It was, of course, just a dream.



It was an odd dream, a dream of darkness, and of light. It was hard to distinguish one from the other, since the once stark line separating them was now blurry and indistinct. Light was mixing with the dark, and a myriad of shades were appearing at each passing second and disappearing just as abruptly, like colourful afterimages caught by the eye after an explosion. It was beautiful, much more beautiful than just the sheer darkness or pure light alone, though it was striking a strange sense of terror into the soul.

For now that the line is gone, who will be the one to redefine it?



"How can you be sure that we're doing the right thing?"
"How can you be sure that we're not?"



And why, indeed, is that even necessary?





At the same time, it was a dream about falling, forever. Forever in an empty abyss, devoid of any emotion, any thought. But there is no such thing as forever, because everything ends at a point. Death makes its claim, and the stars explode . . .
. . . and a newborn inhales his first breath, and distant galaxies burst forth.

So, maybe, in this dream, this existence, eternity is something real, after all.



"It's all about balance, dear brother. You destroyed an evil, now another has to take its place.
And it is the nature of ascension that the one to rise now must be more powerful than the one who has fallen before . . . ."



So why try breaking an endless cycle that will inevitably go on?





It was about the present, but it was also a dream of the past, and of the future. A dream where it was possible to see flashes of what was yet to come, foggy pieces ahead of time that could not clearly be deciphered or read. A dream with images that wavered and changed with each step taken, that were distorted and twisted with every blink of the eye.

They were nothing more than snapshots of the past, clear and defined, showing the paths chosen before. Yet, at the same time, there is a dizzying glimpse of lives never lived. Lives that might have been lived, lies that might have been told, secrets that had might have been shared, had different choices been made at the various crossroads of a well-trodden trail.



"You're supposed to deny him victory in the end."
"Fate again?"
"No. Free will. You've already chosen to do that."



The paths of the future are infinite, and there are many roads that could be followed, but is the one to be taken a matter of choice . . . or destiny?





In this dream, it was a game, somehow, and games are about winning and losing. A deadly game, when life and death, victory and defeat, honour and disgrace all go hand in hand. Only one way or the other – there was no middle road. All play to win, of course, and it was all about planning the next move: to capture, to conquer, to evade, or to simply surrender. It was about strategy, about taking risks, of making decissions, and of bending and breaking the rules.

It was also about the sacrifices that are willing to be made.



"Thinking of your next move, are you?"
"No. You're losing."
"Ah. Then it's other things you're thinking about – like whether you should betray me today or tomorrow, I suppose?"



But just how many are willing to make the greatest sacrifice of all?





It was about friendship, and courage, and of course, loyalty. It was about knowing where you stand, when to honour and to serve. And when to stop honouring and serving. Because it was about life, and learning to let go.

Perhaps . . . it was even about love.


Most importantly, though, it is about what you believe.


"Do you believe in dreams?"
"I believe in
you."



***



Distant Skies
a Final Fantasy VIII fan fiction
by Yati




[ Disclaimer: All things FFVIII-related are not mine. You already know this drill. No copyright infringement intended. ]