Disclaimer: These are not my characters. They are the sole property of Squaresoft. I am merely borrowing them for the purpose of storytelling, stepping briefly into their world to influence their actions.













"Absolute Zero"



Part Five: Faith



Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.



- Saint Francis of Assisi











Fading Out





"I'm running out of patience for that old curmudgeon." Running her hands through her mat of short rusty hair, Alexis entered the kitchen. She slumped, literally crashed, into the wicker chair next to Arvis. "He's got no sense of gratitude."



"Now dear, " Arvis passed a steaming cup toward his niece, and produced a cloudy smile. "Have a little tolerance. Indulge the man. He's seen so much."



'Doesn't he realize that we need him, Uncle?"



"He's done his part. So much is left, I know, I know, but he hasn't the strength, dear."



"He does have the strength. I know it. That's what bothers me." She took a deep gulp of the scorching liquid; scoffed. "He doesn't want to recover. That's the thing."



Arvis said nothing, and that, in itself, was a form of acknowledgment. The both sat, silently in the tiny room, faces lit intermittently by two small candles. The candles both bent to face the other, almost questioningly. They flickered and kept burning, as did the two remaining members of the Returners.







Interrogation





Edgar paced through the dungeon of the castle, walking by cell after cell. These bloody rogues, he thought. What is wrong with these people? He thought of Locke for a brief moment, a wave of gratitude, thankfulness that he'd never been the one to throw him behind bars like this, washed over him. And then, that was his friend. What right did he have to throw these criminals behind bars? Out of fear? Edgar suddenly felt very old.



He eyed one of them, the one they called "The Hawk." Truly, his eyes were like those of a hawk, constantly wide and watching. The Hawk chirped at him as he passed, he almost swore he heard him. This one had killed several people in South Figaro. Not deaths in a riot, but premeditated murder. Edgar could not figure why, and he felt he would rather not know. It was for the courts to determine, anyway. He shuddered at the thought of a bloodthirsty hawk, taking its prey on the innocent. Had his kingdom really come to this?



He looked a few more of them over, trying to finger the right one. One who would be able to supply the knowledge he needed.



A dark-skinned fellow, the one they had found several weeks ago. Unusual. A thief, no doubt, but somehow different. He was asleep now, in the corner of the cell. Edgar listened to his muttering of trains and ghosts. He would not know anything, he decided, and kept walking.



He stopped before the cell where the man named Aillen Garland sat. Aillen was awake, and eyed Edgar cautiously. The youth was tall, lanky, with sandy blond hair. Dark eyes, like emeralds at night. He was quiet, intelligent. Edgar knew this was the one he needed. He passed a hand through his hair, hanging loosely behind him.



"Good-day, Aillen. How are your accommodations pleasing you?"



"Well as far as cells in a castle dungeon go . . . "



"Yes, yes. Not too pleasant at all, I agree. But that is the way things are in this kingdom. We don't deal kindly with criminals, you realize."



"Yes."



"The reason I am here is to ask you a favour."



"What could you possible imagine that I would care to offer? I owe you little, if not nothing at all."



"You don't have to accept, but I feel it will be beneficial to both of us."



"Go on then, King Edgar."



"Your crimes have not been great, and I think we can most likely work things out. Outside the courts, let us say. Would you not prefer this?"



"Yes, right, I would much prefer that."



"Let's begin then, shall we?"









Once Home





"Here, Celes. That's it, right there."



"This . . . This is really your grandmother's house?"



Locke nodded his head, smiled sadly. Celes could see the child that he once was spread across his face. She knew that he had loved the woman dearly, often giddily telling stories about her. Stories she'd told him as a child. Celes, who had no family, had always listened attentively. An almost envious admiration. His spark lit her insides and she felt the warmth of family, however far away.



"It was her house, alright. I remember we lived here . . . after my mum fell." He stopped, staring at the great cottage. Green, like the leaves of dandelions. Here in the snow, it looked truly organic. A whisper of Spring. He didn't finish the story, and Celes took his hand.



"It's a lovely house, Locke. Did they build this themselves? "



"I suppose Pop would have built it, yes, back in the day. Quite a long time ago, then. Nan had the energy for it though, that's for bloody sure. I'd say they planned the layout together, sure enough. It has her mark all over it, like."



"What did you say her name was?"



"Lacy."



