With the threat of Edge's resistance looming on the horizon, Cecil threw himself and Baron into war preparations and ordered the return of both Edward from Damcyan and Porom from Mysidia to consolidate his power. He needed Baron to be ready for whatever Edge and Cid had planned. He sent forward scouts to Eblan to report back on their movements and to take up position, along with conscription orders to Mysidia, Fabul, and Troia. Damcyan didn't have any soldiers to speak of, still relying on Baron's military presence, but they publicly voiced their ongoing support of Baron and its stalwart defense of their alliance.
The Red Wings patrolled the skies of the world, following circuitous paths through kingdoms and countries, surveilling the populations' movements and if any large groups traveled by air or sea. None had, excepting Fabul and Troia, who prepared to cross the waters to assist Baron. Mysidia would stay, to arrive through the Devil's Road when Edge's troops were sighted.
Below ground was harder to monitor. There was only one airship outfitted with a mythril belly and able to withstand the lava's heat: the Falcon. Edge, however, had taken possession of her and disappeared. Cecil could only assume Edge was hiding it in the Underworld, as no one had reported sighting it in the skies. And while Cecil had access to plenty of mythril, Baron's engineers had no blueprints to follow for the undercoating and couldn't come with an original design no matter how hard Cecil pushed them. Only Cid and the dwarven engineers knew, and King Giott had stopped replying to Cecil's communications.
Back in Baron, Rydia spent time with the black mages forces, guiding them through new techniques to improve their spellcasting. Some were Baron mages, but most were Mysidian, some of their troops having crossed the Devil's Road already.
Edward and Porom worked together to fuse together spell and song, creating new spells to bolster and strengthen their soldiers. These were taught to all civilians with any musical inclination. After taking care of Edge and his so-called resistance, Cecil would have to consider formalizing bard troops.
Oddly, Edward seemed to be avoiding him, always busy with one diplomat or another. When Cecil asked how things were going in Damcyan upon Edward's return, the prince's eyes had gone distant, and he gave mumbled, one-word answers to Cecil's inquiries. Cecil found the distance troubling but could not get the sense of Edward's discomfort.
Rosa continued her resurrection duties to build Cecil's undead army, but was always monitored closely, flanked by a white mage and black mage, and often by Cecil himself. They were under strict orders to employ their magic if Rosa ever used her powers against them or any other Baron citizen or attempted any other violence with her risen minions. There'd been no incidents so far, but Cecil was keeping a close hold on Rosa and her mind, keeping her thoughts contained and ordered. This was admittedly hard, and Cecil felt a constant strain and pull on his thoughts, always tempting him into distraction. He was grateful for the loyalty of his people and found he did not have to lean much on others' minds now; they all had their ultimate goals and worked toward them together.
He had Rosa's room searched but found no other letters or evidence of espionage. He had his suspicions though, and when he sent soldiers to escort Joanna Farrell to the castle for questioning, they were proven correct when she couldn't be found. The guards searched the town, questioned friends and neighbors but found no clues. A thorough search of the home was similarly fruitless, but Cecil could only assume Joanna covered her tracks well. He didn't know if she had been working alone or with others and found no indication either way. He hoped, however, that she had been a rogue agent, unhappy about her daughter's fate and acting out by contacting Edge. The other citizens of Baron seemed happy enough, and there was no widespread discontent.
Cecil wondered if Joanna had gone through the Devil's Road, but had guards posted there at all hours, and none reported sighting her. He could only assume, like her daughter before, Joanna had gone across the desert to Kaipo. Bitterly, he hoped she had similar luck as Rosa; there would be no more Sand Pearls, cracked or otherwise, to cure fevers and Joanna would burn alive, wishing she had never dared betray Cecil and try to lure Rosa away. Rosa protested that her mother had not given her Edge's letter, but Cecil did not need to press into her mind to know she lied.
And so, the weeks went, the world in a tense silence before an oncoming storm. Cecil waited for reinforcements to arrive by sea, for the Red Wings to spot Edge's movements and for any sign that he was still on the right path to protecting the world.
Rydia, for her part, hid nothing from Cecil. Her disdain for him was never privately tucked away, always present in the forefront of her thoughts. But still she stayed and lent her power to the mission, never protesting and never complaining. She did keep her distance from him, however, both physically and mentally, never letting him within her personal space or beyond the surface of her mind's thoughts. She gave him no reason to push or nudge her mind, always cooperative despite her barely contained resentment.
