Mortal Sin

Chapter 8: Gluttony

Those who commit the sin of gluttony are punished in the third circle of hell. There they are ruled by the monster Cerberus. Forced to live in slush and vomit, created by never ending freezing rain, assaulting their naked bodies. Humans' propensity for gluttony can be seen in the many excuses for feasts they seem to create. It's why so many commit this sin. The bean-feast is one of these foolish dinners. Created for man to be a glutton. Fascinated with this sin, the Bean Feast King is a subject of many paintings. At least, that's what they teach in the Art History course at Garden.

His hand continued to glow for the remainder of the week. Squall found that Rinoa's magic was even more powerful than before—coursing through his veins. It was like a lifeforce inside of him, humming constantly in the back of his head. At times, it was difficult to control, and he would shoot off accidental spells when he was distracted or surprised. It reminded him of when Rinoa first became a sorceress. She would sneeze, and a meltdown spell would fly out of her fingertips. The other day in his office, his phone rang and he ended up setting a stack of papers on fire.

Squall almost always wore gloves, so no one saw the glowing, it also stopped them from seeing the spark of magic on his fingertips. As the glowing eventually subsided, the magic waned with it. The Commander finally understood what it felt like to be a Sorceress…and it was addictive. He wondered if he was slowly taking over Rinoa's powers via the Bond and Fhang Zeng.

But for now, he had a mission to do.

Balamb Beach truly was a beautiful place. Rare white sand beaches and crystal clear water. It was never humid, nor too hot, and the water was never cold. In short, it was a mini-paradise. No wonder the locals so fiercely tried to protect it from the rest of the world. It was their secret oasis.

Zell and Squall sat on the sand, their toes dipping in the water at a secluded end near a cave that would only appear at low tide. The sun was shining down on them. Pleasant and not too warm, as it always was.

The pleasantness couldn't mask everything.

Squall knew Zell sensed he was uncomfortable. In pain. Emotionally, physically. Though, as the Commander sighed softly, he took solace in the fact that his tattooed friend more than likely misunderstood the reason behind his fidgeting.

Hyne was speaking to him through his dreams. Squall realized that now. Each dream had been a symbol. A command—of what he was to do. Since Rinoa had the power of Hyne residing inside her, Hyne was using Rinoa as a vessel to speak to Squall. Though, he supposed that now that he had figured out how to draw from Rinoa, he had some of Hyne resting in him as well.

First, the dream of the Memorial where Rinoa promised herself to him, it was Hyne's way of telling him to build an altar to her. Then, the dreams of Centra, a warning of Cid's disloyalty. Hyne was wise, and had guided him to the orphanage. After confronting Cid, Squall knew that he was a danger to them.

And then, a few nights before, the dream in Balamb. Balamb could only represent one person in their lives. Squall really didn't want to be correct on this one, and figured he could at least try and sniff the situation out before he had to take action.

Zell was his best friend. Well, aside from Rinoa, of course. Out of all of the Fated Children, Zell was always the one he figured he would remain friends with for the rest of his life. He truly liked the other mercenary, no matter how annoying he could be.

He didn't want to be right about Hyne's message.

Let it be a mistake.

Zell cleared his throat. "You okay, man? You seem kind of…what's the word? Frustrated?"

Squall shook his head and looked up at the sky, closing his eyes. "I'm good..."

"You sure? You've barely said two words after you invited me here. I mean, that's sort of normal for you, but still." Zell shrugged. "If you invited me here, you obviously wanted to talk about something, right?"

"Whatever."

"I mean, I'm happy to hang with you and all…but two dudes sitting at the beach together in silence? That's a little—I don't swing that way you know?"

Squall rolled his eyes. Though the tone in Zell's voice made him pause. Was there something about Zell that he didn't know? He seemed overly defensive. Nervous, even.

Zell chuckled, glad to get somewhat of a reaction. "If you didn't want to talk to me in private, why don't we invite Rinoa and Lisa? Have some cute girls in bikinis to stare at while we shoot the shit?"

"Who?"

"Rinoa, dude, you know, your girlfriend?"

