Final Fantasy XIII
Grace Barton
Chapter Two
With a yell, Lightning brought her sword down upon the barrier. The blade flashed and bounced off, emitting a small shower of sparks that fell around her.
In front of the door, the Pulsian symbol glowed and then went dark. Each time Lightning had struck the door, this symbol had flashed as though in defiance, barring her entry. Lightning rubbed her shoulder and then hit the door again.
A few feet behind her, Sazh crouched against the wall and sighed. The soldier had been at this for almost ten minutes now, trying to force her way into the Vestige. He thought she would have given up by now and looked for another way in, but she remained determined. No matter what, she would get inside.
There were few soldiers around the base of the Vestige. Sazh was surprised at this, until Lightning had pointed out that no one would want to be this close to a Pulse fal'Cie. Anyone with an ounce of sense would stay well away from it.
So what does that say about us, Sazh wondered. While everyone else was trying to get away from the Vestige, he and Lightning were trying to get in.
Lightning had said she was going after the fal'Cie, but she had not given a reason why. On that note she remained completely silent, leaving Sazh to speculate as to her ultimate goal. At first he thought it was arrogance: she was a skilled soldier, so did she consider herself powerful enough to take on a fal'Cie? But no. Despite the soldier's aloof and secretive attitude, he did not get the impression of her.
Was it compassion then? Did she intend to seek out the fal'Cie and ask it to leave Cocoon in peace and put an end to the killing? Sazh shook his head. That did not seem like her either.
Eventually he ran out of ideas and contented himself to watch her trying to break through the Vestige's barrier. Though mere energy, her sword bounced off the barrier as though it had struck a solid surface. Each blow jarred her, he could tell, but she kept at it.
Finally, though, Lightning stopped striking and lowered her sword. She lifted her gaze and looked up at the building.
"Still won't budge?" Sazh asked, getting to his feet. "I think the door is winning."
Lightning ignored him. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she tore her eyes away from the Vestige. "Why didn't I listen?"
"Uh, beg your pardon?" asked Sazh.
Again, Lightning paid no attention. She stepped forward. The barrier vibrated with a gentle pulse, making her skin tingle and the hair on her arms rise. "It was me," she whispered, and she clenched her fist. "This is my fault." Her face twisted in pain.
"Beg your pardon?"
Lightning relaxed her hand. When she looked up again, her face was once again a mask of cold indifference. Whatever feelings had overwhelmed her, she had pushed them aside. "Cover your ears," she ordered.
Sazh blinked in confusion and then opened his eyes wide. "Oh, blast charge?" he said as he guessed her intent. "Hold on, hold on."
He ran back several feet, putting a good distance between himself and the door. He threw himself onto his knees and clamped his hands over his ears.
"All right," he shouted, "go for it! Make it happen!"
Lightning turned back to the Vestige. She looked up at it. The great structure loomed above her, looking eerie in the greenish spotlights that were on it at all times. Returning her attention to the door, the soldier reached out her hand and laid it upon the barrier. A ripple of light shimmered across it, causing her fingers to tingle. Her mask slipped again and Lightning closed her eyes.
"I'm so sorry. Please let me in. Please?"
As if hearing her words, the barrier shielding the Vestige lifted. Lightning stepped back from the door as it rose, permitting her entry.
Hearing the door open, Sazh jumped to his feet. "What the—hey!" he exclaimed, pointing at the door in amazement.
Lightning sheathed her sword. Once more the mask had returned to her face. "Right," she said, mostly to herself.
Sazh ran over to her. "What did you—how'd you open it?" he demanded.
He tried to move in front of her, but Lightning thrust out her arm and stopped him in his tracks. Sazh waited for her to say something, but she did not. Instead she walked through the open doorway, taking the lead.
"After you," the pilot said, a little miffed, and then walked in after her.
Once inside, the door closed behind them. It closed with such finality that Sazh grew nervous, as though now they were inside the Vestige intended on them to say. He put that down to his frayed nerves, and hurried to stay close to Lightning.
They entered a long ambulatory. The corridor was empty apart from a trio of Pantherons at the other end. Lightning stopped and grasped her sword. The hounds were lying down, as if waiting for their masters to return.
"In here too, huh?" said Sazh, pulling out his guns.
Lightning drew her gunblade. "Seems like it," she said.
There was no way to sneak around the hounds. At a nod from Sazh, Lightning drew herself up and charged.
The Pantherons saw her approach and jumped up. Lightning leapt over the first one and struck down the ones behind it taking them out in two swift blows. Sazh, meanwhile, took out the first one, shooting it down before it had a chance to turn.