She believed in the cause, Cecil reasoned, despite all the wrong he had done to her, all he had put her through. As the Fire Arch Fiend, Rydia had a rare opportunity to do more, to be more, to continue trying to make the world a better, safer place, so that no child ever woke in terror to flames all around them.
She watched Cecil across the training yard, her eyes following him even as she spoke to the young black mage beside her. Another cluster of black mages stood together nearby, exchanging words. At the end of the training yard, beyond the fence, stood a guard. Cecil recognized him as undead by his stooped posture and empty mind. The guard watched the proceedings with a detached interest.
As Cecil approached, Rydia said something inaudible to the mage, who stepped away at Cecil's approach.
"Yes?" she asked, getting straight to the point as always.
Cecil indicated the gathered black mages with a nod, who now all had their heads bowed in concentration, slowly going through elaborate patterns with their hands, shaping arcane threads together. "How goes?"
Rydia shrugged. "A few standouts," she said, turning her attention back to the mages. "At the very least, they all understand the basics. A few are proving proficient in the Fire spell especially." As she spoke, one of the gathered mages managed a small sputtering fire, which crackled greedily for fuel, for something to grab a hold of, but found nothing in the sandy pit.
Cecil watched as the fire died out, and the black mage took to casting again. "Take those few," he said, turning back to Rydia. "Work with them closely and have them with you as a unit when Edge attacks."
He doesn't know a thing, does he? the tiny thought drifted through the air, small and scandalized, then was gone like a bubble popping. Before Cecil could even chase after the thought, to wonder where it came from, Rydia spoke again, but her words were oddly rushed. "Edge never saw the Crystals in action. He has no idea the power you wield here." She paused; her mouth pinched in a tight line. "He doesn't know a thing about what he's facing," she finished, echoing the distant thought from earlier. Her eyes watched Cecil, careful and assessing, waiting for his response.
Dig deeper, Zeromus suggested, sniffing after Rydia's thoughts, sensing a subterfuge. The darkness edged in around the shape of her mind with questing fingertips, curious for a peek into Rydia's deepest parts. What could she be hiding when she let so much be revealed?
A coincidence, Cecil suggested instead, pulling back the darkness, his heart too sick to peer into Rydia's mind and see all her hatred of him. She had never lied or tried to hide it, wearing it honestly on all the thoughts of Cecil that drifted through. She hated him and what he had made of her, both in life and in death, her dreams haunted by the outraged cry of Bahamut as Cecil's corrupting darkness seized the Dragon God. The overwhelming guilt was enough to keep Cecil's curiosity at bay.
Zeromus said nothing, only retreated into Cecil's mind, subdued for now.
"Will you be ready for Edge?" Cecil asked, and before Rydia could reply, a loud whoosh sounded nearby. Both looked over in time to see a large fireball sailing through the air, landing in a fiery crash on a fence post. The black mage who cast it stared at their hands, in mute disbelief of what they had just conjured.
The zombie guard standing by the now burning fence shrieked with fear and stumbled away from the wild flames. He didn't stop, scrambling further away, until a safe distance was between him and the fire. Another black mage ran to grab a bucket of water, a line of which had been prepared for this very reason, then doused the flames.
Cecil looked back to Rydia, who wore a small smirk. "We'll be ready," she said, unable to keep pride out.
Edge had faced the former Fire Arch Fiend and found himself lacking. He would not survive an encounter with the next Fiend, Cecil thought, returning her smile.
Porom, in her second life as an Arch Fiend, was the most reserved and quiet of the four. Cecil wasn't sure if that was due to her personality prior to the change, or if her newfound well of power and knowledge made her more thoughtful and contemplative. She said so much without speaking a word, in the way she watched the world around her, brown eyes full of curiosity. So, when Porom observed something or someone, Cecil knew it must be significant.
He found her, one early morning, with such a look on her face, as she watched the Fabul monks go through their daily meditations and practices. Outside of the castle, on the rocky beaches south of Baron, Yang led the group of monks in a series of slow, deliberate moves, with emphasis on breathing and the fluidity of movement, each kick or punch a graceful extension of the monk's body and energy.
