"I feel there's a sadness in you." The voice said, "Do you regret returning here with such a purpose?"
Marche stayed quiet and hopped over some rubble to the road again. His bruises were slowing him down, with every movement ringing painful bells.
"Maybe it isn't regret at all, but rather sadness at the realization that there is no answer here."
"The answer is here." Marche muttered, "It has to be. I'll find it and return Ivalice to my friends and make things better."
"What about you? You'll be stuck here with them, lost away from your home."
Wind blew through Marche's hair. He stopped walking and let it pass over him. "Who are you, Mr. Mystery Voice?" He asked.
"I am simply an observer."
Marche rolled his eyes, "Don't be weird. Tell me your name, at least."
"Hmm…my name is Ajora."
"Ajora?" Marche wrinkled his nose, "That's a weird name."
"A name is a name to me." The voice said, flatly, "Its only purpose is identification."
Marche crooked a tiny grin, "Nice to meet you then, Mr. Ajora."
"Likewise, I suppose."
Marche took a deep breath and started walking again, swallowing hard at the aches from his side.
# # #
Ritz woke up to wind through her hair. She opened her eyes to see red fluttering across her face and she sat up quickly to run a glove through her hair. She pulled the length of it over her shoulder, a pleasant cherry-red. Her gloves caught her attention next and drew her to look at the maroon chest plate and long, pink dress that chased her knees. Her boots rode high and were tipped with metal.
"You look good, Ritz."
She turned to see Mewt, sitting against a stone wall across from her. His hair and demeanor was unchanged, but he was dressed in a yellow shirt flourished with red embroidery. His pants were a smooth red that led to tall boots.
"So do you…?" She said, biting her lip.
Mewt laughed, "These were my clothes, unfortunately. "
"Maybe we should start looking for answers."
Doned stood before them, hands on his hips. He was in a blue coat, red trimming the collar. His boots were plain leather, his pants a soft-looking green. Ritz laughed.
"How's it feel?" She asked.
"It's nice." Doned said.
They were in what looked like ruins, some kind of old castle or stone village, rubble strewn over grass and dirt, with the occasional stone wall. Doned opened his mouth, but before he could speak he was interrupted by a disembodied voice.
"What a busy day."
The voice came from everywhere all at once and was airy, thin, as though it was whispering without knowing it.
"What?" Ritz asked, jerking her head around.
The voice continued, "Well, hurry on. I think I may be of some help to you."
A section of wall behind Mewt crumbled, dusting the air. Mewt spun, taking a cautious step backwards. He looked through the dust as it thinned and saw a stone walkway then went on for what looked like forever. He bit his lip and turned to look at Ritz and Doned, both of whom shrugged.
"Making it obvious." Doned said to the voice, "Let's go."
"I guess even god's on our side." Mewt said as he passed by Ritz. She rolled her eyes and started down the road.
# # #
Marche looked up at his newest obstacle: an old broken wall stretching up roughly twenty feet. It collapsed enough so he could scale it, but was tall enough to be a pain in his side, literally. He puffed in frustration and took hold of the first loose brick he saw. He was about to pull himself up when a crash blew in from behind him. He turned to see another haunted Judge, appearing only a few feet away. Its smoke blew harder than before, trailing up from the cracks in curvy spirals. It raised its axe high and kept its iron, expressionless face pointed to Marche.
The weapon came down and Marche moved just in time to skim the attack. The blade collided with the wall and both shook violently, with dust blowing across the ground as the stones dismantled. Marche skirted around the judge and with the chance, drew his sword. The Judge turned and Marche leapt at the opening, driving the blade into the bend at its hip. The Judge fell to a knee and Marche clambered up the sloping back to deliver the finishing blow to the base of its neck.
The armor went limp and collapsed, smoke vanishing. Marche hit the ground harder than he would have liked and it took him an unfortunate amount of time to return to his feet. As he turned to resume his path, more now-familiar crashes sounded behind him. He turned around and saw three Judges, about ten feet away, encroaching.
"I won't let you stop me." He muttered, unsure if he could keep his word.
