Once again, I fear that many have assumed the lack of updates in recent memory means I've died, but I have not, I'm just working really slowly. To those of you who have stood by the story, thank you. There has been some criticism, which I appreciate. Now as we get a bit further into the aspect of magic in the story and the presence of the Espers, I will hopefully bring them to more prominence as well as bring a more significant role for Terra, Celes, and the others, as I've hoped to do here. However, as those who read Dark Esper know, I do not place a great deal of emphasis on the Espers, I want it to be more about the characters themselves. As always, however, this story does have Sabin as one of, if not the (to the Sabin detractors) main character. My apologies to those who don't like it, I only hope to offer enough of the others to satisfy. I hope all of you continue to enjoy this story and offer you compliments and criticisms. Once again, thank you, and enjoy.
Pain.
Grief.
Suffering.
These were the feelings that permeated the entirety of the Magitek Research Facility. These impressions echoed through the lifestream, even though Sabin was not deep into the meditation needed to fully connect to life and nature. Looking around, he could tell that the others were feeling the effects, even if they didn't understand the source.
Gau was shivering slightly, his eyes wide as he looked around. Celes was even paler than usual, while Locke, Edgar and Cyan looked sick and angry.
Sabin shook his head sadly. There was anger and hatred in this place; that was for certain. It bubbled beneath the sorrow and despair, waiting for the chance to unleash itself. Sabin tried focusing and getting a more concrete direction to what he was feeling, but to no avail; these feelings came from all around him.
"This is an evil place," he muttered, "and many fell things have been done here."
"This place doth chill me to the bone," agreed Cyan, his face contorted into a look of hatred.
The facility itself was as much a marvel of Imperial engineering and architecture as the Iron Fortress itself. Much of the interior was left as empty space; machinery of some kind took up much of the rest. Catwalks were interspersed mostly along the exterior wall of the facility, though a few extended further into the facility, and fewer still widened to the point of being corridors surrounded by machinery or large platforms looking out into the expansive facility.
Energy crackled within the machines, some of it extending out to run along the exterior of the devices. Occasionally, a bolt of energy would pass across the expansive emptiness of the facility.
Locke turned to Edgar, who looked to be somewhere between horror and fascination. "Edgar? You have an idea as to any of this?"
The young king shook his head slowly. "Not a bloody clue. Give me five or six years and I can tell you, but nothing right now."
In the distance, they heard a sound. It sounded like a scream.
Sabin winced in pain. The shadowscar had flared white-hot at the same time the scream had reverberated through the lifestream, hitting his very spirit. It was a double blow that he had been unprepared for. Sabin gritted his teeth until the pain died away.
"Did you just hear that?" asked Locke, looking around wildly.
"I think we all didst hear the scream," replied Cyan with a hint of sarcasm.
"What's the quickest way through this place? Celes?" prompted Edgar.
Celes shook her head. The screams had allowed unwanted memories to sneak into her mind. Herself as a young girl, watched by Professor Cid and Dragonstorm troops. Every once in a while Cid would let her ride the conveyor belts, just like any kid would want to do. But with the soldiers, sometimes she could swear that she could smell their fear or hear the quiver in the voice. Both she and they knew that with just a momentary thought, she could have frozen them in their place, and no amount of training or skill could have saved them.
But there were always those screams of pain and anguish. Only once had she dared to ask what they were. Cid had sadly replied, "Enemies." But not a day later, her tutors knew of her question and beat her severely, ensuring she would never ask again.
This isn't a time to become lost in daydreams and memories. Focus on your mission, soldier!
"There are guard patrols along the catwalks all the time, but it would be faster to ride the conveyor belts," she explained, "The conveyors pass through each section of the facility bringing needed gear and equipment. However, we need to go to the eastern section of the facility. There is a room in there that only a handful of people are permitted access to, and each one must be approved by Gestahl. I myself have never been allowed in. If the Espers are here, then that's where they'll be."
"Thou art certain of this?" demanded Cyan.
Celes' face curled into an unattractive sneer. "Well I guess you'll just have to trust me, won't you. Otherwise, look around on your own!"
"We trust you," said Sabin in a strong yet quiet voice, "Get on, everyone."
Edgar followed behind his brother, both of them leaping at the same moment. They landed heavily on the conveyor, followed quickly by the others.
They rode in silence, though they kept themselves poised for a fight. All were keeping their eyes open, but no guards came into sight. As they continued on, following Celes' direction as to when to get onto a different conveyor, Sabin began to wonder where everyone was. Why was this place so deserted?
On the Blackjack, Setzer sat by himself at one of the tables in the main gambling hall. Leaving the care of the ship in the capable hands of his crew, Setzer was whittling the time with games of simple solitaire.
It was certainly an eclectic group that he had dumped off his ship this morning. The King of Figaro and Knight-Retainer of Doma, working together… That was unusual in and of itself, and probably worth a few hundred gold to the next information broker he stumbled across. Add to that the cooperation of Celes, an Imperial general, and you had a magitek keg ready to explode.
Pity about that, he thought. Such a shame that the gorgeous Celes was on her way back into a firestorm in Vector. They'll probably all be dead by this evening, and he didn't even get a chance to sleep with her. Setzer shook his head ruefully; he was going to fall behind on his conquests if he kept this up.
"Skipper?"
Setzer turned to the voice, seeing his old friend and the Blackjack's first mate, Janson. The two of them had been friends since Setzer had ordered the first planks for the Blackjack lain. Janson might look like a pirate and a simpleton, but he knew this ship inside and out just as well as Setzer did.
"The engines have cooled down, cap'n," reported Janson, "and we've done a complete walkdown, cleaning up everything for our next passengers."
"How's the crew?" asked Setzer.
Janson hesitated for just a moment. "The men are a bit nervous being this close to Vector, especially without any real explanation. If we were on our way to pick up a general or Gestahl they'd be okay. But the men're beginning to think our guests were Returners, and they're not happy about getting involved in that fiasco."
Setzer nodded in understanding, not wanting to be involved in a war against the Empire any more than his crew.
Then Janson spoke again. "The men also… well, some of them asked me to speak to you about not letting the Ironhand back on board, skipper."
Setzer's eyes rose at that. His men had always enjoyed complaining good-naturedly about the pompous blowhards that came aboard, but since those were usually the biggest gamblers, the men didn't mind a small bonus for putting up with them. But he'd never heard of his crew seriously asking him not to allow someone aboard.
"Did the Ironhand bother them at all?" asked Setzer, "Inquire into any of our business? Threaten anyone?"
