Chapter 29

Sorceress' Knight (Part 1)

(Seifer)

The sun.

Having spent days locked in a windowless cell deep underground in D-District Prison, he notices the brilliant yellow orb in the sky first, before anything else registers.

He takes stock of his senses. Not only is the scenery different, but he is different as well. His body is thinner, older, lacking the strength and surety he is accustomed to. The fabric of a dress rustles against his knees and ankles. He moves with carefulness and grace, as if the world is made of thin paper that would tear if he handled it recklessly.

He dislikes this new body immediately.

(The hell's goin' on?)

His eyes—that are not his eyes— look down a rocky hill towards a white sand beach. There, beside the eternal ebb and flow of the waves, five children are playing: three boys and two girls. Their cheerful shouts and laughs carry along the sea breeze, mingling with the waves and the cries of birds, forming into a pleasant discord.

His lips—that are not his lips—curve into a contented smile. Seifer absorbs all this information, processes it, and comes to one conclusion. The shore is familiar. The children are familiar. This body is familiar to him as well, but he has never experienced it from this perspective. Always before, he saw this person from the outside.

(Oh.)

(This is the past.)

His confused anger transmutes into annoyed anger. He feels violated. His mind has been invaded, his consciousness sent—against his will—to a point in the past that is neither relevant nor interesting to him. He wants his body back. He wants to return to the present.

He focuses his thoughts, attempting to overcome Matron's body through a sheer act of determination. He tries to tighten his muscles and clench his teeth, channeling his anger into a singular white light in his head, then narrowing that beam of light into a thin, pure line that he hopes can sever his ties to the past like a laser cutting through steel.

Nothing changes. At least, nothing changes the way he would want. Below, on the beach, the children continue their game undisturbed. Up near the doorway to the orphanage, Matron continues to stand and watch and smile. Though he is no longer in D-District, Seifer is still nothing more than a prisoner, doomed to helplessly watch this scene unfold. Doomed to have no ability to affect the course of the events that he is forced to observe.

Like a ghost.

(All right, Ellone. Ya proved your point.)

(Now let me out.)

She doesn't answer him. Nor does she release him. Seifer cannot tell if he is being punished, tortured, imprisoned, or if he is meant to learn something from this experience. Perhaps, he thinks, it is a combination of all of those things. Ellone, he knows, has the ability to send someone's consciousness back in time, to a person or a setting of her choosing. She must have put some thought into where she would send his mind. She must have a reason to send him here, to this particular time and place.

(Why?)

He calms down by a degree as he watches the rest of this memory play out.

Time and the act of junctioning Guardian Forces have dulled Seifer's memory. He can recognize himself down on the beach among the others, but he has no recollection of this scene, what game they are playing, or what childish idiocy drove him to consent to play a game with the others in the first place. It's all a blank, and he is tempted to assume that this is a false memory, constructed to antagonize him. But enough of the details ring true enough for him to feel confident that this must have been a real event.

Matron's vision is not perfect and the beach is a fair distance off, but he can still pick out his younger self among the others at the beach. His short blond hair and familiar blue shirt make him stand out from the others. Even as a child, he moves with intent and focus, desperately trying to win the game at any cost. The only other blond boy on the shore—Zell—has his hair spiked straight up and he runs like his shoes are on fire, all jumpy and jittery, with no control or purpose.

(Always a chicken-wuss.)

Seifer is amused to see that his childhood self is not truly playing with the others. Rather, he is playing against the others. Young Seifer stays to the edges of the game, sneering at Zell and hurling taunts and jeers at the others. It comforts the grown version of Seifer to see himself this way. To know that his identity has been forged from birth. That he was, is, and always will be Seifer Almasy. He can't imagine the horror he would feel if Ellone sent him back to the past and he discovered himself playing with—and having honest fun with—the other children. The shock would surely kill him.

The memory goes on and on. The children play. Matron watches. And Seifer's sense of frustrated impatience mounts. Nothing is happening. Nothing is changing. If Ellone is showing him this vision for a certain reason, to teach him some particular lesson, he is so far unaware of what it is meant to be.

(The hell's your point, Ellone?)

(Cut this crap out.)

She does not release him, but he is finally granted a change of scenery when Matron turns from the doorway and reenters the orphanage. The white stone pillars outside and the cool stone brickwork are instantly familiar to him. Her hand touches the door and closes it behind her, sealing off some of the sounds from the beach. She moves to a small closet, her long dress flowing around her legs, and she pulls out a straw broom and sets to work sweeping off dust from the floor.

(Oh hell.)

(Send me back to prison.)

Matron meticulously sweeps the floor, digging out little piles of dirt from every crack and corner in the orphanage and piling it all in a small metal dustpan. She walks to an open window and upturns the dustpan, sending the contents flowing into the breeze.

For what seems like hours, Seifer is subjected to the numbing monotony of Matron's daily chores. She finishes sweeping, then decides to wash the windows. After the windows, she does the dishes. After the dishes, she begins the process of washing the children's clothes, putting them all in a large wooden basin to soak with soap.

Washing, sweeping, mopping, dusting, cleaning, sorting, stacking.

Always in motion, always working, yet never seeming to do anything.

Seifer wants to vomit, but his throat is not his own.

(LET ME OUT, DAMN IT!)

He repeats this scream in his mind again and again. Matron cannot hear him. The children of the past play their games, oblivious. But he knows that Ellone can hear him. She is the one linking him to the past. She too, is bearing witness to this scene. And if he cannot convince her to take him out of this pathetic excuse for a memory, then he will ensure that she has to suffer along with him.

(LET ME OUT!)

(LET ME OUT!)

(LET ME OUT!)

"LET ME OUT!" Seifer yelled, sitting up suddenly. Immediately, he recognized that he was no longer in the orphanage and no longer in Matron's body. He looked down at his hands. His hands, and no one else's. His body was his own again. His own muscles, his own teeth—clenched tightly in frustration—his own short, blonde hair. He was wearing his trench coat again.

(Fricken finally.)

