Chapter: The Beginnings of Prophecy
Disclaimers: I do not hold any claim over Final Fantasy XI or any other of the Final Fantasy games. The only character that I own is Ylinestra, my White Mage.
Summary: When the Shadow Lord strikes back at Vana'diel, one White Mage must discover the truth of the Four Artifacts, and their power in the Realm of the Twilight….for you, Ashy.
Authors Note: Here it is, guys. This is the promised story. Realm of the Twilight was written for my friends in Final Fantasy XI. I decided one day that I would like to make up a fictional story that included real people, somewhere. I appreciate all comments and reviews, but I am not seriously going to try and make this the best fiction on this site. Still, feel free to contact me with any questions or suggestions. This is for you, Ashy.
Side Notes: These characters are not the exact same ones as the ones in Final Fantasy XI. I mean that in respect to their appearances. As some of my friends chose the same characters, hairstyles, and hair colors, I have decided to change the physical appearances of some of them, including my own, Ylinestra. Just so you know, when you see a description of male Hume with green hair down to his feet, or something to that regard.
Ylinestra groaned as he awoke from the realm of dreams. His head was dizzy, for some reason, and he felt like he had run a thousand miles or so in cold weather. He had been dreaming, also. Dreaming…about a seed…and a woman with short brown hair. Who?...
Oh, it was way to early for him to become philosophical. Ylinestra shivered as he rolled out of bed, pulling his White Tunic closer around him, hissing as his feet traveled from cozy carpet to cold stone. He blearily made his way over the heating globe that was floating in the corner of his bedroom.
His hand encountered stone.
Snapping awake, he realized that his heating globe was missing. And so was the painting that hung over it. Ylinestra spun around.
He was not in his room. He was, in fact, residing in a one-room suite. Everything was high class, made of the best material and lavishly decorated in white a gold. His Staff was propped up on a desk.
Quickly snatching it up, Ylinestra tried to ignore to butterflies forming in his stomach. He wasted no time and bolted out of the surprisingly unlocked door.
Apparently, his room was one of the many in this seemingly residential area. Door after door appeared before him, before finally leading him to a straircase. Quietly, he stepped down them, slowly peering out into the large chamber it led too.
The White Mage blinked. He looked up at the Star Tree. He was in Heaven's Tower?
Seeing no one nearby, Ylinestra crept into the large chamber. Star Seeds pulsed in their baskets, sending silver showers of sparks with each pulse. The White Mage, now curious but still disorientated, was about to leave when a Star Seed at the very base of the Tree caught his eye.
Instead of the shimmering silver that the other Seeds boasted, this one was a brilliant gold. It seemed to glow with each pulse sending showers of gold sparks askew. Its fuzzy exterior seemed to ripple as Ylinstra moved closer.
The White Mage was entranced. Could this be the next Star Tree? It would certainly seem so. Its warm glow pulled him in closer….
Ylinestra mentally slapped himself. Of course, he had always had an eye for gardening, but now was definitely not the time. He had to leave. Slightly disappointed, Ylinestra was even more startled as a very large frame suddenly flung his Staff off his back. The White Mage barely had time to scream before his aggressor had pinned his arms behind his back, keeping a tight hold onto them. The assailant half turned Ylinestra around, the Star Seed giving him enough light to see his face.
Ylinestra stared at his captor in surprise. "Azazer!"
The Elvaan, too, stared at his captive. "Ylinestra. What are you doing running about the Tower?"
"Trying to find out why I've been taken here in the first place," the White Mage ground out, carefully shifting in Azazer's grasp. "What's this all about?"
The once smiling blue eyes were clouded over. The Elvaan shouldered Ylinestra's staff and steered him over to the stairs, keeping a firm grip on the White Mage's arms. "Now isn't the time. I was coming for you anyways. Marrok needs to see you."
Ylinestra growled as he was propelled none to gently up the stairs. "So he's behind this? What does he want with me?"
Azazer let out a loose chuckle with no humor in it. "Not just you. Be patient."
The White Mage glared but complied, walking where Azazer led him. The Elvaan walked him past the Star Tree towards the stairs he had just descended. However, just before the entrance to the residential rooms, Azazer steered him off into a narrow passage shrouded in shadows. Further on, the passage way was dimly lit by low burning candles. Ylinestra counted a total of seven candles before his captive stopped at a seemingly blank wall.
"Agrai methíri dös prakra, lasöt arma kriúnti."
All the candles blew out.