Squall pinched the bridge of his nose. "No. Who's Lisa?"

Zell stared at Squall like he was a tri-face. "Lisa. Dude. I've told you this, like, eight times. The girl from the library with the pigtails."

"They aren't pigtails."

"For the love of…" Zell jumped up and kicked the sand in front of him, before pacing around in circles.

Squall remained stoic, unsure of how to broach the subject he needed to. He needed to ascertain if Zell was a threat. A threat to Rinoa. To him.

Finally, Zell stopped pacing, standing behind the Commander, and letting out a deep, heavy sigh. "Is this about the graduation ball eight months ago?"

Squall raised an eyebrow, but instead of disagreeing, decided to let this play out. He remembered the ball well, specifically because Seifer was there for the first time since the War. Zell had disappeared and Quistis left shortly after him. He had thought it a little fishy at the time—but he had been drinking that night and couldn't completely remember. What they wanted to do was their business anyway.

He stayed silent.

"I'm guessing Rinoa told you?" Zell asked.

Squall merely shrugged noncommittedly. But there was a lump in his throat.

"Okay, so she kissed me, right? We were all in uniform and she was plastered. I'm sure you remember that."

Squall remembered that part well. Rinoa spent the entire next day in bed with a huge hangover. "Rinoa kissed you?"

Zell rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Well, more like accosted me, yeah. She was all 'Squall, baby,' and the next thing I know she was making out with me. Then, out of nowhere, she pulls away from me and pukes in a potted plant. I tried to stop her, dude, she really thought I was you."

Squall began to laugh. And laugh. And laugh until he couldn't breathe. Zell stared at him in shock. The image of an intoxicated Rinoa trying to glomp onto Zell and puking in the middle of the Garden ballroom was too much. He wasn't upset at all.

After the laughter subsided, Zell sat next to Squall again in the sand. "You're really not mad? 'Cause I was anticipating a fight. Or at least a punch…"

Squall reached into a cooler they had brought with them and passed a beer over to him before taking one for himself. "Not mad."

Watching Zell drink the beer out of the corner of his eye, Squall merely pretended to drink his own.

Finally, Zell let out a long sigh. "Have you…seen Rinoa use magic recently?"

Shit.

Squall decided to stick with the non-committal approach. "I don't really train with her."

"Really?" Zell seemed generally perplexed.

The Commander shrugged.

"We go to the training center together a lot. Me and Rinoa, you know."

That came as a surprise. He had no idea that Rinoa regularly trained with Zell. There were many things, he realized, that he did not know about Rinoa. That much had been abundantly clear when he discovered the pills in her bag.

"Yeah, man, she's a great training partner, but lately? I don't think I've seen her use magic in over two months." Zell said, quickly finishing his beer.

Squall could tell that Zell was fishing for information. He wasn't stupid, and more important, he knew Zell was extremely smart. And an excellent interrogator. His "bro" persona was just that—an image. Underneath the happy-go-lucky, seemingly whiny, luck-starved exterior was a highly intelligent, ruthless interrogator, who was able to read people better than anyone else Squall had ever met. Even better than Squall himself.

To make it even worse, Zell was a genuinely good guy on top of it. A nice guy. Too nice, unless it was on the battlefield.

It made Hyne's command that much harder.

Squall idly handed Zell another beer. "Hm. I hadn't really noticed."

Zell leaned back on his elbows and stared at the blue sky. "Really? That's not why you were researching chi in the library the other day? Why you really asked me here?"

"Zell…"

"If something is going on with her and her chi is all messed up…I could help, man. Just ask me. Is something messing up her magic? If—" Zell stopped mid-sentence and Squall could tell gears in his head were turning.

Why did Zell have to be so smart?

He wasn't smart enough to shut up though.

"Your magic has been stronger lately." The martial artist said softly.

"Rinoa's a good teacher."

"Yeah, she is, dude. She is."

They both remained silent for a moment.

"But—you haven't been junctioned." Zell finally said.

Shit.

Zell continued. "I know how Fhang Zeng works, Squall. I'm sure you were looking at it to try and help her. But I can tell she's off. Her chi is a mess and she can't even muster a basic cure spell. Please, let me help you, man." He pleaded earnestly.