He curled one gloved hand into a fist, reveling in the fact that he was once more in control of his body and his surroundings. He exhaled through his mouth, then looked up. In front of him stood Squall, holding his gunblade tightly in one hand. Behind him stood four Esthar soldiers, each carrying a rifle pointed at Seifer. Ellone waited in the back, behind the soldiers. Seifer looked at her and snarled. He put one hand down on the hard metal floor to push himself up to his feet, but Squall jumped quickly in front of him, resting the point of his gunblade just beneath Seifer's chin.

"Don't move," Squall said.

Seifer froze, then scoffed. Squall's threat was meaningless to him. He didn't care if Squall held a blade to his neck or not. Seifer was not afraid of death or pain. He looked up into Squall's eyes, daring him, challenging him to strike. Several seconds passed with neither of the two moving a muscle. Seifer scoffed again, then decided to get his bearings and think of a plan.

Ignoring Squall's blade entirely, Seifer searched around the room. At first he was confused. He was sitting on the floor between two long rows of individual red bucket seats. Behind him was a glass window that also stretched over to form a majority of the ceiling. Through it, he could see blue sky and clouds whipping past at fantastic speed. It only took him a moment to realize where he was.

(The Ragnarok.)

"You know," Seifer said with a cocky grin. He turned and stared up at Squall. "I never was much of a jealous man, but I always wanted a ride in this thing. Seemed unfair that you and the rest of the idiots should have all the fun."

Seifer turned and looked at Ellone, a predatory smile creeping over his face.

(She's the weak point. If I can get to her…)

"Ellone, stay back," Squall said, taking a step to the side to place his body between Seifer and Ellone. All the while, he kept his gunblade firmly pointed at Seifer's neck.

(You ain't scarin' me.)

Seifer angled his head to the side to peer around Squall's legs.

"Speakin' of you," Seifer said to Ellone. "Why the hell'd you me to the orphanage? You tryin' drive me crazy or somethin'?"

Ellone had her hands clasped together in front of her chest. For a moment, she looked small, frail, and afraid. But then she met Seifer's gaze and her face hardened. She seemed older than her years.

"I wanted to show you how it used to be," Ellone said. "I know you were never… well, you were never the most cooperative child. But you can still get along with Squall. You don't have to be enemies, you two."

Seifer grinned and raised his arms in an exaggerated shrug. "Ya know what? I agree. I'm willin' to let bygones be bygones. But you know, I just can't stand it when someone's in my way. Or when someone's got a blade to myfricken neck. And unless the situation changes, I don't think Squall and I are on the fast track to friendship."

He looked up at Squall and glared. Squall's eyes returned the gaze, refusing to back down. His expression was cold and impassive, but not hesitant or fearful. Seifer knew he could not risk calling Squall's bluff and starting a fight now. There was too much strife between them, too much antagonism. If Seifer made a wrong move, he had no doubt that Squall would go for a killing strike. Seifer had very little wiggle room at the moment.

(Just gotta play my cards right…)

"Ellone," Squall said, not taking his eyes off Seifer. "Get to the sorceress and see what you can do with her. If you hear something—anything—suspicious from this side of the ship, or if we sound the alarm, put Seifer under again right away. Even if you aren't sure. Better safe than sorry."

"Right," Ellone said. She spared one more wary glance at Seifer, then stepped towards the door at the back of the room. The large metal door automatically slid into a recess in the wall and she stepped through. The opening closed behind her, leaving Seifer with the four Esthar soldiers and Squall.

(Well, my chances have gotten better.)

Ellone could still send him back into the past at any time, but as long as she was out of the room and out of direct contact, she would need someone else to tip her off first. But there were still too many people in the room. Too many armed people. He decided to wait for a better opportunity.

"So that's what you did, eh?" Seifer asked. "Used Ellone to knock me out. Clever. Why not just hit me with a sleep spell or somethin'?"

Squall sighed. "Not everyone's as dumb as you." Seifer sneered in response. "You were casting magic," Squall continued. "Obviously, your junctions are still up. Which means your status junctions are up as well. Casting a sleep spell would have just given you an opening to attack."

Seifer raised his eyebrows. "Not bad. Seems all that schoolin' paid off for you. So what's next? You gonna stand here with your gunblade on my neck all day? Bet yer arm'll get tired after a while."

Squall took a step back, then slowly brought his gunblade down to his side. He did not tuck it in his beltloop, choosing instead to keep it firmly in his grasp and ready. Still, Seifer knew that he was making progress. With Ellone out of the room and Squall's blade no longer against his throat, his odds of escaping were improving dramatically.

(Keep at it. He'll slip up soon.)

He glanced at the four Esthar soldiers that stood behind Squall. Three of them were wearing the standard uniform: slate gray with colored joint pads to mark their different ranks. But the fourth, standing in the back, was wearing a darker gray uniform—almost black—with bright blue joint pads. Seifer recognized it as an Esthar android. He was surprised to see that there were still androids in existence. He hadn't heard of any being used in combat since the Sorceress War.

(That's the dangerous one.)

(The other three should be easy to handle.)

"The sorceress," Seifer said. "You said, 'get to the sorceress.' I'm guessin' you weren't talkin' 'bout your girlfriend, right?"

Squall nodded in agreement.

"So you took Ciel," Seifer said. "You use the Ellone trick on her too?"

"No," Squall said. "She doesn't junction, so a stop spell was effective enough."

"It won't last," Seifer said. "She'll come out of it eventually."

"That's why Ellone's going over there," Squall said. "To keep her out of trouble."

"Tch. You're talkative today," Seifer said. "Ain't you supposed to the quiet one in the group?"

Squall shrugged. "I'm just answering your questions, that's all."

Seifer narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why?"

Squall sighed. "Because I'm tired of fighting you. Because, despite everything that's happened, I've come to realize that I don't hate you. I don't want to take revenge on you. I don't want to punish you. I just want you to stay out of my life."

"So then go," Seifer said. He nodded his head at the exit. "Leave. Get out. I ain't gonna keep ya."

Squall shook his head. "If I do that, then you're going straight to an Esthar prison once we land. You see, Esthar is still rather upset about the Lunar Cry. You almost destroyed their city. In addition, you played a part in releasing Adel from her tomb. You could easily be tried and executed in under a day in the Esthar courts and no one would shed a tear for you. Assuming that no one kills you before you even make it to trial, that is. You're not very popular in Esthar, from what I hear."

