Chapter 14 – So Darkness I Became
They hadn't flown very far before the sky began to grow ominously dark. But the cloud cover was scarce, and the setting sun still blazed on the horizon – it was by some unseen power that the orange atmosphere above them dimmed to a dull sepia over the course of about an hour. The ship was set to fly as low as possible, the water of the ocean below skimming and splashing in their wake. Though none aboard the Falcon was comfortable, Daryl was most visibly agitated. She paced up and down the deck, tapping her hands on the railing and returning to the main control often to check how it was running. Not only was the fuel supply teetering a bit too close to empty, it was obvious that something terrible was heading their way.
"We gotta stop in Nikeah," the captain declared suddenly. "I can't get us to Narshe without refueling and I frankly don't want to fly in these conditions if at all possible. There is no way this can bring anything but bad news." There were no objections to this, and just then a bright light flashed in the distance, like an electrical storm... or the Light of Judgment. "I think we're close anyway. That land you see to port should be the northern tip of the Serpent Trench, if I'm not mistaken." She rifled through the sketches she had made in Maranda, frustration and worry visible on her face.
A large wave splashed high and sprayed the deck. Daryl rushed to the control and elevated the airship as she accompanied her movements with a string of curses. The ocean was growing tumultuous even though, still, no clouds appeared overhead.
"Why are we flying so low?" Terra asked in a hushed voice, inching closer to Celes. Even when her longtime companion had her defenses raised against the world, Terra still felt she radiated something that felt like safety and don't worry; it's under control that went back to their childhood days together.
"The Tower is active," Celes replied, watching the horizon as though expectant. "We're extremely vulnerable right now and we don't want to attract the Light of Judgment."
"Dammit!" shouted Daryl as the Falcon lurched sideways thanks to an errant gust of wind, throwing everyone off balance. "I'm landing as soon as we reach dry ground. We can continue to Nikeah after this passes."
Another flash of light could be seen to the south. Strago shook his head sadly. "It's a tragic day for some poor village back there…"
But their collective attention was suddenly jostled elsewhere when a startled cry came from Locke at the other end of the deck. Circling above them was a great, winged creature that had approached so quietly no one had noticed it coming. Without warning, it swooped down for attack. And Locke, on instinct, grabbed the bladed boomerang attached to his belt and let it fly with a sharp whistle. The weapon smartly made contact with a fang in the creature's bare-skull mouth, cracking it off and eliciting a terrible screech from the beast as it doubled back. Locke whipped around as he caught the returning weapon. His eyes were wide with rage.
"That's Death Gaze, the monster that killed Gau," he growled, signaling the others to prepare for attack.
Celes stepped up to his side and drew her Runic blade. Magic pulsated from her hands, around her wrists and nearly all the way up her arms in anticipation as her eyes flickered to his. While she was an expert at keeping her expression impassive, her magic tended to betray her stoicism.
Death Gaze recovered from its minor setback quickly. As it dove a second time, Celes slashed her sword, charged with magic, and a shell of ice enveloped the beast and then shattered in a glittering display of power. While the attack again caused the beast to temporarily retreat, it seemed largely unfazed.
"He is extremely powerful…" said Celes, disturbed by her reading of the blow. "And in the air, we're in his territory."
Locke pretty well knew what that meant. As his companions rose to the occasion, firing magic and scrolls and other damaging attacks, he was left on the sidelines gripping his daggers and boomerang and once again feeling utterly useless. He had no special powers, he wasn't particularly strong anymore, and he was shit with magic. His fists shook around the handles of his pathetic weapons; he felt silly even trying to use them. He would contribute nothing to this battle; he could do nothing to personally avenge Gau. Adrenaline coursed through his body in anger and frustration and suddenly he dropped his blades to the floor. Without putting so much as a thought into what he was doing, he tore the Magicite crystal off the cord that still hung around his neck and clutched it so tightly its jagged edges nearly pierced the skin of his palm.
Esper, I command you! Come to my aid! I offer my strength and command you to come!
Just then, he felt as though he had been kicked in the chest as his strength drained with such rapidity that his legs gave out. His vision momentarily went black and his knees hit the deck with a crash, but he wobbled and managed to stay upright otherwise. The crystal had become so hot it was burning his hands, but he refused to let go. And then, finally, he felt it release him.
