by ~ bloodcraft - bloodcraft@hotmail.com
rating ~ nc 17
pair ~ zell + squall
pov ~ 2nd person
forward ~ Alternative Universe, medieval setting, magick, death, gore, sex, lust, love, yaoi, shounen ai, bishounen, nudity, non-con
summary ~ Prodigy, but of what? You can't answer, and your Gods don't know. Your troop of Ebony Knights massacred by a plagued Divine Garden, and you are what's left. Set free by the girl, you find yourself traveling along a path towards whatever your birth-right destiny is supposed to be. Befriended with a Dipper, guarded by a White Knight and hounded by an Archangel, your feet take you towards Fathom Heights and the Halls of Insanity.
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Chapter 1 ~~ First Cut
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(( ~ Zell ~ ))
You look through the scratchy window, out into the muggy landscape. The sky is a dark blue, glowing only because of the fires ravaging the Black Forest on the other side of the Bone Mountain Range. Skull Mountain stretches high, pitch storm clouds ringing the top, hiding the peak from mortal view.
Closer, you can see the men standing outside, fighting the winds while attempting to calm demon-houses into the barn to the left of the shack you've found yourself in. Paces beyond the fellow soldiers, you see the prisoners. The men that have been stripped of nearly all clothing, nailed into V-shaped poles, their arms above their heads. Blood pouring from the wounds of their wrists, trailing crimson lines down their dirt lined arms.
Wind raping the lands whip heavily against the near nude men. You feel sorry for those men. They were peasants, and their crime had been to fight you. All they wanted was to save their desolate farm lands. The lands that barely produced enough food to keep their families from starving. But you took it from them, ripped it from them.
A blanket of darkness follows you as you travel. And it has followed you here.
So whatever defiance that had been in the old farmers has already been seeped away.
You should be unconcerned with it, it always happens. You are part of a plague of knights, raping life of its will. Young as you are, you're heart is black as coal. You still have yours, unlike the older generals in back of you in the room, but you are the Prodigy Child of the Ebony Knights. Even though you have your heart, it is made of death. And so you should be unconcerned with dying life.
So happens, you feel sorry for the farmers you see hanging out there. They'd screamed as the nails were hammered slowly into their wrists. They'd cried when you and your fellow soldiers told them that they would never see their families again. They'd screamed with tears for Hyne to save them as thick Dwarf-hammers reduced the bones in their legs to pebbles.
Manner of speaking, it shouldn't surprise you that you're unable to hold back sympathy. You are human, after all. Or were at one point in your life. That moment you were born, breathing your chest full of air, you were human. Then you were taken from your mother's grasping hands, and the air was sucked from your body.
You'd been drained of life. Filled with the smoggy thick mist that now stains your blood black. And so, you died and were born again. The only sign of humanity are your sapphire eyes as they sparkle out through your black-metal helmet.
Your eyes moved from the barren landscape; a duplicate scene you've witness decay from ugly life into beautiful death almost every moment of your existence, as you are the bringer of death. Rich lands of fertile soil, lush grass, and playing children are but the distance into which you ride. The chaos of evil is the cloud of dust that follows your horse's footsteps.
The men, dressed as you in the black-metal armor of death, surround the wooden table. Its makings are as sturdy as the decaying shack you stand in, both threatening to collapse if pushed to hard.
Wind rattles the lose glass of the window in back of you. The window of which is slightly hazy from water damage, but is the only clear enough glass pane for you to peer through into the dying of the world outside.
For an instance, you think perhaps the decayed wooden shack is about to crumble, but it doesn't, it stays up. As rotted as the wood is that makes up the shack, and as rusted as the nails are that hold the building together, it still fights against the raging storm that has just begun to brew.
You find a small smile on the side of your mouth, as you see the dual irony of the shack. It is like the peasants you've stapled into the V-shape stakes outside. Like all the farmers, soldiers, humans. Those mortals whose blood has dirtied your blade and meant nothing to you. As crumbling as they are, they still fight against the chaos you've helped swallow over half the world.
The smile fades and is gone, your sapphire eyes' sparkles die out with the look of the High General.
