Within Holy Walls
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic
By Tenshi no Ai
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.
Chapter 29: Fate
This is the moment.
I'm running, stretching towards Beowulf, a victim of the same spell I had been under only days before. I have to make it! I have to--
Buremonda's lips close upon the last syllable of his spell and an inky black...thing erupts from his outstretched palms, a malignant ball of palpable energy flying towards my love.
If only I was the talkative, vocally emotive type, then maybe I could scream his name. It won't do anything now, but then, maybe, Beowulf could hear me and know that I'm here.
I'm here, Beowulf.
This is the moment, and even as I throw myself in front of him, I remember all the moments that led up to this one.
-----
It's a cold day today.
I've already gone out once, while the darkness was absolute and foreboding, in order to go take a bath. It was snowing then, large pieces of white that were lazily drifting in the darkness. The clock, high up on its tower, had read five past five. It's not a normal time for me to be awake, but I feel so excited. I'm leaving! I'm going with Beowulf and we're going to be married and from then on we won't have to worry about the Church this...' or the Church that...'!
Not even the cold can cool down my excitement.
So now I'm folding clothes, all those articles of cloth that are currently spending time on the floor of my room. Not like some of these pieces of clothing haven't already in the recent past. I'll have to work on that; a wife shouldn't be lazy with housework. So I fold and fold and fold and wonder why I have so much in the way of clothing. I should've done it yesterday, but I...well, I slept the whole day away. That kind of thing can happen if I'm not careful. Wintertime makes me sleepier, I've noticed.
Strange...it's all so strange.
I place the nicely-folded blouse inside my valise, on top of the countless other blouses and skirts and dresses already inhabiting the medium-sized box. There's a small smile on my face that I can't seem to get rid of. I don't know why it's there, but I can't help it. Even in this simple but tedious chore, I feel...peaceful. Relaxed. Even with the snow and the darkness, I feel excited. A little contradicting, but very pleasant all the same. These feelings bunch up, not at all comfortable with each other at first, then they spread out over me, warming me. It's all like smoothing out a patchwork quilt.
Maybe that's what happiness is, a patchwork of so many different emotions that somehow manage to fit right. And it's warm. I should make one once we get to Lesalia. He's talked before about how cold it is there.
Hm. I giggle quietly. I'm too used to dwelling on something; my current frame of mind is unsettling. Then again, I'm not usually this sort of happy. I'm used to it being a bit more...languid than this.
All kinds of happiness are easy to come by...if you're not looking.
Isn't that the problem, though? We're all wallowing in the despair of fated or self-created problems, unable or unwilling to open our eyes and see the true beauty of life.
I know I was.
Sitting on the cold floor in front of my valise, I lower my head and take a deep breath. The heirloom stone is sitting next to me, so I pick it up and place it on my lap, holding it in my hands as I study its simplistic pitcher-like shape.
It used to be so easy, life was. As a child, my parents made all the really important decisions. All I had to do was learn: learn how to be a great hunter, learn how to be a great wife. As I understand it, one's childhood is for learning how to effectively deal with one's adulthood. But I was having a lot of fun as a child, even with all the burdens of learning to be an adult resting on my shoulders, and I often looked at my parents, thinking, for the rest of my life, everything will be fun! Just like my parents, I'll live out my life in happiness!' After all, on monster-infested Bariaus Hill, my parents were my only examples of what adults, that strange breed of human, were supposed to be.
Now that I'm an adult, I haven't a clue what an adult's supposed to be. Stressed, maybe?
So far, my life in Bariaus Hill is my favorite period of my life...even after removing the heavy coat of nostalgia from those memories. Though, the life I've been living in Lionel overall runs a very close second. Not just because of Beowulf, though he's very significant to me, but because of all the people I've met while I was here. Chiroseau, Peppermint, Izlude, Chieko...I'm even willing to include Scarlet and Buremonda on this list of people who've enhanced my life here.
Wow...that's a lot of people, now that I think about it. And many of these people have left...
But then again, aren't I leaving as well?
Maybe it's a good thing that those who've left are gone. I didn't like it at the time--who likes saying goodbye?--and it's certainly showed me how unstable life is. But all these people--my friends--have spread themselves throughout Ivalice, throughout the world and...it's as if, no matter where I go, I'll find a friend.