Porom watched them from a short distance, perched on the fence that separated the walking path from the beach. Her legs dangled in swinging kicks that reminded Cecil she was still a child, in a rhythm that echoed the crashing waves against the shore. The wind tugged insistently at her robes, pulling at the heavy fabric, trailing a stream of blue behind her.
He continued down the worn walking path, coming up beside her to lean with elbows on the fence.
"It's fascinating," Porom said with a nod toward Yang and his monks. "How alike the monk technique is to spell craft. I've been watching them every morning since their arrival." If the monks sensed they were being observed, they did not show it, never pausing in the continued movement. "Edward and I had so much success with the bards, I wanted to work with the monks as well, and see what spells might be similar enough for them to learn."
"Do you think it can be taught?" Cecil asked, skeptical but curious.
"Master Yang says he is too old to learn new spells, but I think he exaggerates," Porom replied with a grin. "I can sense the potential magic within him, ready to take the shape its caster puts it in."
"This hybrid magic, is it like your Twin Magic?" Cecil found himself fascinated by the concept, an extension of what he had seen with Fusoya, Golbez and Rydia's magic, and what he had tried with his own.
"Of sorts…" Porom answered, though a note of sadness crept in. She looked aside, her eyes distant, not focused on the monks but the tumultuous ocean beyond them.
"Did you see Palom while in Mysidia?" Cecil prompted; his words soft. "Have you reunited yet?"
"No," Porom said with a careful frown. "He was on a mission while I was there and did not return before you called me back."
"A mission? What sort of mission?" Cecil asked, his intrigue piqued; he knew of no mission in Mysidia.
"I don't know," Porom shrugged, and Cecil sensed the truth of it within her. There was a lurking sadness there too, some hurt at being left behind and not told. "I didn't ask. It seemed…" Porom hesitated. "Impolite," she finished. "No one offered so I did not ask."
"Was anyone rude?" Cecil felt suddenly defensive, anger rising that someone, anyone, might make Porom feel this way.
"No." Porom was quick to shake her head. "Not like that. It just seems like something big is about to happen but I'm being kept in the dark."
"You know I tell you everything," Cecil said, trying not to feel defensive, feeling somehow responsible for Porom's current sadness.
"I know," Porom replied, still sounding dejected. She looked to Cecil and offered a small, sad smile.
"Do you still believe in what we're doing?" Cecil asked next, unsure of what her answer might be and finding himself terrified at the prospect of another person losing faith in him. He was suddenly desperate to confirm her ongoing belief in him, to know she still trusted him and his crusade for justice and protection.
"Yes. I believe the Crystals have the capacity for great good in the world," Porom answered, without hesitation, and Cecil knew she spoke the truth, felt the sincerity radiating off her; her childish devotion made his selfish heart sing. He knew of the passing doubts others had and did his best to soothe them away from their minds, but Cecil found he could not be always present in everyone's mind. Rosa alone drove him to distraction.
"But Edge will be at our shores soon," Porom continued, looking now back out to the ocean, her eyes distant on the horizon. "I sense a change in the waters. You need to be ready."
"Thank you, Porom, for always believing in me." He turned to go, to leave her to her musings, sensing that her talkativeness had run out, that she would go quiet and thoughtful next.
"Cecil?" Porom said, and Cecil paused, glancing back at her over his shoulder. She continued, "You should talk to Golbez."
"Oh?" Cecil prompted.
"He may have a better sense of what's coming," she replied, her voice vague and distant. Cecil waited for her to say more, but nothing came. Porom only watched the ocean, as if in a stupor.
Slowly, Cecil backed away from her, as if he were afraid of disrupting a sleeping child, then started back up the path to the castle.
It had come out, eventually, who Golbez was, but the people of Baron had mostly viewed Golbez through the same redemptive lens as Cecil, especially once it was known that the two were brothers. He had been rescued and reclaimed by Cecil and the Light, and now served the Blue Planet. Golbez wore his armor infrequently, letting people look upon his face and mark the resemblance to Cecil.
Cecil found Golbez in the castle's library, seated at a long table which was covered in piles of books, some stacked neatly, some left haphazardly open. Scrolls and bits of parchment also littered the table, some with fresh ink, a nearby ink well dribbling out black liquid onto the table's surface.
"I'm glad you're here," Golbez said, without looking up. He had an open book and a piece of parchment beside it, notes written out with his neat, careful script.