You won't back down, not in your nature. But you're not fool hearted enough to challenge a man of his stature. As a powerful man, he found himself befriended with one of the Dark Council. Though he dares never to utter the word friend while even thinking about his acquaintance, none of the soldiers will challenge the High General.
You've heard of the Dark Council. The group of eight Mages that drove themselves into insanity when they read the Book of Purity. Dare you believe you're worthy of laying those sapphire eyes upon the Mages, the gall of such a thought is likely to call Their attention. One mumble from their lips and your head will rip itself apart.
You're too young to allow yourself to stupidly be made into a husk. You're the Prodigy Child, the Dark Soldier that all the older Ebony Knights loath but won't say so. They'll think it, even sneer at you. But then again, you don't have the power to dismantle their souls with a single breath of black-air. Perhaps one day you'll know exactly what you're destiny is, but not today. And since you don't have the power, they are allowed to think all they want of you.
This includes the High General. Even the Prodigy you are, you haven't the right to challenge him.
Makes you wonder what good it is to be a Prodigy. At least you aren't outside in the cold, closer to those dying farmers, being rained black acid upon, and attempting to calm the demon-horses.
Those demon-horses are slightly edgy tonight. You and your platoon had traveled towards the inner power of the Living race. But you didn't think you were close enough for the demon-horses to be scared by the life-energy. Perhaps you're heading towards a Glittera Troop: White Knights riding their white stallions, holding their silver blades up, chanting their holy spells while watching you die. Maybe you're close to a Divine Garden! The home of the powerful warriors of Light who dare learn of the Insane Arts.
The Dark Council controls the Insane Arts, the magick of divine Chaos. They've read the Book of Purity, and learned how to control life, but have been gifted (or some say cursed) with the desire to destroy the life they can control.
The Divine Garden are Light Warriors who've chosen to dip into the magick of life. Dare they dip too deep, they'd be driven insane and become dangerous to the life around them. Though you Ebony Knights would kill a Dipper (as you learned the joked name in your squire classes of pre-pubescence) if you came across one.
A Dipper is harmless to Ebony Knights, as you are protected by the insanity a Dipper is cursed with. But they are an annoyance, not to mention uncontrollable. Better to kill one, or perhaps leash it and keep it as a pet. Dippers make good Snarls, since those dog-hybrids are insane, dirty, maggot infested, and ugly. Dippers and Snarls are so much alike, only Dippers have a human face.
Wind cries out and pushes through the loosening boards of the shack. You can't feel the softer wind, the thick black-metal armor of your body deferring the cold caress, but you still hear the howling call.
"They send word," the High General says in an empty tone. His grey eyes, which were drained of their color years ago, watch you, waiting for reply.
"Continue West?" you question, standing sternly in your armor. A hand holds the leather-wrapped handle of the sheathed sword at your side, your other hand hanging lifeless at the opposite side.
"Towards Star City," he confirms in his empty tone.
And with those words, you've been ordered outside into the black acid rain, it being your job to tell the soldiers you're moving on.
Your fist presses to your chest, the salute of your people. About-face and you head to the rattling door to proceed with the command.
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The demon-horses had been right to run away. Kicking their back heels up into the chests of the men who'd tried desperately to hold onto the reins as they'd been bucked free. The horses had been all too correct in their fear.
That was one of those moments when you'd realize perhaps animal instinct should be more trusted.
Your thoughts of two weeks ago, about the Divine Garden being close, it had been right. You and your platoon had walked up to one. Problem was, it was a corrupted site, abandoned by the sane members months before.
You'd thought Dippers were nothing to the fist of an Ebony Warrior. Too bad you never thought about them like locus. A mob of insane ex-warriors of light, rushing upon you and your soldiers; the horses buckled and cried, kicked and ran. Your men had been tossed into the dirt, Dippers swarming up and biting. Ripped the metal armor off then bit into flesh.
You knew Dippers were like Snarls. Normally a good kick to a Dipper's face and they whimpered while running away.
Only Hyne above knows how the Divine Garden had so many of its children fall into the well of insanity, but the flood of Dippers never stopped rushing.
Now you've been stripped of your armor, the pale muscular flesh of your body vulnerable for the Dippers to sink their rotting teeth in. Yet your skin is only dirtied, not wounded. Not even bruises upon that silky flesh of your young body.