No matter where I go, I won't be alone.
It's sad to admit this, but by myself I can't really do anything except cling to life. I don't grow, learn, experience nearly as much as I do when I'm with others. I'm not really comfortable with just myself. I wonder if anyone truly is?
I think...I think that a human's worst enemy is their self. I know mine is. Maybe that's why most people like to surround themselves with other people, people they like and respect. In this way, we can hide ourselves within the group, and maybe transcend ourselves into something we'd like to be alone with.
Maybe. I'm sure some people succeed too, but the rest of us are bored with ourselves and always wish to change something so that we'll be...better. Different. Interesting.
Of course, change isn't a matter of what one can do, but rather what ends up happening. One has to lose something to gain another, and no human truly likes losing anything. They're very comfortable with what they are because they know it, instead of changing and stepping into the unknown. Beowulf would understand. He personally knows. That's why he's here in Lionel, even to this day. But soon he won't be.
The reason why he is able to step into the unknown is because he won't be alone.
I place the last of my clothes into my valise, smiling a bit at my accomplishment. To my left is the box with the enchanted bracelet. I'd like to wear it for our wedding, so I pick it up and fit it between the folds of my Holy Knight dress, which happens to be on top of all the other clothes so I don't have to dump all my nicely folded clothes just to get at my wedding dress.
--Why don't you wear that one you used for that ball?--
And after all I was thinking, I still have to reuse this dress in the end. I guess that's the way life is.
Closing the valise, I climb up onto my bed and lay on top of the blanket, staring dimly at the myriad of cracks along my ceiling wall. The barest glimmer of light is showing, and what it's showing me of my room isn't very pleasant. I'm sure none of the rooms in any...manor in Lesalia have cracked ceilings. They all probably have fresh plaster gleaming white, even through the shadows of the night. Maybe that's the mark of a nice house: the ceilings don't look like replacements for the Best Trails in Ivalice' map.
...Actually, that makes me kind of nervous.
I'm assuming that we'll be staying at Beowulf's childhood home for awhile--at least until we find a nice, small place of our own--and if it's a really nice and big house just like Beowulf said it was...I've never been in a place like that before. Murond doesn't count because lots of people were living there. Lionel castle really shouldn't count, since it's owned by the Church...well, it was really too much. But a manor' ...it sounds grand.
Can someone like me fit in a place full of grandeur?
I wonder where I could work in a town...no, a city like that. I will work, I know that much. Beowulf would just say no, that I shouldn't worry about that...hn. Turning over so that I face the wall next to the bed, I glare at the cold stone. Deep breath...I once heard that there were large structures called museums' in Lesalia. These places hold artifacts from Ivalice's past...maybe they'll have transcripts that need to be translated. That can't be anymore tedious than Ajora's lofty and incomprehensible words.
--dingdingDONGding--
Six. Where is he? I wish he'd given me an approximate time to expect his arrival.
--Early tomorrow morning--
It's early now, isn't it?
...Hm. I should've asked him. I'll wait a little longer. Maybe he just woke up late. I don't know how he could, though, if he's anywhere near as excited about all of this as I am.
Maybe something's wrong?
...That's a little weird. I mean, what could go wrong? It's only six, he'll show up soon.
...
I sit up, my irrational and nervous energy urging me to do something more than lie in bed and worry away while the seconds tick by on the church's clock. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I feel something smooth and slightly warm under my right foot, and I flinch away from it. What's that? I peer over the edge of the bed and see the pitcher-shaped stone innocently sitting there.
--I know that you can treat it the way it deserves to be treated, that's why I'm entrusting it to you--
Sorry about that, I whisper, feeling only slightly silly about talking to an inanimate object. Reaching down, I pick it up and cradle it against my stomach. I don't know why, but holding it like this is...calming. Though, I'm still worried.
--I'd like it if you didn't leave this room until then, just in case...just in case Buremonda tries something again--
Hmm...I've taken at least one exception from that today, when I went out for a bath...hm. Well, I think I deserve one more look around the church, for nostalgia's sake as well as for the sake of my nerves. Beowulf can let himself in. I just need to do something, anything. I move off of my bed, slipping the stone into one of the pockets of my dress while slipping my feet into my favorite black boots. Making my way to the door, I look back at the bed. The sheets are bunched up a bit, but I'm not feeling considerate enough to actually do it up nicely. Besides, when it's like this, I can almost see
Come closer aren't we close enough no not yet hm that's a real problem isn't it that's just what I was thinking love
the little bit of happiness that we've brought into this room.