"No, nothing like that, skipper," replied Janson, "he just stood up on the foredeck. For a while he was just kneelin' there, still as could be. But all the men knew who he was, cap'n. None of 'em wanted to be near him. They thought he might see into their hearts, pull the truth from their lips and burn us all to cinders. Burn me, cap'n, but I've heard the stories, too, and like some of the men, I wouldn't put it past him. A lot of the men have shifty pasts, and at least two had fathers who ran afoul of Duncan Ironhand, years ago."
Setzer thought back to the muscle-bound brute who'd called himself the heir of Ironhand. He'd never encountered the last Blitz Master, Duncan Ironhand, said to be the greatest hero who ever lived. He had heard the remarkable tales of the Blitz, those supernatural powers that the masters of the Ironhand style possessed. But from what he'd heard, tales of the Ironhands indiscriminately destroying enemies in their path was grossly overexaggerated.
"Tell the men that the Ironhand won't be any trouble to them," he told Janson, "let them keep their distance from him and he won't bother them."
"We could leave, skipper," suggested Janson, "we're all prepped and ready, and who knows what those madmen will bring back with them… if they even come back from Vector."
Setzer nodded silently. He'd had those very same thoughts.
"Let's give these nutcakes a little while longer, Janson."
Janson nodded once. "Aye aye, skipper."
He turned to leave and headed for the stairs as Setzer turned back to his cards.
"Janson!" called Setzer, halting the other man in his tracks. Neither man turned to look at the other. "What do you think their odds are?"
Janson thought for a moment. "I won't give them anything better than five-to-one against."
Setzer nodded thoughtfully. "I think it might be quite interesting to roll the dice with them. What do you think?"
"Skipper, you once told me that from then on you would only gamble with your money, never again with your life."
He continued walking, but paused at the stairs.
"On the other hand, skipper, that Lady Celes is quite the prize."
Without another word, he left Setzer to his thoughts.
Edgar held his autocrossbow at the ready, watching the right side of the conveyor over Sabin's shoulder while his brother watched the left. He didn't like this place. The patrols of Dragonstorm guards had been too sparse for a place of such importance. They'd had to leap off the conveyor a handful of times to avoid being spotted. They'd picked up some equipment that had been left unattended. In one of the guard rooms had been a suit of plate armor and a well-crafted shield, both of which had a strange golden hue to the steel, though the shield bore no insignia. The armor didn't fit any of them right now, but a little work by a decent armorer would fix that. Cyan carried the shield, while Edgar carried his older iron shield on his back.
Sabin suddenly waved, getting Edgar's attention, then pointed down on an angle. Edgar looked ahead, and saw that just ahead the conveyor went into a sort of tunnel, then he could see a sharp drop in the angle. He nodded to Sabin, then turned and waved to Locke and Celes, following behind, giving the same signal, and saw Locke give the same to Cyan and Gau.
Turning back, he saw that Sabin was just at the edge. Without warning, Sabin leapt into the air, somersaulting as he did so. Edgar could tell his brother's shoulder hit the conveyor just at the downturn and Sabin slipped out of sight.
"Bloody fool," Edgar whispered to himself.
The light dimmed as he entered the short tunnel, and he braced himself for the fall that was coming. Suddenly, without any warning at all, he was falling. After a moment of panic, wondering just how far the drop was and wondering if they'd made a mistake, light flooded his eyes and he landed hard on his rear.
"Owww!" he moaned.
"Watch that first step," came Sabin's voice, "it's a killer."
A strong hand grabbed Edgar's upper arm and pulled him along for a few steps, then Edgar's eyes began to adjust to the light, and he could see he was next to several boxes against a wall. He rubbed his sore rear as Sabin moved over to where Locke and Celes had just fallen, the latter having landed far more gracefully. Locke, meanwhile, was quietly cursing up a storm. Sabin quickly grabbed their arms and pulled them over to Edgar while their eyes adjusted to the light.
"You could have warned us about the drop," Edgar whispered harshly to Celes.
The young blond smirked but said nothing.
A moment later Cyan landed with the same unceremonious thump, while Gau appeared a moment later, holding onto the ledge above with one hand.
"Waroo!" he quietly cried happily, "That fun! Want to go again!"
"Blasted, foul contraption," muttered Cyan as Sabin pulled him over, "I curse thee to all three hells, and any more that may exist."
Locke took a long look around their surroundings. The crates were piled high, leaving only a small walkway along the ledge where the conveyor had dropped them. To the right of the conveyor, the walkway led to a flight of stairs going up to a higher catwalk. The crates and boxes around them were scattered about, as though no one here had really cared to organize them.
"Everyone all right, then?" asked Celes. Nods came from the other men, three of them rubbing their sore behinds. "All right, I think if we…"
"Shh!" commanded Sabin.
"What…"
"Shh!"
Sabin had a look of intense concentration, his eyes staring holes in the ground. After a moment, Gau sniffed the air and began to growl. Then the others were able to make out the sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs towards them.
"Take cover!" whispered Edgar, and instantly the six of them scattered to hide among the crates. The footsteps grew closer and louder, and they began to make out the sounds of a man's laughter, until they saw who walked past them on the catwalk.
"Kefka!" hissed Locke, but Edgar immediately cuffed him over the head, getting him to shut up before he gave them away.
Sabin said nothing, but his hands suddenly glowed with the power of the Blitz. A small hand rested on his forearm, and he turned to Celes, shaking her head worriedly. Grimacing at yet another chance to destroy this villain slipping away, Sabin released his spiritual power and let it dissipate.
Kefka stood next to the conveyor for only a moment, and then a strange form fell limply to the ground. All of the young heroes gasped.
The being was a petite, blue-skinned being, feminine in build with long sea-green hair that spread across the ground. She appeared to be nude, but like with Terra, one part of the body seemed to meld into the next. She seemed to be whimpering, struggling mightily just to raise her head.
Kefka let loose with a maniacal laugh.
A moment later, another form fell. This one was far larger and more muscular, with fire-red skin, a fierce face and the horns of a bull. This one was definitely male, and wore only a small loincloth. A deep, animalistic growl emanated from his throat.
"Pathetic!" sneered Kefka, grabbing the man by the horns and the woman by her hair, and throwing them further into the room.
"Fiend!" hissed Cyan, as he and the others scrambled for positions to watch whatever Kefka was doing.
"Those are Espers," whispered Locke, glancing at Edgar every few moments, "they have to be. I'd bet my life…"
Celes clamped a hand over Locke's mouth, keeping him silent.
"Mwa hahaha!" laughed Kefka, in that frightening, cruel tone of his, "With your delightfully sacrificed power, you are donating more and more of their strength to me! Soon, very soon, I will take the power of all the Espers that exist, and then I will become all powerful!