The three human guards tightened their grips on their rifles, as if silently agreeing with Squall's statement.

"So what?" Seifer asked. "You just said you don't care. So why bother?"

(He wants something. He's playin' some game.)

"I'm giving you a choice," Squall said. "If you want, you can come with us to Esthar. We'll put you in chains and keep Ellone hovering around you at all times in case you try to escape. When we arrive, we'll turn you over to the government and you'll almost certainly be executed. I might be able to pull some strings with the president, but I wouldn't count on it if I were you. That's your first choice."

Seifer snorted.

"Your second choice is this," Squall said. "We can land in Fisherman's Horizon on our way to Esthar. We'll dump you off at some random dock and leave. I can't guarantee that the Esthar government will never come looking for you. Nor can I guarantee that you won't just end up right back in D-District. But you'll have a chance to keep your life and your freedom. That's your second choice."

"What's the catch?" Seifer asked.

"Stay out of trouble," Squall said. "After all we went through to get you out of D-District, it'd be a waste if you got busted again. But I'm willing to take that chance. Don't go thinking that you're somehow indispensable to our plans. We came to D-District to save the sorceress. Bringing you along was just a precaution, in case you were about to spill anything to the Galbadians. This is the best compromise I can offer you. However, the only way it works is if you keep your nose clean. If you start causing problems again, you'll draw attention. From Galbadia, from Esthar, and from us. And if you're caught again—by anyone, even by me—there won't be another chance for you. Understand?"

(The hell does he think he is?)

Seifer raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Keep outta trouble and you stay the hell outta my life?"

Squall nodded.

"Tch. Yeah, right," Seifer said. "You're full of it. This's some kinda joke."

Squall shrugged. "Honestly, what do you have to lose? You know I'm not lying about what will happen to you if you go back to Esthar. And like I said, I don't hate you. I just don't want to see you again. Whether you die in an Esthar prison or disappear into FH makes no real difference to me. But I figure I'll give you this one last chance to prove yourself."

"Why? 'Cause we grew up together?" Seifer asked. "Feelin' sentimental, Squall? A little misty-eyed?"

"If that's what you want to believe, then fine," Squall said. "I don't care either way."

He hated it, but he had to admit that the offer was tempting. Esthar probably despised Seifer as much as Galbadia did—if not more so. And he had already experienced first-hand what the G-Army was willing to do to pay him back for his various crimes. He knew that he would be lucky to get nothing more than a swift, painless execution if he allowed himself to be turned over to the Esthar government.

But at the same time, it was an offer from Squall. Frickin' Squall, of all people. That arrogant, self-righteous SeeD. Furthermore, it was a pity offering. Squall wasn't making this deal to get on Seifer's good side. He wasn't doing it because he wanted to make amends. And he wasn't doing it because he was afraid of Seifer. He was doing it because he felt sorry for Seifer.

And if there was anything Seifer hated, it was pity.

(To hell with his damn pity.)

He continued formulating escape plans in the back of his mind, having already dismissed Squall's offer without further consideration. But as he contemplated his options, he remembered that Ciel was also aboard the ship. He'd come to admire her strength and ferocity—especially during combat—and it didn't sit right with him, leaving her in the hands of Squall and the others.

(I'll just have to save her too, then.)

"So what happens to Ciel?" Seifer asked.

"We aren't going to kill her, if that's what you're worried about," Squall said. "Esthar bears no grudge against her. In fact, given all the damage she's done against the G-Army, she's practically an ally."

"Nice. So you're gonna recruit her?" Seifer asked.

"We'll try," Squall said with a shrug. "But personally, I don't like our chances of winning her over. She's volatile, aggressive, and unpredictable. I hate to say it, but our best bet might just be to lock her in the Sorceress Memorial until we come up with a better solution."

Seifer's lip curled at the mention of the Sorceress Memorial. To him, it was an abomination. A perversion of the natural order. Seifer very much believed in survival of the fittest. That the strong would survive and that the weak would perish. That was the way the universe operated.

Sorceresses, to him, were the pinnacle of strength. By their very nature, they wielded unimaginable power that no other single human could replicate. Therefore, according to the laws of the universe, sorceresses should be the rulers. And in the ancient Centra civilization, they had been. The sorceresses had dominated that kingdom for generations. The enlightened rule of the sorceresses had brought peace, power, and prosperity to the Centra.

But modern people were weak, stupid, and cowardly. They feared other people with power. And so they persecuted sorceresses, because they did not understand them. They could not control them. Instead of accepting their fragility and submitting themselves to the rule of their betters, they fought against the sorceresses, against nature. Why, Seifer wondered, did people think sorceresses existed? So that they could be shackled, hunted, and killed?

(No. Power is meant to be used.)

No one else seemed to understand that simple fact. So the people of Esthar had created the greatest affront to nature imaginable: the Sorceress Memorial. Where a sorceress could be sealed away in a protective anti-magic bubble, locked in suspended animation indefinitely.

The weak oppressing the strong.

"That's your big plan?" Seifer said slowly, unable to hide his growing rage. "You're just gonna lock her up if she don't fall in line?"

Squall sighed. "If she won't fight for us, then we'll try to convince her to give away her powers to someone else. But there's no way for us to force her to do that, so if she refuses then yes, our only option is to send her to the Memorial."

"What about your damned girlfriend?" Seifer snarled. "She's still a sorceress, right?"

Squall tensed and stared icily at Seifer. "Yes. She is."

"You ain't planning on sendin' her to the Memorial, are you?" Seifer said.

Squall shook his head. "Why would we?"

"Because she's a sorceress too, you damned hypocrite!" Seifer almost screamed. "What if Rinoa doesn't toe the line, huh? What if she breaks off and tries to do her own thing? You gonna lock her up too?"

Squall didn't answer. He didn't even blink.

"Yeah, I thought so," Seifer said. "You don't give a damn about Ciel. You'll fight the whole world, bend friggin heaven and earth to protect your little girlfriend, but if Ciel so much as sneezes you'll call her crazy and lock her up. You're terrible. Whatever bad things you think about me, you're ten times worse."

