Disclaimer: While this work contains a handful of original characters and concepts, the jobs they represent as well as numerous canonical characters, settings, magic spells, and items are borrowed lovingly from Final Fantasy and do not belong to me.
The world lies shrouded in darkness.
The winds die...
The seas rage...
The earth decays...
But the people believe in a prophecy, patiently waiting for its fulfillment.
'When darkness veils the world, four Warriors of Light shall appear,
Bearing crystals willingly given to stave off the forces of Chaos.
They'll set forth from Cornelia to restore the crystals' light
And end the cycle of Calamity that threatens to consume the world.'
CYCLES OF LIGHT
by T. C. Gander
Chapter 1: After A Long Journey
Though the world has fallen into ruin, the city of Cornelia stands proud before travelers from the southern shores, a symbol of hope for all who come to this kingdom in search of adventure and prosperity. Its signature landmarks: the finest castle in the southern hemisphere, low-level magic bookstores for novice spellcasters, and affordable housing for all who seek refuge. It is a place that marks the beginning of many a journey.
Walking north along the cobblestone road come three adventurers. Leading the way is a swordsman tall and wide, dressed in a red leather tunic and with well-kept brown hair. He takes each step with confidence and purpose. Following at his left hand is a fair woman in a white robe, caked in a thin layer of dirt. Bringing up the rear to their right is a figure in a blue robe and a pointed brown hat, face obscured by uncanny shadows. The mage clutches a wooden staff close to the shoulder and scampers with short legs along behind the warrior who towers overhead.
"Would you look at that?" says the warrior. "Cornelia, the most beautiful city in the world. I knew we'd get here in one piece."
"Yeah, it's beautiful," replies the woman in white with a dull sigh. "As soon as we get into town I need to eat and lie down."
"There will be time for that later!" the warrior exclaims. "The king's going to want to meet me."
"The king is going to want to meet the Warriors of Light," she corrects. "Four of them, with four crystals."
"Well, it's prophecy," he says. "He's a king. I wager he has one of the crystals and he's waiting to give it to us, and I guarantee the fourth Warrior of Light is already here waiting to meet up with us."
"Ever the optimist," she mutters. "What if they're not? Then we have two crystals to go and find before anyone takes us seriously, and we still have to convince some person we've never met to come with us because they're a Warrior of Light, too. How do we know this prophecy is even real?"
"Spoons says it's the real deal," he replies, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the tiny mage in the pointy hat. "And when has he ever lied to us?"
"I want spaghetti," says the mage in a boyish voice.
"I rest my case. The boy loves spaghetti."
"Consider me reassured," she says.
"I must say your attitude has been very dull today. Where's your usual adventuring spirit?" the man asks.
"I think I lost it over the edge of the boat, so some sahagins probably ate it."
"You threw up," Spoons reminds her.
"Thanks, Spoons."
"Very well, eat first, then the castle," says the warrior. "Between that and an inn we'll likely need to ask the king for more gil. We're hurting after all the money we spent on tents."
"Most people re-use them," she says, "instead of throwing them out every night."
"That doesn't make sense. Next, you'll tell me people re-use sleeping bags."
"You're right, I'm being silly." With that, the group talking stops for a while, be it for childlike amazement to look upon Cornelia for the first time since boyhood, lack of energy, or communicating almost exclusively in interjections and being denied a proper conversation to interject into.
While street merchants and shameless conmen attempt to goad the warrior's attention, their gimmicks find no purchase as neither he nor the white sleeve tugging at his collar bite. They continue towards the city walls where actual buildings lie. Cornelia is massive, with cobbled streets every which way and rooftops of red tile. The people here are active and sociable.
"What's the deal? Don't they know we're in the middle of a calamity?" asks the woman.
"This is ground zero," says the man. "'They'll set forth from Cornelia' the prophecy goes; people have lived here for hundreds of years just waiting for the calamity so they could be a part of history."
"That's weird."
"I cannot say I disagree."
"What about the crystals losing their power? How can these people afford to eat?"
"I noticed as we neared the city but it seems that the effects of the earth crystal failing have yet to reach these shores. The castle still stands. I must imagine the farmland still bears fruit."
It is not long before the trio finds a small café with chairs and tables under umbrellas around an open window, with indoor seating and diners faintly visible within. The woman opens the door and goes ahead, leaving it to fall on the warrior who huffs as Spoons scrambles past.
"Table for three, inside," the woman says to the hostess, who leads them away to the back corner of the café and leaves them paper menus and a pitcher of water.
"Eve, look! You can see the castle from here," says the warrior as if talking to a child at an amusement park.
"I've seen it," she replies, taking a sip of water. A waiter comes over to take orders: a plate of spaghetti, a medium-rare steak, and a quinoa bowl.
"Fear not, I can get us inside," he says. "They'll remember me."
"Hard to forget," Eve says. The swordsman begins shifting in his seat restlessly. Eve sets her hand down firmly and says, "Clastor. You're shaking the table."