A wall of water shot straight into the air as a monumental creature – at once draconic and fish-like – burst from the ocean surface. Its size was so great that it dwarfed the skull bird, and with a flourish, the Esper opened its massive jaw and spewed forth an explosion of blue flame. So extensive was its reach that Strago had to conjure a wind to keep the friendly fire from damaging the airship.
Death Gaze, forever silenced, fell limply into the ocean, where its body sank to the depths. The Esper followed, its form dissolving out of sight even before the tip of its tail had completely submerged below the surface of the water. And suddenly, the sound of the Falcon's engines and the still-furiously lapping waves seemed so much quieter than they had before. Locke gingerly pulled himself onto a nearby bench as the others stood in stunned silence, not really knowing what had just happened or what – if anything – should be done next.
"You summoned Bahamut!" said Terra finally, her eyes filled with awe. She walked over to him, tiny licks of flame still jumping off her skin as her own Esper form receded. "May I see the Magicite?"
He handed it to her without a word – he wouldn't have been able to make so much as a squeak if he'd wanted to, anyway – and she examined it fondly and whispered praises and thanks to the Esper on his behalf.
Meanwhile, Daryl climbed out of the corner she had thrust herself into once the action had started. "Ho-oly shit," she said, her hands and legs trembling. "I'm glad I'm on your side…" She shakily grasped the controls of the ship and steered it back on course for the land that was now thankfully no longer too far away.
Over the remaining time in flight, Celes helped Locke below deck where she hummed regenerative spells over him, which soothed his body and calmed his racing pulse. He felt nearly as weak as the day he first awoke on the solitary island, but he was happy knowing that he had finally put Gau to rest; that the boy's sacrifice had not been in vain. Just before he drifted into a lazy slumber, he thought he'd have to tell Sabin the next time he saw him.
- x - x - x -
The magical storm was passing by the time the Falcon blissfully skidded to rest on land. The airship itself practically sighed in relief along with the captain and her crew as its propellers slowed to a halt. The weary passengers disembarked, eager to stand on solid ground, but boots squishing into damp soil that had just earlier been crashed upon by massive waves. The eerie sepia color in the sky had faded by then, but as the sun was setting, it was beginning to return to its now-familiar dark crimson hue.
Shadow, sharp-eyed, scanned the area carefully. "Lady," he said, addressing Daryl in his clear and steady drawl, "This does not appear to be Serpent Trench."
Daryl had to resist the urge to direct her frustration toward the messenger. She was already fretting about the state of her airship and all the new repairs she was going to have to make in addition to the ones she'd been neglecting already. She settled on an exaggerated sigh and went back to find her map notes and a compass, though in the fading light she wondered if it was even worth addressing at the moment. Lighting a lantern, she poured over her sketches, shaking her head slowly.
"I don't know," she said with an exasperated shrug. "There's nothing on the map in between the Veldt and the Serpent Trench so if we're not on one or the other, then this is an uncharted island." She rolled her eyes back as though expecting some oracle in the sky to give her an answer. "I'm trying to recall the world map prior to the Collapse but as far as I know, this could be anything. Or nothing. I don't know."
"Don't worry about it for now, dear," said Strago, patting her arm. "We can check it out in the morning. It's been a long day."
Murmurs of agreement came from the others and they all eagerly retreated to their rooms below the deck for some much-needed rest.
- x - x - x -
Shadow wasn't convinced he had even fallen asleep in the first place, despite feeling the unmistakable sensation of being jolted awake. He sat upright and held completely still, listening for minutes on end. He would wait – he could wait – as long as necessary until he heard it again.
Minutes? Hours? later, there it was – a faint cry in the distance. A human cry; a desperate scream echoing from somewhere on the island. He leapt to his feet and hurried to the deck. To his surprise, he found Strago there, pacing in the darkness. There was a moment of tense silence between them, and Shadow, eyes locked with the old man's, quickly concealed his identity – unwittingly revealed – with his lower mask.
"Did you hear it?" the mercenary finally asked.
Strago cleared his throat. "I don't hear very well at my age," he said with an infuriatingly simple shrug. Shadow twitched, and the old man straightened. "I do feel a familiar presence," he continued, more seriously this time. "Does this concern you?"
