The young man is tossed through the tumultuous darkness.
No light.
No air.
Just warmth, claustrophobic in its intensity.
He spins...and spins...and spins...
The chains beat gyroscopically around him.
Flecks of ooze fly off into black.
His arms wrap around his waist.
Then...
A town comes into view, painted muddy red by the dull sunset.
Half-eaten houses and wilting trees compose this sad ghost of a settlement.
A murky fountain bubbles out the rest of its life in the town plaza.
He floats closer to a building, imposing and stark.
People gather and chatter within and without.
He presses his face to a window...
And drafts right in.
…
…
…
The hall is crowded, as has been the norm lately.
Villagers wondering anxiously when Death will stop for them.
They are young and old, male and female.
Their attention is focused on a long wooden table at the front of the meeting hall.
Sitting in the center is a tired, nearly broken man—the longtime mayor.
There are five other men on either side of him.
Their appearances range from late thirties to early sixties.
But one stands out even as he sits unassumingly at the far left end.
Blond-haired and blue-eyed.
Spiky hair.
Still in the prime of his life.
His presence commands authority matched only by the mayor himself.
The mayor takes a gavel in a bony hand and bangs it once.
Twice.
"I hereby call...this meeting to order," he croaks.
A night wind rushes through and seemingly blows all other conversation away.
The mayor rises with difficulty.
His arms shake as he supports himself on the table.
And he begins to speak.
"As many of you well know, the Tolbians made...unfavorable demands of us a few days ago," the mayor says, slow and deliberate in his speech. "They ask for an answer as soon as possible. Thus, the subject of our discussion today. We will run through the possible courses of action and formulate a solution. In three days...we shall vote...on our final answer to the Tolbians."
There is a startled murmur from the villagers.
"Don't we usually get two weeks to consider before voting?" a woman asks.
The mayor looks sad. "The Tolbians are...much insistent on an immediate answer. If we delay, they will take matters into their own hands." He sighs as furious whispers flit around the room. "With that, I open the house for discussion."
Immediately, about twelve or thirteen different people jump up and start screaming at the same time.
"We can't let those bastards push us around! We need to fight back!"
"I'm with Gavin! We have to kick their sorry asses out of here!"
"Yeah, but how do you propose we do that? Look at us! What the hell do we have? Nothing! Nothing!"
"Pfft...you young people! You don't see the strength within yourselves, the resilient spirit of Vale! We bounced back even after the collapse of Mt. Aleph! And we brought back a taste of the glory that was ancient Valeriam, the home of our ancestors, when we built New Vale! That spirit is all the resources we need!"
"Some resources! Like Emile said, we don't have anything! The last time the Tolbians charged through, they took half of our village with them! And I'm talking both supplies and people! There's nothing we can do!"
"You were always a coward, Matthew. You stood idly by while the Tolbians took your entire family! Couldn't even piss in fear because you were so afraid for your pathetic life!"
"Oh, and like you were any better? Selling off Maddie and Anne for 500 gold pieces each?"
"They were threatening their lives, not mine!"
"Come, now," one of the representatives chides gently. "Let us attack the views, not the person..."
"Shut up!"
"I don't believe those scumbags when they say they're annexing us in order to save our village. They were the ones who caused us to end up like this in the first place!"
"They're just trying to squeeze every last bit of juice out of us before they go on and rampage the rest of the continent."
"There has to be a way to fight back. There just has to! We have something they don't—that must be why they want to annex us! If we can just keep that from them—"
"There is nothing special about us, Ken. We have the things that any army needs: food, shelter, manpower, and a home base. That's it. And once those are used up, as they undoubtedly will be, we will be worth nothing to them."
"We're going to die anyway! Why not die fighting?"
"That's what Felix did!"
"The Gods bless his soul...he was a courageous, talented young man..."
"Hmph. Not to anger the dead, but as good of a heart as he had, he was an idealistic fool."
"What? How dare you say that about my nephew!"
"It's a free world, and I can say whatever I damn please!"
"I certainly applaud Felix's intentions, but...I don't necessarily think that he went about it the right way. That's why he ended up dead."
"Right, like a full-fledged militia wouldn't have any casualties?"
"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it!"
"We can fight back. I know we can. It might seem impossible now, but like Mr. Ezra said, it's all within us. It's in our spirits. I know that sounds overly sentimental, but any change that we're going to cause in our situation needs to start within us. We have to adapt the right mindset for change, for a better future. And then we'll be able to see our physical resources all around us."