"Lacy . . . Lacy Sheeva. That's so interesting."



"Let's go inside, shall we?



They walked through the door into the tranquil green cottage, the floor creaking like it had many times before. Celes thought the interior smelt faintly of Locke, smudged into a hollow older smell with time.





String of beads



Sebastian had a string, and on it he had placed several beads. Each bead in his collection was made from a different material, a piece of precious stone, rare wood. Each bead, a different colour, signified a different Esper. He added to this necklace as he gathered appropriate beads. As it was at the time, he had collected nearly ten of them.



The children were dazzled by the materials on this necklace, such rarities they had never seen before. One young girl, Katarin's daughter, had taken a particularly strong interest in them, and wanted to know what they all represented. Sebastian could not turn her away, so on this day they sat near the fire, and he taught her about Espers.



Minuet, as she was called, was very intrigued. The girl's interest in the things he spoke of was very great, perhaps the greatest of anyone in Mobliz. She was a true lady of spirit, he smiled. Showing her each of the pretty beads on the line.



"This one is blue lode-stone. It represents the Esper, Shiva, the ice goddess."



"Ice? Like the snow? Will she make the snow go away, and not kill all our vegetables?"



"I'm sure that if you ask her, and you are a good, kind girl, she will temper the storms and protect us as best she can."



"Will the snow stop?"



"I can't answer that, child. Maybe if we all do our part to help others and keep of the right spirits and mind, we will be spared from the storm. I know it is hard, but I feel this is a test to us as people."



"Oh, I see." She ran her fingers across the surface of the beads. "Will you show me how to pray to them? How to use the beads, like you do? When you count them, like that? I'd like to know, pretty please!" Her short curls bounced with excitement.



Sebastian showed her how to work through the necklace of beads, reciting a grace to each Esper as he went along. Minuet watched closely, and memorized this practice.









Time







Inside the small green cottage, they waited for Setzer. Anise had told them he would be in town this evening, and so they waited, passing time until then.



Locke had lit the fireplace, and after the initial cloud of smoke that choked them out, the cottage warmed nicely. Celes, wandered through the living room, pouring through the objects, and pictures there. There was a surprisingly untouched look about the room. As if the last person there had been Lacy, herself. There was a painting of a woman. Her hair was strawberry, tied at the neck. She had most of Locke's features, with the exception of maybe his nose. Hers shorter, more upturned at the end. She was very beautiful, Celes noticed. That must have been his mother, Simone.



Locke snuck in from behind her, tackled her hard. They flew across the room unto the thick couch in the corner, toppling it over as they went. They wrestled, poking, tickling, laughing. A cloud of dust fanned across the stream of light entering from above them. Celes gave in, exhausted, and Locke crumpled onto her. Pressed into her from above, a tired ball of sweat and heat. She breathed roughly, taking sharp gulps of air.



"You're crazy. A crazy, crazy man."



"Perhaps, dear. But I did get you, now didn't I?"



"It was a sneak attack."



"Yes, it was that. I'll give you as much."



He pressed into her, absorbing the heat of her body. Met her eyes with a devilish smile. His mouth nibbled for hers, and she pressed back at him. They reached for each other, feeling for a warmth. Finding it in each other.







Freezing Point





For whatever reason, the snow held back that evening.



A few flakes moved gracefully though the cracks between the buildings of Zozo, and a few scattering particles danced across the gutted corpse of Thamasa. Elsewhere, though, there was pure silence. The air was calm, eery. Something was waiting. Something terrible.



An island in the North Sea, located off the coast from the mountains where Narshe hid, sat waiting in fear. Small, with a modest range of mountains, it was separate from its brother continents, and vulnerable. The sea, which crept into trembling bays and harbours around this island, had begun to freeze. The green swells hardened a glistening white, spreading outward, like a disease.



The ice pressed into the land, causing it the creak at the seems with the pressure. Opening in a few small areas, an gaping wound. Under the earth, large worms that devoured things whole, were plunging deeper into the bedrock, seeking refuge. Escape was uncertain, even for them.



From the air, this looked like a frosting, a decoration, and devastatingly beautiful. A harsh loveliness, that bit with poison if one drew too near. The island, a faint white embryo, growing outward in shards. White gradually overtaking the green, growing larger and stronger. In the silent absence of snow, you could almost hear it grow, consume.



