Final Fantasy is copyright Squaresoft.

Martin shifted in his seat, frowning intently at the wall in front of him. The wimpy little half-brother he was saddled with sat very quietly, very patiently. That may have been the most annoying part about him, aside from his eyes. His yellow eyes were glowing faintly, as faint as the glow within that little crystal of his. At least Martin's own was glowing stronger than his half-brother's, that gave him some comfort.BR

But why did their mother have to die? Martin wanted nothing more than to continue his mastery of the schoolyard, but here he and Spencer were, on a boat bound for someplace called Cornelia. Apparently that was their main export. Corn. Martin leaned back against the bench. Oh gods, how bored he would be there.

Pravoca was a wonderful, educated place. There was a school, which he and Martin attended, although they were thankfully in different classes. His half-brother was always kind of a brute, living with their mother, while Spencer himself had to deal with his abusive father. Attempts to calm him down did nothing but continue to enrage the beast, who was as unhappy with his son as a bird with rotten eggs, although much more wrathful. He shouted at Spencer to try to become a guard, but it did no good. Spencer was never very good with physical subjects, preferring literature and geography.BR

He was beaten daily for his incompetence and lack of interest in his father's line of work. Spencer would have given anything to live with his mother, a mage of the black arts. And his father would have been happy with Martin. At least Martin could stand his punches. But ever since she divorced Spencer's father, she was very distant with her second son, very unaccommodating.BR

Her first husband, Martin's father, died on guard duty, but apparently with honor. Spencer had difficulty thinking of any man like that as having honor, just as he had problems thinking of himself being related to the man that killed his ex-wife in a drunken rage. Not that it surprised him, of course.BR

Now, as they were being sent off to Cornelia to live with their Uncle Davis, Martin was disgusted with his younger half-brother for being so cold-hearted and callous. The truth was, Spencer could think of nothing better for the two of them. Martin was loyal, as young warriors often are, and disagreed with Spencer's assessment of the situation with a hard punch in the arm. Away from their mother's verbal abuse and his father's physical abuse, they could turn their attentions to the crystals that hung around their necks and the dreams Spencer knew they shared.BR

The ten-year-old Martin was brave and dashing and all the wonderful things people like to hear about in themselves. He was also a conceited little brat and Spencer didn't feel that anything short of a death threat would change that. He had coppery red hair, blue eyes that changed tint with the weather, and a healthy complexion.BR

Spencer, on the other hand, could never have been more different. His eyes glowed a faint yellow; his hair was stringy and black. He was quite pale, not just from the tossing of the boat, and was bone-thin. He had to admit, not at all "adorable" or "cute". He fidgeted with the crystal that hung around his neck on a silver chain, admiring how it never seemed cold to his touch.

The procurement of the crystals was a funny thing really. Spencer had been ducking and dodging his half-brother earlier in the year when he ran down into the basement. This was possibly one of the worst ideas he had ever spawned, for there was no exit but the one Martin was now coming down. Spencer breathed heavily, unable to catch his breath, and ducked behind a stack of supply boxes. On the far wall he spotted a door he hadn't seen before, and sprinted for it. Martin caught his movement out of the corner of his eye and ran after him, although he was much slower. Spencer threw open the door, slammed it shut and started running down the spiral dirt stairs.BR

Martin threw the door open just moments after Spencer had hidden behind a chair carved out of stone. He looked around with incredulity at his surroundings, and suddenly Spencer noticed the peculiarity of the room as well.BR

It was a large cavern with sculpted dirt walls and a dusty dirt floor. There was an assortment of odd furniture lying about as though this place had been sacked long ago. The staircase descended directly in the middle of the room, twisting unnaturally. Martin carefully walked down the stairs, admiring the ceiling. It seemed like they were underneath the school's playground now. A tree's roots sprawled across the ceiling like an unruly spider's web, the matted grass still allowed some of the evening sun through to lit the otherwise unlit room.BR

Well, not really. Two fragments of light that looked as though it was reflected off a mirror shone brightly where the stairs ended. Martin walked up to these things and closed his hand around one. It glowed red and white through his hand, brighter than the sun had ever been and then died down into a faint glow, a dying firefly in his hand on a silver chain. Martin was mesmerized.BR

Spencer crept out from behind the toppled chair to examine the other object. It was a crystal roughly the size of his fist but narrower. There was no chain on it, but it hung suspended in mid-air and rotated slowly, the light from within it occasionally glinting outwards. When it did, another light would flash within the crystal, forming images. One was a figure in dark robes crouching and moving his fingers oddly. His eyes glowed an intense yellow as the black wizards did, but his face was shrouded by a wide-brimmed hat. Another, a red-haired woman in white shouting against a great wind. Another, a young man in brown short and a blue shirt laughing and clutching a money pouch. Another, a man with copper hair in red armor that looked suspiciously like Martin. Spencer glanced up at his taller half-brother at the same moment Martin glanced down at him.BR

"Truce?" He said, offering Spencer a hand up.BR

"Truce." The smaller boy replied, accepting Martin's assistance.

Since then, Martin had been a bit friendlier, certainly not striking out without reason, although he did chide Spencer's fondness of taking out his crystal and holding it. Spencer had always seen himself as a voice of reason, but Martin was slowly becoming more reasonable at least in theory.BR

Now he was regressing to the time before they found the crystals out of habit and frustration at their situation. Spencer could only assume it was because of their mother's death, but had an inkling that he might be off somewhat.

Martin lay in bed awake, clutching the crystal in his hand. It ebbed and pulsed with his heartbeat, but he couldn't get any more images out of the thing. He had shaken it, tossed it against a wall, yelled at it, and done everything else he could think of to get another vision out of the thing. He was exhausted, and as he drifted off to sleep, he dreamt for the first time since finding the crystal.

A girl with deep red hair somewhat younger than he was sitting on a swing, looking thoughtful. Her long hair was braided, and her poor clothing and dirty feet marked her as an urchin. She seemed wistful as she swung back and forth lazily in the summer sun. The swing hung from a branch of a large apple tree, and tall grass and vines surrounded her. A branch of the tree rustled and an apple fell and bounced off her head. She cried out, but he could not hear her, nor anything but the gentle blowing of the wind through the trees.BR

A head poked out from the branches, an apple in his mouth. It was a boy of eight or so with tousled light brown hair. The girl laughed and swung harder, saying something to the boy. He looked disgruntled and retreated into the tree branches, only to emerge a moment later, climbing down the trunk of the old apple tree. The boy was shirtless, wearing only a pair of brown shorts and a crystal on a chain. His ears were long and pointed, and his eyes were a translucent green. He was carrying several apples, and several more protruded from his pockets. There was still one in his mouth.BR

The girl's blue eyes were deeper than his could ever be, and when she laughed and smiled she seemed richer than any princess. She shrugged to the boy who was apparently talking, nearly slipping out of her worn dress (which, he noticed, was a man's shirt with the sleeves ripped off). She pulled the dress around her again and giggled as the boy did a handstand with the apple still in his mouth. The fruit began to fall from the boy's pockets, hitting him around the head and on his hands. He toppled over and winced as his head hit the ground, but the girl ran up and checked his head and back for any serious injuries. As she did so, a silver chain slipped down and out of her dress, carrying a crystal along with it. Hers shone purely white and it radiated more light when she smiled.