Shadow did not answer; the old man's question carried too much consequence. Instead he replied, "I'm not waiting till morning," and turned toward the deck ladder.
"You're not leaving without telling anyone again, are you?" called Strago, at which Shadow halted in his footsteps. The mage had not been present with them on the island with the Phantom Forest.
"Your words are maddening," said Shadow, poison practically dripping from his tongue. "This isn't the time for cryptic games."
Strago sniffed. "Regardless, the sentiment still stands. Wait for me to tell the others we're going."
For a brief moment, Shadow actually considered waiting for his unwelcome cohort. But when Strago disappeared below the deck, the man in black slipped down the rungs of the ladder and took off into the darkness alone.
- x - x - x -
"Are you kidding me? He left again?" Locke ranted, half-delirious, the dark circles under his eyes that lingered constantly these days even more pronounced in the harsh lantern light. The ill-rested party stood shivering on the deck only a few mere hours after they had turned in for the night. "I'm half inclined to say we just leave him behind." He swayed drunkenly to the side, as he was still relatively weakened from the strain he'd put on himself in summoning the great Bahamut.
"Now, I'm not going to say I'm ever impressed with his methods, but Shadow is on the trail of something important. I'm about to follow, but I wanted to inform you all first and see if anyone wished to join me." Strago tapped his staff on the wooden floorboards absently and eyed the younger crowd before him.
"I'll come," said Terra, who looked the most awake of the group. "But what do you think is out there?"
"I'm loath to speculate aloud," was all the old man offered, and for an instant, his expression looked strangely sad.
Locke's shoulder bumped into Celes' for a third time and she caught him by the side, steadying him. "Send a signal if you need immediate help..." she said, watching Locke practically fall back asleep standing up. "I'll follow a little later otherwise."
Strago made a noise that sounded like a mix between a grunt and a laugh and then gestured for Terra to accompany him off the airship. Then they too disappeared into the night.
- x - x - x -
The cries grew louder as Shadow approached the distant, crumbling structure – but they were erratic, sounding almost like a one-sided struggle. There would be a series of terrible shrieks followed by a long length of silence, and then a yell, and the voice would quiet once more. His feet finally reached the first step of the vaguely-familiar fortress: he stood at the entrance of the long-since abandoned Doma Castle. He shivered against his will, swearing he felt something like a spirit pass through his body. This place was wrought with magic and death, and for a second, he almost wished he weren't so bullheaded as to come alone. But it wasn't his own potential demise he feared.
Crossing the threshold, he listened for signs of life from within but the voice had been silent for some time now. He passed the deteriorating iron gates and stepped around broken columns whose stones could have been grave markers for all the bodies he knew had fallen there a long time ago. The front doors to the castle itself were closed, but the shambled wall was easy enough to scale and he entered through a wound in the facade. He peered around in the darkness – not quite able to see, but he hesitated to light a flare whose crackling flame would give him away. Instead he held a short katana at the ready and continued to walk forward, slowly and silently.
A gurgling scream suddenly erupted around the room, but he could tell its source was somewhere else in the castle. He decided then to light his path and as the fire flared to life, he was, in a rare incidence, truly taken aback by the sight that greeted him.
The walls were splattered with thick blobs of color that oozed and pulsated as though they were breathing. When after a moment he realized that they did not appear to be inclined to jump out at him, he took a closer look and noticed that the seemingly-shapeless masses did indeed have distinct, if distorted, features. He recognized a couple as monsters he had encountered at some point or another, except... with no internal support; no bones to give them shape. It was as though they had been skinned and tossed aside, somehow messily sticking to the walls and still trying desperately to be alive.
Even though they were beasts – enemies – the scene was horrific. The shells-of-monsters were everywhere, and as he made his way through the labyrinthine castle, he found they were in no short supply. Writhing, bleeding skins – some even managing to reach out a rubbery arm or spindly finger – as though they were pleading to him for help – quite coated nearly every surface about the great fortress, inside and out. Shadow was seriously beginning to question whether he should continue alone when he heard the voice again – so wretched but so wonderfully human – shriek and cry and cough, raspy and desperate, and he knew he couldn't stop.
