Within Reach Chapter 22

What Dreams May Pass

I don't own Chrono Trigger, or any content. Square Enix has it all. Warning: rape and violence are topics.

"You wanted to know what happened to me after I was thrown to the mercy of time?" Magus stated, knowing it wasn't really a question. His voice was a deep intonation, lacking warmth.

Schala nodded her head, needing to know what had happened to her little brother. What had changed him so into the man that stood before her. She realized that he wasn't the man that he was accused of being downstairs just hours ago, but that didn't mean he hadn't been that man before. She had to know who the man who had her heart was and is.

Staring at his sister, her eyes focused on him, Magus took a deep breath. He was perched on the windowsill, the moon illuminating his form, bleaching all but his eyes. Those stayed a crimson depth. It made his angular lines sharper. He was a marble statue, only belied by his breathing. They stayed silent for minutes, while he gathered his thoughts, thinking of how to tell her. What to tell her. All of it? Most of it? The parts that affected the world? Should he keep in the parts that added to his suffering? His thirst for revenge?

Eventually he needed to start. The shadows around him seemed to deepen as he took a deep breath. "When I was torn away in the Ocean Palace, I was sent to 600 a.d. The time Glenn is from." He couldn't keep the distaste from his voice at mentioning the knight's name. "I was alone in the woods and there was no sign of people for days." He was studying his hands as he spoke, gloved as they were once more. A silent testament to how he had changed physically, if not mentally. "I was half starved and had only had stream water when the Mystics found me." He paused and watched as Schala slowly nodded in understanding, although there was some confusion in her eyes. "Mystics are the races of beings I spoke of in the past, the ones who choose their race as they grow?" There was more nodding at this. "They were a lot more hostile to humans than they are now. The only reason I was kept alive was because my odd colouring made them question my humanity. This didn't last, as I appeared weak, and they had never seen a Mystic like me anyhow." He paused here, not used to speaking so much uninterrupted. Schala's attention was rapt upon him, silent and waiting, knowing better than to ask questions until he was done. So far it didn't sound world-rending, but this was only the beginning.

"Once they decided I was easy pickings, and brought to their leader, Ozzie, they decided to kill me. I guess that is when my magic potential finally awoke." Magus remembered being tired, hungry, thirsty, and his world being rent. The unfairness of it all, and the deep desire to go home and to the only person he cared about, then and now. The power exploding from him, killing most of the imps who had approached with deathly intent. "I accidentally killed my would-be murderers, and since Ozzie knew humans couldn't use magic, he decided to keep me, if only for my untapped potential. He knew I couldn't possibly be human if I could cast spells." He kept going past the small intake of air Schala had made at him beginning his killing career at the tender age of six. He grinned, a sardonic, unhappy thing, moonlight catching his sharpened canines. "They thought with training, I could become a good soldier to their cause. They were at odds with the humans before I ever arrived, and war was brewing, with or without me. Humans were distrustful of Mystics, who were second-class citizens and monstrous in appearance. Much like the Earthbound, they were looked down upon and mistreated." This gave Schala a basis of understanding. "The Mystics were tired of it and looked at humans as magickless cripples that didn't deserve to rule." Another pause. "That is the world I was thrown into. And magic or no, I didn't have a choice in how I grew up after being taken in by Ozzie. It was learn or die." This part was spat out. Memories he hadn't thought of in years were flooding back, bringing their nightmares and emotions with them. "They knew I had magic, I just had to learn to control it. Find out what I was capable of. Turns out it wasn't a problem casting, more so controlling the power. I had more of it than they could dream of, but I didn't know how to limit it. Then it turned out I could use multiple elements, and they assigned me to a man named Flea." He couldn't control the grimace this time, his face breaking into a snarl at the thought of the man. "I was eight when they turned me over to him, and he was a harsh teacher. I learned quickly under his tutelage, and I also learned that I would have to take lives to learn what he wanted. I was forced to kill both humans and Mystics by the time I was nine, and then I stopped counting death." Schala couldn't keep her voice down when she started to cry this time. She couldn't even imagine killing someone, let alone her once baby brother being forced to before he had even hit puberty. "I learned that I had a talent for shadow magic at that point, and that is when I started to change, and become more accepted by the beings surrounding me. Some accepted me more than others, and I learned quickly. I took in more than just magic. I was growing stronger, and they wanted me to learn to defend myself physically as well as arcanely. The only thing I needed from them was healing, because that is the one thing I can't do." He started to move off topic, and stopped short, realizing he was trying to distract himself from what was coming, distract her. He realized he was going to have to broach some subjects he only dreamed about now. Before he could begin to lead into becoming a mass murderer.

