The house is old and run-down; her mother, always able to look on the bright side, calls it and teases that at least she'll have a hard time knowing how much of the damage her daughter has just done in her playing. The once ivory-white walls are dulled to a near-grey, and the carpeted floor is a mottled patchwork, testifying to generations of wear that no cleaning spell can hope to reverse.
But it's not so bad. The house offers an excellent view across the long-barren Great Salt Lake, which will keep the little girl entertained for hours, especially when some other kids are playing around on airbikes or there is a launch for Selene, the city in space. And the terminal can keep her mystified by sights of faraway lands and tales of legendary heroes. So she grows up, never really wondering why she is never allowed to step outside.
Of course, she will occasionally sneak out during the long days when her mother is out — and she has neglected to lock the door. She never goes far, and always moves about with caution, so that no one will see her come or go. She doesn't really know why; probably some instinct inherited from her mother. She always seems to have this air that someone is watching her; she denies it every time the little girl asks her, but she is as sure as a girl of eight can be that her mother is hiding something. or hiding from something.
It's not uncommon for her to dream about being able to go outside, to have friends and adventures like the shows on the terminal. She always gets sad when she has dreams like that. Sad, and scared. Scared that everyone will hate her, that for some reason they will all want to hurt her. She never mentions these dreams or these feelings to her mother.
Usually her mother will come home from wherever she goes in the daytime with a smile, swooping her up into her arms with a How's my girl? or Come here, my little angel! All smiles, she will head over to the stove and ask what she wanted for dinner — already pulling out the ingredients for a Gysahl stew, as the answer is always the same. They will talk about what the little girl has seen on the terminal, or her mother will tell stories about Selene, which the girl can never get enough of, and her mother never seems to run out of.
Today, she is running a bit late, and the little girl is getting hungry. Not for the first time, she is eying the stove with a mind to try once more to start the thing herself. Even though she doesn't like going near the thing — the heat conjured memories of being surrounded by fire, with people shouting at her from all around — hunger overrides all.
She never gets the chance to face the stove. Just as she has nearly made her mind to brave the fragmented memories, the door fades open, and her mother bustles through. Her customary smile is gone, replaced by a shadowed face masked with grim seriousness as she shoots straight to the closet.
Sarina, get together all of your things you can carry, are the first words her mother utters, as she withdraws a shoulder pack from the closet. We're going away for a while.
The little girl nearly blinked. What is happening? Why is her mother acting so strange?
Where are we going, Mama? she asks, not moving an inch.
Her mother shoots a glare at her. Please dear, I don't have time to explain. Just get your things together. Hurry.
Now, she is stunned by the uncharacteristic harshness of her mother's admonition. Why is her mother being so mean to her? She hasn't done anything, has she? Her vision blurs, and she resists the urge to burst into tears. Are...Are you mad at me, Mama? she chokes.
Her mother pauses from stuffing her belongings into her pack, and her expression softens. Of course not, dear, she says, rushing over to her daughter and kneeling down to her eye level. Resting one hand on her shoulder, she strokes away a tear that has begun to creep down the little girl's cheek. Sarina, you have to understand that what's happening has nothing to do with you. This is not your fault, and I had so hoped that you would never have to be put through this again. A shadow passes over her face, and she averts her eyes. But there are sometimes things that I just have to do, for both of our futures. Someday, I hope you'll understand.
The little girl gazes at her mother's pained expression, unable to comprehend a thing about what is happening, or why, or what was making her mother act this way. But she nods.
Where are we going, Mama? she repeats.
Far away, dear, her mother says, getting up and returning to the closet to withdraw a white-feathered sleeveset. It had been there for as long as the little girl can remember, despite the fact that she has not once been cold enough to need it. Someplace where we can start a real life for a change. Here, put this on.
What happens next will register to the girl only in a blur, but will be clarified countless times in her nightmares for years to come. The door faded open, and three white-clad figures — two men and a woman — burst in. Her mother spins around, then freezes with a terrified look on her face.
Sorceress Kailen, says the woman, Come with us now, and we can avoid any unpleasantries. She sees the little girl standing frozen before the stove, having still not budged. Get her.
