Consciousness washes over me in a wave of piercing white agony. It explodes in my head and I gasp in pain, immediately choking on the blood in my mouth and unwittingly clawing at the ground. I roll onto my side, shuddering, and spit in the dirt. I dread opening my eyes; warmth is spilling across my back and the air is crackling… Thamasa is in flames.
Through a haze of smoke and screams, eyes stinging, I observe a clear path to the town square. Kefka, the personification of insanity, stands with his arms raised to a blood red sky, laughing. I'm never to forget this sound. It cuts through the chaos as a sword through silk, drilling into my mind, my heart, even. Instant conditioning. The mere thought of that maniacal, sadistic laughter inspires in me the greatest hatred and disgust I believe myself to be capable of.
Despite the intense pain and the dull recognition that I am likely going to die within the hour, I am not particularly afraid. I am instead consumed by such soul-crushing despair; I feel it will rip me up faster than the fire, or the cold-blooded soldiers set to devastate Thamasa and with it, all our hopes. Victory has been torn from us, stolen from us at the latest conceivable moment. The salvation of the world, the dream within our grasp - wrenched from us by the monstrous psychopath that is Kefka; agent of power.
And then, just as I concede that my heart must now be broken, I witness a miracle. From the burning wreckage of a church steps the man who is the messiah to my atheist dogma. General Leo, my oldest comrade-in-arms, the bravest and most gentle man the Empire has ever rewarded. I attempt to call to him, to scream words of unladylike encouragement that suit neither of us – merely because we are soldiers, and I wish I could fight alongside him.
Leo wields four swords, a sweeping green greatcoat and a degree of immeasurable daring. I watch with desperate pride and terror as he demands of Kefka an honourable fight. They clash in a one-sided conflict; the fury of my mentor is a fearful thing. Thank God, we are delivered, surely. But then Kefka vanishes, and Leo is left with four bloody blades to strike at the empty square shouting for him, even as the fire flares. Thamasa is a doomed wreck, but I can think of nothing save the General.
Our Emperor appears, seemingly from nowhere. Leo falls immediately to his knees, but their communication distresses him. He stands and backs away, and I see the confusion and anguish written into his face. Again I try calling to him, but my mouth is metallic and dry. This must be a trick; Gestahl would surely not be witness to this massive injustice. And yet there he is, amidst this Armageddon, in perfect calm. My mind is suddenly filled with clarity, and existence melts back in some cruel twist of fate, allowing me to overhear Leo's words.
But… my liege… what have I been fighting for?
I can't breathe. This is everything in ruins. All we have ever believed.
Leo sees the shadow of Kefka. He does nothing. He chooses death over the tragic reality that is the alternative. To see courage fail like this, to watch those four gleaming swords fall from lifeless hands, is more than I can bear. Screaming, I tear myself from the burning streets and lunge towards them, but something breaks inside me. I crash back down in a flurry of pain and hopelessness, and the last thing I see before blackness swallows me is Leo.
The cold blue eyes of a martyr betrayed.