"Ah, Ivan! So the young aren't so hopeless after all."
A chair creaks from the front of the room.
Everyone turns to look.
Isaac has stood up.
His palms rest on the table edge as he gazes out at the sea of despairing faces. "What is spirit now," he says, "without a tangible way to back it up?"
Ivan frowns. "Don't you think that contradicts the definition of spirit?"
"Maybe it does," Isaac answers. "Still...we might have this 'spirit,' but that alone can't defeat our enemies. You said that our 'spirit' will let us see the physical resources around us, but you're simply denying the reality of our situation! Our numbers are dwindling, both from fighting and starvation. We lack the monetary resources and favorable connections to do anything to push the Tolbians back."
The fury of an inner storm blazes within Ivan's violet eyes as he glares at Isaac. "Are you saying we should just give up?"
Isaac sighs. "This isn't giving up—it's simply biding our time for a while until we get a clear chance to recover," he says. He turns his palms outward. "Look, Ivan, I'm no happier with this course of action than you are. No matter how you draw it, people will get hurt. But if we try to push ourselves now, we're going to burn out. Vale needs to rest for a little bit."
"At this rate, Vale is going to be resting in peace," Ivan retorts.
Isaac inhales sharply. "There's no doubt that either of the two choices we have before us are going to be painful and costly. But if we want to see Vale thrive again—even if it's not within our lifetimes—we must bend to the winds. Fighting back in our state would be total suicide. I believe it would be in our best interests to do as the Tolbians demand, as severe as it undoubtedly is."
An old crone cackles. "As if there's anything more to demand from us..."
Ivan clenches a fist. "What kind of person are you, Isaac," he growls, "to let Vale cave in like this? I can't believe you! What would Felix say?"
"Felix gambled and lost!" Isaac shouts. "I refuse to make the same mistake he did! I want the course with the highest odds of survival for Vale! We can't risk more than Felix did, or we risk losing everything at the drop of a hat! We'll have nothing left...and we can't very well defend 'nothing'!"
The air in the room dies.
The two lock gazes with each other.
Ivan's eyes glow faintly purple for a second.
Isaac blinks and stumbles back.
A flash of understanding.
...Isaac nods.
"It...it is my final answer," he says.
Ivan looks away, sadness washing away any anger he had.
Outside the window, a slender figure listens in.
She catches the turn of Ivan's head.
Her emerald eyes narrow.
And she disappears with the wind.
Inside, the debate continues...albeit a little more subdued than before.
…
…
…
Two hours later, the people disperse, heading for homes that are barely there and families that are torn asunder.
Any warmth that remains in this town comes only from tears.
Isaac is one of the last to leave the meeting hall.
"Isaac," the mayor says, beckoning.
Isaac looks over his shoulder.
The mayor coughs. "I w-would just...like...to thank you...for agreeing to not fight the Tolbians..."
Isaac's face softens. "You're still unwilling to possibly come up against Garet."
The mayor nods.
Isaac runs a hand over his face. "Mayor...I didn't do it for Garet. He's still my best friend, and I certainly don't wish any harm on him. But right now, I'm only thinking of what would be in the best interest for Vale...whatever would allow Vale to survive as long as possible until we find better opportunities."
The mayor chuckles. "You realize that many Valeans would be willing to take you up on your ideas? They absolutely admire you, for going on your quest all those years ago..."
Isaac shakes his head, embarrassed. "Just because I went on a journey to fix a wrong doesn't mean I know anything about politics or running a town or anything like that. I just love my home. It's broken and battered now...and I'll do anything to fix it."
"Well, that's a fairly big reason as to why they adore you. And they need a beacon of hope, someone to cling to. You provide that."
"Well, a lot of other people are rallying around Ivan, too," Isaac says, grinning a bit. "Can't say I blame them, though. Ivan's grown a lot since he came to live here. It's hard to believe he was such a meek guy when I first met him. And now, here he is, gathering followers and voicing his opinions...a leader..."
A sad silence.
The mayor sighs, his beard rustling with his breath. "When we most need to be united, we are the most divided...between two friends who went on the same journey and dealt with the same hardships."
Isaac glances down.
His hands touch his yellow scarf—still a companion from the first time he put it on eight years ago.
