Hey! It's me again, Abbot Song, with a new chapter for Rebirth (obviously). I hope you enjoyed the first part as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm glad I was able to finish this second part before the end of school; I didn't want to leave you guys hanging for a another week and a half. Anyways, this chapter will reveal a bit more... Just know I don't own Square Enix, Final Fantasy XI, or PlayOnline, or anything related to any of those things, despite the fact that I wish I did -- Final Fantasy XI is such an awesome game. Anyways, enough with my blabbering and on with chapter two!

Fading darkness... Endless light...

There was a grand supernova of light behind the shut eyelids of the young Tarutaru. Upon this brilliant burst of light, the Tarutaru bolted upright, terrified. Terror seized her as she stared around wildly, frantically, as if looking for something forever lost upon her. Her lips fumbled for words to say; her heart beat faster with each passing second. Her emerald eyes glimmered darkly as despair overcame her. Where was she? How did she get here? A wool blanket was wrapped around her legs, and a soft chocobo-feather pillow lay where her head had once rested. Above her was a cracked white ceiling, and all around her were enclosing white walls she had never seen before. A wooden desk sat beside her bed, on which rested an empty bowl and a dirtied spoon. There was a wooden door at the other side of the room, which seemed so very distant to her...

Then it hit her -- a thousand sensations, all at once. She felt the hot wetness in her hair, the stagnant sweat droplets on her skin, and the drenched clothing that stuck to and suffocated her. She felt a persistent dryness in her eyes which stung her whenever she blinked, and felt an awful taste upon her tongue, as if dust had collected inside her mouth. Her wet locks of pepper-red hair tickled her forehead and behind her ears. The pain, though not intense, seemed to pulsate with the rhythm of her heart, causing her no relief. These sensations bombarded her, and, overwhelmed, she collapsed against the pillow.

The final sensation dawned upon her at that moment. It was a niggling, skin-crawling sensation that had enveloped her entire body, causing her to shake uncontrollably. It felt as if a thousand tiny mites were crawling beneath her skin... Suddenly horrified by this startling new feeling, the Tarutaru let out a scream and fell off the bed, rolling on the floor, scratching herself frantically to rid herself of the mites. She did not even care to realize that the robes had been removed and were replaced with simple linen garments she had never seen before. She raked wet nails across her forehead and down her arms, scratching her knees and neck, screaming in anguish. She did not think anyone would hear her in this white-walled prison she did not recognize.

Pain rocketed throughout her body as her nails were dragged across her skin; intense pain which overshadowed that of the skin-crawling sensation of mites. It blasted at every muscle and joint, and without thinking, the Tarutaru locked up and began to shake, as if gripped by some greater force. Her vision began to blur; the colors began to warp and fade... Her screams sounded less loud, dulled by the throbbing and uninvited pain...

She did not notice the wooden door swing open, nor did she hear the gasps of her onlookers. She did vaguely realize that hands were gripping her and lifting her from off the ground; she was unable to stop them, for her joints were still unwilling. They lay her down on the bed and removed the sweat-soaked blanket. She lay there, unable to move, pain roaring through her body like a wildfire. She heard murmuring from somewhere, sounding as if it were off in the distance...

Then, suddenly, the pain left her. The pressure that locked all of her joints and freezed all of her muscles vanished in an instant, leaving her gasping. The sensation of the mites was gone, and she felt a new, moist stinging all across her body in its place. Her vision cleared and her hearing was restored. She realized that the people in the room were talking amongst themselves and were not including her in the conversation; they were speaking about her, and expecting no response... as if she were some kind of animal.

"She looks awful, Kalista. Where in the name of Altana did all those cuts come from? She looks like she got mugged by bandits!"

"Well, judging from her fingernails... I'd say they were self-inflicted."

At this statement, the Tarutaru stared at her hands. Her fingernails were each tipped with crimson, as if she were fingerpainting a picture with all red paints. She knew that the thick red liquid upon them, however, was not paint.

"What do you think happened?"

"I... have no idea, Cressida. Resurrection is not meant to be a particularly dangerous experience; you're only supposed to be revived and stay that way. The fact that she fainted afterwards is not that uncommon... but the fact that she has spent the past three days almost completely immobile is. And this only furthers the peculiarity of this situation. Where did you say you found her?"

"By the cliffs in eastern Valkurm. She was... killed by a ghoul."

Killed. The word stung at the Tarutaru's ears. Killed. Killed? She was... dead? How was she here? Sudden images of the bursting light and the fading dark, all echoed by the agonizing pain...

"Luckily Ikudo-Makudo was able to resurrect her in time. We were afraid she would be another poor casualty of the beastmen..."

Resurrection. She had been revived. For some reason unknown to her, this word brought no comfort to her ears. In fact... it only brought enmity. This new pain, the hysteria of these new moments, had been brought along by that accursed word, she was sure of it. Something... Something was wrong, very wrong, like one of the people had said. This was not normal.

"I'll go tell Ikudo and Alectus. Kalista, please tend to her wounds, and fetch some warm soup. Also, get a change of sheets and some new clothes; she looks positively dreadful."

There was a shuffling of feet, and the voices vanished.

The Tarutaru was left staring at the cracked white ceiling, completely lost, each second lasting an eternity in her mind's eye. The world around her spiraled in her vision. Resurrect. Killed. Resurrect. Killed. For some reason, neither seemed more comforting nor more horrifying than the other; it was as if the solemnity and intensity of both words had disappeared from her understanding. What was life if everything revolved around death? What was resurrection if life were to revolve solely around death? What was the point of returning to a life only to die? Everyone had a day to die.

Had it been hers?

"Oh, woe is me! She looks positively awful-wawful!"

There was the sudden return of the footfalls and she knew the people had returned. She could hear something vaguely familiar in the voice that had spoken, as if she had heard someone like it before...

As if to complement this sudden realization, comfort arrived. Warm water pressed against the wounds, chasing away the pain they exposed. Hot liquid poured down her willing throat, purging her mouth of its acrid taste and soothing her sore throat. A cold towel was draped across her sweat-streaked forehead, and her drenched locks were washed in a basin of water and dried with a towel. After clean bandages were wrapped around her wounds, her wet linen garments were exchanged with fresh, dry cotton ones. There were words spoken all around her, but none that made her feel vulnerable or afraid. None of them were discernible; her mind was too centered on the pain that was slowly losing its grip upon her system. By its completion, she felt relieved beyond anything she had ever felt, and began to doze off.

"I wonder what her name is."

Alectus glanced over at Cressida, somewhat concerned, his thick brow furrowed in deep thought.

"I just realized... We've done so much for her, and we don't even know her name."

Kalista ran a hand through her silver locks, sighing. The Elvaan healer glanced over at her sister and the Galka and quietly said:

"She speaks softly in her sleep. Just one word, and only one word. I didn't think it meant anything until I realized it was a name."

"Do you think it's hers?"

Cressida and Alectus said this in unison, leaning forward.

"I suspect so. But I can't prove anything. She won't talk to us. She doesn't have the strength."

"What is the word?"

The two were persistent in learning this word, the word Kalista had heard, the word the poor Tarutaru spoke in her sleep.

Kalista opened her mouth to speak. It was at this moment that the Tarutaru's lips parted slightly, and a single word was whispered into the air:

"Seiruru..."