "Even if there's another bearing a similar quality and shine, something like this can never be so readily replaced...

… Because this was the one, the only ring meant for her. But to relinquish it for even a moment… how could I? Even though Rosa may never know, to betray her so... Just what rights do I have to her now..?"

The merchant takes a good, long look at the dark knight, as if seeing him for the first time, before answering, "... Alright. If you're fool enough to accept such an offer, then I'd imagine you'll be fool enough to actually see it through. But don't keep me waiting for too long; I'd like to enjoy the early retirement after all."

With a smile that isn't completely tarnished with deceitful trickery, the salesman extends his right hand and Cecil looks down at it, not at all expecting this crooked merchant to abide by such an old tradition. He grasps the outstretched hand and the two men shake firmly, sealing the deal.

They walk over to the store counter in order to complete the transaction and Rydia, who has been keeping her distance these past few minutes, soon joins them. With orderly practice, the salesman begins counting the Gil and distributing them into two separate pouches while the dark knight vaguely looks on.

"You don't seem too happy," his ward observes. Cecil glances at her for a short while, then decides it's better to speak of the other, less personal issue that has just entered his mind.

"I was just thinking. You remember what I said about the caretakers from the Miran Inn?" the dark knight inquires and Rydia nods, "The money we have now can go a long way in helping with their present financial crisis. But after last night's incident, it's possible they might not want to accept our aid, and since we'll need to be leaving town soon, there won't be another opportunity should they turn us away."

"Well... there is something we could do, but you probably won't like the idea," she says after a bit of thought and Cecil listens with an open ear, "We can try asking this man for his help again."

At their mention of him, or perhaps it was at the prospect of earning more easy money, the merchant finishes tallying up the coins and inquires, "What's this I hear? You have something else in mind?"

"Actually, we were wondering if you can do us a favor?" Rydia pipes up.

The merchant leans in and speaks to the girl, a bit patronizingly, "My favors don't come free, little missy. But if you're looking to make a deal, then there's no sense not to hear it out."

"It's the people at the inn. We never got to pay them back yet and were hoping you can do it for us somehow."

"Ah, a jobber's run is it? Not something I'm usually called upon, but still simple enough. And what would be the amount of this fine donation?"

Before she can answer, the dark knight interrupts his ward by asking, "Just to be sure, Rydia. Are you certain with what you said before? That we don't need to worry about transportation?"

The girl cocks her head, probably recalling their discussion back in front of Kaipo's chocobo ranch, "Well, yeah. There's no problem if all we need is something like that."

Though still quite skeptical, Cecil nevertheless takes the smaller of the two pouches and pockets it, leaving a full bag of Gil on the counter. The merchant raises an eyebrow in mild surprise, "Blowing over half your earnings already? You certainly are a man loose with money, stranger."

"My only real concern is whether or not such a large sum will be received in its entirety," the dark knight replies with a pointed look.

The salesman crosses his arms and stands a little straighter, his bearings reflecting much pride for his work, "Having entrusted me with this job, you can consider the money to be as good as delivered. Now, moving matters along, how many figures can I be expecting in return?"

"Figures?" the girl echoes.

"My cut, little missy. The fee for my services."

"Oh. Well, how much would be good?"

"How does fifty—" the merchant unreasonably suggests but buckles under the dark knight's lethal warning glare. The salesman nervously coughs into his hand, then he offers with surprising modesty, "...five percent of gratuity sound..?"

Rydia fixes a hesitant glance towards Cecil and he gives a small motion of approval. However, she seems to have taken his gesture completely the wrong way as she says, "You wanted fifteen? Okay."

The salesman instantly beams with delight while the dark knight is thrown off and hastily tries to rectify, "He already agreed to a smaller share, Rydia, so there's absolutely no reason to give him any more than that."

The girl mulls over his words for all of two seconds before raising a hand and waving his comment away, "It's not all that big of a difference, right? And besides, he's been a big help to us all this time, so it's good to give him back a little extra as thanks."

The merchant wiggles his finger in mock reproach and chimes in, "For shame, stranger. You should be setting a better example for the little missy here. For her to know more in the ways of civil courtesy than you do. Tragic..! A true tragedy indeed."

"Yep!" his ward readily chirps and nods twice, as if once isn't enough to convey her over-eagerness.

Cecil glowers yet doesn't try to argue the point, knowing Rydia was at least partially right and that he was just being petty. The amount of money had never been a real issue since they can get by well enough even with the leftover funds. It was just incredibly vexing when he had received so little for the engagement ring, as if to say that was all it's worth, "Not to mention..."

The dark knight warily eyes the greedy merchant and finds it increasingly difficult to fight down his bitterness over handing this crook more money than he rightly deserves. Though highly reluctant, Cecil manages a stiff nod.

"Knew you'd come around to it, stranger, and I must give thanks for providing never-ending wonders for my business," the merchant says with pure mirth, his demeanor never chipper, "Tell you what. As a special bonus, I'll even throw in a freebie, a small something of the little missy's choosing."

"You mean I can have anything I want?" Rydia asks, a ting of childish hope in her tone, while Cecil's face is full of skepticism, knowing there has to be some kind of catch to his offer.

"That's right. But only one item around this section here."

She presses a finger against her chin and pauses, long and thoughtful, then she gives a deflated response, "On second thought, forget it."

"Hey now! You don't believe me? I'm a man of my word, little missy."

"But what if I pick something that's really valuable or expensive? You wouldn't like that, right?"

"Wha-ha-ha..! Oh, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about there." the salesman boosts and Cecil can now see why. With prices all marked under 100 Gil, it would be impossible for this cheapskate to lose anything of value here.

The girl ducks her head and looks up at him with wide, brimming eyes, "Really..? Are you sure?"

The merchant nods with great confidence, "Just go ahead and say whatever it is you like."

"Then I want that back," Rydia replies right away, much to Cecil's surprise as she drops all pretenses and whips a finger at what's inside the man's pocket.

The merchant blinks dumbly, "...Eh?"

"The ring. Give it back."

"... Ah..! You seem to be mistaken about something, little missy. The choices you have are limited to the merchandise found on these shelves."

"You didn't say anything like that before," she accurately states.

"Not in those exact words, no. But that's what I meant."

"All you said was that I can have anything in this section for free, nothing about where I can get it from. And since we're all around here, then I don't see why that ring can't be included."

The merchant replies in a stained voice, "Like I just mentioned, it was a tiny misunderstanding..."

"You're just making up excuses now and going back on your word, even though you swore you wouldn't."

"Well, yes— I mean no..! I wasn't—"

"So how was I wrong? 'specially when you're the one being all dishonest and not owing up to what they said."

The merchant turns his head up and away, looking as if he's having a serious migraine, and Cecil might have felt a twitch of sympathy if this were happening to a nicer, more honest person. But the salesman's dilemma is short-lived as he takes notice of the dark knight and suddenly recalls, "Ah yes, how can I forget..! I've already promised your companion here exclusive rights to this particular piece."

"... A promise..?" the girl quietly repeats, her face softening.

Seeing a chance to walk away with his dignity, the merchant pounces on it, "That's right, little missy. My previous agreement with him is iron-clad, takes top priority and can't be voided."

The girl furrows her eyes brows, full of doubt, yet is unable to give a good response. Knowing the relentless merchant will simply drag this argument out, Cecil steps up and interjects, "You don't need to go so far, Rydia."

She starts sulking, still not willing to let the matter go, "But it was so pretty, and it's important to you. I thought you really wanted it back."

The dark knight stares at his ward, realizing he must have looked awfully pitiful if she was able to deduce this much. He lets out a quiet breathe and answers earnestly, "I do. More than anything. And that's why I need to get it back myself or else it won't mean a thing."

"Still..."

"It's alright. What you've done already is more than enough," Cecil says, and he finds himself meaning it.

"It's as he says, little missy. A cheeky brat like you should just to sit tight and listen to your elders on this one," the merchant lectures as he shamelessly rallies behind the dark knight. Cecil glances sideways and grimaces, his good feelings quickly diminishing with each chummy slap of the shoulders made by the other man, "So now that you know better, you'll need to be selecting something else from this particular lineup."

"... That's okay. There's nothing here that I really want anyways," Rydia states truthfully after taking a quick glance over the multitude of lousy knickknacks. The salesman takes a long gander at her, scratching his beard while keeping one eye closed as he heavily considers.

"Fair enough. Then how about leaving the decision to me and see if I can choose an item that will strike your fancy," the merchant says. He then walks with purpose and the two of them follow suit, wondering what he has in mind. While moving through the center aisle, the salesman's hand hovers over the lower right-side shelf and teasingly dips just above some of the merchandise they happen to pass by, "So, I'm guessing... this should be... the one... right... about... Here."

Picking up a rather strange piece from the accessory area, the salesman holds it out with both hands and Rydia releases an audible breathe, her eyes twinkling. This was a little too good of a guess, or so Cecil figures. The merchant must have also been paying careful attention to the girl ever since they stepped foot inside the store. Knowing him though, it was most likely to make sure she wasn't shoplifting.

She reaches out to touch it, yet her fingers jerk back as she remembers herself and casts a timid glance at the dark knight. Cecil gives a reassuring nod that puts his ward at ease and she gladly takes it without further reservations.

Rydia places the oversized ornament atop her head and begins fiddling with the back of it, further tangling up strands of wild emerald hair in the process. Cecil dubiously looks on and is just about to say something when he hears the secure sound of a clip fastening. After a few quick swipes to flatten out her hair, Rydia twirls for him and cheerfully asks, "So how is it? Doesn't it look nice?"

The dark knight can only stare at the tacky hairpin with his mouth ajar, honestly not knowing what the hell it was until just a few seconds ago, "Yeah. That's, um, very... eye-catching..."

The hairpin is azure colored, much like Kain's armor yet is a couple of shades lighter than her own indigo eyes, and resembles a flower or a star or something of that nature. It's well-crafted and looks to be made from fine materials, yet one might begin having doubts of its quality upon discovering the multiple times its price tag has been slashed down. He can tell from the layers of collected dust that the accessory has been a hard sell despite only now being worth 450 Gil. And with a pointlessly large size that covers one-third of Rydia's entire head, it's no great wonder why it remained on the shelves. The dark knight squints his eyes as if that would magically transform his vision of the ornament, struggling to find at least one appealing aspect to it, "Perhaps it distracts away from her emerald hair? If just a tiny bit, maybe..? ... not.

