Chapter 50 - Ashes Of The Phoenix
The sun was sinking below the mountains as they escorted him to the meeting room, bathing the halls in warm shades of amber and gold. He kept his head down, giggling and muttering to himself, until the doors opened and he was thrust into a chair beside the window.
The palace guards filed into the room, keeping an eye on him while they awaited the arrival of Emperor Gestahl. It was necessary, he told himself, because these fools knew he couldn't be trusted. It wasn't for his own safety, oh no, because what did he, Kefka Palazzo, have to fear from these pathetic ignoramuses? No, this was for the Emperor, for the geriatric ruler of... of what? Oh yes, this charming kingdom of ants. Insects scurrying beneath his feet. And we all know how much fun it is to roast those pathetic little insects.
"Palazzo?"
Was someone speaking to him? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it was a fly on the windowsill, lazily buzzing in the summer heat. Some distant part of his mind told him to respond. But even this took a substantial amount of effort, his temper flaring as he forced himself to acknowledge the other person in the room.
"What?!" Kefka jerked his head up, and found himself gazing into the black, burning eyes of Emperor Gestahl. This man, with his fierce stare and elegant mane once held the dangerous majesty of a lion, lurking and brooding beneath scarlet waves of silk. But those days were over, fading with the passing storm that darkened the horizon.
"Your Majesty," said Kefka, grinning and showing his perfectly white teeth. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" He knew exactly what he was doing, giggling in amusement as he pretended not to know why the Emperor had brought him here. It was oh so delightful, toying with this overgrown walrus while Celes' life hung in the balance.
"Are you incapable of paying attention for more than five seconds at a time?" Gestahl snarled, seizing him by the front of his shirt and shaking him like a rag doll. "You better tell me what I want to know, or so help me I'll fry your carcass and feed it to the dogs!"
Lies and empty threats. Kefka knew how valuable he was, and he laughed in the Emperor's face, simply because he knew he could get away with it. This old fool didn't even realize that he was being played like a pawn in a game of chess. No, of course not. Because despite the number of guards stationed around the room, Gestahl still had faith in his mage. He trusted him to tell the truth, believing in his unwavering loyalty even when Kefka was raging out of control.
Blind faith, that's what they called it. And it was going to get him killed.
The smile fell from his lips as quickly as a flame that had been extinguished by a gust of wind. The guards closest to him stepped aside, consumed by a feeling of unease deepening steadily towards terror. They were frightened by what they saw on Kefka's face, because what they saw was nothing. No thought, no emotion, not a single thread binding him to humanity. It was this emptiness that made them quiver, his blank stare passing over each and every one of them before he spoke.
"I was bored," he said simply, baffling the Emperor with this vague response. His gaze drifted towards the window, staring at the sky as the sun sank below the horizon. "I thought it might stir up some excitement. And who am I to turn down the opportunity to terrorize the grunts in her troop? For a good cause, of course."
Gestahl released him, a look of utter confusion etched into the lines on his face. He didn't know what he was talking about, nor did he recognize the warning signs as Kefka slumped against the chair, his head down, staring at the floor.
Then, slowly, his face cleared. Kefka was becoming more aware, more alert as the flames of Ifrit pooled in his chest, the heat radiating outwards until his fingertips burned with suppressed energy.
He lifted his chin, staring at the ceiling tiles as he said in a casual tone, "She promised me the Esper in return for my help. She promised... She said, she knew I couldn't refuse her offer. Even though the Esper had been in the frozen food isle for god knows how many centuries, but that's not the point!" The last few words exploded out of him in the form of a scream, startling the guards with his sudden outburst. "The point is magic," he said, turning his head this way and that as though he were listening to some sound the others failed to notice. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? You felt it when you held that shard, that pretty little rock that holds the key to our future."
Kefka put his hands down at his sides, his fingers curling over the rim of the chair as he threw his head back and laughed. It was a truly terrible sound. Unnatural, forced yet completely unrestrained. It was then that his hands started shaking, the curious spasms returning with a vengeance, making it impossible for him to sit still.
"Celes always has to be better than me," he continued, his hands fluttering in the air as he punctuated his speech with bizarre movements and gestures. "The frozen image of perfection. The poster child for what Magitek knights are supposed to be. And I thought that if I had the Esper, if I could feel its energy pulsing through my veins, then perhaps I could do better. So excuse me if I appear to have selfish needs, because all I wanted was that damn Esper before they carried it off to the factory and stuffed it in one of those glowing fish tanks."
"And what did you plan on doing once the Esper was in your possession?" asked the Emperor.
Kefka had gone quiet again, shutting down for a full thirty seconds while the guards moved and shifted until their backs were against the wall.
"Palazzo?" Gestahl hesitated before moving forward. "Palazzo, did you hear me?"