His cruel laughter seemed to fill the entire facility with a strange chill.
"Please…" whimpered the female Esper, "why…?"
Kefka nearly flew forward grabbing her throat and chin roughly in one hand and held her face close to his own.
"Why? You ask why? As I collect you and drain you, I extract your raw magical power. Soon you will be nothing, the Espers will be extinct. And with your stolen power I will restore the statues!"
"Statues?" whispered Locke, looking over at Celes, whose blue eyes were boring holes into Kefka's back.
"Now that I've drained you of any useful power you may have had left, you are now worthless to me!" cried Kefka gleefully, "Enjoy eternity with the rest of the garbage!"
Lifting the blue-skinned Esper woman by the throat, Kefka held her high enough that her feet dangled helplessly in mid-air. With a snarl, Kefka then threw her into the garbage pit next to him.
"No…" said the other Esper in an almost plaintive growl.
Kefka found this hysterical. "Why don't you take a hike and get out of my sight?!"
With that, the madman kicked the prostrate Esper in the stomach. The force of the blow was so strong that it lifted the Esper into the air and sent him hurtling over the railing without difficulty.
Kefka chuckled cruelly. "Well. That takes care of that. Time to see how quickly the rest of my pretty little Espers are dying. Vwe heeheehee!"
With that, the madman turned back and walked towards the crates. The young heroes quickly returned to their hiding places, sneaking glances at Kefka as he walked past. No one moved until his footsteps up the stairs had died away.
The six heroes moved at once, rushing to the edge of the pit where the Espers had fallen. All of them stared down into the darkness.
"This…" stammered Edgar, "this is what they've been doing. This… this crime. The Espers… this must be where Celes' and Terra's magic came from. From draining the very life out of the Espers."
"I never… I never knew," said Celes, nearly choking on the words, "I was never conscious, they made sure of that. I never knew the screams could have come from Espers. I never thought, never knew…"
"We're not saying you did," Sabin told her calmly, "and we don't doubt you. You've told us what you remember, that's enough for us."
Edgar glanced over at his younger brother. Really? he asked with his eyes, Is it really enough for us?
But Sabin didn't reply. Instead, all he said was, "We can't let those Espers die down there."
"What do you suggest, Sir Sabin?" asked Cyan, "That we climb down and face both Espers? Thou art a good man but perhaps sometimes blinded by thy ideals thou might be."
"Maybe they know something," said Locke, "maybe they know where the rest of the Espers are, or how we can help Terra, or…"
"Thou need sayeth no more, thief," admonished Cyan, "I art willing to descend to help Lady Terra."
Locke pulled a length of rope from his satchel and carefully wound a knot around the railings, giving several short hard tugs to make sure it was secure. He was about ready to test it when Celes pushed ahead of him.
"Please," she said quietly, "please, let me go first. I have to…"
She didn't seem able to finish, and Locke nodded and let her descend. He pulled a lantern from the wall, then saw Edgar and Cyan do the same.
Celes descended slowly, not really certain what they would find down here, and the light from her compatriots' lanterns was too dull for her to make out many details. Finally the floor came into view and she looked up. She had probably descended sixty or seventy feet, the walls this far down were made of roughly hewn stone.
Her feet finally touched bottom, and she had to fight to keep her balance for a moment. The ground was at an angle that she hadn't expected, sloping down just enough to be noticeable, ending in a ledge leading to an even deeper chasm. As Locke and Edgar came with their lanterns, she could now make out a set of stairs along the far wall, carved directly into the stone, which is probably why she didn't see it from above.
The whole chamber stank of rot and garbage. As the others came down with lanterns, she could see more of her surroundings. Body parts and skeletal remains littered the ground in a mound against the wall. Instruments of torture were strewn about, along with needles and saws and knives. Every few seconds it seemed that some small object fell from the pile and skittered down into the chasm. Celes had to wonder how many horrific secrets lay at the bottom that the Empire had casually discarded.
"Where are they?" wondered Edgar.
Celes shook her head, remembering that they had come down after the two Espers. Despite the light coming from all three lanterns, none of them could find the two beings amidst the junk. But Celes could feel some sort of pressure in her mind, the same that she had felt in Narshe and again in Ramuh's presence in Zozo. The Espers were down here.
"Spread out," she directed.
Cyan grumbled about taking orders from an Imperial, but he moved off to one side and began combing through the rubble.
Celes herself used her sword to push aside rubble as she looked. Locke watched her as surreptitiously as he could. He was curious about her right now. She seemed off, not at all like how she'd been in Narshe and Zozo and in the wilderness. There, she'd been doubtful of her future, whether she could atone for what she'd done as an Imperial general, but she'd been sure of herself to the point of arrogance most of the time. But here… even her order for them to look around had been hesitant.
Something was just not right with this place.
Celes had just kicked aside a scrap of metal when she saw it. Pale blue flesh. She'd found the Esper woman.
"I have her!" she cried triumphantly, pushing aside another large scrap of metal, revealing the rest of the Esper.
"NO!" roared a voice, and suddenly the red-skinned Esper man crashed up through the rubble at Edgar's feet. The bull-like Esper was wreathed in a web of flame and his eyes were like orbs of molten lava. "No one shall have us! We will not be made slaves again!"
The Esper let out a roar, pointing at Celes. Before she could react, flames lanced up from the floor at her feet, driving a spike of fire into her chest. The power behind the mystical blow lifted Celes clear off her feet, throwing her back to crash into the rubble. The angle of the room and the rubble caused her to slide towards the chasm before she was stopped by landing against someone.
Looking up, she saw Cyan with a disgusted look on his face before he charged the male Esper.
"Doma eterna!" he cried, sword raised as he rushed the bull-like Esper.
"No! Ifrit!" yelled the other Esper, who then brought her hands together, palms facing out. Without warning, freezing winds slammed into Cyan and Gau, standing behind him, while razor-sharp shards of ice hurtled through the air.
Cyan cried out in pain and fell to one knee, the pure power behind the Esper's magic more than he could take. Gau had been partially covered by his compatriot and took far less of the mystical assault.
Ifrit roared out in laughter, then threw one hand towards Locke. Flames erupted from his palm. But the flames twisted in the air, pouring into Celes' outstretched sword, light blue runes glowing along the blade.
"Shiva!" yelled Ifrit, "Join me against the Nullifier!"
The blue-skinned Esper drew in a deep breath and blew out a breath. Celes felt the intense cold that burrowed deep into her bones. Suddenly she realized how she'd made all the enemies she'd ever frozen feel.