I'd like to think that anyone who walked in could, especially if they weren't looking for it.
------
It's still a cold day, even after meandering about the northern end of the church in no less than boots, ninja tights, a long-sleeved shirt and a thick dress over it. When he arrives, I'll be sure to take out my traveling cloak from my valise.
There's no wind, no snow. It's half past six, so there aren't any people out either. The sky is fairly dark; it's been perpetually cloudy since winter hit and the sun can't hope to pierce through the deceptively fluffy mass. Altogether, it gives off a quiet sort of loneliness.
Time to move on. I can't wait for springtime and a sun lazily crossing the endless blue sky.
Silently, I move away from the sill that I had been leaning out of, trying to catch a glimpse of Bariaus Hill through the morning fog. It was a futile gesture; I'll be seeing it up close soon enough. And when I do, it may be the last time I will have my back to Lionel castle town.
I wonder...did all the friends I made who have left this place...did they think about that? Did Peppermint take one last glance at the church and think of the job she had been unfairly fired from? Was Izlude secretly wishing he could go back to studying under me even while he was headed towards Bervenia?
Even if they were thinking those things, they still kept going.
That's all we really can do, isn't it?
But even so, leaving the town to get married, while also quitting our jobs and eventually leaving Lionel...that's certainly more than just keep going', isn't it? It's more like get out of the way of our runaway chocobo cart!'
I laugh. It's all a little absurd, I suppose.
One last time, I try to find the top of Bariaus Hill through the fog and the clouds, but I'm not surprised when I can't. Soon enough, soon enough...
I turn to leave, but I'm not sure where to go from here. Should I just go and wait back in my room? I'm still feeling restless, but maybe Beowulf is there. Quickly I make my way to my room, twisting the doorknob and peering inside my room...oh, he's not here.
It's almost seven...that's not very early, not to us anymore...
Closing the door, I lean against it and stare out of the holes in the wall to the town proper. A lone person is walking towards the south end of town.
Beowulf...where are you? This isn't like you...you always mean what you say.
Shaking my head, I move away from the door. I feel like something bad is happening, but I know I'm being paranoid. It's not even seven yet. Maybe he'll be by at seven. He has a lot to do, being an important man to Lionel and all. Maybe he was just overly tired from all the things he had to arrange, and soon he'll come by, apologizing for oversleeping. Then I can tell him that I've been so worried, and he'll laugh and tell me that he's perfectly fine, he still got here, didn't he?
Yes, that's right, I'm just being very paranoid. I need to calm down. I'll just sneak into the library and read something on theology and if I don't fall asleep first I'll definitely won't be so anxious.
Logic always triumphs over irrational thought...well, except for love.
Now enveloped by a sense of calm, I casually walk to the front of the church
How could you let yourself be so easily tricked?
but I stop when my ears register something faint. Strange, that sounded like
Perhaps it was because of what you tricked me with.
Buremonda at first, but now Beowulf?
...That's strange. What would the two of them be doing that involves Buremonda tricking Beowulf? Thoroughly confused now, I resume my steady pace to the library. Maybe I'm just going delusional again, just like the time that I thought that Izlude was my brother Quain...speaking of which, Izlude's letter still hasn't arrived yet. Ah, I'll ask Beowulf to get it for me.
To do all this...what are you planning?
Library. Beowulf's voice is coming from the library.
No. No. My bad feeling...it's just paranoia, isn't it?
One of the library doors is open when I arrive. I glance through the opening, frowning when I see Beowulf in the middle of the room. I guess I can't doubt my senses. His back is to the door, and with the light flooding into the room via the skylight I can see that he's in casual clothes, boots and brown pants and a white cloak. Alright, so it's a little strange to see him in something that isn't his uniform, but something else...there's something else wrong with this.
He's standing there...but that's it.
He's not the fidgety type or anything, but he is lively enough to move around a bit, even while standing in one place. A shrug of his shoulders, a turn of his head, his hands clenching and unclenching...something.
But instead, he looks rooted to the spot. Not just rooted, but...
--Reis, stop--
That can't be...