But the Pantherons were not military units to be found in the Vestige. Zwerg Scandroids – the strange little units found elsewhere in the Vestige—also roamed the ambulatory halls. There was even a Myrmidon, much to Sazh's dismay. Like the Pantherons this enemy also could not be avoided, leaving them no choice but to fight their way through.
Once they had defeated the Myrmidon, which had been guarding a set of stairs, the pair made their way up. Lightning again took the lead, with Sazh trailing close behind her.
"If those things are still around, might be some soldiers trapped in here, too," he said, glancing back at the mech. "Except they'd probably be l'Cie by now. Not even human anymore. Just Pulse l'Cie. Enemies of Cocoon." He sighed. "Can't show 'em any mercy."
Lightning stopped. Though Sazh could not see, her face was twisted again into an expression of pain. Her hands clenched. She knew very well what a Pulse l'Cie was, and how much Cocoon feared them.
She knew very well.
While Lightning and Sazh were making their way through the Vestige's lower halls, Snow was continuing his own exploration of the upper levels.
He had nicknamed this area the 'House of Stairs', for the simple reason that that was all there seemed to be in this strange place. Each time he activated an altar the stairs began to shift and turn, giving him access to places he couldn't get to before while taking others out of his reach. Sometimes the altars summoned a platform, allowing him to descend to another level.
He had not found Serah yet, but he was not daunted. She was in here, somewhere, of that he was sure. Every shift of the stairs brought him one step closer to finding her. All he had to do was keep going forward and, eventually, he would find her. Then they could leave the Vestige together, and go back home.
"There's the next one," he said aloud as he spotted another altar in the middle of the hall.
But this altar had guards. A Pantheron and two Zwerg Scandroids hovered around it, though they had not noticed him yet.
"I guess PSICOM made it this far, at least," Snow guessed.
He assessed the situation. It was three against one; not bad odds under normal circumstances. But he did not have Gadot or Lebreau to back him up, and he had run out of grenades as well. He also had no Potions, so he could not heal any injuries he sustained. However, that altar was the only way forward. No matter what, he had to get to it.
"In that case," he said with a grin, "I'll just have to make sure I don't get hurt!"
His mind made up, he ran towards the altar. The Pantheron spotted him at once and ran towards him. Snow punched the hound as it leapt at him and sent it flying back. It hit the altar and fell to the ground.
His clash with the Pantheron drew the attention of the Scandroids. A beam of light emanated from the narrow bars on their faces, scanning him. After processing his data, they waddled forward. Amazed that the PSICOM engineers had even designed these little droids, Snow stepped up to them and snatched them up. The two droids wriggled and beeped in his hands, confused. Snow held them both out and then brought them together, crushing them in his grasp.
Dropping their remains to the ground, he turned his attention back to the Pantheron. The hound was on its feet again, but instead of attacking it stayed where it was. Snow spread his feet and crouched, gesturing for the mech to come and attack him. But the hound did not move. It remained rooted to the spot, waiting for him to make the first move.
Snow grinned. "Fine," he said. "I'll bite. Here I come!"
He ran. When he swung his fist, the Pantheron jumped back out of reach. It lunged and snapped its jaws, trying to catch Snow's hand before he could pull it back. But Snow expected the counterattack and pulled back just in time. Dropping into a low crouch he swung his leg out and struck the Pantheron's forepaws. Caught off-guard, the Pantheron yelped and fell forward.
Not waiting for it to recover, Snow leapt onto its back. Grabbing its head in his hands, he twisted it to the side. The hound resisted and bucked its back, trying to throw him off. Snow clamped his legs around it and held it down. He gritted his teeth and tried to twist the head again. The hound's jaws snapped, but the fighter kept his fingers out of its reach. After one final tug, the neck snapped. Its power supply cut off, the hound powered down and sagged beneath him.
Snow turned his attention back to the altar. As expected, the crystal's green light turned orange when he touched it. Hearing a hum ahead, Snow raised his gaze and saw a floating platform descend to his level. "All right," he said, and hurried over to it.
Before jumping on, Snow took a moment to look up. The many levels of the Vestige hung over him. Somewhere up there, Serah was waiting for him. He jumped onto the platform, and it began to descend.
"Hang on, baby!" he called. "Your hero's on the way!"
"Hang on, baby! Your hero's on the way!"
Lights lit up long the ceiling. Beams came down and connected with corresponding altars on the ground. Hope and Vanille looked up as the path alongside the platform where they stood rumbled. A set of stairs rose from the ground, joining their platform to the path.
Ignoring the stairs for now, Hope raised his gaze and looked up at the ceiling, where the voice had come from. "He is here," he realised. "Calling himself a hero…" He clenched his hands. He felt sick.