Ylinestra cried out as, suddenly, a hand gently pushed him into the wall. Instead of feeling cold stone meeting him, however, he felt—nothing. The White Mage screamed as the sensation of falling plummeted through his stomach, and he was almost sure he had passed out when he suddenly stopped.
Everything was still dark. Panting and sweating, Ylinestra quickly groped his way across the floor, sighing in relief as his hand encountered the edge. He slid down against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest to ward the chill that seemed to sweep through the chamber.
"Hit the lights."
Dull lights flooded the chamber, sweeping over Ylinestra and highlighting the room. Blinking his eyes, the White Mage could only gasp.
Blood was everywhere. All along the walls, the floor—bits of clothing were shredded across the entire chamber.
As Ylinestra's mortified gaze moved further away from his own position, he caught sight of lumbering shapes on the wall opposite him. One of them was moving.
"A little more."
That sickening voice again. Ylinestra caught the sound of chanting—Black magic, he encantations sounded like—before the lights flared brighter, illuminating the figures in the shadows. Ylinestra could not hold back his startled cry.
"Terralyn!"
-o00o-
"Hey everyone, I got some information on Mission 4-3. We'll need to investigate an old Elvaan living somewhere here in Bastok." Ashy scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "She's pretty reclusive, however, so we might have a hard time about it."
"I don't think that's your problem, Ashy," Knopfler murmured, grinning. "You're just put out that we won't have to do any fighting for once."
The scowl on Ashy's face increased. "And why not? Putting us on stupid jobs like this…."
Arbenzio waltzed in from the kitchen, peeling an orange as he observed Ashy. "Well now," he commented, choosing a seat near the fireplace, "this will indeed give us a break. For the better—we're all still infants in our new occupations."
At this, Ashy smiled, glancing over briefly to his wyvern Firewing, who was reclining by the fireplace, crooning softly as he dreamed. Nearly all of the linkshell's members had moved into the advanced jobs, using their old occupations to support their new ones. And Arbenzio's words rang true—it would have been unwise to rush into an important fight while they were all still learning to control their new powers and abilities. In fact, the only one of them that had not change from his path—
Everyone noticed as Ashy's smile faded from his face. Everyone knew what he was thinking.
"…How do you think he's doing?" Ticia asked softly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. The Paladin paused, before adding, "We…haven't heard from him in a while."
Ashy's face was turned towards the window.
Knopfler sighed, placing what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I bet he's doing just fine, Ticia," he said. "He's just tied up with all the political issues that go along with changing allegiances. It's not like Bastok and Windurst have been on the friendliest terms in the last couple of years."
Arbenzio nodded to the Bard. "That is true," he murmured, serenely fingering the scythe laid across his lap. "Windurst has always been distrustful of peoples from outside nations. Rumors say that they have incredible secrets they have guarded for centuries." The Dark Knight looked up. "Legend says that at the end of the Great War, Windurst received the trust of the Deity to take charge of an item that helped bring about the destruction of Vana'diel. Many have tried to claim such a powerful item—all who have, died. Some say that it's locked up deep in Heaven's Tower, guarded by the most powerful and fearsome mages and fighters in history."
"Helped bring about the destruction," Sylphyin quipped. The Ninja looked interested. "What do you mean, 'helped'?"
"According to the Legend, there is more than one item that contains the power to destroy Vana 'diel. They were created millenniums ago, by someone whose name has been lost throughout the ages." Arbenzio smiled mysteriously. "They say that this person has to power to Kill."
"Kill?" Ticia frowned. "I can kill."
The Moghouse erupted in laughter, Ashy finally turning around to face the rest of the group. The Dark Knight's smile died.
"Not kill, Ticia. Kill. The power to permanently delete a person's soul." (1)
The laughter stopped abruptly.
"I…I didn't think that was possible," Knopfler whispered. "There's actually someone that can Kill?"
Arbenzio grinned, showing his canines. "According to Windurstians, yes. They also say that this person killed himself with his own sword, evoking an ancient magic that gave his sword the power to Kill anyone it had slain. The Sword was named after the person, but has been lost ever since. No one knows where it resides now. Only that, on some nights, when the moon is full, the Sword will roam throughout the land, looking for souls to Kill…and when it finds one, it—"
Bang! The firecracker exploded at Sylphyin's feet. Screams erupted, Ticia leaping a clear foot from the bed to land face first on the ground, Knopfler flailing backwards, flipping his chair clear over. Arbenzio's bellowing laughter bounced off the walls.