… Well, I suppose it's fine," Cecil concedes as he lays witness to the infectious smile still adorning her face. If a simple hairpin can bring back a bit of joy into this girl's life, then he really has no reason to complain.

Concluding their business here, the two travelers make ready to leave yet the merchant speaks up once again, "A word of advice. If you're thinking of taking the old trading route north, then you best be wary. Recently, those traveling there turn up missing, while the returning few speak tales of a crazed old man who bars the path through the underground waterway. It would be a crying shame for me if you ended up like many of the others and became just another lost statistic."

Grateful for this tidbit of info, Cecil gives the merchant a final nod, "Needless to say we'll stay on guard. Until then."

"Be seeing you, stranger. And of course, the little missy as well. I'll be awaiting your return at anytime."

They exit the store and continue to walk until the two reach the outskirts of Kaipo. Even though they have a set road ahead and are better equipped, journeying through the vast desert regions on foot is an endeavor Cecil would care not to repeat. And so, he allows his ward free reign while he stands off to the side and waits.

Eyes half-lidded, Rydia begins by breaking her stillness and twirling in place, deliberately slow in her movements as she swings her arms freely about while dragging one foot across the sand. After completing a full turn, she halts to a pregnant stop. Then, she stomps the heel of her right foot once. Twice. Unbelievably, the ground actually quakes under the small girl's steps and grains of sand lift up a bit before they settle neatly back down, forming a variety of foreign runic markings within the circle she had made. Then as if overcome with sheer exhaustion, she slumps to the ground, her head bowed down with both knees and palms flat against the sand.

Several beats pass and Cecil starts to worry, fearing something might have gone wrong. He takes a step forward but instantly retracts back as the rune sparks to life. Rydia's vivid eyes snap forward just before a bright yellow flash rises from the ground and engulfs her whole.

The dark knight shields his face with his right hand and squirts into the light, trying to make out where his young ward is. The brightness soon fades and in its place stands a white chocobo, seeming to have risen straight out of nothing, with Rydia casually sitting sideways on top of it. She greets the giant bird affectionately, stroking its long, feathery neck and it responds by nuzzling its beak into her cheek.

"Amazing... Summoners indeed. The name certainly suits them well." Cecil thinks with awe andRydia, who had been gazing down at him with bright expectation, smiles wider upon seeing his agape reaction, "Then again, maybe it's not so surprising. At least I'm not being blown back a few dozen meters and scrambling for my life this time around."

Though he's unfamiliar with their species, he does know of one discrete, special trait based on its color. Like Troia's famous black chocobos, this one is another type of rare breed that, while unknown to him, possesses unique terrain abilities amongst its kind. The dark knight notes that the bird is fairly small, only about half the size of a common yellow chocobo, and thinks maybe it's a characteristic of its breed or that it has yet to reach full maturity. Unlike the docile mounts in Baron's stables or the malnourished ones he had seen earlier in the farming ranch of Kaipo, this chocobo is very robust and seems to be far more energetic and animated even in its idle stance.

Glad that he was right to believe in his ward, Cecil transfers the sack he's carrying, however, the chocobo jolts forward before he can securely tie down their belongings. He moves to pick up some of the fallen supplies and walks towards the giant bird yet it promptly trots away, "What the..?"

He takes a step forward and the chocobo again takes to two steps back. Several attempts at getting closer ends in failure and leaves the dark knight standing with a heavy scowl. Then suddenly, he makes a bold leap at the bird yet it manages to hop away, shaking off the excess baggage on its back in retaliation. He takes this moment to look at his ward who sits there, her face observant and unconcerned as she watches the antics unfold.

"Isn't there something you can do, Rydia?"

"Do..?" she blinks twice, confused, "Like what?"

"Well for one, can't you make this chocobo more obedient? We need to use him for traveling after all, and that won't be possible if he's acting this wild and rambunctious. Not to mention..." Cecil starts to say but trails off upon noticing the unpleasant look on his ward's face.

"I can't make her do anything. She answers my call and listens to me because she's my friend." the summoner acutely replies, "If you want Coco to behave, then you can start by treating her more nicely."

"So, respect others and they'll respond in kind..? Will that even work for this bird?"

Mimicking Rydia's earlier actions, Cecil starts out by rubbing the plush underside of its fluffy neck but the chocobo doesn't take too kindly to the gesture. With its pointy beak, it swiftly pecks at his palm and causes the dark knight to flinch his hand away with a startled cry.

"She doesn't like to be touched so familiar-like by strangers," Rydia states a bit too late, "But it's good. I think she's starting to warm up to you."

Still squeezing his punctured wound numb, the dark knight replies flatly, "I'm really not seeing it."

"That's just 'cause you're not paying enough attention. It took me a long time too, but understanding her becomes real easy once you know what to look for."

Suppressing his irritation, Cecil squats down and fumbles through their luggage in order to retrieve the gyashi greens. He had learned from Rosa that the herb is used as a key ingredient in the creation of the potion's series. But even on its own the aloe from its leaves can be used as a healing ointment which can clog up minor open wounds.

Just as he was about to apply the herb, the chocobo perks up and trots over to him. Cecil stares in disbelief before tentatively trying to pet it for a second time, but his hopes are stripped away once again as the unruly bird snatches the gyashi greens right out from his other hand.

"Hey—!" the dark knight shouts then snaps his mouth shut to keep from shouting any obscurities. Grabbing onto the other end, he gives a mighty tug which causes the herb to be split into two and sends him stumbling a few paces back. The chocobo wastes no time as it dips its neck and begins devouring the large supply of gyashi greens from the open sack. Cecil quickly stands over their luggage and tries shooing it away but the chocobo fights back in a ruffle of feathers, aggressively flapping its wings as it gives no quarter.

"Just so you know, you're not winning many points with Coco right now," Rydia supplies. The dark knight shifts his focus towards her, mainly so that he wouldn't be glaring daggers at the damnable bird.

"Why is this chocobo even eating these greens anyway? Isn't its regular diet supposed to consist of carrots and other vegetables?"

"Hmm... I don't know about that. But she obviously likes the food you brought."

He lets out a hefty sigh, "It just has to have expensive taste..."

"Yeah. She is kinda spoiled and likes to be pampered," Rydia affirms and the chocobo coos in unabashed agreement. It begins making various motions with its wings and claws which grabs her undivided attention, and the summoner gives all sorts of affirmative nods in-between until she finally exclaims, "Oh, great news! Coco said she might reconsider carrying your stuff if you become her personal groomer."

The dark knight stands there with an incredible look on his face as a dry desert breeze blows by, "... I'll have to decline."

A disappointed frown appears on his ward's face, "You're not happy with it?"

"That's not exactly what I pictured my future occupation to be," he concretely informs. Scraping together the leftover remains of his patience, Cecil barely manages a civilized request, "Rydia. Can you please try harder to reason with this choco— with Coco and get her to understand how vital her cooperation is?"

The summoner briskly nods in compliance. Scooting closer towards the front, she presses down then pats the wide, unoccupied space of its back but the chocobo merely turns its beak up in response. Rydia reaches out with both hands, takes hold of the its face and turns it back her way. Then she gets real close and starts rubbing their foreheads together as if direct contact will better convey her unspoken message. The chocobo stubbornly bristles, yet calms down after awhile until finally it appears to settle into the idea.

"Well... Coco believes you're really rude and think way too highly of yourself. But she at least likes your honesty, so she's willing to let you ride her this one time. 'Just don't get any funny ideas' she said."

"I'll bear that in mind and keep idle hands from roaming," Cecil responds, exasperated, as he wonders just how much creative liberty Rydia was taking in her role as translator. But true to her word, the chocobo gives him no further delays with the packing, so he can at least cross out the possibility that this was all just make-believe.

He hops on without incident and the two travelers resume their trek through the desert. It's been a surprisingly pleasant and smooth ride even without a saddle, and the sweltering sun doesn't seem nearly as harsh due to the constant headwind. For what feels like the first time in ages, the dark knight is able to slack back and relax, "I have to admit, Rydia, that Coco has been of great help. It's fortunate you were able to handle this situation."

"Mm, it's no big deal. You can do it too,"

He gives a faint smile, "That's doubtful, since I don't have much talent for sorcery much less the mystics of summoning."

"Oh, not that. I just meant being able to talk with her even without words. Though I guess things could have been a whole lot easier, but I'm just the same as you here."

His eye brows wrinkling, Cecil has a hard time understanding, "Similar to me? In regards to what?"

"A link: by forming one with Coco we could do all kinds of things like read each other's mind. I haven't made a connection with her either," the summoner states, then shakes her head and corrects herself, "Or it's more like I'm not allowed to."

He blinks, remembering a time not too long ago where he had witnessed her magic firsthand, "How strange...

Why is that?"

"I don't really know, but that's just the way it's always been," she says with a shrug before returning her gaze ahead, tilting her head skyward while doing so, "The feeling though and what it's like... It's life-changing, like exchanging a little piece of your entire being. But it's needless for us though, since no person born is ever really missing anything. That's why it's best if we never knew a single thing or else you have to give yourself up completely; all so that you won't be left with nothing but a hole in your heart... At least that was what mama had told me."

The chocobo trots on, leaving behind only its footprints across the sand before they too are erased by a fell wind and vanish from all existence.

"..? What is it?" Rydia asks after turning her head back.

Cecil stares into her face, crease-less and lacking in any type of emotion. Her mouth is set into a fine line, no wet or wavering eyes, not even so much as a quiver had arisen in her voice. Nothing at all to suggest something might be amiss with her: and that's precisely the problem.

"This should be a good thing, right? So why does it feel otherwise..?

No... it's nothing," the dark knight relies yet fails to reassure even himself, "... Am I just being pessimistic? But for her to speak of the past as if she never played any part in it... Can she already be alright with everything? Is it really so easy for her to forgive and forget..?"

The thought fills him both with hollow relief and vile disgust, because now he has less to feel guilty about.

Cecil lies his musings to rest and observes his surroundings, its simplicity far more preferred than fishing for questions he knows not the answers to.

