The Darkest Hour
Who am I? Nothing here to give that word meaning.
I am lost. No place out there to have come from.
Riotously coloured thoughts flowering in my head before dropping their rotting petals to the flowing wind.
I see
a man sitting out in a desert, tending a small fire. The flames look like feathers ruffled by the wind. Suddenly the small circle of light around the fire appears to widen as the dark sands are lit up by a crimson light, and the man looks up to see that the sky is on fire. He drops to his knees and covers his head, and I know that he is making gabbled prayers to his god.
I hear
the sounds of a crowded summer market. I can hear every human voice, every animal bellow or squawk or shake its wings, every footfall on the parched earth, and each of these sounds is as clear to me as a single stitch in a tapestry. The human sounds die away like a round of applause, slowly at first and then quicker, and then the screams of women fill the air. The men shout in a language I cannot understand, but I know why they are shouting. As the sounds of a panicked stampede begin, the man in the desert is begging to be saved.
I smell and taste
the foetid jungle. The high pungent smell of animal droppings, the faint and sickening odour of the village cesspit, and overwhelmingly the almost physical smell of green things decaying into sweet earth. My mouth goes dry and I taste the sour remains of my last meal as the marketplace quietens and the sands begin to bleed. Then comes the taste of my own blood as I unconsciously bite my lip.
I feel
the icy wind on my face, the unrelenting and unceasing current found only in the greatest oceans. It pierces my headscarf and coat like a knife and I shiver and then grope for the flask hidden away in my breast pocket. What did I do to deserve lookout duty on a night like this? My hand freezes halfway through extracting the flask as I sense that something is terribly wrong. Hoping to quieten the thudding in my chest, I quickly raise the vessel and take a gulp of fiery liquid. It tastes like bile. The sky turns to a writhing, saturated purple and the screaming begins, and then absolute terror blooms in my brain and I know no more.
A single word comes to my mind as the simultaneous memories fade, but I know not from where it comes or what it means. Terra...
For a time I float, wrapped in thought that might or might not be my own. There's something I've forgotten, something to do with this mysterious thing 'terra'. For a single moment, a thought comes to me with the intensity of a thousand burning suns...
this isn't real it can't be real my mind
my memory
my soul
my life
they're all around me
no
they are not me
I am me
I am Kuja
I am God here
God of these little souls
...and is gone just as quickly. Kuja... There's something I've forgotten, and I think it's important. I struggle to unfold my mind, to make it think instead of allowing it to wallow in memory, but the memories only come faster. I am a summoner dead in childbirth, a rat dead in battle, a salamander dead in betrayal, a human dead in foolishness. A thousand lifetimes, a thousand years, and the whirlwind ceases and leaves me barely conscious. Once again, I float along. This time I do not fight. It will only lead me from confusion to oblivion.
Terra. Kuja. God. Who am I really? This place...
feathers tickling my skin
hair brushing my shoulders
dust and wind and hardness under my heels
...I don't think I belong here. But I can't find a way up to the surface. I'm drowning in my own memories, drowning in their gaudy quicksand depths, and all I'm doing is delaying the inevitable. Think. I must think, or I will lose myself forever. Remember. I must remember where to find myself.
A thousand years, a thousand lifetimes... to find myself...
I am here and only here, still as a tree and subject to the memories that blow through me like wind through branches, but perhaps there is some evidence of myself in this place, some echo that will lead me back to myself. I slowly unfold my mind, feeling it slip through centuries of dense and barely yielding memories, and begin the search for something familiar. For the first time since entering this place, I relinquish my mind of my own free will.
I sit in the great library at Daguerro, studying various maps of the world. The oldest lies in front of me, miraculously whole despite its great age. But it is not the neat forest of forgotten names that interests me, or the painstaking categorisation of the southern archipelagos, or even that the map accurately covers the entire world during a time in which sea travel on this scale was almost unknown, but the omissions it contains.
East across the ocean, half the world away, there lies a continent whose lower elevations are covered entirely by a bizarre mist that twists the natural world into unnatural horror and makes men turn on each other in madness. Far to the north-east, also half the world away, there stands a tree that has been mentioned in documents and literature for the last four thousand years.
This ancient map makes mention of neither mist nor tree, and comes a bare fifty years before their first mention. The blank paper that shows the western plain of 'Chaldea' is dismissed with the simple scribble: 'nothing'. The cartographer's tiny lettering covers the entirety of what is now called the Mist Continent, and in the fertile plains in the centre of the continent the names are crammed almost illegibly together.