The Ebony Knights of your platoon had scattered. Some ran. Most fought. Many found themselves being cannibalized by the Dippers. You hoped the High General and those men escaped, though you have no sympathy if they didn't. They are the leaders and men you look up to, as they are powerful Ebony Knights. Of course you hope they rid their heels of the Dippers. But if they didn't, they'd been weak and you have no thoughts worth wasting on them.
So here you are, arms above your head. A tight but comfortable knock holding your wrists together. You are nude, no sign of light anywhere in the underground cavern these Dippers have dragged you in.
You wonder if they're saving you for a later meal. Perhaps they were too full to eat you. Or maybe in their insanity, they still have the ability to desire torture. They might be planning on shoving red-hot swords into your body, into the virgin crevasse between your legs. Cut our your tongue? Staple your eyes shut? Perhaps nail you to a V-shaped cross as you'd done to so many innocent so many times in the past.
Whatever the torture, you know you deserve it. Not that you desire it, but you can fathom the need for retribution of the Life against Death. Something has to weigh out.
So you wait, hanging where you cannot escape, vulnerable in your nudity, the sapphire eyes free of their mask, but still hindered from sight by darkness. No lights lit the caver around, so all was pitch black.
If you wanted, you could chant a spell to make dark as plain as light to your eyes. Three simple words and you could see all around. And nothing stops you from doing so, no morbid desires for not wanting to see what's coming, and not any fear of what might be watching you. Even though you are vulnerable, you find no reason to pursue sight. You can hear just fine.
The soft drumming in the distance is from Dippers who're deciding your fate right now. And so you wait for the moment when their footsteps skip happily towards you, whatever their intentions may be.
Doesn't take long before those skipping footsteps have started the friendly-sounding tapping. And the soft flickering of a flamed torch is the sign of your fate. As it grows, you simply wait for them to arrive.
Not that you won't fight, because you will. But you're not about to struggle right now and tighten the comfortable hold the ropes have on your wrists.
"Name?" the little girl says, her green eyes peering up at you though her starved husk of a body.
She is alone, a bony arm holding the light up enough for you to make our her hunched over figure and loose clothing. Seeing her oily hair, dirt-covered skin, and black nails, you have to believe she's been living as a Dipper for over a good month now. Perhaps longer.
"Zell," you reply to her question calmly. She poses no visible threat. And your answer to her question doesn't send any revelation into her body. Your name is as unmeaning to her as her name will be to you.
"Selphie," she says, though is indifferent about her name just as you were. Apparently this a brief introduction into something the girl is hoping to turn into a longer companionship. "Down?" she asks you.
You breathe the air now smoky from the flames, wondering if she actually plans on cutting you down or if this is some sick joke. Her green eyes are glowing brightly, the flames dancing over the soft glaze, and she looks honest in her intentions.
"Please," you say in a soft tone.
She smiles, showing browning teeth.
Clumsily she lays down the light, then stands straight to her short stature, moving to her tiptoes as she tries to reach up to the ropes above your head. You ignore her body pressed to your nude one. She is clothed, though you dislike the feeling of being naked against her. Virgin as you are, and dirty as she is, it repulses you to have a slightly intimate moment such as this.
Selphie steps back, frowning up at the rope. Her eyebrows raise as she shrugs.
"Too short," she tells you the problem. The wheels are turning in her mind, but they are rusty. She has some plan for you, which is why she doesn't call the others to help. The other Dippers don't know she's here with you, trying to help you down.
"Something to stand on?" you suggest to her. You know it would have taken her hours before she'd have thought of such an act. And her smile tells you so.
"Ah!" she says happily, turning and looking around for anything to increase her height.
As she looks around in what appears to be a futile search, your sapphire eyes raise to watch for lights in the distance. The only sign of the other Dippers is the soft drumming that you can still hear.
Selphie's delight-filled squeak gains your attention. Glancing down to her, you watch as she tries to push a fairly large rock towards the wall you are hung on like a framed picture.
Your coal heart is proud of her strength, as she is able to move the rock close enough to use it as a step stool. Then she is standing on the rock, her body pressed back to yours, hands now able to fumble with the rope.