The grains of sand hitting his skin. The breath of the desert. The heat of the sun. The white clouds overhead. The dry air.

Sitting here, relaxing. Doing nothing but sitting.

Lying back. Relaxing. Breathing.

…Calmly. Fading...

Weary...breathing...

…heavy

…fading...

…sleep...y...

…no...thing...

…not...

...a...

...thing...

---

His vision grew blurry and when he blinked, the endless sand and vast skies collapsed into an enclosed space full of rustic brown, creamy tan, rainbow dots and man-made gray. This building, this place: it was an all too familiar scene that he shouldn't even be seeing. He looked around and found a familiar teenage girl occupying the same table opposite of him.

"Rosa..?" Cecil uttered, as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. And like the pouring sand inside an hourglass, the weight of the consciousness lopsided and the images he had known to be true soon slipped into nothing more than remnants of a waking dream.

"You've been in a daze for so long that I was beginning to think you had departed from this world," she lightly teased, then her expression shifted to one of mild sympathy, "Though I can imagine why. It must be rather boring, always sitting here with nothing to do but watch me study."

"That's not true, or else I wouldn't have come in the first place," he replied with a slight smile, not noticing the long hours which had flown by since his stay. A thought then struck him and the squire scratched his right cheek with a finger while lowering his gaze a bit abashed, "Or is this your subtle way of saying I'm just being a bother?"

"Not at all..! It's wonderful to have you here, especially since we've been seeing so little of each other as of late."

Cecil gave a relaxed nod before he rose from his own chair and headed towards the bookshelves, distancing himself so that he wouldn't provide any further distractions. Her pensive gaze still lingered on him, however, and it wasn't until the squire walked out of her view before the trainee mage quietly resumed her work.

He wondered down each index section, not looking for anything in particular. The squire would usually read a book on swordplay or strategic tactics so that he could at least be learning proper form and game theory during his occasional visits here. But he just couldn't focus today, his mind too occupied with thoughts of tomorrow onwards.

His fingers thumbing through the rows, a familiar title happened to catch Cecil's eyes and he stretched up in order to remove a hefty book from the second top shelf.

"'A Court Jester's Guide to Arcana Terminology and Pronunciation, Vol. III...'" he read out loud and a fond smile spread across his face as the squire began recalling Kain's last visit into town.

Eyes glazed over in sheer boredom, Kain had not been a happy camper spending his lone holiday inside the public library. But since he also wanted to spend time with Rosa, this was the place he had to be. However, the page had never been one to take things lying down and so to help quicken the pace, the complete novice had attempted to tutor the apprentice in the ways of magic.

Picking up this exact copy from her pile, his friend had opened the book with ignorant aplomb, took a moment's glance inside, and then his expression froze up in that instant. He hastily flipped through the pages, all the while babbling about unrelated subjects matters, and went through the whole volume without finding a single sentence that was remotely comprehensible, the contents of the grimoire looking little more than mere gibberish to him. Cecil had a difficult time stiffening his laughter. He empathized with Kain on a certain level, as if feeling his own manly pride was being publicly castrated, yet he still found the show his friend was putting on highly entertaining.

Of course, it stopped being fun as soon as the trainee mage posed the same challenge at him.

Being smart enough to know his limits, Cecil had tried changing the subject but the page wouldn't let him, vengefully wanting another scapegoat to share in the same embarrassment. Through both Rosa's deceptively gentle coaxing and Kain's unbridled jeering, he was quickly peer pressured into trying his hand at it and the ensuing spurs of merriment followed, so spontaneous and carefree that the librarian had warned them several times before they were finally asked to leave. At the very least, the squire could say with confidence that he did a better job than Kain had done. Though in the end, Rosa was the only one who received a good laugh at both of their expense.

His hand stopped flipping through the pages in reminiscence; that had been the last time all three of them were together. Kain's holiday ended the following day, and he along with his fellow cadets were recalled back to the castle.

Including the four months before his last visit, a full year had gone by since their trio was cut down to a duo. And now like his friend before him, Cecil had become of age as well. By tomorrow afternoon, he too will be officially enlisted into Baron's military academy.

Though their personalities had clashed more often than not, Cecil knew deep down that they both upheld the same principles and sought after the same goals. This in turn led to their endless tale at one-upmanship; the squire never wanting to fall one step behind while Kain held no intentions of relinquishing even an inch of his lead. But ever since his best friend advanced on to the next level, daily training sessions had felt like grueling labor, mechanical and slow. And then there was Rosa whom he hadn't been seeing much of as well.

Truthfully, it had been lonely; even though it was just single physical barrier which separated the teenage boys, even though she was still close enough for him to be able to reach out and touch her. Without those two in his life, Cecil only felt half as good. Like he regressed to his earliest years before he had any real friends to call his own, back when his heritage was forever placed into question as nothing more than the king's stray orphan.

The squire shut his eyes, lowered the book in his hands and leaned against the shelf, trying to shift his focus on less destructive thoughts. Recapturing his train of thought, it was around this time one year ago when Rosa had also gone absent from the archery range following the page's departure.

A refined, proper skill for any noblewoman to possess, her parents had first believed she practiced for the sport of it and Cecil had thought the same. It wasn't until last year's ceremony did they all discover how serious she was, having full intentions to follow up on her training and join the ranks of Baron's military. She was a natural with the bow, so much so that her archery instructor had broken protocol and fought hard for her active admission, but her family wielded considerable influence and they easily closed the door on that prospect.

Cecil released a deep exhale; he had received quite a bit of heat from Rosa's mother on that day, accusing him of being chiefly responsible for how her daughter ended up, and at times he couldn't help but think she might be right. If Rosa had never gotten to know the two boys, perhaps she wouldn't have such lofty aspirations that were well below her station.

At least when it came to Rosa's well-being, both he and her family were on the same wavelength. The squire also didn't want his dear friend exposed out in the battlefield, he never wanted to see her get hurt.

It wasn't long before the issue with her parents was resolved with a quick compromise. Upon discovering a moderate deposition for white magic, they allowed her to pursue an education in magecraft so long as her duties to the kingdom remained limited upon graduation.

From then on, Rosa had stopped coming by to see the squire at the training grounds and had quit archery altogether, her efforts focused entirely on her new chosen career path. She seemed to spend every waking moment within the confines of this library or with her private tutor taking supplementary lessons. For her to even rank a passing grade in her classes was something of a miracle, a true testament to all her dedication, though she still continued struggling with the material and to keep up with students who have several more years of tutelage within the field.

And while the whole town will soon be celebrating, she'll be here alone toiling away, yielding not a day's relaxation even for his sake.

Turning towards a specific direction, the squire stared straight in between the thin gaps of the bookshelves and saw the distant figure of Rosa who was still seated, her table not as cluttered nor the stacks of books half as high as they had been when she first started out. It was a clear sign of her progress over the past year yet he still had to wonder, not for the first time, why she felt the need to push herself so hard and do all of this.

With Kain, he could understand since his friend carried the proud knight's legacy of his forefathers before him. Cecil also held a similar conviction. He wanted to repay the king in any way and to never bring shame upon his name, so that the monarch wouldn't know a moment's regret for choosing to raise him as his own.

He just didn't know what to make of Rosa's decision. She had a loving family who thought foremost of her welfare and who had provided her an array of future opportunities. There should be a grander stage for her to perform in, something far better than the harsh and humble lifestyle she was settling for and enduring.

Cecil noted the quiet inactivity and looked across the room, seeing Rosa forlorn with her gaze lying elsewhere. He followed her line of sight towards one of the windows which offered a majestic, if not foreboding view of Castle Baron and saw that it was raining. Just a small drizzle really, but noticing it made him acutely aware of the drastic temperature drop and cool humidity which now occupied the once stuffy room.

He should really rest now and prepare for the big day tomorrow. But the squire didn't move from his spot and continued to whittle the time away, thinking instead on what might happen should the rain grow into a storm unlike any the city of Baron had ever seen. Perhaps the downpour will cause the moat to overflow and make access into the castle impossible, thereby causing a few days delay in the inductee ceremony.

No. Why stop there?

Maybe the storm of epic proportions will cause a definite cancellation for the entire year. But now that he thought about it, a flood of that magnitude will probably reach all the way into the city as well. For both of them to live stranded inside this building for the remainder of their days; things could get a tad difficult but it's still perfectly doable. He could be quite resourceful when the need arises and the minor necessities could surely be solved by Rosa and the mystic mysteries of her learned magic.

Having thrown all rationale aside, Cecil continued his wayward musings. The opinion of his peers, the full expectations of the king, just being here with her made him care for none of it. It would be nice if they could simply stay like this.

"Isn't it about time..?"

Though her voice was just above a whisper, it carried clearly across the empty room. Cecil's eyes regained their focus back to reality. Even if he should forget himself completely, Rosa surely wouldn't allow him to. Still, it had felt nice to entertain those thoughts if even for a little while, "Yeah... You're right."

He randomly returned the book onto the shelves while the trainee mage rose out from her cluttered desk and together they walked towards the library entrance.

The trip was short, not lasting even a minute. The squire opened the door yet couldn't bring himself to step outside, and so he remained standing between the entryway. Downcast, Rosa spoke, "Forgive me, Cecil. Even though this is suppose to be your big moment, I won't even be there to celebrate it with you."

"Well, don't think too much of it. This is really all just for formality's sake... Also, your workload is heavy enough as is. And I would hate for you to overburden yourself on my account," he honestly replied, for he felt his words would betray him if he had strayed anywhere else.

The sound and scent of raindrops beckoned him away, but he couldn't leave things the way they were. And so following his impulses, he hugged Rosa, much more than what could be deemed platonic and bordering on downright inappropriate. His mind finally caught up to what his body was doing and blared out that he could still pull back now and coolly play it off. But they won't be seeing each other for many years to come, so he should be entitled to this much, shouldn't he?

"I'm sorry, Cecil..." she apologized for the second time and he felt those naive thoughts breaking into a sound of shattered glass. But before the feelings of rejection could begin sinking in, Rosa leaned into his embrace and continued, "To use your leaving as an excuse. We could have spent many more days together had I acted sooner. So to make up for lost time, this will have to do..."