Squall snorted slightly. "Gods, I can't believe I never saw it before…"

Zell gave him a puzzled look. "Saw what?"

"You're in love with her."

"Dude…" Zell held up his hands defensively.

"Hey, I get it. Obviously."

"You got it all wrong, bro. I love Rinoa. She's my best friend, but I'm not in love with her. I don't even like-"

Squall knew that Zell was lying.

Zell had stopped himself from saying anything else, and Squall got the sense that he was hiding a massive secret. Unfortunately for Zell, Squall was incorrect in his assumption of what Zell was failing to disclose.

"You'd do anything for her…" Squall rose from his seat and began to walk towards the martial artist.

On instinct, Zell took a few steps back, fearing Squall was going to punch him across the face. "Of course I would." And he meant it.

"Even…give your life?" Squall asked menacingly.

"Squall? Look, dude, you're way off base here. Rinoa and I aren't like that. Besides, I've kind of got a date in a little bit-"

"Slow down..."

The blonde was immediately sluggish. He stumbled as if his feet were encased in lead, his entire body moving as though he was underwater. Slowed by the currents. Half-speed.

Slowed.

Zell's eyes bulged as he realized he'd been spellbound. Unable to defend himself properly, unable to flee without being caught.

Squall sighed deeply and felt a pang of guilt as he saw the clear look of betrayal on Zell's face. "I didn't want to have to do this to you, Zell. I really, really didn't."

Shaking his head in disappointment, Squall approached his friend. Zell immediately tried to fight back, to fend off the Commander, but the slow spell wouldn't allow it. His punches were in slow-motion and feeble. He desperately tried to get to his feet, only to have Squall sweep them out from beneath him. Again, and again, Zell tried to stand. Again, and again—Squall knocked him down.

Their awkward dance continued, Zell struggling to defend himself. He quickly tired, face flushed red with exertion, chest heaving—slowly—as he panted. When he was finally able to get to his feet without Squall forcing him back to the ground, the tattooed martial artist lashed out.

Squall allowed it.

Moving unnaturally slow, as if his feet were encased in lead, his limbs sluggishly flailing. Like he was moving through syrup. The once-agile SeeD had been reduced to a bumbling, listless, poor excuse for a mercenary.

But it didn't stop him from trying.

Zell fought. Admirably, considering he was under the control of a spell bolstered by the powers of a Sorceress. A languid punch, a lethargic kick. Squall made sure to always stay just out of arms' reach. Frustration—and fear—crossed Zell's face. But more than anything—acceptance. It was apparent the moment he realized he would not leave this place alive—or uninjured—for his face contorted with disbelieving terror. His Commander, his friend—had turned on him. And for what?

Squall evaded his attacks with ease, and effortlessly subdued him. Finally. The pangs of guilty were creeping up on him, and buried deep within, deep below the mania Hyne's commands created, he was fighting with himself.

He could not allow those feelings of regret to win. Not when he had a mission from the God.

Squall dragged the young man away, low moans of despair gurgling from Zell's mouth. As the marital artist tried to kick himself free, it was obvious he was hopelessly incapacitated. Squall simply ignored the sounds, and continued toward the secluded cave. It's why he had chosen this location for their afternoon together. No one came to this side of the beach, and the tide was low enough that they could enter now.

"You left me with no choice." Squall said as he nonchalantly tossed Zell's body down onto the rocky ocean shelf

Bouncing against the sharp rocks, Zell reminded Squall of a ragdoll. There was no way to brace himself, and he bounced awkwardly. Head slamming against the rocks, limbs limp. When his body finally came to a stop, he landed atop a jagged stone, pressed into his back. A large gash appeared on his bicep, crimson liquid streaming down his toned arm. More blood soon followed, flowing from his nose, his mouth.

At first blood, Squall's instinct took over.

The guilt—the regret—left him.

As Zell tried in vain to drag himself away, the spell making him move at a snail's pace, Squall couldn't control himself. The bloodlust had consumed him. He pounced on the tattooed man, pinning him to the rocks. Zell brought up a shaky, slothful hand and tried to punch him away. The movement was so slow that Squall easily deflected it.