You close your eyes, hoping silently that she remembers how to untie the rope. You haven't messed with it, for fear of it tightening. If she tightens it too much, she won't be able to release you.
Your feet hit dirt. Sapphire eyes open and your hands lower.
Selphie jumps down into the dirt next to you, smiling up proudly.
Pulling the rope off your wrists, you smile at her. "Good girl," you say.
That only widens her smile. She pats her own head, repeating your words excitedly. "Good girl!"
The rope falls into the dirt with a cloud of dust billowing up momentarily. You are free but still nude. And you're forced to adopted a Dipper. You might not have a leash, but it looks like this girl doesn't need one.
"I need clothes," you explain to Selphie.
A small smirk forms on her lips, and you can see she's straining not to look down to the thick manhood between your legs.
She fights against a giggle and tells you "Clothes you need, but mine won't fit you."
Be damned if you're about to start an argument with a Dipper. Insane as the girl is, she's right. And even if you explained she could steal the clothes from someone else, she'd probably get caught in the act. And be Hyne-damned if you're about to rescue her in the nude.
Your hand rubs your left cheek, pressing heavily against the tattoo you were blessed with the day black-air filled your lungs. The tattoo had formed naturally, the symbol of a destiny no one is for-sure about. But you are the Prodigy, destined to do something grand. The tattoo that all can see plainly, is a symbol to any Ebony Knight that look upon your face, they know by the tattoo that you're you -- and the Dark Council had blessed you.
People of Light wouldn't know what the tattoo symbolizes, but any person of Darkness would. You are the Quezacotl, the dark power of whose destiny is still uncertain.
Dropping your arm and raising your eyes, you see that the Selphie girl hasn't been able to keep her gaze away from your nudity. Sneering, you're barely able to force yourself from grabbing her arm.
She looks up to you, a deep crimson on her face. "Do so apologize, Sire. Never seen a naked boy before." She's fighting against both a smirk and a look of worry. The expressions contrast and confuse each other, making her look more befuddled than anything else.
She's taken a hold of your right hand, placing it on her head. She again repeats an apology.
"So sorry, Sire!"
You leave your hand on her oily hair for a while longer, allowing her to feel forgiven. Then you take your hand back, earning the scrapping of her nails on your flesh, then the release from her grasp.
"What of my armor?" you ask her. The black-metal had been your clothing before, surely that was somewhere around. Or perhaps the black-metal of another Ebony Knight's armor. There were dead bodies scattered over the surface.
She bites on her thumb nail, her browning teeth scraping the dirt from under the nail, and she's trying to think of a way to help you.
You wait, silently, not about to pressure the girl. You'd confuse her, and that's something you don't want to do. Calm and collective, otherwise she might even forget she's the one that release you. You don't want her to run away screaming to the other Dippers that you've somehow managed to free yourself.
The nail moves from her mouth and her arm drops to her side. "Come!" she says happily.
Picking up the torch, she walks in an odd skip-waddle, continuing down the blackened cavern, you with no choice but to follow.
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Her browning teeth are visible as she smiles a wide grin at you.
In all honestly, you give the girl credit. The Dipper seems to have a few wires in her brain still attached.
Within another area of the caver, it seems the girl has brought you into a treasure hold. All the most precious relics, that were most likely in the Divine Garden museum before, have been moved into a large cave. Pilled up are mounds of gold Gil coins, silver coins, platinum. Ruby rings, diamond necklaces. Swords of silver with diamond edging, along with leather and jewel studded hilts were scattered among the rubble.
Diamond armor. White metal of the White Knights scattered around. Chains of melted Mythril that had been forged by the Dwarves of Tonberry Wasteland piled together. Arm cuffs, wrist cuffs. Boots of the unbreakable Silk-Leather, the material produced by the Sparkle Spiders of northern Trabia in the realm of Light.
More and more Silk-Leather clothing, and more armor of the Light people piled.
Jewelry and weapons that had been blessed with light energy were everywhere in sight.
And so you dressed. Finding yourself oddly, an Ebony Knight -- a warrior of darkness -- fitting beautifully within Light armor. Silk-Leather wrapped tight around your body. Chained Mythril and diamond armor plated over. Two light-energy blessed short swords at your hips.