Squall took a deep breath, formulated his answer, and then spoke.

"I'm not doing this because Ciel's a sorceress," Squall said. "You've got that mixed up. I'm doing this because she's dangerous. She's like a child with a loaded rifle. She's too immature to have so much power. It's the same now as it is in SeeD. We don't give weapons to people who can't handle them. It's not because we hate weapons, or that we have some prejudice against people with weapons. We're just being logical. You first have to prove that you can handle power responsibly. And she has failed that test so far."

Seifer sneered. "And what makes you sure that Rinoa's so different? Ya really think she's ready for all this? What if she cracks under the pressure?"

Squall was about to argue, but Seifer detected a momentary hesitation as Squall checked himself and thought through his answer.

(He ain't sure.)

The corner of Seifer's lip curled up into a triumphant smile. "You never really know what another person's thinkin', do ya, Squall? Maybe Rinoa's got a handle on all this. Or maybe she's already on the edge, just one push away from losin' her mind. You might think you know, but you don't. Only she knows, and she ain't tellin' you."

"I trust Rinoa," Squall said.

"Sure you do," Seifer said. "But then again, maybe it's just yer hormones talkin'. Maybe you don't really trust her. Maybe you just want to trust her."

Squall had no answer to that. Seifer crossed his arms in front of his chest. Unarmed and outnumbered, he still managed to secure himself a minor victory over the smug SeeD.

(He ain't so tough.)

"So don't judge me," Seifer said. "You ain't as perfect as you think. One day you'll figure that out."

Instead of continuing the argument, Squall changed the subject.

"So do you want to land in FH or not?" Squall asked. "Last chance."

"Only if Ciel comes with me," Seifer said.

Squall shook his head. "Not an option. She's more important than you."

Seifer shrugged. "Then I'll see you in hell."

Squall nodded. He turned his head to address one of the Esthar soldiers behind him.

"Bind his hands and strap him to a chair," Squall said. "From now on, Seifer Almasy is officially a prisoner of the Esthar government."

"Yes, sir!" the Esthar soldiers said in enthusiastic unison.

The three human soldiers advanced, while the android continued to wait by the door with its weapon trained on Seifer. Squall moved off to the side of the passenger bay, holding his gunblade out towards Seifer. The soldiers fanned out as they approached, making it so that Seifer wouldn't be able to take them all out in one attack. With an internal snarl, he realized that the passenger bay was too cramped for him to maneuver or cast a spell. As soon as he tried anything, they'd all be on top of him. And he was aboard the Ragnarok as well. Even if he got out of the room, it wasn't like he could just jump out a window. He'd been outnumbered when he fought the G-Soldiers in Balamb, but at least there he had somewhere to go, possible escape options.

He grimaced, but allowed the soldiers to roughly pull his arms behind his back and tie them together with some sort of plastic binding. They shoved him over to the chair closest to the front of the ship and rudely pushed him into it. Then, using more plastic straps, they bound his elbows to the armrests, effectively securing him in place.

Squall circled around the room and stood before Seifer again.

"We've still got time before we reach FH," Squall said. "If you change your mind between now and then—"

"I won't," Seifer said.

Squall shrugged. "Have it your way."

With that, Squall strode down the center aisle between the seats. He paused at the doorway and looked at one of the soldiers.

"Does this door lock?" Squall asked.

One of the soldiers turned to him. "No, none of them do. This ship wasn't meant to hold prisoners."

Squall nodded and left the room. Seifer could hear the automatic door open, then close, leaving him alone with the four guards.

(Ellone's gone, and now Squall's gone too.)

(It's just me and these Esthar chumps.)

He looked over his shoulder to see the situation. The human soldiers had him surrounded on three sides, their rifles leveled at his head. The android, however, continued to stand near the back to guard the door.

"Go ahead, try to break out," one guard said to Seifer, leaning forward with his rifle threateningly. "Just give us an excuse."

Seifer ignored him. He continued to gaze around the room and think about his situation. Despite the appearances, he rather liked his chances of escaping. In fact, he was so confident that he could escape his situation that he decided to increase the challenge. He would no longer be content merely to escape his captors; he wanted to take over the Ragnarok as well. Squall's offer to dump Seifer in the backwaters of FH was practically a joke when he was sitting aboard one of the most powerful pieces of military technology ever conceived by humanity.

(If he'd offered me the ship, maybe we coulda come to an agreement.)

He pondered for a moment about the importance of the android in the back. When he first woke up from that memory of the past, he considered the robot to be the third most threatening thing in the room, after Squall and Ellone. The android would not be limited by human emotions like fear, pain, or remorse. It would act immediately and decisively to carry out its mission. In addition, it was augmented beyond normal human strength and speed.

But after further consideration, he realized that it was actually a weakness in the group because it was dumb. It could not think through a situation logically or respond to sudden changes appropriately. It behaved according to a broad list of parameters set out in its AI. If Seifer could think of a way to exploit the loopholes of the system's AI, he could possibly neutralize the android.

He gazed up and out the front window, watching the blue sky rush towards him as he explored all his options. He had a fair variety of spells at his disposal, but he was running low on almost everything. It had been a long time since he, Fujin, and Raijin had gotten a chance to restock their magic. He had plenty of fire magic stocked from repeated visits to the Fire Cavern, but that was about it.

(Just gonna have to get creative.)

His first thought was to try to toss a confusion spell at one of the guards and then hope the confused guard would take out the other two. But that plan, he realized, depended on massive amounts of luck. There was no guarantee that the confused soldier would attack his allies first. And then, even if Seifer was lucky enough to be spared from the initial assault, it was all too likely that the soldier would turn on him once everything else in the room was dead. There were too many variables, so he discarded that plan.

He considered other status magic, especially berserk and stop. But berserk would only guarantee that one of the soldiers would rush at him in a blind fury. It was practically suicide to cast that one. And while stop might be effective, it only worked on one individual at a time. He'd need to cast three spells simultaneously to hit all the human guards. And he didn't have any triple spells left in his inventory, which made that plan useless as well.

