Here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy! The word document for this is over 200 pages long.
I am trying to add some Fanille fluff in soon, I promise! Story is propelling itself along, and it needs a break. luckily, the story plan should allow for that next chapter. Until then though, have this, and Merry Christmas!
I've also got a Christmas oneshot for Final Fantasy XIII coming up, which isn't my best, but you might want to check it. Should be going online on the day.
Back on topic of this one, enjoy!
It was the first of many; beheld by none, and yet still, its presence may well shape the future of the world. A tiny little thing, a glimmer. Yet enough to strike fear into many hearts.
The glimmer of Maker-Light rose onwards, further up through the realm of Etro.
Far, far below, Dajh, Kirin, Choco, Cid, the Mist Dragon, Bartholomew Estheim, Hecatoncheir, Bahamut, Fang and Vanille wandered across the landscape.
Kirin, the new, golden Eidolon, seemed to enjoy the new company. She enjoyed skipping along the land, occasionally peering back with her ornate face, silent, yet acting as if purring.
As the party trekked on, to the rough area of Lightning's house out of hope that the weakening boundaries between life and death caused by Fang and Vanille would allow them to speak, tell of Balduin, Kirin stayed a few paces ahead, always, running in circles, skipping forwards, and then running in more circles. She seemed to enjoy the futility.
The group didn't pay much attention to the waist-high, yet almost childish, Eidolon's antics, instead discussing among themselves, thinking and plotting, and even gossiping. The similarities between this Limbo and life made things easier to comprehend, just about, easier to understand, think about, and live through. There was little tension from simply being there, and no fear of the deathly landscape surrounding them, as by rights there should be. Things seemed tranquil more than anything. Especially now, after meeting its Goddess.
Though Etro had long since left, it was hard to believe she had gone completely. She was the Goddess of this realm after all, chances are she could watch them somehow, maybe she was watching from the Eidolons, or maybe the Eidolons were talking to her. They were supposed to be her messengers after all.
As they walked on, another spark of light gently twinkled, from a distance. Pure white, with the texture of crystal. It hovered where it appeared, oddly no longer ascending. Conscious.
The Sylph were there for exploration into life, for that was another world, and true, they were greater at manipulation. But for this realm, she was simply reaching through a door, a door long since slammed shut, but a door nonetheless. And so She had greater control, and so She could see.
The Maker beheld with fury. Red and black. Red hair and black hair; two Gran Pulsians, among the two longest lived beings She had known.
Once they had called Her. Twice they had fought her. The first Ragnarok brought Her closer, while the second did also, but prevented the final summoning. And the third time, the most recent, they had been at their most infuriating, using their physical bodies as a barrier. It should not have prevented Her, but she was using the Sylph as a vessel.
And now they were here, having fallen through when restraining Her? The Maker hoped so, some penance at long last.
But still, fury burned. She was not afraid, no, She was incapable of that, merely irritated. But for Her, even the slightest irritation was akin to the greatest rage.
She would remember them.
A pale blue light formed near the Maker-glimmer. For a few seconds, they watched the Chosen together. Then the blue light spoke with Etro's voice.
"I may not harm you, nor may you harm I." it sounded as melodic as always, "The rules still apply. They shall always. You use tools and I speak to friends, the way things have always been. You should not have banished yourself, for this is my land, you do not have the reign you bore over Life here. It is too late for regret. Your theft of my souls has pitted you against I, though I am sad to say it. May you not simply bid your creations farewell?"
Etro's impassioned plea drew to a close. A lone word pulsed out from the light, not in sound, but in thought; the essence of the word itself.
Begone.
The meaning was so much more than the word suggested; it was a command, it was a shout, but it was also a threat. I have made my choice. Let things play out to their natural end. I know what consequences we may face, but I shall continue regardless. Leave now. I know the rules, but if pushed, I may disobey.
Both lights were extinguished in the same breath.
Far, far ahead, Vanille was dropping back a little way, shaking her head as Fang made to follow. Frowning, the elder woman obeyed.
The Eidolons walked in a circle around the group, Kirin sat the front, the Mist Dragon above, and the other two either side. Vanille dropped back behind the whole group, cautious, but also curious.
Silently, she removed a small, blue leaf from her pocket.
Speak.
