Tellah sat quietly by himself against the main mast of the ship. The sailors' footsteps were heavy; they didn't notice him as they passed by. Several crew members occasionally swept away the water that made it onto the deck from rough waves with learned efficiency. Others were walking around sharing portions of food amongst the civilians on board. Tellah's sea legs weren't particularly horrible, but the movement was strong enough to nauseate him. When a seaman came by, holding a bowl of soup to Tellah's face, Tellah declined. He knew by smell alone that it wouldn't settle well in his current state. In fact, that was the only thing he knew.

He didn't know how he ended up here. Something had happened, and he was on his way…somewhere? The other people on board were all tanned deeply with disheveled clothes and soot stains across their bodies. Several of them were wearing high quality fabrics - typically, people with the gil to purchase such luxuries would never be caught dead looking the way they did, even amongst the lower class citizens. Why were they here as they were? Crystals! Why couldn't he remember? The feeling of remembering something important so close to his grasp frustrated him.

A older man with an air of importance walked up to him. Was he the captain?

"I meant it when I told you there wasn't any space for you. We're out of beds. Unless you want to offer some…encouragement - " the man pointedly glanced at Tellah's coin purse hanging from his waist. "- to the men running the infirmary below, you'll need to find the softest piece of deck to sleep on."

Tellah gave him a slight nod.

"How long before we get to land?" Tellah asked. Noticing the man's raised brow, he quickly added, "I imagine the conditions have caused a delay."

"We'll still get to Mysidia within three days. And like I told you yesterday, that's only as long as the weather doesn't worsen," he said.

Tellah said nothing, looking down instead at his hands. He was surprised at how cracked and dry they were. He looked further down and saw a dried blood stain on his shirt. Tellah quickly pulled his robe closed, pretending he had a chill. He heard the man walk away after a few moments. He peeked quickly at the dry stain.

Blood? What the hell happened? He passed a hand through his hair, surprised at the coarseness of it. So he hadn't showered in days. And they were traveling to Mysidia.

Had the order called him back on business? He took inventory of the items on his person. His staff was there, his pack was there - albeit a little lighter than he'd like for cross-continental travel. He sincerely hoped that he told Claire about his trip to Mysidia, as sudden as it was. The last time he'd left without telling her, he'd barely managed to catch her at the docks, luggage ready for a one-way trip to Troia. He hoped he kept his promise this time around. He felt his anxiety grow as a crucial tidbit floated back around his racing thoughts. Mysidia was nearly at war with both Baron and Mist. Was this it? Had the Elder called him back to prepare? Worse, looking at those around him, had it already begun, and he couldn't remember? He hoped not. Minwu would know where she stood - if he'd managed to convince her of the consequences of war. He could explain it all to Tellah.

Tellah stood, feeling a sensation of pins and needles begin on his legs. He groaned at the unexpected pain radiating across his body. He must've slept wrong, he decided. Just then the boat lurched, and he bumped into one of the crew walking by, nearly knocking him to the floor.

"Watch it, old man!" the irate man said. He looked at him with disgust, gesturing something Tellah could only assume was extremely rude at him before he went on his way.

Tellah was baffled. Old man? He was certainly no spring chicken, looking rather middle-aged, older than himself! Tellah bit back a retort. It seemed like he was already on the crew's bad side, and he wasn't going to push his luck any further. Tellah stepped closer to the edge of the boat, sick of the busy work in front of him. He leaned against the metal trimmed rail, letting the cool metal press on his forearms.

Everyone seemed to know what they were doing except him. Behind him, they all had a purpose, a reason for their actions. He watched the waves shift against the dark gray of the clouds in front of them. Provided that they didn't undergo worse weather, they'd get there in three days. And then what? All out war? More death and ruin?

He squeezed his eyes shut and let his head hang down over the rail, groaning. Perhaps he should have told Claire to take her things and run back to Troia. At least until the worst was over. And if he died? Well, at least she'd be with family, to rebuild. That is, if her parents would take her back. They weren't particularly happy to see her leave to begin with. He didn't want to die over a needless pursuit of power - he'd do everything to survive, but he didn't want her left alone in a strange land she hardly knew. Tellah opened his eyes and froze. In the beam was an old man staring back at him. He gaped in horror, and the old man mirrored him.