You crack your silk-leather covered knuckles, trying to calm into something close to comfort wearing your new cladding.
Turning, you see Selphie's smiling brightly at you. She looks almost proud of you in the White Armor.
"You could pass for White Knight!" she tells you excitedly.
You give no sign of caring, though inwards you feel sick. You're not proud of looking like a White Knight, and why would you? You're a demon-incarnate, the Prodigy Child of Darkness. Looking like your enemy doesn't sit well with your coal heart.
Thinking of your heart, you only feel sicker. The older an Ebony Knight, the less of a heart he has. And, as the High General, when old enough you no longer have a heart. From the moment that black-air filled your lungs to bring you into the realm of darkness, your heart is supposed to start dying. Yours never has.
It is just as big, and beats just as much as the day you were born and killed and reborn. You've never mentioned this to anyone. And those laying their dead-eyes upon you would never guess you have a heart in you. You hide your heart, hide the fact that it aches sometimes when you see innocent hurt.
You don't think about it too much: the coal heart made of death inside your chest. You feel it has to do with your curse, the fact that you are the Prodigy. But that doesn't mean you'll tell any of your fellow Ebony Knights that you've a beating heart.
And now, not only do you have a live blackened heart in your chest, you've found yourself in a White Knight costume. Beautiful.
"Zell?!" Selphie says with an excited bounce.
You've turned away, picking up some of the scatted Gil. You do need money during your travels. But hearing Selphie's voice, you turn back.
Standing tall, which is just to your short 5'5" height, you wait.
"Help me?" she says. That goofy grin that seems to plague her face has disappeared.
"With what?" you ask. Yes, there had been a catch to her letting you go, and you should have realized that.
Selphie steps forward, awkwardly trying to stand as upright as possible. She hooks her oily hair behind her ears, her forest-green eyes burning innocently up at you. She's trying to appear non-dipped.
Sympathy from your live heart aches suddenly.
"Doctor?" she says, her face cringing in hope.
One of the swords rip from a sheath. You hold it up, glaring at her. Why should you help her? No reason. And if you hadn't a heart, you would have killed her the moment you could've gotten your hands around her throat. But you let her live. And now she was asking for your help. Be damned if you're about to give it to her.
"Please?" she asks, ignoring the sword.
She's still insane. And you've got to realize that she doesn't care about the blade, or how intimidating you appear. You could slice the sword into her chest and she would still be asking for your help. Some things don't click with the Dippers.
The sword lowers, the inside of your mind still fighting about what you should do.
You should head back to Demon Barracks. Report that your platoon was over run. See if you can't find the High General and report everything to him about this cavern.
But then again, you have no real loyalties to those men. And the girl did let you go.
Will you go back to nailing men up on V-shaped crosses, watching them being drained of life? Will you go back to the orders of the men, the snarls about how you're the Prodigy and nothing has come of it?
Your heart takes another beat and sympathy has won over.
You sheath the sword and sigh. "I'll take you to a doctor," you say to her.
Brown teeth are shown as she smiles brightly at you.
"I can smell it," she tells you almost proudly.
You turn back to gathering Gil and jewels, mumbling in a disgruntled voice "Smell what?"
"The heart," she explains.
Turning back quickly to look at her, your heart skips a beat and your sapphire eyes widen. "Huh?"
"It's why I let you down!" she tells you, still smiling. "Knew you'd help."
You figure this is about enough of this. No more conversation on that fucking heart in your chest. Gil-filled bags in the folds of your armor, you're ready to leave this black place.
"Alright," you say back, heading towards the entry of the cave.
Selphie skips behind you, following you slowly. You then listen as her feet stop, they shuffle and fad then reappear back behind you in the skipping pace. It takes no more than a second.
You turn around to frown at her, but then you see the Silk-Leather cloak around her body.
Seeing you looking at her, Selphie smiles. You can't help the small smile back before you've turned forward again, walking back along the dirt path -- in a direction you haven't a clue where goes.
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Damn fucking Dipper.
Red blood is splattered over the walls, dripping down and filling pools of crimson over the wooden floor of the tavern.