"What did you find?" Cecil asked without preamble, already knowing that Golbez had some purpose here he was finally ready to reveal to Cecil. He could sense a sort of tension in the air, but was unsure if it came from himself or from Golbez.
"The earliest record of the Arch Fiends," Golbez said without emotion. "A detailed account of their first rise in power and eventual defeat."
As Cecil approached the table, Golbez turned the book to angle toward him, showing four portraits across the two pages: The first, a large blue squid creature, with twisting tentacles and a purple cloak secured around his neck; the second, a purple robed skeleton with terrible eyes of yellow fire; the third, a multi-armed snake woman, surrounded by blades and flames; and the fourth, a many-headed blue dragon, swirling currents of air wrapped around its form.
"What of it?" Cecil asked as he looked over the pages.
Golbez flipped to the next page, revealing a full-page portrait of a knight. He wore dark armor, not unlike Golbez's, with a similar horned helmet and long flowing blue cape trailing behind him. His eyes burned yellow from the dark depths of his visor. "Garland first had mastery over the Arch Fiends," Golbez said, tapping the page with a finger. "There's documentation of spells that Garland and the Fiends used I've never heard of." He paused, looking around to see if anyone else lurked in the library with them, but all had silently cleared out at Cecil's entrance. Still, Golbez lowered his voice to a whisper. "Garland was able to drain the Crystals entirely of their power."
"How?" Cecil asked, immediately intrigued.
"I don't know," Golbez answered with a frown. "I need more time with the translation."
"Anything that can help us immediately? Before Edge attacks?" Cecil asked, unable to keep the eagerness from his voice.
"There is one thing," Golbez answered, flipping forward a few pages. "At the moment of Garland's death, the Fiends, using the Crystals, were able to cast a spell to send him back in time, effectively resurrecting Garland for another attempt." He stopped on a page with another illustration: Garland, outfitted in black armor, wicked claws extending from the gauntlets and boots, with similar twisted spikes on the shoulders. It struck Cecil as familiar, like the more natural evolution of the dark knight armor.
"How could we use this?" Cecil asked, not following Golbez's logic.
"Cecil..." Golbez started, looking up from the book to look directly at Cecil, his gray eyes serious. "There is a chance that Edge's uprising may be bigger than we realize."
"No," Cecil protested, shaking his head. "A small band of misfits, nothing that Baron cannot handle."
"And I hope you're right," Golbez replied. "But there have been troubling reports from Mysidia and Fabul. More people are opposing the idea of one ruling entity. They question your methods for collecting power and resources. They may be sympathetic to Edge's cause."
Cecil shrugged, trying to seem casual. "If there are any, they are few and matter little. Edge's rebellion will not go far. Let him be the aggressor and all will witness Baron's might in return. Then, I will show him mercy and he'll return to Eblan, repentant and dutiful."
Golbez raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You think so? I recall the young prince to be rather brash and unpredictable. He might not like this plan of yours."
"Edge will fall in line," Cecil said with a firm certainty. "I will make him."
Golbez was silent, simply observing Cecil for a thoughtful moment. He took a deep breath and sighed it out. "I want you to consider something about this spell." He looked down at the book again, tracing his fingers across a line of text, the words indecipherable to Cecil. "Using the Dark Crystals this way is dangerous to the mind. Garland lost most of his memories each trip."
"Each trip?" Cecil asked. "There was more than one?"
"There's no way to tell how many times Garland reset time, only that every cycle he was defeated again by a group of Light Warriors. Eventually, the loop was broken, and Garland stayed dead." Golbez's gaze was intense and evaluating, not judgmental however, merely observing.
Cecil looked at the book again, at the picture of Garland in his black armor, his mouth open wide to show off rows of terrifying teeth. "These Light Warriors, do they show up again?"
"Throughout time, they appear, to defeat the evil in the world and restore the Crystals to grace," Golbez replied.
"That was us," Cecil murmured, awed by the notion. He imagined himself as an illustration in this book, surrounded by suffusing light. He wondered how history might remember him and his deeds.
"Cecil," Golbez spoke, breaking Cecil's daydream. "Edge is calling himself and his allies the Light Warriors, here to defend the Crystals from darkness. They see you as Garland – a fallen hero, using the Arch Fiends and the Crystals to nefarious ends." He turned the book again toward Cecil, displaying now an illustration of a long, thin sword, gleaming in light. "This is Garland's sword, Zanmoto, before he was consumed by chaos and darkness. It is said to be a holy katana, crafted to slice down evil." Golbez expression softened, now somber and edged with sadness. "Only your death will satisfy them."