Several minutes passed. A kink developed in his shoulder. He grunted and squirmed in his seat, trying his best to find a better position. All three guards took a half step forward and put their fingers on the triggers of their weapons. Seifer narrowed his eyes at them.

"Settle down, boys," Seifer said. "Just got a cramp."

He worked out the knot in his shoulder while he mentally went through his list of spells one more time.

His training at SeeD had not done much to prepare him for this type of situation. He had once taken a class for how to cope with imprisonment and interrogation, but most of those lessons were copied from decades-old torture endurance techniques that didn't apply to his current situation. Modern warfare had only recently begun to incorporate para-magic into its dogma. Even in SeeD, para-magic was still treated like a rifle or a sword—just another weapon used to kill as many people as quickly as possible. Given an open field, a clearly defined enemy, and a variety of spells, then Seifer or any other well-trained SeeD would have hours and hours of training to fall back on.

But any non-traditional use of para-magic had never been covered in his classes.

(Good thing I always believed in doin' extra practice on my own.)

He'd always hated classrooms. Much of his education at Garden was spent out of the books, out of the classrooms, on his own in the fields surrounding Garden. He would take whatever spells he could acquire and then spend hours at a time learning new and unconventional ways of using them. Things that wouldn't occur to other students or even the instructors.

An idea formed in his mind. But first he would have to test to see how much freedom he had to maneuver. The guards were watching him closely.

He shuffled around in his seat. With his elbows tied to the armrests and his hands bound behind his back, movement was difficult. But with a little bit of effort, he found that he could tuck his hands into the small of his back. By arching his back forward a little bit and resting his shoulders on the backrest, he could form a small hollow that had enough space for him to form a spell in his fists. His large, billowy trench coat came in handy in this situation, as it obscured his hands from being seen from the sides.

He stopped moving, letting his hands rest in the small of his back. His guards still watched him attentively, but they didn't seem to be alerted by this behavior.

(So far, so good.)

Next, he tried forming a spell. He gathered just enough energy to create the beginnings of a fire spell, then immediately severed his connection with his powers. Then he looked around. Once again, the guards seemed unmoved. He had been concerned that the Esthar army had developed a technology that allowed them to detect when someone was using para-magic. Evidently they had not.

The next part was tricky. He prepared for this step by adjusting his elemental defense to render himself partially immune to gravity magic. He didn't have enough magic stocked in order to get full immunity, but he was content with what he could scrape together. He closed his eyes and focused.

He envisioned the ship, the passenger bay, himself, and the relative positions of all four of his guards. Then between his hands he formed a small black ball of energy, roughly the size of his fist. When it was ready, he aimed it downward and set the gravity spell to trigger just below the floor. He opened his hands and sent the spell on its course.

The gravity spell silently passed through his chair and through the floor beneath him. If any of the guards saw anything suspicious, they gave no signs of it. A moment later, the gravity spell detonated, increasing the immediate area around Seifer to several times normal gravity.

The three guards collapsed to the floor as if boulders had been dropped on their heads. Sprawled helplessly on the hard metal, they could not attack, they could not call for help. With the crushing effect of the gravity spell, they could barely even breathe. Even with Seifer's partial immunity, he found himself clenching his jaw and fighting to avoid blacking out.

Below him, out of sight, a tiny piece of the ship's frame was being compressed into a singularity by the gravity spell, a chunk of metal squashed into the size of molecules. Seifer had known that he couldn't cast a spell directly at the soldiers without alerting them or the android, but he could cast a spell downwards on the Ragnarok itself without being noticed. Although the attack wasn't focused on any of the guards, the gravity spell still had a powerful residual effect on everything within a certain radius of it. It was one of the neat things he'd learned about demi spells during his solo practice sessions.

Behind him, the android came to life. It raised its rifle to its shoulder and approached him cautiously. This new and unexpected behavior from the guards was enough to send it into a heightened alert status, but nothing in its programming told it to shoot Seifer immediately. That was the weakness Seifer sought to exploit. Because the robot hadn't seen Seifer do anything, nothing in its AI would trigger it to attack. It continued to approach him warily, but didn't fire its weapon.

(Now the robot.)

With the guards momentarily incapacitated, he was free to attack the android. His first instinct was to kill it with a quick death spell, but he seemed to remember learning that death spells worked by interfering with the victim's nervous system, causing instant, fatal trauma to all organs and the brain. He wasn't sure if the magic translated over to androids, so he went with the next best thing.

As the gravity spell faded, he summoned a translucent brown orb in his hand and flicked it out at his inhuman guard. The android had enough time to see the orb spinning through the air before the "break" spell hit it in the chest. With the sound of gravel crunching together, sparkling brown stone spread over the android's body, entombing it in rock in an instant.

Working quickly, Seifer brought up one more demi spell and cast it in the same spot as the previous one. It burst under the floor and reactivated the intense gravity effect just moments after the first spell faded. Now, with the gravity spell freshly cast again and the robot neutralized, he had time to kill all three guards with separate death spells.

He summoned up a black orb and sent it to fly into the heart of the first guard. The gravity spell was fading as the second guard died of Seifer's next death spell. The gravity had returned to normal levels by the time Seifer got the third spell ready, but fortunately the third guard was still too stunned and disoriented from the attacks to do anything but moan incoherently as the black orb sucked into his chest and stopped his heart and mind.

Everything was suddenly quiet. Three dead Esthar soldiers lay sprawled on the ground. The petrified android stood in front of the door, frozen forever in a rather elegant attacking stance with its gun on its shoulder. Seifer grinned.

(Easy.)

His restraints proved to be more difficult to handle than his guards. Whatever synthetic material they were composed of was incredibly durable. He struggled in his seat for a few moments, trying to break them with his junction-augmented strength until he realized that it was impossible. He paused for a moment, took a breath, and glanced over his shoulder.

No one was at the door. No one was coming to get him. He was alone, but he had no way of knowing how long it would be until someone came along. He needed to act quickly. But he hadn't planned this far ahead, and had to take another few minutes to figure a way out of his bonds.