Was that man stuck in the ship? What..? Tellah could not comprehend what was in front of him. He gingerly slid a finger across the rail, and the old man did it back. As his finger passed, he realized the cracks on his skin weren't cracks, but wrinkles. His hands carried folds that could only come with age. His fear grew to unimaginable proportions as he realized it was a reflection.

Tellah screamed. He pounded his fist against the rail, willing the figure to disappear. The old man did it back, and all Tellah gained was a sore hand. It was a nightmare! It had to be! He'd wake up and it'd be over. He'd hug Claire and they'd laugh at the silliness the mind conjures in the deep silence of night. There was no coming war with Mysidia; he wasn't traveling to see the Elder. He was relieved, in a twisted way. Only a nightmare, he told himself. He slammed his hand repeatedly to no avail. He normally awoke at the point of realization, yet he was still here, in this dream. Desperate, he started to pinch himself, breaking skin with his sharp, overgrown nails. When that didn't work either, he slapped himself across the face.

"What's he doing?" He heard a voice say behind him. He dropped his belongings; his staff clattered to the ground with the hollow sound of wood on wood.

Why wasn't he waking up? Crystals, wake up! Wakeupwakeupwakeup-

"'Wake up'? Has he gone insane?" Another voice said.

Tellah started shaking. The dream was too real- it was too real. If he hurt himself more, he'd wake up. Yes, that would work. He threw another hard slap across his face, this time with much less inhibition. His skin prickled under the force, and pain spread like a mild burn across his cheek.

"What the hell? Stop him before he really hurts himself!" A third voice said.

"Or someone else!" The first voice responded. He heard footsteps start closing in.

Tellah ignored them. He cast Thunder on himself, the sharp scent of ozone quickly replaced by the sea as his left arm seared painfully. The growing crowd grew excited, concerned chatter and whispers growing around him. He gasped, leaning forward as he felt the burning pain grow stronger and stronger and yet he. wasn't. waking. up. What was happening to him?

He didn't want to be in this nightmare anymore. He caught sight of the sea and at once knew of a surefire way to wake up. He clambered clumsily over the rail. He was almost overboard, his head tilted down and his legs in the air when three men all grasped at him at once, grabbing anything they could to pull him back.

"Let me go! I'm not staying here!" Tellah shouted, forcing himself to dead weight as much as he could, wiggling and twisting his arms and legs from their grasps. "No!" He shouted as they pulled him back up. The three men pinned him down and his spectacles clattered from the aggressive attack. He started chanting again.

"Shit - Get the silent bell! Go get it now!" Someone shouted. He heard rapid footsteps sprint away and back. The person rang the bell next to his ear and his voice cut out. He tried to scream again and found no voice. A thought that curled his toes passed through his mind - what if this wasn't a nightmare?

"Is there a mage on board? We need to subdue him!" bellowed the captain. Someone rushed forward, clad in the familiar robes of a black mage.

"Sleep!"

Tellah mouthed as many curse words as he could muster at all of them, furious at their confused, angry faces before the violet rays shot at him and he collapsed into darkness.

Tellah woke up in what he felt was the blink of an eye, but knew had to have been hours later. He was in a cot, strapped down by ropes from his chest down to his feet. The man in the chair next to his bed was napping with his chin to his chest. Tellah looked around, taking account of his surroundings. A sailor was asleep in the bed on his right, his head bandaged and nearly covering his eyes. On his left, behind the man in the chair, appeared to be the storage space - barrels and luggage all tied together and precariously balanced within the pile. His folded cloak and spectacles lay on one crate. He was somewhere below deck, in what was likely an infirmary for unlucky travelers. He could hear a faint pitter patter above them, guessing that they were well within a mild storm.

"You're awake," a voice said somewhere behind his head. Tellah tried to look up, unable to get a clear look at whoever it was. The captain walked around to his side. He had a grim expression on his face, arms crossed in front of him.

A soft, almost quiet wind escaped his lips; he remembered that his voice was stolen. The captain reached into his pocket and pulled out a few glowing leaves - echo herbs. He reached into his pocket again and pulled out another silent bell.

"If I give you these herbs, will you promise not to hurt yourself or any others on my ship?" he asked. "You get only one chance. I promise you I will use this bell and leave you tied down here for the rest of the voyage."