I turn my attention to another map dated one hundred and fifty years later and the change in the Mist Continent is amazing. A few of the plains' larger, coastal cities remain, but much of that part of the map is left blank or marked with the admission: 'savage lands'. The scattered woodlands below the country of Alexandria
The city of Alexandria
have advanced roughly a hundred and fifty miles, gobbling up a hundred villages and a dozen towns. This map shows only sketchy details of the outermost continent, but the plains contain the message: 'sailors often tell of a tree rising from the very dust, that covers half the land with its roots. The idea is ridiculous but the details are consistent, and so I am forced to make mention of it'. I wonder if the two are related somehow?
I return to present with great difficulty, feeling sluggish and confused. Once again the word 'terra' rises in my mind, but other things in the old memory have captured my attention. The Mist Continent. Alexandria. A tree that covers half the land with its roots. All of those things are known to me, but I don't know how.
I think of the feeling of wrongness when Alexandria was mentioned. It was as though I had been listening to somebody talking and that person had slipped a nonsense word into a sentence without seeming to realise it. For a moment I knew the right word (or rather the right fact), and then it was pushed aside and buried as the memory marched inorexably onwards. Alexandria... That will be my next destination. I strike out slowly, trusting my mind to attach itself to something more familiar, and fade away for the second time.
The town of Alexandria is now only a day's ride away, and I
Pull away before I sink too deeply. I'm getting closer, but something's still not quite right. I fade away again, deeper this time, surrendering to the knowledge of my subconscious mind.
I'm going to die here, I know it, I just know it. I heard what happened to Burmecia and Cleyra and Lindblum but I was too stupid to leave Alexandria before it happened here and now I'm going to die like all my friends, torn to pieces by one of those huge stinking skittering monsters. I press myself into a doorway to catch my breath. God, it hurts even to breathe. One of them got me across the ribs and I think it broke a couple, and there's blood all over the place and I feel sick. But I can't stay here, I can't wait for the whole place to be flattened like Cleyra. I mean, those rat-people have always given me the creeps, but I'd never wish that on anyone.
Suddenly there's a huge explosion and the air is filled with a flaring red light. A few slates fall from the houses into the crush of escaping people, and I know the end is coming. The east gate is just down the road from here. I can make it safely if I run, and then all I'll have to worry about is finding a doctor. I dash out into the streaming crowd, arms curled protectively over my chest, and try to keep up. Being trampled to death would be far worse than being blown to bits.
As I approach the square, a flash of white by the fountain catches my eye and I nearly stumble in surprise. There's a guy just standing there! What the hell is he thinking? Well, bugger him, if he wants to stay here. I've got my own skin to worry about. I stagger past him, close enough to touch, but he's still staring at the sky like it called his mother a whore. As I reach the gate and elbow my way through the crowd there, I hear him yelling about enslaving Alexandria or something. He's touched in the head, he must be, the poor bastard. Well, I hope some kind soul gets him out of here before the place goes up. There's nothing I can do for him.
I finally emerge into the sweet night air and peel away from the crush of people so I can sit down. If I can just close my eyes for a second, I'll be okay. I slump against Alexandria's outer wall, feeling the comforting stone taking my weight even as it knocks the breath out of me in a burst of blue and white stars, and try to calm myself. Just a few seconds...
I come to feeling offended for some reason I can't quite place, and with none of the usual disorientation. Was it my death that caused the clean break? But there are more important things in that memory to think about. That man... the half-seen man in white. I've forgotten something... and I know it's important. Who is he? He looked familiar-- no, not familiar, but something more. And again that sense of wrongness, in the instant that I noticed him. If only I had had more time to study him, or given him more attention. I think he has some enigmatic connection to Alexandria, and I also think that finding him is the key to finding myself. I prepare myself for the final surrender, the complete relinquishment of all that is me to my hidden core of memory and mind.
Another night round... I don't know why I bother. There's never anyone around. I've been doing this for years and the only person I've ever seen is rusty old Captain Steiner. Yep, this part of the castle is so deserted that not even the staff are around after midnight. I might as well just sleepwalk through my shift, it's not as though it'd make any difference. There is one advantage though-- I can have a smoke any time I like (like now for example, I think as I pull out a fag and light up) as long as I remember to kick the butts under the carpets, and nobody'll catch me because there's only Steiner and I can hear him a mile off. Honestly, I don't know why the Queen doesn't make him get some new armour, or just get rid of him. He's a loudmouthed walking scrapheap and an embarrassment to the entire castle, and so are his ridiculous Knights of Pluto. I sometimes think they're only there out of tradition, or maybe to remind people why the women are in charge here. Still, I can't fault him for his devotion to duty, and the princess likes him. Poor girl... ever since the king died, the only person she's really got is that big lug. The queen just hasn't been herself these last few months-- she's been snapping at anyone who does anything even slightly wrong, and there's no way the princess could go to her in that state. I even heard she had a retainer thrown into the dungeons for arranging a vase of roses wrong, but I don't think she's that far gone... yet.