And before the squire could fully register what was happening, she closed the tiny distance left between them and kissed him chastely. His face erupted, her bold action leaving him feeling hot and heady.

Rosa placed a hand against his chest and gently, yet somehow firmly pushed the dysfunctional squire outside while she took one step back herself, the threshold of the door definitively separating them. She stood for several seconds with her eyes locked on the floor and her cheeks flushed in scarlet embarrassment. Then, her fingers intertwined together below her waist and she raised her head, sending him off with a warm, supportive smile, "Congratulations."

---

The faint sound of puddle drops can still be heard even as Cecil slowly opens his eyes, not realizing he had them closed this whole time. He places a hand over his face and rubs his temple to try shaking off his weariness, "Only a dream..? Just a faraway memory..."

The dark knight sees that he's still sitting atop of the white chocobo, though it is no longer in motion and lies lazily on the stone cavern floor. Rydia is also relaxing a few meters away, her back to him with arms propped along both sides while her feet lightly splash into the nearby pond. Patches of light leak through the cracks of the high ceiling above and shimmer down, playing on the water's surface as it softly shines and glistens.

Cecil takes in this brief respite and allows the well of sadness to wash over him, his hand fingering the empty jewelry box in his pocket.

"... No... even if everything else is lost, surely there will come a time where I can return, at least for her..."

It's the only future he can possibly believe in; even if he comes back to a place where nothing is the same, even if the passage of years erodes all of her love for him away.

He sinks his emotions deep within. At any rate, he can't be showing again such a hapless face, "Sorry, Rydia. Have I kept you waiting?"

Startled, she snaps her head towards him then shakes it in reply, "It hasn't been that long. And anyways, it's not really your fault."

The summoner points forward, across the pond at what looks to be a campsite just up ahead.

As the two draw near, they can see the dull red embers of the smothered campfire and Rydia wrinkles her nose at the smell of burnt fish loafing in the air. A rustle is heard from inside the tent and soon a figure steps out, studying them inquisitively. Without a doubt, this is the same dangerous man that had been described by the merchant.

Judging from his iron-gray hair and bottle-coke spectacles, he looks to be in his early 60's. His hairstyle is quite bizarre and along with his pointed beard, it gives his head a distinct, triangle-like shape. In his hand holds a wooden scepter fashioned in the form of a griffin and on his person is a purple antique robe. Based on those two features as well as his outdated attire, it's fairly certain this old man is a traditional, longstanding magician.

"Still, it's odd..."

This is their first meeting yet somehow the dark knight feels he knows this person from somewhere. It then strikes Cecil as he recalls seeing several illustrations of this man inside the library grimoires.

"Pardon me, good sir, but would your name happen to be Tellah? As in the great sage Tellah of Mysidia?"

The old man nods, "The very same, though I have not been referred to as such in a very long while. It is quite surprising that someone like you would know of me."

"Yes, I've heard your name in passing mention from a dear friend of mine who studies the arcane arts."

"And you yourself would be a mercenary, am I correct?" Tellah inquires after setting his eyes on the dark knight's sword. The sage's attention then shifts to Rydia, his left hand adjusting the spectacles on his face as he continues in a profound whisper, "And this child..."

Cecil takes half a step forward, obscuring the sage's view of his ward as he responses, "Ahh... It's my duty to protect her and see her safe passage into the kingdom of Damcyan. However, I hear the way is blocked..?"

A single beat passes before Tellah lets his arm drop to his side and addresses the dark knight, "That is so. A terrible sea creature dwells deep within the gorge ahead and assaults any who dares enter its territory. Could the dead whisper such secrets, the foolhardy caravans which have come before you would attest to this fact. It would be wise of you to venture no further."

"Thank you for the warning. Unfortunately, we cannot afford to heed your advice."

"Even knowing the dangers you still intend to proceed?" Tellah openly questions. Pondering the matter silently, he then speaks, "Then if you would, allow me to join you. I believe the both of us working together will be enough to thwart the beast."

Seeing merit in their partnership, Cecil nods his consent and moves onward, however, the sage quickly stops him with an outstretched hand, "Not this way. A direct assault on the creature will prove suicidal. Please leave your belongings here and come with me."

With that said, Tellah takes a separate path leading to higher ground, an unexpected detour away from their intended destination. Uncertain, Cecil nevertheless follows the sage's guidance and soon enough the group is on their way to the unseen perils which lie ahead.

---

A flash. Thunder booms and crashes down, electrocuting the school of unsuspecting piranha swimming in the riverbank below. One by one they float and rotate upright, their bloated bellies bobbing along with the waves as the stream eventually carries their charred remains far and away.

An eruption of water had scattered out from the lightning strike and a few of those beads happen to catch Rydia in her left eye. While wiping the irritation away, she sees Tellah lowering his scepter for what has to be the umpteenth time, and as the caller has come to expect, he pulls out a metal flask from within his robes and takes a careful, calculated sip once more.

With the sage taking it upon himself to dispatch of any viable threat, it leaves Cecil with little to do in his uneventful position as rear guard. Not that he seems to be complaining nor does Rydia expect him to. For no matter how strong she knows him to be, she imagines underwater combat lies outside the shadow knight's forte, his movements heavily weighed while any form of attack might as well just be sluggish whacks coming from a slim steel club.

Just like Cecil had previously expressed, the sage's spells were a boon to have. But there's something about him, about this whole situation which keeps her on edge.

The caller has never seen magic quite like Tellah's until today, power that is his very own, so she really has no right to criticize in matters she lacks any fundamental knowledge of.

So why? The sage hasn't done anything at all to earn her distrust, so why then can't she help but feel wary of him..?

"You've been awfully quiet for a while now, Rydia. Is anything wrong?"

The caller gives pause to her guardian's inquiries, trying extra hard to form her thoughts and put them into the right words, "... He's struggling..."

"Who? Tellah?" Cecil wonders out loud before scrutinizing the sage walking several paces in front of them. The group has been steadily climbing uphill through these tunnels for the past few hours now and still he shows no signs of slowing down, "... I don't think so. He's actually holding up far better than one would expect for a man his age."

Rydia shakes her head and frowns, frustrated with herself for being unable to understand what she's feeling, "Not in that way..."

"And how might I ask, in what manner would you happen to be referring?" Tellah interrupts as he tilts his head back, eying her from above the rim of his spectacles. The caller shyly retracts back and doesn't answer, yet the sage isn't at all offended but rather seems pleased with her assessment.

Cecil turns to him, diverting the sage's attention away from her while changing the subject, "If you wouldn't mind, Tellah, you've yet to explain how this detour is of any benefit to us."

"In but a few moments. All shall be revealed shortly upon arrival at our destination."

And just like that, the path soon opens up and daylight can be seen at the far end of the tunnel. The sound of rushing water becomes distinctly louder as they draw near the exit and upon stepping outside, their view of the scenery expands tremendously.

The group now resides on top of a narrowing cliff which oversees the interior scope of an immense, open-air gorge. Having come across a dead end, Rydia gazes down and recognizes several areas they've already passed by on their hike upstream – then the sight of it hits her. They've been going around in circles this entire time, doing nothing more than spiral up the high reaches of this grand domain.

Many creeks and streams from all around congregate here, flowing down from various heights and elevations along the outer region and pooling into the vast lake below. Masses of land are few and far between as the majority of the gorge is filled with crystalline water which perfectly mirrors the wide, gold tinted skies above.

It's beautiful, but at the same time feels wholly unnatural. Besides the constant flow of streaming water, the gorge itself is as quiet as a grave site, devoid of life and becoming an untouched paradise.

As she continues surveying the area, the caller starts understanding the reason for this wayward hike. There are actually two main bodies of water at the bottom of the gorge. This is made more obvious by the water level differential due to a land dike, about 40 feet high and spanning nearly 500 feet across, which boxes in a large corner of the domain and keeps the neighboring lake from engulfing it completely.

The waterfall just up ahead flows directly down this very section. What's more, the pond looks rather shallow along its borders and will probably make wading through that much easier for their group.

"So, the creature's dwellings lie someplace there?" Cecil asks, indicating a random area down in the center.

"That is so. The Octomammoth moves with incredible swiftness and needs only but a few moments to transverse the far range of this entire lake. Those taking the most direct route must still swim a lengthy distance between each of the isolated islands," the sage responds and points down towards a specific location, "The prior caravans which have made it midway through... it has long been my hypothesis that they have only managed due to that vile creature's ploy. To lure, entrap then ravage them only after all means of escape have been thoroughly forfeited and stripped away."

The situation grows heavier and Rydia swallows hard under the pressure. Her guardian, however, picks up on a subtle detail and his expression becomes slim and tight, "Forgive me if I appear out of line, but why is it only now that you choose to act when you've remained a spectator for the many others who were in greater need of your assistance?"

Taken aback, Tellah turns his gaze while adopting a sober look.

"There are reasons. The first, dreadful to say, is because both my mind and body are no longer what they used to be. Many seasons have passed since I have retired life as a sorcerer and have long since forgotten my repertoire of spells. Only after deep meditation these past few weeks did I begin recalling even the most basic enchantments, as well as piece together the entirety of a very special incantation. One which will certainly fall the sea creature without fail," The sage explains as he retrieves a rolled-up piece of parchment from inside his baggy sleeves, "This scroll contains one of the forbidden Arcana Hexes. As such, it is imperative for the caster to receive a great measure of support while the spell is amidst preparation."

"From what I'm gathering, you seem awfully confident in this spell's given success."

"And rightfully so. All public records of Great Magic classified level-4 and above have long since been banned by Mysidia's council due to their wary array of sheer, unbridled power. For all intent and purposes, their original use is for besieging castles and eradicating army battalions," Tellah informs. He then falls silent, turning his head towards the gouge once more, "... Sufficient to say, sorcery on so grand a scale is not without demerit. And so I will ask again. This mission you hold, is it truly worth risking everything for? Faced with such explicit dangers, no one can place neither blame nor fault should you choose to preserve your own life and security."

Cecil pauses, his eyes drifting far away, "There was a time, maybe, when that might have still held true... but no longer. Those things now are far beyond me."

Rydia sadly looks on while Tellah stares at the shadow knight, not fully knowing what to make of his reply, before giving a weighty nod. While chanting, he raises his scepter and from its tip a soft transparent bubble begins to expend until it swallows the group entirely.