Suddenly Shiva flew to one side, and behind her was Sabin bringing his leg down from the kick he'd thrown at her ribs. As his leg touched down, his hands were already glowing with energy, and he spun, throwing his hands forward, firing an aurabolt at Ifrit. The beam of spiritual energy caught the Esper on the shoulder, spinning Ifrit around and he sank to one knee for a moment.
"Corrupter!" yelled the Esper, who promptly blasted Sabin with roaring flames. The martial arts master just barely managed to remain on his feet, though his shirt was smoldering at the edges and his skin was smoking.
Locke saw all this happening, and knew that the power of these two Espers could only be defeated by the magic of another. His hand went into his pocket, feeling for the Magicite that Ramuh had become. As his hand touched it, he could feel a slight tingle in his fingertips. He had heard the unintelligible whispers in his mind, speaking to him of the wonders of magic. He'd been able to channel Ramuh's lingering power once or twice, but this would be the first time using it for real.
Well, it's now or never, he thought.
Muttering to himself the words that formed the power within his spirit, he suddenly pointed one finger at Ifrit. A bolt of blue-white lightning shot from his fingertip, striking the Esper in the chest.
Ifrit cried out just as Shiva was getting to her feet. The flames that surrounded Ifrit suddenly grew brighter and more… ferocious, as he turned his attention to the young rogue.
"Ifrit, wait!" called Shiva, halting the larger Esper in his advance. The young heroes staggered to their feet, and Shiva walked towards Locke. Ifrit continued to split his glares fairly evenly between Celes and Sabin.
When Shiva got within arm's length of Locke, she paused. "I sense… one of our own. A kindred spirit, and a friend."
"The girl's blood flows alongside our own within her," growled Ifrit, "She is one brought forth through that which was taken."
But Shiva seemed to ignore him, focusing on Locke. She reached out with one hand, and a moment later, the Magicite of Ramuh floated out of Locke's inner pocket.
"Ramuh?" she whispered, "He… he is gone, then. And he has bestowed you with his power."
Ifrit shook his large head. "Ramuh? Impossible. This must be a trick, Shiva!"
"Feel it for yourself, Ifrit," insisted the blue-skinned Esper, "Ramuh has allowed himself to join the lifestream. I can feel… he was at peace with his passing. He entrusted his power to these mortals. Feel the Magicite for yourself if you no longer trust my word."
The larger Esper gave a rumbling laugh. "I have never doubted you, Shiva. Never in all our millennia together."
Shiva favored him with a wide smile, leaving the group of humans confused.
"If you are Espers, then why did you attack us?" ventured Celes, speaking softly and deferentially. The two Espers, while obviously injured by the group's attacks, didn't seem to be in any pain at this point, and Celes wondered if she and the others would have actually survived an all-out fight against them.
"If Ramuh has trusted you…" said Shiva, trailing off at the end.
"We do not have much time," Ifrit said with a growl, "We can only sustain ourselves for a short while longer."
Shiva nodded, taking her companion's words thoughtfully. "We shall trust you. Please forgive us. We have been held by the madness of Gestahl and his minions for many years. They have drained us of power, drawn out the magic that gives us life and strength. Not since the Great War have trusted in the hearts of mortals. Now we are left with little choice but to trust you."
"Trust us with what?" asked Locke, finally sheathing his dagger.
"Our lives, and those of our friends," answered Ifrit, "The mortal known as Gestahl has imprisoned our compatriots; fellow Espers who were taken from our world. Each of us who had been taken had a single destiny in Gestahl's eyes; to be drained of our power to fuel his war against all others. Shiva and I have both suffered our time in their enchanted cells. Tubes of glass, strengthened by magic to be very difficult to break. An Esper at full power could break it without difficulty, but we have been so weakened that even to escape the tubes would leave us vulnerable to the soldiers who guard us. Neither of us has much time left… and most of our friends have already passed beyond comprehension of their surroundings.
Shiva nodded sadly. "We will follow in Ramuh's footsteps. For some reason, he felt that he could trust you. So we too shall entrust you with our powers."
"We will save the others!" declared Edgar, "On the honor of my family, I swear it!"
"Such a foul fate shan't befall your comrades!" added Cyan.
"Farewell, beloved," said Shiva, smiling sadly at Ifrit.
"We shall meet when we are one with the lifestream. Heart and soul forever."
Ifrit suddenly erupted in flames, as though he was burning from the inside out. At the same time, Shiva's body began to crystallize, ice forming over every inch of her skin. Ifrit suddenly seemed to detonate with a roar, and an icy howling wind filled the chamber. None of the heroes knew whether to sweat or shiver.
In mere moments, it was over. Floating where the two Espers had stood before were two Magicite shards, glowing softly with power. Gau and Cyan stepped forward, the only two who did not already have a shard. Locke still carried Ramuh's within an inside pocket of his jacket, Edgar carried Kirin, Sabin had Sirin and Celes had Stray hanging around their necks on silver chains that had magically appeared when they even thought about wearing the Magicite as an amulet.
"Ancients," breathed Locke. He could hardly believe it. He'd been taught all his life that Espers were just myths and legends. Now he'd been witness to three Espers dying, and knew that three others had already passed. This was definitely a world away from his childhood in Kohlingen.
"Now what?"
Celes' question jolted Locke from his brief reverie, and once again he looked at the beautiful younger woman. Ancients but she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. But her hesitation and uncertainty since arriving in Vector were odd, and Locke couldn't understand the feeling in the pit of his stomach. He shook it off, attributing it to his own inborn paranoia.
"Now we go up," Sabin replied, grinning, "unless of course you feel at home with the garbage. I understand some thieves find great treasure in the refuse."
"Treasure hunter," came the grumbled comment from Locke.
While Edgar and Cyan joined Locke and Celes in climbing the stairs built into the far wall, Sabin was doing his best to lighten Gau's mood by turning the climb up the rope into a game. This quickly had the boy laughing.
The stairs were just wide enough that Locke didn't have the feeling that he was about to tumble over the edge, but they were too narrow for more than one person at a time. Leaving Edgar and Cyan behind, he hustled a bit to catch up with Celes. She was climbing at a determinedly quick pace; not looking around to either side of her, just staring straight ahead.
Locke rested a hand on her upper arm when he reached her, causing Celes to turn briefly to glance at him. Locke swallowed hard, and this time not just because he wasn't sure what to say to this beauty. Instead, this time, he saw a look of frostiness, and exhaustion. As though she'd finally come to the end of a marathon, and only now realized that she should have stopped miles earlier.
"Celes, are you all right? Is there something wrong?" he asked her. She didn't turn to face him, but there was a slump in her shoulders that Locke had never noticed before.