"I was participating in skirmishes by the time I was 13, and I was to kill humans with a weapon unless otherwise ordered. They wanted to make sure I could kill with my hands, not just from a distance," he chuffed a sound, supposed to be a laugh, but almost growl. "And kill I did. I was good at it, and I was growing fast. I no longer looked human, and I was becoming stronger every day. This caught Ozzie's attention, and he wanted a larger part of my education, to mold me into one of his commanders. He thought I was something his troops could rally to. Which they did. I was taller than most Mystics by 15 and was leading the skirmishes now. We would ambush troops on patrol, and usually I would take them all out on my own. I was becoming infamous, and patrols were getting larger as my notoriety grew." His face was a blank slate once more, and he could be talking about someone else for all the emotion invested in his voice. Schala couldn't look away from him if she tried. She was trying to imagine a life like his and couldn't. She was familiar with pain, suffering, and cruelty, but not the outright violence of his life.

"Then I caught Flea's fancy. He enjoyed how dangerous I had become, and his….appetites…" he stopped here, unable to go on. "I was raped by him one night, and that was when I couldn't take it anymore." Schala cried out at this revelation, starting to get up to go to him, when his hand raised, stopping her. The shadows were draping him, and the moonlight seemed to black out at this point. "Much like Dalton, I ruined his mind. He was unable to harm me again, and I took over the Mystics within a fortnight. Ozzie was no match for me, no one was. I became the Fiendlord in a year, and decided I needed to find a way to either return home, or to destroy Lavos." There was bitterness in his voice, and a deep fatigue. "I spent years learning how to summon Lavos and lying to the Mystics. I needed their help, so they believed I was summoning it for their benefit, and I waged war on their behalf. They had never advanced as much as they had under my lead. This is when Cyrus came along." Strangely enough, his voice softened a bit at the mention of the knight she had heard about from Glenn previously. The one that she could tell his hate stemmed from. "He found the Masamune," he heard her gasp in recognition of the two creatures that were melded to it. "He didn't know how to wield it, as he didn't have the magic to fully utilize it's potential. He and Glenn, that frog, challenged me, and I accepted. Cyrus let me know what I was up against, I he knew what he was facing. I killed him. It wasn't even a fight. Glenn couldn't take it, and at Ozzie's goading, I turned him into a frog that day, and sundered the Masamune. Anything that could stop me or hinder my plans couldn't be tolerated." He bared his teeth at the memory, a sign of aggression. "My castle was completed soon after, and it was built for the sole purpose of summoning Lavos to me. I continued to wage war, and let Ozzie and the other Mystics run rampant, and only kept showing up for larger battles, so they would have no chance to slow down our rampage. We burned villages, killed families, blocked trade, and fought against troops that didn't hope to be able to stand against a unified front of Mystics, our magic overcoming them, and their anger fueling the fires."

Magus stopped for a while, thinking about his years in war, and his ultimate goal. "I have killed hundreds of people, of Mystics, of beasts and creatures over my lifetime. I became the Magus, and the humans referred to me as the Fiendlord. I was known for my cruelty and power. I was what was used to scare children into behaving. I ripped their world apart for revenge. And when I was at the peak of my power, and the summoning had begun, that was when Crono brought Glenn and the Masamune to me. That drunk knight had finally gained the impetus to confront me, and his magic had been unlocked, so he could actually use the Masamune against me." The bitterness was back. "I was defeated. Utterly defeated, but before they could kill me, my summoning had completed enough for Lavos to reach through. Apparently they thought I had created the damned thing." And this time he did laugh. A growling, angry laugh. "We were all pulled into the portal, and that was when I found myself home again."

He stopped his story here; he had been talking for what felt like hours. Schala hadn't said a word. She was just looking at him, her face tremulous, eyes large. He couldn't quite define what he saw in her face, but he couldn't bear to look at her. The black wind hadn't abated through is story, and still whispered in his mind. Schala eventually looked down at her hands, and he saw tears dropping from her eyes. His anxiety overflowed. He couldn't stand to watch anymore. He ran.

a/n: Hey! Did you miss me? It's been years and YEARS!