A wave of energy erupts from her mother's hands, piercing through magenta shells to throw all three intruders against the wall. Stay away from my daughter! she screams.
The three strangers react instantly, and what follows is a display of power that threatens to tear the very house apart. Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, the sleeveset held by the girl's mother literally explodes, sending feathers, many now charred and black, raining down on the little girl who is standing in the corner, screaming herself hoarse. A sickly burnt odor fills the room.
To a young girl who has barely stepped outside the doors of her own house, the horrors she must now witness are unimaginable. She was likely saved from complete madness only by not truly comprehending the battle that is playing out in front of her. In the end, she is the only one left standing; all three of the strangers lie prone on the floor, as does her mother, fallen against a wall, coughing blood.
she screams, running to her mother's side, gripping her torn clothes and attempting to pull her to her feet.
No, dear, her mother cautions, feebly motioning to the door. You must...get away. I can't let you live...as I have.
Why, Mama? the girl queries, searching for words to vocalize the whirlwind of feelings and thoughts that make it impossible for her to think.
Her mother reaches up, valiantly attempting to stroke her daughter's cheek. Sarina...you can't stay here any longer. My...little angel...please don't let this...happen to you....
Her eyes flutter closed, even as a whispered escapes from her lips. Her arm tries weakly to push the eight-year-old girl away, then falls limp.
She is still trying to get her mother to sit up, when a strange violet glow emerges in the woman's chest. Before the girl can react, there erupts a blinding flash, and the glow becomes a lightning streak of energy, plowing straight into the little girl. She screams as she is thrown backwards, and for an instant her entire body goes numb. She lies where she fell, moving robotically until she can regain control of her nerves. As she stands, an odd tingling washes through her body.
She staggers back to where her mother lies, and tries once more to get her up. But it is no good; her chest no longer rises or falls to show her breathing, and her eyes remain closed and still. Even the little girl who has only seen death on the terminal knows on some level that her mother is gone. With tears welling up in her eyes, she turns and runs, past the bodies of the three white-clothed strangers, out the door and away from the remnants of her life.
- - = = = = - -
Sometimes, Sarina will look out the window at the planet below, spinning too slowly for the normal human eye to detect. Shrouded by wispy white clouds, the greens and browns of the continents and blues of the oceans make the world shine like some jewel or magic stone in the night sky.
On the other side, in stark contrast, lies the curve of the moon. Its surface, obscured by shadow, seems sinister and foreboding, the object of nightmare stories told by mothers to naughty children. Though all the monsters have been exterminated in the Great Purges decades ago, the lunar world still holds the aura of darkness that has permeated its history.
And then there is the white disk of Selene, floating in the vacuum between the two bodies, caught in their eternal gravitational struggle. The city in space, still believed by many to be a myth or a fool's imaginings, is a true community, a place which thousands call home.
Sarina calls no place home. Selene is merely the place where she has been for the longest time in her life. She had only fragments of memory from her childhood, and when the memories became clear, she willed them away with all her strength. She has only one memento from her first, hidden life; she always bore a band on her left wrist, attached to which was a single white feather.
Blinking, she glances over her shoulder at the source of the voice. He is a young man, perhaps a year or two older than she, clad in a black padded jacket — an unusual sight in the climate-controlled city. A long, braided lock of otherwise close-cut brown hair falls down the left side of his face, adding to his sort of roguish look. But the feature that gives her pause is his eyes, penetrating grey eyes that seem to look inside her, without concern for such things as clothes or flesh. He is looking at her with his brows slightly furrowed in a sort of concern.
she asks, frowning back at him.
He shrugs. I was just a little curious about you.
Every time you come in here, you stand in front of this window, staring out into space. His voice, she notes, is nearly as dry as her own. Not too many people come to bars if they don't want company.
Bars? Frowning, she looks at the room around her, and her eyebrows go up as she sees the place for the first time. I'm in a bar, she mused.
Now, it is his eyebrows' turn to jump. You never noticed before?
I only come for the view.
He scrutinizes her for a moment, eyes seeming to bore straight through her. Why do you spend so much time looking out at space? he asks, narrowing his eyes in a way that make her even more uncomfortable.