Upon feeling herself rising, the caller becomes startled and trips forward. But instead of falling face-first onto the ground, she performs a full, effortless somersault that sways her back into an upright position. She looks down and sees that her feet are now dangling several inches off the floor, her weightless body completely suspended in midair. And it's not just her, both men are also caught in the same predicament.

"This should aid in slowing our descent," the sage says with perfect composure while the other two have more trouble maintaining their balance, "We jump on my signal. Are the two of you ready?"

Both nod, the shadow knight with mild absence and the caller only after much reluctance. She doesn't want to be the one slowing them down, and so she holds back the queasiness in the pit of her stomach.

"Rydia," her guardian calls out. She looks to see Cecil with his back to her, crouched down and gesturing with both hands. Figuring out what he wants, she hops on and the shadow knight carries her piggyback style, "When the time comes, close your eyes and hold your breath. Don't let go no matter what, understand?"

Though still highly unprepared, the caller manages a wordless nod. The two men move towards the cliff side and stops just inches along the edge. Several beats pass in nervous anticipation, then Tellah begins the countdown.

"5..."

Cecil leans forward, which in turn causes her eyesight to fall on the landscape below, and suddenly the volume of the roaring rapids besides them feels like it increased tenfold.

"...4..."

The distance seems so much greater as she stares straight down the cliff side and watches the plummeting water dissipate into vapor clouds at base of the waterfall. Her shaky hold clasps tighter while her face is pressed up against the shadow knight's shoulder, whatever imitation of courage she had left is quickly dwindling.

"...3..."

She suddenly feels her whole body pop up, her grip loosening and her vision no longer darkened as a result, and the caller finds that it was Cecil's doing after he placed the flat side of his sheathe sword under her for better support.

"...2..."

Looking at him, she wonders how in the world can he remain so perfectly calm in this situation, "No, not really calm. More like... whatever happens to him, he's ready."

In both Mist and Kaipo, the caller imagines this is how Cecil must have looked like had she chanced a glance up at him during either one of those battles. His expression is so finely focused that it offers no room for either compassion or solace. But that's fine for her, because it also breaks free from the illusions of false hope and empty promises.

"...1!"

The group jumps, and Rydia entrusts it all to her guardian who's eyes glimmer with the resolve to see them all safely through.

---

The whopping plunge jars him to his very core, like the shock of a thousand needles piercing into his flesh. It takes all of Cecil's willpower just to keep from passing out as his sunken body floats listlessly within the pond. Regaining enough strength, the dark knight pushes through the pressure and swims upward.

He breaks the surface in a gasp for air and hears a second set of lungs breathing deeply behind him. Rydia had done a fine job following his instructions, and he can see Tellah had recovered with remarkable haste. Already, the sage is moving alongside the regional walls and is halfway to a jagged stone staircase, the only path which leads further up to the surrounding land dike.

The dark knight paddles, still carrying his ward, to the shallow ends where the water fluctuates between waist- and ankle-deep. While following after Tellah, he picks up on a subtle yet increasing disturbance.

It's the sound of rippling water. Even with his vision blocked by mounds of rock and gravel, Cecil knows something huge is stealthfully submerged beneath the lake, swimming back and forth along the outer walls until its presence resides just outside the thinnest portion of the dam.

Just as the sage had planned, the Octomammoth is barred from reaching the other side due to the land strip separating the two great bodies of water. However, things aren't so simple as to end there. The dark knight witnesses eight orange tentacles rising from the depths before slamming heavily down.

*Baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baaB!*

That systematic, ground pounding sound echoes repeatedly as the lake monster proceeds to flatten the rocky barrier hindering it.

*Baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baaB!*

His eyes transfix on the sight, Cecil remains unaware as his foothold abruptly ends at the worst possible moment right in front of him.

A costly mistake, a fatal misstep sends the upper portion of his body plunging into the pond. His head pops back up a second later, yet horrid dread starts building as he finds himself alone: the familiar weight of his ward no longer at his back.

He dives down and locates the summoner quickly as she's being swept further away by an underwater stream funneling into a large burrow. Cecil grabs hold of her in time and somehow manages to swim back up, barely escaping from the vortex himself.

Immediately after resurfacing, Rydia coughs and wheezes out the water filling her windpipe while Cecil's attention is drawn back to the Octomammoth, its gigantic, gelatinous mass now within plain sight on top of the dam.

He wrenches his eyes away from the sight and moves. Yet the pull of the current is still too strong, and that along with keeping Rydia above water with one arm while the other holds onto his sheathe sword makes swimming an arduous task. The sea creature inches just as slowly across land, using all of its tentacles to drag its deadweight body along. But while the beast only has a small strip of ground to cross, the gulf of water which lies in between them and the coast is nearly 15 times as great.

Just as his thoughts start turning desperate, Cecil feels a brush of hot air fly high above him and he turns just in time to see a fireball striking the ground in front of the beast, making it to reel away from the still-burning blaze.

He looks back towards the source and finds Tellah atop of a broad, high-rising platform at the sharpest corner of the land dike, chanting feverishly under his breath as two blazing orbs start to materialize in front of him.

"Quickly!" the sage urges and with the head of his scepter, he whacks the orbs in 1-2 succession. The fiery missiles careen down at the Octomammoth and quickly find their mark, the first scraping alongside one of its many tentacles while the other squarely slams into its forehead. The creature wails from the blow yet it's not nearly enough to deter the monster's pursuit of its two helpless quarries.

It's a race against time. Tellah continues providing cover and buy them precious seconds while Cecil redoubles his efforts to reach the shoreline. He wills himself to keep swimming if just a little faster, ignoring the signals his body is giving of its aching fatigue.

Only after several seconds of inactivity does he begin to realize that the situation had changed: and it had taken a turn for the worse. The dark knight looks up and discovers Tellah holding off the assault, his spells currently on standby. He then dares to glance back along with Rydia and they both find nothing. Whether it's on top of the dam or residing beneath the pond, neither hair nor hide of the monster can be seen anywhere.

*DOOUM!*

A booming sound reverberates loudly throughout the entire gorge. The quality and feel: it was the same as the defiant strike from a battering ram, and it's only after hearing it a second time does its origins become known.

*DOOOUUM!*

Deep cracks begin spreading across the wall of the dam, right below the spot where the Octomammoth was previously at, and Cecil finally realizes. It had dove back into the lake, completely shielded now from the sage's magic, and is proceeding to break through by force.

*DOOOOUUUM!*

Water begins squirting out from the fissures at an alarming rate; just one more hit is all it'll take.

*DOOOUSSSWWOOOOOOOSSHHHH!*

Lake water bursts out like a vertical geyser and even over the roaring outpour, the sea creature can still be heard dunking into the pond far behind them. But the flood creates an unforeseen effect of overpowering the underwater vortex and freeing them from its influence, which in turn allows both he and Rydia to ride along those same waves as it brings them closer to shore.

Tellah resumes raining down spells one after another, knowing it's all in vain yet he can think of nothing else but to try, and Cecil doesn't need to see his ward's terrified face to feel the Octomammoth is fast approaching. But what's even stronger is his own intuition, and it's telling him that they finally—

There..! He can feel his toes scrape across the seafloor. Cecil stretches out to regain solid footing and immediately pushes his way through the weighty resistance. The water level is up to his nose. Now down to his chin.

The Octomammoth closes the miniscule gap and begins utilizing its tentacles to capture its quarry's legs.

Below the neck. Descending to his shoulders. Now at mid-chest.

But through a combination of the dark knight's dexterity, luck and perseverance, each grappling attempt ends in a crop failure. The creature aims higher, to the larger, less nimble body part of his waist.

Water comes up just above his stomach. He's gotten close enough and quickly pushes Rydia the rest of the way forward – his right hand now free.

The Octomammoth's hold completely encircles his torso in its vise-like grip, ready to drag him down to his watery grave, but Cecil moves just a split second faster, twisting around while drawing his sword in one swift motion. The velocity easily slices the water surface wide open and the blade cuts acutely into its tender flesh.

Its wrapped tentacle instantly turns limp and two more quickly shoot up from the pond in retribution. Yet they are merely exposed targets for the dark knight to hack and slash away like overgrown weeds, and after having its two other limbs thoroughly severed, the monster makes a full retreat back into the depths.

With the pond two meters higher now and rising, Cecil doesn't stop backpedaling until he resides well above the shoreline.

A long, unblinking moment passes. He then flops onto the stone steps, allowing himself room to breathe, and his ward comes to sit beside him looking concerned yet more so relieved.

Cecil continues to watch the steady flow of outpouring floodwater, its waves concealing whatever ripples of movement the Octomammoth is surely making.

---

The immediate threat has passed and Tellah is able to breathe easy. To have fought back the beast in such dire conditions, the mercenary's combat prowess has well exceeded his expectations. With this, his primary worries are laid to rest and he can now even consider Cecil's duty complete; he needs only to focus on fulfilling his own role.

The sage takes out and drinks from his metal flask, emptying its contents of the leftover hi-ether. Chanting magic in such quick succession had placed too heavy a drain on his aged body, and in part he wishes the circumstances would have allowed him to keep a little of the liquid mana in reserve. But the overall situation has worked out well in their favor. The Octomammoth is now confined within a far smaller radius where even an indirect strike from the Arcana Hex will permanently cripple, if not outright slay the beast.

Tellah retrieves the scroll containing the Great Magic Thundaja, the highest achieved mastery of its class within the elemental-3 series. It would have been better if he was able to recall the weaker, yet more battle-oriented variations of Thundaga or even Thundara instead. But beggars can't be choosers and the sage can only hope that all of today's conjuration was enough, that he was able to regain over a decade's worth of practice within the frame of a single day.

He grabs the knot and unravels the scroll with gusto, spreading it wide while holding it up along with his scepter. He then begins reciting the spell's extensive incantation.

Modern hexes nowadays are strictly cast through group synchronization, a qualified band of three being the ideal number of participants. The first unit works on laying the proper groundwork, from harvesting the tremendous flux of mana necessary to calculating and compensating for any outside variables which may affect the spell's creation and overall effectiveness. The second's job is exclusively focused on molding the magic until it reaches materialized completion. The third is charged with suppressing the counterflow of excess energy during its unstable stages of preparation and is chiefly responsible for the party's supervision. What's more, the unit also serves as a liaison between each member involved, a task which will vary in difficulty depending on the whole group's compatibility.