"Whahahaha! Classic!" Arbenzio gasped, clutching his sides and falling onto the floor from the sheer force of his laughter. "The Sword is coming to get you—ha ha—your souls are in danger—ha ha—everyone take cover!—ha—"
Arbenzio's eye twitched as Ticia stood up slowly. The scrap of metal against metal as a sword was drawn sent everyone's hair on end.
The man and the women standing outside the Moghouse shook their heads wonderingly as first laughter, then screams, and finally blood-curdling cries of "Help me!" wafted to them. Glancing at each other as sounds of breaking class and splintering wood reached them, they quickly linked arms and walked away into the night.
-o00o-
She looked terrible. Dressed in only stained rags that barely covered her, Terralyn looked as if she had been sick for ages, and hadn't been fed well at all. Her once fair skin was now bruised and muddied. Dried blood ran along her arms and legs, and her left ankle was swollen and purple in color. Her right arm was also held at a strange angle, giving the impression that it was broken.
"T…Terralyn?" Ylinestra whispered. He received no reply. Standing shakily, the White Mage moved closer to the Red Mage. No hint of recognition or realization entered her dull eyes.
Once an obscure member of the linkshell, Terralyn had gone missing months ago. Alligned to San d'Oria, they had taken her absence with worry but acceptance, after she had mentioned her busy schedule and recent increase in missions. As the weeks had progressed into months, her name had faded from their memory.
Ylinestra swallowed as his forced himself to sit on the bloodied floor next to the woman. She continued to stare straight ahead, swaying slightly from side to side. The White Mage carefully murmured a Cure IV spell for the Red Mage. Watching expectantly, Ylinestra was surprised to find no ounce of healing on her body what so ever.
"That's useless, my White Mage. She's been touched by forces unknown to mortals."
Ylinestra glared hatefully up at Marrok, who was looking down at him from about 15 feet up. At that height, the stone chamber transformed into seven feet high glass, before closing into a stone ceiling. "What have you done to her?"
Marrok raised his chin. "That is of no concern to you, my dear Ylinestra. In fact, she is overdue. Guards."
A dull creak sounded throughout the chamber as two enormous doors that stretched all the way to the glass surroundings opened, admitting three guards inside. Ylinetsra immediately leapt up, but one of the guards stepped forward, backhanding him across the face and sending him flying. Shaking the stars from his eyes, Ylinestra was able to realize that the guards were dragging Terralyn's body out.
"No!" he cried, leaping up once again. The guards barely gave him a glance as they closed the steel doors, Ylinestra flinging himself against them.
"Do not worry, Ylinestra. She will be resting now." Marrok flicked imaginary lint of his shoulder. "Forget about her. We had better get started on you."
Four Black Mages stepped up to the glass above, their faces completely shrouded by their hoods. One seemed to be a Tarutaru, another an Elvaan, the other two Humes or Mithras. Ylinestra couldn't hold back his small moan of fear as they began chanting.
Whatever they were going to do, they were going to start with his mind. A White Mage's strongest point was his Mind. He had to remain calm. If he could withstand the mental pain, then the following physical torture would be less severe to his subconscious. He needed—
"I'm sorry, we can't be friends anymore."
The White Mage gasped. Arbenzio? He…he was home? Sitting in his Moghouse and…and yes! There was Arbenzio. His friend, his mentor, his companion, sitting by the fireplace. But…he was talking with someone. It looked like…a Mithra? White silver hair, white ears and tail.
Her ears…they were drooping.
"Time…time isn't enough."
Ylinestra's mind screamed at him suddenly, and he was wrenched back into the chamber. He had fallen into their trap. They were only forcing him to see someone taken out of his memory in a negative scenario.
"Hmm. Increase negative energy by parameter 10."
There they were again. No…Arbenzio was standing now, facing away from the Mithra. Her cheek was bruised…had Arbenzio hit her? The Mithra had tears in her eyes now.
"…Quite frankly, I'm disgusted with you."
The Mitrha gasped, unshed tears spilling down her face. "Arben…Arben, please. I…I didn't know, I didn't mean…"
"Liar," Arbenzio hissed suddenly. The fire reflected of his eyes—Ylinestra had never seen such hate, not from anyone. "I…I told you things…I confided in you…and you…you're a…you're disgusting…" Arbenzio's eyes had turned red. "I can't believe it…I…I won't believe it! You lied to me! You disgusting, deceiving wretch! That's all you ever were!"