Tellah nodded, and the man dropped the herbs into his open mouth. Tellah bit down, the leaves grinding down into a bitter, medicinal tasting paste, and the dissonant sound of metal chimes rang in tandem to the feel of soft leaves. As he chewed, he awoke the man in the chair.

"Cap'n." The man tipped his hat at his superior. The captain nodded back. "He slept the whole time. No abnormalities to report. I cured what I could of his injuries but we only have so many potions on board."

Tellah craned his neck to see semi healed burn wounds on his arm. From his exposed collar he could see burnt tendrils reaching up towards his shoulder and from his wrists down towards his hand, widespread damage from the impact point of his spell.

"Very good. You're dismissed," the captain said, taking the chair from the departing sailor.

The captain waited to hear the trap door to the upper deck open and close. It creaked open, heavy boots making their way to the surface amongst the pitter patter of raindrops and distant thunder before all ambient noise above them muffled again.

"When I said encouragement, I meant money, not nearly killing yourself and my crew. What's your name?" the captain asked.

"My name is Tellah," Tellah said. His voice grew heavier as his memories clicked in place. "I'm a Mysidian taught sage from Kaipo, and I lost my daughter to the attack in Damcyan." The captain sighed through his nose. Tellah couldn't stop himself - he began talking about Anna because he needed someone to know her - to know what happened. The captain leaned back in the chair, the two front legs raising from the floor as he listened to Tellah recount the tragic tale of the past few days. "If she hadn't gone off with that bard, we'd be at home, no worse for the wear," he said bitterly.

"I disagree," said the captain. Tellah glanced back at him in surprise. "She wouldn't have left if you gave her your blessing. I wouldn't go blaming anyone who acted in the name of love without knowing what would happen at Damcyan. Who would've expected that?"

Tellah didn't respond. He'd blamed Edward for her death. In his heart he still did, though he knew he shouldn't. The true person to blame, to punish, was Golbez. The captain set the chair down, leaning forward to be level with Tellah's gaze.

"Do you remember why you're here? Why you're tied up?" he asked. Tellah nodded, looking straight up at the ceiling. The wooden panels above him were beginning to warp, and further behind his cot there was moisture along the beams. "Then you know why I cannot release you."

"It was my subconscious trying to protect itself - I couldn't accept my daughter's death. But, I know who I am, and it won't happen again," he said. He didn't know for sure, but he didn't want to be left alone with his thoughts and his pain for the next few days. He was a dead man walking - did he have to be buried alive as well? "Have you ever lost your reason to live?"

"Tellah, and I can sympathize with your loss. I've not lost a child, but I've lost close family. However, I'm afraid I cannot let you free to roam around my ship. Not with what you're capable of." He stood from the chair. "We'll let you out to use the facilities every few hours or so, but you'll be monitored by the other mage on board."

"I suppose I don't blame you," Tellah said, accepting defeat. "Thanks for not letting me jump off the ship," he added quickly.

The man smirked. "It's the least I can do," he said. He left as well, and Tellah was alone with his thoughts.

In the dark, there was nothing to see and his mind ran wild. He saw Anna in Claire's wedding gown: Kaipo's town hall decorated for a ceremony that existed only in his head. He'd never get to walk her down the aisle, never get to watch her toss her bouquet to hopeful women behind her. Tellah clenched his jaw, air forced in and out through gritted teeth. Anna would never know the blessing of having her own children: something she spoke of with dreamy eyes. She'd never see another sunrise or sunset. The dual moons illuminating the desert. She'd never sit across from him, telling him about the next song she was learning. She'd never attempt to cook again, burning yet another of Tellah's pots impressively beyond the repair of any magic he knew. Worst of all, she'd never hear him say he loved her one last time.

The grief twisted at his heart, pulling all sorts of dark thoughts, all sorts of has-beens and will-never-bes that his daughter lost. It continued like this for hours, with Tellah's teeth almost cracking from the force, his shoulders stiff from the rage he contained within himself…

Tellah fell asleep - he knew this because when he awoke, it was because of the blinding light coming in from open trap door. The storm had come and gone, leaving only petrichor behind.