Kefka slowly lifted his head, blue eyes finding black as he spoke a single word.
"Kill."
"What?" Gestahl stared at him.
"I was going to kill them all." He spoke slowly at first, almost groggily, his face slack as he stared at the Emperor. Then all at once he came alive, and he tittered. "I was going to tear down the walls, burn every last building, and flood that miserable little dump when I melted the snow on the mountain. Of course we had to make it look believable. But then she slipped, getting caught up in her lies when they suspected her of turning against the empire. And pardon me if I wasn't the least bit upset when I discovered that Celes was going to be executed. More work for me, though. I'd have to snatch the Esper on my own and I - "
"Enough!" Gestahl shouted. He'd grown tired of watching this man perform, leaping and flailing like a fish out of water. "That's enough! I've heard everything I need to hear," he said, giving Kefka one last look of contempt before turning and heading for the door. "I will make my decision regarding the fate of Miss Chere in the morning. Until then she is to remain in custody with no further visitations from any of her regular contacts." The door closed behind him, and Kefka was left staring at the wall in silence.
After a while he began to move, his arms around his waist as he rocked back and forth. It was going to be a very long night, with that single piece of magicite calling to him, every minute of every hour, until all he could think about was that single point of light shining in darkness.
The Espers were real, the magicite was real. Terra was not. She was shadow, this was light. This was reality. She had forsaken her god, leaving him to wander the endless corridors of his mind, alone, unwanted, a fallen angel with no one left to hear him scream. And if Terra was shadow then Celes was the moon, her face sometimes hidden, sometimes visible, but always right there lurking over his shoulder.
He could have spread his wings and torn the moon from the skies, casting it aside like a fallen star. But instead he chose to let her live, if only for a moment, so that he could have the pleasure of stealing the treasure from her hands, then use its jagged edge to slit her throat.
Those precious gems, each one housing the spirit of a fallen Esper. He'd seen her face reflected in the prism, a thousand times he heard her scream and knew that he would need her during the final leg of his journey. He never meant to acknowledge the rumors, or to help them spread like the fires racing through his blood. He would have laughed in Cid's face if it weren't for the moment when he gazed upon the remains of Siren and saw Celes lying at his feet, fallen before the God of Magic, with the statues of the Warring Triad crumbling to dust in his hands.
He cackled, then moaned, then screamed. The wind screamed with him, howling as he sunk his nails into his arms, and felt the stirring of something sinister beneath his skin. He could feel the skin stretching over his wings, the hollow bones lengthening as he shuddered and gasped. It was a reaction, albeit a delayed reaction, to the magicite he'd swiped from the Emperor's hands. It told him he was getting close, and that it wouldn't be long until he could take the moon, the sun and all the stars that lit the sky and burn them with the final light of judgment.
.oOo.
The last dying breath of summer was blowing across the darkened skies, caressing the side of his face as Setzer steered the airship towards the mountainous region of Narshe. He took his hand off the wheel, just for a moment, and brushed the silvery strands of hair out of his face. It would be some time before the earth began to cool, but for now he was enjoying the warm winds playfully tugging on the fabric of his clothes.
He stayed at the wheel long after sunset, listening to the gentle stirrings of conversation as Edgar joined his friend on the deck of the Blackjack. Though he didn't mean to listen in on what was being said, he found his attention drawn towards them when Locke mentioned that lovely lady he'd mistaken for his darling Maria.
It began earlier that evening when the three friends sat down to dinner. Edgar and Locke suspected that Terra had seen the letters as they were leaving Zozo, with Kefka's untidy scrawl lacing the front of the envelope. It wasn't until Locke questioned her during dinner that she confessed to seeing them. And although she had little to say regarding the origin of the letters, her behavior seemed to indicate that she remembered each and every one of them, including the ones they hadn't brought back during their trip to Vector.
Terra lifted her head, looking at them before asking if she could have the letters. She wanted them back, but more than anything else she wanted him back. She wanted to step out on the deck, the skies awash in shades of grey, and see that teenaged boy standing in the rain.
Locke had a spoonful of corn halfway to his mouth when Terra voiced her question. He lowered the spoon onto his plate, glancing sideways at Edgar who was giving him an anxious look from across the table. They didn't feel that she should see them right away, not after everything she'd been through during the past few weeks. But the letters were hers, and she had a right to see them whether they thought she should or not.
"Ah, one minute," said Locke, digging through his pockets as a multitude of objects spilled onto the floor.
Edgar leaned sideways in his seat, looking down at the collection of treasure that accumulated on the floor. There was a dull thump as one of the figurines hit the rug, followed by a shower of gold coins and a few scraps of paper.
Locke paused, his eyes traveling upwards as he glanced at the King. He was unashamed of the fact that he had stolen every last item that came tumbling out onto the floor, and after a moment he continued searching for the letters he'd taken from Kefka's room.
