Chapter Twenty-Three

The clouds broiled above the Temple of the Creation. Black lightning flashed across the sky, bathing the world in absolute darkness for a fraction of a second. Shadows formed on the great plain that had once been the cradle of Centran civilization. The storm had come, a force of pure entropy, ready to take back the power of the creator.

Slowly, Natoli began to chant.

"Nothing
Out of it all comes
To it all returns
Final unbeing
Created
Destroyed
Born
Died
All power is born from you.
Nothing
Take back what is yours!"

Ebon bolts of lightning, like jagged gashes in creation, streaked down from the gathering storm, into the five figures gathered into the square. Purple bolts arced from their bodies, and were swallowed by the obsidian lightnings. Gilgamesh screamed. Even the embodiment hadn't been as painful as this.

***

An amethyst portal opened in the temple, and out of it strode the shimmering figure of Hyne. Enveloped in dark lightning, Natoli looked at him.

"You…" she said, as her body was racked in pain by the bolts of nothingness.

"Yes. Did you really think I would not come?" Hyne flung out his hand, and Natoli was covered in lilac flame. The storm, without the driving force of the sorceress, faltered, and the knights and sorceress sighed at the sudden respite. Hyne held up his hand, and sang.

It started as just one note, but as it went on, other noises joined with it. The cries as the knights struggled with their power being leached from them. The rising wind of the storm. The rustlings of tonberries and blobras moving in the shadows. As the note became louder, more complex, and larger, it started to take on everything. Everything the world had been, everything it was, everything it will be, everything was in Hyne's song. The black lightnings faltered, and replaced the energy they had stolen. The shadows turned back. The storm dispersed, and Hyne looked around at the prone bodies of his children. Hyne opened up the interval, and stepped back into the far away plain.

***

Gilgamesh struggled to his feet. His eye fell on Natoli, still and cold. Gilgamesh laid his head on her chest, and wept.
Seifer walked across to Seoman, and stirred him with his foot. "What shall we do with them? Gilgamesh?"

Gilgamesh looked up, his white eyes filled with tears. "Bury him here…he was a good man, once. One of the noblest." He picked up Natoli. "But there's something I've got to do." Cradling Natoli in his arms, he opened the dimensional interval.

***

A wind stirred at the bottom of the Deep Sea Deposit. Gilgamesh stepped out and walked slowly across to the ruined temple of Bahamut, talking to Natoli of the good times they had had there, of friends long since dead, of places long since forgotten. As he walked, the ghosts of the Galbadians followed them. Moving inside the holy ground, he laid Natoli gently down on the altar. The red knight stood alone, and his tears splashed gently on the dusty ground.

He stood there in silent vigil for hours, before he remembered Natoli's last words. He went to fulfil them. To guide the Angel. He opened the interval, and left Galba, the spirits at peace at last. Their sorceress had been returned to them.

***

The moon hung low over the mountains of Centra, and shone on the great temple of Hyne. Empty torch brackets jutted from the walls around the great circular courtyard, long deserted. Piles of rubble cluttered the edge that had once been balconies.

Two tall figures that seemed to exude danger flanked their sorceress. One in a silver trenchoat glanced at his companion, a figure in black leather with a huge blade slung across his black. A red swathed figure bent down in front of Rinoa.
There, in the shadow of the ruined temple, Gilgamesh swore the Knight's Oath to Rinoa.