"No… nothing's wrong," she sighed, "I just…"
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
At this point, Locke would gladly have tried to move mountains for Celes if she had asked. But she still didn't face him.
"No, nothing. I'm just ready for this all to be over with. I'm so tired of fighting," Celes said quietly. Without another word, she pulled her arm from Locke's grasp and took a few extra steps ahead of the young rogue. This time, Locke knew, he would leave Celes to her thoughts. Being put off by her was a little discomforting to him, but Locke knew that he should give her some space to think.
After a while, they finally made it back to the main level of the facility. Sabin and Gau scouted as silently as they could, but there was no trace of Kefka nor any signs of Dragsonstorm troops in the area. They climbed the stairs that Kefka had come and gone from, finding themselves in a long hallway. Along either side were tubes of glass, every one almost large enough to hold a gobruk. Each was empty at the moment, but steam was rising from many of the machines in the room, which Edgar told the others meant they had been used recently and were now cooling down.
The door at the end of the hall was of stout oak reinforced with strips of steel.
"There'll be a guardroom on the other side," explained Celes, "these reinforced doors can be locked from the the inside with a squad of troops, creating a bottleneck if any force were to try and invade the facility."
"Then let's break it down," said Sabin, stepping forward confidently.
Celes put a hand to the martial artist's chest. "Even if you are strong enough to break the door down, which I doubt, there may be stealthier ways to get past it."
While they spoke, Locke had moved up to the door and lifted the handle. It moved without a problem.
"Door's open," he announced smugly, then he turned to Sabin, who was grinning widely.
Burn him, thought Locke, even getting shown up by me doesn't wipe that grin off his face. Looks like I've got a mission.
The young rogue grinned to himself with that thought.
The next room was small, perhaps only twenty feet from one end to other. A trio of cots ran along either side, with small footlockers at the base of each. At the far end of the room stood another person. Whoever was there was draped in a heavy cloak, but the height and breadth of its shoulders, nearly as wide as Sabin, could not be disguised, and the hood was pulled far down enough to completely conceal his face.
The person's back was facing the group, hands folded at its waist. The figure did not move at their approach; it just remained still in front of the door.
Sabin put himself in front of Celes while Cyan approached the figure, his sword drawn, held back at his hip, blade pointed at the floor. Edgar held his autocrossbow at the ready.
"Good sir," began Cyan, "there doest be no need for thou to fight us. We do outnumber thee. Stand aside and there shall be no reason for you to be hurt. We have no desire for more blood if thou doest not attack. Please sir, there doest be no need for a fool's courage."
When he was within arm's reach, Cyan reached forward and put a hand on the figure's shoulder. Instantly its head snapped up.
"Defensive sequence initiated," came the figure's voice. It was deep but rough and guttural, as though the words were unfamiliar and the tongue was not meant to form such speech.
With lightning speed the figure spun about, one arm flashing out like a viper. Cyan cried out in pain and the others were shocked to see blood seeping through his armor and jacket.
Locke gasped and Gau snarled as the figure paused for a moment. It looked human, with a man's broad shoulders, but the face was almost blank. The nose was tiny and the mouth was only a thin line. Blackish-blue hair fell down about his shoulders, and the eyes were a lifeless black. The being's arms were powerfully muscled, but where each wrist should be sprang a long blade of black metal, reaching nearly to his knees.
"Bloody Ancients!" cried Edgar, who without a moment's hesitation brought up his crossbow and loosed a trio of steel bolts into the creature.
The figure grunted, which was its only indication that the bolts had been felt. Gau leapt forward, roaring like a lion, a terrifying sound coming from the young boy. Two fists crashed into the being's chest, sending it stumbling backwards, off-balance. But if the blows affected it, the figure gave no indication. Two quick cuts with its arm blades had Gau on the ground, with bleeding cuts above both knees.
Celes pointed a finger at the being, crying out the last word of what she had been muttering; an indecipherable syllable that harnessed the power of magic in her soul and in those words. Frost crawled up the being's legs, and its breath created misty clouds with each heavy exhalation.
"Back up and take cover!" yelled Sabin, "We need more room to maneuver!"
Even as he said that however, he himself leapt forward to look the creature in the eye. His fists lashed out as merely blurs to the others, striking with palms, elbows, fists and forearms, each one landing against the being's ribs on the left side. A spin and Sabin drove the heel of his boot into his opponent's jaw, and the others heard a sickening crack. The being's jaw hung at an angle, and blood, nearly black in color, dripped freely, staining the light blue shirt that it wore.
But still the creature seemed to feel no pain, striking back against Sabin with a furious all-out assault. Sabin gave ground, his hands a blur once again, but this time in rolling parries, catching and redirecting the being's blows where its wrists should have been.
"Back up!" cried Sabin, "We're coming through!"
Locke held a dagger in one hand, and with the other was convulsively clutching the Magicite of Ramuh.
Oh Ancients, he thought desperately, how do we stop this thing? Edgar's bolts don't hurt it, Celes magic, Gau's or Sabin's fists… Burn me we need some help here!
The Magicite suddenly grew warm in Locke's hand, and he could almost feel the crystal shard reaching out to him, trying to draw Locke's very spirit into itself. It was as though it was trying to make Locke the fuel for whatever it was about to do. The feeling reached its peak just as Sabin and the creature came back through the door. The sudden sensation of a spark shooting out of his chest nearly knocked Locke to the floor.
On the far side of the creature, still engaged in its deadly dance with Sabin, something shimmered. A figure, tall with snow-white hair and a long beard, dressed in emerald robes appeared, still somewhat ethereal. It was Ramuh.
But how? Ramuh died, I still have his Magicite shard in my hand, thought Locke in amazement.
Ramuh said nothing, but stared at the creature battling Sabin, and now Cyan as well, who despite the cut across his chest was moving with swift and sure techniques. Ramuh's eyes sparkled, and then they began to crackle with lightning, and the orb capping his quarterstaff did the same, lightning sizzling all around it. Then a pair of massive bolts of energy lanced across the room, exploding into the creature's back. The being gave an eerie howl of pain as it stumbled forward, pitching forward as it went to its knees.
Sabin and Cyan wasted no time nor breath. Sabin's elbow came down like an avalanche against the being's spine, and Cyan brought his sword plunging through the heart. The being fell to its face without another sound, and did not move again.
"What the bloody hell was that?" breathed Edgar, his crossbow still pointed steadily at the unmoving figure.
"I… I had heard some rumors," ventured Celes, "a series of experiments meant to bond the power of Espers to people."