Because, I wonder what it would be like to be out there. She sighs, allowing herself to forget his presence for a moment, and softly intones, To dart about the heavens, to mingle with the stars. To be a part of that perfect world, not watch it from afar.'
One-winged Angel, he identified.
She blinks. You know it?
Know it, sure. But I never really cared for it. It's so unnecessarily depressing.
Yes. She could have made a life for herself in the human world, but she has to keep brooding after what she can never have again. It's pointless self-abuse.
She makes a face. It's a song.
It's a story. Songs usually have a meaning within them. Take Eyes on Me, a classic from —
She cuts him off, shaking her head. Eyes on Me? You can't really expect that song to be taken seriously.
His eyebrows jump once again.
It's a total fairie tale. The idea that she could even notice the guy, much less have a thing for him, is totally unrealistic. It might be a fun thing to fantasize about, but it could never really happen.
Those eyes peer at her again. You seem to have it all figured out.
So do you.
You free for dinner?
She blinks.
He shrugs, still not averting his eyes. Something about you is telling me that I should ask you to dinner.
Well, I work over dinner, she says, a little haltingly.
He nods. Are you working right now?
- - = = = = - -
They are walking down one of the station's balcony paths, surrounded on three sides by the emptiness of space. Even the floor was composed of glasteel, the walkway marked only by a pair of white guiding lines. Sarina has picked the path, of course, and her companion seems content to let her have her way.
Do you come here often? he asks.
It's one of my favorite places, she replies.
So when you're not stargazing in bars, you're stargazing from balconies.
I do have a job.
Everyone has a job. Do you have a life?
She stops, spinning to glare at her companion. And what is that supposed to mean?
The eyebrows again. Why so defensive?
I've known you for less than an hour, and you're taking apart my whole life?
Actually, I thought I'd try to take it on whole.
She starts walking again. Why do you even care?
That's one of the things I'm trying to find out.
She hmmphs. Is this mysterious stranger act supposed to be cool?
Why are you trying so hard to avoid my question?
She glares at him again. I don't share details about myself with people I just met. I don't even know your name.
He nodded. That's understandable. I'm Darren.
She walks away.
You know, you don't have to say a word to answer me.
Good. I'm going now.
What's the hurry? He is following her. You don't have anywhere else to be.
How do you know?
I know. You spend your whole life looking out at the stars, wishing you were somewhere else. Or maybe just wondering what it would be like. You're the one-winged angel.
Once again, she is stopped in her tracks. What do you want?
I told you, I'm not sure. Just that there's something about you that makes me want to know more.
She folds her arms. You seem to have all the answers already.
He takes a step closer. I know who you are. But I also need to know why, or I'll never really understand you.
Why do you even want to?
Once again, his eyes peered into her. This time, the effect is so that her heart skips a beat. Because I've never met anyone like you. You're a mystery to me, and that's not a feeling I enjoy.
Her breath was coming as if she had just ran a circuit, and her heart seemed to be pounding against her chest. She couldn't recall ever experiencing a feeling like this before. Then guess how I feel.
You're afraid.
I'm afraid of you? she asks, almost plaintively.
He shakes his head. No. You're afraid of yourself.
She averts her eyes, trying to bring her breathing under control. Then, she senses his hand touching her cheek, and freezes. Her eyes jump up to meet his again, and she senses the first hint of emotion in his face. For a few seconds, they remain locked in each other's gazes. Then, in a simple action that seems to her a flash of motion, he leans forward and kisses her.
Her breath catches, and every muscle in Sarina's body locks itself in place. For the seeming eternity in which she can feel the pressure of his lips on her own, not a single other sense can register on her mind, and not a single thought may pass through it. It is as if she is caught in some sort of knot in time, unable to move beyond this one instant.
Then, the moment is over, just as suddenly as it has began. He is standing, just as he had been before, with that same, indiscernible emotion shown on his face. As if nothing had happened.
He speaks first. And something about that makes me afraid of you, too.
- - = = = = - -
It isn't exactly the beginning of a faerie-tale romance. Nonetheless, Sarina spends the next weeks in a sort of trance. For years, she has managed to stumble through life perfectly well, without having anyone else in it.
