"You did the right thing," Guardian said.
"Go to hell!"
"It was a necessary evil. Do not feel guilty for what you did. You weren't given much of a choice. Your survival ensures the survival of millions. Sacrifices have to be made," Guardian rationalized.
"You do not get to appoint the sacrificial lambs!" I retorted.
"Indeed!" she agreed with me. "Circumstances--"
"Don't give me that crap! For as long as I can help it, there is always a way around things."
Guardian was silent for a few seconds. "What do you mean?"
I grinned inwardly, staring at the monitor before me in the privacy of my own quarters. "You didn't think it was possible, did you? That those people could be saved!"
"I am confused. The reports said that you ordered everybody killed and the village burned down."
I scoffed at the exaggeration. "I ordered their deaths all right. It was one heck of a magic trick!"
"You mean... you somehow made Llurd and his men think that you killed all the people? How did you do it?"
I smiled in the dark and revealed to her the trick.
"Commendable!" was all she could say. It didn't matter. I didn't want her praise.
"You owe me," I said dourly.
"Indeed, I do," Guardian answered. "What secret do you wish to be revealed to you tonight?"
I paused to think. There were many secrets I would like revealed to me. I didn't know where to begin until tonight after the burning. One question stood out from the rest. I admitted to myself that it was not the most important question to ask. But I had to know.
"When did Cid infuse me with the Ice magic?" I asked.
"Infuse with Ice magic?" Guardian repeated in puzzlement. "Do you not get it yet, Celes? Hasn't the investigation of Branford's past taught you anything?"
"Straight answers, Guardian! I've earned this. Do not mar it with your riddles."
"Branford was able to use Fire magic without the need for infusion."
"I said straight answers. Damn it! When did Cid infuse me with the Ice magic?"
"The question does not apply. He never did."
The answer took me aback. "Then who?"
"Nobody."
"Then how was it possible?"
The monitor displayed another recording. It had no audio. It was in a large room with computers. General Cristophe was there. Cid, too, and his staff. On one side of the room, I saw Kefka. The three had their attention focused on the person on the operating table. The camera zoomed in showing my lifeless body on the table. The recording happened after my assassination.
Everybody's focus shifted to the computers all of a sudden. The power went out, but the camera kept on recording. The auxiliary power kicked in seconds later. Kefka and Leo were now having an argument. Things got violent. Kefka sent a bolt of lightning to the computers. The emergency sprinklers turned on. Water rained inside the room drenching everybody.
Sprinklers. It wasn't a dream.
Leo stepped aside, as did Cid. Kefka and his cult formed a circle with my lifeless body at the center. They started the chant.
"I don't see a rift," I thought out loud.
"Rift?" Guardian repeated questioningly. I ignored her.
The chanting continued. My body was enveloped with a bright energy. A cult member pulled the dagger out of my belly. The white light shifted to a warm yellow aura. My body twitched and jerked sporadically. Then it was over in a second.
I was alive again.
But the rift. Where is the doorway to the swirling realm?
The recording continued to play. A bright blue-white light filled the room. Static filled the monitor.
"Ice. I did that, didn't I?"
"Yes."
"So the cult infused me with the magic?"
"Negative."
"Why do you show me this?" I asked Guardian.
"Be patient. There is more."
I waited. The static cleared and the video feed was back online in a matter of seconds. The room had changed. The sprinklers stopped. Everything in the room was frozen. The water had turned to ice. Nobody moved. Everybody was on the floor or slumped over desks or tables. I remained on the operating table.
From a corner of the room, I saw movement. Somebody was getting up. It was Cid. He was shivering. He staggered towards me, felt for my pulse and cried in relief. He hugged me for a long moment. And then, he turned his attention towards Kefka who was lying on the floor unconscious.
The cold inside the room must've been unbearable. He was trembling harder now. His movement was restricted. He bent over to pick up a dagger on the ground. The camera zoomed in. It wasn't the same dagger that had killed me. It must've been from one of the cult members.
Another burst of blue-white light flashed. The burst came from me again. It hit Cid with a force that threw him on the floor. But he refused to lose consciousness. He crawled towards Kefka with the dagger in his hand. From another corner of the room, a cult member stirred to life. He saw Cid and read his ill intentions towards his master. He, too, crawled towards Kefka as if in a race.
Both Cid and the fanatic reached Kefka's unconscious body. Cid raised the dagger with the intent to kill Kefka. The fanatic wrestled with Cid, pushing away the dagger. They were both in weakened state. Cid refused to give up, as did the fanatic. The fanatic threw his whole body on top of his master. At the same instance, Cid brought the dagger down in a plunge.
The dagger bit flesh. Cid lost consciousness finally. The fanatic died. Then there was static once more.
I was speechless at what I saw. Guardian waited for me to ask a question.
"Are you the only one who has a copy of this?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Does Kefka know that Cid tried to kill him?"
"No."
I closed my eyes and sighed in relief. "Destroy it," I whispered.
The screen went blank. "Done," she said in reply.
Kefka was silent for long moments, pondering in disbelief of the news of the Maranda mission.
"What does it mean, master?" Tayan asked, breaking the silence.