"Sir Tellah? It's time to stretch your legs," a voice called out. Tellah strained his eyes against the sudden change in light, barely able to see the young man who was now in the room with him. The black mage undid the knots restraining him, and Tellah was given some time to stretch his legs and use the captain's facilities to minimize his exposure to the other civilians on board.

"How much longer?" Tellah asked.

The young man had his back turned to give Tellah privacy. He only tilted his head back slightly towards him to show that he was listening.

"Perhaps one more day?" he answered. "I heard a sailor say we've been blessed with crosswinds, and the storm passed faster than we expected." Tellah grunted in affirmation. He was carefully washing his hands to avoid his burns when the mage signaled that it was time to return to his binds. They stepped out of the captain's cabin, and the repeated change in light was starting to give him a headache. His eyes readjusted to his surroundings as they walked back to the storage room.

Today, the people aboard were a little merrier; lively conversations, even laughter could be heard from a group of nobles to his right. One person was playing a harmonica, and another was clapping to the rhythm. Two people were dancing in rotation, elbows locked on one other as they shared wide smiles.

"It's rather wonderful, isn't it?" the mage asked Tellah. Tellah raised a brow.

"What could be wonderful under these circumstances?" he retorted. He tried to mask the anger he felt.

"These people just lost their home, and they're already making the most of their situation." The mage gave him a wide smile under the brim of his hat. Tellah didn't answer; he didn't have the energy for it.

Didn't they know? Didn't they know that Anna had died? Didn't they know that it was the end of the world, that the luster of life had faded away and left behind a colorless wasteland? The boldest yellows could no longer brighten a room, and the most genuine laughter would no longer fill the air? How could they pretend everything was fine; how could they keep living?

Tellah stepped down into the darkness once more. He made his way to the cot and was tied back into place. He shut his eyes, ready for the quiet to welcome the empty feelings and racing thoughts once more. He opened an eye when he heard the mage shuffle his feet next to him.

"Yes?" Tellah asked. The mage was playing with his hands, willing himself to ask Tellah something.

"Is it true? The events at the base of Mount Ordeals?" His eyes were wide, hushed voice almost innocent. He reminded him of Anna as a child waiting to hear his stories with similar excitement. His heart tore again.

"What events?" he asked, restraining a sigh. Decades since the ordeal at Mount Ordeals had conflated, exaggerated, aggrandized the true story.

"That you were able to singlehandedly stop the tyrant of Mysidia from breaking the forbidden seals, that-"

"No," Tellah said. "And leave me alone. There was nothing amazing about the events there. She wanted something - she didn't get it. There were several of us there to stop her. Get your head out of the clouds and focus on real studies instead of the glory of fantasies."

The mage stammered, blushing heavily. He gave a quick apology as he headed towards the exit. The trap door open and shut, and Tellah was left alone again with the spectre of a happy Anna to torture him.

Prior to Damcyan, the last thing she'd told him was that she hated him. He'd called her immature - made a mockery of her. None of it was true and he couldn't take it back. The last time he'd seen her, she was a mixture of hatred and indifference. In his head, on his deathbed, she'd have been the one to say goodbye to him, and he'd have given her and her children all of the wisdom he could share before he departed. He would have the widest smile; he'd tell her she would be alright without him.

Golbez stole that.

Golbez stole from Mysidia. He stole from Mist. He stole from Damcyan.

Tellah wouldn't let him steal anymore. He'd bring the moon down on him if he could. His eyes widened.

"I can't hold on much longer," Lydia whimpered. She was halfway to the floor, her knees shaking violently like dying leaves on a branch blown by a gust. Sweat rolled down her temples, her hair sticking to her forehead and her chest heaving for air as she strained against the winds.

Mist's dragon and her summoner had been able to hold Gale back for hours, but only just. Tellah was in a similar state, having held back the teeming, endless crowds of undead skeletons and malignant spirits that were about to overwhelm them from behind. He was sick of the rotting faces that glared hungrily at them, the clacking teeth that desired to tear their flesh off of their bones. The spirits would crawl along the ground, flickering in and out of existence as if they could only be seen through thunder in a dark storm. Tellah had very little strength left in him to hold them back.

Gale suddenly began shrieking behind the wall of mist.

"No! She found it - she sees the binds!" Lydia cried. Tellah's heart pounded in his ears.