The diamond-edged swords in your hands now have been stained in the Living's blood. Bodies lay unmoving over the floor, tables and chairs knocked over and splintered.
You lower your weapons, turning to search with your eyes for where Selphie's hidden.
"Zell?" her soft voice comes and she looks up from behind a few broken chairs.
You feel relief. The girl is alright. Not that you hold back the glare.
If she'd just stayed outside like you told her, those men wouldn't have started screaming on about a Dipper finding its way into town. Then the soldiers wouldn't have come in, and you wouldn't have had to kill. Soon the entire town would be screaming about how you, a White Knight, killed your fellow soldiers to protect a Dipper.
"Curse the Divine Mother!" you spat, sheathing your blades. "What did I tell you?!"
"Whoops!" she says, eyes wide as she stands tall. Though she doesn't look sorry, nor afraid. Just pretend astonishment at whatever she thinks she's supposed to be astonished about.
A smile cracks your lips and you laugh softly while shaking your head.
You've grown to find camaraderie with the young girl. She is your friend after three weeks of heading towards Fathom Heights -- the institute Selphie wants to go to. There's a doctor there that she believes can help her with her insanity, help her find her way out of the Lost Fields. It took nearly the three weeks of travel to get that out of her.
You had followed her where she was heading, not really caring about the direction, even if the girl was lost. You could go home, but to what home? To the Dark Council to follow whatever dark-order they had for you to follow. Not that you were about to fight against them, because you weren't. You just held no interest in their war anymore, and no interest in whatever it was you were supposed to be doing for them.
Then when Selphie explained to you that you were going to Fathom Heights, you understood that she knew where she was going. Except the idea of why she wanted to see a doctor from the place escaped you. Fathom Heights dealt with genetic coding, manipulations, magick of the body and mind, the control of each new generation of people of Life. White Knights go there for injections to help them in Holy magick, and Light Warriors go there to help in stabilizing their bodies. Other such things.
So, after asking numerous times, Selphie mentioned the Department of Lost Experiments. Apparently the people of Light do fail in their genetic workings, and when they do, their experiments go to Fathom Heights to be either watched over or killed. Except, all the experiments were animals, Selphie made the point of saying. Only humans got genetic manipulation once enough knowledge was known on the subject.
So Selphie wanted to go visit a doctor who worked for the Department of Lost Experiments. One certain doctor who worked with the problems of the psyche, the mind. He'd fixed quite a few animals and sub-humans (species like the Andora Fungs -- the ability to speak, hunched over bodies, walking with their knuckles in the ground, pointed ears, thick arms and small bodies, and slight ability to reason. A few steps lower on the evolutionary chain.)
And so you're helping her find the doctor, to try to help her find her sanity.
"Good Sir?" a stern female voice cracks through the room like lightning.
You turn, swords pulled from their sheaths, ready.
There you see a blonde woman, taller than you, blue eyes icy and her lips pressed tightly together. The blonde hair comes up in the back in slight feathery spikes, though looking less-firm than your spiked bangs.
She has a large white-whip at her side, diamond armor clothing her body. She looks like Phantom Class of the White Knights.
White make-up on her face highlights her already icy expression. Lines drawn in white-paint around her eyes help to add to the sneering glare she's giving you, a challenging expression.
"What?" you say. Stupid reply, but you're having a little difficulty thinking about how to maybe avoid the obviously encroaching duel.
Her stern glare falters when she sees the Dipper behind you. Then the whip at her side lowers, her blue eyes studying your face.
A few more soldiers begin to enter behind the blonde woman, though she's still reading your face. The men have their swords ready, but the woman doesn't look like she's going to attack.
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You stare at Quistis, that Phantom Class White Knight woman. It's funny, cause you'd think the biggest surprise would be that she'd attacked her own people to protect you, the fact that she'd killed them for you.
But her words of right now surprised you the most. She knows who you are and of the Prophecy the surrounds you. She's a White Knight. She shouldn't have a clue about the Dark Legends, but she's fully versed.
"Others know what you know?" you ask her, frowning. You need to discover how much the Light people know about the Darkness, since the prophecy was suppose to be secret.