A red glow shone overhead. At the end of the corresponding path, a red Pulsian symbol glowed over a large doorway. It faded away even as they watched, leaving the door unguarded.
Vanille turned back to Hope. "He's coming our way," she said.
The anger in Hope's face faded, turning to fear. "What should I do?"
"Tell him what you need to!"
"But," Hope hesitated, "nothing I say will change what happened."
Vanille folded her arms. "We could just run away," she suggested.
Hope looked down. Running away… It was tempting. Coming here had been an act of rashness—a mistake. He should have stayed with the other survivors. Seeing his mother die, and now being here… it was too much to face.
He nodded.
Grabbing his hand, Vanille led him over to the stairs. She seemed to know where she was going despite never being here before, so Hope allowed her to lead him on.
The doors at the end of the path opened automatically as they approached. They led into a long, dark tunnel, with a single set of doors on the other end. Though Vanille walked with confidence, Hope felt a pang of nervousness. What if the door didn't open? Suppose the door behind them closed again, trapping them inside? He shook his head, trying to ignore those thoughts.
His fears were unfounded. The door behind them stayed open, and the door ahead slid open as they neared it. They walked through and entered a large, open hall, with a single path leading forward. Here Vanille paused and looked around, gathering her bearings. After a moment she nodded and headed down the path.
"Do you even know where we're going?" Hope asked, still behind her.
"Of course," Vanille replied. "This is the Oblatorium."
"The Oblatorium…"
"It's where offerings are made."
"How do you…?"
Vanille stopped. After looking around, she pointed off to the side. There Hope saw plates of rotted food and clothing bunched up on flat-topped altars on either side of the path. "See those?" she said. "Those are offerings to the fal'Cie. Therefore, this must be the Oblatorium."
Now she turned and pointed back the way they came. "That room we were just in was the Sacrarium. That's a place where sacred objects are held."
"Sacred objects? Like that staff?"
Vanille pulled out the staff and held it out. "Exactly. Someone must have left it there. Those platforms we saw were altars, meant to hold sacred objects. I guess this one just sort of… fell off!" She laughed.
But Hope looked unconvinced. "How can a staff be sacred? It's just a stick."
A look of frustration crossed Vanille's face, but she quickly suppressed it. "Have you ever seen a staff like this?" she asked him.
"Well, I… …No."
Now Vanille looked smug. "Well, then!" she said. "Then surely it must be sacred. Otherwise no one would have left it here!"
Despite her logic, Hope still was not convinced. He shook his head. Sacrariums, Oblatoriums… They were just rooms. What they held made little difference. In the end this was a building from Pulse. To call anything from Pulse 'sacred' was just… insane. Nothing sacred came from Pulse.
"Let's just keep going," he said, brushing past Vanille and heading down the path. Vanille watched him go. She looked down at the staff in her hands. Folding it up, she slipped it back onto her pelt and then hurried to catch up with him.
The Oblatorium was quieter than the Sacrarium, with no sign of any PSICOM units. In fact there was no sign of life of any kind, except for themselves. There was also no sign of a way out yet Vanille walked on with confidence, as though she had walked these halls many times before.
Ahead of them, a set of stairs rose up to a central platform. Three other paths branched off from this, making the platform a central crossroad. Hope followed Vanille up the steps, and for the first time since entering the Vestige, he looked around. The walls of the Vestige rose high on either side of him, seeming to go so high they merged into the ceiling.
"Whoa," he breathed, turning his head.
Despite its origin, the Vestige was truly a spectacular sight. Everything was so different, so alien, and yet it was also… welcoming. It was as though some part of him almost wanted to be here. The thought filled him with horror, and he tried hard to ignore it. Instead he thought of the fal'Cie, waiting somewhere within these walls, watching them…
Vanille let out a gasp, bringing his attention back to their immediate surroundings. He stopped behind her as she pointed ahead, her face pale.
He heard them before he saw them. Deep, chilling roars echoed through the hall, seeming to come from everywhere at once. It was an inhuman sound, terrible and frightening. Hope shivered.
What he saw was even worse. Three creatures were approaching a set of energy barriers at the end of the northern path. They were humanoid in shape, but that was as far as the similarities went. Their bodies were black, their flesh wasted and stretched tight over elongated, jutting bones. On each of them one leg had grown longer than the other, causing them to limp as they moved, though they did not seem to notice. Their torsos appeared to have been ripped open to expose their ribcages. In place of hearts there were glowing red crystals, beating in gentle pulses of light. Their faces looked as though they had been ripped off their bodies. There were no eyes, no nose and no mouths—at least none that were visible. Hope figured they moved through sense alone.