His flare was waning and he quickened his pace, boots splashing in the putrid substance that oozed from the horror-house monsters. His heart pounded with an anxiety he hadn't felt in as long as he could remember as he watched the flame flicker and die – feeling, childishly, that the real monster would emerge once the light went out. And as the darkness dominated once more and he rounded a corner, he bumped into a solid figure that startled him so badly he let out a yelp of his own.
He heard heavy, haggard breathing. Then the breathing turned into choking and retching. And then interest overtook fear and Shadow forced his eyes to focus, aided by the faint moonlight that spilled through the cracks in the walls, and he could see that the figure was indeed human – small and hunched over, gasping for air. The body teetered into the wall and fell to the floor in a fit of convulsions, and her screaming – so deafeningly loud, now – echoed through the castle yet again. Shadow scooped the flailing waif into his arms and retreated, though with significant difficulty as he was largely blind in the darkness and the body he carried wriggled violently as though seizing up.
Following a faint glow of light, Shadow made his way to a window and saw that it led to a courtyard one story below. Kicking out the remains of the already-shattered glass, he perched in the sill and leapt to the ground, feet stinging with the shock of impact. He quickly moved to lay his burden on the thin and patchy grass, where she continued to writhe and sputter, her eyes wide but glassy, foam spraying from her mouth. Her skin and clothes were caked with muddy colors, and her long, tightly curled hair was tangled in a nest about her head. She spat sounds like a hissing animal, thrashing her fingers like claws in the air and then suddenly, she fell limp and quiet.
Shadow was at a loss for what to do, and he felt – so strange to be experiencing such strong sensations all of a sudden – a weight sinking, sickly, into his stomach. He was now breathing so heavily his mask felt like a gag, and he knelt, helplessly, next to the girl's body, dumbly hoping that perhaps she would snap out of it on her own. He pulled off a glove and felt for her pulse – it was there, thankfully, but it was racing dangerously, inhumanly fast. And yet her chest was still, taking in no breaths at all.
A few minutes later a small croak escaped her lips. Her eyes still stared, unseeing yet wild, into a space beyond that only she could see. Then her voice creaked again and she howled strangely, though her body moved no further. At that moment, Shadow could hear footsteps approaching, and he looked up to find Strago and Terra sprinting toward him.
"Relm!" Terra gasped as she skidded to a halt, quite horrified at seeing the girl's condition. Strago's expression was severe and grim.
"What's wrong with her?" Shadow demanded, as though expecting Strago to know the answer. "She's unconscious of the world before her and she suffers cycles of fits." The others had never heard the elusive man's voice so intense before.
"This is demons' work," said Strago quietly, circling his staff in the air, trying to get a sense of the source of the magic that so saturated the entire grounds of the fortress. "They are plaguing her mind somehow."
Terra, meanwhile, had dropped to her knees and was swishing healing spells over the young girl's body, if only to soothe her superficially. But Relm soon began to convulse and gasp again, and as if on cue, the screams started anew. Terra struggled to lift and hold her more upright, lest she choke on her own tongue. She whispered Esper chants like a lullaby and tried to sync her aura to Relm's, attempting to gain any sort of insight on what was happening to her, and how they could help.
No answers were eagerly rearing their heads toward them by any means. Terra was beginning to tire herself out by running down the list of healing spells she knew, casting them rapid-fire in hopes that something would elicit any sort of positive response. Eventually, Relm's wild thrashing overtook the slight woman, and she was knocked to the ground as the girl suddenly thrust herself back to her feet. She hobbled, zombie-like, back toward the castle and stopped when she reached a solid wall. The others watched, dumbfounded, as she bent down and scooped a generous handful of moist dirt from the ground and began to smear it on the stone facade. Her fingers artfully manipulated the soil, pushing the color around, adding more as necessary, until – and only a short time later – an amazingly realistic image of a spindly monster appeared like a mural on the wall. A second later, the image began to squirm, and it slid limply from its post, sagging and hanging off the wall like a skin – just as Shadow had seen inside.
The others grimaced at the display; the monster shell flopping, half-lifeless on the wall as though the conventions of... anything normal did not apply to its being. And then, unseeing of her own handiwork, Relm continued on her way, wandering listlessly about the courtyard, her eyes focused on something not of the waking world.