His first thought was to use magic again, but none of the spells in his inventory would work. Fire might prove to be useful in melting through the synthetic straps, but anything that would be hot enough to burn through his restraints would also fry him as well. Similar problems cropped up when he considered other spells available to him. Everything he had was either ineffective or too powerful to be used with any precision. He grimaced.

(I've come too far to screw this up!)

He couldn't bear the humiliation of nearly escaping only to be foiled in the end by plastic straps. He imagined Squall walking in on him now, seeing the bodies, and seeing Seifer still struggling pitifully against his restraints.

(I ain't gonna let him get the best of me!)

Seifer looked around at his seat. On the inside of the armrest, he noticed a tiny switch. There was no way to know what it would do, but at least it was something he could try. He had to contort his body until his joints cracked and his back went into spasms, but he was just able to reach it with his fingertip. He flicked the switch and the backrest reclined with a sudden thunk. He frowned at the backrest, which was now angled forty-five degrees away from him.

(The hell am I supposed to do with that?)

He considered it for a moment and realized that, with the chair reclined, he could slide his arm restraints backwards along the armrests and down to where the armrests ended. His arms cried out in pleasure when the loops popped off the armrests, freeing them from their awkward positions. The two plastic straps now dangled uselessly from his arms.

He stood up triumphantly, glad to have escaped the chair, but his hands were still tied behind his back. He bent forward and worked his wrists down to his upper thighs, squeezing his hips between his forearms. He sat back down on the edge of the chair and wiggled his wrists up his legs, painfully bending his muscles. Seifer took pride in his physical fitness, but always neglected his flexibility training. Now he was beginning to regret not taking his stretches seriously. One at a time, he managed to sneak his feet through the gap between his arms until he got both his hands in front of him, rather than behind.

He looked down at his wrists and clicked his tongue.

(Now what?)

If the Esthar soldiers put these restraints on him, then they must have had some way of removing them. He went to the nearest downed guard and began rummaging through his uniform. He found nothing, so he moved on to the next guard. He tried to remember which one had put the restraints on him to begin with, but since they all wore identical uniforms, it was impossible to tell.

The second guard had a small plastic wand in his pocket, roughly the size of a pen. When Seifer pushed a button on the side, one end of the wand glowed a bright red and hummed with energy. The air around the tip of the pen shimmered with heat and he could feel the warmth radiating on his skin when he brought it near his face.

(Some kinda soldering pen?)

He shrugged. Whatever it was, it looked like it might work. He fumbled to get the pen in his hands with the glowing end pointing down at his wrist restraints. He clicked the button again and pressed the tip against the restraints, careful not to slip and bump his wrists or his clothes with the burning hot end of the pen. The synthetic material of the bonds sizzled and hissed at the touch of the pen, then gradually melted away. The restraints snapped and his wrists came free. He stood up, stretched, smirked. Now that he was free, he could focus on the next step of his escape.

(Ciel.)

Just like in the prison, the sorceress was key to his plans. Her power was necessary if he was going to have any chance of beating Squall and Rinoa. Not only that, he'd started to develop a certain fondness for her. Despite the harsh torture, she had never broken down or lost her will to fight. He could respect that. Even if she wasn't a sorceress, if she wasn't key to his plans, he'd still consider rescuing her.

He rested the soldering pen on his chair—the tip had already cooled off after he released the button—and considered his next move. The ship was probably crawling with Esthar soldiers who wouldn't hesitate to shoot him on sight. He glanced at the downed guards and eyed their uniforms. One of them was roughly Seifer's size. He pulled off his own trench coat, gloves, and boots and set to work stripping the dead soldier and putting on the Esthar uniform.

The uniform stank of rubber and chafed him in odd places. It was too tight in the joints and the helmet pinched his neck, but the rest of it fit him reasonably well. He stuck the soldering pen in his pocket in case he needed to burn off Ciel's restraints. He stuffed his regular clothes in a pocket underneath the seat where they would be unlikely to be seen, then picked up a rifle and headed for the door. It automatically slid open when he was a pace away from it. He stepped through and into the Ragnarok's central body.

(Now, where the hell am I?)

He had never been inside the ship before and he struggled to get his bearings. To his left was a wide elevator that only went up. Remembering what he could of what the ship looked like from the outside, he figured that the elevator went to the bridge. While his ultimate goal was to seize control of the ship, he wanted to save the bridge for last. Getting to the bridge without rescuing Ciel or taking care of Squall and Rinoa first would just leave him trapped in the bridge alone.

On the far side of the elevator was another closed door. Directly across the room from him was a third door. There were no markings to indicate where he was or what was on the other sides of those doors, so he made a guess. He walked forward and through the door.

It opened into a large room which Seifer realized was the ship's boarding ramp. He could see a wide door at the far end which he presumed opened to the outside, allowing personnel and supplies to board the ship. There were two more doors, a large one to his right and a smaller one across from him.

The door opened into the second floor of a hangar area. A walkway extended before his feet, heading to a door at the far end of the hangar. To his left was a set of stairs leading down into the main hangar area. Two guards were in the corner of the room, talking to each other.

Wanting to avoid the guards for now, Seifer walked across the bridge to the door at the far end of the hangar. He tried his best to look confident and secure, but he felt awkward in the Esthar uniform.

(Stupid uniform.)

The door at the far side of the hangar led into a small hallway leading to the airlock. For once, the doorway was actually clearly marked, letting Seifer know exactly what was on the other side. Knowing the location of the airlock might prove useful in an emergency escape situation, but at the moment, it had no value to him at all unless he wanted to hurl himself into the ocean and die.

He turned around, continued to walk as if he had a purpose. This time he headed down the stairs, his Esthar shoes clicking on each step. The two guards glanced at him, nodded, and resumed their conversation. Seifer got down to the first floor and looked about him.

There were two doors leading out of the hangar. One massive door in the center, and a smaller door underneath the steps. He assumed—guessing based on what he knew of boats—that the larger door led to the boarding ramp. He walked towards the smaller door instead, and it opened as he approached it.

The room beyond was a small storage room, not much more than a short hallway. Numerous replacement parts for the ship lined shelves on either wall. There were only a couple lights in the ceiling, casting murky light into the room.