But now, suddenly, there is someone else. Their relationship is in many ways as strange as their meeting; one will show up at one of the other's haunts, and they will take it from there, usually wandering around the city together in bouts of silence punctuated with disjointed conversation. And through these conversations, she begins to see through the mystery surrounding this man. Darren, like her, has no family or close friends, although they will occasionally meet casual acquaintances of his while walking through the promenade. He lives in the apartment cluster, though nowhere near her, and works at the reactor every other day. Though he never talks about himself, she suspects that his life, unlike hers, has simply been exceptionally dull.
Weeks become months, and Sarina begins to adjust to her new life — or, as Darren puts it, having a life. And she can tell a difference. Now, there is something driving her to get out of bed in the morning, a focus to her daily actions. And she does begin to notice her surroundings more than she used to — now she is perfectly aware when she is entering a bar. She is almost angry at herself, for becoming such a cliché: the little lost girl who learns how to love, but then she finds that she is actually enjoying her life, for the first time in an eternity.
She is walking with Darren along one of Selene's promenades, in one of their usual bouts of silence, when a stray word on one of the wall TVs catches her attention. She blinks, and her chest suddenly tightens, though the speaker's words have not registered on her conscious mind.
What was that? she asks, stepping closer to the screen.
While the possibility of a Sorceress in hiding somewhere on Selene is remote at best, the announcer was saying, SeeD nonetheless feels it to be its responsibility to investigate. If Sorceress Kailen did indeed have a daughter, she would have lived for over a decade without causing any notable disturbance. Still, where there is a Sorceress, there is always a threat.
And in the space of those few seconds, Sarina feels as if a spear has been run through her chest. Her vision blurs as her eyes search madly about her for Darren's form, something to steady herself against as the world begins to spin. As her legs give out under her, she can feel his arms stopping her fall, his voice breaking through the haze and calling her body back under the control of her mind.
Are you all right? he asks.
She looks once again at the screen, yet the announcer is gone. For a second, she hopes that what she saw was only a hellish nightmare.
she says.
- - = = = = - -
You're a Sorceress?!
Unable to speak, unable even to look at him, she nods, eyes fixed on the floor of her room.
A long bout of silence follows her affirmation. Not like their usual silent periods; this time, the quiet seems oppressive, as if the pressure of the air is going to crush her if she doesn't cry out. Yet she keeps quiet, for reasons she herself does not understand. Perhaps only because she cannot think of a single word to say.
Eleven years ago, her life had fallen apart — and, she is sure, there lay some part of her first years that was also scarred — because of this power that she now has. She certainly didn't ask to be a Sorceress, and she has never given anyone reason to fear her, yet nonetheless that battle to which she was witness to when she was eight years old has led SeeD to come hunting her down.
Perhaps this is why she has never made any attachments in her life on Selene; should she have to escape, no one would notice her departure or wonder where she went. Any such reasoning would have to be on a subconscious level, however; she has never really given much thought to her identity as a Sorceress. Indeed, she has never truly been sure that this is what that burst of energy from her mother's body truly meant. Of course, she knows — the power is within her, and she cannot deny it, even if she has managed to ignore it for eleven years.
If this news had come even three months ago, she could hop on a transport with no regrets. There would have been nothing to look back to; she would simply take up hiding somewhere else. Now, however....
Darren is sitting on the opposite side of the room, shaking his head. What does he think of all this, she wonders. Whatever their relationship was, she cannot imagine where it might go from here. Until that moment on the promenade, she had managed to fool herself as to how significant her power was, to herself and to him. Now, she must face the fact that this man may disappear from her life, leaving her with the void which she now knows she had. Maybe it would have been better if she had never met him.
No. It would have been better if SeeD had not come into her house eleven years ago and killed her mother. Or if they were not coming now.
Finally, she speaks. I...have to go, she says, voice cracking.
Darren is silent for another moment. Finally, he stands, grey eyes searching deep inside her. Where are you going to go?
She shakes her head. Away. I don't know where. Someplace where I can't be found.
And you'll live, cut off from everyone around you, just in case you are and you have to leave again.
Don't...don't analyze me.