# # #
The road stopped at a tall stone wall that went on forever in both directions. Ritz turned to look at Mewt and Doned behind her. She shrugged at them and they returned the gesture.
"Now what?" Doned asked, looking at the wall that stretched endlessly in both directions.
"I don't know." Ritz said.
"Good, you've made it." The voice returned, this time clearer, deeper. A rift appeared in the air nearby Ritz, vague distortions surrounding pitch black. She gasped and backed off, putting her hand on her sword.
"Now, now." The voice said, "I'm not here to fight."
An elderly man, dressed in a full, white cloak emerged. He had silver hair and wrinkled skin, both of which brought out his ice-grey eyes that were shining like diamonds.
"Ritz Malbeur." He said, smiling at her, "Welcome back."
# # #
Marche dove and scrambled across the ground to avoid the axes. He clambered to his feet with his sword ready. His wounds ached mortally. Teeth grit, he rushed the Judges, nimbly weaving to avoid attacks of axe, fist and leg. He bounded off the iron chest of the closest Judge, propelling himself and his sword into the throat of the Judge parallel. It went still and fell apart. Marche landed neatly on his feet then to his knees and a roll, putting distance between him and foe. His body screamed in bitter pain. He could feel his lower ribs rubbing.
"I can't stop." He hissed.
The left of the two remaining judges began to run, coming at Marche while his partner backed off. The speed was unexpected. Marche pulled a juke around the long swing that the momentum afforded the axe, avoiding the polished blade by a breath across the steel. He pulled forward and attacked the knee, striking at the joint. The Judge, learnt from his colleague's defeat, shifted his weight and Marche's sword banged harmlessly off the armor.
The Judge wasted no time and dropped his axe, flipping it mid-swing. Marche's reflexes lit up and by sheer hunger for survival did his body move in time. It wasn't far enough to avoid injury, however. The axe sheared through the shoulder of March's armor and as he spun away, cut deep into flesh. The axe impacted the ground. Marche, lost of breath, came to his feet and climbed the pole of the thing, readying his sword as he jumped for the neck.
The Judge recovered too quickly, attacking Marche in midair with the fist of its off-hand. The attack sank deep, cracking plates and mail. The pain roared and carried him as he flew. He slammed back into the wall and fell forward onto his face, tasting blood. He saw Doned in his whirlwind thoughts. He saw Ritz and Shara.
Moving slowly, he got back to his feet.
# # #
"Who are you?" Mewt asked, body tense, at the ready.
The man looked from Ritz over to Mewt, "Mewt Randell. Hello."
"Who are you?" He asked again, not hiding rising anger, "What's your name?"
"Ajora." The man said, "That's the second time I've been asked that today."
"Who asked you first?" Doned spoke up. Ajora turned to him, concerned.
"Doned Radiuju." He said, "Your brother is here."
"What do you mean?" Doned asked, tightening his expression.
"Take a look." Ajora turned to the wall. With a wave of his hand, a split appeared in the bricks. The wall rippled, like water, and vanished. On the other side was Marche. He was in his blue armor familiar to all. Standing before him was a tremendous Judge, taller than any the three had seen before. Behind it stood another, standing stoic as the former did all the work.
"Marche!" Doned ran to his brother. He ran almost comically into an invisible wall. It knocked the wind out of him and put him to the ground.
"What the…" Ritz lay a hand on the surface of the wall. Mewt helped Doned to his feet.
Ajora spoke, "Your brother came here with the intent of finding something. He is determined to do it alone."
"What do you mean?" Ritz asked.
Ajora turned from Marche to look at Ritz. For a moment, he looked terribly tired.
"This world, dear one, this Ivalice, is a world built with the wills of its users. You came here with the intent of finding Marche and this is what the world gave you. Even your appearance is what you wished, nay, what you remember."
"Whatever." Doned coughed, "How can we help Marche?"
"All he wants is to atone. He's put a burden on his shoulders and they weigh him and him alone. Unless he deems it, you can't get to him."
Doned slammed a fist into the invisible wall, yelling.
"Damn you, Marche!" He screamed, "We just want to help!"