He saw Ciel laying on her side, her hands bound behind her with synthetic straps. Two Esthar soldiers watched over her, and Ellone was standing at the far end of the room, her eyes closed. He glanced down at the sorceress and saw that she was fast asleep, lost in the dreamland of the past. Seifer strode confidently into the room, just far enough to let the door automatically close behind him.

(Showtime.)

"Is there a problem?" one of the soldiers asked.

"Yeah, my gun," Seifer said, holding up his weapon.

"What's wrong with it?" one of the soldiers asked, approaching him. Seifer cracked him in the jaw with the butt of the rifle, then swung the barrel around and caught the other soldier on the side of the head. Both hit the ground in under a second.

Ellone didn't notice a thing. She was too involved in whatever memory she'd connected Ciel's consciousness to. Seifer crossed the room, stepping over Ciel, and considered what he wanted to do to Ellone. He was angry that she had invaded his mind and forced him to relive an agonizingly monotonous vision of the past. And he knew that as long as she was alive, she would be able to do it again, anytime, anywhere.

He brought his rifle to his shoulder and pointed it between Ellone's closed eyes.

(If I pull the trigger, it'll all be over.)

Squall and Rinoa's ace-in-the-hole would be neutralized. Ciel would be freed from the past, and the two would be able to fight Squall and Rinoa on equal footing, without Ellone's interference. Seifer still remembered the battle in D-District. Even with the support of the Esthar soldiers, Seifer and Ciel had been too much for the others to handle. Seifer had no doubt that he could take on Squall in a rematch and win.

(All I gotta do is get rid of Ellone.)

He put his finger on the trigger.

(Sis.)

It'd been a while since he'd last thought of her that way. "Sis." Everyone at the orphanage had called her that at one point or another. Once, as a child, Seifer had even forgotten what her real name was, because he'd gotten so accustomed to calling her that.

(Just pull the damn trigger!)

The memories continued to flow. Seifer had stopped calling Ellone "Sis" after she disappeared. When Ellone vanished from the orphanage, it broke Squall's pathetic little heart. He went on a childish rampage, continually on the search for Ellone, looking everywhere he had the courage to look. Calling "Sis! Sis! Sis!" the whole time. Squall said that word so many times that Seifer got sick of hearing it. He was the first of the orphanage group to start calling her "Ellone" again, just to spite Squall.

(Sis.)

He put the rifle down. Disgusted with himself, he snarled a curse into his helmet.

(I can't kill her.)

He held the rifle in one hand and then used the back of his other hand to strike Ellone across the cheek—hard, but not hard enough to do any damage. Ellone's eyes fluttered open as she staggered to the side, fighting to keep her balance. Behind him, he could hear Ciel moan as she slowly regained consciousness.

"Don't be thinkin' that this means I'm weak," Seifer grumbled. He called up a sleep spell and put Ellone into a different kind of unconsciousness. She slid to the floor then curled into a relaxed little ball. Her cheek grew red where Seifer had slapped her awake.

Ciel worked herself into a sitting position, eyeing Seifer warily. Before she could call up a spell and obliterate him, he yanked off his helmet and revealed his face.

"It's me," he said. He tossed the helmet down on the floor.

Ciel frowned at him. "How'd you get out?"

Seifer grinned cockily. "They underestimated me."

He quickly crossed the room to reach the sorceress. She raised both her bound wrists to him.

"They put this stupid bracelet on me," Ciel said, glaring at her wrists.

At first, Seifer thought she was talking about the restraints. But then he noticed a large silver bracelet clamped around her left wrist, like one half of a pair of handcuffs. Seifer narrowed his eyes at it.

(The hell is that?)

"I have no idea what the hell that is," Seifer said.

"It's ugly," Ciel said. "Get it off me."

(Whatever it is, it's gotta be important.)

(Maybe it's some kinda tracker?)

He set the rifle down on the floor, then fished the soldering pen out of his pocket. He pushed the button, making the tip glow bright red. First, he cut off her restraints, freeing her wrists. She held up her left hand so that he could cut off the bracelet.

He grabbed her forearm with one hand to hold her steady while he began the delicate process of cutting off the bracelet. The first half went easily enough, but as he got closer to Ciel's skin, she began to wince with pain as the heat from the pen burned through the metal and into her skin.

"Keep going," she said, grinding her teeth in silence. Seifer worked quickly, and the bracelet soon snapped off. Ciel rubbed her wrist with her other hand, an angry red burn forming on her skin. She called some magic and poured it into the wound. The burned flesh healed back to her regular color.

"What's the plan?" Ciel asked, rising to her feet.

"Squall and Rinoa," Seifer said. "We have to take care of them before anyone else. They're the big threat. If we can catch 'em off guard, that's our best shot."

"Right," Ciel said. She looked around the room, at the downed guards and at Ellone lying asleep in the back of the room. "I don't know where they went."

"Don't worry, we'll find them," Seifer said. "This ship's not that big. Follow me."

But Ciel didn't respond. Her eyes were wide open, staring at a point in the wall just over Seifer's shoulder. He followed her line of vision, but saw nothing unusual behind him. He looked back at her and put one hand on her shoulder.

(The hell?)

"You okay?" he asked.

She didn't answer. Her head began to tilt to the side as her neck muscles went limp. Her jaw slackened, and her mouth fell open. Then she collapsed to the floor in a heap, her head thumping hard against the cold metal. Seifer knelt at her side.

"Hey! What the hell?" he asked. He slid his hand under her shoulders and propped her up. He shook her once. "Wake up!"

Seifer looked up towards Ellone, wondering if she was somehow responsible. But Ellone was still under the effects of the sleep spell. She lay at the far end of the room, curled up, her face dull with sleep.

(Maybe she's fakin' it.)

Seifer was about to set Ciel down and check on Ellone when Ciel jerked in his grasp, as if she'd gotten shocked by a small electric current. Seifer looked at her.

Then Ciel's eyes snapped open.

But they were not her eyes.

Without changing her features, with nothing physically different about her, Ciel had seemed to have aged twenty or thirty years. Her eyes were frozen steel, utterly unmerciful. Her jaw was set in grim determination. Her muscles were rigid with coiled strength.