All the mana gathers into a singular point high above the sage, and what starts off as a tiny speck grows into a colorless, distorted sphere looming in the sky, its size roughly ¼ the scale of the entire regional gorge.

Compressing all this mana while maintaining its integrity is too toilsome an undertaking with how he is now. Regardless, Tellah continues reading into the second set of verses and soon the sphere alters in color, deepening to a radiant violet, while its raw composition starts shifting into the purest of all lightning.

Amidst his concentration, Tellah notes a figure climbing up to the high-rising platform and sees that it's Rydia, the mercenary's charge, or to be more precise, a residential child from the Valley of Mist. Cecil must have sent her over here for her own safety, not knowing this is perhaps the most hazardous zone to be presently in.

She stands apprehensively, as far back as possible from the sage. A smart girl; despite neither being taught nor exposed to the arcane teachings of Mysidia, she's somehow subconsciously aware of the hex's instability, "Is this due in part to her lineage as a summoner? Perhaps they are simply more in tuned, better adept at picking up the slight subtleties within the property of all things mystic—"

Huge, meandering streams of electricity jump throughout the sphere's surface before drawing back into it fortunately. The sage grits back and reprimands himself; he should never have let his mind wonder for even a second. Already the pressure is beyond unbearable and protection must be placed before matters continue to fall out of his control.

After a series of chants, Tellah encloses his spread arms and several green-tinted wards begin encompassing the hex's outer perimeter. As soon as these glass-like reflectors are placed they are put to work, catching the stray bolts and recycling its dissipated mana back into the sphere where it will be materialized once. He continues his spell-casting, mindful about reinforcing any of the protective layer's heavily assailed segments.

43%.

51%.

58%.

64% spell completion.

By this time the floodwater has stopped pouring into the pond, yet even so the atmospheric distortion is causing the surrounding waters to ripple as if running away. The wards grow weaker in proportion with the hex's increasing power, and soon the sage can no longer keep up with the force of his own magic.

72%.

75%.

77%.

One of the wards shatters with a thunderous crush and a burst of light shoots up diagonally into the vacant sky. Tellah fears he has reached his limit, trying to squeeze out whatever reserves he may yet possess.

79%.

80%.

He uses his last ounce of mana to repair the tear yet three more wards break down in rapid sequence. It's extremely risky to release an incomplete hex, and in all good conscious Tellah knows he shouldn't. But the situation has already grown far too dangerous.

*DOOUM!*

A rumble shakes the very foundations of the wide, circular platform both he and Rydia reside on. This distinct sound, it can only be that of the Octomammoth's ramming attack. Yet now, its location has become a dead giveaway, "Truly, there can be no better timing."

The sage aims at the nearest corner of the pond and scrolls to the last incantation, ready to unleash the Great Magic Thundaja, but a voice shouts from far below and demands an unreasonable request, "Hold, Tellah!"

He sees Cecil, still by the sunken stone steps, as he scouts the pond area while submerged deep within its waters: well within ground zero of the hex's blast zone, "That fool..!"

*DOOOUUM!*

Tellah nearly crumples trying to rein back his magic while the unknowing mercenary swims closer to the area where the rumbling is heard, where it should be originating from. Yet despite his nearing proximity, he is neither assaulted nor engaged by the beast.

Cecil gazes up at him, his face wholly certain, "It's nowhere here!"

*DOOOOUUUM!*

The latest tumor causes one side of the platform to tip down, and the two mages stumble: three steps backwards into the tilt. Tellah turns away from the pond and looks to the lake. But regardless, he's still staring at the same body of water now flowing equally throughout the whole region.

*DOOUMMMMMMMMM!*

The fourth and final strike shatters the stone pillar and half of the platform topples into the lake. They're thrown off kilter by the jarring crash and the sage's precious parchment drops from his hand.

"No—!" he quickly crawls down and tries stopping the scroll from rolling into the waters below. But just as he's about to grab hold, Tellah feels has neck yanking back and halting his forward movement. He can see Rydia from the corner of his eyes pulling at his mantle with mighty strain, and a moment later a large banging tentacle smashes mere inches in front of him and rocks them both into the slanted ground.

Tellah glances up and sees the Octomammoth in all its glory, fully arisen and ready to bring forth the titanic mass of its limbs directly down upon them, but the danger it imposes is dwarfed by the flaring buzz of unchecked electricity emitting from the glowing eye in the sky.

The sage shields the caller just as a dynamical discharge shoots down and blows them clear away.

---

Dim awareness slowly returns yet Tellah hears nothing but white noise, that monotonous ringing disconnected from those wavy, overlaying frames of fuzzy still motion.

His eyes take in the sight of a large copper and blacken blur. Vaguely, he sees the Octomammoth as it reels and sways in mortal agony before crashing backwards into the lake with a spectacular splash.

He notes the child, Rydia, extremely close to him and vertically angled in an impossible direction. Tellah blinks, then he realizes it's his own perception which is curiously tilted.

Tug. Jerk. Push. Pull. Her muted mouth working, the caller seems to be doing anything and everything in her power to rouse him awake, to motivate him off the ground.

His eyesight drifts far away. He catches the distant figure of the mercenary frantically running along the land dike, mindless of the electrical surges spraying everywhere in the air. He shouts something, his face of utmost panic, yet the sage can scarcely hear.

"-k-u-..! Te-ah! Th-s-el-! Re-oke the -pell!"

Reflexively, the sage turns his eyes and looks overhead.

The beast has fallen. Now, they alone remain under the eye of the storm: and its gaze is staring directly at them.

This realization comes with a final flash and his vision washes away in a sea of instant white.

---

Light and fury assault the two mages, yet the feel of heaven's wrath is never brought down. The judgment bolt misses them by several yards and a great eruption blasts the waters right by the slowly sinking platform.

Even after witnessing it firsthand, the sage just can't believe his eyes. Over three decades he had been a prime scholar and chief researcher in the foundation of Mysidia's magecraft, so he better than anyone should know. For that thunderous bolt to have veered so sharply off its trajectory is simply infeasible; this goes beyond anything dumb luck can achieve and crosses straight into the realms of divine intervention.

Tellah shakes his head to clear his mind. No time now to think of the impossible as he looks up and sees all forms of lightning seep out from the wards' breakage, the entire protective layer on the verge of collapsing. He shakily stands, clamps his hands tightly together and retakes hold of the hex.

The sage chants in a hushed murmur as if in prayer, calling for the Great Magic's cancellation, and the colossal eye gradually shrinks. But more problems arise as his memory starts failing him, progressively blotting out bits and pieces of the verses crucial to the spell's abortion.

With each incorrect line spoken, the sphere of magic surges even more chaotically, and severe, meandering streams of lightning begin carving up the entire landscape. Tellah holds fast and hastens his words. And it's only when the flow of mana completely subsides does he dare look up.

The sphere is gone, leaving only the buzz of electrostatic to saturate the airspace. His energy spent, his knees buckle under him. Somehow, he has done it.

A huge splash erupts out of the waters and reveals the Octomammoth – still alive even after half of its face has been scorched to cinders. The caller reflexively turns towards the noise, blinking out of her daze just in time to flee up as far as the sinking platform will allow her. Yet Tellah, who's beyond exhausted, can neither escape nor break free from the tentacles snaking around his right wrist and thigh.

A powerful yank nearly draws his whole body into the waters, but a leaping shadow passes overhead, lands on top of the beast's face and drives the point of his sword directly into its one good eye.

"Go!" Cecil yells over the creature's crazed screeching and he twists the blade still lodged inside its socket, erecting a sick, wet sound as milky pus leaks faster from the gaping wound. The Octomammoth lets loose a ear-piercing shriek and bucks wildly, knocking him down. Depraved of its sight, it furiously reaches out and feels everywhere for its hated quarry.

He slashes at the advancing tentacles, holding his ground until Tellah is able to safely withdraw. However, no matter how many pieces of flesh and meat are hacked away, the persistent beast thrusts its able-bodied limbs onward; already it has been driven pass the point of pain and reason. Little resistance can be made after his sword arm is subdued and three more tentacles quickly constrain the mercenary. The sea creature dives back into the lake, dragging him down along with it.

Both mages stare into the now vacant space; it all happened so fast that it seems so surreal, and the sudden transition from chaotic to tranquil makes it all the harder to process. But the air bubbles ascending to the water surface validate everything.

Cecil is in the midst of drowning: and they can do nothing to stop it from happening.

Rydia still watches, unmoving and unblinking, while Tellah turns away and curses his own powerlessness, knowing that even in his prime, there was no magic in his forgotten arsenal that can rescue the mercenary.

A final gulp of oxygen bubbles up, then the waters become terribly calm.

"Come child, nothing more can be done here..." the sage says softly yet her only response is a slow then fierce shake of her head. He allows a few moments to pass before trying again, "Don't allow his sacrifice to be in vain."

"No..!" she cries out while turning her shoulders away from his touch. The sage can see her back quivering in a suppressed whimper and his sympathies go out to her; it must be difficult for one so young to witness death for the very first time.

Then, as if by a flick of a switch, the caller grows still in a snap instant. Believing her to have calmed down, Tellah reaches out once more but immediately recoils upon feeling a burning sting. The sage grips his frostbitten fingers while looking back at Rydia and notices the small cold puffs becoming more visible with each steady exhale. The atmosphere around the child has fallen well below the freezing point, how she's even surviving within it eludes him, and its area of effect expands until razor-thin layers of ice begins forming in patches on top of the water. He has no idea what she's aiming to accomplish here, but encasing the mercenary beneath the lake won't be helping matters any.

Rydia drops to her knees and the air gradually returns to normal; perhaps she has given up after realizing the futility of it all, "She tried her best. That is more than anyone can ask of her."

Tellah is about to take the crestfallen child away but something distracts him. Originating from the caller, a pale, opaque line is coloring the slanted ground and traveling downward. Upon hitting the waters, it instantly freezes a concentrated, circular portion and completely stops the remaining tip of the platform from sinking any further.