"It means that we are underestimating Subject A. She is not as predictable as we had hoped. This makes me really annoyed," Kefka answered in a frown. Leo's warning was starting to take form.
"Llurd is not pleased," Tayan added.
"I couldn't care any less for that inconsequential desert bug!"
"Forgive me."
"This is not a setback. We proceed according to plan."
Tomyn arrived at the village in the morning. He had already traveled quite a ways when he saw a distant light from behind him. It was then that he had decided to backtrack.
He was too late. Everything had already burned down. He fell on his knees amidst the smoldering rubble and cried. It was then that he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"You mourn for no one."
Tomyn looked up, surprised. "Mr. Cole! What are you doing here?"
"Investigating," the man answered. "Get up and give me a hand."
Tomyn followed the stranger to what seemed to be the center of the village where a stone well was all that stood. A woman rested there with her sleeping baby. On the ground, around the well were tin buckets and wooden pails a few of which were filled with water. He had found them in the villagers' tool shack.
"Take two filled with water and follow me."
The stranger carried two pails himself and led the way up to one of the rubbles. The building had burned down almost completely. The fired had consumed most of what was there to consume. All that were left were a few scattered fires underneath the ashened heap.
"Where are we going?"
"Looking for the survivors," Mr. Cole answered.
"Have you... found more yet?" Tomyn asked, looking warily at the rubble, fearing that he might see or uncover something that he would not be prepared to see.
"No. But we're getting close."
Tomyn noticed that the path they were taking had already been doused by water. Mr. Cole must've been up all night putting out the fire. Tomyn wondered why he had not given up seeing as the building was completely ruined.
"There," Mr. Cole pointed on the ground where smoke rose steadily still. Mr. Cole emptied his buckets on the spot. Tomyn did the same thing. It took them twelve more trips before they were able to put out the fire completely. It was then that Tomyn was instructed to dig out the spot.
They dug away at the dirt and ash, thick beneath their feet. After about an hour, they uncovered what looked like a trapdoor. The surface of which was scorched. The hinges, however, were still intact. Tomyn and Mr. Cole opened the trapdoor. To Tomyn's surprise, he heard voices.
"Light!"
"Somebody's up there!"
"Save us!"
Mr. Cole and Tomyn assisted in pulling the survivors out of the underground granary. Only a few were injured. Those who were able tended to them the best that they could. Despite the fact that the village was no more, it was great news to him to see that nobody had died. Tomyn had regarded the day to me a day of pleasant surprises. The final surprise of the day, however, was when his own mother emerged from the trapdoor last.
Tomyn and Jennina Stromsburg hugged each other for the longest time.
Author's Notes:
Dear Melissa B,
As I write this, I'm not even sure if you'll ever get this far into the story. If you do, then I thank you. I thank you for reading my fic. I thank you for helping me complete it.
You may find that last 'thank you' puzzling as you have never proofed, edited, or even communicated ideas with me regarding the fanfic. But little did anybody know that I had almost given up on it. That night, my mouse pointer hovered over the deletion confirmation of EVERYTHING that I had for hours, wrestling with the heavy consequences in my mind. A healthy psyche should never have to consider destroying something I had worked hard for in the name of joy and my only source of pleasure. God knows I have very little to be happy about.
But what can I say? I was depressed. That night, you changed that with a simple 'hello.' Had you waited in the morning to say something, my website and everything in it would've been a memory. I wish for you only the best. Tell Wesley that he's very lucky to have you as his girlfriend.
Yours truly,
Lenny
Dear D,
Last year, I noticed how our conversations have become more and more one-sided. And though I was not one to express jealousy or envy to those whom you deemed more deserving of your attention, I was one to express concern. Perhaps I was being annoying when I talked to you too much. That our meetings had gotten too old and our sessions were quickly turning into unbearable moments of tedium. That the things I had to share with you no longer interested you. These were things I feared from the start, if you recall, and I warned you about it--begged you to confront me should I start to become a "pest" to you.
But you were too nice and polite to do that. I don't blame you. That's who you are. And me? Well, I still needed to know.
And so I let go and kept silent. Hoping that you would notice. Hoping that you would say something. I hoped that you would bring it up and ask. But you never did.
What was I to think? I had no choice but to come to the conclusion that you didn't want to speak to me again. And when you completely cut me off--what that told me was that I've wronged you most horribly--and I'll never know how. That you're angry at me for something--and I'll never know what or why.
Nothing says it clearer than a whole year of silence. All that I did--the sacrifices, the compromises--concrete, intangible, recognized, thankless--they were not enough to convince you to call me by my real name, let alone earn me the right to call you by yours. My efforts weren't enough to compensate for my flaws and shortcomings. They weren't enough to earn me a friend in you.
Of this, I am truly sorry. Take it as an apology. It's up to you if you wish to accept. Take it as an expression of deep regret. It's up to you if you wish to take satisfaction in it. Whatever you decide, you win again. And as always, I lose.
Icarus soared but got too close to the sun. Perhaps he deserved what happened to him. But I betcha he enjoyed his flight while it lasted. I sure did. Thank you for all the good times.
Goodbye.
Lenny