The Saga of the Seven Espers: Prologue

Description: Every story has a beginning. It began with a war. It began with a spell. It began with a birth, with a death, with a dream, with a nightmare. Every story has a beginning. This is how this story began.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Square-Enix and/or Disney.

The Sorrowful Husband

Fifth, the husband, silent sorrow
Fills the ocean, bitter tears
Sends his son to rule tomorrow
Puts his faith in coming years

xXx

1722 M.T.

Somehow, the three of them had managed to stay up long past the hour when all normal folk were asleep. It was probably, the youngest of them supposed as he leaned back in his chair, because Jecht had so many stories to tell and Braska was always so willing to listen. He and Braska had traveled for many days to visit their friend's home, and Jecht had taken his duty as host very seriously. The food had been excellent, the wine even more so, and the conversation had not flagged for a second. Even the rebellious attitude of Jecht's teenaged son had not dampened the trio's spirits, Braska going as far as to joke that that would be him and his daughter in ten years. This night, however, the young warrior, guardian protector for his country's finest sorcerer, was ready to excuse himself and retire.

With the thought of bed and sleep comfortably in his mind, he prepared a breath to speak, but before he could release it, a wave of magical pressure crashed over the house, shaking its foundations with a low rumbling noise. Startled, he clutched the armrests of his chair, riding out the tremors with rapidly mounting anxiety. Once the shaking had stopped and the house had once again fallen into quiet, he leapt to his feet and glanced about, all fatigue instantly gone.

"What was that?" he asked the most magically knowledgeable of their group.

Braska had risen the moment the wave had passed and crossed quickly to the window. Frowning with worry, he gazed out upon the town and the far-off castle. "I'm not sure," he responded.

"Sir!" a new voice, low and gruff, interrupted them. "Are you all right?"

Jecht's manservant had appeared in the doorway. The tall man wore the normal blank expression of an attendant waiting for orders, but the young guardian could see the anxiety sparking in the man's dark eyes.

"Yes, Kimahri," Jecht began, turning to him, "we're all --"

"A curse!" Braska suddenly shouted, surprising them all. "It's a curse, and it's coming this way." He pivoted away from the window and fished out a stick of chalk from his robe. As he dropped to his knees and began to mark the floor, the young warrior's heart clenched in a sudden fear. The three of them had encountered many curses before, most of which Braska had neutralized with a simple wave of his hand, but never had he seen anything, curse or otherwise, cause his friend and master to react with such volume or such urgency. He strode to the window to see for himself.

"We must move quickly," Braska said as he did so. "Someone must fetch young Tidus immediately!"

The tall man in the doorway was gone before either of the remaining men could speak. While Jecht paced restlessly, the young warrior gazed out the window in shock and horror. A great cloud of purple and green smoke had risen from a large manor on the other side of the town, and it was spreading rapidly to cover everything in sight. Even as he watched, its dark tendrils reached the royal castle and began to rise up the great white walls, spreading darkness over the entire structure. It was so unlike anything that he had seen before that he was stunned that Braska had been able to identify it as a curse. To him, it looked like a shapeless demon, come to devour all the light and life in the world.

"All those people," he whispered, gripping his sword even though he knew it could do nothing. "What's happening to them?"

"I don't know," Braska answered distractedly as he worked. "I've never seen a curse like that before. So large. So fast." His fingers flew across the floor, drawing intricate symbols with the crumbling chalk. "Get inside the circle quickly!" he ordered both men. "It'll be here any minute."

The younger man quickly complied, but Jecht turned and began taking several steps away from the circle and safety. "Kimahri! Hurry!" he yelled. His feet continued to move, towards the door and the stairs that led to the second floor.

The warrior's heart clenched again, this time with the knowledge of what was about to happen. Desperate to save the older man from himself, he dashed across the open space between them and grabbed onto his muscular arm. "No!" he cried. "You mustn't go! You won't make it back in time!" He threw all of his weight backwards, forcing the pair to stumble across the chalk line and into the safety of the magical circle.

Once he had regained his balance, Jecht turned his fierce dark eyes on him, baring his teeth in a wild grimace. The man's anguish and fear over his son were painfully apparent. The younger man braced himself for retaliation, either verbal or physical, but before the elder could do or say a thing, a dome of sparkling white light rose into existence around them, anchored to the ground by the chalk markings on the floor. They turned to find Braska sitting on the ground, cross-legged, his hands pressed against each other and glowing with the power of his strong magic. The sorcerer's calm eyes were full of regret as he gazed at them. "I'm sorry, Jecht," he whispered.