"Lydia!" he called out. She watched him from the corner of her eye. "We have to swap! You have to keep the creatures off of us, and I will handle Gale."

"What? No, you can't go there! You'll both die!" Lydia fell to one knee. Tellah strode forward, towards the wall of the cyclone past the mist.

"Better that than all out war," he said. "If I don't come back, tell Claire I love her."

"You dumbass!" Lydia turned her arms towards the zombies crawling towards her, and the mist dragon blew its holy breath on them.

He took a deep breath and stepped into the winds, feeling himself get flung like a ragdoll at the whims of nature. His skin tore apart from the force and healed over and over - the effect surprised him, and he guessed the recovery had to do with the mountain, as though it blessed him in his endeavor. The noise was deafening here, and he was unable to discern what was Gale and what was gale.

"Yes! Yes!" He managed to hear from the eye of the storm. Tellah cast a spell - his own wind. It blew with the cyclone he was caught in, and he redirected it slightly perpendicular to the gust. The strong wind prevented him from taking any deep breaths, and he felt faint. His plan worked: the redirection caused him to fly into the eye. He slowed to a standstill, surprised to find himself floating near Gale, gasping for breath.

Gale had her eyes shut in ecstasy, her hair floating as if suspended underwater - in fact, if he wasn't in the same space as her, he would've thought she was completely underwater. Tellah reached forward and clutched her arm.

He felt himself shift in space. He stumbled from the shock, taking a moment to regain his bearings. He was standing at the top of the mountain. There was a beautiful dais at the summit, intricate carvings along each of the stone pillars. Gale stood motionless in the far end, a yellow light piercing her body from a flickering topaz boulder.

He glanced around, realizing how peaceful the mountain was without the powerful gusts overtaking all ambient sounds, and the undead desecrating the holy mountain. He did a double take when he saw the Tower of Prayers in a crumble in the distance. Tellah took a few steps towards it; his eyes widened when he realized it wasn't destroyed - it was in the midst of construction.

'Were we teleported to the past?' he wondered. Gale hadn't realized he was there, oblivious to her surroundings as magic rippled through her skin via perforations. The spell was taking its toll just by taking hold of her body. He walked closer to her, and he realized there were several stations of colored boulders around the dais, though two were already ordinary. Each, save for the gray ones, whispered promises of power and beckoned him forward. The obsidian to his right was the loudest.

'Tellah...you're here at last. You're mine.'

Tellah paused, surprised that it knew his name.

"I'm not anyone's except Claire's."

'You are mine; I run in your veins. I hear your heart beat. I taste your pleasures. I feel your pain. I smell your fears. I see your desires-'. It sounded as though it was getting closer and closer, until it was whispering right into his ear, tickling his hair. He shivered.

"I do not want you."

'Oh, you will. It's all here, Tellah. It sings under your skin, it lives right under your nose. You simply don't know how long you've been waiting for me.'

"Then let me show you how much I don't want you." He walked by without a second thought. Tellah could've sworn he heard a dry laugh as he passed.

'You'll be back for me. No one rejects Meteor. I can wait a little longer.'

Tellah shivered at its sure drawl, so confident in its words that it might as well have told Tellah the sky was blue. Instead, he focused on the sorceress in front of him-

That was it, Tellah realized. That was the solution. Releasing Meteor-it's the only thing that would stop Golbez. He thought of Gale. The cost of forbidden magic is great: detrimental damage inflicted permanently on young mages. To an old one like himself, with magic as arcane and powerful as that? It was certain death. An image of a beautiful Anna in her mother's ballroom gown, a bouquet of roses flying out of her hands as she threw them flashed through his mind again. The mirth and celebrations he dreamed to see were already gone.

They were a message in a bottle cast to sea, the ocean's merciless waves taking it to the unknown, where Tellah could only hope they'd be seen once again in a time or place far away as a reminder that Anna was here. She had lived, she had loved, and she was taken away before youth's ephemeral sheen had a chance to fade, but her father had made certain it wouldn't happen again. Yes - he would go to Mount Ordeals, and he would learn Meteor there. May the spell take both of them to their graves - so long as girls like Anna could live out their greatest fantasies with unrelenting hope and reverent innocence.

A/N: This should be the last 'not much really happened' sort of chapter. The next ones should all progress with the FFIV story more :) thanks for reading!