"Apologies," he replies. He reaches into his pocket and produces a dull yellow rock. "I was sitting on the crystal."
Clastor places his crystal on the table. The sun hits it and bounces light directly into Eve's eyes. She reaches across and turns it until the sunbeam points past her.
"I keep mine in my hat," says Spoons, taking a hand to either side of his brim and lifting the lid on a dormant red rock sitting quietly on his inexplicably unlit head.
"Maybe put those away," Eve suggests. "I'm sure plenty of people would like to take those to the king and say they're the Warriors of Light."
"They can't carry themselves the way I do," the swordsman says. "Any king would see right through it." Nonetheless, he takes the crystal back and stuffs it in his front pocket.
Soon, their food is in front of them. No words are said as the three of them dig in with the ferocity of adventurers who haven't had a real meal in days. The tiny mage belches.
Clastor looks over at him. "Spoons."
"Sorry."
Clastor shakes his head and says, "I suppose if you have it in your system, best to get it out before we reach the castle." Spoons punctuates this statement with an affirmative burp. Clastor turns his attention back to the last bite of his steak and is careful to savor it. He takes his paper napkin to the corners of his mouth, folds it loosely, and sets it to the left side of his plate while the utensils lay parallel on the plate.
"That was exactly what I needed," sighs Eve with the first hint of contentment since the group made landfall.
"I've got the check when you're ready," the waiter tells them.
"My thanks," Clastor says, taking it off him and glancing at it as the waiter walks away. "Well, an inn is out of the question."
Eve takes the check from him and looks at it. "No thanks to your steak. I'll let you ask the king for money."
"Worry not," he replies. He takes out his pouch of gil and empties it onto the table. He takes two coins and returns them to the bag. Eve hands the check over, and gracefully Clastor flips the rest of the gil over onto the paper and places it neatly at the edge of the table.
"Are you ready, Spoons?" asks Clastor.
"Ready." They stand. Clastor and Eve push their chairs up. Clastor nudges Spoons, who follows suit and then rushes ahead to be the first out the door. Eve feels Clastor's hand at the small of her back as he holds the door open for her. She bears a subtle smile for the first time in what seems like days and steps outside.
Clastor nods towards Castle Cornelia, now framed in gold by the setting sun.
"Shall we?"
At the foot of Castle Cornelia is a gate of gold spirals climbing clockwise up silver bars offset on either side by two guards in red and silver armor with bronze helmets. They clutch spears in one hand and blue-bannered shields in the other, standing not at attention but rather chatting away casually with one another.
Clastor approaches with his companions at his side.
"Greetings," he says to the soldiers. "I come to request an audience with the king."
The soldier on the left asks, "What's your business here?"
Clastor produces the crystal from his pocket. Spoons looks up at him, then back to the soldier, then reaches up and grabs the crystal from underneath his hat.
"We are the Warriors of Light," says Clastor. "We come bearing two of the crystals." The soldiers look at each other. They slyly smirk and point at each other.
"Ahhhh, damn!" says the one on the right.
"Is there a problem?" asks Clastor.
"We were wondering when you were gonna show up," says the guard on the left. "Had a little bet about it. I said it'd be by the end of the week."
"How do we know you're really Warriors of Light?" asks the one on the right.
"They've got the crystals. That means they're the real deal. You gotta pay up." The guard on the right chucks his spear gingerly aside and begins fumbling for his coin purse.
The guard on the left unlatches the gate and pushes it open. "You can go on ahead," he says. "Biggs, lead on."
The trio makes their way through the gate and follows a third guard from inside the gate to climb the tall, tall steps before them. He leads them to a spiral staircase where they climb to the second floor. In the hallway are a handful of guards, but none stand at attention. They're all chatting idly. Biggs approaches the door at the end of the hallway and knocks twice. The door opens, and straight ahead sit two thrones. On the right hand throne lounges the queen: a tall, thin woman dressed in a beautiful red dress, obviously the queen. A man in a thick red and white robe hovers over her laughing, feeding her grapes from his hand while she strokes his beard.
"These three request an audience," announces Biggs.
The queen covers her mouth and attempts to swallow the grape in her mouth. The king places the rest of the grapes in a dish and comes forward to get their attention.
"Step forward," he says. Clastor, Eve, and Spoons enter the throne room, and Biggs shuts the door behind. "I am King Stallard. What is your business here?"
Clastor drops to a knee (Eve and Spoons share a quick glance and then do so as well) and says, "I am Clastor Gorman, swordsman of Melmond and Warrior of Light sent by King Ackervale to restore the power of the earth crystal. These are my companions: Eve, white mage of Melmond, and Spoons, black mage of Crescent Lake and bearer of the fire crystal. We come to answer your summons."
"Warriors of Light then? You said you come bearing crystals?" asks King Stallard. Clastor retrieves the crystal from his trousers. Spoons, his hat.
"Just two," replies Clastor. "We had hoped you could help us find the other two."