"How do we... how do we fight a demon that's settled into her mind?" asked Terra desperately, picking herself up off the ground. "And might there be something here in the castle controlling her from the outside?"
"The only demonic presence I can sense is coming directly from her," said Strago. "This leads me to believe there is nothing that can direct us to her captors other than herself."
"But no magic I have would be able to exorcise her! How do we see what she's seeing?"
"Through dreams..." spoke Shadow unexpectedly. Sensing on this occasion that he would not be able to get away without explanation, he continued. "I have faced lesser dream-demons myself; they tend to follow me – or prefer me, for whatever reason. I am able to fight them off. She may not be strong enough. Or it's that these demons are particularly wretched."
"I've never heard of such a thing," said Terra, rather horrified at the thought.
"It's an oddity not well studied," said Strago carefully. "Why some are oft afflicted and others never suffer once in their lives. Some consider it a disease or a disorder from within; it's generally dismissed as simple night terrors, but some suspect it can be blood-related. ...But no matter on the details." His eyes met Shadow's somewhat ominously. "Do you think you can connect to her?"
"Put me to sleep; we'll find out."
Without further delay, Terra uttered a sleep spell and Shadow's body fell limp. She laid him gently on the ground while Strago corralled Relm closer to their circle. Then all they could do was wait, uncomfortably and anxiously, and merely hope this shot in the dark would somehow reach its target.
- x - x - x -
Shadow found himself wandering through a strangely undulating environment. It was as if the scene could not decide exactly what it wanted to be – a dark forest, or a well-lit museum? The frequency with which it shifted was starting to make him ill. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on one thing. When he opened them, he was standing in the forest, and his stomach was thankful it stayed that way.
But at the same time, he knew this wasn't where he needed to be. He started forward, and as expected, soon felt a familiar weight on his arm. His bleeding companion clung to him, groaning, asking if the blood that stained both their cloaks was his.
"I don't have time for this, Baram," said Shadow, gritting his teeth. He tossed the injured man's body aside unceremoniously, and somehow, this harsh deviation from ritual stung his heart.
"How could you... just abandon me like this?" Baram choked.
"This isn't what happened. And this won't change what happened. I don't need to relive it every damn night of my life!"
With the force of his words, the scenery shifted, and Shadow was back in the pleasantly warm and bright museum. Fine artwork hung from the walls, and a smattering of well-to-do patrons tittered politely about the room. Unsure of what he should be looking for here, he scoured his surroundings, noting belatedly the swish of a cape behind him. He was still wearing his old clothes from the dream before.
Growing frustrated, he looked for an exit – maybe whatever was of significance here was outside. As he turned around he bumped into a young woman, who apologized and blushed when their eyes met. There was something very familiar about the silky red skirt she wore, and the matching ribbon in her hair. But strangely, though he looked right at her, he could not distinguish a single feature on her face, as if it were blank. (But was it really? He couldn't tell. This bothered him.)
"I just love these paintings," he could hear her say airily. "I wish I could collect artwork myself..."
Then the scenery faded, and Shadow was once again dressed in his assassin's garb. He stood in the center of a village square, but everything looked somehow taller than usual, as though he were seeing it from a child's perspective. This warped view made it difficult to maneuver and stay on balance at first, but he quickly accustomed himself to it. His feet brought him to a house on the northern edge of town, and without even opening the door, he found himself inside. The blank-faced woman (Her face wasn't really blank. He just couldn't focus on it for some reason. That had to be it.) sat in a chair, reading, while a toddler girl, splayed on the floor before her, scribbled on a stack of papers. The shapes she drew were rather sophisticated for her age, and even more remarkably, when she completed an image, it floated off of the paper, into the air and did a little dance. Crooked flowers and pudgy bees wiggled before her eyes and she giggled with each new creation.
"Mommy, draw something!" she said, turning to the woman behind the book.
"Mommy can't draw like you, Relm," the woman replied with a smile in her voice. "Your pictures are special."
Satisfied with this response, little Relm went back to her pen and paper and continued doodling.