The North Sea was freezing. There was no question about that.









Aillen Garland





"Now, Aillen, I am concerned about the situation in Figaro." Edgar began. They now sat, facing each other in a small room. Aillen was chained at the wrists, securing him to the table. He eyed Edgar through a twisted lock of hair, curtaining his brow. "I have a feeling you may know how the climate there fares. The social climate, that is, of course."



"Let's be frank, your Highness. Alright? You want to know who's plotting to kill you, or otherwise overthrow the kingdom, right?"



"Really, now. Aillen, you mustn't jump ahead of me . . . "



"Am I right, then?"



"Yes, you are correct. I have feared desertion for some time now. I am not a stupid man. Please, tell me what you know."

"I'm not an authority, alright, so don't hold me to this, right? The truth is, that there IS someone with a vendetta against you, it's just, well, I'm not sure who it is."



"Is that the truth?"



"Yes, man. I'm a lot of things, but I'm no liar, right."



"Hold your tongue."



They sat, quietly, holding a wedge of silence between them. Time passed like this for a spell, a cold moment's hour. Aillen coughed, and Edgar jumped a little. Aillen didn't even smirk. They remained stoic, unwilling to resign. Finally, Edgar won out.



"Alright, man, King Edgar. It's like this. I know of at least two blokes that you should be keeping tabs on, right. Like I said, I don't know the specifics, right? But these two will let it out, sure enough, if you are keen to watch unnoticed. The first is a rather seedy . . . "



Edgar listened patiently, absorbing the gracious information, however disheartening. His own subjects. This is what it had come down to. Aillen was trustworthy, he knew well enough, but he played him for all it was worth, anyway. He was not a stupid man. Once finished, he thanked the slender man, and offered him his freedom. As Aillen moved to leave, he turned to face the king once more, questioningly. Hand on his belt.



"Your Highness . . . You . . . You know who I am, don't you?"



"Yes, Mr. Garland. I have gathered as much."









Minuet's prayer





The girl folded her hands, holding the beads, and prayed from the bottom of her soul.





Shiva, sweet little ice goddess, please spread your icy wings toward us and hold us safe from the snow. Create for us, please, a shelter from this terrible storm.



Please Shiva, ice faery, I hold your lodestone. It is so cold and blue. So pretty like you must be. Will you answer my prayer, will you protect my friends and family?



The snow, is it a punishment? I know you wouldn't punish us, would you? Shiva, I don't want to be cold. Please spare us, your good devoted friends.



Please Shiva, no more snow . . .









High skies





Setzer arrived in Kohlingen, as the sun was setting.



Anise had informed him of his friend's arrival and directed him to where he would most likely find them. He approached the cottage, which stood lazily like a limp blade of grass. He knocked, tentatively, then immediately proceeded inside. Impatience aside, he was very much looking forward to this reunion.



Inside, he found them, fast asleep on the couch. Celes, angelic as ever. Radiant, even in slumber. Locke curled around Celes' back, like a dog. Yes, rather like a thin wild dog. Setzer chuckled heartily, and they began to stir.



"Looking forward to seeing me then! Asleep, I say. You flatter me, you really do!"



"Setzer, old man! You do that well enough yourself."



"Old, nothing. I take it you have been well then, Locke?"



"As always, friend."



"Celes, you are as stunning as ever. Even more so, I believe." He reached for her hand and clasped it between his own calloused paws, encased in rings.



"Oh Setzer! Must you . . . "



"Of course I must. I don't let radiant beauty just sit there, unnoticed. You haven't changed." He smirked, flicked a strand of pure silver over his shoulder, and chuckled again.



"It's very good to see you again."



"Yeah, it's rather odd. A stroke of luck, that."



"Not so much luck, Locke, though my relationship with Chance is as good as ever. (Laughs) No, but really. I have been keeping an eye on the two of you. In my ship in the sky, my baby, The Falcon."



"You've been trailing us, then?"



"Something like that."



Setzer admitted that he had been keeping tabs on them, as well as others they had once known, since the snow had begun to fall. He had not interfered with them, for obvious reasons (that Locke could not grasp as quite that obvious). He shared the tales of happiness and sorrow with them, and they felt a pang of loneliness. He also informed them that he had also been traveling quite often to Narshe, and believed that they would find a visit there most interesting indeed.



The next morning, the three took flight for Narshe.