The one word was written on the striking flora. The redhead frowned, before holding it close to her lips, and whispering. "Can you hear me?"
I do.
She didn't see the script change, but instead, as she moved the leaf away from her mouth, it was as if the text had always been those two words.
Shivering, Vanille spoke again. "I don't know if the others remember, but I do. The legends of Oerba weren't just about Hallowed Pulse and you."
She took the leaf away, but the text was still the same. Vanille blinked, and the text seemed to flicker, as if Etro was indecisive, pausing. Eventually, legible script appeared.
You speak of Lindzei.
"Yes," Vanille squeaked, unintentionally loud. The others looked back at her. She giggled. A moment later, she looked back down at the leaf.
It is not a good topic.
The leaf flickered again as Vanille watched, feeling her hands grow cold from where they held the leaf.
The viper, the serpent, Succubus, Accursed One, the demon.
One term appeared at a time, each a blink apart. Eventually, Etro began to speak properly, her words forming on the leaf.
Fell Lindzei was locked away.
Blink.
Deeper than any other.
Blink.
There is little risk of His return.
Blink.
For all Her faults, your Maker has one shared trait
Blink.
With all. Hatred of Him.
The leaf flickered indecisively, before eventually settling on a phrase.
Until Death itself falls, He is banished.
Vanille shuddered, partly from the darkness she felt from the leaf, and partly from the cold. Even the name Lindzei felt cold when written on Etro's leaf.
A moment of silence, before Vanille felt able to speak. "But we're…" she paused, "Fang and I," she spoke as quietly as possible, "We're disturbing the balance of death."
A few more seconds gradually ticked past. It seemed as if the leaf would not change; and Vanille almost pocketed it again, her hands paler, almost frozen. Until the maternal script flickered and, after several long seconds, reformed into a chilling declaration.
|I'm sorry.
Shaking, Vanille put the leaf quickly into her pouch. Maybe curiosity could do more harm than good; while it was nice to know, the very thought of Lindzei filled her with dread. All the children of Gran Pulse were filled with horror stories of the demon, He who formed the nest of vipers, who lurked the night. While most of them were probably just to control the undisciplined, such fear never could fade.
Trying her best to continue as normal, Vanille skipped forwards, grinning shakily, linking arms with Fang.
Lindzei was still on her mind. Fear. But it wouldn't leech all joy from her life.
While the redhead's thoughts descended into chaos, Kirin hopped mildly further ahead, Eidolon bestowed directly by Etro sniffing the air, thinking. It could sense much, not only from death. The borders between life and this realm were frail indeed; she could sense huge gatherings of life, real life, and buildings, constructions.
The gold mask around the feline's face shimmered somewhat as she closed her eyes. The mask could guide her, while she concentrated on scent.
To her, scent was more than just basic smell, magic bore its own scent too, echoes of power. And with the right focus, I could be picked up. Kirin had that focus. There was a common tang to each of those she travelled with now; save the Eidolons and Bartholomew. It was either the scent of l'Cie or the scent of crystal, Kirin was unsure.
The same scent was duplicated many times in the world beyond the border. The living l'Cie and once-crystals.
The target range had been narrowed down; they needed to find the Gran Pulsians' friends, those that still lived. It did not matter which one, so long as they were near a thin border. They had to speak. Fang and Vanille knew the one myth which could resurrect them: the tale of Balduin.
There was another scent, especially focused on Cid and Dajh, but present on all of them. A repulsive burst of sensation, like pepper. Similar spikes of it covered death, and yet there was a similar edge to the air itself. The smell of the Maker, of the Sylph. With a little effort, Kirin again parted the frail curtain to life, hoping the l'Cie she had to find would bear the scent of who they fought. It was only logical: had Sylph warped them? Had the Maker touched them at a confrontation?
Kirin hoped so, and was rewarded as several beings stood out. Still a dozen or so though, and no way to tell which was which.
Kirin again paused, picking out anything memorable on the two Gran Pulsians. There was an irony tint, more a faint, actual scent than a magical sense, a bit of both technically, but, ingrained deep in their skin, that industrial smell pervaded. Kirin bristled. While she did not recognize it, it was easy to identify; corruption. The scent of Cocoon. The taint of Fell Lindzei.
And yet, the smell was in the air around them, unbelievably faint, and yet still there.