"You saw too much. Thought too much. You'd end up betraying her. Getting her hurt. So…I have to do this."

Squall removed a glass vial and a syringe from his pocket and slowly began drawing medication from the bottle as Zell's eyes bulged in horror.

"You were a medic, right?" Squall continued to narrate his actions for the slowed Zell. "I remember you always saying about sedating before you paralyze someone. Something about intubation. That the paralytic drug makes them suffocate and its quite uncomfortable without it. You always said, 'there's no reason for them to suffer more'."

Zell tried to plead with him, but his words came out jumbled. As if his tongue was dry and made of cotton. Slurred together, incoherent.

But Squall knew what he was trying to say. He was begging for his life. Pleading with his friend to stop the madness and let him go. So they could talk. Zell always was the diplomat.

Diplomacy would not save him today.

"I meant to get the sedative, but couldn't find it, so I'm sorry to say your death is going to be painful." The menacing knight leaned over Zell's bent, sluggish body to look directly into his terrified eyes. Ensured Zell understood him. Understood the dire situation. "I really am sorry…dude."

Grabbing Zell's arm roughly, he held onto his bleeding bicep until a vein appeared below. A quick jab of the needle, a push of the drug inside, and the job was done.

Zell's mouth gaped as the drug began to course through his body. It was apparent in his eyes that he understood the gravity of the situation. Ninety seconds. Maximum. And then, that would be it. A feeble blizzaga spell bubbled on his fingertips, a last-ditch effort to defend himself, to save his life.

Squall stared down at the blonde, reading the betrayal that flashed across his eyes. He wrapped his hand around Zell's magically-glowing fingertips, extinguishing the magical ice. The once-lively martial artist had been reduced to a quivering, struggling shell of a man. He was gasping for breath as the muscles in his body slowly paralyzed. His diaphragm now almost unable to contract, making it impossible for air to enter the lungs. It probably felt like he was drowning on air.

"Of everyone, you were the one I trusted most. I even…liked you. Cherished your friendship." Squall shook his head slowly, sadly. Drew a soothing hand down Zell's cheek as a terrified tear rolled down the flushed skin. Wiped it away. "And now…"

Squall pulled a diving knife from his boot. The light reflecting off the ocean waves glinted on the metal blade. Holding Zell's languidly flailing arm tightly in his hand, he traced a line from his bicep to his wrist, making certain to sever the brachial artery as he moved.

Zell cried out, a low, slow moan. Almost inhuman. His lungs were being paralyzed, his throat constricting. He was in obvious agony, for the veins in his neck bulged as he strained against the drug. Against the magic of his friend. The spell's aura ensured whatever sound tumbled from his lips was indistinguishable.

The Commander watched as even Zell's blood seemed to move in slow-motion. Pumping like thick oil. He moved to the other arm, mirroring his slices on the other muscle.

Zell's hand moved in sluggishly. Reached out to grab Squall's. Grab the knife. He continued to gasp. The drugs had almost taken total effect and his body was going rigid. Soon, he'd be completely unable to breathe.

Squall merely swatted the martial artist's hand away. "You know, Rinoa always thought your jokes were funny. And, I hate to admit it, but some of them actually were." Squall pressed his knife into Zell's chest, blood welling up in the divot between his collarbones. "It's a shame, really…I might just miss hearing them."

The tattooed SeeD reached for Squall's hand again. This time, not menacing, not in defense. In disbelief. A reluctant understanding. Acceptance. His eyes twinkled with sorrowful moisture. One last effort to bargain for his life. To beg for mercy.

Squall would not let himself falter. Would not allow Zell to test his emotions. Hyne had commanded him. Rinoa deserved the offerings. He—craved the power.

Before the drugs completely took him and the light from Zell's eyes went out, Squall plunged his diving knife into Zell's stomach. One last moment of glory. "I need one more thing from you. Hyne demands this."

Squall took his time drawing the blade through his belly, dissecting the toned, healthy muscles.