"No Arben, please!" the Mithra cried. The Dark Knight had unsceathed his sythe, and was heading straight for the Mi—
No…Arbenzio was headed straight for him.
"Die, you wretch! You lying snake! I trusted you! I trusted you!"
"No, Arben, please!" Ylienstra screamed, flinging up an arm instinctively—
-o00o-
"Stop it Arben, stop!" the White Mage cried as blood poured from his arm. Crystalline tears leaked from his eyes as his backed away from—
What?
Nothing in the physical world, but whatever nightmare the Dark Mages had conjured up for him.
Which could be anything. Or nothing.
"Can you tell me what he's seeing?" Marrok whispered to the nearest one.
Skyee cracked one eye open. "No," she replied in a wispy voice. "Only he can see. Most often they see an apparition of their fear. Others see the past, and some of them see the future. But, whatever he is seeing, I can assure you he is suffering."
The Elvaan nodded once, and turned to exit as more blood leaked onto the floor, ever as the screams continued.
-o00o-
"You will have to free the Tengu," Eternatee whispered, her old, weary voice cracking slightly. "They are a tribe of indigenous Tarutarus that live somewhere off of East Ronfaure. It was by accident that I discovered their civilization, and by accident that I escaped with my life."
"Are they a dangerous tribe?" Ashy questioned.
"Heaven's no," the old Elvaan exclaimed, hold a hand to her chest. "They are as civilized and as cultivated as you and me. But, they are being oppressed by an old demon, who has taken it upon himself to rule that tribe." Eternatee sighed. "I was documenting some flower species near their land when I heard the commotion. I crept upon the village and saw him. Great, massive thing. I had to leave…otherwise, no one would have ever known about them."
Ashy grinned. "So, looks like we'll be doing some fighting after all!"
Pairs of eyes rolled skyward all around the room. Knopfler clear his throat.
"Alright, we'll do everything we can do help, Miss." The Bard bowed to the old Elvaan. "Thank you very much for your information."
"I'm only glad there are still people who can care to help," Eternatee said. "Um…if you will, dearie…may I speak to you one moment?"
Ticia glanced around, then pointed to herself. "Me?"
"Yes, dear. Just for a moment."
Ticia nodded, slightly apphrehensive as the door closed. Eternatee stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, before speaking.
"Please dearie, when you arrive at the village…will you tell them, that Eternatee is sorry she had to leave, and that she couldn't help them?"
Ticia was slightly taken aback at the reclusiveness of the old Elvaan's seemingly innocent statement, but nodded her acceptance anyways. "Of course, ma'am." The Paladin smiled briefly. "I think they will be pleased to know you got away safely."
Eternatee smiled. "Thank you, dearie."
Ticia bowed again, before walking outside to join the other.
Eternatee own smile faded as she watched the bright young souls walk away from the window. She wondered, briefly, if the Paladin and Dragoon were involved. As she gazed at the energetic young man, however, she knew that they were not. Oh yes…she knew exactly who had his heart now. He probably did as well, but wouldn't be able to admit it to himself until a long, long time from now.
It wouldn't matter, though, when he decided to tell her. By then, it would be too late.
It always was. And would always be.
-o00o-
Ylinestra sobbed into the mattress, vainly stuffing part of the blanket into his mouth. They had given him minimal treatment after the torture, just enough to keep him from dying overnight and to get him through another torture session.
The White Mage couldn't even began to describe what he felt. He was a terrible White Mage—he hadn't had the strength to resist once pulled in, his Mind hadn't been strong enough.
No…not nearly strong enough.
What had he seen? Was this a foreshadowing of events to come? The Black Magic—or whatever it had been—had placed him into the mind of a Mithra. Had the Mages done that, or did he do it on his own? And what had happened with Arbenzio? Was he going to kill this Mithra, whoever she was? Had he already done it? And why had Arbenzio been chosen for his witness? Had the Mages randomly picked someone from his memory?
Ylinestra let out one great, shuddery gasp, before falling silent, his tears finally running themselves dry. He couldn't think too much on it. It was obvious that what ever the results, this torture would continue until they received what they wanted, whatever it was, or his body gave out. He had to prepare his Mind, now. Maybe tomorrow, he would be able to withstand better.
He hoped.
Sighing, Ylinestra dragged his painful body into a meditating position. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes to the window to take in the cloudless blue sky.
Which is probably the only reason he saw Carbuncle floating outside his window.
1—Can you guess what I'm meaning by this? Deletion of a character, is what this is in my story.
