In no way, shape or form do I take credit for creation or ownership of the Final Fantasy series. That is the property of Square-Enix.
Swirling, burning, shrinking, exploding, tilting, screaming. Each of those words were so different, yet all so accurately described the state of mind of the young woman sitting upright in a ragged bed, looking about herself with confusion evident upon her face. She was still reeling with the news that had been presented to her before she had been left alone to dwell upon it. A year? Had she really been asleep for an entire year? It sounded so impossible, and yet... her caretaker was not one who would lie to her. She had known him since she was a young child, had always respected and looked up to him. Now he tells her that to his best knowledge, they are possibly the only two people left alive in a dying world; they are positively the only two left on the small island they occupied. Staring at her hands, the girl tried to remember what had happened, tried to recall her last moments before the darkness swallowed her, before the world had collapsed and begun to reshape itself.
She idly scratched at her forearm, the itch she noticed under her sleeve beginning to irritate her beyond belief and distracting her from her thoughts, if only for the moment. Glancing down, her eyes caught sight of a tattered rip in the faded yellow material covering her arm and she saw the thick linen peeking through beneath it. Yanking the material back from her forearm, she found old bandages tied around her pale skin, the scratchy material the cause for her discomfort. With trembling fingers unused to being utilized after lying still so long, she tugged at the knots until they finally gave, revealing a faint scar from a wound long healed.
It was true then, she realized with shattered hopes of the fallacy of her situation, it had to be. Her thin fingers trailed over the mark lightly as all her breath left her lungs in a deflating rush. She remembered getting that wound, it did not feel like it had been that long ago. It had been maybe four, probably more like three hours, before she lost recollection of everything when she had received the injury–a deep laceration across her arm. The bleeding had almost been impossible to stop; the bandages were tied tightly to force the bloodflow to slow and now the only thing left of it was a thick bumpy line of raised skin that marred the light flesh of her arm.
How she had remained unconscious for an entire year she knew not but her only guess was that she had hit her head, and with quite a bit of force. She must have knocked her head when she fell. It made sense though, when she thought about it like that. After all, that was the last thing she truly remembered: falling. She had been falling, plummeting toward the unforgiving sea below as she had stretched out her arms, reaching for those around her, anyone at all to latch onto to prevent herself from being alone. After being alone for so much of her life, she had finally found people who appreciated her for who she was, not for what she could do; but just as she had become comfortable with the acceptance, they were all ripped from her grasp, torn away from her slipping fingers.
Groaning at the throbbing in her temples, she pressed her fingers against the ache, longing for a way to sooth the pain that was settling in her skull. The pounding, however, was nothing in comparison to the deep rift in her heart as she pondered the fates of those she had known. Had they all perished in the fall? Or perhaps they had been saved like her, only to meet with a dying world and the crushing feeling of being alone within it. In an effort to push the troubling thoughts from her head once more, she looked up and out the small bedside window of the little hut she rested within, seeing a clear shot of the shoreline and the world outside for the first time.
Her mouth merely hung open limply as she shifted a bit to get a better view, the shock settling slowly in her befuddled mind. The thin grass trailing toward the dark sand was sickly greens and dead shades of brown, a perfect match for the cross between crimson and violet that stained the raging water, once clear and blue. The worst though, was the sky; the burned-looking, bloody sky where the few wispy clouds that could be seen held a wan orange hue that seemed to come from behind them; perhaps they were glowing from within, it was difficult to tell. The glowing sun as it sat high in the sky and far off did nothing to help the appearance of the tortured scene, having the same torched look that the rest of the landscape held.
She closed her eyes and turned her head away from the scene that greeted her outside, burying her face pitifully within her shaking hands. Her fingers found purchase in her thick hair, gripping it tightly as suppressed sobs shook her weary frame. The few times that moisture threatened to build and fall from her eyes she blinked it back furiously; she had not cried in years and she certainly wasn't about to start now. Taking a shaky breath, she rocked back and forth gently as the trembling in her limbs slowly abated. She continued for long moments of time that seemed to stretch on forever before her movements stilled and silence finally settled within the small abode once more, only to be broken by sardonic laughter. Cloudy blue eyes opened just a crack, peeking out into the room beneath her palms until she realized where the laughter was originating when she felt her chest rumbling with the action. She was the one laughing, laughing at herself as she acted so pitifully. Laughing at how fate could have been so cruel. Laughing at how ugly the once beautiful world she lived in had become. Laughing at everything and anything that came into her abused mind. Even as she was emitting the eerie noises they sent cold shivers up her spine, the sounds haunting and sinister to her own ears.
Never had her mind felt as troubled and torn as it did now. She simply could not accept that everything she had ever known was gone; destroyed in an instant. Taking deep gulping breaths, she gradually released her death-grip on her hair, shaking her hands to remove the uprooted strands that clung to her fingers as she sat upright once more. Forcing herself to the side of the small bed she rested on, she levered herself to her feet, tightly holding on to the bed frame as she fought to catch her balance. Her knuckles had turned white with stress by the time the room had stopped spinning, but for the first time in a year, she was standing, her weight supported upon her own two feet once more. The soles of her feet tingled at the feel of holding her up again after so long a repose.
Taking tentative steps, she slowly eased her way to the doorway, wary of the orange hue to the sunlight peeking around the makeshift cover for the rotting wooden frame. Seeing the state of the world through a little border was one thing, experiencing it outside the safety of the cabin was another. Having stumbled her way across the room, she now gripped the doorframe with one hand, leaning against the wall to take a deep breath as she shoved the hanging material out of the way.
The worn cloth fell in temporary folds behind her as her hand fell to her side, the bright sun burning into her eyes. Taking slow steps on her bare feet, she made her way outside at a snail's pace, looking all around her as she moved. The sight from the window had expanded, grown, swallowing her whole as she drug her feet forward with each small step.
The sounds of pained coughing and troubled breathing caught her attention and with renewed strength, she found herself running to the shore where her old caretaker was on his hands and knees, hacking. He had assured her he was well when he left! She tumbled forward with sloppy steps until she fell beside him on the dark sand, her arms coming around him to steady the old man as his body shook with the effort to cough. His movements stilled finally and she was about to sigh in relief, but instead stared in horror as he spat out blood-laden fluid from his lungs. He was definitely not well; had caring for her so long on this forsaken rock caused this?
Guilt weighted heavily on her heart as she leaned her forehead against his shoulder, frustration filling her as she felt his frail hand stroke her hair. She looked up and was about to ask him what had happened to him, he was so much weaker now than the last time she had seen him, but he stilled her with a slow shake of his head and the stern look in his eyes. He knew he was dying, that there was nothing to be done, no way to possibly heal him, and he accepted that. He not only accepted it, he had tried to hide it from her!
However, she could not accept it that easily, pounding her fist into the soft sand as he rose and returned to the cabin, leaving her alone outside in the blazing sun with only the sounds of the waves breaking against the shore to keep her company. Anger burned in her gaze as she glared out at the never-ending horizon, watching the rippling waves of stained water with a hatred she had never felt before as for the first time in her life, Celes felt truly and utterly helpless.