"What are you saying, Golbez?" Cecil felt his rising anger and tried to tamper it back down but found his words surfacing with fury. "You tell me of this spell and sword, and of Edge's ridiculous group, so what are you getting at?"
Golbez closed his eyes, tension knitting his brow. He drew in a slow breath, then opened his eyes, steeled to the task at hand. "Zanmoto was last seen in the Underworld, in some deep and forgotten cave. There are reports of the dwarves digging near the Feymarch Cave and I think Edge is seeking the weapon." Golbez hesitated, a fraction of a second, before continuing, "What I am saying is, if all goes wrong and Edge defeats you, there's a chance to do it again." His jaw tightened, words quieter as he continued, "You could go back and try it all again. Do it... differently."
"Differently?" Cecil shot back. "Do you agree with Edge? Am I wrong here?"
"I don't know," Golbez replied with a brutal honesty that dealt a blow to Cecil's heart. "But it might go better, another way, another time." Golbez turned a few pages forward. "Does this feel right to you?" he asked, echoing Rosa's same question only days prior. "Are you truly happy with the world as it is?"
"No," Cecil said sharply, not to the question but to Golbez's entire line of thought. "You're wrong. In the end, my way will be proven to all." He found himself surprised by his pain at Golbez's doubt, of all people, that his brother had lost sight of their shared vision of a better world.
"Brother," Golbez said, his tone cautious. "This could be a gift. When Garland went back in time, he went thousands of years and forgot everything. But if you only go a short way back, a few years or months even, then perhaps you will only forget the lost time. You could forget this outcome, start anew-"
"How would it be different? If I were to forget?" Cecil snapped in reply, the question flippant.
Golbez hesitated, his shoulders sinking as he pondered Cecil's question. "You could leave yourself instructions," he finally answered. "Decisions you'd make differently and things to look out for."
"For this plan to work, I have to die, correct?" Cecil asked, and at Golbez's nod, continued, "I'm not planning on dying, to Edge, even if he has Zanmoto, or to anyone else." His eyes narrowed into a suspicious glare. "Are you planning that? Do you know of someone who is?"
Golbez frowned. Cecil tried to brush against his thoughts with the darkness but felt Golbez's tight control and mastery over his own emotions, all kept contained under a guarded surface. "No," Golbez said after a long silence. "I am only preparing a contingency plan, should Baron fall."
"It will not," Cecil said. He reached over the table and closed the book, then pushed it aside. "Forget your spell and your contingency plans. Edge will not win."
Before Golbez could respond, the sound of roaring engines and whirling blades sounded off somewhere in the distance, muffled by the walls around them but still audible. Cecil and Golbez exchanged a knowing look, then Golbez asked, "Are we expecting a Red Wings ship returning from patrol today?"
"No," Cecil answered quickly, already moving to the exit, with Golbez following closely behind.
The Red Wings ship, the Sky Siren, made its noisy descent down to the earth, throwing buffeting winds wildly around the assembled group, tugging at hair and cloaks. When the ship settled, the engines went eerily silent, leaving a thick tension hanging in the air as they waited for someone to deboard.
It was the ship's captain who finally appeared, his posture stiff and formal as he approached them. He made a hasty bow to Cecil, then stood straight, awaiting his command.
"Report," Cecil commanded. He tried to get a sense of what the captain was feeling or thinking, reaching tentatively out with the darkness, but found too much background noise: Rosa's sorrow and despair, Rydia's unquenchable anger, Porom's lingering confusion and uncertainty, and Edward's strange detachment. They all threatened to overwhelm him; he pulled the darkness back, sighing out his frustration.
"The Falcon's been spotted," the captain said, not noticing or just not reacting to Cecil poking at his mind. "She was waving a white flag. She's en route to Baron now. We left them with two Red Wings ships to escort her." The captain produced a small scroll, holding it out for Cecil to take. "Prince Edge sends word."
Cecil took the scroll in hand, looking it over. It was sealed and stamped with the Eblan royal crest. With a frown, he broke the wax seal with his fingers and unfurled the parchment.
In Edge's scrawling script, there was a single line, reading: Ready to finish this?