What would you rather I do? The first edge of a tone appears in his voice, which gradually raises to a shout. Would you rather I ask, what the hell were you thinking when you told me this? Why couldn't you just disappear into the night and leave me wondering, instead of obliging me by law to give my name to SeeD? Why did I have to know this, Sarina? Why?
Taken aback by the harshness of his words, she does not respond, and another bout of silence passes.
As soon as I saw you, I knew there was this weight you were carrying, he continues after a moment, voice trembling but calm. You'd been carrying it for a long time, I knew that. So long that you'd managed to hide it from yourself. I could tell all that. But I could never figure out what it was that made you that way. And I didn't expect...ever to find out.
She simply looks at him, unable to formulate a thought.
I didn't think you'd ever be able to open up enough to let anyone see who you are. He takes a step forward. I...was wrong. And I don't want you to run away, someplace where you'll become the same person I met. I want to come with you.
For an instant, SeeD and her predicament do not matter in the least. She embraces him, trembling, wanting never to let go.
- - = = = = - -
Intervigilium. That's what I'll call it. The woman looks approvingly at the image laid out on the canvas before her.
translated the man behind her. Stepping forward, he regards the image she has created on the canvas before them.
Twenty-three years have accustomed the two of them to lives which they had never expected to live. Sarina has transformed from a lonely girl caught in the shadows of her past, to a happy, content wife and mother, looking forward to the future. And Darren has gone from mysterious stranger to steadfast husband, and a wonderful father for their child.
They have lived in the countryside of Northern Centra for over two decades, building first a home and then a family. Their nine-year-old daughter has grown up without having to worry for her safety, and without being forbidden to go outside. It would be a dream come true for Sarina, had such a future ever even occurred to her.
Speaking of sleep, Darren continues, Ria's been in bed for an hour. You can finish the painting tomorrow.
Oh, it is finished, she replies. But if I couldn't think of a name now, I'd be jumping up in the middle of the night to write ideas down.
He smiles. You'll be second-guessing your name all night long anyway. It took you days to convince yourself about Audax.
You just don't understand how important this is.
Well, maybe when you decide to show these to somebody —
She elbows him.
They both turn to see a young girl standing in the door of the study. She has brown hair that reaches just past her shoulders, and is clutching a Moomba doll to her chest, with a slightly worried expression on her face.
Sarina hurried over and kneels down to her. What is it, dear? Why aren't you in bed?
There's some strange people outside, the girl explained. I heard them talking.
Sarina frowns, looking up at Darren. she asks.
There's a first time for everything, he replies, heading for the case where he keeps his combat staff.
Ria, go to your room, all right? Sarina says, softly but urgently. Her daughter nods, and turns to leave. Sarina also steps into the hallway, but, absently fingering the white feather secured to her wrist, she turns toward the door rather than the bedrooms. At the moment, she is only curious about the intruders, but a strange sense of apprehension is beginning to grow.
She carefully released the guard on the front door, then faded it out. It was dark outside, but she could almost instantly hear the rustling of footsteps somewhere nearby. Many footsteps.
Who's there? she asks into the darkness.
There are lights in the yard. Bobbing, flickering lights. Behind the trees. Torches. As she watches, a crowd of people emerge, one by one, into the clearing leading up to her door. She can recognize some of them; the young man who owns the transportation garage in town, the woman who polices the market. In the flickering light of the torches, their faces gaunt and hard in the flickering light.
For a moment, they just stare at her, and her back at them. Sarina can still not bring herself to believe what is happening, that this is not some horrible dream. Her hands begin to shake.
cries the young man.
This sparks a fury of shouts and jeers, as everyone, without moving a centimeter forward, tries to get their piece in. The noise is deafening. Yet that first word, by that young man who had always had a smile for her when she came to buy fuel for her car, the screams of that woman who would never say an unkind word...looking now at the hate in those familiar faces of old friends, cut straight through her like a knife. She feels sick, looking at them.
After in immeasurable eternity of hate, a stranger pushes his way through. More than his scarred, ruthless face or the battle axe at his side, the first thing she noticed was the pressed, white uniform that nearly stops her heart for good.
A SeeD.