Hissing, Kirin again delved beyond the thin walls of life and death. It scared her, how easy it was.
Outside of the stinking nest itself, and the two pieces of life within it, only eight bore that scent. Eight beings who had once trodden on Cocoon: all once l'Cie, all having touched Sylph.
The scent of fal'Cie resided near one of the eight. Interesting: and that one was close also. Perhaps it would do o harm to indulge a feeble curiosity while continuing the quest; just a small wonder. Why a fal'Cie?
Kirin opened her eyes, willing her golden mask to flash a sudden, bright flare. All eyes were soon on her.
The Eidolon lifted a metallic paw, gesturing towards where she sensed the fal'Cie and Cocoon-dweller. She was met with frowns. Inwardly, Kirin yowled in annoyance: she was unable to make any meaningful noise even audible to these people. How was she to talk?
The leaf, dear one.
Etro's kindly voice sounded in her head. The Eidolon paused, flicking through its memory, before running along the ground and pouncing on the pale Vanille. Fang made a sudden move, but Kirin had finished her work too soon to be hit by the sudden attack.
"Kirin!" she heard her caller, Dajh, shout, "Stop!"
Obeying, the Eidolon drooped her head, leaf in one paw, and, shamefacedly, walked over to Dajh. She lifted the leaf, willing him to understand.
"I know where to go," Dajh said after a moment's pause
"Huh? Where?" Fang demanded, stepping forwards
"I don't know," Dajh looked up, "Kirin's got some leaf. That's what it says."
"Right," Vanille squeaked, "Etro's! What's it say?"
"I can scent, can see, the once l'Cie, "Dajh read out Kirin's thoughts, "Follow me."
The party looked at the bluish Eidolon, surprised.
Satisfied they were at last understanding her, Kirin, stretched her long, lithe leg, flicked the leaf up to Dajh, before gratefully bounding along the landscape. Towards the Cocoon dweller and the fal'Cie.
X
"I don't see why we have to go to Faris," Lightning sighed, "What doe sit have to do with Fang and Vanille? We don't know anything more to tell them, and that's if they're even there."
"They will be there, I know," Shemhazai spoke in her customary whispers, easily audible, "We fal'Cie are partial to certain signals humans may miss."
"Such as?"
"The cry of a Goddess. I scarcely believe it, but I not only sensed Her, our Maker, but the Goddess Etro."
"And this means we go to Faris, why?"
"There was a sense of happiness from the Goddess of Death. All fal'Cie may have picked it up; but I was looking for something they were not. I believe the Goddess is aiding Fang and Vanille."
"And you sensed them coming from Faris."
"It is true," Shemhazai bowed her head.
"Lead on," Lightning stepped back, shrugging.
Faris was the name given to a wasteland just outside the city; it had been a village once, Lightning remembered, but fell into disuse after a plague. So much of the world had changed from one crystal slumber to the next, Lightning sighed wistfully. Faris had been a great village; not simply a dwelling place though. As it was built on the outskirts of a main city, a fair few soldiers gathered there. Needless to say, Lightning had gotten on well with them, in her few and far-between breaks, at insistence from a friend, usually Serah, often, from helping Fang and Vanille over the last five centuries.
Now it was a wasteland, rubble, wreckage and memories. Maybe it would do her good to see it again; especially if Fang and Vanille were there.
Though she didn't show it, she had a sentimental side. Even with nothing to report, inside she rejoiced at seeing her two old friends again. How long had it been since their journey to Cocoon? The day the Sylph fled. At least a week ago, probably longer.
She'd seen them a day ago, but that was as if they were simply on a screen, recorded, unreal. Even if she was only seeing them the same way again, it would be better than nothing. Who knew how much longer they could speak for?
"How much do you know of this world's history?" Shemhazai murmured after a moment
"A little. I lived through a lot of it."
"You misunderstand. The history of the world, and not its peoples."
"In that case, not much. I spent most of my time thinking about the future and how to help Fang and Vanille, not the lost past."
"It was not a criticism, merely a curiosity," Shemhazai paused, wing fluttering from within her cloak.
Lightning was glad no one was around here; there wasn't much call to use the road to Faris. The movement of wings would attract unwanted attention.
"Why?" the soldier eventually prodded, wondering
"Something I felt. The tales of the fal'Cie speak of beings made from matter and magic who existed long before anything else."