It was then that Seifer noticed the change in the air. He felt a power, a tingling feeling that was different than before. It was harder to breathe. The room seemed smaller, somehow.

The feeling was familiar.

(It can't be…)

"U… Ultimecia?" he whispered in awe.

Ciel's eyes met his. Her gaze alone was like a kick to the face. Seifer almost dropped her as he jerked in surprise.

"You know my name," she said. Her voice was the same, but her accent had shifted, the cadence of her voice was new. She sat upright, then rose to her feet. There was a new elegance to her movements, a surety of mind and of purpose that Ciel did not possess. While Ciel possessed raw power, Ultimecia wielded both power and experience, and it showed in her every movement, in her very being itself.

(I knew it!)

(I knew Squall couldn't kill her!)

Exalted, Seifer rose to his feet proudly. Then he got to one knee and bowed his head.

"Ultimecia, I am Seifer Almasy, your loyal knight," he said.

Her lip curled.

"I've no need of a boy knight," she said. "Especially not one garbed in the uniform of Esthar."

Seifer fought down an urge to scowl. When he had first cast his lot in with Ultimecia, he had tried to be rebellious, tried to react with anger at her cruel indifference towards him. But he was soon taught the error of such actions. Repeatedly, and violently. Since then, he'd learned to keep his emotions in check when in her presence.

Somewhat.

He clenched his jaw.

"The uniform's just a disguise," he said.

(Wait, why doesn't she already know me?)

His resolve wavered as this doubt entered his mind. He and Ultimecia had spent a great deal of time together, in their battles across the world. He would understand if she was displeased to see him, or if she mocked his failure, or even if she had no desire at all to be around him anymore. But there was no way that she wouldn't recognize him at all.

Then he remembered, back in D-District, how Ciel had said that she could get into people's minds and make them do things. He wondered if this was a manifestation of that power. Had she somehow gone into his head and pulled out the memory of Ultimecia, producing such a perfect copy that even Seifer couldn't tell the difference?

(Is she screwin' with me?)

Still kneeling, he looked up at Ciel's eyes. If this was some deception, then it was a flawless one. Her face, her tone, her expression, her body language. Seifer had never before seen anyone who carried herself with such absolute power until he first met Ultimecia. Ultimecia was the physical embodiment of strength and her supremacy came off her in waves of heat.

(This can't be Ciel.)

(Even if she's fakin', there's no way she'd feel this strong.)

He tried to think of a way to know for sure that it was Ultimecia, not Ciel. But how? If Ciel could read his mind and produce an immaculate Ultimecia copy, then any information Seifer knew about Ultimecia, Ciel would know as well. So asking her a personal question wouldn't solve it.

Ciel—or Ultimecia—looked around the storage room.

"This is the Ragnarok," she said. Her mouth turned up in a wicked smile. "Even across all these generations, it has not changed. Wonderful."

Seifer wondered whether that counted as proof or not. After all, how would Ciel know the name of an Esthar military ship?

(Maybe she read my mind?)

Seifer didn't know. He didn't even know if Ciel could read minds. Although he still wasn't sure who he was speaking to—Ciel or Ultimecia—he decided to run with it either way. If it was Ultimecia, then great. Things could go back to the way they were before the debacle in the Lunatic Pandora. And if it was Ciel pretending to be Ultimecia, then that was fine as well. So long as Ciel helped Seifer kill Squall and Rinoa and take over the ship, who cared if she pretended to be someone else?

"There's a SeeD aboard the Ragnarok," Seifer said. He knew from experience that the word "SeeD" evoked powerful hatred from both Ultimecia and Ciel. Using this word was a trigger for violence in both women. He saw the fury rise in her eyes as he said the word. "He's the knight of another sorceress aboard the ship. A girl dressed in blue. The others are only Esthar soldiers."

"Is that all?" the sorceress asked.

"Yes," Seifer said.

"I see," the sorceress said. She looked at the two unconscious Esthar soldiers on the floor. One of them was beginning to wake up. He moaned and stretched out a hand blindly, reaching for empty air.

"You have left them alive?" the sorceress asked. "Sloppy."

She extended a hand towards the pair of soldiers and they dissolved into particles. There was no sound, no burst of light, no sign that she was even straining herself. The soldiers lay on the floor one moment, and the next they were nothing more than multi-colored specks being slowly drawn into the ship's ventilation shafts. Seifer's jaw slid open.

(It's gotta be Ultimecia.)

(Ciel could never do that.)

Ignoring Seifer entirely, the sorceress turned around, as if looking for more possible soldiers than Seifer might have left behind. Her eyes alighted on Ellone.

"And who is she?" the sorceress said.

"She's Ellone," Seifer said. "She has the power to send people back into the past. I left her alive too."

Seifer tensed for a moment, wondering if she was going to dissolve Ellone into particles, the way she did with the two soldiers. Seifer found himself hoping that she wouldn't, but then he realized that he would make no attempt to stop her if she did. He held his breath, waiting.

"So she is an heiress?" the sorceress asked. "Interesting."

Seifer worked his mouth, fighting for something to say. "I-I don't know what that means."

He knew, obviously, what an heiress was. He hated school, but he wasn't a moron. But something about the way she spoke the word told him that she did not mean to say that Ellone was due to inherit property. Perhaps the word had some greater significance in the future.

She ignored his statement and turned to face him. "She is still alive, you said?"

"Yes," Seifer said. "She's under a sleep spell."

"Good," the sorceress said. "She will prove useful later."

She summoned up another sleep spell, stronger, more focused than Seifer's, and then cast it at Ellone. Ellone didn't move but she seemed to fall into an even deeper sleep, her body becoming more limp and lifeless.

At that moment, a burst of static emerged from the far side of the room. Seifer could hear a small, electronic voice echoing towards him. He realized it was coming from a small radio placed on the shelf next to Ellone's body.

"All soldiers, alert!" Squall's voice said over the radio. "Seifer is loose! Ellone, do you read me? Put Seifer down now! I'm coming for you!"

"Tch. Looks like we lost the element of surprise," Seifer said.

The sorceress snorted. "We shall not need it."

Without another word, she began to stride for the doorway. Seifer rose to his feet and followed.