As he steps forward, the shouting dies down. He stands around two meters ahead of her, cold eyes filled with a sort of impersonal contempt. As you can see, he begins, gruff voice showing no sign of emotion, we know who you are...Sorceress Sarina.
She shakes her head, heart pounding. N...no, there's a mistake —
There's no mistake.
Another SeeD steps out of the crowd, a strange cylindrical machine slung from his shoulder. We can contain your power with this Junction Machine, he says. You'll be giving your life for the safety of the world.
What's going on out here?
Darren, staff in hand, charges out the door, planting himself between her and the SeeDs like some knight from a storybook. What is this? he demands, glaring at the crowd.
That woman you're protecting is a threat to our civilization, the first SeeD says. We've come to apprehend her. Don't make this difficult.
Look, I don't know who gave you that idea, but you've got the wrong house, Darren insists, not budging. I'd like you all to get off my property.
Did you put a spell on him, Sorceress? demands the young man. Is that it?
This sparks a new round of accosting from the mob, who, perhaps comforted by the SeeDs, now begin to close in on her.
a girl's voice came to her through the din. Turning, she sees her daughter, standing in the hall, Moomba doll still clutched in her arms.
Darren has turned as well. Ria, go back to — aah! He is cut off as the SeeD with the Junction Machine jumps forward, attempting to disarm him. Spinning swiftly, he delivers a blow that sends the man stumbling off-balance and trying to back away.
With a flash of motion, the first SeeD retaliates, grabbing Darren's staff with both hands and kneeing him in the stomach before he can react. Taking advantage of his momentary dizziness, the man drives the staff back into Darren's face, sending him stumbling backwards. The other SeeD, now recovered, now drives his fist into the side of Darren's head, knocking him to the ground.
Like a pack of sharks smelling blood, the crowd surges forward, rushing onto Darren's fallen form with an inhuman roar. Suddenly, they are all over him, pounding with farming tools, rocks, their bare hands...it is out of some twisted mercy that the swarm of bodies obscures what the assault is doing to her husband's body.
She is frozen by the scene, just as she was thirty-four years ago when she witnessed the death of her mother. That battle flashes through her mind now, but the only image that remains for more than a fleeting second is that of the strangers in white uniforms.
SeeD.
Now here again.
a stray member of the crowd thrusts a glowing stone at her, face twisted with anger. DIE, SORCERESS! he screams.
It is reflex that causes Sarina to duck out of the way. Or perhaps her knees simply give out, and she falls to the ground. Even so, the action at once saves her, and destroys her.
The stone flashes. Behind her, there is a scream. Twisting around, she watches with horror as a black cloud forms around her daughter. In a sort of slow motion, so that every detail is accentuated, the cloaked apparition materializes just long enough to cut the sickle across the nine-year-old girl's chest. With an aborted yelp, she collapses to the floor of the hall.
Sarina screams, rushing over to her daughter's fallen form. Eyes burning, she gathers the girl up in her shaking hands and clutches her tightly to herself, as if this action could bring her back to life. Not for you, she sobs, futilely blinking back tears. This wasn't supposed to happen...not to you....
She sits there, holding her daughter's body, time seeming to stand still. Until her ears detect something. Or rather, that absence of sound that you notice whim a great din has come to an end. A sort of deathly calm has come over the people outside. As Sarina slowly lays down her daughter's body, forcing her hands to be still, she notices that her tears are now gone. On the ground, she sees that the white feather which she always wears, has come loose from the bracelet, and fallen. In standing, she picks it up.
Why did you kome here? she demands of the people behind her, in clipped, harsh tones that emphasize her acquired Centra accent. What did you kome here for?
Slowly, she turns to the group, who are now standing once again. All eyes are on her.
We didn't want this to happen, said the SeeD. If you'd came peacefully —
Then you kould have killed me without any trouble, she finished. You kame here to kill. Why? Because I'm a threat? She steps forward. After thirty-four years as a Sorceress, never hurting anyone, now I am a threat you must destroy?
We — the SeeD began.
And you brought this mob with you, she continues, advancing further. Attacking like a swarm. Like lokusts. She eyes the crowd. Because my husband and nine-year old daughter were that. Much. Of a threat.