A single soft footstep from a corridor to the right shakes me from my usual zombie haze, and I quickly pinch out the fag and tuck it back under my breastplate. Did Steiner finally get some proper armour...? Nah, there's no way he could be that quiet, even if he was wearing pillows on his feet. Huh, wish I had a pillow under my head right now... My hand drops to my sword, ready for anything, and I step noiselessly around the corner to confront the intruder. My breath catches in my throat as I regard the lamplit apparition standing not ten feet away from me-- but after a moment I recognise the late-night wanderer and relax, feeling relieved and disappointed. My sword arm drops to my side and I stand at ease. "Good evening, Lord Kuja. I didn't know it was you."
"Yes, I gathered that," he says mildly.
This is the first time I've seen him up close, and I try and take a good look at him without him noticing. First time I saw him, way up on the queen's balcony, I thought he was a woman. I'm not the only one either-- everyone I've spoken to either couldn't really tell or thought the same way I did. Close to, he still looks pretty girly, but you can tell he's a man... though I'm not sure how. He reminds me more of a drag queen than anything, especially with that deep voice coming out of that soft, made-up face. I bet he's queer as a three-gil coin as well. Fucking freak.
What did you just call me?
My head swims for a moment, almost like I'm drunk out of my skull, but then I shake myself out of it.
Me...? But I'm-- no, wait...
Just the last few nights catching up to me, that's all. I knew I should've taken a day off after Molly's birthday bash... I look at Kuja anxiously, hoping that he hasn't noticed anything odd, and I find that I'm almost staring at him. My head begins to swim again, and this time I feel close to passing out.
Too forceful...
It feels like there's something alien inside of my head, trying to unfold itself. What's happening to me? Is it something that Kuja's doing? Oh shit, can he read minds or something? I look at him again, expecting to see him smirking at me as he sees that I know that he knows what I think of him, but--
Look closely now.
I must be losing my marbles. He stands perfectly still, like he's frozen in time, and the world around him is all blurred and vague like I'm seeing it out of the corner of my eye. I can feel the alien presence shuddering behind my eyes, which are now locked on Kuja's form in a search for...
Look closely, you addled fool! See what's really there!
...for the thing that is concealed. God, I can't think with this thing in my head! I can't seem to look away from Kuja, and my eyes start to water with the strain. As I blink away the tears, he looks different in a way I can't quite place. It's only for a split second, but I swear I saw a bit of rope or something round his leg as well.
The shuddering sensation sharpens into a white-hot knife inside my head, and this time it's pain that causes my eyes to water. Again, Kuja looks different, and I feel my control slipping away as the thing inside me forces my mind to focus on this altered image. For one single moment, I feel like there's somebody right behind me and taking a step forward, and then the swimming image in front of my eyes resolves itself into a stable thing, and...
I see the truth.
I perceive what I am to ignore: the slim sandy tail spiralling down the right boot.
I note what I am to dismiss: the feminine, voluptuous figure and the delicate chin and brow.
I learn what I am not to know: that the hair is blonde and the eyes are like shallow lakes in sunlight.
But I do know, and I remember.
I remember everything.
"I won't delay you any longer," he says, and turns to leave. In that moment I see myself as others would see me if they could see beyond the walls and veils of illusion I so carefully craft, see myself in the female body that Garland saw fit to entrust with my soul. It's a testament to the force of my magic-- and to the stupidity of others-- that I can pass as a man even while barely decent. Kuja (it feels strange to consider myself in the third person, but these are strange circumstances) is now at the curve of the corridor, and I watch him-- or her, it makes no difference in the privacy of my own thoughts-- sashay out of sight.
The conquered soldier shifts in the depths of my mind, leaving me as light-headed as she was previously, and I realise that her mind and memory will inevitably reassert themselves despite my rebuttals. The dizziness suddenly grows worse as the woman tries to gain control and continue her rounds, and I push her down in irritation. It's time for me to leave.
I open my eyes.