Suddenly, Shadow was back outside. But the seasons had changed, and so had his perspective. His view was still warped, but he felt taller this time. He walked east, through a thinly wooded area (Don't bring me back to the forest...) and came to a clearing. The toddler was now a few years older, and she frowned intensely at a stone grave marker in the ground. Taking a deep breath and a paintbrush from her pocket, she began to wave it in the air, foregoing paper completely by this point and somehow creating her magical pictures in the space before her.
Shadow watched in silence as Relm painted, unable to see any color emerge from her brush but knowing that she was employing a crude form of her pictomancy nonetheless. When she finished and stepped back, no visible image appeared before her, but the ground beneath her feet suddenly shook. She gasped and jumped back. The gravestone toppled over and the soil cracked open. He couldn't see what she saw, but as she looked by her feet she screamed and cried and ran out of the woods. Shadow turned to follow as the scene started to fade, but he willed it to remain a bit longer.
Relm sprinted into the house at the northern edge of town, shrieking in terror all the way, causing more than a few neighbors to turn their attentions to the girl curiously as she ran. Shadow managed to slip into the house before the door closed behind her, just as Strago – looking ever so slightly younger – descended the stairs to catch her in his arms.
"What is all this about, Relm?" he asked, steadying her.
Between sobs, she managed to confess: "I tried... to paint mommy... and... and..." She was unable to finish her sentence.
Strago shook his head sympathetically as he put an arm around her shoulder. "Never paint the dead," he warned. "You cannot bring life to that which no longer has it."
At these words, Relm broke into further sobbing, and the old man held her close. The scene then finally faded for good.
The flickering, twisting environment returned, and it gave Shadow no less of a headache this time either. He swore he heard a sinister giggle echo from somewhere, but, spinning around, he could see nothing but flashing lights and shifting shapes in every direction. Concentrating fiercely, he managed to steady his vision and his surroundings grew dark. He was in a small room, sitting on the edge of a bed – it was nighttime. To his left, the blank-faced woman slept soundly, peacefully, unaware. Shadow picked up the pair of boots on the floor next to him and pulled them on, then secured his old cape around his shoulders. A dog stirred in the corner of the room, standing, looking at him expectantly. He nodded and exited the room in near silence, shutting the door with a soft click just as the dog slipped through to follow.
He was back in the shape-shifting nothing-room. There came another giggle.
Shadow drew a short sword with each hand. He had had enough of being jerked around, and was more than ready to unleash his wrath upon an errant trickster demon.
Suddenly, Relm's piercing screams filled the space around him. Then he felt like he was falling and when he landed – ungracefully – he was back inside Doma Castle. He cursed, wondering momentarily if he had awakened or not. But, noting that the walls were clean, he figured he was still in the dream, and set off to find Relm once more by following her voice.
The castle shifted constantly, in a nauseatingly surreal manner. In one instant there was sunlight beaming through the windows, and in the next it was dark. The hallways moved. He would exit one room only to find himself back in the same place. It was driving him mad, so finally, he stopped and simply called her name.
Silence. Then coughing. Then a response, but one he wasn't expecting.
"Sir Cyan?" Relm shouted from somewhere nearby. Her footsteps rang through the hallways and she appeared in a doorway at the opposite end of the room, looking startled. "Shadow?" Without hesitation, she approached the man in black, tears in her eyes. "Sir Cyan – I can't find him!"
"What's going on?" asked Shadow, sheathing his swords. The young girl grabbed his hand and pulled him forcefully back in the direction from which she had come.
"We've been trapped here for so long," she rasped, her voice breaking into sobs though she put up a valiant effort to sound strong. "We just came to see his old home, but then there was a flash of light and the land broke off and we floated away… it's an island now… we're stuck…" She broke into a fit of coughing. Shadow halted in his footsteps and forced her to stay put so she could speak easier.
"So where is Cyan?"
"I don't know!" she wailed. "We've been here for… I don't know how long! Weeks! And we're hungry and this place is haunted!" He waited for her to continue. "He's been acting weird; he called me 'Owain' and he's talking to ghosts. And he's crying and I don't like it when he cries. Men shouldn't cry." She wiped a tear from her own cheek. "When I woke up the other morning I couldn't find him. He's disappeared."
And as soon as the words escaped her lips, she too vanished. Shadow was suddenly left alone, and the castle was pitch dark.