I walk forward, hoping that I can free Beowulf from that horrible possession. However, I walk right into something...but the door isn't in the way. Reaching out, I flinch when my hand stops just where the door would be if it were closed. In fact, I can move my hand along this weird...barrier...to the left until it slides along the wood of the other door. I knock on the nothingness that feels solid to my hand, but there's no sound.
...What kind of magic is this? And since Beowulf is inside...how did he get through this and not know that a trap was laid inside?
--tmptmptmp--
I crouch down behind the closed door, peering through the space left by the other door. Buremonda appears from the left side of the room, and that's when I notice that all the tables that normally stand in the middle of the room have been pushed away. Looking at Beowulf's feet, there is a faint bluish glow...is that the magic that's holding him? If the magic is attached to the floor and not to Buremonda himself...does that mean that Beowulf won't be able to break out of it by distracting Buremonda?
I should do something...I want to so badly, but...if Buremonda is willing to go through such drastic preparations, I don't think he's going to stop just because he sees me. He might just stop me as well...and then what?
All I can do is wait.
Buremonda approaches Beowulf, a gnarled staff in one hand, a thick tome in the other. I intend to punish you for your transgressions. No more, no less, holding the curved top of the staff, Buremonda stabs the ground with its pointed bottom and begins walking a wide circle around Beowulf, this is on behalf of Heaven.
Oh, so this is God's will? Beowulf's tone is very...hm, mocking. Well, he does have the capacity for it, and right now I really can't blame him. Don't hide behind your faith. You're doing this for Reis, not because of some divine command.
This is...true, a slight nod accompanies Buremonda's admission, I find myself more and more surprised at what I would do to keep Reis safe. It is...a compulsion, one would say.
'A compulsion'? Although I don't really know how to feel about that, Beowulf sounds very skeptical. You seem to be fully willing to do anything underhanded for her. Don't blame her for your actions.
Anything underhanded'? For me? Why...
--Reis, I truly love you--
...Yes, but...hm. I'm naive, yes, but why can't only good things happen because of love? Why is love both so wonderful and so horrible?
Why is any emotional concept, really?
But to say that this trap is originally my fault, because without me there wouldn't be an inspiration behind it, isn't that...isn't that going too far?
...Is it?
With a few more steps, Buremonda's circle is finished. You may not know this, but in every church the head priest must take the role of both spiritual leader and abolisher of the personal sins that the devout wish to repent, he explains in a soft tone as he begins drawing things onto the circle, but who do priests confess their sins to? I realize that even paper is ill-suited for the job of bearing the weight of my increasingly gratuitous sin now. So, seeing that you are indisposed to do much else at the moment, I shall confess to you and it will be as private as a confessional booth.
Ah. Because you plan on disposing of me anyway, right? In contrast to those doom-laden words, Beowulf is still calm. I wish...I wish I knew what he was thinking...are his thoughts really as calm as his words? Did you want me to personally deliver your confessions to God? I'm honored. You actually believe I'm going to heaven.
...Beowulf, don't goad him like that. Please. If he gets too angry, who knows what he might do...
I'm not that hopeful for any noble, nor any knight. You are merely convenient, Buremonda moves so that his profile, facing left, can be seen. Surreptitiously, I kick at the barrier once, twice before stopping when he casually turns in my direction. Thank God the other door is closed... anyone who could boast of both titles cannot possibly be touched by God. The nobles take, the knights take, and what remains of Ivalice? Starving commoners, young mothers, and endless warfare, he shakes his head, how do you live with yourself?
Pretty easily, considering that I'm more than a couple of titles and generalizations, Beowulf counters. I smile.
--but my job isn't who I am--
Yes, exactly. Why can't you see that, Buremonda? Why can't you see beyond the labels each of us bear?
Inspiring words. I'll believe your sincerity when a commoner becomes king, sighing lightly, Buremonda continues drawing obscure shapes on and around his circle, but for now, I would say that your new label would be that as a hypocrite'. Skirting around edicts made by a priest just to satisfy your desires, just a microcosm of the relationship between the aristocracy and the Church. You claim there are no labels, yet you continue to follow the trend. Unsurprising.
...Excuse me? Hypocrite'? I glare at Buremonda's back. A charge like that from him is almost funny, if it didn't display the ignorance he has about himself.