Even as the sage wanders in front of Rydia, her glazed eyes remain rooted on the icy spot and continue staring right through him like he isn't even there. Several seconds pass and a continuous sound akin to crinkling paper can still be heard, yet the surrounding environment seems unchanged and Tellah is unable to see where exactly the ice is forming from. It isn't until he comes to stand on top of the column of solid ice does he begin to realize.

A target section at the bottom of the lake is being frozen from the ground up, and a giant iceberg about 75 feet in diameter is rapidly rising to the surface, carrying with it both Cecil and the Octomammoth.

It emerges out of the waters, bobbing along with the waves, and the sage quickly guides the leftover electrostatic and fires, zapping the tentacles wrapped around its quarry.

The mercenary drops down, hacking and gasping for air, and Tellah pulls him a safe distance away before the beast can hammer him into the iceberg. He struggles to scramble back on his feet but the sage kneels, placing a hand on his shoulder and uttering a single word, "Patience."

His body sluggish and his senses dull, Cecil lies wretched on the ground and can do little more than obey. They both look straight ahead and lie witness to the beast, thrashing about and sending large chips of ice huddling in all directions. The ice's slipperiness provides no traction for the Octomammoth and it skids forward: right into the hole its pounding has made. The tiny ditch can't be more than 3 inches deep, yet it's enough to seal the sea creature's movement.

Seeing this, the mercenary tries standing in order to take quick advantage yet Tellah's hands remain firmly where they are, holding him down and keeping him in place, "Simply wait."

Baffled, Cecil nevertheless follows the sage's guidance and watches as the beast fight harder than ever. It isn't until several minutes have passed before he begins to understand.

Its thrashing dies down and another sound can be distinctly heard, one that's akin to heavy wind filtering through a damp, narrow duct. The noise comes from the creature's gills, pumping in and emptying out only the outside air. Water remains everywhere, yet its very lifeline has solidified into its prison as Octomammoth lies stranded within a hollow of its own making. It's an appropriate end for the beast who favored suffocating and drowning its victims until their dying breath.

With a last gasping intake, the Octomammoth shrivels up and expires without another sound.

Cecil stares at its still form for a little while longer before turning to him and rasping out, "Thank you, Tellah... It would have been the end of me if not for your aid."

"Though your gratitude is greatly appreciated, I believe much of it is misguided," the sage replies as he casts a meaningful glance towards the now unconscious caller.

"Rydia? You mean it was her?" Cecil asks, mildly stunned. Tellah nods and the mercenary pauses, as if not fully knowing what expression he should be making, "Is that so..."

The sage stands and glimpses up at the orange shaded skies, "Come. It has been an exhausting endeavor and much rest is required to replenish our strength."

With the child in tow, the two men backtrack and soon return to Tellah's campsite where the caller's white chocobo remains sleeping by his tent. He reignites the campfire with a simple spell while Cecil lays Rydia onto the side of the bird's big cushy body and sits crossed-legged besides her, his face etched with slight worry, "Do you know what might be wrong with her, Tellah? That is, if this lies within your expertise. Is it normal for someone her age to be fainting after casting such potent magic?"

The sage considers while taking a seat in front of the fire. His closest hypothesis is that the caller may be stricken with Mana Pool exhaustion. Yet even if her low mana pool was to be tapped completely dry, the subconscious mind places natural limiters that prevent any undo, premature stress on the body, which in turn should never allow the caller to pass out like this, "Tell me. Has this happened before?"

"... A similar incident had occurred, and she was comatose for a few days after."

"Then, let us pray that bed rest is all she requires. For I can find nothing amiss, or to be more accurate, I am unaware of the finer details which could drive her into such a state," Tellah responds as he readjusts his spectacles, "She is, after all, the first child of Mist I have ever seen outside its restricted boundaries."

"So, you've known all along," Cecil states, letting a little more of his guard down, and to which the sage nods.

"It was merely an inkling at first. Yet the more I observed her, the more I grew certain," Tellah answers, "I have encountered many who come from an extended line of arcane ancestry, and it is certain this child does not belong to any of those distinguishable families. I know of only one other place which facilitates such natural mystic potency without incurring any forms of notoriety, and that is those residing within Mist Valley."

His eyes grow distant while his features become wistful upon recalling the lost memory.

"Yes... It was 50 years ago to this day. Back then, I was still in apprenticeship and had been one of the two privileged youths to join in the expedition to the cryptic location, that small strip of land isolated from the rest of the free world. Mist had remained largely uncharted at the time, protected by a force field of unknown quantity that warded off would-be intruders from accessing the valley. The barrier itself had been harmless, yet effective in its ability to disrupt one's visual perception and sense of awareness.

It was astonishing. Mind-manipulation sorcery is extremely sensitive, much more so if the individual's psyche bears a similar human complexity, and a small miscalculation will cause immediate breakdown or bring about wild, unpredictable results. For the citizens of Mist to have always maintained such a sophisticated, wide spread hex around their borders: it truly had been an amazing feat. Only after months of trial and error did we succeed in producing a counter spell which could neutralize the barrier's effects for our entourage.

As one might expect, our forced entree was received unfavorably and our reception had been a little less than welcoming. Yet even still we offered a proposal for an equal exchange, to pool our collective knowledge together and share the secrets of our respective magecrafts for the betterment of both parties involved."

The sage's lax smile throughout his recollection soon dips into a repressed scowl.

"Much to our chagrin, however, the residents of Mist adamantly refused and grew deaf to all other compromises we had set forward. All they wished from us was our banishment from their village.

From that day onward, they had placed an even greater barrier, one which actively displaces any trespassers who enter a set radius and physically prevents their progress into the valley. And so once more, its residents returned to their sheltered, meager existence."

Tellah ruefully shakes his head as his flashback comes to an end. Even now, this past event remains one of his long lasting regrets. For someone like him, who has since gone on to transcribe countless scriptures and help unravel the mystic unknowns, the sage can only see their refusal to cooperate – their utter lack of action as wasted potential.

He supposes that's the fundamental difference which separates them. While Mysidia has always been an institute dedicated to the pursuit of higher learning, Mist seems more like a culture where magic is passed down merely for the sake of tradition. At least, that's the only answer which makes any sense to him.

"Ultimately, we did not achieve our primary aim, yet not all was proven futile. For example, though the scale is vastly smaller, the psychic barrier surrounding this very campsite and many other safe havens around the world are mass-produced replicas of Mist's warding hex, set now to a frequency which affects only the common monsters roaming those specified regions. The magical technique of group synchronization also stems from their influence, though our concept was created with neither form nor basis and is thus unlikely comparable to their own unique method. Even the inner workings behind the Serpent's Road are grounded on the properties of time/space magic, elements shared by the arcane art of summoning. Granted, it is highly improbable that the residents of Mist played any type of role in the portal's development. This does place into question, however, on where the technology truly originates from..."

"Might I ask a question?" Cecil finally interrupts, stopping the sage from going further into his off-beat tangent, "You spoke before of there being no relations between Mist and Mysidia. Then how is it possible for Rydia to even be performing black magic at all?"

"Ah, yes. Well, we can only hope to speculate. Though nothing is certain, there are quite a few possibilities. For one, there is always the chance that I was mistaken regarding the summoners' arcane progression, or they might have intentionally concealed the full range of their latent abilities. A separate magecraft similar to Mysidia's could have very well been constructed long before our untimely visit, which in turn would explain their outright refusal to collaborate with us. It is also possible that an outsider was accepted into their ranks and had since spread the mystic word amongst its people. Or perhaps what we just witnessed was some advance form or subdivision of summoning that does not require the presence of an eidolon in order to activate. Or it could be that this child is the lone exception, that she is just extraordinarily gifted in all areas pertaining to sorcery."

"A single person or a whole community... so it's comes down to either one or the other," the mercenary simplifies, looking as if he's weighed down by deeper matters, "Well regardless, I suppose nothing changes the fact that Rydia makes for an exceedingly powerful mage."

"... I see you are still misunderstanding one key factor. The might of her sorcery is indeed noteworthy, though nothing beyond the ordinary. Given enough time, research and practice, even beginners with low magic depositions can reach the heights she has displayed. But because this child is able to operate outside any known perimeters, they cannot hope to duplicate her success," he explains in the face of the mercenary's growing confusion. The sage considers for a moment before drawing attention to the kindling campfire, "Perhaps an example will better illustrate the point. As you are well aware, the fire here is one born of my own creation. Yet what would happen should I hold my hand above these flames?"

Cecil mulls the question over, perhaps thinking there's some sort of deeper meaning behind it, before he arrives at the logical conclusion, "You'll get burned of course."

Nodding, Tellah continues, "Our magecraft is one that merely guides the mana to its proper course. Once fully manifested, we cannot hope to take complete control, for the purest of magic is indiscriminate and will harm us as surely as any foe.

This is but one of the crowning principles, the boundaries which all magicians have come to know and must inevitably meet. Yet for whatever unforeseen circumstances, such an issue does not exist for this child. To put matters simply, her command over sorcery is at a level of intimacy we mages today are still very far from attaining."

Understanding begins dawning on the mercenary's face, though it's too mild a reaction for Tellah to believe he fully comprehends the magnitude of her unique scenario.

After seeing the caller's sorcery and the future prospect it can bring, even during his various discussions regarding magecraft, the sage realizes his own passion for the arcane arts hasn't dwindled in the slightest. Deep down, he harbors lingering regrets of having left that lifestyle behind.

Tellah closes his eyes, needing to remind himself once again, "Again. Never forget what is truly important now..."

His gaze opens and falls upon the caller, noting her motionless state lapse into a dreamless slumber.

"Softly asleep, hm?" Tellah observes. Her weight slowly leans to one side while she's dozing and her head taps into the mercenary's arm. Not wanting to disturb her, he doesn't bother moving and the slumbering child shifts around a bit to get more comfy, "She's quite fond of you I see."

Cecil sits there, a look of reluctancy passing over his face as he quietly questions, "Is she..? Does it really seem that way?"

"It does." Tellah states surely. He continues looking on and his eyes soften, "So much like Anna was..."

"Anna? And who might that be?"