The creatures reached the barriers. Instead of stopping, they kept on moving forward. When they came into contact with the barrier it flashed, and they passed right through. Hope started to step back when Vanille gasped and pointed again—this time to the left. More of the creatures were passing through another barrier. More followed from the right-side path as well. There were seven in total, and all were approaching the central platform.
"What are they?" asked Hope.
"Cie'th!" Vanille explained. She reached for her staff. "L'Cie who failed! This is what happens—when l'Cie don't complete the Focus the fal'Cie gave them."
The Cie'th—known as Ghouls—ambled up the stairs and spread out around the pair. Hope stepped back until he bumped into Vanille, who was also backing up. He looked to the path they had come by, but it was already blocked by Cie'th.
They were trapped.
A yell sounded behind the Cie'th. Hope and Vanille both turned in surprise as Snow came barrelling up behind the Cie'th. He threw himself against the first one, knocking it off-balance and forcing his way through to the centre. He stood in front of Vanille and Hope, spreading his arms wide to shield them.
"Let's even these odds!"
Vanille drew her staff. Hope hesitated before pulling out his boomerang and flicking it open. He looked at it and then up at Snow, his eyes narrowing.
It's him…
The other Ghoul had recovered now and re-joined its companions. Yet it did not stay up for long as Snow darted forward and threw himself against it again. Despite its ferocious appearance the Ghoul went down easily, and a few short whacks were all that was needed to make sure it stayed down.
Swinging her staff, Vanille sent the cables flying through the air. They latched onto two Ghouls at once. With one sharp yank she dragged them to the ground, where Snow finished them both off with his powerful fists.
Still hesitant about fighting, Hope backed away from the Cie'th. One Ghoul walked up behind him and roared. Hope spun around and gasped in horror at the sight of its ghastly face looming over him. Even without eyes the monster seemed to peer straight through him, as though it could see his soul within his body. Even without words, Hope felt the loathing and hunger emanating from its body. It hated him, and it hungered for his soul.
The Ghoul raised its arms. Each one ended in an oversized hand with six-inch nails ready to tear his skin open. In a panic Hope flung his boomerang. It struck the monster on the shoulder and bounced off. The Ghoul shook its head, its neck cracking, and continued to advance.
Hope backed up. Remembering the boomerang's radio-control, he activated it and guided the weapon back towards himself and the Ghoul. It struck the Cie'th at the base of the neck. There was a ripping sound, and a second later its head dropped onto the floor.
"Wha—!?" Hope cried. Nausea overwhelmed him and he fell to the ground, fighting to keep from vomiting.
A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders. Hope struggled and fought, but Snow kept hold of him and turned him around.
"Keep your head, kid!" the fighter said. He picked up the boy's boomerang and placed it in Hope's hand. He looked down at the headless Ghoul, which collapsed next to its head. "Pretty lethal, that toy of yours," he remarked, and then turned away to face another enemy.
Hope stared after him, his face a mixture of anger and fear. Pain shot through his hand, and he realised that he was squeezing the boomerang blade. His eyes bored into Snow's back as he fought against the Cie'th. Hope raised the boomerang, his eyes still on Snow. Then he turned away and hurled it at another Ghoul.
There were only three Ghouls remaining. Snow ducked as one Cie'th attacked him with its long claws. The claws snagged his trench coat and brushed his skin. A superficial wound, Snow thought. The monster tried to reach for him again but this time he was ready. Dodging to the side, Snow stuck out his foot and tripped it. When the monster staggered, he elbowed it in the back and shoved it over the rail.
Vanille's staff whirred as the cables flicked through the air. Wrapping around the torso of the Ghoul in front of her, she tugged it until the beast fell to its knees. It roared, straining against the bonds. At a nod from her, Snow ran in front and punched his fist at the crystal in its chest, which he guessed to be its heart. His guess proved right, for as the crystal smashed the monster groaned and dropped to the ground.
Now only Hope's opponent remained. Using his boomerang, Hope sent the weapon flying around it in wide arcs. The blade cut into the rotted flesh, slicing deep wounds, but did not seem to stop it. The Ghoul continued to advance on him, as though it did not even notice the damage. Even when Hope used the boomerang to slice off its arm, it kept on coming.
His back hit a wall. Hope looked behind him and gasped when he saw the rail. He was cornered. Turning back he directed the boomerang back towards the Ghoul, trying to repeat his previous attack by slicing off its head. But the Ghoul had learnt, it seemed, and ducked beneath the blow. His courage failing, Hope began to tremble. He closed his eyes, waiting for death.