"A different way to create Magitek Knights like yourself?" asked Sabin.
Celes shook her head. "No. It was an attempt to create something stronger in magic and less independent. An automaton of a kind, I believe they called it Number 024, with no thought or will of its own, only the commands of its masters. It must have been the latest of the same series of experiments"
"So they came up with this… monstrosity," commented Locke with a sour expression.
"That's similar to what a lot of people have called me," replied Celes icily.
Locke's jaw dropped. "No… that's not… I didn't mean… I mean, not like… you're not, umm…."
Locke stumbled over the words, several apologies flashing through his mind, and not a single one seemed good enough. Each one had something about it that would likely anger Celes, and that was the last thing he wanted. She was twitchy enough when it came to him already.
"You're not a monster, Celes," Sabin told her, despite a snort from Cyan, "you weren't given a choice. None of us were. No one has a choice of how they're born, the only choice we have is how we live. Some who are born choose to live their lives as monsters, and some monsters choose lives of peace. We are who we choose to be."
Locke looked around; Edgar was nodding slightly at his younger brother, while Cyan looked at him with the pride a father would have at a son's accomplishments. Gau had a happy smile as he hugged Celes around the waist, saying he liked her, and she was no monster. Celes herself seemed to take strength and confidence from Sabin's words, standing straighter and with a smile more meaningful than it had been before.
Burn him, thought Locke, how does Sabin always have the right words, especially for Celes, and I'm always tripping over my tongue around her. He needs someone other than Celes to give those attentions to.
"We should keep going," Celes said, her voice strong and steady.
"Indeed, Lady Celes," agreed Cyan, "we must be prepared for anything. We canst not know what other foul creations Gestahl may have beyond thee doors."
"We know one thing he has back there," said Edgar, "Espers. I think we should relieve him of the burden of keeping such a secret from the rest of the world. What do you guys think?"
Sabin grinned. "The stress of this secret must be killing him, Ed. I agree, we should help him out."
"Waroo! We free Espers, we free Espers!" sang Gau as danced around a bit.
"Quiet!" hissed Celes, "It would be really dumb for us to be caught this close to our goal, wouldn't it?"
"Right," agreed Locke, "we still have to find the Esper here who can help Terra. I just hope Kefka hasn't already drained him or her of all their energy."
"We won't let her down," said Sabin with fierce determination in his eyes.
Locke moved towards the door that had been blocked by the experimental creature and pushed it open. Celes was the last to step through the door, watching her companions as they stared around the room.
The hall was a long metal walkway, more than 20 feet across, and clearly not constructed with any other part of the research facility, for the walkway was suspended over a seemingly bottomless pit that faded to blackness below them. Along either side of the hewn rock walls were cables and machinery holding many more glass capsules, each of them as large as the ones before; large enough for creatures the size of a gobruk or a Gigas ogre. Nearly 10 feet of empty space separated the walkway from the glass containers, most of them empty save for the hissing of steam.
But six of the capsules were filled with a translucent liquid, slightly blue in color, and within the liquid of each floated an Esper.
Each one was unique, some with figures that could be mistaken for human at a quick glance, but they all appeared… more than just human. Shoulders were broader, arms thicker, or they were slender and more graceful. They possessed skin of varying hues, with eyes and hair of colors none of the party had ever thought was possible. Others seemed more bestial, with traits of certain creatures, though some among them had the characteristics of many creatures mixed together.
One and all though they seemed barely conscious.
"Bloody Ancients," whispered Locke.
Slowly, all six of them made their way down the walkway, to the intersection with another metal catwalk going across. They stared at the Espers floating in the capsules with quiet awe.
Edgar looked over at his companions. The first face his eyes fell on was his brother's, and stopped there. Sabin looked sick to his stomach, eyes full of pain and horror and disgust. Edgar considered how rare it was to see his younger brother, the heir of Ironhand, so vulnerable. Edgar wondered if his brother, with his unique powers learned from Master Duncan, could actually feel the Espers' pain.
Ahead of them, at the intersection of the two walkways was a control console of astounding complexity. Various gauges, levers, knobs and switches were scattered about, some of them labeled, most were not. Labels said things along the lines of "Redistribution of holding solution," "Intensity of holding grid," and similar descriptions.
Edgar hurried ahead of them, sweeping his autocrossbow left and right, seeing a set a doors at either end of the intersecting walkway, then he moved to the console.
"King Edgar, doest thou have any idea how to work this monstrous contraption?" asked Cyan, his voice full of disgust.
"Give me a minute," replied the Figaran king.
"Half a minute," Locke put in.
Celes strode up next to Edgar, looking over the console with him. She noticed that Edgar didn't touch anything. Only his eyes moved, the rest of him was so still that he might as well have been frozen. Behind those sky blue eyes, Celes could almost imagine gears turning as he examined the controls, considering his options and eliminating possibilities. Celes realized that she'd never really considered how smart Edgar really was; he was deciphering one of the most technologically advanced control consoles in the world just by looking at it.
Without warning Edgar thrust his crossbow at her.
"Here, hold this for a minute," he ordered, and then his hands flew over the controls.
After a moment, there was a sound like dull roar, and each of the six capsules separated, spilling blue liquid into the black abyss. The front part of the capsules fell forward, just barely meeting the walkway. The Espers had been held by numerous cables, some that merely encircled limbs, holding them still, others that were driven into their skin.
As one, all six Espers turned to regard the party, eyes hard with the experience of a thousand years and more. What sense of victory the young heroes had felt evaporated under the power of those ancient gazes.
"You have saved us," one said weakly, his brownish skin had clearly once been the color of good oak, but now it was pale and sickly, "though you have no reason to risk yourselves. Why do this?"
"Ramuh, and Ifrit and Shiva asked us to help you," said Celes, "we need your help with a friend."
"You wish to help us…?" said the Esper wonderingly, "None have sought to help us since before the Great War was waged."
"Maduin," came the voice of another Esper, though it was not clear which one it was, "we do not have long. Our strength ebbs, there is no recourse but to join the lifestream."
The Esper, Maduin, looked at his fellows before turning back to the party. "We are not long for this world; we have not the strength to maintain ourselves. As Ifrit, my friend, and others have done before us, we shall grant you what little strength we have left. Do well with this power, and honor the memory of those who came before."
All six Espers began to erupt with power; lightning and fire and ice, sparks with every color of the rainbow, scorching heat and freezing cold, the crash of breaking glass and the still of silence following, searing light and blinding darkness. All of this and more assaulted the party, forcing them to turn away from the upsurge in power.