"This is a time of war," Isaac says solemnly, though it looks like even he can't believe the reality of his own words. "War implies sides...and sides within sides."
"We take sides now," the mayor says, turning away, "but we all go to the same end eventually."
Isaac is silent.
He proceeds to step out the door—
"Isaac, how much do you remember of the history of Valeriam?"
Isaac blinks and ponders.
"Do you recall anything about when the Ankohlian army tried to seize Sol Sanctum for their own?"
"Barely. Why do you ask?"
The mayor thoughtfully runs a finger down the wood wall next to him. "Valeriam was ravaged in the first wave of attacks from Ankohl. I daresay it was sheer will on the part of the sanctum priests that the Valerians were able to drive back the Ankohlian forces." He glances out the window. "Not long after, King Shesut-mah of Ankohl issued an ultimatum to Emperor Marius III. Can you guess what that ultimatum was?"
Isaac takes a breath. "To join...or to die."
"Do you remember what the emperor's response was?"
A pause.
Isaac shakes his head.
The mayor laughs. "I don't remember either."
Isaac stares unbelievingly at the mayor.
The mayor smiles grimly. "But maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe, regardless of what decision we make, Vale will endure...because history is repeating itself in an endless loop of Time."
Isaac is silent.
"Good night, Isaac."
"G-good night, Mayor."
A bit flustered, Isaac bows and exits.
…
…
…
Isaac steps out of the hall, closing the heavy door quietly behind him.
He looks up at the night sky.
He watches him, unmoving.
Wondering.
...the chains clatter.
He trips a bit and follows after Isaac.
Down the steps and up the dusty road.
Pacing a lonely cadence.
Night has fallen, but New Vale still retains a sanguine stain.
He struggles after him, sweating and panting.
The chains grow heavier with every exhalation.
Isaac stops at a humble, one-room cottage by the river.
He enters.
The darkness is blinding, but he finds his way to his bed.
He sits down.
Lies down.
He presses the back of his hand to his forehead and stares at the ceiling.
The young man stands some distance away, his lips thin.
He pulls his chains closer to him.
Isaac sits up again and feels around for the bedside drawer.
He clutches at the knob and pulls it.
His hands draw out a flask of ale—a small, superficial comfort, and a constant one for months now.
He takes a few sips.
It's slightly bitterer than usual.
But Isaac attributes that to his mood.
He smiles thinly.
He gazes outside...not that there is much to gaze at.
Isaac then spots a shadowy figure treading the path to his cottage.
Curious, he gets up, lights an oil lantern, and raises it to the window.
He joins Isaac at the window and looks out.
Ivan stares back at him, startled by the light.
"Ivan?" Isaac says. "What are you doing out here?"
Ivan simpers. "What, can't a guy pay an old friend a visit? I'm just here to check up on you."
Isaac laughs. "As you wish." He unlatches the door and lets Ivan in, taking his cloak from him. "You want anything to eat or drink?"
Ivan shakes his head. "I'm fine."
"Heh. It's just as well; I don't have much here anyway." Isaac plops back onto his mattress. "I'll have to buy some more things from Vault tomorrow—bread and such. They've got some surplus with the grant that Tolbi gave them. Here's hoping that the Tolbians haven't ordered them to refuse aid to us while we're still trying to give them an answer."
Ivan inclines his head.
Isaac suddenly notices the pallor on Ivan's face. "Ivan? Is something wrong?"
Ivan nearly jumps to attention. "N-no!" A pause. "No," he repeats emphatically, in a more normal tone of voice. "I'm fine. I just...I'm not here to talk politics with you, is all."
"Well, of course not," Isaac says, raising an eyebrow. "You said so yourself."
"Ah...yeah." Ivan sits bemusedly on a wooden stool. "I did say that, didn't I?"
"...are you sure you're okay?"
Ivan waves him off.
Isaac shrugs, though the concern doesn't leave his face. "It's hard on us all, Ivan," he says quietly. "This whole thing with the Tolbians is insane. And poor Sheba...it doesn't look like she's recovered from Felix's death. She's been trying so hard to shoulder his burden now, but I wish she'd come and talk to us about it...even if we do come from different 'sides' now." Isaac looked at his friend. "Does she ever talk to you, Ivan?"
"S-sometimes. She's been distant from everyone, like...like you said..."