"No!" Jecht cried, but he stopped his instinctive lunge towards the dome's edge as the sound of feet rapidly descending the stairs reached them. In the next second, Kimahri appeared in the doorway, carrying a protesting Tidus over his shoulder. At the sight of the magical barrier, the manservant paused, unsure of what he should do.

At that moment, the curse arrived. The window shattered. Braska leapt to his feet and reached out a hand, opening a temporary hole in the barrier. His face set with determination, Kimahri planted his feet and threw Tidus towards the opening with all his strength. Jecht caught his son, the pair of them tumbling to the floor, and Braska resealed the barrier just as the wave of smoke engulfed them, covering the entire room with swirling darkness and swallowing the loyal servant completely.

"Kimahri!" the young guardian cried as the man disappeared. Despairingly, he ran up to the very edge of the sparkling dome and searched the thick fog, but he could see nothing of the servant's fate. The mass of purple and green hung heavy in the air, remaining impenetrable even as it moved and shifted. He stared at it in sorrow and hopelessness. He had no doubt that the four of them within this barrier were the only ones in the country who had remained safe. Whether the others were dead or just cursed, he did not know, but either way an entire nation had fallen in the span of a few minutes. The destruction was simply unfathomable.

"What happened?" he whispered to the tendrils of mist that seemed to reach for him as they swirled and tumbled. "Great God and Goddess, Lord of Darkness and Lady of Light, what happened?!?"

Slowly, he sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

An hour passed, and then a second, and still the curse that surrounded them did not disperse or even thin. Young Tidus had curled up next to the dome, as far from his father as possible, and fallen asleep, and even Jecht had stretched out on his back with his hands behind his head. The younger warrior, however, could not find it within himself to rest. A terrible foreboding had gripped him and kept his heart prisoner. He trusted Braska completely and believed in the man's strength, and yet he could not help but feel that they would not be able to escape this curse. Something within him kept telling him that they would not live to see the coming of the morning sun.

The sorcerer had spent the previous two hours in deep concentration, trying to analyze the curse and discover a way to counteract it, but as the third hour passed the half-way mark, he sighed and shook his head. The worried expression on his face slowly turned to one of resignation.

"Auron, Jecht," he said.

His guardians both looked to him, and Braska offered them a small, tired smile.

"This is hopeless," he pronounced. "This curse is the strongest I have ever seen. I cannot find a single weakness in it, nor can I determine how long it will be in effect. It may linger here for days, even weeks. Far longer than I will be able to hold this barrier. We cannot simply wait it out."

"Then what should we do?" Jecht asked, sitting up and leaning forward. "Just give up and accept whatever it is that's out there?"

"Not quite," the sorcerer replied, shaking his head slightly. "I have been thinking about what I can do, and I do have an option available to me. However …" He paused and fixed his calm gaze on each of them in turn. "I can only save two of you."

The young guardian choked on his own breath and stared at his master in dumbfounded horror. Such a terrible pronouncement to be forced to make! The hope that had surged in his chest at the possibility of an option died away.

"What will happen to the other two?" Jecht was asking, his expression suddenly somber. "Take their chances with the curse?"

"No," Braska answered easily. "I and whoever stays with me shall die. The curse will not touch us." When more questions appeared to be coming, he held up one hand for silence and, with the other one, pulled at a chain that lay around his neck. The pendant came free from its hiding place beneath his clothes, and he held it out for the other two to see. "I believe the three of you have never met," he said with a little smile.

The young guardian stared in wonder and awe at the small stone that lay in the sorcerer's palm. Its completely black surface glittered in ways that had nothing to do with the sparkling light surrounding them. "That's Magicite," he breathed.

"It is," Braska replied. "His name is Sin, although he has deigned to tell me little else."

"Can you manifest him?"

"I cannot. He did, however, teach me the ways to use his magic." Gently, Braska detached the stone from the chain around his neck and held it loose in his palms. "I propose," he stated, "to borrow Sin's powers and send two of you through the currents of magic that flow within the earth to arrive back in our homeland. The trip should be without pain and almost instantaneous. You will be safe, far away from the curse that lingers here."

Surging forward to rest on his knees, the younger man demanded, "Why can you not go as well? Why can you only send two of us?"