It's just sad.
I'm a hypocrite? Beowulf's tone is one of bewilderment. Wait...you honestly believe that you're on some higher moral ground compared to me? You lie, criticize others unfairly, surround yourself with only women as your white mages, and are, at this very moment, making preparations to kill me because you want Reis. And somehow you're able to claim that you're nothing more than a servant to God, the last words are said with a generous helping of disgust. That's very understandable.
Weren't you just saying that labels are unnecessary? And now this talk about my life's work? That's a very swift turnaround there, Sir Kadmus, oh, God, is he only listening for the things he could throw back at Beowulf, no matter how shaky they are?
What you're guilty of has more merit on the role you play, Beowulf answers quietly, yes, I have desires. Everyone does. You're no different. That's why you started that inane rule, that no fraternization' between knights and white mages. All you really cared about was shielding Reis from every eligible male, right?
Buremonda nods, though how Beowulf is supposed to see it when that priest is standing behind him is another thing altogether. Yes, that is true. Everything I have done since I first caught sight of her years before was for her. A single glance at that beautiful soul was enough to make me wish to devote my life to her, my shining angel. Although I am beholden to the Lord and the Holy Saint, she is, as well, deserving of my eternal allegiance.
I narrow my eyes at this while probing the bottom of the invisible shield for a hole of some kind.
--It's as I first thought. Reis, you truly are a queen of angels, both in presence and beauty--
Those words. Always those words.
I'm sick of them.
Beowulf mutters, obsession at first sight. So that's why you were so eager to transfer her here once Draclau left.
If it could've prevented this...I would've disobeyed orders and stayed in Murond in the first place. My happiness isn't worth this...
Yes. I wanted to see her and exchange words with her on a daily basis. I had found my peace when I finally got the chance to be near her... Buremonda's tone is wistful, and...it reminds me of the simpler times, when I thought he was kind and tranquil, almost angelic in both looks and attitude, but...
--If he wants to play this game, let him. I just don't like how he used Reis for this--
It was short-lived. Before my first month in Lionel had ended, I had learned to be wary of him, but I...I still thought he was mostly nice anyway. I just hated how he treated Beowulf and Peppermint.
--Reis, stop--
And me.
But then she started to change.
What?
Well...yes, she's changed. She's a lot more open now...that's a bad thing? Beowulf sounds as confused as I feel.
Buremonda slowly follows the circle in the same direction he had been going before--clockwise--still scratching strange symbols into the floor. He's heading towards facing Beowulf again, so I stop poking and prodding the invisible barrier and scrunch a bit more behind the closed door, holding my hair back as I watch with my unblocked right eye.
What is he going to say about my change? Why does he care?
You corrupted her--
God, not this again. You know, if you were a musician, you'd get fired for playing the same note over and ove--
It's like a roar, Buremonda's interruption is, and I flinch when it slams into my ears. She used to be so modest, incapable of spewing false words and cruel invectives. But, within a month of her meeting with you, I had to bear witness as she walked around in...in that shameless excuse for battle wear that is the female monk's uniform. And the outfit later, when your worthless knights couldn't do their job and defend this town... very visibly, he grits his teeth, eyes flaring with anger...and something else? but even worse than those clothes was how you turned that innocent girl to lying, covering up for you even as you inflicted your evil deeds onto her untainted soul!
...Although I didn't like it, I still made the choice to lie multiple times to him. And yet, it's all Beowulf's fault.
Are there ever going to be any actions of mine that Buremonda will accredit to me?
And what would you have done if she hadn't lied? Beowulf asks, his voice quickly losing the moderate quality that had made him sound calm, even in the face of whatever Buremonda is planning. You would've thrown her out of Lionel if she told you the truth. It's a survival instinct to protect oneself by any means possible. You can't blame her for being human.
Well, more or less.
'Blame her'? Believe me, I completely realize that she did not cause her own downfall. That was your work, even as far away as I am, I can see a cold glint in Buremonda's eyes as he glares up at Beowulf, I know about survival instincts. I saw quite a few in Zeltennia that were inspired by your kind. To survive, one might even submit to their captor's demands, his lips form a thin line, is that familiar to you, Sir Kadmus?
That's...even for him, that's going too far, that...