The Judge before Marche wrenched the axe from the ground and raised it. The axe came down, but the Judge stopped it inches before impact. He twisted it in his hands and slashed sideways. Marche dropped to his knees to avoid it and came up with a smooth, easy swing, catching the elbow joint of the Judge and taking the arm off.
"Why are they attacking him?" Mewt asked.
"Marche is looking for an answer." Ajora said, "The world must have given him one."
"Answer? To what?"
Ajora frowned, "He is confident that he destroyed your paradise. He bears the blame for it."
Ritz looked at Mewt, who had the same look of awful understanding that she did. Doned's hands shook.
"Stupid Marche." He spat.
# # #
The armless Judge was moving faster than ever now, swinging his axe with speed that Marche could just barely keep up with. The weapon zipped through the air again and again, each time getting closer to the target. Marche moved as fast as he could. He leapt at the wall and pushed off, aiming for the other arm. The axe came up from the ground while he was in the air, and Marche reacted with his sword and clashed with the axe. The blow took his sword from his hand and spun it to stick neatly into the ground. Marche soon followed and rolled twice. He didn't recover gracefully and had to pause to collect himself.
He turned and ran to get his weapon. The Judge came at him and Marche dove. He was too slow. The axe head slashed down from his shoulder to tailbone. He cried out and staggered on. The warmth of blood flooded the space between his skin and armor. He got to the wall and pulled the weapon free, turning in time to duck the axe, which stuck into the stone. The Judge let go of the thing and threw a fist, catching Marche on the left cheek, putting him to the ground and shattering his jaw.
# # #
Doned sobbed, striking the wall fruitlessly in frustration.
"If he dies here…" Ajora said, "He will die everywhere."
"Why?" Ritz asked, her voice wobbled.
Ajora closed his eyes, "The Gran Grimoire ties itself to the user's soul and mind. Die here, and it will crush both. You don't live through that."
"What's the Gran Grimoire?" Ritz asked.
"You don't know?" Ajora asked, puzzled.
Ritz shook her head.
"It's the book." Mewt said, "It has to be."
Ajora nodded, "The Gran Grimoire is a gateway that was made by the old inhabitants of real Ivalice…your St. Ivalice. Back when I was a living, breathing person, many copies of these books were made to try and hold that time forever by creating an Ivalice that could shift to its user's whim."
"Nothing but a feeble attempt to be remembered." Ritz said.
Ajora shrugged, "I suppose that's what everything humans do is."
The Judge loomed over Marche. The axe floated as it stuck in the wall. Marche's sword laid next to him. Doned screamed again, yelling in anguish as he kept pounding the wall. Tears ran down his cheeks, his skin red with anger.
"We have to help him!" Ritz said, punching the air.
"Marche!" She yelled his name as loud as she could, "Marche! We came to help you! Marche!"
# # #
Marche began to apologize.
Through everything he suffered, he began to say he was sorry. He started with his mother and remembered the light of the sign. He apologized to his father, to his distant family. He said sorry to Ritz and Mewt and to their families. He tried to move his arms, but they no longer worked. His legs refused to move. The Judge stood over him, tall and cast shadow. Marche apologized to all of his Ivalice, both here and the saint. He felt tears. He hurt so much. He shut his eyes.
He heard a voice. It was soft and small, but he heard it. It was his brother. It was Doned. In his mind he saw a flash of Ritz and her white hair. He saw Mewt with his hands in his pockets, smiling coyly.
He saw his brother in his wheelchair, shaking his head playfully. He couldn't help but laugh as he realized then that perhaps, in the end, it was regret. He heard his brother's voice again. It was crying, deep and loud. Marche mustered his strength to turn and look. There he saw, through the wall, his brother. He was crying, pounding on whatever it was keeping them apart. Marche wanted to cry for him, to do anything to make it stop. He couldn't move, couldn't fight. All he could do was shut his eyes. He heard the Judge make his move. Before he passed, in the seconds before the darkness took to sleep, he felt warmth over his hand and the sounds of steel unsheathed.