"What do they have to do with this?" Lightning rolled her eyes at the irrelevant subject matter
"We are being watched,"
"Huh?" Lightning's hand wandered down to her weapon
"By one of those creatures," Shemhazai spoke again, "I do not understand how, but they have a very distinctive presence."
"Why don't you understand how?" Lightning demanded, tense, as they continued moving
"There were few in the world when fal'Cie first arose. They departed us for life beyond, centuries ago."
"Evidently not all of them," Lightning groaned, "Any tips outside of how it's 'impossible'?"
"I recognize the type. One said to have unparalleled sense, to find people and objects by scent and echoes. It is called a Kirin."
"Kirin?" Lightning frowned, "Why does that sound familiar?"
A few silent seconds ticked past.
In the years between the Fall and the Extraction, Lightning had buried herself in the ancient culture of Gran Pulse. She arguably knew more of the world's history than any other; that is, the history of the people, myths and legends. Though only the legends written down, which tended to be the very old stories, long before the Cocoon/Pulse wars, featuring l'Cie more than anything.
The name Kirin was in one of those tales, she was sure of it. A feline, gold and blue. Something to do with a l'Cie…
"Eidolon," Lightning breathed
"Excuse me?" Shemhazai frowned, looking back
"Kirin was an Eidolon," the pink haired soldier repeated, recalling the legend, "Maybe that race did die; whatever. If they ever existed. But Kirin was an Eidolon on the ancient Pulse."
"An Eidolon is watching us then," Shemhazai amended slowly.
"And where there's an Eidolon, there's a l'Cie."
"So l'Cie are searching for us," Shemhazai's wing fluttered suddenly once more, and a flash of energy travelled down her cheek, "It can only be them."
Lightning nodded grimly. Perhaps she would in fact meet Fang and Vanille once more. The soldier smiled.
A few more minutes ticked past, and as they finally fell away, Lightning and Shemhazai were in Faris. There were no standing houses, no real dwellings, just holes and piles of rubble. Time killed everything.
Waiting, Lightning sat on one of the stones, closing her eyes. Fang and Vanille could catch up soon then, especially if they did have a Kirin somehow guiding them. Had Dajh or Cid somehow received an Eidolon? She didn't even entertain the chilling notions that there could be another l'Cie searching.
"Lightning!" Vanille's squeal brought the hooded soldier back to reality. Relieved, she lowered her hood, exposing pinkish locks to the air, and moved closer to the small bubble in which they were visible.
Fang, Vanille, Bahamut, Hecatoncheir, Cid, Dajh and Bartholomew were recognizable. A wave of mist with two bright blue eyes was behind them, and a waist-high feline sat in front. The latter matched the faded illustrations of Kirin.
"Who are the new arrivals?" Lightning asked, just to be sure
"My Eidolon," Cid was the first to speak, lifting an arm. Mist from their background flowed into it, forming an icy, serpentine face. "We call her Mist Dragon after the old fables."
"And I finally got mine!" Dajh grinned, "Kirin!"
The Eidolon hopped up, hearing her name called. So it was true.
"You wouldn't believe how I met her," Dajh chuckled
"Really?" Lightning replied, amused, "How then?"
"That's kinda why we need to talk," Vanille squeaked.
Lightning raised her eyebrows, before nodding, gesturing for them to go on. Shemhazai listened, hiding behind the rubble; almost afraid of meeting those she'd wronged long ago.
"Bartholomew met a Wanderer while serving as a gate," Fang explained the background, "We were searching for her, only thing we could think of doing. Met her at that ring of Cie'th Stones in the Steppe; turns out they're some kind of sacred spot for Etro. That's who she was: the Wanderer was Goddess Etro."
Lighting blinked.
"You know, I bet she made this bubble so we can talk," Vanille mumbled to herself.
"She wants to help," Cid spoke now, breaking the dramatic silence, "Even Gods have rules they must abide by, however, but she did give us one gift. Dajh's Eidolon, Kirin."
"And she told us about Balduin!" Vanille hopped, squeaking, interrupting Cid.
"Go on," Lightning was suddenly alert; she, Shemhazai, Snow, Serah, NORA and Sazh had been going from ghost to ghost, and yet none knew much of the myth.