"All right, demons… let's just get this over with," he growled. Two voices giggled in unison. The sound was infuriating.
With a jolt, Shadow was thrust into another room and his ears were immediately barraged by more frantic screaming.
"No! No, Cyan! Why did you do it? Why did you leave me? Why does everyone leave me!" Relm was flailing around as though she were mad, tearing at her hair, clawing at her face, throwing herself at the walls and in so many ways looking and sounding like a dying animal. "Why-y…!"
Shadow rushed to the girl's side, but this time, she did not acknowledge his presence. Even when he lifted her by her shoulders, she simply wriggled from his grasp and continued to thrash much like she had done in the waking world. But then, as though she was suddenly struck with an idea, she leapt to her feet and sprinted away. Shadow, growing exasperated but still determined, followed.
Relm led him to the throne room of the castle. There, he discovered the source of her anguish: the Doma Knight, to cease the mental torture apparently brought upon by the ruined castle, had fallen upon his own sword, kneeling forever in a bow of honor before his late king's throne.
"I can bring you back…" said Relm, her voice strange as she stood beside Cyan. With trembling hands she pulled a paintbrush from her pocket. "I will bring you back. I can do it now. I'm better at it now." To Shadow's horror, the girl began to wave it in the air, and just as it had done that time many years before, the magical brush created no colors but painted its picture invisibly in the space between them.
"Relm, stop!" he shouted and ran toward her. But her resolve was set, and nothing Shadow could say or do would distract her from this goal. As she finished, the ground rumbled and shook, and they both watched as Cyan's body began to grotesquely reanimate. It was all wrong, the way he moved – without any of the fluidity of heaving lungs and warm blood beneath flesh. And at that moment, Shadow realized what was happening. He grabbed Relm in a detaining hold – harsh, he knew, but it was perhaps necessary. She shrieked and Cyan fell back to the floor.
"What are you doing? Let me go!" she yelped and struggled against his grasp.
"He's not alive. You're just manipulating his body with pictomancy, and it's wrong."
She burst into tears. "I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!"
The castle walls melted around them and the nothing-room of flashing lights and shapes appeared once more. Shadow loosened his grip and Relm collapsed onto the floor, sobbing in a curled-up ball of arms and legs. Three demon-giggles now sounded, and then erupted into raucous laughter – and as Shadow redrew his swords yet again, the creatures finally showed themselves. They were small and imp-like, with knobby limbs and crooked noses, and faces that looked childish but twisted. They bounded around with infuriatingly chipper energy.
Then without so much as a warning, the three demons concentrated their energies in unison and sent a powerful delta attack barreling toward Shadow and Relm.
- x - x - x -
The sun was peeking over the horizon; as the light reached Terra's closed eyes her head bobbed up as she suddenly awakened. "Oh!" she said softly, rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes. She and Strago had been sitting there for quite some time now, with little sign of action. Shadow's head was propped in her lap; Relm, now still, was cradled in Strago's arms.
She looked down at Shadow. Though his face was largely covered, she could see the muscles straining beneath the cloth of his mask. "He's fighting something…" she said. "Is there nothing we can do to help?"
"Dream-magic is not my area of expertise," said Strago. "You're welcome to try, but I cannot advise you on how to enter their dream or how to find them once you get there."
Terra sighed. The whole idea of it was quite incomprehensible to her as well. She could only hope that Relm's state of calm as of late was a positive sign. That her friends were being attacked from within – and she, unable to see what exactly was happening or do anything about it – was nearly making her sick with worry.
A long shadow stretched across her face and she looked up to see Celes and Locke finally approaching. They seemed more than a little surprised to find their cohorts apparently lounging around the courtyard at daybreak.
"Happen to know anything about dreams?" Strago asked, in a halfhearted attempt to sound more hopeful than anyone really felt.
- x - x - x -
Shadow was struggling badly. The imp-demons were far more powerful than their size suggested, and their delta attacks were brutal. Relm cowered behind him, too distraught to do anything to defend herself or aid in battle – not that he expected her to. The mercenary fingered his last scroll; a lightning spell that he knew would fall short of being truly effective in this situation. After all, the last three he had thrown had merely damaged one demon and healed another.