"Here they are," he said, leaning forward and scooping up the pile of assorted treasures. "That's all I could find on such short notice. Celes had a letter in her possession when she..." He hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing. "When she was taken by the empire. There were others in a shoebox on the bed, but we were in a hurry and I couldn't get them all."
"You mean you didn't have room for everything," said Edgar, and Locke managed a small smile, chuckling at his friend's comment.
Terra leaned forward in her seat, reaching for the letters and pictures as he placed them on the table. "Thank you," she murmured, followed shortly by, "May I be excused?"
Edgar shifted in his seat, looking rather uncomfortable. "Yes." He nodded once, signaling that it was alright for her to leave. "Yes, you may, Terra."
Another muttered thanks, and she clutched the items against her chest with one hand, her other hand on the table as she pushed her chair out, stood up and quickly left the room.
There was a pause, the silence broken by the sound of Locke's chair scraping against the floorboards. His footsteps moved across the floor, not bothering to look back at his friend before turning and heading towards the stairs.
Locke reached the deck in record time, keeping his head down and nodding briefly when Setzer bid him good evening. The air felt cooler now that the heat of the day had faded with the setting sun, and he stopped beside the railing, letting the stillness of the night soothe his weary mind.
He knew that Edgar was right, that he was only doing this because he felt consumed by guilt and was trying, unsuccessfully, to ease the burden he'd felt since Rachel's passing.
"Maybe I'm just as crazy as the rest of them," he muttered, feeling somewhat amused at the thought. He hung his head, laughing at the absurdity of it all. The world had gone mad, and he had lost his marbles along with everyone else in Vector. Though by now he shouldn't be surprised. He tried everything to keep Rachel's body intact. And if preserving your girlfriend's body with potions and herbs wasn't enough to buy someone a ticket to the loony bin, then he didn't know what was.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and slowly his gaze drifted towards the staircase, watching as a cloaked figure climbed the steps.
It was Edgar, his blond hair turning a dull shade of platinum as he stepped into the moonlight. "Pleasant evening, isn't it, Locke?" he said, nodding in the direction of the moonlit fields.
"Yeah." A thin smile graced the corners of his lips, and Locke raised a hand, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, it is. Be even better if this damn heat would pass."
Boards creaked as the King leaned against the railing, looking out over the cloudless skies that stretched endlessly towards the horizon. "There's something I would like to discuss," he said, and the smile that had formed on Locke's face faded in an instant. "Now, forgive me if this seems a bit insensitive, and you can tell me to mind my own business if you don't feel that now is the time or place to discuss this. But I've seen the way you behave while in her presence, the way you nearly got yourself killed when those Espers sacrificed themselves." He looked over at his companion, who had his head down with strands of hair falling across his face. "You know, there are people in this world who care about you. People who don't want to see you throw your life away because of something that was beyond your control."
"What're you saying?" He didn't mean to sound so angry, his harsh tone doing little to conceal the hurt and confusion he felt since leaving Vector. "Are you saying I shouldn't have protected Celes? Have you lost faith in her already? After this one time - "
"No, that's not what I'm saying." Edgar held up a hand to silence him, his voice calm as he continued speak. "This isn't about her. It's about how you've been behaving since the accident, and how you nearly get yourself killed every time a woman is in need of assistance."
"Don't talk to me about that! You keep telling me that I should move on, and that she wouldn't want me out there risking my life over something that happened three years ago. But you didn't know her. You don't know what she would've wanted. Hell, she didn't even know what she wanted until five minutes before she died."
'That's a lie,' a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. 'You know she loved you, and that she wouldn't have wanted you clinging to memories of the past.'
'I don't know that for sure,' he countered. 'I don't know anything until I hear her voice, one last time.'
Locke glanced at Setzer, taking a step back before turning his attention to Edgar. He was suddenly overtaken by rage, his fists shaking at his sides as he recalled the moment when he was driven out of Kohlingen by the people who used to be his friends.
"I'm sorry," said Locke, frowning and shaking his head. "I can't do this right now. I need to be alone." He moved towards the stairs, turning and taking one last look at Edgar before going below deck. It wasn't until he reached the door at the end of the hallway that his frustration boiled over, and he struck the wall with the palm of his hand.
'Another damsel in distress,' said the little voice inside his head. 'You can't protect her anymore than you could Rachel.'
"No," Locke muttered, his breath coming quickly as his heart beat a fierce tempo against his ribs. "No!" He slammed his fists against the wall, head bowed, chest heaving as he fought against the swell of emotion that crashed into him like a tidal wave. "Celes is not not some damsel in distress. She fought Kefka and lived to tell about. I barely made it three feet across the snow before he had my ass in a sling." He swallowed hard. "I swore to protect her, but she doesn't need me. I can't do it anyway... I can't..." He inhaled sharply, a half strangled sob falling from his lips. "I can't protect her," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Locke?"