Isaac smiles slightly. "For all the years of knowing her, she's still a mystery to me."
"Do you remember when we first came to Tolbi?" Ivan blurts out.
Isaac blinks, taken aback at the sudden change of subject. "Huh? Oh, yeah. There was so much going on, especially with Colosso season and all that. I'd never seen a place like that in all of my life! I wanted to see everything they had there, taste all the foods, play all the games..."
"Well, we got around to that soon enough," Ivan points out. "And when we did, we nearly had to drag you away from the Lucky Dice table."
"Hey, I was doing good, though! Better luck than Garet was having at the Lucky Fountain, at any rate."
"He won that cute kimono for Mia, didn't he?"
As the two friends continue to chatter about old times, the young man sighs.
He knows that this moment of innocence will end at his hands.
He takes a dribbling, rusted chain and pulls it up over his head.
He looks at it.
Then at Isaac.
He holds it tightly.
After a few more minutes of reminiscence, a tense silence descends upon the dwelling.
Ivan clasps his hands together and stares at them.
Isaac reaches around to untie his scarf. "I wonder how Garet is doing now..." he muses.
Ivan doesn't answer.
"I was really angry at him for leaving, before," Isaac continues. "But now I just hope that wherever he is, he's safe and alive."
Still no comment from Ivan.
Isaac suddenly notices that his hands are trembling.
His fingers fumble at the knot on his scarf, to no avail.
He tries again, shifting his head a bit to get a better view.
But his vision has become hazy.
He hobbles to his feet, his heart pounding.
He takes a step...and promptly stumbles onto the floor.
Shivering.
Sweating.
Isaac manages to turn his head up to look at Ivan. "Ivan..." he rasps. "W-would you mind...g-getting me some water...?"
Ivan's eyes are clenched shut.
He makes no effort to stand.
"I-Ivan?" Isaac asks, bewildered.
"I'm sorry, Isaac," Ivan mutters.
There's a gust of wind.
A pixie of a woman now stands next to Ivan, her face shadowed with melancholy.
Her golden hair is butchered short.
Her emerald eyes look upon Isaac with an unreadable emotion.
"Sheba?" Isaac gasps.
"I will not let Felix's dream die," she says softly.
Isaac's line of sight trails to her curled hand.
He can see the top of a small vial resting within her fingers.
And now he knows.
"The ale...you p-poisoned it?" Isaac hisses.
Sheba nods ever so slightly.
Isaac growls, both in frustration and pain. "Wh-what the hell is going on h-here?" he demands, eyes darting between the two Jupiter Adepts.
"Please, Isaac," Ivan pleads, opening his eyes again and looking at his fallen friend. "I don't hate you. We don't hate you. But..." He nearly becomes hysterical. "But I can't sit idly by while the Tolbians just take everything from us! Vale has become my second home—I won't watch it be taken from me!"
"Ivan..."
"I was there," Ivan murmured, "when they invaded Kalay. Lord Hammet and Lady Layana tried to bargain with them, tried to surrender to Tolbi and become part of the new empire so they could save all they'd worked for. And you know what happened to them?" His eyes flash angrily. "They died! They died a horrible, bloody death, and Kalay was completely decimated! Everything and everyone I'd loved there was gone!" He clenches his hands. "I won't let that happen again! I..." He swallows. "Gods, I don't want to lose Vale..."
"And y-yet...you'll g-gladly get rid of m-me...your friend?"
No reply.
Isaac shakily draws himself up on one elbow. "I can't b-believe you...you w-would throw our f-friendship away...for th-that?"
"Isaac, I don't want there to be another Kalay massacre! I...I don't want history to repeat itself! And Lord Hammet...and Lady Layana...they—"
"Hammet and L-Layana are gone, Ivan!" Isaac snarls. "There is no point in s-serving dead masters!"
Ivan flinches.
Exhausted by his exclamation, Isaac slumps to the floor again.
A breath.
From him.
Warm...and dead.
The ooze trickles eternally down his being.
Each drop counting down the seconds...
A few tears drip down from beneath Isaac's eyelids, staining the wood dark.
The final step.
The links fly—
And bury themselves in Isaac's heavy heart.
He trembles.
"I d-don't want to f-fight..." he murmurs. "I don't want to f-fight anymore..."
Sheba steps forward and kneels beside him.