"You know the basics," Fang replied, "Balduin died, but he was popular, and lots of people tried to save him. According to the Goddess, most of the rest was just poetic license, but you don't know that bit, so might as well say it."
Fang inhaled.
"The tribe and surrounding areas were all distraught at Balduin's death, and even Etro was moved by it. She appeared to them, and said if every one in the whole world shed a tear for Balduin, she could bring him back to life. Well, in good old Gran Pulsian spirit, those people set sail for the rest of the world, telling people about Balduin and their task. Everyone cried for him in the end, except for one person; Lindzei, and so Balduin stayed dead."
"But that's not how it really happened," Vanille interjected, "That's just the legend."
"What was it then?" Lightning murmured, tense, curious.
"Balduin died, that much is true," the redhead continued, "But Etro never appeared. Lots of people called for her, to help Balduin. And with enough voices, she did, for a little while. But she broke the rules, at the command of lots of people, but she still broke the rules, and the world suffered." Vanille shivered
"Nothing had any meaning for the longest day," Fang was the next to speak, "That's what they called it. The face of the world changed; reality itself was off balance. Lindzei and the Maker were free from their incarceration, if only for that one day. A person could find themselves in pain or pleasure, superlatives, for no reason at all. All until Etro reclaimed Balduin and took him beyond the Door of Souls again."
"Of course people were upset," Vanille squeaked, "But they didn't want to remember it, `cos they'd been the ones who told Etro to do it. Their folly. So they made up the myth; but we think Etro could get it to work this time, we're not properly dead."
"You're not?" Lightning said after a few seconds, thinking of Balduin
"Nah," Vanille shook her head cheerfully, "We slipped in through the Door, we're still alive, just in the wrong place. The Goddess said so."
"A geographic demise, not a physical one," Cid murmured
A moment's silence. Shemhazai watched from afar.
"You think, if enough people want it, Etro will bring you back to life?" Lightning paused, frowning. It sounded odd, but stranger things had happened.
"The added weight of the voices must do something," Fang shrugged, "It's our best shot."
The Mist Dragon at the back shifted, possibly nodding, possibly not. It was hard to tell.
"Who's the one watching us?" Bartholomew quietly whispered, just as everyone was preparing to say farewell. They stopped, looking at Hope's father.
"Over there," he pointed past Lightning, to a small pile of rubble.
Behind the rubble, a tall pile which had possibly once been a house, the edges of a cloak, and a silvery face beneath it, were visible. Hearing the words, it ducked lower, but the damage had been done. Lightning closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Shemhazai!" she shouted, "Might as well do this."
The party in death looked at each other, confused, before the cloaked figure slowly stepped out, into clear view. She moved closer, a slow, shuffling step. It might have been their imagination, but the group thought they heard a steady clip-clop of hooves.
Once she was near, the figure, now named as Shemhazai, lifted a concealed hand, and pulled her hood back. The inhuman, smooth, mechanical, metallic face was now visible, sunlight glinting off the brown and grey shades.
"That's a fal'Cie," Dajh muttered
Shemhazai nodded once, slowly, before leaning back. The cloak gracefully fell off, and as she straightened again, she seemed slightly taller. Her feathered wings extended either side of her body.
"We know you," Vanille gasped.
The fal'Cie bowed her head. "I am most sorry," her loud, whispered tone carried genuine regret.
"You know it?" Dajh spoke quickly, shocked
"I think we do," Fang was the next to speak, her tone cold
"Will you allow me to redeem myself?" Shemhazai whispered, "I wish only to help you. I knew not who you were at the time we first met."
"Who is this?" Dajh frowned
"Fal'Cie," Fang muttered, "Attacked us first time we left Oerba."
"She sounds sorry!" Vanille squeaked
"I am, truly," the fal'Cie lowered her head.
A few seconds of silence. Lightning's gaze wandered around Faris, paying little attention to the drama at hand. How could she spread the word about Fang and Vanille, as the story of Balduin suggested? One idea kept returning to her mind, but it was a thought she might not be able to go through with. It wasn't just her choice.
"Alright, why not," Fang shrugged, "Welcome to the team Shemhazai."
"The utterly doomed team," Cid added dryly, receiving an elbow from Vanille in reply.
"Good luck," the gracious, now accepted, fal'Cie whispered.