The door on his left opened.
"Locke, are you okay?"
He sighed heavily, leaning forward until his forehead was touching the wall. "It's fine, Terra," he muttered, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact. "I just needed to blow off some steam."
She looked at him the same way she looked at Kefka, with wide, frightened eyes, wondering what was wrong and if there was anything she could do to help. When he saw the expression on her face, those green eyes brimming with tears as she held one hand against her chest, he lowered his hands and moved away from the wall, not noticing the dent he'd made when his fists made contact with the paneling.
"I'm sorry, Terra. I didn't mean to worry you. It's just that I've got a lot on my mind, and I know you don't need more crap dumped on top of everything you've been through."
"It's alright," she said, her fingers closing around the lump of magicite in her pocket. Her father's magicite had become something of a keepsake, a precious object that helped comfort her when was feeling down. She ran her thumb over the cracks and grooves in its surface, then lifted her head so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "I don't mind the interruption. It's just that I don't like it when people are hurting and they won't let anyone get close enough to help. I've seen it before, you know." She paused. "With him."
"Right." Locke nodded, then glanced sideways through the open door. He could see the envelopes, letters and photographs scattered across the bed, a depression near the foot of the bed where she'd been sitting before his outburst lured her out into the hall. "You're still looking at those things?" he asked, eager to find something that would steer the conversation away from Rachel and Celes.
Terra opened her mouth to speak, but was unable to find the words she wanted to say. She stood there blinking and staring at the wall, a faraway look in her eyes as though she were seeing something that wasn't there.
Locke raised his eyebrows, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern. "Terra?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Are you with me, Terra?"
She started when she heard him say her name. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry." Her gaze drifted to the side. "I was just thinking."
"Yeah. So was I. It looks like we've been thinking about things too much, if you ask me." Locke put his hands into his pockets, his frustration fading the moment her saw that look in her eyes, and realized that she was just as lost as he was. He moved past her into the bedroom, stopping beside the bed and looking at the collection of objects strewn across the comforter. "Damn, I knew that guy was one chocobo short of a flock, but this is ridiculous."
Terra turned around and saw him examining one of the letters. The parchment, thick as it was, had been torn in several places under the fury of the hand which had driven the pen. Slashed into the bottom of the letter were the words "fuck you this world is going to burn" written in capital letters.
"Give it here!" she exclaimed, snatching the letter out of his hand. She placed it on the bed next to the others, taking a moment to smooth the sheet of parchment even though he had done nothing to damage its already worn surface.
And then she stopped, her eyes moving from one faded letter to the next. She could still see him, his hair plastered to the sides of his face as Gestahl's laughter mingled with the sound of crashing thunder. He slowly lifted his head, watching helplessly as the Emperor ordered them to take her to the palace. Lightning swept across the heavens, and suddenly he was laughing, screaming as the world turned to dust.
Terra watched him disappear into the clouds, her tears glistening like dewdrops against the burning skies. She had difficulty believing that this was the same person who had held and comforted when she was a child. That person was far away, lost amid the endless sands of time, and it pained her to think that she might never see him again. But more than anything else she felt confused. Why did it hurt so much to see him like this, his thoughts spiraling out of control with each letter that he wrote. Was it possible that she still cared about him?
The floorboards creaked, and Terra looked up to see Locke standing beside her.
"You alright?" he asked, adjusting his ragged bandana as strands of hair fell into his face.
She wanted to say yes. She wanted to lie like he did. Because lying was easier than admitting that she might have feelings for Kefka.
"I don't know." Her voice cracked, and Locke placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It feels like something that used to be okay, or something that will be okay in a little while. But right now I don't know. I don't understand any of this." Another pause, longer this time. "Has there ever been someone special in your life?" she asked softly. "Someone you cared about so much you couldn't let them go?"
"Yes," he said. For a moment he lingered on the edge of saying something more - of saying, "There was someone, Terra. A woman, not just any woman but the most beautiful, loving person I'd ever met. She was always laughing and smiling, her hair tied back and blowing in the wind. We had a good life. And then one day I ruined everything."
"And did you love her?"
"Yes," he said again, his throat constricting with emotion. "I still do. Which is why I'm trying to find the Phoenix Stone so I can call her spirit back from the great beyond."
"The Phoenix Stone?" Terra looked over her shoulder at him, her eyebrows vanishing beneath the emerald strands that framed her face. "What is that?"
"It's a legendary treasure. The most precious one of all. If I had the Phoenix Stone, I could heal her injuries and bring her back to life. But its been lost since the War of the Magi, which was said to have taken place a thousand years ago, and I have no idea where it is. I just keep searching, hoping one day I'll find it so I can hear her voice again."