Quistis shakes her head slowly at you. "It's complicated why I know what I know. All I can tell you is that my brother is looking for you."
"Yeah," you reply, frowning. "Seifer Almasy... You told me. So what's it to him who I am?"
"Zell!" Selphie's bright voice muses from behind you.
You turn to see her skip-jump up the dirt floor of the cave, towards you and the camp that Quistis help you build.
"Hi!" Selphie says, seeing you looking at her. She stopped walking, waves her hand at you excitedly, then starts forward again to plop down next to you.
"What is it, Selphie?" you ask her softly.
She shrugs, blank expression on her face.
Holding back a growl, you turn back to the other woman you've found yourself in the company of.
"Okay," you mumble, shaking your head. "So... Seifer?"
"He's been searching for you for a while," Quistis explains. "We need to get you to a safe place. You're being hunted."
You stare blankly, waiting for something more.
Quistis shifts on the log she was seated on. "There's far more going on in the world than you realize, Zell."
You nod, uninterested in her words. You glance next to you at Selphie, who's totally fascinated with a thread that's come loose from her skirt. You smirk as she fumbles with it, futilely attempting to push the thread back into the fabric.
"The Dark Council is falling apart," Quistis states. "And the High Lords of Prism aren't doing much better."
Turning up, you sneer. "The Dark Army has devastated over half the world. We've swarmed Gaia like locus. And you're saying ... we're loosing?"
Quistis pushes the wrinkles from her white leather coat. "Not loosing. The Dark Council is dying."
"They're more powerful than anything else to have been born from Gaia," you state plainly.
"There is a new power emerging," Quistis says. "It's this power that you're Prophesized to destroy. This power, named Hantaisha by my associates, is what's destroying the world."
You're unconvinced and uninterested. The Dark Council knows everything. You were born for a reason, but this Hantaisha bullshit doesn't convince you of anything. Although the Phantom Class White Knight covered in the blood of her brothers is all too intriguing to you, so you play the role Quistis desires of you.
"Alright," you answer. "So I destroy Hantaisha and everything goes back to the Darkness destroying the Light?"
A twitch of anger twitches on Quistis face, which forces you to hold back a smile.
"Zell!" Selphie says, her hand tugging on the Silk-Leather of your shirt.
You turn to the girl, her green eyes large.
"We need to get going!" Selphie tells you eagerly.
After nodding to Selphie, you look to Quistis.
"We're going," you say, standing.
Quistis opens her mouth to protest, but you stand and hold your hand up.
"We're going," you repeat. "You want to protect me or some bullshit, fine -- you're free to come with us. Send letter to your brother, though I don't like the idea of traveling with so many Children of Light. It's bad enough I'm helping a Dipper. And now some psychotic White Knight is telling me fables. Last thing I really want is some other White Knight here to scare the shit out of me."
Quistis takes a moment of silence to think. Then stands and says "I'll go with you. Send letter back to my brother. But he isn't a White Knight."
"Whatever, don't matter to me," you reply.
You turn away, listening to the sounds of Quistis sifting in back of you. Starting your paces down the dirt path, Selphie bounces up to your side, looking excited.
"He's an Archangel," Quistis calls up to you.
That stops you. White Knights are one thing. Light Warriors and Dippers are another. But did Quistis just say that Seifer was an Archangel?
"Raven Class," she finishes.
Turning around you see her standing two feet behind you, hand resting on her hip.
"No way in hell," you tell her.
Archangels were the most powerful of Light beings. Trained from birth, injected with so much light magick their blood was white. Large men always, with enough power to destroy an army of Ebony Knights. Archangels were few, due to the extensive process of building one. And you've only heard of one other Raven Class your entire life. And that man lived two hundred years ago; no one in recent times.
"He broke off from the High Lords of Prism years ago," Quistis explains to the look on your face. "At 13 when he was released from the genetic manipulations he set out to follow a vision one of his friends had. And today, the underground following called Fog is his Testimonial."
"Zell?" Selphie's soft voice calls your attention.
With a glance over, you decide to deal with the Archangel when and if he shows up.
Back to Quistis, you speak. "Fine." Turning back to leave the cavern, Selphie begins to skip ahead. Quistis steps up next to you, keeping silent.