You really believe that, don't you? Beowulf's voice is quiet, almost meek, yet...there's something running along those words, like the crackling of flames... You honestly believe that I've corrupted her, perverted her, tried to turn her into a demon in human flesh, whatever you've fantasized. And you need to believe it, right, because the alternative really gets to you, the subtle crackling flares into the roar of a thickly-burning fire.
Buremonda...it's strange, but he seems to be...it's like he's under the same spell that he seems so fond of using. His stare is like a sharp silver of ice, unaffected by the heat of Beowulf's words. Even if they aren't moving, I feel like I'm watching a vicious battle.
I can't interrupt this time. All I can do is hope that they can calm themselves down. I can't even hope that Beowulf will win.
These are just words, after all.
The fact that Reis could be human, could actually want to do the things you disapprove of...that bothers you the most, Beowulf continues, sounding wholly unaffected by the icy stare being sent his way, did you really think that you could control her that easily? Are you being self-righteous now because of your compulsions' towards Reis, or are you just angry that she wasn't the person you thought she was, and you needed a scapegoat to blame for her humanity?
There is only silence after Beowulf's words, a dry and brittle silence that is settling over all of us like fine dust. It's a silence that gets into one's mouth and nose, easily stifling words for a moment or two. That's all, though. This isn't that sort of silence that all the participants walk away from in shame or shock. I've seen that at Murond a couple of times, mainly from the very highest of priests. It was if someone had told them they had been worshipping a false god.
No, this isn't that kind of silence. This is the silence before reaction, the silence just before that very still red panther lunges for your throat.
The way she is now is very unappealing to me. Too crude, without any tact...she sounds somewhat like you, the tone is gentle and light, the smile contemplative from what I can see before Buremonda moves to stand directly in front of Beowulf, while I'm sure that she will lose much of that inherited willpower once she hears of your death, she probably won't suddenly fall back into becoming that delicate angel I loved.
I'm looking forward to helping her realize her true potential.
...
...Those words...just now, they sent a chill running down my spine...
Beowulf whispers, a dark undertone running along that word. I look at him, squinting because I...there's something I can sense around him, touching off one of my senses but...why can't I see it?
Beowulf, what are you doing...?
You know, it's almost funny how you believe you can manipulate Reis for your own ends. Obviously any strength she demonstrates now comes from me, because she's so fragile, he sounds strange. His voice is strained...or is it my hearing that's off? you shouldn't underestimate her. I know she'll survive long after I'm gone. She doesn't need me around to be strong.
But I don't intend to test that out today.
A large blue-white streak of light falls from...somewhere and plummets into the spot next to Buremonda. Blinking rapidly, I can just make out his heavily-robed figure stumbling away from Beowulf's spellbound form through the numerous blotches distorting my vision.
The lightning falls again.
How are you able to do this?! Buremonda is angry, so angry, but I can't help but smile when I hear the fear in his voice. You shouldn't have the skill to banish any part of my spell!
I don't, Beowulf nonchalantly replies, his voice slightly strained again, at least, not immediately. Since these spells aren't attached to you, you can't feel me unlocking any of them, especially this Don't Act component. Haven't a clue why you didn't attach these spells to yourself, unless someone's already proven how unreliable that is...
I'll tell you everything, just please, get out safely...
The telltale spark that signifies the falling of the lightning appears just above Buremonda's head...what is that...that sheen that just encircled his body...?
...Where's the lightning?
A cloud of celestial blue and silver surrounds Beowulf, just before--oh, God...
No!!
All I can hear are his screams as lancelets of lightning tear into his unprotected body, unable to move or even twitch as each bolt re-rends...stop it, God, please...
Stop it!
My right shoulder hurts when I hurl myself into the invisible barrier, but the stupid thing holds as if I were nothing but a feather. I try to claw through it with my short nails, but the skin underneath my nails pinches and tears too easily, making the surface slick with my blood.
I won't stop.
The lightning is gone, leaving multiple charred burns throughout Beowulf's once pristine cloak. He's breathing shallowly, each breath hitching and slow. He sounds like he wants to collapse, but that spell holds him up and makes him look as if he were a perfect statue, albeit with scorch marks. Buremonda takes a few steps to the right, a bland expression on his face. Did you think that I wouldn't take measures to protect myself?