"There's so many things we can't win against," she says. "We try...only to find ourselves beating at an earthen wall. And yet those futile attempts comprise life. Life is fighting back, struggling against the impossible odds that Fate has dealt to us. Anything else relegates you to the same plane of existence as a common pebble."
She lays a hand on Isaac's clammy cheek.
"I am sorry, Isaac. I am truly, truly sorry. We've lost so much now...made so many sacrifices...all for an uncertain, dim future."
"And is that any different from when we went to light the lighthouses?"
Sheba solemnly stands up.
"Perhaps." She looks at him ironically. "Because now...we destroy ourselves."
Ivan finally gets up from the wooden stool.
He approaches Isaac's prone form.
He starts to say something—
"Ivan...p-protect Vale for m-me...will you?"
Ivan freezes at Isaac's quiet plea.
He bites his lip.
He tries to blink back the tears.
"Protect...everyone...b-because I can't..." Isaac closes his eyes. "Not anymore..."
In an instant, Ivan whirls and flees the cottage.
With one last, sad glance back at Isaac, Sheba follows after him.
And then...
The last of Isaac's life dissolves into the nocturnal air.
His pale skin pales even more.
His blond hair wilts.
No more.
No more...
...struggle.
The young man draws a quivering breath.
The cottage crumbles away to warm stone.
The trees hiss into the sky.
And again the dust reigns.
Isaac emerges from the empty husk of his earthly form.
Naked.
Wet.
Glistening.
He blinks oozy eyelashes.
His azure stare meets with another one.
"Alex?" he asks.
The young man nods.
Isaac's mouth twists itself into an ironic grin.
"Well. Fancy meeting you here."
"I have come to kill you, Isaac."
The blond sighs.
The two look out at the same crimson sky.
The same endless horizon.
Searching for something they cannot chase down.
"If Life is fighting back, then what am I supposed to do here?"
A breeze hums.
"I am dead...but Death is not the end. Am I supposed to continue fighting here? To resist the pull of the cycle of Time?" Isaac's eyes settle on the chains coiled around his companion's body. "Are you fighting here, Alex? Are you fighting for something...or against something?"
Surprised at the question, the young man looks down at himself.
Chains rattling.
Blue hair dripping.
"What's the point of fighting if we have no chance of winning? If life is an endless struggle, is it all for nothing?"
"Can you accept that?" comes the reply.
Isaac shudders.
His hands mask his face.
And they part again, wiping away a mixture of slime and tears.
"...y-yes."
He sighs.
"It wouldn't have mattered what I did back there. The people that I love so much...and the home that I care about so much...would suffer anyway. It was, and always has been, a matter of Time. I tried to buy more, not knowing that...that there wasn't any more Time to speak of."
The young man stands.
Listening.
"I couldn't do it anymore—I just couldn't. I've been struggling for so long to protect everything...everyone...I loved...but I couldn't do it anymore. I lost too much." Isaac looks down. "It's like the mayor said. We're all cycled along to the same end. Fighting back or surrendering...it makes no difference. Even if it lasts here...the world of the living will come to a close as well. And nothing...nothing will remain."
The dust begins to gather at his calves.
"Ivan...Sheba...my f-friends...we'll all go to the same end."
Isaac tilts his head back to face the sky...then the chained young man next to him.
"You knew, then, didn't you?" he says. "That you only get one chance to fight a futile battle? That's why you wanted the power of the Golden Sun...to take ultimate control before it was lost forever. Am I right?"
A pause.
"...I don't know."
They let out simultaneous breaths.
Isaac faces the young man.
"I won't have to fight anymore, will I?"
"Not anymore."
"I can...rest?"
"Yes."
Isaac smiles. "Then do what you must."
The young man drags forward heavily, shuffling a multitude of chains.
He reaches out.
Their eyes meet again.
Isaac chuckles.
"You and I...we're so different. But here we are, at the same end, on the same road, gazing at the same scarlet horizon...running and running and never, ever getting there—"
The young man gulps and touches Isaac's shoulder.
"Rest..."
And Isaac's laughter is carved into obsidian forever.
The young man stares again.
He lifts up his chains.
"Do I fight against something...?" he mutters.
Suddenly, he's yanked back onto the rough floor.
The chains weigh even more on his figure.
More flock around him, garlands of oblivion.
They tug.
They pull.
They yank.
He's whisked through a heavy veil of doubt...
And the hot, dry air of loneliness.