He had never minded the idea of dying in battle, but this was not the one he wanted to end up pronouncing his demise.
His mind raced to think of anything that could be of use. But they were in the middle of nothing and nowhere, and the only weapons he had were on his person (and rapidly running in short supply). He briefly thought back to his faithful dog, Interceptor – who had not been seen since the Collapse – and wished he were there to fight beside him like old times.
…And suddenly, an idea struck him. He considered the instances in which he had manipulated his own dreams, tiring of the repetitive monotony his guilt-fueled nightmares incessantly inflicted. It was a large part of the reason he had grown to be so dead to the world emotionally – this ability to toss aside the details he cared not for, to mould his thoughts into whatever was most pure and efficient, regardless of consequence. All he had to do was remember that while this conflict may be somewhat physical, it was still largely mental. He was in his own mind as much as Relm's. With concentration, he could take control – for in truth, these enemies were on his territory.
The scenery steadied and dissolved into a dark forest. Not his favorite place to revisit, but it was certainly and thoroughly familiar. Upon noticing the change, Relm scrambled away to hide behind a cluster of trees, and Shadow leapt into the branches overhead. The three demons grunted in slight confusion as their victim had unexpectedly gained the upper hand, their heads darting around, searching for the man who blended into the shadows.
There was a fluster of energy and a rustling in the flora on the edge of the clearing. A silver wolf stepped into the moonlight and bared its teeth at the demons, saliva dripping from its fearsome jaw as it growled. If the imps expected it to attack, they were mistaken, for the wolf disappeared even more suddenly than it came, and then four dark figures dropped down from above.
...If there were three of them, it was only fair he add a few more to his team too, wasn't it?
Shadow and his reflections circled the demons, each in a threatening stance, ready for attack. The little imps began to engage their combined power once again, but when they released, their energy happened to be wasted on one of the false figures. In their distraction, Shadow jumped in to deal some real damage with his sturdy blades.
But one reflection down so quickly, Shadow felt he still needed more help. Refusing to believe it ever might not work, he whistled through his teeth with as much confident expectancy as he could muster, and sure enough, a light galloping could be heard racing toward them through the trees. With a speed so great it visibly startled the dream-demons, a muscular, dark-coated canine burst into the clearing like a cannonball and caught one of the imps by the neck. Interceptor thrashed his head wildly, throttling the smaller beast and dragging its body mercilessly over the ground, blood spilling everywhere. And in this second opening, Shadow attacked again.
Their brother now dead, the remaining demons' anger multiplied, and they threw both man and dog backwards with ease. Shadow rolled on his shoulder and recovered, then jumped back into the tree branches to regroup his remaining reflections and confuse his enemies once more. While still hidden, he concentrated hard, willing the dream to bend to his favor in this fight. Bring him to me, Baram! I know he'll be there with you. Do me this favor... please.
That's rich, asking me for a hand, came the response in his mind. I'll do it for her.
And when he leapt back down to the ground, he landed beside Cyan the Doma Knight, his soul upright and animate, with all the grace and strength he no longer boasted in the waking, living world. He drew his sword, and with the aid of Shadow's distraction, cut down one more of the nasty imps.
The third, alone and naught without his brothers, attempted to flee, but Shadow closed in and delivered his final avenging blow. And then the woods were silent.
Shadow and Cyan looked to Relm, who had been clinging to a tree trunk in the near distance. The girl's image began to fade away as she was finally, blissfully released from her nightmare.
Cyan bowed his head deeply and neither said a word for some time.
"I brought this upon her," the elder man eventually spoke, "by not standing up to it on my own. My actions were shameful."
Shadow tilted his head away and relaxed his stance, somewhat awkwardly. "All anyone is doing anymore is atoning for their sins. Don't think you're alone... I've wronged her too."
Cyan nodded thoughtfully, uncomfortably. "Still, so dishonorable..."
"There's no use for honor anymore. Just find peace. You're a good man." Shadow pulled off his mask in a gesture of trust and the two clasped hands in unspoken gratitude.
"As art thou," noted Cyan with another bow.
And in the next blink of Shadow's eyes, the Doma Knight's spirit vanished.
Chapter title taken from: Florence + the Machine - "Cosmic Love"