Was worth... Beowulf coughs, each sound eliciting tears from my eyes. God, I'm so pathetic...is this all I can do? ...a try. Another spell...layered...
Ah, would you be talking about the sluggishness you might be feeling, or the disorientation? You really shouldn't have the skill to unlock the basic Don't Act or Move spells, but just in case you did I decided on...insurance, if you will, slowly, Buremonda shakes his head as if he were...disappointed? you're planning to take Reis away from me. Did you really think that I wouldn't use every spell in my repertoire in order to prevent such a thing?
At that smug tone, I punch the barrier with my right hand. Something cracks and I flinch. Thank God I'm ambidextrous.
Beowulf coughs again. Impressive. Are you done recounting your sins?
I hadn't even started, Buremonda starts, glancing away from Beowulf, don't be so presumptuous to--
And his eyes meet mine.
My eyes aren't very special. A lot of Ivalicians have brown eyes. My brothers' amber eyes were a rarity, and Beowulf's brandy eyes are simply incredible. Green eyes, hazel eyes, blue eyes...those are all fairly common in varying amounts, but nothing beats brown eyes in mediocrity.
They may be a very average color, but my eyes are very good at conveying meaning.
Buremonda, if you do anything to Beowulf, if you hurt him in any way, using any method, you will regret it.
I promise.
With the lightness of the morning clouds pouring through the library skylight, I can clearly see Buremonda's face pale before he turns around and heads towards the back of the room. Maybe...he's giving up? I should've glared at him a long time ago...wait. He turns around, facing Beowulf. This is my sin, this spell I am about to cast. It is a forbidden spell, one that the Lucavi were said to have used on their victims. A spell that can transform humans into mere monsters.
What? How is that possible...is magic that powerful...?
You'd forfeit your soul to get rid of me? Beowulf whispers, his voice hoarse. Don't you think that's going a little too far?
No, I don't believe this is going too far for her. For Reis...this is the only thing I can do for her, Buremonda opens the tome in his hand, flipping through the pages until he shifts his hold on it, the circle around you will increase the accuracy to perfection. If there is even a little bit of a beast's potential in you, you will transform. Frozen in that state, I will call on your knights to dispose of you.
You...sick...
If you are completely human, an unlikely concept, you will simply die, the tome closes in his hand, any final words?
I won't let you...
I pound on the barrier again and again, vainly trying to ignore what Beowulf's silence could mean. Please, he's just being defiant, right? He's not unconscious or...no! He can't be! He can't! I'll protect him, I'll be there! Stupid barrier, get out of my way!
--crak--
Grimacing, I throw myself against the barrier instead, my right shoulder protesting again, but I can't stop, I won't stop, please...just let me through...
Words slither into my ears, ones I can't even begin to understand in my rage, my desperation, but they touch off something deep inside me. These words...they're like acid and the stench of broken spoiled eggs and half-rotted bodies casually thrown from their tombs and the skittering of a thousand battalions of various bugs, running towards the latest battlefield, preparing to feast and feast on the bloody corpses...
--It is a forbidden spell, one that the Lucavi were said to have used on their victims--
Lu-Lucavi? Real? What is...feelings, two sides...of me? Scares me appeals to me monster human death power go away take me
Take me
My right hand touches something cool to the touch, the index and middle fingers useless as my hand closes around the stone.
The stone.
Stone...paperweight? Heirloom...whose?
Beowulf.
Beowulf!
My head snaps up. What just--oh God, what is that? There's an ugly, bulbous darkness shifting, twisting around Buremonda. He wants to hurt Beowulf with...that? Springing away from the barrier, which I had been leaning against during that weird episode, I yank my hand out of my pocket. I have to get through!
I bring down my abused hand onto the barrier again, and this time it goes through.
In my hand, the stone glitters in the morning light. The squiggly lines are facing me...those lines...Aquarius.
Beowulf's a Libra.
Libra. Aquarius. Air signs, that one boring book had stated.
Oh...all these weird magics...they make me so uncomfortable. Beowulf's the only one who can properly explain all these things to me...
Beowulf!
I start running, charging forward like a behemoth. I remember fighting a behemoth and killing it in this town, months before. Just one memory out of the countless others I possess. A memory that ends in a moment.
So many moments. Am I really just twenty-one?
Once, not so long ago, I thought that my missing memory held my most important moment. Because I didn't remember, it had to be important.