Braska smiled at him, a tender expression that tore at his heart. "I cannot go because I must manipulate the spell. I am not powerful enough to direct it while being affected by it. Also, trying to transport myself would be a worthless endeavor. This spell will require all my energy. All of it, Auron, including my life energy." His smile saddened and he looked down at the stone in his hands. "I will not survive it."

Stricken, the warrior collapsed forward onto his hands. "But …" he stammered. "… but …"

"As to why I can only send two of you," Braska continued, pretending not to notice, "that is because one must stay here to assist me." A pained expression crossed his face as he closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly. "I will need all of my energy to perform this spell," he explained in a low voice. "That includes the energy that keeps this barrier intact. If I attempt the spell without it, it will very likely fail, but if I remove the barrier first, I will not have enough time to cast the spell before the curse falls upon us. Therefore, I will need one of you to volunteer to strengthen the barrier for me."

"Strengthen it?" Jecht echoed, his voice and face without emotion. "How?"

Braska winced, and when he spoke, it was barely a whisper. "With … your soul. You must … merge with the barrier. Then, I will be able to withdraw my power and use it elsewhere."

"I see," Jecht said tonelessly. Suddenly, he was on his feet, expression determined. "I'll do it," he stated. "Send Auron and Tidus to safety."

"What?" the youngest cried, half-rising from the floor. "No! You can't!"

"Are you sure, Jecht?" Braska asked him, his gaze steady.

"Yes, I'm sure. This is my home, my country. You're being kind enough to save my son. The least I can do to apologize to you as well as repay you is this."

"No!" he near-screamed, voice cracking. "No! There must be another way! There must!"

"Auron," Braska interrupted, soft and gentle, "there is no other way. At least, none that we can find with the time we have been given. I have already lost over two hours worth of magic. If we hesitate, I will only lose more."

Jecht's large hand descended upon his shoulder and pulled him up into a standing position beside him. "Auron," the older man said solemnly, "take care of Tidus for me."

"Don't do this, Jecht," he begged, taking the other man by the front of his shirt. "Don't throw your life away like this. Both of you, don't do this!"

Beside them, Braska stood and continued to smile. "There is no shame in giving your life to save another's, Auron. Didn't you vow to do the same when you became my guardian? Though you offered to protect me, I shall protect you instead." He stepped forward and removed one of the hands that gripped Jecht's shirt, taking it instead in his own. "If you could," he added, "I would appreciate it if you could look after Yuna for me as well."

His eyes burning with threatening tears, the young man looked between his two closest friends before dropping his head and his hands in resignation. "Of course I will," he swore to them. "I will protect both of your children with my life."

"Thank you," Braska replied. Jecht merely nodded and clapped him on the back once.

While the other two men prepared for the spell that would claim both of their lives, the youngest of them walked over to the teenager's side and miserably sat down next to him. The boy was still sleeping, although fitfully as if troubled by unpleasant dreams. He lightly placed a hand on the boy's elbow, not knowing exactly what was involved in the upcoming transportation. As he did so, a thin bubble appeared around the pair of them, and he looked up in surprise to find Braska smiling at him, the gently glowing Magicite resting in his hand. Jecht was, he realized with a jolt that sent him reeling, already gone.

In the moments that followed, when the world became distorted through a film of water and right before his vision blacked out, the warrior and guardian focused solely on Braska's small, sincere smile. The sorcerer looked magnificent in his final moments, his entire body glowing with pure, powerful magic, the Magicite floating in the air between his lifted hands. There was no fear on his face and no regret, only peace. It made the younger man want to cry out to him, but he held his tongue, forcing himself to simply watch and burn the memory of the incredible man into his mind.

Then, he was moving, falling, spinning and hurtling through absolute darkness. The varying pressures pushed and pulled at him, making him disoriented as he was buffeted about. He could hear nothing but the sound of rushing as he flew through the currents, and he fought to keep his grip on the teenager at his side. Several times, he cursed himself for not grabbing onto the boy more tightly beforehand, but he felt certain that he would be able to hold onto him until their trip ended. Then, in an instant, a bump, a twist, a pull, and the boy was gone. He screamed the other's name, but even his own voice did not reach his ears through the rushing, roaring noise. Frantically, he searched as best he could, but he could see nothing but darkness, hear nothing but wind, and feel nothing but despair as he continued on his journey, alone.