"Curious, this prophecy," says the king. "The sage says that some day four Warriors of Light will come to Cornelia bearing four crystals. The news travels to every corner of the world, and those who want to be a part of history come from all over to bear witness to the fulfillment of the promise. My city prospers and becomes a haven for farmers, merchants, adventurers. Centuries pass, nothing. And then one day, the wind goes still and the waves grow tall." He folds his hands and begins to pace. "Who then should arrive but fell knight Garland, to demand my daughter's hand in marriage. Naturally, I refuse him, and before another word is said he murders my guards in front of me and snatches Sarah up to whisk her away to the keep he's holed himself up in for these many years."
"We should gladly confront this man for you, your majesty," says Clastor, head bowed.
Stallard says, "Precisely what I put out my summons for this past month. And yet, three weeks ago, who should arrive at my doorstep but a man cloaked in red? One bearing a crystal and calling himself a Warrior of Light at that."
The trio looks up.
"You say a Warrior of Light was here?" asks Clastor.
"That he was," Stallard replies. "Not only that, but a week later my daughter is returned to me. Garland has been defeated, the princess unharmed. The whole kingdom celebrates her return."
"That's excellent! And the other Warrior of Light is here?"
The king shakes his head, "I'm afraid not. Shortly after he arrived, the bridge to the north of the city collapsed, stranding him here and separating him from his ship. He arrived on a boat in Pravoka, see, and traveled on foot from there til he reached Cornelia. We began repairing the bridge at once, but as of two days ago the repairs were completed and he was free to go about his journey."
"So he's on his way to Pravoka?" asks Clastor.
"On his way? Since moved on? I cannot say," replies Stallard. "The path has become unwieldy since the calamity began, overrun with monsters and choked with vines. It was once a day's journey, now likely many more. I should think three Warriors of Light could outpace one, but you'd best leave at daybreak."
The queen at the throne behind them leans to the side to see around her husband. "Do your knees not hurt?" she asks.
"What? Oh, yes, please, on your feet," the king says. The three travelers look at each other and get to their feet.
"We can do that," Clastor says. "But I think you said the other Warrior of Light had a crystal? Not two?"
"That is correct," Stallard replies. "It seems you're one short." Spoons looks up at Eve; she shrugs. "If it should turn up here soon, I should of course have it sent on to Pravoka to meet you. Otherwise, I'm afraid this complicates things greatly."
"We'll keep an eye out," says Clastor. "Thank you for all your help."
Spoons interjects, "Hey, we need money!" Clastor and Eve freeze.
"You need money?" the king asks.
Clastor replies, "Well, my friend could have said so with a little more… courtesy, but yes your majesty, we spent the last of our gil to feed ourselves."
"Very well," the king says. He motions to a guard at the door, "Wedge! Pay these three." The guard steps forward, producing a purple and gold coin purse. He reaches out to Clastor and hands him the whole thing.
"That's 500 pieces of gil," says Wedge. "It'll be enough to put you up for the night and purchase some travel essentials."
"This is perfect," says Clastor. He turns to the king and bows. "Thank you for your kindness, your majesty. It is always a pleasure to come to Cornelia."
"You have my blessing, Warriors of Light. Give Ackervale my best, fulfill Lukahn's prophecy, and restore balance to this world."
Eve rummages through a drawer in her room at the Grand Cornelian inn on the west side of town, alone for the first time in weeks. She takes a cloth from within and dips it in the water basin nearby, finally scrubbing the grime of adventure from her face by candlelight. It is then she notices her dirty fingernails and is reminded of the layer of dirt adorning her robe. She sets the washcloth on the dresser and with a tug at her collar pulls the robe over her head. She swats at the fabric with her hand to pat out the outer layer of dust. Standing there in her underclothes, she begins chanting quietly, reciting a simple cleaning spell that begins to separate the dirt from the garment.
There are three taps on the door, startling her. She clutches the robe to her chest and slowly creeps towards the door.
"Who is it?" she whispers from within.
"It's me," comes the quiet voice of Clastor from the other side. She opens the door. He launches himself inside and shuts it behind, turning the lock. He is shirtless, clothed only in the shorts he wears beneath his leather armor. His physique is unparalleled.
"Get lost on the way to your room?" she asks cheekily.
"Yeah, just came to ask for directions," he replies, grabbing her around the waist and pushing her against the nearby wall. The robe falls to the floor.
"You're in the right place," Eve replies, her face inches from his.
"You sure?" he asks.
She rolls her eyes and looks back at him with a coy smirk. "For now." Clastor leans in and lightly kisses her mouth.
"Finally got you alone again," he says, grasping at her damp hair and pulling it aside roughly.
"Better make it count then," she sighs as he breathes down her neck. She gasps as he puts his lips to her décolletage, then lets out an approving titter. She picks her legs up and wraps them around his hips, held there against the wall with ease while her thighs rest on his forearm and palm.
He leans for her ear. "We have a lot of catching up to do."