But no, that's not true.
This is the moment.
I'm running, stretching towards Beowulf, a victim of the same spell I had been under only days before. I have to make it! I have to--
Buremonda's lips close upon the last syllable of his spell and an inky black...thing erupts from his outstretched palms, a malignant ball of palpable energy flying towards my love.
If only I was the talkative, vocally emotive type, then maybe I could scream his name. It won't do anything now, but then, maybe, Beowulf could hear me and know that I'm here.
I'm here, Beowulf.
This is the moment, and even as I throw myself in front of him, I remember all the moments that led up to this one.
ReisdarlinglittleReisBigSisRe-isHeadCatalogerDularMissReislittlecatalogermylove
Maybe I really am just twenty-one. There really doesn't seem to be very many moments after all.
But now...
--Run...ev'ryone...
...Finally, I can protect my loved one.
I fling my arms up in front of my face as the darkness plunges towards me, an odd emotion welling up inside me. It's nice.
I smile.
...?! The stone...it's h--
-End to chapter 29-
First, I deeply apologize for the lateness of this chapter. For me, it was painful to write this chapter knowing what it entailed, so I put it aside and played lots of video games to try and alleviate the pain. Silly, huh? I also apologize for the formatting...QuickEdit and Appleworks just doesn't seem to go well together.
-Museums in Ivalice, not to talk of Lesalia? The proposition treasure Tarot of Ben' has a description of it having been stolen from the Lesalia Museum of Art a...year before you randomly pick it up.
-I'd like to think that Buremonda isn't a complete idiot, though he may be a lot of other things. This is why the spell isn't specifically a Holy Dragon' transformation spell, because who in their right mind would want to turn the person they hate most into such a strong monster?
Reviewers (take note of this, I don't respond to reviewers in epilogues)!
Nice to see you again, insane-android-ayako! I was sitting in B12-14 with a friend on the West Terrace, so I was right below you! Funny how that works out. Well, I hope this is becoming a suitable ending for you!
Hey, Luna...bah, I just realized that responding to reviews a month late means that it's too late to say anything relevant. Um...hope those essays and finals turned out okay for you!
Chieko...you know, I've really wanted to write a story about her but...would anyone read it? OCs, you know?
Ello, Quex! Chapters 8-9...that's a long time ago, it feels like...can't blame you for getting sided, but at least you came back! Verden is supposed to be really confusing and contradictory, especially because this is all from Reis' POV. If it were from, say, Beowulf's POV, Verden would consistently be an asshat, I guess. I appreciate the compliment very much, even though I rarely read FFT fics. --
Quex is an interesting name because I don't often see names that start off with Qu'. Plus, it's one syllable, which makes it a strong word. And as you can see, I analyze things too much.
that I talk to you on a weekly basis, I've already responded to this review. Therefore, I'm just saying hi.
Yo, The Burning Misery...you know, if you don't figure out Verden's motives by this chapter, I'm going to cry. Weep, even.
Hey, I wouldn't be complaining about how long a chapter takes to get out. Do you know how much it hurts to try and end this story? But yes, connections are abound.
How do these quotes fit in so well with what is going on with the story? Y'know, I don't have a clue. While I'm writing, I may suddenly get an idea to place a quote from an earlier chapter. I usually remember what chapter a certain quote comes from, so I dig through that chapter (often cringing at the writing) until I find the quote. It's not as tedious as it sounds, I just have a good memory for what I--and others--write.
It's kind of funny...this section is small, but even so, it's hard to get other people's attention to your story. There are lots of stories that I think deserve so much more attention, but no one seems to really care. Saying that, I'm very grateful that so many people actually follow up on my story. More power to the first-person, present-tense POVs!
You'll have to tell me...are there even very many first-person, present-tense POV stories around? I think I've read one other...
Mavina, I hope you survived your finals! Answer to your question: Depends on who you're asking. Me? Humans are animals, just more egotistical.
Thank you very much for reading! If you've managed to get this far, then I'm overjoyed that you've probably liked this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. If you have any questions or comments, I've always got an open mind.
Epilogue: Outside Holy Walls: But as troubling as those injuries had been (are, he modified as a rib creaked unsteadily), there was something far more worrisome on his mind.
Why wouldn't anyone tell him where Reis was?'