"My daughter. There is little in the way of resemblance, yet gazing upon this child's face reminds me very much of her," a profound pause, then the sage wistfully continues on, "Yes... many long years have since passed. She had been so young then... If only she displayed but a fraction of what this child has shown, our lives perhaps could have played out so very differently... "

The sage blinks out of his recollection and offers Cecil his apologizes, "Forgive my nonsensical rumblings. Surely you would not be interested in hearing the tiresome life story of an aged old man."

"... There's still a long night ahead of us. If anything, it can do well to help pass the time."

He eyes the mercenary, feeling his words were not spoken lightly nor was it to satisfy his own curiosity. Tellah eases a bit, grateful for his consideration, "That, is perhaps very true. Well then...

Everything began nearly 2 decades ago, back when Anna was still little and our family still whole. We had all been living together in Mysidia where, due to my personal connections and influence there, she had qualified for a free scholarship and a reserved seat into the intermediate level of sorcery, provided she continue performing well in her classes.

Back then, it had been... unfathomable for me to think her incapable of achieving the proper results. She was born into a long lineage of magicians after all. So naturally, her deposition should be higher than most in her generation. But Anna never took her lessons to heart. She held no desires to carry on our family's legacy, her sole aspiration was to follow her own dreams of becoming a performing dancer.

All the signs had been there, yet I discarded them as little more than a child's whimsical play. It was her mother, Samantha, that later saw in our daughter what I could not. And as I continued driving Anna to excel in the path I wanted for her, I was doing nothing more than unwittingly pushing the both of them away.

Eventually, a nasty quarrel had ensued concerning the best course for our daughter's future. Spiteful words were exchanged in the growing heat of that argument and heartfelt feelings were crushed beneath them.

It was a moment in time that could never be taken back. Both Samantha and I separated soon afterwards, and she along with Anna moved back to her hometown of Kaipo while I remained in Mysidia."

The sage removes his spectacles and busies himself by wiping the lens sedately. Granted, that was just one of the many ongoing marital issues which had led to their fallout. But he, in his stubborn foolishness, did nothing to amend when time still allowed him that chance. Even if a court jury were to find him the least accountable for everything that had transpired, none of that really matters when you end up alone with only happier memories to haunt your solitary nights.

"5 years had come and gone in no time at all, and I received word from them at long last.

It had been a telegram, stating that my ex-wife had passed away due to the desert fever..."

Tellah pauses in his monologue, needing a moment to himself, before he finally places the spectacles back on his face.

"... I saw Anna for the first time in ages at the funeral ceremony. She had grown so much that I barely recognized her, yet she remembered all too well of me and affronted only cold hostility.

I knew matters must be taken delicately if we were to become a family once again, yet all my careful consideration and planning were so quickly laid to waste in the very first step.

At the legal adult age of 15, Anna could freely choose to live an independent lifestyle from there after. She had exercised that right upon refusing to fall under my custody, deciding to remain in Kaipo where the goodwill and support of Samantha's relatives would be there for her instead.

In that crucial moment, I had grown wise to her ways and realized what she had come to anticipate from me. And so, while standing in front of her mother's grave, I was left with either fulfilling those expectations or running counter against them," Tellah states with a bitter, sorrowful smile, "To choose between the continuing pursuit of my life's work or to wholeheartedly resume my parental responsibilities; you must think me atrocious to even contemplate the two."

Cecil grows passive, saying nothing of the matter. His silence says it all, however, and truthfully the sage can't blame him. He has since felt the same about himself from the very moment she came to be a part of his life again.

"Yes, I can understand. For a father to have always compromised his one and only daughter; it makes perfect sense then for Anna to scorn and rebel against me at every turn. Her favorite foods and certain allergies; her hobbies, dislikes and interests; her hopes; her dreams: all those minor, yet significant things were previously foreign to me and only then did I begin discovering."

The wrinkles around his face grow more profound and causes the sage to look decidedly older. To have realized this at so late a stage, he really is a hopeless case. Little by little, he had thought their stained relationship was being re-mended, that they were slowly becoming a family once again. Yet even now as her father, Anna disregarded his last true wish for her and ran straight into the arms of that dastardly man, leaving just a solitary note laying on her empty bedside.

Not a single, damnable thing has changed since that time. No matter how much he sacrificed or how hard he tried correcting his errant ways, he still doesn't mean anything at all to her.

"Because I was never the father figure she so deserved... because I would never consent to their wedlock. In retaliation, she had ran away to elope with that despicable bard."

"A bard..?" Cecil questions and the sage gravely nods.

"One who goes by the name of Edward. However, that is merely an alias, a false identity he assumed so that he could easily coax my daughter into his thieving clutches," Tellah replies with spiteful distaste, "Both the failings of the transport route as well as the sea creature's blockade of this gorge, it is by far and wide too large of a coincidence. I can only presume that wicked bard has somehow played his hand in all of this."

That's right. It's impossible for the sage to give his Anna away, not after he neglected so many of her childhood years, and especially not to that meek, useless bard who can do nothing more than prance around in dance and song. Love as sudden and fleeting as theirs will never survive. That's why he must stop his daughter from ever undergoing that same broken heartache at all cost.

Tellah takes his scepter in hand and rises to his feet. He may have only made mistakes one after another throughout his lifetime, but allowing Anna to marry that cowardly bard is an error that will never come to pass. On this he vows.

---

Even long after Tellah had retired for the day, the dark knight is left sitting in front of the campfire with much on his mind. The night drags on and finally he gives an onward sigh, deciding it's better to at least go inside his own tent and escape the damp, chilly air. He moves to stand, though that slight movement still causes Rydia to stir.

"Sorry. Did I wake you?" Cecil asks, though he's more thankful to see his ward responsive after only a few hours time.

The summoner motions with her head, but it was so miniscule that it's hard to say whether she gave a nod or a shake. Her misty gaze continues to rest on the kindling fire, drifting between the twilight of wake and dream.

"...nowhere here...

'cause of me...he died..?"

"Died? Because of her..?" the dark knight wonders in puzzlement, "Just who are you talking about?"

"...big...orangey...squidy..."

"I see... so you saw..." he murmurs in reply. Truthfully, Cecil isn't quite certain what this means for someone like her, a summoner who partners with sacred beasts freely at will, and he, like the countless veteran soldiers before him, has stopped giving much thought to the moral ambiguity of monster slaying. But regardless of age, race or gender, laying witness to one's first kill is sure to be an emotionally jarring experience. But for one who has already undergone so much; it seems needlessly cruel for her to be burdened with this as well, "It's not anything you could of prevented. So don't blame yourself..."

His first thoughts were to actually point out all the good she's done, that he's only alive because of her. But he just couldn't bring himself to utter those words: not to her.

Still, what he said was also the truth. Having sustained too many injuries, the Octomammoth would have probably died after a day or so even without her intervention. Yet that reason alone isn't enough for the young summoner and she continues grasping for the full meaning behind it all.

"...even if...he just wants to live..?"

Pausing, Cecil muses for an answer that will best satisfy her, "Whether they be man or beast, every living creature born on this earth shares that same instinct, and in that way we're no different from anyone or anything else. But cases of conflict will always exist, and only the correct course of action can be taken when those times arise."

"...then...he's the one who's wrong..?"

Again he gives pause, approaching the subject with delicacy, "Unfortunately, morality holds no place here, because we each carry our own selfish justifications for wanting to live. Yet also keep in mind, for that beast to survive, many more human lives would constantly need to be sacrificed."

"...it's that simple..?

just living hurts people..?"

Hearing her reply causes Cecil to hesitate, recalling a long forgotten time when everything inside his own little world was painted simply in either black or white, back when his concept of justice still coincided with everything that was good and right, "As sad as it is to say, that's simply the reality. No matter how much we might wish it not to be..."

"... so that's why...

everyone's gone..."

It's like slow-acting poison coursing through his bloodstream. Cecil can steadily feel his nerves seizing up on him, unconsciously aware of the terrible change in topic.

"...lots of people...must be hurting...if we all died...

it's the right choice...right..?"

His whole body turns rigid as if overcome with sudden petrification. It's too painful to hear; for what reason does the chief victim of Mist's tragedy have to be talking like this? And then everything he had said comes rushing back to him, "It's my fault... She hasn't even mourned yet, and yet she—It would of been far better if she just condemned me..."

"...but...

why am I..."

"Stop—"

"the only one alive..?"

"Just stop..!" he forcefully breaths out and his ward grows passive, if only momentarily.

"...then why..?

why did this happen..?"

She continues to question absently, trying to make some sense out of the broken pieces in her life. And here he is; the instigator who laid to ruin that very life, "... I may not know the reason, but I do know that we're the ones who were completely in the wrong. So don't ever try to justify this. Never think for a single moment that this was ever meant to be right. Promise me, alright?"

"...okay...

but cecil..?

... you're not making sense anymore..."

A soulful sigh escapes the dark knight; he just doesn't have the answers to anything anymore. If he was the type of man who can be truly satisfied with himself, then tales of boundless regret would have never inked the pages of his wrongful life, "Nowadays, I think that exact same thing too..."

Rydia grows quiet as slumber wins over and Cecil takes this opportunity to put her to bed. He returns to their spot and pauses, being sucked into the glow of the black red embers himself. Several beats pass, then he squats down and tosses in some loose dirt to smother the fire, and all becomes dark.

---

Morning arrives. The ice has melted overnight and the gorge once more regains its pristine state. The Octomammoth's body is nowhere to be found, sunken now at the bottom of the lake, and the dark knight thinks the better of it; he'd rather not have anything to remind Rydia of what transpired here.

The group travels onward through passages, tunnels, streams and everything else in between until they finally arrive above ground where huge dunes of sand await them. And there, along the horizon, the castle of Damcyan can scarcely be seen. But even though they can't properly see from this distance, something about it appears very wrong.

*—tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut—*

Both Rydia and Tellah curiously look up and about, wondering what that increasing, motor-beating noise is and where it's coming from. But the dark knight already knows and is left standing stunned; it's an all-too-familiar sound that he can never mistaken nor forget in his entire life. He gazes fast towards the heavens and locates the source almost immediately.

The might of the Red Wings Fleet hovers high above Damcyan, and the cargo bay for each ship begins opening in unison. Tiny specks drop down, whistling from the sky, and land with an earth-shattering explosion. After the dust settles, the desert kingdom is no more.