Cables whirred in the air. They wrapped around the Ghoul and snapped tight.
"All right!" said Vanille. She reined in the cables, dragging the Ghoul away from Hope.
When it was far enough away, Snow charged in. Like he did with the other Ghoul, he smashed the crystal heart with his fist. The Ghoul stiffened and then dropped to the ground. Hope watched as the monster then began to dissolve, as though some spell had been released and allowed it to rot at last.
Letting out the breath he had been holding, Hope sank to the ground. He felt sick and faint. He closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths of air.
Snow stepped over the dissolving remains of the Cie'th and looked at Hope and Vanille. "How did you get in here?" he asked the pair. "You've gotta leave?"
Vanille looked down at Hope. The boy sat frozen on the ground, his hands clenched into tight fists. Meeting Snow's gaze, she blushed and gave a nervous laugh.
Snow shook his head and sighed. "Okay, listen," he said. "Find someplace to hide and keep quiet. Once I find Serah, we'll all leave together." He strode past Vanille, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "You'll be home in time for dinner," he said.
Hope crawled around to face him. "You—" he began.
"Wait!" Vanille interrupted, cutting him off. Snow stopped and looked back at her. "Who's Serah?" she asked, hesitant.
A smile touched Snow's lips. "My wife," he said. "Future wife, that is. She's a Pulse l'Cie."
Vanille's eyes widened. "Oh no," she gasped.
"She's here somewhere," Snow continued, not hearing her. "Along with that fal'Cie. I've gotta find her and set her free."
Vanille wrung her hands together. A horrible feeling began to well in her stomach and burn inside of her. It tried to force its way through her throat, but whatever it was she held it back. Instead she closed her eyes and looked away.
"What's wrong with you?"
Vanille looked up as Hope jumped to his feet. His eyes were blazing with anger as he glared at Snow.
"Why do you want to help a l'Cie?" the boy demanded. "How can you save a l'Cie and not… And not…"
He faltered; his words died out. Vanille gazed at him in sympathy. Despite his anger, he still could not get the words out. Something continued to hold him back. The boy, realising this as well, tightened his fists and stamped his foot.
"That's insane!" he said instead.
Snow grinned and chuckled. "Probably," he admitted. "But I gotta do something, right?" He turned away and raised his hand in farewell. "I'll be back!" he promised, and then he ran off down the stairs, leaving the pair behind.
As he left, Hope sank to his knees again. His body was shaking, though whether it was because of the fight or because of Snow or even both, he could not be sure. All he knew was that he could not stop it. Succumbing to his fear, he closed his eyes and let himself shiver.
Vanille waited and watched. Her fingers twisted together, forming into knots. Then, shaking her hands free, she walked over to Hope and leant over.
"Should we wait around for him, and hitch a ride?" she asked.
"I'd rather go to Pulse!" Hope snapped, making her jump. The boy held his head in his hands, tugging at his hair. "Why is this happening to me?" he said. "When they found the fal'Cie the other day, we were just visiting Bodhum. But the army took us. Threw us on that train… And because of that guy, Mom is—"
He stopped. He couldn't bring himself to say the words.
Snow only reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped. Those two were only kids… They had fought well; the red-haired girl in particular showed excellent skill. But they were still just kids. "Probably shouldn't leave them alone," he said, and he looked back.
Hope, meanwhile, was beginning to sob. "And he wants to help a l'Cie?" he was saying.
Vanille started to reach out to him but stopped as Snow came running back up the stairs. He waved at her.
"Hey again," he greeted.
"Hey," she said in reply.
She looked back down at Hope. The boy had fallen silent again and was staring at the ground. Already she could see the wheels of his life beginning to slow and stop, as the pain in his heart threatened to consume him. If he did not release it soon, it would be too late. Kneeling down, she took both of his hands in hers, clasping them tight.
"Let's go with him," she said.
Hope's eyes snapped up. "What?" he asked.
"You've gotta talk to him, Hope. If you don't take this chance,"—she squeezed his hands—"you'll regret it forever."
Hope looked at her, incredulous. He then looked over at Snow, standing there as he waited for the pair to make up their minds. He knew Vanille was right. If he let Snow get away now, then he would regret it. Even though he could not say anything now, he would be able to one day. As long as he stayed close to Snow, he would get the chance eventually.
"Okay," he said.
"Okay," said Vanille as well, and she pulled him to his feet.
Snow raised his hand. "Let's go!" he called to them, and then ran back down the stairs.
Vanille hurried after him. Hope, meanwhile, remained where he was. His eyes followed Snow, burning his image into his mind.
One day, he thought, and then he ran to catch up with them.