The span of time that existed between when the surge of power ended and when the mortal heroes were finally able to turn back could have been mere heartbeats as easily as it could have been centuries. Where the six Espers had stood or lain before, now only a half-dozen shards of Magicite floated in the air. Celes stretched her hand towards them and they gently moved through the air before coming to rest in her palm. Without a word she handed them over to Edgar.
When he looked at her questioningly, all she said was, "I know Cyan won't trust me with them."
Edgar held the shards gingerly, feeling the warmth that pulsed through them. He could almost imagine himself holding life itself in his hands.
"Let's get out of here," commented Sabin.
The others nodded, but just as Edgar opened his backpack to store the Magicite, Gau snarled. A moment later the sounds of pounding footsteps reached their ears, and a moment later a man burst forth from down the corridor.
"No, no no no no!" cried the man as he stared around at the shattered glass capsules. He was not a tall man, his head probably barely reaching Locke's eyes, wearing the dark clothes of commoners beneath a hooded yellow longcoat, stained with soot and grease. His spectacles reflected the light in the room, magnifying his already large green eyes. Gray-specked auburn hair poked out from the hood, the same as his thin moustache and beard.
Strangely, the man ignored the group for the first few moments as he stared around in horror, almost whimpering at the remains of the holding capsules.
"Ruined," he moaned, "absolutely ruined. The Espers, there'll be no replacing them."
At that moment he finally realized he wasn't alone in the chamber, and he nearly jumped back in surprise, his eyes widening with shock.
"What…?" he cried, "Who are you?! What are you doing here?! What in the name of the Ancients have you done?!"
Before anyone came up with any kind of reply, the man's eyes darted to the Magicite shards still in Edgar's hands. They still glowed with a light of their own and pulsed with life and power.
"So that's, that's it then," said the man, stroking his beard, "That's why there was always energy left, even after all these years. Condense the power, but only in death. But since the Espers are themselves born of magic, how could an Esper die? Unless death is a choice… to pass on their power to another when they are too weak to survive on magical energy alone. Bloody Ancients! Brilliant!"
"Professor Cid," Celes said sharply, and the man's eyes suddenly refocused, realizing that they were still there.
"General Celes," he replied warmly, with a smile that his beard couldn't hide as he walked towards them, "it is good to see you home again. I was beginning to think Gestahl would never call you back from your mission in the north. It does my heart well to see that you're all right. Now who might these rather dubious characters be, eh? Your troops?"
He smirked at them, as though he had never seen a more bizarre group of soldiers in his life. Which, being a part of the Empire, he probably had not.
Celes struggled with herself, with the urge to smile and cry, to wrap her arms around the only man who had really ever cared for her, to blurt out everything that had been happening in the past few months. Her throat was thick, and tears burned at the corners of her eyes.
"No, you see…" Celes didn't know how to tell him.
Cid's eyes narrowed, taking a look at the group once again. This was not the ever-wandering look of an absent-minded genius. This was the gaze of a genius, who was evaluating what was before him and applying that mind to a logical end. The young heroes were suddenly very worried.
"There are rumors," Cid said in a low voice, "rumors that you came here as a spy, seeking to cause an uprising. Tell me this is not true, Celes. Tell me I did not bring up to betray everything we have worked for!"
"I…"
Words failed her. The pain of betrayal in Cid's eyes cut her more deeply than the blade of any foe. If there had been anyone in her life with the Empire who had been anything close to Gestahl, it was Cid. She could not deny it, but she could not admit to it.
Locke gaped at Celes. Why wasn't she saying that she had abandoned the Empire and joined the Returners? Why wasn't she saying the truth, unless… Locke tried to bury that errant thought back in the little hole it had come out of, but it stayed resiliently. Could it be she couldn't blow her cover yet, was she an infiltrator like Cyan had always maintained? Locke felt like his heart was ready to jump into his throat, and his breathing became shallow.
"Celes?" he croaked, barely recognizing the sound as being his own voice, "Are you… did you…?"
Celes opened her mouth to reply, but a cackling laugh echoed down the chamber. Kefka strode in behind them, dragging the lifeless body of Number 024 behind him, then throwing it dismissively into the abyss. From the doors on either side of the group came a trio of Magitek armored soldiers, and behind Kefka marched a dozen Dragonstorm troops. All their weapons were aimed at the rebel heroes.
Celes stepped forward, putting herself between Kefka and the others. But the mad general turned it to his advantage, grabbing Celes around the shoulder and spinning her around so that the two of them were shoulder-to-shoulder, and then Kefka held Celes close to him. She tried to struggle, tried to pull away, but she could not escape from that nearly-supernatural strength.
Kefka laughed at the slack-jawed astonishment present on the faces of Celes' companions. There was nothing sweeter than pain and chaos. He turned his eyes to the crystal shards that the Figaran king held in his hands and glared at them, then turned to look over his shoulder at Gestahl's pet scientist.
"They have to die for us to take all their power! Cid, you witless, miserable blockhead! Each of those shards could power an army alone!" raged Kefka, causing the scientist to take a few steps back, "Now, General Celes, time to end this game. Take those shards and let's go. We'll leave these worms to their fates with our troops."
Kefka's horrid laughter echoed through the chamber's silence, while Celes turned to Locke, trying to say something, anything, but words caught in her throat at the look of betrayal in his eyes.
"Celes," breathed Locke, "You… did you… you're not… you, you deceived me?"
Locke's accusing words, and the look in his eyes made Celes feel as though her heart wanted to stop beating. "No," she breathed desperately, "please Locke, have some faith."
"Faith?" echoed Kefka mockingly, then continued through his laughter, "Oh Celes, you tricked all of them? How precious! These cretins actually believe that you're one of them, that you're a Returner! That's cold. That's so, so… you! Now finish the mission and collect those shards!"
Locke gasped at Kefka's words, how they were said with such familiarity. The reality began to sink in, surrounded by Imperial troops, having followed an Imperial General of all things right into a trap. Not only had they turned over ranking members of the Returners, but the king of Figaro and Knight-Retainer of Doma. Cyan had been right from the beginning. They should never have trusted her.
"Locke…" whispered Celes, staring at him. Everything that they had gone through, the battles they'd already fought together, none of it meant anything. Just a few words from Kefka and they knew that they'd been betrayed.
"I… I…" Locke tried to speak, but there were no more words that could come out of his mouth. To think that this was the same girl he'd found chained beneath South Figaro, the same who had been so wondrous at the opera house, the same whose eyes he didn't want to turn away from. The girl he'd grown to know was a lie, she had made him protect her, care about her, worry for her, even… But she'd lied. She was a traitor.
She betrayed us all… she betrayed me. Why Celes? Why?