Zell was no longer able to cry out, to gasp. His body was paralyzed. Eyes locked disbelievingly on Squall, mouth agape. A trickle of bloody saliva dripping from the corner of his lips

As Squall tore the organ from the flesh and examined it, Zell's eyes finally went dead, staring into space. Zell Dincht was no more.

The liver was fattened and large. It reminded Squall of the livers in the animals they force feed to make them fattened up for foie gras. Probably from Zell's terrible diet. It was a perfect sacrifice for Hyne.

It was now nightfall and the tide was as its lowest. Squall pulled Zell's body from the cove. Once it was floating in the ocean, he tied a rope around the feet and began dragging it behind him in a small kayak. Finally far enough out, he tied rocks to the limbs, released the tow line, and let the body sink to the bottom of Balamb Ocean. The monsters would take care of the rest.

"I really am sorry, Zell…" He whispered into the night air as he watched the form slowly sink to the bottom of the sea. "Farewell."

Squall made his way to the Sorceress Memorial to offer his latest sacrifice to Hyne. Thunder boomed in the background. Something that almost never happened in Esthar.

Lightning streaked across the desert sky. It was probably a heat storm. It hadn't rained in Esthar in nearly a century. The rumble of the thunder caused Squall to shudder slightly, and reminded him of a thundaga spell coursing through his skin.

Heart beating rapidly, he knelt in front of the small makeshift altar, preparing to dig a hole for his latest sacrifice to Hyne.

As he began to dig, he felt something. A drop? Unlikely.

Looking up at the sky to confirm that there was no way it was raining, Squall saw the heavens open up and rain began to pound down on him in heavy droplets. The drops made a distinct pitter patter against the stone of his altar, and he could hear the sound of them banging against the steel of the Sorceress' Memorial behind him.

There could be no doubt.

Hyne was blessing him.

Staring up into the dark clouds, he let the rain wash away his pain from killing Zell. It's not that he felt guilty any longer—those feelings had been fleeting—he had been doing Hyne's will. But, he was sad to lose his friend, even if he knew Zell was a threat to his and Rinoa's safety. Squeezing Zell's liver in his hand, he thrust it into the air in a fist as he stood.

"You see? You tested me, and I did it! I didn't fail you." He screamed to the heavens.

Thunder boomed again in the background.

"You're happy. I can tell. I listened and obeyed!" He shouted up into the sky before kneeling down and burying Zell's liver next to Cid's gall bladder and Laguna's head.

A strike of lightning hit the top of the Sorceress Memorial nearby with a deafening crack, the light casting eerie shadows from Hyne's altar.

A realization hit him.

It felt like the magic he absorbed from Rinoa, combined with the rain of Esthar—that he could feel Hyne inside of him. He finally understood His will.

It was never Rinoa. The Sorceress was merely a vessel. She was never the chosen one.

It was him.

Rinoa was his pathway to Hyne. Rinoa was his gift from Hyne. His way to absolution for his sins. His pet. His weapon. She belonged to him. Hyne had dictated it.

But he was the one chosen as Hyne's descendent. Not Rinoa, like he had originally thought. It's why he could take her magic. It's why he was the one who had to do Hyne's will. Rinoa never understood. Rinoa couldn't hear Him.

It wouldn't be Rinoa they would bow down to…it would be him.

"They will worship me." Squall said softly. Reverently "…because you chose me."

Squall clenched his fists proudly. His body felt as if it were alight with energy. Euphoria. Power.

"I finally understand now…with Rinoa at my feet, I can destroy them all."

He stood proudly and chanted at the memorial.

Dies iræ, dies illa
Solvet sæclum in favilla

Suddenly, he was no longer sad that Zell was dead.

A/N:This chapter was extremely difficult for me to write. I love Zell. I did not want to do this. Many thanks to Bebedora, my wonderful beta, who made this a possibility.
The Bean King is a painting by Jacob Jordaens and hangs at The Hermitage in St. Petersburg. It depicts a bean feast, which is a traditional feast that a land owner would give to works mid-summer as a thank you. There was a cake that had a bean in it, and the person who got the bean was "the bean king" for the rest of the party. Similar to a king cake.