This is your fault, Sorceress! a voice calls, but this time there is no uproar. Even the SeeDs seem transfixed by her change in attitude.
My fault? You kill my family and it's my fault? She raises an eyebrow. Does that mean, if I kill you, it will by your fault?
A tendril of magic is winding its way up from her feet, growing with each step she takes. She is in the doorway now, and the crowd is actually recoiling from her. Even the SeeDs.
Were you planning to burn me with those torches? she asks, stepping past the threshold. The tendril of magic is now wrapping around her arm. She raises her hand. All this, because I was a threat? The power is coalescing around her hand. Well, I don't want to disappoint you.
A wall of flame erupts from her hand, enveloping SeeDs and crowd alike in a swirling maelstrom. Their screams mingle together with the roar of the flames, as they writhe in the unnatural heat.
Allow me... she continues.
The flames have now caught a nearby tree on fire. The people caught in the vortex are beginning to collapse. One of the SeeDs is trying to make his way towards her.
To show you...
Not completely gone, that tendril of magic is now coursing between her two hands, both clenched into fists, becoming a blinding white glow.
Just —
She releases a bolt of pure magic, one powerful enough to light the land like day for a split second. Then, it is over. Every single person, other than her, is collapsed on the ground, bodies burned beyond recognition. The ground itself is scorched and blackened, illuminated by a raging fire in the nearby tree. Nothing moves, save the shadows dancing in the fire.
Stepping up to the body of the second SeeD, she removes the Junction Machine from his remains. It is scorched badly, and the shoulder strap is gone, but nonetheless its control panel is still lit.
How much of a threat, I kan be, she finishes.
- - = = = = - -
A spark of lightning runs through the black cloud, as it twists and contortes in ways nature never intended to be possible. Tendrils solidify into talons, fastened to the cliff face by heavy chains, as battlements and towers reach up toward the sky. A massive castle is now silhouetted against the moon, swathed in dark storm clouds.
She smiles. This was the place where it would happen. The Junction Machine, combined with the power of the spirit of this castle, would send her consciousness far enough into the past for her to finally obliterate all traces of this life, this world. Finally, she would be free of her past, those shadows would be gone. And this world, that had caused so much suffering, it would be gone. All the pain would be gone.
No, a part of her argues. She could obliterate everything else, but what mattered was nothing but her own memory. She would always remember, no matter what. And that would always be with her.
Nonetheless, she stepped forward. The chains supported her weight, and she walked, a little dazedly, towards the massive wooden doors at the top of the castle's stone staircase. Almost time. Soon it would be over.
And then she stood before the door. Here it was.
Where are you? she asked. Show yourself!
Why have you come here?
The voice cut straight into her mind, at once deafening and completely soundless. The words had no source, and did not register on her ears at all; nonetheless, they were completely clear.
I seek your power, she replied. You are Griever? The ultimate GF?
I am.
The powers of this place...I need them.
Then you are Ultimecia. The last Sorceress.
This halts her for a moment. The last....
Your powers will not be passed on in this time. All the others are gone. You are the last. Do you wish to enter this place?
She opens her mouth to reply, but something catches. Memories. Her mother, holding her close as they watched the terminal in Esthar. Her time with Darren on Selene. Watching her daughter grow up in Centra.
Watching her mother killed by the SeeDs. Being forced from Selene. Watching her daughter cut down as a mob beat Darren to death.
Being caught in a burning house, before her second birthday, surrounded by a mob of angry townspeople.
...I want to end it, she says.
Very well.
An eerie light emerges from within the castle, as the massive doors begin to slide open with a low, pronounced groan. Then, a white ball of energy bursts out, ramming into her chest and filling her body with —
Squall's eyes flew open, and he sat bolt upright. The scar across his nose was aching, and he had a splitting headache. Even so, he barely noticed.
Ellone was sitting on the other side of the couch, watching him with a concerned look on her face. Are you all right, Squall? she asked.
It was all there, a story that wouldn't unfold for centuries. He had just lived more than five decades of someone else's life.
I can't...disappear yet.
He shook his head, managing a weak smile for a fraction of a second. I'm fine, Sis. Thanks.