# # #
The wall disappeared as Marche shut his eyes. Doned's swings went right through. Ritz was the first to move, drawing her sword as second nature. The Judge had taken its axe again and raised it in an executioner's stance. Ritz moved like a Viera, like all those years with Shara climbing trees and navigating mountains. Moving through air like nothing could stop her. She ascended the Judge like it was a mossy cliff face and spun around its head, furiously driving her blade through its neck. It paused, shook and collapsed. Ritz was off the armor before it hit the ground, moving to kill the other. A fireball seared the air over her. It trailed and connected with the remaining Judge, knocking it flat onto its back. Taking the chance, Ritz clambered over it and killed it before it could even start to recover.
As she came back to the group, she sheathed her sword. She looked at Mewt, who gave her a casual shrug as he lowered his hand, the residuals of the spell dissipating into the air.
Marche was a bloody mess. Doned was over him, cradling his brother in his arms and crying his name. Blood smeared his clothes. Ritz gave Mewt an uh oh glance before approaching.
"Marche! Wake up and talk to me! Wake up and tell me what's wrong!" Doned sobbed.
"How bad is it?" Ritz asked, not sure who to expect an answer from.
Ajora responded, "He has little time."
"No…" Mewt said, voice shaken, "If he dies here, he's gone everywhere, right?"
Ajora nodded, "That's the sad truth."
"Doned." Marche's voice was just below a whisper. Everyone leaned in close to hear his next two words.
"I'm sorry."
Doned broke, screaming inconsolable wails of sorrow.
"There has to be something we can do…" Mewt said. He turned to Ajora, "Can you heal him?"
"No."
Ritz stomped her foot, "Who are you, old man? You show up and act like we're all old friends of yours and prattle on about the old Ivalice…who are you?"
Ajora sighed and turned to look out across the debris.
"I am the arbiter here. Ajora of Gran Grimoire Virgo."
"Virgo? The zodiac sign?" Mewt said.
"Ten thousand years ago, your Ivalice was much like this Ivalice: swords, magic, gods. But there was war, a great many of them. During one of the last and longest, the patriarchs of the world decided that Ivalice, as they knew it, wouldn't exist much longer. So they used ancient relics of magic to create twelve books, twelve Gran Grimoire, to encase the nature of Ivalice in them. Whoever reads the words on the books would be drawn inside, to a world like Ivalice, but shaped to the user…"
Ajora waved his hand out, showcasing the landscape.
"When you came here before, each of you had a dream while reading those words, a dream the book delivered."
"You still haven't said who you are." Ritz said.
"Back in Old Ivalice…" Ajora smiled a little, but it fell quickly "I was a noble who took the name of a defunct savior, that's all. My spirit was encased inside this Grimoire to keep watch." He shook his head, "But enough is enough. No more talking of the past. I might have a way to help Marche."
Ritz clenched her fists, "How?"
"I can join you with the world temporarily. You'd be able to speak directly to Marche's will—his spirit. If you can get him to accept whatever he's fighting, you can all return to your world, healthy as ever."
"I get it." said Mewt, "Once he accepts that he didn't hurt us, then we can take him home-"
Ajora nodded, "But…"
"But what?"
Ajora sighed, turning, "Doing that will cause the extinction of both this Grimoire and…me. I will perish during the process."
"You'd be willing to sacrifice that much for Marche?" Mewt asked.
"I've been here for ten millennia. Trapped in a world that has always been shaped by others." He smiled, "It will feel good to finally make a decision of my own accord."
"So all we have to do is knock some sense into Marche?" Ritz asked.
"Yes."
Mewt punched his palm, "Then let's go!".
"Once I meld you and the world, you will only have until his body here dies. Going by his condition he doesn't have long left. Are you still will-"
"Don't ask us if we have doubts." Doned shouted, "It's Marche, our friend…my brother! If we don't succeed, then we might as well die."
"I agree," said Ritz.
"Me too." Said Mewt.
"Good." Ajora said and lifted his hands, "God speed, then."
The sky started to glow, brighter and brighter. Mewt turned to look at Ajora and the last he saw before the light took them was the old man smiling.