Kefka's laugh hardly made them move. "You are such a wonderful actress, Celes! But the show's over now. Finish it!"
Celes looked at the others, without the strength even to argue with Kefka. Locke was looking at her as though they'd never met before, like he didn't know her at all. Cyan's glare was filled with fury, knowing that he had never trusted her from the start and now to be so forcefully proven right galled him. Edgar looked sick, fear on his face, obviously thinking about Figaro and what would happen to his people. Gau was confused, looking worriedly between herself and the men. Sabin wasn't looking at her, but instead his eyes flicked back and forth between the three groups of Imperial soldiers.
Her eyes met martial arts master's only briefly, but he showed compassion in his gaze. Then, with a confident smile, winked, and then nodded at the Dragonstorm troops behind her.
"I'm tired of all this!" snapped Kefka, "Destroy the fools! Exterminate them all!"
The Magitek soldiers on both sides of them let loose with the power at their disposal. Beams of searing white-hot energy and flashes of ice so cold as to freeze them to their bones hurtled at the party. The catwalk melted and exploded and froze around them, flinging them in different directions even as they scattered.
Celes leapt closer to Kefka, avoiding the blasts that were coming nowhere near the madman, and Sabin's own leap carried him high into the air over the beams of energy, and bringing him down into a predatory crouch, his hand drawn back, wisps of flame rising from his steel-plated glove.
The others unfortunately, had caught the majority of the blasts. Locke was struggling to push himself back up onto his good leg, the other was twisted awkwardly, probably from having the knee knocked out of the socket. Cyan's and Gau's hair were both rimmed with frost, obviously the elder knight had done what he could to protect the young boy. Edgar fared the worst, unwilling to risk losing the Magicite he had fallen to the ground and curled into a ball to protect the shards. A long burn across his back still sparked with the occasional crackle of lightning and he groaned in pain, hardly moving.
"You monster!" screamed Celes, "Call off your dogs, you bloody lying bastard! I'm not your spy, not your lackey! And I'm not Gestahl's either! You were trying to have me executed! Tell them!"
Kefka laughed and shook his head mockingly. "What a performance! Oh Celes, I knew you were good, but not that good. Quit trying to put on such a show. They know who you are now, you can stop the charade. We all know your loyalty to Gestahl is unquestioned."
"You liar!" raged Celes rushing at Kefka and smacking him across the face with all the strength she could muster.
An angry red handprint marked that deathly pale face and Kefka snarled wordlessly, then grabbed Celes around the throat.
"If you want to fight me like the others, then you can die with them!" he rasped. Kefka then flung her backwards until Celes nearly landed on top of Locke, still struggling to his feet.
There was a gash across Locke's forehead, obviously from landing the wrong way on the catwalk, and blood flowed from the gash into his eyes. Celes looked at the others, also struggling, at Kefka watching them mockingly, and at Sabin, still poised for action, looking like he was getting ready to move.
Celes knew Sabin was good, fast, and the heir of Ironhand, but there were still six Magitek soldiers and a dozen Dragonstorm troops. He might be able to take out one or two of the Magitek soldiers on his side, but the last would take him out if the three on the far side didn't do it first. This was beyond him, she knew that. But there was still something she could do.
When Celes met Sabin's roving eyes, she swallowed hard. Sabin shook his head slightly. She ignored him.
Celes leaned down closer to Locke, slipping the Magicite shard of Stray from around her neck and putting it in Locke's hand.
"This time, Locke, I'm going to protect you," she whispered, "just this once, let me protect you. Maybe then you can believe me."
Locke's eyes opened briefly through the blood dripping in them as he felt Celes gently stroke his cheek, and he gasped her name.
But Celes charged at Kefka, throwing her knee into his stomach, then wrapping her arms around his head and shoulders, holding the madman immobile. The weapons of all the Imperial troops immediately zeroed in on Celes, but grappling with Kefka they dared not fire.
Celes began to murmur unintelligibly, her eyes closed and her face a mask of concentration. She delved into the power of magic, the cold power that had always been hers. The chanting aided in this, ancient words of power that she had never been taught, but that were able to harness and channel magic through her.
The chamber began to tremble slightly, and then shook violently. Imperial soldiers and Returners alike were thrown to the floor, only Celes and Kefka remained standing, through all of Kefka's struggles. Light was white as sunlit snow began to shine from Celes, quickly becoming blinding to all the others.
She ignored the cries from the others, from the weak gasps of Locke and Edgar to the defiantly strong yell from Sabin, telling her not to do this. But she had to do this, this time she would be the one to save them, save all of them, especially… She blinked away the tears in her eyes.
"Celes! NO! What are you doing!" demanded Kefka, "STOP IT!"
The blinding white light flashed with an explosion of power, knocking everyone backwards. Locke knew this was it, this was the end. He offered quick, silent prayer to the Ancients that it would be painless, and then he waited for the inevitable.
He waited for what might have been five seconds or five years, there was no way for him to tell. It took him that long to realize he hadn't been scorched by flames or frozen with ice, but his leg did feel better. None of which he'd expected. Very slowly, Locke opened his eyes, looking down at his leg. It was straight, and there was no pain when he rolled his ankle. Then he turned to take in the rest of the chamber… and gasped.
Aside from himself, the other four men and Professor Cid, the chamber was empty. No Magitek soldiers or Dragonstorm troops were there with weapons ready. Kefka was gone, and so was Celes. Locke stood up, and noticed Edgar do the same. The king's tunic was irreparably shredded across the back, but no injury marked the flesh.
"We're alive," he murmured.
"Indeed we are," replied Sabin, a grim look on his features.
Edgar looked around in confusion. "I don't get it. Last thing I remembered was getting blasted by Kefka and Celes' troops."
"They weren't Celes' soldiers," growled Sabin.
"Whoever they doth, they art gone for now," put in Cyan, scowling.
Professor Cid, shaking as though he was going to fall apart, stood up as well, readjusting his spectacles on his face. He rubbed the back of his neck wearily.
"Bloody Ancients, what the hell just happened?" the scientist asked himself, then looked around, seeing it was only himself and the rebels, "Celes? Kefka?!"
"Where Miss Celes be?" asked Gau.
"Celes? She's… she's…" Locke tried to think, past her betrayal, past her siding with Kefka, she'd… There were two shards of Magicite around his neck. "Oh bloody Ancients!"
Locke nearly fell to his knees as he realized what Celes had done. His hand closed convulsively around Stray's shard, the one Celes had carried. He didn't know how Celes had done what she did, and he wasn't even entirely sure why, but he knew one thing.
Celes was gone, and it was he who had betrayed her.